EVEN THE STARS ENVIED

God it’s so soft, without the helmets enhancements her voice would go unheard, soft like a promise of everything good and sweet. A whisper from the sunlight, the stars.

He turns to face her, half clad in beskar — the armour between them is the only thing stopping her from seeing his true form. He’s taller than her, bulky, intense, strong. She watches the helmet tilt, the rasping breathing through the mask is filling the silence.

“I don’t expect you to wait for me.” His voice is monotone. Controlled. He leans back against the bench, slouched into himself.

“What else is there to do?”

Silence follows her sickeningly sweet voice. Innocent.

She’s so innocent.

There’s a heavy feeling of guilt and shame surrounding the soldier. He’s taking in every bit of her presence, staring deep into her soul. This is so wrong, he is her protector, her guardian. Entrusted by his commander to bring her to safety of her home planet, unharmed. The Mandalorian steps closer, pushing the boundaries. He’s thinking of every moment between them thus far, her lingering gaze, the silence between them that builds up so strong he has to take a moment. It’s been only a week, flying through the stars together, alone. Just the two of them in endless space, the journey will come to and end and he’ll never see her again. This will be over. The feeling of undeniable need, hidden passion. His mind is racing with the idea and she seems to know everything he’s thinking and feeling without saying it.

“I was so lonely in here,” she breaths, “I don’t like waiting.”

A pause. The helmet tilts to the side. He’s watching her so closely. What is she waiting for? Every moment between them has been packed with this tangled energy, it’s filling the air and suffocating him.

“Do you want an apology?”

She sighs, adjusting her position in the chair. It’s uncomfortable but she knows it makes him even more nervous with her in his seat. The captains chair, she wears it like a throne. She’s constantly searching for something, anything to get his undivided attention. The soldier is distracting himself constantly. Changing subjects, brushing past her. Ignoring her when it becomes to much to bare. He cannot get close to her and it drives her insane. Stuck alone in this ship with such a looming presence has turned her into something she is not. Something she has never been.

“I don’t know what I want,”

They both know. It’s been digging into them since the very moment she stepped onto this ship. The walls have been closing in every second the passes, melting and bleeding into unspoken words, longing, need. It’s pushing them into a situation neither expected. She’s been alone her entire life, locked away on the promise of some faraway king. A trade, an exchange. She’s sick at the idea and feels lost within her family traditions. Stuck, chained to her destiny.

The Mandalorian follows a similar path. Although unbound by contracts of marriage, his vows tie him to a code. Held up by tradition. It’s wrong, the cards have been dealt and choices have been made. It’s set in stone. The game has rules.

This is against the rules.

“Figure it out.” Harsh. He’s too harsh.

Her hands come up and brush through her hair. Her body stretches, sleek and smooth. She standing, coming closer. He retreats back to the bench by the wall, leaning back. She’s standing right in front of him now, looking up at the forbidden man, the darkness of the ship is pushing them closer. The redness from the lights on the dash casts a hazy beam over the helmet as she stares into it. Hes intimidating and silent, breathing ever so softly.

The seconds pass like years. Every moment between them has lead to this, the journey is nearly over and he can’t help but feel grateful she will soon be gone, out of his mind. The sick thoughts, the fantasy of it all. She’s beautiful in this light, it’s taking him back to the moment he first laid eyes on her. He’s never felt this kind of thing, a burning and intense attraction, fire and the need to take her. Burn out the flame. It’s all melting down to this moment as she’s before him, waiting, expecting this moment to change the course of each interaction between them.

It’s been so hard.

Watching her, feeling her presence. She takes up every ounce of his self control. Her voice, her body. Her touch as he helped her into the ship the first time. Her hand lingering on his, a soft brush of his shoulder. The details she takes in as she explores the ship, the weapons, the shadows of his home.

The Mandalorian knows this is wrong. She’s so close to him and it’s so wrong. She’s young and beautiful, a caged creature to admire. All to himself in this very moment.

“Figure what out?” She’s close. So close. “You think you know what I want?”

The Mandalorian looks down at his boots. His legs are parted a bit as he leans into the bench along the wall, arms behind him, holding him up. Holding him back. He’s slouched and desperate to make himself seem smaller, less enticing. She could fit so perfectly between his thighs if she wished. She could be right there, so close and all for him to take.

