Lashing down on his rage, setting aside judgment for a moment, Maul leaves his pot and box on the shore, and returns to the water to seek the jedi through the force. He swims fast and true for less than a minute, left and right and around…

The dragonfish sith breeches the pocket of his own bedroom cave, and rises up in a quiet rush of shedding water. Kenobi is here? Here? He went wandering, but not to his lightsaber or the surface, but here?

Maul sways his way through the caves and comes up on his own bed. There the jedi lies, buried under makeshift blankets, curled in on himself, shivering.

The sith looks around in disbelief. There on the shelf of his nightstand is his saberstaff, he leans close sniffing… not a trace of skin scent on it. Kenobi had not come looking for a weapon to kill him with then.

The last embers of his rage dowse themselves as he returns his attention to the cold little ball of stewjon.

“Jjjedi,” he whispers thoughtfully, running his claws through salt-crisp hair. “Always leaving behind the heat you need, awake or asleep. What a pathetic thing you are.”

Maul withdraws, considering the situation. Either Kenobi needed to be brought to heat, or heat needed to be brought to Kenobi. He ponders it briefly, but easily decides that he likes the jedi to be in his bed.

He goes, gathers the magma ball from the second prison cave, and returns. It is cooled somewhat, so he slices it in half with his saber like an orange, revealing the cherry red center. The freshly unmasked lava blooms with heat, rapidly forming a new black crushed shell on its surface.

Maul situates one of the halves just so, pointing it's radiant heat toward the bed. Then, he climbs in, finding his way under covers to drag his Kenobi to him. He discovers bare skin, offering him easy access to touch new places. The variety of textures is fascinating.

Predictably, when faced with heat and weight and a living body, the jedi seeks him out like a plant turning to the sun. Limbs unclench and the ball of him eases open. Arms come winding around his back, and a scruffy face presses to his shoulder.

Kenobi sighs with contentment at his presence, and Maul feels… he feels…

The words for this. These too are missing from his memory of before. Or perhaps he never had them.

Darth Maul draws his prisoner close, and waits for him to wake. The other man’s force signature brightens at one point, perhaps touching consciousness, but he drifts back down again without a word.

It is hours before the jedi truly stirs, groaning at the back of his throat as he peers blearily around.

“Kenobi,” Maul says, catching the man's chin in his fingers and drawing that watery gaze toward him.

The jedi blinks a few times, focus slow to resolve. “Where am I?” he asks.

He hums, fingers playing through that ginger beard. Soft. So soft. “Where you are meant to be.”

With a muddled huff, Kenobi turns to look around, not satisfied with his answer. “I remember getting bored and going exploring, and then I found a cave with… things. Art and trinkets… was I dreaming?”

“Mmno,” the sith denies, “you have found my cave, and put yourself in my bed. This is... good.”

The jedi scrubs a hand over his face, and back through his hair. Maul runs a hand down his bare side, then back up again.

“Sorry. I'm… not really parsing anything,” Kenobi replies.

Maul scoffs, “Because you left the heat, again. You are too weak to survive the cold. I have scolded you before but you did not listen. Hear me now: I forbid you from leaving warm places again unless I am there to watch you.”

Kenobi sloughs back down, loose limbed in his hold. “...”

“Jedi,” he says warningly at the silence, leaning in toward the other man's face. “Obey me.”

That tired, watery blue gaze lifts to his. “Mmnnn?”

So unfocused. So soft and pliant. Irresistible.

Maul’s eyes are drawn to chapped pink lips where the lower one is loose and slightly parted from the top. He doesn't question the stray desire to taste the cracked texture of it. The sith presses close, licking those lips, slipping his tongue inside a slack mouth.

“Ah,” Kenobi says softly, letting him take what he wants. His smooth tongue slides against Maul's, reactive to the languid stroking of his.

The dragonfish sith runs his claws gently down the back of his prisoner, careful not to cut unintentionally, until back becomes backside. He cups the handful of curve, squeezes and pulls, drawing their hips closer together.

The jedi turns his head away, hiding in Maul's neck. “Please, I don't…”

“Hnn?” he asks, enthralled with the way Kenobi’s soft belly and scattering of body hair felt against his own smooth stomach.

“Just hold me and let me sleep. I just want to rest,” the man pleads softly.

He tsks, “If you would stay where I put you, your strength would not wane.”

Kenobi sighs gustily, relaxing when Maul's hand returns to petting the pale flesh of him higher up. Straying places that are personal, but not quite so personal. The jedi comes back out of hiding when the trend continues. His eyes look like they struggle to stay open.

“I have gifts for you,” Maul tells him, “To earn your favor.”

“It isn't something that can or should be earned with material things,” Kenobi mumbles.

“Jedi drivel,” he counters. “Nice and necessary things are a fair measure of who to show favor to.”

Unable to help himself, the sith's claw skim just a little lower, teasing the sensitive line of skin between the other man's low back and ass. Kenobi groans, and his hips rock.

“Nng,” the pale man says simply, brows drawing faintly upward in pleasure.

Maul kisses him again, far more gently than he deserves, then settles down. “Sleep, Kenobi. Regain your strength. When you wake I will show you your gifts.”

For once, the witless jedi does as he's told.

To be continued...

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He dreams of master Qui-Gon. Nothing specific, just fragments of taking a walk. The world they're on shifts, from Stewjon to Nar Shaddaa to Naboo. They don't talk much, but it's very comfortable.

