#in the sense of ''I cried throughout almost that entire lore stream''

[shikai-the-storyteller]

The only thing that's stopping me from writing a ten thousand page essay on Zulu and the implications from today's lore stream is the simple fact that Luzu hit such a specific special interest niche of mine that if I think about it too much I'll cry

But I will say one thing

Do you think when Zulu went to sleep, curled up all by himself and trapped in a small dark place he couldn't get out of, all he could think about was the sun?

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 21 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-20 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. This chapter is smut-heavy, but also delves into some SW lore, including my interpretation / extrapolation of Grogu's history with the Jedi. Overall, a soft, happy, smutty chapter - figured we were due one after an extended absence and so much emotional upheaval.

Likes and reblogs are endlessly appreciated!

Words: 6.0k update.

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“I don’t know much about the Jedi Order,” you began, a look of consternation on your face. “What I do know, is from what I’ve read in the few books that talk about them. The Jedi followed the light side of the Force, what’s commonly considered to be the good side. They had opposition though — the Sith followed the dark side. They continually fought, one side occasionally coming out on top of the other, but there was rarely any actual peace… or balance.”

Balance. You had spoken often about the emphasis that Ixxith placed on balance. Din had heard of both Jedi and Sith, however his knowledge was woefully slim; but he could see how these two powerful religious groups could have brought a shattering, tearing conflict and chaos into the galaxy, each one believing that their ideology was right.

“Grogu trained with the Jedi Order, until they fell. Their downfall seems to have come from their own… pride, or complacency, or something — and the Empire and the Sith took over. Grogu saw…” You paused, looking down to the small green face that was buried in your arms, nestled into the blanket. Grogu’s ears drooped, and he made a small, sad sound.

Din felt something ache in his chest, like a pulled muscle.

“Grogu saw many of his friends, other younglings — or foundlings — killed by a Jedi who had turned to the dark side.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and Din could hear the tears that were hovering on the edge, teetering and threatening to spill over.

This ship had seen enough tears for today.

"I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else. And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms with iron bars, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us anymore.” - Franz Kafka, The Castle

While there had been times in his life in which Din regretted having to remain concealed from you, this was not one of them. He had never had to account for any of his facial expressions before, and the expressiveness that was concealed by the mask had worked out in his favor this time. He had been incredibly nervous and worried when he heard your whimpers and cries coming from the bunk; he tried to wake you up gently, tried to reassure you, but it seemed as though you had disappeared from him yet again — this time into some sort of nightmare that he was powerless to save you from. He could imagine that the look on his face in that moment would have only scared you further, showing all of the pain and worry that had been steadily cresting into a tsunami since finding you in the alleyway. He felt as though he had spent the last several days walking on eggshells, terrified that something, some misstep, might take you away from him — and this was a kind of fear that was new to Din, having never before held anything that would be painful to lose.

When you finally woke up, tears still streaming, he could feel a piece of his heart break for all of the pain that you had carried throughout your life. He thought you had been doing better over the past several weeks and months, as your spirit seemed to grow brighter and more carefree; but it was naive of him to think that the pain had gone away entirely. It had receded, like the tides, but like the tides, it would always come back; sometimes gently, sometimes crashing, but it was a piece of you and always would be.

He had also been surprised to see you wearing a jacket to bed; he didn’t recall having seen it before, and he didn’t recall you getting up to put it on. It was odd, and he vaguely intended to ask you about it at some point, but it was lower on the list of his priorities at this time. His focus had since shifted to getting both you and the kid to Tython safely; while he couldn’t teach the two of you about the Force, he could try and bring you closer to the knowledge and the peace that you were seeking.

Grogu had agreed to this new expedition, after returning to the Razor Crest and discussing the options that were available. You and Grogu both appeared to be nervous, but also excited as you pondered what this could mean for your futures, both shared and independent. The three of you seated in the familiar cockpit of the ship, the air surrounding you all felt somewhat charged or electric, almost as if Din could feel it on his tongue — what was that? Excitement? Hope?

