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Stick With Me (From Galaxy to Galaxy)

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1

 

Din was distracted by Luke's hands. 

 

It wasn't something he often thought about- he had enough on his plate between repairing yet another leak in the roof, clearing the scrap from the hangar, and building another nightstand, after what Luke had said was an accident. 

 

But there were times that he couldn't do anything but think about it. Like now, when his armor was covered in sawdust, his helmet the only thing keeping him from breathing it all in as he sanded down a leg until there was no way it would ever cause a splinter. As his own hands moved over the leg, back and forth with the grain of the wood, the warm, familiar scent of jungle wood in the air, his mind drifted to Luke's hands. 

 

How they looked, fingers long and tanned, the left dotted with freckles and callouses and scars he hadn't been able to ask about yet, the right smooth and unblemished, synth skin stretched taut over dark metal. He remembered intimately the way they looked around the hilt of his lightsaber, fingers curled, glove black against gleaming silver as he'd stepped onto the bridge and changed the entire course of his life. He remembers the first time those hands had touched him, catching him after a particularly rough bounty, fingers digging into his biceps, golden skin against the muted brown of his kute.

 

How Luke's hands looked holding his child, allowing Grogu to chew on the black leather of his glove as if he didn't care there would be a thousand holes if he didnt stop him now. How-

 

Shaking himself, he breathes in slowly, filling his lungs until his chest aches and then letting it out, following the steady breath with a firm sweep down the length of the leg. It's looking good, honestly, almost as smooth as he wants it, and he pauses for a moment, slipping his gloves off to run gentle fingers over the surface. The small touch is enough to make his fingers jump, unused to the sensation, but he pushes past the initial overreaction, brushing across the surface to try and find anything wrong.

 

He tries, but this is the sixth nightstand he's made for Luke, and he can honestly do it in his sleep, if he tries hard enough. All the other pieces have been sanded down already, dusted off and set to the side, and he looks at the pieces, smiling to himself at the much more uniform shape of all the legs, the drawer and the cabinet door and the back piece. His first nightstand had been a mess, wobbly on its legs, door a little bit crooked, but Luke had refused to let him burn or destroy it. 

 

But then he'd found Luke in the courtyard, close to the river where they threw most of their bonfires, standing over the burned remains of the nightstand. Luke had been quick to explain with dead eyes and a flat voice that he had nightmares, and for some reason, the nightstand was what he chose to crush in his sleep. Din had only shrugged and awkwardly told him it would give him a chance to make it better next time, and that had brought the phantom of a smile to Luke's face.

 

He sets the piece off to the side, intending to get up and find a cloth to wipe the sawdust away, and freezes when he finds Luke in the doorway, eyes bright and bare arms crossed against his chest. The sight makes his mouth go dry, as it always seems to, and he clears his throat awkwardly. "It's almost done."

 

"You're too good to me. You should really stop supplying my bad habits." Luke's mouth tugs up into a smile, small and teasing, and the sight pulls a quiet huff from his chest.

 

"If I stop building the nightstands, you'll move onto bed frames." 

 

"Ah, saving yourself some time I see."

 

"And material." He deadpans, straightening up as Luke laughs and shakes his head. Luke steps into the full light of the outside, sun catching in his hair, making the blue of his eyes go almost clear, and highlighting the smudges of dirt all over him. Arching a brow despite knowing Luke can't see, he tips his head. "Why are you covered in dirt?"

 

"Grogu thought it would be fun to fish in the river."

 

"... So you're covered in dirt.”

 

“You can’t fish if you don’t have bait.” Luke points out, grin bright and easy, even with dirt caked along the ridge of his nose and across his cheekbones and even edging dangerously close to his hair. “Granted, Grogu was more interested in eating the bait once I dug it up, and we never actually went fishing-”

 

Luke cuts off with a sharp inhale of breath, eyelashes fluttering, burnished gold against his cheeks as Din’s bare thumb smooths over a spot of dirt. He’s not quite aware of what he’s doing: Luke’s face is dirty, and his hands are free, and Luke’s skin is so warm and- 

 

“Sorry.” Din mutters, moving to pull back, to stop crowding Luke in the doorway, to stop touching him. “You just-”

 

Luke’s hand comes up, gentle fingers encircling his wrist, tan against the dark expanse of the fabric covering his arms. His heart picks up at the sight, just slight enough to make him want to shudder, and then Luke’s thumb is sweeping over his inner wrist, soft and careful, idle, like how he worries away at the hilt of his saber when he’s stuck on a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. 

 

Luke leans his head into Din’s hand, presses until Din’s fingers are splayed along the side of his head, brushing against his hair and curling over the shell of his ear, palm flat to his cheek. Luke leans the weight of his head into his hand, and Din’s palm burns with so much contact. He can feel his fingers trembling, a fine shake that he knows Luke can feel from how close they are. Din pulls his hand back, just for an instant, and hastily returns it when Luke looks at him through his lashes, soft and vulnerable.

 

He sweeps his thumb over a patch of dirt, gently rubbing it away, and bites back a noise when Luke shifts under his hand. “Can I- touch?”

 

“You already are,” Luke teases, lips curving in a smile, cheek muscles bunching slightly under his palm. His expression softens, going more sincere, and he turns briefly to nuzzle into Din's palm, sparks lighting down his arm. "Of course you can, Din."

 

He means to say something- thank you, maybe, or I'm grateful you've let me in , but the words stick in his throat, as they always do when he thinks about the compliments he wants to rain down but is unable to properly word. He tries to force words past his lips, but the only thing that gets him is a strangled noise low in his throat. Slowly, he brings his other hand up, framing Luke's face in his palms, feeling the warmth of his skin. He holds him for a moment, Luke's cheeks twitching underneath his hands as he fights a smile, fails, schools his expression, and then smiles once more. 

 

He pulls back after a moment, once his palms have begun to sweat and Luke's cheeks are flushed. From the heat of his hands or the intimacy of this moment, he can't tell. He traces over Luke's jaw with trembling fingers, sparks shooting through the pads of his fingers as he takes in the hint of a five o clock shadow, the faintest texture of facial hair, if Luke were ever to let it grow.

 

"Can you- grow a beard?"

 

Luke's eyes don't open, but his breath is warm over Din's fingertips as he talks, disrupting the way Din was tracing over his cupid's bow. "I've never tried."

 

They fall silent again as Din runs his thumb down the slope of Luke's nose, dislodging dirt and watching it fall onto his cheeks, swept away by careful fingers. He gets Luke's nose mostly clear, fingers steadier now that the aching softness of his skin isn’t quite so overwhelming, and when he looks down, Luke is watching him, eyes as warm as Tatooine during the high season. The look burns through him, and suddenly he’s aware of their position, Luke’s head tilted in his hands, his bare hands. “What?”

 

“Your hands smell like sawdust.” Luke’s eyes twinkle, a smile stretching his lips, moving his cheeks under Din’s fingertips. “Sure you don’t want to make a bed frame instead?”

 

Din dips their foreheads together instead of answering. 

 

--

 

2

 

“I’ve never- done this.” 

 

The admittance isn’t quite acid in his veins, but the nervous anxiety curling his gut makes it burn at the back of his throat nonetheless. Luke pauses from where he’s unbuttoning that ridiculously high collar of his, the pale swep of his neck tensing as he turns his head toward Din. He turns, but Din knows he’s only following the sound of his voice- his eyes are covered by a dark purple cloth, some old scarf that Luke had found in the bottom of his closet. 

 

“Done what?”

 

This . Sex.” Abruptly, he knows he’s making this worse than he means, and he grits his teeth. “No, no I have just-”

 

“Not like this?” Luke offers, lips quirking in a small smile that shines so bright with understanding that Din’s eyes go misty. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.” 

 

“I want to.” He protests, frowning. Maybe it’s the air on his face, the gentle breeze that rustles through his hair that’s throwing him off so much. “I just- don’t want to disappoint you.” 

 

Luke’s shoulders go soft at that, curving in slightly, and Luke’s hands leave his shirt entirely as he reaches out, fingertips bumping blindly over Din’s chestplate before Luke’s palms slide against beskar, finding the soft space on his shoulders, and then the curve of his neck. His stomach flops at the touches, something warm and pleasant sparking, and he draws in a sharp, shuddering breath. 

 

“You could never disappoint me, Din.”

 

“But you-”

 

“I like when you touch me.” Luke murmurs, going up on his toes to brush his lips over the scruffy edge of his jaw. “And I like when you kiss me.”

 

“Even if I’m not good at it?”

 

“You’re perfectly fine,” Luke protests softly, moving to tap their foreheads together, pressing lightly. “See?”

 

He huffs a laugh, leaning into Luke’s space. “That’s not what you meant.”

 

“It is what I meant.” Luke murmurs, the sincerity punching Din in the chest like a blaster shot. “We go at your pace, Din.”

 

“What if-”

 

“Din,” Luke softly admonishes, leaning a bit harder into the Keldabe kiss. “I know I can be impatient, but not here. Never here.” 

 

Something loosens in Din’s chest, and when Luke hums quietly, melting into the soft brush of their lips when Din tilts his head, it falls away completely. Luke is warm against him, even with all of his beskar on, and eventually, reluctantly, he pulls back, sucking in a breath and brushing his nose against the apple of Luke’s cheek distractedly. 

 

“Get undressed.” 

 

Luke pauses for a moment, as if waiting for another command, and then steps away, doing as he’s told. His fingers work the buttons open with practiced ease, lower and lower on his chest, revealing more and more. He wears a tank top underneath the shirt, black like the rest, and Din is struck by the sight of him. He watches as Luke tugs his shirt out of his pants, shrugging it down off his shoulders, dark fabric sweeping along his biceps as he tugs it down and off the rest of the way. 

 

His mouth goes dry at the skin that Luke reveals for him, inch after surprisingly tan inch, and he finds himself fumbling to get his armor off. Fumbling , like he’s some head strong teenager thinking only with his cock and not his brain. A brain which seems to short when Luke tugs his undershirt up and off, lingering for a moment before his fingers pop the button of his pants. He breath catches, hands stopping with a pauldron half off, and Luke’s head cocks to the side. 

 

“Is this okay?”

 

“Yes.” He rasps, swallowing hard and darting his tongue over his lips. “All of it?”

 

All all?”

 

“Please.” He murmurs, like Luke would ever deny him.

