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Din comes to when the N1 shudders out of hyperspace in one of the most turbulent drops he’s experienced since he first learnt how to fly. 

He groans, squinting at the painfully bright, green moon he’s careening towards. His head feels awful, pounding with the kind of headache that usually follows an opponent smashing him face-first into solid duracrete, the ones he gets after he busts his forehead open on the inside of his beskar helmet. With no idea how he got here or why, the alpha briefly wonders if he’s suffering from concussion. 

Only…only when he thinks back, the last thing he remembers is a cantina on Corellia. Right. He’d been looking for information on the Jedi’s whereabouts, trying to find his way back to the kid. There’d been a contact he was waiting to meet, some ex-Rebel that had fallen out with the New Republic, but it hadn’t happened because…because…? 

The headache started there in the bar, he remembers suddenly. Not a migraine, not a concussion. He’d been fine one moment, and then the next it had felt like someone was trying to pull his brain out of his skull with an industrial magnet. He vaguely remembers scaring the other patrons half to death staggering out of the place, jerking around like a puppet on strings with no control over his movement. The only relief from the pain had been to follow the pulling sensation where it wanted him to go, so, with one brief stop in a dirty alley when the blinding pain got bad enough to make him puke, he had stumbled and crawled back to his ship. 

He doesn’t remember if he passed out before or after he got into hyperspace. He certainly doesn’t remember putting any coordinates in; where the hell is he? Din blinks groggily at the moon in front of him for some kind of clue. 

Instead he finds himself approaching atmo much too fast, the viewport filling rapidly with dense jungle. 

“Dank farrick-,” he curses, but before he can so much as twitch, his hands shoot out seemingly of their own volition, clumsily gripping the controls and pulling left so sharply that he only narrowly avoids throwing up again. 

What is happening? He’s a better pilot than this, this isn’t him, but his head hurts so much he can barely think. The ship drops into the atmosphere and cruises a few hundred kilometers above the jungle canopy, crossing over into the dark side of the moon. Din leans forward, peering out into the night - the landscape below doesn’t change much. More hills perhaps, the occasional lake and clearing breaking up the trees. 

Until, suddenly, he sees a pinprick of artificial light up ahead, and the headache disappears just as quickly as it came. 

The N1 lurches unsteadily, whatever was controlling it now gone. Din spits curses to himself trying to wrestle it back on course - with nowhere else to go, he lowers his altitude, heading for the light down below. He adjusts his visor to night-vision, surprised when it reveals great, stone buildings rising up from the surface, cool and blue compared to the warm vegetation around them. Near the largest one, a small village made up of much newer structures sprawls around the base of the monolith. The sight prompts a short, sharp pain behind his eyes. 

Not there, then. He slows his speed but keeps flying. A few kilometers past the town, a hill with a warmly lit stone building on top appears, small enough that he overshoots and flies right past it, coming in too fast. 

When he circles back, the first thing Din sees is a lone starfighter parked in the clearing behind. An x-wing. 

The Jedi’s x-wing. 

Stars know he’s watched and rewatched the footage from Gideon’s cruiser enough to recognize it. Heart in his throat, he drops altitude too fast, landing the N1 hard and clumsy and crooked right by it. The alpha’s already sore head rattles inside his helmet with the impact. 

From outside the cockpit comes a familiar cry, and like a miracle, there Grogu is, rushing out of the low building as fast as his little legs can carry him, dutifully followed by the Jedi’s astromech. Din doesn’t even question his good luck for fear of it being a dream. He almost faceplants into the damp soil trying to get out and greet him, cape getting caught on a gear stick but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care because Grogu is right there, carelessly ripping the offending material from his shoulders to rush towards his foundling. He falls heavily to his knees right as the kid slams into his torso with the full force of his tiny body, and for one beautiful moment Din thinks he might be the happiest man in the galaxy-

And then Grogu starts to wail. 

He looks up at the Mandalorian with desperate, tear-stained eyes, sobbing uncontrollably, and Din goes cold all over. It’s not the wailing of family reunited, but the sound of a terrified child. He’s never seen Grogu cry like this; even after he’d handed him over to Dr. Pershing, even when Din had been on death’s door on Nevarro, even when he’d found Grogu again on Gideon’s ship, his foundling had only let out a few quiet, scared whimpers, eyes wet with tears but never letting them spill. 

“Hey, hey, what is it?” Din asks helplessly, shushing Grogu as he holds him close. “What is it, kid? Are you hurt?” 

Between hiccuping sobs, Grogu shakes his head, pointing insistently at where he’d just come from. Now that Din is on the ground, he can see that it’s not one building but several, clustered together. Most of them are dark and unlit, save for the long one Grogu ran out of and a small hut on the end where the windows are illuminated with a faint firelight glow. 

“Is someone in there? Are they hurt?” Din tries. Grogu nods furiously. Fuck. With a growing sense of dread, Din asks, “Is it...your teacher?”

Grogu nods again, and this time Din swears out loud. It must be bad, if neither Grogu nor the Jedi have been able to fix the problem with their magic powers. Somewhat selfishly, his first thought is for how the hell he’s going to find the kid another teacher if this one dies - it had been hard enough to find a Jedi the first time. 

Grogu wriggles out of Din’s hold, tugging violently on the fabric of the flightsuit covering his leg.

“Okay okay, you show me, then,” Din agrees, standing up. 

Still sniffling wetly, the foundling waddles to the small hut on the end like he’s on a life or death mission, peering back at Din and the astromech to make sure they’re following every two seconds (they are; Grogu top speed is barely a brisk walk for the Mandalorian, and the distance is actually less than fifteen meters). He stops in front of the hut’s door, pointing at it with a loud “Bweh!”, lip wobbling, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Din’s not sure whether Grogu expects him to break the door down, but having seen the way the Jedi fights, he decides that knocking first would be safer. 

The rapping of his beskar gauntlet on steel rings out into the humid night. For a few tense moments, nothing happens; only the chirping of jungle bugs interrupts the silence. But then a muffled noise from within has Grogu pressing his big ears against the door, listening intently - he gestures with a stubby arm for Din to try again. 

The second knock earns the two of them a faraway-sounding “just a moment”, so Din steps back and waits anxiously while Grogu clings to his leg, whimpering unhappily. 

The door slides open and-

And a very bleary, disheveled blond man stares back at him. 

Din takes a sharp, shocked inhale of breath. He smacks a hand against the side of his helmet to engage the emergency ventilators, ears popping as the vacuum seal kicks in. It’s too late, though.

The Jedi isn’t dying. The Jedi is in heat, and the sweet smell of it is already in Din’s nose.

The omega blinks at Din sluggishly, brows slowly pulling into a perplexed frown, as if he’s not quite sure if the Mandalorian in front of him is some sort of heat-induced hallucination or if there really is a bounty hunter standing frozen at his front door. Then his eyes drift down to Grogu, still tugging at the fabric of Din’s flightsuit, whining, and something seems to click.  

“Oh,” the Jedi says faintly, expression slowly settling into horrified realization, “oh, I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding here.” 

Din is just as surprised as the Jedi. “He thought you were dying,” he offers feebly.

“Buddy,” the blond sighs, exasperated. With a pained wince, he drops onto his haunches to speak to his tiny charge more directly. The movement puts the omega’s head at crotch-height; Din surreptitiously takes a few steps back. “We’ve been over this seven times already. I’m not dying, okay? It’s a human thing, you don’t have to worry.” 

Din allows himself to examine the Jedi more closely - despite what he says, he really doesn’t look well at all: his eyelids are bruised with deep, dark circles, hair matted with sweat against his forehead and neck, and when Din activates the heat sensors on his helmet, the omega’s body temperature is worryingly high. More than anything, though, the poor thing just looks exhausted. 

“You do seem…unwell,” he comments carefully, “even for a heat.” 

The omega blinks back up at him, but before he can reply, they’re both distracted by the sudden, small thump of Grogu falling back onto his butt, ears drooping and big eyes struggling to stay open. 

“Aw, buddy,” the Jedi exhales sadly. He reaches out with a thumb to gently smooth the wrinkles of Grogu’s frown. “Tuckered yourself out bringing your Dad here, huh?” 

Din’s helmet snaps back in the direction of the Jedi with alarm. “That was him!?” 

Instead of answering, the omega pulls himself back up to standing with some difficulty, more of his weight supported by the doorframe than the alpha would like. He looks at Din tiredly. “Would you mind putting him to bed for me? Artoo can show you where he sleeps.” 

“Of course,” Din agrees quickly, bending down to scoop Grogu up with one arm. 

The Jedi nods gratefully, mouth set in a grim line. “Come find me when you’re done.” 

The astromech leads the alpha back to the building that Grogu first hurtled out from. Inside, he can’t help but peer curiously into the rooms they pass by - it seems to be some sort of dormitory, a handful of the rooms peppered with small toys and personal items, some laid out for a single resident, others with bunk beds. They must be for the Jedi’s students, but apart from Grogu and the droid, nobody else is home. Their destination is a circular room that appears to be a nursery, with mobiles made of crystals and scrap metal spinning gently from the ceiling. The astromech stops by a crib and whistles cheerfully in binary. It’s too small for a human pup but just right for Grogu - there are other cribs in various sizes lined up against the walls too, including one startlingly large bassinet made of wroshyr wood from Kashyyyk, covered with shed fur.

