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“No.”
Karga sighs, hands on his hips as he throws an impatient glance at Din. You glance between them, holding the Child in your arms, as the four of you stand outside the cantina on Nevarro. Your eyes scan the structure, it seems recently repaired and freshly repainted - not at all the blasted up pile of rubble Din had described.
The three of you had touched down on the volcanic planet earlier this morning, a “quick detour” from your true destination of Corvus. The Razor Crest was in desperate need of repairs, and you had done your best patching the old girl in space. But sometimes, you just had to swallow your pride and ask for help.
Karga met Din when you landed, offering to help out with the repairs in exchange for a personal favor. And apparently it was time-sensitive, and you were already running late.
“He’ll be okay in here for the day.” Karga gestures at the open, bright doorway.
“I said, no.” Din argues, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not leaving him in a Cantina all day.”
“It’s not a Cantina anymore, it’s a school. He’ll be safe, you can help me out, and your lady can take a well-earned rest.” He cajoles, shooting an amiable wink your way. “And we can finally be on our way.”
You roll your eyes internally. Karga was nice enough, but some of his smooth comments made your lip curl. But you still take a few steps forward, glancing in the doorway enough to see that he is right. The building has been transformed, the dingy floor now fresh and clean, with chairs and desks arranged in neat little rows.
Din grunts noncommittally while crossing his arms, obviously still uncomfortable with the suggestion.
“I’m not pushing you, but I think he’d love it.” You nod down at the Child, who’s large eyes were taking in the buzzing room with excitement.
He considers your words for a long moment before sighing, giving a short, quick nod. Smiling, you gather the Child up in your arms, entering the brightly-lit room. You are being honest, you are sure that the Child would love to play with someone closer to his size, rather than the two boring adults he’s been cooped up with in space for the past few weeks.
A protocol droid was teaching a small class of students, assisted by an older human woman. She smiles when you enter the room, glancing down at the kid, and pointing at an open seat on the end row. You shoot her a grateful smile as you walk towards the seat she gestures to.
“Mind your manners, okay sweetheart?” You kiss the Child’s head, gently settling him in the seat, “Your Dad and I will pick you up in a bit.”
You knew Din wasn’t really his Dad, but didn’t want to bother explaining the whole backstory to the teacher. Even with the old bounties gone, sometimes it was safer to just let them assume. You make for the door, throwing him one last look and smiling at his obvious enthusiasm.
As you wave goodbye, his large, dark eyes focus on you for a long moment, before they whip around to view the other kids in the room, his mouth falling open into a joyous smile. The sight of him makes you sigh, your heart tightening in your chest.
“I’ll pick him up this afternoon.” You tell Din, but he’s still gazing at the Child, looking so tender and small at the human-sized desk.
“I won’t let anything happen to him.” Your hand brushes his arm, pulling him back to the present.
His head tilts your way, studying you for a moment before giving you a small nod of acknowledgment, “I know.”
“Okay Mando, let’s begin.” Karga claps him on the shoulder, leading him away to meet up with the others.
You made your way back to the ship, skirting around the Mimbanese who was already pulling panels off the side. The afternoon was uneventful, after giving the Crest a once-over you took the rare free time to wander the market, hoping whatever Karga got Din into wasn’t too dangerous. Eventually you make your way back, settling on a flat rock in the shade of the ship, taking in the sights.
A few hours later they arrive back in town, the Mythrol they took with them looking fairly put out. Karga ia laughing, obviously delighted about the favor - whatever it was - turned out. He claps Din on the back, and they spend a few minutes talking before he turns, making his way towards you.
You take him in, long, purposeful strides, the sun glinting off the silver Beskar, cloak billowing in the strong desert breeze. You tilt your head back as he stops next to you, shooting him a warm smile.
“How’d it go?” You ask, shielding your face from the sun with your hand.
“Fine.” His answer is short, but that wasn’t unusual. You’re sure he’ll tell you more about it later.
“Well, the Child is almost done with school, do you want to pick him up with me?”