“I can’t tell you that,” he speaks through the mask. It’s heavy in his throat, the words, filled with hidden feelings. He’s hoping she doesn’t hear the desperate restraint in his voice.

The journey has been long. Too long. She too beautiful, too soft.

The flame between them was sparked the moment they looked at each other the first time. It’s a wildfire in this moment. Her body trembles thinking back on every moment since they met, this is the closest she’s been to the man and everything in the universe is telling her to be closer. She’s stuck on the idea that it’s not all in her head, that the energy between her and the soldier is real, inviting. It’s so wrong and she’s desperate to make him push her away, there’s only inches are between them. Her face is warm and her skin is prickled with nerves. He’s so close.

He feels her body heat, or is it his own? It’s pulsing and moving between them, dragging the pair closer. She lifts her hand, fingertips graze all the way up and hover over his chest. Shes got curiosity in her dark eyes, blown open and hungry with need. The heavy fabric of his shirt is soft under her fingertips. Time is frozen between them now.

“I think,” her voice is so soft. All she wants is him. The protector, the commanding man leading her through the galaxy to her final home. “You can figure out what I want.”

Fuck.

It’s rolling through him, that goddamn fire. His chest is tight. Her hand is on his chest, pressing close to his heart, her thumb slides under the open part in his shirt, skin to skin it nearly breaks him right there.

This is wrong. She’s just a girl, promised to someone else.

His bare hand suddenly grips hers and pushes it away. Her eyes flick downwards and there’s a tremor visible on his hands, and the spark dies, the fire subsides. Her heart skips a beat at his touch, she’s never felt this way with a man, a masked man with a voice such as his. An aura of power and strength. It’s everything she didn’t know she wanted.

The Mandalorian is snapped back into reality, her hand was off of him, there’s space between them again. They can’t have everything they want, even in secret, hidden behind the heavy metal walls of the ship. It’s against every code in his entire existence, in hers as well. What is he thinking, being so close to this girl? Letting her hands trace up his chest, feel his heartbeat, his longing? He’s a dead man if anything happens to this girl, a dead man with no bounty.

He says her name, not as gentle has he had hoped. He’s stern, controlled. “You don’t want this.”

She’s recoiling, stepping backwards ever so slowly, challenging him, coaxing him to follow and fuck he desperately wants to. Her confidence doesn’t falter, she knows what she felt. It’s there, clawing and screaming to be released.

A sigh. “Mando…”

Silence.

“Never mind. Goodnight,” she’s turning and moving towards the door, down to the bunks. The darkness seems to swallow her whole, and the air is hung tight over them. Tense and burning. The Mandalorian hesitates, pushing himself from the cold walls of the ship, following her for only a moment. Her steps fade, his falter. He’s frozen there.

She doesn’t turn to look back, and the regret seeps into his soul. Crushing him down to dust.

-

Three more nights of this. Sleeping ten feet away from this girl. He’s imagining how she looks right now, resting beneath soft covers, barely anything on. Bare beneath the stars. She probably looks so peaceful, so perfect. Untouched by the pain of the long days and treacherous nights.

Untouched. God he needs help.

The night is not even close to being over. There’s still hours to go, the moonlight is bright over the ship. And the wind whistles past, mocking him. He’s tossing the covers off, his rough hands brush over his face, through his hair. He’s uncomfortable with himself, the actions of earlier. Mando let it go too far this time. Has there ever been other times? She’s reached out to him, she’s moved herself to be closer to him, and her gaze lingers for a second too long, or is he noticing things differently? Reading too much into it. That has to be it. She’s a young girl, no knowledge of the world or of him before this journey. Nothing she does has meaning.

Is he reading too much into this? What does she possibly want with him?

“Fuck,” he sighs and he looks over to the wall. The time reads only past midnight, it’s been an hour since her departure to the bunks across the ship. He followed silently after he heard her door close, crept into his bed, still half clad in his armour. He can’t remove it, there’s a chance she’s coming back and there has to be something between them. Fuck.

His mind wanders to the thought of her again, her body, her sweet voice coaxing him in. Her form is so small compared to his, breakable, he’d shape her into something she’s not. A wrecked mess. The Mandalorian would break her. Ruin her.

God he wants to ruin her.

