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darthmaulification · 2 years

Note

hey!! just saw you are taking requests YAY🤍 i love how you write in general but specifically for maul so this will be about him🥴 i was thinking about maul getting insecure and jealous because of an interaction that the reader(f or gn i don’t mind) had with sb(i’ll let that to u heheh) so starting off with an angry maul, pretty angsty, and then all ✨smutty✨ naturally lmao, finishing off with reassurance and fluff bc i’m a sensitive bitch😗✌🏻. also, i imagine this with maul and reader not being in an established relationship but crushing on/having feelings for each other but if you choose to change that that’s fine hahah and yeah, that’s it!! hope you like the idea and if you’re not convinced feel free to ignore this, i’d love anything you write anyways😬🤍

A/N: lol apologies for the delay lolololol 🤪 life is... sehr interessant atm 💀

BUT! i finally finished this!! and am proud that i did!!! 😊💕

i hope this makes up for the wait, anon, i really do. thank you for your patience! 🥺🤲💞

(btdubs, i know the character i chose to be reader’s past flame kinda sorta really doesn’t work AT ALL in the context of canon, so let’s all agree to not read far into that lmao.)

hope you enjoy! kiitos! 💗

content: a mixed bag, afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used tho), jealous maul (because when is he not smh 🙄), pining, pre/new relationship, arguments and fighting, two idiots not knowing how to talk abt theys feels, making up, heart to heart chats y’know, and then fucking, making out, very very slight public embarrassment (like hardly any), marking/biting, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex (unprotected), cum

word count: 9,570

The Sundari Palace has never been this lively, and that you can say with certainty.

Packed like sardines in a tin, people of all species mingle in the throne room, all of them high ranking officials, diplomats, and a select few... underground higher-ups you recognize from Crimson Dawn meetings. It’s beyond rare that you’ve had such an opportunity to socialize, and it’s even rarer that today isn’t for any of Maul’s Mandalore related business nor his side hustle. In fact, today’s technically all about you.

The birthday celebrations haven’t commenced quite yet, but the amount of well-wishes and gifts you’ve received makes you wonder just how big a party was planned for you. The thought is somewhat peculiar, considering you’re only one of Maul’s advisors (not that he even utilizes your advice all that often).

Speaking of the crimson-skinned Zabrak, your eyes scan the noisy, crowded room until you catch sight of him at the opposite side. Maul is conversing with two towering Trandoshans, probably business partners of the illicit sort, his hands clasped behind his back. Though he usually opts to go completely shirtless (for whatever reason) tonight he wears inky black robes and a floor length, maroon velvet cloak.

The colors suit, shades of red and black that make him appear equal parts dangerous and charming. A dark prince, he looks like desire itself.

Deep inside you, something twinges, and you want to run over to him and tell Maul how gorgeous he is. You want him to know how badly you’ve ached for him, and how appreciative you are for him, and everything else good and holy in the galaxy... but you can’t.

He’s your employer— your Lord. It would be inappropriate at the least and insubordination at its worst for you to approach the Mand’alor in such a way.

Maul makes it hard though, seeing that he treats you as well as he does his brother, that you needn't ask for a thing. He gave you a room in the Palace, an awfully exorbitant pay for your rather miniscule data job, and has left you with more fleeting touches than you can count.

A brush of his hand on your back, words whispered close to your ear during Crimson Dawn debriefs, smoldering glances, his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear...

It's hard not to feel something for Maul when all he's ever done is a gift.

You wonder what you mean to him, because surely it's something more- you want it to be something more. But doubt always rears its head every time you catch a nameless fling stagger from his personal quarters late at night, looking disheveled, all while Maul looks on, immensely satisfied.

The twinge grows stronger, and you look away to force it back down into the deepest part of your heart. As you shuffle to the table where platters of food promise you some emotional relief, you work hard at squashing your feelings. It doesn’t work, not even when a passing waiter droid offers you a glass of champagne which you down in one gulp.

“Maker.” You grumble to yourself, picking up a strange-looking pink cube off a platter and bringing it to your lips. Before taking a bite, the distinct impression that you’re being watched starts to creep up on you, making it feel like you’re tingly all over. You lower the cube, and turn.

“By the Stars!” A voice from afar exclaims, a voice that makes your mind buzz with recognition. Your head turns in the direction from which it came, and when you see the tall figure approaching you, your jaw drops in shock. A very familiar Nautolan, one with the brightest, most wonderful smile plastered on his bright, wonderful face.

“Kit!” You cry, a grin blooming across your face as you open your arms (accidentally dropping the sweet) and run straight into his. He laughs— that same, beautiful laugh exactly how you remember!— and pulls you close. As you dig your face into his chest, you inhale deeply and almost weep, because he even smells the same— a curious mix of sea salt, pine, and something sharp, like mint. It’s all uniquely him.

“Starfish.” Kit sighs the pet name into your hair, and it almost has you shivering at the memories attached. You haven’t been called that name in years, not since Kit...

“I thought you perished on Coruscant.” You murmur into the soft satin shirt he’s wearing, hugging him tighter to stave off the ache of the thought. Kit stiffens slightly, pulling back so that you’re able to look up at him, and the grin on his face slips into a small, melancholic frown. A distant look overtakes his eyes, a stillness in their inky depths that is so unnatural to him.

“Yes, I... It was...” He goes quiet then shakes his head, long tendrils trembling as he forces himself back to the sunny disposition you remember. The switch ignites deep empathy and curiosity within you, but the pain in his eyes stops you from pressing any further. “A conversation for another time”, is the sentiment left unsaid.

“Well... it is so so wonderful to see you again, Kit.” You say softly, cupping his cheek with your hand, his chartreuse skin cool and semi-damp beneath your palm. It reminds you of a time before, distant memories that your mind had hidden under lock and key. In all honesty, after Coruscant, after... everything that happened, you had honestly tried your best to forget your past lover.