Of course he did, he had probably been worrying about how the Child was doing all day. The walk to the renovated school was short and quiet, and the children are just finishing up for the day. The droid is cleaning up the tables, and the older woman is helping all the children gather their belongings together.
“Hey little guy, your mom is here.” The teacher calls the Child, who was sitting at the little desk and holding a - blue cookie? Where in Maker’s name did he get that?
She scoops the Child up in her arms, making her way over to you. She pauses for a moment when she spots Mando in the hallway next to you, eyes widening at first, but then she smiles.
“Oh, and your Dad is too! That’s so sweet. He’s an absolute darling, we all will be happy to see him again tomorrow if you’re still in town.”
Mando visibly stiffens next to you, his already tight posture becomes as rigid as durasteel. He inhales a short breath, the sound crackling through his vocoder.
“O-oh, I’m not-, he’s, uh-” you stutter, but the teacher is already handing the Child to you, anxious to keep an eye on the rest of the children.
“Sorry Mando, I know he’s not… I mean, I didn’t say he was-,” You turn to face him, the little green guy perking up as he sees Din.
“It’s fine.” He replies tersely, voice strained while gesturing to the door with a tilt of his helmet. “Let’s go.”
As you turn to leave, the teacher reappears at the door, thrusting a folded piece of paper into your hand. You take it automatically, brow wrinkling in confusion.
“We drew our families in class today,” she explains, distracted, “I’m sure your child would love to tell you all about it.”
Thanking her, you adjust Grogu on your hip, unfolding the paper as you exit the renovated schoolhouse.
The paper was a mess of scribbles, and it seems like he used every color available. In the middle of the multicolored swirl was a small greenish circle, the lines pressed deep into the paper. Next to him was what looked like a tall gray oval, and on the other is a shorter oval.
You hold the paper in front of you as you walk, showing it to the Child.
“This is so good, buddy!” You praise, while pointing at the short green figure, “Is this you?”
He giggles happily, doing a sort of nod, his arms waving at the paper.
You laugh too, moving on to the tall oval, “And this has to be Mando, right?”
Right again, and the giggling continues as he enjoys this little guessing game.
“Who is this?” You ask, pointing to the third figure. “Karga?”
He shakes his head, large eyes focusing on you, ears wiggling.
“No? Is it Cara?” You question, cocking your head to look down at him.
The Child’s eyes blink up at you, his tiny hand coming up to point a little finger towards your face.
“It’s me?”
His nod and smile are infectious, and your heart melts.
“Oh, buddy.” You coo, as you squeeze him, a high-pitch squeal coming from his little, smiling face.
Din walks just a little faster after that, making it to the Crest before you. He disappears into the bowels of the ship before you can even make it up the ramp.
Shrugging, you pin the drawing to one of the metal panels in the cockpit, settling down in one of the seats to ask the Child about his day. And find out where he got that delicious-looking cookie.
-----
It’s hours later, and Din has run out of guns to clean. Every single piece he owns has been stripped down, cleaned, and reassembled. The carbonite chamber has been checked, and his armor has been polished.
Dragging himself up to the cockpit, he sits down in the pilot’s chair. He gazes out of the window but it’s late, and there’s not much to see outside. He swivels slowly in his seat, pausing when the Child’s drawing comes into view. After a long look he grunts, stands back up, and heads back to the lower level.
The Girl and the Child went to bed a while ago, and he does feel bad about that. He knows he’s been avoiding her all day, but it was for the better. He looks in on them, she’s wrapped in a blanket in his bunk, her arm stretching out in her sleep towards the pram. Shaking his head, he leaves, making quietly down the hallway to the refresher at the end.
Din growls to himself, muscles clenching as he strips down, removing his armor and creating a careful pile in the corner.
His brown eyes scan over his face in the small, dingy mirror, eyebrows knit together in a glare, cheeks flushed. He couldn’t bring himself to go to her like this, so he locks himself in here, promising that he’ll feel better after a quick release.
“Stop it.” He points a finger at himself, “Stop thinking about her like that.”
