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kaysfanficcorner · 1 year

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Out of This World Chapter 7: Stellar

Author’s Note: Well, here we are. From here on out this story is going to be SPICY. As we make our way into the events of season two, be ready for things to heat up considerably. I’m both nervous and thrilled to share this chapter with you, so please be kind and above all else ENJOY! My use of Mando’a is about to ramp up as well, and I’ve attempted to to give definitions within the story itself, but if I use any words you aren’t familiar with feel free to ask me about it. As always, if you want to join the Taglist please let me know!

Jate - Good Ca - Night Elek - Yes Ad - Son

Summary: As we make our way into the events of season two, things between the Mandalorian and the Earthling start to really heat up.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Light action violence, Nudity, Graphic depictions of sex. SMUT AND FLUFF ABOUND 🌶️

If you are under the age of 18 you are prohibited from this work of fiction.

Music Inspiration

We Might Even Be Falling In Love - Themes inspired

Music Inspiration

Stellar - Title inspired by, themes inspired

AO3

Original OOTW Fanart by Justin Wood (at the end)

*****

Life back on the Razor Crest feels incredibly strange after all that has changed. You feel like a different version of yourself when you once again climb the ramp to the ship you now openly consider to be your home. You’d left it feeling like a shell of a person after killing Ranik and now you’re returning with a stronger disposition, determined to become a warrior in your own right. Determined to feel like you can pull your weight around the ship as an equal to the Mandalorian. You’d also left the Razor Crest completely unsure of where you and Din stood with each other. The mild flirting and signals here or there had been maddening, and now the two of you are closer than you were before. Which is maddening for entirely different reasons.

You’re so happy to be reunited with your cat that you spend a good ten minutes carrying her around the ship, until she gets restless enough to pry herself from your arms. Jupiter is thrilled in her own feline way to have everyone back on board, and the kid is just as thrilled to be back home with her. Similarly to yourself, the little green child won’t leave her alone for the first few days out in space.

On the second day after Nevarro, you even walk in on the kid using his powers to grab at Jupiter’s tail from a few feet away. Every time the poor orange feline meows and tries to whip around to slash at an assailant that isn’t actually there, the kid giggles. You’d scooped him up and giggle too, before booping him on the nose and lightly telling him he shouldn’t use his powers to mess with people or animals.

The Space RV is pretty much just how it had been left, save for the little tune ups here and there that were ordered. Being back on board is both a comfort to you, and a frustration. Frustration eventually evolves into aggravation, and it isn’t until a few weeks have gone by that you come to terms with why you’re so fucking irritable all the sudden.

It’s Din.

You came back to the Razor Crest assuming that things were going to continue to feel the way that they had on Nevarro, that Din would continue you dote on you with the soft side of his personality that is only ever meant for you or the kid to experience. Somehow what you end up getting from your cosmic companion is the complete opposite. He’s not touchy feely anymore, and the words of affection have drifted from his tongue.

As the weeks drag on, you sincerely miss the inn on Nevarro. Comfortable bed aside, now that you’re home on the Space RV, you and Din no longer sleep next to one another. It’s back to taking turns in the cot. You’d gotten used to the feeling of your bodies intertwining as you both drifted off to sleep, and it’s hard for you to find comfort in your nightly rest without it. Sometimes he’d spoon you, others you’d been the one holding him. If you had to choose a favorite position, holding Din while he fell asleep would hands down be the winner. Feeling his body relax against you, limbs twitching here and there as his mind switches over from consciousness to unconsciousness, is something you’d come to treasure by the end of the week long stay on your beloved lava planet.

As upset as you are that you’re not going to be able to sleep next to Din like that any time soon, you’re even more upset that you never got around to sleeping with Din while having such a luxurious bed at your disposal. With the kid around there was just never a good time to try again.

Being home, it’s painfully obvious that there aren’t a ton of comfortable places to have a sexual encounter on the Crest. Declarations of mutual attraction and a week of fluffy little moments had been absolutely lovely, but you’re dying to consummate whatever this is between the two of you. Wondering when or if a good time for it will ever present itself is making you extremely antsy, and its becoming impossible to hold it in around the increasingly grumpier Din Djarin you find yourself stuck with. It’s driving you nuts, to the point where now you’re just getting pissed off about it.

Perhaps he’s dealing with similar frustrations about what’s going on between you. Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s got your makeshift family on a wild goose chase to drop off one of it’s members with complete strangers. More than likely, as it is with yourself, its a combination of the two things.

You’re perfectly aware that aside from the issues going on between the adults, a part of your heart shatters every single time you share a loving moment of fondness with the child. That being said, your only goal in regards to the little foundling is to love him and enjoy your remaining time together.

Which is one of the reasons why, today, you’re so pissed off at Din that you could punch that fucking helmet off of his head and risk breaking your own hand in the process. It’s as if he’s actively trying not to enjoy his time with anyone.

The Razor Crest is parked at a star port for a quick refuel, and so you insist that loading up on some more food and supplies for the cat is a necessity. Din just seems completely irritated with you when you suggest this, and it’s all you can do not to snap at him.

With a huff you tell him, “I’ll just go take care of it myself, you don’t have to come.”

“Absolutely not,” he counters, arms crossed over his chest.

You roll your eyes so hard that you nearly pull an ocular muscle. “Okay, then come on. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get back on the road.”

“Fine,” Din agrees, voice dripping with animosity.

Between you, the child can sense your friction and his ears are casting downward as he frowns. He clearly dislikes his humans being snippy with one another. You sense this, so you scoop him up into your arms and begin walking down the ramp.

“Shouldn’t we use the pram?” Din asks, watching the two of you walk off.

You call over your shoulder, “Screw the pram. Just come on.”

And so you’re forced to shop for food with an uninterested, grumpy Mandalorian hovering over your shoulder and you feel as if you’re going to explode at any minute. Fighting with Din is the last thing you want, but if you aren’t able to have a conversation with him about what his problem is you’re afraid it’s going to come to that sooner rather than later.

What you really don’t understand is why a conversation hasn’t been had already. Aside from that first awkward month of living together, the communication between yourself and Din has been pretty good up to this point. Why it feels like you suddenly can’t approach him, you do not know. It’s starting to make your fight or flight instincts want to kick in, reminding you of what it felt like to constantly be on edge around your toxic family. Din is far from toxic, but it triggers you nonetheless.

So you try your hardest to ignore him, juggling the baby on one hip as you look at he various foods before you. The shop on the star port is small, and much like gas stations on the side of big highways back on Earth, the food seems both overpriced and unhealthy compared to the various fresh markets you’ve been to.

“Would your son like a free sample?” A voice suddenly catches your attention.

You look up from the vegetables to see an attractive young human man behind the counter. His dark skin is in contrast from his white hair and light blue eyes, and he’s dressed very plainly. A kind simile graces his features as he holds out what looks like a fried frog leg on a stick towards the baby, who is in turn grasping for it hungrily.

“What? Oh,” you hear yourself still sounding on edge so you try to force your voice to become pleasant with a fake smile plastered to your face. “Uh, yes thank you. He’s constantly hungry so I can’t say no to free food.”

“Here you go little fella,” the man says, smiling down at the kid as he hands it to him. “You have a beautiful family, ma’am.”

The compliment causes your chest to swell and you squeeze the kid tighter. Just as you’re about to say thank you and move on, the man speaks again.

“What’s his name?”

