The Season For Giving

Dark Lady

Rating NC-17
Warnings: Description of sexual activity between consenting people, and one profane word.
Disclaimer: No profit is being made from this story.  Lucas owns Maul, the concept belongs to Dark Lady.
Summary: Maul is stranded on a strange planet, where he learns of a custom involving the giving of gifts...
Feedback to: dark-lady@blueyonder.co.uk
Acknowledgements: To MaulMaus, who once again has beta'ed this story. Her suggestions have made immeasurable improvements, thankyou.
Copyright: Dark Lady 2002

From the edge of the seedy market place, Maul stared at the throng in the small dusty town square on this backward planet. The day was overcast and dark, and the air was cold, swooping in over the plain in a thin and bitter wind that chilled the bones. He pulled his thick hood closer over his head as he shivered, and wrapped his heavy black cloak tight around him, for he missed the balmy warmth of Naboo and sometimes even longed for the heat of Iridonia. Such discomforts and longings mattered little however, for he needed wire, and wondered whether this primitive planet had the technology, or even the capability to produce what he needed.

Iridium wire.

Iridium. A harsh and brittle metal, much given to breaking as it was swaged, for it would not be drawn through a die, unlike its noble cousin, platinum.

A short length of iridium wire was all he needed to repair the burnt-out hyperdrive coil. It was all he needed to return home to Coruscant at a decent speed. But the wire must be fine, like a human hair, like Hanshara's hair. For a moment he thought of his woman and the burning in his loins began again, for he had been away for many weeks already, on a mission for his Master, Lord Sidious. When he thought about his mate the burning became almost unbearable and enraged him. However, he would not use his hand to release himself of the sexual tension that had built up during this mission, nor would he take advantage of the many prostitutes thronging the bars and cafes on the edge of the market square, for he knew that the wait would increase the passion between them later. 'Self control must do for now,' he reminded himself, regulating his breathing and turning his mind to the matter in hand, that of fine iridium wire.

Snarling quietly to himself he moved through the ragged crowd, his hand on his sabre while he used the Force to 'encourage' the barterers and hagglers to move out of his path as he looked at the poor offerings piled high on the shabby stalls. Being a man of reserve and haughty demeanour he disliked physical contact with lesser beings intensely, although he would push and shove to get his way if necessary. Today it was necessary, and when the crowd would not part for him, he pushed and shoved, wrinkling his long nose at the sometimes offensive odours that arose from the malodorous unwashed bodies around him, and the stinking gutters beneath him.

They seemed to have little in the way of hot water and soap, let alone the high temperature facilities needed to produce iridium wire. Would this Force-forsaken planet have such wire or must he limp home on the ion drive? At sub-light speeds that would take weeks. More weeks. More weeks of burning, distraction, and being alone. Loneliness did not bother him, but the burning did. Many weeks of meditation and self control, which were barely effective in dealing with this matter, loomed large in his mind. But it was late in the day, and stall holders were beginning to close the shutters on their paltry wares as the crowds drifted away, the men to the gaming dens and smoking halls, the women to the pastry shops.

The light was fading, so Maul retrieved his speeder from the rear of the tavern where he had hidden it, and began the short drive back to the Infiltrator. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would search for a jeweller.

The morning started much like the day before had ended, cold and dreary. A fine drizzle had permeated the air like fine mist, although the clouds were high and held the promise of a finer day once they had dissipated. Walking with a brisk step through the market, Maul found the town was still drab, and the people still poor. A jeweller might have the skill, the technology, but these impoverished people appeared to have little use for personal adornment. Resigning himself to the tedium of many weeks in space as the Infiltrator limped home to Coruscant, Maul made his way to the shops and galleries at the edge of the market place. The wind started again, and whipped his heavy cloak around him, so he pulled the hood over his head and narrowed his eyes against the wind-borne grime and dirt, leaning into the wind as it threatened to tug his cloak away.

