Gamma Shenanigans

You're not sure how you've gotten this far.

Here you are, on your knees before the Throne of Mandalore, between the legs of Her newest leader: a man who was raised with a violent mentality - stark in contrast to his predecessor. It's some kind of test - an appraisal of your true intentions - it has to be. There's no other way you've successfully gotten this close to him.

Your leader's bloodshot, golden eyes narrow down at you. "What is it that you think you are doing, hm?" Gloved fingers tap impatiently against the arms of the Throne as he casually leans back. He sits upon the Throne not at all in the way of his predecessor, not at all as any royal would - it's relaxed, almost blatantly so. He's different, but still strong. Intimidating. Core clenching.

Trying your hardest to not let your newfound nerves show in your features nor play in your mind that you know he could feel, you keep a straight face.

"Merely attempting to pledge my undying devotion to you, Lord Maul."

Tightening your grip on his hardening member, your hand brushing against the cool metal of where his flesh meets his legs, you poke your tongue out from between your lips - swiping it along your bottom one. You're still clear with yourself on what it is you want. It's selfish, sure, but you want a place beside Maul, at his side. You want him to use you, to trust you. The ultimate security - a safety net.

And perhaps, after some time, or maybe even after tonight, he shall make you his.

"Now, now, little one." His tone sounds as if he's displeased, like he's unamused by your little show, and your heart races. What if you've gone too far? Perhaps you've crossed a line - he could kill you. One flick of his wrist with that red blade of dark energy crackling from both ends the hilt held in his palm and you're gone; you've seen him do it before. You've seen Maul use that weapon to end lives and you're not ashamed to say that it ignites something within - something buried in the darkest depths of you.

You were there when he murdered the Duchess - his predecessor - with the other evil blade he carries with him, the one that deems him ruler of your home, black but lined with crackling white light. You watched as he used the Force to strangle her, to bring her right towards the blade. You watched as the Jedi held the dying Duchess in his guilt-ridden arms - the man Maul is still after, the man he has a personal vendetta with. You witnessed it all from the sidelines.

As one of Satine's maidens, you were close to her, to the Throne, and you wish to rekindle that relationship with the man who now sits upon it.

The Zabrak reaches for your hand, and just when you think he's going to pull you off him, to reprimand you in the most painful of ways, he simply guides your hand out with his cock still wrapped within it. You stare wide-eyed at the way your fingertips nearly touch the tip of your thumb. Lord Maul is... you've never seen anything like it - like him.

You try to shake yourself of your gawking, to look anywhere else than at his glorious cock that you've quickly concluded would positively wreck your insides after giving them a thorough rearranging, but it's hard to peel your eyes away from the crimson flesh marked with the same black patterns covering the rest of him.

"You... surprise me," he grits out with a tight jaw - discolored teeth clenched together. "Go on then, my lady," he rasps. "Show your ruler just how devoted you are to him."

His legs spreading wider, hips canting upwards and allowing your palm to stroke his patterned foreskin, revealing the bright red head, you shuffle on your knees closer. Maul is leaned all the way back upon the Throne, his hands gripping the armrests but is otherwise relaxed. The way he's looking down at you is deeply erotic - the pulse between your legs growing harder to ignore.

You've gotten this far, and you're not about to back out now.

Just as you're leaning forward to taste the leaking, red tip, his gloved fingers pinch at your chin.

"Enlighten me, my lady. What are your true intentions, hm?"

Go for it. Show him. Let him feel what you can offer. Let him have a taste of what you can do for him.

"Please, allow me to show you, my Lord."

He retracts as your lips are closing around the tip and are tightening around the frenulum - black as the color splits into several other patterns running diagonally towards the underside of his cock. One hand holds him at the base, right where the flesh ends at the metal. You'd like to know how it is possible that he still has his Zabrak genitalia yet no other flesh below the waist due to being cut in half, but that question seems to be one better left unasked.

You sink, letting your saliva guide a smooth descent. Your lips and tongue slide across each ridge of his cock until you're as far as you're able to take him - your hands still holding on to the remaining length. A low growl rumbles from above you, and for a second, you let your eyes flicker upwards. All you see is his pointed chin as his head is tilted back in what you would assume is contentment - approval. Trailing down, your eyes land on his bare chest that peers from the part in his tunic - the patterns painting his skin dancing with the rise and fall.

