So thanks to @burntheedges and @djarins-cyare, my TWILE series has picked up a lot of traffic on Tumblr and AO3.
I’m coming out of partial hiatus to say:
Listen.
I love every single person who has even glanced at my silly little fiction. It means so much to me to think that someone, out there, has connected with my works, if even only for a moment.
And after a heavy dry spell of struggling to write and fighting with my muse and getting frustrated that I can’t focus on a single project for more than a few hundred words because ooh something shiny wait look at this rock I found on the beach hey now okay but like where did sentience originate and how do we measure that without contradicting our own measurements and how okay no back to the post -
Despite my inability to focus, suddenly I’m cranking out a few hundred words a day.
And though I’ve always planned a TWILE sequel, I’ve never made the leap and decided to dedicate my focus to it.
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Not sure where it belongs in the story but it belongs to them so it’s there -
*****
“Please, do not leave me. My love, I cannot exist without you. I am nothing without you but an empty husk of a man, living day by day, never settling down, never knowing nothing but this turmoil inside me.”
“My love, I must leave, to protect you. I cannot continue living a lie. I am sorry that I have let this go on as long as it has… but you need to know…”
“Tell me, my love. You can tell me anything.”
“My love… I am not Liana. No. I… I… I am Lania. Her twin sister.”
You toss a piece of Mantell Mix, snorting as it sails through the hologram. “Come on, Stefano, catch up. She’s been impersonating her sister since you left Bespin.”
“What?”
The warm depth of the single word, bare and raw, without the filter of his helmet, blends into the hum of the Razor Crest’s engines moving steadily through hyperspace.
Your laughter bubbles up at his tone, echoing softly against the walls of the hold. “You’re kidding me. The Most Observant Man in the Galaxy didn’t catch that she’s parting her hair on the left side now instead of the right?”
“I just figured she wanted to… slightly change her hairstyle.”
The tremor of laughter he’s suppressing travels between you, warming the soft place behind your ribs. “You’ll need to brush up on your Holodrama lore if you want to maintain Super Fan status.”
Din hums, a warm vibration against your back. “Don’t want to embarrass myself at the next convention.”
The hum travels, softly sharp, where your bare skin presses against his, reminding you of similar sounds you can pull from him.
A slight shift and your hips are settled flush against his, gentle warmth of casual intimacy immediately blooming into the heat of need.
His hand flexes on your waist, fingers splaying, pressing just enough to send sparks spiralling to your core.
Warnings, etc.: smut, like hella descriptive but you should anticipate that by now, and FEELS, tender smutty feels, omg the FEELS, I just think it needs to be noted a few times given how much there is, a little bit of angst at the beginning but that clears up real quick, Fun with Mando’a™️, sweet moment of domesticity for our perfect little family 🥰
Notes: This is it. The end of The World Is Light, Embodied. I’ve added a note to the end of this chapter because I can’t contain myself (shocking, I know) and it ended up being way too long and wordy (also shocking) but in summary, I love you all.
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
Ok. Deep breath. Go.
You’re hovering.
You know it, there’s no real reason for you to still be here, leaning against the wall of the hold, watching the kid sleep.
The hold of the ship is almost pitch-dark as the last few minutes of the day cycle tick away. Now that the kid is down, you should be moving through your usual nighttime routine - tidying up, reviewing what needs to be done tomorrow, getting yourself ready to slip into bed with Din once he’s done in the cockpit.
But something stays your feet, holds your gaze fixed to the slight rise and fall of that little chest.
An archetypal protectiveness, a need to have the kid in your line of sight, to know that he’s safe.
Even now, when he’s snug in his hammock, snoring lightly, tiny clawed hand curled around his stuffed frog.
A tightness in your chest tugs at your heart, making it skip against your ribs, events of today flashing across your thoughts.
He came so close to…
And you…
Boots on the ladder draw you out of memories.
Din steps off quietly, obviously taking the silence in the hold as proof that the kid is asleep. He moves toward you with that familiar confident grace, beskar glinting in the dim lighting, stopping when he’s close enough to rest a gloved hand on the small of your back.
You lean into the touch, but it’s not enough, that tight feeling constricting your lungs and your body instinctively turns to slip your hands around his waist and pull yourself into his embrace, tuck your nose into the curve of his neck just as you’ve done countless times before. His hands glide over the span of your back, one pressing you to him and the other cupping the back of your neck.
Your muscles release, and you sink into the moment. The tight feeling strains, pulls, snaps and every emotion trapped within floods your system.
Not like before, not in desperation, or anger, or fear. None of those emotions are present, here, safe and surrounded by everything you call home, held by one you love and who loves you.
It’s a simple acknowledgement of the events of today, and those primal instincts, that drive to protect and survive that razed your veins with adrenaline and left you feeling unmoored.
A recognition that experiencing those emotions is part of the life you live. A life you choose to live, because even if you are left drifting, uncertain, you will always come back.
Din will always guide you back home.
He bears your weight easily as you lean into him, tears sliding down your cheeks, dampening the cloth of his cowl.
It’s quiet, just the hum of the ship’s engines vibrating along the edge of silence. For a long moment, there’s only you and him, only the barely-there pulse of your heartbeats pressed close together, seeking each other through layers of cloth and beskar.
The torrent of emotion slows eventually, lessens to a trickle that allows you to direct strength back to your limbs, pull back from Din to stand on your own two feet again.
His hand on your neck slides around to cup your jaw, tilt your face as his hidden gaze takes you in. “You’re ok, kar’ta.”
There’s an insistence in his words, a strain in his modulated voice that brings fresh tears to your eyes.
You nod once, smile weak but reassuring. “I’m ok.”
A sharp exhale crackles through the modulator then he’s moving, hands leaving you to grasp his helmet and pull it off and you get a glimpse of those eyes you’ve been wishing to see again all day before he’s kissing you.
It’s soft and firm and frantic and steady all at the same time, his lips pressing so gently to yours while his hands grasp desperately at your waist, as if he’s afraid of hurting you and losing you at the same time.
You press yourself full-length against his frame, shiver as the cool of his breastplate seeps through your shirt, and sift your fingers through his hair, cup the back of his head and return his kiss with resolution, conveying your silent reassurance.
I’m ok.
The bone-deep tension he’d been holding releases in a tremor that runs through his body into yours and back again, reverberating, growing until both of you are trembling with the need to be as close to one another as possible.
Everything blurs, the lines between you and him disappear, his actions become your own, and you can’t tell who’s hand reaches behind you to key shut the bunk door, who’s feet guide the other’s down the length of the hold, who’s voice murmurs pleading sounds against who’s skin.
It’s more than just physical want. It’s something else entirely, an intuition, pulling you together. Weaving through the air, your touch, your shared breath, your heartbeats, frantic for more.
Pressing deeper, through emotion and thought and consciousness into the very core of your being.
It’s a single beat of a moment in time, only a few minutes at most, but it feels like eternity.
In flashes, pieces of your individual physicality come back - the cold durasteel at your back as he presses you to the wall of the hold, the scrape of his teeth over your bottom lip while he kisses you deep, then the shift of your weight when you push back, turn and twist until you’re both moving again, heading for a destination only vaguely marked in your mind, somewhere soft and safe that you can fall into with him.
You suddenly stumble, waver as your knee bumps into something - the edge of the bed.
A pause, then, a slowing of breaths and heartbeats, a calming of the frenetic energy.
Din’s grip on your waist holds you steady as you rebalance, come back into yourself, look down at the dim shape of the bed in the dark of the hold.
Was it only this morning you were slipping into wakefulness in this bed for the first time, awareness slowly pulling in sensations of warmth and safety and comfort, of Din?
When you’d sat on this bed, met his gaze and spoke words that bound you together in a way that transcends intimacy and connection?
A blink and you’re suddenly back there, in that moment, full of everything you’ve ever wanted but could never find hope for.
You turn back to him, cup his face in your hands, trace the curve of his jaw with a thumb, push the memory of the words past your raw throat. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”
His fingers flex, smooth over your hips, his voice rasping with the echo of your own emotion. “Mhi solus darasuum.”
A faded moment from the past flickers across your thoughts. In this very place, when you had realized happiness wasn’t a distant concept, it was something you could have, if you let yourself have it.
“How do you say ‘forever?’”
Pressing a kiss to his mouth, you stay close, let him feel your soft words. “We are one, forever.”
He returns the kiss with a small sigh. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You let the smile curve your lips, let joy swell behind your ribs, every emotion close to the surface, ready to burst out at the smallest opportunity.
“Can I… can I turn on the lights?”
The words are hesitant, you immediately jump to reassure him. “Din, I will never ask you to, but I will always welcome the chance to see you.”
This time his kiss is firmer, a growing passion behind it that makes your head spin. Then he’s pulling back, pressing a command into his vambrace and the lights of the hold blink on and -
Pfassk.
You’re reaching for him, fingers tracing his features. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, blinking them back open to meet your gaze and your heart stutters with a jolt of something so pure it must be joy.
The words fall from you with a shake of a giggle. “You’re so kriffing pretty.”
A blush dusts his cheekbones, crease forming between his brows as the corner of his mouth pulls up in bemusement. “And that’s funny?”
“Kinda.” You let the giggle loose, smoothing back an errant curl from his forehead. “People think you’re some serious, scary Mandalorian but you’ve got those eyes and -“ your thumb dips to trace his bottom lip - “these lips that practically beg to be kissed and -“
He silences you with those lips on your own, the vibration of his own embarrassed laughter shifting his chest under your palms as you hook your fingers over the edge of his breastplate to pull him close again.
A low sound rumbles in his throat, and he grasps your hands, guides them to the straps of the breastplate. Your breath hitches as he helps you unlock the clasps, a moan following quickly when his tongue coaxes your lips apart and slips inside.
He repeats the motion with his pauldrons, moving your fingers with his, but you’re distracted, hands twitching, practically useless as his mouth takes yours, nipping and lapping and pulling. That frantic energy swirls through your core, pushing arousal to the forefront.
The whimper that slips from you when he pulls back makes him still, look at you, gaze deep and all-consuming. Taking you in, from your clenching hands to the fast rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lips and eyes probably already hazy with want.
An answering want flares in his own gaze.
Then it’s a flurry of movement and he’s alternating between layering kisses on your mouth and the curve of your neck and removing his gear and armour. You try to help, fingers fumbling with the clasps and straps, focus wavering with each kiss that curls your toes in your boots until he’s slipping his flightsuit off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor and tugging his underlayer shirt over his head and -
Crikking hells.
Golden skin fills your vision, firm planes of muscle and the slight swell of his stomach and you can’t breathe, your entire body is frozen, thoughts trying to piece together the significance of this moment, of seeing this part of him you’ve never seen before, but all you can think is -
“Mesh’la.” You murmur the word as your hands glide over his chest, marvelling at the combined sensations of his skin under your palms and the sight of his muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.
Need sears hot through your core.
A rough whimper buzzes under your hands and he suddenly yanks you close, kissing you hard enough to make your knees bend with the force.
Another shift and he’s pushing you back, down, a hand moving behind you to brace your weight as you fall onto the bed, his lips following yours.
Your thighs part automatically, boot catching on the edge of the bed, and you groan in frustration, all of a sudden aware of every layer of clothing you’re still wearing, unnecessary barriers between your skin and his.
He pulls back, and a thrill of arousal curls into the growing heat of your desire at the fierce intent in his expression. His movements are quick and precise, pulling your boots off and tossing them aside, slipping his fingers under the hem of your leggings and underwear and tugging them down your legs and away.
Then he’s kneeling, not on the bed but on the floor, and his large hands grip your thighs, haul you to the edge of the mattress and push them apart.
Oh kriff -
Anticipation shivers down your spine, cool air swirls over your pussy, arousal arcs up in reaction -
His eyes are so dark, a brown that’s almost black, drawing you into their depths and you can’t look away, pinned in place by that gaze as he lowers his mouth, as his plush lips part, as his tongue slips out to swipe over your clit.
Crikking hells -
The moan that pushes from your chest sparks a flash of something in his eyes and he laps up the length of your cunt, tongue dipping inside to flick over your fluttering entrance, lap up your arousal already gathering there.
Your fingers fist into the blankets at your sides, a breath-taking wave of pleasure rolling through you. “Din -“
He groans in response, presses a wet kiss to your clit before swirling the tip of his tongue around it, then pulling it between his lips, the brown of his irises darkening impossibly more and you can’t, it’s so much, feeling the swipe of his tongue over your clit and the gentle suck of his lips and seeing those eyes, deep and devouring, watching you lose yourself.
You whimper, a wordless cry, your head falling back and eyes squeezing shut against the swarm of overwhelming pleasure radiating from your cunt, you hands tugging uselessly at the blankets as if they could keep you grounded and suddenly he’s shifting, his fingers twining through yours, gripping tight as his tongue slides down through your folds in a long, slow glide that sends a rush of slick from your core and sparks of blinding pleasure up your spine.
Again, he laps thickly at your entrance before pulling your clit in between his lips and pressing -
Your back arches sharply, words stuttering gasps. “Yes oh pfassk so good feels so good -“
He hums low and the vibration resonates through your core, pushing your pleasure higher. His lips press, rolling your clit between them with a barely-there suck and -
Your entire body shudders, fingernails digging into the backs of his hands.
Again and again, the press and pull -
Pleasure burns bright, building higher -
One of his hands leaves yours and a fingertip slides through your folds, presses to your entrance, and your hips instinctively rock forward, pushing it in with the motion -
He groans long and low as your cunt clenches around his finger, draws it in deep, and his tongue circles hot and firm over your clit and yes -
Lights flicker along the edge of your vision and your free hand dives into his hair as he slides another finger into your pussy.
He starts a rhythm, a barely-thrust with a crook of his fingertips along your inner walls and a squeeze-pull of his lips on your clit and you cry out, nails digging into his scalp, pleasure building up and up, higher -
Your voice cracks, pleads. “Din I’m gonna -“
His growl rumbles through your core, shoves your pleasure to the edge and a pulse of his fingers on that spot inside you is enough -
Bright wet heat -
Your body shudders through the wave, cunt squeezing his fingers tight, clit throbbing under the wet pressure of his lips and tongue as you come.
The drop punches the breath from your lungs, curves your back into your body with the force of it.
He withdraws his fingers and grips your thigh, smearing slick along your skin as he drags his tongue over your entrance, moans into your still-fluttering cunt.
You prop yourself up on an elbow, some urge driving you to look -
Crikking hells.
Another small wave of pleasure courses through your limbs, trembles in your thighs, and he opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours as his glistening tongue laps up your slick, brows creased in utter indulgence.
You’re falling, sinking into those dark brown depths and you need -
A sound full of raw desperation squeezes from your suddenly tight chest and he reacts immediately, rising up to press you back down into the mattress with a deep kiss that steals the end of your cry, fills your mouth with the taste of your own pleasure. It’s grounding, the weight of his chest on yours, but you need more -
Hooking your legs around his thighs you twist, push, and he rolls onto his back, hands curling around your waist to pull you with him.
A warm throb of fresh arousal pulses in your core as you settle, straddling his hips, his cloth-covered cock pressing tight to your cunt.
He grunts and rocks up, grinding his arousal along your wet heat. You bite your lip against the urge to close your eyes, sink into the delicious friction, keeping your gaze steady on his as your hands smooth down his chest.
Broad expanse of glowing skin, accentuating undeniable strength, unmarred by the few scars that are evidence of his ability to withstand, to succeed.
To survive and live.
