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This meeting is going on for far too long. When Bo-Katan had hailed him on his comlink for an emergency council meeting about a sudden change in the Republic’s trade policy to outer-rim territories, Din had been suitably worried. But as soon as he’d heard what the tiny change was and how little it actually affected them, he’d immediately wanted to end the holo meeting. He had a husband waiting in bed for him, a husband who he’d hardly seen all month due to his responsibilities as Mand’alor and Luke’s responsibilities to his foundlings and the Republic. Tonight was the first weekend that both their schedules lined up with a respite, and Din had been looking forward to it all week.
But, of course, as always, Bo-Katan has about a million other things to urgently talk to the council and Mand’alor about, even though they’d already had four straight hours of meetings this morning. So Din sits in his seat at his dining table and resigns himself to another hour of politics, thinking wistfully about his riduur’s warm, welcoming body under his, grateful that no-one can see the haziness of his gaze as he daydreams about Luke’s honey-sweet smile and the blue-bright of his eyes between responding to enquiries and comments.
“And this, Mand’alor,” Bo-Katan points out, bringing up a document on everyone’s datapads, “needs urgent attention. If the Republic thinks that they can hide something that stinks this strongly of bantha-shit, than they’re definitely the incompetant idiots we think they are—”
Din appreciates Bo-Katan’s dedication and enthusiasm and eye for detail. Without her his acceptance of the Darksaber and the subsequent position of King of Mandalore would have gone significantly less smoothly, and involved substantially more headaches and banging his head against multiple hard surfaces multiple times a day, but sometimes he just wishes she would take a holiday. Even though he thinks she’s never taken one in her life and probably never will.
Obediently Din scrolls through the document, eyes taking in the text, when there’s a light touch to his inner thigh. Freezing, Din looks down between his legs and finds a mischievous blue gaze looking up at him, his husband settling on his knees at Din’s feet and licking his pink lips suggestively. He’s dressed only in one of Din’s loose sleeping shirts, the hem pooling around his thighs and the neckline sagging down a slender shoulder, revealing a glimpse of the extensive network of delicate lightning scars branching across his skin.
Heat immediately pools in Din’s lower stomach and groin. He knows that look. Nothing ever good comes from that look. Or, well, rather, everything good comes from that look, and usually ends up with Luke bent over some sort of furniture and Din fucking him into a mindless mess, but Din is in the middle of an emergency council meeting, and Luke really shouldn’t be looking up at him from under his lashes like that.
Luke, no, Din tries to convey sternly by his gaze through his helmet’s visor, but just as always, Luke picks and chooses what looks he’s able to interpret from Din and ignores this one completely. He just smiles serenely and starts to work at the fastenings of Din’s flight suit with his clever fingers. When he pulls out Din’s half-hard cock Din twitches in his seat, his hands clenching into fists either side of his datapad at his husband’s familiar warm, sure touch.
“Mand’alor?”
Din clears his throat and looks up, consciously unclenching his fists. “Yes, sorry, what was that?”
He listens intently to his advisor’s comments, nodding and humming at all the right moments, while his mind is entirely on the warm body kneeling between his legs under the table, hidden from the holo-projector. Luke palms Din’s cock gently a few times, coaxing it into full hardness, before he nuzzles a smooth cheek across it. Din tenses, but his voice doesn’t falter as he responds to another advisor’s question.
A deliberately slow lick across the head of his cock has his breath hitching. He chances another look down and feels a hot spike of arousal hit him when he sees Luke smile innocently up at him, grip the base of Din’s cock firmly with his cybernetic hand, and open his mouth wide.
The warm, wet heat engulfing him has Din squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth in an effort not to moan out loud and thrust up into Luke’s mouth. Dank farrik, Din thinks fiercely to himself, you are going to be in so much trouble after this, cyar’ika.
The meeting continues, and Din’s glad that Luke’s learnt over the year they’ve been married to give a nearly silent blowjob. They’ve had too many incidents of Grogu getting curious about all the sounds Luke had been making during quick, stolen moments on his knees in the kitchen or ‘fresher that Luke can now seal his lips around Din’s cock and keep all messy, sloppy sounds to a minimum. Din would probably have to kill everyone in his council and then himself if they heard his husband giving him head.
What Luke has also perfected over the past year is how to drive Din crazy with his mouth and tongue within mere minutes. Din has to surreptitiously drop his hand down to his lap to grab a fistful of Luke’s hair to make him slow down, because as much as this is making his meeting a lot more enjoyable he does not want to have an orgasm in front of his entire council.