It wasn’t that you wanted to, but when the mind seeks self-preservation, and the soul seeks solace, yours acted no different.

“It’s wonderful to see you too.” Kit replies, his voice quiet and tentative, his pitch black eyes downcast, only briefly. When he looks up again, the beaming sunshine smile is back full force, and the haunted expression on his face has been drowned out by its light.

“How have you been? I had no idea that you’d gone to Mandalore— I always thought your dream destination was Canto Bight?” Kit teases, dodging your elbow when you try to land it into his side. You knew he knew your absolute displeasure at that deplorable city, especially with it’s treatment of children.

“Dirty liar! No, it is not!” You laugh, attempting to slap him lightly on the shoulder, but once again Kit dodges your half-hearted assault, chuckling himself. This time though, he grabs your hand, encasing your fingers with his. The tender touch honestly has the apples of your cheeks heating up, and you stare at his long, green fingers. They look the same, claws and all, but this time you do spot newer scars on his knuckles.

You want to kiss them better, as you had always done before, but this isn’t the past anymore.

“Kit...” You try not to sound overly exasperated, or disappointed, but the second his name passes your lips like that, Kit releases your hand, falling silent. His drop to his sides, then he shifts and clasps them behind his back. The mood immediately changes, the joviality dissipating to a dispirited awkwardness.

“I... apologize. We, um, we don’t—” Kit shakes his head in embarrassment, tendrils swaying, cheeks darkening slightly. Wanting to salvage the moment, you force a wide smile on your face and wave a hand nonchalantly. It’s hard, harder than you’d ever anticipated.

“Kit, believe me, it’s fine.” You insist, doing your best to keep your tone cheery, “What brings you to Mandalore?”

The pivot in subject is hardly subtle, but if Kit notices he doesn’t say, probably for his sake and yours. Though when the question processes, you’re intrigued to see Kit go a bit sheepish.

“Uhh... For business?” He glances everywhere but you, the terrible actor he is, and you raise an eyebrow. Crossing your arms over your chest, you take a step and Kit takes one back. It must look positively amusing, a human such as yourself making a towering Nautolan look small.

“Kit Fisto.” You warn, though there’s really no bite to it, but you are curious. Kit meets your gaze, all owlish and meek, and does that thing where his lip quivers when he wants to say something so badly, but is forcing himself not to. You’ve got him locked in the stare, and you know he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. His mouth opens to speak.

“I’m—”

“Who is this?” Both you and Kit jump, heads simultaneously whipping to the side to see Maul standing at your sides. A glower is on his face, more so directed at Kit, and his hands are hidden behind him, underneath his ornate cloak. Jumping into action, and gathering yourself all the same, you clear your throat and gesture to Kit.

“O-Oh! My Lord, this is—” You get interrupted when Kit takes a step, somewhat jutting out in front of you.

“Kit Fisto, Lord Maul.” He says smoothly, putting on the voice he once used for Senators on Coruscant, all chivalry and semi-forced politeness. Interestingly enough, his tone also sounds a bit challenging, and you can’t imagine why. Your brow furrows, especially upon watching Maul’s eyes ignite at the provocation, his sneer deepening.

“Yes... Kit Fisto... I do think I know that name.” Maul hums, Kit’s name rolling off his tongue as slickly as honey but as bitter as poison. The antagonism isn’t something you miss, nor does Kit, given how the tall Nautolan seems to puff up, shoulders setting. He and Maul glare at one another, fiery gold clashing with inky black. Maul’s hands drop to his sides, and the tension swells.

You catch sight of silver glinting at his hip.

“Really? Have you both met before?” You ask before someone decides to take the next step, haphazardly placing yourself semi-between Maul and Kit. It’s then you notice Kit also has a hilt on his belt, his hand awfully close to it. The tension breaks somewhat, but it still simmers in the air. Kit turns his attention to you and goes to say something, but Maul beats him to it.

“A mutual friend, so to speak.” The Zabrak replies evenly, straightening his posture and lifting his chin, the epitome of dignified class. You nod, not really buying it, but the alternative of questioning might bring more problems than it’d solve. How Maul and Kit once knew each other gives you the impression that it wasn’t in good terms, based on the hostility between them. A mystery to solve for another time, you decide.

“Well!” Kit booms suddenly, clapping his hands together once, and causing you to jump. His sunny grin returns, as does the otherwise lighthearted and jovial Kit you’re used to, although it seems a tad strained. The green Nautolan turns to you, and his smile drops a bit as he takes your hands in his.

Maul glares daggers.

“I must be going, unfortunately.” Kit says quietly, and a twinge of sadness pricks at your heart, your lips dropping into a frown. You want to protest— He’s only just reappeared after all— but whatever matters that seemed to have brought your beloved Kit back to you will pull him away all the same.

“Must you?” You whisper, eyes glossy, and you search Kit’s face for any answer except the one you’re dreading to hear. He looks pained, and won’t meet your eye, his gaze cast down at his hands holding yours. He rubs small circles on your knuckles, only twice, then stops.

“I...” Kit trails off, glancing at you then to Maul, who sneers, then back to you, “Yes. I can’t stay in many places for long.”

You bite your lip, and the plead to make him stay, and nod nonetheless. Kit finally meets your eyes, and his eyes— above all else, in spite of everything— are kind.

“We’ll meet again, starfish, I’m sure of it.” And with that Kit brings your knuckles to his lips, where he places a soft kiss upon them, his touch cool like sea breeze. You smile, and Kit does too, like he did all those years ago when you had first parted ways— The small, sad one that holds so much hurt that Kit doesn’t want you to see, but what his innate optimism can’t hide.

History is doomed to repeat itself, you suppose as you watch your fingers slip from Kit’s hand, the loss all too familiar.

