Archive of Our Own

It was hot. Not as obscenely hot as some of the other planets that Migs had been on, but certainly not his first choice in climate, either.

He and Din had been hiking through the humid jungle for a while now, making their way to the nearest town to resupply their rations and possibly find some work. With how thick the trees and foliage were on this skughole of a planet, Din had no choice but to park them further out, where the clearing was large enough to fit his entire ship. Migs knew it was the only way, but damn if he didn’t wish this hike was a lot shorter.

As they trudged through the dense leaves and branches, Migs swatted bugs and wiped sweat from his face, the nasty element of the jungle really starting to get on his nerves. On one hand, he was jealous of Din, that he was protected from all the bug bites and little cuts and scrapes from passing branches, but on the other, Migs was genuinely wondering how the man hadn’t passed out from carrying all that extra weight on his body.

“Are we there yet?” Migs asked petulantly, already knowing the answer, considering that he’d asked the question so many times.

“No.” Din answered patiently, which was astounding, considering how annoying Migs was making sure to be. It was Din’s idea to land all the way out here, so Migs had been giving him hell ever since they touched down, letting him know just how displeased he was with the whole situation.

“Any idea when we’re going to get there?” he asked, and Din sighed.

“The holomap says that we are about an hour out.” Din said, looking to his vambrace.

Migs sighed dramatically, “Just end me now.”

Din said nothing in response, but Migs could tell that he was rolling his eyes just as dramatically behind his helmet.

“Can’t we take a little break? Maybe drink some water or something?” Migs asked, nudging Din’s shoulder with his own, “We’re going to die if we don’t rehydrate from all this fucking sweating we’re doing.”

Din sighed, “Fine. Five minutes, then we’re back on the road.”

Migs scoffed, “What road? There’s nothing but fucking shrubs and man-eating plants around here.” He said, sitting down on a fallen log and pulling his flask of water off of his belt. He took a full drink then held it out to Din, “Care for a drop?”

Din took the flask and sat down next to Migs, “Thanks.” He took his helmet off and sat it down on the log next to him before taking a long gulp of Migs’ flask, his throat bobbing as he swallowed it down. Not that Migs was watching, or anything.

It was still a little jarring, seeing Din take off his helmet so readily like that. Sure, the two of them had become friends after working together for a while, and Din had gotten to the point that he didn’t mind removing his helmet so long as it was only Migs around, but it still almost felt like witnessing something sacred. Something that Migs, of all people, should’ve never been able to see once, let alone multiple times.

When Din stopped drinking, he lowered the flask and let out a sigh, the small bit of hydration already making him look better than when they’d first stopped.

“See? Aren’t you glad I said something?” Migs teased, taking the flask back and swallowing down another gulp.

Din nodded, “I guess I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

“Yea, you do that a lot when you're focused, you know.” Migs responded with a casual bump of their shoulders, “You should really take better care of yourself, if you ask me.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Din’s lips, “Why take care of myself when I’ve got you hovering over me like a mother nuna?”

Migs rolled his eyes, “Very funny. You should be ashamed, considering me the better caretaker of us two. I can't handle that kind of responsibility.”

Din sighed, leaning his head back against the wide tree behind them and closing his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, and it really gave Migs a chance to take in the jungle around them fully.

“Wow,” he said, “this place is actually pretty cool.”

Din gave a hum of agreement, “Yes. It’s peaceful.”

“Yea, and these plants are insane.” Migs said, looking around at the vibrant colors surrounding them. A particularly bright purple flower on the ground next to his feet caught his eye, and he bent over to pick it, inspecting it as he lifted it up. The petals of the flower were the bright purple color, but the underside of the plant was dark red, shaped kind of like a bell at the base. “Din, take a look at this.” He said casually, holding the flower out for Din to see the undersides of the petals, “I wonder why it’s red underneath like that.”

Din shrugged, looking at the little flower, “Maybe it’s a warning. Red usually means ‘stay away’.”

“Yea, but why under the petals? You’d think that the topside would be red, if it was a warning. But the tops of the petals are purple, see?” he said, turning the flower toward them, “It’s—ahh!” he shouted as the flower let out a burst of fine dust, hitting both Migs and Din squarely in the face.

Migs sputtered and wiped at his face, trying to get the clingy particles off of him, but with how sweaty he was, the dusty substance wasn’t going anywhere. Din was in a similar boat, coughing as his lungs tried to expel the particles, wiping his face in the crook of his arm to try and clear it off.

“What the kriff was that?” Migs asked with annoyance. He looked down at the flower, and noted that the tops of the petals were now red as well, the bell-shaped part of the flower looking as though it was deflated. Migs tossed the flower away, not wanting the same thing to happen again.

Din coughed, “Whatever it was, I sure hope it wasn’t poisonous.”

They sat silently for a moment, waiting for any sharp pain or discomfort, but nothing happened. Eventually, Migs shrugged, standing up from the log and offering Din a hand, “Well, I guess we’re ok, for now. Probably just some pollen or spores. We should probably start heading toward the town, though, just in case.”

Din took his hand and hauled himself up, slipping his helmet back over his head and nodding, “Yea, good idea.”

The two of them started walking, Din pulling up his holomap once again while Migs threw one last wary look at the flower over his shoulder. Hopefully, it was nothing, and the two of them could forget about it.

=-=-=-=-=-=

It wasn’t until about five minutes later that Migs started to feel something… odd.

His whole body felt tingly, and he started to fall behind, eyes plastered to Din’s back as he walked. The way that his strong legs carried him through thick foliage, hips swaying slightly with each step was utterly enticing to witness. His shoulders were so broad and his hips were so slim, his ass absolute perfection in those pants.

With a shake of his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. Why couldn’t he stop staring? And why were his pants suddenly so tight?

He looked down and noticed the bulge tenting the front of his slacks, and his eyes bugged. Was he seriously getting horny for Din now? Not that he hadn’t admired the man before, but really? His body decided to fantasize about him right now? That was something to do when he was alone, late at night, after a job well done; not walking behind Din and staring at him like some kind of creep.

Din’s steps started to slow until he started swaying on his feet ever-so-slightly, eventually coming to a stop in the middle of a clearing. Migs stopped a couple paces behind him, watching him warily, and hoping to all things holy that the man wouldn’t notice his current state.

The Mandalorian slowly turned toward him, and Migs’ breathing came even faster. Holy hells, this man was hot. His presence really did something to Migs, making him want to be bent over the nearest surface and pounded into next week by the man. Maybe it was the armor, or maybe it was that soft face he knew was hidden behind the beskar. Either way, Migs knew he was utterly lost on the Mandalorian—a fact the other could probably read in the obvious expression Migs was directing his way.

“Migs?” Din asked, and damn, his voice was so raspy and sexy. Migs just wanted to drop to his knees and—

“Yea?” he responded eventually, still frozen in place.

