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Boba Fett’s day improved immensely when his riduur walked into his throne room.
Boba waved away the nobody who’d been begging for attention, leaving the front of his throne free. Din Djarin stalked straight up as though he’d expected nothing less. Today, Grogu was sitting on his shoulder, grinning wildly at the world.
“Looking for work or a break, cyare?” Boba asked after getting the slight nod that was Din’s usual greeting.
Grogu launched himself from his buir’s shoulder and landed on Boba’s lap.
“Hello there, ad’ika.” Boba listened to the child’s babble. There were near words in there these days, but it was still the body language that let Grogu communicate. Looked like they’d had a good hunt and were taking some time off. Good.
Boba gestured to his shoulder and Din sauntered up to the left of the throne and took guard position opposite Fennec.
These days there were a number of Mandalorians in Boba’s court. Kark, there was even a covert hidden down in the catacombs with their own armorer and a passel of foundlings. Mandalorians were no unusual sight in the court of Damyo Fett. But only one ever stood at Boba Fett’s left. When Din wasn’t on planet, the left of the throne stood open. Waiting.
Smiling contentedly under his buy’ce, Boba watched as Grogu studied the court. After a minute or so, Grogu waved over a surprised looking moisture farmer.
“Good call, kid,” Boba said softly before starting the conversation.
***
Fennec took the kid after court. She knew what Din not speaking a word meant. Well, not the specifics, but she knew it would be good to distract the kid for a day or so.
Safe in his quarters, Boba settled into the throne-like chair he’d had constructed just for this, for them. It was just as commanding, if a lot better padded. The real difference, however, was the privacy.
“Come here,” Boba ordered, enjoying how Din folded at the command, settling into Boba’s lap as he’d never dare in the throne room. “Look at you. All wound up. I wonder how many others in my throne room could see how you were gagging for it.”
Not a single one, Boba was sure. No one else had ever seen Din in the throws of passion or begging to come. But Boba knew every one of his riduur’s moods, inside or outside the armor. And Din shuddered at the thought, grinding his rock hard cock into Boba’s beskar’gam.
“Think you’re wound up enough to get off twice tonight?” Boba shifted his thigh to push his moten’bur harder into Din’s balls.
Finally Din made a noise. Not a word, and too soft for his vocoder to really pick it up. No one else might have caught it, but Boba knew that sound. That was a whimper.
“Are you?” Boba pushed, grabbing Din’s hips and pulling him down, holding him still. He knew his riduur. Knew his sounds, his preferences, his fantasies. But he needed confirmation. That was their agreement.
No words. Clearly Din wasn’t verbal tonight. But finally his buy’ce nodded and for a moment Boba could feel their eyes meet.
“Good. Come for me. Just like this.” Boba felt a swell of arousal as Din whimpered again and began rutting frantically against Boba’s armor. Boba’s father’s armor. Ka’ra. It was perverse and ecstatic all at once. This powerful warrior, one of the best in the galaxy, still in his hard skin, desperate for what Boba would give him.
Boba dug his fingers in, gripping that sweet ass. As Din bucked and ground into Boba, Boba shifted his grip further back until he could press his finger tips into Din’s crack through his kute, seeking to tease and make Din think of Boba filling him even while fully dressed. Boba wondered about the days when Din had had his covert only; how often he’d just only pulled down his pants enough to get fucked, or pulled out his cock and fucked someone, beskar’gam banging away between them.
Had any of them had enough true beskar in their beskar’gam to chime as Boba’s and Din’s did now, Din’s shar’tas ringing against Boba’s hal’cabur as he rutted desperately?
“Stars, cyare. Look at you. How can anyone miss how desperate you are? Desperate and beautiful. Running around the galaxy so needy.”
Din twisted his head away even as he continued his frantic rutting.
“Ah, no. None of that.” Boba caught the bottom of Din’s buy’ce with one hand, brushing the tips of his gloved fingers against Din’s chin as he brought him back to look at Boba. “You are mine. My cyare. Mine to tease and torture. You get off here with me and only with me.”
