Work Text:
The song began about a year ago. It was soft, not yet full-throated. The beginning of a call to a newly-awakened Force adept. One who was not yet able to hear its melody.
But Din could. Din heard every kybersong, no matter whom it called for. It was not a particularly useful talent in his line of business, but Din was a mosaic of a man defined more by the things he was not than the things that he was.
He was not a Jedi. He had not been found by the Jedi Order when he was small, and the Order was long gone regardless.
He was not an Imperial Inquisitor. He had been claimed by another by the time the program began, one the Empire could not or would not bother trying to wrest a single adept from.
He was not a Mandalorian. He had been brought to Mandalore as a child, after his home was destroyed. The Mand’alor had seen his potential in the Force and claimed him as an apprentice, but a few months later they were forced to flee. Another who was not a Jedi took the planet with a force of clones that were the Republic’s, until they were the Empire’s.
Despite his master’s best efforts, Din was also not quite a Sith. His master had a vision for a new Sith Order, one that did not bow to Sidious’ strict adherence to Banite teachings. But he was mad, and unable to maintain coherence. Din used the Force as he saw fit, to further any goal he had in front of him at the time. He cared little for the nuances between sides and abilities.
What Din was, however, was powerful. He grew up in the Crimson Dawn, which his master ruled from the shadows, in between haphazard lessons in the Force. They knew him, and respected him. Even Qi’ra, his master’s direct lieutenant, had a begrudging respect for Din and his abilities.
Which was why when his master died on Tatooine four years ago, Din and Qi’ra had begun an odd sort of partnership. He was technically in charge, but she handled much of the bureaucracy that even a crime syndicate needed to stay running. It left him free to pursue his own whims.
Such as chasing down an errant kyber crystal when it began to sing.
Din did not collect every kyber that he heard, he often blocked them out. This one was different. He had to have it. It sang the same as Din’s own kyber once had, before his master forced him to bleed it and it instead began screaming.
Not once had Din encountered two kyber that sang the same tune, and yet he could tell that this time the song was not for him. It was for someone else, someone whose soul must resonate at the same frequency as Din’s own.
The song led Din to Tatooine, and if he spared a thought for his dead master's fate, it was fleeting. More specifically, it drew him to the Jundland Wastes. Then to a hovel.
This had once been someone’s home, but the sand had begun to reclaim it. Whoever had once lived here had not been back in a long time, and had no one else to maintain their living space.
The kyber’s call was no louder here than it was when Din was halfway across the galaxy, but it was close. It unspooled threads of the Force in hopes that its chosen one would latch on and follow. Instead Din grabbed hold and closed his eyes, letting the Force guide him the rest of the way.
He had to dig a small box out of a pile of sand, but there it was. A tiny crystal, faintly pulsing green in the aura of Din’s Force presence. The kyber began wailing instead of singing. Din was not who it called for.
“Sh, shh,” he said out loud, “I won’t hurt you.”
The kyber stopped its cries, but did not resume singing, either. He opened himself to the Force and fed it a thin thread of energy, encouraging it to carry on.
“Sing louder, little one. Call your master to me.”
His efforts came to fruition some months later. The First Light was parked on Ardennia. It was a convenient midway point for those Crimson Dawn currently had business with moreso than a destination in and of itself.
Din stood at the far end of the main entertaining space of the ship, where they conducted most of their more diplomatic business. He was not trying to discourage conversation, but no one approached him. Qi’ra was on the other end of the room, a fake smile plastered across her face as she carried on a conversation with a Crotok.
In the Force she was a barely-leashed ball of rage, but only Din could tell. The two had a system of tiny signals worked out if she needed his input. If he wanted to know more about any given conversation he would sink into her mind. He rarely did so with others, he was not skilled enough at mind-walking to remain undetected. Qi’ra hated it, but had grown used to the intrusion.
It wasn’t personal.
Loud whoops echoed off of the durasteel walls, drawing everyone’s attention. Two of Din’s men crashed into the room, an unconscious human man slung between them.
“Ey Lady Qi’ra!” one of them shouted. Din frowned at the volume of his voice. “Lookit what we caught tryna sneak on board!”
