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maiaspen · 4 months

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“CUM DRUNK” ❤️🖤

Part 6 Preview!

Nobody tagged me in the WIP GAME, so I tagged myself 🤪🤣 why not?

This little snippet is still a very rough draft, and what I ultimately post may be different. The full chapter (once complete) will be extremely long (😅) and 🍆-full. Like Kenobi on his knees😏.

But for now, enjoy . . .

MAUL

Within The Sith Infiltrator's cockpit, Master Sidious’ holographic image materializes slowly, flickering like a mundane candle in the breeze. The signal is poor. Meaning that Maul’s Master is on a distant planet. Likely multiple days travel from Tatooine.

The sudden knowledge of this distance between himself–no, between the Padawan and his Master— makes Maul feel as though he’s just removed heavily weighted armor.

As his Master’s hooded shape solidifies, Maul swiftly drops to one knee and bows his head. He is not to look upon his Master’s exalted image until cued to do so. And, at present, Maul is appreciative of this rule. He does not want Master Sidious to identify the relief he’s experiencing upon his face.

Fortunately, Maul’s inconvenient relife meets an instantaneous end. For the young Sith feels his Master’s eyes upon him– glare insurmountably heavy with dissatisfaction. Maul half expects his cranial horns to crack beneath the pressure.

Displeasing Sidious –disappointing Sidious – is an unthinkable shame worthy of the most severe punishment.

What does his Master know? Everything? Nothing?

Not only has Maul failed to apprehend the Queen, but he has been uncharacteristically, inexcusably sloppy. He has been . . . distracted by the Padawan, and thus made a gravely careless mistake. One that could cost his Master, the Sith, eons of work.

That inept male human who shot the Padawan– he saw Maul. Saw his red lightsaber. And this human is still alive.

After locking the cum drunk Padawan back into the cell, Maul sent his probe droid to follow the tracker placed upon the Queen’s ship. The droid has since reported that: the ship remains stranded on Tatooine, less than two hundred kilometers away, and that the Jedi Master has not yet returned to it. However, once the Master does — and as soon as the crew manages to punch a communication signal through to Coruscant— the Master will contact the Jedi Temple. Relay news of the Padawan lost while battling a Force-user with a red lightsaber. A Sith.

Maul must make haste— return to the ship to end that loathsome human and his equally loathsome hat. End anyone else that the human could have told, and complete his mission before any reports to the Jedi Temple can be made. Maul feels confident that no reports have reached Coruscant yet, or else his Master would likely be Force-choking him from across the stars right now.

“Well, my apprentice? What progress have you made?” Master Sidious’ own voice creaks under the substantial malcontent. Maul’s knees seem to creak in turn, and he strains to remain a perfect statue of acquiescence.

Because the young Sith has been spoken to, he is now allowed to raise his head. Master Sidious’ hood conceals his eyes, yet Maul feels the intensity of them. Despite this, when Maul speaks, his voice is as steady and sure as his hands while fighting:

“My Master, I have located the Naboo Royal Starship in the Wastes. Its hyperdrive has been damaged. The Queen, her crew, and the Jedi are stranded here.”

“And?” With this single curt word Master Sidious demands to know why Maul did not take care of business immediately— slay the Jedi and take the Queen the moment the ship was found.

Maul will not lie to his Master. That would be unthinkable, of course. But, he can tell the truth whilst withholding non-imperative details. Whether Master Sidious knows about Maul’s Padawan prisoner or not, whether he knows of the loathsome hat human or not— the end result will be the same: the Queen will be taken. She will sign the treaty. Maul will be victorious.

When Maul replies to his Master, he fortifies his voice with the confidence that he feels: “It was not then the right time to act, Master.”

Because I could not strike down the Padawan. Such a worthy foe did not deserve such an unworthy end. Because he called me . . . lovely.

“Not then the right time?” Master Sidious repeats the explanation, scoffing. “Why? Because the Queen is heavily guarded? I cannot believe that you are intimidated by the presence of the Jedi?” Sidious taunts, saying the word ‘Jedi’ with the ire he would when speaking of younglings laughing and playing.

The notion of Darth Maul being intimidated by the presence of any being is absurd. He would welcome the opportunity to battle this world’s legendary krayt dragon, or any entire hoard of fierce Tusken raiders. Maul’s very existence has been designed to annihilate Jedi, and his Master well-knows how he hungers to test his skills against them. If anything– this Master and Padawan team are but mere appetizers. Maul longs to clash blades with the renowned Temple greats such as Mace Windu and Plo Koon.

“Why?” Master Sidious presses again, voice so shrill that Maul’s eardrums shudder; but Maul’s body, his expression, does not.

A convenient feature of the word ‘Jedi’ is that it can refer to one Jedi or multiple Jedi. So Maul chooses his words as though selecting wires to defuse a soon-to-detonate bomb: “My Master, the Jedi traveled into Mos Espa in search of hyperdrive repairs. At present, the ship is near-defenseless.”