He thinks of Anakin. The young man is panicking about something again, always so passionate, asking him over and over where he was. Obi-Wan tries to tell his padawan that he's quite fine, but the boy won't listen. Oh, Anakin. He never does listen.

Hmm… why is it so cold?

He dreams of the room of a thousand fountains, of dozing beside the waterfall. At some point, that becomes going for a swim in the pools. He slips into the water, and discovers that Kit is down there, meditating. Obi-Wan doesn't want to interrupt! So he swims slowly around the outside. After some number of laps, his nautolan friend awakens from his meditation, and waves to him. Obi-Wan waves back, and they go for a swim together through the tunnels beneath the fountains, built especially for the waterborn species of jedi. Their version of a walking trail.

Between one tunnel and the next, he loses track of Kit, and the lights start to dim. Dimmer and dimmer and dimmer… He can't seem to be truly afraid for some reason, but he does feel mild concern. He'll be lost down here forever without some kind of light.

Something swims past him, too fast to see in the growing darkness. A splash of green, and it's gone.

Oh! There he is.

Obi-Wan swims that way, trying to find him. He almost catches the other man as he swims by again. Almost, almost, almost… drat! He wishes Kit would stop swimming by him so bloody fast. The next time he feels the drag of scales under his palm, Obi-Wan throws himself toward them, and latches on.

Ha! Got him!

Quite pleased with himself, the jedi master wraps his legs around the other man, and uses his fingers to write in sign language on Kit’s pecs, chastising him for playing games in the dark. The nautolan’s chest moves like he's laughing, and arms wrap around Obi-Wan's back. He huffs, smacking the man for laughing at him. Kit nips at his chin in return.

Oh so that's how it is?

Obi-Wan bites back. Then Kit repays it. He returns fire yet again, and finds the hips under his rolling toward him. Cool, clawed hands run up and down his back.

Distantly, he wonders how he's breathing, with no rebreather in his mouth, but the thought fades softly away. Even underwater this is so nice. Being held is such a rarity for him, but oh it's so…

Those cool hands move lower, tracing the curve of his ass, and he feels his interest stirring even more. These were public tunnels though… they shouldn't tempt fate by-

Hips roll into his, harder, more insistent, and Obi-Wan groans. Kit wanted to…? Here? Oh he was ridiculous… but the nautolan would surely hear anyone coming long before they came...

Obi-Wan kisses his way down slick skin, pushing lower, lower, trying to find the bulge between the other man's legs by feel alone, to rub against it. He finds not a bulge but a full length, already free from cloth. Strangely much lower than expected…

… larger than expected too.

Hips rock into his, and he can't help but meet them, spreading his legs, lifting his knees. Oh, it's been so long…

Obi-Wan finds this strange angle puts his face right at eye level with Kit’s fantastic chest. He palms both pecs, kneading, then dips his head to run his tongue over one pert nipple. The body underneath him thrashes, making him smile muzzily. It must have been quite the dry spell for Kit, too. He turns to the other half of his chest, applying teeth and tongue to the sensitive peak.

Claws dig into his shoulders. He takes that as encouragement. Strange… where did the water go? The body beneath him rocks up against his, but their buoyancy is gone.

There's no water, there's only air.

There's no temple, no tunnels, only stone and-

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open, only half conscious, and finds himself straddling a dragonfish man. Maul is looking up at him with wide eyes, chest heaving and gills fluttering with his panting breaths.

The jedi blinks half a dozen times, but the image doesn't resolve itself into something that makes any more sense than before. Maul has been on land long enough that his skin is dry, save for a sheen of wetness on both nipples.

The sith’s tongue makes a lap of his own lower lip, then he swallows. “Kenobi…”

Oh ye gods.

Obi-Wan rolls off of him immediately, “I apologize!” he yelps, skittering away until his back hits a wall.

Their eyes meet, luminous green to watery blue. The sith’s gaze dips, landing on the bulge in his pants. Obi-Wan shoves it downward and crosses his legs over top of it. Maul’s head tilts, like he's identifying when Obi-Wan has done that before. Oh kriff.

The jedi clears his throat. “That was completely inappropriate, I do apologize. I'm not sure what happened, I was having… ah, pleasant dreams, and then… did you come near me in the night?”

Maul writhes gracefully, his tail coming up under him as he rises and sways closer. “I did. You had rolled away from your lava, so I put you back and pinned you down.”

Obi-Wan shuffles awkwardly sideways, trying to keep his distance, desperately trying not to look-

“Thank you for your consideration then, so sorry for the trouble. Shall we go back to bed? Separately! I mean. You… over there. Me, over here.”

The other man continues to sway closer, a rhythmical shifting of his tail from left to right and back again that propels him forward. His blue-black cock sways with the motion of his hips, hypnotic like a metronome. A red line runs along the underside, with tiny red dots going halfway up either side. The tip is pointed, and there's these little-

Obi-Wan wheezes, and scrambles the other direction until he is backed up against the water line. “Maul,” he starts, not sure what to say to make the other man stop looking at him like that.

Oh force, the sith lord looks like he wants, and is determined to get what he wants. Obi-Wan just needs to spread his legs and invite him to-

As a jedi master, he must rise to the occasion, despite great personal cost. “Maul,” he says again, “I just want you to know…”

“Yessss?” the man croons, eyes half lidded as he approaches.

“That this is not an escape attempt, I am merely in dire need of a bath. Immediately.”

With that, he tosses himself into the ice cold water, for the absolute worst blue balling he has ever experienced.

To be continued...

