My name is LaTissa (pronounced like Melissa). 40 years old. Tennessee girl. Single. My loves include my fur baby, 70s/80s/90s music, Murder/Crime Shows, WWE, Joker, watching films, writing fanfiction. Pedro Pascal Fangirl.
Summary: Four weeks have passed since Frankie came back to your place and made love to you for the first time after you both confessed your true love for one another, becoming more than friends. Afterwards he was called out for a mission to Colombia which was supposed to have only lasted a few days. You haven't heard from him in hours on the day he's scheduled to come home and you begin to think he's not returning. He introduces you to some interesting bedroom escapades you have never before experienced, and unveils some of his own personal kinks he'd been hiding for years. He has also brought you a rather unorthodox gift...with an unusual proposition...
Word Count: 5800+
Warnings/Ratings: M-Explicit! SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Nothing But smut!! Hooooooooo boy. I went out of control on this one. There are full descriptions of PIV Sex, unprotected sex (although I do strongly suggest wrapping it up), multiple orgasms, vaginal/anal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), shower sex, sex against the wall, doggy style sex, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex (nothing too intense), kissing, touching, masturbation, dom/sub dynamic, dirty talk, vulgarity, profanity, TONS of F-bombs with which I may have gone overboard, several mentions of cock, pussy, ass. Mentions of possible past trauma. There are sprinkles of sweetness, worry, love, doing anything for the person with whom you're in love. Characters call each other "Baby" and "My Love" many times throughout.
Author's Notes: OH MY GOD. YALL. I have done a VERY bad thing. I should be ashamed. This is the dirtiest, sleaziest, horniest, smuttiest, filthiest thing I have ever written in my entire life. This makes Chapter 2 look very tame. Frankie is a very naughty, filthy boy in this. He hasn't seen his girl in weeks so he is feeling rather.....*ahem*....anxious. I can't believe I wrote this. I basically didn't hold back & let it all out & poured my heart and soul into it. This took me three months to finish because I kept doubting it would be any good. I kept getting in my feels; not only from the content itself but from being unable to convince myself I was any good at writing. I didn't think I ever would get it completed & almost gave up but I knew that wasn't an option. I really enjoyed writing this once I got in the groove & stopped overthinking everything. I want to thank all my wonderful friends for their encouragement & to all the incredibly talented writers out there whose material I turned to for inspiration and motivation. Y'all are amazing! I hope you enjoy this and hope it makes you feel the things you want to feel. Happy reading! Thank you for all your support!
Side Note: there's an unexpected twist! Not gonna say where but it's in there!
Below are the links for Chapters 1 & 2! Enjoy!
Words Get In The Way
A Frankie Morales x Reader Fic
Pairing:. Francisco "Frankie" Morales x Female Reader
Summary: You and Frankie Morale
Words Get in the Way
A Frankie Morales x F!Reader Fic
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader
Summary: You and Frankie have been friend
Stay tuned for Chapter 4!
Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! I appreciate you so much!
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Thank you to my besties @popcornforone @salgal78 @princessjenn420 and @fatimaisabelpascal for all your love, advice and encouragement to keep me writing and going forward with my ideas! I wouldn't have finished this chapter without you guys' precious support! I love you so much! @harriedandharassed @sherala007 you asked to be tagged in chapter 3 so here you go! Please enjoy!
(Reader's POV)
You stood in the shower letting the steaming water flow carelessly over you, resisting the impulse to have an emotional breakdown. There'd been no contact from Frankie since he last texted you saying his plane landed, his luggage was located, and he was on his way. That was four hours ago. You called him repeatedly; straight to voicemail each time. No replies to your frequent "where are you?" "are you okay?" texts to him. You even contacted Pope, Redfly, Ironhead, and Benny asking about his whereabouts. No one had heard from him since deboarding the plane and going their separate ways. Panic began settling in. Sinister thoughts crowded your mind:
He isn't returning to you. He has changed his mind. He has taken Erica back or found someone else. He made love to you, gave you what you wanted, and now he has nothing to do with you.
You shook your head, silently telling yourself not to think that way. Frankie would never treat you in such a manner. He is not that person. He has always been there for you. He meant every word he said when he told you he loves you.
You still wondered where the hell he was, and why he wasn't replying to you. Maybe he stopped to get a bite to eat and left his phone in the car. Maybe he decided to go to his place first for a nap and forgot to set an alarm. Convincing yourself these were plausible reasons for his absence helped you push the negative thoughts aside. You continued scrubbing the sweat and grime off your body accumulated from cooking dinner and cleaning your apartment all day, preparing for Frankie's arrival. You haven't seen him in four weeks and you needed to get a shower in before he showed up.
(Frankie's POV)
Frankie arrived at your apartment fifteen minutes after your shower started. He let himself in, setting his black duffel bag on the sofa. Your apartment smelled like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, his favorite. A full two dozen waited for him on the stove. Sitting on the counter was a crockpot full of boiling homemade stew. The rumbling hunger in his stomach intensified. He hadn't eaten much all day, only the unsatisfactory meals on the plane. He couldn't wait to get to your place knowing you'd have something fantastic prepared for him.
"I'm here, Baby. Where's my girl?" You were nowhere to be found. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. He could hear music coming from the bathroom down the hall, hear the faint roar of the shower running, see steam clouds seeping through the barely cracked-open door, smell your floral body wash. He pushed it open wider, peeking inside.
"Baby, it's me." No reply. You were too busy singing along to your favorite tune to hear him. He stiffened against his jeans when he heard your angelic voice; saw your nude silhouette behind the glass door. The idea of surprising you and making you scream the way he did on the sofa a few weeks ago popped into his mind. His brain constantly replayed the events of that night. He loved the sounds he was able to coax out of you as he fucked you for the first time after years of longing. Loved how his name rolled off your tongue, how your nails felt digging into his skin, how your worlds collided when you confessed your true feelings for each other. He could still feel you clenching around him as he made you cum. God, he wanted-no, needed more of this. He needed you.
Knowing how much you disliked having your personal space invaded made him change his mind about joining you. He closed the door and made his way back to the living room, making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a few cookies, consuming them in seconds. He made himself comfortable in the recliner, closed his eyes, pulled his cap down, hands resting on his belly, fingers interlocked. His body felt limp with exhaustion, in great need of rest. He was beyond relieved to be back in the States. This extra-long trip to Colombia had been a nightmare. The mission was only scheduled to have lasted three days. Plans went astray in every possible way: flights were delayed, vehicles broke down, the group received inadequate pay (even after being promised a much larger sum; the main reason the job was taken), desperate measures were executed by the guys during an ambush.
