Plo's Hoe

However, business was booming, by the look of the traffic this evening. You smiled as you stirred the speeder higher in the air. Like most mechanics in the city center, you got paid per unit. More ships coming in meant more work. Not to mention, the atmosphere around Janix was difficult to manoeuvre, especially for newcomers. Their ships would often get minor damage just from flying in, making the repair shop their first stop on the planet.

As you often did before dipping into the lower levels, you admired the skyline and neons glowing around you, the hovering skyscrapers reflecting the last lights of the day. While one half of the city prepared to retire for the evening, the other came to life. Casinos, races, fighting rings—some of them more legals than others—there was plenty enough to entertain oneself from dusk till dawn. 

Like all planets, Janix had its issues, but at least it remained mostly untouched by the Empire. You’d only heard a couple stories from nearby systems. Censorship, abuse of power, mass surveillance; nothing that sounded too appealing. Sometimes you wondered if the mid-rim planet had just escaped their notice or wasn’t deemed profitable enough. A part of you feared that this tranquility wouldn’t last, but each passing day with a sky devoid of imperial ships proved you wrong, and you were certainly not mad about that. 

The door to your modest apartment in the lower level slid shut behind you and you leaned against it with a thud, rolling your sore neck and shoulders. The job was fine and you were good at it, but it definitely took its toll on your body after a few years. A sigh escaped you as you pushed yourself off the door and walked to the small kitchenette. Perhaps you were just getting old.

There was some cold caf left on the counter, and you didn’t feel like cooking at this hour. Besides, there wasn’t much to look at in the fridge. It would have to do. As you went to pour yourself a cup, there was a movement on the other side of the room. It was minimal, but you definitely saw it in your peripheral. With the speed of someone used to handle weapons, you grabbed your blaster from under the counter and aimed it at the shadow in the corner of the room. Two bright yellow eyes were fixed on you, unmistakable. You slammed the blaster down as you flicked the light on.

He was sitting in your armchair, seemingly unphased by the fact that you had just pointed a weapon straight at him. You pinched the bridge of your nose. There went your quiet night. It was not often that the zabrak showed up on your doorstep, but when he did, it was rarely for Corellian brandy over a game of dejarik.

"Kriffing hells, Maul. You could’ve—"

"Knocked?" He interrupted in that insufferably calm voice of his. He wasn’t wrong, knocking wasn’t really his style. If you were being honest, this was one of the most acceptable entrance he’d ever made. The first time you had met him, he had quite literally flown through your window and threatened you with his lightsaber until he had deemed you trustworthy enough. 

All things considered, this wasn’t so terrible. Regardless, he expected to be reprimanded some more. Seeing it wasn’t happening, he continued on. 

"I require some assistance." You looked at him without saying a word. Truth is, there wasn’t much to say. After multiple encounters with Maul, you had come to understand just how powerful he was. Powerful enough to never have to ask for anything. What he wanted, he took, and even though he never had had to force your hand for anything, you had no doubt this rule applied to you as well. 

For a brief moment you wondered what he would do if you said no. Not that you wanted to. After your first encounter, he had always been decent with you, respectful of your time and space, thankful even, but the thought creeped into your brain anyhow. You made nothing of it, and waited for him to elaborate. 

Maul pushed himself out of the arm chair with visible effort and began to limp towards you. Electric sparks flickered from his right leg, accompanied by a faulty mechanical whine your trained ears recognised instantly. Reflexively, you pulled a chair out for him and crouched down to have a closer look. 

Maul had grown used to your presence by now, comfortable enough that you no longer needed to ask for permission to touch him. Still, there was something oddly fragile about the closeness. Not unfamiliar, but not entirely easy either. You were aware of him in a way that went beyond the task itself. 

You noticed because you were used to the opposite—a quiet, solitary life here on Janix, working alone all day on machines. It had never bothered you. And yet, you had noticed that every time Maul came back, there was this strange warmth in your gut. You found yourself waiting, hoping for his visits more often than you cared to admit. 

Because of that, you felt the proximity twice as strongly now. A part of you wondered if he felt it too. You suspected that the closeness was as novel to you as it was to him. But the progress was undeniable. You had vivid memories of how difficult it had been at the beginning: his stubbornness, the way he resisted, how he had practically refused the help he had come here to seek. Things had changed, but you couldn’t quite tell whether the line of necessity had been crossed on his end. 

Better to focus on one problem at a time.

The cybernetic legs had always seemed very high quality to you, very sturdy and heavy. But after a quick glance and feel, there was no doubt. The wires had been disconnected, if not severed, and the complex mechanism inside completely busted. Whatever hit him there had struck true and hard, harder than should be humanely possible. That, or his leg had been crushed under something big. Either way, you were gonna need some tools to fix it. 

You rose with a huff. There was something you were curious about. 

You had never tempered with his cybernetics before, but you had had the opportunity to have a good look at them. It was clear that someone operated maintenance on those on a regular basis. With material as intricate and expensive, it was not only recommended, but mandatory. His presence here more or less confirmed that Maul left the tech part in the hands of someone else. So why come to you?

"I assume you have people somewhere, people who could fix this," you said nonchalantly. A poor attempt at fishing information from him, one he didn’t fall for. 