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Well then. If that's how it's going to be.

Obi-Wan leaps at the creature, force fueled and bloody determined, with his fist aimed for that sharp jaw of his. The jedi's punch connects, speed and desperation lending it strength. The impact throws Maul back and away.

The sith screams, enraged, and coils in on himself before returning the spring attack with interest. Obi-Wan is dodging, rolling, trying to score another hit-

-and then he is hitting a wall, ears ringing, falling to the floor, sight spinning.

Clawed hands grab the lapel of his tunics, drawing him up and in until he is suspended before the dragonfish sith. Obi-Wan hangs there, blood dripping down the side of his face.

"Ohhhh, Kenobi," Maul hisses, "You provoke me. Yessss. To meet your end sooner rather than later, to escape my revenge."

Obi-Wan reaches up to grab the man's forearms, feet kicking as he tries to gain purchase on the slick black scales that have replaced his thighs. "Suicidal? I think not. I cut you in half once, Darth, and I'll find a way to do it again."

There's that horrible, sizzling laughter again.

A long black tongue slides from Maul's mouth, laving up the side of his face, smearing the blood. "I would like to see you try, jedi scum. Your blade is gone, your breathing tool is gone, and now you are powerless before me!"

Obi-Wan responds by kicking him in the face.

The cold grip on his tunic releases, and he drops like a tooka to land on his feet. The jedi braces, winding up another left hook-

A tail lashes at his head, wacks him, and even with strong assistance in the force he goes stumbling aside. That lithe, muscular tail whips toward him again from the other direction, and he takes it to the shoulder. The wall catches his fall. He impacts it with a slap of wet cloth and a sound of pain as his ribs creak.

Next thing Obi-Wan knows, there's a hand wound into his hair, wrenching his head back, and he's spread limbed chest-first against the stone. The sith is glued to his back, long tail separating Obi-Wan's legs, curling about and trapping them in place. He shoves backward against that heavy weight, force assisted, but it doesn't gain him enough space to act.

He reaches back to elbow the sith in the face, but he is caught, the limb pinned under the other man's arm where it's got his head. Obi-Wan's other arm is snatched as well, pinned at the wrist, leaving him with so very little range of motion.

He wrenches against the hold again, and again, but Maul has him well and truly helpless.

"Let me go!" he demands, but the sith only pulls on his hair, exposing the jedi's throat to the possibility of those jagged fangs.

"Mmno," the creature says, gleeful. "This is your tomb, Kenobi. However long I decide to make you suffer, this is where you will die."

He struggles anyway, through pain and the nausea of a mild concussion, through fear and mounting exhaustion. He fights, he fights, but it is not enough.

Heavy coils of dragonfish press to his back, sliding past in a slow and rhythmic writhe. The sith giggles, as if delighted with his new toy.

Eventually it isn't worth the energy to keep trying. Obi-Wan goes limp into the hold, panting and cold.

Chapter 1:

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Kenobi had talked for hours with him, of stewjoni and zabrak, of favorite foods and weather patterns, about all variety of things lost to him from the world above. Words and ideas refreshed themselves as conversation flowed, and Maul felt… he felt… like he was being restored in some subtle, expansive way.

They did not speak of sith and jedi things, but, perhaps another time. Oh yes, they had so much time, now. They had forever.

He was pleased with himself for keeping the jedi, for belaying final vengeance. Kenobi had taken Maul's destiny away. Was it not poetic that he was now owner of the other man's?

Yes, yes it was.

Smiling with his many excellent teeth, the dragonfish sith finds his way out from the caves and out into open water. From there, he swims further from the coast, away from fruit trees and civilization, and into the craigs of a grand trench.

Deep in the winding rocks, was the source of the glowing moss he had collected and replanted to create the dim but functional lighting of his home. Harvesting more was dull, repetitive work. Perfect for keeping his hands busy so his mind could think.

And oh, he has so very many thoughts. So many ideas.

Maul loses hours stewing in his own head, hunting down and bundling up square after square of bioluminescent mossy sod for transplant.

The sith's preoccupation is, without a doubt, why his hand closes around a pufferfish to get it out of the way of where he's working.

It panics and balloons outward, spikes pricking his skin. Then the stupid thing bites him.

He snarls, backhanding the aggravating thing away so hard it disappears into the gloom.

Maul shakes his hand out, annoyed by the stinging, and returns to gathering. The moss grows in disparate small clumps. He swims from one to the next, hunting them by the light they produce. Some are easily uprooted, others are entrenched and not worth the effort.

The dragonfish sith sees another such batch of radiance off through the craigs, and heads for it, his previous findings tucked under one arm.

He runs into a wall.

“Mmngg?” Maul grunts, recoiling from the surprise. Bubbles escape his mouth at the vocalization.

They're so… pretty.

The silvery orbs wibble and wobble, shimmering as they rise upward.

Why are they leaving?

…he did not give them permission to leave!

Maul swims upward, trying to catch the bubbles. His snatching grab only breaks them up into smaller bubbles, like fizz. The world narrows down to him, his hand, and the disobedient silver balls.

What follows is a slippery, slidey, unfocused stretch of time where Maul rediscovers bubble physics anew. At length. Gleefully. He notices, somewhere in there, that his lips and fingers tingle. His throat feels warm. Then, he realizes his moss is missing.

The dragonfish sith swims in a circle, spiraling until he spots a lumpy glow down below. He had dropped them! Maul swims that way like a drunk whale, getting closer, and closer, and the glow is getting so big, and closer, and-

He mashes his face into the plush mound of light. Who knew light was so fluffy? Slick and floof and good.

