F I R S T T I M E F O R E V E R Y T H I N G
pairing: din djarin x f!reader
word count: 20.11k (honestly a mini series)
rating: e (minors dni)
song inspo: me and your momma by childish gambino
summary: after helping the mandalorian with a favor, he brings you a gift as a thank you. little do both of you know that this gift sparks a connection that neither of you can deny, and thoughts that din never considered before you.
tags/warnings: dual pov, no use of y/n cuz ew, alcohol consumption, mentions of medicine/contraceptives, a very tiny mention of being chased/hunted down, hella chemistry, fluff, language, jealousy, sexual tension, yearning, dirty talk, heavy makeout, biting, fingering, clit play, cunnilingus, breast play, slight choking kink, piv unprotected sex, praise kink, breeding kink, cream pie, helmet off, dark room sensory focused.
authorβs note: listen listen LISTEN... I know, it's been a hot minute π₯² Life happened and all that jazz. Tbh this has been in my drafts for a while but I decided to finish it now that the movie is out so this is probably canon divergent at this point lol. But when I tell you I ran away writing this, bitch I raaaan. To everyone who wondered what happened to that bottle of liquor in s3, this is for you pookiesπ«΅π»πββοΈ
When you decided to make Nevarro your home, you expected it to be a rough place. A far off den of thieves, bounty hunters, and a sleazy connection to the old empire. Nonetheless, it was cheap so you convinced yourself you could put up with it. It wasnβt anything new to you. Plus, at the time, you really didnβt have anywhere else to go.Β
Thankfully, the reputation has drastically improved over the past few years. Itβs not Naboo, but thereβs aΒ sort of gritty charm to it. Rebels became marshals. Bars became schools. Thieves became honest vendors. Hell, thereβs even kaf shops here now.
Youβre no stranger to drastic changes in this galaxy. Youβve beared witness to the rise and fall of an empire after all.
But receiving a bottle of wine at night from a notorious ex-bounty hunter is definitely a first for you.
βYouβreβ¦ giving this to me,β you ask, dragging the question out.
The Mandalorian stands at your doorstep. Unreadable beneath hard shiny metal and illuminated only by the entry light of your home above your door. The chilly night air bites your cheeks but he stands unfazed.
βAs a thank you,β he explains. βYou were a big help to my kid and this was the only thing I had that seemed like something youβd enjoy.β
All you did was give his little green kid some medicine. Itβs not like it was even your first interaction with the infamous hunter. Heβs stopped by your apothecary a couple times. Passing by so swiftly you hardly even knew he was there if it wasnβt for the lingering stares from other customers. If you recall correctly, he only ever picks up supplies to replenish a med pack or bacta spray for wounds.
Until you suddenly found him at your doorstep the other night with his adorable little green baby in his arms. The poor little guy was running a fever, coughing up a storm, and had even refused food for over a day. Any parent would be frantic. And so you didnβt even think twice to let them inside.
Luckily your small shop is attached below your home, so you were quick to find the right tinctures for his illness. The Mandalorian paced circles in your kitchen as you administered the medicine and blotted his kidβs little forehead with a cool damp cloth. It took some time and a lot of reassurance to a very nervous father, but after a few hours the fever broke.
You sent them home with some herbal tinctures and even some homemade hard medicinal candies for stubborn coughs and that was it. Hardly any words were exchanged between you that night that didnβt pertain to the child. Only a heartfelt thank you, goodnight, and a promise to pay you back somehow. You assured him that it really wasnβt necessary, that you were glad to help.
Youβve admittedly always been curious about the man. With his stoic demeanor and a reputation that preceded him like lightening preceded thunder. Heβs somewhat of a local legend, menace, and hero all wrapped up in one. And now heβs at your door. With booze. Definitely a man of his word, this guy.
βYouβre giving this,β you repeat with astonishment. βThis whole bottle, to me?β
βYes,β he answers again. βIs it a special one or something?β
βThis is Andoan wine,β you emphasize, holding out the clear glass bottle. βYou can only find these on Coruscant now. Very delicious, very rare, very expensive.β
βIs it,β he asks nonchalantly. βIβve never tried it before. But I hope you enjoy it.β
βYou really donβt have to,β you tell him.
βI insist. I didnβt know the first thing to do so I appreciate your help.β
You chuckle. With your limited interactions, youβre starting to see that heβs short and to the point with his words. Almost like heβs not entirely used to speaking with people.
βIβ¦β You nearly argue it again but decide against it. He really didnβt have to give you such a lavish gift for something any good person would do in a situation like that. It was only natural. But at this point, refusing him might come off as rude soβ¦
βThank you very much.β
The Mandalorian acknowledges your gratitude with a tilt of his helmet, then turns on his heels to leave without another word. And for some reason, you linger at the door. You watch him go down one step, then another, then-
βH-hey, Mando?β
Your sudden call stops him in his tracks on the stair case and he turns to look back over his shoulder. The dim light gleaming over his steel.
βYes?β
βIβ¦. w-wellβ¦β
Youβre stammering. Just come out and say it.
βIf youβve never tried itβ¦ would you like to share it with me?β
He stands there silently looking at you and the awkwardness crawls your skin.
βIβm not busy at the moment and itβs not really in my culture to drink alone.β
Culture your ass. You just want to drink with him. Itβs unclear why in particular butβ¦ youβre curious about him. Other than the company of his kid, he seems alone. You wonder if he prefers it that way or if itβs for another reason entirely. Either way, the offer was worth a shot.
Thereβs more silence and the only noise in the air comes from the gentle chirp of some lava crickets and the breeze brushing the trees in the street. And itβs in that moment that regret starts to burn in your stomach
Heβs gonna say no. A pause like that doesnβt necessarily mean yes. But it would be rude not to offer, right? A bottle this nice doesnβt come by these parts and itβd be a shame to drink it alone. Itβs reasonable to offer the gesture. After all, he went out of his way to come here from across town. Itβs the least you can do to show your appreciation in return.
βAlright.β
The word that falls out of him so effortlessly hits you like a punch to the chest. Are you nervous? Absolutely. But how many people can say they shared a drink with the Mandalorian?
A few minutes later, you find yourself standing on your tip toes, grabbing a couple earthenware ceramic cups in your kitchenette cabinet while Mando stands in your living room. His helmet follows the various potted plants, momentos and knick knacks from your travels littered around your home. Even tracing his gloved fingers over some of them.
βYou have a nice home,β he says. βI didnβt notice before. Very lived in.β
βLots of junk,β you joke. βYou can say it Mando, I wonβt mind.β
βMy place is still new. Doesnβt feel like a home just yet.β
βThatβll change over time,β you assure him. βAfter a while, your home becomes a collection of memories.β
His attention gets drawn to a particular item on your wall. Itβs an old worn down canvas satchel bag that hangs on the wall. At one point it was a life line. Now it serves as a reminder that no matter how hard life gets, showing a little kindness can go a long way for someone.
βWhatβs this memory?β
βThat? That memory is what got me here.β You smile to yourself as you wipe down the cups with a clean kitchen rag.
βA few years ago, I was on Pantora with just some spare change and the clothes on my back. I was desperate to leave so I ended up hitching a ride on a freight ship. I worked on the ship in exchange for a ride to Corellia. Their language was difficult to learn and I had a rough time getting things done because for some reason everything was written in the native language and not aurebesh. On a stop to Tattooine, I accidentally labeled a pallet of coaxium as a pallet of scrap metal. That βscrapβ was sold to some Jawas and by the time everyone realized my mistake we were already halfway to the next planet.β
βWas that before you came the Nevarro?β
βThat was the reason I came to Nevarro,β you clarify. βIt was their next stop so they dropped me here.β
βOuch.β
βYeah, ouch,β you laugh. βAnyway, I guess one of the workers felt sorry for me and left me that satchel with a couple credits and some ration bars inside. Buuut my mistake turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Nevarro turned itself around. I have my own little business. Iβm even able to save a little bit of money now. For the time being, things are comfortable. Iβve hopped around the system a lot as you can see. Butβ¦ this is a place I can always come back to.β
βSomething reliable,β he adds.
βExactly,β you say softly, smiling at the sentiment.
You look up at him. And you didnβt notice as you were cleaning those cups that heβs now completely facing towards you. His visor is trained on you. And itβs then that you realize how small your home really is. Because Mando is broad.
His crossed arms accentuate his wide shoulders. His chest plate follows the lines of his trim torso. Even those plates of beskar armor can barely hide the bulk of his biceps. Your eyes briefly, briefly take a tour at his waist line before you realize how incredibly rude youβre being.
Heβs a guest. And a customer. Donβt. Check. Him. Out.
Heat starts to rise in your cheeks. Focusing back on the cups, you round the kitchen counter and walk over to him.
βIβm sorry. All this talking suddenly got deeper and I feel like I havenβt really introduced myself. Weβve only ever passed by each other before,β you chuckle, shaking away the nerves.
In hindsight you shouldβve just introduced yourself the other night, but truthfully you were in care-taker-mode and it didnβt occur to you at the time. Plus you didnβt think youβd have an encounter with the man again other than seeing him briefly in your shop every so often. But he seems like a nice enough person with the limited knowledge you do have with him. And after tonight youβre bound to cross paths again. So you happily extend your hand out and give him his cup along with your full name.
Thereβs a couple beats of silence and youβre starting to see thatβs his default. But it doesnβt stop you from second guessing your words as if youβre crossing an unknown boundary. Thereβs a slight tilt downward with his helmet and he responds with a regretful βIβm sorry, but-β
βYou donβt have to tell me your name,β you immediately add. βI know thereβsβ¦ principles you must have. I just wanted you to know me. Thatβs all.β
Another beat passes before he finally reaches out to take the cup in his hand. He repeats your name and the way it comes out of his voice holds a whole new flavor. Soft and curious even through the warble of his vocoder. Itβs almost like heβs seeing how it tastes.
You like it. You like it a lot.
βItβs nice to meet you.β The voice wears the vocoder like a veil but you still catch a hint of a smile by his relaxed tone. No real logical way to know for certain, just a gut feeling.
βLikewise,β you smile back.
βSo,β he exhales. βYou want to know how two Mandalorians drink?β
βSure. Sounds educational,β you joke.
With a tilt of his helmet, Mando steps further into the living room area and you follow behind, cup and bottle in hand. Walking over to the couch, his gloved hand reaches for the small round pillow resting there. His smokey grey cape flows over his shoulder and for a moment youβre mesmerized by the movement. As he turns on his heel, his fingers release the pillow. Letting it fall to the thin rug with a muted poof.
βRight here.β Mando gestures to the floor and you waltz over to take a seat on the cushion, crossing your legs. It doesnβt escape your notice how he doesnβt grab the only pillow for himself. Opting for your comfort over his own.
He takes a minute to look around the room. Probably checking for anything reflective. Then with a swish of his cape to the side, Mando settles in the floor behind you. When his back presses against yours, you expect a wall of cold hard metal beneath the cape. But instead thereβs warmth. Strong and firm, but still warm and giving.
βItβs customary to sit on the floor when drinking with a war band. Usually outside around a fire. When itβs just two, itβs back to back.β
βAaah,β you drawl. βVery practical. I like it.β
The top of the bottle comes off with a pop and the rich scent caresses your nose like a hug. After pouring about two fingers worth into Mandoβs cup you pour one for yourself and settle in.
βAre we drinking to anything tonight ,β you ask him.
βNot sure. How aboutβ¦,β he pauses for a moment before deciding. βTo that Pantoran who gave you the satchel.β
That makes you laugh out loud. But you canβt help but feel a little pleased at that. If it wasnβt for him, you wouldnβt be on Nevarro, wouldnβt have a home. And you definitely wouldnβt be drinking with Mando tonight. For that youβre especially grateful.
βYou know what, yeah,β you chuckle. βTo the Pantoran.β
Mando extends his arm back to reach your cups and you meet him halfway. Letting them touch with a soft clack.
