Alissa Writes

You were up on your feet before you knew it, his large shirt on you pooling around your naked legs as you stared at him, the way he briefly oriented himself around the room, then spun around to face you.

In the blink of an eye, both of you rushed forward and you were lifted effortlessly into the air, both of your legs coming to wrap around his waist as he held you close. You let out a happy laugh near his ear, his arms tightening their hold around you as his hands roamed over you, touching everywhere at once.

“Fuck, how I missed that laugh.” Garrick mumbled deeply, his free hand cupping your cheek and making you look at him. You smiled brightly, placing your hand over his and drinking in the sight of him. Unharmed. Love swirling fiercely in his captivating eyes.

He was home.

You bridged the distance between him and you, kissing him slowly and with relish. Knowing Garrick, these kinds of kisses soon wouldn’t do anymore, at least not to sate the bottomless need inside of him.

He tilted his head to the side, hand sliding into your hair as he snaked his other arm around you. With a small gasp, you came to stand on your tiptoes, busy touching his biceps, his strong shoulders and neck…

Without breaking the kiss, Garrick walked over to the edge of the bed, his tongue licking fire into your mouth as he sat down with you and let his hands travel over your naked thighs. You let out a small sound at the sudden closeness before willing yourself to break away for just a moment.

He stared back at you with heavy breath and half-lidded eyes, his usually pale cheeks now getting some lovely color because of you.

“Everything went okay?” You asked quietly, shuffling forward in his lap so your chests pressed against each other, hearts starting to messily beat in sync once more.

Garrick nodded, tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand staying on your cheek. “We all couldn’t get back fast enough though.”

You caressed down his muscles as they flexed instinctively underneath your tender touch. Your eyes stayed on his, drowning in the warm hazel tone and the fire burning behind it. As your lips parted with a relieved sigh when he splayed his big hands over your hips now, Garrick tugged you even closer against the heat of his body. His scar, so familiar in the way it ran down his temple and vanished at his stoic jaw, shined silverly, the healed tissue soft and rough at once under your fingertips.

You examined him quietly, counting his exhales and the seconds where more of his patience dissolved into thin air as he did sometimes. No bruises or cuts. He was alright. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the tension having followed you for days making its leave as well.

“I’m okay.” He mumbled under his breath, not missing anything. His thumb brushed over your cheek and the gesture was so loving in this time of unease, it nearly made you cry right then.

But you had missed him, desired him when it became dark outside and the mattress beside you was still empty, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I missed you.” You confessed under your breath, a hungering something in your stomach curling itself tight. “I hate sleeping alone.”

“You don’t have to for a long while, trust me.” Garrick promised confidently and then you were kissing again, all softness from earlier forgotten as he nearly devoured you, needing to familiarize himself again with the feel of your soft lips, the taste of you.

You wound your arms around his strong neck and bucked your hips forward only to make him groan when your core brushed right over his hardness. Fuck.

“You don’t smell like me anymore.” He stated between hurried kisses, his tongue licking over the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you arch against his tall form. Garrick always knew how to make you melt in just a couple of moments and his impatient nature was only intensifying the need, especially after you had been separated for so long.

You looked at him, a little out of breath, and slowly leaned forward to playfully nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. Not breaking eye-contact, you whispered: “You should change that, Lieutenant.”

He was on you in a split second.

He quickly rose with you in his arms, spinning around and then falling onto the sheets with you. Letting out a squeal at the sudden movement, you had no time to recover as he slid above you and kissed you hard, biting down on your plump bottom lip and pushing his hips forward. The warm riding leathers rubbed over your panties and you groaned. As hot as this was, you needed something else. Something only he could give you.

“Too many clothes.” You gasped against his lips and he hummed in agreement and switched to kissing down your neck, soothingly sucking at your favorite spot all your friends would soon tease you about. “Get the fuck naked, Tavis.”

Sometimes you wondered if his signet came with the power of unnatural speed as well, because within under a minute by far, Garrick had torn away your clothes entirely, leaving you wanting and naked on the bed before him, his eyes travelling lazily over your body as if he suddenly had all the time in the world again.

Lifting his shirt over his head, Garrick took a deep breath as the muscles in his stomach flexed. He was hard through his briefs and subconsciously, you licked your lips.

“Show me.” He said quietly and you spread your legs, presenting the evidence of your desire to him, your hunger a roaring pit in your stomach as you felt yourself drip onto the sheets for him. Your own company hadn’t been enough to fill the hole he left behind when he had to leave.

Garrick slowly licked his lips, eyes staying on your pussy as he crawled forward and finally got rid of his shirt. When he pulled down his briefs, your breath hitched, enticed by his hard dick springing against his abs, deliciously leaking at the tip.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered in awe of you and you beamed at the praise, your back arching into his touch as he drew a circle around your belly button, slowly travelling down… “So fucking wet for me, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he gently pressed your thighs further apart, breathing heavily as he let a trail of spit fall down on your folds, the sudden contact making a nerve in your calf twitch. Finally.

The first touch of his fingertips against your clit set you aflame.

Your hands fisted the sheets, your entire body suddenly helpless underneath his touch as he began to draw slow, wet circles on your most sensitive part, the friction so heavenly you could not help but throw your head back and gasp for air.

“Eyes on me, love.” Garrick commanded calmly and you obeyed, every cell in your body needing to please him, to be loved and adored by him.

A needy whimper left your lips as he kept rubbing you and you writhed against the bedding, willing to let him play with you however he wanted if you only got to come soon, or even better -  have him inside of you again. He bit his lip, an approving rumble going through his chest as you bucked your hips into his touch.

“Garrick…” You breathed longingly as he fisted his weeping cock, his thumb stroking your clit in adoration as his other fingers swept through your wetness. “Please.”

“Shh, just a moment longer.” He said, transfixed and uncharacteristically patient as he slowly eased a finger inside of your hot pussy, the tightness and warmth of your walls making his dick twitch. You reached out in an attempt to jerk him off, but midair you froze and you nearly forgot yourself as he suddenly curled his digit upwards.

“Have you touched yourself while I was gone?” He asked curiously and you almost managed to roll your eyes on him before the first was quickly joined by another finger and you groaned at the pleasurepain of it.

