No one said Sith was easy

Author’s note: I own nothing. Yay! A review! Keep them coming! Thank you!


“My master…”

Sidious stopped. His hand, about to reach for a holocron paused in midair. “…yes, my apprentice?”

Silence.

Inwardly Sidious sighed, part relieved, part concerned. Now he would hear it. Something had been troubling the young zabrak; it was causing minor… disruptions in their training. He had been impatient to hear its source but had counseled himself in waiting. Prying would not stop it, only admission would heal this rift. Its nature seemed familiar, yet foreign. Let it never be said that a Sith’s path was easy. Oh no! How well he remembered the battle with his inner frustrations when he too, was apprentice. His late night stalks, pointless rages, uncontrollable hungers… the true test was always the mastering of oneself. If one is not their own master, they will never master another. Maul rose from his crouch; silently he passed behind and moved to the window, his grace far beyond his fourteen years. Carefully Sidious watched him, felt, and sensed the quiet suffering in his aura.

“You are in pain.”

“Pain is an illusion of the flesh, my master.”

“That may be so, but it is an illusion you feel, therefore making it a reality. One that will only grow until you sever it from its roots. Pain, my apprentice, breeds like fear, if you do not stop it.”
Maul chuckled, his stance eased. This too, worried Sidious. There was a small part of his apprentice that remained painfully… naive. He was too easily soothed. A simple word with a pleasant tone of inflection could calm him, snap his focus. And it was not just from himself. Exhaustively he had tested; the ominous results remained the same. It happened with them all.

Every sentient who he had brought to the slaughter that was able to keep their calm had done it without effort. The ones who panicked, they fed it, set his blood boiling till the dark side was tangible in the air. Then he moved as a true Sith. But those that could calm him killed the heart of his art. Any bounty hunter from Coruscant to Korriban could kill as he did then, and better. His heart removed, his passions detached, it was painful to watch. It was then a simple, emotionless act.
True Sith gave the impression of calm, but they must always be burning beneath, keeping the fire stoked so that the flames would burn bright and hot when needed. A true Sith took this rage and forged it like a fine blade, gave it balance, and a razor edge. True Sith never lost their focus. Maul… did. Often. It had to stop. And this disturbance was part of it, there was no mistake. Its resolution would be the first step to sealing the leak.

“You are silent my apprentice. Voice your pain, or uproot it yourself.” Maul bent his head.

“Master… it is empty.”

“Empty? Explain.”

The Zabrak sighed, his eyes shut. “I, am empty, my master. There is a void that I cannot fill.”

Sidious hissed in disgust. “A void, lord Maul? Is this path not what you seek to follow, that you find no fulfillment in it?”

Defensively the eyes shot open, Maul turned, his breaths becoming silent, his eyes darker. “Yes… that’s it… feel that, and tell me again you are empty, the dark side is always welcoming you, it is yourself that will not embrace. Keep this feeling, let it fill the… and you’ve lost it. Again!” Maul crumpled as the force wave shot into him. The stone gave a decisive crack as it connected with his shoulder, making the youth yelp in pain. “You let it go! Where, my apprentice, is your focus?!”

“…Master…”

“No! I will not tolerate excuses any longer. If you are too weak for this my apprentice, I have no use for you.”

Panicked Maul forced himself back to his feet, “I will not fail you master!”

“…My apprentice, you already have.”

And the battle was done. Maul withdrew, closed himself off for the moment and walked back to the window. They stayed that way for some time. Silent. Sidious waiting for the Zabrak’s pride to break. An hour passed, two. Sidious resumed watching the holocrons, maul did not move.

“I am weak master.” Sidious turned, felt the self loathing consuming his apprentice, and smiled.

“Yes Maul, you are.”

The horned head drooped; the breaths grew harsh with suppressed passions. (That’s it, that’s what I want… break clean.)

“Master.”

“Yes, my apprentice?”

“…Make me strong.”

…

Maul woke, smiled quietly. It was a good dream, one he learned from every time he saw it. He rose, watched the stars pass outside his ship on auto pilot to Korriban. There were things he would settle there before starting his hunt, matters that could not wait. A quiet discontent rolled over him. The problem was still not solved. He would hone himself again.

…

The surface of Korriban, dry and warm, glowed in the dying light as Maul walked the path from the valley of the tombs to the ruins of the academy. The dark side drifted like a scent about him, whispering of those long gone, those whose stories were still untold. The valley still lay in ruin, but had the Republic posted someone to watch the haunted planet, they would have reported in with a frightening tale. The coffins of the ancient Sith were being buried. From month to month the valleys center grew more spacious as the dead and their encasings returned to the soil. But the Republic did not observe Korriban. A grievous mistake.