“I don’t know how quickly — how quickly someone may be able to sense us, or find us. Or if we’re supposed to stay in that spot until somebody does?” You wondered aloud, slouching back into your seat in the cockpit. Grogu was resting in your lap, playing with the buttons and ties on your jacket as you bounced your knee nervously, jostling him slightly. He cooed and laughed up at you, and Din watched your eyebrows raise up in surprise. He wished he had some way to participate, to share this communication and bond that you and the kid had.

“Well, I suppose you’re right — we really haven’t thought this through too much, but we can figure it out.” You sighed, your hand coming up to absentmindedly rub Grogu’s fuzzy green ear.

Figure what out?

Din felt excluded from this conversation, being as he could only hear one side of it; but he worked to remind himself that this Force stuff was a unique tie that you and Grogu shared, one that he shouldn’t intrude on. Din knew that the two of you would share many of the same hopes and fears, that would come along with this blind step that you would be taking together. He couldn’t resent either of you for this, and truthfully, he was thankful that he had no such ties to the Force. It was intriguing, but seemed to cause just as many problems as it solved.

Leaning back slightly into his seat, he watched the way you watched the stars, loving the peaceful scene that was unfolding here within the walls of his ship — was it really his ship anymore? You and Grogu had just as much claim to this space as he did. He watched the way that Grogu smiled up at you, leaned his head into your chest, clung to you like a child would cling to its mother. He watched you tuck your feet underneath you, nestling closer into yourself as you often did when you were cold. Smiling to himself, concealed by the helmet, he grabbed the soft blanket that had been kicked to the side of the cockpit so many days ago; he shook it out gently and reached over to drape it across the armrest of your seat. You didn’t seem to notice in the moment, however, as your focus had been drawn away from the stars, and back to the child in your arms.

You hummed lowly, wrapping Grogu more securely into your arms. “No, I don’t think we need to worry about that. They came to the same end that the Empire did.”

The both of you were worried about something, Din could sense it in the room, despite the words of reassurance and confidence that you shared with Grogu. “They?” He asked, gently stepping into the conversation.

Your back straightened considerably at his words, almost as though you had been so wrapped up in your conversation with Grogu that you had forgotten Din was there. “Oh. Grogu is — was — worried about what could happen, if… if it isn’t a Jedi that finds us on Tython.”

Din stayed quiet, allowing you the chance to elaborate if you wanted. His silence seemed to encourage you, as you turned the seat to face him, to better carry out the conversation. The blanket that Din had tried to give to you earlier fell into your lap, and you smiled at him as you wrapped both Grogu and yourself up in it.

He wanted to wrap up in that blanket with you, in bed, feel your body against his — he blinked rapidly, trying to return his focus to the subject at hand. Now was not the time.

“I don’t know much about the Jedi Order,” you began, a look of consternation on your face. “What I do know, is from what I’ve read in the few books that talk about them. The Jedi followed the light side of the Force, what’s commonly considered to be the good side. They had opposition though — the Sith followed the dark side. They continually fought, one side occasionally coming out on top of the other, but there was rarely any actual peace… or balance.”

Balance. You had spoken often about the emphasis that Ixxith placed on balance. Din had heard of both Jedi and Sith, however his knowledge was woefully slim; but he could see how these two powerful religious groups could have brought a shattering, tearing conflict and chaos into the galaxy, each one believing that their ideology was right.

“Grogu trained with the Jedi Order, until they fell. Their downfall seems to have come from their own… pride, or complacency, or something — and the Empire and the Sith took over. Grogu saw…” You paused, looking down to the small green face that was buried in your arms, nestled into the blanket. Grogu’s ears drooped, and he made a small, sad sound.

Din felt something ache in his chest, like a pulled muscle.

“Grogu saw many of his friends, other younglings — or foundlings — killed by a Jedi who had turned to the dark side.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and Din could hear the tears that were hovering on the edge, teetering and threatening to spill over.

