Work Text:
“This is part of a vaporator.”
Luke lay on a hover-crawler underneath the Mandalorian’s starfighter, one hand resting on his chest while the other stroked the undercarriage of the ship. He could not see Mando from where he was, but he heard leather creak and armor clink in a shrug.
“I trust my mechanics,” Mando said. “I’m one of them.”
Luke huffed at that.
“I’ve done some wild patch jobs but I can’t say I’ve ever taken apart a moisture vaporator for a ship. My uncle woulda skinned me.”
He clicked his jaw closed. Mando was here to visit his son and was kind enough to let Luke look over his ship while Grogu was down for a nap. He didn’t care about Luke’s past. That wasn’t to say Mando was wholly uninterested in him. Luke was no voyeur, but each time Mando pulled his helmet off the Force smacked him in the face with what he felt. He pulled his shields down tight each time, but not before he caught the surface eddies of attraction.
Luke cautioned himself that it didn’t mean anything deeper, and getting seriously involved with the parent of his first student seemed a terrible idea, but he knew it was a matter of when they would act on the impulse, not if.
“It’s not a patch job,” Mando snapped, bringing Luke back to the reality of the conversation at hand. “She can outrun an X-Wing.”
“I doubt that.”
“It’s not hypothetical.”
Luke pushed himself out from under the ship, the crown of his head gently bumping against Mando’s boot. He fixed him with his best imitation of Leia’s stern face.
“And why did you find yourself needing to outrun an X-Wing recently?”
Mando tensed, perhaps realizing he was admitting to acting outside the bounds of the New Republic. And to whom. Luke let his face melt into a smile.
“Well I don’t know that she could outrun my X-Wing,” he said. “I’ve made some improvements myself.”
It worked. Mando relaxed, a slight shift in posture that most would not notice. He held a hand out for Luke, who took it, and pulled him all the way out from under the ship.
“We’ll have to see sometime,” the vocoder flattened his tone, but not entirely. There was mirth and teasing in his voice.
“I’d like that.” Luke glanced down at their hands, still joined. He made no move to let go. “We’ll have to wait until my sister visits so someone can watch Grogu. I always fly with Artoo.”
“Grogu can fly with me.” Mando also did not let go.
On an impulse, Luke stepped slightly closer. He was crowding Mando against the starfighter now. For a moment he worried that he was making him uncomfortable, but he dismissed the thought. Mando would have no problem voicing his discomfort or simply shoving Luke to the side.
“No, I want to see you go all out. No careful flying with baby on board.” Luke spoke softly, in deference to how closely they were pressed. He should back away, should give Mando space even if he didn’t ask for it. He did not.
Neither let go of the other’s hand.
“You think you can handle that?”
Mando also lowered his voice, and it curled around the base of Luke’s spine. Mando had spoken no words when he had removed his helmet on the light cruiser, and Luke suddenly wanted to hear what it sounded like.
“I can handle you,” Luke insisted and oh, they were no longer talking about starships. “If you’d like me to.”
Mando paused, and Luke felt his face flush. He had overstepped.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and began to pull away. “I shouldn’t have assumed — “
Mando kept a hold of his hand, not so hard he could not pull away but firmly enough that it was obvious he did not want him to.
“Why?” he asked. “I thought part of the whole Jedi thing was reading what people were feeling.”
Luke wet his lips as he weighed how much to share. As much as he liked the Mandalorian, he did not know his name. Had only seen his face once. This was a risk to share.
And yet.
“Not with this on,” he said softly, touching the bottom of Mando’s helmet. “It keeps me out.”
Mando put his own hand to a beskar-covered cheek and tilted his head.
“When I’m alone, but nearby, and take it off. What do you feel then?”
Luke felt the weight of his stare boring into him, despite the fact that he could neither sense nor see his eyes.
“Everything.” His voice came out husky, thick with need he had not realized he had. His flush deepened, and the heat rushed from his face down his core to settle low and deep.
“I need to atone for removing my helmet before,” Mando said.
“I would never ask you to do it again,” Luke said immediately. “I — “
Mando slid the helmet up, slowly, and over his head. It was not unlike the tender moment Luke witnessed between him and Grogu so many months ago. But now the warm brown eyes were darker, pupils dilated. And they were not sad, but instead reflected what he felt like in the Force.
Want and arousal poured off of him, and for once Luke did not feel the need to shy away. He was invited, desired. He swallowed, a tiny part of him still wondering if he was overstepping or misinterpreting something. But there was no other way to understand the emotions pounding against his skull, mixing with his own and threatening to build to a wave that would bury them both.
“Can I kiss — “
Luke got no more out. Mando pulled hard on the hand he still held and pressed against his lips. It was clumsy, the sort of kiss he would expect from someone who lived their life locked away behind a helmet. The sort that, perhaps, he had been daydreaming of for the past few days. Luke teased his tongue along Mando’s lips, and they parted, inviting him inside. A low, needful noise built in the base of his throat. The need of someone who had not been touched in any way, much less intimately, in far too long.
When they broke Mando rested his forehead against Luke’s, and gasped out,
“If we — if we go back now we’re going to wake him up.”
“We can stay here,” Luke said, and a teasing smile found its way across his face. “Bend one of us over the ship.”
He did not need the Force to see the effect that had on Mando; but the combined strength of the sound he made and the metaphysics of his emotions had him pull Mando down for one more crushing kiss before he had his hands on his waist. Luke pulled with one and pushed with the other, turning Mando so that he faced the starfighter.
“Yeah?”
“‘Lek.”
Something about the switch to another language, even for a single syllable, destroyed what little remained of Luke’s patience. He fumbled with buckles and magnetic clasps, until Mando’s pants and tassets were pulled down to expose his ass. Luke pushed on his back to urge him down, and he obliged.