Your soothing singing, the only noise filling the entire dwelling, urged him to fall asleep. Images of what you looked like in the shower appeared behind his eyelids; the soapy water trailing down your body, over your breasts and erect nipples, down your stomach, between your thighs as you glided your favorite loofah over your skin. Your soft, delicate hands massaging their way through your hair. You pleasuring yourself with the hand-held shower nozzle while thinking of him....his name on your lips...begging to be fucked....
He began sleepily palming himself through his pants. He wondered how much time you had left in the shower. You were notorious for making them last longer than necessary. He opened his belt and zipper and wrapped a hand around his already-hard cock, flicking his index finger over his leaking tip, giving himself a couple of languid strokes, almost in a deep sleep. The more he pictured you being wet, naked, and vulnerable, the faster his strokes became. He was on the verge of climaxing when his eyes shot open, coming to a realization.
Wait a minute. Why the fuck am I doing this? There is someone who can take care of your needs...and she's only a few feet away…
He climbed out of the recliner and made his way to the bathroom. Fuck it. He was going to join you whether you liked it or not.
(Reader's POV)
You were rinsing the shampoo out of your hair when you thought you felt an unusual cool breeze behind you. You shrugged it off, knowing the shower door had a tendency to slide open a little on its own. The feel of large, familiar masculine hands on your shoulders startled you; soft fingertips pushing your hair aside allowing luscious lips to kiss the back of your neck. You turned around and saw Frankie standing in the shower with you, his lips slightly parted, a few water droplets mapping his bare chest. His cock big and swollen, in need of attention.
"Hi, Baby." He grinned. "Stop ogling me. I need to kiss you now."
You didn't realize your head was cocked to one side, and you were smiling. "I'm not ogling you, My Love. I'd call it...admiring the craftsmanship."
He snorted, running both hands through his misty hair. "Craftsmanship, huh? Since you put it that way, I'll let you look a little longer."
You took a moment to admire him, your eyes slowly following his physique from head to toe. Damn, what a sight he is. His lean, virile 5'11" frame was held up by strong legs, long torso, wide shoulders, and most glorious neck. His hair is just past regulation length, unruly strands tickling his eyes. The subtle thickness of his waistline and uneven beard - perfect imperfections - making your heart swell with even more love for him. He's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. The kind of man you want to touch constantly but are afraid to do so; he's such an immaculate, delicate work of art.
You noticed he had a fresh, deep six-inch long scar on his left pectoral near his collarbone. You stepped closer to him, placing your fingertips next to the scar.
"Frankie! What is this?!" You tried to conceal the worry in your voice. "Did this happen on the mission? What happened?"
A plethora of scars decorated his chest, abdomen, arms, even on his hands. Cuts, scratches, and bruises of various shapes and sizes. This particular wound, however, looked recently inflicted, like it came from a blade.
"Don't worry about it" was his sharp response. He put his hands up in front of him. "Trust me, it's nothing major. A little mishap is all it is."
"Is every scar you have a mishap? Are they from.....her? What are you not telling me?"
You knew mentioning Erica would strike a nerve in him. You weren't intending to be crude; only genuinely concerned about what he'd been through, who or what had hurt him. He had mentioned nothing to you about being injured. There was evident pain behind his eyes.
He tensed up. Jaw clenched. Hands on hips. He licked his lips and swallowed hard.
"Baby, please. Don't. Now is not the time."
You put your hands on his face pushing his long bangs away from his eyes. His cheeks were red hot; it wasn't from the water temperature. "It's not my objective to trigger you, My Love. I'm just cur-"
"-I said drop it." His voice had become low and minatory. "I never discuss my scars with anyone, including you."
His words stung a little. You hung your head, your eyes now giving the floor attention. This is the man you love, your best friend. You want to know everything about him. Want him to feel comfortable pouring his heart out to you and tell you all his deepest, darkest secrets without judgment. As long as you've known him you knew he was never one to discuss feelings. You hoped being in an actual relationship with him would make him feel like an open book.
Frankie put a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze back to him. "I'm sorry, Baby. I didn't mean to snap at you." His voice returned its softness. "Believe me, I want to tell you about my scars as much as you want to know about them. I will. I promise. The time will come."
You nodded and smiled. "Yes, My Love. Understood."
"Please can I kiss you now?" His eyes bolted from your eyes to your lips. "Those lips are looking awfully lonely."
You laughed. "You don't have to ask."
Frankie gently pushed you up against the shower wall, enveloping your mouth in a passionate, desirous kiss. His hands were on your breasts, thumbs flicking across your nipples, fingers massaging the soft flesh. You both were now directly under the shower head, the warm water cascading down your faces, mixing with your lips and tongues. Ripples flooded your body when you felt his hard tip pressed against you, making you yearn for him even more.
"I missed you", he said between kisses. "I know I should've been here earlier. Fuckin' truck wouldn't start after I finally located it in the parking lot. Took me an hour to find someone to give me a boost."
You ran your hands through his hair. "I missed you too, My Love. I tried calling you several times. Every time you didn't answer I kept thinking something terrible happened to you."
His face was now in your neck. "I'm sorry, Baby. Besides my truck issues, I lost my damn charger at the airport. Couldn't find a replacement. Then the fuckin' phone died as soon as I hit the interstate." The irritation in his voice was apparent.
"My goodness, Love. Sounds like you've had a hell of a day. Let me give you what you need." You lifted one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist, moving your body closer to his trying to maneuver him inside of you. He pushed your leg down, laughing. "Needy little thing aren't you! But not yet, Baby. There's something else I'd like to do to you first."
You looked up at him, pouting and whimpering. He smirked, waving his index finger in front of your face and shaking his head. "No, none of that. We need to establish some rules. You must be a good girl, or you'll get nothing."
You raised an eyebrow. A faint, imperceptible smile overtook your lips. "Ooooh, rules, Frankie? To make sure I'm a good girl for you? I thought you liked my neediness."
His smirk grew wider. "Of course I do, Baby. But patience is a must. Good, obedient girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished."
You shot him a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Punished? How? Frankie, what the hell are you talking about?"
He winked at you. "No time for explanations now. You'll find out later."
Before you could ask any more questions he dropped to his knees, pressing his hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing them further apart. His face was now inches from your pussy. You gasped when you realized what he had in mind.
"No! Not that!" You tried to push his head away. He looked up at you, brow furrowed. "No? Why not? If memory serves me correctly, didn't you say last time I was here you wanted us to do everything?" His expression relaxed, eyes full of concern. "Or...wait- is this not something you like?"
You turned away from his gaze, blushing. "I...actually- no one has ever performed it on me."
You felt ashamed for admitting to someone who sets your soul alight as much as Frankie does that you'd never had a man taste you.