“Have you?” You managed to bite back, instantly rewarded by his beautiful low laughter.

“Baby…” His thumb brushed over your sensitive folds and clit, the other hand soothingly stroking your thighs. “Just about every night, you know?”

Gods, how he pleased you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so well.” Garrick promised huskily, a smug grin taking over his face at the filthy sounds your pussy made as he fingered you.

“Then do it.” You gasped, shivering as he scissored his digits once more before he pulled them out, a string of your wetness following him as if a part of you just couldn’t let him go this easily. “I need you to fuck me. Now, Garrick.”

“Such an attitude.” Garrick grinned, shaking his head as if he didn’t love every fucking second of this. His girl, soaked and trembling under him, the scent of her welcoming heat clouding every rationality in his mind.

You held on to his broad shoulders as he lowered himself down on you, his hips resting snugly between your thighs and for a moment, it was quiet and good and you finally felt whole again.

You moaned shakingly in union with him, briefly biting down on his collarbone as he eased inside of you, inch by inch until your thighs were already shaking and his hips were cradled warmly between your thighs. Garrick grunted, resting his forehead between your tits, his breath fanning over the warm skin and making it break out in pleased shivers. The strong arms resting at your sides were trembling slightly.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, his tongue swirling around one of your aching buds before he looked at you awe-struck, not knowing how the hell he deserved to return to a heavenly woman like you. “’s been way too long…”

Your muscles flexed around him and he groaned, cock twitching inside of you. In a breathless whisper, you protested: “You’ve only been gone for two weeks.” Now you were challenging your luck.

“Two weeks too long, baby.” He muttered seriously before he caught your mouth in a hot and messy kiss, your moan swallowed by him as he pressed forward once again and then slowly pulled back, just to slowly fuck into you again when your head dropped helplessly onto his pillow.

Garrick rolled his hips, building up an intoxicating rhythm as you shook, your neglected pussy overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of it, of feeling him inside of you when you had to put up with your own fingers for the last days when the longing had become too much.

“Fuck baby, you’re gripping me so tightly…really missed me, huh?” He smiled at you brightly and if he hadn’t been balls deep inside of you right then, dragging his dick just right against your walls, you might’ve slapped him playfully.

“Don’t get cocky now.” Gods, you sounded ruined already and you knew he had not even started with you.

He grinned down at you, relishing the little twin pains in his shoulder blades where you held on to him tightly, still at his mercy while he oh so slowly fucked you. Garrick winked before he looked down to where his cock was sliding out of you, the sounds slippery and absolutely filthy as he used your puffy cunt to lube himself up more before he pushed back in. “Too late, hm?”

You glared at him, purposefully flexing around him and throwing your legs around his waist, causing him to plunge deeper inside of you. Garrick gasped in surprise but quickly regained his posture of confidence as he leaned down to kiss your chest, beginning to fuck you in earnest now.

The change was so sudden, it nearly gave you whiplash.

You were so wet, he could easily pound into you, his arms caging you in as his hips met yours. You bit back a scream as he lifted your bum from the mattress, holding on to him for dear life and then suddenly, the air split in two and-

- he suddenly stood with you in his arms, adjusting his grip on your thighs. You blinked at him in a second of confusion, peeking over his shoulder to see the abandoned messy bed where you two had just laid.

Garrick had wielded the distance. With you.

And he was still very much inside of you.

Your naked back hit the wall behind you and he bent his knees just slightly, the new angle making the delicious curve of his cock dragged over your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, the back of your head hitting the wall as he stared at you like you were his own personal goddess.

“Better.” He decided and lifted you, only to push you down onto his cock again. As if you weighed nothing in his arms, he resumed to fucking you once again, his thrusts sharp and passionate, lacking the patience from earlier and gaining more wildness with every push and pull.

You could do nothing but hold on to him as he fucked you, your high moans swallowed by his deep kisses when he wasn’t busy with ravishing your bared neck. He seemed to be everywhere at once, insatiable in his want for you.

Your nails raked down his muscular back and he moaned right into your mouth, utterly consumed by the feel of you as he rocked into you like it’d be the last time in his life. And you met him with each thrust, rolling your hips and feeling the mouth-watering friction of his abdomen against your clit every time.

“Come on, come on.” You urged him on raspily, sensing the familiar stutter in his rhythm, the way his fingers in your hair trembled. “I know you’re close, I’m right there with you. Let go, Gar…”

With a final shout, Garrick buried his face in your neck and released deep inside of you and as he reached down to touch you, you followed him right over the edge with a scream, your orgasm crashing over you like a thunderstorm.

Feeling the warmth of his come within you, your eyes fluttered closed as you both breathed in sync, unwilling to part yet as Garrick held you close like he never wanted to let go again.

“So perfect…” He mumbled against your skin and you giggled happily and drunk on pleasure.

You slumped down against him, trusting him blindly to catch you and he did. His strong arms held you close against his chest as his heavy exhales tickled the top of your head. You were boneless, completely happy and done with the world as long as your man held you and a sigh so wholly satisfied left your lips, it almost felt blasphemous.

A heaviness seeped into your body, but just as you wanted to hug Garrick and let yourself be carried to bed, he drew back. You whined, displeased as he slipped out of you, not understanding.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you yet.” He said with a simple shake of his head and slid down, his hands placing your bum back against the wall, one of them sliding underneath your thigh and lifting until he rested one of your shaky legs over his shoulder.

He got down on his knees.

“Garrick-“ Your eyes widened at the realization of what was about to occur, but it seemed like they hadn’t fed the returning soldiers at Riorson House yet. Because in the next second, Garrick was surging forward, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice nearly catapulting you into the next life.

You slammed your hand over your mouth, shrieking as he licked into you, his tongue dragging your combined releases over your spread folds before he suckled hard at your clit. He was all that held you up, his strength enough for the two of you as he devoured you without any saturation in sight.

Your hand was ripped away from your mouth and then, his glistening lips brushed over your knuckles, his eyes holding you captive as he slowly shook his head. “Let me hear you.”

Your answer was a broken moan, close to a blissful sob as he kissed and licked at you like his life depended on it, eager to taste every drop until you’d shatter underneath his skilled tongue.

