mandalorian's mercy part eleven
Pairing: Alpha!Din x omega!cis!woman!reader
Word Count: 8.7k
Synopsis: Paz fights for honour, Din fights for you.
Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI, use of restraints & handcuffs, possessiveness, eye-fucking, fighting & violence, claiming (biting, marking, drawing blood), tw: blood, smut (unprotected p in v sex, semi-public oral sex), !!exhibitionism (ceremonial claiming, coming while being claimed, semi-public oral sex)!!, degradation, a/b/o dynamics (heat & rut), dom/sub dynamics
A/N: Thankyou for coming along this journey with me! I've had the best time pouring all of my sexiest smuttiest and romantic fantasies into this series and learning more about my own writing style as I go. It's a bit emotional, finally finishing my first ever fanfiction 🥲
Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and encourage me to write more 🥰 I hope you enjoy!
Guidelines ❊ Masterlist ❊ More Din
Part Ten < Series Masterlist > Bonus Content: Din's POV
You stare at Din from across the hull of Paz's ship.
Magnetised cuffs, the bane of your existence, now keep you apart. It is unnecessary to separate you from each other like this, but Paz obviously gets a kick out of it. His disapproval of your union could not be more clear.
Your stomach turns as a thought hits you out of nowhere - what if the rest of their Tribe disapproves as well? Accepting Din will win in this fight, will they even agree to perform this claiming ceremony?
Din's arms are strung out, pinned to the wall by his wrists, and his visor fixed on you at all times. His weapons were stripped, though Paz was generous enough to allow him to keep his shiny beskar armour on. It didn't seem to phase Din - nothing did, until Paz turned his attention to you.
All it took was one look on Paz's part, and Din had jolted forward against the restraints with a growl.
Paz had held out another pair of the magnetised cuffs. "You're familiar with these, yes?"
Funny, you almost said, but you were too nervous and distracted.
Behind Paz, Din strained against the cuffs, and your face grew hot beneath his glare that seemed to pierce through his helmet. This wasn't just regular alpha possessiveness - it was the fact that you were so close to claiming each other, and anything that threatened that outcome was becoming impossible to endure. Possessiveness was written all over his posturing. Part of you was worried that he would injure himself trying to break free if Paz got any closer to you.
"Throw them to me," you had said to Paz - pleaded with him. "I'll fasten them myself."
He ignored you, stepping closer and holding his hand out for your wrists.
Din let out a sound of frustration and fury, straining even harder against the cuffs.
You tried not to react to Din. "It's okay," you said to him, and held out your wrists for Paz.
"Vizsla," Din growled. "She is mine. If you touch her - "
"You'll kill me?" Paz finished for him, and took your hands in his like it was nothing, like he didn't have a near-feral alpha now roaring death threats from two feet behind. Paz sighed. "Save it for the fight."
He fastened the cuffs on you and hit the button that activated the magnets. You were nearly yanked off your feet as they hit the wall. Din had snarled again. "I will kill you."
"I'm terrified," Paz had deadpanned as he stepped back and admired his handywork.
You had glared at him.
Paz is in the cockpit now, flying the ship to Din's home, leaving the two of you down below in silence.
"Are you okay?" Din rasps. "Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine. Not hurt, I promise," you respond. His shoulders sag slightly. "Are you?"
He shakes his head. "Fuck, I lost it when he touched you. I should have expected it, it's just…" he leaned back, tilting his head back until the back of his helmet hit the wall behind. "I need my claim on you." He spoke so quietly, it was like he was talking to himself more than you.
That can't happen for another few hours yet. You say the only thing you can think of to help him. "I am yours, Din."
"Yes, you are," he agrees. There is no room for question in his tone. "And, I am yours, little thief."
That makes you smile, despite the circumstances. "You are," you agree softly. You can't wait to give him your claiming mark as well. You can imagine it so vividly, biting into the smooth tan skin connecting his shoulder to his neck, darting your tongue out to taste the essence of his scent on his skin, your pheromones mixing with his… fuck.
You shudder, and for the time being, allow yourself to sink to that fantasy to pass the time. Stuck to the wall, there's not much else you can do. It helps that Din is right there, splayed out in all his beskar-clad glory, a vision ready to fuel your imagination.
You run your eyes up and down his form.
Something shifts in the air, and Din angles his head, visor still fixed on you.
He's noticed the way you're looking at him.
You meet his gaze, biting your lip. You don't care about being subtle right now.
He shifts, standing more firmly, legs spreading a little further apart. His chest heaves and he straightens up, drawing his shoulders back.
His gaze beneath the visor is hot on your skin as he takes you in just as you are doing to him.
You feel a nearly undeniable instinct to drop to your knees and crawl to him. To take his cock into your mouth and swallow him down. Maker. You stare at his crotch, transfixed, and dart your tongue out to wet your bottom lip.
"Fuck, omega," Din groans softly.
You swallow, unable to look away. "How long will this take, again?"
"Hours - several hours." Din sounded distraught.
"You will win," you say, an affirmation.
Din nods.