βCheers.β
βCheers.β
Thereβs an unclicking sound and you sense that heβs probably tilting his helmet back to drink. You ignore the small tinge of disappointment that he didnβt take it completely off. But itβs understandable. He doesnβt know you well. Even drinking like this with an outsider is probably a big deal for people of his creed. His back presses a little further against yours as he takes his first sip and you take yours.
The wine is rich and dry, and a bit smokey. But the underlying taste of tangy fruit blends well with the flavor. Going by the color, it has to have been bottled for a decades. The alcohol runs warmly down your throat and settles like smoldering ember in your stomach. Itβs like no other alcohol youβve ever tried before. Not even close.
βHoooh,β he hisses after that sharp bite of alcohol.
βYeah,β you agree knowingly. Already sensing that this bottle is getting finished tonight.
The conversations flow pretty easily after the first drink. He tells you about how his boy came into his life and how he suddenly found himself being his father. You tell him that you can only dream of having a parent like him because you never got to know yours. You half expected he would cut the interaction short and only accept one drink. But when you offer a refill, he gladly accepted which warmed you from the inside.
Admittedly you ask a few curious questions about his creed and he indulges you a bit. And he asks about how you got into medicine making. But for the most part you both stick to easier topics like current events on Nevarro, work, and food. Eventually two drinks turn into three and somehow youβve both dipped into topics like past relationships. Which is dangerous territory after drink number three.
βIt was baaad, Mando. Iβm telling you. I mean, really! Who gives two shits who makes more money than who? Or am I in the wrong here?β
βNah, definitely not,β he replies. His speech now more relaxed but a little raspy from the alcohol. βHonestly, he sounds like a little bitch if that was his main concern.β
βYeah! Like, what is it with these men and needing to feel superior in such bullshit, inconsequential ways?β
βYou seem strong willed. Weak men are intimidated by that.β
βYeah well, then every man Iβve met in this galaxy was weak,β you groan. βI mean, cβmon. Am I that intimidating? Is it the yapping? Itβs probably the yapping.β
βI think someone whoβd be deterred by something that trivial doesnβt sound worth a damn anyway.β
With that, you let out a deep sigh and slump against the man behind your back.
βEh, youβre probably right,β you exhale. You toss back the last little sip in your ceramic cup, savoring the flavor.
βYou know what, itβs fine. Iβm fine. Iβll just be that shop girl around the corner who throws herself into her work, makes her little remedies, and stays happily independent. I think I can live with that.β
A pause streches between you.
βYou donβt sound too convincing, Shop Girl,β he teases.
βShit,β you tsk.
You both wheeze with laughter, your bodies rumbling against one another and itβs soβ¦ relaxing. Heβs surprisingly easy to talk to. Perhaps itβs because he doesnβt say much. Or that what little he does say is said with a sincerity youβre not used to. Or youβre drunk. It could very well be that.
But in a galaxy full of deceit and unknown dangers, itβs refreshing to talk with someone as honest as him. Heβs authentic, unapologetically so.
βHey soβ¦ can I ask you something?β
βYouβve been asking things this whole time,β he teases.
βI know, butβ¦ itβs technically a helmet question. And you can tell me to fuck off if itβs too much.β
Mando hums and the rumble reverberates through your body, nesting warmly in your chest. Heβs settled comfortably against you and it makes you feel close enough to ask what you want to ask. After thinking it over he gives you permission.
βCanβt wait to hear this,β he sighs with a little amusement.
You smile. To your surprise, he actually has a good sense of humor. A dry, blunt one . But humor nonetheless. You run a finger over the rim of your cup, finding a little more courage.
βMandoβ¦ Have you ever kissed anyone before?β
Itβs a simple enough question, right? Itβs within the ballpark of the topics youβve been discussing. And youβre both adults. Itβs not like itβs inappropriateβ¦Right?
Oh god, you really are drunkβ¦
Regret rises with each passing second and you wonder why you even brought it up. Itβs probably some kind of insult to his creed to ask something like that.Β
βToo much,β you broach gently.
βNo,β he says softly. βYouβre not exactly the first person to ask that. Doubt youβll be the last.β
He pauses for a moment to find the right words. Then with a heavy exhale he gives you an answer to your insanely intrusive question.
βI was pretty young when I took the creed,β he states. βTen, twelve maybe? Too young to be interested in those kinds of things. Never looked back since. To be completely honest, itβs not even something I really think about in adulthood. Never understood the hype.β
βSooo, Iβll take that as a no.β
βNo,β he breathes. βNever kissed anyone.β
Never kissed anyone? Never felt a personβs soft lips against his own or graze his skin? Does that mean he hasnβt gotten to experience more than kissing? Licking? Biting? Orβ¦
Do not finish that thoughtβ¦
βHuhβ¦ Well, thatβs a shame,β you say without thinking, quickly adding β-but at the same time, I completely understand it too! I mean, it shows a lot of self discipline, you know? To resist that kind ofβ¦ temptation. Most people donβt have any reason to be disciplined enough to stay chaste. I can admire tha-"
βI said Iβve never kissed anyone, I didnβt say I never fucked.β
Thankβ¦ the Makerβ¦ youβre not face to face. Because the way your eyes bulged just now wouldβve been downright embarrassing had it been caught. He didnβt just say sex or even screwing. The Mandalorian fucks. The alcohol in your blood seems to conjure a brief glimpse of what that might look like before you find enough coherence to shew it away.
ββ¦oh,β you breathe out, effectively stopping your rambling. βI-I guess I just assumedβ¦β
A deep exhale blows out of his nose. He hums, seemingly entertained by the foot youβve put in your mouth. But also making the air light between you.
βWell, you assumed wrong.β
The humor in his voice settles your nerves a bit. Thankfully there isnβt an awkward air at the sudden change to such a topic despite hardly knowing each other. And oddly enough, it feels easy to talk about it for that very reason.
βYouβre rather chatty when you drink, Mandalorian. I feel like Iβm learning all sorts of things about you tonight.β
βYouβre right,β he breathes. βI spoke without thinking, I apologize.β
βNo, Itβs fine. I donβt mind at all. Itβs a relief to know thereβs a man under all that armor and not solid metal.β
He hums again and the noise stirs something in your chest.
βWell, even soβ¦ Itβs lateβ¦ Probably best if I stop drinking.β
You look into your empty cup. Then glance over to the bottle with barely a drop left inside. Something inside you wilts. Thereβs nothing to keep him here any longerβ¦
βYeahβ¦ Me too.β
Youβre not sure if you wait for him to move first or if heβs waiting for you. But both of you remain still for nearly a whole minute. Silent and hesitant to end the night. As comfortable as it is, you feel Mandoβs back lean away from yours and you miss the warmth. You turn on the floor to find him standing up as he adjusts his helmet clasp and places his empty cup on the table.
βYou were right. It tasted better shared,β he admits. A satisfied smile curls your lips.
βIf you learned anything about me tonight, Mando, itβs that I am always right when it comes to liquor.β
βI appreciate the hospitality.β
βI appreciate the company.β
You place a hand on the table as an anchor in an attempt to stand up and follow him to the door. But as you try to stand straight, the room spins and your knees buckle.
Nope. Not doing that.
You sit your ass right back down on that cushion before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Quick to respond, Mando catches your free arm. Making sure you land back down safely.
βYou ok,β he asks, concerned but with a hint of humor.
βPfft. Yeah, Iβm good. I think Iβll just stay down here for a minute,β you chuckle, running a hand through your hair and closing your eyes for a moment.
For sure youβll have a hangover tomorrow. Shit. You work tomorrow. Thereβs a couple things youβre running low on, too. Youβll have to request an order through the trading guild. Thatβll cost credits. Maybe if you get that Chiss man again you can manage a trade and he can throw in those dried flower buds for that tea that keeps getting sold out.
You know youβre already a bit dizzy. But behind closed eyes you feel like your head is swaying. Or ratherβ¦ that itβs being moved. Something warm and firm holds your jaw up and when your eyes flutter open again youβre met face to face with dark silver.
The Mandalorian stands barely a foot in front of you. Visor fixed down on your face. Maybe the wine has made your brain slow but itβs only when you follow the path from his shoulder and down his outstretched arm that you realize whatβs holding your jawβ¦ is his hand.
With a subtle pass of his thumb along your cheek you can feel warmth starting to pool in your face. Awareness pricks the hairs on the back of your neck when you realize your position. Sitting on your knees, face barely level to his waist as a wall of steel and muscle towers over you.
βYour cheeks get flushed when you drink,β he mutters.
When I drink. Suuuure.
βNow you know,β you mumble without thinking. It grants you a satisfied hum from his helmet and you feel it travel through your ears and under your skin.
βNow I knowβ¦,β he repeats.
Thereβs no movement, no words. But thereβs something thick in the air. Itβs heavy and enticing. Itβd be so easy to get wrapped up in it with any sudden movement. You look up at him through half lidded eyes and you get a gut feeling that theyβre meeting his. Youβre not sure what his are giving away. But yours have to be hinting something youβve been trying to hide all night.
With a sharp intake of air, Mando steps back and releases your face. Your head drops a little at the loss of support and it follows his direction as he walks towards the front door with quick, heavy steps. With a press of a button on the wall panel, the door panels slide open and just before he steps outside⦠he stops. Not looking back, just standing there at the edge of your home with his stand still resting on the doorway.
βDonβt invite me in again.β
And then heβs gone. The door panels shut swiftly, leaving you alone and more confused than when he showed up at your door.
β¦what?
β’
Din wishes he could say that the first thing he thinks about when he got home that night was his sleeping kid safe in the crib. Or at the very least about how incredible that wine tasted. But after he undressed and collapsed down onto his bed half drunk, the only thought he couldnβt stop thinking about as he stared at the ceiling wasβ¦
Damnβ¦ itβs been a while.
For the past few years, Dinβs life has flipped around a number of times. Between barely scraping by as a bounty hunter, saving an orphan kid from an imperial psychopath, losing said kid, then having him return and be by his side to reclaim the Mandalorian home-world, thereβs not much time to indulge those kinds of needs. But just because Din found himself being a busy father later in life doesnβt make certain things dead.
No. Everything felt very much alive and kicking by the end of that bottle.
Behind closed eyes, his room feels like it swirls. After that wine, his body feels loose and relaxed. Something he rarely gets to experience these days. Images dance across his closed lids. Delicate, slender hands around a handmade cup. A pink flush on smooth skin. Plump tinted lips between his fingers, softly parted and begging to be touched. The intrusive impulse to dip a finger between those lips was so strong he could feel his hand move into the action before he could even think to do so.
All thanks to that one question. That simple, innocent question activated a deep part of his brain that lay dormant. And then he decided to shatter the care free atmosphere by with a crass remark about sex.
Never in his life has he regretted saying something so fast. You barely even know each other. Admittedly, Din isnβt exactly a refined person, far from it actually. But after his third glass, any semblance of manners flew right out the window. His mouth did the walking with little thinking involved.
Yet, you didnβt get uncomfortable. You handled the slip up with humor instead of getting offended or something just as bad. Using humor to make the air light again. It surprised him how easily you did it. How easy the conversation was all night, really. Itβs not everyday heβs able to let his guard down with another person.
Once he was aware of that, he became aware of everything. How late the hour was, how drunk you both were, and how your bed was right behind where you both sat. Only separated by a simple room divider. Even when he tipped up his helmet, there was a heady herbal scent from you that kept swimming in his nose and it was just as intoxicating as the wine. He couldnβt trust himself to stay any longer. And now, in the safety of his own home, he finds himself preoccupied with a mountain of questions.
What kind of person are you? Whatβs your daily life like? What other places have you seen? What troubles you? You seem to be rooted here in Nevarro for the time being. But from what youβve mentioned about your past, you have a kind of nomadic life. What happens if heβ¦ if the kid gets attached and you decide to move on to another planet? But then again, itβs not like heβs not one to talk though is he?
