Chapter Text
Din sits in the stiff, unyielding pilot’s chair of the new ship. He calls it “the new ship” because he hasn’t named it yet. It doesn’t feel like it’s really his, although he’s been flying it for a few months now. The new ship has given him a much needed short-term goal though, as well as the means to meet his objective. He needs the ship so he can collect bounties and he collects bounties to pay off the ship.
He’s just landed at a spaceport for fuel. Kijimi City. A shithole of a place. Always cold and infested with smugglers, gang members, and other assorted criminals. He’s antsy though, like he’s been so often lately, and should probably get out of the ship for a bit. Go walk around and stretch his legs, despite the less than desirable location. Lately, Din just wants to move, go, do all of the time. It helps keep his mind off things. But he can tell it won’t be enough today.
He’s filled with a contradictory longing to think of Grogu while also needing to push away those memories. Din wishes he could find a way to remember the kid properly, to recall the happy times, instead of just thinking about the times at the end that broke him. The times that tore apart everything he thought he was and left him alone again, without even a place to lay his head at night.
He picks up his helmet and gazes at it. The sight still makes him queasy with shame, but he is starting to come to terms with taking it on and off in front of others. Like Boba and Bo Katan. Not right now though. He puts on the familiar beskar helm and feels safer behind the tinted visor. Safe from what, he does not know.
Yes, he definitely needs something today. Exhaustion. Distraction. Pleasure. Pain. Something intense to chase away the darkness, or at least forget about it for a few hours. Fuck, he doesn’t know what he wants. Din just wishes he could fill the gaping hole in his heart, if only for a little while.
***
You sit on your stool, doodling on a piece of flimsi and mentally debating whether to stop at the Kubindi restaurant on the corner or the Lothalian street food vendor near your apartment for your dinner. The front door swishes open and you look up expectantly. It’s been slow this week and you could really use a customer. Rent is due in three standard days.
But this individual is unlike any customer you have ever had. He is covered head to toe in shining silver armor that reflects the overhead lighting into your eyes. Standing straight and tall, he strides over to you.
“I want some tattoos.”
The voice comes out low and rough through his modulator. He’s even more intimidating up close, with his towering stature looming above you and his rumbling baritone growling in your ear.
“Ok, great. You came to the right place.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just fixes his opaque black visor on you and stands there in perfect silence.
“Um, I have my portfolio here if you want to get an idea of my style, so you can make sure it’s what you’re looking for. There are also some idea boards on there if you’re not sure what you want,” You hold out the holopad but he doesn’t reach for it.
“I just want a word and a number. I’m sure you’ll manage,” he says gruffly after a long moment of quiet.
“Right.” You stare into the T-visor and wonder if he is always this short with people or if it’s just with the ones who are going to permanently ink him up.
Wordlessly, he hands you a piece of flimsi with a word in a language you don’t know written on it and the number two in aurebesh.
“Yeah, I can do this, no problem. Just pick a font,” you say cheerfully, deciding to combat his surliness by killing him with kindness. He flicks through the holopad until he finds a font he likes, then his gloved hand passes it back to you wordlessly. “Good choice,” you chirp as you start to turn and walk to the back of the shop.
His gruff voice stops you. “It’s late. Will I be your last customer today?”
“Yup, looks like it.”
“Could you lock the door then? I don’t like being vulnerable to attack or having people see me without my armor. You’re fine, you’re working on me. But no one else. Please.”
You raise your eyebrows. Who was he thinking was going to attack him? Well, clearly he was quite concerned about it, given that he was armed to the teeth. Blaster, spear, some sort of sword hilt at his waist and kriffing grav charges on his belt. And that’s just what you can see. You don’t doubt there are more weapons hidden from sight. It’s excessive, even for Kijimi City.
You should probably feel more nervous around him, given all those weapons and his request to lock the door, but you don’t feel threatened. Despite his grumpy mood, he has an air of honesty and trustworthiness about him. You wouldn’t have lasted long in this city without being a good judge of character. However, your positive impression may be unduly influenced by the feeling of warmth settling between your legs. That deep, dark voice and powerful build are having an effect on your body that you wish you could ignore.