Then the tightness in your chest drops down into your stomach, a feeling of dread washing over you. How fucking embarrassing, even though it’s no one’s fault that neither you nor Din know the kid’s actual name. You fumble around for a quick answer, “Oh, well you know how it is with babies. He’s got a ton of nicknames. We hardly ever call him his real name because I can’t stop calling him ‘Green Bean’ at the moment.”

The man laughs, throwing his head back a little. “Oh, I get it. My wife can’t stop calling our little one ‘chubby cheeks.’ I keep telling her it’s going to give the kid a complex but she doesn’t listen.” He looks past you to where Din is standing behind and to your right side, “I’m sure you can relate, sir.”

You look back to Din, making a face that hopefully reads as “just play along”. The beskar helmet looks at you for a long moment, his shoulders squaring. Eventually he looks to the vendor with a shrug, “I try not to fight her on much.”

You can’t help but feel that his statement was directed at you just as much as the vendor, hoping that this is him making an attempt to address the misplaced bitterness between you. If it is, his timing really does suck. The kid is already done with his frog leg, so you take the pointy stick from him before he accidentally pokes himself.

With another laugh, the kind vendor nods his head, “I should try that with my wife and see if it gets me out of trouble more often.” The man reaches below the counter and pulls out another of the free samples. “Here, have another leg for Green Bean. On the house.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling brightly at the man. As annoyed as you had been when you entered the shop, having a friendly human encounter has helped to liven you up a little. You look down at the child in your arms, jerking your head towards the man. “Say bye, Green Bean.”

The kid complies, ears shifting as he looks to the man with a big smile on his tiny mouth. He gurgles and makes a few noises, using his free hand to wave up at the nice man.

You make a few more purchases, including more protein packs for Jupiter, and when you have everything on your list you inform Din and the child that it’s time to head back to the ship. Once the group is no longer around other people in the sanctity of the Razor Crest, you look down at the baby on your hip and lift him up so that you can kiss him on the head. “I wish we knew your real name, buddy. Sorry we have to call you ‘Green Bean’ or ‘the kid’ all the time.”

Din walks up beside you and speaks in a low voice. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” his tone is sharp.

Great, you think sarcastically. With a sigh, you stop what you’re doing and turn to look up at him. “Do what, Din?”

“Pretend that we’re his parents,” he says flatly, irritation floating just bellow the surface.

“I didn’t feel like explaining the real situation to that guy,” you offer lamely.

“You could have just declined his offer and moved on.”

“The kid was hungry.”

“You enjoyed it when that man called him your son,” Din’s voice sounds like it’s on the edge of control.

“Oh my God,” you groan with frustration, “yes! Okay? I did. Is that such a crime? I’ve practically been his foster mother for months. And like it or not you’ve been his foster father for much longer than that. I love him as if he was mine, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“It is irresponsible,” Din quietly seethes, you can practically hear his jaw clenching under the helmet.

“What is?” It’s all you can do not to raise your voice, “Giving him a home full of love? Letting him be a child?”

The kid makes a sad little noise between you and you both stop to look down at his distressed face. A feeling of guilt arises in your chest, having never wanted to make the kid feel as uncomfortable as you did when your own parents would fight in your presence.

“We shouldn’t do this in front of him,” Din finally says after a long moment of silence. He reaches out to touch one of the child’s downcast ears. The kid is clearly upset. “It’s okay, pal. We aren’t fighting.”

You drop your voice even lower as your eyes fill with tears. “We kind of are, Din. I hate this. Why are we being so cold towards each other? This isn’t us. At least, I didn’t think it was.”

He sighs heavily, “You’re right. This isn’t us. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” you move closer to him, grabbing one of his gloved hands. “But I’m not sorry for how I treat this child. What if we take him to these Jedi people and they aren’t who we think they are? Or what if they are great, but the kid still doesn’t like it? Don’t you want him to know that he has a place to come back to where he is loved?”

“I…” Din seems to falter for a second before dipping his head towards his foster son, “Yes. I want him to know that. I want you to know that, buddy. ”

You squeeze his hand tighter, looking into the visor as you speak. “Think about us, what our childhoods looked like. We didn’t get to enjoy being kids for very long. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I was denying him the right to actually be a child while he’s in my care. I realize that when we do find the Jedi, its going to be extremely hard on all of us. And I realize that the more attached we get to each other, the harder it’s going to be to say goodbye. I know that this is going to be especially hard on you as the one who’s been caring for him the longest, but pretending that you don’t have feelings wrapped up in this isn’t going to make it any easier. We owe to to him as well as ourselves to treat him with love. Is he not an integral member of your two person clan?”

“It’s already hard,” Din says, voice choked, “I am going to miss him.”

“I’m going to miss him too,” you agree, misty eyes threatening to boil over as you cradle the child between the two of you. Din places a hand to the back of his tiny head so that you are both holding him. “But as long as he knows he can always be a part Clan Mudhorn, we may not have to miss him forever.”

Din seems to agree with this, gently touching his beskar forehead to the child’s fleshy one as he speaks to him in Mando’a. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad.”

You’ve been studying very basic phrases, numbers, and the Mando’a alphabet since leaving Nevarro, but what Din just said is almost completely lost on you. Not wanting to break from this tender moment, you decide that asking for a definition can wait until later. Instead you snuggle into the small group embrace, whispering to the green child that you love him dearly.

“It’s nice to have you back,” you tell your Mandalorian after he lifts up to pull apart from you. His body language is more akin to the Din you know, less stiff.

“Thank you for reminding me to be here,” Din replies.

You set the kid down between you, letting him waddle off to find Jupiter or something to mess with that he shouldn’t. You look at Din, opening your arms to offer him a real hug. “Still friends?”

He nods, pulling your body against him, “Elek, ner burc’ya.”

Instead of responding with the word in basic, you decide to reply to him with the Mando’a word for good, “Jate. I am sorry for letting my bitchiness get the better of me. It was not easy to go from having you feel like my partner on Nevarro to unexpectedly getting the cold shoulder for over half a month.”

“I thought I needed to pull away,” Din confirms.

“Yeah, well next time you feel the urge to pull away can we try to talk about it first?”

“I will try,” he sighs, “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing great on Nevarro. Real boyfriend material.” Cringing, you wish to hell that you hadn’t just said that last part. If this thing between the two of you does end up progressing even further, boyfriend is the absolute wrong term for a man like Din. It sounds so… Earthy.

Din squeezes you, “On Nevarro things didn’t feel real. It felt like time had stopped and all there was, was you, me, and the kid. I could have stayed there forever, and when I realized this it unsettled me.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “Aww, Din. You had the post-vacation blues. It happens to everyone, totally normal.”

“I did not care for it.”

*****

A few more weeks go by and things between you and Din have improved considerably. He’s no longer shutting you out or acting cold, and the communication between you is more at the surface.

Unfortunately, though, the two of you have still yet to take any measures to further your budding relationship along. Now that you’re no longer irritated with him, you really just wish that you could fuck him already. It’s getting to the point where it’s actively a problem.

Din seems to be able to tell that something is up with you, because he eventually calls you out on it when the two of you are practicing with whipchord launchers on the lower deck of the ship. He’s begun training you on the various weapons that a Mandalorian considers to be essential, and up until now you’ve been incredibly enthusiastic. Even though a lot of what he’s trying to teach you does not come naturally, and most days you end up both exhausted and vexed, you approach every one of his lessons with respect.