Glancing quickly into shop windows, looking for gems amid the dross, searching for something fine as a clue to the skill of the artisan who had made it, searching for a shop which sold such treasure - he found the tiny arcade. A haven of quiet darkness it was, a passageway leading to gloomy cave-like depths with islands of light as tiny shop windows blazed with sparkling wares.

Maul loved light. The sparkling things attracted his eye and the strange intensity of their glitter attracted his mind. Momentarily he forgot iridium wire and gazed into window after window at the fine wrought work laid out for the delectation of the passer-by. The technology required to manufacture such artefacts was of a high order, but the bigger puzzle was how a poor community such as this could afford to purchase such gewgaws. They were expensive. Maul did a quick calculation and converted the local currency into Republic Dataries. Very expensive.

He walked slowly down the arcade, and when he passed a window filled with glittering gems of the deepest sparkling red, trailed his gloved hand over the window in astonishment and stopped to stare at the pulsing fire within.

The red gems glowed like stars, with an inner fire and beauty he had never seen in any gem before. Even the Scythian fire-ruby which his Master, Sidious, had purchased for his favourite mistress paled into insignificance when compared with these. He gazed for some time, until he became conscious of a presence, and a wrinkled hand mysteriously appeared from behind the curtain at the back of the window, re-arranged some of the gems, and placed another in the centre of the display. The hand then withdrew itself and disappeared again.

This new gem was exquisite, and sparkled and glittered with even greater intensity. Like the other gems, it was mounted on a silver coloured wire of exceptional fineness, which coiled, forming a tight spiral. This gem intrigued. This gem must be investigated, for its beauty was such that perhaps Sidious would have a use for it. More importantly, if such things could be cut and polished to such radiant perfection, perhaps Iridium wire could be made, and therefore purchased. Decision made, Maul pulled his hood forward to hide his face, and opened the door.

The doorway was low, so low in fact, that Maul must stoop to enter the dark and musty shop, heavy with scented smoke redolent of exotic wood. The atmosphere was charged with the static of an alien power, and a mysterious red glow seeped like blood from gaps in the black velvet curtains which separated the window on the arcade from the shop. In front of him sat a long display case made of heavy glass, bound with stout bands of yellow metal. A black velvet cloth lay like a pool of deepest night on top of the counter.

The walls were hung with the same heavy black velvet that hid the shop window, and the floor was covered in black carpet with a thick pile which muffled his light footfall. Arranged around the walls were tall lamps that cast a dim light upwards, barely illuminating the cave-like room, and somewhere, a stringed instrument made a repetitive and discordant tune. As the door closed behind him, a faint chime sounded, and a heavy curtain to the rear of the shop was drawn aside by a gnarled hand with long nails painted black and decked with fine rings of silvery metal. An elderly human male, with long moustaches and lined face slid into the shop. He stood with regal manner behind the counter and made a small but dignified bow as Maul studied him, noting the long grey robes of fine cloth, bound with embroidered red satin along the left hand edge; the magnifiers of exceptional quality slung on a fine chain around his neck; and the aura of power the man had. Whether this power was dark or light, Maul was unable to discern.

"The gems, what is their purpose? Love gifts? Ceremonial jewels?" Maul wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

"Their purpose Sir, is to persuade." The jeweller replied in a quiet tone, his voice firm and authoritative. His eyes narrowed and he buried his hands inside his sleeves as he regarded Maul with a steady gaze.

Maul snorted. "Love gifts then, for misty eyed swains! What is their nature, what is their substance?"

The jeweller smiled, and drawing his hands from his sleeves, scattered a handful of gems onto the black velvet which lay on the display case. These were white, and glowed like diminutive stars. "As you say, but what better to persuade a virgin than one of these?"

"I know no virgins," said Maul, "the company I keep is not of that persuasion."

The jeweller smiled a little as he gathered up the gems with a fluid movement which belied his age, and placed them in a small pouch which he tucked into his robe. "Perhaps something for a more red-blooded female then…" Another pouch materialised and a truly magnificent fiery gem tumbled out of it on to the velvet.