Yes, moss is very very good. So Good.

It glows!

Maul gathers up all of his new favorite thing into a ball, and holds it to his chest as he turns for home. At some point he loses track of where he is or where he's going, then finds it, then loses it again. He ends up back at the warren of his caves, enters, and then gets lost in them too.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the dragonfish sith finds a Kenobi.

KenobiKenobiKenobiKenobi.

Swimming is very hard, but land-swimming is even harder. He persists, because he must show the Kenobi his MOSS.

The jedi looks up at him, waking from a doze beside the magma ball. Maul gurgles gleefully, and dumps the pile of luminous fuzz on him.

“Moss!” he declares, then also drops himself on the pile as well.

“What in th- oof! Ff, Mhh-” the jedi flails underneath it all, “Maul!”

It takes him a minute to remember how his mouth works. He forgets for a moment there, but that is understandable. He has forgotten many things.

“Mmmmmmossss!” Maul howls when he figures it out, then rubs his face on the slick fluff.

“Have you lost your mind?” Kenobi accuses, unburying himself and getting some distance.

The jedi does not understand, and that is terrible. He must understand! Who else will understand? No one!

Maul picks up a very nice hunk of moss, and puts it on Kenobi’s head. “This is the best thing,” he tells the man firmly, “It is good.”

The jedi’s brows furrow, his arms crossing. “The… moss?”

“Yessss,” Maul hisses, picking up another chunk to stack on his own head. It catches on his horns, and trails over his ear fins. Now he glows too!

“... are you…” Kenobi starts, then stops, squinting at him.

Maul falls over into the remaining pile of aquatic fluff, arm spread wide, and rolls in it.

“... are you high?” the jedi asks incredulously.

Maul thinks about this very seriously, before replying. “We are below sea level, so no.”

The other man takes the moss off his head with a grimace, drops it into the pile, and crosses his arms. “You know that's not what I meant. Have you taken something… recreational?”

He doesn't know that word. “Reee, reeecreee, reehhhkrre…” Maul gathers up a ball of moss, and throws it in the air. It smacks wetly into the ceiling before falling back down. He giggles.

“Force. You did.”

“No you did!” Maul replies, not sure what they are talking about, but happy to be talking. He also just liked being right.

Kenobi kneels down to his level, and sets hands on either shoulder. “I won't ask how you got it, but… what did you even take?”

The dragonfish sith leans in, grinning, tail curling around the jedi's knees. Then he whisper-shouts, “I took a Kenobi!” and snatches the man up.

His jedi sputters, flailing, yelling his name and trying to escape, but oh no, nooooo. There shall be no escape for the Kenobi.

Maul pins him on the carpet of luminous mass. “Hnnnnn~ I am keeping you. You are clever and interesting and good. You are good and moss is good and this is perfect. You talk! Yessss. You are so good.”

Kenobi's eyes widen, his face changing colors again, from cream to splotchy red. Maul runs his claws over the swathe of it, fascinated. As he does, the crimson strain spreads.

"It changes..." he gushes.

With a groan the jedi eventually gives up struggling, his bipedal frame no match for the strength that Maul had stolen from the tides.

“Ye gods,” Kenobi says to the ceiling, limp in his coils.

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“Huu- hu-... rtss…” he manages, vision going dark near the edges.

Without warning, it lifts.

Suddenly the pain is more than halved, something like a four of ten, rather than a nine. More than enough relief for him to finally gasp, dragging in fresh air like it was all he could ever ask for.

It takes Obi-Wan a moment to reorient himself, after the suddenness of it all. He had gone from a light doze, to waking up under attack, to fighting for his life, to being in incandescent pain, and then relieved of it. All within a span measured in minutes.

When he's refocused enough to get outside of his own head, the jedi master discovers he's half on top of the bloody -literally and figuratively- sith. He cries out, feeling scales under his hands as he throws himself away-

The pain returns like a lightning strike, like an electro-whip across his shoulders. It's so sudden and intense that Obi-Wan can't help but scream, losing all his air and finding himself unable to get it back. He hits the floor, hard, but past that he can't make sense of the world.

It hurts it hurts it hurts-

It lessens.

Obi-Wan drags in lungfuls of air, shaking in place as he tries to just be.

“Witless jedi! Be still,” Maul hisses at him.

He does, but only because he can do nothing else. Minutes turn over, and Obi-Wan regathers himself again. He is still in pain, significant pain, but not enough to blind him. The left side of his chest… hurts.

‘That is a very bad sign,’ the jedi thinks wearily to himself.

When he can see straight once more, Obi-Wan dares to assess where he is and what's happening before moving this time. The results are just as uncomfortable. Actually, no, they're worse. Where he had last been laid over the sith's scaled lap, now he was up against a muscular chest, that long tail fin running between his legs.

The jedi thanks the force, twice, that he hadn't decided to put his legging out to dry as well as his tunics.

“What-” he tries to speak, coughing before he can continue, “What's happening to me?”

The creature's touch… had done something to him.

Obi-Wan suddenly realizes that Maul, that Darth kriffing Maul, is cuddling him. One hand holds the back of his neck, pinning the jedi to his breast. The other clawed hand is… petting him, is the only way Obi-Wan can describe it. Gently, rhythmically, petting him.

He legitimately wonders if he's hallucinating.

“The gorogoro is venomous, and it stung no small section of your pathetically delicate flesh,” the sith underneath him explains scornfully.