Qi’ra seemed to ignore him. Her eyes cut over to Din instead, tightening slightly. They had discussed the possibility of an uninvited guest who was not to be harmed, if possible.
Din did not bother sending a careful gesture in return. He uncoiled from his sequestered corner and strode forward. Several people standing nearby jumped; they had not noticed him before. It had been his intention, it made quiet observation easier.
“L-Lord Djarin,” the second man said, taking a small step back as Din approached them. He seemed to know that they had misstepped, for all that it was doubtful he knew how.
Din focused on the limp form between the two. All he could see from this angle was blond hair, a too-large yellow jacket, and brown pants. Something thrummed at the back of his head, something that needed more before it could materialize.
What he could not see of the man he could instead feel in the Force. This man was a supernova; bright uncontrolled power seemed to spill out of him. Din fought the urge to squint despite the lack of physical light.
He said nothing, but made a sharp gesture and walked past the men. The two re-adjusted their hold on the captive and followed. The toes of the young man’s boots dragged on the tiled floor as they carried him.
Din silently led them into a turbolift. The pair dropped into an uncomfortable quiet as they moved. It was rare that Din took personal interest in what they must think was a small matter. The Force and the air were thick with unease.
His fingers tapped in a quick code, and the lift opened onto the antechamber of Din’s personal quarters. He kept his back to them as the door slid closed.
“Do — do you know who this is?” One of the men could no longer contain himself. “This is Red Five! I saw the bounty holos in town the other week. The Empire will pay through the nose for ‘im.”
Din turned slowly, to see the other man nodding his agreement.
“We are not bounty hunters,” Din said. His voice creaked with disuse. “Nor do we serve the Empire.”
The men glanced at each other.
“Give him the thing,” one whispered, as though Din could not hear at this distance.
“I was gonna keep it,” the other sulked, but pulled a silvery cylinder from his bag. A lightsaber. He presented it to Din with his free hand.
Din may have been a shadowy figure in their organization, but his interest in lightsabers was well-known. He took the weapon and turned it over in his hands. The kyber within sang of past anguish, tinged with hope for the future. He ignited it and a blue blade leapt from the hilt.
“Put him there,” Din said, pointing at a chaise in the rough middle of the room.
The two men glanced at each other, but did as he asked. They dumped their captive haphazardly over the chair, then turned back to Din.
“Who else have you told about Red Five?” Din asked, eyes still on the lightsaber blade.
“Uh…”
“Nobody, boss. Came straight up here.”
Din let his eyes sink closed and wrenched open one man’s mind, who groaned and doubled over on himself in pain. Din repeated the gesture and the second man nearly fell to his knees. He nodded to himself, satisfied that they had told him the truth. No one else knew about their prize.
“So are we gon — “
Din spun on his heel, swinging wide with the borrowed saber with the same motion. The two men’s heads fell from their shoulders and bounced off of the floor. The stench of cauterized flesh filled the room, and Din wrinkled his nose in distaste.
He deactivated the saber and sent a brief, if unpleasant, mental message to Qi’ra to have this cleaned up immediately. Then he turned to the chaise, to his potential kyber-seeker unceremoniously crumpled on top of it.
Din picked him up with surprising ease, there had been no need to half-drag him through the ship. He set him down on the chaise in a more comfortable position, then took his time looking him over.
The man’s blond hair was matted on one side with almost-dry blood, likely where Din’s men had knocked him out. Din tilted his chin up to get a better look at his face. He was beautiful, and Din found himself strangely curious to see his eyes. He did not bother pulling back an eyelid, he wanted to see them open, alert, and looking back at him.
Din held a hand out almost absent-mindedly, calling a medical kit to him without taking his eyes off of the young man’s lovely face. He began gently clearing the blood away, bacta at the ready once that task was done. Touching his skin sent tiny electrical shocks up Din’s spine, a curious feeling that should hurt but did not.
The green kyber from Tatooine hummed happily from its stand on a shelf.
“Let’s let him come to in his own time,” Din told it, speaking softly. “We can wait a little longer.”
Luke woke slowly, and in a great deal of pain. His head ached, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He reached up, and his fingers found a bandage. He frowned, why would his captors treat his wound?
