Chapter Text
“We sincerely appreciate the help your planet has provided.” Axe Woves’s voice was accompanied by an amicable smile as he clasped forearms with the man next to the freighter ship. The Nite Owl schooled his expression, noticing the lack of vigor in the other’s grip. Best not to let his attitude ruin an alliance. He’d much rather the Armorer throw him to the Forge’s flames than face the wrath of Bo-Katan.
“Of course. Your leader did a great service to our people, and your forces offered us protection. I speak on behalf of all of Plazir that this is the least we can offer.” The representative from Plazir-15 was an odd sort, looking out of place in his flashy clothing. The lavender silk of his embellished suit was pristine and strange next to the armored Mandalorians. The scratched paint in their armor proudly displayed souvenirs of battle, and those whose faces were bared wore the evidence of hard days of labor as they worked tirelessly to rebuild their world.
Axe’s eyes glanced in the direction of Koska Reeves as she helped droids unload the last crates of building materials, directing fellow Mandalorians as they retrieved the supplies with a grateful nod. Years at her side told Axe there was a hint of worry hidden in her intense expression. He excused himself, wishing Plazir’s representative a safe journey before trotting to Koska’s side.
“I’ll never understand those people,” he whispered with a glance over his shoulder as the loading ramp retracted into the ship. “Too pompous for my taste.”
“We don’t need to understand them to appreciate their help,” Koska snorted back. She called out to another woman, a Child of the Watch, and handed the crate to her. “But I need to find Bo-Katan.”
“What’s the rush?” Axe lengthened his stride as she jogged forward. His friend and clanmate glanced over her shoulder, taking stock of her surroundings before pausing, allowing him to catch up before lowering her voice.
“Most of that crew were droids… but there were a couple humans in the crew that were discussing an assassination attempt.”
Axe’s eyes flew open as they both quickened pace again. “On who?”
Koska sighed heavily, fixing her dark stare to his steely gray one.
“The Duchess and Duke of Plazir-15.”
—-
Axe and Koska found Bo-Katan on the edge of the training field, watching fondly as Din Djarin was in the middle of working with the children as they sparred. He wasn’t the only adult in the ring, but the kids always seemed to gravitate to him despite his stoic nature. Many were willing to bet it was due to Grogu’s presence in their midst softening his buir.
That or it was Grogu’s giggles as other kids watched his dad in awe giving him away.
Koska Reeves had known it from the day they met the man on Trask. Bo-Katan was her best friend, her blade sister. They had lived and fought together for years on end. There wasn’t a piece of the other’s body they didn’t know, and though armor kept a Mandalorian from flaunting their marks, they were comfortable sharing their own. Koska’s own resided on the side of her left hip, extending to the middle of her thigh. Many had joked that Axe bore her own match, but she was certain that was wrong — and if it wasn’t, then Koska would likely kill him on principle.
She’d smirked at Bo as they’d separated from Din with the freighter he’d helped capture, nudging her arm right where she knew the mudhorn and owl resided under her beskar and flight suit. The redhead had glowered at her, and it took Koska’s entire soul to not laugh. If it hadn’t been confirmed by the signet inlaid in his beskar, it was when Bo-Katan refused to challenge him for the Darksaber. While Axe had sneered at the man’s name, willing to put money on the zealot being unmarked and doomed to walk alone for his lifetime, Koska had slid credits towards the opposite.
When the clans came together to retake Mandalore, the Nite Owls were shocked to find the Children of the Watch had their own bets going. It was then she’d had the confidence to up her bet. All Mandalorians could see it when they stepped off the Gauntlet the day their leader returned from a job with him, and though those betting against them groaned as Koska and, surprisingly enough, the Armorer, took the winnings, they silently celebrated them and the bond they shared, the marks forging something far stronger than vows could hope.
“Bo-Katan!” Koska’s voice roused their Mand’alor from her thoughts.
“Koska, Axe,” she greeted as the two jogged towards her.
“We have news. Koska heard something you may want to be aware of while the Plazirians were unloading materials.”
Bo’s brow furrowed, the scar on her temple shifting with the movement. Something must’ve alerted her mate, because in an instant Din Djarin was beside her. Koska not only marveled at their connection, but wondered how such a man could be so stealthy in broad daylight and shining beskar. Her friend’s green eyes were serious, concerned. “Yes?”
“I heard amongst some crew members that there are rumors of an assassination attempt on the Duke and Duchess of Plazir-15.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure. Soon. Axe heard the captain mentioning some big celebration in regards to an election.”
Din and Bo-Katan looked towards each other, and even though she knew nothing of the man’s face, Koska knew his eyes were locked on Bo’s, engaged in a silent conversation only they could understand. Within moments, Din gave a rushed thanks before turning to collect Grogu, and the Mand’alor clapped her friends on the shoulder.
“Thank you. Please relay to the Armorer that we will return as soon as we can.”
“I’ll head to the Forge now,” Axe muttered to Koska, backpedaling hurriedly but staying in earshot as she called to them.
“Wait! Where are you going?!”
The pair had joined again, Din carrying Grogu a few paces ahead of Bo. They turned as one, and that awe resurfaced in Koska’s mind and heart. Bo-Katan looked solemn, but her voice was matter of fact.
“To Plazir-15.”
—-
Plazir was buzzing with energy from the moment Din, Bo-Katan, and Grogu stepped off of the Gauntlet. Even the technicians and droids at the landing pads seemed to have a lilt in their voice and a skip in their step. The planet’s suns seemed to shine a little brighter, and the domed city seemed to sparkle under their rays.
