#mobitine

[sunsetofdoom]

Those prompts are so good. How about "Can I kiss you?" for the maul/satine third of Mobitine?

Oh hello, prompt that I haven’t touched in nearly a year. With COD finished I finally have time to come back to Mobitine goodness.

@the-son-of-dathomir @smarsupial @panthermouth @kinky-space-nerd I know all you dorks want this sweet, sweet Mobitine content. I missed my spiky kinky babies.

Domme drop goodness inside- discussions of kink stuff, but nothing on the metaphorical screen.

-

Maul sat the glass of water down next to the dingy couch in the quiet room, folding himself gracefully to the floor. He would be at Satine’s feet, if she didn’t have them tucked up beneath her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice steady.

Mired in her own misery, Satine eyed him. He was calm in the way that meant he was not calm at all, holding himself tightly against his own fear. Her brave boy.

“You may not.” She tried to sound stern, but the hint of a sob in her voice didn’t help. It kept flashing in front of her vision, the bright red of Obi-Wan’s skin, the breakage, the blood- “Is he...” She let it hang, not sure she could keep her voice together.

“I took care of him.” Maul blinked at her, slow and reassuring. “Beckah is looking after him, he has a mug of behot tea, but he worries for you.”

“It’s not me he should worry about.” She muttered. “I- I could have-” Stuttering, she swallowed, trying to keep her lower lip from trembling. She wasn’t a girl anymore, and could not afford hysterics in public.

“You did not.”

“But I could have.” Countering, she unfolded herself a bit to shake her finger at him- and then pulled her hand back, clenching her fist tight enough that her nails dug into her skin. That anger. That was how she’d done this. The anger that made its home under her skin and in her belly, that made her lose control.

“And yet.” Maul said, still too calm. He reached a hand out, catching her fist, and his claws- carefully capped- nestled underneath her fingertips to unfurl her open hand.

Leaning forward, she let him. There were still black marks on her palm from the cane, the damn cane that she hadn’t checked properly, that she could have seriously hurt Obi-Wan with. Maul’s fingertips traced over the marks lightly, rubbing them clean. His golden eyes lowered, he rubbed patterns into the heel of her hand, the base of her thumb. 

Her first thought was to stay upright, to pull away. To make herself an island. Allowing Maul to have her hand felt like a violation, like he was putting himself in danger just touching her. Like she was poison.

She breathed. Tried to remember times when Maul and Obi-Wan flinched away, not because they were afraid of her, but because they were afraid of being shown care, of being vulnerable. How deeply she’d known that the true solution was always to lean in closer.

Summoning what felt like all of her courage, she adjusted her posture and curled up on her side, draping her arm out to reach Maul, letting him have her hand. Satine did not often feel like a bomb waiting to go off, but here she was. Only a matter of time away from hurting the men she loved.

“We-” Maul started, his voice less steady. He cleared his throat, the wobble of emotion still there. “You must know that- we want this. This is what we want, what we need, from you. If you did not want to hurt us, then- our wanting you to hurt us would feel selfish. We would feel guilty for what we need, if you did not wish for it as well.”

“I still- I still feel dangerous.” Satine admitted, her voice small. “I still feel like I’m nothing but a soldier, inflicting harm for no reason but nebulous honor that means nothing to any but my own ego.”

Bringing his other hand up, Maul folded her thin palm between his own calloused hands, and nestled his cheek against them.

“I feel like a monster.” She had to whisper it, the fear too close to her heart. “I want things- too much. Sometimes so much that I feel I may burst with it.”

“Yes.” Was all Maul said, and she was grateful for his brievity, so much so that tears welled up in her eyes.

The benefits of having Force-sensitive lovers was that they knew what she was thinking- and adored her, regardless. 

He started and stopped a few times in his quest for his next sentence, but Satine didn’t mind waiting. She evened her breathing, and waited for Maul to find words that he hadn’t been raised with.

“This.” He settled on his beginning, and took a hand away from holding hers, to touch the golden chain around his neck. His collar, a necklace that he wore every day, even to sleep. “I- It is so much to me. Physical possessions ought to have no meaning.”

“Yet they do.” Satine murmured. Her boys both knew her stance on the no-possessions doctrines of their respective Orders, had heard her shouting about it many times.

“But- I-” He drew her hand up to his mouth, resting her fingers against his lips. His breath was warm on her cold skin. “The only thing that means more, is my lightsaber. Which is my- my whole self, my own soul.”

Satine sniffled. She remembered picking out the necklace herself, selecting the design, the clasp. The way the thick herringbone design flowed like water. She’d expected that it would be like Obi-Wan’s leather collar- something for play, something for fun. To put on when she took him to bed and showed him how much she wanted him.

Instead, he wore it every day. Slept with a hand around it, curled like a question mark, his thumb rubbing it smooth when he showed nerves. And it meant- almost as much as his weapon. Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn’t notice.

“Because it is you.” Maul continued, his voice shaky and small. “It is- love, and possession, and care. And, yes, pain. Which I need. And you provide.”

A whimpering sound tore its way out of Satine’s throat as she clutched his hand tighter. “Oh, cyar’ika.”

“Monstrous as you may feel.” Maul said with an air of finality, his voice giving out lighter and lighter. “When- You-” His hand starting to tremble, he took a deep breath and stilled it, his eyes closing. “I feel safe.” He said in a near whisper.

Starting to cry in earnest, Satine pulled herself shakily off the couch and rushed forward, crashing close to Maul until he opened his arms and pulled her close, pulled her up as he stood. Luckily his legs were strong, because hers were not, threatening to give out on her. Her wet face dropped down against his shoulder.

“Others need the aftercare room.” He said softly, stroking her back. “We might do this at home.”

“We might do.” She said, wetly. “Where’s Obi?”

“Behind the bar. Safe. With Beckah.” Maul rested his lips against her cheek. “I’ll signal a cab on our way out. And when we get home, he and I can wash your hair and- care for you.”

Nodding into his shoulder, Satine laughed through her tears. She felt ridiculous, but knew there was nothing for it. With some of the miserable thoughts brushed away, she had the clarity to realize how much of this was simple brain chemistry, a drop after an intense scene. “I should see to Obi.”

“He is taken care of. I bandaged him, reassured him. He will need physical contact, but- we are both aware of the procedure at this point.” Maul’s arms tightened around her. “You are not to over-exert yourself tonight.”

She poked him, gently, in the bicep. “Who’s giving the orders around here, anyways?”

“The one who has had no mental breakdowns tonight.” Maul answered, his voice dry. She barked a laugh, and drew back.

