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The jarring music crashed into Din’s ears like a firearm, his snarl festering with every obnoxious blast of various instruments in a laughable attempt at a beat. He couldn’t decide which he hates more: neon pulsating clubs, their excuses for music, or the shitty owners who thought they could wring Boba for more than they’d paid.
“You’re in far too much of a hurry,” chided their client, a lanky twi'lek who widened his wiry arms. “Stay, relax! Take that heavy armor off and enjoy yourselves, gentlemen. I already have another job for you tomorrow if I see you sober before sunhigh! Half the work and double the pay, now that I know you’re competent not to make a mess of things.”
The bounty had been delivered a solid twelve minutes ago but this loudmouth couldn’t piece it together that they were done here, they wanted to leave, there were more lucrative offers on this planet than this overrated bar. Din’s throat ached to scream.
Boba was in one of his painfully patient moods. Out of boredom or a featherlight coin purse, he was all too glad to slide into a vacant chair and help himself to a gratis drink.
“Please, go on,” Boba prompted their employer and Din rolled his eyes behind his visor. He could sit, ease the tension in his sore knees, but that would make him look willing to stay and Boba deserved to know he'd rather gargle shards of glass.
“Best to keep the nasty details away from the dining table,” the twi'lek waved a hand about. “Sours the food, wouldn’t you agree? Plenty of time for talk tomorrow.”
Holy hell, another one of these. Din’s teeth grinded. Ah yes, feed them some drinks, bonus points if they’re laced with something tranquilizing, put them to bed then slip the camtono from their room and use it for tomorrow’s job. They’d be coherent enough to complete the work but still too loopy to recognize the same money - it was a ridiculous old fashioned technique and a stupidly bold play against two bounty hunters.
The audacity alone had Din ready to spit acid.
He lowered his head close to Boba’s ear. “It’s time to leave.”
“Not now, it would be impolite.” He didn’t even bother to turn to him. “Where are your manners?”
Din’s teeth bared and his jaw tightened around a harsh rebuttal but the owner opened his mouth first, howling for whiskey shots at the purple-haired waitress who quickly bowed and darted away.
Din was glad to know he wasn’t the only one having a miserable time.
“Boba,” he tried again. “Could we just-”
“My friend here isn’t much of a drinker,” Boba said, leaning back as though he were in his throne. “But I’ll be more than happy to take his share.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” the twi'lek chuckled but Din didn’t miss the way he eyed him up and down briefly, as if committing the details to memory. Din’s boiling skin crawled.
The waitress returned, breathless and red in the face, delivering two shots for each of them. Din stood stiffly as he was offered his pair until Boba took them instead. He knew if he opened his mouth now, they’d never be welcomed back.
A boring toast followed by meaningless small talk. Din’s thighs scream under his weight, begging for respite after chasing a painfully agile kubaz embezzler from rooftops. The gnawing of his sore muscles grated into him, souring his mood worse than the bitter lime drinks Boba is served next. He accepted with a courteous taste and compliment, but left them on the table as the club owner turned his attention to order from a different waitress with fire-red hair and blue painted lips.
Under the cover of his distraction, Din ducked his head again. “You know he’s playing with you, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Now Boba looked at him, a gaze so heavy Din couldn’t help but almost halt under it. “But the free alcohol isn’t.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he snarled, snapping his eyes right to left to ensure they weren’t being overheard. “We’re done here. Why are you dragging this on? You’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s get back to the ship already.”
“Tired, are you? I couldn’t tell. Certainly not from the way you’re snapping and huffing like a petulant child.”
Fury swelled in Din’s chest. He could suffocate under it. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’ll return alone if I need to.”
“You need to practice your tolerance,” Boba quietly clicked his tongue. “Ten minutes more and we will leave together. Until then, you will be a cordial guest for our host.”
Ten minutes, yeah right. Ten more minutes of stroking egos, of watching Boba drink what he couldn’t, of dining with this cheap swindler who was playing them for absolute idiots.