Kark, Boba loved that whimper. This time it was loud enough for the vocoder to enhance.
“I get to think about what everyone else is missing out on. And you don’t hide from me.” Boba put heat and command into his words and tugged down at the bottom of Din’s buy’ce, pressing the beskar into that pretty face.
Din let out a punched out moan and grabbed Boba’s shoulders, clinging as he thrust twice more and came with a whimper. He held tight for a moment longer before melting against Boba’s body. It was amazing how liquid a fucked out Mandalorian could get.
Kark, that was fun. But Boba was ready for round two.
Blasted sarlacc damage often meant Boba couldn’t get it up. However, the human mind was an excellent sexual organ, and Din had a very fine cock. Boba was looking forward to sitting gingerly tomorrow.
“Beautiful, cyare.” Boba stroked Din’s sides and shoulders until a little tension returned to that great frame.
Once it looked like Din had some muscle function, Boba pushed his riduur to his feet. “Up,” he commanded. “Armor off. I want to spread you out on the bed and play a bit before round two.”
The faint shiver under Din’s armor made it clear the other man was all for this plan. But his hands went for Boba first, pulling Boba to his feet and then removing his armor.
Din didn’t say a word, but Boba knew he was chanting in his mind. Boba echoed the words of thanks that he had memorized after years of listening to Din chant them each evening they spent together. Thanks to the armor for protecting his riduur through the day, for its service to the people and tribes. It was a beautiful interpretation of the Resol’nare and Boba often wondered what other branches of Mandalorians had such a tradition.
Boba let Din remove each piece of armor from the top down, setting them on the armor stand designed just for them. He let Din have control until Boba was standing barefoot in just his Tusken robes. Then Boba took control.
He maneuvered Din by the other armor stand, the one made for Din’s incredible armor. Then Boba dropped to his knees and pinned Din in place with a look. It was enough to make Din shiver until his armor clattered lightly. Boba grinned as he slowly started removing Din’s armor, chanting the same ritual of thanks, from the bottom up. Each piece fit into its place on the stand, boots, tadun’bur, bes’lovik, motun’bur. No ven’cabur to block Boba nuzzling up against Din’s still half hard cock. He mouthed at the damp fabric, hands on Din’s hips to direct the other man just right. The musky scent, spend and dust and days without a sonic, made Boba’s mouth water.
“Up,” Boba finally commanded. The stone floor had stiffened him just enough that aid was welcome. Once on his feet, Boba worked through the rest of Din’s armor, pressing a kiss to the mudhorn on his riduur’s bes’mabur in thanks for the clan they now shared. Boba wore the mudhorn painted beside his buir’s mythosaur. Din wore the mythosaur in paint, his only paint.
But that was a short delay, and Boba soon had the flack vest and its connected front and back plates over Din’s head, leaving him in just his kute and buy’ce. Some might consider Din exposed now, lesser without his beskar plates. Boba knew different. Din was every bit the warrior with or without his armor. That he chose to be this bare before Boba brought shivers to his skin every time it happened. And warmth to his shriveled old heart.
Boba met Din’s gaze and considered a moment, remembering Din’s shyness earlier. Boba left the buy’ce for now. He went for the kute instead, slowly releasing the seals and spreading the fabric to expose Din’s skin and scars.
And the mythosaur tattoo over Din’s left hip. It gave Boba a thrill every time he saw it.
A few bruises mottled Din’s skin as well, but they were already yellowing. Nothing that indicated deeper damage. Good. “An easy hunt.” Boba liked to think Din would let him know if he was injured, but Boba knew better from experience. Atin. Stubborn. That was Din. And he’d learned a lot of bad habits in his years alone.
Din hummed an agreement and let his kute slide from his narrow hips. His chin dipped, drawing Boba’s eyes down to the delicious display. Boba had left red marks on Din’s hips earlier, and Din’s cock was half hard and throbbing with Din’s rapid heartbeat. So tempting. Boba would happily return to his knees and worship every inch, drive his riduur to peak again. But Boba wanted Din spread out in the bed, and not just because it was easier on his knees.
