I watched Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.  I found the Master-Apprentice archives and seriously overdosed myself on Q/O.  Then I found the Sith Academy.

        I've started five M/O stories, but I haven't finished any of them.  The best one is long and written on paper, and I don't have the time right now to type it.  I'll give you two of the other stories here.

        If you aren't into Siubhan's Sith Academy, these two stories may not make too much sense.  If you aren't into Maul/Obi-Wan, you should be.

        I'm posting these two half-fics because I mentioned the sexual uses of the padawan braid and someone said that I had better be writing a story about it.  Well, I am writing about it...in the long story that's on paper.  Sorry.  Does this make up for it?

Begun May 1, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for male-male sex (interspecies)

Pairing: Maul/Obi-Wan

Disclaimer: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, with its characters and themes, does not belong to me.  I make no money from this venture.  A lot of the other ideas come from the Sith Academy.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor.  This time, I really mean it.

Wherein...

Notice: As noted above, I'm using ideas from Siubhan's Sith Academy.  If you're not familiar with the premise, you may be a bit confused.  Should I put up an extra warning for the interspecies sex?

        Then, out of the fog and flashing lights, an arm came around his waist and a voice murmured in his ear, "Maul, you are such hot shit."

        What flashed across his mind was, "God, Kenobi, what took you so long?" but he said, in all truth, "I know."  Obi-Wan chuckled.  He was still dancing, and Obi-Wan was dancing too, and it was a lot like having sex - - hell, with Obi-Wan, sometimes just looking into those eyes was like having sex.

        People-creatures were beginning to clear the space around them, backing away somewhat to stare.  Maul didn't mind; he was inspiring lust and envy, and that was just great.

        Then Obi-Wan was in front of him, and this definitely felt familiar, only he'd always done it in Obi-Wan's bed and not in public.  Obi-Wan's cock was just as hard as his was, which only made sense, considering Maul's ass had been grinding against it.

        Finally he looked up into Obi-Wan's eyes.  (Why was he always forgetting that the padatwit was bigger than he was?)  Wow.  A whole lot of lust there.  As it should be.  Anyone doing an extremely lewd and highly erotic bump and grind with Darth Maul should be feeling great amounts of lust.

        Now that he'd established that, it was time to Insert Cock.

        "Maul, I have to go."

        "You what?"  He was growling.  He extricated himself from their dancing embrace just to see pain spark across those eyes.

        "I'm sorry, Maul, I can't-" yeah, that's right, lick your lips, you'd better be nervous, you little "-see you tonight-" oh, is that what you call it? "-because I'm leaving.  There's a mission, I-"

        "So go."

        "Maul, I'm sorry."

        Darth Maul did not mind making a spectacle of himself in an impressive display of sexual or athletic prowess, and he was used to being stared at - - there were many life forms in the universe, but not one like him, and he got stared at a lot.  But he did not like it when someone else made him a spectacle.  Everyone who'd been watching in lust and jealousy now was watching with curiosity and amusement, and that just made the rage rip right through him.  He grabbed Obi-Wan's wrist and hauled Obi-Wan across the floor.  He growled and the corner cleared out to give them privacy.  They didn't need much privacy, as it turned out.  Maul let go of Obi-Wan's wrist, turned, and with a ferocious snarl, smacked Obi-Wan across the face.  Hard.  Really hard.

        Then he left.

        He'd never hit Obi-Wan before then.  They'd never gotten violent with each other.  Of course Obi-Wan did a lot of things that pissed him off (Qui-Gon), and he was a Sith, but he'd never physically attacked Obi-Wan.

        The apartment beside his was empty for a week and a half.  Then Maul wakened one morning and heard voices through the wall.

        Obi-Wan and Ben-Wa?

        He stroked his anger as he listened.  He hated Ben-Wa.  The kid had a major case of Hoovermouth but no other half-decent qualities.  Besides, Maul could get a better blowjob elsewhere (Obi-Wan) with much better technique.  Some people (one person) could draw it out longer, make it interesting, make him want it (scream beg whimper) and use...tongue...

        He was supposed to be stroking his anger, honing his rage, not his - - damn it!  This was what happened when a virile young man didn't get regular (every Friday) sex (and sometimes more often, sometimes on Tuesdays, too, if) - shut up! - (and sometimes on Monday, or Wednesday, and remember that one Thursday) - shut up! - (But Maul, remember that Thursday?  When) - shut up shut up shut up!