This ship had seen enough tears for today.

He reached a gloved hand out towards you and the kid, and it came to rest under Grogu’s small green chin. Din noticed the wiry white hairs that protruded from it, and he marveled at the idea that something so small and childlike could somehow be older than him. Grogu blinked heavily and a fat tear rolled down his chubby cheeks, landing on the leather that covered Din’s palm. Grogu’s small hands reached out towards Din, his lower lip quivering slightly, and instinctively Din moved forward to pick the kid up, pulling him into his chest. He could feel the small thing shaking against him, and he held him closer, needing to make him feel safe and secure in any way that he could. For all of their travels together, Din had kept him safe, had never left him; and despite his inability to truly communicate with the kid, Din loved him, and trusted that Grogu knew that he loved him.

Din shifted Grogu’s small body in his arms, before reaching out to place his other hand against your knee; he gave it a small squeeze, a gentle reminder that you and Grogu were not alone here. He understood how terrifying it felt, having no sense of what may come next, having little agency in the narrative of your life. He had been in this place before, as a foundling, and wanted to offer you both the support and consolation that he would have wanted for his younger self.

Din watched you smile up at him, a small, sad thing; a shallow breath escaped from his chest as he watched you continually put up a brave and confident front. You always fought to put on a brave face, whether that brave illusion was for yourself or somebody else.

“The Sith fell when the Empire did. They’re gone.” You said softly, reaching out to clasp Grogu’s small hand in yours. “And while I may not have met her, I trust this Ahsoka to lead us to a safe place, not into harm’s way.”

Grogu nodded, his wrinkled skin and large ears rubbing against Din’s chest plate. Din could feel him begin to relax as he continued to hold him closely. Grogu had liked the one Jedi he had met in his travels with Din, and Din had to agree with your declaration of trust. Din hadn’t felt particularly fond of her, but she had proven to be honest and trustworthy so far — and that went quite a ways in Din’s book.

“How about we get you to bed?” You asked, an eyebrow raising with a smile as you looked on at Grogu. “We’ve got a ways to go before we reach Tython, and I think some time to rest may do you some good.”

Grogu gurgled a sound that Din assumed to be positive, or some sort of agreement, and watched as you pushed yourself up from the seat that you had been reclining in. He couldn’t help but notice the way that your pants clung to you, as the blanket fell away from your frame; he bit the inside of his lip as he passed the kid back to you, noticing the way that the soft, sensitive skin of your chest and neck was on display. Maybe putting the kid to bed was a good idea, he reasoned, as he felt something stir in his stomach.

He watched you as you turned to walk out of the cockpit, enjoying the way that your hips swayed with every step that you took; he loved the dips in your hips, loved the movement of your thighs, loved watching the muscles move together flawlessly in a way that lured him into a hot, heady, overpowering trance. His body seemed to take over, take control, and he felt himself rising up from his seat to follow you, needing to be close to you. He needed to touch you, needed to taste you, needed to feel you.

His mind was occupied by explicit images of you, images that stood out in stark contrast against the sweet scene playing out before him; you were humming and patting the kid’s back, rocking back and forth on the same hips that he had just been fantasizing of. Grogu’s eyes were drooping, and Din watched you sneak the wampa into the kid’s waiting grasp. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the saccharine sight unfold, watching the two people that he loved the most share this moment of security and tranquility.

A more primal part of him was trying to rush this scene along, wanting you to place the kid in his cradle so Din could have his way with you; he hoped that you didn’t hear his sigh of relief that escaped when you finally put the whimpering kid into his bed. The way that you bent over, positioning your ass directly in his line of sight, made him think that you had, in fact, heard it, and knew full well what you were doing.