"I will be free," you say.
He nods again.
"We will claim each other."
His gaze darkens, somehow. "Yes, omega."
You lick your lower lip again. "You will take me onto your ship and fuck me into the furs. Repeatedly."
"Is that what you want, omega?" His voice is soft and low.
You nod immediately. "It's all I can think about."
He angles his visor at you. You feel like prey being sized up by a predator. His voice is so soft and gentle, lulling you into a sense of safety as he says, "me too," and somehow you feel his eyes dragging down and up your body again.
"A fight to the death?" The leader of their tribe stares down at Paz and Din.
You are fascinated at the sight of a visibly female Mandalorian leading this tribe. Her helmet is gold, and she wears a fur cape over red armour. You wonder if a Mandalorian is allowed to choose their colours. You wonder if there has ever been an omega accepted into their ranks before.
You can feel the eyes of the surrounding Mandalorians who followed the three of you into this chamber, and you can't help but shift nervously beneath their curiosity.
This place feels forbidden to you. You are the only one with an uncovered face, and your wrists are now cuffed together, marking you as a prisoner. You focus on Din, and the knowledge that this is temporary, that he has always delivered when it comes to you in the past. Part of you wishes you had the fur blanket to hold onto, to remind yourself what he's capable of.
"Yes. This is a question of honour," Paz says.
"How so?" she asks him, her voice sharp.
Paz gestures to Din. "He accepted a bounty. Her. Then he ran away with her and killed the client. This brings disrepute to the Tribe."
"A serious accusation." The armourer turns to Din. "Is it true?"
Din nods. "It is. I'm here to ask your permission to claim her."
The Armourer leans forward. "A claiming ceremony?"
"Yes."
She swivels her helmet to you. "Has he told you what that entails, for an Outsider?"
You feel heat rush to your face. "Yes." Din explained it while they were stuck on Paz's ship. The memory of the way he described it, and the way your body reacted, flashes through your head.
"And did you seduce him for your own survival, or is this love?" Her tone is friendly, harmlessly curious, as she questions you.
You take a step back. "What?"
"Be calm, you are safe here. The Way of the Mandalore demands its followers act with honour above all else. But a power dynamic of bounty hunter and prey, intersecting with alpha and omega dynamics, makes you uniquely vulnerable, even to someone whom I know to be honourable. So I must ask if you are entering into this union with him willingly. You will not be punished if you admit you do not truly want this. Our Tribe must always act with honour."
"Oh." You suddenly see how Din saw the flaw in your relationship with him so clearly before you did. He was raised that way - to be honourable. It's one of the things you love about him.
He's watching you now, completely unreadable behind the visor, but you can sense he's nervous. Perhaps you were using him to get away from Paz. Perhaps you've changed your mind. Perhaps you're going to run away for a third time.
But - you just admitted it to yourself, didn't you?
Still looking at Din, you speak to The Armourer. "I love him."
Din's stance shifts. He wants to go to you.
You want to go to him too, but you can't.
"Very well," the Armourer says, breaking the moment.
Just like that, it is decided.
The Armourer stands. "Paz Vizsla fights for honour. Din Djarin fights for love. But let this not be a fight to the death, for our Tribe should not be made smaller unnecessarily. Loss of life cannot measure up to what you already stand to lose today. Paz, if you lose, you will be exiled. You must find a way to regain your honour to be accepted back into the Tribe. Din, if you lose, we will not accept your omega into the Tribe. And you." She turns to you. "You will be turned out of the Tribe, and out of Paz's custody. You will be free from all of us, including Din." Your stomach drops. She spreads her arms out wide. "This is the way."
You expect some protest from Paz, at least, who seems so horny about murdering Din and arresting you, but both of them accept this decree with surprising calm. Your respect for the Armourer increases.
Din is still looking at you.
"Clear the space. Paz, take your cuffs off the omega." The Armourer orders everyone around with all the confident ease of an alpha. She takes a seat while the rest of the Tribe clears the space.
Paz approaches you to release your cuffs.
Din approaches by his side, as if drawn to you on instinct. He cannot stand Paz being so near to you.
"Stand by the Armourer," Din says, as Paz removes your cuffs and leaves the two of you alone. "Stay out of danger. I'm serious. Trust me."
You nod, slightly embarrassed by how many times you haven't followed his instructions and put the both of you in danger. He's trying to tell you that you don’t have to do that anymore. "I love you." You have to say it again, to him directly this time.
He wraps a hand around the back of your head and presses his helmet to your forehead. This close, your breath fogs his visor. You breathe in his scent. It's tinted with aggression and possessiveness, a potent musk that warms your body. He doesn't need to say anything, you understand why he can't. He's steeling himself.
He lets go, and gently nudges you back.
You take a position beside the Armourer. The space is small, perhaps slightly larger than the room you spent your first heat with Din in. The rest of the Tribe lines the edges, silent witnesses to the fight about to unfold.
"The goal is to subdue your opponent," the Armourer says, as Din and Paz take positions opposite each other. Both are handed blades. "I will judge the winner."