“Mand’alor.” Kit dips his head to Maul, and the two imperceptibly size one another up again as the Nautolan passes him. It takes a lot to pull your eyes away from Kit’s retreating form, but you do, because you have to, and drag your attention back to Maul.

“I see you and him are far more acquainted than I initially realized.” Maul snaps, turning his withering glare to you, catching you completely off guard. He pivots harshly on his heel, practically stomping his way towards a discreet balcony and shoulder-checking a guest on the way. You frown, the anger that rises in you driving you to follow.

Maul weaves through the swathes of people, and you do too, almost losing him a couple times with all the sharp turns he takes. Finally, after you’ve burst out from the middle of a group of Twi’lek dancers, you catch sight of Maul at the edge of the balcony, alone.

He’s shrouded with the night’s shadows, his dark robes and sweeping cloak making him appear phantomic. His back is to you, one of his hands on the balcony’s silver railing, the other behind his back in a fist. Even from a distance you can tell his shoulders are tense, hackles raised, and the anger rolls off of him in waves. Like a cobra coiled to strike— volatile.

“Maul—” You start as you approach, but the Zabrak slams his crimson and black hand on the railing, cutting you off with a hefty thunk. The loud noise makes you jump, and pause in your tracks, though only briefly. Stomping up to him and just as you get close, Maul whirls around, his cloak billowing in the sudden breeze. The blistering flames of his eyes catch your attention first, their raging fury, then does the pain laced in them.

“What is with you?” You confront, arms flying up in exasperation, then falling down to your sides in defeat. Gaze searching Maul’s face for any type of answer, you watch his lips part then close to a tight line. He frowns and his brow furrows, curling in his midnight tattoos tight.

“Nothing of your concern!” Maul snaps in reply, and he turns his head from you and you almost have it in you to laugh when you see his lower lip jutting out like a child’s. He’s pouting, your esteemed leader and Lord is pouting.

“Obviously, it is of my concern considering this how you act with me.” You snort, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. Honestly, the Zabrak could be the most stubborn person you know— as absolutely, utterly stubborn as a sleeping bantha.

This time, it’s his turn to scoff, and Maul shakes of his head as he turns away from you. He starts to head in some direction away from you, but you reach out and grab his bicep before he can storm off.

“Maul—!” He shakes off your grip, but you hastily grab at him again. Maul whips his head around, eyes blazing as he snarls, “What?”

For a second you recoil, eyes blowing wide, but you hastily regroup yourself. Hand still on his arm, you take a step towards him and gently rest your other hand on his closest to you. Your fingers drape over the fist his hand is clenched into, the black leather taut under your touch. Nearly imperceptibly, his hand is quivering— from rage or sorrow, you aren’t exactly sure.

“Please. What’s wrong?” You ask softly, taking a risk and stepping closer, trying to smother the apprehension building inside you at getting so... close to Maul. You definitely are invading his personal space, but he doesn’t move, nor does he say anything up it. In fact, you’re so close to him you can smell the cologne he uses— a heady scent that reminds you of the heat of flames, spice, and the tang of turmeric.

A long stretch of near-silence ensues, the background noise of the party only a handful yards away making the contemplative look on Maul’s face all the more potent. He sighs, low and almost silent through his nose, and his other hand rises to run down his face. When it passes, the look in his eyes has hardened, and the elegant stoicism has returned full force.

“Nothing.” He replies, his tone clipped and overly neutral in the way that he once told you, on an equally warm, equally starry night as this one, that he had been forcibly trained to use for when he obeyed the commands of his former Master. It reminds you of that night, when you both sat on a bench, and exchanged secrets and trust.

It was also the night Maul told you, “You have a kind heart”. He hasn’t told you that since.

“... Is it Kit Fisto?” You ask the obvious, knowing that the answer is Yes, but at the same time you don’t want to assume while simultaneously wanting Maul to say it himself. He dips his head and his eyelids fall heavy over his eyes, and it’s then you notice how they glow in the shadows.

Maul and you... your relationship is strange, to say the least. It’s no secret he favors you compared to many others— Gar, Almec, no other holds your status— and it’s no secret that both of you have noticed. You’ve tried to decode what it all means, every gentle touch and kind word that Maul has delivered to you, but there’s always something missing, something left unsaid or undone that unravels it all.

It’s a dance, a strange, confusing dance.

“It is.” And the confession passes his lips in a whisper, and you nod, pursing your lips. Inhaling shakily, and wanting to salvage whatever you may have had with Maul, you begin to explain,

“Kit and I were once a... thing, but that time has passed.” You start, and all the memories of Kit and yours stupid, reckless, young, amazing love make you equal parts happy and sad, “But we aren’t anymore. We agreed a long time ago that our futures didn’t align.”

Even after so many years, the words still choke you despite the break-up being mutual and amicable. Yes, you loved Kit once, and he loved you, but love also has the tendency to be fleeting, and while it was strong between you and Kit for a little while, it left when it was meant to... when it was safe to. Despite yourself and your better judgment, tears sting the backs of your eyeballs, and you blink rapidly to hold them at bay.

“But I still sense the ache in your heart. Why?” Maul asks, his golden stare meets yours, pointed and accusing. You can’t help but frown, and the sorrowful anger that starts to simmer in your chest makes your tears evaporate. Though it doesn’t even get close to boiling over, and instead hums beside your heart.

“It’s hard to admit when love dies, my Lord.” You reply, and you hope you didn’t spit it out as bitterly as you thought you may have, but the tone of your voice seems to be less than a concern for Maul. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem offended, nor does he seem angered, and instead the crimson Lord has the maturity to dip his head respectfully.

“I... understand. I should not have behaved myself as I did previously.” He finally admits after a long stretch of silence, glancing to the party he stormed out of and then to the dent his fist left on the durasteel railing. The admittance does actually soothe you somewhat, though your heart still bristles at your past relationship being scrutinized and judged.

