Tristan Wren groaned as he opened the door to his room and stepped inside, stretching and cracking his weary bones. All Mandalorian warriors were expected to keep active and in peak physical condition; physical exercises, combat training and parkour meant he was often exhausted afterwards. But Mandalorians were also entitled to rest and relaxation, and some vices as compensation. For him, his vice was an hour soaking in the bathhouse not far from the stronghold, feeling the stress and aches leave his body. He removed his armour, leaving him in only a skintight body stocking, and made his way out into the cold air towards the bathhouse. Krownest was cold and snowy all year round, though it did let up slightly in the spring and summer months, but it was the kind that managed to be beautiful instead of a frozen wasteland. And it was his home, had been all his life and been the same for generations of Clan Wren warriors before him and, hopefully, generations after him. He entered the bathhouse to find it empty, but with the water steaming and bubbling invitingly. Testing it with his hand, Tristan found it to be the perfect temperature. Putting down the towel he had brought with him, he kicked off his boots and set them against the wall, then stripped off his body stocking and hung it on a peg. At seventeen years of age, Tristan was quite well-developed and his Mandalorian training regime meant his body was lean and muscled and very strong. He passed a mirror and couldn't resist examining himself in it for a moment. His chest was toned and strong, his legs long and supple and his cock was quite a good size. His ass, when he turned and mooned the mirror, was quite hot as well. Tristan turned away from the mirror and gingerly stepped into the water, sinking down into it so it was just over his shoulders and sighing in satisfaction. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting the weariness seep out of him. Then, to his surprise, he heard the door slide open and a familiar voice speak.
"Oh, awesome! Is this a sauna? I- Oh, kriff! Sorry, I didn't realise anyone was in here!"
Ezra Bridger, Jedi Padawan and one of Sabine's rebel friends, was standing in the room looking very embarrassed. Tristan sank down a little, conscious of the fact that he was naked.
"Oh. Bridger. Sorry, I should have locked the door but I forgot."
"I was just exploring and found this. Couldn't resist having a peek."
Was it Tristan's imagination, or was Ezra trying to sneak a peek at him? Quite flattering; the kid wasn't too bad to look at himself.
"It's fine."
"That looks nice. Do you mind if I join you?"
That was a bit of a surprise. After a moment, Tristan nodded.
"OK. But I should warn you, I'm not wearing anything."
"Nude, eh? I've been in worse."
"Really?"
"Yeah, not really. Would you mind covering your eyes? I'm a bit shy."
Tristan snorted but obliged, feeling slightly ridiculous. He was no stranger to nakedness, often sharing washing facilities with the other male warriors of the clan, but Ezra was still awkwardly stuck in the teenager phase which made him sensitive about his body. He heard rustling of clothes as Ezra undressed himself and resisted the urge to peek. When he heard small footsteps moving away, he decided to risk it and moved two fingers apart to get a brief glimpse. Ezra was hanging up his clothes next to Tristan's, allowing him a good look at him from behind. Tristan liked what he saw; the boy's skin was a copper brown and looked smooth to the touch, while his butt and the backs of his thighs tensed as he stretched. Tristan covered his eyes once more as Ezra turned and came over to the bath. He heard the boy step into it and sink down into the water with the same satisfied sigh he'd used and judged that it was safe to look. Ezra was sitting directly opposite him, up to his shoulders in the warm water and smiling at him.
"This feels great!"
"Doesn't it? I always come here after training to recover."
"I can see why."
They sat there in silence after that, letting the water nourish and soothe their weary bones. Then Ezra spoke.
"So, Sabine, what was she like? I mean, before she left?"
The question caught Tristan off-guard, wrong-footing him for a moment.
"Oh. Well, she was….. she was very expressive. Even from an early age she was experimenting with her hair, drawing on the walls, driving my parents mad. One time they took away all her art supplies and locked them in a safe; she fried the lock with a cobbled-together grenade and stole them."
Ezra chuckled.
"Sounds like her. She still pouts whenever Hera makes her surrender her thermal detonators before she goes out on errands. So she isn't tempted to use them."
Now it was Tristan's turn to laugh.
"Sounds like her."
Ezra laughed as well, then looked solemn.
"You know, she really does regret everything she did under the Empire. What she put you through."
"I know. But for a long time I was angry. She ran off and abandoned the Empire, which almost destroyed our house. We lost everything we'd fought so hard to gain; our honour, our power, our prestige. The other clans turned their backs on us, fearing the Empire's wrath. We only managed to hold on to our seat here on Krownest because I joined the Imperial Super Commandos, and even then the Empire took my father and made him a 'ward' of Governor Saxon, essentially holding him hostage to ensure we stayed in line."