He grinned, the darkness of his eyes deepening. "Is that so? Hmmm...." He rubbed his chin, one hand still on the inside of your thigh. "You know what I think? I think that's because you've never had a real man, Baby. All the guys you've dated are pussies. Pussies who don't eat pussy."
You giggled. He's such a smartass. But he wasn't wrong. None of your past relationships ever cared about pleasing you. It was always about what they wanted: pounding into you uncomfortably, flopping on top of you like a fish, climaxing within minutes and leaving you unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Frankie Morales was the complete opposite. He made you feel like your needs, your satisfaction, was more important than his own; as if his main goal was to take care of you. He was patient. He made you feel wanted.
"I've been thinkin' about this sweet pussy all day. Gotta taste it. Please, Baby, can I?" Rivers of shower water snaked their way down his face flattening his thick locks. His eyes still connected with yours.
Those damn puppy dog eyes.
He was quite aware of your inability to resist them; they made you absolutely weak. You nodded anxiously, realizing how foolish it was to deny him anything. Especially anything sexual. "Yes", you breathed. "Yes, My Love, please!"
Frankie spread your folds with two fingers, licking his lips. God, you were glistening. "Fuckin' look at that, would you. So prompt and prepared. So wet for me. Exactly how I like my girl to be." He circled his tongue around your clit -just once- before licking the inside of your folds, furiously lapping up your trickling arousal. Two fingers from his other hand pushed inside of you, curling, bending. You threw your hands into his hair letting out a long, plaintive whine.
"Fuckin' delicious," he breathed, not looking up. He took his fingers out, put them in his mouth, and inserted them back inside you. He moved them in and out while endlessly flicking his tongue across your clit, making you whine louder. He took his fingers out once more, but instead of putting them in his mouth, he put them in yours.
"Taste it," he demanded, moving them around the circumference of your mouth, now looking up at you. "Taste how sweet you are."
You followed orders, both hands gripping his forearm and wrist, wrapping your lips around his fingers. You swirled your tongue around the digits, bobbing your head up and down as if you were fellating him, all the while the two of you keeping eye contact.
"Fuck that's sexy." He took his fingers out of your mouth, put them in his own, savoring the taste briefly, and put them back in yours, instructing you to keep sucking. He turned his attention back to your pussy. You moaned and closed your eyes, feeling his tongue inside you moving up and down quickly. You sucked on his fingers harder; your hands gripping his wrist and forearm so tightly your knuckles were turning white. The feel of his tongue deep inside your hole, while he rubbed your clit with his other hand, made you nearly lose consciousness from the pleasure. So many things were happening to you at once; all your senses and emotions at play. You couldn't tell if the sounds you were hearing were yours or his. No coherent thought could be produced.
"Come on, Baby, show me," he said, swiping his tongue through your folds. "Show me - swipe - what - swipe - this pussy - swipe - can do."
The movements of his fingers against your clit quickened; his glorious tongue exploring every nook and cranny, no inch left untasted. The fingers previously your mouth now driving into your pussy at such speed your legs shook. He took his index finger and thumb and pinched your overstimulated clit, wrapping and sucking his lips around the sensitive bud.
"Frankie! What are you doing to me! Oh my God!"
Your body jolted as you felt a massive outpouring of your juices, reaching the pinnacle of desire. A loud wail trailed out of your throat; the pleasure hitting you like a freight train. You held your hands up near your face, shaking, trembling, looking down at the frenzy between your legs.
"Good girl! Best pussy I've ever tasted." He stood up, wiping your mess off his face - it was everywhere - with the back of his hand and licking it off. "That was fuckin' incredible. Gonna fuck you now. You earned it. Ready?"
You nodded, breathless, fighting for air after what you'd just experienced. "Pl-please. I'm always ready for you, My Love."
Your scenery changed in a flash. Frankie flipped you around to where you were now facing the shower wall; your stomach and chest pressed against the cold, wet tile. He stood behind you, his hands on your hips, his cock nudging your entrance.
"Put your palms against the wall, Baby. Stick your ass out. Spread those legs for me."
You followed instructions. He kept one hand on your hip, the other gripping your shoulder as he thrust into your drenched pussy with a low, rough grunt. He began pounding into you without giving you a chance to adjust to his length, knocking even more air out of your lungs.
"Fuck yes, Baby. This is how I always wanted to fuck you. All those nights I stayed over and fucked my fist to the thought of you. This is what I imagined us doing."
All you could do was close your eyes and moan at what you were hearing. You knew he jerked off many times when he spent the night at your apartment. He is a man, after all. But never in a million years did you think it was you getting him off.
"Frankie...oh fuck..." His thrusts were endless. You reached behind you to touch him, eager to feel hot, wet skin and muscle beneath your fingers. He grabbed your hand and pressed it back in its place against the wall.
"No, no, Baby. Keep your hands where I can see them."
Your eyes shot open as one of his great hands came in contact with your ass with a loud, wet slap, causing your body to lurch forward.
That's gonna leave a mark.
"Oh, shit!" You glanced back at him over your shoulder, keeping your hands in place.
"Umm....Frankie? What...was...that?"
"You know what it was." He slapped your ass again, this time on the other cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip as the pain bloomed across your body. You didn't want to admit it but the stinging sensation felt spectacular; so much better than the playful slaps he gave you when you were just friends.
"Fuck yes! More, Frankie, more! Please!"
"Ah, so you do like having your beautiful ass spanked. Filthy girl." He obliged, slapping your ass harder than before; his thrusts never ceasing. He still gripped your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh. "Come on. Move, Baby, move," he demanded. "Don't make me do all the work."
You weren't exactly clear on what he meant at first, or what was bringing on this behavior. But you'd be damned if you denied you liked it. Your countless fantasies about him almost always involved him dominating you, spanking you, tying you up, making you beg for him, calling you dirty names, doing nasty, obscene, disgusting things to you, putting you in positions that would make even a contortionist shudder. In reality, your sweet Frankie would never be into such things. He would be downright embarrassed at what you wanted him to do to you.
Apparently, you were wrong.
You looked back at him, confused.
"I...I...don't...uh...what?"
Both hands moved to your sides and pulled you closer to him, making back and forth motions.
"Like this, Baby. Come on, don't be shy." His saccharine voice set your mind at ease. "Let me and help me take good care of you."
Realizing what he was asking you to do you rocked your body back into him, taking him fully all the way to the base; coarse, wet hairs tickling your ass. Frankie trailed his fingers up and down your spine; those large hands so soft it felt like he wasn't even touching you at all.
"Yeah, Baby. Just like that. Show me how I'm making you feel."