Not long after breaking Mandalore’s atmosphere, they’d received a comm from the Duchess and Captain Bombardier themselves, formally inviting them to the celebration of another successful large-scale election, sealing the royals’ place on their thrones for another term. They were certain they would be delighted at the acceptance of their offer, but they certainly agreed they couldn’t keep the royals in the dark. It was with this intent that the Mandalorians made their way to the palace first, even the AI in the hyper loop pod brightening as their chain codes were scanned before obliging their request.
“How do you think they’ll react when they learn they’re being targeted?” Bo-Katan murmured close to his earpiece as the elevator ascended. Din hummed softly in thought, adjusting Grogu in his grasp as the kid squirmed and cooed excitedly as he remembered this place.
“Not sure. I don’t see them halting their festivities, though.”
Bo sniffed, half in amusement, half from exasperation that they would put themselves and possibly their people in danger. “Neither do I. Guess it’s a good thing we’re here.”
Din chuckled lowly, the sound just as musical through the vocoder of his helmet as it was raw and unaltered, and his smile flashed in her mind as he spoke. “I guess so.”
The chime of the elevator declared their destination had been reached, and Grogu squawked and squirmed in his father’s arms as they entered the grand banquet hall. The Duchess, dressed outrageously and immaculate as always in a shimmering gown, was conversing animatedly with droids as they placed decor on the long table. Everything in the room caught the midday light shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Crystalline chandeliers and trim sparkled like stars amongst the galaxy, contrasted by ribbons and runners of an iridescent cloth that seemed to shift between deep violets and blues to warm oranges and golds like those of a vibrant sunset.
Grogu cooed excitedly at the sight of the beautiful duchess, and the monarch froze momentarily before facing their direction, her expressive face lighting with recognition as she laid eyes on the trio hailing from Mandalore. The kid finally managed to slip Din’s grasp and launched himself off of his cuirass, landing in the Duchess’s arms with excited babbles and a blinding smile.
“I apologize on his behalf, your majesty,” Din sighed, offering the Duchess a reverent nod. “He’s been excited since we got your message.”
“Oh! No apologies necessary! I missed this sweet baby immensely!” She crooned. “It is wonderful to see you, Lady Kryze, Lord Djarin. We’re delighted you were able to accept our invitation!”
Bo-Katan stifled a laugh at the way she knew Din’s face twisted at being called a Lord. It would do no good to correct them. Besides, he had little choice when his soulmate was the Mand’alor. She returned the kind smile, appreciating the way the Duchess greeted the pair with a clasped forearm, her manicured hands firm.
“We are glad we could accept. However, there are some… pressing matters that we would like to discuss with you and your husband.” Bo made it look so easy, conducting herself in this proper manner, confident and poised and always knowing what to say. Din would never be jealous. Neither of them were made for politicking. But he was glad it was her. His own temper was far too short for this type of thing.
He also took pleasure in knowing that the deadly and beautiful Mand’alor Lady Bo-Katan Kryze bent under his hands, unraveled under his body in a way that was anything but proper.
The Duchess’s brow furrowed, and she told the droids to continue decorating the hall before leading them to the balcony where Captain Bombardier’s booming voice cheerfully weighed in on the city center below, where more preparations were being made.
“Oh darling!” The Duchess called, her singsong voice better than the upbeat classical music playing throughout the banquet hall. The boisterous man straightened before she finished speaking, their connection akin to Din and Bo's, the one that was as natural to them as breathing. The Duchess reached for his arm, which he offered immediately. “The Mandalorians would like to speak with us concerning…” Her dark eyes fluttered their way under their long lashes and painted lids, and Din made sure they were out of earshot of the other workers and droids before speaking.
“It came to our attention while your freighter was dropping materials off on Mandalore that you both are being targeted for assassination,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice even as he bore this news to their allies, their friends, if they were being lenient with the word.
The Duchess and Bombardier flinched slightly, but sighed. The Duchess’s grip tightened on her husband — her mate’s — arm, and with a pang Din wondered if these rumors had circulated before. Behind his visor, his eyes fell on Bombardier’s Amnesty Program pin on his collar. The idea of living without Bo-Katan, or even his own life causing her own to end, was unbearable, and she must have thought something similar, because they subtly moved closer together.
“We don’t have much information, but we know it is being plotted during the Election Celebration tomorrow night,” Bo-Katan continued. “A few of my Nite Owls alerted me and we immediately came this way.”
Their shoulders sagged in relief.
“Well,” the Duchess sighed, “We hate that the invitation has turned to work… We were looking forward to having our Mandalorian friends celebrate with us.” They paused, and Grogu’s ears drooped as he sensed the royals saddening before him.
“Unless,” Bombardier muttered. He picked his head up animatedly, a finger waving for effect. “Unless you do join us.”
Bo-Katan shifted. “I am not sure I follow, your majesty.”
“You both can join the festivities, undercover,” he continued. “Mandalorian armor is eye-catching, but if you set aside the armor, and the helmet for you, M’Lord… The public celebration is city-wide. No one would be any the wiser.”
“Armor is a part of our culture, you said that yourself when we first met,” Din interjected, his frame going stiff at Bo’s side.
“Din,” Bo warned. “It’s just an idea.” Her dignified tone halted his sudden anxiety. The royals had flinched at his tone, Grogu narrowing his eyes at his father, and Bo-Katan considered both of them and her mate for a moment, thinking. The ex-Imperial Duke had a point.
