Chapter Text
“That was fun,” Luke said lightly, stretching his arms over his head, making joints pop slightly.
Din snorted. “If you say so,” he replied easily, sore muscles and tired body screaming otherwise.
Luke smiled at him, patting the child's head. “Well, he sure did have fun, eh?”
In Din's arms, Grogu was blinking slowly, slower each time, as if keeping his eyes open was too much work. He wasn't surprised; the boy had been jumping around, using his powers a lot more than he was used to, making elaborate flips in the air.
“Yeah,” Din murmured softly. “Show off.”
It made the Jedi chuckle, a sound Din thought he'd never tire of –and he had been hearing it a lot lately.
They had bumped into each other on Nevarro of all places; Din had been out in the markets with Grogu to stock up their house when they had spotted the Jedi talking amicably with a vendor. Grogu had been ecstatic to see his former teacher, Din… not so much. He had gotten used to the idea of hating him for kicking his son out of his school, and had promised himself he'd beat him up if they ever crossed paths again.
But Luke had greeted them warmly, had hugged Grogu like old friends who hadn't seen each other in a long time, had asked about both of their well-beings, and Din just… hadn't been able to punch such a pretty smile and ruin his child’s happiness.
Now they were working together –what is more, Din considered them friends. He knew he could count on the man for any situation –with his life, even– and also enjoyed his company off-work. That, of course, had only happened after learning Grogu had chosen to leave the school himself to be a Mandalorian, had decided he wanted to be with Din instead.
He was rather ashamed of hating such a kindhearted man just for a misunderstanding, but the Jedi had forgiven and forgotten easily.
“That was very good quick thinking,” Luke said now as they walked back to their rented gunship. “Using the droids as distraction. Though I kind of feel bad for them…”
Din shrugged. “They had it coming,” he replied.
An amused eyebrow raised, the other man asked, “the droids or the Imps?”
“Both.”
Luke rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his mouth. “I'm just glad the tip was right this time. It would've been really depressing to find another empty vault.”
“Yeah…” Din peeked over his shoulder to make sure the things on the cart they were towing were intact. It was a big haul of artifacts, weapons and a few Jedi relics. They had even found some Beskar ingots.
When they finally made it to their ship, he felt some of the tension leaving his body. The dwarf planet had mostly been empty except for the Imperial base, and they had landed on a clearing hidden in a small forest a little away from it. The ramp lowered now and Luke nodded and took Grogu from his arms to head inside while Din inspected the outside of the ship.
The job had been quite simple: raid an Imperial's secret vault, keep the objects and sell whatever was valuable enough. Greef Karga had been kind enough to let them borrow –for a fine amount of credits– the Grasshopper, a pre-Empire Wookie gunship painted with flashy green colors that had mostly faded and chipped away with age. It now had a few additional blaster marks after the shootout they had in orbit, which Din bitterly supposed Karga was going to charge them for.
“How's it look?” the other man asked after a moment, joining him outside the ship.
“No integral damage. Might be cheaper if I just fix it myself before returning it.”
Humming, Luke inspected the burned metal plates. “You know how?” he asked.
Din nodded. “Used to live in a gunship, Razor Crest Model. The engines were bigger and faster, but the carcass is similar in design.”
“A Razor Crest…” Luke repeated with awe, and Din felt his face heat up under the admiration. “That’s amazing. I had a poster with gunships in my room when I was a kid,” he said then with a soft smile, a hand caressing the side of the ship. “I remember thinking that was one of the coolest.”
“One of the coolest?” Din joked, touched by the admission. “Not the best?”
“Well,” the Jedi grinned, “I'm more of a starship kinda guy myself. Gunships aren't bad, but they can't fly half as fast.”
“Ah,” he replied, staring at the other man's face to gauge his reaction when he added, “I also have an N-1 fighter, you know.”
Luke’s eyes snapped towards him, wide in surprise. “What? You– what? How?” he spoke with an almost child-like wonder, babbling excitedly. “They're super rare, only made in Naboo and handmade for the royal guards. They don't even make them anymore, how the hell did you get one?”
Din smirked underneath his helmet, glad the other man wasn't calling him a liar like some of his friends had when he mentioned the ship.
“Jawas,” he admitted. “They sold it to my mechanic. It was pretty busted and we had to build it almost from scratch, but it was worth it. We added a Kineso-switch and gave it a turbonic venturi power assimilator.”