He was shaking as he spoke, all the pent-up worry, fear, sadness and anger coming to the surface. Ezra watched him sympathetically.
"Saxon would always find a way to bring it up in conversation, the fact that he held my father's life in his hand and could and would have him executed when it suited him. And there was nothing I could do about it. Even with him dead, my dad is still a prisoner. And if they kill him…"
He was on the verge of breaking down now, shameful to many but he was essentially a boy who missed his father. Ezra, who understood completely, slid himself over and placed a comforting arm around the older boy.
"I understand. But, hey, you've still got a chance to save your father. My folks… I never got a chance to save them, and I miss them every day, but I found a new family. And you, you still have yours."
Tristan smiled; Jedi were always enigmatic, or at least that's what the stories said. Then he realised that they were sitting pressed almost together, and that they were both naked. He looked at Ezra, who looked back, and the gaze was held. Something stirred in them, making them feel drawn to the other. Tristan began to lean in and Ezra did the same, lips growing closer. But then, like suddenly waking from a dream, Tristan saw what he was doing and pulled away, also splashing back from Ezra. What was he doing? Trying to kiss a fifteen year old boy in the bath? What looked like disappointment flared in Ezra's eyes for a moment before he recoiled as well, awkwardly dipping his hands underwater to cover himself reflexively.
"Sorry! I don't know what came over me!"
"It's fine. Must just have been the, er, heat."
"Yeah, probably. I've been in here long enough, so I'll just…. go."
Tristan heaved himself out of the bath, not caring if Ezra saw him naked or not, and hastily dressed himself. Before he left, he risked a glance at Ezra and saw the boy huddled up with a slightly morose expression.
"Hey, Ezra?"
The boy looked up.
"Thanks. I needed that."
Ezra managed an approximation of his usual grin.
"Don't mention it."
Tristan found himself fretting over his almost-kiss with Ezra for the next two days, always lingering at the back of his mind as he drilled and trained and studied extensively for the upcoming rescue mission. Part of him wanted to seek Ezra out and see if it could go further, but he struggled to resist it. So far he had managed to avoid the young Jedi who was helping his master, a blind man called Kanan Jarrus, with training both himself and Sabine in lightsaber combat. Sabine had dueled and defeated Gar Saxon in combat using Ezra's lightsaber against Saxon, who himself was wielding an ancient Mandalorian lightsaber called the Darksaber that Sabine had found and brought with her. The black-bladed lightsaber was a powerful symbol in Mandalorian culture and Saxon had sought it to cement his status as ruler amongst the clans. Tristan was successful at ensuring he stayed away from Ezra, up until he was told by his mother that she and the others would be going to Mandalore on a reconnaissance mission, to scope out the situation before they attempted any rescue.
"And you're leaving me behind by myself?"
"No, Tristan, of course not. Bridger will be staying as well."
"W-What?"
"He's not exactly….. subtle. And this mission requires that. He also needs further schooling with a jetpack, so you can teach him."
Tristan did not dare argue; Countess Ursa Wren was as feared as she was respected, not least by her own family, and not one to be crossed lightly nor have an order refused. He found himself privately wondering if this Force the Jedi were always banging on about was conspiring against him to ensure he was with Bridger. Admittedly the boy was cute, possibly even adorable, and appealing both physically and in personality but Tristan was uneasy about the age difference. Nonetheless, as a Mandalorian he could not be afraid of confronting problems directly.
This was why, with heart pounding and sweating in his armour, he was standing outside the door to the stronghold's library, where Ezra had been spending most of his spare time. His finger hovered over the controls as he wrestled with the desire to turn and run, but just as he made up his mind the door slid open on it's own. He blinked, confused, then saw Ezra sitting behind the big desk with one hand raised.
"I heard you standing there."
"How? With the Force?"
"No. I heard you muttering to yourself for five minutes before I decided to take pity on you."
"Oh, thanks."
The boy shot him a cocky grin, then sighed and got to his feet. Tristan watched him step out from behind the big wooden desk his father loved to sit at and read for hours and run his hands along the bookshelves. Unlike most libraries which contained holo-books, Alrich Wren had insisted on stocking the place primarily with books of actual paper. Such things were expensive, but had greatly increased their standing. Tristan was not much of a reader but every now and then he would take one off it's shelf and hold it, stroke it, feel it. Holo-books might contain more information but these printed books somehow felt alive, more so than the cold and clinical screen of a holo-book. His father always talked of how he loved the sound of the pages crinkling as he turned them, the smell of the old papers and the feel of them beneath his fingers. Ezra touched them gingerly, like he was afraid they'd crumble at his touch.
"My father's collection. He loves these old things."
"I can see why. They're beautiful."