Your impassioned mewls and sighs increased as you moved back and forth faster, your ass crashing into his hips making him groan and pant. Even through the bellow of the falling water you could hear the inappropriate sounds of your wet bodies smacking against one another. You threw your head back, not caring that the tepid stream was hitting you directly in the face.
"Frankie...I've never done it this way...you feel...so...fucking...good."
His cock gliding against your walls, along with the fact he was doing things to you that you'd only dreamed about, had you gasping for the breath he had taken away from you.
"So do you, Baby. So goddamn tight. Jesus fuckin' Christ."
He coiled his hands through your hair giving it a gentle tug, looking down at the junction of your bodies. "God I missed this pussy. I never want to go this long without it again."
"Me too, My Love." You uttered a pleased hum. "God I love the way your cock feels inside of me. My pussy felt so empty without it."
He chuckled. "Tell me something, Baby. Do you always want to be fucked like this?"
Nodding was the only response you could give; words stolen by sobs and wails as he moved his hips against your ass faster.
"Did you mean it when you said you'd do anything for me?"
Nod.
"Were you being truthful in saying you'd always dreamed of belonging to me?"
Nod.
He slapped your ass once more, a hand still in your hair, making you shriek as he tugged harder.
"Words, Baby!" Slap. "Vocalize!" Slap. "I need to hear you say it!" Slap.
You were definitely going to have handprints on your ass later.
"Yes!" You wheezed. "My Love, Yes! I want to belong to you! Fucking own me!"
The way you moaned those last two words made him laugh. "You want me to own you, you say?"
"Yes!" you answered without hesitation. "In every sense of the word!"
His lips curled into a pleased smile. "Good girl. That's the answer I was expecting." He let go of your hair and spun you around to where you were now facing him.
"Hold on to me, Baby. It's okay, I got you." He placed his hands under your thighs and picked you up effortlessly, pinning you against the shower wall with his body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your ankles crossed, one arm flung around his neck, the other clutching his shoulder. Within seconds he was back inside you fucking you like his life depended on it, his vigorous thrusting forcing your body up and down, lifting, falling. His face deposited in your neck, licking, kissing, sucking every inch of skin between your neck and shoulder. You tilted your head back, eyes closed, mouth open, desperate cries filling your tiny bathroom. You're so full of him, his cock so deep inside you touching every nerve, every tendril, every fiber, every corner. The head of him pressing the switch within you that made you lose all modesty, all control.
"Oh, God, yes! Harder, My Love! Harder!" You were basically shouting the words. "Fuck me like you own me!"
He growled and hissed in your ear as the brutality of his thrusts intensified. His fingers and hands squeezing your skin so tightly you were certain you'd be left with marks, bruises, fingerprints. The pain, the pleasure; it was all equally too much and not enough. It was fucking magnificent; leaving your mind in shambles.
"Yes, Baby, yes!" he panted. I fuckin' love hearing you talk this way. So fuckin' dirty."
He was now looking at you, eyes hazy with pleasure, mouth open. "Gonna cum soon, Baby. Where do you want it? Inside?"
"Yes!" You cried, locking your eyes with his. "You don't need permission! Just fuckin' do it! Cum inside me, please!"
A smile spread across his lips, a satisfied twinkle gleaming in his eye. "You are so fuckin' perfect, Baby, I swear. Fuckin' made for me." He put an index finger in his mouth and, without warning, pushed it repeatedly inside your asshole -while still fucking you into oblivion.
"Frankie!" You practically screamed his name. "That's...oh fuck...what the fuck! That's too much! I can't-"
"-You can take it, Baby. I know you can. Show me. Don't hold back."
No way was he going to make you cum twice. That was impossible; only something you'd seen in movies and TV. Something that always suspends your disbelief, making you scoff and roll your eyes. But this? Imminent. You were going to have multiple orgasms in one night for the first time ever in your life. Then he stuck another finger inside your ass. And that was it; the shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, the needle bursting the tiny pleasure-filled bubble in your stomach, the surge of electricity pulsing through your veins. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck , fingertips kneading, clawing into the flesh of his back holding on for dear life.
Frankie gave one last forceful buck of his hips as he spilled into you, an orchestra of explicit noises and words coming from the both of you. You could feel the concoction of warm liquids between your thighs shooting up into you like fireworks. Your vision was now a swirling sea of unrecognizable colors. Your head collapsed on his shoulder, his chin on yours, chests heaving against each other's, breaths coming and going in quick intervals.
"I love you so much, Frankie" you finally managed to say after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "You make me feel things I had no idea I could feel."
You felt him smile against your neck. "I love you too, Baby. I always knew I'd be the one to broaden your horizons."
You embraced him tighter running your hands up and down his back. "I never wanted anyone like this. It's all brand new to me."
"Likewise, Baby." Frankie removed his hands from the back of your thighs and set you on your feet. You felt like a newborn fawn, legs wobbly, unable to keep your balance. You both laughed as you held on to his forearms for support until you could stand on your own. He shut the water off and opened the sliding glass door, stepping out onto the white feathery bath mat.
"Meet me in the living room after you're dressed," he said as he grabbed a towel off the bathroom door hook and gathered his clothes off the floor. "I have a surprise for you."
**************************
After changing into leggings and a spaghetti-strap shirt, you found Frankie sitting on the sofa, his phone in one hand, thumb swiping up and down in quick strokes, dark bottle of beer in the other taking long swigs, eyes never leaving the device screen. His jeans were zipped but unbuttoned, unfastened belt hanging loosely between his legs. His red T-shirt clung to his still-damp skin, portraying each sculpted muscular detail, his moist capless hair an unkempt mess, strands pointing in every direction. You stood at the end of the hallway watching him, leaning your shoulder against the wall, staring, struggling to process what had just taken place in your shower. You had difficulty wrapping your head around the fact that it actually happened; not in one of your fantasy scenarios. Frankie Morales, who you've wanted since the first day you laid eyes on him, was now your lover, your partner; your companion. The one who showed you pleasures you didn't know you wanted or needed. The one who unlocked your passion and freed your mind to explore the depths of your darkest sexual desires.
Your lover. That sounded so forbidden, so taboo.
Frankie looked up from his phone and gave you a smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "There's my girl. You disappeared from me. I didn't think you'd come back." He took another sip of beer and set the bottle on the coffee table. "Come on over here so I can give you your surprise."
You took the empty seat next to him. He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a small, flat purple gift box wrapped in pink ribbon and placed it in your hands.
"This is for you, Baby. Open it."
"You bought me a gift?"
He nodded, his eyes wide and full of anticipation, an anxious smile across his lips. "Of course. You're my girl. I need to spoil you."