“Fuck, Garrick-”

“Give me everything, baby.” He praised you, his hot breath fanning over your throbbing overstimulated clit for a moment as you panted and clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to try and keep up with him. “Such a good fucking girl, I missed you so much…”

“-missed you.” You gasped, twitching in his hold as he laid his tongue flat on you and licked a fat stripe upwards. And did it again and again.

A scorching heat tore through your stomach and it shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already there again, almost ready to jump over the cliff he had been leading you to.

Garrick, sensing your nearing release, looked up at you, his tongue still dancing around your clit as he laced your hands together and placed them both on the wall behind you.

“Every second I’m apart from you is still filled with you.” He vowed. “I love you.”

With one last stroke against you, you shattered apart. Unable to hold you up anymore, your legs gave in and Garrick caught you and pulled you against his chest as your second orgasm tore through you violently. His hands around your waist would likely leave marks later as you panted against his throat, trying to breathe through the last waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“Easy, love.” He murmured, peppering soft kisses over your temple, the top of your head and nose as you slowly calmed down. Garrick was so warm, a human furnace of a man, you felt your eyelids droop almost immediately, the position in his lap way too comfy to want to get up and clean yourself.

“I love you too…” You told him quietly, snuggling into his chest and relishing the closeness you had missed so dearly. You kissed his chest, right over his pounding, love-struck heart as he smiled warmly at you. “Welcome back.”

As the spice headache began to grip you, tears pricked your eyes. You didn’t bother biting them back. You let them overflow from your lids and drip down the sides of your face. Pathetic. That’s what you were. If the roles had been reversed, if you had been the one to die instead of the Mandalorian, Din wouldn’t burying himself alive in spice⏤ you were sure of that. But, you were weak, and you hated how broken the hole in your chest made you feel. It felt like you had a black hole where your heart used to be and every aspect of who you were was slowly being sucked away. 

The urge to reach for the remainder of the spice began to well up in you. As much as you hated who you had become, as pathetic as you felt, you knew the moment you lost yourself in glitterstim it wouldn’t matter. You wouldn’t care. You’d be back with Din. It was the only time you got to experience him like before. Any memory you tried to live through in reality was tainted with pain.

The sound of a commotion filled the air, but you ignored the noise and rolled over to find the leftover glitterstim. The den you used was filled with others searching for the same high as you, and often times their drama followed them into the space. It had nothing to do with you. 

You sat on your knees in front of the table beside you and began to prep the last of the glitterstim that you had. Footsteps neared and they didn’t stop until they stood beside you. You didn’t recognize the boots until one kicked away the small dish. The red powder spilled in a puff and panic seized your entire being. A curse couldn’t even leave your strangled lips as you lifted your gaze to glare at the man who stood above you.

Boba Fett had cleared the room with his presence alone. The Mandalorian stared down at you, arms crossed and stare hidden behind his helmet, and you shakily rose to your feet to shove him away. Boba caught you by the wrists, too weak from your last high to have any power, and his grip held on tight.

“Let me go.” You hissed.

“No.” Boba snapped. “What do you think you’re doing here, child?” You tried to tug away, but the man shook you once and you stopped. “You are better than this.”

“No, I’m not.” You shook your head as tears streamed down your face. “Please just let me go.” As your last spice dose began to wither away and sobriety began to clear your head, pain was returning. “Please don’t let me wake up, Boba. Please.”

Boba sighed and you hoped you had been pathetic enough that your pleas won him over, but instead he pulled you into his chest in a tight hold. There was no breaking out of it. You leaned your face against the painted beskar and began to shake as sobs racked your body. 

It took you a month to sober up, but the craving hadn’t gone away. It just became mildly manageable. You had Boba Fett and Fennec Shand to thank for that. He had returned to Tatooine to claim a kingdom, cutting down Bib Fortuna in the process, and after the switch over Fennec had discovered a rumor that you were living in a spice den. That’s how he had found you. Boba had dragged you back to Jabba’s old palace on the fringes of the Northern Dune and kept you by his and Fennec’s side. 

He needed allies and talent. You had always been a decent fighter and the time you spent with Fennec, training on the side as a means to sweat the spice out of your system, had honed your skills further. Now, you worked in Boba’s guard as he attempted to hold control as daimyo. According to Boba and Fennec, things had been better after they won a battle against Bane and the Pykes, but there was lingering resistance you now helped with.

You traveled down from your room dressed for the day until you entered the palace’s throne room. In the next hour or so, Boba would start seeing people which required you to stand by his side as a silent guard. Fennec had done so last time. However, instead of seeing the prep for the day you spotted Boba and Fennec arguing in hushed whispers off to the side. You let out a quick whistle and they both spun to look at you. Boba’s helmet was tucked under his arm and you could read the irritation on his face.

“What’s going on?” You got closer and double checked the blaster strapped to your thigh. “Everything alright?” They both gave conflicting answers, glancing at one another in silent argument, then back to you. You crossed your arms skeptically. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?”

Fennec shot Boba a hard look, and Boba sighed. He motioned toward you, “Come, child. We must talk.” Nervously, you drifted closer and Fennec oddly gave your shoulder a squeeze before wandering out. The show of concern made you more nervous than seeing them argue. Boba gave you a tight nod. “Fennec and I have kept a secret from you this last month. It was… wrong of us, but we decided it to be the best option while you overcame your addiction⏤ and you’ve done so well. We’re incredibly proud of you.”

Your lips curled up into a small smile. The pride him and Fennec showed you always warmed your heart. “Thanks, Boba. I owe it all to you guys.”

“No. We offered support, but this was your own show of strength.” Boba replied.

“Boba,” You said slowly, “You’re making me nervous now. Can you just say what you need to say?”

He gave you another nod and glanced down silently before bringing his eyes back up. Boba locked his gaze with yours and then spoke, “Din is alive.” You blinked in confusion. “He was actually here offering aid during the battle with the Pykes. Fennec was right. We should’ve told you sooner, but I… I wanted to protect you from that knowledge as long as possible.”

“What⏤ what are you saying?” You shook your head and stumbled back. “No, he died, Boba. After the Jedi took Grogu we⏤ we had a bounty go wrong. The ship we had was attacked on the tarmac. Din got me out but I watched…” The memory of him being stabbed through the chest still haunted you. “I watched him die.”

Boba shook his head. “He survived that attack.”