He notices your hesitation. “I’m a bounty hunter, so the criminals here really don’t like me. I’ve caught too many of their friends. And I’m a Mandalorian, that’s why I’m armed like this. Weapons are part of my religion.”
You nod slowly and walk to the door to lock it, still processing everything he said. A Mandalorian? You had thought they were all gone, no more than fairy tale heroes now. But he certainly looked the part, now that you think back to the holopics from your old school textbook on “Cultures of the Galaxy.” You can’t remember much else about them other than that they are fierce warriors, which is evident from looking at this one. He looks like he could take down a kriffing mudhorn all by himself.
You introduce yourself and he grunts out his name. Mando. Not a very inventive nickname but whatever.
“Ok, come on back,” you say with forced breeziness as you walk back to your work area and pull the heavy curtain behind the two of you. “So where do you want these?” You gesture towards the flimsi he gave you that you’re holding. He stands next to you, just close enough to send your heart racing, and leans in to point to each item as he tells you their intended locations.
“My chest. Below my right ear.”
“All right. Go ahead and take off your helmet and, uh, everything covering your chest,” you say, trying to infuse a level of calm you don’t feel into your voice. You carry over a woven basket for his things.
Silently, Mando takes off his wool cloak and you awkwardly take it from him to hang it on the peg that’s screwed to the wall. He takes off his leather gloves next. His large hands are golden brown, with long, capable-looking fingers. Your breathing goes shallow for a moment. It’s difficult not to imagine those hands sliding over your body.
Mando undoes several fasteners to remove his chest plate. It feels indecent, standing there while he removes the armor piece by piece. You’ve had countless clients disrobe in front of you, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, but this is the first time it has seemed so...erotic. Your face heats up as his armor carefully goes into the basket with a clink for each piece. You swear he’s watching you as he unfastens the various parts, but it’s hard to be sure of where he’s looking through that dark, impenetrable visor.
He places his hands on his helmet, pauses as if unsure about his next move, and then slowly removes it. He finishes disrobing his upper half when he tugs his black duraweave shirt over his head and tosses it in the basket.
Sweet Maker. That face. It’s a kriffing shame to hide it under a helmet for even a moment. His dark, liquid brown eyes gaze into yours with uncompromising intensity. Wavy brown hair that’s shot through with a few silver strands tumbles across his forehead, perfectly tousled from being under his helmet. A regal aquiline nose, a scruffy jawline as sharp as a razor blade, and full lips under a jaunty mustache complete his gorgeous face. You have to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.
Your eyes dart around as you try not to stare at his handsome features. Unfortunately, they land on his body, where things are even more distracting. He’s clearly no stranger to getting tattooed. Black ink pieces embellish large swaths of his arms and torso. The muscles on his chest, arms, and stomach are all sharply defined under golden brown skin. The only hair on his body is a light smattering between his pecs and a trail leading from his navel to below his waistband. Probably all the way down to his - no! Wow. You really need to get your mind out of the gutter. Why the kriff are you thinking about what’s in his pants? He’s a client. Get it together and be professional.
“Do you stare at all your customers like that?” Mando asks, clearly amused.
Maker help you, his voice is even sexier without the modulator.
“Or am I just lucky?”
Dank farrick. Were you really staring that much? Of course you were.
“Um, no. Well. I mean, I was just looking at your other ink. To see how the new pieces will fit in.”
He hums and relaxes back into the client's chair with a leisurely smile. “Well, as long as you like what you see.”
What a smug motherfucker. But even as you think this, your panties become so wet you know they’re soaking through. Damn him and his perfect abs.
You try to get things back on track.
“So where exactly do you want the chest piece?”
He taps a blank spot on his left pec, right over his heart. You nod and head to your drawing desk to sketch out templates for the two pieces. Mando sits back, his eyes shamelessly burning into you. When you’re done drawing the lettering, you approach him and tape the stencils to his chest and neck. Even the slight skin-to-skin contact resulting from this task makes your stomach flip over. You finish as fast as possible, stand back, and gesture towards the mirror.
“Take a look and see if you like the size and placement.”
