Chapter Text
A lone X-wing arcs across the sky, a dark shape against the light reflected off the Mandalorian moon of Concordia.
“Red five to Sundari docking control,” Luke speaks into his headset, voice directly transmitted to the domed capital city of Mandalore. “Permission to land?”
There’s a long moment of static before a response comes in. “All clear, Red Five,” says a choppy voice in Luke’s ears. “ Proceed to Docking Bay A-2.”
The transparisteel panels roll slowly open, allowing him entrance to the glass-domed Mandalorian capital of Sundari. The flight controllers guide him in with easy movements, directing him to the familiar docking port just outside the royal residence.
As he engages the landing thrusters, Luke Skywalker lets out a long, unsteady sigh of relief. Hands, usually as steady as the steel in his X-wing, shake visibly, one more indicator of his distress.
He touches down next to the Mudhorn, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. It never seemed to bother Din to travel in such an old ship, but Luke prefers his own smaller, sleeker craft.
R2 whistles, dislodging from the astromech port with a faint thud. Luke pushes up against the canopy, movements laced with an ease from years of experience and familiarity in the same cockpit.
Clambering down, Luke turns and sees a small party of Mandalorians -- two he recognizes, one he doesn’t – coming to greet him from the main bay. He lifts his gloved hand in greeting, then hoists Grogu up prominently and visibly into his arms, the small child chirping against his chest with the warming rays of recognition flowing through the Force.
A helmeted Bo-Katan Kryze, in the lead, stops a few feet from him. “Master Jedi,” she offers, guarded. “We had no communications to indicate you’d be stopping in. Your quarters have a layer of dust on all the surfaces, I’m sure.”
“Well,” Luke shrugs, eyes just this side of desperate. “Grogu insisted. And I do bring new information to discuss with the Mand’alor.”
A younger Mandalorian, one of those who don’t seem to insist on their helmet being worn for most interactions, steps forward, visibly curious, brown eyes wide. “Is that Grogu?” he asks, voice cracking on the last syllable. “I haven’t met him.” He catches himself, stammering almost immediately, clearly having been coached through proper procedure and remembering much too late for it to be helpful. “I – Lady Kryze, I’m sor–”
“Relax, Finn,” Bo-Katan says quietly, if a little snidely. “No need to stand on ceremony when the Skywalkers are known for flaunting it.”
Ah, Luke thinks, one of those moods.
“I do apologize, friends,” Luke says, “but if you would be so kind as to show us to our quarters, Grogu has some catching up to do with his father.” He lets out a loud yawn, covering it – somewhat belatedly – with his hand. “And I have some to do with my sleeping mat.”
Finn darts around Bo-Katan, crouching and wiggling his fingers. “Hey, little guy!” He looks up at Bo-Katan. “Can I take him to the Mand’alor, please?”
“We’ll all go,” Bo-Katan says, as though the matter has already been decided.
“But you can hold him,” Luke offers up, smirking at the older woman as he hands over the child and Grogu pats at Finn’s chestplate with a small three-clawed hand, burbling.
Finn lifts the child like he’s a precious, breakable object. Luke smiles down at him, about to needle Bo-Katan back for her previous comments about Skywalkers , when a hot wave of dizziness washes over him.
Just like the ones he had while flying, the same kind of heated crush that creeps up on him when he’s unaware. A weightless lurch that holds him, suspended and reeling, as though the ground has ceased to exist. The ache grows as well, and he closes his eyes for just a brief moment.
“Skywalker,” Sabine interjects, sounding worried. Luke purses his lips, cursing internally. The third member of the welcoming trio and by far the most empathic, it should be no surprise that she notices immediately. “You’re not all right. Let’s get you to Medical.”
“Sabine, I’m fine,” says Luke, ducking his head. “Just tired. It’s been a rough flight.” He turns his head, holding her gaze. “Mand’alor, then bed. I can handle that.”
-
Din is midway through a meeting with the agricultural council when a sharp cry echoes through the meeting hall.
“BUIR!”
Din’s gaze snaps up immediately, seeing the small one in Finn’s arms, and he drops his datapad without a second thought. He moves to meet them both at once, scooping Grogu up and out of the startled younger man’s arms, offering the other arm to Finn in a brief embrace of thanks.
Din holds his son close for a moment, then turns to Luke and the entourage. His eyes are hidden behind the visor, of course, but Luke knows without seeing that there’s a smile on his face.
