Master Apprentice 
Archive
Fight Moves: One on One
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Feedback: elekdragon@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17, extremely difficult male/male sexual position
Category: Non-Q/O
Pairing: Qui/Maul
Summary: Qui-Gon demonstrates how Jedi fight, and just how flexible they can be.
Archive: Opposites Attract, MA and personal homepage, all others ask first.
Notes 1: Dedicated to my inspiration, Nightsister, for her Birthday. She asked, I delivered.
Notes 2: AU, where the Sith are already long revealed.
Notes 3: Special thanks to my beta Catnip, for the help.
Like a long-necked swan falling to earth, Qui-Gon Jinn
twisted in mid-air, his long body curving in a exquisite arch
as he flew forcefully backwards. It all seemed to be
happening in slow motion as his allegedly never-ending legs
passed over his head, avoided the green-glowing blade and
came around to stand feet-first on the ground. His body just
as quickly followed until he again stood straight on the
ground, ten metres from where he was only seconds ago.
He let the motion of his jump carry him as he curved his
spine, slowly falling backwards. Qui-Gon's left hand lifted
over his head while his right moved straight out from his
body, expertly keeping the lethal blade away from his body
and the floor. He caught himself on his left hand, and
continued through with the motion until he was completely
upside-down, balanced on one hand.
Short, sharp raps of two hands clapping together failed to
shake Qui-Gon's concentration, but it did cause him to open
his eyes. In the passageway to the training room was Maul. In
black tunic and pants, he looked like a shadow in the
darkened doorway; black-on-black. Qui-Gon smiled in welcome,
not allowing his stance to relax.
"You still train like a Jedi," Maul spoke as he stepped fully
into the room. The harsh light was swallowed by his clothes,
leaving him in darkness still; the Sith always seemed to be
walking in a shadow.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes as his stance wavered with the lapse
in concentration. 'Jedi.' He was no longer worthy of the
title.
The reminder of his exiled position was a painfully sharp
reality that cut into his hard-won peace. Straining to regain
his calm, he almost-whispered an answer that was becoming
trite with its repetition. "They may have cast me out from
the Order, but I am still a Jedi. No Council decree will
change that."
"You follow their ways, even when they have rejected you." It
was a statement, not a question.
"The bureaucracy rejected me. The Light--never." Qui-Gon took
a deep, cleansing breath, then let himself fall off center.
Rolling with the collapse of his balance, he tumbled to the
ground, deactivated his weapon, and rolled into a standing
position. His bare feet made soft slap on the hard, black
metal floor as he caught his footing. Though he would have
preferred to practice in a public garden with soft grass and
the thriving Living Force, after his very public fall from
grace one month ago, Maul's private training room seemed to
be a safer place.
Who would have thought that a Jedi Master would feel more
safe in a room with a Sith than with his fellow
knights?
Qui-Gon took the offered towel that Maul produced from behind
his back. Wiping the sweat off his brow--how long had he been
practicing?--Qui-Gon asked instead, "How long have you been
watching?"
"Since you started that last..." At a loss for a description,
Maul gestured to Qui-Gon, waiting for the old Master to
patiently explain. Maul was ever-curious, and Qui-Gon was
happy to teach him all he wanted to learn.
"It is called a kata." Qui-Gon pronounced the word carefully,
as though he were addressing a third-year initiate rather
than a well-trained master of the Force half his age. "It is
a training exercise we use to refine our fighting
skills."
Maul let out a kitten-sneeze laugh. "You fall as a fighting
skill?"
Qui-Gon laughed a little as well. After a year together, they
still had a lot to learn from each other. "In a fight, there
is always the possibility of falling. A Jedi learns to flow
with the Force, to make every motion a steady course of
action and reaction."
Maul's horned head tipped a little to the left; Qui-Gon knew
that meant he was thinking about something that didn't
compute correctly into his view of the world. How well
Qui-Gon knew that look. "Sith do not fall."
Qui-Gon placed his hand in the center of Maul's chest. There
was a surge of the Force, but before Maul could counter it,
Qui-Gon focused it and SHOVED.
Maul flew backwards. He hit the floor with his palms first
and used his momentum to flip over into a crouch facing
Qui-Gon. His golden eyes flared up at Qui-Gon, demanding an
explanation.
Qui-Gon stood over the ready-to-pounce Sith. "What do you
call that?"
"A lucky shot," Maul grumbled, his lower lip protruding
slightly in a very un-Sithly pout.