Your mouth went dry and you hated that the first overwhelming urge to hit you was to leave to find spice. After pushing that down, you were only left with bitter disappointment and nausea. Why hadn’t he come to find you? Maker, the guilt you felt after the attack⏤ of knowing that he had saved you but you couldn’t save him. A long forgotten conversation drifted to the forefront of your mind. After Grogu left, and it was just the two of you, he had tried to convince you to leave as well. Din stressed that you could return to your old life⏤ as if him and Grogu hadn’t fundamentally changed who you were to your core. You told him no. You said you wouldn't leave him.

“Why⏤” You breathed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because,” Boba shook his head, his irritation returning, “He is here. Din wants to see you.” You sucked in a sharp breath. “That is what Fennec and I were arguing about. She thinks it would bring you closure, but I think it’s a bad idea.”

“He’s… He’s out there?” You pressed. Boba nodded.

Your feet were moving faster than your thoughts. Boba was calling out after you, but you stayed silent as you pressed onward. The winding staircase leading up to the outdoor private tarmac felt shorter than it usually did. When the hot Tatooine air bit at your skin, you stopped. A ship was parked to the side⏤ a nice one at that⏤ but your gaze landed on a silver clad figure just up ahead. Light bounced off the beskar in a familiar way and the Mandalorian rested his hands on his hips in a matching familiar pose. His t-shape visor turned to glance your way and he did a double take.

You took a stumbling step forward, eyebrows furrowed. Your name said by him in a pained whisper. His arms fell to his side and he drifted closer to you. You recognized his modulated voice. Hearing him say your name was overwhelming. You never thought you’d ever hear your name in that voice again. Tears collected in your eyes, but with that suffocating sadness came a bubble of rage. It started in your chest, an uncontrollable flame, and then it began to spread. The flame turned to an inferno as it filled every inch of you. 

Quickly, you began to storm toward him, your name left his lips once more, and after a few steps you drew your blaster and fired. The red energy pinged off his chest and had him stumbling back with a grunt. With a frustrated scream, you pressed your finger against the trigger as rapidly as you could and watched as the blaster fire bounced off his chest, shoulder, and helmet. You were still storming toward him when your blaster overheated from the rapid succession of fire. Without hesitation, you hurled the blaster at his head as hard as you could. Din dodged under the blaster, but you closed the last bit of space and tackled him to the ground.

Your blade was still up in your room, but you knew where Din kept his. Straddling his hips, you grabbed the hilt of his blade from his boot and tried to bring it down. He blocked the blow and rolled the two of you over so he hovered over you. 

“Stop, please⏤” Din began, but you had learned a lot since that last mission. Using a trick Fennec had taught you, you hooked you foot around Din and flipped him over again. You tried once more to stab him, but he managed to block you once more. “Just let me explain⏤”

“No!” You screamed.

Din grunted and flipped you once more, but this time he pinned your wrists to the ground by your head and pressed the entire weight of his body and armor into your lower half. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Listen to me, please, I⏤”

“I hate you!” You screamed. Your chest heaved with sobs as you struggled against his hold. “I hate you! I hate you! You ruined me!” The words were barely intelligible with how hard you cried. “You ruined me! You ruined everything!”

The sound of Boba’s barking voice could faintly be heard and then Din rose off of you. He offered you a hand to pull you up, and you cringed away from it like it was a poisonous snake. Slowly, he let it fall to his side. You rubbed your face along your sleeve and it was only then you noticed the two of you hadn’t been alone during the fight. Din had been talking to someone you had just been so tunnel visioned you hadn’t noticed. Fennec stood off to the side holding a familiar green child.

“Grogu?” You gasped. The child responded in a string of babbling while holding his arms out in your direction. You picked yourself up off the ground and shoved past Din roughly. Fennec let Grogu fall into your arms and the child buried his face in the crook of your neck while you hugged him. He continued to babble and your hiccuping sobs worsened. Your eyes met Fennec’s, “Can⏤ Can I⏤”

“Go, child.” Boba spoke up from behind you and Fennec nodded in agreement.

Without sparing a glance toward anyone, you hurried back toward the palace entrance with Grogu in your arms.

“That…didn’t go well.” The very obvious words fell from Din’s mouth before he could bite them back.

Boba scoffed angrily, “Did you think it would go any other way, Djarin!?”

Din flinched and wished a sarlacc pit would just open up beneath him and eat him alive. Leaving you in the dark had been one of his worst regrets, on par with turning Grogu in for beskar plates, but at least in Grogu’s case he had returned for the child. When the adventure ended, when Grogu was safe with Luke Skywalker, Din thought it would be safer for you to leave him as well. He attracted danger wherever he went, and if you left him behind you could find a life for yourself. One you deserved. One he couldn't provide. During the last bounty he worked with you, he had made a fatal mistake. The last thing he remembered was getting you out of the way and then he awoke in a local healer’s encampment. By all measures, Din should have died. It was by simple luck alone that he didn’t.

He did go searching for you. Din did seek you out. 

But he found you on Tatooine working with a local moisture farmer and it looked so simple and safe that Din couldn’t bring himself to interrupt your life again. So, he left. Din wandered the galaxy working bounties by himself, and despite the fact that it was once his entire life⏤ he never felt more alone. Without you, without Grogu, Din felt like he was lost.

When he returned to Tatooine once more and Fennec sought him out, Din had decided to seek you out when the fight was over. But, then Grogu appeared out of nowhere and it derailed his plans. Knowing the Empire could still be seeking him out, Din thought it more important than ever to stay away from you. However, both him and Grogu noted your absence. Having Grogu back with him only amplified your loss.

“Did you think you’d be greeted with open arms?” Boba added.

“No. Of course not.” Din sighed. He knew this wouldn't go well, he really did, but he needed to see you. Maker, even as you tried to physically maim him all Din could think about was how gorgeous you were⏤ how much he missed you. 

Boba pointed at him, threateningly, “This was selfish of you, Djarin.”

“She missed him too.” Fennec argued.

“She mourned him.” Boba snapped back. “Nearly lost herself to spice because of his actions.”

Din stiffened. “What??” Fennec confirmed Boba’s words, explained how they found you, and Din wished he had just let you stab him. “No. She⏤ She was working on a moisture farm.”