“A venturi… damn,” Luke exclaimed. “Bet she's fast as hell. I'm so jealous right now like you wouldn't believe.”
That made him chuckle. He had seen the man's rusty fighter, had seen him buy modified parts downtown and knew it was probably faster than the regular X-Wing, but it was still an X-Wing, and no match to the N-1.
“Maybe I'll let you fly it one day,” he said just so he could see that excited look on his face again –and also, because the idea of him flying his ship was incredibly alluring for some unexpected reason. “If you promise not to crash.”
Luke nodded eagerly, big grin on his face. “I've never crashed a ship in my life,” he said, hand on his chest for extra dramatic effect.
“Somehow I don't believe you,” Din replied with an eye roll.
He had allowed the Jedi to fly the Grasshopper while he shot the TIEs chasing them off the sky. It turned out he was a really good pilot, just incredibly reckless –he spun and made fighters crash and shoot each other, leaving Din dizzy with the violent movements and with his heart on his throat from the constant near-collisions.
The other snickered and shrugged, uncaring. “This one held up pretty good, though,” he commented.
“Not thanks to you,” Din murmured bitterly.
“Aw, come on. Did I or did it not get rid of those TIEs with minimum damage to us?”
Without a word Din simply pointed at the large burnt mark underneath one of the wings, the darkened metal curving at the seams. He was right, of course –the damage was only superficial– but he wasn't about to tell him that.
“Hey, gunships are heavier than what I'm used to,” Luke countered, hands on his hips. “I'd say I did a pretty good job considering the engine we were given.” He shrugged, added, “I admit it flew better than I expected, I thought Greef was gonna scam us.”
Smirking, Din said, “only if he doesn't trust you.”
“And he trusts me?” the Jedi asked, one doubtful eyebrow up.
“He trusts me,” he answered with a shrug. “And likes the kid. That's good enough.”
“Fair,” Luke agreed, then he smiled. “Oh, Grogu is practically unconscious, by the way. Passed out the second his head touched the pillows.” Then clarified, “no injuries, just really tired.”
Din hummed in agreement. “He's been trying to imitate you, jumping around and all that. He’s not used to doing that,” he explained. Then added, “well, not that much, anyway.”
Luke's smile turned apologetic. “I've noticed too. I've told him he doesn't need to prove anything but…”
“Yeah,” Din replied with a sigh. He crossed his arms, using his most chiding tone when he said, “it doesn't help that you like to show off too.”
“I don't show off,” the other argued, and his offended frown was broken by his inability to hold off his smile. “I just use all the skills at my disposal.”
“Uh-huh. And you absolutely need to flip backwards and roll in the air at all times just to fight some useless stormtroopers,” he countered, only half-saddened that he couldn't display his smirk.
“Of course I do,” Luke replied in a sly tone, taking a step closer. “It is absolutely necessary.” Another step, somewhat caging Din against the side of the ship. “How else will I get your attention?”
Din huffed, bewildered by the confession. Luke grinned, victorious –an expression that made him a little weak at the knees. There it was again –it was clear as day now that he was flirting with him, no other way to disguise it.
It had actually been Cara Dune who had realized it, at first. Din had told her he knew Luke Skywalker and she had almost lost it; apparently the man was a decorated hero in the Rebellion, someone she looked up to greatly. However their meeting had been rather odd, since she had been expecting someone of Luke's reputation to be… a little older, at least. He hadn't met her expectations, and Din had sympathized with Luke for that.
So he had started to tell her some stories, just occasionally recounting their trips to her over holo calls, trying to change her mind about him –though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to do that. He couldn't remember now what he had said exactly, but one day she had suddenly gone wide-eyed and sputtering in surprise.
“No fucking way,” she had said then, hands pulling from her hair. “There's just no way.”
“What? What happened?” he had replied, confused and a little worried.
“I can't believe you,” she continued, now almost offended. “You're fucking him? The Luke Skywalker? Stars, no one's gonna believe me... I– you just– how the hell did you pull that off?”
And Din had gone still with shock because he had no idea how she'd come to that conclusion with his story.
“I'm… not?” he had replied, beyond confused because they hadn't –not that he didn't want to, really, but it was the truth. “We're just friends.”