“Something isn’t right.”

“Yea.”

“… I feel… funny.”

“Yea.” Migs blinked a couple times, “You do?” when Din nodded to him, he made an ‘ah’ sound, “Crazy, because I feel kinda funny too.”

“I think… I think that flower might’ve poisoned us, or something.” Din said, his voice somehow sounding even more appealing than usual.

It was only when Migs looked down and saw the matching bulge in the front of Din’s pants that he started putting things together.

“Oh kriff.” He exclaimed, putting a hand to his forehead.

“What is it?” Din said, taking a step closer to him, “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

Migs paused at the other’s concerned tone, then shook his head, “No, I'm fine. Well, I mean, technically, both of us are fine, but I think I might know what’s going on.” At Din’s tilted head, Migs continued, “I think… I think we were hit with a sex pollen, or something?”

“Sex pollen?” Din asked, voice incredulous, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen,” Migs cut in, “I read about it somewhere—there are these plants that can secrete a kind of pollen that makes people super horny.”

“That seems unrealistic.” Din responded, folding his arms over his chest. He was quiet for a moment, and Migs could practically hear the way his singular eyebrow raised accusingly, “Where would you have even read about sex pollen, anyways?” he asked, a slight teasing lilt in his voice.

Migs sputtered, his cheeks going red, “Look, that doesn’t kriffing matter, now does it? All I know is that I'm horny, you're obviously horny,” he said, gesturing to Din’s crotch, “and we were both hit with some kind of dust that a flower sprayed in our faces. The math adds up, doesn’t it?”

Din sighed, “I guess, but...” he hesitated, “I'm almost afraid to ask, but, what do we do to stop it?”

Migs cocked his head, “Well, from what I've read, in completely legitimate sources, mind you, is that we have to… fuck it out of our systems.”

Din stood stock still for a moment, and Migs bit his lip in anticipation. What was his face doing behind that helmet? Was he mad? Nervous? Excited? Migs himself was practically thrumming with anticipation—he’d been wanting to sex the Mando up for months now, though he’d never had the courage to approach him before.

Finally, Din sighed, starting to pull his bandolier off, “Fine.”

Something leaped inside of Migs’ chest at the word, his stomach fluttering as he started to set aside his own weapons and harnesses. Considering the environment, it probably wasn’t the best idea for them to get completely naked, but they couldn’t keep everything on, either.

Din detached his jetpack and set it aside, unlatching his cape and laying it out on the ground. A good idea, really. One that Migs should’ve thought of first, considering that he probably had the most experience of the two. Speaking of…

“Have you ever done this before?”

Din sighed, then shook his head, “No.” he gestured to Migs, “I'm assuming you have?”

“Plenty of times.” Migs assured, “I’ll make it good; don’t you worry.”

“I hope so.”

Honestly, Migs was a little shocked that Din wasn’t fighting him on this. He had agreed to Migs’ solution quite quickly, especially considering that he had no experience with sex. It must've been the pollen clouding his judgment, Migs assumed; otherwise, Din would've never agreed to the situation. Normally, Din would've been pressing for them to keep walking, even despite the symptoms they had. He must've been pretty far gone, usually one to push through pain or discomfort to finish an objective.

Migs gave a small nod, “Alright then. Do you want your helmet on?”

Din hesitated, “I think… I’d like to keep it on, for now.”

Migs nodded again, “Ok, no problem, buddy. Just… undress as much as you're comfortable, then lay down. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Din gave a jerky nod, then started to rapidly remove his leg, arm, and chest armor, as well as his holster and munitions belt, leaving him in his flight suit and helmet before sitting down on his cape. Migs was hoping to see a little more skin, for purely selfish reasons, but this would do. Not that he was picky, or anything.

Probably for the best, anyways—if he saw Din naked, he was certain that nobody else would live up to his expectations. His quick tosses in the sheets with strangers wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying once he couldn’t pretend those strangers were Din, and it would be impossible to pretend after learning what his body really looked like. After that, only the real thing would do it for him, no other partner a good substitute. So really, Din keeping his clothes on was a blessing in disguise.

Migs started to undress himself as well, then paused, wanting this to be good for Din. “How naked do you want me?” he asked, then cursed himself for his lack of tact, “I mean, how much would you be ok with me taking off? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, is all.”

“Uh… I guess, I mean… you could take all of it off…” Din said timidly, “Or, I mean, you could, if you wanted to.” He corrected, shrugging and ducking his head with what seemed to be embarrassment.

Migs blushed, “Ok, no problem, brown eyes.” He started to pull off the small bits of armor that Din had gifted him, setting them down gently before starting on his jacket, scarf, and shirt. With Din watching him so raptly, Migs’ breathing picked up, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He hadn’t been this turned on in years, decades even. How the hell did Din have this kind of effect on him?

No, not Din. It was the plant, right? Sure, Migs liked Din, but not this intensely…

He blinked a few times, clearing his thoughts, and putting his effort back into the little strip tease that he was able to treat Din to. Not that he was much to look at, but Din said he wouldn’t mind seeing all of his body, so Migs was going to give him the full experience.

When he was shirtless, Din’s shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, his breath quick and shallow as he watched on, completely enraptured. Migs wished more than anything that he could see his face in that moment, if only to make sure Din was still in this with him. Maybe he was nervous, or maybe he was even disgusted, but it was impossible to tell with that damn helmet covering his impression.

“You ok, Din?” he asked, thumbing the clasp of his pants, fingers hooked around the hem of his waistline.

Din gave a shaky nod, clamping his legs together, hips shifting minutely, “Y-yea.”

“Ok,” Migs responded, “alright.” it was all he could say, no other words forming on his tongue as he noted the desperate tone of Din’s voice. Damn, that flower must be doing numbers on him if this was getting the stone-cold Mandalorian so worked up.

With a small bit of teasing, Migs unclasped his pants slowly and lowered them down, taking his underwear and boots off in the same downward motion. He stepped out of his clothing and stood in front of Din, cock achingly hard against his stomach, completely exposed from head to ankle (he kept his socks on—it was still a jungle, after all).

He had never been self-conscious, per se, but he wasn’t exactly confident in his body either. Like he said before, he wasn’t much to look at, but with the way he could feel Din practically eating him alive with his eyes, his own nervousness became far outweighed by his sheer need to be as close to Din as possible.

He lowered himself down so that he was straddling Din’s hips with his thighs, his bare body pressed against Din’s clothed one in a way that would've been uncomfortable, had the friction on his cock not been so desperately needed in the moment. This close, he could hear Din’s labored breathing beneath his helmet, his throat working to swallow fully exposed without his cowl to hide it away. Migs was tempted to lean in and lick the sweat that had formed on the column of his neck, just to be able to say that he’d tasted the skin of the man that he wanted all to himself.

