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Newness was nothing but a boundary to be broken.
You hated the drudgery, the taboo, the awkward, surrounding newness. In your life, you tried to never let it exist. Whatever the situation, whatever turn of events held the distasteful tint of “new”, you pushed right through it. Wrestled a hasty adaptation from the confines of your heart and mind, never letting yourself dwell on what should have been a difficulty.
You fully intended on doing so now. There was no way you were going to let a cloud of new disrupt the joy you should have been feeling. Especially not in this particular plot twist.
But damn if Mr. Din Djarin wasn’t bent on dragging you into awkward hell with him.
It had been a handful of weeks since your hushed, mutual confessions. Since hesitant touches in the cover of blackness, screwed shut eyes and lips you could feel but not see. A handful of weeks in which he’d carefully toed the waters you were ready to dive right into.
The man with dozens of kills under his belt was as shy as a schoolboy when it came to affection. His hesitantly wandering hands and prolonged stares - and treacherous body declaring what his mouth could not in moments he held you especially close - told you he wanted to. He wanted it likely as much as you did. But where you could put inhibition aside, explore this new relationship and all the joys it had to offer, Din could not. You weren’t sure if it was doubt, fear of your reaction, or plain old self consciousness, something was holding him back from letting touch and talk flow as freely as you each wanted.
You hated it most in times such as now, when he had the audacity to look so tempting while doing something as simple as putting his weapons away. Broad and strong, thick arms moving with practiced ease, legs standing just wide enough you could picture them boxing you in as he pushed you against the wall. Something he would never, ever do.
“How are you mesh’la?” He greeted as he popped open the weapon panel. You intended to ask the meaning of his new name for you, but were always distracted by its speaker. Now was no exception.
“Good,” you answered, approaching him slowly. He unclipped his rifle and hung it up, doing the same with the artillery at his belt. “How was your hunt?”
He gestured to the frozen body hanging from its chamber. “Uneventful.”
“Hm.” You watched him openly as he disassembled, putting away his final bit of weaponry and closing the panel. When he turned, you remained unmoving, eyes glued to him. He stopped short, head tilting in question while you stared.
It was silent for a beat. “...what?” He asked through a breath of laughter.
What. What- you wanted him to flip the lights off or cover your eyes so he could kiss you. Wanted him to forget the imaginary eggshells on the floor and stomp right over and put his strong hands on your body. Wanted him to surrender to the thinly veiled desire you felt steeping his body every time he touched you. What was a lot of things. You could find the words to express none of them.
The actions, however, came readily.
It didn’t take courage to approach him. Courage would have implied you were afraid. You already knew you both wanted more, so fear had no hold. Rather, what drove you forward was a sense of...finality. And understanding. Knowing the lot fell to you, and accepting the responsibility readily.
Din stiffened when you closed in on him. You gave him a calming smile, and moved slow as you slipped your hands around his neck. His arms remained dead at his sides.
“Hi,” you cooed, looking up at him with big eyes.
“Hi?” His rich tone broke with the smallest crack.
Your smile remained as your fingertips edged his cape, watching yourself gently pull the thick fabric. “I missed you,” you admitted quietly.
He was staring down at you, entirely imobile. “Missed you...too…”
Your heart warmed at his unsurety, the hesitancy in his tone. You wanted him to kiss you, badly. But you clearly had him flustered, and there was no way he’d sacrifice his first defense in such a state. So instead, you pulled a little harder at his cowl, untucking it to reveal the beautiful golden skin of his neck. Skin he’d let you see before, and had reacted with enthusiasm at the touch of your fingers. This time though, you had something else in mind.
Watching his body for a sign of discomfort - anything beyond self doubt, a signal he wanted you to stop - you inched your mouth closer. Seeing no such signal, your lips curled back in a smile. Your mouth was a mere breath from his neck. If you just puckered them a bit, you’d make contact. Instead though, you breathed. Pushed a long, soft exhale slowly from between your lips and let it ghost over his skin.
You could feel the shiver that slipped down his spine, tiny vibrations under your fingers at the back of his neck. And again, you waited, your goal being to draw him into action.
The only one you received was involuntary. His body subtly twitched, wrung tight with anticipation and sudden, strong need. The movement pushed the waiting spanse of his neck that much closer to your mouth. The rest of him stayed frozen, but you could hear the shallow labor of his breaths.
With no further movement from him, you pushed on. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you placed them on his neck, slowly. A small breath was sucked through his modulator, cut off barely half way. Finally, finally, one of his hands found your hip. No pressure, just a simple placement, but enough encouragement for you to continue. You kissed him once, then pulled away with a soft pop.
