RP TRANSCRIPT - Dark!ObiMaul w/ Leon
3/9/16 -
Coruscant, underworld.

Bathed in perpetual twilight, the dim alleys of the lower streets were teeming with bottom feeders of every flavor. Maul gave them not even a fraction of a glance as he made his way through, forcing them aside with his mind should they come too close.
He had been instructed by his master to locate an rendezvous with a dark Jedi, an outcast of sorts. Maul wondered what exactly this Jedi did to be outcasted, or if the gesture was voluntary. No matter, there was a job to be done and this Obi-Wan Kenobi could supposedly help it along.
As loathe as Maul was to accept help, he realized after the last disaster of a mission where he'd allowed himself to be caught off guard by a non-force sensitive human warranted an escort until he could prove his skill. Pushing aside the bitter thoughts, the Zabrak chose a nearby street corner to await his companion. He hoped the rogue Jedi would prove to be interesting.

The dimming neon lights of the Coruscant underground flickered above him as Obi-Wan Kenobi made his way through the busy streets, hood drawn over his face to cast a shadow of anonymity over his eyes. He'd managed to avoid much of a reputation so far - his bounty profile had barely managed to amass a handful of low-res holophotos of him - but he would rather be safe than sorry, and this upcoming meeting would require precision above all else.
/Corner of thirty-fifth and ninth/, he recited in his head, recalling his instructions from the holoconference the week prior. He was looking for a Zabrak, red-skinned and heavily tattooed, but uncommonly young in the face - and with the brightest yellow eyes he'd come across on his travels. /Sith eyes/.
Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, a trickle of energy undetectable to anyone not as keenly trained as he - and felt his target come into focus a block down the way. He approached the stranger, hand resting discreetly on the vibroblade sheathed against his hip. He came to stand next to the Zabrak and, cracking a wry smirk, said, "Fancy meeting you here," without meeting his eye.

Maul had felt the other man reach out and search for him through the force, marveling at how peculiar he felt. It was strange how, despite the title, this Obi-Wan was still tinged with the light side. Resisting the urge to continue prodding, the Zabrak felt himself tense.
Suddenly, the rogue was beside him, making a quip. Narrowing his eyes, Maul let loose a low growl and pushed off of the wall. "You were told to meet me here, of course I would be right here."
He didn't get the joke, it seemed. Adjusting his belt, the Zabrak pushed off of the wall and began to walk further down the street, expecting Obi-Wan to follow him. "I'm told you have some important information regarding the recent attacks in the factory district. Where would you like to relocate to discuss them?"

Obi-Wan held back an eyeroll - while the Sith had no reputation for camaraderie, he hadn't expected the Zabrak to be quite so... dry. He was  creature was going to be a joy to work with, it seemed. Nevertheless, he ducked into line behind his humorless comrade, following him with the flow of traffic. "I have an apartment a block down - rented under a pseudonym, cash only." He said, just loud enough for Maul to hear. "Unless that's too unprofessional for you." He added - he was also in possession of a back room at the cantina on the north end of 32nd, but he wasn't looking forward to explaining another hour-long meeting with an attractive foreigner in a seedy Coruscanti bar. He feared he was starting to get a /reputation/, as it were.

Maul resumed walking, never once taking pause or hesitating. The human's offer didn't strike him as strange at all, he didn't have the place of mind to consider what sort of implications going home with a stranger meant.
With a slight nod, he finally paused and turned to face Obi-Wan. Maul noted how young he looked--at least, what he could see of his face seemed so.
"Take us there, then. Is there any procedure you have while inside?" He grunted, "Shoes off? No coats?"

Obi-Wan was, if he had to admit it, a little taken aback. While the Zabrak's sense of humor hadn't much surprised him, the sudden display of manners was surprising. "...Bare feet, if you don't mind," Obi-Wan said, tentatively, as he started towards his flat - he may not have been a Jedi anymore, but old habits die hard, and he still wasn't a fan of tracking the filth from the lowest floor of Coruscant through his home, however temporary his stay was.
The walk was short, and coming upon the door of a dilapidated apartment complex (boarded windowframes and all), he fished a keycard from his pocket. It was an incredibly outdated form of identification, but the fewer of his fingerprints he left in the Coruscanti databases, the more comfortable he was.
"I don't recall catching your name," He offered as they stepped inside and into the ground flolr turbolift.

Joining Obi-Wan on the lift, Maul allowed himself to observe the building as best he could, reaching out with his senses.
As far as he could tell, this place didn't harbor anything special. Bottom dwelling types, but with slightly more luck and capability to afford a permanent residence. These were mostly weak willed people, and any who did have force senses seemed dulled out.
Except for the beacon of it standing next to him, of course. When spoken to, the Zabrak recalled his senses, eyes snapping back to Obi-Wan briefly. "Is it important?"
Before there could be an answer, Maul decided he could allow this piece of information. "I am Maul."

"Maul," Obi-Wan parroted, trying the name for himself - he found it a little stereotypical, perhaps, that a Sith lord would have such an unmistakably aggressive name - but it was otherwise unremarkable, if not a little silly. "Charmed." He said as the lift *dinged* its arrival on the twelfth floor.
His flat was just outside the turbolift's exit, and with another swipe of his keykard, the light on the ID panel flashed green and the door unlocked. "Make yourself at home," he offered the phrase more out of habit than honesty, toeing off his boots in the doorway.

Maul carefully removed his boots and set them neatly to the side, walking in after Obi-Wan and scanning the layout with an unreadable expression.
"What do you do?" The Zabrak asked half heartedly, he stayed standing, rigid. Relaxation is a distraction, and useless to him here. "Your job. Are you a mercenary? Assassin?"
Maul admitted to himself he was slightly interested in what the rogue Jedi might say.  He was so young, no older than the Zabrak himself, surely he had to have some sort of niche carved out to be on his own like this.

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow at the Zabrak - not that he could see, of course - and remarked, "I presumed you already knew," he said, seating himself on the ragged couch in the adjacent den of the flat. He glanced around, and then back at Maul (who seemed determined to stand there and look uncomfortable). "Is it the apartment? Are you wondering how I afford such-" he ran a finger down the grimy wall, wrinkling his nose when it came away smudged with dirt- "opulent living?" He laughed.

Maul didn't react to the teasing, moving instead to inspect a few items around the room. "I meant, you seem fairly young." He clarified, not bothering to look at Obi-Wan while speaking.
"Do you have an employer or are you freelance? A place of residence would point to the former, but since you're so very full of free time, it warranted question."
That was probably the most he had spoken this entire time, surprisingly. "Do you have a mentor? Or are you alone now?"

"I've learned my lesson about answering to a /higher authority/," Obi-Wan said, failing to bite back the bitterness in his voice. He was positive Maul knew his background - at the very least that he had been crowned a Jedi Knight before he left the Order - and figured the Sith could fill in the rest for himself. "You've no need to worry about me ratting on you or your Master; I work for myself." He paused. "In freelance reconnaissance, if you must know. Nothing so... uncivilized as mercenary work." He answered as briefly as he felt he could to assuage the Zabrak's curiosity, and hoped he would drop the subject. He hadn't been contacted for his gift of small-talk, and revealing personal information to someone who clearly had no intentions of reciprocating was not how he had gotten this far in the underworld.

For a moment, Maul smiled the barest smile, tugging at the corner of his lips. But it was gone in seconds, finally, he walked and sat nearby the dark Jedi, meeting his gaze with his own fiery one.
"Hm." He played with the thought of admitting that he'd asked purely out of self interest, but decided against it. "So, the attacks. My master runs a few businesses, two of which were hit harder than the other targets."
Pausing, the Zabrak sat back and sighed. "Caution is necessary. Therefore, my master requires I work with you to figure out the identities of the assailants. Apparently you are knowledgeable about the district itself and who comes and goes."
Another pause. "You show promise, at least. If my master insists I work with someone who's strong enough in the force, then perhaps this job won't be a waste."