Every word Maul reports is accurate. Only the loathsome hat human, plus the Queen’s bodyguards, remain aboard to protect her. None of whom will present a challenge for Maul. He can only hope that the Jedi Master’s return to the ship coincides with his own. Considering the Padawan’s skill, the Master should provide decent exercise, at least. But first, Maul must convince his own Master that: “The time to act is now. Bloodfin will deliver me to the Queen by nightfall.”

“That is goooood. Very goooood,” Master Sidious commends, voice akin to tree branches groaning and grating in the wind. “I needn’t remind you that— save for the Queen, you can leave none alive. You must make certain! It is not yet time for us to reveal our existence to the galaxy.”

Unbidden, the Padawan’s beautiful face flashes within Maul’s mind, brief as a star appearing and vanishing during a hyperspace jump. Maul’s stomach reflexively clenches with dread, as though he’s bracing for a physical blow– and there is no way that Master Sidious did not detect his reaction.

The blow does come, and while not physical, it packs a far more devastating punch:

“You are hiding something.” Master Sidious states as he would state that the Darkside is all-powerful. “There is a reason why you did not apprehend the Queen at first chance.”

Master Sidious says nothing more, but Maul feels his Master's presence— crawling over him like countless orb-spiders. Skittering. Searching. Scrutinizing. The galaxy-wide distance is no match for the power of a Sith Master. There is no barrier, no space, where dark-seeking fingers cannot reach.

A lifetime of this Force-scrutiny has made the Sith apprentice very good at being nearly inscrutable. Maul buries away thoughts of the Padawan, quickly stuffing them one-by-one into the black chasm of the Force . . .

The Padawan’s presence and smile– a radiance to rival sunlight. Eyes like a cobalt firestars, able to melt Maul’s self-control to ruin. That clever tongue, as fast as his fighting reflexes, wicked with wit and charm. Such a clever tongue . . . Maul stops himself from imagining that soft, wet, pink muscle being put to other sorted uses. And the Padawan’s scent— like he doused himself with a fragrant cologne called ‘needing to be stuffed with Zabrak cock’, which he exudes from his very pores. That fit body. That flawless ass. How the Padawan had been so wet, so ready, and allowed Maul to take him in a deep-bestial way. All about smell and taste and the weight of flesh upon flesh. The sounds of the Padawan’s needy whimpers, breathy little moans and afterward— his cum-intoxicated rambling. How the Padawan had leaned into Maul like a loth-cat, one long-starved for affection. And how Maul– who knows nothing of affection– had wanted to give it to him.

As Maul hides the last of his dangerous thoughts away, his attention remains locked, unblinking, upon his Master’s image. The young Sith controls his body as he would Bloodfin: decelerating his breathing and heartbeats to retain a steady, comfortable pace; steering his thoughts to the Royal Starship. He envisions himself doing battle with faceless, ambiguous shapes that are a Jedi Master and Apprentice, and slaying them. He sees himself laying ruin to the Queen's look-alike bodyguards, the loathsome hat man, and finally seizing the Queen. He pictures her – a youngling in a ridiculously elaborate gown, face markings which can be simply wiped away; and imagines her hand— a thing delicate as a hatchling starbird. She will only need one hand to sign the treaty, so he will break the other, one little finger at a time. His Master will like that.

As though ensnared by a tractor beam, the sensation of skittering, searching, scrutinizing orb-spiders vanishes.

“I understand now.” Master Sidious’ upper lip twitches, tone shifting to accusatory. “Bloodlust stains your vision. You are waiting for the Jedi to return to the ship so that you can engage them, rather than just getting on with your mission.” The Dark Lord lets out a scowling growl. “My apprentice, I know that you journeyed to Tatooine expecting to battle the Jedi, but the Force has other plans for you. You must accept this. You are never to put your own ambitions— your insatiable need to test your skills— above my ambitions. The ambitions of The Sith. I know that you do not find simplistic tasks worthy of your talents, but none-the-less, the Force has granted you this chance to complete our mission without further Jedi interference. You will seize it. These two Jedi– all Jedi– will fall before us very, very soon.”

Maul is being reprimanded for traitorous hubris. He grits his teeth against the instinct to defend himself. However . . . his Master coming to this conclusion is actually very convenient. Doubtless, Maul will be tortured for his hubris later, but that is acceptable. Better himself than the Pada—

He grits his teeth harder, tasting enamel on his tongue, forcing himself not to finish the thought. The apprentice opts to simply bow more deeply to convey his obeisance.

“Contact me when it is done.” At that, Lord Sidious’ hooded form vanishes like a mundane candle being snuffed out.

❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤

#wip game #current wip #obimaul fanfiction #obimaul #obi wan x darth maul #story nsfw #obiwan #darth maul #darth maul smut #obi wan kenobi #Obi-wan whump

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