“But you’re right. Mandalorian armor in a crowd of people is noticeable. The assassins are likely choosing the celebration to make a statement, but they are among your citizens. If they see heightened security they may be deterred, but they will only postpone if they’re serious,” Bo began explaining. “If we are plainclothed, then they will believe only your standard security are on guard.” A slight smile tugged at one side of her lips. “I think that may work.”
“I think this is a wonderful idea, should you be willing. We can provide attire for you both and arrange hair and makeup for you, Lady Kryze.” The Duchess’s excitement had returned, her mate’s animated smile creeping up once more. Bo-Katan took a look at her mate, then the royals, and straightened.
“This will be up to me, actually. Din walks a more… traditional way than I, so he-“
“I will not let you take this alone,” Din interrupted assertively while straightening beside her. “I’ll do it.”
—-
The afternoon passed in a blur.
The monarchs had gushed reverently over the Mandalorians, thanking them profusely for their willingness to keep them safe before directing them to their hotel. Grogu grinned and waved cheerfully to his parents as they left, knowing damn well he wouldn’t have to lift a finger while they worked.
They had already been provided the best available suite on the top floor of the closest and most upscale hotel. Neither of them were surprised to step into an extravagant suite, dripping with luxury and potential of pleasure. Their boots sank into plush white carpet, and even in clean flight suits and glistening armor, the Mandalorians looked scruffy, dirty against their surroundings.
Beyond the sitting room, complete with a fully stocked wet bar, velvet couches, and an electric fireplace, was a bedroom with windows for a wall, giving a beautiful view overlooking the domed city. The massive and inviting bed was adorned with extravagant pillows and covered in lush bedding in soft neutral colors.
The bathroom was nearly as large as the bedroom. The marbled floors gleamed in the warm natural light, iridescent tiles sparkling from behind the shower glass. The shower was set to allow water to cascade from the ceiling, and the bathtub was larger than some swimming pools. Another huge window bordered the tub, but they could see where blinds could extend from the ceiling for privacy. A door to a closet half the size of the sitting room sat just inside that from the bedroom, their bags dropping unceremoniously in the massive space.
They’d spent about five minutes looking around the suite, survival engrained so deeply within them that even this luxurious space demanded a once over, before a knocking sounded at the door. Bo-Katan immediately took the initiative, grateful she did when she opened the door to a butler droid.
It was a chipper little thing, and it spoke with that same excitement that the planet teemed with, anticipating the festivities of the next day. She knew Din would’ve frowned and closed the door in its face, insisting that the Duchess had informed them of the evening’s schedule, seething in distrust even at the harmless droid whose only task for the moment was to briefly inform them of their invitation to dinner.
Since the revelation on Aq Vetina, Bo had rarely ribbed her mate about his distrust of droids, and never minded interacting with them on their behalf. She knew he was better about them, save for the Battle Droids he shamelessly kicked the last time they were on Plazir, but it was an act of thought, and it kept a calm head on her mate’s shoulders.
The only one allowed to get him bent out of shape was her .
Bo made her way back into the bedroom. Din was lounging on the bed, helmetless, the hard surface of his armor a direct contrast to the plushness of the bedding. The edges of his mustache twitched as he smiled at her, pulling her close as she walked past to steal a kiss from her lips. Bo dug her weight in to thwart his attempts of trying to tug her body onto the bed, knowing they wouldn’t leave if she gave in.
“I think we’re expected at dinner, Din,” she smirked against his lips.
“Something else sounds more appetizing.”
“Din Djarin,” she half scolded, the idea still sending tingling sparks through her body. As she pulled away he followed with a groan, rolling off the bed and grabbing his helmet from the dresser. “I’m surprised at you, cyar’ika ,” she blurted out.
“Why is that?”
“You’re so defensive about your creed. The fact that you’re willing to break that to keep the royals safe was surprising.”
“I…” Din bit his lip as he tried to find the right words to justify the change of heart. “It’s hard, breaking the Way you’ve always known. But, after all,, we are one. That means we walk the same paths. You walked mine for a time. It is time I returned the gesture, if only for a day.”
He gave her a loving smile and pressed a firm, open kiss to her mouth, tongue teasing at her lips for a breath before stepping past her with an affectionate brush of the shoulder and hiding his face once more behind shining beskar.
It took everything Bo-Katan had to keep from ripping his helmet off of his head and taking her chance to kiss him back.
—-
The gathering of people in the hall was smaller than the one they’d walked into on their first visit to Plazir, but it was equally amicable and diverse in species. Fine wines and liquors flowed freely into crystalline glasses. Hors d’oeuvres of all types littered fine gilded trays down the long table, fitting the customs and dietary preferences of various different species. Music more upbeat than the usual classic accompaniment thrummed in the background.
Grogu squealed excitedly from where he was playing a game with the monarchs, waving to his parents enthusiastically but making no plans to move from the Duchess’s side. Both Din and Bo-Katan were certain there were treats involved.
“Ah! Lady Kryze, Lord Djarin!” Bombardier boomed. “Let’s get you two some drinks!” The boisterous monarch called over a skittering droid with drinks on its tray. He selected two frosted glasses of amber liquid and snatched a straw from the tray “Tevraki Whiskey,” he declared, handing them the drinks.
The liquor was sweet and spicy on Bo-Katan’s tongue, and it went down as smooth as the Coruscant Wine she and Din had shared in the cabin on Nevarro. She stifled a giggle as Din tilted his helmet, and she could see his brows arching in satisfaction in her mind’s eye before taking another drink through the straw.