Mando silently stalks over to the mirror and studies the templates. With his back to you, you’re able to see his large tattooed back piece depicting some sort of animal skull. The tattoo must have taken quite a while to complete and caused a lot of discomfort.
“I like the piece on your back. It’s really well done,” you say to the back of his head as he looks in the mirror.
He turns and walks back towards you. “Thanks. It’s a mythosaur skull, a Mandalorian symbol. My vod, a member of my tribe did it. He was always the one to tattoo me but now he’s...gone.”
He looks off to the side and then shakes his head slightly as if to clear it. “Anyway, this is fine,” he rasps, gesturing to his chest and neck.
You get your razor and other prep supplies and get started. Your left hand rests on his sternum while your right shaves the area on his chest. Kriff, the heat of his smooth skin under your fingers is so appealing that you have to grit your teeth to stop yourself from running your fingers up and along his collarbone.
You’re not sure if things are better or worse when you move to apply shaving cream to the area below his ear. There’s less of an expanse of tempting skin here, but you are way too close to that gorgeous profile, specifically those naturally pouty lips that just beg to be kissed. He smells good. Like leather, metal polish, and an unfamiliar spice.
When you lift the razor and start to bring it under his ear, he reaches up and gently wraps his long fingers around your hand. Mando looks at you for a beat too long. As if he knows his touch is burning into your skin.
“Would you like me to do it? I shave there all the time. I’m pretty good at it,” he says, his voice that’s devastatingly low and rough.
“No. Um, no. I’ve got it.”
“Ok. It’s up to you. All of it...is up to you.”
His fingertips trail over the sensitive skin on the inside of your arm before pulling away. Your increasingly wet pussy clenches at his touch. Flustered, you take a shaky breath and refocus. You shave the side of his neck carefully and wipe away the excess shaving cream while chewing on the inside of your cheek to keep your attention on your work.
“Have you been tattooing long?”
“Um, yeah, ten years or so,” you mumble without looking up.
“Huh. You just seem really...nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” you snap indignantly. “I’ll get this done for you and I know you’ll be really pleased with the results.”
He hums at you again. “Oh, I think you’re right. You can definitely...please me.” He slowly reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The backs of his fingers brush the side of your neck as his hand drops away.
You practically go weak in the knees. Maker, he is fucking sexy. You want him bad. So, so bad. You hate to think that your thoughts are all written all over your face, but they probably are and you’re sure he can read every last one of them.
After a moment, you are able to clear your head enough to remember what you need to do next. Mando leans back in the chair and faces forward once more so you can finish prepping the spot under his ear. Then you busy yourself with transferring the stencils to his skin and thankfully, he stays quiet while you do so.
You get your gun and ink ready. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
You turn on your machine and get to it, outlining the letters that will go on his chest. He doesn’t seem at all distressed by the repetitive piercing of the needle. Clearly, he’s used to pain, given the number of tattoos he already has and the various scars you see adorning his skin.
You’re able to concentrate on your work instead of on him now that you’re doing what you do best. Etching designs into skin is second nature to you.
Chatting while you work is a habit of yours. It helps people relax and distracts them from the discomfort. “So, what do these new tattoos stand for?”
He glances down at his chest where you’re working. “That one says ‘ad’ika’. It means ‘little one’ in Mando’a.”
“Little one. Like a child?”
He is quiet, as if he doesn’t want to answer, and you see a pained expression pass over his face like a dark shadow. As quick as it came, he shakes it away and then answers your question in a soft voice. “Yes. I had a foundling.”
You nod. The use of the past tense is not lost on you.
“The number two on my neck is because together we were a clan of two.”
“Sounds like he was very lucky to have you.”
“He probably could have done better than me. I was the lucky one.” He clears his throat. “And you? What does the writing on the sides of your fingers stand for?”
You grin. “You noticed those earlier, huh? I have gloves on now.”
“I notice everything. I have to. That’s how I hunt my quarries.”
You are utterly distracted by the momentary imagining of him prowling after you and hunting you down. A shiver runs down your spine.
“Um, they’re the names of my family. My mom, my dad, two sisters, and four brothers.”
