{Disney owns Star Wars universe and characters, not me. Warning: depictions of drinking alcohol to excess, physical arousal, sexual acts, dubious consent, general erotica. 18+ only, please.}
The Mandalorian drifted in a haze of red, purple, magenta, blue,
and mostly green.
Vivid, dendritic green. Soft, mossy green.
Brilliant, laser-green. A light saber.
His heart wrenched. He turned away from that memory.
He watched his helmet tumble from his hands and float away into a nebula of orange and peach.
He didn't know if he was worthy of it, anymore.
He had lost The Way.
But it didn't matter.
He drifted into a soft place, a warm place. Sweet-smelling, with a spice to it.
"Please…"
Inviting comfort he could wrap himself around, be folded into…
"Please… let me in…"
Deep, delicious ache.
Release.
"Thank you."
Pounding pain and stabbing light met his swollen eyes. The orange-peach nebula surrounded him, softly caressing his nude form. No… not a nebula, sheets. Sheets in a pleasing array of sunset colors. Wait, nude? Why was he nude?
He jerked upright, his brain feeling like it was sloshing loosely in his skull. His stomach lurched, and he barely stopped himself from vomiting. The Mirialan was there at his side, offering him an earthenware cup of something brown and cold.
"Quick, drink this. It'll help."
He accepted it, nodding gratitude, and drained it. It was sweet and herbal, with a bitter finish. Relief washed over him as his nausea abated. His head still pounded murderously.
"Wh… where are my clothes?"
The woman gave him an apologetic smile. "I wasn't strong enough to move you with all that armor on. You removed your own undergarments, I don't know why."
He was alarmed, mortified; he sunk his aching head into his hands.
"Hey, it's alright! Your armor is safe in my speeder under a tarp. We're way out in the country, so no one messed with it. And…" she pulled a sheet over his shame."you were a perfect gentleman. Sometimes it just feels good to get naked. I understand." She rose and strode to the arched doorway, pausing to look back at him. "I'm Fuleen, by the way. Take your time; you'll remember your name after first meal. I'll go get you something to eat and a compress for your head, ok, spicecake?" She didn't wait for a response.
He had never allowed himself to be in such a helpless situation. Everything was falling apart. He should never have lost The Way. There was order in it, and in the Guild's Code. If only…
He couldn't bring himself to think on that. He was far away from all the Jedi nonsense, now. That was a blessing.
He lifted his head to blearily take in his surroundings. A sloping roof, soft yellow plaster walls, rounded arched window. The bed was oval in shape and too large for one person. The room was also decorated with various colors of draped fabric. Women's clothes were tossed carelessly over a shelf and a stool, and the open closet was filled with more personal effects. This was not a guest bedroom, but her own. That spicy, sweet scent was hers.
Fragments of memory returned to him. Had he and she...? But, no. She had said he was a "perfect gentleman." She wasn't acting like… but how would one act if…? He just hadn't had enough experience with the opposite sex or with her species to know how to tell anything.
Probably best to just believe everything was fine. He found his undergarments and his greaves sans beskar plate, and got dressed.
Fuleen appeared at the door, simple wooden tray in hand, and she pouted momentarily upon seeing him. "Awh, you didn't have to cover up on my account. But, if you're more comfortable this way…" she smirked and arched an eyebrow, causing him to frown and blush. He took the tray from her- a spread of fresh fruit and vegetables, and some kind of soft cheese. There was also a large, pink mushroom cap stuffed with a gelatinous aquamarine substance. This she took and settled, goop-down, on his head. He grimaced in disgust, but put a hand over it to hold it in place while she tied it to his head with a strip of silk, making a jaunty little blue bow under his chin.
"I know it's awkward and gross, but it works. Old family remedy. Eat up and I'll get you some more tea."
"Wait…"
She paused in the doorway. He noticed now her simple black dress, a faded tan apron tied around her neck and waist. She was a different woman from the one he saw dancing the night before. Her hands were dusty, her feet clad in muddy boots, and an old pink kerchief tied over her punk hairdo. He hated- even inadvertently- taking advantage of her hospitality. But he felt almost certain he had taken advantage of her in more… inappropriate ways last night. There was… evidence.
"I didn't… I mean, we didn't… last night…"
Her eyes widened slightly, and it looked as though she was fighting off a devilish grin.
"I said you were a perfect gentleman, and you were." She winked so subtly, he couldn't be sure if he'd imagined it or not. "Enjoy your meal, and feel better. I have animals to tend to." And with a swish of homespun skirts, she was gone.
Fuleen strode in her clodhoppers from her cottage to her barn, passing her parked fuschia speeder. The tarp remained undisturbed. She rubbed at a sore shoulder, remembering the exertions of the night previous. He had been heavy, even without all the precious metal. She whistled low, and made long kissing noises at the dark barn doorway, and a large-eared head emerged. A chocolate-colored fathier trotted to her, lowering its head so she could rub it behind the ears. A white orbak followed it into the sunlight, and the beast bumped its broad head against Fuleen's back.