Today, however, all the fervor has drained from you. The whipchord launcher seems impossible to use, and Din’s so fucking mesmerizing that you you could care less about weaponry. Watching him move so effortlessly to shoot his whipchord at the makeshift dummy he’d set up only serves to cause your mind to wander to lewd places. Horny and nonplused, your heart just isn’t in training and it must be obvious.

“What’s going on with you?” Din asks, stopping mid sentence when he figures out that you haven’t been listening.

“Sorry, I’m just in a mood,” you explain with a half hearted shrug, “I swear I’m trying to pay attention.”

His shoulders soften a little as he looks you over, “Is it anything I can help with?”

You stare at him for a long moment, knowing full well that the kid is within earshot only a few feet away. He’s curled up in the cot with his meerkat toy and his silver ball, watching you and his dad with huge eyes. Considering your words carefully, you say, “Actually you’re the only one who can help with this particular problem, but it’s most definitely not the right time to talk about this.”

Din follows your gaze to his foundling, then his silver head snaps back to you, “Oh.”

“I can’t help it that you’re really attractive and distracting,” you smirk a little, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watch him.

“Mm,” Din seems to consider his own words carefully before responding to you. “Tell you what, if you can master the whipchord while overcoming your distraction, I’ll let you jump the Razor Crest into hyperdrive by yourself. A warrior must learn to fight in spite of distractions, to purge them from the mind completely in the face of battle.”

“Deal, Chrome Dome,” you agree with a grin. You’ve been practicing your flying almost daily, but he’s barley let you touch anything in the cockpit without his strict supervision.

And so you practice over and over again, listening to every word Din says to you. Each syllable you let soak in with respect, ignoring the fact that he now seems to be purposefully doing things to distract you. He keeps flexing as he shows you the controls or titling his head a certain way. Then you know he’s really trying to get under your skin when he comes up behind you to adjust the forearm holding the spare vambrace he’d given you, and he gently presses his slight bulge into your ass.

Even though you can’t see his face, you know for a fact that he’s enjoying every moment of tormenting you. It’s all over his body language, which you’re getting increasingly better at reading. Who knew that Din Djarin has a wicked side.

Eventually you’re able to successfully launch the chord at the dummy, watching as it wraps around it just the way Din showed you. You try to yank the thing forward and knock it onto its side, simulating the act of pulling an enemy to the ground in one fell swoop. But nothing happens, much to your shock and disappointment. As hard as you’re trying, you just can’t seem to get this right.

“Ugh,” you groan.

“It’s okay, Cyar’ika,” your cosmic companion comforts, a hand on your shoulder as he peers down at you. You can see your frustration in the silver reflection. “You’ll get it eventually,” he adds. Obviously you have no idea what his face is doing behind the beskar barrier, yet for some reason you feel as if he’s looking at you fondly.

You repeat this action until it’s almost coming naturally, and Din decides that he’s pleased with enough with your progress that he declares the training session to be over. After cleaning up and putting the dummy away, you both realize that the kid is napping in the cot. The two of you decide to leave him there as you climb up to the cockpit one at at time.

Once upstairs, you look to Din with a sigh, “Sorry about getting distracted earlier. I was definitely on edge.”

“You’re still on edge,” Din observes, “Your body is very tense.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” you mumble, moving forward to wrap your arms around his waist. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

Din’s arms find you, “I miss that as well. But I know that’s not where this tension is coming from. You’ve been like this for the last couple of days.”

Cheeks flushing, you burry your head into his shoulder with a groan. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’ve been giving off signals,” the Mandalorian chuckles a little. “But I am not without tension of my own. I’m sorry that there hasn’t been a good moment for us to resume what we started on Nevarro.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” you pull apart from him slightly to look right into the visor. “I think I’m just psyching myself out about it.”

“I don’t understand the phrase.”

“I just mean I’m overthinking it, and subsequently second guessing myself. I haven’t had a partner in almost three years, so I’m worried that I’m a little rusty in the sheets.”

Din scoffs a little, shaking his head, “I have similar worries. I have not… been with another in nearly ten cycles.”

“Fuck, that’s a long time,” you utter softly, wondering how uncomfortable this conversation is for him as he confesses this to you.

Din nods, voice wavering as he speaks, “It hasn’t been entirely up to chance that we have not moved forward. I have not pursued connection with another in so long. Worry of my own inadequacy has been on my mind, preventing me from pursuing you.”

Brow furrowing as you regard your very good friend and possible lover, you reach out to trail delicate fingers over the black visor of his silver helmet as if touching his brow. “Then let’s not rush this. It can happen when the timing feels right for the both of us.”

The Mandalorian leans his head forward to knock lightly into yours, and a warm smile finds it’s way to your lips. No amount of Mandalorian head butts you receive from him are ever too much.

“I know we had a deal but I’d still like to see you jump the ship by yourself. Do you remember what we went over when I last showed you the hyperdrive?” Din asks, lifting up to his full height again as he moves over to the pilot’s seat.

You follow, coming to stand beside him as you look over the many lighted controls. “We talked about how to enter in jump coordinates into the navigational computer.”

Din takes a seat, pulling you down with him so that you’re seated in his lap. “Correct. Do you think you can enter them in without my help?”

You nod, “Yeah, I think so.”

It sounds like there is a smile riding the tone of his voice, “I want you to enter in these coordinates and jump us there.”

A little orange holographic display pops up from Din’s left vambrace, letters and numbers written in Mando’a. You can read some of it, but you squint at it for a moment before you turn your head to look at him. It’s taking most of your will power to ignore the feeling in your belly that stirs from being seated on his warm legs. His lap is comfortable, even with the hard beskar upon his thighs.

“I can only read some of that. I know there’s a x, a three, a four, and a nine.”

“You’ve been studying,” Din says fondly, switching the holograph over to basic so you can read it clearly. The basic alphabet is something you’d memorized with Cara prior to meeting your Mandalorian.

“Learning Mando’a is important to me,” you reply with equal fondness. Neither of you says anything else as you lean forward to begin entering in the coordinates into the computer. Din’s hands come to rest comfortably on your waist as you fumble a little bit with the typing, still not used to all of the symbols yet. Eventually you have the correct information inputed into the system, and then your hand lingers over the button which will jump the ship to those coordinates through hyperspace. You look back to Din and wait for him to give you the okay.

“Punch it, Cyar’ika.”

The ship lurches forward as stars begin their dance all around your metal home, an incredible sense of pride washing over you. Successfully jumping the Razor Crest feels like such an achievement.

When the jump is over in a few hours, Din helps you to bring the ship out of hyperspace. Now the kid is awake again and in his usual seat with Jupiter, so you’re seated in the pilot seat without the added cushion of one Din Djarin. The Mandalorian in question tells you that you’ve jumped the ship just outside the atmosphere of a planet on the outskirts of the outer rim, and that he’s brought all of you there so he can question a crime lord named Gor Koresh about where to find other Mandalorians. There have been rumors that Koresh is an underground beskar dealer, and Din thinks that he may have leads.

According to Din, if he can navigate through the various Mandalorian coverts scattered across the galaxy, then maybe he’ll have a better chance of finding a Jedi. Perhaps one of his own kind has information on where to find such a being. He’s made these Jedi people sound like literal space wizards when trying to explain it to you with what little knowledge he has on the subject, and if you weren’t sour about the fact that the purpose of finding one is to give them the kid, you’d probably be pretty excited to see what a space wizard looks like.