In your defense, he never gave you much. If his recurring injuries were any indication, you imagined him to be part of a gang of some sort; stars know there were plenty operating on Janix. That or a pit fighter perhaps. You had heard of multiple events taking place clandestinely in the bowels of the city. Apparently they were quite popular in the underworld. 

Maul cleared his throat. "My people and I were…separated." Well that was a kriffing start. "Hence my presence here." He searched your eyes, uncertainty passing briefly through his own. Could it be that you truly were his last resort? 

"Can you fix it?" He asked, his voice less assertive than usual.

You nodded, "Yeah. Yes, of course, just give me a minute." He watched you disappear in an adjacent room as he pulled two extra chairs from under the kitchen table. One to extend his leg on, and one for you. He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and placed it carefully on the table.

Maul would never admit it, but he had indeed come here a little out of desperation, and frankly, he didn’t have a plan B. That Jedi master got him good, he had felt it as soon has the kick had landed. Walking all the way to your apartment had hurt, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this vulnerable. He hated it. He didn’t tolerate weakness, and that extended especially to himself. 

You came back with a little tool bag under your arm and a pocket lamp. A light smile pulled at your lips seeing how quietly and patiently he waited for you, hands in his lap. You sat down and leaned towards his leg. First you got a good feel of it, the durasteel cold in your palms. Your fingers slid along the alloy, searching for a slider or a screw. There had to be a way to get a look inside this thing. 

Sure enough, you found a panel on the inside of the upper calf, so seamless you almost missed it, and clicked it open. 

Without a word, you pressed the pocket lamp into his hand and guided it over the open panel to get a clearer view. Your physical forwardness surprised him a little, but what unsettled him the most was the lack of instinctive pull to shake you off. And when your fingers closed tighter around his wrist to adjust the beam, he let you.

The content of the panel was fairly standard; actuators, wires, and servomotors, though the materials were very high quality as you suspected. You pulled the essentials out from the bag: pliers, calibrator, screwdriver, soldering tool, and a data-probe for good measure. 

Once the probe was plugged in the output, you read the information on the small reader connected to it. From the corner of your eye, you could tell that Maul was leaning over to look at the data as well. Whether he could understand it was a mystery to you; either way, he didn’t ask.

You picked up the soldering tool and gave it a moment to warm up before getting to work. Every so often, you asked Maul to move the light closer, higher, or at a different angle. He complied silently each time, eager to assist you. You glanced up at him every now and then, only to find his attention fixed on your hands, assessing. He caught you looking a couple times, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before dropping again.

It was difficult to know what went through his mind most times. The man was a complete wall and gave nothing away. On the rare occasion you had managed to draw something out of him—if one could call it that—he had shut down just as quickly as though he regretted the lapse. It unnerved you. Not that he owed it to you, but you had saved his life, for kriff’s sake, more than once; would it really kill him to talk to you. There was no use dwelling on that right now, you focused back on the task at hand.

Some of the wires would need to be replaced entirely. Luckily for him, you had plenty lying around. The rest was straightforward enough. A few recalibrations here and there, and a little soldering to finish the job. 

Sparks flew as you sealed the connections, and a little smoke and smell of heated alloy escaped from the panel. As you got closer to the central interface, you felt Maul starting to tense up, which was curious. Before you got to ask any questions, a zapping sound emerged from the circuitry. 

Without warning, Maul’s leg spasmed between your hands and his arm snapped out to grab at something, probably to ground himself, but he only ended up knocking his lightsaber from the table. You jerked back instinctively, heart pumping, holding your tools up firmly. Your eyes flicked towards Maul, then to his leg. He let out a curse you did not understand. His hand was still half-curled where it had struck out, fingers tense, like he hadn’t fully come back from the reflex. 

Your brows shot up at the realisation. 

"You can feel that?" You exclaimed, surprised, but mostly curious. So this conveyed much more than just mechanical feedback. Fascinating indeed. Maul simply shrugged.

"Well, I suppose it must be connected to something."

"Right, right. Your nervous system," you nodded enthusiastically. "Can you feel this?" You zapped him on a random wire this time, right below the knee joint, and he flinched again, slightly less intensely. 

"Must you—" he groaned, more out of exasperation than actual pain. 

"How about this?" You cut him off, poking at his ankle now. Part of you was genuinely interested in the circuitry and technology. And another guilty part of you enjoyed seeing him react. 

You wouldn’t claim to know the man, as it were, but you had interacted with him enough times to suspect that he was the strong silent type. Even when you had cauterised a wound and offered him nothing more than spice rum to dull the pain that one time, he hadn’t said a word. And had refused the drink too. Something about staying lucid he had said. At least now you had proof there were things he could actually feel.

"I did not come here to be experimented on." There was a little fury in his voice now, one that you’d seen before and that urged you to stop playing around. 

"Which brings up a very interesting question, why do you come here?" He blinked. If he wanted to play cold shoulder with you, then that was exactly what you were going to give him. "You walk into my home uninvited, occasionally bleed out on my floor, let me patch you up and then disappear for weeks without so much as a sign of life. Rinse and repeat."

"And I appreciate that," he said through greeted teeth. 

"Oh, I’m sure you do." You sneered, not really believing a word of it. "You can lie back, I won’t poke you. Not more than I need to anyways." You added purely out of pettiness, and enjoyed the annoyance painted all over his face. 

