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for such a stoic man, din got flustered remarkably easily. a single dirty comment from you sent him stuttering. he was a bounty hunter, he didn't know how to cope with the bartender of the guild's cantina flirting with him.
it didn't even take a dirty comment.
"you know," you drawled, tracing the rim of an abandoned cup a few seats down. din was unsure at first if you were talking to him, until you shot him a sharp grin. "i bet you have pretty eyes."
he paused. "thank you?"
your smile was sly, constantly etched into his brain. no matter where he was, he never stopped think about you. it was like a curse.
"so," you grabbed the empty glass, putting it into the sink before moving to stand across from mando. "you here for a drink? or for my lovely company?"
why was he at the bar? he couldn't take off his helmet. din felt stupid. he had always been so careful, thinking through every movement, every interaction. when it came to you, he might as well have been a lovestruck schoolboy. except for his kill count. he hoped.
"i'm waiting for greef," he said finally, the half-lie slipping off his tongue easily.
"and you decided to remain in my lovely company for the time being? i'm flattered." your teasing grin slipped into something a little more genuine as you placed your hand briefly over his.
it was just a touch, din reminded himself. some people are more physically affectionate. but he couldn't deny the way electricity seemed to race through his nerves when your hand brushed over the little bare patch of skin at the edge of his glove.
his curse had his mind racing and face warming.
you busied yourself with the rest of the bar, topping off drinks. you grabbed of small pack of jerky you always got for mando, passing it to him. he'd eat them later.
you pulled up a chair when you managed to nab a break, sitting and slumping into the counter, your chin resting on your folded arms.
the pair of you didn't need to talk. there was something comforting about the other's company.
din trusted you. he had from the moment he met you.
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food. din needed food. the bounties were slow and far between this season, and the covert had new foundlings to feed. he offered the credits to the stall and the seller made a face. the seller grabbed back her produce and shook her head.
he counted his credits before shoving them back into its pouch. he didn't have enough for anything.
"excuse me," someone lightly touched his pauldron and he jerked away.
"i'm sorry, but i noticed you needed food-"
he had already started walking away. din was a proud man, he couldn't stand to even look at you, he didn't want to see the pity in your eyes.
"hey!" you darted ahead of him, planting yourself in his way. "i need help moving inventory. i don't have credits to pay for the work, but i do have some preserved food that never sold." you stared up at him, not even a hint of pity in your gaze.
din recognized you. not from the cantina, but from the streets. he saw you making a bet to a not-yet-foundling, some stupid kid's game. you bet two days worth of meals. and purposely lost. you made a show of being disappointed, letting the kid whoop and holler and tease you. you smiled the second the kid turned his back.
"fine," din said. you smiled. "but you're a bad liar." you tilted your head before flushing when he looked you up and down. "you don't need help moving inventory." a sly grin pulled itself across your lips, carving itself into his brain.
"well, you could always sit there and look pretty if that suits you better."
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greef entered the cantina and you glanced at him. he grinned, offering a wave as he called out your name.
"--and mando," he added, sliding into the seat besides mando.
you stood in front of greef, waiting for him to tell you- "the usual," he said, giving you a suave, businessman smile. and a few credits. greef had always liked to think that it was his wit and charm that made him so powerful, and they were-- as far as your wages were concerned.
you slid off to find the ingredients for greef's drink.
the drink itself was simple, a spirit and a bitter. it was nothing remarkable, a lot like nevarro. the real star was the fruit used for the rim. you gave the yellow fruit a nostalgic little smile before serving the drink.
"you're lucky you ordered that drink when you did. that's the last fruit we have in stock." your gaze lifted for a moment, finding mando's visor fixed on you. maybe there was something remarkable about nevarro after all.
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"moving inventory, again?" you two still had the deal a few years later. always the same day, same time.
you yawned as mando emerged from the shadows like he always did. he'd caught you off-guard the first couple times, your startled little yelp drawing a quiet laugh almost smothered by his modulator.
