Work Text:
The hiss of the ramp opening and the desperate bargains of a caught bounty alerted you to the fact that Mando had returned.
“Please, good Mandalorian, sir! I’ll give you anything!” the man begged as Mando dragged him aboard and hit the button to close the ramp with a closed fist. “You want credits? How much are they paying you for me? I have more! Do you think just anyone could visit that whorehouse where you found me? That’s a high-class establishment, that is.”
“Shut up,” Mando said. You heard him force the bounty into the carbonite freezer and caught a single scream that was quickly cut off.
You climbed down the ladder into the main part of the ship.
Mando was on edge—you could tell from the tense way he moved and the clip of his words. Had something gone awry with the mission? After nearly four months on the road with him, you had learned to read his mannerisms pretty well. But his face, under that ever-present mask, was inscrutable.
He had landed in Corellia for repairs a while back, and after seeing your work on the Razor Crest and the tender way you’d played with his little green child, he’d offered you a job. Live-in mechanic. It was your chance to see the galaxy and go on adventures. But lately, you were beginning to wish there was more to your relationship with your boss, like romance. Dangerous. You had never seen him so much as flirt with anyone. Did he even like women?
“Where’s the kid?” Mando asked, snapping you out of your introspection.
“Asleep in his carriage. Out like a rock. He was scampering around the ship all day like a skittermouse.”
He nodded, not really looking at you as he began to strip off his gloves and armor, excepting the helmet. “And why are you still up?”
“One of the engine toggles was sticking. I’ve been working at it ever since the little terror settled down.”
“Good, good.” He didn’t seem to be listening.
You crossed the room in a few strides and laid a hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
He jolted away like he’d been zapped.
Stunned, you retracted your hand, stuffing it in a pocket of your baggy overalls to show that you weren’t about to touch him again.
“Sorry.” His voice modulator crackled as he took a shaky breath. “No, I’m not all right. Idiot jabbed me with a needle while he was trying to get away. Us being where we were, I think it was some sort of aphrodisiac. Don’t know what he was thinking, unless he wanted to get fucked before I brought him in.”
You smiled at his attempt at a joke, then quickly sobered. Mando was still tense, hunched over a stack of crates as he gripped their edges. Was there anything you could do to ease his discomfort? You blushed at the thought of helping him. “How are you feeling?”
“Hot. My whole body aches, and…” He trailed off. A hard edge entered his voice, something sinister. “You need to leave. Go up to the cockpit, and lock yourself in. Don’t let me in no matter what I say or how much I beg. I’m losing control of my reason, and I’m afraid of what I’ll do to you.”
“Mando…”
“Go!” he yelled, and he had never yelled at you before, so you obeyed.
You climbed the familiar ladder in seconds and dashed into the Crest’s cockpit, punching the sequence on the keypad to close the door and lock it. You stumbled back and fell into the pilot’s chair, watching the door.
It was four inches of tough durasteel. There was no way he could break through. You were safe, as long as you listened to his command not to listen to him any longer.
How long would this drug last in his system? How long were you supposed to distrust the man you trusted more than anyone? How long would he be in agony, fighting the drug’s pull?
You hated this, really hated it. You were helpless, frightened, and he was probably more so. You wished your conditions had been swapped, wished you had been jabbed with a sex dart instead. If that had happened, Mando would have controlled the situation with his calm surety, easily held you off if you’d tried to jump him. But now, his superior height and strength were threats rather than comforts. There was no way you could stop him if he got in the room and decided he wanted to take you.
Did you want to stop him?
This could be the only chance you had to sleep with him, ever. You could write it off as helping him ease his discomfort. He might even thank you, a little embarrassed, in the morning before everything returned to normal and he never looked at you with lust again.
The minutes passed as you waited.
Heavy footfalls sounded outside the door, then the beep of buttons as he typed the code to open it. The door remained locked. Mando growled and pounded it with his fist. “Open up.”
“No.”
His voice lowered to a purr, and that sound, through the helmet’s slight mechanical distortion, made you weak. “Such a good girl. You listened to me. You always listen, do exactly what I ask. Well, listen to me now. I need you to open this door. When I told you to barricade yourself in here, I hadn’t known how bad the desire would be. I thought I could handle it myself, but it’s overwhelming. Please. I need you.”
You pulled up your knees to your chest and hugged them.
The sounds of rustling cloth and the slide of skin over skin indicated that Mando had pulled his cock out of his pants and was stroking it. He rasped your name. “Let me in. Please let me in. I’ll make you feel so good, baby.” When you didn’t answer, he banged a fist against the door. “I’m begging you. You have no idea how badly I want you.”
“You don’t really want me, Mando,” you said. “It’s just the drug talking.”
“It’s not.” He groaned, a filthy sound. “I’ve wanted you for months. It’s you I think about when it’s late and the ship is all darkness…”
What? That couldn’t be true. Mando was just saying whatever he thought would make you give in. He was trying to wear down your resolve.