You regale him with stories of growing up in a large family as you move onto tattooing under his ear. He appears to listen attentively but can’t answer because the muscles in his neck would move. It’s not until you’re done that you realize you talked yourself endlessly but he barely shared anything about himself. That was probably by design. Despite his sly smiles and flirtations, there is a persistent haze of grief behind his eyes. Like there are many dark things he wants to remain unsaid.
“Go check it out, “ you say, waving him towards the mirror as you tidy up.
He comes back and stands beside you, just a shade nearer than appropriate. “I like them. A lot. I like the tattoo artist too.” His words are sweet and slow like honey, which makes your panties become just that much wetter.
You turn and pick up the dressings for his tattoos. “Well, I’m glad. That you like the tattoos, I mean.”
He notices the slight and huffs as he sits back down and leans back in the chair. Grinning, you work at covering the tattoos in bacta ointment and plastoid wrap.
You finish your task and move to stand from your stool, but he reaches out and lightly catches your wrist. He’s barely holding it, making it easy for you to pull away if you want to. You don’t. His liquid eyes search yours as he traces small circles on your palm with his thumb.
“When you’re tattooing, your hands are so gentle,” he murmurs, his voice husky and raw. “The last few standard months have been so fucking hard. I really need someone to be gentle with me.”
You see that look of sadness flit across his face again for just a second. He blinks and it’s gone, leaving only desire there instead.
“Although, you should know that I won’t be very gentle with you” he whispers hoarsely.
You seem to have forgotten how to speak. Mando’s dark eyes keep holding your gaze, making your cheeks flush. “Can I kiss you, lovely girl? You’ve been staring at me like you want me to all this time.”
“Yes,” you breathe out immediately.
Mando gives you a slow smile and twists his long fingers in your hair as he pulls you close by the nape of your neck. His lips slot against yours, the movement of his mouth quickly escalating from a soft kiss to a hungry and demanding one. Your tongues battle for dominance and he easily wins the fight. He thrusts his tongue between your lips to lick the inside of your mouth.
“I like the way you taste,” he whispers as he nips your earlobe. He slowly sucks and bites his way down the column of your neck.
“Come here.” Mando tugs you towards him. “Sit on my lap, pretty girl.”
You’re breathless from his kisses. You want more. Need more. So you look him straight in the eye and smile coyly as you move to straddle him, your knees pressed into the vinyl chair.
“So good to me. You listen so well,” he groans.
You rest your hands onto his muscular shoulders, pulling him closer. Mando kisses you, all bruising lips and insistent tongue. He swallows your soft moans as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth.
“Can I touch you, you, lovely little thing? All over? Need to feel you.”
You don’t hesitate with your answer. “Yes.”
He slips his hands under your shirt while scraping his teeth along your collarbone. “Maker, you’re so soft.”
His mouth moves back to yours, sucking and biting as his hands slide up to cup your breasts.
Mando pinches your already pebbled nipples between his fingers, making you whimper with pleasure. He expertly pulls off your shirt and bra with a few quick tugs so he can lick and suck each breast. You feel his cock hardening between your legs. Your leggings do very little to hide the evidence of his arousal. Instinctively, you roll your hips to rub your clothed cunt against him. A strangled sound escapes his lips.
“Baby, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna have to fuck you senseless.”
You have never been so turned on in your life. “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you gasp as he thrusts his hips up into you, grinding his stiff cock against your clit. You moan as a wave of pleasure washes over you. “Mando…”
He chuckles. “Such desperate, pretty little noises all for me,” he whispers darkly. “Let’s see what other sounds I can pull out of you.”
He rests his hands on your hips and squeezes until you’re sure he’ll leave bruises shaped like fingerprints on your skin. You bite his neck and shoulders as he rocks you back and forth against his impossibly hard cock. The sensation makes you whimper as you nip at his collarbone.
“Mmmm, my little kitten bites,” he coos in your ear. “I like it. What a good girl you are.”
Your cunt clenches at his words. You are so giddy with desire, you can’t even think straight.
“You’re so cute with that stare. Are you all cockdumb already, pretty girl? We haven’t even got started.”
You whine in disagreement but know he’s probably right about how dazed you are. He grasps the hair at the back of your head and pulls back until you’re looking at him.