“To start. And only to earn credits to afford spice.” Fennec sighed.

Boba went deeper into description of the state he had found you in, not leaving any detail out of the struggle it was for you to find yourself once more, and Din knew the man was doing it to hurt him. Din didn’t blame him. If Boba decided to pull out his blaster and end him⏤ Din wouldn’t argue otherwise. He didn’t know where to even begin, but he’d do whatever it took to bring you any shred of closure he could. Din knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he would travel the galaxy twice over if it meant bringing you peace.

On day 3 of knowing Din was alive, him and Grogu left Tatooine. Before going he asked to speak to you and you denied him. Din left you a note then disappeared into the galaxy. You tore the note to shreds, without opening it, and let the pieces fall from your balcony out onto the dry, desert wind.

On day 27, Din returned with Grogu. He brought with him the most colorful collection of flowers form a world you didn’t recognize and it was a sharp contrast to the shades of brown that made up the planet you now called home. Still refusing to see him, Fennec had delivered it to you and you let the bouquet fall into the rancor pit.

On day 34, Din sent you the first of many holo messages. Sometimes they were recordings of him just talking about his day, telling you a funny Grogu story, and sometimes it was a video of the child himself sitting in his lap babbling to the camera for minutes on end. The videos of Grogu were watched on repeat, but you didn’t delete the videos of Din alone.

On day 46, you left the planet as a favor to Boba. He had been doing business with a man who slipped away to Coruscant and he asked you to seek him out and retrieve the credits owed to Boba. It was an easy favor to finish, but you ran into Din and Grogu who were on a hunt themselves. You only shot him once, deliberately in the center of his beskar chest, and when he offered you a ride back to Tatooine you accepted. Only because you missed Grogu.

On day 71, Boba invited Din, with your permission, to the palace as he needed the additional muscle for a meeting. Din covered your shifts and you got to spend days with Grogu again. There was a night during this stay where the Mandalorian you had loved found you outside stargazing. You didn’t send him away as long as he promised not to speak. The quiet lasted a little over twenty minutes before you had to excuse yourself to cry in your room.

On day 111, Din asked for your help. He had a quarry hiding on Canto Bight and he needed someone less conspicuous to lead the man away from the crowds. You knew he could pay a random woman to do the task, but you agreed. Grogu stayed with Peli while you and Din had fun hunting a quarry. In the thrill of it all, you forgot this wasn’t like before⏤ you forgot you hated this man. On the way home, you ignored him entirely. 

On day 124, Din left you a message saying he was traveling to Mandalore to find redemption. You knew the planet was supposedly cursed, a shadow of what it once was, and no matter how much you didn’t want to feel it a ball of fear curled up inside of you.

On day 138, you met Bo Katan. Din brought her along on a visit. Boba disliked her, an old grudge he held firmly, and out of loyalty you treated her like the enemy. You hated her because Boba hated her. It had nothing to do with the odd flash of jealousy that stirred in you at seeing the Mandalorian woman stand next to Din. They looked like quite the pair.

On day 157, Din came to say good-bye.

Fennec had told you he was downstairs and you asked her to send him up to your room. That’s how you found yourself leaning against your balcony railing with Din Djarin only a few feet away. He crossed his arms as he spoke. “We’re planning to retake Mandalore.”  He shook his head. “I don’t know how much time that will take so I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Right.” You mumbled. 

A tense silence lingered between the two of you. Din shifted in place and your lips twitched up at the sight. It was always funny to you, seeing a man as outwardly intimidating as Din curl in on himself nervously. Like he was trying to make himself appear smaller than he was⏤ as if that could be possible. 

You cleared your throat. “You’ll pick me up a souvenir, won’t you?” Din chuckled. “I promise I won’t toss it to the Rancor.”

“Well, in that case, I will. Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” You shrugged and drifted just a bit closer. “So, are you and Bo Katan leading the charge?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It seems like the two of you make a great team.” 

Din tilted his head, just a bit, and you watched him drift closer to you. Closing the space between the two of you just a bit more. “You sound… jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoffed. “Of her?” Din nodded once. You shook your head. “I’m just worried you’re getting too attached. I did promise Boba that I’d kick her ass one day at my choosing.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

“Figured it was the least I could do.”

Another beat of silence.

Din sighed, “I am so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“Don’t.” You said quickly. “Don’t ruin this. I⏤”

“I know, but I need to say it. Just so you know. I’m not asking for forgiveness or⏤ or anything of the sort.” He said hesitantly as if waiting for you to cut in. You stayed silent and Din let out a soft breath of relief. “I’m sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life hating what I did to you. That regret, that shame, it won’t fade.”

You shook your head. “Din… What are we doing? What do you want?”

“It doesn't matter what I want.”

“But, it does.” You argued. “I’m trying to understand.”

Din shifted nervously again. “I… You mean so much to me, cyare. That has never changed. I did a selfish thing under the guise of protecting you. And even now, despite knowing that I don’t deserve to even look at you, I… I can’t stay away.” He bowed his head, hanging it shame. “You ask what I want, cyare?” Din finally lifted his head with a sigh. “You. The answer will always be you.”

“Din…” You mumbled.

“But I already said,” Din cut in quickly, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness or even your acknowledgment. I’m only… I will take whatever you are willing to give. Even if you only want me as someone you put up with annually. And if you tell me to leave and stay away, I will. I swear it.”

You missed him. That was painfully clear. It was as if every atom that made up your body was vibrating and begging to reach out to him. Slowly, you lifted your hand and settled your fingers on the center of his chest⏤ right over his iron heart. Din let out a staggering breath, as if he could feel you through his armor, and he settled his hand on top of yours. 

“What would you do to have me back, Din?” You asked.

“Anything.” Din breathed immediately. “Ask for the stars and they’re yours, cyare.”

You pressed your lips together, eyes darting around the visor staring at you, and you nodded, “What if I asked you to take off your helmet? If I asked to see your face?” Din stiffened, you could feel it under your hand, and you could hear him take in a slow, steadying breath. Seconds passed, then Din’s hand pulled away from yours to settle on the side of his helmet. Your eyes widened as he began to pull it up. Quickly, you grabbed his wrist and halted his movements before he could go any further. “You don’t have to do that, Din.”