“Before we wrap up there’s just one more matter to discuss,” Bo-Katan says, and, yeah, okay, Din’s had enough of this. He’s the karking Mand’alor, he should be able to say that a meeting is over and have it be over.
He grips Luke’s hair a tad tighter and hopes that the holo-projector doesn’t pick up on the quiet little moan Luke makes around his cock.
“It’s getting late. I think we’ve done enough tonight,” Din says with finality in his tone. Bo-Katan opens her mouth to argue, but Din interrupts her by raising his hand. “Can it wait?”
She closes her mouth and unhappily nods, her mouth set in a thin line.
“Thank you, Bo-Katan,” Din says, “and thank you everyone else. Let’s resume this after the weekend, at a time slightly more appropriate?”
There’s a murmur of thanks and goodnights, before the holo-projector in front of him blinks off and Din and his husband are the only ones left in the quiet, dimly-lit kitchen.
Din takes a deep, steadying breath, before he uses his fistful of Luke’s hair to drag his husband off his cock. Luke lets out a surprised yelp as Din manhandles him up off the floor and around, pinning him face down over the table.
Din stands and bends down over Luke’s body, resting his helmet next to Luke’s blond head to speak into Luke’s ear. “You couldn’t wait, cyar’ika?” He asks, his voice low and dangerous through his modulator.
“You said you were going to be done an hour ago,” Luke whines, squirming in Din’s hold. Din knows intimately that if Luke really wanted him to let go Din would be halfway across the room right now, flying through the air from a force-push, but he also knows how much Luke likes to be pushed down and held there, vulnerable under Din’s firm grip.
Din hums and grinds his saliva slick cock over Luke’s bare ass. Luke gasps underneath him, trying to arch his back underneath Din to grind back. But Din doesn’t let him, pinning Luke down with the weight of his body and armour. “An hour is hardly anything, Skywalker. I thought Jedi were meant to be examples of patience.”
“Not when they’ve been waiting an entire month to spend more than a few minutes at a time with their husband,” Luke grumbles plaintively, and Din chuckles.
“I think you need a lesson in self-restraint,” Din tells his husband, and through his armour he can feel the tremble that makes its way through Luke’s body at the deep husk of his voice. He straightens up just enough to run a gloved hand up Luke’s slim back, rucking up Din’s own sleep shirt to reveal sun-kissed skin dotted with brown freckles and mapped with pale lightning scars. “After all, I was managing fine.” That was a blatant lie. He’d been having waking dreams about Luke all kriffing week. “What do you think, Jet’ika?”
Luke knows what Din calling him Jet’ika means. He shivers underneath Din’s touch, turning his head to press his cheek against the cool surface of the table to peak at Din through his dark blond hair, blue eyes bright and anticipatory.
“Yes, Mand’alor.” He whispers.
Din smiles slow and pleased in his helmet. “Good boy.”
Luke’s next breath is uneven, his mouth dropping open in shocked pleasure at the praise.
Din finishes pushing his sleep shirt up Luke’s body, tugging it up over Luke’s shoulders and head to leave him naked save for his beskar mudhorn signet necklace. When his shirt reaches Luke’s wrists he expertly tangles it around them, tying the material tight and binding Luke’s wrists together above his head. He tests the restraint quickly by working his fingers between it and Luke’s skin, finding the tightness at an acceptable level so Luke’s circulation won’t be hindered to his real hand.
Pulling back, he gives Luke’s tempting round ass a slap. Luke jerks from where he’s lying over the table, letting out a startled yelp.
Din admires the light pink mark that forms on Luke’s skin for a moment before giving it a fond pat. “Don’t move,” he commands, and steps away when Luke nods obediently.
He sweeps into their bedroom, heading right to their nightstand. He yanks the drawer open and searches around for their tube of lube, swearing when he finds one empty. He throws it onto the floor in disgust and opens the next drawer, triumphantly grabbing an unopened tube and striding back into the kitchen.
Luke is right where Din left him, bent over the table with his cheek pressed into the wood, one blue eye tracking Din from under his bangs as Din walks towards him. Din steps up behind him, places the lube to the side and tugs his gloves off with his teeth, dropping them one at a time onto the table next to Luke’s naked body.
Next, his helmet comes off with a small hiss of it disengaging. He places it carefully on the other side of Luke and drops a light kiss on one of Luke’s bare shoulder blades, nosing across Luke’s warm skin. Luke lets out a soft sigh, his body relaxing under Din’s hands. Din smiles against him, murmuring, “cyar’ika,” gently, his moustache brushing over skin as he speaks. Dank farrik, he’s missed his husband.