Cara had laughed loudly and almost manically at that, had immediately deadpanned when she realized he was being serious. “Din Djarin you're a kriffing idiot,” she said in disbelief. “One of the most famous guys in the galaxy is hitting on you and you play dumb? Come on, man!”
“What? No, he's just being friendly,” he had argued, mostly because he had been too afraid to hope.
“Friendly? There was absolutely no need for a war general to get into a fucking tiny locker with you– to what, hide from a bunch of stormtroopers?” She had sounded exasperated then. “And then saying that? Come on, think! What else did you think was happening?”
Din hadn't replied. In all honesty, the idea hadn't even crossed his mind, not even once. He had fantasized, sure, he was only human and had no control over his mind on lonely nights, but to actually think Luke had any interest in him? It felt impossible, too good to be true.
And yet, there he was.
The Jedi was staring at him expectantly, maybe waiting for his reaction. There was amusement on his face, an almost fond expression that made Din's heart skip a beat.
He leaned on the ship behind him to try to relax, to play it cool. Cara had advised to ‘flirt back, you moron!’, but that was easier said than done. Under the warm, intense gaze of the other man his tongue got stuck against the roof of his mouth, brain full of fog.
“You don't–” Din tried, but his voice came out wrong. He cleared his throat, said, “you don't need to do that.”
The other man seemed to deflate then, the smile falling from his face, and Din knew he had fucked up.
“Sorry,” Luke replied, and he sounded impossibly disappointed, not even trying to hide it with his Jedi tricks.
“No, I-I mean,” Din attempted to fix it, “I, uh, you… you already have my attention.”
Half a second passed, and yet it felt like an eternity. Luke seemed to relax somewhat, eyebrow raised, though he still seemed dubious.
“That so?” he said. “Hard to tell with that helmet of yours. You could be napping in there and I wouldn't even know.”
Din sighed, arms still crossed, leaning further on the ship while he thought of something smart to say. “I'm looking,” he admitted in a low voice. “Have been for a while now. Especially when you fight.”
The smile returned to Luke's face, cheeks going a pleasantly shade of pink. He took a step closer, leaving a small space for Din to escape should he want to.
“That's good to hear,” he replied softly, candidly. His eyes met the visor and then slowly went downwards, making Din gulp nervously under the unwavering attention. “I confess I've been looking too,” he said, closing the distance left, hands pressing on the ship's wall on either side of Din's waist. “Maybe a little too much. And not just when you fight.”
Digging his own nails on the flesh of his arms through the fabric, Din flexed and forced his fingers to relax, figuring how to proceed; the fire on Luke's eyes told him he would've already been kissed had he not been wearing a helmet.
So he did the first thing that came to mind: he reached out and held Luke's belt. His touch was careful, two fingers sneaking through the upper seam, pulling slightly closer. He felt his heart already beating in his chest as if it were the engine of a racing pod, and he shuddered when Luke dropped all pretences and accepted the gesture as the invitation that it was.
Their bodies were flush together, though Din only felt his warmth on the few spots not covered by armor. The other man brought his hands to Din's flanks, squeezing a little, and a knee gently spread his legs slightly to fit between them, sparking a tingling sensation up his groin, heat pooling into his stomach.
Face impossibly hot, Luke nuzzled against his neck, his exhales warming the fabric and causing goosebumps on the skin underneath. Din was suddenly overcome with desire and he pulled from the belt to get him closer, cocks bumping though the many layers.
Luke gasped, a hand pulling the high collar down to expose tender skin, lips immediately sinking into neck muscles. A violent, pleasant shudder shook Din from the back of his head to the tip of his toes, and he groaned low and rough, squeezing his eyes shut.
Then the other man tried to move his leg even closer, hissing in sudden pain. Din stilled, worried, blinking out the white spots that had appeared in his sight.
“You okay?” he managed, breathless and thick.
“Yeah,” Luke murmured against his neck, kissing and moving again, hissing once more.
He cursed and Din pushed him back slightly, looked down at their legs to find what was causing the issue. It seemed the Beskar cuisses on his thighs were hurting him somehow, and he raised his eyes to see a guilty grimace on Luke's face.
“What is it? Does it hurt?” he asked gently, thumbs making circles on his waist.
Luke sighed and looked away, nodding. "Metal's too sharp,” he murmured sadly, removing his leg.