He mentally slaps himself out of the thought. No. This is wrong. She’s wrong for coming on to him in the way she has been. He is faithful, sworn to his code. He won’t break.

A light flicks on in the hallway.

He shifts in bed, startled. Sitting up the covers fall from his lap to the floor, and as he’s reaching to pull them back up a shadow crosses his half open doorway. It’s her.

“What are you doing?”

She jumps back at the harshness of his voice, realizing his voice is no longer obstructed. The mask is gone. Her back is facing him now, she’s turned away with a hand covering her mouth, smothering a small gasp. Her heart is racing a million beats per minute and there’s heavy, rustling movement behind her. Mando stands quickly from the bed and picks his helmet off the bedside table. With a hiss of air its back on, covering his face. He can breathe again.

Stalking through his bunk to the door, he looms behind her. She won’t face him. She can’t. Why did she come in here?

“I’m sorry.” She’s caught like a deer in headlights, head hung she’s scared to turn around. Her feet won’t move, he’s so close behind her she can feel every inch of his form towering over her. It’s heavy, his anger in the air. Is it anger? That voice was not what she was expecting, human, real and strong. “I can’t sleep, and I thought—”

“Thought what?”

Fuck, what was she thinking?

The fire in the air is ablaze again, curling up the walls with heavy waves of heat. Forcing them together. The Mandalorian can’t take it anymore and he’s reaching to grab her shoulder, forcing her around to look at him. He’s rougher than he meant to be, catching her stumbling, making her steady with two hands on either of her shoulders. With a slight shove to her shoulders she’s pressed back against the now fully open door. Is this what she wants? A step closer would bring them face to face, with her pretty eyes looking up at him. He closes the gap between them.

Her lips part and a small gasp rolls up through her chest.

“What are you doing,” her name rolls of the Mandalorian’s tongue like a pathetic prayer. Then he’s scolding her. “You can’t be in here.”

Putting her in her place.

She apologizes again. Pitiful and sweet, staring into his visor like her life depends on it, searching for a sign of what he could be feeling, thinking, anything. His body is surrounding her, covering her in warmth. The details of him stand out in the semi darkness. His dark clothing, the misplaced armour, the mask, the small slice of skin she can see where the collar of his shirt meets the edge of the helmet. His belt half undone. What was he doing? Half undressed in bed, waiting for her? She’s essentially naked before him, loose clothing slips around her body, barely clinging to her form. They’re opposites in this moment, steady and strong verses timid and weakened. She feels small right now.

“Quit apologizing. Explain.” His hands release her shoulders, sliding off the slender slopes, itching to touch her anywhere else. They drop to his sides.

She can’t possibly explain anything right now.

“You know, earlier…” she’s trailing off. Uncomfortable but comfortable with how close they are in this moment. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. With this.”

What the fuck. Mando’s thinking and breaths in deeply. It crackles through the helmet and the very sound of it sends shivers down her spine. They’re so close she can almost feel it, his real and human voice, pushing into her. Dragging her down.

He’s let this go on for too long.

“I can’t be okay with this.” His voice is strained and his head tips back, as if he’s rolling his eyes dramatically at her, as if he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s exasperation, maybe desperation. His body language is giving off so many mixed signals she’s nearly going insane. He’s close enough that she could lean in and feel any part of him. “I’m not okay with this.”

“Why..” She’s asking and suddenly his hands move on their own accord, sliding up the front and top of her thighs, pulling, slowly dragging her clothes up with them. It’s so soft and delicate in his bare hands, her skin exposed in the soft lights it’s driving him crazy. God she’s got him in the worst possible position right now, or maybe she’s in a worse position — neither of them know. But it doesn’t feel wrong, her body under his hands. He doesn’t know what he’s doing touching her this way, convincing himself to stop he’s sliding one hand up the curve of her waist, touching beneath her breast. She’s letting him touch her, and the world is silent around them, waiting and watching. Both his hands meet at her jaw, gently cradling, tilting her head back a bit, forcing her to look up at him properly and it feels like every universe is collapsing around them. The Mandalorian is leaned into her, pressing close and she’s trying to remain calm.

“Why are you doing this to me,” he challenges her question. His thumb grazes over her bottom lip, tempted.