After he heard the cradle close, he couldn’t help himself from stepping forward and into you, loving how your body immediately pressed itself backwards into him; he felt his heart beat pounding with ferocity as he felt the curve of your ass pressing against his thighs and his half-hardened cock. His hands snaked across your body, moving from your waist to trace their way across your stomach and down to your center. He couldn’t help but notice the way your breath hitched in your throat, and he pinched you ever so gently, your shoulders and backside pressing even further into him.

He used the placement of his hands to guide your willing body back to the cockpit, much to your surprise; the two of you had grown accustomed to the makeshift bed on the floor, but Din had another plan in mind. He loved the way that you grinned up at him, trusting him and leaning into this new experience with him.

Din guided the both of your bodies towards his seat in the cockpit; sitting down into the aged and shaped leather, he guided you down onto his lap and groaned as he felt the pressure of your body pressing against his stiffened cock. His hand instinctively traveled up the length of your spine, pressing into you, before coming to tangle into your hair; he gave an experimental tug and reveled in the whimpering sound that he received in return. Your hands moved upwards to rest on the beskar helmet, a subtle request to take it off; but Din shook his head ever so slightly, and he knew that you understood.

You arched your back as you sat up on his lap, your hips driving into his as you grinned wickedly at him. You may not be able to kiss him, may not be able to nip and bite at his neck as you normally would, but the sight of you bathed in the starlight of hyperspace was something otherworldly. His hands moved upwards to cup your breasts, loving the way that he could feel each breath you inhaled; his thumbs pressed into the soft flesh, and you leaned into his touch with a whine. He dragged his gloved hands across your chest, pulling away the soft fabric that had kept you concealed from him, and watched the way that your nipples raised in response the cool temperature of the cockpit.

Din groaned underneath you as he continued to push your shirt down and off of your chest, until it was entirely removed from your arms and resting loosely around your stomach. “You’re the most beautiful thing in this galaxy, cyar’ika.”

You smiled at him prettily, and he loved seeing the way that the stars streaking past you glittered in the depths of your eyes. He let you bring both of his hands upwards, noticing the way that your small hands barely wrapped around his, and then you pulled off the gloves that had kept him separated from the warmth of your skin. You brought one hand to rest on your breast, and another up to your face; he watched you curiously and excitedly as your mouth parted, taking both his index and middle finger into your mouth.

He gasped as he felt the familiar, soft heat of your mouth against his fingers; his hips bucked up into yours, his throbbing cock needing the stimulation; he could feel you smiling as you sucked on his fingers, and he groaned at your devilish and intentional teasing. His hand that was not currently buried within your mouth palmed your breast with ferocity, his thumb stroking the raised bud of your nipple; under normal, darkened circumstances he would take the bud in his mouth, dragging his hot tongue across it, but he had chosen to leave the helmet on this time and would not be able to use his mouth against you. He would just have to explore some new avenues.

He groaned in disappointment as you pulled away, before realizing that you had moved just enough to undo the belt that was slung across his waist. He watched you shift the rough, utilitarian fabric of his pants lower and lower, until his cock sprung forward from the fabric. He loved the greedy and excited look in your eyes, as you gazed on at him as if he was the only sight in your sky.

You sank to your knees before your small hand came up to grasp his cock, and he hissed through the modulator at the sensation; for all of the years he had spent in isolation, with no physical company except for that of his own hand, he relished in the still-unfamiliar touch of another person, of you. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to press his lips against yours, and yet he had chosen to keep the helmet on, a piece of him intrigued by what may occur between your bodies in the absence of this type of contact.

Your eyes flicked up at him, a devilish glint present as your lips wrapped around the girth of his cock, tongue tracing across it hotly with a pressure that felt both heavy and unholy. Every inch of you was fucking incredible, and he couldn’t help himself from reaching out to grab a fistful of hair. Din couldn’t deny that he loved the way that your mouth sank down even further onto his cock as his grip against you tightened.