They size each other up. The room falls silent.
"Begin."
Paz swings first. He holds his blade in one hand and swings with his other, but Din is fast, and he quickly shifts back to avoid the blow.
Their blades clash against each other next. The sight is heart-wrenching, but you're transfixed in place as Din uses it as a distraction to knock Paz's legs out by hooking his foot behind Paz's knee.
It's less of a fatal blow as it is humiliating for Paz, brought to his knees in an instant, but he fights back instantly, blocking Din's next blow with his vambrace and slashing his blade upwards, attempting to dig beneath Din's armour.
Your heart is in your throat.
Paz pulls the blade back and tries again. This time, Din blocks the blow with a swipe of his own blade, sliding it down Paz's blade and deflecting the blow to the side. He follows it up with his knee to Paz's helmet, in a move strong enough to knock Paz to the ground.
Yes.
Din is standing over Paz, but as he tries to kick the blade out of Paz's hands, Paz rolls and scrambles off the ground.
Shit.
Din doesn't let him stay standing for too long. With a roar, he tackles Paz to the ground before he can get his feet fully under him. They go down together, armour clashing in a flurry of limbs.
Paz gets Din in a grapple and rolls over so he's on top, pinning Din to the ground. They land right at your feet. You stare down at Din as Paz pins him down with a snarl.
For a moment, neither of them move. It's hard to tell where Din is looking, but you sense his eyes on you, rather than Paz.
Focus, you say in your head. Fight back. You can do this.
The Armorer leads forward, as if to announce Paz as the winner.
"No." The grunted denial comes from Din as he wrenches his arm free and uses the momentum to knock Paz's blade out of his hand. It slides a short distance away.
Paz's visor tracks where it lands, and in that moment of distraction Din strikes.
His blade meets Paz's throat. "For my mate."
The hair on the back of your neck lifts at the sound of Din's voice, feral and murderous. You have no doubt he is serious - he doesn't care about the rules, he just wants to kill Paz.
Paz freezes.
You can almost see the internal battle going on in his mind. Technically, he still has the upper hand. He can wrestle the blade away from his throat if he thinks Din doesn't have the conviction to make the killing blow, but Paz antagonised him by threatening you, and Din had gone feral promising him deadly retribution. He has that same tone in his voice now.
The blade draws a thin line of blood.
Your heart leaps in your chest.
The Armourer taps her finger against the arm of her chair one, twice, three times.
Neither of them move.
"Enough." She stands. "The fight is over."
Din lowers the blade.
Paz stands, and steps to the side.
The Armourer steps towards him, and offers an arm up.
He drops the blade, and takes her hand. He rises, his visor fixes on you as the Armourer holds his hand up in the air.
"Din Djarin has prevailed."
Tears well in your eyes, a smile forming on your face. You are so elated that you let out a quiet laugh and clasp your hands together. He won.
After a brief moment with the Armourer, Din pulls away and stalks towards you. He takes you into his arms and sweeps you off your feet with ease. He wraps his arms around your back, pressing you into his front, and presses his forehead against yours again.
"I love you too," he groans. "So much."
You bite your lip. "Claim. Now." You've waited long enough.
He nods. "Yes." Pulling away from you, he turns to the Armourer, but halts when he sees she is occupied.
Paz stands in the middle of the room, he his head lowered in shame.
The Armourer stands before him. "You are hereby exiled from the Tribe. Should you wish to regain your path along the Way of the Mandalore, you must find a way to regain your honour." She reaches up and clasps his shoulder. "I hope to see you again."
He doesn't speak. He turns, head still lowered, ignoring the gazes of the Tribe, and walks out of the room.
You breathe a sigh of relief. Some stupid small part of you feels sorry for him. You push it down.
"The ceremony, now," Din says, interrupting the moment.
The Armourer turns to the two of you. The visors of the rest of the Tribe follow, and murmurs rise among them.
Din tightens his hold on your waist, drawing you into his side. You cannot get close enough to him, desire and the sensation of everyone's eyes upon you driving your instincts towards your bastion of safety. You want to bury your face in his beskar-covered chest, but you force yourself to face the Tribe.
"You do not wish to rest?" The Armourer asks him.
Din shakes his head. No. You feel his hand on your waist tremor, and you wonder if he hurt it, or if he's struggling to keep in control.
If you didn't know any better, you would say he's on the edge of another rut. But two so close together is nearly impossible. And the amount of slick you produced for him in the meadow was just a coincidence too.
Oh shit. The claim might be the one thing that could send you both over the edge.
But you cannot say anything and risk stopping this now. Whatever happens, this has to go ahead.
"Very well," the Armourer acquiesces. "We shall begin with the dance."
A staff is not your weapon of choice, but it's the one the Armourer has chosen for you, so you do your best to wield it now.
The ends are covered in ash from the forge. Silt falls from each end onto the ground, tracking your movements in strange patterns as you circle each other.
Din has no weapons now.
He dodges each of your attempts to hit him. It's easy enough - you really don't know how to wield this weapon properly.