Obi-Wan thought he caught the ghost of a grin on Maul's lips - but it was gone too fast for him to tell for sure. "You certainly have a gift for optimism," he remarked, crossing his legs and leaning back into his seat.
He had suspected the attacks were casual acts of gang violence, at first - disruptions to the functionality of the industry-heavy Coruscanti underground in order to stir up and air of trouble or mask a raid. It wouldn't have been unusual. When he had gone to investigate the damage himself, however, he found all of the equipment had been left in-tact, and the remains of the complexes were unraided. He doubted there was much left of them now, a week later, but it had certainly piqued his interest at the time.
"I think your Master ought to watch his back," Obi-Wan began, "It looks like whoever set those bombs was looking to send a message, and if he has the stake in the area you claim, it was likely for him."

"He assumed as much." Maul conceded, nodding. "Were you able to determine what sort of weapons they used? I've only seen surveillance footage, but-"
His communication device suddenly began to light up. Tensing, Maul flicked it on. A tiny hologram of his master floated to life, rising from the device on his wrist.
"Ah, you're with our contact. Excellent, that saves me the time." Sidious said, although he didn't sound any more pleased than usual. In fact, he sounded irate. "There's been another attack, mere blocks from you. I'm willing to assume that someone is aware we're on their trail."
Nodding, Maul never took his eyes off of his master. His mental shields were slammed down and reinforced, as if he were afraid anything at all might be considered wrong to his master.
Just as Sidious began to speak, the lights in the entire block shut down. Maul didn't flinch, turning his bright yellow eyes to Obi-Wan briefly.

Just as Maul's master took a breath to begin what Obi-Wan expected was to be a lecture at Maul's expense, there was a resounding click and the quiet hum of electricity in the building flickered out- followed by the sound of a rolling blackout at least a district wide. Kenobi's eyes found Maul's (he didn't know Zabrak eyes could glow like that) and the ex-Jedi found himself on his feet in an instant. "We'd best be on our way, then," he said, throwing open the large window on the wall to his left, open to the alley behind the complex. Just below it was a dark niche; a mark where the duracrete walls had been cracked by age or force, and below that a sprawl of other abnormalities in the architecture - an escape route he had hardly planned when surveying the apartment, but one that he found use for often.
He leapt from nook to cranny, gloved fingers finding purchase along the edges of drainpipes and the tops of window ledges, until he was a safe two stories from the pavement and could leap down. He ducked around the corner, confident Maul would follow, and took to where the alley met the sidewalk to peel through the crowd.

Maul did follow, retrieving his boots and moving expertly down the side of the building. It was peculiar to see, this man trained to kill so efficiently was so quiet and fluid in his every step.
As soon as he hit the ground, Maul hurried after Obi-Wan, weaving through anyone in the way as he did. And there certainly was a crowd forming--outraged drunkards, street gang members, lonely thugs, addicts. All conjoined in a mass of confusion on the now almost pitch black streets, save for a few independent lights running on generators.
"Look," Maul had put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and slid up behind him, whispering. "Smoke, it was another attack. We should go that way." There was something in his voice, a sort of hunger, excitement.

Obi-Wan nearly jumped at the touch - how long had it been since someone had put hands on him so casually? He hadn't pegged Maul for the type to be physical - but he pushed the thoughts from his mind and focused on the billowing tower of black smoke rising into the night. "Good catch," he said, and they took off into the crowd.
The attack was two blocks south of Obi-Wan's apartment, a flash fire that had consumed a contracting factory and then abruptly gone out. It explained why he hadn't heard a bang like the last time - they were trying new tactics.
The area had already been cleared by the authorities, police droids lined up and down the block. Obi-Wan slipped into the shadows of a nearby alleyway with a good view, studying the scene as close as he could without being caught.

Surveying the scene, Maul narrowed his eyes and nodded at what seemed to be a small hatch at the base of the building.
Drawing out his saber staff, the Zabrak had rushed ahead and upwards, clambering his way up the side of the building and out of sight. In a flash, the two police droids nearest to the hatch had been bisected in one quick slash of the double blades.
Maul pressed himself to the wall and made sure that no others were nearby before motioning for Obi-Wan to join him.

Obi-Wan's breath hitched as Maul dove towards the complex and ignited his lightsaber (two blades?) - he had hoped to sneak in with a little less /pizzazz/, but patience certainly didn't seem to be the Sith's strongsuit. Nevertheless, he followed when he was beckoned, taking advantage of the gap in the police droid patrol circuit before they could take notice of their missing officers.
"Could you slow down a little?" Obi-Wan hissed as he drew near, crouching low to remain in the shadows. "They're going to realize two of their droids are missing and we really don't need the district on high alert!"

This time, Maul did smile, a bit of a wicked grin. "That's the plan." He hissed softly. Clipping his saber staff to his belt, the Zabrak crouched down and gripped the hatch, prying it open. It made a loud grating sound, evidently a neglected passage.
Nevertheless, it was likely their only option. Maul paused before the dark tunnel ahead, eyes adjusting quickly. He picked up a few pebbles and carefully tossed them into the passage, waiting for any responding sound, or alarm.
There were none to be heard. Peeling off his robe, Maul carefully lowered himself inside. He waited for Obi-Wan just beyond the dark threshold, eyes locked on the expanse beyond. "Abandoned maintenance, it seems." He deduced, quiet.

"Lovely," Obi-Wan muttered, leaving his cloak with Maul's and following the Sith into the depths. The hatch was filthy, coated with a thick layer of rust and grime, and it stank like melted plastisteel and ash. Exactly what he's expect from the district, but no more appealing for it.
"So what is your plan, besides antagonizing the Coruscanti authorities?" Obi-Wan asked, settling in behind Maul and waiting for the Zabrak to continue down the maintenance tunnel.

Maul continued once Obi-Wan had made his way inside, casting the rogue Jedi a side glance, his yellow eyes cutting through the dark. "It was to keep them outside a little longer."
Navigating through old debris, Maul growled when they came to what looked like a bulkhead. Reinforced, most likely. "Perfect." He snarled quietly, pacing while he ran through ideas. Perhaps with Obi-Wan's help, they could apply enough of the Force to the steel to at least weaken it.
"I suppose we'll have to do this manually." Maul huffed, running his fingertips over the steel bolts, testing for any loose ones to no avail. "There's no other option."
Steadying himself, the Zabrak laid his hands flat on one side of the door, leaving the other open for his companion. He began to focus, drawing strength from his adrenaline and anger, forcing it all forward to pressure the door. It began to yield, but not enough, creaking at the sudden push.

Obi-Wan supposed he'd done stranger things with the Force than break into an abandoned factory - and he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt in preparation, approaching the bulkhead in a mirror of Maul's stance. He could feel the dark power radiating off of the Zabrak; waves of anger and passion that still made something deep within Obi-Wan cringe. He shook off the feeling and focused on the steel beneath his hands, clearing his mind, feeling the swell and ebb of energy in his core, down through his fingertips-
The steel began to crack beneath his hands, shattering down previously unseen faults in the metal, splintering like a spiderweb.

Maul kept focusing on the metal beneath his hands, and it kept bending and shifting, groaning under pressure and slowly drifting apart. Once he considered it sufficient enough, Maul let go and then spun, twisting midair and using his momentum to kick the door hard.
It was beginning to give away, bending inwards drastically. The Zabrak backed up again, further, and then threw himself at the door once more, slamming his boot down on the stress point. Now the hinges had mostly broken, Maul was panting a bit, although it didn't seem to come from exhaustion. No, he was exhilarated at the prospect of what may lie ahead.
If all went well, a challenge. If not, well, at least there could be some answers. Maul scooted back again and ran for the door, snarling as he slammed into it with his shoulder this time, throwing the entirety of his body weight into it.
The metal screamed beneath him, finally crumpling and bending inwards enough to allow passage. Maul wasted no time, climbing up the now steep incline of the metal and peeking beyond. Looking back down at Obi-Wan, he nodded.
"It looks like we're at the basement levels, or storage. Depending on what's in the crates." He announced, hoisting himself inside and dropping to the floor.

