It wasn’t until the late afternoon that Din’s day fully derailed.
He’s waiting outside of Luke’s training temple for Grogu to be released for the day, just as he usually does. Leaning up against a nearby pillar, Din can feel the gentle warmth of the sun radiating through his helmet. Yavin 4 isn’t a planet with much natural shade - the grassy ground is mostly level and trees and shrubbery are far and few between - so Din is grateful that the sun is never too oppressively hot. Having suffered through many hostile climates in the years that he bounty hunted, he could attest that the heat was one of more dangerous elements; the heavy, bulky beskar cooked him like a furnace. In fact, one of the first times he had spoken casually with Luke, they had shared their distaste for the overwhelming heat of the Tatooine suns.
(Din still finds it hard to believe that someone like Luke, who radiates such unadulterated livelihood, could have been raised on that womp rat infested, Hutt-ridden dust ball. The bright warmth that he exudes must be a result of the sunlight that he spent years absorbing from those oppressive twin suns.)
Din straightens, pushing himself off of the crumbling stone pillar, as Luke’s students begin to rush out of the temple’s entrance, giggling and chatting amongst themselves. The sound of their youthful banter carries after them as they walk towards the village. Din isn’t the only parent to live in the village so that he can be near his child, but the other parents are much more hands-off; the other children are older and need less supervision. Grogu, who for all intents and purposes is still a toddler, can’t be left to waddle from their house unsupervised. To nobody’s surprise, Din is not willing to entrust the protection of his only child to a group of half-trained preteens, no matter how well-intentioned they are or how seemingly safe the short walk from his house to the temples is. Luke was completely accommodating, if not a little amused, when Din originally asserted that Grogu must be picked up from his training by himself or a pre-approved person (most frequently Cara, though she rarely has the time to visit). Despite his sunny disposition, Din knows that Luke is far from unacquainted with the dangers that lurk in the galaxy.
Shortly after the group of kids vanish down the path to the village, Luke strides out of the temple, Grogu tucked in the crook of his arm. The contrast between the black, loose clothes that Luke often adorns and the vibrancy of his silky, golden hair never fails to stun Din. Slung over his opposite shoulder, Luke carries a mesh, drawstring bag full of unlit training sabers. Din’s willing to bet that he’s taking them back home to tinker with and study overnight.
Luke smiles brightly at Din as he steps into the sunlight, approaching with Grogu in his arms.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” Luke greets easily as he reaches Din. “I had to pack up our equipment; this is the last session of the day.”
Din shakes his head and reaches to take the kid off of him. Grogu goes with him easily, excitedly patting the sides of his helmet with his small, clawed hands in greeting. Under the helmet, Din’s lips quirk in a small, amused smile; he’s picked the kid up from his training everyday for the past year, and each time Grogu greets him with as if they’ve been separated for days.
Din will never tire of it.
“How’d he do?” Din asks, turning his attention back to Luke. He catches him watching them with a fond, soft look on his face.
“Oh, you know.” Luke starts with a mischievous grin, looking at Din in the coy way that makes his stomach twist in knots, “Great, considering he was missing you almost as much as I was.”
Din scoffs at the cheesy line. He leans down to softly bump his beskar-covered forehead to Luke’s soft skin. He watches through the lens of the visor as Luke closes his eyes, leaning into his affectionate touch contentedly. For all the galaxy, Luke looks as satisfied as a loth cat, stretched out in the sun. Still, a nagging, intrusive thought emerges. Din’s stomach clenches with guilt as he distantly wonders if this is enough for him - if Luke ever longs for more, as he so often does.
The moment is interrupted as the child wiggles in Din’s arms so that he can face Luke, babbling incomprehensibly. Luke quickly leans back from their pseudo-kiss and looks down at him with rapt attention for several moments, even after the babble ceases. His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.
“Tonight?” he asks Grogu directly. “I don’t know, young one, we can just try again tomorrow…”
Luke trails off and stares at Grogu again, clearly listening to some response before letting out a sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Din asks, not unused to these silent conversations.
Luke’s round eyes glanced up to meet his through the visor in the unnervingly accurate way they often do.
“Nothing’s wrong ,” Luke specifies, running a hand through his hair as he speaks. His eyes glance off to the neighboring village, watching the grass sway through the breeze as he continues. “Grogu had some trouble grasping our lessons today. Have you noticed anything weird with him lately?”
Din looks down at his son, examining him with concern. Grogu gurgles innocently back up at him. In Din’s opinion, he looks completely healthy, but Grogu’s species is unknown, let alone the specifics of his biology. Luke and Ahsoka Tano, who have both told stories of a deceased Jedi master named Yoda, are the only two people Din knows that had even met another of his kind. He hasn’t noticed any unusual behaviors that would indicate illness, either; Grogu had eaten a full breakfast that morning and had been his usual curious self when Din had dropped him off.
“No, not really. Is he falling behind?”