You move your hands further apart, grasping for greater control.
He lifts his hands and makes a beckoning gesture towards you.
You growl, and push forward in a flurry. When he doesn't dodge, he blocks the staff, placing his arms strategically to avoid getting soot on his armour. It's frustrating how good he is at this.
Finally you relent, stopping and stepping away, sizing him up again.
Just one strike. That's all you need, to mark one piece of his armour with ash from the Armourer's forge. At first you thought it was a misnomer, calling this thing a 'dance', but now you see it - the way Din has to dodge and weave, the way you're starting to focus on your footwork, on not telegraphing each movement you make, it does look almost choreographed.
You have to catch him off-guard, but the problem is, he seems to know each movement before you make it.
It's time to think differently. You are his omega, not his opponent.
On your next strike, he blocks it again by grabbing the staff below the ash on the end.
It's now or never. You grip his outstretched arm and pull yourself closer to him. You invade his space and peer at him through the visor, flashing your biggest fuck me eyes at him.
He hesitates.
Then you whip the staff out of his grip and strike with the opposite end - hitting the armour covering his shin.
Din looks down, lifting his leg to get a closer look at his shin.
You step back with a smile, and glance to the Armourer.
She nods. "It is done."
As you hand the staff back to the Armourer, Din removes the marked shin-pad.
The Armourer takes it from him and sets it by the furnace. It will be melted down and reforged, but for now, this part of the ceremony is over.
Your nerves spike as you realise the next part is about to begin.
The Armourer nods. "Bring the veil."
The veil is a large piece of opaque fabric that is draped over the two of you, creating your own bubble of privacy from the Tribe for this next part of the ceremony.
The air is taut between you.
Din caresses your jaw, wrapping his other hand around your waist to pull you closer into him.
A low level of light makes it through the veil, allowing you to see each other, which is good, because the time for speaking has passed. Both of you are operating on instinct now, as you reach up and take his helmet into your hands.
Slowly, in complete silence, you pull it off his head, revealing his face beneath it, the rugged beauty and the soft brown eyes staring into your soul.
Din explained this on Paz's ship. The act of claiming requires Mandalorians to remove their helmet. It is seen as the ultimate act of love for Mandalorians - a debasement, to sacrifice a piece of their honour for their mate. (You know Din would prefer the Tribe wasn't made aware of just how many times he had already removed his helmet around you.) The veil allows Mandalorians to maintain their privacy while this act is performed, while the rest of the Tribe can still be witness the event.
Since you are an Outsider, not bound by the Way of the Mandalore, the same veil will not be present for your own act of sacrifice, of debasement. Apparently, there is no need to preserve your privacy if it is not a violation of the Way of the Mandalore.
Din offered you an alternative, a modified ceremony if the thought made you uncomfortable, and you did consider it, but in the end, you realised you like the symbolism. Sacrifice. It makes sense. It is what you are, what you have been doing, for each other - Din, sacrificing his honour for you every time the choice was presented. You, sacrificing your chances to run away, choosing to stay and help him.
So you agree to keep your part in the Claiming Ceremony unmodified.
But it is Din's turn first.
You gently set the helmet down on the ground, and rise back up into Din's arms.
His mouth meets yours on instinct, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.
You gasp into his warm, loving embrace and deepen the kiss. The room is silent, reverent, and if they can perceive what you are doing by the outline of your forms beneath the veil, they do not react. You can't bring yourself to care - not when this is the first moment of actual freedom you have ever experienced with Din.
He kisses you greedily, smoothing his gloved hands up and down your body, forcing you to arch your back as he leans into you, his mouth chasing and consuming every sound you make.
There is a low thrum of heat present between your legs, threatening to overtake you as Din's pheromones invade your lungs and linger on your skin.
Finally you break. You pull away from his kisses and part your legs as he supports your weight, his hands coming to grip on your thighs and hoist you up. Your body feels alight with desire at the manhandling, and a whimper escapes your throat as you follow your instinct and bare your neck for him. Claim me claim me claim me…
He growls low. His eyes lock on your neck, a predator sizing up his prey.
You weave your hands up his neck and into the soft waves of his dark hair, gripping him tightly, pleading for his claim not with words but with your body in every conceivable way you can think of.
His hands flex on your thighs, and with a snarl, he leans in to your neck. Shivers run across your skin at the sensation - his nose, burying into the crook of your neck, as he inhales greedily and moans.
You grip his hair tighter, trying to mash his face against your neck. The low thrum between your thighs is sending heavy, needy pulses of desire throughout your body. You bite your lip to prevent another pathetic whimper, but it comes out anyway. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm down.
It's no use.
You need his claim on your neck right now or you might die.
But with every gasp and whimper, every tug of his hair, and every flex of your hips against his waist, he reminds you that he is in charge. The press of his mouth into your neck remains steady and unchanging, torturously so.
"Fuck - Din - please!" you half-sob half-whisper, feeling the heat beneath your skin only grow with the embarrassment as you beg for him in a room full of strangers.
Apparently, your begging is what he wanted.
