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Din flinched awake, ears perking at the sound of a soft moan. For a moment, he lay confused and half asleep before a powerful wave of heat crashed into him. Din realized belatedly the wanton sound fell from his own lips as he was chased out of a savage dream. And with growing awareness came a sense of humiliation; he was far too old for this.
Sleep was supposed to be shallow. It was like blinking the time away. Five hours at most, of total nothingness. It was not for wet dreams. Of course, after a month of ignoring his needs, Din had nothing to blame but himself for this circumstance, but that didn't stop him from continuing to ignore it in the darkness of his sleep pod. He had time to deny it. He could do it. Only, as the time stretched on and the feelings failed to dissolve, his resolve weakened.
Would it be so bad to indulge?
Din sighed internally at having wondered the same thing just a month ago. It was a vicious cycle that he was already starting anew the moment he unzipped his flight suit and took his aching cock in hand. Just this once, he told himself. Again.
At first, his own touch was almost too much but Din focused on the heavy weight between his legs; the heat of delicate skin and the wet of pre-come. He tried not to make a sound, flushing red at the stuttering gasps that seemed to escape against his will. His hips rolled in a simultaneous recoil and chase for pleasure, the mixed signals of his own body adding flames to a fire in his gut.
He wanted so much more.
Frustrated, he let go. With no short amount of shame, he reached two fingers into the wet cavern of his mouth. The salt of his skin made him salivate. Withdrawing soaking fingers, his hand traveled down. Down his shaft, his balls, his taint, and further still until he reached his clenching hole. With a sharp intake of breath, Din pressed a digit inside, arching off of the cot. It was embarrassing how desperately he wished to be filled by something else. Someone else.
Tentatively, Din allowed himself to fantasize.
He thought of someone who was rough and unforgiving. He thought of them ignoring his reluctance and his over-sensitivities. From Din, they would take what they wanted and use him. If he whimpered, they would cover his mouth with the palm of their hand and pound into him.
"Big strong Mandalorian whining like a whore," they would say.
The very idea inspired a second finger as he spread and lifted his legs, folding himself as he panted rather pathetically. He had half a mind to be completely humiliated but was not sane enough for it to deter his erection. Not when the need was too carnal to stop. His fingers thrust harder and deeper, crooking and searching for that special spot. Relentlessly, he sought his prostate as the other hand stroked his cock with a loose fist. The moment it was found, his eyes nearly crossed. Too lost in a different world, he couldn't help the small "yes" that tumbled out breathlessly. He clamped his mouth shut then. It still pained him to be so out of control.
"I know you like it. You're not fooling anyone."
It wasn't true. Din thrashed his head to the side, burying himself into the stiff cushion of his cot. He tried to suppress the next whimper.
"I'm only going to be rougher if you're shy like that."
Cruel, Din thought as his arousal spiked. But to be wanted in this way, when he was most pitiful and weak, only made his hands move faster. Every twitch and every moan that he couldn't help, his fantasy drank. They drank and savored his powerlessness as if it were some sacred blood of lamb and Din let himself be sucked dry.
"That's it. What a good boy."
The condescension in this disembodied voice was bewitching. Din withdrew his fingers from his hole to spit into his hand, relishing in the way a third finger could now fit inside. He wondered somewhat drunkenly how he could ever have deprived himself of such a sensation. At that moment, he needed to be filled as much as he needed air. He approached the edge, letting go of whatever reluctance remained. The pleasure was already so great, but it grew evermore when he finally came. Its strength brought tears to his eyes and ripped a sob out of his throat while he spilled over his own hand. Din's body was drawn taut, twitching through an orgasm that was long overdue.
When the shock of it began to subside and the pain of overstimulation set in, Din stilled. A moment later, he went limp altogether. He was trapped in a haze for the time that it took for him to catch his breath and for his sweat-damp skin to cool.
Soon, he came back to reality - feeling dreadfully embarrassed.
Face hot and prickly, he left the pod to wipe himself clean and made quick work of it. Not a moment longer would he allow himself to exist in the mess he'd just made, the mess he'd been trying to avoid for a month. Washed thoroughly enough, he zipped his flight suit up and crawled back into the pod, defeated.
Din curled up onto his side, resolving to shove his desires down, lock them away in the deepest pit of his mind where no light could touch.
Without much confidence, he swore to himself that next time, he wouldn't give in.