Luke shakes his head reassuringly. “Not at all. Grogu is one of my most advanced. He’s usually a quick learner, but it’s not unexpected that he’d have an off day.” Luke smiles kindly at Grogu and lightly touches his fingers to the tip of one pointed ear. The child coos happily. Grogu had always taken exceptionally well to Luke - something that Din loves most about him.
“Especially being so young,” Luke adds, looking back at Din, seemingly oblivious to the warmth that courses through him.
“Good,” Din responded. “We don’t have many other Jedi schools to apply to if he doesn’t make it at this one.”
Luke laughs and presses his lips together, humming affirmatively. “Well, he can always pursue his training the way I did.”
“Strangely, I’m hesitant to ship him off to a swamp and have him pledge himself to a crazy hermit,” Din says dryly. The kid bounces in his arms, seemingly loving the humor that’s being made at his expense.
Luke shrugs, grinning widely. “Can’t imagine why, when the result is clearly this amazing.” He teasingly gestures towards himself.
Din takes the opportunity to visually sweep Luke over from head to toe. He’s quiet for a moment, debating whether or not he should say anything in response.
“‘Amazing’ is a good word for you,” he finally says firmly. His tone is too serious and meaningful; the brevity of the moment is lost.
Luke’s grin loses it’s teasing edge as he looks at Din with an unplaceable emotion. His smooth skin flushes a light pink at the praise. He seems lost in thought as he examines Din thoroughly; it’s as if he can see right through the armor.
The intensity of the moment is interrupted by a Grogu’s insistent babble. It seems he hasn’t finished conversing with his master, batting up at his hand to get his attention.
Luke flushes a brighter red as he seems to remember himself. He looks adorably flustered as Grogu regains his attention.
“Oh! Of course, sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “Grogu wanted to ask you if I could come by your house tonight to work with him on his lessons. He’s not very far behind, so it shouldn’t take long.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind spending the extra time? He might be able to catch up tomorrow.”
“Not at all!” Luke protests. He smiles at Din, the tension from before already gone. “Besides, who could refuse that face?” Luke grinned, laughing lightly at the child. He reaches between them to affectionately stroke Grogu’s wrinkled cheek with the back of a curved finger.
Din privately agrees. He’s long since known that he’d find a way to move moons at Grogu’s command. He looks from his delighted son to a smiling, beautiful Luke, and, with a small burst of panic, he fully realizes, not for the first time, that the sentiment no longer applies only to Grogu.
An hour later, the sun of Yavin begins to set, filling the modest wood home that Din and Grogu share with orange light. Din moves efficiently around the kitchen, preparing dinner in an attempt to keep his nerves at bay. Grogu clearly delights in his discomfort; it’s unlike Din to be fidgety or nervous, and Grogu watches with clear amusement in his bulbous black eyes. Din can’t help but wonder how he’s fallen so far.
He briefly longs for the past, when the imperceptible nature of the armour used to shield him from scrutiny. More often than not, it seems that that once all-encompassing privacy is lost forever. Din could choose to hide himself under a suit unyielding beskar or walk around completely naked, and Luke could read him just as easily either way. It used to be more than a little unnerving how accurately and seemingly effortlessly Luke could anticipate his reactions, but now, after almost a full year of close residence in the Jedi training temple and the surrounding village, Din has come to terms with Luke’s ‘intuition’ being an unassuming personality trait rather than strategy or purposeful invasiveness.
Din has had to rethink everything that he thought he knew over the course of this year. The way that Luke’s vivid blue eyes unfalteringly meet his gaze dead-on through the gleaming surface of Din’s helmet everytime; the way that Luke seems to always know when Din feels overwhelmed by his sudden and drastic lifestyle change (he always seems to know what to say when this happens too, but Din assumes that that’s less of a Jedi thing and more of a Luke thing); the way that Luke and Grogu can communicate in ways that he’s never witnessed in all his years of galactic travel - it’s all apart of the vague, conceptual Force that Din will never fully grasp (not for a lack of trying, either).
And now, after all he’s sacrificed for the kid - his ship, his Creed, his once thriving bounty hunting career - Grogu has decided to gleefully take what little remains of his pride, too.
“What is so funny?” Din demands in a menacing voice. He tries to keep the nerves from affecting his tone, but he can’t tell how successful he is; especially as his voice is currently completely unfiltered by his helmet, which lies gleaming on the table in between them.
Apparently he’s not very successful at all; the kid just looks back up at him, his large, green ears flopping around his face as his small body shakes with giggles. As Grogu has grown and opened under Din’s attentive parenting and Luke’s careful instruction, he’s grown more comfortable, revealing more of the mischievous nature that Din had often encountered while they were on the run together.
With the revelation that he was raised by cultists, the Creed is another thing he’s had to rethink over the course of the year. The very same Creed which played as large a role in raising him as his scattered covert. Din often replays the moment when his secure values came into question. It was just weeks before he and Grogu met a certain mysterious, wickedly powerful Jedi Master and everything he thought he knew came into question. In the months following his conversation with Bo-Katan, her knowing face haunted him almost as frequently as the perspective-shifting words that she relayed.