Dinner was brought in on massive platters. Meats of various origins and sides of all types were hefted by droids, and it was with great eagerness that they were ushered to their seats. The chattering voices were replaced with contented moans as the guests began eating, and Din gave the impression of stoicity as he sat idle, snacking on a few things that he could sneak under his helmet. He was thankful Bo-Katan didn’t call him on the fact that he would be forgoing it the next day. She probably would’ve, but she was currently in light conversation between bites. Her glass of whiskey nearly drained, and Din could see where her lips had smudged the glass.
A large gloved hand snatched the glass, meeting her eyes as the movement caught her attention and maintaining eye contact as he shimmied his helmet up enough to place his lips in the same place as hers and drain the glass of the sweet and spicy alcohol.
Bo gave a sigh of exasperation at her mate, wishing she could set aside the hypnotizing way his throat moved from what she could see between the half-raised helmet and dark cowl as he swallowed.
“So this festival is a celebration of the recent elections?”
“Yes. We have recently elected some new positions and crew goals for the next year, and many leaders are celebrating reelection!” Bombardier grinned. His mate’s eyes glittered as brilliantly as the decor in the hall, fond and warm as she gazed at the stout bearded man.
“We’re honored and humbled to celebrate the latter for ourselves, but we’re having this celebration for the whole of Plazir. Our democracy would be obsolete if not for our people.”
“So what events will take place tomorrow?” Din’s voice startled Bo slightly, and she noticed he’d retrieved another glass of whiskey for each of them off a passing droid’s tray.
She felt a gloved hand cross her thigh and flinched awkwardly, grateful as she noticed that no one paid them any mind. She took a deep breath and shifted her eyes to the left towards Din, who kept his torturous crawl going until he reached the apex of her thighs. Heat pooled in the wake of his hands, smoldering insistently as they moved. She reeled at his sudden boldness, her breath hitching as he applied pressure, gentle and slow, and her body instinctively pushed into his fingers.
She wanted to strangle Din as he stealthily removed his hand and clasped it with his other on the table, acting as if he was suddenly enthralled with the topic of conversation to his left.
“You’re going to regret this, Djarin,” she whispered breathily and in her mind she saw the way his mustache twitched when his lips pulled into that devilish smirk. He knew damn well it would send fire through her blood and damp heat seeping between her legs, and she bit back a frustrated growl. Bo-Katan was usually the more socially inclined of their family, their Clan, but the reigning Mand’alor was getting antsy for more reasons than one, and Din knew it She could feel the smug confidence radiating off her mate through his armor and she took a sip of her whiskey, her lips twitching in a smirk as she knew with certainty who would be in control tonight.
“The main celebration is down in the square below the palace, beginning at sunset. There will be food and libations for all, as well as dancing into the night,” the Duchess smiled. “As promised, we will supply the two of you with attire. If you are in need of dancing instruction, we can also arrange that. I understand different cultures place different priorities on it, but we do tend to have a marvelous turnout.”
“I think we’ll manage,” Bo smiled, smirking sideways at Din.
Understanding the implication, he tensed and almost choked on his whiskey, unsure if it was a blessing or a curse that he would be without his armor.
“Meet me at our personal quarters tomorrow morning, Lady Kryze. We will get your makeup and hair done. You’ll fit in perfectly,” the Duchess smiled. It widened as she looked at Grogu cooing happily on her arm. “Would you mind if we kept the baby tonight?”
Bo-Katan spoke before Din could.
“Grogu seems to enjoy your company, your majesty. It’s alright with us if he stays with you.”
Grogu chirped excitedly, loving the prospect of a slumber party with the Duchess and Bombardier. Din snorted as he threw back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and rose to his feet, Bo nearly in sync.
“We thank you for your hospitality, M’Lord, M’Lady.” Din nodded reverently as they stood.
“No thanks needed, M’Lord.” Bombardier’s grin eased into something more sincere. “It is the least we can do. You are our esteemed guests, and you are willing to put aside your own time at great personal risk.”
“We are Mandalorians, and you are our friends,” Bo smiled genuinely, glancing towards her mate. Din gestured to his son, ensuring his thoughts were indicative of letting him have his fun with the royals. Grogu sprung to him, babbling with glittering eyes.
“No harm will come to you. We will ensure it.” Din nodded in their direction, then lowered his helmet to Grogu. He chirped as he recognized the gesture and pressed his little wrinkled head against the beskar. “Behave, ad’ika . We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Grogu grabbed at Din’s helmet affectionately before springing out of his arms and into the Duchess’s while Din and Bo-Katan turned and made their way back to the bustling streets of Plazir. The bright lights glinted off of Din’s unpainted armor as they walked, and Bo couldn’t help but marvel at him. The beskar turned heads, and Bo felt herself straighten and looked up at him with admiration and desire before turning smug.
“Now. Let’s see what we’re working with for tomorrow.”
Din groaned irritably, and Bo-Katan met his frustration with a laugh, taking her mate’s elbow for a moment, a blatant display of her claim on him to anyone glancing their way. You can stare all you want. He’s mine.
She steered him into the hotel and towards the elevator. She really didn’t know what to expect, if she were being honest with herself, as they entered their suite. He’d teased her all evening, goading her with little actions that he knew would make her blood simmer blissfully. To his credit, he seemed to be calm, but she knew his patience would be thin.
Good. Let him wait.
Din placed his helmet on the bar and they removed their armor, gloves, and boots before he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the wet bar. Bo crossed the room in a blink, snatching his wrist before it could open the bottle. His dark eyes snapped to meet hers, and she grinned as she pulled him away from the bar and to her, satisfied in the way he followed her lead. She wondered if finally won as she took his hand and his arm, stepping seductively towards him. He followed the movement as she initiated.