The skin of your back prickles with an awareness that sinks deep into your thoughts, pulling something you’ve been trying to understand for a long time to the surface.
Your scars, those thick lines scattered across your back - they don’t mean what they used to.
Now, they’re just another part of you that you want to share with him, the last of your secrets.
You want him to see you. All of you.
There’s no hesitance, only absolute certainty.
You grasp the hem of your shirt, pull it up and over your head, toss it away.
The hands on your thighs grip hard as he stills beneath you. Those beautiful brown eyes are fixed on yours, wide with something like awe.
Your hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra, and the cool air swirls over your bare skin, pulls your nipples tighter.
He swallows hard, the rise and fall of his chest noticeable - he’s seen you like this before, but not quite, not without the security of your shirt covering your scars, and his voice holds his awareness of how important this moment is. “Tionas…”
You take his hands, bring them to your chest, press those long fingers over the swell of your breasts. “It’s ok.” A flash of memory, Mando’a words rise to the surface of your thoughts. “Gar haa’taylir ni, Din.”
His gaze softens, then he’s sitting up, one hand sliding around your back while the other cups your breast and his lips capture yours in a firm kiss.
The glide of his warm hand over your naked back sends a shiver down your spine. Your hips roll with it, your cunt grinding over his cloth-covered cock and he groans into your mouth, thumb brushing over your nipple before pinching it between his fingers.
Oh pfassk -
He shifts, lips leaving yours to trail along your collarbone, tongue flicking out over the curve of your breast.
Your instinct is to let your head fall back, close your eyes, lose yourself in feeling but you can’t, your gaze fixed on the way his plush lips close around your nipple, how his large hand cups your other breast with restrained want, so obviously cautious not to squeeze too hard, how the curve of his jaw shifts as his tongue works over your breast.
He nips lightly with his teeth and pleasure shivers through your body.
Yes -
Your fingers dive into his hair, nails dig into his scalp and he grunts, nips again and the lightening-hot sensation arcs down your spine, hips rolling with its force, amplifying it as the head of his cock catches on your clit and sends tiny sparks across your hips.
He laves at your nipple, hand on your back pushing to press it further into his mouth as he sucks gently, and it’s so good and your entire body shudders at the sudden weight of your need, cunt clenching around aching emptiness.
Your fingers tug on his curls, unsure if you’re trying to bring him closer or pull him away so you can kiss that perfect mouth of his.
Another roll of your hips, his cock twitches against your folds and he pulls off your breast, presses his forehead to your chest as a rush of your hot slick soaks his underlayer. “Fuck, I need to be inside you -“
You rock your hips into his again, panting at the drag of wet fabric over your sensitive clit. “Yes, please -“
His answering moan crackles along your damp skin and he pulls back, looks up at you and kriff he’s so beautiful, expression pulled tight with want and pupils blown wide, lips swollen with his efforts to pull pleasure from your body.
Pfassk. You want him so bad it hurts.
And you want to give him all of you.
His brows pull together in confusion as you shift off his lap, out of his embrace, until you cup his face in your hands. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you meet that dark, deep gaze. “I want you to make me feel you everywhere.”
Understanding blooms in his eyes as you slide up the bed, holding his gaze until you turn away, lay down, settle on your stomach into the well-worn blankets, curving your arms to pillow your head.
Air ghosts over the heated skin of your naked back.
He’s silent behind you, but his hands immediately settle on your hips, warm and reassuring. You can feel his gaze, tracing the scars cutting up the skin of your back, but no fear grips your heart, no shame curls in your stomach.
It’s ok. You’re safe with him.
A movement, he kneels between your thighs and you spread your legs further to accommodate him.
His hands slowly shift, sliding up your sides, coming together over your shoulderblades.
You close your eyes, arch into his touch.
A soft kiss, the barely-there press of lips to the small of your back pulls a whimper from your throat.
Another, and another, tracing your spine, up between his hands, blessing your scars with love and acceptance so profound it wraps around every memory you have of receiving them, of hiding them, and blurs the edges until the memories no longer hurt.
He pauses at the nape of your neck, resting there, breath warm as it drifts down your back.
No words break the silence, but they don’t have to.
There are no words to suitable for this moment, anyway.
His hands sweep down your back, and the bed shifts with his weight.
You look over your shoulder to see him standing, hook his thumbs into the waistband of his underlayer pants and pull them down.
A surge of want curls your toes, clenches your inner walls.
Long legs, toned thighs -
Pfassk -
His cock, golden skin flushed at the tip, glinting with the wet proof of his arousal -
Your mouth waters, your clit throbs -
You’ve felt it, heavy in your palm, warm and smooth on your tongue, thick and full in your cunt but now you know -
Even his cock is pretty.
He moves, kneeling back between your thighs and your gaze is caught by his again, that look of concentrated focus back on his features, and a rush of heat floods your core.
You rise up on your elbows, reach back a hand to guide his mouth to yours, push every emotion - gratitude, awe, love, trust - into your kiss.
He returns it, moan filling your mouth as you part your lips, glide your tongue along his.
His chest presses to your back - pleasure goosebumps over your skin, feeling his bare warmth on yours - and you gasp, breaking the kiss to pull back and just look at him, wonder at the intimacy of this moment overwhelming your focus.
The soft depth in his eyes tells you he feels it, too.
A gentle kiss between your brows and then he braces himself on one hand, the other sliding down between your thighs to -
Kriff -
Your moan shifts to a whimper at the end, the head of his cock dipping through your slick folds feels so good and you need -
Arching your hips, you curl your fingers around his wrist, tugging lightly. “Please, Din, need you.”
A shift and -
Your mingled sounds of pleasure catch in the small space between you as his cock notches into your entrance, pushes inside -
Yes yes more -
The stretch bows your back and pulls him deeper -
He sinks home with a low groan, free hand pressing over your collarbone, head falling to the crook of your neck. “So wet and warm, feels so good, fuck -“
Your inner walls flutter, cunt begging for friction, and he draws back, slow and steady, sending curls of pleasure through your core. “Yes like that -“
Thrust deep -
The head of his cock grinds over something that shoves a cry from your throat, ripples pleasure through your core.
He does it again -
Again and again -
Your orgasm blossoms bright out of nowhere -
Oh pfassk -
You grip his wrist hard, head dropping to the blankets as pleasure blasts through your limbs. “Din I’m -“
Words choke off with the next thrust and you’re suddenly right there, at the edge, and it’s big and -
His hand slides to your shoulder, holds you in place as he thrusts quick one two three -
Bright wet heat -
Pleasure whites out your vision and squeezes the breath from your lungs and your cunt so tight around the thick of his cock -
Your arms give out under the weight of it but he holds you there, grip firm on your shoulder as he fucks you through it -
He buries deep, hips pressed tight to your ass, stilling, and finally the wave crashes over you, rolls through your body, tenses every muscle until it breaks.
A last pulse of pleasure and you’re trembling, something like a sob muffled in the blankets against your lips as he eases you down.
Your senses are scrambled, scattered, blurred with the aftershocks that keep quivering through you.
Gradually they pull back together, focused on the singular point of his lips, soft and pressing gentle kisses along the span of your shoulders.
You reach up, curl your fingers through his hair, turn your face to find those lips with your own.
He kisses you so softly, and love pulses through the warm bright thing in your chest.
His cock twitches against your sensitive inner walls, still hard and thick, deep in your cunt.
The primal need to feel him, feel everything crawls through your senses and takes hold.
Your teeth graze his plump bottom lip. “Need you, love. Fill me up with you. Gedet’ye.”
He hisses as you clench around him, hand shifting to press over your heartbeat, pull your weight back against him as he thrusts again, a sharp snap of his hips that ripples pleasure through your body.
Crikking hells -
He picks up a rapid pace, one that jolts hot sharp pleasure into your core with each slap of his hips against your ass, each shove of his cock deep into your cunt.
Pleasure builds up and up, more and more -
Yes yes yes -
Another thrust another again -
He pulls back just a bit, his free hand cups your face and you look up at him, your gaze meets his and -
Time stands still, thoughts flickering randomly through the pleasure haze.
Deep brown, warm and full of something profound -
More than simple love -
Is love simple?
His thumb brushes over the curve of your cheek, through the moisture there -
Are you crying?
Yes, love is simple compared to this, this fullness, this sense of belonging.
This sense of home.
The peripheral of your vision catches the glow of his bare chest, shoulders, the soft fall of his hair, the play of muscles in his arms as he flexes his hips against yours again.
Your world is filled with him.
Senses fragment, each pulsing through your veins and pushing your pleasure higher.
The warmth of him, bare skin pressed along your naked back -
Slick slide of his cock pushing apart your inner walls, slotting into the place imprinted with the shape of him -
Wet sounds of the suck of your cunt trying to pull him deeper -
Ache of your thighs as they flex, arch your body into his, silently begging for more, more -
It rips through you suddenly -
Your pleasure, bright hot -
He growls, brow creasing and eyelids fluttering and he thrusts hard again and again and -
Hot slick wet -
Your core floods with warmth, his and yours, pleasure combined -
So good -
Perfection -
Both of you pulled together, entwined.
No more barriers, no more secrets.
Souls laid bare and embraced with compassion, understanding.
This moment anchors in place, frozen, and you know that even when time starts again, a part of you and a part of him will be here, always.
The release crashes on you both, a drop that shudders through you and has you falling into the blankets, his body splayed over yours, warm weight pressing you into the mattress and surrounding your senses with him.
A breath. A beat.
Time moves slowly, lazily pulling you along.
Pulses steady, pleasure-haze clears, contentment settles in.
Din sighs gently, his chest shifting against your back and he kisses the curve of your shoulder. “Kar’ta isn’t enough. You’re more than my heart, ner runi.”
There’s a reverence in his voice that threatens to close your throat without you even knowing the meaning of his words.
You turn enough to look at him, cup his face, trace the laugh lines around his eyes with a fingertip. “What does it mean?”
His eyes meet yours, warm and steady. “‘Ner’ is ‘my.’ And ‘runi’ is an old word, not used often anymore. But it’s the only one I know that comes close to what you are to me.”
He leans down, kisses your lips, lingers there. “‘Runi.’ It means ‘soul.’”
The warm bright thing in your chest swells, presses against the inside of your ribs until it hurts.
Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you push out words that have been quietly swirling at the back of your mind for a long time now. “How do you say ‘stars’ in Mando’a?”
A pause, his gaze flickering over your features. “Ka’ra.”
You kiss one of those bare patches along his jaw. “Do you remember -“ a hitch in your voice, those tears clenching your throat - “when we sat in that clearing, and I told you how much the night means to me? How I looked at the stars since I was a child?”
His gaze softens. “Of course, tionas.”
Your smile is automatic, an intrinsic response to the term of endearment. “Din, you’re what I looked for. In the night sky.”
A tremor runs through him, understanding widening those beautiful eyes.
You stroke along the curve of his jaw, watching the path of your fingers. “In those dark places where there was light that my eyes couldn’t quite see. You were there. The home I was searching for. The stars I was meant for.”
Emotion shimmers over his gaze and you blink back your own, push the last words out. “You’re my stars, Din. Ner ka’ra.”
He kisses you, soft at first and then firm, with a familiarity that makes the warm bright thing in your chest expand, grow, encompassing your body and reaching for his.
It’s a moment full of eternity.
He pulls back, rests his forehead against yours and everything is in his dark gaze. “I was there, ner runi. And now I’m here, where I will always be. With you. Darasuum.”
“Mhi solus darasuum.” You echo back his words, full of an everything of your own.
He smiles - blinding bright light - and then his lips are on yours.
It’s perfect. It’s everything.
His arms come around you, ease you onto your side, and you settle into the bed, back against his broad chest.
You reach for his hand, thread your fingers through his and tuck it over your heart. “I like Mando’a, it’s a beautiful language. Will you teach me more?”
A pleased hum against your back. “What would you like to learn?”
The thrill of anticipation, playfulness, pulls a laugh from your chest. “I’m sure you can guess.”
He sighs, but there’s no weight to it, sound full of the same lightness you feel. “Shabla. Probably the crudest curse word. Don’t use it around other Mandalorians, it can be taken as an insult.”
“Noted. Can’t promise I won’t though, if we see Cranky Pants again.”
This time his sigh is exasperated, but still rooted in that effervescent joy running through your own veins. “Mir’sheb.”
*****
It’s late. There’s a heavy sort of silence laying thick in the air, the kind that can only be found in the depths of night, when every living thing around is at its quietest - limbs and muscles relaxed, heartbeats and lungs moving slow and steady.
You open your eyes, blink against the pitch-dark of the hold. Something pulled you from sleep, but it wasn’t a sound, or a movement - it was something internal, an urge, a need.
For what?
Din is sleeping beside you, arm heavy and warm across your waist, cheek resting on your shoulder, breath ghosting over your collarbone. All it takes is a subtle motion and your nose is buried in his sleep-mussed curls, lips pressed to the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him.
You close your eyes, your thumb lightly stroking circles where your hand rests on the arm over your waist, silently ask the part of you that brought you into wakefulness.
This?
Did you need to feel him, reassure yourself that he’s here with you? Thoughts flick back through the night, smile curving your lips as memories of beautiful brown eyes and golden skin and words laced with emotion float through your mind.
Still, that strange compulsion doesn’t cease, swirling and incessant, making your legs twitch with the urge to move.
Din shifts, breath stuttering, his arm tightening to pull you closer as if sensing your sudden desire to get up.
Your heart flutters with the gesture, at his obvious inherent need to keep you close. But you can’t resist the call any longer.
Gently, you ease yourself out of his embrace, murmuring soft reassurances when he half-wakes, slip out of bed and dig for your shirt and underwear in the piles of clothing scattered over the floor.
He sighs heavily, and the blankets rustle as he settles back in.
You bite your lip, hold back the giggle that threatens to slip free.
The fact his bounty hunter instincts didn’t instantly shift him from sleep to full awareness is a testament to how the events of yesterday - and your activities tonight - exhausted him.
It’s sweet, endearing.
And too kriffing cute.
The durasteel is cold on your bare feet, your shirt barely keeping out the chill of the air, goosebumps prickling over your skin as you make your way down the length of the hold, letting your instinct take you where it will.
You can’t really see much but memory moves you past obstacles, sidestepping storage crates and skirting around the corner until you find yourself coming to a stop in front of the kid’s bunk, keying open the door and turning on the light inside the small space.
The flood of dim light barely illuminates the hold but you can clearly see big, amber eyes blinking at you, large pointed ears lifting with excitement.
You smile, reach into the hammock and scoop him into your arms, pitching your voice low so as not to disturb the heavy quiet surrounding you. “Hey, kiddo. What are you doing up?”
The kid coos softly, tiny clawed hand curling into the cloth of your shirt, eyes bright and clear of any sleep fog.
“Figured you’d be exhausted like your dad.” You huff a laugh. “Figured I’d be exhausted, too, actually. But here we are, huh?”
He babbles in the way you know means he’s happy, and it’s infectious, pulling another laugh from you.
A barely-there sound behind you, the step of someone who can move with complete silence but doesn’t want to startle you.
The kid squirms in your arms, lifting himself to look over your shoulder. You follow his gaze, pulse fluttering when the dim light glances off the familiar helmet, outlines the tall, broad frame dressed in black underlayer.
Din slides a hand across your back, soothing, and tweaks the tip of the kid’s ear. “Everything ok?”
The sleep-rasp of his voice through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and his fingers trace it with obvious affection, palm settling in the small of your back.