Loyalty. Solidarity. These are things that have been etched to his core since childhood. But giving those things to something that could be fleeting? Thatβs a risk heβs avoided for most of his life. Those kinds of wounds never heal.
But as much as he tries to distance himself, itβs not always in his control.
Three weeks go by and they couldnβt end soon enough. When he offered to work with Teva (or Blue as he usually calls him) on a case-by-case basis, he figured theyβd be more involved than the bounty hunting trade. Heβs spent up to a month off planet at times in order to capture a quarry so itβs not exactly new to him.
But that was when he had the Razor Crest. With a cot to rest in, a weapons locker, and supplies readily at hand. In that regard, the N-1 leaves much to be desired. Plus Dinβs back isnβt what it used to be and long rides in that ship are killer. And to add insult to injury, this last case with Zeb was especially complicated to resolve. It left him and the kid completely drained.
After finally landing back in Nevarro with fresh credits, there is absolutely nothing Din wants more than to just go home, bathe, and sleep for at least a day. But heβs got a very hungry green mouth to feed and thereβs no way Din is fixing up any dinner tonight.
Street food it is.
βAlright, weβre making this quick. In and out. Iβll get you as much food as you want and you can pick out one sweet. Not five. One. Got that?β Grogu tilts his head at Din curiously from where he follows behind on the cobblestone street and heβll just take that as a yes.
Dozens of food stalls are gathered at the main square in town as he approaches. Adorned with all sorts of neon signs, string lights and colorful banners. Itβs a busy atmosphere filled with people laughing, vendors calling out for customers to stop by, and sounds of clanking and sizzling as they cook.
Din gravitates towards the skewers stand. He knows Grogu is going to down ten of them by himself so he opts for something easy, filling, and cheap. He catches sight of those spicy chunks of fatty meat searing over lava coals and his mouth waters.
βOkay, which onesss-β
Din reaches down to pick up his son only to find the street bricks.
β-Sssshhhhit,β he hisses under his breath, glancing around. This fucking kid. He knows better than to run off.
The crowd is thick and itβs getting dark. He scans through the sea of people and vendors but doesnβt find that familiar pale green.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
With a tap of his helmet side panel he switches to the tracking beacon screen. After enough scares like these heβs learned to have a tracker sewn into his clothes at this point.
Blinking red arrows come into his view and he follows the path. Not caring whose shoulders he budges or what food he knocks out of someoneβs grip to get through. The red arrows turn yellow. Heβs getting close but thereβs still no visual of the kid and heβs starting to panic. He pushes through, scanning side to side and calling out his name in an orchestra of noises without reply.
Yellow turns to green and heβs still out of sight. Heβs tiny and easy to miss. Grogu could be anywhere, he could be in any one of these stalls. What if heβs taken? What if someone else is tracking him? He could be picked up by a total stranger and taken away again.
Just as that thought crosses his mind, thereβs a small separation in the crowd. Big floppy ears come into view and heβs definitely been picked up. But itβs no stranger that holds him.
βAnd here comes dad~β A voice soft as silk rings inside his helmet.
Relief floods his body as well as caution when he taps his screen clear. Only him. Situations like this only happen to him. It couldβve been Karga. It couldβve been anybody. But it had to be you that found him.
It was barely two minutes. But within those two minutes Dinβs head flooded with every worst case scenario possible. And here he is. Happily babbling in your arms like he didnβt just give his dad a fucking heart attack.
βI know, I know,β you assure him like you can already tell where his headβs at, trying to speak over all the noise. βDonβt be too hard on the little guy. I already gave him a bit of a lecture for running around at night.β
Din wants to. Itβs honestly his first reaction. But a cooler head prevails and he decides against it after a second thought. He reminds himself (once again) that Grogu is still young and that getting angry would only make things worse. What matters is that heβs safe and that he managed to find you.
βAt least he wonβt have to hear it twice,β he exhales, pushing out the stress sitting in his lungs. βSorry about him.β
βNo, no sorry needed. Heβs smarter than he lets on. At least he ran to someone he knew. Iβm glad I was around.β
Din opens his mouth to speak but ends up falling short with his words. Now that some of the stress has left his body, his eyes take you in at a second glance. Unclouded by the adrenaline.
Your hair is tied up with a pin with a few loose pieces falling at the nape of your neck and around your face. With the heat persisting into the night, you decided to wear a thin strap tank top that hangs low on your chest. It exposes miles of smooth skin, from your shoulders all the way down the arms wrapped around his kid. A dusty blue apron wraps around your waist over some baggy cargo pants so you mustβve came here right after work. Thereβs a glow from all the neon lights that adorns you and he has to will his mouth to move before he gets caught staring.
βHere.β He extends his hands to you. βI can take him back. Thank you for catching him. Cβmon, bud. Let her get back to shopping.β
βItβs no problem,β you assure him with a smile. Your hands hooks under Grogus tiny arms and start to pull him off your torso. βBack to dad you go.β
But the moment heβs barely lifted, he cries out in protest with a shrill whine. Refusing to leave your side. You pull him back in instantly and run a soothing hand on his back.
βOh! Okay, okay. You can stay with me for a minute,β you giggle in a sugary voice to Grogu. Bouncing him on your hip.
You both exchange a look of surprise (as much as his visor can give off anyway). What kind of person are you that Grogu prefers your embrace over his own father? He doesnβt know whether to be jealous or impressed.
But itβs getting late, they need to eat and get home and you probably need to get back to your own errands. Dinβs hands extends again to take Grogu but you shake your head with a little smile. Letting him know itβs not an inconvenience to you.
βHere, wanna help me pick out some sweets?β
Grogu coos at your request, toying with the glittering silver chain pendant on your neck. You rest his kid on your hip effortlessly and the motion of it pinches something deep in Dinβs chest. Turning to the assorted trays of sugared fruits on skewers, you list the various kinds for Grogu to pick out. Talking back with him like you can actually understand his little babbles. You answer him with βooh, thatβs a good choiceβ and βthese are my favoritesβ.Β
Din just stands aside, watching the way you both interact and itβs admittedly a bit pleasing to see how natural you are with him. Most people think heβs a pet at first glance. Karga treats him like a newborn. Talking gibberish and doting on him despite him handling a 50 year old. You, on the other hand, just treat him like a regular kid. And itβs refreshing to see.
His sonβs head spins back at his father with the biggest set of sparkling inky eyes and Din can see the pleading question in them. He tilts his helmet at him and reminds him βoneβ. Those large ears deflate a little and you giggle at the interaction. Din offers to pay for your skewer along with Groguβs as another thank you for looking after his son (again). The vendor gathers the treats in paper wrappers to take to go.
You turn to ask Din something, but itβs covered by the noise of yelling and cooking. He tilts his head a bit lower to try and catch what youβre saying. Then, without hesitation, your hand finds purchase on the pauldron on his shoulder. Prompting him to lean in closer to you so you can speak within earshot.
βItβs been a minute since I saw you last,β you remark with a raised voice. βEverything good?β
Shit.
For a second he freezes. Partly at the lack of distance between you, but mostly because the last time he saw you he stormed out of your place like it was on fire without so much as a goodnight. Youβre probably wondering what the hell that was about and he honestly canβt answer that himself. Although your expression seems more cheerful than troubled. He crouches closer to your ears and replies with caution, hoping to avoid the direction of that conversation.
βYeah, weβve been umβ¦ traveling a lot lately. I get contracted by the new republic pretty often these days. Leaving him behind with someone whenever Iβm off planet for too long doesnβt seem fair to him so heβs always by my side no matter what.β
βAh, that makes sense. You usually stop by for medkit supplies so when I didnβt see you last week I figured you were away.β
Din mentally smacks his forehead. Right. Of course you meant the shop. Because what else would you be implying to a fucking customer? Youβre just making small talk. Something he has never really gotten the hang of. Seems pretty damn easy when heβs drinking thoughβ¦
βWe actually just got back. Too tired to fix something up so I figured Iβd grab us something quick and easy before heading home.β
βUgh. I feel that. When I get home Iβm crashing on the first soft surface I see,β you groan, still bouncing Grogu on the curve of your hip. Those hipsβ¦
No. Stop it.
βBusy day,β he asks and your eyes roll upwards.
βBusy week,β you exclaim. βI swear I think about quitting at least once a day. But I like it too much. Plus itβs the only thing Iβm any good at. Otherwise Iβd probably be some kind of criminal.β You pause then laugh at the thought before adding, βthen youβd probably have to hunt me down, huh?β
Thatβ¦ is a scenario that he already knows is going to stick in his brain for a while. Itβs such an enticing thought that he doesnβt bother to tell you heβs not in that business anymore. A tiny part of him would much rather have you think heβd chase you. Obviously youβre not serious, but he canβt help but lean into the joke.
βI donβt know,β he says unconvinced. βMight be pretty easy to find you. All I have to do is look wherever thereβs street food.β
A laugh bubbles out of you and thereβs a strange feeling that radiates in his chest at being able to make you laugh. Pride maybe? No, more likeβ¦ satisfaction.
βDonβt underestimate me, Mando. I know my way around the outer rim. Iβd make you work for it,β you say. Taunting him with a knowing smirk.
A smile tugs higher on his hidden face. The thought of you making him work for anything will no doubt be food for thought later. And instinct tells him that mightβve been your intention. But two can play at this game.
Youβre already nearly face to face but he inches even closer, almost close enough for metal to meet skin. Ensuring you catch every word right into your ear.
βIβd like to see you try, Shop Girl.β
Your eyes grow a little wider at the sound of your nickname and he takes pleasure at just how effective it is. Itβs another reminder of that night. A name that was spoken within an intimate atmosphere that only the two of you occupied. And by your expression, that same thought crosses your mind too.
You bite your bottom lip in a smile. The same lips that were between his hands. The only lips he canβt seem to forget. The shape, the color, and how fucking edible they look. Heβs even noticed how they pout a little when youβre concentrated on a task. More questions surface.
What do they feel like? What do they taste like? What makes a kiss so good that everyone can recall their first?
The bubble created is suddenly burst by the outside world. The stall vendor gleefully hands over the candied fruit over the counter in their wrappers and you take them with your free hand. Handing the mixed one to Grogu because he couldnβt decide on just one flavor. Reality returns to Dinβs head and his thoughts immediately sober up.
What the hell is he doing?
He tears his eyes away. Even if you canβt tell, looking at you like that for too long feels wrong. Youβre a good person, youβre trying to live a normal life, and what youβve told him youβre not looking to get involved in any drama. He has to keep reminding himself of those things.
That same instinct to leave hits him again. Because that urge to do something he canβt take back flares up again and itβs best to not give that feeling any more energy. For both your sakes. He gestures his hand in a hand-him-over motion, signaling to you and Grogu that itβs time to go.
βAlright, time to go kid. Say goodnight.β
Grogu whines with a mouthful of sweets and a face covered in sugar and it makes him chuckle to himself. Din would normally find the defiance a little cute, if it wasnβt for the stunt he pulled earlier. You carefully hand him over with both arms leaning in close and again he feels another pinch in his chest at how carefully you exchange him.
Your bare arms graze against his clothed ones and he pulls away the second he has hold of his kid. He ignores the small current of electricity from the contact and maneuvers Grogu into the crossbody bag to his hip. Which, of course, makes him protest.
βNope. You had your chance. Now you get the bag.β
βAw cβmon,β you scold βHe was just playing around. Now heβs in bag jail?β
First the kid and now you? He can tell his son no, but it might be a little harder to tell you that.
βYeah, yeah. Maybe next time heβll think twice about running off in a crowd,β he groans.
Once the kid is settled in the bag, you follow him down. Crouching down, you sit face to face with Grogu as he stuffs his face with the candied fruit. Resting your free hand on his fuzzy head as the other holds your own skewered treat.
βKay, little rebel. Go stuff your face with some good food. And take it easy on your poor dad, alright? Heβs not built for that kinda stress.β
βWhatβs that supposed to mean,β he asks, kind of amused by your ribbing. He can count on one hand the people who are undaunted enough to make playful jabs at him.