He struggled to open his eyes, it was too bright when he first tried. He squinted, then blinked, and eventually his surroundings coalesced.
Luke found himself in a surprisingly nice room, marred only by the vague scent of burned flesh. If it was not for the hum of the ship’s idle engines, he would think he was in a palace of some sort. He lay on a soft, long chair of some kind. The floor was stone and beautiful, not practical durasteel. Shelves and standalone furnishings surrounded him, displaying all manner of lovely plants and pieces of art.
But what stood out the most was the crystals. Every surface had at least one, sitting in stands that appeared custom-made for each. They were displayed with reverence, whoever collected them cared for them beyond their aesthetic value.
One crystal, on one shelf, glowed faintly green. It seemed to call to him, singing a song that no one else could hear. Luke had asked Leia and Han about it, when he first heard it, but neither knew what he was talking about. It never stopped, and he had taken leave from the Rebellion as soon as he was able. He had to hunt down the source of that call.
Luke pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing when he irritated his fresh collection of bruises. He had to get that crystal and get out of here before —
“Easy, little seeker.”
He stilled. He had not noticed anyone else in the room with him. Luke turned and found a man sitting in an armchair. He was older and taller than Luke. He had short, dark hair, and a mustache. He wore a dark red robe, with no shirt underneath. A chain hung in the robe's deep vee, ending in a round pendant. The pendant had circles within circles, and a line drawn horizontally through the middle. It was a symbol that the men who had knocked Luke out also wore. One he, unfortunately, recognized.
Crimson Dawn. A crime syndicate that had been making inroads in the Outer Rim in the last few years. Luke felt his mouth go dry. This man must be important to be dressed this way and surrounded by riches. He was in real trouble now.
Luke raised his eyes from the pendant to the man’s own. If he was going to die, he would not do so without facing him head-on. When their eyes met something zinged through Luke, latching onto his spine just behind his heart. It pulled, as if it could physically drag him to the man.
His eyes were yellow, a color Luke had not found on a human before. Something in him said that was wrong, but he could not focus on that thought. Nor could he tear his own eyes away. The Force did not sing around the man, but the pull felt almost the same as the call he had followed here.
“How’s your head?” The man’s voice was husky and a little thick, as though he did not use it often.
Luke touched the bandage again, and hissed. He had almost forgotten the pain, but now that he focused on it it returned with a vengeance. He winced.
“I apologize for your rough welcome,” the man continued, “but you did try to sneak aboard. You would have been granted entry if you had asked.”
“Yeah,” Luke huffed. He found some of his own fire coming back to him. “Because crime syndicates are so well known for welcoming guests into their headquarters.”
The man tilted his head back and laughed. Luke’s traitorous eyes traveled down the long line of his throat, and he idly wondered what his pulse point would feel like under his lips.
“Not generally, no. But you were to be a special exception, Red Five.”
Luke’s stomach dropped out. People generally only called him by that call-sign when they intended to cash in on his Imperial bounty. It was small blessings from the Force that his real name was not public.
And yet, that panic could not override the thrumming pull of the man seated before him. He let his eyes wander, trying to think. He did not feel like a prisoner, but that did not mean he was not one. He noticed a lightsaber hilt resting across the man’s knees, and focused in on it in a bid to change the subject.
“That’s mine,” he said, pointing.
“No, it’s not.” The man gave him half a grin, almost teasing. Luke felt his face heat with a blush that was as much attraction as it was anger.
“It is,” he insisted. “Give it back.”
The man shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I mean it does not sing for you.”
Luke’s head hurt too much to try to make sense of that.
“Lightsabers don’t sing.”
The man laughed again, and held his hands apart in front of him. Luke’s lightsaber floated between them, then came apart. It looked like every exploded diagram of ship parts Luke had ever seen, but buoyed by the Force. In the center, a tiny crystal pulsed blue. It was the same shade as the saber’s blade when lit.
“Oh,” Luke whispered, sliding closer along the chaise before he realized he was moving. He held a hand out, hovering over the pieces but not touching.
“Every lightsaber houses a kyber crystal,” the man said. His voice was softer, quieter, almost reverent. “And every kyber crystal sings out for its master.”