Inside was a thin, black leather choker necklace adorned with numerous diamond-shaped crystals. A sterling silver heart pendant hung from a small chain on the facade, and it fastened like a belt in the back. You didn't wear much jewelry, earrings occasionally. He knew this, which made it a little unclear as to why this would be a gift choice. But you found it to be beautiful. Elegant. Racy.
After a few moments it hit you; the purpose of the gift. You were his. He owns you. You belong to him. He wants it to be shown.
"Frankie, it's lovely. But...I don't wear neck-."
"-You do now," he interrupted. "I want you to wear it as a symbol of my ownership of you. You want to be mine in every possible way? Wearing this necklace will seal that deal."
You stared at the piece of jewelry in your hands, trying to believe what you had just heard; your mind devoid of words.
He scooted closer to you, putting a hand under your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. "If you think it's excessive, Baby, you don't-"
"-Yes", you answered. "I'll wear it and I'll never take it off. Whatever it takes to make you happy, My Love, I'll do it." You took the accessory out of its box, ready to put it on. Frankie eagerly took it from your hands, his eyes lighting up. "Please, let me do it."
He leaned forward reaching across you to fasten the choker, his cheek brushing against yours, lips next to your ear. "You know what this means, don't you?" He whispered once the necklace was fully around your neck. A hand trailed down your body, between your legs, inside your panties. "This pussy-this body-is mine now." His fingers started rubbing at your clit, making you cry out. "I can do whatever I want with it. Clear?"
You nodded, eyes fluttering closed. "Fraaannnkkkiiiiieeee..."
"Remember those rules I mentioned earlier?" His lips were still against your ear. "About being a good girl and getting punished for being bad? You must follow them now that you're wearing this necklace. You must obey."
He slipped a finger inside you, moving the digit so rapidly you could hear the vulgar squelching noises, making you squirm. You grabbed his arm. "Frankie!" you moaned. "Yes! I'll do whatever you say, My Love! I'm all yours!"
He grinned, his eyes rich with contentment. His lips crashed into yours, tongue delving into your mouth. Your arms found their way around his neck, your legs moving onto the sofa so you could lie on your back outstretched. Frankie lowered himself onto you, positioning himself between your legs, still dressed, lips never leaving yours, still fingering you like it would be a crime if he stopped, making you hum and whimper. The other hand caressed your still-clothed thigh and leg.
"Gonna cum for me again, are you, Baby?" he asked against your lips. "Are you gonna squirt all over my-"
There was a knock at the door, making Frankie stop the delicious makeout session and look up in confusion. He looked down at you, also perplexed.
"Expecting company?"
You shook your head.
Another knock, this time much louder.
"Want me to see who it is?"
"No, I'll get it." You stood up and made your way to the door located right next to the sofa. You opened it, and the color drained out of your face. Your heart sank.
There she was. Fucking. Erica. Hands pressed on her hips, looking as perfectly put together as always. Black hair, flawless makeup, tight dress, menacing green eyes. The only difference from when you last saw her was now she looked like there had been way too much time spent in a tanning bed and too many collagen injections in her lips. She impatiently tapped her high-heeled foot on the outside concrete floor, her mouth sewn into an angry frown.
"Where is he?" Her voice was eerily stern, lacking emotion. "I know Francisco is here somewhere. Where the fuck is he?!"
You put your finger up. "First of all, Erica, hello to you too. Second, don't come at me with that attitude. Third, what makes you think he would be here?"
Erica rolled her eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh. "Because his fucking truck is parked out front, dumbass."
"Don't you fuckin' dare speak to her like that." Frankie growled as he walked up next to you, casually throwing his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. "You lookin' for me, Erica? Well, here I am. The hell do you want?"
Erica's eyes switched between you and Frankie, looking you both up and down, noticing your still wet locks, flushed cheeks, his shirt worn inside out and unbuttoned jeans. She shook her head, her eyes on the ground, sarcastic laughter seeping through her lips.
"Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. You two fucked, didn't you?"
Frankie cleared his throat. "You shouldn't ask questions to which you know the answers."
She cut her eyes to you. "I suppose you think he's your boyfriend now? That he loves you?"
"Erica, I'm not gonna ask you again." Frankie piped in before you could give her an answer. "Why. The. Fuck. Are. You. Here?"
His acerbic tone made you take a step an inch away but he still kept his arm on your shoulder. You looked at him while he kept his eyes on Erica. His brow furrowed, lips pursed, jaw tightened, veins in his neck made their appearance, heavy breathing commenced through his nose. His other hand formed into a fist.
Erica pointed a manicured accusatory finger at him. "You. You son-of-a-bitch. You and I need to talk."
Summary: When a mission goes a bit sideways, you suddenly find yourself stuck with Din in a hideout that allows little to no movement, leaving you in a precarious situation - between his legs.
Warnings: +18, MDNI, took the locked room trope to its farthest edge, oral (m receiving), praising, the helmet stays on, forced orgasm if you squint?
A/N: this is the result of a trope survey I did, Din Djarin & locked room came in second. If you are interested in the others just follow the link.
wc: 4.8k
My Pedro-Character-Masterlist
This was… a predicament, to put it mildly.
You crouched inside a storage cavity that clearly had not been designed with a human occupant in mind - certainly not two of them. The narrow compartment smelled faintly of machine oil and old dust, the metal walls pressing close on every side as if the space itself resented your presence.
One person would have been uncomfortable.
Two was a logistical nightmare.
Especially when one of those people insisted on wearing an entire arsenal of beskar plates that stole what little room existed.
Every minor adjustment from Din Djarin produced the faint scrape of metal against durasteel.
You clenched your jaw.
“Would you hold still?” you hissed under your breath, trying to shift your position for the tenth time and failing just as miserably as before.
The helmet tilted slightly toward you.
“Quiet,” he shot back immediately, voice low and edged with the same irritation while looking down.
Very much down.
Because while the two of you had been sprinting through corridors trying to shake the men chasing you, this tiny hiding place had appeared during a frantic scan of the hallway. Without pausing to debate the idea, Din had grabbed you by the arm and shoved you inside.
He followed a heartbeat later.
The security panel had slid shut with a quiet thunk.
Only then had the reality of the situation become clear.
The space was barely large enough for one adult standing upright. With both of you inside, it became an exercise in awkward geometry.
Din stood with his back pressed firmly against the sealed panel. One armored arm braced against the wall in front of him, creating a makeshift support so he wouldn’t lose his balance in the cramped quarters.
At least he was standing.
You, on the other hand…
You lifted your gaze slowly.
From the floor.
From where you were kneeling.
Directly between his legs.
“Oh, don’t you dare tell me to be quiet,” you muttered sharply, craning your neck to glare up at the visor. “You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”
Technically speaking, you were right.