Din assists you in bringing the Razor Crest in for a landing, something you’re only starting to feel slightly comfortable doing, and then the two of you take the kid and the cat downstairs to discuss the plan.

“Follow my lead,” Din says as he hands over your blaster. He also hands you the small dagger you’ve been practicing with and the old whipchord vambrace you’d used earlier. “Do not say anything that’ll get us into trouble, and above all else stay calm. There’s a good chance that this could turn into an ambush for my armor, so try your best to remain unperturbed if things go south.”

You nod, holstering the blaster before strapping the vambrace to your forearm. This one isn’t made of beskar, but you still feel somewhat official adhering it to your person. You’re in your favorite outfit, and it helps to make you feel more confident about going on a mission at Din’s side. You stick the dagger into the side of your right boot, grinning up at Din once you’re done. “I’m starting to feel like a badass, getting to go with you to do cool Mandalorian shit.”

“Don’t get too cocky either,” Din adds, sounding amused.

With the child in his pram, the three of you make your way out of the ship and into the crime ridden streets of the city’s grungy warehouse district. Every run down building is riddled with graffiti, and you know that nothing good must happen in a place like this. It’s all very Gotham City in a weird sci-fi kind of way.

“Yeesh,” you mumble to yourself, eyes flicking around in every direction as your guard moves up on high alert.

Din seems to be purposefully staying under the dim street lamps, and you realize why as you see a glimmer of red to your right. It occurs to you that what you’re seeing is several sets of glowing eyes watching you from deep within a dark alley. When you hear the faintest growl coming from that direction, you quickly pick up the pace in order to keep closer to Mando.

Eventually you come to a stop where a male Twi’lek, as you’ve learned they are called, is working as the doorman for some sort of seedy looking establishment. Din tells him that your group is there to see Gor Koresh, and you’re surprised that the doorman moves to the side without much of a second thought. You’d assumed it was going to be much harder than that to get in.

You and the kid follow your Mandalorian into some sort of underground wrestling match, and you feel even more like you’re in a Batman comic as you take in your surroundings. Aliens of all shapes and sizes are packed into the space, screaming with fistfuls of drinks and paraphernalia as two green pig-like men fight each other in the large ring. The room is smoky, stinking of sweaty men, alcohol, and blood. A cacophony that only seems to get louder the further you tread into the crowd begins to hurt your ears, leaving you to hope that the kid’s big green ones are doing okay. You can only imagine how loud this may sound to him.

Being in a place like this is slightly exhilarating in spite of the nerves you feel. It reminds you of the one time you went to Earth wrestling, or some of the really low rent EDM shows from back in your early twenties. Except on Earth when you had gone to watch wrestling it was old dudes with metal folding chairs, not green Pumba-looking aliens with battle axes.

When your group comes upon a cyclops alien with an open seat on either side and group of goons surrounding him, you assume this must be Koresh. Din takes one of the seats beside him and motions for you to take the seat on the other side, the two of you surrounding the stout man. You try your best to ignore the lecherous stares from some of the other men around you, focusing on Din and the business he is here to conduct.

“This is no place for a child,” Koresh says, causing Din to straighten slightly.

“Where I go, he goes,” Din replies cooly.

The two of them talk things over for a while, until Koresh mentions Din giving his beskar armor up in exchange for information about the other Mandalorians. It’s all you can do not to chime in with something snarky, but you remember what Din had told you about not getting them into trouble. It seems that trouble comes regardless though, when Din says that he’s not going to leave his fate up to chance and Koresh agrees by pulling out a blaster. He shoots one of the wrestlers dead before pointing the blaster right at Din’s unprotected neck.

If he were to fire, Din would be dead in an instant.

Keep calm. Trust him, your voice is whispering inside your head, which also has a blaster pointed to it. All of the goons surrounding Koresh have drawn a weapon and are now pointing it at either Din or yourself. Any patrons who are not involved begin to scream and scatter from the building.

Koresh gives some small speech about how beskar has been rising in price and that he’s become quite fond of it, while threatening to peel the armor from Din’s corpse if he doesn’t give it up. You notice that Din is calmly arming his whistling birds, and the kid sees it too as he closes himself inside the pram. Then, Gor Koresh turns to you for the first time since you’d sat next to him and places a hand on your upper thigh. He’s dangerously close to snaking a hand between your legs, and still you remain calm.

He makes a lewd remark about how he’ll take you as well if Mando is willing to give up just some of the beskar, and Din’s voice never falters as he speaks to the crime lord with an even but forceful tone.

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are, and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.”

Koresh scoffs, “I thought you said you weren’t the gambler.”

“I’m not.”

And with that, Din’s whistling birds take down all of Koresh’s goons who’d had you both at blaster point. Both of you are up from your seats immediately, and you manage to dip down and dodge the oncoming blow from an alien directly behind you. For a second you think of Ranik’s death by your hand on Nar Shaddaa. Then when your body begins to freeze up you’re somehow able to purge the feeling of fear from your system and focus on the situation at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that Din has his hands full, but your not worried about him as you continue to move away from the man before you and his oncoming attacks. While you are crouched down to avoid a high kick, you pull the dagger from your boot and jam it into his thigh just above the knee. Howling in pain, he falls to the ground as you yank your dagger from his thigh and begin to lift yourself up. He attempts to lunge at you again, so you run the blade along his wrist before standing to your full height to move away from him.

Glancing to Din to make sure he’s still okay, you notice that Koresh is using the fight as a distraction and he’s waddling off towards the back of the arena. Without thinking twice, you take off after him. The rest of the goons are attacking Din, so you’re able to slip away quite easily. Koresh is shuffling as hard as he can but his little legs don’t get the portly man far, so you’re able easily to follow him out into the street. Huffing and puffing, Koresh looks back at you and shouts as you lift your right forearm. Aiming as much as you can with a moving target, you initiate your whipchord and watch with glee as it wraps around Koresh’s legs on the first try. The alien falls to the ground with a grunt and a thud.

“Oh shit,” you exclaim, holding the chord tight, “I did it!”

You can feel the presence of another coming up behind you, but before you can react to a possible attack Mando’s modulated voice is in your ears. Upon hearing your cosmic companion, your body relaxes a little.

“You caught him?” he sounds completely amazed.

“Yeah, holy shit!”

You observe as Din takes the chord from you and swings the end of it up over the light post above your head, pulling Koresh up until he’s hanging upside down in front of you. Din ties him off and then comes to stand before him as he pleads for Din to stop.

“Serves you right for tying to buy me, creep,” you shove at the alien, making him swing a little.

“I’ll tell you where he is, but you must give me your word that you will not kill me,” Koresh pleads, panting.

The Mandalorian steadies him and looks down into the one upside down eye as he speaks evenly, “I promise you will not die by my hand. Now where is the Mandalorian you know of?”

“Tatooine.”

“What?!”

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine!”

“I’ve spent much time on Tatooine, I’ve never seen a Mandalorian there.”

“My information is good, I tell you! The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gatra.”

“Tatooine it is, then.”

Koresh starts screaming for Mando to cut him down as your friend simply motions to you that your group is leaving. The kid’s pram is floating just behind Din as he walks off so you turn to follow as well. When Koresh screams that he can’t be left like that, Din turns back to the little one eyed man with his blaster raised.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Din says cooly, and shoots the street light out.