His gaze was soft, his lips pursed as though he were about to worry at them with his teeth. Once again, he blinked at her, slow and deliberate. She blinked in return.

“May I...” He started. His gaze flickered to her lips, his expression longing. She didn’t know how she’d ever seen his markings as concealing; his face read to her so easily now, his feelings mapped out in vivid red-and-black.

Leaning in, she kissed him. She was covered in tears and her nose was running, and Maul smelled of sweat and blood, but it was good. It was safe, and home.

[xiamei-sami]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Satine Kryze & Darth Maul, Satine Kryze/Obi-Wan Kenobi

This gets my vote for most creative Maul fic of the year. 

Maul and Satine working together to take down Bo Katan for the sake of Mandalore, I love it. Great writing and great idea, will be watching this one very closely.

[authorjcalamy]

How they met

A brief nod to @sunsetofdoom and their mobitine-verse.

I will be doing more, but this is a nice little blurb. 

One thing I became aware of is how STUPID star wars names are. Like if I was writing this myself and said I had an OC names “Satine” the eyerolling would be violent.

Satine decided that if she was going to die, it wouldn’t be crouching behind this bulkhead, cowering like an animal. Pacifism be damned. She drew her blaster and took a deep breath.

I am a Duchess of Mandalore, Prime Minister of the greatest warrior culture the galaxy has ever seen. I am not going to die on my knees!

She pushed herself up, forcing her shaking knees to action as she sprinted across the short hallway towards the rear of the bridge. Her brief dash was met with a hail of blaster fire, erupting from the front of the bridge where the pirates had seized control.

Satine was close to the lift, but not close enough. She felt the crump of a round smacking into the back of her armor and stumbled, her hand reaching for the lift key. Another round smacked her helmet and spun her around. She staggered backwards squeezing off a dozen rounds. But her feet tangled and she started to fall.

The lift opened and her momentum carried her right through the doors, still falling backwards. But instead of falling she was caught by strong arms under her back. A familiar face looked grimly down at her. Obiwan. Here? How? The visuals in her helmet were fading in and out.

 Satine drew breath to shout a warning when a black shape flew over them both, red light blaring at the edges of her visor. She struggled up in time to see another man running towards the front of the bridge, the hum of a light saber audible even under the hail of blaster fire that exploded in their direction.

“Obiwan” she said, yanking at her helmet clasps. “Help me” She wanted to see what was happening.

“Don’t worry” Obiwan said, pulling the helmet off with gentle hands, at odds with the chaos erupting across the bridge. “Maul will handle them.”

Satine forced herself up in time to see the other advance on the pirates. His saber staff batted the blaster bolts aside contemptuously as he stalked forward. Satine knew for a fact that there was at least twelve of the pirates on the bridge but to the man in black they were nothing. She watched with a kind of horrified fascination as he leapt and spun and dispatched fighter after fighter, the motions of his blades fluid and precise. He appeared in and out of the smoke and chaos, flinging pirates with the Force, beating them with his fists and feet, and wielding his staff with a kind of careless grace that made her inner Mandalore hum in appreciation. Maul? Was that his name? Even Force null as she was Satine could feel the power radiating from the warrior. It was like the pressure change before a storm.

 In less time than it took for Obiwan to pull her to standing it was done. In the sudden silence across the bridge Satine could hear her own harsh breathing. She clung to Obiwan’s arm, watching closely as the other man turned off his saber and clipped it to his belt in one smooth motion. As he walked back towards the pair, the flashes of sparks from the blown comms deck and control panels showed a terrifying face, black and red under a crown of horns. A Zabrak, then, and a Nightbrother no less. His eyes were blazing gold, reflecting back the dim light like a cat’s.

Obiwan stepped to the side as Maul came up to them.

“Maul, this is the Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore. Satine, this is Maul. He is… my friend. And more. Much more.” Satine had never heard Obiwan use this tone. Proud and fearful all at once. The word more had come out in a hoarse rasp that caught her attention right away.

“Thank you Maul.” she said, holding out a hand to the Zabrak. He blinked at her hand and glanced at Obiwan who gave him a tiny nod. Maul took her hand and executed a rather elegant bow, bringing her knuckles to his lips briefly. It was Inner Core high society manners to a T, completely at odds with the smoke and blood and crackling conduits around them.

“Satine, my dearest,” Obiwan continued “We need your help.”

[sunsetofdoom]

I love how you both choose the same prompt. THANKS GUYS. @soul-candle, @shadowmaat

Suffer in Silence - for whatever reason, (character) doesn’t want anyone to know they’re sick, and does everything they can to hide it.

Mobitine: an AU in which Maul and Obi-wan each ran away from their respective orders and took refuge on Mandalore, living with Satine.

this might get... long. yall know I have Too Many Emotions about this threesome.

Satine’s been watching them in the training room for a quarter-hour, and she still can’t quite pinpoint what’s wrong with Maul.

It’s not his form, perfect as always- his steady Juyo rhythm hits every position, every beat. Even his borrowed Soresu moves are steady and strong, exactly right- Obi-wan can’t even find any room to critique him. They both move through perfect katas with their practice blades.

And yet, every single time they turn to face one another, Maul hits the ground first.

In a normal match, it would be about even. They’re very well-matched in skill. That’s half of why she comes down to watch- to see which of them can best the other more times in a bout. And, admittedly, to join in on the kissing when they’ve decided on a winner for the day.

Today is different- Maul goes down round after round, hitting the practice mats with well-rehearsed falls that don’t bruise anything important. He runs, strikes, and is always infinitesimally slow. 

“What’s wrong?” Obi-wan asks, going to one knee with his practice saber discarded. He’s not even breathing hard, while on the ground, Maul is gasping. “Please just tell me, dear-”

“Nothi-” Maul chokes on the end of the word, his breathing stuttering on an odd sound, “nothing to tell.” He rasps as he draws air in, and out, and in, with slow and measured timing.

Satine narrows her eyes.

Obi-wan extends a hand, slowly contemplating a soothing touch- and withdraws from Maul’s overheated skin when he bares his teeth. Satine can see the quivering of his shoulders as he pulls away from Obi’s hand.

She listens to his labored breathing, the way he’s panting through his mouth and not his nose. Sees him shiver just a little when the cool air comes in from the vents.

Slipping her ornamental shoes off at the edge of the mat, she treads softly to meet them. Maul looks up at her, his bright-gold gaze irritated and just slightly pathetic. She can see his eyes are watering, just a bit, in a too-tired-to-stay-open sort of way.

Obi-wan looks up at her, too, still down on one knee, and inclines his head in respect and dramatism.

“Here,” she says, kneeling down next to Maul’s head. “May I touch you?”

