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marisferasiop · 8 months

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PAKLALAT

<18 DNI explicit content below the cut. By clicking "readmore" you are consenting to viewing this content.

Continuation of part one (ao3 also in the link)

Also on ao3

Pairing: Ezra/reader/Din Djarin

Summary: Din drops you and Ezra and Grogu off with a friend on Tatooine while he runs back to return the bounty to Cantonica. He has a rough journey. When he returns, you and Din have a little surprise for Ezra.

Content summary: tremendous smut. Literally all of it. Gay, straight, poly, etc.

Word count: about 24k, hope you're hungry

Vanth’s mouth is set in a grim line of frustration, but Din presses his luck like a bruise. “They will work around town, we’re not asking for a handout. Surely someone has a spare room.”

“It ain't the handing out or the work I'm annoyed by, and you know it ,” Vanth quips, making Din suppress a flinch.

He hadn't exactly left Freetown under the best terms last time. But Fett is out on a fresh self-appointed warpath and Peli didn't have a spare room to house you in, so he had been led to drop you in Freetown. He can still vaguely feel Vanth’s unimpressed glare and deprecating questions like needles under his armor.

Din just hopes the bitterness ends there. For both your and Ezra’s sake. He’ll take the ire on himself when it reaches a boiling point.

“I won't be here. I’m only asking you to hide them while I turn in proof of death and return, and we’ll be back out of your way.”

A muscle rolls in Cobb's jaw and he stares back, already knowing the answer is yes because he can’t seem to deny Din anything (except leaving). “There’s a one-room hut free at the end of the row. Rast lived alone, and died last week in a shaft collapse. Your outfit can have it. I’ll let them know if we need hands, otherwise they can stay hidden.”

Mando nods his appreciation and stands, awkwardly taking his leave without shaking on the deal before Vanth changes his mind or adds stipulations. Maker , he’d left a mess behind.

The two suns bake him within his beskar as he walks out, boots sinking in the sand. Just at the edge of the ship landing flats is the Crest . The sight of the three of you spilling out onto the relative shade beside it and letting the kid run around with a few town children makes his heart clench.

Din nods to you both, scales the ramp, and starts packing a kit bag. Within a minute, you are standing behind him. Ezra stays seated at the top of the ramp, legs dangling off the side, and tips his head back to watch both you and keep an eye on Grogu still playing.

“What's the deal?” You ask.

“You three will lay low in the hut at the end of the row. Recently vacated. Vanth says he’ll reach out if he needs working hands. Otherwise nothing. Doesn't want an exchange.”

“Was he an asshole about it?”

Din sighs through his nose and pauses, shakes his head. “No, but it's clear I'm on thin ice.”

“What happened last time? In case we are also on thin ice? So we can understand.”

Din hesitates and stops packing. “We… Had a few weeks of layover here before I met you. Actually, when I met you, I was leaving from being here. The Marshal and I had a… tryst . I asked him if he wanted to leave with me, because Grogu and I needed to keep moving before I got rid of Moff Gideon, and when he said no , I accepted it and still left. He is still somewhat bitter about it.”

“And bringing back two new partners who are willing to travel and care for your weird green kid just rubs salt in the wound. Kevva , Din, we couldn't have gone anywhere else?” Ezra asks from the doorway, frowning.

“Not just anywhere is as safe as here would be, paklalat . No one’s going to look for you here, in the middle of the Dune Sea in a town not on any map. And if they do , iisa and the Marshal can easily take them out. He’s a sharp shot, even with the mod.”

“What's a mod ?”

“It’s a mechanized replacement of a missing body part. Usually limbs, but a really good mod artist can do organs,” you answer and quirk a small smile when Ezra blinks and glances down at his stump, frowning. Din interrupts both your thoughts:

“I’ll be back as soon as I make the drop. Maybe two weeks? Cantonica is roughly four standard days each way.” Din shoulders the heavy kit bag stuffed with clothes and supplies for Grogu, yourself, and Ezra to lay low for a few weeks. “Come on. The faster I go, the quicker I'm back.”

You grab a couple blankets and stuff them in Grogu’s pram along with Din’s pillow. When he tips his helmet at you, you tip your chin up at him and arch a challenging eyebrow. “For your scent.”

A pink-cheeked Ezra dips his chin to smile at his boots and chuffs a soft laugh when Mando hesitates before plodding down the ramp with an amused huff. He scoops up the kid and keeps walking, barely breaking stride.

Vanth meets the four of you outside the entrance to the single dome of a small below-ground hut. He eyes each of you skeptically before smiling at the kid and nodding back at the house. You watch the scales of his fine metal fingers shift against his belted hip as he turns.

“This is a binary star system?” Ezra says quietly, almost under his breath, more musing than asking, squinting up at the blinding sky.

“It is, pak . The larger is Tatoo I, smaller is Tatoo II. Three moons, too.” Din turns and watches the other man’s eyebrow climb up his forehead toward that blonde patch and turns back to you. He can feel the pinpoint accuracy of all Vanth’s questions being fired at the back of his helmeted head.

Instead of asking any of them, Vanth simply explains through a furrowed brow: “Little house, but it has a bed and a condensator, and keeps the sand and heat out, which is what matters out here. We got a nasty summer storm blowing in, probably be in late tonight, early tomorrow, by the feel of it. Stay inside; won’t go chasin’ after you if you get caught in it.”

He gives you the door code and watches with a frown as you and Ezra nod your thanks and disappear down into the dark, cool underground space. Din waves the pram down after you and follows, followed by Vanth. He stands in the doorway, hazel eyes adjusting to the low light.

“Y’all need anything, shout. The cantina has food and I'm at the other end of the row. Door with the stripes.” He taps his belt buckle and meets eyes with Ezra, seemingly finally noticing his missing arm. Vanth flexes his own shoulder injury and clears his throat. “I suggest getting a couple a’ packed meals from Taanti to store in the cooler for the next few days while the storm rages.”

“How long do they last out here?” You ask, recalling the storms in Mos Eisley that we're usually gone in a day after pounding the taller buildings with sand and wind. Out here there was nothing to slow it down except the low, worn mountains in the distance.

“Usually a day or two. Longer if it's a bigger one. Let’s say to prep for three days.” He dips his chin when you nod in understanding and taps the doorframe with a palm, pushing off and making his exit.

The three of you stand around a low table in what appears to be a very small sitting room. Grogu blinks and gurgles from Ezra’s elbow, pushing curiosity at you. There is a two-seat couch and the table, along an adjacent wall is a cooler and sonic for a sink, as well as a slow drip for farmed water. There is a door that you assume is the ‘fresher, and another that disappears into black darkness- what must be a bedroom.

Din glances around the space and silently checks each room habitually, noting exits and anything else he has on his mental list while you and Ezra unload your kit. Snacks and meds go on the kitchen counter, bedding and clothes in respective places. You don't exactly spread out like you're moving in, but it's a near thing. Given how intimate the space is, it’s hard not to. It's scarcely larger than the Crest .

Ezra seems to be oddly quiet and feeling a bit awkward. “You okay?” You ask, coming to sit by him on the little sofa. He hums at you and pushes his forehead into your palm when you stroke his sweaty hair back.

“I had not thought about the idea of a- a prosthesis until now, seeing this Marshal of yours,” he flicks his eyes up at Din.

“I promise I don't have a thing for one-armed men,” Mando snarks with a tilted helmet, making you both chuckle. “Vanth was injured in a shootout by another bounty hunter who was trying to send a message to me during a turf war here. Another Mandalorian involved in the battle fitted him with the mod after the fight.”

“I imagine that's quite an expensive gift,” Ezra murmurs. He thinks of his own penniless state and feels an old- familiar wash of jealousy take over him.

“Fett still has the mod artist, they live in his compound…” Din trails off, clearly thinking ahead. “I will contact him. Trade in a favor, if you want it. He owes me a few.” but Ezra is already shaking his head.

“You are already doing me several undeserved favors. I will earn my keep and a new arm, if and when I am able.”

You and Din share a flat look before he shrugs off the conversation and comes closer and drops to a knee in front of the sofa. He presses his forehead to yours and holds you there for a moment in a Keldabe kiss, his thumb tracing up your nape before doing the same to Ezra.

“ Behave ,” he says to the kid and pulls him out of Ezra's arm for a hug. “ Please don't go outside once the storm starts. I’ll be back quick as I can.”

Grogu fusses at him and wants to go too. You tell Din as much, translating, and he pauses. “If you stay here you can play with the town kids, and eat real food. I’m only dropping something off and coming right back. No fights.”

The gurgle and wrinkly little green frown Din receives in answer is mighty enough to make him drop his head back and chuckle. “Two weeks, at most. Don't make any of the kids fly. Or take their food ,” he says firmly, earning a grumble. You snort at the orange flare of annoyance, tinged blue at the edges with worry and take the kid back, juggling him on your hip.

“He’ll be okay, little bean.”

“I will. Be good for iisa .”

Din nods at you and pulls his hand out of the kid’s grasp, using it to ruffle Ezra's wild hair as he walks past. “ You, too, paklalat. ” He slants the visor down to meet Ezra’s gaze and tugs lightly at the blonde patch at the other man’s temple, earning a grin, and disappears up the stairs.

_______________

The minute Din steps back into the road through the center of town, he feels a particular set of eyes on him from the mouth of the cantina. Instead of shirking confrontation, he decides to get it over with. Maybe talking, even briefly, will sway Vanth into not treating either of you like a nuisance.

“Go on.” He stays in the sand and looks up at Cobb, hands hanging at his sides. The mod shimmers in the sunlight when the Marshal hangs a thumb on his belt, hip cocked. He chews his lip and squints down at Din, warring over something.

“You with both of ‘em?”

Din concentrates on not clenching his fingers and holds perfectly still for a beat too long. He nods.

“How’d you meet ‘em? Travelin’?”

“I picked up a bounty on May. We got dosed with a pollination spice and… Came together. So to speak.”

“What's his name? Pack ?”

“Ezra. I call him paklalat . Means talkative . He never shuts up.”

Cobb snorts, his smile rueful. “How’d he lose the arm? Not a shootout for your benefit, that would be almost too funny.” The smile stretched on his face turns a little more brittle.

“A prior injury had turned gangrenous when I found him. I amputated it in the field. Iisa nursed him to health.”

“And the other? Iisa ?”

“A friend of the ship mechanic I use in Mos Eisley. Took the job I offered to stay on as crew, upkeep the ship and mind the kid. Also got spiced.”

“So then this trip you're on to drop off proof of death. It’s on the fella?”

“Yes. I don't know if they sent other fobs out for him. The intent is to discourage further bounties on his head.”

Vanth whistles low and shakes his head. “Alright.”

“Just hide them. Iisa is a sharpshooter, they can defend themselves if the need arises. Ideally, no need will arise. No one knows we're in this sector except you.”

“I told you I would. Now go on, so you can get back. This ain't exactly a vacation town.”

________________

You and Ezra decide to go for sustenance before you settle in further. Many people in the tiny town seem to recognize Grogu handily enough and wave at him, but offer you and Ezra suspicious glances before they keep moving.

The cantina is lined already with customers who all seem to have the same agenda as you. The barkeep, a weequay the Marshal had called Taanti , comes over and adds your order to the list before he gets cooking.

You squeeze into two seats in a corner, tucked away but still very visible to the townsfolk who are craning their necks and muttering with side-eye glances. The energy thrumming around you is incredibly fraught with curiosity and anxiety. You shove your attention to the kid, watching him observe everyone, how he does.

Grogu sits quietly on the triangle of Ezra’s lap where his ankle is perched on the opposite knee, watching the smattering of dusty, exhausted miners watching them back. He pushes you some curiosity tinged with a morose blue at the edges, and you thumb the soft leather of his ear fondly.

“Mind if I join?”

You glance up to see the Marshal standing nearby with three snort glasses hooked on his fingers and the neck of a decanter in his mod hand. “Sure.”

He hands you the goods and drags over a chair. “Drink?” He takes back a snort and the decanter and tips the bottle at you. Ezra shrugs and you hold out both glasses for Vanth to pour for you, and hand Ezra one. He pulls a mighty face at the brine of it when he knocks it back and you smother a laugh, sipping your own.

“This is a regular imbibement?” Ezra chokes, salivating to wash the taste out.

“Pretty common liquor in the Outer Rim, yeah.”

“You a Core fella?” Vanth asks, tipping his head at Ezra. Neither of you miss how his tawny eyes flicker over the man’s pinned tunic sleeve before resting on his face.

“Far, far from it, Marshal. I am from the outer reaches. The Unknown Regions, I believe you all call it, here. Further even than the Outer Rim. Capitalism and feudalism has destroyed most viable planets in my galaxy, and many of those planets remaining viable are mired in the same such muck. And so I came to this galaxy seeking fortune, and have paid dearly for that audacity and greed, though I can’t complain too much about my lot, right now.” Ezra smiles warmly at you and you shake your head at him, flushing.

You make small talk for a short while before Taanti arrives with several boxes of steaming ahrise and roasted desert veg and some sort of synth protein, stacked neatly in a crate. The kid tries to dig into one immediately, but you shoulder the crate.

Ezra stands and holds his hand out to take the kid back. “It was nice to chat, Marshal. Come to us if your folks need aid after the storm, we’re happy to lend a few hands.”

Vanth nods at you both and you leave, leading Ezra and Grogu back down the darkening street to the hut you’ve been allotted. Ezra stops and stares up at two bright moons and the bright lip of a third, just edging above the horizon. You point them out by name; the smallest, Chenini, is high in the sky, followed by the larger Guermessa and Ghomrassen just coming up.

“Would you like to try and comm Cee before the storm hits?” You ask Ezra once inside, stuffing the containers of food in the cooler. Grogu is at the low table shoving fistfuls of ahrise into his mouth and blinking up at you.

Ezra quirks a soft, slow grin and nods. “I would.” You hand him a datapad and headset from your kit and move around the hut, opening the tiny sand vents for fresh, cooler evening air and locking the only door. You decide to inspect the ‘fresher for the best way to clean up the kid before bed.

“ Hello, number three, ” you hear from the sitting area, and turn back to see Ezra sitting cross legged on the floor, the datapad flickering on the table and the earbud in his ear. He smiles- soft and wide- looking at a truly terrible image from the datapad’s weak signal while Cee says something. He chuffs a laugh. “No, they decided not to. Uh– Mando is off dealing with the bounty I had on me, so I will be presumed dead. His partner and I - and the Child - are laying low at the moment. But tell me about you , little bird. How is school?”

