forever is the sweetest con

It was heartbreaking watching him limp to your small makeshift home, clutching his side, grunting with each step. He was slumped against his seat, taking deep breaths in as he attempted to catch his breath from his latest hunt. 

You stare from across the room, arms crossed as he hisses when he places his chest plate back onto his flight suit, just skimming over his tender wound.

He looks up from the too small common area sofa, spreading his legs and trying to find a comfortable position to relax. You were glaring and his whole body suddenly tenses, he straightens up again, leaning his forearm on his knees, the wooden coffee table Karga had gifted you not so long ago messy with discarded weapons. 

He feigns being okay, fighting the urge to not yawn or close his eyes, knowing he would fall asleep in an instant if he would allow that to happen.

Your gaze falls on his side for the last hundredth time, making you purse your lips in thought. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the cushion creaking from his weight.

You definitely need better furniture, something sturdier for when he comes back home from his jobs. For you, they might be just fine, for him though, it feels as if he were sitting in a child’s play set. You made note of it since you moved in, chiding him in the way he took over the whole couch with just his thighs after having him set up your bedframe down the hall. 

He’s working on getting enough credits to refurbish the place. Make it feel more like a home. Unless you didn’t see this place as his home. He hesitated to claim the space as his own. 

His head swirls. Your relationship has never been brought forth to discussion, and you basically live here more than he does with how he’s always scrounging around the galaxy most days of the month.

Was he a guest at your home? An absent partner? A nuisance? It only prompted him to want to leave again, providing more credits to distract himself from the thought of possibly meeting your rejection of a romantic union. 

“You need to be more careful with that thing,” you interrupt his thoughts with a soft murmur. You stood there in the small kitchenette so domestically, having turned on the small orange overhead light of the stove, hands tucked into your elbows as you watched him. He could still see the sleep on your swollen lips and eyes. Adorable. 

His head tilts in your direction, palms running up and down his thighs, preparing himself for the strain of standing. He almost scoffs at your tone. Scolding and full of worry. 

Thing. You hated the damn thing. It didn’t bring you any good memories, you’ve never even seen it be used for good in the first place.

But alas, your padawan days are still a mystery to him, his own youth was alluded to as well. He doesn’t pry into why you stare so blankly whenever he wields it, how you sigh when you hear it sing to life.

He nods, holding in a groan when he stands. You can see him struggle. You look down, avoiding thinking of the very same blade being sheathed through his stomach, like you’ve seen it be used against others. 

His side was badly injured a day before when he tried training with the darksaber, you had patched him up wordlessly the second he came in through the door, demanding him to put it away.

“I will be,” he says softly.

He strides slowly to stand in front of you, crowding you against the kitchen counter, his palm against your shoulder reassuringly. Your face softens, your hand lightly gripping his forearm and tightening when his thumb kneads the meat of your shoulder.

He can see the outline of your breasts, he had arrived when you had least expected it, only having time to pull on a shirt and shorts when your comm started beeping incessantly with the message that he had arrived.

You uncross your arm from your chest, almost immediately your nipples stiffen, pronouncing themselves against your thin shirt. He salivates, his throat constricting quickly as he swallows. It was cold, you didn’t seem to care.

You close your eyes, sighing shakily at the way his fingers press against your tense muscles. He throbs in his pants, imagining the sound coming from your lips not from the way he soothes you with his touch but from his lips enveloped over your tits, his tongue swirling at your pert and swollen nubs using his lips to suck more of your breast into his mouth.

He’d suck on them through your shirt if he has to, lift you onto the counter and make you scream his name with his thick fingers deep inside you.

He groans, just barely saving himself from full out moaning your name. Your eyes shoot open, your hands moving to his chest in concern, splaying your hand on him.

Fuck, he imagines you gripping his cock, tugging and not quite being able to wrap around it fully from how thick he was.

“You okay?”

Your hands travel downward, searching out for his just wrapped wound.  You had offered to try to heal him, but he knew you didn't really like using the force.  If anything, you avoided its use, you weren't one to rely on your "powers".

He steps back, his hands gripping your own to stop you from further inspecting him.  He sighs, looking down on you. 

“I have to go.”

Your face twists, your hands retract out of his grip and you're back to crossing your arms again. 

"I'm not helpless. You know that."

He does, frankly seeing you in action was always a pleasure. But your decisions these past few months have been anything but helpless. It seems as if your attachments made you careless at times, more willing to get into dangerous situations. Maybe the jetti were onto something with that. 

"Let me go with you."

Now he crosses his arms. He tilts his helmet about to refute but you step aside before he could.  You glance behind you, striding down the hall and to your bedroom. 

"I'll get my things."

For a few minutes he debates just leaving, but he knew that he would vex you if he did. He loathes even the thought of being subjected to your annoyance.  Your look of indifference would break him, he knew.

It was very obvious that you had just finished wrapping a breastband around your chest, you peaked from the doorway, your shoulders bare. 

"Which planet are we going to?"

He sighs, planting his hands on his hips and pointedly gazing at the floor the more you revealed yourself in the hall.

"Coruscant."

You make a noise from the back of your throat, a mix of disgust and irritation. He smiles beneath the helmet when he hears you shuffle back into the room, opening and closing drawers repeatedly, humming to yourself.

…

He loved watching you focus, as if you were in your element when you were on the hunt, like you were made to scout people out. 

Your head turned every so often as if you sniffed out the bad in people, your lips twisting in something akin to revulsion. It was menacing to say the least, especially when he had first asked you about it and you had responded vaguely.

I can tell who's a good person or not.

It was an oversimplification of things. You were gifted since your youth, one of the many reasons why you were being steered by your master into becoming a sentinel, someone who scouted the galaxy to snuff out the darkness. A guard of the temple in your downtime. 

He had nodded his head despite his confusion, wondering what category you had placed him in the moment you two met. He had assumed you were just a witch. You could always tell when things were going to go bad as if you could predict the future. You always knew what to say and how to act around anyone you came across with just by a simple shake of a hand.

Still, you always kept your composure, a seriousness that denied anyone entry into your true feelings.

He loved watching you focus, he was always left astonished by the way you planned, how you came up with ways to complete your goal the exact moment you take action.

Your reputation built, so much so that you had separated yourself from the guild so many years ago, almost as if you were too good to allow yourself to be given a couple hundred credits for your exceptional work. Some even say you worked for the resistance, senators, wealthy senators who would pay you for the job along with your silence. 

Despite himself he was also enamored with your mystery.  Especially since you were a rather niche person, only the wealthiest were able to afford your expertise, with the exception of a select few that no one had ever seemed to understand how they even made you agree for a meager hundred credits.

He later found out that most of those low credit pucks were from desperate families, some wanting their family members to be found, a lot of them trying to have their lost or taken children be brought home.

You grip his forearm, pulling him back a few steps. 

"Go back, I'll go front."

He tips his head, his body stiffening as you attempt to pull him to follow. He was already regretting bringing you with him. He feels his stomach drop at the thought of separation, his mind swirling with the endless possibilities that would result in your death, kidnapping or leaving. 

He starts to shake his head, but you grip the chin of his helmet tightly between your fingers. Goosebumps spring forth all over his body. Your fingers graze over his chin beneath the beskar, you rub your thumb over the end of his vizor.

"You'll be right there with me, don't worry."

You clear your throat at his lack of response. How he wishes he wasn't wearing his helmet at that moment. Your thumb would be running over his lips, just now he fights the urge to hunch over so that you could reach enough to cup the cheeks of his helmet.

Your hand lets go, you pat his chest and step back, embarrassed by how you most likely made him uncomfortable. He didn't even react, staying completely still as if you had cornered him against his will. 

"I'll go to the front of the building, you go back, yeah?"

He clears his throat, standing straighter and rolling his shoulders. 

"Yeah."

…

You didn't expect it to be so easy. Sure, you may have ordered a drink only to throw it on your bounty and light them on fire, but they were only glowing an illuminating blue for a couple of seconds.

The initial surprise of being lighted up was enough for you to disable him quickly.  He was on the floor, cuffed and shouting from the way the heel of your boot pressed harshly against his spine.

You didn't even have to go towards him, he just came up to you, asking to buy you a drink even if you already had one on hand. He spits curses at you now, trying to turn his head when threatening about the not so nice things he would do to you when he got out of your hold. 

"I'll kill you. You bitch!"

He's pulled to his knees, too preoccupied to notice the sound of clinking metal getting nearer. He only shuts up when the barrel of Din's blaster presses against his temple. 

He turns slowly, comically, forward, his head only reaching Din’s thighs.  He pales, his face almost turning a sickly gray. 

Some people might be a little ticked off. They might even feel offended at the way Din seemed to demand more respect out of people simply because he was a man, strapped with weapons and most of all a whole tank. 

At times it did bother you, how easier life might be if you weren't so small, if you didn't present yourself in ways that made people assume you were weak.

"Say that one more time. She doesn't need to bring you in alive," he practically growls.

The low voice travels around the now silent room, making its way towards your ears and through your body. You shiver.

A part of you, most likely the vile part of you loves the way he threatens violence for you so quickly. 

Makes life a little easier. 

Your bounty must have pissed his pants, he stood when you motioned him to, keeping his head down, avoiding bumping into the Mandalorian in front of him.

It was humid and hot at the drop off location, hidden behind an underground club, tables and chairs for each member of a gang and their members.

You take your jacket off and suddenly the room is at attention. Eyes are trained to your body, looks are thrown your way. You try to ignore the whistles and the hands reaching out in your direction. You would have put it back on, maybe you should have to make them stop but you didn't want to seem as if you were backing down for them.

Din shoves the bounty harshly, making him fall to the ground, scraping his knees and hands from how hard he was thrusted forward.

Your hand grazes his arm when you step forward, urging him to pay the unsavory words no mind. His anger was building steadily, and you knew that sooner or later his patience would run out.

The boss sways the bag of credits to your face teasingly, you stare at him, keeping yourself from scowling. His breath stings your nose, you fight back an instinctive recoil as he presses a finger to his cheek, asking for a peck. At your lack of response, he lets the credits fall from his hands, you barely caught it, smiling sarcastically as you step back. 

You have the urge to sigh in relief, walking away and making it back to the ship in one piece.

"You willing to share her, Mando?"

He stops. Your shoulders tighten. You couldn't grip his hand before he had turned around and strode over to the table. 

"What the hell did you just say?"

Things spiraled from there, one second you were inches from the door, the next everyone was starting to come at you both because he had decided shooting one of them in the chest was enough of a tradeoff for their bosses question.

"Go! Now!" Din had yelled from behind. 

You had been able to get to a hidden corner, away from blaster fire and out of sight. You curse loudly, your heart starting to beat so quickly you felt it against your ribcage. Din was surrounded, you knew he was staring into the floor, avoiding looking in your direction. 

Their blasters and weapons were pointed at him, his hands were raised in surrender.

"Take him. Look for the other one." 

Din lightly shakes his head when you start to crawl over, his helmet picking up the ruffling of your pants, crouching low behind some crates. This always happens, one of the two of you being caught or trapped, the other having to save the other. 

But your idea of resolution has changed. Plans were more erratic, you were more aggressive, actions were taken without being properly thought out. The old you would have waited, have them lead you to where they thought they were safe and lowered their guard. 

The present you wanted to pounce the second a blaster pressed against his side, when they teased how they would kill him for his armor and leave his carcass in the streets. 

It scared him, how if you were in his position now he would have followed through with the messy carnage he knows you are aching to cause. It scared him how despite the shake of his head you did it anyway. 

…

He had to drag you out of the Coruscant gang’s ship hangar. There were some stragglers left, running away from you, pleading for you to let them go.  His hand on your shoulder had made you stop mid swing. You didn’t really use your saber, he wonders what had changed. 

He saw the way your hand shook as you disabled the blade, how you tried to hide it by stomping into the ship and up to the cockpit, away from him.

You had your hands in fists when he had gotten up with a sigh. You stared forward the whole time he readied the ship for hyperspace, wanting nothing more than for the trip to be over. The shivering in your body had stopped after the glowing rays of blues and whites appeared outside the cockpits windows. 

He turns in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning towards you.

"You okay?"

You nod, avoiding his gaze. 

"Are you?" you ask.

You seemed angry with him, and that anger had made his concern turn to irritation. If anything, he should be angry at you, putting yourself at risk, being so close to getting shot and stabbed after he had directed you to leave.

He scoffs and your face falls from the hard stare, softening slightly. You stand and he flinches. Your sudden movement startled him back into sitting up straight. Your brows furrow in concern, thinking he was startled by you, wanting to get away from you.

"I shouldn't have gone that far," you whisper. 

You thought he was disappointed in the fact that you had slaughtered dozens. You were a jedi, or something like one and you weren't supposed to act like this. You let your emotions get the better of you, and that made you afraid. 

He shakes his head, standing and knowing where you were going with your thoughts. Before you could leave, he had pulled you back roughly, twisting you and pushing you onto the panels and controls.

"That's not- You could have gotten yourself killed."

He was gritting his teeth, his voice sounding dangerously low. Wanting to make you back down with the anger in his tone.

You look down, swallowing thickly and avoiding his gaze. A part of you was relieved he was just concerned for your wellbeing. The other was fighting back the urge to squeeze your thighs together from his still tight grip on your arm.

His chest heaves, he steps closer, crowding you against the control panel. He cups your face gently, his words getting softer when you instinctually lean against his touch. 

"You're so stubborn and irritating and reckless."

His other hand grips at your side, your eyes flicker from his vizor to his chest. Your ass cuts into the edge of the controls, his body blocks your vision, his upper torso curving downward to get a good look at you squirming. He wants to feel you. Present, alive, with him. 

"You always get like this."

Your brow quirks, your eyes trained on the rise and fall of his chest. He could feel your heat rise, your cheeks burning under the touch of his glove. 

"Always acting so big and tough only to get so shy when I get near you. Do I make you nervous?"

"Din‐"

You breathe out shakily, his hand travelling down to the front of your body, between your thighs and pressing in a rocking motion. You’ve thought about this so much. He was away so often you had to use your imagination to not feel as lonely.

"That why you're soaking through your trousers?"

Your runaway thoughts would evolve quickly from sharing a meal with him and Grogu as a family to suddenly being in Tatooine, the baby with Peli, and both of you finally having some time alone.  He'd bend you over, hold you up against the wall with your face against the wall as he pounds into you from behind. 

"I can't lose you. I can't let anything happen to you. I won't be able to live with myself if you're gone."

Your heart is frantic, momentarily out of the haze of pleasure his touch gives you. Fighting back a smile, your hands rise tauntingly up his arms, making him pause.

"So you leave me, alone, on a planet that I can barely call home and with people I don't know."

Greef would be offended, but he keeps his mouth shut when your eyes narrow up at him, knowing what he was about to respond with. He leans down, the cold beskar tapping against your head gently.

"I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I'm sorry," he whispers.

You nod against him, your hands gripping tightly onto his arms, his tightly wound around your waist.

"Let me show you how sorry I am."

Din follows the hitch of your breath, the thick swallow of your throat and your pinching eyes at his offer. You nod, your mouth parting enough to fog up the front of his vizor with your exhale.

He tugs your shirt up, his palm smoothing over your soft stomach, squeezing lightly. The cold panel meets your back, his hands moving up to your breasts, pushing your breastband up to pinch your nubs.

Your skin sings, finally, finally, finally. Finally, the ache in your body could be sated, the erratic thumps of your heart be reciprocated. Travel, near death experiences and general stresses have been deterring this; taking the next step once and for all.

"Love your tits, always teasing me with them."

You didn't mean to. Not really. It just felt nice to not constantly wear something so restrictive. You'd catch him staring, playing it off, when you had noticed, seemingly focused on something behind or beside you.

By the time you pulled your shirt off he had already taken his helmet in hand, falling to the ground in a hard thump. You had initially looked down, there were very few moments where he would show you his face, most of the time when he had assured the room were locked, windows closed shut and you weren't staring directly at him.

You couldn't get a good look before he leaned down, cupping the back of your head and neck and pulling you up to meet his lips. He groans loudly, he moans wantonly at your taste.

The adrenaline that had built up inside him an hour ago came back full force with the beat of his heart.

He slams you against the wall, his hands curling around your thighs and lifting. You shiver from his strength, from the cold metal of his chest and the wall behind you. 

You had more access to him this way, he had more access to you. Your mouth parts in a wispy moan, his facial hair rubbing against the thin skin of your throat as he sucks harshly. You wince when his fingers tighten over your hips, adjusting so that he could grip you tighter. 

Din lifts you higher, his face directly in front of your chest. He stares for a few moments, his eyes glassy, licking his lips from the way they bounced with the readjustment of his grip on you, now travelled up to your ass.

Tingles run up your spine when he nuzzles at the sides of your breasts, whispering praises in Mando'a, kissing tenderly at your sensitive skin.

"Mesh'la, mesh'la, gedet'ye... gedet'ye."

His mouth was hot, wet and all encompassing. He was pleading into you, drunk on your scent, sucking onto your skin and leaving swelling marks, making your skin glisten with his spit. 

He would worship you if he wasn't so pent up, lay you down, put his mouth to use all over your body until your mind drew blank slowly and surely. 

He unbuttoned the front of your pants, pushing the fabric down and thighs before pulling himself out of his flight suit quickly afterwards. You didn't think twice before nodding your head, whispering a quiet yes out into the room.

It stings, the first thrust made you whimper, your face buried over his cowl, your hands squeezing at his shoulders. His hands were on either side or your body, his fingers spread on the wall to thrust into you.

You bounce with each movement of his hips, your head repeatedly bumping against the metal panel, your body not knowing what to do with the building energy festering in your lower stomach. 

"Been dreaming of your cunt, ever since we met."

Years. It's been years since you met and the first time you did, it didn't really go all that well.  The connection was there, it was present and growing with each time you saw that damn silver helmet passing you by in Nevarro. 

You hold in your yell, burying your face against him to stifle the animalistic sounds coming from your mouth.  Din didn't like that, he wanted to hear you, he wanted all of his senses to be full of you.

A sharp thrust made you see stars, your cunt pulsing so much you swore you could feel the outline of his cock reveal itself inside you, sucking him in and keeping him there when he tried to pull back slightly.

He was filling, stuffing you so full you had no choice but to try to spread your legs farther apart on his waist.  He was just so big, a big heart, big presence and a very large body. 

At first his stature had made you cautious, he was dangerous, and despite his size he was still as swift as a viper and as strong as a bantha. He was a Mandalorian, just how the legends described them and now he was fucking a Jedi into the wall, making them scream out his name like a prayer to the maker. 

His legs start to crumble at the feel of your lips against his throat, skimming on the edge of his jaw. His thrusts quicken, the sticky slap of your slick covered skin amplifies, and he presses you harshly into the bolts and ridges of the wall behind you. 

Your groans of slight discomfort replaced and followed by louder and wispier moans barely met his ears. You could feel him pulse, his shaft twitching with the way you clench and bite into his skin. 

You raise your legs higher up his waist and he grunts, this time not in pleasure. Looking up from his chest, fighting through the pleasure coursing through your veins his jaw was clenched, his eyes closed tightly as he fought through the sting of his days old fresh wound on his side, which you knee was digging into. 

He continues to pound into you, fighting through the burning and the way his legs start to give out from beneath him. When his hands start roaming between your legs you stop him, breathing heavily through your mouth and panting when he has stopped altogether at your concerned look.

"Din slow down‐"

His head slumps against the wall, his hands grip you close to him when he leans closer. You're pressed so tightly between both walls of metal you felt as if your bones were going to crack.

"I can't‐" he huffs, "feel so good."

He was panting, heaving against you, his hands twitching to continue. You were the tightest thing he's ever felt in his life, so creamy and wet and hot.

His neck cranes down to get a taste of your lips, your hands having pushed through his hair and pulling him down. He breathes into you, trying to steady his breath as he steps back, his calves meeting the seat of his chair. 

Din sits down heavily, parting his legs and helping you adjust your legs over his waist.

You lean back on his thighs, licking your lips, pressing your hands over his chest urging him to lean back against the seat.  His eyes roam over you, his swollen lips parted, sweat building on his brow. 

Pace me, he pleads, his eyes meeting yours and his grip going to your hip to help you start. 

Your knees spread out in the open air.  All of the chairs in the cockpit didn't have any arms. The ship was mostly for luxury, old, pre‐empire but nonetheless kept intact for luxurious purposes.  The chairs had arms, so that pilots could be comfy in their travels. 

Din could barely fit in them, the arms were too close to his sides, and he felt rather restricted.  You thank that maker that he had suddenly decided he was tired of trying to maneuver around the control panel with metal bars pressing against his sides.

The chair creaks with the movement of your hips. You lean against his shoulder and his thigh to help you, your back arched and your breasts pushed to his face. 

Each push up and down his shaft gets stronger, with each slap of skin the pace quickens until your breasts are bouncing on his face and he attempts to mouth at them from where he sits.

Fire builds in your stomach, and it feels as if his touch, now getting closer to your core and your clit was only adding on to the heat.

His thumb, gods his thumb, pushes against your sensitive nerve, the hood being pulled away with each of your thrusts forward.  Then when you had finally felt yourself beginning to reach your end his thumb regressed down, feeling the edge of your pussy, tracing the stretched skin from where you were connected and rubbing in your slick to the base of his shaft and the tight rim of your hole. 

"Do you feel me?" 

His hand cups the back of your head, making you look up at him and whimper helplessly. You burn in embarrassment, from how pathetic you must look, shifting on his spearing cock, not being able to move anymore from how his arm holds you down so deep your clit was rubbing and rutting against his pelvis, the thick trail of his pubic hair from his pelvis to the base of his shaft stimulating.

"Yes," your words slur together, you were drooling, "feels so good. So deep."

Aching, he was making you ache and tremble. You swore he was puncturing you through to your womb. He tilts his head; you swallow thickly when he thrusts up into you. You clench, on the verge of being in pain.

"Full," you whine. 

He's mesmerized, fully relaxing himself into the seat, ignoring the ache in his body and holding you from your sides, his thumbs right under your breast, pushing them up and in his full view. 

He bounces you effortlessly, watching intently as your chest sways with the movement, your ass clapping from how hard and quick he was lifting and lowering you onto him. 

Din is a simple man, he has needs like everyone else, and your body is beautiful, ethereal and godlike. And now he was taking you, ruining you and making a mess of your cunt.

He guides one of your hands down, pressing your fingers to your clit, making a quick circular motion on your hood, urging you to repeat at your will. You immediately start clenching, your soft thighs starting to shake.

It was a flash, a quick passing of a thought that he didn't want to entertain in those lonely nights he had to jerk himself off. 

He imagined your smaller body swelling, growing heavy with his kid, or kids, or however many you would allow him to give you. 

His thumb flicks up and down, barely grazing your nipple. You moan, throwing your head back. They were pulled closer to his face, nipples tight and perky, begging him to put his mouth to use.  He salivates wondering how you would taste, how your milk would slide down his throat.

He doesn't think he'll ever tell you, how much he wants to breed you, how he wants you to make him a father again.

Shame fills him with the thought of you wearing your traditional robes, only to then pull it back to reveal the gravid swell of your stomach. What an honor that would be, to be able to have your child, to get the opportunity to dote and cherish you so fiercely in the process of creating another being he could love and protect. 

Din's head slumps against the chair, he closes his eyes tightly, grunting each time your pussy kisses the base of his cock. He starts to murmur again, a mix of basic and Mando'a.

"Fill you up, gedet'ye. Please, ti ner arpat. gedet'ye."  (with my seed, please.)

You understood enough of it, your stomach twitched, pulsing with electricity and making you moan out and move frantically for your climax. Your legs were squeezing his waist, your hand moving quickly, stimulating you further. 

He feels you tighten so much his breath stutters. Your back arched when he had increased his brutal pace, helping your fingers along your clit, making it throb so much it started to burn. 

You were seeing the light, he had brought you down to his lips, muffling your moans and gasping and crying out for him in his name.  He felt all of your pulses, the way your hips twitched incessantly, and your thighs shook so harshly your whole body was trembling. 

You hissed when he pulled you down, grinding and rutting up into, meeting his own end which felt as if it was minutes long. You still work on each other's orgasms, not stopping until you had both used yourselves of all you had. 

Your throat closes, you almost choke on your own spit from the sounds of his groans. Instead, you bite into his shoulder, he could barely feel the pressure of your teeth against the fabric of his cowl, too focused on the way your cunt was clamped onto him and sucking whatever he gave to you.

With the few lasts spurts of his cum, you had finally finished, now resting your head against his shoulder, feeling his thighs twitch for a few seconds afterwards. 

Your walls were so warm, his cum stuffing you full and making you feel slight discomfort at the heat of it.

Your head tilts down, gazing at the mess between your legs. A mix of white and clear slick was escaping the sides of your cunt, sliding down his softened cock and pooling to the seat and your thighs. 

You chuckle and your gaze focuses back on him, your hands cup his face lovingly and a teasing and tired smile plasters itself on your lips, his brows furrow. 

"What‐"

You moan when you kiss him, feeling your body want to shut down so badly but forcing yourself to relish in the aftermath. You bring his hand to your lower stomach.

"Gar arpat yaiyai'yc ner yai," you whisper against his lips.  His face reddens, a dark rush of blood at the fact that you had most likely understood every word he had said.  His cock twitches at your sentence, making him groan as you capture his lips once more. (Your seed satisfied/bloated my womb.)

You peck his lips, resting your forehead against his and caressing his cheek with the back of your fingers.

"One day..." you assure.  He swallows thickly, pulling you closer. You press your head against his shoulder as he nods.

"I think I'm going to faint..." you say against his throat.  He hums in agreement, feeling how your body was starting to slump against his chest.

Din takes his time cleaning you, kissing your legs, touching you lightly with a warm and damp towel, wincing at the sight of your cunt so swollen, the ghost of his tight grip that was pulsing in heat on your skin. His hands caressed over your cheek, having stripped himself of his armor, getting inside the bunk bare with you to coax you to sleep. 

Funnily enough he was knocked out after a couple of minutes, already snoring.  You were still fighting to keep your eyes open, eyeing his side and torso.

The wound was on his right side, you were laying against his chest on his left. You close your eyes tightly, your hand moving over the bandage.  It felt strange, you've only done this maybe once or twice.  It was advanced, usually reserved for those who specialized in the force and depended on it like a limb or those who were special. 

You didn't hear him shift in his sleep, feeling as if his skin were being pulled. He grumbles to you, asking what was going on. Whatever energy you had left escaped your body in that moment, you slump against him.

For a few moments he panics, sitting up and lifting your limp body with him, cupping your face, tapping your cheek repeatedly, thinking he had actually made you pass out. Then he notices that his side isn't stinging as harshly as before. He breathes in a lungful of air and feels no pain, his hands unwrap the bandage over his stomach only to reveal a patch of skin on his side, red and scabbier than the rest as if weeks had gone by.

…

Your legs were so shaky, you could barely feel them when you stood. You wince with each step, your core throbbing. Your body felt as if it was going to turn into mush and collapse, you leaned heavily against a small ledge at the side of the hull, a small kitchen where you were trying to make some rations for breakfast.

"Fuck," you mutter, starting to remember everything that had happened the night before in full detail. Your body was literally about to collapse, you had given some of your life energy, you needed to replenish yourself before even thinking of walking around like you have just now.

On top of that, you were genuinely sore from your other activity. Being pumped full of adrenaline and expelling it in such an explosive way would have left you tired even without the healing session.

Your cunt throbs as you shift on your feet, you have been stretched to your limit, your hand roams over your hips and ass and you swear you feel the beginning of harsh bruises. It was worth it, you thought, you had been thinking of his cock for months now, years, imagining how big he was even underneath all that armor. 

A shiver rolls up your spine.

His hands encircle your waist, his head leaning down to rest on your shoulder. You leaned so much into him; it was startling how drained you looked in his arms. He pulls back slightly.

"Are you okay?"

You shake your head, feeling weaker by the second. He lifts you easily, striding over to the bunk and wrapping you up in blankets and pillows, standing there for a few minutes, making sure you were breathing and shaking his head at your foolish attempt to fight through your fatigue.

…

"She was injured. Badly."

"Does she need medical attention? We have a hospital nearby."

"It's fine, I can take care of her."

They stare at each other for a few moments. Din’s vizor showed no hint of emotion except stubbornness. Greef Karga's gaze did not falter from where he stood.

"Right, you don't trust droids,” Karga quips teasingly, a hint of skepticism hidden in his words. 

Din nods, his hands at his hips, shifting on his feet as if gesturing for him to get back to his magistrate business and leave him alone. Greef claps his hands together, glancing at your door and nodding.

"I'll leave you to it. I'm only a call away, Mando, anything you need."

With a final nod from Din he makes his way over to his speeder, two small droids fighting to stay balanced as they follow behind his steps. Din makes sure the trail of dirt and soot was cleared before he entered the home, locking the door, closing the window and finally taking off his armor. 

Din hears your yawn, elongated and loud. Bringing forth a chuckle from his chest.

Your hands reach out for him when he steps inside the bedroom. You entangle your limbs with his when you tug him down on the bed, barely wide enough to fit both of you.

"Stay awhile," you murmur, tracing patterns over his side.

He rubs your back soothingly, massaging into the muscles of your shoulders and neck.

"'Course."

--------------------

I love Din Djarin, hes so man and so beauty and so baby gurl. Bubba!

Starlight Masterlist

grogu’s soft cooing filled your home as you cooked the meat over the stove. he sat perched in his hover pram, his curious face eyeing you thoughtfully as you cooked the nerf meat in the pan, din’s favourite.

nevarro was quieter than your life before it and although din’s work still had risks, you both had a permanent home here. a place to settle down together with grogu and, as you’d both had planned, a baby of your own.

you both weren’t necessarily determined, it was more of a case of if it happened, it happened. if it didn’t, you still had a son in grogu.

and it was fun too — having sex without any precautions, it made you feel like a love sick teenager again.

you finished off dinner and dished out food between the three of you, leaving din’s up for him for whenever he decided to arrive home.

dinner was peaceful as usual, filling the silences with conversation with the child although he couldn’t necessarily answer you. you liked evenings like these and they made you wonder how grogu would be if you and mando’s plans go well. you weren’t too sure how he would act around a human baby, you hoped it would be positive.

shortly after, you took grogu to his bedroom, bonding with him a little before putting him down for the night and today, he didn’t give you much hassle while doing so. he rarely did anyway.

and just as you made it back out to the living room, you were met with the sound of the front door clicking shut and then, the heavy steps that were revealed to be your husband as you turned around to see him in the hallway.

“hello, cyar'ika,” mando greeted, meeting you in the kitchen and removing his helmet with a heavy grunt, one that told you that it had been a long day.

you slid your hands up his armoured chest, relieved to his handsome face after the hours of not seeing it. it was moments like these that made your life as beautiful as it was, just the simple things. you leaned in for a kiss, pressing your lips to his in a loving kiss before pulling back to whisper. “i’ve missed you.”

din’s eyes softened on you — they always did in gentle moments like these. he dropped his large, gloved hands down to cup your waist, smiling softly when you melted into his touch. “i’m sorry i was so long, darling,” he sighed, allowing his forehead to fall against yours. “it was only meant to be a short job, things just got busy.”

you hummed, tracing the metal over his chest, a playful smile forming on your lips. “i’m sure i can think of a way you can make it up to me.” you said suggestively, wiggling your brows and eliciting a laugh from din.

he licked his lips, his grip on you getting slightly tighter. although mando was a man of few words, you could tell when something you’d said settled deep in his core. “yeah?”

“uh huh,” you bit your lip. “grogu is asleep. out like a light,” you brought your hand up to run through din’s curls — the dark hair feeling soft between your fingers, curtesy of that shampoo you insisted him on using. “maybe you could eat your dinner.. and then we could head to the bedroommmm?” you drawled out, giggling.

“hm,” mando grunted, the corners of his lips twitching as if he were fighting off a smile. “or we could just go straight t’the bedroom.” his hands squeezed your waist tightly, making your squirm a little beneath his hold. you giggled and reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, shifting a little in a hint for him to lift you up.

“you’re not hungry?” you asked, leaning in to graze your lips off his jaw, his stumble tickling your mouth charmingly.

din’s hands slipped down your body before lifting you up against his own, wrapping your legs around his waist and keeping a firm hold underneath your buttocks. he started to walk towards the bedroom and you squealed as you bounced slightly in his arms with each heavy step. “i am. just a different kind.”

your back hit the bed before you could even register that you were in you and your husbands shared bedroom. din worked frantically across from you, standing at the end of the bed while you sat up and watched him remove his armour, stepping out of his pants and working on taking his top half off.

you chewed your lip, twirling a piece of fabric from your night dress around your finger. he looked so good in his armour and part of you wished that he didn’t have to take it off. you wanted his cock, of course you did after a long day of not seeing him, but you wished he could just fuck you while wearing it. the metal accentuated his muscles so beautifully, making him look like a sculpted, chiselled piece of art just for you.

but then, an idea popped into your head.

it wasn’t necessarily his entire uniform but it was something at least.

“baby?” you asked softly, a little sheepishly even.

“mhm?” he paused, pulling his top half over his head, leaving him in just his underwear.

“uhm..” you sat up, getting to your feet nervously and watching how din peered back at you in confusion. “just.. wait here.”

din sat on the bed, looking up as you started to walk toward the door. “wh-”

“just wait!” you called back, breaking into a quick walk down the hallway and into the joint kitchen and living room. you scanned the space before your eyes stopped on the item you wanted.

his helmet.

you grabbed it and held it behind your back, making your way back towards the bedroom and standing in the doorway, a nervous grin tugging at your lips.

din was now stretched out on the bed, laying comfortably against the cushions, his underwear tenting for obvious reasons. the sight made you tingle. “what’s that you’ve got?” he asked, brows furrowed.

you rubbed your lips together, taking the helmet in front of your body and holding it up. you chuckled a little awkwardly. “i just.. kinda thought it would be fun for you to wear your helmet..”

a smile broke out on mando’s face and he sat up, patting the bed as you started to walk toward him. you placed the helmet on the mattress, climbing up along with it.

“you’d be into that, ka'rta?” he asked, rolling over on top of your body, covering yours with his as he helped you settle comfortably against the pillows. “you want me to fuck you with my helmet on?”

“mmm..” you hummed, still giggling as he grabbed the helmet, planting some sloppy kisses over your neck, almost as if he were savouring the taste of your skin before he wouldn’t be able to kiss it anymore. “just a little though.”

“just a little?” he asked, voice turning into that grumbled drawl as he placed the helmet over his head, covering every last piece of his face. you let your hand travel down to his soft underwear, your hand squeezing the outline of him gently through the fabric. you could hear the way his breath hitched, even through his helmet.

“well.. maybe a little more than a little.” you answered, smirking as you felt him push his hips forward, almost as if he were silently encouraging you to take him out of the confines of him draws.

you took the hint and accommodated him on pushing the clothing down his thighs, watching as he kicked them the rest of the way off. the sight of him was so erotic and you were sure — even as good as you and din’s sex life already was — that you’d never done anything hotter than this.

“god, din,” you moaned, your head falling back as you rocked your hips upward, your clit throbbing uncomfortably beneath the silk bed-wear. you weren’t wearing any underwear — you never did underneath pyjamas — and you were sure your thighs were coated now. you could feel it, your skin uncomfortably sticky. “you’re making me crazy,”

“okay, it’s okay love. i’ve got you.” he could tell how worked up you were getting. as your husband, he was very in-tuned to these sorts of things. the past two years of making love to you, fucking you ever so gently to take you to that place of bliss he knew you needed after a long day. or sometimes, he was a little rougher. bending you over the panel of the razor crest, pounding his cock into you with little care for how overstimulated you were getting. you act up like this? you take it cyar'ika. from all of that, it was pretty easy to tell what you wanted and needed. and he wasn’t about to deprive you of it.

he reached down and flipped the skirt of your night dress up, the soft, familiar silk feeling comforting on his hand. as he revealed your lower half, you hissed. the room temperature air on your glistening cunt hitting you like a truck. you whimpered, dropping your head back, completely surrendering yourself to mando for him to do with you as he pleased. he always did know how to please you after all.

silently, he reached for your cunt, running his thumb through your slit to feel just how wet you really were. and god, you didn’t disappoint. his fucking girl, his wife. always so ready for his cock.

he brought his thumb back up to the top of your slit, pressing down on your clit gently to gauge a reaction from you. immediately, you whimpered again, reaching forward to clutch his arm. “so ready, love. yooba solus mesh'la, goddamn.”

you smiled hazily, nodding and lifting your hips up into his hands. “ngh - yeah,” you gasped. “please — fuck, din. stop teasing.” you whined, desperation evident in your voice.

“c’mon, let’s get this pussy nice and full.” he groaned, reaching down to grip his cock in one hand while using his other to spread you open to his liking. mando was always relatively quiet during sex, he wasn’t a talker at the best of times, anyway. it didn’t bother you much, certainly not now anyway, when he was prodding his drooling cock at your entrance, his own breaths breaking into an uneven moan when he felt your wet entrance on his sensitive glands.

the first push in made you gasp. it always did, what with mando’s size. he always filled you so good, his tip kissing your cervix as he settled inside of you fully. your walls hugged him comfortably, a warm embrace that made him drop his helmeted head into your neck. “fuck, honey. so warm.” he mumbled.

you nodded, eyes falling shut as he rocked his hips just once in an experimental way, testing your readiness. for a split second, you wished you could feel his lips on your neck, nipping and sucking in the way he knew you loved. it was like a secret language between the two of you, one only the two of you were aware of and it felt a little disappointing not to feel it right now.

but.. you could really deny that view. not with the way he looked in this fucking helmet, face buried in your neck while he rocked into you gently, his hand fumbling down between your legs to your clit. his rolled it between two fingers and you clenched down on him, the two of you groaning in perfect unison.

and although you were enjoying his ministrations, you are growing somewhat frustrated at his slow pace. you whined in a mix of impatience and neediness. “please din, need it harder.” you moaned, your hands travelling up his back, nails digging in slightly when he drew gentle, pressured patterns on your bundle of flesh.

you could practically see the smirk through his armoured face. something he didn’t do often, mostly only in moments like these. “harder? is that what you need? ya need me to put my baby in you tonight?”

you hiccuped, chest tightening at his lewd words as he pulled his face back from your neck, letting it hover over your own. “y-yes. god — just.. want a baby with you so bad,” tears sprung to your eyes and you weren’t sure if they were from pleasure, frustration or the genuine wish to have another addition to the family you and din already had. “a baby brother or s-sister for grogu.”

you clung to his back tighter now as if it were your only lifeline. like if you dug your nails hard enough or squeezed his muscles tight enough, he’d grant you this. one hand stayed on your clit while the other cupped your soft belly. “I’m going to give that to you, love,” din told you, voice firm with determination but you could hear the way it cracked slightly with that underlying emotion. something deeper than he’d ever fully expressed to you while you’d both talked about a baby. “going to give it to you just right and give you that baby.”

you nodded but before you could form an answer, din drew back far enough that just his cock head was sheathed inside you before slamming back in, just how you’d asked. it made you cry out — sharp and sudden, the air being forced from your lungs. it rattled your insides in the most satisfying way and nudged that sensitive spot nestled deep in your walls.

“tell me how bad you need this, ka'rta. tell me how bad you need my cum.” and his voice sounded pleading. like if he didn’t hear you describe this thing for him, if he didn’t hear your struggling, pleased voice, that he would never be whole. it was the kind of desperation that he reserved only for your ears and the trust in that made you even more aroused and even more emotional, your moans and gasps turning into sobs fairly quickly.

he set a steady, yet brutal pace all the same while you frantically searched for the words that suited exactly how you felt right now. it was so perfect, his fingers on your sweet spot, his cock on that even sweeter one inside of you, dragging through your walls and your ears drowning in the sound of steady slapping of skin.

“need — oh that’s it, right there, i.. god i need it so bad, baby. just need to be full of you. wanted it all — all day.” you stuttered, voice high pitched as he stimulated you.

you opened your mouth to continue babbling about whatever you thought of quick enough but nothing came out. you lost your vocalisation skills pretty quickly when the only thing your ears could hear and your brain could concentrate on were din’s moans and groans and grunts as he fucked his cock in and out of you.

you were both a sweating mess, both bodies rocking and bouncing slightly with ever thrust and right now? it was just you two. just the two of you in this whole planet. in this whole galaxy. nothing and nobody mattered outside of this life you’d both built for yourselves.

and you were right there.

right where mando needed you to be.

“s’right there, din,” you sobbed quietly, clutching his body loosely as your control started to slip. and din knew what was coming. you always got like this right around now when he fucked you dumb on his cock. whiny, messy, a little teary eyed. he knew you like the back of his hand, you know? the way your body reacted in moments like these — when he hit that special spot.

it was so beautiful, watching you cry and whinge from the impact of his cock on your g-spot. “i know, baby. i know how to take care of your special spot, you just lay back and relax. you about to cum?”

“i.. y-yeah.. m’gonna cum. gonna.. m’gonna — fuck, din!” you gasp when his hips pick up the pace, your hips rolling almost as if they had a mind of their own — your only focus now, being your climax.

mando smiled. you looked so damn adorable like this, all desperate and glowing. “come on, mesh'la. i know your holding back, you’re clenching. just let go for me, my love. let me feel you.” his voice sounded muffled through the helmet yet his words landed right in your core, encouraging you to stop being stubborn and just allow yourself to feel that sweet release.

your stomach clenched, your walls twitching and with one deep exhale paired with a sharp cry, you shattered. your walls rippled around his length, sending a charming tingle up din’s sensitive cock, your convulsing only contributing to the ache building in his balls. his stomach simmered with a warm, dangerous heat, his cock starting to twitch as he let you cry it out.

you sobbed loudly and all thoughts of grogu next door completely left your head. mando wrapped both arms around your waist and sat back on his heels, pulling you up into his lap while he did. he gently pulled your face into the crook of his neck, pacifying your cries. he grunted while he fucked up into you and your gasps turned broken, shaky.

“din — din, baby.. I can’t..” you sniffled into his bare shoulder, your teeth sinking into the sweat damp flesh to control yourself.

din grunted and moaned, hissing as he felt his balls draw up. “it’s coming, you can take it, baby.” he gritted, his cock spurting thick ropes of cream inside of your walls, hopefully swimming towards your womb if you were lucky. mando’s face dropped into your neck, the metal feeling odd on your hot skin.

the next two minutes consisted of the two of you mushed together, the fluids of one another dripping onto skin and the sounds of ragged breaths. you leaned back looking at the way dins head flopped down, bowing as it moved from your neck.

it made you giggle — how exhausted he seemed and you reached forward, pulling the helmet off of his head and revealing his red, flushed face, his hair tousled from the armour.

you cupped his cheeks and he looked up at you with those loving, brown orbs of his. “hey,” you whispered, voice slightly giddy from that post coital comedown.

both his arms lazily tightened around your waist and his lips twitched as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. “hey.”

Nevarro? The place that was nothing more but a meet-up for the Bounty Hunters' Guild? Now being anything other than that?

A home.

And if they told you that wouldn't be the only thing to change, well, what would you expect?

Certainly not the famed Mandalorian being that home for you.

Once rivals at work, then hasty allies due to unforeseen complications involving a certain little green alien. Among the stars and the quietness his stoic nature provided, you found a place within the beats of a heart that had just learn how to feel again. Where before stood nothing but darkness, a body on auto-pilot, now lay a man who you could read: in his pauses and stances, in the tilt of his helmet, in the slight cracks of his voice if an emotion was hard to hide under beskar and indifference.

The Mandalorian, living legend, was more than the beskar warrior that had defeated Moff Gideon and wielded the Darksaber: underneath, he was Din Djarin, your lover.

And you, the Guild's second best: who kept winning his jobs, who he once deemed annoying and reckless. Who almost put once his life to end if it wasn't for Grogu changing your heart. Now his cyar'ika.

The universe worked in mysterious ways: the way fate had intertwined your lives with duty and heart, a soul and warrior pride. A house, a baby to raise as one of your kind.

The very same one that's cooing right now as you play with his hands.

"We should definitely get him a bed"

Din's head turns around, stopping whatever task he had in his hands.

"He likes to sleep on the floor"

You gasp. "Why are you talking about him as if he was a Massiff? That's your son!"

He returns his attention to the gun he was cleaning, losing interest in the conversation. "Then Grogu can sleep on the bed with us"

You carry up Grogu before walking up to him, forcing him to turn by his shoulder.

"He'll eventually grow it out"

"It'll take years, probably centuries. Didn't you hear the Jedi?"

"I did, I'm not deaf. Maybe you are, or just empty brained"

To prove said point, you knock on his helmet. The beskar makes an echoing sound that bounces off the walls.

"Stop" Din warns, although his voice sounds remotely angry. Bothered, if anything.

No matter the love, some things don't change: him finding your antics annoying.

"Do you want your son to remember how stingy you were?" you balance him on your hip, "How daddy didn't spare a few credits for a decent crib?"

You raise Grogu to his face, aligning it with his visor. The child babbles, as if he truly understands the role he has to play.

"How can you say no to that cute face?" you taunt with a baby voice, moving Grogu. "To those cute big eyes and large ears?"

He stands up. "Put him down. You're going to drop it"

You narrow your eyes. Then, pretend to. Din instantly goes alert-mode, arms raised and ready to catch him.

"It's not funny"

"You're not fun"

He sighs, probably rolling his eyes under the helmet.

"You're such a child, cyar'ika"

You turn Grogu to look at you, his big eyes rooted in your face as he giggles.

"That makes us two, eh?"

Without telling you, Din proceeds to take him from your hold.

"Hey!"

"It's time he rests" It's all he says, walking towards the bed.

You cross your arms. "You just did that to take him away from me"

He gives his back to you, focused on Grogu and his fingers wrapped around his.

"Maybe"

You huff. "I'm going to cook something. For me"

Din doesn't grant you a reply this time.

"Suit yourself" you bite back.

The thing about being rivals for about two decades, is the petty banter never seemed to die out.

It's rarely serious, probably only when you chastise his suicidal tendencies when he's piloting, so of course it doesn't last.

Which is why he's right now coming from behind you, hand on your waist. Din wasn't much into physical contact as he was into proving his love through actions, so any small touch was highly appreciated by you.

"He fell asleep"

You stirr the pot, "In the floor or the bed?"

His reply is curt, "Floor"

You sometimes forget he's not much of a talker.

"You're bent on proving your point" you flicker his signet, "stubborn as a Mudhorn once they pick up a fight"

"Maybe..." his voice dwindles, not before going out with a rasp. You recognize the pattern of his breathing, the way it hitches, "...maybe I wanted the bed to be free"

You turn the stove off and take a better look at him, desperately wishing to see his face.

