If Sith Academy and Riding the Wheel of If are anything to go by, just being a Force user means hours upon hours of Force-driven levitational munky luvin' every night.Infinity-Iz-Blue wrote:Does this mean that the dark side is just a never-ending spiral of depravity? No wonder so many people joined up!
A few choice quotes from the SA stories:
Suddenly, he felt a tug on his pants leg. He and Sidious both looked down as one to see Yoda standing at his feet, preening. "Dance with me you will, big boy?"
Maul scowled and punted the little annoyance clear across the dance floor.
"Very good," Sidious sneered. "I hadn't thought you were ready to drop-kick Jedi Masters yet, but clearly I've trained you well."
A thin voice cried out from the other side of the hall, "When sober I become and not in corset I am bound, your asses I will surely kick!"
"Don't tell me you're a prude, Maul," an incredulous Sidious gasped.
"No, not a prude," Maul said. "It's just...it's just..." He downed a glowing orange drink, belched, and said, "It's kind of like how ordinary mortals don't like to think of their parents having sex."
"Oh please, Maul!" Sidious countered. "I'm far from your parent. Hell, I'm your Master and you know how kinky that sounds."
"So, my apprentice, I take it you eventually found someone to bed last night?"
"Yes, my Master."
"Anyone I know?"
"That twit Padawan next door. I'm not quite sure how it happened..."
"Oh please, you've had a thing for him for years."
"I have not!" Maul cried indignantly.
[...]
Sidious let loose an evil chuckle. "Oh, that's more delicious than I imagined. And yes, my apprentice, you are in deep denial. So, is he any good?"
"He's been well trained in how to use his formidable equipment, my Master," he admitted reluctantly.
"You are not accessing the Force through your rage?" Maul asked.
"No, I find it easier to use my baser instincts. But greed and lust don't really help one fight, do they?" She sighed, and Maul felt an adjustment in the Force as she reached out to the Force with her rage. "Okay, come and get me, horny boy!"
[...]
"Tell me how you access the Force," Maul demanded, ignoring her.
"To use your baser instincts to access the dark side, you need to be in touch with them," she smirked. "I sense you are repressed."
"I'm trying to get them to donate obscene sums of money to my reelection fund, and I thought, who better to help me with that than Darth Mary Sue here? I'm going to need her services for a week to help keep the Hutts entertained. They rather like dancing girls in metal bikinis. [...] However, as you can see, her rage is quite highly honed when it comes to dealing with her clients, and since it's nearly that time of the month for her. [...] I need you to take her PMS."
Before Maul could open his mouth to protest, Sidious took Mary Sue's hand and zotted Maul with a flash of purple lightning.
[...]
Maul stood there in a daze. [...] "I feel like I need a pint of Ben and Jerry's, a quilt, and a bad romance novel."
Obi-Wan was sprawled facedown in a sea of pastel silk cushions, surrounded by an assortment of sequined G-strings that Mary Sue would literally kill to possess. Open jars of body butter, shaving cream, flavored oils, and Klaussen extra-crispy pickles were arranged on what could no longer be described as the coffee table, although it did boast one tube of something that was coffee-flavored. The sexual smorgasbord was laid out within easy reach of the sofabed, which had been unfolded into a platform covered with thick pink fur. Its surface was studded with knobs, humps, miniature speakers, and a remote-control device evidently meant to be operated with the tongue. A rack that usually held CDs now clattered with scrapers, shackles, and ceremonial whips made from the dried, stretched penises of calves. Raw oysters in shot-glasses formed a half-circle around a towering incense cone shaped like . . . diapers and lollipops littered the . . .
Something squished under Maul's heel. Dazed by the sights and smells, let alone the sensations they produced, he automatically looked down. Did I really just step on a . . . He lifted his foot to get a better view. Yes, he had, and he hadn't even known they came in metallic plaid.
And the Jedi say Sith are devoted to the Dark Side?!
He was aware that entering Obi-Wan's apartment could be far more dangerous than killing him. Maul had witnessed enough of his neighbor's emotional meltdowns to know that when his mascara ran, it was time to haul ass back home and bar the door, because the twit inevitably latched onto the nearest person while he cried his heart out, and whenever the nearest person happened to be Maul, he cried his heart out over the course of nine or ten hours of torrid levitational sex.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Maul demanded.
"Tell you what?" Sidious asked.
"That I'm sleeping with your daughter... and your son. Oh, shit! you slept with him, too!"
"My son?" Sidious said, performing a quick analysis of the intersection of the set of his sexual partners and the set of Maul's sexual partners. "Kenobi? Well, who'd have guessed it? He certainly doesn't look like me..."