And, why the hell not? They were supposed to be giving into their urges, right?

So, Migs did exactly what his mind told him to, and he pressed his mouth against Din’s neck, licking, sucking, and kissing the skin hungrily. The man beneath him writhed and moaned, making sounds that Migs was definitely squaring away in his mind for later use. His hips moved against Din’s on their own accord, cock grinding against the hard bulge at the front of Din’s pants.

He pulled away from Din’s neck, “Fuck, you're perfect. So hard for me already… just wait until you see what I have in store for you.” he kissed his neck again, wishing it was his lips instead, “I'm gonna make you scream my name by the end of this—mark my words.”

Din moaned even louder beneath him, his own hips bucking up to meet Migs’ languid grinding. “P-please…” he whined, and Migs felt his stomach flutter. He’d never heard the Mandalorian beg, and definitely hadn’t heard him sound so desperate before.

Damn was it sexy.

Migs made a sound not unlike a growl before lowering himself down until his face was even with Din’s bulging crotch, then mouthing the fabric with a groan. Even through his pants, Din was so warm and firm, and Migs wanted to get his cock in his mouth so badly, like it was the most important thing in the world at that moment.

Once again, he wondered why he was fighting it, then gave in to his urges.

He wrestled with the front of Din’s pants, some kind of foreign, indestructible undoubtedly-Mandalorian clasping mechanism only slowing him down for a moment before he figured it out, then pulled Din’s cock out through the front. He was already leaking, the head nearly purple and the shaft rock-hard, putting even Migs’ erection to shame.

That flower was insane.

With only a moment’s pause to look up at Din, meeting where he knew the Mandalorian’s eyes were beneath that visor, Migs took the head into his mouth, suckling softly, tongue dipping into the slit to gather the precum that beaded up. He kept his eyes on Din as he slowly lowered his head, relishing in the way that Din’s breathing picked up with each slow inch he went down. By the time the tip was brushing the back of his throat, Migs’ nose nestled in wiry hair, Din was practically hyperventilating.

He could only imagine the look on his face, Migs’ wild imagination taking the reins not for the first time when it came to Din. He’d had plenty of daydreams, and regular dreams, about the man in situations just like this one, so he was well-equipped to fill in the expression that he was currently missing out on.

He bobbed his head slowly at first, wanting to make this as good as possible for the man, assuming that this was his first time getting a blowjob. Well, maybe not, considering that it was mostly an impersonal thing, and he didn’t have to remove his armor for it. Surely that much was allowed with his no-helmet-removing creed, right? Though, he wouldn’t know either way—it wasn’t like the two of them talked about sex, or really anything intimate, for that matter. It was all business between them.

Until now, anyways.

The sounds that Din let out as he worked his cock were absolutely breathtaking, even through the modulator in his helmet. Staticky moans and whimpers filled the air, causing Migs’ cock to become impossibly harder. He resisted the urge to touch himself, focusing on the task at hand while also keeping what he had planned at the forefront of his mind.

Before he could get to that, though, he had to help Din relax.

As much as he would love to have Din press him into the ground and fuck him into next week, the man had already told him that he didn’t have experience with penetrative sex, so it would be better to start off with Migs taking the lead. Of course, he was beyond thrilled with the idea of being Din’s first, though it was a bit daunting, knowing that he was going to be setting the standard for the guy’s future sexual endeavors.

He'd better do a damn good job, then.

Migs, making it his personal mission to wring an orgasm out of Din before they start, redoubled his efforts, his bobbing picking up speed until a fast pace was set for them. Din’s hips were bucking in small movements, his thighs twitching where the sides of Migs’ chest were resting against them, and Migs could tell the man was getting close. His breathing was erratic, hands twitching by his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

And, hell, he probably didn’t know what to do with them. Well, that just wouldn’t do, Migs decided, reaching forward and grabbing Din’s hand, placing it on the back of his head encouragingly. Din apparently got the message, and began to stroke his gloved fingers over Migs’ bald scalp, pulling him forward with only the slightest pressure.

Ok, so maybe he wasn’t getting the message.

Migs pulled off of his cock and smiled up at Din, catching his breath for a moment, “You can be rough with me—I don’t mind.”

Din let out a breathy gasp at the words, then gave a small nod. Taking that as answer enough, Migs got back to work, smiling around the cock in his mouth when Din’s other hand joined the one currently on his head, pulling him with more force as his hips started to thrust on their own accord.

Each second that passed apparently gave the man more confidence, and after testing Migs’ limits for a short while, and finding that Migs didn’t really have limits, he began fucking his throat desperately. Migs moaned around him, letting his throat go slack as tears slipped down his face, only his years and years of experience allowing him to fight back the overwhelming urge to choke and gag.

Din had wrapped his arms around Migs’ head, almost like he was hugging him against his crotch, as he fucked his hips rapidly. Right when Migs wasn’t sure if he could go any longer without taking a breath, Din let out a ragged groan, hips slowing down until they were simply twitching, his cock releasing its load right down Migs’ throat.

The sensation was one that Migs had gone without for a long time, and one that he’d been missing. Now, knowing that it was Din’s cum sliding down his throat was almost enough to send him into an early orgasm, but he managed to hold off, knowing what might be coming next.

Eventually, Din’s grip loosened on his head, and he pulled off with a gasping inhale, taking in lungfuls of air before coughing a few times.

“I'm so sorry!” Din said, reaching out but not touching Migs, “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t even…worry about it…brown eyes. That was… perfect.” Migs interrupted, smiling at Din as he continued to catch his breath, “Besides, I already told you, I like it rough.”

Din watched him for a moment, chest heaving, before letting his hand rest on Migs’ jaw. His thumb wiped away the drool and cum that had accumulated on his chin, the soft caresses making the sharpshooter’s cheeks turn bright red. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, especially from someone who had just fucked his throat.

“Uh, so, do you feel any better?” he asked timidly, trying and failing to not lean into the Mandalorian’s touch.

“I feel incredible.” Din said wistfully, “That was…” he cut himself off, as if remembering why they were here, “Uh, I don’t feel much different in terms of the side effects, though.”

Migs hummed, “I was afraid of that. That means we really do have to literally fuck it out of our systems.”

Din tilted his head, “I'm starting to doubt your sources…”

Migs sputtered, “Hey! Of the two of us, who knows the most about sex pollen?”

“You do.” Din said with a sigh, “Though, we don’t really know if—”

“Din, we've already done the math. I wasn’t horny before we got sprayed, and neither were you. Can you just work with me here?”

“Ok,” Din said, more seriously now, “what now?”

Migs bit his lip for a moment, “Well, our options are pretty limited. I was thinking… maybe… I could fuck you?” Din was silent, so Migs continued, “I mean, we don’t have to do it that way—you could fuck me, if that would be more comfortable for you, but—”

“Yes.” Din finally said, and Migs paused, blinking rapidly.