You look down at the kid, smile when those bright eyes turn back to you, wide and full of the same emotion pulsing through the warm bright thing in your chest.
Leaning back against the steady warmth of him, you take a deep breath, let it out, and sink into the sense of home that surrounds you. “Yeah. Everything is perfect.”
*****
Mando’a translations
Tionas - question
Cyar’ika - sweetheart
Kar’ta - heart
Mesh’la - beautiful
*****
I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING
Jk I’m definitely crying 😭
I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who reads this fic. The fact that you’re willing to give these characters some of your precious time is incredibly humbling as a writer.
Those of you who interacted with this fic with likes and empty reblogs - I want you to know that I saw every single one, got worried when you didn’t like or reblog it in the timeframe you usually did because I thought either I had completely bungled the chapter or something bad had happened to you. Please know you were seen and appreciated.
Those of you who comment, dm and generally scream into the void with me about this fic - there are no words to describe how much you mean to me. Your comments are direct fuel for my motivation and I reread them when I’m at my lowest.
I have more to say to those who supported this fic from the beginning through to its completion, but I’m saving that for another post, so for now just know that you have given me the strength to reach this point, where I’m writing a thank you at the end of the first novel I’ve ever completed after several failed attempts to do so throughout my life. Your contribution in the form of your unwavering support makes this as much your achievement as it is mine. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you ❤️
Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but series as a whole)
Word Count: 3500
Warnings, etc.: a smidge of angst, a sprinkling of banter, and a sickening amount of fluffy feels #sorrynotsorry
Notes: I don’t even know what to say. This can be considered the penultimate chapter of this fic, even though the story’s not quite done yet. But everything has been building to this step for our bbys, and I hope I’m doing them justice.
We’re definitely in AU territory with this chapter, since Mando S2, TBOBF and S3 wouldn’t have rolled out the way they did if Din had come to this point in his relationship with his creed. Again, I hope I’m doing right by his character, and giving him the arc he deserves.
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
Soft.
Your muscles are loose and languid, heavy, pressing into the yielding surface under your body.
Warm.
Soothing heat radiates from beside you, frissons sweeping through your chest from the comforting weight on the middle of your back.
Safe.
Familiar scents and sounds drift through your sleep-dulled senses, reinforcing that subconscious recognition of the steady presence at your side, one that will protect you and defend you from any and all harm.
Din.
Your heartbeat flutters as sleep slips away, smile automatically curving your lips against the edge of the blanket.
One by one, those vague impressions that pulled you into the waking world form into physical sensations - the well-known noises and smells of the Razor Crest, the mattress under you as you lay on your stomach, the tall, broad body stretched out next to yours, the large hand resting flat on your back.
The even and sure breath of the man beside you, quickened enough to tell you he’s already awake.
You blink open your eyes to the dark night cycle of the hold, peer in his direction. “Din? Are you ok?”
His hand on your back flexes slightly, smoothing up over your nightshirt to rest between your shoulderblades. “I’m fine, cyar’ika.”
There’s some kind of emotion in his voice you can’t identify, and concern twinges behind your ribs. You shift closer, turning onto your side, reaching a hand out to him to find him facing you, spread your fingers over his chest.
His heartbeat thuds under your palm, faster than usual, and that twinge grows tight around your own heart. “Can’t sleep?”
His chest moves with a heavy breath, not quite a sigh. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?” You stroke your thumb in small, soothing circles over his underlayer.
“My Creed.”
The last dregs of sleep whisk away as an anxious tension stills your movements. Taking a steadying breath, you keep your voice light, unassuming. “Heavy thoughts for so late at night.”
This time he does sigh, his hand on your back pressing lightly as he shifts closer to you. “Almost morning. Day cycle starts in about an hour.”
He matches your tone, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety from finally bubbling up, looking to reassure him. “I meant what I said, Din. I love you, all of you. I respect your Creed, and the oath you swore.”
A pause, his heartbeat races against your palm. The tension thickens, your own chest grows tight, what is wrong -
His voice is so soft you can barely hear it over the rush of your pulse in your ears.
“I broke my oath when I took my helmet off that first night on Nevarro.”
You’re staring at him, eyes wide, even though you can’t see him. “What?”
“The Creed doesn’t allow for darkness or blindfolds. If you remove your helmet or if it’s removed for you in the presence of others, you are considered no longer Mandalorian.”
Why had -
No -
You can’t -
Guilt crashes into you with a force that almost punches a whimper from your throat, caught at the last second and trapped behind clenched teeth.
It’s your fault.
You came into his life and he betrayed his people -
His hand on your face brings you back to the moment, stalls your spiral. He cups your cheek, tilting your head up so he can press a kiss to your forehead, words falling over skin too warm with emotion.
“It’s not your fault. I made the choice. And I would do it again, with no hesitation.”
You squeeze your eyes tight, force the guilt back so his words can sink in, calming.
A breath, another, and anxiety still laps at the edges of your awareness, but at bay for now.
Swallowing against a dry throat, you gently pat his chest once, a wordless reassurance that you’re alright.
He kisses your forehead again, pulling back a little so you can hear him clearly, speaking with resolute confidence, words obviously repeated and examined for any flaw, any hesitance or uncertainty, and determined to be only truth.
“I gave my people everything I am. My name, my identity, my self - I stopped being Din Djarin when I swore the Creed. In their eyes, I became Mandalorian. Something of value.”
A sort of bitterness turns his voice down at the end, tingeing the soft words, bleeding into them. “But remove my helmet, take off the mask, and they no longer consider me one of them. They only see me as Mandalorian, or not.”
Your hand flexes on his chest instinctively, wanting to take away that bitterness and soothe the source of it, words on the tip of your tongue but you bite them back, let him continue, sensing he needs to finish what he wants to say.
“I’ve thought about what it means to be a Mandalorian. And what it means to be a man.” A pause, his chest rises under your palm. “I think they are the same, in many ways. Both should care for the ones they love and try to protect them from harm. Support those who support them. Live with honour and respect for others.”
He sighs, a sound heavy and soft at the same time, weighted with regret. “But my people don’t believe that. They would have me be one or the other. Mandalorian or man.”
You can’t stop the whimper this time, tiny and hushed but slipping out all the same. The frustration - pain - that he has suffered, trying to be what his people want him to be, denying parts of himself in an effort to fit into the rigid mold they made for him…
He obviously hears your muffled sound, lips brushing your skin in reassurance. “I know now in my heart I am both. I am a Mandalorian. I am Din Djarin. And you see me, tionas. A Mandalorian, and a man.”
Another kind of emotion grips your heart tight, pushes you deeper into his embrace, fingers curling into the cloth of his underlayer as if you could pull him close enough to take him into you, take away his pain. “I see all of you, my love.”
His heartbeat throbs against your hand, breath catches in his chest. “Not all. Not yet.”
Then he’s moving, pulling away from you and there’s a rustle of motion beside the bed and you sit up in surprise, almost reaching out to stop him.
What happened -
Why -
The lights flick on, blinding.
Pfassk.
You clap your hands over your eyes, panic surging hot up the back of your throat. “What - wait, I’ll see -“
The bed dips as he sits beside you. “I know. I want you to.”
Your pulse thuds loud in your ears, so hard it’s almost choking. “Din -“
“It’s alright. I need you to see me. All of me. Please.”
Long fingers curl around your wrists, not pulling but there, a reminder that he knows what he’s doing, he wants this, and everything that this means.
Your thoughts fly in a million different directions at once.
What does this mean?
It’s -
There’s -
We -
Too much too many thoughts and you can’t -
Everything -
This means everything.
A tremor runs through your body.
Everything is different with you.
Your mind quiets, centres. Focuses. On this moment.
He wants this. To share a part of himself that he’s never shared with anyone else before.
Your own words float through the chaos of your thoughts, words first spoken a lifetime ago.
Whatever you can give me. I’ll take it.
Your lungs pull tight.
I’ll take it.
You relax your hands.
Let him guide them away from your closed eyes.
A calloused thumb brushes your cheekbone.
His voice rasps gently. “Open your eyes, tionas.”
A pause. An eternity.
You open your eyes.
The entire world shifts -
brightens -
blossoms -
glows -
You blink -
The world is golden skin and tousled dark hair -
Skin you’ve mapped with your hands, hair you’ve sifted through your fingers countless times -
The world is a graceful arch of a nose and a strong brow and plush lips -
Lips that have pressed to every inch of your body -
Your heart stops -
The world is brown eyes, warm and gentle, a gaze that holds everything you’ve ever looked for, everything you’ve ever wanted.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t think.
Moments pass and a tension grows thick in the air, buzzing along your skin, and you crack, instinct taking over, words falling from your lips without thought.
“You could have warned me you look like the lead actor from one of those HoloNet dramas you love.”
That warm, brown gaze sparks, those plush lips quirk ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen one.”
Your own lips spread wide in a grin and then you’re kissing him and his strong hands curve around your waist to pull you close and the world condenses into just this, the two of you, right here.
Time passes, somewhere, and you pull away, some undeniable urge bringing your gaze back to his, your fingertips tracing those laugh lines you’d felt for the first time so long ago - are they deeper now? - where they flare across his skin beautifully, frame those dark eyes that draw you in for another kiss.
A soft sigh weaves it’s way up from your lungs as you pull back again, cup his jaw, smooth a thumb over the light scruff there, note the sweet little bare patches on either side of his chin, then meet that gaze with all the sincerity you feel. “Thank you, for giving this to me.”
His features shift, setting so seriously it takes you a moment to realize nothing is wrong, that’s just a typical expression for him. “I would give you everything.”
There’s a certain weight to the last word that makes you blink, look at him closer.
A small furrow forms between his brows. “I want you - and others - to know this, beyond doubt and question. Because in my mind, there is none. I know I still follow The Way, and I follow it with you.”
You can’t help but lift a thumb to smooth that furrow, your heartbeat stuttering at the subsequent smile he gives you - bright, warm, beautiful. “I’m with you, Din. Step by step, together.”
His smile flutters, torn between growing and falling back into sombreness. That brown gaze flits away, and back again, as if he’s unsure of what he’s about to say.
Leaning in, you kiss him gently, a silent reassurance, then pull back and wait patiently.
He looks at you for a long moment, expression softening. A deep breath, then his words fall quietly between you.
“There is a vow, among Mandalorians, that binds two people together.”
Your thoughts flash, quick.
I would give you everything.
You know what kind of vow he’s talking about.
Funny, though.
Your heart beats steadily, your muscles relaxed. No anxiety turns your stomach, tightens around your ribcage, squeezes your throat.
There’s no panic. No worry. No nagging voices trying to pull you away, make you run, hide. No whispering thoughts churning out fear and doubt.
You’re ready take whatever he gives you.
And give him everything in return.
You listen calmly, watching the myriad of emotions dance across his expression as he continues.
“The vow itself is simple. To raise any young ones in your care as Mandalorians, teach them to fight and to live with honour. To share everything that life brings, to celebrate or bear it together. And to always be of one heart, no matter what might try to come between you.”
His last words ring with familiarity, and you smile. “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”
Regret pinches the corners of his eyes. “Yes. I shouldn’t have… I should have told you what that meant - could mean. But there are more words to the vow that we haven’t spoken. You’re not sworn to anything.”
This man.
This wonderful mass of contrasts and layers.
Who so confidently guides your own fears away, keeps you rooted to the present, soothes the edges of your anxiety with ease.
Here, before you, with nervousness pulling his brow, deepening the lines around his mouth.
You soothe those lines away with a brush of your fingers. “I want to be.”
He falters. “Tionas, I need to be sure you understand what this vow means. It’s -“
“A marriage vow?” Your mouth curves up in a smile at the look of mild shock on his face.
“Yes.”
“I know. I understand.”
A mixture of doubt and hope lift his brows. “And you still want…”
“Yes, I still want.” You huff a laugh, an overwhelming giddy lightness pulling the sound from your chest.
“Are you -“
“Crikking hells, Din, I want to marry you.” Your words dissolve into giggles, hand leaving his face to push lightly on his chest.
His features shift into a beautiful combination of joy and delight, smile curling his mouth. “Of course you would curse and then laugh at me when I’m proposing to you.”
It takes a deep breath but you finally get yourself under control. “You should know what you’re getting into.”
He sighs in mock exasperation. “I’m aware.”
Another push on his chest and a giggle slips past your lips. “Just tell me what to do.”
He takes your hand from his chest, and presses a kiss to your palm. “Repeat the Mando’a after me.”
You nod, squeezing his hand once.
For a moment he just looks at you, something like reverence glowing in his gaze. When he speaks, his words are hushed and weighty.
“We are one when together. Mhi solus tome.”
Your voice is steady and unwavering, sure. “Mhi solus tome.”
“We are one when parted. Mhi solus dar’tome.”
“Mhi solus dar’tome.”
The tiniest sliver of anxiety breaks through your contentment at the last word, and you shy away from the thought of being parted from him. He takes your other hand and twines your fingers through his, lets them rest on the blankets between the two of you.
He is here and you are here, right now, together.
Your calm settles over you once again, and he continues.
“We share all. Mhi me’dinui an.”
“Mhi me’dinui an.” Your tongue slips on the unfamiliar words, but you catch it, push through as images flit through the back of your mind.
Soft voices under a starry sky on a quiet little planet -
A small box full of trinkets and the heavy weight of guilt unresolved -
Gentle fingertips smoothing over skin littered with scars -
Quiet laughter blending together in the dark of the hold -
His gaze is soft, voice weaving through the memories. “We will raise warriors. Mhi ba’juri verde.”
Big, amber eyes, tiny clawed hands that reach for you -
Soft coos and bright babbles and the curious flick of wide ears -
The barely-there weight of a little form curled into the crook of your arm -
Tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Mhi ba’juri verde.”
His hands release yours to cup your face as he kisses you firmly and the warm, bright thing in your chest bursts into a thousand lights that race across the universe.
You’re dizzy, swaying, drunk on the rolling waves of emotion that cascade over you again and again. You break the kiss, gasping for air, lungs shaking with laughter, and he smiles at you and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Your fingers trace the curve of his lips, the sweep of his cheekbone, the arch of his nose. He closes his eyes, revelling in your touch, but that won’t do, you want to see those brown eyes that hold everything and you brush the pad of your thumb along the corner of his eye, echoing his words.
“Open your eyes, Din.”
He blinks, creases sharpening as his smile deepens, but his gaze darts away again. “I wasn’t sure if… if you would…”
Realization makes you pause.
He’s nervous.
About his appearance.
It makes sense, he’s never experienced any sort of reaction to his physical self - the one beneath the beskar. He can’t know what others might think of how he looks, because you’re the only one who has seen him.
He doesn’t know how beautiful he is.
You lean back, hold his chin up with the tip of your finger, peering closely as if considering his features. “I’m still right.”
Confusion, uncertainty flicker through that brown gaze. “About what?”
It takes effort to hold back the laughter, incredulous at the thought that he would doubt your attraction to him. “You’re very oglable.”
Surprise - bashfulness - delight -
The golden skin along his cheekbones flushes pink and -
Kriff. He’s blushing.
You can’t stop the laughter anymore, watching emotion scramble his expression. All those years spent under a helmet are obvious, he’s never had to school his features or been aware of what others might read on his face.
It’s ridiculously endearing, seeing this seemingly somber and stoic Mandalorian fluster and blush.
Then he’s moving, lightning fast, and pushing you down onto the mattress, pulling himself over you to press his lips to yours and steal your breath away.