The gem pulsed and beat with inner fire, the intensity of colour changing, waxing and waning like a moon in its seasons. Maul had never seen the like and pushed it around the velvet with a gloved finger, as if he was a cat playing with a mouse, but in reality examining the shape and cut, and finding how the coiled wire was attached. The thing vibrated under his fingers as he pushed it, as if it were singing. "How can such a thing persuade?" he asked, curious about the power he felt contained within the substance of the gem.

There was silence in the small shop, as the jeweller looked at Maul playing with the jewel, until Maul lost his patience and looked up sharply at the Mage, wanting a reply from him and sensing some reluctance. Also, sensing something else.

"When used rightly, do not all such things persuade?" said the jeweller, with a shrewd expression and cynical tone of voice.

"There was something else in your mind," remarked Maul coolly, "something of subtlety and hidden meaning." As he spoke he put the jewel to one side and withdrew the hood, revealing his savage and exotic tattoos, and placed his right hand upon the hilt of his sabre. He drew himself up calling the Force to him, and gathered shadows around him and dark to the back of him, showing the jeweller a hideous and terrible aspect of himself for but a moment.

That moment loosened the tongue of the jeweller, and he blanched a little as he turned away, spoke in hushed tones, making signs with a trembling hand, as if to ward off some evil, before looking back at his customer.

"There is an ancient festival here, called 'Gifting Day,' when evil walks abroad, and spirits whisper terrible fancies into the mind, and take what emotion they may from the citizens of this world. These gems," and the old man gestured at the jewel, resplendent upon the black velvet, "ward off that evil, but the use of them has a price."

Maul was intrigued, but wondered privately if the festival might be a superstitious fancy. "And that price is?"

"Rather than let the evil take your mind, or your wife, or your livelihood, you purchase a jewel and offer it to the one you love most of all, and ask of them whatever you want. They cannot refuse, you see. If the holder of the jewel is so minded, he or she might debase the object of their desire, but even so, the evil is mitigated, attenuated. The evil that man can do to even a loved one is the lesser." The old man cast down his eyes and touched a heavily inscribed ring upon his hand, the angular characters engraved upon it similar to those embroidered upon the silken edge of his robe. "It has taken my Guild many millennia to reach this point, to drag this world out of the dark ages of madness and grief into even a little light."

"Light! You call this light? This drab and dirty town with it's stinking people awash in their own filth?" Maul sneered.

The jeweller walked to the door, pushed the heavy curtain to one side and peered into the gloom outside. "Five millennia ago, something visited us from the stars and plunged us into misery. The Guild of Magi was formed to combat this evil which lives all around us, yet is kept at bay by our gems."

He turned back to face Maul, and pulled dignity about him like a fine robe.

"We have replaced chaos with ritual, anarchy with order, and despair with a little hope. Even for us, the making of these gems has a price. The heart of the jewel is in the wire, it must resonate at a certain frequency to counter the evil planted in the mind, and only woman has the skill to marry the two. My daughters can never breed, for the metal corrupts their flesh, my sons must carry on the guild."

"And the substance of this jewel?"

"A simple oxide of iridium, with a single element contaminant to get the colour. Of course, which element is our secret, you might say."

It was then that Maul realised the gems were artificial, and iridium oxide? That intimated a high order of technology. "Iridium?"

"Indeed. A difficult metal, but one which can be made to bend to our purpose."

Maul turned back to the display case with a grudging respect for the skills of the old man. The gem rolled this way and that as he pushed it around and stared at it in equal measure. "I have need of Iridium." He remarked casually, playing still with the jewel.

"Prepared in what manner?" The old man's eyes followed the perambulations of the gem.

"Wire!" rapped Maul. "Wire of exactly this dimension and length." He gestured dismissively at the wire upon which the gem was mounted, rested his hand on the hilt of his sabre, and looked up at the jeweller. "You have it?"