“Stay here with me. I want you to feel everything I do to you,” he growls. Mando bites your neck hard and slaps the side of your thigh. “Okay?”
“Yes, yes,” you gasp.
“Good girl. Now hump me like a little loth cat in heat and I’ll give you my cock if you do a good job.”
The thought of doing otherwise never crosses your mind. You hold onto his biceps to steady yourself as you grind your clit into his hard length. He groans and grips your hips even tighter and rocks your hips over his cock. The two of you kiss and suck and bite each other’s mouths, necks, and shoulders hungrily. The movement of your hips becomes more and more frantic until you’re on the verge of an orgasm.
“I’m...I’m gonna come,” you whimper urgently.
“Yeah? Good.”
He thrusts his cock up against you and pinches your nipples hard. “So come for me, little kitten.”
And you do, digging your nails into his skin and raking them down his shoulders. He bites your shoulder hard and then licks and kisses the spot tenderly as you shatter in his arms. “Mando, Mando...Kriffing Maker!” you cry out.
“Fuck, you did so well, pretty girl. Love the way my name sounds when you say it while you come.” He fists your hair and kisses you hungrily as you float down from your high. “Let me fuck you better than anyone’s ever fucked you before,” he growls. “Can I? Make you scream my name again?”
You moan against his neck. “Please, yes, Mando. Please.”
He twists in the chair and stands, his arms effortlessly holding you up as he carries you across the room. He kisses you roughly as he strides over to your large drawing desk. Mando balances you on the edge of its surface while he leans around you to sweep your stacks of flimsi and art styluses onto the floor.
“Hey!” you squeak as he carefully lays you back.
“Sorry, I’ll pick it up later, lovely girl. I just have to see your beautiful body all laid out for me.”
Mando tugs your pants and underwear off and flings the clothing over his shoulder. You can’t help but giggle at his frantic disposal of your desktop items and clothing. He gives you a wolfish grin and stares you up and down as he kicks off his boots and yanks at his pants. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groans. He pushes your knees apart to spread your legs so he can look at your dripping wet cunt. “I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy. And you’re gonna love every second of it,” he snarls.
Mando stands there, looking you over like you’re a meal to be devoured. His naked body is breathtaking. You’ve already seen his bare upper body, but below the waist definitely has its merits. And while his muscular, tattooed thighs are very attractive, his large cock, glistening with precum, is what really captures your attention. It’s deliciously long and thick, to the point where you’re a bit nervous about being able to take all of him. Apparently, all that big dick energy is warranted.
He slides his hand up your thigh until his fingers are teasing your entrance. Then his thumb glides up to rub your clit, pressing tight circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whimper and lift your hips to grind into his hand.
“So greedy,” he chides. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”
Mando plunges one finger, then two, into your needy cunt, making you moan and spread your legs even wider for him. He grabs your ankle and drapes it over his shoulder as his thumb strokes your swollen clit even faster.
His clever fingers thrust into you and curl against your velvet walls until you start to feel a burning sensation build up in your core. You’re a panting, writhing mess beneath him but it doesn’t matter. All that’s important is chasing the high that’s threatening to consume you.
Mando leans forward and spits on your cunt, working the moisture into you. “Gotta get you extra wet and stretch you out so you can take my big cock, pretty little thing,” he growls. With that, he sinks a third finger into you. Your orgasm rips through you like a wildfire.
“Mando! Holy fuck!” you wail.
He expertly works you through your release, dragging every spark of pleasure out of you. “Good girl,” he purrs. “You feel so tight and wet coming around my fingers.” He slides his fingers out of you and sucks on them. “Fuck, and you taste so good too.
He grabs your hips, pulls them to the edge of the desk, and sinks to his knees between your legs. He groans as he leans forward and slowly licks between your damp folds. You gasp and wrap your legs over his shoulders. “You really are delicious, sweet thing,” he moans.
Mando laps at your pussy and sucks your clit until you start to moan and whimper loudly. He drops his head down to nip at the inside of your thigh. “I want you to have something to remember me by,” he hisses as he sucks at the spot until it turns purple.