Grogu has finished his food and made quite a mess. He rubs a knuckle into a sleepy eye and yawns. “Come on ya little womp rat. Clean up and bedtime, I think.” You scoop him up and carry him to the fresher, leaving Ezra to talk and giggle with his girl.

After a thorough sonic for his robe and full wipe down with a damp cloth, Grogu is pristinely green and drooping with a full belly. You carry him back in and settle him in his pram, floating in the corner of the little sitting room.

By the time Ezra wraps up his call and tells Cee goodbye, Grogu is snoring steadily, starfished in his pram with one of Din's old capes draped across him and clenched in one tiny fist. You are leaning against the worktop eating your dinner.

“Yours is here,” you tell him, and the man gets up and comes over to the small kitchenette.

“Thank you, gem. For the call and reheating the food. It will be novel to enjoy something other than your delicious soup and those bland ration bars, I must admit.”

You hum, smiling, and let him tuck his limbless side against your right hip and shoulder. He leans on you a bit, eating methodically with his off hand.

Scooping ahrise is a skill that needs to be honed , he learns.

“She doing ok?”

“Oh, Cee’s doing just fine. Making friends and writing, reading all she wants, getting good marks so far. She’s a smart girl, and didn't have much opportunity to explore her interests or high intelligence with that selfish prick of a father she had. I must say I'm not exactly put out about adding his name to my red ledger. Not if it meant she got a better life for it.” he pushes his empty plate and fork into the sonic sink and buzzes them clean one-handedly.

“Now what do we do?”

You press your forehead into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his trim waist, feeling Ezra drop his face down into the curve of your neck. He’s blessedly put on a couple pounds since you and Din took him on weeks ago; regular meals and not running for his life while sweating out in a full- hazard suit will do that to a man. You’re glad to see the wan bonyness of malnutrition leaving him, filling out his face and padding his belly and bum. Even Din had remarked a day or so previous (while gripping May’s hips and fairly pounding into him) at the extra cushioning (which had earned him a well-placed pillow to the head and a resounding tackle- after they’d come).

“Whatever we like, I guess. Not much to do but wile away the hours.”

“ Hmm .” A careful nibble over your clavicle makes you flinch with the small tickle, your chin dipping toward the shoulder he’s resting on and then- it’s hardly a turn of his head to catch you in a kiss. You huff a laugh against his mouth and return it, hooking your arm behind his head to keep him close. “I can think endlessly of things to do with you, gem, were I permitted.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” you tease, coaxing his tongue into your mouth with a flick of your own. Ezra groans into you softly, careful not to wake the child, and urges you the few feet to the side toward the bedroom door.

________________

Din sets the course for Cantonica and sighs heavily, weighing the benefits of comming Boba Fett now or waiting. He sounded busy previously. Maybe the return trip would be better. With hope, whatever firefight the older Mandalorian has gotten himself into will be over by then.

Bringing Ezra to Fett provides a certain bit of anxiety for Din, though. Fett is one of very few living beings that has seen Din’s face. Bo- Katan, Skywalker, Cara Dune, and Mayfeld join Grogu in that very short (though not short enough ) list.

Would Fett bring it up? Potentially out him to both you and Ezra? Assuming he did the favor in the first place.

If so, it would be accidental. Fett may not have the same beliefs as Din, but he is respectful. And if he did- what would that mean? Having you and Ezra know what he looked like, without him ever baring his face? Would that break his Creed? Does intention matter?

His stomach sours at the idea of leaving Ezra disabled over such a selfish and unassured concern. He will simply tell Fett to keep his thoughts to himself before they arrive.

He decides to comm Fett on his way back to Tatooine.

_______________

Your hand grips the flimsy shelf above the bed dangerously hard- any more pressure will definitely make it fall. You yank your hand back, shocked away from the edge Ezra has you balanced on for a brief second.

Ezra groans deep and low, trying to be quiet. He has a mouthful of your breast, the tender underside in his teeth, your stiff nipple just under the ledge of his fuzzy upper lip, ticklish and warm and wet . You gasp at the curl of his fingers inside you and card your nails through his hair, as if yanking him any closer will change it.

Since he had lost the arm and once you, he, and Din had begun sleeping together after the spice incident, you’ve both made a concerted effort to make sure Ezra’s remaining hand is put to good use.

It builds Ezra's confidence to watch either of you fall apart on his fingers, the singular treat of it almost better than when he’s using his mouth. Ezra’s eyes get dark and distant, watching you ride his palm, watching his fingers disappear up into Din, your face as it buckles with desire, the solid thunk of a helmet being dropped in the dark before he’s dragged upward into a blindfolded kiss, his fingertips dancing over a swollen prostate.

The rule is a simple one, and only a few days old in your short tenure with Ezra. If he can make you or Din come on his fingers, with his hand only, he can have you any way he likes. (It just so happens that what he likes involves a bit of manhandling and exertion of control, which suits both of you just fine.)

Now, Ezra’s hand is laying on its back on his thigh, fingers curved upward into you and your clit grinding against the heel of his palm. Your back curves sharply, and his cock throbs untouched against your thigh; he can’t touch it and you, but he doesn't mind waiting for his reward.

“ Please , my love. Come for me.” He wants to be inside you so badly but he is patient. He wants to earn it. You riding him, his own orgasm. Ezra likes being put to use and being rewarded with attention and touch. He moves on to your other breast, laving his tongue wide before latching on your nipple with a firm suck. Your fists curl tighter in his hair, your hips grinding on his fingers, squishing his palm against his thigh with a thick-slick glide that's just not enough friction.

“Ezra. Too wet - I need– OH!“ you gasp as he curves his thumb up, adjusting a third finger inside and tilting his wrist, and you shiver from the added stretch and proper stimulation.

“There you go, gem. Please come, please give it to me? I need to feel it,” he pants, moving his head to catch your other nipple in his mouth as you bounce above him, right in his face. He could come from this, maybe. Enough of it. His cock aches , trailing wet smears across your thigh and hip as you jostle him with your rough riding.

Your grip in his hair tightens and he feels you start to seize around his digits, ready to go over the edge. “Ki- kiss me, ” you demand, pulling his head back, and he’s helpless to comply with you; eager to, in fact. He licks into your mouth, scraping teeth over your lip and curls his fingers into that spongy patch and- you’re gone . He drinks down your cut-off noises, riding your high with you and hoping he’s earned a treat as well.

He is propped up on the pillows, in the position you’d put him in when you’d climbed into bed so he could reach all the parts of you you’d wanted seen- to. Now you’re listless and sated, but eyeing him keenly. His cock pulses against your thigh, a blurt of precome welling up and dripping down, tickling. He almost yanks his hand away to grab it but you sit down harder, anticipating him. You shiver above him, still tender and pulsing as you come down.

“Does my sweet boy need to come?” You coo, lightly scritching your nails over his inner thighs, his skin wet and sticky from your release.

“ Please , gem. I would greatly appreciate fucking you to completion again, if I may.”

“You may , May,” you giggle against his grin, laying beside him and propping your hips on a pillow. “But first, I'd like your mouth to soften the senses a bit. Don’t you dare come on the sheets,” you tease, already spotting him rutting against the fabric piled beneath his hips as he settles on his belly and elbow between your knees. “I want you to fill me.”

“Aye- aye.” He sighs, and starts out soft, tasting you carefully and avoiding your tender clit. A few firm drags of his tongue is enough to blur the sharp oversensitivity back into arousal. Your goal this time isn’t orgasm, but Ezra now knows you on his tongue so well he could get you there very easily.

“I want your cock , baby,” you whine after a few scant moments, tugging his forelock for attention. He chuckles against you and drops a suckling kiss on your swollen clit before pushing himself upright.

“I could hear you say that forever, gem. How do you want it?”

“Like this,” you say, tipping onto your right hip and carefully draping your left leg up and over his damaged shoulder. The position makes him straddle your right leg and allows him to get as deep as possible. The tilted position also allows for the fat width of his cock to feel even girthier, rubbing on your spongy g-spot perfectly.

“Does my gem want to squirt tonight? Because you know this position is very nearly a– a guarantee –” he sighs, breath hitching when you tighten around him as he thumbs your clit.

“I mean, I’m not opposed ,” you laugh breathily, and writhe as Ezra seats himself as deep as he can. The tidy, coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickle your mound and provide just the right friction as he grinds deep, giving you every inch he has to offer.

“When our– handsome– knight returns. We should. Share him like this, gem. You, spread out like this for him, and me . Taking him from behind. He could feel us each, so deep .”

“Fuck. He’d -- lose it.”

Ezra chuckles and nods, pressing a kiss to your soft calf. He can’t hold his balance and your leg and thumb your clit all at once. You take over, swirling your fingers over yourself as he seats himself again and grinds deep.

“Wait for me, pretty boy,” you sigh, adjusting your hips, and he whines . “I’m almost there.”

“ Please gem, please come for me again. Milk my balls empty , let me fill this sweet pussy with every drop I have . I’ll keep it in there– long as you can stand it. Then– kevva – lick it out ,” he stammers between each thrust, sweat beading on his brow as you do exactly that, hitching your hips against him to feel every fat inch spreading you wide as you come on his length buried deep as it will go. He groans into your sternum, folding you in half as he stretches up for a kiss, feeling the gush of you around him leaking out.

“ Geeeeeem, please ! May I?” He begs, panting against your throat, eyes squeezed shut, and you nod breathlessly, tightening around him as hot jettisons of come fill your cunt. You’re becoming increasingly glad of your implant, with two male partners.

Before he softens, Ezra crowds you, almost desperate to sink into your very skin, dropping your leg to the side so he can spoon up tight behind and keep you stuffed with him. “Just a moment, please. It’s – never enough.”

“I know, baby. Stay close, with me.” you hold his arm as he wraps it tight around your ribs and buries his face into the back of your neck. You can feel his pulse in his cock inside you as he comes down, that almost- manic energy draining fast as his body adjusts to the onslaught of dopamine and serotonin. By the time he’s soft and slipping out of you, you're both very nearly asleep. The sudden chill on his damp skin stirs him back awake.

“Let me clean us up, gem,” Ezra drags your leg to the side, opening you back up as he slides around to settle between your thighs. You jump at the first swipe of his hot tongue, oversensitive and whining from it, but he softens his touch, sucking his come out of your cunt gently, lapping through your folds and over the plush swell of each inner thigh until the taste of himself is separated from yours.

He stumbles to his feet and hooks a foot in his smalls, dragging them back up and slipping out to the ‘fresher to clean himself. Ezra checks the kid, drinks down a dram of water, refills it and brings it to you, and curls back in bed with you.

“You said you didn't know any domestic skills,” you chuckle softly, tugging on his blonde patch. Ezra sighs and tucks his nose against your collarbone. “But I think you do just fine.”

“You have been attended to by a life in the military, and then by a hardened, faceless warrior for too long, as much of a sweetheart as he is. I think your expectations are what’s lacking, gem.”

You snort in answer, unable to refute the statement. Your thoughts turn to Din, hoping he is safe and the trip will be as simple as he had said. In the dark and quiet, with just the whoosh of sand beating the domed building (so similar to the rush of hyperspace) you can vaguely feel the swirling dreams of the kid in the next room, and Ezra’s constant, low thrum of anxiety despite his even breathing. You card your fingers through his hair until he drops off to sleep, and follow.

_______________

The landing and taking off at Cantonica are worse than the drop-off itself. The docks are overrun with personal vessels and yacht class ships; pirates and loan sharks pace the docks looking for easy targets, and Din wades through them, a plate of Carbonite hanging from his fist.

At least they afford him a wide berth when they see it. No one wants to mess with someone who's very look implies he can and will kill or freeze you as fast as make a deal with you.

He has to shed weapons at the door; a droid has him empty any blasters, vibroblades, explosives, ammo, and regular knives into a bin that is secured into a cubby for him. He’s given a chit and sent on his way, grumbling.

The loan shark that had given Ezra the front money for his mining attempt has a VIP booth along the back wall, full of scantily clad assorted- xeno females. The man himself is an overly-broad Muun called Kol. Din noticed very quickly that he lives up to the species standard- he is short-worded and precise.

Din generally appreciates it.

“Ezra May is dead, then?” Kol eyes the carbonite plate and frowns up at Din’s impassive visor.

“He is.”

“I instructed that a live delivery was preferred.”

“You did. He proved to not be amenable to that preference. I brought his arm as proof of destruction; the DNA matter will prove it belonged to Ezra May.” He hands the carbonite plate to a guard that approaches him. The same guard hands Din a coinpurse heavy with credits.

“I appreciate your services , Mandalorian.”

Din dips his head when the Muun waves him off, and departs. On the way back to his ship, he pauses to order a travel tray of food and makes his exit look unhurried and casual while he waits for it to be made, idly dropping a few credits into spin machines, watching a roulette game.

Eyes are on him.

_______________

You and Ezra are stacking and unstacking a pile of folded paper blocks for Grogu to alternately build and destroy as he sees fit when a resounding knock echoes in the tiny house. You glance at Ezra and get up.

“Storm must be cleared,” you sigh, tugging on your boots and going up to the entryway. When you open the door, a flood of sand flows down the landing grate just inside it. You stare down at it for a second then flick your eyes back up to Vanth, thumbs hooked on his knobby hips in the doorway.

“Storm’s over. Came to let y’all know. We’re repairing some condensators and moisture farmin’ pins on the east side if you’re handy.”

“I am. One minute.”

You go down and fetch your tool bag and a scarf to keep the sand from going down your clothes, and gloves. “If you two want to stretch your legs, the storm’s clear. Grogu might appreciate a jaunt with the town kids?”

Ezra makes an appreciative sound and gets up, tugging his own boots on and scooping up the kid. You go back up and join the Marshal, following him to a field of spindly metal towers seemingly growing out of the dunes at the edge of town like a metallurgical garden. Not called moisture farming for nothing , you think. Vanth quickly shows you how to spot damages that are common after storms and you get to work welding and re-shaping bent pins and flushing sand out of crevices with condensed air canisters.

After an hour or two, you take a break and spot Ezra sitting on a sandy porch in the shade of a domed house, animatedly reading a very worn book to a pile of rapt children. Grogu is in his lap, holding the tied-off cuff of his right sleeve and blinking almost directly up at him.