He did relax eventually, and extended his arm to retrieve his lightsaber. The object flew directly into his waiting palm, and you watched in quiet awe just like you had the first time he’d done that in front of you. 

Once you were satisfied with your work, you clicked the panel back into place. Then, you gave the knee joint a quick inspection. In order to test it, you guided his leg in a slow circular motion. Each time you bent it to a ninety-degree angle, Maul grunted and clenched his fists tight. If he wanted you to stop, he gave no indication. 

You grabbed your calibrator and worked your magic. After a few minutes of surprisingly cooperative work—you making the adjustments, him letting you know how they felt—you finally got to the point where he couldn’t feel any pain at all. You finished the repairs in silence after that. Sound of servos twitched and adapted until the movement became smooth and natural.

"There. Should be good as new." You said with assurance as Maul kept moving his ankle in all directions. 

"So…how did that happen?" You asked tentatively, gesturing towards his leg. You were genuinely curious, but asking also felt like the right thing to do—the normal thing to do. After all, you had been spending more and more time with him, repairing his body, tending to the organic parts first and now the mechanical ones. For better or for worse, you had come to care. The frustrating part was that he didn’t. Or didn’t seem to. 

What bothered you was not that he didn’t care for you, it was that he didn’t care about himself. Sure, he payed you a good sum for good service each time but that was purely transactional; it had nothing to do with actually taking care of himself. Someone who so willingly and repeatedly placed himself in harm's way couldn’t possibly give a damn about what happened to him. Perhaps Maul found it particularly easy to be so cold and detached; you most certainly did not. 

"Did you fight a gorog or something?" You tried one last time before he would inevitably rise from that kitchen chair and disappear through your window again. His eyes were fixed on you, head lightly tilted to the side, but he said nothing still. You smiled bitterly to yourself, defeated once again.

"Right. I don’t even know why I keep bothering with questions. Might as well be talking to a faulty protocol droid."

"Why are you being difficult?" He said out of the blue, seemingly irritated as well. That struck a chord, that he would only speak to you to scold you. He had no right. 

"Difficult? I’m the difficult one?" You shot up to your feet, taking a step back and away from him. Not out of fear, but necessity. Every time you tried to get close, it came to smack you right back in the face.

"You wanna know something? Last time you came here, you lost consciousness right here on the floor. Long enough for me to consider what I should do with your body. And I didn’t kriffing know because you don’t tell me anything. You come here and place your life in my hands for reasons that—" you scoffed, "are frankly beyond my comprehension. You give me a reason to care and then act like it don’t mean shit to you." Your voice had risen significantly louder, and you could feel your heart thrumming in your chest.

"You don’t get to walk in and out of my life and then treat me as a stranger, Maul. You don’t get to do that. I have tried to give you space, I’ve tried to be patient, but every attempt just ends up with you shutting down even harder. And maybe I’m doing something wrong, but if I had even a little help from you, I—" 

You sighed, the words dying on your tongue as you realized none of them would reach him. It all felt so pointless. 

"In case you haven’t notice, I’m not good at this. I fix things, that’s what I do. Not people. And, holy fucking shit, you have a whole lot that needs fixing… and I don’t just mean physically." By then, you were out of breath, pacing the room without even realising it. Maul remained ever silent.  

So that was it then, back to square one. Screw that, and screw him, there was no use making this last any longer than necessary. Without so much as a glance in his direction, you began shoving your tools back into the bag. You zipped it up, ready to sling it over your shoulder when you heard the scrape of his chair against the floor. 

Maul stood up, very slowly, and took a step closer. You kept your gaze down, avoiding his stare. To you, there was nothing more to say. 

He hovered over you for a moment before reaching for your hand, clenched tight around the bag’s straps. His gloved fingers brushed yours, the touch gentle, urging you to let go. It was an odd feeling. Until now, you had always been the one to touch him, never the other way around. You had long assumed those hands served only violence; Maul had never given you reason to think otherwise. The unease it initially sparked quickly dissipated into one of comfort. Enough for your grip to loosen, the bag slipping from your hold. 

Was this what he was doing, comforting you? It was hard to tell with someone like him. Honestly, you had half expected him to get up and leave after your little berating. It had been positively reckless to speak to him like this, now that you thought of it; who knows how he could have reacted. You didn’t think he would go as far as hurting you, but then again, there was much you ignored about Maul. Maybe the passive reaction was a good thing in his book. He had always been very economical with his words around you, which is why what happened next surprised you. Both.

"Trust." He said as he removed his hand from yours, but remained exactly where he was. Immediately, you felt the loss of his touch and mentally slapped yourself for it. Were you so alone these days that you had come to crave the touch of a man you hardly knew. He was still standing so close, close enough that you felt his breath brushing your neck. 

Usually, it wasn’t difficult for Maul to spill a yarn when he needed to. He had grown quite good at it over the years, actually, and it had served him well in his many endeavours. After all, he had been taught by a master of deceit. At the moment, however, he found it incredibly hard to get the words out. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean them—he did, more than he cared to admit. But he was exposing himself to a degree that scared him. 

In hard times, he had only the force to turn to, meditating in silence for long hours in the dark. When that failed, he unleashed his wrath upon whatever unfortunate soul crossed his path.  And that worked. He never spoke on his concerns or fears. He acted on them. Turning to others had never been an option. Until now. 