Grogu settles in his bed without complaint when the Mandalorian lays him down, grabbing blindly for his blanket and snuffling into a pillow. 

“Don’t worry, kid,” Din murmurs, rubbing one of Grogu’s ears between two fingers, “I’m here now. You did good. I’ll look after your Jedi, okay? Sleep easy.” The foundling lets out a soft hum, before his breathing evens out, eyes closed. Allowing himself just a few moments to watch, the alpha feels something jagged and fractured begin to piece itself together again in his heart, before he forces himself to get back to the task at hand. 

Din turns to the droid. “Would you keep an eye on him for me, while I help your master?” he asks it. 

The astromech beeps indignantly, rocking on its struts as if to say that’s what I was already doing, bozo, so he nods and leaves the droid to it. 

When he gets back to the omega’s hut, he cautiously lets himself in, unsure of his welcome. Save for a door that presumably leads to a refresher, the place is made up of just the one room, the kitchen and sleeping space divided by a bookshelf heaving under the weight of actual flimsi books. There’s a stove lit in the kitchen area, the fire casting the room in warm if dim light - it makes Din nostalgic for the Armorer’s old forge on Nevarro. 

Sitting on the edge of a large bed shoved up against one corner of the room, the Jedi doesn’t seem to notice Din come in, an elbow on his knee and his head resting heavily in his gloved hand, eyes closed. He’s wearing only dark leggings and a short robe that wraps at the waist, sleeves long and loose. It’s hard to reconcile the sight of him with the Jedi Din first saw on Gideon’s cruiser; like this, he seems so…small. Soft, in a way Din feels wholly unworthy of seeing. Tired and uncomfortable, judging by the way his breath comes out shallow and audible. 

The omega startles when Din clears his throat. 

“Sorry,” the Jedi says, blinking up at him guiltily, “I’m so sorry, I should have realized what Grogu was doing and stopped him. Honestly, I don’t even know how he managed to reach you from that far away. I mean, I knew he was up to something, because he sat down for his meditation waaay too easily, but then I thought maybe he was just trying to be nice to me because I was sick, and I was so out of it that I-” 

“Stop,” Din interrupts. Too harshly, from the way the blond flinches. Shifting his weight to his other foot awkwardly, he gentles his tone. “You don’t need to apologize.”  

With the seal around his helmet in place and the scent of the omega mostly filtered out, he feels brave enough to step closer, peering down into the Jedi’s eyes as if they can tell him what’s wrong. It doesn’t help much; all he really learns is just how fucking pretty they are. 

“Are your heats always like this?” he asks, trying to be clinical.  

“No,” the omega admits quietly, looking away shyly. “They never usually last this long.”

“How long has it been?” Din presses, pulling off a glove so he can place the back of his hand to the Jedi’s forehead, but this, too, tells him nothing new; all he feels is feverish heat and clammy skin. He quickly realizes his mistake when the omega’s breath hitches loudly, pupils blooming wide and dark. The alpha’s eyes flick downwards to catch the blond’s throat bobbing when he swallows loudly, nose twitching, body tense as he restrains himself from pressing his face to the scent-rich skin of Din’s wrist. 

“Five days,” the Jedi manages, with some effort. 

Din pulls away in shock. “Five days?” he repeats. 

The omega nods miserably. “It just won’t stop this time,” he sighs. “I’ve been taking meds for the fever and the dehydration, but it keeps creeping back up. It’s never been more than two days before.” 

Shit. Din may not know a lot about the other secondary sexes, but even he knows that five days is too many - the Jedi’s temperature is only going to skyrocket the longer it goes on, and he’ll almost certainly need medical attention soon. 

Taking a deep breath, Din squares his shoulders. “What do you need me to do?” he asks solemnly. 

The blond’s head snaps up to meet his gaze through the visor with unnerving accuracy, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Tell me what you need,” Din repeats. “If there’s- some kind of medicine I can collect for you, or a doctor, or…or if there’s a particular alpha you want me to bring here to serve you. Or I could rent one for you. If you want.” When the omega just stares at him, Din sighs, posture slumping. “Listen. I need you alive and well, Jedi. Grogu needs you. I can’t give him what you can. So just. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything at all.” 

The omega looks away from Din, plucking at the sheets anxiously as he considers this. 

“Anything, huh,” he mumbles. He keeps his gaze firmly on the bed. “How far are you willing to go for me, exactly?” 

Din thinks. “Well, it would have to be close enough that I could get back within a day at most, and the N1 doesn’t have too much room, but if I-” 

“No, no, I mean,” the omega cuts him off, looking up at the Mandalorian shyly through his bangs, “if I asked you to help me through my heat. Would you- would you do it?” 

Behind his helmet, Din gapes. 

And gapes some more when the Jedi seems to be serious, staring up at him intently. “Me?” Din chokes out. 

The omega shrinks in on himself and fuck, no, that’s not what Din meant. “You’re right,” the Jedi says, rubbing at his face tiredly with his left hand, “no, you’re right, I’m so sorry, I know it’s too much to ask. I’m your kid’s teacher. You don’t know me, I shouldn’t have said anything-” 

“No!” Din interjects loudly. He gestures helplessly. “It’s just- me?” 

The blond raises one quizzical eyebrow. “Sure. Why not you? You’re an alpha. And Grogu likes you.” 

“Grogu likes everybody,” Din shoots back. “Look, it’s,” he searches for the right word, “...cultural. There aren’t many Mandalorian omegas. So to be asked to serve one through their heat, to be trusted to see them at their most vulnerable, is a great honor - to serve an omega that’s a warrior of your caliber even more so. I’m just. Not sure I’m deserving of the privilege.” 

The Jedi’s expression softens, eyes crinkling sweetly at the corners, and he looks at Din like the Mandalorian is both precious and incredibly stupid at the same time. Din certainly feels like the latter. 

“I’m not all that, really,” the Jedi murmurs. “If you don’t want to do it though, I won’t pressure you. Renting a heat alpha would be fine.” 

A growl rumbles up through Din’s ribs, surprising them both. “They definitely wouldn’t deserve you,” he grits out between clenched teeth. 

“Good thing you’re here then,” the omega says with a smile, reaching out to take Din’s ungloved hand. He presses his nose to the alpha’s bare wrist, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, then sighing like what he finds there brings him some measure of relief. “Still gonna need a yes or no though, big guy.” 

Din…wants. He absolutely wants, but still, he hesitates. After all, his sexual experience is sparse, to say the least, best described with the words ‘short’, ‘awkward’, and, in the case of Xi’an, ‘just kind of scary’. Can he really give the Jedi what he needs? For all he’s dreamed of serving an omega, he’s never knotted anything other than the silicone sleeve that gets him through his ruts, and the thought of buying time with an omega at a brothel had always made him feel guilty, when the credits would be better spent on his covert. Even with the betas he’s fooled around with, he’s never used his mouth to kiss or suck or lick, helmet always remaining firmly on. His sporadic partners had found him an awful lot less appealing when they learned how little he could reciprocate. 

But the Jedi has seen his face before. What would it really matter, if he saw it again? Din is already an outcast in the eyes of his tribe. Why shouldn’t he have this one thing for himself? When will an honor like this ever be bestowed upon him again? The omega’s eyes remain closed, gripping Din’s wrist tightly to himself. The scent seems to be helping, at least a little, but the pinch between his eyebrows betrays the discomfort he’s in, and the alpha knows he doesn’t have much time to decide. 

In the end, it’s the repulsive thought of bringing another alpha here to knot the omega instead that breaks him.

“Yes,” he rasps, words finally escaping the sandpaper in his throat. “Absolutely, yes. It would be my honor, Jedi.” 

The omega cracks one eye open, smiling up at him knowingly. “You don’t know my name at all, do you?” he grins. 

Din tries to find the words to defend himself, but the omega starts to laugh before he can manage it, sitting up properly. “Don’t worry, I’m teasing. Just used to my reputation preceding me, I guess.” He lets go of the alpha’s bare hand to stick out his left in greeting, incongruously formal. “Luke Skywalker. Pleased to sleep with you.”  

Din huffs a small laugh of his own, shaking the omega’s hand. “Din Djarin. Likewise.”

Luke hums happily, leaning back on both hands to look Din over curiously. “So…how do Mandalorians do this for their omegas, exactly? Does the armor stay on?” 

“Not…within the tribe,” the alpha hedges, wincing under his helmet. “There’s an oath we say beforehand, to temporarily excuse its removal. I should keep the armor on, with you, but.” (But Din so badly wants to experience this in full, wants to know exactly what the omega smells like, what he sounds and looks like without the visor between them when he cums, how his bare skin will feel against Din’s own.) “But you’ve already seen my face anyway.” 