        Ben-Wa was staying, it seemed.  The little padawannabe was living in Obi-Wan's apartment.  Sleeping in Obi-Wan's bed.  With Obi-Wan.  The first night Maul had listened with curiosity and amusement (anger and jealousy) as Ben-Wa tried to get Obi-sex and Obi-Wan refused very firmly.

        Aside from the whole incest issue, the idea of that little shit touching anything on his Obi-Wan (better stop before your brain registers jealousy and possessiveness).

        Besides, Obi-Wan wasn't his.  Obi-Wan was his on Fridays on temporary loan from Qui-Gon.  Obi-Wan belonged to Qui-Gon Jism and he had to remember that.

        (And Qui-Gon would never hit Obi-Wan.)

        Shut up!!

        Qui-Gon wasn't around much, though.  Maybe Qui-Gon was as turned off by Ben-Wa as Maul was.  At least now Maul didn't have to listen to sex through the wall anymore.  The sound of Qui-Gon getting it on was just too bellowy and slurpy and disgusting for anyone, even a trained Sith.  And the sound of Obi-Wan being fucked (not by you) just made Maul so grossed out (angry jealous in so much fucking pain that he couldn't breathe) that he felt ill for the rest of the day.  Sometimes it actually made him vomit.

        He relaxed on his bed and closed his eyes.  Time for sleep.  Maybe time for masturbation?  After all, it was a very Sithly thing, masturbation.  Even if the person who did it best wasn't a Sith at all but-

        "Obi-Wan?"

        Damned thin walls.

        "Doesn't your friend Maul live around here?"

        "Yes."

        They must be in bed.  Obi-Wan's bed.  In Obi-Wan's bedroom.  He knew it as well as his own.

        "I thought that I saw him.  Next door?"

        "Yes."

        "Doesn't he ever come over to visit?"  Ben-Wa sounded way too innocently casual.

        "I haven't seen him recently."

        "That's too bad.  I liked Maul.  I really liked Maul."  Unfiltered lust was seeping rapidly into Ben-Wa's tone.  Maul liked inspiring great lust, but not in pathetic grasping clueless losers.  Ben-Wa was not worthy.

        "Go to sleep."

        "How can I sleep when he's right next door?"

        "Go to sleep."  Silence.  Snore (Ben-Wa).  Sigh (Obi-Wan).  Apparently Obi-Wan was not above using a Jedi mind whammy.  Why, to avoid talking about Maul?  And that sigh, it sounded resigned.  Obi-Wan resigned?

        The next day Maul returned from running in his tank top and layered shorts, showing off every tattooed muscle, just slick enough with sweat to be sexy and not gross.  He was about to enter his apartment when the door beside him opened.

        "Oh, Maul."  Oozing with pleased, surprised lust, Ben-Wa gazed at him.

        He grunted.

        "Have you finished exercising?  Would you like to work out with me?"

        Less than subtle.  No finesse, no class, no style, "No way."

        "Just once?  Obi-Wan won't be home for hours and I get so lonely in here, Maul."  Ben-Wa pouted at him.

        "So play with the hamsters."

        "But, Maul, they don't have your...presence."

        "Thank god for that."

        "When was the last time you came?  No, let me ask that again: when was the last time you came with somebody else?"

        "Oh, god, force, Maul, please-"

        Maul growled.  "Fuck off."

        "Please do."  Ben-Wa's hand came closer, towards Maul's chest.  Maul jerked away, but Ben-Wa's other hand grasped his naked bicep and the first hand came up between his thighs.

        Okay, it had been a while since he'd been with anyone but his hand.  Masturbation was very Sithly, but the one person who masturbated best was Obi-Wan.  Maul had witnessed the most erotic, stimulating, cum-producing display ever when Obi-Wan masturbated one night.  Obi-Wan had used the force, but even the unenhanced parts made Maul so hot his blood boiled.  And that was what he was thinking of when he came down Ben-Wan's throat as Obi-Wan entered the apartment.

        Ben-Wa put a lingering hand to Maul's sex, licking used lips, smiling up at Obi-Wan.  "You're home early."

        Obi-Wan did something that Maul hadn't expected: grabbed Ben-Wa by the back of the neck with one hand and threw Ben-Wa towards the door.  "Get the fuck off of my boyfriend!"

        Maul managed to pull up his shorts.  "I'm not yours."  Jealous and possessive Obi-Wan was new.

        "Get your bags and go," Obi-Wan ordered Ben-Wa.  "You may stay with Master Qui-Gon.  He'll-"

        "Master Qui-Gon?" Maul repeated.  "What happened to Qui-Gon, Quiggy, or 'Oh, oohhh, Qui-Gon,'" he moaned in false appreciation.