It was an insult.
“Fine,” Din murmured curtly, turning his head so he would hear him better. “You just let me know when you’ve had enough of playing the pushover.”
Din recognized his mistake the moment he made it. Boba’s jaw snapped to him, eyes so sharp it only read one thing: you’ve done it now. Din swallowed audibly, stomach coiling in instant regret so bone-deep he felt nauseous.
Boba rose to his feet and Din nearly jumped out of his skin. His chest tightened, pulse hammering as Boba sweetly excused himself the only way Din had ever seen him do it in front of a client - “Apologies, I must step away for a moment. Please carry on.”
Then Boba turned and his face was only inches away.
“Follow me.”
His mouth barely moved, the sound nearly inaudible, but it crushed down Din’s shoulders like a stack of unrefined beskar. He could only bow his head.
Din struggled to follow him with a stoic presence, as though he was nothing more than a bodyguard, but he felt smaller with every step. He couldn’t fathom what he was being led to - a patronizing reprimand in the hallway? A proper swing to the nose in the back alley?
He deserved whatever Boba had planned.
He wasn’t trying to be difficult. He knew Boba ached the same way he did, equally desperate for a shred of respite, but he had far more patience to fake it longer than Din could ever hope.
“I’m sorry,” Din said uselessly.
“In you go,” Boba said briskly, swinging open the door to the restroom. Damn it, it was loud in here too. Ugly pulsating music glared from the ratty speakers, as if blasting it louder would improve the quality. Static filled his skull and rattled about, sending Din into the beginnings of another headache.
“Listen, I-”
He was shoved into the sink, the porcelain bruising his hips as his forehead nearly collided with the glass mirror. He choked on nothing, head snapping to the door. “Wait, lock it.”
Boba’s hand closed around the back of his neck and Din’s body slumped in submission. Even through the tough cloth, Din felt his fingers curl hard into his flesh and mark their presence with a tight throb and broken blood vessels.
“Fuck,” Din muttered but could only form the first half of the word before his voice failed him.
“I know you’re used to doing things your way,” Boba remarked uninterestedly, as though he wasn’t pinning Din to the filthy public bathroom sink. “While it’s adorable to watch you try to tell me what to do, you seem to have forgotten something important.”
“Won’t do it again,” Din rasped, trying to keep his eyes from unfocusing. His body was already slipping from his control, bending easily at the waist when Boba knocked him down. His mouth was inches from the rusty faucet.
“Oh, I know.”
Boba slid a sheathed blade into the door handle to ensure their solitude, and something about the idea of there’s nothing stopping him now flooded Din’s lungs like smoke and he couldn’t breathe.
“Sweet thing,” Boba rumbled. “Surely you’ve learned by now; the shorter your temper, the shorter your leash.”
“I’m not your mutt,” he gasped even as trembling fingers scrambled on the sink.
“Remove your helm.”
Blindly, stupidly, without reason or doubt, Din obeys. He always does. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to.
Fuck.
He really was Boba’s mutt, wasn’t he?
His voice was thunder above him. “Belt.”
Boba took his helmet away and unceremoniously dumped it in the next sink, freeing Din’s hands to let him yank clumsily at his buckle. His cheeks felt hot and his neck felt cold, unprotected against the elements. Looking up, he seized when his own eyes met him in the mirror.
“What if-” he whispered.
“No one else is here,” Boba laid a heavy hand between his shoulder blades. “You’re safe, kit. Now belt.”
Unsteady fingers undo the buckle but Din still jerked when Boba yanked the worn leather strap free. His attached blaster clattered down with it, tattered pouches spilling spare rifle rounds onto the grimy tile. He glanced down when Boba tucked his cape around his side, thick fingers fastening onto the hem of Din’s pants.
“You wouldn’t. Not here.”
“Watch me.”