“It… hurts. It hurt more before but…” Obi-Wan trails off, thinking sluggish, “... you're doing something?”

Maul makes a disgruntled noise. “If by something you mean reinacting an ancient sith rite of pain sharing to keep you alive? Then yes.”

The jedi makes three different faces trying to acclimate to that reality. “I'm. We're. What.”

"Connected. Sharing."

Obi-Wan fails to produce words, and has to breathe for a moment and just, parse everything. Then, he tries again, “That octopus stung me… with it's suckers…”

“Yes,” Maul confirms, “the pain is meant to make you seize, unable to breathe, then you die.”

“... kark,” he decides quietly. The sith scoffs, his claws slowly gliding back and forth across Obi-Wan's upper back.

Oh. He can feel it now. Where the sith's hand passes, the pain… much of it lifts from him. But where does it go? Wait…

“You said, this is a pain sharing ritual?” He asks to clarify, immediately feeling stupid. Maul had already said so, twice, and yet it answered very little.

“Ahhh,” the other man confirms, “Sharing of pain is sacred. Surviving pain makes you stronger. Passion overcomes weakness, proof that peace is a lie.”

Maul speaks like a true believer. Obi-Wan just thinks that all sounds like cultish hogwash, but sure. Not dying of indescribable pain is… good.

"And... you're not effected by the sting?"

"Mmno, zabrak are resistant to most toxins," he replies.

Obi-Wan glances at his ear-fins pointedly. "You're not exactly a zabrak anymore..."

Maul chuckles, and it's half way to being a threat. "I am half of one, as yet. I wonder who I have to blame for that."

The sith is, of course, complicit enough in his own choices to be equally, if not more, responsible for the results.

... but that isn't a fight he wants to pick right now. “You're feeling the pain you're lifting from me?”

“Mnnnn,” Maul hums, and oh, ye gods, he does not sound unhappy about it.

“You're enjoying this!” Obi-Wan accuses him.

The sith laughs like wind whistling through rusty pipes. “Yesssss.”

The jedi closes his eyes and just… checks out for a moment. Now he knows what that bulge underneath him is. He's not going to look at it, he's not going to think about it-

Wait, if Maul is half fish now, does that mean he has a-

No. no.

He is not going to think about it, he is going to focus, and- and-

Step one is figuring out if he absolutely needs to be draped over the other man in order to have his pain lessened. Yes, he's going to ignore what's happening in favor of being… clinical.

“Is this much contact really necessary for the… rite?”

“Hmmm?” the sith asks, like he's half high on the pain, no meds required.

Obi-Wan tries again, asking what he really wants to know more directly. “Can I be on the floor while you do this?”

“Mnh,” Maul replies, “I suppose.”

The dragonfish sith rolls them over, and it is ridiculous how graceful he is about it. Obi-Wan's left leg is nudged up and over, then he is rolled face first onto the cold ground.

Loops of tail coil over him, pinning his legs to the ground. Forearms brace on his midback, and a suspicious bulge nestles between his thighs. Obi-Wan draws his arms forward, and hides his face in them. This is... not even slightly better. Worse, actually.

“Is it completely necessary for you to be laying on me while we do this?” he spits.

Fingers slide into Obi-Wan's hair, grabbing it and wrenching his head back.

“Ungrateful!” the sith hisses, “Every word out of your filthy mouth should be gratitude that I would share such a gift with you.”

This is a horrible time for Obi-Wan to be reminded that he has a hair pulling… thing.

“S-sorry, sorry. My. My apologies,” he gasps.

The tension on his scalp is released, and the jedi buries his head in his arms again, just about coming up on being too emotionally overwhelmed to be sensible. The sith leans over him, covering him, claws still gliding over the slowly bruising sucker marks.

“Thank me for sharing your pain, Kenobi,” Maul whispers in his ear, threatening.

He just… doesn't have it in him to snark back like he wants to, and deal with the repercussions, not right now. “...Thank you.”

“Good,” the sith croons, and-

Surprisingly, the weight on his legs rolls away. Maul lays on his side next to him, petting his back slow and steady.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says again, softer.

“Mnnn.”

“... how long will this last?” he asks, subdued.

“... I do not know. I have never seen anything survive it.”

Obi-Wan emerges from the shelter of his arms to give the sith a horrified look.

Luminous yellow-green eyes meet his gaze, and the man snorts. “Most things stung die in minutes Kenobi. There is no reason for it to be long lasting, and even if it goes much longer, you will be fine. I will endure with you.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Say it back to me,” the dragonfish sith demands airily.

“... say what back to you?” he prevaricates.

Maul gives him a look.

Obi-Wan sighs, really not interested in actually engaging in a creepy sith ritual, but, well, the man was active life support at the moment, and doing it the hard way.

Er… the… the… something besides hard. Not the figurative hard way at all, actually, the other man was clearly enjoying it enough that he…

Obi-Wan is not going to look.

The jedi masters his curiosity by gluing his chin to the forearm beneath it. “I will endure with you?” he tries, uncertain.

The sith makes a pleased hum. Then, he whispers, “So attractive…”

Alarmed, Obi-Wan side eyes the sith, “Excuse me?”

Maul is leaning in, inspecting the circular bruising that stripes his back in the same way a jeweler would appraise a new shipment of precious stones.

“Your skin purples, and- and yellows…” The sith inhales, enraptured, “it is lovely. Like a painting of the damage.”