Qui-Gon laughed. It wasn't all that funny, but it struck a
chord deep inside him, and all the tension of the past month
came rolling out in deep belly laughs. He laughed hard. He
laughed so hard, he fell down flat on his ass. And then he
laughed even harder. He hadn't laughed like this in much too
long a time. The hurt look on his super-serious lover's face
was enough to keep him in giggles for several minutes. It
felt good to laugh again.
When he calmed down to a sigh, Maul asked plainly,
"Finished?"
Qui-Gon used the towel to wipe at his eyes before discarding
it on the floor. "Yes."
"Good." Maul stood in a swift, effortless motion and held out
a hand to Qui-Gon. "Then show me your kata."
Qui-Gon stood slowly with a hand-up from Maul, his aging body
still ready for more exercise despite the recent work-out. He
took up the first position standing beside Maul so that he
could get the correct body position. The younger man copied
it almost perfectly, reminding Qui-Gon just how advanced he
was compared to his Pada--his EX-Padawan. Qui-Gon dropped out
of position and moved in front of Maul to minutely correct
his posture and arm positions.
Qui-Gon demonstrated the first level of the kata, flowing
moves that were meant to bring the knight into the calm
stream of the Force, then watched as Maul violently flipped
through the steps, practicing the moves with single-minded
precision; punching where the kata asked for controlled hand
motions, kicking out into every step forward or back. He
repeated the steps in rapid-fire succession. "Hold." Maul
returned to the first position and awaited correction.
"This isn't a fight; it's a meditation."
"You said that it was for practicing fighting skills. This is
how a Sith fights."
"It isn't a marathon to see how many times you can copy the
same movement; it is..." Qui-Gon's mind churned quickly,
finding a way explain the Light Side of fighting to a Dark
Sider. "It is like a dance. There is a flow to it, a rhythm.
Close your eyes."
Maul looked over at Qui-Gon, his innate distrust of anything
Light fighting with his trust in his lover. "Close. Your.
Eyes." Qui-Gon punctuated his words by fluttering his hand
down Maul's face. Finally the boy gave in.
"Now listen to your heart." Qui-Gon pressed his palm to
Maul's chest, this time not pushing, just resting his hand
against the steel-hard muscles. "Feel how slow the beats rap
within your chest." He stroked the soft fabric, soothing the
pumping muscle beneath. Like a clear note of crystal music,
Qui-Gon could feel the Force gather around both of them. It
wasn't the usual red-cymbal of Maul's energy signal, nor was
it his own green-harp, but it was like a soft melody floating
on a fragrant breeze, a mixture of both.
Following the urgings of the Force music, Qui-Gon slid in
behind Maul, pressing himself to his back, molding his body
to the smaller man's. The fabric rubbed and tickled against
his bare chest, sticking to the sweat still clinging to his
skin. Maul stiffened a little, but relaxed as Qui-Gon
continued the lesson. "Feel how my heart beats in time with
yours. It is the way of the Force; everything is organized
along its flow lines. Light, Dark, Neutral. Everything is
interdependent." He pressed his cheek against the side of
Maul's head, feeling the reassuring nudge of a horn combing
through his hair as it fell forward to cover Maul's bare
scalp.
"It all flows together into one," Qui-Gon whispered directly
into Maul's ear.
The heat from Maul's body seeped into Qui-Gon's, making him
feel flushed and energized. In small increments, their
breaths began to come slower, deeper, in perfect harmony with
each other and with the mysterious power that embraced them
both. It was a flow of pure love that united them, guided
them.
To some unheard command, they moved. As one, the men smoothly
glided through the steps of the first level. Their bodies
moved in total synchronization, as if there were no
difference between them at all. Short, tall, young, old,
Sith, Jedi. It didn't matter. The music existed only for
them, and the moves only served to prove how well they fitted
together.
The exercise ended with Maul's arms wrapped around his chest,
enfolded in Qui-Gon's arms. Their hands met at Maul's
shoulder, the fingers twining. They stood like that for a
long time; maybe a minute, maybe forever. Time itself stood
still.
"Beautiful," Qui-Gon whispered, still touched by the
moment.
"Yes, you are," Maul whispered back, turning his head a
little to better look at Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon met his lips with his own, just brushing the soft,
black skin for a long moment before pulling back to trace the
crease between with just the tip of his tongue. Maul's tongue
peaked out between his lips, sneaking a quick flickering
massage of Qui-Gon's before slipping back inside. The
friction caused a slow shiver to pass under Qui-Gon's
skin.