The last time you saw it, he did it for Grogu. You understood, but can't say it didn't sting even a bit.

Would his eyes be a darker shade, crowded with lust? Would he sport a grin or a smirk? Is he looking at you with desire, with need? And where those same lips still as kissable as they looked that day? Would they eat you, devour, like a starved man if he let you see? Leave marks; bites, to show everyone around what to him belonged?

"That's raw" he whispers, voice croaking.

Your voice breaks, too.

"Who cares? We're not eating anymore"

"Not that" he agrees.

Din gently pressed you against the soft sheets of the bed, your breath hitching as he placed himself on top.

His hands tremble slightly as he touches your skin, a contrast to the stoic, effective and unbreakable warrior he portrayed: this powerful, quiet man was trembling in your arms.

No matter the time that has passed since his confession back in Maldo Kreis, when he thought you'd find death at the hands, well, teeth, of giant spiders. He had, since then, been completely undone by you, and each time he touched you―such reverence on every tip of his finger that grazed your skin, he made sure to prove nothing had changed since then.

He's quick to get rid of his garments, not without a little help from you to quit most of his armor.

"Din" you breathe as soon as his body is free―everywhere but face, your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. You tug him closer, encouraging. "Don't stop"

He lets out a strangled sound that's half a groan, half a sigh of relief at your command.

"You have no idea," Din murmurs, voice thick with adoration, "how much I need you"

He pulls back, and even though you can't see his eyes, you feel the vulnerability ooze from them. The way his breath picks up a quick pace, as if the effort of letting you see him like this is almost as consuming as the sight of you, underneath, ready for him. For a moment, it's like he's seeing through you, trying to commit every detail to memory.

You extend your hands, letting him take them. You caress them until the trembling stops, guiding them to your hips. His hands grip the skin of your hips like you were his anchor.

Din was, if anything, willingly, desperately, surrendering to you.

"Don't be afraid" you softly coo, voice barely above a whisper, "it's not our first"

"Please" he whispers, pained. It was a plea, asking permission to let the mental armor off so he can fall apart in your arms.

"Let yourself go, Din. Let me help you" you whisper. "Now, tell me: what do you want?"

"You" he answers without missing a beat, trepidation laced in his breath, "just you"

He grabs your shirt, jacket long discarded on the floor without caring; it's a miracle you didn't throw it over Grogu's sleeping form.

"Can I?"

You nod, breathlessly. "Yes"

He pulls the fabric over your head, fingers fumbling with your pants.

"Why do you carry guns inside the house?" he protests, undoing your belt.

"When you take the knife out of your shoe, I will"

Suddenly you're only in your underwear, shivering because of the cold.

"Dank farrik. We should've bought that heater, the fireplace barely feels there"

"Don't worry" he crawls down, between your opening legs, "I'll make you warm"

He looks up at you.

"Can I..." he starts, cracking in the last word, "...can I taste you?" Din's fingers slide to the waistband of your underwear, "please"

"But, your face-"

"You're right" he backtracks, "I don't know why I-"

You cut him off, "I can cover my eyes"

Din lets out what seems like a sound of pure relief, probably at the solution around his creed or the fact he'll get to taste you. Maybe it's the lust speaking over his rationale, but he's saying:

"Why hadn't we thought about that before?"

"I think fighting Imps and trying to keep Grogu safe took all the time"

He sports a crooked grin under the helmet. "This is the way"

You click your tongue, "You wouldn't be too happy if I was the one saying that"

You don't waste more time.

Your hands reach out to his helmet, slowly pulling it off. He stops you before you get to see more than his chin.

"Close your eyes" he mutters with a quiet, vulnerable, raw voice. It is equally thick with desperation, more than before.

"I will"

The helmet comes off with a hiss. All you see is dark, hands holding to the beskar.

"I have an idea"

You hear Din's breath hitch, a small yelp dying on his lips. Lips you'd die to see.

The helmet feels heavy on your head, and you wonder if he feels so too or it's used to it at this point.

"Don't worry" you throw your head back, "eyes on the roof"

You sense his hesitation, "I'm not looking"

It takes some minutes for him to reply, "I know"

"Then" you extend your hand, "what's wrong?"

You feel him draw closer, search the warmth of your hand. And then, it happens.

Your body freezes, feeling him place his cheek on your palm, rubbing against it. You cup it on instinct, the rough of his stubble tickling. You giggle, fighting back tears.

"You haven't cut it"

"I know you like it"

You laugh with glossy eyes he can't see, your heart swelling with the intention.

"But I can't see it"

The bed cracks as he lowers himself. "I'm sorry. I just... I really wanted to taste you. I've thought... about it, for so long. What your lips would taste like, how you-" he cuts his rambling off, whispering his thoughts out loud. "I'm not an... expert. I have never done it before. But I know I can make you feel good. I'll be so good for you, I promise"

Heat runs straight to your core, making it clench around nothing.

"Yes" you breath, giving him permission.

Din's hands grip your thighs as he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear and slowly pulls them down.

"Cyar'ika..." he breathes, "you're so beautiful"

And then his mouth's on you.

It's a bit clumsy, slow enough to feel both deliberate and unsure. It may be just Din, maybe having him like this for the first time, anyone, but its devastating.

The way he explores you with his tongue, learning every fold, sensitive spot, taking his time, dragging the flame that's set in your belly, knot tightening as your toes curl. It's overwhelming: the intensity of his focus, the way he seems hellbent on putting your pleasure first―making you feel something.

"Din" you call shakily, hands falling to your sides into fists curled on the sheets as the pressure builds higher and higher, a tight coil ready to snap. It becomes almost unbearable, your knuckles turning white. "I-"

Without thinking, your hands fly to his hair, feeling the brown strands you once saw at Moff Gideon's ship, fingers curling as they pull on locks that have grown longer since then.

Din stops. You gasp at the loss, forcing yourself not to look at him.

"Wh- What happened? Did I hurt you?" you ask, voice laced with urgency and panic as you try to catch your breath.

His voice is rough, "Do it again"

You falter, unsure if you heard well. "What?"

"Please, do it again" he rasps, drunk in pleasure. "Pull my hair. I... I liked it"

Devoid of the helmet, his voice rings much clear, intentions even more obvious.

The confession sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. Hesitating, you reach for his hair again, consciously this time, feeling it in your fingers, playing with it until his breath rags softly and you feel the damp of his sweat pour through your tips. Finally, you tighten them again, pulling harder this time.

A low moan falls from his lips before he dives back in, mouth more demanding, hungrier.

In response, you grip and pull another tug that evokes a ragged, beautiful sound from his throat. His body trembles with intoxicating pleasure as his mouth dives into you yet again.

Every movement of his tongue, every suck of your cunt: he wasn't trying to just get you off, Din was, like everything he did, trying to prove his loyalty and love with actions; no words were easy, but showing you he was yours, his devotion, like this, he could do it.

You can feel his moans vibrating against you, little whimpers of pleasure that he can't hold back every time you tighten your grip.

"Din" you gasp.

Your hips start to move against his face, chasing friction as the pressure builds within.

"Are you close?" Din rasps, and it takes all of you to not look at him. All you can do is imagine the sight of his glistening lips, pupils blown wide. How undone he might look, just by testing you.

You can only nod, a half cry getting lost in the air.

His movements become more focused, determined. His lips seal around you, and it's the closest you'll get to a kiss.

Your vision begins to blur. You pull his hair again, harder this time, with a sharp yank that makes him cry against you.

The coil snaps, pleasure crashing into you as the vibration was the final push to fall into your orgasm, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, blinding you.

He laps softly as you ride your orgasm, like a starving dog until you're left limp and trembling, legs barely able to hold you up.

"Din"

Like hypnotized by your voice, he stops the kisses on your inner thighs and looks at you, feeling his gaze burn over your spent body.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me"

There's silence where you sense both his discomfort and insecurity.

Your chest aches. "I won't look. Kiss me, please"

You hear him sigh. "You won't look?"

"No" you gulp, throat dry, "but before you cover yourself again, let me know what it's like to kiss you"

"Cyar'ika..." he warns.

"I'll be a good girl, Din. But I- I need to do it. I haven't stopped thinking about it since I saw your face. I won't even look at it. Just let me... let me kiss you"

He stays, still.

"Okay" he whispers, voice hoarse. "I'll do it"

You only manage a breathless nod. "Okay... That's okay"

Any price to pay would be worth it if it meant getting to kiss him for the first time.

A fine tremor still runs through him as he removes the helmet. When he lifts it off your face, you hear him sigh in relief at the sight of your closed eyes.

"Good girl" he mumbles, reigniting the fire in your belly.

"Can I... Will you ay least let me touch you?"

He stops, and you know he still hasn't put his helmet on.

"If I can't see you..." you swallow. "I want to touch you, Din"

He doesn't refuse nor allow it.

"Don't deny me" you plead.

"Will it-" he stops, dragging out the words, "will it make you happy?"

You nod.

Then, his hand finds yours, interlocking his fingers with your own. They land on his face, eyes softly tracing through his skin, rough little hairs, and swollen lips, while his breath stutters with desperate hunger.

"Kiss me now"

He leans in, unsure at first, until he's all over your mouth. You feel him stop, heartbeat picking up.

"Do it again"

He locks your mouth onto his, messy, and hungry, like he had a taste of you and now it isn't enough. It will never be.

Like he wants to devour you, memorize the inside of your mouth for something that'll probably never happen, the violation of something so sacred―but your love might be the only religion he will bend his knees for tonight.

The kiss feels like a dying star: exploding, but a light that never goes out. It only fades, into a memory you'll fall yourself asleep too, hidden within desire and the echoes of your heart, chasing that feeling, that high, you'll never get back. Putting your fingers over your lips, to remember his kiss, to feel something. A pressure, to suffocate the one over your heart.

But for now, it's enough.

Because Din bending the rules of his creed for you is proof of his unyielding heart.

And it belongs to you. All of it, tonight.

"Please" he whispers against your lips, the word a needy sound. "I need to be inside you. Please, I need to feel you. Show you you're mine"

You call his name in a cry as he crawled up over you, body covering yours.

"Cyar'ika" he whispers with raw devotion.

The helmet locks. You look up.

"Din" you whisper, looking at the man you love.

He settles between your legs, hips pressing forward, hard length straining against his pants.

Din's breath comes in harsh, uneven pants.

"Do it" you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down, guiding him to your entrance. He slowly pushes inside, a broken whine coming out of his mouth, "make me yours"

He fills you completely in an aching stretch, but it burns so good.

He doesn't move, just stays there, buried deep inside you, breath in harsh, uneven puffs under his helmet. he was trembling, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants.

"Please, don't let me go" he whispers, voice muffled against the beskar. "I love you"

"I won't" you promise, "I love you"

Something breaks by the way he looks at you, even through his visor. You feel the intensity of his stare and his moves, slow at first, then with a little more confidence. His thrusts were deep and messy, not fast but laced with desperate want.

Every sound Din makes is a broken whimper, some sounding like your name. He was also clingy, hands never leaving your body, one in your hip, the other laced with your fingers. Even if you can't see his face, the intimacy of everything is overwhelming.

This isn't just sex, but a confession: Din, laying himself bare, every scathed piece under the unbreakable beskar. And you take them as they are, holding him close, meeting his thrusts, whispering words of encouragement against his helmet.

"Say it again" he pants, voice hoarse with emotion, "that you love me"

"I love you, Din" you whisper firmly. You bite back a scandalous moan, "as long as the galaxy stands"

The words seemed to fuel something raw in him, unraveling a desire that makes each thrust deliberate, with an edge: he's desperate to claim you, to mark you as his own.

"Mine" he croaks out, rhythm faltering as his own release starts to build, "all mine"

You come first, a soft cry falling from your lips. Your walls tighten around his length, and that's what makes him come. He looks at the roof, letting out a gasp while his body shudders under the force of his release, a broken call for your name spilling from his lips.

Before his body gives out, you feel it: the strain of holding back, of being the first time.

A single tear rolls from under the helmet and falls over your body.

"Din-"

Wordlessly, he collapses on top of you, body weight pressing you into the mattress. It feels lighter, somehow, than the nights cuddled in the cramped space of the old Razor Crest.

His body, scarred and soft, still trembling through the aftershocks, pale from not seeing the sun and flushed because of earlier events―it's yours for the night.

Din's face remains hidden, yet you can tell he looks at you with quiet, tender, loving eyes.

"Please stay"

You reach up, pulling him closer by his neck.

"I promised I would"

He makes a pause before speaking again.

"...Forever?"

"Well" you look next to you, where Grogu is fast asleep still. It seems nothing can wake him up, "you guys need me"

"That's not what I meant-"

"...as much as I need you too"

He chuckles softly, and you can picture a smirk drawn over those lips you touched moments ago. Kissed, for the first time.

"Din, look at me"

He turns towards you. "I am"

You find his hand, pulling it to kiss knuckles that have killed many men, that have pulled the trigger to end lives. The same ones that pull you closer as he lays next to you, bodies seeking each other's warmth.

"I'm here" you whisper, as faithful as a prayer. Your own creed, "and I'm not going anywhere"

You giggle gently when Din pushes you back, his bare fingers grabbing your waist like it's the only place they have ever belonged.

"You're not gonna back out, are you?" you whisper once he has trapped you between his broad body and the wall of the razor crest. At this point, the need to press your lips against his, to touch his face and trace the mouth you have no idea what it looks like becomes unbearable. Like always when you are with him.

"No. Are you?"

That makes you burst into laughter, though you are not sure why.

You feel drunk. Drunk on him, drunk on his muscular body, drunk on the charged air that hangs heavily around you like dense fog.

"No. Why would I?" you murmur and trail your thumb along the visor of his helmet.

You have grown to love and resent it at the same time. You hate it because it is the only thing separating Din and you, it has taken so much from you and keeps taking more, but then again, it's him. It's part of his identity, whether you like it or not, so you would probably forever glare at that visor and feel like you're staring straight into his soul because you simply have to make your peace with what you have.

"I love you," you mutter, softly biting down on your bottom lip as you feel his grasp tighten on your waist.

"I love you too."

Sometimes, it's strange to let the curtains fall and give him so much while his expression and the depth of his eyes are hidden by his helmet. You doubt that you will ever get used to it, although tonight might change that experience.

His touch is feather light as he slides his hands up your sides, gently caressing the side of your breasts.

"I can't wait to feel you," you breathe, your eyes following the motions of his fingers. In response, one of Din's hands reaches up to cup your face, tilting it up a little. You wait for him to say something because you feel that the gesture has solely served the purpose of looking at you before speaking, but he doesn't, which makes you a tad nervous. After his thumb has tenderly swiped over the corner of your mouth, Din sighs heavily and grabs your wrist with his free hand.

"I… I'm ready. I think." He presses your hand against his heart, which allows you to feel his thundering pulse. You have always loved to rest your head on his chest, listening to his heart until you have fallen asleep and carrying the steady rhythm across the edge into the dreamlands.

"Okay," you smile, then take two large strides toward the door. You close it without a word but turn toward him while your finger hovers above the light switch.

Your grin is genuine, yet a little uncertain and vulnerable. Why wouldn't it be? What you are about to do requires trust and love, which you share for one another in unbelievable ways. This is just the last manifestation of that love, you feel.

After you have switched off the lights, the room is swallowed in darkness. There is not even the digital display of a clock or any red flashing lights that are somehow connected to the cockpit. No, Din and you have successfully removed any lamps or other sources of illumination from the sleeping place so that the two of you could carry out your plan exactly as you came up with it a few days ago.

"Follow my voice, sweetheart," you hear Din say, his voice still distorted from the helmet. Good. You have told him that you wish to be the one to take it off when the time comes.

Then, you stand in front of him all of a sudden, or at least you can feel the warmth his body radiates prickle on your skin. Your hands come up to rest on the side of his helmet while he places his palms on the small of your back.

"I'm nervous," Din admits quietly. The vocoder makes his voice sound even softer and more intimate, causing a shudder to ripple down your spine.

"So am I," you smile into the dark, standing on your tiptoes to gently kiss the side of his helmet. "But it's gonna be alright."

"I know it is," he murmurs, then drops his hands to the waistband of his pants. "Do you wanna do it? Or – "

You don't even let him finish with that and immediately begin undoing his pants and quickly yanking them to his knees. It's strange to do it blindly, but fortunately, your hands seem to be magically attracted by his heat and always know where to pull. After he has toed off his shoes and kicked off the piece of clothing, his shirt is next in line. You struggle a lot more with all the countless buttons and buttonholes, which draws a low chuckle from Din after a while.

"Do you need some help, darling?"

"I can do it," you protest and bite down on your lip in concentration, ignoring his teasing tone.

"I know that you can. I could make it faster though."

"Shut up," you scoff and finally slide his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop on the ground next to him. It's not needed anymore. In fact, you wish it would never be needed again and this moment would never end. The lights would forever be turned off, his body in its purest form forever pressed against yours.

The next thing you feel is Din running a hand from your hip up to your shoulder.

"Can I?" he asks like the gentleman that he is, tracing soothing circles over your skin.

"Yes… Unless you need my help, of course."

He only reacts with a quiet snort and then starts the same process you have just finished with your clothes. You stay still, your lips curved while you feel his hands all over your body, at your waist, your chest, your hips and thighs. Obviously, he does way more than he has to and slides his palms over your flesh long after your skin is already exposed. You don't mind it, of course, even though you can't wait to finally take off that last remaining thing on his body. Well, you have waited for years, which means you can also wait another few minutes. Especially when waiting feels so good with him…

When Din feels like he's done, he brushes your hair over your shoulder, making it fall down your back.

"You're really pretty… So pretty, it just – drives me insane." His voice is hoarse and raspy, and now that the air around you is dark, you're so much more aware of every little noise he produces. All your other senses work better that way, which prompts you to pay more attention to Din's unmistakable scent of peppermint and parchment. Both fresh and grounding.

"Thank you," you whisper and feel your heart rate pick up as your boyfriend leads you to your shared bed, which is just a mat on the floor of the Razor Crest, but over time the two of you have made it a very cozy corner with all those blankets and pillows.

Din sits down with his back against the wall, like the two of you have discussed it. You feel a tad dramatic thinking about how you have gone through every little step even though the two of you have slept together so many times before. Still… it's different tonight.

"It's weird," he laughs gently while you lower yourself to climb in his lap as elegantly as possible in the dark. "Not seeing you."

"Yeah, well… Now you know what it's like for me every time," you grin, relaxing the second Din has you securely in his hold and manhandles you on top of him. Your knees are on either side of his hips and your hands are on his helmet at once, lovingly gliding them along the metal. When it's one of the only things of him that is accessible to you, you learn to appreciate it regardless of what a burden it poses in your everyday life. It's him, after all. Even though the material is so much colder and sleeker than his skin.

"I don't know how I would do it. If it was the other way around." Din rubs your naked lower back while his head dips lower, resting against your chest. "I don't know how I could stand not seeing you."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" you murmur and hope he doesn't notice the tremor in your tone.

Tears well in your eyes at his words, not because you're mad at him or disappointed in him but because he has hit a nerve. You don't know how to stand it most nights as well, and these feelings are so complex, you're not sure you are capable of understanding them yourself. How could you possibly try to explain them to him? You love him so much, it hurts not to be able to look into his eyes. And you hate that you can't see him without his helmet, but what is possibly even harder is accepting that there is no one you can channel your anger to. It's not his fault, so all you can do when he apologizes to you is kiss the top of his helmet, tell him that you're not mad at him and mean it. Because you do.

"Thank you," he growls and slides his hands up your spine, pressing you against his frame with so much force, you gasp quietly. "Thank you for – for doing all this shit. For – giving me the choice to love. I never – I never believed it would be an option. So what you're doing to me is the greatest gift I could ever imagine."

You don't answer at once because you fear you might burst into tears if you do. Instead, you bury your hand in the nape of his neck and rub his warm flesh, just feeling and savoring his presence. It's Din, it's the person you love regardless of any night you spend awake, staring at the ceiling and craving things you know you'll never have. It's the man you would sacrifice anything for, the man you quite literally travel through space for. Just to be with him.

"Can I… Can I do it?" you ask after a while, straightening up to make out his helmet in the dark.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Whenever you feel ready."

The truth is, you have felt ready for months, yet you take another beat, exhaling heavily before your trembling fingers drop to his neck.

"I'm really nervous," you chuckle and swallow hard while you start lifting his helmet.

"So am I… You don't know how much…"

The helmet is weightier than you have expected it, but it grounds you in some strange way. When you're done, you place it on the floor next to you, careful not to give it a scratch. Everything that follows once you sit upright is more overwhelming and more breathtaking than you could have ever anticipated. It's just a helmet, that's all. It's absolutely ridiculous to be so taken aback just by the fact that he is sitting in front of you without that single item, but you can't help it. Your heart is thumping in your chest, your hands trembling even harder as you put them on his chest.

"Hey." Your voice is breathy and weak, which is no surprise considering you're shaking like a leaf.

"Hey…" Din sounds different, though it is still undoubtedly him. Just… a lot clearer and closer than before. Maybe a little deeper as well.

"I… Can you say my name, Din?"

He does, and it causes a tear to roll down your face, catching on your upper lip. After that, you draw a deep breath and snivel faintly, which prompts him to cup your cheek with his hands and wipe the single drop away.

"Can I touch you?" you ask next, feeling grateful that he doesn't try to comfort you in your tears. It's simply what you need right now, and it feels too good to blink the wetness away. You don't know if his voice attempting to calm your demeanor would cause your tears to dry or only make you cry harder, but you don't want to find out, really. For now, everything is fine, even in spite of the overwhelming emotions you go through, the ups and downs and the helplessness spreading through your system.

"Yes. Wherever you want, darling."

You start at the base of his neck because it feels right to make your way up slowly. Meanwhile, Din's hands settle on your sides, tracing slow patterns but leaving you in control of the pace, the passion of the moment and everything else, which you appreciate. You can take all the time in the world, touch and explore his skin for as long as you want to, and you have a feeling in your gut that it is going to take a long time until you're done.

"Din?" you murmur after a few minutes, your hands lingering just below his chin now.

"Yes."

"Can you – describe it again?"

"Yes… Of course, sweetheart," he whispers and knows precisely what you want without you having to spell it out.

"I have hair on my face. Not a lot, not very thick hair… But some on my chin. And on my cheeks. And above my mouth."

You nod slowly, not minding that he can't see it.

"And your eyes are brown."

"Yes. They are. So are my eyebrows."

"And your nose?" You shift on his lap a little, moving closer to his chest.

"I don't – I have no idea how to describe noses, sweetheart."

The two of you laugh in unison, which causes a few tears to drip onto your own wrists. Then, your hands wander up further, and for the first time, you feel his chin beneath your fingers. Obviously, it's impossible to determine what he might look like just from feeling his bones and skin and hair, but you don't care about that right now. As he has told you, there is stiff hair that pokes into your fingertips when you trail your fingers over his beard. When you move them along his jaw, you can detect the end of it close to his ear.

"Careful, darling," Din whispers and squeezes your waist. "Don't hurt yourself. They can sting."

"I don't mind. I like it. That you have hair on your face."

Truthfully, you haven't met many people with beards before. Most people in the small town you grew up in were clean-shaven. You don't know why that is, but there is one thing you know for sure: you really adore what Din's face feels like beneath your touch.

While your boyfriend's palms travel up your thighs, you work your way up his face until you find his nose, which seems broad with a small curve in the bridge. You trace it with your fingertip, then move along his nostrils.

"I like it," you smile broadly, shifting yet another inch closer until your chest is flush with him.

"You like my nose, baby?"

"Yes… I think it's very beautiful."

After you're done with his eyebrows and forehead as well, you lean in and kiss his chin. It's strange to feel his beard tingle against the skin around your mouth, but most importantly, your body is flooded with joy and relief. You can't count how many times you have wished you could cover his face with kisses, his mouth, his cheeks, his chin, nose and forehead, and now, you finally get to do it.

"Din," you whisper, more tears falling from your waterline.

"I know, baby… I know." The charged air stirs as he speaks. You can't help it anymore, you lean in, close the distance and press your lips against his. You have experienced many vast and touching moments in your life, but this one definitely counts as one of the grandest of them all. At first, you forget how to breathe, your lungs forgetting how to work, as though petrified, just like the rest of you.

"Breathe, darling…" Din calms you, noticing your quick, uneven breathing. All you can do is whimper softly, your lips hovering inches above his soft mouth. Everything about him is so incredibly warm and mellow, even the sharp hairs on his chin, if that makes any sense.

"I want – " you start but don't finish the sentence because you don't know how to express the needs and wants you feel so deep in your stomach.

"I know… I know, darling. I got you. Do you wanna lay down?"

You nod since you feel that it might be best to give up some control for Din to take the reins. You feel exhausted just from the simple act of holding yourself up in his lap, and your body is still shaking so hard, you wish to just be covered by his wide, muscular shoulders. But there is one thing you demand, one thing you definitely can't go without yet.

"Please kiss me," you mumble while Din carefully flips you over, a knee pressed between your thighs and his body caging you in.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart…"

He is so unbelievably cautious and tender with you, it makes you think of yourself as a breakable vase or a glass sculpture. Every single gesture, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers teasing the swell of your breast as well as his deep, vibrating voice when his mouth hovers close to your ear. He kisses you everywhere, on your chin, on the tip of your nose, on your brow, your hairline, your ear and even your eyelids. That last part makes you giggle so hard, Din joins you, and for a while he just rests on top of you, his face squeezed against your brow as the two of you calm down from your outburst.

"I wanted to do this so badly… Kissing you. Kissing every part of you, my love. I don't – I don't even know how I made it so long without it. You're so beautiful, so perfect and I just – I need to show it to you." He has growled that last sentence against your temple.

Meanwhile, you bury your fingers in the back of his head, twisting the strands around your digits. Dark brown, as you know. At least that is what Din has told you. When you asked him about whether they were curly or straight, he wasn't able to give you a straight answer and said that they were flat after a long day of wearing the helmet but curly right after a shower.

"Please, Din," you beg him and sling your legs around his waist, trapping him against you.

"Do you want me to show you?"

"Yes. Yes, please." You have no clue what he has in mind for you, but it doesn't matter as long as it's him doing it. You would prefer it if it involved his face since this is the one time he has taken off his helmet, but regardless, you're not going to complain. Din shifts on top of you again, kissing you on your mouth and sliding his hand down your front.

"Are you gonna let me kiss you there? Between your legs?"

Your breath hitches at the proposition, your teeth instinctively grazing your bottom lip. He has touched you there before, made you unravel with his skilled hands, but his helmet has made it impossible to do that so far. You don't hesitate for obvious reasons and instead nod over and over again, so rapidly that you're positive Din senses the movement despite the darkness engulfing the two of you.

"Yeah?" he says, the grin tangible in his tone.

"Yes. I would love that."

"I've always wondered what you taste like, love… You look so pretty down there, and you're… so soft." He talks like he's already dreaming about putting his mouth on you, though he is still at your lower belly, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your skin which leave wet patches.

"Are you gonna hold my hand, Din?" you whisper before he can dive in, blindly reaching down, but you can only grab air.

"Of course, sweetheart." You feel it, his fingers finding the tips of yours and then tangling them with his.

"Anything you want… I just wanna make you happy."

"I am already," you laugh quietly, parting your thighs wider as you feel him settle between them, his face on the same level as your wet cunt.

"Well, then I want you to be even happier."

"I don't deserve you," you mutter under your breath, gripping the pillow next to you with your unoccupied hand to brace yourself for whatever his lips on your pussy is going to feel like.

"You're saying you don't deserve me… You and me both know that's not true. You're a goddess. And all I can do is make an effort every single day and hope to at least be worthy of you one day."

"Shut up," you chuckle, lightly squeezing his hand while you feel heat rise in your cheeks.

"I'm just telling the truth, darling…"

You want to reply to him, but whatever you would have come up with catches in your throat as Din encloses your pulsing clit with his lips in that moment.

"Huh. Fuck…" you groan and throw your head back, digging your nails in his flesh in a way that must surely be painful for him. But you just can't help it with the small electronic waves undulating in your system, your heartbeat quickening. You need something to hold onto and bury your claws into when the tension becomes overbearing.

"Din," you whimper, rocking your hips forward to show him how much you enjoy his treatment. He has his lips around your bundle of nerves, kissing and sucking it into his mouth while his index finger drags through your folds to play with your wetness. He doesn't push in yet, he just toys with you, keeps you on the edge of your seat, offers additional sensation to the swipes across your clit.

The experience is so new and familiar at the same time. It's like you can feel Din through and through with every single fiber of your being, and it's so unmistakably him, but then again, it has never been like this before. It's good, though. That much you can tell already.

"You taste perfect… So sweet and warm… Even better than I imagined." His voice sounds a little muffled with his head trapped between your thighs, but you can still understand him clearly.

"Feels – very good."

"Yeah? You like this more than just my fingers?"

You think about his words for a moment, remembering what it feels like to have his thumb press gentle circles into your clit.

"You don't have to decide, princess," Din chuckles deeply and hollows his cheek to apply pressure, then lets the little nub go with a plop.

"I like both. Equally."

"How about this then?" he whispers and begins feeding you two of his digits, his index and middle finger. Since you're properly drenched, it doesn't take a lot of work for him to work them inside, and you only feel a slight sting while your walls opening up welcomingly for him, which Din rewards with a low growl bubbling in the back of his throat.

"Oh," you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way he uses his teeth to carefully nibble at your clit. You don't even know which part to pay attention to, everything is so good, you wish you could preserve the thrill, store it in the back of your mind and come back to it whenever you feel the wish to. It's overwhelming and messy, still you wouldn't want it any other way.

"I wish I could see you…" he mutters after a while during a brief break to catch his breath. The fingers thrusting and curling inside you don't come to a stop, though, which continuously causes sweat to gather on your forehead.

"I wish I could see you too, Din," you whine into the darkness, gripping his hand so tightly, you fear you're cutting off his blood flow.

"Fuck… The way you sound, baby. How you say my name… Just keep saying my name, love, okay?" He dives back in, which doesn't allow you to respond. You can't, given the way your head immediately starts spinning as he draws circles around your clit with his tongue, his spit smeared all over your pussy. You love when he plays with you for so long, there is wetness everywhere, on your thighs, on your lower belly and on his hand and wrist. Now, with his tongue swirling around your clit, he can add even more lubrication by trickling his spit onto you, which you find beyond endearing.

"Din," you squeal, rolling your hips into his face, which he praises with a dark grunt.

"That's it, sweetheart… Just like that. I just want you to feel good, I want you to take anything from me. You're so fucking pretty, so good for me. You taste like honey, darling… So perfect." His sweet talk, but above all his husky tone, causes you to turn even more feral. Soon, you scratch the back of his hand like a rabid animal, panting heavily while stars dance across your vision.

"Oh fuck. Din, I – " You want to tell him that you're close, that it might only take one last swipe to push you over the edge, but it takes you another two attempts until you can spill it out.

Din doesn't rush you. He acts like he's willing to spend another two hours between your legs, and that feeling stretches even after you have come down from your thrilling high which has left you gasping for air greedily. By now, your limbs are sprawled out and even your hand still grasped by Din is lifeless and limp.

"Fuck…" you sigh and lift your head only to remember that it isn't just your sight that's black but the room is actually darkened.

"How are you feeling, my love?" he murmurs and glides his hand up your thigh without attempting to change his position. He's ready to go for a second round, but for now, you have different wishes.

"Din…" you whimper, threading through his silky hair.

"Yes… Is everything okay? Do you need something?"

"Yes," you groan and gently tug at his strands. "Please… Come here, I – I want you to fuck me."

Yes… that's it. His weight on top of you, his lips all over your face like before, his cock driving in and out of you. You can't come up with anything more appealing than this imagination.

"You want me to fuck you? Is that right?" he chuckles but follows your request by crawling up to you. The mat tangibly dips under his weight and you feel your skin burn where he touches you instantly. And shit, he touches you everywhere. Your chests are flush against each other, his hips seem to fit against yours perfectly and now his lips are on the curve of your neck where he inhales deeply as if to savor your scent.

"Yes… Please. I need you to be inside me. Deep. I want – "

You stop again because you feel frustrated all of a sudden. Fuck, you don't know what you want, you just want him in every way there is, you want every version of him, you want him always and all the time and – most importantly, you don't want him to ever put that mask on again. You know that you're being selfish and insensitive for thinking that way, but this is just your mind, and it's the one place you can allow yourself to feel everything. It's the truth. You wish Din wouldn't touch the helmet again and let you see him from now on. Obviously, you would never ask it of him, you wouldn't even say that thought out loud, but it's how you feel deep inside.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Din asks, sensing the panic resonating in your voice.

"I just – want you. Please."

"I'm right here, baby…" He brings his mouth to yours again, parting his lips to show you just how present he was.

"You feel that, darling? You feel me? That's me burning for you."

At first, you're unsure whether he's talking about his hungry lips, but then you feel a bulge grinding against your thigh. He's rock hard with want.

"Do you want it inside?"

The question is unnecessary in your head, but you know that Din likes to edge you and make you wait just a little longer when you need it the most. It's the only time you think of him as mean, maybe except for when he had a long day and is a little snappier than normal.

"Yes. I want it, Din. I wanna feel you in my belly."

"Naughty girl…" he chuckles roughly but guides his tip to your slit as if it has been a command. "I want you to breathe with me, love. Do you hear me breathing?"

He stays silent so that you can listen to him drawing in his heavy breaths.

"Yes."

"Good… I want you to breathe with me. And relax… I'm right here, baby. Right here on top of you, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours, darling. And I will be forever. I don't even have a choice, because I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life."

Naturally, his words make you tear up, your throat bulging as you swallow.

"I love you."

At his last word, he starts pushing inside you, sliding in effortlessly due to the extensive procedure of preparing you for him. It probably also has to do with the fact that your body is completely at ease as it rarely is. You can't see his face in the dark, but right now, you feel like you do. The contours, at least. But it doesn't matter really because what the two of you have is greater than the dark or that helmet or the distortion of his voice when he speaks to you.

"Din," you whimper, closing your lids as you feel him fill you with his length. He's massive, thick enough to stretch your walls beautifully and long enough to reach deep inside you, right there where you're particularly sensitive.

And he knows. He knows where you need it, where to press firmly and where to treat you with cautious care. He can play your body like an instrument, which is why you pant like a dog minutes after he has started fucking you. His hips crash into yours, his thumb attached to your clit like there's not a single more attractive place to him and his lips showering you with kisses, just as he promised.

"So g-good," you stutter and move your hands over his cheeks, drinking in the feel of him because you know it's something you can't do often. The coarse hair, the wrinkles you trace on his brow, the sweaty temples.

"You feel incredible, princess. So good for me. Feels like your body was only made for me… To be filled by me."

"Mhm… yes," you shriek. At this point, Din has found a steady rhythm, causing your body to jolt up on the mat and your head to be pushed into the cushion below, which you don't mind in the slightest. You're comfortable with the blankets and pillows around you, but most importantly, Din is on top of you, and fuck, he is really set on making you feel wonderful tonight. At one point, he stops while deeply buried inside you, just to give you a moment to experience the fullness.

"Do you like that, baby?" he whispers in your ear, then kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Yes. Yes, Din, so much… Please."

"Please what?" he asks, sounding genuinely interested to hear what you crave so badly in order to give it to you.

"I want you to cum inside me," you whisper and arch your hips to get closer to him.

You know that Din is going to pump you full of his seed if you ask him. He nearly always does when you demand it, even though both of you know that it isn't the right thing to do. The right thing would be for Din to pull out before he orgasmed and for you to stop putting such ideas out into the open. But sometimes, bad things feel too pleasant to do the right thing, and tonight of all nights, you can't bring up the strength to be tough.

"Anything you want, love," he utters, and you haven't expected anything else. "But first, I want you to cum again. You think you can do that?"

His finger lightly ghosts over your cheekbone before his mouth falls onto yours once more, stealing away your breath and ability to speak. Part of you wonders why he even asks you that if he's going to silence you with his lips anyway, but a larger part just melts into his touch like butter under the sun. You reach your apex moments after that, which takes you by surprise. Like so often, your body betrays you and unravels at an unexpected time, just because Din is making you feel so incredibly good, pressing his thumb into your blazing clit, his cock sliding in and out of you slowly but forcefully.

"Fuck…" you whine out, limbs stretching away, which surely must create a rather unnatural and strange view if anyone could have seen it. Something within you explodes for the second time tonight, coating your vision white for a brief second before warmth floods through your veins. A beat after your body and soul have come back together again and you blink away the heaviness on your lids, you realize that Din is a split second away from orgasming as well, which prompts you to drape your arms around his neck and yank him closer to you. Without a word, you kiss him, but you hope he still knows all the things you haven't said from the way you devour him.

"I'm gonna cum, darling… fuck. Gonna – fill you up – Oh shit. Oh shit, oh – "

His head crashes into your face, his brow resting against your cheek while you feel his warm release overflow your spent pussy. This moment, the skin of his face and yours connected, is so remarkable and special to you, you already know that you're going to hold it close to your heart. Forever. Sure, you hope that this hasn't been the first and last time Din and you turn the lights down in the bedroom so that he can take his helmet off, but this night, the first time he makes love to you with his face revealed, is exceptional.

"Fuck…" Din groans, his nose scrunched against the side of your face. "Fuck, the way you took my cum, baby… So perfect. Made for me, like I said earlier. You see how perfectly we fit together? How perfectly your pussy takes me every single time?"

His voice is quiet, so intimate and close that you feel it vibrate on your skin as well as in your chest and stomach and even your thighs.

"Yes… So good – Din."

By now, you can barely hold your eyes open, which Din hasn't noticed earlier for obvious reasons. But now, given that you are babbling like you are drunk, he exhales gently, which resembles amused laughter.

"Are you sleepy, princess?"

"Yes. So sleepy, Din."

The darkness doesn't help in the slightest, no, it rather makes you feel like you're already in the lands of dreams. Your muscles are languid and heavy, your mind drowsy and your pussy just a little bit sore. Not enough to feel genuinely uncomfortable but enough to wish to spend the rest of the night in Din's arms while he holds you against his chest.

"That's okay… That's okay, love," he coos and rolls off you to tug you closer to his collarbone. "It was a lot today… But you did so wonderfully. I'm so proud of you. And I'm – I'm sorry."

The next day, when you try to remember what he has said to you a moment before you have dozed off, you're not sure whether he has actually apologized or if it has happened in your mind.

The part that throws you off is that apologizing didn't quite fit into the conversation because what would he be sorry for? For the staggering orgasm he has just given you? Well, you don't know if he has truly said it, but what you know is that you have been granted heavenly rest after that night.

Naxore was never what one considers a paradise, but the dusty planet never looked as ashen as it did from this distance.

It was small, but it managed to house about one thousand citizens. From his experience, they're good people. They mind their own business and require very little from the galaxy. Most of what they eat and use gets produced right on the planet itself. It's small, ugly, and hardly a blip on the radar. This never stopped the people who live there from loving it with their whole hearts.

When he first arrived all those years ago, ship in desperate need of repair and Din in desperate need of hiding, the citizens welcomed him. They fed him and cleansed his wounds without a second thought. They put their lives and their little planet in danger to keep him safe. And when he left, the doctor who tended to him and gave him a bed said, Keep Naxore a secret.

And he did. But whenever Din had the chance, he would stop by and pay them a visit. He brought goods and wares from other planets, trinkets and toys for the children, and anything else he could think of they might find useful.

He always stayed with the doctor, whose wife passed on before Din had ever arrived, but still had a daughter.

You.

He told himself he was being kind, that the reason for his visits were virtuous, but deep down he knew it was you that kept him coming back. After every visit, he became more and more infatuated. Less and less time would pass before his next trip, just so he could get a glimpse of you, and when he was away, his thoughts were consumed with your laugh, your smile, the way your eyes sparkled when he unveiled to you whatever little gift he brought. He thought of you constantly. He longed for the conversations you would have, all alone, late at night around the fire. He grew hooked on your every word, eager to learn as much about you as possible. You would tell him stories of your mother, of the children at the school where you taught, how worried you were for your father as he aged.

You never once spoke of a partner, and he never asked. It would be considered too forward. Besides, what sort of life could he offer you if he tried to make you his? A bounty hunter, living a life of danger with no real home?

No, you were safer with your father.

Still, he enjoyed his visits. It temporarily satiated his thirst to be near you, to listen to you speak, to watch the way your nimble fingers worked to mend clothes or knead bread.

Din didn't have many pleasures in life, but that was certainly one of them.

So as he began his descent and saw your little planet was barren, his heart sunk. He discovered once he stepped off the Razor Crest that what little trees and foliage you had are burnt to a crisp. Everything is grey, death looms everywhere. Corpses, nearly skeletons now, litter the streets. Buildings collapsed, rubble crunch under his boots, and the entire town is silent, yet he still follows the familiar path to your father's house. He knows what he's going to find, but he can't stop himself.

Sure enough, when your house comes into view, his suspicions are confirmed. The entire building is leveled to the ground. He stumbles a moment, fighting the pain swelling in his chest. Not much is recognizable, but there is a chair that used to be in the sitting room. The same chair you used to sit in while he regaled you with his stories.

He falls to his knees then, and dips his head, fighting the urge to cry. He isn't even sure why he bothers. No one is alive and he still has his helmet on, yet he still blinks back tears.

You were so young and beautiful. You had your whole life ahead of you. You were kind and thoughtful and patient with the children in your class and with your father.

His gloved hand digs angrily into the dirt, fingers curling like he could find some answer for his pain. If he just visited more — if he took you with him, like he always wanted — maybe you would still be alive.

He feels sick. Enraged. His heart splits in his chest and his body folds over, slowly, as if the weight of his agony was trying to bury him.

Just then, there's a noise. It sounds as though someone's walking over the rubble, albeit much softer than he just did. His breath stalls and he scans the area, freezing with his hand on his blaster when he spots the source.

He can hardly believe his eyes. Yet, there you stand. Dirty, ashen, hair a mess and clothes torn. But still, you're there.

He blinks and a tear slips past his defenses. He's convinced at first he must be hallucinating, but then you move again, looking at him like you must be thinking the same. Like he's a mirage.

When you get closer, his hand falls from his waist and he slowly brings himself to his feet. He refuses to tear his eyes away, afraid if he does, you'll disappear.

Finally, you slowly raise your hands to cup your mouth. Your eyes crinkle and streaks of wet trail down your filthy cheeks and you call out his name with a broken sob.

"Din."

He closes the distance in a heartbeat. His arms wrap around you and he feels your body heave, bawling and shaking in his arms. He murmurs your name, tells you you're okay, and promises to take care of you.

You nod and continue to cry. Your fingers grab at him, searching for comfort. They slide over his steel armor, feeble fingers clawing at unwavering metal, and he never before felt so angry. Angry at whoever did this to your planet. Angry at himself, for not doing more. Angry at the promise he kept to remain hidden behind a helmet.

He doesn't ask. He leads you to his ship, slowly. Your shoes aren't as good as his and your body seems weak and malnourished. But when it starts to grow dark and you stumble next to him, he scoops you up in his arms. A squeal of surprise slips past your lips but your arms wrap round his neck, anyway.

"You need rest," he says by way of explaination. "I can carry you the rest of the way. I have food and a warm bed. You'll be strong once again, and you will be safe."

You simply nod and lean your head against his shoulder. He feels your warm breath on his neck through his cowl and he has to resist the urge to strip himself of his armor and press his body to yours the second he gets you safely on the Crest.

He feeds you and gives you fresh clothes. He shows you to the fresher, where you can wash up, and promises to wait just outside the door in case you fall or need help. You don't, but he never once leaves his post. When you emerge, your eyes look sunken and puffy. You're exhausted and he knows there was no use in asking you for details that night. He ushers you to his bunk and you crawl inside, collapsing into his cot with a deep sigh of relief.

"I'm going to get us out of here," he says. You just nod with your eyes closed. "Call out if you need me," he adds before flicking off the light. He gives you one more glance before he ascends to the cockpit. You look comfortable. You look at peace. And you look fucking incredible in his clothes.

He stifles a growl and heads up the ladder.

His priority is to get you to safety. Everything else can wait.

---

"If you never take it off, how can you eat?"

Din's eyes flickered up to you through his visor. It's been two days. You nearly slept for one of them. You look healthier and more like yourself now. The sight made him happy, more relaxed.

"I eat alone," he explains. You're sitting across from him at the small metal table that folds out from the wall. You are halfway through your meal, which is nothing fancy, just some freeze dried rations, but based on the noises you made since the first bite touched your lips, you'd think you're eating fresh tiingilar.

Your eyes drop to the plate in front of him, untouched.

"Oh," you say, recalling from his prior visits when he would retire to his room to eat. You always thought it was due to exhaustion or perhaps he didn't want to hear you prattle on about nonsense like you had a tendency of doing whenever he lingered in your father's sitting room. It was always so hard to read him when his face and body was covered in armor.

"What if I turned my back?" you offer. His head tilts and his fingers thrum against the tabletop.

"I can wait," he assures you, then asks, "Will you tell me what happened?"

Your face falls and you look down sadly at your plate. You push around the food and drag in a shaky breath.

"We were attacked," you say. "It happened at night. They ransacked the town while everyone slept. I remember—"

You choke on your words and he stiffens.

"I remember going to the window when I first heard the shouting. I... they were dragging people from their homes. They took the women and killed the men."

Din stops breathing. His jaw tenses behind his helmet. You sniffle, then continue.

"My father built a small bunker underneath our home when I was a child," you say, wiping a tear from your eye. "He hid me down there and I begged him to join me, but he wouldn't — I begged him, Din."

Tears trickle down your face now. He reaches out a gloved hand to stop you, rests it on top of yours.

He knows it's a long shot, but still he asks, "Do you know who these people were?"

You shake your head somberly, eyes drifting now to his hand. You think it over for a moment before lifting your other hand to place on top of his. Your thumb idly rubs the tough fabric.

"I never found another living soul," you whisper. Din's gaze is still locked on your hands. "I searched for days. I suppose it's fortunate my father was a paranoid man."

"Your father was a careful man," he corrects. You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. He feels horrible because it's clear your heart is torn in two and filled with guilt, yet he sits across from you, brimming with joy and relief that you managed to survive.

"What will happen now?" you ask, "what will I do?"

He swallows and you must hear it because you tilt your head slightly.

"I can take you anywhere you want to go," he eventually says.

You laugh, but it sounds flat. You keep his hand sandwiched between yours when you say, "I have nowhere to go. I've never even left my planet before. I have no one. Well... except for you."

Your cheeks burn. You give his hand a little squeeze before letting it go and even through his gloves, he instantly misses the heat from your touch.