“I can say the oath for you, if you want,” Luke offers, eyes clear and blue and devastatingly sincere. “If that’s allowed, of course, I don’t want to overstep.” 

The rush of desire that floods through Din has him biting back a whimper. He’s wanted to hear an omega swear the oath to him since he first learned the words himself, fisting his cock as a teenager to the thought as quietly as he could manage in the crowded foundling dorms. “Please,” he whines, unable to stop himself. 

Luke nods, looking at him expectantly for direction. Getting to his knees in front of the bed as if prostrating himself before the Armorer’s forge, the alpha swallows around the sudden dryness in his mouth. 

“Repeat after me,” he croaks. “Jii Ni haa’taylir.”

“Jii Ni…haa’taylir,” Luke repeats, pronunciation off but all the more endearing for it. 

“Nakar’tuur Ni digur.” 

“N- Nakar’tuur Ni digur,” the omega finishes. “What does it mean?” 

He takes Luke’s hands in his own, placing them on either side of his helmet. “‘Now, I see’,” Din translates. “‘Tomorrow, I forget.’” He releases the pressure seal and gives Luke’s hands a little push to coax them into action. Reverently, the omega lifts the helmet up and off his head.

The wall of scent that hits him has Din’s eyes fluttering closed with a soft moan. Luke smells like- like…freshly baked uj’alayi cake. Sun paste from Tatooine; clear blue skies and warm, white sand. Overwhelming everything else, the musk of a fertile omega in heat - after five long days the air in the hut is thick with the scent of slick and pheromones, only barely offset by the open windows letting the humid jungle night in. It makes his teeth itch deep in his gums, jaw working with the need to bite. The smell of Luke alone already has blood rushing to his cock, steadily thickening with every pulse of his heartbeat. 

When he opens his eyes at last, he finds Luke staring back at him with the same hunger, the beskar helmet in his lap. Strangely, this close, there’s something about the omega’s eyes that remind him of Grogu’s - supernatural. Just this side of too clear, too blue. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs, the word spilling out of him before he can even think about it. 

Luke ducks his head self-consciously with a little psshh, cheeks going red. “If you’re into eyebags and unwashed hair, maybe.” 

“Might be,” Din says agreeably, lips quirking into a lopsided smile. “Gotta say, it’s really doing things for me right now.”

The omega snorts, leaning down to put Din’s helmet on the floor. The movement gives the alpha an eyeful down his robe, slipping just enough to reveal a puffy, dark pink nipple, and Din needs out of his armor now. 

“You want me to use protection? Got a few things in my ship, I can go get them before we start,” he offers breathlessly, standing to start working the beskar off, remaining glove and gauntlets first. Luke follows his movements as if hypnotized, eyes trained on every new inch of skin revealed. 

“...Uh. Steel patch,” the Jedi stutters, shaking himself out of it. “Should be some behind the mirror in the ‘fresher. Don’t need anything else.” 

The alpha pulls his vambraces off with less respect than they deserve on his way into the refresher, mind more occupied with the dizzying revelation that Luke is going to let Din fuck him bare. Sure enough, he finds a slightly dusty box of patches - he grabs one, and steals a teethcleaning tab too for good measure. While he chews he spares a moment to grimace at his reflection in the mirror; he doesn’t look much better than the omega after experiencing Grogu’s brute-force method of getting him across the galaxy, eyes tired and facial hair scruffy even for him. 

When he comes out, Luke is standing up, struggling to shrug his robe off and stay upright at the same time. 

“No no no no, sit down,” Din orders, hurrying over to guide Luke by the shoulders back onto the bed. He hands over the patch. “You looked like you were going to pass out in the doorway earlier. Don’t need you following through on it.”   

Luke ducks his head. “Yeah, sorry…fever’s hitting me harder than I thought,” he laughs awkwardly. 

With his robe crumpled messily on the floor, he peels the packaging of the patch open, tipping his head to the right so he can smooth the adhesive side over his mating gland. It’s made of a fine, steel mesh gauze, porous enough to let his scent through but strong enough that an alpha’s teeth will glance right off it, too slippery to get any purchase for a claiming bite. Given that just the sight of Luke’s bare neck has Din salivating, it’s probably a wise precaution. His gaze drops hungrily to Luke’s naked torso, miles of golden skin now on display for him, and he can’t decide what he wants to look at most - the maze of pale white scars, the athletic planes of the omega’s abdomen, or the dusky pink nipples stiffening in the night air. He has to turn away from the omega just so he can undress without getting distracted.

“Just…let me do all the work, okay?” the alpha throws over his shoulder. “Relax.” He hurries through unclasping the rest of his beskar and the protective padding that goes with it, dumping his impressive selection of weapons out onto Luke’s desk at a speed Star Liner Travel would be proud of, and then toes off his boots and socks. 

He’s unzipped his flightsuit down to the waist and shrugged his arms out of the sleeves when he’s abruptly yanked by an invisible chain clear across the room, stumbling into Luke’s grasp where he still sits on the edge of the bed. 

Suddenly Din knows what being Grogu’s metal ball feels like. He blinks down at the omega in shock. 

“Force, the smell of you, c’mere already,” Luke whines loudly, hands clawing Din closer by the ass and rubbing his face into the alpha’s stomach like a needy loth-cat. He manages to ruck the tanktop Din wears under the flightsuit up with just his chin, dragging his cheek through the coarse hair leading down from his bellybutton. “So good, fuck.”  

The dizzying smell of slick in the room is stronger now, fresh between the omega’s thighs. Luke scoots closer to the edge of the bed and pulls Din between his spread knees. He ruts his hips up blindly, and when he catches the alpha’s legs between his own Din can only gasp, because Luke’s leggings are soaked, stiff cock tenting the seat of them. Din rips his tank off as fast as he can, but Luke beats him to his underwear, scrabbling at the briefs and the flightsuit until he can pull them just far enough down the Mandalorian’s thighs for the alpha’s cock to spring free. 

The omega goes very still for a moment and just stares. His eyes track the precum oozing thick and fast from the slit and the dark flush of the head, the blue of his irises almost entirely replaced by black pupil.  

“Luke,” Din whimpers, “Luke, I-” 

Whatever he meant to say is lost to a strangled shout. Luke swallows down half of his cock in one go, mouth stuffed wide around the shaft. The omega moans in bliss at the taste of it on his tongue, his gloved hand digging into Din’s thigh and the bare one kneading the alpha’s heavy sac, testing the weight of it in his palm. The Mandalorian feels his knees go weak with pleasure, helpless to the way Luke sucks and licks at him sloppily. At the base of his shaft he can already feel his knot starting to ache with the need to inflate. 

“Haar’chaak, fuck, shit that’s- nnghh, Luke, I can’t- Luke stop,” Din grits out, forcing himself to drag the Jedi away from his crotch by the hair, making his head tip back to look Din in the face. 

The omega is gasping for breath when he blinks up at him, mouth smeared with spit and precum. “You have,” he pants, “the best balls. So big. You know that?”    

Din laughs somewhat hysterically. “Nobody’s ever commented, no.” His cock is pretty average, as alphas go, a little girthier than normal maybe, but he’s never given much thought to his testicles. 

Luke bites his lip in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the wild grin on his face. “Gonna give me everything in there?” he taunts, squeezing the alpha’s sac just hard enough to make Din groan pleasantly. “Gonna fill me up?” 

“Depends,” the alpha retorts, giving Luke’s head a little shake, “you going to be good? I told you to let me do all the work. C’mon, your fever’s too high to be getting this riled up.”  

The Jedi growls at him, of all things, butting his head forward to take just the tip of Din’s cock between his puffy lips and sucking almost petulantly. Unbelievable. Rolling his eyes, Din growls right back, secondary sex affording him a deeper, louder rumble, and then he places a palm on the omega’s forehead and shoves hard. 

Luke goes sprawling back into the sheets with a yelp. He doesn’t seem to mind though, once he finds himself on his back with the alpha looming above him - he lies there and just beams for a moment while Din finally divests himself of the last of his clothes. Luke twists and wriggles up the bed on his belly towards the pillows, laughing when he gets dragged back down the mattress by Din yanking his leggings off. The alpha is treated to a glorious nine second view of the omega’s perfect ass before Luke reaches the top of the bed, rolling over onto his back and making himself comfortable. 

When Din first learnt of the Jedi order, he never imagined that they could look so…pornographic. The sight of the omega looking up at him expectantly from his small mountain of pillows - skin totally bare save the glove on his right hand, cock stiff and leaking against his hip - has the alpha pausing to just take the moment in, trying to sear the details of it into his mind forever. 

“There you go, cyar’ika,” Din murmurs, more to himself than to Luke. “Just lie back and look pretty.” 

The words make the omega shiver, watching intently as Din crawls his way up the bed in what can only be described as a prowl. Luke tips his neck to the side submissively and the alpha breaks , moaning pitifully, finally bearing down on the smaller man to press their bodies together. The feel of this much skin on skin is…well, quite literally like nothing Din has experienced before; certainly not since he was a child too young to remember. He can’t get enough, fever-warm and damp with sweat though the omega may be, curling his arms under Luke to hold him tighter and shuddering. 