‘...and you are a Child of The Watch...a cult of religious zealots that broke away from Mandalorian society.’
He’d definitely had some thinking to do when Grogu had finally settled into his new Jedi routine and the constant threat of danger was at bay.
Din still wears his full armor in public; it’s a reflection of his respect for the covert who saved him, raised him, founded him. He honors their commitment to him with his commitment to their Creed. However, after weeks of contemplation, he decided that Grogu, who for so long had been the most important part of his life, had earned his vulnerability. The little womp rat had already owned him, long before the helmet came off.
And now, Luke. Open, giving Luke, who has confided the deepest secrets of his life with Din and expects nothing in return. Luke, who’s never once complained about the constraints that the Creed imposes on their relationship.
Din trusts him with his life. He trusts him with his son, too, which is an even more significant statement.
Din is moving the meaty stew he’s been preparing for dinner off of the stove when Grogu’s ears perk up and he begins to coo excitedly. Din heads to the door, leaving the stew to cool on the countertop. Grogu has proven to be as effective as a doorbell whenever Luke is nearing the house.
Sure enough, Din hears the crunchy sound of Luke’s black boots trodding over sticks and stones. He swings open the door to find Luke on the other side, his hand poised to knock. If he’s startled by Din’s sudden appearance he doesn’t show it, smiling widely and visibly brightening at the sight of him.
“Were you waiting by the door for me?” Luke asks.
Din shakes his head. “Maybe I’m learning to develop my own premonitions.”
Luke snorts in laughter, his blue eyes bright with mirth. “Impressive, Djarin. You’ll be coming to train with Grogu soon enough.” He steps into the doorway next to Din and reaches between them to squeeze one of his leather-clad hands affectionately.
Luke’s presence makes Din feel as though he’s slid into a tub of welcoming water. The pleasant warmth spreads from his chest throughout his body, clouding his head with fondness. He leans down a few inches to touch the cool beskar of his helmet to Luke’s forehead in greeting. Din compensates in the ways that he can for the severe lack of kisses in their relationship.
Luke closes his eyes happily as though he’s just basking in Din’s close presence. With Luke building a Jedi Order and Din trying to raise an alien, superpowered baby, their lives are chaotic more often than not. A calm night like this one is a treasured gift. Luke lifts one of Din’s gloved hands to his mouth and kisses the worn leather of the knuckles.
Looking at Luke in the glow of the setting sun, intrusive nerves begin to resurface. For weeks, he’s been thinking about their future together. Right now, Din knows what he wants more than ever (Luke, always), just as clearly as he knows what Luke deserves (a partner who can give him the galaxy), and the vulnerability that all of this entails is overwhelming.
Now that they’re alone and unbothered by any interrupting children, Luke seems to notice the shift in Din’s emotions instantly. He opens his eyes, leaning away from the cool beskar helmet. He examines Din with open concern, trying to weasel out the problem in the carefully analytical way that he often does.
“Is everything ok?” Luke asks, allowing their joined hands to drop between them.
Din swallows reflexively and tries to think of some vague response that Luke won’t immediately call bullshit on. Thankfully, he’s saved by Grogu. The kid comes toddling up to them, babbling at Din in a strangely indignant tone as he makes his way over to Luke.
Luke grins affectionately down at Grogu, picking him up when he motions for it. He looks up after a moment of silent communication passes between them and smiles dryly at Din. “He wanted to come with you to answer the door.”
Din smirks under the helmet and scoffs. He flicks Grogu’s ear lightly and moves his hand away quickly as the kid reaches up to bat at it in retaliation. The sun is setting fast; Din motions for them to go inside. After Luke has carefully toed off his boots by the doorway, they settle around the table.
Luke and Grogu slurp down their bowls of stew with all the table manners of a farm boy and a child, respectively. The sight is a familiar one by now; Din has watched them both eat countless times. Wielding the Force must require an inordinate amount of calories, as they always both wolf down their food with sloppy enthusiasm. When Luke visits for meals, Din makes sure to eat just before he comes so that the helmet doesn’t become an issue. If Luke finds it awkward to eat while Din sits and watches, he’s never shown it.
‘All the more reason to do this for him,’ Din thinks to himself firmly as that nagging nervousness resurfaces. He has to clench his fists underneath the table to keep himself from fidgeting.
Just like before, Luke notices instantly as Din tries to fight off his doubts. His head snaps to Din, looking at him with growing concern. Despite himself, deep, unyielding affection leaks into Din’s scattered brain. Luke so clearly cares for him and the kid in a way that no one has before. He can’t help but appreciate how in tune Luke is with him.
“Is everything ok?” Luke asks slowly and deliberately, continuing to eat with a forced air about him. He’s clearly trying to keep his concern dialed down so that Grogu doesn’t pick up on it. (An unnecessary effort - Grogu is making little contented grunts as he eats, invested in devouring the chunks of meat in his soup. He probably wouldn’t notice it if a bantha burst through the door).