“Er… thank… you?” What the kriff is he supposed to say to that?

Maul lays his cheek down on the bruising he so favors, and the pain in that area fades to basically nothing. They both sigh in response, for very different reasons.

Hours pass like this, with sporadic conversation and pain sharing. By the two hour mark, Obi-Wan feels fine. A bit hungry. In want of a softer place to lay, as well, but fine enough. He begins to suspect that after a certain point, Maul started taking all of the pain. The jedi isn't going to complain about it though.

He does fall asleep, however, lulled to rest by the radiant heat of the lava orb, and gentle claws that stroke his back, even still.

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Another thing is that he mumbles in his sleep, talking to various people. Someone named Ahnahkin needs to clean his room. Someone named Qwin needs to go away. Various others are complained at or dismayed over. This is the first glimpse, however removed, that Maul has heard or seen of the outside world in years. With the gungan fleeing from him on site -as is right and proper- he has simply not had opportunity.

The dragonfish sith takes note of every name and mumbled secret. He puts together stories, hungry for mental stimulation.

The third thing he learns while watching Kenobi is that he can stay unconscious for a very long time. A. Very. Long. Time. Maul waits, unwilling to sleep while exposed, for what feels like twice the time he would normally rest himself. Still the jedi sleeps.

His bruising has faded away over the course of this hibernation, colorshifting until the skin is cream toned again, and the scrapes and abrasions are nothing but faint lines. On one hand, he is disappointed to see the markings fade. On the other, a blank canvas invites new paint…

Eventually, Maul grows too bored to tolerate. Even with a selection of fresh calamari to nibble on. He shakes the other man, calling him back from his endless rest, “Kenobi. Awaken.”

The jedi groans, burrowing closer.

“Jediiii,” Maul hisses, “Wake. Up.”

Kenobi rolls away, batting at the hands which shake him, wiggling to the magma rock instead.

Squinting, Maul pins exactly one hair from his head between two claws, and yanks.

The other man makes a sad noise, ducking his head further under the rock.

He pinches another hair, and yanks-

Kenobi comes half awake with an angry noise, elbowing him, then burrowing into his own arms.

Maul grins, entertained, and gets ahold of a single beard hair, and yanks-

The jedi punches him in the side of the head, making his ear fin sting something fierce.

“RrrraaaaahH!” Maul shrieks, somewhere between rage and glee, and grabs the other man by his tunics to rattle him about.

Finally, Kenobi truly wakes, muzzily batting him off and rolling away with a groan. “Ye gods, you're a monster, and it has very little to do with your career choices.”

Maul preens. “You brought it on yourself, jedi scum. You would not wake.”

“Have you considered that, perhaps, that was because I needed more sleep?” the man snaps in a cranky rasp, kicking him.

Maul wacks him with his tail fin.

Kenobi kicks him again, harder.

It quickly escalates. The jedi yanks on his horns, making Maul gasp as a strange zing runs down his spine. He gut punches Kenobi for the trouble. Maul snaps his many sharp teeth at an offending arm, and tears a hole in his robes that makes the man cry out in dismay.

The dragonfish sith is tossed across the room with the force, and immediately shows the jedi how terrible of an idea that was by springing back at him like a compressed coil.

Both of them are bleeding a bit by the time Maul is satisfied. Not that Kenobi seemed settled, but it is hard to effectively complain with hundreds of pounds of amphibious sith on top of you.

Maul pins the jedi's shoulders as he leans over him. “We are done now.”

“Go kriff yourself, Maul,” the other man says dryly, flat on his back and trapped under the weight. “I haven't done anything, I've been nothing but compliant! Why are you beating me?”

The dragonfish sith grins, all teeth. The jedi may act disdainful, but his body shows interest in the fight. His pulse is fast, he's supressing a grin, he feels excited in the force, and his blood isn't the only thing that's up.

Good. Maul likes to fight. “You would not wake up, and, you kicked me.”

“I was tired and you woke me up by pulling out my hair.” Kenobi says defensively.

“I was bored. You slept for half a day, at least,” Maul returns, “Such weakness.”

Kenobi sighs heavily, scrubbing hands over his face. “Yes yes, weak as a babe.”

The dragonfish sith giggles like water tossed on a campfire, and licks the trail of blood running from the jedi's split lip where it drips down into his beard. He mouths at the bloodied chin, stealing away all the iron taste. Kenobi makes a choking noise, eyes going wide as he freezes in place.

Maul’s grin only grows, broad and sharp and cunning.

“Must you… do that?” the man complains, cheeks turning red and barely managing a scowl as he looks at the ceiling over Maul's shoulder.

“Yesss,” the sith affirms with a spiteful laugh, writhing his tail over the legs pinned beneath him. He moves just so, and Kenobi’s back arches up off the ground, head tilting back as he moans.

Maul's brain empties itself as he sees throat bared to him.

Pale.

Thin skin.

A pulse, a fraction away from the surface, that would font if nicked in the slightest..

His hindbrain gibbers mixed signals at him like a badly tuned radio. The dragonfish in him says ‘food’, the zabrak says ‘submission’ and ‘trust’, the sith lord and trained assassin says ‘opportunity’... and the man that is all of those things and more just stares at that enticing expanse of throat.

He makes a little noise when it goes away.

No no… he… what was that? He…

Maul roils over top of Kenobi again, hoping to elicit that same…

The jedi paws at him, blinking rapidly. He looks confused with himself. "I, ah..."

“Again!” Maul demands.