Obi-Wan hauled himself up and over the destroyed bulkhead, trying to reign in how impressed he was with the display of strength Maul had given - he had judged the steel maybe half weak enough to break, and the Zabrak had destroyed it with hardly any effort. It was almost chilling - not that he planned on telling Maul that.
"I'd wager basement," he said, making his way to the singular door on the far side of the room - locked, when he tried it. Not fancying another round of Force-channeling (he was loathe to admit it had taken more energy than he'd had to spare; he was out of practice), he sighed, reaching for the sheath on the opposite hip to his vibroblade. He drew his lightsaber, washing the room in blue light before slicing through the rusted hinges. He sheathed it again quickly - he made an effort to use it as infrequently as possible, these days. It didn't quite feel like his, anymore.
A swift kick to the door had it falling into the hallway beyond, which opened up into a staircase - Obi-Wan suspected it lead to the first production floor of the factory. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Maul nodded in approval, moving forward without much hesitation. He doubted the assailants themselves would still be here--they would be fools to stay. Still, some part of him did hope that a few stuck around.
When a door somewhere along the stairwell swung open forcefully, Maul instinctually ducked away, grabbing Obi-Wan and pushing him into a small alcove before joining him. It was a little strange, having to press flat up against the other man to avoid whomever it was from seeing them.
The Zabrak purposefully avoided looking Obi-Wan in the eye, instead, he kept his eyes to the side and watched his peripheral. No movement, in fact, there were hardly anymore sounds at all. Despite the tension, Maul's breathing was steady. Even his hearts stayed at a normal pace, exercising complete control kept his mind clear.
No, not clear. Grudgingly, Maul noticed another part of his mind enjoying the physical proximity of another person who wasn't about to fry him with lightning. But he didn't give it enough thought, setting that aside to focus on the mission. Hushed voices began to converse above, but the conversation was impossible to hear.
Frowning, Maul finally looked at Obi-Wan, his puzzled expression asking wordlessly if his partner had any ideas.

Obi-Wan gasped as his back hit the wall- and then Maul hit his front. The Zabrak pressed him up against the wall and it took Obi-Wan a moment to realize why. There was talking up the stairs - a quiet but unmistakably rushed conversation.
They waited a moment - a /long/ moment; Obi-Wan could feel Maul's hot breath against his neck and it was making him markedly uncomfortable in ways that were /not/ helpful - before the ex-Jedi's hand found his lightsaber again. He held up his free hand, wedged uncomfortably against the wall, drawing Maul's attention by tapping his shoulder. He held up three fingers - implying /On three/, and indicated the hall with a tilt of his head.
/One/, he lowered his ring finger, /two/, his middle, /one/-

Maul stood still for a moment, confused until he noticed the barest glint of the rogue Jedi's lightsaber being drawn. A wave of strange heat coursed through his body, settling in his stomach and now his hearts did beat a little faster. As soon as Obi-Wan counted down, Maul slid away from him and drew his own saber staff out from his belt, making for the hall as instructed.
By the time they were noticed, the Sith had cut one down and kicked the other away, sending him sprawling. A third and fourth came running forward, mercenaries it looked like, brandishing blasters that they fired on their attackers.
Twirling the saberstaff, Maul deflected the blasts and managed to roll away from their line of sight. He didn't see the fifth gunman on the platform above, and by the time he did it was too late to deflect the shots. Snarling with frustration, Maul gripped his side where the bolts had torn into him.
The sniper managed to land a third shot to the Zabrak's shoulder, effectively making him drop the saberstaff when his arm went limp. Maul ran for, using the force to jump as high as he could. He clung to the railing with his good arm,  and swung himself so that he could hook his legs over the side of it.
Maul then threw himself into the platform with a defiant roar, charging the sniper. It wasn't much of a struggle, the man wasn't equipped to deal with close proximity combat. A few tense moments, and the man was sent flying over the railing, his body flopping uselessly below.

Obi-Wan lit his saber, charging out behind Maul. The Zabrak took down the first few and an onslaught of plasma blasts, but by the time Obi-Wan had slipped by him to take down the two mercenaries firing at them, he heard a sniper blast make contact with something and a resounding snarl of pain. He turned on his heel, watching as Maul took another blaster shot to the shoulder, dropping his staff before launching himself into the rafters.
Obi-Wan forced himself to look away from his injured compatriot to take on another two mercenaries, kicking one squarely in the helmet and running the other through with his saber.
He paused, breathing heavy, buzz of his lightsaber echoing in the high-ceilinged factory floor - but he didn't hear any footsteps and a brief sweep of the level with his Force sense answered the same.
He sheathed his lightsaber and turned, drawing Maul's saberstaff into his hand before following the Zabrak's path up onto the higher platform. "Maul?" he called out in a strained whisper, scanning the dim room. "Maul, where are you?"

Hearing his name, the Zabrak headed closer to the platform, anger radiating from him like molten rock, threatening to spill over. "I'm here." Maul grunted, although the hardly noticeable limp in his step implied that he might not be doing well for long.
He was determined, however, to see this mission through first. Going back to the railing of the platform, he looked down at the stairwell below and considered their options. How many more of these gunmen could their be ahead? And without use of one of his arms, the saberstaff would be all but useless to him.
"I don't sense anymore close to us." Maul noted, turning to face Obi-wan. "Should we go this way, then? I have a feeling there will be more down there." He was ignoring the state of his injuries deliberately, believing them to be a punishment for not properly keeping his guard up.

"Maul, you're bleeding," Obi-Wan's eye was drawn instantly to the gaping wound in Maul's side, charred around the edges and staining the fabric around it a deeper black. "Profusely." he added, looking up at the matching injury in the Zabrak's shoulder. "If the compound is overrun we're not going to learn anything here - we might as well cut our loses, learn what we can from the mercenaries we've already dealt with, and leave before anyone knows we were here." He said. "If we can find out where they've come from, we've learned all we came to, anyway. And we can get some bacta on those," he gestured to Maul's bleeding shoulder and side with the hand holding the Zabrak's sabrestaff, "before they get infected."

The level of anger radiating from him reached near critical levels. Tensing, Maul turned to face Obi-Wan, his usually calm eye awash with hostility. "I've had worse." He growled.
The ex-Jedi was right, though. To expend his energy now would be folly, they had located at least one answer. Mercenaries. To whom they answered would have to come next, by some means.
Allowing himself to breathe and just barely calm, Maul nodded slowly. "Fine, we will retreat. But we will search these bodies first, alright? Perhaps they were stupid enough to leave more information."

Obi-Wan could physically feel the anger radiating off of Maul through the force; hot waves of indignation and offense at his suggestion, and it made him recoil a little before it ebbed back.
"Of course," Obi-Wan replied, vaulting back over the railing to the ground floor, consulting first the mercenary who's skull he'd presumably shattered, judging by the pool of blood slowly leaking from his helmet.
The uniform itself was nondescript; light battle armor and compression undergarments not unlike clone trooper standard issue. Obi-Wan flipped the body, and yet still found nothing - and so moved to the helmet. Aside from the gore, there was nothing remarkable about /it/ either.
He turned to the other mercenary, reaching for the clasps on his shirt when a crease in his belt pocket caught Obi-Wan's eye. He unfastened the pouch to find a single sheet of flimsiplast, torn at the edges. It was of the thin, printing variety - nothing official, then. On it was scrawled only an address, and one Obi-Wan didn't recognize. He pocketed the slip.