She’s stuck in his gentle grasp. Frozen in place, this is what should have happened hours ago when he first returned to the ship. Her hours and days of thinking of this very moment, it’s happening and it doesn’t feel real. But he’s real, the strong, untouchable soldier is inches away, touching her, questioning her. She forgets everything else except him in this moment, she’s too scared to speak, what if he stops?

“I want—”

“What?” Her name is uttered through the mask. And his hands push past her jaw, one lightly grips the side and back of her neck, tangled in her loose hair. She looks so perfect right now, caught with him, trapped in his hands.

The power he feels over her is wrecking him. It’s consuming him, his entire body is alight with hunger. She can’t want this, it’s wrong and can’t happen. It feels so good right now he can’t stop. The helmet leans down and her forhead is pressed to his, the Mandalorian feels her hands settle on his waist, above his pant line, inching towards his skin, craving something. Anything.

She’s shy and small now. No words escape her lips, only soft breaths and small gasps each time her hands explore further and further.

“You gonna show me what you want?” He presses her. The helmet is cold against her hot skin and she moves so he stands back, up straight again. It’s happening, he’s too far into this now. The code is forgotten, broken and lying on the floor. Shattered with every bit of his self control. Her voice is soft, her hands slide up and over his shoulders, pulling him in. They clasp behind his neck and his settle on her hips, connected. Please please, he’s silently begging her to do something, to be so bold as she was before so he’s not at fault for this entire mess he’s allowed them to get into. He needs her permission to break the rules, to allow him to break his code.

She’s quiet.

“Tell me what you want.” He’s gentle. “Please,”

“I want you, I just—” Her words are soft and needy, reminding him she’s just a lost girl trapped with him. Stuck in a forever loop, this moment will replay over and over until the world burns. The Mandalorian is impatient, the need to beg for her voice or actions or anything has vanished as she touches him on the side of his helmet. A touch, a whisper, a promise.

Permission.

Her heart stops when he pulls her closer and moves her to the side of the bed. He’s not waiting, her words have left her and she’s stunned into silence, a breathless and beautiful creature. Fuck she’s perfect, sliding onto the bed she’s all for him to take.

It doesn’t feel wrong anymore.

He’s above her on the bed, the pressure is building and he can’t believe she’s there with him, stealing every ounce of light in the room, it’s crushing down on them, forcing him closer. Teasing very small touches over her body, it’s torture for the both of them. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him, to stop, to continue. She’s right there open and waiting for him and there’s nothing stopping it. His mind races back to every thought of her, every touch, each word hinting at what could happen in the darkness of the ship. It’s lead them here and he doesn’t know how he’s managed to control himself this long.

“Mando,” she whispers, sliding her hands over him, pulling at the heavy armour. As her clothes ride up, every inch of her exposed body is heaven for him. “I haven’t ever—”

He stops.

Time halts in place. The world spins and comes to a stop.

Untouched.

Of course. He’s thinking and another wave of desperation pushes through him. Of course she’s never been with anyone, it explains her frustration, her lack of fear, her complete and utter desire. Her shyness. He’s sitting up and pulling her with him, looking directly into her soulful eyes. Her face is flushed, chest heaving. Shes breathtaking.

The Mandalorian utters her name, groaning with need. He’s even more tempted now, pulled in by the thought of being the first man to have her, to take her and show her how to feel so good.

“You’ve never?”

She stares into his soul. “Never.” The shyness creeps back in. “But I want this, I want you to tell me how to feel, please.” She feels pathetic and needy, begging the faceless man to show her what she’s missing. The years of waiting felt like a waste until she became trapped in this ship with him, the mysterious and terrifying, probably dangerous man. Her protector, her guide.

He doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know him. Strangers forced into this reality, together. Bound by unwavering need.

“I can show you what to feel,” his voice is caught in his throat. “You’re sure?” His eyes pierce into hers through the helmet, she can’t see it but she feels it.

She’s nodding again. Her body has never felt more alive.

“You’re just so—”

“So what?”

A hand slides over his helmet. He’s contemplating, running over the probabilities. How much trouble would this get them in. How much would she regret it? Would she regret it? She’s just —

“So young.” The Mandalorian is standing now. Away from the bed. “You don’t know what you want.”

Her face changes. “You told me you can’t tell me what I want.”

Fuck.