“Din,” Luke whispers back to him, tone thick with affection. Din peppers more kisses down Luke’s spine, finding all his favourite freckles and beauty spots as Luke shivers underneath his touch. Luke’s practically a purring, boneless heap by the time Din makes it to the dimples above his hips, and Din grins quietly against his skin as he uncaps the tube of lube.
“Eek!” Luke squeaks as Din squirts cold lube right onto his ass, jolting as the slick hits his skin.
Din chuckles, and then gives Luke’s ass another healthy slap, enjoying the sound of his palm snapping against Luke’s flesh. Luke gasps and Din does it again, harder this time, and Luke lets out a broken moan as the smack echoes through their kitchen. Din has never been more thankful that Grogu’s room is on the other side of their dwelling.
“What did I tell you? No movement, Jet’ika.”
“Yes, Manda’lor,” Luke gasps, forehead pressed into the table. “I’m sorry.”
Din hums thoughtfully, tracing the line where freshly pink flesh fades to pale gold and then trailing his finger between Luke’s asscheeks. He drags his fingertip up from Luke’s balls and over his puckered hole, smearing lube as he goes. Luke only shivers lightly, his breath picking up, and Din knows that Luke is fighting to keep himself from spreading his legs wider, from wanting to invite Din in.
For good measure Din squirts more lube between Luke’s legs and then abandons the tube to the side. He tests the tightness of Luke’s hole, temptingly pink and small as he rubs a finger over it, feeling the firmness of the ring of muscles guarding Luke’s body from him.
“You’re tighter than usual,” Din comments, voice a rough husk as he watches his own fingers tease at Luke’s clenching rim. “I haven’t fucked you like you’ve needed in a long while, have I?”
Luke lets out a strangled whine of agreement. “Please,” he whimpers, already on his way to sounding ruined. “I need it. I need you, Din. Please.”
Din shushes him but increases the pressure just slightly, enough for his finger to sink first knuckle deep inside of Luke. Luke lets out a fast breath but easily accepts the rest of Din’s finger as Din pushes deeper, biting his own lip at the wet, tight clench. It always amazes him how eager Luke’s body is for him, how gorgeous his husband is when he surrenders himself to Din’s touch.
“So pretty,” Din murmurs, and Luke whimpers as Din works another finger into him, watching Luke’s pink, wet rim spread around the breadth of his fingers. Between Luke’s thighs his cock is a deep cherry red, swollen and begging to be touched, but Din ignores it in favour of fingering Luke’s ass open instead. The sight of it engulfing his fingers greedily makes his mouth water, and his cock throb eagerly. Soon, he tells it.
“One more, cyar’ika,” Din encourages as he presses a third finger against Luke’s hole. He eases it in gently, listening to the sweet, breathless sounds falling from Luke’s lips as he opens Luke up. “You’re taking it so well,” he praises, pumping his fingers in and out, watching rapt as Luke’s wet hole clings to him, clutching tightly to his fingers like it doesn’t want them to leave.
“Din,” Luke moans, but he’s being such a good boy, staying still under Din’s broad palm placed against his lower back.
“Patience, riduur,” Din tells him firmly, lips quirking at Luke’s mournful whine. He takes his time, fingering Luke until he’s wet and loose and his hole is flushed a deep rose pink, and Luke’s quiet little whimpers are turning into desperate keens, his cock steadily drooling precum between his trembling thighs.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Din says quietly, pulling his fingers free of Luke’s body. He would finger Luke all night if he could, but he’s pretty sure at some point Luke would lose all semblance of patience, turn around, force-push him to the floor and ride him into oblivion. Din makes a mental note to one night push Luke to that limit, because that sounds grand, but tonight he wants to push Luke to a different kind of limit. One that he’s curious if Luke can even reach.
He slicks up his own cock quickly, giving himself one firm, teasing stroke before nudging the head against Luke’s hole, parting Luke’s ass with a thumb. Luke makes a pleading sound in the back of his throat that morphs into a drawn out moan as Din rolls his hips forward and sinks slowly into Luke’s body, his breath heavy as Luke clenches hot and tight around him, struggling to accommodate him even after all the prep. It has been a while since Din stretched his husband out on his cock, but Din is more than happy to take up the task again.
“Din,” Luke gasps, back heaving with his quickening breaths, his hands in fists where they’re bound above his head. Din brushes a soothing hand up Luke’s back to grip Luke tightly around his nape, fingers tangling in the beskar links of his necklace.
