Archive: Any list I send this to may archive it, can also found
on my site when it's done.
Archive Date: April 24, 2000
Author's Webpage: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/theglobe
Category: PWP, POV (Obi-Wan)
Disclaimer: Lucas is Da Man, I'm just having a little non-profit
fun.
Notes: Set in the "Knight Moves" AU; Obi-Wan/Maul pairing. I had
a couple of requests for a pwp, and an appropriate plot bunny
appeared, so here it is. *G* The events of this story take place
a short time after "Trial By Fire." This is an angst-free story
(for once).
Pairing: O/Maul
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Obi-Wan and Maul celebrate being assigned their first
mission.
Finally, it happened.
The Council has given Maul and me permission to accept missions as a team, and we'll leave on our first one in three days. Sure, they're starting us off easy--just a routine diplomatic thing. I've been on so many of those with Qui-Gon I could sleep-walk through it, but I assume they're going slowly and cautiously because of Maul.
Still, it's progress, and definitely a cause for celebration. We rounded up some of our friends, shed the Jedi robes for the night in favor of civvies and went out of the Temple for dinner. There ended up being seven of us gathered around a long table, and Maul took a place at the far end, choosing to stay slightly apart, the better to sit quietly and watch as he usually does. He can carry on a conversation when he wants to, but he tends to take on the role of observer rather than participant in large groups. Unlike me, who loves getting in the middle of things, he prefers one-on-one or small group discussions.
I sat along one side of the table, in the middle where I could see and hear everything going on; it kept me apart from Maul, but neither of us care to be joined at the hip anyway. He doesn't take it as a personal insult if I'm not near him at every given opportunity, and neither do I. I was having a great time anyway, pleased with the prospect of going on a mission for the first time in over two years and enjoying the company I was in.
My only concern was that Maul might get tired of being around so many people or grow bored. While we were all settling in after the dessert course, ready to sit back and enjoy the after-dinner contentment, I glanced over at him, trying to catch his attention. He looked at me immediately as if sensing my gaze had been turned on him, and our eyes met and held.
You've been quiet for the last few minutes, I spoke to him along the bond we shared.
It hadn't been a conscious decision for us to bond; the Force had done it for us early on, forging it while we meditated together. It had begun as a simple Master-Padawan bond, but since then, it's grown into something more. Something deeper. I don't think either of us have probed it too much yet, though. Even though I couldn't imagine my life without him in it, the thought that we might unconsciously be forming a life bond is still a little overwhelming, especially since the whole thing has been taken out of our hands from the beginning. I would've liked to have had some say in the matter!
Are you bored? I asked, and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, the barest hint of a smile tilting his lips upward. What are you thinking about, then?
The next thing I knew, my mind was flooded with images of myself moaning and writhing as he took me; I could see myself flushed, nearly screaming with need, felt the pleasure almost as intensely as if he were touching me physically, not just mentally, and through it all, the low pulse of one word being chanted: "Mine."
I was suddenly, ragingly erect.
Pleasant after-dinner conversation was forgotten; all I wanted was to grab him and drag him back to the Temple, back to our quarters where I could make all those images become reality, except I wanted him to be the one going out of his mind with desire as I claimed him.
On the surface, it seems like our roles in the relationship are pretty clear. Maul's the quiet, introspective one. He's always calm, always soft-spoken, and he's also very meticulous. I guess years of living with no possessions other than the bare essentials have left him incapable of looking at clutter without his fingers itching to put it away somewhere. Too bad for him I'm a collector!
Meanwhile, I'm the outspoken one, the energetic one; he says I never stop laughing and smiling, and I say he doesn't do either nearly enough. You'd think just looking at us that I'd be the leader, and he the follower. Right?
Wrong.
He's quiet, yes, but there's nothing passive about him. If he ever does act passive, I know there's something wrong! Calm and peaceful to be around, yes, he is, but get him in a fight or a bed, and that calm quickly gives way to a fierce intensity that can still leave me breathless. There's still something of the predator about him, but that's definitely not a complaint.
Still, I'm not exactly the model of passivity myself. The good thing is, we seem to have struck a balance. For the most part, anyway. There are times when I want to take charge during our love-making--to take him--and he allows it. In turn, I allow him to be in control when he wants to be. We give and take according to our moods. And then there are times that both of us want to be the aggressor, and neither of us want to give in to the other.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Even though I wanted to leave right then, I waited. I leaned back in my chair and pretended to pay more attention to the conversation flowing around me than I really was. Meanwhile, the majority of my attention was focused on my lover, hoping my delaying tactic was making him squirm with frustration and growing need. He'd never show it, of course, but I'd reap the benefits of it once we were alone.