“What?”

Din nodded at him, “I said ‘yes’. To the first suggestion, that is.” He laid back a bit and started to fumble with his pants, his still-hard cock resting above the hemline. He wrestled them down a bit before Migs stepped in, helping to take off his boots, gently setting them aside before helping Din finish taking off his pants.

Seeing Din, laying there with his cock resting against his covered stomach, legs slightly parted while he rested his weight on his elbows propped up beneath him, Migs almost forgot how to breathe. Sure, it looked a little goofy, seeing the man completely naked from the waist down, but still wearing his upper flight suit, gloves, and helmet, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t the best thing Migs had ever laid his eyes on.

“Holy fuck…” Migs muttered to himself, though Din must've heard him, his cock twitching with interest at the words. Migs raised his eyebrows, “You seem a little eager yourself, huh?”

Din ducked his head, embarrassed, “Would you just do it already?”

“Hang on a second. Do you want your upper body exposed too? Or would you rather stay covered up like that?”

Din paused, considering for a moment, “I want the shirt off.”

Migs nodded, “Ok, sure.” He immediately started to help Din, pulling off his glove gently before sitting back to let Din unclasp it. If his pants were anything to go by, the shirt couldn’t have been intuitively made, either, so it was probably better to leave the more complicated bit to him. Once he had it undone, Migs helped to ease the padded suit off of his shoulders and down his arms, pulling it away and setting it with the rest of their clothes before turning back to look at Din.

Wow.

Words failed him as he took in the carefully sculpted body of the man before him. his thick thighs and toned stomach, rounded pecs and sturdy arms that showed exactly how strong the man beneath him was. He was right; nobody else could ever measure up, now that he'd seen Din like this.

“Holy shit, Din… you’re… you're beautiful.”

“No, I'm not.” Din said too quickly, and Migs furrowed his brow.

“How the hell do you figure? I'm the only one with an objective opinion right now, and you're kriffing gorgeous.”

“I've gone soft in the time I've been taking care of the child—I don’t train as much.” Din said sheepishly, “I used to be leaner, more defined—I'm sorry you had to see my body when it’s like this.”

Migs recoiled, unsure how to even start telling him how wrong he was. How could Din think he was anything but perfect? What the hell did those Mandalorians teach him? Sure, warriors are supposed to be built, but really? How high were their standards?

“Din, if this is ‘out-of-shape’ for you, then I'm a little worried for your health before you met the child. Did you eat back then? Because the only way you could be more toned than this is if you were starving yourself. It’s healthy to have some bulk, you know? Especially with how hard you work your body.”

From the way that Din ducked his head, Migs could tell he was embarrassed from the praise. He was acting like he’d never been told he was beautiful before, and when Migs thought about it, he most likely hadn’t. The poor guy had no idea how sexy he really was, and Migs was determined to make sure he put an end to that.

“You’ve always been beautiful, Din. Even with your entire body covered, you're one of the most desirable people I've ever met.”

Din was silent for a moment, gaze raising to meet Migs’, “Thank you.” he said timidly, voice almost broken.

Damn that helmet—Migs would've died to see his expression. He wanted so badly to touch his cheeks and kiss his hurt away.

Migs cleared his throat, sending those thoughts away, “Ok, now that we have that covered,” he ran his hands gingerly up and down Din’s chest, his thumbs brushing his nipples as he did, “we can get onto the really fun stuff.”

Din gave a small nod, and Migs got to work. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to his chest, kissing and biting his skin while his hands roamed all over Din’s skin, fingers paying extra attention to the scars littering his smooth skin, which there were a lot of. Jeez, how many times can one man be injured? And specifically, from what it looked like, stabbed?

He paused his ministrations only long enough to reach for his discarded belt, rummaging around in the pocket until he found a small bottle of oil. He liked to use it for his blasters, but he’d used it to jerk off plenty of times, though he’d only used it as lube to stretch himself once. It felt great, though, so hopefully Din would feel the same.

He returned to Din and uncapped it, letting some of it drip onto his fingers before meeting the visor of Din’s helmet with his gaze, “Are you ready for this? Because if you aren’t, we can figure something else—”

“I'm ready.” Din said confidently, “I… I want this. Really.”

The words made Migs take pause, warmth blooming in his chest, even though he knew it was just the pollen talking. Still, he was only human, and the idea that Din could want to be with him like this was almost too much to bear.

With his stomach fluttering once again, Migs let his hand lower down until he found Din’s puckered entrance, lubed finger stroking the skin gently. Din tensed beneath him, and Migs cursed himself for jumping the gun so tactlessly once again.

He leaned in and began pressing kisses all over Din’s torso, his free hand stroking up and down his sides, stomach, and thighs in an effort to help him relax. When he finally felt Din’s muscles lose some of their tension, he proceeded to dip his finger into the Mandalorian’s tight hole, pausing and switching from pressing to caressing as soon as Din started to tense up again. The cycle continued until Din started to catch on, letting his muscles go lax to the point that Migs was finally able to slip his finger into him without too much tension.

“There you go, just relax.” Migs encouraged, tongue lapping at a nipple as he started to thrust his finger in and out. As soon as Din felt relaxed enough, he added some more oil before working a second finger into him, “I know it feels weird, but it will get better, I promise.”

Din threw his head back as Migs moved his fingers, muttering something incoherent as his hands clenched at the cape beneath him.

Migs leaned in a little, “What was that?” he asked, angling his ear toward Din.

“F-feels good…” Din muttered again, loud enough for Migs to actually hear him. “W-want more… please.” he moaned, and who was Migs to deny him what he wanted?

He added even more oil until Din was a dripping mess, knowing that it was better to be safe than sorry, before slipping his third finger into him. Din writhed beneath him as he stroked upwards, fingers curving to hit the spot that he knew would drive the man crazy. Just as he’d hoped, Din was beyond sensitive, reaffirming his assumption that this arrangement would be great for both of them.

“Migs, ah, I'm… I think I'm ready.” Din said, hips undulating so that Migs’ fingers kept hitting that sweet spot.

The sharpshooter smiled, “Yea? You sure?”

Din nodded, “Yes.”

For a moment, Migs debated being a brat and wringing another orgasm out of Din before doing anything else, but he knew he couldn’t be selfish. This wasn’t about him and Din having a good time together, this was about doing what was best for Din, which happened to be getting the pollen out of his system so they could go back to the way things were. If a solo orgasm hadn't worked the first time, then it would do no good to force another one out of him. It wasn’t Migs’ right to try and turn this into something it wasn’t—to try and make all of this mean something to Din, even when it didn’t.

So, with new resolve, Migs set to work making sure Din was ready, still wanting to make sure that this was the best it could possibly be for Din. If the poor guy was being forced to spend his first time with Migs, then he’d be damn sure to make it memorable. Din deserved that much.