"Navarro is nice," he says, "I have people there that I trust. People who can help you get back on your feet."

"Oh," you breathe. Then you blink and drop your gaze to your lap, food long forgotten. "Yes, okay. That... okay."

He studies you through his visor. He can tell the idea makes you nervous. You're shifting awkwardly in your seat and anxiously chewing your bottom lip.

Then, he says something foolish. Something reckless and selfish.

"Or, you could stay with me. On the Crest. It's not much of a life, but—"

"Really?" you ask, cutting him off. You peer at him hopefully through your lashes and warmth spreads in his chest at being the object you chose to grace with that look.

"Of course. You're welcome here for as long as you wish. I just ask you listen to me," he tells you sternly. He wants to make sure you understand the seriousness of what he's trying to say, but you're practically bouncing in your seat from excitement. "It can get dangerous, at times. If I tell you to stay on the ship, you need to stay on the ship, no matter how bored you might be, or—"

"I will, I promise," you say before jumping up and rounding the table. He barely has a chance to blink before you throw your arms around him for a hug. It's clunky and awkward with his armor, but you don't seem to mind. You're grinning from ear to ear, the happiest he's seen you look in days. He inhales deeply, breathing in your scent through the filter in his helmet. It makes him dizzy. With his soap and clothes, you smell so good that it leaves him breathless.

"Thank you," you say softly. You pull back slightly to gaze up at him and for one second, he thinks you can actually see him. Your eyes lock on his and you hold it, and it all feels so real that it has his breath catching in his throat. Without thinking, one of his hands lifts to cradle your face. You immediately lean into his touch but your gaze never falters. Nobody has ever looked at him the way you did. It cuts him to the core in a way he never imagined.

The air between you grows too heavy and he can't resist quickly scanning your body. Through his visor, he picks up your heat signature is slightly elevated in your face and chest. And he tries to fight the urge, he really does, but he can't help scanning lower. He clocks the temperature between your legs and his cock stirs when his suspicions are confirmed.

"You said you've never left your planet."

His voice breaks the tension. You blink and nod with a smile before stepping back, creating some breathing room between you.

"You shouldn't hide down here, then. You're missing the entire galaxy. Let me show you the cockpit."

Your eyes flicker nervously to the ladder before slowly nodding.

"O-okay," you reply shakily.

Din frowns and reaches for your hand. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I think you'll like it."

Your shoulders square up. Your chin lifts confidently and he smiles when you say, "I trust you."

He climbs the ladder first, then reaches down to help you up. When you clamber to your feet and look around, your eyes grow wide and your lips part with wonder.

"Oh, my..." you breathe, gaze raking over all the lights and controls before settling on the huge windows. He can see the reflection of the stars in your eyes and he can't tear himself away. As he suspected, all traces of your earlier apprehension vanished. You're hypnotized by the way the bright stars stretch and swirl through hyperspace, completely enraptured.

"This view. It's... beautiful," you whisper, unblinking.

With his attention still fixed on you, he replies, "Yes, it is."

Your eyes dart to him and you try to bite back a shy smile when you realize he wasn't looking at the stars.

"I've never flown before," you tell him, "it's so incredible. I can't believe you can do this all on your own."

"Really? Never?" he asks, and you shake your head. "Then we should celebrate," he adds. Your eyes light up when he spins around to a small cabinet bolted to the wall and pulls out a half filled bottle of liquor. As he pours the dark red liquid into two glasses, he realizes he hasn't stopped smiling since you stepped foot in the cockpit.

"What is this?" you ask when you take the cup he offers you. You sniff it and your nose scrunches up.

"It's Mandalorian wine," he says, "try it, it's good."

You take a tentative sip then look up at him with surprise. "It's sweet."

"I don't have it often, it's hard to come by," he admits. Then his free hand unlatches his helmet and your eyes snap to the place his fingers hook under the edge. He swears he notices excitement flicker across your face for a brief moment before you turn around.

"I won't look," you promise.

He opens his mouth to tell you it was fine, that he was only lifting it a few short inches to take a drink, but he doesn't. He sips from his glass and allows himself to take you in fully without your heated gaze pinning him to the wall. He can just make out your reflection in the windows and you faithfully have your eyes squeezed shut, just in case you catch an accidental glimpse. He sips again and his eyes darken. He can feel his body responding to how obedient you are and it's growing uncomfortable.

He slips his helmet back down and when you hear the telltale hiss of the latch, your eyes open.

"Can I turn around now?"

A muscle flickers in his jaw. Fuck, you're such a good girl.

"Yes," he says, voice rough.

You pick up on his tone. Your face warms as you slowly turn around to face him and its imperceptible, but your thighs squeeze together in his fucking pants. It's a good thing you can't see him because underneath the helmet, he is fighting every urge to pull you into his arms. He's sure it's written all over his face. Maker, he wonders what it would be like to be touched by you, to be held by you, to be kissed by you. It's been so long.

You're nervous again, he notes, but not due to fear this time. Your gaze shifts around the cabin and you swallow thickly before pointing towards the controls.

"W-what do all these do?"

He follows your finger. You're pointing to the control wheel and dials right in front of his chair.

He sets down his mostly empty glass and sits. He begins to half heartedly tell you what certain switches and knobs do, and you nod along, sipping from your glass and leaning into the side of his chair.

You lean forward, across his lap, and squint at one particularly important looking lever.

"What about this?"

His eyes slide closed and he breathes deep. You're so close to him he can feel the warmth from your skin through the slivers of exposed fabric that lies underneath his armor.

"It— it's one of the controls that sends us into hyperspace," he mumbles. You hum curiously and take another sip, draining your glass. Your body still stretches over his lap as you study the control panel and he hopes you don't notice the twitching in his pants.

"One of?" you echo. Then your beautiful eyes find his visor. He swallows harshly, leather creaking over his knuckles.

"Yes," he rasps, "there's — well, there's levels I need to check first and a course needs to —"

He stops speaking when you straighten up and sidestep so that you're wedged between him and the control panel. He watches in a haze when your small hands wrap around the control column, right where his hands normally go to steer the ship.

His gloved fingers dig into the arms of his chair.

His legs straddle yours where you stand. If you sat, you'd be right in his lap. His hands twitch and his heart stutters in his chest. You're so fucking close, he could simply wrap one arm around you—

The ship hits an unexpected rough pocket and it jolts. It's small, nothing he would even wake up for, but you're not used to flying. Your knees give out and you fall back, right into his chest.

His arms circle your waist and you let out a squeak of surprise. Then your hands cover his. Instead of pulling them off your body, you tug them tighter and squirm a little in his lap, as if you're trying to get your bearings and stand, but it's taking just a little too long.

Din murmurs your name and you still.

"Cyar'ika, I'm a patient man. But you're testing me, and I think you enjoy it."

He can't see your face, only your back and shoulders, which tense at his words. There's a long pause as if you're trying to decide your next move and he holds his breath, hoping he didn't read things wrong.

Then, your shoulders drop.

Your fingers loosen around his hands but still remain in place, holding them to your stomach. When you tilt your face to the side and look at him over your shoulder, you give him a sly grin.

"Am I that transparent?"

He doesn't respond right away, but his cock does. It swells underneath you and a soft noise that has him forgetting how to breathe slips past your lips.

"Din—"

He shakes your hands off his so he can pull frantically at his gloves, one at a time. They drop to the floor, then his hands are back on you again. Your eyes flutter shut and you tip your chin up when you feel him — really feel him — for the first time as he explores the skin under your borrowed tunic. It has been so long since he's felt the warmth of another that it makes him weak. Under his helmet, his jaw drops open in wonder. You're breathing heavy, he can feel it, and it's making his vision blur.

He cups your left breast and you whimper before leaning into his hold. Stars, you're so soft and warm and perfect that he never wants to stop touching you.

Your body sags against his chest when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your back presses against his beskar and your head falls backward onto his shoulder with a loud thud. You wince and try to hide it, but he sees it.

"Sit up," he orders. He releases your breast and you whine but you do as you're told and lean forward so he can remove the metal that covers his upper body.

He eases you down so your back rests on his chest once again. Now, the only metal you have to contend with is his helmet and the plates on his thighs. When the back of your head comes to rest on his shoulder, you instantly twist so you can bury your face into the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply, like you're committing his scent to memory, before fumbling for his hand and guiding it down, past your waistline. His fingers dip underneath your pants and he bites back a groan. The fabric is oversized and loose, making it easy for him to find exactly what he's looking for.

"D-Din," you stammer when the pads of his fingers slide through your slit. Your head rolls and your lips part when you lift your hips off his lap, chasing his gentle touch.

You must hear how fast he's breathing. Even though the modulator muffles it, it's so loud it's impossible you don't notice.

"Maker, you're soft. So soft and wet," he murmurs. You preen a little in his lap, hips rolling so his two thick fingers slip through your cunt, spreading your folds and slick with each pass.

When he sinks both fingers past your entrance, your hand flies back, slapping loudly against the side of his helmet.

"Oh!" you cry out, fingers clutching uselessly at the metal. Your back arches off his chest with a wet gasp when he pushes in all the way to the knuckle, then he's shushing you. His distorted voice is trying to quiet you down but, as it turns out, you both want each other so badly that it's an impossible task, even for a Mandalorian.

"Do you know how long I've thought about this?" he asks, watching the way your eyes pinch shut and your jaw trembles each time his fingers drag in and out of you. Your backside writhes in his lap and he has to use his other hand to keep you still, wrapping it around your waist from behind and pressing his palm flat against your stomach.

"No," you shudder. You're coming apart so easily for him, heat blooming in your chest and cheeks the faster his hand moves down your pants — his pants. He's so hard, his stomach hurts.

"Years," he grits. "Each time I left, I dreamt of taking you with me. Dreamt of your perfect mouth, your beautiful eyes, your smile, your laugh—" He curses under his breath when you clench tightly around his fingers. He can't wait to feel you wrapped around his cock, squeezing him so tight and milking him for every last drop of his release.

"You came b-back for m-me," you stammer breathlessly. "Y-you — oh, f-fuck, Din—"

A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead. You're grinding down on his hand, back bowed and nails digging ruthlessly into his covered arm. You look so sweet, coming apart on his hand, moaning his name, that he wants nothing more than to kiss you, to taste you.

But, he can't.

So, he settles for driving you wild, for curling his fingers deep inside you, grunting in your ear, rubbing his palm against your clit until your lungs are empty and your entire body is pulled tight.

"Pl-please," you beg, "oh, please. Pleaseplea— I'm g-gonna come," you whine. You gasp hotly against his helmet, holding him so close with a hand still clutching at the back of his head that his visor fogs up.

"Come for me," he tells you shakily, even through the modulator. "Come for me and then I'll fuck this sweet little pussy, just the way I've always wanted."

That tips you over the edge. You moan his name so loudly that it echoes in the small room. You thrash your head around on his shoulder, body convulsing in his lap as he pulls every ounce of pleasure he can, and then your teeth find a small patch of exposed skin just above the collar of his shirt, below his ear. He swears when your teeth pinch him and his grip on you tightens, holding you steady until your orgasm slows and you relax in his arms.

He doesn't give you much time to recover. He can't. He's so pent up, it's making him dizzy. Sliding you off his lap, Din reaches down and pulls on his pants, lifting his hips and tugging the fabric down just enough to free his cock. You're still in a daze, slumped against his shoulder, chest heaving. When he tugs you back in place, leaning against his chest and sitting in his lap, he loosens your slacks, letting them pool to the floor.

In his crazed, lust-filled stupor, he manages to realize something through the fog. The position you're in — with your back pressed against his front — maybe...

His hand fumbles around until he finds the button he's looking for and he smacks it, probably louder than is necessary. You jump in his arms when the cabin goes black, the only lights filling the space are from some switches on the console, too dim to create a reflection. But, if you turn your head—

"Keep your eyes closed."

You open your mouth to ask the question, then clamp it shut and quickly obey. He regards you for a moment, just a moment. He trusts you. You wouldn't look.

A hand comes up to unclasp his helmet and it falls to the floor with a loud thud. You jump again but keep your eyes closed.

He says your name, voice clear to your ears for the very first time. You shudder in his arms and your brows pull together, like a blanket of warmth just passed over you. He smiles to himself, then his hand drops to grip his leaking cock. He presses the thick tip between your thighs and you twitch before spreading your legs as far as you can manage.

He can't wait any longer — his hips flex and you moan in unison as he slides inside your warm, perfect cunt. The way you clench around him, the noises you murmur in his ear — it all adds to the heat building at the base of his spine since you stepped foot in the cockpit.

"M-Maker—" he groans, "you feel so good."

Then you start to roll your hips, tight pussy gripping and fluttering around his length as you try to fuck yourself in his lap. Your legs drape over his thighs, feet dangling near his ankles, unable to graze the hard metal floor for support, yet you still try to work faster, just so desperate for him.

His hands grip your hips, helping you move. Your eyes are still squeezed shut but your mouth is open, gasping for air every time he pushes back inside to grind against a spot that makes you whine through your teeth.

"I've wanted you so badly, it hurts," you confess shamelessly. Something about not being able to see him makes you feel bold. "I would follow you anywhere, Din Djarin."

He groans and nips at your earlobe. You feel his chest rumble against your back and you smile. Your hand falls to where you're connected and your fingers spread, gasping when you touch him. He's thick and hard and soaked with your arousal.

"I always knew you must have had a nice cock," you whisper, still feeling emboldened with your eyes closed. "No one carries themselves the way you do without having the goods to back it up."

You cry out when his hips snap roughly against your ass, and your entire body is practically bouncing in his lap. If it weren't for his ironclad grip around your middle, you're sure you'd have fallen out of the chair.

"Keep — talking," he grunts. His wet tongue slides slowly up your neck before his lips pucker and he begins to suck a mark that will take days to disappear.

"I— I —" you stammer. He's fucking you so fast now, it's hard to think, let alone form a sentence. "I used to — to think about you — oh, f-fuck, right there—"

"Think about me?" he repeats, ignoring everything else.

"Yes," you hiss, then your hand reaches back to slide through his hair — it's thick and a little curly and you commit the feeling to memory before it's taken from you.

"I would think about you — wh-when I... when I would touch myself."

Your stomach muscles begin to bear down and your thighs go rigid. You're so fucking close, you can taste it.

"Yeah? You thought about me when you made yourself come? Thought about my cock in this tight pussy, just like this?"

His deep voice in your ear makes you shudder.

You nod with your mouth hanging wide open.

"Oh fuck," you whimper when the tip of his cock finds a sensitive spot deep inside. You writhe and roll your hips, eager to find the angle again, but Din knows. He knows what you need and he wants to be the one to give it to you, so his hands still your movements and he rocks upward. You're both breathless and sweaty, but it doesn't matter because he's there — he's right fucking there, right at the spot where you need him the most.

Your mouth creates a combination of noises and melted words. There's no sense to be made when he's fucking you like this. You push back, deepening the angle. You both moan so loudly, it echos, but you barely register it.

His fingers fall to your clit and he starts to swirl messy circles over the throbbing bud. Three, maybe four passes. That's all it takes.

You throw your head back violently, his name ripping from your throat as you cunt clenches around him, pulsing and squeezing. Your stomach flutters, the released tension rippling across your muscles.

He doesn't stop. His fingers move frantically and he fucks you through it until your body sags and you whimper when swatting weakly at his hand.

"That's it, that's my g-girl," he groans, abandoning your clit. He wraps his arm around you instead, keeping you upright so he can thrust into you as hard as he can. You moan and bite at his neck, his ear, his cheek... any part of him that's normally hidden by his helmet. You feel the stubble under your lips and you lick his skin, reveling in the sharp prickle across your tongue.

"Come inside me," you whisper. He makes a choked sound and shakes his head.

"Can't."

"Please?"

His movements grow erratic. He's losing rhythm.

"No, it's — too risky."

"Would that be so bad? Don't y— don't you wonder what it would — be like?"

You're babbling. You sound insane. You don't care.

"Please stop," he begs, then his teeth sink into your shoulder and he pulls out of you roughly, just in time to shoot hot cum all over your inner thighs. He's groaning your name into your skin and he's panting so heavily, you fear he may pass out.

"I'm not —"

Din swallows and then he drags in a deep breath. With your eyes still closed, you start blindly peppering kisses across his cheek.

"I know," you mumble, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, his fingers pinch your chin and he tilts your head so his lips press firmly against your own. Your heart stops when you first feel what it's like to kiss him — never in your wildest fantasies did you think you would know what his lips felt like. The trust he must have for you makes you weak and you melt, getting lost in the taste of him when his tongue slides into your mouth.

"I wasn't going to give you my child without kissing you first," he murmurs when he pulls back, but he doesn't go far. His forehead rests against yours and he sighs when your hand lifts to get lost in his messy hair.

"Really?" you whisper in disbelief, but you're smiling like a fool.

"Is that something you really want? With me?" he asks. You don't need to see his face, you can hear the doubt — the shock — that you would pick him out of anyone in the galaxy.

You nod and peck a kiss to his lips. "I'm tired of waiting," you tell him. "We almost lost our chance... I don't want to waste another second with you."

He laughs and you grin when his soft exhale fans across your face.

"I will gladly devote my life to you, if you'll have me," he says.

And yes, it feels fast. But what's the point in waiting when everything you want is right in front of you? You very easily could have died, but you were given a second chance.

At Night

It happens every week at the same time. 

Din is always laying in his bed, his helmet off and one arm behind his head. His armor always rests on the end of the bed in an organized pile.  

And then there you are, whimpering directly on the other side of the metal wall. 

"Please," you coo, breathy morphing into a shuddered moan. "Please let me touch you." 

You're alone in there, your own bedroom next to his on the ship. Both are modest, and on across the other side in his small cubby is the kid, likely snoring away. 

If Din concentrates he can hear the wet noise of your fingers in your cunt. He can imagine it too, the way your fingers would look splayed around your clit, the way they'd tease your nipples. 

But he can't do that. He forces his mind to turn to work. Of the upcoming bounty he's been hired to collect. 

You're his employee, experienced with ship mechanics and desperate to travel around the galaxy. Suggested to Din by Karga during a routine visit. 

"Let her work on it this week," Karga had insisted with a clap to Mando's back. "If you're not happy with her work, you don't have to pay her." 

Grogu was besotted with you from day one, watching you with the wires most days, tilting his head and cooing. And you never lost your temper, even when he tried to help with the wires and ended up knocking out the navigation for half a leg. You just laughed, patted his head and told him to go "see your Daddy." 

And at the end of the week you came to him, wiping your hands on a towel and giving him a proud smile.

"She's a beautiful pre-empire ship and now she'll travel to the Outer Rim smooth as lightning.” 

Din had been impressed, taking his time surveying your work, walking around the ship. There were other things that needed to be repaired, things that would take months.  

"I see there's quite a bit more work to be done," you'd observed as if reading his mind. "I don't know how you feel about this, but I've never really traveled off Nevarro. I'd love the chance to travel a bit of the galaxy."

Din just stood there, peering out at you from his helmet. He couldn't understand what you were driving at. 

"Sooooo, I was thinking maybe I could tag along with you for a bit? You wouldn't have to pay me, I have credits saved. Just lodging and food is needed and then," at this point you sighed dreamily, "I'll get a chance to see some of the galaxy." 

It was too much like charity for Din and he was about to tell you so when a sleepy Grogu woke in the crook of his arm and reached for you. You jumped at the opportunity, shooting a charming smile Din"s way. 

"Plus I'll help take care of your kid." 

///

Of course he'd agreed to this, passively amused at how easily you slid into this life with them and now it's been three months of travel, bounties and brief conversation. And it's been two months of this twice-a-week routine you've set for yourself. 

"Just this time," you pant, the bed creaking as you touch yourself. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise." 

Din feels his cock twitching and he frowns. You're not always this vocal, usually just muffled groans and creaking metal. The first time he heard it he assumed you were having a nightmare. He heard the groans and movement and he assumed that you were half asleep. He was nearly out of his own bed to check when he heard the whimper, a sound that crawled down his spine and immediately had him hard. 

It was then that he realized what you were doing. And even though he knew it was wrong he continued to listen night after night. He never touches himself when he hears you, thinking that would be a true overstep. You didn't know he was listening and he was too embarrassed to bring it up.

It makes him short with you, snapping at you or just ignoring you in favor of focusing on other things. If he looks at you too long he can hear memories of your whimpers and moans. The ones that remind him that you’re not just a talented mechanic, you’re an incredibly desirable woman.

You're getting close, you’re panting quicker, the wet sounds increasing. He starts when your hand must slap against the wall of your bedroom for stability and it echoes into his room. You’re so close he’s sure he could touch that wall and feel the heat from your palm.

"Yes! Fuck just like that! Please come inside me!"  

Din bites the inside of his cheek and prays for morning. 

///

You collapse back onto your pillow, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to your temples. You can’t believe how hard you came just now, your hand sliding down from the metal ship wall. You’re panting, your cunt fluttering at the memory.

Din.

It’s always Din in your mind. Din fucking into you, Din whispering filthy things in your ears, Din commanding you come for him.

But it wasn’t always like this. 

When you first started the two of you were cordial. You worked hard, were kind to the kid and didn’t bother Din much. As the time went on things seemed to twist and the normally quiet Mandalorian was suddenly withdrawn and snappish. You couldn’t understand it, but it didn’t bother you much. You'd faced worse verbal onslaughts.

And it would have continued on in this tense partnership if only you hadn’t seen him bring in a live bounty for the first time about two months ago. Normally they're dead or unconscious, but this humanoid was very awake and very angry being dragged in by the muscular Mandalorian. 

"What are you looking at?" The Anzat hissed at you, his nostrils flared as they passed by to the carbonite chamber. “Filthy kronging scum.”

Neither of you had been expecting Din to slam the man into the nearby wall. The sound echoed into the hull of the ship. You heard the crunch of bone and the sharp hiss from the man. You were thankful Grogu was in the cockpit, away from the brutal scene.

"Talk to her again and I'll make sure you don't take another breath."

His sinister sotto voce rasp through the modulator made your blood pump and that evening you brought yourself off twice in quick succession, whimpering in your bed at the memory. Din’s arms, Din’s voice, the commanding way he moved, the scissoring of his long legs as he walked. Din Din Din.

You were paranoid that maybe the Mandalorian heard you that evening but he acted no differently the next morning and it had thrilled you to have this sexy little secret to yourself about a man so formidable.

So why not continue? What started as a sporadic way to blow off energy was now something you looked forward to. You limited yourself to twice a week though. Just to keep yourself sharp. You spent your free time wondering what he looked like under the armor. You saw a flash of wrist once, the color of deep sand and it thrilled you. Is he all gold under there? Is his mouth plush? His eyes sharp?

Tonight however it was too much to hold back. Seeing Din with his blaster raised as he threatened a man who attempted to steal from a poor woman at the market was too sexy for you to ignore. 

Your fingers were in your pants in a hurry that evening, you body arching off the bed in desperation within seconds, desperate to chase the sensation of Din’s phantom fingers and his deep voice.

You think about bringing yourself off again, but fatigue slowly sets in and you fall asleep with a smile on your face, hoping that morning approaches slowly.  

///

The next morning you wake up and shower ready to face the day. You’re landed in a lush and upscale planet with large buildings and rich looking humanoids. You spend your morning and early afternoon doing a check of materials and ship scans, frustrated to note that the antenna on the hanger is loose. Upon closer inspection to the anterior you can also see some of the scanners are cracked.

It must be from yesterday’s flight. Space debris must have chipped away at the patch job Mando insisted on. You sigh and travel into town with the credits Din saves for such expenses. You return empty-handed several hours later. You travel to the cockpit and smile at the sight of Grogu seated on Mando's knee babbling before frowning.  

"The long wave antenna is loose," you inform his back. "Plus the exterior sensors at the back. We shouldn’t have rushed the job.”

Din is turned from you, not willing to make a turn of his head. If he does he’s going to see you in that tight mechanics outfit where you’re not trying to look sexy, but you do when you’re all sweaty. He places Grogu on the jump seat next to him.

“So go into town and get the supplies. Last time I checked that was your job.”

“For your information, I already did,” you snap. “The antenna was in but it was the wrong size. The sensors will take a day to arrive and so will a new antenna.”

You’re coming closer to him, the sound of your boots scraping the metal floor. Din feels his stomach tighten and he wills you to go away. He busies himself with the buttons on the panel, silently praying you’ll stop coming closer.

“So we’ll travel without them.”

“Are you insane?” you’re irritated that he doesn’t even have the decency to turn around and face you. “We’ll be in a freefall within seconds. You’re a good pilot, Mando, but last time I checked you weren’t force-powerful enough to glide through the air without a working nav transmitter.”

“Fine,” Din sighs. “We’ll stay on the ship overnight-“

“The guy at the shop says ship stays are illegal here because of criminal activity,” you cut him off.

"What do you suggest?" Din offers dryly. 

"I think we should get a place in town for the night." 

Din swears under his breath and soon the three of you are in the foyer of a nearby hotel with Din handing over credits for two adjoining rooms.  Grogu babbles in the satchel at his hip, gazing around with large black eyes, fascinated by the upscale patrons who wrinkle their nose at the three of you.

You don’t care, you’re excited by the luxury of this small diversion. The fresher onboard the ship is usually lukewarm at best with soap that smells like bleach. The blankets are scratchy and the bedding uncomfortable. You think about stealing the pillow from the hotel room once you arrive. 

Once inside your separate bedroom you lower your bag to the floor. You can't believe how beautiful and clean and bright everything is. You nearly skip into the tub, reveling in the warm water and sweet smelling soaps and hair cleansers. You change into fresh clothes and give the closed door between you a light tap. 

"Come in."

You walk into the adjoining room to see Grogu playing with his silver ball on the large bed. Din is setting up a small nest of blankets and pillows on the table across the room and you realize it's for the baby. 

"I'm going to grab something to eat at the bar downstairs," you tell him. "I saw it when we came in. Do you want me to bring you anything back?"

Din doesn't answer you at first. He fiddles with something in his pocket before crossing the room and shoving credits into your hand. 

"Just something for the kid." 

"I'm happy to pay."

Din says nothing, just stares at you through his visor. At least you assume he does. You'll never see his eyes so he could be closing them for all you know. You also know that the conversation is closed. 

"I'll get him something good."

Din makes a grunt of acknowledgement and then he's gone back to setting up a small bed for his son. You watch his broad back before moving out the door and down to the bar. 

The place is quiet, populated with a few tired travelers who, like you, need something to eat. You order a curried nuna roll and spotchka. You eat and drink slowly, looking out the window to the bright city. You wonder if you have enough energy to do explore tonight. 

"Hello beautiful." 

A deep voice sounds at your left and you see a handsome man dressed to the nines in expensive looking garb. He wears many elaborate looking braids in his long purple hair. He stands next to your table. 

"Seems we're both eating alone. You mind if I join you? I hate eating by myself." 

You nod shyly. You don't often get to socially interact with others on the job. You're usually blasting from one planet to the next. 

For the next little bit you and the handsome man chat back and forth. He's here for business and he asks you lots of questions about yourself. Its nice to have company, especially one this attractive and attentive.

"All this chatting has me parched," the man eventually says, sweeping a look over you appreciatively. "Can I buy you another spotchka?"

You look at your drained glass and nod. "Yes, thank you."

" I'll be right back, beautiful one."

You blush at the compliment and watch the handsome man walk off, weaving through the tables. You glance back out the window, feeling your heart trip inside your ribcage. It's been a long while since you had sex and this man seems to be putting out all the signals. 

Plus the one man you desperately want to sleep with can barely stand you. But that doesn't stop you from fantasizing about what it would be like to have a man like Din Djarin fuck you. Would he be gentle? Rough? 

Your still internally debating this when the man arrives back with your drink and slides it across the table to you. You realize only now that he's been asking so much about you that you don't even know his first name. 

You're about to ask him just that when you feel a looming presence at our back.

"It's time to go."

You glance over, surprised to the Mandalorian standing behind you. His hands are tight curls at his side. He seems furious.

"What? Why?" You scrunch your nose in confusion. "I'm just having a drink with a new friend." 

"Well your friend dropped something in your spotchka at the bar."

You whip your head back to face the man who looks at Din darkly. He tilts back in his seat, sucking at his teeth as he scans the imposing figure behind you as if he isn’t terrified. 

"And who are you?" 

"A friend."

Mando has never referred to himself as such and a distant part of you is touched by the remark. You kind of assumed he hated you.

"Well friend, I never did anything to this," he insists before tapping the side of your glass. "So you can just keep on walking."

Din sighs through the modulator, obviously tired from the day and the interaction. You wonder if he's going to leave you to get back to your semi-date. He surprises you by leaning forward, his chest plate nearly touching the top of your head.   

"Drink it then."

The man goes from agitated to suspiciously quiet at Dins request. No, not request, his order. The man's light eyes move from Din to you before he sneers.  

"Your father tag along with you on all your dates?"

You're about to reply when Din slowly tilts forward and his voice drops another register.

"Drink. It."

"I'm not-"

Din's blaster is at the man's temple immediately buzzing. He leans over you to do it, the beskar cold on your back. 

"If there's nothing wrong with it then you don't mind drinking it."

The man looks wildly around but Dins broad frame blocks you all from view of the other patrons. Finally his furious gaze lands back on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

"And if I don't?"

"Who said I was giving you a choice?" Din taps the barrel against the man's cheek. "Drink up."

There's something about the dark tease from Din that has a heartbeat between your legs. The man sighs heavily before looking at the untouched drink in front of you. He grits his teeth before sneering at you. 

"This was such-"

"I didn't say you could talk." 

Fuck, why are you so turned on by the sharp way Din commands this interaction? He holsters his weapon for the time being. 

You squirm in your chair slightly as you watch the man raise the glass to his mouth and throw the drink back. He lowers the glass back down onto the table, glaring at Din over your shoulder. 

"Satisfied?" He shakes his head and prepares to stand. "I'm outta here."

He goes to slide out of his chair but Din just speaks in that rasp of his, low and sultry. 

"You'll sit there until I say you can go."

There it is, that thrumming between your legs growing stronger. The three of you sit in silence, the man blinking at the two of you and frowning. You're confused at what Din is getting at when the man suddenly relaxes, slumping slightly in his chair and laughing quietly to himself. 

What the fuck?

You can still feel Din pressed up against you from behind. You even feel the vibration of his speaking through his beskar.  

"Pick up the glass."

The man stares up at Din with a crooked smile and drowsy hooded eyes. "S’empty." 

Din is silent in reply and the man exhales, knowing what will come next if he disobeys. You watch as the handsome man reaches forward and shakily raises the glass, but you note that his movements are uncoordinated. 

The glass clunks onto the tabletop when his fingers can no longer grip it properly. The man looks like he wants to say something ugly but thinks better of it. He tries again to grip it, but he’s weaker than a baby tooka.

"Don't fight it," Din tells the man. "It's inevitable." 

The man goes to reply but you can see the way his lids begin to lower and he starts to tilt forward.  You continue watching the man continue to slump over the table until his forehead connects with it. 

"And now we're going," Din says with a light tap to your shoulder. 

You respond immediately, standing and then Din's got his large hand at the small of your back and is guiding you through the bar to the elevators in the lobby. You shoot him a concerned look. 

"I never got the kid anything to eat."

"He was exhausted and passed out. I'll get him a big breakfast tomorrow." 

He punches the number for your floor and the two of you ride up in silence before you glance over at him. He's such an imposing figure to many in his armor and helmet, but you find him strangely reassuring. 

"How did you know?"

"I know his type and I've seen it before. Drugged you would have felt relaxed and even giddy. He would have suggested you go back to his room and under the influence you would have agreed. They're he would have taken all your credits and if he was feeling particularly bold he'd have some fun with your unconscious body as well." 

You shudder at the realization you were so close to having something happen to you. Thank the Maker Din happened to be in the bar and notice just then. What if he’d arrived later?

"Thank you," you tell him earnestly placing a hand over his vambrace. "I'm so glad you were there." 

Din's helmet tips down to see your hand on his body and you snatch it back, embarrassed. You've never touched each other before. 

The elevator stops and the two of you exit quickly. You head into the room and part from him immediately going into your room. You're so embarrassed at your emotional response you don't even wish the sleeping kid a goodnight. 

///

It's dark and the kid is snoring across the room. Din wears only his pants in the bed. His chest is bare and warm to the touch. And his helmet rests next to him on the bed, prepared to throw it on when necessary. 

He's just drifting off when he hears the soft sound of your whimper through the door. 

"Drink it," you murmur, breath catching in your throat. "Fucking do it." 

Wait, are you getting off to the memory of that asshole from earlier? Just because he was handsome? The thought makes him clench his teeth furiously. Here he is mooning over you and your pleasuring yourself to thoughts of another man. 

"He told you to do it," you groan, "so do it."

Din hears your shudder so much clearer now that only a door separates you

"Fuck, Din-"

Din freezes in his bed, his eyes blown wide. Did you just-?

"Just once," you pant in your room, voice trembling with desire. "Just fuck me once. I'll make you feel so good." 

Din's cock is immediately hard. You're thinking about him in bed right now? The thought makes him feel heady. 

"Right there," you moan, voice growing louder. 

You don't realize how the sound is traveling. He's worried you're going to wake the kid. That's what he tells himself as he pulls on his helmet and shuffles to your door. He could knock and tell you to quiet down. He could snap that you're making too much noise in your sleep and save you both the embarrassment. 

But instead he pushes into your room and snaps the door closed behind him. 

///

You hear the sound of your door opening and closing and you immediately go silent, your fingers trapped between your thighs. Then there is silence. You wonder if you imagined it but there feels like a presence is in the room with you. 

Your face is warm and cunt soaked from your fantasizing. You're irritated that your orgasm is suddenly draining from your body. Still you remain stoic, frightened that perhaps the man from downstairs found you.

"Keep going." 

Din’s husky voice is unmistakable in the darkness. You lay in bed frozen, unsure of what you do or say at this point. He's your boss. You’re sure that you heard him wrong; this is just your fantasy bleeding over into real life.

You hear a creak and then feel the bed dip as he lowers himself next to you. His body is warm and you think he may be shirtless. The thought makes you shiver. 

His wide palm slides down your forearm, trailing down to confirm his suspicions; your fingers are crooked over your clit and your pussy is wrecked. Din's brings his hand to lightly rest over yours, waiting to feel how you touch yourself. 

"I said keep going."

You choke on your reply, exhilarated and terrified. Din has never made overtures towards you and yet here he is wearing his helmet and not much else. You can feel the heat from his skin and a part of you is desperate to lick it.

After a second of hesitation you begin to circle your clit, embarrassed at the wet sounds that occur. You're so fucking turned on right now you're dripping and Din’s hand is heavy over yours. 

Din feels his heartbeat everywhere, his cock, his chest, his ears. He can't believe he's doing this and he can't believe you're letting him. But you're so wet and he's so hard that he feels emboldened.  

"What were you thinking about just now?" 

You want to be humiliated but you're too turned on to deny him. And let's be honest, he's here with you in bed so obviously he's not offended. Even if its just for one night you want the fantasy to be real.

"You. I was thinking about you."

Din feels his breath catch. Obviously he suspected it, but hearing it out loud is something else.

"You think about me a lot?"

"Every time I touch myself." 

Din bites down on his lower lip, wishing so strongly that his helmet could come off in your presence. He wants to kiss you right now, to suck your tongue into his mouth. 

"I think about sucking your cock," you continue to confess as your fingers work faster over your clit. "About how you'd sound if I licked you so softly over and over."

His fingertips feel as your fingers begin to rub quicker against your clit. He swallows a groan, shifting closer to you.  

"What else?"

You don't miss how his voice sounds a little breathless. For some reason that causes fresh arousal to coat your fingers.

"I think about how I want to keep your cock warm while you drive the ship. Just sitting there for hours while you guide us through the galaxy. Not moving until you tell me I can." 

Din groans and you lose your train of thought as he gently urges your fingers from between your legs only to replace them with his own. Now it’s him pressing against your clit, him pinching lightly before rolling the slippery flesh between the pads of his fingers. Your head falls back on the pillow; hips rolling as Din finally touches you where you've always dreamt of. 

"I think.... I think about you fucking me on the floor like an animal," you confess in a hush. You have many times; thoughts of Din unrestrained have you arching into your hand most nights. You feel as Din shifts, elastic snapping and the dry sound of skin along skin.  

"More." 

It takes you a moment to realize that he's brought his cock out of his pants and is stroking himself as he teases you with his fingers.

"I fantasize that behind your helmet you’re watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

This confession has you feeling electric. His thick fingers are slipping inside you, coating themselves in your arousal. For a moment you just let yourself give into the sensation, thighs spread and hands clutching the bed for purchase. 

"Din."

He breathes slowly beside you and you attempt to touch his bare skin but he pulls back. The meaning is clear: he'll touch you, but you don't get to touch him. 

"I watch you when you work and you don't notice me," he continues as his fingers begin to slide in and out of your soaked cunt, the drag and pump making you keen. "I watched you tonight at the bar."

"Why?"

"At first because you were taking so long. And then because I was jealous seeing you with that useless piece of shit."

His fingers are sliding in and out of you quickly. He's fucking your pussy with just his digits and you're seeing stars, he grunts when your body trembles under his touch. 

"Jealous at the thought that he was going to get to fuck you instead of me." 

He didn't realize until tonight that perhaps you wanted him just as badly. He strokes his cock more furiously, the pre-cum drooling over his knuckles, making each tug slick and delicious. Your hips are jumping and he swallows a moan when he feels you start to flutter around his knuckles. 

"Din-"

"Don't talk," he orders in a husky murmur. "Just come for me." 

And you do. You come so loudly that his hand comes off his cock to cover your mouth to keep from waking the kid next door. You taste the salty pre-come from his palm, eyes rolling back as you catch your breath. Din sounds equally spent, despite the sound of his hand furiously stroking his cock. 

"Please," you beg in a cracked voice as you slide down the bed, your fingers lightly tugging his hand from his stiff and pulsing cock. 

 Din feels your mouth circle the tip of him, tongue swirling around the mushroom head. You smile around his cock, taking it deeply and groaning when you hear his unrestrained hiss of pleasure. 

"I think about you," he suddenly tells you in a rumble. 

He feels you pull off of him, tongue darting out to lick a stripe from base to tip. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, a smile blooming in the pitch black that he cannot see. You’re delighted to hear this, relieved that this lust hasn’t been one sided.

"What do you think about?"

"About this right here. Your mouth on my cock." Din swallows as your hand begins to stroke him. "Only wish I could see it."

He feels your hand falter slightly around the base of him.

"Turn on the light." 

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches up to flick the light on before staring down his body to see you there between his legs. Your hair is mussed and falling into in your flushed face, your luscious tits spilling out of your nightdress. You raise a brow in silent question as you begin to suckle lightly.

Well?

Din wasn't expecting it to go this far. He told himself he was just going to talk about the noise carrying over into his room but now you're between his legs with your hot mouth stuffed full of him. 

"Better than I ever imagined."

You keep your eyes trained on him as you take him deeper, relishing the groan that sounds out from behind his helmet. You look up his golden body and hold in a sigh. He's beautiful. 

"Faster," he all but begs, legs shaking when he watches your head bob up and down for him.

Your mouth is stretched so wide, full of him. You're so wet you can't stand it. Despite coming moments earlier you throb everywhere. Your fingers snake between your thighs, pausing as you look up at him with an imploring gaze.

“Go ahead,” he nods.

You begin to rub furiously as he bucks his hips and his cock up into your mouth. He fits there so perfectly, so delicious and thick. Its seconds before he watches the hand beneath your nightdress still and he feels your mouth quiver before you shiver and continue. 

Your soaked fingers come to stroke the base at the same time as you hollow your cheeks and Din feels like he's in another galaxy. He can't help but let his head drop back when you take him to the hilt and you don't gag, you just keep going, eyes closed

He spreads his legs wide, spearing up into your mouth as he looks back down at you. You don't falter, you take every thrust and you want more. It's not long before Din feels his stomach tightening and spine tingling. 

"You want it down your throat?"

You nod, eyes opening to shoot him a cock drunk smile, saliva at the corners. 

"Mhm."

You look so peaceful as you hum in delight around him. That sweet desire is what sends him over the edge into pleasure. He spills himself down your throat, body jerking and strangled noises escaping through the modulator. 

You suck and swallow, not wanting to waste any part of him. When he's finally spent and his legs twitch you crawl back up the length of his body and collapse next to him. He curls around you, arm falling over your middle. He speaks to you in a rough whisper as you fall asleep. 

“You’re tiresome.  Did you know that?”  His voice is pure vitriol, you’ve never seen him so angry.  “I don’t care if I get killed but you can’t be bringing the kid out for a dessert run.” 

“It was his idea!”  Deep down you know he’s right, but being cooped up in the crest for weeks has made you all antsy, and the kid was very persuasive.  “We didn’t just get cookies.” You try and keep your tone even, emotions mounting in your throat.  “I got some bacta, and a new compressor for the carbonite chamber.” His posture is iron, shoulders, and head still as a rock and you trail off.   

“You could’ve told me to get those things.”  He turns away from you and pulls you back towards the ship.  There are several coos and cries from the pouch now snug to dins hip and covered by his skewed cape.  “You can’t let the baby tell you what to do.” 

He’s been nothing but kind to you, and although you hate him confronting you he would’ve gotten anything you asked for, he always has.  “You’re right, I’m sorry, but you don’t need to scold me like a child.”  

His hand loosens slightly as if he is becoming conscious of hurting you, as he practically shoves you forward with his body while you instinctually resist. “This isn’t the first time you haven’t listened to me.”  

You set your jaw, swallowing more bitter words, and scan the crowd with him, slightly turning your head every few steps to get a glimpse of people behind you, just like he taught you.  Miraculously, you make it to the hangar without another bitter word.  

Even as he pays the balance of the ship repairs his hand doesn’t leave its place on your arm, the man glancing between the two of you suspiciously.  Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, and you begin to feel like a scruffed loth cat.  “Do you have to drag me by my bones?!”  You twist your arm in an attempt to escape, but all it does is shoot lightning through your arm down to your wrist.  

He remains silent until he practically throws you onto the ramp of the ship.  To further your shame, you trip and fall to your knees scraping them both on the rough texture of the ramp.  With a huff and barely-kept tears, you storm up the ramp and drop the sack of supplies on a crate, heading straight to the fresher for a rinse in the shower, in a desperate effort to collect yourself. 

The ship takes off in no time with a lurch and the immediate hum of hyperspace envelops the crest.  Only then, do you feel safe enough to let out a choked frustrated sob.  The cry is relatively quick, and the water does wonders for the tight knot of the new bruise on your arm, but not quite the cleansing of your heart you were praying for. 

You rinse the soap from your hair rigorously and not kindly, in an attempt to shake the need for these bruises to linger until they faded without the use of bacta.  He would think you were being ridiculous, he might even taunt you about being young and dumb if he found out how you felt about him.  You’d be lying if these weren’t tears of heartbreak, he embarrassed and chastised you in front of crowds of people and practically dragged you halfway across town.

Yet, you found yourself wanting to seek him for comfort.  Longing for the long nights of telling him about your childhood on bespin, and the comfort of his laugh as he gave you a simple story about the fighting corps that had your eyes full of admiration and bewilderment.  He had been kind and soft and protective.  Today was the first time you remember him being so assertive with you, with enemies and bounties yes, but never to you.  

Maybe it was time for you to take off.  The thought felt like a slap on the cheek, and you bite your lips as you swipe across the ripped flesh of your knee.  It is not a terrible scrape, but the skin is tender and bruised around the minor cuts.  You wanted him to apologize, and you wanted him to see you bleed, you knew he’d feel terrible, he stepped on your foot last week and apologized three times.

Stepping out of the shower you realize that in your rush to the refresher, you didn’t grab a pair of clothes.  Swearing to yourself, you take a look at your dirty clothes from earlier.  They're caked in sand, and rather than put them on you’ll wrap yourself in -shit- his towel.  Sending a prayer to the maker, whoever she may be, you open the doors and set your gaze on the floor towards your bunk and set course confidently.  Unaware he is watching intently from the container you left your sack on until his boots are in your vision.  

He hears the squeak die in your throat and watches your heart race as he scans your near-naked frame with his visor.  His breath catches in his throat at the sight, his hand still radiating warmth from holding your skin even with his gloved hand.  He wanted you, and his body responded to the small friction of your body against his front like he was a teenager.  Then he starts picking up on the scrape on your knees, and the swell of a bruise on your left arm.  As your heart leaps into your throat, he drops to the floor on his knees, he hurt you.  In his scared frustration, he scolded and towed you around like a misbehaving massiff.  

This is where his career failed him, he could de-escalate a bar fight, but he had heard apologizing to a woman was not easy, especially when he so desperately needed you to forgive him.  Not to mention the beautiful distraction of his cock twitching in his pants as he settles on your face, trying not to think about your skin smelling like him.  “Focus.”  Fuck. Did he just say that out loud? 

“What did you just say?”  You take a larger step forward, your leg peaks out of the wrap of the towel, wrath keeping you from caring.  “I always admired your bravery, and now I’m wondering where all the audacity came from.”

He stammers, modulator picking up his sharp confused gasp, “No. I mean-”.

You don’t give him the chance to finish.  “I want to go home.”  The words dry your tongue to ash.  But his posture goes rigid again, and for the first time since you met, you’re afraid of him.  

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” As a wave crashes over him, he resets.  His shoulders slumped over, and the helmet hanging as if he is adverting his eyes.  You watch with bated breath as he reaches up in a familiar movement, flicking through types of vision processors in his helmet, and your blood turns cold.  

With a fluid movement, he guides your hand to his shoulder with his free hand and reaches for your calf with the other, pulling your leg free to examine the scuff on your knee.  

You misread him and in your panic pull away, falling over your own feet his grip catches you as your towel parts to reveal almost your entire body to him.  He’s standing slightly, having to abandon his seat in his efforts to catch you.  The helmet snaps to your eyes, and then to the wall beside you as he stands you up.  

You take a step back while adjusting your towel and holding it closer to you.  “I’m mad that you treated me like a child.” He keeps his eyes trained on the wall, “I shouldn’t-” 

“I panicked, I was worried.”  He is defensively talking over you, but also afraid to tell you of his feelings for you so his voice is low. 

“Be carted through the city on a leash like some misbehaving whore.”  The words are pouring out of you as if coating your tongue with honey as they crack across his bleeding heart, far too much happening too fast as he scrambles to catch up.  

“I want to go home.”  You say it again, but this time it's less convincing as he comes to rest on his knees in front of you.  