“You’re doing so well, love,” Din praises, “so well, so good for me. Just relax.”
Luke whimpers, but takes a deep breath and does what Din tells him to do, body relaxing underneath Din’s grip. Din’s own breath rushes out of him in relief as the dizzyingly tight heat around him gives a little and he slips just a little deeper. From there he begins to rock his hips, sinking in inch by inch into Luke’s trembling body, splitting Luke steadily open on his cock. When he bottoms out he rests there for a moment, dropping his forehead down to Luke’s back, listening to Luke’s tiny hitching breaths and feeling Luke’s body twitch around him. The lines of his cuisses press into the backs of Luke’s shaking thighs, and his cuirass is probably digging into Luke’s back, but he knows from the many times he’s fucked Luke in his armour that Luke likes the ache of it, likes the lingering bruises that it sometimes leaves.
“Okay?” Din asks, swallowing around a dry tongue.
“Mmhm,” Luke manages, nodding quickly. “I’m good. So good. Please, Din— Mand’alor, please move. Please fuck me.”
“Bossy.” Din grips Luke’s neck just a little tighter in reprimand, tugging at his necklace. “Don’t forget I’m the one in charge here, Jet’ika.” He punctuates the comment by licking up over the curve of Luke’s shoulder blade, picking a choice piece of skin and sealing his mouth around it. Luke moans as he sucks a deep, hot bruise into Luke’s flesh, Luke’s body trembling underneath his. “But, yes, I’m going to fuck you like you deserve.” He finds another spot and gives it the same treatment, sucking blood to the surface, digging his teeth in hard enough to bruise. “But you’re not going to cum, cyar’ika,” he says, “not until I let you.”
Luke whimpers pitifully, and Din smiles as he pulls back to admire the marks he’s left on Luke’s skin. Then he catches Luke’s eye as his husband looks at him over his shoulder, heart throbbing along with his cock as he drinks in the sight of Luke’s flushed cheeks and bright, gleaming gaze, pink mouth parted and expression already wrecked.
“Watch me,” Din commands, and Luke’s gaze is helplessly fixed on him as he braces himself on Luke’s lower back and withdraws his cock painfully slowly from it’s home. Luke keens as he does, face flushing deeper, but it’s when Din slams back inside him that his gaze goes unfocused and he lets out a loud wail.
Din fucks him roughly and relentlessly, driving forward with powerful thrusts that has the table jolting with every one of them. Luke’s loud, loud enough that Din’s worried that Grogu might hear, so he pulls Luke up by his hair and swallows Luke’s desperate cries with his mouth, holding Luke up with a firm hand around his throat. He keeps Luke’s back arched with his other hand against the small of Luke’s back, keeping his ass pushed out so he can fuck deep and fast into it.
Luke’s too far gone at this point for him to kiss Din back. He tries, the poor thing tries, but he ends up just letting Din ravage his mouth, teeth biting and tongue sweeping wetly through as Luke makes mindless noises.
Din’s beginning to overheat in his armour, but he’s not going to stop for anything, not even if a platoon of remnant stormtroopers bust through the door. At some point he has to catch his breath and he rips his mouth away from Luke’s, instead muffling Luke’s cries and keens by stuffing Luke’s mouth with his fingers. Luke drools around them, breathing desperately through his nose, body clenching tight around Din’s cock as Din begins to chase his release.
It builds and builds in Din’s core, a tight coil of white heat urged hotter and tauter by Luke’s desperate noises and tight, hot hole clinging to Din’s pounding cock. He ends up shoving Luke back down onto the table, holding his head down with a fistful of his hair and driving his cock deep once, twice, three times before he tips over that edge, gasping Luke’s name.
When the last after-shock of his orgasm has left him he finds himself hunched over Luke, buried to the hilt in Luke’s body, his fist tight in Luke’s hair. Luke’s shivering underneath him, gasping short, hurried breaths. Din lets go of Luke’s hair and pats over his head in an apology, carefully withdrawing his cock from Luke’s puffy, used hole. A rush of cum follows, dripping down over Luke’s full balls and down the insides of his thighs. For a moment Din just takes that sight in, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction to see the evidence of his claim on Luke’s body.
Luke’s whimpering pulls his attention away. “How’s my Jet’ika doing?” Din asks, his voice rough. He manhandles Luke’s body over onto his back, cupping Luke’s face and tilting it up to make his husband look at him.