He closed his hands into fists and the lightsaber reformed, as if it had never been broken. He held it out for Luke to take. Luke glanced between his yellow eyes and the silver hilt, instincts still searching for a trap. But he felt no danger, there was not even a whisper in the Force of warning.
He took the hilt and gasped softly when their fingers touched. The pull he had felt between them was stronger with actual contact, almost irresistible.
Almost.
“You’re a Jedi,” Luke said in his own hopeful tone. “I’ve been looking for one.”
“No,” the man said with a finality Luke did not understand. “What I am does not have a label. But I once had a training master.”
Luke’s eyes lit up. If he had a master, perhaps the same person could train Luke. Searching for scraps of information in between missions for the Rebellion was not exactly training. The few hours he had with Ben on the Falcon had been more instructive than the last year all together.
“He’s dead,” the man said, as though he knew what Luke would ask. Luke's heart fell and he let his eyes follow.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. And I don’t want to talk about him any longer.”
The man reached up and placed his fingertips against Luke’s cheek. Luke had no urge to flinch away. Instead, he barely managed not to lean into the touch.
“What are you doing?” Luke’s voice came out breathier than he meant, softer.
“Touching your face. Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I mean,” Luke gestured between them. “This…feeling. How are you doing that? And why?”
This time the man’s laugh was a soft chuckle.
“I’m not doing anything that you aren’t doing to me in return, I promise you. That isn’t what this is.” He pressed his palm flat against Luke’s cheek.
“I — just came here for — “ Luke pointed over his shoulder, “I think that crystal called me?”
“It did. It’s yours. You can take it any time.”
The pain in Luke’s head was all but gone. He wanted to lean in, to feel the man's scruff and facial hair against his own skin.
“I don’t — who are you?”
A true smile broke across the man’s face. It looked slightly out of place, as though most of his smiles did not reach his eyes the way this one did. As though he did not live a life that gave him many genuine reasons to smile.
“My name is Din,” he said, making small circles on Luke’s skin with his thumb.
Luke sucked in a breath. The sound of Din’s name turned the thrumming pull into a cacophony.
“Din,” he repeated.
Luke spared a fleeting thought for his bounty, but he felt safe. Strangely so. He knew not how, but he knew that Din would not betray him to the Empire. He placed a hand on Din’s chest, over the chain but almost within the robe. He could feel his heartbeat, pounding fast and in time with Luke’s own.
“I’m Luke,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. Din’s eyes closed for a moment, as though he felt the same pulsing ache. Perhaps he did.
He could not bear to dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation for a moment longer. Before he could overthink it, Luke surged forward and sealed their lips together. His hands went to Din’s shoulder’s, where he bunched the fabric of the fine robe into tight fists.
Warmth flooded through his body, filling every point that was not already blushing. The pull between them widened into a proper connection, and Din was suddenly there. Not only in physical reality, nor merely in the Force, but in a way somehow more intimate and real. Din’s presence echoed what Luke felt, warmth and want and need, threatening to overwhelm them both if left unchecked.
Din’s hand on his face carded into his hair, tugging at his roots. Luke gasped into his mouth, and Din took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He let go of Luke’s hair to wrap his arms around his waist, and hauled him further up the chaise. He leaned over him, pinning him in place with his weight. Luke’s lightsaber clattered to the floor, forgotten. He let his hands slide from Din’s shoulders to his neck, then under the robe to return to his shoulders. Din’s arms were muscled and strong, not those of a crime boss who lounged about.
Crime boss, Luke remembered, and his eyes popped open. He had not realized they closed. Din frowned, and pushed up so he was no longer pinning him. Luke felt Din’s confusion and concern bounce around his skull even before he spoke.
“What’s wrong, Luke?”
Luke struggled to articulate what he felt. He wanted nothing more than to continue, to let Din take all of him, wrap it up, and keep him stored neatly amongst his collection of crystals. But he had responsibilities, and could not forget them just because this handsome near-stranger felt as though he belonged on top of him.
“This — isn’t this fast?”
“Ah. I don’t think so.” Din bent and trailed tiny kisses along his jawline, leaving him free to continue to speak. Luke was sorely tempted not to.
