Archive of Our Own

“Din’ika,” his buir says, drawing his attention away from the fire he’s been staring at for the past ten seconds. Din makes a small sound to indicate he’s listening. “You’re staying with Boba tonight.”

“What? Why?” he groans.

He’d rather sleep outside and risk getting eaten by one of the dangerous predators living on this planet than have to ask Boba if he can stay with him on the Slave I. The ship is a karking mess, and the shabuir will make him sleep on the floor or worse, in one of the cells, because the cots are ridiculously small and he’s still not over the fact that Din is taller than him.

His buir doesn’t reply, but she’s looking forward intently. Din follows her gaze to find the Mirialan woman who is staring right back at his buir with a smug smile on her lips.

Din gags. “You’re not serious,” he hisses.

His buir finally looks at him and tilts her head. Din groans. “Fine, whatever. But you’re telling Boba,” he mutters.

He should have known. The second the Mirialan traders offered to stay and share their food with them to thank them for helping them retrieve their stolen merchandise, Din should have known this would happen.

His buir is… good at making friends. It’s usually pretty useful, but Din hates it when it means he’s getting kicked out of his bed just so she can get laid. The Mirialans have two large tents, built a bit further away from the ships, but there’s ten adults seated around the large fire and five kids running around. Din supposes it’s easier to kick him out rather than a whole bunch of them.

They seem nice enough, he’s pretty sure he could ask them if he could take— Leanna, was it? Leanna’s spot, but Din kind of wants to get out of armor tonight. He’s been wearing it non-stop for the past week and he’s in desperate need of a sonic and some time out of his beskar’gam.

“Sure,” his buir shrugs and pings Boba’s comm.

“What?” he answers with that drawl Din hates so much.

“Are you done checking the perimeter?”

“Almost. Why?”

“Din will be staying with you tonight,” buir says and Din can hear her smile. He closes his eyes.

“What? Wh— oh, kark you!” he exclaims. “What if I wanted to get laid tonight?”

Din sputters, but his buir simply shrugs. “You should have said something sooner.”

“That’s banthashit. I don’t have to tell you that kind of stuff,” Boba mutters petulantly.

“And that’s why I’m getting laid and you aren’t.”

Boba makes an outraged noise and disconnects his comm.

“That went well,” buir says.

Din grunts and opens his eyes to stare at the fire sullenly. Boba’s going to be even more annoying, and Din is seriously considering spending the night outside at this point.

Unlike him, the Mirialans are in high spirits tonight. Now that everyone is done eating, the eldest of the group of traders bids them all goodnight and takes the youngest children to bed. Leanna’s brothers bring back a large crate filled with bottles of wine, and it’s hard to keep sulking when the traders pull out instruments and start playing songs while pouring alcohol.

Din can’t help but snicker when Leanna suddenly walks over to his buir and pulls her to her feet before dragging her into a dance she has no idea how to follow.

That’s the moment Boba chooses to return from walking the perimeter with the other Mirialan who volunteered to accompany him. He pauses at the sight of the traders dancing around the fire, and Din sees the way his fingers squeeze his rifle in an angry gesture. The Mirialan opens his mouth to say something, but Boba doesn’t give him the time to speak before he quickly stomps across the camp and heads towards the Slave I.

The Mirialan looks confused and a bit disappointed as well.

Wait. Was Boba serious?

Din feels his cheeks heating under his buy'ce. Kriff, but he didn’t need to know that. He really didn’t need to know that.

The Mirialan walks over to the fire and smiles when the woman seated next to Din hands him a plate they saved for him. He sits down and immediately starts digging in. Din is glaring at him. He realizes he’s glaring at him and immediately shakes his head, annoyed by his own reaction.

“We also saved some for your friend, should I bring it to him?” a voice asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. Din shifts his head to look at the woman seated next to him.

“He’s being rude, he doesn’t deserve your kindness,” Din mutters.

“Hm, perhaps, but it would be a waste of food.”

Din sighs. How is it that Boba is older than him but still manages to act like a child whenever things don’t go his way? And how come Din is always the one who has to make an extra effort to reach out or fix his mess?

“I’ll bring it to him,” he finally says.

The woman gives him a bright smile and fills a large bowl with the spicy stew they prepared before handing it out to him. Din gets on his feet and grabs it carefully.

“Take this too,” another woman says before handing a bottle of wine with a wink. “You boys deserve it after what you did for us.”

Din opens his mouth to refuse politely because he doesn’t really drink and he definitely doesn’t with Boba, but he figures the shabuir might be more inclined to be less of a dick if Din bribes him with food and wine.

“Thank you, I’m sure he’ll appreciate your generosity,” Din says and grabs the bottle of wine.

He’s pretty sure Boba won’t, because no matter how much buir has been trying to teach him some manners during the past three years, Fett is still as well-behaved as a feral nexu. But they don’t need to know that.

Din heads towards the ships, he stops by the Razor Crest first to retrieve some clean clothes just in case buir decides to call it a night early, and makes his way towards the Slave I. He isn’t surprised to find the door locked and rolls his eyes before pinging Boba.

“I have food, open up,” Din says before Boba can say anything.

Boba doesn’t speak, but the door opens. Din enters the Slave I and looks around with a frown. The cargo bay is empty, so he walks over to the ladder that leads towards the living quarters and pauses there.

“Can you come here? I can’t climb with my hands full,” he calls and tries his best not to sound too annoyed. He doesn’t succeed much.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoes above him, and Boba’s helmeted head finally appears at the top of the ladder. He crouches down and extends a hand, so Din passes him the bowl of stew and the wine. He waits for Boba to move out of the way before he climbs the ladder and hauls himself up.

“What are you doing?” Boba growls at him.

“The wine’s for the both of us,” Din snaps back.

Boba makes an annoyed sound, but he turns on his heels and heads towards his room. Din follows him and almost bumps into him when he suddenly stops at the door.

“Take off your dirty boots,” Boba grunts.

Din looks down at his feet and the mud covering them with a frown. “Whole ship’s a mess anyway,” he mutters.

“Say that again?” Boba snarls.

Din rolls his eyes, but he bends down and unties his boots before leaving them at the door. Boba pulls the chair from under his desk and drags it on the floor to make it face the wall opposite his bunk. He puts the wine on his bedside table and sits down on his bed. Din quickly sits on the chair so Boba can remove his helmet and start eating.

He knows this is more for Din himself than for Boba. Boba only follows the Creed because buir and thus Din do, but it doesn’t mean much to him. He’s taken his helmet off in front of others before and he wouldn’t mind doing it again, but he also doesn’t mind keeping the helmet on. This is my face, he’d told buir once, what’s underneath doesn’t matter.