Din wasn’t too lost of a cause, she found. He was rigid and hyper focused on her as she laid her hands on his arms and he took the lead. He was no natural dancer, not by any means. Neither was she, for that matter. She could hear the grinding in his mind as he overthought every step. It made his movements stiff and it frustrated her to no end. She was even partially convinced it was intentional and it made her want to push him down and make him comply.
But that was too easy, that was giving in, and she wasn’t relenting control after the way he kissed her, the way he touched her under the table.
“Din you’re stiffer than a beskar rod!” She grumbled exasperatedly as he clumsily led her across the sitting room. “You need to actually move .”
“I am , Bo,” he responded with irritation, trying to lead her through the steps she’d shown him again. She figured it was better than him stepping on her toes. She thanked the stars for the innate understanding of their own bodies, a trait that went hand in hand with being a warrior. His bare feet shuffled silently on the fluffy carpet and his movements were overcalculated, but his armor gave more than he did and it drove her a little crazy.
“Not well enough,” she ground out. “Again.”
Din bit back a snide response, taking her arms and holding her to his chest again. His walk flashed across her mind, the natural swagger in his gait fluid and proud, dripping with self confidence. If he could make such a natural movement so captivating, getting him to look convincing to anyone with eyes should’ve been easier than this.
An idea flashed across her thoughts, and as he brought her back to him, she pressed a hard kiss to his lips and reached to the zipper on his flight suit, slipping it down and yanking it from his shoulders quickly before pulling away from him. Din’s eyes flew open, jaw slacked, tongue poking past his lip, a growl rumbling in his throat as she bit her lip provocatively. He huffed a loud breath, his nostrils flaring at her.
He slowly removed his sleeves from his flight suit, tying them around his waist as he approached her again, her hands catching his before he could try to do the same to her. When she stepped to him, a hand sliding up his arm, his skin hot through her flight suit, his scarred and muscled torso melded smoothly against her. She gave him a devilish smirk.
That’s more like it.
Since the first night he’d taken her, over half a bottle of Coruscant Wine and a night to themselves in the cabin, he’d been addicted to her, never tiring of the fire her skin set when it connected with his. It made Bo beam with a possessive sort of pride, knowing her touch, her body was the only one that he would ever know intimately. For a man that many conceived to have no weaknesses, she knew one that could bring him to his knees every time and such was her and her alone.
It was this constant craving for her skin that broke the spell. Every time he spun her away or felt her hands slide down his arm as she moved, he brought her back to him as if he couldn’t breathe without her body against him. Din was leading her steps, but Bo-Katan was commanding his movements, her hands a lure, pulling his limbs in their wake. It was by no means perfect. He still tensed when he felt a movement go wrong, his hands still missed as she came back to him or slunk around him, but he was putty in her hands and his eyes were alight with desire.
Din twirled her to him, her back against his chest, and he ground his hips against her ass, a hand still intertwined with hers slowly dragging downwards, brushing past her breast before he spun her away from him, just before she could press herself back against his hardness. She smirked, knowing she was buying her time, waiting for him to think he’d won the honor of being on top tonight.
Her opportunity came quicker than she thought. Her heart soared at the affection and desire in his eyes, the tender way he touched her as their bodies danced to no music and their souls moved to the rhythm of their movements. But the way his muscles rippled under his scarred skin and rose in goosebumps under her bare fingers fueled the fire in her veins and sent wet heat to pool between her legs. He’d poked at this flame since before dinner, and it was about time he paid for it.
Din stepped into her space and instead of following his lead, she leaned into him, hooking a long leg around his hips, biting back a moan as she felt his heat against her, and before he could react, she rolled her hips against his. The sultry look in her eyes turned triumphant as the grinding contact tore a groan from his throat. Bo-Katan leaned into him a little more, one hand snaking up to the side of his face and through his hair.
Oh, her sweet mate was so predictable, leaning into the feeling of her fingers on his scalp, moving to press a kiss to her lips. Bo graciously allowed it, using the distraction to unzip the bottom of her flight suit, loosening her leg’s grip to maneuver it out from the confines of the rougher fabric. Din was aware of the movement, and she felt him twitch against her, his kiss getting rougher.
“You didn’t eat much at dinner tonight,” she whispered against his mouth.
He grumbled as he lunged for her lips again. “Helmet,” he rasped, his voice husky and rushed to spend the least amount of time broken from her kiss. “Wasn’t very hungry anyways.”
The hand in his hair curled at the roots, a downward tug sending him lower, his lips searching for hers and moving against air as she pushed him downwards. Her other hand pressed against the top of his head, and Bo felt power and heat surge through her as her mate knelt before her. Her bare leg had loosened its grip just enough to allow him to descend, and she let him have a moment to admire the bare expanse of skin, kissing the freckles and a stray scar or so, before she brought him close to her. Bo’s hands guided his head while her leg prevented him from moving away, and she felt herself quiver at the feeling of his hot breath through her smallclothes.
“You should still enjoy some dessert,” she crooned.
Din groaned as she ground her hips against his face, the scent of her arousal flooding his senses. He tasted the line of skin between her core and her leg with a languid tongue, and she sighed breathily as she felt his nose push the lacy fabric separating him from her folds. Bo-Katan moaned as he dove into the hot wet skin, licking and kissing her as if he’d been starved. He paused the movement of his lips to drag his tongue messily across her center before moving his lips as if he were kissing her mouth.