Your lips twist and your eyes take a tour up to your brows as you think of your reply.
βHmmβ¦ just the way you get a little impatient sometimes. You were like that when you brought him over and paced my living room for an hour,β you chuckle. βYou seem like the kind of man who gets antsy when somethingβs not in your control.β
A smile threatens to crawl his face. Pretty presumptuous. But he canβt deny how true that statement rings. Especially nowadays when itβs not just himself he has to worry about.
βMaybe so,β he replies with a hint of humor in his voice. βPatience isnβt really my strong suit. Although this one seems to enjoy testing it.β
βPatience is bitter,β you muse as you rub the top of Groguβs head with your thumb. He coos with delight and the softest gaze glows on your face. Then from your crouched position, your eyes glance back up at Din and add, ββ¦But the fruit is sweet.β
His jaw flexes beneath his helmet, and heat now courses through his veins.
That canβt be a good sign. He already enjoys your banter too much as it is. But that look just now was dangerous. It dredges up thoughts he shouldnβt have about you. Thoughts like kissing someone he barely knows. Feeling skin on skin. Showing you what a man like him can do to you compared to the boys of your past.
He saw it all over your pretty face when he held it in his hand. That flush on your cheeks, your dilated pupils. Hell, he even saw your heat signature rising in his helmet screen for fuck sake. Thereβs an attraction and thatβs fine (and not completely unreciprocated) but it canβt be anything more than that.
You and him live completely different lives. Thereβs no need to uproot your peace and get involved in his complicated affairs. Even if something happened, it wouldnβt be long before the allure of the suit and mystery people usually perceive of Mandalorians would turn into repulsion.
Thatβs how itβs gone before. Thatβs the way it is.
β’
Youβre a bad person. A horrible human being and a shameless lowlife. Downright beyond saving.
Iβd like to see you try, Shop Girl.
The damn sentence wonβt stop replaying in your head. Itβs not just a nickname. Itβs a nickname he gave you. One thatβs covered in underlying context and memories that only the two of you share. One that peppers your skin with goosebumps when it comes out of that raspy modulated voice. Itβs even worse when your brain starts intrusively placing it in all sorts of sentences.
Thatβs it, Shop Girlβ¦
Youβre doing so well, Shop Girlβ¦
Bend over for me, Shop Girlβ¦
That last one has crawled into your dreams more often than youβd care to admit lately.
You need to get a grip. Itβs just an attraction. Youβve been alone for too long and youβre getting all wound up over a smidge of attention. Heβs just a regular decent person with a kid to take care of who also just happens to have an amazingly muscular body and a voice of sin. Simple as that.
Right. Simple.
After that night at the food stalls, the Mandalorian and Grogu have been visiting your humble Clinic Shop on a more frequently. Usually you'll see them a couple times a week if they're not on one of their long haul trips. Missions? Jobs?
It's not like Mando has any reason to let you know ahead of time. But when a week or so passes with no sign of silver or green, you can't help but feel a little down. You've come to look forward to seeing your regulars. But they grown to being your favorite customers.
And if you're being honest, theres a growing part of you that feels tied to the man in silver beskar. When he's here, the part blossoms. And when he's gone, it feels... wilted. It's unexpected and confusing to say the least. The closest feeling you could label it is homesickness. And truthfully, you're not really sure if you want to feel such a heavy thing towards anybody right now.
There's a lull in the store this hot muggy afternoon. You've already finished your prescription orders, restocked your shelves, even watered all the potted plants outside the entrance. Since you finally have some down time, you figured you might as well get to making some of your popular tea mixes.
On the back counter, you have a variety of dried herbs, flower buds, tea leaves, and a few large mixing bowls. The scent in the shop is incredible right now. Swirling around on the wind propelled by the metal fans around the shop. Spiced and aromatic with a hint of fruitiness. You let the smell fill your lungs and relax your body as you place measured scoops of the mix into small paper bags. A bead of sweat tracks down the back of your neck. Even with pinning your hair up and the strapless wrap you chose to wear today, the heat of the day still clings to your damp skin.
A cool glass of that Andoan wine would be so good right about now...
Maybe it was instinct, or maybe there really is some kind of invisible tie. But something makes your head tilt to the side and glance at the open entrance. And it's then that a glint of sliver light reflects on the stucco walls. A flutter of anticipation strikes through your chest and your eyes are locked at the entrance. Then, that familiar Silver T-visor and a pair of floppy green ears peek around the corner.
The smile that spreads across your cheeks is so big it almost hurts.
"Hey," you exclaim from the back of the store. You leave your station and excitedly make your way across the store to the pair as they step inside.
βItβs been a whi-β
βAh ah, sorry," you cut Mando off mid greeting, halting him with your pointer finger. "Grogu gets first dibs.β
Mando shakes his head but you can tell he's humored. Turning his hip to the side and giving you access to the canvas crossbody where Grogu resides.
βEven though I'm a regular customer," Mando retorts.
If you didnβt know any better, youβd think that sounded a teensy bit like jealousy. You smirk, giving eyes only to the little green baby.
βNot when youβre as cute as him.β You say, placing Grogu on your hip and giving him little scritches on his wrinkled head.
βIsnβt that right, Kid. Mando wishes he could be half as cute as you.β The child coos at you and Mando shakes his head. But you can tell by his body language that he's at least a little amused.
You walk back to the back counter with the kid in your arms and Mando in tow behind you. And the feeling you have in this moment is oddly... domestic? You're not entirely sure if that's the right word. In your life you've never experienced domesticity. But you figure it's similar to that homesick feeling you get.
You place Grogu on top of your station and pull out an herbal lollipop from your apron for him. You like to keep a few handy for kids and they also help with coughs. The kids inky eyes gleam as he babbles and plunges the sugary candy in his mouth.Β
"Any chance that delivery for those new Pharmakits arrived yet," Mando asks, leaning a hand on the counter next to you.
"They did," you nod. "Any chance you're planning on taking on an army on your next trip?"
He shrugs, tilting his helmet to the side in that way he does when he's being aloof.
"Doesn't hurt to keep one on hand. You never know."
You hum in acknowledgment but inside a pit forms in your stomach. The danger he faces whenever he goes on these "jobs" isn't lost on you. Lately, it's been on the back of your mind more often than not. On his last visit, when he asked about ordering stronger meds and triage supplies, it hit you just how much his long absences affect you. And just the thought of never seeing him or his little boy again stirs up something vile inside.
βYou seem to be busy today,β he remarks, pointing out all the open jars and mixing bowls with various dried leaves and herbs.
His remark takes you out of your thoughts. You must've been silent a second too long for him to change the subject like that. With a deep inhale and slight embarrassment you shrug off the negative thoughts and ground yourself back to reality.
βYes and no. Iβve been restocking while itβs dead to keep busy.β
He leans in a bit to get a closer look at the contents of the bowl. Close enough for you to catch the scent of smoke and musk on his clothes.
βYouβre mixingβ¦ tea?β
You hum a yes and nod.
βTea can be used for lots of medicinal purposes. Many people prefer natural remedies to pharmaceutical ones. I try to have a mix of both.β
βSo this is medicine?β You sway your head to the side, trying to think of the best way to explain the purpose of the tea.
βKiiind of. You could say itβs preventative.β
βWhat does it prevent?β
βPregnancy.β
A clearing of his throat follows your answer. You turn toward him with a smirk and a raised brow but his visor has now turned away your face.
Most fearsome bounty hunter in the outer rim, everybody.
βYou asked, man,β you chuckle with a shrug.
βGuess thatβs on me,β he says.
βThis is actually one of my best sellers,β you tell him. You grab the wooden scoop and raise up the floral mix, letting the various petals and herbs rain back down into the bowl. The motion makes the sweet scent drive up in the air. βI have customers tell me they donβt leave the house before their daily brew.β
βIβm glad business is going well for you,β he deflects, making you fold your smile in your teeth. And suddenly your brain sees a prime opportunity.
βYou know, Mandoβ¦,β you drawl as you mix the petals. βIf youβre ever in a pinch and you need some, I could give you a sample.β The way his helmet jerks to face you almost breaks your nonchalant smile.
βThatβs umβ¦ very generous but itβd be wasted on me.β His body straightens stiffly and you can tell the topic makes him a bit uneasy. But you press on anyway.
βYou sure? You can never be too safe. Iβm sure any visitors would appreciate it.β He sighs deeply and turns away, shaking his head in annoyance.
God, this is too much fun. Teasing him is so easy. If it wasnβt for the helmet you bet heβs sweating right now. He might look cool and collected. But after drinking with him, you know thereβs in fact a man under all that metal.
βIβm sure,β Mando confirms. βI'm not seeing anyone at the moment.β
And thereβs the answer youβre looking for.
Was it a bit sneaky? Yeah. Yeah, it was sneaky. But it rules out the theory that reason he told you not to invite home again was because heβs currently taken. Itβs still an enigma as to why. But honestly thereβs still the gut feeling that you did something to make him uncomfortable that night.
Maybe you crossed a line with one of your questions. You tend to ask a lot of questions. Your filter also isnβt everybodyβs flavor. Even so, you had a great time talking, even joking around with him. Youβve come to cherish that night in your memory. And the thought that you obliviously mightβve said something to offend Mando in any way makes your chest ache.
But if that was the case then why has he been stopping by your store more frequently since then? He always says heβs restocking his med kit but you get the feeling thereβs more to it than that. Almost as if heβs checking up on you. Making sure youβre doing ok. And above all, thatβs what scares you.
Itβs scares you how good that thought makes you feel.
βPicking up an order!β An unfriendly voice bellows from the entrance where a Trandoshan man in fine robes stands waiting. βNameβs Samir Tβar.β
It takes a second to snap back into action. But you slap on your best customer service smile and leave your task for later. Rounding the corner past Mando and the kid and walking to the Medicine Cabinet. Wiping the non-existent dust on your hands on your waist apron.
βHi, yes! Iβll grab that for you right now.β
The Trandoshan stands waiting at the counter as you sort through the assorted orders in the glass case. Looking for the right name tag and plucking the tied linen bag. You dont turn your eyes toward him, but Mandoβs pressance is all your body is aware of. You can tell heβs miandering through the shop, looking at various items on the shelves. Which, to you, is a bit funny since hes been here plenty of times by now.
Is he playing the curious customer right now because thereβs someone here?
You rest the tied bag next to the register as you run the total. All while the Trandoshan taps his clawed fingers impatiently on the check out counter.
ββKay with the compounded medicine and the herbal soak salts, that puts you atβ¦ fifteen credits today.β
βIt was twelve the last time.β
βYyyeesss, some of the ingredients for the meds were hard to come by this time around. Outer rim shipping routes, and all that,β you smile, trying to humorously reason with the man.
βAnd thatβs supposed to be my fault? Just make it the same price as before and Iβll be on my way already.β
Ugh, great. One of those.
βI understand where youβre coming from, really. But fifteen is pretty fair considering the initial cost of acquiring ingredients of this high quality. Canβt beat the price compared to those New Republic clinics-"
βNonononono," he waves with both hands in disapproval. βIβm not paying a single credit more for something I can make myself.β
Thatβs kind of the point of it buying here, right? To save yourself the trouble of making it?
βSorry. Price is firm," you say confidently but kindly. "Buuut, how about if I throw in a couple sample heating pain patches. Free of charge,β you chirp, unfazed by his condescension.
Work with me, guy. Thereβs a man packing heat in the backβ¦
βHow about I give you ten for the order and leave? I donβt need you to peddle your-β
Itβs a hand that shuts him up. Not yours, as much as it twitches to swipe that bag and toss in it the trash. No. This hand is big. Leather clad. And planted firmly on the counter between you and the customer.