The music changed a little, morphing into an older tune.
Qui-Gon's hands slid down Maul's arms, feeling the thick
muscle under the tunic shift as Maul's hands came to rest at
his sides. Qui-Gon skimmed over the flat plane of Maul's
stomach, stopping as his fingers dipped into the top of his
sash. Well acquainted with his lover's wardrobe, Qui-Gon
found the hidden tuck and loosened the long swath of fabric.
He rubbed Maul's belly through the fabric as it unraveled,
falling to the floor in a pool of blackness.
Without the weight of the sash, the tunic fell open,
revealing bare skin to Qui-Gon's touch. The hot flesh
quivered as just the tips of his fingers passed over the
ripples of muscle. The tiny bite of short nails across his
shallow navel made Maul's breathing hitch in his throat.
Continuing with those maddeningly feather-soft touches,
Qui-Gon worked his way up Maul's chest to his shoulders,
skimming over nipples that were like black pebbles, tracing
every bone, muscle and scar on his journey. His fingers
worked under the hem of the tunic and pulled it back. In one
long wave, Qui-Gon undulated his spine, moving his body away
from Maul's back just enough to strip the tunic off before
his body resumed contact, now flesh on flesh. As the tunic
joined the sash on the floor, Qui-Gon thrust his hips
forward, suddenly painfully aware of how arousing it was to
simply touch his lover's body.
It was one thing to touch, but he wanted to see, to taste, to
completely immerse himself in Maul. As if reading his mind,
Maul entwined the fingers of his right hand in Qui-Gon's left
and turned to face him. Beneath desire-heavy lids, yellow
eyes looked up at blue, blinking dreamily as a small smile
crept around the corners of his mouth. Maul's free hand came
up to cup Qui-Gon's bearded chin, his thumb gently stroking
his lower lip. Qui-Gon placed a small kiss against the
caressing thumb, exalting even in that little touch. The
younger man purred softly as Qui-Gon took it between his
teeth, nipping the tip of his finger lightly.
Following the strong curve of his jaw, Maul slid his hand up
into Qui-Gon's hair. He captured the elastic tie that held
most of the hair back away from his face and pulled it free.
The heavy, silvery hair fell forward in a wild tumble.
With lingering strokes, Maul wove his hand in Qui-Gon's hair,
positioning it just so around his face, petting down the more
stubborn locks into place. Qui-Gon just watched Maul's face
as he did this, delighting in the soft, unguarded expression
that came over his lover at moments like this. Moments when
his inborn tenderness and sensuality overtook his Sith
training. There was only one other time that he looked more
beautiful than he did right then; Qui-Gon grinned widely to
think of it.
Maul's eyes crinkled at the corner, and he tilted his head a
little to the left. "What are you grinning at?"
"Let me show you." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth
against Maul's. Qui-Gon opened his mouth and captured his
bottom lip, sucking it inside to tickle it with quick swipes
of tongue and little nips of teeth. Maul growled deep in his
chest, making it rumble all through Qui-Gon's body until he
was holding on just to keep his knees from melting. The kiss
grew deeper, longer, filled with the powerful attraction
between them.
Maul was the first to recover enough of his mind to find the
ties of Qui-Gon's workout pants. With one tug, the bow came
undone. With a second, the loose pants fell to the floor.
With a third, Qui-Gon was pulled hard against Maul's body,
their groins grinding together.
Qui-Gon pulled away from the lip-lock, his back arching with
the torturous pleasure of rough fabric rubbing against his
already aching erection. He couldn't stop the irresistible
urge to thrust forward, to get more of that feeling; his head
fell back, loose hair tickling his bare shoulders, as he bit
his lip to keep from a screaming climax.
Maul was right there when the lightning bolt of pleasure
coursed through its circuit of Qui-Gon's body; his hands
soothed his back as he kissed the bruised lips, slowly
bringing him back away from the edge of total completion.
"Not yet...not yet," he whispered, his deep voice a distant
rumbling thunder.
Maul gently coaxed Qui-Gon's hands to the fastenings of his
pants. Together, twenty fingers fumbled and tugged until the
two little hooks gave way before them. Qui-Gon's gaze was
drawn to the movement as the black fabric slid down Maul's
crimson hips to reveal his night-black erection.