Boba is weird. He’s weird and rude and annoying, and he keeps saying he can leave anytime and never see them again, but he still hasn’t, and Din doubts he ever will.

Despite everything, Din also thinks he doesn’t want him to.

Mainly because it would break buir’s heart. She hasn’t said the words because she knows Boba wouldn’t accept them, but Boba is still her Foundling, no matter how much he protests whenever she reminds him.

And, well. Boba gets on his nerves ninety percent of the time, but Din trusts him with his life. He just wishes he wasn’t so difficult all the time.

“Shit, this is pretty good,” Boba moans around a mouthful behind him.

“Better than buir’s cooking,” Din agrees.

Boba snorts. “Like that’s hard.”

He’s… not wrong. Buir is good at a lot of things, but cooking isn’t one of them. There’s a reason Din started learning how to cook recently. “I helped them make it, I could probably make it again in the future.”

Boba hums and keeps eating. Din fiddles with the clothes on his lap and stares at the wall in front of him. “I need a shower,” he says after a beat. “Can I take one here?”

Boba makes a low sound at the back of his throat. “Fine. Don’t use all the water, I need one too.”

“I don’t mind taking a sonic.”

“Fuck that, if you’re staying on my ship, you’re taking a proper shower.”

Din rolls his eyes. Boba Fett and his opinion on showers. Din stands up and heads towards the ‘fresher. He locks the door and takes off his helmet before peeling off his armor piece by piece to stack them in a neat pile on the floor. Once he’s done, Din opens his flight suit and scrunches up his nose at his own scent.

Karking hells.

He definitely needs that shower, but first, Din finishes getting rid of his clothes and hangs them inside the shower before starting the sonic. A couple of minutes should be enough, but he still gives them a cautious sniff once it’s done to make sure they don’t need more. Satisfied, he folds the clothes and puts them on the edge of the sink before stepping inside the cubicle.

The water is cold at first, and Din clenches his teeth to hold back a startled yelp. Thankfully, it quickly warms up, and Din bends his head under the shower head with a satisfied grunt. Din truly doesn’t mind sonic showers, but it’s true that hot water does feel good. He’s tempted to linger a bit, but Boba would kill him if he emptied what’s left of his water tank, so he makes it quick.

Once clean, Din activates the sonic to dry himself off and gets out of the cubicle to get dressed. He secures his helmet last and grabs the piled up armor and folded clothes before unlocking the door.

“Can I come out?” he asks loudly.

“Yeah.”

Din opens the door and finds Boba out of armor save for the helmet, holding a towel and some clothes. “Don’t open the wine without me,” he mutters, and Din quickly gets out of the way before Boba enters the ‘fresher.

He locks the door behind him, and Din rolls his eyes. Boba’s desk is a karking mess, but Din pushes the pile of junks and clothes and electronic parts to put down his armor and clothes.

The whole room is a mess. Buir is never up here and it shows, because she would lose her karking mind over the state of the ship. Not that it would change anything, because Boba would remind her that she’s not his father and can’t make him do shit, but Din still thinks he should be shamed for this.

There’s a holopicture on the bedside table. Din has seen it before, and he knows what to expect, but he still feels weird, like he shouldn’t be seeing this. Boba doesn’t mind people seeing his face - at least not for the same reasons Din would - and this was taken before buir found him, but Din still feels like he’s doing something wrong.

Boba doesn’t seem much older than six or seven in that picture. He’s perched on his father’s back with his arms wrapped around his neck and his cheek pressed against Fett’s. His hair is a mess of dark curls framing a round face and he has the biggest smile Din has ever seen. He’s also missing two front teeth, which honestly makes it a bit funny.

Jango Fett is much more composed, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips and his dark eyes are warm.

Din isn’t sure why looking at that holopicture makes him feel like shit. Is it because he doesn’t need to see Boba’s face to know he probably hasn’t smiled like this since his father died? Because he knows he’s looking at what will essentially be Boba’s face in a few years when he stares at the man carrying him in that picture? Or perhaps because Din doesn’t even remember what his parents used to look like and doesn’t have any holos to remember them by?

Din sighs and tears his gaze away from the holopicture. As if on cue, the ‘fresher door opens and Din turns around to watch Boba walk out with a cloud of steam following him. He walks over to his bed and slumps down on it before grabbing the bottle of wine. He looks at it, tilting his head in a thoughtful gesture.

“What kind of wine is that? I can’t read the label.”

Din shrugs. “No idea.”

“It better be good,” Boba mutters and opens it with a loud pop. He reaches for his helmet, but pauses before he can lift it up.

Boba sighs and shifts on his bed, crossing his legs and presenting his back to Din. “C’m’ere,” he says. Sit behind me. Back to back.”

Din arches a brow. Well, if the mighty Boba Fett allows him to sit on his bed… who is Din to refuse? Din copies him, sitting cross-legged on the bed and facing the other side of the room. He hears Boba taking off his helmet and giving the wine a curious sniff before taking a gulp. From the pleased sound he makes, Din figures he likes it.

“Not bad,” he says.

Boba’s elbow bumps against his when he reaches behind him to blindly hand him the bottle. Din grabs it and lifts his helmet to take a tentative gulp.

It is indeed not bad. It’s actually kind of sweet, but not too much, and it doesn’t really feel like drinking alcohol. Din takes another sip before handing back the bottle to Boba.

“I like it,” he says.

Boba hums, but he doesn’t add anything. They both lapse into silence as they keep trading the bottle. It’s— a bit weird, but not bad. They’re actually pretty good at standing next to each other and remaining silent. It’s probably how Din prefers Boba, as a quiet, warm, and solid presence at his back. He can feel him slowly relaxing behind him, and Din thinks he probably does the same. His belly is full thanks to the Mirialans, he’s finally clean and wearing fresh clothes, and it feels good to be out of armor. Din feels warm and content and he realizes it’s probably because of the wine, but it is very good and he doesn’t feel like stopping.

Din takes a few gulps and passes the bottle to Boba. “Were you really going to kriff that guy?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Boba pauses for a second and grabs the bottle. “Sure. Why? He caught your eye too?” he snickers. “Wait,” he adds before Din can sputter and deny the accusation. “Has it happened before? Someone catching your eye?”

Din frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve never seen you interested in anyone.”

That’s not the conversation Din expected his question to spark. He’s not sure what he expected, but definitely not this. He doesn’t think he wants to answer.

“It’s fine if you aren’t,” Boba says when he realizes Din’s not going to say anything. “Interested in people.”

