The Child wakes her early wanting breakfast, which Amira feels almost as keenly as her own hunger. This manages to bring her outside of her small bunk just in time to catch the Mandalorian strapping on his weapons for the day, which she suspects the Child knew. It wanders away from her over to its other guardian, and she hears his preparations cease and the Child's cooing increase in volume, smiling to herself that the Child clearly has the former bounty hunter wrapped around its finger.
She makes breakfast for just the two of them, some kind of rehydrated meat porridge that smells alright, at least, knowing that the Mandalorian has already taken his meal alone. But still he sits with them as they eat, Yoruba on his lap and his knee pressing against her own. There's a new energy there this morning, after last night. He no longer keeps so much distance between them, or between himself and the Child, after more or less confessing that he needs touch - needs them. She presses her knee more firmly against him as she sips her porridge.
Unprompted, the Mandalorian is the first to speak, tell them about yesterday's job. "They had me take back some kind of sacred ore from the colonists, they need it to power their weapons and defend their lands."
"Tridedlanite," she adds, "the locals use the mineral byproducts from the refining process to enrich their soil. The colonists still haven't figured out how to break it down without massive power inputs and wasting most of it. It is good you returned it." She can hear the slight scrape of metal that means the Mandalorian is looking at her. Amira can't quite tell if he's wondering at her knowledge or at the praise she's offered, but she smiles back at him all the same.
"They asked me to come back and meet with other village heads. At dawn."
Amira has never quite gotten used to defining time by the amount of light that others see, but she can tell from the tension in the Mandalorian that dawn is nearby. That he is holding back his leave to remain a few more moments with them. She allows him these few moments of peace before setting her empty bowl aside. She does not hold herself tightly in when she reaches over to gather up the Child, allowing her bare arms to brush against his stomach and arms, right below where his armor would shield him. He doesn't exactly relax at the touch, but it leaves a different kind of tension there, one she hopes they can explore at a later time.
"We'll be here when you return."
Amira spends the rest of her morning listening to the computer read off as much news as they can catch out here. It's a habit left over from her time with Ambassador Krileck, and part of the reason why some people think she's such a great seer. Mostly she just pays attention, and listens for the things other people miss. It's much easier to know what could go wrong before her senses tell her it already has.
Now she listens as much looking for trouble to avoid as trouble to get into - ever on the lookout for jobs for the Mandalorian that might put him in a little less danger than the near-suicide missions offered by his remaining contacts.
She has plenty of credits to her own name, quite a lot of them actually, but the Mandalorian won't let her use them, insisting her accounts are too easy to trace. But still she tries to contribute in little ways, sometimes setting herself up as a 'fortune teller' of sorts if they are hanging around a planet for a few days. She's still getting used to this new moral code, where lying is alright if it gets fuel in the Razor Crest, but she tries to at least leave her clients with a little bit of useful self-knowledge, even if her predictions for them have only about a 50:50 shot of coming true. She'll be long gone by that time.
Unfortunately, there's no such work for her on Arkania. The locals aren't exactly in a rush to trust outsiders, even if they were friendly enough - N'gantu in particular. And it seemed like the Mandalorian wanted her to stay on the ship today, so stay she does. She tries to use her time as best she can, going from news streams to searching through any database she can get access to for any hints as to the Child's origins.
Apparently the search terms "big ears", "long lifespan", "very cute" or any iteration of what she knows about the Child don't yield any useful hits. She has been told the Child is "green" (the color - not the metaphysical quality meaning naive or greedy or jealous - she'll never understand how a single visual attribute can mean so many contradictory things, sighted people must be in a constant state of confusion), but this doesn't help narrow anything down. Particularly with the large numbers of ancient human texts that refer to all extra-planetary species as "little green men". None of them are the little green men she is searching for.
To atone for the lack of progress she makes in finding its homeworld, Amira busies her hands stitching together a makeshift toy for the Child. She's not a seamstress, but she cobbles together some kind of lumpy figure from one of the Mandalorian's shirts that has fallen beyond repair, together with bits of ribbon and other odds and ends from on of her own skirts. Nothing it could accidentally choke on, though mostly it knows to only put food in its mouth. Still, she notices the Mandalorian has moved everything not bolted down in the Razor Crest a few feet higher, as the Child remains curious as ever.
