The cantina where they met was in the middle levels of Coruscant, low enough not to deserve attention from the more 'refined' above crowd but not so lowly positioned to be only frequented by the desperate and the dregs that no self-respecting mercenary or criminal would deal with.
It was a smoky, heated environment, with a band of Biths playing their instruments in an improvised jazzy jam while a male Togruta sang at center stage. A very undressed male Twilek and a Zeltron who was either wearing skin tight clothes or body paint were playing as her chorus and support entertainment, by dancing one on each side of the singer.
It wasn't filthy, like many other places of this kind were, but it certainly looked the part well enough to scare any 'good' Coruscanti citizen off.
It made the man at the bar, dressed in a pair of Corellian military pants and a white shirt, stand out like a sore thumb, even with him taking up a dark corner and imbibing enough alcohol to leave a pile of empty shots on the counter.
A pile big enough that the man was slowly organizing it in a three dimensional pyramid shape. Jango couldn't help but admire it a bit. Amassing enough glasses to do that took some dedication and at least a thorough disregard for the state of one's liver, if not a hollow leg.
The man had, unsurprisingly, received two offers, since Jango had arrived, and had refused both of them, with firm politeness and what sounded like a High Coruscanti accent rounding his words and making them sound more sophisticated than the man looked, given his stained pants and old shirt, that looked like it had seen far better days.
True, he had a clean enough look to him, with stubble on his cheeks and shoulder-length hair that had been left free to fall around his face, blonde or red depending on how he moved at any given moment. However, he also gave off the impression of being more of a rough kind of man, pushed a bit too close to his own limits. Someone who might shove you into a wall for bothering him just as easily as talk to you.
Normally, Jango wouldn't have spent so much time focusing on a person without acting but on it, but the more attention he paid and the less this felt like it was going to be a normal kind of evening.
He had made a point of not staring too hard at the stranger - which had proved to be far more difficult than expected. He supposed that after months spent on a planet around Kaminoans or people who looked exactly like him at various stages of his life, he relished the change. The diversity.
That and there was something to the red-head, some sort of quality, that had snagged Jango's attention since the moment he had set foot in the cantina and had refused to let him focus on much else, aside from drinking, while at the same time tripping his instincts, telling him to thread carefully before approaching.
He cast a glance around, checking if there was anyone else he might have to keep track of and came up empty. No familiar faces. Funny how not wearing his armour made him almost invisible. If someone recognized him, they gave no sign of it. It was not like he had been on that many jobs out of late.
He ordered another drink, and another shot of whatever the pyramid-builder was having. He was curious to see if he would manage to finish it.
The amount he had already drunk was enough to send others sprawled down their stool, but the man seemed to be steady and steady-going, so chances were that he might be able to complete it after all.
He kept an eye on the band playing, not wanting the stranger to feel like he had to accept the drink.
Jango told himself he did not particularly care either way and took a swig from his whiskey, almost sighing in relief as it left a burning trail down his throat. He had missed this. The fact that he was not even allowed to drink alcohol - and he did try his very best to sneak some past the Kaminoans. Always to end up with a needle in his arm and a stark reminder that he could not drink. - was one of the hardest parts of the damn Kamino job.
But no one could monitor him on Coruscant so the joke was on them. Probably.
The man didn't call out to him nor tried to catch his attention, but when Jango looked at him next, the glass Jango had sent over and another one had joined the rest of the pyramid, leaving it with only a couple of empty spaces to fill, in order to make it complete.
He half-turned to Jango, as if he'd felt his eyes on himself, and his mouth curled up in a crooked, mischievous smile, blue-green eyes warm as they slid over Jango's body in a way that somehow managed to slide right past leering and into 'open appreciation' territory. It made Jango feel warmed up, almost ready to go right there and then, even.
Jango offered a half-smile in return. He took the opportunity to observe more openly the other man. It had been a while since anyone caught his eye, and Jango was not certain if it was his poise, his looks, or how he had looked at Jango, that made him so arresting. Maybe all three.
The man didn't linger in his own looking, though his smile did deepen as he turned back to the bartender and putting another credit chip on the counter, raising his right arm and extending index and middle finger, to signal for two more shots.
Jango decided it was a good moment to let his staring become open and watched as the man's fingers curled around each glass, bringing them up in turn to his lips, knocking them back with ease. He watched him swallow and wondered at the smooth skin of his throat and how it would look with an imprint of Jango's teeth on it.
It was a strange thought, not the kind of thing Jango had ever indulged in, but it was a pretty throat and he was a few drinks in. That was probably all there was to it, he reasoned.
Soon, the last two glasses met their fate as construction material. Not once had the man’s hand trembled. So, high alcohol tolerance - and training. Such steady hands was something he had seen only among shooters, fighters, or the well-trained wine-sacks.
He nodded at the pyramid, his smile growing wider - and perhaps slightly wolfish, but hey, he did not really start it. “Nice one. Seem like you got some skills.” He had spoken low enough to be barely heard - he saw no point in trying to talk over the ambient noise.
The man smiled back, pushing a hand through his hair to slide them back and away from his face, and there was something lurking there in his smile that made him looks less young and less wholesome but all that much more interesting for it.
"Some." The man agreed, easily and without shame. "Mostly, I dislike leaving a mess after myself. I prefer things to be clean and neatly tied up."
His eyes crinkled at the corners, in good humor at his own joke, meeting Jango's without hesitation. He didn't laugh, though it was all but implied in the brief flash of teeth, but he did make a vague gesture he made towards the pyramid, without taking his eyes off the Mandalorian.
Jango could not have torn his eyes away even if he had wanted to. And he definitely did not. This was getting better and better.
He leaned on the counter - not forward but to the side, repaying the man's previous open appreciation with his own, as he let his linger on the way the shirt wrapped around his frame and on the tightness of the pants on the thighs of the man. They were lovely thighs, ones that could use with some more marking too, he idly considered as he slowly brought his eyes back up, to meet the strangers' own.
“I agree. Though sometimes, it is satisfying to leave the cleaning to someone else.” He could have punched himself the moment he heard the words coming out of his own mouth. They were terrible He was probably getting a bit old - or losing his touch. He meant every single one, though.
He motioned the barkeep to get another two drinks going. He was nowhere near buzzed enough, anyway. Not that he was actively trying to, not anymore.
He was curious, however - not about that man’s name and origin. He himself enjoyed anonymity way too much to be so rude. - and willing to do something to quench that curiosity. Especially when the stranger leaned back a bit and smiled a thoroughly filthy smile at him, one hand coming up to stroke the bristles of beard he had on his face.
“Skilled men are hard to come by, these days.” He added, his voice dropping a register into something rougher, charged with meaning, and then he took a long sip of his whiskey, eyes still trained on the man in front of him. He was stunning.
And maybe Jango was drunker than he had thought, because he wanted to brush that hair away from his neck, wondered what his blood tasted like when teeth pressed down hard enough to break skin- clearly, spending too much time on that isolate sea wasteland was messing him up big time.
Jango wanted him, in that moment, more than he had wanted him in all the time since he'd stepped into the cantina combined. But he had to maintain order and proportion, as in a fight.
"Isn't that the truth." The man mused, his smile turning warmer as he accepted the drink the bartender brought to him, as his voice slid into something lower that made Jango's cock harden up some. "Hard to come by, harder still to pin down long enough to have some fun before both go their own separate way."
After a moment, the stranger took the glass in his hand, turning his drink to make the liquor inside slide against the pale blue glass. When he was done contemplating it, he raised it up. "To the right set of circumstances?" He offered, with a sly smile.
It took a lot of Jango’s self-control not to jump his interlocutor. He caught himself - timing, again. Instead, he choose to reply, with a smirk of his own that he had no problems making as filthy as he could. With what he was thinking about, that was a lot.
“To circumstances.” He raised his glass in a lazy toast and downed it, bottoms up.
He slid from his seat, prowling closer to the man and feeling more like a predator than he had in a long while. He'd always prided himself on being disciplined, in control, but there were moments where he couldn't help himself and this was one of those.
“I don’t believe for an instant that you need to pin anyone down to have fun.” He kept his voice low, in a confidential tone that tumbled out of him far rougher than he'd wanted it to be.
To be fair, he would be quite fine doing the pinning himself. The thought took shape, burned bright for an instant, before it expanded into many possibilities each one more delicious than the previous one and all with so. much. potential.
He could feel warmth radiating from the man - or maybe it was just the place, or himself? Either way, it was enticing.
“Perhaps another place?” He was way past the age of playing too much, but he was all for letting the man decide of the ‘where'. Jango was not going to be picky, no sir, and his ship was not the best of place. Or was it?
For a moment, he thought about having the stranger bent over the powered off control panel, or sitting in the piloting seat and have the man ride him while Jango held his hands behind his back and bit enough bruises into his back to make out a familiar mark.
He had to take a quiet breath and exhale it slowly. It was probably better to just let the man decide. He clearly had drunk more than he had thought, if he was thinking about that kind of stuff.
They were close enough to touch - anticipation made him tense. He had half a mind to toss all caution to the wind and pounce - but attracting unwanted attention was not high on his to-do list - much unlike the red-haired man in front of him.
The man who smiled at him, a slow widening of his sly smile into a wicked one. One swig and even the last glass was empty, carefully placed on top of all the others, completing his evening's work.
"I have a place." He positively purred, sliding off his seat and closer to Jango, making their bodies brush against each other as he moved, teasing with his closeness as well as his voice. It made Jango want to put his hands on him and pin him down hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises on him.
What was it with him, tonight? Jango almost stopped to consider it, almost stopped himself from going, and then wound up distracted by the way the man's eyes crinkled at the corners, as his smile deepened, making him look like he was ready to blow Jango's mind out through his cock.
"Follow me." He invited, when he was barely two steps away, turning his head to look at Jango over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and filled with a filthy kind of warmth that was invitation and dare all on itself.
Jango laid his credits on the counter, paying for the drinks that remained, and gave a distracted nod to the barkeep when he immediately came to retrieve the payment, but otherwise, kept his eyes trained on the man. Even when he moved the stranger did so with poise, his steps sure and smooth even after that many drinks.
Jango smirked, and it turned out predatory again, he could feel it in himself and in the way he itched to get his hands, his teeth and everything he could on the man. He was not one to turn away from a challenge, and a challenge it was. Never had been. Never would be.
He stepped up to the man, noticing on that occasion that he was taller than himself, though only by a couple of inches - not that it mattered very much, with what Jango was planning - and followed him outside, falling into step with him.
His companion walked almost silently, in a way that bespoke training in fighting – probably blades, fencers favored staying light on their feet, which meant some ceremonial kind of fighting training, as most of the galaxy preferred the wide variety of blaster pistols, guns and rifles that were commonly available to all.
Every other step, their shoulders brushed – the closeness was heady, made even worse with the claustrophobic feeling of these streets. Above or underground, it all felt the same. It made Jango remain mostly mindful of his surroundings – as mindful as he could be when he had to keep his hands to himself and still have the stranger within easy reach. While bars were overall considered a safe place, the streets were another matter entirely.
He did not speak – he did not exactly feel the need to. Rather, he cast a glance at his companion – the crude lights cast his profile in sharp shadows, making him appear older, more jaded, in a sense. The sickly yellow neon had leeched all colors from his hair, as it did everything else. These were small details he kept in mind. It was not often that he allowed himself to indulge in observing someone closely – unless they were a contract. He smiled to himself – a small smile, satisfied with the turn the situation had taken.
The man let himself be watched, showing no discomfort at being the center of Jango's attention. His lips were curled in a slightly sardonic smile, but it didn't seem to be for Jango and he didn't glory in the attention. He didn't preen either.
What he did was give Jango his own glances, that made it all that much harder to not just pull him in a side street and slam him against the wall, and lead the way to an apartment building a block over, walking inside and past the Togrutan supervisor without deigning to look at him, going not for the stairs but towards the end of the tiny, filthy hallway.
It made Jango slow down, fall in step behind the man, and that gave him a perfect view of the man's covered back and of the way the pants where tight around his ass, as well as his thighs, showing off without actually being indecent. They did certainly inspire many an indecent thought in Jango's head, that was for sure, and distracted him enough that he forgot to check if there were other doors in the hallway, beside the one they stepped through.
The room, much unlike the building itself, was spotless. It was composed of a big bed, that took up most of it, and a door to what had to be the fresher. There was a wardrobe set in the wall, barely big enough for one person's belongings, and nothing else. No personal items, no objects revealing details about any kind of life.
It was empty and functional. A place to crash, and not to live in.
Not that he wanted to know more about this man. Even his name came as secondary to the driving need he had to put his hands on his skin and make him writhe, put his mouth on him and make him moan first and then scream. To carve himself into the man's memory, never to be forgotten.
As soon as the door was locked, Jango turned to the man, a lopsided grin plastered to his face. A grin that turned feral as he leaned against him, this time not caring for boundaries any longer. The lights were low, but the colors had returned to the stranger's face. His hair looking darker now.
The atmosphere was charged, one move to break the stillness. Just one tiny move.
Oh, screw that.
Jango rounded on him, slowly, backing him against the wall. Yes, there was a bed, but who cared? He had wanted to back him up that way since the bar.
He laid a hand on the man's hip, his touch easy to break, his other hand on the wall. Willing submission was what he wanted and it was what he would have. The garments the man was wearing were not enough to prevent heat from seeping through, making Jango's fingers almost feel scalded.
Or maybe it was just him?
When was the last time he had touched anyone?
Way too long, confined and watched as he was. He was going to savor it.
He smirked, not breaking eye contact, his head tilted in a way that could mean 'what now?' or nothing. He leaned – they were breathing the same air, their lips almost touching with every breath they took. Tension was coiling in him, almost painfully. He relished it, that pain.
One more instant, and he let his control slip.
He kissed him, trying to take it slow and failing – hunger dug its teeth into him. Hunger that had him grip tighter onto him, pressing their body together as he licked at the red-head's lips – teasing, waiting for an indication to go further.
It was not about wanting anymore but craving. He had not noticed he needed it so much. His fingers dug into the fabric, his other hand curling at the back of his neck, bringing him closer.
The man didn't hesitate, following the movement Jango was imposing on him and pressing his body against Jango's, opening his lips and biting softly on Jango's lower lip as he sighed in satisfaction.
He relaxed, bringing a hand up to cup Jango's face as they kissed. His thumb stroking along Jango's cheekbone, as his other arm wrapped itself around Jango's back, slightly titled upward a single line of heat that ended in a splayed-out hand. The man's fingers pressed down between Jango's shoulder blades, giving the man leverage to rub himself against Jango, in a full body movement.
Jango slid a knee between the man's thighs, pressed flush against him. He practically growled into the kiss at the pressure – painful, promising. He ground against him, in retaliation. The hand he had on the man's hip moved to undo the ties holding his tunic together, then under the fabric – trailing over smooth, heated skin. He broke away, nuzzling under the man's jaw, hair scratching a bit.
Kissed his neck, light at first. Moving to the juncture of his neck and shoulder – open-mouthed kiss turned into a light bite. Taste of salt, a bit, his scent – Jango would not describe it but it was there.
His free hand pushing the tunic further out of the way, from his shoulder. Jango looked at him – stunned for an instant. Hand on his cheek – the hard shadows back and cutting edges. Jango tilted his head, grazed his teeth against his neck – not enough to leave a mark. But he would, if given the permission to. Jango slid a knee between the man's thighs, pressed flush against him.
The man's hand slid away from Jango's cheek, wrapping around the back of his neck, not trying to move him but just holding on as the man tilted his own head back further, resting it against the wall, offering his throat up.
"Go ahead." He said, voice lower, his accent deepening. It had more of a burr to it now, that made it less High Coruscanti and much rougher. "Bite all you want." His lips curled into a filthy smile, that made him look like he was relishing the sensation already.
"Be as rough as you like." He sounded eager for him, pressing his hips forward, riding Jango's thigh in a movement so smooth it must have looked like the man was liquid in motion. "I can take it. You won't break me."
Jango smiled, not wishing to reply just yet. He pushed the tunic off the man's shoulders completely, reveling in the sight. His hands trailed up his arms to his shoulders, down his chest – touch being more important than sight in this moment – fingers encountering scars – some smoothed out by time, others still raised. Raked his nails experimentally across the man's sides, hands then moving to his back as he moved in again to kiss him roughly. He nipped sharply at his lower lip, before licking the spot. Kissed his neck – and this time, sinking his teeth harder into the offered flesh. Hard enough to bruise.
Hands moving down the man's back, cupping his ass through the fabric. And still radiating heat. Jango held him as he moved lower – avoiding his nipples on purpose, smirking against his skin – biting into his pectoral, above his heart. He imagined for an instant he could feel his heart beating under his lips. He let out a growl – he wanted more, so much more. And how perfect he was, it would be criminal to let him go without a mark.
He moved away somewhat, his hands, thigh, and hips the sole points of contact between them. His lips brushing against the man's ear as he purred: “But what if I would like to break you? To make you fall apart under my hands.” His left hand trailing back to the front, fingers curling against the man's groin – lightly, so lightly. “Or under my mouth.” A nip at his earlobe, with a smirk. His free hand came back up, entangling in the man's hair, pulling to expose his throat once more. “All that you want, to have you come undone.”
The man gasped, the hand that was around Jango's neck squeezing it's grip tighter as the man bucked and tried to draw Jango closer, the nails of his other hand pressing down on Jango's shirt, between his shoulder blades.