He rewards you instantly. He finally latches onto your neck with his teeth, sucking and lapping at your skin as his canines sink down, hard.
Throbbing, heated desire races to the surface of your skin, right where he is placing his mark. "Oh - oh stars!" you exclaim, unable to think beyond the way the pain of his bite immediately morphs into pleasure, adding to the heat already building between your legs.
His hands grip you even tighter as snarls into your neck.
When his bite finally breaks the skin, something clicks inside you.
Heat. That's the first thought in your head. Just like you sensed would happen, his claim has triggered your heat. There is an inferno between your legs, slick gushing out and soaking your pants and the front of Din's armour.
The second thing you feel is connection. Something invading your soul and lodging itself within you. Somehow you know it's coming from Din. From his teeth in your neck, pouring himself into you, marking you as his forever.
You are truly and utterly claimed.
As soon as you realise this, you reach the peak of an orgasm. You let out another pathetic whimper and shudder in his unyielding grip as more slick soaks through your pants. His teeth are still lodged firmly in your neck, anchoring you to him in the most primal way possible without his knot. You will have that too, soon enough. You finish with his name on your lips, and as you settle against him, he finally lifts his head from your neck.
You take each other in. You're sure you look like a mess, eyes glazed with need and heat as you come down from your orgasm. He looks hungry, his teeth and tongue stained with your blood, and it's fucking sexy.
You expect him to let go, to let you put his helmet back on so you can have your turn, place your claim on him. The urge to complete the bond is growing with every second.
But as his gaze flicks back down to your neck, his pupils dilate even more, and before you can say anything he's leaning back in for more.
Your head falls back to the ceiling, the veil tenting over your face as you gasp for air and writhe in your alpha's arms.
He presses soft kisses over the mark. Laves at the healing wound with his tongue, which only serves to stimulate you further into your heat. You felt that wet, textured tongue on your pussy only a few hours ago, and now it's on your skin again - fuck.
More slick. More heat.
He's tending to the mark.
The term is plucked from the recesses of your mind, to some early memory of dynamic lessons where they taught you how claiming works, biologically speaking. The claimer should tend to the mark with their mouth directly after the claim to promote healing and lower the chances of pain.
There is no pain now. Only your Mate, your alpha, your love.
You lose yourself in the feeling, letting go of everything else and sinking into his arms, feeling utterly safe and protected. The heat takes a backseat for a minute, as though whatever is happening right now is more important.
You're not sure how much time has passed when Din finally pulls away again.
As soon as he does, the urge to complete the claiming, to put your mark on him, returns with a vengeance.
His gaze is fixated on your neck, a slight crease between his brows as if he's not truly satisfied yet, but as you run your hands down his neck and gently pull at his jaw, he finally tears his gaze away from it and meets your eyes.
Instincts take over.
You bring your face to his jawline and nudge at it with your nose, gently asking him to bare his neck for you.
He tilts his neck to the side.
You nip at his jaw, then descend on his neck, and the place where you will place your mark on him.
The sight of the expanse of his skin, and the concentrated scent of alpha on the edge of rut, has your canines aching. There is no waiting for Din to beg for your claim - it needs to happen, now.
You tighten your grip in his hair and your other hand braces his back, pulling his body against yours as you bite down into his neck and break the skin instantly.
Yours.
The floodgates open; the connection Din began becoming a wide-open channel between the two of you as you pour your own soul into his. His presence surrounds you and buries itself deep within you.
Yes. You moan into the bite. Finally, the pieces are falling into place, and everything feels so right. You are his, and he is yours.
He's making sounds now; finally losing control. He gasps your name, his hands pressing you against him, his hips gently thrusting against yours. One of them comes up to grip the nape of your neck, pushing you deeper into his neck.
You can feel, through the bond, that he is just as high on your claim as you were on his, right now. You can also feel a dark, dominating desire bleeding through - his rut.
His pulse thrums beneath his skin as you lick and suck at the mark. You take your time tending to it thoroughly, adoring his taste, the way he tremors with each flick of your tongue.
At some point it transitions from tending to the mark, to kissing up his neck, his jawline, his cheeks, and then his lips are crashing into yours. You taste each other's blood as you open your mouths into the kiss, tongues and teeth clashing with increasing desperation. No word has to pass between you for both of you to know what the other is going through.
Eventually Din tightens his hand on the back of you neck and pulls you back.
You look at each other for the first time as mates.
Your turn, he seems to say with his eyes. He gently nudges you down. Hurry.
Right. The final part of the sacrifice - your sacrifice.
You pick his helmet up off the ground and lift it up, over his head.
He catches your wrist and presses a kiss against it, eyes never leaving yours, before he allows you to replace his warm gaze with the cold visor.
Your heart wrenches, but you can feel him sure and steady through the bond.
He nods at you.
Together, you lift the veil off and cast it to the side. It takes you a moment for your eyesight to adjust to the light. While the Armourer gathers the veil and takes it away, the rest of the Tribe is still gathered around the room, witnessing.
With his hand on your jaw, Din pulls your gaze back to him. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you.