“Well,” Din says, voice modulator flattening his tonal delivery as always. “Looks like the little one’s calling the shots on your travel now, hm?”
“He’s insistent on certain things,” Luke replies, diplomatic. “His wishes may not be the only reason we’re here, but they’re certainly one of them.” He licks his lips faintly, the ache pulsing again in his abdomen. He wishes things were moving faster, but that’s hardly proper.
“Oh?” Din asks, a subtle tilt to his helmet conveying his curiosity, but the array of officials behind him are already bickering and muttering amongst themselves. A dry note of exasperation ripples through the Force around him. “I must return to the meeting, but I’ll come by your quarters as soon as we can… come to an agreement on tax incentives for spelt production.” Din winces, hiking Grogu up on one hip. His helmet turns towards his son, and despite not being able to see them, Luke feels the moment his eyes shift away. “And you, ad’ika, will be a big help in ending this meeting faster.”
Grogu squeals, smacking the beskar of his father’s cheek panel happily. Finn steps away to Bo-Katan’s side, warm pulses in the Force radiating from his happiness as he watches the pure joy of the child.
Luke smiles, then almost stumbles as he moves to turn away, dizziness returning. He feels a corresponding flush to his skin and flinches away from the sensation. He waited far too long for this. It’s not going to work, he’s going to have to trust Leia to lead the school, to lead the Jedi order, he’s going to -
All at once, Sabine is next to him, catching his elbow in a firm but kind grip. “Luke,” she says, low and even, but he can feel her worry and uncertainty bubbling over. “Hey. I don’t care if you’re just tired, that’s twice now.” She turns to face Din, back rigid, eyes stony beneath her painted beskar. Her next words are close to a command despite who she’s saying them to. “Mand’alor, I’m taking him to Medical.”
A wave of concern washes towards Luke from Din, but Luke feels the other man immediately throw his emotional shields up, a trick Luke now regrets teaching him. “Understood,” Din responds after a beat. Every part of his face is hidden, and yet he still conveys a sense of frowning. “Luke. Go hydrate and rest. I won’t bother you tonight - I need to catch up with my son anyway.” He looks down at Grogu, a tendril of affection unable to be hidden, then back to the Jedi. ”Caf tomorrow?”
Luke offers a weak smile. “It’s a date.”
Bo-Katan stiffens, Din just chuckles, a single huffed-out laugh that conveys a universe of repressed emotion. “I’ll see you then.”
-
Luke, practically frog-marched by Sabine, is taken to Ursa, the resident palace medic, a friend of his from his first visits to Mandalor. The wing is quiet but neat, her efficiency and precision of care evident.
An older, unarmored Beta woman with gray hair, bundled back in a tight knot, she assesses multiple vitals at once, then tilts her head for Sabine to leave. “Get,” says the older woman. “Some things are private. I’ll com you if you need to come back.”
“ Fine , mom,” Sabine grumbles, and stalks out to the hallway, radiating irritation through her scent as much as her posture.
With a long sigh, Ursa places her scanner back on her belt, and folds her arms, eyes firm. “I have a feeling you already know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
Luke tries to offer up a cheeky smile. “I’m the perfect picture of health?” He asks, before his face drops sharply. “I know, Ursa,” he says after a moment, more overtly vulnerable than he’s allowed himself to be since he touched down on Sundari. He feels himself deflate in wordless self-deprecation; shoulders slumping, his scent shifting into something meek and apologetic. It must be really bad if Luke can smell himself like this. He squirms where he’s sitting, legs dangling, tilting his head to show his neck in deference to her before he’s even aware of what he’s doing.
There’s a long, hung moment as Ursa narrows her eyes at him.
“How did you let it get this bad?” Ursa murmurs, as quietly as she can manage. She takes a step closer to him, eyes darting sideways, ever watchful of listening ears. “Luke… your bloodwork is in the toxic range.”
With a sigh, Luke pulls his ever-present bottle of little orange pills out of his robe pocket. He tosses the bottle and she catches it, frowning. He offers her a pained smile. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
Her face darkens into fury as she reads the label.
“Luke,” she begins, and he braces. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that omega suppressants, especially heavy-duty doses like these, are toxic long-term.” Her eyes flash, furious. “You could have died on the flight here, your adenosine levels are so poor!”
Luke sits up, sharp, his gaze steady. “Ursa, suppressants are a requirement for me to run the school. I can’t be going into heats when I’m the only adult supervising children.”
