A little gift fic for the absolutely wonderful @domobird who, due to reasons that are fully my fault, I am currently an unacceptable distance away from. I hope you enjoy this, dear. It was actually really fun to write, and totally got away from me ^^”““
Maul knows what he needs to do. He is ready. He has always known.
Kill the Jedi.
This is what he has been trained to do, what he has been raised to do, as far back as he can remember. He is ready.
His boots strike the sand with a dull thud, his lightsaber bursting alight in his hands. As the crimson blade crackles to life, the Jedi barks something at the boy. The child hesitates, and the man yells again. That time it works, and the boy turns heel and flees across the sand.
The Jedi turns, his own saber glowing green as the power Maul remembers Mother Talzen wielding.
He is…nothing, like Maul expected.
He is…beautiful. He reminds Maul of an old sense-memory, one he doesn’t quite trust to have been real, of life and warmth and green growing things.
Maul falters. The Jedi notices the hesitation, and one brow rises. Curiosity. A challenge.
When Maul still does not move, the Jedi calls out.
“Who are you?”
Maul’s lips move without thinking. “I am Darth Maul. I have been sent to kill you.”
“Why?”
“My Master orders it.”
He wants to say, you are beautiful. He wants to say, you remind me of freedom.
“Why have you not attacked me then?” the Jedi asks. There is caution in his gaze, but a growing curiosity as well.
Maul hesitates again. (He had never hesitated before. It is a new sensation.)
“I do not know,” he admits.
He takes a step closer, and the Jedi does not step back, just watches Maul’s approach like a cat watching a larger dog. It sends a thrill up Maul’s spin. He wants.
The Jedi is gorgeous, even like this. Maul wonders just how beautiful he would be lost in something else. In pain, or in pleasure.
He wants.
Another step. “Who are you?” he asked the Jedi.
The Jedi tips his head to the side, hair catching in the breeze that whips and tangles in Maul’s robes. “Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”
Maul takes another step. Then another. Soon he is only a few paces away from the tall Jedi.
The Jedi, Jinn, watches him with sharp eyes. Maul licks his lips, watches those eyes follow the movement. He grins.
“I don’t think I will kill you today, Master Jinn,” he says, stepping closer still, until he is nearly nose to nose with the taller man. Two lightsabers hum in tandem as Jinn stares down at him, eyes wide with surprise, which only grows when Maul jerks forwards, catching the back of the man’s neck with his free hand and pulls him down into a kiss.
It is not gentle. It’s rough, tongue and teeth, a battle for dominance that the Jedi seems determined to win even in his dazed state. And then, as abruptly as it began, it ends. Jinn pulls away, rough and startled, backing up a few steps as he swiped the back of his hand across his lips. He does not move fast enough to keep Maul from seeing the blood.
Maul grins. Behind the Jedi, there is the roar of engines, and a ship appears, the ramp down and a young man leaning out.
“Master!”
Jinn looks to ship, and then back to Maul. Maul feels his grin grow into a smirk. He flicks his fingers in the direction of the ship, feel the young Jedi’s eyes on him.
“Until next time, Jinn.”
Oh yes, Maul thinks, as he walks Jinn run and then jump up onto the waiting ramp, and then vanish into the sleek silver ship which quickly vanishes from sight. There would be a next time.
He licks his lips, tastes blood and Jinn there. It was intoxicating.
