Whatever the space equivalent of morning was greeted me when I woke. It was just as dark as when I'd laid down, the resting nook light still off, but my eyes had that heaviness of a good long sleep.

Beside me, my husband was still asleep, oblivious to the world like he'd never had such a good rest.

It was weird calling him by title, but that was what we were now. Husband and wife, without the slightest clue what each other's names were.

I watched his outline in the dark, curling hair messed from the helmet and probably not having seen a brush in weeks.

His nightshirt had shifted while he moved in his sleep, doing the exact thing I hated nightshirts for and rising till it was tangled around his waist.

He wasn't muscle bound like I assumed him to be, but I discovered he was average-sized, nothing special beyond that. He'd easily fit in my mouth if he was into that, no choking required.

At least that was a relief.

Still, he had some serious thighs going on, carrying more than a couple scars from what looked like nicked blaster shots. Apparently the beskar wasn't the end all armor, or he'd been caught without it on a couple occasions.

I wondered if he'd flinch if I touched him, decided it wasn't worth the possible injury, then settled back into my spot.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, voice soft in the darkness.

"What?" I cocked my head back, but didn't roll over.

"The Roamer's tattoo. I saw it."

It was small, set on my lower back right where you'd see it if a shirt hem rose enough, but no one had mentioned it before. Or maybe they just didn't know what it meant.

"Not...physically. I knew they'd give it sooner or later." He shifted beside me, but I couldn't tell whether he got closer or farther away. "How did you know?"

"I've hunted Chiss."

As if that answered anything, but I let the question rest, unsure of his motive, and everything else about him for that matter.

"You could," he began, tentative, "sleep. With me."

I blinked against the wall, surprised with the request and the very fact that it was just a request. Not a demand, not a command. But a request.

Turning, careful not to knee him on the way, I settled into the new spot, somewhat closer, yet not pressed against him.

I thought he let out a fluttered sigh, but it could have been the tech humming just outside this isolated, tiny room. I slid an arm around his waist, skin heating with how warm his body ran, wide awake but pretending to sleep.

Somewhere along the way, I did doze off, but I don't think he ever did.

-/-

When I woke for the second time, he was still there, though sitting now and cleaning up a very apparent mess on his lower abdomen.

"You didn't have to," I croaked, voice still tight with sleep.

He murmured, "Accident," then let out an uneasy sigh. "You weren't meant to see."

Was he actually embarrassed?

"I could...make it happen again," I suggested, wondering why he hadn't already made me earn my keep. Not that he was a brute, but it was kind of the agreement. "On purpose."

His shoulders straightened beneath the thin cotton, neck tilting back toward me like he wasn't sure he'd heard right.

For whatever reason, this stranger husband was more modest than I'd been unmarried. Sure I'd never went to bed with anyone, but my mouth was very familiar with other lips and my hands had held more than a few men.

I tried not to think about the fact that we were stuck together, and if I did this wrong there was no running off in shame.

Pulling myself up behind him, I pressed my chest against his back and steadied myself with a knee on either side of him. Tension threaded through his shoulders, unsure despite his obvious strength. I nestled my hands around his ribcage until they met in front of him, pressing beneath the nightshirt and running along his skin.

He was soft there, and warm, and I felt his breaths stutter beneath my touch like he'd not expected the feeling. I slid lower, hands fitting around his cock as he pressed into my palms, body desperate for the touch.

I thanked the Maker he wasn't large, twisting my fingers against the underside and slipping his foreskin back with a gentle tug. He was still wet at the head, but I kept my fingers dry, working the length with sudden, soft pulls.

I slowed or sped in tempo with his breaths, nearly losing it when he spread his legs to give me more room then started pressing his hips against every stroke. I pushed tighter to his back, chest riding every breath he took until I kissed the space behind his ear and every part of him froze.

His cock pulsed in my hand, thrown off by his sudden change, but he pushed my hands away before the peak of his hardness could finish.

"You don't...have to." His words came out tense as his back was, threaded with pleasure and pain.

"Come on, Mando. Don't be shy." It sounded so sure, but actually I was wondering what the hell I was gonna do with him. I thought I'd signed up for something a bit more wild. Not that his lifestyle wasn't wild enough without him being the same in bed, but still.

His shoulders fell as I took him again, breathing out a curse when I pulled down. I wondered if it was so hard it hurt, but I swept my fingers the other way and he completely stopped breathing.

He came amid the tension, obviously not one to have a one night stand for how worked up he was over something so minute as a handjob, cock throbbing twice then petering off.

When I finally let him go, I realized my legs were shaking and I was leaning on him more than he was me. My back had cramped from the position even though I hadn't been there long, and when I pushed back to let him have space my calves creaked in protest.

Since when did I get so tense?

"Thank you," he murmured, and it was the weirdest thing anyone could have said after a hand job.

I let out a nervous choke of a laugh. "Uh, welcome I guess."

Shit I just made it worse.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, as if to distract me from him cleaning himself up. It was weird to think he was that shy, but it was becoming apparent he wasn't used to being seen, let alone doing something so intimate.

I focused on my stomach. "A little I guess. Still tired though."

He gave a short nod. "It's the travel. I usually spend most of it sleeping, too."

Not hungry enough to pursue food, I propped myself against the wall at my back, not really questioning my decision but wondering what it'd bring.

It wasn't like I had a moral issue with it-I could take or leave sex-but it was that same thoughtless, careless attitude that had gotten me the Roamer's tattoo. Not that I'd change just to be accepted, but it was obvious not everyone appreciated my mindset.

He stayed sitting with his back to me, though his head was cocked back toward me, as if to hear my silence better.

It was an odd silence, but not really unpleasant until I decided to put my foot in my mouth and ask, "Why not hire a woman instead?"

"Why not buy a ticket off instead?"

My cheeks prickled with embarrassment. I had used him as a way off, whereas he didn't seem eager at all to use me for my side of the agreement.

"Maybe I didn't want to leave," I shot back, as if a bounty hunter couldn't read everyone like a book.

"All outlaws want to leave," he murmured, letting out a breath of a scoff.

He knew people well, though I doubted anyone knew him.