A scoff escapes the helmet. She’s right. Shes caught him and she knows it, sitting there in his bed, clothing pooled around her, inviting him in. He’s thinking over every way, any escape, an excuse. Something. Anything. His mind is drawn blank as she is peeling away her clothes, sliding the small straps down her shoulders, revealing herself to him. Each moment before this flashes though his racing mind, how she has coaxed him into this place with her, caught between desire and something else. Something wrong and unspoken of. The rules. The code. Her family, the life he is supposed to be escorting her safely to.

This is all so wrong.

—

The Mandalorian is gentle. Her body moves in tune with his touch, shivering and caving into him. Shes bare, blindfolded on the bed, the helmet laid discarded on the floor. Traditions forgotten and each second that passed brings them closer, his hands are rough and they slide up her legs, pulling them open. Her hands find his shoulders, run up to his head, searching for details of him. He’s slowly kissed each part of her, murmuring against her skin how perfect and beautiful she is. Their lips meet with a soft kiss, hidden in the dark and she moans ever so softly into him.

Exploring every inch of her body, getting used to the softness of her the Mandalorian is drunk on passion, every conscious and rational thought has left. He’s entrapped by her, the way she feels beneath him, touching him, begging for him to kiss her again because it just feels so good.

Desperately, he’s moving over her, placing kisses down her chest, his hands find her breasts, cupping and bringing his mouth down he slowly kisses and licks. She’s gasping, caught in the moment and god it feels so good. He’s warm and his mouth feels better on her breast than it did on her lips, she’s craving more. Anything he can give her.

“I’m going to do something and you’re going to tell me if it’s okay,” he’s pleading at this point, looking up at her between kisses on her nipple. His hands move to grope her breasts again and slide down her stomach, inching between her thighs. “Tell me it’s okay,”

“It’s okay,” she’s struggling to comprehend what he’s saying, her body is tense and she’s warm all over. Her stomach feels tight and there’s that burning hot coil winding up within her. “Keep going,”

The Mandalorian slides down, his hands pull a leg over his shoulder and he’s so so close to her centre he can smell her, sweet and inviting he can tell she’s slick with want. Her body is twitching and she’s unknowingly pulling him in closer with her leg. She’s needy and doesn’t even know what she wants. Something, anything. He’s slow with it, leaning in to softly kiss her, she’s shaking and her hands pull him in pushing him closer. He’s stopping himself from moaning at the taste of her, sliding his tongue up he’s teasing and slow, eating her as if it’s his last, cherished meal.

Fuck. He’s giving in and doesn’t slow down, his mouth on her cunt is pushing and pulling her to exactly where he wants her. Desperately close. He sucks gently, pushing her legs further open with his hand he brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks, then slowly slides them up and down her core. Warmth spreads through her entire body at the feeling, she’s lost and torn open, drunk on his touch. It’s overwhelming but she doesn’t want the feeling to end, there’s something missing and she doesn’t know what it is. The feeling is too good, she’s crying out his name, followed by soft moans and praise.

She’s so wet, Mando traces his fingers up and down once more before teasing entrance.

“Mando—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he’s back to licking and kissing her slowly, hands leaving her cunt. He’s above her now, one arm pressed beside her head, holding him above her. Blinded, she’s left in the dark with such a wretched feeling of emptiness without his mouth or fingers on her. His other hand traces around her centre, gathering every bit of warmth and wetness. “It’s okay, here—”

He’s kissing her deeply, slowly pressing two fingers deeper and deeper. Dragging her down into a warm pool, her body is shaking and she’s moaning into each kiss. It’s a small stretch and feels so good, breaking her open for him. God she’s tight around his fingers. He’s slow with it, gentle, sliding in and out, crooking his fingers ever so slightly.

“I got you, does this feel good?”

She’s gasping ever so softly. “Yes, Mando — oh my god.”

“Yeah right there huh,” he’s teasing and his words are calm, his deep voice is controlling every bit of her entire being. “Right there feels so good.”

Tell me it feels good. Please. He’s begging her internally, watching her every move, every shiver and sigh that leaves her body.

Her hands are on him, gripping his shirt. She’s kissing him back between his sinful words. “You feel so good, please,”

“I know,” he’s soothing her, pushing his fingers deeper. “I can feel it, how much you like this,” he’s calling her pretty names and sighing into each kiss, holding himself back.

Fuck.