Qui-Gon and Maul stepped back out of the circle of discarded
clothes and just looked at each other with the familiarity of
long-time lovers. Completely exposed before each other, they
couldn't deny that yes, they were different in so many ways,
but on the most fundamental levels, they were exactly the
same. And like magnetic opposites, they were hopelessly
attracted to each other. The world at large may not be ready
for them yet, but there was nothing that could stop them from
coming together.
In synch, they sank to the floor, the pile of their clothing
cushioning the fall. Kneeling together, their hands met
between them, entwining and clutching hard as if to prevent
them from ever being separated again. In the months before it
was revealed to the Council who his new lover was, Qui-Gon
had been forced to go days without seeing Maul before he
could sneak away to the Sith's private residence for a few
hours of pure joy. Never again would they have to suffer that
torture, now that all they had were each other.
Even on their knees, Maul was still shorter than Qui-Gon. He
had to slouch down to kiss him--not that he minded. He had
given up his life as a Jedi just to love Maul; he could
handle a little neck strain. Maul could do some wicked things
with his tongue, and the boy used all his skill to bring them
both to the next level, to where they were both breathing
hard and eager for release. The room suddenly felt very hot;
the floor suddenly felt very inviting.
Qui-Gon moved his mouth to Maul's jaw and neck, snuffling
soft kisses against his skin as he rubbed his face into the
joint between neck and shoulder. Maul nuzzled his face into
the soft fragrance of Qui-Gon's hair, letting the other man
take the lead. It was almost easy to push Maul back onto the
floor, his head pillowed on the simple fabric of his
discarded tunic. Flexible from many long years of intense
training, Maul's feet remained trapped under his body as he
bent backwards at his knees. The position thrust his pelvis
into the air, his erection standing tall and proud over his
body.
Qui-Gon loomed over him, using their conjoined hands to hold
Maul down, open and vulnerable to whatever the Jedi had
planned. He kept his back arched, his own sex dangling
precariously close to Maul's, almost but not quite brushing
tip-to-tip. Trapped, Maul tried to thrust up, to touch his
lover's body, but he couldn't move. He writhed instead, his
body moving to the music that only they could hear.
Smiling down at his lover, Qui-Gon shifted slightly, bringing
his hips down to swipe the length of his penis against
Maul's. The young man gasped at the sudden friction, strained
to feel more. He repeated the action, enjoying the open play
of sensation across his face. Maul's head lifted back, his
brow knotted, his eyes tightly shut. His mouth opened and
soft, little startled pants escaped the drawn-back lips. It
made Qui-Gon want to take that delicious mouth, to thrust
inside those painted lips.
Instead, Qui-Gon moved slowly down over his lover's body, not
quite touching. Maul followed the movement with fiery eyes
burning with desire. So much heat and need was radiating off
his small body it was a wonder that the clothes beneath them
didn't spontaneously combust. When his face was just
centimetres away from Maul's erection, the boy closed his
eyes, a long, liquid shudder rolling through his body at the
sheer eroticism of the position.
Qui-Gon waited for Maul's eyes to open again, and when they
did he opened his mouth as wide as it could go. A tiny noise,
almost a whimper, erupted from Maul's lust-choked throat.
Maul's fingers clenched in Qui-Gon's hand, almost to the
point of real pain. Licking his lips in a slow-motion swipe,
Qui-Gon leaned forward and breathed a long, hot breath along
the length of Maul's erection. The non-existent touch brushed
over the swollen flesh like a ghostly whisper, so gentle that
it was painful.
This time he did whimper. A long mewling breathy whimper of
pure agonized need. The noise tongued Qui-Gon's ears, an
aural turn-on that was as erotic as it was plaintive. Unable
to see any living creature in anguish, even one who suffered
as prettily as Maul, Qui-Gon took Maul's phallus into his
mouth, descending on the organ in a single down-ward
stroke.
Maul cried out, his words a slurred dialect of Standard and
choice phrases from many other languages. Unable to thrust
properly, his hips tilted in a disjointed angle, his
shallowly rolling spine only able to move a few centimetres
in any direction. Qui-Gon held his head still, using just his
tongue to tantalize and torture the swollen flesh in his
mouth. The spicy musk of Maul's scent filled his nose as his
flat belly pressed to his face, and the salty-sour taste of
semen made his mouth water.
"Please...Qui....please." Maul's words degenerated into
strangled pleas, his back curving up off the floor until his
head touched the tips of his toes. His horns tore great tears
in the fabric of his clothes as his head moved back over the
floor, digging deep into the make-shift pillow as he could
not control his contortions. Impossibly flexible, his knees
parted, opening himself more to Qui-Gon, pressing harder to
his face, trying hard to disappear into that
evil...delicious...cruel....*Light Side* mouth.