“Fine,” Din answers shortly. He quickly moves to change the subject. “How are the other children doing with training?”
Luke clearly doesn’t believe him - to be fair, Din put exactly no effort into thoroughly reassuring him - but either isn’t willing to pry in front of the kid or is convinced that Din is, at the very least, not on the verge of a mental breakdown. Luke has always made an effort to respect Din’s privacy, learning from the beginning weeks of Din and Grogu’s stay on Yavin how highly he values it.
“They’re taking to it better than I could’ve hoped for,” Luke answers honestly. “It’s a small group - I'm still on the lookout for new students - but they all just seem so surprised that I’m actually encouraging them to use the Force.”
Din can understand why. Grogu showed him just how far some people would go to acquire a force sensitive child. “Did they learn to hide it, like him?” Din asks, motioning towards his son.
“Only a few,” Luke explains. “Even hiding Force powers requires a low level of training. Most of them - the ones who even exhibited their abilities - were discouraged by parents.”
“How did you get by?”
“I was never trained, so my presence in the Force wasn’t very prominent. My old master hid me on Tatooine in the hopes of keeping me far away from any important Imperials.” Luke pauses to make a disdainful face, shaking his head distastefully. “I have a lot of things to thank Ben for. Choosing to bring me to Tatooine, of all places, isn’t one of them, that’s for sure.”
Din smirks under the helmet. “Would you have preferred to grow up with your sister on Alderaan, Your Highness?”
Luke rolls his eyes and snorts. He stops to consider Din’s question before shaking his head, like the whole idea is preposterous. “Leia’s the politician. I’d rather take on a Hutt any day.”
Din nods agreeably, unsurprised. Luke is always mysteriously unavailable when his sister tries to rope him into New Republic events.
Luke and Grogu finish dinner without any further incidents. Despite the easy conversation, Din knows that he’s incited Luke’s suspicion now. He’s subject to cautious, studious glances throughout the rest of the meal. It comes as a relief when Luke and Grogu excuse themselves to the small living room, where they can work on Grogu’s lessons.
Din is grateful to be left to clean up the dishes and pack away the leftovers by himself; the monotony of the simple task allows him to get his brain in order while Luke is (hopefully) occupied with Grogu. As he begins scrubbing away at the food on the bottom of his pot, he allows his mind to wander.
For weeks, Din has been contemplating the Creed in relation to Luke. The Creed was what held his old covert together; even now, despite the fact that the covert is scattered throughout the galaxy, many dead and others lost, their dedication to the Creed inexplicably unifies them. The Creed is the price that Din has paid since his childhood for a community that unconditionally supports him. His stomach churns at the idea of forsaking those who sacrificed everything for him and the child, at forsaking the very code that shaped him as a person. Din has been many things throughout his life - a son, an orphan, a Foundling, a bounty hunter, and, most constantly, a Mandalorian. Breaking the Creed for his son, one of his clan, was not an infraction. Breaking the Creed for Luke, regardless of their love and commitment to each other, would deem him unworthy to wear the Mandalorian armor that he adorned by the standards of the covert.
But as Bo-Katan proves and insists, there are many different ideas of what it means to be a Mandalorian.
And so Din is at a stalemate, as he is every time he entertains this train of thought. Growing frustrated, Din drops the bowls carelessly on a dish towel to dry. He folds his arms, leaning against the counter, and stares listlessly out into the kitchen. It’s not that Din doesn’t want to share himself, his whole self, with Luke. If Luke asked him, Din would go to the ends of the galaxy for him. But Luke would never ask Din to do anything more than love him - maybe that’s what makes him all the more deserving.
As if Din summoned him, Luke sweeps back into the kitchen, Grogu in his arms. He’s looking at Grogu as if bewildered. The kid merely looks at Din.
“Done already?” Din asks, straightening up. He’s slightly surprised. They had left for the living room less than a half hour ago.
Luke looks confused, studying the child as he responds. “Yes. Grogu performed all of his tasks for me with ease.” He looks up at Din, head tilted in curiosity, his brow slightly furrowed. “Did he practice at all before I arrived?”
Din thinks back to the afternoon. “No,” he responds, shaking his head. “He was with me, I was making dinner while he…”. Din’s eyes trail to the kid, who looks oddly smug and self-satisfied. His top row of small, pearly teeth are visible in a mischievous grin.
That little womp rat.
Grogu’s laughter at Din’s agonizing this afternoon seems more appropriate now that he considers that the kid must have planned the whole kriffing thing. Grogu, who has watched Din pace and swear and debate Luke and the Creed for weeks now. Grogu, who has the same sensitivities that Luke has to Din’s inner turmoil. Grogu, who clearly pretended that he was struggling during training, invited Luke over for dinner without asking his father first, and is now leaving Luke and Din with the night cleared for themselves now that he’s apparently finished his training for the day.