Koresh dangles there in the dark like a piece of meat, and you turn back for a moment to watch as he’s swarmed by those same red eyed creatures from the alley. You quickly spin around and catch up to Mando as the alien’s screams of agony echo behind you.

*****

“I’m going to put him down in the cot, I’ll be right back.” Din says, squeezing your shoulder with his free hand. The kid is sleeping in Din’s other arm and you just nod your head, on the verge of falling asleep yourself.

Space RV is back in hyperspace and you’ve since cleaned yourself up from the fight in the arena. Dressed in comfortable clothes for sleeping, you feel almost cozy curled up in your blanket on the red leather seat. The Mandalorian only leaves you alone in the cockpit for a few minutes, and you start to nod off a little while he’s gone. But then he’s climbing the ladder again, his voice bringing you back to reality.

“Thank you for your help tonight,” he says, moving all the way into the small control room to join you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, throwing a sleepy little smile up his way.

“The way you handled yourself was… exemplary. Taking the initiative to chase after Koresh, using the whipchord launcher just like we practiced. You kept calm even when we were being held at blasterpoint. I’m very proud of you, ner burc’ya.”

As Din is saying all of this, showering you with compliments, he’s slowly dropping down to his knees in front of you. Positioning himself between your legs, Din’s tone of voice morphs into something akin to sultry, and he reaches a hand forward to cup your face. His gloves and most of his armor have been removed.

“So fucking proud of you,” he says lowly, and your back straightens as his phrasing sobers you up from the sleepiness you’ve been feeling up to this point.

Din never uses that word in the way that you do. In fact, he’s only ever repeated it to you the one time after he had realized it’s definition. So when he says it right now it gets your full attention, causing you to sit up and look at him with raised eyebrows. The blanket falls from your shoulders in a clump behind you.

“Yeah? You’re how proud of me?” You repeat back, scooting yourself forward so that your groin is right up against him. You place a hand on either side of his head and look straight down at the beskar, pleased when he doesn’t move to stop you like he had last time. He trusts that you are not trying to remove it, and that fact alone fills you with joy.

The helmet in question tilts up at a sharp angle to look at you, “Take off your clothes and I’ll show you how proud I am.”

“What’s gotten into you? What happened to taking this slow?”

Din starts to lift the hem of your Bowie shirt, sliding his bare hands underneath the thin fabric as he inches it upwards. “Watching your bravery, seeing you use the skills that I’ve taught you. We felt like a team, like partners.”

“It was pretty nice to feel like I could be useful in a situation like that,” you agree, grinding your hips a little as you speak.

Din’s fingers continue pushing your shirt up until your breasts are exposed, stopping to tease both nipples with soft little pinches. “What I didn't like, was Koresh having the audacity to touch you.”

Your heart is beginning to beat faster, loving where this is going as you play dumb, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Don’t like people touching things that don’t belong to them,” he growls, lifting up to be more level with you as he pushes you back against the backrest of your red seat.

“And who do I belong to?”

“Me, Cyar’ika. You are mine,” Din’s voice is so lascivious, you feel as if your entire body could melt into goo right then and there.

“Tell me that again,” you demand as Din begins to yank the yoga pants and underwear from your waist.

He wiggles the fabric out from under your ass, leaning in towards you. “You are mine,” he repeats in that same lusty growl.

You long to run your fingers through hair, his hair, so you squeeze the helmet tighter. “I’m all yours, but that means you have to be all mine.”

“Naturally,” he finishes disrobing your bottom half, discarding with your clothes behind him, “I belong to you.”

Feeling a chill run through you now that most of you is exposed to the cool air, a little moan escapes your lips. You let go of him and rip the shirt from your head before leaning back into the seat more as you spread your legs. Of course, your planet necklace is the only thing adorning your now nude form. “Mmm, tell me that you’re proud of me again. That I did a good job.”

He’s beginning to unfasten his own pants, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Cyar’ika.”

“Show me, Din. Please,” you whine for him.

Din is almost fully dressed save for his hands, but now he’s pulling himself out and you really stop to appreciate how impressive he is when fully hard. Uncircumcised and quite large, he’s unlike any of the sexual partners you’ve been with in the past. The prospect of feeling him enter you is enough to make your entire body quiver with anticipation, core heating up rapidly.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, reaching out to take him into your hand. His entire body jerks forward when you make contact, a soft moan escaping him. “What is it, handsome?” Your voice is salacious.

“Been so long,” he mutters, his own wanton voice strained and husky.

You begin to stroke him, loving the way he melts into your hands. He braces himself on your chair as you scoot yourself forward and slide off of it, landing softly on your butt so that you’re at eye level with the impressive appendage. Then you part your lips, tongue protruding, and the noise Din makes when you slide the tip of him into your mouth is one you plan to cherish forever.

Hips bucking involuntarily, Din slides himself in and out as you gently suck. You’re careful not to use too much pressure or teeth, and under the beskar his eyes are rolling into the back of his head at the sensation. This doesn’t feel real. It’s got to be a dream, because nothing in his life has ever felt this fucking good.

“It’s real, Din,” you say as you come up for air, saliva running from the corners of your slightly swollen lips.

Had he said that out loud? He was sure that had been a private thought.

It doesn’t matter, all that matters is the pleasure he hasn’t felt in far too long. The dust and cobwebs have been cleared from his dormant libido, and he can feel a much older version of himself start to reawaken. Your mouth is lovely and warm and wet, but he’s suddenly ready to feel you clamp your muscles around him as you whine in ecstasy.

Pulling out of your mouth with a small pop, he leans back and brings your blanket down with him. You watch him with hunger in your gorgeous eyes as he lays the thick black fabric down on the floor of the cockpit before guiding you to lay down on your back.

You allow him to gently push you down, spreading your legs as he positions himself between them. The floor is hard and unforgiving, and will likely fuck your back up for the following day, but in this moment both of could give a shit less.

“Tell me what you want, ner cyare,” Din demands, swollen cock in one hand as he hovers over you with his other hand finding your soft wetness. It’s not lost on you that he’s calling you a word you do not know, but that can wait. His fingers are grazing over the sensitive swollen flesh of your clit, and nothing else fucking matters anymore.

Hands at the base of his neck, you lift up to whisper into the right side of his helmet, “I want my Mandalorian to fuck me so hard that I forget my own name.”

The heat between your legs only fires up more when you feel the tip of him press into your opening, and when you least expect it he thrusts all the way in. A gargled cry erupts from your throat, pain and pleasure both cascading through you as you realize you really haven’t taken anyone this big before. You’ve never been this full.

“Oh fucking hell,” you grunt, wiggling your hips around to try and adjust to his size pushed all the way in.

“You okay?” He pants above you. Fuck, if only you could feel his tongue in your mouth.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt out again, “you’re just bigger than I’m used to.”

Din pumps in and out, slowly at first but soon his pacing picks up to a more feverish rhythm. Nothing about this is picturesque. It’s rough, and raw, and messy. Both of you are so full of passion that your movements are almost frantically out of sync for the first few minutes. Eventually though, you start to tune yourselves into each other. Your hips rock up to meet his has he thrusts forward, and when your legs wrap around his waist it feels like he enters you even deeper. It feels so intense that you dig your nails into his lower back under the shirt as a loud noise escapes you, louder than any of the noises you’ve made thus far.