Maul carefully jumped back down shortly after, picking through the bodies he had left carefully. There didn't seem to be much on them, no identification, no credit chips, nothing traceable. Even the symbols on their armor seemed foreign, surely they had to be part of something big and well known if they could afford to waste men and blow places apart.
Shaking his head, Maul stood and joined Obi-Wan again. "Nothing. They are smarter than I expected, leaving no trace. No matter, at least we know now that it is some organized group." He grumbled, clearly displeased.
It was mostly at himself, how dare he allow not one, not two, but -three- shots to his person? Three! His master would be very displeased with him indeed. Tensing at the thought, Maul started for the exit, quick in his step. It would be best to find somewhere discreet to go, when the power was re supplied, his master would be calling again. And he didn't particularly feel like standing in the middle of a failed mission when it happened.

Obi-Wan followed Maul back the way they had come, deciding to save the news about the address for later - he had a strong suspicion Maul would try to make up for his mistakes during this foray by jumping headlong into the next one, and judging by the way he was limping, it would only end in disaster.
"I have a medkit at the apartment," Obi-Wan offered as they descended the stairs to the basement, "here's to hoping you don't need any more than that." He neglected to comment on Maul's arm, which... had certainly looked better. He could see where the skin had blistered and peeled away completely, leaving a cauterized, bloody gash of open flesh and visible tendons. He tried not to dwell on what that meant for Maul's abdominal wound.

Maul didn't comment at first, giving the rogue Jedi a sidelong glance as they made their way outside of the building once more. To his surprise. The droids didn't seem all too concerned with their fallen allies at all, peculiar.
Ever paranoid that his master was, Maul considered that there may be more than just a crime syndicate working in this strange series of events. Keeping silent, the Zabrak didn't bother to retrieve his cloak once they were outside.
Only when they had reached the streets, and Maul was certain they weren't followed, did he speak. "My training required me to sustain injuries of all severities and survive them on my own." He said, blunt. As if it were normal. "These wounds are nothing compared to most of them.
For example, during one of my final trials, I had to fight my master with a festering, gigantic gash in my leg. And once when I was infiltrating a prison, I sustained severe injuries multiple times during the fights they set up. One of my opponents tore my back wide open." Maul snorted, waving the air of stubborn resilience he felt coming from Obi-Wan away with his good hand.
"These are nothing I haven't dealt with before. You should have resumed without me, if I died, it would have been deserved." He genuinely didn't seem to realize just how cold and warped his words were, stating them as if they were fact.

As far as personal conversations went, Obi-Wan would have ranked that one in his top ten. He waa fairly certain the prison Maul spoke of was Cog Hive 7- he'd kept up with the betting as best he could in its initial days of running- and he repressed a shudder. He'd seen what happened to those inmates and he found himself awed that Maul had entered and escaped with his life, nevermind all his limbs.
The idea that he deserved death for little mistakes like that, though - costly as they were - chilled Obi-Wan. Had his master taught him that?  Obi-Wan had been told, as an initiate and a padawan, that the Sith were cruel, but in his later years had chalked it up to petty rumor. Perhaps the Jedi weren't so wrong, in that respect.
"You miscalculated. It happens," Obi-Wan assured him as they reached the apartment, walking around back to the alley. The power was still out, and he wasn't about to climb twelve stories of stairs. This would be easier- he hoped. "If every minor mistake in battle cost a life, I would have been dead a dozen times over by now." He explained. "And I'm still a worthy opponent. Now," he looked back up at the scaling course to his apartment. "Climb on my back."

"Miscalculations are not allowed." Maul barked in response, his tone fairly hostile, although it was hard to place where the anger was directed. "If I miscalculate, I fail, and then I die. As it should be."
The Zabrak didn't seem keen on commenting any further, peering up at the apartment complex warily. He was busily trying to figure out how exactly he would make it inside with his weakened arm, too entrenched in his own thoughts to hear Obi-wan at first.
Maul opened his mouth to protest, seething at the idea of help, but furious at allowing himself to look -weak-. Regardless, the rogue Jedi was right, this would be an efficient method. Swallowing his anger, Maul did as he was told and reminded himself that he had a job to do, self punishments would best come when it was finished.

Obi-Wan wondered, briefly, as he crouched to let Maul drape himself across his back, if getting involved with the Sith was a bad idea. He and Maul certainly made a functional pair - the Zabrak was a skilled strategist, if not a little rash, and his control over the Force was equal to, if not better than, Obi-Wan's own. But on a personal level - he had never met a man so determined to devalue his own life.
He scaled the building with relative ease- slower than he would have normally, to avoid jostling his passenger too severely, and propped his den window open with the Force to allow them both in. He let Maul dismount, before saying, "Take a seat, I'll be right back," and starting towards the refresher on the other side of the flat. "...and don't do anything to make those worse."

Maul sat down carefully, but Obi-Wan's comment made him flinch and he narrowed his eyes. "I am not suicidal." He sneered, "I do not wish to die any more than you do. I simply understand that mistakes are not allowed."
The entire day had gone very wrong very fast, although Maul did feel a budding respect for Obi-Wan. He was strong, quick on his feet and reasonable enough.
Were he in good enough humor, the Zabrak might've toyed with the idea of taking him as an apprentice one day. But he had no plans to kill his master anytime soon, and no wish to either. There was far too much to learn before he would ever be ready.
At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Slowly, the anger rippling through Maul began to fade away as he sat deep in thought. They gave way to something else, sadness, but that was quickly disposed of as well. A firm barrier went up and he was back to his stoic demeanor by the time Obi-Wan returned.

Obi-Wan returned with a medpack:
a thick briefcase stocked with sutures, bacta gel, and bandages, and laid it on the end table beside the sofa. "Sit down," he said as he slid the elastic he'd grabbed from the refresher off his wrist to tie back his hair, his hands, wet from washing, leaving damp streaks in the gold. He'd deliberately focused away from Maul while he was in the other room, trying to give the clearly distressed Zabrak the privacy to collect himself - and yet he still felt the waves of discomfort, frustration, and something deeper and - sadder, really, pouring from him in waves. For the second time that night he wondered what Maul's master was like, to leave his apprentice in such constant anguish with no desire to intervene.

Maul grimaced at the medical supplies, but understood the necessity. He seated himself across from Obi-Wan, deciding only now to inspect his own wounds.
Unfastening the belt around his waist, Maul carefully removed his shirt and set it aside before glancing at his body. The injury to his side was fairly bad, the bolt had seared deep into his skin, exposing muscle and bone from his ribcage below.
He didn't seem very surprised, now glancing at his shoulder. The damage was equally as severe, nerve damage had occurred, but at least even without treatment he was regaining control of his arm. The third bolt had hit him in the thigh, and he didn't feel like undressing completely in front of Obi-Wan, who was effectively a stranger.
"I suppose I can see why you were a little concerned." Maul huffed. "They don't feel as bad as they look." He offered, the closest thing to an apology the ex-Jedi was likely to get.

Obi-Wan swallowed a wave of nausea as the smell of burnt flesh hit him full in the face, instead reaching for and uncapping the bottle of rubbing alcohol in the medkit. The smell was equally strong, but a good measure less unpleasant.
"That would likely be the adrenaline," he said regarding Maul's pain - he'd had a few bone-deep blaster wounds as well, and they did eventually start to feel as bad as they looked. He supposed he should have been grateful Maul wasn't feeling them yet, or cleaning would be tortuous.
"This will hurt," he said bluntly, dampening a washcloth with a liberal amount of alcohol and pressing it to the hole in Maul's shoulder.

Maul did not flinch. He didn't make a sound, he didn't hold his breath. The Sith just sat rigid and stared straight ahead as Obi-Wan worked, giving absolutely no indication to what he was feeling nor thinking. Sidious was not here, Maul was well aware that he wouldn't be punished for cursing or snarling or protesting, but his pride wouldn't allow him that release.
Instead, he channeled the blinding pain. When it began to reach a fever pitch, Maul grit his teeth and shut his eyes. He was trembling, and he felt his stomach lurch suddenly. When Obi-Wan hit a particularly raw spot, he heaved, resisting the urge to shove the other man's hand away. Or break it.
Maul was quick to collect himself, exhaling and trying to resume channeling the pain into rage, fuel for his future missions, power. But his body was betraying him, the Zabrak's hands were trembling, he was sweating from the tension and pain. His stomach was doing flip flops and cramping and sending waves of nausea through his body, but he didn't speak up in protest once.