“What does that mean?” Luke asks, tangling his fingers in the alpha’s curls to guide his head down to his neck. “‘Cyar’ika’?”

“Darling,” Din sighs into his skin. “Sweetheart,” he adds, pressing his nose over the omega’s mating gland, right where the scent is strongest - the tickle of his mustache makes the other squirm. “Beloved.” He breathes in, filling his lungs until they burn, and then out in a heavy gust that causes the skin of Luke’s neck to prickle with goosebumps. “Honey, sugar, baby.”

Luke laughs. “Not the last three, surely.” 

“Why not? You smell sweet enough,” he insists, rubbing the corner of his mouth as close to the scent gland under the skin as he can get. “Do omegas smell like candy so that alphas will want to bite down on them, you think?” he wonders out loud. He may not be able to claim the omega, with the patch in the way, but he can still mark him, smearing his scent into the other’s soft skin and leaving behind pink blotches where his whiskers scratch too roughly. 

Luke rolls his head, fruitlessly trying to give Din better access. “Candy? Is that what I smell like?”

“Cake,” Din clarifies, dragging his teeth down to the omega’s shoulders where he can bite him, nipping little bruises along the way. “Cake and sunshine.” He moves lower, attempting to leave a hickey for the first time in his life; the experimental, hard suck to Luke’s collarbone proves a success, leaving behind a dark stain, so he makes another, and another, sucking longer each time until he’s made a trail of his progress down the omega’s chest all the way to a puffy nipple.  

The Jedi jerks under Din in an electric, full body spasm when he closes his mouth around it, lapping gently at the bud until it stiffens under his tongue. Luke tips his head back, moaning to the ceiling. His hips circle and grind instinctively, cock and cunt trying to rub up against the alpha wherever he can reach, though with the way Din’s bent over him on his elbows he’s not having much success, only occasionally managing to drag the sticky tip along the larger man’s stomach. 

Taking pity, Din shifts to reach down and curl a hand around the omega’s cock just as he latches onto the other, neglected nipple. The blond makes a breathless noise like nothing the alpha has ever heard before, hands clawing at whatever they can reach - one settles in his hair, pulling tight and keeping Din’s head in place where he suckles, the other digging into the meat of the arm reaching down. In Din’s palm, the omega’s cock isn’t as petite as he’d always heard they were; it’s not that much smaller than the average beta, a pleasant if sticky weight between his fingers, the shaft tacky with precum both drying and new. Tugging the soft foreskin up and down, he thinks idly that he could just about get the whole thing in his mouth without gagging, if he tried. 

Pulling off the omega’s chest with a final, gentle scrape of teeth that makes Luke buck up into his hand, Din grabs instead for the wrist holding his shoulder, licking a wet, proprietary stripe over the scent-gland there. He sits up, intending to do the same for the other, but is met with that single black glove and a curious lack of scent. 

“This stays on?” he asks, nudging at the leather with his nose. He finally realizes what’s under there when he sees the seam cutting neatly around the omega’s forearm. 

“A-ah…yeah,” Luke pants, “sorry, it’s. Keeps the prosthetic clean.”   

Poor thing, Din thinks, the scent gland on his right arm gone along with the hand; he licks a determined stripe there anyway, rubbing his face along it and pressing a kiss to the seam for good measure, leaving his own heavy scent behind. 

Then he sits up and gets back to where he really wants to be - kneeling between the omega’s spread legs and parting strong thighs to look his fill. Luke squirms underneath the scrutiny, but Din holds him still. Where a beta or omega woman’s clit would be, a cock juts out instead; where a beta or alpha’s man’s testicles would be, there’s nothing, padded pubic mound instead parting into labia. Din doesn’t even have to touch to know how wet the omega is - Luke’s folds are shiny, hair matted down with slick. Even his inner thighs are visibly damp, skin slippery. 

“You know you’re gorgeous, don’t you?” Din asks disbelievingly, eyes locked on a stray drop of slick oozing its way down the omega’s perineum. “You have to know.” Luke makes a noise like he’s going to disagree, so Din cuts him off before he can, looking up to stare at the Jedi imploringly. “How? How do you not have a whole line of alphas just waiting to worship you? Who let you suffer alone for five days?” 

Luke covers his face with his hands, skin burning beet-red underneath them. He seems utterly incapable of dealing with the praise. “I’m- I can’t- Jedi aren’t supposed to-”

“Don’t even try me with your attachments thing,” the alpha interrupts sharply. He scoots back to lie between the omega’s legs. Then, pressing his mouth to the soft skin of Luke’s thigh, he adds, “You could use me until I cried and then throw me out of here without my armor and I’d thank you for it.” 

Eyes covered as they are, the sudden scratch of Din’s scruff makes the omega jump, peeking out between his fingers just in time to watch the alpha drag his lips up his cock in the barest, teasing brush of friction. He darts a hand out to push Din’s head away. 

“Ah- mm, Din, Din I don’t need-”

“This is for me,” the alpha murmurs, looking up at Luke with his chin resting on the omega’s hip, big, brown eyes pleading. “Just a little? Please?”

He’s never tasted someone else’s cum or slick before. Somehow it feels essential that he experience Luke’s, unsure when or if he’ll ever get to do this again, bound as he is (was?) by his strict creed. The Jedi seems to realize this, expression softening; he nods in permission. Din wastes no time in licking a broad stripe up the omega’s cock with the flat of his tongue.  

“You know I’m going to - oh - to need you more than once, right?” Luke points out, even as his eyes flutter shut and his legs spread a little wider to accommodate Din between them. “You can do this later, if you really want.” 

“Mhm,” Din agrees absently. He’s a little busy slipping Luke’s entire length between his lips; what do you know, he can take it all. The head only just bumps up against the back of his throat. He sucks consideringly. The taste of the omega’s precum is less bitter than his own, less salty, more similar to the musky scent of slick. It makes sense - an omega’s cum isn’t as viscous as the other designations. Milky and wet. Certainly not as thick with seed as an alpha’s. 

Luke’s hands slap back over his face, muffling bitten-off curses with his palms. Din thinks he hears some Huttese in there. He also just about catches some very specific Corellian about what a bastard he is. 

Just one more thing, Din promises himself, and then he’ll be satisfied; he pulls off with a tight suck that makes Luke’s right leg jerk, and then moves even lower. Laving his tongue between the folds of the omega’s pussy, slick pools into the curl of it, leaking down the alpha’s chin; between the heady taste and the high-pitched cry Luke makes in response, Din can only groan weakly, feeling his own cock throbbing in time with his pulse where it’s pressed into the mattress. He rubs his mouth and chin up against the blond’s cunt artlessly, blindly - he wants- he wants- 

He wants the smell of Luke’s slick to stick to him, he realizes. He wants the scent of him trapped in his mustache, haunting him for days to come; suddenly he’s never been so glad for his lax shaving routine, smearing his upper lip through the wet folds over and over until both his chin and mouth are soaked. He barely notices when he has to slap a hand out to stop Luke’s thighs from closing around his head and suffocating him. Nor does he pay much attention to Luke’s hands in his hair, grasping near painfully at whatever curls they can reach. 

“Din- fuck, baby,” Luke begs, voice almost a sob. “Really need that knot right now, c’mon.” 

Yes, Din thinks, growling low, yes yes yes. He sits up on his knees, wiping his mouth with the inside of his wrist over one of his scent-glands for later. Pulling Luke down the mattress by the waist, he rests the omega’s hips over his thighs, tilted up and legs splayed around the alpha’s sides. 

“Like this?” Din asks. He takes his cock in hand and presses just the tip to the omega’s pussy, slowly dragging the head between the slick folds. Teasing. Thick precum bubbles up from his slit to join the mess. 

“Yes,” Luke gasps, lifting himself up on his elbows to try and look down at what Din’s doing, “yes, go, yes-”

Nothing in his life has prepared Din for how it actually feels pushing inside the omega’s cunt - not stories, not pornography, not even the betas he’s slept with. Luke’s body resists him at first, almost unbearably tight. Then his cock seems to slip in all at once, suddenly several inches deeper than he means to be, eased by the slick that squelches obscenely out around him, displaced by the thick shaft. It’s so warm, so wet it almost feels like silk, and the grip of Luke’s cunt is nothing like the silicone sleeves he’s used before, so much better that he’s not sure how anything else is ever going to be enough again. 

Eyes rolling back, the omega makes an almost pained noise of relief. 

“Kad Ha’rangir bal an te Ka’ra,” the Mandalorian curses, staring wild-eyed at where his cock disappears into the omega’s body. “You’re so- fffucking tight, cyar’ika, I don’t-” he gasps, “I don’t know how long I’m going to last.” 

“Don’t care,” Luke shakes his head drunkenly, panting. “Kiss me?” he pleads. 

Din swallows, trembling with the effort of holding his hips still. “I don’t know how,” he admits. 

“S’ok,” Luke says soothingly, blue eyes half lidded. He strains forward on his elbows a little, inviting Din closer. “I’ll show you, c’mere.” 