“Mngh?” the man asks, limp underneath him.

“Your throat! Show me-

Kenobi makes more choking noises, scrambling out from under him in a flail of limbs and putting his back to a wall.

The jedi swallows, but it is so dry his throat clicks loud enough to hear “...force, I am so thirsty. Very thirsty! And hungry. I'm really wasting away here. Aren't you going to feed me? I'm probably losing kidney function as we speak.”

Maul makes a face, slowly rising up and looking towards the water, considering. “You cannot drink salt water…?”

“... no,” the jedi confirms. “That will kill me in hours.”

“Mnngnngn,” the sith replies. Yes... yes he knew that. “There are… fruits I can bring?”

Kenobi perks up, “Fruit sounds wonderful.”

“Mnnn,” he decides, “Fruit it is. First, we must move you to a more secure location. If one gorogoro found you here, more could come.”

The jedi makes a face himself, glances over at the water, then rotates his neck to look around the walls. “Move… how? I don't see any other caves.”

Maul sloughs over toward the water, pulling on the jedi's arm, “Through the tunnels. Come.”

Kenobi scoots away. “Or, consider, we could… not do that.”

A growl of annoyance rolls out of him. “Kenobi.”

Blue eyes flash at him, challenging. “The water is cold. I'm not well. My robes are covered in dried octopus viscera and crunch with salt, and there's no fresh water to bathe in. I don't want to be wet again on top of all that.”

Maul sneers at him, but pulls back, fists clenching and unclenching as he tries to think through what of that was whining pathetic jedi and which parts could actually kill him.

Dehydration… deadly fast.

Cold… deadly fast.

Poor hygiene… deadly eventually.

Maul hisses in annoyance, he did not like those results.

“I will… mnnnh… I will get a new heat stone, first. I will put fruit there. Hnnn… I will make it warm enough that you do not need clothes.”

“What, no,” the man says.

The sith nods. Yes, this will work. Not cold, not unclean, not hungry, and only wet briefly.

“Maul,” Kenobi says, pained, “You're going to the surface for fruit, yes? Please, just, bring me a container of fresh water? Please do not make me walk around naked. Leave me some dignity.”

The sith thunks his fist on his forehead a few times, then discards all of the difficult thoughts in favor of action. “I will consider it, jedi. For now, I will make the safer room… better.”

“Wait!” the other man calls.

“Mnh?” He turns.

Kenobi licks his cracked lips, “What if another octopus comes while you're gone? Leave me a way to defend myself.”

Maul hisses again, leaning forward, “You think I would give you a weapon? You would use it against me!”

“Just! Just think about it,” the jedi pleads. “If one comes, I can only dodge it. One slip up, and I'll be dead on the ground and half eaten before you ever get back.”

The sith shrieks his denial at that result. “No!”

Kenobi approaches him by the water's edge, reaching out to touch fingertips to Maul's left wrist. “I solemnly swear, on the force, if you give me my lightsaber to defend myself, when you return I will relinquish it without complaint or hesitation. Please. That… that pain. I don't want to die that way.”

Maul vibrates in place with displeasure. The jedi had a point. The jedi was certainly lying. What was the worst risk? Which result was less good?

…

… he would not lose his revenge to a mollusk.

“Fine,” he snaps, “stay here.”

The sith takes to the water with no small amount of aggravation. Down and through the warren of caves, he goes quickly to the distant nook where he had buried the blade and rebreather. Quick as he can, Maul returns to the unsecure prison cave.

He emerges just enough to check that a gorogoro has not appeared in the interim minutes. Seeing nothing but a pacing Kenobi, he rises up enough to catch the man's attention, and then tosses the hilt at him before quickly diving again before he can attack.

They can fight again, later, after there is food and water and warmth waiting for his fragile prisoner. A place for the jedi to recover after he is beaten for his lies.

The dragonfish sith gathers another magma ball, rolling it up and carrying it back in the force. The new cave is a little smaller, and does not have the under-floor water ways that the original one did -which Maul had intended to use to harass the jedi- but, it is much more defensible. Two ways in and out, plenty of oxygen and bioluminescent plants, various boulders, and a relatively flat floor. Also, none of it is splattered in blue blood.

He takes a brief moment to check on the jedi, who is curled up by his heat source, before taking off for the surface. It is not a short trip to the islands with the fruit trees, so he plans to take many.

The sith also steals the laundry off the line of a fishing boat, and uses a sheet to bundle all the things together, but then he has to stop scavenging and descend. It is too bright up here, and the air feels wrong in his lungs. Too thin.

Maul dives for the depths again, eyes scanning the water for escaped jedi, or, conspicuous corpses floating upward. To his surprise, pleasure, and suspicion Kenobi is still in the cave where Maul had left him. He makes a lap to drop off his finds, and returns for their fight.

“Kenobi~” the sith sings, “I am back. Will you kneel before me and hand over your saber?”

The jedi master turns towards him, then looks down at his unlit blade.

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Maul squints at him, calculating, and he has the uncomfortable realization that the other man may have simply taken that as a challenge.

“Hmmm…” The half dragonfish hums, twirling Obi-Wan's saber between his fingers, then igniting it.

He can feel the kyber song shudder. It does not want to be wielded in darkness.

Maul makes a swift strike, stopping a matter of inches from his hips. “Perhaps I should take your legs as you took mine… would that not be fair?” The man sneers, “Surely you jedi care about fairness.”