If there was ever a time for Maul to speak plainly, this was it. You had given him the opportunity—the question was whether he was ready to take it. Truthfully, there were many things he wished to express, many feelings that needed to be addressed. More than that, you deserved honesty from him. But how to proceed? Where to even begin. His brain was nothing but a blender of pain, and quiet torture, of hatred and repression—yet beneath it all lingered a desperate need to be heard, to be understood. If even he couldn’t make sense of those thoughts, then how would they sound to you?

He had to start somewhere.

Trust. 

"That is why I come here," he continued, confidence slowly building within of him. "I feel…at ease in this place. Around you. A rare occurrence, I assure you." Your palms still lay flat on the table, your gaze fixed on them. But you were listening, that was the important part.

"It is why I have kept coming back ever since. Often times when other options were presented to me. I did not want the other options. Not after you made it clear that you were comfortable with all of this. That you weren’t afraid… of me." He paused, searching for the proper way to express what he truly wanted to say. 

"I can sense that there is more you wish to know about me. I simply—" he shook his head, hoping you would see that the frustration was aimed only at himself. Why was this so kriffing complicated?

He raised a hand hesitantly towards you, stopping just inches away, terrified at the thought of you flinching away again. When you didn’t, he let it rest fully on your shoulder, gently turning you so that you finally looked at him.

"Listen to me. The things I do… they put me in precarious situations, with dangerous people. I hurt them and they try to hurt me in return. Given the opportunity, they would no doubt come for the people who—" He stopped himself, as he always did when the confessions became too personal. "I don’t wish to involve you." 

As the words left his mouth, he heard them clearly, and practically winced. By all accounts, it sounded like a patronising cop-out, an excuse to remain avoidant. The easy way out. 

You lingered on his words, turning them over in your head, and realised just how bittersweet the truth was. He cared, the poor fool, even if he didn’t know what to do with it. And at the same time, there was this self-imposed duty to keep you at arm’s length, because his was a life of violence, with death lurking at every corner. You saw it every time he came to you, in the severity of his injuries. To take offence would make you the greater fool. 

You chose to be understanding. This was abysmal progress for Maul, and that was what mattered.

Maul both saw and felt your body relax slightly, an encouraging sign that brought some relief in him too.

"For what it’s worth… I believe you’re quite good at fixing people." He said with a hint of caution, as if trying to win you back over. 

Maul wanted you to know that he was grateful. Grateful for your care, but mostly for your patience with him.

Over the years, he had come to understand that people did not trust him, wanted nothing to do with him, unless he threatened them with death or have them work for him. Every alliance he’d ever attempted, every peace offering, had been batted away—sometimes agreed upon only  to end in betrayal.

Building this…companionship with you had taken months. It had required patience, occasional head-butting, and genuine effort from both sides. He didn’t want to lose that. 

There was a more burdensome and unsettling truth beneath all this. One Maul didn’t want to name. The way he felt when you put your hands on him, caring, mending what could be mended. To him it was so much more then simply treating his injuries. It was a true refuge from anything else he knew.

You were right. There were wounds inside him that simply would not heal. Not unless he faced them instead of trying to place them in your hands. It had been selfish of him, to ask for so much while giving so little in return. It had almost costed him this. Nearly cost him you. 

You responded to his shy compliment with an equally shy smile, and briefly covered his hand with yours. A language, you both understood.

"How’s the leg?" You asked as a way to break the palpable tension—which Maul was grateful for. 

He walked around a bit, testing his balance. He crouched down, then stood back up, relieved to find no lag or malfunction. Every movement felt like his own again. 

"It’s…good. Very good. Thank you." He looked as though he remembered something and reached for some credits in his tunic to place them on the table. With one glance, you could tell there was much more than usual.

"Maul," you said with intent. "This means more than credits to me." Your eyes held his, you truly needed him understand that. 

He exhaled longly, then mirrored your earlier smile.

"For me as well." He answered, and this was the most open he had allowed himself to be around you yet. Sometimes, he needed the reassurance too, you were starting to see that. 

Usually, this was the point where he bid you farewell and you went back to your very ordinary life. But you stood there facing each other in comfortable silence. In the span of a few minutes, you both had spoken more than you ever had during all your encounters, it had certainly knocked down a few necessary walls; some you had trouble navigating around before.

"You can stay the night if you need," you offered, suddenly remembering his predicament. If he hadn’t been able to reach out to his crew, then he probably couldn’t go back to wherever it was they stayed. "The couch’s not much to look at but it’s, um…" you scratched your head has your eyes landed on the tired old piece of furniture.

"It’s perfect," Maul finished for you. 

You brought him a light cover, just in case, and told him there were a couple of rations left in the cupboard if he was hungry. Then you bid each other goodnight—and it felt strange, and so natural all at once. Funny how things unfolded. A couple hours ago, this would’ve sounded impossible.

Maul waited until you had retreated to your bedroom before laying on the couch. He folded the cover under his head to protect the cushion from his horns, then starred at the ceiling. He had really opened up tonight, and, strangely enough, he didn’t feel weaker for it. It was a nice feeling, albeit foreign, like a weigh had been lifted from him. 

He allowed himself another smile, warm this time, and flicked the light off with a wave of his hand.