That just left one question. Boba gently gripped the edge of Din’s buy’ce and waited. They’d left it on more than a few times. Sometimes Din wasn’t ready to let it go. But tonight, after a long moment, the hiss of the pressure release echoed out and Din ducked slightly, the point of his scruffy chin coming into view. Delightful.
Finishing the chant of thanks, Boba set the buy’ce on the stand. Then he pulled Din into a dominating kiss, savoring the taste of his riduur in return, exploring every inch of his familiar mouth.
Only minor swelling. No missing teeth. The usual knocking around then.
Din shivered as though he’d never been touched as Boba’s hands explored his bare skin. Still touch starved after all these years despite Boba’s best efforts. “Mesh’la.”
Din’s pupils were dilated and he was breathing hard, nostrils flared. He stood easy, letting Boba look with no more hiding. And Boba looked, mapping each scar across Din’s front with his eyes and hands until Din began arching into each touch. “Jate.”
But that left one last question before Boba really took his riduur apart. Boba wrapped a hand around Din’s throat, stroking gently. “Do you want your collar tonight?”
The sucked in breath was probably matched by a throb of a half hard cock, but Boba’s gaze was fixed on Din’s eyes. They glistened wetly, on the cusp of tears, as he nodded.
“Good.” Boba slid his hand to the back of Din’s head and yanked him into another deep kiss. As they kissed, Boba guided them across the room. Boba loved how Din just submitted so easily, how he let Boba take the lead. It was heady, all this power over such a strong warrior. Some days it was knowing he had this that gave Boba the confidence to manage his gotra.
“Onto the bed.” Boba gave Din a shove, watching the other man gracefully fall onto the mattress. Glorious. The lights were dim, but dappled lighting brought out the gold in Din’s skin. It was hard not to throw himself at that view, but Boba had plans.
The collar was in a box in the wardrobe, where it lived when Din wasn’t in the palace. It was a wide length of bantha leather with a clasp of beskar. They’d made a special trip to Mandalore to have it made. Poor Din had been so embarrassed to make the request of his armorer. She’d seemed more amused than anything, and Boba had gotten the distinct impression he’d gotten her equivalent of a wink.
Slowly, Boba returned to the bed, watching Din watching him. Boba kept the collar coiled in his hand, watching how Din’s gaze was drawn back and forth between collar and Boba himself as he shed his robes and trousers. Din loved bare skin. He loved Boba’s bare skin, despite the scars and mottling from before and after the sarlacc. Din looked torn between patience and touching by the time Boba crawled onto the bed. Onto Din. It earned him a moan as his skin rubbed against Din’s.
“Sometimes I think I get more from you just rubbing skin to skin than all the toys I order from the core.” Boba smirked and gently threaded the collar around Din’s neck.
Din shivered, hands stroking Boba’s sides, and thrust his hips up, showing definite interest.
The clasp clicked into place and Din went limp, eyes closed and mouth parted. Boba tugged gently, checking the fit with two fingers inside the collar. “I am truly blessed.”
Din’s eyes blinked open, lightly glazed and faintly confused. He was slipping under, Boba’s to control.
“To have such wonder in my life.” Boba tugged on the collar again and watched Din sink lax into the bed. “So magnificent.” To have such a powerful warrior submit to him. It was nearly enough to drive Boba to orgasm every time.
Which wasn’t to say Boba was done. Not by a long shot. He leaned over the side of the bed and pulled out the case of toys kept under there, considering his options.
Din was still close enough Boba could feel him shiver as Boba’s hands considered each option. Feathers. Wax. Oils. Definitely not the flogger tonight. Oh, yes.
“Think you can hold still?” Boba pulled out the temperature wand with one hand and trailed the other hand along Din’s ribs, enjoying the shivering skin under his touch. Years of marriage and Din still reacted so intensely to touch. So many years alone, untouched, Din was still catching up.
Shaking his head, Din whimpered again.
Boba set the wand back and pulled out a hank of rope.
Din grunted, gaze fixed on the rope. It was a look of panic. It was a look of desire.