Din felt an undeniable tension and heat spreading throughout his body, and with a gasp he pulled you up and away from his throbbing cock; he had other intentions for you, intended to fill that sweet, beautiful pussy with his thick and lengthy cock, intended to fill you up with hot ropes of cum. And yet — seeing you here, on the floor of the cockpit, saliva dripping down your chin while he held onto you by a fistful of hair — well, the sight threatened to undo him right then and there.

He let his head roll back, eyes closing; it felt nearly impossible to tear his eyes away from you, but he needed a minute to regain some composure before losing himself.

In his moment of respite, you had apparently grown impatient with him, and he felt the heat of your mouth against his balls; you rolled your tongue across them and Din felt a curse slip past his lips. He growled as he felt you begin to suck him further into your mouth, your tongue keeping up its ungodly, torturous movements. His hand that was still fisted in your hair yanked you back with some force, as he gasped desperately for air; and while he had almost felt bad about the way in which he had pulled you off of him, the pleased and preening look in your eye told him that you had played him, that you had gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Up,” he growled, his hand moving away from your scalp to help guide your flushed and burning body away from the floor as he remained seated. You complied, and Din thanked the gods, thanked the Force, whatever was out there, that you hadn’t chosen this time to be stubborn. “Strip,” He commanded, his voice hoarse; he gestured towards your few items of clothing that had been pushed askew. He needed them off of you, needed to see the way your skin would glow for him underneath the stars, needed to see how you would glow when you came on top of him.

You obliged his request, and he watched the last pieces of your clothing fall to the floor — and he was right in his previous assessment about your beauty. You looked positively angelic bathed in the light of the stars, with your body brazenly on display in the windows of the cockpit, and yet with nobody except Din and the galaxy to witness it. You drew your arms in closely around your form, wrapping them around your chest as you fought off the chill; Din chuckled softly, continually amused by how somebody so devastatingly hot could always be so cold.

You rolled your eyes at Din’s laughter, and that irrespective gesture made some sort of red heat flare up in his chest; he sat up taller in the seat of the chair, and despite his seated frame he was nearly at eye level with you. He spread his legs out widely, his cock standing erect, and gestured with an uncovered hand to come here.

You approached with a grin, your legs moving to rest on the edge of the seat, by his thighs, but Din had other intentions. Right as you were about to sit down on him, he grabbed you by the waist and spun you around, until you were facing away from him; and he was treated to the sight of your hair tumbling in disarray, and the sight of your perfect ass pressed against him.

You gasped at Din’s sudden and unexpected movement, and Din felt your body momentarily tense up underneath his hands; he chuckled again, smirking just a bit. He snaked a hand down across your stomach and to your center, pulling your willing body even further into his as he guided the tip of his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. “Relax, cyar’ika.” He murmured, before forcefully pulling your hips downwards to push his entire length inside of you.

You cried out at the intrusion, but Din could feel the way that your body responded to him, could feel the way that you opened up and blossomed for him as you always did. He still marveled at how you managed to take him all, knowing that the sight of your tight pussy taking the entirety of his throbbing cock was one of his favorite sights to see. He lifted you up by your hips, hands gripping into your soft skin, as he shifted your weight before pulling you back down onto him. He loved the way your back arched for him, loved the breathy, needy cries that you exhaled with each thrust upwards and into you.

Din reached a hand forward to spread your legs further, guiding them to rest on top of his, allowing you the ability to ride him and regain some measure of control. His hand found its place between your thighs, his large, calloused fingers tweaking the sensitive bundle of nerves that he had learned how to play like the finest of instruments; he groaned as he felt you tighten and spasm above him, gripping the thick and throbbing length of his cock. You were fucking incredible, more beautiful and perfect and sensual and dirty than he ever would’ve thought he would deserve.

“Do you like that, sweet girl? Like riding my cock right here, in the cockpit? Earning its name, isn’t it? What a sweet, dirty girl you are for me.” Din whispered, one hand continuing to trace pressured patterns into your clit while his other hand came up to tangle itself in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back towards him, before your hot cheek came to rest against the freezing beskar of his helmet. Despite the barrier offered by the beskar, he would’ve sworn that he could still feel the heat of you against his cheek, as if nothing had been separating the two of you. Whether it was here in the cockpit, or in the casino on Canto Bight, you had always managed to look past all of the beskar to see the man underneath it.