Luke’s wrecked, flushed and sweaty, his mouth swollen and slick with saliva, his hair a fluffy, tangled mess on his head. His eyes stare up at Din, jewel-bright and gleaming in the dim light, framed by damp, dark blond lashes. The pink of his face reaches down his neck to his chest, a stark contrast against the silver of his mudhorn necklace resting against it. He’s a vision, and Din can’t help but lean down over him to capture Luke’s lax mouth in his, kissing him deeply.
Luke whines into his mouth and Din chuckles. He dots kisses down over Luke’s chin, placing a deliberate one right on the dip there, before nuzzling down Luke’s neck. Luke tips his head back to give him more room to work, trembling as Din’s moustache scrapes over his skin while Din sucks a line of dark marks down to his collarbone.
“Din, please,” Luke whimpers. His voice is hoarse and used, but Din ignores his husband’s pleas. Instead he captures a dusky rose nipple in his mouth and Luke lets out a high-pitched squeak, arching and squirming as Din flicks his tongue over the little bud.
Din pulls back sharply and gives Luke’s straining cock a light slap in punishment. It punches a half-pained, half-pleasured groan out of Luke.
“What did I say?” Din asks him.
Luke swallows. “Not to move,” he whispers.
“And what did you do?”
“I moved.” Luke almost looks heartbroken, and Din would usually cave because he loves his riduur and would never want to cause him any actual pain, but they’re going the distance tonight. He’s taking Luke as far as he can take him. They both deserve it after hardly seeing each other for weeks on end.
“Yes, you did,” Din agrees. He slaps Luke’s cock again, careful to not do any actual damage, and watches proudly as Luke cries out but doesn’t move. A dribble of pre-cum leaks down the side of Luke’s throbbing cock, and Din absentmindedly swipes it away with a thumb, reaching up to feed it to Luke.
Luke whimpers but obediently licks it up, chasing after Din’s thumb with his tongue as he pulls it away. Din hums, amused, and captures it between thumb and forefinger to give it a playful tug. Luke whines, and Din shows mercy by letting it go.
“I don’t think you’re learning your lesson,” Din comments, just a touch cruelly.
Luke lets out a desperate sob. He flexes against the restrains around his wrists but otherwise doesn’t truly move. “I am,” he says, “I swear, please, please let me come—”
Din slaps Luke’s dick again. Luke cries out, thighs shaking from where they’re framing Din’s hips. “You’ll come when I tell you to,” Din says sternly, reaching up to pinch one of Luke’s nipples ruthlessly. “Don’t you want to be a good Jet’ika for your Mand’alor?”
Luke nods frantically, tears building in his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he stutters.
Din smiles indulgently. “Then be a good little Jedi for me.” He locates his chair behind him and drags it closer by hooking an ankle around one of it’s legs. Then he sits down in it, grabbing Luke by his hips and manhandling the shorter man into his lap. Luke goes willingly, limbs boneless as he settles over Din’s thighs; warm, soft flesh against unforgiving beskar armour. Din pulls Luke’s bound hands over his head so they hook around his neck, and Luke blinks dazedly at him through his messy bangs.
“Come here,” Din rumbles, dragging Luke’s head closer to kiss him once more. Luke submits sweetly to him, letting Din suck at his lower lip and then lick boldly into his mouth, hungrily devouring him. Luke’s mudhorn signet necklace clinks against Din’s cuirass and Din’s chest glows warm at the reminder of their marriage, that he now has a clan of three. He breaks their kiss to press their foreheads flush together, their breath mingling between them. “Okay?” He asks gently. As much as he wants to keep going, he’ll stop if Luke says no.
“‘M very okay,” Luke lets him know, his voice a little thin and reedy with desire. “Anything you want, riduur.”
Din kisses Luke again, helpless against the surge of affection he feels for his husband. “Okay then,” he says. “If you come before I tell you too, cyare, you’re going to regret it.”
Luke shivers at the threat. “Yes, Mand’alor. I understand.”
Din smiles and bumps their noses together. “Good Jet’ika,” he husks.
Then he drops his hand down to Luke’s cock and wraps a firm grip around it. Luke lets out a startled cry, his cock jumping in Din’s palm. Din huffs out a laugh and nips at the sensitive outer curve of Luke’s ear, tugging at the soft lobe of it with his teeth.
He drags his fingers up Luke’s cock, the hard flesh searing hot and heavy with blood in his grip. He presses his thumb into the head of it, smearing Luke’s steadily dripping precum over the red skin, relishing in the way Luke’s entire body trembles.