Leaning down to kiss him pushes Din’s cock deeper, in up to the hilt and balls cushioned firmly against Luke’s ass. He gasps into the other’s open-mouth, hips thrusting once helplessly; it punches a satisfied grunt out of the omega in response. Then the Jedi takes his chin between a thumb and forefinger, moving the alpha where he wants him so he can press his soft lips firmly against Din’s own. Just these closed-mouth kisses feel dirty, after a life spent hiding under beskar. He shivers when Luke’s mouth parts to suck at his bottom lip - tentatively, he sucks back, pulling the omega’s upper lip between his teeth. It earns him an approving hum and Luke’s tongue, slipping into Din’s open mouth to tangle with his own. Filthy. 

The omega’s fingers around his chin push him away, leaving him moaning around nothing, only just far enough that Luke can look at him with heavy, dark eyes, centimeters away from Din’s own. 

“Go on, baby,” Luke commands, whispering it into his mouth, “fuck me like you really want to.” He punctuates the words with a gentle nip to the alpha’s bottom lip. 

Din could weep. 

Instead he does as he’s told, drawing his hips back so they can snap forward hard. Luke grins around a breathy ‘ah!’, eyes falling shut and head falling back. The alpha sits up, the better to wrap his hands around the omega’s hips, keeping him in place as he starts to thrust in earnest. If he were a gentleman, he might start slowly, but as it is he has no patience left. The best he can hope for is to make Luke cum before he does.  

The omega lets his elbows drop, upper half falling into the pillows. Every rough thrust of Din’s hips rewards him with a new noise, each more obscene than the last. For a while, he tries to keep quiet, listening intently to the litany of sounds falling from Luke’s lips, their heavy breathing, the lewd, wet noises of his cock fucking into the omega, but he can only hold out so long before a broken cry of his own escapes. The noise has Luke’s eyes flying open, breath hitching excitedly and cunt clenching hard around him. 

He doesn’t hold back after that. The omega seems almost deliriously turned on by his hoarse gasps, and what is he here for, if not to give Luke everything he wants?  

Din has never considered himself to be a particularly large alpha - hard to, when he grew up comparing himself to Mandalorians like Paz. He’s strong, yes, but not visibly so, muscles padded with a layer of softness brought on by too many overly-processed ration bars and not enough fresh cooking. But now, looming over the omega coming apart underneath him, he feels big. Powerful. Every gasp that punches out of Luke is another stroke to his ego. Every thrust of his hips makes the blond’s whole body bounce up the bed, before Din effortlessly hauls him by the waist back onto his cock, a steady IV-drip to his self-esteem.    

He fucks into Luke hard and fast, feeling the tell-tale ache building in his knot that comes just before it pops. Biting his lip hard to stave it off just a little longer, just a little more, Din reaches for the omega’s cock. His fist covers almost the entire length of it - he strokes quickly, twisting at the head the way he likes best himself, while he starts to form an apology on his tongue for when he inevitably finishes too quickly-

And then, tensing abruptly, Luke cums into his hand. His release spurts wetly into Din’s palm, escaping between his fingers to drip down the back of them. The omega’s back arches, moaning high-pitched and hurt, eyebrows pinched like he can’t stand the pleasure of it all. The long column of his neck on display, ready to be claimed. Cunt twitching, bearing down around the alpha like a vice. 

Din is helpless in the face of it. 

Only just holding onto the presence of mind to slam as deep into Luke as he can get, his knot swells and locks them together with a downwards rush of blood so violent that it makes his vision white out for a few seconds. The first pulse of cum shoots from his slit in a flood and doesn’t stop, hips bucking with every new wave that follows. The exquisite agony of it has him falling forward - or Luke pulls him down with his magic, he’s not sure which, but the omega catches him either way, clawing and tugging Din close with both legs and arms until all of his limbs are wrapped tight around the alpha. 

He’s never cum this hard or this much before, even in rut. It seems to go on forever; his cock throbs with every hot rope of cum that Luke’s cunt pulls from him, filling the omega to bursting with thick seed. Overwhelmed, all he can do is cling to him and whine pathetically, hiding his face against the omega’s neck.   

Luke purrs and purrs underneath him, deeply satisfied, the sound of it vibrating through Din. He runs his hands soothingly over the alpha’s broad back, one getting sidetracked by the bumps of his spine and the other drifting higher to comb through Din’s hair. It helps; slowly, the alpha stops trembling, and it stops being too much and just feels good , knot firmly cocooned in the warm, wet heat of Luke’s body, each spurt of cum wrung from him less intense than the last. 

It takes a good five minutes before either of them can form words, and the only one that comes out of Luke is an awestruck “Wow.” 

The sound makes the alpha deeply self conscious, suddenly afraid that he did a bad job, that the omega is making fun of him. He isn’t, though - when he lifts his head to check the other’s expression, Luke is staring a little cross-eyed at the ceiling, cheeks flushed with color. He looks a bit like he just got run over by a speeder. 

Din can relate. 

“You okay?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Uh-huh,” Luke grins drunkenly. “Amazing.” He tips his head towards the refresher, lifting a lazy arm in the air - Din’s not sure why or what he’s doing until a towel suddenly smacks into them, making him jolt with surprise. “Definitely gonna need this.” 

He’s right - after some awkward shuffling to get the towel underneath the omega’s hips, when the alpha’s knot goes down and he grudgingly pulls his softening cock from Luke, all the cum and slick comes rushing out with him. Din is honestly a little shocked by just how much there is, but Luke only hums happily at the sight of it, dipping a finger in the puddle they’ve made and bringing it to his mouth for a taste. Then he pulls the alpha in by the chin for a long kiss, open-mouthed and full of tongue. Apparently satisfied, he flops back down into the sheets with a contented sigh. 

Din suspects he may not survive the night at this rate. But, as much as he wants to just lie back and contemplate the way that orgasm flipped his entire galaxy upside down, there’s a long-buried alpha instinct crawling up his spine uncomfortably that demands he take care of the omega first. He heaves himself up from the bed with some effort, legs wobbly, and fetches a wet cloth and a cool glass of water. 

“Drink up for me,” he insists. Luke doesn’t fight him, gulping most of it down and then offering the last of the cup back to Din, who finishes it gratefully. The omega is pliable and sleepy while he wipes as much of the cum and slick off the two of them as he can, but as soon as Din stands up to try and take the cloth and towel back to the refresher, he finds himself yanked backwards into the mattress by that invisible chain again, landing on his back next to the Jedi with a winded oof. 

“Stay,” Luke whines, rolling over to burrow into Din’s side. The alpha is really starting to wonder how conscious these sudden displays of power are for him; Jedi in heat truly are terrifying creatures, he decides. With a bit of shuffling, he resettles the omega so that his right arm is around the smaller man, Luke’s head comfortably pillowed on his shoulder. He relaxes against Din with a tired sigh. 

Din lets Luke doze so that he can have his post-orgasmic existential crisis in peace, though the panic feels muted and far away, brain still addled and fuzzy with pheromones and dopamine. He feels a bit like he did when he first saw the Nite Owls take their helmets off, he realizes, that same sensation of the universe suddenly twisting on its side and dropping him into freefall. Because, now that he actually knows what it feels like to knot an omega without the armor, he’s not sure how he’s meant to forget; the oath Luke took with him seems like nonsense in retrospect, when he looks down at the Jedi and his chest hurts with how handsome he is. He can’t imagine how it would feel if Luke was a Child of the Watch too, face hidden away behind beskar afterwards. At least then, he thinks, he could have jealously hoarded the memory of Luke’s blue irises to himself, the slope of his nose, the wicked curve of his mouth - instead, he has to share these things with every sentient in the galaxy. 

His hind-brain looks at Luke and thinks, with unfounded certainty, this is mine, while the cold, beskar-plated Mandalorian part of his mind bitterly reminds him that his place in Luke’s bed is temporary. 

Din swallows roughly, pushing the thought as far out of his head as he can manage. This is an honor, he tells himself angrily. Be grateful he thinks you deserve it. You’ll take what the Jedi gives you and ask for no more. He repeats it to himself like a mantra, over and over.

Half an hour after Din pulled out of him, the Jedi begins to stir, starting with little sighs and gradually leading to a wandering hand tracing curiously over the alpha’s chest, and Din puts his crisis aside to inspect his patient. He’s still overly warm, but not quite as fever-hot as he was before. 

“Hey,” Din says, nudging at Luke’s hair with his nose, “how’s the heat now? Any better?” 

“So much better,” Luke moans, stretching out and somehow managing to curl closer into Din’s side as he does so. He blinks sleepily up at the alpha. “M’sorry…think it’s only going to take one more round.”

Din frowns, confused. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Not much fun for you, right?” Luke shrugs. “Not the marathon alphas like to brag about.” 

Din just stares at him disbelievingly. As if this hasn’t already been the best sex he’s ever had. “Di’kut,” he breathes, heart aching with fondness. When Luke hums in question, he presses a firm kiss to the omega’s forehead. Using his lips to do so instead of his helmet still feels like a novelty, so he does it again. “Having you once was already a gift.” 