"You wouldn't like it." He said, after a few moments of gulping down air and trying to press up against Jango's fingers. "Stuff happens, when I fall apart. Strange stuff." He closed his eyes and gulped again, his throat moving as he did. "Can't help it."
Jango stared at him for an instant, processing what the man just told him. He uncurled his fingers, pressing down fully against his hard-on. Damn fabric. He pressed his lips to the man's throat again.
“Force-user, heh?” Teeth on his Adam's apple, as his hand reached the waistband of his breeches, teasing. Curiosity got the better of him. And it was not like he never encountered Force-users besides Jetii. Although civilians were usually very discreet about it.
“It's alright, pet.” He took his time, fingers working open the belt then the laces of the man's pants, lightly touching him. “And fun is no fun unless it's shared, right?” He kissed the man, deep and slow, as his fingers trailed down his hip, slightly to the side until he could press his palm directly on his cock – and gods if that did not make -him- ache. His hips jerking against the man's, an aftershock. He groaned into the kiss, unable to help himself.
The man's nails dug down against the side of Jango's neck, the hand on his back furling into the fabric of his shirt tight enough to make it give a light ripping sound. He bit at Jango's mouth and then kissed him again, doing his best to rub his whole body against Jango's, going for friction and contact.
"Call me that again." He half-said, half-asked, when the kiss ended.
His hips bucked up, so that he could press his cock against Jango's palm, fully hard and a bit leaking already. For a moment, that seemed like all he could, or would do.
Then he pressed the side of his thigh, the one trapped between Jango's legs, against the side of Jango's thigh, tightened his hold on Jango's neck and raised himself up, muscles going tight with the movement, keeping himself still between Jango and the wall, but hoisting himself high enough to wrap his other leg around Jango's waist.
Jango stepped closer to the wall, this one step nearly killing him right there. To feel these strong, slender legs pressing against him, providing most of the support. How it would feel, to have them around his waist, as he fucked him against the wall? He drew closer until they were chest to chest, and Jango had to get rid of his shirt.
“Pet?” he whispered against the man's mouth, low, falsely soft. Who was he to deny a man's simple wishes, after all? He kissed him deeply, and took his time, sucking on his tongue while he stroked his cock. He moaned, lewdly – smirking inwardly. Their position limited his movements, he had to make do. His other hand reached behind him for his knife – it was a small blade he kept on him at all time.
He broke the kiss, bringing the blade up with a motion towards his shirt: “Lend a man a hand?” Offered the handle to the man, his fingers on the cold, sharp blade.
"Happily." The man agreed, accepting the handle of the knife, sliding his arm down Jango's back and then up against his chest, fingers wrapping around it in a way that said that he knew how to handle one but was no expert.
Then he pressed his shoulders back, against the wall, and pushed himself off it, wrapping his leg tighter around Jango's waist, muscles going hard as he held himself up, perfectly vertical.
He shook his head, trying to get the hair out of his eyes, and then dipped it, to kiss Jango again, deep and wet as he hooked the blade in the collar of Jango's shirt, lowered it almost flat against Jango's shoulder and sliced through the material like it was butter, without even looking, making him feel the cold of the blade right above his skin.
No expert, but not a complete stranger to knives either.
Jango found it hard to remain still – a trail of ice followed the blade, as though it had bit into his skin somehow. Both hands went back to cup his ass, to help him keep his balance. Shoulders bunching under the strain, his whole back tense.
Jango shifted, and he pressed himself flush against the man. His skin hot against his. He could feel the flat of the blade, ice-cold against his skin – making him shiver. He made no move to retrieve it. Instead, he lifted him, bracing his weight on his legs, until he was staring up at his partner. His hair had fallen back in his face.
He smirked. “How about we move?”
Jango let go of the man with one hand that he put under the thigh trapped between his own legs. He gave a tug, meaning for him to wrap it around his waist so he could move.
"Stay still for a moment." The man replied, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Jango's, unknowingly giving him a Mandalorian kiss as their noses brushed.
For a single instant, the man was perfectly still, and then his arm's muscles went tight again and he used his hold on Jango's neck and his waist to hold himself on as he raised his other leg up, forcing Jango to put space between their chests, and then to the side, his boot brushing over the top of Jango's right thigh as he repositioned himself.
As soon as the foot slid past it, the leg slipped down along his outer thigh and curled to the side, efficiently, wrapping around Jango's waist. The red-head didn't waste any time, bringing Jango flush against him, kissing him again as he brought the knife, that had slid all the way down to Jango's wrist, back up along Jango's skin.
The blade came out of the shirt and was lowered between his shoulder blades, facing away from his body. The man's thighs went as tight as vice's around Jango's waist, holding the red-head up all on their own as the man let go of Jango's neck, to pass the knife from left hand to right.
His left hand came up, to hold the neck the way the right one had so far, and the knife dipped beneath the collar into the opposite side of his shirt, slicing from there down, past his biceps all the way to the wrist.
Cut along the upper seams of the arms, on both sides, the shirt half fell away and was half shrugged off when Jango helped it along. The front part ended up trapped between their bodies, while the back of the shirt unfolded down, in the direction of the floor. It stopped halfway to here, resting against the back of Jango's legs, as the bottom of the shirt hadn't been cut and was still holding the rest together.
"Fair's fair." The man chuckled, on Jango's lips.
Jango grinned, and kissed him – rough and hungry. Now that the shirt was out of the way, he meant to take full advantage of it. Just not against the wall. Not yet, at any rather.
“Hold on.” He hoisted the man up against him – although it felt as if he was doing only half of it – and walked back, towards the bed. He bent down, arms holding him tight as he lowered him on the mattress. As soon as he could he braced himself on his hands, looking down at the red-head lying down. The bite on his shoulder was blooming red, as was the one on his chest. Not enough, though.
Jango stood up and removed his shirt – the couple of strings that were left of it. He then retrieved the knife from the man's hand, and made short work of his tunic's sleeves. Once done, he trailed the blunt side of the blade along the man's collarbone, down across a nipple, his ribs, until he reached his pants, where he stopped.
The knife was sheathed again, and Jango peeled the tunic from his partner. He stared at him, and he could feel a growl trying to break out of him at the sight – the urge to mark him, to devour him, slammed back into him.
The man stared up at him, breath still slightly hitched from the feeling of having the knife pressed so close to his skin.
"I need you to make good on your word." He said, his voice rough as he stretched out on the bed, deceptively thin arms, those were some impressive compact muscles, stretching up and out as he reached higher, looking for a headboard that wasn't there. He pressed his knuckles against the wall, fingers curling into fists, as he used the hold of his legs around Jango's waist to rub against him.
"I need you to manage to break me." His blue-green eyes had turned a deep teal color, the low light of the room and the shadow created by Jango making his hair look as dark as blood. He didn't sound or look eager, nor desperate.
He looked older than he had so far. Dangerous, a coiled predator that had been long restrained and had only now found the key to the cage he hadn't known he was in. His eyes were in Jango's own, watching him with a hungry intensity that didn't challenge Jango's authority but rather welcomed it and egged it on.
"Because you can take everything I'll throw at you." The man affirmed, his voice so quiet that it was only because the room was shielded from the sounds of the city-planet outside that Jango heard it. "Can't you?"
As he was talking he shuffled a bit, feet pressing together and working the boots off them, and then, on the 'you', his legs tightened and the man rolled his hips forward, pressing his still-covered cock against Jango's own, and up, dragging the motion out and rubbing them together, through their pants.
His mouth curled up in an insolent, challenging smirk. His eyes crinkled at the corner, flicking over Jango's body and then back up to his eyes as the smirk grew. "Good."
Jango gave him a feral grin, baring his teeth for an instant before he fell on him, hands catching his weight on either side of his head. He kissed him – light, teasing – the barest hint of teeth on his lips.
The pressure against his hips was unrelenting – he reveled in it. He had found his match, apparently. He wasted no time, sliding down the man's body minutely. He did not break eye-contact, not even when he set out to map out his chest with his tongue – faint sheen of sweat – salty tang that made him want more.
Teeth grazing harshly across his ribs, nails mirroring the gesture. Hand crawled up his chest – knuckle brushing a nipple. His whole body pressed against him – his cock trapped between them. Disregarding the pain of his own cock restrained by pants now too tight, the urge to touch himself for some relief. No, not now.
His lips encountered a scar – must have been deep – licked it – as though blood was still seeping through a long healed wound. His hand resting on the man's chest, fingers rubbing a nipple, then the other – not enough to provide distraction. Sliding further down – his mouth found it. A spot right on the inner side of his hipbone – right above the waistline.
He laid a kiss there, making sure the man was looking back at him as he bit down – harsher than ever before. His hand dragging down on his chest, blunt nails raking on soft skin from his collarbone to his hip – slow and hard. He knew there would be marks, long lines cutting down across his chest, not missing his nipple, until they reached the waistline.
He licked at the bite, soothing the pain, ensuring it would feel colder in the air. He did the same for the angry welts he had carved with his nails, moving upward as he did. He could feel blood pulsing under his lips.
He kissed the man once more, thoroughly. Moved a knee to the bed to keep his balance, leaving his hands free to roam, caressing, stroking – feather-like touch to the bruises he just created. “Any specific requests?” he purred, the sound rumbling through his chest almost too low to be heard.
The man gasped, looking up at him with eyes where the teal had become a ring around the black of the enlarged pupils, his breathing ragged as he looked at Jango like he was a lifeline of sorts.
"Yes." He nodded, his accent definitely roughened up to a provincial burr. "Claim me, own me, mark me up in ways I won't be able to forget." His legs hitched slightly higher, his calves pressing down against the small of Jango's back, allowing the man to keep rolling his hips, simulating a strong fuck.
"I need to not be in control, to not think, to be pushed to the brink and past it." He rested his head back, offering his throat to Jango but careful not to break the eye contact. "Please."
Jango nodded, before whispering, tone sincere, breathing harshly: “I will.” He ground his hips against the man's, pinning him down effectively. “Until you forget who you are.” He moved his head to the side of the man's neck, reaching for the first mark he had imprinted on him, biting once more, hard enough to draw blood, sucking on his skin – lapping at the dark, angry bruise. This will remain for a while.
He smiled secretively at this, pleased with how it contrasted with his pale skin. It was almost obscene – but no more than all these scars from fights. He reached behind him, unsheathing his knife again – metal singing against the edge of the sheath as he did.
Jango retreated, remaining as close to the man as he could, until he was kneeling at the bottom of the bed, between his legs. He tugged at his left leg, until the man let go. He then took the knife in his left hand, in an inverted hold, and pressed the blade to his hip, the sharp size facing up as he slid it under the waistband of his pants. He adjusted his grip on the handle – the razor-sharp blade cutting through the threads.
He took his eyes from the man's face, intent on what he was doing. He bent his head forward, lips ghosting over his inner thigh before he pressed his mouth to the man's covered cock – he felt so hot. His hand remained steady, his whole demeanor restrained, promising more but not giving just yet.
The red-head kept himself still, his reaction to the feeling of Jango's lips on his cock limited to an in-drawn breath and goosebumps breaking out on his skin. There was a twitch, as if he'd been about to push up or maybe to try and get more friction, rub his cock against Jango's lips, but it was only that, a twitch, and nothing more.
He had perfect control over his own body, reacting to any mark Jango left on him with pleased sounds or, in the case of the bite on the neck, with a very quiet moan. Pain didn't seem to bother him in the slightest, or at least pain as light as that of scratches and bruises was unremarkable to him.
Not surprising, considering that, even though he wasn't the most scarred man his age Jango had ever met by far, he still had his fair share of scars and reminders.
"Do you want me to keep this position or may I touch you?" The man asked, voice quite and hoarse, eyes still on Jango, gaze heavy enough for Jango to feel it without needing to look up.
Jango took an instant to consider. But it was too early. No matter how tempting it was to let the man touch him, his position growing almost painful. He could not remember when he had ignored his own needs for this long. But if it meant he got to unravel this poised, controlled, and so beautiful – he would not lie – man, he was willing to bear with it. It would be worth it.
“Think you can wait for a bit longer?” He smiled, relishing into another minute twitch of the man's hips as his lips brushed against him again. Hand steady, he cut through the fabric, the back of the blade pressing against his thigh, down to his knee. Pushed the outer sliver of cloth from his leg with the blade, the tip scratching his skin.
He repeated the motion with the remaining half, to the man's inner thigh – the touch intimate, careful. Blade so sharp it traced a red line on his skin, a nick of the knife. Blood welled up, and he pressed his tongue to it – the cut so thin it closed almost immediately. He mouthed at the spot, sucking and biting.
Meanwhile, Jango swapped hands with the knife, his now free hand running up his thigh to his hip – close, so close, but not pushing the pants from the man's cock. He looked up at the man with a wicked grin. Fingers coming closer still. He waited for an instant, placing the blade under the waistband, ready to cut.
He kept his free hand on the man's hip to hold him still – not that it was necessary, but it gave him a greater sense of control. The blade began to cut, barely making it past the thicker waistband when Jango reached out for the fabric still covering the man's cock. Gathered the cloth in his teeth, slowly removing it at the same pace he was cutting though the remaining part of the pants. Making sure not to yank the cloth away but drag it along his skin as he did. Letting go only when he had reach the knee with his knife, settling back to admire his handiwork.
If the man was handsome fully dressed, he truly was a sight now. He could not take his eyes away, hunger rearing its head and the hand that was not holding the knife digging into the man's hip in a poor attempt at holding back.
He could still feel the man gaze on himself, though the red-head had yet to answer his question.
The man's body was taught, all hard muscles and very little fat, only enough for it to be a healthy amount. He had strong thighs and legs, clearly used to making much use of them in whatever fighting style he preferred, and with the way his arms extended up past his head, it was not hard to see the muscles that were there too, less developed but still present.
He had a beginning of definition to his abs but not too much and though his face and hands were at least somewhat tanned, the rest of his body was pale, with a trail of red hair leading down to his hard, leaking cock.
"You don't have to hold back with me." The man rasped, voice low and hoarse. "I don't want you to. Just let yourself go." And this wasn't him asking or begging or pleading. He wasn't egging or challenging Jango either.
He was welcoming of all that Jango had to offer, of all that was promised in Jango's eyes, in his rough hold and in the knife pressing against the skin of his knee. He accepted it all gladly and looked eager, hungry for more.
Jango's mind blanked for an instant, and he let go of the knife long enough to undo his pants – the merest touch provoke a choked sound from him. The fabric loosened, and he felt he could breathe again. He could not take it anymore, knife momentarily forgotten as he put his hands on the man's thighs, stroking him, pushing his legs further apart.
Rising slightly, Jango took hold of the blade again, letting it course up the man's inner thigh, steel dragging on his skin, not cutting deep enough to cause pain or maim. Metal still cold – it surprised him, even if it shouldn't. He followed the path with his tongue, sometimes stopping for a harsh bite, while his other hand danced on the man's skin, nails digging into the hard muscle of his leg.
The blade stopped dangerously close to his cock, and Jango laid it flat in such a way to avoid accidentally cutting into the red-head more than he planned to. Later. His eyes trained on the man's face, he mouthed at his cock briefly, as he had done when he was still clothed.
With the flat of his tongue, he proceeded to lick him from base to crown, collecting precome, finally tasting him. He hummed in appreciation – it had been so long. A teasing flick of his tongue along the slit, twice. Not once did he close his eyes, intent as he wast to burn these instants in his mind. He laid the knife to the side of the bed, far enough to avoid accidental cuts.
His hands moved along the man's body, then coming to pin his hips down. He swiftly rose to kiss the man, mindful of keeping the touch to a minimum. He was painful aware of his pants chaffing against his own cock. He groaned into the kiss at the discomfort.
When he let go, he took a moment to stare into his eyes – noting how dark they now were, and he purred. “I want to hear you. Scream, or curse me. Let go, I'll catch you.”
Jango ducked back down, not waiting for a reply. Still holding firmly the man down, he lightly took his cock in his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip, tongue teasing him slightly. Accentuating the pressure as he went down slowly, taking more and more, occasionally showing a hint of teeth. He could feel a tremor under his hands.
"Kayfoundo nek!" The red-head gasped, in a blissed out tone, making it sound like a compliment, the rough accent completely gone, replaced by the kind of accent Jango would have expected to hear in Tattoine's market or slave quarters.
He would have smiled if he could. Instead, he hummed his appreciation, making a rumbling sound deep in his chest that he held as long as he could before he had to breathe. He sucked him hard, hollowing his cheeks as he did so. Relenting only to growl again, looking up at the man as he moved his hands from his hips, one after the other. An open invitation – he would not restrain him now.
He shifted back up, teeth grazing the sides of his cock lightly, carefully. He moved forward, kneeling up against the bed and it was all he could do not to rut against the frame. He would not touch himself, he would not. He was going mad. One hand moving to the man's chest, fingers digging into the bruise he made on his side – the indent of his teeth in sharp contrast to his skin.
He bobbed his head, taking him as deep as he could, sucking him hard, before pulling away almost completely, using his tongue to stroke the head, dipping along his slit – only to resume his earlier action. Rhythm growing slightly erratic as he was losing his grip on his control, doing his best to see him come undone with his mouth alone.
"Chuba reeta sookee koopa." The man cussed him out, his hips twitching in little aborted bucks as he fought to keep himslef still, body starting to look shinier in the half-light as he worked up good, clean sweat under Jango's attention.
He switched to Rodian, to call Jango some truly filthy names for someone who enjoyed draining a male of his seed and then to a couple of other languages, his accent flickering through local variants for each species.