“I’m sorry.”  He creeps pathetically closer to you, resting back onto his feet and leaning the forehead of his helm against your stomach seeking comfort that's more intimate than you’ve ever offered.  “I’m not good at these things.”  He shifts again, this time looking toward your face until just the chin of the visor is digging into the skin of your abdomen, “I’ve never had the chance to look after something I’ve cared about so much.”  His voice although clear is quiet, shy even, “I was so scared I didn’t even think until I saw you set the bacta on the crate.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your face wordless as you watch him grovel, you must be dreaming. 

“Ni ceta.”  His heart aches in time with the throbbing pain of his knees on the floor, and for the first time since pridefully placing his helm on his head, he wishes he could abandon it at your feet.

Everything he does is intense, he is fiercely protective, he is lethal, and you might even describe him as passionate when it comes to his creed.  The child, who you assume is somewhere sleeping, was possibly the most fiercely protected baby in the galaxy.  Having come to know him over the last few months, you wondered how he ever survived on his own, he cherished the companionship the two of you have brought and he always seems to welcome your antics, often at his expense.  Like a light in a dim alley, the conclusion flickers in your brain, it's the only thing that makes sense. 

“I’m sorry I brought him into danger.”  You clear your throat, unable to look away from the dim reflection of yourself in his visor.  “I’m just feeling a little like a prisoner.” 

He says that unfamiliar phrase again, “Ni ceta, mesh’la.” [I kneel, gorgeous] In what you assume is Mando’a, “I will do better.” Your hands twitch at your side, as you fight the urge to caress his head. 

“Okay.”  You give a reserved nod, the ice in your heart melted and you feel as vulnerable as ever.  “Is the kid asleep?”

 Mando gives a soft hum, “He ate a few cookies and then promptly collapsed in his pram in the cockpit.”  You realize his voice is hoarse but he clears it, “Can I give you some bacta, and make you some caf? I know you won't forgive me right away.” He trails off, as the glint of his helm holds your stare. 

“I’m not upset with you anymore, you don’t need to get anything for me, I can still walk just fine.”  A small giggle erupts from your chest, surprising the two of you.  There he is. 

He stands but doesn’t do anything but lean back slightly, “I want to.  I feel terrible.”  You take a step back as he stands, he speaks in a hushed tone, “I’d carry you around if that’s what you’d wanted.” 

There’s a glitch in your brain he doesn’t miss, and it's hard to ignore the small sound that you make, suddenly he’s thankful for the privacy of the helmet and the loose-fitting fabric of his flight suit.  “Is it what you want?” This is an interaction he is slightly more comfortable with, albeit a little rusty.

You clear your throat and shake your head as if the intrusive thoughts will fade with the harsh movement.  “Yes and no.”  You settle on a bit of honesty while also playing coy.  “Who doesn’t want to be carried around by a big strong mysterious man?  It’s every girl's dream.” 

“Maybe I should add that to the list of services I provide.”  He is leaning up against the walls of your bunk, subconsciously blocking you from abandoning the conversation and seeking the warmth and privacy in your bunk.

“We probably would make a killing.  But I wouldn’t want you to…” You trail off, not initially liking what the taunting was morphing into, but what the hell? “To carry anyone but me if I am honest.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to?”  He’s tasting the sweetness of your confession on his tongue, processing it while trying to keep the tone light.  

“I want you to want to do those things outside of guilt.” The conversation is far past smooth, nothing like the holodramas you’ve imagined the two of you a part of.  “I want you to like spending time with me.”

“I do feel guilty, but I would do these things for you regardless, and I do like spending time with you.  We both do, or I wouldn’t fight so hard to keep you here.”   There’s an air of caution in his statement, he’s scared of rushing headfirst into his adoration of you and scaring you, even if his face is protected in his bashful admission. 

“You do?”  You squint an eye at him as if scanning him through your own tech-clad helmet.  “Are we on the same page?” You chew on your lip, analyzing his cool, relaxed posture before settling on his pitch-black visor again, in the flicker of your heart you know he’s meeting your stare.  “I like you.”

His chest rises sharply with an inhale as if he’s been injured and you quickly try and find a way to backpedal out of this conversation.  “Well, maybe we aren’t. I was going to say I’m in love with you.”  

If you didn’t know the child was asleep, you would’ve thought he was pushing you toward his dad.  There was a tug at your heart and you rush to embrace him, met with the cool metal against your bare skin.  Your instinct calls for you to kiss him, and you want to terribly, but you’re unsure of what his customs allow.

You let your hands search for the gaps in his armor, looking for warmth and settling right below the gusset of armor on his back and squeeze him so impossibly tight he groans contently.  “This feels so weird, I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.”  Your cheeks heat, and he chuckles.

“What are you trying to do?” He finally seems to have settled into the space in front of you, a pliant but also stiff bundle of warmth juxtaposed by the cool faces of his beskar plates. “I can take the armor off if you’re trying to get comfortable.” 

“I know how to do it, I just don’t know if I’m allowed to.  I want to kiss you Mando…”  The bashfulness in the way you bury your face into the crook of his arm, makes his heart skip to an unfamiliar beat in his chest.  

“I can take everything but the helmet off, I would eventually.  I’m not ready for that.”  Now he’s the insecure one, how could you want to be with him without seeing him? “I know it’s not ideal, I’m sorry.”

You sense the insecurity right away, and rather than letting it fester in his always-thinking brain, you do your best to soothe his worries with a caress and a change of subject.  “Everything else you say?” Lifting your brow, you hook the rim of his chest plate with your fingernail, separating it slightly from its place. “I can wait for the helmet,” you look up through your eyelashes,  “ I want to feel you.”

Lacing your fingers through his, you stroke the palm of his hand silently asking for permission to remove them.  He nods slowly, and you slide beneath the fabric slowly revealing the tanned, callused skin.  Human skin.

You remove the other glove, letting your fingers soak in his radiating warmth.  Drawing long slow circles on his palms, you search for his approval but his head is fixed on your hands in his.  He is rigid and his posture is stiff, as if afraid if he moves you’ll stop.  

Every nerve in his body is alight, he’s practically vibrating as you run your fingers along his skin, your hands are cold and feel wonderfully soft.  It takes everything not to whine when you go to take his vambraces off and the comfort of your touch is ripped away from him.  

“I don’t know how to do this.”  You admit, well aware of the whistling birds that are more than dangerous and you're afraid to set them off.  He laughs nervously, and you’re leaning so close to his face that you can almost hear the air without the modulator. 

“It’s safe.”  He reaches over and shows you how to remove the armor.  As you lift it away you motion for him to remove the other one while you get to work on his chest plate.  The heavy metal plate joins the rest of it in a compartment to his left, and you lay your hands flat on the broad plain of his chest.

He moves, remembering his strength, and tilts your elbow until your hand is resting on the zipper hidden beneath the collar of his cape.  Working in tandem, he removes his cuirass as you unzip his flight suit.  

Your vision rakes over the ripple of his muscles, a few bruises and scars mark his skin, and you without thinking lean in and leave an open-mouthed kiss over a yellow bruise on his left peck.  This time you are close enough to hear the whine that escapes from beneath the helmet in time with his posture going slack with a flood of goosebumps on his skin. 

The noises go straight to your core, the idea of this hard exterior broken by a hint of your mouth on his chest is enough of an invite to step closer.  Slotting between his feet, you press your mouth to the center of his sternum, chasing it as he flinches away from your cold hands brushing against his lower stomach before curling into the fabric to pull him tight against you.  

He steps back, maneuvering around the crate and leaning against the wall behind it so he can slot his thigh between your legs gently inviting you to grind against the cool metal plate, only separated by an ever-falling towel his brain scrambles, only thinking about how your mouth feels hot against his skin and wondering what you taste like.  

You lean harder into him, feeling the weight of his cock dig into your stomach and trying to focus on nibbling on the tight muscle of his shoulder as the fabric of his flight suit falls off his shoulders.  You hear a loud clang as he throws his head back, likely breaking something behind him, when you dig in your teeth and suck hard on one of his collarbones.  You suckle and kitten lick at the same time, the groans and shivers only provoke you further, only pulling away when your lips start to feel swollen.

He’s thankful again for the privacy of his helmet, as frustrating as it is to not return the favor he can’t seem to regain control of his limbs and jaw, everything going slack as he fights the urge to rut against your body like a horny teenager. 

The weight of what's left of his armor is dragging the thick fabric to the floor, revealing the rich sculpted muscles of his abdomen and the tortuously scandalous dip of his hip bones.  The dull ache of your jaw is ignored as you trail down his warm skin, laving across his nipples as you take your time kissing him, tasting the salt of his skin. 

You blow across the trail of kisses, knowing that the air will feel cold and feeling a little dauntless.  A shiver rolls through him, bringing his hips forward as if begging for your attention.  His cock struggles against the fabric of his underclothes, its weight heavy and practically weeping a delirious amount of precum.  It's the hitch of your breath at the realization of his size that breaks his stupor.  Digging one hand into your hair and shoving the final confines of his clothing to the ground, he takes his cock into his hand, using the precome to tease the head just above your waiting mouth as you admire.

You finally meet the visor with your eyes again, as he stokes himself tauntingly above you, he’s thicker than any you’d seen before, his fingers not even connecting around its circumference, and the flesh is a tad darker than his skin, with slightly darker veins throbbing for your waiting mouth. 

He swears under his breath, as you let your tongue rest on the underside of his thick tip.  He pulls you onto him, barely pressing into your mouth but the edge of his heady moan is irresistible, you need to hear it endlessly until he begged you to stop.  You take more of him in on the accompanying thrusts, swallowing around him as tears brim your eyes.  There's a sense of desperation as he loses his composure his movements less consistent and his body relaxes into the skilled warmth of your mouth. 

By the time you work your way to the base, his sparse curls tickle your nose as you hum around him in contentment, and drool runs down your chin onto your chest.  You realize in embarrassment that you were holding onto the towel, placing it under your injured knee for padding, and you settle more comfortably onto the ground, allowing you to start caressing his balls with your hand. 

His gasp is sinful, depraved even as his hand furls tighter in your hair, teasing the line between pain and pleasure.  You moan around him as he twitches against the back of your throat.  Gently you shake your head side to side, as you get the last inch or so into your mouth.  You hear another loud smash as his head hits the wall a second time, you pause waiting to hear the hiss of a cracked pipe.  Instead, he tugs your head back and forth, hand griping tight but the pace is teasingly gentle.  

Humming in approval, you look up, watching his body fight for breath between curses and moans.  Maker was he handsome, his skin was riddled with various scars and bruises but remained soft and clean, the muscles of his body taut with pleasure and even quivering in his legs as he fought the urge to cum down your throat.

Surprising himself, he guides your head all the way off him, letting himself get a good look at your swollen wet mouth and your naked body as he pulls you back to your feet.  “You’re so beautiful,” he is practically whispering, and you feel as though he’s caressing you with his voice, “Can I,” you step closer to him, pressing more open mouth kisses to the tender base of his throat, “Kriff, Can I fuck you?”  

You hum against his skin in affirmation before taking his collarbone between your teeth and sucking a fresh mark into it.  His arms wrap around your frame as he effortlessly lifts you and you wrap around him, pressing a few gentler, less hungry kisses to the helm where you envision his hairline.  He manages to open the door to his bunk and lays you down.  

He finally gets your entire body laid open for him, letting his hands caress your sides, committing the shapes of your body to memory as he runs over the planes of your body, stopping for a moment to drag his rough fingers over your nipples.  You arch into his touch, feeling as though he is dragging a heated blade of pleasure across your skin.  Coaxing your thighs open with the backs of his hands, he emits a low groan as he swipes two fingers through your folds.  “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but he rolls your clit between two fingers effectively shutting you up.  He nudges against your entrance and then slowly stretches you open while continuously toying with your clit, scissoring two fingers while paying close attention to any shifts in your breath and small noises.  

He pushes his fingers up, and your legs try to close as the new pleasure makes your vision fuzzy.  “Keep those legs open for me c’yare.” He demands, massaging that spot a few more times, and you feel as though you’re gasping for each breath in time with the movements of his fingers.  

Just when you’re about to start begging for him to let you cum, he stops completely, using the moisture on his hands to slick up his length haphazardly before lining up with your fluttering pussy. 

Again, his gentleness stuns you, slowly rocking his hips as he edges deeper into your core.  The stretch is shocking at first, but he gives you plenty of time to adjust, slowly circling your clit with his thumb.  He hooks your legs around his waist, grinding deeper and deeper until his face is hovering inches from yours.  

He presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss.  Each slap of his hips is punctuated by your breathy gasp that fogs up his visor. He’s finally close enough to your skin to smell his soap lingering, and it awakens a part of his brain he didn’t know existed. 

“You’re mine, mesh’la.” He rubs your clit just a fraction harder, “I wanna hear you say it.” 

You struggle to get enough air in your lungs to speak, but the need to please him is greater than your need for breath, “Yours Mando,” His body is fire compared to the cool air of the crest, causing your skin to flush hotly, and a sheen of sweat coating your body, “Anything you want.” 

His grunting is entirely animalistic, the ship could fall out of hyperspace or get attacked by purgills and he would be none the wiser.  The tight grip of your pussy drives him further into insanity, he feels his orgasm creep up his spine and even then he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. “Yeah? I’m gonna cum inside you baby.”

He sits up slightly, changing the angle of his hips to shove impossibly deeper into you as you tighten around him, your own orgasm brimming.  With each faltering snap of his hips, your whine grows louder until you’re pleading with him to cum inside of you, feeling like it’s the only possible way to bring you relief.

He cradles your head in his arm, needing to feel your moans ripple across his skin as he feels you squeeze him like a vice, your legs shaking and practically bucking him off you with the force of your orgasm.  It’s only a few more thrusts before he’s spilling himself inside you and grinding deep until his nerves are on shot and his body is ready to collapse from the stimulation. 

A few quick moments pass, and while collecting your wits, you search his visor again, longing for just a bit of eye contact, but unable to find anything, you give him a soft smile. “I owe Peli 50 credits.” 

Almost unbelievably bubbly, he resigns “I owe her 150, I think we got caught in a sure bet.”  You feign surprise. “I can’t believe she knew before we did.” 

“Sounds like she was a double agent. Maybe she just thinks she’ll get another baby out of it.” Your cheeks heat before you can finish speaking and he’s blushing profusely beneath the helmet. 

He hums in contentment, letting some of his body weight rest on you as he slips free, before shifting to lay your head on his chest.  “I love you.”  His hand rubs circles at the base of your neck, but he can’t help but stare at the dark bruises on your arm. “I’ll get up and get you some bacta in a moment.” 

You were taking over the room with younger children, which was your preference. And so far they’d been wonderful to work with – they were all so excited by new things, so happy to learn. Each day was a joy as you watched them grow.

As you got to know the kids, you also got to know the parents. Teaching the youngest children made you more well-known around town, and it had been easier to settle in than you expected. There was Diima, who was learning how to braid her own hair and had been teaching some of the other kids – her moms had invited you over for dinner and you thought you might end up being friends. Oora, the young Twi’lek who loved spaceships of all kinds – his father ran the food stall in the market that always had the best fruit. And Tamar and Ilana, the twins, who very intentionally never dressed alike – their parents ran the med clinic. 

And then there was Grogu, your smallest student. You’d never met his dad, though you knew of him from Karga and Cara. But so far you’d only learned that Grogu missed him and that he was off planet a lot. He was never there to pick up Grogu, at least not in the few weeks you’d been on Nevarro so far. It was always Cara or IG-11, or a few times even Karga himself. 

As you waved goodbye to the last of the kids for the day – Kiran, a young Mirialan whose mother was a mechanic at the shipyard – you collapsed into your desk chair with a sigh. Cara had come by to pick up Grogu again, but you’d been hoping to finally meet his elusive father. The kids would have a show at the end of the term to sing some songs and show off what they’d been learning. So far you’d been able to invite all of the parents personally when they came to pick the kids up. You sighed again and tapped your data pad – you’d just have to send him a message.

You’d sent him a message only once before, when you first started, just to introduce yourself. You hadn’t gotten a message back.

You stared down at the pad for a moment, biting your lip. Just be straightforward, to the point. You nodded and scrolled down to the contact for Grogu-parent. You saved all of your students’ parents’ contact info that way, though you added their names to the end if you knew them.

you: Hello! This is Grogu’s teacher, I sent you a message a couple of weeks ago when I started. I just wanted to invite you to our end of term show and to let you know that his schedule will be changing a bit, as we’ll be adding a rehearsal once a week. His class will be singing some songs and showing off what they have learned this term. They’re all very excited about it!

You sent another message with the date and time of the show and wondered how you should sign off.

you: I will also let Cara and IG know. Please let me know if you have any questions and if you’ll be able to attend. Thank you!

Once the message was sent, you leaned back in your chair, hoping you’d hear back from him this time. 

You were startled when your pad chimed before you’d even settled into your chair.

Grogu-parent: Hello. Thank you. I will be there.

You grinned. A response! And so quickly! You needed to say something back, to make it clear this was a way he could get in contact with you if needed.

you: Great! I know that will make Grogu very happy. He has really enjoyed learning to follow along to the notes of the songs and he is becoming a very enthusiastic assistant on the drums.

There was a pause, and you wondered if you had said too much, or if he’d gone quiet again. But then your pad chimed. 

Grogu-parent: Something he can hit that makes noise? Sounds perfect for him.

You laughed. If someone had told you that morning that you’d actually talk to Grogu’s elusive dad and that he would make you laugh, you weren’t sure you’d have believed them.

Grogu-parent: Thank you for telling me. I know I miss a lot when I’m off planet.

Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t thought of it that way and wanted to kick yourself. Of course his dad would be sad to miss hearing about what Grogu did in school, and all the little ways he was growing and learning. Your heart squeezed in sympathy.

you: Would you like me to send you more updates? I would be happy to do it. I usually share them with parents at the end of the day. I’m sorry I didn’t think to send them to you this way instead.

Grogu-parent: That’s alright. I know I never replied to your message, I didn’t get it until days later. Yes, please send me updates. I might not be able to reply right away but I will be happy to get them.

You tilted your head as you read his message, wondering what sort of work he was doing. 

you: Oh that’s fine! I’ll start sending you updates, but no pressure to respond to them. I understand you must be busy. 

Grogu-parent: I’ll respond when I can. Thank you again. 

You smiled as you set your pad down and stood from your desk. Finally, you thought. You’d made contact with Grogu’s dad! You walked out of the schoolhouse with a spring in your step.

As you made your way to the market to pick up something for dinner, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. You were happy you’d moved to Nevarro, you realized – you liked the people and the growing feeling of community that you had been welcomed to join almost immediately. There were beings of all kinds in the little city, from all over the galaxy – you’d met a fellow newcomer just the day before, a friend of Cara’s from the resistance who was good with plants. You’d met Carm, a Bothan, who had a knack for fixing droids. You were pretty sure you’d even spotted a Mando, once or twice, and Diima’s mom had told you about the family that had just moved in next door to them and was planning to open a restaurant. 

It was a nice place to live. You were happy you’d decided to take the offer.

…

The next day, when Cara picked up Grogu, you let her know that you’d also invited his dad to the show. Grogu chirped and smiled at you, and you smiled back.

“That’s right, bud, your dad is coming!”

Cara grinned. “See? I told you he would, squirt.” Grogu made a noise like a cheer and waved his little arms and you both laughed. “See you tomorrow, teach!” Cara tossed Grogu lightly in the air as she turned and he squealed. 

You smiled, shaking your head at their antics as you made your way back to your desk. You knew just what you wanted to tell his dad.

you: Today Grogu kept working really hard on trying to write his name! The Aurebesh characters are still new and tricky for them, but he honestly does pretty well when we can draw them in the sand with his claws. He also shared his snack with his friend Oora, which was sweet.

You didn’t get an answer right away, and you tried not to be disappointed. It had been nice to talk to him the day before, but you knew he was busy with work, whatever work he did. You packed up your bag and hefted it onto your shoulder.

When your pad chimed, you dropped it unceremoniously back onto your chair.

Grogu-parent: Are you sure you’re talking about my kid? He’s not usually one to share food.

You laughed, but before you could reply your pad chimed again.

Grogu-parent: That’s great about his name. I know he knows so much, even though he seems so little.

You nodded as you typed your response. 

you: He does! I can tell. Sometimes he gets a little bit frustrated when he can’t communicate the way he wants. But the kids are all great with each other and they really listen to him, even without words.

Grogu-parent: I’m glad to hear it. I worried he would be too little for the class, even though technically he’s older than I am.

You laughed and tucked away that little tidbit of information.

you: I know he’s technically the oldest, but he’s also not the youngest, in terms of development. They’re a good group and they get along well.

Grogu-parent: He is an old baby, isn’t he? Thank you. Again.

You laughed and found yourself smiling again as you walked to the market. You wished you knew his name, but it felt awkward at this point to ask. You supposed he’d have to stay “Grogu-parent” in your pad. For now.

…

After that, you fell into a bit of a rhythm.

He wasn’t always able to reply immediately – sometimes you came in to work in the morning to find his response waiting for you, and you didn’t let yourself wait for more than a few minutes at the end of the day.

But he always replied. 

You found him easy to talk to, with a clear sense of humor and love for his son that you could feel through the messages. It infused every word he sent you, and it made you smile softly whenever you thought about it. You still felt bad that you hadn’t thought of this arrangement earlier. But you tried to make up for it with more details now.

…

you: Grogu led the other kids in a game today at recess. It seemed to be a mixture of tag and catch, and I’m not sure if he made it up, but they had fun. And I was proud of him for teaching them without words!

Grogu-parent: Sounds like the game he learned from a friend’s kid on Sorgan. I’ve seen him play it before, but I’ve never figured out the rules. I’m not convinced they don’t make them up each time they play it.

…

you: Grogu drew you a picture today! From what I could tell it’s your house, he was very proud of it.

Grogu-parent: I can’t wait to see it. He has a collection growing at home on the walls of his room.

…

you: Today we learned about hyperspace, and Grogu got really excited when I showed some footage of what it looks like to travel in hyperspace from the cockpit. He’s not the only kid who’s been in space, of course, and they all had a lot of fun sharing about their experiences. He drew us a picture of what I think is your ship, and the other kids loved it.

Grogu-parent: He does love hyperspace. I think it’s the colors. That kid loves to fly, even to go upside down. Never seen someone treat an evasive maneuver like a thrill ride like that.

you: Evasive maneuvers, huh? Sounds intense!

Grogu-parent: It’s been a while, but when he first came to me we had to run from some people who were looking for him. And me. Took us around the galaxy for a bit.

You remembered the school’s security measures that Karga and Cara had told you about and furrowed your brow.

you: Is everything ok now? Is he in any danger? Are you?

Grogu-parent: We took care of it. But that’s why we have the alerts in place at the school. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.

you: I’m not worried about me! But Grogu and the rest of the kids! I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt them.

You could believe it, though. You just didn’t want to.

you: I mean, I know the Galaxy can be like that. I just wish it wasn’t.

Grogu-parent: I know what you mean. I wish that, too.

You didn’t realize until later while you were eating dinner that he’d never answered your question about his own safety, and it made you worry. You didn’t even know what his job was, you realized, and felt the worry settle in your chest.

…

you: Grogu made you another picture but this time he refused to use any color except blue. I’m not sure what it is, but he was very insistent about it! Cara took it home for you.

Grogu-parent: I’m not surprised, he loves blue things. I can’t wait to see it.

…

you: Today Oora gave a demonstration of a traditional dance he learned from his family, and surprised us all – apparently Grogu had been helping him practice and knew the dance, too! It was very sweet of him to dance with Oora when he got nervous.

Grogu-parent: He does love music, and he really loves helping his friends. He feels everything so strongly.

Grogu-parent: I’ll tell him, too, but if you remember tomorrow, please tell him I’m proud of him.

…

For once, you had evening plans.

You hurried home at the end of the week to drop your bag and then to meet Cara and Diima’s moms at the cantina. When they’d invited you, you’d internally done a victory dance – you’d made friends!! – but externally, you’d kept your cool. Mostly.

Cara was the only one there when you arrived, and you settled in beside her in the booth.

“Teach!” She greeted you with a grin. “Whatcha drinkin’? How are the kids?”

You gave her your order and soon you had a drink, too. You filled her in on what your charges had been up to that week, getting a few laughs at their antics. “What about you, constable? Anything new?”

“Well, we were going to take care of a reptavian problem over towards the east end of the lava flats, but Mando had to go off planet again. We’ll wait for him to get back, could use his firepower.”

You tilted your head. You figured she was talking about the shiny Mando you’d seen around the market sometimes. “Who–”

But before you could ask, Neela and Aminet arrived, and by the end of the night you forgot you’d even had a question at all.

…

you: Grogu got excited when we learned about banthas and blurrgs today! We’re focusing on the letter Besh if you couldn’t tell. Then he drew a blurrg, it was honestly a pretty great likeness.

Grogu-parent: He’s met a few before, so he knows them pretty well.

you: Wow! When did Grogu meet a blurrg?

Grogu-parent: When I first met him, we had a friend who kept them. He’s even ridden one before. 

you: You know, his picture from today makes a lot more sense now. He drew a little Grogu on top of the blurrg.

Grogu-parent: He really likes blurrgs. They seem to like him too, which is good. Otherwise I’d be afraid they were going to eat him.

you: That IS good because they definitely would.

…

At some point, your messages with Grogu’s dad became less focused on Grogu. You still always made sure to send an update, of course, but you were starting to get to know him, too.

You were trying not to look too hard at how that was making you feel. 

You’ve never even seen this man. 

You were starting to realize that that might not matter to you. 

…

you: Today we went on a little field trip to the market and Grogu was very well behaved! 

Grogu-parent: Are you sure you’re talking about my kid? He didn’t try to eat every blue treat in sight?

you: Well, no, he did do that. But then we stopped and talked to the man who makes those blue cookies he likes – his name is Tam – and he showed Grogu how carefully he has to make each one. The way Grogu held the one Tam gave him made me think he was in awe. Anyway after that he was very well-behaved

Grogu-parent: He does love to learn new things. I bet he loved watching the cookies get made.

you: He really did! And me, too. I had no idea they were so finicky

Grogu-parent: Not a baker?

you: I can make bread ok, I guess. Tam’s got real skill.

Grogu-parent: I can only make a few dishes but I’m trying to learn more for Grogu.

you: I bet he loves that! Is it hard to cook on your ship?

Grogu-parent: I don’t really, no space for it. I mostly rely on rations or quick things until I’m home.

you: Ok that sounds not so great, so PLEASE promise me you’ll try the new restaurant when you get back. It’s really good and you’ll deserve it after all those rations!

Grogu-parent: I will.

You tamped down the part of yourself that wondered if you could bring some long-lasting food that Grogu could give to his dad for his next trip. That was probably too much for a person you’d never even met. Right?

…

you: The kids have been taking turns telling stories about their families, and Grogu told us one in pictures today. It seemed to involve a lot of snow and spiders? Ice spiders? Are those real?

Grogu-parent: Of course he picked that story.

Grogu-parent: Yes, it was when we were on the run, like I told you before. My ship was damaged and we had to do an emergency landing on an ice planet.

Grogu-parent: The local fauna did not appreciate Grogu’s approach to exploring the area and chased us back to the ship.

you: Holy kriff! We’re they actually as big as a house, or was that his creative license taking over the drawing?

Grogu-parent: Most of them were small. One of them wasn’t.

you: That sounds absolutely terrifying

you: I’m so glad you’re both ok!! How did you get away?

Grogu-parent: A couple of the New Republic guys from Adelphi had followed us and helped out. But we had to limp over to Trask to get the ship fixed.

you: You know, that is basically what Grogu drew for us, I think I just couldn’t believe it was all true.

you: Ok my mind is totally blown. Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?

Grogu-parent: More than I would like, yes.

…

you: Grogu did really well with addition today! We’re learning about adding and subtracting with piles of tokens. He even helped his friend Kiran with a tricky one!

Grogu-parent: He’s so smart, I’m glad he’s getting to show it.

you: He really is! And he loves to learn.

Grogu-parent: I’m glad he’s so good at making friends. I was worried about him. I don’t set the best example.

you: What do you mean? You have so many friends

Grogu-parent: I can’t tell if you’re joking.

you: Not joking! There’s Cara, and Karga, and IG. 

Grogu-parent: 3? Is that a lot? I don’t think I’m very good at being friendly.

You hesitated, but it did feel right to call him a friend, at this point.

you: Well, you’ve also mentioned knowing people on at least two other planets. And you’re friendly with me! That is, if you don’t mind being friends with someone who sometimes forgets to switch out of “talking to kids” voice when talking to adults. And who is usually partially covered in arts and crafts.

Grogu-parent: I don’t mind. I’d like to be your friend.

You grinned and did not do a little victory dance. Definitely not. 

you: me too!

That one had made you float home.

…

you: Wait, you really calculate all your jumps yourself?

you: That’s so impressive! Does it take a long time? 

Grogu-parent: It did when I first started, but I’ve done it so many times it’s not so bad now.

you: Grogu must get his math skills from you.

Grogu-parent: So much happened in his life before I found him. Most of the time I feel like I’m learning things from him, and not the other way around. 

You felt a little squeeze around your heart at the thought of Grogu without this man, without his dad. You were glad they’d found each other.

you: That’s adorable, but you should know he shows us things that you taught him all the time.

Grogu-parent: Uh oh. Like what?

you: Today he showed us how to tie a cape around your neck so it will stay on. It made me wonder – do you wear a cape?

There was a pause that made you wonder if you shouldn’t have asked. Your message screen moved up as if a new message was about to come in, but then nothing did for another minute.

Grogu-parent: I do. Sometimes.

You laughed, a bit wonderingly. Who is this man?

…

you: Today some of the students shared stories or keepsakes from their homeworld or families – this isn’t a mandatory activity, since I know it can be complicated for some. Grogu drew us a picture of IG-11, I think. But he got really excited when Tamar mentioned that the twins have family on Tatooine, of all places.

Grogu-parent: He’s been there, so that was probably it. I guess I do have another friend there, too. Maybe two.

you: Ok, I’m starting to think you really undersold your ability to make friends

Grogu-parent: I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not good at being friendly.

you: You’re friendly with me! And how else did you get all these friends, then?

Grogu-parent: I ask myself that all the time. 

Grogu-parent: But it’s easy to be friendly with you.

You blinked and felt your face heat up, suddenly glad you were alone in your classroom. 

…

you: Today in rehearsal Grogu showed us that he memorized his part for the show! It was very cute, I’m sure he’ll do it at home for you.

Grogu-parent: Oh I’ve seen it. He’s been working hard on it.

you: Of course he has! I could tell

Grogu-parent: I’ll be on planet next week, maybe I could watch a rehearsal? If that’s alright. I don’t want to be in the way.

You grinned at your pad, but you also felt suddenly nervous. Were you ready to actually meet him? You didn’t even know his name.

you: Of course! No, you won’t be in the way, we have plenty of space. It will be so nice to finally meet you!

Grogu-parent: Ok, good. Yes, it will be.

…

On the day of the rehearsal you walked into the schoolhouse buzzing with nerves and excitement. 

You were going to meet him. Grogu’s dad, whose name you still didn’t know, somehow, but whose kind, funny, possibly-edging-towards-flirty messages were starting to take over your thoughts. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you couldn’t help it.

You were going to meet him. 

You managed to tamp down your excitement as your class arrived and took up all of your attention, but it never quite left your mind. By the time rehearsal rolled around after lunch, the nerves were back.

With 10 minutes to go, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the door what felt like every 5 seconds. Diima’s mom Aminet arrived, and then the twins’ parents. You knew Kiran’s mom was going to try to get away from the shipyard, too.

The door opened again, and you turned to see her slipping inside and smiled. When you looked past her, you were startled to see the Mandalorian you’d seen around town standing in the street, about 15 feet from the school and framed by the door to your classroom.

He was tall, with very shiny armor and very broad shoulders. He was also covered in a slightly intimidating amount of weaponry, though you knew he was Cara’s friend and so you weren’t actually that scared. For a moment you simply stared at him, and even though his face was covered, you had a feeling he was staring back.

Curious, you took a step towards the open doorway, but that seemed to shock him into action. He took a corresponding step back, looked around, and then turned and walked away.

You poked your head out of the door and watched as he turned a corner, heading towards the market.

Weird.

You heard the kids start to make more noise behind you and turned, realizing it was time to begin.

…

Grogu’s dad never did show, but you tried not to let it get you down. At least, not until after the kids had left.

When Cara came to pick up Grogu, she smiled ruefully and shrugged. “I know, he was supposed to come. Sent me a message asking me to swing by, something came up.”

You sighed and shrugged back. “That’s alright. I know he’s busy.”

Your pad stayed stubbornly silent, and you left it at the school to discourage yourself from obsessively checking it all night long.

What happened?

…

Yawning, you dropped into your desk chair the next morning with a sigh. You hadn’t slept well, too worked up over what had – and hadn’t – happened the day before.

But your heart leapt into your throat when you saw you had a message waiting.

Grogu-parent: I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. I had to go off planet again, and it was pretty last minute. 

Grogu-parent: I already apologized to Grogu but I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet. I was looking forward to it.

From the timestamps you could see that he’d sent the messages while you were at home, trying to sleep. You bit your lip, wondering what to say back. It helped that he apologized but you still felt disappointed. 

you: That’s ok. I know you’re busy! I would have liked to meet. Maybe next time?

Grogu-parent: I shouldn’t be too busy for this. Next time, yes. 

you: Deal. I’m counting on you, friend

There was a long pause that made you bite your lip. Was that too much? You started to put the pad down, sighing.

But then another message appeared.

Grogu-parent: Since we’re friends, you should call me Din.

You froze. Din?

His name.

You started to grin.

you: I see you, trying to make me forget about missing you yesterday by telling me your name today!

As soon as you send the message you hesitate, wondering if that was too much. But he told me his name! This has to be flirting. We’re flirting. Right?

Grogu-parent: Missing me?

Kark. Of course he noticed that. Before you could even feel the heat reach your face he sent another message.

Grogu-parent: I really wanted to be there. 

you: I’m just teasing you, Din. Thank you for telling me

You grinned and changed his contact name.

Grogu-parent-Din: I missed meeting you, too

…

After Din told you his name, it seemed like your conversations just… flowed. You were opening up to each other in ways you hadn’t quite been able to before and it was making you feel giddy. 

On top of that, you were pretty sure he was flirting with you. At least, you hoped so. You couldn’t stop turning the question over in your mind. 

It’s not like you could ask anyone. You hadn’t told anyone you were having actual conversations with this man you’d never met – all Cara knew was that you sent him updates. 

These weren’t exactly updates.

you: Anyway, Grogu loved it. Painting with feet is always a popular activity but he was very enthusiastic

Grogu-parent-Din: That doesn’t surprise me at all. He loves making a mess.

You laughed.

Grogu-parent-Din: Is this one of those days when you’re covered in arts and crafts?

You blinked. He remembered that? And he was thinking about that? Was he thinking about what you looked like? You hesitated, and then typed your response.

you: Oh definitely. I’m wearing more paint than clothes at this point.

Kriffing hell. Why did I just say that? You stared down at your pad, incredulous. That had to be too much. You definitely shouldn’t be flirting with a parent like that. And you hadn’t even meant to flirt! You started to type again, to apologize, but he beat you to it.

Grogu-parent-Din: Sounds like quite a sight.

you: See, I warned you, being friends with me means being friends with someone who can’t stop kids from covering her in paint.

Grogu-parent-Din: Never said it would be a bad sight. 

You felt a tingle run up your spine. Did he–

Grogu-parent-Din: You’re not afraid of a mess. Neither am I. 

Grogu-parent-Din: You’re a good teacher. 

Kriff, you wished you knew what this man looked like. You said goodbye and stood up to leave, you should not be having thoughts like this in your classroom.

Not afraid of a mess, he’d said. 

Kriff.

…

Din kept flirting with you. It had to be flirting, you’d decided. (And you were definitely flirting.) But neither of you had addressed it directly. 

You spent your days with the kids, and about half an hour every afternoon flirting with Grogu’s dad. And then the rest of your evening thinking about it.

you: Grogu drew us a picture of a sort of humanoid-looking figure hanging off the side of a Jawa sandcrawler. It was pretty small in comparison with the sandcrawler, but was that you?

Grogu-parent-Din: Unfortunately, yes.

you: How did you end up hanging off the side of a sandcrawler??

Grogu-parent-Din: The Jawas took apart my ship, stole the parts. I was trying to get them back.

you: Well I assume you did, since you still have a ship

you: How did you get them back? Dare I ask?

Grogu-parent-Din: That’s a long one, but it involved me getting something they wanted from a mudhorn. 

you: A mudhorn?? An actual mudhorn

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ll tell you the whole story sometime. But yeah, I got the parts back. Got a whole new ship now, though, that one got blown up later.

You realized you were staring down at your pad, mouth dropped open, frozen. 

you: … Din. 

you: Blown up???

Grogu-parent-Din: You know, when I list it all out like this, it sounds kind of ridiculous.

you: Kind of?

you: Does this kind of thing still happen to you?

Grogu-parent-Din: I won’t lie, sometimes it does. But not nearly as often. 

Grogu-parent-Din: I promise, I’m careful. Much more these days.

you: You swear?

Grogu-parent-Din: I do.

you: Alright. 

As you set down your pad, you thought about what you knew about Din. He wore a cape, did evasive maneuvers in his ship, had friends on multiple planets, and sometimes hung off the side of sandcrawlers and fought mudhorns. Someday you’d find out what his job was, and this would all make more sense. 

You hoped.

…

At some point after he told you his name, you started taking your pad home.

It made sense, right? It would be rude to cut off the conversation because you had to go home, of all things.

And so like most nights, you found yourself sitting on your bed, smiling down at your pad, talking to Din for what you refused to recognize was over an hour at this point.

Grogu-parent-Din: You know, I didn’t realize how much calmer my life is now until I started telling you these stories.

you: I’m just glad your life IS calmer now! Din, sometimes you tell me things and I don’t know how you survived.

Grogu-parent-Din: Me too. That it’s calmer now, I mean. For Grogu, of course, but I get a lot more sleep these days.

you: I know you’re busy, but maybe you could stick around for a bit longer next time. Relax a bit? I think you need it

Grogu-parent-Din: I’m not very good at relaxing. 

you: Maybe you just need someone to show you how it’s done

You were flirting again. You bit your lip.

Grogu-parent-Din: You volunteering?

You grinned. He was flirting back.

you: I might be. What do you say?

Grogu-parent-Din: I say I’d like that. 

you: Yeah?

Grogu-parent-Din: Yeah, cyar’ika. Show me how to relax.

You let out a noise that you were glad no one was around to hear.

you: What’s that mean?

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ll tell you when we’re relaxing.

you: Promise?

Grogu-parent-Din: Promise.

…

With only a couple of weeks to go before the show, you were starting to feel the pressure, both for the kids and because you were finally going to meet Din.

He would have to come to the show, right? He said he would. You were pretty sure your distraction was noticeable – Cara had almost called you out on it multiple times. She’d taken to squinting at you and smirking knowingly when she caught you checking your pad. 

A few nights after the promise to let you show him how to relax – which you couldn’t let yourself dwell on, not if you wanted to get anything done – he told you about his ship getting blown up.

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ve got a new one, of course, but I do miss that ship.

you: Of course you do! How long did you have it?

Grogu-parent-Din: Almost 15 years.

Your jaw dropped. He’d lost his home of 15 years?

you: Din, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

There was a long pause that made you worry you’d somehow overstepped. You started to type, to backtrack, when his response appeared.

Grogu-parent-Din: Thank you. 

Grogu-parent-Din: I think people expected me to just get a new ship, but for a while I didn’t want to.

you: Of course not!

you: ugh, who said that? Let me talk to them

Grogu-parent-Din: It’s ok, cyar’ika. No need. 

Grogu-parent-Din: Of course you can make me smile when I’m thinking about this.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tucked yourself into a ball around your pad on your bed. He smiled. 

you: I made you smile?

Grogu-parent-Din: You always make me smile.

Your own smile felt so big it was taking over your face.

you: You make me smile too, you know. Even when we’re not talking, you make me smile

Grogu-parent-Din: Yeah? How do I manage that?

you: I may or may not think about you, you know… sometimes.

Grogu-parent-Din: I think about you all the time.

You felt your entire body get hot and tingly and gasped.

you: Din!

Grogu-parent-Din: I do. Lately you’re all I want to think about.

you: Din. Are you flirting with me?

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ve been flirting with you, cyar’ika. Nice of you to finally notice.

You wanted to hide your face, even though you were the only person in your apartment. You settled for kicking your feet like a weirdo.

you: I hoped you were. I’ve been flirting too, you know

Grogu-parent-Din: Oh I know.

you: Din!

Grogu-parent-Din: I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you last time. I wish I had.

you: Well, the show is next week! so soon! We can actually meet

you: It’s not your fault you had to work.

There was another long pause, and you furrowed your brow, but it couldn’t quite wipe the smile off your face.

Grogu-parent-Din: So I might have lied about that.

you: About what?

You frowned down at the pad.

Grogu-parent-Din: I didn’t have to go off planet suddenly.

you: What?? Din what are you talking about

You didn’t like the swooping sensation in your stomach. So then why had he left?

Grogu-parent-Din: I did come by the school that day, but I couldn’t go in.

you: Why not??

Grogu-parent-Din: I saw you, and I know, I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair that I’ve seen you. But I saw you, and you were smiling at someone, and you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika. 

Your mouth dropped open. What?

Grogu-parent-Din: I froze. I got tongue-tied, I guess. All of a sudden I just knew, but I wasn’t prepared. And then I ran like a coward. I’m sorry.

You handled your pad in shaking hands, making a few more typos than you usually did.

you: Din, are you tellign me that you thought I was so beautiful you ran awaY?

Grogu-parent-Din: Basically, yes. I know, I know, Cara already read me the riot act. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t run next week.

you: You better not!! I can’t believe you’ve seen me and I’ve never seen you.

He ran away because you were too beautiful? What the kark? This sort of thing did not happen to you.

Grogu-parent-Din: I promise I will be there next week and I won’t run away.

you: Good.

you: No one’s ever thought I was so beautiful they RAN before, you know

Grogu-parent-Din: That you know of.

you: You know, that’s a good point

…

By the day of the show, you were a wreck.

You and Din talked every night, and it was wonderful, but it felt like a build up to something that was going to change your life. You didn’t want to put that much pressure on a simple meeting, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You liked him so, so much.

And on top of that, the kids were excited and nervous and bouncing off the walls. Literally, in some cases. You wanted things to go well for them, and you wanted things to go well for you.

It was a lot.

Grogu-parent-Din: Can I come by early? Or should I wait until after?

you: PLEASE come early. I can’t wait through the whole show to meet you, I’ll be too nervous! The kids are going home for a couple of hours after school, and then they have to be back for the show

Grogu-parent-Din: Cara is taking Grogu with Oora for a final practice together and I said I’d meet her there. So I can come as early as you’d like. You tell me when to be there and I will.

Your hands were shaking again.

you: How about half an hour before the kids are due back? Gives me time to have emotions but not to get TOO distracted.

Grogu-parent-Din: Am I going to give you emotions, cyar’ika?

you: You know you are, Din.

…

Somehow, the kids had been gone for an hour and you’d managed to finish setting everything up in the small auditorium. The little stage was ready and the decorations were perfect.

And now all you had to do was wait for Din.

It was nerve-wracking. You were doing your best not to watch the clock, but with fifteen minutes to go before he was supposed to arrive, you found yourself pacing around your classroom, talking to yourself.

You were debating running to the corner and back just to work out some energy when someone cleared their throat behind you.

You whirled, heart in your throat, and were surprised to find the Mandalorian you’d seen around town standing in the doorway of your classroom.

“Oh! Hello, Mando.” You took a deep breath and resisted the urge to twist your hands together. “Can I help you with something?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked around the room, and you took a moment to study him. His armor was very shiny, and it fit him very well. He was a very broad man, you realized. And he had fewer weapons on him than the last time you saw him, though of course he still had some.

He took a step inside and his cape swayed behind him.

“You know,” he said, and his voice was deep and warm. You thought he might be smiling, but wondered how you could tell. “I know it’s not realistic, but I really did picture you more covered in paint.”

You froze and felt a tingling sensation flow from your feet to your head, making you suddenly lightheaded. It can’t be. 

“...Din?” you breathed, stunned. Your eyes traveled over the length of him again, and then suddenly caught on the cape. 

He stepped forward again and then he was right in front of you. You couldn’t stop gaping at him. 

“Hi, cyar’ika,” he said, voice deep. He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers against yours. 

Your body finally kicked back into gear at his touch and you shoved him lightly in his armored chest. “Din!” You put both of your palms on his chest and marveled at the fact that he was here, in front of you, solidly physical and real. “You’re here!”

He chuckled, and you marveled again at being able to hear him. “I promised I would be.”

You felt yourself start to smile and noticed his helmet dipped. “I can’t believe you’re here.” You ran your hands down his chest and then froze. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just started touching you, I didn’t even ask–” You started to pull your hands away but he caught them and placed your hands back on his chest.

“You can touch me,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you asked, grinning.

He nodded. 

“I may have thought about it… a lot,” you confessed, stepping even closer. 

His hands released yours and came to rest on your hips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

For a moment you just grinned at him, a bit stunned. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come in last time,” he said, and he did sound sorry. “I wanted to, I just…”

Now that you had him in front of you, real and solid and a man, it felt suddenly easier to tease him. “But you were overwhelmed by my beauty, huh?”

You gasped when he tugged you closer and squeezed your hips. “I was,” he agreed. “You are so kriffing beautiful, cyar’ika.”

You felt yourself begin to melt, but then remembered. “Wait,” you said, looking up at his visor. “You promised – what does that mean?”

He leaned down and nudged your forehead gently with his helmet.

“Sweetheart.”

…

The kids’ show went off without a hitch. Grogu was overjoyed to have his dad in the audience and played the drums with more enthusiasm than you had ever seen him have in practice. All of the kids did well, and their parents kept telling you how impressed they were as they headed home.

As soon as the area around you cleared, after the show, Din appeared with Grogu in his arms.

“Grogu, you did so well!” You reached your fist out to bump his little one and he cheered. “I’m so proud of you and I know your dad is, too.” You looked up at Din, who nodded. 

“I am,” he agreed, “I told him.” He looked down at Grogu. “Right, bud?” Grogu made a little noise that definitely sounded like agreement.

“Are you heading out?” You asked, smiling at Cara when she came to join your group. 

Din nodded. “Taking this one home. But, I wanted to ask – are you free tomorrow?”

You grinned. “I am.”