Obi-Wan finished cleaning Maul's shoulder as fast as he could in good conscience, and when he moved to tend to Maul's side, made the wise decision not to crouch directly in front of him this time. He was honestly impressed at how much the Zabrak was holding back, despite the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead or the distinct greenish tinge his skin had taken beneath his tattoos.
"Let me know if you need a break," he offered tentatively, knowing full well Maul would take offense. "I don't want you vomiting on my carpet." He joked, cracking a weak smile before re-soaking the washcloth and pressing it against the Maul's ribcage.

This time, Maul did snarl and shudder, the pain was maddening. Absolutely maddening, as he'd never had a wound like this before, it was difficult to gauge what sort of pain he would face. As it turns out, burning one's bone and chest muscle was not a pleasant feeling at all.
"I'm not going to." He managed to gasp in response to the half-hearted joke, digging his claws into his own legs and focusing again.
The second wound was handled much better than the first, at least. Despite the new location, Maul had at least a prior warning as to how much it would burn and prepared himself.

Obi-Wan finished with Maul's side - thankfully he seemed to be coping a little better - but his eyes fell to the dark spot of blood and ash on Maul's thigh. "Are you going to let me clean that?" Obi-Wan gestured to it, "or are you keen to have another one of those 'festering gashes' you were talking about?"

Sighing, the Zabrak rubbed his face for a moment. He suddenly looked very tired. Maul thought about saying he could do it himself, but he reconsidered once he realized he could've done the others as well. He had allowed the rogue Jedi to help him.
Cornered, Maul bit his tongue and hesitantly undid the belt on his pants. Was he self conscious? Peculiar, coming from a man who's appearance was meant to draw attention. There was no need for this sudden embarrassment, Obi-Wan was just aiding him. There wouldn't need to be aid if he had been more attentive. Glaring at nothing in particular, Maul slid his pants down carefully, in case the fabric had melded to his flesh.
To his surprise, it hadn't very badly. A few small spots of it, but otherwise the rest was just burnt skin.

Obi-Wan could tell that Maul was - embarrassed? - to be so revealed, and felt a pang of something almost like pity. He had done this on the field too many times to count, as the caretaker or the recipient, with fellow Initiates or Learners or even with his own master, once or twice, and the intimacy of it felt commonplace and unremarkable to him - but he found himself wondering if /anyone/ had ever done this for Maul. He'd certainly had injuries worthy of it. Had he dressed all his injuries himself? Had he dressed them at all?
Pressing the washcloth, damp with the remainder of the alcohol, to Maul's thigh, Obi-Wan muttered, "Almost done," under his breath before he realized he had. Force of habit, he supposed, to comfort someone in pain- whether or not Maul would take kindly to it.

Maul didn't seem to notice the comment, or if he did, it didn't make him very angry. He shivered, but he'd dealt with leg injuries plenty of times, and compared to the first two this one was much more tolerable.
He also found himself marveling at how gentle Obi-wan's methods were. Maul himself usually cleaned his wounds pretty brutally, as a secondary price to pay for his failure. The medical droids that had tended to him before also took no care when treating him--Sidious had removed their ability to regulate pain so that his apprentice might learn how to manage it better.
Compared to them, this rogue Jedi was something wildly different. Maul caught himself staring down at Obi-Wan, blinking away the thoughts and looking off to the side instead. And then he muttered a quiet, almost inaudible "thank you".

Obi-Wan paused, as he pulled the rag away, his concentration broken by the muttered words from his partner. He hadn't been expecting that - and he bit down on the inside of his lip to fight back a smile.
He reached back into the medkit for an aluminum tube - off-brand bacta ointment - and a roll of gauze, uncapping the tube and starting, this time, with Maul's thigh. "This is the easy part; you can relax, now," he said, applying the ointment liberally to his fingers and then to the wound. It would still sting, but nothing compared to the chemical burn of the isopropyl.
Now that he wasn't so focused, he could take in Maul better - the Zabrak was stripped down to his underwear, and Obi-Wan found the confirmation that the tattoos went all the way down to be strangely gratifying. They were beautiful; bold and intricate against the deep red of his skin, interrupted only by a few pinkish lines of scarring - one of note along his ribs, others scattered across his frame. Obi-Wan found himself mourning the times he wasn't there with a medpack for each of those untreated scars, as ridiculous as the notion was.

Maul was still incredibly tense as his companion applied the salve, he was not used to this sort of treatment at all. In fact, he was fairly confused as to why Obi-Wan hadn't started insulting him yet. It was his fault they had to fall back so soon, after all.
His thoughts came to an abrupt stop when the ex Jedi's fingers dipped into his inner thigh to cover the last of the wound. An involuntary growl escaped him, low and deep in his throat, but it wasn't angry this time.
Maul was grateful for his extensive tattoos, because were he a human, by now he would be red head to toe. Obi-Wan's careful glances over his form didn't go unnoticed, and he wondered what the other man might be thinking. Was he disdainful? Was he afraid? Disgusted? Moreover, Maul wondered why he cared at all.

Obi-Wan lifted his hand instantly, a little surprised at Maul's reaction. "Are you alright?" He asked - the bacta shouldn't have hurt as badly as the alcohol, and while Maul didn't look quite as pained, the low growl sounded... distressed, at the very least. Was his application technique off, or had he crossed some sort of cultural boundary? Was Maul finally reaching his impossible pain threshold?

Shaking his head, Maul kept his gaze averted and dared to shift a little. "No. It's alright. It wasn't your..." He trailed off, suddenly feeling a tad bit ashamed of himself. Even if it had been an involuntary response, Maul himself had helped it happen, watching and even enjoying this new thing. And the man in front of him.
"It...happens. Despite my training, instinctual responses." Maul said, somewhat clumsily. It was almost funny, only hours before he had been cold and quiet. Then again, how does one tell another that seeing them on their knees was appealing without sounding threatening?
No, no. Keeping any further information to himself, Maul met Obi-Wan's gaze again and nodded at him to proceed.

Maul suddenly seemed very keen to avoid Obi-Wan's eyes, and if he had to hazard a guess, the rogue Jedi thought if Maul was a little paler there would be a distinct blush across his face. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan continued, running careful lines of his bacta-slick fingers down the patch of seared flesh on Maul's thigh, before tentatively moving to his ribs.

Maul allowed himself to relax slightly after his companion had moved on, thankful that he had been too confused by his own thoughts and too distracted for his body to give away what exactly what going on. Not that he was even quite sure, himself.
The wound on his side did sting, especially when touched, but Maul didn't mind. It was a mix of pain and the odd sensation of Obi-wan's fingers on his muscle and bone. "Were you a healer before?"
The question was asked carefully, as if the Zabrak was more wary of Obi-Wan's possible response.

Obi-Wan shook his head, giving a sort of breathless chuckle. "No, I was never very good at healing - this is just front-line first aid; I couldn't heal through the Force if you paid me." /Especially not now/, he neglected to add, brushing the last of the ointment on his fingers onto Maul's ribs.
Last was his shoulder, before he got to bandaging, and Obi-Wan laid the back of his hand against the side of Maul's neck as he shifted positions for access. "Just- tilt your head for me, will you?" he asked, gently, bracing his grip on the Zabrak with a hand under his arm.

Maul complied, resisting the sudden urge to swat Obi-wan's hand away. He'd never been very comfortable at all with anyone too close to his neck, but this could easily be rectified by doing what was asked of him.
Obi-Wan might've noticed it long before he did. Maul's chest was vibrating ever so slightly with a soft purr, another involuntary reaction of the Zabrak that usually indicated pleasure or at the very least, contentedness. It was very hard to hear, but it could be felt, rumbling deep in his chest.
Maul was so far in his thoughts at the moment that he had no idea.

