Don't push the button

The steam from the fresher begins to pour and twist through the doorway where you now lean. You casually start undoing your pants. You let out a small laugh and shake your head. You feel Din's gaze surveying you. He's now taken the liberty to use your nail brush. You recall the state of his hands when you had slipped his gloves off.

"Maybe I should let you finish bathing yourself and go clean up the mess in the kitchen…"you say through a grin, looking at the aftermath of his drastic haircut on your floor. "You seem…resurrected." Your pants fall to your ankles and you step out.

His silhouette quickly becomes obscured by fog forming on the shower door. He's under the water scrubbing at his legs now, and in-between, "Laugh all you want, but you underestimate the Cin Vhetin, it's a very powerful thing Mesh'la, and I don't think it's done."

Your shirt is over your head and face, blocking your vision when you hear the click of the shower door. Wet, hot hands are on your waist pulling you forward. The water tickles as it drips down your dry skin. You struggle to get your shirt over your head, flicking your arm free from the fabric. You find yourself fumbling as your vision is filled with his wet form. Din's broad chest. He holds your neck and your waist as his lips envelop yours. You're blinded by his desire and your willingness. Din uses his newest skill almost masterfully as his tongue begs entrance to your mouth. You thought you knew him but it's becoming clearer he's deprived a part of himself from you. His base desire. He's hungrier than you. You held back earlier unsure if he was ready. Your judgment is poor. Perhaps it's you that wasn't ready.

Water drips off him, making puddles on the floor as he turns you around kissing you anywhere he pleases now. His hands and body have you trapped. Your body sways against him. You feel the edge of the shower with your heel. Din guides you and you step back into it, for a brief moment you are immersed in the warm falling water. Still in your underpants, you reach back and unclip your bra. Din puts his arms on either side of the tiled wall pinning you, peppering you with kisses as the water bounces off his backside. You breathe in the steamy air, unable to tell where his warm breath begins and the steam ends. The undergarment crumples at your feet. He kisses your pulse points. You exhale, "Din," You watch his face. He pauses to peer into your eyes, an animalistic intensity brews behind his. You push your face towards Din for a desperate kiss, he pulls back. He stops before he reaches your lips. He breathes onto your throat, his nose drags slowly along your jaw.

He pants, "Let me just look…maker, do you know how many times I imagined you?" His voice out of the helmet stirs you.

Images flash in your mind of all the times you imagined his strong arms laying you down in your bed. You shuffle through all the different faces you created, settling on his, imagining him kissing the length of your torso, nuzzling your breasts. You replay the scenario of Din finally getting to feel and taste you. You swallow, adjusting your hips as your panties are soaked through, "Imagined me how Din?"

"Bent over your workshop counter, ass up and moaning my name," He leans his forehead on yours and smirks. Water runs off his shaved head, dripping down his face. He lingers before he speaks again, "But I couldn't bring myself…you're so gentle and good and I'm–" he drags his rough knuckles down your neck spreading his hand across your chest, with enough pressure to keep you still. His mouth is on the shell of your ear "–I'm not."

"Is that so? What about your Cin Vhetin Din? Weren't you just asking for my grace? I think you should at least try," You grab his now pristine hand from your chest and guide his fingers to your mouth where you wrap your lips around the index, sliding it in and out. "This isn't a Twi'lek healing bath. You're in my house." Your mind floods with thoughts of all the nasty things Din Djarin has done across the galaxy to people who aren't you. "What's a God going to do for you that I can't, or did you forget that line already?"You sass. "And what a line it was."

He breathes deep, and gives you a look of skepticism. Water droplets jump and dance off his broad shoulders. You look him up and down, he's still partially erect. "I…" He squints, "It seems to have worked, you're in here with me." You're just noticing the other tattoos, an intricate geometric design wrapped around his entire left calf and shin. And something in a language you can't read in white ink on his chest, near his heart, barely noticeable. It almost resembles scars. Time is suspended as you continue to unveil the man beneath the beskar, however, your foolish heart beats slower now. The fire that was building inside you is contained for the moment.