Din loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to choose what to do from here — and as your hands came outwards to rest on Din’s knees, giving yourself the balance necessary to continue to ride him, he knew that he was a goner, knew that he’d do whatever you asked of him. He liked to play, to pretend that he was in control, and yet as he watched your body move against his in the starlight, he understood that sense of power was an entertaining illusion, but at the end of each and every day he was entirely enchanted by you. He would give you any pleasure, any comfort that you asked, he would give you every single star in the sky — he would give you his name, make it yours; he would give you any sight of him that you desired. Any sight, were you only to ask.

He felt his cock twitching as you continued to draw your body back down and into his; there was a tightness and a heat spreading like wildfire through his chest, coursing through his body and brightening and sensitizing every nerve. He groaned and a curse fell from his lips, as his body continued to react instinctively to the incredible sensation of your pussy clenched tightly around him; his hand ripped away from its place between your thighs, and his hand cracked sharply against your ass. He loved the way his palm stung with the impact, loved the way that he watched the soft flesh ripple and quake beneath his hand. This was a good angle, worth repeating.

He could feel your body tightening above his, could feel the way that your muscles were coiling in a familiar way that he had grown to love; he growled in your ear, the modulator making it seem even more ferocious. He offered one more sharp slap against your backside before his fingers resumed their rightful place against your clit, but this time with increased pressure and pace, determined to make you cum before him, determined to feel the way you would soak him with your orgasm before his rapidly-approaching release.

“Din— D-Din, fuck, please,” you whimpered, and he sat up in the seat before wrapping an arm around your chest, pulling you into him tightly, to the point where he wasn’t sure where his breaths began and yours ended. Maybe he couldn’t give you all the stars in the sky, but he could give you this, would spend every day of his life giving you this, making you feel blissful and adored in a way that he trusted only he could.

He nestled his covered head into your shoulder, continuing to hold your burning body against his as he fucked up and into you; his other hand continued to stroke against your clit, each movement making you quake against him in a way that he loved and burned into his memory. His breaths became heavy as he felt you tightening around him; you were positively burning now, your skin hotter than the stars that flew above you, and Din knew you were getting close from the way that you cried and keened at his touch.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, working to coax you even higher as the two of you chased that orgasm. “Want to feel you cum on my cock, sweet girl, want to feel you cum for me. You just love the way I fuck you, don’t you?” He fought off the waves of pleasure that were licking against him as he wanted to bring you to that peak, wanted to know your needs were taken care of. He would always take care of you, even though he knew you’d never need him to.

You gasped, your breaths becoming increasingly more shallow and desperate as you continued to burn and tense beneath his touch. “Want — want you to cum for me, c-cum inside me, please, Din — want to, need to feel you cum for me—“

Your desperate pleas for him to cum were going to be his undoing — he had understood that he could never deny you what you wanted, and fuck if this wasn’t included in it. He tried to fight it, the valiant piece of himself wanting to get you there first, not wanting to be selfish in this pleasure. “Gonna cum for you, but please— be a good girl, cum for me first, cyar’ika —“

“What does that mean?” You asked curiously, momentarily drawing his attention away from his impending orgasm. This brief shift in attention allowed for him to catch his breath and turn his focus back to you. He brought his hips upwards into yours with an almost bruising force, continuing to drive his desperately aching cock into your throbbing and clenching pussy as he fought to get you there.

The two of you were gasping and sweating, the previously-cool air of the cabin now burning with the undeniable heat of desperate, loving bodies — and your hands came to rest against Din’s, holding them against your flaming skin, as you whispered a small, simple request to him. “Cum with me, Din, please.”