And hell, if this was going to be Migs’ one chance to be with him, then he was definitely going to make the most of it.

“Ok, I'm sorry I don’t have any condoms, but I promise I'm clean.”

Din quirked his head, “Clean?”

Migs couldn’t help but smile at the man’s innocence, “Yea, ‘clean’, as in ‘I don’t have any diseases that I can pass onto you if I fuck you’.”

Din stared at him for a moment, “How do you know?”

Migs chuckled, “Trust me, buddy, you’d know. And I'm sure you're clean, considering you said you’ve never fucked anyone.”

Din nodded, “Yea, I guess that makes sense.”

Migs shook his head, “You're too adorable, you know that?”

Damn it, why did he say that? It was like he wasn't even in control of his own brain anymore!

Din quirked his head again, only further proving Migs’ point. Wanting to immediately divert away from that route of conversation, in order to spare himself from further humiliation, Migs decided that it was time to move on. The intense feelings for Din were only getting stronger the longer this dragged out, so it would probably be better if he just got on with it.

“Uh, anyways, now that we’ve established that, how about I stick my dick in you now?”

Din’s whole body flushed with the words, “U-uh, right.”

Clenching his eyes closed and shaking his head, Migs apologized, “Sorry, I really don’t mean to be so tactless, but it’s a little hard to focus with you looking like that.”

Din let out a small chuckle, “I've gotten used to your tactlessness. It’s… endearing.”

The sharpshooter paused, taking the information in, “Huh.” He honestly had no idea that Din liked his annoyingness. He always thought he drove the poor man crazy with the way he failed to treat any situation seriously.

This time, Din must've decided to end his own embarrassment, and let his head fall backward, “Would you please just do it? I'm dying here.”

Migs smiled, “Anything you want, brown eyes.”

He pressed his fingers back into Din’s hole for a little longer while he lubed up his cock, double-checking that the man was thoroughly prepared. And, possibly, he might’ve also done it just to hear his whines when he stroked his prostate a few more times as well. It wasn’t his fault Din made such adorable noises.

Once he was satisfied that Din was ready enough, he lifted Din’s legs and hoisted them over the crooks of his arms, lining himself up with his slick-shined hole. He slowly pressed himself into the younger man, listening for any sounds of distress or discomfort. Thankfully, all he could hear was the slick slide of his cock and the pleased whines of the horny man beneath him.

He finally bottomed out and pressed his forehead to Din’s helmet, the cool beskar a nice break from the roaring inferno that had taken over his body.

“Damn… I wish I could kiss you right now.” He muttered, not really thinking before speaking. A tendency that he’d fallen into many times since being sprayed with the pollen.

Din paused for a moment, hands reaching up to cup Migs’ cheeks as they laid still, connected most intimately as Migs gave him time to adjust. Then, ever the one to do the unexpected, Din’s hands moved to the sides of his own helmet, lifting it off and exposing the beautiful face underneath that Migs had come to adore.

“There you are, brown eyes.” Migs said, brushing some hair from Din’s face. “I always love seeing your face.”

He gave Migs a timid smile, “Please… I want you to kiss me, Migs.”

There weren’t many times that Migs had experienced butterflies in his stomach before, being the hardened, unfeeling bastard that he was, but out of those few experiences, none compared to how he felt from hearing Din’s words. Rather than simply fluttering, it felt as though the butterflies were aggressively battering his insides, the intensity of his emotions almost causing him to tear up.

Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed Din deeply, the moment their lips touched feeling like a zap of lightning through his entire body, his heart soaring in his chest. It was too much and not enough, the way that Din’s soft lips molded so perfectly to his own. Din’s little gasps and sounds of content only served to fuel him further, slowly starting to rock his hips in and out minutely as his mouth wandered from Din’s lips to his cheeks, jaw, neck, and chest, then right back up to his lips. It was just too damn addictive.

Once he finally felt Din relaxing around his cock as he moved inside of him, Migs started to deepen his thrusts and speed up a little, actively in tune with Din’s body language to gauge his comfort. After a short while, Din started to roll his hips up to meet Migs’, letting out little whines with each progressively-faster and deeper movement.

Migs knew the exact moment that he started to hit Din’s prostate dead-on, the man beneath him jumping and gasping, body twitching with each thrust. Migs angled his hips perfectly to hit that spot over and over, all in an attempt to wring the absolute maximum pleasure he could from the Mandalorian.

“Oh, Migs.” Din whined, somehow making the ex-imperial feel even warmer than before, “Please…”

“Anything, Din. Anything in the galaxy; it’s yours.” Migs said, leaning down and kissing Din once again, the feeling of their lips pressed together more than the sharpshooter could’ve ever asked for. He renewed his efforts, hips smoothly thrusting into Din’s with precision as his thumb found its way to Din’s nipple, caressing and pinching his skin until it pebbled and peaked.

“You're so beautiful, Din—inside and out, you're absolutely perfect.” Migs gasped, his own climax nearing, “You're everything I could ever want.”

“Want you… too.” Din whined, his hooded brown eyes staring up at Migs intensely, seeming to stare right through him and into his soul. “Migs…”

It was clear just how close the Mandalorian was, seeing the way he was writhing and moaning, breath quickened and chest heaving. His cock was straining against his stomach, and Migs couldn’t resist grasping it gently, fingers gliding along the smooth skin, slicked by the precum oozing from the slit.

“Are you going to cum for me again, Din? I want to see it—I want to make you feel so good that you never forget it.” Migs leaned down, kissing Din once again, “I just want you to be happy—I want to see you smile all the time. You deserve that, Din. I wish I could make you happy.”

Din reached up and cupped Migs’ cheek, “You do make me happy. Nobody can make me laugh or smile as much as you can. Migs… you… you make me so happy.” He leaned up and kissed Migs gently, “I…I love you.”

The words made Migs’ heart soar for a moment, only for all of it to come crashing down on his head. None of this was real—the pollen was making Din say these things. He didn’t really mean it.

But Migs would be damned if the words didn’t sound like the sweetest melody his ears had ever heard.

The urge to respond felt like it came from deep within himself, outside of his control entirely. He cupped Din’s cheek back, eyes pricking with moisture as they met with Din’s.

“I love you too, Din.”

The pollen had made him say it. The pollen was to blame for uttering those forbidden words. He never would've said them of his own volition, even if they were true. Din didn’t need to know—it would only complicate things between them, and they made too good of a team to split up.

The Mandalorian didn’t want anything romantic in his life. If he did, he would've jumped at the chance to be with that woman he had introduced him to during their detour to Sorgan. Apparently, the two of them had gotten to know each other back when Din was still drifting around with the kid, and according to what the rebel dropper had told him, she had even asked him to stay on and raise his kid with her.