Next chapter: more hurt but also more comfort! And, yes, smut. Click here for part 2

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think, I love reading your comments!

They fucking fridged Asajj Ventress for a man. Seven whole seasons of TCW development for what?

Anyways, this was so jarring that I truly don't have anything else to say about the story. There are some parts of it I enjoyed but this is one of the things that completely ruins a book for me, even a very good one (which Dark Disciple is not.)

Thank you the Bad Batch for bringing my wife back to me because what the hell did I just read. Not sure the show decanonizes the book per say but I'm just glad she's alive.

I’m not like you. I never was. 

Grounded, that was how his kin’s voice made him feel, a reminder of what was but mostly what might’ve been. But not this time. This time, it rang like the prelude to a very somber memory. Maul sensed the vision his mind’s eye was about to conjure before it fully materialised. An inevitable tragedy, one he had seen unfold many times before. First on Mandalore, and then regularly in his slumber, like a perpetual haunting.

Savage lay in his arms, the yellow in his eyes fading into a warm ocean green. He looked like a boy, the brother Maul thought he remembered from his past. Yet the recollection was so distant that he wondered if he may have fabricated it entirely. 

Behind him rose a wretched and sickening sound: the cruel laugh of his master. Taunting and mocking him as he had so many times throughout his training. That voice, sinister and venomous, reminded him just how unworthy he was, how feeble, in body and mind. 

Remember, the first and only reality of the Sith: there can only be two. And you are no longer my apprentice. You have been replaced

That was the final humiliation. The last deliberate step by which Sidious stripped away what remained of his humanity. He was not even good enough to serve as a tool, cast aside without a second thought. But it was not simply dismissal. The monster wanted him dead. Maul had forgotten his station and overplayed his hand. Even from the shadows, his master had sensed the betrayal, the challenge implicit in Maul’s relentless pursuit of vengeance against all those who had wronged him. What a mistake it had been to try and fool a master of deceit. He would pay a hefty price for it. 

It didn’t matter how many times it had happened; each strike of his master’s lightning hurt as much as the first. Begging only made it worse. It didn’t matter what he would beg for, mercy or death, there was no difference. Of all things, Sidious despised weakness above all else, and he answered it with punishments born of such cruelty and malice that they defied comprehension. For the moment, however, Maul’s tormenter satisfied himself with basic discipline.

Have mercy. Please. Please!

After years of excruciating training, Maul had become a very powerful being. There were few things he feared, and even fewer people. But when it came to his master, none of it mattered. In those moments, he was the child he had once been on his home planet: scared, innocent and helpless. The only difference between then and now was that he did not cry anymore. He knew what happened when he cried. There was only one man who got to see him at his most vulnerable—broken, on his knees, stripped of all pretence of strength. Only one man who could instil such dread within him. But one was enough, and unfortunately for Maul, Sidious very much enjoyed it.

There is no mercy.

On the modest couch of your apartment, Maul felt the electric current course through his body ceaselessly, frying him from the inside. He felt every single burn vividly, as if the events were unfolding in real time. He was still deeply asleep, but his body reacted to the imagined assault. He wanted out. His head thrashed violently from side to side as if to shake himself awake. All the while, Sidious’s incessant cackling went on.

Living alone had many perks—namely, the ability to notice when something was off. Whether it be a suspicious sound or a misplaced object. In this case, though, you suspected that even the most oblivious person in the galaxy would have noticed. 

You nearly fell off your mattress as the first scream tore through the night. Without even bothering to turn the lights on you rolled out of bed, bare feet hitting the floor as you rushed to the living room in long strides. The large windows bathed the space in the neon glow of the commercial panels outside, casting enough light for you to see clearly.

What you saw was a man in agony. His body spasmed as if possessed, hands clawing at nothing, and his horns had pierced through the blanket you had given him earlier. You had seen nightmares before, occasionally experienced them yourself, but this was sheer terror, unlike anything you’d see before. Maul seemed to be speaking to someone, pleading or begging, but you didn’t sit around to find out. After barely dodging one of his flailing arms, you gripped his shoulders with steady hands and started shaking him hard. 

Sweat poured out of him, his teeth bared as he kept screaming. You had suspected the man carried demons—whether he was running from them or chasing them—but you had never imagined it was that bad. In addition to your vigorous movements, you started calling out his name, although you were unsure if he would actually hear you over the sound of his own voice. It took several attempts before your efforts finally paid off . 

Maul jolted awake, but before you could even catch your breath or ask him if he was okay, his hand shot out, seizing you with force. His fingers dug painfully in your collarbone, and a pained grunt escaped you, suddenly aware of just how brutally strong he was. His eyes were glowing in the darkness, piercing through you like daggers. However, it was not anger that filled them. Only fear. Whatever he had faced in his nightmare had left its mark, and Maul had not completely snapped out of it.

You wrapped both hands around his wrist and tried to pry him off. To no avail. Even half-awake, he was much stronger than you.

"Maul," you managed, your voice strained with pain. It didn’t reach him. His gaze was fixed on you without really seeing, as if in a trance.

"Maul," you tried again, more urgently. "You have to let go." Panic began to rise in your chest. If he didn’t release his grip soon, you feared he might just snap your clavicle. 

Then, something shifted.