Obi-Wan went back to his work on Maul's shoulder, moving carefully around the swollen tendons and the visible bone, sealing the air from the wound with the thick ointment. He wiped the remaining gunk on his pants - if it stained, he could deal with it later - and took hold of Maul's arm, pulling it up so he could start to wind the gauze in his hand around the Zabrak's shoulder.
It was only when he was finished with his shoulder and had moved back down to his ribs that he felt a subtle vibration against his hands; a rumbling like a running engine, revving in Maul's chest. The noise wasn't predatory or defensive - if anything, it was ... content.
"Maul," he began, pulling closer so his hands could meet behind the Sith to pull the gauze back around front, "are you- are you /purring/? Like a cat?" He couldn't hide the smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and hoped Maul was calm enough not to lash out at him for asking - because in all honesty it /was/ rather endearing.

Maul did seem perfectly content to sit in silence while Obi-Wan worked, he still had no idea that he was purring. Only when his companion asked did he blink, and then frown. The vibrations slowly dimmed down and went back to nothing.
"What? I...." Maul paused, his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't know. I didn't know I could do that." He confessed, puzzled.

The confounded look on Maul's face tore a laugh from Obi-Wan, and a genuine smile to match. "It's a bit of an odd time for self-discovery," he remarked, wrapping his arms around the Zabrak again to finish the dressing, "but it's certainly interesting."
Now... now there was Maul's thigh, and then they could be finished, and any discomfort amassed in the last twenty minutes could be disposed of. Unfortunately, the would was up in the meat of his thigh, dangerously close to his hipbone, and there was no good way to bandage it properly.
"This might be a little odd, but could you put your foot on my shoulder?" Obi-Wan asked, kneeling down further to assist the process.

Maul was surprised by Obi-wan's laugh, it sounded incredibly warm despite who it belonged to. His own laugh was nearly unheard of, while Sidious' laugh usually indicated danger. Maul decided he liked the rogue Jedi's laugh.
He felt himself heat up with another invisible blush at the request, but shifted and did as he was asked. There was no point in arguing anymore, and Maul lacked the energy to do it properly.
He sincerely hoped his master didn't somehow find out about this, not that he was sure if it would warrant punishment or not. Grimacing, Maul realized it more than likely would, along with another lesson about self reliance.
"If you would like, I can do this one myself." The Zabrak finally offered, looking down at Obi-Wan.

"I think it's a little late for that," Obi-Wan said, reaching forward to press the strip of gauze high on the inside of Maul's thigh, "I'm almost done."
He had to admit it was a little odd, his hands pressed to the thighs of a stranger sitting spread-eagled on his couch, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if the blood on his hands contributed or detracted from the uncomfortable implications.
To distract himself from - /this/ - he looked back at the dark swirling patterns under his hands, studying their path down Maul's thigh and up past his hips and across his chest. He wanted to ask where Maul had gotten them - he'd seen Zabraks with tattoos like this before, but none so intricate and bold - but caught himself before he asked. Maul seemed about as keen to talk about his past as Obi-Wan did his, and he decided to allow the man at least his personal privacy while he was, again. spread-eagle and bleeding on Obi-Wan's couch.

Maul was still quiet. At first, he'd watched Obi-Wan begin to wrap his leg, but once he felt his mind wandering a bit he sent his attention elsewhere. What in the world was his problem today? It had to be from the blood loss, yes. That had to be it.
Were he in his right mind, he wouldn't be dealing with this strange reaction to the ex Jedi's treatment of him. His hands were so gentle, it was almost maddening.
When Obi-Wan's hands got closer to his hip, Maul had to physically stop himself from jolting. A sensitive spot for him, it seemed.

Obi-Wan watched Maul shift under his hands and, presuming he was in pain, ran his thumb gently over the ridge of the Zabrak's hip in an absentminded gesture of comfort. He tried not to notice the streak of red it left over the unmarred black of his tattoo, and especially tried no to notice the buzz of warmth in his belly at the sight. /Not now/, he thought, grimacing, shifting the weight of his crouch to close his legs. This was a /professional/ relationship, he reminded himself, and this would be quite the worst possible time to overstep those boundaries.

When Obi-Wan ran a finger over his hip, Maul shivered rather noticeably, stifling a soft groan as it rose in his throat. The touch had sent his nerves on overload, and he found himself craving more contact.
"Obi-Wan..." Maul started, unsure of what exactly he should say. The Zabrak wasn't able to hold back much this time, his body quickly betraying exactly how he was feeling at the close contact. Feeling Obi-Wan's breath on his inner thigh didn't help.
"Do...do that again." Maul grunted, nodding at his hip. He was fascinated by the response his body gave, no doubt. But he refused to acknowledge that he just liked how it felt.

Obi-Wan looked up when he heard his name, feeling the Zabrak shiver under his hands. He did as he was asked, this time running the flat of his palm against Maul's hip as he tucked the edge of the bandage in. For someone else he might have pulled away, then, leaving his handiwork to set and the uncomfortable intimacy to dissipate - but he was fascinated, looking up at Maul's stony face and the rise and fall of his chest, faster than it had been before. He bit down on his lip to will the color from his face, the blush he knew was threatening to creep up his collar.

Maul met the ex Jedi's gaze momentarily, he seemed equally as curious, if not a bit ashamed of himself. When Obi-Wan complied, the Zabrak's hips rolled into the touch and he growled again, looking away from his companion.
A few more tense moments passed as Maul allowed himself to settle down as much as he could--which wasn't much at all. He was hot to the touch, flushed up and very obviously aroused by all of this.
Clearing his throat, Maul nodded slowly. He refused to look at Obi-Wan now, carefully sliding his leg off of the other man's shoulder and curling up where he sat to try and hide himself and his arousal. "Interesting. Your hands, I mean." He muttered. "I've never felt that before."

Obi-Wan's breath hitched in his throat as Maul pushed up into his hand, almost involuntarily, and he caught a glimpse - more than a glimpse, really, it was obvious - of the rising tent in the Zabrak's shorts. There was no holding back that blush, now, and the subtle heat he'd felt rising in him had suddenly traveled south.
"You've never-" he swallowed, "never done anything about - that-" he gestured awkwardly- "-before?" he asked, incredulously. Maul was young, sure, but no younger than himself, and while the Jedi had their rules about intimacy, he had a hard time imagining the Sith to be the same.

Groaning, Maul rubbed his face and was silent. "I have." He muttered, frowning and shifting again. It was hard to get comfortable like this, it always was. "But it's usually quick and cold."
Resting his hands in his lap, the Zabrak absentmindedly ran his claws along the patterns on one of his arms. "I am not used to physical contact that isn't necessity or punishment. You....The way you were touching me is vastly different to what I'm used to." He explained, offering a half-hearted shrug to Obi-Wan.
"And, I have to admit. Seeing you on your knees is not so bad." Maul snorted, daring to look at him again.

Obi-Wan laughed, a breathless, surprised chuckle as he stood to sit beside Maul - maybe closer than they needed to be, if he was going to be honest. He laid a hand, very carefully, on Maul's knee, running it down the length of his calf. "Would you like me to keep going?" He asked, and he was surprised by the huskiness of his own voice. He met Maul's gaze, and found an honesty he hadn't seen at all that night, open and unguarded. It was enough to make him nervous - but not enough to keep the wry grin off his face.

Maul shivered again when Obi-wan touched him, and something flashed in his eyes. Hunger, as it were, for the other man. But he bit back the need to rush in and dominate the ex Jedi. Or be dominated by him. He'd never allowed anyone to lay claim to him before, it made him feel far too vulnerable.
Still, the idea of this Obi-Wan taking all control was appealing as well, in some regards.
Nodding a little in response, Maul allowed himself to relax into the touch. "If you would like to, yes."