“But,” he cut off in a long groan as Din lightly bit down on the pulse point in Luke’s neck, exactly the point Luke had wanted to attack on Din. “W-we have diff — different…uh, goals.”
Din snorted a laugh into his neck and pulled up to train those yellow eyes on him once more.
“Because the Rebellion and my organization are incompatible?”
He did not bend back to continue his ministrations, waiting for Luke’s response. Luke let his hands fall beside his head and blew air out from between his lips.
“Well yours is, uh,” he was suddenly concerned he would offend Din, despite that he could feel his patient anticipation, “a bunch of criminals?”
“So is the Rebellion, according to the Empire.”
Din pressed Luke into a deep kiss to cut off the smart-ass response he must have felt building in Luke’s throat. Then he pulled back.
“Is that what you’re worried about?”
Luke did not think he could flush deeper, but somehow his face grew even more warm. He looked away. Din grabbed his chin and turned his head back to look straight at him. Luke huffed.
“Shouldn’t I be worried about that?”
“Why?” Din let go of his face and sat back on his heels. “I think you’ll find things are greyer than you thought. And does it matter now?”
Part of Luke thought that it should, for consistency’s sake. But Din still felt safe to him, trustworthy. Surely that meant that any specific concerns they could work out. If whatever this strange thing between them lasted long enough to need details worked out.
There was, ultimately, only one thing he wanted worked out at the moment.
“No,” Luke grabbed the chain around Din’s neck and pulled, gently, to urge him back down, “I suppose not.”
Luke had kissed others before. Biggs, a time or two behind the cantina at Tosche Station. Wedge, rarely while drunk or after a dangerous mission. A few others. But none of them tasted like Din, kissing him left Luke with the impression of brine and woodsmoke. Acrid and strong, but pleasant once you got through the bite.
He lost track of time as they moved together, lips and tongues and fingertips searching along traces of exposed skin. Creating tactile maps of each other’s flesh. He felt Din do…something with the Force, but he was yet still too inexperienced to track exactly what. It lasted but a moment, then Din’s hands were back on him, pulling at his jacket and shirt, pants and boots. Luke fumbled for the catch on Din’s robe, reciprocating as best he could with less leverage.
Luke’s breath stuttered when they finally pressed bare against one another. He could feel Din’s cock against his thigh, already hard. Luke himself ached, desperate to be touched.
Din’s hands moved over his skin in intricate patterns, painting paths of want in gooseflesh. They were smoother than he expected, less calloused than Luke’s own.
“You’re beautiful, lûta,” Din said softly, his yellow eyes tracking the movement of his fingers. Luke felt a blush start in his cheeks and spread to his ears and down his neck.
“You’d be the first to think so,” he said. He had been cut down too many times in his youth, it was easier to deflect. Safer.
“If that’s true, everyone you have ever met is a fool.”
Din punctuated the thought with a kiss to his collarbone, followed by teeth. Din’s mouth worried and worked at Luke’s skin until a dark, blooming claim began to form. It hurt, but in a strangely pleasant way. Luke shifted underneath him and began to rock, trying to find that perfect point of pressure against his thigh.
“Though, I suppose,” Din said when he raised his eyes to meet Luke’s again, “they couldn’t see how brightly you shine in the Force.”
He ducked his head again, taking one of Luke’s nipples in between his lips. He sucked and bit at it, more gently than his earlier treatment.
“O-oh — !“ Luke turned his head toward Din’s, nosing into his hair.
Din shifted to the other side of his chest, repeating the motions. Luke bit back a whine. He had never had this sort of attention before. His only experiences were quick hands in a not-quite-private-enough corner of a base, or ship. This intense, slower pace felt wonderful.
“Din,” he breathed.
He could not get the right angle to drag himself against him, so he instead experimented with raking his fingernails up Din’s arms. It earned him a pleased grunt, so he did it again, then wound his fingers into Din’s hair. Din sucked harder when he scratched at his scalp, making Luke in turn try to cant his hips upward.
“Din!”
Din slid further down his chest, leaving feather-light kisses behind as he went. He paused when he reached his stomach, though, and cocked his head, as though listening to something.