Din’s head spun and he swore he couldn’t see straight when Boba yanked down, tearing the warmth away and exposing his ass to the hot sticky air. Din spat out a couple swears.
He’d really done it this time.
Boba’s rough hands appeared between his legs, rubbing about casually as though it were a chore. It was far too rough, unforgiving and chaste, then why were Din’s knees buckling under him? He didn’t know where to look. The mirror showed his flustered face, cheeks and ears ridiculously scarlet with sheer embarrassment, that patchy beard he could never grow out-
Or he could look at Boba, looking bored as he clinically slid a finger over his entrance and entirely - purposefully - avoiding his cock. Din tried to stare, heart racing like mad under his skin as though he could will him into looking back - but no luck. Boba was teaching him a lesson and it was his job to learn it.
He settled with screwing his eyes shut completely.
“I said watch.”
Din’s head snapped up, eyes bolting open. His throat tightened when something pressed inside him, slick and ruthless all at once and it punched the oxygen from his lungs.
The mirror showed him everything. Boba’s hand was half hidden between his thighs, two curled fingers disappearing inside of him. Nothing could have prepared Din for the way they pressed into the soft patch inside of him, hard and unforgiving.
“Ready so soon?” Boba’s lips split into a spiked grin that damn near stops Din’s heart in his chest. “And here I thought I was being too rough on you. You really do need this, don’t you? A reminder, a firm hand.”
A piece of Din wanted to bite out that yes, it was too much, it was too rough, but the words died before they reached his mouth and it was all he could do to resist rolling his eyes back in his head as a third finger crammed inside of him.
“Oh,” he didn’t mean to sob out, but the surreal perfect stretch was just enough to send him past his tipping point. “Sir.”
“That’s more like it,” Boba murmured as his fingertips curl again and again, triggering the nerves into a forest fire under his stomach. It was thoughtless, crude, inappropriate, and fuck, fuck, Din couldn’t think-
“Don’t stop,” Din choked, knuckles whiter than the porcelain he clung to. “Keep-”
Boba’s fingertips moved fast and smooth, aided with the embarrassing wetness dripping down his hole, but Din’s head couldn’t keep up enough to hate it. He didn’t know when his eyelids fell closed, when his mouth parted in shocked bliss, but then Boba’s other hand fastened into his hair and commanded his attention again. Din twitched and his insides tightened around Boba’s fingers, eyes snapping open again.
It took a moment for the blurs to take shape. Din blinked hard past the fog filling his vision, liquid spilling from the corners as Boba unforgivingly fingered him with reckless abandon. His mouth wouldn’t listen to him - even when he sealed it shut, jagged noises tore out. His shoulders cinch at an especially rough jab, his knees turning to jelly under the brutality of it all.
“Enough.”
Boba took his hand away and Din swore he could cry. Stupidly, he pushed his hips back and met nothing but a sudden sharp sting landing on the swell of his ass. He sunk his teeth into the inside of his cheeks to stop whatever noise wants to give himself away, but a broken keen escapes between his chapped lips.
“That’s what I thought,” Boba’s purr was deep and rich. “Don’t you think that this is any kind of reward.”
“I didn’t-”
Another strike landed again, right in the same spot, and blackness pooled in front of Din’s eyes as the heat radiated and the red shame bled into his cheeks. He swore in one language or another, ducking his head and hiding his face from himself.
Never until today had Boba spanked him before.
It hurt so fucking bad - above all, it was embarrassing, but that was what it was designed for. This was what he got for annoying Boba when he was trying to talk shop with a client. This was what he got for being impatient and snappy, whipping up an attitude when Boba was trying to be cordial.
It was Din’s fault they were still here.
“I’m sorry,” Din let out and finally the thick tears spilled down his cheeks. “‘m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, pet,” there was a warm heavy weight at the back of his neck and Din wanted to melt like wax under it. “I believe you. Now let’s make sure you never forget it.”