He steps into the sonic shower but he can’t, he can’t stop the visions pouring into his mind. Things that he’s been thinking all day, half-hard and unable to concentrate on anything else.
Din had always been aware of the budding, tender feelings he felt towards the Girl. Seeing her kindness and goodness with the Child, how she accepted both of them so completely and with such compassion. Somewhere along the way it evolved from “he’d protect the Child with his life” to “he’d protect them with his life”.
But it feels like something has changed, like something in his head has cracked open, allowing thoughts he’s never fully entertained to flood in. Like something primal had awakened in him, and he was just now starting to understand it.
In the low light he can’t help it, he thinks about… about how she’d look, on her knees and begging for him to fill her. How he would, day after day until they got it right, leaving her full to the brim with his release. How everyone that would see her would know she was his, swollen and heavy with his child.
He wonders if, in another life, they would be a clan of four. If she would wear his Mudhorn signet stitched on her clothes or even - and this makes his breath hitch - tattooed on her skin like a brand.
His hand drops to wrap around his length, already hard and aching against the tight muscles of his stomach. Din’s thumb circles the tip, feeling how his precome already dampens the skin. He closes his eyes as he strokes himself, thinking about her perfect lips around him - her sweet pussy, always so tight and so wet, just for him.
Mouth dropping open, his tongue swipes over dry lips as his hand moves to stroke his length. He’s already close, his forearm coming up to brace against the wall, supporting himself. His forehead rests on his arm as his hips jerk, flexing as he fucks hard into his hand.
Her name is on his lips, a groan that’s already too loud and shameless in the tiny, cramped room. His mouth shifts up and he bites down on his own wrist hard to silence himself as he comes, teeth creating matching grooves that will bruise his skin for days to come.
Hot, sticky release covers his hand, coming out of him in heavy, thick ropes as he pumps himself dry. The relief is instant from a full day of edging, from being too busy to take care of his problem.
Panting, he cleans himself, trying not to think too hard about his behavior. It was just a fantasy, it was fine. He could do this.
Kriff, they would only be on this goddamn planet for another day or so - he could hold it together until then. Then, once it wasn’t taunting him every day, he could finally forget about all of this and they could get back to normal.
-----
The next morning, the bed is as empty as when you went to sleep, Din already awake and outside with the Child. You stop by the refresher and change, preparing to meet them outside to take the Child to school. He no longer needed to go, but the ship would be grounded for another day, and he’d love to spend another day with the other children.
The teacher meets you at the door, a smile on her kind, wrinkled face, “So glad to see you returned. Everyone will be excited to see your Child, he is so polite for a child his age. You two are great parents.”
This time you can’t mistake the low growl from Din, his hands curling into tight fists at his side. His body tilts away from you, shifting until he’s looking out over the dunes, hands moving to grip his belt tightly, the leather of his gloves creaking.
You smile in thanks, handing the Kid over to her, “You hear that, little guy? Be good today, too.”
He coos in reply, already smiling at the noise and chatter in the room. You wave as he disappears inside, the droid starting to call the class to order.
When you get back to the Crest, you break apart, Din moving further into the ship, while you inspect some of the wiring that had been repaired yesterday. You weren’t great with the electrical components yet, most of your repair experience was with the mechanical side of the ship.
You had left your datapad in Din’s bunk a few days ago, and decide to head that way to retrieve it. Might as well use the spare time to figure out what went wrong, in case there was a next time. Nevarro might not always be so close by.
The bunk door is open, something you catalog as a little unusual, but perhaps the current wiring they were working on ran through the walls in that room. You step inside, almost running into Din, who is rummaging through some of the storage crates off to the side.
“Oh, hey.” You smile, not expecting to see him inside. He was rarely in his bunk, only to sleep, or when spending alone time with you.
He seems to freeze, almost guarding himself as you enter the room. You eye him suspiciously in response, your head tilting slightly as you examine him.
“Is everything okay?” You ask, taking in his rigid posture, the way his helmet moves to face slightly away from you, instead of looking at you.