Qui-Gon held on as Maul folded himself backwards, riding out
the bucking without loosing his grip on the squirming body.
He pushed their joined hands beneath the base of his spine,
holding Maul up while taking on the majority of his weight.
Free of the pressure on his feet, Maul's legs uncurled, his
knees clutching Qui-Gon's. Taking the hint, Qui-Gon slid
forward until Maul's legs could wrap themselves around his
back.
Qui-Gon was bent forward over Maul's form, his knees beneath
the younger man's body, his long arms stretched to reach over
Maul's legs and under his back where he held his hands
captive. His erection yearned upwards, fighting to reach the
dark crease of Maul's ass even as Maul began to thrust harder
into Qui-Gon's mouth. Qui-Gon held him still by pressing him
hard against his face, forcing him to remain still inside his
mouth as his tongue continued to play a tormenting symphony
of pleasure on Maul's oversensitive flesh.
Maul, not willing to be completely passive, stretched his
legs until his heels were pressed into Qui-Gon's backside,
moving the man forward and up until the plumlike tip of the
Jedi's penis brushed his ass. "Yes Qui yes please now," he
gritted out, his body tense in its need for a release.
Unable to resist his lover when he begged, Qui-Gon slowly
pulled back from Maul's cock, sucking hard as he laved the
veins pulsing under the thin skin. When just the tip remained
in his mouth, he bent forward, bowing down over Maul's body.
Instead of descending back down upon Maul's penis, Qui-Gon
dropped Maul's body over his erection. By the will of the
Force, or by lust-directed urgings, or by sheer virtue of
repetition, Qui-Gon's erection found the entrance to Maul's
body and pressed inside. The tip steadily dripped
pre-ejaculate, but not nearly enough to completely ease the
entrance. The weight of both their bodies pushed him down,
even as Maul arched away from the sudden, dry penetration.
Qui-Gon set his teeth gently into the tender flesh beneath
Maul's glans and worried the flesh, distracting him from one
pain with another. Maul thrived on the sensations, his body
singing with the combination of stretching-burning and
sucking-biting.
It was a slow drop, like a long tone in the middle of a
Derrian opera singer's solo. It felt like hours before
Qui-Gon was completely embraced by Maul's body. He stopped
moving before he could be overwhelmed by the pulsing throb
and undone. Panting through his nose, dizzy with the scent
and taste and feel and sight of Maul aroused beyond rational
thought, Qui-Gon moaned deep in his chest.
The sound vibrated through Maul's body, making the
tight-bowstring of his spine quiver as though it had been
plucked. The shudder thrust Maul's hips upwards, causing him
to come up half-off Qui-Gon's impaling erection and into his
mouth. The duel sensations were almost too much for both of
them; it wouldn't take much to end it. Muscles shuddering
with the over-exertion, Maul sank back down, being pierced
once more while his own erection glided out through Qui-Gon's
lips.
His own body shuddering from being so close, so tired,
Qui-Gon helped his lover by lifting him up and dropping him
back down. The same music that had led their steps before
guided them now in an ancient rhythm of life. They lasted
only a few strokes before the silent chord between them
crashed and they climaxed in a crescendo of bursting,
blinding, rocking pleasure.
In a pile of exhausted, boneless limbs and sweat-soaked skin,
Qui-Gon and Maul fell sideways, their bodies tangled in a
more comfortable position. They panted, working to regain
their breath and their grip on the world. Too soon, their
bodies cooled, and the floor was no longer as comfortable as
it was before.
"I can't move," Qui-Gon spoke when he was sure his head
hadn't really exploded.
A black-red hand scrabbled for purchase on the wet floor,
then lay still like a fish out of water in a clear pool of
sweat. "Merph," Maul grumbled, his chest rumbling where it
was trapped under Qui-Gon's body.
"Geffah gerp," Qui-Gon agreed, shifting to get more
comfortable on Maul's body. It was too much effort to get up.
In an hour, they would move. Right now, it was just
fine.
Qui-Gon Force-levitated the long-forgotten towel over to
them, and, with the remnants of their clothing, covered them
both to keep warm.
For several minutes they lay in silence, enjoying the simple
pleasure of after-sex cuddling. Qui-Gon had been sure that
Maul had drifted into sleep, or at least beyond a clear
thought, when he felt the distinct rumble of his lover's deep
voice.
"You need to teach me more of these katas."
THE END