He sighs. “If you must.” Closing his eyes, he rests his head back on the ground.

She reaches down, tracing soft fingertips across his horns, his scalp, and watches his face relax a bit. His breathing catches, and his chest jumps as he tries to cough with as little noise as possible.

“You’re ill,” she tells him, and his eyes open so that he can glare at her with watery eyes.

“M’not.” He sighs as she digs her fingers in against the base of his horns, his eyes fluttering shut. At the same time, his mouth closes, and he tries to breathe through his nose, making a rather horrible wet noise.

Obi-wan laughs, hiding his mouth with his hand like it might not offend Maul if it’s covered. Maul wrinkles his nose in disgust, and groans.

“Yes, you are.” She keeps petting him, softly, softly, and he keeps shivering and breathing through audible obstructions. “Now come on upstairs, so we can medicate you and make you comfortable.”

“I do not require- comfort.” Maul protests, as he wraps a hand around Obi-wan’s and allows himself to be pulled upright. Satine and Obi-wan share a dry look. “And I did not want to reveal that I... That I am not..”

“That you haven’t the strongest immune system in the Galaxy?” Obi-wan remarks dryly. Maul glares at him, glancing at their intertwined fingers with skepticism. “Maul, you’re one of the strongest people I know, but you were effectively locked in a cell your entire childhood. Your immune system had no chance to catch minor illnesses from other children and build up immunity, which is why you’re so susceptible now.”

They help him up together, Obi-wan on one side, still holding Maul’s hand, and Satine holding him around the waist. She leans her head against his warm shoulder, turning it into a caress instead of physical support.

From the other side of the room, Satine’s comm beeps at her. She swears.

“Back to work?” Obi-wan asks.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Government work waits for no one,” Maul rasps. He stops to cough. “Go, keep the world spinning.”

“You’re both ridiculous.” She declares. With one last nuzzle into Maul’s shoulder- he is so solid and so warm- she steps away to bid Obi good-bye.

He catches her with one arm around her waist, staring her in the eyes before he leans in for a deep, glorious, heart-stopping kiss. Her hand tangles into his hair and she never wants to pull away.

She opens her eyes to see Maul, now close, resting his head against Obi’s arm.

“Is this goodbye going to be extended to me?” He asks.

“Hush.” Obi-wan says, nudging him gently. “You’re ill. Can’t spread it.”

Maul scoffs, and Satine- who, while she would love to kiss him, really cannot afford to take a sick day- kisses her fingers gently and lays them across his lips. He blinks at her with studied affection. 

Obi-wan leans his forehead against hers- a gesture she returns with more force than is really necessary, her memories turning it into an old-fashioned Mando headbutt. She does miss that from her upbringing as a soldier and commando. The rough, open affection. Now that she has her men about her, warriors that she can think of as clan, it’s starting to come back.

With great reluctance, she pulls away from them. Obi-wan tugs Maul along with him to the doors of the showers, shouting a command to the computers to turn the hot water on as he explains the intricacies of juvenile immune-system development to a dazed Maul.

And Satine turns away, pulling her hair up and back to tuck into her headdress, grabbing her impractical shoes, and slipping back into her disguise as a graceful politician, and not a mad Mando with two beautiful lovers.

Duty calls.

[sunsetofdoom]

OKAY GET READY A WILD MOBITINE ASK APPEARS: how do Satine, Obi-Wan and Maul act when one of them catches a cold?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

I’M GONNA DO ALL THREE OF THEM BECAUSE. GUESS WHAT. I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS PAIRING.

When Obi-wan gets sick:

He pretty much does that thing he does on the battlefield where he goes “what concussion?? what broken ribs??? i’m fine, I’m always fine, who me??? FINE.” He’ll do his usual routine of staying up for hours reading and researching, steadily ignoring the way his “light sniffles” are becoming “my whole body hurts, my eyes are swimming, and my nose is running like a faucet”. And when someone brings him food, they’ll find a half-awake mess of a former Jedi, blearily staring at a page that he’s read three times and can’t seem to remember. And that’s when they call in Maul to come and grab him. Who will take him by the shoulders- despite the stuffy-nosed protests of “I’b fide i swear just lemme...” and drag his sorry ass upstairs. Possibly bringing one of the books just to shut him up. Obi-wan can’t stop talking on a good day, when he’s sick, drunk, or tired he gets infinitely more talkative. Maul just listens, rubbing his back as they walk, letting him yammer whatever he wants. He asks what the book was about and lets Obi-wan go on about it for the whole walk.

Satine is the type to immediately jump into Caretaker Action, but she’s always fucking busy too. Let’s say she’s back in her apartments for lunch, sitting and reading some bullshit paperwork, when her boys come in and Obi-wan- who looked a little pale and was coughing, the night before, but is now red-faced and dazed and holding his nose shut in disgust at what won’t stop coming out of it. Her immediate response is to put on tea, along with some horrible mixture of “all-natural” ingredients that her late elder brother used to force on her when she was sick. And settle a blanket nest on the couch, so she and Maul can keep an eye on him without hanging out in the bedroom. And popsicles from the freezer, six water bottles, and two boxes of tissues.

When she’s done gathering things, she sits and pets Obi-wan’s hair while he wrinkles his nose at the half-cup of strong-smelling cold remedy she mixed, with tea right next to him to wash it down. She picks something boring to watch that he won’t feel like he’s missed anything if he falls asleep.

And then her lunch break is over, and she has to return to her day job. So she kisses his forehead and instructs Maul to take care of him. Of course, she’ll message them on the text comm every hour. If they need anything they should ring her. Maul nods through all of this worry and bustle and slowly nudges her out the door.

Duty calls.

When Maul gets sick:

See, Maul is very used to being in pain. He’s used to hurting, and, unfortunately, hurting alone. If he gets delirious, he gets tetchy, and he’s not great with touch when he isn’t at 100%.

So he’ll retreat to the place he feels safest. Which is sometimes a little abandoned building in Sundari’s outskirts that he’s laid claim to, with food rations, stashed weaponry, reinforced doors, and blankets and clothes that he stole away specifically because they smell like Obi-wan and Satine, whose scents comfort him even if he can’t bear their actual presence. (This is Mobitine ‘verse’s answer to his Creepy Hate Shrine in Rebels btw) If he ends up here, he leaves them notes and updates by text, telling them that he’s safe, he just can’t deal with people right now.