The Marshal sidles up next to you, hips-first and squinting, and hands you a waterskin. “Thanks,” you huff, and drink deeply.

“You sure are handy,” Vanth says, eyeing the work you’ve done. “What do you do ?”

“Mando picked me up as a mechanic. Used to be a Rebel sharpshooter, in the war.”

Vanth hums and nods at the spindles. “It's good work you’ve done. Nice to have capable hands around. What about him? No good?”

You huff a chuckle and shrug. “Ezra used to harvest on prospecting jobs. Now he just– talks .” You shoot Vanth a wry smile. “He’s still adjusting- it’s only been a couple weeks.”

Vanth nods and takes a drink. “‘Least he can have a choice in replacing it or not.” You frown at him and he shrugs his mod. “I just woke up with it. Didn't really have to get used to missing anything. But I can empathize somewhat. Damned thing did take weeks to reconnect to my nerves, so it was like having a dead or uncooperative limb a lot of that time.”

“Mando said it was a shootout? Or warfare?”

Vanth hums in the affirmative. “He came askin’ for help. I told him no. He left, and another bounty hun’er came through right after, told me to mind my own business and not dare to join the fight. I told him to leave off, and he shot me. Killed my deputy, too. My folks took me to the daimyo’s palace and went ‘n joined the firefight, and they won. And I woke up six weeks later with a new arm, and no Mando.”

You eye the man keenly while he talks, sussing out what drew Din to him before the Mandalorian left and found you. He’s tall, lanky. Mouthy. A shameless flirt; you’ve watched him sweet talk his own civilians all day, teasing and grinning at them with whose pretty, squinty, tawny eyes. He's handsome and smart, quick to suspicion and combativeness. But he’s nice , even begrudgingly. He's letting you shack up here despite very obviously still harboring some feelings for Din. Which means he’s at least a little bit jealous of you and Ezra.

“Thank you for letting us stay,” you settle on, and he blinks down at you in surprise. He tenses up like you crossed a line, speaking aloud about something he just does and shouldn't be given thanks for.

“Like I said, you’re handy. Get your boy outta the suns, he’s turnin’ more red than brown.” Vanth nods at Ezra who, even in the shade, is undeniably pink. You snort and shake your head.

“Yeah. I had guessed he’d brown up faster than Mando,” you snort, capping the waterskin and handing it back. “Guess I was wrong.” Vanth takes it slowly, his furrowed brow folding into curiosity.

“Din’s brown ? I only ever saw a hand, in the flesh, and in poor lighting. Is that common for Mandalorians? Fett is, too. But he sounds – different.”

You hum and shrug. “Din was a foundling, like Grogu. But Aq Vetinans are an Iberican people. They can tan next to an open window ,” you chuff. “They are generally on the range of bronze, and brown up well in the sun. Were , I should say. They were eradicated not long after we visited the moon festival when I was really small,” you shake your head. “But Boba Fett is a clone. His… ah, father ? Jango- he was a true Mandalorian. They’re all shapes and sizes now, like most populations of humans and humanoids anymore. I mean- Din’s kid is a foot tall and green, ” You grin at Vanth’s eyeroll and push off the wall to go fetch your bard, leaving the Marshal with the small, useless nugget of information.

Ezra has long since finished the book and is in the midst of telling a fairy tale to the circle of children. Grogu is still in his lap, peering up at him and clutching his empty sleeve. A couple of the kids gasp when he gets to the action and you stifle a fond giggle behind your fist. You haven't heard the story, so you sit on the ledge of the porch behind the ring of kids and listen.

It’s just past midday, so you let Grogu stay and play with the children after lunch and leave Ezra in the hut to cool down. He naps for a short while and inevitably gets restless, determined to join you. When he emerges, you are sitting on an upturned crate on the porch in the shade of a repurposed sand sail strung up like an awning over the doorway to your assigned hut. Grogu and two of the younger town kids are chasing a ball up and down the section of road and you’re repairing a speeder that had been brought over. The young owner had cautiously asked for help and, happy to have something to do, you’d obliged.

“What did that fine- assed Marshal want this morning? Probing you for salacious information on our mutual armored lover?”

You laugh and drop the spanner and search your bag for a smaller wrench. Ezra spots it on the far side of his boot and puts his foot on it, leaning over to accept a kiss as his finders’ fee before he lets you take it with an easy grin. “He was telling me how he lost his arm, actually.” You recant the story and watch Ezra’s face take it in from the corner of your eye. You don't miss the way he glances at his own pinned sleeve before frowning out at the dunes.

After a couple minutes, you clear your throat. “You know, we share the cut of most bounties. I don't imagine it will be any different with you along.”

“Meaning? What, I'm about to earn a third of my own bounty?”

You keep your eyes on your work. “ Meaning if you want it, that mod is yours, sweetheart. He trades in favors about as often as he does in credits. If he says he’s got enough favor with Fett to trade for a mod, and you want it…” You shrug and let the bait linger, and try not to fixate on your normally- garrulous partner’s almost- surly silence.

Ezra‘s pride is something that you’ve had to contend with a few times, when he lets himself get mired in the struggle of a task, or feeling useless as a part of the crew. It’s part of why you and Din have spent the last few weeks rebuilding his confidence in actions more than words.

Ezra has the words ; you two have the deeds .

“Hold this up while I weld it in?” You say more than ask, awkwardly pinning a replacement clip on the carburetor to hold it in place and priming your soldering knife. He does, and you press a kiss in thanks to his rough knuckles as he drops his hand.

A few moments later, Grogu tumbles over with his arms outstretched until he’s between Ezra’s boots, asking to be picked up. It’s leaning toward afternoon and past uncomfortably hot; he’s tired and pushing hungry at you. You chuckle and finish with the speeder, leaving it in a slip of shade by your hut, and lead the boys inside for your own late lunch and a much-needed drink.

Ezra opts to read a book on the bed after you get Grogu down for a nap, and you end up dozing off, curled into his side, wondering about Din.

_______________

Din is not having a great time.

Leaving you three on Tatooine means that his heart and half his mind are there , even when he’s kicking a grunt off the dock past the air barrier and into the abyss of space and throwing another over his shoulder down into a lower level.

He’d almost made it to the ship when he’d been tackled by three armored Klatoonians and three armed men, all grunts for a spice runner that thinks herself quite the criminal overlord. (In reality, she's barely worth the bounty the Core has on her head.)

Din is unfortunately familiar. He's picked up pucks on both her and her runners in the past. Including a fairly recent one on her very young daughter, though the child was simply handed back to her by the useless Core system. Core justice often doesn't amount to much.

Regardless, it seems like she has held a grudge.

A Klatoonian whacks Din over the head with a heavy piece of metal and it rattles his sensors, but he blasts them in the chest and shoots the last two men before hauling ass back to the Crest .

He’s shot at again before he gets there, the blaster bolt glancing off his pauldron and skimming the top of his shoulder by burning clean through his cowl. He growls and slices the last Klatoonian through the middle with the saber and dives into his ship, taking off before he even glances at the wound. He throws the ship into a hyperlane and toggles the course. The ache up his neck and down his arm is substantial, but he grits his teeth and changes his mind to set a course for Naboo instead of Tatooine.

Something isn't right .

Scanning the ship thoroughly and sending out his own pings reveals that there is a tracer on the Crest , something not his pinging out a signal and someone is very likely watching his progress from the other end. Probably Zeva . He finds the small device, buried under netting in a crate in the cargo hold, and drops it down the vacc tube and out into space. He goes over the ship again, the whole hold and storage and cab, before sighing out the breath he’s been holding tight in his chest for over an hour.

Somewhat satisfied, Din finally shucks the helmet and yanks off his gorget, cowl and left pauldron. The blaster bolt has seared the meat of his shoulder and neck, but it was a clean shot, not even deep enough for stitches. He balances a mirror on a shelf and cleans it, pours bacta over it with a wince, and lets it air dry as he chews through a tasteless ration bar.

He misses the kid. And you . And Ezra . Din wonders idly what you're up to before deciding that you’ve probably been either bored or fucking or watching Grogu or helping around town out of restlessness since he left.

(He’s not wrong)

With his shoulder dry and stomach not-empty (not full- and definitely not satisfied- he’d lost the box of food in the fight) he seals a bacta patch over the wound and re-dresses. He drinks some water, scoops up his helmet, and goes back up to the cockpit to nap. Something still feels off , so he won't stay in his bunk. The hold feels empty without his additional three anyway.

The cockpit is hardly better; he thinks about the last time you were all three in it. He’d had Ezra on his knees in front of his seat, sucking him, while you touched yourself in the passenger seat. He’d made a passing remark about keeping May down there, artfully bound, to suck him any time he piloted and Ezra had made a desperate sound so ragged and pleading he’d very nearly come on the spot.

The Crest makes quick time to Naboo with a quarter of its residents, and within two days he’s in Theed, watching the crowds mill around and through the docks from a seat in the shade at a cantina on the edge of the main market and seeing if anyone approaches his ship to attach another beacon.

When no one does, even after a full day, he buys some food and climbs back aboard. He scans the ship again, finding nothing. After a second thought, he puts down the food and goes back outside. He scans the hull and engine, the loose panel iisa can't seem to get to stay straight, and the rudders. Everything comes back clear. After a moment's hesitation, he turns on the infrared scanners in his HUD and picks up a tiny blip under one gunner arm.

The disc is smaller than his palm, and gives no outward appearance of being anything at all. His HUD scanner shows a significantly low but steady beacon emitting from it, not much different from a bounty puck. Din crushes it under his boot heel and kicks it into the lake. He searches the ship over twice more, inside and out with every setting on his HUD equipped before he is satisfied.

As he’s leaving Naboo’s atmosphere, he passes a yellow-striped spice runner flagship several knots off, coming in for a landing. They seem to spot him, and he dives into the cloudcover.

“ Dank farrik ,” Din curses under his breath, veering sharply upward. The zippy little runner ship turns in midair and chases him up into orbit. He leads it a little further out into open space before slamming on the brakes and shooting the runner out of the sky when they whip past him. The ship crushes inward from the vacuum of his shot breaking the air seal, and he flies past the firespout, slamming the Crest into hyperdrive.

_______________

You are jolted from a deep sleep without knowing the cause. Disoriented, you pause in the absolute dark of the room, listening for any sound that may have woken you. Ezra is snoring faintly, your head laid on his bicep, his forearm wrapped around your front.

It’s warm – enough that a film of sweat sticks your lower back to Ezra’s tiny, spare belly, but that heat doesn't seem like enough to have woken you.

After a beat, you hear a quiet grating sound from the other side of the wall and sit up.

“Gem?” Ezra croaks, voice claggy with sleep. You shush him and feel his frown against your palm where it's clapped gently over his mouth. His hand curls around your forearm and he listens.

The sonic is running in the ‘fresher.

Grogu is still soundly asleep when you mentally reach out, touching the soft colorful swirl of his dreams, and you back away, not wanting to wake him.

Finally you feel it; a bone-weary exhaustion and not much else. Din .

“Din’s back,” you whisper into the void, and the only sound is the sharp intake of your breath when the bedroom door abruptly slides open. Ezra sits up beside you, and your hand reaches out, sightless. Ungloved fingertips touch yours and you gasp. He must have his night vision on, showing him where to go. You’re underground, after all; there’s barely enough light coming from the ‘fresher to see his outline against the blackness.

“Hmmm. Iisa ,” Din greets, and steps closer, the door sliding shut behind him and plunging you into absolute darkness. He must have taken off most of his kit when he moved through the house, or in the ‘fresher. You don't feel any metal but his helmet as you surge up and wrap your arms around him for a hug. He snorts and cuffs Ezra on the chin, letting both of you peel off his open flight suit.

“Come here you ridiculous thing,” Ezra complains, and yanks on Din’s belt until the clasp gives and he pulls it off. Din sloughs his kit the rest of the way, down to his compression shorts, and crawls onto the low bed to stretch out between you both. He drops his helmet on the floor just above his pilfered pillow and drops to his back when you both immediately start pressing kisses to his face and mouth.

He snorts and hooks an arm behind each ofyour jecks, hauling you close. “Missed me?”

“And you accuse me of unnecessary chatter,” Ezra grouses, opening up easily when Din abruptly rolls and licks into him with a chuckle just as you say-

“What’s this ?” And tap his shoulder. The bacta patch is nearly dried up, flaking at the edges. Din sighs and pulls away from the man half-under him and turns back to his back. He scoops you both to his chest again.

“Nothing, really. Got shot on the way off Cantonica. Old bounty- a spice runner with a grudge, I think.”

“What?!” You both gasp, trying to keep your voices in check because of the Child.

Din sighs, unused to anyone caring about his wounds, let alone two- three once he faces Grogu in the morning. He had stopped by the pram and traced the kid’s loose claw on his blanket before scrubbing down with a damp rag and partially redressing in the ‘fresher. His gut twists at the mental image of the faces you're both probably making, and the little green one he’ll see through his visor come daylight.

“I got them. And found a tracker on my ship. And found another when I stopped to end their trailing me on Naboo. And shot their ship out of the sky when they tried to follow.”

“ Kevva, man . Anything else to report? You’re certain it wasn't the folks after my disreputable self?”

“No, and no . I wanted to make sure they weren't going to follow me here. Like I said, pretty sure it’s the Kijimi Spice Runners; Zeva Bliss and her goons. She holds a hell of a grudge, apparently.”

“But no one followed you here?”

Din shook his head and yawned hugely. “No. Made sure of it. Didn't want trouble near you guys. And Vanth would have my head if I led anything here.”

You hum and change the subject. “It’s like 2 in the morning. Have you eaten?”

“Yes. Ate a ration bar on the way here. Wanna sleep, iisa .” You hear Ezra huff a laugh at the Mandalorian’s slurring words as he starts to drift off between you.

Ezra urges Din onto his side, facing you, and wraps himself up behind, pressing a kiss to his nape and breathing in the rich scent of his hair there, sorely missed. You burrow under Din’s chin and let him tip your face up for a sleepy kiss before he finally nods off. Over his ribs, Ezra’s hand finds yours, and you hold Din tightly between you, legs tangled. It’s over-warm and you kind of have to pee, but you’re not getting up for anything .

_______________

Din groans an exhausted, wordless complaint when the low beeping of his helmet on the floor indicates an incoming transmission.