Grogu wiggles with glee, clearly pleased with himself, as Din sits with realization that he’s raising an evil genius of sorts.
Luke still looks completely bemused while Din scoops Grogu from him, clearly not having caught on.
“Yeah, well all that training must have made him tired for an early bedtime,” Din grumbled pointedly, annoyed and impressed at the kid in equal parts.
Grogu whines and protests bedtime, but with Luke to help him the kid doesn’t stand a chance. They work together to change the squirming child into night clothes and tuck him into his small bed, which is in a modest room down the hall from Din’s. Din discovers that Luke has the ability to put a baby into a deep sleep with merely a touch to the forehead and pities all of the new, sleep-deprived parents across the galaxy who do not have a Jedi for a partner.
And then it’s just the two of them.
They exit Grogu’s room and stand in the hallway outside of Din’s. Din wants to ask Luke to come in - it’s not as if Luke has never been in Din’s bedroom before, they’re still two adults who have a healthy desire for each other - but the words are stuck in his throat. Part of him knows that if he invites Luke in now, neither of them will emerge the same. Luke will finally see him for who he is and Din will be more vulnerable than he’s been since he was discovered as a shaken, newly orphaned child.
It’s not an unwelcome thought. Din’s come to realize that Luke owns him just as much as his son does.
Luke walks up to Din, stepping into his personal space. He rests one hand gently over Din’s broad shoulder so that his fingers can rub the back of his cloth-covered neck. His other hand, the one that Din knows to be cybernetic, touches under the chin of the helmet and lifts so that Din looks at Luke instead of the ground. Luke’s face is incredibly gentle as he examines Din. His eyebrows are creased ever so slightly, his golden hair mused a bit over them - a telltale sign of the concern that Luke has been demonstrating all night.
“Please, Din,” Luke implores softly. “What’s bothering you?” He runs both his hands down Din’s arms comfortingly, no doubt feeling his rising nerves. He squeezes Din’s hands reassuringly in his own, and it’s only then that Din realizes that they’re trembling ever so slightly.
Din’s never seen someone so beautiful. If he’s being honest, his mind has been made up about how Luke fits into his life since the first time he felt that wonderful warmth around him. Being here, close to him, just feels so right.
Din leads Luke by the hands into his room, softly shutting the door after them. Din flicks the light on and his room is illuminated by the yellowy, soft glow. It’s an adequate space, nothing fancy - just a large bed, a closet, a desk, and stand for his armor. It doesn’t matter; the room could have been on fire and Din would have only seen Luke.
He motions silently for Luke to sit on the bed. Luke does so without question, seeming to sense that this is important. Din stands right in front of him, steeling his nerves while Luke watches him curiously. If he were eloquent, he would have told Luke all about the soul searching that led up to this moment, about the overwhelming concoction of feelings that he has. But while Din Djarin has been many things, talkative has never been one of them, so all he manages is a ragged “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” before he reaches for his helmet and pulls it over his head.
Of all of the reactions he expected Luke to have, panic was not one of them.
Luke inhales sharply and slaps his hands over his eyes so quickly that he nearly gives himself two black eyes. Then, as if to be extra certain that he’s not seeing anything he’s not supposed to, he tilts his head down so that his face is towards the floor.
“Din! I could’ve seen you, are you crazy?!” His voice comes out an octave higher than it usually is, shrill with the stress of what he seems to consider a near disaster.
For several seconds, Din can do nothing but gape open-mouthed at his partner. Luke, for all of his training and maturity, remains frozen on the edge of the bed, his hands clamped over his eyes with the energy of someone who just walked in on someone naked. The nerves have been shocked right out of Din, replaced by disbelief. Surely Luke had been anticipating this! They’ve been committed to each other for almost a full year.
“I know,” Din responded slowly. “I took it off because I want you to see me….Did you think I forgot you were in the room?”
Luke’s head snaps from the floor to the approximate location of Din’s bare face. His hands are still firmly covering his eyes, and from the way that his face is scrunched up, Din is willing to bet that he has his eyes squeezed tightly shut as well. “You meant for me...but the Creed!”
Din sits on the bed next to Luke, holding the helmet in his lap. A small, disbelieving smile spreads across his face as he stares at his entirely serious lover. Entirely different feelings replace the nervousness that plagued Din just a minute ago.
Mirth. Joy. Above all else, love.
“I can’t believe I ever doubted doing this,” Din marvels, softly touching the corner of one of Luke’s stiff elbows. “Look at you.”
“Look at me?! Din, what - ? I - Din, your Creed means everything to you!” Luke sputters blindly, flustered.
“No, cyar’ika,” Din counters. “The Creed is important to me. But not nearly as important as to me as you.”
Luke seems to consider that, the tension melting from his stiff body. A dopey, familiar smile begins to grace his face, but Din can tell that Luke isn’t entirely convinced yet. His eyes are still firmly covered and his eyebrows furrow slightly.