With a tilt of his visor, he communicates to you with ease. Focus.
You sink down onto your knees before him and allow yourself to give into the haze of your heat a little more. From this angle, Din looms over you, and the sight sends a delicious warmth through your core.
He is still holding your jaw, lifting your face up to him, and now he presses his gloved thumb into your mouth. You part your lips and accept the intrusion with ease. You know in this moment you will take whatever your alpha gives you.
You try to suck it in more, but he removes it. You make a small whine of disappointment.
The air shifts around you. Din mutters something under his breath, and his hands fly to his crotch, adjusting himself. The movement draws your gaze instantly, and you recall your purpose here, on your knees before him, in front of his Tribe.
Slowly, you place your hands on the piece of armour covering his crotch.
His fingers brush over yours, but he allows you to take control, unfastening his armour and underclothing, until his hardness is exposed. Here, where his scent is more concentrated, you realise for the first time the slight difference.
He smells mated. He smells like you.
It's entrancing. As more slick makes itself known between your legs, you can't help but lean in closer to the source.
It has been over a month since you've seen it. His cock - heavy, thick, and hard. It looks bigger than you remember, and for a moment you wonder how you could possibly fit it into your mouth, let alone between your legs?
But there is that soft pressure on the back of your neck again, as Din handles you the way an alpha does an omega, and suddenly all thoughts drop out of your head. You want to take Din's cock in your mouth, so you do.
He tastes like yours. The weight of him on your tongue is so delicious, you can't help but hollow out your cheeks and try to suck him deeper. Your hands grasp at the rest of his cock, the parts you can't reach with just your mouth while you train yourself to sink him further down your throat. The sensation of his knot pulsing, threatening to expand beneath your fingers, elicits a moan.
His grip around your nape tightens. Through the bond, you sense his urgency to act on his desires. Yes, you want to say. Do it. Instead, you swirl your tongue and try to take more of him in.
Above you, Din chokes out a growl.
Then, he does exactly what you want. He thrusts his hips, and with his grip on your nape, forces you to take him further in. The tip hits the back of your throat, and you moan as he pulls back for another thrust. He's gentler with it at first, but when you show now signs of struggle, he increases his pace with you. His head falls back and he lets out a groan, louder this time.
If you weren't in the beginnings of a heat, perhaps you would feel more embarrassed at sucking his cock so wantonly, but all you feel right now is pride at making your alpha fall apart.
As your mind empties, you find yourself drawn to the bond. You can feel his arousal through it now; a bright, luring desire for dominance that is currently being fulfilled by having his omega on her knees before him, taking his cock so perfectly.
Your eyes roll back and your arousal flares, despite the fact that you aren't getting any attention between your legs, the mere knowledge that he's praising you in his mind is enough. Slick gushes, and pleasure almost climaxes between your legs.
And then Din is sensing you through the bond, realising with awe that you've come for him without him even doing anything. His grip tightens on your nape, and his thrusts stutter, growing desperate. Good fucking girl. My omega. My mate. Mine. They aren't words, exactly, just feelings of praise and possession that he shares with you.
Out loud, the only thing you hear is his groan as he holds you in place and comes down your throat.
After drinking every last drop you can, you sit back on your heels in relief, panting for air. You are vaguely aware of the Tribe standing around you. You wipe your mouth, and clear your throat. Well, you hope what you did was enough of a sacrifice. A debasement.
Din tucks himself in and refastens his armour. Then he offers you his hand.
You take it and stand.
For a moment, you take each other in. Alpha and omega, newly bound mates, at the start of their cycles.
Then The Armourer breaks the silence.
"It is time for the forging."
The Armourer strikes at the shin-plate.
You are supposed to be watching together, but the cryo-furnace is hot enough to where you have had to shield yourself behind Din. Somehow, in his full suit of armour, he is not affected.
He still holds your hand with one arm reaching behind, keeping you close. Occasionally he rubs his thumb over your fingers, sending shivers through you with the rough texture of his calloused skin.
The hand you are holding, and the arm it is connected to, are bare. Before the forging process began, The Armourer had him remove the armour from one arm so that you could take his measurements. Afterwards, you rolled up your sleeve, and Din took yours with steady hands, one gloved and the other bare, and you had to resist the rising urge to pounce on him.
Through the bond, you can sense the sacredness of this moment for him. He is watching The Armourer forge your bands with utter reverence. Curious, you peer over his shoulder to get another look.
The world shifts as you see The Armourer for the first time the way Din does.
Beskar belongs to The Mandalorians. Din never said so, but you can feel the truth of it coursing through him now. And somehow, you sense, Din earned the beskar lining his body, including the piece you marked with ash - the piece The Armourer is now handling so skilfully over the cryo-forge.
The practice The Armourer is engaging in is an ancient, guarded Mandalorian secret.
Emotion wells within Din. His fingers curl around yours absentmindedly, and you give him a little squeeze.
Suddenly, you understand how Din is withstanding the heat of the forge - not because his armour somehow protects him, but because he cannot bear to look away.