βYou can pay the fifteen or you can leave. But what you wonβt do,β Mando leans in towards the Trandoshan for effect. β-is talk to her like that again. Make your choice.β
With his chest pressed to the back of your shoulder, you struggle to not squirm. You can feel his heat on your body. His frame eclipses yours from behind. The smell of gun smoke and musk caresses your nose and you die a little inside. But itβs his words that make you want to melt into a puddle.
He didnβt just ask, he demanded for you to be treated with respect. Not that you canβt hold your own when it comes to defending yourself against snarky customers. But the way Mando didnβt even hesitate to intervene on your behalf. It stirs up all sorts of thoughts.
Oh maker, you really are a shitty person. The man stands up for you and all you can think about is how hot he sounded.
The Trandoshan swallows hard. Mando might as well a knife to the guyβs throat with the look of silent terror on his reptilian face. Without even breaking eye contact with Mando, he stuffs his clawed hand in his pockets, and pulls about 20 credit chips without counting. Letting them clatter on the counter as he tosses them.
βH-here,β he stutters. βFifteen is fair.β With that he snatches his order from the countertop and makes a hasty exit.
βHave a nice day~,β you sing-song as he scurries out onto the street.
You shift your eyes up to Mando, his palm still pressed flat against the counter with his other hand thumbing his belt. His visor follows the customer as he leaves and you can tell that his body language doesnβt relax until the heβs completely out of sight.
βFuckerβ¦,β he mutters under his breath. When he finally turns his visor to you, he finds a knowing little smirk on your face.
βWhat?β
βYou know, if you really wanted to scare him, you couldβve just pulled out your blaster.β
His visor turns away and he takes a step back as if heβs been caught doing something out of character. And if it wasnβt for his confident stance, youβd almost say he got a little flustered just now.
βI didnβt like the way he spoke you,β he grumbles. Which only makes you giggle.
βYouβre right,β you agree with a serious tone. Slamming your palms on the counter. βThatβs the last straw! Iβll have to close and resort to a life of crime after all!β
Although you canβt read his face, his body language says it all. He tilts his head to the side in a way that can only mean βare you fucking kidding meβ and it only makes you smile harder.
βCβmooon, itβs funny,β you say. But heβs still not charmed.
βDoes he always treat you like that,β he asks like he needs to know for certain.
You fold your lips between your teeth to hide your smile. Heβs concerned for you and you canβt help but bathe in it. At least for a little bit.
βAnd if I said yes?β
βIβm being serious.β
βItβs fine, Mando. Itβs really not a big deal for me. Look, if I let every snippy customer get to me, I wouldnβt have a business. Iβm a big girl. I can fight for my honor all on my own, donβt you worry.β
βThatβs not the point.β
βYeah? What is your point then?β
He steps in closer. Forcing you crane your neck to face him. Your backside unconsciously presses against the back of the counter and youβre pinned. Heβs impossibly close. Close enough to see your eyes reflected on the inky black screen. Knowing heβs captured your full attention, he hits you with a bombshell that devastates you.
βI wouldnβt let anyone disrespect you when I can do something about it,β he says crystal clear, loweringΒ his voice. βIf someone gives you trouble, theyβll deal with me before they mess with you... Understand?β
That shuts you right up. Your playful expression falls, now replaced with silent astonishment. He keeps saying things that reach deep inside you, making your chest tight. Words like that make it hard to breathe.
You feel utterly captured and itβs no wonder he was the best hunter in the outer rim. Because even though heβll defend your honor and call you sweet nicknamesβ¦ all he has to do is stand his ground in front of you to make you feel like prey. And fuck, do you wanna be caughtβ¦
βOk,β you breathe when you find the courage. βI understand now.β
βGoodβ¦β
Silence streches between you and it feels as though youβre both waiting for something to happen. Something that feels like itβs been teetering on the edge since the night you drank together. Itβs connected and deep in a way youβve never experienced before. You can tell itβs something heβs afraid to say out loud.
What youβre both afraid to say out loud.
He doesnβt move. Doesnβt add anything to his statement. Heβs got you locked in his gaze with no escape. And for a moment you wonder if heβll take hold of your jaw again. Goosebumps rise to your skin because it wants so badly to close the gap.
Suddenly, a call rings from the vambrace on Mandoβs forearm, abruptly breaking the tension. At first he hesitates to address it, still locked onto you. But after the second ring he lets out an aggravated sigh and steps away to check the incoming call.
You walk back to your work table and mixing bowl of tea to give yourself something to do while your breathing returns to normal. Scooping a measured cup from a large jar of dried leaves before adding it in.
Grogu sits with his little feet dangling over the table, now finished with the lollipop and looking at the candy-less stick with droopy ears. And before Mando turns to look, you sneak his son another herbal lollipop from your apron.
"Don't tell your dad," you whisper, pressing your index finger over your lips. Which earns you a happy little "Batu" in understanding.
Mando is pacing around now. Conversing with a gruff sounding Lasat. You donβt eavesdrop per se, but words like βnew leadβ, βinvestigationβ, and βhigh-riskβ get your ears to perk up.
βShit,β he sighs deeply once the call is done. Planting his hands on his hips.
βWork call?β
βThey like to keep me busy, thatβs for sure. Best not keep them waiting.β
βR-right! The pharmakits."
You walk towards side of your shop in the back closet where your new inventory sits in their delivery crates. Grabbing one case but then after a second thought grabbing another before turning back and handing them to Mando. When you return Grogu is already back in his father's tote still nursing his treat.
βCouple things," you disclaim, handing the cases to him. "Keep these in a dark cool place if you can. Heat can spoil some of the medicine. And if you ever find yourself needing the epibacta, Iβd advise you to take in a safe place. This dose will knock you out cold for a while. Emergencies only.β
He takes the cases by the handles and gives you a nod of understanding.
βI appreciate it. Iβll try to avoid needing it.β
βJustβ¦ be safe.β
βI willβ¦β
Another beat of silence. At this point it's starting to feel like you're waiting on the other person to break the ice. But after a moment, he clears his throat.
βWell... Until next time, Shop Girl.β
βUntil next time,β you repeat.
He really should stop calling you that. But you just canβt bring yourself to stop him. What do even tell him if he asks why?
You turn to the holopad on the front counter and check the inventory list to give your hands something to do. Chewing your bottom lip as walks towards the exit. One step, then anotherβ¦
βAnd thank you,β you quickly add before he steps out. His foot stalls just before reaching the street and you tap on the screen pretending not to notice. Your eyes glance up to him, catching his helmet peer at you over his shoulder ββ¦for stepping in.β
βAnytime,β he says softly. He step out into the street and you exhale a breath you didnβt know you were holding. You lean on the counter with your chin propped in your palm, now free to watch them go without notice.
Grogu turns back to look at you one last time, his tiny arm fighting against the fabric of his bag before popping out and waving at you. The adorable gesture makes you giggle. The little guy must know exactly how stinking cute he is. You wiggle your fingers back at him from behind the counter. Mando takes notice of his kid, turns his head back, and finds your gaze.
For a moment, everythingβs frozen. People cross and mix in the street between you. Life seemingly goes on like any other day for everyone in town. But in your eyes, thereβs only him. Only bright silver fills your vision. After a moment, Mando raises a hand for a final farewell, and in the next, heβs gone. Blended into the crowd.
An ache spreads in your chest, and that confirms it. You canβt deny that what youβve been pushing down for months isnβt just an attraction. Strangers can be attracted to each other but he feels like anything but.
You like him. You like how you feel when heβs around and how safe his presence feels. You like that little skipped beat you get when something you said earns even the smallest chuckle from him. You like that he trusts you around his kid.
And you love that he keeps coming back.
Youβve tried to rationalize as just a simple customer acquaintance. But you canβt keep kidding yourself. Its always felt more than that. And you want to know more about him.
At the end of the day, you roll down the metal doors of your humble apothecary and walk the same 15 steps up to your home as you do everyday. You bathe, put on your most comfy shirt and sleep shorts, make yourself a simple meal, and wind down for the night. Itβs been your routine everyday since you made this place your home.
Only tonight, despite all your trinkets, all your memories, and all your comforts, tonight your home feels a bit empty. Like something important has been removed and you canβt place what it was. With your dinner bowl in hand, you almost take your seat on the couch before thinking twice on it and choosing the floor of your living room instead tonight.
You actually find it to be pretty comfortable. More grounding. You only wish you had something warm to lean back on.
β’
Din thought Guild Master Greef Karga had an inflated ego. But High Magistrate Greef Karga makes that Karga look like a Jedi monk.
He finds himself sitting on a leather chase with his legs propped on the window ledge in Kargaβs high tower office. He watches him spread and maneuver a 3D hologram model of Nevarro and the town. His voice filled with ambition as he explains all his new projects for the upcoming year.
βWeβll put the lodges here, here, and here. Theyβll have access to the hot springs in the crawling canyons and docks will be built around the water edges. Iβve spoken with that lovely Twiβlek bathhouse owner and sheβs spending her best architects to Nevarro as a personal favor to me. Itβs going to be the jewel of the rim I tell you!β
Much of the dialog goes over Dins head. Mostly because heβs dead tired and currently operating on less than four hours of sleep. They only landed a couple hours ago from another grueling mission. He partly listens to Kargaβs plans, partly watches Grogu quietly sit on the hologram table as he stuffs his mouth with blue cookies his βuncleβ has given him. But mostly, Din gazes out one of the many windows in his 360 degree office. Watching the sun set over the canyons and turn the sky a dusty pink.
The shiny bronze protocol droid shuffles around the office with a silver tray with two crystal glasses of spotchka. He offers a glowing glass to Karga who gladly takes it. Then the droid starts to approach Din with the platter, offering him a glass as well.
βUh no no, he doesnβt drink,β Karga quickly corrects, taking a momentary pause from his plans. The shiny droid fumbles a bit, flustered, then offers an apology before scuttling away with the tray.
Mando doesnβt even bother to correct them. Too much energy. Itβs true, heβs never accepted alcohol in front of Karga. Especially in those early guild days when trust was low. But even to this day, Din doesnβt drink around people.
Well⦠most people, that is.
An image of last time Din saw you pops into his head. That thick, slightly mussed hair tied up with a hair stick. Dewy skin. All smiles and laughter. You wore a deep blue torso wrap that time, His eyes kept following the lines of your collar bones and all that exposed skin seemed to glow in the reflected sunlight in the shop.
And those lips. Those goddamn pink tinted lips that he canβt get out of his head. If thatβs not the definition of beauty he doesnβt know what is.
Your teasing is something heβs growing used to. But that day you pushed too far. You werenβt taking him seriously and you shouldnβt be the only one who gets to tease, right? When he cornered you against the counter, he made it known just how serious he was about defending you. That flush came back to your cheeks and your breathing had picked up. You had no idea, but your eyes had found his and it made heat pool in his lower abdomen as he got lost in the color of them.
In that moment, Din wrestled back the impulse to lift you up on that countertop, spread those perfect legs and-
β-Right, Mando?β Kargaβs voice interrupts just as that train of thought was getting good. Din turns his visor over to him.
βHmm?β
βYou just agreed to let the kid spend the night here.β
βRight. Yeah,β Din scoffs. βWas that before or after I sold my ship to the Jawas,β he replies in a gruff tone. Karga doesnβt find the sarcasm amusing.
βAlright, alright.β
βMaybe Iβll sell them my armor while Iβm at it.β
βI get it,β he exclaims. βYou werenβt even listening! I was talking about the space port proposal and I canβt even tell where you clocked out. That's not like you, Mando.β
βIβm tired. I just got back from a long trip.β Kargas eyes glance between Din and the window he's been looking out from.
βI wouldnβt say tired. More likeβ¦ Distracted.β
He says the word with an insinuation Din would rather do without.
βItβs nothing,β he deflects.
βHey, you know me, Mando. Iβm not one to judge,β Karga says, throwing his hands in the air. βIf thereβs anything on your mind Iβm all ears. Money, politics, work, women-β
βThereβs nothing to discuss. Iβm fine," Din deadpans.