That alone was evidence enough to Migs that Din didn’t want or need something romantic with anyone, especially not him. So, there really wasn’t a point in sharing how he felt. Surely, this time under the pollen’s influence would be the only time anything happened between them, and that was ok with Migs. Really, this was more than enough; more than he thought he’d ever get.

It was time to finish this, as much as he would've liked for it to drag on forever.

“Cum for me, Din.” he kissed Din, the Mandalorian chasing his lips as he pulled away briefly, “I want to see you lose control.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he pulled Migs back down for a kiss, his whines getting more and more frequent with each thrust. Only a handful of seconds later, and he broke the kiss, throwing his head back with a scream of Migs’ name as his cock spurted all over the sharpshooter’s hand. His thighs quivered and muscles flexed as Migs stroked him through it, milking his pleasure for as long as possible.

Soon enough, Din was collapsed beneath him, utterly boneless, eyes closed as he panted heavily, all the normal tension that Migs had gotten used to gone from his form entirely. He’d never seen Din so relaxed before, always concerned about one thing or another, even when there was no discernable danger around.

“There you go.” Migs whispered against Din’s lips, “So good, Din… so good.”

Din let out a satisfied sigh beneath him, eyes still closed, letting Migs look his fill without worry of being judged. At least, that was his excuse, though he was pretty positive he would've been looking whether Din’s eyes were opened or closed, unable to stop himself either way.

Eventually, Din’s eyes opened and he looked at Migs wistfully, nothing but fondness and admiration on his face. The flower’s influence must not be gone, then, Migs surmised.

He started to slowly pull out of Din, his cock still hard since he hadn’t cum yet. Din stopped him by putting his hands around Migs’ waist, holding him in place.

“You… you didn’t…”

Migs smiled down at him, “It’s ok, I can just—”

“No, I want you to, Migs.” Din interrupted, his hold growing tighter, “I want you to feel good, too.”

Migs’ stomach fluttered once again, and damn it, wasn’t that the most annoying feeling ever, as he heard Din’s words. He tried to shake the urge to say something back, finding it easier now to do so than he had before. Still, the desire to be with Din was too strong, and he allowed himself to give in, if only to finish this before the desperation from the pollen became his own. He couldn’t allow the line between his hidden desire and his outward actions to blur any more than it already had.

Din continued, "And besides, you're the one who said that we have to fuck it out of our systems, right? So you can't get rid of it any other way."

Right. That's why Din was ok with this. Why he was acting so understanding toward him. 

“Ok.” he said, kissing Din softly, “Alright. But if it’s too much, I want you to tell me, ok?”

Din nodded, smiling gently at him, “Ok.”

Migs started to slowly move his hips once again, gauging Din’s reactions for signs of overstimulation. Luckily, Din appeared to be the type with quick recovery time, and judging by the rapidly-stiffening length resting against Migs’ stomach after a few minutes of well-placed thrusts, he apparently had a high enough libido for the both of them.

With renewed confidence that Din wasn’t oversensitive to the point of pain, merely pleasure, Migs picked up the pace, quickly building up to that familiar breaking point that he’d nearly reached before. His heart was beating in his chest, knowing that it was about to come to an end, his thighs quivering with anticipation of pleasure.

“Do you think you can cum for me one more time?” Migs asked, voice urgent. Din’s expression was one of desperation and near-incoherence, lost in the pleasure even more so than Migs was. At the question, his brow furrowed, his face reading to Migs that he really wasn’t sure if he could do it or not. Migs smiled at him, “I know you can. Just let yourself have it, Din.”

He reached between them once again, taking hold of Din’s cock and stroking it gently, slowly working up his speed as Din got further away from oversensitivity and closer to yet another orgasm. He could see it in Din’s movements, his voice, his face—he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither was Migs, for that matter.

“C’mon, Din.” Migs said through gritted teeth, his own pleasure nearly overwhelming, “Cum for me.”

Din’s mouth opened into an ‘O’ as he moaned, his eyes lidding as his cock spasmed in Migs’ hand. "Migs!" he shouted as his orgasm reached its peak, just like Migs promised he'd make him do when this all started. Only a small bead of cum dribbled from the tip, still exhausted from his two former orgasms, but it was still far more than the dry orgasm Migs had expected from him. His face combined with his obscene noises and the way he clenched around Migs’ cock was enough to send the sharpshooter over the edge as well, spurting deep within the Mandalorian beneath him.

He collapsed down onto Din as he shuddered, pressing his face into Din’s neck as the man wrapped his arms around Migs’ shoulders, holding him tightly against himself as they both rode out their pleasure. Migs sloppily kissed along Din’s neck as the waves of his orgasm crashed through him, aftershocks coursing through both his and Din’s bodies as they twitched and writhed together. Din tilted his head invitingly to give Migs’ mouth more room to work with, which Migs did so happily, sucking deep marks into as much skin on Din’s neck as he could get to.

“Migs…” Din said, barely a whisper, his voice sounding so exhausted that Migs almost felt pity for giving him three consecutive orgasms, “I can barely keep my eyes open. I want this to last, but…”

Migs sighed, breath tickling Din’s neck, “I know. Maybe we should take a couple hypos before heading out. Might do us some good to recover at least a little bit of strength back after all of that.”

Din gave a huff of laughter, “You did all the work.”

Migs smiled, “It wasn’t work.” He cleared his throat, “So long as the pollen’s effect is gone, it was worth it.”

Din seemed to sag beneath him, “Yea…”

His voice sounded almost upset as Migs mentioned the pollen. Had he forgotten why they were here? Doing this? Maybe his mind was finally unclouding, and he was realizing exactly what he’d allowed Migs to do to him. Would he be mad at Migs forever? Surely, he’d be mad for a little while, but he couldn’t stay mad for too long, right? It was their only option, after all…

“So, um, we should probably get cleaned up, yea?” Migs said, starting to lift his weight off of Din, only hesitating when the Mandalorian’s arms remained wrapped around him, “Kinda hard to move when you’ve got me in a chokehold, Din.” he said sarcastically, his wit starting to come back now that the pollen’s effect was wearing off.

Din immediately released him, arms flying off of Migs’ neck as if he’d been burned, “Oh, right.” he lowered them down by his sides, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. My mind’s still pretty cloudy too, so I get it.” Migs said as he sat up, slowly pulling out of Din, taking a mental snapshot of the view Din’s dripping hole made, leaking his cum so perfectly. Damn, he was going to miss this when it was gone. “You ok, by the way? How are you feeling?”

Din gave a small shrug where he laid, “I feel fine. My head isn't fuzzy anymore. Looks like your crazy solution actually worked to solve our little problem.”

Problem? Was being attracted to and aroused by each other really a problem? And was having sex with each other really that crazy?

Yes, it kind of was.