If he felt as impatient as I did, no one would've ever guessed. He sat back, rested his elbows on his chair-arms and laced his fingers together, tapping them against his chin as he listened to our friends chat. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, darker blue than his eyes--the first time I'd seen him in anything other than either Sith or Jedi robes since that night he faced the clone of himself. In the low light of the restaurant, his lean, angular face illuminated by a flickering candle placed on the table for atmosphere, he appeared dark and enigmatic, his expression giving away nothing of his thoughts.
Only I knew what they were.
He caught me peeking at him, and his slight smile turned feral; he knew I wanted to leave, to be alone with him, but I was determined to draw out the anticipation and reduce him to a quivering mass of need--all for me. My answering smile was wolfish. I placed my forefinger against the cleft in my chin, rubbing it back and forth slowly, and I saw the flare of passion in his eyes. For some reason, he's always been drawn to that dimple; he kisses it, touches it and laves it with his tongue whenever he can, so I knew watching me fondle it would heighten his desire.
Of course, I should've known that I'm not the only one who's aware of his lover's weaknesses and willing to exploit them.
As I watched out of the corner of my eye, Maul raised his hand to his mouth and began stroking his bottom lip, moving his long, graceful fingers across it, tantalizing me, knowing how much I love nibbling on that full, delicious lip. I wanted to taste it right then, to draw it into my mouth and release it slowly. Then he made my agony a hundred times worse by letting his tongue peek out just enough to wet it, making the skin glisten in the golden glow of the nearby candle.
I clamped my lips together, trying to repress a moan at the sight; my erection had subsided a little, but now it was stirring to life once more, and I was glad I was sitting down and that my lap was hidden by a table. Unfortunately, our friends seemed to be in no hurry; everyone was still laughing and talking, lingering over tea and the remains of their dessert. I couldn't be rude and just leave them all there just so I could go home and ravish Maul, especially since we'd invited them in the first place. So I had to sit there and think cold thoughts, pretending to be interested in whatever they were saying when in fact my mind was racing to come up with a way of making Maul just as anxious as I was.
If I'd been sitting next to him, I would have touched him, perhaps stroked his thigh not quite high enough or found a way to brush kisses against his ear--one of his more sensitive spots. But there were three people and a length of table between us, so my options were limited unless I used the Force to touch him, which I didn't want to do quite yet. There was something delightfully wicked about teasing each other visually without using anything but our own knowledge of each other to heighten each other's arousal.
Ever since being Knighted, I've let my hair grow, and it's long now, just past my shoulders. I'm not authorized to wear a Master's knot, but I often wear it pulled back in a ponytail as I did when I was a Padawan. But Maul prefers it down so he can stroke it. Even though he was brought up practically an ascetic, by nature, he's very sensual, and now he takes pleasure in little things--just running his fingers through my hair. All his life, he's had next to nothing. In comparison, an inconsequential indulgance like that must seem like sheerest luxury.
Tonight, I was wearing it tied back, but as I looked steadily at Jossen, giving every appearance of paying close attention to him, I slowly reached up and pulled out the tie, shaking my head so that my hair fell loose, and then I raked my fingers through it as if finger-combing it into order. Glancing side-long at Maul, I saw his throat convulse once, and then he sat back in his chair, withdrawing to the safety of shadows.
For the rest of the night, he did nothing, but I wasn't so stupid as to assume that meant I'd won. I knew from experience with his tenacity that it only meant he was working out a strategy for retaliation which he'd enact in his own time. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Bant reluctantly pushed back her chair.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice laden with regret. "I've enjoyed this so much, but I've got to get back to the Temple."
She needed to immerse in water, in other words. I was so relieved, I could've kissed her. The rest of our companions took that as their cue as well, and everyone began standing up and preparing to return home. Maul waited until the table had cleared before moving to stand beside me; I wondered what he had in mind--and then I found out.
He reached out and put his hand on the back of my neck.
That was all, but that was enough.
He slipped his fingers beneath my hair and beneath my collar so he could caress the warm skin he found with his thumb. Just a slow, steady, rhythmic stroking. He kept his hand there as we walked out of the restaurant, as we waited for a skycab, as we bid farewell and good night to our friends.
All that time with just that maddeningly slow, stroking thumb.
As far as I was concerned, we couldn't get back home quickly enough. And when we did, I had plans for my wicked, tempting lover.
To be continued...