Months of working together had built enough trust that when Din proposed the job, you hadn’t questioned it much.
An easy contract, he had said.
Quick entry. Quick exit. Minimal guards.
Simple.
Every single part of that description had turned out to be spectacularly wrong.
The artifact storage facility had recently made local news - something neither of you had learned about until far too late. Apparently publicity had inspired the owners to double their security.
What should have been a short operation had turned into a crawling nightmare.
Air vents.
Abandoned wastewater tunnels.
Forgotten maintenance corridors that hadn’t seen maintenance in decades.
The two of you had spent hours creeping through the guts of the building just to reach the prize.
Still, the effort hadn’t been wasted.
Your hand instinctively brushed your pocket.
Inside rested the object you’d come for: a Kyber Resonance Shard, a fractured piece of crystal rumored to hum faintly with residual energy when exposed to certain frequencies. Collectors paid absurd amounts for relics tied even distantly to the old Jedi traditions.
You had managed to lift it cleanly from its display.
Unfortunately, the display had also triggered a silent alarm.
Minutes later the corridors behind you had filled with guards.
Not just a few.
Dozens.
The careful stealth of the mission had evaporated instantly. Instead of sneaking out quietly, you had been forced to fight your way through the first wave and run before reinforcements sealed the building entirely.
That was when the plan changed.
Getting out immediately had become impossible.
But hiding?
Hiding might buy time.
Eventually the guards would assume you had escaped the facility entirely. Once the search widened outside, slipping away would be far easier.
At least, that had been the theory.
Which was how you ended up here.
Wedged inside a maintenance cavity barely wider than a locker.
Kneeling awkwardly on the floor.
Directly between the legs of a fully armored Mandalorian bounty hunter who filled most of the remaining space.
You tilted your head again to glare up at the dark visor hovering above you.
“Yes,” you muttered under your breath, “this was definitely your brilliant plan.”
“Maybe you should’ve listened when I told you the alarm might trigger,” Din Djarin muttered sharply above you, the words low and tight through the helmet’s modulator.
You snorted quietly.
“Helpful warning,” you whispered back. “Shame it arrived after I had already pocketed the shard.”
You shifted slightly on your heels, trying for the third time to relieve the pressure building in your legs. The cramped position forced your weight awkwardly onto your calves, and the metal floor beneath you was doing nothing to improve the situation.
Your muscles protested.
“Next time a meteor storm smashes into the Razor Crest,” you added dryly, “I’ll be sure to warn you afterward too.”
Din’s right foot nudged lightly against your leg.
You couldn’t tell whether the movement was meant as a quiet command to shut up - or simply an attempt for him to adjust his own balance in the ridiculous configuration the two of you had been forced into.
“If we get out of here,” you continued under your breath, shifting your weight again, “remind me to avoid any future jobs that involve stealing.”
The response came immediately.
“That from the master thief?” he said. Even without seeing his face, you could hear the faint crooked humor in his tone.
Months of working together had trained your ears well. You had learned to read the small inflections beneath the helmet’s mechanical filter. The subtle changes that meant he was smirking, even if the visor hid it completely.
You had seen that smirk before though.
More than once.
Because you have seen his face many times now.
The first time had been an accident - an unexpected glimpse of his face during a moment neither of you had planned.
The second had been necessity, when he’d taken a nasty hit and removing the helmet had been the only way to patch him up properly.
The third…
Well.
That had happened in the narrow bunk aboard the Razor Crest, sometime after both of you decided that surviving too many dangerous jobs together had earned you a more… relaxed way of blowing off steam.
Originally, the partnership had been strictly professional.
Lately, things had become a little more complicated.
“I wouldn’t mind switching back to bounty work,” you murmured, glancing up toward the dark visor. “You know I’m better at luring targets out than you are.”
A faint pause followed.
Then he replied quietly, “A little too good at it.” The final word slipped out in the soft cadence of Mando’a. “Mesh’la.”
Thankfully the darkness inside the cramped storage compartment hid the warmth that crept across your face.
You had never asked him exactly what the word meant.
Something affectionate, you suspected.
Something he said with an ease that made it feel… oddly intimate.
Even filtered through the helmet, the sound carried a certain weight.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Din,” you whispered, voice tilting playfully. “Is that why you picked this miserable job? So I wouldn’t be flirting with half the galaxy while we worked?”
Your hand lifted almost absentmindedly, sliding along the side of his leg. The motion was half reassuring, half teasing as your fingers traced lightly over the armored plating before settling there.
“Focus,” he said quietly. But the word lacked its usual bite.
“Not much focusing I can do down here,” you replied softly. “We’re stuck waiting. Let me keep my sarcasm - it helps pass the time.”
Outside the sealed panel, the facility remained silent for the moment. No footsteps. No voices.
Still, both of you kept your voices low.
Better safe than discovered.
“You could start thinking about buyers,” Din said after a moment. “Once word spreads that the artifact disappeared from a secure facility, the list of interested collectors will shrink fast.”
You shrugged lightly, the movement barely noticeable in the cramped space.
“Let that be my headache.” He knew you would handle it. You always did. “You,” you added, glancing up again, “just focus on choosing our next job with a little more care.” A faint smirk crept into your voice. “I don’t mind spending time alone in a room with you,” you murmured. “But this setup? Less appealing.”
Your gaze lifted.
The visor angled down toward you.
“Think so? I can’t say the view is terrible.” There it was again - that invisible grin you had come to recognize.
Your hand, still resting on his shin, slid a little higher along his thigh. Your fingers tightened briefly in a light squeeze.
“Careful,” you murmured. “You know I like pushing my luck.”
“Focus,” he repeated again, though the command sounded slightly rougher now. “We need to be ready to move the second an opening appears.”
His tone still carried its usual seriousness. But there was something else hiding beneath it. A quiet thread of tension.
“I can focus just fine,” you said softly. “I’m practically meditating down here. Feeling like a damn Jedi.”
You shifted again, trying to relieve the ache building in your legs.
As you moved, you rolled your neck slightly -
- and accidentally brushed your head against his crotch.
The reaction was immediate.
Din shifted abruptly, a quiet hum escaping him through the modulator as he instinctively pulled back where little to no space was left.
You blinked, then slowly looked up. A wicked grin spread across your face.
“Well now,” you murmured, lips parting slightly. “Don’t tell me…” Your voice dropped to a playful whisper. “Din Djarin,” you teased, “are you actually getting turned on by this?”
You didn’t wait for an answer.
Instead your hand moved higher along his thigh, slipping beneath the edge of the segmented armor until your fingers found the softer resistance of the flight suit beneath. The fabric was warm from his body heat, taut where it stretched across muscle. You let your palm settle there for a moment - just long enough to confirm what your instincts had already guessed.