Luke’s eyes fall closed, purring starting up again as Din runs a hand up and down the omega’s back. The alpha just watches for a while, fascinated by the spread of the blond’s dark eyelashes, before something occurs to him. 

“Where are your other students, anyway?” he asks. 

“Hm? Oh, they’re- down in the village, or off-world with their families,” Luke replies easily. 

Din goes very still. “Their families,” he repeats flatly. He feels more than sees the Jedi cringe. 

“Right. Yeah, I’m…sorry about that,” Luke sighs, opening his eyes to look at Din sincerely, mouth set in a grimace. “You weren’t- well, you weren’t green, so I didn’t even think about it until we got back and Grogu told me more about you. Then I didn’t know how to find you, but. If it makes you feel better, Grogu wasn’t concerned. He thinks you’re the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, you know? He knew you’d find him.” 

“Seems like he found me first,” Din grumbles, but he’s finding it hard to be all that upset after the last two hours of his life. Luke seems to sense his forgiveness, tension bleeding out of the omega. He gives the alpha a little apologetic lick on the skin nearest to his mouth anyway though, which happens to be Din’s pec right now. “Why’d you keep only Grogu here at the school?”

“Mmm…because he’s stronger in the force than the other kids. Wanted to keep an eye on him. The other students can’t cause as much trouble yet,” Luke says, lips brushing Din’s chest ticklishly when he speaks. “...And a little bit because he’s so tiny. I worry.” 

Din feels oddly vindicated by that addition. Perhaps it’s just the pheromones, but he feels himself forgive Luke fully for the months he spent apart from Grogu, content in the knowledge that his- this omega feels just as fiercely protective as he does over their pu- his foundling. He briefly has the thought that he’s chosen well, but then can’t figure out what it is he thinks he’s chosen. The thought fades as quickly as it came. 

“Hey,” Luke says suddenly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Din, “you said there weren’t many Mandalorian omegas. Why is that?” 

Din hums in thought. “Artificial selection, I suppose,” he says. “It’s the usual odds for planet-born Mandalorians, but the foundling population skews the numbers. We’re more likely to adopt alphas and betas. Feisty little kids, good potential for the fighting corps. You know?”

“I don’t, but sure, I guess that makes sense,” the Jedi grins. “Was that you, then? A feisty little kid?”

“Not at all,” Din snorts. He turns his head to look up at the ceiling. “I was…quiet. Angry. I actually- I’d watch the other foundlings roughhousing and worry I was going to be a terrible Mandalorian. But then one of the elders told me that all good predators are silent when they hunt. That I was a natural at what the louder kids would struggle to learn.” Din blinks, surprised; it’s been a long time since he last thought about that day. More softly, he adds, “That was the first time I felt like I could really be one of them, I think.”

Luke hums, tracing the alpha’s collarbones with one finger idly. 

“Were you…asked to serve omegas often, in your tribe?” he inquires carefully, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. 

“Hell no, never,” the Mandalorian barks a laugh, rolling back onto his side to look at Luke fully. “I’m not much of a catch.” 

“Why not?” Luke demands, indignant on Din’s behalf. It makes the alpha smile. 

“Hmm…well. They like them big and broad, first of all,” he muses. “But mostly, they like alphas with more experience. So at first I was too young for their tastes. And then I got picked as beroya, and I just wasn’t around often enough to be chosen.” 

“Okay okay, I really gotta know, though,” Luke says, sitting bolt upright with a shit-eating grin on his face, “you can’t take off your helmets, right? So what happens if they pick an alpha for their heat, and it comes to taking helmets off, and they both think the other is butt-ugly?” 

Din rolls his eyes with a pffftt, dragging Luke back down to pin the omega to the bed with his own body. “Think they’re too horny to notice by that point. Why, you trying to tell me something?” 

“No!” Luke laughs, smacking lightly at Din’s flank. “I have seen your face before, you know. I remembered you were handsome.”

The alpha feels his cheeks heat up. “Yeah?” he says, shyly.

“And you’re plenty big and broad,” Luke insists, running his hands along the top of Din’s back with wonder in his voice. “These shoulders, fuck.” Din buries his face in the Jedi’s neck, equal parts pleased and embarrassed. 

“Keep sweet-talking me like that and I’m going to have something else big and broad for you,” he mutters into sun-kissed skin. 

“Din Djarin! Why I never!” Luke exclaims, absolutely delighted by the response. Din kisses the glee off his face, helpless to do anything else. Of all the other new things he’s finally experienced tonight, he has never once thought about what it would feel like to kiss someone who’s laughing; it’s nice, feeling the vibration of Luke’s closed-mouth giggling against his lips, if inefficient. He decides to put a stop to it by licking his way past the seam of the omega’s lips to lap tentatively at the other’s tongue. The Jedi’s laughter dies off with a contented little ‘mmm’, sighing happily into Din’s mouth and curling his arms more tightly around the shoulders he seems to like so much.  

“You are, you know,” Luke interrupts suddenly. “Very handsome.”

“Are you saying that because you need my knot again?” Din deflects. 

But Luke doesn’t rise to the bait. “I’m saying it because I’m not sure you’ve ever heard it before,” he says earnestly. “And you should hear it. You have the most beautiful smile.” He traces a finger along Din’s lips, and admits quietly, “Even if you had brought me a heat alpha, I would have wanted you more.”  

The alpha grabs Luke by the face and pulls him into a rough kiss. He doesn’t know how else to hide the way his eyes are watering. Luke doesn’t call him out on it, if he notices, just slips his tongue into Din’s mouth and traces carefully over the alpha’s sharp canines. He hooks one leg around the alpha’s hip - he’s hard again, trying to grind his cock up in search of friction. 

With an extremely put-upon sigh, Luke lets his head fall back heavily. “Okay, but I am going to need that knot,” he pouts.    

“Anything you want, baby,” Din coos, playing along and pressing noisy, annoying kisses to the omega’s cheeks. Luke laughs and squirms, pushing Din’s face away. The alpha grins. “On your back again?” 

“Mmm…no,” Luke says, sitting up. Din rolls off so the omega can pull some pillows down the bed. He lies back down on his front with his hips raised up by the little mound he makes. He looks over his shoulder at the alpha invitingly. “Like this.” 

Din doesn’t pray often, but, crawling up behind him, he sends a quick, mental thank you to whatever higher power in the galaxy is responsible for Luke’s ass. He helps himself to a handful of each round cheek, kneading and squeezing; he pushes the soft flesh upwards and then lets go, watching it jiggle. With Luke on his front and his back on display, the position offers Din a new, blank canvas of skin to mark. He scrapes his teeth along a shoulder blade, rubbing his scruff wherever the mood takes him - sucking a blotchy bruise here, a wet kiss there, down, down Luke’s spine until he’s low enough that he can bite the meat of his ass, just hard enough to leave an imprint of teeth.  

The omega squirms, spreading his legs as much as he can, and Din is presented with a perfect view of the furl of his asshole and the pussy below it, wet and slick once more. Unable to resist another taste, Din gives Luke’s folds a firm, flat lick upwards, and - in for a credit, in for a camtomo - drags his tongue up over his hole curiously. Luke moans softly in response, gently humping his cock into the pillows underneath him. He’s more patient now that he’s had one knot, generously tolerating the alpha's explorations. Din laps at his hole thoughtfully, but he can’t taste much other than the slick that’s been leaking copiously, smeared even between the omega’s cheeks. 

Sitting up, Din curls two fingers into Luke’s cunt, enjoying the wet squish of it and the drawn out groan that results. Fingers coated with slick, he pulls out to instead run the pads of them over the blond’s pink hole - he slips one inwards, up to a knuckle, then two, then pumping a whole finger in and out gently. He’s honestly surprised that the omega allows it, but Luke only ruts his hips harder, arms folded under his forehead and panting softly into the space they make. Briefly, Din lets himself entertain the fantasy of fucking Luke in the ass instead, imagining him crying out in frustration, knot so close but so far from where he needs it while he’s in heat - he’s never actually managed to pop a knot during anal before, always cumming like a normal beta, but with the scent of the omega in his nose Din is certain he could manage it. Thinking about it makes his cock leak with long, pearly strings of precum.

Grabbing his shaft and giving it a firm stroke, Din shuffles forward so that his knees are on the outside of Luke’s, bracketing the omega’s legs with his own. He spreads the Jedi open with his thumbs, the head of his cock bumping up against the omega’s pussy and meeting that same resistance when he pushes in, before he slips inside once more, slowly feeding his length into the molten heat until he bottoms out.  

“Uunnhh,” Luke groans, arching his back to meet him, “Din- Din, I want- I…”  

“Tell me,” Din breathes. “What do you want, cyar’ika?”  

“Like…like an animal,” the omega mumbles, hiding his face in his folded arms. The back of his neck is red with embarrassment. “Mount me. Pin me down. Wanna- wanna be trapped under you.” 

Din purrs, more than happy to drape himself over the omega’s back. He curls his arms tightly around Luke and rewards his honesty with a sucking kiss to the sweet-smelling skin of his neck. It makes the Jedi shiver.