"This is iridium." The old man tapped the thin wire attached to the gem, with a long black nail.

Maul's head spun with possibilities; of repairing the hyperdrive; of being off this Force forsaken planet and soon; of seeing his woman - and that would not be soon enough. He looked up sharply to see the old man's face become sombre, as if he had just chased away a smile, and wondered whether he had read his mind in some way, but he dismissed the thought and merely glared at him.

"How much for the wire?" Maul demanded as he picked up the gem, inspected it again with a cursory manner, and put it down as if it was of no importance.

The jeweller demurred. "They cannot be separated except with great difficulty. The wire powers the gem. It is the means by which it gives substance to your innermost desire."

"My only desire is to continue my journey," Maul lied. "And for that, I require only the wire."

"And what of the jewel? The wire greatly amplifies its power. If they are separated, the power of the gem is almost as nothing, and the festival is tomorrow - there is no more iridium."

Maul was adamant. "Then I will take the gem, but I require it to be separated from the wire."

The jeweller bowed in acknowledgement, "As you wish, but you must collect it tomorrow, after they have been parted."

"And your price?"

The jeweller named a ridiculous price. As if even this gem could be worth so many credits! However, Maul could not get the better of the jeweller, who would not separate the gem from the coil of wire unless both were purchased, and he thought of the burning which plagued him even now, and he thought of his woman.

Even as he tried to use the Force, the old man merely smiled in return, to Maul's astonishment and surprise, which he hid well.

Maul paid.

He hurried to his speeder, for he had been some time, and the approaching night was bitterly cold, the sky was clear, and more than a million stars blazed in the rapidly darkening heavens. For a moment, he stood looking up at them, and directed his thoughts to Coruscant and his Master, and wondered why the Force was so powerful here, yet he could use it but little, adept though he was. He shivered again, wrapped his warm black cloak about him, and hurried on.

Maul returned to the arcade early the following morning, to collect the wire, and the jewel. This day, unlike the day before, had started bright and clear, fulfilling the promise of the night. Walking through the market square to the arcade, he saw the gutters and gullies had been cleaned, and ran with clear water into sweet smelling drains.

There were citizens about, laughing, joking, making animated conversation. Moreover, they themselves had bathed and as Maul strode past, he caught a subtle scent of citrus from the men, or flowers from the women, and the stalls were piled high with lighted candles of every shape and size. Streamers of lights were strung from stall to stall, and every pillar and post was decorated with lights, flowers, and colour.

Coming to the centre of the square, he found the throng parting to make way for him, making pleasant greeting, and engaging in witty banter. Closer now to the people who yesterday had been surly and melancholic, he saw their clothes, although clean, were patched and many threadbare, and they held gems, of many colours and sizes. The fare upon the stalls was the same as yesterday, but arranged in pleasing patterns and jaunty display, decorated with yet more lights and flowers.

As Maul walked, the crowds started to build, and he hastened to the arcade, where he might collect his purchase, and then make his way home to Coruscant.

Suddenly the wind seemed to rise and the air become cold and chill, although there was no movement of the air. Then the sun appeared to darken, although no cloud obscured it. The light seemed to writhe around him and alien figures made sport in that place just beyond his vision, yet when he turned his head, there was no-one there. And there was screaming in his mind, and a great desolation of the soul forced itself upon him, such that he must gather the Dark Force about him for comfort and sanity's sake.

The arcade was dark, and the howling in his mind was louder here, as if a thousand unhallowed spirits writhed in torment in the dark passageway. The windows of the small shops, yesterday each aglow with the fire of a thousand jewels, only glittered today with cheap and tawdry amulets, and trinkets of a questionable provenance. In front of the shop from whence the jewel had been purchased, stood the old jeweller, holding a small package. The shop was closed, and Maul took the package, and examined it - the jewel within glowing as brightly as it had before, and the wire being of the length and width he required.