But other times he holes up in their bedroom, tucked up in a corner of their bed. He’s not theatrical about being sick; in fact he tries to minimize the symptoms as much as possible. (never show weakness, if you show weakness you show the enemy an easy route to your death-) He just curls up with a box of tissues and a water bottle, maybe a book or show if he’s feeling adventurous. Cat curls up with him, usually. She knows when her Big Cat is not well. (have I told you about Cat yet??? I should just write this shit already)

And even when they know he can’t handle extensive physical contact, Satine and Obi-wan try to comfort him. Obi-wan brings books to read aloud to him, sat comfortably on the other side of the bed and reading to the large pile of blankets which presumably has Maul at the bottom. (At least once, when Maul has gotten paranoid, he has left Obi-wan reading to a decoy blanket-pile while he holes up in his safehouse.) Satine leaves him small gifts, food that he likes, extra tissue boxes, drapes more blankets on him when he sleepily wriggles out from under a few. Accepting comfort becomes easier as the days go by.

When Satine gets sick:

See, the thing about Satine Kryze is that she’s about the only person in the Galaxy that can rival Obi-wan Kenobi for being a GIANT WORKAHOLIC. Before her boys came into the picture, she would pretty regularly spend all morning in meetings, all afternoon in committees, have big political dinners, and then stay up horrifically late doing paperwork. She takes so much on her shoulders because she feels like she can’t trust others to do it Right. (author side-eyes Almec super hard) Even with her boys around, she overworks herself- they occasionally have to put their collective feet down and say, no, you don’t get to go to another meeting today, because you’re exhausted. And yet, government work waits for no-one.

She downs a terrific amount of Space Vitamin C, takes that vinegar-cinnamon-and-lemon-juice cold remedy three times a day (this is an actual thing that my stepmom makes me drink, it’s gross but it clears the SHIT out of your sinuses) and she Perseveres. For... probably half a day.

When she starts falling asleep halfway through her afternoon, Maul and Obi-wan are called to collect the Duchess before she makes herself worse. They each take an arm and guide/drag her back to the rooms, getting her into an incredibly hot shower, washing her hair. (Maul makes Obi-wan do that bit. Has he mentioned that hair is weird and gross and he’s glad he doesn’t have any??) And then they set up in a blanket fort, letting her doze across their laps while they watch some old Mando show that was on the networks when she was a child. (It’s hilariously violent, not allowed to be shown anymore because it’s a bad influence on the new generation. Satine’s nostalgia value remains, though.) 

Maul probably makes some kind of Nightbrother recipe that Savage taught him, bone broth with spices, and adds a few vegetables to make it more palatable for his humans. Obi-wan makes So Much tea. It’s a big comfort party.

I love this fucking pairing.

[sunsetofdoom]

I FEEL ENCOURAGED TO ASK MORE ABOUT MOBITINE HOPE YOU WON'T REGRET IT: what's their safeword and who uses it most often (if they use it at all)?

KEEP ‘EM COMING ANON. Sorry this took longer than the last one lmao, I had to go to work.

Putting this under a cut for non-nsfw talk about sex, trauma, and healthy kink negotiation.

SO. Satine, Maul, and Obi-wan actually use the traffic light system- red for “stop immediately”, yellow for “slow down” or “lighten up”, and green for “keep going” or “increase intensity”. At any point during a scene- or “regular” sex, or even a social situation- they can grab another’s hand, whisper “color?” and if the answer is red or yellow, they’ll get removed from the situation or just talked to about what’s not quite right. They also have a few bells, for when they play with gags, and a hand signal for physical contact- if they grab onto another’s hand, shoulder, or other body part and squeeze twice, it’s a “please stop” signal. And making eye contact and blinking twice, slowly, is a sign for “all’s good, even if I’m saying something out loud that makes you think it isn’t.”

Signals are an important part of kinky (OR VANILLA TBH) relationships. Satine has A LOT of experience in her local community and she knows this stuff inside and out, to the point where it’s not awkward at all for her. Which is good, because Maul and Obi-wan are a couple of awkward turtles who were never taught the ins and outs of how consent works.

ESPECIALLY Maul. Can you imagine how well “please stop, you’re hurting me” goes over with Darth Sidious? Not well. Not well at all. Maul has a very hard time saying “no” or “stop” especially when it involves his partners, people he respects and doesn’t want to hurt. Using a safeword actually makes this easier, makes it feel like he’s sending them a signal instead of begging or showing weakness.

For weeks before she was willing to do any kind of play with Maul, Satine put a lot of time and energy into practicing safewording out- she would come up and start touching him, and his job was to say “red”, “stop”, or “safeword”, at which point she would reward him with either a kiss or food. It was a very basic, Pavlovian sort of training, but it majorly lessened his fear response when he actually did have a bad reaction mid-activity.

SO the one that play needs to be stopped for the most is Maul- he has too many triggers to count after growing up being tortured into a weapon by a sadist Sith Lord. But a lot of the time it’s not him safewording out. If he goes nonverbal or is obviously uncomfortable, Satine or Obi will drop everything to check on him. Occasionally he (or Obi-wan, the stubborn masochist) will keep insisting that they keep going far past the point where they seem okay, especially during impact play; Satine knows when she needs to stop herself because their limits can get blurred. 

And she does occasionally have to safeword out, too. Dom/mes use safewords too, guys! She can get very distressed if her sadistic impulses run afoul of her pacifist ideology- while she likes hitting masochists who enjoy it, if someone seems upset while she’s striking them (even with happy tears or catharsis) she can feel really, really awful about it if she feels like she’s lost control. Obi-wan and Maul, both switches to varying degrees, are pretty good at taking over and not letting her subject flip out when she needs to recover. And then when the crisis is averted she gets cuddled and kissed and told yes, they wanted this, she did well by them, she took care of them and didn’t break her vows.

HAPPY CUDDLY DEFINITELY-CONSENSUAL BDSM PLAY *~*JAZZ HANDS*~*

[sunsetofdoom]

Hello I have a VERY IMPORTANT mobitine question: is Maul in this au smol?

Not in the way that counts ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

… Jokes aside, yeah, he’s the shortest of the three. He’s like 5'9 (not counting horns), Obi-wan’s about 5'10, and Satine is just barely under 6’ and likes to wear very tall heels.

[sunsetofdoom]

Op litterally wrote the best mobitine bdsm porn and still hasn't published it, but go off I guess

SKLA;JFSLKSJADL;GKH

IT’S BEEN 2 YEARS

IM WORKING ON IT OK

[sunsetofdoom]

OP was working on a Mobitine collaboration with me and is a saint for not killing me for not updating it for ~2 years but go off I guess.

oP LITERALLY HAS 3-YEAR-OLD WIPs AND HAS NO ROOM TO CRITICISE ANYONE TBFH

[sunsetofdoom]

NEXT, BEFORE THE BEGINNING, POV (u can choose my dude)

NEXT — the next line. meaning i will finish the sentence I’m on and write a new one, which you’ll get.

