Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of sexual situations between adults, BDSM, slave kink, dub-con if you squint, hurt/comfort, and dark themes. Please read the full tag list on AO3!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. Any original characters and concepts are my creation, and I should be consulted if you want to play with them.
Sensitive readers and minors should NOT be reading this story. Don't blame the writer if you don't read the tags.
Enjoy!
This story does not follow TV-canon, but does follow canon rules within the Star Wars Mandalorian universe.
As professional author, I make an obsessive effort to catch spelling and grammatical errors, but constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you to my beta reader, author M.C. Adair!
Pairing: OC alien Mandalorian x OC female human
Dedication: M.C. Adair and my husband.
The Mandalorian's Reward
By Noelle Scribe
Chapter One - The Brothel
Another backwater planet on the outskirts of the galaxy.
Another successful bounty frozen in carbonite.
Another celebratory visit to a tired, dusty brothel.
He didn't expect to find his richest reward yet in a place like this.
She didn't expect to care about anything besides her freedom.
The Mandalorian strode into the run-down cantina, towering over the other patrons. His well-kept beskar armor turned heads and brought unwanted attention. However, the blaster at his hip assured that any trouble gave him a wide berth.
A fat, old Kitonak female - the madam of the establishment - approached the Mandalorian from a side door. She plastered a toothy grin as she took stock of his head-to-toe beskar set. Her beady eyes glinted. The Mandalorian knew she was calculating the credit value of his armor, wondering how much she could overcharge him.
"Greetings, Mandalorian!" the madam called out in a gravelly voice. "Welcome to Bettle's Brothel, where you can sample our beauties at a bargain!"
The warrior ignored the cringey sales pitch. "Your best room for the night," his vocoder rumbled. "And your dinner special brought to the room as well." He threw a bag of credits onto the counter without even bothering to glance at a price menu. There was more than enough to cover the costs and then some.
Showing off creds like that could make him a target in seedy places, however, sometimes it could attract high paying clients. Tonight, he didn't care either way. The loneliness of space had eaten at him during the months-long pursuit of his quarry to the point he'd almost welcome a fight just for some contact.
The Kitonak chittered excitedly and motioned for him to follow upstairs. Her flabby rolls jiggled as she waddled in front of him.
"Shall I send up a few of my best girls as well, sir?" The madam rasped in a voice weathered from too many years sucking on death-sticks.
Even though he frequented brothels, he rarely partook in their particular…delights. He didn't need the distraction. But, as a bounty hunter, he had an image to uphold as a mysterious man with questionable morals. It was safer if his enemies had incorrect notions about his habits. Plus, the rooms were usually cheaper, the services more inclusive...and brothels were usually a great spot to pick up work.
But today...today he was feeling weak, his past failures haunting him even in the face of his success. He was tempted by the madam's suggestion. Would giving into a moment of passion and pleasure really be such a bad thing?
When they arrived at the suite, he motioned the madam closer. She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes wide.
The Mandalorian cleared his suddenly tight throat. "Just…one girl. A humanoid. I'll pay for the whole night. I want her...small and...submissive." He was glad the helmet hid his warm cheeks. "She must be of age, but not too old. And above all, she must be clean and healthy. Healthy, understand?"
"Of course, sir. Only the best for our best guest. I have just the girl in mind. A fresh, shy little wisp of a thing," she winked and bustled away, an excited wiggle to her waddle.
The master "suite" was a little worn, but it served his purposes. He paced until his meal was brought up - some sort of meat stew - and then he was finally able to take off his helmet. He ate, showered, and sanitized his clothes with a sigh of relief. A belly full of home cooked food and a hot shower with real water did wonders after weeks on the hunt. A sonic shower and bland packaged rations did not make for a luxurious life.
The suns were setting on the horizon when there finally came a soft knock at his door. His heart sped up by a few beats as he replaced his helmet securely.
He took a handful of seconds to breathe slowly, letting the thrill of anticipation settle in his stomach. "Enter."
"A Mandalorian is here!" squealed a Mirialan as she burst through the doors, followed closely by the madam. Many of the more experienced sex workers tittered and crowded the madam, begging to be assigned.
Yska huddled on her bed in the corner, hoping to avoid the madam's attention. Her last client had been...less than gentle...and she wasn't keen on repeating the experience any time soon. She hugged her knees to her chest, praying to disappear.
The Kitonak rubbed her flabby belly as she scanned the room, turning away overly enthusiastic girls who grumbled bitterly.
"Ah! There you are, Yska!" The madam clapped her hands gleefully. "Time to add another notch to your bedpost."
There rose a collective groan and a few jealous glares shot in Yska's direction.