Din’s hand comes to clamp over your mouth, adding enough pressure to make you moan even louder against his palm.

“Shh,” he coos, “don’t want to wake the kid.”

With his hand stifling the obscene noises you’re unable to control, Din begins to really fuck you. No gentle thrusting, no consideration for your pain tolerance. He’s slamming into you with so much speed and force that you can barely keep your eyes open to look at him. You’re fully aware that you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but you adore every second of his rough handling of your body. It hurts, but in that way that you’ve learned to crave when it comes to sex.

Then he suddenly pulls out, leaving you feeling empty as he releases you to the ground and sits back on his booted heels. “Shit,” he exclaims, breathing more heavily than you’ve ever heard him. His hands are on his knees as he hunches forward.

Din really had to force himself off of you, afraid that if it went any further he’d finish too soon.

You’re similarly worried, sitting up to look at him with your brow furrowed. This is the most unprotected you’ve ever been, and it’s only just now occurring to you that the two of you need to be careful. “Did you…?”

“Almost,” he’s still catching his breath, “Sorry for being so rough with you.”

“You could be rougher,” you grin at him, “I’ve never been one for gentle sex.”

Crawling forward, you plop down onto your stomach right in front of him and prop yourself up on your forearms. Hesitantly, as this side of Din is so new to you and you’re not sure what will go over well, you stick out your tongue and run it from the base of his lovely cock all the way up to the tip. His body shudders as he moans, and you’re so proud of yourself for being able to cause these reactions in him.

“Mm, I taste so good on you,” you remark, smirking up at him as his head leans back to point up at the ceiling.

Din grunts out, “Oh fuck, Cyar’ika,” as his hips buck forward.

You take the opportunity to pull him all the way into your mouth, letting as much of his length as you can take slide down your throat. Bobbing, you begin to work his cock with your mouth and his hands come to grip at your hair. He pulls harder than you expect him to, but this only serves to kindle the blazing fire in your core as he helps guide your head up and down.

Then he yanks upward, causing you to pop off of him and look up. The beskar helmet is looking directly at you, and you whine a little bit just from the sight before your eyes. Din’s hardness in the foreground and the way his head is tilted down, you can only imagine what his face must look like riddled with lust.

“I want you to cum for me, Din,” you pant, mouth dripping.

He shakes his head, voice taking on a commanding tone that leaves you weak, “I’m not done with you yet. My chair. Now.”

Din never lets go of your hair, walking you on all fours across the short distance to the pilot’s seat. As uncomfortable as this is on your knees, you do not complain one bit. He’s handling you in the way you’ve been fantasizing about for months. You let him guide your naked body up on the seat, chest and stomach pressed down into the leather as you bend over it.

Oh shit, he’s going to take you from behind.

“Ner Mesh’la. Ner Cyare,” he croons, “tell me who you belong to.” He’s positioning himself at your opening once again, so you brace yourself against the seat as you turn to look back at your Mandalorian in all his glory. Din Djarin is absolutely fucking intoxicating like this, and now that you’re finally getting to experience it first hand, you feel as if you never want another person besides him to touch you for the rest of your life.

“I belong to Din Djarin, the best fucking Mandalorian in the galaxy.”

“That’s right, Cyar’ika.” Din grasps onto one of your forearms with his free hand as he places it to your lower back and holds it there. “And who do I belong to?”

“Me,” you moan, “you’re my Mandalorian, Din. All fucking mine.”

The next words that flow from Din’s mouth come so naturally that he doesn’t stop to second guess himself. He unabashedly says how he feels, how he’s been feeling. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

You’re squirming beneath him, pushing your ass out. “Quit teasing me,” you whine.

“Don’t get mouthy,” he reprimands lightly, spanking your ass once for good measure.

“Oh shit,” you squeak, looking back at him with a devilish little grin.

“Mm, my girl did so well tonight,” Din says as he begins to slowly push himself into you once more. “So fucking proud of my beautiful fucking girl. My girl deserves everything she wants.”

You feel your body envelope him, and everything else fades away besides Din Djarin. The sensation of his voice and the words he’s saying paired with the feeling of fullness in your core nearly sends you over the edge. This is the closest you’ve ever been to having an orgasm from another person’s involvement, let alone just from penetration. Your free hand moves to play with yourself, hoping to coax climax on if you can.

Then Din starts to pump again, pulling back slowly and then slamming his hips into you at nearly full force. He purposely tortures you with every thrust, loving how much you squirm and quiver each time he gradually pulls out. He really is close, and knows he can’t go on much longer, but he intends to savor every second that he’s inside of you and the effect it has on your body. Your tight wetness is so inviting that he feels like he could move in and never leave.

“Your girl wants you to fuck her harder,” you eventually plea, voice dripping with need.

So Din gladly complies, grabbing both of your hips to steady himself as his movements become relentless. He goes for as long as he possibly can, until he’s dangerously teetering on the edge and has to rip himself from you at the last minute. It’s over so fast, orgasm rocking his body completely as he leans his helmeted head on the small of your back and empties himself onto the floor between your knees with several soft moans. He’ll be sure to clean that up later.

Once he catches his breath, he’s lifting himself from your back to sit on the floor. You slide from the chair, coming to sit on your blanket directly in front of him. Your hair is a mess and your face is flushed, and Din is so enamored with your appearance that he wishes he could kiss you. Truly kiss you.

“How’s my Mando doing?” You ask, leaning forward to kiss his messy tip and lick up some of the remnants. His body shakes violently, a strangled little noise escaping him.

“He’ll let you know when he can think clearly again,” Din eventually chuckles, adrenaline slowly beginning to ebb from him. “That was…”

“Good?” You offer, looking hopeful.

“Magnificent,” he counters, head moving as he looks you up and down. “Did you…?

You grin, “Did I enjoy it? Din, I don’t think there are words for how much I enjoyed that.”

Din wishes you could see his own grin. “I’m glad, Cyare. But I was asking if you finished.”

Then your face falters, souring for a moment before you force a smile back to your lips. Din’s heart drops as a certain awkwardness washes over you. “No, I didn’t. I was close at one point, but its okay. I’m probably not going to.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze, “I’ve been having sex since I was nineteen, and I’ve never been able to cum when I’m with someone. If I’m alone it happens like it’s nothing, but if I’m with another person it’s like I get close but that’s all that ever happens. A guy went down on me for a full hour once and I still couldn’t climax. I don’t know if it’s that my body just freezes up or I’ve never had a true connection with anyone or what.”

“Your body was hardly frozen,” Din remarks, mulling over this information. His own orgasm feels lessened knowing that you did not experience the same amount of pleasure from the encounter. “You deserve to feel good as well.”

You shake your head, “I do feel good. I don’t have to finish to have good sex with you. And please know, that was very good sex.”

Din’s not taking no for an answer, he’s determined to make this right. “Is there anything more I can do?”

“Unfortunately not with the helmet on,” you say, squeezing his hand. “But it’s not important. I’ve already written that off.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, but then once he really thinks about it the realization dawns on him. You’re suggesting he preform oral on you. Something he’s only aware of, certainly nothing he’s ever had a chance to try. Xi’an used to beg him to do that for her, but being true to the creed he’s never had sex without his helmet. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so out of respect for you lets not even go there. We should just stop talking about it all together. It’s off the table.” You wave him off as if you really are unconcerned, but Din can see the smallest glimmer of disappointment in your eyes and he simply cannot let this stand.