 

Luke only hums, tracing the hem of his pants with his fingers before he slowly inches them down. “How is the armor coming?” 

 

Luke’s tone is light, conversational, but Din feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, crumbs all over his face, and he whirls on his heel, putting his back to Luke to finish hastily stripping himself down. The air in the room is balmy, warm with the wet season on Yavin, and Din is grateful they’re somewhere temperate. No scorching, miserable heat like Tatooine, and no awful, mind numbing cold like Maldo Kreis, only fragrant breezes and humid heat. 

 

Once he’s bare completely, toes curling against the shag rug that Luke insists he has in his room, does he dare to turn and glance at Luke. He knows if Luke could he’d be staring right back, and where his mouth was dry before, suddenly he has to swallow, fearing he’ll drool at the sight before him. He rakes his eyes over Luke, drinking in the sight of him in the low evening sun still warming the room, the shadows it casts along the muscles of Luke’s chest, the soft plane of his stomach, toned but still pudgy at his hips, as if not even a hardy Rebellion diet and years of Jedi training could drive that away. 

 

“You’re beautiful.” He breathes before he can think better of it, and this time instead of him blushing, he gets to see Luke’s cheeks go pink, the color creeping down his neck the longer he stands there. 

 

Din tries to put him out of his misery, coming close enough to smooth hands gently along his ribs. Luke twitches, as if he didn’t sense him coming, and Din fails to bite back a small groan at how warm Luke is under his hands. He knew, or at least assumed that Jedi ran hot, but this- It’s like Luke makes all his own heat, glowing from within and never cold. “The bed, love?” 

 

“Mh.” His noise is noncommittal, completely distant as he dips his head and drags his lips over the slope of Luke’s shoulder, shivering as Luke gasps. Finally he agrees, only after dragging his lips back up to brush over a spot on Luke’s neck he’s been aching to taste. “Bed.” 

 

Somehow in the daze of all that tanned skin, warm and flush under his hands, Luke manages to corral the both of them into bed. The brush of sheets against his skin makes him gasp unintentionally, and Luke eases him onto his back, laying close but not flush to him as he twitches at the touches. 

 

“Okay?” 

 

“Mhm. Just- not used to it.” 

 

Luke hums quietly, keeping his distance, and eventually, he can’t take it anymore, can feel the feverish heat of Luke’s skin, wants it on him. “C’mere.”

 

Luke sidles up against him immediately, up on one elbow, resting in the curve of his left arm while the rest of him lines up with Din. Chest to ribs, groin to hips, thighs to thighs. Heat flashes through him immediately as his nerves flare, and he groans quietly, whole body jerking when Luke’s hand gently lands on his stomach. 

 

“Sorry,” Luke murmurs, and Din can feel how Luke’s fingers tremble against the softness of his stomach. “Is this okay?”

 

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

 

“Can I explore?” He nods, but after a moment of Luke waiting for a response, small smile on his face, he sighs.

 

“Yes, sorry.” 

 

Luke dips to kiss his cheek so tenderly that Din has to clench his jaw against the sudden wild urge to say something stupidly sappy. Luke’s forehead bumps against his temple, resting there, and Din wonders for a moment if Luke is just as overwhelmed by this as he is. Luke’s breath blows warm over his face, distracting him, and he isn’t prepared for Luke’s hand sliding up his stomach, tracing over a long scar on his ribs. The feeling of sensitive skin versus deadened scar tissue is an odd contrast, and he groans quietly. 

 

“Okay?”

 

“Mhm.” 

 

Luke kisses his cheekbone distractedly, and slowly begins to explore. He traces the edges of each scar, mapping out their shape, their look with his fingertips, reverent and gentle. Somehow, despite having his eyes closed, one of his senses cut off completely, Luke manages to find every one, moving with careful, deliberate intention to brush over each scar, tracing its contours. He ends up focusing on a blaster shot on his shoulder, breath hitching at the way Din presses up into it, whining softly. He can feel the question on Luke’s tongue, but he doesn’t want words right now, he wants touch , he wants Luke to burn trails into his skin, and he gasps, low and throaty when Luke suddenly rubs a slow, teasing circle over his nipple. 

 

He’s sure that he gasps Luke’s name, is sure he makes some kind of noise- his skin is on fire, each touch too much and not enough and just right , and when Luke moves, breath ghosting down and down and down, until warm lips and a hot tongue lap lightly at his nipple, he’s sure he calls for Luke. His throat aches with the sudden noise, but not nearly as much as the tight coil in his stomach does, whole body twitching, back lifting slightly off the bed to chase the wet warmth of Luke’s tongue.

 

“I’m not going far.” Luke promises, hand smoothing over his hip, urging him back into the bed. “Will it be too much if I straddle you?” 

 

"Depends on where." He manages to choke out, shuddering when Luke's hand disappears, only to reappear on his thigh. Fingertips drag slowly up the length of his leg, slipping a bit to pet at his inner thigh, soft and gentle. He finds his legs parting without conscious thought, wanting to give Luke more room to explore, to touch.

 

Luke's breath hitches suddenly, as if he can hear the shuffling of the sheets, and heat flares along Din's cheeks. He goes to apologize, to tuck his legs back together, but Luke runs gentle knuckles along his other thigh, nudging his legs a little further apart. 

 

"Is this okay?"

 

"I told you I'd tell you if it wasn't," it sounds harsher than he means, but Luke only huffs a laugh, petting at his thighs for a minute or two more before he smooths a hand down to Din's knee and tucks his legs back together. It's- not what he was expecting, and he cracks an eye open, peering at Luke. "No?"

 

"Got something else in mind," is all Luke says, lips quirking when Din huffs and flops his head back onto the pillow. Luke hesitates for a second, fingers pressing into his thigh, and then Luke is swinging up, his weight settling on Din's thighs, knees bumping his hips. The pressure of having Luke's weight on him, pressed skin to skin is intoxicating, and he can't seem to stop the small whine that builds in the back of his throat. Luke's hands smooth over his hips, thumbs finding and tracing the line of bone, curling over the small jut, and he sucks in a breath as his cock twitches. "Still okay?"

 

"You're heavy." He mutters, brain foggy with how warm Luke is, how nice his hands feel, splaying against his stomach. He wants to pull Luke closer, to seat him properly in his lap and touch him, but Luke laughs, murmuring some joke about his weight as his mouth, warm, wet, wonderful presses along a scar on his abdomen. Fire heats over his skin, burning wherever they touch, and he's almost deliriously hard, aching and trying not to beg.

 

It makes him twitch, arms, legs, shoulders, again when Luke's tongue darts out to trace along the edge of sensitive skin and scar. Luke leaves a wet, lingering kiss on the scar, almost as if sad to pull away, and moves on, giving other scars the same quick, wet treatment. He isn't sure why or how it's able to rile him so much, but he thinks it has to be because it's Luke, because even without sight, without the ability to take him all in, Luke is doing his damned best to make sure he knows what Din feels like.

 

Maybe the thought of someone knowing him, him not the Mandalorian in beskar but him , Din Djarin, is what's so intoxicating, what makes his voice break on a sudden cry when Luke pulls back and blows across his skin. All of where Luke's mouth was, wet or semi dry sparks with the sudden coolness of his breath, and goosebumps break out over his skin, stomach tightening and toes curling as his hips jump. 

 

"Like that, Din?"

 

Din can't find the right words to answer, so he only moans, gingerly touching Luke's knees with trembling fingers. Luke hums, scooting a bit further up his thighs, and Din's grip slides up with it, fingers digging into Luke’s skin as Luke's lips find his neck. 

 

"How do you feel?" Luke's lips brush over his neck as he talks, fluttering and light, and it would almost tickle if Luke's breath weren't so warm, if his hands weren't tracing up over his chest, brushing over his nipples with idle fingers. As it is, Luke's lips, combined with the faint scratch of a couple days of stubble- courtesy of Luke getting too curious about his own ability to grow a beard to shave, is thoroughly distracting. 

 

"Overwhelmed," He admits, only a little ashamed of the fact that he can't seem to control himself when Luke touches him. After a minute of contemplation, of Luke circling and circling and circling his nipples until he feels like he's a shaking, melty puddle of lust, he whispers, "Close."

 

"How close?" 

 

Luke's voice, Gods his voice is almost worse than his hands, and in a spur of inspiration, maybe desperation, his own find Luke's hips, drag him forward and down until he's pressing insistently against Luke's hip bone, hot and hard. Both of them groan at the movement, and Din can feel Luke , just as hard, just as eager, and it isn't really too hard to find a rhythm, a movement that has Luke shifting until their cocks can slide together, wet and blissfully sensitive.

 

Luke gasps above him at the movement, sitting forward a little to change the angle, and this time when he rolls his hips forward, thighs tensing with the movement, it catches Din by surprise how close he really is. Reaching up with one hand, he manages to get a fistful of silky smooth hair, twisting the strands in his fingers as his other hand grabs at Luke's hip, digging into the soft pudge there until he's sure he'll leave bruises. 

 

"M'not gonna last." 

 

"Don't need to." Luke replies, out of breath and shaky when Din's hips lift to meet his next roll. "I won't either- fuck , Din."

 

"You didn't want to…" His eyes open, staring at the flush of Luke's cheeks, the contrast of purple against his skin, the reddened head of Luke's cock, grinding against him and leaving his skin tacky. 

 

Luke shakes his head in answer, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, and Din drags him down to kiss him, pressing their lips together in a fumbling, nervous kind of way. Luke's hands, still on his chest, shake for a moment before his fingers dig in, curling as he moans into the press of their lips, easing the intensity and guiding him with soft little licks and nips, teasing him into responding, messy and not nearly as refined. Luke doesn't seem to mind at all, hips speeding up incrementally when they pull back for a moment to breathe, resting forehead to forehead. Din aches suddenly to see blue eyes looking back at him, clouded with lust and want and maybe even love, if this fragile thing blooming between them is what he hopes-

 

Luke's hands move a bit, one planting beside Din's head, the other on his chest, thumb pressing against his nipple, and that's all it takes: Luke's hands on him, arm boxing him in, and Luke's hips moving against him for him to come with a punched out groan, thighs shaking and fingers tightening, digging into Luke's hip and hair as he drags him for another kiss. He muffles his moans, his desperate murmurs of Luke's name against Luke's mouth, and tastes the moment that Luke chases after him, keening into his mouth with fervent abandon as his hips grind, once twice, spilling come across his belly, marking him better than any of the scars he's ever collected. 