Fett , some sun-baked lizard part of his brain helpfully supplies before he’s swaddled again under the blanket of sleep, pressed between his partners’ bodies in the galaxy’s sweatiest, sleepiest sandwich.

He stirs again maybe an hour later from someone shifting on the bed. He’s spooned up behind you now, your breasts mashed against his forearm and your smaller hand on his over your waist. Ezra is curved tightly behind him, their hips nested and a knee wedged between Din’s. It’s still black as deep space in the underground house. The only noise is the condensator whirring in the next room. He’s wide awake for no reason; neither of you two are. Grogu can still be heard, faintly snoring. Din figures can't have been asleep more than a few hours.

The shifting is you wriggling in front of him because Din’s cock is hard as a pike and sandwiched up the crease of your lush cheeks. He scoots backward, trying to unstick your skin and give you some space only to back directly into Ezra. Ezra’s limp fingers tickle his belly and Din jolts from both stimuli, stirring you both awake.

Fuck .

“Hmm?” You question, half-rolling as if you could see anything happening behind you. Ezra’s arm tightens like a band across Din’s ribs on a stretch-and-yawn. His hand slides lower, his knuckles bumping along your lower back and into the throbbing need between Din’s thighs with a sleepy huff of amusement. Din feels Ezra’s own interest perk up, pressed against him as the man is.

“I do believe our man has rested enough to be eager to re-stake his claim, gem. What say you, handsome?”

“Hmmm. Paklalat . Quietly, though.” Ezra huffs a laugh into the soft skin at the edge of Din’s hair at the Mando’a nickname that’s been surfacing more often lately, and bites his ear.

“If you want quiet that means my mouth is goin’ somewhere ,” Ezra murmurs quietly against his throat. Din feels both your faces stretch into grins against his skin and smiles, too. “How do you want us?”

Din is quiet for a moment, combing his fingers in your hair where you're laid on his shoulder, and indulging in Ezra’s mouth on his neck and collarbones on the other side.

“Lazy,” he finally says. “Like this.”

In response, Ezra cups him through the shorts and kisses him soundly. “How about I suck you off while you prep our beautiful gem for your fat cock?” Ezra asks directly into Din’s mouth, goading out a low, plaintive growl along with a smear of lips and teeth. They battle languidly for a moment, all tight fingers in hair and teeth buried in lips before Din submits to your hands pulling him back and flops bonelessly to the bed.

“A wise man, bowing to the whims of his partner. It seems ours gets their way more often than not, no?” Ezra teases you, shimmying south with little nips and licks along Din’s exhausted body. He sucks speculatively at a firming peak of nipple while you work your tongue into Din’s mouth, coaxing out needy little noises.

“You’re gonna be a good boy for us, Din. Right? Let us welcome you back properly?” you ask, grinning like you won something when he nods a little breathlessly.

Din whines when you drop a kiss on his mouth and move away; he’s so tired and aroused and feels like his skeleton has turned to jelly. He palms uselessly at Ezra’s head, trying to coerce him into moving further south, but the man stubbornly resists, pausing to lap his tongue over each hollow of his hips. A sharp, reprimanding nip to his fingertip when he tries to tug Ezra by the hair over to his cock makes Din laugh weakly into your mouth, and next thing he knows, your fingers are coiling into his own hair, your body moving over him until you’re kneeling over his face.

“ Iisa ,” he sighs, licking a broad tongue over your dampening folds until you grind down seeking more. He grins against you, plunging his tongue deep into your opening as you properly sit. Just as he drags his tongue up again to swirl over your throbbing clit, Ezra finally takes him in his mouth, making his stomach clench.

Ezra sucks him expertly, soaking his cock and nursing it to firm and throbbing while making it clear that orgasm isn't the endgame. Not yet, anyway. Din revels in the indulgence of it, simply taking what Ezra gives and doling it out for you, above him. Din stiffens his tongue, swallowing your juice as you ride it, rubbing your clit on his nose with a whine.

You’re dripping , so close , and you can't choke back the ragged gasp that escapes your throat when he seals his mouth over your seam and you finally come on his face with a shiver. You cage the sound behind your teeth, trying to be quiet because of the kid, and lift off his face only to bend in half and draw Din into a plundering kiss.

“Please, iisa , want you–” He leaves his arms out to each side, taking what you give and asking for more with the tip of his chin, the hot swipe of his tongue until you reach down and tug Ezra off his cock by the hair.

The prospector goes easily, biting over the relative softness of a relaxed thigh next to him before pushing up to his knees. “Come here, gem. Ride this pretty cock I have soaked just for you. Bring our sweet man to completion,” he says, dragging one-handedly at your hips until you're straddling Din’s waist, your ass nested into Ezra’s hips as he guides you down.

Ever one to obey, Din remains flat on his back, arms flopped out to his sides and hands in loose fists as you sit slowly on his length, taking him whole until your clit grinds into the tidy, coarse curls at his base. He chokes on a groan, helpless to both your hands, while you settle around him. The stretch of your pussy is soft and tight, a silk glove around him driving him nearly insane. Ezra traces where you are joined, making you shudder, and chuckles darkly.

“Our gem’s pussy is the sweetest in the galaxy, isn’t it, handsome?” He asks, that drawl spooling out thicker with desire, tugging Din’s balls down where they’ve crawled up already. He huffs a laugh when you both groan appreciatively.

Din moves an arm, curling his fingers behind a scarred knee and tugging. “Come here, paklalat ,” he demands, and Ezra crawls forward, expecting to be dragged into a kiss. He is, but after a moment of panting hotly into his mouth, Mando shoves at him, grappling with Ezra's hips and knees until the man is now straddling Din’s face like you were moments ago.

“Oh!” Ezra strangles a cry, pitching forward to grab at the top of the bed for balance as Din licks a firm strip from crack to tip and then plants his broad hands on Ezra’s ass and shoves the other man’s cock down his throat.

Unseeing, you trail your hands up Din’s belly and chest, feeling out where he’s dragged Ezra to, and groan when you realize the other man has taken your place on Mando's chest. You clench around him, grinding hard into his pubes. It makes Din’s answering moan vibrate around the hard length in his mouth, which has the effect of Ezra panting a whine above him.

“ Handsome man,” Ezra pants, rutting shallowly. “You gorgeous thing- oh! If- If you continue in that avenue, I - I won't last another minute!” he yelps when Din wriggles a finger between his cheeks, letting the pad of his thumb sit against Ezra’s sensitive hole for him to push against when he pulls out of Din’s mouth.

Din tongues up the rib on the underside of Ezra's cock and nurses the swollen head, wriggling his tongue into the tight cup of foreskin over his frenulum, and Ezra is gone . He comes so abruptly on Din’s tongue he spirals into a coughing fit.

Breathing raggedly, Din lets Ezra tip to his side to shudder through the aftershocks while he ruts up sharply into you, driving you both quickly toward an explosive end. Your core is clutching him, hot and wet and perfect . The sounds he and Ezra had made had your fantasies swirling behind your closed eyes, propelling you to the edge. Din swirls his thumb over your clit, gritting his teeth against the salt on his tongue and the sounds you're making, bouncing on his dick. Finally, you clench around him and come with a thin wail, swallowed when you pitch forward and kiss him. Din comes harder than he expects, his whole body seizing up under you as he paints your cervix and walls with ropes of come.

“Oh, kriff ,” you sigh, collapsing on his chest. Din hums, a deep rumble behind his sternum, and nearly drifts off again before he jolts at the damp drag of a cloth over his thighs, groin, and face.

“Stickiness banished, then sleep, handsome,” Ezra drawls, sounding just as taxed. He feels the other man push at you and then wipe you down, but you’re already snoring faintly again, mostly draped over Din’s torso. He trails fingertips down your thigh where it's wedged between his own, and feels Ezra drop down on your other side to spoon up behind.

“You can call me Din,” he tells Ezra quietly, curling his fingers into the other man’s scruffy beard and tugging. He stares into the dark over your crown and feels the frisson in the air as the prospector stills.

“Din. It’s nice to meet you,” Din can hear the sideways grin lifting his sleepy voice and his own mouth twitches upward. “I had assumed that since you call neither of us by our names, you preferred your own said in confidence and between close acquaintances only. And without express permission, I did not want to cross that proverbial line in the sand.”

“I’m giving it to you. And calling you a chatterbox is more fitting.”

Ezra huffs a laugh and tips his face into the soft palm pawing at the side of his head before following you both back into sleep.

_______________

Come when convenient blinks the comm that Din had received in the wee hours of the morning. He stares at the green text ticking across the display of his HUD, simultaneously watching you and Grogu silently communicate and make a terrible mess that you're (endearingly) calling breakfast .

He and Ezra sit on the little sofa with the long line of their thighs pressed together, watching, wincing every now and then as another tool clatters into the sink or a soft worrt egg splats on the floor. Admittedly, if Grogu hadn't wanted to help so badly you’d already be done. But indulgence is the name of the game with little ones, so you’d obliged. You’ve gone through at least two splatted worrt eggs that had been force-dropped before you told him he had to use his hands. Then he had squished one by digging his claws in at the wrong time.

Abandoning the cooking eggs, you bring the men each a cup of caff and go back to the kid. Ezra politely turns away so Din can tip his helmet up enough to knock back the rich drink.

“My Mandalorian friend in Mos Espa says to come meet his mod artist. If you want. I want to make it clear that it’s your decision,” Din says quietly, dropping his hand on Ezra's thigh where it’s pressed along his own. “ Iisa and I like you either way, you know.”

Ezra blinks at the wall, thinking. “I am struggling to outweigh my pride and my desire for a replacement with the knowledge that I probably deserved this loss,” he finally says, a muscle rolling in his jaw when you stop and turn back to gape at him. “For character growth, if not a heavy-handed lesson in humility.”

“Ezra-”

“ Gem , you do not know the things I've done that had led to this man here coming after me. For the bounties on my head, both here and the galaxy where I come from. Or the men I've left behind on digs and the things I have stolen, including lives. Some of them assuredly deserved it, but some did not. And the revenge I have sought did not cause me grief. But it certainly caused someone grief, somewhere. Getting Cee off that moon and to safety was the first good thing I have done in a very long time. You understand?”

You stare at him for a long moment, dodging a wet smear of egg across your foot as the kid continues to play in the mess on the floor, unbothered. “Would you think the same of me? You don’t know the things I did in warfare. Or Din? He’s done some truly nasty shit to keep Grogu and himself safe.”

Ezra blinks at you both and hangs his head. “No, I could not think ill of either of you.”

“Sweetheart. You didn't deserve to lose your dominant arm. It just happened . And it can be reversed if you choose it. But like Din said, we like you just fine this way, too.” You come sit on his knee while the eggs cook on the little single cooker and push his sweaty curls back off his forehead. Din leans over and bumps the other man with his shoulder, seconding the remark.

“Okay,” Ezra says after a while. He turns to Din and lets out a shaky breath. “I will see them.”

Din comms Fett to say you’re all coming and leaves the hut ahead of you and Ezra to go talk to the Marshal.

You strip the bed and soft furnishings while Ezra packs away the clothes and supplies you had brought. He’s standing by the door with Din’s pillow poking out of the pram floating by his hip and looking desperately adorable, his unruly hair fuzzed up on one side and a fond look on his face while he watches you scrub at a dried smear of worrt egg. You feel the snarl of anxiety coming from him snag in your mind and it makes you look up.

“What?” You tease, faking a scowl. He just chuckles.

“I am trying to set aside my anxiety, gem. And looking upon your visage helps.”

“I already sucked your dick today,” you point an accusing finger at him playfully, throwing the cleaning rag in the sink. When you turn back Ezra still looks just as soft and rumpled, his smile still there.

“I just mean that I am happy to be here with you and him. Even anxious.”

“Well that's good to hear, sweet thing. I’m happy you're here, too. Even anxious. I know he is, too,” you wink and tap your temple.

You finish cleaning the kitchen area and abandon the rest of the dusty little house. A little over a week of you three living in it hadn't bothered much except the bed and worktop, anyway.

“Let’s go save our man from his ex,” you chuff, shouldering the last bag of supplies. Ezra smirks and follows you up into the sun, and you notice in the bright outdoor light - he’s browning up just like Mando.

_______________

Don’t mention May’s face, Din comms ahead to Fett and sets the flight chart for Mos Espa. You and the other man are talking quietly in the passenger seats behind him; Grogu is in his lap excitedly mouthing the silver gearshift ball. He really hopes Fett doesn't manage to slip anything about the similarities between himself and May; not only that it would exacerbate the awkwardness Din already feels about finding May attractive, but because then they’d know.

Frankly, he feels weird about Fett knowing .

Nothing to be done for it; though. Someone knowing that they look alike doesn't necessarily implicate Din , or make his Creed any less sacred.

“What do you think, Din?”

“Hmm?” He snaps out of his thoughts and turns away from the controls. You’re staring at him with an eyebrow winged up, the smirk on your face says you knew he wasn't paying attention.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

“Oh. Depends on the mod artist, and what pak wants done. It might be a few days. If I get dragged into being a bodyguard or intimidation tool again, maybe a week. But we can turn him down if you want to keep moving.” He shrugs and accepts the ball when the child hands it back to him, wanting to play force-catch.

He tosses the ball and watches Grogu throw his hands up to catch it, tossing it across to you and Ezra in a circle before bringing it back to himself. You listen to Ezra tell Din about getting to call Cee, how he misses her, but how the kid helps.

How you managed to find two fatherly men in the entire galaxy riddled with playboys is beyond you. Especially when you don't really want kids, but love the one you sort- of have.

Within the hour you’re landing at the daimyo palace. Outside on a landing strip is a woman with a long dark braid and all black clothes. “Fennec,” Din greets as he plods down the ramp, flanked by you and Ezra.

“Welcome, Mando. We have a lunch spread if you’re hungry.” She flicks her eyes over all three of you before settling her gaze on Ezra with a curious, lifted eyebrow. She traces over his stump and turns, disappearing inside a darkened doorway.

It’s blessedly cool inside and you sigh in relief when the suns aren't baking the back of your neck any longer. Din leads you confidently through the palace to an informal dining space where a long table has been spread with finger foods and dips and breads and smears. You goggle a bit at the sight and glance over at Ezra who is also taken aback.

“ Who in seven hells are we here to see?” He murmurs to you, leaning in close.