Din weakly parted his thighs. He wasn’t in control of his own body anymore. Each nerve was on fire. Everything belonged to Boba.
Boba’s cock sunk inside of him and Din couldn’t stop the way his eyes rolled back in his skull. The sheer fullness was absolute perfection, completing him in ways he never knew was possible. It should shame him how effortlessly the thickness slid right into him, his wet tip pushing into his soaked hole, but it emptied the oxygen from his lungs and it was all he could do to hold on.
Boba didn’t give Din even a beat to adapt before plunging in and out, his dick carving out a wet tight path for it to strike. Something tight strained out of Din’s throat, a weep or a plea or a useless beg, but it was drowned underneath the abrasive clashing music blaring from the speakers overhead.
Din clung to the sink like a lifeline as Boba’s cock reshapes his insides, the thick blunt head parting him wide as his shaft fills him to his limit. An abrupt white-hot splinter of pain bloomed at the top of his head at an especially brutal thrust when his skull collided straight into the mirror, hard enough to leave a split down the middle. Din startled, a curse blending into a sob as Boba struck into him again, ruthless and unforgiving.
Boba’s hand fastened into his hair, pulling up until Din’s back is arched and he’s watching his cracked reflection get railed in the locked bathroom on a planet he couldn’t possibly remember the name of.
“Say it again,” Boba hissed close to his ear, hips snapping into his at a breakneck speed and it was all Din could do not to lose consciousness under the absolute perfection of it all. “Say it.”
“I’m sorry.” Din choked on the salty tears that flooded his mouth when he opened it. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
For a moment, Din couldn’t think at all. It was all so much at once - the rough churning abuse of his insides, his ears full of crass music and Boba’s ragged voice, the sting of his ass, the fire burning in his cheeks - but Boba yanked on his hair hard enough for saliva to drip down the corner of his mouth and he remembers his place.
“Dis-” he sobbed, “-respecting you. Be- being- impatient, hah-”
“Go on.”
“I put- I put my wants above yours,” Din’s chest quaked uncontrollably. He felt so full he might burst and it was so rough his entire body was jarred against every slam. “I was rude, so rude t-to you, to our host-”
“To me.”
Boba’s hand found his clit and he tightened two fingers around it ruthlessly. Din fucking whimpers, unseeing eyes widening into nothing. His mouth fell slack and his toes curled in his boots. Desperately, his sought out the friction, rocking into the tightness, and thankfully, Boba let him. It was so embarrassing, fighting for what he needed while Boba so easily captured his own pleasure inside his quivering hole, but god was it more than enough.
He wanted to cum, he needed to cum, he swore he'd break without it. He knew it wasn't what he deserved, this isn’t what Boba had instructed, but there was nothing he could do to stop his body from chasing it.
“You were disrespectful to me,” Boba snarled and his voice reverberated so deep in his chest that Din could feel it in his own. He ripped on his curls until brilliant pain shot through his scalp.
“I was,” Din’s voice cracked an octave higher, clasping his hands behind his head to stave the ache of the pull and covering his face with his arms. “I’m sorry-!”
Boba’s fingers gripped around Din’s cock and tugged hard. Raw static filled his head. He couldn’t see a thing or hear a sound, aware of nothing but his own heartbeat like a pounding drum in his skull. Every muscle in his legs locked in place and his elbows went rigid. Even the obnoxious music faded out of existence as his eyes crossed.
The hand in Din’s finally hair released and he dropped his head, hiding his face into the sink as the orgasm crashed into his body again and again, waves like a tsunami as Boba doesn’t let up, gripping him tight and milking his release for everything he could possibly give him. Din wanted to weep - in bliss, in regret, in apology, in gratitude - and perhaps he did.
Din’s trembling calves felt frail as sticks when Boba finally, finally released his clit. His rough fingertip brushed against its aching pink tip just once, but Din was overstimulated to the point that it made him bite back a cry of pain as so much instantly became too much, his body instinctively twisting away from it.