“It’s not that,” Din mutters and reaches behind him, wiggling his fingers to ask for the bottle. Boba presses it against his hand and Din grabs it before bringing it to his mouth to take a few gulps.

“What is it, then?”

Din sighs. Well, he might as well go for it and be honest. “I don’t know how you do it. Kriffing people you just met.”

“Well, first you take them somewhere private, or not if that’s your thing, then—” Boba sputters when Din shoves his elbow into his back.

“That’s not what I meant, shabuir,” Din growls.

“Fine,” Boba hisses. “What is it then? Too scared you’ll be bad at it? All the more reason to do it with someone you’ll never see again,” he says with a shrug.

“What? No.” Yes. Maybe. “And that’s stupid. Is that why you do it?”

Boba makes an offended noise. “Hey, we’re talking about you, not me. Give me the bottle,” he orders. Din does. “What’s stopping you then?”

Din groans. “I just— I don’t think I can do this with someone I don’t know,” he mutters. He really doesn’t know how to explain it better than this. He doesn’t think he understands it completely, it’s just… a feeling.

Boba hums thoughtfully. “You know plenty of people, though. And I can’t blame you ‘cause I’d rather die than fuck a Vizsla, but you always look super uncomfortable when he tries to get into your pants. Whenever anyone tries to get into your pants.”

Din’s face feels hot under his helmet. “That’s— I don’t— it’s Paz,” he groans, unable to find a better word to explain just how wrong it feels to imagine himself having sex with Paz Vizsla. They’ve been at each other’s throats since Din joined the tribe, but not in a way that makes his blood boil for anything other than violence. Not like it does whenever he butts heads with Boba.

Kriff.

“Hey, you won’t hear me disagree with you on this one. What about the others?”

“I don’t feel it.”

“You don’t feel it. What, you gotta fall in love first?” Boba snickers.

Din chokes. Shit, he sure hopes not.

“Nooo,” Din whines. “It’s just… I don’t know, it’s weird,” he mumbles.

Boba hands him the bottle of wine. It’s almost empty; Din lifts his helmet and brings the bottle to his mouth. Boba suddenly leans against his back and Din almost chokes on the wine, his body tensing at the unexpected proximity. Din stays still and waits, but Boba doesn’t move away and doesn’t do anything else. He’s just. Resting against Din.

“So you’ve never, like, seen someone and thought ‘kark, I’d tap that’?” Boba suddenly asks thoughtfully.

Din groans. “I didn’t say that.”

“Okay. You do want to fuck. You just don’t want to fuck someone you don’t know.”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t want to fuck the people you do know either.”

“I said I didn’t want to fuck Paz,” Din mutters.

“You don’t want to fuck Paz, nor Idan, Nour, Elay, that chick from Station-145 who really wants to suck your dick, Ji—”

“Wow, wow, wait, stop,” Din chokes. “Where do all those people come from? What chick from Station-145? Mia?”

“Din. She’d literally choke on your dick if you asked her to.”

Din’s face burns under his helmet. “Karking hells, Boba, don’t say shit like that.”

“Why? Does it gross you out? Or are you getting a little bit excited?”

“Shut up.”

“She’s pretty good at it,” Boba says smugly.

Din’s breath hitches at the mental image he gets just from hearing those words. His stomach clenches and he suddenly feels like the alcohol running through his veins has been set on fire.

“That didn’t sound like disgust,” Boba snickers.

Din recoils from him, shame making his cheeks burn and his stomach churn with a sudden wave of nausea. Boba yelps indignantly as Din’s sudden motion almost makes him fall backwards onto the bed.

“Aw, come on! Don’t be like that, I’m sure she’ll suck your dick too if you ask nicely!”

“Oh for kark’s sake, shut up!” Din hisses and leaps out of Boba’s bed.

“Hey, what’s wrong— Din!” Boba exclaims and suddenly wraps a hand around Din’s wrist to stop him from stomping out of the room. “Give me the wine if you’re going to be a baby about this.”

What a fucking dick. Din growls and yanks his wrist out of Boba’s grip. Boba immediately scrambles to his feet and tries to grab the bottle, but Din dodges him and starts heading towards the exit. Boba makes a frustrated sound and tries to trip him. Din swears as he almost plants his face into the door, and Boba makes another move to take the bottle from him. Din whirls around to grab Boba by the collar of his shirt, slams him against the door with all his strength and crowds him until his forehead is almost pressed against Boba’s.

He didn’t put his helmet back on.

Din’s breath hitches and he goes still as he can only stare at Boba’s wide eyes, his flushed face and parted lips, the freckles dusting his nose and cheeks.

Shit, he’s beautiful.

“You—” Din croaks out and growls when he feels Boba trying to reach for the bottle again.

Din puts it out of reach and tries to ignore the way his heart stutters inside his chest at the sight of Boba’s feral grin as he pushes on his toes to try to reach for it. The motion brings him closer to Din and soon, he’s pressed flush against him, like he’s trying to climb Din in order to get to the karking bottle of wine.

Din’s brain short-circuits when he feels something hard pressed against him and realizes what it is.

Boba is hard.

Boba is hard and it’s probably just the wine and the discussion they were having, but Din’s had too much to drink too, and he’s feeling brave and stupid. He drops the bottle of wine, ignores the way it crashes down and Boba’s outraged What the fuck, Din?! to grab his hands and pin them against the door before shifting a thigh between Boba’s.

Boba goes very still.

Din wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, his heart beating so fast he can hear it thrumming in his ears, and shifts just enough to let Boba feel his own erection against his hip.

Boba’s eyes go wide. “You—” he starts and Din can’t take his eyes away from the dark flush rising on Boba’s cheeks. “I thought you—” He snaps his mouth shut and studies Din with something akin to wonder on his face. “You don’t want to fuck Mia,” he says hoarsely. He’s trying to hide it, but he looks so hopeful Din feels a jolt of electricity running along his spine.

“I don’t give a shit about Mia,” Din says gruffly.

“Oh, fuck,” Boba gasps as Din shifts his thigh up. His hips buck, and Din hisses at the friction against his own cock. “You— Really?” Boba says. “Me?”

“Unfortunately,” Din admits, because it’s too late to back down now.

“Shit,” Boba swears. He’s grinding his cock against Din’s thigh, his brows furrowed as he starts struggling against Din’s grip on his wrists. “Shit, fuck, let me— Din. You want this? Are we doing this? Tell me we’re doing this.”