His tongue prodded against her entrance, lapping at her wet skin and tearing a moan from her. The sensation made her clutch his curls tighter, causing a thundering moan of his own to hum against her core and send a shiver through her body. She ached for the rough lapping of his velvety tongue slipping inside her for a moment as he shifted his focus, swirling the tip of his tongue around her bud. Bo’s breath hitched, and she threw her head back in a loud moan as he roughly closed his lips around the nerve-ridden nub and sucked.
Bo-Katan’s knee shook at the sensation, the rumbling of the echoed moan hummed against her center making her tremble, but he held her steady against him. Every sound she tore from him sent her closer to the edge, and every sound he took from her was met with an insatiable desire to hear more of the music her pleasure made. Despite the dominance she’d asserted over him, the adoration he harbored had allowed the stoic and reserved Mandalorian to bend to her will, his body, heart, soul bound to her in the same way that she was to him and wanting nothing more than to send her hurtling over the edge, then catch her and carry her gently on the way down.
Din released her with a smack before roughly lapping at her entrance again, his nose rubbing against where he’d sucked. Bo keened under his efforts, the weight becoming heavier on his shoulder and her standing leg trembling. He smirked against her, pressing his tongue hard against her, slipping inside as he licked and snarling as he nibbled gently at her nub before his lips closed again on her and sucked hard . Bo came with a cry of his name, her knuckles white as her fists clenched in his hair. Her vision went white, her muscles convulsing under her skin as fire flooded every last part of her body and his lips and tongue riding her through her climax.
As her high slipped away, her shaking leg was swept up from beneath her. She didn’t feel his strong arms reach to grab her, one sliding up her back as he caught her, tearing his mouth away from her with a smack as he eased her to the floor. He pressed a gentle kiss to her exposed thigh, another to her center, and one to her lips, her arousal soaking his lips and facial hair. Green eyes opened to his handsome face, love in his smile and desire in his dark eyes. Bo pressed a sweet kiss to Din’s lips before rolling out from under him and standing on shaky legs.
She could feel the confusion in her mate’s mind as she turned away, her flight suit still half on and panties still lopsided as she walked out of the room.
“Bo?” Din’s voice nearly made her laugh, husky with lust and lilted questioningly. “Where are you going?”
“To get ready for bed. I already had dessert at the palace, and we’ve got a long day tomorrow, cyar’ika, ” she smirked from the bathroom, and it took every fiber of her being to not bark a laugh as her beloved mate flopped noisily onto the soft carpet with a frustrated whine.
—-
The morning found them curled into each other, fading in and out of sleep, nestled in the heat of each others’ bodies and the heavy comforter as warm sunlight filtered through the wall of windows.
The denial from the night before long forgiven, Din gazed at her as she dozed, calloused fingertips gentle and soft on her sides, her skin. Her back was to him. Her usually smooth hair was mussed and disturbed from sleep, the sun’s rays turning the copper strands to a halo of fire. He nuzzled his face into the crux of her neck, his fingertips tracing lazily over the ink in her bicep.
Every single day for as long as he lived, he would question how the universe came to place this strong, beautiful woman in his life, in his arms. But to deem her his ? He didn’t know what he did to deserve it, but Din would live the rest of his days proving his worthiness, to ensure whatever power put the matching marks in their skin would never regret it.
Bo-Katan roused with more certainty than she had the past hour or so. Din’s fingers dusted down her arm to take her hand, and he pressed an adoring kiss to her knuckles. She rolled over to face him, gazing at the way the morning light illuminated his face and glinted in his dark brown eyes, turning them to rich pools of honey.
“Good morning,” she murmured groggily.
“Morning, cyar’ika” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead before pressing his own to her in a Keldabe. His eyes slid closed as Bo-Katan placed a hand on his cheek, her nails filing through the short beard along his jawline. “Can we just stay here?”
“I wish we could,” she breathed. Bo could tell he harbored some anxiety, and she couldn’t really blame him. He’d spent his entire life shielding his face, adhering to his creed. She’d struggled for a bit herself when she’d joined the Children of the Watch, unused to the restrictions regarding her face. But even then, her beskar was a second skin. She would never feel uncomfortable in it. But Din had lived most of his adult life in the safety of beskar, hidden behind his visor. He’d been nervous, vulnerable, for weeks after they’d shown their marks, and that was in the vicinity of his soulmate. Showing his face? Forgoing the walls of beskar that kept him safe in a dangerous galaxy, a dangerous life?
She understood Din and what he needed, and though he didn’t always voice his thoughts, she felt the gratitude in his gaze, his voice, his touch.
A knocking at the door tore their attention from each other, and Bo-Katan reluctantly pulled away to stand and adjusted the shirt she stole from Din, certain that a droid was waiting to give them the agenda for the day and wanting to avoid a strange droid’s presence igniting her mate’s temper.
“The only people who will know it’s you are the only ones who matter,” she smiled. “Besides…” Bo trailed off, leaning forward to give him a chaste kiss. “It could be fun.”
Din sighed, unable to help the chuckle that escaped from his throat. “It better be.”
—-
Bo-Katan arrived at the palace at midday, sharp, clad in a comfortable form-fitting clothes that the royals had provided. The droids were happy to escort her, teeming with just as much anticipation and excitement as the city did around them.
The Duchess had been overjoyed to see her, looking so casual out of her elaborate gowns, shimmering makeup, and her long braids loose. The silken robe she wore dipped low, and Bo-Katan could see the top of a tattoo peeking from her sternum.
Two beautiful human women set to work on their hair, their own already done up in extravagant updos, done by the Duchess’s hands herself. The monarch was chatty, at first engaging in small talk, excitedly fawning over her people and the preparations the city had made for the celebration.