 

Luke is slow to move after that; slow to pull away as he shakes with nerves, jumping at any touch. Luke doesn't tease him for his sensitivity, especially not after what they just did, he only resumes his post plastered to Din's side, smearing his fingers through the mess on Din's stomach and humming when Din whines. 

 

"Was that what you wanted?"

 

"Was that what you wanted?" He retorts, turning to nuzzle at the slope of Luke's shoulder and neck, smiling when Luke’s fingers pause in their work of spreading their mess all over his belly. 

 

“Mh, I’d like to open you up, but…”

 

Groaning, he buries his face in Luke’s hair, huffing a breath. “But?”

 

“Exactly.” Luke agrees, a shit eating grin spreading over his face when Din groans and half heartedly rolls away from him. Luke draws him back with soft kisses against his back, trailing over his shoulder and down his chest once he comes back, settling down again. “You said you were overwhelmed.” 

 

“I was.”

 

“So we’ll take it slow.” 

 

“What if I don’t want it slow?” He asks, heart kicking up when Luke shrugs and kisses his shoulder again. 

 

“Then we can take it faster. The pace is up to you, Din.” 

 

The thought is a comforting one, and once Luke’s fingers still, once he’s gone sticky instead of wet, Luke gets a washcloth to clean the two of them up, and then tucks them into bed, blindfold firmly in place.

 

--

 

3

 

He broaches the subject one night once Grogu is in bed, sleeping soundly, Luke sitting on the kitchen counter while Din finishes up the dishes. It had become a routine- Luke puts Grogu to bed while Din does dishes at night, and in the morning, Luke makes breakfast while Din gets Grogu ready for the day, after their meditation. 

 

“If I- took off my helmet, would that make you uncomfortable?” 

 

Luke doesn’t look up from the holopad in his hand, eyes skimming the screen while his lips tilt in a smile. “You already take it off.”

 

“I know,” He rinses off the last dish, drying it and rolling his eyes when it floats out of his hand and back toward the cupboard. “But what if you didn’t have the blindfold?”

 

The plate goes crashing to the floor, shattering in a thousand pieces of warm brown clay, and Din’s attention is pulled to the floor while Luke stares, wide eyed. Din moves to get the broom, sweeping the pieces up into the dustpan and disposing of them in the trash. He’s still got his back to Luke, dustpan in hand when he feels pressure wrap around him, like invisible hands on his hips. It guides him, turns him around and tugs him until he’s walking back slowly over to Luke, who’s still wide eyed on the counter. 

 

Somewhere along the way he drops the dustpan, but it doesn’t seem to matter much when those invisible hands disappear and Luke’s real hands, warm and firm and familiar grab at his hips, pulling him close. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

 

“What do you think I’m asking?” His heart leaps into his throat, and even though there’s no way Luke could possibly think he’s asking anything else, part of him, the part that isn’t screaming, wants to tease him.

 

“I think,” Luke murmurs, hands sliding up his sides, over the soft fabric of Luke’s shirt- Luke’s , because he still hasn’t bothered to get more clothes, and despite the height he has on Luke, Luke’s shirts pretty much fit him, even if the shoulders are a little tight. “You were asking if you could take the helmet off around me.” 

 

“I already do.” And now he’s actually teasing, the modulator all but flattening out the tone, though Luke huffs a small laugh. Luke traces the seam running up his side with hesitant fingers, picking at a loose thread as his eyes dart down, away from his helmet, like any moment he could look up and it would be gone. “Would that be okay?”

 

Luke laughs, incredulous. He looks up, eyes locking on his, and he feels abruptly laid bare, like Luke can already see him. “Din, it’s your Creed, not mine. I told you I’d be happy, no matter what.” 

 

“Would you be happier if I took it off?”

 

The question is a loaded one, like handing Luke a live grenade and asking him to disarm it, but Luke tilts his head, thoughtful. Like it’s a puzzle he’s already figured out. “It wouldn’t make me happier . But it would make me happy in a different way,” He confesses, cheeks flushing lightly. “I’d like to see your eyes.”

 

“Close your eyes.” 

 

He decides, then and there, with no one but his son and his lover around, that the Creed, whatever it might mean to others, means this to him. Luke is his clan, a part of his family no matter the distance or time spent apart, and marriage or no marriage, special circumstance or no, Luke deserves to see him. To recognise him, to think about him as something other than a suit of armor. 

 

“You’re the love of my life,” Luke whispers softly, as if hearing his thoughts, and Din’s chest warms as Luke’s eyes slip shut. “Armor or no, I know you in my heart.” 

 

He doesn't give himself another moment to think, to hesitate, reaching up with shaking hands to release the seal, to pull it up and off his head, holding it between them almost like a shield. Luke shivers, as if overcome, and one hand comes up, fingers bumping over the helmet pressed between them. “You can open your eyes.” 

 

“Don’t want to fix the helmet hair?” 

 

“No, cyar’ika . I want you to see me as I am.” 

 

Luke’s breath hitches on something that sounds suspiciously like a sob, and then Din watches the way that Luke’s lashes flutter, gold against his cheekbones, and then he’s hit with the full effect of Luke’s eyes. He knew his eyes were blue, could recognise it through the visor, but he didn’t- he didn’t expect them to be that blue. Amazingly, it’s the only thing he can think to say, and he blurts it out at the same time that Luke talks. 

 

“Your eyes are so blue -”

 

“Your eyes are brown?” 

 

They pause, stunned, before both of them laugh, Luke’s eyes crinkling at the corners, and oh, Din was a fool not to do this earlier. He tilts forward before he can help himself, pressing a kiss to those little wrinkles, pulling back and scrunching his nose when Luke’s eyelashes tickle against his lip. 

 

“Didn’t I tell you?”

 

“No. I thought it would be rude to ask.” Luke murmurs, hand twitching on his helmet, fingers drumming once before he stops his fidgeting. “I like your nose.” 

 

“My nose?”

 

“Mhm.” Luke scoots forward a little, stretching that last little bit to place a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose. Sparks, warm yet cold, break out over his skin, and he can feel the little hairs on the back of his neck raise as he shivers. “Too much?”

 

“No.” 

 

“Could I-”

 

“Please do.” 

 

Luke grins, bright and eager, and his hands come up, gently cupping his neck for a moment, as if he's worried his fingers are cold. The fingers on his right hand are a little bit, he'll admit that, but that isn't why he shivers when Luke's fingers slide up his neck, gently smoothing over the scruff on his jaw. He shivers because each touch, each singing press of Luke's fingers makes his toes curl, makes his chest screw tighter and tighter. Anxiety curls in his belly at eyes roaming over his face, taking him in, memorizing him, but Luke's eyes are soft, so full of love that he thinks the ocean is an apt comparison for the depth and color of his eyes. There are always new layers, new things he’s finding, and this tidal wave of love, it sweeps him away, draws him in like a riptide.

 

The anxiety, the nerves clenching at his stomach lessen a little bit the longer that Luke explores, right hand brushing over his cheekbone, gently smoothing the wrinkle at the corner of his eye, tickling over the silver hairs at his temple. His left hand cups his cheek, holding him steady, giving him a firm, grounding touch to think about when the soft slide of Luke's fingers suddenly becomes too much . Din knows Luke can feel his discomfort, just like he can feel any other strong emotions, and he hopes, he hopes Luke can sense how much he wants this.

 

How right it feels when Luke draws him in, following the patch of his fingers with his lips, painfully soft against his skin. Luke places kisses on the apples of his cheeks, the line of his jaw, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids, his forehead, his temple- anywhere he can reach, really, save for the cheek he's still cupping. 

 

"You have the face of a father." Luke says suddenly, Din barking a laugh and pressing his lips together to muffle the sound, careful not to wake the kid. "What?" Luke protests, eyes twinkling with mirth, and oh he's pretty- "you have kind eyes and a strong jaw and a mustache …"

 

Din notes the way Luke's voice goes dreamy, and he leans forward, kissing Luke's neck, letting his mustache tickle, curling his lip just a bit to get Luke to squirm and laugh breathlessly. "You like it?"

 

"Makes your mouth look pretty." 

 

"There are other things that make my mouth look pretty." He says before his brain can catch up with the rest of him, and if he thinks his cheeks are bad, the way that Luke's whole face flushes, down his neck and probably over his chest, if Din knows him, is so much worse. Still, he doesn't take the words back, and he notices the way that Luke tries to angle his hips back, notices the whine that catches in Luke's throat when he catches his hips and tugs him forward, thumbs digging into the crease of thigh and hip. "Loth cat got your tongue?"

 

Luke blinks, as if trying to shake himself, but Din knows what he's doing- at least this part, and he flicks his tongue out to wet his lips, watching the way that Luke watches him .

 

"You- I- you-"

 

"You can say no."

 

"No! No, I-" Luke clears his throat, going redder, and he ducks his head, suddenly bashful. "Don't want to push you."

 

"Luke?" Luke makes a noise, acknowledging him, and he lifts a hand from Luke's hip to tip his head, until blue meets brown, and Din loses himself a little in Luke's eyes. "I want to- taste you. You… I like it when you do it to me, and I want…"

 

"Have you ever done it?"

 

"No. It wasn't- with the helmet in the way-" embarrassment flushes through him, and he knows he probably won't be any good, but… He wants to try. "Could I?"

 

"Can I kiss you first?" Din answers that by stepping as close as he can, counter pressing into his hips as he touches their lips together, a featherlight imitation of a kiss. Luke allows it for a moment before his left hand slides back, fingers curling around the back of his neck and pulling him in closer, slotting their lips together easier.

 

Din melts into the kiss, lips tingling faintly, and he allows himself to be swept away for a moment, Luke's lips against his, their breath ghosting across each other's cheeks. Luke tilts his head a little, angling them better, and Din shudders when Luke's lips part, tongue peeking out to brush over his lower lip. A bolt of electricity, hot and sweet shoots down his spine, pooling in his belly, and he groans, pulling Luke forward by his belt loops until their hips can press together. Luke makes a soft little noise against his lips, something like a pleased sigh and a moan, and Din wants to draw them out more, wants to hear them louder .