“Please, help me. I can’t take this burning any more. I need to be inside you.”
You stood. Took a deep breath. Pressed the button to open the door.
It slid aside, and Mando was through, grabbing you and forcing you onto the floor. He settled on top of you, his weight nearly crushing. He hissed your name, so close you could hear it double, through the modulator and under the helmet, his true voice.
He took one moment to cup your breast, just lay there with you in his arms, and then he was dragging your overalls down your body. He pulled off your underwear too. “Lift your arms,” he ordered, and you did so he could pull off your shirt and the fitted undershirt that held your breasts in place.
And you were naked, and he was still mostly clothed, saving for the hard line of his dick pressing against your leg. The contrast was exquisite, vulgar.
“Gods,” he cursed, running his hand down your side, squeezing your thigh.
You couldn’t help wondering how much of his attraction was due to the drug and how much was real, but you resolved not to dwell on it and just enjoy yourself as much as possible.
Mando spread your legs and delved his hand between them, broad pads of his fingers rubbing your clit and sliding through your folds. His head rested against the floor next to yours, and you heard more than felt his ragged breath. “How does this feel?” he asked.
“Good—ah!” The word turned into a gasp as he slid a thick finger inside you. You shifted, squirming, trying to escape the sensation and get more of it at the same time.
He pushed in deeper, then dragged his finger out in a steady rhythm. Another finger joined the first, stretching, brushing the roof of your cunt with a friction that made your toes curl.
You clenched his arm, wanting him to never stop.
“I think you’re wet enough now.” He pulled out his fingers slowly, tilting his visor down to view the string of slick stretching to your cunt. It glistened, thin as silk. Without further hesitation, he lined himself up and pushed into you.
You both groaned, not quite in unison, but overlapping.
“You’re so tight,” he said. He started fucking you—forceful, demanding.
He was too big to be going at it this hard without letting you adjust to the stretch, but you laid there and took it until the strain turned into pleasure. You closed your eyes and let yourself be swept up in the tide of sensation.
The cockpit floor was not made for being fucked on. It was hard and cold as stone, and you knew it would leave bruises. The space was cramped; it hadn’t exactly been designed with lots of laying-down room. If you shifted too far to the left your head would bang into a chair.
“Is this helping at all?” you asked, wondering about his aphrodisiac-fueled sex drive.
“It’s … it’s certainly helping. I don’t feel like I’m in pain anymore. But the desire hasn’t gone away. I want more of you.” To prove it, he straightened, pulled your hips up, and plowed into you harder, the new angle making you whimper.
His helmet was tilted back, and you could almost picture his mouth hanging open, eyes glazed over. But you couldn’t really, because you had no clue what he looked like under there. Was his hair short or long? Curly or straight? What color were his eyes?
“There is so much I want of you,” he groaned, tilting his visor back down so it seemed he was looking at the place where his cock disappeared over and over again. Dark hair surrounded the base, and the sliver of skin you could see was olive, matching his hands. “I want more than I’ve ever imagined, and I astound myself for never having imagined it. I want to feel your lips on mine, soft and warm. I want to kiss down your neck, kiss your perfect breasts.” He took one hand off your hip to palm your breast, squeezing. “Scrape across your nipples with my teeth. And travel lower.” He slid his hand down the center of your belly until he thumbed your clit.
You jolted.
“I want to mouth you between your legs, holding you down as I lick pleasure from you. I want to hear your moans, feel your thighs clench around my head—to hold you down as you finish and drink you up.”
Heat flashed deep in your stomach. “But, your helmet, the Way…”
“Fuck the Way.”
And your heart shattered because you knew with certainty that this wasn’t really him. The Mandalorian would never be so disrespectful toward his creed. Nothing he was doing or saying was real; it was all the drug.
But somehow, that made it better. The conflict in you melted away to a sort of resigned pity. You didn’t have to agonize anymore about what this interaction meant for your future. It meant nothing.
“Gods, I want to taste you,” he rasped. Your hips dropped to the ground as he fell forward, supporting himself on one hand. He didn’t stop fucking you even as he reached up to his helmet with the other.
“No!” You couldn’t let him unmask himself, no matter how curious you were to see his face, to make eye contact without having to guess where his eyes were beyond the visor. With all your strength, you rolled both of you over, grabbing his wrists and pressing them to the ground beside his head.
He whispered your name.
“I won’t let you take off your helmet, Mando.”
He could have fought you off. He could have easily escaped. But he let you fuck him, twisting your hips so your clit rubbed against his pelvis, and kept his hands dutifully on the floor. “I can’t think,” he admitted, desperate and quiet and shaken. “I just want. I want to kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t.”
“Kiss me with your hands.” You guided them onto your body, trying to distract him.