He took a step closer and Grogu made a little bah noise. “I’ll message you. But you have plans.”

You could feel Cara smirking at the two of you but you couldn’t look away from Din. “I do?”

Din leaned a little bit closer. “You do now.”

You said goodnight, but the warmth from finally meeting Din and knowing you had plans later carried you home. 

Grogu-parent-Din: Meet me at the market after lunch?

you: Yes! What are our plans?

Smiling, you made an update to his contact.

Din: I’m ready to learn how to relax.

…

You stood by the large tree at the edge of the market, nervous but excited. You’d spent too much time picking out your clothes and now that you were there, you couldn’t stop remembering how it had felt to finally touch him.

“You look beautiful,” a warm voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

“Din!” You grinned. He was very shiny in the midday sun. 

He stepped closer and one of his hands came up to cup your upper arm. His gloved thumb moved back and forth across your skin in a light caress. “Hi, cyar’ika.”

You felt your face heat at the endearment, now that you knew what it meant.

“I’m ready to relax,” he said, voice teasing. 

You laughed and leaned a bit closer. He was right there, in front of you, and you felt like you were floating. “Alright. I say we walk through the market and stock up on some snacks, and then we’ll try out some aimless relaxation. Preferably on a couch or other soft surface. And maybe we’ll listen to some music.”

Din nodded along to your instructions, turning to follow as you walked towards the market. He slid his hand down your arm and slipped it into yours. “Does your place have a couch?”

You looked at him. “Din, would you like to come back to my place? Do you have time?”

He leaned forward and nudged his helmet against your forehead again. “Cara’s got Grogu. I’m all yours. And yes, I do want to.”

“Great,” you said, smiling, and started to point out your favorite stalls. You collected some fruit and cookies from Tam and some other snacks as you walked. 

Din took each item and stored them in a bag as you collected them. “Are these the cookies Grogu learned how to make?” 

You nodded. “And he still loves them.” 

Din laughed. “Of course he does.”

Once you had a nice assortment, you turned in the direction of your apartment. As you walked, you marveled at how easy, how right it felt, to spend time together in person. 

“Is it nice, being back on planet?” you asked. 

He nodded once. “Food’s much better,” he said, and you smiled. “So’s the company.”

You turned onto the small street with the door to your apartment. “Flatterer.”

As you stepped up to your door to unlock it, Din stepped up close behind you. So close you could feel the heat of his body. “It’s the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt a shiver travel up your back as you finally unlocked the door, followed by the tips of his fingers as they followed the shiver. “Well, here it is.” You waved your arm at your apartment and stood to the side to welcome Din inside.

He looked around, and suddenly you felt nervous. Before you could get too worked up, though, he said, “I like it. It’s very warm, like you.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Din stepped closer and nudged your forehead with his helmet again. “You’re easy to talk to, and so warm in all of our conversations. It feels like that.”

You leaned closer. “Does this mean something?” You nudged his helmet.

He hummed. “It’s a Keldabe kiss. It’s how we kiss without removing our helmets.”

“Din!” You exclaimed, leaning back to look at him. “You kissed me when we met yesterday?”

“Couldn’t help it.” He leaned in to do it again and you grinned. “I’ve been wanting to for weeks.”

You reached down and took his hand, tugging him towards the living area. “Come on. We have some relaxing to do.”

To your surprise, rather than joining you on the couch, he started stripping off his armor and placing the pieces carefully on your dining table. He must have noticed your surprise because he explained, “Relaxing, right? This will be more comfortable.”

You watched carefully, taking note of each piece. When he was finished he was just wearing his flight suit and helmet. You couldn’t help but ask, “not the helmet?” 

Din seemed to tense for a moment, but then he relaxed. “No. I… my creed. I can’t take it off in front of other living things.”

You tilted your head, considering this information. “Not even Grogu?”

He shook his head. “Grogu is clan, he’s my son. Our clan can see our faces.”

That made sense. “Alright. Want to sit?”

You gestured at the seat next to you and smiled as he sat. 

“You don’t…” he trailed off and turned in his seat to look at you head on. “You don’t have more questions?”

You turned sideways and leaned against the back of your couch, propping your chin on your hand. Your knee brushed against his leg. “No, not right now. I mean, I want to know more, but mostly I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready, right? If it’s stuff I can know.” You reached over and slipped your hand into his and squeezed. “I don’t want to push you, and I like the way we’ve been talking.”

He leaned forward and squeezed your hand. “I like it too.” His voice was suddenly much deeper. “Thank you.”

You smiled. “Are you thanking me for being patient?”

Din nodded. “I am. So what’s the next step in our day of relaxation?”

You gestured at your sound system. “Let me put on something soothing.” You grabbed your data pad from the coffee table and set it up. “There.”

Soft music started to play and you eased back into your seat. 

“Do we just sit here?” Din asked, sounding a little baffled. 

It made you smile. “Yes, but we can talk. Or you can always lie down, that’s much more relaxing.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it against your thigh. “Want to try it?”

“Here?” He pointed at the couch and you nodded. He hesitated and then took off his boots. He slowly leaned down until he was lying back against the pillow. As soon as his back was flat he groaned. “Ok, maybe I needed this.”

“Maybe you need a back rub,” you replied. 

Din laughed. “Probably. I don’t know if I’ve ever had one. You offering?”

“Never?” You shook your head, incredulous. “Ask me again later. We’re relaxing right now.” You fell into an easy conversation about your week and you finally found out more about his job. As you talked, you leaned further into the couch and started idly tracing shapes along his chest with your fingertips without even realizing you were doing it. 

“A bounty hunter makes so much more sense than what I was thinking,” you remarked as he finished telling you about his last job. “All of your ridiculous stories make sense now.”

Din laughed again and you realized you wanted to hear that sound more. Every day, if you could.

“That’s good. I realized in retrospect how it all sounds when I was talking to you.” He reached up and laced his fingers through yours, stilling your hand against his chest. “It doesn’t scare you?”

You looked down at his visor and smiled. “I was already worrying about you, but I know you’re capable. I could tell from your stories. If anything, it’s reassuring — you must be good at it, to be doing it this long.” You sighed. “But I probably will still worry, yes.”

Din hummed and you felt certain he was looking at you, too, even though you couldn’t tell through the dark glass. “Cara offered me more work around here. I think I’ll take her up on it. I’ll still go off planet sometimes, but not as much.”

“Well,” you said, smiling, “I won’t pretend I don’t like the sound of that. But you don’t have to do that just because we’re, um…” you trailed off as you realized you didn’t exactly know what you were. 

“Relaxing together?” He teased, and you laughed. “It would be better for Grogu, that’s important. But I do want to be here more so I can see you more. Not only send messages.” He squeezed your hand. “I like you.”

You felt something warm settle inside you at his words and you were certain it showed on your face. “I like you too, Din.”

You told him more stories about the kids’ antics during the week, but you realized as you finished a story about Kiran trying to adopt a lizard from the lava flats as the class pet — and Grogu wanting to eat it, instead — that Din had fallen asleep. 

You smiled and curled your body more around his helmet and the pillow in your lap. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with you filled you with warmth. You took the opportunity to study this man who had somehow swept you off your feet through pad messages. Even without seeing his face, you could tell he was attractive – his body was toned and strong, but not thin. You could tell he was used to very physical work. You traced his shoulders and arms and chest with your eyes and bit your lip – he was much more exposed like this, without armor. You could see the outline of his body and it made you press your thighs together under the pillow. 

Get it together, you told yourself sternly. We are relaxing, not ogling. 

He stirred, suddenly, and you couldn’t help but soothe him. “Shhh, go back to sleep,” you murmured. “Relax.” He seemed to settle again at the sound of your voice, so you kept talking. “I’m really glad you feel comfortable here, Din. With me.” You hummed along to the music softly for a moment. “You really are very handsome. I can tell. And kriff, these shoulders. And your hands.” You laughed softly at yourself. “I already liked you, you know? Without seeing you. But now…” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by what you were admitting even though he was asleep.

At least, you thought he was asleep.

He startled you by responding, suddenly, and tightened his hold on your hand on his chest to keep you from pulling away. “Now?” he asked, voice scratchy and deep. “Now what, cyar’ika?”

You felt your face heat up. “How much of that did you hear?”

Din hummed and settled more into the couch. “Something about my shoulders.”

“Kriff,” you said, laughing. “That’s so embarrassing.”

He shook his head. “No, I liked it.” He squeezed your hand. “What were you going to say? But now…” he prompted you, and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Now I like you and I can’t stop looking at you, I guess.”

He looked at you for a moment, helmet tilted back. Then he started to sit up. You made a noise in complaint but he settled in much closer to you than before with his arm over the back of the couch. You were touching from shoulder to knee. Your breath caught. 

“Is that really what you were going to say, mesh’la?” He leaned in towards you and pressed his helmet to your forehead again. 

You shivered. “Din—“ you started, not sure what you were going to say. 

“Tell me,” he urged you softly. He dropped his arm over your shoulders and suddenly you were totally wrapped up in his warmth. 

“I already liked you,” you repeated, leaning into his embrace. “And I already wanted you. Before I’d even seen you.” You stumbled over your words but felt a surge of confidence when you felt him draw in a sharp breath. “And now I can’t stop looking at you. Because you already had me with your flirting.” You reached out and placed your hand on his thigh and squeezed, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “But Din, I am so turned on. I know we just met, officially, but—“

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured, wrapping his free arm around your waist. “I’ve been hard since you told me to lie down in your lap.”

Your gaze shot down to his pants, but you couldn’t see any proof. 

“These pants don’t show it. But believe me,” he lifted your hand from his thigh and placed it over his hard length. Your eyes widened. “I want you. Badly.”

“Din,” you breathed. You looked back up at him and squeezed his cock, and watched a shiver travel across his shoulders. 

“How dark is your bedroom?” He asked suddenly. 

“Very,” you said, a bit confused. “I have those curtains that block out the light, helps me sleep.”

“Perfect,” he replied, and tugged you up off the couch. “Come here, mesh’la.” He grabbed something from the pile of his things on the coffee table and led you towards your bedroom after you pointed it out.

Once inside, he moved towards the windows and closed the curtains. The room immediately darkened. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking around the room, and nodded.

“Good,” he said, and you stepped closer.

“Good for what?” 

Din held up his hand and you realized he was holding a length of black cloth. “It’s dark enough in here. But just to be sure… if you, would you wear this?” 

Suddenly you realized the reason why he was doing all of this and your entire body lit up in response. “Your helmet?” you asked, eyes wide.

He nodded. “Will you?” He held what you recognized as a blindfold towards you, and you nodded before he’d even finished speaking.

“Of course,” you said, stepping closer. “Din, I promise, I won’t look. But yes, I’ll wear it.”

You saw some of the tension fade from his shoulders and smiled. He took you gently by the shoulders and turned you around. “Thank you,” he murmured as he lifted the blindfold into place. He tied it tightly, but not too tight. “How’s that?” You felt air on your face and wondered if he was waving his hand in front of your eyes.

“I can’t see anything,” you confirmed. You reached back, trying to find him, and he caught your hand. “I promise.”

He turned you back around slowly and suddenly you were pressed up against his chest with his hand on your back. “I believe you. I trust you.”

You thought of the way he had fallen asleep so easily in your presence and smiled. “What now, Din?”

You heard a hissing noise and then a large thump and realized he must have removed his helmet. The sound of his voice confirmed it. “Now, cyar’ika,” he said, and you shivered when you felt his breath on your face, “I’m going to kiss you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, yes, and maybe please, but you never got the words out. His lips met yours and every other thought flew out of your head. You could tell he was somewhat new to this – that wasn’t surprising, considering what he’d told you about his helmet – but he learned quickly and you barely noticed any awkwardness. You lost yourself in his kiss, in his arms, in the darkness of your blindfold. 

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, you moaned, and his answering moan made you feel lightheaded. He broke away suddenly to press kisses down your neck and you sighed. “Din,” you said, and realized your hands were tangled in his hair. His hair. “That feels so good.”

“Does it?” He murmured, and you could hear his smirk. “Tell me, cyar’ika.”

You pushed yourself closer until you were pressed fully against him. “Yes, Din. Can we– can you–” you weren’t sure what you were asking, and he interrupted you with a nibble at your neck.

“We can do whatever you want,” he promised, voice low. “What do you want, mesh’la?”

That word, the new one, finally snagged at your attention. “What’s that mean?”

He lifted his head and pressed his smile to your cheek. It made you smile back. “That’s what you want? To know that?”

You nodded. “Please. And then I want you to make me come.”

Din growled and tugged you in the direction you were pretty sure led to your bed. “Beautiful,” he said, voice intent. “It means beautiful. Because you are.” He tugged you downwards and you realized he was sitting on the bed. You settled into position straddling his lap and ground your hips down. His answering moan was very gratifying. “Let me make you feel good.”

He had one arm around your back, and you felt his other hand trail along the waistband of your pants. You tilted your hips forward to encourage him. He undid them deftly and you sighed when his large fingers slid inside your underwear.

He teased you, and you knew he could feel how wet you were without even pressing inside.

“Did I turn you on, cyar’ika?” He pressed his lips to your ear and you shivered at how deep his voice was. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, Din,” you said, and before you could say anything else his fingers parted your folds and slipped inside. 

“So wet,” he said, voice awed. “And all for me, hmm?” His fingers found your clit and circled it and you gasped. He swallowed it with a kiss. 

You broke away on a gasp when he replaced his fingers with his thumb and trailed through your wetness to circle your entrance with his fingertips. “Din,” you said, pleading.

“Is this what you want, mesh’la?” You nodded and he nipped at your neck below your ear. “I thought about this,” he said, lips brushing against your ear as he slid his fingers inside you. “Thought about this when you talked to me, when I pictured you covered in more paint than clothes.” He curled his fingers forward and you moaned. “Thought about this when you made me smile, when you said you think about me.”

“I do, Din,” you said, voice unsteady. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ground down on his fingers. “I thought about this, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and you nodded against his neck. “My fingers?”

“Yes,” you said, building up a rhythm with your hips. “And your cock. And your tongue.”

Din let out a noise you could only classify as a whine and it sent sparks shooting up your spine. “You want that? My mouth on you?” You nodded, almost frantically, and he shuddered. “I want that too. You have no idea how much.”

You could feel it building inside of you and you buried your face in his shoulder. You marveled at feeling so much of his skin as you did. 

“I think you’re close, cyar’ika,” he murmured between kisses on your neck. “You’re squeezing me.” His thumb started to move faster and you knew you were about to fall over the edge. “Come for me, beautiful. I want to feel it.”

You did, with his fingers thrusting in and out of you and his arm holding you tight in his lap. You cried out his name as you fell and shuddered at the sparks flying through your body. The pleasure washed over you like a wave, head to toe.

When you came back to yourself, you were on your back on the mattress with Din’s body pressing you down. 

“You with me?” he asked, and you nodded. “Good. Cyar’ika, I want to fuck you.”

Your head swam at his words, and you nodded again.

“Let me hear your voice,” he murmured, and kissed you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me, Din,” you said, and felt it when he smiled into a kiss. “I’ve wanted it, badly.”

“Me too,” he promised, and lifted off of you to remove his flight suit. When he pressed back down and you felt his skin on yours your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Dank farrik,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re so soft.” He rubbed his body against yours and you gasped at the sensations he sent through you. His hard cock was trapped between your stomachs and you lifted your hips, wrapping your legs around him, trying to change the angle. 

Din tilted his hips and suddenly his cock was nestled against you, and you gasped. “You feel so kriffing good,” he moaned, and you nodded.

“You too, Din,” you cut off on a gasp when the head of his cock nudged your clit. “Please fuck me.” 

Din huffed a laugh, and murmured, “so polite.”

You smacked him lightly on his very shapely ass, and then paused to fondle it. He laughed again and you grinned into his neck. “Is there something wrong with polite?”

Din nudged at your cheek until you turned into a searing kiss. “No,” he finally replied, lifting his hips and reaching down to move his cock right where you wanted it. “Just makes me want to give you what you want. Even more.” The head of his cock pressed against your entrance and you sighed. “I’ve thought about this so many times, almost since the beginning.” He started pushing inside and you tangled your fingers in his hair. You were panting. He was big. “And then I saw you, and you were flirting with me, and I couldn’t,” he pulled out slightly and thrust forward again, “stop,” he did it again, farther in this time, “thinking about it.” He pushed steadily forward until his hips met yours and you both moaned.

“Me neither,” you said, turning your head and nipping at his ear. He moaned again. “So much, Din.” He shuddered as he pulled out and thrust forward again, and you lifted your hips to meet him.

He found a steady rhythm that sent sparks up and down your spine, building you up and sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your mind was spinning with pleasure and a bit of awe that you were finally there, that Din was inside you, like you’d been hoping for. Like you’d been craving.

Din leaned his weight onto his left arm and snaked his right hand between your bodies until he found your clit. When he circled it with his finger you almost sobbed.

“I want to feel you come again, mesh’la.” Din’s voice was rough with his own pleasure and it made yours shoot higher. “Squeeze me tight. Dank farrik.” His chest heaved when you did as he asked and squeezed. “Let me feel it. Come for me.”

He thrust forward again and circled your clit just right and you fell off the edge again, but this time it felt like you were flying. You spiraled upwards on the wave of pleasure and when it crashed down again it flowed over your entire body, leaving tingles in its wake.

You squeezed his cock and he moaned into your ear. “You feel so good when you come, kriff, your pussy feels so good.” His hips thrust forward again, losing their rhythm, and you knew he was close. You tugged at his hair until your mouth hovered over his.

“Din,” you said, and kissed him. “Come inside me.”

He moaned and he did, thrusting twice more before stilling and moaning your name. When he collapsed on top of you you wrapped your arms and legs around him and sighed.

“Kark,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your neck and throat. “That was so good.”

You laughed, and gasped when he laughed too and you felt it against your chest. “It was, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “You know, I like this relaxation thing.” You laughed and squeezed him. He grunted. “I have another confession.”

“Uh oh,” you teased. “Is this the last one?”

Din pushed himself up until he was leaning on his left arm again and kissed you softly. “I promise. After this it’s just getting to know each other more.” He kissed you again. “But I need to tell you. I didn’t just run because you’re beautiful.” another kiss. “Even though you are and that was part of it.” A longer kiss this time followed by a nip to your bottom lip. You smiled. “But I also saw you, and all of these feelings I’d been putting off and denying came rushing up and I couldn’t deny them anymore. I think I was afraid, since we’d never met, never seen each other.”

You nodded. You knew that feeling.

“It was all real, suddenly, and I wasn’t ready for that.” He nudged at your nose with his and hummed.

You kissed him. “But you’re ready now?”

“I am,” he said, voice firm and warm. “I want you. I want this. I want to figure it out.”

You grinned. “Me too, Din.”

“Good.”

…

“W-well, st-statistically speaking,” You smirked at the sound of his voice being a little higher than usual as you set another deliberately sensuous pace. “H-Human male anatomy follows a no-normal distribution curve---!” Ryland nearly yelped at the sensation of your walls tightening around his hard cock, pressing into places he wanted to memorize. You can’t help but smile breathlessly as his hands come to rest on your hips, helping ease you into a more leveraged position, feeling the tangled entrapment of your thigh muscles spasming. 

“T-technically, someone has-has to occupy the upper percentiles… It’s just…” He drew a deep breath in and fluttered his eyelids open to make eye contact with you when you swirled your hips once again, the friction almost too much for him to handle. “Probability, really.”

Ryland managed to growl out those last two words as his hands loosened enough to allow you to continue bouncing as you scientific compliment came rushing in and out of his brain, trying to cope as it mixed tediously with the pleasure running through his entire body. “B-but um…” He added, fingers digging into the fleshy skin that rested right above your hipbones and helped lead you into a better rhythm.

“T-thank you. I-I think?” He was not thinking, in fact. How was he supposed to when you were… Well, doing what you were doing?!

A gasp escaped your mouth as Ryland’s hips came to meet yours half way, the head of his cock pressing against the spongy part inside of you that made stars blister momentarily behind your eyes as you tossed your head back with a moan that sounded suspiciously like his name. “J-Just making an observation.”

“Yo-you’d be a great scientist.” The blonde man let out a shaky laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as you captivated his gaze, hands daring enough now to come up along the scape of your curves to grasp your chest. “I-I suppose it’s one variable th-that’s working in my favor.”

“I think i-it’s working more in mine.” Your voice was nothing more than a low purr.  

Something about that caused Ryland to snap, and within moments, your back was against the bed and he was perfectly slotted between your open legs, your feet tucking into the fleshier nature of his lower back. He guided himself, eyes locked between your bodies and watching the stretch his cock gave you. The analytical scientist gave way to the man who was clearly pleased by your compliment even if he didn't know quite how to handle it. You lifted your hips up slightly to give way to a different angle, the slow drag of Ryland’s cock against your inner walls making you both gasp as he sunk back into you to the hilt. 

The room was nothing more than a hazy mess with cigarette smoke clinging to the open air and the dim glow of a single lamp on your lover’s bedside table. He was above you, his usually clumsy grace replaced by a focused intensity as he shoved your leg up, relishing in the sensation of your other wrapped lazily around his narrow waist. Holland’s hand grasped at the muscle of your calf, pulling you infinitely closer with each thrust of his hips, his breathing coming in ragged pants as his pink lips planted a heated, saliva stricken kiss to your leg.

You were completely lost in the sensation of his cock relentlessly pounding into you until you felt him shift, the mattress rippling as a new angle was introduced, the head of his shaft now hitting a spot that made you thrash your head back. 

“Fuck, Holland!” You moaned, one of your hands coming to grasp at his wrist, fingernails digging slightly into the skin there. He hissed into the moan that left his smirked mouth. “R-right there.”

“You like that, baby?” He responded with a guttural sound, picking up the pace and driving into you with what felt like a renewed purpose. You were getting close, your entire body was shouting at you. The tension in your stomach, your leg tensing around his waist and urging him even closer, your walls tightening around him to the point where Holland had the feeling you were going to milk him for all he was worth. More than okay in his book. “O-Oh, you r-really like that.”

“G-God, you’re so deep.” You squeezed your eyes shut and chomped onto your bottom lip, but that was pointless as another groan tore through the air. Irrationality was winning, as it so often did in the throes of pleasure. “You’re so fucking big, Holland.”

The blonde above you seemed to catch for a moment at that, a slower reluctance being placed into his thrusts as his breath caught in the hollow of his throat in a sickeningly sensual way for your eyes to feast on. You can feel his cock twitch inside if you, he must have been replaying your words again and again as a stuttery laugh escaped his lips, his upper half careening down so he could place a messy kiss to your mouth. 

“Jesus,” He murmured against your lips, tongue pressing against yours for a moment. “Y-You can’t just say…. Shit like that when I’m trying to concentrate.”

Holland let your leg go, instinct taking over and within moments, it joined your other around his slim hips, his forearms coming to trap you to the bed as his cock grinded into you. You moaned, “W-why not…? It’s true.”

His rhythm faltered the second you tightened around him intentionally, bringing your hips up to meet his before Holland found the willpower in himself to proceed. Deeper, harder this time. He needed you to cum on his cock. “B-because it makes me want to…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into nothingness as you clenched around him again. 

“To what?” You teased despite your tone being incredibly breathless. 

“T…To fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” Holland forced himself to finish a coherent statement, dark, pupil blow eyes meeting yours in a heated frenzy. “Make you feel every,” He deliberately grinded his cock as hard as he could inside of you, “Inch.” He did it again, the compliment clearly going to his head and there was now a set pace as Holland was determined to prove your words right, over and over again.

Lars was always so careful with you, as if you were something too precious for this world that might break if he wasn’t paying enough attention. And as he shifted his hips, pressing into your warmth, earning himself a soft gasp from your lips, nothing screamed as aggressive or overdone. It was just you and your boyfriend, the evening light filtering through the curtains of his bedroom to cast warm glows to juxtapose against the Winter air outside as his cock stretched you in an almost overwhelmingly absurd way.

Your inner walls fluttered, spasming around his girth as he settled a bit more between your legs, letting them case around his larger body and easing his chest against yours as the dark blonde let a whimper leave his parted lips.

“L-Lars.” You whispered, your hand coming up to cup the side of his face, his eyes squeezed shut in focus as he himself was in an adjustment period. Common for him, you let Lars work it out the way he needed as you traced your thumb along his cheekbone. He couldn’t handle those dual sensations and a moment later, his head collapsed into the crevice of your neck as he gave an exploratory shuffle of his hips a few centimeters out before plunging back into you. 

“T-That feels really good.” You moaned softly into his ear causing a shiver to blister down his spine. 

“I like… I like when you ma-make those sounds…” He admitted, his voice strained and barely a notch above rationality. “It’s… It’s really nice…”

A smile tugs onto your face slowly as you tuck your fingers into his thick hair, seeking to motivate and calm him down from the prospect of overstimulation. “I like making those sounds for you…”

Lars’s cock twitched at that, the motion so minute but you could feel it inside of you as you shifted just a bit beneath him, readjusting on the pillow so you could look up at him properly when he pulled his head back. “A-And I like the way you feel around me…” His blue eyes drifted along your expression before they locked onto your lips as a sole point of concentration. “It’s… Tight but in a good way… A really… Good way…”

Your boyfriend's words made you clench around his heavy cock, causing him to gasp out, his eyes widening at the new sensation. “Oh-oh, that’s… That’s something…”

You nod in agreement as a blush overcomes your entire being, urging him down so you could place a gentle kiss to his lips. He had been asking silently by staring at your mouth, a whisperless thanks being given as his moustache tickled you as you muttered, “Y-you’re bigger than I expected.” There was that breathless laugh of yours that Lars thought was so cute. “Y-You feel so good in me.”

And for a moment, the man above you didn't respond. There was no motion from him until you felt the sting of a very deliberate drag of his cock against your walls that made you tremble. He pulled back from your neck, your skin immediately missing the heated sensation of his breath against it, Lars’s brows furrowed in minor confusion. 

“R-really?” He asked, and there’s something so genuinely surprised in his tone that it made your heart ache a little as you brushed your fingers through his hair as your words settled into the air and into his mind. Something shifted in Lars’s expression. The shock of your compliment slowly melted into something warmer, more confident. A shy smile tugged at the corner of his plush lips, his mustache lifting with it.

"I-I’ve never really… thought about it like… that…” Lars trailed off, his cheeks flushing a deep red against his pale skin, only minorly disrupted by his facial stubble as he inched out of you before sinking back in as far as he could reach.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, pressing your taut chest against his as you let a low moan out. “Is… Is this okay?” Lars asked after a few moments, repeating his thrusting motion that sprinkled the best sensation along your core. “I do-don’t want to hurt you…” His voice was straining to keep itself contained and not delve too far into the pleasure. Yet. He would once he knew you were good to go. 

You nodded wordlessly, your mouth slightly agape as you sucked a breath in as Lars shuffled his hips against yours. “Y-You’re perfect, Lars.”

The cheap mattress of Colt’s trailer bed dipped beneath your knees, the worn sheets cool and contrasted against your palms, stark compared to the heat of the desert outside. Being on all fours was common now, it’s what the blonde stuntman liked as you arched your back to display the fleshy bounce of your ass for his hungry eyes.

His cock was so hard it felt like one little bit of attention made to it was going to make him cum as he positioned himself at your entrance, a small hiss leaving his mouth as he gripped his needy hard-on with one calloused hand, the other grasping with a possessive strength at your hip to get you in the most optimal angle. You were surely going to have bruises there in the morning, but it was all worth it. “Ready?” Colt asked, his voice low and rough, incredibly different from the charming demeanor he showed the film crew when performing stunts. 

You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat aggressively as he pushed in, painfully slow. The head of his cock disappeared as you were given time to adjust to the stretch. Even after all this time, the initial penetration was enough to make you go crazy, your head dipping as you urged your body not to shake prematurely as your toes curled. Colt watched his cock bury itself so deep inside of you that he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than that point of primal contact.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” You gasped as air finally met your lungs again, his cock filling you up completely, his taut hips pressing against your ass and conforming against him like a puzzle piece. “Y-you're so big.”

“What was that?” His hands tightened on your hips, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Your cock.” You clarified with a huff, pushing back against him and causing the large man to stumble a bit before he regained composure. “It f-feels even bigger in this position. Like I-I’m being split in half.”

What a visual. Colt responded with a low chuckle as he began to move. It was slow at first, too slow for your liking as you grasped at the sheets with a tiny moan before it increased into a set rhythm. Enough to get you both going for now, but not enough to cause anything to be over too soon. If there was one thing Colt was good at, it was teetering on that very line.

“Yeah?” He grunted, a hand coming down to grasp at your ass and urge you to grind into him as the other wrapped delicately around your neck to keep you arched instead of letting your body falter. “Tell me more, baby.”

“So thick.” You moaned hoarsely as Colt picked up pace, jutting his cock into you as best he could, the sound of skin slapping skin seeping into the air of the small trailer, the controlled movements he was known for giving way to something far more urgent. The bed groaned loud under your combined weights as Colt drove into you, your body reacting as best it could as you met him thrust for thrust, pushing back to take him deeper as his long fingers exploded against your neck and held you. You needed every inch of him, and he had to know.

“I-I’m going to cum a-all over y-your big cock, Colt. Fuc… Fuck… don’t stop.”

Colt's rhythm faltered for a moment as he processed your words. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice strained. "You say things like that and I'm not going to last."

"Don't last then," you challenged, looking back at him over your shoulder. "Just fill me up and show me what a stuntman can really do."

Lazy mornings seemed rare with your lover. Even more so when he came home at the early hours of the morning, unexplained but always willing to tug himself into your bed with the favor of stress release. And this early Tuesday morning was no different, the predawn light filtering through the small blinds of your apartment, casting faint, gray stripes across the rumble sheets that were close to being discarded.

The air was cool on your exposed skin, raising goosebumps and hardening your nipples only to be soothed by the solid wall of heat pressed against your back. Driver was behind you, his chest a firm plane against your shoulder blades, one arm curled possessively around your waist and keeping you against him. His other hand was holding onto the base of his cock, teasing your entrance, urging you to prop your leg up so he could enter.

Not like it was even a question as you did just that, sleep still tugging on your movements as the blonde pushed into you with an inch by inch stroke that made a shudder explode down your spine, felt in Driver’s sternum as he pressed his chest more ardently to your back, lips barely ghosting against the shell of your ear as a silent moan cased there. Driver’s movements were always economical and precise, somewhat tearing more into the idea of performing a function rather than fucking but that’s just how it was.

There was an intensity to him that both thrilled you and unnerved some part of your rationality, but it made you only want him more as he focused behind you, shifting his hips against your ass and pressing deeper. You gasped softly, the hand around your waist dripping between your semi-open legs. 

Driver’s rhythm didn't change at your sound, but his blue eyes which has been closed, fixed on some obscure thought of his nice it was to be with someone like this, opened and slowly came to focus on your face. He watched you, his expression unreadable in the dim light but there was a crack in the facade as you moaned again, his mouth twitching. 

“Mmmmm… Y-You’re always so much bi-bigger than I remember, Driver.” You panted into the air, your voice barely a tangible whisper for him. But, he heard it. And for a moment, nothing changed. He continued his steady, measured pace of railing into you as if he didn't hear your compliment at all. “You feel incredible.” 

That was the nail he needed. You felt it - a subtle shift in his fingertips, the way he moved behind you before giving you a slightly deeper thrust forward. You groaned at that, feeling him stretch you like it was the first time, head tilting to the side. Driver’s gaze met yours immediately and you’re both frantically searching for something. 

“Y-You’re being awfully quiet.” You observed, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face as he thrusted deeper into you, his free hand coming up to grasp your thigh to keep your leg from rebounding and clamping shut. Driver didn't bother responding verbally, but you were in for a treat as he leaned his face in to capture your lips in a tired kiss, languid and bustling with the affection he so often chose to ignore because it was easier in his line of work. His lips brushed against yours before captivating down your jaw to your ear. 

“I’d rather listen to you than listen to me.” He moved behind you once again, the bed frame creaking a bit with that as his cock hit that spot inside of you that made you grasp at the side of his face in desperation, his thrusts becoming that much more purposeful, more attune to your reactions.

The compliment that had gone vaguely unnoticed, at least in your perspective, was driving him crazy to the point where Driver became irrationally focused on your pleasure, determined not to understand every nuance and sensation. He needed this more than he could tell you, so he was going to show you.

“It might be a bit weird to ask you this” you said, trying not to look at him, clearly embarrassed. “But... Uh, just so you can sleep comfortably, I mean, the gear must be uncomfortable and-”

“You know I can't take it off.”

“I know! I know. I would never ask you to do that. That's why- Uhm...”

You took your hands from behind your back, which were holding a black silky piece of material. Din tilted his head, helmet crinkling in the dim light, curiously looking at it, then back at you.

“I thought I could lay with these, just so you wouldn't have to be around with your stupid armor and complain about your back pain” you mumbled, still not looking at him.

He smirked underneath the helmet, and slowly walked towards you until he was almost pressed up against you. “You want to wear a blindfold?”

“It's stupid, leave it-”

“No” he said sternly. “Give it to me.”

You swallowed and handed him the piece of material, feeling the heat prickle in your cheeks. You turned away, waiting for him to put the blindfold on you. He put his arms around your head and put the silky material over your eyes, tying it tightly to your head.

“Can you... Help me to bed?”

Instead of getting an answer, after a few seconds, you felt Din's bare hand caressing your arm, which sent goosebumps all over your body. When you thought he was guiding you to bed, you felt his other hand going around your neck to your cheek, and the warm breeze of his breath on your neck, unconsciously letting out a moan when you felt his lips grazing your skin. You could feel his satisfied smile on your neck, and he finally led you to the bed, letting you sit on it.

“I'll have to help you otherwise by thanking you...” he said tilting your head up with two fingers on your chin. “For thinking about me and my comfort before yours.”

You could feel his lips close to yours as he said those words in a low tone that had heat pooling down your belly. When he let go of your chin, you could hear some rustling around you, and the anticipation of knowing that he was taking his armor off for you was exhilarating.

“Lay down” Din's tone was enough to get you moving without doubt a second thought. “Good girl.”

A small whine escaped your lips, and Din's let out an amused chuckle as he got into the bed. When you felt the bed sink under his weight, you let your hands reach him, the familiar armor out of the way. Your hands touched his arms, chest, neck, stopping in his jaw, thumbs grazing the softness of his parted lips. He got closer, body hovering over yours, parting your legs to rest on his sides. He then brought his face so close to yours that you were able to feel his hot breath mangling with yours.

“DIn” you pleaded. “Please”

“Please, what?”

Not the time to be an asshole. “Please just fucking kiss me” you said with a whine, before he clashed his lips with yours.

Your hands traveled to his hair and tugged, gifting you a moan from his lips. God, that sound was enough to spike your pleasure, making you grind your hips against his, noticing the bulge growing beneath his clothes. He broke the kiss, continuing them across your jaw and stopping in your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you grind your hips again while tugging his hair once more. He let out a breathy moan again, cursing as he sneaked his hands under your clothes, finding your breasts and grazing your hardened nipples. You arched your back in a moan, and he lifted your shirt up to expose your bare chest to him.

He let out another curse as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, making you let out a breathy moan. Taking the other with his free hand, he used his tongue and fingers at the same time, getting you to wrap his body against yours with your legs, grinding on his now fully hard dick. Din took his mouth and hands back, sitting upright with your legs still tightly wrapping his hips.

“Fuck, you don't know how beautiful you look right now” he said between breaths. “These need to come off now”

He tugged at your pants, taking your underwear off too, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air. You instinctively tried to cover yourself and close your legs, but he forced you to open them again.

“Don't you fucking dare.”

His voice was low and demanding, which only made you whine in response. He lowered his mouth again, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your body until he reached your thighs.

“God, you're so fucking wet for me already” he said, wetting his lips. His fingers traced over your thighs, making your skin burn in anticipation. Your senses were heightened and every touch of his fingers, every breath against your skin was sending waves of pleasure through your whole body. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Please, Din- I- I need you to touch me. Please, just-”

Just then, he answered to your demands, licking a long strip across your dripping cunt. Your mouth fell open on a moan, hands flying to his hair, receiving a moan against your wetness in response. He then thrust a finger in you, a loud moan echoing on the room as he stroked you open, a second finger following soon after. Curving his fingers inside you as your back arched while letting out broken breathy moans, he brought his mouth to your clit while stretching you open.

You felt like you were about to burst in flames, that familiar sensation of pleasure coiling in your lower stomach closer and closer.

“Din- Ah... I need to- I'm going to-”

“Cum for me, cyar’ika.”

Those words were all you needed for your orgasm to crash over you like a giant wave, his fingers still travelling in and out of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on them. After that, he took his fingers out of your soaked pussy, glistening in the dim light. He took a look at them before lifting them to his lips and letting his tongue clean his fingers while he groaned.

“You taste so fucking sweet.”

You couldn't help but whine at the comment, imagining him with his fingers on his mouth just reignited the flame in you.

“Now be an obedient good girl and let me fuck you” he said, mouth now inches away from your lips. You took his face in between your hands and kissed him, tongues clashing in passion. He didn't break the kiss while taking his rock hard dick out of his underwear, placing it in your entrance, spreading your folds open and starting to get inside you.

You cursed as he began to push himself inside of your tight pussy, the burning sensation of splitting you open ever so pleasing.

“Fuck. Just a little more” he breathed in your neck as he pushed more and more deep in you, making you feel impossibly full. Your skin finally touched his, letting you know that he was filling you to the brim. “There we go.”

The feeling of being so full was overwhelming, and your ragged breath was making that quite obvious.

“Please... Please move, Din.”

And who was he to deny such a pretty little thing her demands?

He let his dick slip out almost fully, and then slammed it back in, making you scream in pleasure. That was all he needed to start a relentless pace of fucking you, your pretty pussy taking him so well every time. Hearing you moan his name over and over, he knew he wasn't going to last much more longer. His name left your lips like a prayer, as if it was the only thing you knew.

The coiling sensation came back to your stomach, and the erratic pounding of Din's dick in you told you he was close too. He let his open mouth fall over to your neck in a huffed moan, pushing you over the edge while screaming his name. The vice grip of your pussy against his dick was also enough for him to go over his on pleasure, and while he bit down on your neck, you felt the heat of his cum filling you up.

You both stayed close to the other, letting the waves of your orgasms wash over you. He linked your forehead with his, both of your breaths tangling together.

“Dammit” You cursed at the dreaded transmitter that was probably older than you were.

Being a mechanic had its perks, but it truly had its challenges, too. Especially when you’d been assigned long-term work on a ship as old as the Razor Crest. Of course, a perk to that would be traveling with a Mandalorian. It was a rough couple of months getting him just to hold a conversation with you, but almost a year later, you'd never been more connected or closer to anyone else in your whole life. He was undoubtedly your best friend.

“Don’t worry about it. That thing has never worked right” Din said, startling you as he entered the cockpit. He was dismissive of the transmitter, which was all the more reason you wanted to fix it.

Sighing out in frustration, you accepted defeat. For now, anyways.

“I’ll get it figured out eventually” You assured him.

“If you say so" He chuckled softly.

"Are you doubting my capabilities?" You teased him.

"No, I am doubting the probability of that thing ever working again"

"That's fair" You smirked before looking back to your unfinished work.

"How are the engines looking? Are we good to go?" He asked.

"Yep. Everything else is looking good. Are we leaving tonight?"

"I'd like to get a good night's rest first. We can leave in the morning" He confirmed, leaning against the metal siding of the cockpit.

"Sounds good to me" You smiled back softly, subtly admiring his stance beside you.

"I'll probably go to bed soon" Din said, his sleeplessness showing itself in his voice.

A fun idea crept into your mind.

"Why waste such a perfect night to break this baby in?" You giggled as you pulled the bottle of liquor from the cabinet in the cockpit.

"How did you get that?" He said with a head tilt, questioning where and when you had the opportunity to acquire alcohol.

You raised your brows and shrugged your shoulders, "I stole it"

"Well, I assumed that" Din iterated, taking the bottle into his hand and observing the label, "but I am not surprised"

You watched as he looked around, as if trying to find some reason why he shouldn't indulge in some light drinking with his best friend tonight.

"I'll just be drinking all by myself, if you're not joining me" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Fine” He gave in, sitting himself down in the pilot’s seat next to you in the copilot’s seat.

For a little while, you two indulged in the intoxicating effects of the liquor. You knew your limits and so did he. You stopped just before feeling your inhibitions slip away but felt fuzzy enough inside to enjoy the feeling.

Respectfully, you opted to look away whenever he took a sip, so as to not catch a glimpse of even his chin as he tipped the liquor into his mouth. His movements were slow as he set his glass down, and with your peripheral vision, you noted that he was done. With all the time you’d spent around him, you couldn’t actually imagine him actually having a face, he was just a helmet with a gentle voice. But you loved him.

Oh stars, you loved him…

The chances of him feeling the same were slim, but one more sip and you might just tell him.

As you stared at him, you were met with flashbacks of one particular night not too long ago. Din had accidentally walked in on you masturbating, and you didn’t notice he was there until a couple of seconds had passed. He couldn’t make himself look away from you in such a state, but the guilt of unintentionally invading your privacy ate at him every day since. Since that night, things had been a little bit awkward between you two

Not a single word was exchanged between you two, he just slowly walked out. You probably didn’t come out of your room for another day, and even now, you still hadn’t talked about it.

What he didn’t know it was him you were thinking about while you pleasured yourself.

“This stuff is…” You began, holding the bottle out and tilting your gaze at it.

“Strong?” Din finished your sentence.

“Very” you giggled in response.

Din stared at you for what felt like forever, the tension pulling tighter between your gazes. There was something so odd about the way his head pointed in your general direction just gave you butterflies. You wished so desperately to look into his eyes for real.

“I, um” He began, tripping on his own words before his thoughts were fully developed.

“What is it?” You tilted your head.

He paused, and looked at the ground, before turning back to you.

“I need to sleep” He sighed.

“Okay. It just seemed like you were going to say something?”

Please let him say that he loves you too.

“I don’t think I’ve drank enough to say it”

“Maybe I have” You pondered. It spilled off your tongue like honey, “I'm in love with you"

Okay where the fuck did that confidence come from?

He was still. More still than usual, if that were even possible. The thumping of your heart against the restraints of your chest rang terribly loud in your ears. If he’d said anything in the seconds that followed, you wouldn’t have even heard it. Any attempt to read his emotions was blocked by the shining reflection of his visor.

But he was silent, and you could only guess why…he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“I’m..” He tried to begin, but fell short of his words.

“Don’t” You began as mortification consumed you, “don’t say anything”

He remained stoic, and painfully quiet. Providing no goodbye or goodnight, you got up and made your way to your quarters on the Crest. Din didn’t stop you. He didn’t flinch, in fact, he barely breathed.

The frigid metal against your arms shot chills down your spine as you leaned against the door you had just closed behind you to your room.

The distant sounds of his footsteps carrying across the ship, led right to your door very shortly after you stormed off.

"Y/N" His soft, modulated voice rang the other side of the door, following a gentle knock.

What do you even say to him now that you've confessed something so bold to someone you're in such close proximity to all the time?

You slowly pulled the door open and were met with Din’s towering figure.

"I'm in love with you, too" He admitted quickly.

Now you found that it was you whose words were failing them. A choked breath hitched in your throat as you processed what he said.

"Y-you do?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"Yes. I did not know what to say before. I wasn't expecting you to say that" He said softly, his tone growing timid.

You stepped back and let him enter your crowded quarters, which truly was only enough space for your small bed and a cabinet. The forced proximity to him heightened the tension even further. You sat on the edge of your bed, and he mirrored you, finding only inches of space next to you.

"I want to kiss you" You blurted softly.

"I want to kiss you too, Y/N. I'm sorry I can't" He responded, cautiously placing his hand on your knee.

"I know what you can do" You suggested.

Your trembling fingers wrapped around the gloved material of his hand and guided it in between your legs. There was no resistance from either of you, but you sensed his nerves as well as your own.

The shifting of your hips told him you wanted him to move. He rubbed against your aching and sensitive bud through the rough of your pants. You wanted him bare against your skin, but you knew this needed to be slow.

Too shy to just let him watch the look of pleasure upon your face, you buried your head into his shoulder while he rubbed your clit. He groaned as you let a faint whimper escape you…a sound he’d only dreamed of hearing before.

"Are you sure?" He begged for reassurance.

"Are you?" You countered him.

“Yes” He assured with no hesitation, like he’d been waiting for you for years.

“I’ve never done this before” You muttered lowly, ashamed to admit it, but knowing it was necessary for him to be aware that you were a virgin.

“Ever?” He leaned back.

You shook your head in confirmation.

Din froze in his tracks, halting his rhythmic motions at your core. You worried he wouldn’t want to be your first. You worried it would be too much pressure for him to make it special for you.

He pulled away completely.

Something you’d never seen him do before caught your immediate attention. Slowly, his fingers curled underneath the bottom edge of his helmet and lifted it from his head. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Din what are y-”

You couldn’t even remember to breathe as his face came to view. His brown hair lay so perfectly pressed to his head, restricted for so long by the constraints of his mask. He wasn't a stranger. This wasn't unfamiliar. It was him.

And he was beautiful.

His creed meant nothing to him in that moment…the moment he finally was able to stare into your eyes for real. Nothing mattered to him except you. A lump grew quickly in your throat, and you welcomed it as a tear fell from your eye.

"You deserve for this to be special, Y/N. You deserve to look into the eyes of the man who loves you"

The rapid fire of your beating heart skipped over itself. His voice was smooth and raw...and scared. His entire life has been spent hiding away from everyone he has ever cared about behind that helmet. But now...he truly sees you.

"Din" You breathed.

The second that his lips brushed against yours, the world around you fell silent. Fingertips trailed along your jaw before moving to wrap themselves in your hair. Din was delicate and careful. He worried he'd break you if he didn't control his desire that had pent itself up for months of being near you.

You were tremendously overwhelmed with surprise and butterflies, which fueled your hunger for him as he found familiarity in your lips, and pressed harder into the kiss. His trembling hand returned in between your legs, applying pressure against your clit through your pants.

Din was no stranger to sex, but he was a stranger to your body, and a stranger to loving you in the way he was always aching to.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N” Din whispered against your lips.

He motioned for you to lie back, and guided you with his arm pressed gently into the curve of your back. You fiddled with the clasp of your pants, but his hand replaced your own and successfully unfastened it. You worked to remove them, but Din helped you peel them down your legs.

Nothing could have pulled your admirable gaze away from him. There were no words to describe how beautiful he was. Din hovered above you, staring right back in disbelief of having you beneath him like this. Your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, your palm finally resting against the scruff of his cheek. His eyes fell shut, being so touch-starved that he melted in your grasp.