 

He's tugging Luke to his feet and leading him blindly toward the bedroom before he can think better of it. It's only once they're there, once the door is locked and Luke is stripped and sat on the edge of the bed that he hesitates again. "This is- it might not be good."

 

"Din, the first time I sucked cock I choked so hard I had to go to the medic. I can promise it won't be that bad."

 

"Do I want to know?"

 

Luke grins, cheery as ever as he says "Nope!" Popping the p in the word and then leaning back on a hand, spreading his legs casually. "Might be more comfortable if you're undressed. You'll get hot."

 

When Din pauses, uncertain, Luke's eyes soften. "Only what you're comfortable with, Din. You don't have to do this."

 

"I want to, I just- need some help?"

 

"You want me to guide you?" The thought sends such a rush of relief through him, and he nods, knowing Luke won't lead him astray. "Then strip for me, baby." Din does as he's told, shucking off his boots and socks, reaching for his shirt. "Leave it." Luke murmurs, eyes dark as Din flushes, dropping the hem of the shirt in lieu of shuffling out of his pants and underclothes.

 

Luke looks at him for a moment, eyes sweeping over him, and he tries not to wiggle, keeps his hands at his sides instead of covering himself. Eventually, when Luke doesn't show any sign of speaking, he clears his throat, voice weak in his ears. "Luke?"

 

Luke stirs, blinking, and then grabs one of the many throw pillows, tucking it on the ground and crooking his finger. "Kneel here, tell me if it's comfortable."

 

"I've knelt on worse." He protests, sinking to the ground and carefully kneeling on the pillow. He can feel the hard floor underneath, but his knee doesn't tweak, and maybe Luke knows what he's talking about with the pillow.

 

"When you kneel for me, I want you to be comfortable."

 

"Will I do it often?" He asks, arousal burning through him when Luke shrugs, scooting forward a bit until the insides of his thighs are snug around Din's shoulders. 

 

"If you like it. There's a reason I'm so keen on it." He has to concede that point, and he watches, breathless as Luke takes himself in hand, holding himself at the base even as a pearl of precome beads at the tip. "This is mostly self explanatory, think you can start on your own?"

 

Nodding, he tips forward, pressing closer, until Luke's thighs are iron around his shoulders, allowing him no further as he ducks down and drags his tongue over the head. He almost recoils at the taste, completely unused to it, but Luke's soft groan tempers the momentary shock, and when he licks again, curious, he finds it actually isn't too bad. He presses a kiss to the head, trying not to smile when Luke gasps, hips shifting. 

 

Luke is still holding himself steady, since his arms are pinned, and he glances up, shivering when his eyes meet Luke's. He locks eyes, feeling bare and vulnerable but desired as heat sparks in Luke's eyes, burning with every color of the stars. He takes the head into his mouth, sucking lightly, and stares as Luke's eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping him. 

 

Emboldened by the noises, he turns his attention fully to Luke, casting his gaze down as he takes him a little deeper, flattening his tongue against the underside as he sucks lightly. He flushes a bit at the noises he's making, at the way drool seems to dribble from the corners of his mouth, but Luke murmurs praise to him, voice breathy but deeper than Din has ever heard it.

 

Luke's praise washes over him, warming him from his hair down to his toes, and he redoubles his efforts. He listens to Luke's soft right there and use more tongue and relax your jaw with fervent attention, doing as he says, adjusting and figuring out the best way to take Luke deeper, to fill his mouth until his tongue is trapped against the underside of Luke's cock, until he's able to form a rhythm that's smoother than he expects.

 

The feeling of Luke sliding in and out of his mouth, rubbing over his tongue, stretching his lips and his jaw overloads his brain, until the only thing he can think of is wanting more, wanting Luke and his cock and the soft needy little noises he makes as he drops a hand to grab his hair, twisting the strands in a way that has him keening around Luke's cock. 

 

The vibration has Luke's hips bucking suddenly and he chokes, unable to parse the movement in time. He pulls off with a gasp, coughing, and Luke pets through his hair, shushing him lightly. "M'sorry, are you okay?"

 

"Fine," Din croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing a couple times. "Just wasn't prepared."

 

"Are you sure you're-" Din interrupts him by taking him back into his mouth, and Luke hisses out a swear, thighs trembling as he holds himself still. "Fuck, fuck , Din-"

 

Luke's voice, wrecked and needy and broken only fuels the fire, and he builds back up to his rhythm, unable to take all of Luke but happy to lavish attention to what he can fit into his mouth. He manages to get a hand up to take over holding him, and he strokes him slow and steady, working what he can't fit into his mouth.

 

He's warmed up to the taste of Luke, enjoys it even, and he laps at the head, intent to taste more, to remember even after Luke is done with his mouth. He flicks his tongue against the underside of the head, curls it as best he can to rub along the slit, and delights in the splash of precome against his tongue. When Luke's hand tightens in his hair he pulls back a little but refuses to move all the way, swirling his tongue around the head.

 

"Din, Din please I-"

 

Luke's hips twitch, thighs shaking, and Din feels him throb, has enough time to pull back, to realize what Luke's tight grip on his hair and desperate moans are trying to tell him just an instant too late. 

 

Luke comes with a high moan, voice cracking, and Din closes his eyes automatically at the first splash across his nose and cheek. Another lands on his eyebrow, nearly in his hair, but he keeps stroking him, twists his wrist at the top and works him until he's squirming, begging Din to let him rest. He's not sure what he expected from Luke accidentally coming on his face, but being unbearably aroused isn't part of it. It wasn't what he's expecting, but his skin prickles with the feeling, warm and alive and good

 

The room is quiet save for Luke's ragged, heaving breaths, and his own quiet rasping, jaw clicking when he goes to talk. "Was that okay?"

 

"Okay?" Luke says, sitting up as if to yell and stopping short at the sight in front of him. Din blushes, ducking his head a little, but Luke's breath hitches, thighs pressing tight around his shoulders. "That was perfect . You look-"

 

"Like a mess?"

 

"Like you're mine ." He replies, voice rough and low, trembling with something close to pride. 

 

"Well," Din murmurs, trying to fake nonchalance as he darts his tongue out to taste the trail that's trickled down through his mustache and over his lip. It's a bit salty, bitter, but it's Luke , and some base part of him likes the taste, likes the feeling of Luke having marked him. "You did just come on my face."

 

"I meant to warn you-"

 

"I want you to come in my mouth next time." He interrupts, fighting off a smile when Luke groans and flops back.

 

"You'll be the death of me."

 

--

 

4

 

His skin hurts today. 

 

It’s not a hurt, so much as it’s the fact that every one of his nerves seems to want to fire at once. He hasn’t had it happen in a while, not since before he got the kid and was so worried about keeping him safe he almost never properly undressed, but now- now he’s here, with Luke and Grogu and all the time and safety in the world it seems, so the armor can come off, and his nerves can come out to play. 

 

He ends up taking a cold shower to try and deaden the feeling, but that only makes it worse, sending prickles of heat and pain surging through him. So he’d done the only other thing he could think of that would help; he’d stripped bare, laid down on their bed with the sheets far out of the way, and tried to pass out. 

 

It had worked for a bit- while his nerves were fried, every brush of the bed harsh against his belly and chest, it was better, harder than the light brush of Luke’s shirt but not unbearable like the slow shifting pressure of his armor. But somewhere along the line a storm had kicked up on the planet, and now a breeze was blowing in through the window and he can feel his toes curling from the faintest brush against his skin. It’s worst on his face, worst when he can’t hide, and he ends up slipping his helmet on, just to dampen it, to breathe through a filter and stop the wind from playing with his hair.

 

The breeze is still distracting in other ways though, and he’s debating tossing the sheet over himself and dealing with it when the door slides open. He hadn’t even been cogent enough to hear Luke approaching, but he can hear the soft click of the heels of Luke’s too tall boots as he stops dead in the doorway, can hear the sharp inhale of breath. He listens to him walk over, hyperaware, and opens his mouth to warn him, to tell him, but Luke’s hand smooths up his back, following the curve of his spine, and he nearly leaps off the bed. 

 

Luke’s touch goes hard immediately, pressing into this skin with just enough force to dissipate the worst of the touch before he pulls away completely. “Bad day?”

 

His throat is too tight at first to give much more than a strangled noise of assent, but Luke settles down on the side of the bed, far enough away not to touch but close enough that Din can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He turns his head, metal shuffling over the sheets, and smiles when Luke dips to press his forehead to the temple of his helmet. 

 

“Did you want me to get you anything?” He shakes his head, dislodging Luke for a moment, but Luke only hums, pressing harder. “Do you want to be alone?”

 

Another shake of the head and Luke places a soft kiss on the ridge of his cheek, slipping away from the bed for a moment. Moving isn’t a good idea, never is, but he rolls up onto his side anyway, shoving the pillow higher under his head to support his neck as he watches Luke work. He shuffles around the room unhurried, stopping to close the window and cut off the breeze sweeping through the room before he unclips his lightsaber and the blaster he keeps strapped to his thigh. Both get set on his nightstand- newly made, after the sixth one was crushed, and then he sets about peeling off his layers. 

 

The sash at his waist goes, draped over the back of his chair, then the heavy robe, slipping from his shoulders and left with the sash. It leaves him in his leggings and the tight high collared shirt he wears underneath, and even in the fading light of the sun, the black draws out all the best angles of Luke’s body. It accentuates the dip of his waist, softens his hips and hides the muscles of his chest and stomach. It softens him in a way he’s never seen black do, and he knows that’s purely a Luke thing. 

 

Only Luke could wear black like a funeral shroud and make it work entirely for him. 

 

Luke peels out of his tunic, dropping it into the hamper, and is working his way out of his leggings when Din realizes he has a problem: He wants to get his hands on Luke and never let go, press up against him until the two of them are so close it’s hard to tell where either of them begin, but his skin is crawling just from the sheets of the bed and he knows he can’t . It’s the sweetest kind of torture, for his belly to warm with want, whole body flushing, and know that he can’t touch Luke- not with how sensitive he is, how much more sensitive he’ll be now that he’s aroused. 

 

Luke catches him staring while he’s trying to tug his leggings off of his feet, and he grins, lazy and happy. “Like what you see?”

 

“Waiting to see if you’re going to fall over,” Din murmurs, cracking a smile when Luke snorts and nearly eats the floor, swaying as he finally yanks the leggings off his feet. “If I do like what I see?”