“Banthashit!” Ursa snaps. “They’re punishing you for your biology. If they let you have normal heats, you’d be aware and coherent for all but twelve hours every three months. Instead, this sort of chemical buildup is –” She cuts herself off. “... Luke. You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up with broken bones when your heat finally hits.”
“That’s why I came here!” Luke yells, then quickly lowers his voice, ashamed but desperate. Desperate to be heard but also to be finally filled . “That’s...why I came here. If someone’s going to get me through a heat without either of us getting harmed, it’s going to be someone in beskar.”
A long silence fills the room more loudly than the faint beeping of diagnostic machines in use down the hallway.
Ursa tilts her head. “Have you told Din?”
Another pause, this one worse to break.
“No,” Luke mumbles. He curls in on himself, unthinking, unable to look her in the eye. “He...he doesn’t want me, Ursa.” Disbelieving skepticism emanates from her in waves in the Force and in her scent, orange peel spiking, and Luke lets out a sigh that’s far too dramatic for someone of his age and stature to be making. “He doesn’t . He’s… he says I smell… sour .” A spell of dizziness hits once again - he swallows against the roll of nausea. “... and not just once. Multiple times. We’re not –” Luke hefts a sigh, throat tight and cheeks flushing. “We’re incompatible.” Even without looking at her, Luke is acutely aware of Ursa’s exasperation, a sour ripple in the Force rolling towards him alongside her disbelief.
“Or,” Ursa huffs, “that’s just the suppressants affecting your scent, you nerfherder .” Luke raises his head, blinking at her, and the look Ursa shoots him is both pitying and pleading. “Please. Skywalker. The two of you should just fuck, for the love of the Mand’alor. You need to get through this heat, he needs some serious endorphinal release.” Ursa leans forward conspiratorially. “He acts like a mudhorn himself, the di’kut, when you go so long without visiting.”
Luke allows himself to think of Din that way - eyes he’s seen so rarely focused on him in affection, attraction, lust - and shoves it deep down, quashes it as quickly as he can. It’s foolish to think such thoughts when they’re so untrue.
“He doesn’t want me,” Luke repeats, certain and sad. “...I will ask him for help, though. See if he has anyone in mind.”
Ursa smirks, a stray thought appearing and wrapping itself around her mind like a happy dianoga. “I suspect more people will be interested than you think.”
-
Not long after that, Luke leaves and begins making his way to his quarters, Sabine back at his heels as soon as he exits the medical wing to ensure his intact arrival.
With a quiet word of thanks, Luke slips into his room, and within a few minutes he’s sinking down into his sleeping mat with an exhalation of quiet gratitude.
When Luke was nineteen, Leia and Han introduced him to the world of mattresses, but he’s never been very good at relaxing on a surface so… soft. So fluffy.
Here, the mats are sturdy, not soft - similar to the culture of the people. More than that… Luke is safe here. Knows that, deep down, with a certainty he couldn’t put into words if he tried.
The same magnetism that drew him here to Mandalore seems to pull him down and out of wakefulness, nestling into the basic, well-made blankets. The air smells familiar and homey, filtered and supplemented with offworld oxygen, but with the lightest trace of sand and earth still detectable beneath it. Redder and earthier than Tatooine, more grounding than the recycled air of a starship.
Luke closes his eyes, and before he knows it, he’s sunk into a deep, much-needed sleep.
-
When Luke rouses several hours later, Paz is waiting outside his rooms to bring him to his - his Mand’alor. If the large man notices anything, his flushed skin or odd scent, he doesn’t say a word, solid and stoic as ever. Mandalorian helmets, Luke knows, have heat/rut filters embedded.
An extra layer of protection, and one of the many reasons he came to this planet over most.
Paz leads him to one of the many sitting rooms scattered throughout the palace, and as they enter Luke’s eyes land on Din, signing documents under Bo-Katan’s careful eye. His armored shoulders relax visibly when Luke walks inside.
And Luke… Luke wants to know what he smells like, under that helmet. Not – not just the barely-there hints of his scent that he’s caught before, in the handful of times Din’s taken it off in front of him, dampened and distorted by his own suppressants. Wants to press his face to the crook of Din’s bare neck where the smell of him is strongest.
He inhales, sharp and under his breath, flexing the fingers of his left hand at his side.