        Obi-Wan turned red.  Ben-Wa giggled.  Maul smirked.  Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders, turned to Ben-Wa, and said firmly, "Get out, Ben-Wa."

        Ben-Wa was gone within a minute.

        Someone had been reading the Jedi handbook.  Quite an impressive display of persuasion and intimidation.  No mind whammy, though.

        Something was very wrong here.  No multi-syllabic "Nooo!"  No watering eyes.  No melodramatic "How could you do this to me?!"  Initial anger-induced loss of control, but now the control was back.  Obi-Wan looked very stoic.  But Maul could see extreme anger and even more pain.  To anyone else, Obi-Wan might have looked like someone holding back a "Fuck!", but Maul knew Obi-Wan, or at least thought that he did, and to Maul, Obi-Wan looked like someone about to kill him.

        Maul stood from the sofa to gain an advantage.  Shit, Obi-Wan was still bigger than he was.

        He felt Obi-Wan's hurt and anger vying for the majority.  Ever so gradually, they were diminishing.  Diminishing?  He looked at Obi-Wan for an explanation.  All of the pain vanished, and with it the anger.  He groped for anything vaguely bad and came up with sadness.  With it came understanding, acceptance, and determination.  Oh, gross!  No no no - - what was the stupid padatwit doing?!  Obi-Wan should be furious, yes, and hurt, pained and raged and jealous and feeling all sorts of lovely rich betrayal!  What was this peace love and understanding crap?!

        (Warning, warning: back away from the L-word.  Warning, warning...)

        "He was better than I remember," Maul said.

        "Why did you let him?"

        "Gotta get it somewhere."

        "Did you kiss him?"

        "Hell no.  I don't...  No."  Maul crossed his arms over his chest.  Damn it, should have lied.  Should've said yes, I did kiss him.  But kissing wasn't Sithly.  Getting a blowjob was one thing, but kissing?  Sith did not kiss.

        Of course, he'd spent an inordinate amount of time sucking face with Obi-Wan; and it just wasn't a Friday if he didn't have padatongue in his mouth by midnight.

        But now he'd made it sound as though kissing weren't part of his usual sexual escapades, as though Obi-Wan were special in some way.  Damn it.

        (Sexual escapades?  Whom are you kidding?)

        "You don't what, Maul?  You don't kiss?  You kiss me."

        Maul shrugged, defensive, ready to be belligerent.

        "Why do you kiss me?"

        (You taste good.)  "I don't kiss you, I used to kiss you, and only because it got you in bed faster."

        "I don't remember it being very hard for you to get me in bed," Obi-Wan said with an almost-smile.

        "I should thank Qui-Gon for training you so well."

        "My feelings for and responses to you and Master Qui-Gon are very different."

        "Yeah, you call out, 'Oh, Qui-Gon' for him and, 'Oh, Maul' for me.  You haven't been yelling much of anything lately.  Brother cramping your style?  And aren't you afraid that Ben'll steal Qui-Gon?  You'd better go make sure that your beloved master isn't swapping sloppies with Ben-Wa."  Maul left.  Through the wall dividing them, he felt Obi-Wan's frustration mount, then dissipate.  Obi-Wan's emotional control had improved greatly since their intial involvement.

        Later that evening, Maul heard voices next door.  He became still and quiet, listening.

        "Your brother makes for an interesting guest, Obi-Wan."

        "He hasn't bothered you too much?"

        "He seems infatuated with your neighbor."

        "I knew that he was interested, but I hoped that it was curiosity."

        "They've been together, from what Ben-Wa says."

        "Sounds to me like there were a few one-sided blowjobs.  Maul doesn't even kiss him."

        "Not to speculate on your sexual activities, Obi-Wan, but is Maul the kissing type?"

        "He kissed me a lot.  Maul likes kissing very much."

        "Past tense.  You still haven't connected with him?"

        "He's making it as difficult as he can."

        "That sounds typical."

        "Very."

        "Maybe you should leave him to Ben-Wa and find yourself someone else."

        "Someone else, Master? Someone else?  Do you mean to imply-"

        "All right, Obi-Wan, you don't need to get silly.  Stick with Maul if you like.  Consider it part of your Trials."

        "If I can make it through this, and get Maul to care for me, I deserve a seat on the Council.  But just having Maul will be enough."

        "Having Maul?  He wouldn't resist that notion of ownership?"