Finally, he lapsed into a rather crude haakar pirates bout of name-calling as his body went taught, shoulders pressing down and closed fists unfurling for him to press the palms and fingers of his hand to the wall.
The red-head managed to get out a warning in Basic before he came, with a shout, and a wave of pressure washed over Jango.
It pushed him down for a few moment, moving on to slam against the walls as the bed rattled and the light fixtures in the ceiling, the ones they hadn't been using, sparked and then died. A sense of glorious abandon and guilty giving in washed over Jango with the pressure, followed by a sense of sheer bliss and deep freedom.
It perfectly matched the expressions flickering on his face, though it didn't show the surprise that had punched through the red-head when he'd started coming, making him look overwhelmed by the strength of his orgasm. His eyes remained the Jango the whole time, latching on him like a lifeline in wave of pleasure and bliss that stole through his body, making him shake apart under the bounty hunter.
Not only a Force user, then, but a strong one, who sagged down on the bed bonelessly, as soon as he finished coming.
It took Jango a moment to gather his bearings – he could still feel an ache in his bones and muscles from when he tried to resist the pressure. And still, the echo of the red-head's orgasm zinging through his nerves, along his spine. Jango licked his softening cock clean with long, languid swipes of his tongue. Not teasing so much, and being careful not to be too rough.
Moving back up proved a painful endeavor. He stood, stretching his legs for the instant it took him to remove his pants. He gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply when the fabric brushed against his painfully hard cock. Seconds, taking deep breaths.
As soon as he was done, he moved back to the bed, reveling in the sight of the red-head sprawled there, looking thoroughly spent. He licked his lips, could still taste him. Jango went to lie above him, resting his elbows on either side of his head. The bruise on his neck was darker, his skin flushed still. He kissed him, slow and deep. Jango grinned at him after, a hand brushing his hair from his face. Damp.
He was careful not to lie down against the man – not trusting himself not to break down altogether if he touched him. And he craved that touch, even more now than he had when the red-head asked him about it earlier.
“You may touch me, now. All yours.” Jango did try to keep it playful, but his voice came out hoarse.
Thighs wrapped around his waist and then, in a burst of speed too fast to track, Jango found himself lying down with his back on the mattress.
The red-head's body was pressed against his and a warm hand was cradling the back of his head, as the man's mouth bit and nipped at his. There was pressure on him, hands that weren't hands stroking along his thigh, exploring his back, cupping his ass, wrapping around his biceps, scratching along his forearms.
"Tell me your name, so I will scream it when I come next." The man's rough voice enticed, as he pressed his body down in a rolling movement that made their cock press against each other and rub together.
Jango arched his back, trying to get more of that deliciously painful friction. He was drowning in the sensations of being touched, brought back when nails dug into his back, carving his skin into burning grooves. It tingled, spreading further into his muscles, making him tense.
He stared back at this devil of a man, not having expected a proficient Force-user by far. It felt so good. He bent a knee to ground himself as he rolled his hips sharply. He growled – it was almost too much, not enough, he had to have more.
He lifted a hand to cup the man's head, mirroring his gesture, to bring him closer. Close enough to reach and kiss him, bite him. He had to mark him and he will do it. He had time.
“Jango.” He breathed in harshly as the pressure on his cock intensified, willing himself to remain calm. “But I think I'll need yours sooner, pet.” He kissed him, and made good on his promise as he bit his lip sharply enough to draw blood once more. He licked it away, smearing it on their lips, tasting copper, mixing with the after-taste of his come.
"Ben." The man gasped, in his Coruscanti low levels' burr. "My name is Ben."
His eyes narrowed, in a way that both deeply focused and lazily dangerous and then a warm sensation wrapped around Jango's cock and Ben's own, drawing them together like a hand closing around them. It didn't stop another sensation to add itself, that of a tongue putting pressure without wetness around Jango's cock.
"And you can scream it now." He crooned, a Mandalore accent wrapping around the words and deepening them, as he rolled his hips and scratched Jango's back up more.
Jango cursed – haar'chak! He could not hold out, his entire body going taunt. Maybe it was the sensation of something warm, almost hot, around his cock – a furnace. Maybe it was everything else. His entire control snapped.
He had one hand on Ben's shoulder, the other tangling in the sheets – his grip vice-like for an instant as his orgasm crashed into him. He could not breathe, could not see. His eyes had closed. His body moving of its own accord as he came, his hips buckling uncontrollably.
His high lasted, he did not know how long. He drew a breath, almost choking out Ben's name as soon as he could breathe again. He could not move just yet, his skin was burning. It had been too long indeed, but good thing it had.
The sensations quieted, less stroking and teasing.
The feeling of being touched all over settled over him like a comfortable blanket as Ben pressed soft kisses against his lips, rubbed his cheek against Jango's, beard scraping in a way that told him he was going to heave beard burn come morning.
Jango reached out to brush Ben's hair from his face, enjoying the attention in his blissed out state. “Vor'e.” It was all he could get out in this moment, and he meant it. He had been around a lot, met many people. But Ben was one step ahead.
He kissed him, his hands running down Ben's back. He could feel other scars there, but he had yet to mark him there. He dipped his chin to kiss his throat. Fingers pressing against the small of Ben's back.
“Although I'm not quite done with you yet.” He breathed in, licked his path up to Ben's jaw, not minding the scratching sensation of his hair. He kissed him, deep and still hungry. He would be damned if he let this man out of that place before the sun came up – or even later. “Something about claiming, marking you.” He leaned back, a smirk on his lips.
“You haven't made me forget my name yet." Ben agreed, with a curl of his lips that was an insolent smirk if Jango had ever seen one. "And two bites is a paltry attempt at marking, isn't it?" His voice was all High Coruscanti now, lending to the meaning of the words an additional level of dismissive challenge as Ben ran his hands down Jango's body, nails scratching his sides up. "I have put more scratches on you that you have on me."
Jango's smirk grew wider. This was a fair response indeed.
“How about we start working on that, heh?” He rolled away from Ben, to the side of the bed where he had left his knife. He picked it up, brushing his thumb against the blade. It was sharp enough to make a clean cut. For once he was glad he had not kept a serrated blade – that would have been problematic. He crawled back to Ben, knife in full view as he left the tip of the blade rest on Ben's ankle.
He applied some pressure, drawing a drop of blood that looked almost black in the half-light. He did not look at Ben on purpose, keeping his eyes on his work as he trailed the blade higher on his leg – tracing a red line in cold steel that made Ben groan in pleasure. Jango increased pressure on his thigh, then allowed it to become lighter when it rested on Ben's hip. Blood welled up along the cut – coming to a sluggish halt fast – but not fast enough.
The alcohol in his system made it flow thinner. Jango did not stop, tracing his way across Ben's side, sharper again across his ribs. Taking his time. Stopped on his collarbone. A flick of the blade to the side, at an angle. Cut deeper there, dark, angry – he licked the blood away as Ben moaned loudly, body shivering.
Sitting back on his heels, casting a pleased glance at his handiwork. Only then did he look at Ben with a predatory grin. “Roll over.”
"You do know this is the sort of thing that should be discussed before getting to the bedroom?" Ben asked, running a hand through his hair, pushing them back and away from his face as he looked up at Jango, amused and lazy, still clearly quite drunk. “Not that I'm going to stop you. Just wanted to bring it up.” He added, after a beat, making it unnecessary for Jango to actually come up with an answer to the question.
Ben gave it a moment more and then rolled over, showing a back that was as muscled as his legs. He was built like a practitioner of fighting arts, with hints of a swordsman's bulk, though his arms weren't nearly muscled enough for that.
He had been in battle, that was for sure, and more than once.
Jango scooted over to get his knees on either side of Ben's hips. Mindful of the knife, he explored his back, letting the hilt follow along his spine, as though counting his vertebrae. Silently, he laid the knife down, and began massaging Ben's shoulders – after all, it would not do cutting into someone's back without helping them relax first.
He dug the heel of his hands on either side of Ben's spine, fingers curling around the juncture of neck and shoulders, and rolled his hand forward. He repeated the motion a few times before moving to Ben's shoulders, methodically working down his back. He worked all the tension from Ben, until he could almost see it melt away from him.
His skin still faintly damp, hot under his fingers. He stopped only when he reached the small of Ben's back, stroking his cheeks, marveling at how smooth his skin was in spite of all the fight.
He slid forward, his chest against Ben's back, as he reached for the knife. “I will stop, if you tell me to.” And he would. Although he was pretty certain he was not going to hear a protest just yet.
He did not pull back just yet, and brushed the hair from the nape of his neck.
A moment later, he bit him, much harder than before, hard enough to feel his teeth sink in his flesh as Ben moaned, loudly.
The sensation sent a jolt of hunger through him, which turned into desire again. His cock twitched, pressed against Ben's ass – anticipation had him growl against his skin. He released him, slowly backing up, before he pressed the blade to the welts his teeth had imprinted in his skin. Deep, almost purple already.
He pressed the tip of the blade to the right of Ben's spine, a bit below his shoulder. He cut deeper – he would not tease. He would make sure this mark remains for years to come, for all to see. For Ben to know. He brought the knife down, a long, straight line along Ben's spine, stopping below his shoulder-blade.
Blood flowed from the cut, brighter than before. It welled up and ran down – not enough to be worrisome. He caught Ben's discarded former shirt and used it to dab it away. To avoid having too much blood everywhere. He proceeded in the same way to the left side of Ben's back. Marks symmetrical. The first installment of his claim.
The man's breathing was quiet, controlled in a way that spoke of concentration and not as much pain as he could have been in if he'd had a lower pain threshold than a true warrior's. Ben didn't twitch, nor did he try to move away, holding himself still under Jango and letting him work unimpeded.
Jango's mind reeled – the design very clear in his mind, and he could see drawn in blood. That man was his, and he will remain so even after Jango will be done. And how much he wanted to fuck him, just as he was carving his signature into his back – his.
Ben gasped, hands fisting into the sheets, and then he groaned, low and deep and sensual, as goosebumps rose onto his skin.
"Oh this is so different from the usual." He said quietly, his voice a bit slurred, the air around them turning heavier as the man did his best to keep himself still under Jango's knife. "Usually they just want to hurt and for me to remember that."
"Acyk gar bal ni, ni nakamir haar Mand'Alor bal, ori'skraan, riduur, yaim' dab'ika o'r solus Coruscant chaavla sa shebs be'striili bar." He sounded both plain drunk and lust drunk, as if the fact that Jango was marking him was turning his brain off more than having his dick sucked, his accent pure Mandalore, rather than one of the other planets of the Mandalorian system.
"You are being very loud." He added, before the previous words had fully processed, switching back to Basic but retaining the accent, making a vague gesture toward his head. "Only one person left who would put that symbol on anyone and think it his."
Jango smiled at this. Well, so much for anonymity. At the same time, it also meant he would not have to pretend that the carvings on his back had no meaning. In fact, he had a mind to get even louder about it.
He wiped the blood away, and then proceeded with the top part of his marking. He worked cautiously - not to inflict unnecessary pain to Ben, and keep the cuts as neat as possible. He paused when he was done with the stylized eyes. The wounds raw, deep enough to leave a scar.
Using his free hand for balance, he bent down to lay kisses on Ben’s neck, along his spine - the barest brush of lips on the cuts he had made.
“Beautiful.” And his - even for today alone. He pushed the thought away. He will make sure that his mark would be worthy of the man he was carving it on. It did not matter that they only just met.
That man was a warrior, spoke his own language, and asked Jango to claim him all the same. And so he would - as an equal and no less.
He rose again, his free hand moving down Ben’s side in a soothing way. Goosebumps under his fingers, sweat forming, mingling with the blood in a reddish sheen. Jango will get him to the freshers as soon as he was done to wash it away.
He began with the bottom half of it, to spread the pain more evenly. Blade running down his back, stead and precise. His other hand not stopping its ministration - not so much to distract than to ground them both in something that was not pain.
To see his mark emerge on his skin, coming alive with each breath he was taking. Skin bruised, raw. And still that mantra - that this mark would be only the visible part. That he was not done - it was merely an interlude. He wanted him so badly.
He was hard again, struggling not to think about it. Lust threatened to consume him entirely, the feeling of Ben’s body -falsely- trapped between his legs, under his hands. Pity he had to keep his hand steady, his body remaining as still as he could.
"The hand's helping and don't worry about the pain. I can take it." Ben's voice groaned, from the pillow he was resting his face on, without the man raising his head. "In fact, you've gotten me hard too."
He remained still for Jango, letting him work away, his hair hiding most of his face. His breath was even, to the point that he looked like he was relaxing more and more, rather than tensing up in any way.
"Not that I like pain, but you're being so awfully distracting, so bright you burn, that I can focus on you and feel it less clearly." He added, still slurring in that lust-drunk drawl of his.
Jango was done with the lower half of the mark. The stylized tusks were next. He laid the knife down, and moved to sit on Ben’s legs so it was easier for him to reach the brand. In places, blood had already congealed, or even started drying to a crust.
He kissed the edge of the symbol, in reverence - for Ben, who had not moved once, for not having shied away even after recognizing it. He followed the path of the cut, licking the blood away - not unlike predators often did. Not that he considered Ben as prey.
Up and up, clearing most of the blood away, hands roving Ben’s skin - slow and hungry, with an undercurrent of almost devotion. He kissed the spot on his neck where he had bitten him - he could still see the imprint of his teeth.
Hands lingering, moving under Ben, down his stomach. An arm around his waist - his face against his shoulder, mindful of the pattern of pain across his back. Right hand sliding further down until he could curl his fingers around Ben’s cock, stroking him lazily - teasing. His whole body pressed against his back - and he would probably get blood over himself. Good.
“Soon,” he purred against his skin, keeping the agonizingly slow pace of his hand. And suddenly, he let go, smirking at Ben's dismayed groan as he picked up the knife again.
Started with the left tusk, and it took shape slowly, the design so clear in his mind. A turn across Ben’s rib cage and down. His free hand resuming its caress on Ben’s side, tracing soothing circles down to his hip. Tightened his grip sharply for an instant when the man's briefing increased and then relaxed when it evened out again.
He then resumed, to the other side - blood seeping from the wounds still. He could smell it, taste it - he craved it in a near-feral way. To know that he was responsible for shedding Ben’s blood - not to torture him, or punish him. He had never done that to anyone else - no one had ever asked either. It was exhilarating.
Soon, he was done, completely done. The symbol of True Mandalorians, spanning Ben’s entire back from his neck to his hips, across his ribs. His movements, his breathing, twisting the lines. Alive.
He put the knife away, reaching out to toss it on the pile of discarded clothes. He ran his fingers along the outline of the mark, smearing blood and sweat in his wake, and gods it must hurt. Stopped when he reached the bottom of the mark. Slid his hands back to Ben’s shoulders, his whole body following.
He tried to resist the urge to roll his hips and thought better of it, grinding against Ben, slow and hard.
“All done,” he whispered in Ben’s ear. His voice was just a low rumbling sound, thick with lust.
"I can see it." Ben gasped, eyes closed as he moved with Jango, following the roll of his hips by rolling his own, pressing his cock down against the mattress. "It's so vivid in your mind."
His scent was mingled with the smell of blood now, the bottom of his hair bloodied by what blood had come out of the mark on his neck. It was between them and on the sheets too.
"I want you to fuck me, Jango." Ben asked, pushing himself back and up to rub against his cock, a gasp the only give away of the pain the movement must have costed him. "Before we dry up stuck together, before you clean me up. I want you to fuck me."
He took a deep breath, fingers curling into the sheets, and when he spoke, his voice was hungry. "Make me feel how much you want me for me."
Who was Jango to deny him? He braced himself on his knees, winding his arms around Ben’s chest before pulling back, bringing Ben with him. Jango was now kneeling, Ben leaning against him completely. He could feel the blood starting to stick indeed. He did not care.
He kept an arm around Ben’s shoulder, hand holding his face to bring his head back. He kissed his jaw, nipped at his throat. His other hand on Ben’s hip, gripping him tight, holding him as Jango pushed against him. He rolled his hips - relishing the feeling of Ben’s ass against his cock. He could not waiting until he would finally sink into him, fuck him - just to think how hot, how tight he certainly was.
His control slipped through his fingers.
“How do you want me to fuck you?” He trailed his fingers along Ben’s hip. “Like this? Your back to me. So I could see my mark move as I fuck you hard, and prevent you from reaching for me.” He started stroking him, lightly still, a faint ersatz of what he planned on giving him - in time with the roll of his hips.
He nipped at Ben’s earlobe to get his full attention. “Or would you be on your back so I could see your face when you come? Have you clawing at my back as you scream?”
He tilted Ben’s face to the side, twisting so he could kiss him - wet, hard - and the hunger burning hot through him.
Ben kissed him back, wrapping his right hand around Jango's thighs, pressing his nails into Jango's skin as he held on to him, biting at Jango's mouth and prolonging the kiss.
With the left, he reached out blindly, fingers skimming over the wall before they found the right panel, pressing it and making it pop open, revealing a little collection of tubes. He showed the image to Jango, passing along the information that they were to slick him up and make him easier to fuck.
He didn't answer his questions in words, either.
Images blossomed in Jango's mind, of Ben kneeling in front of Jango, back to Jango's chest, being fucked into incoherence. Of him falling forward on his hands and knees, to be mounted as the scars came alive and more blood spilled from them. Of being rolled onto his back and fucked until he shouted, carving furrows on Jango's back for Jango to remember him by.