 

“I’d say you have good taste.” Luke teases, leaving his underclothes on as he turns out the overhead light and allows the rest of the sun to light the room in swaths of orange tinged light. He’s careful when he climbs into bed, laying on his side and tucking an arm underneath his head as he smiles. “How are you?”

 

“Better,” Din replies, reaching out to brush his fingers over the gentle bumps of Luke’s ribs, covered by a healthy layer of muscle and fat. “Now that you’re here.”

 

“Sap.” Luke murmurs, tilting forward to bump their foreheads together. “How much can I touch you?”

 

Din pauses, fingertips sparking just from the warmth of Luke’s skin, and admits with soft disappointment, “You can’t.”

 

“So I can’t help with uh-” 

 

He shakes his head, cheeks flushing under the helmet. “Not tonight. It’ll go away.” 

 

Luke hums softly, legs shuffling across the sheets as he moves, wiggling a bit and settling when Din lays a palm flat against his side, fondly squeezing the soft pudge at his hip. They linger there together, Luke gazing at him with soft, sleepy eyes, seemingly content with the hand on his hip. He could almost fall asleep this way, one singular point of contact, of warmth that won’t overwhelm him. Just having him near calms his heart, eases the anxiety in his mind, and he drags in a long, deep breath, letting his chest expand until he feels fit to bursting and then letting it out slowly. 

 

He can practically feel Luke’s own happiness before he cracks an eye open, and he catches the way Luke’s eyes dart downward, lips parted and wet, and dammit, despite it all his skin flushes further. “What if…”

 

Luke stops, cheeks pink, and he slides his hand up, brushing along Luke’s ribs and shivering at the sensation under his palm. “What?”

 

“What if… I don’t touch you?”

 

Din struggles to catch up. “That’s kind of the point?”

 

“What if,” Luke’s teeth find his lower lip, worrying, and he raises a hand, thumb gently tugging until Luke releases his lower lip. Luke kisses the pad of his thumb, lips achingly soft. “What if you touched yourself? While I watched?”

 

Din’s brain shorts out completely. 

 

He can’t even speak with the sudden roaring of his heartbeat in his ears, the sudden insistent curl of arousal in his belly that makes his cock twitch and his hips shift. Luke watches him, eyes searching over the impassive face of his helmet, and he tries to stutter out a response. “That would be- nice. I can- can do what you want?”

 

Luke’s smile is radiant, and he gently takes hold of his hand, kissing the middle of his palm before pressing it to his cheek. His hand burns with the touch, but it’s the kind he craves. “Only do what you can bear.” 

 

Well, that probably won’t be much. Each movement is a different kind of agony, an overload of information, and he has to take a moment when he drops his hand to his own hip, the muscles in his stomach jumping at the touch. Luke watches with rapt attention, taking in every twitch, every hitch of breath as he clenches his hand before gently trailing his fingers over himself. His breath punches out of him with the first touch and he didn’t realise how powerful pleasure could feel when up on the edge like he is.

 

He almost comes right then, as he takes himself in hand, fingers curled loosely around his shaft while he thumbs over the head. Normally, unless he was working specifically, he’d be able to touch himself like this, lazy and slow for a while, content with the feeling and not particularly drawn toward finding his end. But now, with all of his nerves firing, it’s entirely too much, and he draws away with a gasp, precome dribbling and cock achingly hard. 

 

Luke notices, of course he does, pupils blown wide with lust. “You don’t have to continue, if it hurts.”

 

“I’m just- too sensitive.”

 

Luke hums, as if contemplating something. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t suggest anything, and he finds his hand drifting back again, as if he can’t help himself. This time he uses a firmer grip, slower strokes, and he’s able to somewhat clumsily ease the heat building, even though doing so only works him closer and closer to the edge. 

 

“Could I touch myself?” Luke asks suddenly, jarring him from his reverie. He sucks in a breath, shocked, and nods. Luke hums, ducking his face as if shy, and Din glances down, notices the wet spot on the front of his underclothes, and oh

 

“You like seeing me like this.”

 

“I like-” Luke’s breath hitches as he drops a hand to palm himself, not yet moving his underwear or doing anything to dip underneath. “Knowing you feel good.”

 

“But you like watching .” 

 

Luke’s face twists in pleasure, lips parting on a gasp, and he nods, slowly, as if hesitant to do so. Both of them watch each other for a moment, Luke’s hips shifting into his hand, Din trying hard not to end this before Luke has gotten to see anything. It’s not working very well, and he has to keep backing off, has to squeeze the base and just hold while Luke finally wiggles his underclothes down his hips just enough to free his cock. The sight of it, curving proudly in his hand, head leaking has him wishing suddenly that he could stand having the helmet off so he could let Luke rock into his mouth.

 

“If I weren’t here,” Luke murmurs suddenly, voice raspy. “What would you do?”

 

Amusement trickles through him, and he huffs a laugh, stroking himself slowly. “You are here.”

 

Luke laughs, low and rough, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “Humor me. If I weren’t here, what would you do?”

 

“Sleep.”

 

Luke laughs again, lips curling as he pins Din with a look, blue eyes finding his easily through the visor. “You’re ruining it.”

 

“Sorry, sorry.” He pauses for a moment, thinking it over. He knows what Luke wants, but he doesn’t know if he’s bold enough. Saying things in the heat of the moment, that’s one thing, but being deliberate about it? He doesn't know where to start. “Why are you gone?”

 

Luke arches a brow, aware of his stalling, but after a moment he sighs softly, indulging him. “Let’s say I was gone for some gala. You aren’t there because it’s a gala, and you’d rather be dead than attend one.” 

 

“Would I get to see your outfit?”

 

“I’d call you after the gala, or maybe during it, locked away in a bathroom just because I was bored, and I missed you.” 

 

“I’d miss you too.” And now, now is the moment that he steels his nerves for, ignores his hesitation. “I’d be in bed already, because of the time difference. You’d be- stunning in your black with all the lights.”

 

“I’d wear a bit of silver, just to remember you.” Luke smiles, aware of how sappy that is, aware that Din’s heart jack rabbits at the thought. “What would you be wearing?”

 

“One of your shirts.” Luke hums, eyes going half lidded as his thumb sweeps over the head of his cock, slow and lazy. Din watches the movement, breath caught in his throat. “ Only your shirt.” 

 

That earns a quiet moan, Luke turning his head toward his arm to muffle the sound. “What would you do if I talked about touching you?”

 

“I’d touch myself however you described, listen to your voice while wishing you were with me.” Din’s head tips back suddenly as a tremor wracks through him, and he rapidly has to back off on his hand, letting himself go to dig fingers into the sheets instead. “What would you want?”

 

“Mm, I’d ask you to touch yourself like this for a while, but… but I’d ask how you were feeling about me opening you up.” 

 

“I’d want it. I do want it.” He blinks his eyes open behind the visor, unsure of when he closed them, and tries to show Luke that he’s eager, that he wants it. Luke looks back at him with such unabashed wonder, as if he never expected it, and he finds himself emboldened by the sight. “Would you like to see that?” 

 

Luke stops, eyes widening in shock, and he waits, patient as Luke cycles through a range of emotions all at once. He settles on full blown lust and adoration, pupils so wide the blue of his eyes is nearly swallowed up. “Can you… can you handle that?”

 

“One way to find out, I guess.” 

 

Luke’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and Din is about to suggest he grab the lube out of the drawer when something clanks lightly against his helmet. He doesn't have to turn his head to figure out that it’s the aforementioned lube, and he scoots a bit closer, enough that his skin burns with the heat of Luke so close without the actual sensation of touch. The only thing he allows is their foreheads to bump, beskar against skin, watching the way that Luke shudders at the cool metal, sinking into the feeling with a flutter of lashes. 

 

The tube of lube is familiar, the cap popping with a soft click. The lube is shockingly cold against his fingers, or maybe it’s just that the rest of him is flushed, but he rubs it between his fingers, warming it up while Luke stares. He looks like he wants to reach out, wants to smear the lube along his fingers and touch . Din wonders briefly is this is a different kind of torture, a blissful, heady kind that sits low in their bellies, draws on feelings that they don’t usually get to experience. 

 

They both know the ache of distance, of being unable to be together, but here, now, where they could touch if only Din could bear it, it’s an entirely new horror. It’s a gnawing ache in his bones, to want Luke, to want to feel him chest to chest, thigh to thigh, heart to heart. But all he can do, all he can bear is the gentle kiss of Luke’s forehead against his helmet, the sound of his breath in his ears and the burning path his eyes trail as Din reaches a hand back.

 

The angle is a bit awkward, and it isn’t a good way for Luke to watch, so he shifts, slow and careful, and laughs when Luke scrambles to reposition himself. He ends up on his back, heels braced on the bed as Luke sits close between his legs, kneeling. He reaches out briefly, as if he can’t help himself, just touching his knee for a moment, centering himself to this moment, and then flashes a smile. 

 

“So, would you let me see on the holocall, or would I just have to hear?” 

 

The transition back into their conversation is a bit jarring, but the distraction helps as he sinks a finger slowly into himself, hips hitching up away from the sensation on instinct. It overwhelms him immediately, catches the breath in his throat, and he whines softly. 

 

“J-just sound at first.” 

 

“Mm, I’d have to beg, wouldn’t I? All alone at the gala, but you’d still make me work for it.” 

 

“Hah- I can’t spoil you, or you’ll get-” His voice cuts off as he crooks his own finger, one leg shooting out as his thigh trembles. Luke’s breath rushes out of him in one great noise, but he can’t pay attention to it, can only rock his hips down as he works his finger deeper, crooking it the way he likes and keening softly. “You’ll get greedy.” 

 

“I think that ship has sailed,” Luke murmurs, and this time when Din manages to look at him, eyesight hazy, he catches the near predatory glint in his eyes as they track the movements of his hand. “As soon as you agreed to let me watch. Could you take another?” 

 

“Without coming?” Luke hums an affirmative, and he shuffles, drawing his leg back into place. His cock brushes against his forearm when he shifts, and the dual sensation nearly has him crying out, hips jerking uselessly as he slips a second finger inside. The slight burn and stretch helps ground him in the moment, and he works his fingers slowly, drawing out and then pushing back in, groaning at the slick slide of his own fingers, the wetness that smears on his skin when he twists his wrist to change the angle. 