“It should be ready. Come here, my lûta.”
In one motion, Din stood and picked Luke up around his middle. Luke made what was likely an unattractive squawk, but Din simply placed him back on his feet. He pressed another kiss into his mouth, then pushed harder until Luke found himself walking backwards.
Din steered him deeper into his quarters, keeping their lips locked together as they moved. He could have been leading Luke to a cell or to his doom, but he trusted this man he did not know implicitly. Every atom of Luke’s being pulsed with Din, Din, Din.
They turned suddenly, and Luke found his back against a wall. Din slotted himself between Luke’s legs and ran a hand along his side to cup his ass. He kept moving down to his thigh, where he pulled up, encouraging Luke to wrap the leg around his waist. Din ground against him.
“I had something nicer in mind,” he whispered between small, needful noises, “but I could take you right here, lûta.”
“What does that mean?” Luke’s voice was a breathy gasp. It was hard to think with the feel of Din working against him, pushing and grinding as though they could bore straight through the wall.
Din did not answer. He kissed him once more, then pulled back to keep moving. Luke dug his fingernails into his shoulders, frustrated.
“Patience, lûta.”
They stepped through a door into a room with moist, warm air. It was a refresher, though a nicer one than Luke had ever seen on a starship. There was a large tub filled with hot water on one end. Steam curled up from it, and for a moment Luke stared in wonder.
He was not a stranger to water bathing, with a year of the Rebellion under his belt. It still seemed an exorbitant luxury. This was the most water he had ever seen indoors, and on a starship at that.
“I thought you might like a bath after sneaking through who-knows-what muck and fighting my guards.”
Luke had no smart answer. Din took his hand and pulled him to the edge of the tub, then tried to lift him into the water.
“I can do it,” Luke insisted, feeling rather small.
Din let go, instead climbing in himself. His eyes rolled closed in pleasure as he sank into the water. Luke followed, hissing at the sudden heat. It seared his skin in a different way than the twin suns of his childhood.
He adjusted quickly. The water soothed aches he had almost forgotten, and he let himself sink underneath for a moment, no matter that it would saturate the bandage he still wore. Din grabbed his hands and pulled him on top of him, until Luke straddled his hips.
The water buoyed them both. Luke let his hands play over Din’s chest and stomach as Din pressed his face into the crook of his neck. There were a handful of blaster and vibroknife scars, but fewer than he expected for a crime lord. He supposed that having actual training in the Force must have helped a great deal.
His hand slipped lower and found the head of Din’s cock. Din made a pleased noise against his skin and cants his hips upwards, encouraging the touch.
Luke ran careful fingers along his length before wrapping his hand around it. He moved slowly, the water was a new element to this for him. Din sighed appreciatively at certain motions, and those were the ones Luke repeated.
He jumped when the pads of Din’s fingers found the furl of his entrance. Din laughed and kissed his neck.
“Relax, little lûta.”
“What does that mean?” Luke let go and placed his hands on Din’s shoulders.
“It’s Dathomiri for ‘echo.’”
Luke wrinkled his nose. “I’m not an echo.”
Din gave him a lazy smile and slipped a finger into him to the first knuckle. Luke gasped and arched forward. Din worked against him slowly, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion.
“Do you know how I knew to expect you?” he asked casually, as though they were still seated opposite each other in separate chairs.
“No, I — ahh — “
Din pushed deeper. He pulled out, to the tip, before pressing in again. He built a rhythm with the single digit, in and out, in and out.
“I can hear every kyber sing,” Din said. Luke slipped a hand between them and took Din’s cock in hand once more. “Mmm. I heard a song coming from Tatooine.”
“I’m from Tatoo — oh,” was all Luke managed as Din slipped a second finger inside of him. This one he worked a bit faster than the first, his eagerness pulsing between them through the Force.
“I found a little green crystal, singing the same song my own once had.”
Luke knew next to nothing about kyber crystals, but Din spoke with a gravity that underscored the importance, or perhaps rarity of that occurrence.
“Y-you took it?”
“Mm-hm. I had to meet you.”
He began to scissor his fingers apart, gently stretching Luke’s walls wider to get him to fully relax.