"Hey, Todi. Let me fill Bax's trough and I'll milk you. Sorry I was late today. It was a… bit of a rough night."
She went about her farm chores without really thinking about them. The sprinkler droids were humming in the field as she carried clay jugs of milk to the preservation unit. She could hear the shantak hens in the orchard clacking and hooting as she carried them their buckets of slop. She returned with a basket of yellow and pale green eggs. All the while, her mind was a parsec away.
Please…
Harvesting blue-striped fruit, she dropped them one by one in yet another basket.
His hands had been soft. That's what had surprised her, a bit. She expected them to be rough, but without those imposing gauntlets, they had been soft. Gentle.
Please… let me in…
She cut drooping teal pods from their vines, depositing them without her usual inspection for pests. She both wanted the chore out of the way and hesitated to return to her cottage. He wasn't the same as he had been last night. Last night, all the inhibitions had peeled away, and he had been pure. Seeking closeness. Touch. Comfort.
It was different from any other night she had spent with a man. The honesty in him. The sadness, loneliness. She knew it well. Two lost beings found in simple caress, in quiet, animal coupling. She hadn't wanted it, at first. She had tried to get him to rest, but his embrace… was like a drowning man clinging to a raft. She had allowed him to lay atop her; let him bury his stubbly face in her neck. His weight was comforting. The way the shaft of his erection nestled along the length of her vulva without penetrating...
She hissed a sigh, biting her lower lip, memories playing behind green eyelids.
When he had sunk into her, he had sighed with such relief. For a moment, they had both been whole again. The slow, deliberate thrusts. Quiet exhalations. He had stretched her just enough that it wasn't quite painful. She appreciated a man with girth. They were hard to find in species close enough to her own. She was brought to slow climax twice before his own. She savored the look on his face. He looked like he had finally found home. She was glad she could provide that for him, and right now, wanted nothing more than to provide it again.
Thank you.
His soft, deep voice echoed in her mind. He had thanked her. Strange, yet completely
charming. Genuine.
The basket lay forgotten at her feet, the boline blade held loosely in one emerald palm. A breeze teased at her rough skirt, causing the dampness in her work shorts beneath to feel cool. She shuddered, clearing her head. It was a different man that now sat in her house. The hatch had shut and locked. It would take more than she had within her to open it again.
The sound of a clearing throat made her jump and squawk in surprise.
"Sorry. You… you had said you were bringing more tea."
She heaved a steadying breath, hand to hammering heart, then turned. The Mandalorian was standing in the doorway to the cottage holding the tray. The medicinal gel had slicked some of his hair, and the browning cap compress had been removed and laid on the tray.
"I didn't know what to do with this." he admitted. "Didn't mean to interrupt or startle you." His brows were furrowed in a helpless, childlike expression. He shifted awkwardly as she set her baskets in a nearby handcart, and held out the tray for her before she took it. She pushed past him into the cottage, brushing her back against his side before he had a chance to back out of her way.
"More tea, coming right up. Feeling better?" She called from the kitchen.
"M-much, thank you."
She hissed a breath and bit her lip.
"You're welcome."
Her tone must have betrayed her, for the man stood in the doorway, looking haunted.
She quickly poured two tall cups of tea and offered one, then armed sweat from the side of her face. "So, do I get to know my guest's name? Or do you like 'Spicecake' better?"
"Din. It's Din." He drank deeply, then hunched his shoulders, looking sternly at the dirt floor.
"What a funny name for such a quiet person."
He merely grunted, sitting on a nearby stool. He fidgeted with his cup, mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the right words.
Fuleen stared at him, considering just telling him the truth, wondering how he'd take it in his closed-off state. He'd probably want to leave. She'd probably have to drive him back to the castle. She'd never see him again. The thought pained her.
What was better?
"I…" she began, startling him. His gaze was sad and shuttered, but she met it, making her decision.
"I don't want you to feel guilty. Last night, I felt you needed help. So, I took you home. Cared for you. I know what it looks like, when you're lost. Without a home. I want you to stay as long as you like. Don't feel like you're imposing- I'm…" she sighed deeply, "I'm lonely out here. I would like it if you stayed. If you have nowhere else to be."
Din had kept eye contact through most of this confession, the most he had given since the two had met. His brow smoothed, and the ghost of a smile lifted the edges of his mouth, and he nodded.
"I'd like to help around the farm, though, if that's alright. I… it's been a long time since I lived on a farm… but I remember some things."
"Yeah? Alright, yes, good! Of course!" The words tumbled from her in a wash of relief. She couldn't help but laugh, step closer and hug him. He made a surprised noise, muffled by her breasts in the awkward position. She cleared her throat and stepped back abruptly. "I left the things in the cart. I'll, I'll just go."
She walked out holding her cup of tea, and had to come back to set it down.
Din smiled to himself after she had gone.