A soft sigh against your cheek, the gentle swipe of his tongue along your bottom lip and you open to him, wrap your arms around his shoulders and lose yourself in the slow, languid glide of his kiss, the feel of his broad frame over you, the warmth of his hands on your back, the beat of his heart pressed against yours.
The sound of a muffled babble breaks into the moment, and the rest of the world seeps through.
Din groans as he pulls back, glancing in the direction of the bunk. “Kid has the worst timing.”
“If we can figure out what makes him sleep late some days, we’ll be set.” You tilt your chin to press a kiss to one of the bare patches along his jaw.
Another babble floats through the hold, this one ringing with insistence.
And if history repeats itself, the next sound will be much louder, full of indignation, and followed by the thump of tiny fists on the door of the bunk.
It pushes the two of you into reluctant action, Din moving to stand until you grasp his arm. “Let me get him. You stay here and think about how pretty you are.”
He huffs his laugh - your heart stutters, seeing the way his eyes light, the hint of that blush on his cheeks - and shifts aside to let you slip out of bed, fingers grazing your thigh as you stand. “Thank you.”
The seriousness in his voice makes you pause, look down at him. “For calling you pretty?”
“For saying yes.”
Your stomach dips at the curve of his brow, pulled up in earnestness. “As if I’d saying anything else.” Bending to kiss that brow, smooth a curl of his hair back into place, you hold his gaze firmly with yours. “I love you, Din.”
He rests his hands on your hips, brown gaze soft with love. “I love you, tionas.”
A sharp cry from the bunk snaps your attention. “Ok, ok, I’m coming.”
One last kiss and you reluctantly step away from him, grab your clothes to pull them on as you make your way to rescue the grumpy little green dude who’s now banging on the bunk door with more force than should be possible for one his size.
The memory of that brown gaze, mingled with the echo of those solemn words, hovers in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. Your entire body feels lighter and more solid somehow, floating and yet rooted in place. It’s disorienting and wonderful at the same time.
Every tilt of the helmet, every modulated word seems so much more, now. Your mind overlays the image of his features, showing those lines around his eyes crinkle when he huffs his laugh at the kid’s antics, the warm brown of his gaze when the black visor turns toward you.
You drift to each other at every opportunity, hands reaching out to touch and grasp and hold. Like you can’t resist being near the other and not feel them, needing them to be closer.
Those solemn words are knotted around your hearts, inextricable, and it pulls tight whenever there’s distance between you.
Even now, him seated in the pilot’s chair, you and the kid in the passengers’, watching the dwarf planet in the Pax system draw closer through the transparisteel. You can feel it, that pull, the desire to reach out and feel the one who shares your heart.
Din’s gloved hands move confidently over the control console and the Razor Crest shifts into the landing sequence. The helmet turns, black visor glancing back at you, and you smile, seeing those eyes full of love behind it.
The planet looms big and the transparisteel goes white as the ship enter’s the atmosphere, breaking through cloud cover.
You watch it pass, fear and anxiety a barely-there presence in the back of your mind.
Because you know, without doubt or question, no matter what awaits you on the surface, nothing can come between the two of you.
Warnings, etc.: tooth-rotting fluffy banter, these two are ridiculous, a tender moment that punched me right in the feels when I wrote it, oh and smutty smut smut, classic P in the V, oral f!receiving, probably unrealistically high standard of pussy eating but what are we here for if not to live vicariously through fictional characters, kinda roughish sex
Notes: Lol well. It’s definitely not still Saturday in my part of the world but it’s still Saturday somewhere so let’s just say this update is on time, shall we?
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
“You think he’s going to regret it in the morning?”
“No.” A pause, a huff of amusement through the modulator. “Greef’s love of showing off outranks any remorse for spending credits.”
The hotel room - the one Greef had insisted on paying for as a reward for you putting that Weequay in his place - is a single room but spacious, with a decent-sized refresher. You’re already looking forward to a long, hot shower in the morning, but the thing you’re excited about most sits along the far wall, under a large window over looking the lava flats.
Since joining Din and the kid, sleeping in an actual bed is a rare enough occurrence that your muscles twitch with the memory of a mattress underneath you as soon as your gaze lands on the bed.
Not that you’re complaining. Nothing could make you give up the feel of a warm, broad Mandalorian under your shared blankets.
But if those shared blankets happened to be on top of an actual bed, well. Even better.
Shucking your jacket, you toss it over a nearby sitting chair, toe off your boots and move straight to the bed.
The mattress is giving, plush under your limbs. You settle back against the headboard and close your eyes with a sigh, letting your legs stretch out, muscles loosening as the pillows behind you form around your lower back. The blankets are smooth and soft, some kind of fine-woven cloth, slightly cool to the touch. Your fingertips idly trace the folds where they wrinkle around your body.
Kriff, yes. It’s perfection, it’s bliss, it’s…
Emptier than you’d prefer at the moment.
Opening your eyes again, you watch Din finish tucking the kid into his pod - the little dude had passed out on the walk from the cantina, tired after a rude awakening in the early morning and a day of socializing. A gentle nudge sends the pod drifting into the closet, leaving the two of you alone.
Your throat is suddenly dry, and you reach for the bottle of Savareen you’d set on the table, taking a sip. There’s only a few mouthfuls left, most of what you’d taken back to the table had been shared with Greef and Cara.
The walk had sobered you up, cool, fresh night air filling your lungs and clearing your mind. Which was good, because you’re already slightly dizzy with the arousal that’s been pulsing between your thighs for the past couple hours.
Tension has been palpable between you and Din since the cantina, simmering beneath the surface, warming your skin, pooling under the place where he had gripped your thigh. You can still feel it, the imprint of his hand tingling with the rhythm of steadily building need.
The helmet tilts to look at you, beskar glinting in the dim lamplight, black visor cutting through bright silver to shaded grey where shadows fall across it.
He’s all light and dark, layers and contrasts. Strength and power and compassion and insightfulness.
Your love for him squeezes your chest tight.
The feeling grows, flares out through your body, curving your mouth into a smile. “You’re pretty.”
His soft huff of laughter echoes the whisper of his cowl as he pulls it off, draping it over your jacket. “That’s the namana talking.”
“Namana doesn’t affect how you feel, just loosens your tongue. I think you’re pretty all the time, I just don’t say it - don’t want to tarnish that whole stoic and aloof warrior thing you’ve got going on.”
He hums doubtfully, setting his gloves on the table and starting to pull off his boots.
You tilt your head to let your gaze drift over his form, long legs and strong thighs flexing with his motions. “I thought you were the Most Observant Man in the Galaxy. How have you not noticed me ogling you constantly?”
“‘Ogling?’” He pauses taking off his bandolier to look at you.
“Yeah, ogling. You’re very oglable.”
“‘Oglable’ is not a word.” His voice shakes with restrained laughter.
Your smile shifts into a grin, giddiness catching. “It is now. Definition: you.”
The modulator crackles with his chuckle as he takes off his belt, leaving his tall, broad frame clad in his armour. He approaches the bed, and you scoot over to make room, immediately scooting back to settle against the line of his body.
That tension buzzes, pulling you closer. The promise of something hovers on the air, and you’re hyperaware of everything, the way the mattress cups your body, the feel of his warm and solid pressed against you.
Even though he’s still in armour, the little signs of his trust in you are right there - in the curve of his neck and shoulders, no longer buried under his cowl. In the golden skin of his hands, unbound by leather. In the graceful arch of his feet, only covered by black socks -
Pfassk. You’re mooning over his socks.
You’ve really got it bad for him.
He reaches for the bottle of Savareen, lifting it up to the light and swirling gently, voice low and thoughtful. “What makes the gold flakes? I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”
“Most Observant Man, indeed.” You point to the gold wax seal imprinted with three berries. “Namana berries have a protein string that crystallizes when boiled to a certain temperature. That’s why I chose to distill with the berries - the Namana Effect was just a selling feature.”
Your fingertip traces the edge of the seal. “I thought it was fascinating, that something so small to our world perspective can be so beautiful.”
His free hand cups your cheek, turns your gaze toward him. The warmth of his palm on delicate skin makes your eyelids flutter, and the tension grows, the throb in your core making your hips shift.
You hold your breath.
He doesn’t move. Just looks at you, silently.
You raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Ogling you.”
Laughter bubbles in your chest. “No wonder the kid is such a menace, with the King of Snark as a role model.”
“I thought I was the Most Observant Man in the Galaxy.” His thumb traces the outline of your bottom lip, curved up in a grin.
“You hold both titles.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
Nodding in mock sympathy, you gesture toward the bottle. “It does. Did you want to relax with a drink?”
“I guess I could find the time in my busy schedule.”
He takes the bottle as you shift around on the bed until you’re sitting back to back, a position you’ve found yourself in a few times now, since that night on Pax when you shared the stars with Din. A deep sense of humility dips low in your stomach every time, knowing he trusts you not to look.
There’s the sound of a gentle splash of liquid and then a pleased hum against your back. “That’s very good.”
You can’t help but preen a bit under the praise. “Thank you. One of the batches I’m most proud of, to be honest. Despite the fact Tanzinthe’s friend almost killed us while making it.”
“The one who forgot to open the pressure valve?”
His hand appears beside you, offering the bottle, but all you can do is blink at it in surprise. You’d mention that only once in his presence, while speaking with Tedha about Tanzinthe. “You remember that?”
“Of course. It was an important event in your life.” He pauses while you take the bottle, turning his hand to run his fingertips along the inside of your wrist in a subtle caress. “Savareen is important to you. I’d like to know more about your life there, if you’re comfortable telling me.”
You swallow back your snort of amusement with a mouthful of brandy. “It wasn’t that interesting. The whole valve incident was probably the most exciting part.”
“Everything about you interests me.” He shifts, pressing tighter to your back. “I love learning how you see the world around you.”
Dank farrik.
The sincerity and affection in his voice is doing all kinds of pleasant things to that throb between your thighs.
You shake your head once, trying to clear the haze that’s already creeping over your thoughts. “You’re gonna give a girl an ego if you keep on like that.”
He moves away and the sudden rush of cool air at your back makes you shiver, long for his warmth again, but he slips behind you again almost immediately, taking the bottle of Savareen and setting it to the side before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into the curve of his body.
You let him mould you how he wants, closing your eyes and sighing in contentment as his hands slip beneath to hem of your shirt, glide over your bare skin, cross your stomach to curl over your ribs.
His lips press to the top of your head, voice dropping to a rasping murmur. “I also love watching you stand up for yourself. Put people who doubt you in their place. You get this… fire, in your eyes.”
His thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts, and you can feel his lips curl into a smile when your back instinctively arches into the touch. “Like a warrior goddess.”
You open your eyes and stare blankly at the opposite wall, heartbeat stuttering with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “‘Warrior goddess?’”
He hums in confirmation. “That’s what I thought, on Bakura.”
“You - what?” Confusion ripples across the surface of the growing haze of arousal.
“When I first saw you.” He slowly drags his hands down the curve of your waist, pulling goosebumps as he goes. “Holding your blaster with confidence. The kind that comes from using it to save your own life countless times.”
Your breath catches, hips rolling with the glide of his hands across your stomach to the tops of your thighs. Need pools hot in your core, pushes your heartbeat faster. It’s hard to focus already, you struggle to concentrate on his voice with your body singing for his touch.
“Speaking with the kid - not to him, with him. Like the person he is. Not a pet, or a creature, as others treat him.” Din presses another gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You were so beautiful, standing there on that mountain. Glowing in the sunlight. Strong and fierce yet kind, gentle. A powerful contradiction.”
He slides his hands down, skimming the inside of your thighs, and your legs fall open with barely a press of his fingertips. “For a moment, I thought you were magical, like a goddess from myth. And I wanted to get on my knees and worship you.”
You bite your lip against a whimper as one of his hands slides over your thigh, grasping the place where the Weequay’s had been.
His voice dips low, reverberating in his chest behind you. “Can I do that now, mesh’la? Get on my knees for you?” He slides his other hand along your inner thigh, cups your cunt through your clothes. “Worship this perfect pussy, make you come in my mouth?”
Crikking hells -
Your thoughts blank, white noise fills your ears.
Pfassk, yes.
The raspy chuckle against your back makes you pause - oh, you’d said that out loud.
Then he’s moving, the bed shifts as he stands. You turn your face away and press your palms to your eyes just in case, a slight tremor running through your hands.
You’re literally shaking with want - your underwear is damp, your thighs squeezing rhythmically, clit throbbing for friction.
Only Din could get you this kriffing worked up.
You hear the click of the lights turning off, and pull your hands away, blinking at the near-pitch black of the room, ears pricking with the soft sounds of his movements. The shuffle of motion is so quiet you can’t discern what he’s doing, beyond the metallic clink of his helmet being set on the table.
Always the silent, stealthy bounty hunter, even safe and sound in the dark of a private hotel room.
Fingers brush your shoulder, a wordless communication, him telling you where he is before his hands guide you to turn, gently pull your legs over the side until your feet touch the floor, glide up your thighs and rest on your hips.
His voice is so soft, floating to you through the dark from just in front of you - he’s kneeling at the side of the bed. “Lay back for me, kar’ta.”
The gentle note of command in his words shoots straight to your core, and you’re suddenly struck with the need to touch him, a wild desperation to feel him swarming through your veins. You reach out, hand finding the cool metal of his breastplate and sliding up to cup his jaw as you lean forward to kiss him.
He indulges you, his lips moving sweetly over yours, until a thrill runs down your spine and you moan into his mouth, tug at the edge of his breastplate in a silent plea for him to pull himself over you, let you feel his weight and warmth and -
A hand presses gently over your collarbone as he pulls back.
Right. Lay down.
You let him push you back until you’re flush with the bed, sinking into the soft blankets. He grasps your hips, shifts them forward a bit, moving your body to where he wants it, then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and underwear and tugs, a pleased sound floating through the dark when you lift to help.
The air of the room swirls over your skin as it’s bared, and a whimper slips from your lips when his hands glide back up your legs, fingers dipping into the curve of your knees before pressing them apart.
Your cunt clenches at the rush of air over heated slick.
Pfassk, you’re so wet already and he’s barely even touched you.
Anticipation flutters your heartbeat, sending arousal racing through your veins. The moment stretches out, expands and contracts to just the feel of his hands cupping your thighs, the throb of your pulse in your ears.
Another rustle of movement and then lips press softly to the inside of your knee.
Your muscles twitch, jump under the skin at the sensation but his grip tightens, holding you firmly in place as he trails barely-there kisses up the inside of your thigh. A pause, you stop breathing, feeling the whisper of his mouth right there, hovering above your aching clit -
Then he’s moving to your other thigh, mirroring the path he just took down, away from where you want him most.
A whimper squeezes from your throat, hips arching, seeking relief for your throbbing pussy, and he rests a hand on your lower stomach, thumb brushing just above your clit and kriff that feels good, the warm weight of his palm seeping into your skin and muscle, amplifying the heat swirling in your core.
Your fingers are fisting in the blankets at your sides, so tight it hurts. You can’t take it, you need him to touch you before you crack. “Din -“
He nips the inside of your thigh as his thumb swipes low, grazing your clit, sending sparks of pleasure webbing across your hips. “Relax, tionas.”
“Can’t.” Your voice is strained, words trembling with want, growing shaky as he kisses a path up your thigh again. “Been wanting you for hours.”
His hum of approval vibrates along the crease of your thigh. “Since I put my hand on you at the cantina.”
You choke back a gasp as he shifts his grip on your thigh to where it was under the table. “Y-yes.”