“Din, are you sure? You can’t do this just for me, it’s too important. I mean, it doesn’t make any difference to me what you wear,” Luke hurries to assure him.
Din squeezes Luke’s knee reassuringly. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now. I’m sure. I still want to wear the armor in public, to honor my covert,” he says firmly, “but you’re as much a part of my family as Grogu is, clan or not.”
With that, Din wraps his hands around Luke’s narrow wrists and gently pries his hands away from his eyes. He keeps his hand held in his, resting on Luke’s lap. Luke’s eyes are so impossibly vibrant. He’s even more breathtaking without the barrier of the helmet between them.
Luke looks awestruck. Din tries to hold still as he examines him thoroughly for the first time. It’s clear that Luke is overwhelmed at first. His eyes caress Din’s slightly sweaty and ruffled hair, his dark eyes, his strong nose. Luke smiles breathlessly when he discovers his mustache and the scruff that surrounds it. He takes one of his hands out of Din’s and inches impossibly closer, reaching up between them to feel the rough, stubbly texture for himself. Din lets out a heavy breath that borders on a sob at the heavenly feeling of Luke’s warm hand on his face. He leans into it, treasuring the adoring attention. Blue eyes finally meet his own again.
Luke laughs breathlessly, looking more happy and amazed than Din has ever seen him. “Din, I - you’re so beautiful. I can’t believe how handsome you are.”
Affection sears through Din so fiercely that he feels momentarily overwhelmed. He can’t help himself anymore; he turns his face into Luke’s palm and presses a warm, loving kiss into it. Luke looks inhales softly, moving his thumb across Din’s skin in a tentative caress. Din slides his gloves off with a practiced ease, eager to feel more of Luke’s skin on his own. He cups his large, calloused hands on either side of Luke’s beautiful face, and is completely unable to keep himself from kissing him any longer.
Din doesn’t have a lot of experience at kissing, but Luke’s lips slot so perfectly under his that it’s as if they were made for each other. Luke whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the attention that they’ve probably both yearned for for so long. Like a moth drawn to the flame, Luke moves as closely as he can to Din without sitting on his lap. Din drinks him in like a man dying of thirst; he marvels at the feeling of Luke’s silky golden hair on his fingers, he breathes in the smell of him, closer than ever before. Somehow, it’s still not close enough.
Din gently maneuvers and guides so that Luke is lying down on the mattress, his hair fluffing off of his forehead. Din lies over him, a forearm bracing himself on either side of Luke’s head. His hips and legs rest firmly in between Luke’s open thighs, pressing against his warmth with delightful, insistent pressure. Luke’s mouth falls open in anticipation and pleasure as their hips slot over each other’s. Din takes a moment to take in the beauty of what lays before him. He traces the arch of Luke’s small nose, the dimple in his chin, and his fingers finally settle on his full bottom lip.
“Are you ok?” Luke whispers around his finger, reaching up to touch Din’s face with one hand.
Din nods slowly. “I just can’t believe how lucky I am.”
Luke smiles lovingly, gripping the back of Din’s neck and pulling him back down into a kiss. Din hovers over Luke, crushing his lips to his. He deepens the kiss, turning his head ever so slightly and coaxing his tongue into Luke’s mouth. Luke gasps beneath him, bucking his hips reflexively into Din’s, unable to stand the teasingly light pressure and warmth above him. The sudden, unexpected friction coaxes a low groan from Din, rattling from deep within his chest. It’s swallowed by Luke’s attentive, eager mouth. Reluctantly, Din moves back and softly presses his lips against Luke’s one, two, three more times before he breaks the kiss entirely, inciting a disappointed objection from Luke. Instead, he moves his head far back enough so that he can watch Luke’s face contort as he grinds his hips back down on the attentive, twitching cock he can feel beneath him.
Luke’s reaction is almost enough to make him cum right there; his eyes flutter shut and a breathy whimper echoes from his lips. His partner has always been vocal in bed; Din loves this about him. He could stay up for days just to coax more delicious sound from Luke. Din moves his hips exactly the same way again and again, just to hear the same noise over and over. He doesn’t stop until Luke’s cheeks have flushed bright pink, his hands gripping Din’s upper arms tightly.
“Din, please,” he shudders out after a particularly insistent thrust, “please, please…”
Din moves one of his hands up so that he can brush a strand of Luke’s hair from his face, looking down at him with lidded eyes. He moves down to kiss the corners of Luke’s pink mouth softly. “Tell me what you want, cyar'ika.”
Luke opens his eyes to stare up at Din, desire clear in every line of his face. “I want you. I want to feel you, Din, please…”.
Arousal courses through Din like fire at the pleas. He grunts in response, unable to find the right words to answer. Reluctantly, he peels himself away from Luke’s welcoming body and makes him way over to his dresser. From the top drawer he extracts a small bottle of lube, half empty from all of their previous nights together. They’ve had each other in many different ways since they entered this relationship, but Din can’t help but feel the thrill that comes with this special first.