“Luke,” Din says. He discards his stylus, getting to his feet. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He clears his throat, and Bo-Katan rolls her eyes, then strolls out, documents in hand.
The doors close behind her, and they’re alone. Din moves as if to come around the desk to him, then stops, radiating uncertainty.
“... thank you for bringing Grogu to visit,” Din says, stilted. “We’ve enjoyed spending time together after so many months apart.”
“Of course,” Luke replies. The back of his neck prickles.
“But that’s not why you came.”
“It isn’t.” Luke considers his options, then just lays it out, hands spreading on the table between them. He hefts out a sigh, irritated at himself for his own discomfort. It’s not polite to talk about designations in public, but it’s just the two of them here. “... you know I’m an omega. Well, I haven’t – haven’t had a heat in almost five years, but the medics tell me there won’t be much suppressants or marital aids can do for this one.” He grimaces, rubbing his chin. “An unfortunate side effect of omegahood, when working with children - your body makes it hard for you not to produce your own.”
The words hang between them, oddly charged.
“What do you need from me, Luke?” Din’s voice is quiet, but serious. He reaches out, taking Luke’s hand in his gloved one, but doesn’t hold it tight. After a moment, he lets go, the air between them shifting into something more uncertain. “Do you need me to take Grogu while your heat is managed with a…” Din clears his throat, the sound picked up by his vocoder. “With a… suitable bedfellow.”
“Well, that’s one option,” Luke mutters. He hefts a sigh. “Leia suggested Han handle my heat with me like he did on Hoth, but they have their own children now. And I didn’t –” He cuts himself off, feeling exposed. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Luke feels a rush of low emotion rising in Din, but it is quickly stifled. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Maybe you’ll find someone here,” Din says, the tone of his voice difficult to read. He cocks his helmet to one side. “You’re regarded as a leader here. A force to be reckoned with. There are many who would be …interested.”
“I suppose.” Luke worries his lip with his teeth, then huffs through his nose. “I certainly won’t be worse off than I was in the hands of the New Republic.”
Din stiffens. “What. Happened.” A deep, low growl rolls from his throat, as though without his notice. and the bitter scent seeps into the air between them despite his armor, the smell of of protective Alpha emanating from him at the same time a vow of retribution, of violence towards any who dared to hurt him, ripples through the Force.
Luke swallows, vision blurring a little at the edges as the dizziness comes back in a rush. He feels himself wavering and catches himself with the Force, hoping Din doesn’t notice the way he has to actually hold himself up to keep his legs from giving out from under him.
A force to be reckoned with? Ha , Luke thinks in disdain, barely able to restrain himself from showing his throat.
“Haven’t you noticed I’ve never had a heat around you?” Luke asks, voice sounding small to his own ears. “It was...required of me.” The sound that escapes his throat is half sigh, half laugh. “There are conditions that come with New Republic funding. They fund my school, I take suppressants to avoid ‘distracting’ the students.” Bitterness creeps into Luke’s voice. “I am intimately familiar with my own biology, Din. I didn’t think that would be a concern. But now – now they’re not working anymore. And I…I thought if anyone could help, that help would be found on Mandalore.”
There’s a long pause as Din nods, fresh resolve settling in the lines of his armor.
“If you need an Alpha, by all means – let’s find you one.” He taps his datapad thoughtfully. “All of Mandalor thinks you a worthy mate. You must know that.”
Except you, two thoughts from two minds echo simultaneously.
“Thank you.” Luke folds his hands in front of him. “How would you suggest we go about this?”
“Well.” Din cocks his head, helmet glinting as it catches in the light. “Mandalorians like nothing more than a good fight.”
-
The absolute Alphaness of the whole proposal has Luke irritable, but the ripple of warmth under his skin is not abating and he needs to be satisfied yesterday . He sits, prim, on the edge of the arena, feeling very much like a prize to be won. Well, quite apt, he acknowledges, sighing faintly.
The rules are simple, as in much of Mandalorian culture. Two enter, then fight to first blood -- once skin or bone is broken, the loser must withdraw and a new challenger appears.