Inside the academy Maul shed his robes, part of the building was now flooded by an underwater stream that had been used by the Sith here in ages past, and the cold felt good on his skin in a place of such solemn darkness… he stood, listening to the whispers of the force as the icy pool rippled around him. A hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but did not stir. Another hand, and a soft, sinful laugh. They were around him, their misty forms fading in and out of focus, another brushed his back. There came a feeling, such as lips on his chest, it departed like the mist it was, leaving the Sith lord amused, and interested.

(Walk with us…) unbidden in the back of his mind, (walk with us young lord, we are lonely in your absence…) he sighed as another pair of lips pressed his shoulder, followed them as they bid him threw the pool and further in, until they rose above it, floating around him, brushing him more frequently. They led him to abandoned living quarters; broken storage compartments littered the floor, a cracked and mattress less bed in the corner. (Lay there… trust us… you are beautiful to us Sith lord…) the feel of hands gently urging him forward, he laid himself upon the slab. Instantly all changed.

The room was lit at the corners by dim red light; the bed was soft below him, the walls and floor showing no signs of receded water. He grunted as a tongue traced down his chest, watched as they, fully visible now, surrounded him on the mattress. The one at his chest nuzzled, rubbed her soft cheek against taunt muscles. Another sat above him, placed his head in her lap and ran her fingers along his horns. He relaxed in her lap, watched with half shut eyes as the remaining two came forward and crawled to him, smiled coyly and placed their chins upon his thighs. He groaned a little as the vixen at his chest sucked on his skin, running her hands over his abs and sides. Her hot tongue slipped along his collarbone as she moved up so her breast could rub against him.
A hand closed around his growing hardness, squeezed lightly. He shivered, arched as the hand ghosted over his veins, traced a thumb over the head. They laughed, seeing him buck, shut his eyes. He hissed as a mouth closed over him, sucked and rubbed with teeth until he stood full, the other was stroking his thighs, kissing and nipping, her fingers rubbing over his sacks. Underneath them he twitched and shivered, moaned as the smell of their desire reached him. He grabbed the one above him, pulling her closer until she lay across him. The mouth on his manhood slid down further, began a slow sliding motion, up and down, up and down, up…
The forth tickled his sacks with her nails, bit a little harder into his inner thigh. Above her the third swallowed him completely, grinned as she felt him seep down the back of her throat. (You are so strong Sith lord…) whispered the one at his chest. Her hard nipple rubbed against his heated skin. (How many Jedi have you killed?) She darted her head forward, pressed her lips to his, and opened her mouth to his tongue as he held her against him, feeling dizzy, throbbing in his need. “I want…” they laughed, even the one swallowing him. (We know.) His breaths speed up as the pressure in his sacks grows, becomes an ache, his muscles tense. Before it can build any farther the one bobbing on him applies pressure to his base, forcing him to groan. (How can we best serve you?)

He pushes them off him, turns and forces the one who had held him into the mattress; she whimpers as he laps her breast, tugs on a nipple with his teeth. His hand slips down between her thighs, rubs her entrance. She mewls, spreads herself for him as his finger slips inside. He grunts as she clenches around his digit, rubs his weeping head against her thigh. The others are kissing his back, rubbing themselves against him. (Sith lord… I want you inside…) she clenches again, arched to meet him. He shudders, stills himself to regain control. “Say it again…”
(I want you inside me Sith lord… I want to feel that power move in me, fill me…) Maul gives a strangled growl, pulling his finger free and slipping into position. He pulls her legs up on either side of him, rubs against her, and groans at the feeling of her nether lips spreading to surround his tip. (Now, do it now… ahhhhmmm, yess…) he sheathes himself, bucks without control into her, so wet and tight… her legs wrap around his waist as he sets a hard, fast pace, sack slapping against her as he buries himself further in. she cries out, thrusts back against him, her slick walls clenching and pulling him deeper, milking him. It builds again and he does nothing to stop it, thrusting harder, the sound of his own panting loud in his ears. She gives a deep moan, seemingly surprised, before her body twitched in orgasm, clenching about him wildly. It is more than any man could stand. He thrusts forward hand and quakes as his seed splashes inside her, humps helplessly until the spurts slow, and cease.

The feeling of their kisses ghosting over him, his muscles limp, contented and tired. He lies upon her, head on her breasts, breathes deep, quiet breaths. The power of the dark side is as pungent as the smell of sex and he basks in its glow. His eyes close. Sleep takes him.

(Thank you Sith lord, thank you for our rest. Our tombs now undisturbed below the sands…)

(Sleep Sith lord, the dark is strong here.)

Hours later Maul stirs. The chill has returned. The slab is hard below him; it shows the evidence of his pleasure. The water stained floors reflect back a green glow from the light filtering in. Darth Maul rises, washes in the cold waters of the pool, robes in his clothes and turns back to his ship. He has meditated with the ancients, and the power of the dark side is thick in his veins. It is time to start the hunt.