“I really...really missed you,” you whispered, repeating the sentiment as though attaching some excuse to your actions. Din only managed a hum in response. You kissed him again, right on his throat, a little harder. A little longer. His hand squeezed your hip.
Still moving slow, you planted kiss after kiss across his gorgeous neck, admiring the firm muscle beneath your lips, loving the way he gradually relaxed. His head tilted back and to the side, giving you more room as a stunted moan escaped him. Emboldened, you tried a tiny lick at the dip of his throat, just where the curve of his jaw disappeared beneath beskar.
Both of his hands found purchase on your hips. “Cyare,” he breathed, voice brittle.
You weren’t sure what he meant or wanted, but his tone held inquiry. Your response was whispered against his skin, “Ssh,” you soothed. “Just stay still for me,” another lick, “Can you do that?”
He answered with another hum, but it was close enough to confirmation, his hands reaffirming their grip and drawing you closer. You licked a long, wet line from top to bottom, then blew softly from your mouth, letting cool air waft over the area and loving the way his skin twitched. His choked moan told you he was trying to hold back, not releasing nearly the amount of sounds his throat wanted to produce.
This encouraged you, and you latched onto a sensitive spot at the side of his neck, starting to suck gently. You desperately wanted him to take the helmet off so you could reach that lovely spot below his ear. Maybe suck his earlobe. But something told you you may be reaching that point tonight. You sucked on him harder, his breath hitching in ragged spurts, until you were confident he’d have a nice mark to look at later.
As your onslaught continued, and Din moaned and gripped your body, you realized just how sensitive he was here. Your tiny licks and kisses seemed to be driving him crazy. Which made sense. From what little he told you, it didn’t sound as though he let many - if anyone - do this sort of thing. You felt both special and responsible, wanting to make this new experience as good as possible for him.
He was pulling your hips right up to his now, while you sucked another mark on the other side of his throat. His breathing was reduced to slow, deep pants, each one rasping through the helmet, laced with yearning. You smiled against him and dusted another round of kisses down his salty skin. Before you could decide whether you wanted to gift him another mark, Din’s hips suddenly bucked, the movement stunted and soft but unmistakable, your bodies igniting with friction. With the way he grunted and withdrew, you knew the action hadn’t been intentional.
Your smile took on a new, wicked meaning. With a soft moan, you pressed your wet lips one last time beneath his jaw, a spot he was particularly responsive to.
Then, right as his hands circled tighter on your waist, you broke away from him. Stepping back, smirking softly, and patting his chest like a friendly comrade.
“Welcome back,” you said simply, all the innocence in the world.
You saw only his confused head tilt as you turned and made for the cockpit ladder. His voice followed you, oh so hesitant, making you grin. “C...cyare?”
You rounded on him lazily, one hand and foot already on the rungs. He stood there looking a mess, neck exposed and glistening, lungs still trying to catch up lost breaths. You batted your eyes and cocked your head. “Hm? Yes Din?”
There was a solid three seconds where you could feel him calculating. Felt that hunter mind analyzing your every move, and the exaggerated purity on your face and in your voice. Felt the white hot need you had stirred rolling off him, colliding with your own in the electrified space between you.
Din bolted.
And for someone covered in metal, he was kriffing fast. One moment you were watching him think, the next he was halfway across the hull, bearing down like a charging animal. You acted barely within the split second needed to escape his reach, letting out an embarrassing squeak and hurling up the ladder.
You were quick. But not nearly quick enough. No sooner had your feet reached the floor then an iron grip closed on your ankle, sending you plummeting. You caught yourself on your hands and rolled over, grinning as you made a half hearted attempt to scoot away from him. He crested the ladder and paused when he saw you, grip loosening.
“You ok?”
So sweet. So concerned. You wanted to pounce on him. “About to be better,” you taunted, ceasing your getaway attempts and tilting your chin up in a beckoning gesture.
A low, gravelly sound came from Din’s chest, almost like a growl, but softer. He crawled up slowly, joining you on the floor and settling his knees between your legs. You watched with big eyes and heavy breaths, aching for his touch. Slipping a glove off, he gave it to you; rough fingertips ghosting down your jaw.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed quietly.
You knew the answer, but you spoke the question anyway, wanting to hear his rich voice rumble with words that made your skin heat. “Why?”
The growl from his helmet didn’t disappoint, “So I can give you a taste of your own medicine.”