From his place at the sidelines, Luke’s neck is wrapped firmly in a wide leather band. To discourage any unintended mating bites , the Armorer told him as she fastened it around his neck, amusement glinting through her Force presence. Satisfaction in heat only -- the plot of some kind of ridiculous holosmut. He touches the leather occasionally, restless and shifting as he waits, visibly flushed all over. He aches , want curling and twisting at his gut, and he doesn’t care anymore who helps him as long as they do it soon. Luke needs to be touched . Needs to be –
He tilts his head in confusion as the first competitor enters the arena, and it’s –
It’s Din, of all people. Luke frowns. What would be the purpose of the Mand’alor to enter such a competition? It’s dangerous, damn it, and stupid. Luke may not have his sister’s political acumen, but even he knows that this kind of move could result in political upheaval.
The referees count off, and the fight begins.
Din moves fast, vicious, and in seconds, his opponent clutches a broken wrist. Luke blinks in shock, but already a new challenger is moving forward. In a similar action, Din slashes the challenger’s knee at the gap in their armor. With a shout of pain, the challenger is quickly written off.
It lasts almost four hours.
It’s agonizing to watch, Luke’s stomach swooping and clutching with every warrior Din takes down, every blow he deflects before surging back forward. No rival approaches the level of the Mand’alor, and Luke begins to understand the political advantage of such a competition in a battle-oriented culture - no one can touch him . As he asserts his claim, he reinforces his throne.
As the arena clears further, Luke swallows and squirms at the implication of Din being the last man standing. His heat remains just under his skin, pulsing, and the last challenger appears.
“Mand’alor,” the woman in armor calls, and offers her hands in the air, and is that – is that Sabine ? “I do not wish to fight you. I wish to urge you – satisfy the omega Jedi, yes. But then claim him as your consort.” Luke feels his eyes go wide, lips parting in surprise. “Mandalore would benefit greatly from such an alliance.”
Din, chest heaving, shakes his head. “The Jedi has no such interest. I could not do that in a time of need for him.”
Sabine rips off her helmet and throws it at him like a bowling ball; it clangs into Din’s pauldron and he winces, but remains upright. “You idiot, he’s your ideal! Just fuck him already!”
Din’s visor focuses on Luke, and the Omega swallows at the sheer intensity.
“This is a matter for discussion after his heat’s been sated. Now,” Din levels his gaze at the surrounding stands, “are there any remaining challengers to the Omega Jedi’s heat?”
The silence is as loud as Sabine’s helmet-toss.
“Very well.” Din makes his way across the arena to Luke, still frozen in his seat, and offers him a hand. “Master Jedi -- Luke -- I would be honored to satisfy your heat at this time. Do you accept?”
Luke extends his hand to meet Din’s, letting himself be pulled to his feet. He can feel the weight of the entire arena’s eyes on them, watching, and yet still there’s an intimacy to the moment as Din pulls him closer.
Luke’s eyes flutter shut as Din leans closer, the cool press of his helmet against Luke’s forehead making him all the more aware of the flush on top and under his skin.
“You…didn’t want me,” Luke murmurs faintly, quiet enough that only Din can hear. If the man is doing this out of some misguided sense of duty, Luke has to give him one last chance to back out. It’s getting harder to think by the moment with Din so close, catching whiffs of his scent through his armor. It’s laced with desire, and affection, and Luke has to clutch at Din’s vambrace to stay standing. “Why?” he manages. “Especially now?”
The press of soft leather gloves against his cheek makes him open his eyes again. He looks up at Din, through his visor and right at the place where he knows Din’s eyes are.
“You’ve always smelled… strange,” Din murmurs, his vocoder catching the slight hitch in his breath as he swallows. “But now…” His fingers curl at Luke’s cheek. When he speaks again, his voice is low. “Even with the helmet’s filters, I can’t abide the thought of you with any other.”
Luke makes a small, broken sound in the back of his throat.
“Please,” Luke whispers, practically a whine. “Din – Mand’alor – I need –”
Din shifts them, wrapping an arm around Luke’s waist, keeping him steady on trembling legs. “With me,” Din murmurs, guiding him gently.
The crowd parts for them as they leave, a slow whisper, then murmur, following.
-
Luke waits, impatient, rubbing his abdomen absently. The ache is worse than before, and he swallows thickly, willing it to subside. Outside, Din mutters to the Mandalorians standing guard outside his quarters.
It’s hard to focus in here, the whole room thick with the tantalizing smell of alpha. Safe alpha, kind. The alpha who’s going to take care of him, to give him what he needs.
Din is back at his side a moment later, hand on his lower back, closing the door firmly. “All right, they’re aware. We’ll be in isolation for three days.”