He handles his emotions in a complicated way, that's how he ended up at your door tonight. But a dominating man in bed, a man who's had many partners, this, you should have expected but your delicate fantasy prevented. "I had this…I thought…" You bite your lip trying to find the words, your hands hover over him, somewhere between touch and reservation. "I've only ever had a few sexual partners and it's just become clear you've probably had more opportunities than me…but, am I wrong?" His silence confirms your already fractured delusion about Din, that his credence meant he was something akin to a virgin. A small laugh crawls up your throat and comes out a huff. It's not jealousy, but it might be. Embarrassment, likely. The tense, thick air shifts.

He says nothing. One of his hands absentmindedly comforts the large colorful bruise he has on his side, the other goes to run through hair that he forgets isn't there anymore. The dimple on his right cheek is about to reveal itself as he stifles a grin. The sort of grin he gave his nanny when she caught him in a lie as a young boy on Aq Vetina. Of course, he walked you right into that one, the number of times his hand lingered at your lower back without ever touching you. The few times he ever let you even see his skin. His palm tingles with the recollection.

"Is this jealousy?" His eyes crinkle as he tilts his head. Demonstrating to you, all of the expressiveness he hides under that helmet.

You shrug and roll your eyes, "No." He owes you nothing, you choke down your insecurities. He came and found you. Din returns to you. He's asked for your grace. He looks at your bare chest while he runs a finger across your clavicle, as if he's pondering where to touch next.

You pull his other hand away from his injury and gently lay yours over it. He hisses through his teeth and twitches at the touch. You run the back of your hand over his stomach as you look up into his eyes. Softly, "You said you weren't injured."

His voice is so low you almost can't hear him, "It's nothing." He swallows as the shower continues to beat down.

"You're going to be gentle with me." You wrap your arms around his long middle and kiss his chest. "Can you? Be gentle with me Din? Take me soft and slow?" You feel all of him against you. Your fingers trace a scar on his lower back.

His chest rises and falls, "Of course Cyar'ika." He props his long arms back up on the wall behind you while you hug him.

Din looks at you with a longing in his eyes, you read it more like a debt. You look at the bruise under his arm and see the deep purple flesh, swollen and severe. You look back at his eyes, back and forth between the two.

He moves carefully to hold your face. You cradle his hand in yours as you kiss his palm. "Cin Vhetin, you make it sound like some sort of holy rite."

"It can be." He murmurs, his fingers gently touch your hip.

You slip your wet underwear off, tossing it over and out onto the floor with a slap. "Then let's see it through." You look at the splotch of grease on his shoulder and something dried that might be blood that's not his, above his hip. You continue to marvel at the disaster even as it wanes.

Din straightens and rubs his freshly shaven face with both hands, "Am I dreaming? Is this real?" He says watching you reach for the soap and rag on the shower shelf.

"If you're asleep then so am I." He leans one hand flat against the tile. You scrub the rag over his broad back, noticing more bruises. You admire all of his backside as he hums at the touch. The mythosaur tattoo is a little faded. "How old were you when you got the mythosaur?"

"19."

"The Mudhorn?"

"It's new."

"The one on your leg," You continue to wipe away the evidence of whatever violence he committed before arriving at your door.

"It was a gift from a tribe I helped on a scughole a couple years back. Felt wrong to refuse the honor," He shrugs.

You trace your finger over the mythosaur. You watch his shoulder give a slight spasm at your touch. Then you take the rag to the back of his neck. The prismatic bubbles run down his skin, pooling at your feet. The remaining tension mixes with it and runs down the drain. The soap feels silky and its scent understated with a hint of floral and citrus.

"Maker that smells nice…I've missed that."

"You like my soap? You can smell through the helmet?"

"Yes, but not like this, this is…incredible," You can't see the way his eyes glint at the memory of you.

You stop scrubbing. You set the rag down and touch the crosshatch of old scars at the nape of his neck that his haircut reveals, "How did you get these ones?"

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Someone tried to remove my helmet, with a blade. A long time ago."

"Ouch. Did they do it?"

"No Mesh'la, hence the word tried. I forgot those scars were there." You love the way his voice echoes in the shower chamber. The timbre of it fills you.

"Right." Your hands grace the muscles of his back again and then touch the bruise on his side, it feels warmer than the rest of him. "I won't ask how you got this, does it hurt?"

He weighs your question in his mind against everything else the evening has brought him, "Yes, a little." He lays his hand over yours before you slide yours out from under it. Din can't pull his eyes from you.