His eyes flickered, as if he finally registered what was happening and where he was. The fear dissipated from his eyes, slowly replaced by recognition. He released you immediately. You stumbled back, clutching your collarbone where his fingers had been only moments ago. Maul instinctively went to reach for you, then seemed to think better of it. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a brief moment before curling back into a fist at his side. He doubted you wanted him anywhere near you after what just happened. 

"I’m sorry," he said quietly, a hint of shame in his voice. "I didn’t mean to." 

You were still catching your breath, a little under shock, the ache in your shoulder throbbing when you pressed against it. 

"Are you alright?" he asked with genuine concern. You nodded, and the movement made you wince. 

"I’ll be fine." It wasn’t a lie. Actually, now that you were free from his grasp, you found yourself more worried about him. "You okay?" 

Maul hesitated, then gave a short nod. Evasive, as always. You didn’t press for now, it would be a slow process for him to open up, if he ever did. 

He looked around the room. Most of the pillows had been knocked down, and the cover was ruined, torn and ripped. He grabbed it and looked at you apologetically. 

"I—"

"It’s fine, it’s just a blanket," you said honestly. "At least the couch survived." You offered a small smile to ease the palpable tension and keep him from dwelling on what he had just done. The nightmares clearly weren’t new to him. Despite how disoriented he had been upon waking, he had regained control rather quickly, all things considered. What he was troubled about was what came after, how he had hurt you. It was so easy for him to inflict pain on people, he was very gifted at that. He may even enjoy it under the right circumstances. Sometimes he wondered if he was capable of anything else. Sidious had nurtured the hatred inside him, but the violence… it might have always been there in the first place.

At this very moment, hurting was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to help you the way you so often did for him, to soothe the ache he had caused. To touch you gently, instead of violently, if you would even allow it now. The thought of frightening you bothered him deeply, especially after the trust you had slowly built between one another. He had hurt you, and even if you had waved it off, it would very much stick with him. 

The most frustrating part, though, was that despite all his powers, there was nothing he could physically do to for you right now. Of all the abilities the dark side had granted him, healing was not one of them. Ironically, he almost envied the Jedi for that. Almost.

You saw the cogs turning in his mind, he was angry with himself, that much was obvious, and there was probably very little you could say right now to make him feel better. It was wiser to give him a minute to collect himself. Besides, you needed to tend to yourself anyways.

"Don’t worry about the blanket, really. I’ll… I’ll be back." You cast one last glance at him before making your way to the bathroom. Maul remained where he was, silent and brooding, but you missed the way the hand that instinctively reached for you flexed uselessly at his side, as though mourning the feel of you there.

You let out a long breath as you leaned over the sink. Life certainly was never dull with Maul around. Without preamble you pulled your nightshirt over your head and examined your reflection in the mirror. A sizeable crimson bruise had already begun to form across your skin. You grimaced and grabbed a flask of bacta gel from the shelf. It came in handy when you injured yourself at work, which happened more often than was probably reasonable, judging by the half-empty container. You spread it thoroughly over the bruise and the tender skin around. It wouldn’t erase the mark entirely but at least it would dull the pain. 

As the gel began to take effect, you thought back on the events of the night—to the fear, the confusion, the look in Maul’s eyes when he hadn’t recognised you. There was no point sugarcoating it. For a moment, you had feared for your safety. But fear was not the feeling that had prevailed. It was concern. If anything, you wished to know how he felt. Something terrible must have happened to provoke such a violent reaction from him. If only he could help you better understand what troubled him so much that it followed him into his nightmares. You didn’t even need the details, just a little insight would do. 

The sound of Maul’s durasteel legs echoed in the corridor, growing closer and closer. He stopped somewhere behind you. You didn’t bother covering yourself, didn’t feel the need to. Instead, you looked up in mirror and found him standing in the doorway, head lightly tilted as he observed you in silence. He wasn’t staring in the crude sense, nor did he seem embarrassed by your state of undress. His eyes roamed the expanse of your back and shoulders, as if searching for additional damage he might have caused. 

Maul had always had a very practical approach towards you, which is why this situation didn’t strike him as odd. You had seen him shirtless countless times before while patching him up. Now the role were simply reversed. Still, you found that you liked being watched by him, even if his attention stemmed from curiosity rather than want. There was something strangely intimate about it.

He looked different when survival wasn’t hanging over him. Whenever you had cared for his injuries in the past, he had always maintained a stoic facade. Even when the pain broke through, he worked his hardest to appear completely unmoved. Now the harsh lines of his face had softened. You had no idea how old he was, but he certainly looked younger like this. And his golden eyes, which had looked so menacing earlier, were now so kind and caring. And they were watching you.

A little reluctantly, you cleared your throat, breaking the moment before addressing him.

"Do all Zabraks make a habit of staring at half-naked people, or is it just you?"

Maul blinked slowly. 

"I was…waiting to see if you required assistance." The sincerity of the answer pulled a genuine grin from you. His species must have had a very different perspective on nudity for him to miss what you were getting at. His brow furrowed and an almost child-like confusion passed over his face.

"Have I offended you?" There was that uncertainty again in his tone. This was more than casual conversation to him. Your relationship was still fragile, unfamiliar ground. He seemed perpetually afraid to say or do the wrong thing.

"No, Maul," you shook your head. "It’s just… you’re staring at me while I don’t have my clothes on." Better to speak plainly.