“I know.” He shifts, kissing the skin in the curve of his thumb on your thigh. “I saw it in your eyes.”
Your pussy throbs, a rush of heat flooding your core at the thought of him being able to see your arousal in your gaze. Pfassk, why was that so hot? The knowledge that he could tell you wanted him with just a look?
His tongue flicks out, trails up your thigh, and you whine as once again he passes over your aching cunt. “I wanted you, too. Couldn’t wait to get you alone so I could bury my tongue in your pussy.”
You can’t handle it anymore, your thoughts so hazy with arousal it’s dizzying, the throb in your core a steady beat that matches your racing heart.
It feels like you’re still drunk, floating, giddy with need, and a shaky laugh bursts from your chest. “Taking your kriffing time now, though.”
His answering huff of laughter is cut short as he slots his open mouth over your entire cunt and thrusts his tongue through your slick folds.
Crikking hells -
Pleasure arches your back off the bed, your head digging into the blankets, clapping your hand over your mouth to muffle your cry, some semblance of logical thought reminding you that the kid was sleeping nearby before it evaporates into the thrum of want.
Your thighs tremble as the hot, wet muscle swipes over your entrance, dips inside, buzzes with his moan when the taste of you floods his tongue.
Yes so good -
He laves a wide stripe up to your clit and licks it into his mouth, lips closing around it to suck -
Oh kriff yes -
His hands press your thighs open as they clench with the rush of pleasure, his tongue lashing over your clit while his lips press and pull -
You’re mumbling into the palm of your hand, senseless sounds that are half pleas for more and half curse words. Heat builds in your core, shudders through your body, rolls your hips to press your cunt tighter to that incredible mouth.
He pushes your thighs wider, spreads you open, effectively pinning your hips down as he picks up the pace, suckling at your clit in exactly the way that will pull an orgasm from you in minutes.
Pfassk -
Pleasure spirals up and out, prickling over your skin, pulling your nipples tight so with each gasping breath they grind against the cloth of your bra, adding tiny sparks to the fire that’s threatening to burst free.
You can feel it, the edge he’s dragging you toward, already so close after hours of wanting him and now right there with the perfect pressure of his lips and tongue.
He’s relentless, unfaltering, and your orgasm looms, bright and fierce, then he sucks hard and his teeth scrap over the hood of your clit and -
You’re falling -
Sobbing into your hand, body trembling with waves of pleasure -
So good so good don’t stop please -
His tongue keeps at your clit while his hands hold your hips tight to the bed until -
A sharp cry shoves from your chest as pleasure instantly shifts to overstimulation, your entire body curling into itself at the change, reeling from the sudden drop.
He immediately pulls away, hands releasing their grip on your thighs. Your body shivers with one last wave then you sink limply into the blankets, hand falling away from your mouth, your harsh gasp of breath and the sharp ache of your lungs the only way you know you had stopped breathing for a moment.
Slowly, your awareness falls back into place, focus drawn to the soothing caress of his hands, sweeping up and down your thighs. You pass a hand over your face, take a deep breath to pull yourself together as best you can with pleasure still fogging your thoughts, and reach for one of his hands.
He twines his fingers through yours, kisses them gently, his lips warm and damp with your pleasure.
That one sensation is enough to send a fresh wave of want to your core, and you tug on his hand, silently asking for him to join you on the bed, your words still tied up in the pleasure haze.
But he resists, lips curving in a smile as he kisses your fingers again. “Oh, I’m not done with you. That first one was just to silence that tongue of yours.”
Crikking hells.
He nuzzles into the crease of your thigh, and your hips twitch as his breath fans out over your sensitive cunt. “I said I wanted to worship this pussy. And I will.”
Your answering whimper cracks with need, shifting to a moan when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your cunt.
Pleasure swirls in your core, rising gently, a sharp contrast to the rapid build of your last orgasm. He lavishes kisses over your slick folds, tongue dipping into your entrance occasionally, flicking over your clit softly.
It’s almost overwhelming, the tender caresses and soft kisses to such a vulnerable part of your body, the care he takes in finding all those places he knows pull your pleasure higher.
His free hand never stills, gliding along any part of you he can reach, curling around your calve and tracing the curve of your hip and slipping under your shirt to cup your breasts.
There’s a throb in the very centre of your being, the need for him so poignant it almost hurts in its intensity.
You get lost in it, thoughts scattering, pleasure rising in gentle swells and focus pulling into one singular point -
Him.
Din.
His name echoes in your ears - you said it out loud, your voice high-pitched, wrecked.
It expands your awareness again and you realize you’re writhing on the bed, blankets twisting beneath you as your hips arch into the wet heat of his tongue, gliding over your cunt.
He moves with you, let’s you chase your pleasure as you want, your free hand tangled in his hair, rocking your pussy along the flat of his tongue over and over, and pfassk it feels so kriffing good -
You can feel it, pleasure beckoning your body toward a second drop, but it’s big, it’s been building for too long and now it’s so high you can’t -
His grip on your hand, squeezing once.
It’s ok. Let go.
He’s got you.
Another roll of your hips and your clit throbs as it grinds against his tongue.
Right there right there yes -
Again -
Oh pfassk -
Again -
White hot heat -
Pleasure breaks, every muscle pulls tight -
You’re flying and falling and twisting into a ball of shivering flesh, curled over into yourself, hand in his hair pushing him against your pulsing cunt and his mouth closes over it, tongue pressed along the length of your folds and it’s incredible, soft wet warmth that engulfs your pussy as your orgasm finally releases you.
Air rushes into your lungs and you fall back onto the bed, gasping desperate mouthfuls, shaky. Lights flash in the corners of your eyes, not really there, results of the ferocity of your orgasm.
Your core pulses with aftershocks and he moans, tongue vibrating against your cunt, sending another shudder through your body at the sharp jab of pleasure-pain.
He pulls away carefully, swallowing thickly, resting his forehead on your lower stomach. “Fuck, you feel so good, coming on my tongue like that.”
You loosen your grip on his curls, comb your fingers through them. Words still struggle to find their way to your mouth, so all you do is hum in agreement, hope he knows what you mean.
His lips press to your skin, start to move down, but you tighten your fingers in his hair again, whining a wordless plea.
You need him.
Need to feel him on you, need to be filled with him.
He exhales sharply, an almost desperate sound, as if he’d heard your thoughts. A shift of movement and he’s climbing onto the bed beside you, finding your lips and capturing them in a deep kiss.
Your tongue floods with the sweet tang of your own pleasure, a moan that could be his or yours reverberating through your body.
Somehow you get your limbs back into working order, hands trembling with exertion as they wrap around his shoulders, haul him on top of you so quickly that he scrambles to bear his weight on his forearms, braced on either side of your head.
You sigh as he settles between your thighs, that desperation clawing in your chest easing with the feel of him pressing you into the mattress, the familiar chill of his breastplate seeping through your shirt.
He pulls back, breath stuttering. “Tell me what you want, mesh’la.”
Your hazy thoughts flicker through words, struggling to say what you’re feeling. “I want - no, don’t want - need, I need you, I need you.”
An instinctual roll of your hips brings your bare cunt against his cloth-covered cock, hard length pressing tight to his flightsuit, and he groans deep, arching into your movement to grind into your wet heat.
His lips are back on yours instantly, pulling a choked moan from your chest as he shifts his weight onto one arm, reaching down between you. There’s a rustle of cloth and then the smooth head of his cock is gliding through your slick, notching into the cup of your entrance, pressing in -
Crikking hells -
Your thighs tremble at the stretch, pfassk it’s always so much -
He sinks deeper, the shove of his cock against your inner walls sending a ripple of pleasure through your body and you cry out -
His mouth smothers the sound, tongue licking between your lips as he bottoms out.
Yes -
So full -
He shifts, pulling back, dragging his cock from the wet clutch of your cunt before thrusting back in with the same achingly slow pace, pressing into every single spot of pleasure along your inner walls and your eyes roll back, your hands grasp his arms tight, already swept up in the wave of growing orgasm.
His movements falter as your cunt flutters around his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good, pussy squeezing so tight -“
You gasp as he thrusts in again, filling you so perfectly, and you want to say it but your thoughts are thick and swollen with pleasure, you can’t -
“Tell me, kar’ta. Tell me how I make you feel, I need to hear it, please.”
His words cut through the haze - yes, you’ll do anything, anything he asks of you.
Lifting a hand from his arm to cup his face, you push the words past your lips. “You make me feel so good, Din, I love how you make me feel, your tongue and your mouth and your hands and your cock -“
Your voice cuts off as he thrusts deep, pushing against some spot inside you that erupts in pleasure so intense it borders on pain and your pussy spasms in response, squeezes your walls tight.
He shudders above you. “Fuck, feel it -“
Another thrust and your back arches with the burst of pleasure-pain. “Oh pfassk - Din -“
“Yes, love, right there, I know -“ his hand pulls yours away from his face, presses it flat to the bed, threads his fingers through yours. “Want to make you feel good, always.”
He starts a pace that blinds you with pleasure, thick of his cock spearing deep over and over, knocking against that spot each time and you bite your lip to hold back the cry that threatens to break free, teeth digging so hard it hurts.
Again and again -
Crikking hells you’re gonna come -
You release your bottom lip with a sob, pleasure burning through your veins and it’s too much and you never want it to end.
Tell him tell him want him to know -
Know what he does to you, what he’s doing to you now.
Your voice shakes with the motion of his thrusts. “It’s so good, Din, so perfect, you make me feel this way, only you -“
“Fuck.”
The word drops in a growl and suddenly he’s moving, leaning back, a hand grabbing your thigh and pushing it up, pressing it to your chest.
He pulls out, almost all the way, until just the head of his cock rests inside your snug entrance.
Then he thrusts back in and you lose yourself.
Bright hot pleasure -
His cock hits that spot straight on, the angle driving him so deep inside you.
He lets go of your hand, covers your mouth with his, muffling the wail that you didn’t realize was squeezing past your throat.
Again his cock drags from your cunt and again he shoves deep -
Over and over and over -
Pleasure explodes and wet heat floods yours core and your blindsided, reeling, crying out against his palm as it rips through your body.
Slick sounds fill your ears and he groans low in his chest. “Yes come for me just like that -“
His hips stutter as your pussy clenches hard, again and again, gripping his cock greedily, sucking him back in so hard the shape of him might be imprinted on your inner walls.
Crikking hells so good -
You can’t breathe, body frozen in pleasure, pulled tight -
Finally there’s the drop -
He growls with each thrust again and again and then he’s groaning long and low, cock throbbing in release, movements faltering as your fluttering walls milk his pleasure.
A pause, stillness, only sound is the mingling of your panting breaths.
Then he gently eases your thigh back down, and his lips find yours in the dark.
A sweet kiss, soft. Such a contrast to the passion of just a moment ago.
You love everything about it.
He sighs into your mouth, pressing a final kiss to it before pulling back. “Are you alright?”
You realize you’re shaking, tremors wracking your body, teeth chattering with the force of them. But there’s no pain, only the thrum of spent pleasure. “Yeah. That was just… a lot. Good, but a lot.”
Your core pulses with an aftershock and his huff of laughter shifts into a grunt. He carefully pulls his cock from your cunt, chasing your mewl of disappointment with a kiss. “Agreed.”
Exhaustion is starting to creep into your muscles, overworked with pleasure. The softness of the bed beneath your body tempts you with sleep, and Din obviously feels the call, too, hauling himself up and padding over to the refresher.
It’s a quick clean up with the warm washcloth he brings to you, then you’re pulling your shirt off and tossing it on the floor before settling back onto the bed, listening to him removing his armour and set it on the bedside table.
A thought flickers across your still-hazy thoughts. You didn’t think he would take his armour off here - sure, he removes it on the Razor Crest but that’s his home, where he feels safe. He’s never taken it off anywhere else.
Your focus shifts, all rumination on his habits disappearing as he slides under the blankets next to you. He’s still wearing his underlayer, but that’s more than enough to satisfy your need to feel close to him right now.
He wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you back against his chest. You wriggle backward to press yourself deeper into his embrace, breathing deep as his warmth swarms over your skin, tucking you into the safe cocoon that is his arms.
He presses a line of kisses along your shoulder, into the curve of your neck, behind your ear, his hand wandering down your waist to rest on your thigh.
Over the exact place where the Weequay’s had been.
A curl of anxiety turns your stomach.
All the talk of him making you feel good, his strong reaction when you said only he could make you feel like that…
Like he was trying to prove that you wanted him.
Kriff. The Weequay.
Of course Din wouldn’t want you to go around letting strangers touch you so intimately. He’d probably been upset with you - stupid girl, why did you -
Stop.
You shove the thought away before it starts to spiral out of control.
Talk to him.
Gently, you lay your hand over his on your thigh, forcing the words out. “Were you… did I upset you, letting him touch me?”
A pause, he stills behind you.
Pfassk, that’s great, so you did upset him -
“I was angry that he spoke to you that way.” His voice is steady, weighing his words as if talking through complex emotions. “And proud of how clever you were. But no, I wasn’t upset.”
Ok he wasn’t upset but he was angry.
Anger that could have come from -
You chew your bottom lip, but push yourself to give voice to that worrisome thought scratching at the back of your mind. “Are you sure you weren’t… I don’t know, jealous or something?”
Another pause, a longer moment of silence. Anxiety bubbles up again and you swallow it back down.
He’s not mad at you for asking. He’s just figuring out how to answer.
Finally, he shifts, tugging at your thigh to guide you onto your back, one arm curling under your head and the other around your waist. His lips find yours, pressing a firm but tender kiss full of so much emotion that it pulls a whimper from your throat.
His words fall softly against your skin. “I didn’t like seeing his hand on you, but only because I hate the thought of anyone touching you if you don’t want them to. You’ve been forced to bear that too often in your life.”
The hand on your waist slips around to your back, calloused fingertips tracing the scars cross-crossing your skin.
Emotion swells in your chest, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You cup his face in your hands, try to silently convey everything you can’t say.
He rests his forehead against yours. “I’m not jealous because jealousy implies ownership. And I don’t own you. No one does, and no one ever will.”
Tears threaten to spill and you blink them back, swallow hard against the lump in your throat to force the words that lift straight from your soul. “You may not own me, Din, but I’m yours.”
A soft exhale of breath, a barely-there brush of lips. “As I am yours, tionas.”
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Warnings, etc.: Grogu being adorable, domestic moments, introspection, a hint of smuttiness, silly silly banter, Greef gets annoyed, Cara gets sassy, probably too much description of tree-dwelling creatures habits but I did a ridiculous amount of research for it so you all have to suffer, a little twist of anxiety at the end I’m sorry
Notes: Look! A wild plot appears!
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
It’s a funny sort of feeling, buzzing low behind your ribcage, an excitement mixed with anticipation that threatens to bubble up and out in a burst of laughter. You haven’t felt it in a long time, but you remember what it is - it’s the same sensation you felt each time you hopped off a transport and took the first step onto the soil of a new planet.
That feeling of shaking off an identity and becoming someone new.
The only difference is this time, that almost-laughter isn’t layered with anxiety, trepidation. Fear of being recognized as who you once were, ripped out of the life you chose and forced back into the one you were born into with no one to fight for you if you found yourself helpless.
Because this time, you have someone who would care.
This time, you have someone who would fight.
As I am yours, tionas.
You smile as the words float across your thoughts, directing it at the kid so the people around you don’t think you’re grinning to yourself like a madwoman. The Nevarro market is busy at this time of morning, people rushing off to work or running errands before tackling the other tasks of the day.