For the ObiSavage Marriage AU, wherein Obi-wan is telling Anakin that Palpatine was the Sith Lord:

“Yes.” Obi-wan almost whispers. This doesn’t feel like the sort of thing to speak aloud; the fair-haired child Anakin in his memories is staring him down. “And you’re one of the most powerful recorded Force-users in centuries. And we never suspected that…” His throat tightens. “Oh, stars, Ani. I’m so sorry I ever let him near you.”

Over the long-distance comm line, he hears Anakin breathe raggedly, and give a noise that starts as a sob and ends as a laugh. “You haven’t called me that in years, Master.”

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

before the beginning of the world has no place in our bed:

“Get me up,” Satine rasped. “Get me up there, Obi, now- they need to see me-”

“They bloody don’t, you have a stab wound-” Obi-wan fussed, but almost against his own will his arms and hands obeyed her command and held her weight, let her use him for support as she clambered onto the ruined palace’s balcony.

He watched in awe as she shouted and swore in passionate Mando’a, screaming to a crowd of her people where they were gathered over a soldier. Farmers and butchers armed with scythes and cleavers, tradesmen trying to protect their families from the instigators of this ruining war- but they stopped, at her voice. At her word.

Satine Kryze, clad in her under-armor suit (now ripped and torn, after a year of constant wear) and a patched-together skirt, the stab wound at her abdomen crudely bandaged, shouted herself hoarse from what had been her family’s palace. And they listened. What had been a half-mad mob was now a crowd of frightened people, only looking to protect their children from a thousand years of near-constant war. They were starting to hear her voice, her message that she had cobbled together between from years of pain and loss, and a few months of learning Jedi philosophy.

Obi-wan heard the Mando word for peace what felt like a thousand times, and his heart rejoiced and despaired; knowing that she was succeeding. Knowing that when she did, he would never see her again.

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

(this is hard cause 90% of my work is not published, i just let people into my documents all the time lmao. oh well.) here’s Obi-wan and Maul’s meeting from the world has no place in our bed, but from Obi-wan’s POV.

The young man turned, clearly overstimulated in the flashing lights and high music. Obi-wan didn’t blame him- he didn’t like it much either- but he had to wonder how one got pushed all the way to the back of the club with such obvious difficulty with the intense stimuli.

He had to shout about three times to get the Zabrak boy to look at him, and when he did, Obi startled for a moment- he was incredibly striking. The contrast between the patterning on his face, an indeterminate color under the shifting lights, and his softly-glowing eyes was beautiful. Not to mention the wide-open look of shock on his face. Obi-wan had never much gone for the doe-eyed type, but he was so pretty in his obvious lack of experience.

“Do you need to go outside?” He shouted. Around them, the dancers still gyrated; the other boy stared at Obi-wan’s face, but his body jerked away every time he was brushed by another living being.

The boy shook his head. Obi-wan read his lips, easier than hearing; I cannot hear you, he said.

Obi-wan gestured to the back door, an escape route he’d found to be quite convenient on a high-speed chase through this same bar. It led to a maintenance hallway, and then outdoors.

He had to try very hard not to pry at this strange young man with the Force. It was so natural to him, living in the Temple, to connect to someone’s mind on a surface level- to see the basics of who they were. It was strange not to do so. To go in completely blind. But that surface connection would be felt, even by someone Force-null. And the whole point of coming out here was to not be a Jedi, if only for a few hours.

So he turned, and saw the Zabrak step in, case the tiny hall, and step to the side of the door. It was done so fast and naturally that it almost didn’t strike him as strange, but he knew a combat behavior when he saw one. This strange Dathomiri boy- because that was clearly what he was, the red-and-black markings and the reflective eyes that he could see better in the low light of the hall than the flashing chaos of the bar.

(It was about a year later that Obi-wan reminisced on this night, and realized- he hadn’t been caught, that night, when he fell asleep on Maul’s chest. No, it had been here- when Maul pressed his back to the wall, and looked to Obi-wan as though he were the most important person on the planet. Those shining gold eyes, wide-open and almost pleading with stress and frustration and a strange, deep pain.

Obi-wan had always been a sucker for the lost and the hurt inexplicably left in his care.)

[sunsetofdoom]

Hi! I've got a mobitine au question: after Maul leaves the Sith, does Sidious hunt him down like he did in TCW? Also, how does Maul adjust to the relationship with both Obi and Satine (i mean given his Spartan upbringing i can imagines there must have been some issues). Bless you for this AU!

HELLO MOBITINE ANON I LOVE YOU. 

well, the first is the only thing approaching like... an actual PLOT in this story, lmao. Long story short is that Maul faked his death about a half-dozen times, and did everything physically possible to throw Sidious off his tail. and it worked for a few years... but he’s in the public eye now, as the consort of the Duchess. And that means the risk comes back.

Though, Sidious is ALSO aware that they’re in something of a stalemate- Maul is the only person alive with enough information to expose his identity as Palpatine. It’s a silent power struggle. It gives Maul so much anxiety, but he’s as safe as it’s possible to be at the moment; the rest, I won’t give away.

Now, as to how he adjusted to the threesome... It was actually a bit easier than being with Obi-wan alone. Satine is better at Talking About Feelings- Mandos are INTIMATELY familiar with PTSD, as a culture, so their take on trauma therapy is incredibly advanced. And Satine as a person has Seen Some Shit, and knows how to talk about it, how to help. Obi-wan is just emotionally constipated.

The main issue he has from Satine’s end is money, and luxury- he’s immensely unnerved by having dinner delivered, instead of hunting it himself. Having a bed big enough for ten people and sixteen blankets of varying size and fluff, instead of making himself a sketchy lean-to or nestling against the rocks in a cave. He copes by running off into the gutters of Sundari, and even the ruined deserts beyond the city bubble. A day or two of fending for himself in a hostile environment makes him feel less like the floor is going to drop from underneath him at any moment.

Plus, he can hunt things to bring back for his mates. He loves doing that.

[sunsetofdoom]

writingcyan

replied to your

post

:

How about 14 for the fic kissing prompt, between...

Oh maaaan, how does Qui-Gon feel about his Padawan leaving the Jedi Order to shack up with a Sith? I sense potential drama. :D

This is a long explanation that would probably be better suited to just. actually writing the gd story and publishing it already. but you know what my ridiculous brain won’t let me do??? WRITE THE FUCKING THING AND PUBLISH IT ALREADY. so you get an answer.