 

He’s desperately hard, skin crawling with heat and need, and he nearly loses himself then in the curve of his own fingers, the warmth of his body as he relaxes slowly around his fingers. “I haven’t- done this in a while.” 

 

“Do you do it a lot?” 

 

“The fingering or the dirty talk?” 

 

“I know what your mouth gets up to,” Luke says playfully, though his voice breaks at the end, and he can only imagine what Luke looks like right now, skin flushed and cock hard. “I meant touching yourself like this.” 

 

“Not usually,” His hips shift down, rocking in time with the upward press of his fingers, and he moans when he brushes against his prostate. The coil in his belly threatens to snap then, and he backs off, drawing his fingers back to curl them, stretching his rim and panting at the sensation. “Too much work when I’m alone.”

 

“And now?” 

 

“And now I’m hoping that I can sleep this off enough to take you in the morning.” It’s the boldest thing he thinks he’s said all night, but Luke swears, voice breaking on a moan, and he shivers. “Are you gonna come?”

 

“I will if you don’t stop driving me wild.” Luke mutters, huffing out hot breaths that he can feel drift over his thighs as Luke leans forward. Luke’s hair brushes against his thigh, setting the muscle into a fine tremble, and he whines. “Sorry, love.”

 

“No, it’s good, it’s good.” Din promises, working his fingers deeper again before gingerly pressing his fingers against his prostate. He goes still immediately, whole body trembling, and he finds his voice for an instant. “Will you come on me?”

 

Fuck .” He feels lips on his knee, gentle but with firm, even pressure, and he squirms, wiggling down until Luke’s knees brush against the undersides of his thighs. It’s overwhelming immediately, just gentle touches, but he aches for it. “Where?”

 

“Anywhere, I’m so close, wanna feel it-” He’s lost all coherent thought, only knows the fire in his blood, the pure want that claws at his belly and begs to be released. 

 

Luke understands, knows him better than anyone else ever has, and he wishes he could see, wishes he could get his eyes to open and his head to lift, but his back has locked into a bow, head tilted back, and all he can do is pray, pray that Luke won’t keep him on the edge for long. The only sound for a while is the sound of their breaths, ragged and uneven, the wet slide of Luke’s hand over himself, the quiet sound of his fingers moving, in and out with quick, frantic desperation. 

 

“I love you,” Luke says suddenly, cracked and raw, lips pressing harder into his knee, moving just slightly down his thigh. “I love you.” 

 

“Come for me- please .” 

 

Luke groans, lips trembling, breath hot against his skin, and comes with a drawn out moan, something that almost sounds like his name. 

 

He’s expecting it, asked for it, but still the hot splash of Luke’s come across his thigh and hip jolts him, and his hips lift off the bed as he crooks his fingers and rubs mercilessly, shoving himself over the edge with a sudden cry of Luke’s name. He slows his fingers immediately, overwhelmed, and whimpers when Luke murmurs, low and sweet. 

 

“Breathe, baby, just breathe. You’re doing so good.” He sucks in a breath, letting it shudder out of him as slowly his hips and then back sink down into the bed. He can feel his skin buzzing, muscles twitching and trembling as the tension releases from his body, and slowly, with Luke’s fingers gently on his wrist, he pulls back, letting his hand rest against his hip. “Do you need anything right now?”

 

“Water?” 

 

“Cold?” Shaking his hand, he reaches up with his clean hand to release the lock of his helmet. He pushes it up, discards it somewhere above his head, and blinks at the dim light of the room, the soft feeling of air on his face as he pulls in a deep breath. “Washcloth too?”

 

“Please.” 

 

Luke disappears from the bed, padding to their adjoining ‘fresher, and he can hear the sound of the water running, of Luke shuffling through the cupboards in search of a washcloth. While Luke works on that he takes in his own needs- there’s lube and come slowly drying on him, his wrist is cramping from the angle he used, and his skin is still crawling, but he feels fuzzy and warm, sated in a way he hasn’t in a while. When he shifts he can feel how open he is, and he turns onto his side just to enjoy the sensation. 

 

His Jedi finds him that way, hips shifting minutely and legs tucked loosely up toward his chest. “Here, washcloth.” 

 

Luke bumps it against his knee, the cloth practically scalding, and he takes it, using it before it goes cold to wipe up his front and the lube from between his cheeks before he hands it back. Luke gives him the glass of water while he disposes of the washcloth, and he’s still draining it when Luke comes back to bed, climbing in next to him and curling up. Din sets the cup on his nightstand when he’s drained it, and then carefully eases himself down, laying face to face with Luke and smiling at his bright eyes and sleepy smile.

 

“I love you too, you know.” 

 

“I know,” Luke murmurs, reaching out to rest his hand in between them, an offering. 

 

“Thank you for being-” He wants to say so many things: kind, understanding, accepting, here , but all he settles on is something that emcompasses it all. “You.” 

 

“No one I’d rather be.” Luke jokes, grinning and wiggling when Din reaches out to slightly swat at his hip before dropping his hand over Luke’s. “Sleep well, love.” 

 

He tries to say that he isn’t tired, but like a prophet, Luke speaks his weariness into life, and he closes his eyes, hunkering down to sleep. 

 

--

 

5

 

He dreams of soft hands and a warm mouth and golden hair that night. He dreams of lips on his, urgent but never demanding, hard but never rough enough to hurt him. He dreams of hands on his sides, holding his ribs close, of hips working against him, of his thighs around a tanned waist, dreams of asking for more , aching and hot under the collar.

 

He wakes up with a jolt, breath stuck in his throat as Luke shifts next to him. There is an ocean of space between them, a chasm of his own making, and he scrambles for a moment trying to remember why it’s there. He tries to parse out if they’d fought, if he’d said something stupid that had hurt Luke in a way he would never admit, but- 

 

But he shifts, rolling onto his side, and feels the lingering openness, the faint stickiness that a washcloth can’t quite fully take away. He remembers his dream, a fantasy in his mind only, and buries his face in the pillow to muffle his sudden groan. Last night comes back to him in a rush of images and feelings and want , and when he touches himself, smooths a hand over his chest, his stomach, over his hips, he finds that while still a little sensitive, he isn’t painfully aware like he was. He almost feels numb compared to last night, and he wants to bridge the gap between them, but he’s not quite ready.

 

He feels too bare, too laid out, and when he rolls to get up he finds a shirt on the nightstand, folded and waiting for him. Love sparks in his chest, takes his breath away all over again, and he reaches out, grabbing it and crushing it against his face just to smell the detergent that Luke uses. He shrugs into it as he gets up, shivering at the brush of fabric against his stomach, the sleeves that are just a little too short to come down to his wrists. It’s one of Luke’s newer shirts, bigger with the added muscle he didn’t have in the Rebellion, and fits him better than he expects.

 

He moves to pop a toothpaste tab, use the ‘fresher, and wash his hands before grabbing another tab and heading back to bed. He stares at Luke for a moment, struck by the way his hair fans out, catching the first rays of the sun rising through the trees in streaks of gold and burnished bronze. He loves this man, loves him with all his heart, knows he would do anything for him, just as Luke would for him. 

 

So it’s easy to slip back into bed, to pull the sheets back for a moment and swing a leg over Luke’s hips before he settles, pulling the sheets up around his back to keep Luke partially covered in the cool of the morning. Luke stirs immediately, hands finding his thighs, and his eyes are spring blue when he peeks them open, a smile overtaking his face immediately. 

 

“You’re feeling better.” 

 

“Thank you for the shirt.” Luke hums, hands smoothing up and down his thighs with idle attention. “Here.” He murmurs, brushing his thumb over Luke’s lips and dropping the toothpaste tab onto his tongue when he opens his mouth. Luke chews lazily, as if he could go back to sleep at any moment, but still he leans up a bit, meets Din halfway in a kiss that tastes blissfully like mint and not morning breath. 

 

When they pull back after a moment, breathless and eager, Luke is the first one to speak, hand up along his thigh, over his hip to press along his lower back, scooting him up a bit further. “This is a nice wakeup.” 

 

“Mh.” He dips down to kiss his lover again, delighting in the firm press of their lips, the heady feeling of Luke’s skin hot against his. He sneaks a hand across the bed, searching, and finds the tube of lube, bumping it gently against the hand still on his thigh as he nips at Luke’s lower lip. “Could be better.” 

 

“Yeah?” Luke takes the offered lube, slicks the fingers of his left hand, and draws him even higher, until he’s practically off of Luke’s lap and onto his stomach. “How much better?”

 

“Could have- ah-” Luke slips two fingers into him, slow and gentle, and his toes curl immediately as he takes them, easy as breathing. “Could have woken you up already inside me.” 

 

“Another morning, maybe.” Luke murmurs, as if his cock isn’t twitching underneath Din where it’s trapped against his thigh. “See you found my shirt.”

 

“Said thank you, didn’t I?” He murmurs, dipping to kiss him while rocking his hips back into the press of a third finger, into the achingly slow curl of Luke’s fingers up into him. 

 

“You did,” Luke agrees, huffing out a breath when Din shifts in his lap. “It’s as much for you as it is for me.” 

 

“Possessiveness doesn’t suit a Jedi.” He’s teasing, hopes that Luke can tell, and smiles when Luke laughs quietly, crooking his fingers as their foreheads bump. 

 

“I haven’t left any marks.” Yet . Din can hear the implied threat, the promise in his words, and he moans softly, reaching back to ease Luke’s fingers from him. 

 

Luke says something else, he’s sure of it, but it’s cut off part way by a moan as Din takes him in a slick hand, stroking once before carefully, insistently sitting back, taking him inch by hot inch. Din can feel Luke trembling underneath him, can feel his fingertips biting into his hip, can feel the way Luke carves up into him, hard and deep and satisfying . He almost feels drunk by it as he sits back, rolls his hips forward just to grind on him and squeeze around him.

 

Luke’s other hand, messy with lube reaches to catch his hip, and he stretches, hips lifting as he snags a towel off the nightstand and sinks back down. “Here.” 

 

Luke huffs a noise somewhere between a laugh and scoff and wipes his hand off, setting the towel somewhere next to him. “Better?”

 

“Mhm.” Luke’s hand finds his hip this time, holding tight but not impeding his movement as he lifts and drops leisurely, never pulling back very far before his thighs tremble, before the aching need to take him back drives his hips downward. “Would have been- disappointed if I couldn’t touch you this morning.”