Jango bringing him to the shower, to use the water to make separating their glued skins more easy, making Ben splay his hands on the wall and fucking him until his legs couldn't hold him anymore.
The images tasted like secrets, tangible forbidden things that Ben could not, would not have allowed himself on any other night, with any other being. No reason would have been or was going to be enough for him to go to someone else with this.
Only with Jango.
Jango, who shuddered under the onslaught of images, so close he could feel all of it. It was not unlike what he had experiences when Ben came the first time.
After a moment, he shook himself. Right now, they had to get him cleaned up a bit. Not that he expected it to last – but blood was drying fast and getting sticky. Soon it will be unpleasant, even downright more painful for Ben.
Of course, it was also the perfect occasion to take full advantage of the ideas Ben had shared.
So Jango got up, after kissing Ben again, motioning him to stand. Oh, he was going to fuck him alright, that was for sure. The shower sounded like a great place to start. He retrieved one of the tubes from its hiding place, and offered his other hand to Ben. He refused to rush him – the cuts were deep, and must hurt still.
He could almost imagine it – blood pumping as though following the traces, burning the wounds. Jango let Ben to the freshers, the light thankful coming up on its own. It was almost too bright after the near darkness of the room. Stark, white – Ben's hair standing out, the tips stained dark red. Facing him – claiming his lips in a searing kiss.
Jango stepped back into the shower – water, thank gods for small mercies. Turning on the water, tube left to rest on a shelf on the right. Water just this side of warm – not enough to aggravate the bleeding. He went back to collect Ben – just not carrying him. Brought him under the spray – and blood leaking from the wounds, from his hair. Jango getting behind him – found the soap. To ease the blood away – avoiding scrubbing the already forming scabs.
Water running on his skin, washing everything away, cool water. His fingers brushing the cuts, suds washed away – red – down the drain. His hands on Ben's sides, his hips. He kissed his shoulder. Pushing his knee between Ben's legs as he took the tube in one hand, the other running down his back one last time.
The water felt warmer, for some reason. His hand moving past the last of the mark he left, fingers slipping down the cleft of his ass, teasing him. Promising.
"Some endorphin would be greatly appreciated." Ben half-joked, voice hoarse as he spread his legs a little bit more, taking half a step back, pressing against Jango.
He raised his arms, the mark moving in a way that had to sting, and pressed the palms of his hands against the wall, fingers splayed out.
It gave a slightly diagonal incline to his back, guaranteeing Jango would see the mark move, whenever he got to fucking Ben.
"Ready when you are." The red-head said. "Ready to scream your name or your title, whichever you prefer."
“My name. Although the title is tempting.” He uncapped the tube, and poured some of its content in his hand, rubbing it with his fingers to test its texture. Satisfied, he took a liberal amount of the stuff, coating his fingers with it. He left the tube on the shelf, still uncapped.
He ran his clean hand down Ben’s flank, just because he wanted to. Went back to where he left off, palm and fingers slick on Ben’s skin - one finger brushing against his hole, teasing, smearing the lube on him.
He pressed harder - he did not have it in him to teasing him too much. His free hand moved to Ben’s chest, stroking his skin, raking his nails into him. He pressed his finger into him, slowly, carefully - and stop in his track to breathe. Lust clouded his mind.
He then moved slowly, breath caught in his chest.
“You’re so hot, so kriffing tight…” Crooked his finger. His free hand moving to stroke Ben, to distract him when he added another digit. Waiting for him to adjust, waiting for him to relax. And only then did he move again, in time with his strokes. “I want to fuck you hard. Or maybe I should just fuck you with my fingers until you beg for my cock.” He could see it in his mind, so clearly it burned. Deeper, looking for that one spot that would send Ben reeling.
"I said please before." Ben gasped, voice full of humor. "But I am not the begging type."
He shivered and then swore, a simple kriff and then grunted. "A spot to the side but the angle's perfect."
Jango shifted accordingly, and then he could feel it.
“Was worth a try…” He brushed his fingers against Ben’s prostate, lightly at first, then applied more pressure. He then bega stroking him without pattern, to prevent Ben from building any sense of expectation.
He kissed the nape of Ben’s neck, the open cut on his spine. Grazed his teeth on it, gently, before kissing it again to soothe the pain. He pressed their bodies together, it was still not enough. He tightened his grip on Ben’s cock, in time with a harder stroke to his prostate. If it weren’t for his own burning needs, he would be glad to keep that up for a very long time.
"Kriff." Ben gasped, repeating himself, fingers curling a bit against the wall as he clenched his muscles tight around Jango's fingers, head lowering to rest his forehead against the wall. "You're so full of need, I can taste it. It's bleeding all over me."
He moaned, the sound quiet, pressing his hips back, pressing himself against Jango's fingers, making his ass brush against Jango's cock. "A little more and then you can finally take me." He promised, voice rough. "Can't wait to feel it."
Jango let out a sound that he would deny to his dying day to be a whine. He was almost shaking under the strain – so much for keeping it up for a long time, all it took was a few words from Ben and he was back to square one. He did not stop, kept up with his ministrations – no longer to wreck Ben completely but to prepare him.
He wondered for an instant what his need tasted like to Ben, and pushed the thought away. He might ask later but it was not important right now. He let go off his cock, bringing his hand to Ben face, to bring his face to the side to he could kiss him. The water was making it difficult to breathe. He did not mind. Drowning seemed like a perfectly good way to go if it meant drowning here.
Ben kissed him back, following his lead but also turning the kiss languid and deep, lengthening it even as he rolled his hips back and forth, simulating the movements he was going to make while being fucked by Jango.
Jango drew back for an instant, to check on his handiwork – the cuts even, the curves graceful. Blood thinning now – water too cool to make it worse. It looked so bright under the white light. Painfully so.
Ben whispered Jango's name on his lips, licking his own and looking at him with half-lidded eyes, deceptively soft in a predatory way, his expression pleased, as he pressed back, against Jango's hard cock.
Jango pressed back against Ben's side, kissing him – long and slow. Making it last as much as he could, hunger back to clawing at his belly, up his chest.
"I'm ready for you, Jango." He said, voice low and hoarse. "So get your fingers out of me and show me how good your cock feels when you're thrusting it into me."
Jango smirked back at Ben, and stared into his eyes with an expression that grow more feral as seconds passed. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled his fingers out. He got the uncapped tube again – the substance now seeming cold. He did not look away as he spread it on his cock – his breathing coming in pants. Even with the steadiest touch, the feeling of his hand was painful.
He did not linger, instead stepped behind Ben. He ran his hands down his sides, down to his ass, fingers digging into his flesh. He leaned forward, nipped at Ben's shoulder, as he spread his cheeks slightly. Whispering, so softly it was barely audible with the water running. “I want to see you take me in, see your hole take all of my cock – slow, deep.” He trailed off, brushing the head of his cock against Ben, teasing.
Until he could not bear with this any longer and pushed inside, slowly. He felt like he was going to die. He felt like he was dying. He was burning. He could not help it, biting harshly on his shoulder to ground himself. Ben was so tight around him, the sensation overwhelming, forcing a growl out of him. “You feel so perfect.” And he did. He did not stop until he was completely buried in him, breathing harsh – one hand gripping Ben's hip to prevent himself from fucking him senseless. His other hand around Ben's cock, stroking him lightly.
"Stop holding yourself back." Ben grunted, moving with him and giving an added thrust at the end to make him slip out a bit and fuck his hand at the same time, pushing back immediately after, making his cock slide back in.
"I told you already." He spread his legs a bit and planted his feet down. "I can take it, so stop playing around and start taking what you want."
Jango had to bite his tongue not to retort something about enjoying playing. He really did. He did not say anything. Although he would enjoy riling Ben up a bit more, there were priorities. He pulled back almost completely before slamming back into Ben – keeping his hand steady as he did. He had meant to keep a slower pace but he could not.
He set a harsh, almost punishing pace, and tightened his grip on Ben. He looked down, at the mark he had made – it was rippling with their every move – he could see Ben's lean muscles move under his skin, his shoulders tense as he braced himself on the wall. Jango moved his free hand to Ben's neck, tilting his head back.
He kissed his throat, teeth grazing against his skin, and he bit down – hard – in time with a particularly harsh thrust. He rolled his hips, breaking his pace by moving slowly. Curled his fingers around the base of Ben's cock more tightly – his hand on his throat applying more pressure for an instant. He knew he was not going to last, no matter how much he wanted it to go on. A low purr, Ben's name spoken against his skin – rumbling in his chest.
"Oh, oh f-" Ben cut the word with a groan as he came hard, hips bucking as he fucked Jango's hand harder. His fingers closed in fists and the pressure came back, making the walls around them vibrate and grabbing hold of Jango, scratching and clinging at him like a tangible presence.
"Jango!" The red-head's call of his name, was strangled as his weight dropped on Jango's, the pressure vanishing at the same time as Ben's legs collapsed, a choked sound of pain escaping the man when his back sagged against Jango's chest.
The feeling of Ben's body clenching around him, and that pressure leaving in its wake bright, red pain across his entire body threw Jango over the edge. Ecstasy tore though him, holding onto Ben as he came, his name dying on his lips. His breathing ragged, he tried to catch himself, shoulder colliding against the tiled wall. Sharp pain from a scratch. He wrapped his arms around Ben to prevent him from collapsing.
He pulled out carefully, trying as best as he could not to hurt him too much. Making him turn around to that his back would not press against his chest anymore. He slid to the floor, unable to hold on any longer, bringing Ben down with him. His mind was buzzed. He felt pleasantly sated. Oh, he did want more, there was no question there. But in this moment, he was content. Enough to ignore the sting of water on the cuts that criss-crossed his body. He could feel them up to his thighs, his hands.
He remained like this for a while, before reaching up for the soap. He worked it in his hand until it lathered well, before he started cleaning Ben. Started with his back, taking advantage of the fact that he seemed out of it to avoid causing him too much pain. Went on with his shoulders, arms – even his hair, lathering soap first in his hand every time he had to get more.
He let Ben rest for a little more while he cleaned himself quickly, never mind the soap burning in the deep gouges on his back and hips – the deepest he had. As soon as he was done, he crouched next to Ben, offering him both hands. “You think you can stand up and stay up for a moment?” He had spoken softly, not wishing to intrude on whatever was going on in his mind. Wanting to just take care of him.
"Yes." Ben agreed, taking his hands. "I'll need a moment, to adjust before I can stand on my own." He forewarned, letting Jango pull himself up on his feet, face still faintly flushed and eyes half-lidded as he watched Jango's body flex and move.
"I should apologize for using you as a scratching post." He commented, enough slyness in his words to give away the fact that he wasn't going on to do it. "Give me a few more minutes and I'll even be able to walk all the way to the bed." He joked, voice still rough and hair a sodden mess, plastered to his head, his throat and the bite-mark there moving with each swallow or intake of breath he took.
Jango nodded, smirking slightly. “Apologies will not be accepted unless they are heartfelt. And you look quite the opposite of sorry.” He reached for Ben's neck, fingers brushing the mark he had left – it was deep, and will not fade until quite a few days. He felt a twinge of possessiveness. Of course, Ben had made the request, but he would not have complied had he not wanted to.
He bent forward, and put his hands under his arms. Bracing himself, he got back up, bringing Ben with him. He moved slowly, and held him there for a moment. Careful not to touch his back. He pressed his forehead against Ben's for an instant before kissing him. He took his time, waiting until he could feel that Ben was steady on his feet.
“Hold onto me,” Jango said, motioning Ben to put his hands on his shoulders. He sank to his knees once more, retrieved the soap with as little movements as he could, before he repeated his earlier gesture. Working up some thick lather on his hands before cleaning Ben's skin. He took the opportunity to explore a bit, massaging his way up Ben's ankles and calves, to his thighs.
He did not try to tease, no. But Ben deserved to be taken care off, he deserved to be treated gently. A time for everything, in a way. Added more soap, hands moving to Ben's cock – without any intent but that of helping him get cleaned up. He finished by lathering soap from his hips to his ass, as thoroughly as he dared without his touch being too insistent.
Once he was satisfied, he remained there for an instant – he did not exactly mind kneeling in front of that man for a bit longer. He stared back up at Ben, a small smile on his lips. Water was washing away the suds from Ben's body and he followed some of them as they slid down his chest.
Ben was looking down at him, lips curled in a bit of a smile and eyes troubled. His eyes made him look raw, knocked off balance, despite the stability of his body and the hint of amusement his little smile was made to show.
His hands were still holding on to Jango's shoulders, fingers digging into them a bit, as he looked down at Jango from his position, holding himself haphazardly together.
He looked like Jango had somehow managed to crack him open a little, get past the quips and the filthy encouragement.
Jango put his hands on Ben's hips, holding him steady as he got back up. Running his hands all over his body, in his hair, directing the water to wash down all the soap. Once he was satisfied, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, bringing Ben with him.
He located the towels easily. He put one on Ben's head, using it to towel his hair to avoid water dripping from it. He then used another to dry Ben up, without applying pressure on his back. He dried himself quickly, staying close to Ben to catch him if his legs decided to give out. They did not.
He did not ask Ben his permission - he took him in his arms, one arm behind his back, gently, and the other under his knees. He usually went for getting people on his shoulder but he did not want to inflict Ben the indignity of being carried around like a bag. If someone had told him how this evening would turn out, he would never have believed it. But there he was, and enjoying every moment of it - privately, keeping the thought close to him.
He settled Ben down on the side of the bed, removing his arm from his back as soon as he could. He pulled the sheets back. The room was still warm - at least it felt like it after months on Kamino or in space. He lied down first.
He did not speak right away, did not feel the need to, but he moved to the side- so that Ben could choose if he wanted to keep his distance or not. Jango had a hunch it would be the latter but still.
"C'mere?" He spoke softly, leaving Ben free to ignore the question. The truth was that he needed a moment to rest, and he would not mind being used as a pillow by Ben. At all. Jango remained there, on his back, and kept his body language as open as he could.
Ben hesitated, for a few long seconds, and then he curled up against Jango's side, keeping his arms to himself, barely touching him. Close enough to rest his head by Jango's bicep, not so close as to be over him or rest his head over Jango's shoulder.
He made a sound that could have been either confirmation or agreement, at his question, and, after another moment of hesitation, reached out. He looked like a man who wanted to reach out but had difficulty to make himself do it.
Once he did, however, he moved his body to be half on top of Jango's, arm loosely slung over his stomach and side, eyes closing as soon as he rested his head on Jango's skin. His breathing slowed, in as much relaxation as Ben was willing to afford himself.
Jango breathed in deeply, and smiled when Ben began to relax. He wrapped his right arm around Ben, low on his back, avoiding the mark. He felt more comfortable than he had in a long time. He felt like he was going to melt in the mattress, his body heavy.
He could feel Ben's breathing deepen on his chest. He rested his chin on his head, after laying a quick kiss on his forehead. It was something he had done countless times for Boba, when he could nit sleep and needed comfort.
He could tell that Ben was not completely relaxed in the way his shoulders were still tensed somewhat - and he could not feel his whole weight on him, which was an undeniable proof.
"Rest. There is time." You're safe. It went unsaid, but Jango thought it was important. He wanted Ben not to feel like he had to remain alert in his presence. Drowsiness crept on him, his limbs growing heavier. He breathed deeply, sinking in a pleasant doze. Arm still around Ben, his other hand now lying on Ben's arm. Holding him close.
Ben's weight slowly settled over him, growing heavier as the man relaxed, his breathing evening out in that of an asleep man as his arm curled more tightly around Jango's waist.
They remained like this for a while, Jango losing track of time until he sank into sleep.
He awoke, not knowing nor caring what time it was – much more sober, and was rather pleasantly surprised to see Ben still curled up against him. He never expected any of his one-night stand to remain. Jango himself never really lingered.
He did not move away, however.
He did not want to. Ben looked so peaceful, he refused to disturb him.
His weight on him was oddly comforting and for a moment, it felt like it could feel that void in his chest that had begun growing when he was a child. Each loss eating him away. Except now, it seemed more of an idea. He did not feel it. He sighed, softly. Content.
He gently brushed his fingers on Ben's back - the cuts were scabbing already. His mark. It hit him. He had gone too far. Sure, he had hurt people in his life. But he had not meant to cause him that much pain - and Jango knew what open wounds on your back felt. He gritted his teeth.
It was not that he regretted it. He did not. It had been wild, more so than he could remember having been out of a job or a battlefield. And Ben had gone with it. Except now Jango was not sure he would still feel that way, once the high was over.
The arm that was under Ben was numb. He moved his other hand up and down his side, the same soothing gesture he had used earlier. Except he was not sure if he did it for Ben or for himself.
"Hi." Ben's voice, heavy with sleep, greeted him. Lips pressed against Jango's shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses as Ben took his time in moving from the shoulder to Jango's neck.
"You didn't leave." The man murmured as he brushed his nose against the skin of Jango's neck.
Jango leaned into the touch, turning his head slightly to allow Ben better access. He took a moment to answer - he had so many options. But could he really say that he had not wanted to leave? He ran his hand along Ben's arm. Touching him just because he could, because he yearned for contact.
"Didn't feel like it." It was not like honesty never hurt, but lying was not his way.
He tightened the hold his arm had around Ben's back, cursing inwardly how lifeless it felt. He did not want to let go. Not so soon. He pulled Ben on top of him so that they were level with each other. He hesitated. "I can, if you want me to."