He keeps the bond fully open for you to experience each moment with him.
By the time The Armourer is finished, two hours have passed, and Din is supporting you with his arm around your shoulder. Your head is tucked into his chest, your eyes, tired and watery from watching a cryo-forge for so long. The heat is burning your skin both within and without.
But when The Armourer holds out two thick armbands, you find the energy to stand, and the renewed determination to keep your eyes open and take in everything about this moment.
Around you, the Tribe draws nearer from wherever they were standing or sitting. Most had migrated to the back of the room, but now they surround you.
The Armourer takes Din's bare hand and holds up his band. The light catches on the symbol engraved there. "The beast you defeated in battle for your omega," The Armourer announces. "Do you accept this as a symbol of your matehood?"
Din nods. "I do."
She slips the band over his hand and up his arm, securing it at the thickest part of his upper arm. Murmurs of approval run through the crowd.
The Armourer holds up the second band. It bears a simpler engraving, one that reminds you of the first time you were able to fight back, because of Din. "A dagger, the first gift you received from your alpha. Do you accept this symbol of your matehood?"
"Yes," you say, and insert your hand into the band.
The Armourer fastens it to the same swell of your upper arm, matching Din's perfectly.
The cool metal feels glorious against your heated skin. You find yourself relaxing as Din wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him from behind, gently resting the chin of his helmet on your head.
You force your eyes to open, peering blearily at The Armourer. "Is it done?"
She nods. "Welcome to the Tribe."
Oh. Something clenches in your chest.
A member of the Tribe gives you a ride back to The Razorcrest.
It's nighttime when you arrive. A cool, fresh breeze stirs in the air as you cross the meadow to Din's ship, the ramp lowering as you approach, hand in hand.
Beneath the light of this planet's moons, you feel like your sanity is slipping. Din is silent beside you, but you can sense the rut driving him through the bond, and in his flaring scent. It only serves to make your heat come on worse.
In the dim light of the cabin, you lay your eyes on the fur blanket.
You didn't expect to be in heat right now, so it was lucky that you had the foresight to set up your nest before you left. Now, you can barely tear your gaze away. You need to have your alpha on those furs now.
The bag of supplies Din has been carrying with him slips out of his hand and hits the floor. The air is taut between you.
He presses a button, and the ramp begins to close behind you. His breath comes out harshly through the helmet.
"Din," you breathe.
Suddenly you are pulled against him, and then he is backing you up and slamming you against the nearest wall. He rips his helmet off and throws it to the side, and the sudden sight of his face would knock your knees out from under you if you weren't sandwiched between his body and the wall.
His gloves come off next while his eyes dart over you, pupils dilated, breath coming out in pants.
"Alpha - " you start to beg, but he takes you by the jaw and presses a desperate, open-mouthed kiss against your lips.
With his touch, you can sense your lucidity fading beneath the heat you've been fighting back. You focus on stripping down your clothes to get them out of the way before you lose mind.
Din picks up on what you are doing and begins taking over with rut-fuelled ferocity, tearing and ripping and discarding clothes until you are fully naked and there is a pile of fabric at your feet.
He is less concerned about his own armour, and brushes away your attempts at removing it when your actions get in the way of his sole intention: to touch you.
He devours you with more kisses. His hands run over your bare skin, squeezing your breasts, trailing down your back, feeling the curve of your ass as he pulls you closer. His mouth descends from yours, down your neck and onto his mark, and he takes the opportunity to tend to it some more.
The sensation sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
You make sounds of frustration until he quietens you with a growl and manhandles you over to your nest. When he tosses you onto the furs, on your back staring up at him, your legs part with ease. He must take that as permission to enter your nest, because he kneels onto the fur, coming between your legs.
You're too delirious and needy to care about whether that is proper nest etiquette.
Suddenly the bond between you flares as Din reaches out and sends you a very particular feeling: the urge to have you present for him.
Fuck. He doesn't even need to say anything; you scramble to obey his desire immediately. You flip over and present your ass, trying to back up against him. You look over your shoulder at him and shudder as the sight of him, looming over you in nearly full armour, a feral look in his eyes, summons another gush of slick between your legs.
You whimper and rock back against him, brushing your ass against his armour as he closes one hand on your waist and smooths the other hand down the small of your back.
"Please…" you sob, "…knot me …now!"
His nostrils flare, and you wait in agony while he finally, finally begins to remove parts of his armour - starting with his crotch, until his hardness is revealed and the sight makes you whine.
With a needy groan, he abandons his attempt to get the rest of his armour off and shoves his cock inside you.
He fucks you into the furs the way he promised he would.
He takes you fast and brutal, an alpha in rut forcing you to take whatever he wants to give you. His hands never leave your hips, the beskar covering his thighs slapping into the back of your own bare thighs with each thrust.
It isn't until he pulls you upright so you are sitting in his lap, and his mouth finds his mark on your neck, and a grunted "Mine," escapes him, that you come over his lap.
He follows, driven by the sounds you make, and finally shoves his knot into you, right where it belongs.