Din’s heart skips a beat, but he has to take a second to think about it. Is he really doing this? He’s been wanting it for a while now, and it was fine to ignore the way fighting with Boba made his blood sing. Boba never showed any interest before, and Din wasn’t going to try anything foolish considering how rocky their relationship already is.

But Boba is showing interest now.

Boba wants him. And if he only wants him because thinking about Mia from Station-145 got him all fired up, then Din needs to make him forget about her.

“Yes,” he rasps and lets go of Boba’s wrists.

Boba makes a keening sound and immediately pushes Din away. Din lets out a startled yelp and barely avoids stepping on the glass shards and the spilled wine on the floor. Boba is already on him and he keeps pushing, forcing Din to walk backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of Boba’s bunk.

“I want to suck your dick,” Boba says. Din’s knees buckle under his weight, and Boba only needs one more push to make him sit down. “I really want to suck your dick. Please let me suck your dick.”

Din’s head spins, and his cock twitches inside his pants, and there’s a voice screaming yes, yes, please, yes in his head, but he can’t make himself say the words because Boba Fett wants to suck his dick.

Boba’s already getting on his knees before him. He looks up at Din, his eyes dark and wide because he’s not wearing his helmet, and Din should feel bad for staring, but Boba doesn’t mind and he wants to suck his dick.

Din nods jerkily, and it’s all the permission Boba needs before he starts tugging at Din’s waistband. Din lifts his hips to help him drag his pants and shorts down. His cock springs free, and Din can’t hold back a hiss, his whole face burning hot at the way Boba’s eyes immediately zero in on his cock.

“Shit,” Boba croaks out, his eyes growing wide.

What? Is that bad? Din can’t tell. He opens his mouth to ask him what’s wrong (Does it look weird? Does he have a weird dick? Please don’t let him have a weird dick), but Boba wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. Din throws his head back with a moan, his hips automatically bucking into the sudden heat formed by Boba’s fist.

Boba is touching him. Boba is touching his dick. Boba is—

“F-fuuuuck,” Din moans at the feeling of something hot and wet meeting the head of his cock. He shifts his head to look down and finds Boba looking up at him with his mouth stretched around the tip of his cock, and the image is almost enough to send him over the edge.

Din buries his fingers in the sheets and holds onto them before biting the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from humiliating himself.

He quickly looks away because he can’t stare at Boba while he’s doing this, but it doesn’t help much, not when Boba takes him further into his mouth and starts stroking the rest of his cock with his hand.

“Boba,” he gasps, not sure what else he can do.

Boba hums around his cock, and that’s— fuck that’s gorgeous. Din’s hips thrust forward, and Boba makes a surprised sound as he goes too deep, too fast, and pulls away with a gasp.

“Shit,” Din curses and straightens up to check on Boba. “Shit, sorry.”

Boba glares at him. “Careful,” he croaks out. “I’m trying to do something hot here, not puke all over your dick.”

Din groans and flops back down on the bed. “Karking hells, Boba, you’re so fucking gross.”

Boba hums. “At least you’re not two seconds away from shooting your load anymore, right?” he says smugly.

“You need to stop talking.”

“Make me.”

Din’s breath hitches. He straightens up to look at Boba and something hot coils in his gut at the challenging expression he finds on his face. Well, shit. Din moves before he can second guess himself and buries his fingers in Boba’s hair. It’s still a bit wet, but it’s soft and it feels good and right, so Din tugs on the curls, and Boba’s pupils grow so big his eyes appear entirely black in the dim light.

Slowly, Din brings Boba closer to his cock and watches, enthralled, as Boba lets him, his eyes fluttering shut as Din keeps pushing until Boba’s lips touch the head of his cock. Boba gently pulls back his foreskin and parts his lips to let his tongue stroke the tip of his cock and Din can’t hold back a moan as the sensation lights a fire in his body.

Din gives Boba’s hair another tug, and Boba moans before opening his mouth to take him in. Din’s hand shakes, and he has to resist the urge to thrust inside Boba’s mouth. He breathes deeply through his nose and gently pushes Boba down, moaning as he watches his cock slowly disappear inside Boba’s mouth.

“Stars, Boba,” Din rasps. “Boba, that’s so good, you’re so fucking good.”

Boba makes a low, wet sound at the back of his throat, his brows furrowing as his other hand disappears between his legs, and Din almost comes then and there because Boba is touching himself, he’s jerking off with Din’s cock in his mouth and that’s the hottest thing Din’s ever seen in his entire karking life.

He tugs on Boba’s hair, forcing him to pull away with a gasp, before he pushes him back down onto his cock. Boba gets the message and starts bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks and flattening his tongue against the underside of Din’s cock. It’s so hot and tight and messy, Din wants to come down his throat, he wants to come on Boba’s face, he doesn’t want this to end.

Din wrenches Boba off his cock before his orgasm overtakes him. He’s shaking all over, his chest heaving as he struggles to find his breathing. Boba is kneeling between his legs with his dick out, his face flushed and his lips red and shiny with spit, yet he manages to look so smug, Din wants to punch him in the face.

Or worse, kiss him.

“I want—” he starts. He doesn’t know what he wants. No, that’s a lie. He knows exactly what he wants. “C’m’ere,” he mutters and fists Boba’s shirt to pull him closer.

Boba snickers, but he comes willingly and straightens up before climbing on Din’s lap. Din wraps an arm around Boba’s waist and pulls him closer until he’s pressed flush against him. Boba moans and grinds his hips; Din curses at the friction against his cock. Boba chuckles and wraps a hand around the back of Din’s neck before slipping his fingers underneath his helmet. Din doesn’t react the way he usually does whenever anyone dares coming this close to his helmet, he trusts Boba, and he’s rewarded by the feeling of those fingers taking hold of his hair in a tight grip. Din growls when Boba pulls on his hair and goes with the motion, exposing his throat and moaning when a hot mouth finds his neck.

Boba sucks a bite into his neck, and Din feels like he’s suffocating under his helmet. It’s like all his nerve-endings have been lit on fire, starting from that point Boba’s mouth is touching. A scrap of teeth against the column of his throat makes him jolt, and Din scrambles to hold onto something. His hands find Boba’s thighs on each side of his waist, and Din squeezes them before moving up when he realizes he can keep touching, he’s allowed to.

He grabs Boba’s ass, and the sound he makes against his throat only encourages Din further. Din slips his hands underneath Boba’s pants and slides them down until he can take a hold of Boba’s bare ass this time.

It’s such a gorgeous fucking piece of ass, Din never wants to let go.

But he also wants more. He wants to touch Boba everywhere. He wants to see him naked, he wants to make him come so hard Boba forgets about Mia and that Mirialan guy and all the other people he’s had sex with.