There’s got to be something he can do instead. He looks around the cockpit as if anything in this room could aid him, and then his eyes land on the pinkish-purple scarf that was given to you on Nevarro. You had recently tied it around the headrest of your seat and declared that you were decorating your space, but now Din thinks of a better purpose the piece of fabric could serve. He refers back to the dream about you that he had right after Nar Shaddaa, and a part of him wonders if this idea is actually taking things too far. Then he looks over your naked body and he suddenly doesn’t care.

It very well could be taking things too far, but that doesn’t seem to matter as Din feels himself moving towards it before the rest of his mind can catch up. He yanks at the fabric until it loosens away from the seat, and then he moves to sit in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, eyeing the scarf skeptically.

“Do you trust me?” Din asks, ignoring your question. You nod, so he continues, “I will not let this happen lightly. If we do this, I need you to vow to me that you will continue to uphold your respect for my way of life.”

“I promise,” you whisper, eyes widening.

Din folds the fabric in fourths longways, holding one end in each hand. His face is completely serious below the beskar. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so this might not even work. But I do not wish to see you disappointed, and I would very much like to know what you taste like.”

You seem to react to this, face melting into the same one that was full of lust just a few moments ago. “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”

“I am,” he nods, “Turn around and face that way.”

You comply, moving your body to face in the opposite direction. Din lifts the fabric of the scarf above your head and comes to a stop right in front of your face. You nod once, so Din gently places the fabric over your eyes and ties it tightly behind your head.

“Too tight?”

“No it feels fine.”

“Can you see anything?”

“Not at all, its totally dark under this thing.”

When you eventually hear the hiss of his modulator and the sound of metal clunking to the ground, a thrill runs through your body. Gooseflesh prickles all the way up your arms and legs, up your spine, and comes to rest at the back of your head. The tingling sensation you feel all over is maddening, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Are you okay, Cyare?” His voice sounds completely the same while also sounding so different. Without the speakers of the modulator, it sounds more human. More tangible.

“Whoa, your voice sounds different. I… did you really take it off, Din?” Blanketed in darkness, you’re not sure if what you’re hearing is real.

“I did,” his voice is suddenly in front of you, much closer than it was a moment ago.

Then you feel hands in your hair, and something fleshy brushes up against your nose. “Is that…?”

One of the hands in your hair moves to grab hold of one of yours, gently lifting your fingers upwards until they come in contact with skin.

“My nose,” Din says, trailing your fingers over more skin and you giggle at the feeling of prickly facial hair. Then you’re touching what feels like lips, and this is only confirmed for you when they part slightly and you can feel the heat of his breath. He kisses your fingertips, “My lips.”

“My lips wouldn’t mind getting to know yours a little,” you say with a small laugh, gasping at the end of your sentence when he cups your face and pulls it forward slightly.

“I have not done this since I took the oath,” he says, sounding almost awkward and unsure of himself.

You smile, “I don’t have any expectations, Din. I just want you to be yourself.”

Then your lips are captured in his and suddenly the reality of what is going on really kicks in. Din has taken his helmet off, you are blindfolded to be kept from seeing his face, and he is kissing you. Something that you assumed would never happen, and had come to terms with long before anyone admitted their feelings for the other.

Just as it had been when you were having sex, the movements are feverish and all over the place but soon enough the two of you find rhythm with one another again. Your tongue snakes out from behind your teeth, slowly entering his warm mouth as his own tongue runs over yours in exploration. You think idly that he tastes of caf and something else you can’t place. He moans against you, so you take it that he enjoys your advances. Cradling his face in either hand, you push yourself forward to really get leverage in the kiss. The facial hair feels so nice against your hands, his mustache tickling your nose.

Then he pulls away, a hand to your chest as he gently coaxes you to lay down. You whine a little, openly pouting. Din growls, and the hand on your chest increases pressure.

“I want my mesh’la girl to feel good,” he declares, and you finally give in to the hand pushing you down onto your back.

His lips travel down your neck, pecking every few inches until he makes his way to your breasts. Licking at one of your nipples, he then takes it into his mouth as he nibbles lightly. It sends you into a tizzy until he pulls away.

“Kissing you felt really good,” you finally counter, grinning in his general direction as you lay there. “I was ready to go on for the rest of my life not knowing what that feels like and now you’ve spoiled me and I don’t think I can live without it.”

A hand moves your left leg outward. “Let me spoil you even more, Cyare.” Then another hand moves your right leg, spreading you open. Nothing happens for a moment, until you hear the distant sound of Din inhaling deeply through his nose. “Delicious,” he breathes, referring to the scent of you.

His movements are hesitant at first and when you feel the warmth of his wet tongue for the first time you jump a little, flinching away with a sharp noise when his facial hair tickles the sensitive flesh between your legs. Before he can stop and ask if you’re okay, you assure him that you’re fine and urge him to keep going. You have to consciously keep your legs spread, fighting the instinct to clamp your thighs around his unsuspecting head as he tentatively runs his tongue from the base of your entrance all the way up to the clit. Din repeats this motion several times, before showing complete attention to the swollen nub. You can tell that he’s not sure of himself, that he’s truly never done this before, so you decide to coach him a little bit.

“Mm, oh fuck,” you croak out between moans, “when you swirled your tongue there it felt so-oh god-so fucking good. Try to focus your attention there as much as possible.”

Din carries on with the same strokes of the tongue, and then suddenly you feel a finger pressing against your entrance. It traces the slick opening a few times before sliding in completely, causing you to cry out Din’s name in a feral voice. Then a second finger enters you, then a third, and your eyes roll back behind the blindfold as he beings to pump. Your sense of how long this is going on is completely gone, having no idea how much time is passing. All you know is the pleasure your body is feeling, totally unmeasured by time. Blindfolded and filled up with the Mandalorian’s fingers while his tongue swirls over your clit, you can feel the familiar building sensation that always comes before an orgasm. Arguably, the crescendo of nerves firing up is more pleasurable to you than an orgasm itself and this one builds for a long moment of agonizing intensity.

Legs trembling, suddenly your hands are tangled in Din’s hair as you yank harder than you mean to. “Oh, oh shit. Please don’t stop I think it’s actually happening.”

Then the crescendo tips over, and you’re riding out the waves of orgasm with bucking hips and whining moans. Din laps at you a few more times, your body jerking with each stroke, and you beg him to let up as your sensitivity is temporarily maxed out.

You just lay there, quivering in the aftermath, and Din crawls up to your head. When his lips touch yours again everything feels swollen and slick and wet, especially his mustache. You can taste yourself on him and it causes you to pose the question, “So how do I taste?”, once he breaks apart from you again.

“Delectable, Cyar’ika.”

“Thank you, Din. I am beyond grateful,” you choke, the sudden need to cry washing over you as a small sob escapes your mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes as he scoops you into his arms.

Grasping at him, your hands snake up into his lovely soft hair as your body comes down from the adrenaline rush of sexual release. “I really thought that would never happen, and then you manage to make me cum on the first try with zero experience. What are the odds?”

His unmodulated, gorgeous voice is whispering lowly in your ear, “I perform best when the odds are against me.”

“Wow, such a humble Mandalorian.” Chuckling, you turn your head and catch his earlobe between your teeth.