He did not want to, but he would respect that. He had the sensation that he overstepped in an outstanding way, and that he did not quite deserve kindness. His heart constricted painfully for an instant before it ended.
You hurt him.
It went back in circles. He kept to himself, not relinquishing his hold on Ben. He probably was thinking way too much. He quashed the thought. All that mattered was this moment. Not the past ones, and certainly not what might come next.
"You have expressive eyes, you know?" Ben asked, leaning to kiss him. "Stop looking that worried." He murmured on Jango's lips. "I have ways to heal myself. I will be fine."
Jango nodded, and kissed him back. He made it slow, tender, almost. Now was not the time for bites. He brought a hand to Ben's face, cupping his jaw. Ran his thumb along his cheek.
"Still. I caused you more pain than you or I expected." His other hand hovering the expanse of Ben's back, feeling his warmth.
"Ner verd..." The words flowing easily. It was true. Ben had born with that pain, held his own - without complain. For Jango, that man could be one of his own, without fail. And who cared they would go their separate ways?
He twisted to the side so that he and Ben were on their sides, facing each other. He kissed the corner of Ben's mouth, down to his jaw, the side of his throat, lips skimming over the angry bruise he had left there.
"You've never seem me fight." Ben murmured, brushing his chin over Jango's hair, his hands skimming over Jango's skin, feeling his body under his hands.
"I could be a terrible warrior, by Mandalorian standards." It sounded like a joke, light and soft, but with a wondering note to it, as if Ben had some concern about it.
"Not everyone knows what our standards are." Jango mused aloud. It was true that the old ways have been considered archaic, obsolete. So he could appreciate that someone knew of them.
"Maybe I haven't seen you fight. But you are clearly a fighter - and you are still alive. That's not too bad, is it?"
He took Ben's hand in his, running his fingertips over his palm, his fingers - calluses from handling weapons. And he was right - a swordsman. Something jarred him, though. Something about the pattern of the calluses. How even they were. He pushed the thought away.
But it kept coming back. The way he managed to keep a hold on the Force. The calluses. His body that spoke of intensive training - swordsmanship. The 'ways to heal himself'. Jango chuckled at himself. He really was getting old.
He pressed his lips to Ben's temple.
"Some bounty hunter I am, heh? Can't even recognize a Jetii without the garb..."
In retrospect, he could not even say he was that surprised. On Coruscant, of all places, and he practically needed a sign.
Jango thought back to what Ben had said. Not a warrior by Mandalorian standard... Well, now, he had to ask.
"Is that why you said you could be a terrible warrior by Mando'a standards, ner verd?"
"Ah." Ben murmured. "I did just say that, yes." He agrees, moving his head to look down at Jango's hand and how it was holding his own.
"I am not a peacekeeper Jedi, what you could consider our warriors. I am a diplomat." He pointed out. "I do sometimes drive some rather ... aggressive negotiations, but my focus is on avoiding battle before it can happen. War is the Mandalorian way of life. I do not care to wade into war, -" There was a pause, almost too fast for Jango to notice but not enough to escape his attention. "- if it can be avoided."
Jango sighed. "I can't fault you for that, can I? If anything, diplomacy is what peacekeeping should be. Not another name for war." He groaned. And there he went. Though the expression had always irked him. Peacekeeping, his foot. He drew Ben closer, mindful of his back, holding him with both arms.
"Just because war is our ways - the Mandalorian way, does not mean you have to live like us to be worthy of respect."
He went on, more to himself, because he did not want to assume things. Even if he was almost sure of it. Only those who faced a conflict, a war, and who suffered from it, would say something about going to war only if it can't be avoided. At least, people who were not him and a handful.
"War leaves traces on you - body and mind. These marks never really go away."
He kissed Ben, a bit more roughly than he intended at first. War could very well stick it and stay out of this room, if he had a say.
"Didn't mean to... Ah, to ruin the mood. Apologies."
Ben chuckled and kissed him.
"You didn't." He countered. "If anything you eased things some, now that I don't have to worry about you taking offense at the presence of a Jetii."
He smoothed a hand over Jango's back, feeling the muscles there, fingers skimming over the lines of it. "Even one that let himself be marked with your people's symbol." He murmured, on Jango's lips. "I can have it removed, if you regret it."
"I don't," said Jango before giving Ben a quick kiss. "Do you? I admit it's probably too much." He let his fingers brush along the cuts. "No one but me uses it. Besides, I may have taken your wish to be claimed," he let the word roll on his tongue, teasingly, "too literally. But I stand by it."
He caught himself - just in time to add that he meant it as 'one of his own'. After all, everyone in the galaxy that paid attention knew that Jedi had attachment issues, so he better tread carefully.
He was surprised he got this far along in reasoning because Ben's touch was getting rather distracting.
"I won't refuse it." The red-head replied, ducking his head to brush kisses over Jango's throat, as his hand explored Jango's back, searching out the spots that made the older man shiver and his breathing come shorter. "Though I am and will still remain a Jetii, I will keep a frequency open for you, should you need to call."
"Sounds fair." Jango rolled onto his back - to be more comfortable, mostly. He arched under Ben's touch, a small shiver catching him unaware when his fingers ran along an old scar - one that ran across his ribs. He craned his head back, baring his neck to Ben. It was not something he normally does - trust no one. But he wanted to.
He laid a hand on Ben's hip, his grip tightening whenever Ben found a scar - the deepest ones almost crackling under his fingertips. He had forgotten how it was - just to have someone touching him, just because he wanted to. Forgotten how good it felt just to enjoy the attention.
Ben kept kissing his throat and neck, soft presses of his lips as he learned Jango through his body, fingers lingering over the more sensitive scars. Skimming over the surface of them, nipping delicately at his collarbones as he teased them.
His hands stroked on free patches of Jango's skin whenever it got to be too much, his touch reassuring and strong without being unnecessarily heavy.
Jango relished it, the last remnants of sleep falling from his body. His scars tingling ever after Ben's hands were gone. He sighed, the sound almost like a purr.
He looked at Ben through half-lidded eyes. He wanted - needed - more. More of his touch.
Electricity coursed his nerves, concentrating in his spine. Ben's hands mapping a current on his skin, his lips derailing Jango's focus, grounding him.
"Do what you want to me. Anything." A surrender he never offered as a bounty hunter, as Mand'alor, but that he could give now, removed from his titles and obligations.
"And what if I want to keep touching you?" Ben asked, voice a low whisper as he brushed his patchy heard over Jango's neck, covering most of Jango's body with his own as he kept mapping the man out.
"What if I want to touch you more?" Ben teased, pressure like would have come from his hands running down Jango's legs and then slowly back up, invisible fingers pressing down against Jango's muscles, massaging them as Ben's warm hands slid under his back, to go back to his back and renew the attention and touch to the scars Jango had there.
"Are you going to let me do this and wait until I feel ready to take your cock again?" The man murmured, nipping at the skin of Jango's neck, licking and sucking the same spot just moments after.
Jango breathed in sharply, biting his tongue to remain silent. He was reeling - now that he could process just how it felt - that overwhelming sensation that Ben's hands were all over his body at once.
He bent his knees to give himself more leverage, arching further from the bed to press his body against Ben's. He was growing harder by the instant. He put both his hands on Ben's hips, bringing him down, and rolled his hips.
"I can't wait." Except he will wait, no matter how long. "I can't wait for you to ride me, to fuck yourself on my cock." Just to think about it. His hips twitched under Ben's, his cock hard, precome soothing the friction. Not enough.
Ben moved with him, only the slight tightness at the corners of his eyes giving away that the movement wasn't fully painless. He nipped at Jango's throat and wrapped his hands on Jango's shoulders, holding on tightly to him.
"And do you want me to be giving you my back again?" He asked, rubbing back against him, fingers lingering over a particularly wicked scar, tracing it up and down. "Or do you want me to face you, so you can watch how I look while I ride you hard?"
Jango's breath caught in his throat, chest heaving. Not sure if it was his words, his voice, or the hand setting his skin on fire. Or all this at once.
He gathered himself, smirking, and brought a hand to Ben's throat, pressing on the bruise there, before trailing down his chest.
"I want to see your face - when you ride me, and when you come. I want to see you whole, from your throat to your glorious cock. See you breathless, unable to hide." And as he spoke the hunger was back, a low growl at the back of his throat.
His control was slipping. If he allowed to go too far, he knew he would try to take over. But right now, he wanted Ben to lead - he wanted to be used by him, for his pleasure first and foremost.
He needed something to hold on to. And so, he asked what he did not think he would ask anyone: "Tie my hands?" Part of him reared at this - memories trying derail him but he would not let them. Not now.
Ben's hands, his actual hands, slid up Jango's back and then out from under it, wrapping around his arms and trailing down them. The red-head wrapped his fingers around Jango's wrists and then brought them up in a slow, deliberate movement, leaving Jango time to realize what he was doing and sink into it.
"I'll hold you down, but I won't tie you up." He disagreed, stretching his body out and lowering his head to kiss Jango's mouth, nip at his lips to make him open it and then kissing him, a deep and thorough kiss. "You'll just have to cooperate with me."
The latter was just a murmur on Jango's mouth as Ben rolled his hips, pressing his cock against Jango's and then dragging it up to press against the skin of Jango's belly, as the invisible hands held him and stroked his skin, over his scars.
"This is going to be long and slow and by the end of it you will have forgotten about anything that is not what we're doing here." Ben promised, voice hoarse, and then kissed him again.
When they broke apart, Jango offered him a nod, and a smile. At the same time, he twisted at times under Ben's 'hands', seeking contact. He tensed, muscles contracting then relaxing when Ben reached a particular scar - well, two. One that cut through his right collarbone - stab wound. And the other one on his right thigh - a long blaster burn. He almost failed to avoid this one.
He moved against Ben, trapping his cock between them, the pressure bordering on pain. His breathing ragged, their position a simulacra of what would come next. The thought alone ripped a moan from his chest.
Ben rubbed against him, pressing down against him as he bit kisses over Jango's chest.
One of his hand slid down, between them, to wrap around Jango's cock, maneuvering both of them until he stood perfectly poised to take it, using his hold on it to angle it just right, so that it rested between his cheeks, allowing Ben to rub himself against it, making Jango feel it all.
"Deep breaths." Ben ordered. "You're not going to come until I tell you."
It was not an order but neither a request. The way Ben said it, it was a fact, simple as that and as unshakable ad a planet's gravity.
Jango nodded in acknowledgement, his entire body taut in expectation. He breathed in deeply, trying to keep his attention on anything that was not Ben moving against his cock. His hips jerked upward, the sharp motion cutting his breath short before he forced himself to sink back on the bed.
"What happens if I do, though?" He did not intend to, but he was curious. Did Ben plan something? But Jango's mind was screaming already that whatever retribution coukd be, he would not chance it.
He tugged at his restraints, and immediately, the ghost-like hands tightened on his wrists. He concentrated on this - the pressure, the warmth - not unlike actual hands but entirely unyielding. He did not try to move away.
He looked up at Ben, hungry. Starving. The monster was back, threatening to engulf him, a pit in his belly, reaching out through his nerves, his veins. It translated in an ache through his body, the craving to bite into him, to devour. Mind reeling. He needed Ben, badly. To sink into him, to be used by him, whatever the cost.
"You won't." Ben replied, sure, and there was weight brought to bear on Jango's body, pinning him down, tightening around the base of his cock, just enough to keep Jango from being able to come.
And then Ben was sinking down, sliding his hands down Jango's arms and all the way to his shoulders as he worked himself down, his body hot and tight around Jango's cock.
Jango bit his lips, holding his breath to force himself to remain as still as possible. It was not long before his lungs were burning and he let out a low sigh. Relief washed over him that he could not move, and instead had to rely on Ben completely. His self-control had been torn to shreds. The hunger clawing at him latched onto the feeling of Ben around him, on top of him - feeding on the near-pain, the way he felt like burning.
It did not matter that he had fucked Ben twice already, this was different. And Jango just barely prevented himself for telling him again just how perfect he felt. His breathing slightly ragged as he took in the sight of Ben - on top of him, his body cut by the blinds' shadows against the lights from outside. All angles and the darkened bruises faded somewhat. How his throat worked when he swallowed, chest rising and falling and remaining absolutely still to the point that Jango wanted to scream.
Need, digging into his spine, tearing him apart. Knowledge that Ben was the one holding him down, was in charge of it. He welcomed it - he was just a man, letting another man take what he wanted from him. And he had made the offer gladly. For now, however, he only had one request - that Ben finally moved because he was going completely mad.
"Whenever you are ready." Use me, do what you want - just keep touching me, don't stop that, don't let me up, not yet. He could not find his voice, instead resorting to projecting his thoughts loud and clear. And maybe he was pleading a little, but he couldn't care less.
I won't. Ben's voice promised, purring as it wrapped around Jango's mind.
The bindings that were holding Jango's down tightened as the man started to move, slow and sinuous like a predator. Taking his time with each rolling movement of his hips, making sure to make Jango's cock slip out of him until only the head was still inside and then sliding back down, taking him balls deep inside.
You taste spicy and like you could just tear me apart if I let you go. The voice purred. I will render you mindless, until you are ravenous and ready to rip into me with your teeth, to grab onto me hard enough to leave bruises that will last for days.
Jango strained against his bonds, Ben's words sinking deep into him, curling around his mind. They echoed bringing images forward. His breathing grew erratic. He could see this happening, he could almost feel it. Ben's skin under his hands, hard muscles yielding under his grip. How good it would feel to his skin give way when he would bite into him - hard enough to cause pain and draw blood. How he would taste.
He could not take it, not when Ben's moves were so slow, so deliberate that it brought him such pleasure that felt more like agony. His breath caught in his chest. His orgasm tore through him, but the pressure at the base of his cock was too strong. His muscles tensed, his whole body struggling to arch, ecstasy washing over him - and pain, delicious, terrible pain as release was denied him. He let out a loud cry of Ben's name, nails digging into his palms. Too strung up to know if he was on a high or too far gone to think.
Ben's movement didn't speed up, the pressure on Jango steady, keeping him where he was as the pleasure tore through him, leaving him aching and needing. Unfulfilled.
I told you. Ben's voice sounded smug, as he kept riding Jango oh so slowly, muscles going tight around his cock in a way that made Jango's eyes cross as the red head raked his fingers down Jango's front, digging red lines in Jango's skin with his nails. You won't come until I tell you to.
My Jango. The voice purred, Ben eyes taking in all of Jango.
The man's hands slid back up Jango's chest as Ben put himself on display, his movements calculated to show off his still mostly-unmarked front, his head tilting slightly back to offer the sight of his purpling throat, Jango's mark standing out like an animal claim of possession.
Jango bared his teeth, the pain and pleasure mingling together in a burning sensation that ate at him and left him breathless. He was shaking under the strain, trying to hard to move while being held in place.
His eyes raking over Ben's skin, taking in the sight of him. His - the word bouncing off his mind, not even sure if he meant Ben or himself by this. He wanted to touch him so badly, could not stand the restraints anymore – yet he would never ask to be released. And always, Ben's words swirling in his conscious mind. The gouges on his chest burned, sweat making it even worse, and he wanted more of that pain.
Brought back again, never down from a high he could not reach. Need swelled again, burning and hurting from the slow pace Ben inflicted on him. So close, so damn close, and he could not come, and it was driving him mad. The pressure on him shifting, water on his skin, a near caress that intensified with each minute movement he made.
He came - or it felt like it, a hacked cry wrung from his chest as once more, he was left hard. Starving for a release he is still denied, the feeling of Ben's tight body too much for his too-sensitive cock. It was pain - bright and still delicious. Pain that had him trembling, his entire body taut - feeling like his bones would shatter. He could not breathe - he tried to move against his bonds, to scream, to rail - driven out of his mind.
And never pleading.
Perfect The voice in his mind crooned.
The restraints disappeared in thin air as Ben raised his arms, curling them up and behind his head. They framed it as he wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck.
The pressure remained, wrapped around him, touching all over as phantom fingers played with his scars, scratching them, but he was now allowed to move.
Now take your due and fill me up. He goaded, teal eyes holding Jango's dark own.
Jango brought his arms back down, slowly, giving himself some time to find his strength back after lying in the same position for a good while. As soon as he felt that he would not topple over Ben, he sat up, relying only on his upper body muscles to do so, and caught Ben in his arms. He kissed him, rough, hungry, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. Lick the blood away. He deepened the kiss as he held Ben to him, sucking on his tongue briefly, with a hint of teeth.
Without warning, he broke the kiss and swiftly got his legs under him, and pounced on Ben, forcing him back on the bed seamlessly. He held onto Ben's back, as Ben's upper body was on the bed, his lower back supported by Jango's lap. He grinned, baring his teeth - hands moving from Ben's back to his chest, raking his nails across his belly as he leaned backward - almost pulling out completely. The pressure at the base of his cock was still there, pain fading slightly now that he could move again.
He waited. His left arm wounding under Ben's knee, and then he fell on him - caught his fall with his right hand on the bed, kissing Ben as he thrust into him. He set a punishing pace, fucking him hard and deep. He kept Ben's right leg bent upward, out of his way. Bowed his head to leave kisses down his throat, his chest - biting hard onto his collarbone, sure to leave a deep mark. His teeth left their imprint, blood beading. He licked and kissed the wound, before he bit again.
Ben choked on Jango's name, still holding on to his own neck, keeping his arms out of the way as he arched in Jango's hold, wrapping his left leg, the free one, around Jango's back.
