#sith!au

"Not yet," Luke stated, dragging his lips over the dip of his neck. While he slowed his strokes once more, barely even rutting against him, he didn't stop entirely, intentionally keeping Din on the precipice. When he realised what Luke was doing, Din's bound hands, trapped between their chests, suddenly grasped at Luke's undershirt. It was clear he was about to try and take charge, just as he usually did once Luke got him worked up enough, but Luke denied him the opportunity—having already expected it.

Before he had the chance to flip them over, Luke cybernetic grasped Din's hip and pinned him to the bed. "Not yet," he repeated with a breathless chuckle. Din let out a small, disgruntled noise, and Luke could feel his frustrated gaze as he leaned up to press their foreheads together, unable to hide his smug smile. "Have more patience."

Din groaned, ever susceptible to his teasing. "Are you going to tell me to meditate next?"

Luke hummed thoughtfully as he stroked his cybernetic hand down Din's thigh, groping at his firm muscles. "Should I?"

"Not unless you want me to take matters into my own hands," Din said with a small huff.

At that, Luke winked playfully. "Up for a challenge?"

Din chuckled, the sound twinged with a touch of arrogance. "Are you?"

Before Luke realised what was happening, he was knocked off balance, leaving him pressed into the soft mattress while Din straddled him, pinning him between his thighs. The position shift left Luke slightly dizzy, and he looked up in surprise as Din dangling the maroon sash in his hand—having removed it without catching Luke's attention.

Below the helmet, Luke was sure that Din's small smile had grown wide enough to show a hint of teeth. "Found your weak point," Din chuckled. "That makes it two to thirty four."

"I demand a rematch," Luke complained.

With a snort, Din shook his head fondly as he pulled his arms from his flight suit, exposing the planes of muscle and veins curving along his arms. "Close your eyes."

Luke sighed in resignation and slipped his eyes shut just as the seal of Din's helmet released. However, it didn't take more than half a second to shed the sting of defeat as he eagerly sat up to meet the kiss that followed. A grin split Luke lips when he felt the smile on Din's own, and soon they were laughing and knocking teeth more than they were kissing. It was playful, sweet, and Luke couldn't get enough of it—of how it made his heart flutter, clearing his mind of all doubt. Just as he had the first time, Luke found that Din's kiss was warm and gentle, something that made his chest ache in the most tender way. There was comfort here, one that allowed for him to laugh in such a carefree way, existing within a reprieve of their own making.

Force, he loved him—they loved each other.

Luke couldn't say it now, not in some hotel casino—not when he was only finally juggling with the idea that he was allowed be loved in such a way, even as who he had become. It was obvious that—for now—Din was allowing him the lead in that regard, knowing from their prior conversations that Luke battled desperately with what attachments meant to him. It would take a long time to coax him back to the understanding he'd come to on the second Death Star, how he really thought whenever he immersed himself in the light for too long.

But that didn't mean he couldn't feel it. The way the galaxy seemed to glow brighter simply by Din's presence within it, how his burdens didn't feel so heavy knowing he saw the good within his actions. It was something so good, so pure. It was everything—it was desert heat and the smell of spices, humid caves and quiet laughter, recycled starship air and the taste of chocolate. It was light.

"You're so good to me," Luke murmured, peppering kisses at the corner of Din's lips. As he did, he could feel the curve of Din's smile and his heart soared. "So good."

After Luke gave him a lingering, chaste kiss as a reward, Din chuckled softly and gently pressed their foreheads together. "I have to make sure you get your money's worth. As your bodyguard."

Luke couldn't help but roll his eyes behind his eyelids. "You're a jealous man."

"I'm a grateful man," Din corrected. Then he shrugged, smiling a little wider when Luke blindly kissed him once more. "And maybe a little jealous."

"Show me," Luke goaded.

Luke wasn’t sure when he closed his eyes, but he woke up a few hours later to find himself sleeping on Din’s chest. It took a moment for Luke’s confusion to disappear as he rubbed his eyes. All he could remember was that Din had been telling him about all sorts of bounties he’d taken, speaking in that low tone that made Luke’s mind settle. He must have dozed off at some point during a story, something about a krayt dragon and a bantha on Tatooine. Sand people too—Tuskens, Din had corrected.