        "He's mine," Obi-Wan replied with great calm and more steel.  Maul tried to recall having heard Obi-Wan use that voice, and decided that it had been newly acquired.

        The awareness slammed into Maul so hard that it left him stunned.  Obi-Wan had gone Jedi.  Real Jedi.  Brilliant and capable and confident and mature and everything that was so good and so so strong that everyone else stepped back with awe.  Real Jedi were empathetic and compassionate and had a serious don't-fuck-with-me edge honed as sharp as a Sith's rage.

        Jedi.  No wonder Obi-Wan'd shown such great emotional control.  And clearly Obi-Wan's relationship with Jinn was drastically different, though they still seemed quite close.

        Obi-Wan wanted Maul. "He's mine."  Maul sat heavily on his sofa.

        (You're totally fucked.)

        My Apprentice graced him with her presence.  He waited for her ever-pleasing commentary, but for once she had nothing to say.  In fact, she seemed as disturbed (scared shitless) as he was.

        Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

        He'd sort of expected Obi-Wan to remain a cute padatwit, with alarming mood swings and more alarming perkiness and no clue whatsoever.

        He hadn't anticipated that Obi-Wan might grow up overnight into a handsome (stop drooling) mature way too smart don't fuck with me Jedi (you're still drooling).  But that's what he found when the door opened.  (Someone get a bib - - no, a mop and bucket.)

        "Maul."

        "Is your brother ever coming back?"

        "Not any time soon."

        "Where's your compassion?'

        "I'll learn compassion when he learns to keep his hands to himself."

        "Jealous?"

        "Frustrated more than anything else."

        "With yourself?"

        "With you."

        "What have I done?"

        "Come inside so the entire hallway doesn't hear us."

        Maul strolled into Obi-Wan's apartment.  Behind him, Obi-Wan closed the door.  He sat on the sofa and waited, idly picking at a black fingernail.  Actually, his fingernails were more like claws, and he could draw blood very easily.  Still, he remembered lightly scraping those claws down Obi-Wan's chest, the naked padawan's body arching off of the bed towards his touch.  He'd leaned forward and put his lips-

        "Maul, are you listening to me?"

        "If you say anything worth hearing," and his tone suggested how unlikely that was.

        "We always had sex in my apartment.  Never yours.  And every time, I thought that maybe this time you'd stay.  But when I opened my eyes, I was alone.  Do you know how that made me feel, Maul?"

        "No, but I'm sure that you'll tell me."  He was looking at an area near Obi-Wan's left calf, and slumped on the sofa in his best sullen attitude.

        "Like a toilet."  The words were said flatly, no heated accusation, no whimpering tears.  The more Maul tought about those three words, the more he hated them.  A toilet, that was just a place where he automatically deposited his waste, just aim and piss, unthinking action until he was satisfied and left.

        Aim and piss.

        Insert cock.

        "It wasn't like that," he mumbled towards Obi-Wan's right kneecap.  "You came, too, and there was...foreplay.  All of that kissing and petting.  And you, I gave you...blowjobs, and you..."  He swallowed.  "Fucked me."

        "You said yourself that the kissing was only to get me where you wanted me."

        "But you liked it," Maul accused.

        "Maul, why didn't we ever have sex in your apartment?"

        "Since when do you say 'have sex?'" he grumbled.

        "To me, it was making love.  To you, it was fucking.  'Sex' is a compromise.  Answer my question."

        "Your apartment's right here.  Yours is cleaner."

        "Why did you leave me every time?"

        "I had to piss, I needed a shower, I didn't feel like lying there all day.  But I did stay to sleep," he added quickly.

        "Only because if I make you come hard enough you can't move," Obi-Wan said with a tinge of a smile.

        "Why are we talking about this?" Maul asked.

        "Did your leaving me every morning have anything to do with you not wanting to be caught in bed with me?"

        "Everyone knows we're fucking," Maul said.  (Um, Maul, you just used the present tense.)

        "Why aren't we anymore?"

        Maul's gaze shot up to Obi-Wan's eyes in surprise.

        "Have you found someone else to meet your needs?"

        "I haven't looked."

        "There's always my brother."

        Something clicked in Maul's brain.  "He's a toilet."  Did Obi-Wan feel like that?  Had he treated Obi-Wan the way he treated Ben-Wa?  But they were entirely different, there was no comparison; Ben-Wa was like a prostitute not worth the money, a good way to get off but no more.  And Obi-Wan was...was...(everything)...was more.  And Obi-Wan was standing much closer now.