"No, you shouldn't have. I should never feel the need to defend who I’ve loved, and why I loved them." You reply, arms crossed tight over your chest defensively. Maul frowns,

"I know, I was-" Maul pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs harshly, "I was just jealous."

He admits it through grit teeth, looking and sounding as though the confession brought him physical pain.

"Why?" You breathe, thinking of all those men, women, and everyone else in between that have, presumably, found themselves in Maul's bed before you. And now you feel jealous yourself, catching him with some arm candy time and time again has worn you down. Anger that had been simmering inside you begins to boil, making your face feel hot.

But guilt does too, because hadn’t you just had to justify your love life to him? Maul shouldn’t have to do the same with you. It’s a nasty mix of too many human emotions that broil inside you and eat at your heart. It feels vindictive.

"You are... important to me." Maul replies, and this time your anger doesn't evaporate the tears behind your eyes, because this time they fall past your lashes before you can stop them. Hastily wiping them away as they fall, you glare at Maul.

"In what way? In a business way? In a friend way? How, Maul?" With each frantic question your voice rises in octave, and the tears keep falling. It’s at this moment, tears streaking down your cheeks, that you realize you’ve never cried in front of Maul like this— let alone anyone. Shame forces you to turn around, fixing your blurry stare on the distant horizon.

Behind you, Maul says your name and it carries in the wind. In your mind, you watch it manifest on the cool night breeze and be carried far away from the Sundari Palace, floating by each skyscraper in its path before being plunged to the ground. After a few long seconds, Maul says your name again and this time something in his voice changes and this time you catch your name in your palms.

“I don’t know who I am to you, Maul.” You say softly, lifting your fingers to your cheeks and wiping away tears and streaks of mascara, “And it hurts because I want to be your—”

A very specific word rests on your tongue, but it’s a word that feels too powerful to say, too much. You swallow it, and instead say, “Because I want to be someone to you.”

“I...” Maul trails off, the begins again, “I am sorry. Truly.”

Footfalls approach you, but you don’t turn around— not even when the heat of Maul’s presence is directly behind you. He sighs, low through his nose, and whispers your name.

“My life holds nothing but danger.” Maul states, and you agree, but don’t when he adds, “If you were in it... There is too much risk. For you.”

“Aren’t I already in it?” You ask in reply, and you know he knows that whatever sense of preservation he has for you has already been compromised by the proximity you have to him. For nearly three years you’ve stood by his side, the excuse of potential enemies getting to him through you is null. Maul sighs again, and this time you can practically see him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, but...” Maul trails off as you finally turn to face him, and you see his eyes dart to your dewy eyes and the tear streaks on your cheeks. Regret shadows his expression, and a part of you aches and wants to cup his cheek and caress that emotion away. The other part keeps your hands pressed to your sides, unmoving.

“But it would be unsafe for you if I held you any closer.” Maul says, a bitterly wistful tone in his voice, as if he’s cast out an unattainable wish on dandelion seeds thrown to the wind. Your feet draw you closer to him, only a few steps, but it feels like wading through clouds of smoke.

“What if I don’t care?” Your whisper seems to pull Maul to you, as if the question were a fishing line with a hook, reeling him in step by step until he stands before you. He looks down at you, cast in shadow but his face is lit by the lights from inside— A spotlight for two handsome honey eyes and thin lips pulled into a frown.

You can’t pry your eyes away from those lips— their crimson and black plush flesh beckon like red wine and blackberries. They grow nearer when you lean in, and Maul doesn’t pull away— No, he dips his chin, gets closer.

“You should.” Maul’s lips are perilously close to yours, and you so desperately want close that little distance. He breathes, and his exhale is warm on your face. You can’t look away from his gorgeous eyes, and he can’t do the same with you. It’s then you notice he has speckles of hazel in his irises, and that his pupils are ringed in red. Wildfire eyes.

“Mm... I can afford to live on the edge if it’s with you.” Barely following your murmur, Maul smashes his lips to yours, molding his working red and black mouth to your pliant one. He slips his tongue in the second you drop your jaw, and when you gasp, he swallows it. Eyelids fluttering, you brace a hand on his chest, grounding yourself, as Maul slithers a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you in.

Flush against his hot body, his lips and tongue furiously overtaking yours, Maul tastes like the roaring heat of flames and black cherries. The arm he has locked around you squeezes tighter, pulls you in deeper, and you wish that you could simply fall into him. Your knees shake, so Maul plants his feet beside yours and holds you up with all of his body. The low of your back presses against the railing behind you.

“My darling.” Maul murmurs above your lips when the kiss breaks naturally, leaving you both panting for air that you share. The air feels as though it tingles around you, a type of serendipity that warms you to the bone and leaves you feeling as though you’re floating. Maul’s glazed honey irises sparkle with tease that blooms on the lopsided grin that he cracks.

“You taste like starlight and all that is good.” He says, his hand coming to cup your jaw, fingertips brushing your hairline. A smile splits across your face, and you tilt your head into his touch, playfully kissing his thumb that rests near the corner of your lips. Maul watches, hawk-eyed, as you do.

“You taste like warmth and desire.” You purr in reply, purposefully not acknowledging how Maul’s one hand has splayed itself over your hip, how he has shifted closer, his core to yours. His grin turns more boyish, and he tilts his head appraisingly.

“Is that so?” He begins, dipping his face to your neck and placing kisses along your skin, “Would you like to know just how much desire I have for you?”

A shiver goes down your spine at both his words and how his lips stop just beneath your earlobe, where his tongue licks your skin. Trembling, you slide both of your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. Maul kisses down to your collar and then bites the soft part. You let out a squeal that is much more high pitched than you anticipated, and much louder, so Maul hastily presses his mouth to yours.

His low chuckles reverberate in your mouth, stifling the gasping moans you were about to release. Your lips move in tandem, jaws working and teeth nearly gnashing together with the force of the kiss. Maul growls when your fingers curl, pulling at his cloak and robes. When you part, you can barely keep your eyes focused from all the dewy, lusty daze that’s taken you over.