Kargas covers Grogus ears, who is too preoccupied by his munching to mind.
βSounds like you need to get laid.β
Maker...
βYouβre sordid,β he grumbles, shaking his head and turning back to the window. Karga just laughs. Amusement written all over his wrinkled face.
The arguments were one of the main things that changed between them over the last few years. Now they bicker like two old friends instead of two business associates. But one thing that has never changed is the way Karga tries to pressure him into revealing things out of him. Imperfectly human things.
Heβd offer Din all sorts of things like spice or Twiβlek bathhouses just to see if he was capable of being tempted. And right nowβ¦ thereβs only one other person Din can think of capable of doing that.
βYou know what I think? I think youβre starting to outgrow this lone wolf lifestyle of yours,β he speculates. βYouβre a father now. Donβt you think the little one needs a mother?β
Dins helmet swivels back to Karga.
βDonβt you think you should stick to governing your town?β
βI was just getting to that," Karga exclaims excitedly. "You know we really should consider moving a few of the-β
βHere we goβ¦,β Din sighs to himself.
What shouldβve been a quick visit has turned into a one sided yap session. Itβs been a couple weeks since he left and heβs eager to re-supply for his next run with Zeb. Heβll need to head to the square at some point as well. His home is in desperate need of a re-stock. And of course, a visit to the clinic probably wouldnβt be a bad idea if heβs already in the area.
Even from up here, your store can be seen at the far corner of the plaza. And every couple minutes, he can see you. Popping in and out of the small store and rearranging some of the potted plants outside. People greet you from the street and you turn to wave back.
Itβs getting harder and harder to find excuses to go there that sound necessary. Last time he was there he picked up two new pharmakits, even though another two regular medkits sit unopened in his home. Heβs been buying that energy tea you make, despite him being a kaf drinker his whole life. He keeps going back for shit he really doesnβt need. But if he was pressed to give a better reason, itβs mostly because he feels a need to check on you.
True, Nevarro has become significantly safer, but that doesnβt make it safe. Especially for a woman living completely on her own. Youβre a kind hearted, giving person in a galaxy that does nothing but take. And someone like that should be protected. Heβs looked the other way too many times in the past and he doesnβt want to be that person anymore. And plus the kid enjoys the visits.
Sure, the kid. Keep telling yourself that, Dinβ¦
A chiss man with a floating pallet of goods approaches your shop entrance and your attention turns from watering the plants to greet the vendor with a bright smile. You speak animately. And it would normally be endearing, if it wasn't directed towards another man. In the privacy of his helmet, Din grimmaces.
He shouldnβt be surprised. Youβre well traveled, knowledgeable. Itβs no wonder youβre able to buy products from so many places. But this particular vendor is getting a bit too close for Dinβs comfort.
As usual, you talk with much enthusiasm. Sparking a conversation with the man. Itβs clear youβre familiar with each other by the body language you both give off. And heβs not sure if itβs because you regularly get inventory from the man, or something beyond that.
You turn around on the balls of your feet to dip back inside the shop and as you do youβre completely oblivious to the way the Chissβs head tilts to the side so his crimson eyes can roam your backside. And the only reason Din caught it was because the binocs in his visor seem to have unconsciously been turned on by his finger on his vambrace.
You return to with a small wooded box and open the lid to show him mineral salts, the kind heβs seen you make herbal soaks with. The vendor offers a large lidded glass jar of some kind of dried purple flower buds from his cart. With the added exchange of some credit chips, thereβs more talking and smiling. Something he said makes you laugh as you sign his holopad and Din has to flex his fingers to stop them from clenching into a fist.
Enough. Stop watching.
The mental check forces Dins attention to shift back to whatever Karga keeps droning on about. You can associate with whoever you damn well please. Itβs none of his concern who you do business with or what your personal life is like. Din nearly turns his visor away. But out of the furthest corner of his eye, he catches something he canβt tear away from.
The distance between the Chiss and you has suddenly shrunk. The moment unfolds in slow motion as his eyes chew on every second. The Chiss steps closer to lean down thenβ¦
Dinβs arms uncross when the Chiss leans in close to your face. And before he knows it, the fucker plants a quick peck on your cheek. And you return it! The whole exchange lasts less than a second before you wave each other goodbye and he goes his separate way. You return inside with the product like nothing and Din sits there, completely rattled.
What⦠the fuck?
Was it a casual kiss? Did you even know that he was checking you out? If you did, was that a friendly goodbye gesture or was it flirtatious? That son of a bitch gets to walk around with bliss on his cheek all day now. Oddly enough, thatβs what puts Din over the edge. A complete fucking stranger knows how your lips feel and he doesnβt.
Never in his life has he harbored thoughts like these. Itβs downright pathetic. He feels corrupted.
βFuck it,β he growls to himself beneath his breath.
β-Anyway, back to my point. I was considering having a port built for- hey!β
Before Karga has a chance to monologue further, Din has picked up his son from the edge of the deskβgrubby hands still clinging to the bag of cookiesβand has placed him right into Karga arms.
βI need you to watch over him for the night. Iβll come back for him in the morning.β
βOkay then? Fine by-.β Din doesnβt bother to listen because thereβs no ending to that sentence that matters to him in this moment. He makes his exit, the slide doors opening as he nears them.
βHey! Where do you think youβre going all puffed up like that?β
βI need to settle something,β he tosses back before letting the doors shut behind him.
The sun is getting low and a few other vendors are starting to take down their signs and close their doors. Youβre probably getting ready to close up for the day yourself. Hopefully heβs able to catch you before then.
Each step on the cobblestone is heavy with purpose. And it's not unoticed the way several people on the street see an armor clad Mandalorian and scurry out of his way with a petrified look on their faces. But right now he doesn't particularly care. Right now everything in his head is clouded with the exception of one objective.
From a couple stores away, you catch him approaching from your peripheray. And he's not sure how to describe it, but it's like something in your body language softens when you see him. Your shoulders become less tense, your eyes gleam, and you cast him that bright toothy smile that could stop any man's heart.
βAh! Hey! Itβs been a while, Mando! Howβs-β
βI need to have a word with you.β
Both your expression and your hand freeze momentarily in place, minus a suspicious quirk in your brow.
βOkaaay, you have my attention,β you chuckle, but thereβs a nervous tone riding on it. βWhat can I do for you today?
βI need to speak with you," you tells you bluntly. "Privately.β
Confusion paints across your face and your smile falls a bit. Understanding how serious his request is.
βLike, right now,β you ask hesitantly.
βPreferably, yes,β he answers.
βOk, yeah sure. Umβ¦ Iβm just about to close up and we can head upstairs in a minute.β You start to turn away but then quickly turn back to him and immediately add βor we can go somewhere youβre more comfort-β
βItβs fine,β Din quickly interjects, stopping that train of thought. βThis wonβt take long anyway.β
You blink at him a couple times and give him a quiet βok thenβ before turning around and preparing your shop to close.
Seems that Dinβs command from his last visit was taken seriously. Regret over those words washes over him. If heβs being honest, being inside your home again sets off several red lights in his head. But heβs already on the verge of blurting out something teetering on the edge of his brain. Better to wait until heβs behind closed doors and away from any prying eyes. Or flirtatious vendors. This shouldnβt be complicated. Heβll make it quick.
He decides to wait around the corner of the shop where the stone steps meet your front door. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed and his finger nervously tapping his arm brace. After a few minutes you round the corner with your bag over your shoulder and lead the way into your home. Instinctively, he looks around for any eyes before entering and closing the door behind him.
βSo whereβs your boy,β you ask, tossing your bag on the couch and walking towards the kitchen. βI have to say Iβm kind of surprised not to see him on your hip. You seem inseparable.β
Your voice is chipper but he can tell by your stiff body and lack of eye contact that youβre not entirely comfortable. For a moment Din reconsiders this encounter. But no. The sooner he this bug out of his system the better.
βHeβsβ¦ spending the night with a friend,β he answers. Grabbing one of those ceramic cups from the cabinet, you fill it with water from the sink and heβs starting to think that youβre only doing that to keep your hands busy.
βAaww, a sleepover? Is it his first-β
βIf you donβt mind,β he cuts off. βIβd like to get to my point.β
βOhβ¦ Y-yes, I'm sorry. Iβm rambling,β you say sheepishly. βIβm justβ¦,β you take a deep breath, rest the cup of water on the counter, and lean back against it. Eyes fixed to the floor.
ββ¦itβs just what you said the last time you were here. And the way you approached me earlier, you seemed kindaβ¦ I donβt know, upset? I know you donβt wanna be here so Iβm wondering what I did to upset you that youβd come here.β
Damn itβ¦ Heβs such an asshole.
He shouldβve never said that. You've been thinking this entire time that youβre at fault for his shitty social skills. Truthfully, with the way that wine had his head so deliciously foggy, he had to leave before his body did something it was aching to do, begging him to do. But how does he even begin to explain that?
βYou didnβt do anything,β he answers immediately. But thinks on it once more. βWellβ¦ technically you did. But Iβm not upset with you.β
βYouβre not,β you ask him sheepishly.
βIβm not,β he assures.
A beat passes in silence as you chew over his words.
βOkaaay,β you say with a smirk, βnow you really got my attention.β
That mischievous tone travels through Dinβs helmet, in his ears, and settles warmly in the pit of his stomach. Something about the combination of your sweet voice and relaxed shift in your body language makes this whole interaction even more nerve wracking.
βSooo, you wanted to talk to me about something I did?β
βRight.β
βOkay, sooo...β He feels you urging him to continue but now Din finds himself more cautious of his words now. If youβve been silently worried about offending him the last thing he needs is for this to come off wrong way.
βItβsβ¦ a bit hard to explain,β he exhales. If he could pinch his brow right now he would. βTo put it plainly, the night we drank together, you said something thatβs beenβ¦ stuck in my head.β
βWas it the thing about the name?β
βN-no.β
βWas it the Pantora story?
βNo.β
βWas it the comment about knowing my liquor? Because I like a drink from time to time but I donβt have like a problem or anything-β
βNo- Can I finish,β he asks impatiently.
βOkay, okay. Sorry. Go ahead.β
βWhen we were drinking, and talkingβ¦ we said a lot of things and got into some deep conversations. And at one point, you asked me if I ever kissed anyone before. I said no back then becauseβ¦ I've never given it any thought in the past. But now itβs got meβ¦ curious.β
Your quirk your brow at him.
βCurious how?β
βI want to know what itβs like,β he answers plainly.
ββ¦ Sorry, what?β
βI need thisβ¦ curiosity out of my head. Itβs driving me crazy and I need it out of my system. So I figuredβ¦ since youβre the one who mentioned it in the first place, you can help me kill it.β
βYouβreβ¦ Okay so, hold onβ¦,β you say with a shaky breath. βAre youβ¦ asking me to kiss you?β
βThatβsβ¦ an oversimplification. But yeah.β
βYouβre asking me to be your first kiss? Am I understanding you right?β
Maker, you ask a lot of questions. Are you always like this? You did the same exact thing when he gave you the wine. On any other day it wouldβve been endearing but he didnβt anticipate the conversation lasting longer than a minute. Now his request sounds more and more lecherous with each passing second.
βI wonβt bother you again after this. You have my word. Itβs completely casual. Just killing a curiosity.β
βThereβs a preeetty common phrase about curiosity and loth cats that goes differently.β A giggle tumbles out of your mouth on the tail end of that sentence and humility crawls under his skin.
βSorry to waste your time.β He starts to turn towards the nearest exit when you step in to stop him. Placing a hand briefly on his arm in the space between his armor and the contact sends a current of electricity up his spine.
βNo wait, donβt be like that,β you toy with him.
βIβm not laughing,β he spits. But you still have the nerve to giggle.
βItβs okay, Mando,β you laugh assuredly.