“Of course.” His reply is terse. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You’d always been intuitive, something that had both saved your life in the past, and gotten you into trouble more times than you’d like to admit. Something was definitely up, and you were going to find out what.
“You’ve been acting... funny lately. And I think you’re avoiding me.” You gently accuse, narrowing your eyes in thought, “Ever since you went off with Karga. Did something happen?”
His helmet snaps towards you, as if he didn’t expect this line of questioning, “No, nothing happened. It went fine. And I am not avoiding you.”
You shrug one shoulder, trying to think what else it could be. Honestly, you thought he had been acting a little unusual since before he left. Other than the mission, the only thing that had gone on was landing on Nevarro in the first place, and then taking the Child to school. Realization dawns on you. Oh, right.
“Is it what the teacher said?” Your voice is quiet, eyes searching his helmet. “That I was the Child’s mom?”
Din stilled, helmet turning slowly to face you. He hesitates before looking away, crossing his arms over his broad chest in a protective, and somewhat guilty, gesture.
“Kriff, Din. I told you I didn’t ask her to call me his mother. I would never.” You didn’t mean to sound angry, but you did, “Are you still upset about that?”
You knew perfectly well what the situation was. You had been traveling with the two of them for months, you knew how complicated things were. The only reason you hadn’t corrected or denied it was to keep the Child safe. He had to know that.
But it still hurt a little, that he would react in such a way. That he would reject the idea of you being mistaken as a motherly figure so utterly, so completely that it caused a physical reaction from him. You thought the two of you were closer than that, but you suppose you misunderstood. This realization only adds fuel to your already building irritation.
“No,” Din’s voice was rough, as if he was grating his teeth behind the helmet. “I wasn’t… upset.”
“Then what were you?” You raised your eyebrows, “You sure as hell didn’t seem happy about it. I don’t know why you’re mad at me. I didn’t-”
“I’m not mad. I wasn’t mad.” He interrupts you with a snarl, temper getting the better of him.
“Then what?” You press, arms folding defensively.
He makes a frustrated sound, one hand raising to slide over the top of his helmet uncomfortably, his shoulders curving in on himself.
“What? Did it make you upset?” You knew you were being ridiculous, but you were too wound up to stop. “Sad? Were you annoyed?”
“No, I-.” He’s shifting uncomfortably, but you keep pushing.
“Did you like it?” You throw this emotion out at random, dead set on asking every possible combination until he answers.
“Y-Yes.” He breaks under your pressure, the word sliding out as a quiet, low groan.
Oh. You blink as a heavy silence fills the room, and you sense that Din did not mean to say that out loud. And you were certainly not expecting that answer. You lick your lip, the burning anger fading to just a small, smoldering flame. Not angry anymore, but you’re still annoyed and more than a little curious, and you’re not ready to let it go just yet.
“You, uh... liked that she thought I was the Child’s mom?”
“Drop it.” He warns, pointing a finger at you and quickly making towards the door.
You are closer and just a hair faster, beating him to the doorway and throwing out your arms to block him. He hesitates, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. This was interesting, was Mando actually flustered?
“Or did you like thinking I was the mother of your child?” Your voice drops as your hip pushes out, blocking more of the exit.
“Don’t push me.” His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it, practically a growl.
“Or what?” You taunt, your self-preservation disappearing faster than credits at a sabacc table, “You’ll fuck a baby into me?”
The silence that fills the room is absolutely deafening.
The two of you state wordlessly at each other for a long moment, until something in him snaps. His posture changes, shoulders uncurling, waves of anger radiating off him.
“You are going to regret that smart mouth.” He vows softly, taking a menacing step towards you, crowding your space.
You take a step back, your self-satisfied smirk dropping from your lips. Kriff, you may have just pushed too far. His hand closes on your upper arm, tugging you forcefully back into the room while slamming the control panel to the door with the other. The door slides shut with a hiss as you stumble, hitting the edge of the bunk and falling back.
He lets go and you drop, landing on the padded mattress with a short squeak, scrambling to push yourself up on your elbows.