He keened Jango's name, taking the brutal fucking that Jango was giving him and relishing in it, head dropping back and exposing his throat as he dug furrows into his own neck, at the sides of the bite Jango had left on his throat.
More. He demanded and the image flashed in Jango's mind of more bites, deeper bites a sign not so much of belonging as of having been wanted and craved and chosen, a perpetual reminder of this night with Jango that no healer was going to be able to fully heal away, like the mark on his back. His blood on Jango's teeth as the man took Ben over, as impossible to stop as a rising tide. More, Jango.
He kept attacking that spot on Ben's collarbone, rolling his skin between his bone and his own teeth. Only when he was satisfied did he let go, and moved to the gouges Ben had been carving in his own neck, teeth scraping against them, deepening them. He bit him, a mirror of the bruise he had already carved into him. Nuzzling at his jaw, licking the blood now mixing with sweat, relishing the small spasms he drew from Ben when he bit - softer - on his windpipe.
He could see in his mind - mapping the patterns of bruises and bites on Ben's body - his chest, his abdomen, his hips - his thighs. I want you to still feel me in days. Each move you make reminding you. He rolled his hips, angling himself so that his cock would press harder on Ben's prostate, paying attention to the smallest changes to adjust his position. He was so painfully tight around him, and the pressure was still there, holding him back, now feeling like a vice.
I won't touch your cock, ner verd. Not that I don't want to. But I would much rather use my mouth on you - suck you dry until pleasure turns into pain. The thoughts accompanied with flashes of that moment when he was doing exactly that - sensations flooding through him at the same time. He bent forward, kissing and biting hard Ben's pectoral - he could almost feel the pain, how Ben's muscles tenses under his lips. Drawing blood once more - laying his claim for the world to know.
Ben shouted, body wriggling in Jango's hold as he held onto his own orgasm by the skin of his teeth, avoiding coming but only barely, muscles going tight as he shout tapered off in a string of unintelligible sounds.
I won't last long enough for you to do that, if you keep this up. Even his mental voice sounded ragged and the pressure on Jango's body increased with each syllable, until there were hands scratching at Jango's scars, mouths working at them, teeth following the lines on Jango's skin.
For a moment, his mind was filled with a flash of image. Ben, standing in the Jetii Temple, clad in Jetii robes and feeling Jango's touch on him in every movement he made, body remembering the pleasure-pain, making it hard for him to concentrate. Then it disappeared, as if it had never been there.
It was more than enough, and Jango came with a ragged shout of Ben's name.
His entire body tensed under the force of his orgasm as it slammed into him harder than he expected. He almost lost his balance, his forehead resting on Ben's chest as he just tried to force air into his lungs, his bones feeling disjointed. The pressure on him did not stop right away, dragging his high on, until he managed to get a hold on himself.
In his frenzy, he had not realized that he had wrapped his hand around the base of Ben's cock to prevent him from coming yet. He hadn't even thought about it, he had just done it.
He kissed him, slow, deep, taking his time. With a last nip at Ben's lips, he slid down his body, pulling out ever so slowly, relishing the pain caused by the overload of sensation. He kept his hand on Ben the whole time, making sure he would not come until he was done. He kissed his abdomen, left of Ben's navel, slightly higher - and bit into him, sucking and licking at the spot, and bit him again. Forcing a dark bruise on his skin. It would never scar like the one on his collarbone would but it did not matter. He repeated his ministrations a few times, making sure the bruise will stay there for a time.
He moved on to Ben's hip, not bothering to be gentle, biting so hard the skin broke under the onslaught. He kept at it, cleaning the blood that ran with long licks. At last, he was satisfied - this one was definitely going to scar, he was sure of it.
He looked up at Ben, a feral grin on his face - and he was almost certain he had blood on his lips. - and Ben grinned back at him, looking breathless and desperate. He never turned down his gaze as he mouthed Ben's cock, not touching him yet, just breathing.
Just for an instant.
Then he dipped his head, fingers barely releasing their hold in time for Jango lick his cock all the way up - wrap his lips around the head, tongue teasing him. He laid both his hands on Ben's hips - touching but not holding him back.
He sucked, briefly, before withdrawing to lick him once more, teasing him for good measure. His thumb pressed on the bloody bite on his hip. He took him in his mouth again, doing his best to keep his teeth out of the way. Relishing the weight of his cock on his tongue, the near-pain in his jaw. Come for me, Ben.
Ben's eyelids lowered, breaking eye contact between him and Jango as the man's head fell back, Jango's name spilling out of his lips like a lapse in control.
The pressure came back with a vengeance, pressing down on Jango and keeping him where he was as Ben came into his mouth.
Electronic pieces shorted out all over the room, the lights and the mechanisms set in the walls to animate them as needed by the renters all dying as Ben came apart and the air around Jango turned sticky-summer-warm and almost hazy.
Jango let out a pleased hum, and swallowed around Ben's cock. He withdrew, slowly, teasing him. Licked him clean at his leisure, making the best of it. He dipped his head to Ben's inner thigh, kissing, sucking on his skin. He did not bite him, but made sure to leave a trace. Ben would be able to feel it when he walked, or sat. He gave the same treatment to his other leg, as his hands caressed his skin, soothing.
Once he was satisfied, he crawled back up to lie on his side, pressed against Ben. He kissed him, taking his time, carding a hand in his hair, brushing it away from his face. The air was still thick, weighing down on him - felt like moving through water. Fingers tracing the angry bruises he left on him. He pressed more kisses to his lips, his jaw, his neck. Ner verd. And in those words he tried to convey his gratitude, his pride.
Content to just be a simple man for a time.
Jango. Ben's voice whispered quietly into his mind, as Ben wrapped his body around Jango's, arms coming out from under his head to curl around Jango's back, holding him loosely as he kisses him back, wherever he could reach. He sounded wrecked and burst open, vulnerable in this moment with him and willing to trust Jango with that vulnerability, with not being hurt for it.
He held Ben there, and shifted to press their foreheads together, noses brushing. He smile at him, a sense of peace, of calm, pervading the whole room. That Ben trusted him was so important to Jango. In spite of who they were in the world, or perhaps because of it. He would not betray that trust.
His fingers brushed the cuts on his back - some had reopened, fresh blood a crust around them. These would need be tended to but he could not bring himself to move. He was bereft of strength at this point. And he did not want to disturb Ben. He needed - he deserved - to rest a while.
Basking in the moment itself.
Ben curled one of his hands around the back of Jango's neck, anchoring himself as his breathing slowed, his body slowly going limp.
I'll heal. He promised, sounding distracted and exhausted but also pleased and happy. There was a faint smile on his face, that reached all the way to his eyes, making them crinkle. It made him look younger than he had in the cantina or on the way over. At least, younger than thirty.
Jango could not help smiling back, even as his body was shutting down. Apparently he was tired, after all. He felt heavy, sleep coming with a form of welcome paralysis. He pushed any questions about Ben's age out of his mind - tried not to think about his own. It did not matter, not really. What mattered was the man he was sharing the bed with, his Ben, his verd.
He fell asleep, without noticing the shifts, still holding Ben in his arms - trust, contentment, all curling around him. Feeling better than he had in a while.
He woke up laying on his back, Ben's body still wrapped around his, head resting on Jango's shoulder, one leg between Jango own.
Jango's body was making itself be heard, and it was obviously quite mad at him.
He tried to move his head, and did not go far before his spine stopped cooperating. He was not going to move to check if it was just his neck or his whole back. His muscles protested for each minute movement he made - stiff, sore enough to cause pain. He took a deep breath only to stop right away - he felt like his muscles would tear from the extra stretch.
Maybe he was getting older. He shifted still, trying to get the numbness out of his limbs - and clenched his teeth when his back and legs moved against the linen. The scratches Ben had gotten on him in the shower felt like gouges, deep and burning. He stopped moving altogether, not to disturb Ben. He caressed his hair gently, not to wake him up, noticing the different shades of red in it brought forth by daylight.
He did not want to go away now - even if it might be the smart thing to do. Not that he could move, anyway.
Ben made a quiet noise and then turned his head, running a hand down Jango's chest.
"'m not good at healing, but let me try." He murmured, pressing a kiss to Jango's shoulder, as warmth sunk into his body. It did little for the scratches or for his spine, but the ache in his muscles lessened to manageable levels and the stiffness eased enough that he would be able to at least push himself up, if with some difficulty.
"Thank you." He kissed Ben's hair, the movement not quite as painful as it could have been now that his muscles were cooperating.
"Should keep this for yourself, though." He was grateful, he really was. But he was certain that Ben must be dealing with quite a lot of pain already - from his back of course, but not just. After all, Jango had not been gentle with him, by far. Again, he did not regret it. But he would rather Ben not to have to deal with the pain.
"I'll go to one of the lower levels Jedi District Shelters and get myself healed there." Ben murmured, kissing Jango's shoulders again. "Until then, I can block most of the pain."
Jango nodded. He could almost hear his own body shout that this would actually be a karking good idea.
"I'll go too." He paused, thinking of a way he could phrase it so that it did not sound too bad. "Better make sure I don't stay stuck in my ship because my back decided to quit, I guess."
And yes, he was stalling, but he was not keen on getting his butt back to Kamino. Especially not if once there he has to ask for help getting out of his blasted ship. Not happening.
Ben smiled against his skin and kissed his shoulder again.
"Then we can go together." He said, simply, running his hands down, along Jango's thigh, more warmth spreading and taking away enough of the ache to allow him to walk without a limp, hopefully.
"Gladly." He rolled to his side, carefully, so that he could kiss Ben. He ran his hand down his arm, his side. He could not stop himself from reaching out, from touching him. Even if he hoped that it was alright for him to do so - wanting the contact but fearing to crowd Ben.
He sat up, and looked at Ben. The bruises were painfully dark in the daylight - he knew he had been rough, but now they stood in sharp contrast with his pale skin. And yet, this was nothing compared to the mark on his back. He could see just part of a tusk, from where he was, but it was dark with dried blood, the edges raw - he touched the area reverently. And to think Ben had not made a single sound then...
He truly was one of a kind - and worthy of bearing that symbol by virtue of having withstood the process. A warrior, no matter what he said.
Ben didn't make a sound now either, letting him, sprawling down on the bed and tugging away the sheet, to reveal the marking in it's encrusted glory. The symbol of Jango's people, of the True Mandalorians, bloody and alive with each breath Ben took.
"No regrets yet?" Ben asked, quietly, looking up at him, resting a cheek on the pillow Jango had previously occupied.
"No. Not last time you asked, not now." Tracing the outer edge with his knuckles, slowly. He still felt that possessiveness, what prompted him in carving this particular symbol on Ben's skin. It was not as violent as it was - like the tide ebbing away.
"Is there anything that you regret?" And gods, he looked young - and maybe it was a trick of the light, but Jango remembered seeing Jetii padawans in fights. Growing up fast, much like Mandalorian children did.
Yes, Ben looked younger than he had last night, when he had first seen him, working steadily on his inebriation. But his eyes, his body told another tale. One that was not for Jango to unravel. One that made him older than his probable years.
He shook himself. "How about we get you checked up, ner verd?" Or maybe grab something to eat first - he was starving.
He realized then that Ben's body had tensed under his hold, at the question, but if there had been any other signs of a reaction, they had disappeared by the time Jango had collected himself enough to notice the tension and check for other tells.
"I regret plenty." Ben replied, simply, his voice lacking any particular inflection. "And I like that idea." He added, before Jango could ask more or answer, face creasing into a smile as he drew himself up, with a carefulness that spoke to the pain he had to be managing. "Maybe get some food too? The shelters off a free meal to anyone who comes in."
Jango let it go, but made a mental note to ask again before leaving. It wouldn't do, to let that kind of thing lie unaddressed. For Ben's sake, at the very least. He got up, and offered his hand to help him up.
"Food sounds good, yes." He leaned in to kiss Ben, before he started digging for his clothes. Well, his pants, because his shirt was a lost cause.
"Also, not to be a pain or anything but if you got a spare shirt somewhere, that'd be great." He showcased the shreds of his shirt for good measure, smiling.
"Not sure anything I have here will fit you, but I'll check." Ben agreed, sounding amused as he slowly, gingerly stood, his grin widening as he caught sight of Jango's shirt. "I think my own clothes are a similar loss to your shirt."
Jango did his best at looking sheepish, though he had a feeling he hadn't managed it well. Sheepish just wasn't him. And he would do it again, given the opportunity. In fact he would do it again and again, as many times as needed. Every time he met Ben again, in fact.
He pulled on his pants, and added: "I could go about like this, but I'm not sure the city is ready for that." He grinned.
He went in search for his boots - and was reminded that putting on your shoes, or reaching down to grab them, when your back acted up was definitely not a good idea. He slowly sat up, keep his back as straight as he could - and felt rather silly for doing so.
Ben, thankfully, didn't seem to notice.
He had opened a compartment in the wall, despite the fried electronics, while Jango was busy and was now drawing out of it two shirts in different sizes and another pair of corellian military pants, identical to the ones he'd been wearing the previous night.
"I think one of my friend's shirts would fit you better." He admitted, his smile a touch sheepish. "We share ownership of this apartment, to break down the fees into something manageable."
"Thanks. Hoping your friend won't start looking for it." He briefly wondered how they needed to split the cost for that room - but again, it was Coruscant. Rents were sky-high, so to speak, and were probably also very high even in this neighborhood.
Jango was used to practically live on his ship, when he wasn't being hosted by the Kaminoans as part of his contract, so rent was not something he ever really needed to pay attention to.
"If he does, he'll probably think he lost it somewhere." Ben replied, amused in a way that made his face lit up and his eyes crinkles at the corners. It was more attractive on him than on anyone else Jango could ever remember meeting. It made strange things to him, things he decided not to worry about or consider for too long.
Instead, he put on the shirt - and it did fit, which was a bonus. He went back to Ben, pressing a kiss to his lips and taking his time to make it a short but meaningful one. Ben welcomed it, pressing one of his own to Jango's lips, only to draw back before it could become more.
He had somehow finished dressing on his own, despite the fact that most movement had to have pulled at his back and made it scream with pain. There was no sign of blood on the back of the shirt, however, when he stepped away and he didn't put his boots on as much as slipped his feet inside and the boots adjusted itself on him, so he had probably cheated by using the Force.
"I'll let you lead the way. Been a long time since I last hung around here." Jango informed him. He also usually dealt with his wounds on his own. Mostly.
"The district is somewhat far. Do you have enough money for a cab? All I had got spent on shots yesterday." He admitted, a bit sheepishly, as he stepped out of the room, waiting for Jango to follow him. "The district will pay for the fare, if we just show up in need of their help, but I'd rather not draw anymore attention than necessary."
Jango followed Ben outside. "I do - good thing about my line of work is that money is rarely a problem." Okay, maybe not for everyone else but he did not get his reputation by twiddling his thumbs.
When they got out, Jango was once more surprised at how different it looked in the relative sunlight. He was not certain it was an improvement - it did not exactly reach here. Thankfully, they did not have to walk very far to get a cab - his back was threatening to give up on him with every step, and he had to be careful, even if he did his best to look casual.
Ben waited until they were sitting into the taxi and then reached out, his fingers slipping between Jango's back and the back of the seat, resting lightly against his back and spreading more warmth through it, making the pain and feel of imminent collapse ease, though not disappear.
Jango relaxed, almost slumping on the seat. He leaned against Ben's shoulder, and put his arm between his back and the seat - so that he would not rest completely against it, without having to stay upright the whole time.
It was not much, but short of getting Ben on his lap, which didn't seem like an option, there was not much he could do. He was at a loss - and relieved when they arrived and they got out. He paid the cabbie, and offered Ben a hand to haul him to the platform.
The man accepted, letting Jango draw him out of the cab and in front of the entrance of the shelter, taking a moment before settling in a more composed stance.
"Once inside it's all the way to the end of the hallway and then to the reception station in the waiting area of the med center." He explained, as he smiled at Jango and squeezed his hand, only letting go of it to lead the way inside, in an atmosphere so free of Coruscant smell and smog that it was almost heady.
The shelter was neither impressive nor gaudily advertised. Just a set of clear double doors, with the number of their level preceding the word SHELTER in aurebesh above them, that allowed an easy view of the plant-filled interior.
Jango followed Ben, marveling that this place felt so much cleaner than the rest of the place it was in. Probably the plants doing most of the work. The design was impressive nonetheless, and unlike other facilities of its kind - he had seen some in other systems - this place felt more like a garden than a medical centre.
He was still apprehensive when they got to the reception - not that he would admit it out loud, mostly because he was not used to other people checking on him. Aside from the Kaminoans, and he hated every second of it.
Luckily, he was not given the time to reconsider, as a medic immediately ushered them to a lift - to the second level. There, the wide corridor also had plants - on the walls. Another medic came to them and took Ben farther down the corridor, while Jango was led to a room to his right.
The only good thing about being constantly monitored in Tipoca was that he knew exactly what was expected of him. He answered all questions asked as truthfully as he could - and was grateful that the medic did not pry.
The healing itself felt rather similar to what Ben already showed him. He almost felt like dozing off, wrapped as he was in warmth, his muscles and tendons relaxing.
He felt a tingling where Ben scratched him, like accelerated scarring - which was probably the case. Bacta patches were applied to a few - these really stung. Too bad he did not manage to have a look at them, because they felt deep. Although that was nothing to what he had - literally - carved into Ben's back. So stings... yeah, nothing to write home about.