Looking up to acknowledge the completion of his purchase, Maul saw an alien form appear and bow before him, as other horrors gathered in the roiling shadows. There were echoing voices in a gathering gloom and clamour; that he was a dark lord; that he was one of their kind in his heart; to join them and rule this piteous planet…

Maul recoiled in disgust, and the alien moved to shift and writhe behind the jeweller, and speak to him in a voice like that of an angel, sweetly and seductively, talking of murder of this new rival. His blood turned cold as ice when the old man moved beyond his gaze and he screamed in a pitch that only the ears of a Sith could hear. The form of the alien was terrible to see, lizard-like, with many eyes, claws, and coiling tentacles dripping a stinking ichor. Yet the aged Mage stood firm, held aloft a gem of pure red light, and spoke words in an alien tongue which made the creature cower and snarl defiance, and curl in on itself and fade away.

Maul blinked, and turned swiftly from his battle stance, for he had automatically unclipped his sabre igniting it, ready for slaughter, but he realised the futility of fighting shades and phantoms with such a weapon. Glancing warily around him he switched off the light-sabre and saw the Mage leaning against the window of his shop, as if he was tired and exhausted, the gem clutched in a shaking hand.

"Go!" uttered the old man, stretching out a warding hand, "You are an emissary of the dark, as are they, and they would remove you from their presence. The gem you have purchased will afford you a little protection as you go to your ship. Use it! We choose the light and would be rid of all of you, but to kill you would be an evil thing..."

Maul picked the jewel out of the package and pulled his coat around him, for the wind was tugging it. He left the arcade and saw the citizens battle with the lizards, holding the jewels to their loved ones and asking a boon. He saw what those boons were, he saw how they were taken, how they were given. He saw the lizards vanquished by generosity and light. Gathering the Dark about him, he vanquished fear, and holding the fiery jewel in his open hand, walked safely to his ship.

Hyperdrive repaired, Maul keyed in the coordinates for Coruscant and sat back in the pilot's command seat. Before sending the final 'Execute' command, he retrieved the gem, now denuded of the fine wire, from the hidden pocket in his tunic, and placed it on the console.

He looked at it for a short time and explored the power within, and meditated upon the meaning of the colour 'Red', and its correspondence with blood and war, danger, swords and sabres, courage, strength, the masculine principle, the Emperor as concept - things of power and significance.

There were also the more subtle correspondences; of the will, sandalwood, lust, sex, passion, fire, heat, and the life force. There were other correspondences too; love, devotion, protection, creativity, healing, and transformation. As far as Maul was concerned, these were the weaker and female correspondences and therefore to be disregarded, yet Sidious required them to be learned as if they were important. So Maul did so learn them but attended little to their meaning and significance. Of them all, love had no place in his life, for he was promised to the Order of Sith Knights; a warrior destined to rule the galaxy when Sidious saw fit, or when Sidious became weak with age and could be deposed. He looked forward to that day.

Having reflected thus, he then turned his thoughts to his woman, who would be waiting on his return. Lust stroked his loins and desire inflamed his soul, but he made no effort to turn his thoughts elsewhere. Instead, he luxuriated in thoughts of her touch, her skin, her lips and how they used him. Then with a broad grin he hit the final command key and prepared himself for the two short days or so of travel to his Master, and also to his woman.

Maul's eyes glittered with lust and as he stared at her, he lasciviously passed his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, allowing her to see the tip as it ran over his mottled teeth. But she just stood against the wall and leaned back against it, folded her arms, and smiled at him. That was all. She smiled at him.

The self-imposed chastity during the long mission grated. "I have needs..." he growled, his voice harsh and his manner petulant despite the burning in his loins and his desire to hold her. In his mind he had had visions of her tearing away his clothes, touching him, holding him, pressing herself up against him, then parting her lovely legs for him. Irritated, he tapped the hilt of his lightsabre with sharpened claws as he took a single step towards her. He stopped and stood, facing her, feet apart, and waited as her smile deepened and she put her head to one side.

What sort of welcome was this? Her eyes might sparkle but he wanted much more than a smile and a pretty look.