        "I haven't had sex in three weeks," Obi-wan said, and crouched before him.  "Maul...today's Friday."

        With a quick snarl, Maul grabbed Obi-Wan and lunged forward, kissing Obi-Wan hard.  Obi-wan's back hit the floor and Maul jerked down Obi-Wan's pants.  Suddenly the room spun and he was on his back, Obi-Wan on top of him, and he planted his feet on the floor and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, kissing deep and fast, his hips coming off of the floor to thrust against Obi-Wan's.  Obi-Wan almost bit off his tongue, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him still.  Half-rolling, half-crawling, sporadically undressing along the way, barely coming up for air, they made it to Obi-Wan's bedroom, then onto the bed.

        Obi-Wan stopped kissing him.  Maul's eyes opened.  "Get back here."

        "I'm getting the lubricant."

        Maul growled.

        Obi-Wan returned, climbing on top of him, lube in hand.  "I know that you don't need it, and you find it unnecessarily messy, but some of us do need it."

        "Lube is for wimps."

        "Lube is for intelligent people who don't like pain.  Open up.  Come on, having my fingers up your ass is going to feel good and you know it."

        Maul crossed his arms over his chest and glowered, but raised and spread his knees.

        "Maul, may I ask you a question?"

        "Would you just fuck me?!"  For that he got naked padawan against him and on him and in him, and he didn't know if he'd ever breathe correctly again because he kept making these aching, shuddering sounds.  Then he screamed, and came.

        Obi-Wan was kissing him again, and he turned onto his side and kissed Obi-Wan back, draping one muscular arm over Obi-Wan's naked side.

        "Maul?"

        No more kisses?  He opened his eyes and waited.

        "Maul, do you not use lube because you don't need it and don't like it, or because you like the pain?"

        "I don't need it.  There's no pain.  Lubing and stretching is foreplay, not necessary."

        "You don't like foreplay?"

        "It delays orgasm."

        "And you like orgasms," Obi-Wan said, smiling and kissing him.  "Maul?"

        "You're testing my patience, Kenobi."

        "You don't like pain?  You don't want S&M?"

        "I never tried it."  He ran his fingers acrosss Obi-wan's back, then up the spinal column.  Jedi had good posture.  Obi-Wan's back was warm and silky, and there were muscles, and Obi-Wan's spine was one long concave arch.

        "You don't want to?"

        "Not particularly."  Oh, damn it, there was that stupid-ass little ponytail.  This boy needed a haircut.  That hairstyle was one of the various major clues that the Jedi were a pack of imbeciles.

        "Maul?"

        Now here was that little cleft in Obi-Wan's chin.  It was one of the unique things about Obi-Wan, and one of the inoffensive things about Obi-Wan.  "Kenobi, are you trying to ask me to chain you up and whip you?"

        "No."  Obi-Wan looked startled.

        "Are you trying to tell me that you want to chain me up and whip me?"  He moved his gaze to Obi-Wan's blue eyes and made clear the right answer to that question.

        Obi-Wan was smart enough to say, "No," with the correct degree of firmness, surprise, and incredulity.  "Maul, I just wondered if sex with me is good enough for you.  I thought that maybe you have other needs."

        "What I need is someone who doesn't babble in bed."  He rolled, getting himself on top of Obi-Wan's body.

Begun August 10, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male interspecies sex

Pairing: Maul/Obi-Wan

Disclaimer: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, with its related characters and themes, belongs to George Lucas, not to me.  The Sith Academy, with its related characters and themes, belongs to Siubhan, not to me.  I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and Siubhan.

Wherein Obi-Wan gets hot and naked; Maul gets hot and naked; and the writer drools on the keyboard.

Notice: I've borrowed liberally from Siubhan's Sith Academy and the canon from that world as created by Siubhan and her sister writers in crime.  However, for the purposes of this fiction Obi-Wan never got it on with Qui-Gon.

        He sighed.  He'd never get Obi-Wan naked unless he got Obi-Wan to stop pacing and storming.  He really didn't want to sit and play Jedi therapist, but it was for a Sithly cause, so...  Just this once.

        My Apprentice looked at him.

        Really, just this once.  And he wasn't trying to make Obi-Wan feel better; he just wanted sex, and sex would make him feel better.  Sex with Obi-Wan made him feel much, much better.

        But not for any of those mushy Jedi reasons.  It probably had something to do with conquering the Jedi, and that was a very Sithly reason.  Fucking a Jedi was a victory for a Sith.  Besides, it wasn't like the two sides of the battle coming together for joyous lovemaking or union, it was more like the conqueror...conquering.  Or celebrating his victory.  Like-

        -oh god no.