“Just like that, tell me how it feels.” Keeping himself from tearing her apart, he’s whispering praise and instructions. He’s fucking her so slowly with his hand, gentle and loving in a way. As much as he wanted to ruin her before, thinking she was this wild thing to be tamed, to be taken as she so boldly came onto him, she knew was she wanted — now he wants to reassure every moment with her. The first time she’s been held and touched this way, it has to be perfect, the way she deserves. He’s proving to himself he can be gentle, he doesn’t just take what he wants. She’s is melting into his hands and it’s taking every single bit of whats left of his self control. The Mandalorian is sure this is a lot more than she imagined with him. Untouched, so innocent and perfect, not what he was expecting from her.

She’s struggling to find words. She needs more, his hand feels so good it’s killing her slowly. The burning hot feeling is fleeting, slowly burning out as his slows down, his fingers inside her, slowly pushing. More gentle than before. Fuck. Shes sliding her hand down to force him to continue when his fingers reach her clit, sliding in small circles she’s thrown back into burning hot desire. Her head is thrown back at the new feeling, thighs tighten around his hand. Shes gasping and moaning his name — pulling him closer.

“Mhmm, like that?” He questions, whispering her name into her ear, following with kisses down her neck. The blindfold tight around her eyes, she’s covered in darkness and all she feels is his hand and lips on her, the warmth of his breath as he tells her she’s doing so good for him.

“So good, you’re doing so good for me.” His body is solid over hers, covered with years of pain and suffering. The hard exterior is broken down with her, open and ready to be completely hers. Shes begging for more.

Please.

“Yeah, I got you,” he’s moving her up on the bed, repositioning himself before her. Her hands find his and bring them to her breasts, smoothing over her skin. He’s leaning down to kiss her once again, then pulls back and finally removes every part of his clothing. She hears the armour fall to the floor, the shirt lands beside her by the bed. His hands trail up her calves, parting her knees once again. “Come here, that’s it—”

She’s gasping when she feels him so close. She’s nervous immediately, that burning feeling is back. Hot and pooling inside her, begging for more. “Mando,”

“Shh,” his voice is soft, less gravelly as before. His chest rises and falls in tune with hers. “Stay still for me, tell me if you’re okay.”

She’s nodding beneath the blindfold, she feels his hand capture hers and lead it to his chest, he’s dragging it down with his over his abdomen and she’s feeling every inch of his skin, warm to the touch. His muscles contract under her touch, his hand over hers moves further down, grazing over his dick. The lightest of touches from her is sending him into a spiral, he’s never been this hard in his life. Watching her mouth open, a soft pant escaping her lips she’s craving more. Her hand moves with his over his cock, stroking lightly, teaching her how to touch, how to feel.

“My god…”

“You feel how bad I want you?” His voice is tight, strained under pressure. Her hand moves, turning to properly grasp him. Sliding up and down the way he showed her. God she’s already so good. “Fuck,” he’s over her now, hands on either side of her head, kissing her. Her hands move to cup his face, and he feels a tug in his chest, he needs her touch maybe more than she needs his. He says her name over and over again, the praise flowing from his mouth is sending shock waves through her body.

“I want you,” she’s breathing into his neck, her arms slide up and down his strong back.

She’s going to take it. He’s pushing himself up again and his hand goes to stroke his dick once more, the other pushing one of her legs up and onto his shoulder, stretching her open. Her body moves to be closer to his, her other thigh falling open towards the bed. The sight makes him groan, pressing a small kiss onto her calf muscle, he’s using his hand to guide and press his dick into her. Slowly, sliding up and down first. Fuck she’s still so wet, sick and coating the tip of his dick. She’s moaning, breathing heavy with each movement of his.

“Ready baby?” He’s calling her every pretty name he can think of in this moment, “baby, tell me you’re ready.”

She’s desperate, nodding, words can’t leave her mouth.

His hand leaves his dick and circles her clit again, slowly.

“Words, I need to hear them.”

“Yes,” she’s nearly crying at this point, pulling him in every way she can. “Please, Mando —”

With her permission he’s slowly sinking into her. The warmth washing over both of them, it’s intense and pulling them closer. He stutters for a moment, a small whimper leaving his lips. Gods she feels good. Perfectly taking his dick, she’s absolutely soaked, tight and he doesn’t want to pull out. His hand comes down to press onto her lower stomach. “Feel that baby?”