“Yea, thank the force for that, right?” Migs said with a forced laugh as he grabbed his shirt and started to wipe Din up, “Who knows how long that could’ve lasted otherwise.”

As he dragged the shirt along Din’s toned stomach, clearing away the spatters of white streaking his darker skin, he couldn’t help but feel wistful. At least he had evidence that Din was well-pleasured, now staining the inside of his shirt… his only shirt. Which, he now realized wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. He probably should’ve thought of the fact that he’d have to wear his and Din’s combined, dried cum against his skin for the rest of their trip much sooner.

When he finished cleaning both of them up, he pulled his pants on, hesitating with his shirt for a moment before sighing and putting it on as well. It was so disgusting, feeling the wet patches against him, but he just tried his best not to think about it. Din must've noticed his squirming, a small smile sneaking onto the corner of his lips as he watched Migs while dressing himself as well.

Migs huffed, “What? Somethin’ funny over here?”

Din let out a small chuckle, “Nothing at all.”

“Yea, that’s what I thought.” he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small vial of mednog, “You’re gonna need this for the pain and the exhaustion, after all of that.” he tossed it to Din, “It’ll help keep you on your feet until we rest again.”

Din caught the vial and drank it down, cringing at the taste for a moment, “Thanks.” He tucked the vial into his own belt and continued setting everything back in place, fixing his flight suit before attaching the rest of his outfit. Migs also handed Din a hypo after rummaging around in his pouch a little more, taking one for himself and stabbing it into his neck at the same time as Din did. It wasn't the perfect solution, but it had enough adrenaline and pain relief in it to help them get to the town, at least. 

As soon as both of them were geared back up, Din’s full armor covering his body once again, his helmet situated over his face and cape over his back, they started back on their path toward the town, neither of them speaking a word as they walked.

Normally, Migs liked to clear the awkward air with a joke or sarcastic remark, but he honestly had nothing to say at the moment. So, for once, he gave Din the silence that he constantly asked him for, walking behind Din without a single complaint or comment.

=-=-=-=-=-=

The town wasn’t much to see, consisting of a few rows of houses surrounding a few central buildings, a bell tower included. Judging by the lack of advancement and use of only relatively basic technology, Migs was quite positive that they wouldn’t have any military or travel rations, and they most likely wouldn’t have any of their kind of work available.

Miracles happened, though. Not in Migs’ life, but still. Plus, they already made the long trek over, so they might as well check while they were here. 

Din marched them right into the center of town, all people staring or whispering as they walked by, surely drawn in by Din’s overly-shiny armor. They probably hadn’t seen anything like him before, and they likely wouldn’t ever again. A small grin tugged at Migs’ lips, almost proud of the way Din carried himself so confidently, uncaring of the eyes on him.

When they got inside what Migs’ assumed was the town hall, Din slapped some credits down onto the receptionist’s counter, startling everyone in the room with the loud ‘clank’.

“We need supplies, and any bounty work your town has.” Din’s voice rang out, completely unwavering.

The receptionist blinked a few times, “Um, how about I direct you to my superior?”

“What is their station?”

She gulped, “The mayor?”

Din nodded, “Then, yes. That would be appreciated.”

The girl got up and scurried down the narrow hallway, out of sight from the two foreigners. Migs looked to Din with a raised eyebrow, hands folded behind his back.

“You know, you're gonna give these small townsfolk a heart attack, acting like that all the time.”

Din sighed, “People are more inclined to work with me when I am direct in my needs.”

Migs chuckled, “Yea, because they're scared shitless.”

Din’s head slowly turned to look at Migs, who simply shrugged in response. After staring at him for a short while, Din’s visor turned back to looking forward, and Migs smiled to himself. This guy…

After a minute or so, the girl returned, gesturing for them to follow her, “She will see you, now.”

Din and Migs nodded to each other and followed her to the mayor, who was behind the door at the end of the hallway. As they walked, Migs continued to feel the rough patches of now-dried cum chafing against his skin, a constant reminder of what had happened a mere hour ago. They knocked and entered when the door slid open, coming to a stop when they found themselves across from a desk with scattered flimsi strewn across it.

“Yes, hello gentlemen.” the woman sitting at the desk said, tapping a stack of flimsi on the table to straighten it out. She sat down at her desk and folded her hands in front of her, looking between the two of them, “How can I help you?”

Din started to speak, but Migs held his hand out, stopping him before he could say anything, “Actually, we just landed a ways out and found our way here to look for food and water for our return trip home.” He gestured between him and Din, “That, and if you have any bounty-hunting work available, we’d be happy to do it as payment for some supplies.”

She hummed, “Well, unfortunately for you, this is a small town, and we all get along quite nicely. You won't find any bounty work here, my friends.” She tilted her head, “However, if you would be willing to do some other odd jobs, I'm sure we could square you away with a nice load of our finest fruits, vegetables, and beverages.”

Migs nodded, “That would be wonderful. Thank you so much, ma'am.” He started to turn away, hand on Din’s shoulder, but was stopped by the woman’s voice.

“My boy, you have a little something on your face.”

Migs froze. Did some of Din’s cum get on his face? Had he just paraded himself through a town with white smeared all over him?

The woman stood from her seat and stepped forward, hand brushing across Migs’ cheek. She looked down at her thumb and chuckled, “Well, it looks as though you fellas had an encounter with the local flora, eh?”

Migs blushed, “I-I'm sorry, I thought I cleaned up properly, after that whole ordeal… it was my fault, really.”

Din’s head whipped in his direction, “Don’t… we did what we had to.”

Migs shrugged at him, “Well, maybe there should be warning signs up in the forest or something, letting people know that there are wild sex-pollen flowers all over the place. Or, at least, there should be little huts with actual beds so people wouldn’t have to fuck on the forest floor—”

He cut himself off when he realized what he’d said, and Din put his hand to his visor, head tilted in shame. The look on the mayor’s face was just as surprised as his own, her eyebrows raised as high as they’d go.

Finally, she cleared her throat, “My boy… we don’t have sex pollen plants in our forests.”

Migs furrowed his brow, “Yes, you do! The little purple ones with red on the undersides of the petals.”

At this, the woman let out a loud guffaw, “Those don’t induce anything sexual, my friend! Those are flos sinceritatis pollinis. The pollen acts as a magnifier of the thoughts, emotions, or feelings belonging to those that come into contact with it; a bit of a ‘truth pollen’, if you will.” She shrugged, “The pollen contains small doses of chemicals that act as mild inhibitors in the frontal cortex of the brain, where higher thought and the construction of lies take place. This inhibition allows thoughts to flow freely without restraint for as long as the chemicals remain in the brain, which is usually less than an hour. We use small doses of them in many of our therapeutic practices, where people have trouble processing complex emotions, or making sense of complicated situations, sometimes even unearthing hidden feelings—”

“I think we get it.” Migs interrupted,  “Can I, um… can I talk to my associate, for a minute?”