He took a large volume bound in blue from it's shelf and held it reverently in his hands, like it was a newborn. Then he looked around the room, at the many shelves with their precious occupants, and the tall window which allowed one to view the distant mountains over the lake.
"This whole place is beautiful. Everything and everyone about it."
He was looking at Tristan when he said that last part and the Mandalorian teen blushed. This was getting difficult. Ezra put the book back in it's place and walked over to a glass display case in the middle of the room. In it reposed the Darksaber, the black-bladed lightsaber that Sabine had found on Dathomir and brought back to present to a worthy leader of Mandalore. The hilt was angular and straight-edged rather than cylindrical like a normal lightsaber, marking it out as unmistakably Mandalorian. Ezra peered in at it.
"This thing, Sabine called it the Darksaber. I've seen her wield it, even wielded it myself briefly, but I don't know anything about it."
Tristan smiled.
"My father knows. He loves history and art, and the Darksaber is both."
"It's a lightsaber, obviously, but it's not a Jedi one. Yet only a Jedi could have created it."
"What about the other guys, the Sith?"
Ezra made a face.
"Kanan told me they create lightsabers by corrupting the kyber crystals, making them bleed and turn red. If this was created by the Sith, it would be red and it would feel angry, hurt and frightened."
Tristan was curious.
"Feel? You mean it's alive?"
"I don't really know. Thy crystals in my lightsabers both called out to me, singing a kind of song. The Darksaber did not feel like a Sith lightsaber; it felt like a Jedi one, but also different."
"It is different."
"How? Who built it?"
Tristan reached into the case and picked up the Darksaber. It was made of beskar, like the armour he wore, but even then it was lighter than he thought. A slight tingling sensation was felt at the tips of his fingers, like the power within was calling out to him, eager to be unleashed. His thumb found the activation stud and pressed it, igniting the blade. It ignited with a high-pitched noise a bit like a scream, unleashing a metre long pointed blade of plasma that was as black as deepest space, with a white aura hanging around the blade and white tendrils of energy flickering along it's length. It was beautiful to look at yet also hurt the eyes to look at it. Tristan felt the power and history of the blade coursing through him and swung it lazily, cutting the air with a high-pitched whistle. Both boys stared at it, transfixed.
"Whoa."
"I know. According to the old tales, it was created a thousand years ago by Tarre Vizsla, the first of my people ever to become a Jedi Knight rather than a Jedi killer. He was legendary among both for his commitment to honour, justice and strength and after his death, the Darksaber was interred within the Jedi Temple until members of House Vizsla snuck in and captured it. The Darksaber has ever since been both a symbol of the house and the leader of Mandalore. For my sister to possess it….."
Tristan's face wavered between pride and worry.
"What is it?"
"The Darksaber represents the sole ruler of my people. It is a great honour, but also a great burden and a great danger. Anyone could challenge her claim to the title and, if they win, kill her. You saw her fight Saxon and win, but she's not invincible. This thing represents a big danger to my family."
Ezra reached out and placed a hand on the Darksaber, over Tristan's.
"You know what I see when I look at it?"
It was spoken barely above a whisper.
"What?"
"I see the beauty of when Jedi and Mandalorians are together."
The two of them looked at each, gazing deep into the other's eyes, then lunged forwards and pressed their lips together in a passionate, hot kiss. The Darksaber's black blade fizzled out as the hilt fell from Tristan's hand so he could grip Ezra's face and deepen the kiss. Ezra wrapped his arms around the taller boy and pulled him in as they kissed feverishly, three days of pent-up emotions expelling themselves. When they finally pulled away, it was only to gasp for breath.
"This should feel wrong."
"Does it?"
"No."
More kissing and Tristan pressed against Ezra so that the younger boy staggered back until he collided with the desk and fell back on it's surface.
"Oof! Boy, that's solid!"
"Want to continue this somewhere softer?"
"Your bed?"
"OK."
Tristan pulled Ezra to his feet and together they walked to the door.
"Wait a sec!"
Ezra ran over and picked up the Darksaber, returning it to it's display case, before exiting the library hand-in-hand with Tristan. The stronghold was completely deserted save for them, so they had no fear of anyone seeing them. Tristan's room was at the back of the stronghold and fairly large. There was a stand for his armour, a rack of sparring poles, a desk and a bed. Ezra began stripping as soon as they entered, but Tristan's armour was not as easy to remove quickly. Ezra, wearing only shorts, watched as his new lover took off his armour and set it on it's stand. It was not the armour he'd worn as a Super Commando but rather his own personal set, painted in the yellow colours of Clan Wren. When he was done, he pulled off his body stocking and threw it aside, leaving him completely naked.