Din growls and suddenly shifts their position, pulling a surprised yelp out of Boba as he makes him lie back flat on his back. Boba blinks, stunned, and Din straightens up to start tugging on his pants.

“Off,” he says. “Take these off.”

Boba curses and lifts his hips, Din drags his pants down and gets them entirely out of the way before throwing them somewhere on the floor. Boba sits up and starts pulling on Din’s shirt. “You too,” he says and Din lifts his arms to let him peel it off. Boba makes a move to finish taking off Din’s pants, but Din’s already working on his shirt and Boba’s forehead bumps against Din’s cheek.

“Watch it,” Boba groans, rubbing his forehead.

“Sorry,” Din mutters. “I’ll uh— do it myself.”

He fumbles with his pants while Boba swiftly removes his shirt, and after a bit of shifting and struggling, Din finds himself kneeling between Boba’s legs, naked.

And Boba is naked too.

Din lets his gaze roam across the expanse of smooth, tan skin exposed before him. There’s a few pale lines marking Boba’s body, on his thighs, his left arm. The biggest scar is the one covering most of his right flank, the one that almost cost him his life. It would have, if buir hadn’t found him.

Even when Boba is at his worst, Din is so fucking glad she did.

Din’s fingers are a bit shaky when he lets them brush against Boba’s left knee, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he trails them up Boba’s thigh. There’s dark hair covering them and Din watches as the muscles spasm under his touch, a shiver running through Boba as Din keeps going higher.

Boba’s cock is hard between his legs, framed by dark curly hairs that form a trail up to his navel. Din wets his lips with the tip of his tongue as he notices the bead of precum slowly dripping down the underside of Boba’s cock. He wants to taste it. He wants to put his mouth on Boba’s cock, he wants to make him moan and squirm under him like Boba did for him earlier.

“Din,” Boba’s voice sounds strained, and Din looks up to find him with his face buried in the crook of his elbow, a dark flush covering his cheeks and neck.

“Boba,” he says and leans forward. He grabs Boba’s wrist to pry his arm away from his face and pin it to the mattress. Din bends down and presses his forehead against Boba’s. “Can I kriff you?” he asks hoarsely.

Boba’s eyes grow wide, and he tenses under him. Din pulls back.

“Or not. We don’t have to. We can do something else. Or stop. I—”

“Shut up,” Boba mutters.

Din winces. “I’m sorry, I just thought— I’ll uh, yeah,” he babbles and tries to straighten up, suddenly feeling awful and gross and stupid, but Boba wraps a hand around his neck in a firm grip to hold him still.

“I said shut up,” Boba hisses. “Karking hells, you’re so— I’m not fucking fragile.”

Din frowns. What does that have to do with what’s going on here? “I know that.”

“Then stop treating me like I am! I don’t need to stop, I just need a karking minute to think.”

Oh. That’s fair. But also— “I’m not treating you like you’re fragile,” Din mutters. “I thought I overstepped.”

“Overstepped.”

“Yes. We never agreed on how far we were willing to go. So, I asked, but we were already, y’know, naked. I just— didn’t want you to feel like you have to.”

Boba stares at him like Din just grew a second head and really, why is he acting like Din is the one acting weird here?

“Do I look like I do things I don’t want to do?” Boba asks and pinches his neck.

Din hisses and bats his hand away. “Why are you so difficult! I was just making sure, how is that a bad thing?” he exclaims.

Boba snaps his mouth shut. He looks conflicted for a second, before looking away with a sullen look on his face.

“It’s— not,” he finally mutters. “Fine. You can kriff me.”

Din snorts and drops his head. “Hot,” he mocks him and snatches Boba’s hands before he can try to pinch him again.

“I can also kick you out of my ship butt naked,” Boba snarls, baring his teeth.

“I’d rather kriff you.”

“Well then stop talking and get the lube. Wait,” he says before Din can move. “You do know how this works, right?”

Din falters a bit at that. “In theory?” He pauses. His throat clicks when he swallows. “Walk me through it?”

Boba mutters something he doesn’t quite catch, and Din lets go of his wrists when he makes a move to straighten up. Boba shifts on the bed and opens the drawer of the bedside table to retrieve a bottle and a strip of plasts. He puts the plasts on the bed and hands Din the bottle of lube.

“I’m not getting on all fours,” he mutters darkly.

Din grabs the lube. “Okay,” he says and thinks quickly. “Lie down on your back?”

Boba groans and shifts on the bed, his movements stiff and awkward as he lies down with a scowl. Din runs a hand on his calf before settling between his legs. Boba’s erection has gone down a bit, but that’s fine, because so did Din’s. He doesn’t think he can have a proper access like this, though. Din frowns, tilting his head, as he tries to figure out how he’s going to proceed. Boba looks tense and uncomfortable, and he doesn’t like that, so Din drops the bottle of lube for now and moves closer until he can rest the palm of his hand on Boba’s stomach.

Boba’s muscles tense under his hand, Din gently brushes his skin. He’s not going to ask him if he’s sure again because he’s pretty sure that’ll only earn him a kick in the face. It probably wouldn’t hurt Din much considering he’s wearing a helmet, but he’d still rather avoid it.

Din decides to explore instead. He runs his other hand through the coarse hair covering Boba’s thigh, Boba shivers under his touch and Din’s hand travels higher, until his fingers brush against Boba’s half hard cock.

Boba makes a low sound at the back of his throat and Din wants to hear more. With his left hand, he follows the dark trail that runs towards Boba’s navel, while the right goes higher until his thumb brushes against a nipple. Boba lets out a strangled gasp and jerks under the touch. Din looks up to find him biting at his lower lip, looking almost surprised by his own reaction.

“I thought you were going to kriff me,” Boba mutters.

Din gives his nipple a light pinch and can’t hold back a pleased smile when Boba curses and arches his back. Din likes this, so he does it again and watches as Boba’s mouth falls open on a moan.

“Fuck, Din, just touch me already,” Boba hisses.

“I am touching you.”

“I meant my dick.”

Din hums and looks down. Boba is hard again, and he supposes that was the goal, so he brings his right hand between Boba’s parted legs and tentatively wraps his fingers around his cock. Boba makes a pleased sound at that, so Din squeezes him tighter and starts stroking his cock. This, at least, is something he can’t really fuck up. He might not know what Boba likes exactly, but Din figures it can’t be that different from what he enjoys.