The little guy quirks his ears at you, obviously curious as to why you’re in such a great mood.
Flashes of memory, moments from the night before - hot, slick glide of a tongue, grip of a hand pinning your thigh in place as his cock pressed so deep -
Yeah, not going to explain this one to the kid any time soon.
You throw him a wink then turn your attention to the line of food vendors. “What do you want for breakfast, kiddo? Something quick, we’ve still got to stock up on some rations and then meet your dad at Greef’s so we can be ready to go when that contact of his checks in.”
The kid coos happily, big eyes turning to the selection of vendors.
Your nose twitches at the scent of roasted meat, and your gaze follows it instinctively, squinting at the last stall. “I think they’ve even got some poor creatures for you to munch on, my adorable little Sarlaac pit. Come on.”
“Can he actually understand you?”
The voice coming from your left sets your heartbeat racing, your hand automatically pushing the kid’s pod behind you until your thoughts catch up - Cara Dune.
That warm, dark gaze meets yours with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I figured you saw me coming.”
At one point in your life you would have been embarrassed, maybe even angry, at being caught off guard. But her guilt is so genuine, not a trace of accusation or judgement on her face.
So you return her smile, waving a hand in dismissal. “No apology necessary. I’m the one walking around with my head in the clouds today.”
“Well, you did sling back quite a bit of that brandy last night.” Cara’s smile turns crooked, teasing.
“Surprisingly, I’m unaffected.” You nudge the kid’s pod closer to her as he babbles in greeting, lifting a tiny clawed hand that she squeezes lightly. “Must have been sleeping in a real bed, for once.”
“There’s no bed on the Razor Crest?”
“Well, there’s a bunk, but it’s not big enough for the two of us.”
Her gaze sharpens, gleams with delight. “So it’s like that, huh?”
Nervousness twists your stomach, seeing that look in her eyes. “Like what?”
“Like you’re ‘sharing a bed every night’ kinda what.” She teases, her smile reassuring, making sure you know it’s all in good fun. “I knew you and Mando had something going on, that’s obvious to anyone who’s in the same room as the two of you for more than five minutes, what with all the pining glances and sexual tension so thick I could cut it with a knife.”
You almost choke on the sudden rush of embarrassment. “We - kriff, we don’t, do we -“
“Oh come on, you guys are like a couple of hormone-riddled teenagers. You think you’re being sneaky with the under the table touching?”
“Crikking hells.” You run a hand over your face, sighing.
“Easy, I’m just teasing you.” She laughs, reaching out the grasp your arm consolingly, her voice warming with sincerity. “Honestly, I’m happy that Mando found you. He’s a good man who’s been through more than most people. He deserves someone who cares about him like you do. And you deserve him, too.”
Your embarrassment fades with her words, a sort of profound feeling replacement it. For one of Din’s closest friends to say that… “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
The kid babbles, standing up in his pod, hands outstretched toward the meat stall and you grab him before he loses his balance and tips over the side. “Ok, ok, calm down, we’ll get you food.”
Cara chuckles, sliding into step beside you as you make your way toward the stall. “So, can he actually understand you? I’ve always thought he knows more than he lets on.”
“Oh, I’m positive he does. I mean, he’s still a child so he doesn’t grasp everything.” You shuffle the kid in your arms as you approach the stall so he can get a look at the display. “But he’s smart. Too smart, sometimes - hard to get things past him.”
The kid reaches for a slab of meat on a stick that’s almost twice his size and you pull him back, directing his gaze to the row of much more reasonably-sized kebabs. “How about something that’s less likely to upset your stomach later? We’re flying out today.”
He grumbles in discontent, but points to the largest kebab. You smile and nod at the vendor, who moves to wrap it up. “A compromise we can both live with.”
*****
The kebab is long gone by the time you get to Greef’s, even though it takes less than half an hour to find the supplies you need and get to the magistrate’s office. Cara keeps you company, asking about what you and Din had been up to since the last time you were on Nevarro - never prying for details, seemingly satisfied with whatever you choose to tell her.
That feeling of something new grows stronger.
Your steps are light as you walk into the front door of Greef’s office.
Maybe something new includes close friends, as well as your aliit.
The reception area is empty as you enter, but a familiar flash of silver coming through the door to Greef’s office sets your heartbeat fluttering.
Din stops, helmet tilting toward Cara in greeting before the black visor turns to you. There’s a strange little pause then he speaks, voice carrying a hint of strain through the modulator.
“Tionas. I need to speak with you.”
Concern tightens your shoulders. What happened? Is it something Greef’s contact said?
Cara curls her fingers around the edge of the kid’s pod, tugging it behind her as she starts toward Greef’s office. “We’ll be in here when you’re done.”
Din moves to a door on the opposite side of the room, stride eating up the distance and you hurry to join him.
Panic starts to swirl hot in your stomach, your gaze fixed unseeing on his back. “What’s wrong?”
He turns around, reaches over your shoulder and keys the door shut. “Nothing.”
You blink, panic shifting to bewilderment. “Then why - wait, are we in a ‘fresher?”
“Yes.”
The light flicks off and you blink again, this time into utter darkness. “Din, what is going on? Did Greef’s contact check in? Why are we -“
Your words are cut off by the press of soft lips to yours, a gloved hand slipping around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his hum of approval mingling with the whimper that slips past your throat.
The taste and feel and scent of Din overwhelm your senses and you grasp the edge of his breastplate, pulling him impossibly closer. He obeys your silent plea, one step bringing his body flush with yours, another pressing you back against the ‘fresher door, then a shift and -
Oh kriff -
You break the kiss with a gasp, breath stuttering as his thigh slips between yours and the steel of his armour presses to your core, cold seeping through your leggings and underwear.
He takes advantage of the break, lips trailing along your jaw, dipping into the curve of your neck, his hand guiding your head back even more to bare your skin to his mouth.
A spark of arousal shoots through your body as his teeth graze your pulse, the urge to roll your hips, grind your cunt against the hard thigh between your legs almost impossible to ignore. It would be so easy, just a nudge and your clit would find that pressure it’s beginning to ache for -
Pfassk, remember where you are.
His tongue flicks out to trace the line of your collarbone and you have to bite your lip to stop the moan that threatens to burst free, trying to pull your already-hazy thoughts together. “Din. Why are -“
He shifts his thigh, pressing it tighter against your core, and this time you can’t hold back the moan, bouncing off the walls of the small room, drawn out as his fingertips dig into the curve of your waist in response.
You’re burning up, his breath warm on tender skin, heat of arousal spiralling out from between your thighs and your hips rock with need and yes there -
The movement grinds your clit over his thigh plate, the seam of your underwear catching it just right and you do it again, body seeking -
“Mando?”
Greef’s voice floats through the closed door.
Dank farrik.
Din nips at your jaw, tip of his tongue laving over the spot immediately, sending shivers over your skin.
Footsteps, coming closer.
You thread your fingers into his hair, pulling gently. “Din, wait -“
His lips brush over your ear, voice rasping down your spine. “The door is locked.”
“That’s great, but he can still figure out we’re in here.” You keep your voice low, barely a whisper, ears pricked as the footsteps pass by the door.
“Mando? Where did you go?” Greef’s voice drifts away as he continues on, sound of his footsteps leading out of the reception area.
Din pulls your lips back to his, tongue a slick caress against your own that has your hips rolling again, your mewl swallowed up by the heat of his mouth. “Problem solved.”
Your head falls back against the door, panting breath filling the room. “Until he sends a search party out.”
“Then we still have a few more minutes.” The smile in his voice says he picked up on the wavering concern in yours.
Something about his insistent desire for you is thrilling, exhilarating, making laughter bubble up in your chest, shaky with need. “If we keep this up, I’ll leave this refresher looking like we did exactly what we’re doing in here right now. You at least have the helmet.”
His groan buzzes against your lips, hand on the back of your neck moving to grab your hip, pull you tighter to his thigh. “Is that supposed to deter me?”
“Crikking hells.” Your cunt clenches at his words, the pressure of his thigh against your clit, arousal rocketing up so fast you’re dizzy with it. “Cara is definitely going to say something about this.”
He sucks a kiss into the underside of your jaw. “Then I’ll tell her it’s your fault. So beautiful I couldn’t help myself.”
Pfassk. This man is almost too much.
Never enough.
You tilt your lips to find his, scraping his scalp with your fingernails as you kiss him deep, share your giddy laughter with him. “Did you steal that line from those HoloNet dramas you love?”
A pause, the sound of his thoughts turning almost audible. “Maybe. Would that make you the tempting seductress who turns my life upside down?”
Your gasp of surprise is muffled by another press of his lips. There’s no way he happened to guess a common plot point in those stories. “You just gave me so much ammunition for future banter, I hope you know that.”
A familiar soft coo drifts through the door, then Cara’s voice, muffled but obviously trying to convince the kid to go back into Greef’s office, fading as they leave the reception area again.
Arousal fades, awareness of the press of time and nearness of others dulling its edges.
Din sighs, and you comb your fingers through his hair soothingly, letting your own disappointment filter into your voice. “It seems the search party is out.”
“It seems so.” He kisses you a final time before pulling away, a soft shuffle of movement telling you he’s slipping the helmet back into place.
A quick once-over to pull your clothes back into place, then you’re following him out of the refresher and into the magistrate’s office.
Cara is holding the kid, chatting with Greef as you enter. Her dark gaze flickers over you, almost immediately glinting with amusement.
She clicks her tongue. “Hormone-riddled teenagers.”
You clear your throat, pretending not to hear her as the kid reaches for Din, babbling excitedly.
Greef glances up from his desk, brows drawn in the hint of a scowl. “Where did you two disappear to for so long? I received a transmission from my contact, I’ll pull it up on the holo.”
He keys the command into the holo console and an image pops up - a star system, cluster of planets around a single sun.
The coordinates flash in the corner of the display, and recognition skips your heartbeat. “The Pax system?”
Greef rests his hands on his hips. “My contact said they would send me the coordinates of the planet they had confirmed Mandalorian sightings on. I suppose a backwater system is the best place if you’re in hiding.”
Din takes a step toward the holo, black visor intent on the image. “An uninhabited planet on a backwater system is even better.”
Your gaze finds the dwarf planet you’d stayed on so long ago. “No, you don’t think… that’s almost too much of a coincidence.”
Cara looks between the two of you. “What’s special about this planet?”
Din shifts the kid into the crook of his arm. “We stayed there some time ago. Temperate climate, forests and canyons that would make excellent cover.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Sounds ideal for laying low.”
You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure, but it’s still an entire planet to search. Where do we start?”
The helmet turns to look at you, flashing in the light of the holo display. “Maybe your friends can help.”
“My friends - the tree-dwellers?” You raise an eyebrow. “They’re just animals. I don’t think I can walk up to them and ask if they’ve seen any excessively armoured two-legged creatures around lately.”
His huff of laughter filters through the modulator, drawing looks of surprise from Cara and Greef.
It takes you a moment to realize they’ve probably never heard him laugh before.
Warmth blooms in your chest.
One of the many marks you’ve made on each other.
Din reaches into one of the pouches on his belt and pulls out the durasteel splinter. “This might help.”
You hold out your hand as he drops it into your palm, some thought flickering at the edge of your mind. It sputters out, and you frown, reaching for it again, pulling the idea into the forefront, something is there, something about the durasteel splinter…
Your own voice startles you - so lost in thought you didn’t realize you’d started speaking. “Tree-dwellers like them typically have a home area they don’t like to stray far from. The more solitary breeds tend to have a wider range, but these guys live in packs. I’d say they have a den somewhere, probably a permanent one, and they wouldn’t go far from it, maybe less than ten kilometres. So that means the one I pulled this splinter from picked it up somewhere within a ten kilometre radius from where we were.”
Looking at the holo, you reach over and key in the command to enlarge the dwarf planet, gaze pinpointing the forest where you had stayed, darting over the surrounding area, catching on the canyon you’d come across during your brief solo exploration.
You point to the jagged image of the canyon. “There, only a few kilometres from where we were. It’s fairly deep, with trees and rock outcroppings covering the canyon floor. Hard to infiltrate on foot and good cover from an aerial view.”
Greef claps his hands once, pulling you out of your musings. “Seems like as good a place as any to start.”
You glance at Din, suddenly aware of the weight of his gaze. The helmet is tilted slightly, shoulders relaxed, weight shifted to one foot as he takes you in.
There’s something confident, proud, about his stance that pulls your chest tight.
Cara rests a hand on your shoulder, smiling. “I’ll help you load up those supplies before you hit the black.”
You return her smile, looking back to the holo one last time.
That little planet - where you had sat with Din under the stars and shared your childhood dreams of freedom.
Where he had told you his name, removed his armour in front of you for the first time.
Where you had pulled away the last barrier of your own clothing and he had touched your naked back with more tenderness than anyone else ever had.
It had been a beginning of sorts. A step toward where you are now, that ever-present buzz of anxiety quieted, dulled by the gentle pulse of acknowledged love.
Now, you were returning there, following the trail of someone who might belong to Din’s tribe. His people.
Something cold hardens in the pit of your stomach.
A jumble of emotions, twisting and turning and -
Realization rushes through your body, prickles over your skin.
This is what you’d felt, back on the Razor Crest. When Din had first told you that Greef had news of the whereabouts of some Mandalorians.
All those emotions you had tried to decipher, failed, put aside to pick through later.
A night of drink and laughter and intimacy had pushed them to the back of your mind, but now, looking at the holo of that dwarf planet, you feel them.
Apprehension.
Dread.
Fear.
His people.
Not like you.
You’re not Mandalorian. And you’re not a child, like the kid, accepted by a people who place high priority on children and foundlings.
Sure, Din says you’re part of his clan.
But what happens when he’s reunited with the people who saved his life, raised him as one of their own, instilled in him a deep-seated loyalty to their kind?
Warnings, etc.: drinking games, excessive alcohol consumption, like too much, I need to make this clear I am in no way endorsing drinking this much or encouraging others to drink this much PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT, degrading language toward women, reader acts under false pretences with no regret, some introspection, a lil tease of smut at the end
Notes: Okay listen. Does this chapter advance the plot? No. Does it enhance our understanding of the characters and further develop relationships? Not really. And it almost got cut for those reasons, but then I’d have to significantly change parts of the next chapter and I like it too much as it is. Also let’s just have fun for once, bbys have been through enough. Also also this was going to be a beefier chapter but I revised how I’ve split the next few up so sorry again for the kinda low word count.
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
The cantina is the same one you and Cara had sat in the last time you were on Nevarro, where you had tried to navigate your growing feelings for Din and your place in his life. Where you had struggled with trusting yourself not to run away from him, not to hurt him in the end.
Where, for the first time, you had acknowledged that you felt drawn to him for comfort and support when your thoughts were too loud.
It had taken time, and a few steps backward, but now you’re sitting here, Din next to you, the low buzz of your anxious thoughts hovering in the back of your mind, there but unconcerning.
Because you know you don’t have to shove them down deep, where they’ll grow into something you can’t control, something terrible and twisted that will turn all that’s bright into dark, seed fear and panic until you run from it, from everything.
The cantina is much busier tonight, nearly every seat taken, and the drone of conversation fluctuates with the raucous laughter of a large group taking up a few tables on the other side of the bar. But despite the mild chaos there’s a still and steady feeling of something like belonging, sitting here, your aliit and what you think might be friends around you, sharing funny stories and good drink. It’s a comfort you’ve never felt before.