“I’d want you to show me.” You reply, voice husky and teasing, and you grin into the heated kiss that Maul pulls you into. It’s as furious as the one before— desperate, needy— all slick-tongue and swapping spit. You swallow the low growls that Maul let's out, and in turn he devours you— your scent, your kiss swollen lips, each gasp that sounds almost like his name.

The kiss parts ways again, Maul and you catching your breaths, and the second Maul does he licks his lips and smirks.

"Shall we find someplace less open, or would you prefer I ravish you here?" The crimson Zabrak angles his crown of horns to the noisy party just inside, where the light that's cast from the open doors narrowly reaches you and Maul in the shadows. As much as the risk is exciting, your mind is more focused on Maul's bed, where you'd let him do anything and everything to you.

"Your room, please." You say breathily, heart pounding in your chest, accepting with a soft smile the tender kiss Maul sets on your cheek in reply. He straightens up and pulls away from you, setting his shoulders to fix his rustled cloak. You do the same, hastily wiping at your smudged makeup and tidying your skirts.

"Come, my love, let us have a very long night." Maul offers you his hand, and the second your fingers are entwined with his, he sets off. You laugh, needing to smother it once you pass the threshold back into the palace, and do your best to hide your excitement behind a neutral expression. It's more to prevent the gossips, but one glance Maul and yours way would tip off anyone. Especially since Maul keeps sending smoldering looks over his shoulder, squeezing your hand when he does.

It’ll have to be a problem for tomorrow— a fairly impactful problem— but for tomorrow nonetheless. You’re too caught up in the moment and Maul to care.

Your Zabrak Lord guides you through swathes of people, and once he gets to the hallway exit at the other end of the room, Maul offers Savage a nod. The towering yellow Zabrak, who had been standing near the doorway, lifts a brow, then offers a small smirk back. Honestly, you hadn't even known that Maul's brother had attended, considering Savage's immense dislike of large crowds.

“Have fun.” Is Savage’s wry deadpan before his attention is stolen by a gaggle of buzzed Twi’leks who suddenly found themselves latched to his arms. Maul glares in response, and is about to say something snide back, but Savage is all but dragged away by one of the Twi’leks on his arm, her glossy lips pulled into a laugh. Savage sends Maul and you a look that says “Please help”.

Maul turns, and ignores him. Before Maul pulls you out into the hall, you mouth “I’m so sorry” to Savage, just as a turquoise Twi’lek launches himself into Savage’s arms. The yellow Zabrak only stares.

Once in the hall, the relative quiet eats away at the buzz left from the crowd, your racing heartbeat evening itself out. The dim lighting is also a large contrast to inside the room, and the shadows douse you and Maul in muted darkness. Though before you can calm down too much and focus on catching your breath, Maul is all over you once again, his eyes glowing.

“Savage is going to be so mad at us tomorrow.” You say through giggles, letting Maul pull you into his body, in spite of all the eyes potentially watching. He gropes at your soft waist and hips, hands roaming and quick, kneading at your flesh and pulling soft gasps from you, You’re hardly able to keep walking, especially with how Maul has slid a sneaky gloved hand beneath your skirts, rough leather gliding up your thigh, pushing your dress up—

“Maul!” You reprimand, though there’s no bite to it, wriggling in his grasp so that he drops your skirt and gets his fingers away from the hem of your underwear. An Aqualish couple passes by the open doors, and you make very unfortunate eye contact with one of them just as Maul’s gloved hand returns to your hip. They chitter amongst themselves, and you send Maul a withering glare, face hot.

“My apologies.” Maul replies smoothly, absolutely not apologetic, and stealing a kiss as he does. You go to say something else, but Maul unexpectedly doesn’t pull away and inside dips his face to the junction of your neck and shoulder, kissing your skin as he walks you back against the wall. Your bare shoulders touch the cool metal and goosebumps pucker your skin, combined with Maul’s pleasantly hot mouth working a mark on your neck. Hands flying to his chest, you weakly push at him, attempting to pause his advances though he only looms over you further.

“To your room, please.” You whimper, back arching when Maul finishes off sucking at your neck with a small bite. His canines graze your aching skin as he pulls away, the touch having a pleasant sting to it. Maul parts, crimson and black lips brushing against yours as he does.

“My darling.” He repeats that same endearment from earlier, and as before it has you floating amongst clouds, a type of inner tranquility that makes your fingertips tingle and knees quiver. You press close to his warmth— all hard muscle and fine silken robes— hyperfixating on his hand that slides across the low of your back, locking you in place with his arm.

“I’ve never felt this way for someone before.” Maul’s voice barely reaches your ears, as lost in sensations as you are, but they do and you meet his golden eyes to see them filled with something vulnerable. Lifting a hand to caress his cheek, you smile— small, tender, there— and whisper in reply, “I’m so happy to be feeling this with you.”

Maul then grins, the fiery, wolfish one, and squeezes you tighter, then steals your breath away with another ravaged kiss. After a few moments of pure passion, he pulls away and your lips smack.

“I am going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.” Maul growls, the vulgar words so unlike him, but fitting all the same. The blush beneath your skin spreads to your neck and shoulders, making you feel hot all over. The desire plunges in your core, and you stifle an anticipatory moan by biting your bottom lip.

“Let us retire for the night, hm?” Maul teases, quite aware of the effect he’s had on you— all dewy-eyed and flushed under your skin. You nod and hum in reply, craning your head and kissing the underside of Maul’s jaw, the black skin hot, leaving behind kisses with your wet lips. He growls in the back of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he groans. He begins walking, still tethered to you by hands and mouth.

“Oh, I think we’ll be doing anything but retiring.” You say back, stealing kisses between words, attempting to keep step with Maul at the same time. Somehow, the two of you manage to stumble to the hall where Maul’s room is, on one of the higher levels of the Sundari Palace. He has his arm tight around you, hand groping your ass, and lips locked with yours and somehow Maul manages to open the door.