“It means our souls resonate together.”
Din curled his fingers, finding a spot inside of Luke that made him jerk his hips and gasp. Luke tried to ask another question, but only incoherent noises spilled from his mouth.
“You felt it too. When we met, when we kissed. You’re my echo. My lûta.”
“Nn — mm — “ was all Luke could manage while wrapped around Din’s expertly sinful fingers.
Din finally pulled out of him, leaving Luke shuddering and feeling empty. Too empty.
“O-or,” Luke panted, “you’re my echo.”
He looked up through his lashes at Din, who only laughed.
“I’m older, dearest. I came first.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Luke slid down in the water nearly to his shoulders. He angled Din’s cock so that it pressed against his rim. Din grabbed his waist to press in, but Luke nipped at his collarbone and tsked.
He dragged himself along Din’s length for a few teasing moments. Din dug his fingertips into Luke’s waist, but did not push forward before Luke let him. He narrowed eyes that had darkened to a burnished gold.
“You think you can tease me, little lûta?”
Luke smirked at him. “I don’t need to think that I can.”
He relented nonetheless. It was too much for him, too. Luke let himself sink onto Din’s cock. The hands on his waist dragged him down the rest of the way, pulling him through the buoyancy working against them.
Luke held there for a few seconds, shivering despite the blistering water around them. He had used his own fingers, and had fantasized, but had never had someone else inside of him. Trysts that seemed to be heading that way always seemed to be cut short. He thought that it couldn’t always feel so right, almost perfect. That part has to be all Din.
A warm, wet hand cupped his cheek. “Still with me?”
Luke nodded into Din’s palm without opening his eyes. He began a slow, experimental rhythm as he adjusted to this new feeling of fullness. Din’s hands returned to his hips, anchoring him in the water.
“Fuck,” Luke’s head lolled back as he lost himself in sensation. The bond that had drawn them together, that let him feel Din so completely, added a new layer to their intimacy. His hips moved on their own, picking up speed with each thrust.
He had only known quick grasps at connection. Stolen boyhood kisses that ended only in a blush so bad his aunt had thought him sunburned. More desperate, furtive touches in the Rebellion, to soothe nerves before or after battle. Never had he had the time to linger, to feel each motion so deeply that it nearly became meditative.
Luke did not ever want anything or anyone else again. They felt molded for each other, as if they were truly and completely one being. He did not worry he was doing something wrong, Din echoed his own feelings back at him. Their closeness and joy reverberated through the Force, looping back in on itself until Luke felt tears prick the corners of his eyes.
He found himself tilting back further as his eyes slid closed. Something without form cupped the back of his head, helping to support his weight. Din’s hands slid down, cupping his cheeks. He shifted underneath him, changing the angle of their lovemaking. He pressed against a new spot, and Luke’s eyes flew open.
“Ah — aah — aah-haa — ! Din!”
“Yes, there you go. Mmnh — yes, little lûta.”
Luke’s hips and eyes rolled, now faster than he thought he could move surrounded by so much water. His fingernails dug into Din’s arms. Perhaps they drew blood, but he was not aware enough to tell. All he knew was the feel of Din under him, Din inside him, Din’s emotions echoing through his head.
“Din,” he said again, naming the man he barely knew yet never wanted to be without, “Din. Din! Din!”
His orgasm made him curl forward, into Din’s chest. Din kept moving throughout, ensuring that he completely milked Luke’s pleasure from him until Luke was left quivering in his arms.
Luke panted, mouth pressed against Din’s collarbone. He could feel Din’s pounding pulse beneath his lips. On a whim he bit down and sucked, leaving his own claim.
“Fuck!” That was enough to send Din over as well. He wrapped his arms around Luke’s waist, holding him tight as he came inside of him.
They remained draped around each other for a long time, enjoying the sleepy feeling of their sated bodies in the warm bath. Luke kept his face pressed against Din’s neck, feeling his pulse beat against his forehead.
When it was time to get out, Din produced a pair of thick, fluffy towels that looked too large for either of them. Luke laughed, he had never seen such an absurd thing, but wrapped himself in one. It would prevent the ship’s recirculated air from cooling his skin too quickly.