"unless you have any other ideas for extracurriculars," you stretched, pushing your interlocked hands up.
"i can name a few," he said, gaze following the curve of your body where your shirt had ridden up.
his tone was what caught your attention. it was smoother than well-aged brandy and at least five times as warm on the way down. "mando," you teased, ignoring how his words made your knees weak. "was that you flirting?"
your smile was there again. he moved forwards without thinking, pulling his glove off, hand cradling your chin and his thumb brushing over your lip. your breath came deeper, your chest rising and falling, brushing lightly against his armor. "it's a lot more than just flirting," mando responded finally, his whisper almost lost beneath his modulator. it was an offer, a question, wavering in the little space between the two of you like a lit match, waiting to grow into an inferno.
for a moment, neither of you moved, too cautious of the emotions that burned in the both of you. you grasped his hand, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand.
he made a noise at that, halfway between a groan and a whimper. "your room." his voice was urgent, as demanding as his arm that snaked around you, pulling you along with him. mando knows where your room is; he's been there before. he locked the door behind you two.
his hands were clumsy, desperate as he fumbled with your clothes.
he glanced back up at you and seemingly froze.
the light from the setting nevarro sun slanted in through the window of your room, catching you in golden light. your clothes draped like molten metal, folding under your grip as you helped him pull them off.
"i think i'm cursed," he said, and you looked at him strangely. you turned around, lifting a hand to cover your eyes.
"cursed?" din made quick work of his armor, the steel hitting the rug with a dull thunk. his voice was unhindered by his helmet when he spoke again, and he watched you shiver.
"my curse," he whispered into the crook of your neck, lips tracing old scars and burns that dotted your skin like stars. "is that i can never stop thinking about you." you can feel his hair brush against your neck, impossibly soft curls brushing against you like clouds. you bring up another hand to hide a whine that he hears anyway.
"have you thought about this?" your voice is muffled but he can hear it clearly.
"every night." he's thought about you every night since the first week you'd known each other, and it started innocent enough. din thought about fleeting touches and chaste kisses, the way your eyes would sparkle if the two of you were on a forest planet, or an ocean planet. then the thoughts took a turn when he lay in bed on the cusp of dreaming. din thought about how you would look under him, the planes and curves of your body all slicked in sweat, how your eyes would sparkle looking up at him from where you would kneel in front of him, using your pretty mouth. he thought about how you would cry out his name, a gasping, moaning prayer as your legs wrapped around his head. he could never stop thinking about you. he was cursed, from the moment you met, and he never wanted this curse to be lifted.
he pushed you into the bed, pulling your hips up as you grasped the sheets. you could hear your heartbeat.
his hand curled into your hair, tugging lightly and strangely, you didn't mind. he pressed your head further into the pillow, his breath hitching as he heard a pleased sound erupt from you. his free hand clutched your thigh before moving up and tracing his thumb over the swell of your hip. something brushed against the apex of your thighs and you gasped out a plea he happily fulfilled.
mando plunged in, in, so big you thought you might break in two. he gasped your name, his voice so warm and sweet when unconfined by his helmet. "can i move?"
you could barely give him an affirmation. "mhmm," you hummed, voice high and breathy. and he began to move, pulling out and pushing in, until his hips lay flush against you.
and, for a split second, you wish you were on your back instead, able to wrap your legs around him and pull him closer, further in, because you swear that this is the only time you've only felt truly complete.
he spoke again. "din," he said. "my name is din. he pushed in again, hitting a spot that made you see stars, like there was no roof over your room, only the vast open skies of nevarro, and you cried out his name. his grip tightened further, pace stuttering.
"din," you whispered, his name like a prayer on your lips, even as you shuddered and the world became bright, as your body seemed to spasm under waves of pleasure, as din painted your insides. "din," you whispered, and he turned you over and pressed his lips to yours.