“Din,” Luke whimpers, voice wobbly.
“Remember, no coming until I say,” Din reminds him, biting harder at Luke’s ear in warning. Luke whines but nods, hips twitching on Din’s thighs like he wants to thrust upwards, but knows better than to break Din’s rule of no movement.
Din begins to work at Luke’s cock, his grip dry but helped along by the copious amounts of precum Luke’s leaking. Luke’s panting into his ear, rough and shaky as he tries to hold himself back, his breathing interspersed by weak little keens as Din works him up into a state.
And then Luke is whimpering, thighs flexing either side of Din’s, chest heaving as his cock swells in Din’s hand. “Din,” he cries in warning, eyes huge and wet, and Din’s quick to pull his hand back, letting Luke shake through his unreached orgasm until he’s relaxing back into Din’s lap, tears spilling over the burnished gold of his lashes.
Din kisses away one of those tears, murmuring apologetically. “I know, love, I know. Here, this will help.” He grabs two handfuls of Luke’s ass and lifts him up, pulling him closer to hover over Din’s renewed erection. He lowers Luke slowly down, groaning softly as the head of his cock bumps up against where Luke is still wet and warm and open. Luke tips his head back and lets out a breathless, hoarse cry, shuddering as he’s carefully impaled again on Din’s cock, body opening up once more to accommodate the blood heavy breadth of Din’s dick.
Din’s arms shake with the effort of holding back and not just dropping Luke down onto his cock, resisting the urge to plunge deep into that warm wet heat, swollen and tight from him plundering Luke’s body before. It feels like an age until Luke’s ass is resting on his cuisses, and he has to drop his forehead onto the sweaty skin of Luke’s trembling shoulder to gather himself, his hands tight on Luke’s hips. Luke’s panting wetly into his ear, shaking in his hold and making tiny helpless sounds in the back of his throat, overwhelmed and overstimulated, and Din’s never loved someone more.
“Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, kissing a precious freckle on the curve of Luke’s collarbone. He dots more kisses up the line of Luke’s neck and then cups Luke’s face in his hands, brushing away tears with his thumbs. It’s so easy to capture Luke’s lips in his and steal Luke’s breath away, easy to rest his forehead against Luke’s and just feel Luke’s weight in his lap, his body clenching tight around him. “So good for me,” he praises, “so good. Perfect, riduur.”
Luke sobs against his mouth. Din smiles and then leans back in his seat, unhooking Luke’s arms from around his neck and placing his hands against his cuirass. He squeezes Luke’s hands, feeling flesh and beskar beneath synth-skin under his grip, before he drops his palms to Luke’s trim waist. “Go on, you can move now,” he says. “And you can come whenever you want.”
Luke lets out a moan of pure relief and starts grinding himself on Din’s cock, hips moving jerkily. His cock bobs between them, an angry red and dripping with precum, but when he reaches for it with his bound hands Din grabs them before he can touch himself. “No, my Jet’ika,” he gently admonishes. “You’ll come only on my cock, or not at all.”
“No,” Luke sobs, “Din, please, I can’t—I can’t—”
Din slaps Luke’s ass and Luke whines, body jerking with the force of the smack. “Yes, you can,” Din tells him, “I know you can. You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you, Luke?”
“Yeees,” Luke cries, his face a mask of anguish and wet with tears. He’s desperate, at the end of his rope, because Din’s never denied him like this before. “I wanna be good for you,” he whimpers, “but I don’t think—I don’t think I can—”
Din slaps him again and Luke wails. “Be good,” Din tells him, “and fuck yourself on my cock until you cum.”
Luke shakes his head, damp dark blond hair flying around his flushed face, but despite his protests he does as he’s ordered, lifting himself up with his shaking thighs and dropping himself back down again. He braces himself against Din’s cuirass, one sweaty hand slipping against the beskar and the other gripping tight as he bounces in Din’s lap. Din tips his head back against his chair and enjoys the sight of his husband wrecked and driven to tears in his lap, impaling himself over and over again on Din’s cock. It’s a sight that will easily bring him to his peak, urged along by the obscene sound of his dick squelching through cum and lube and into his husband’s body, the slapping of Luke’s thighs and ass against the beskar of his armour, the ruined, ravaged noises that tumble from Luke’s red lips.