Fuck.

Seeing Lord Maul like this at your mercy - it's quite something.

Your eyes close as you hold him at the back of your throat, keeping him confined in the warm and wet cavern of your mouth. You feel his cock twitch after several seconds, followed by a gloved hand firmly cupping the back of your head - holding you down. Thick saliva spills from your sealed lips, dripping like syrup down your knuckles and hand. The material of his pants darkens with wetness from your drool. Not being able to help but painfully gag, you move to lift off him. He quickly removes his hand, relocating it to grasp at the armrest once again. His pupils swallow the gold in his eyes as he watches you, his lips parted into something akin to a snarl.

A ravenous snarl.

You take a few deep breaths, calming your beating heart before diving back in. Maul lets you work independently, his hands remaining fixed to their spot and body keeping still for you. From the Sundari city lights outside the giant stained glass windows of the Throne Room the two of you are slightly illuminated, allowing you to see just how drenched his cock is from your salivating mouth. Every ridge along the crimson shaft and the black markings lining them are glistening in the light. You continue to bob up and down at a steady pace, making sure to take him just as deep if not deeper as the descent previous. You're on a mission, for lack of a better term. You have a clear goal in mind - why you'd requested a private audience with him in the first place.

Maul groans lowly, his hands twitching on the rests. He wants to take control, you can sense it in the tightness of his muscles and the way his breathing is becoming more furious and uncontrolled.

"Use me, Lord Maul," you say to him after popping off - pumping his slick cock with your free hand. "I am yours. I am loyal to you and you alone; use me as you please."

He chuckles - bringing his hand to once again pinch at your chin.

"Ah, I believe I now understand," he muses with a smirk. "My lady, this is what you wish to be, hm? A pet? A woman who serves in the pleasure of others?" Biting your lip, you nod. "Of your ruler," he adds.

The velvet of his voice sends shivers of arousal to your heated core.

"For you, my Lord."

He hums - considering. His eyes lock with yours before trailing lower to where you're gripping his cock. "We will discuss this later, for there is something more pressing occurring at the moment, would you not agree?"

In wordless response, you engulf him into your wanting mouth. You remain still, waiting for Maul to take over.

And he does.

Both of his large, gloved hands find a home at your temples, squeezing your head to hold it steady as he thrusts upwards into your mouth. Each time is a rapid jab to the back of your throat; you're gagging, slobbering, and moaning as your ruler uses you, the ache between your legs becoming more intense. The noises he's making sound similar to the ones you've heard erupt from his chest when in battle or a brawl, making you wet beyond belief all the same.

Through the audible snarls and gravelly groans, Maul manages a dark chuckle.

"My pet," he grunts. "Look at you. This - this is what you wanted, and you take it so, so well."

Hands folded behind your back, you can only hum a muffled sound in response, tears welling in your eyes. They streak down your cheeks and drip onto his pants to join your drool. Air is struggling to make its way to your lungs through the narrow passage of your nostrils, but it all feels so fucking good.

Maul curses out something you've never heard before, and yanks you from his weeping cock. He doesn't appear to have finished, nothing but your own saliva fills your mouth and coats his length, but he's done. You're done.

For now.

"Stand up," he instructs - chest heaving. Wiping your mouth, you do - his gaze following your every movement. He waves his hand loosely in gesture to your clothing, and you know exactly what it is he wants. Standing tall, pliant, and patient, you await your orders.

Maul adjusts himself on the Throne - bringing his knee up towards his chest, foot resting on the seat, legs parted, cock still standing at attention. He tilts his head to the side, appraising you.

The thumping of your heart heats your ears as the fire in your gut spreads to every crevice. Maker, you want him to touch you, to fill you. You want him to do any fucking thing he wants to you.

After a prolonged several moments of silence save for the loud beat of your heart that you're almost positive he can hear, Maul delivers the orders - arm resting casually over his propped up knee, hand waving as he speaks.

"Remove your clothing. Let me see you, all of you, my lady, then we shall continue on."

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