Actually, there’s something that would make this a lot better. Din uses his free hand to grab and uncap the bottle of lube before letting go of Boba’s cock to pour some onto his palm. Boba throws his head back and moans when Din starts stroking his cock again, the lube making everything better. Din pulls back the foreskin and brushes his thumb against the head of Boba’s cock, grinning when Boba’s eyes flutter shut and his hips start bucking into his fist.

Din keeps stroking Boba’s cock until he stops looking so uncomfortable and starts thinking about the next step. Boba refuses to get on his hands and knees, even though it would probably make things easier, but Din doesn’t mind. He actually prefers being able to see Boba’s face. This position isn’t going to work, though. Din grabs the back of Boba’s thigh to make him bend a knee and pushes his thigh towards his chest.

Boba’s eyes fly open, and he opens his mouth, but Din beats him to it: “Pass me your pillow?”

Boba scowls, but he does and lifts his hips up to let Din push the pillow under him. The new position leaves him much more exposed, and Din feels him try to close his legs, but he lets go of his cock to keep them spread and looks up at Boba.

“I can’t kriff you if you do that.”

“Well, stop staring and do something then,” Boba hisses and looks away.

Din resists the urge to tell him that he kinda needs to look at what he’s doing and grabs the bottle of lube instead. He opens it and pours some on his fingers.

“Start with one,” Boba says, his voice shaking a bit, and Din lets go of the lube to put a hand on his thigh and squeeze it gently.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Din swallows around the lump in his throat. Now this is unknown territory. Boba told him not to stare, but Din can’t really help it when his gaze trails down Boba’s flushed cock and balls and finds his exposed hole.

He just needs to take things slow. Din takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the way his hands shake as he reaches out and tentatively brushes his lubed finger against Boba’s hole. Boba twitches and the muscle in his thigh spasms under Din’s hand. Din pauses for a second, then gently starts rubbing the pad of his finger against Boba’s entrance.

His heart is beating so fast Din can hear it thrumming in his ears. He realizes he’s barely breathing and tries to calm down.

“Just— just put it in,” Boba mutters.

Din looks up to find Boba hiding his face into his elbow again. Din frowns as a thought suddenly crosses his mind.

Is it the first time Boba’s letting someone do this to him? He was looking pretty confident until now, and Din thought he was wary because he was worried about Din’s inexperience, but he’s starting to think it might not be the only reason.

Din wants to ask. He doesn’t.

He starts pushing his finger in, but he doesn’t get far before Boba tenses and clenches around him. Din stills. This isn’t going to work like this, is it? He wants to believe that Boba really wouldn’t do something he actually doesn’t want to do, so that means he’s probably just as nervous as Din is.

It’s comforting, in a way.

Din changes tactics. He lets go of Boba’s thigh and reaches for his cock. He’s not surprised when he doesn’t find it as hard as it was a few seconds ago, and wraps his fingers around the length to give it a couple of gentle strokes. Boba makes a quiet noise, and Din focuses on his cock, using the lube still coating it to jerk him off slowly.

Boba relaxes a bit around him, so Din pushes his finger further inside him and squeezes Boba’s cock to distract him from what he’s doing.

“You’re doing great,” Din says, his voice shaking a bit.

“D-don’t,” Boba stammers, but Din doesn’t miss the way his cock twitches in his hand.

“Am I hurting you?” Din asks, because he doesn’t think he is, but he also knows Boba would hide that from him.

“No,” Boba mutters.

“Okay. Good. How is it? C’mon, talk to me.”

“It’s fucking weird,” Boba snaps. “And it’s going to take ages at this rate.”

Din almost snorts, because it’s such a Boba thing to get upset because he can’t do something as fast as he decided he would, but he doesn’t think it would help right now.

“I have no idea how long this is supposed to take, you know,” he says instead.

“Just keep going,” Boba huffs.

Very helpful. Din can’t really go anywhere with how tightly Boba is clenching around his finger. He’s tempted to call it a night because he doesn’t want to hurt him, but that would definitely bruise Boba’s ego, and… well. Din doesn’t want that either.

“Hey,” he calls. “Give me your hand.”

Boba removes his arm from his face to stare at him with a confused look.

“Please?” Din insists.

Boba scowls, but he does and Din lets go of his cock to grab the lube and pours some onto Boba’s hand. He drops the bottle and reaches for Boba’s hand before guiding it to his cock. Boba’s breath hitches as Din makes him close his fingers around it and keeps guiding him into stroking himself.

The sight is enough to make Din’s own cock twitch between his legs, but he ignores it to focus on his goal. Gently, he tugs on Boba’s hand to make him slide down further and cup his balls, squeezing them lightly in a way that pulls a shaky moan out of Boba. Din doesn’t stop there and guides Boba’s finger towards his hole.

“What—” he chokes when Din pulls out his finger and makes Boba trace his hole with his own.

“Do it yourself, yeah?” Din whispers hoarsely. “Show me how to do it right.”

Boba hesitates, his brows furrowing as he bites down on his lower lip, but he nods jerkily and starts pushing his finger in. Din lets go of his hand to grab Boba’s thigh and brushes his thumb in a soothing gesture. Boba’s finger goes in with more ease than Din’s and he slowly breathes out through his nose.

“Are you just going to watch?” he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

“I’m learning,” Din reminds him. “Tell me what to do.”

Boba huffs. “If I have to put on a show, then so do you,” he says and there’s a hint of challenge there.

Din swallows roughly, but he reaches between his legs and closes a hand around his cock. “Like this?” he asks.

Boba nods, so Din starts stroking himself slowly, because the last thing he needs right now is to bring himself too close to the edge. “Don’t stop,” he reminds Boba.

Boba tears his gaze away from Din’s cock to glare at him, but he slowly starts moving his finger, pushing it a bit deeper as he shifts slightly to wrap his other hand around his own cock.

Kriff, that’s— that’s quite the view. Din can’t hold back the moan that forces itself out of his throat, his hips bucking into his fist when Boba echoes it with one of his own. Boba takes out his finger and gathers some lube before going back with two, his eyes falling shut and his lips parting on a breathless moan as he slowly pushes them inside his hole.

“Fuck, yes,” Din gasps and squeezes Boba’s thigh.

“Shit,” Boba hisses.

“Boba, that’s so hot,” Din whispers hoarsely.

“You talk too much,” Boba gasps, but there are two fingers stretching his hole and Din’s pretty sure his talking has played a big part in this achievement.

Boba starts moving his fingers in and out, and soon, he’s huffing and squirming as he tries to push his fingers deeper. “Shit, I can’t— can’t get it right,” he moans frustratedly.

Din stills and wets his lips. “I can— take over?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck, please.”