“I need you,” you whine. “Need your cock. Please, please.” He chuckles darkly and presses one last kiss into your bruised thigh before licking from your navel to your neck as he crawls onto the desk and moves up your body. “Need you too, lovely girl.” His hand lightly grasps your neck and he groans when you tilt your head back to bare your neck to him. “Maker, I’m gonna fuck you so hard. Tell me if I get too rough, ok?”
You nod weakly as he lines the tip of his cock up with your slippery entrance. Mando bites your neck fiercely and thrusts deep inside of you at the same time. You cry out at the size of him. He’s stretching you wide and bottoming out within you. It feels like he’s splitting you in two.
He gives you no time to recover. He just starts railing into you right away, his cock pounding into you so impossibly deep. You tug at his hair and gasp in his ear. “Mando, you’re going to fuck me through this desk.”
“Good,” he grunts. He slams into you even more forcefully. “You must like it, your pussy’s getting even wetter.”
He’s right. It’s all so intense, the devastating pace he has set, the way his cock stretches you open and fills you completely. But it feels amazing.
You are awash in a sea of pleasure. Mando’s strong body, slick with sweat, moves above yours as he thrusts into you over and over, whispering filth into your skin. The heat of his mouth sears your neck as he sucks more marks into your flesh. He pins your arms above your head with one large hand and you melt as you gladly give him control. “Such a good girl...letting me have whatever I want,” he rasps in your ear.
He’s sending you right up to the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. And even though he’s fucking you into oblivion, it feels so good you can’t help demanding more. “Please, Mando, harder. Faster. Fuck me like you mean it,” you beg breathlessly..
“You really want me to wreck you, don’t you, baby?”
“Yesss…”
“So fucking needy,” he growls. “Can’t get enough of my cock, pretty girl?”
He slams into you so fast and hard, the desk squeaks across the floor. You whimper as he gives you exactly what you’d asked for. The aching burn between your legs ignites into a thousand fireworks behind your eyelids and you wail his name over and over.
“There you go, lovely girl,” he pants in your ear. “My good girl. Your cunt feels so fucking good around my cock when you come...so wet for...me,” he chokes out. “So fucking tight.”
His hips stutter as he gets closer to falling apart himself. “Where? Where do you want my load?” he gasps.
“Inside me. Want you to fill me up. Please. I’m safe.”
He snarls at your words. “Fuck, I’ll fill you so full of cum, it’ll drip out of you for days.”
He spits out a string of curses in Basic and another unfamiliar language as his cock pulses inside you, pumping you full of his spend. You can feel his warm cum splash against the deepest part of you and you moan his name at the feel of it.
He holds himself above you as if he’s reluctant to pull out. His breaths are as heavy as your own. Mando kisses you softly this time, gently pressing his lips to your face. You look up at him and smile. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face completely at ease.
“Wow,” you sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”
He chuckles and nuzzles your neck as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “You asked for it.”
“I did. And I have no regrets,” you giggle.
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, content just to feel skin on skin, until he finally pulls away. Mando holds out his hand to help you up and then surprises you by gently wrapping his arms around you once you’re standing, his chin resting on your head.
“Are you hungry?” you whisper tentatively, as you hug him back.
“Starving.”
***
Din punches in the coordinates for his next destination and then gives Kijimi one last look through the transparisteel observation shield.
He thinks of you and a grin flits across his lips. You had been so soft and sweet. You’d made him smile. The time that the two of you had spent together did ease his gnawing loneliness a bit, although he knows it’s only a matter of time until the emptiness of his new ship gets to him again. Din hopes the sadness that chases him through the galaxy will be held at bay for a little while, but he knows it won’t.
Last night, the two of you had grabbed some takeout food from a nearby restaurant and walked to your apartment with it. Dinner was as good as you had promised. The sex was even better. Against the wall, on your couch, and on the bed where the two of you had finally fallen asleep, limbs tangled together, your head on his shoulder.
He woke early like he’d warned you he would. Din kissed your plush lips again and again before saying goodbye. A man less accustomed to turning away from the things he wanted would have been hard-pressed to tear himself away. But he did it. He pulled away so he could leave your apartment and your planet before changing his mind.
Din sighs and fires up the thrusters of his nameless ship with a stab of his finger on the green button. Time to go catch that quarry.