You snicker into your hand and whisper back: “Boba Fett- he took over as the daimyo of Mos Espa when the Hutts fell. Former slavers,” you supply when he frowns. “Fett used to work for them as their beroya but they betrayed him, and when they were killed, it left a power vacuum. He filled it, and protects the city.”

“Ah.”

“Eat up!” A booming voice echoes in the hall and you all turn to see Fett striding down the walkway opposite, joining you. Behind him are a few faces Din recognizes. He tenses all over, waiting on Fett to slip up. He doesn't know if the other Mandalorian got his comm in time.

“I thought you re-took your – ?” Fett pauses, frowning, at Ezra and then, mid- sentence, notices Din at the far corner of the table, shaking his head minutely. Boba straightens and goes to that end, simply changing his sentence entirely to one of greeting.

The older Mandalorian goes to a seat at one end of the table and looks over you all, pausing on Ezra a little longer but then sliding his gaze down his arm as if that's the cause. You pick up on the intentional deflection, though, and narrow your eyes.

Boba flicks his eyes over to Din and raises a sardonic brow as if to say quite the resemblance and then moves on. “I have instructed the mod artist to join us in one hour. Eat up- drink . Catch me up on your activities, Din.”

Din lets out the heavy breath he’d been holding, and relaxes despite the partial slip. He hopes that you aren't suspicious- Ezra shouldn't have caught the slip. He talks and watches you two eat, handing Grogu rolls of cured meat until he gives up with the snack sized bites and piles the kid up a full plate. He asks about the various firefights and skirmishes Boba has had to maintain his level of control. He talks, mainly about visiting Mandalore and then about bounties, ending with the most recent one regarding Ezra.

Fett’s eyes settle on Ezra, who is now holding Grogu and eating a sandberry the kid has mushed into the corner of his mouth with exaggerated satisfaction. “ Delicious , my friend. You should try some,” he says, and Grogu gurgles in delight, shoving four in his own mouth.

You and Din both shake your head fondly at the two of them, which does not go unnoticed by Boba and Fennec.

“So you three are… a unit?” Fennec asks bluntly, directed at you. You blink and sit forward, meeting her unflinching stare.

“Ah, yes. In that the three of us operate as both work and intimate partners. Raising the kid and running jobs with Mando.” You can feel your face flushing and will it away.

“Our partnership came about from what some could call unfortunate circumstances, which we managed to turn into a rather nice narrative, in my opinion,” Ezra pipes up, wincing when another berry is ground into his beard. “Thank you, kid.”

“It works,” Din says flatly, and the matter is dropped.

The group is interrupted by Krrsantan roaring from the hallway. Boba sighs and stands, waving to the table. “The artist is ready, if you are?”

You and Din turn to Ezra, who freezes and looks a little green, but nods and stands. He passes the child off to you and wipes the berry from his face, and follows Din and Fett out the door. You and Fennec bring up the rear.

The mod artist is in the same sunroom where Din saw Cobb Vanth floating in a bacta tank. He stares at the tank for a long minute before tuning into what is being discussed.

“I would prefer a- a detachable option, if possible.” Ezra says, shirtless and holding still while the artist measures him and begins a blueprint sketch.

“I can craft a permanent mount and a detachable arm. How is your lung capacity? My scan shows a healed perforation in your diaphragm?”

“I was run through with a blade. And I do cough if I'm breathing hard or heavy,” Ezra glances at you and Din and you both nod in reassurance.

“If it is not a problem, we can look at it another time. Do you want a skin on the hand?” The artist lofts an elegant eyebrow and Ezra blinks at them, unsure.

“ Pak , do you want the hand to feel like skin or be uncovered metal?” Din clarifies, and you wink at him, loosening the ball of anxiety in his chest by making him think of the possibilities with a chuckle.

“Ah- skin is... good.”

“Alright. I can craft this over the next few days and graft it in. I’ll do the mount tomorrow, a fitting in two days, and then the rest of it can be cybernetically linked once I graft the sensors together. We’ll test the neuron receptors before you go, of course. And skin it.” they press a scanner to Ezra’s shoulder to get a skin tone match and step back. “I’ll begin immediately.”

So dismissed, you three find yourselves at loose ends over what to do with your free time. Boba shows you to a large room with a wide bed and its own ‘fresher. He tells Din about the new shooting and sparring range he and Fennec have dug out in the back allotment, and leaves.

Din and Ezra rove around the room like caged animals, sniffing out the corners while you watch, fondly rolling your eyes at them.

“ Kevva above is that a fuckin’ bathtub ?!” You hear echo out of the ‘fresher and laugh aloud. “Did we not just spend over a week in a desert town an hour from here where they farm moisture from the atmosphere just to live , and yet there's a bathtub that could easily fit all three of us in this room?” Ezra pokes his head back out of the doorway, a disgusted look on his face, and you and Din both have to chuckle at it.

“The palace will have recycling tanks. It’s not fresh water, just clean ,” you clarify. Grogu yawns and babbles at you, pushing naptime into your thoughts. You huff a laugh at him and nod.

“Finally tired, little man? Let’s find a nice place to nap,” you say, and drift back toward the big bed.

Din watches the sands outside from his lean by the window, ever the silent observer, and shifts his weight under your keen eye. Ezra can be heard opening and closing bottles to sniff and making low noises of interest or disgust from the ‘fresher, and you can’t help but smile at the quiet domesticity of the moment.

“Din,” you whisper, and he turns to you, helmet tipped curiously. You nod at the open ‘fresher door, which makes Din glance over at it. When he looks back at you, you make a crude Tusken hand signal and raise both eyebrows. He snorts, nods, and disappears behind the door, sliding it closed.

You settle in with the kid splayed on your chest, already snoring, and listen.

_______________

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ezra nearly gasps, molding back against Din’s chest when the other man pulls on his hips.

“ Iisa told me to come in here and fuck you, paklalat ,” Din says, pressing his helmeted earpiece carefully into Ezra’s temple. “You must be stressed, if iisa is feeling it enough to offer a solution.”

Ezra hums and nods. “I must admit to it, under such keen observation. Our gem does know how to assist in the most tantalizing and effective ways.”

“Can I blindfold you? So I can use my mouth?” Din asks, cupping Ezra’s plumping cock through his trousers until he earns a weak kick of hips.

“Of course,” Ezra says, strangled. He’s only had the pleasure once so far, and is keen to have it again. He peels off his sweaty tunic and trousers, boots and socks and belt, and piles it neatly. Din sheds his armor into a neat stack and zips off his flight suit. They come back together in their smalls. Din doesn't hesitate at all before tying a strip of cloth around Ezra’s eyes. A thunk of metal echoes in the sandstone room and then he’s being kissed, soundly.

Their bellies meet, Ezra's softening leanness pressed all against Din’s firmed muscle. A strong arm is braced behind Ezra’s back on the wall, holding him close. When he groans softly at the warmth, all the skin contact, Din licks into his mouth, opening him wider for a plundering kiss. With each swipe of hot tongue, those anxieties under Ezra’s skin are pushed away for another time. A hand cards up into his hair, gripping hard and angling his head to get deeper still. Ezra whines into the hold, bringing his own hand up to wrap around Din’s jaw and pull him closer. Mando’s other hand drops to his ass and squeezes, eliciting a low, heady sound that makes Din smile against his mouth, quick and deadly.

He trails a hand down Ezra’s arm and guides his hand up until it latches over the edge of the shower door for balance, not wanting to leave the man unmoored once Din lets go. “ Stay .” Din turns the tub faucet on and begins the slow process of filling the large bathtub before guiding Ezra into the shower stall and kicking it on for a thorough wash- down of them both. Ezra sucks his own lower lip into his mouth, tonguing the swelling flesh, and waits, allows himself to be manhandled. He loves it, after all, and trusts Din.

Under the warm spray, Din trails his demanding fingertips all over, wanting to touch and grip as much as he can stand while completely bare. The urge to nuzzle his face into skin now is just as overwhelming as it was when they had been spiced. Ezra drops his head back and lets him burrow into his throat- just as touch-starved and more prone to cuddling than any of the three of you. He arches into every press and hold as Din kisses him hard against the wall, pinning him chest-to-chest. Their stiff cocks are sandwiched up between their bellies, sliding wet and drooling already as they rut, slow and firm, languid. Din has a handful of the skin over Ezra’s ribs squeezed in one fist, stealing his breath. Ezra clasps his hand over Din’s ass, greedy for it, and bites the man’s lip when they separate next, earning a chuff of a laugh.

“ Paklalat ,” Din chastises with a playful growl in his throat, squeezing his handfuls of Ezra’s narrow ass as Ezra tries to reel him back in with fingers tangled in his damp curls.

He pulls away only enough to drag his lips down over scruffy chin to throat, nipping the point of the other man’s jaw just under his ear to make him gasp. His other hand skims up to tighten in Ezra’s hair, holding him quite still to speak low, directly into his ear.

“I’m going to suck you and open you up on my fingers, pak. Then I will fuck you hard against this wall until you jet all over it. I will wash us, and sit with you in that bath until it goes cold. And then we will join iisa and Grogu for a nap. Yes ?” He asks, assertive but still patiently seeking permission. His fist tightens again in Ezra’s hair and the man’s jaw slackens on a gasp- if the blindfold wasn't in the way, he knows those deep, dark eyes would be rolling back.

Despite Ezra’s preference for the manhandling, they each find pleasure in doing what he’s told - holding off on his own gratification until you're both sated. Ezra likes to do the work and earn a heavy payout. Din, however, prefers to simply do . He’ll earn his gratification in doses along the way. At your hands, they're both as malleable as clay. Under Din’s touch, Ezra is more prone to bare his teeth, press up against the boundaries and accept it when he’s grappled back into line. He hasn't had the pleasure of topping Din yet, and Ezra can't help but wonder idly if the Mandalorian will put up a fight or finally lay back and enjoy himself.

“Din,” Ezra growls, gripping at his hip one-handed, “ yes .” His head knocks back into the tile with carefully measured pressure when Din captures his mouth again in a rough kiss. He doesn't ask for entry so much as knock Ezra’s mouth open and plunder it.

His hand hooks behind Din’s head, fingers tight in his curls. Din’s teeth scrape over his lower lip before the Mandalorian drops hard to his knees and drags Ezra’s left thigh forward. He drapes that knee over his shoulder, opening the man up, getting his fingers slick with his own thick spit and reaching for the neutral hair oil on the shower bench for later.

“I’m half afraid that when you get your mouth on me, I won’t la- oh !” Ezra bucks forward a little, trying to reign in the impulse as Din licks a wet strip up the underside, nursing the tender head of him while his wet fingers rub carefully from behind. The gentle stimulation, igniting a deep need, leads to a thumb pressed to his hole, Din’s throat squeezing around the head of his cock, and Ezra pants at the ceiling, unseeing. Din may be inexpert and slow with his mouth, but learning how to unravel you and Ezra both has become a new fascination.

“Then we take the edge off, and start again,” Din says simply, sucking him back deep, into his throat. When Mando sinks two fingers in and retreats to suck lightly, teasingly on his cockhead, Ezra strangles on a desperate sound in his throat and drops a hand to Din’s head, carding through his hair and then fisting in it. “Be patient,” he admonishes, resisting the yank of his curls. “I know you can come twice with a cock in your greedy little ass.”

Ezra growls in his throat but the sound splinters apart when Din takes him deep again. “Oh, you gorgeous thing. What I wouldn't give to see – what you’re doin’ to me. But I know I can’t , it’s okay- no –” he corrects, keeping Din’s mouth around him with the hand in his hair when the other man makes to pull away. “I would never ask, you understand? Some things are sacred- our own . That I can have your mouth at all is – a blessing, Din. One more– oh !” he gasps when Din adds a third finger and spreads them, scissoring carefully, the oil slicking the way. He curls his fingers and rubs over that swelling gland inside and Ezra keens, his head dropping hard into the wall. He wants to come- needs to, so badly, but Din backs away at the last second.

“Ready?” Din asks, pulling further away when Ezra tries to grapple with him, drag him back. He grins when he ducks back and laps playfully at the purpling head of Ezra’s cock, fisting his own with a fresh smear of oil, and it jumps on his tongue.

“ Kevva , you– yes , man!”

Ezra drops his leg and starts to turn but Din stops him, instead lifting the thigh that had been on his shoulder, stretching him wider just a bit to hook that knee over his elbow. Ezra leans to the side slightly and reaches for the embedded wall shelf for stability, appreciative when Din guides his hand to hook on it, and lifts him entirely off his feet.

“Oh, fuck. Do you have to be– so damn masculine?” Ezra huffs a laugh and drops his head back, baring his throat, which Din noses up and then bites just as he notches his cockhead at the other man’s entrance and pushes upward. The sound that punches out of Ezra’s chest when he is fully seated sits under his skin, fizzling there for a lingering moment while he feels Ezra clench and shudder around his girth, slowly relaxing, and then pushing back.

Ezra can't seem to decide where to keep his hand, which is roving over Din’s shoulders and chest, and back to the wall, before coming between them to fist his own cock. Din can’t grab his wrist with both arms supporting Ezra’s weight, so he ducks his head and bites the firm rise of his pectoral harshly.

“I’m going to breed this ass,” he grits, thrusting up harder, deeper. “And you will come on my cock, or not at all,” he growls low into Ezra’s ear and feels the corresponding clench of Ezra’s entire torso as the man very nearly comes on the spot. It’s not quite enough though; he can taste the release on the back of his tongue, tingling in his lower spine, but staved off. Ezra’s hand loosens from himself and comes up to clutch around Din’s neck. The Mandalorian thrusts up hard, as a treat.

“ Fffffuck ,” Ezra chokes. “I can’t– agh !--like this . Turn me over, and I will,” he begs, and so Din does. He drops Ezra’s legs one at a time and pushes him around, pressing his chest into the tile and yanking his hips back. When he plunges his cock back inside, Ezra’s knees nearly buckle. Ezra keens, bracing his arm on the wall to stave off the strong temptation to stroke himself, and tips his hips back against Din’s punishing pace, finding the right angle.

After, when Ezra has come so hard he’s jelly-legged, utterly fucked out, he slouches boneless against the wall with Din’s seed dripping down his quaking thighs. Din scrubs him down and washes his hair, presses kisses to the bruises and the curved teeth marks he’s peppered all over that sun-pinkened, golden flesh. Once they are both clean, he leads Ezra to the bath and guides each foot into the deep tub.