Luke’s beginning to tire. His thighs are now shaking with the strain, his expression edging on distress. Din helps him along with a hand gripping his ass, fingertips brushing against where his cock enters Luke’s body over and over again. “You can do it, love,” he encourages, his other hand pinching one of Luke’s nipples, tugging at the peaked flesh. “You’re doing so well. So pretty on my cock, riduur, so pretty when you cry.”
“Please,” Luke babbles, the pitch of his voice full of anguish, “please, I need—I need—” He tips his head back, wailing to the ceiling.
“What do you need?” Din asks.
“Please touch me,” Luke weeps.
“I am,” Din says, lips quirking up at the sides.
“No!” Luke cries, “my cock, please, please, Mand’alor, please!”
Din smiles and pinches Luke’s nipple viciously. Luke howls, hips stuttering in their rhythm, hole clenching tight around Din’s cock. “No,” Din says, and he almost feels sorry for his husband when Luke lets out a mournful cry.
Luke continues to sob, hips moving frantically as he roughly fucks himself down on Din. Sweat drips down the side of his face, tears dropping from his chin as he cries out. His eyes are clenched shut tight, his brows drawn together and mouth open wide and gasping for air. His mudhorn crest jostles against his chest as he bounces, the beskar glinting in the low light.
“You’re so close, cyar’ika,” Din husks, thumbing over Luke’s abused nipple. “So close. You’re doing so well, trying so hard for me, I know you can do it. Come on, Luke, come on. Be good for me. Just a little more.”
“I can’t—I can’t—don’t—please—Din—” Luke’s babbling, and then his eyes are opening wide and sightless in shock, his back is arching, his body curving in one long taut line. He’s hovering right on the precipice, so close, and all it takes is him dropping down on Din’s cock one last time, and his head is tipping back and he’s screaming soundlessly as he finally, finally comes. It hits him like a sudden thunderstorm, powerful and unstoppable and devastating, ripping through him like an uncontrollable wildfire, and Din almost can’t believe it, except he can, and he’s so, so delighted by it.
Luke shakes and shakes and shakes through it, cock pulsing cum up his chest, and he’s barely breathing as his body spasms around Din. The sight of him, the feel of him is enough to send Din toppling over his own edge, his fingers digging bruises into Luke’s hips as he holds Luke down on his throbbing cock, his mouth gasping open as he works through his own orgasm.
He has to catch Luke as his husband collapses backwards after the last wave of pleasure crashes over him and leaves him limp and boneless. Luke’s head lolls weakly on his shoulders before Din pulls his husband close to him, burying his nose into Luke’s sweat-damp hair and breathing in his scent. “Luke,” he croaks, almost overwhelmed, “riduur.”
Luke makes a pathetic sound against his neck. Din chuckles breathlessly and pulls Luke back enough to rake his adoring gaze over Luke’s face, taking in his tear-stained red cheeks and half-lidded, dazed blue eyes. “You did so well,” he praises, “you’re perfect, Luke, so perfect for me.”
Luke manages a tired, weak grin, looking almost drunk. Din smiles at him, feeling so fond that it’s almost painful, his chest overflowing with affection. His legs are feeling a bit wobbly themselves, but Din finds the strength to stand from his chair, taking Luke with him, holding his husband like the precious bundle he is close to his chest. His cock slips from Luke’s body at the movement and Luke shudders, whimpering. He’s too fucked out to even wrap his legs around Din’s waist, a dead weight in Din’s arms, but Din doesn’t mind, easily able to carry his husband to their bed, swiping his helmet off the table as he goes.
He puts his helmet down on the bedside unit and lays Luke gently down on the sheets, brushing burnished gold strands of hair out of Luke’s eyes. Luke blinks dazedly at him, not at all fully cognizant, and Din thinks he could burst with all the affection that’s welling up inside of him right now. All he wants to do is lie down next to Luke and hold him close, but first he carefully unties Luke’s wrists, letting the shirt drop away to the floor.
Din gently massages Luke’s forearms, pleased to see that the shirt has only left faint red marks against Luke’s skin. “Feeling okay?” He asks, bringing both of Luke’s hands, real and synthetic, to his lips to kiss over their knuckles.
The only noise Luke makes is one that Din interprets as yes. Din drops one last kiss on the back of Luke’s cybernetic hand. “I’ll be right back,” he promises.
First he makes a quick trip back to the kitchen, filling a glass of water, draining it himself to quench his own thirst, and then filling it again. He searches through the conservator for a bowl of oi-oi berries that Grogu hasn’t gotten to yet and brings them back to the bedroom with him. He checks that Luke is still floating on clouds and then heads for their ‘fresher, dampening a cloth and bringing it back with him.