He’s slowly pulling out to slide back in, taking in every second of the feeling. Her warm cunt is taking every bit of him and it’s dragging him further and further away from every ounce of whatever religion or code he lives by. It’s ecstasy. The entire room is warm and nothing else matters but the two of them, the air is hot and heavy and their bodies are damp, pushing together and he’s telling her how good she feels as he fucks her. His hands pressing on her stomach softly she can feel him deep inside her, drawing out that heat, that want. The need she had felt the second she saw him. Her eyes are closed beneath the blindfold, screwed shut she’s gasping and moaning with each hit. Her body is tense and he’s telling her to relax, he’s got her, she’s so good for him, taking everything he has.

“Fuck,”

“Shh,” he’s cooing, his hand coming up to cover her mouth. He can’t listen to her cries anymore it’s too much, she’s bringing him closer and closer with each movement, he’s fucking her faster now, her bodies relaxed into him. Letting him take her. “Just like that, thats it, fuck baby.”

Her body is trembling and she’s overwhelmed. It feels good and slightly painful, the arousal is reaching a melting point. Boiling over and seeping into her bones, her nerves are on fire. Her chest is heaving, her hand on his covering her mouth she’s still breathing and pleading with each thrust. His hand slides to cup her jaw again, just as he did while avoiding the temptation from earlier. He’s looking at her, so perfect beneath him, taking it so well.

“Tell me you’re okay, please baby,”

She’s trembling. “You’re so good, so good,” he’s fucking her through her words, pushing her closer to the edge. He wants her to feel this, to understand how much he’s giving her. He needs her to break under him, submit to the feelings. He’s moving her legs and settling properly over her, face to face, kissing her, moving down to rest his head in the crook of her neck, he doesn’t stop, each trust feels better and better. His voice is contracted, caught between small moans of her name.

“You like that?” His words sink into her ears, warm breathingon her neck sends more heat though and inside her. “Fuck — like that? That feeling baby? I can feel how bad you needed this, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she’s holding him close, letting him use her. “I feel—”

“What baby? You wanna feel good?”

God she doesn’t know how she could feel better. He’s moving again and shifting her, pulling out for a moment she’s groaning desperately, chasing that empty feeling without him inside her. The Mandalorian is craving her, every second he’s not fucking her is torture, he wants to make her beg, to plead for more. He wants to bring her so close to the edge she won’t even remember anything. He’s teaching her, showing her what real love and passion can be. She’s so close he can feel it even if she doesn’t know it yet. Her cunt is dripping, he’s feeling how wet and slick he’s making her with his words, it’s carnal and deep and bringing something out he didn’t know he had or needed.

“Come here,” he’s pulling her into a new position, turning her on her side. Sliding his hands up and down her body she’s so warm to the touch. “Come here let me make you feel good.”

She’s entrapped, drunk on whatever this drug is. It’s feeding into ever part of her body and soul, crashing around her. It’s hot and sending sparks through her body, his touch, his lips on hers, everything she’s wanted, he’s whispering in that deep voice right in her ear. She’s turning to face him, blind in the room. Feeling for him, finding his shoulder and tracing up his face.

The realization sinks in, the morals are gone, away in the night and forgotten. This is her own doing and she’s sure she’ll never feel this good again, his rough hands, exploring every inch of her, the way he feels filling her up, the cracks of his voice, so deep and filled with a yearning she thought she’d never experience. It’s sinful and sweet, he’s holding her so close and running his hands down her legs, pushing them open again.

His hands slide between her legs. He utters her name, soft, needy. “Please, let me finish.”

The Mandalorian is pulling her back down, riding the high of showing her just how good she deserves it. He’s craving her release, it’s so close he can tell. She’s so sensitive to the touch, her body is weakened, slack and allowing him to move her wherever he wants.

“Mando, I —”

He’s kissing her. Desperately and messy. “C’mon, let me show you how good this feels.” Kissing down her neck again, he’s going to show her just how beautiful she is. How good she can feel, he needs this. She hasn’t finished yet and his only goal is to prove he can show her he knows what she wants. The untouched, shy girl sitting in his captains chair only hours ago. She’s open and letting him run his hands between her legs, kissing her in all the right places, slowly pressing into her. God she’s so good.

“Please,”

“Let me give you want you want.”

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