The medic that was seeing him, dressed not as a Jedi but in a blue sort of uniform that the other medics he'd seen in the shelter had shared, gave him a bottle of 'natural painkillers' with a recommendation not to take more than one every two hours and to ensure he wouldn't have to get in a driving seat until the effect was fully worn off.
Then he was allowed to put his shirt back on, ushered out of the room and given a little printed map of the facility, with indications on where to find the mess hall, the wardrobe section and, in case he needed them, the lodgings facilities. All free of charge, compliments of the Jedi Order.
Jango thanked him and made his way to the mess hall. He had no idea if Ben was already out or not, and they did speak about getting food. And really, Ben was a Jedi - he would probably be able to find him either way. He found the mess quite easily - and like the rest of the place, it was more a garden than anything else.
Except the mess was rather big compared to the rest, light flooding the room - the plants a brilliant green splashed with colors. The fact that the amount of tiles was limited also ensured the noise was kept at a manageable level, even if there were many people already in there. It furthered the sense of remoteness from the city outside by being so calm. Or maybe he was still a bit high on the healing, who knew?
He went to the serving area, quite dumbfounded by the sheer amount of food available. His stomach growled. He took a tray and helped himself. He took some more. And bread. Bread was something he got every time he could - as well as fruits. They were rare on Kamino, and though he was better off than the clones, it was still a luxury. He took two apples as well.
He found himself a relatively empty table - these were very long, reinforcing the community feeling of the place - and sat, eyes scanning the area for Ben.
It took a few minutes for the man to arrive, looking much better off than he had coming in and wearing a new shirt, with a high collar that covered his neck, keeping the bite mark there from being visible to everybody.
He moved much more smoothly, his steps sure as he took a tray and lined up, selecting protein rich foods and accompanying them with fruits and vegetables, and then easily sliding through the people moving around to join Jango at his table, hair wet and a bit limp, redder than they were blonde.
He smiled at Jango, settling down in front of him and putting his tray down on the table. "They had to call in a second medic to give an opinion on the back."
Jango stopped mid-bite. And quickly swallowed it so he could ask: "What did they say?"
Concern welled up - it must have been worse than he had thought, if a second medic was needed. He caught himself before reaching out for Ben - not sure if it was acceptable for him to do so.
"It needed bacta and I've been encouraged to do a follow up later in the week." Ben explained.
"How is it?" Hoping it was not that bad - he was not sure he would be able to stand it if it were and he shook himself to keep from yelling mentally. Or rather, projecting more than he seemed to be doing lately.
Ben gave a tiny shrug of his shoulders, accompanied by a reassuring smile. "They informed me it was going to scar quite clearly and that there were procedures, which I denied by they felt I should still be informed about, to remove the scarring once it had set in."
Jango nodded. "I honestly did not think about just how incapacitating it would turn out to be. Sorry." Not sorry about marking him, no. But he would not have gone that far, or done anything that big, if he had thought about the consequences.
He took a sip from his water - it almost tasted different. Nothing like what it normally did in big cities. It was very odd, but pleasant.
"I have been told that whoever did it had a remarkably steady hand and was able to cut deep enough to scar without actually hurting me in any permanent way, actually." Ben smiled, cutting into the steak he had in the center of his plate.
Jango smirked at this. "Reputation is saved, then." But he was glad to hear that. "Just hoping the damages won't be long-term ones. I would hate to be responsible for any difficulties with negotiations."
He bit into his apple - and it was everything he remembered it to be like. Not too sweet. Refreshing. He hummed in contentment, not really caring if it was noticed.
Ben laughed, a quiet and chuckling sound. "That won't be a problem." He replied, amusement lighting his eyes up. "I will still be perfectly capable of performing my duties."
Jango smiled, and nodded. "That's relief." A companionable silence settled while Ben was finishing his meal. They got their trays back, and made their way outside. Although Jango walked slowly - partly because he was still feeling slightly woozy, and partly because he wanted to breathe that air for a while longer.
And true, as soon as they got to the door, the polluted, burning air if the city caught him by the throat. He swore he could feel how tainted the air was. He hailed a taxi, and turned to Ben.
"Do I get you back to your place, or somewhere else? I got time before I'll be able to leave Coruscant." He did not want to go anyway. And questions have been plaguing him, though he had done a fairly good job of ignoring them.
"I have some more time before I have to head back in and I should head back there, at least to clean." Ben nodded, with a hint of a rueful smile as he probably thought of the mess they'd left. "I'd appreciate the passage."
Jango nodded, and gave the directions to the cabbie. On the backseat, he was sitting closer to Ben than what was strictly necessary - read: any closer and he might be crushing him. Ben did not seem to mind - Jango was positive that if he did, he would have let him know.
He was so used to seeing Coruscant at night - or just hanging around where the sun never reached - that seeing like this was faintly disorienting. Or he had gotten used to live in a damn waterworld.
He accompanied Ben up to the flat itself. "Need a hand or...?" He trailed off. He would like to linger - a lot. But he did not want to trespass. Or act like he was entitled to anything, because he was not.
He could just hear Vau 'At your age... you sure you didn't turn back into a teen?'
He shook himself. The fact still stood - he would like to stay for a bit. And there was no way he would leave Ben to deal with the mess on his own, especially since he was also on a hefty dose of painkillers.
"I definitely can use it." Ben agreed, entering the room and carefully flicking the switch, sighing when the lights didn't come up. "Definitely not getting our deposit back."
He didn't seem to mind, as he stepped to the side to let Jango in and took advantage of the moment to kiss him, as soon as Jango came close enough.
Jango deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm loosely around Ben's back.
"Go get cleaned up, and let me take care of the rest? Which probably be 'pile everything in a pyre', but I'm not sure any of it is salvageable."
Even without the lights, he could still see rather well. The sheets were ruined. It was a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere on the floor as well. He was sure the towels got their share too. A complete mess.
"None of it is and the whole room will have to go." Ben replied, with a sigh. "One of my friends has psychometry."
His smile had a wry amusement to it as he headed for the bathroom. "I don't think there will be anywhere safe for him to touch in here anytime soon. Force-enhanced sex leaves lingering, very clear traces."
Jango swallowed at this. "That's... rather problematic." And he guessed that his friend, being a Jedi, had turned the skill up to eleven.
"Do we burn the building. Just so you have a perfectly good excuse for not getting the deposit back and for all evidence to be destroyed?" He half-joked when saying this. Although other people lived there so it would not do to burn their places down.
"Do not tempt me." Ben asked, from the bathroom. His voice carried easily, what with the door left open, and Jango could easily see him get undressed, stripping off his shirt revealing the bandages that had been wrapped around his torso, covering Jango's handiwork from sight.
"I'll just burn what was contaminated and pay for the electrical damage. We'll find another place, soon enough."
"Fine. Just tell me if you need help?" He did not want to intrude - Ben may need time on his own. So he gathered all the linen, the remnants of his shirt, of Ben's clothes, and piled them at the foot of the bed. He retrieved his knife. And a glance at the mattress showed that even this will have to go. Getting better and better.
When he was done, he padded to the bathroom, to check on Ben, asking if he was doing alright.
The floor and the shower were clean and the bloody towels had been forcibly folded and piled up in a disposable basket. There was not a trace remaining of what had happened there.
Ben had put his shirt back on, but the high collar was undone, showing the bandages around his throat that it had previously hidden from sight. He was sitting on the toilet, back straight and eyes closed, but he opened them when Jango came in, looking up at him.
"Yes, I'm done here." He said, simply, getting up with a smooth movement that completely hid both the fact that he was on painkillers and the fact that he was injured at all. "I was collecting myself, with a bit of meditation."
Jango nodded. Ben looked like he just out of a battlefield. He said nothing, simply offering a smile before he took the basket outside, adding the sheets, pillows, and the relics of their garments.
"I think we can also take away the mattress itself."
He waited for Ben to get out - all the questions he had swirling in his mind, indistinct. He did not even know how to start without sounding like he was demanding something. He had clearly forgot how to human.
"I can feel your uncertainty, though I'm trying to leave you your privacy." Ben said, voice quieter, as he followed Jango out, his movements almost soundless. He offered an apologetic smile. "Just ask, I've found it's the best way."
"I just-" He shook his head. "Earlier, I asked you if you had any regrets. I meant it as the present moment. But you said you regretted many things. What are they?" He gathered Ben in a loose embrace. "You can not answer. But if it can help, to share it, you can."
And maybe now he really felt like the di'kut of the age but there. He just had the impression that it bothered Ben a great deal, and he cared.
He really did.
It surprised him how much.
Ben breathed in and then exhaled slowly, keeping his body lax in a way that was too precise to be natural.
"Deaths, that I could have prevented and didn't." He replied, after a moment's consideration. "I am not yet as good a Jedi as I ought to be and it has costed others." He paused and then forged ahead. "People who should have lived, including my Master. Both of us should have lived, not just me."
There was more, much more, that Ben wasn't saying, hidden in contest that Jango was lacking, compressed within the folds of Ben's words and carefully understated.
Ben looked more like people described Jedi to be, now, and less like the man who had shared his bed with Jango. The more he talked, the less he looked like that man, his voice smoothing out in High Coruscanti, clipped tones.
Like he was donning an armor.
Jango tightened his hold on Ben. Not staring into his eyes - it may make him more uncomfortable. He ran his hand in his hair, doing his best to soothe him.
"You don't have to be strong all the time." A pause. "You were young. You probably didn't know as much then. Look at it that way - was there any way at the time that you could have saved your master? Did you have the skills? And were these skills part of the training you had been given?" These questions were rhetorical. He did not know how Ben's master died. Probably gotten killed. If anything, it was a miracle Ben was still breathing.
"The dead..." He took a deep breath,doing his best to keep his own pain at bay. It was trying to choke him. "The dead don't come back. Don't blame yourself for being alive. It is the worst thing we inflict on ourselves. Living but being dead, plagued by our failures, which are not ours. The ones we gave ourselves - to justify the fact that death passed us by."
It had taken him years. Years to come to terms with the fact that he had lived, slavery had prevented him from feeling that guilt too much. But how many times had he wished he had not outlived all the ones he cared for? Now he had a reason to go on. But it had been too long. He hoped that Ben would see this. That outliving people was punishment enough.
"I don't blame myself for being alive." Ben said, quietly, wrapping his arms around Jango's back and leaning his head forward, resting his forehead on Jango's shoulder. "I blame myself for not having being a better Jedi. More dedicated, more willing to learn. I could have known more and I did not. I am trying to bridge that gap now, but I also have a padawan, an apprentice learner, and I need to see him through at the same time as I'm seeing myself through. It was my Master's dying wish that I would train him and so I did."
His voice sounded tired, resigned at the same time as it was willful. He sounded like a man who would not back down, no matter the cost to him personally.
"Yet you blame yourself for not being better. You don't have to be perfect. I don't know what happened. But we always see what we could have done better. It is easy, when you look back on it."
He kissed his temple, hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture.
"You don't to wear a mask all the time. It's alright to just let go." Ben seemed so young, and it bothered Jango - he read as a kid who had grown so fast that life must have been just hardship after another. Any other person, Jedi or not, would not have that kind of shields.
"You have a lot to deal with. And you are obviously a good Jedi, and a strong man. Seeing your master die, and take an apprentice right after." Without allowing yourself the time to grieve and heal. He wanted to take a bit of this pain, as he might once have hoped for someone to do it for him.
"Someone has to deal with it and I am the one it has fallen to." Ben said, voice quiet, and slowly breathed out. "I should not be complaining." A huff and then some quiet chuckles. "Complaining to brooding leads, brooding to the dark side leads." He said, sounding like he was quoting someone.
He wrapped his arms tighter around Jango, slotting their bodies together, and raised his head slightly, pressing a kiss to Jango's shoulder. "I'll be fine. You have helped me greatly, more than you can imagine."
"Surprised the whole galaxy has not gone dark already, considering the amount of complaining people do." He smiled.
"It's not complaining. I asked, you answered."
He cupped Ben's face, and kissed him gently. "I hope I did. And glad to help some more if I can." Another kiss, deeper, holding Ben as though he was afraid he would disappear.
"You made me feel wanted and not --" An hesitation, that Ben tries to cover by kissing him again. "-- not taken for granted or like I have to have all answers at any given moment." A softer kiss. "You made me feel human and not Master Jedi."
It hit Jango hard enough to hurt, for some reason he didn't look too closely at. Of course, he was not stupid enough to think everyone had it easy - not by a long shot and not since he had been a child. But it did something to him, to hear this kind of words from Ben. He heard the rest - that Ben had never really been wanted for who he was - perhaps not even for who he could become. At least that was what he felt.
"You are human, before you became a Jedi. You were born one. Not your fault if people are blind fools."
Jango was grateful for Boba not badgering him with questions at all time - and being overall quite willing to ask someone else when Jango could not - or would not - answer.
"You deserve to be wanted." Still want you, in the general sense of it. One of mine.
"A Jedi has to be able to be more than a human would be." Ben explains, not in the tone of a teacher but in a more quiet, thoughtful one. "A Jedi is selfless, where a human is selfish. A Jedi gives, not takes, and doesn't ask or accept payment or reward for it. A Jedi does not want for celebration of himself or his own deeds, just for peace."
What the kriff?
"How the heck are you supposed to just... provide for yourself? Food, rent? There is a vast difference between greed and having enough to live."
If anything he was more of the greedy type because he would rather catch the big fish.
"What if people want to give you something, recognition, express their gratitude - are you expected to turn them down too?"
He could understand the reasons to refuse if the reasons are 'not to take from people who have nothing', but peace can start there.
"Dare I even ask how do you and your friends even managed to get this place?"
He was angry. To him, it was more of a stupid idea stuck in people's mind to avoid paying them. Just like it was drilled in his men's mind. His clones. Whom no one seemed to see as humans. It disgusted him.
"The Order owns the Temple and District properties and both building and air rights to them." Ben replied, easily. It was quite clear that Jango's questions were ones he had had to answer in the past. "After the Ruusan Reformation a yearly percent of the Senate's budget was allocated to the Order and the Order was allowed to store what was left over for emergencies. It is not much, but it is necessary in paying the civilian contractors."
He took a step back, folding himself away into the Jedi, his body straightening and shifting into the pose of a proper Master. It irritated Jango, to see Ben disappear behind masks and shields until he might just as well have not existed in the first place.
"The Senate provides the transportation, we are housed within the Temple or the District here on Coruscant and in the Temples on Byss. The AgriCorps on Coruscant and Byss provide the food, cloth and other materials needed for our sustenance and for the fabrication of field meals and the like. What is left over go to the shelters, any surplus gets sold. The discoveries our Corps make are all offered to the whole of the galaxy, free of charge.
"We are not allowed to accept anything of great monetary value, but little gifts may be kept as long as they do not become something a Knight is attached to, at which point they should be turned over to the Archives." Ben explained, looking unperturbed by the idea that he was just supposed to give up everything and keep nothing of worth, no matter what his accomplishments. Jetii and their practices, teaching children to devalue their own successes and triumphs. Jango was never going to understand or approve of them.
"Cultural significant gifts should be turned to them. If donations are made they are to be made to the Order, not to the single individuals. We can own very few things, most of which acquired during our childhood or apprenticeship. I used to have models. My padawan tinkers with pieces of technology. My Master had many plants. Other than that, we only own our lightsaber and our clothes, though we have to requisition them if they were to get damaged or lost." Ben shrugged and it made Jango want to find his Master and give the man a lesson in how children ought to be raised.
"And as far as this apartment goes ... --" He broke off, the Master disappearing as if he'd never been there, leaving a sheepish man probably a couple of years shy of thirty. "-- we may or may have not took advantage of a loophole or two in the paperwork regarding the money budget for each mission and just ... failed to account for some Sabbac or Pazaak wins." He coughed, discreetly.
"After all, we only have to account for what we spent of what we were allotted and give back the rest. Extra funds are ... a matter up to the discretion of the Knight, or so we surmised." He ducked his head a bit. "As I said, I am not as good a Jedi as I ought to be." He added, more quietly.
Jango thought about it. While some of it could be somehow arranged to make sense - since the Order was autonomous - he still could not fault Ben for going around the system to get this place. Rather, he wanted to compliment him on his cleverness, but he knew he had to be careful about how he did it, or Ben might not accept the praise for what it was.
"If anything, it makes you a good diplomat, finding loopholes and all. And well, risking your life and doing what others ask of you seem like a good enough reason to overlook such a small slip." He grinned - pleased also to be faced with Ben and no more the Jedi Master.
"I promise I won't rat you out." He added: "Don't want to explain how I found out either."
He kissed him. "Pretty sure you have as many ways of being a Jedi as you have Jedi." So far, his experience with Jedi had been disastrous. And to him, going about, intervening in a war that was not theirs, and slaughtering his people, was far worse than not being the very best.
Ben kissed him back, turning the kiss into a slightly teasing one, nipping at Jango's mouth and then soothing the sting with his tongue.
"I can't drag you back on the bed." He murmured, on Jango's mouth, without drawing back. "I want to, but I really, really, can't. Garen will make me pay if I don't show up and relieve him of my padawan soon."
"We might have to destroy the whole bed as well..." He did not move back immediately - imprinting in his mind the moment itself, not wishing to let it go. He would have to go back too. Back to Kamino and constant monitoring, tasteless food and bitching from the scientists about whatever he had done to his body now. Boba and Jango's personal word of honor were the only reasons he had yet to tell them where to stuff their overbearing attitudes.