Boba captured him the beat before Din’s legs caved in on themselves, lowering him onto his knees as Boba stood above him. Din couldn’t stop shaking like a leaf in the billowing wind, hanging on by the thinnest thread. Without thinking, he grabbed onto Boba. Fistfuls of the coarse fabric, his nails scraping against scratched leather - everything and anything he could hold onto.
Distantly, through the tremors and tears that wrack his entire body, Din was aware of Boba’s hand at his jaw. His palm lifted up, commanding his focus.
“Now, then,” Boba’s head turned at a predatory watchful angle. “When we go back out there, what will you do?”
A tiny hiccup wracked Din’s chest. “I’ll-”
“You’ll behave like a respectful adult. You will sit, you will participate in the conversation, and you will thank our client for his hospitality.”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered.
Boba’s hand wrapped around his swollen leaking cock and pushed it against Din’s lips. He obediently parted them, opening his mouth only to close it around the hot flesh. Din’s body still wasn’t listening to him - he slurped shakily, trying to tighten his lips and massage with his tongue and avoid his teeth all at once but he didn't stop looking away from Boba because he hadn’t given him his permission yet.
With great effort, Din pushed his head closer and welcomed Boba’s cock deeper into his mouth. It was hot and throbbing, so thick that it was difficult to force it down further, the head of his dick shoving into the tight unforgiving entrance of his throat. Boba hissed between his teeth and Din could feel the muscles of his thighs tightening.
“That’s it,” he snarled, pushing the damp hair from Din’s brow and winding them around his fingers. He rocks his hips in and out, fucking his throat open and it’s all Din can do to hold still and take it. His stomach flips, but he holds. He can’t breathe, but it’s perfection.
Din’s knees ached against the wet cold floor, soaking the cloth between his armor, but it was the last thing on his mind. Even the stiffness of today’s chase was a thing of the past. All he could comprehend was this - giving Boba the pleasure and relief he deserved.
He was far too gone to overthink a single damn thing. He was right where he wanted to be.
Boba’s cock glided out of his mouth at that moment and Din protested, chasing it again, but Boba pushed against his forehead and held him still. His tight fist slid down his length and stopped at the base, and the punched out groan that tumbles from his lips makes Din’s head spin like a wayward top.
Boba gave a sharp sudden swear, deep and cut short when his chest visibly tightened. Thrill sprinted up Din’s spine and he sat up straight, cold tile bruising his kneecaps, and eagerly opened his mouth.
Warm cum flooded his mouth and Din closed his eyes. Specks flickered across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, a few drops trickling down his jaw. Boba’s hand appeared at his chin, tipping his head up.
Din blinked thickly, unfocused vision trying to concentrate as Boba ordered him, “Don’t you swallow yet.”
He held, mouth full and open, thick cum trickling down the corners of his lips. Steel hardened in Boba’s eyes as he tilted Din’s head right and left, amused lips twitching into a smug smile.
“Now.”
Din’s mouth snapped closed and he gulped it down, rich and heavy as it traveled down his throat. He raised a hand to wipe the rest from his face but Boba ceased him and took his wrist, his thumb pressing into the center of his hand. He raised it to his mouth, kissing the front of each of his fingers.
“There we are,” Boba murmured into his skin. “Much better, kit.”
Din didn't want to move an inch but Boba lifted him to his feet and he was forced to find his balance again. He was still and silent as Boba fastened his pants back around his waist, strapped the leather together, and gently collected his fallen blaster and the rounds that have long-since rolled beneath the sink piping. He slid each back into its place with a gentle care Din has only ever witnessed after moments like these.
Boba kissed the top of his brow and inspected him from head to boot, ensuring that everything was returned properly. He let his palms glide up Din’s calves, his thighs, up his sides until they met his forearms, until Boba’s eyes met his.
“Are you ready?”