Din fumbles with the lube and pours some on his fingers before pressing them against Boba’s hole. He pushes them in slowly, a small awed noise falling off his lips at how easily he manages to slip his fingers inside Boba this time.

“Oh, fuck,” Boba moans, his walls fluttering around Din’s fingers.

Din pulls out slowly before pressing back in, again and again, enthralled by the sight of his fingers disappearing inside Boba’s body. He can’t quite breathe properly, because he’s suddenly hit by the fact that Boba is letting him do this to him. His head spins, the hand on Boba’s thigh trembling a bit as he remembers he’s probably the first one who gets to do this too. Boba’s kriffed other people before Din, but he’s never let anyone touch him like this, and he’s letting Din, even though Din had never even taken off his clothes before someone before tonight.

Din doesn’t just want to make it good for Boba. He wants to blow his mind, he wants Boba to never forget this, he wants Boba to never want anyone else.

Din twists his wrist and the motion pulls a new, wonderful sound out of Boba’s mouth. Din looks up to find him staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, his pupils huge and dark. Din might not have done this before, but he knows enough to realize what might have caused this and a shiver runs through him as a new objective starts forming in his mind.

Din wets his lips and tries to find that spot again. He slowly twists his fingers until he feels something different, the texture is not quite the same there, so Din slowly circles the spot with the pad of his fingers and Boba’s breath hitches, his thigh trembling slightly under Din’s hand.

Din presses harder against that spot and rubs his fingers against it, and this time, Boba lets a long, shuddering moan out, his hips stuttering and his cock twitching against his stomach.

“Fuck, Din,” he gasps as Din keeps circling his fingers, tentatively pressing in a bit more to find what works best.

“Yeah?” he asks breathlessly, feeling a bit like the first time he managed to take out a target with one, clean shot to the head.

Boba looks so good Din feels a bit dizzy. His skin is gleaming under the low light of his room, a thin shin ot sweat covering his chest and flushed face. Din hasn’t felt restricted by his Creed since he got used to wearing the helmet and working the HUD as a child, but he does now. It’s a suffocating feeling, one he can only withstand and push through, no matter how much he wants to get his mouth on Boba and taste him.

“Din,” Boba whimpers, his back arching and his legs trembling as Din’s fingers keep dragging over his prostate. “Din, kriff me.”

“I am kriffing you,” Din says, unable to stop the grin that stretches his lips.

Boba growls and throws his head back against the mattress. “With your dick, mir’sheb,” he snaps back.

“Is that enough?” Din asks with a frown, his tone more serious this time.

“You’re not that big,” Boba glares at him.

Din scoffs. “You were close to breaking my finger in half with your ass just a few minutes ago.”

Boba tries to kick him. Din grabs his ankle mid-air before pulling his fingers out and thrusting them back in. “You’re a karking menace,” he growls.

“Yeah? You gonna put me in my place?” Boba teases with a sharp grin.

Din’s stomach clenches, a searing flash of heat making his whole body tingle and stealing his breath away. He wants— Karking hells, he’s not falling for that. He’s not. Din breathes out slowly and realizes his grip on Boba’s ankle is so tight it must be painful, but Boba is staring at him with wide eyes, like there’s nothing he wants more than for Din to lose control and wreck him.

“Kark, kark, fine,” Din mutters hoarsely. He pulls his fingers out and frantically searches for the strip of plasts Boba took out of his bedside table earlier. He leans forward to grab it and tries to detach one, but his hands are shaking, and his fingers are slicked with lube and slippery.

Din curses and fights with the strip of plasts until Boba straightens up and takes it out of his hands.

“Let me,” he says.

Din’s shoulders sag in relief and he watches Boba detach a plast from the rest and tear the wrapping open. His fingers are shaking a bit too, Din notices, but he pulls out the plast and reaches between Din’s legs to put it on his cock. Din grits his teeth and breathes out through his nose as Boba’s fingers close around his cock to secure the plast. He runs his hands on Boba’s thighs and looks up to find him staring right back at him with anticipation written all over his face.

Din leans forward to press their foreheads together. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers because he needs Boba to know that. He needs him to remember that Din doesn’t know what he’s doing and to realize Din is scared shitless at the thought of fucking this up.

Boba makes a small, strangled sound, and closes his eyes. For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and Din waits, not sure what to do, but then Boba wraps his arms around Din’s neck and presses his lips against his helmet, right where Din’s mouth would be, and starts straddling his thighs.

Din feels dizzy again and he staggers, falling back onto his ass and shifting his legs so he’s sitting properly while Boba sits on his lap and looks at him, his gaze finding Din’s eyes easily despite the dark visor hiding them from him.

“Like this,” Boba says and lifts his hips, shuffling closer and positioning himself above Din’s cock. He reaches behind him to close his fingers around Din and guide his cock towards his entrance.

Din forgets how to breathe.

The tip of his cock meets Boba’s hole and Din’s hands surge forward to take hold of Boba’s thighs as he slowly starts sinking down his cock.

Din almost comes then and there.

The sound he lets out is close to a sob, and he feels tears gathering at the corner of his eyes as Boba keeps taking him deeper and deeper. Boba is so warm, so tight, Din has never felt anything like this, not even when Boba had his mouth on him earlier. It’s like his whole world has been reduced to Boba, to the tight heat wrapped around his cock, the hands gripping his shoulders, the way Boba pants and whines as he keeps sinking down his cock.

“Boba,” Din moans and grips Boba’s thighs tighter. “Bo— kriff, Boba, you’re so good, you feel— you feel so kriffing good,” he starts babbling. Boba swears and works what’s left of Din’s cock inside him with a shuddering moan.

Boba stills, his thighs trembling under Din’s hands, and Din feels like he’s going to die.

“Boba, Boba,” he chokes. “How d’you feel so good, how— I’m so close, I’m so fucking close, please don’t move, I want—” he gasps for air, shivering all over. “I want to make you feel good, I don’t— I don’t want this to end.”

“Din, you— you need to stop— stop talking,” Boba croaks out and buries his face against Din’s shoulder.

They both remain still, breathing hard as Din tries to regain his composure and Boba gets used to the stretch. Slowly, Din drags himself away from the edge that just being inside Boba almost made him fall over.

“Okay, I’m good,” he whispers after a while. “I’m good, I— are you?”

“Yes,” comes Boba’s muffled reply. “Can I move?”

Din’s throat clicks loudly as he swallows, and he gives Boba’s thighs a gentle squeeze. Boba straightens up and lifts his hips up and oh— oh, kark. His mind hazes over with pleasure at the slow rock of Boba’s hips, it’s so good Din could cry, and he didn’t know, he had no idea it could be this good. He could spend the rest of his life doing this, being inside Boba, listening to the small moans and sighs spilling out of his mouth, he wants to.