Din knew that he wanted to stay like this forever, but he also knew how badly he needed to be inside you. As he stood to his feet and removed his armor, revealing the soft material beneath it that clung to his skin, your thighs clenched together in anticipation. With his continued help, he carefully lifted your shirt above your head, revealing you wore nothing beneath it. The guttural moan that grazed your ear when he saw your breasts sent a wave of heat between your legs.

His finger looped around the hem of your panties and awaited your confirmation before eagerly removing them.

You were nervous. Stars you were so nervous. Somehow you found comfort in studying his face, watching his reaction to seeing your exposed body on display for him.

Your lips intertwined again. The supple caress of his hand traveling up your thigh sent chills down your spine. It only took one light touch against your folds for him to feel how bad you wanted him. Suddenly you felt one finger slide inside of you.

He broke away from devouring your lips, “Is this okay?”

“Yes” You breathed.

What he did with his fingers felt beyond anything you’d ever done to yourself. He curled his finger as he pumped it in and out of you, savoring the sound of your slickness wrapped around his digits. You grinded against his hand, signaling him to move faster.

Din watched you, enamored with your expression and how you melted for him just by the touch of his hand. Stars began forming in your eyes as the haze of your orgasm crept up slowly. Din felt the walls of your cunt tightening slightly as he went faster.

“It feels so good, Din, please don’t stop”

And he didn’t stop. Stars, he’d do anything you asked of him. Especially now.

With the arching of your back, Din knew you’d reached your release. You cried out for him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck, shutting your eyes tight, overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

“Look at me, cyar’ika” He instructed. Your eyes flew up to stare deep into his beautiful brown eyes.

Your release overtook your entire body, sending a heated flash of vibration across your skin, tingling and centering at the thrusts of his fingers.

“There you go sweetheart, you’re doing so good” He praised.

You rode out your high as he talked you through it. Unable to fathom the total ecstasy you were feeling. Your breathing was heavy as you floated back down, and you then realized how tightly your hands were gripping his body. As you flashed him a smile, he softly smiled back, his eyes scanning your body and face.

As you reached for his pants, he hurriedly removed his shirt followed by his pants, now leaving him completely bare for you too. You stared at his cock, impressed by his size, and clenched your cunt around nothing as your body begged for him.

You spread your legs for him, as his hips situated themselves to fit perfectly between them.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. Just then, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, before he finally buried himself completely inside of you. A whimper of slight discomfort escaped you, and Din planted a soft kiss upon your open mouth to soothe you. You were so tightly wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Din.

Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to relax. A lustful whimper fell from your lips, showing Din that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts found perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to moan softly with you. 

Your eyes meet and lock on each other while he continues to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Din” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, and your skin burned with such a wonderful fire. You were sure that you’d never get enough of his lips against yours.

“You are so beautiful, cyar’ika” He whispered, his hand traveling down between your breasts, familiarizing himself with the feeling of your skin against his. Taking one of your breasts into his hand, he squeezed it gently.

“Harder” You begged him. He looked at you with uncertainty, but wouldn’t dare deny you.

He began fucking you faster, now. As his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips, your moans grew louder and more intense. Din loved every sound you made. He was quieter than you, but his whimpering was music to your ears.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer” He faltered in his thrusts as he got close to his release.

You nodded and pulled his face into yours, kissing him hard. Your lips against his pushed him over the edge. His fist gripped the sheets as he came, his moans deeper and louder than before.

“Fuck, Y/N” He cried out.

The warmth of his release coated your walls, and you cherished the feeling of truly being filled by him. All of him.

The room was filled with only the sound of your beating hearts and the gradual rate of your breathing coming down to normal. Din was careful when he removed himself from you, and the second he did, you already missed feeling him so close. He lay next to you, your warm bodies still pressed close to each other. The silence between you spoke louder than any words you could manage to speak.

“Are you okay?” He asked while caressing your cheek.

You smiled warmly at him. There was a soreness you felt inside, but it was a sensation you welcomed if it meant that Din was the one to take your virginity.

“I’m more than okay” You assured him, “that was everything I ever hoped it would be”

“I love you, Y/N” He said sweetly, warming your soul as he said it.

“I love you, too”

———————

the weather on lah’mu was unpredictable. most of the time it was some sort of foggy overcast, which you didn’t mind— helped with your moisture farming. it helped keep your crops healthy, and that in turn helped you earn credits.

there was the occasional cold snap— the ground would frost over, the lakes, the cattle would die. you couldn’t count on both your hands how many times one of your orbak’s had died in the cold overnight. then the summer would roll around, more sunshine, less damp, happier cattle. simple.

that was until about 3 days ago.

you’d been out harvesting vegetables from your crops not far from your home, when you’d met him. you heard his footsteps against the damp ground before you actually saw him. you dropped what crops were in your hands into a crate and hovered your dominant hand over your blaster holstered at your side.

he was tall, broad, and incredibly metallic. he broke the silence first— “hello.” he had said. a crackle running through the modulator in his helmet. you recognised the composition of his armour, beskar no doubt, and it was clear he was a mandalorian. what is he doing out here? you wondered.

“can i help you?” you replied. water droplets rolled down your outer coat and your cold, flushed cheeks.

“i’m looking for shelter. my ship is in need of repair and as far as i can tell the nearest town is at least a days journey from here.” his voice is clear, confident.

“you’d be right. there’s a few outposts— trading, medical, what not. you’re not gonna find someone to fix it there.” you rambled, picking up the crate that lay next to your feet and taking a few steps closer to him.

“i might be able to help. i know a thing or two about mechanics.” you continued.

his helmet tilted in relief (you had assumed). “great.” he said. “i’m willing to pay in exchange for your assistance.”

“you any good at gathering, forging and harvesting?” you asked. you did need help getting the rest of your crops ready and its produce out to the surrounding inhabitants.

he nodded in silent reply.

“good. come on in and i can get you settled.” you turned back towards the house, carrying the crate with vegetables on your hip.

the door opened with a soft hiss, the warmth from inside contrasting the cold breeze from outside. there was a warm glow inside your home. no large overhead lights, but lots of smaller lamps. mando took note of the way your coat hang over a bucket to collect the rainwater that still was clung to its fabric. your home was spacious, but cozy. you walked toward the kitchen area and placed the crate into the sink, then back towards him.

“i have a spare room, it’s not large but it should keep you comfortable.” your gaze fell behind him. a small metal cradle followed his every step.

he followed your eye-line, slightly tensing. the cradle opened to reveal the child. small, asleep, and peaceful. you turned your face back to the mandalorian and smiled. “i wasn’t expecting a baby as well.”

“he’s older than me.” he informs. you chuckle and lead him to the room at the end of the hall. the door opens with another soft hiss, and mando is pleasantly surprised. the room has a large bed, dresser, mirror and sink, and a small window closer towards the ceiling. there’s a small lamp beside the bed that is giving off a warm orange hue. he steps inside and looks over the room in more detail. it’s much nicer than the hostels he's accustomed to and winds up in most nights when the razor crest is having some sort of repairs done. it feels like a home.

"bathroom is down the hall, next to my room. you're welcome to use anything you need, so is the little guy."

"well, that's bound to happen." he chuckles softly. "thank you." he holds out his hand for you to shake. you willingly accept with a warm smile.

"why don't you show me your ship, and i can start to get my head around what needs looking at?" you turn your body towards the 'common area' of your home. there's a curved couch off to the side, surrounded by several crates used for storage and some others with crops, tools, and one with just blankets, etc. you step back toward the door and pick up your tool box on the way out, reaching up for your coat on the hook.

"sure. sooner you start, the sooner I'll be out of your way." he follows behind you closely. the cradle stays stationary in his the room.

you nod. he leads you a little ways away from your fields to where the razor crest sits upon the black soil. it's not the most glamorous ship you've ever seen, but your breath is still taken away by it. it's old, like most of the ships you see in and out of the outposts regularly. a thin coat of dust from the soil coats the bottom of the ship, while the rain drips slowly off of the top. he walks ahead of you again and the ramp descends. the first thing that catches your attention in the cargo hold of his ship is the several bodies that hang, frozen in carbonite. a bounty hunter, you think to yourself- making a mental note. as you take in more of the ship, there's various metal chests and crates, a small armoury, and a cot off to the side. considerably smaller than the bed you've provided for him.

"what seems to be acting up?" you ask as you continue to walk further into the ship.

"my stabilisers gave out on entry, the hyperdrive also has been having some hiccups. I can't fly in realspace, it's too dangerous." his voice laced in frustration. understandable.

you hum in reply. "bounty hunter, I assume?" you question simply. his helmet tilts towards you. "yeah" he nods & says after a pause, "that a problem?" he presses.

"no." you smile slightly. he nods again. "good." his voice is flat. he leads you to the hyperdrive, and you kneel down to get a closer look. it's steaming and giving off heat. you mentally curse. it's not going to be a particularly easy job, AND the stabilisers need work too. you didn't realise you had actually sighed until the mandalorian shifts his weight behind you and finally sighs out, "how bad is it?"

you take a moment to do the mental math, "it could take a few weeks, at least.. the hyperdrive is too hot right now to do anything to it- but giving off steam isn't a good sign. the only comfort I get from looking at it is that it's still bright, if the light was dimmed or flickering then that would be symptom of a bigger problem. what's up with the stabilisers again?" you rise up to his level again, not realising how close your bodies are until he speaks again.

"they gave out, mostly the rear ones. makes it pretty hard to see how to land since the nose rises. it's choppy but not unbearable." he shifts again.

you nod. more mental math going on in your head. "when are you hoping to get off planet?— soon, with the bounties, I assume you have a time period?" you question, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I don't have to be back to deliver for a while. my employer knows I have the bounties in carbonite. not like they're going anywhere." his voice is steady. he tilts his head down slightly to see your face fully. you're suddenly aware of the proximity of your bodies. you can almost hear his steady breaths from underneath the helmet.

you nod again, squeezing past him and back into the cargo hold. "I can get started straight away, if you want. a few hours of daylight left. I prefer not to work in the dark."

"okay." he moves past you and down the ramp. you watch as he disappears around the corner of the ship and out of sight before you place your tool box down and crack it open, gathering what tools you'll need. you strip yourself of your raincoat and lay it on the ramp, not wanting to get any rain water on the floors. you get to work quickly on the stabilisers, locating the door panel for the side door and opening it in hopes that it'll help the hyperdrive cool down quicker. you start compiling a inventory of spare parts you may need- but ultimately decide to come back to that when you start on the hyperdrive. the stabilisers are an easy fix. a lot of the time they start to act up because they're out of alignment, easily done if you’re regularly getting yourself into dogfights, hard landings, and climbing too quickly from initial takeoff— the stabilisers get confused because of the speed of climb combined with your low altitude. you make easy work of it, tightening a few bolts and carefully aligning the pieces back together. the rain starts up again, the soft pitter patter being heard from the rain hitting the top of the ship. you easily swing into work, completely focused.

as the daylight starts to slowly fade into evening dark, you gather your tools again and walk back to the hyperdrive to check on the temperature. it's cooling down, slowly but surely. you decide to pick that job back up in the morning. you close the side door before making your way down the back ramp. tool box in hand, you make your way back to the house.

the clang of your tool box being dropped a little too carelessly startles the mandalorian, he turns towards the door with the cradle now next to him as he sits on the couch.

"stabilisers are fixed, the hyperdrive is still too hot to do anything. hopefully the rain will cool down the ship and the hyperdrive and I'll pick it up tomorrow." you ramble, taking off your boots and raincoat, leaving them in their designated places by the door.

"thank you." he says. the cradle is empty, and you spot the small green creature sat on the other side of the couch with a small metal ball in his hands. you smile.

"you hungry?" you pace to the kitchen.

"sure. the little one needs to eat, too." he pushes the cradle away and stands.

"I've got pog soup. just needs to reheat." you pull the large pot onto your stove, setting the heat to low so it simmers.

the mandalorian perks up. he can't remember the last time he had something so traditional. a common meal on mandalore.

you walk back past the couch and towards the fresher. "I'm gonna freshen up, heat is on low so if it start's bubbling over, just turn it off." he nods and follows your frame. once you disappear into the fresher and the door locks, he looks around the room. various lamps start to turn on the darker it gets outside, a soft warm hue all over. there's several crates scattered over the room. harvested crops sitting on the counter next to the sink, some books next to the couch on a small side table, nothing he recognised. he slowly steps around the room, he spots the rifle holster next to the door, pristine condition. either hardly used or just magnificently well looked after. there is a small wardrobe in the corner of the room, a light on the panel to it occasionally blinking. his curiosity peaks and he walks over, pressing the button to it. the door slides upwards into the ceiling and reveals a set of mandalorian armour kept neatly inside.

his heart rate picks up. where did you get it? why do you have it? these reel through his head, his trail of thought interrupted by the child cooing next to his feet. he closes the wardrobe and picks him up. "I'm not sure about this one, kid." the child tilts his head and coos again. mando sighs out slowly. the sound of the fresher door opening makes him raise his head again, hand on his holster.

you walk out from the hall way, hair damp from the shower. "the food should be hot enough now." you say as you reach the kitchen, pulling three bowls out from a cupboard.

"where'd you get the armour?" he questions. you place the bowls on the counter slowly. "did you kill someone for it?" he accuses in a flat tone.

"no." you reply.

"how do you have it?" he presses further.

"it's been in my family for a few generations. my parents come from mandalore, I was raised as one." you confess.

"you remove your helmet?" he's puzzled. that's when you realise he's a child of 'the watch'.

your muscles relax. "are you apart of 'the watch'?"

"yes. we follow the way." he stays still.

"'the watch' follows the ancient interpretation of The Way. more spiritual too." you continue, serving some of the soup into each bowl.

"you don't follow it?" he steps forward.

"no. my family followed the more modern practices." you push a bowl across the counter towards him. he relaxes a bit, stepping in front of the counter and setting the child down on top of it. he coo's at his own bowl and sits down.

"Gaa'tayl yourself" help yourself, you say.

"gar jorhaa'ir mando'a?" you speak mando'a?, he replies.

"yeah." you pick up your own bowl and sip on your soup. "my mother taught me."

he hums, his own bowl closer. he lifts his helmet just high enough so he can drink from it. "you're a devout follower of the way?" you inquire, leaning against the counter with your hip. he slips his helmet back on fully, "yes." without elaborating. the child burps after finishing his bowl and you chuckle. a light laugh comes through mando's modulator. it makes you smile. a reminder of his humanity beneath the thick and heavy beskar that is adorned across his body.

after the child finished about 4 more bowls of pog soup, he crashed on the couch and was softly snoring. you sat outside under the cover of your porch, listening to the rain and thunder. the mandalorian stood in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed. there was comfortable silence between you two, only being interrupted by the crashes of thunder. mando occasionally turned his gaze to you, taking in your frame from where you sat, in your rocking chair. the soft creak of the wood falling into a soothing rhythm. you decide to break the silence first, "I'll try to work quickly on the hyperdrive, I might need to go to one of the outposts if I don't have the parts I need." you turn your head slightly towards him, awaiting a reply, and he does. "I can give you the credits for the parts." he offers.

"don't worry, I'll see what I have in my inventory first." turning your head back towards the vast fields that stretch for miles, the mountains in the distance being illuminated by the lightning.

"so you're a farmer?" mando asks, tiredness creeping into his voice. "yes, not where I thought I'd end up but, I'm happy." you inform.

"what did you do before?" he asks. you contemplate telling him your whole life story or a summarised version, settling on the latter.

"after the purge on mandalore, my father brought me to Tatooine. my mother died during the purge, and my father soon after. he had a bounty out on him from the empire. I managed to hide. he left me my mother's armour before he gave himself up. he was wanted dead, so I assume that's how he ended up after he was taken." you pause. the mandalorian shifts his weight on his feet, taking in everything.

"I started to do jobs here and there," you continue. "fixing speeders, handling market stalls while the owners went to do other business, helping out on moisture farms, running errands, things like that. I had finally managed to save up enough credits to get off of Tatooine and made my way to Alderaan. I enrolled in their education programme— I studied linguistics for a while, then mechanics, and eventually politics. my teachers then realised I had no valid or real identity documents, so I was expelled. started doing more jobs here and there until they released the same." you continue to ramble. mando listens intently.

"what did you do then?" he presses.

"whatever I had to. I started to steal things here and there. then I moved on to stealing bigger things— cargo shipments, things like that. then by accident I ended up stealing valuable information off of a rebel informant, which led the rebels to me. they recognised my talent for stealing things and offered me a position in the rebellion. steal intelligence, commit treason against the empire, that sort of thing. I eventually got partnered up with other rebel spies. a man named cassian andor was my longest standing partner. the others thought I was too reckless and had me reassigned after a few weeks. not cassian, though. he lead the assault team on scarif, while I fought off the aerial assault, to steal the Death Star plans. I never saw him or the rest of his squad again. after the Death Star was destroyed, I bailed out. thought that was the end of it, clearly not." you chuckle sadly.

mando steps closer, still listening silently.

"decided it wasn't for me after that. maybe I'll go back."

"you still believe in the cause?" he speaks up finally. "of course." you turn your face to him. "I of all people understand the importance of bringing the empire to its knees, like it does to so many people." you finish. he nods.

"then I came to lah'mu. an older woman needed help on her farm since she was slowing down with her old age, I offered myself willingly. she left everything to me after she died. she had no family, so now it's mine. I take care of the harvest each season and the small amount of cattle too. mostly orbak's to help with gathering." you add.

"orbak's aren't native to this planet, must be expensive?" he inquires more. "well, I had more. the old lady had bought them with some sort of pension money. a few have died in the cold snaps we had over the past few winter cycles. I'm trying to build them a hut outside, but, building materials are sparse right now." you finished your rambling. "I'm gonna turn in, the door will lock itself. Just put in the code I told you earlier if you get locked out." you stand from your chair and step past him into the house. "goodnight."

"night" he nods. the door slides closed after you disappear inside. Mando decides to check on the ship before turning in himself, walking out into the rain and past the fields.

when he walks onto the ship, he's taken aback by how tidy you left everything. he’s used to other mechanics making a mess of his cargo while they work and not leaving it how they found it. he inspects the stabilisers and is pleased with them. he checks the hyperdrive before returning to the house and it's cooling down nicely.

before mando sleeps, he picks grogu up from the couch and places him in his cradle, closing it as he stations it in the corner of his room. he waits until he can't hear any movement from your room to strip himself of his beskar and helmet, walking to the fresher in the dark. when he comes back to his room he puts his flight suit back on and his helmet, before succumbing to sleep. the bed cradles his own body, moulding to him.

weeks had passed, and you were still working on the razor crests hyperdrive. it had proved to be a harder job than you had anticipated. you had profusely apologised to mando for the hold up, and he had repeatedly told you to stop apologising. over the last couple of weeks you had grown closer together. you started to occasionally have conversations in mando'a— his was rusty, so you helped tutor him on it. he had told you about grogu and how he came to become his 'guardian' of sorts. you learned after a few too many osskorn stout's, that his name was din. it rolled off the tongue nicely. you had told him your name too, and it's mandalorian origins. you had become friends.

it was nice to have someone around. since there wasn't many large settlements on lah'mu, you had gotten used to only seeing the same 10-15 people at the various outposts that you frequented. you wouldn't say you were friends with any of the surrounding farmers and traders, but you were friendly. you'd trade things among yourselves, crops or vegetables for scrap parts and scrap building materials, meals for clothing, etc. during din's stay he had helped you build a hut for the orbak's, just like you wanted.

you both had grown accustomed to falling into a routine with one another. he'd help you with the farm, you'd help with the crest, with grogu, and so on. you made it a habit to sit out on the porch of an evening and watch the world pass by— sometimes in silence, and sometimes you'd talk for hours. you'd covered about every conversation topic possible by week 5.

you'd also started to become frustrated with one another, as well. you'd bicker like an old married couple on occasion, over small insignificant things. you told yourself it was only because you'd both been alone for so long that you weren't used to the constant company. whenever you'd get in a real snit, din would go for a walk to cool off. you'd wash what vegetables you'd gathered that day and cook something with them, and play with grogu to self regulate your emotions. din would always come back, his demeanour calmer. you'd place a bowl in front of him with some sort of meal, and he'd always apologise first. it was sweet really. you'd never admit it to him, but you'd started to procrastinate your progress on the crest because you didn't really want him to leave. you started to feel a pang in your chest whenever you would get close to him, and he felt a twinge in his— but neither of you paid too much attention to it or at least tried not to.

one morning you'd both quested to ride out to one of the further outposts, the two closer ones didn't have what you needed. grogu sat in a satchel on the side of the orbak that din rode, cooing at the birds that flew above. you didn't usually venture out this far until the summer, when the weather was more predictable and forgiving, but this was a trip of necessity. bandits were known to roam those areas, so you tended to steer clear of it as a single woman, but you felt safer with din. your rifle strap had started to dig into your shoulder and neck by hour 2, and you still had a handful of miles to go until you reached the outpost. while you were passing through one of the mountain valleys, the orbak's had gotten spooked by something. "easy! easy..." you tried to calm them, but to no avail. soon enough, it was revealed what had spooked them.

bandits. about 5 of them. you cursed internally. you knew this wasn't a good route to take. din immediately went into bounty hunter mode, pulling his rifle closer to him and ready for anything. your hand was over your own blaster. you knew better than to come this way, you thought.

the bandits had their own blasters and rifles raised as they made their way closer towards the two of you, your orbak's still unsettled. "what do you want?" you interrogated. one of them spoke in an alien language you didn't really understand, but you got the gist of it. they wanted whatever cargo you had with you, and din's armour.

"you'd have to take this armour off of my cold dead body." din replied immediately.

one of the bandits cursed and raised his rifle higher. you started to map out an escape route in your mind. from the looks of it, they were all on foot— probably camping out until some unfortunate souls, like you and din, had come through the valley. you reckoned that you two could out run them on the orbak's. you turned your head towards din and nodded. then you unholstered your blaster and shot the one closest to din and your orbak's bolted. the other bandits immediately started to fire on you, one hitting your orbak's leg. it tumbled over and took you with it. you scrambled to your feet and started firing back at them, ducking behind a rock. din quickly dismounted his own orbak and fired back at them as well.

"so what's your plan of getting out of here??" he yelled over. "my plane was flee, but clearly that didn't work!" you yelled back.

"you think?" he fired at them again. you were outnumbered, any regular traveller would be signing their own death warrant in this situation, but you and din were mandalorians, trained from infancy and early childhood. battle coordination was second nature to you both. you decided to push up further towards them, and din gave you cover fire. you had to admit your aim wasn't as good as it used to be— out of practice, you told yourself.

while you weren't paying attention, you got a blaster bolt to your upper shoulder and your side. rookie mistake. din called out your name, and pressed forward. you managed to pull yourself behind another rock while blaster fire still rained. din pressed various buttons on his vambrace, and several mini rockets shot out of the other one— taking down the rest of them.

"couldn't you have done that earlier?" you said, dripping in sarcasm. when you went to laugh, the pain in your ribs was too powerful. you winced and clutched your side, pulling away to see blood. not too much, but enough to make you worry. din shuffled over to you quickly and knelt by your side, his eyes scanning over your body for any other injuries. as far as he could tell, it was just your shoulder and side that got hit. thank the maker, he thought to himself. one hand came to your side, the other to cup your cheek. pang. "you okay??" his voice more panicked than before.

"never better." you managed a smile. he shook his head and chuckled. "always gotta be a smarts.." he added. he helped you rise to your feet while you still clutched your side, picking your blaster up from the floor and holstering it for you. you limped towards his orbak, your own still on the floor. it's leg was hurt badly. there was no way that you could get it back to the farm, or to the outpost, to help it. you sighed in defeat. "he's not gonna make it back.." you nodded towards it, lying on the ground, struggling to stand back up.

din walked you over to his orbak and you held onto the saddle to balance after he let go. he walked over to the other orbak and took his pistol in his hand and shot the animal in the back of the head. quick and painless. you felt relief come over you, and then the pain started— your adrenaline wearing off now. you winced again, clutching tighter onto the saddle next to you.

din strutted over to you, "how far is the outpost? do they have medical supplies there?" he rushingly asks. "it's still about 30 miles. we won't get there until dark, and by now there's probably more bandits in the area." you clutched your side tighter to try and ease the pain that was overstimulating your senses.

"how far back home?" he helps you balance by holding you up by your forearm. that familiar pang in your chest. "about 15. if the orbak gallops we can get back in an hour." you reply between winces. din nods. his hands fall to your waist and he lifts you onto the back of the orbak like you weigh nothing. another pang in your chest. his hands linger at your waist longer than they needed to. din hoists himself up on the saddle behind you after, taking the reigns of the orbak and turning him around, setting a steady speed back towards home.

you steadied yourself by grabbing the handle at the front of the saddle, the occasional coo's of grogu helping you distract yourself from the lingering ache and burning sensation that was tearing into the left side of your body. eventually, exhaustion over took your body and you somehow managed to lull to sleep, your head resting against din's shoulder. he had tried to keep you awake, distract you by asking various questions about the crest. 'how do you align the stabilisers?', 'whats the most common type of hyperdrive circuit arrangement for pre-new republic ships?', etc.

as soon as you reached the house your eyes snapped open to the sudden halt of movement. you pulled yourself forward so that din could slide down, before he took you by the waist again to get you down. he grabbed the satchel with grogu inside and helped you slowly hobble into the house. he set you down on the couch gently, along with the satchel. grogu crawled out and wobbled towards you, putting his small hand on your arm.

"medkit?" din asks. you silently point to a metal cupboard by the wardrobe. din paces over to it quickly, taking out all it's contents. bacta, he thought, perfect.

"I hope you're not scared of needles." he said before injecting the bacta syringe into your thigh, not giving you time to respond. your pain immediately started to subside. you thanked the maker. din peeled off your raincoat slowly, careful not to pull your arm too much to keep the pain in your shoulder to a minimum. your head fell back against the top of the sofa, your breathing becoming a little less rapid as the bacta targeted your wounds. the blaster bolt had gone completely though your coat and shirt. go figure. din had a mental dilemma with himself. he had to remove your shirt to properly treat your injuries. dank farrik.

"I... need to take this off." he said flatly, almost shy— like he was excepting you to say 'get fucked'. but you didn't, you just nodded. he carefully and agonisingly slowly lifted your shirt over your head, leaving you in just a bra. a twinge in his chest. a pang in yours.

"gota'la" maker, you said with a string of curses afterwards. din cracked open the medkit and pulled out what he needed. some sort of burn ointment, an antibacterial spray, and some gauze along with bandaging tape. he took his gloves off to be more effective, revealing warm, tanned skin. such a contrast to his cold leather gloves that he always wore. pang.

he started by spraying the antibac on your skin, and suddenly the bacta didn't seem as effective as it was before. you hissed and clamped your teeth together, your head lulling forward, grabbing onto din's forearm. a twinge in his chest. "I gotcha.." he reassured you softly. your head rested back on the couch as din continued to nurse you. the burn ointment helping to cool the skin, the sting starting to wear off again. your grip on his arm relaxed. he started to piece you back together, protecting the wounds with gauze, and taping it in place securely. you sighed with relief once he was finished, your hand slipping from his arm to his hand. another twinge.

"better?" he asked. "better." you repeated back to him. a sigh of relief coming through his modulator. grogu coo'd happily, shuffling away to his cradle and climbing in. you raised your head to look at din. his eyes searched for any discomfort in your face from under his helmet, behind the visor. another twinge.

"thank you." you sighed quietly. "I don't know why I took us that way, I know better than to go through that valley."

"hey. we made it out alive, that's the important part. maybe with one less orbak, but we made it back home." he soothed you, his hand coming to cup your cheek. pang. twinge.

butterflies.

both of your breathing steadied, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. you leaned into his touch shamelessly. pang, twinge.

you both stay there for a moment, you splayed against the couch, and din crouched between your knees. you hadn't realised the compromising position you were until now, and neither did he.

pang, twinge.

"you better not take advantage of me while I'm vulnerable, mando." you teased.

"din." he corrected you. "din" you echoed.

"I wouldn't dream of it." he confessed. "liar." you teased further.

"shot twice and you're still a little shit." he chuckled. pang.

you smiled. twinge. your hand squeezing his. pang, twinge.

din had helped you into your bed that night after you ate something to help with your strength, still stiff and sore. he tucked you in and stroked your hair out of your face as you laid against your pillow. as he pulled away, you grasped his hand. he stilled. twinge. you very quickly gave into exhaustion, dropping his hand as you slept. he lingered. watching the soft rise and fall of your chest. he left the door to your room open, and retired to his own room. his door open too, so he could listen out if you needed anything.

you had slept right through to early afternoon the next day. you cursed to yourself when you realised the time. you had crops to gather, chores to do, and a hyperdrive to procrastinate about. din wasn't there when you woke up. and an orbak was missing. he had left a note on the front door— "went to the outpost early this morning. will be back before dark. soup on the stove."

another pang in your chest. it felt domesticated, the note, the taking care of you last night, the lingering touches. you decided to go down to the lake near one of the crop fields and throw some nets in, hoping to catch some sort of fish. after no luck, you brought the nets back in. you suddenly realised you were in need of a shower, but laziness would tell you to just bathe in the lake. din wouldn't be back for another hour or two. you could be in and out before he was back.

you stripped yourself of your boots and pants, slowly lifting your shirt over your head. the cold breeze starting to nip at your skin. you peeled the bandaging away from your wounds slowly, and they were healing nicely. they were going to scar, but you didn't mind that much. you shed yourself of the last of your underwear, and into the lake you went. the cold water initially shot through your body, but subsided once you started to move around. you dipped your head under the water and rubbed your face. unbeknownst to you, din was closer to home than you had realised. he was walking along side the orbak, supplies he'd gotten at the outpost taking his place on the saddle, along with grogu's cradle following closely. he had seen something in the distance as he approached the house, his senses peaking. then, you raised up out of the water slightly. your hair, soaked, trailing down your back. he froze. he didn't want to watch you, it would be disrespectful and against his creed. but he couldn't look away.

he soaked in the sight of you, your curves, your bare skin, and the way your hair was cascading down your back. grogu coo'd and suddenly he was brought back to the present. he turned his back and took the orbak to the hut, unloading the cargo from it and it's saddle.

you had heard grogu's distant coo's and decided that was your queue to get out and make yourself decent. you rushed out of the lake and into the side door of the house, jogging to your room with your clothes cradled in your arms. you grabbed a towel and squeezed dry your hair, putting on a larger tunic and shorts. you could hear din's boots against the floor of the house, announcing his presence.

you walked down the hallway and out of your room to see din unpacking the supplies from the outpost, grogu sat on the counter watching.

you could get used to this kind of view. pang. you suddenly thought of the hyperdrive again, and you felt guilty for keeping din here longer than you actually needed to. you knew he'd tell you to stop apologising. deep down he didn't actually mind, and he was dreading having to leave. he'd gotten to used to the routine of seeing you when he woke up, rambling about something to grogu while you cradled him in your arms, too used to helping you around the farm, doing some of your chores with you, seeing you working hard on the crest to "repair' the hyperdrive. he'd gotten too used to you, and he didn't know if he could break that routine now. even if it weren't here, on lah'mu, on the farm, if he just had you with him— that would be enough.

he hears your soft footsteps and raises his head. twinge. he's all of a sudden aware of your lack of clothing on your bottom half. twinge.

"hey, feeling better?" he pushed the crate aside, giving you his full attention. pang. "yeah. you went to the outpost?" you stepped closer.

"yeah. I got what you needed." he leans against the doorframe to the kitchen. pang.

as you got closer, you're realising all over again how big he is. he's broad, he's got a strong frame, and he's slightly taller too. you think back to how he carried metal beams over to where you wanted the hut for the orbak's, how he didn't even break a sweat, and how he so effortlessly carried your body. pang. you step closer again. twinge.

"I'm gonna try get back to working on your hyperdrive, I promise." you lean against the counter. "don't worry about it." he chuckles, instead of ripping into you about apologising. "I don't mind being held up." he confesses. pang. twinge. he tilts his helmet to get a better look at you, his eyes scanning you up and down. thank the maker the visor of his helmet hides his shameless gawking at you and your body. his eyes trail up your bare legs— he thinks back to the lake. mapping out the rest of your body underneath the large dusty blue tunic that hides it. twinge. you can read him easily, you can almost sense his wandering eyes from beneath the beskar. pang.

"I don't want you to leave." your voice barely above a whisper. he shifts his weight and stand straight, stepping closer to you. you swallow, looking up at him slightly. his hand comes up to rest on your good shoulder, the other on your forearm of your bad side. pang. twinge.

"I know." his modulator crackles slightly. you stand up straight and mirror his posture, your hand comes up top rest on his forearm. pang, twinge. you wish you could see his eyes. even though you don't follow the creed, you respect it. you know he won't take his helmet off, even for you, you think.

he moves his hand from your shoulder to cup your face. "I don't think I can go across the galaxy without you." he quietly mutters your name and brushes his thumb across your cheekbone softly. pang, twinge.

"then don't leave"— your internal dialogue coming out before you have time to stop it. pang, twinge, butterflies. he's staring at you more intently now, and you can't help the warm sensation that pools in your abdomen. "you'd want to keep me around?" he questions. you nod. pang, twinge.

he tilts his helmet to rest against your forehead. a kov'nyn. a mandalorian kiss. pang, twinge, butterflies. silent admission.

"this is the way." his voice is shy and quiet. "ibic cuyir te ara." you echo, in mando'a.

he steps closer, engulfing your frame in his broad one. your hands come to his helmet, stroking the sides of it gently. "I'm yours." you sigh airily. that's all it takes for him to switch. he grabs at your body, moving you towards your bedroom with hast. the back of your legs hit the bed and you sit, he kneels down and tugs at the bottom of your tunic— looking for permission. you pull the tunic over your head, your bare breasts on display for him. he soaks in every detail. he pulls his gloves odd before he touches you, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin with his own hands. he palms gently at the soft tissue, a quiet whimper escaping your lips.

"so perfect" he breaks the silence, moving his hands up and down your torso, inching closer to the waist band of your shorts. you lift yourself up so that he can pull them down, and they're discarded somewhere to the side. you don't care enough to notice, just focusing on him.

he moves his hands over your waist and hips, squeezing the soft flesh there gently. he moves lower, towards your thighs, then the back of your knees, pulling them apart. cold breeze tingles lightly at your core. you're already soaked, and he knows it. he chuckles. "all this for me, cyar'ika?" he teases, moving his hands agonisingly closer to where you need him most.

"stop teasing." you pant, sounding more needy than you wanted to.

"I'm just taking my time, savouring every moment..." he replies breathily. he moves his hands to the inside of your thighs, stroking up and down them slowly. you move your hands to prop you up, anticipating his next move. he takes one finger and pulls it up through your slit slowly, watching your face twist in relief. a soft gasp leaves your mouth. he adds another finger, paying more attention to your clit this time. pang, pang, pang. he circles it softly and gently, then he pinches it— you wince with pleasure and tilt your head to the side. 'din, please..." you beg pathetically.

"easy, cyar'ika..." he says lowly, circling your clit faster this time. you can feel the coil in your belly getting tighter. then suddenly, he slips a finger into your entrance, while his other hand palms at your thigh. you moan— shamelessly. then he adds another. his thick fingers pumping in and out slowly, methodically. you throw your head back and cling onto his forearm that lays on your thigh.

"din— please— fuck.." you breathe rapidly. he watches as your breasts bounce slightly from the rise and fall of your laboured breathes. he likes this. the making you wait, watching you fall apart.. all just from a couple of his fingers. he smiles drunkly under the helmet. the pressure in your belly is getting tighter, and your breathe is picking up pace— almost in synchronisation with his fingers speeding up.

he moves this hand from your thigh to play with your clit using his thumb, pressing and swirling around. your moans are getting more high pitched, and your propping yourself up with your elbows now. your head lulls back as you moan again. din's pants start to feel tighter and tighter with each sound you make, his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

"let go for me." he says, spend up more. you almost don't hear him until he says your name and repeats himself. you move your head to look at him, and where his fingers are squelching in and out of your pussy.

"fuck— din.. I'm gonna come..." you rasp out. "I know.. let go." and that's all it takes. your back falls against your bed as white fills your vision. your breathing starts to regulate again, and din removes his fingers from you. he stares at the shine that coats his fingers, proud.

you muster up enough strength to sit up again slowly, taking his hand and moving his fingers to your mouth, licking them clean.

"fuck.." it comes out quietly from his modulator. twinge, twinge, twinge. he moves his free hand to brush your hair away from your face, looking at the glow that adorns your face.

"I need you." you whine, hands moving to his belt and feverishly unbuckling it, dropping his belt to the side. he strips himself from his armour and flight suit, leaving him in only his boxers and helmet.

you soak in the sight. it was even better than what you had imagined at night while you touched yourself quietly, that started after week 4. he's tanned, with a thin layer of hair splaying across his chest. he's muscular too, which explains his impeccable strength. you move further up the bed, and he follows. he palms at your sides while you get comfortable amongst the pillows.

your hands trail down his chest, lower, and lower. both of your breathing is picking up again, his helmet inches from your face. he presses it against your forehead, "please.." it's his turn to beg now. you take your hand to his crotch and palm him through the fabric of his pants. he moans quietly, and lowly while you do. after a few moments, he moves your hand away and pins it next to your head. "I can't wait any longer, been waiting too long for this, fuck..."

you lick your lips in anticipation, and spread wider for him. remnants of your previous orgasm coating your thighs and dripping onto the sheets below. din pulls his boxers down and tosses them away, then he takes himself in his hand. he's thick. thicker than you had imagined. you're almost afraid he won't fit. "I'll take this slow, okay?" he assures you, brushing your hair back once more. you nod.

"I want you to tell me if you want me to stop." he continues. you nod again— "say it." he almost demands. "I'll tell you if I want you to stop." you confirm, resting your hands on his biceps and squeezing slightly to reassure him.

he nods before lining himself up with your entrance, and pushing in slowly. you both moan in unison. the burn makes your eyes water, but once he bottoms out, you moan again. he stills, waiting for you to ebb him on. you adjust your posture to take him better and squeeze his bicep again. a silent you can move. he starts slowly, pulling out carefully, before sinking back into your warm, tight cunt. he moans again as he bottoms out for a second time.

"I want to kiss you." you breathe out. you don't know what he'll say, you're afraid he'll pull out and leave.

he leans across to the lamp next to your bed, and dims it. his other hand still holding yours. you can barely see him, just a side profile. you hear the click of his helmet coming off, and the bed dipping down next to you where he's placed his helmet. you can feel his breath, warm and strong, as he inches closer. you raise your hand from his bicep to his face, cupping his cheek like he did to you so many times before. then, he kisses you. pang, twinge, butterflies.

it's soft and slow, he parts your lips with his tongue, and you happily oblige. his tongue swirls around yours, and he makes sure to remember every detail. the warmth, the way you suck in breath through your nose so sharply. he deepens it with a newfound urgency, and thrusts deep into you, much faster this time. you moan into him and return the deepening of the kiss.

he pulls out, then thrusts fast and deep. again, and again, and again. your back arches off of the bed, pulling him in closer. your chests touching with the rise and fall of your breathing. he bites your lip, and you swear you can feel him smile. he moves his mouth from yours to your cheek, then your ear, your jaw, your neck, and finally your collarbone. nipping and sucking at the skin there— and it sets your skin on fire. every sensation is heightened.

thrust, thrust, thrust. he's picking up his pace now, and the coil in your belly is pulling tighter again. you moan, and your free hand finds his hair, soft and slightly curly, tugging and pulling at it. he moans into the skin of your neck, releasing your hand from his and moving it to your clit, circling it with a needy pace. your moans are more frequent, more whiney. your breasts bounce back and forth softly with each of his thrusts. he takes his other hand and grabs at anything he can. your waist, hip, thigh, ass, tits. he lets them linger there, taking your nipple between his fingers and twisting and pinching at it.

his hand trails further up your body, and he palms at your upper chest— your collarbones, pushing into them gently. then further up, until he meets your neck, and he wraps his hand loosely around it, squeezing gently.

you swear you could've come right then and there. your moans are becoming pornographic, in time with his thrusts. his are lower, more like a grunt. he takes his hand away from your neck and hikes your leg up higher, over his shoulder, hitting that spongy spot inside you, over, and over again.

your head thrashes back into the pillows and you let out a low, guttural moan, cursing and chanting his name, along with a string of 'yes, yes, yes,' and 'just like that— oh fuck..". your own name falling out of his mouth like a hymn against your skin, right next to your ear. his moans are loud and clear now, and it only pushes you further over the edge.

he takes your other leg and tosses it over his shoulder, quickening his pace. the sounds that fill the room are sinful, the squelching of him pistoning in and out of you, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, all coming together in a sweet symphony. he memorises it. every breath, every whine, every moan, every time you squeeze his cock. twinge, twinge, twinge.

"fuck— I'm, close, din" you whine, one hand coming to your clit as you circle it at a violent pace, the other back too his hair. pulling and tugging to ebb him on, and oh does he obey. pushing your legs back against your chest, flush with your breasts, and he fucks into you hard, fast, and deep.

"fuck, fuck, fuck... maker. your little cunt is just made for me, cyar'ika.." he moans and whimpers. he actually whimpers. you swear then and there that you will never forget that sound, carved into your memory. his pace is feverish now, rocking your body back and forth, knocking the air out of your lungs almost. the band inside you is about to snap, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"cmon baby, come all over this dick.." he encourages. and that's all it takes, again. you're a moaning, withering mess beneath his large body. he doesn't stop, fucking you through your orgasm at the same pace. tears roll down the sides of your face from the overstimulation, and all of a sudden you have a newfound strength inside of you.

you flip through two of you over, and now he's under you. his back flush with the bed, and his arms clawing at your hips. "fuck—" he grunts out. the dim glow from the lamp illuminates you perfectly. the glow of your slick, sweat covered skin, the way your hair reflects the light. your hands come to his chest so you can brace yourself. "your turn." you breathe, and he let's you. he let's you take over. then— he stops you. "wait. I have an idea."

you stop your movements, him still buried to the hilt inside of you. he picks up his helmet next to him and sets it to the blackout setting on the visor, and then puts it on you. it smells like him, you think to yourself. your senses are almost heightened from him taking away your sight, and you feel him move beneath you as he turns the light back up. "I wanna see you put on a show, cyar'ika." he rubs his hands up and down your sides encouragingly. from his view, he swears he could die like this and not have any complaints.

he can see your body fully now. beautiful and full atop of him. he palms at your ass again. you take that as a hint to move.

you rock back and forth against him slowly, your clit bumping into your pelvis with each movement. your moans are free in the air now (or rather through the modulator of the helmet. his helmet), and you start to slowly raise yourself off of his cock, before slamming back down against him. his moans are praise enough for your efforts. you do it again, and again, and again, until you've got a nice pace set. his hands frantically move up and down your body. your sides, your ass, your thighs, he cups your breasts and watches them bounce up and down with each rise and fall on his cock. yeah, he can die happy now.

you take hold of his wrist, and guide him to your neck. he wraps his large, warm hand around it gently, and then squeezes the sides. you moan, and he swears it's the loudest, most satisfied noise he's ever heard in his life. he moves his hands to play with your breasts again, squeezing and grabbing at them sloppily. he pulls you closer so that he can take them in his mouth, and your hands tangle in his hair again.

you yank his head back, and he whimpers again.

"fuck— yes, yes, yes.." you chant. you tilt your frame back now, bracing your hands on his thighs behind you as you plunge up and down with a blinding speed now. he palms at your thighs, and the moans and whimpers are falling endlessly past his lips now. you throw your head back, picking up the pace as much as humanly possible. "just like that baby— just like that." he praises, his own head falling heavy into the pillows beneath him.

he twitches inside of you, and you can tell he's close— you are too. just a few more thrusts, and you're there.

"shit, where do you want it?" he suddenly rasps. your pace doesn't falter. "inside. want you to spill into me." you breathe. he moans immediately, and twitches again. pang, pang, pang. twinge, twinge, twinge.

you bring yourself forward again and your hands are on his chest, he holds one of your elbows, and the other hand occupies your hip. then it happens. he comes, fast and hard, and deep. you follow soon after, still sloppily and slowly rocking back and forth against him.

din swears that's the closest he's felt to heaven. "shit—" he gasps. you collapse into his chest as the initial high comes down. he reaches back over to the lamp and dims in, before removing his helmet from your head. he brushes the hairs stuck to your skin with sweat away from your face, and he pulls your face towards his for another deep, rough kiss. you moan into him, hands finding his soft curls once again. he finally pulls away for breath, and you can feel the air between you being sucked in and breathed out, sharing oxygen.

you drop your head to rest next to his, still on top of him, him still buried to the hilt inside of you. you can feel his cock still pumping thick, warm come inside of you— coating every inch. it drips down out of your cunt and onto his pelvis, and your thigh. completely and utterly spent.

he gently strokes you, tracing shapes on the small of your back. the rhythm of his chest calming you.

"ni kar'tayl darasuum gar" I love you, you breath against his jaw and kiss him there. "this is the way", he replies. "I love you too." he kisses your temple, breathing in your scent. din pulls the covers over you, turning you both onto your sides, still comfortably buried in you. the shadow from your own face covers his, but you can see the colour of his eye that is illuminated. by the lamp. warm and brown. now your favourite colour in the galaxy. you memorise it, you don't know when you'll see it again.— your hands tracing every dip and curve of his face. he smiles against you and pulls you closer. you shift your leg up to trap him beneath it, and the movement makes him grunt again.

"keep doing that, and I might come again." he chuckles. you mirror him.

"we have plenty of time." you rub your nose against his, and the press your forehead to his.

you have no plans on fixing that hyperdrive anytime soon.

Yes, you were a little desperate. A week had passed and you really, truly wanted him all to yourself. But you could never find the right moment, and it was driving you crazy.

Now would be the right opportunity. You could hear the water running in the 'fresher, Din cleaning the rest of the day off himself. You were already in bed, ready. Just waiting for him.

You had prepared yourself, wearing the nightgown you knew drove him crazy.

So when he came out of the bathroom, his wet curls plastered to the sides of his face and wearing only pyjama bottoms, you thought your fantasies would come true.

He gave you his kind smile, the one you still couldn't believe you had missed for so long. It was incredible for you to finally have the chance to admire his beauty, even if he denied it.

Din sat down next to you, and you could feel your heart beating in your ears. This was the moment, you could feel it in your bones. He took your head in his hands, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead. You smiled unconsciously, preparing yourself.

But you froze when he said, "Good night, mesh'la," and lay down.

What had just happened?