“I said anything and I meant it.” Din replied firmly. “Anything, cyare.”

“I know. I believe you.” Your bottom lip quivered. You glanced up to try and keep the stinging in your eyes from turning into actual tears. Then you focused back on him and with a shaky voice requested, “All I want is a promise.” You swallowed the thickness in your throat. “Promise you won’t leave me behind again. Please.” 

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

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"Anakin. I need to get to him." Was all he said, but you could feel it. The young boy, Obi-Wan's padawan, had come back different this time. The last mission had changed him, somehow, but you could never imagine that this would be the result. "You must go. Take the younglings and go."

"I'll come back for you." He went to argue, but you were already moving, igniting your lightsaber and ushering the small group of children you had with you to the door. "I will come back."

Charging ahead, you could still hear the intense blaring of alarms coming from the speakers of the Jedi temple. There were flashes of lights, but you didn’t know what it meant, just that Obi-Wan told you to leave, and you trusted him. Troopers were shooting left and right, and you had no time to dwell on what was lost, on how many bodies you and the children passed by. You kept them behind you, striking out to take down three troopers guarding the next door. The children screamed, and you tried to calm them. They were only babies - the youngest could only just keep up on his own, stumbling his way through the middle of the group.

"I need you all to be very, very brave for the next fifteen minutes. Can you do that?" You had them standing off to the side, taking cover behind a wall and half blown off door.

"We can do it, Master." The oldest, only nine, stands at the front, arms protectively held in front of the younger ones. Another tear streams down your cheek at the sight.

"Of course you can. I know you can. We are going to get to the jet, the one we all used to watch the clones on perimeter check last week. Do you remember where that is?" All eight little faces nodded in understanding. Even at this age, you knew they would become great Jedi. "Okay, good. You stay here, and I will clear a path. Keep your minds open, and I will tell you when to run. The door will be unlocked. You go in and press the big red button, and it will take you to the safe base off-world. Now, when you get there-"

"But Master, you have to come with us!" A small boy calls from behind the arms of the oldest, his face bright red.

"I will try my very best, but Master Kenobi needs help, and I-" Swallowing the lump in your throat, you heard the blaster shots getting closer. "Get to that ship, press the red button, and go to the safe base. There will be people there that will help you."

"Yes, Master." They say in unison, and you reach out, squeezing them all in a short hug.

"You will all be amazing Jedi Knights one day, I know it. I am so proud to be one of your teachers." You turn and sprint down the hall, and feel your sadness turn to anger.

Red blaster shots sizzle and shatter against your blue saber, and you send them soaring straight back into their attackers. You swing and slice, using all that expert control you have honed over the past few years to cut the invaders into pieces. Your mind was full of screams, you could hear them even if you didn't know where they were coming from. Connections you had formed over decades were being ripped away, the Force running through your body feeling emptier by the second.

There was only one connection you were really focused on. You could still feel Obi-Wan; feel his heart racing as he ran through the halls on the other side of the temple. He hadn't told you everything, but he didn't need to. You could feel his genuine fear and guilt, and you knew it had to do with Anakin. That, and the way he gripped his lightsaber as he ran off, made you know this was serious.

The smell of death and burnt armour filled your senses, but you came up on the last trooper, not blinking as you took him down, and sent the strongest message you could to the kids, hoping they would run straight across the bridge and into the jet. From your position, you would be able to cover them with a blaster and watch them clear the bridge.

As eight little heads darted out and ran towards the jet, you saw three troopers come out the side door and start shooting immediately. Straight away, they shot at the children, without a second of hesitation. With your free hand, you froze the bullets in the air and sent them backwards, all the while laying out cover fire. The kids never stopped once, the perfect students they are, and disappeared into the jet. The sound of the engine roaring to life had you breathing a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as you watched the jet disappear into the galaxy, getting far, far away from here. You had to trust the people they met on the other side would take care of them.

With the children out and safe, you only had one thing on your mind. You used the Force to fly yourself up a few levels, and you stopped when you felt him. He was fighting, and losing. You could tell, you could feel the way he was backing up, almost hitting a wall as troopers surrounded him. You had never moved faster in your life.

Not sparing a second you threw yourself into the fight, slashing at white armor and hearing the moans of pain of the troopers you didn't completely finish off. Blaster shots rang in your ears, and you felt Obi-Wan's hand yank your forearm down, saving your life as you ducked out of the way.

"I told you to leave." He shouted, his eyes looking at you with soft adoration. Even with the harsh words, nothing about his tone says he wanted you to listen.

"When have I ever done what you told me to do?" Spinning around, you fought the troopers back to back, blue and red lights filling your vision. Having him at your back, solid and still fighting, took your breath away. With all the death and destruction that had erupted, either of you could have easily been lost, but he was here, still fighting for the light.

As the troopers numbers thinned, you both took the opportunity to gain ground. You knew you couldn't stay here, there would be nothing left of the temple in a few hours. Fire was burning somewhere down the hall, and if you didn't get to a ship soon, the hope you were letting simmer in your chest would be flattened, and you would both die here.

Obi-Wan took down the last trooper in eye sight, and he turned to where you were looking. The entire temple was on fire. Everything you had worked for, everyone you knew was dead or dying, every personal affect, every night spent alone meditating, or falling asleep in Obi-Wan's arms; it had all happened here. Your life was being set ablaze, and you watched as a giant panel of wall finally gave in, cracking and falling through to the ground below.

Obi-Wan's hand linked into yours, fingers threading together. He stood in front of you, the bright orange fire to his back. He was a mess, ash and blood over his face. It was horrific, to look at him like that, but you realised in that moment how lucky you were. As everything burnt around you, as your world caved in, Obi-Wan stood in front of it all, prepared to shield you.

You leant in and kissed him. You could taste the salt of his tears mixed with your own, but he kissed you back anyways. It was desperate and pleading, begging for forgiveness from each other for whatever atrocities you had committed. He pulls away just for a second.

"I have to kill him." He sobs, and slams back into you, this time his head tucking into the crook of your neck. There were a thousand things you needed to do right now, but being here with him, holding him was about the only thing you wanted to do. You know he means Anakin, you can hear it in his mind, and you cry with him, standing as the sounds of crackling metal echo all around you.