He pushes you through the threshold, walking you back step by step until the back of your knees hits his bed. Maul wastes no time in hooking an arm under one of your thighs, bringing your knee up to his hip, all while leaning you back to rest on his silken black sheets. You sigh when your spine hits the bed, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. Maul looms over you, his molten gaze appraising as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair tussled, lipstick smudged, dress loose at its ties and pushed up your thighs.

“My dear...” Maul purrs, and your breath hitches when his free hand raises, and the straps that hold your dress up go lax by some unseen actor. The Force pours over your body as it pulls at the ties, the bows coming undone, and rolling the top of your dress down past your collar bones. You arch your back just as the fabric stops, brushing your nipples and nearly revealing them.

“Maul, please.” You gasp, squirming before the crimson Zabrak lowers your leg and both his hands glide up your sides to cup your tits from below. His gloved thumbs roll circles on your nipples and the touch hardens them to stiff points, pulling airy breaths from your lips. Maul isn’t gentle with it, not tender, his hands are rough— hurried, almost desperate— and each roll of your nipple or squeeze of your tits promises his burning desire for you.

“Delectable, exquisite.” Maul groans, roughly tugging your dress past your boobs and rumpling it at your waist. He unintentionally breaks the zipper, the small rip catching your ear, but you have no mind to scold him— not as he leans in and sucks at your chest. You cry out as his mouth works a dark mark on your left breast, arching beneath him. Maul growls, climbs on the bed with one knee next to your body and switches to the right breast, nipping a trail on your skin.

He reaches your right nipple, taking it in between his black and red lips and grazing it with his teeth. Maul is rough, but the pleasure in you soars, not even the accidental graze of his sharp canines on your pert nipple phases you. The heat swirls in your belly, like a growing hurricane, and you rub your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your pussy. Maul, even with his ministrations, notices and shifts to place his knee between your legs. Using his thigh and the Force, he pushes your thighs apart and you whine.

“Oh, no no no... none of that, my darling.” Maul tsks, glaring at you beneath heavy eyelids, his stare teasing. He climbs fully onto the bed, one knee keeping your legs spread, the other next to you, hovering above you like a crimson incubus would to the mortal he’s about to ravish. And, oh does Maul look ravishing— his dark cloak falling around his shoulders like a wine-dark wall of shadow, his chest heaving under his robes, and not to mention the swell of his erection pushing against the fabric of his pants.

“I need you, Maul.” You whisper, eyes darting lackadaisically from his fiery stare to the bulge in his trousers that throbs, tempting and mouth-watering. You want to see his swelled cock, want to feel him deep inside you to quell the aching of your core. He seems to hear that train of thought, or at least senses it, because he anchors himself horizontal above you with one hand, and with the other he unzips his fly, a smirk on his lips.

“In due time.” Maul replies, dipping his head to press wet kisses on your sternum, his hand a fist next to your shoulder. You sigh, reveling in his hot touch and the heat that radiates off him in waves, too deliciously pleasant to try and hurry his advances. Maul kisses down your torso, nipping at the pliant flesh of your belly, then to the softness of your hips. You squirm again, gasping, but Maul pays no heed and only bites at the junction of your hip and thigh, hard.

“Maul!” You yelp his name, the pinch of his teeth sharp enough to jolt you, but not too hard that it’s overly painful. He hums a laugh and licks your irritated skin, kissing it in apology before trailing down your thigh with his tongue. Your body trembles when he reaches the smooth curve of your inner thigh, nose pressed against the bulge of your sex. Maul tilts his head, the horn on his temple poking your leg, and inhales deep through his nose.

“Fuck, you smell nectarean.” Maul growls before licking his tongue in a long, languid stripe through your folds. You cry out, his mouth latching onto your labia, his tongue lapping at your wetness, pulling groans from his throat that vibrate your weeping pussy. Maul offhandedly shimmies his shoulder beneath your thigh, diving in deeper as he does. He tongues your wet, pulsing slit, toying with the sensitive opening.

“I’ve dreamt of this— Of you— for far too long.” He murmurs between frenzied, open-mouth sucks and kisses on your cunt— your mind almost too gone to cognize what he’s saying. But the words register, and as Maul lifts your other thigh over his shoulder, your calves straddling his back, you ask breathily, “How long?”

Maul looks up at you from, a very pensive look suddenly written across his face. Your heart pangs when he turns his head to press his nose against your inner thigh, where he sighs onto your skin.

“A coward’s eternity.” The self-deprecating jab is juxtaposed by the apologetic, soft kiss he leaves on your leg and the heat of his body so near yours. It’s then you realize that he has nothing to apologize for, and that you would’ve waited for all of time, just for him.

“I see no cowards here,” You begin, voice a low whisper before you allow a broad smile to blossom across your face, “But I do see a very handsome Zabrak lord between my legs.”

Maul grins, his teeth grazing your thigh’s skin, and he nips at your flesh. It causes you to jerk and giggle, doing so again when he continues to nip and bite, very lightly, at your inner thighs.

You continue, a laugh in your throat, “A Zabrak lord who is also unimaginably bull-headed, so that’s why he took so long—!”

Unexpectedly, Maul bites a bit harder and you yelp, knee twitching as Maul holds his teeth on your skin and sucks. The hickey he leaves is dark and near-pulsing on your skin, and while it’s sore, the pain doesn’t phase you. If anything, the slight sting and Maul’s hungry eyes do the exact opposite. Your lips curl into a seductive smirk.

“Show me how much you’ve wanted this.” And with that, you tilt your hips, pushing your wet cunt up, like your some wanton Loth cat in heat. Maul all but snarls with a type of ferocity that he usually levels at those dare cross him. But here, in his bed between your soft thighs, the challenge is seeing just how loud he can make you scream for him.