Din hummed in thought; he had never felt it that way, but then again he had grown used to it. He glanced downwards to see their bodies; the hard metal plates were making it impossible for the man to get any closer without touching them, and belatedly he realized he'd been trying to grind on the Beskar, which was an arousing and impossibly sinful thought at the same time.
Also, incredibly painful for Luke.
So he found himself with two options: either he stopped this and regretted it forever, or he took off his cuisses and… and maybe nothing, really, since there was technically no rule against that.
The choice made itself. He pushed Luke away, watching his face crumble in resignation and then light up in surprise when he quickly unclasped the armor pieces, leaning down to leave them on the ground one next to the other.
“Oh,” Luke murmured, eyes fixated on his now empty thighs.
“I didn't mean to hurt you,” Din murmured, reaching out to hold his belt again, gently pulling him closer.
“It's okay,” the other answered with a sweet smile. “I know.”
Din swallowed down the lump on his throat at that. He heard a soft thump, noting the one black glove was now on the ground as Luke removed his lightsaber from his back and left it by Din's armor. Then he opened his belt buckle, letting it drop to the ground and kicking it away –giving Din free access to his waist. Emboldened, Din imitated him, carefully removing his own belt along with the Beskar tassets hanging from it, adding the bandolier too to the pile by their feet.
Luke nodded approvingly, and then returned to his spot with a content sigh, kissing and biting whatever little amount of skin was available, bumping his nose against the sharp edge of the helmet with a soft yelp.
“Sorry,” Din mumbled, lifting his chin upwards, trying to offer more room.
But the other said nothing. He licked across the expanse of the new uncovered skin, a slight trail of teeth scraping, making the nerves underneath tingle. His leg came closer again, thigh sliding across Din's groin and making him groan in pleasure. The contact was free of obstacles and they slid their cocks against each's thighs desperately. The sensation made him shudder, nails digging on the fabric of Luke's pants as he brought his hands down to squeeze his ass, to bring him closer if it was even possible.
Luke moaned and went faster, fingers pulling on the flight suit wherever they could touch it. Din groaned and thrusted his waist up and down, following the rhythm and adding more friction.
It was too much and not enough at the same time. It made him feel lightheaded and dizzy, legs shaky and fingers numb. Toes curling inside his boots and breaths coming out shaky and quick; Luke's mouth making wet sounds when he sucked on the sensitive skin, his moans mixed with his own. This close to orgasm, he had to mentally battle himself between keeping it together so the pleasure could go on longer or letting go and finally getting the relief he so desperately craved.
“Din,” Luke whimpered in between moans, low and breathy. His face was hidden against the crook of his neck, short gasps against his sensitive skin. “Din.”
And that alone was enough to bring him over the edge, stomach and legs tightening before he came inside his clothes with an almost pained groan, Luke's name at the tip of his tongue, throat unable to make any coherent sounds through his ecstasy. Hands squeezed his flanks tighter then, pinching slightly as Luke sped up, coming after a moment of frantic and erratic grinding, a low curse and a soft whimper along a full-body shudder.
Then they breathed. Their bodies relaxed and they simply embraced each other, knees hitting when they trembled weakly. Din felt the exhales hitting his neck slowing, deepening, and willed his heart to follow the pace. His entire weight was against the ship, and he had to widen his stance to prevent sliding down and dragging the other man along. The movement however was rendered uncomfortable by the sticky sensations on his groin, but he found he didn't really care.
Hands made soft circles on his lower back. Luke let out a long, content sigh, leaning his head on his shoulder.
He spoke gently, barely above a murmur, throat dry and voice a little rough. “I'll help you fix the ship,” he commented. “So we can get home sooner.”
Din didn't want to sound disappointed, but talking about work straight after sex didn't sit well with him. He caressed Luke's back and hummed in vague agreement, hoping he'll drop the subject. Luke squeezed his middle and got comfortable, and they stayed like that for a few more minutes.
Softly, Luke kissed his neck and then talked again. “My feet are killing me.”
“Mine too,” Din replied with a sigh, and they both chuckled, light and dazed.
The other man let out another long sigh, and then disentangled himself from Din's body. He picked up his belt, lightsaber and glove and took half a step back, heavy-lidded eyes staring up at him with the sweetest smile.
“I'm gonna go clean up,” he murmured, a hand cupping the side of Din's helmet, tilting it down. “Be back in a sec.”
And then he left a soft kiss on the visor, winking before walking away, leaving Din with weak knees and a heart full of unbridled joy.