Languid relief rolls over you. "Thankyou," you moan.
He kisses your neck some more, and then gently lays the two of you down in your nest.
"Why am I still in my armour?" he groans. "Too hot."
You let out a breathless laugh. "Because you wouldn't let me take it off you. Single-minded alpha."
He makes a grunt of acknowledgement.
Your eyes slide shut. There is more to be said, but you struggle to form the words as exhaustion weighs upon you. "Heat," you manage. "Rut. Again."
"Yes," he says, and pulls you in tighter against him.
"Fuck," you say.
"Yes," he agrees. His knot pulses inside you.
Sleep takes you.
Entering the Omega Safehouse in new clothes and an alpha Mandalorian mate on your heels makes you feel like a stranger all over again.
You can tell Anuma is happy to see you because she doesn't level a blaster at your head like you worried she might. Bringing so much trouble to her door and then running away could have been grounds for banning you from this place forever, so the silence, the raised eyebrow, and the once-over are more than you could have hoped for.
She doesn't take you beyond the entrance, and with an alpha present, you understand why. You wish you could leave Din here for a minute to step inside, check in on the place that's been your home for the past month, but it is almost impossible for either of you to leave each other's sides right now. While the bond settles, possessiveness between mates is at it's worst.
From everything you've learnt and heard about the claiming process, it should improve after a few weeks, but right now you are leaning into Din's hand on the small of your back like he's your lifeline, grateful and needy for his touch.
You explain to Anuma what happened after you left, and after you finish, she folds her arms and gives you an analysing stare.
"You are okay?" she asks hesitantly.
You nod. "I promise."
Her gaze flicks between Din and you. "I can murder him if you need me to. Just say the word."
Din sighs.
You grin at her, and lean back, resting your head against Din's armour. "Seriously, Anuma, you remember everything I told you about him, right? I'm okay, really." Heat flares on your cheeks, and you can't stop smiling. "I love him."
Din squeezes your hand in his.
Anuma puts her hands up in surrender and backs away. "Well, I'm happy for you."
"Thankyou. Now tell me what happened here."
"Oh please," she rolls her eyes. "You took care of the main threat. The explosion was loud but you know what area of the city we're in. No-one even came to investigate - but we were ready if they did. We disposed of the alpha collector's body and went back to business as usual," she finishes smugly, and then gasps. "Oh - the bathrooms are finally being fixed."
One month later
Din nods at you from across the hotel doorway.
Through the visor of your helmet, the world is illustrated in cold and practical harsh lines. The crack in the doorway allows a small sliver of light into the hall.
As the barrel of your blaster crosses it, the light reflects off the shiny new metal.
Focused, you scan the keycard you stole over the keypad, and the door slides open to reveal your target.
On your left, Din sends through the bond.
You duck, and he shoots the assailant hiding by the inside of the door to attack you. There's a flash and a loud sound, then a body slumping behind you as you step into the room. Through the bond, you send Din your gratitude.
The target puts his hands in the air. "How the fuck did you find us?!"
"Followed the smell," you say.
Through your helmet, you can taste the acrid scent of his poor alpha musk, and it almost makes you retch.
The door slides shut behind Din, and he pulls out the transponder, lighting up with a holo of the alpha's face. "It's him."
His eyes widen. "Wha - wait…" He points at the holo, and he laughs nervously. "See there, at the bottom of the screen. Client, see?"
You nod. "We know." You press a button and it switches to a picture of a woman - one of the omegas you met at the safehouse. You angle your head at him, and although he can't see your smile, you're sure he can hear it through your voice. "Omega hunter."
Din holds out a pair of cuffs.
The man gulps.
You sit on the edge of the ramp.
The sun is setting, the sky filled with purples and pinks so beautiful you have taken off your helmet to truly soak it in.
You're not sure if you'll ever be able to wear the helmet full-time. Thankfully, the Tribe seems open to whatever choice you make regarding your faith, and Din has made it clear he doesn't expect you to change yourself for him.
Din is returning to the ship now.
You are freezing and storing your marks in a private location for now. You are not sure what else to do with them when there is no authority that you can trust to persecute them, nor a client willing to pay for them.
It would be an issue if you weren't looting every coin they had on their person when you caught up to them each time, a fair portion of which is going towards funding the omega safehouse, which has become a full-time project for you.
You visit whenever you can, when you're not busy with Din.
He's been very supportive of your endeavours.
As he approaches, you feel that familiar pull in your chest. The bond, now settled between you, can still be demanding at times. Neither of you mind.
You rise and dust yourself off as Din draws nearer, but he's too slow.
You set off towards him.
He walks faster as you approach, opening his arms to catch you as you fling yourself at him.
Your legs wrap around his waist and he takes hold of you firmly, letting you feel his strength.
"Little thief," he greets you.
You grin, and press a kiss to the cheek his helmet. "Thankyou."
"For what?"
Everything. "For taking care of me."
One hand comes up, cupping your face. He presses his helmet against your forehead.
"Always."
Part Ten < Series Masterlist > Bonus Content: Din's POV
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