He dragged them over your torso, exploring. You wished you could tell where he was looking, but it was enough to feel his attention through his fingers. He lingered on the curve of your waist, the crease where your leg met your hip, and the dip below your breast. He tweaked your nipple then rubbed it with his thumb, taking away the sting.
Finally, two fingers met your lips, pressing just hard enough to part the lower. You opened your mouth and darted your tongue out, licking their tips. He groaned and slid them into your mouth all the way to the base knuckle. You sputtered at the intrusion, then sucked hard, swirling your tongue as best you could. You hoped he was thinking about replacing his fingers with his cock.
“Look at you. Fucking beautiful.” He dragged his fingers out of your mouth and down your chin, leaving a trail of saliva. In an instant, he had flipped you back over and rammed into you. His hips pounded furiously against the back of your thighs; the rough canvas of his pants, pulled down just enough to free his cock, chafed your skin. But you loved it. “I have the implant,” he said. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum until it leaks out of you.”
Your walls clenched at his words and the friction of his cock. You panted, grabbing at his back and holding him close as your climax built to a peak and crashed through you. For several moments you rode the high, then it eased down in waves like water settling in a bowl.
Mando grunted, losing his rhythm. Warmth filled you as his hips stuttered and he released a ragged, “Fuck.” He collapsed.
That had been better than all your private fantasies, even with the uncomfortable setting and strange origin. If only it could have lasted longer.
After half a minute or so, Mando climbed off you and tugged you to your feet. “Let’s go down to my cot.”
Astonished, you noticed his erection. “You’re hard again!”
“It’s still there.”
The drug hadn’t been satisfied with a release; it still needed to run its course for who knew how long. Well, you could fuck him for as long as his artificial desire lasted. “Another round?”
“Please.”
---
You snuck out of his bed early in the morning, before Mando woke. You didn’t want to face him as he remembered what had transpired between the two of you, how you’d made fierce love for hours. You didn’t want to see him stiffen, wait for you to get the hint to leave.
You cleared your discarded clothes out of the cockpit and brought them back to your bunk. You changed, grabbed a ration bar from the supply, and ate it in your favorite hidey-hole: a crawlspace for accessing the Crest’s mainframe. There weren’t many places for privacy on a ship this size.
You’d never been claustrophobic—the opposite, in fact. Small spaces comforted you, made you feel grounded and secure. You weren’t hiding from Mando (okay, maybe a little), you just needed to clear your head.
It hadn’t been cleared by the time he found you. Of course, he knew all your favorite spots. He pried open the hatch and peered into the darkness that blinked with dozens of colored buttons. His helmet was silhouetted in the hatch opening against the room’s light.
“Are you going to fire me?” you asked.
“What?” he asked, taken aback. “No. Listen, that was an impossible situation I put you in last night. I want to apologize.”
“Oh.”
“Would you come down here so we can talk?”
You crawled out and followed him down the ladder built into the wall, wincing at the ache that flared between your legs.
He noticed. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He retreated as far as the room would let him and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He looked the same as ever: cool, self-assured, covered head-to-toe in armor. “First of all, I’m sorry for being so rough with you, sorry for, for all of it. Let me know what I can do to make it up to you.”
“Sweets from Coruscant.”
“What?”
“That’s what you can get me to make it up to me. I’ve always heard that Coruscant makes the best candy, and I want to try some.”
You could almost see the corner of his mouth turning up as he marginally relaxed. “It will be done.”
You pulled yourself onto a crate, letting your legs dangle, as you were reassured that he wouldn’t hold last night against you.
“Secondly, thank you for being with me through that. It was frightening to lose control, but you were … You were …” He didn’t seem to know what you were. “And thank you for preventing me from removing my helmet. I would have regretted it forever.”
Right. Of course it made sense that he would regret giving up his Way just for a night with you—that was why you had stopped him after all—but something about hearing him say it hit you in the gut.
“No,” he noticed your face, “it’s just that, if I do take it off for good, I want it to be on my own terms, not while I’m under the influence.”
You stared at him, trying to read more, but he looked toward the ground. An awkward silence hovered.
“If I were gentler with you,” he stopped, then started again. “It was true, what I said about having wanted you for months. I’m sorry it had to come out like that. But if you are somehow still interested, I’d like to try again, without a sex potion making me crazy.”
You beamed. “I would love that.” Finally, you were getting a chance to be with him, for real. “But, would you ever have told me that you were interested if it hadn’t been for the drug?”
“Probably not.”
To think, you might have carried on for months or even years never learning that he liked you back. You were glad, all of a sudden, for everything that had happened, or else you might never have known.
Mando crossed and slid carefully between your legs.
You placed a hand on his chest. “Maybe wait a little while before getting in my pants again. You fucked me pretty raw last night.”
He leaned forward, cupping your face and pressing your foreheads together. “It won’t be the last time,” he promised.