“You’re amazing,” Din whispers dazedly.

“Fuck,” Boba sobs and sits down on his cock with so much strength it punches the air out of Din’s lungs. “Fuck me, Din, fuck me, please.”

Din growls and moves his hands to take a hold of Boba’s ass before rolling them over. Boba makes a strangled sound as the motion has Din slipping out of him; Din swears, grabs the back of Boba’s thigh to press his leg against his chest and clumsily reaches between his legs to guide his cock back inside Boba. He’s shaking so much he needs a couple of tries before his tip finally catches Boba’s rim, and he sinks back inside him with a groan.

Boba scrambles to grab the sheets and he throws his head back, his mouth falling open on a strangled moan. Din grabs Boba’s other trembling leg and places it on his shoulder before shifting his knees to get a better angle to slowly pull out before thrusting back inside Boba.

“Yes,” Boba gasps. “Come on, fuck me, Din, Din.”

He does. It’s clumsy and messy and he needs to change the angle a couple of times, but kriff, he does. Din won’t last long like this, he can’t, not with how good Boba feels around him, but he doesn’t want to be the only one getting off from this.

“Boba,” he calls, his voice strained. “Boba, touch yourself. I can’t— I want to see you come, I want to feel you, please.”

Boba whines, his walls tightening around him, and Din almost blacks out. Thankfully, Boba lets go of the sheets to wrap a hand around his cock and starts stroking himself frantically, his hips stuttering to meet Din’s thrusts.

It’s too much. Din has no idea how he’s managed to go this far, but he can’t hold back anymore. His thrusts become erratic, and all it takes is Boba moaning his name to tip him over the edge. Din chokes on a sob as he comes hard, his hips jerking and his vision going dark.

Din loses his balance. He barely registers Boba wrapping his legs around his waist and catching him before he can crush him with his weight. Head spinning and chest heaving, Din shudders and tries to catch his breath.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” Boba whispers and he sounds so wrecked Din has to look up and check on him.

His whole face is flushed and covered in sweat, his hair a mess around his head. He’s biting at his lip and looking away, and he’s so beautiful it steals Din’s breath away. Din slips a hand between them and finds Boba’s cock still hard and wet, so he closes his fingers around it and relishes the way Boba’s eyes flutter shut, a shuddering moan spilling out of his lips.

He tightens around Din and it’s almost painful, but Din clenches his teeth and buries his other hand in Boba’s damp curls. He strokes Boba’s cock, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

“Mesh’la,” Din whispers softly and jerks him faster, twisting his wrist the same way he’s watched Boba touch himself earlier.

Boba comes with a broken moan, squeezing his cock so hard Din answers with a shuddering moan of his own before slipping out of him. Din keeps stroking Boba through his orgasm, unable to take his eyes off him, and lets go of him when the pleasure on his face starts morphing into discomfort.

They’re both breathing hard, the sound almost deafening in the silence of the room. Neither of them moves for a while, and Din starts to wonder if he’ll ever be able to again. The fatigue that suddenly crashes down on him is one he’s never felt before. Din has to force himself to straighten up and get rid of the plast around his softening cock.

“Din,” Boba calls hoarsely.

Din looks up, and his heart skips a beat at the sight of Boba sprawled out on the bed, covered in sweat and lube and his own release. He looks flushed and dazed and so good Din’s mouth feels dry.

“You made a fucking mess,” Boba mutters.

It’s so stupid and unexpected Din can’t hold back the karking giggle that statement pulls out of him.

“I did,” he admits gracefully and holds onto the last thread of courage he owns to get out of bed. His legs are shaky and he almost loses his balance before he catches himself on the top of Boba’s bunk. “Are you— d’you want to get cleaned up?” he asks Boba.

“I want to sleep,” Boba mumbles. “But my bed’s a mess.”

“So are you. Come on, I’ll help you clean up.”

Boba sighs, but he sits up, scrunching up his nose at the mess between his legs. He swings them over the edge of the bed and stands up, only to immediately lose his footing. Din catches him before he can fall forward and wraps his arm around his waist.

“D’you need me to carry you?” he asks smugly.

Boba pushes him away. “Get karked,” he huffs and wobbles towards the ‘fresher. Din snickers and follows him. He throws away the plast while Boba immediately enters the shower and turns it on to quickly clean up the fluids covering his stomach and crotch. Din washes his hands at the sink and pauses when his eyes catch his reflection in the mirror. His breath hitches at the sight of the red angry marks on his shoulders and neck.

“I’m not the only one who made a mess,” he says to Boba, tilting his head to look at him.

Boba stills and narrows his eyes, so Din points a finger at his neck and laughs when Boba flushes and flips him off. He quickly washes his cock and goes back to the bedroom to peel the dirty covers off the bed. The pillow is a mess too, so he removes it as well and returns to the ‘fresher to dump everything on top of Boba’s already full dirty clothes basket.

Boba gets out of the shower after running the sonic to dry himself off and follows him back to the bedroom. Din eyes the spilled wine and broken glass on the floor.

“You’ll clean up tomorrow,” Boba says while opening the cupboard above his bunk to pull out a spare blanket.

“I’ll clean up?”

Boba shrugs. “You’re the one who dropped it.”

A part of Din wants to argue, but he’s just too tired for that right now, so he simply rolls his eyes and walks the distance between them to stand behind Boba and gently bonk his forehead against the back of his head. Boba grunts.

“You’re not making me sleep in one of the cells,” Din tells him firmly.

Boba tenses. “Your helmet?”

“I’m used to it.”

It’s not the most comfortable, but Din isn’t sleeping alone after tonight. He doesn’t want to think about what it’ll mean for them in the future, and he knows he’ll start worrying about it the second he gets out of this room.

For now, Din just wants to sleep.

“Whatever,” Boba mutters and lies down. Din rolls his eyes and slips under the cover next to him. They both shuffle awkwardly to try to find a good position to sleep in, but the bunk is pretty narrow. Din quickly grows annoyed by Boba’s squirming. He lies flat on his back and sneaks an arm under Boba to pull him closer and make him roll on his side.

Boba huffs, but he goes with it, settling against Din with his head pillowed on his shoulder.

“Lights off,” Boba says.

Darkness invades the room and Din turns off his HUD. Boba is warm and solid against him and his arm will probably go numb from the weight on his shoulder, but Din doesn’t even care at this point.

Tonight was good.

He’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.