The Mandalorian returns early, back with some supplies purchased with yesterday's earnings. Several of the local villages have decided to band together tonight and take down the illegal mine that runs below their own smaller ones, stripping the ore out from under them and causing numerous caveins. It'll require a coordinated effort - to flood the mine, destroy the colonists' equipment, and take back their ill-gotten gains all in one night, before the thieves can regroup. It's not a permanent solution, but it will allow them to take back their borders, and the recovered ore will help them arm themselves against further incursions.
The plan is not without its risks, but the thieves' ignorance is in their favor. They won't be expecting the different villages, so often at odds with one another, to be working together, and they certainly won't be expecting the Mandalorian, or his weaponry. Still, she recognizes that he has brought them back supplies in advance, and hears him moving around her in the cockpit, setting up an automatic course to a distant Mandalorian covert - something he's started doing ever since she patched up his head wound - in case he can't return. Amira reminds herself it's merely a precaution, that the situation is not so dire. It is only so the Mandalorian doesn't worry about them while he is out. She wishes, not for the first time, that she could do more to keep him safe.
These precautions have become something of a practiced routine for their protector, and she can tell from the clock's announcement that he still has nearly two hours before he has to set out to the borderlands. But he won't sit still, finding a dozen new things on the ship to check on or secure, including quite a number of things in the cockpit, where she sits with the Child in what she's come to think of as their seats. He keeps brushing past her each time, until finally she stands. She gives the doll in her hands over to its recipient, whose immediate coos of delight are worth the many small pricks to her finger that making it has left, and reaches for the Mandalorian on his next pass. Her hand catches his forearm, and she tugs at it to get him to face her. She holds him there, just long enough to get him to still for a moment. Though her hold on him is light, he doesn't try to free himself. That tells her everything she needs to know.
She brushes past him, moving towards the ladder and knowing that he will follow.
Her bunk, as it were, is barely more than a cupboard in the wall with space for a bed. But there's just enough room to sit the Mandalorian down on it, and crawl back into his lap more easily than she had the previous evening. This time she pulls her skirts up with her, to keep them getting tangled and to provide a cushion against the unforgiving beskar armor beneath her. The partition won't shut with the two of them sitting like this, but they'll be able to hear it if the Child manages to open the cockpit door (a skill that still alarms them both).
It feels easier, this time, to tug his helmet off, tossing it back onto the bedding behind him. It's harder though, not to want to trace along the lines of his face, create a firmer picture of him in her mind. She knows that his jaw is square and his hair a bit unkempt, and she's familiar with the whiskers that tickle her as she kissed him. She imagines he might be handsome, though that's never particularly mattered to her. She's much more interested in the way he's already almost vibrating beneath her, waiting for her to do something, anything to him.
She doesn't tease him this time. Her hands quickly find his neck to orient herself so she can kiss him like she's been wanting to all day. He responds to her immediately, kissing her back slowly but firmly. His gloved hands are already clutching at her back and sides, drawing her into him.
Her own hands slide up into his hair, giving a small tug that earns her a groan that she feels more than hears. She tugs a little harder, tipping his head back so she can chase that rumbling sound, dragging her lips along his throat, enjoy the soft rasp of his stubble. Only a small portion of his neck is exposed to her, but she takes full advantage, pressing open mouthed kisses and little nips wherever she can, paying special attention to whatever she does that causes the hands at her sides to tighten against her. Under her tongue, she can feel his pulse beating wildly against his throat. Here, she can smell the sweat of his skin, all of the carefully controlled force, and the familiar musk of him. He tastes even better.
Latching onto the spot below his ear earns another groan, this one clearly heard. She pauses just for a moment, hoping the sound hasn't carried too far upwards. But there is enough distance and enough of the ship between them and the Child that she barely senses its mind, all she can really tell is that it is ok. Which means it is safe enough to try out what she really wants to do - lips moving to catch at the Mandalorian's earlobe, sucking it between her teeth and nibbling.