You refrained from scoffing. Had he really left you like that? Maybe he hadn't noticed... Hadn't he seen the excitement in your eyes?

He probably sensed your stunned gaze because he then turned around, his face full of confusion. "Are you alright, cyare?"

You blinked, feeling your face flush. "I just... I thought this would be the night."

He tilted his head slightly. "The night?"

You rolled your eyes, hating that he was making you say it out loud, even though you didn't really understand. "You know. We... haven't been together in quite some time."

"Oh." He blinked, instantly taking your hand. "I'm really sorry, cyare. Today has been a long day, and..."

You shook your head, his apologetic eyes making you regret even thinking it. "No, I understand. You should rest."

But Din was a weak man. The simple sight of your big, glassy eyes, and the fact that you had been waiting so eagerly for him, made him give in easily.

"Wait." His hand rose to your cheek, caressing it. "I want to please you, mesh'la."

"No, I said it's alright—" His lips against yours silenced you, making you let out a gasp of surprise.

His hands focused on your waist, reaching through your nightgown to feel your skin against his. Even though he had taken a shower, he felt warm, and the contrast against the cold of your body made you shiver. Without realising it, you were already on top of his lap, moving your hips.

"Wait." Din pulled away, and gods—it was the perfect sight. His lips swollen, his hair tousled. "Would you like to sit on my face?"

Your eyes widened, you were stunned. In fact, you were more surprised by how direct he was. When you first met, he was very shy about sex. But now...

"...Are you sure?" You blushed.

"Hell. Yes, please." The way he groaned made you realise he really wanted that. And, well... who were you to deny that offer?

You smiled in a way that made Din's heart skip a beat, and just when he thought you couldn't be more perfect, you took off your nightgown.

His hands roamed your body, caressing every part of it. He loved seeing your little reactions, your moans, your skin bristling, your breathing quickening.

"Come here." He lay back, gently taking your thighs to guide them to his face. You settled in delicately, trembling with anticipation. Din licked his lips before running his tongue all over your centre, and—

"Oh." The whimper you let out echoed throughout the room, making you bite your lip. Din squeezed your thigh, telling you he wanted to hear you.

And so it was.

From then on, everything felt like a dream. The way he licked slowly, savouring your walls, groaning at the taste of your fluids. It made him regret so much not taking off his damn helmet as soon as he met you and making you ride his face.

Your back arched when his nose brushed your clitoris, sending a shiver through your entire body. You had to grab the headboard, afraid of falling forward. Din gripped your thighs tighter, his large hands almost covering them completely.

"Din—Fuck." The words that came out of your mouth in the form of moans were barely coherent, the pleasure making your brain feel dizzy.

And then you looked down. And you saw him, his eyes watching your every reaction, and fuck—he looked so beautiful like that. So beautiful that it mesmerised you, and when his lips gently sucked your clit, it caught you off guard, making you moan in a way that made him smirk.

"So fucking pretty." His voice sounded muffled when he spoke, his hands moving to grab your ass in a way that you just knew was going to leave a mark. "Ride my face, cyare. I know you want it."

Your hips began to move automatically, making him let out a low moan. The idea of you using him for your own pleasure turned him on so much. Every lick, every caress of his lips made you tremble, your knuckles white from holding on so tightly.

"Shit. Din—Oh." Your head fell back, Din's mouth taking you to heaven. The rubbing of his mouth against your centre brought you closer and closer to your orgasm, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach forming.

But when his hand slid between your thighs, two fingers curling perfectly on your core—it was too much.

You closed your eyes, your orgasm hitting you like lightning running through your body. You felt Din moan beneath you, licking every fluid that came out of your core. He stayed like that until your breathing calmed down, your legs still trembling.

When you had recovered a little, you looked at him and... he was perfect. Still beneath you, holding you, his pupils so dilated that you could no longer see the brown of his eyes. You licked your lips, laughing a little at the mess you were. You were all sweaty, and your breathing was a disaster.

Din smiled at you, gently taking you in his arms and laying you down on the bed. His beard was shiny, and you couldn't help but kiss him. His tongue slid into your mouth, and you moaned as he tasted you.

His hands went to your waist, holding you tightly. "You are so perfect, mesh'la," he whispered, his voice thick and raspy.

"I believe you were the perfect one," you replied with a playful smile, before kissing him again.

You had found your new favourite activity.

kinktober taglist- @rippleoak, @crimsonjewel66, @discogrrl, @dotyoureyez, @nova-willow-541, @lauren7050, @salingers, @julianspants-blog, @destinywithluv, @whisperofwild, @thetoastghost222

ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ dividers by @pommecita

“You’re… giving this to me,” you ask, dragging the question out.

The Mandalorian stands at your doorstep. Unreadable beneath hard shiny metal and illuminated only by the entry light of your home above your door. The chilly night air bites your cheeks but he stands unfazed.

“As a thank you,” he explains. “You were a big help to my kid and this was the only thing I had that seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

All you did was give his little green kid some medicine. It’s not like it was even your first interaction with the infamous hunter. He’s stopped by your apothecary a couple times. Passing by so swiftly you hardly even knew he was there if it wasn’t for the lingering stares from other customers. If you recall correctly, he only ever picks up supplies to replenish a med pack or bacta spray for wounds.

Until you suddenly found him at your doorstep the other night with his adorable little green baby in his arms. The poor little guy was running a fever, coughing up a storm, and had even refused food for over a day. Any parent would be frantic. And so you didn’t even think twice to let them inside.

Luckily your small shop is attached below your home, so you were quick to find the right tinctures for his illness. The Mandalorian paced circles in your kitchen as you administered the medicine and blotted his kid’s little forehead with a cool damp cloth. It took some time and a lot of reassurance to a very nervous father, but after a few hours the fever broke.

You sent them home with some herbal tinctures and even some homemade hard medicinal candies for stubborn coughs and that was it. Hardly any words were exchanged between you that night that didn’t pertain to the child. Only a heartfelt thank you, goodnight, and a promise to pay you back somehow. You assured him that it really wasn’t necessary, that you were glad to help.

You’ve admittedly always been curious about the man. With his stoic demeanor and a reputation that preceded him like lightening preceded thunder. He’s somewhat of a local legend, menace, and hero all wrapped up in one. And now he’s at your door. With booze. Definitely a man of his word, this guy.

“You’re giving this,” you repeat with astonishment. “This whole bottle, to me?”

“Yes,” he answers again. “Is it a special one or something?”

“This is Andoan wine,” you emphasize, holding out the clear glass bottle. “You can only find these on Coruscant now. Very delicious, very rare, very expensive.”

“Is it,” he asks nonchalantly. “I’ve never tried it before. But I hope you enjoy it.”

“You really don’t have to,” you tell him.

“I insist. I didn’t know the first thing to do so I appreciate your help.”

You chuckle. With your limited interactions, you’re starting to see that he’s short and to the point with his words. Almost like he’s not entirely used to speaking with people.

“I…” You nearly argue it again but decide against it. He really didn’t have to give you such a lavish gift for something any good person would do in a situation like that. It was only natural. But at this point, refusing him might come off as rude so…

“Thank you very much.”

The Mandalorian acknowledges your gratitude with a tilt of his helmet, then turns on his heels to leave without another word. And for some reason, you linger at the door. You watch him go down one step, then another, then-

“H-hey, Mando?”

Your sudden call stops him in his tracks on the stair case and he turns to look back over his shoulder. The dim light gleaming over his steel.

“Yes?”

“I…. w-well…”

You’re stammering. Just come out and say it.

“If you’ve never tried it… would you like to share it with me?”

He stands there silently looking at you and the awkwardness crawls your skin.

“I’m not busy at the moment and it’s not really in my culture to drink alone.”

Culture your ass. You just want to drink with him. It’s unclear why in particular but… you’re curious about him. Other than the company of his kid, he seems alone. You wonder if he prefers it that way or if it’s for another reason entirely. Either way, the offer was worth a shot.

There’s more silence and the only noise in the air comes from the gentle chirp of some lava crickets and the breeze brushing the trees in the street. And it’s in that moment that regret starts to burn in your stomach

He’s gonna say no. A pause like that doesn’t necessarily mean yes. But it would be rude not to offer, right? A bottle this nice doesn’t come by these parts and it’d be a shame to drink it alone. It’s reasonable to offer the gesture. After all, he went out of his way to come here from across town. It’s the least you can do to show your appreciation in return.

“Alright.”

The word that falls out of him so effortlessly hits you like a punch to the chest. Are you nervous? Absolutely. But how many people can say they shared a drink with the Mandalorian?

A few minutes later, you find yourself standing on your tip toes, grabbing a couple earthenware ceramic cups in your kitchenette cabinet while Mando stands in your living room. His helmet follows the various potted plants, momentos and knick knacks from your travels littered around your home. Even tracing his gloved fingers over some of them.

“You have a nice home,” he says. “I didn’t notice before. Very lived in.”

“Lots of junk,” you joke. “You can say it Mando, I won’t mind.”

“My place is still new. Doesn’t feel like a home just yet.”

“That’ll change over time,” you assure him. “After a while, your home becomes a collection of memories.”

His attention gets drawn to a particular item on your wall. It’s an old worn down canvas satchel bag that hangs on the wall. At one point it was a life line. Now it serves as a reminder that no matter how hard life gets, showing a little kindness can go a long way for someone.

“What’s this memory?”

“That? That memory is what got me here.” You smile to yourself as you wipe down the cups with a clean kitchen rag.

“A few years ago, I was on Pantora with just some spare change and the clothes on my back. I was desperate to leave so I ended up hitching a ride on a freight ship. I worked on the ship in exchange for a ride to Corellia. Their language was difficult to learn and I had a rough time getting things done because for some reason everything was written in the native language and not aurebesh. On a stop to Tattooine, I accidentally labeled a pallet of coaxium as a pallet of scrap metal. That “scrap” was sold to some Jawas and by the time everyone realized my mistake we were already halfway to the next planet.”

“Was that before you came the Nevarro?”

“That was the reason I came to Nevarro,” you clarify. “It was their next stop so they dropped me here.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch,” you laugh. “Anyway, I guess one of the workers felt sorry for me and left me that satchel with a couple credits and some ration bars inside. Buuut my mistake turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Nevarro turned itself around. I have my own little business. I’m even able to save a little bit of money now. For the time being, things are comfortable. I’ve hopped around the system a lot as you can see. But… this is a place I can always come back to.”

“Something reliable,” he adds.

“Exactly,” you say softly, smiling at the sentiment.

You look up at him. And you didn’t notice as you were cleaning those cups that he’s now completely facing towards you. His visor is trained on you. And it’s then that you realize how small your home really is. Because Mando is broad.

His crossed arms accentuate his wide shoulders. His chest plate follows the lines of his trim torso. Even those plates of beskar armor can barely hide the bulk of his biceps. Your eyes briefly, briefly take a tour at his waist line before you realize how incredibly rude you’re being.

He’s a guest. And a customer. Don’t. Check. Him. Out.

Heat starts to rise in your cheeks. Focusing back on the cups, you round the kitchen counter and walk over to him.

“I’m sorry. All this talking suddenly got deeper and I feel like I haven’t really introduced myself. We’ve only ever passed by each other before,” you chuckle, shaking away the nerves.

In hindsight you should’ve just introduced yourself the other night, but truthfully you were in care-taker-mode and it didn’t occur to you at the time. Plus you didn’t think you’d have an encounter with the man again other than seeing him briefly in your shop every so often. But he seems like a nice enough person with the limited knowledge you do have with him. And after tonight you’re bound to cross paths again. So you happily extend your hand out and give him his cup along with your full name.

There’s a couple beats of silence and you’re starting to see that’s his default. But it doesn’t stop you from second guessing your words as if you’re crossing an unknown boundary. There’s a slight tilt downward with his helmet and he responds with a regretful “I’m sorry, but-“

“You don’t have to tell me your name,” you immediately add. “I know there’s… principles you must have. I just wanted you to know me. That’s all.”

Another beat passes before he finally reaches out to take the cup in his hand. He repeats your name and the way it comes out of his voice holds a whole new flavor. Soft and curious even through the warble of his vocoder. It’s almost like he’s seeing how it tastes.

You like it. You like it a lot.

“It’s nice to meet you.” The voice wears the vocoder like a veil but you still catch a hint of a smile by his relaxed tone. No real logical way to know for certain, just a gut feeling.

“Likewise,” you smile back.

“So,” he exhales. “You want to know how two Mandalorians drink?”

“Sure. Sounds educational,” you joke.

With a tilt of his helmet, Mando steps further into the living room area and you follow behind, cup and bottle in hand. Walking over to the couch, his gloved hand reaches for the small round pillow resting there. His smokey grey cape flows over his shoulder and for a moment you’re mesmerized by the movement. As he turns on his heel, his fingers release the pillow. Letting it fall to the thin rug with a muted poof.

“Right here.” Mando gestures to the floor and you waltz over to take a seat on the cushion, crossing your legs. It doesn’t escape your notice how he doesn’t grab the only pillow for himself. Opting for your comfort over his own.

He takes a minute to look around the room. Probably checking for anything reflective. Then with a swish of his cape to the side, Mando settles in the floor behind you. When his back presses against yours, you expect a wall of cold hard metal beneath the cape. But instead there’s warmth. Strong and firm, but still warm and giving.

“It’s customary to sit on the floor when drinking with a war band. Usually outside around a fire. When it’s just two, it’s back to back.”

“Aaah,” you drawl. “Very practical. I like it.”

The top of the bottle comes off with a pop and the rich scent caresses your nose like a hug. After pouring about two fingers worth into Mando’s cup you pour one for yourself and settle in.

“Are we drinking to anything tonight ,” you ask him.

“Not sure. How about…,” he pauses for a moment before deciding. “To that Pantoran who gave you the satchel.”

That makes you laugh out loud. But you can’t help but feel a little pleased at that. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be on Nevarro, wouldn’t have a home. And you definitely wouldn’t be drinking with Mando tonight. For that you’re especially grateful.

“You know what, yeah,” you chuckle. “To the Pantoran.”

Mando extends his arm back to reach your cups and you meet him halfway. Letting them touch with a soft clack.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

There’s an unclicking sound and you sense that he’s probably tilting his helmet back to drink. You ignore the small tinge of disappointment that he didn’t take it completely off. But it’s understandable. He doesn’t know you well. Even drinking like this with an outsider is probably a big deal for people of his creed. His back presses a little further against yours as he takes his first sip and you take yours.

The wine is rich and dry, and a bit smokey. But the underlying taste of tangy fruit blends well with the flavor. Going by the color, it has to have been bottled for a decades. The alcohol runs warmly down your throat and settles like smoldering ember in your stomach. It’s like no other alcohol you’ve ever tried before. Not even close.

“Hoooh,” he hisses after that sharp bite of alcohol.

“Yeah,” you agree knowingly. Already sensing that this bottle is getting finished tonight.

The conversations flow pretty easily after the first drink. He tells you about how his boy came into his life and how he suddenly found himself being his father. You tell him that you can only dream of having a parent like him because you never got to know yours. You half expected he would cut the interaction short and only accept one drink. But when you offer a refill, he gladly accepted which warmed you from the inside.

Admittedly you ask a few curious questions about his creed and he indulges you a bit. And he asks about how you got into medicine making. But for the most part you both stick to easier topics like current events on Nevarro, work, and food. Eventually two drinks turn into three and somehow you’ve both dipped into topics like past relationships. Which is dangerous territory after drink number three.

“It was baaad, Mando. I’m telling you. I mean, really! Who gives two shits who makes more money than who? Or am I in the wrong here?”

“Nah, definitely not,” he replies. His speech now more relaxed but a little raspy from the alcohol. “Honestly, he sounds like a little bitch if that was his main concern.”

“Yeah! Like, what is it with these men and needing to feel superior in such bullshit, inconsequential ways?”

“You seem strong willed. Weak men are intimidated by that.”

“Yeah well, then every man I’ve met in this galaxy was weak,” you groan. “I mean, c’mon. Am I that intimidating? Is it the yapping? It’s probably the yapping.”

“I think someone who’d be deterred by something that trivial doesn’t sound worth a damn anyway.”

With that, you let out a deep sigh and slump against the man behind your back.

“Eh, you’re probably right,” you exhale. You toss back the last little sip in your ceramic cup, savoring the flavor.

“You know what, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll just be that shop girl around the corner who throws herself into her work, makes her little remedies, and stays happily independent. I think I can live with that.”

A pause streches between you.

“You don’t sound too convincing, Shop Girl,” he teases.

“Shit,” you tsk.

You both wheeze with laughter, your bodies rumbling against one another and it’s so… relaxing. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t say much. Or that what little he does say is said with a sincerity you’re not used to. Or you’re drunk. It could very well be that.

But in a galaxy full of deceit and unknown dangers, it’s refreshing to talk with someone as honest as him. He’s authentic, unapologetically so.

“Hey so… can I ask you something?”

“You’ve been asking things this whole time,” he teases.

“I know, but… it’s technically a helmet question. And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

Mando hums and the rumble reverberates through your body, nesting warmly in your chest. He’s settled comfortably against you and it makes you feel close enough to ask what you want to ask. After thinking it over he gives you permission.

“Can’t wait to hear this,” he sighs with a little amusement.

You smile. To your surprise, he actually has a good sense of humor. A dry, blunt one . But humor nonetheless. You run a finger over the rim of your cup, finding a little more courage.

“Mando… Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

It’s a simple enough question, right? It’s within the ballpark of the topics you’ve been discussing. And you’re both adults. It’s not like it’s inappropriate…Right?

Oh god, you really are drunk…

Regret rises with each passing second and you wonder why you even brought it up. It’s probably some kind of insult to his creed to ask something like that. 

“Too much,” you broach gently.

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not exactly the first person to ask that. Doubt you’ll be the last.”

He pauses for a moment to find the right words. Then with a heavy exhale he gives you an answer to your insanely intrusive question.

“I was pretty young when I took the creed,” he states. “Ten, twelve maybe? Too young to be interested in those kinds of things. Never looked back since. To be completely honest, it’s not even something I really think about in adulthood. Never understood the hype.”

“Sooo, I’ll take that as a no.”

“No,” he breathes. “Never kissed anyone.”

Never kissed anyone? Never felt a person’s soft lips against his own or graze his skin? Does that mean he hasn’t gotten to experience more than kissing? Licking? Biting? Or…

Do not finish that thought…

“Huh… Well, that’s a shame,” you say without thinking, quickly adding “-but at the same time, I completely understand it too! I mean, it shows a lot of self discipline, you know? To resist that kind of… temptation. Most people don’t have any reason to be disciplined enough to stay chaste. I can admire tha-"

“I said I’ve never kissed anyone, I didn’t say I never fucked.”

Thank… the Maker… you’re not face to face. Because the way your eyes bulged just now would’ve been downright embarrassing had it been caught. He didn’t just say sex or even screwing. The Mandalorian fucks. The alcohol in your blood seems to conjure a brief glimpse of what that might look like before you find enough coherence to shew it away.

“…oh,” you breathe out, effectively stopping your rambling. “I-I guess I just assumed…”

A deep exhale blows out of his nose. He hums, seemingly entertained by the foot you’ve put in your mouth. But also making the air light between you.

“Well, you assumed wrong.”

The humor in his voice settles your nerves a bit. Thankfully there isn’t an awkward air at the sudden change to such a topic despite hardly knowing each other. And oddly enough, it feels easy to talk about it for that very reason.

“You’re rather chatty when you drink, Mandalorian. I feel like I’m learning all sorts of things about you tonight.”

“You’re right,” he breathes. “I spoke without thinking, I apologize.”

“No, It’s fine. I don’t mind at all. It’s a relief to know there’s a man under all that armor and not solid metal.”

He hums again and the noise stirs something in your chest.

“Well, even so… It’s late… Probably best if I stop drinking.”

You look into your empty cup. Then glance over to the bottle with barely a drop left inside. Something inside you wilts. There’s nothing to keep him here any longer…

“Yeah… Me too.”

You’re not sure if you wait for him to move first or if he’s waiting for you. But both of you remain still for nearly a whole minute. Silent and hesitant to end the night. As comfortable as it is, you feel Mando’s back lean away from yours and you miss the warmth. You turn on the floor to find him standing up as he adjusts his helmet clasp and places his empty cup on the table.

“You were right. It tasted better shared,” he admits. A satisfied smile curls your lips.

“If you learned anything about me tonight, Mando, it’s that I am always right when it comes to liquor.”

“I appreciate the hospitality.”

“I appreciate the company.”

You place a hand on the table as an anchor in an attempt to stand up and follow him to the door. But as you try to stand straight, the room spins and your knees buckle.

Nope. Not doing that.

You sit your ass right back down on that cushion before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Quick to respond, Mando catches your free arm. Making sure you land back down safely.

“You ok,” he asks, concerned but with a hint of humor.

“Pfft. Yeah, I’m good. I think I’ll just stay down here for a minute,” you chuckle, running a hand through your hair and closing your eyes for a moment.

For sure you’ll have a hangover tomorrow. Shit. You work tomorrow. There’s a couple things you’re running low on, too. You’ll have to request an order through the trading guild. That’ll cost credits. Maybe if you get that Chiss man again you can manage a trade and he can throw in those dried flower buds for that tea that keeps getting sold out.

You know you’re already a bit dizzy. But behind closed eyes you feel like your head is swaying. Or rather… that it’s being moved. Something warm and firm holds your jaw up and when your eyes flutter open again you’re met face to face with dark silver.

The Mandalorian stands barely a foot in front of you. Visor fixed down on your face. Maybe the wine has made your brain slow but it’s only when you follow the path from his shoulder and down his outstretched arm that you realize what’s holding your jaw… is his hand.

With a subtle pass of his thumb along your cheek you can feel warmth starting to pool in your face. Awareness pricks the hairs on the back of your neck when you realize your position. Sitting on your knees, face barely level to his waist as a wall of steel and muscle towers over you.

“Your cheeks get flushed when you drink,” he mutters.

When I drink. Suuuure.

“Now you know,” you mumble without thinking. It grants you a satisfied hum from his helmet and you feel it travel through your ears and under your skin.

“Now I know…,” he repeats.

There’s no movement, no words. But there’s something thick in the air. It’s heavy and enticing. It’d be so easy to get wrapped up in it with any sudden movement. You look up at him through half lidded eyes and you get a gut feeling that they’re meeting his. You’re not sure what his are giving away. But yours have to be hinting something you’ve been trying to hide all night.

With a sharp intake of air, Mando steps back and releases your face. Your head drops a little at the loss of support and it follows his direction as he walks towards the front door with quick, heavy steps. With a press of a button on the wall panel, the door panels slide open and just before he steps outside… he stops. Not looking back, just standing there at the edge of your home with his stand still resting on the doorway.

“Don’t invite me in again.”

And then he’s gone. The door panels shut swiftly, leaving you alone and more confused than when he showed up at your door.

…what?

•

Din wishes he could say that the first thing he thinks about when he got home that night was his sleeping kid safe in the crib. Or at the very least about how incredible that wine tasted. But after he undressed and collapsed down onto his bed half drunk, the only thought he couldn’t stop thinking about as he stared at the ceiling was…

Damn… it’s been a while.

For the past few years, Din’s life has flipped around a number of times. Between barely scraping by as a bounty hunter, saving an orphan kid from an imperial psychopath, losing said kid, then having him return and be by his side to reclaim the Mandalorian home-world, there’s not much time to indulge those kinds of needs. But just because Din found himself being a busy father later in life doesn’t make certain things dead.

No. Everything felt very much alive and kicking by the end of that bottle.

Behind closed eyes, his room feels like it swirls. After that wine, his body feels loose and relaxed. Something he rarely gets to experience these days. Images dance across his closed lids. Delicate, slender hands around a handmade cup. A pink flush on smooth skin. Plump tinted lips between his fingers, softly parted and begging to be touched. The intrusive impulse to dip a finger between those lips was so strong he could feel his hand move into the action before he could even think to do so.

All thanks to that one question. That simple, innocent question activated a deep part of his brain that lay dormant. And then he decided to shatter the care free atmosphere by with a crass remark about sex.

Never in his life has he regretted saying something so fast. You barely even know each other. Admittedly, Din isn’t exactly a refined person, far from it actually. But after his third glass, any semblance of manners flew right out the window. His mouth did the walking with little thinking involved.

Yet, you didn’t get uncomfortable. You handled the slip up with humor instead of getting offended or something just as bad. Using humor to make the air light again. It surprised him how easily you did it. How easy the conversation was all night, really. It’s not everyday he’s able to let his guard down with another person.

Once he was aware of that, he became aware of everything. How late the hour was, how drunk you both were, and how your bed was right behind where you both sat. Only separated by a simple room divider. Even when he tipped up his helmet, there was a heady herbal scent from you that kept swimming in his nose and it was just as intoxicating as the wine. He couldn’t trust himself to stay any longer. And now, in the safety of his own home, he finds himself preoccupied with a mountain of questions.

What kind of person are you? What’s your daily life like? What other places have you seen? What troubles you? You seem to be rooted here in Nevarro for the time being. But from what you’ve mentioned about your past, you have a kind of nomadic life. What happens if he… if the kid gets attached and you decide to move on to another planet? But then again, it’s not like he’s not one to talk though is he?

Loyalty. Solidarity. These are things that have been etched to his core since childhood. But giving those things to something that could be fleeting? That’s a risk he’s avoided for most of his life. Those kinds of wounds never heal.

But as much as he tries to distance himself, it’s not always in his control.

Three weeks go by and they couldn’t end soon enough. When he offered to work with Teva (or Blue as he usually calls him) on a case-by-case basis, he figured they’d be more involved than the bounty hunting trade. He’s spent up to a month off planet at times in order to capture a quarry so it’s not exactly new to him.

But that was when he had the Razor Crest. With a cot to rest in, a weapons locker, and supplies readily at hand. In that regard, the N-1 leaves much to be desired. Plus Din’s back isn’t what it used to be and long rides in that ship are killer. And to add insult to injury, this last case with Zeb was especially complicated to resolve. It left him and the kid completely drained.

After finally landing back in Nevarro with fresh credits, there is absolutely nothing Din wants more than to just go home, bathe, and sleep for at least a day. But he’s got a very hungry green mouth to feed and there’s no way Din is fixing up any dinner tonight.

Street food it is.

“Alright, we’re making this quick. In and out. I’ll get you as much food as you want and you can pick out one sweet. Not five. One. Got that?” Grogu tilts his head at Din curiously from where he follows behind on the cobblestone street and he’ll just take that as a yes.

Dozens of food stalls are gathered at the main square in town as he approaches. Adorned with all sorts of neon signs, string lights and colorful banners. It’s a busy atmosphere filled with people laughing, vendors calling out for customers to stop by, and sounds of clanking and sizzling as they cook.

Din gravitates towards the skewers stand. He knows Grogu is going to down ten of them by himself so he opts for something easy, filling, and cheap. He catches sight of those spicy chunks of fatty meat searing over lava coals and his mouth waters.

“Okay, which onesss-“

Din reaches down to pick up his son only to find the street bricks.

“-Sssshhhhit,” he hisses under his breath, glancing around. This fucking kid. He knows better than to run off.

The crowd is thick and it’s getting dark. He scans through the sea of people and vendors but doesn’t find that familiar pale green.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With a tap of his helmet side panel he switches to the tracking beacon screen. After enough scares like these he’s learned to have a tracker sewn into his clothes at this point.

Blinking red arrows come into his view and he follows the path. Not caring whose shoulders he budges or what food he knocks out of someone’s grip to get through. The red arrows turn yellow. He’s getting close but there’s still no visual of the kid and he’s starting to panic. He pushes through, scanning side to side and calling out his name in an orchestra of noises without reply.

Yellow turns to green and he’s still out of sight. He’s tiny and easy to miss. Grogu could be anywhere, he could be in any one of these stalls. What if he’s taken? What if someone else is tracking him? He could be picked up by a total stranger and taken away again.

Just as that thought crosses his mind, there’s a small separation in the crowd. Big floppy ears come into view and he’s definitely been picked up. But it’s no stranger that holds him.

“And here comes dad~” A voice soft as silk rings inside his helmet.

Relief floods his body as well as caution when he taps his screen clear. Only him. Situations like this only happen to him. It could’ve been Karga. It could’ve been anybody. But it had to be you that found him.

It was barely two minutes. But within those two minutes Din’s head flooded with every worst case scenario possible. And here he is. Happily babbling in your arms like he didn’t just give his dad a fucking heart attack.

“I know, I know,” you assure him like you can already tell where his head’s at, trying to speak over all the noise. “Don’t be too hard on the little guy. I already gave him a bit of a lecture for running around at night.”

Din wants to. It’s honestly his first reaction. But a cooler head prevails and he decides against it after a second thought. He reminds himself (once again) that Grogu is still young and that getting angry would only make things worse. What matters is that he’s safe and that he managed to find you.

“At least he won’t have to hear it twice,” he exhales, pushing out the stress sitting in his lungs. “Sorry about him.”

“No, no sorry needed. He’s smarter than he lets on. At least he ran to someone he knew. I’m glad I was around.”

Din opens his mouth to speak but ends up falling short with his words. Now that some of the stress has left his body, his eyes take you in at a second glance. Unclouded by the adrenaline.

Your hair is tied up with a pin with a few loose pieces falling at the nape of your neck and around your face. With the heat persisting into the night, you decided to wear a thin strap tank top that hangs low on your chest. It exposes miles of smooth skin, from your shoulders all the way down the arms wrapped around his kid. A dusty blue apron wraps around your waist over some baggy cargo pants so you must’ve came here right after work. There’s a glow from all the neon lights that adorns you and he has to will his mouth to move before he gets caught staring.

“Here.” He extends his hands to you. “I can take him back. Thank you for catching him. C’mon, bud. Let her get back to shopping.”

“It’s no problem,” you assure him with a smile. Your hands hooks under Grogus tiny arms and start to pull him off your torso. “Back to dad you go.”

But the moment he’s barely lifted, he cries out in protest with a shrill whine. Refusing to leave your side. You pull him back in instantly and run a soothing hand on his back.

“Oh! Okay, okay. You can stay with me for a minute,” you giggle in a sugary voice to Grogu. Bouncing him on your hip.

You both exchange a look of surprise (as much as his visor can give off anyway). What kind of person are you that Grogu prefers your embrace over his own father? He doesn’t know whether to be jealous or impressed.

But it’s getting late, they need to eat and get home and you probably need to get back to your own errands. Din’s hands extends again to take Grogu but you shake your head with a little smile. Letting him know it’s not an inconvenience to you.

“Here, wanna help me pick out some sweets?”

Grogu coos at your request, toying with the glittering silver chain pendant on your neck. You rest his kid on your hip effortlessly and the motion of it pinches something deep in Din’s chest. Turning to the assorted trays of sugared fruits on skewers, you list the various kinds for Grogu to pick out. Talking back with him like you can actually understand his little babbles. You answer him with “ooh, that’s a good choice” and “these are my favorites”. 

Din just stands aside, watching the way you both interact and it’s admittedly a bit pleasing to see how natural you are with him. Most people think he’s a pet at first glance. Karga treats him like a newborn. Talking gibberish and doting on him despite him handling a 50 year old. You, on the other hand, just treat him like a regular kid. And it’s refreshing to see.

His son’s head spins back at his father with the biggest set of sparkling inky eyes and Din can see the pleading question in them. He tilts his helmet at him and reminds him “one”. Those large ears deflate a little and you giggle at the interaction. Din offers to pay for your skewer along with Grogu’s as another thank you for looking after his son (again). The vendor gathers the treats in paper wrappers to take to go.

You turn to ask Din something, but it’s covered by the noise of yelling and cooking. He tilts his head a bit lower to try and catch what you’re saying. Then, without hesitation, your hand finds purchase on the pauldron on his shoulder. Prompting him to lean in closer to you so you can speak within earshot.

“It’s been a minute since I saw you last,” you remark with a raised voice. “Everything good?”

Shit.

For a second he freezes. Partly at the lack of distance between you, but mostly because the last time he saw you he stormed out of your place like it was on fire without so much as a goodnight. You’re probably wondering what the hell that was about and he honestly can’t answer that himself. Although your expression seems more cheerful than troubled. He crouches closer to your ears and replies with caution, hoping to avoid the direction of that conversation.

“Yeah, we’ve been um… traveling a lot lately. I get contracted by the new republic pretty often these days. Leaving him behind with someone whenever I’m off planet for too long doesn’t seem fair to him so he’s always by my side no matter what.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You usually stop by for medkit supplies so when I didn’t see you last week I figured you were away.”

Din mentally smacks his forehead. Right. Of course you meant the shop. Because what else would you be implying to a fucking customer? You’re just making small talk. Something he has never really gotten the hang of. Seems pretty damn easy when he’s drinking though…

“We actually just got back. Too tired to fix something up so I figured I’d grab us something quick and easy before heading home.”

“Ugh. I feel that. When I get home I’m crashing on the first soft surface I see,” you groan, still bouncing Grogu on the curve of your hip. Those hips…

No. Stop it.

“Busy day,” he asks and your eyes roll upwards.

“Busy week,” you exclaim. “I swear I think about quitting at least once a day. But I like it too much. Plus it’s the only thing I’m any good at. Otherwise I’d probably be some kind of criminal.” You pause then laugh at the thought before adding, “then you’d probably have to hunt me down, huh?”

That… is a scenario that he already knows is going to stick in his brain for a while. It’s such an enticing thought that he doesn’t bother to tell you he’s not in that business anymore. A tiny part of him would much rather have you think he’d chase you. Obviously you’re not serious, but he can’t help but lean into the joke.

“I don’t know,” he says unconvinced. “Might be pretty easy to find you. All I have to do is look wherever there’s street food.”

A laugh bubbles out of you and there’s a strange feeling that radiates in his chest at being able to make you laugh. Pride maybe? No, more like… satisfaction.

“Don’t underestimate me, Mando. I know my way around the outer rim. I’d make you work for it,” you say. Taunting him with a knowing smirk.

A smile tugs higher on his hidden face. The thought of you making him work for anything will no doubt be food for thought later. And instinct tells him that might’ve been your intention. But two can play at this game.

You’re already nearly face to face but he inches even closer, almost close enough for metal to meet skin. Ensuring you catch every word right into your ear.

“I’d like to see you try, Shop Girl.”

Your eyes grow a little wider at the sound of your nickname and he takes pleasure at just how effective it is. It’s another reminder of that night. A name that was spoken within an intimate atmosphere that only the two of you occupied. And by your expression, that same thought crosses your mind too.

You bite your bottom lip in a smile. The same lips that were between his hands. The only lips he can’t seem to forget. The shape, the color, and how fucking edible they look. He’s even noticed how they pout a little when you’re concentrated on a task. More questions surface.

What do they feel like? What do they taste like? What makes a kiss so good that everyone can recall their first?

The bubble created is suddenly burst by the outside world. The stall vendor gleefully hands over the candied fruit over the counter in their wrappers and you take them with your free hand. Handing the mixed one to Grogu because he couldn’t decide on just one flavor. Reality returns to Din’s head and his thoughts immediately sober up.

What the hell is he doing?

He tears his eyes away. Even if you can’t tell, looking at you like that for too long feels wrong. You’re a good person, you’re trying to live a normal life, and what you’ve told him you’re not looking to get involved in any drama. He has to keep reminding himself of those things.

That same instinct to leave hits him again. Because that urge to do something he can’t take back flares up again and it’s best to not give that feeling any more energy. For both your sakes. He gestures his hand in a hand-him-over motion, signaling to you and Grogu that it’s time to go.

“Alright, time to go kid. Say goodnight.”

Grogu whines with a mouthful of sweets and a face covered in sugar and it makes him chuckle to himself. Din would normally find the defiance a little cute, if it wasn’t for the stunt he pulled earlier. You carefully hand him over with both arms leaning in close and again he feels another pinch in his chest at how carefully you exchange him.

Your bare arms graze against his clothed ones and he pulls away the second he has hold of his kid. He ignores the small current of electricity from the contact and maneuvers Grogu into the crossbody bag to his hip. Which, of course, makes him protest.

“Nope. You had your chance. Now you get the bag.”

“Aw c’mon,” you scold “He was just playing around. Now he’s in bag jail?”

First the kid and now you? He can tell his son no, but it might be a little harder to tell you that.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe next time he’ll think twice about running off in a crowd,” he groans.

Once the kid is settled in the bag, you follow him down. Crouching down, you sit face to face with Grogu as he stuffs his face with the candied fruit. Resting your free hand on his fuzzy head as the other holds your own skewered treat.

“Kay, little rebel. Go stuff your face with some good food. And take it easy on your poor dad, alright? He’s not built for that kinda stress.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he asks, kind of amused by your ribbing. He can count on one hand the people who are undaunted enough to make playful jabs at him.

Your lips twist and your eyes take a tour up to your brows as you think of your reply.

“Hmm… just the way you get a little impatient sometimes. You were like that when you brought him over and paced my living room for an hour,” you chuckle. “You seem like the kind of man who gets antsy when something’s not in your control.”

A smile threatens to crawl his face. Pretty presumptuous. But he can’t deny how true that statement rings. Especially nowadays when it’s not just himself he has to worry about.

“Maybe so,” he replies with a hint of humor in his voice. “Patience isn’t really my strong suit. Although this one seems to enjoy testing it.”

“Patience is bitter,” you muse as you rub the top of Grogu’s head with your thumb. He coos with delight and the softest gaze glows on your face. Then from your crouched position, your eyes glance back up at Din and add, “…But the fruit is sweet.”

His jaw flexes beneath his helmet, and heat now courses through his veins.

That can’t be a good sign. He already enjoys your banter too much as it is. But that look just now was dangerous. It dredges up thoughts he shouldn’t have about you. Thoughts like kissing someone he barely knows. Feeling skin on skin. Showing you what a man like him can do to you compared to the boys of your past.

He saw it all over your pretty face when he held it in his hand. That flush on your cheeks, your dilated pupils. Hell, he even saw your heat signature rising in his helmet screen for fuck sake. There’s an attraction and that’s fine (and not completely unreciprocated) but it can’t be anything more than that.

You and him live completely different lives. There’s no need to uproot your peace and get involved in his complicated affairs. Even if something happened, it wouldn’t be long before the allure of the suit and mystery people usually perceive of Mandalorians would turn into repulsion.

That’s how it’s gone before. That’s the way it is.

•

You’re a bad person. A horrible human being and a shameless lowlife. Downright beyond saving.

I’d like to see you try, Shop Girl.

The damn sentence won’t stop replaying in your head. It’s not just a nickname. It’s a nickname he gave you. One that’s covered in underlying context and memories that only the two of you share. One that peppers your skin with goosebumps when it comes out of that raspy modulated voice. It’s even worse when your brain starts intrusively placing it in all sorts of sentences.

That’s it, Shop Girl…

You’re doing so well, Shop Girl…

Bend over for me, Shop Girl…

That last one has crawled into your dreams more often than you’d care to admit lately.

You need to get a grip. It’s just an attraction. You’ve been alone for too long and you’re getting all wound up over a smidge of attention. He’s just a regular decent person with a kid to take care of who also just happens to have an amazingly muscular body and a voice of sin. Simple as that.

Right. Simple.

After that night at the food stalls, the Mandalorian and Grogu have been visiting your humble Clinic Shop on a more frequently. Usually you'll see them a couple times a week if they're not on one of their long haul trips. Missions? Jobs?

It's not like Mando has any reason to let you know ahead of time. But when a week or so passes with no sign of silver or green, you can't help but feel a little down. You've come to look forward to seeing your regulars. But they grown to being your favorite customers.

And if you're being honest, theres a growing part of you that feels tied to the man in silver beskar. When he's here, the part blossoms. And when he's gone, it feels... wilted. It's unexpected and confusing to say the least. The closest feeling you could label it is homesickness. And truthfully, you're not really sure if you want to feel such a heavy thing towards anybody right now.

There's a lull in the store this hot muggy afternoon. You've already finished your prescription orders, restocked your shelves, even watered all the potted plants outside the entrance. Since you finally have some down time, you figured you might as well get to making some of your popular tea mixes.

On the back counter, you have a variety of dried herbs, flower buds, tea leaves, and a few large mixing bowls. The scent in the shop is incredible right now. Swirling around on the wind propelled by the metal fans around the shop. Spiced and aromatic with a hint of fruitiness. You let the smell fill your lungs and relax your body as you place measured scoops of the mix into small paper bags. A bead of sweat tracks down the back of your neck. Even with pinning your hair up and the strapless wrap you chose to wear today, the heat of the day still clings to your damp skin.

A cool glass of that Andoan wine would be so good right about now...

Maybe it was instinct, or maybe there really is some kind of invisible tie. But something makes your head tilt to the side and glance at the open entrance. And it's then that a glint of sliver light reflects on the stucco walls. A flutter of anticipation strikes through your chest and your eyes are locked at the entrance. Then, that familiar Silver T-visor and a pair of floppy green ears peek around the corner.

The smile that spreads across your cheeks is so big it almost hurts.

"Hey," you exclaim from the back of the store. You leave your station and excitedly make your way across the store to the pair as they step inside.

“It’s been a whi-“

“Ah ah, sorry," you cut Mando off mid greeting, halting him with your pointer finger. "Grogu gets first dibs.”

Mando shakes his head but you can tell he's humored. Turning his hip to the side and giving you access to the canvas crossbody where Grogu resides.

“Even though I'm a regular customer," Mando retorts.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that sounded a teensy bit like jealousy. You smirk, giving eyes only to the little green baby.

“Not when you’re as cute as him.” You say, placing Grogu on your hip and giving him little scritches on his wrinkled head.

“Isn’t that right, Kid. Mando wishes he could be half as cute as you.” The child coos at you and Mando shakes his head. But you can tell by his body language that he's at least a little amused.

You walk back to the back counter with the kid in your arms and Mando in tow behind you. And the feeling you have in this moment is oddly... domestic? You're not entirely sure if that's the right word. In your life you've never experienced domesticity. But you figure it's similar to that homesick feeling you get.

You place Grogu on top of your station and pull out an herbal lollipop from your apron for him. You like to keep a few handy for kids and they also help with coughs. The kids inky eyes gleam as he babbles and plunges the sugary candy in his mouth. 

"Any chance that delivery for those new Pharmakits arrived yet," Mando asks, leaning a hand on the counter next to you.

"They did," you nod. "Any chance you're planning on taking on an army on your next trip?"

He shrugs, tilting his helmet to the side in that way he does when he's being aloof.

"Doesn't hurt to keep one on hand. You never know."

You hum in acknowledgment but inside a pit forms in your stomach. The danger he faces whenever he goes on these "jobs" isn't lost on you. Lately, it's been on the back of your mind more often than not. On his last visit, when he asked about ordering stronger meds and triage supplies, it hit you just how much his long absences affect you. And just the thought of never seeing him or his little boy again stirs up something vile inside.

“You seem to be busy today,” he remarks, pointing out all the open jars and mixing bowls with various dried leaves and herbs.

His remark takes you out of your thoughts. You must've been silent a second too long for him to change the subject like that. With a deep inhale and slight embarrassment you shrug off the negative thoughts and ground yourself back to reality.

“Yes and no. I’ve been restocking while it’s dead to keep busy.”

He leans in a bit to get a closer look at the contents of the bowl. Close enough for you to catch the scent of smoke and musk on his clothes.

“You’re mixing… tea?”

You hum a yes and nod.

“Tea can be used for lots of medicinal purposes. Many people prefer natural remedies to pharmaceutical ones. I try to have a mix of both.”

“So this is medicine?” You sway your head to the side, trying to think of the best way to explain the purpose of the tea.

“Kiiind of. You could say it’s preventative.”

“What does it prevent?”

“Pregnancy.”

A clearing of his throat follows your answer. You turn toward him with a smirk and a raised brow but his visor has now turned away your face.

Most fearsome bounty hunter in the outer rim, everybody.

“You asked, man,” you chuckle with a shrug.

“Guess that’s on me,” he says.

“This is actually one of my best sellers,” you tell him. You grab the wooden scoop and raise up the floral mix, letting the various petals and herbs rain back down into the bowl. The motion makes the sweet scent drive up in the air. “I have customers tell me they don’t leave the house before their daily brew.”

“I’m glad business is going well for you,” he deflects, making you fold your smile in your teeth. And suddenly your brain sees a prime opportunity.

“You know, Mando…,” you drawl as you mix the petals. “If you’re ever in a pinch and you need some, I could give you a sample.” The way his helmet jerks to face you almost breaks your nonchalant smile.

“That’s um… very generous but it’d be wasted on me.” His body straightens stiffly and you can tell the topic makes him a bit uneasy. But you press on anyway.

“You sure? You can never be too safe. I’m sure any visitors would appreciate it.” He sighs deeply and turns away, shaking his head in annoyance.

God, this is too much fun. Teasing him is so easy. If it wasn’t for the helmet you bet he’s sweating right now. He might look cool and collected. But after drinking with him, you know there’s in fact a man under all that metal.

“I’m sure,” Mando confirms. “I'm not seeing anyone at the moment.”

And there’s the answer you’re looking for.

Was it a bit sneaky? Yeah. Yeah, it was sneaky. But it rules out the theory that reason he told you not to invite home again was because he’s currently taken. It’s still an enigma as to why. But honestly there’s still the gut feeling that you did something to make him uncomfortable that night.

Maybe you crossed a line with one of your questions. You tend to ask a lot of questions. Your filter also isn’t everybody’s flavor. Even so, you had a great time talking, even joking around with him. You’ve come to cherish that night in your memory. And the thought that you obliviously might’ve said something to offend Mando in any way makes your chest ache.

But if that was the case then why has he been stopping by your store more frequently since then? He always says he’s restocking his med kit but you get the feeling there’s more to it than that. Almost as if he’s checking up on you. Making sure you’re doing ok. And above all, that’s what scares you.

It’s scares you how good that thought makes you feel.

“Picking up an order!” An unfriendly voice bellows from the entrance where a Trandoshan man in fine robes stands waiting. “Name’s Samir T’ar.”

It takes a second to snap back into action. But you slap on your best customer service smile and leave your task for later. Rounding the corner past Mando and the kid and walking to the Medicine Cabinet. Wiping the non-existent dust on your hands on your waist apron.

“Hi, yes! I’ll grab that for you right now.”

The Trandoshan stands waiting at the counter as you sort through the assorted orders in the glass case. Looking for the right name tag and plucking the tied linen bag. You dont turn your eyes toward him, but Mando’s pressance is all your body is aware of. You can tell he’s miandering through the shop, looking at various items on the shelves. Which, to you, is a bit funny since hes been here plenty of times by now.

Is he playing the curious customer right now because there’s someone here?