"Want a lift up there? Won't use my own ship but... Just in case." Just a few more moments - and really what was wrong with him?
He took a step backward, fingers running down Ben's neck over the bandages, so lightly.
"Maybe moving would be a good idea. Self-control is not my strong suit." Not around you, it seems. His voice had dropped to a purr, and did not do that on purpose. Or maybe a little.
"It is mine." Ben murmured and then, after a moment of what looked like an intense internal struggle, amended it to: "Usually, it is mine." in a voice that was far hoarser than Jango would have expected to be, and made a thrill of anticipation run down his spine.
And then Ben wrapped his left hand around the back of Jango's neck and dragged him closer, moving forward to meet him halfway, kissing him hard and deep, hungry.
Jango returned the kiss, feeling the hunger mixed with his own.
"I won't be able to hold back, Ben." And it was true. There was nothing he wanted more than this. To stay. And the painkillers dulled his body's shrieks of protest. Ben only had to say a word and Jango would - quite literally - pounce on him.
He cupped Ben's jaw, leaving an apologetic kiss on his lips. He wanted, yes. But now what not the time.
"Good, then." Ben said, briskly, clearly having made his decision in the moment of struggle from before and not about to go back on it, if the way he withdraw to shuck off his shirt was anything to go by. "Make it hard and fast and make it last because I don't know when we'll be able to cross paths again."
Jango didn't need to be told twice.
He backed Ben against the wall, hands either side of his face, and kissed him, biting his lower lip in the process. Then, in a low purr against Ben's mouth: “What about the pain, ner verd? Because there will be.”
He took off the shirt, tossed ot away, before pressing against Ben, sliding a thigh between his legs and up. He trailed a hand down Ben’s bandaged chest, worked open his pants. Pressed his palm to his cock - his skin so hot.
Jango was hard already, and he was certain his body will hate him but to hell with it. I want to fuck you against that wall, so hard you’ll feel me for days - each step you take, a reminder. Teeth against Ben’s jaw, catching on his hair.
Do it. Ben agreed. Fuck me as hard as you can. Make me feel all of your strength. He smirked, flashing his teeth, not so much egging Jango on as daring him to meet the expectations Ben had for him.
He pressed up against Jango's hand, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around Jango's waist. I want to feel you now and keep feeling you until it becomes just part of who I am.
"How could I ever say no?" He grinned - predatory, hungry - and kissed him thoroughly. He kicked off his boots, just in case, and opened his pants to that he could rub their cocks together, relishing the feeling - wrapped his hand around them. Light touch, a bit teasing.
He then asked, voice purring, promising. "But how do you want me to fuck you? Like we did in the shower? Or do you want me to fuck you with your back to the wall, like we almost started?"
He looked into Ben's eyes, licked his lips. I could fuck you almost raw, if you asked. I would do my best not to hurt you - more than you can handle, that is. Only if you'd like. Either way was fine, but he liked to let Ben know of other options. But he was going to wreck him and the wall was going to need to be destroyed, once they were done.
"The wall." Ben gasped, pupils so wide the iris was just a little ring of teal around them. "I want my back against the wall and for you to be as hard as you can be." Almost raw is good. I want almost raw. There was an impression, with the words, a very clear one. The information that Ben never gave himself an inch and now that he was, now that he was being selfish he wanted to get all he could have and sink his teeth in what he couldn't, to at least taste it.
Jango kissed him, urgent and feral, as he tugged Ben's pants down. As soon as Ben had stepped out of them, Jango pressed himself flush against him - aware how Ben's back was flat against the wall. He could feel heat radiating from him through the fabric of his pants.
Slid his knee between his legs, inching closer until his thigh rubbed against Ben's cock. Slowly. "Spread your legs for me." More an order than a request. Nuzzled Ben's bandaged neck where he had bitten him so harshly. His hand back to stroking Ben, his thumb brushing the head.
He brought his hand back up, considered his next move for an instant - licking his fingers as he did so, half-lidded eyes intent on Ben. He then pressed his index and middle fingers to Ben's lips. "Give me a hand, Ben." Suck. Make sure you get them slick. Kissed his jaw, his leg still pressing lightly against him.
Ben opened his lips and waited for Jango to slide his fingers in. He started lapping at them, pressing his tongue to the fingerpad, dragging it up to scrape against the nail and pressing the smooth underside of his tongue against the top of it. Only once he had done he actually started sucking on them, sloppily to get them properly wetter.
Wish I could do this to your cock. He moaned in Jango's mind, the image of looking up at Jango from what had to be a kneeling position following on the heels of the thought.
Jango growled, low, at the thought. It had crossed his mind earlier, but the image made it even more vivid - he could almost feel it. He withdrew his hand to kiss him, making it filthy - another time, perhaps.
He did not waste time, moving quickly to press a finger to Ben's hole, slipping it inside. He bit his lower lip, kissed him once more, as he started stroking him with his free hand. Imprinting the same pace to both hands, making it a counterpoint. Tell me when. He did not trust his painkillers-addled brain to call the shots. He added another finger to the first one, curling them forward, and kept the pressure as he went deeper - his grip tightening on Ben's cock.
His kisses more urgent, hunger clawing at him with a vengeance - he wanted more, to take as much as he could from that moment, something to keep and bring back with him. Anything.
Ben gasped against his mouth, his left arm wrapping around Jango's waist, his right hand curling around the back of Jango's neck, holding on to him and rutting against his thigh. He moved in concert with Jango's fingers, drowning moans into Jango's mouth as his thumb pressed down on where one of the scrapes had been, now healed.
You'll have the memory and the knowledge that I will be walking with your mark on my back. Ben offered, gasping. "I'm ready, I'm more than ready, just fuck me Jango." The words echoed, voice and thought expressing the need at the same time. If you want more, I'll let you take a holo of my back. Take off the bandages and have you redo them after you've taken it. He offered sounding lust-drunk, need-drunk or possibly both.
A tangible image of my naked back with your symbol in it. Proof that there is someone, out there, bearing the True Mandalorians symbol into fights and battles, if they happen to break out. It was a gasped offering. Everything Jango, just fuck me.
Jango kissed him, rough, and curled his fingers one last time before he pulled them out. He stroke himself a few times, spreading precome all over his skin - gritting his teeth not to go faster than needed.
He took hold of the back of Ben's thighs and lifted him against the wall. The painkillers dulled the strain. He kept his position for Ben to put his legs around his sides, splitting his weight between the wall, Jango, and his own hold.
Jango let him slide down a bit, and shifted until he could feel his cock pressing against Ben's hole.
Kissing him deeply, Jango slowly let Ben slid down. He breathed heavily, and let out a moan as he sank deeper into Ben - so slowly, the strain more evident now. He pressed his body flush against his, trapping him against the wall. Stopped for a moment, buried to the hilt as he was inside of Ben. And then, still holding him against the wall, he rocked his hips, shallow thrusts until he found Ben's prostate. So perfect. His thoughts a low purr.
He mouthed at Ben's throat, above the bandages. His grip on his thighs unwavering as he set a hard pace, occasionally lifting Ben up and then letting him down to meet his thrusts. Fucking him as deep and hard as he could, relishing the feeling of his cock trapped between them, how hot Ben was - and yes, a holo of his back was a great idea. So that I get a reminder...
... until next time. Ben finished the thought for him, words almost stuttering out of him, as his nails dig into Jango's skin and he hissed at the pressure of the wall against his covered and bandaged back. He rested his head back, the bandaged throat perfectly in Jango's sight. While I'll just be able to look myself in the mirror and know.
And feel, when you'll move. Jango mouthed at his throat, nipped his jaw. Ben's hold on him was merciless, urging him on. His thrusts more erratic as pleasure turned into heat.
Better make sure that you'll be able to see it for a long time, then. He drew him in a bruising kiss, his grip tightening enough on Ben's thighs to leave marks, he was sure of it.
He was not going to last, not like this, not with Ben's body clenching around him like a vice, not when his hands pressed on fresh scars. Not when got the certainty that they would meet again.
He called his name - a warning or a plea, he could not tell. He came with a choked cry, unable to resist pleasure as it crashed into him, crushing him. He managed to stay upright.
He kissed Ben, apologetic. How do you want me to finish you, ner ver? With my fingers, as I suck you dry, milking you for what you’re worth? As he spoke, the image danced in his mind, and he knew Ben could see it.
He pulled out, slowly, and steadied Ben until they both were standing. Jango kissed him, stroking Ben’s cock - gathering precome on his hand, and sank to his knees.
Right hand holding Ben against the wall, he licked his cock all the way up, taking just the head in his mouth as he pushed two fingers into him. Curling them as he went deeper, while he teased him with his tongue.
Ben made a sobbing sound, trying to roll his hips and failing, because of Jango's right hand. He was looking down at Jango, pupils so big now that he looked drugged on lust, on the sight of Jango down on his knees.
'm not going to be able last. He managed to send, sounding rushed, breathless, wrecked. I'm going to scream. Jango. His name and then his name again and again until it became an increasingly rushed mantra, a chanting of Jango's name as if Ben couldn't think of anything else but what he was feeling and seeing thanks to him.
He did not stop, nor did his pace let up - his fingers stroking and curling alternatively, making the most of it. He took more of Ben in his mouth - not this much - grazed his teeth on his skin as he pulled away, his tongue applying more pressure are he came back. And he egged Ben on, providing him with a mirror of what Jango himself saw - his head thrown back, body taut with the promise of his release, hair clinging to his face and neck.
Jango moved his hand slightly, digging his fingers into a bite mark he had given him before. He felt Ben's cock twitch right before he came in his mouth - and he did not pull away, not even when Ben broke from his hold and fucked his mouth. He took it, swallowed as his fingers still worked inside of him, letting Ben ride his orgasm for all that he was worth, listening to the man promised cry of Jango's own name, until Ben's legs buckled under his weight. And still, the pressure he was no expecting, keeping them in place, before it ebbed away like the tide.
He got up quickly, though he still took the time to withdraw leisurely, making Ben feel every inch of the way. He kissed his neck, his temple, his lips - holding him close so that he would not collapse. He felt light-headed, but he ignored it.
You were perfect, ner verd. So perfect. A whisper of Ben's name, falling easily - he would not leave gladly, even if he knew he had to. And even if the pain in his bones was flaring back to life.
Ben held on to him, fingers trembling as they curled around Jango's biceps. The pain drained away as Ben pressed his left cheek against Jango's neck, gulping down air and shivering from the aftershock of his orgasm.
"Jango." He half-whispered, half-croaked. He did scream Jango name as he was coming and his voice sounded like it, rough and jagged. "Jango." He repeated and held on to him as he still tried to recover the air he'd lost, sounding wrecked.
“Yes, Ben?” He held him tighter, left hand moving up and down his back lightly. He twisted his head to the side to kiss his temple. He could feel the tremor running along his spine, and part of him basked in the knowledge that he held his promise - to wreck Ben completely.
They could not stay up like this. Once again, Jango scooped Ben up and brought him to the bare mattress – it was going to be disposed of later, it did not matter. He sat and lied down, bringing Ben on top of him.
And if this was not exactly the best idea if they wanted to be on their way fast… who cared?
Jango kept stroking his back in soothing circles, waiting for Ben to come down.
They kissed, when he finally did, slow, kind of lazy - too far gone to do much of anything else bit enjoying the touch, the closeness.
Ben didn't seem to have words left in him, kissing Jango and reveling in his presence, touching him with hands made clumsy by his drowsiness. He felt at peace, happy, the closeness making him happier still.
Jango was perfectly content lying there, and would have liked to stay there for a while. It felt right,he did not have the urge to leave - no, he wanted to say.
But his commlink - which he had dutifully ignored until then - chose this moment to give an ominous bleep, signalling the next messages will not be recorded. He heard another beep from elsewhere but did not think twice about it.
And then, hell broke loose in the form of a wall of sound that made him jump so hard that he almost toppled Ben.
Vau’s voice mixing with another – young and loud, the mixing of the two different sounds jarring.
"Master we had to see the council --" "Get your ass back here Fett I'm --" “-- Knight Muln said to tell you he's not going to stand in for you in front of --" "--both of our jobs and you are not paying me enough --" " --da and are you okay Master? I've tried reaching you through the bond but --" "-- I am going to put them all in the infirmary --" "-- do you need me to come and get you? I think I can get the position off --" "-- so kriffing hurry back." "-- just say the word and I'll be right there with Temple Security."
Jango was momentarily dazed, and stared at Ben like he just awoke and the building had come crashing down. They scrambled for their respective commlinks, doing what they could to avoid getting brought back by security, for Ben, or a complete rampage when he would get back to Kamino, for Jango.
He discarded his commlink, and turned to look at Ben, looking sheepish. He had not expected the wake-up call to be so loud.
Ben had a sheepish look of his own, hands busy in carefully unwinding the bandages that were wrapped around his torso.
"I think you ought to take your holo picture and then we should go." He admitted with a sigh. "At least, I should go, before my padawan loses what little patience he has left and comes here with half the Temple, to recover me."
"Not something I'm looking forward to." He offered him a smile, and moved to help him remove the last of the bandages. Although he did take a second to sort out his pants - last thing he needed was to trip. Especially since he was still feeling a bit fuzzy.
He was not prepared, when he stepped around Ben, to see his symbol still there, spread across his whole back. Dark lines, and red skin. Scars forming, raising his skin. He snapped two holos, one a close-up. For no particular reason that it looked like he could touch him if he reached out.
He did not dare touch it. It was moving as Ben breathed. He stepped around, and kissed Ben - hands in his hair - how soft it was.
"Thank you," he whispered against his lips. "Do you have extra bandages and something to put on your back, to patch you back up?" Fingers trailing down Ben's neck, down his arms - holding his hands loosely.
"Just put the bandages I rolled up back on." Ben kissed him again, squeezing Jango's hands and passing him the large roll he had made up. "They'll hold until I get to the Temple and through with my morning."
"Alright." He then proceeded to put the bandages back on, making sure to cover Ben's shoulders for additional protection and support. Tight enough to prevent chaffing. He worked fast, hands moving deftly as he was carefully to keep the bandages completely flat. He picked the fastenings last, securing them on Ben's left side so that he could reach them more easily.
"All done." And yet he did not remove his hands from Ben's sides. He stared at him, unsure what to say - it was a good bye, he knew. To postpone his departure, he went to rummage through his jacket. Found a pen - always had one just in case, whether he needed it to write on a piece of flimsi or stab someone with an unexpected weapon while in his civvies.
He walked back to Ben, and lifted his left arm - tracing carefully the frequency to his commlink. "If you want to reach me. Since I can't say where I am usually." And it probably did not amount to much, and maybe Ben won't use it. All the same.
"I'll try to send you messages, from time to time, to let you know how I am." Ben nodded, watching him trace out the number. "I can't promise regular exchanges, but I will try to not disappear, as much as my missions allow me to."
Jango nodded. "I don't expect you to - regular calls. Jobs could have me falling from the radar." He paused. "It's only if you want to." He traced his fingers down to Ben's wrist. He did not tell Ben that this frequency was used only by a few. A chosen few. He tried to keep the thought hidden, imagining layers wrapping over it and obscuring it from sight.
He kissed Ben, softly, holding him close. "Better get going, else I won't move at all and I'll get your padawan on my case for abducting you."
He put on the shirt, and checked that he had everything he needed. He walked back to Ben, stealing another kiss. He made it slow and gentle - committing to memory everything about the moment. How his skin felt under his hands, his smell, his taste - how his body felt against his. Feeling like he was leaving something behind.
Ben kissed him back, turning the kiss into a lingering one as he wrapped Jango into his arms, body brushing against Jango's as they held onto each other.
"I will leave you messages." He promised, his voice quiet, when they drew back from each other. "I want to."
Jango smiled, offering a nod. "Thanks." He paused again, and let out a sigh.
"Ret'urcye mhi, ner verd." He felt the rush to add something but he pushed it away, not knowing what to say. He kissed him again, softly, and then made his way to the door, Ben walking with him. The pull was still there. He had no idea why.
"Ret'urcye mhi, Jango." Ben's replied, voice quiet and soft, once they passed the threshold, brushing his hand against Jango's arm and taking away more of the pain. Enough that he would be able to reach his ship before he might need to take more of the pills the medic at the shelter had given him.
"Thank you, Ben." He stepped closer, leaving a brief kiss at the corner of his lips - almost imperceptible. He pressed his forehead to Ben's, not saying a word but he did not feel the need to. His hand brushing his throat briefly, without applying any pressure.
He stepped back, smiling at Ben. He then left, while he could. He had lingered too long already, even though it felt like he had not enough time. It took him a while to reach Slave I. Mostly because he was slightly unsteady - he blamed the medicine.
As soon as he got there, he wasted no time. He had checked everything before he left for his drink the day before. He took off, and waited until it was safe for him to put the ship on autopilot before taking his pill. He put in the coordinates to Kamino, checking twice - he felt weird... Light-headed. He had to rest before he reached Kamino - Vau would never get off his back as soon as he would see him. He checked his commlink - most of it was Vau ranting at him. And asking him if he had to get him from the gutter, of all things.
He commed Vau, and did not even let him speak. "I'm leaving Coruscant. Be there as soon as I can. Save your breath until then, okay?"
"As you want. Will be waiting."
As soon as the call was ended, Jango reclined in his seat. He could not had moved even if he had wanted to.
In seconds, he was out like a light.