He makes a little noise as you nibble his ear, body shuddering. “Perhaps you were on to something when you said you’ve never had a true connection with someone. I know that this, how close I feel to you, is more tangible than any connection I’ve made since my parents died. It means quite a bit to me.”

You pull away from his ear to face him, in spite of not being able to see. “You’re not wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this close to anther person, Din. I’m glad that black hole spit me out where it did.”

“Mm,” he hums, and you feel the vibration of it, “as am I.”

You rub your cheek against his, adoring the feeling of skin and hair against your flesh as well as the scent of your sex on him. Even if you truly never get to see what this man looks like, feeling him is more than enough for you and you know it in your bones. “Thank you for trusting me. I know that the decision to remove your helmet did not come lightly.”

“Thank you for honoring your promise.”

The two of you lay there for a moment, peppering each other’s faces with kisses. You kiss his forehead, accidentally bumping into one of his eyes at first. He chuckles, and the sound of his unmodulated laugh melts your heart.

“Din?”

“Yes?”

Fingers playing with his hair, you smile a little at him. If only you could see his facial expression. Then an idea strikes you, so you move to his lips again and feel what you assume is him smiling against your fingertips. “What does ‘cyare’ mean? You called me your ‘cyare’ several times. And I don’t think I’m going to pronounce this right but you also said something like ‘kah-tay-leer darasoom’? We haven’t gone over those phrases in Mando’a yet so I had no idea what you were saying. I remember you said something similar to the kid recently.”

Din doesn’t respond right away, instead he kisses you deeply while holding your blindfolded face in both hands. After a moment he pulls apart from you, and you can sense that he’s hovering an only an inch or so from your face as you feel his warm breath on your skin. The pad of his thumb traces your lips.

“Cyare means beloved,” you feel his fingers move some of the hair from your forehead, “and what I told you was ‘ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.’ Kar’taylir means to know, to hold in the heart. Adding ‘darasuum’, eternity, changes it’s meaning to ‘I will know you forever.’ Essentially it is our phrase for expressing love. As I said before, this connection means something to me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the realization of his confession hitting you so hard that anther of your soft sobs echos through the cockpit. It’s not lost on you that you can feel fresh, warm wetness on his own stubbled cheeks. Tears, you’re feeling Din’s tears. He just told you that he loves you and he’s weeping. You almost can’t wrap your head around it.

“Din,” you are so overwhelmed with emotion, feeling your own tears form as they soak into the blindfold. The part of you that is afraid to give yourself over to him, afraid of the risk involved in giving your heart to another, wants to stop you from expressing how you feel. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers.

Cara’s advice echos through your mind, This life is too short not to get what you want out of it. You consider this for only but a moment, deciding that she was right and you cannot let yourself miss out on this. Yet something still feels off, and then it occurs to you, “Saying I love you just doesn’t feel right, like it means less to just say it in basic knowing there’s a beautiful way to say it in Mando’a. Say it slowly so I can hear the pronunciation.”

You feel Din hover just above your navel, placing a kiss to the flesh just below your breasts. “Ni,” his lips move between the soft peaks, “kar’tayl,” they migrate to your throat, “gar,” then he’s kissing you on the mouth again, “darasuum.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Din Djarin,” you whisper, lips spreading into the widest grin.

His face nuzzles into yours some more, sighing heavily before the sound morphs into a low chuckle. “I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted.”

“I wish we could sleep together like we did on Nevarro,” you say as you nuzzle him back. The smile on your face would have to be jackhammered off at this point, your heart is just too full of glee to for it leave anytime soon.

“Let’s try to sleep in the cot together,” he suggests, “I can’t be apart from you. Not right now.”

“Is the kid in his hammock?”

“Yes. It’ll be a tight fit but I think we can make it work.”

“It wouldn’t be the first tight fit we’ve had to deal with tonight,” you can’t help but joke, chuckling.

Din laughs, kissing you once more. This kiss is not deep, there are no tongues and the pacing is not feverish. His lips simply linger on yours for a long, loving moment.

“I need to put it back on, Cyar’ika,” he eventually says as he breaks apart.

Your chest aches a little, but you lift up to brush your nose against his once more. “Thank you for sharing this part of you with me. Will this be the only time I’ll ever get to feel you like this?”

“No,” he breathes, tone confident, “this will not be the only time.”

“Well until next time, then,” you say, pecking at him once more.

You feel him move away, and then after a moment his voice is once again being filtered through the modulator of his helmet. “It’s on, you can remove the blindfold.”

The cockpit had been dimly lit to begin with but everything seems incredibly bright as you slowly peel the damp fabric from your face and the visual world comes back to you.

Din is seated in front of you, once again wearing his helmet. You stare at him for a long moment, and suddenly none of what just happened feels real to you.

“Holy fucking hell,” you exclaim, giddy giggles bubbling up your throat. You long to cry out in elation, like when you used to go driving alone and joyfully scream in the sanctity of your car if you were in a great mood.

“You okay?” Din asks.

You nod, “more than okay.”

Din watches you re-dress, the two of you looking at each other as you pull the shirt over your head and hike the stretchy pants back up your legs. He’s sorry to see your body disappear behind the fabric, but sleep is starting to sound nicer than anything else. When you’re finished, you stand next to him with a hand outstretched. Din takes it, allowing you to help him up off the floor. He scoops up the blanket and hands it over to you, checking that everything with the ship is in order before motioning for you to start heading downstairs. He quickly cleans up the mess he’d made under the pilot seat and then comes to join you. As Din descends the ladder, he sees you standing there waiting for him with the blanket draped over your shoulders and a sleepy smile on your soft features.

“You’re a vision,” Din remarks as his feet touch the ground.

“Mm,” you hum, smiling at him. That lovely, kind smile that first caught his attention all those months ago on Nevarro. Maker, how far things have come. He’d been so annoyed when Karga coerced him into hiring you on as the nanny, and now he can’t imagine what his life would look like if he hadn’t.

“Let’s sleep, Cyar’ika.” Din says, tapping his forehead to yours.

“How’s this supposed to work?” You raise an eyebrow at him, grin cheeky.

Din peers into the thin sleeping cabin, noticing that the kid is still sleeping away in his little hammock above the bed. Jupiter has somehow managed to squeeze her way onto the thing with him, and the kid is using her as a sort of pillow. Admittedly, the scene is quite endearing.

“We lay on our sides,” Din shrugs, “you go in first and I’ll climb in after.”

“If you say so, Chrome Dome.” Chuckling, you crawl into the cot, laying on your side up against the right wall to give him enough space to enter.

Din kicks off his boots, bending forward to craw in with you. It’s certainly going to be a tight fit, but he thinks this may actually work nicely. He pulls himself all the way in, the door sliding shut once he’s inside. His body is already pressed to yours, so he carefully shifts around until he’s spooning up to your backside. One arm is tucked under his helmeted head, while the other is draped over you. You pull his hand into yours, tangling your fingers with his.

“Goodnight, Din,” you whisper in the darkness.

“Jate ca,” he whispers your name, “rest well.”

When Din awakes several hours later, his heart is so incredibly full that he’s not sure he could jam any more affection into it if he tried. You’re still out cold, but the kid has since migrated from his hammock to laying between you and the wall. One of your arms is curled around the foundling tightly, a content smile on your slightly parted lips. Jupiter has also relocated, as Din can feel her purring against the back of his helmeted head.

He should get up and start his day, but he instead closes his eyes once more and allows himself to feel happy for a long while.

*****

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