“Gladly.” He hisses, and then his mouth his back on your throbbing pussy with a fervor, his tongue swirling your clit. You arch your back with a low moan, choking on air when Maul latches his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks, his contented hums reaching your ears. His tongue dips, teases your slit, then licks through your folds, then repeats.

"Ma—aul!" You weep his name, hands fumbling until your fingers lace between his horns. He breathes a laugh when you pull his face closer to your dripping core, hastening his ministrations when you cry out again. Maul places one of his hands on your thigh to hold you open, for him, his delectable meal unmatched.

Your chest is heaving, the feel of Maul's lips and tongues nearly too much to bear over the tight coil building up in your belly. Maul angles his jaw and the sloppy, open mouth kisses, akin to a hound lapping up its meal, have your thighs quivering. You squeeze your eyes shut so tight you see stars, eyebrows furrowed, your pussy throbbing and throbbing...

"I'm gonna—" You pant, airy and high-pitched, "I'm gonna... cum!"

You wail, Maul's fingers squeezing your thigh muscle hard, and come like you've never had before. Even though your eyes are closed, it's like all you see is a blinding light, each of your senses gone into hyperdrive. Wetness gushes from your cunt and soaks Maul's working mouth. He growls again, grinding his raging boner to the mattress as your thighs squeeze around his head as you ride out your orgasm, hips bucking unconsciously.

It’s as the last of the stars behind your eyes fade do you realize Maul has taken to licking up every last drop of your release. Your legs are shaking, inner thighs and sex glossy and sticky, and Maul is in the midst of it all, purring with satisfaction. Weakly, you lift your head to gaze down at him, bleary-eyed, and he offers you a cheeky grin, a dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“I must say, my dear, you taste quite good.” He says, planting a kiss on your hot, still pulsing pussy lips, causing you to whimper. The Zabrak kisses your clit and you gasp, and he continues with utmost pride, “And I must say that I am quite proud of myself for attaining such a dessert.”

That pulls a laugh from your throat, one that Maul smothers after he’s kissed up your body and locked his lips with yours. It’s scandalous, the way that you taste the tang of yourself on his tongue, how you moan when you notice it. Maul hums into your mouth, a low rumble that you feel in his chest, where your hands fall to tug at his clothes.

“And why are you still wearing all your heavy robes hm?” You tease, kissing Maul’s chin, then the sharp edge of his jaw, all while you unclip one of the clasps of his cloak. He meets your stare and undoes the other, unceremoniously tossing the cloak to the floor. You watch with bated breath as he rises above you and slowly pulls off his robes, revealing his beautiful skin and muscle.

Maul’s bare chest is no stranger to you, but the rest of his torso is often covered by his wide belts. Now, you somewhat understand why— a jagged, gruesome scar travels from his right side to his navel, a line of swollen red flesh that mars his midnight tattoos. You’ve heard snippets of what happened to him from Savage, but looking at what the damage had caused, Maul’s injury is worse than anything you had ever imagined.

“Does it disgust you?” Maul asks quietly, and you jolt, embarrassment flooding you when you realize that you’ve been staring for much too long. There’s an emotion you can’t read on his face, one halfway between sadness and shame. Shaking your head, you hastily sit up so that you’re level with Maul, placing an apologetic kiss to his sternum.

“No! Never.” You insist, shuffling close, your hands gliding down to Maul’s tapered waist, then to his belly. He stiffens when your fingers reach the scar, and out of the corner of your eye you see his hand twitch, as if it was going to snatch your wrists and stop you. They don’t, and your palms come to rest on his scar, one of your pinky fingers brushing his belly button.

“Nothing about you disgusts me.” You say in earnest, leaning down and kissing the marred skin between your hands. Maul sucks in a sharp breath, and with your head so close to his body you can hear his hearts pound in his chest, powerful like two steady drums. You smile against his skin, taking this moment to kiss the scar again, then below it, then another below the last. Before long, you’ve followed the V point of his Adonis belt to just above his waistband.

“Minx.” He growls, grabbing you somewhat roughly by your chin and halting your advances. You pout, his swelled erection beneath his pants taunting you— so close, yet so far. Maul swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, humming.

“I want to suck you off, Maul.” You whimper, Maul’s hand gripping your jaw tighter, angling your head up. His eyes are pools of liquid magma, a fire so bright within that it almost hurts to look directly at them— like staring into the twin suns of Tatooine, but you can’t help but bask in their light. His black-tipped fingers are warm on your skin like coals.

“... How kind.” Maul purrs after a stretch of quiet, caressing your cheek, “But tonight I ravish you.”

An invisible force suddenly pulls you flat on your back and flush against the mattress, a yelp escaping you. It holds you firm and unmoving on the bed, an intangible aura trapping your wrists above your head. Maul licks his lips, smirking at how you quiver under the Force’s hold, all due to him.

“My darling,” He continues, leaning in and placing kisses to your heaving chest as he’d done before, “This is all for you— I am all for you.”

A whine passes your kiss-swollen lips when Maul sucks another dark mark onto your skin, all while he climbs atop you. As he does, Maul shimmies out from his pants until the black fabric falls to his knees— revealing his length in all its glory.

Of course he hadn’t worn underwear, instead opting for the more breathable— and wicked— alternative of forgoing them. Your body practically quakes with the anticipatory excitement that floods you when you see Maul’s cock. A perfect shaft, the length of it swollen and tattooed like the rest of him, uncut and rosy at it’s tip. A gift from his Zabrak biology, Maul’s erection has three visible ridges, each wider than the last until the base of it. Dribbles of precum slide down the slit in a way that makes you whimper.

“Maul.” You almost sob his name, moaning when you see his heavy balls between his legs, “Please.”

Maul groans at your needy, desperate plea— restraining himself from going all in and ending the session too quickly. One of his arms slithers beneath your waist while the other hand anchors itself next to your shoulder. In his grasp, your overheated body is nothing compared to his hotness, like the Zabrak before you is the physical embodiment of the sun.