Din towers over you, stomping angrily until he’s standing in front of you. Gazing at him, your eyes travel up his legs, sweeping over the Beskar armor, moving up and up. Your eyes snag on his waist, at the heavy bulge straining against the fabric of his dark flight suit.
His glove-clad hand passes over it almost unconsciously, large hand cupping over his erection and squeezing it in his palm.
Your gaze raises to meet his helmet, cheeks flushing and eyes filling with heat. He bends, placing a knee on the bed between your thighs and pressing against you until your breath is catching and your lips are parting with a soft moan.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” His voice is like honey, gliding over your skin.
You stare up at him, eyes wide, taking in the tilt of his helmet, the glint of his armor, and those wide, broad shoulders. Kriff, he was a sight, and you’d run your mouth every day if he meant he’d tower over you like this. But at the moment, your words are stuck in your throat.
“Where did your fight go, mesh’la?” He taunts. “Don’t dish out what you can’t take.”
His knee digs into your center, pressing the seam of your pants along your slit. Your legs fall open, looking down as his hands reach for you, fingers wrapping around the hem of your shirt as he tugs it off of you.
As soon as your arms are free again, you are grabbing at your trousers and undergarments, ripping them down your legs at the same time as you kick your boots off. Fully bare, you lean back on your elbows, legs spread and bracketing his thick thighs.
He pauses now, helmet tipping down to view your soft, warm skin, scanning slowly past your heaving breasts, right down to your spread thighs, arousal already dampening your center. He hums, fingers digging into your thighs.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You try to growl, but there’s no anger left to back it up. Just a raw, animalistic need to have this man in you, now.
He chuckles, low in his throat as he eases back, standing at the edge of the bed. Ripping his gloves off, you sigh as his bare hands wrap around your thighs again, yanking you down the bunk until your hips are level with his.
“Always so needy.” He hums, only now reaching to undo his belt and pull up his flak jacket, his other hand sliding down the zipper of his flight suit. Slowly he reaches in to pull himself out, revealing his hot, thick length. .
You loved his bare skin against yours, late at night with the lights turned off. The feeling of his lips against yours, the curls of his hair, mapping his face with your fingertips as he rocked into you. But there was something about him in his amour, covered except his hands and his cock, that made you absolutely feral.
He holds his erection over you, using the flushed tip to slide up between your folds, bumping against the nub of your clit. Your teeth bite down on your lip as you watch, his tip glistening with the slick from between your thighs.
Din moves his fist, wrapping it around the base of his shaft as he measures himself against you, seeing just how far his cock will reach inside you. He hums deep in his throats as his velvety length brushes against your skin, curving up and towards your belly.
“Think you can take all of it, sweet girl?” He coos, jerking himself over you.
You nod, lifting your hip up to rub against him. His fingers dip down to your core, brushing up your slit and feeling your arousal. His thick finger sinks into you, pumping in and out a few times before a second one slips in to join it, his palm already damp with your slick.
“Oh you’re so wet, sweet girl.” He marvels, his fingers curling and scissoring you apart. “I bet you can take me just like this.”
Usually Din will drag this part out, will fuck you with his fingers and tongue into you are a whimpering, panting mess. Only filling you with his cock when you are exhausted and spent, his length coated in your release as he enters you. But sometimes, like tonight, he can’t afford to wait that long, he needs to move, needs you to just take him. And you will.
Din lines himself up, pressing the tip into your entrance. He shifts his hips forwards and it does sting some, but he’s come to know your body better than yourself, and what it can take. With another push he sinks into you with a long, slow stroke, all the way to the hilt. You pant and gasp around him, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his impressive girth and length.
His fingers trail up your chest, pressing against your lips and you open, letting them slide in to press down on your tongue and teeth. You both moan, your lips closing and sucking on his digits, tasting yourself. He watches, completely entranced by the way your cheeks hollow as you suck on him, how your tongue traces his calloused fingertips.
Fingers withdrawing, he seems to consider something for a moment before beginning to move, pulling himself out half-way before slamming back in. The smack and your gasp fills the air, and his hand tightens on your waist as he repeats the motion.