Her attention was grabbed when the Duchess began speaking of Grogu’s hijinks, how he was exhilarated to play alongside them into the night and ready to inhale breakfast early in the morning, used to being up early with his parents. Bo knew that the monarchs didn’t understand his babbled language quite like she did, and especially not like Din, but at no point did the Mand’alor doubt that their kid was in capable hands with them. The two ruling women fell into a comfortable silence as they were primped, the hours passing with small talk and conversation before they separated to get dressed, and when she finally stepped into her dress, Bo didn’t quite recognize the woman in the mirror.
Her fiery hair had been pulled into a bun, held with a sparkling piece that was as decorative as it was functional. A few strands had been given a light, loose curl and were left to frame her face. The makeup on her face was light, the woman applying it gushing over how it would be criminal to cover the constellations of freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. Her sharp cheekbones were accentuated by light color, her eyes lined heavily and shadowed with a shimmering smoky hue that somehow made her eyes look greener.
The dress that had been chosen for her was perfect. The deep blue fabric was form fitting through her hips and relaxed as it went to the floor to allow her movement. The entire garment was adorned with an expanse of glimmering crystals that seemed to sparkle with their own light like the stars of the galaxy. The neckline plunged deep, and thin straps over her shoulder trailed to a deep open back. A high slit in the relaxed skirt exposed her left leg, but it stopped low enough to hide a blaster and a knife in a garter on her leg.
Her favorite thing about the entire thing was the way her tattoo was on full display. Though marks were usually not flaunted, especially under a Mandalorian’s beskar’gam , this was a special opportunity. Everyone would see the appeal of her mate, his kind eyes and handsome face and massive presence, and even if his was hidden, she bore the proof that Din was and would always be hers and hers alone .
Bo heard a feminine gasp behind her and turned to face the Duchess. Her hair had been pulled into a beautiful updo that was reminiscent of a twisted hive and adorned with crystalline pieces. Her smooth face had painted to perfection, not having much work to be done to achieve it. Her kind eyes were accented by shimmering pigments accenting both her features and the both beautiful and outrageous dress she wore. It was iridescent and glimmering with flecks of light, the fabric colored in deep violets and magentas. Deep cuts along her sternum and waist bared smooth skin, an elegant tattoo trailing through the exposed skin, a swirl of jagged and swirling lines intertwining and looping through her torso and ending along the sides of her neck, visible with her hair up. A hologram reminiscent of a flaming blossom radiated from her back, casting a soft light behind her features.
Bo tensed for a moment, thinking she would say something about the gown or the way her eyes were accentuated by the paint, or maybe about the scars on exposed skin while the Duchess’s was soft and unscathed. But her expressive eyes were fixed on her arm, soft and appreciative as she admired the only mark on her skin that had never caused her true pain.
“Your tattoo is stunning, Lady Kryze,” the Duchess breathed, a manicured hand reaching out but pausing, waiting for Bo-Katan’s nod of consent before touching her skin.
“Thank you, your majesty,” she breathed, unable to help the fond smile from forming as she thought of Din, knowing that the Duchess’s nail was tracing over the mudhorn’s side up towards the owl on its horn without having to look.
“If I may… Is this…” her voice trailed off as she tried to find the correct words to approach the topic. Bo-Katan smiled and answered for her.
“Yes. It is.”
“Would I be correct to guess that Din Djarin holds the match?”
Her smile widened before she could school her features. “That would be correct.”
“I knew it,” the Duchess giggled. “We may need to disguise it, though. It’s unique and I’d hate for someone who knew of your symbols to make the connection,” she sighed, and Bo nodded in understanding, disappointment flashing and vanishing in an instant. Makeup didn’t take away her prowess, her heritage. Makeup could never take away her mark.
The Duchess smiled knowingly as she gathered a brush and some paint-like makeup, the women who’d done their hair and makeup off to get ready themselves. “I knew it from the moment you arrived on Plazir in the search for your fleet. You move as one, you think as one, and though I had never met you, I knew. I admit I didn’t know how the Mandalorian people felt about the subject, and I knew that you had other motives. It wasn’t my place.”
Bo-Katan thought for a moment. “We didn’t know, then. I’m sure you’re aware that Din is of a more traditional belief system. We found the marks by chance. But we are considered one, and so he will not be breaking creed by adopting my own ways, even for a short time.”
“Have you seen his face? Or will today be the first?”
“I have.”
The Duchess thought for a moment, a soft smile on her radiant face as she applied makeup to the tattoo. “Would you have been able to pick him out amongst the crowd, not knowing what he looked like?”
Bo-Katan sighed, a loving smile on her painted lips as her gaze rose to meet the Duchess’s.
“I would know him blind.”
—-
There was a distinct difference between being nude and being naked.
Nudity was open, welcomed, privileged, perfect. It was a symbol of trust and respect and admiration. It was bare and a state of togetherness, toned and muscled bodies regarded with the same worth as gold or precious gems despite the scars littering the flesh. It was warm and loving, instinctive and human.
Nakedness was cold, vulnerable. To be naked was to be exposed and alone, unsafe and unprotected. It was forced and it was riddled with anxiety and unease, and it could be felt even when fully clothed.
Din Djarin felt naked.
The clothing they’d provided him was comfortable enough, but he was exposed without his walls of beskar around his body and face. The black long sleeve tunic and black pants likely carried a large price tag. A deep blue vest, accented with metallic embroidery that caught the light, had accompanied it, and it was shrugged unbuttoned over his shoulders. A large pocket had been sewn into the inside of it, a perfect fit for his blaster, and a knife was strapped to his ankle.