“Arms up,” Boba ordered. Boba firmed his posture, planted himself over Din, his riduur trapped between his thighs. Boba trailed his hands up Din’s sides and along his raised arms, the length of rope trailing up Din’s body. A practiced throw hooked the center of the rope over a hook on the headboard. It took a few long minutes to carefully weave each of the ends of the rope into cuffs around each of Din’s wrists. Ka’ra, that was gorgeous. Boba spent a long moment just looking, fixing the sight into his memory of Din spread out, rope cuffs on each wrist, the center of the rope between them hooked above his head, holding him in place.
“Good?” Boba checked the fit one last time, two fingers under each cuff to be sure the tension was just right. Then he met Din’s gaze until the other man confirmed he was good. There was a bit of a wait as Din twitched, struggling to settle.
Boba let him, placing his hand against Din’s throat above the collar and just waiting. Boba held his gaze steady, waiting for Din to meet him, tightening his grip on Din’s throat when he tried to duck away. When Din shifted and twitched, Boba let his weight sit heavier on Din’s middle or tightened the grip of Boba’s thighs. Slowly, slowly, Din relaxed into the bondage as he’d earlier relaxed into Boba’s touch.
“Good,” Boba purred, sliding down Din’s body until his sat on his riduu’s thighs. Din sighed, almost sounding content in the contact. Well, that wouldn’t do. Boba wanted his cyare worked up.
Boba started with his hands, mapping each scar that dappled Din’s skin, tracing his ribs, pinching Din’s tattoo. Boba avoided Din’s cock. That was for later. But he did let DIn rut up against him as Boba leaned in and began tracing each and every scar again, this time with his tongue. Din tasted of long days without a sonic and the buzz of blaster charges.
When Din was whimpering at each touch, Boba slipped the temperature wand back out of the case. Din must have been distracted because the first touch of the cold tip to Din’s left nipple had the man arching off the bed. Boba liked this wand. It could be switched from hot to cold in an instant, had a reservoir of lubricant at the touch of a button, and came with a self sanitizing case.
And Din reacted beautifully to shifts in temperature. Boba switched the wand tip to hot before touching it to Din’s other nipple. Din bucked, legs reflexively trying to tangle with Boba’s. Instinctive defense. Boba loved it. But he would get Din beyond this. Boba bit Din’s hot nipple and trailed the wand, tip cold, down Din’s middle until it puddled in Din’s belly button.
“Ha.” Din gasped open mouthed, eyes wide and lost.
“Mesh’la,” Boba said again. He straightened, holding Din’s legs down with his weight, and began tracing nonsense patterns across Din’s torso, temperature switching randomly. Din tugged at the cuffs, twitched under Boba’s weight, struggling against everything for long moments. Ka’ra, if only Boba could get hard, he’d be grinding against Din’s thighs and fit to come. So beautiful, his riduur.
As much as Din struggled, he loved it. His cock bounced with every twitch of his body, its tip drooling precum across the plains of his belly. Boba traced some of those wet trails with the wand tip, careful not to touch Din’s cock.
Not yet.
It took time, and Boba enjoyed every moment, but finally Din stopped fighting and started arching into every touch. Grunts became moans, then whimpers. Boba leaned in again, using his mouth to tease, tongue and teeth, leaving a few potential bruises of his own then teasing them with hot and cold. With Din settled into the mattress, Boba could move, could slip down Din’s legs until his mouth hovered over Din’s cock.
Boba caught DIn’s gaze, listened to the desperate whimper, held above the lightly thrusting hips pushing that cock up. Boba held position, smirking, waiting until Din threw his head back and slumped again.
“Jate.” Boba wrapped his lips around Din’s hard cock, savoring the taste of salt and cum on his tongue. At the same time he set the cold wand tip to Din’s balls.
“Lek!”
There they were. Words. Well, one word. It didn’t always work, but sometimes enough stimulation would bring back Din’s words, and Boba was always thrilled when he succeeded.
Boba hit the button and let lube ooze onto the want tip. Slowly he slid it around Din’s balls, under Din’s balls, and then into Din’s body. Din shuddered as cold filled his ass. Boba sucked Din’s cock as he shifted the wand in and out, trading cold for heat and back.