“Good. Clothes off, now,” Luke pants, pupils blown. “It’s hurting. ”
“Okay. Okay, mesh’la.” Din comes in close and then lifts him up easily. Luke yelps, then groans with relief and anticipation as Din tosses him back onto the bed, into the nest of pillows and blankets. Good alpha, kind alpha, had this all right here ready and waiting for them. “Can you get your own clothes off, or do you need my help?”
Luke whimpers, but fumbles at his robes as Din removes each piece of armor, placing each with care on its stand, then unzips his flight suit underneath.
His scent hits air, and Luke’s mouth waters. He fumbles with his pants, fingers shaking.
“Karkin’ belt, I can’t -”
“I’ve got you.” Either time is stuttering, or Din can teleport, and he deftly undoes Luke’s layers until he’s bare except for the leather strap at his neck. A bare hand cradles the side of Luke’s face and he leans into the touch, obliging when the hand tilts his head to look at him. Din’s eyes are bright, brows knitted in worry. “Luke. Look at me.”
Luke realizes, belatedly, that Din’s removed his helmet. It’s rare for him to do so – only a handful of times in the years they’ve known each other -- and almost exclusively for ceremonial reasons. “You’re…naked…”
Din stifles a chuckle. “Well, yes. That too. I just…” he huffs a breath. “I want to make sure that you remember you’re in control. Faceless…didn’t seem right here.” He runs a hand down Luke’s flank, and the younger man shivers in anticipation.
“Din. I’m very glad you’re being slow and careful, but by all the little gods, I’ve needed a cock in me for the last three days. Get going, or I will.”
Din snorts, mouth curling, but moves to obey. The smell of alpha at his throat is so unbearably appealing Luke can’t help but surge up off the bed and press his face into Din’s throat, nose at his scent gland, their groans mingling as a sweet surge of pheromones spills over Luke’s tongue.
The ache of Luke’s cock is nothing compared to the agony of emptiness between his legs. He’s been wet for hours, thighs and ass dripping with slick. He needs this, needs to be fucked, needs to be filled, needs –
With a shuddering breath, Din’s warm hands take hold of him, positioning Luke’s legs around his waist. The impending satisfaction wrenches a keen of want from Luke’s his throat.
“Shh,” Din hushes, and Luke stifles a sob at the hot, thick press of his cock against him. “It’s okay. We have hours.”
Then, a gentle hand on Luke’s waist, his cock breaches Luke’s entrance and begins to push inside, and Luke’s lips fall open. He can feel every centimeter of his cock as it carves out a home inside of him, filling him up, right where he belongs.
Luke throws his head back with a high noise of near-delirious bliss – then pulls his legs taut around Din, seating Din’s cock inside him abruptly. Din groans in surprise but doesn’t falter, grinding his hips forward in a slow but determined rhythm. Luke keens happily, seeing stars, content for a time to revel in the unbelievable heat, the pressure of having an alpha’s cock inside him.
It doesn’t last long. With a needy groan, Luke tightens his legs and – with a combination of his own strength and judicious use of the Force – flips them over. Din grunts in surprise as he’s pushed back into the bed.
Licking his lips, Luke hitches his hips in small circles, half-feral as he holds Din’s gaze.
“I’m going to ride you,” Luke tells him, the words coming out in a slur. “And you –” He tightens around Din’s cock, eyelashes fluttering with pleasure at both the sensation and the expression of unfettered need that spills over Din’s face as he does it. “You’re going to like it.”
“Whatever you want, mesh’la,” Din gasps, already a little breathless.
The pace Luke sets is fast, almost frenetic. Muscles in his legs working hard and trembling as he moves, hips jerking roughly, just this side of desperate. And it’s good, so good, enough to make him whine and throw his head back as his inner walls flutter, abdomen tightening as pleasure pools at the base of his spine. The rest of the world slips through his fingers as it narrows down to just this, just them , to the haze of heat and their bodies moving together, chasing their pleasure.
He’s vaguely aware that there are words spilling from his lips, interspersed with whines that are practically a sob as his orgasm builds inside of him. Alpha, he whines, barely coherent, alpha, alpha, please –
With a hormone-driven growl, Din wrests control back from him, rolling them both over hard. Luke whines again, scrabbling at Din’s chest, but then Din takes hold of his wrists, pushing them into the bed. He changes the angle of his hips, thrusting back in, and Luke’s eyes roll back in his head.