He’d never done this before, the whole “getting ready” thing. His version always entailed armor and weapons. Sure, Din had always been meticulous on cleanliness, knowing that spending most days outdoors and under the weight of full armor didn’t always bode well for one’s hygiene, he refused to fall into the disgusting states he’d seen throughout his travels. He’d kept his facial hair well groomed, his mustache always trimmed, the same care extended when he let his stubble grow into a short beard. He never let his hair get too long, the curls becoming unmanageable under his helmet if they grew too much.
Preparing to be seen by anyone other than his son and his mate was foreign, terrifying. How could he pretend to be any other man, one who spent his life with the light on his face?
“It’s just one night,” he sighed to himself, finally deciding to leave the offending curls that he attempted to arrange where they wanted to lay over his forehead and backing away from the mirror, knowing if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t muster the nerve to step outside. He’d placed his armor in the closet next to Bo’s, refusing to spare a glance at it lest he give into the temptation to forego this plan.
He knew he wouldn’t. He was a man of his word. But it was still overwhelming.
Din took a swig of the whiskey he’d left on the bar the night before and left the suite.
Din’s heart pounded as he walked the short distance from the hotel to the palace, feeling invisible and watched all at once, hyper-aware of every person in his sight and mentally reminding himself of the blaster in his vest. He thought his heart would burst as he walked into the palace’s foyer, hearing the voices of his mate, his ad , and their hosts all echoing in his ears.
Grogu cooed, alerting his mother and pointing excitedly to his buir, and the fire and worry was replaced with adoration as she faced him. The sight of Bo-Katan sent all of his anxiety packing as she laughed at something Grogu had babbled at her. The deep blue of her dress matched that of his vest and sparkled like stars with her movement, contrasting beautifully against her bared back and leg. The jewelry in her ears and around her neck looked like droplets of starshine, and the form silhouette and deep cleavage made his blood simmer. He clenched his fist for a moment to redirect bloodflow, knowing he didn’t have the lower half of his flak vest to hide behind. Her tattoo was on full display, and though he was not close enough to make out the details, they were crystal clear in his mind.
“ Haar’chak , cuy meshla ,” he breathed quietly, as she met him, taking his arm and leading him to the group.
“You clean up well yourself, cyar’ika ,” she grinned. Though it was selfish, she was over the moon to see the face of her mate in public, and if Din was being honest with himself, it warmed his heart to see her in the presence of others without the tint of the visor.
But something in his mind told him that a detail was off in this stunning picture that was Bo-Katan on his arm. The freckles on her face, her shoulders, her chest and back were all in place, and her green eyes sparkled. Her scar was hidden by makeup, but the ridge of it was still on her temple. Dark eyes scanned her arm, knowing it was more obvious than planned, and an inferno flared as he’d found it.
The owl and mudhorn, the crystalline ridges of Mandalore’s glassy surface were gone, replaced by some generic landscape of a mountain and water fading into the grasses and terrain. His shock must’ve been felt by Bo because she quickly explained.
“We need to have no connection that could be read into. It’s a precaution. And it’s just makeup. It’ll come off.”
It made sense, and he acknowledged that,but the possessiveness raging in his veins remained.. Their mark was a declaration to themselves, to everyone around them, to the galaxy and the universe at large that they belonged to each other. To hell with his creed, to hell with showing his face. He reached away from her elbow and across her back, gripping her hip to bring her against him. He’d take that makeup off of her arm later. In the meantime…
If the ink didn’t show that she was his , he would show it with his touch.
The royals’ eyes went wide as the Mandalorians joined them once more, but they relaxed to a calm warmth when Grogu squealed, reaching eagerly for his father, clawed hands grabbing at air and grinning wildly when the Duchess handed him over. The kid nuzzled under his jaw, giggling as Din’s short beard tickled his ears and head, his innocent smile contagious to the adults.
“Hey buddy,” Din chuckled, selfishly glad to be able to press a peck to the top of Grogu’s head.
The Duchess’s voice caught his attention, and Din was grateful the monarchs’ faces no longer reflected awe and that their eyes didn’t search his face.
“It appears we aren’t the only ones who are glad you are joining us tonight, Lord Djarin.”
Din was helpless to resist the way his face twisted in a grimace at the title, and Bo-Katan laughed despite herself at her mate’s inability to control his facial expressions. Confusion flashed on the Duchess and Bombardier’s faces, obviously reeling in concern that they offended their guests and protectors.
“I… I apologize,” Din bit his lip before continuing, sighing. “I mean no disrespect. I am not one for titles.”
“A humble man. I can respect that, M’Lord,” Bombardier grinned, pointing towards him enthusiastically and ignoring the twitch in Din’s eye before launching into the plan they’d created. Din and Bo-Katan would arrive ahead of time and blend into the crowd. The royals would arrive by nightfall, Grogu accompanying them at his father’s insistence.
Din released his grip on Bo’s hip as he held Grogu away to look him in the eye and gave his ad a direction to work out a signal with the royals and alert them to any ill intent, and he and Bo-Katan would break away from the crowd, and at Grogu’s affirmative nod, Bo pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Din butted his wrinkled forehead with his own before letting him into the Duchess’s arms once more.
His hand returned to Bo-Katan’s hip as they parted from the monarchs, his grip bruising as he kept her against him. She could feel the tension holding him, but she was certain it was not related to the mission, their son, or his creed. She smirked, his darkened eyes flashing across her mind as he’d seen her tattoo marred with the makeup.
“Tonight will be fun,” she grinned as they stepped outside to make the block before joining the forming crowd in the plaza. His huffed response only made her smile wider.