        "Maul?  Are you okay?"

        He glared at Obi-Wan.  "I'm fine."

        "Are-"

        He grit his teeth.  "I...am...fine."  At least now he had Obi-Wan's attention.  "What's wrong with you?"  Time to fix Obi-Wan's preoccupations and get to sex.

        Obi-Wan frowned.  "Master Qui-Gon doesn't trust me."

        "Of course he doesn't trust you.  You're fucking a Sith."

        Obi-Wan stormed right.  "He doesn't know that."  A pause.  Obi-Wan looked at him.  "That wasn't a very good argument, was it?"

        He smiled condescendingly.  "No, it wasn't."

        "Do you think I'm a bad Jedi?"

        "For fucking a Sith?"

        "Everything except that part."

        "Except for that part, you're the best Jedi I know.  That's why I'm fucking you.  I don't want one of those hippies or one of those bureaucrats.  I want one kick-ass Jedi motherfucker."

        Obi-Wan grinned.  "Thanks."

        "So why doesn't he trust you?"

        "You know how some people play the tarmigan with flawless technique and beautiful sound but they don't feel the music?  Their musical expression is...canned."

        "Don't metaphor me, Obi-Wan, just talk."

        "Sorry.  Qui-Gon doesn't think that I'm in touch with the living force.  I have everything else, I can do everything else, but I'm not - - I don't get it!  Why can't I feel the living force?  You do it.  You're so in tune you practically are the living force.  If Qui-Gon knew he'd be jealous."

        "Obi-Wan, if Qui-Gon knew he'd be jealous of a little more than how I feel the living force.  He'd be jealous of how I feel the living padawan."

        "Oh, please.  Can you tell me how you do it?  How do you reach it?  Do you tap into it consciously?"

        "It's not my job to teach you these things.  I'm pretty sure it's my job to stop you from learning these things."

        Pages began to flap.  He threw a spoonful of ice cream across the room.  Obi-Wan, used to his battles with the handbook, didn't even blink.

        "But you're very connected to the flow of the force.  I think that's a large part of your grace and your power and your aura," Obi-Wan said.

        "And my sex appeal."

        "And your sex appeal."

        He shrugged, spooning more Rocky Road.  "It's a living."

        "But how do you do it?"

        "It's not something to turn on and off, Obi-Wan, it's something to learn to cope with and - - never mind, why am I lecturing you, you know this already."

        "Yes, I do.  It's frustrating.  It's like - - sorry, no similes, either."

        "Thanks."  Obi-Wan was looking at him oddly.  "What?"

        Obi-Wan blushed but smiled.  "I like your interest in chocolate."

        "For weird Jedi purposes?"

        "Because it tastes good when I kiss you."

        He wasn't sure whether it was because of the words or the quietly aroused tone or the slightly stirring hunger in Obi-Wan's eyes, but he was starting to get hard.  As a Sith, he was very familiar with lust and passion, and he could keep a tight rein on his own libido, but he couldn't do a thing about Obi-Wan's, and something about an aroused Obi-Wan always broke the reins.  Great, now he was using figurative language, too.

        "So you're saying normally I taste bad?"

        "Of course not.  It's just different.  The chocolate's very sweet, and normally you taste...you taste how you sound."

        "Don't bother to explain.  I just don't want to know.  Can we have sex now?"

        "Oh.  Sorry.  I have-"

        He wanted sex, not excuses.  "No sex?"  Why was Obi-Wan over here, then?

        "No sex."

        "That sucks.  I knew I hated you."

        "Sorry."  Obi-Wan kissed him, one hand sliding down his back, the other on the counter.  His red-and-black fingers slid through Obi-Wan's hair as he licked across Obi-Wan's mouth.  Felt so good, so good, more, more, more.  "Maul?"

        He made an interrogative noise into Obi-Wan's mouth.

        "I have to go."

        Too fucking bad.  He slipped his hand into Obi-Wan's pants and curled his fingers around Obi-Wan's cock.  He could feel Obi-Wan's desire for him turning into lust.  Such a good thing.

        "Please."

        "Yes or no?" he asked, nibbling at Obi-Wan's lower lip.

        "Yes," Obi-Wan said.

        He let go and gave Obi-Wan a push; before Obi-Wan could mistake his meaning he slid down from the counter and dropped to his knees.

