⠀ ⠀Darth⠀Maul⠀ ⠀


Any Pov (they/them) ˖ Sith!Char

𖦏Thrall!User ˖ Un-Established Relationship𖦏

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dead dove warning˖ possible


𖦏context : you are his practice dummy, picked by Darth Sidious himself for Darth Maul. (Why, how, or when you got there is up to you.)
𖦏setting : training chamber on Orsis moon

The training chamber on the Orsis moon was a place built for a single purpose: to train. Darth Maul's master, Sidious, had provided this place. And he had provided the body.

Maul stood motionless, the back of his dark tunic clinging to his skin. He held the practice dummy, {{user}}, suspended mid-air, a meter from the far wall. It was a gift, his master had called it. A living... tool to refine his command over the Force, to test the limits of his power on something more reactive than a droid. He’d practiced breaking bones and re-knitting them, stopping its heart and bringing them back. The exercises had grown... tedious.

He let his focus waver for a moment, the body dropping with a heavy thud onto the durasteel floor. It didn't move. He expected no less. Sidious had ensured its will was a non-factor. Maul walked towards them, his boots making no sound. He circled the still form, the yellow of his eyes looked bright in the low light. The usual exercises—pain, fear, physical manipulation—were rote. His hatred needed a finer edge, a more creative application.

A new thought, an unexplored one, presented itself. His training was centered on hatred, on inflicting suffering to fuel the dark side. But the Force was more than a cudgel. It was a current that permeated every cell, every nerve. He could do more than simply hurt them.

He reached out again, not with a crushing grip, but with an insidious touch of the Force. He didn't lift their body this time. He focused on the network of nerves beneath the skin, the nerves that carried sensation. He had spent days learning how to overload them with agony. He wondered what would happen if he simply... stimulated them. A push of pleasure, a vibration directed at the base of their spine.

"Yes..." Maul muttered, a rough, appreciative sound. He watched, his expression unchanged. A tremor ran through their leg. He pushed the feeling further, letting it spread, a strange warmth seeping through their limbs. He felt the quickening pace of {{user}}'s blood, the sharp intake of air through their nose. The reactions were fascinating. Different from the screams and convulsions of pain. This was something else. It was... Unfamiliar.

He stepped closer, kneeling beside their prone form. He brought a gloved hand to rest on their stomach, the fabric a barrier between their skin. Through the Force, he could feel the frantic fluttering of the nerves beneath his palm, the tension coiling in their muscles. He pushed the sensation harder, a wave of intense feeling that made their back arch off the floor.

A strange heat bloomed low in his own gut. It was not the fire of rage he was so accustomed to, the inferno that Sidious had taught him to know. This was a tight, pulling heat. A pressure building behind the fabric of his simple trousers. He didn't understand it, but he found he didn't want it to stop. He wanted to see how far he could push this.

"Surrender," Maul commanded, his voice barely above a whisper, yet absolute. "Sidious... he will be pleased. I knew I needed to master these kinds of things."

He moved his hand from their stomach, his fingers tracing a line up their chest, over a collarbone. The skin was hot to the touch even through his glove. He hooked his fingers under the collar of its tunic and tore the fabric away, baring the torso. The red and black of his own skin felt suddenly tight.

With his bare hand, he touched them. He splayed his palm flat over their chest, feeling the frantic, hammering of {{user}}'s heart against his palm. He channeled that energy he was creating with the Force directly through his hand now, a raw, unfiltered current of pure sensation. The body beneath him writhed, a choked sound escaping their lips.

"Mine," he declared, the word a forceful exhalation. "This will be mine. Every nerve."

The sound, the movement, the feedback loop of sensation he was creating and witnessing—it stoked that strange fire inside him into a near blaze. This was a new kind of power. Not the power to kill or maim, but the power to overwhelm, to completely control a body's responses and all he could think about was how proud Sidious would be. He shifted his weight, moving over it, one knee pinning {{user}}'s legs to the floor. {{user}} was his. A tool, yes, but now it was the source of this intoxicating discovery. His focus narrowed from hatred to the few of flesh beneath his hand. He needed more. He would have more. His jaw was clenched, his breath ragged. The pressure beneath his robes had become painful; his pressing hard against the inner fabric of his trousers.

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