“All for you.” Maul repeats through grit teeth and a low groan, his hips pressing closer, the tip of his cock hot and heavy at your weeping pussy. You cry out when he thrusts in— only the tip— your slit accommodating to his size. The stretch is neither painful nor too much— Maul is a perfect fit and there’s nothing that couldn’t pass your dripping entrance. You angle your hips, and his cock slips in past the first ridge and you moan at the exquisite stretch.

A bead of sweat at his brow from holding in for so long, Maul’s lips pull into a snarl and he takes your eagerness and lack of pain as a go ahead. In one thrust of his pelvis, he spears you on his cock and knocks the wind from your lungs. You scream, fully engrossed in how your walls flutter around his erection, especially at how each ridge practically caresses the most sensitive parts of you.

Maul roars himself, the throaty growl tapering out into a near-pitiful moan of your name, and then he pulls his hips back, and thrusts back in with a fervor. The wet squelch is heard even over your airy moans, and as Maul picks up speed, his concentration falters and your wrists are freed from their invisible shackles. As Maul’s face falls to the side of your neck, your hands grasp at his head.

Fingers wringing his horns, an overwhelming ecstasy overtaking you, a harmonic rhythm is reached— Maul’s hips smack against yours wetly, his cock splitting you open and you, pussy throbbing and clenching around his pistoning length. You tug at his horns, eyes lolled up, begging him silently Kiss me, Maul, kiss me.

You Zabrak acknowledges, and his lips find yours— sloppy, no sense of decorum— all until you’re breathing the air he exhales, and tasting what he tastes of. Bodies rocking in time, the coil in your belly returns quickly, growing tighter and tighter with each sin push and wicked pull of his cock in your core. He groans when you clench around him, squeezing his aching length like a vice and stoking the fire in his belly as well.

“Maul.” You manage to gasp his name between kisses, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes, “Maul!”

“Yours.” He pants to the skin of your cheek, his breath hot and damp, all before he croaks a groan as if its been ripped from his throat and his rhythm stutters. You squeak, toes curling, your peak quickly approaching as you drag one hand down to clasp tight over the back of his neck. The muscle and tendons are taut under your fingers.

It’s then that Maul brings his hand out from under you, fingers sliding over your sweaty, overheated skin, all to reach your pulsing, swollen clit. His thumb finds the bundle of nerves and rubs circles, and you scream his name— eyes flying wide, body jerking— and the heat in your belly soars. Maul smashes his lips to yours again in a searing kiss as he thrusts harder, faster, rolls your clit under his thumb as if his life depends on it.

The harmonic rhythm breaks into something erratic, frantic— wild like two beasts in the wilderness, or two frenzied people chasing their heart’s desires. His mouth breaks away from yours, his pelvis snaps against you, just as the spring inside you snaps, and you come with a silent scream that breaks into a hoarse squeal.

It’s a better orgasm than the first— a gush of wetness between your thighs and coating Maul’s cock, vision going black until the stars of midnight show, muscles tensing and shaking with the force of it—

“Ungh!” Maul chokes when your pussy clenches so tight around his dick that it actually stops his undulating hips and pushes him to orgasm, pulling his full balls up tight to his body. Still high in the clouds, you whimper when you feel Maul’s fire-hot cum shoot into you with a hard spurt, coating your inner sex in liquid gold. One, two, three more ropes of cum enter you, each brought by a hard snap of Maul’s hips to yours, until his testicles are drained and his pistoning hips slow to a shallow grind.

In the midst of your foggy mind, you have it in you to rub your hands up and down Maul’s tense back, gently massaging each muscle. The action grounds the both of you, the rhythmic glides and smoothness of your hands pulling you both back from your highs. As your orgasm fades and your vision refocuses, you meet Maul’s stare.

His eyes are dewy, as if he’s just woken up, but you can recognize that deep, pleasant satisfaction from anywhere. You smile, a big, dopey one as if you’ve taken too much spice, and Maul does the same— the wide one, dimples and all. Your hands stop to rest on the backs of his shoulders, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles on his slightly sweaty skin.

“Oh, my darling.” Maul’s voice is surprisingly gentle, warm, and he swoops in for another breathless kiss, “I am yours forever.”

This kiss is soft, gentle on your overworked and achy lips, but so tender in its nature you practically preen at the attention. Maul reaches up to brush strands of hair from your face, ones that stuck to your damp temples, and you kiss him in thanks. His cock, still nestled within you, twitches.

“I’m so happy with you, Maul. No words can describe it.” You murmur, head lolling to the side as the crimson Zabrak kisses the side of your neck, as well as each mark he left on your skin. He hums in reply, kissing beneath your earlobe as his chest begins to rumble with purrs.

“I feel the same.” Maul says, and he shifts his body, his cock dragging against your hypersensitive walls and causing you to gasp in pleasure. Your grip on his shoulder tighten, and Maul laughs low in his throat. His blistering gaze meets yours, suddenly looking very much as he had earlier.

“May we continue our... bonding experience?” He teases, rocking his body once just to gage how you react to his swelling erection. You gasp and throw your head back into the inky sheets below you, legs drawing up to your body until your thighs find a home on Maul’s waist.

He must have no refractory period, but the way his warm, hard body and the sinful way you feel his seed leak from you makes you buzz with energy. From your head to your toes, you desire Maul like no other. You lift your head off the mattress, and grin coquettishly.

“The night has just begun.” You say cockily, and before you can even take your next breath, Maul has smothered your lips with his. Muffled giggles, soft moans, and the shuffles of sheets and clothes fill the room— carrying out to the night sky through the open windows, on the breeze that the floor-length blinds shiver in— like two bodies tethered with one another.

Indeed, the night is very long.

And it is immensely hard to walk the next day.

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