Ezra shakes his head and straightens out of Din’s hands. “I’m too damned tired, gorgeous. I’ll drown. Just put me to bed.”

Din ignores him and guides him down, sinking into the bubbles behind him. “I won’t let you drown. We need to soak, rehydrate. Relax ,” he keeps his hands on the other man, guiding him back.

The end of Ezra's stump is well- healed thanks to diligent cleaning and bacta application on your part; it had sped up his recovery significantly in conjunction with the cauterization. Din hushes a gentle thumb over it now, eyeing the pink weals of scar tissue spidering up from the end cap from the attempts the former prospector (and his girl, Cee) had made to remove the infection before Din found him.

“Won't see that after tomorrow,” Ezra murmurs, flexing his shoulder with a shudder when the too-soft touch begins to tickle. It’s covered in bubbles, which tingle as they pop over the surface of his skin, and he dips it back under the waterline.

“Scars are sacred in my culture,” Din replies, smiling against the curve of Ezra’s neck. He presses a kiss there and relaxes, dragging Ezra with him to lay back against his chest. After a moment, he pulls back Ezra’s hand to place it on a thick scar on his left bicep. “I got this the day I got the kid. A mudhorn very nearly trampled me to death. It would have absolutely killed me if Grogu hadn't been there. I was taking him back as a bounty, and Jawas had stripped my ship, so I was fighting the mudhorn for them, to trade my parts back. He tried to heal me, but I didn't know what he wanted, so I used a soldering burner to seal it.”

“A burner ?” Ezra wonders, tracing the scar.

“I didn't have the saber I used on you, at the time. And this- I got after I gave Grogu to the Jedi,” he pushes Ezra's hand down to his outer thigh, the heavy shield of burned scarring there, normally protected by his thigh guards. “I got that from the saber. I didn't know how to wield it, and burned myself trying.”

Ezra makes a questioning sound, feeling out the skin, and turns to lay on his belly, tucking his covered face under Din’s jawline. He loops his arm around the Mandalorian’s lower back, anchoring himself from floating away. “And what about this one?” He asks, tracing a long, thin slice over what would be Din’s kidney.

Din hums and headbutts Ezra’s whitened temple with his chin. “One of my first bounties. I wasn't particularly fast, or smart yet. He got the drop on me, and I didn't have the beskar then. His vibroblade went right through my flight suit. Dragged him back dead and got a shitty payout, which barely covered fuel and the dressings I needed for the injury.”

“ Kevva’s sake, man. And then you hired on iisa , and our gem takes care of you now,” he hums, his spine and limbs softening to the point of being practically limp in the warm water. Din is sure he’ll be asleep within a few minutes.

“Don’t fall asleep in the water; we’ll freeze our dicks off, and then iisa really will have little use for us. Come on, ” he teases and urges, snorting at Ezra’s sleepy complaint. “We can cuddle all together in bed if we go. You can even be in the middle,” he lays a trap, and grins when Ezra immediately takes the bait.

_______________

Dawn is shining bright in the sunroom. You are nursing a cup of caff, your other hand occupied by holding Ezra's on his thigh. The mod artist is making quick work of building and attaching the mod mount to Ezra’s stump, effortlessly weaving nerve fibers in with those of the cybernetics.

With new ears to fill with stories and anxiety stealing any inhibitions he might have, Ezra is talking a mile a minute. He tells the mod artist about channel rats, about Cee. About his former trawling group and going it on his own after his crew marooned him and one mute partner on a desolate planet. Making the decision to take his tiny ship, alone, through the void of the Unknown Regions, running afoul of pirates in the Outer Rim, and of losing said ship to said pirates who dropped him on a Rim planet and left him with the clothes on his back and naught else. Of losing his arm and meeting you and Mando and the kid. He talks and talks, enough that Din and Boba have long since wandered off to find something to do just for some quiet.

You stay, though, and hold his hand and give him little smiles when he has to look away from the tools being used on him, things he can’t feel going into his flesh aside from pressure and an occasional juddering vibration across his whole skeleton from grinding or screwing. When that happens he turns his face to you, jaw and hand clenched, and smothers his noises.

If the mod artist is even listening, they do a valiant impression of interest while working diligently. Within a couple hours, the mount is seated and Ezra is released for a prescribed “hefty” lunch. Their advice is that once the anesthesia wears off, a few hours in the bacta tank might be the best idea to close up any lingering wounds or banish site pain.

The mount is woven into his nerves and seated on the remaining bone, ending in a metal cap that will act as the nerve conduit for the arm once it’s attached. The arm itself is still a strategic pile of wires and plates on the worktop. You eye it keenly, curious of the makeup so that down the road, if something happens, you can help put it to rights.

You then stare blankly into space and think about thinking about down the road, of having Ezra long enough for an eventuality like routine maintenance and the trust he would hopefully have in you to fix it for him.

Ezra notices your silence and squeezes your thigh. You blink, coming back to find the plate in front of you loaded with goodies and Mando and Fett conversing in Mando'a across the table. You catch a few root words and zone them back out; if Din wanted an audience, he’d speak basic. But he also knows you know quite a lot of Mando'a, so it can’t be too secretive or he’d have stepped outside.

“Sorry, got lost in thought for a second,” you say, and start nibbling.

“Can you understand them?” Ezra leans over and murmurs quietly. Your smirk tells him the answer well enough. “What are they discussing, gem?”

You sniff, raising a brow. “Ooh, nosey ?”

Ezra tips his white patch at you and peers out of the tops of his eyes. “ Nosey has kept me alive this long. Is it about us, or not? Or at least lie and tell me it’s complimentary , if so.” Grogu, sitting on the table by his own plate, gurgles and pushes a heavy sense of dread toward you, but you can't decipher over what. You push your feelers out and can’t sense anything.

You listen to Din and Boba for a minute, chewing quietly, and shake your head at Ezra with a snort. “He's being interrogated about us. Not much different from the Marshal’s questions.”

You feel more than notice Fett’s side-eye at Ezra and then he leans in to say even more quietly, in Mando’a: “ I am glad you sent your comm ahead, I very nearly addressed you upon arrival .”

You keep your eyes on your plate and snap your focus back to Grogu, who is trying to force- feed Ezra half a ronto rib in one bite. When he fails, he goes back to the berries, which are easily mashable when Ezra is too slow to open his mouth in indulgent (but begrudging) acceptance. You laugh with them and ignore the other men, trying desperately to ignore that half- hint you’d just heard.

_______________

Later, once Ezra has been dunked in the tank and fished back out, (Grogu had sat on the tank and focused very intently at his sleeping friend burbling inside while you and Din played sabacc with Krrsantan and Fennec) he had been washed down thoroughly by you both and led out to the patio. You pass a smoking bowl of sweet bud around and lounge. There’s a mountain of lush cushions out there, under a breezy sun awning, and the view offers a perfect vision of all three moons dotting the sky.

Grogu is full, unconscious, and snoring faintly in his pram, in the room. You and Ezra are each laying along one side of Din, nestled in close. For as hot as Tatooine is during the day, the nights are conversely as cold with no humid atmosphere to trap the heat to the planet’s surface.

Din doesn't quite know what to do with the mental image of himself at the moment, relaxing in a pile of cushions, getting stoned, with both partners draped across him like some sort of perverse image of royalty. He has never imagined himself doing anything remotely like this. But he also can’t bring himself to move a muscle beyond running a thumb idly over your soft skin or tracing Ezra’s new durasteel cap, or leaning into one of you we exhaling smoke up his helmet.

By the time the bowl finally fizzles out to ash, you’re all three loose-limbed and enjoying the simplicity of touching, of being together with nothing pressing.

After several minutes (you think- time unspools oddly when stoned) you clear your throat and drop a kiss on the shoulder under your cheek. You had been laying there thinking of what your two men could do to and with you vividly enough that your panties are soaked.

“I think,” you begin slowly, getting your knees under you and climbing over Din: “that you should both fuck me. At the same time,” you add.

They glance at once another and start to move immediately, making you giggle as you’re maneuvered around. Din grips your hips and pushes you onto Ezra, who nestles back into the cushions and pulls the ties of your tunic open, while Din works on divesting you of your boots and leggings. He disappears into the doorway for a quick moment and returns with a vial of slick in hand, shucking his gloves.

“Gem, are we understanding you correctly? You intend for one in front and one in back? Or do you desire us to both share one orifice? I think it will take some work for you to take us at the- the same time– in one –” Ezra grits out, choking on his words when you stick your hand in his trousers and close your fingers over his burgeoning erection.

“I’m going to seat this pretty cock in my pussy. And Din is going to fuck my ass, like a very good boy .” You feel a tremor behind you and grin wickedly.

Got him .

“And when I tell you to, you are going to come so deep in my cunt you’re going to be licking it out for days . Right, baby?” You grip his chin and Ezra’s soft, deep eyes blow wide with capitulation and lust. His throat bobs against your palm on a swallow and he nods frantically.

“Of course I will, gem. Eating your cunt is the finest meal this old prospector has ever had. Only made better when it’s been stuffed so adoringly with our seed, right, Din?” he grins quick when Din grunts in firm affirmation, too aroused and yet cloudy-minded to form a proper response yet.

You three had only done this once before; it was generally too much stimulation to handle for long. But you are effervescent with the bud and feeling extra tactile- you want to feel everything , everywhere.

You feel the cold press of beskar on your shoulder and turn your head to see Din, rutting against your lush cheek through the open fly of his pants while his bare fingers- the only other skin he has exposed on the verandah- rub and press against your back entrance.

“Relax, iisa. Murcyur cuun sheb paklalat,” he pushes you forward with a broad hand between your shoulder blades and you snort, nuzzling into the man below you, who is looking increasingly desperate.

“What’s that?” Ezra asks, craning his neck to see Mando's shoulders shaking with a suppressed laugh.

“ Sheb means ass,” you giggle, and Ezra gasps in mock offense. Before he can start a word- battle and prove Din right, you obey and lick into his mouth, teasing the tip of your tongue over his palate before sucking that plush lower lip between your teeth.

Din has two fingers knuckle-deep in your ass when he reaches his other hand under you to grasp Ezra’s cock, tugging a few strokes to harden him all the way and line the tip of him to your pussy’s weeping entrance. “Sit, iisa . Take him deep, and I will take you when you are relaxed.”

“Take me first , he will be an easier fit,” you counter breathlessly, and Din chuckles against your shoulder, the sound stilted by the vocoder.

“ Ori’elek ,” he sighs, and notches his head at your rear entrance. You use your own weight and gravity to push back as he slides forward, and suddenly you’re lit up with sensation all along your spine. Ezra watches your nipples tighten in his face, from arousal as much as the evening chill, and latches onto one. The new feeling splits your attention, making you rut along the turgid length of the man beneath you. His cock is flattened under your mound, leaking across his belly, and you ride the ridge of it, your ass stuffed and your other nipple now receiving the same attention as before, the other damp and stiff in the cool air.

“ Ffffuck ,” you cry, strangled, and worm a hand between you to guide Ezra’s cock upward, into you. The fit is incredibly snug, despite how you’re literally dripping with your own juices and Din’s slick.

Din makes a low, plaintive growl behind you and drops his helmeted forehead to your shoulder, carefully, at the tightening around him. You drop your mouth open on a gasp, quickly going cock-dumb with the hot clutch of them both stretching you so perfectly. He reaches forward and grips Ezra’s chin, yanking his face up and out of your breasts.

“ Kiss ,” he demands harshly, and tucks his visor close so he can see as Ezra devours your mouth methodically, stealing your breath and hitching your arousal higher. He plays with your tits while you're both doing as he said. You scream into the other man’s mouth when Din kneads your breasts and then pinches your nipples and thrusts up once, hard .

“Din–harder ,” you gasp, and he withdraws, carefully drilling back in as you sit deeper on Ezra’s length, and both men groan at the sliding pressure of one another through the thin membrane between your holes. The extreme pressure on your G-spot is quickly driving you insane.

“ Pak . Grab one of these,” Din treats your breasts to another rolling squeeze and you nearly choke on your tongue, gasping into Ezra’s mouth as he complies greedily.

With his free hand, Din grabs the hand you have on your mound and puts it on Ezra’s chest so you can support your weight and his. He drapes himself against your back and swirls his own fingers over your throbbing, swollen clit, and in an undignified squeal, you’re coming around them.

“Oh, fuck –” Ezra tips his hips up, rutting upward into you desperately as you start to milk his balls empty. “ Kevva , I can’t – please , gem! Can I ??” Ezra begs, nearly biting through his lip trying to hold off.

“When Din does,” you manage, and Ezra’s plaintive whine is only enhanced by his hand coming down and gripping Din’s ass, yanking him into you harder.

“ Come , man!”

With a desperate growl, Din wraps both forearms tight under your tits, tips you forward against Ezra, and ruts savagely , hammering into you with all his considerable strength. His clothed thighs slap against your ass in a brutal pace that leaves you feeling like a ragdoll in his grasp. The pleasurable violence of it catapults you into another orgasm, clenching around Ezra’s throbbing member in a hypersensitive, rolling squeeze of your inner muscles. He hisses but lays still, letting you have him, as much as you can stand.

Mando quickly loses pace and comes with a strangled sound, clutching you to him as hard as he dares. You don't protest- if anything, you writhe against his arms to feel their hold better. Ezra finally releases into you, so hard his eyes go spotty for a second and he sucks in air so forcefully that makes him cough.

You are absolutely soaked , dripping with their spend and your own- more than is even usual. You slide forward off their softening lengths and roll into the pillows to catch your breath. Vaguely disgusted, you intend to go wash once your bones return from gelatin to something vaguely solid.

Din doesn't let you go yet. Instead, he paints his fingers through their combined come easing out of your folds and ass and pushes it back into you, catching a knee with his other palm when your legs snap shut on reflex from oversensitivity.

“ Din ,” you whine, and he chuckles, relenting.

He finally lets you go, watching you toddle off on wobbly legs. “You have one hell of a breeding kink, sweetheart. You angling for more kids?”

If Din could blush hot enough to see through the beskar, Ezra supposes he’d be seeing that steel tinge pink right about now. “Shut up ,” he says, instead, and Ezra drops his head back with delighted laughter. He rolls to his knees and gets up, following you into the bedroom, still chuckling.

Part of Din wonders, though, if you’d ever be amenable. If he’ll ever have a life so domestic, a place to live permanent and safe enough as to even broach the subject.