Luke laughs underneath him, low and rumbling, and he peeks an eye open, catches Luke watching where he sinks into him. Luke’s eyes flick to meet his, darkened by lust, and he shudders, full bodied when Luke’s hips lift to meet him. He reaches, braces both hands on Luke’s chest, squeezing a tit cheekily and laughing when Luke pinches his hip in reprimand. 

 

“You can touch me all you want.” Luke points out, breath shaking from his throat as his head tips back. It exposes the long line of his neck, gives Din access as he leans down, kissing along the column of his throat until he finds Luke’s pulse. It slams underneath his lips, underneath tongue and teeth as he teases at a mark, knowing he can’t leave it this high but wishing he could. “Do it. Please, please Din-”

 

In the end, he’s always been weak for Luke, always ached to do as he asks, so he allows his teeth to bite harder, to coax a bruise, beautiful and red against his skin as Luke’s hips buck up at the feeling. Pulling back to admire it, he moans as Luke grinds desperately up into him, fingers tight on his hips and chest heaving underneath his hands. 

 

“Close already?” Luke nods his head, swallowing loud enough for his throat to click, and he smiles, hands shifting to tweak over a nipple as Luke keens. “Gonna make me do all the work again?”

 

Luke’s eyes fly open, head tipping, and then Luke is flipping them with the grace of a trained fighter, one easy, smooth movement as one hand steadies his ass, the other bracing on the bed as he lifts Din’s hips to meet the next roll of his own. Luke shuffles forward a bit, crowding into his space, and he stretches out, languid and sated at the feeling of Luke rocking in and out of him. 

 

“Din, Din could I have another?”

 

Luke doesn’t need to elaborate to know what he means, and Din does as he’s asked, licking at the hollow of his throat, sealing his lips and drawing a fresh mark to the surface. He pops off once Luke is shaking against him, and moves, littering smaller, fainter marks along his collar bones, teeth scraping over the bone as Luke’s hips jerk and grind with an erratic, clumsy rhythm. His own mounting pleasure, while still a roar in the background of his mind, mellows into something more, a need to please, to mark and do whatever Luke asks of him. 

 

“What else do you want?”

 

“More, more please .” 

 

“I can give you more,” He promises, voice soft as the sun fully breaks the horizon and paints the bed in streaks of rich yellow and pink, “As long as you don’t hold yourself back.” 

 

“I won’t, I won’t-” Luke babbles, eyes squeezed shut as he thrusts a bit harder, holds his hips higher and crowds into his space until it’s impossible to tell where Luke begins and Din ends. “I love you.”

 

The sentiment warms him from the inside out, making his toes curl, and they lose themselves like that. Din’s lips find new spaces to leave marks, along his neck, behind his ear, on his chest, his shoulders- anywhere that he can reach, that he can touch he leaves marks, until he’s sure someone will see and accuse him of doing awful things. Until Luke’s skin is a patchwork of red and purple and freckles, until the taste of sweat lingers on his tongue long after he draws back to kiss Luke.

 

Until Luke shudders above him, pressing them together, hips to hips, chest to chest, heart to heart, and comes, pressed right to his prostate, shifting just enough to rub and rub and push him quietly over that soft cliff edge. His orgasm is like being lowered into a field of flowers instead of a wild freefall, and he sighs, moans Luke’s name and hums against his lips as he spills across his belly, thighs trembling minutely and hips lifting to press Luke deeper. 

 

They lay tangled in each other long after the afterglow fades, when Luke pulls back and lays on his chest, crushing him just a little bit, but in a way that Din craves. He presses kisses into Luke’s sweat tousled hair, keeps his thighs tight around Luke’s ribs, and preens at the way Luke’s arms tuck around him, fingers dancing along the curve of his lower back, tracing the bumps of his spine. He dips back occasionally to slide through his own mess, leaking slowly out of Din, but it’s only to touch, to reaffirm, not meant to start anything new. 

 

Eventually, once the sun has burned away the cool of the night, once their bodies turn sticky with leftover sweat, they move, retreating to get ready for the day, to face it head on hand in hand. 

 

--

 

+1

 

"I think I'm getting old." 

 

The statement is muttering in something akin to abject horror, and Din pauses from where he's got his hands buried in sudsy blonde hair. 

 

"You're twenty nine."

 

"I've got kids ." 

 

"Uh huh."

 

"And my back hurts and my knee crunches when I go up stairs and I have to use a special pillow just to keep my neck from seizing."

 

"Sounds rough." Din agrees, tilting his lover's head back to rinse the soap from his hair before working some conditioner through it. "Getting old is part of life, right? Means you've done something good."

 

" You have beskar to support you." Luke grumbles, though it's half hearted, and he's leaning into the scratch of nails against his scalp more and more. 

 

"Mhm." Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on Luke's lips, draping his arms around his shoulders and combing his hands through Luke's conditioner soaked hair. "Your back hurts because you keep crashing the x-wing, your knee crunches because you decided a hundred foot drop off a cliff was fine since you have the Force, and your neck seizes because the nerves are fucked."

 

"Well, yeah but-"

 

"They're all marks of things you've done. For others, for your own dumb curiosity." Luke pauses, considering Din’s words. "Your body tells a story."

 

"I wish it'd tell it in a less painful way."

 

Tilting Luke's head back again to rinse him one final time, Din huffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah, me too. Now c'mon, you bag of bones, the bed awaits."

 

Luke sighs as if out upon, but the mention of the bed seems to perk him up. They towel off haphazardly, skin slightly damp with ambient humidity, and while Din trims his beard, getting it back more toward his regular scruff and mustache, Luke putters around their bedroom. Din can hear him clattering around, muttering to himself, and when he steps out of the 'fresher, leaning against the door and taking pressure off his right hip, he watches as Luke twists, trying to put a pain patch on his back.

 

Finally, after watching him struggle, Din steps forward, taking the patch and smoothing it along Luke's spine, right where he knows the pain is worst. Luke sighs as the patch begins to work, turning to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "Thanks, beautiful."

 

"Beautiful?"

 

"Handsome? Charming? Adorable?" Luke tries, grinning when he rolls his eyes at the nicknames. 

 

"Get in bed, Luke." 

 

"Joining me?"

 

"After the day you put me through?" He asks wryly, keeping the smile from his face as Luke grins sheepishly. "Yeah, I'll join you."

 

Luke's grin brightens, and while Din goes to turn out the lights and crack the window, Luke crawls into bed and gets comfortable. Luke holds the blankets up until Din slides into bed, and then fluffs them around the two of them as Din sidles up against his back, fitting Luke neatly in the curve of his body. Luke snuggles in, with his special pillow under his head, and sighs softly. 

 

“Thank you,” Luke murmurs after a few minutes of laying there, soaking in the feeling of skin on skin. “For helping me today.” 

 

“You push yourself too hard without me there.” He murmurs, smoothing a hand up over Luke’s belly, pausing briefly over his heart before smoothing back down. Luke shivers under the touch, sighing softly and relaxing back further. “What was it your old masters said?”

 

“That I was a joy to have in class?”

 

“Har har.” Luke laughs, shoulders shaking lightly with the sound, and Din tucks forward to place a soft kiss into the crook of his neck. “I was referring to your impulsivity.” 

 

“You like my impulsivity.” 

 

“Only when I’m there to stop it.”

 

“Or use it to your advantage.” Luke turns his head, lips curled in a smirk, and Din rolls his eyes, kissing the corner of his mouth as his hand drifts up and down Luke’s front again. Luke shivers again at the touch, twisting briefly to kiss him properly, and Din tugs him a bit closer, trying to ease the strain on his back. 

 

Luke hums against his lips, nearly turns around, but Din holds him steady, goes up on an elbow so that Luke can relax back further. Everywhere that they touch is blissfully warm, heat radiating from Luke as it always does, and he imagines he can see the sparks that shoot from his fingertips as he traces the bit of hair that trails up Luke’s stomach, petering off near his navel. 

 

Luke shudders against him at the touch, lips parting, and he hums quietly, nipping his lower lip and drawing a quiet whine from him. “You’ve never told me why you’re so jumpy after.” 

 

He pulls back just enough to talk, bumping his nose against Luke’s and waiting patiently as Luke presses up to kiss him, once, twice before slumping back to the bed, sighing softly. “It’s a Force thing.”

 

“Something you do on purpose?” He prompts, hand stilling on Luke’s abdomen, fingers splaying wide as the muscle jumps under his palm. Luke shifts a little, seemingly impatient, but he holds him back against his body, lining them up until Luke can’t squirm at all. “Luke?”

 

“It’s not… on purpose . I mean- it’s a choice I make, but not for this.” When he doesn't move, doesn’t kiss him again Luke huffs, frowning slightly and pouting up at him. He obliges him with a single, soft kiss, pulling back and looking down at him expectantly.  Luke only groans and mutters something about Din being merciless before he explains. “The Force is in every living thing, right? When I connect with it deeply, it leaves an after effect.” 

 

“Like?”

 

“Like heightened senses. Sight, taste, smell, touch .” Din slides his hand up, fingers finding Luke’s nipple, and he watches with rapt attention when Luke’s eyelids flutter. “Thank you for that demonstration, Din.” 

 

“You’ve never mentioned this.” 

 

Luke gives a little shrug, cheeks pink. “You don’t mention your sensitivity.”

 

“Not to strangers.” Din agrees, dipping to brush his lips over the curve of Luke’s shoulder. “How do you deal with it?”

 

“Mm, same way you do yours.” Luke murmurs, turning his head to rest properly as Din shifts to press a kiss into his hair. 

 

Luke’s hips shift back, slow and seemingly mindless, but the roll he adds right at the end is anything but. Din keeps his breathing steady, light and even as he shifts his hips forward, humming low in his throat and hiding a smile in Luke’s hair at the way it makes Luke shudder. “If I remember correctly, the last time I was this sensitive, I didn’t just sleep it off.”

 

“No?” Luke murmurs, hips rolling back with more intention this time, and oh, he knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? Din trails his fingers down Luke’s front, away from his nipples, fingertips skating over his happy trail, falling lower and lower, until Luke’s breath hitches in his throat as he skirts around him completely and gently grabs at one of his thighs. “What ah, what made it better?” 