You shut the water off. Opening the door you hand him a towel.

He says before he takes it, "Mesh'la, If I made you feel…unimportant…those other people…were temporary–" he sighs "–you're all I have, I'm sorry."

Your heart flutters at that confession and if he had his helmet on he maybe could have heard it skip a beat. "I made assumptions about your creed. You've nothing to apologize for."

He takes the towel from you. You could watch his face all night, exploring every eye movement, mapping his expressions. You pat yourself dry and watch him do the same.

He runs the towel over his head, "Maker that feels weird." He wipes his hand over the large mirror above the sink to clear the fog and wraps the towel around his waist. It hangs taught. His gaze is fixed on himself as he turns his head side to side. Moving in close he looks at his eye, the red spot in the white of it still apparent. He rubs his head and touches his face, taking his time, it's been ages since he's taken one of those long, hard looks in the mirror. The kind of look where if you stare too long it stops being your face and you start seeing what everybody else sees. Or what you think everyone sees. And in Din's case, what only a handful of people have seen.

You leave him for a moment and grab the bacta gel off your kitchen table. Your wet feet tip toe around the mess, returning to Din continuing his existential exploration. It's a dangerous game to play with the mirror. So you interrupt him. "Have you ever had your hair this short?" You stand behind him.

His lips curve into a crooked smile as he rubs, "Short yes. But this is beyond." He lets out a breathy laugh as he tries to connect the reflection in the mirror with the persona inside. "I look…mean."

You put your hand over your mouth, stifling your thoughts. His eyes flick over to you.

"What? I know that look, say it," He says, looking from himself to you.

You shrug. "Honestly, I didn't mean for it to be that close of a cut, I got the settings wrong on the thingy and I went with it. You said 'different' and your hair was a wreck. So…" you shrug again and flip your palm up.

Din crosses his arms in front of himself with a small wince. "You think it makes me look mean. You do." You can't help but notice the way his biceps bulge with the action. "It's okay, it's what I wanted," He says dismissively.

You don't answer, instead you open the bacta and take Din's arm guiding him to hold it up. He watches you closely, silently, as you rub the ointment over his injury. You make careful, soothing circles on his side. Din hisses and then clears his throat. He doesn't press you for a response. You circle until the medicine is absorbed. Despite the hot shower Din's body breaks out in a chill. His hair stands on end. You both fall silent, simply and naturally, it's always been that way. You never felt the need to fill his silence in your shop and now this hushed moment feels like a meditation.

"I think this ritual is complete." You lay a small quick kiss on his shoulder as he drops his arm. Every moment you've ever had wishing you could see him like this and touch him is brewing a storm inside you.

He tilts his head, "You didn't answer my question."

You take his hand, he weaves his fingers in yours. He follows behind you towards your bedroom. The shades are drawn and the bedside lamp glows amber. You take his other hand as you face each other. Wrapped in your towels. You kiss Din's fingers lightly before letting them go. He doesn't touch you. He rests his hands on his hips, watching you. Your fingertips crawl up his soft stomach to his chest where you reach up and hold either side of his jaw. Your thumb grazes his mouth. He is still. You take in his details. You peer into his brown eyes, falling into them. You hold his eye contact. He blinks slowly and breaks first, looking towards the door.

You practically whisper, "Look at me." His eyes creep back to meet yours. "You look-" you bite your lip "-very…desirable." He raises one eyebrow as you pull him towards you. His body is loose, he shows you his dimple again. "I know you're not mean. You're a good man Din. Do you think you're mean?"

"Only when I need to be, or want to be." He puts his hand on your hip, his fingers caress the towel. His voice is quiet, he leans in to whisper in your ear, "I'll be gentle…I want to be gentle."

"Am I really all you have?"

"Yes, I'll be gentle."

You undo your towel so it drops to the floor. Din leans down and soon enough you're weightless in his arms. You watch his face as he lays you on the bed. You grin and start to giggle but stop yourself.

Din tilts his head enough, you answer, "It's just…if you only knew how many times I imagined this."

His towel drops as he crawls over you, his broad body hovers, "You're so beautiful and good to me. I was afraid Mesh'la." His hand drifts across you and hovers over your breast.

"Of?"