SO Basically, at Naboo, Obi-wan- who saw the red-and-black assassin attack his Master and said, instead of “oh shit Sith”, “oh SHIT I’ve been FUCKING A SITH”- snuck into the palace, because the sneaking in was much easier with one guy than with the assault team they used in the climax. And he found Maul, who was having his own “oh shit I’ve been fucking a Jedi” freakout, and they managed to have an honest conversation for once. In which, Obi-wan begged him to just run away, to get away from the Sith Master who had hurt him so badly. 

Maul allowed himself to be convinced, because he couldn’t kill his... well, not that he knows it, but Nightbrothers mate for life; once they have sex at a certain point in their hormonal cycle, they’re emotionally bound to their partner. So Maul can’t kill his mate, because that tendency was bred out of the Nightbrothers thousands of years ago (the whole mating process was made out of Nightsister magic, basically to get hyper-loyal bodyguards who were incapable of turning on them).

SO. Maul leaves Naboo, with one phrase of warning for Obi-wan: he’s in the Senate. Be very careful. Obi-wan is Knighted, for heroic actions at the Battle of Naboo (because the Sith being gone means we don’t let the NINE-YEAR-OLD into the SPACE BATTLE) and he... basically gives Qui-gon the cold shoulder for a full year. You want a new Padawan? You want to drop me like a hot rock? Fine. I’ll cease to exist to you.

This divide slowly mends as Anakin uses his Small Child Con Artist skills to bring his new, tiny family together again. He considers Obi-wan an older brother and Qui-gon a father, and very slowly gets them to talk a minimal amount.

That changes when Obi-wan witnesses their venerable Chancellor with his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. All at once he sees the need for approval in Anakin’s eyes, the mistrust of the Jedi, a “Chosen One” with phenomenal powers, and he’s in the Senate, be very careful, and the Force screams a warning that he’d been deaf to for years as he grabs Anakin, makes a thin excuse, and runs off with him.

It’s in the ensuing “what the hell do you think you’re doing” confrontation with Qui-gon that Obi-wan admits to everything- that he had been so lonely and frustrated after Mandalore that he’d gone out seeking certain encounters... And that his secret dalliance of three years had hit him in the gut when he recognized the Sith Assassin on Tatooine to be his... Friend? Lover? He doesn’t even know anymore. But he knows that he cared. That he still cares.

Therefore, by this point- when Obi-wan and Maul reunite- Qui-gon knows what went down between them. So, while he has a certain compassion for his former Padawan’s escapades, he’s determined to remain skeptical. It’s very Dad-With-Shotgun-Meets-Boyfriend. It’s fun.

[sunsetofdoom]

A question: if Maul is protecting Satine from Death Watch in the Mobitine verse, does this mean he only knows Saxon and Kast as enemies?

YOU KNOW WHAT I actually hadn’t thought of that. It’s almost a little sad. In canon, they’re the closest thing to friends he really has- and in this AU, he has so many other people... at the expense of the times he could have had as their commander.

I’d be willing to bet that they think of him as a Worthy Opponent, though- that’s pretty typical of Mandos. He’s running around cutting the heads off of their lackeys and they just think “shit, this guy is good. any way we can get him on our side?”

[authorjcalamy]

my WIP for a scene from my Nanowrimo novel 90K+ words. 

It started as a Human!Maul Mobitine AU and ended up much much more. Now we have a crime syndicate boss, an embassy employee with a sketchy past, and a nobel prize candidate who who is really tired of them both.

[sunsetofdoom]

6 24 25 33 (and then the singing) 45 for the fic writer ask meme?

6: how did writing change you?

It gave me a certain self-confidence, that this was A Thing I Could Do. While in retrospect my first writings were real bad, they were also better spelling-and-grammar wise than a lot of other content I saw (i.e., other fanfic and my classmates in high school). That made me feel like I was Good At It, which is really all I need to keep doing something. Feeling like I’m Bad At It is an instant killer in my interest at something, unfortunately.

And now, it gives me an outlet for all the nonsense running through my head day after day.

24: favorite scene you’ve ever written

Ooooooooh boy. The entirety of and then the singing was just my personal favorite writing I’ve done, but honestly, I think it’s gotta be the scene where Sidious rips baby Maul from Savage’s arms in there’s a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly. I’ve been told I made people cry. Hell, I cried writing it.

25: favorite line you’ve ever written

Hmmmm. There’s a few that I really enjoy in Chains of Despair, but it seems non-right to quote from that when I’m only about 30% sure that I could have written the line in question. Co-authorship is really fun, but eventually it gets blurry.

But I think it’s between these two lines in and then the singing, both of them about Maul and his grieving process over Savage (which is a tangled, seething, terrible thing, that i don’t think he ever truly knew how to deal with or get over.)

“Savage’s presence in the Force had been a calm, cool darkness, a balm to Maul’s own raging, seething Force signature. He’d felt like deep water and the depths of caves, places where eyeless things lived and loved and died without ever needing light.”

and

“It had crossed his mind multiple times, the image of Savage’s body cooling on the marble floor, cold and still with no one to wrap a hand around a horn or purr against his chest or even bury him, left to rot like the worthless thing Sidious considered him. 

Maul had heard the word heartbreak before, but he had never considered what it felt like until he pictured Savage’s body in that lonely, echoing place.”

33: alternate ending for and then the singing

Honestly, I didn’t really consider any way of ending this but with canon- it was always meant to be (at the time, Twilight of the Apprentice had just aired) canon-compliant.

You know, now that I think about it, one thing that I did contemplate was ending it on Tatooine, with Obi-Wan, finally making peace with him. Not going for a big confrontation- did I mention Twin Suns hadn’t fucking aired yet- but just sort of stalking him in a friendly-ish way, hanging around his house. 

The scene I had in mind was of him sitting on the roof of Obi-Wan’s hut, singing the first song he ever tried to sing as a child, Carrickfergus. The lyrics of longing for a home and family that is dead and gone (my boyhood friends and my own relations/ have all pass’d on now with the melting snow) and being ready to join them (ah but I'm sick now, my days are number’d/ come all me young men and lay me down) rather fitting as he accepts the twilight of his life. And Obi-Wan comes out and calls him songbird, and asks him in for tea.

I ended up using some of those concepts for I’m Tired, Aren’t You Tired?, but I didn’t get to that scene. I wish I’d written it.

45: share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

Please keep in mind that I’m bad at finishing things, but the two stories that have An Actual Concept (i.e., aren’t just porn) are:

1: it starts like this (real title pending)- in a good universe where Palpatine got eaten by the Zillo Beast, Anakin and Padme are having minor problems and end up looking for a third partner for the bedroom. Riyo Chuchi, very cute and very enthusiastic, ends up less of a just-bedroom partner and more like a girlfriend. Just cute threesome fluff.