“Mesh’la,” Din heaves, unrelenting as he pounds into him, again, again. Luke shudders, straining, fingers straining beneath where they’re trapped beneath the hard grip of Din’s hands. “Ner kair’ta, ner runi, ner cyar’ika –”
With a wail, Luke throws his head back as pleasure crashes over him, cock sputtering untouched across Din’s chest. Din doesn’t falter, fucking him through it, as Luke soars through the aftershocks and sings out into the Force. Pounding into him for another long minute before he groans, hips stuttering and knot beginning to swell, Din bites down hard on the leather band on Luke’s neck. Luke mewls, feeling like he’s coming all over again as Din knot pushes inside and stays there, filling him to the brim like nothing else in the galaxy can. Luke’s cock twitches and he moans at the rush of Din’s come filling him up, hitching his hips up to work Din through his pleasure, milking his knot for every drop.
Luke collapses back into their nest with a slow shiver, eyes closing. Hazily, he is aware of Din releasing his hands, settling down heavy on top of him as they wait for his knot to go down. There’s a scratch of his moustache as Din kisses Luke’s cheeks, his nose, with tenderness and care.
“How are you feeling?”
Luke wraps his arm around Din’s neck, pulling him close. He peppers Din’s shoulders and neck with small marks, love bites that raise the blood to the surface but don’t break skin. After long moments he draws away, purring and touching Din’s chest, running a finger down his nipples, then whines prettily, angling his hips again. He huffs as he feels the knot pull where it’s seated within him and he squirms.
“Din,” Luke whimpers. “Din – alpha – please –”
“We have to wait for the knot to go down, cyare,” Din murmurs, still breathing hard as he strokes at Luke’s sweat-licked hair. “Be patient.”
“Need more, it’s hurting, please, Alpha,” Luke whimpers. His hand worms its way between him to his cock, already half-hard again, fisting himself roughly.
Heaving a sigh, Din takes both his wrists into one of his own and sits them up, Luke in his lap, locked together. “Keep your hands on my shoulders,” Din says in a low hum. “I’ll give it to you, don’t worry.” He kisses Luke’s hair, sweat-soaked, and reaches down to Luke’s cock to provide what relief he can as he hitches his hips up, then higher, his knot tugging at his insides at a way that makes Luke’s toes curl. He collapses against Din’s chest, already lost once more in the cresting waves of pleasure.
“I’ve got you.”
-
An entire day past the duration expected for a prolonged heat, Ursa ventures to the bedchamber. She opens the door a crack, peering into the dimly lit space.
“Mand’alor?” she asks. “Skywalker?”
A low growl answers her; two sets of eyes peer from the bed, one alert and the other in slits of exhaustion. Luke doesn’t pause as he chases yet another orgasm, but his bared teeth show just how much he resents Ursa’s intrusion. His cock is half-hard, but at this stage of the heat, that’s not unusual.
What is unusual is the state that the Mand'alor’s in.
Din’s cock is both spent and swollen with overuse; he’s curled on his side, but all the fingers on his right hand are in use, providing Luke some minor satisfaction. He blinks as the light falls into the room and waves weakly with his free hand. “No. W’r f’ne. Go ‘way. My ‘mega.” He bares his teeth like Luke, but as soon as Luke’s hips roll just the right way against his wrist, he grunts in pain.
“Maker,” Ursa mutters, retreating hastily.
To Paz, waiting in the hallway, she sighs. “Get the knockout gas in there.”
-
Din wakes slowly, head pounding, to be met with the white walls of the medical wing. He sighs, then tries to reach for water, only to see his right wrist in a splint.
Paz, sitting at his bedside, quickly offers him water with a straw instead. “You took a real beating, vod. You’ve been out for two days. Bo-Katan’s been ecstatic about making decisions without you.”
“Luke?” he croaks. “Luke ‘kay?”
“Oh, your feral Omega boyfriend is fine.” Paz rolls his eyes under his visor. “Heat fog got so bad that you were both just hurting - he broke your wrist but that’s the worst of the damage. Ursa gave him a couple of hormonal balancers and he’s at least coherent now. Still burning off the last of it, but not straight feral.”
“B’yfr’nd-?” Oh no. Sudden dread fills him. Did they - did he -
“We don’t know when it happened, but one of you got the mating band off his neck and you’re the lucky Alpha of a jetti. The whole council wants to know when you’re planning to announce your betrothal. Besides, you weren’t exactly subtle at the fight, were you?” Paz leans back, placing the water back down.