“I-I can’t take it, I’m sorry-” he breathes, voice hoarse, “I have to tell you-”
You purposely clench around him, tightening your muscles around his cock and beg, “Tell me.”
“Fuck, ever since that woman said-,” he groans, the confession tumbling from his lips. “C-called you his mother, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Tell me what you think about.” You beg, rocking up against him, meeting his thrusts. “Do you think about fucking me, spilling your seed into me?”
“Maker, you can’t say things like that.” He groans hopelessly, head dropping down toward his chest.
You hum smugly at his reaction, one of your hands reaching to cover his with a squeeze, “Tell me, please.”
He moans at your words, hip stuttering as he loses his rhythm, “I-I think about-”
You spread your thighs wider to take him in deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust with your hips.
“H-How your sweet tits will get nice and swollen with milk,” his hands move up your waist, brushing over your ribs to squeeze your breasts with his large hands, making you groan. His thumbs circle over your tight nipples, feeling them stiffen into peaks.
“How your belly will grow with our child,” he pants, voice heavy against your skin. “Everyone will know you are mine.”
He’s picking up confidence and speed at your reactions, thrusting until he is pounding into you. His hands follow the curves of your hips, wrapping around your waist and pressing down hard, anchoring you to the bed.
“Makes me want to fuck you every day until you’re pregnant and full with my come.” He enunciates his fantasies with sharp thrusts, his cock bumping places deep within you.
You knew this was pretend, something just in this moment. This wasn’t your first time with Din, there’d been plenty of other times when he’d been buried so deep in you that you’d walk funny the next day. You knew just how much he loved coming in you, often choosing your wet cunt over your mouth when it was offered. He loved the way you looked, sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving as his spend leaked out of you.
He knew you had an implant, it was something you’d discussed before. But fuck, the way he was talking made you want to book the next open appointment at the nearest Medcenter.
Your belly tightens, his words and the current angle of his cock doing magical things to your insides and he rocks against that spot within you.
“Fuck,” you growl, hands gripping the sheet so tight it makes your joints ache. “I’m close, Din, please.”
He hums, his hand reaching down so he can feel the way you’re split open on his cock, before moving up and resting against your clit. He circles the sensitive bud with his thumb, making you keen under him.
Din loves seeing you like this, laid out on his bunk under him. Your hair spread out, a beautiful pink flush working from your pretty face down to the soft curves of your breasts. The way your body responds to him, craves him, always needing more and more. Always ready for anything and everything he can give you.
“Please what, pretty girl?” He asks, voice silky soft. He makes you ask, teases you as you beg, teetering just on the edge. Holding you taut as a bowstring, until he is ready to give you the release you need.
“Please let me come.” You beg, like he knew you will.
“Hmm, I don’t think so.” He hums slowly, shaking his head, “You were so bad earlier, pushing me like that. You know only good girls get to come.”
He growls, helmet tipping down to take you in, split open on his cock, “And I don’t think you’ve been good at all, sweet girl.”
Maker, his words, some of the things he says is enough to get you off. You reach down, managing to touch yourself for a brief, glorious moment before he grabs your wrists, pulling them above your head. One strong hand secures them there, trapped tightly within his grip.
“Stars, I-I’ll do anything.” You grit out, fighting against his hold on your wrists. He makes a deep sound in his throat, almost a chuckle.
“Anything, mesh’la?” His voice is dangerously dark, “You’ll let me fill you full of warriors?”
“Yes!” You cry out, tears pricking your eyes with frustration, “Make me yours, make me come, please.”
He relents, holding your wrists for just a moment longer before releasing them. Silently letting you know this was his decision, that he’s allowing you to come.
“Just remember, when you’re pretty and swollen with my child,” He grips your body, pulling your thighs around his hips, “That you asked for this. Begged for me to breed you.”
“Yes,” Your eyes roll back in your head. “Fuck me with your big cock. Breed me.”
“Such a good girl.” He croons, one hand sliding down your thigh while the other returns to your clit.