In this position, it’s easy to let his hips rut forward instinctively. He starts slow, attempting to fuck with a little more finesse - if the heat is nearly over, he wants this to last. He presses into Luke with deep, slow thrusts, before pulling back almost all the way, forcing the omega to feel the burning stretch of it with every push inside.

“Shit,” Luke whimpers, taking gasping breaths, “that’s- mmf, so thick.” 

The praise goes straight to the alpha’s head, humping into the body beneath him a little faster, a little harder. He plants his hands on the mattress on either side of the omega for more purchase, grinding his hips on the end of every thrust and punching a steady stream of open-mouthed ah! ah! ah!s from the omega that only spur him on more. Whining, Luke tries his best to move, desperately trying to get some friction on his neglected cock, but with Din’s legs locking his own in place he’s at the mercy of the alpha driving him into the pillows at the end of every deep thrust. 

Underneath him, Din can feel the soft flesh of Luke’s ass ripple with the aftershocks of each pound of his hips. The slap of his balls against the omega’s cunt is loud, wet with the slick that’s dripped onto them, and soon he’s incapable of holding back, fucking as hard as he can. Luke cries and moans and gasps like a Mos Espa whore, squirming with overstimulation, wriggling like he’s not sure if he wants to get away or press back for more. Din hauls him back into place with firm hands, pressing down on his shoulder blades with his full weight.    

That’s what does it, Din thinks - Luke cums then, even harder than last time, crying out loudly while his hips jerk where they’re trapped between the pillows and the alpha’s thick cock. Din manages to fuck him through it, gritting his teeth against the wave of orgasm he can feel approaching, but in the end the squeeze and flutter of Luke’s cunt around him makes it impossible to resist, knot locking them together and hot pulses of cum filling the omega to bursting. 

It’s only slightly less overwhelming than the first knot. At least Din knows what to expect, now; he’d thought he wouldn’t cum so much, balls wrung dry by the last orgasm, but there seems to be just as much if not more, shooting out near endlessly into the welcoming heat. He shudders and trembles, wrapping his arms around the omega tightly. His neck is- his neck is right there, he smells so good, he smells like Din’s-

He doesn’t lose himself enough to try to bite down on the patch covering the mating gland, but to his shame, he does bite into the meat of Luke’s shoulder. Hard. The omega lets out a small grunt of pain, but neither complains nor pushes him off. He keeps his jaw locked there while he rides the first wave of his orgasm, too much, too good. It helps, somehow, holding onto Luke with his teeth, snarling sharp breaths in through his nose, until the pleasure finally simmers down into ecstasy rather than agony and his jaw unlatches with a wet snap, panting hard and open-mouthed into the omega’s ear. 

“Wow,” Luke breathes, awed. “You really just. Cum like a bantha every time, huh?”

Din swallows uncertainly. “Is that…bad?” 

“Nuh-uh. Feels fantastic,” the omega grins lazily, eyes closed. “Never had this much before. And twice!” He reaches behind him to give Din a little good job pat on the cheek. “You’re a stallion.” 

The alpha preens, despite not being completely sure what that means. 

Luke slowly gets his breath back, but his eyes stay shut. Din only knows he’s still awake from the satisfied hums he makes whenever the alpha’s knot throbs or cock twitches inside his cunt, the last of his cum dribbling out in weakening spurts. The omega’s skin isn’t as hot now, and the light sheen of sweat on him is from a combination of exertion and heavy, warm alpha pinning him down rather than fever.  

“Hey,” Luke mumbles sleepily, grabbing blindly for Din’s hand and squeezing, “don’t be offended if I fall asleep on your knot, okay? Means you did a good job. Wore me right out, damn.”

“Think that was the five days in heat, cyar’ika,” the alpha points out dryly. 

“Nope,” Luke says around a yawn, words getting slow and slurred. “Def…def’nitely the dick.”

Din smiles into the omega’s shoulder, watching with amusement and no small amount of fondness as his breathing slowly evens out. Even after his knot deflates, he doesn’t move, letting his cock soften inside the sticky heat of the omega - Luke isn’t going anywhere right now, after all - until the mess of cum and slick finally starts to get uncomfortable. Trying not to disturb the smaller man, he pulls out as gently as he can, and then slowly rolls the omega onto his back to clean him up. 

Through Din’s attentions, Luke doesn’t wake; he squirms a little and scrunches his nose when the alpha’s cum escapes onto a towel he has waiting, but otherwise sleeps peacefully, not reacting at all when Din returns from the refresher with a new wet cloth. It’s only when Din lies back down and curls onto his side to stare at his bedmate, besotted, that the Jedi stirs. Blindly, he searches Din out, managing to roll into the alpha’s arms with a little snuffle. He tucks his head under the taller man’s chin, fitting there like a puzzle-piece. 

Lying there trying not to give in to the siren call of sleep so he can watch Luke just a little longer, fighting against his heavy eyelids, it occurs to Din that he’s in great danger of falling in love. 

The last fully formed thought he has that night is I’m fucked.

He’s surprisingly at peace with it.   

Luke is still dead to the world when Din wakes up. 

He blinks the grit out of his eyes. He’s hard again, likely as a result of being pressed up near the omega for hours - it was probably the morning wood that woke him. He doesn’t feel the need to do anything about it though, still pleasantly satisfied from the night before. The sun is streaming in through the windows, the jungle outside noisier in the light of day with bugs and birds trilling loudly. Everything is just…nice. 

Propping himself up on an elbow, Din studies the man next to him. The Mandalorian always sleeps perfectly still, trained as a foundling to wake at a moment's notice, but the Jedi has moved onto his back during the night, splayed out and snoring softly. His scent is different, now that his heat is over. Less sweet. More of that sun paste and blue sky. Definitely something oddly Tatooinian about it. 

The bruises and bites Din left behind on his neck are darker now, too. In the morning light, he can see that there’s a ring of pink, irritated skin around the steel patch still protecting the omega’s neck from where his scruff scratched him up. He only feels a little bad; mostly, the marks he left make him want to purr possessively. Tracing the trail of hickeys that lead down the omega’s chest with his eyes, Din considers what he’s going t-

The Jedi suddenly sits bolt upright in bed. 

Din yelps in fright, startling backwards - he scrambles to get up too, heart racing with worry. But Luke just…sits there, statue-like, with his eyes still closed and his brow set in a deepening frown. The alpha is about to ask what’s wrong when Luke intones, in a voice grave with prophecy, “Grogu is about to wake up.”  

Eyes never opening, he starts to blindly shuffle his way off the bed. 

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing??” Din asks, throwing an arm out to stop him. 

“Gotta…gotta make breakfast,” Luke mumbles. His hair is sticking up wildly. The alpha isn’t convinced that the Jedi is actually awake. “Gotta make eggs for Grogu.” 

Exasperated, Din manhandles him into lying back down. “I’ll take care of it, cyar’ika. Go back to sleep, okay?” Luke makes a small noise of protest, but it’s easily quelled by Din’s palm on his forehead, stroking his messy bangs away from his face. “It’s okay, baby. Just rest for me.”  

“Mm’kay,” Luke hums, turning towards the scent of him. His frown fades a little more with every pass of Din’s hand. Mumbling something out that might be ‘thank you’, he falls back asleep.

The Mandalorian sighs. Now that the adrenaline of Luke trying to give him a heart attack has worn off, he takes stock of his surroundings. It reeks of sex in here, so he’s going to have to bring breakfast to Grogu instead - though he doubts the kid will understand what the smell is, Din still feels uncomfortable with the idea of bringing him into the room where he’s been railing his teacher all night. He’s going to need a shower, too, before he can look Grogu in the eye again. Looking around for his flightsuit, he winces at the way his armor is littered carelessly around the room. The Armorer would beat him black and blue if she could see it. 

He showers and dresses quickly, piecing his beskar back together on his person with much more reverence than he took it off with. For a little while, he attempts to be quiet, but it becomes apparent when he accidentally drops a saucepan on the floor and gets no reaction that Luke is out cold for the foreseeable future, so he goes about making a tray for himself and the kid of green fried eggs and some sort of instant porridge he finds in the cupboards without worry. 

When he walks into the nursery, Grogu is waiting patiently in his crib, peeking over the top of it. The sight of Din without his helmet has the kid bouncing up and down excitedly. 

“Hey there, good morning, Grogu,” Din smiles. He sets their breakfast aside so he can lift the child out of his crib. He bumps their foreheads together before sitting his foundling on the floor. 

Grogu says gwuh, pointing in the direction of Luke’s hut. 

“It’s okay, Master Luke is all better now,” Din tells him, pushing the food closer to the kid. “But he’s still pretty tired, so we’re going to let him sleep. It’s just going to be you and me today. Sound good?”  

Apparently happy with that, Grogu launches himself at the food claws first. 