Never allowed yourself to feel.
You take a sip from your glass of revnog while Karga - Greef, he had insisted - expounds on some recent event that involved people both Cara and Din know, with Cara jumping in on occasion to provide a sarcastic comment or detail the magistrate missed. Even though you’re not familiar with the story’s subjects, both Greef and Cara speak to you, not just Din, making sure you’re kept in the conversation.
Still, you can’t stop your focus from wandering just a bit, your own experience being employed in similar settings guiding your idle observation of the bartender at work.
The human woman is obviously experienced, her movements confident and efficient, hands carrying out two separate tasks while her gaze is constantly moving. She’s carefully assessing the other patrons with the practice of one who has served alcoholic beverages to people long enough to know trouble sparks before it flames, and if you catch it soon enough you can prevent an all-out blaze.
Memories of working at The Windflower flit across your thoughts - Tedha had always been the one to spot a fight brewing, able to step in and diffuse it with a charming smile and a witty one-liner that would instantly shift the conversation.
You were less effective, your defensive reflexes a little more temperamental, which occasionally landed you in the middle of a brawl. That’s why you stuck to the production side of things, tucked away in the distillery where you could focus on your work instead of obnoxious, drunk scugholes.
The bartender sets two cocktails in front of the Rodian who had ordered them and spins gracefully, reaching to the top shelf of the back bar and shifting aside a couple bottles to pull out the one she’s looking for. Something behind one of the bottles catches your gaze - a clear glass bottle, white label with gold writing.
Your stomach dips in excitement and words blurt out before you can think about it. “Is that Windflower Savareen?”
The bartender somehow hears your question above the noise of the crowd, immediately zeroing in on you with a warm smile and a nod.
Throwing an apologetic smile at Cara and Greef to excuse yourself from the conversation, you slip out of your chair to head to the bar as the woman pulls the bottle down from the shelf.
A thrill of familiarity runs down your spine at the feel of the bottle in your hand, the way the gold-red liquid glows in the dim light of the cantina. The pristine white label and gold font spelling out The Windflower’s name, date of the batch’s production, the name of the distiller.
Your fingertip traces the letters carefully.
Sozi Varu.
A laugh slips from your chest.
What are the kriffing odds?
Oh -
Your thumb snags on the little wax seal beside the name. Gold, like the font, embossed with a trio of tiny berries.
You’d applied that seal yourself, to each bottle from this batch.
You know you’re grinning at the bottle of brandy like an idiot, but the bartender seems to be taking it all in stride. Probably seen much stranger.
She pulls a clean glass from under the bar. “I bought it a while ago, but I think it’s a bit too classy for the regulars here. Did you want a sample?”
“No, that’s ok, I’ll take -“
A deep, rough voice cuts through the chatter. “Better pick something else, sweetheart.”
Your gaze flies to the loud group on the other side of the bar, a mix of different species. A quick glance and you can tell each one is armed, blasters and other assorted weapons glinting in the low light of the cantina.
They’ve gone quiet, watching you, an air of tension hovering over their tables. There’s a narrow look in their eyes that sets your instincts on edge.
These are not good people.
Then one of them - a Weequay, sitting in the chair nearest you - leans back with an arrogant assurance in his deep-set black eyes, condescension twisting his mouth. “Hard drink like that is too strong for pretty things like you.”
The rest of the table bursts out laughing, as if he just said the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
Well.
They just went from vaguely threatening to extremely annoying.
You glance at the bartender, who’s watching the exchange carefully. She looks at you for a moment, a penetrating gaze that you feel go straight to your bones, then quirks an eyebrow in question, the hint of a smile curling up the corner of her mouth.
Yeah, ok. Let’s have some fun.
Biting your lip to stop your own answering smile, you shift, cocking out a hip and lifting up the bottle by the neck, letting it waver awkwardly in your grip. “Oh, is this strong liquor? I just think the label is really pretty, I thought I would try some.”
The Weequay snorts an ugly laugh, echoed by his friends. “Tell you what, if you can manage to drink a glass, I’ll buy it for you.”
This time you let your grin spread, light up your expression with delight, push a sickly simpering tone into your voice. “Would you? That’s so sweet of you.”
“Well, slow down, you’ve got to finish the glass before I buy it, that’s the deal.” He stands leisurely, chuckling lowly as his friends slap him on the back and jokingly wish him luck.
The bartender sets out two shot glasses when he takes a seat next to you, black eyes flicking down your frame and up again. “You sure about this? Maybe you should get your friends to cheer you on. Or are you here alone?”
You suppress the shiver that breaks out over your skin at the way his voice drops, disgustingly cloying.
Well, that confirms he didn’t see who you’re with. Not that a moron like him would realize it’s probably not wise to challenge someone in the company of a Mandalorian.
A subtle glance out of the corner of your eye tells you that same Mandalorian is watching you now, helmet tilted in amusement. A gloved hand rests on Cara’s forearm, as if he stopped her from standing up and something blooms warm behind your ribs - she’d probably started to get up to come to your defence.
Greef and the kid are watching you, too, almost identical expressions on their faces, curiosity and interest pushing them to lean forward just a bit. The rest of the patrons are also turning their attention to your exchange with the Weequay, the buzz of conversation dimming.
Good. An audience will make this even more entertaining.
Sliding onto the stool beside him, you focus your attention on the task at hand, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Well, I’m not alone anymore, am I?”
“That’s right, sweetheart.” The ridges on his jaw shift with his crooked grin as he reaches for the bottle and uncaps it. “Now, don’t be upset that you can’t keep up, it’s completely natural. Pretty girls like you are good at other things, aren’t you?”
Disgust turns your stomach as he winks heavily, and you look away before it shows on your face, watching him fill both glasses. “I’ll do my best. Thank you for being here for me.”
“I’m not here for you, girl.” He laughs loudly, picking up his glass and draining it in one gulp. “Easiest free drink I’ve ever won.”
His friends burst out laughing, the sound grating in your ears, and he waves the empty glass toward them in triumph.
Dank farrik, he’s not making this easy.
You force a giggle, bringing your glass to your nose and taking an exaggerated sniff. The familiar scent fills your lungs pleasantly, layers of fruity sweetness that make your mouth water, and you pull back as if disgusted. “Oooh, that is strong, isn’t it?”
“You can still back out.” The grin on his face grows.
“No, let’s keep going, I’m having so much fun.” Smiling playfully, you reach out to run a finger down the neck of the bottle, biting back a snicker when his black gaze tracks the movement. “But how about we make it more interesting?”
He leans toward you, placing a hand on your thigh, and it takes all your focus not to flinch. “What do you have in mind, pretty girl?”
Kriff. Your hand is literally tingling with the urge to punch that stupid grin off his face.
You tap the bottle once with your fingertip. “What if we play for the whole bottle? Whoever stops drinking first buys it for the other.”
His teeth flash as he laughs. “I’d be an idiot not to take that offer.”
Lifting the glass to your lips, you shift your features into a grimace and swallow the brandy down, internally revelling in the way it settles your stomach, heavy and warm. For added effect, you swoon a bit as you set the glass on the bar.
“I did warn you, sweetheart.” He chuckles, patting your thigh.
You lean toward him, blinking rapidly as if dizzy, noting the current haziness in his gaze as a benchmark. “You were right. Maybe I should have taken your advice, I’m not used to strong alcohol.”
“Ready to quit?”
Sitting up straight as if suddenly inspired, you smile. “No, I want to keep playing. Pour me another, please, you can do it so much better than I can.”
He preens as he refills the glasses, shoulders back and chest puffed out.
It takes every effort not to roll your eyes.
You both sling back your second glass and his friends burst out into shouts of encouragement and laughter, some even pounding the table, ignoring the warning glare of the bartender.
He fills the glasses again, seeming not to notice how his hand shakes just a bit as he pours. “How’s that? Don’t push yourself too hard, I like my women conscious. For the most part.”
His friends laugh loudly at that, and he raises his glass in a toast to them, drawing even more laughter.
Your hand grasps his on your thigh, squeezing so tight he flinches before he can catch himself. Good. “I think I’m ok, let’s keep going.”
He swings the toast toward you, winking as he drinks, and you drain your glass to avoid laughing in his face.
The brandy is filling your system, swirling through your bloodstream, but you breathe deep, fix your gaze on the Weequay, waiting.
There - his features are relaxing, smirk smoothing into a lazy smile, eyelids drooping.
Another round, and a few more minutes, maybe.
This time, he spills a little as he pours, though he’s too busy looking at you to notice. “I like a girl with determination. Think it’s cute.“
“Aw, you’re a flatterer.” The simpering sweetness in your voice almost catches in your throat, and you drink quickly to swallow it down.
His hand starts to slip up your thigh and you press it down, stopping him from going any further.
He frowns, eyes narrowing as he drinks. “And you’re being coy. Don’t like girls who are coy.”
You push your bottom lip in a pout. “Can’t we finish the game before we move on to… something else?”
His grin returns instantly, the haziness pulling his expression into something almost dopey, and reaches for the bottle. “Right, the game.”
That same haze is slipping over your own thoughts, and you take a deep breath again, focus on the feeling of your lungs filling and emptying. Once more, breathe in, breathe out.
Just need to stay alert for a few -
The bottle rocks wildly as he misses, fingers grasping clumsily and almost knocking it over. He grunts in frustration, frowning at the bottle in deep concentration, his hand faltering as he tries to grab it again.
There.
You lean in, ducking into his line of sight to catch his attention. Those black eyes are clouded, can barely even fix on you. “Starting to feel it, huh?”
“What?” He shakes his head slowly, gaze unfocusing.
Pulling the bottle closer, you tap a fingertip to the wax seal, abandoning the playful and flirty persona. “This particular batch was distilled with namana berries. Not a lot, just enough to give a hint of the Namana Effect.”
You refill the glasses, push his toward him. “Not as much as namana liquor, obviously, but it can sneak up on you, overwhelm your neurotransmitters. Especially with the amount of alcohol I’m guessing you already have in your system.”
Sitting back, you pick up your own glass, contemplating him. “I’d say you’re going to pass out any second now.”
He blinks, eyelids slow and heavy, scowl creasing his face, hand leaving your thigh to join his other as he uses both to hold the glass to his lips. Clumsily, he gulps down the brandy, almost dropping the glass as he sets it on the bar top. “Shows what you know, girl.”
You take a sip from your glass, savouring the taste, watching him closely.
The haze in his eyes grows, intensifies, and -
His eyelids close -
He slides off the stool, hitting the floor with a thunk.
His friends leap to their feet, knocking over chairs and crying out in surprise and anger. One of them takes a step toward you, hand on their blaster, and the bartender gives a warning shout, wordless but full of unarguable authority.
They pull back, grumbling, throwing hesitant looks at the bartender.
Calmly, you drink your glass, set it on the bar and stand up, glancing at the unconscious Weequay at your feet. “Should probably get him to a medic. Oh -“ you grab the now half-empty bottle of Savareen, tilting it toward them - “Make sure one of you pays for this before you go. I won it, fair and square.”
Not bothering to wait for a response, you walk back to your table as the other patrons erupt in applause and laughter. One of the man’s friends hustles to the bar and pays up while the others lift him off the floor, shuffling his unconscious form out the door.
Grinning, you set the bottle down in the middle of the table. “Care to share in the spoils of war?”
Greef laughs, a deep belly rumble. “That was very impressive. Where did you learn to drink like that?”
“Oh, here and there.” You shrug one shoulder, sliding into you chair next to Din.
His hand immediately grabs your thigh, fingers digging into the same place where the Weequay’s hand had been. Like he’s trying to erase any imprint, any sensation left behind.
A quick glance shows his shoulders are relaxed, not tensed in anger, the black visor turned toward you just enough that he’s probably looking at you out of the corner of his eye.
The helmet tilts ever-so-slightly, his unseen gaze dragging over you, a different sort of tension creeping through his frame. The kind that tugs at you, makes you crave more than the heat of his palm through his glove and your leggings.
Arousal curls hot in your core.
Ok, you’re very in to territorial Din.
Cara raises her glass in a toast to you, pulling your focus. “You’ve got more patience than I have. I would have decked him the moment he called me ‘sweetheart.’”
You sigh dramatically. “Trust me, there were a few moments when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it through. But the suffering was worth it, in the end.”
Greef and Cara’s laughter inspire a chuckle of your own, the swirl of alcohol and namana in your bloodstream amplifying the giddiness bubbling in your chest. It feels good.
You feel good.
Din’s hand on your thigh relaxes, thumb stroking circles that send a shiver up your spine, stoke the heat of want that shifts your hips closer to him.
And as much as you’re enjoying yourself right now, you can tell by the way those gloved fingers dip down to caress your sensitive inner thigh that you’re going to enjoy yourself even more later.
*****
Warnings, etc.: SMUHHTT like you knew this was happening based on the last chapter, there’s a pattern at this point in the series, let’s see we’ve got some classic p in the v action, oral sex (m!receiving;), I didn’t mean to make a smiley face there but it works so it’s staying, wall sex because these two are so horny for each other they can’t even make it to the bed at first, roughish sex, lil bit of squirting, okay other stuff like fluff so mushy it’s indistinguishable, disgusting amounts of banter, creative use of Mando’a but shhh just let it happen
Notes: I know I’m a week late on this update. AGAIN. I KNOW. But if we all close our eyes and cross our fingers and toes and just believe then we can pretend this chapter is on time, just like we can pretend Season 3 is full of beautifully poignant moments between Din and Grogu and lots of natural character development and logical plot points that progress our understanding of the SW universe as a whole.
Okay last thing if anyone likes to listen to music while reading, this song inspired this particular chapter and much of this series overall:
Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.
Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.
There’s something else there, now. Something between the two of you - intangible, invisible, but there. Like the pull that had drawn you to him in the first place, brought you back together each time you had parted, but more.
No longer a simple tie but a knot formed by a constant, inaudible refrain, a rhythm felt in the beating of your heart, mirroring the pace of those words spoken in the cockpit.
I love you, Din Djarin.
I love you, tionas.
It tightens as you make your way through the hold, tugging you back to him every time you step too far away. His fingers seem to follow it, gliding around your waist, cupping your cheek to pull your lips to his.
A trail of armour marks your path, helmet the first to go as soon as the dark of the hold enveloped the two of you. His warmth is revealed to your touch bit by bit, flightsuit peeling away until only his thin underlayer covers the flexing muscle under your palms.
You lose track of where you are in the ship, the night cycle erasing your sight and the way his lips trail down your throat emptying your thoughts until all that’s left is an ache so deep you can feel it everywhere, the urge to twist yourself up tight into him until you can’t tell where you end and he begins because there is no longer an end and a beginning, only this connection that binds you together.
A heartbeat - yours or his or both - skips a steadily growing rhythm, catching with anticipation.
His hands skirt over your hips, pull them to his own - the motion is a little sharper, a little harder than the rest, knocking your balance off just enough that you stumble. He catches you easily, reversing momentum to push you back against the wall.
Anticipation shifts into arousal, want.
Need.
He’s so close - not enough - pressed against you, his heat a sharp contrast to the cold of the durasteel at your back. A shiver runs through your entire body and he hums low in his throat, slips a hand under the hem of your nightshirt to slide up your back and rest between your shoulderblades, warmth a cushion against the chill.
Another tremor follows in the wake of his hand. Even though he’s touched your back like this countless times now, it still makes your head light, your lungs gasp for breath.
You thread your fingers through his hair and pull, silently asking, pleading, demanding.
He kisses you deep, pulls a whimper from your chest that he echoes with a groan.