His eyes widened in realisation. Truthfully, it had never once occurred to him that the situation was strange, or even unusual. He had never thought anything of being undressed around you either.

"Right." He rubbed the back of his neck, considering your words. Before coming up with a rather interesting conclusion.

"Would it help if I removed this?" He suggested, vaguely gesturing at the top of his tunic. You genuinely couldn’t tell if he was serious or humouring you, but as your eyes met his in the reflection, you realised he was absolutely sincere. 

"You’re a strange man, you know that?" That only deepened his confusion. He felt like he was losing the hold of the conversation, somehow making everything worse. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how uniting the biggest crime syndicates in the galaxy had felt less complicated than this.  

"I can leave if you pref—" You raised a hand to stop him.

"That’s not what I said." You turned around slowly, and not a single of part of you felt uncomfortable doing so. His gaze immediately fixed on the nasty bruise, the lines of his face tightening once more. 

"I can tell that you’re settled on the belief that I’m afraid of you." That was not a question, and he didn’t deny it.

"I hurt you." He said matter-of-factly

"You didn’t intend to," you countered, and he smiled bitterly.

"It does not change the fact." 

So he wanted to be stubborn. Fine. You could work with that.

"You’re right. So, what should we do about it?" He didn’t have an answer. This was not the kind of problem-solving he was skilled at, and it was beginning to unnerve him.

"You talked about trust earlier," you said, deciding on a different approach. "Come here."

He stared at you questioningly, already considering refusal. Yet against his better judgment, he took a step forward, then another, until he stood only inches away from you. 

Progress. 

Without a word, you slowly reached for his hands and guided them upward. You waited for him to get the hint and open his palms. When he did, you placed them carefully on your shoulders, so that one of them covered the bruise. 

Maul’s entire body tensed up. He had not expected this at all—not you allowing him to touch you again so soon. Deep down, he hoped you were not forcing yourself through this, carrying the burden of reassurance for both of you. You had already showed him more kindness than he thought he had ever properly earned, let alone returned. 

"You won’t hurt me," you said with certainty. "Not if you can help it. And that’s enough for me. Because I trust you." You squeezed his wrists reassuringly before sliding your hands under the length of his arms, all the way to his chest. You placed them flat where his tunic parted, over his twin hearts. You lingered there, breathing together. 

The air in the room shifted. What started as an attempt at reassurance turned very intimate, you both felt it at the same time. Maul’s eyes drifted downward, taking in the rest of you below the neck. But this time, it was clearly not the same look as before. A pleasant sensation ran through his entire body. He may have not been particularly experienced in matters of intimacy, but it wasn’t his first day on the star system either. He recognised the feeling for what it what. 

Desire. 

Not the gentle sort. This was want. Need. Oh, yes, he was very much staring now. The way you started tracing the black ink down the column of his neck did nothing to ease the hunger building inside him.

You were deep in his personal space now, foreheads nearly touching. With quiet satisfaction, you noted the tension had finally left his body, the weight of his arms resting comfortably against you. Your gaze dropped to his mismatched lips—the upper one black, the lower one red. You leaned in closer, pulled in by the urge press your mouth against them. Maul not puling away gave you the last bit of courage you needed. 

The kiss was a bit clumsy at first, just the time for him to reciprocate and move in sync with you. He moaned appreciatively against your mouth as his hands came up to cradle the back of your head with surprising gentleness. It didn’t take long for his tongue to come pushing insistently between your lips, and you gladly let him in. On your end, your fingers had slipped beneath the soft fabric of his tabard, exploring the smooth skin of his chest. You found that he was already running hot beneath your touch. Maul pressed you flush against him, his teeth grazing the side of your neck, alternating with slow licks and kisses. 

By the time you broke apart, both of you were breathless—and nowhere near satisfied. Maul needed no encouragement when you led him silently to the bedroom. He was already stripping off his gloves and gauntlets as he crossed the threshold, letting them drop to the floor. Next he undid the magnetic clasps of his large utility belt and sash. Once they came off, the rest of the layered tunic parted naturally, and he slid it down his muscular arms. You reacquainted yourself with the familiar scars on his chest and stomach. Some you recognised as wounds you had personally treated, others older, though there were so many that you couldn’t tell them all apart.

Maul watched you watch him with hungry eyes. But he was nothing if not disciplined, and waited for you to decide what came next. You made quick work of your night pants and stepped out of them, now completely bare. His gaze darkened instantly.

You claimed his mouth again and savoured the feel of his now bare hands on your skin. One of them wandered across your chest, rough fingertips brushing your nipple in slow circles making you gasp in his mouth. He squeezed your ass and pressed his hips against you firmly enough for you to feel something hard against your front. You held him at the waist, tracing the surgical scar where flesh ended, then lower still over the matte durasteel already visible over the hem of his pants. 

"May I?" you asked between heated, open-mouthed kisses.

"Please," he breathed against your lips, the word rough with need. "Touch me." 

The trousers came off and Maul kicked them unceremoniously towards the pile of clothes on the floor. Then waited.