"Hurting you," He hesitates before he gently kneads your breast, he lays his lips on your clavicle. Feather light kisses. He takes the word gentle and turns it into a poem on your body. Composing without words a declaration of gratitude. His mouth trails down, and settles on your nipple, his lips linger there, savoring you. You hum as he does so with the right amount of force. Din moves to your other breast. You become more weightless with each touch. Your arms rest above your head as you open your body up for Din to explore.

You murmur, "You could never." You gasp and moan as you feel his index finger circle your clit and tease your entrance.

"I've been dying to hear you make that sound for me," He kisses hard in-between your breasts and moves down. You spread your legs further as he lays more thoughtful kisses on your stomach and you laugh when he hits a ticklish spot. He lets out a quick, breathy laugh of his own, flashing his perfect smile. Din was right, maybe this is a dream. You reach down and put your hand on his head, the fuzz is incredibly soft but you wish he still had those curls you could grab. He growls low at the sensation, so you move both hands to the top of his head as he kisses your inner thigh. You swell, aching and wet now.

Din pauses as he looks at your folds. He confesses, "Mesh'la. I've never…"

"Mmm, that's okay. You don't have to D–" but before you can finish his mouth is on you. He drives his tongue into you, the hot muscle lapping at you with a ferocity you weren't ready for. "Yes." You breathe out and moan again. He pushes and sucks at your clit. A high pitch escapes from your throat and Din stops and smiles, he's so clever of course he figured it out immediately. "Don't, don't stop." He drives his mouth into you again, you quiver. Your body tremors as he teases the bundle of nerves. Pulsing and aching, his lips wet and glistening with you he kisses your mound. His fingers at your entrance he circles with the middle and slides it in. You murmur, "Din, I want you so bad, I've wanted you for so long. Oh, maker…" you gasp, he pushes and swirls as his lips are back on your hard nipple. Your eyes closed. "...I imagined you for so…oh Gods." You lay your hands on his back. Your nails dig in as his fingers curve inside you, finding the perfect spot. You can't see the red indentations you leave on his back.

"Now who's not being gentle?" He pulls his finger out, looks up at you, you watch him put it in his mouth and slowly drag it back out in-between his lips. He's stunning and you have no words.

You grab him pulling him closer, you kiss him, your tongue pushing into his, he takes your lead. Your bodies are still warm from the shower, your skin begins to bead with sweat from your heat. Your hand finds his length. It's hard and it's thick. Your thumb makes slow circles at his leaking tip. You let go as Din puts his hands under your ass to pull you in close as you wrap your legs around him. The soft blankets under you start to shift and scrunch. His hard cock grazes your stomach, leaving a trail on your skin as it leaks.

His voice buried in your neck, "I'm going to bury myself so deep in you. But not until you tell me to."

You reach in-between and guide him yourself, you rub him over your wet folds, he growls. You stop at your entrance, "Fuck me." Din pushes, easing his way in. He tangles his fingers in the blanket as he grips.

He moans, and breathes his words into your ear, "Cyar'ika, I always knew your cunt would be as gorgeous as the rest of you."

You can't speak as you squeeze around him. Your breathy vocals climb an octave as he settles inside of you. He pushes as you cling to him, he presses you into the pile of pillows at the head of your bed. His strong arms pinning you.

"I'll be gentle." He pushes again, burying himself further, he reaches for your breast. He kisses your neck. You breathe into his ear as he pulses into you slowly and with perfect rhythm. Just as promised. You're swollen around him and your body hungers. You need him.

"Harder, Maker, show me what you got."

He purrs as he pulls out slowly, "Oh Mesh'la".

You reach up and hold his face as he has one eyebrow cocked, you bite your lip, your chest heaves.

He crawls off you and off the bed that sits high in the air. He stands, hands on his hips, rock hard. He grabs your legs and pulls you across the bed. You slide easily as he holds you under your knees to make you straddle him. You watch him take himself in his palm as he strokes twice before finding your willing entrance again. You gasp as he slides in with ease. You wrap your legs around him, and bury your hands under your ass and grip the side of the mattress. Din thrusts hard, again and again. You watch his performance until you can't. "Maker, yes!" You swell around him, burning, you move one leg, Din takes it and holds it over his shoulder. You moan and your vocals climb as the position makes you tighter. Din moves in you and a part of his sacred, ancient creed has wrought itself upon this union and he's right, it's powerful. Din grunts pushing harder and faster, thrusting you into oblivion. "Din, Din, Din!" Your hands come out from under you and grip at the blankets as your eyes squeeze shut and all the stars in the galaxy explode into view.