2: Mobitine bodyswap: Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has a minor hiccup in his ship’s flight to Mandalore for a diplomatic visit. He does not realize this was an interdimensional problem until he gets to the Mandalore palace, only to find everyone calling him by name, very enthusiastic to see him- and when he walks into Satine’s office, finds Darth Fucking Maul of all people, kneeling at her feet.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan Kenobi, husband of both Maul and Satine and Royal Consort of Mandalore, ends up on a Jedi vessel, intensely startled by being referred to as General. And it turns out there’s a problem with a certain mad former Sith, who wants his attention by any means necessary.

[sunsetofdoom]

HAPPY (LATE) BIRTHDAY SHANNON

I SAID IT WOULD BE DONE BY MIDNIGHT, IT WAS DONE BY MIDNIGHT. BOOM. DONE.

Not that you were, like, awake. But whatever. Sad soppy hotel-room boys take time to write.

So! This is a day-late birthday present for @the-son-of-dathomir, aka one of the best and most intricate Obimaul writers currently active, who allows me to yell at her about my Sad Boys In A Hotel Room ‘verse (the one that eventually leads to Mobitine, if you’ll recall) and yells right back. This is taken about 60-70% from ideas she’s had and flung at me to make me cry.

LOVE YOU SHANNON. HAVE SOME SOFT BOYS.

Obi-wan pried the door handle around with some sense of trepidation. It had been a few months since he’d seen Maul last; since he’d shoved a blanket at him and told him to take it home, to hide it away. Maul’s bright and wide-open eyes had haunted him ever since their parting.

More so, since he’d encountered a vagrant wearing what appeared to be a Jedi Temple-issue throw blanket over their shoulders. It couldn’t have come from anywhere else, not one of those blankets in the same condition.

The door squeaked as it opened, and Obi-wan let it, in case Maul was inside and likely to be startled.

“It’s just me,” he called, “and I have food.”

The bag rustled in his hands as he turned and shut the door behind him, proving the truth to his statement.

“I am here.” Maul’s hoarse voice echoed off of the tiles of the small refresher, and Obi-wan could hear the water running.

He smiled to himself. Maul always made a point of taking a very long, very hot shower whenever he had the chance- his reaction the first time Obi-wan had pulled him into the hot spray, of confusion and awe, had proven it wasn’t a luxury he was afforded often. His first question, when does the timer shut the water off, still made Obi-wan feel slightly sick.

Setting the bag down on the still-made motel bed, he made it to the ‘fresher door in a scant few steps. Opening the door, a thick cloud of steam rushed out at his face.

As it dissipated, Maul’s vibrant patterning came into view; he was looking at himself in the dingy and fogged-up mirror. As Obi-wan watched, he swiped a hand across the glass to clear a new layer of steam off.

His hand left a thin strip of red across the mirror, and Obi-wan’s stomach sank.

Maul’s eyes darted towards him in the mirror, and yes, Obi-wan could see the flecks of blood around the bases of one horn; the last to be cleaned, given the stained cloth he was holding in his other hand.

He opened his mouth, feeling the words bubble up inside him to demand answers, but- he couldn’t. He pursed his lips, held his breath, kept the words inside.

Asking questions of Maul would set a dangerous precedent. If his lover couldn’t answer, it would break the trust they had built. And if he did answer, he might expect the same from Obi-wan.

His fingers twitched, wanting to touch the back of his ponytail to make sure his Padawan braid was still safely hidden.

This room had been a safe haven, for both of them, for years. But they both knew they couldn’t afford honesty.

The little Obi-wan knew of Maul’s life made him sick and sad and sorry, the deeply-held wish to save others, which had made becoming a Jedi Knight his life’s goal, flaring up brightly whenever he felt half-healed wounds on his lover’s skin. He knew Maul called a man Master in a way dissimilar to the way Obi-wan did, calling out in his dreams in fear of him. He knew that Maul had faster reflexes than any non-Jedi Obi-wan had ever met, that his first instinct was to lash out when frightened. And he knew that Maul would rather freeze and bear pain or discomfort, than risk saying stop or I don’t want that.

That last one he’d managed to fix with a physical safeword, making sure that Maul knew he would move off of him whenever Maul tapped his shoulder twice. But making him understand even that much had been a struggle.

In the mirror, Maul looked away, scrubbing at his last horn with vigor. The rest of his skin was still wet; the blood had dried so thoroughly on the bone that it required great force to scrub off, even after the shower. Obi-wan didn’t want to think about what he’d looked like before he’d gotten in.

So he didn’t think. He stepped around, grasping the edges of the cloth in Maul’s hand, whispering “may I?” to a look of confusion on Maul’s face.

He nodded, and Obi-wan wetted the cloth again, working with his own hands to take the blood from the bleach-white bone.

It came off well enough that he was satisfied, and as he worked he felt Maul relax, watched his stance sink to something less ready, less wary. Obi-wan set the cloth in the sink, and guided Maul out into the room proper, always keeping his hands a few inches away from damp, warm, patterned skin until Maul was willing to give him permission.

“Here,” he said, picking up the sack and pulling out a few takeaway containers. “Food.”

Maul took what he was handed mechanically, sitting cross-legged on the floor with no regard to the way the towel around his hips fell half-off. Obi-wan pressed a utensil to his hand as he struggled with the lid, knowing there was a real risk of Maul just eating with his fingers if he wasn’t specifically given something to eat with. 

The container was from the same place they usually went, just a block from the motel where the owner had promised him unlimited access to the least-used room. (He’d gotten Ukibo’s brother cleared of murder charges. Being a Jedi had its perks sometimes and trading in favors was one of them.) It was a good mix of vegetarian, carnivore, and omnivore fare, and Obi-wan was genuinely fond of their flavorings.

Maul had never quite seemed to have much preference. The first time Obi-wan had brought him food- an all-raw-meat dish, not overly spicy but seasoned well- Maul had stared at it in pure confusion, and almost choked at the taste. He’d needed several cups full of water to deal with the spices, but he seemed to like it. He was a hard one to get a preference out of, but this item was the one he finished the most quickly.

Obi-wan had a bottle of water ready for him, too.

They ate in silence, Maul inhaling his as usual, with only a few momentary breaks for water- when he couldn’t stand the spices any more, probably. He was already downing the rest of his water, trying to get the burning sensation from his mouth, when Obi-wan decided he was done with his own food.

He put his half-empty container back in the bag to take back, already constructing the story he’d tell Master Qui-gon- that he’d gotten food with Galen, come back to the Temple with his escort like a good little Padawan, and spent the rest of the time holed up in the library. The trick was to make something up that was presumably a mix of lies and truth, just so Qui-gon would have no inclination to ask for details.