Obi-Wan felt Maul settle, the muscles in his leg relax against his touch, and he felt it was permission enough to move his hand to Maul's jaw. He grazed his thumb against the Zabrak's cheekbone as he leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss. His lips were soft, his breath hot against Obi Wan's face, and he was close enough to smell the sharp scent of sweat and ozone and something else that was just /Maul/ over the blood and alcohol. It was intoxicating, and he had to hold back moaning into the kiss - it had been too long.

Maul was taken by surprise with the kiss, but found himself purring once more as it progressed. Finally allowing himself to reciprocate properly, the Sith returned Obi-Wan's kiss, with a little more passion.
He even dared to bite the ex Jedi's lower lip, not enough to hurt too badly.  Maul reached out and placed his hands on his companion's sides, gently urging him to come closer.
The purring in his chest only strengthened at the intimate touches, Maul did nothing to stop it this time. Not that he could help it at this point, very much enjoying Obi-wan's gentle caresses. They were such a stark contrast in appearance, where Maul had bright, livid fire eyes, Obi-Wan had calm and cool blue.
Where Maul was a striking black and red, Obi-Wan was a soft pale tone. Even his hair was light, and when his flesh rested against the Zabrak's, it almost seemed to glow faintly because of the contrast. Maul liked that very much, he decided.

Obi-Wan hissed at the bite to his lip - not in protest, but at the sharp jolt of heat that lit up his nerves at the barely-rough treatment. His hand moved from Maul's jaw as they kissed, trailing lightly down his neck to his chest, his thumb grazing the Zabrak's nipple before giving it a sharp twist - enough to feel, not enough to hurt. He could feel Maul's warm hands against his sides through his tunic, tense against his ribcage, and Obi-Wan returned the gesture with his free hand against Maul's hip, gently kneading at the flesh there.
He could feel Maul relaxing into his hands, his mouth, and his presence in the Force glowed with it - anger dissipating to a subtle ebb, replaced with a starved, desperate hunger; and Obi-Wan planned to deliver.

A soft, predatory growl escaped Maul when he was pinched. Ducking a bit, the Zabrak nudged Obi-Wan's head aside to get at his neck, leaving a small trail of bites with a few bruising marks down its length.
Maul inhaled sharply when the ex Jedi's fingers digging into his hips, and his body rolled into it again, wanting. He was unabashedly turned on by all of this, trailing the tip of his tongue over the bites on Obi-wan's neck slowly.

Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath as Maul attacked his neck, and he leaned his had back to allow the Zabrak better access. They were a tangled mess of limbs at this point, all hands on deck, legs twined around each other in haphazard drapery. "I have a bed," Obi-Wan offered, "if you're interested." It wasn't that he found the idea of fucking on the couch unappealing - in fact, the image of Maul pinned against it as Obi-Wan went down on him had him about ready to scream - but Maul's bandages were slowly soaking through with bacta and blood and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb them.

Pausing the onslaught he was laying on Obi-Wan's neck, Maul considered this option. A very faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he trailed his fingers down the front of the ex Jedi's pants slowly.
Then Maul squeezed him firmly through the fabric of his pants, making it clear that they weren't going anywhere. Not now.
Shifting, the Zabrak slid further into the couch and allowed Obi-Wan to get more comfortable, rumbling with another fit of gentle purring.

Obi-Wan gasped, arcing into the hand between his legs- oh, it had certainly been /far/ too long. "Alright, then," he conceded, leaning forward to press open-mouthed kisses down Maul's neck, stopping to bite at his collarbone before sliding off the couch entirely to continue his onslaught further down. His knees were aching from the time spent on them treating Maul's injuries, but he supposed they could take a little more pressure.
He came to the Zabrak's stomach, grazing his teeth along the soft curve of his abs before reaching what had become a sharp tent in his shorts.  Obi-Wan looked up at Maul, gaze unapologetically hungry, before he pressed his lips to the wet spot against the silhouette of Maul's cock.

The kisses and bites had Maul gasping and even groaning a fair bit, especially once Obi-Wan had begun to go lower. Feeling the ex-Jedi's teeth run over his flesh, the Zabrak inhaled sharply.
And then Obi-Wan had gone lower, the heat of his tongue just barely out of reach of Maul's aching  arousal. Unable to refrain from it, he produced another growl from deep in his chest. This time, the meaning was unbridled lust without question.

Obi-Wan wished he had the patience to keep at it; to tease Maul until he begged - but his resolve crumbled at the low growl the Zabrak gave, a rumble that Obi-Wan could feel in his core. He reached up for the elastic of Maul's pulling it down far enough to free his (ridged; Obi-Wan suppressed a gasp) member, and then very carefully the rest of the way down Maul's legs, mindful of the wound on his thigh. He left them twined around his ankles, too rushed to care much about it - and leaned in to lick a careful stripe up the underside of his cock. "Still like me on my knees?" He asked, still wearing a coy smirk.

Maul watched Obi-wan, drinking in the sight of the other man removing the last of his clothing and marveling over his body. His companion was strong, but he was much thinner looking than Maul.
The wicked teasing had the Zabrak's hips jerking slightly, he grit his teeth and tilted his head back in a soft moan when Obi-wan's tongue ran along the length of his cock.
"I enjoy it much more now." Maul managed to breathe in response. The ex Jedi's teasing demeanor only served to fuel that enjoyment, and the Sith silently vowed to one day wipe that smirk from Obi-wan's face. The very idea of what he might do in retaliation to the admittedly very attractive human had to be set aside for now.

At that, Obi-Wan gave in, taking Maul's head into his mouth and slowly sinking down onto his length, his tongue pressed up against the underside. It had been - a good near-decade since he'd last done this, and the glide of Maul's cockhead against his palate felt foreign and uncomfortable, but the twitch of the organ in his mouth was gratifying enough for him to sink further down. One hand came up to knead at the Zabrak's good thigh, the other resting on the lip of the couch - as much as his own arousal ached, he refused to touch himself. He wanted to last long enough to see Maul fall apart in his hands; to see the tension in his brow fade completely and for him to let himself enjoy this. As much as Obi-Wan wanted this, Maul /needed/, completely and utterly.

Another growl let itself from the back of Maul's throat, his body awash with lust and want. Obi-Wan was going much slower than he was used to, even if it was not that slow at all.
But it gave him time to enjoy the sensations fully. The grazing of the ex Jedi's tongue over his head, and then at the base of his member sent his mind into a spasm, rational thought began to trickle away.
It was replaced by need, and a raw hunger for release. Maul wanted nothing more than to watch the other man take his length like this, but he felt the need for more as well. More of Obi-Wan, should he get the chance. Muttering curses and encouragement, Maul wove his fingers through the rogue Jedi's hair desperately.

Obi-Wan reached back with his free hand to pull his hair free of the elastic, letting it fall around his face - better purchase for Maul, should he feel the need to /pull/.
He bobbed his head further down, taking Maul almost to the root. It was just enough to feel Maul hit the back of his throat, bringing choked tears to Obi-Wan's eyes before he pulled back enough to breathe. His tongue kept up all the while, moving flat against Maul's shaft only to pull up and slide against his head, bitter and leaking steadily into Obi-Wan's waiting mouth.

Maul did indeed pull, as soon as Obi-Wan loosened his hair, he gripped it harder. Not too hard, but hard enough to convey what he wanted.
He felt himself drawing closer to the edge by the second, watching Obi-Wan work his cock and occasionally letting moans slip out. Resisting the urge to press himself into his companion's mouth, Maul shivered and leaned forward a bit, once more tugging loosely at Obi-wan's hair.
There was nothing else on his mind but pure desire, he didn't have the sense of self control to keep himself very quiet for long. And it didn't take long for him to reach the edge.
Shuddering hard and gripping weakly at Obi-Wan's hair, Maul climaxed with an incredibly feral roar that had welled up deep within him and forced it's way out. The roar gave way to louder purring as the Zabrak began to settle down, this time slightly more audible than before.