Din swallows. “Is he – angry , or –”
“Hardly,” scoffs Paz. “Not at you, at least. Keeps apologizing to anyone who’ll listen, assuring Bo that he’s sure the bite won’t take.” Paz’s helmet tips to one side. “I’m guessing that won’t be an issue though.” Din can feel the man’s smile through the beskar. “Sabine didn’t get it wrong, did she. You’re meant to be together.”
Din smiles hazily. “Mm. Riduurok . G’tta say th’ words.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep for now.” Paz settles into the chair next to him. “I’ll watch out for you in the meantime.”
-
Luke watches on a soundless monitor from the adjoining room in Medical, tears in his eyes. “I hurt him -- I broke his damn wrist, he’s covered in bruises and scrapes–”
“And he knew what he was getting into,” Sabine interrupts, smacking the back of his head. “Stop being self-sacrificing. And get off those suppressants.”
“How can he look me in the eyes after this? I broke his dick--!”
Sabine covers her snort with one hand. “You didn’t break anyone’s dick. You chafed him, you chafed yourself, but no real harm done. We didn’t have to use bacta submersion - that’s the line, and you didn’t cross it.”
Luke shakes his head, curling in on himself and shuddering. In his vagina, merrily pulsing away, sits a faintly buzzing vibrator, chasing out the last of his heat, and the shift of his hips makes his breath hitch a little.
“That’s not the only line,” Luke points out, wretched with guilt as he sighs. He rubs his neck along the mating bite and sniffles faintly. “But it’s not going to take. He’s not going to want me out of heat. We’ve been over this.”
“Shut the fuck up, Luke,” Sabine says cheerfully, patting his bare flank. “Try to sleep, hm?”
-
After more than sufficient recovery time, and with some careful finagling on the parts of Paz and Sabine, Luke and Din run into each other in the gardens.
Luke hesitates, fidgeting with front of his medical-issue gown – then steels himself, approaching Din.
They stop about a meter from each other, and each starts, then stops speaking several times.
“I just--”
“I’m so--”
“I want--”
Din huffs, frustrated. “You start.”
Luke swallows. “Sorry. I just… I just wanted to say, I…I won’t be back on Mandalore anytime soon. I’m happy to send someone to train Grogu here if you don’t think Yavin a safe enough place for him.”
Din’s forehead lines deepen; he blinks in confusion, but lets Luke finish his thoughts first.
“You won’t need to worry about my mating bite, either.” It’s still there on the side of his neck, despite all his assurances it wouldn’t take. “I know we aren’t compatible, at least not out of heat.” Luke smiles, wan, twisting his hands together in front of him. “I’m…I’ll manage.”
Din tilts his head. “Are you finished?”
Luke blinks. “... yes?”
With that, Din pulls off his helmet and grabs Luke by the chin, forcing the startled man to look into his eyes. “Luke Skywalker. You are the most stubborn, obtuse, idiotic man when it comes to your own biology.”
“E-excuse me–?” Luke’s eyes flash, but before he can truly wind up to respond, Din cups his face on either side and kisses him decisively.
Oh -! Luke thinks, as a jolting bolt of rightness crashes through the Force. Oh, he realizes, kissing him back, tongue darting out to lick at Din’s lips, tentative. Luke’s spine zings in excitement as Din rumbles deep in his throat, crowding Luke up against a statue to some Mandalorian leader or other.
“So.” Din’s hand sneaks down and palms Luke’s cock, then pulls away to ask, jarringly sensible, “Have you been cleared by medical? Ursa’s nothing if not thorough.”
“Mhm?” Luke pants, mouth open slightly. “Oh, uh. Yes.”
“Well, then, I’d say we’re overdue for clear-headed sex, mesh’la.” Din slides an armored hand down Luke’s side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He leans in to nuzzle at the mating bite at Luke’s neck, licking over it once before nipping at his skin just enough to raise the scar. Luke lets out a shaking breath, reeling with the rightness of it. “I have you, I don’t intend to let you go, and I’ll just have to prove it to you over and over again until you believe me.”
Luke licks his lips, suddenly ravenous. “Oh,” he murmurs, a smile unfurling across his lips. “Oh, I think it’ll take some time.”
When they kiss again, Luke feels the curve of Din’s own smile against his lips.