 

“Coming.” It isn’t strictly true; their sleep afterward was what actually helped settle his nerves, but Luke shudders against him, lips parting on a soft noise, and he buries his face in Luke’s neck to nip lightly at the soft spot behind his ear. “Is that what you need?” 

 

“Better safe than sorry, right?” 

 

Huffing a quiet laugh, he gives Luke’s thigh a squeeze before he drops his hand lower, tracing up over the vein on the underside of his shaft. Luke’s hips jump at the sudden touch, a gasp escaping him, and he hooks his leg over Luke’s, holding him in place the best he can. Luke wiggles against him, fingers catching at the sheets as Din trails his fingers down, giving no more pressure than the light brushing of his fingers. “Okay?”

 

“You know that isn’t helpful.” Luke murmurs, hips twitching and brows furrowing. “It- makes it worse.” 

 

“Does it?” Din murmurs, injecting as much fake curiosity into his voice as he can. It must work to a point because Luke groans, reaches down to grab at his wrist, shifting his hand until he’s got Luke’s cock trapped between his palm and his belly. Luke grinds up into his hand, moaning softly, and he hooks his chin over Luke’s shoulder, watching the head disappear under his palm. “Here, let me.” 

 

He’s sure that Luke would try to shoot him some kind of look if it weren’t for the fact that he takes Luke into hand properly this time, grip firm and a little dry as Luke’s hips buck up. Luke shoves his hips back suddenly, shuddering, and it’s Din’s turn to gasp, to press his face against Luke’s shoulder as Luke grinds back against him. “Are you- up to fucking me?”

 

“Tonight?” He asks, shuddering and tightening his grip around Luke, delighting in the breathy moan it earns him. He takes stock of how he feels- muscles sore, right hip twinging with each small movement. He likes to imagine he’s still somewhat spry, but he knows even this will be beyond him today. “Hate to sound old, but…”

 

“Your hip will dislocate?” Luke teases, laughing when Din grumbles against his neck. He loosens his grip in reprimand, pulling back slightly, and Luke whines, hand reaching back to dig fingers into his hip. “M’sorry, don’t stop.” 

 

“I’m not the one with a special pillow for his neck.” He snipes, Luke laughing quietly and grinding his hips back slowly.

 

You bought me that pillow.” 

 

Din doesn't deem that worthy of an answer, instead gingerly rolling his hips forward. The soft grind doesn't seem to upset his hip too much, and he hums, snuggling a bit closer. “This is as much as I can do.” 

 

Luke hums, thoughtful, and Din perks his head up when he hears the drawer to the nightstand open. Luke’s eyes are closed, brow furrowed faintly in concentration, but the smile on his face when he scoops the lube out of the air is enough to make Din breathless. “I think I have a solution.” 

 

“Gonna tell me?” 

 

“Nope. Keep touching me?” 

 

“Gimme some lube.” he stops briefly to hold his hand out, accepting the dollop that Luke squirts into his palm. Luke hisses at the first touch, grumbling about it being cold, but his protests peter out at the slick slide of his hand. Luke pauses briefly in whatever idea he was about to enact to just rock up into his hand, head tossed back against Din’s shoulder and lips parted on a moan. 

 

The sight is absolutely breathtaking, and he rolls his thumb over the head just to watch the way Luke’s nose scrunches as his brows raise. It’s distracting enough that he doesn't notice the hand that reaches back until Luke is wrapping slick fingers around him. The lube is a shock of cold, the touch a shock of sensation, and he gasps, biting lightly at Luke’s shoulder and swearing. Luke laughs, breathless and soft, and turns his head, searching until Din kisses him gently. 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Something tells me you aren’t.” Din grouses, smiling against Luke’s lips when Luke snickers. “Gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

 

“Mm-mh.” Luke kisses him again, smiling against his lips when he harrumphs a little bit. He slows his hand as Luke begins to fidget, pulling back for a moment to look at him. He never even gets the chance to open his mouth to ask before Luke is answering him, tucking down into the pillow and arching his neck. “Just close.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

“It is if I come before we get to do what I wanna do.”

 

“Well, you could tell me so I can help.” He offers, pressing his lips together to hide his smile when Luke pouts. Ducking down, he rasps his chin over Luke’s shoulder, watching the way that Luke’s lashes flutter at the sensation. “Sure you won’t tell me?”

 

“You’re nosy.” Luke says suddenly, giving his cock one last squeeze before he pulls back. “Just- gimme a second.” 

 

“One... two…” That earns him a laugh and a wet smack against his hip, and then Luke is scooting just a bit further up the bed, shifting the two of them and lifting his leg up. Fingers curl against his shaft for a moment, tucking him up further, and then Luke is closing his legs, trapping Din between his thighs. The feeling is warm and wet and soft around him, and he shifts his hips forward, groaning softly. “ Oh .” 

 

“Like it?” Luke asks, voice breathy as Din rocks against him, sliding between his lube slicked thighs while his hand tightens incrementally around Luke. Din can’t find words, can’t really explain to him how it feels completely different from fucking him, entirely different from just grinding against him. It’s soft and plush in a way he’s not used to, and he whines softly, pressing his forehead to Luke’s shoulder. 

 

“It’s-” He hooks his arm over Luke a bit tighter, pulls them closer together and strokes up the length of Luke’s cock, lingering to play with the underside of the head. “ Soft .” 

 

Luke shudders against him as Din’s hips press against his ass and thighs, and he keeps carefully still, pressing his thighs tight as Din rocks between them. “It feels good.” Luke confesses suddenly, hand reaching back to bury in Din’s hair when Din kisses at his neck. “My skin is so sensitive and you- you feel so warm and-”

 

Luke cuts off with a moan as Din rolls his hips, strokes him in time with each long, indulgent grind forward, each lingering pull back. Din can only imagine how this must feel, how Luke must feel, Din’s cock between his thighs and Din’s hand on him. His skin lights up with the thought of experiencing it the next time, of asking Luke to do this to him if he can bear it.

 

But for now he focuses on Luke, focuses on the slow, long thrusts that make Luke keen high in the back of his throat, the strokes that make Luke’s fingers tighten in his hair. He’s intimately aware of how to read him, how to draw the best noises out of him, and he drags his lips over Luke’s neck, up until he finds the soft space of his shoulder, sucking a mark just above his collarbone. Luke arches away from the touch, crying out, and he holds him tight, thrusts a little bit harder, and delights in the way that Luke’s breath hiccups in his throat.

 

“How long have you thought about doing this, Luke?” He keeps his voice quiet, just for the two of them to hear, for Luke to feel in vibrations against his back. “How long have you wanted me to use you like this?”

 

“Since that night you were- oversensitive. I didn't- know what you could handle but-” Luke gasps when Din’s teeth find his neck, working a mark slowly as he talks. “But I wanted to touch and this seemed less invasive and-” 

 

“You can try, next time.” 

 

The whimper that falls from Luke’s lips is musical, and he presses his hips forward, stopping for a moment before he gets overwhelmed. “Promise?”

 

“Promise.” 

 

Luke groans, lips twitching up into a smile. “It might sound wrong, but I hope it happens soon.” 

 

“Mh, I’ll forgive the statement.” Luke laughs, letting the sound warm into an appreciative moan as Din begins to move again. 

 

They linger there together, Din stroking him in time with the lazy rolling of his hips, enjoying the simplicity of being close. Their day had been stressful, full of obstacles that should have been easy to clear, and now, to be here, warm and safe and in each other’s arms, it’s a little piece of bliss. Just a moment frozen in time, where Din can tuck his face into Luke’s neck, moan his name and whisper praise into his skin while Luke squirms in his arms. 

 

It’s easy to lose himself this way, in the rising crest of his pleasure, in the shared feeling of arousal that thrums between them. His heart thumps a wild rhythm against his sternum, sweet and breathless, and he knows that Luke’s is hammering along with his, light and quick under his lips. Luke’s fingers curl and uncurl in his hair in time with his thrusts, pulling and tugging whenever Din seems to press just right, and it’s when Luke’s fingers go tight, arm shaking, that Din tightens his grip, shoving his hips forward to buck Luke up into his fist.

 

Luke comes with a sharp, aching cry of his name, whole body trembling, and it’s the shaking of Luke’s thighs, tight and warm around him that gets him in the end. He grinds forward, fucking luke’s thighs in short, staccato movements that make his hips ache as he works his way through his orgasm. He presses his face into Luke’s neck, hiding away as he pants, hips twitching and whole body quaking in a shudder as his muscles go lax. Luke rests his weight back against him, sleepy and sated, and gently rolls his hips back one last time before lifting his leg and allowing Din to slip back. 

 

Luke moves to set his leg back down, to settle, but Din catches his knee, holding him in place while he peels back just enough to look at the shine on his thighs, the pearly ropes of his own come that decorate the insides of his thighs. After a moment he swallows, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth so he can croak out a compliment. “Pretty.” 

 

Luke huffs a laugh, rolling onto his back, and Din glances up to stare at the blush that’s risen high on Luke’s cheeks, the tousled way his hair has begun to dry. “Think so?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Almost a shame to get cleaned up.” Luke laments, shifting a little bit. “How's the hip?” 

 

“In one piece, I think. How’s the back?”

 

“Still hanging in there.” The both of them laugh, soft and intimate, and Din dips down to kiss him properly this time, without tweaking the nerves in Luke’s neck and without fucking his hip up. Eventually, once the lube and their own come has begun to dry, Din drags himself out of bed to get a washcloth, wiping at Luke’s thighs and belly, and then his own front. Luke sinks into the soft touches, giggling when Din tucks down to kiss his thighs before crawling up to settle against his side. “So, what did you think?”

 

“Your knee does crunch when you go up steps.” Luke thwacks at his chest, scowling, and Din chuckles, hiding his smile in a kiss to Luke’s collarbone. “It was nice. Not- overwhelming, but not lacking.” 

 

“Put that on the back of the book.” Luke jokes, snickering when Din pinches at his hip. “Were you serious about trying it next time you’re sensitive?” 

 

“If I can stand to let you get that close, you can fuck my thighs as long as you want.” He promises, tilting up to bump his nose against Luke’s jaw as Luke sucks in a sharp breath. “As long as you think of a different position, one without so much skin contact” 

 

“I can think of three right now.” Luke breathes, blushing when Din laughs.