He only jolts a little this time at the sensation, but he continues to move restlessly beneath her as she devotes herself to the task. His hands sweep up and down along her spine, until they tangle in her hair. He tugs at the locks so gently she almost might have missed it, but she takes the hint and draws away, giving the Mandalorian the chance to do the same to her. He takes his time, running his nose and jaw along with soft skin of her throat until she's shivering with it. Only then does he brush his lips along her jawline, pressing a kiss right beneath her chin before repeating his actions on the other side. Her ears aren't quite as sensitive as his are, but she still feels little tingles running through her as he traces along the outer shell of one with his tongue.
Her own clothing leaves a little more of her neck exposed, and he works his way down to where her neck meets her shoulder and closes his mouth around it, teeth sinking in so slowly and gently it's like pulling at a string that winds up her whole body. When he shifts down to suck at her collarbone she feels a familiar ache starting to build. Without quite realizing it, she starts to press her hips forward against him. She's not even sure he'd notice through all his layers, but whether he notices or not he suddenly moves beneath her.
She doesn't know quite how it's happened, but he's managed to flip their relative positions. She's half laying on the bunk, her legs hanging over the edge and splayed around his hips, while he hovers above her, careful not to put any of his weight on her. While she appreciates his thoughtfulness, she misses the feeling of him pressed against her. Though she isn't given long to miss it before a single gloved hand runs delicately along the front of her. He carefully touches the skin of her neck, right where she can still feel the gentle imprints of his teeth, then sliding across her shoulder and down her arm. He briefly explores her hand and fingers as she can practically feel his eyes running over her. She's not quite sure what he'll find there, but he seems to like whatever it is he sees, his breathing is just as ragged now as it had been when she nibbled at his throat. She takes the hand in hers and places it between her breasts, where he's sure to feel her heart racing even through the thick leather of his gloves.
When she releases his hand he draws it down along the softness of her stomach and across her ribs, touch featherlight through the thin fabric of her blouse as she arches up into him. She can feel her nipples drawing tight beneath her shirt and wonders just how much he is able to see.
The hand exploring her tentatively brushes along the side of one breast and then she's dragging him down to kiss her once more. She draws his lower lip between her teeth, biting down carefully into its plushness before soothing it with her Mandalorian plants his hand more firmly onto her ribcage so he can kiss her back more thoroughly, tongue no longer tentative as it explores every bit of her mouth within reach, every taste sending a fresh wave of syrupy heat to pool in her belly. Her legs and arms tangle with his own, attempting to draw him closer, pulling him more firmly between her legs, even though his armor presses uncomfortably against her. She's not even sure what she wants, other than more of him, closer.
But instead, he draws back from her, taking away his wonderful mouth and putting way too much distance between them. She practically whines at the loss, and she can hear him chuckling above her.
"There's one other thing I've been wanting to do…."
Mando drops to kneel on the floor at the foot of her bunk, armor clanking loudly against the hull, but his hands are soft as they inch up her skirt, silently asking permission. It's clear what he's asking her for.
"Yes," she breathes "Mother of Moons, yes…"
She shudders at the feel of gloved hands running soothingly along her ankles and calves as he takes the time to remove her boots. She'd probably been digging them into his legs earlier when she tried to pull him closer, but still she marvels at the care he takes with her. He bends down to plant a teasing kiss at each ankle before moving upwards, lifting her skirts slowly and brushing his lips along every inch of newly revealed skin. She doesn't remember the insides of her knees ever being quite so sensitive, but she nearly kicks at his back at the sensation of his mouth there.
Even more maddening is the feel of his stubble dragging along along the delicate skin of her inner thighs, which he goes back to soothe with lips and tongue until she feels like she'll vibrate out of her skin before he even touches her. His hands continue to push her skirts up further and further, until they're pooled at her waist, above where she knows he can see her excitement soaking through her thin underclothes. He pauses here, breathing deeply, before sliding his hands under her waistband to draw the garment down and off her legs. She doesn't know where they end up, and she almost has half a notion he's tucked them onto his person before she's distracted once more.
Gloved hands are pressing carefully against her thighs, encouraging her to spread them further, the cool air of the ship shocking against where she's already warm and wet for him. She's half trembling when he shifts back between her legs, warm breath tickling against her bare skin. But he simply resumes his kisses against her left thigh, occasionally nipping at the soft flesh there. Her hands are clutching at skirts, not so much holding them up as holding herself back, to keep herself from hurrying him, from dragging that teasing mouth to where she needs him most. He asked her for this and she's not going to rush his enjoyment, even if he's slowly driving her insane with it.