You rest the tied bag next to the register as you run the total. All while the Trandoshan taps his clawed fingers impatiently on the check out counter.

“‘Kay with the compounded medicine and the herbal soak salts, that puts you at… fifteen credits today.”

“It was twelve the last time.”

“Yyyeesss, some of the ingredients for the meds were hard to come by this time around. Outer rim shipping routes, and all that,” you smile, trying to humorously reason with the man.

“And that’s supposed to be my fault? Just make it the same price as before and I’ll be on my way already.”

Ugh, great. One of those.

“I understand where you’re coming from, really. But fifteen is pretty fair considering the initial cost of acquiring ingredients of this high quality. Can’t beat the price compared to those New Republic clinics-"

“Nonononono," he waves with both hands in disapproval. “I’m not paying a single credit more for something I can make myself.”

That’s kind of the point of it buying here, right? To save yourself the trouble of making it?

“Sorry. Price is firm," you say confidently but kindly. "Buuut, how about if I throw in a couple sample heating pain patches. Free of charge,” you chirp, unfazed by his condescension.

Work with me, guy. There’s a man packing heat in the back…

“How about I give you ten for the order and leave? I don’t need you to peddle your-“

It’s a hand that shuts him up. Not yours, as much as it twitches to swipe that bag and toss in it the trash. No. This hand is big. Leather clad. And planted firmly on the counter between you and the customer.

“You can pay the fifteen or you can leave. But what you won’t do,” Mando leans in towards the Trandoshan for effect. “-is talk to her like that again. Make your choice.”

With his chest pressed to the back of your shoulder, you struggle to not squirm. You can feel his heat on your body. His frame eclipses yours from behind. The smell of gun smoke and musk caresses your nose and you die a little inside. But it’s his words that make you want to melt into a puddle.

He didn’t just ask, he demanded for you to be treated with respect. Not that you can’t hold your own when it comes to defending yourself against snarky customers. But the way Mando didn’t even hesitate to intervene on your behalf. It stirs up all sorts of thoughts.

Oh maker, you really are a shitty person. The man stands up for you and all you can think about is how hot he sounded.

The Trandoshan swallows hard. Mando might as well a knife to the guy’s throat with the look of silent terror on his reptilian face. Without even breaking eye contact with Mando, he stuffs his clawed hand in his pockets, and pulls about 20 credit chips without counting. Letting them clatter on the counter as he tosses them.

“H-here,” he stutters. “Fifteen is fair.” With that he snatches his order from the countertop and makes a hasty exit.

“Have a nice day~,” you sing-song as he scurries out onto the street.

You shift your eyes up to Mando, his palm still pressed flat against the counter with his other hand thumbing his belt. His visor follows the customer as he leaves and you can tell that his body language doesn’t relax until the he’s completely out of sight.

“Fucker…,” he mutters under his breath. When he finally turns his visor to you, he finds a knowing little smirk on your face.

“What?”

“You know, if you really wanted to scare him, you could’ve just pulled out your blaster.”

His visor turns away and he takes a step back as if he’s been caught doing something out of character. And if it wasn’t for his confident stance, you’d almost say he got a little flustered just now.

“I didn’t like the way he spoke you,” he grumbles. Which only makes you giggle.

“You’re right,” you agree with a serious tone. Slamming your palms on the counter. “That’s the last straw! I’ll have to close and resort to a life of crime after all!”

Although you can’t read his face, his body language says it all. He tilts his head to the side in a way that can only mean “are you fucking kidding me” and it only makes you smile harder.

“C’mooon, it’s funny,” you say. But he’s still not charmed.

“Does he always treat you like that,” he asks like he needs to know for certain.

You fold your lips between your teeth to hide your smile. He’s concerned for you and you can’t help but bathe in it. At least for a little bit.

“And if I said yes?”

“I’m being serious.”

“It’s fine, Mando. It’s really not a big deal for me. Look, if I let every snippy customer get to me, I wouldn’t have a business. I’m a big girl. I can fight for my honor all on my own, don’t you worry.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yeah? What is your point then?”

He steps in closer. Forcing you crane your neck to face him. Your backside unconsciously presses against the back of the counter and you’re pinned. He’s impossibly close. Close enough to see your eyes reflected on the inky black screen. Knowing he’s captured your full attention, he hits you with a bombshell that devastates you.

“I wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you when I can do something about it,” he says crystal clear, lowering  his voice. “If someone gives you trouble, they’ll deal with me before they mess with you... Understand?”

That shuts you right up. Your playful expression falls, now replaced with silent astonishment. He keeps saying things that reach deep inside you, making your chest tight. Words like that make it hard to breathe.

You feel utterly captured and it’s no wonder he was the best hunter in the outer rim. Because even though he’ll defend your honor and call you sweet nicknames… all he has to do is stand his ground in front of you to make you feel like prey. And fuck, do you wanna be caught…

“Ok,” you breathe when you find the courage. “I understand now.”

“Good…”

Silence streches between you and it feels as though you’re both waiting for something to happen. Something that feels like it’s been teetering on the edge since the night you drank together. It’s connected and deep in a way you’ve never experienced before. You can tell it’s something he’s afraid to say out loud.

What you’re both afraid to say out loud.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t add anything to his statement. He’s got you locked in his gaze with no escape. And for a moment you wonder if he’ll take hold of your jaw again. Goosebumps rise to your skin because it wants so badly to close the gap.

Suddenly, a call rings from the vambrace on Mando’s forearm, abruptly breaking the tension. At first he hesitates to address it, still locked onto you. But after the second ring he lets out an aggravated sigh and steps away to check the incoming call.

You walk back to your work table and mixing bowl of tea to give yourself something to do while your breathing returns to normal. Scooping a measured cup from a large jar of dried leaves before adding it in.

Grogu sits with his little feet dangling over the table, now finished with the lollipop and looking at the candy-less stick with droopy ears. And before Mando turns to look, you sneak his son another herbal lollipop from your apron.

"Don't tell your dad," you whisper, pressing your index finger over your lips. Which earns you a happy little "Batu" in understanding.

Mando is pacing around now. Conversing with a gruff sounding Lasat. You don’t eavesdrop per se, but words like “new lead”, “investigation”, and “high-risk” get your ears to perk up.

“Shit,” he sighs deeply once the call is done. Planting his hands on his hips.

“Work call?”

“They like to keep me busy, that’s for sure. Best not keep them waiting.”

“R-right! The pharmakits."

You walk towards side of your shop in the back closet where your new inventory sits in their delivery crates. Grabbing one case but then after a second thought grabbing another before turning back and handing them to Mando. When you return Grogu is already back in his father's tote still nursing his treat.

“Couple things," you disclaim, handing the cases to him. "Keep these in a dark cool place if you can. Heat can spoil some of the medicine. And if you ever find yourself needing the epibacta, I’d advise you to take in a safe place. This dose will knock you out cold for a while. Emergencies only.”

He takes the cases by the handles and gives you a nod of understanding.

“I appreciate it. I’ll try to avoid needing it.”

“Just… be safe.”

“I will…”

Another beat of silence. At this point it's starting to feel like you're waiting on the other person to break the ice. But after a moment, he clears his throat.

“Well... Until next time, Shop Girl.”

“Until next time,” you repeat.

He really should stop calling you that. But you just can’t bring yourself to stop him. What do even tell him if he asks why?

You turn to the holopad on the front counter and check the inventory list to give your hands something to do. Chewing your bottom lip as walks towards the exit. One step, then another…

“And thank you,” you quickly add before he steps out. His foot stalls just before reaching the street and you tap on the screen pretending not to notice. Your eyes glance up to him, catching his helmet peer at you over his shoulder “…for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” he says softly. He step out into the street and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You lean on the counter with your chin propped in your palm, now free to watch them go without notice.

Grogu turns back to look at you one last time, his tiny arm fighting against the fabric of his bag before popping out and waving at you. The adorable gesture makes you giggle. The little guy must know exactly how stinking cute he is. You wiggle your fingers back at him from behind the counter. Mando takes notice of his kid, turns his head back, and finds your gaze.

For a moment, everything’s frozen. People cross and mix in the street between you. Life seemingly goes on like any other day for everyone in town. But in your eyes, there’s only him. Only bright silver fills your vision. After a moment, Mando raises a hand for a final farewell, and in the next, he’s gone. Blended into the crowd.

An ache spreads in your chest, and that confirms it. You can’t deny that what you’ve been pushing down for months isn’t just an attraction. Strangers can be attracted to each other but he feels like anything but.

You like him. You like how you feel when he’s around and how safe his presence feels. You like that little skipped beat you get when something you said earns even the smallest chuckle from him. You like that he trusts you around his kid.

And you love that he keeps coming back.

You’ve tried to rationalize as just a simple customer acquaintance. But you can’t keep kidding yourself. Its always felt more than that. And you want to know more about him.

At the end of the day, you roll down the metal doors of your humble apothecary and walk the same 15 steps up to your home as you do everyday. You bathe, put on your most comfy shirt and sleep shorts, make yourself a simple meal, and wind down for the night. It’s been your routine everyday since you made this place your home.

Only tonight, despite all your trinkets, all your memories, and all your comforts, tonight your home feels a bit empty. Like something important has been removed and you can’t place what it was. With your dinner bowl in hand, you almost take your seat on the couch before thinking twice on it and choosing the floor of your living room instead tonight.

You actually find it to be pretty comfortable. More grounding. You only wish you had something warm to lean back on.

•

Din thought Guild Master Greef Karga had an inflated ego. But High Magistrate Greef Karga makes that Karga look like a Jedi monk.

He finds himself sitting on a leather chase with his legs propped on the window ledge in Karga’s high tower office. He watches him spread and maneuver a 3D hologram model of Nevarro and the town. His voice filled with ambition as he explains all his new projects for the upcoming year.

“We’ll put the lodges here, here, and here. They’ll have access to the hot springs in the crawling canyons and docks will be built around the water edges. I’ve spoken with that lovely Twi’lek bathhouse owner and she’s spending her best architects to Nevarro as a personal favor to me. It’s going to be the jewel of the rim I tell you!”

Much of the dialog goes over Dins head. Mostly because he’s dead tired and currently operating on less than four hours of sleep. They only landed a couple hours ago from another grueling mission. He partly listens to Karga’s plans, partly watches Grogu quietly sit on the hologram table as he stuffs his mouth with blue cookies his “uncle” has given him. But mostly, Din gazes out one of the many windows in his 360 degree office. Watching the sun set over the canyons and turn the sky a dusty pink.

The shiny bronze protocol droid shuffles around the office with a silver tray with two crystal glasses of spotchka. He offers a glowing glass to Karga who gladly takes it. Then the droid starts to approach Din with the platter, offering him a glass as well.

“Uh no no, he doesn’t drink,” Karga quickly corrects, taking a momentary pause from his plans. The shiny droid fumbles a bit, flustered, then offers an apology before scuttling away with the tray.

Mando doesn’t even bother to correct them. Too much energy. It’s true, he’s never accepted alcohol in front of Karga. Especially in those early guild days when trust was low. But even to this day, Din doesn’t drink around people.

Well… most people, that is.

An image of last time Din saw you pops into his head. That thick, slightly mussed hair tied up with a hair stick. Dewy skin. All smiles and laughter. You wore a deep blue torso wrap that time, His eyes kept following the lines of your collar bones and all that exposed skin seemed to glow in the reflected sunlight in the shop.

And those lips. Those goddamn pink tinted lips that he can’t get out of his head. If that’s not the definition of beauty he doesn’t know what is.

Your teasing is something he’s growing used to. But that day you pushed too far. You weren’t taking him seriously and you shouldn’t be the only one who gets to tease, right? When he cornered you against the counter, he made it known just how serious he was about defending you. That flush came back to your cheeks and your breathing had picked up. You had no idea, but your eyes had found his and it made heat pool in his lower abdomen as he got lost in the color of them.

In that moment, Din wrestled back the impulse to lift you up on that countertop, spread those perfect legs and-

“-Right, Mando?” Karga’s voice interrupts just as that train of thought was getting good. Din turns his visor over to him.

“Hmm?”

“You just agreed to let the kid spend the night here.”

“Right. Yeah,” Din scoffs. “Was that before or after I sold my ship to the Jawas,” he replies in a gruff tone. Karga doesn’t find the sarcasm amusing.

“Alright, alright.”

“Maybe I’ll sell them my armor while I’m at it.”

“I get it,” he exclaims. “You weren’t even listening! I was talking about the space port proposal and I can’t even tell where you clocked out. That's not like you, Mando.”

“I’m tired. I just got back from a long trip.” Kargas eyes glance between Din and the window he's been looking out from.

“I wouldn’t say tired. More like… Distracted.”

He says the word with an insinuation Din would rather do without.

“It’s nothing,” he deflects.

“Hey, you know me, Mando. I’m not one to judge,” Karga says, throwing his hands in the air. “If there’s anything on your mind I’m all ears. Money, politics, work, women-“

“There’s nothing to discuss. I’m fine," Din deadpans.

Kargas covers Grogus ears, who is too preoccupied by his munching to mind.

“Sounds like you need to get laid.”

Maker...

“You’re sordid,” he grumbles, shaking his head and turning back to the window. Karga just laughs. Amusement written all over his wrinkled face.

The arguments were one of the main things that changed between them over the last few years. Now they bicker like two old friends instead of two business associates. But one thing that has never changed is the way Karga tries to pressure him into revealing things out of him. Imperfectly human things.

He’d offer Din all sorts of things like spice or Twi’lek bathhouses just to see if he was capable of being tempted. And right now… there’s only one other person Din can think of capable of doing that.

“You know what I think? I think you’re starting to outgrow this lone wolf lifestyle of yours,” he speculates. “You’re a father now. Don’t you think the little one needs a mother?”

Dins helmet swivels back to Karga.

“Don’t you think you should stick to governing your town?”

“I was just getting to that," Karga exclaims excitedly. "You know we really should consider moving a few of the-“

“Here we go…,” Din sighs to himself.

What should’ve been a quick visit has turned into a one sided yap session. It’s been a couple weeks since he left and he’s eager to re-supply for his next run with Zeb. He’ll need to head to the square at some point as well. His home is in desperate need of a re-stock. And of course, a visit to the clinic probably wouldn’t be a bad idea if he’s already in the area.

Even from up here, your store can be seen at the far corner of the plaza. And every couple minutes, he can see you. Popping in and out of the small store and rearranging some of the potted plants outside. People greet you from the street and you turn to wave back.

It’s getting harder and harder to find excuses to go there that sound necessary. Last time he was there he picked up two new pharmakits, even though another two regular medkits sit unopened in his home. He’s been buying that energy tea you make, despite him being a kaf drinker his whole life. He keeps going back for shit he really doesn’t need. But if he was pressed to give a better reason, it’s mostly because he feels a need to check on you.

True, Nevarro has become significantly safer, but that doesn’t make it safe. Especially for a woman living completely on her own. You’re a kind hearted, giving person in a galaxy that does nothing but take. And someone like that should be protected. He’s looked the other way too many times in the past and he doesn’t want to be that person anymore. And plus the kid enjoys the visits.

Sure, the kid. Keep telling yourself that, Din…

A chiss man with a floating pallet of goods approaches your shop entrance and your attention turns from watering the plants to greet the vendor with a bright smile. You speak animately. And it would normally be endearing, if it wasn't directed towards another man. In the privacy of his helmet, Din grimmaces.

He shouldn’t be surprised. You’re well traveled, knowledgeable. It’s no wonder you’re able to buy products from so many places. But this particular vendor is getting a bit too close for Din’s comfort.

As usual, you talk with much enthusiasm. Sparking a conversation with the man. It’s clear you’re familiar with each other by the body language you both give off. And he’s not sure if it’s because you regularly get inventory from the man, or something beyond that.

You turn around on the balls of your feet to dip back inside the shop and as you do you’re completely oblivious to the way the Chiss’s head tilts to the side so his crimson eyes can roam your backside. And the only reason Din caught it was because the binocs in his visor seem to have unconsciously been turned on by his finger on his vambrace.

You return to with a small wooded box and open the lid to show him mineral salts, the kind he’s seen you make herbal soaks with. The vendor offers a large lidded glass jar of some kind of dried purple flower buds from his cart. With the added exchange of some credit chips, there’s more talking and smiling. Something he said makes you laugh as you sign his holopad and Din has to flex his fingers to stop them from clenching into a fist.

Enough. Stop watching.

The mental check forces Dins attention to shift back to whatever Karga keeps droning on about. You can associate with whoever you damn well please. It’s none of his concern who you do business with or what your personal life is like. Din nearly turns his visor away. But out of the furthest corner of his eye, he catches something he can’t tear away from.

The distance between the Chiss and you has suddenly shrunk. The moment unfolds in slow motion as his eyes chew on every second. The Chiss steps closer to lean down then…

Din’s arms uncross when the Chiss leans in close to your face. And before he knows it, the fucker plants a quick peck on your cheek. And you return it! The whole exchange lasts less than a second before you wave each other goodbye and he goes his separate way. You return inside with the product like nothing and Din sits there, completely rattled.

What… the fuck?

Was it a casual kiss? Did you even know that he was checking you out? If you did, was that a friendly goodbye gesture or was it flirtatious? That son of a bitch gets to walk around with bliss on his cheek all day now. Oddly enough, that’s what puts Din over the edge. A complete fucking stranger knows how your lips feel and he doesn’t.

Never in his life has he harbored thoughts like these. It’s downright pathetic. He feels corrupted.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself beneath his breath.

“-Anyway, back to my point. I was considering having a port built for- hey!”

Before Karga has a chance to monologue further, Din has picked up his son from the edge of the desk—grubby hands still clinging to the bag of cookies—and has placed him right into Karga arms.

“I need you to watch over him for the night. I’ll come back for him in the morning.”

“Okay then? Fine by-.” Din doesn’t bother to listen because there’s no ending to that sentence that matters to him in this moment. He makes his exit, the slide doors opening as he nears them.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going all puffed up like that?”

“I need to settle something,” he tosses back before letting the doors shut behind him.

The sun is getting low and a few other vendors are starting to take down their signs and close their doors. You’re probably getting ready to close up for the day yourself. Hopefully he’s able to catch you before then.

Each step on the cobblestone is heavy with purpose. And it's not unoticed the way several people on the street see an armor clad Mandalorian and scurry out of his way with a petrified look on their faces. But right now he doesn't particularly care. Right now everything in his head is clouded with the exception of one objective.

From a couple stores away, you catch him approaching from your peripheray. And he's not sure how to describe it, but it's like something in your body language softens when you see him. Your shoulders become less tense, your eyes gleam, and you cast him that bright toothy smile that could stop any man's heart.

“Ah! Hey! It’s been a while, Mando! How’s-“

“I need to have a word with you.”

Both your expression and your hand freeze momentarily in place, minus a suspicious quirk in your brow.

“Okaaay, you have my attention,” you chuckle, but there’s a nervous tone riding on it. “What can I do for you today?

“I need to speak with you," you tells you bluntly. "Privately.”

Confusion paints across your face and your smile falls a bit. Understanding how serious his request is.

“Like, right now,” you ask hesitantly.

“Preferably, yes,” he answers.

“Ok, yeah sure. Um… I’m just about to close up and we can head upstairs in a minute.” You start to turn away but then quickly turn back to him and immediately add “or we can go somewhere you’re more comfort-“

”It’s fine,” Din quickly interjects, stopping that train of thought. “This won’t take long anyway.”

You blink at him a couple times and give him a quiet “ok then” before turning around and preparing your shop to close.

Seems that Din’s command from his last visit was taken seriously. Regret over those words washes over him. If he’s being honest, being inside your home again sets off several red lights in his head. But he’s already on the verge of blurting out something teetering on the edge of his brain. Better to wait until he’s behind closed doors and away from any prying eyes. Or flirtatious vendors. This shouldn’t be complicated. He’ll make it quick.

He decides to wait around the corner of the shop where the stone steps meet your front door. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed and his finger nervously tapping his arm brace. After a few minutes you round the corner with your bag over your shoulder and lead the way into your home. Instinctively, he looks around for any eyes before entering and closing the door behind him.

“So where’s your boy,” you ask, tossing your bag on the couch and walking towards the kitchen. “I have to say I’m kind of surprised not to see him on your hip. You seem inseparable.”

Your voice is chipper but he can tell by your stiff body and lack of eye contact that you’re not entirely comfortable. For a moment Din reconsiders this encounter. But no. The sooner he this bug out of his system the better.

“He’s… spending the night with a friend,” he answers. Grabbing one of those ceramic cups from the cabinet, you fill it with water from the sink and he’s starting to think that you’re only doing that to keep your hands busy.

“Aaww, a sleepover? Is it his first-”

“If you don’t mind,” he cuts off. “I’d like to get to my point.”

“Oh… Y-yes, I'm sorry. I’m rambling,” you say sheepishly. “I’m just…,” you take a deep breath, rest the cup of water on the counter, and lean back against it. Eyes fixed to the floor.

“…it’s just what you said the last time you were here. And the way you approached me earlier, you seemed kinda… I don’t know, upset? I know you don’t wanna be here so I’m wondering what I did to upset you that you’d come here.”

Damn it… He’s such an asshole.

He should’ve never said that. You've been thinking this entire time that you’re at fault for his shitty social skills. Truthfully, with the way that wine had his head so deliciously foggy, he had to leave before his body did something it was aching to do, begging him to do. But how does he even begin to explain that?

“You didn’t do anything,” he answers immediately. But thinks on it once more. “Well… technically you did. But I’m not upset with you.”

“You’re not,” you ask him sheepishly.

“I’m not,” he assures.

A beat passes in silence as you chew over his words.

“Okaaay,” you say with a smirk, “now you really got my attention.”

That mischievous tone travels through Din’s helmet, in his ears, and settles warmly in the pit of his stomach. Something about the combination of your sweet voice and relaxed shift in your body language makes this whole interaction even more nerve wracking.

“Sooo, you wanted to talk to me about something I did?”

“Right.”

“Okay, sooo...” He feels you urging him to continue but now Din finds himself more cautious of his words now. If you’ve been silently worried about offending him the last thing he needs is for this to come off wrong way.

“It’s… a bit hard to explain,” he exhales. If he could pinch his brow right now he would. “To put it plainly, the night we drank together, you said something that’s been… stuck in my head.”

“Was it the thing about the name?”

“N-no.”

“Was it the Pantora story?

“No.”

“Was it the comment about knowing my liquor? Because I like a drink from time to time but I don’t have like a problem or anything-“

“No- Can I finish,” he asks impatiently.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Go ahead.”

“When we were drinking, and talking… we said a lot of things and got into some deep conversations. And at one point, you asked me if I ever kissed anyone before. I said no back then because… I've never given it any thought in the past. But now it’s got me… curious.”

Your quirk your brow at him.

“Curious how?”

“I want to know what it’s like,” he answers plainly.

“… Sorry, what?”

“I need this… curiosity out of my head. It’s driving me crazy and I need it out of my system. So I figured… since you’re the one who mentioned it in the first place, you can help me kill it.”

“You’re… Okay so, hold on…,” you say with a shaky breath. “Are you… asking me to kiss you?”

“That’s… an oversimplification. But yeah.”

“You’re asking me to be your first kiss? Am I understanding you right?”

Maker, you ask a lot of questions. Are you always like this? You did the same exact thing when he gave you the wine. On any other day it would’ve been endearing but he didn’t anticipate the conversation lasting longer than a minute. Now his request sounds more and more lecherous with each passing second.

“I won’t bother you again after this. You have my word. It’s completely casual. Just killing a curiosity.”

“There’s a preeetty common phrase about curiosity and loth cats that goes differently.” A giggle tumbles out of your mouth on the tail end of that sentence and humility crawls under his skin.

“Sorry to waste your time.” He starts to turn towards the nearest exit when you step in to stop him. Placing a hand briefly on his arm in the space between his armor and the contact sends a current of electricity up his spine.

“No wait, don’t be like that,” you toy with him.

“I’m not laughing,” he spits. But you still have the nerve to giggle.

“It’s okay, Mando,” you laugh assuredly.

“No, it’s not. It’s ridiculous. I hate it. I hate that you put this in my head.”

You fold your lips between your teeth to try to hide your amusement. But you still can’t help but crack a smile a little at his frustration. He basically just confessed to having this obsession for months and he can tell by your smug expression that you’re enjoying how incredibly uncomfortable he is about this.

“You’re right. I’m… sorry,” you say under your breath. Trying to fix your face.

There’s a beat of silence. Stepping in closer, he tilts his head down to you. Locking you in his gaze. He takes pleasure in being nearly a full head taller and the way your breathing picks up before he says in a low gruff voice…

“No, you’re not.”

You smile behind your hand as your eyes dance across his visor, unknowingly locking eyes with the man beneath. You know you’re not sorry, just like he knows he’s not particularly sorry either. It’s not just this moment. It goes back to every interaction you’ve had together. The banter, the nicknames, the visits. He’s as much to blame as you are. And then… you slowly you shake your head, agreeing with him and confirming his suspicion.

Fuck, you’re cute. He hates that he loves how cute you are. He hates himself for not being stronger.

“Ok,” you nearly whisper. Looking up at him with the sweetest eyes. “I’ll help you.”

•

“Is all this really necessary?”

Din currently sits on the floor of your living room. The same spot as last time in fact. Your were the one that insisted on it and honestly he couldn't bring himself to tell you no. Since he sat down in the soft carpet, you've been flitting around your home turning off lamps, closing blinds, and covering any reflective items. Which, admittedly, he's greatful for. But the more time he spends here, alone with you, the more he's not going to want to leave.

“It’s not everyday you get your first kiss, Mando. I wanna make sure it’s a good one. I wish I could re-do mine.”

Gloves fingers flex and stretch restlessly on his knees as you approach the last lamp sitting on a side table in the living room and pause.

“Are you sure about this?”

Fuck no he’s not. But the sooner he does this, the sooner he can find some normalcy in his head again.

“Flip the switch," he says in a low modulated voice.

You fold in a growing smile before taking a deep breath and flicking the switch. Bathing the entire home in inky darkness. The silhouette of you through turns to hues of thermal green and red, carefully maneuvering through your living room by memory before finding your seat in the floor in front of him. And with slight hesitation, Din reaches up to remove the last barrier he has.

“Can you see anything?”

“Not a bit,” you answer.

With that confirmation, he unclasps the chin strap and slowly lifts the helmet up and off. He blinks several times to adjust his vision before finding the outline of the table and placing his helmet there. On the return, his head bumps into your outstretched hand. Not knowing that you had moved.

“Agh.”

“Sorry sorry,” you pull away. “Give me a moment, I’ll find you.”

Your hands search in the dark for him. He can’t see much but he can tell your hands land on nothing by the way the air between you moves and he doesn’t feel any contact on his person. So he reaches out, bumping into your arms and taking hold of them. Following the line of your forearm until he reaches your hands.

“Here,"  he murmurs. Gloved hands wrap around your wrists and gently lift them up. He guides your hands forward until…

You let out a small gasp when your hands find the warmth of his bare face. Soft and giving as opposed to the cold, unyielding beskar. Their movements are slow and explorative. Running your thumbs over his stubble. Surprisingly his hands don’t release their grasp. His leather clad digits press against the racing pulse in your wrist as his thumbs run over the back of your palm.

“This help?”

“Yes, thank you,” you whisper.

From sound of rustling on the rug, Din can sense your body leaning in. Your breath brushes over his skin for a moment before something warm presses against his chin and it takes a second to register that it’s your mouth. You ease him into the build up and he’s greatfull for it. Jaw. Then cheek. Then just grazing the furthest corner of his mouth.

And then… contact.

At first it doesn’t feel like much. Just something soft and warm pressing against his mouth. What most people refer to as a peck, he assumes. But it’s when you barely pull back and return for another that a shiver wracks his skin. Your lips lock in the return, molding together in perfect unison. And it’s fucking electric.

Just by feel alone, he senses that your lips are slightly open. So he mimics you. Giving his jaw just enough slack to respond as you go in again. The sensations have his mind in a thick fog. The soft flesh, the sweet taste, the faint suction. His skin feels like there’s live wires going off underneath. Giving in completely, he finally returns the kiss. Pressing into it with more confidence.

You hum against his mouth, and he dies a little inside.

That’s when the real hunger builds. There’s a slow simmering heat rising between you now. Without thinking, his hands grip your wrists a little harder. Pulling you in closer. The kiss grows a bit stronger with each return back into each other with no loss of contact. Lingering longer and breathing against one another.

He feels your head tilt more to the side and again he mimics your movement. The break only lasts a fraction of a moment. But in the re-entry, the tip of your soft tongue happens to brush his mouth. Sweet wetness coats his bottom lip and it’s in that instant Din feels all restraint leave his body.

Taking your face in his hand, he kisses you open mouthed, inviting you in. Your tongues slowly graze one another and if he fucking died in this moment he’d be ok with it knowing that he got to know how you taste.

The hunger becomes unbearable. Soon enough the breathing becomes heavier and the air becomes hot. Your arms end up wrapping over his shoulders, pulling him deeper and he’s more than happy to dive further. Another small noise escapes your throat and the vibration travels through his entire body.

He needs to feel you. To taste you. Devour you. He needs you.

A break for air is the only thing that throws him back into semi-consciousness as you pull away. The heat built up between you makes him dazed. Hot breaths fill the small space between your lips as you lean your forehead against his.

“Mando?”

“Yes,” he responds in a raspy whisper. A few moments pass as you collect your words and catch your breath.

“Is this really just about curiosity…?”

Your words lean more towards a statement than a question. There’s no point in denying it now. As much as he tried to convince himself or rationalize his strange request, he does feel a pull towards you. Much more complicated than just attraction. The more he sees you, learns about you, and talks with you, the more… inevitable you feel to him. There’s a gravity to you that he can’t escape from. Nor does he want to.

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?” The breath of your question brushes the heated skin of his cheek. And right now, he can't think of any answer that wouldn't give him up.

So he lets it fly.

“It’s not just the kiss I’m curious about.”

The silence in the air is thick. The only thing between you are the sounds of both of you catching your breath. It’s possible he might have ruined everything with that one sentence. But it’s the truth. It had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with you. Your kindness, your banter, your hospitality. All of it.

There’s no way of telling what you’re thinking at the right now. It’s in this moment that he wishes the lights weren’t out so he can at least read your expression. But then after what seems like an eternity, your forehead nudges against his and you blow a deep sigh of relief. Arms still draped over his shoulders.

“Oh good… I thought it was only me,” you confess with a skittish laugh.

And that tightly pulled restraint finally snaps inside him when he hears that.

Without any hesitation, he dives back in. Kissing you like a man starved. Just like that night, he feels drunk. Only this time it’s on the taste of you and the feeling of your hands finally on him. It’s that thought that drives him to rip off his leather gloves and toss them aside without breaking contact once. His bare hands find your waist and the strip of bare skin between your shirt and linen pants.

“Is this what you meant,” you pant. “When you told me not to invite you in again.”

“Yeah... it is.” He pants the confession as his mouth trails down the line of your jaw and finding your neck in the dark.

“That’s a relief,” you chuckle. “I was worried I offended you.”

“The only thing that’s offensive is that I can’t see that pretty pink flush on your face right now.”

“Should I get a blindfold,” you tease.

What a fucking woman. The mental image of you in a blindfold, only a blindfold, pours fuel on an already blazing fire. But for now, he’s more than ok feeling his way around tonight.

“Next time.”

It comes out of his mouth confidently and without hesitation. Because you both know there will be a next time. He’s bitten into the forbidden fruit and now he’s addicted to the taste.

With a simple shift, his hands dip beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and find the delicious heat of your soft belly.

"Lay down for me."

With your arms draped over his shoulders, you eagerly comply. Slowly dragging him down with you. He careful not to press all his weight on you—being crushed by beskar would definitely kill the mood—but it doesn't stop you from pulling tighter. Craving connection. All while Din rains wet kisses and soft bites upon your pulse.

So this is what your skin tastes like. Slightly salty, sweet, and smooth between his teeth. He might eat you whole if he’s not careful. He nips at the skin of your exposed collar bone and you writhe. Arching to press your chest to his. So he decides to give it some attention.

“Take it off," you pant with an neediness that drives him pull the damn shirt off in one swift motion.

His bare hand crawls up your sternum. Exploring the valley of soft skin free of any restricting fabric. The moment his fingers find the stiff peak of your bare breast he pinches eagerly. Earning the sweetest little whimpers from you as his mouth works on the other nipple. Biting and sucking the soft point. He can’t see a thing in the dark, but what’s lacking in sight is made up by sound with the delicious breathy moans you let out for him.

“Mando…”

Fuck, does he love the way you call out for him. Every touch, kiss, and  suck he gives elicites the most gorgeous sounds out of that perfect mouth. The sounds to straight to his cock, now painfully stiff. It's tempting to just dive into you right now. But he's waited this long. So why not take his sweet time with you. With his face still burried between your breasts and you fingers raking through his hair, Din feels a press of your hips against his armor. And he needs more.

“Shop Girl…”

The nickname doesn’t catch your attention. You’re either too lost in the moment or too breathless to answer. It’s only when he uses your given name that your body perks up and you give him a raspy “yeah?”.

“Do you want this," he asks.

His right hand has found its way to the waist band of your work pants. Ready and waiting for your answer. You try to grind against his hips but he presses your hips down firmly. He knows damn well neither of you want to stop. But he needs to hear it. There's no going back after this.

"Is this ok?"

He doesn't know if you're unsure. Or if maybe your trying to meet his eyes through the darkness. But there's a long pause. Only the sounds of heavy breaths and the pulse beating hard in his ears. And every second that passes has him hanging on the edge of madness.

"Yes...," you finally breathe. "I need you."

She needs me.

The words leave him winded. Months of questions and pining suddenly feel well worth the wait just to hear those words. They not only affirm going further, but the bond that's been steadily growing between you. Not a single ounce of hesitation survives after he hears that. And with one hand, Din loosens the tie of your pants and dives in beneath the fabric of your underwear.

By feel alone, Din manages to pull your pants down to your thighs and you kick them off your feet. His hands roam over all the smooth exposed skin and he can only imagine how perfect you must look if you feel this good. The tips of his fingers finds the dampness between your legs, running along the seam, and he slowly pushes inside until his knuckles meet your entrance.

You release a soft gasp and he swallows it with a deep kiss. You both sigh into each other's mouth. As if you need the other to even breathe. Din's lips never leaves yours as he does an experimental curl against the fleshy part of your walls and you arch your body against his.

“This where you need me," he huffs against your lips. "Right here?”

“Right there... Perfect..."

"I wanna taste you." The confession comes out before he can even think about it.

"Then taste me, Mando."

He can hear the smile in your voice. The taunt. And he's more than happy to reciprocate it.

He rises above you and you whine from the lack of contact. But the loss doesn't last long. Because before you even can register what he's doing, his head has already lowered between your legs.

"What are you- ah."

That gasp you let out when his mouth envelops your pussy is downright tortured. Good too know you were just as desperate as he was.

"Fuck! I thought you meant... You were gonna... Shit..."

No fucking way would he be satisfied tasting you on just his fingers.  The sweet tangy flavor explodes over his tongue and he groans. Fucking hell, you taste good. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing but that’s sure as shit not stopping him. He drowns in you. Lapping and sucking on your swollen little bud and loving the way it makes you cry out. Two thick fingers pump into your wet heat as you melt in his mouth. Such a fucking treat.

You writhe beneath him. Squirming and clawing at anything to hold on to as he works you up. Eventually your hands finds his hair again. Taking a fistful and pressing his face further against your cunt. The sting on his scalp makes his cock twitch in his flight suit and he groans.

“You want me to make you come, Shop Girl," he mumbles against you.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Make me come, Mando... Please…”

He doesn't break pace, doesn't falter, doesn't change a damn thing what he's doing because he can feel close to the edge you are. You tighten around his digits as the pump in and out. And with a firm suck on your clit you let out a strangled gasp.

"Oh Fuck! Fuck! Mando!"

Your breathing becomes short and shallow. Panting so hard right before holding your breath and tipping over the edge with a strangled cry. You come long and hard. Trembling so much he has to hold you steady by the hips.

Through the waves of your climax, Din continues to eat you. Lapping at your perfect pussy like it's wine and he doesn't waste a single drop of you. Even sucking and licking his fingers clean as you lay breathless before him. They come out of his mouth with a wet pop and he can’t help but let out a small breathy laugh.

“I’ve always wanted to try that…” he confesses.

You let out your own exhausted little laugh and he can already tell he wants more. More laughter, more of those pretty sounds, more of you.

It's with that in mind that Din starts pulling his cape off.

Piece by peace, he silently removes his armor. And after a few moments, a second pair of hands joins in. You fumble in the dark with his chest piece first. Helping him out of his armor one section at a time. They fall to the carpet with a soft thud along with the crumbling pieces of the restraint he’s built since that first night.

There’s no signs of stopping. You keep giving him more. More heat. More yearning. More questions.

What makes you laugh? What gives you pleasure? What makes you feel good and whole and satisfied? He needs to know.

And now that he’s gotten a taste, there’s no way he’s leaving here tonight until you’ve both had your fill.

•

If this is what happens when you invite the Mandalorian into your home, let your door never close.

Getting to your bed was easier than you thought it’d be in pitch black darkness. The only thing keeping your ‘bedroom’ separate from the rest of the home is a wooden lattice divider from the ceiling to the floor.

He lays you down on the soft futon on the floor and you open for him like a flower. Two strong palms drag and paw all over your body as his mouth works magic on yours and it makes you dizzy with desire.

Maker, he’s so good with his hands.

His body separates from you only to remove his flight suit and you whine at the loss of contact. Naked and panting for him. Within seconds he’s back on top of you and the feeling of his bare skin against yours makes your head spin. With everything so dark you wonder if this is even real. Maybe this is all a fever dream.

“Are you gonna show me how Mandalorians fuck this time,” you tease against his lips. Calling back to when he showed you how they drink. With your bare legs around his hips, you tease his resolve by running your inner thighs over his sides and you’re rewarded with a low hum. The hand supporting your neck slowly drags forward to find the base of your throat.

“You don’t need to know how Mandalorians fuck.” His wide grip gently squeezes the sides of your throat, just enough for you to feel the power in those hands. “Just how I fuck.”

Holy shit. You thought him gripping your jaw was hot. But this? This might’ve awakened something you didn’t even knew you wanted.

A whimper escapes you only to be muted by his mouth again. His tongue swirls with yours with a hunger you’ve never knew was there these past months and it’s such a relief to know that you weren’t the only one pining.

Mando’s mouth travels to your cheek, then jaw, finally finding purchase on your neck. Biting and sucking as his body presses into yours. He’s insatiable right now. There's no doubt that you'll find yourself covered in marks when the lights come back on.

You’re so lost in the moment that you almost don’t notice when something hard and warm presses against your inner thigh. Out of nowhere, a thought you haven’t even considered before decides to pop into your head at the very last minute.

“H-hold on!”

Your hands find his shoulders, urging him to pause. His lips unlatch themselves from your neck the second you blurt it out. Instantly propping himself above you with his hands on either side of your head.

“You want me to stop?,” he pants.

“No… Hell no. It’s just…”

How do you even begin to ask this?

“Um… I know I probably should’ve asked earlier but… you’re human, right?”

Mando blows out a low chuckle, understanding your underlying meaning. He feels human, from what your hands can tell anyway. He could be like his kid for all you know. It’s not that you’re not willing to go Inter-species, but your experience is mainly human. Plus with the lights off it’d be pretty difficult to figure out fitting things.

Taking your hand from his shoulder, he presses it against his chest where you can feel a dusting of hair. His skin is hot, damp with a thin layer of sweat and his breathing is heavy. He continues to lead your hand further down his torso so you can feel every hill and valley of his muscles. Eventually your hand hits a trail of hair down the middle and then…

Oh shit.

His hand guides you along the length of his cock. Encouraging you to explore every ridge from the thick base all the way up to the damp tip. He’s stiff and hot in your palm. When you give him a firm squeeze he groans and twitches in your grip.

Oh shit.

“Does that answer your question?”

The human part, definitely. Fitting is still debatable.

He lets you handle him. Giving you free rein to tug and tease as he bucks into your hand. He groans with pleasure and the power trip you feel knowing exactly how you affect this fiercely disciplined man makes the pulse between your legs throb harder. After a minute, his hand snatches yours to a halt, making your grip around his cock tighter.

“Show me where you want it,” he demands in a gruff breath. And you do just that. Pressing the damp tip against your clit. The contact sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

“Inside,” you plead. “I need you inside me.”

With an impatient huff, his hand comes down to take hold of your leg behind the bend of your knee. Spreading you wide and teasing your entrance before pushing himself inside. You gasp at the initial stretch, digging your nails into his shoulders. Mando curses under his breath and as he pushes you worry for a moment if there’s an end to him.

It’s slow, deliberate. Feeding his cock into your tight cunt until he’s pressing the limits of your walls. You shudder together when he’s completely sheathed and his hands grip your hips so hard his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Mando…” You throw your head back. Arching your whole body, waiting it to adjust to him. “Fuck!”

“I knew it,” he pants. “Fucking knew you’d feel good…”

He splits you in half and before you’re even ready the first hard thrust hits you. You whimper from impact and he thrusts again. Pinning you down by your hips to keep you at the perfect angle. Soon he sets a steady pace as he fucks you into delirium. It’s too much, he’s too much. Yet you moan and whine for more like each thrust might be the last. He feels incredible and you can only claw at his trim waist as it moves for you.

“That’s it… Good girl… Taking me so well… I wanted this… I want you to know every part of me.”

His words plunge into your chest like a dagger. Laced with a meaning that goes far beyond sex. Because you feel it too. You wanted him to be closer. You wanted him to know your name, know you. Even if it took this long to get here.

You feel one hand find your leg. Hiking it up so the back of your thigh lays flat against his chest. His hand drags up and down, caressing the soft flesh without losing a beat with his thrusts. A kiss presses on your calf and your head feels like it’s spinning. One moment he’s rearranging your insides and the next he’s giving your body sweet affection.

Tension builds in your core. Growing tighter and tighter with each hard thrust. Usually the second orgasm is more elusive to chase on your own. But this man is about to push you right into the next one not five minutes after the first one.

“Don’t… Stop…,” you pant. “Don’t stop, I’m so close, Mando…”

“Come for me... Let me feel you."

Then it comes. Tensing your entire body before coming down like a crashing wave. It’s spreads through every inch of your body, making you pulse and shake beneath his frame. You cry out in the midst of the euphoria, clinging to his shoulders, and everything feels so right. He moans along with you, feeling every tight pulse around his cock and letting you ride out the remaining waves.

“That’s two now, Shop Girl. You gonna give me a third?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still coming down from the clouds.

"I... I'm not sure I can," you chuckle.

"Yeah, you will," he pants. Amusement lacing his raspy voice.

Without out warning, Mando takes both your legs. Placing your calves over his shoulders as his leans forward. Folding you in half. And with one hard thrust, his cock drives back into you at a deeper angle. Your back bows and you swear you see stars in the blackness of the room. His lips land on the corner of your mouth and kiss their way to your lips. Offering a soft apology after the roughness. His strong arms are propped around you and you feel eclipsed under his broad body.

Soon his rhythm picks up. Becoming more desperate as he chases his own release. The room fills with the sound of your bodies meeting and you don't think you've ever heard anything more perfect. His panting picks up, his moans become louder, and the quivering breaths he makes when he finds a particularly deep spot will no doubt live in your mind rent free forever.

“You wanted me bare, didn’t you,” he huffs, pressing his damp forehead to yours.. “When you offered me that tea? You thought about me coming inside this perfect cunt, didn’t you.”

Caught red handed. Sure, you wanted to know if he had a partner as well. But the thought did cross your mind when he cornered you against the counter. You wanted to know how he felt bare, with nothing between you. Even dreamt a few times about it.

“Yes… Fuck, yes! Please! I want it!”

“You gonna come with me, Shop Girl? Hmm?”

“Maker, Mando! I’m right fucking there, please! I… I’m… ah-“

His firm hand grips your jaw. Whipping your face back to him so he can cover your mouth his. He kisses you deep, open and messy. No technique, just raw desire as he eats you alive. You moan and whimper against his mouth with each debilitating thrust he makes. He drives into you faster, harder. Relentlessly pushing you closer to the edge.

When it arrives, the orgasm hits you at full force. Wracking your whole body in convulsions as you scream, actually scream against his mouth. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his back and your cunt squeezes on to him for dear life like he’s never allowed to leave again.

Mando hisses through his teeth and he's right there with you. Ramming into you with relentless force as he chases his own release. His face dives into the crook of your shoulder and his arms scramble to take hold of you and he loses control. Letting out a sharp groan as he comes.

“Fuck.. Fuck,” he shudders in your ear. “Agh!”

His hips jerk against your body, driving himself as deep as you can take him. You feel his cock throb as he pumps into you again and again. Filling you to the point of spilling out and it’s... everything. Connected in such a profound way you’ve never felt before. In this moment, it’s hard to tell your bodies apart. You’ve melted and mixed and you never want to separate.

You ride it together, mold together, lose control together because you both knew it’d come to this. In the end this was inevitable. And in a galaxy filled with unknowns, in this you can be certain. A connection like this is few and far between. It’s real and raw and rare. Resisting that feeling was never an option, so why try?

Even in the climb down he doesn’t stop. Those hard demanding thrusts slow to a gentle drags as if he doesn’t want to finish yet. Hands glide all over each other’s bodies, soothing the other. All along his tense shoulders, you pepper soft kisses to his skin. Easing you both down from the clouds. He hums in the decent and it lulls you into an exhausted bliss.

Everything feels hazy and soft. You’re not sure how long you stay melted together like this. Minutes? Hours? But it’s needed. After a while, the breathing becomes steady and a soft, drowsy satisfaction settles between you.

“That’s the first time someone's come inside me,” you quietly confess. For a moment, Mando absorbs what you just said. Then you feel him prop himself in his elbows above you.

“Really?”

“Yeah…,” you breathe. Running your hands up the sides of his neck and resting them on his stubbled face.

“You know… since we’re sharing firsts tonight.”

He smiles and this time you’re able to know for certain by the feel of it in your hands. Leaning down, his forehead finds yours in the dark and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so whole before.

“I’m your first, huh,” he breathes. “I like that.”

There’s so many layers to this man. Quiet and withdrawn. Rough and demanding. Soft and caring. Each one is a trait you’ve come to cherish. You’re not sure if you love this man. But you’re definitely starting to fall for him. You can explore that treasure box later though. For now, you’ll take tonight for tonight and let whatever comes next between you arrive in its own good time.

“Me too, Mando...”

•

•

•

💕 THANK YOU FOR READING 💕