Din moaned.
It wasn’t enough. Boba swapped the thin wand for his fingers, wiggling two roughly into Din with only the remnants of the lube from the wand. Boba should get more, but Din liked a little pain, and Boba wanted to draw out that next level of reaction now. Boba sought out Din’s prostate. Once he found it, Boba danced his fingertips across it and opened his throat until his lips met Din’s pelvis.
“Gedet’ye!”
Boba clamped his fingers down around the base of DIn’s cock. He wasn’t ready for his riduur to come again. Not yet.
“Not yet, cyare.” Boba’s voice was hoarse and he would have been hard as a rock if his nerves would allow it tonight.
“Boba, gedet’ye,” Din whimpered, gaze fixed on Boba’s face, shivering as Boba pulled his fingers out.
“Not yet.” Boba wiped his hands on a towel from the box before spreading himself across Din and pressing their foreheads together. It felt almost as good as a devouring kiss and Din pressed up into the touch.
Din moaned and bucked under Boba. Under other circumstances Din was capable of escaping, but not here. Not now. He arched into the press of Boba’s body, settling under the weight. Boba loved how Din loved being smothered like this.
“Cyare,” Din breathed into Boba’s lips.
Boba wove his fingers together with Din’s. “In a few minutes I’m going to let you up. And then you are going to fuck me.”
Din blinked, still hazy and half under. “Yes, Boba.” He grinned and bucked his cock into Boba’s hip.
“And you will not come until I tell you.”
That got Boba a whimper and another buck. “Alor.”
Boba snorted. Little shit. “Just for that, you will not come until I do.” It was a process, not one Boba always pushed through when his nerves acted up. Having Din was enough. Normally. Tonight Boba was going to come, just because Din had earned the extra work.
Din pouted, but his fingers tightening around Boba’s expressed excitement. Din was beginning to learn to control his facial expressions, but still tended to say more with his body language.
“Do you need a cock ring?” Boba rubbed his nose against Din’s, feeling their lashes catch on each other as Din blinked.
“No.” Din frowned at the thought and managed to sound so certain. Boba decided to let Din call it. If he failed, well, they’d have fun with that too.
“Beautiful.” Boba turned his head until his lips could meet Din’s. He devoured Din’s mouth, mapping all he’d mapped before. This was his. His alone. No one else got to kiss Din. No one else had ever kissed Din. And the rest of the galaxy had no idea what they were missing. Din was such a wonder, and he was all Boba’s.
When Boba was ready, he rolled off Din and popped the middle of the rope of the hook. Now it was Din’s turn. He rolled over and rose slowly to his knees, looking down at Boba.
Din held up his hands, still cuffed in woven rope, the length between from the hook now hanging down Din’s front.
“I think you can work around it,” Boba said smugly. He liked the rope against Din’s skin. This hank had a golden tinge that went so well with the dusky brown of Din’s skin. He’d been studying more techniques for more complicated weaves, researching different types of rope, but wasn’t yet confident enough in his skills to try them on his riduur. But someday… yes, someday soon he’d have Din kneeling before him in nothing but a weave of rope, a pattern and color that suited Din perfectly.
Din snorted and leaned over the kit still on the edge of the bed. He popped the temperature wand into its case for a sanitizing cycle and retrieved the lube.
“Just the plain,” Boba said, recognizing the red cap. Din liked the heating lube. Boba usually found it too much. And tonight there was no way he’d enjoy temperature play.
Din went back into the box with a pout, but came back with the plain lube.
“Good. Now get to work.” Boba spread his legs with the same commanding look he used on the throne. Din’s eyes widened as Boba slid a pillow under his hips. He kept that one just for this. It had the right firmness to support his back and a shape that angled his hips just right. Not a tool Boba had needed in his youth, but well worth the money these days. Jet packs were fun, but rough on the body.
“Yes, cyare,” Din murmured. Little shit, he trailed the rope over Boba’s legs. It would have tickled but for the sarlacc. Instead it almost burned, but in all the right ways.