"My young apprentice is sleeping with two of our three children," Sidious told Dartha, conversationally.
"So?" Dartha asked. She waved her hand at Sidious. "Let's go upstairs."
"Let's go upstairs, my dear Dartha," Sidious said, kissing her hand. She smirked at Maul over Sidious's head before leaving with him.
Yes, he was definitely going to hurl, Maul decided. Too bad projectile vomit wasn't lethal to Sith Masters.
Obi-Wan stormed into the kitchen, a "die bitch die" look in his eyes. [...] "I can't believe you screwed my brother with me in the next room," Obi-Wan spat. "That prick! He's always so competitive with me."
[...]
"Maybe you should teach me a lesson," Maul said. You want me, he whammied in Obi-Wan's general direction. "Wanna fuck?"
Darth Sidious, Dark Transvestite of the Sith, was dressed in guy clothes. And he was clearly not happy about it.
"You and Cynthia aren't really...fucking, are you?"
She grinned again, a slightly sadistic gleam in her eye. "Like minks."
Maul winced. "Oh come on! That -- I mean, look at her! And...and I'm right across the hall, why fuck her when we could be -- "
Mary Sue shrugged. "She's better company than you are. And she's better in the sack, too."
[...]
Wince. "I don't need to hear that. I just can't believe you would pick Marshmallow Girl over -- "
She waved a kid-gloved hand. "Bitch bitch bitch. Deal with it, ok? Anyway, I don't get you. For some reason, she's convinced that you're hot shit. Won't shut up about you! It's ridiculous. One of the best lays on Coruscant's practically offering it up to you on a silver platter, and all you can think to do is whine because I like her better than you? You should get your ass over there for a tuneup instead. Don't know why she's hot for you, but you're a damn idiot not to take advantage of it. I'm serious."
"Sith don't date cuddly women," he recited. "It's right there in the Handbook."
"So, pin the damn book down and make some selective changes. I know you've done it before."
Another hour later, the priest finished up the litany of sins with a list of sexual 'crimes against Jabba' that had begun rather tamely with homosexuality and ended up with several perversions so varied and exotic that even Sidious looked to be at a loss about some of them. Whatever 'unwitnessed sexual congress' was, it sounded incredibly kinky. The whole thing left Maul unsettled and faintly aroused, which considering his surroundings worried the hell out of him. He'd given up on avoiding the tempting pamphlets, and instead had decided to solve two problems at once by munching idly on a few of them. This would have drawn him odd looks from those around him, but those of the uninitiated who weren't fast asleep were busy taking copious notes on the aforementioned perversions.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Maul admitted to having wondered how Sidious's family would manage to shoehorn his neighbor out of her beloved black and into your typical frippy, wear-it-once-and-then-bury-it-in-the-back-of-the-closet bridesmaid's dress. The obvious answer was, they hadn't. Well, not exactly. Okay, granted, it was a bridesmaid's dress, fashioned seam for seam, fold for fold and length for length identical to all the others in the ceremony. But it wasn't pink. And it sure wasn't chiffon. And it looked rather elegant, actually, as did the rest of the outfit. The hair and the nails and the lips were now all the same uniform flame red, as was the baby's breath bouquet, which she'd somehow managed to dye without destroying it. And he had to admit, for a round little thing, she looked unnervingly tasty in a low-cut dress. But that wasn't the point. No, that wasn't it at all. The point of Cynthia's going to the time and expense to create and wear the first black patent-leather bridesmaid's dress ever to appear outside of Yoda's 'special' wardrobe was the number of jaws that dropped as she breezed past, arm in arm with her brown-robed escort.
This wasn't the Obi-Wan Night Stand Tour. This was the Obi-Wan/ Maul Relationship Tour! Maul felt horribly exposed. Did everyone know who he was singing about?
"Plaid," he said again. "You--plaid."
"It's called a kilt," Obi-Wan said cheerily.
He wanted to say that he knew damn well what a kilt was but couldn't make his mouth work properly. The padawan had really outdone himself this time. Doc Marten's, with a chain around the left ankle. White socks. They should have looked stupid. They didn't. They just drew the gaze higher to the bare knees. Then the kilt. Oh, the kilt. Blue, black and green plaid, it clung enticingly to the lean, well-muscled thighs and narrow hips. Black leather sporran slung low, right over Kenobi's crotch. Red braces, no shirt and a black leather jacket. Hair in artful disarray and begging to be mussed further. Tiny skull fetish beads carved from bone dangled from the padawan braid and small, silver hoops gleamed in each ear.
"Maul?"
"Kilt," said Maul. "Plaid. Kilt. Sex. Now."
Iya! Iya! Surf's up, dude!