βNo, itβs not. Itβs ridiculous. I hate it. I hate that you put this in my head.β
You fold your lips between your teeth to try to hide your amusement. But you still canβt help but crack a smile a little at his frustration. He basically just confessed to having this obsession for months and he can tell by your smug expression that youβre enjoying how incredibly uncomfortable he is about this.
βYouβre right. Iβmβ¦ sorry,β you say under your breath. Trying to fix your face.
Thereβs a beat of silence. Stepping in closer, he tilts his head down to you. Locking you in his gaze. He takes pleasure in being nearly a full head taller and the way your breathing picks up before he says in a low gruff voiceβ¦
βNo, youβre not.β
You smile behind your hand as your eyes dance across his visor, unknowingly locking eyes with the man beneath. You know youβre not sorry, just like he knows heβs not particularly sorry either. Itβs not just this moment. It goes back to every interaction youβve had together. The banter, the nicknames, the visits. Heβs as much to blame as you are. And thenβ¦ you slowly you shake your head, agreeing with him and confirming his suspicion.
Fuck, youβre cute. He hates that he loves how cute you are. He hates himself for not being stronger.
βOk,β you nearly whisper. Looking up at him with the sweetest eyes. βIβll help you.β
β’
βIs all this really necessary?β
Din currently sits on the floor of your living room. The same spot as last time in fact. Your were the one that insisted on it and honestly he couldn't bring himself to tell you no. Since he sat down in the soft carpet, you've been flitting around your home turning off lamps, closing blinds, and covering any reflective items. Which, admittedly, he's greatful for. But the more time he spends here, alone with you, the more he's not going to want to leave.
βItβs not everyday you get your first kiss, Mando. I wanna make sure itβs a good one. I wish I could re-do mine.β
Gloves fingers flex and stretch restlessly on his knees as you approach the last lamp sitting on a side table in the living room and pause.
βAre you sure about this?β
Fuck no heβs not. But the sooner he does this, the sooner he can find some normalcy in his head again.
βFlip the switch," he says in a low modulated voice.
You fold in a growing smile before taking a deep breath and flicking the switch. Bathing the entire home in inky darkness. The silhouette of you through turns to hues of thermal green and red, carefully maneuvering through your living room by memory before finding your seat in the floor in front of him. And with slight hesitation, Din reaches up to remove the last barrier he has.
βCan you see anything?β
βNot a bit,β you answer.
With that confirmation, he unclasps the chin strap and slowly lifts the helmet up and off. He blinks several times to adjust his vision before finding the outline of the table and placing his helmet there. On the return, his head bumps into your outstretched hand. Not knowing that you had moved.
βAgh.β
βSorry sorry,β you pull away. βGive me a moment, Iβll find you.β
Your hands search in the dark for him. He canβt see much but he can tell your hands land on nothing by the way the air between you moves and he doesnβt feel any contact on his person. So he reaches out, bumping into your arms and taking hold of them. Following the line of your forearm until he reaches your hands.
βHere,"Β he murmurs. Gloved hands wrap around your wrists and gently lift them up. He guides your hands forward untilβ¦
You let out a small gasp when your hands find the warmth of his bare face. Soft and giving as opposed to the cold, unyielding beskar. Their movements are slow and explorative. Running your thumbs over his stubble. Surprisingly his hands donβt release their grasp. His leather clad digits press against the racing pulse in your wrist as his thumbs run over the back of your palm.
βThis help?β
βYes, thank you,β you whisper.
From sound of rustling on the rug, Din can sense your body leaning in. Your breath brushes over his skin for a moment before something warm presses against his chin and it takes a second to register that itβs your mouth. You ease him into the build up and heβs greatfull for it. Jaw. Then cheek. Then just grazing the furthest corner of his mouth.
And then⦠contact.
At first it doesnβt feel like much. Just something soft and warm pressing against his mouth. What most people refer to as a peck, he assumes. But itβs when you barely pull back and return for another that a shiver wracks his skin. Your lips lock in the return, molding together in perfect unison. And itβs fucking electric.
Just by feel alone, he senses that your lips are slightly open. So he mimics you. Giving his jaw just enough slack to respond as you go in again. The sensations have his mind in a thick fog. The soft flesh, the sweet taste, the faint suction. His skin feels like thereβs live wires going off underneath. Giving in completely, he finally returns the kiss. Pressing into it with more confidence.
You hum against his mouth, and he dies a little inside.
Thatβs when the real hunger builds. Thereβs a slow simmering heat rising between you now. Without thinking, his hands grip your wrists a little harder. Pulling you in closer. The kiss grows a bit stronger with each return back into each other with no loss of contact. Lingering longer and breathing against one another.
He feels your head tilt more to the side and again he mimics your movement. The break only lasts a fraction of a moment. But in the re-entry, the tip of your soft tongue happens to brush his mouth. Sweet wetness coats his bottom lip and itβs in that instant Din feels all restraint leave his body.
Taking your face in his hand, he kisses you open mouthed, inviting you in. Your tongues slowly graze one another and if he fucking died in this moment heβd be ok with it knowing that he got to know how you taste.
The hunger becomes unbearable. Soon enough the breathing becomes heavier and the air becomes hot. Your arms end up wrapping over his shoulders, pulling him deeper and heβs more than happy to dive further. Another small noise escapes your throat and the vibration travels through his entire body.
He needs to feel you. To taste you. Devour you. He needs you.
A break for air is the only thing that throws him back into semi-consciousness as you pull away. The heat built up between you makes him dazed. Hot breaths fill the small space between your lips as you lean your forehead against his.
βMando?β
βYes,β he responds in a raspy whisper. A few moments pass as you collect your words and catch your breath.
βIs this really just about curiosityβ¦?β
Your words lean more towards a statement than a question. Thereβs no point in denying it now. As much as he tried to convince himself or rationalize his strange request, he does feel a pull towards you. Much more complicated than just attraction. The more he sees you, learns about you, and talks with you, the moreβ¦ inevitable you feel to him. Thereβs a gravity to you that he canβt escape from. Nor does he want to.
βYes and no.β
βWhat does that mean?β The breath of your question brushes the heated skin of his cheek. And right now, he can't think of any answer that wouldn't give him up.
So he lets it fly.
βItβs not just the kiss Iβm curious about.β
The silence in the air is thick. The only thing between you are the sounds of both of you catching your breath. Itβs possible he might have ruined everything with that one sentence. But itβs the truth. It had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with you. Your kindness, your banter, your hospitality. All of it.
Thereβs no way of telling what youβre thinking at the right now. Itβs in this moment that he wishes the lights werenβt out so he can at least read your expression. But then after what seems like an eternity, your forehead nudges against his and you blow a deep sigh of relief. Arms still draped over his shoulders.
βOh goodβ¦ I thought it was only me,β you confess with a skittish laugh.
And that tightly pulled restraint finally snaps inside him when he hears that.
Without any hesitation, he dives back in. Kissing you like a man starved. Just like that night, he feels drunk. Only this time itβs on the taste of you and the feeling of your hands finally on him. Itβs that thought that drives him to rip off his leather gloves and toss them aside without breaking contact once. His bare hands find your waist and the strip of bare skin between your shirt and linen pants.
βIs this what you meant,β you pant. βWhen you told me not to invite you in again.β
βYeah... it is.β He pants the confession as his mouth trails down the line of your jaw and finding your neck in the dark.
βThatβs a relief,β you chuckle. βI was worried I offended you.β
βThe only thing thatβs offensive is that I canβt see that pretty pink flush on your face right now.β
βShould I get a blindfold,β you tease.
What a fucking woman. The mental image of you in a blindfold, only a blindfold, pours fuel on an already blazing fire. But for now, heβs more than ok feeling his way around tonight.
βNext time.β
It comes out of his mouth confidently and without hesitation. Because you both know there will be a next time. Heβs bitten into the forbidden fruit and now heβs addicted to the taste.
With a simple shift, his hands dip beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and find the delicious heat of your soft belly.
"Lay down for me."
With your arms draped over his shoulders, you eagerly comply. Slowly dragging him down with you. He careful not to press all his weight on youβbeing crushed by beskar would definitely kill the moodβbut it doesn't stop you from pulling tighter. Craving connection. All while Din rains wet kisses and soft bites upon your pulse.
So this is what your skin tastes like. Slightly salty, sweet, and smooth between his teeth. He might eat you whole if heβs not careful. He nips at the skin of your exposed collar bone and you writhe. Arching to press your chest to his. So he decides to give it some attention.
βTake it off," you pant with an neediness that drives him pull the damn shirt off in one swift motion.
His bare hand crawls up your sternum. Exploring the valley of soft skin free of any restricting fabric. The moment his fingers find the stiff peak of your bare breast he pinches eagerly. Earning the sweetest little whimpers from you as his mouth works on the other nipple. Biting and sucking the soft point. He canβt see a thing in the dark, but whatβs lacking in sight is made up by sound with the delicious breathy moans you let out for him.
βMandoβ¦β
Fuck, does he love the way you call out for him. Every touch, kiss, andΒ suck he gives elicites the most gorgeous sounds out of that perfect mouth. The sounds to straight to his cock, now painfully stiff. It's tempting to just dive into you right now. But he's waited this long. So why not take his sweet time with you. With his face still burried between your breasts and you fingers raking through his hair, Din feels a press of your hips against his armor. And he needs more.
βShop Girlβ¦β
The nickname doesnβt catch your attention. Youβre either too lost in the moment or too breathless to answer. Itβs only when he uses your given name that your body perks up and you give him a raspy βyeah?β.
βDo you want this," he asks.
His right hand has found its way to the waist band of your work pants. Ready and waiting for your answer. You try to grind against his hips but he presses your hips down firmly. He knows damn well neither of you want to stop. But he needs to hear it. There's no going back after this.
"Is this ok?"
He doesn't know if you're unsure. Or if maybe your trying to meet his eyes through the darkness. But there's a long pause. Only the sounds of heavy breaths and the pulse beating hard in his ears. And every second that passes has him hanging on the edge of madness.
"Yes...," you finally breathe. "I need you."
She needs me.
The words leave him winded. Months of questions and pining suddenly feel well worth the wait just to hear those words. They not only affirm going further, but the bond that's been steadily growing between you. Not a single ounce of hesitation survives after he hears that. And with one hand, Din loosens the tie of your pants and dives in beneath the fabric of your underwear.
By feel alone, Din manages to pull your pants down to your thighs and you kick them off your feet. His hands roam over all the smooth exposed skin and he can only imagine how perfect you must look if you feel this good. The tips of his fingers finds the dampness between your legs, running along the seam, and he slowly pushes inside until his knuckles meet your entrance.
You release a soft gasp and he swallows it with a deep kiss. You both sigh into each other's mouth. As if you need the other to even breathe. Din's lips never leaves yours as he does an experimental curl against the fleshy part of your walls and you arch your body against his.
βThis where you need me," he huffs against your lips. "Right here?β
βRight there... Perfect..."
"I wanna taste you." The confession comes out before he can even think about it.
"Then taste me, Mando."
He can hear the smile in your voice. The taunt. And he's more than happy to reciprocate it.
He rises above you and you whine from the lack of contact. But the loss doesn't last long. Because before you even can register what he's doing, his head has already lowered between your legs.
"What are you- ah."
That gasp you let out when his mouth envelops your pussy is downright tortured. Good too know you were just as desperate as he was.
"Fuck! I thought you meant... You were gonna... Shit..."
No fucking way would he be satisfied tasting you on just his fingers.Β The sweet tangy flavor explodes over his tongue and he groans. Fucking hell, you taste good. He doesnβt even know what the hell heβs doing but thatβs sure as shit not stopping him. He drowns in you. Lapping and sucking on your swollen little bud and loving the way it makes you cry out. Two thick fingers pump into your wet heat as you melt in his mouth. Such a fucking treat.
You writhe beneath him. Squirming and clawing at anything to hold on to as he works you up. Eventually your hands finds his hair again. Taking a fistful and pressing his face further against your cunt. The sting on his scalp makes his cock twitch in his flight suit and he groans.