She can feel his pleasure too, this close with skin against skin. She luxuriates in it, the way his mind is spread open to her as her body opens to him, so clearly she can almost taste herself on his lips. When he moves his mouth to kiss at her other thigh, and further up to kiss right below her navel, she can feel slight amusement that radiates off of him, avenging himself for her teasing the night before.
But then his mouth is right there, and it's all she can do to keep her legs from closing around his head as he drags his tongue against where she's open and wet for him. He's still got one hand gripping at her thigh while his other arm shifts to press across her belly, holding her steady as his tongue finally reaches her clit on its third pass, her hips bucking uselessly against his hold on her. The Mandalorian focuses in on that spot, alternating broad swipes of his tongue and teasing kisses before bending down to open her up with his tongue, groaning like he loves the taste of her.
She's not sure what kinds of noises she's making herself, but she's well past the point of worrying. Her hands have found their way back into his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as he hums contentedly against her, like he could do this forever. Amira isn't sure she'll survive that long. She can feel her inner walls clenching with each thrust and lap of his tongue inside her, her whole body thrumming with need.
And he shouldn't be this good at it. Yesterday was the first time he had so much as kissed someone, and now he's taking apart piece by piece with his mouth. And she knows he's experienced in other ways but this feels like something different. It feels like an act of worship, and her body quakes with the thought.
Her stomach muscles are already shaking when he moves back up to mouth at her clit, circling it with his tongue before sucking at the little bundle of nerves. Her hands tighten in his hair as her legs wrap around his broad shoulders, dragging him ever closer.
"Please…" she half begs. She wishes she could cry out his name, his real one, the one that flashes into her mind whenever she calls to him, but he hasn't given it to her to use yet. Now it is her own name that runs through his thoughts - her full name, his nickname for her, chanted like a prayer.
She can fear herself nearing the precipice, each little lick and hum winding her body tighter and tighter. She can feel herself start to lift off the bunk, only his strong forearm managing to hold her in place as he continues his relentless onslaught. Her legs are trembling with the effort to hold him in place, though there's no chance of him moving - pleasure radiating off him in waves. Amira wonder is getting a taste of her own pleasure back, whether he has any idea how open he is to her right now or whether he even cares. He's lost completely in the task of bringing her over the edge.
He draws it out a little longer though, reaching down to plunge his tongue inside her once more, again and again. And it's so much, but not quite enough, and he knows it. But before she so much as relaxes back into the bunk, he's right back where he needs her, building a steady rhythm against her clit.
She nearly screams at the briefest scrape of his teeth against her and then he's pulling back, mumbling apologies into her, but she is the opposite of hurt, tugging at his hair to pull his mouth back onto her.
"Don't stop…"
She never wants him to stop, but she's so close. She just needs a little more, and her fingers grasp at his hair just for something to hold onto it. She knows she's pulling a little too hard, but the Mandalorian just groans into her, and the vibrations are enough to send her careening over the edge. His mouth stays on her throughout her shaking climax, gentling against her as she comes back down.
Her hands finally loosen their hold on his hair as she drifts into afterglow, fingers running mindlessly through the strands and petting at his head. He gives her a few gentle parting licks, as if reluctant to remove his mouth from her, but she catches his face in her hands, stroking her palms along his cheeks as she tries to catch her breath.
"You…" she starts, completely lost for words, "so…", but she has no idea where to even begin so she just keeps running her hands along her cheeks and jaw.
"You're so, as well." He teases her, voice husky and deeper than she's ever heard it before, as he kisses her wrist to atone for his teasing words. But he can't seem to help himself, "Not too bad for a rookie, huh?", he asks as he kisses each of her fingers.
She can't even begin to respond to that, just laughs until she runs out of breath and her stomach muscles protest any additional movements.
"You're wonderful," she manages, breathlessly.
The Mandalorian just nuzzles at her hip, face heated from her praise. He rests against her bare skin for several long minutes, both of them needing a moment to catch their breath, before pulling back to set her skirts to rights around her. Sensing that she is not going to be moving again any time soon, he crawls up over her to retrieve his helmet. But he places a parting kiss against her forehead before replacing his armor. It's a promise to return safely, return to them as soon as he can.