And there it was.
A slow, unmistakable firmness growing beneath your touch.
Your mouth curved slightly.
Well. That answered that.
“Cyar’ika…” Din’s voice dropped into a low rumble, the word dragged through the helmet’s modulator like a warning trying very hard to sound stern.
Except the tone betrayed him.
Half caution. Half something else entirely.
“What?” you murmured softly, fingers tightening through the fabric in a deliberate squeeze that completely contradicted the innocence of your question. “Should I stop?”
His breath caught.
“This is not the place,” he said, words slightly uneven now, “and definitely not the time.”
A faint inhale followed, sharp enough that he nearly stumbled over the last part of the sentence.
“Seems to me we’ve got plenty of time to kill,” you whispered.
Your hand didn’t slow.
If anything, the motion became more deliberate - testing, exploring his length through the layers of fabric while your eyes stayed locked on the dark visor above you.
Whatever sharp retort had been forming died instantly when your curious squeeze shifted into a slow, teasing stroke.
Din’s helmet tipped back against the wall behind him with a muted klonk. The hand braced against the opposite surface tightened, his fingers curling slowly into a fist as if he needed the pressure to steady himself.
“You really shouldn’t…” he muttered.
But the growl beneath the words lacked conviction.
It sounded less like a warning directed at you and more like something he was trying to remind himself.
Meanwhile your hand had already found the seam of the flight suit.
You slipped beneath it.
The moment your fingers brushed bare skin, Din’s hips shifted instinctively against your touch. A quiet roll forward.
A reaction he clearly hadn’t intended.
“You keep watch,” you suggested lightly, your voice barely louder than a breath, “I’ll keep you entertained.”
Your fingers wrapped fully around his cock now.
The muffled sound that escaped the helmet in response sent a small thrill down your spine.
You had seen Din without the helmet before. You knew the expressions he tried so carefully to hide from the rest of the galaxy - the tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes darkened when you touched him just right.
But this?
This was different.
With the helmet still firmly in place, you couldn’t rely on facial cues at all.
Instead you found yourself reading the language of his body.
Every small shift of muscle.
Every subtle change in the way he held himself above you.
The signals were clearer than he probably realized.
And right now they were telling you that you were very much on the right track.
His length twitched faintly in your grasp.
Yes.
Definitely the right track.
“You’re being reckless,” Din whispered after a moment, his head tilting slightly as if he was still trying to listen for sounds in the hallway beyond the hidden compartment.
“This entire mission has been reckless,” you replied with a quiet smirk. “I’m just staying consistent.”
Your hand moved again.
With a practiced motion you eased him free from the remaining fabric, the flight suit sliding aside just enough to reveal his length completely.
Especially from your low position you couldn’t help the brief flicker of appreciation that crossed your mind as he stood towering above you.
Your legs had been aching moments ago from the cramped kneeling position.
Now the discomfort barely registered.
You shifted slightly, adjusting your posture so you were better aligned with his cock in front of your face. Your gaze traveled upward for a moment before settling again on the task at hand.
Almost unconsciously, you wet your lips.
Your hand gave him a few slow strokes, deliberate and unhurried.
“You should stop,” he hissed quietly.
You smiled faintly.
“I haven’t even started yet.”
Leaning forward, you pressed a soft, almost reverent kiss against the soft skin of his tip.
The thing was, you had never been particularly patient. The teasing kisses you had started with didn’t stay gentle for long. As you closed your lips around his tip you could feel a tension coiling through Din’s entire body and you could hear the change in his breathing.
The quiet restraint he usually carried with such discipline began to slip. A low sound escaped him - muted by the helmet but unmistakable.
Above you, his free hand found your hair. Just threading through the strands in slow strokes that felt almost absentminded, as if he was grounding himself in the sensation. The movement sent a clear enough signal on its own.
You were doing exactly what he wanted, that he did not want you to stop at all.
Encouraged, you took him in deeper, the tight space forcing you to adjust carefully as your tongue circled his soft skin. Din’s hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it as you leaned in further, the grip tightening just slightly as instinct took over.
For a moment the two of you went completely still.
The closeness of the compartment left almost no room for movement anyway. The faint hum of machinery somewhere inside the walls vibrated through the metal around you while you both adjusted to the new position.
Din’s breath hitched again.
“Mesh’la…” The word slipped out rougher this time, dragged low through the modulator as he looked down at you. The dark visor tilted slightly, studying you in the dim light filtering through the vent.
“You look… perfect like this.”
The praise landed like a spark and a shiver ran through you.
Your hand slid higher along his thigh to steady yourself while the other braced against the wall behind you. Slowly you began to move your head, careful in the cramped space, finding a rhythm that worked despite the awkward positioning.
You slowly started to move your head, taking him in just an inch more before rolling back, catching a breath. Spit glistened on your lips and his soft skin, even in the shady dark light of this makeshift hideout, the air inside the compartment growing thick and humid as the seconds stretched.
Your own pulse had begun to race now and heat coiled low in your stomach. You could feel the wetness between your legs growing although he did not even touch you fully.
It was almost frustrating to realize there would be no space for him to return the favor here - not with the two of you wedged together in a compartment barely big enough to breathe in. Not to speak of the lurking danger outside.
But you had no doubt, the moment you made it back to the Crest, he would remember exactly how to repay you. And different to now he would take his time with you.
For now though, the focus was entirely on him.
Din’s grip tightened slightly in your hair as you relaxed your jaw just a bit more, to take him up to the hilt. Before you could settle fully into your pace, he guided you forward with a firm pressure at the back of your head, pulling you closer with a sudden urgency that stole your breath for a moment.
“You take me so well,” he murmured. The words vibrated through the helmet’s modulator, sending another shiver down your spine. Your lungs protested briefly at the fullness, but your mind was far too focused on the effect you were having on him to care much about that.
Just before the pressure became too much he eased the hold, letting you pull back enough to breathe again.
You inhaled deeply before leaning in once more, eyes slipping closed as you focused on the rhythm he gave you. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit for balance as you let your tongue explore his full length, feeling every vein and twitch. He felt impossibly hard now and you longed for the moment back on the ship when he would bury himself in you, hips rolling in that infuriating slowness he always used to bring you closer and closer to the edge.
Above you, Din’s movements became less controlled now. The subtle tension running through his body and the twitching of his cock told you everything you needed to know.
“I’m almost there, cyar’ika,” he breathed quietly. Then his helmet tilted downward again. “Look at me.”
You obeyed immediately, lifting your gaze to the dark visor looming above you. Your jaw softened slightly, preparing yourself for the moment -
- but suddenly he froze.