        The handbook's pages riffled wildly, trying to find an instance where this sort of behavior was even mildly acceptable.

        Maul stroked Obi-Wan's pelvic bone with his fingers as his tongue slid over the head of Obi-Wan's cock.  Well, enough of that; they were pressed for time.  Best to make it quick.  He relaxed his throat - - there were certain unanticipated advantages to being a force user, and being able to exercise great control over one's body was one of them - - and swallowed Obi-Wan, suckling, eyes closing.

        Here it came.  He knew the routine by now: pant pant shudder gasp gasp-gasp curse gasp "Maul" shudder "Maul" spurt spurt spurt spurt.  Obi-Wan said "shit" when it was too soon and "fuck" when it was perfect.  Today was "shit."

        Maul carefully licked Obi-Wan's sensitive skin clean and tucked everything away again.  He closed his eyes and willed away his erection, then stood and kissed Obi-Wan.  "Go."

        "Go?"

        "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

        "Yes, but-"

        "So go."  Kiss.

        "But-"

        The door opened.

        "Maul."

        "I do not allow whiny Jedi in my apartment."

        "Maul-"

        "Move your ass, Kenobi."

        "See you tonight?"

        He shrugged.

        Obi-Wan sighed but smiled.  "I'll come by later."

        "I can't stop you.  Believe me, I've tried."

        But Obi-Wan didn't come by later.  He didn't see Obi-Wan at all the rest of the day or that night.  Not that he'd stayed up waiting or anything; he just wasn't tired, and there was this thing on TV that he sort of wanted to see, so he happened to be up sort of late - - or extremely early - - and he noticed that Obi-Wan didn't come home.

        Which meant two things:

        Obi-Wan was off kidnapped/dead/dying somewhere.

        Obi-Wan was off fucking somebody else.

        He wasn't sure which he'd prefer.

        He thought about that, considering it from all angles, as he honed his rage with care and fondness.  Even My Apprentice approved.  By the time this was over, there would be a body count of at least two: the kidnapper/murderer/sex kitten and Obi-Wan.

        Really, this entire situation was unnecessary.  If Obi-Wan wanted sex, Maul was a total sex machine.  And if Obi-Wan was going to die, why not die at the hands of the Sith?  Maul was an all-purpose multi-function kind of guy.  Neighbor, tormentor, fuck buddy, and enemy all in one with some angst on the side.

        Not his angst.  He didn't do angst.  But Obi-Wan could, if necessary.  That whole tormented soul thing was oh so luscious to Maul's senses.  Not that Obi-Wan really did that anymore.  Obi-Wan was too grounded, too mature, too Jedi.  Obi-Wan was all light side: strong, compassionate, mature, brilliant, thoughtful, ethical, principled, focused, devoted, had he said strong already?  Nothing broke a real Jedi.  Nothing could ever break Obi-Wan.

        Still, Obi-Wan could be dead.  In which case Maul would have to kill Qui-Gon, too, for not taking care of one's padawan properly.  Too busy checking out the boy's ass to save his butt, Quiggy?

        He didn't feel like eating chocolate anymore.  He got some pizza and fed it to the new civilization living under the sink.

        Well, if Obi-Wan was dead, or out fucking somebody else, those bitchy hamsters were going to die, and then they'd smell, and Sidious would get bitchy about that, so he'd have to go over there and make sure they were at least not entirely dead yet.  So he went over and broke into Obi-Wan's apartment and found Cuddles and Fluffi-Wan just fine and dandy.  Okay.  He went back to his place.  Then he went back to Obi-Wan's apartment to steal Obi-Wan's second Trainspotting soundtrack, the green one with the gorgeous guy on the front.

        Obi-Wan walked in.  Well, it was Obi-Wan's apartment, so Obi-Wan probably did have the right to be there, technically.  Obi-Wan looked tired.  Exhausted.  Obi-Wan was in full Jedi dress, cloak and everything, the hood pushed back, a singed tear running six inches down one side.

        Not dead.  Or dying.  Probably not off getting laid, either.  Probably off on a mission, doing some Jedi grunt work, fighting somebody from the looks of it, ready to drop, in need of sleep and comfort.

        Maul took the CD and left.

        He closed his apartment door with a bitter scowl.  It wasn't his job to comfort the Jedi.  Sith didn't do comforting.  Obi-Wan was good for fucking.  That didn't mean that he had to...soothe Obi-Wan.  Obi-Wan probably didn't even want him to, or expect him to.

        Because he was Sith.  Because he was Darth Maul.  Because Obi-Wan knew better than to think of them as anything more than casual sex partners.