"Whoa, that's hot!"
He laughed, then grabbed the bottom of Ezra's shorts and yanked them off the other boy in one swift move. Ezra sprawled gloriously naked across the bed, eyes smouldering with desire, and Tristan almost threw himself on top of the young Jedi. He attacked the copper skin of the boy's neck with his mouth, suckling and kissing and biting gently at it, feeling the pulse of his lover. Ezra gnawed at the side of Tristan's head, licking and kissing it and whispering things into his ear. Tristan began to move down from Ezra's neck, kissing his chest, then his tummy to just above his crotch. Tristan risked a glance up at Ezra and saw him looking down at him with a cheeky smile.
"Go ahead. Suck me!"
Tristan grinned before placing his mouth over Ezra's decent sized cock and swallowing it up to the hilt. He heard Ezra's gasp of pleasure at the warm sensation, followed by more as he began to suck on it properly. He hollowed his cheeks and ran his tongue along the length of his lover's shaft, relishing the sounds the young Jedi was making as he writhed on the bed. He gripped Tristan's head and arched his back, clenching his toes and gritting his teeth.
"Ah! Ah! Oh! OH! Yeah, that's good!"
One of Tristan's hands slid under to grip Ezra's bottom, squeezing his firm ass cheeks. Ezra let out a tiny peep, then a loud gasp as he felt a finger invade him. His fingers were squeezing the bedspread in a white-knuckled death grip as he fought to keep his orgasm in check.
"Tristan! Tristan, I can't hold it!"
Tristan didn't respond in any way other than to grab Ezra by the butt and push him up so he felt the boy's cock touching the back of his throat. The combination of sucking and the finger in his ass overcame his remaining resistance and the boy came with a loud cry. Tristan recoiled slightly at the force of Ezra's orgasm, but dutifully and happily sucked it all down. Ezra collapsed boneless and sated on the covers, his copper body shining with sweat. Tristan pulled off and moved up the bed to lie next to Ezra, who turned his head to smile at him. They kissed, gently this time, before snuggling up together face to face. Tristan reached out and stroked one hand along the twin scars that marred Ezra's left cheek.
"Who gave you these?"
"An Inquisitor. Jedi hunters. Me and Kanan fought them all over the place."
"And what happened?"
"They… died."
The tone of Ezra's voice suggested that it was an uncomfortable subject, so Tristan didn't press the issue. They lay there for a while, not talking but just enjoying the closeness of their naked bodies. But they were young, and they recharged quickly. It too minimal effort on Tristan's part to coax Ezra onto all fours for the second round. It took several attempts to enter the younger boy, but when Tristan was fully sheathed inside him Ezra quickly forgot the pain. It started out gently, but soon Tristan fell prey to his lust and began to pound into Ezra hard and fast from behind. Ezra grunted and groaned like someone possessed, oaths and pleas and whispers flowing from his mouth.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh! Yeah, that's it! Oh, Tristan!"
They kept it up for hours, making love in different positions and places about the room; at one point Ezra found himself with his back pressed against the window, his naked butt on display as Tristan continued to make love to him. They eventually collapsed, sated and exhausted but happy, on the bed. Both were panting heavily, bodies and eyes shining, but managed to summon enough energy for a kiss.
"That. Was. Amazing. I love you, Tristan."
Tristan was surprised at the emotion and sincerity in Ezra's voice, but no less touched.
"I thought Jedi weren't supposed to have attachments."
"We're not. But that hasn't stopped us."
They kissed again, then settled themselves down for a long rest. They needed it.
On the whole, the discovery of Ezra and Tristan's new relationship could have gone a lot worse. They'd been careful to hide it at first, but Tristan's carelessly forgetting to lock the door had resulted in Sabine finding them shirtless and kissing on Tristan's bed. This had quickly led to an hour of remonstration in the throne room by Kanan and Ursa, heads hanging as they were taken to task in front of the entire clan, before silence fell. The irony was that they weren't mad about the kissing, but the fact that they'd forgotten to secure the northern perimeter. A very stark warning had been issued if they let romance get in the way of essential objectives, one which they didn't have any intention of ignoring, before Ursa and Kanan had stood before them. Ursa took Ezra's hand and shook it, before crushing it in a Mandalorian iron grip.
"If you break my son's heart, I will break you in half."
Ezra had been so caught up in trying to get feeling back into his hand that he almost missed Kanan's threat towards Tristan, involving a lightsaber somewhere very painful. Then Sabine had punched him in the shoulder
"Welcome to the family, kid!"
"Thanks. Are you gonna threaten me as well?"
"No. I don't need to. You know exactly what I'm capable of."
Ezra nodded to concede the point. His lover had the craziest family.