Every muscle in his body went rigid.
A sound echoed faintly from the hallway beyond the hidden compartment.
Footsteps, distant enough but approaching.
The situation became instantly absurd.
You were kneeling in a cramped maintenance cavity, his cock buried deep in your throat, both of you frozen in complete silence while someone walked somewhere nearby beyond the sealed panel.
Din held himself perfectly still, his grip tightening in your hair in a silent command to stop. To wait.
You felt it.
You understood it.
You ignored it. Your tongue moved again in a teasing flick against his underside and his throb told you how he ached for the sweet release. A strangled hiss slipped through the modulator.
The footsteps grew slightly louder as they passed somewhere down the corridor.
Din’s fingers clenched in warning. Not yet pulling you away, but very clearly telling you to behave.
You didn’t.
Your hands slid around the backs of his thighs instead, gripping firmly just beneath the curve of his backside. Then you pulled him closer, deeper, stealing your own breath, all while keeping your gaze fixed on him.
That was all it took.
Din’s head fell back against the wall with a silent thud as the tension snapped.
The insulation of the compartment and the distant machinery thankfully swallowed most of the sound. Outside, the footsteps continued past without slowing.
Inside, you had no choice but to hold steady as the wave finally broke and he spilled into your mouth, his warm cum coating the back of your throat and dripping down.
True to his earlier command, you kept your eyes lifted to the visor above you as you swallowed around his cock, taking every drop of him.
His fingers dug sharply into your hair now, the pressure almost painful as he fought to stay quiet through the release that rolled through him.
The footsteps faded down the corridor.
Only once the silence returned did Din finally exhale.
The breath came out slow and shaky.
After a moment he carefully pulled his still hardened length away, the movement making his tip bump lightly against your lips as he straightened.
“You…” he muttered, voice still rough. “…are an absolute menace.”
You leaned back slightly, licking the corners of your mouth before flashing him a satisfied grin.
“Happy to be of service.” You gave him a small, mocking nod.
With practiced hands you helped Din straighten himself back into the flight suit, smoothing the fabric into place before giving the front of it a light, almost condescending pat.
“Good as new,” you murmured under your breath.
The grip he had held in your hair finally loosened. Instead of the sharp hold from moments ago, his fingers slid through the strands in slow strokes, brushing your scalp before drifting down along the side of your face, tilting your face upwards by the chin. The gesture carried none of the urgency from earlier - just quiet warmth.
“We’re going to have a conversation about your sense of risk assessment once we’re back on the ship,” he said after a moment. Even through the helmet you could hear the grin in his voice. “Can’t take you anywhere.”
“Speaking of taking me places,” you said, nodding toward the sealed panel behind him, “you think things have cooled down out there yet?”
“I certainly have,” he replied dryly. The helmet tilted slightly as he listened for a moment, the faint sounds of the facility humming through the walls around you. “Seems quiet enough. Might be our best window.”
He glanced down toward you.
“Can you get it open again?”
Your lockpicking kit was still tucked safely in your pocket. After all, the panel had sealed itself automatically once you had picked it the first time and Din had shoved you inside. Your part of the job hadn’t exactly ended when the door closed.
You pulled the tools free with a quiet clink.
“What exactly are you contributing to this mission again?” you asked with a crooked grin.
Din awkwardly stepped over you in the tight compartment so you could shift forward, bracing yourself on your knees while you reached the panel controls.
“Because as far as I remember,” you continued, sliding the picks into place, “I handled the theft, the lockpicking, and the tension relief.”
Behind you he shifted his weight against the opposite wall.
“I’m making sure no one stands between us and the ship so I can repay you,” he replied calmly.
The panel hissed softly as the locking mechanism disengaged beneath your tools.
He leaned closer.
“Now hurry up,” he added quietly, “before I make you.”
You didn’t need further encouragement. You scrambled to your feet quickly - only to wobble immediately as your legs protested the long minutes spent kneeling.
Pins and needles shot through your calves.
“Stars,” you muttered, shaking them out. “Did the Jedi deal with this kind of thing all the time?”
Din didn’t slow.
“Less talking,” he said simply. His hand closed around your wrist and pulled you forward down the corridor. “More moving.”
Waiting had been the right call.
The frantic security sweep from earlier had thinned considerably. Most of the guards had clearly moved their search elsewhere by now, likely assuming you had already slipped off the premises.
Still, the path back to the exit wasn’t completely empty.
Twice you had to flatten yourselves against shadowed corners as patrols passed nearby.
Twice Din handled the problem when stealth alone wasn’t enough.
Before long the familiar shape of the Razor Crest appeared waiting at the edge of the landing platform like an old friend.
You sprinted the final stretch. By the time the ramp lowered you were already breathing hard.
Din reached the cockpit first, vaulting into the pilot’s seat as the startup sequence flared to life across the control panels.
You stumbled up into the cockpit seconds later and dropped into the copilot chair beside him, chest still rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.
But the grin on your face refused to fade.
From your pocket you produced the prize.
The Kyber Resonance Shard caught the cockpit lights as you tossed it lightly into the air and caught it again.
“Well,” you said, leaning back slightly as the engines hummed louder beneath your feet, “that was an experience.”
You flipped the shard once more.
Din said nothing. His gloved hands moved across the controls with steady precision, initiating the final departure sequence.
The ship lifted smoothly from the platform.
You glanced sideways at him.
“What do you think this thing will sell for?” you asked, turning the crystal between your fingers.
Still nothing.
A small flicker of unease crept into your thoughts. Had you pushed too far earlier?
You cleared your throat. “Maybe we should take more breaking-and-entering jobs,” you added casually.
You tossed the shard again -
- but this time Din’s hand shot out and caught it midair before you could.
The motion was so quick it left you blinking.
Without looking at you, he engaged the hyperdrive controls with his other hand. The Crest lurched gently as it entered hyperspace, the blue tunnel of stars stretching across the viewport.
Din turned the crystal over once in his hand. Then set it on the console. Only after that did he rise from the pilot’s seat. His broad silhouette loomed over you.
“Bunk,” he said.
Just one word.
No humor left in it.
The tone wasn’t angry.
But it was unmistakably an order.
And stars help you - you obeyed it eagerly.
You were out of the copilot seat in a heartbeat, heading down the narrow corridor toward the sleeping quarters.
Behind you, heavy footsteps followed.
You reached the bunk and climbed inside just as the familiar sound echoed through the small cabin -
The quiet hiss of a helmet seal disengaging.
Your grin widened.
Propping yourself up on your elbows, you stretched out on the mattress and looked toward the doorway with open anticipation.
You had worked with Din long enough to know exactly how this was going to end.
