Chapter Text
Once again, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s circulation was being cut off at his jugular. The pressure of the clawed fingers were making him light and heavy headed all at once, whilst the hands applied such a strong grip that he began to feel his trachea take the effects too.
Once again, Darth Maul felt the pair of dainty, yet callused hands lose their fervor in their scrambling against his horns and forehead, scratching their way to a more permanent position, holding his skull at the temples when the two blue eyes fluttered open and stared a strained little glare.
Obi-Wan thrust his hips ineffectually for relief but was only met by a throaty growl that had Maul releasing Obi-Wan’s throat in order to snake one hand down the length of the Jedi’s robes.
His breath was exhaled raggedly as his Adam’s apple bobbed in relief against the thumb still pressed there. The hand that wasn't bracketing his neck was sliding underneath the layers of his robes. Maul’s movements were frantic in their exploration, the smooth flesh was warm and responsive underneath his touch and Maul couldn't help but wonder what this would have felt like.
As an apprentice, he’d been starved of physical touch and when he reached maturity he’d had no interest in this sort of pleasure. How maddening it was that when he wanted to, needed to, express his desire he couldn't. His bitterness was emphasized by another pathetic little thrust into his cupped palm. How dare he have what Maul could not.
Then again, Kenobi seemed to be losing himself in his own pleasure; he was weak. It was a sight to see that this Jedi Master could come undone by his efforts, drowning in Maul’s clawing intimacy. He slid Obi-Wan’s cock from his grip, trailing around to finger at the crease of his perineum before grabbing a handful of muscular thigh and hoisting the Jedi to grip his legs around metallic hips.
“Maul?” Kenobi queried with a shaky voice.
Maul didn't respond, except with another of his rumbling growls. He was glad of the Jedi’s cooperation in attempts, enjoying the uncertainty of the man who’d taken this pleasure from him.
With a thrust of his hips, he pinned the Master to the wall in a parody of sex and returned his hands to Kenobi’s cock, this time gripping it tightly and stroking with a rough, unrelenting hand.
The sensation of solid flesh melting into warming metal at the abdomen was clinical and invasive against Obi-Wan’s groin. It scratched as blunted metal does and radiated heat as living tissue does. Obi Wan did not like it, but his dick clearly didn't share his same tastes.
“Having fun, Kenobi?”
There was a huff of part laugher, part keening in response.
Obi-Wan then felt the Sith lean down and in, crushing his body even more into the wall, the following bite at his juncture of his neck and shoulder being accompanied by a thumb on his jaw to fix his head in place.
Each shuddering moan became more broken as Maul’s bites traced down to Kenobi’s collarbone, the wet pinches of skin complementing each pump on his dick. Maul maintained a quick pace of grinding his new prosthetics against the Jedi’s hips and began thumbing the head deliberately, each tense of the already weak thighs indicating just how close he was to climax.
The rapid build of orgasm was overtaking Obi-Wan, he could hardly do much else but hold on as the pace was set and controlled by the Sith. He was controlling every metallic scrape against his inner-thighs and balls, every raw slide of skin encircling his cock, even every twist and jerk of his head as Maul vied for access to his bruised neck. He was so hungry for this control over Obi-Wan, it was predatory and voyeuristic and Obi-Wan couldn't give any of it back; trapped like prey against the unrelenting metal panelling Maul had thrown them on to.
Pinching the Jedi’s chin to sharply tilt his jaw up, Maul set his sights on the column of Kenobi’s throat before nipping at it with his weathered front teeth, causing a hiss and even more thrashing underneath him.
Now he had him.
Maul quickened the pace of his fist, going for a harsh, quick release rather than a slow and teasing one.
It was so good to watch that calm face scrunch up in pleasure and to hear that running mantra of his own name gasped high and whining on those lips. Then, he hit plateau and let out a choked off moan that accompanied a seizing of all those taunt muscles and a spurt of cum into his palm.
Taking Maul’s transfixed stillness to be a sign of mental completion, Obi-Wan released his legs clenched tight around the robotic abdomen, but found himself still pressed to the wall, legs open wider now they weren't locked together.
“Maul… Let me down.”
Instead of complying, Maul braced his hand around Obi-Wan’s waist and held him there, canting his hips up in order to trail cum-coated fingers to the tight ring of muscle below his balls.
“D-don't try it, I’m too sensitive.”
Another interested little chuckle was heard before Maul slid one finger to the knuckle and pressed searchingly upwards.
“Fuck-“
His exclamation was cut off by Maul pressing his lips keenly to Obi-Wan’s, producing a broken moan. Tilting his body up so that his spine was awkwardly curved, Obi-Wan’s hardening cock slotted between Maul’s pecs, leaving a smear of pre-cum.
Maul toyed with him there for several more moments, coaxing more sharp breaths until Obi-Wan let out a quiet noise signaling his second climax.
With surprising gentleness, Maul placed one spent Kenobi on the floor leaning up against the wall.
With tired and hooded eyes, Obi-Wan brought his gaze up to the Zabrak and asked:
“Will you have a more comprehensive set of prosthetics the next time we meet?”
At the deliberate flick of gaze to his crotch, Maul smiled.
“We shall see, Kenobi.”