Din bobbed a single nod, rendered mute and pliant. Every muscle in his body felt unlike his own, and he followed Boba with his eyes as he stepped away to redress and situate himself once more.
For a moment Din forgot he wasn’t simply a witness watching Boba relinquish the blade from the bathroom door, that he actually existed in the same physical plane as him - then he touched Din’s shoulder and it all came back to him at once. Din breathed in forcefully, nearly unable yet to face the world but Boba looked at him with that tender look reserved only for him and it freed him. Boba drew closer just once more, pressing his forehead to his for the shortest moment before withdrawing and passing Din his helmet.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said when Din clumsily stuck it on and he swung open the door. “We’ve just about overstayed our welcome, wouldn’t you say?”
Din followed Boba back to their host. The piercing music seemed far quieter in his ears now. The blaring lights appeared more than barely a flicker. If dancers pressed into him or patrons spilled liquor on his shoulder, he didn't notice. All Din could do was stare at Boba’s back, wishing nothing more than to take his hand and hold his arm to his chest.
Boba sat back down at the table and so did Din. The sharp pain flared again at his rump, a smarting reminder of his crystal clear orders. He sat up straight despite the ache in his back, hands resting his lap.
Din did as he was commanded. The host, quite drunk by now, made tasteless jokes and he raised his shoulders in a silent responsive chuckle. He dipped his head in humility as he and Boba were praised for a job well done. He raised his glass in a table-wide toast and slid it to Boba to enjoy.
He felt weightless and shapeless and dinner passed like a fever dream. He rose to his feet when Boba did, their words sounding like another language to his ears but he copied Boba and bowed politely in thanks to their job and fine food.
“Wasn’t so bad, was it? I’ll admit, for someone who speaks a lot, that twi’lek sure had nothing to say. Can’t say I even recall his name.”
Din looked up at Boba. They were resting in the weapons locker of the Razor Crest, both unable to quite brace for the shaky ladder to the upper deck. Boba was rubbing thoughtfully at his thigh, no doubt still sore, and Din wished he could do it for him.
“That was dangerous, you know.” Din said quietly, passing a thin smooth cloth into the disassembled barrel of his blaster. “You were far too trusting of him.”
He was a bit clearer in the head now that they were both safe aboard the Crest with no more expectations for the day. He still felt subtly unanchored but he knew Boba was keeping a keen eye on him, and it was oddly calming. At least his voice had finally returned to him.
Boba chuckled as he loosened the drawstrings of his boots. “Oh, I figured he may have had something up his sleeve. I just wanted to give you a little lesson in patience, as it were.”
“A lesson?” Din slid the pieces back together and briskly popped the magazine back in with a satisfying clicksnap. “Those drinks could have been poisoned for all you know.”
“As if he could be so crafty,” Boba waved a nonchalant hand. “Besides, you were there.”
“I suppose. I just,” Din rose to his feet and returned the blaster to its empty spot in the locker. He wiped away a stray smudge on the grip with the pad of his thumb. “I hate when you take those kinds of risks.”
“You were worried,” Boba said pleasantly and the way he said it had embarrassed tingling crawling up Din’s cheeks that he refused to acknowledge. “Now, isn’t that sweet. We really need to work on your communication skills. If you were that nervous, you could have said something.”
“I wasn’t nervous,” Din retorted, but his stomach tightened in thrill when Boba stood up and touched his thumb to his chin. He struggled to continue calmly, “I was prepared for the worst.”
“Of course,” Boba said in a voice that told Din he was more fascinated with watching his lips move than the words that fell from them. Din tipped his head up for a kiss Boba easily granted.
“Love you,” Din muttered. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… that, I guess. It wasn’t fair on you.”
“Nothing to apologize for, angel. I know.” Boba’s bare hands settle on his waist. “Now then. Let’s make one last stop before we head up, shall we? It’s about time I reward you for being so cordial during the rest of dinner.”
Just like that, Din’s heart jumped back into his throat and he quickly straightened. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s my boy.”