Obi-Wan moaned at the grip on his hair, tugging just hard enough to pull him further down. He could hear Maul start to lose his composure, moaning and struggling not to buck into Obi-Wan's mouth. Every noise he made went straight to the ex-Jedi's cock, and he found himself moaning with Maul, fingers gripping hard and nails digging into the soft flesh of the Zabrak's thigh.
He felt Maul thicken in his mouth as the Force buzz around them rose to a crescendo, and Obi-Wan took him down to the root as Maul climaxed with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the apartment. /Hope none of the neighbors were asleep,/ he thought as he pulled off, slowly, swallowing down as Maul began to come down from his high.
He could hear the Zabrak purring now, like the hum of some internal engine that matched the passion and the heat of the Sith. He pressed a hand over Maul's chest as he stood, on shaking legs, feeling twin heartbeats beneath the vibrations as he leaned in for a deep, desperate kiss. "Did you like that?" He asked, breathless.

To his own surprise, Maul reciprocated the kiss without hesitation this time. Gripping Obi-Wan's side with one arm, the Sith met his gaze and studied it carefully. "Yes, I did."
A pause, Maul's grip on the ex-Jedi's side faltered just slightly. "Did you?" He decided to ask, had he been too forceful? It certainly hadn't felt like it, and yet, for some incomprehensible reason, he wanted to make sure Obi-Wan was alright.
Something strange was happening, Maul noted with slight contempt that he could feel the barest traces of Obi-Wan's force presence intertwined with his own. That hadn't happened with anyone else before, perhaps it was only temporary.

Maul continued to surprise Obi-Wan -  the concern in his eyes was palpable, and Obi-Wan felt himself flush (although whether it was from embarrassment or the erection currently straining against his pants was anyone's guess). "Very much so," he answered, "but I'd appreciate a hand." He added, sheepish. He didn't know what Zabrak refractory periods were like - or, regardless, whether Maul would be willing to reciprocate the attention in any fashion after getting his own rocks off. Obi-Wan might have been able to cope with that if the sight of Maul, still panting and flushed beside him, didn't work him up more than he could ever remember being.

Now it was his turn to smirk. Pulling Obi-Wan into his lap--mindful of the wound to his thigh, Maul gently removed the other man's shirt. It joined his own on the floor.
He reached down to palm at Obi-wan's cock through his pants, dipping his hand low and back up with another firm squeeze. Maul focused his mouth on Obi-Wan's shoulder and collarbone, sucking and biting colorful bruises onto his skin enthusiastically.

Obi-Wan draped his arms around Maul's neck, moaning low in his throat and bucking into the hand between his legs. He was a little overstimulated after waiting so long, and the barest hint of Maul's razor-sharp incisors on his collar made his breath quicken. "That's - good," he muttered, placing absentminded kisses to Maul's temple, around the horn there and the shell of his ear.

Maul growled softly at the affections, carefully nuzzling into them as he undid Obi-Wan's pants.
Dipping his hands inside, the zabrak took care to grip and then stroke Obi-wan's entire length just as he bit down harshly on his shoulder. The twitches and jerks of the other man's body fueled Maul along, every ragged gasp and soft moan was threatening to bring him back to full arousal as well.
Obi-Wan was very attractive, the Sith decided to acknowledge. He leaned up to kiss at the former Jedi's sharp jawline, purring. His hands still stroking his partner's cock at a painfully slow pace.

Obi-Wan gasped as Maul's hand wrapped around him, twisting up his length with just enough pressure to be torturous but not enough to provide any real relief. The bite at his shoulder made him cry out, softly, his cock twitching in Maul's hand. His own hands traveled the length of Maul's back, running tracks with his nails down the Zabrak's spine as he ground down into his hand. "Harder," he urged, biting back a whimper as Maul's thumb grazed his slit.

Maul chuckled against his partner's pale skin, growling and beginning to stroke along his shaft a bit more roughly with his palm. His thumb teased at Obi-Wan's frenulum, and then he ran it just barely over the head of his cock and back down, pleased with how much he was leaking.
"Perhaps we should take missions together more often." Maul hissed, placing a kiss to the rogue Jedi's throat. "Would you like that, Obi-Wan?" He purred, in a lightheartedly mocking tone.

"If this is how they all end-" Obi-Wan's breath hitched, rutting against Maul's palm- "-I certainly wouldn't - wouldn't mind." He stammered, concentration fading with every stroke of Maul's calloused fingers on him. "I don't think you would, either," he added, straining to focus enough to speak with any degree of coherency. He didn't usually come apart this fast, but Maul certainly knew what he was doing, experience be damned. The only thing keeping Obi-Wan's pride together was the knowledge that he'd just made Maul lose it even faster.

Maul's responding snarl was aggressive in nature, but not threatening. His teeth were at Obi-Wan's throat, grazing his windpipe.
"I would enjoy every minute of it." The Zabrak  purred in response, jerking Obi-wan in full now, timed with his desperate thrusts. "Of all the insufferable people I've had to work with over the years," He breathed, "You are by far the most interesting. And attractive."
As if to emphasize his point, Maul pulled Obi-wan into a proper kiss again, rough.

Obi-Wan moaned, unabashed, into the kiss, digging his fingers into Maul's back as the harsh, frantic strokes pushed him towards that inexorable peak. "You're- ah- not so bad, yourself," he replied, his breath coming in harsh pants, now, every muscle in his body clamping down. "Maul, I'm -" he warned, but too late, as his climax hit him like a speeding freighter and he spilled into Maul's hand with a high, keening whine, hips stuttering for several moments more as he shook in the Zabrak's arms.

Almost instantaneously, Maul began to purr again. His bites and sneers becoming gentle nuzzling and kissing as Obi-Wan slowly began to calm.
When he was sure his partner was spent, Maul locked gazes with him and brought his hand up, slowly licking some of the mess from his fingertips with a bit of a smirk on his face. But once that was done as well, the Zabrak began to carefully look Obi-Wan over, wanting to ensure he hadn't done irreversible damage in his excited state.

Had Obi-Wan been younger and the day less stressful, the sight of Maul lapping the come from between his fingers might have given Obi-Wan cause for round two - but as it was, exhaustion hit him heavy, and he slumped into Maul's lap. He watched with vague interest as Maul looked him over, judging the depth of the bite marks and bruises along his torso, and the sight made him laugh. "I'm fine," he said. "In fact, more than. That was the best sex I've had in at least a few years," he leaned in to kiss Maul again, and then a short trail from his collarbone to his ear, where Obi-Wan added, "And I didn't even get to fuck you."

Maul huffed softly, allowing himself to relax again. Not a lot, but more than he had before. "No one has ever gotten to." He said, sounding amused.
Shifting where he sat, the Zabrak peered at the window and frowned. The power had still not returned, that was very unusual, even for coruscant's underworld. "I should let you rest now, hm?" Maul asked, turning back to face the other man.
"I'll gather my things and return to my base." He said, deciding Obi-Wan probably didn't need nor want his company much longer. He looked exhausted.

Obi-Wan couldn't say he was surprised- disappointed, though, certainly. Was he less 'interesting' when he wasn't coming apart at the seams by Maul's hand? Maul certainly wouldn't have been Obi-Wan's first partner to say something like that in the heat of the moment and duck out as soon as possible. He supposed it was the Jedi still left in him that didn't automatically expect it.
The smile that had been playing at Obi-Wan's died without fanfare, and he swung himself off of Maul's lap to stand and gather their clothes. "If that's what you want." He said, finally. "I really wouldn't recommend you move much with your injuries, but I won't stop you. Take the medkit; you'll need to change your dressings tomorrow." He tried his best to bite back the bitter tone in his voice - if Maul wanted that 'professional relationship' back, Obi-Wan wasn't going to let himself get in the way.