        Which was as it should be.

        He didn't need some padawan getting weird ideas about how they were lovers or boyfriends or kindred spirits or any of the Jedi shit.  He just liked good sex, and Obi-Wan was good at sex.  Obi-Wan was really good at sex.

        Singed tear running six inches down one side.

        That was bad.  That meant that someone had gotten close to Obi-Wan, that someone had gotten the opportunity to get that close, for that length of time, long enough to slice Obi-Wan's cloak.  Damn it, didn't Obi-Wan know better than that?  Weren't these Jedi training for combat?  He knew that Obi-Wan was good at hand-to-hand; Obi-Wan had some nice acrobatic moves, speed, determination - - Obi-Wan was an excellent fighter.  Not good enough to defeat him, of course, but quite good.  Obi-Wan never should have let anyone close enough for that cut.  Had Obi-Wan been distracted?  And where had Jinn been?  Some master.  Or had their enemy been too much for them?  Had they been sent into a situation that they couldn't handle?  No, they were Jedi, and Jedi were supposed to be able to handle anything.  Especially Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.  They were developing quite a reputation.  A well-deserved one, it would seem.  Maul was perversely proud.

        He was feeling more pissed than anything else, though, just now.  He left his apartment and pounded his fist against Obi-Wan's door.

        Pause.  Maul growled in frustration, waiting.

        The door opened to reveal Obi-Wan, who was tugging down a T-shirt.  "Maul."

        "You're expecting someone else?"

        "I wasn't sure it'd be you."

        "How'd it go?" he asked, pushing past Obi-Wan into the apartment.

        Obi-Wan closed the door and frowned.

        "Your little mission.  Whatever it was that sliced your pretty robes."

        "It went well."

        "Did you get hurt?  Or doesn't it matter since you can do that little Jedi healing trick?"

        "Qui-Gon's working on trying to keep me from healing myself, so that I learn to live with pain and learn my own limitations.  It has its uses, such as enjoying the slight muscle stiffness of a morning after."

        "Morning after battle or morning after me?"

        Obi-Wan smiled slightly.

        "What really happened?  Something got close enough that it could have hurt you.  You know better."

        "It was nothing.  Qui-Gon's already chewed me out over it."

        "What was it?"

        "A blade."

        "How close did it get?"

        "Close enough."

        "You're hurt."

        "I'm fine."

        "You're hurt."  He pulled up Obi-Wan's shirt with two hands.  Stopped still.  Stared.

        Obi-Wan tugged at his grip, stepped back, pulled the shirt down again.

        "You're hurt," he said, and he knew that he sounded shocked but he couldn't help it.  Obi-Wan was good and strong and right, Obi-Wan's midichlorian count fell only below his and Yoda's, Obi-Wan couldn't get hurt.  Obi-Wan was hurt, really and truly hurt, the proof had been right before his eyes.

        "It's not bad."

        "In what sense?" was his angry reply.

        "Maul-"

        "Who did it?"

        "I can't tell you."

        Because he was a Sith and Obi-Wan was a Jedi and the Jedi couldn't offer up their plans to the Sith, no matter how public those plans might become.  "Heal yourself."

        "No.  Qui-Gon-"

        "He leaves you out there to get hurt, he doesn't take care of you, and then when you get hurt he wants you to suffer through it for some noble high-minded Jedi shit cause."

        "He shouldn't have to take care of me anymore.  I shouldn't require it.  By now we're supposed to be partners of a sort."

        "If you were my partner you'd never get hurt.  I wouldn't allow it."

        "I know."

        Those two simple words.  That easy, solemn acceptance.  Obi-Wan didn't doubt him.

        And what he'd said, it could have meant...it could have meant not just in battle, but in life, if they were life partners, if Obi-Wan were his part-

        He turned away sharply, walked away, turned back again but wouldn't look at Obi-Wan, couldn't look, left the apartment.

        Obi-Wan was hurt.

        Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

        Maul should be happy.  Pleased.  Thrilled.  Rejoicing.  Gloating.

        Instead, he was angry.  And he rejoiced in his anger.  Anger at whoever had wielded the blade that sliced through fabric and skin.  Anger at Jinn, for not protecting Obi-Wan.  Anger at Obi-Wan, for getting hurt.  Anger at himself, for giving a rat's ass whether Obi-Wan got hurt or not.

        He reveled in his anger, fed on it, let it feed on itself.  Thick, black rage filled his thoughts, filled his apartment.