If he never pulled away, you would have stayed right there. In his moment, where his mind was completely open to you, showing you just how much he needed you, you would have stood there and burnt to the ground with him. But this was Obi-Wan, and he would never give up.

"We should-" You nod, knowing, and take his hand again, both of you sprinting to the maintenance hull. The screaming has stopped completely, which was almost worse than before, because you might be the only two people still alive in the temple. “My ship. Up there.”

“It’s all nearly gone.” You say, breathless and heartbroken, giving one last look to the Jedi temple you called home.

“My love… we- Stars. We have to go.” He’s tugging on your arm, and he is about the only person in the entire galaxy that could get you to move. So you do, climbing into the cockpit, and when you finally pull away from the temple, you burst into tears, Obi-Wan still clinging to your hand.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[three weeks later]

“Anything?” Obi-Wan shakes his head, banging the holo device on his hand.

“It must be the connection on this planet. We would know if they were...”

“We would know.” You had been trying to reach the off-world base for the past few weeks, but since landing on this small Outer Rim planet that neither of you even knew the name of, there had been no word of the younglings reaching them. You knew they had to lay low, stay off the grid as much as possible, so this is where you would wait. Stay safe, out of sight, and wait for word from the base.

“I fixed the compressor in the ship last night.” He puts the holo device down and stands, coming around the other side of the small fire you had made to sit next to you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I know. I couldn’t either. I listened to you cursing the transmission wires for half an hour.” He cracks a smile, the sight making you feel warmer than the fire is.

“You could have helped.” He nudges into you playfully with his arm, but doesn’t pull away, keeping himself as close to you as possible on the log seats.

“I was hoping you would come back to bed.” He stops breathing for a second beside you, swallowing hard. You love that even after all the years you have spent together in secret, you still have this effect over him. “You know, I was thinking...”

“Oh dear.”

“Shut up. I was thinking about how we always talked about doing this.” He cocks his head, an arm wrapping around the small of your back.

“Landing on a planet we have never heard of and listening to me fix compressors?” This time, you are the one to shove him, but your hand grabs the one of his snaked around your waist, and pulls him back.

“You are such a smart-ass. No, I mean getting away. Being alone. I always said you needed a holiday.”

“You did.” His head falls onto your shoulder, and you can’t help but press a kiss to his forehead.

“I always pictured us like this, spending hours doing nothing but being together. Not worrying who was watching, how we would look.” You drift into silence, realising that now there really wasn’t anyone who would reprimand you. Nothing of the Jedi order you knew was left, except for the man in front of you. This is what the last three weeks have been like. Both of you were so used to hiding what you held between you, you had never experienced being able to just be together. 

The looming fear and devastation was more prevalent in the first two weeks, both of you just simply holding each other while you mourned the loss of everything you had ever known, but as this last week closes out, you have almost fallen into a new routine. Training, trying to make contact with the base, and touching each other in every spare moment, no prying eyes to shelter from. Back in the temple, you had never even spent a full night together. Usually, Obi-Wan would sneak into your quarters in the dead of night, hands sliding around your body, pulling you from sleep and driving you insane again and again, and just as you had gotten comfortable to sleep again, he would have to disappear, not able to risk being caught leaving in the morning.

  Here, on this desolate, bright green planet, there was none of that. He laid next to you the entire night, and was there in the morning when you woke, watching as the sun rose and lit up his face. The only time he really slept was just when the sun was rising, like he knew he wouldn’t have time to dream.

“We need to go for water tomorrow. I saw a lake overhead when we were landing. We will have to check the traps from yesterday as well, the ones near the mountain.” His head had turned so his nose was lightly touching the crook of your neck, his words kissing their way across the sensitive skin. It made you shiver, and Obi-Wan looked up slightly, his lips just an inch from your neck. “Are you cold?”

“If I say yes, will you come closer?” You feel him laugh against you, and his other arm comes across him to touch your waist.

“I don’t think I could get any closer, my love.”

“I can think of a few ways.” You expect a gasp of surprise, like you so usually got from him. Even after all your time together, he was still almost shocked when you came on to him. Instead, though, he presses a kiss to your collarbone, and you almost melt into the floor.

“I will never be able to thank you enough, for coming back for me.” He kisses you again, a little higher up this time, and your brain buzzes. It was the first time since you landed that he had brought the night up.

“It- Obi-Wan. Of course I would come for you, I couldn’t-” His teeth graze against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You are the only person I could focus on. The only one I tried to hear.” His hands tightened on your waist, and he pulled you into his lap in one movement. Your shins were slightly digging into the wood on either side of his body, but his mouth on you had you forgetting all about it.

“You are all I can think about. I needed to know you were safe, and then you came back and I thought-”

“If you say you thought I would die, I’ll hit you.” He nips at the most sensitive spot of your neck in reprimand, and you moan as he kisses and sucks, leaving marks in a way that has you squirming.

  “My sweet girl.” You hear him murmur against your skin, and you thread your fingers in his hair. You rock your hips just once, and he moans loudly against your neck.

“Obi, if you want to talk about it-”

“I don’t want-” He kisses your jaw “to talk. What I want-” He switches sides “-is” kissing slightly higher, nearly on your cheek “-to hear you say my name. How you do when I-”

“Oh, fuck Obi-Wan.” His hand had slipped right in between your bodies, fingers lightly brushing along your core, already finding you soaking for him.

“When I do that.” Your mind was putty in his hands, and he applied a little more pressure as his lips found yours. He kissed you deeply, with the kind of force that reminds you just how long it’s been since he’s done so. You give him everything you have, needing to tell him so much, but not having the words. He stands and steps over the log, a squeal of surprise making you break the kiss, and he laughs. The sound is soft behind the crackling of the fire, and you tuck your head into his neck, the smell of fire, wood and him filling your senses.

“Walk faster.” Your hands grab his jacket harshly and pull, and he stops halfway up the ramp to the ship.

“I could just drop you.” He’s still not moving, so you move your hands off his jacket and grab his face, pulling him into a kiss. Your tongue moves with his, easily taking control in his surprised state, and soon you feel him moving so fast you could swear he was sprinting, nearly slamming you both into the rear wall. You can’t stop the smile that breaks the kiss, and his teeth bite down softly on your bottom lip, snapping your attention back.

