Jedi Do It With Their Boots On
by Basingstoke

{disclaimer/explanation/whatever: I've been thinking naughty thoughts about Punk Obi-Wan for a while, so I love the new backbone-enabled lad...and I just bought some 14-eye Docs from a friend that arrived straight-laced, and I couldna for the life of me figure out how to loosen a fever (I'm very ill) and a terribly dull environmental economics class brought this on.}

Friday night.

"This isn't funny," growled Maul.

"This is very funny," grinned Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's battered leather jacket was tossed into the corner near the door, and his black Iggy Pop t-shirt was draped precariously over the covered Hamster Habitrail. Obi-Wan himself lay flat on his back on the floor, grinning lasciviously up at Maul, clad still in scruffy jeans and his damnable 14-eye straight-laced Docs. One boot-clad ankle was clutched firmly in Maul's hands.

"How in five hells did you get these things ON in the first place?" snarled Maul, yanking at the inscrutable laces.

"No, you're tightening them! Pull the OTHER side." Obi-Wan was definitely laughing now.

"Is this some sort of test? Must I now run an obstacle course for sex?"

"Hey, I can figure out straight lacing. It's not supposed to be hard."

Obi-Wan's boot tapped enticingly against Maul's hovering chest. The horizontal bars of the laces taunted his smoldering gaze.

"Maul." Obi-Wan's eyes danced.

"Yes?" he glowered, forehead knotted with concentration.

"Why do you want my boots off so badly?"

Maul blinked.

Obi-Wan abruptly pushed Maul off-balance, setting him on his rump with Obi-Wan's ankle still clutched in his hands. Obi-Wan shifted forward, pressing Maul down until he lay flat back, Obi-Wan hovering over him. One boot planted squarely in his chest, the other knee resting on the carpet by Maul's waist, arms crossed over his upraised knee, grin sparkling down at the pinned Sith.

"Honestly, YOU'RE the straight-laced one. There's the couch. Here's a button-fly," with a gesture that shot straight down Maul's spine. "Need I say more?"

"Gleep," opined Maul as Obi-Wan grabbed his shirt and hauled him up against the couch. The shirt went flying, knocking the Iggy Pop shirt off the Habitrail. "Yeark," Maul continued, as his jeans were yanked down to knee level.



"I can't get your boots off."


Obi-Wan laughed and pulled Maul's booted ankles, sliding him underneath Obi-Wan's mostly unclad form, and made a sporting attempt to lick Maul's uvula.

"Maybe it's 'just sex,'" Obi-Wan whispered, biting Maul's earlobe, "but you're still all mine." And he grinned and claimed his lover.



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