And if so, if Ezra is still around for that, if anyone would ever be able to tell the difference in your offspring.

_______________

Din stands by the door, an impassive statue in beskar holding a tiny green child, observing in silence. You are sat where you were two days ago, by the chair Ezra is in while his mod arm is studiously attached. Your palm smooths across his thigh, your fingers covered by his.

Instead of Ezra filling the space with silence, the mod artist is explaining the mechanisms to you, the common care and maintenance as well as the general application. He shows Ezra the catch, how it comes on and off as requested, the neural wire that has to be attached to link the base to the limb. The skin overlay is perfect, only two small holes at the armpit and bicep to allow for access to the catches belay that it’s a mod at all.

The neuron work is solid; he leaves the room already able to curl the hand into a fist. The artist explains that by the end of the week he should have full function and sensation. Right now it's all dull pressure and twitchy or slow reactions. The reflexes check out, though, so he’s released.

It’s an otherwise unsuspecting day. After lunch, the three of you follow Din and Boba out to the new shooting range, where Fennec is already practicing with a wide array of blasters and throwing weapons spread on a line of crates. You practice for a bit until the men turn it into a competition and you grow bored of hitting all the targets squarely. Ezra tags off Grogu with you and practices with them for a short while. His grip on the right is already improving but he doesn't trust it, and it shows. His use of the left is better, but his aim isn't predictable at a range. It isn't long before joining you again in the cool shade, taking hold of the kid. He stares quietly down at the new hand, flexing it every now and then.

His nearly-silent, controlled reaction to the mod has you keenly attuned to his feelings, so much so that you don’t catch the warning shot until it’s too late.

Din stumbles from a heavy blaster bolt to his back plate, falling to a knee before whipping around in the sand, both hands already curled around blasters. You push Ezra and the child down behind the crate you’d been sitting on and dive for your own blasters, feeling the adrenaline singing in your veins.

“Above!” Boba Fett shouts, and you see at least a dozen assorted xeno and men duck back behind the craggy mountain wall overhanging the range.

“ IISA ! Hukaatir !!”

“Copy!” you give Din an affirmative Tusken signal and drag the sheet covered in laid-out weapons closer, going back to Ezra and Grogu. Your blaster is trained on the rock walls while Din and Fett rush to the far side, chasing the shooter’s direction.

“Remnants from your firefight?” Din calls out, already flying up to chase them back. Fett is just behind him, shouting a negative and directives that are lost to your ears as they disappear up the side of the bowl-shaped dugout. Fennec is quickly scaling the rock wall after them, and you duck back to cover Ezra and the kid, eyes wide and searching for movement. Grogu coos sharply behind you and you twist, deftly sniping a would-be attacker off his perch on top of the palace.

“Gem, hand me a blaster,” Ezra demands evenly, and you pass him one, reaching for an amban rifle among the spread of weapons. The range is silent now, aside from the echo of blaster fire over the ridge, and you listen to it, pushing out your feelers for anything else coming in range.

You can feel the bright energy over the ridge waning and hope that Din, Fennec, and Fett are managing well. With your back to Ezra and Grogu, you keep the scope of the rifle up on the ridge, carefully attuned to the kid, too, since he warned you previously.

Ezra has his back to the craggy rock wall, Grogu curled in his mod arm and the blaster in his left hand. He’s not particularly confident with his aim as such, but he'll go down shooting to cover the kid until Din or you can get him to safety. He listens, dead silent for once, and sees you moving before he even hears a shift of sand or sees a shadow on the ground.

You turn sharply to the left and up, shouting wordlessly. A jumping Klatoonian takes a blaster shot to the side and still tackles you to the sand. He kicks the rifle from your hands, wrestling until he has his weight on you. He tries viciously to knock you out. Ezra grapples with the blaster, waiting for a clear shot, but with sand clouding around you both and the impressive hand-combat fight you're putting up, he hesitates. When the xeno finally clocks you in the temple and you go still, the dogfaced bastard sits back on his haunches and turns a blaster onto Ezra and the kid.

A dark glint in his eye, Ezra levels his aim.

“Give me the Mandalorian’s child,” the Klatoonian growls, his Basic garbled and stilted. Ezra smirks at him, blood boiling. You’re unconscious in the sand, smeared in blood, and the kid is clinging to his tunic as the Klatoonian dives at him, intending to thrash him around the same as he'd done with you.

“No chance in seven hells,” Ezra grits out. He rolls to prevent Grogu from taking the hit. The Klatoonian depends heavily on his weight and brute force, but Ezra just needs about eight inches of space. He gets the blaster between their chests, and shoots directly upward.

Din comes flying over the ridge just as the Klatoonian’s body drops fully onto Ezra, covering him from view. All Din hears is the deafening silence after the shot, and all he sees is stillness. There is blood is smeared on your tunic and hands, and dripping from your face, and soaking rapidly into the sand around a still and silent Ezra. There is no Grogu to be found. Din freezes , all his senses abruptly feeling like he’s plunged under ice cold water, his heart in his throat, blocking air, his hearing still echoing with the shot. His hearing is a ringing white noise.

Fett knocks him hard in the helmet with his Tusken stick.

“They're alive . Get your mechanic, the Kid is over here with a hostage,” he points, and Din whips around to see Grogu holding another attacker in stasis with the Force, several feet off the ground.

Din drops to a knee and hauls the dead Klatoonian off of Ezra before turning to check you, stirring just a few feet away. You blink up at him, squinting at the unforgiving shine of the sun's on his beskar’gam , and sit upright with a gasp.

“They’re okay ,” Din chokes, unsure of who exactly he’s reassuring with the statement. You still pat him down and, finding no injuries, whirl your head around to check on Ezra, who is propped up on an elbow, drenched in blood and heaving coughing breaths, but unharmed. Similarly, Grogu is dirty but also otherwise in fine condition, holding someone hostage a few feet off the ground. Fett approaches him and speaks clearly:

“Drop your hostage, little one. I would like to interrogate the last of those left standing who thought they could storm my palace and survive.”

Grogu nods and drops the final male, a human, and Fett grabs him, hauling him upright. Din doesn't watch as the older Mandalorian drags the offending quarry inside, closely followed by Fennec. He’s too busy checking your temple where a deep scuff is sluggishly bleeding, as well as a split in your lip.

“I’m fine, are you hurt?” you ask him, stilling the gloved hand that is tracing over your cuts. He shakes his head and you turn back to your other man. “Sorry I didn't get him, Ezra.”

Ezra shakes his head at you, incredulous at your apology. “I am just pleased that I got him away from you two, gem. He wanted the kid.”

“If he wanted Grogu , he wasn't here because of Fett ,” you say, glancing up at Din. His posture freezes.

“ Dank farrik ,” he curses, and grabs the kid, running inside after Boba. “FETT!”

You shake your head and get up on your feet, stumbling over to Ezra. “You okay?”

“I’m fine , gem. A little squished- that xeno was heavy . Are you alright?” he allows you to help him to his feet and peers down at himself in disgust, slicked in blood and caked in sand, reeking . He raises the mod arm and rotates the wrist slowly, making sure it hasn't been damaged. It appears and feels fine.

“Look at that, you shot with your right hand!” You crow, delicately putting your palm under his wrist. He blinks down at the blaster curled in his fist, making a concerted effort to release the fingers and let it drop. They slowly bloom open and he harrumphs.

“So I have.”

_______________

Din catches up to Fett and the attacker in one of the halls on the way to the lower levels. He knows the rancor is kept down one of these dungeon halls, and wonders if the daimyo intends to intimidate him there, or simply throw him in.

“Wait! He wanted the Child. I have questions.”

A quick but effective interrogation is assisted mostly by doing it at the rattling cage door of the rancor’s pit. The man quickly starts sniveling, which leads to the admission that they are, indeed, more of Zeva’s men.

“Are more coming?” Fett asks, Din is grinding his bootheel into the man’s broken fingers on the sandstone floor. The rancor growls low, vibrating the walls, drool pooling under its jaws.

The man spits at Fett, landing short but the intent is there.

“Let me give the kid to my– to them . I’m not finished with that ,” Din growls, and stalks off.

Fennec is posted up with her rifle in the hall when he comes out. She takes Grogu with a wink. “I’ll take him to the kitchens for a snack. Your partners went to wash up.”

“Thank you,” Din says, glancing up at the ceiling like he can see through the floors of the building between him and you two. He wishes he could join you both -- but determining your safety and that he's not leaving a mess or a trail behind him is a priority he can’t ignore. He watches Fennec disappear around the corner and curls his hands into fists.

Before he goes back, he has to cool down or he’s going to beat the guy's face to pulp in seconds. He’d tried so hard to stop any tails, cut off any beacons- how had they managed to slip any past him ?

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door and goes back down to the pits.

Fett now has the man by the scruff and is hanging him into the rancor’s pit, asking him about Zeva’s fleet.

“I don't know , man! I think we were her last drop ship and crew! She has a bunch of kids with old rebellion ships now, running spice to dealers, but that’s it!”

“And no more are coming?”

“Man, she ain't got more to send ! She just wanted him anyway- our job was to bring back his bucket !”

Din straightens and tips his head to one side, observing. “ How did you trace my ship after I found the tracker disc on Naboo?”

“Hate to break it to you Mando , but no one flies those old ass gunships anymore. We just asked around. Someone in Mos Eisley told their street dealer they’d seen it fly over and off again, then back in a few days later. Wasn't hard to find you, even without a beacon.” the struggles against Fett’s hold and coughs. “Not like everyone in the Rim don't know you got friends all over this planet.”

“What other towns did you go to?” Din growls, looming intimidatingly. The guy flinches and shakes his head.

“Our dealers are just in Mos Eisley and Mos Espa, Mando. We came straight here after getting the comm.”

Din makes a mental note to send a comm to Vanth before the night ends to check in, anyway.

“If no more men are coming, and Mando’s travels are heresay, I hope you understand how stupid a suicide mission this was for your spice runner criminal boss. All over a bounty . Ridiculous,” Fett chimes in, finally dropping the man into the pit.

“I think we can confidently brush that little skirmish under the rug,” Boba says, tugging off his helmet. He stops and turns to Din, expectant.

“I’ll handle it, ” Din growls, turning away as Fett closes the pit lid and shuts the door behind their shoulders to muffle the attacker’s screams. “We'll be gone by nightfall.”

“ Din . We are uniquely well-equipped for a strong defense here. Bliss has run out of either men or ships. Or both. You and your aliit are welcome to stay.”

Din hesitates for a moment at the doorway, glancing up the hall as if looking back for you three. He turns back to Fett.

“I will discuss it with them, and get back to you. But I’m sending Bliss a message either way.”

Before he goes up to find his unit – aliit – Din steps back out into the shooting range to collect weapons and approaches a body. He kneels and carefully slices the head off with his saber. Then approaches another and does the same until he has all he can carry. She sent twenty men, and all are dead and laying in the sand out here, save for the one in the pit.

The ships they had dropped from are landed over the ridge. He flies to one and scouts it before climbing in. He toggles the autopilot for a flight path straight to Kijimi and stakes the heads on the steering sticks and in the seats of the drop pods. On his way out, Din kicks the engine on, and watches it stream up into the atmosphere before turning back to the palace.

The next time he finds a bounty on Zeva Bliss or her offspring, he’ll gladly take the lesser reward for a cold delivery.

___________________

If he wasn't so taken with you, Din reckons he would prefer the rancor right about now.

“I thought you said you took care of them ?” You ask, hands on your hips. Din stands steady under your imperious stare.

You aren't even yelling ; maybe that’s worse. He’s very glad that Boba and Fennec decided to entertain Grogu for the night.

“I thought I had . I removed their tracers from the Crest , like I told you when I returned. The quarry Fett interrogated said they knew I'd come to Tatooine and had people watching the skies for the Crest . I have friends here; that was a mistake. I should have taken you elsewhere; I'm sorry.” Really , he thinks, I should leave you all three here and spirit myself away along with all the danger I bring .

He also knows you’d sooner shove a tracking fob permanently up his ass than let that happen, so he stays silent.

“Din, I don't care about where we are or that it’s dangerous. I signed on for that lifestyle when I took the job. Ezra signed on for it when he decided to stay with us. We will be better as a unit, even running from one end of the Galaxy to the other for the next– thirty years!” you throw your hands up, exasperated.

You both look at Ezra, who is chewing his lip and staring unseeing somewhere on Din’s person.

“I was very frightened of losing any one of you three today. But I was prepared to take as many of them with me as I was able.” He glances up at you and his gaze softens a touch.

“I have not felt that sort of loyalty in… A very long time. And in matters of the heart, I tend to err on the side of caution, but I would be the worst sort of liar to admit anything other than being gone on the both of you, and the child. But Din, taking off like that without clear orders was perhaps not the best move, sweetheart. We can't be a team without effective communication and candid appraisals of the situation at hand. We aren't equal partners when you try to handle everything yourself like that. It very nearly got the both of us injured or killed, and your kid spirited away. The fact that trust is clearly there between us each means little in the face of being at the business end of an ambush. We got lucky, today.”

With nothing to retort, Din simply nods.

Later, after dinner in your quarters and some more conversation, there is a scuffling in the dark, punctuated by a heady groan and a separate sigh of relief.

The curtains in the room block out the heat of the sun and the glow of the three moons, drawn tightly as they are. Din has removed his helmet.

“ Din ,” you say sternly, calling his attention. You hear the wet smack of his mouth breaking away from Ezra's, followed by profound silence in the pitch dark. He’s waiting. “Lay back. And spread your legs for us. Arms flat out to your sides.”

You listen for the soft sounds of his compliance, the quiet, reedy groan of expectation pressing up out of his throat. In lieu of someone occupying his mouth, Ezra crawls over and roves his across the curve of your shoulder, his hands cupping and (carefully- he still doesn't trust the mod) kneading your breasts from behind. He follows you as you crawl forward onto Din’s lap, straddling his hips, Ezra kneeling between his splayed knees. Your wetness teases the tip during the upward bob of his cock, straining for stimulation. Another groan bubbles up, but Din stays perfectly still for you.

“Can I tell you a secret , Ezra?” you ask, laying your head back and nibbling his ear. Your hands slide gently up either side of Din’s strong neck, fingers twining tightly into his curls to tug his head back, bare his throat. Both your faces are inches from his in the dark, and you measure your voice so he can hear what he can’t see, another tease, as you bend forward to scrape your teeth over his jugular.