Maul set his empty box and bottle in the trash bin, and wrapped his towel back around his waist. He sat back, his shoulders even with the folded blankets of the bed, and finally seemed a little more aware of his surroundings. He looked around the room; he hadn’t cased it the way one would a hostile environment, not for a year or so, but now he looked at the walls and furnishings with suspicion, as though they might be clever tricks that would melt away to reveal whatever confines Maul considered normal.

Obi-wan watched his friend’s gaze scan the room as he made his way to the bed, taking his outer shirt and his belt off. It felt good to sit down after a few very long days of saber practice, earning a free afternoon. Maul’s horns dipped a little as he lowered his head, and Obi-wan just continued watching him with his back to the headboard.

He tried not to expect anything. They didn’t always have sex, both of them seeming to have very active and physical lives that left them sore and tired, but they did always sleep together, holding each other. An indulgence, for Obi-wan at least. Not something he was allowed, but something he needed. If he put the effort in, he could purge the need for it out of his heart, maybe- but for now, it was all that kept him going some days.

This had started as a way to get over Satine, to leave the memory of her warmth behind. But now he’d just replaced her with Maul as someone to ache for during his long and lonely days in the Temple, as his friends graduated to Knighthood and Qui-gon became ever more distant...

“Do you still have that blanket I gave you?” He interrupted his own thoughts with a question that had been boiling in the back of his mind, spilling from his lips unintentionally.

Maul’s horns jerked as he sat up. He whipped around, staring at Obi-wan, his golden eyes reflecting the light of the bedside lamp.

“What?” He asked. His voice still sounded hoarse, almost from a lack of use. Obi-wan had a suspicion that he didn’t get much conversation in his daily life.

“The blanket,” he repeated. “The throw blanket that I gave you. Do you still have it?”

Maul just looked at him, something torn-open and wounded in his gaze. Obi-wan held his eyes with what felt like a great deal of bravery.

Giving him that blanket had been one of the strangest, most humiliating, bravest, and most revealing things he’d ever done. He’d snuck it out of the Temple with him in a backpack, and at the end of their visit, pressed it into Maul’s arms over his protests. Both of them had been near tears- Maul shaking his head the whole time, Obi-wan babbling on about how he saw Maul wrap himself so tightly in the blankets, how he took so long in the shower, how he deserved warmth and comfort and please take it, please...

Eventually Maul had gone silent, folding it up in his arms and nodding. He’d left through the window, as usual.

And then a month later, on a Coruscant-based mishap-turned-mission, Obi-wan had seen a vagrant in this same neighborhood with a green Jedi Temple issue throw blanket over his shoulders. And- those were kept circulating between active Knights until they were rags. It had been a battle to find one that had any sort of insulation left to it- he’d gotten to it when Quinlan Vos moved out of his shared quarters with Master Tholme, smuggling it out with a pile of things that had once belonged to him. (Obi-wan felt justified in this. His split from Quinlan had not been amicable; it was adequate payment. Plus, Quin never got cold.) To see one outside of the Temple at all was mind-boggling, let alone one still intact.

He hadn’t been able to ask the bum where they’d found the thing, too busy helping Qui-gon with the cleanup. But he knew what he’d seen and it had half-broken his heart.

Maul stood, let the towel fall, and clambered onto the bed. Obi-wan moved the blankets aside to make room, shimmying his pants off of his hips- it seemed unfair to keep them on with Maul fully naked beside him. Maul tucked himself into the crisp white sheets like a love letter folded into an envelope, and turned over while Obi-wan shucked his undershirt.

They curled around each other, skin to skin, Obi-wan’s chest to Maul’s back, Obi-wan’s arms over his chest and Maul’s patterned hands twined around his fingers. Their legs tangled like creeping vines.

Obi-wan felt Maul’s breathing, the ways it stuttered and then steadied into a deep rhythm, and then inexplicably quavered anew.

“I- still have it.” Maul said.

Obi-wan hummed, a questioning sound. Something like anger stirred in his belly, but he let it ride- there was a shiver to Maul’s voice that disturbed him. He tried to forget the blood on the cloth in the sink.

“The blanket. I still have it.” Maul insisted. Obi-wan stroked his fingers against Maul’s belly, rubbing small circles into scarred skin and thick muscle. “It- it smells like you. I think of you when I put it about me.”

That Obi-wan doubted. The thing was Quinlan’s for years, and he’d never used it for anything but a chair-cover. It had to have absorbed Quin’s cedar-forest smell, there was no way it had picked anything up from Obi-wan in two days sitting folded in his room.

“I-” Maul started, and his breathing was shuddering again, “I sleep with it, and I wish for your company. I think of you when you are not there.”

With their bodies interlaced, Obi-wan felt intimately how Maul trembled all over, like a fever chill.

“I want,” Maul started, miserably, a sentence fragment that he almost never allowed himself to complete. “I...”

“Shhh.” Obi-wan hushed him, laying his palms down flat over Maul’s two hearts, feeling the double-time beat slow under his hands. “It’s alright.”

Maul curled his body tighter, guarding his chest, his belly, his vulnerability. Obi-wan followed, chasing the contact, not letting him retreat inside himself. Feeling his breathing, his heartbeat. Telling him without words that he deserved to be warm.

--

Maul swallowed back more words that felt desperate and sick, hoping that Ben knew what he meant. What he wanted. What he was pretending he could have, if he were the sort of person that could be free.

In a few hours, he would have to push Ben’s existence from his mind, go back to base, do his training. Master Sidious had already heard his mission report, and likely wouldn’t be back for days, but had made it a point to return quickly in the past. Just to keep Maul on his toes. Maul did not fault him for this; Master Sidious was wise and trained him well. But he could also trust that after a mission report, Sidious would have other business to attend to for a while.

So he could have this. But he would have to go back, burn and purge himself into a Sith Apprentice. And sleep on his bare mat, drink from his rusted sink, and have his single closet with two changes of clothes sorted through by a cleaning droid, who would of course report to Master Sidious if there was anything out of the ordinary. Like a blanket, which Maul had never been allowed in his life.

A soft kiss was laid on the back of his neck, and it softened Maul’s tumultuous feelings.

“Let me help you,” came Ben’s voice, breathed into the back of his neck. Just over his bared spinal cord.

Maul breathed out. He did not say what he thought, which was you can’t; because the fastest way to frustrate his Ben was to imply him to be as helpless as any other sentient.

Instead, with the bare and clumsy kindness he had gleaned very slowly over the last few years, he said, “You are.”

And tried to let it be true.