Din settled between Boba’s legs, beginning with gentle touches at Boba’s legs and hips. They were nice, when Boba could feel more than distant pressure, but not what Boba wanted tonight.
“No teasing.” Boba was more than ready. “I want to feel you.”
Din took orders so beautifully. A moment later he had two slick fingers slid into Boba, wiggling and stretching Boba’s rim.
Boba grunted and closed his eyes, focusing inward and forcing himself to relax into the pressure. “More,” he demanded, barely giving himself time to adjust. A third finger strained, but Din brushed hard against Boba’s prostate until that was all Boba could feel.
When he opened his eyes, Din’s gaze was downward. But not to their joining. Boba knew Din.
“Not tonight.”
Din blinked and looked up to meet Boba’s gaze. He popped an eyebrow, a look he’d been practicing of late.
Boba glared. Yes, he knew what Din wanted. No, not now.
Din pouted.
“We’ll make time tomorrow,” Boba promised. Yes, that would be lovely. Din might not be in a web of rope, but he could kneel naked before the bedroom throne and warm Boba’s cock for an hour or two. Boba would enjoy that. Din would be floating between the stars. “Now get on with it.”
Din smirked and wiggled his fingers again, shoving in a fourth finger and punching a grunt from Boba. Four was more than enough prep. Din wasn’t that big. Boba kicked his heel back, catching Din in the ass and startling a chuckle out of the man. “Yes, Alor,” he said smugly, slipping his fingers free and slathering more lube on his cock. He cleaned his hands on a sanitizing towel before shuffling closer, bringing his hips to Boba’s. Soon Din was slowly easing his way into Boba, splitting him open on that glorious cock.
“Ah, yes,” Boba purred, wrapping his legs around Din’s hips until they were pressed tightly together. “Perfect.” Din’s cock was so deep inside Boba. It was pressing into Boba’s prostate and filling far beyond it.
Din all but purred at the praise, his cock twitching hard inside Boba.
“Fuck me. Hard,” Boba ordered. He wanted to feel this tomorrow. He wanted to sit on his throne and know without looking that his riduur was home.
Din began a rapid thrusting with excellent aim across Boba’s prostate. Stars filled Boba’s vision. He wasn’t the type to moan and groan, but punched out grunts forced themselves from him each time Din bottomed out.
Din’s hands gripped Boba’s hips hard, bruising, and the loose rope all but taunt between his wrists. It pulled across Boba’s hips, catching his soft cock in a tangle. It was … interesting. But not arousing. Boba wasn’t into bondage on himself and this was too close. Boba wanted to focus on the parts of him that worked tonight, not the parts that didn’t.
And Din was focused on Boba’s cock, too focused. He needed to be distracted from his oral fixation.
And Boba aimed to please.
“Stop.”
Din froze, cock half in and half out, fingers twitching against Boba’s skin the only movement.
“Good. Put your hands behind your back.”
Din tried, but the rope caught around his waist. He looked, startled, down at the length of smooth cord as though he’d completely forgotten it was there. He twitched his hands, pulling against the rope cuffs.
Boba smothered a chuckle. Good to know Din was that into things. “Come now, I know you can get out of cuffs behind your back.” And hadn’t that been a fun afternoon. “You can get that rope behind you.”
Whining softly, Din shuffled back, letting himself slip from Boba. He stood at the side of the bed, momentarily wobbly. But then in a quick jump the rope length went from in front to behind and secured his arms to no further forward than his sides. Showoff.
“Very good,” Boba purred. He waved his riduur back to him, enjoying Din’s crawling knee walk up the bed back to between Boba’s thighs. “Hold the length, keep your wrists together.”
This time Din let out something between a whine and a moan, and his cock throbbed and dribbled a little. Once he settled in, he loved bondage.
“Need that cock ring?” Boba offered again even as he hooked his heels behind Din’s knees.
“No, Alor.” Din carefully shuffled closer until Boba could help guide his cock into Boba’s hole.