She smiled, “Of course. You can take the room next door.” She started to go back to her desk, but paused, looking at them sternly, “But, I would prefer you didn’t make any messes.”

The message was clear—no fucking in town hall.

Migs nodded and pulled Din along by his elbow, directing him into the office she’d mentioned, then closing the door behind them. He turned to look at Din, who was already watching him, standing stock still in the middle of the room.

Migs cleared his throat, “So… I guess I was wrong, about the sex pollen thing. And we didn't have to fuck it out of our systems like I said. If we would've just let it run its course, we would've been fine in less than an hour.”

Din remained silent.

Migs carried on.

“I… I owe you an apology, Din. I took advantage of you, in a way, and I promise, it won't happen again.”

Din still didn’t say anything.

Migs sighed, “Go ahead, beat me to a pulp, curse me, slit my throat—do what you gotta do, Mando.”

Din took a few steps forward, until he was nearly toe-to-toe with Migs. They stood there for a few moments, Migs staring at his own worried face in the reflection of Din’s visor, wondering if this was how it was all going to end.

Just when he was sure it was all over, Din pulled his helmet off, throwing it to the ground before grabbing Migs’ face and smashing their lips together.

Migs was at a total loss, eyes wide open as he was kissed senseless by the man he thought was going to end him only seconds ago. Eventually, he melted into it, kissing Din back and letting his eyes drift closed, wrapping his arms around Din tightly as his body sagged with relief.

Eventually, they pulled apart, Migs looking at Din with concern, “So, the pollen’s still in your system or something?”

Din rolled his eyes fondly, “We already established that the pollen wasn’t what we thought it was. And, because of what the mayor said about the pollen's effects, it means that we weren’t compelled to each other by animalistic need; we were driven together because the pollen forced us to face the truth about our feelings toward each other.”

Migs’ eyes widened in understanding, “You mean… you actually like me?”

Din smiled, “Of course I do—I’m pretty sure the stuff was already mostly worn off by the second orgasm. You were the one that took the brunt of the pollen explosion.” He said as he chuckled, Migs chuckling back. He tilted his head, “I should be asking you that question, considering everything that led up to today.”

Migs rolled his eyes, “Don’t even start with that! I was so obvious with my staring and flirting. I thought you just weren’t interested all this time!”

“Well, I tried courting you, a couple of times.” Din said sheepishly, “You were never receptive to my attempts, though.”

“Ok, so that’s a lie.” Migs scoffed, “I think I would've picked up on you flirting with me.”

“Not flirting, courting. Mandalorian style.”

Migs cocked his head, “And how did you try to court me, Mandalorian-style, exactly?”

“Well, I gifted you many things, including armor, which is a great honor among my people. Then, about a month ago, I brought you the heads of your former imperial employers, after you told me how much you wished they were dead. I was pretty subtle with my previous gifts, but I thought my intentions were quite obvious, after that.”

Migs stared at him for a while, then let out a loud laugh, having to use Din as support to hold himself up when he started to run out of air. Finally, once he got control over himself, he smiled at Din, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Ok, I can see how that would be the Mandalorian tradition of courting, but where I'm from? That just looked like you hated the imps as much as me, and wanted to chop their heads off. Hell, I thought you were just trying to mess with me, leaving a sack of frozen heads on my bunk!”

Din slumped a little, “So, you didn’t like it?”

Migs cupped Din’s cheeks, “Honestly? Now that I know it was intended as a gift for me, and not some bounty or something, I have to admit that it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” he pecked Din’s lips, “So, if that’s a Mandalorian courting gift, then you can go ahead and consider me ‘courted’, my dear Mandalorian friend.”

Din’s face lit up, “You accept?”

Migs nodded, “Damn straight. What’s next in your 'Mandalorian courting ritual', stealing an imperial cruiser for me?”

Din tilted his head, “I might be able to—”

“No, I'm kidding!” Migs said, laughing again, “That’s sweet, but what the hell would I do with a cruiser? No, I’d rather have a freighter, or something. Maybe some more armor to match the pieces you gave me.”

Din smiled at him, “Anything you want—I just want you to be happy.”

Hearing his own words thrown back at him was the final push that Migs needed to believe that this was all real, and that their minds hadn't been scrambled, knowing that Din was coherent enough during their encounter to remember something like that. So, it really wasn’t just the pollen talking, when Din told him that he loved him, and it wasn’t the pollen talking when he’d said it right back to him without a moment’s hesitation. Those words were their own—hidden deep down until the truth was literally forced out of them by a little flower.

“Damn, I wish that mayor wasn’t here—I’d take you on this duracrete floor right now, if she hadn’t already warned us against making any messes.” Migs said with a cocked brow.

"Well, you could just wipe any evidence up with your shirt again, if we did make a mess." Din teased, a wide grin splitting his face. 

Migs laughed heartily, "I knew you were laughing at me back in the jungle because of my shirt! You asshole!" he shoved Din lightly, causing both of them to chuckle again. He shrugged once the laughter died down, "Though, I'd do it again, if it meant you didn't have to be uncomfortable, wearing a cum-covered shirt. I meant it when I said I'd do anything for you, brown eyes."

Din smiled at him, “Careful, you're being so honest right now, I’d swear you were blasted by truth pollen.” He pulled Migs in for a brief kiss, “Don’t worry, we just have to do a few jobs, then we’ll be back to the ship with some supplies.”

Migs chuckled, “Then let’s get this work over with; I've got a few things I want to try, once we’re back on board.”

Din tilted his head, “No stops along the way? I hear there are some local flowers that act like aphrodisiacs to repressed idiots in denial and in love.”

Migs gave another laugh, “Who’s in denial?” he pulled Din in for one final kiss before the two of them left the room, "I will admit to the 'being in love' part, though." he said with a wink. He picked up Din's helmet and handed it to him, allowing the Mandalorian to cover his face once again, his wide grin hidden as the beskar slid back into place.

Their pace was quick when they left the town hall, a list of jobs provided to them by the receptionist on the way out. Migs worked with military precision as they chopped wood, fixed roofs, and hauled heavy equipment for the townsfolk.

Knowing what would come as soon as they were done, Migs had never been so dedicated to mundane work in his life. As soon as they finished crossing off each job on their list and made it back to the ship, he was going to absolutely ravish Din.

Looking over at his armored companion, Migs wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky. He’d be sure to thank Din for the detour through the jungle; maybe pick him a bouquet of real flowers—ones that wouldn’t spray truth pollen into his face when he sniffed them. Hell, maybe he’d start officially ‘courting’ Din too, just for the hell of it. After all, he didn’t have to resist his urges to spoil the Mandalorian any longer, a fact that brought a giddy smile to Migs’ face every time he remembered it.