As he turns back to the bed, eager to return quickly, he finds Luke already sitting up, pulling his shirt and pants off. Luke’s bare skin is golden tan, dyed permanently from the Tatooinian suns. His body is flecked with scars - scars that Din has mapped out dozens of times with his hands. His cock twitches as he thinks of laving over all of them with his tongue and lips, making sure that he experiences every part of Luke.
Din tosses the bottle of lube onto the bed next to his awaiting partner, resisting the urge to throw himself at Luke right there and then. After having waited so long for this day, Luke deserves so much more than an impatient, fast coupling to celebrate. He stands over Luke from the side of the bed and touches his flushed cheekbones with the gentlest pressure, merely an appreciative graze of his fingertips. Luke stills under his touch, watching him, underwear-clad on the bed.
“Mesh’la,” Din breathes quietly. He’s not sure if Luke knows the meaning of the word or if he’s just picking up on the overwhelming love that Din pours into the endearment, but he visibly softens under Din’s touch and leaves little kisses on each of his outstretched fingers. After he’s finished kissing Din’s smallest finger, he reaches up with eager fingers and tugs insistently on the armor-clad arm.
“You’re wearing entirely too many layers,” Luke insists playfully, getting to his knees on the bed so that he’s eye-level with Din. Din’s still fully dressed except for his gloves, helmet, and footwear (which he usually sheds at the front door); this is a predicament that Luke is clearly trying to resolve. He smiles and begins to clumsily tug at a heavy pauldron. “Help me out here?”
Din’s lips quirk in a small, amused grin. The latches of his armor are intricate, ensuring security; it would take ages to watch Luke fumble over them with unpracticed hands. He’s far too eager to join Luke on the bed. He gently entangles himself from Luke and begins to shed the armor piece by piece at a steady pace. Disregarding the armor stand where the beskar usually rests overnight, Din begins to form a pile on the floor - chest piece, pauldrons, arm pieces, and so on. With each soft ‘clang’ of beskar hitting the floor, he becomes more exposed under Luke’s watchful, hungry eyes. At last, he stands before his partner for the first time looking for all the galaxy like any other man, clad only in a black, cotton shirt and tan pants. He steps within Luke’s reach again and kisses him softly on the lips.
“Finally,” Luke breathes against his lips as the kiss breaks, his eyes half-lidded. Din snorts quietly; it seems that even Luke’s Jedi training hasn’t eliminated the most deeply rooted aspects of his excitable, impatient nature. Sure enough, it’s not long at all before Luke is insistently tugging Din’s shirt up, an eager reflection of the growing tent in his underwear. Din allows the shirt to be brought up and over his head, discarded on the ground with the rest of his armor. Luke’s eyes travel appreciatively across his broad chest, smiling absent-mindedly as he indulges. Din shivers as he runs his hands down the sides of his torso, stopping only to hook in the waistband of his pants. With an encouraging nod from Din, he pulls them down to reveal the stiff outline of his cock, pressing up against his underwear.
“God, Din,” Luke sighs out, running the back of his hand lightly across Din’s navel, along the waistband of his underwear. His stomach warms in anticipation.
Din climbs on the bed, pushing Luke gently down on the pillows so that he lays comfortably beneath him. Before he can move too far away, Luke is leaning up with expectant lips to initiate a deep kiss; Din allows himself to be pulled in for a few moments before breaking away. He could kiss Luke uninterrupted for hours, but he has other plans for tonight. He kisses down from his partner’s plush lips, sucking and kissing indulgently over the neck before him. Luke moans appreciatively as Din finds a sweet spot right below his ear. He zeros in on that spot, sucking on it and laving over it, his stubble ravaging the surrounding area. Din delights in the euphonious noises that sprout from Luke’s parted lips. As much pleasure as he’s given Luke during their past sexual escapades, he can’t deny how much of an advantage it is to have his mouth available.
When Luke is rutting up against him, desperately seeking more, Din trails down from his freshly marked neck to the waistband of his underwear. He plants a firm, open mouthed kiss right above the band before tugging the underwear down and throwing them to the floor.
“Din,” Luke says shakily, tugging lightly on his hair to get his attention. Reluctantly, Din looks away from the perfect, flushed, pink member in front of him and up at his lover. Luke runs shaky fingers through his hair, looking down at him with desperate eyes. “I want you to feel good too.”
Ah - a misplaced sense of guilt, stemming from the overwhelming attention that he’s receiving. Not surprising, considering that Luke’s dedicated far too much of his life to being a tool, a weapon, for others to use; his needs have so rarely been considered first.
Din presses a warm kiss to Luke’s inner thigh, enjoying the way that he jolts beneath him. “I’ve never felt better,” he replies firmly, looking at Luke with sincerity that he hopes is effectively communicated. He maintains eye contact as he wraps his lips around the stiff cock, eager to watch Luke fall apart beneath him.