This time Boba held on, thighs wrapped around Din’s waist and one heel hooked on Din’s crossed wrists. Their joint movements were slow as Din found his balance without the use of his arms. But it wasn’t the first time, not to mention Din was a very physical man who knew his body, so he was soon pounding again into Boba.
“Kark, that’s good. Just like that.” Boba might not be able to get hard, but he was definitely feeling close to orgasm. Prostate stimulation for the win. “Don’t you dare come before me.” Din was getting better with his mouth and hands, but Boba wanted this, wanted to come on his riduur’s cock. It had been a long, lonely couple of months.
Din whined, hips stuttering on the next thrust. But it was a good stutter, it rutted hard against Boba’s prostate. Boba’s balls drew up. “Again,” Boba ordered. Kark, a little more like that…Two more stuttering thrusts and Boba rolled over to orgasm. His eyes rolled back and he held Din hard as the hormones rushed and his dick dribbed. That was the sign of a damned good orgasm, and Din knew it.
Good boy, Din rocked gently, cock throbbing, pulling more echoes of pleasure from Boba’s prostate.
“Mesh’la,” Boba purred at the sight of Din once he opened his eyes again. His hands were clenched at his sides and every muscle in his arms and torso stood out in relief as he visibly fought the urge to do more than gently work Boba. Boba was fairly limp and his legs were falling away from Din. “Go ahead, cyare. Take what you need.”
Din’s gaze met Boba’s and he held still for a long moment. Then the rope snapped (Boba needed to find something stronger. Again. Unless…) and Din scooped up Boba’s legs, tucking them to his chest. The angle brought the next thrust impossibly deeper and Boba gasped. Not that Din could hear, moaning and snarling as he fucked Boba desperately.
They were definitely taking some time for cock warming tomorrow if Din was this desperate for contact. And Boba was encouraging Din to take shorter hunts.
Which wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy Din when he was this desperate. Boba did. But he preferred that desperation come because of Boba’s efforts.
With one final snarl, Din came hard, seeming almost thicker than ever for a long moment. Then he let Boba’s legs fall to his sides and tried to curl up on Boba’s chest. The latter was possible, but not while keeping Din’s soft cock in Boba’s ass, which Din was also trying to do. It was contorting him into an absurd position.
Boba chuckled as he enjoyed his riduur’s weight while his body still tingled with pleasure. “Greedy little thing. Should I get you a sleeve to keep your cock warm and tight?”
Din shook his head, his disheveled curls brushing over Boba’s nipple with a delightful prickle. “Just want to be close.” Din let himself slip free and twined his legs with Boba’s, seeking to press every inch of available skin against Boba.
“Ah, cyare, I know.” Boba rubbed his hands through Din’s hair, worked down his neck, and traced his back muscles.
Then he found the knife and sheath Din had stuck along his spine. Well, that explained the rope. Boba popped it free and used the adhesive element to re-secure it against the headboard. He hadn’t even noticed Din retrieve it. Boba should punish him for that. Tomorrow. For now Boba retrieved Din’s arms and gently unwove the rope from each wrist.
“Come on, clean up and we can cuddle the rest of the night,” Boba coaxed when Din’s free arms immediately wrapped around Boba’s middle. “I am not dealing with you whining tomorrow about your hair ripping out.”
Din chuckled. He never complained. But being clean was more comfortable.
“You can stay here,” Boba promised as Din finally rolled to the side. “I’ll be right back.” It only took a moment to dispose of the rope. Boba savored Din curled on the bed, hand tracing the beskar clasp on his collar, eyes closed and body relaxed.
He did that. Boba Fett. Monster and clone. Tool of the Empire. He made the most Mandokarla of Mandalorians relax and feel safe.
It made him feel warm inside from his bald head to his toes. Boba got a towel and wiped himself down. Then he took another and did the same to Din. Only then did he wrap himself around his riduur and tuck them both under a blanket, the desert night chill beginning to seep into his skin that they had stopped moving.
Din rubbed back into Boba like a content tooka, clearly more than half asleep. He muttered something into his pillow, from which Boba was only fairly confident “darasuum” was part.
“Kar’tayli darasuum,” Boba returned. Yes, he would hold this one in his heart forever.