Most of the morning is spent with Grogu running between things he wants to show Din. Some of them are more self-explanatory than others, like the classroom and the training hall in the buildings the alpha hasn’t been in before. Others have him politely nodding at the kid’s burbling, unsure why this particular puddle of mud is so important or that particular boulder deserves a full five minutes of babbled explanation, but he follows along anyway. 

Once Grogu has circled back around to their first stop and starts showing Din everything a second time, the alpha puts a stop to the tour in favor of presenting the kid with the beskar chainmail he had made for him. He helps Grogu put it on - it’s a little big, but the kid will grow into it. (Eventually. Right? Din hopes so.) The kid coos at the armor, spinning in circles to make the loops of metal clink together; he suspects that Grogu is more interested in the noise it makes and the way the beskar shines in the sunlight than the purpose or meaning behind it, but that’s okay. He packs it away with the rest of the kid’s small collection of possessions for when he’s a little older.  

Grogu’s stomach rumbling marks lunchtime, so Din creeps back into Luke’s hut to find food. The omega is still fast asleep, curled up peacefully in the spot where the alpha slept all night; he leaves him to rest, returning to the kid with rehydrated bread and an exotic selection of fruit cups. 

In the afternoon, he spends a while showing Grogu the N1, pointing out all of the modifications he and Peli put in. The foundling nods very seriously at each one, pretending that he has any understanding of engineering. Eventually Din gives up on that and takes him for a spin, swooping above the clouds while Grogu squeals and waves his arms about. He throws up his lunch all over himself when Din does a triple loop-de-loop and then goes right back to cheering as if it never happened. 

“Well, I guess now we’ve both made each other puke this week,” Din sighs when they’re back on solid ground, dabbing at Grogu’s little robes with a wet cloth. “Let’s call it even, huh?” 

The kid burbles agreeably. 

Soon after, the astromech wakes up and chases the foundling around the courtyard with increasingly shrill beeps, until Grogu grudgingly agrees to settle into some kind of meditation, sitting cross-legged on top of the boulder he showed the Mandalorian earlier. Din can’t join in, but he sits at the base of the rock in solidarity, hoping it might help the kid somehow. It’s peaceful here, wind blowing between the trees and bugs trilling in the heat of the afternoon; Grogu seems like he’ll be occupied for a while, so, helmet back on just in case, Din lets himself doze. 

By the time he wakes up, the sky is starting to pink with sunset and Grogu is in his lap, having given up on meditation in favor of getting in on the nap action at some point. Even the astromech seems to have joined in, powered down in standby mode at his side.  

Din looks up at the sound of a door sliding shut, and sees Luke approaching with a tray in his hands. The Jedi moving around must have woken him - he’s dressed in tidy black robes that hide his neck, hair still damp from a shower. Grogu stirs when Din moves, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, but the moment he catches sight of the tray he’s wide awake, practically falling out of the alpha’s lap to run excited circles around the Jedi’s feet.

“Ah,” Luke sighs when he notices Din’s helmet, smiling ruefully. “‘Tomorrow, I forget’, right. That’s okay. Brought dinner for you guys, but I guess I’ll have to close my eyes while you eat, huh?”  

“Thank you,” Din says, taking the tray - there are two bowls of something spicy and meaty on it. He feels guilty about having to hide his face from Luke again, something unfair about him still being able to see the Jedi’s, but…he’s bent the rules enough, lately. Too far already, according to his tribe. The omega lies down in the grass, flat on his back, and closes his eyes, content to do nothing but let the evening breeze ruffle his hair. 

“You’re looking better,” the alpha offers. The bags under Luke’s eyes aren’t gone, but they’re nowhere near as dark as when Din first arrived.  

“Mhm. Thanks to you,” Luke smirks suggestively, and the resulting blush on Din’s face has nothing to do with the spice in the food. “Will you be staying for a while?” 

Din looks wistfully at Grogu. The moment is only a little ruined by the way the kid is stuffing food into his face with the ferocity of a wampa. The red sauce smeared all over his mouth like a bloodstain doesn’t help the picture he makes either. “I can’t,” Din sighs, “I’ve got a job to get back to. Promised to help out a friend.” 

Luke nods peaceably. “Can you stay long enough to put Grogu to bed again?” he asks. “He’d like that, I think; he’s missed you.” 

“Sure,” Din says, past the lump in his throat. “No rush.” 

While Din tips his helmet up to eat, Grogu toddles over to Luke, batting at the Jedi Master’s face and saying bababa very seriously. Luke scrunches up his nose at the hand shaped prints of sauce the kid is getting all over him, but otherwise tolerates it admirably. 

“Yes, I’m okay now,” he murmurs reassuringly, reaching up to stroke Grogu’s ears. “Your daddy took veeery good care of me.” Din chokes on his food, thumping at his chest to get it to go the right way down. “Oh? No, buddy, I’m not sleeping - my eyes are just closed while he eats.” 

“No more innuendo in front of the kid, I’m begging you,” the alpha says when he can breathe again. 

“Aw, he doesn’t understand,” Luke grins. He lifts Grogu up into the air with a lazy wave of his hand, floating him in a slow circle that makes the kid whoop. “Pretty sure he hatched from an egg anyway. Didn’t you! Little egg, little baby egg!” he crows, letting Grogu drop into his waiting hands. The foundling squeals, clapping his claws for Luke to do it again.   

Din concentrates very hard on finishing his food, lest he do something stupid. Like propose. 

After dinner, with his helmet back in place, Luke encourages Grogu to show the Mandalorian some of his new tricks. Din is suitably impressed by how much he’s improved at making things float. He’s less pleased when Grogu reveals his ability to hop from place to place using the force to boost him up high, and he immediately starts to fret about all the trouble the kid can get into with it. 

Between dinner and jumping around, Grogu tires himself out, flopping sleepily onto Din’s thigh. Luke leaves them be while he gets Grogu settled in his crib. The alpha manages to extract a promise from the kid not to use his new powers for evil (Din’s definition of evil being “reaching cupboards he’s not supposed to get into”, a concept Grogu may or may not grasp). The foundling doesn’t fall asleep as quickly tonight, but he doesn’t seem upset with Din’s departure, either; he runs his fingers up and down Grogu’s ears for a long time, with slow, gentle strokes like he used to on the Razor Crest when the kid wouldn’t settle. Eventually it lulls the foundling to sleep, and Din is forced to admit to himself that it’s time to go. 

The Jedi is waiting patiently outside, watching the stars. He smiles when Din steps out, walking with him to the N1. 

“Sorry I slept all day,” says Luke bashfully. “I was hoping to talk with you more, spend some time together, but. I guess I needed the rest more than I thought.” 

Something like hope blooms in Din’s chest at the words, soft and fragile. “That’s alright. Grogu kept me occupied. And you were pretty worn out.”

"Yeah I was,” Luke grins lavisciously, giving the alpha a pointed onceover. 

Din rolls his eyes. “Five days,” he reminds him. 

“I’m telling you it was the dick,” the omega insists, cackling when Din swats at him half-heartedly. 

“Hey. Before you go though,” Luke says, sobering up and stepping far enough into Din’s personal space that the alpha has to bend his head down to meet his eyes. “Thank you for getting me through that heat. Really. I’m glad Grogu brought you to me.” 

Din smiles under his helmet, hoping Luke can tell. “I meant what I said. It was a great honor.” 

“You know, I’d be happy to return the favor some time,” Luke offers, looking up at him from between his lashes coyly. “Next time you’re due for a rut, maybe.” 

“Yeah?” Din husks, curling his hands around Luke’s waist where the obi cinches his robe tight. 

“Mhm. Or when you just want some,” the Jedi runs a hand down the Mandalorian’s stomach, down, down to his groin, kneading suggestively with the heel of his palm, “company.” 

A deep purr rumbles out of Din before he can help it, arching his hips into the touch. He drops his head and lets their foreheads meet in a keldabe kiss a little harder than he means to. “Careful, Jedi, or you’re going to start something I’m not going to be able to stop.” 

Luke grins. “Something to think about when you’re in hyperspace, then,” he says, giving Din’s cock one final squeeze and then stepping out of the alpha’s hold on light feet. 

Din groans irritably, tipping his chin up to the sky. Damn tease. He forces himself to turn around and walk the last few steps to his ship, but he doesn’t get far before Luke calls out to him again.

“Din,” he says, more seriously, smile soft and sweet and hands clasped behind his back. “May the force be with you.” 

The Mandalorian nods back. “And you, Luke.”

He climbs into the N1 and lifts off into the clouds, looking down longingly as Luke, Grogu’s nursery, the school, and the jungle below all gradually fade out of sight. The ship pulls smoothly out of the atmosphere, and Din sets a course for Tatooine. He has to do the route calculations twice, half of his mind more interested in working out the approximate length of time between his last rut and the next, but eventually, the N1 rockets forward, the bright blue of hyperspace smearing past outside. 

Once he’s sure all systems are functioning normally, he engages the autopilot. He parts his flightsuit and pulls out the semi Luke left him with, gripping the shaft tight and breathing in the last of the scent of slick still clinging to his mustache. 

He’s got a few hours before he has to figure out how he’s going to explain the spring in his step to Boba and Fennec, after all.