He grunts as he pushes his length all the way inside you, one more time, ten more times, you've no idea. He's careful and precise, and intense. The carnal slap and suction of Din's thrusts keep you clinging to this reality. Your breasts bounce and your soft limbs ripple in his wake.

You breathe out his name in a tone you only create when you're overwhelmed with rapture, "Din!"

His hands grip your hips, his fingers leaving impressions on your skin as he pours himself into you, filling you, he shutters and releases a guttural groan. The veins in his neck expand as his muscles seize in the moment of his release. You hear his animal escape leaving the man panting. He shivers as he loosens his hold. He bends over you, kissing the space between your breasts and you reach up and touch his hair. Scratching your fingers along his scalp down to his shoulders, he moans. He kisses your neck as you feel him slide out of you.

He kisses down your stomach, his flushed skin is hot. He breathes heavily.

You're in the ether of this space. The rest of your being is suspended somewhere in this room and you haven't had a chance to find it when you feel Din's mouth in-between your legs again.

"Oh…oh Din! Mmmm, you really d–on't", your breath is taken away as the man licks at your dripping cunt.

"We taste so good cyar'ika," Din says, his voice muffled into you.

"Gods." You say before you gasp as Din sucks on your swollen sensitive clit. It's too much, you plead, "Din, I, maker I…" he pushes and sucks and you see something divine in your vision as a tear escapes out of the corner of your eye down your temple. Din watches you flutter.

You puff the words out, "Cin Vhetin."

"Now you get it." He says as he comes up from in-between your legs, wiping his mouth.

….

Your whole body tingles with a vibration. You feel the smile on your face as you catch your breath, eyes closed. Din stands watching you come down from euphoria.

You barely hear him leave and you barely feel the warm rag in-between your legs as he cleans you up. You cover your face with both hands as you bite your lip. Fighting back your elation.

"Mesh'la? Are you alright?" Din picks you up and sets you back down on the pillows. Your hand is still covering your eyes, hiding the tears that are escaping. "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

You shake your head no and then nod yes. You sniffle before you speak, "I'm fine. Din."

"Then these are happy tears?"

"Yes," You wipe your eyes and finally look at him. He's laying on his side next to you. His skin still flushed from his hard work. "I…It was just…really good."

A slow smile spreads across his face as his thumb catches a stray tear. "Mesh'la," He calls you sweetly.

You roll onto your side and reach up to cup his cheek. "Are you okay? Did it work…the Cin Vhetin." You scoot closer and run your hand over his head, holding the back of his neck, your thumb runs along a scar.

Din leans in and kisses your cheek. His lips on the shell of your ear, "More than you could possibly know." He pulls your hand away and places it over his heart. You feel the slight raise in the skin of the mysterious tattoos on his chest.

Din lies back propping an arm under his head. You look at the markings unsure if you should ask but he volunteers.

"It's Mando'a."

You lay your hand over it.

"I met…now…don't get jealous…" Din grins.

You roll your eyes, "Please."

"I met a man…we got close but knew it couldn't last." Din gives you a glance and a beat. You don't flinch.

"In his tradition, you tattooed the names of your ancestors in white ink on your skin to keep them near, to watch over you. He gave me these as a parting gift. My parents' names."

"That's beautiful. I…I don't have any parting gifts."

"You've given me more than I could ever expect already. I owe you Mesh'la. Besides, who said I'm leaving?" He kisses your forehead.

"Stay as long as you like Din Djarin." You say with sweet smile as you crawl off him.

Din watches you leave the room. You relieve yourself in the fresher and then go to the kitchen. Din hears you moving things around. He gets up to find you, naked, sweeping his hair up off your kitchen floor. Two glasses of water sit on the table. Clearly you got distracted on the way back to the room. He wants to stop you and tell you it can wait until morning. But, a wave of contentment falls over him. He stands in the dark shadow of your bedroom doorway and watches you complete the mundane task. Oh yes, he's staying, as long as you'll have him.

...