He groaned and the tension that had been building within his body came to a head, as your body tensed to a shatter point; as he felt an avalanche of pleasure an relief crash through him, he felt your body crashing in pleasure against him, your pussy gripping him tightly and soaking him with the waves of your orgasm. He felt his release spreading within you, loving the way that he buried his spent cock and his cum deeply inside you; there was something primal and instinctual about this release that made his skin crawl with an animalistic kind of satisfaction and pride.

Your body was shaking against his with the combined sensations, and Din’s grip shifted from a constraining, desperate grasp to a more soft and gentle one; he cradled you against him, and as your burning body came to rest against his beskar, he suddenly resented it for the distance it created. He wanted to feel you entirely, wanted to drink in every single second of bliss that the two of you shared, unsullied and undiluted by the anonymity he had fought for years to maintain. He shifted the positioning of his arms so one was cradled under your shoulders, and another was wrapped underneath your knees. He brought your relaxed and shaking form up to rest against his, needing more contact than what he had previously allowed. “Keep your eyes closed,” He murmured quietly.

“Please.” He added softly.

Din watched your eyes flutter closed and while he missed the sight of them, missed the starlight reflected in them, he wanted something else more. He reached upwards to pry the helmet off of himself, having suddenly felt quite suffocated by, it despite the excellent filtration and air quality it offered him. He needed to fully be here in this moment, with you. He dropped the helmet to the floor, the solid beskar setting off a clanging sound that echoed throughout the cockpit, but he didn’t care — all he cared about right now was kissing you.

His lips found yours with a surety and confidence that made his heart soar; he felt attuned to your body, to your desires, and he loved this newfound physical familiarity that he had developed; he had never known anybody this intimately before. He kissed your lips, your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, everything that he could reach, relishing in every second and sensation of contact that he was allowed.

Tightening his arms around you, he pulled you upwards and into his chest as he stood up from the chair in the cockpit; he felt you gasp in surprise against him, but then you relaxed into his grasp, trusting him, and also being exhausted from your previous indulgences. His pants slung lowly around his hips, he carried your naked form forward and into the cabin of the ship, moving towards the fresher. The two of you were a mess, dampened by sweat and the release of orgasm, and there was nothing in this galaxy that sounded better than a shower.

You had kept your eyes dutifully closed until the darkness surrounding you grew even darker, as the light in the fresher turned off. Din couldn’t see hardly anything in here, but the years of familiarity gave him an advantage that allowed for him to turn on the water and guide your bodies into it, without so much as a stubbed toe or a misstep.

“You never answered me earlier,” you said quietly, your voice holding a sort of… nervousness, that caught Din off guard. He stayed quiet for a moment, trying to sort through what had transpired in the cockpit. You seemed to take his silence as an invitation to elaborate, and Din was continually grateful that you often made the effort to speak up and initiate. “You didn’t tell me what that word meant; you called me cyar’ika. I’ve never heard that before.”

Din pulled your body closer into his, loving the way that the two of you fit together so flawlessly. “I thought you could understand almost any language,” he teased, as he relaxed into you and the water that flowed down across your bodies.

“It’s Mando’a, isn’t it?”

Din nodded.

“I’ve never heard anyone speak it before, not until you.”

Din felt a sort of pressure in his throat; being still somewhat unfamiliar and removed from his own emotions, he struggled to allow himself to feelthem, and it was nearly impossible to identify them. He wasn’t sure what this feeling, both physical and emotional was, but… he didn’t dislike it? No, he actually quite liked the idea of sharing a first experience with you, of having something that would permanently connect him to you — even if life someday took the two of you apart, he knew that you would always think of him whenever you heard someone speak his language. “Words in Mando’a often have… many meanings.” He paused, trying to find the right words to share. “It means… Beloved. Darling. Sweetheart.”

Din could feel your breath catch at his quiet admission, and as you whispered a response, he hung on your every word.

���I’ve never heard anybody speak that to me before either.”

***

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