βYou want me to make you come, Shop Girl," he mumbles against you.
βYes.β
βSay it.β
βMake me come, Mando... Pleaseβ¦β
He doesn't break pace, doesn't falter, doesn't change a damn thing what he's doing because he can feel close to the edge you are. You tighten around his digits as the pump in and out. And with a firm suck on your clit you let out a strangled gasp.
"Oh Fuck! Fuck! Mando!"
Your breathing becomes short and shallow. Panting so hard right before holding your breath and tipping over the edge with a strangled cry. You come long and hard. Trembling so much he has to hold you steady by the hips.
Through the waves of your climax, Din continues to eat you. Lapping at your perfect pussy like it's wine and he doesn't waste a single drop of you. Even sucking and licking his fingers clean as you lay breathless before him. They come out of his mouth with a wet pop and he canβt help but let out a small breathy laugh.
βIβve always wanted to try thatβ¦β he confesses.
You let out your own exhausted little laugh and he can already tell he wants more. More laughter, more of those pretty sounds, more of you.
It's with that in mind that Din starts pulling his cape off.
Piece by peace, he silently removes his armor. And after a few moments, a second pair of hands joins in. You fumble in the dark with his chest piece first. Helping him out of his armor one section at a time. They fall to the carpet with a soft thud along with the crumbling pieces of the restraint heβs built since that first night.
Thereβs no signs of stopping. You keep giving him more. More heat. More yearning. More questions.
What makes you laugh? What gives you pleasure? What makes you feel good and whole and satisfied? He needs to know.
And now that heβs gotten a taste, thereβs no way heβs leaving here tonight until youβve both had your fill.
β’
If this is what happens when you invite the Mandalorian into your home, let your door never close.
Getting to your bed was easier than you thought itβd be in pitch black darkness. The only thing keeping your βbedroomβ separate from the rest of the home is a wooden lattice divider from the ceiling to the floor.
He lays you down on the soft futon on the floor and you open for him like a flower. Two strong palms drag and paw all over your body as his mouth works magic on yours and it makes you dizzy with desire.
Maker, heβs so good with his hands.
His body separates from you only to remove his flight suit and you whine at the loss of contact. Naked and panting for him. Within seconds heβs back on top of you and the feeling of his bare skin against yours makes your head spin. With everything so dark you wonder if this is even real. Maybe this is all a fever dream.
βAre you gonna show me how Mandalorians fuck this time,β you tease against his lips. Calling back to when he showed you how they drink. With your bare legs around his hips, you tease his resolve by running your inner thighs over his sides and youβre rewarded with a low hum. The hand supporting your neck slowly drags forward to find the base of your throat.
βYou donβt need to know how Mandalorians fuck.β His wide grip gently squeezes the sides of your throat, just enough for you to feel the power in those hands. βJust how I fuck.β
Holy shit. You thought him gripping your jaw was hot. But this? This mightβve awakened something you didnβt even knew you wanted.
A whimper escapes you only to be muted by his mouth again. His tongue swirls with yours with a hunger youβve never knew was there these past months and itβs such a relief to know that you werenβt the only one pining.
Mandoβs mouth travels to your cheek, then jaw, finally finding purchase on your neck. Biting and sucking as his body presses into yours. Heβs insatiable right now. There's no doubt that you'll find yourself covered in marks when the lights come back on.
Youβre so lost in the moment that you almost donβt notice when something hard and warm presses against your inner thigh. Out of nowhere, a thought you havenβt even considered before decides to pop into your head at the very last minute.
βH-hold on!β
Your hands find his shoulders, urging him to pause. His lips unlatch themselves from your neck the second you blurt it out. Instantly propping himself above you with his hands on either side of your head.
βYou want me to stop?,β he pants.
βNoβ¦ Hell no. Itβs justβ¦β
How do you even begin to ask this?
βUmβ¦ I know I probably shouldβve asked earlier butβ¦ youβre human, right?β
Mando blows out a low chuckle, understanding your underlying meaning. He feels human, from what your hands can tell anyway. He could be like his kid for all you know. Itβs not that youβre not willing to go Inter-species, but your experience is mainly human. Plus with the lights off itβd be pretty difficult to figure out fitting things.
Taking your hand from his shoulder, he presses it against his chest where you can feel a dusting of hair. His skin is hot, damp with a thin layer of sweat and his breathing is heavy. He continues to lead your hand further down his torso so you can feel every hill and valley of his muscles. Eventually your hand hits a trail of hair down the middle and thenβ¦
Oh shit.
His hand guides you along the length of his cock. Encouraging you to explore every ridge from the thick base all the way up to the damp tip. Heβs stiff and hot in your palm. When you give him a firm squeeze he groans and twitches in your grip.
Oh shit.
βDoes that answer your question?β
The human part, definitely. Fitting is still debatable.
He lets you handle him. Giving you free rein to tug and tease as he bucks into your hand. He groans with pleasure and the power trip you feel knowing exactly how you affect this fiercely disciplined man makes the pulse between your legs throb harder. After a minute, his hand snatches yours to a halt, making your grip around his cock tighter.
βShow me where you want it,β he demands in a gruff breath. And you do just that. Pressing the damp tip against your clit. The contact sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.
βInside,β you plead. βI need you inside me.β
With an impatient huff, his hand comes down to take hold of your leg behind the bend of your knee. Spreading you wide and teasing your entrance before pushing himself inside. You gasp at the initial stretch, digging your nails into his shoulders. Mando curses under his breath and as he pushes you worry for a moment if thereβs an end to him.
Itβs slow, deliberate. Feeding his cock into your tight cunt until heβs pressing the limits of your walls. You shudder together when heβs completely sheathed and his hands grip your hips so hard his fingers dig into your flesh.
βMandoβ¦β You throw your head back. Arching your whole body, waiting it to adjust to him. βFuck!β
βI knew it,β he pants. βFucking knew youβd feel goodβ¦β
He splits you in half and before youβre even ready the first hard thrust hits you. You whimper from impact and he thrusts again. Pinning you down by your hips to keep you at the perfect angle. Soon he sets a steady pace as he fucks you into delirium. Itβs too much, heβs too much. Yet you moan and whine for more like each thrust might be the last. He feels incredible and you can only claw at his trim waist as it moves for you.
βThatβs itβ¦ Good girlβ¦ Taking me so wellβ¦ I wanted thisβ¦ I want you to know every part of me.β
His words plunge into your chest like a dagger. Laced with a meaning that goes far beyond sex. Because you feel it too. You wanted him to be closer. You wanted him to know your name, know you. Even if it took this long to get here.
You feel one hand find your leg. Hiking it up so the back of your thigh lays flat against his chest. His hand drags up and down, caressing the soft flesh without losing a beat with his thrusts. A kiss presses on your calf and your head feels like itβs spinning. One moment heβs rearranging your insides and the next heβs giving your body sweet affection.
Tension builds in your core. Growing tighter and tighter with each hard thrust. Usually the second orgasm is more elusive to chase on your own. But this man is about to push you right into the next one not five minutes after the first one.
βDonβtβ¦ Stopβ¦,β you pant. βDonβt stop, Iβm so close, Mandoβ¦β
βCome for me... Let me feel you."
Then it comes. Tensing your entire body before coming down like a crashing wave. Itβs spreads through every inch of your body, making you pulse and shake beneath his frame. You cry out in the midst of the euphoria, clinging to his shoulders, and everything feels so right. He moans along with you, feeling every tight pulse around his cock and letting you ride out the remaining waves.
βThatβs two now, Shop Girl. You gonna give me a third?β
You let out a breathy laugh, still coming down from the clouds.
"I... I'm not sure I can," you chuckle.
"Yeah, you will," he pants. Amusement lacing his raspy voice.
Without out warning, Mando takes both your legs. Placing your calves over his shoulders as his leans forward. Folding you in half. And with one hard thrust, his cock drives back into you at a deeper angle. Your back bows and you swear you see stars in the blackness of the room. His lips land on the corner of your mouth and kiss their way to your lips. Offering a soft apology after the roughness. His strong arms are propped around you and you feel eclipsed under his broad body.
Soon his rhythm picks up. Becoming more desperate as he chases his own release. The room fills with the sound of your bodies meeting and you don't think you've ever heard anything more perfect. His panting picks up, his moans become louder, and the quivering breaths he makes when he finds a particularly deep spot will no doubt live in your mind rent free forever.
βYou wanted me bare, didnβt you,β he huffs, pressing his damp forehead to yours.. βWhen you offered me that tea? You thought about me coming inside this perfect cunt, didnβt you.β
Caught red handed. Sure, you wanted to know if he had a partner as well. But the thought did cross your mind when he cornered you against the counter. You wanted to know how he felt bare, with nothing between you. Even dreamt a few times about it.
βYesβ¦ Fuck, yes! Please! I want it!β
βYou gonna come with me, Shop Girl? Hmm?β
βMaker, Mando! Iβm right fucking there, please! Iβ¦ Iβmβ¦ ah-β
His firm hand grips your jaw. Whipping your face back to him so he can cover your mouth his. He kisses you deep, open and messy. No technique, just raw desire as he eats you alive. You moan and whimper against his mouth with each debilitating thrust he makes. He drives into you faster, harder. Relentlessly pushing you closer to the edge.
When it arrives, the orgasm hits you at full force. Wracking your whole body in convulsions as you scream, actually scream against his mouth. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his back and your cunt squeezes on to him for dear life like heβs never allowed to leave again.
Mando hisses through his teeth and he's right there with you. Ramming into you with relentless force as he chases his own release. His face dives into the crook of your shoulder and his arms scramble to take hold of you and he loses control. Letting out a sharp groan as he comes.
βFuck.. Fuck,β he shudders in your ear. βAgh!β
His hips jerk against your body, driving himself as deep as you can take him. You feel his cock throb as he pumps into you again and again. Filling you to the point of spilling out and itβs... everything. Connected in such a profound way youβve never felt before. In this moment, itβs hard to tell your bodies apart. Youβve melted and mixed and you never want to separate.
You ride it together, mold together, lose control together because you both knew itβd come to this. In the end this was inevitable. And in a galaxy filled with unknowns, in this you can be certain. A connection like this is few and far between. Itβs real and raw and rare. Resisting that feeling was never an option, so why try?
Even in the climb down he doesnβt stop. Those hard demanding thrusts slow to a gentle drags as if he doesnβt want to finish yet. Hands glide all over each otherβs bodies, soothing the other. All along his tense shoulders, you pepper soft kisses to his skin. Easing you both down from the clouds. He hums in the decent and it lulls you into an exhausted bliss.
Everything feels hazy and soft. Youβre not sure how long you stay melted together like this. Minutes? Hours? But itβs needed. After a while, the breathing becomes steady and a soft, drowsy satisfaction settles between you.
βThatβs the first time someone's come inside me,β you quietly confess. For a moment, Mando absorbs what you just said. Then you feel him prop himself in his elbows above you.
βReally?β
βYeahβ¦,β you breathe. Running your hands up the sides of his neck and resting them on his stubbled face.
βYou knowβ¦ since weβre sharing firsts tonight.β
He smiles and this time youβre able to know for certain by the feel of it in your hands. Leaning down, his forehead finds yours in the dark and you donβt think youβve ever felt so whole before.
βIβm your first, huh,β he breathes. βI like that.β
Thereβs so many layers to this man. Quiet and withdrawn. Rough and demanding. Soft and caring. Each one is a trait youβve come to cherish. Youβre not sure if you love this man. But youβre definitely starting to fall for him. You can explore that treasure box later though. For now, youβll take tonight for tonight and let whatever comes next between you arrive in its own good time.
βMe too, Mando...β
β’
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π THANK YOU FOR READING π
If you enjoyed my notes app delusions, please reblog, add a comment, drop insane reaction pics. I love seeing all your interactions, thoughts, and support on here. Might consider posting my works on A03 as well but weβll see. Much Love! π₯°