“Please, gem. Especially if it’s about our handsome, kind, loving, strong man, here,” You hear a quiet groan of humiliation and turn to grin against Ezra’s white-tufted temple.

“ You like to be manhandled; it’s not exactly a secret. But I believe I have learned that our beloved boy likes two things best. Praise, and orders . They go hand-in-hand, if he is good enough. And I think you have enough words for that, don’t you, pretty boy?”

Ezra turns his head quickly and catches you in a wicked kiss, hands locking around your throat to keep you pulled back against him. “I sure do , gem.”

You lean back in Ezra’s hold and kiss him, riding the hard ridge of Din’s cock, flattened upward between his belly and your slick seam. You feel the thrum of his tension in the dark, through the Force, as he clenches his hands in the bedding out to each side, trying desperately not to move them to clasp over your hips like he wants.

“He’s being such a good boy , Ezra. Why don’t you let him taste your cock, seat it nice and deep in his throat. And I'll ride him. We’ll see who can come first, and then give him his prize?”

“My love, that is an excellent idea. Din, open wide for me, sweetheart. Give me that pretty tongue, let us use your strong, beautiful body to completion, and then overwhelm you with your well-earned reward.”

Din’s head falls back over the edge of the bedroll with a thunk. You hear the slick sound of him thoroughly wetting Ezra’s cock, as instructed, accompanied by quiet murmurs of praise from above. Your fist is a wet slide, slicked by your own juices, as you pump him to fullness and shimmy your hips back over his to seat yourself.

“ Hnng ,” Din whines around the stretch of his mouth, failing to hold still while you sink down on him slowly, controlled. His hips hitch up, chasing more. You pinch his nipple in admonishment and he jumps, slurping against the length in his throat and going still again. His stomach is an iron board of muscle, clenched tight, and you rub a hand down it, goading him into relaxing.

“Shhhhh, relax handsome. Just let us take care of you,” Ezra soothes, his hand following yours while the mod remains laid around Din’s throat, making him feel the hot stretch of cock from within and without. Din flexes against it, trying to take more, before going mostly limp.

“That’s it, that’s perfect . Oh, shiiiit . Okay, have the whole of it– oh ! You take me so well , sweet thing. Our gem is riding you so deep, I can feel how hard you're trying to hold still for us, Din. Gem, Is it too much to break out the good boy’s ?” Ezra chuffs, gasping when Din sucks harder, encouraging genuine thrusting.

“I think he's being a very good boy,” you sigh, lifting slow and sitting down hard, relishing the punch to your cervix, that deep spot he hits perfectly when he’s buried in all the way. Instead of riding, you grind forward and lean forward enough to pinch and then rub both his nipples. Din jolts with a guttural moan, chokes on the cock in his throat, hands fisting in the bedding on either side of himself. Ezra pulls his hips back, leaving just his drooling cockhead on Din’s tongue, and leans over to kiss you with heated intent, his hands on your face. When you break for air, he whispers conspiratorially:

“I fear we have given our beloved too easy a task, gem. This is a high- stamina, battle- ridden Mandalorian .” He drags his nails up Din’s chest, just hard enough to leave pinkened weals on his skin, not that they can see them. Din writhes into it, rubbing his tongue on Ezra’s sensitive head to squeeze it against his palate, earning a blurt of salty precome.

“I propose another feat, which will test his beskar-clad control. And I daresay I would love thoroughly tormentin’ his fine ass if he fails.”

Ezra withdraws fully from Din's mouth and bends to speak in his ear, pitched just loud enough for you to hear.

“You did something to me when we were spiced that has haunted me since, and now I want to return the favor, sweetheart. You want our gem to have the pleasure of your impressive cock, while I take care of you from behind?” Ezra slides his fingers into Din's hair, pulling sharply and eliciting a whine.

“Maker . Yes!”

“Hmmm. Gem, come up here a minute, our love. I need this man on his knees for me.”

You crawl forward, letting Din up, and he rolls over compliantly onto you, pinning you under his breadth and weight. You lean up and capture his mouth, indulging in a slow, heated kiss. After a moment of silence, he huffs.

“I’m here, paklalat . What the hell are you doing?”

A sharp crack echoes in the room and Din growls; he lifts off of you abruptly and a scuffle ensues. “What the fuck !”

“I am lookin' for the slick, you impatient ogre. Unless you’re keen on a sandpapery fuck. I am decidedly not.” Ezra slides his hand across the heated, freshly- spanked flank and below, cupping the sticky hang of Din’s cock, still coated in your juices.

“ Pak . Come on ,” Din grits, thrusting into the man’s fist. Ezra presses his teeth to that palm-sized warm patch of skin and squeezes Din’s dick, earning a low, annoyed growl. He pushes Din to mantle back over you, plastered to his back and kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed.

“Gemstone, can you pass the slick? I believe it has made its way under that pillow you’re on.” Ezra asks breathlessly and gets up on his knees between Din’s ankles.

The slick vial had indeed been last stowed under the pillow. You find it and pat around for your loquacious third. “Ez?”

“I am right here, gem. Thank you. Hips up, handsome,” he takes Din again by the root and leads him back to all fours, his chest dipped and his ass up. The Mandalorian snorts into your breasts, shimmying until his knees are comfortably spread and laying his head there, pillowed on you. “You just stay there and let us treat you, big fella.”

Before he can protest, you have dragged his head up and reclaimed Din’s mouth, licking any complaint off his tongue with your own. He brings his hands up, feeling useless, and holds you to him. Ezra has his mod hand planted on Din’s ass, spreading him wide to one side while he milks his cock with downward strokes between his thighs with the other.

Abruptly, Din jolts and curses into your mouth and you grin against him. “He using his mouth, sweetheart?” In answer, Din keens against your throat.

Ezra is pressing closer now, that hand still wrapped around Din’s cock and squeezing, his mouth working against the smooth pucker of his entrance.

“Oh, ffffuck ,” Din groans into you, nodding, a hand flailing a bit before landing on your nape, dragging you closer.

Your core clenches, empty and growing wetter with each hitched breath from the men before you. Ezra is pressing fingers and tongue into him now, and when you pass a hand down the valley of Din’s spine to feel them in the dark, you can tell Ezra is being as wicked as possible.

He’s pulled his fingers out and let go of Din’s cheek to bury his face between the soft swells of flesh. A master with his tongue in all ways, Ezra plunges it in deep and draws back slowly, sucking at the rim, painting the flat of his tongue across the softened whorl of muscle before doing it all again. He’s got his arms looped under Din’s thighs, between his knees and curved up to grip his hips, keeping him spread and elevated. Din’s thighs are quaking and a desperate whine pushes up out of his chest when Ezra dives back in, loosening a hand from his hip to tug downward on his cock.

“Let me– issa – Scoot up !” Din demands, manhandling you until his face is at your core. He buries his mouth into you voraciously, shaking his head side to side to part your folds and drive his tongue in deep. You gasp and drop your head back, yanking on his curls in tandem with Ezra's probing fingers.

Your Mandalorian makes low, urgent noises against you when Ezra starts back with his fingers, stretching him slowly and too-gently for his taste, but he can’t rail against it. It feels far too good to complain. He wants more, and faster, and the slight burn of a partner’s urgency and roughness, but Ezra refuses any attempt to speed him up or push back against him.

You are soft and pliant beneath him, raking back his hair and petting his face and tasting salty and sweet under his tongue. Part of him wants you to yank on his hair, give him something sharp and edged to focus on instead of all this softness, but he knows you won't. You and Ezra are driving a point home and he’s simply meant to accept the attention, which is hard enough to convince himself he’s worthy of.

Instead, Din forces his focus onto you. He drags the flat of his tongue up, bringing your slick with it as he circles and then sucks on your clit. You cry out breathlessly and grip his curls, not as hard as he wants but toeing the edge. He loses suction every time Ezra coaxes a sound out of him, but you’re writhing under his attentions regardless, far too turned on to care much.

“ May ,” Din growls, absolutely out of patience, and you hear a huff of laughter from behind.

“I have to admit to some soul-deep glee at you beggin’ for my cock, Din. I shall never tire of it. On your back for us, now,” he spanks Din again, just enough to raise a warm patch of skin, and accepts a biting kiss as Din does as he’s told, flopping to his back. Ezra feels for his hips and finds him just at the edge of the bed, with Din’s knees bracketing himself still kneeling on the floor.

“You did exactly what I wanted, Din. Gem, mount our man, if you would?”

“Of course,” you hum and crawl forward. You arch into their combined touch when they guide you into position and fasten their mouths on either side for your neck, hands tracing your shape and groping lightly. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?” You murmur into the dark, nibbling over one of Din’s firm pecs until you find a nipple and give it a firm suck. He tenses and gasps under you, hands tightening on your hips.

“What- whatever you want , iisa .”

“Oh,” you sigh, grinning wide. “I quite like the sound of that. Ezra?”

The former prospector drops a kiss on your palm and hums. “Me too, gem. I am eager to take him apart already, and put him back together when we’re done. You ready, Din?”

“ Yes ,” he groans.

You reach down and notch his weeping cockhead at your entrance and sit back, taking him deep. When you get to the base of him, you rotate your hips, taking every last millimeter up inside yourself. The grind of his tidy thatch of hair against your clit makes you tighten around him reflexively and Din scrabbles at your hips, whining. You sit straight up, which keeps your pussy tight as a vice around his cock, and hook both of his knees over your elbows, keeping him spread wide open, helpless to simply take Ezra’s ministrations behind you.

“Oh fuck ,” Din wheezes at the snug, hot clutch around him, at the stretch of his rim around Ezra’s girth as the other man starts pressing in slow and steady. The breach is incredible , lighting up his entire spine. It’s a wonder he doesn't immediately lose himself and jet into your womb. The very thought of filling you and Ezra filling him has him nearly biting through his lower lip. “ Iisa ! Pak, please !”

“Shhhh,” you calm him, dragging your fingers down the firm ridges of his belly. He whines pitifully and lets his hands drop to his sides, the way he was before you both maneuvered him around. He pushes back with his hips, meeting Ezra halfway- or as much as he can.

“ There we go,” Ezra sighs, sliding the last inch up inside. He wraps his arms around you and nestles in close, rutting shallowly until he finds the right angle. “Now I expect this to be a brief affair- I know firsthand the amount of stimulation you're experiencing, sweetheart. Gem, I'll take these, if you want to start moving?” He slides his hands up the sweaty backs of Din’s thighs and cups behind his knees, releasing your elbows.

“Don't mind if I do,” you say, twisting back for a kiss. You lift your hips halfway off Din’s length and slam back down, jostling him against the cock in his ass, and he grunts with the strain of staving off his orgasm already .

“ Oh fuck ,” Din repeats, scrambling to focus on anything but his lower half. He hasn’t bottomed often , mainly only with Cobb, and the Marshal's cock had been leaner than Ezra’s. The heady stretch combined with your intoxicatingly slick heat around him like a glove is almost too much to bear. “I can’t– iisa !”

“I know, sweet boy. Come when you need to.”

“This is for you , Din, you don't gotta hold back,” Ezra chimes in, thrusting harder in counterweight to you slamming yourself down on Din’s dick. “Fill our gem up, their pussy begs to gush with your seed, handsome.” He punctuates each word with a languid but firm thrust that takes him to the balls each time.

You lean down, swiveling your hips against his and kiss him, sucking his lower lip into your own mouth and worrying at the swollen flesh. He’s been biting it, searching for some tiny bit of pain to reel himself back in. “You gonna come inside me, daddy?” You whisper the ask against his lips, and that’s it .

Din absolutely– implodes – he comes so hard, he’s pretty sure he blacked out for a second. You’re straightening off his chest, riding him hard and chasing your own orgasm while Ezra pistons into him from behind. He drops Din’s legs and holds onto you, palming your tits and kneading them, pinching your nipples. Din feels everything in the abstract, so far out of his own body for an unspooling moment that he barely feels you slip off his softness, his cum gushing out of you onto his belly as you finish yourself off.

“C’mere,” he slurs, dragging at your waist until you comprehend.

“Oh, yes ,” you sigh, letting him haul you up and seat you on his face. He tastes himself, an undercurrent of your sweet slick cutting through all his salt, and is dimly aware of Ezra shooting inside him, a pooling of warmth that is alien but far from unwelcome.

So soon off the height of your orgasm, Din sucks firmly on your throbbing clit and the roughness of his tongue catapults you into a second. You try to scramble off, feeling an absolute flood gushing out, surely drowning him, leaving you mortified despite the pleasure paralyzing your body. With a wanton groan, Din drinks you down greedily, not stopping for a second, sucking at you until you manage to finally shiver off him to the side and push him away.

“Did our gem squirt on your face?” Ezra barks, folding over Din’s torso to grip him by the chin and haul him into an artless, feral kiss. He sucks the sweet flavor of you off Mando’s lips and tongue, seeks out the dark corners of his mouth and steals even his breath. He finally abandons Din, a boneless, dazed, and gasping heap on the bed, as he crawls over to you in search of more.

“Gem, you must do that again. Not now, but I will coax it from you before long,” he sighs, flattening his weight onto you despite the heat and sweat and come. Din rolls to the side, too sweaty for a cuddle but desirous of being close.

“We need a kriffing bath,” he sighs, not wanting to move but feeling rank. The sheets are fairly plastered to you all now, from sweat and come and your juices.

“I tend to agree, my friend. Who should don the blindfold and accompany you, and who goes last?” He asks, yawning hugely.

“I’ll wear my helmet and wash my face and hair when you two are done,” Din offers, already scooping up the armor. “Strip the sheets? I’ll make the bed after,” he says, already padding to the ‘fresher.

“Let’s flex those budding domestic skills of mine, gem,” Ezra says, swatting the lush curve of your ass to get you off the bed so he can tug the sheets off.

You snort at him and roll off, clicking on a small light and helping. He's doing better with the arm, able to grip and hold easier already. You smile at him, glad that he agreed to the mod if for nothing else than the confidence that's already bleeding back in at his craggy edges.

With the sheets in a heap, you both turn to the ‘fresher and join Din for a soak. Tomorrow you’re probably off in the stars again, but planetside domesticity certainly has its benefits.

One day, maybe, if your little family is very lucky indeed, a little house on some land (with some frogs for Grogu to chase, and room enough for three in a bed, and wide-open skies for watchful eyes) can be a reality.

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