You paused for a moment, openly observing—admiring—what had just been revealed to you. As expected, everything below was a blend of durasteel and carbon-weave plating, bordering on artistry. And between his legs lay a cybernetic cock, unmistakably machine yet sculpted to mimic the appendage of an organic body. The durasteel was seamlessly merged into red synth-flesh and threaded through with faint bioluminescent crimson veins along its length. You tried not to stare too long, but it was difficult not to. From a mechanic’s perspective alone, the craftsmanship was exquisite.

When you wrapped your fingers around it, you found that it was warmed to body temperature, likely through internal coils. You shook your head, that was enough cataloguing. Instead you focused on Maul. His jaw hung open in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut, confirming that his prosthetic was very much functional and sensitive. 

He obediently let himself be pushed onto the bed, and grabbed your hips as you straddled him. You moaned in unison as you started rubbing your slickness against him, the friction deliciously novel. Maul surged upward to hold you closer as the heat started to build up.

"Please," he panted in your ear as he rolled his hips desperately against you, trembling with restraint. "Let me in. Let me make you feel good."

You didn’t need to be told twice. You aligned him to your entrance and sunk down slowly until he was fully buried inside. You started riding him at a slow pace, feeling every inch. Instinctively, your hand slid up the back of his head, your fingers spreading carefully between his sharp horns to hold him close. Maul buried his face in your neck, breathing hard against your skin as he thrust up to meet you. 

You kept this rhythm going for a while, enjoying the deep and intimate drag, before seeking more intensity. None too gently, you shoved him back against the mattress, and pinned his wrists above his head. Part of you was curious to see if he would resist, but Maul was surprisingly pliant. He had no issues letting you take control; as a matter of fact, he would have let you do just about anything to him right now. 

This time you quickened the pace, chasing you own pleasure, though you couldn’t ignore the rough edges of his cybernetic hips and thighs digging into your soft skin. Maul watched you with fascination, his yellow eyes reflecting the neon lights that danced over your skin as your body moved on top of him. His head eventually fell back in pure bliss at the new angle. He was, you realized, impossibly beautiful like this. Neck corded, veins standing out as strained whimpers spilled from his lips. 

You cursed as you thighs began to get sore from the constant friction against durasteel. Observant as always, Maul noticed immediately. In one smooth motion, he flipped you over as if you weighed nothing, handling you with gentleness still. 

"Let me," he murmured, voice low and rough. He guided your legs further apart. "That’s it… just like that."

He slid back inside you from behind. Slow at first, watching the way you stretched perfectly around his cock, completely transfixed. After a few measured thrusts, you begged for more, and Maul obliged. He pulled you back flush against his chest and fucked you like this, with one strong arm wrapped securely around your midsection, his other hand reaching between your legs. It didn’t take long for you to come apart in his hands, clenching hard around him. Not long after, your felt his cybernetic cock pulse inside you, the internal circuits growing even hotter than before.

Maul caught you before you could collapse on the bed, easing you down with him so your head rested on his chest. You both lay there catching your breath. Beneath your ear, you could perceived the twin rhythm of his hearts beating fast.

"How was that for a show of trust?" you asked, nuzzling into his neck. You felt the vibration of his chuckle.

"Quite convincing," he replied as he kissed the top of your head. "Thank you."

You tilted your head up to look at him. "You know that’s not the only reason I slept with you, right? I wanted this," you needed him to hear it. "I wanted you." 

He nodded immediately, his fingers tracing slow patterns along your spine. "I know. I know, I simply…" he paused, searching for the right words. "I’m aware I can be… difficult. Thank you for seeing past that. For trying. Not many do." You squeezed his hand and pressed it to your lips.

The two of you talked more afterwards, the conversation circling back to his earlier concerns about involving you too deeply in his dangerous life. You were both reasonable enough to understand the reality of things. Whatever existed between you was not going to be some everlasting romance, and neither of you needed to pretend otherwise. Still, Maul knew there were pieces of himself he couldn’t keep from you. It would take time, but one day, he promised, he would tell you more about the nightmares, about his life. About the man who had taught him everything and successively taken everything away from him. 

But for now, he would enjoy the warmth of your body against his, counting the steady rise and fall of your chest as you drifted off in his arms. And tomorrow, he thought with a small private smile… well, tomorrow, perhaps he would stick around, maybe even brew you a cup of Cassius tea. The idea sounded almost absurdly domestic, and it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Well, there you go, hope you enjoyed this little story! Thank you so much for reading; as always, don't hesitate to let me know what you think :)

(And thank you for all the love you guys showed for part 1, it was truly unexpected <3)

Banner by @carnally-mauls !!

That being said, we're talking about sci-fi here, it's the perfect opportunity to dig in your imagination, to come up with whatever you want because there's no canon (as far as I know?) that tells us what Maul's got going on down there.

If you do choose to give him a cock, go all in, this is Star Wars for kriff's sake! A universe where highly advanced prosthetics and synth flesh are quite normal. I say have fun with that. Create what you want to see, describe how it works. As a reader I LOVE when writers take liberties with what the original content provides, and come up with their own interpretation on things (from the intricacies of the Force to cyber cocks!)

Then there's the dickless route. I think there's something very interesting about writing smut without the traditional penetrating/receiving blueprint. It's an opportunity to focus on touch, feelings, emotional connection. There's plenty of pleasure that comes from that. It's intense and personal. Usually, it makes for very original smut.

We know Maul is very good with his hands, and I have no doubt that this mouth of his is skilled at much more than just talking.