  He snakes a hand up behind your head to duck you down as you walk through the doorway to your shared room. This ship was Obi-Wan’s, so there was only one bed, but considering how you have been sneaking into each others rooms like teenagers for two years, the sight is a welcomed one.

He lays you down gently, slotting himself between your legs and crawling back up to your mouth, kissing you slow and sweet. You moan into him, his hips rolling against you, and the kiss breaks when he opens his mouth to say your name.

“I-” His eyes were wide, almost like he was panicking, pupils flitting all over your face. “You need- I love you. You know that I love you, yes?”

“Of course. I love you, too.” Your eyebrows furrow at his worry, and he squeezes his eyes shut to kiss you before pulling away abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

“If I were here with anyone else, I would be lost. Everything is gone, and nothing would be- nothing would make sense. Being a Jedi is all that I am. Without it, I had nothing. Until you.” You nearly cry at his words, but he rolls his hips again and it makes you see stars. He begins to take his jacket off. “You are everything to me. I want you to know that. You are the reason I am able to think, to think of something after all of this. To even think of living a life after so much…” He fades off, struggling to focus with how your hand is tugging at the hem of his pants.

“I know, Obi-Wan.” You did. Through the Force, you could feel everything. His grief at losing Anakin, his grief at losing everyone, losing the life he has known. The anger at the Sith, the dark side, at himself. You could feel his sadness, the waves of it as it came and went, but most of all, you could feel his heart, and how it beat for you, and only you.

  Everything he was, everything you both were has been taken, but the one thing they could not take is this. You let him feel your energy, how you understand him, understand all that he is feeling and mirror it in your own heart, and he begins to take your shirt over your head.  

“You are gorgeous, my love.” He looms over you, taking his time drinking in the sight below him, but denies himself from running his hands over you. He wants to wait, wants you desperate and whining for him. You can read his mind now, you always could like this, just as he could read yours.

There must be something about being with another Jedi, especially ones as connected as you and Obi-Wan, but it was like the doors to your minds were pulled down, and you became one. It had always been like that between you, even from the first time.

  Rough fingertips scrape just barely along the skin above your jeans, and he undoes the buttons and slides them down painfully slow, all the while he has you fidgeting, trying to hurry the process. He sits back on his knees to take his own shirt off, and as soon as he leans down on his forearms to kiss you again, you take the chance and run your hands down his back, almost massaging with long strokes.

“My sweet girl. So good to me.” He was rolling his hips harder, having you arching your back to meet him while he moved his mouth down your neck.

“Anything you want, Obi. I’m here.” He sighs and leans most of his body weight on top of you, and you can feel him finally start to relax. You know you both should be concentrating on a million other things right now, dealing with your grief and confronting the hazy path of your futures, but right now all you wanted was to be with him, and you could hear in his mind how very badly he echoed the same thought.

He laughed as you fidgeted below him, a sound you were worried for a while would be lost forever, and it warmed every part of your bare skin. Hands tangled in hair, his body pressing into yours, your minds bleeding into one space neither of you had full control over. You were both completely at each other’s mercy, the ultimate equals in this moment.

“Please.” You breathed into him, and although he loved nothing more than taking the utmost time with you, you were both just as desperate to be close to each other. This fragile thing was the life raft you clung to in the darkness of the Force, and he was what drove you back to the light.

He kisses you again, and you feel his hand trailing softly down your tummy, over each ridge and curve like he wants to feel every part of you, remind himself you were here, warm and alive and practically panting for him. He guided himself into you slowly, as he always did, eyes never leaving yours. You both sigh in relief and ecstasy as he hits the deepest part of you, and you can see how Obi-Wan's eyebrows knit together, how his mouth opens just slightly to breathe your name before attaching to your neck. He leaves a trail of proof he was there down to your breasts, sliding out of you and setting a slow, earth shattering pace.

One of his hands comes back up your body to lock his fingers in your own, and he plants a soft kiss on your brow before catching your eye.

“I love you.” He gasps and thrusts into you again, getting a little faster when he hears your desperate sounds.

“Stars- I love you. Always.” The hand not holding yours slips underneath your arched back, forearm bracing you as he increases his speed.

“Does this feel good, love?” Your lip between your teeth muffled your response, a strained ‘mhmm’ ending off in a moan of his name. He kisses you again, the hand locked with your own squeezing gently, making your eyes open. “Fuck. That’s it.”

“S’huh?” You were so blissed out, you had no idea what he was saying or what he wanted you to do, but your eyes nearly crossed when he picked up the pace again, the sound of him hitting you impossibly deeper almost drowned out in the sound of you screaming his name.

“Kee-eep. Keep saying my name.” He groans into your ear, body tightening against yours.

“Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan.” It’s the only word you can say, all you can think of as he sets your body alight, each drag of his cock making every nerve ending stand on the edge. You weren’t going to last much longer, and managed to say his name one final time before you toppled into your release.

With a gasp he cums straight after you, the feeling of your warmth squeezing tight around him mixed with the euphoria you projected through the Force all too consuming. He knew he sounded desperate, the way he moaned out your name, but you stroked his hair and held him, rocking your hips in time with his as you both rode through your highs at the same time. It was as close to being on spice as Obi-Wan would ever get, and he doubted anything but you would make him feel this good.

“You are truly the most beautiful person I have ever seen.” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and you can see his eyes caressing down your body, liquid heat spreading through your veins under his gaze even in the darkness. He kisses your collarbone, and you know there are hickeys there, but you were on a desolate planet with no one to see you, and you would wear them with pride anyways.

“I love you, Obi-Wan. We will figure this out. You and me. I promise.” He lays down beside you, and you tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear.

“With you, I have no doubt.” His face disappears from view as he tucks himself into you, head buried under your chin. He’s saying something but you can no longer hear it, just the feeling of his words, the vibration of it against the base of your throat, and knowing he was there is enough to send you to sleep. You wake before him, to the holo device beeping rapidly. It’s a message, confirming all eight children had made it safely to the base, and they would wait for your reply on their next move.

When Obi-Wan woke, there was more messages on the holo device than you could keep up with. Scattered Jedi and allies all over the galaxy, confirming their position, and waiting for orders. You looked at Obi-Wan, face framed by the morning sunlight, and smiled.