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In the Dark

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No matter how wet you were, he always made sure you came at least once first.

Tonight was no different, but you sensed an urgency to the way his dexterous fingers found their way inside you. Your primal moans mixed with the wet sound of his fingers stirring inside you, echoing off the metal walls of his ship.

As always, you desperately wish you could kiss him, but the Mandalorian remained clothed. One of your breasts had been pulled free of your robes, one bare nipple sliding against his armor. While the polished steel was a cool relief from the burning heat of your blood, you ached to feel the comforting warmth of skin on skin.

But that would never be, and the more you want it, the more you knew it would break your heart.

Instead of wallowing in regret, you grip his shoulders and ride his hand, eagerly chasing your pleasure. You know his fingers are not enough to satisfy your thirst for him. But, more than anything else, your soul craves the one piece of himself the Mandalorian did give you. A piece he didn’t seem to give to anyone else.

Even with his helmet on, you know he is watching you. The knowledge fills you with lust and pride, amplifying every sensation. Fixing your eyes on where you thought his might be, you clenched your cunt around his fingers and came.

Though you expect him to flip you over and take you from behind like usual, the Mandalorian remained in place. The hands that were strong enough to leave bruises on your hips are soothingly stroking your skin instead, easing you down from your orgasmic high. Through the roaring current of blood in your ears, you hear his steady breathing, and know he continues to watch you.

“What is it?” you whisper.

You wait for a full minute until, ever so slightly, he shakes his head.

And nothing else.

A part of you is always unsure of where you stand with the Mandalorian. He isn’t the type to explain himself--most of what you know about him is from others. And there was only so long a “relationship” like this could go on. Perhaps the rumors were true and he was leaving, taking jobs as far away as he could. Perhaps he was just trying to be a gentleman and please you one last time before saying goodbye forever…

You begin to shrink away from his hold, but his hands tighten on your hips.

“Don’t.” The desperation in his tone stills you instantly.

Hesitantly, you look back up at him, tears pricking your eyes. That expressionless mask reveals nothing, but there’s a hitch to his breathing, a new unsteadiness to the rise and fall of his chest. Curiosity pushes you to ask, but insecurity keeps your tongue still.

“Close your eyes,” he says softly.

You obey, and the weight of your eyelids pushes a tear out. The warm bead leaves a cool trail on your cheek, but all you can feel is the absence of his hands. Your ears focus on the sound of shifting fabric, the soft thud of something hitting the ship floor. You can feel your eyelids twitching as you struggle to keep your eyes closed.

Warmth cups your cheek, accompanied by rough calluses and the scent of leather and steel. Involuntarily, your eyes fly open, but his other hand cups over them, shrouding you in darkness. With so few lights on in the ship, there’s nothing you can see beyond the shadows of his palm.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly shut your eyes again and lean into his touch. “I won’t look, I promise.”

When his palm leaves your eyes so he can cup your face in both hands, you sigh with grateful relief.

“I know. I trust you,” he murmurs, his warm words stirring your loins.

But nothing could be better than the feeling of his skin on yours. The tender, delicate nature of his touch makes you feel treasured.


Eyes still closed, you reach out with both hands to lay your palms flat against his armored chest.

“I want to feel all of you.”

You hear and feel him shift his weight from foot to foot, hesitating.

“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”


“Then, please. Just once.”

Your hands are shaking and you can feel more tears leak out of your eyes. They catch on the edges of his hands, pool between his fingers.

Cool air rolls over your face as his hands leave your cheeks. For a brief second, your heart threatens to break, until strong arms wrap around you and keep you from falling apart. One hand cups the back of your head, cradling you gently against his helmet, his bare fingers getting tangled in your loose hair. You can feel the swell of his chest as he breathes in deep, your body trembling in anticipation as you await his answer.

“Alright. Just once.”