The bed dips underneath his weight as he sits next to Luke. Luke hasn’t moved, but his soft blue gaze tracks Din as he leans over his husband. “There you are,” Din says fondly, holding Luke’s chin as he wipes the mess of tears, sweat and saliva from Luke’s face.
“Hi,” Luke croaks and blinks slowly.
“Hi,” Din says back, rubbing the cloth down Luke’s chest and stomach to clean away his cum, and then carefully cleaning off his soft cock. “How are you feeling?”
Luke whines a little as Din opens his legs to wipe the mess from between his thighs and check that his ass doesn’t need some salve from Din spanking him. “Good,” he slurs, “reeeeal good.”
Din chuckles and drops the cloth to the floor to deal with in the morning. Luke’s ass is pink, but not fiery enough to require any kind of soothing ointment. “You’re probably going to be sore in the morning.”
“Worth it though,” Luke says, sighing happily and holding out his arms. “Come ‘ere, you.”
“Armour first,” Din says, holding Luke’s hands in his to kiss them again before dropping them. Luke pouts and lies back to watch him strip. Usually his husband would help him, but Din knows that Luke’s probably as coordinated as a new-born baby right now. Luke is always useless after an orgasm, especially after pretty intense ones.
Din hangs all his armour on his stand and then steps out of his flight suit and boots. When he finally lies down next to his husband he lets out a slow, contented breath, pulling Luke close and tugging the covers up over them. Luke willingly snuggles into his side, a warm line of affection and sleepiness against him.
“Thirsty?” Din asks, and Luke makes a kind-of sound. Din takes that as a yes and offers him the glass of water. Luke sips it from his hand until it’s half-empty, shaking his head when Din offers him more.
“I am kind of hungry though,” he says, eyeing up the bowl of oi-oi berries on the bedside table. Din huffs a light laugh and swaps out the glass of water for a handful of little red berries, feeding his husband from his fingers. Luke happily chews his way through them, offering one every now and then back to Din, chin tilted up and berry held delicately between his teeth. Din can’t resist an offer like that and takes them right out of Luke’s mouth with his, taking a moment every time to press their lips together, sharing the sweet taste of the berries between them.
Bowl empty, Luke lays his head on Din’s chest, nuzzling into him. Din buries his fingers in Luke’s messy hair, brushing a thumb over the shell of his ear.
“I didn’t think I could do that,” Luke murmurs.
“Do what?”
“Come untouched.”
“Neither,” Din admits.
Luke lifts his head and peers at him suspiciously. “What would you have done if I couldn’t?”
Din shrugs, but he’s smiling. “But you did.”
Luke grumbles, and Din drops a kiss on his forehead, moustache scratchy against Luke’s skin.
“You were beautiful, cyar’ika,” he whispers. “So good for me.”
Luke shivers happily at the praise and curls into him tighter, dropping his head back on Din’s chest. “You spoil me,” he says, sounding like a loth-cat who’s just stolen a bowl of bantha-milk.
“Yeah,” Din agrees, lips quirking in a smile.
“I love you,” Luke says, looking up through his bangs at him with adoration. “I missed you.” He stretches up to drop a kiss on Din’s mouth, and Din breathes contentedly through his nose. Their tongues tangle languidly, but they’re both too tired out for any real desire to flare between them.
“I love you too,” Din says when Luke pulls back. “And I missed you too. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” he whispers, kissing Luke again.
“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” Luke murmurs back against his lips, renewing their marriage vows with his words, and Din thinks his heart has never been fuller.
“Can’t you declare it a planetary holiday week?” Luke asks after a minute of shared, chaste, berry-sweet kisses. “And we can spend the entire time in bed eating takeout.”
“Grogu will probably get bored,” Din points out. “And Bo-Katan will throw a fit.”
“We can distract Grogu with a shipment of frogs,” Luke says. “And Bo-Katan can go screw herself.”
Din laughs. “If only that would work,” he says, only a little wistfully. “You know I can’t, cyar’ika.” If he knew he could get away with it, he would.
“I know,” Luke sighs. “At least we have the next two days together.”
“Yeah,” Din says, quietly pleased.
“We should take Grogu to that new food stall Cara told me about,” Luke murmurs, tucking his head under Din’s chin. He yawns, and Din does the same.
“Sounds good,” Din says, and Luke murmurs something unintelligible, already drifting off to slumber. Din smiles, rests a palm on Luke’s back to feel his husband’s breath lengthen and settle into sleep, and closes his eyes.