“No,” Obi-Wan counters, not giving an inch despite the sputtering heat of his own blade too close to his side, crackling as it resists this use. “The jedi code isn't concerned with being fair, only just.”

Maul grins. The defiance only seems to please him.

The dragonfish sith extinguishes the blade and sways backward on his tail, retreating to the water's edge. “I will return, and then I will take you to a different cave. Be prepared to go, jedi. I will drag you under either way.”

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan drawls as Maul backflips into the water, hardly making a splash, “It's a date.”

Alone again, unarmed again, the jedi prisoner scowls and goes to lurk beside the magma ball. It's only mildly warm now, the cooled shell being too good of an insulator. The center of it is likely still fluid, but it's thermal radiance is diminished. Obi-Wan still leans back against it, plotting.

He had been too stressed on that first day to pay much attention to the pathway Maul had taken from open sea to this particular cave as he kidnapped Obi-Wan to it. An oversight on his part. They would be going to a new one though, and as much as he isn't looking forward to the blasted cold, it would provide an opportunity to learn some of the area.

He could pay attention to the path between here and there, and then, maybe in a day or two, find a way to make Maul consider the new cave to also be an unacceptable cell. The sith would move him again. Another opportunity.

It would take time, cunning, and no small amount of manipulation, but if he could map out enough of these caves, he may be able to learn a way out.

The next problem would be getting all the way to the surface, slowly enough to not die of drowning or diver’s sickness.

One problem at a time.

Obi-Wan flips where he's leaning on the magma rock, attempting to warm his front side in advance of this next trip. That's how Maul finds him, practically hugging the misshapen ball of it.

“Jjjedi,” the sith calls to him from the water. “Come.”

Rather than waste energy being difficult when he wants to be focused and aware for the trip to the next cave, Obi-Wan opts to approach the water himself, and -with a grimace- take a deep breath and hop in. He manages to not gasp from the immense chill by a small margin of success. The temperature is bitterly cold, shocking even when he'd prepared.

Regardless of the chill, it's beautiful and alive down here. The seaweed drifts like tall, ribbon grass. The moss glows white and blue. Little fingerling fish with translucent bodies school around pink coral and porous stone.

Amid the beauty, the sith swims over to him, black and red and incongruous with it all… yet a part of it. A monster from above with dual citizenship on the ocean floor.

Maul swishes up to him, fast and graceful, and grabs his tunics before taking off.

‘Well,’ Obi-Wan thinks as he relaxes into the hold, ‘at least he isn't coiling around me like a vice this time.’

Maul glides them through the water, into a small tunnel that opens up into a larger one after only a few feet. Obi-Wan can see it going off to the left and right, lit by the moss. The sith takes them left, around a curve in the tunnel. The path splits into a dark corridor. They go left again, then right.

He hopes they arrive quickly, he'd like to breathe soon.

They go up, across the open sands of a massive cave the size of the senate chamber. The space is brightly lit by orange crystals and purple fish that glow in neon stripes.

He's running out of breath.

Their path leads though a hole in the wall. Obi-Wan looks upward, hoping to see an air pocket…

There isn't one.

Alarmed, he wacks Maul in the chest and gestures at his mouth. Where in the blazes are they going? He needs air! Even with the lungs of a swordfighter and the aid of the force, he has to-

Maul presses their mouths together, and breathes into him.

‘What,’ he thinks dumbly. The jedi master feels six different things at once. His thoughts are mangled by the chaos.

Now his lungs are overful, but the edge is taken off from his need to inhale. Obi-Wan lets some of the air escape him, making a cascade of silvery bubbles erupt around their faces. Maul does it again. A second stale breath fills him.

Oh. Right, yes, okay, the sith has made himself into a rebreather.

Obi-Wan breathes out again…

…and the Dragonfish sith gives him air once more.

… and again.

… and again.

They breach a water surface and Obi-Wan opens his eyes, blinking owlishly.

When had he closed them??

'Drat,' he thinks, dismayed.

… he'd lost track of their path.

Maul lifts him onto shore, and he feels heat at his back. Obi-Wan rolls towards it before he's even got his bearings, shivering and disoriented.

Mmmmm. Warm.

“This shall serve. A gorogoro cannot pass the threshold to enter unless it is juvenile, the door is too small,” Maul declares, sounding pleased with himself.

“That's nice,” Obi-Wan tells him, trying to get as close to the fresh magma ball as possible without burning himself. He shrimps around it with a sigh.

“You will drink. There is fruit. I shall hunt, while the magma is still hot enough to cook on. Speak your preference, Kenobi, or I will simply bring you crab.”

“I love crab,” he tells the wonderful black stone before him, “but I've no seafood cracker.”

The sith snorts, “You are an idiot,” the man tells him.

With a small splash, he's gone.

Obi-Wan's desire to be warmer fights with his desperate need to hydrate, until finally he gets up and at least looks for the supposed fruit.

There, not five feet away, is a massive pile of coconuts and laundry. He squints at it, making sure he's seeing it right. Did the oxygen deprivation do something to him…?

No, indeed, it's a pile of coconuts and laundry. There's even a laundry line and clothespins mixed up in it.

“Why-” he starts, then shakes his head, “No, nevermind. Let's see if I can split a coconut with the force.”

He can, but it spills the majority of the milk everywhere. Obi-Wan screws up enough coconut crackings to get his clothes covered in it, but who cares? The swim here might've cleaned off most of the octopus viscera, but he is still wet anyway. What's a little more?

The trick, it turns out, is drilling a hole in the top with a sharp rock, and drinking from that.

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