There was another hazy memory. Weightlessness, the soft whispers of Mando’a as Din carried him back to the bedroom. The easy acquittal when Luke’s sleep clouded mind pulled him into the bed too. Din’s promise to stay with him.

A content hum escaped him, and he pressed his ear over Din’s armourless chest, listening to the lullaby of his heart as he looked out across the bedroom. Night had already fallen, but warm city lights spilled between the cracks in the curtains, and Luke watched the particles in the air dance in the beams. It felt peaceful, tucked away at the edge of the galaxy, engulfed by silk sheets and the warmth of Din’s gloved hands along his spine. It was so perfect that he wondered if he was still dreaming.

With a wistful sigh, Luke lifted his hand to trace nonsensical patterns over Din’s chest. The flight suit fabric was surprisingly soft, and it was well worn, heavy with the scent of desert heat and mechanical oil. It reminded him of home. Luke wanted to melt into the smell, into him, until he was nestled against his beating heart.

“I wish I could feel you,” Luke murmured.

The hands on his spine smoothed down his back gently. “Hm,” Din hummed, his voice hoarse from sleep. “We could pretend you stole key.”

Luke chuckled softly, and a pleasant shiver trailed over his skin when Din lifted one of hands to card his fingers through his hair. The leather was soft too, and his touch was more tender than anything he’d experienced in years, intimate in a way that fueled a star in the centre of his chest.

This couldn’t be a dream, it was more than he’d ever hoped for.

“You really don’t hate me,” Luke whispered in awe.

“Never,” Din stated, his tone blunt. It made Luke chuckle once more, and he could hear Din’s heart beat quicken as the hand still trailing his back pressed them closer. “I care for you.”

The weight of the words were heavier than their simple meaning, and Luke’s own heart fluttered in time with Din’s. Fondness swelled in him, ticking his stomach as a bout of butterflies fluttered from his core all the way up his throat, spilling into the very air he breathed. Their wings brushed his cheeks, soft as velvet flower petals, and fantasies of what could be twirled in the bedroom above their heads.

Luke was too scared to look, to be too greedy.

Din wasn’t—he didn’t fear the attachment that kept Luke up at night. “We could visit Naboo,” Din began, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ve had dreams about it, what it might be like. I want to take you there again.”

There was a never ending list detailing why such a dream was impossible, but Luke couldn’t give voice to them, not now, while he could enjoy the illusion. “What do you want to do once you have me?”

A second later, Luke shivered and let out a noise of contentment when Din’s hand moved from his hair to trace along his cheek, following the curve of his jaw. When he tapped Luke’s chin, Luke followed the gentle pressure of his touch. He lifted his head and rested his gaze on Din’s visor, so close his breath fogged his beskar helm.

When Din’s thumb brushed over his bottom lip, Luke grew drunk on the hazy longing that ached in his gut.

“Close your eyes.”

Luke’s lashes fluttered as he immediately obeyed, and an inhale caught in his throat when he heard the unmistakable sound of the seal of Din’s helmet release. He grew still, terrified to do anything to startle him or make Din shy away. Then the unspoken reality of the action hit Luke like a light freighter.

It was a long moment before Din moved. When he finally did, each action was slow as he lifted his helm, and Luke’s heart thundered when he heard the dull sound of the helmet falling to the bedsheets. Then Din stroked his cheek once more, Luke could feel the way the leather clad fingers trembled—feel the way Din’s own heart thundered against his ribs. He wondered if he’d ever done this before, laid himself so bare in such quiet intimacy, but Luke knew the answer just as the thought formed.

It took a long time for Din to coax him closer, for him to close the chasm between them, and a shiver raced through Luke as their lips brushed, feather light yet scalding. Then Din kissed him, sweet and hesitant, filled with a longing that had aged into fine wine since it first bore fruit, and he grew drunk on it. Drunk on the rightness of it all, of softness of his lips, of the warmth.

It was the first time someone had touched him since Endor—since he’d felt the heat of another person against his skin.

Luke could feel tears sting his eyes, and Din gingerly pulled away from his lips to kiss his cheeks, between his brow, ticking his skin with a moustache that Luke hadn’t expected. Each kiss was warm, gentle with an affection that Luke craved beyond all others, and his heart nearly leapt from his chest when Din’s lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“Cyar’ika.”