Din can’t decide what his favorite part of the next few minutes is. Maybe it’s the intoxicating taste of Luke that sits on his tongue, his cock sliding in and out of his mouth slickly. Maybe it's the way that Luke’s entire expression seems to crumple before his eyes, his gasping mouth falling open and his eyes squeezing shut, pleasure carving lines into his face. Din’s never been able to reciprocate this for Luke before. If he’s even half as good at it as Luke is, he can rest assured that Luke is feeling the deep, unyielding pleasure that he deserves. Most likely, his favorite part is the absolutely sinful noises that have him rock hard. Each time Din pushes his tongue against just the right spot beneath the head of the cock, Luke whimpers, high-pitched and broken. His hips buck needily, settling gratefully as Din develops a more steady rhythm.
“Din, oh my god, I - Din!” Luke babbles above him, overwhelmed. He seems unable to find somewhere for his hands, finally deciding to clench them tightly into fists, twisting the sheets below him.
Din hums around his mouthful, arousal tightening in his stomach. The experience of having Luke fall apart under his lips is even better than he’d imagined it would be. Luke lays beneath him, quaking, reduced to a whimpering mess because of his careful ministrations. Din tongues firmly at that special spot again, just to listen to Luke moan out his approval. Reaching down and palming himself with one hand through his underwear, Din groans with pure pleasure. He detaches his lips with a soft ‘pop’ for a quick second, encouraging Luke in a gravelly voice.
“Come on, mesh’la. I’ve got you, don’t hold back.”
He swirls his tongue around the head of Luke’s cock, doubling down on his efforts now that he’s sure that his partner is enjoying himself. He experiments with how far down he can go. Reaching very near the base of Luke’s cock, he hallows out his cheeks and firmly sucks around the length. With a wild gasp and a high, keening moan, Luke quickly grasps at his hair. Din throbs through his underwear and he has to force his hand away before he ruins them. Luke babbles pleas and whines out his name above him.
"Din, Din, I’m so close. It’s right there.” Luke pleads above him, his beautiful face tightening from the need to reach his peak.
With rising determination, he goes back to bobbing, steadily increasing his speed. It’s not long before he can tell that Luke is right at the edge. As soon as he fondles his balls, Luke finishes with a long, drawn-out moan. Din’s mouth fills with the essence of his lover; he swallows all of it gladly. Drawing him out of his mouth, he licks at Luke’s spent member, helping him all the way through his climax, until he begins to hear overstimulated whimpers above him.
Traveling back over Luke’s pliant body, Din trails warm kisses all over his face. He’s happy to see that Luke looks completely blissed out, breathing deeply beneath him. His lips tug into a warm smile and breathless laughter pours out of his mouth.
“For someone who’s been helmet-bound for his whole life, you sure do have a natural talent for that,” Luke laughs breathily, looking lovingly into Din’s dark, quietly amused eyes.
Din shrugs, smug despite himself. “We’ll have to discover what else my mouth can do,” he says, pressing more kisses into the side of Luke’s face.
Luke smiles, shoving him back just enough to look him in the eyes. Din grows slightly wary of the mischievous edge lurking in his smile. “As lovely as that sounds, I have other business to attend to right now.”
Before Din can ask, Luke hooks his leg around his waist and flips them. Din is flat on his back, Luke settling in next to him, laying on his side so that he’s halfway on Din’s chest. Then, he’s procuring the lube that he threw on the bed before, rubbing a generous amount into hand, and reaching under his underwear to firmly grip his waiting cock.
Din groans embarrassingly loudly at the sudden pleasure. His arousal has been somewhat easy to ignore so far; giving Luke anything less than his full attention would have been a travesty. Now that Luke’s hand is firmly stroking him, slick with lube and his own arousal, the need for release is ever present. He grunts, fucking shamelessly into Luke’s grip.
Luke strokes the muscles of his upper arm with the hand that isn’t busy. “Shhh,” he says comfortingly, kissing over Din’s stubble, over his neck, over his chest and shoulders. “Just let me take care of you.”
His hand speeds up, twisting up and down Din’s length. This, paired with the loving reassurances, proves to be too much - or just enough. Din erupts with a heavy groan, spilling all over Luke’s hand, ruining the underwear.
He comes down slowly, Luke working him all the way through it. When he can breathe easy again, he kicks off the ruined boxers and gathers Luke in his arms. He draws the blankets over them and settles against the pillows. They’re both out of breath, spent from a night of excitement. It’s late enough now that Din is willing to bet that they’ll both be asleep within minutes. Luke seems to agree; with a lazy gesture, the lights go out and the room fills with darkness. Seemingly unable to let them both rest without giving Din heart palpitations, Luke places warm, wet kisses all around his jaw. Finally, he settles, resting his head against Din’s broad chest.
“Thank you,” Luke speaks sincerely, “for everything. I love you so much, Din.”
Din tilts his head, kissing the top of Luke’s golden hair and squeezing him impossibly tighter. “I love you, always.” He dozes off for the night with Luke’s comforting weight settled next to him, feeling impossibly content with the life he’s forged.