"Come here, woman, and remove your clothes. Attend to me!" He made his voice commanding, and scowled at her, to encourage her complicity.

"Attend to you? And don't I have needs?" The question was softly spoken, with a hint of mischief hidden under a veil of sensuality. It aroused him more. He would not have thought it possible.

He wondered what her needs might be but reminded himself that she was to be subdued to his desires, for he was man and Sith and she was mere woman and Jedi. With an impatient gesture he waved the protestation aside. "Your need is to service me. Or must I bind you? I want… I need…" His voice trailed away and with a stern resolve, he pressed his lips firmly together and frowned, for being Sith, he could not, or would not, articulate the words that meant he wanted her, and only her. As for love, that was a Jedi thing, and to be despised. She might indulge her emotions in this way, but love was a weakness, and he was not weak. Never weak. Whatever it was he had for her, it made him stronger, so how could it be 'love'?

The smile became a broad grin, and she lowered her head and made a mock growl deep in her throat, but still did not move towards him. Instead, she leaned back against the wall and rested her head upon it. The look she sent him was warm, inviting, and her eyes were full of desire for him, but she remained still and waited.

'Enough was enough,' he thought, as frustration and anger flared, and he lunged for her throat. He pinned her against the wall as he carefully encircled her neck with one strong hand and thrust his knee between her legs. His anger evaporated as fast as it had risen as he stroked the white skin of her neck and thought how he would love to bite it. Instead, he kissed it, with a most delicate touch of his parted lips. The scent of her was heady, and his tongue flickered onto her skin to taste her. After so long an absence, his need was strong and powerful, but he waited, he would not force her.

"I will bind you and take you," he threatened in his soft and cultured voice, mouth against her ear, rubbing his cheek against hers. "And I will tie you down so you wait upon my pleasure, then I will take you again, and…" The closeness of her was enough to make his senses reel, and not wanting to wait any more, he reached for her lips to press his hard demanding mouth upon hers.

To his great surprise, and surely by chance for she never refused him, she turned her head away just before the kiss. "Persuade me!"

His patience was wearing thin, and he was not a patient man, despite Sidious' exhortations to the contrary. Persuade? He remembered the gem hidden within the pocket of his coat. A little of its power remained and it felt hot against his thigh. He was sure he could almost feel the light as it glowed with a fierce heat. He thought about using it as a love gift to gain his way with her, use the rich red beauty of it to persuade her, but cast the idea aside for that would demean her. He never brought her gifts, for she was his equal, not a woman kept for ornament or his personal pleasure. Anything he did bring to her was for her amusement only; a fossil, a feather coloured with wild and unusual patterns, an intriguing stone, something natural and found in passing - not something bought with a mind to coercion or bribery, or recompense.

He put on the voice of the seducer. "Shall my body persuade you then?" and pressed himself against her, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, as he breathed against her ear and kissed it. He felt her wriggle slyly underneath him so she could feel every contour of interest. He knew there was plenty to interest her.

"Oh, that will always persuade me, but…" Relief flooded his mind as her hands slid up his arms, and her fingers stroked his head. Eyes closed, he arched his bare skull into her fingers as they massaged his head and stroked the bases of his horns, and he growled with anticipation of pleasure to come as well as the pleasure she gave him now. A shiver ran from the base of his spine up the back of his neck making him growl again, and he pushed both hands into her hair and held her face still for more of this kissing that she liked so much.

Kissing was not native to his culture, but he liked it and relished it, as he did the many other forms of sexual play that they enjoyed. He liked the ritual of parting her lips with his tongue, then sliding his tongue into her mouth and tasting her. She always tasted fresh and sweet, and she always welcomed his kiss. Never had she turned away, or closed her mouth to him. By chance again, as his lips were about to touch hers, she moved and turned her head to whisper in his ear, "persuade me some more…", and so he must kiss her neck instead, and wrap his arms more tightly around her to keep her under him.