More need more -
Teeth scrape over the hinge of your jaw and fingers dig into your thigh, haul it up to curl around his waist and your hips roll instinctively, searching for -
Crikking hells yes -
The hard length of his cloth-covered cock grinds over your cunt, pressing your damp underwear against your clit and sparks of pleasure rapid fire through your veins.
Not enough -
Your hands grab at his shoulders, haul him impossibly tighter against you as his tongue flicks along your pulse, hot and wet over where a whimper buzzes low, reverberating with his answering groan.
Something cracks and swells deep in your gut and a flood of need rushes through your core, shoves desperate words past your lips. “Need you inside me.”
His groan vibrates through your own chest. “Want to feel you, kar’ta, but I should get you ready -“
He chokes off as your hand slips into his underlayer, curls around his cock and squeezes.
For a brief moment your intent wavers, distracted - pfassk, he feels so good against your palm, hard length pulsing, velvet skin burning with arousal. A warm droplet slides over your knuckles and your tastebuds tingle with the memory of how it feels on your tongue, the sharp bite of his pleasure.
A wave of fresh slick dampens your underwear, so much that you can feel it on your hand through his underlayer and your focus resharpens, the need to feel him blazing over your skin.
You stroke along the length of his cock, your pussy throbbing at his subsequent groan, and your free hand finds one of his, pulls it to your hip, hooks his fingers over the waistband of your underwear and tugs.
A silent command, reinforced by your desperate verbal plea.
“Gedet’ye, Din.”
He doesn’t hesitate, grips the thin fabric and rips the seam with one sharp pull.
It bites into the flesh of your opposite hip but it’s only a flash of pain, almost instantly soothed by the brush of his hand down your side, pushing the remnants of your underwear down your thigh and to the floor.
Then he’s pulling his underlayer out of the way and cool air is flowing over your fingers as you stroke his cock, bitten-back moans catching in his throat to the rhythm of your hand, pausing for just a heartbeat when you guide the head of his cock to your bare cunt, tilt your hips to drag him through your folds to your entrance and -
Yes yes yes -
His cock pushes apart your inner walls, inch by inch, spreading you around the thick of him until you can’t breathe, the sudden stretch overwhelming and so good a rush of wet heat floods your core.
He grunts behind clenched teeth as he sinks another inch of his cock into your cunt. “So tight I can’t -“
“Don’t stop don’t please -“ Your voice cracks with a moan as your head falls back against the wall.
His hips roll, a sharp movement that feels involuntary, dragging his cock from your pussy with a wet sound that makes you dizzy with pleasure before shoving back so deep you cry out, lights bursting at the edge of your darkened vision.
Not enough -
Your fingers clench into the meat of his shoulders and your hips arch to take more of him.
A slew of Mandalorian words rushes hot over your collarbone. He growls low, thrusts again and finally -
Breathless groans mingle in the space between you as he buries deep, your slick folds swallowing the base of his cock greedily.
The ache throbs, momentarily satisfied, the need for connection slaked by the way your cunt pulses around his length. The thing between you loosens enough that you can breathe again, frantic need smoothing into calm, basking in the warm pleasure that spirals out from your core.
He stills, and a thick and heady silence falls around the two of you, his nose brushing alongside yours as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re too good at that.”
“At what?” You roll your hips as much as you can, moaning at the slight friction.
He presses his hips tight to yours, preventing you from repeating the motion, his voice slightly breathless. “At testing my restraint.”
That strange, giddy feeling is back, a subtle vibration behind your ribs that urges you to laugh mingling with the primal instinct to move making your head light.
You duck your head quick to nip at his neck, skin catching on your teeth. “Good. You have too much of it, sometimes.”
He clicks his tongue in admonishment. “I need all of it around you, or this is all we’d do.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” You squeeze around his cock - pfassk that feels good - and he shifts, grunting in surprise, but still doesn’t move.
Fine. Just have to play dirty.
Your lips find his ear, fingers curving over his shoulders to dig your nails into his skin. “I want this, all the time. Want you all the time, just like this, your cock filling me up so good.”
He shudders hard, and you can feel it, that exact restraint, running through his frame even as he rocks forward, unable to stop his body from seeking pleasure despite his ridiculous willpower.
Almost there.
You lean back, hands cupping his face gently as your lips pull his into the sweetest kiss you can manage with the urge to laugh and grind on his cock until you come warring in your chest. He wavers, practically melting against you, hand sliding along your thigh to grasp your waist with an almost-desperation.
Then you pull back just enough, let your words brush over his mouth.
“I think about you all the time, how perfect you feel like this, how deep you get - exactly where I need you. Like your cock was made for me.” Another tender press of your lips. “Like you were made for me.”
The moan that buzzes against your mouth fills your senses, and suddenly you’re swept up in your own game, a tiny sound slipping past your tight throat as he rests his forehead against yours, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.
He turns his face to press a kiss to your palm. “You make me believe in fate, tionas.”
A thousand emotions sweep through you, leave you on the verge of gasping for air. That deep-seated connection flares to the surface, burns away any thought of mischievous games and playful teases.
His hands slide around the small of your back, arms winding tight, tilting your hips at angle as he gently rocks into you. The push of his cock along your inner walls floods your core with white-hot pleasure, your mouth falling open in a moan that he chases with a sweep of his tongue.
Again he slowly pulls back and again he gently pushes in, over and over as pleasure spirals up and up through your body, trembles through every muscle. Your legs shake with it, threaten to crumble under your weight, and you whimper with the strain.
His arms loosen for a moment, a hand grabs your thigh, hitches it higher around his waist. “Hold on to me, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”
He thrusts in again and you cry out -
The soft cloth of his underlayer grinds over your clit as the head of his cock pushes against some spot inside you that blasts pleasure through your core.
Again -
Crikking hells -
Your hands fly to grasp his shoulders, senses reeling, entire body trembling.
His hips roll, a smooth glide away and a sharp snap -
Oh kriff -
His cock hits that spot again and wet heat floods your cunt, dampens his underlayer, ignites sparks as it presses to your clit again and -
Again -
So good so good -
Your orgasm grows bright, pulsing with each thrust of his cock along the slick walls of your pussy and another snap of his hips and it’s right there -
He grunts as another wave of slick seeps from your cunt, arms pulling tight to keep you in place when the first shudder of pleasure rolls through your body. “Yes, come for me, just like that -“
Bright wet heat -
Pleasure crashes through your senses and you frantically grasp at him as your legs give out. “Din -“
He thrusts in deep and pushes you tight to the wall, one hand gripping the back of your raised thigh to keep you up and at that angle.
A sob tears from your chest as his cock presses hard to that spot and your core clenches around him over and over with each wave of pleasure until finally -
The drop -
You’re slumping against him, fine tremors running through your frame, ribs aching with the need for air.
He sways just slightly, bracing your weight, a hand sliding up your back under your nightshirt, soothing, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Breathe, kar’ta.”
Your fingers hurt - you uncurl them from where they’ve fisted in the cloth of his underlayer over his shoulders. A few deep breaths, the weight of his hand on your back a steady reminder.
Senses dulled by pleasure blink back online and you smooth the wrinkles you had made in his underlayer, pressing a kiss to the curve of his neck. “You’re too good at that.”
A vibration under your lips marks his silent laugh as he obviously picks up on your echo of his words earlier. “At what?”
You swallow thickly, mouth dry from trying to steady your breathing, voice cracking with spent pleasure. “Making me come so hard I can’t stand up anymore.”
His cock twitches inside you and a shiver runs down your thighs, tracked by his fingers still gripping you there. “Then let me take you to bed and lay you down. I’m not done with you yet.”
You both groan as he pulls out, your cunt clenching at the sudden emptiness. He gently guides you through the dark hold, hands never leaving you, holding firmly when you falter.
It’s only a handful of steps to your shared blankets but it’s enough to clear your thoughts of the post-bliss haze and reignite your craving for him.
Your feet barely brush the fabric of the blankets before you turn to face him, slide your hands down his chest to rest on his thighs as you drop to your knees.
He groans long and low as you lean in to press a kiss to the space just above your thumb. “I said I’m not done with you.”
“And I haven’t even started with you, yet.”
You nip at the rise of his hipbone through his underlayer then immediately press your tongue to the spot, and the hiss of pleasure from above you curls into your core, arousal swirling to life once again.
He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb brushing the corner of your lips. “Feeling you come on my cock wasn’t enough? That perfect pussy squeezing me so tight I couldn’t breathe - fuck -“
You turn to capture his thumb, suck it into your mouth, swirl your tongue over it then release with a pop. “No. I’m gonna make you come until you can’t stand up anymore.”
Then you reach up and grasp the base of his cock and lave your tongue along his length to pull the head into your mouth.
Pfassk yes -
His taste floods your senses, thick warmth of his cock deliciously heavy on your tongue.
The stuttered groan that chokes from his chest shoots right to your core and you squeeze your thighs against the pulse of want.
You sink forward, pushing his length along your tongue, moaning as it pulses and a hint of that bitter tang you’d wished for earlier finally coats your tongue.
His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, trembling slightly as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue along the underside. “So good, so good to me -“
Your grip on his cock tightens, strokes up as you sink forward again, letting saliva pool in your mouth before pulling back.
He shudders hard at the twist of your hand along his slick length, whimpers when you purse your lips against the head, tip of your tongue dipping into the slit to lap up the moisture beading there. Groans when you pick up a steady rhythm with your hand, pushing saliva from your pursed lips to coat his cock and ease the friction of your grip.
Arousal builds steadily between your thighs, fed by every one of his sounds, every twitch of his cock, flex of his body as pleasure courses through him - pleasure you’re giving him.
Pfassk, it’s all too much and not enough.
Never enough.
You duck down to mouth along the underside of his cock, tongue the thick vein that throbs with each pass of your hand. His fingers dig into your scalp, groan degenerating into desperate pants that fill your thoughts completely.
Quickening the pace of your hand, you slide further down, nose along the base of his cock, swipe the flat of your tongue over the soft sac there.
His cock throbs in your grip and his hand clenches on the back of your head. “Fuck - tionas -“
You moan in response, opening your mouth wide to let the vibrations ghost over the delicate skin and trace the tip of your tongue over the gentle swell before pulling it into the wet heat of your mouth.
He chokes out a slew of unintelligible words and suddenly he’s grabbing your hand on his cock, squeezing to stop your movements, words shifting into something you understand. “Stop I want to come inside you please -“
Your pussy throbs at the desperation in his voice and you pull back, lean into the cup of his palm on the back of your head. “Yes, Din, come inside me. Fill me up with you.”
The flurry of movement is so disorienting you barely register the blankets at your back as he slots himself between your thighs and notches the head of his cock at your entrance, thrusts into your cunt with a single motion.
Oh pfassk -
You’re so wet, slick from your previous orgasm and the feel of him coming apart on your tongue and his cock sinks deep with no resistance. A rough growl reverberates through his chest, makes your pussy squeeze him tight, and he sits back, hauls your thighs around his hips and grabs your waist firmly.
There’s only a blink of a moment, a brief second when you register the sharp angle of your hips, resting on top of his thighs, bowing your back, and the hard press of the head of his cock against that spot deep inside that makes you fall apart so quickly.
Then he’s thrusting hard and your awareness shatters until all you feel is his large hands holding you in place and his cock driving deep enough to shove the air from your lungs.
Again again again -
The smack of skin and the squelch of slick as it floods your cunt matches the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat and the almost guttural groans punching through the air - his or yours, you can’t tell, everything is all too much and pleasure so white-hot it burns is coursing through your entire body and -
He shifts, thighs flexing underneath your ass, one hand sliding up under your shirt to cup a breast, grind his palm over your peaked nipple and the other diving down to swirl firm circles over your clit.
Pfassk -
You’re floating and falling and your hands are everywhere, grabbing at the blankets, his forearms, the wall behind your head, desperate for something to hold on to.
His hand leaves your breast, grasps one of yours tight, and you cling to it, hold to your chest.
His pace picks up and his cock is spearing into your core over and over and hitting that spot every time until something bursts and pleasure screams through your blood -
Everything is tight and wet and hot -
He cries out, pace faltering, slowing, fingers spasming on your skin, and your pleasure breaks just as the warmth of his fills your cunt.
A moment of calm, something soft and pure, thrumming along that connection between you.
Your grasp on his hand loosens, pressing his palm to your skin, over the rapid beat of your heart. Letting him feel it. Feel what you feel for him.
He sighs, a sound heavy with satiation, and slowly shifts away, pulling his softening cock from your pussy. A dip of disappointment curls in your stomach at the loss of him, until your hear the now-familiar rustle of fabric as he takes off his underlayer.
You sit up enough to tug your nightshirt over your head, cool air of the hold swirling over your bare breasts for just a moment before he’s with you again, broad chest and warm skin pressing tight to yours, and you sink back down into the blankets, a sigh of your own filtering through the silence as his weight settles over you.
His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking over the curve as his lips find yours, kiss you softly. You breathe deep, curl your arms around his neck and keep him close.
The kiss grows, deepens, unhurried and thorough. You lose yourself in it, content to stay just like this for as long as you can.
Forever, if possible.
A thrill jumps along your heartbeat, pools in your chest.
Maybe it is.
Maybe you can have this, have him. Forever.
You just have to let yourself have it.
I love you, Din Djarin.
I love you, tionas.
Nudging your nose to his cheek, you break the kiss just enough to speak. “Din. I love you. Really.”
You’re still close enough to feel his smile against your lips. “I know. And I love you. Really.”
A teasing lilt seeps into his voice and you pull back further, imitating his own exasperated sigh perfectly. “Mir’sheb.”
He huffs his laugh and rolls onto his back, arms hooking around your waist to take you with him. “Of course that’s your favourite Mando’a word.”
You squirm into your usual position when you lay like this, one leg sprawled over his hips and a hand spread over his heartbeat, your nose tucked into the curve of his neck, revelling in the feel of his bare skin against yours for a moment. “Teach me more and I might find another.”
A pause, his fingertips tracing circles on the back of your hand. “How about ‘gar cuyir bid vercopa be ner kar’ta.’”
Your thoughts flicker, picking up on the last word. “You’ve called me that before. Kahrohta.”
He hums in agreement. “It means ‘heart.’ I’ve called you that in my head for a long time.” His fingers stop their pattern, gently grasp your hand to lift it to his lips and press a kiss to the centre of your palm. “‘Gar cuyir bid vercopa be ner kar’ta.’ You are the dream of my heart.”
Your breath catches in your throat, emotion swarming up your chest to sting behind your eyelids. “Pfassk. Is this how all Mando’a lessons start? I wasn’t emotionally prepared for kriffing poetry.”
His snort of laughter vibrates under your cheek. “Of course you would curse - twice - when told something like that.”
“I liked it.” You return your hand to his chest, push gently in protest. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
He presses your hand tight to his chest, halting your attempt to push him again, and tucks you in closer to his side. “I will say that and more, for as long as you’ll let me.”
You still, his words echoing your own thoughts moments before.
For as long as you’ll let me.
Rising up on your elbow, you look down at him in the dark. “How do you say ‘forever?’”
A hand glides up your back and down again, thumb tracing the curve of your spine. “Darasuum.”
Slowly, you lean down, press a kiss to his lips. “Din Djarin, I will let you darasuum.”
When he kisses you again you can feel the rhythm of those words in the skittering of the heartbeat under your palm and in the pulse of your own in your chest, threaded through with that something else, that intangible knot pulling you together.