It only takes a moment of his talented fingers touching you before you’re having the best orgasm of your kriffing life, legs seizing up as your back bows off the bed. Your cunt clenches around his thick cock, gripping him tightly as your walls spasm around him. The groan that comes out from your lips is other-wordly, the sound of someone completely, utterly satisfied.
As your legs begin to relax he pulls out of you, leaving you empty and clenching. His strong arms circle your waist, flipping your body and pushing you up and onto your hands and knees. You take a moment to steady yourself on wobbly thighs, head dropping to the mattress to catch your breath. He moves to stand behind you, lining his cock up to your soaking entrance.
“Oh, it’s like you were made for this.” He sighs, slowly pressing into you with one long, deep stroke. “Made just to take my thick cock.”
He fills you completely, stroking deeper into you with his new angle. His hand grip your hips, fingers sinking into your flesh as he yanks you back to meet him.
Your breaths fill the air as he fucks into you, his head thrown back as you take him, his cock appearing and then disappearing into your heat with each stroke. The room is filled with wet, obscene sounds as he pounds into you, his heavy balls slapping against your skin.
“So tight, so perfect.” The praise tumbles from his lips, making you keen with pleasure. Always so generous with words when it’s the just two of you, so different that the stoic Mandalorian he presents to the world.
Angling yourself down, you press your shoulders into the mattress, turning your head to watch him. He’s a work of art, broad shoulders and a trim waist, his tanned hands splaying across your skin. The closest thing to a god that you’d ever seen.
He notices you watching and he stutters, thrown off rhythm by your worshipful gaze. Your jaw goes slack as he hits that spot within you again, making your eyes roll back in your head.
“Keep going,” You groan loudly, eyes fluttering open, “F-feels so good, no one fucks me like you do.”
“Fuck, sweet girl.” He moans, helmet dipping to press into your shoulder. “I-I’m so close, want to fill you. Fill your sweet cunt with my come.”
Your head turns and your mouth falls open, eyes closing again as you moan into the mattress, hands clenching in the fabric.
“Please Din,” you beg, “Need you to, please.”
Your words do him in and he shudders, a low whine ripping from his throat. His hips snap bruisingly into yours, flattening you roughly into the mattress as he ruts wildly into you.
His moan is guttural when he comes, a deep, animalistic sound that makes your toes curl. Din’s cock flexes in you, jerking as he spills his hot and wet release against your inner walls. Chest heaving, he grinds his hips against yours as he makes sloppy, short thrusts, letting your tight cunt milk him dry.
His hips move one more time, pressing as deep into you as he can before he rolls to the side, taking you with him. You land sideways on the mattress, his cock still filling you, holding all of his come in.
“Such a good fucking girl.” He repeats quietly, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly against his chest.
Eventually he softens, and eases himself gently out of you. His come starts to leak out, staining your thighs with his release. You hear the rustle of fabric as he tucks himself away, before his thick fingers are gathering his come and pressing it back into your sensitive pussy.
“Hold it all in, cyar’ika.” He grunts, fingers sinking into your wet heat, “Don’t waste a single drop.”
You groan, flexing around him as he repeats the gesture. Once he is satisfied, his hand drops to the lower curve of your stomach, hand splaying out across your abdomen. His fingers trace your skin, brushing across the soft skin, feeling your soft curves.
After a long moment you turn, shuffling your body around until you’re facing each other, your hands tucking under your cheek. You gaze at him a long time, over the strong curves of his helmet, the dark tint of his visor, completely content. You can sense that he is doing the same, mapping out your face, memorizing every feature.
“Maybe,” you whisper as you reach for him, your fingers curling against the hot skin on the back of his neck. “Maybe we-, well, I could... get my implant out. At the next planet.”
Din’s head turns slowly, helmet tilting down to face you, almost in wonder. He takes your hand, pressing it against his groin, letting you feel his cock starting to again harden already. You gasp as he chuckles, the sound a deep rumble in your ear.
“Just make sure you know what you’re asking for, cyar’ika. You won’t leave this bunk for weeks.”
You smile - that would be just fine with you.