Din leaned in to press a quick kiss into his lips, then pulled back.
“I have a call to make. It will be quick. Don’t leave.”
It was something between a request and a command. Din disappeared into another section of his quarters. Perhaps a study, Luke thought. Or a bedroom. It still seemed like too much space for a ship, but the thing was huge and obviously built and maintained for luxury.
Luke wandered back to the room he had woken up in. His head felt better, nevermind the sodden bandage that had begun to slip down the side of his face. He glanced at his discarded clothes, but made no move to put them on. He was comfortable, and in no hurry.
Once he crossed the threshold, the kyber crystal that called him to this ship and this planet began to sing again. It pulsed gently in time with its song. The sound that was not a sound reached into his chest and grabbed hold of a deep part of him, urging him forward. Luke padded across the floor with bare feet, not feeling the cold tile.
The crystal had a custom stand, like all the kyber in the room. Luke picked it up between two fingers. It was easy, the kyber was not attached to its stand. He took a slow, steadying breath and focused on calling the Force to him through the crystal. In response it floated gently above his palm, where it continued to glow. It felt like his, like home, like a part of him that he had not realized was missing.
It felt exactly the same way Din did.
Luke was pulled from his reverie when Din’s arms wrapped around him from behind. He jumped, he had not heard Din enter the room or approach him. Din laughed.
“Gentle, lûta. It’s easy to get sucked into your kyber’s song, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said immediately. He moved to replace the kyber, embarrassed that he had touched part of Din’s collection unasked. Din placed a hand over Luke’s, keeping him from releasing the crystal.
“I told you, it’s yours. It always has been. I only moved it to my ship.”
Luke swallowed, but closed his hand around the crystal again. He did not know what he would do with it, he was not going to throw away his father’s saber. All he knew for certain was that he would keep it close, always.
“What do the others sound like?” he asked, softly.
Din hummed thoughtfully, and led Luke backwards until he sat in the room’s only armchair. He pulled Luke into his lap and placed his chin on his shoulder.
“Let me show you. Open yourself to me.”
“I think we already did that in the bathtub.”
Din laughed, and there was a brush of teeth across his shoulder. A friendly rebuke. Something began tapping at Luke’s rudimentary mental shields, asking permission to slip inside him in a much more intimate way.
It look Luke a moment to work out how to purposefully lower his shields, almost all of his abilities were adhoc and learned alone. Since he figured out how to build shields to keep unwanted Force presences out, he had not needed to lower them.
When he managed it, Din was a surprisingly cold presence in his head. It was a little uncomfortable, almost wrong in a way Luke could not articulate. Before he could ask about it, the kyber began to sing.
Every crystal in the room lit up, glowing a myriad of colors. Each song was unique, but in such close proximity they harmonized until it seemed to be one. Luke watched and listened in awe at the symphony that played for the two of them alone.
It was a little sad, in a way. Each of these crystals called for a Jedi who might have no longer lived. Or for someone who did not yet know how to touch the Force. He looked at his own kyber, its light still pulsing gently in his palm.
Dins lips played over the back of his neck. He gently nibbled between kisses, soothing away the light melancholy. Luke sighed and leaned into it, turning his head slightly.
His eyes began to sink closed. He was so warm, so tired. And he had not felt this safe in a long time.
“Hey now,” Din’s voice murmured against his ear. “Don’t fall asleep before we have a chance to go again.”
Luke spluttered a sleepy laugh.
“Again? I don’t think I can move.”
Din hummed, mostly to himself. He stood, still holding Luke. He set him down on the chaise and pulled at the edges of his towel. Luke half-heartedly fought off Din’s efforts to unwrap him, but eventually gave in with a huff of false indignation.
“You don’t have to do anything, lûta,” Din said. He began to trail kisses down his chest.
Luke wound the fingers of his free hand into Din’s hair and sighed. This was not where he expected to end up when he resolved to sneak on board a crime syndicate starship, but he had no complaints.
The kybersong continued as Din’s head slipped lower. He hitched Luke’s legs over his shoulders and the kyber in Luke’s hands joined the chorus. Luke let himself float, in the Force, in Din, in the music. It was as close to content as he had ever felt.