'But.' He had forgotten her previous words, he had forgotten the 'but.'

He pressed her more firmly against the wall and wished that the layers of clothing and fabric between them were gone. "How! What else do you want from me if my body is now not enough for you?" Even to himself he sounded bitter and momentarily he wondered whether a practice bout with a battle droid might be more rewarding than this.

He felt her clever fingers insinuate themselves into his combat dress and tug a little at his tunic, which reminded him of the touch of her bare skin against his, and how much he liked it. Thoughts of battle droids fled his mind.

"Tell me what it is you want." Her voice was soft and sweet in his ear and he felt her breath against him as her fingers idly played with the fabric of his under-tunic, tugging a little here, pulling a little there.

"You know what I want," he muttered, as with one hand wrapped tight in her hair, the other free, he pulled at her Jedi garments in return, the hidden ties and arcane fastenings frustrating his eager fingers become frantic with desire.

"Tell me…"

"I want, I want…" Suddenly her belt started to come free in his hand, but then would unfasten no further. He persisted and struggled with it for a moment, and cursed roundly to himself.

"Yes?" Her voice was cajoling. Her fingers had found their way inside his tunic and discovered his ribs, and she danced her fingers lightly along the bones with a touch that was knowing and deft, and then round his back, leaving what felt like sparks of heat which spread and joined and set his nerves alight. He shivered and pulled at her belt buckle again as she moved her fingers up and down his spine making him shiver more.

"You." The buckle gave way and dropped to the floor, then he proceeded to undo her over-tunic, but the fastenings would not part and slid under his fingers as if he was suddenly clumsy, and inept. He lost his temper.

"I want you!" he shouted, pulling violently at her clothes in barely suppressed rage. "I want you and you deny me!"

Clumsy fingers suddenly became adept with the fastenings to her tunic and breeches, and her clothes fell to the floor as quickly as his. Then she was naked in his arms and he hugged her to him as she twined her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. Skin like satin. Skin like silk. Skin that was warm, soft, yielding. Her skin. He felt moisture on him, but when he looked at her, her eyes were bright, and she looked joyful at his safe return, as indeed she should.

"Would I ever deny you?" The surprise in her voice registered in his mind but he was concerned now with touching as much of her as he could with his slender patterned fingers, now that he could. His hands roamed her body and he reached for her lips with his, parted her lips with his tongue, slid his tongue along her teeth and into her mouth. Truly she tasted wonderful, like cool spring water to a man dying of thirst.

"Then why do you play with me like this?" No, she never denied him, but his voice was a little waspish as he stroked her fine skin. Then his hands moved round to her breasts and he sighed as he thought of the things they might do together, and he forgot any complaint he might have against her.

Eyes heavy lidded and pupils wide with lust, he gazed into her eyes as she caressed his neck, then his head, and his horns, until he thought he might become insensible with delight as he flexed his body against her clever hands and became lost in the feel of her. Then need became urgent and they could hold back no longer.

He swept her up in his arms ready to carry her. She kissed and nibbled with urgency at his shoulder and clung to his neck, moaning, wanting him inside her, now.

Maul made an appreciative grunt, "I want you, ta'k beleth," - the word was an endearment in his own tongue, which was unknown to her and therefore would not be understood by her. He felt safe saying this, and was therefore not embarrassed by an unwarranted display of emotion. "I shall attend to you well," he said, carrying her the short distance to their bed.

The gem flared once, a glorious deep red, and the inner glow vanished. If he had looked, he would have seen that the gem looked ordinary, like a very fine ruby, albeit of exceptional clarity and colour.

Maul purred with contentment. He held her knees and rolled her on top of him, so he was still inside her, and kissed her. "Truly, that was the most glorious fuck..."

Hanshara opened her eyes wide in surprise, for he was a man of short but elegant speech, and rarely given to profanity. "Indeed it was, but..."

"It is the season for giving..." he murmured, before he drifted off to sleep with her wrapped in his arms.

END

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