Mando had to spread his legs slightly to straddle the nose of the craft, and the motion revealed more of him. He was fully hard, length pressed to the side of the ship’s curve with precum smeared in a small trail, marring the gleaming surface. Luke knelt and pressed the flat of his tongue against his balls, drawing a small circle against the sensitive organ. Mando shuddered, then shouted when Luke gently drew the skin of his sack between his lips.
“Okay?” Luke let go and raised his head, concerned.
“If you don’t stop checking on me and get moving I am going to bend you over this ship, Skywalker,” there was no true threat in Mando’s voice, only a cloying need.
“It’s ‘Luke’.”
He ran his tongue up along his taint, drawing a shuddering moan from his throat. He trailed higher, until he had to use fingers to spread Mando open so that he could lave over the tight furl of muscle between his cheeks.
“Ffff — fuck, Sk — Luke.”
Luke shivered at the sound of his own name and continued working his tongue over his rim, alternating between lateral patterns and pressing in, gently, with the tip. Mando canted his hips back to meet the motion and Luke grabbed his hips, holding him down so that all he could do was take the attentions.
“I’ve got you,” Luke said when he paused for a breath, “let me take care of you. Relax, sweetheart.”
The only answer was the long groan that accompanied his tongue’s next intrusion. He pushed it in and out, but the muscle of his tongue was not quite strong enough to work in as deeply as Mando would need to reach completion.
Luke let go with one hand and held it out, falling into a repetitive pattern of laps so that he could split his concentration. A small bottle flew into his palm. He tried to keep several stashes of bacta gel nearby, ostensibly for injuries. But it would serve another purpose just as well.
He pulled back and Mando tried to push up to see what he was doing. Luke pushed on his upper back briefly, urging him to stay in place. He glanced at his left hand and frowned. His nails were a hair too long for what he had planned next. So instead he spread the gel over the gloved fingers of his right before working more of it against Mando’s hole. He was rewarded with a quiet hiss at the temperature of the gel.
“Stop me if you need it,” Luke said, before pressing the tip of his middle finger in to the first knuckle.
His earlier work made that much easy, but he went more slowly with the rest. There was little give to his prosthetic, and he did not want to hurt him. He eased the finger out again, before delving slightly deeper, slowly. Mando’s walls relaxed for him, working in tandem with the needful noises and soft Mando’a swears to urge him still deeper.
“More?” Luke asked, shifting his weight to try to relieve some of the discomfort of his own pants pressed too tightly against him.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
The next time he drew his hand back he added his ring finger, spreading him wider. Mando made small reciprocal motions with his hips, but Luke’s other hand held him firm, keeping him from doing too much. He picked up speed and depth, until he found a particular spot and Mando keened, bucking hard enough to nearly send them both tumbling to the ground.
“Easy, Mando,” Luke said, curling his fingers to do that again. “I’ve got you.”
“Din,” Mando choked out, turning his head to look back at him with one eye. “I’m ‘Din.’”
Luke paused, touched and surprised by the intimacy even as he had half of his hand buried inside the man.
“Din,” he repeated reverently. “Din.”
He resumed fucking him on his fingers, wishing he could feel the pull of Din’s — Din’s insides the way he would be able to if he could use his flesh hand. Luke pressed himself against him, until his forehead pressed into Din’s back. He wanted to nip and whisper at his ear but the ship rather got in the way of that.
“Your ship is too shiny,” he rasped. “Too new-looking. Too perfect. You’re going to make it filthy.”
Din shuddered underneath him and moaned, “Elek.”
“I’m going to push you over that edge,” Luke didn’t know where this was coming from but it all spilled out of him. “Gods, Din. You’ve needed this for a long time, haven’t you?”
He felt Din nod in the Force more than he saw it with his own eyes. Luke shivered and opened himself fully to what Din was feeling. His own hips jerked as though they could meet his own fingers as they pushed inside.
His thrusts grew sloppier, more instinctive as he began to lose his intense focus on Din and instead allowed the feelings to guide him. They melted together until Luke was no longer certain what he felt versus what Din felt, they were one writhing mass atop the starfighter. He realized they were both pleading, though he knew not with whom, as they built to culmination.
They crested together, Luke biting his lip to muffle the noises he made and Din making no effort to quiet his shout. The paired orgasm left Luke feeling shaky, another feeling Din echoed in the Force. They panted, no longer in sync, and Luke slowly pulled his hand free.
“Fuck,” Din breathed, pressing a palm against the surface of the starfighter so he could finally press up and look back at Luke.
“Fuck,” Luke agreed, sliding off of him so that Din could finish the motion.
The nose of the ship was no longer shiny. A thick coating of cum slid down it, leaving a matte smear in its wake before dripping to the forest floor. Luke gave into impulse and swiped gloved fingers through it and brought them to his lips. It tasted of salt and Din, along with a vaguely medicinal tingle from the bacta gel.
“Are you — “ Din made an awkward gesture at Luke, unsure to ask how to reciprocate.
“I’m fantastic,” Luke said. He kissed Din again, relishing the brush of mustache against his upper lip. “If a bit of a mess. I think we have a little time to clean up before Grogu is awake.”
Din hummed thoughtfully into his lips.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But we should come back out here later.”
“To race?” Luke laughed. He had nearly forgotten.
Din shrugged.
“I was more thinking that there is an awful lot of shiny starfighter still left.”
The promise of any sort of next time sent a fresh shiver running along Luke’s spine. He had not quenched his desire for Din, only whetted it.
“Well,” he said. “We can’t have that, now can we?”