"C'mon, Tondah! Not the human! She's so new she could barely handle one bounty hunter. How's she supposed to satisfy a warrior?" Imalyn griped.
Imalyn was a red Zabrak who had cut her teeth in the Dathomirian gladiator cages. She acted as a de-facto leader among the sex workers. She'd worked at Bettle's Brothel the longest. No one went against her if they didn't want to sport the bruises. How the domineering fighter had ever been sold into prostitution was a mystery to Yska.
The madam shushed the Zabrak absentmindedly. The fact that Imalyn hadn't just beaten Madam Tondah Bettle to a pulp to escape or take over the business…always made Yska wonder. What sort of threat Tondah hold over the cage fighter?
It made her think twice about arguing with the deceptively meek-looking Kitonak.
"Hey! I've been here the longest! The creds I could make off this trick could pay off my contract. I wanna get off this rock!" the Zabrak interjected.
The Kitonak shot Imalyn with a pointed glare as she made her way to Yska's bed. Imalyn backed down, seething quietly.
Yska's cheeks burned as Imalyn starred daggers into her.
Imalyn was right, of course. As the most seasoned escort with hundreds of small notches carved into her headboard, she would be the best fit for a bounty hunter.
With only a few weeks of training and a handful of clients notched into her bedpost, Yska wasn't sure how she could withstand the appetites of a warrior.
"Yska, come. You will attend the Mandalorian." Tondah motioned for her to follow to the baths.
Yska sighed, unfurling reluctantly and hiding from envious stares behind her blonde tresses.
Tondah usually left the girls to bathe and do their own hair and makeup, but apparently today was different. "I know your last assignment was hard on you. You're too soft for this life." She filled the tub and ushered the listless human into the warm water.
"With a beauty like yours, you'll be able to pay off your contract in no time," Tondah said while she combed Yska's hair. Yska was trying to staunch her nerves as the Kitonak washed her hair with her best perfumed soaps.
Tondah directed the girl to clean all her delicate crevices while she readied the towels and a change of clothes.
Tondah sighed as Yska dried off. "I'm sorry to have to do this, Yska, but I'll have a riot on my hands if I don't take at least seventy-five percent of your cut. To distribute amongst the other girls, you see. If I don't, the others will be out for blood, you understand, girl? It's not personal, it's just business."
Yska pursed her lips as anger erupted inside her. Her nostrils flared. She'd never heard of the madam docking other girls' pay to distribute! It wasn't fair that they'd reap the benefits of her hard work!
After a minute of clenching her fists to hide the furious tremor in her hands, she remembered the envious glares of her peers. Imalyn's eyes had promised blood.
Begrudgingly, Yska understood the madam's logic. She wasn't keen about it, but a large cut wasn't worth the long-term wrath. She'd rather make nice with these women - especially with Imalyn. She didn't know how long she'd be living with them and she'd rather not have to constantly watch her back.
Staring at herself from across the mirror, Yska sat as the madam dried and styled her hair in loose waves. She chewed on her bottom lip, mind swirling.
"Tondah...what exactly is a Mandalorian? Why are all the girls excited about it?"
"You don't know, girl? What rock have you been hiding under?" Tondah exclaimed as Yska shook her head. "Why, they are only some of the most famed warriors, mercenaries, and bounty hunters! Their beskar armor is legendary. A full set is worth more than everything in this tiny town combined. And they never take off their helmet in front of others. Never."
"So...basically no one knows what they look like?" She rubbed her arms.
"Mmm, well...not exactly." The madam turned the girl's face to apply a subtle hint of color. "A Mandalorian can come from any species. So if you can figure out the species, you have a pretty fair guess. To be a Mandalorian is a way of life...like a religion or something."
"So, what do you think I should expect?" The girl asked with a waver in her voice. A rich, masked warrior seemed like a dangerous client, especially for one as inexperienced as she. Her stomach churned with nerves. She thought of her last client, another bounty hunter.
"Well, I'm not too sure. I don't know what species he is, but he's humanoid. I doubt he will undress...and, at any rate, you won't see his face.
Tondah picked out a simple white nightdress for the girl to change into. It was innocent enough while still maintaining a sort of modest allure.
Tondah shuffled with cosmetics, volunteering, "He asked for a small, submissive female, so just do exactly as he tells you, Yska. Remember your pseudonym as Tamry." Yska rolled her eyes; in the local vernacular, Tamry was a common hooker name that meant something small and sweet, like candy. "You're pure and sweet and he's going to pay very well for you."
One last check in the mirror showed Yska's curled vanilla mane and dewey eyes framed by satin lashes. Her nightgown was short and hugged her curves, complimented by a floral, lace-trimmed robe. Yska looked the picture of pure and innocent. Not far from the truth.
The madam smiled, leading her out through the jealous throng and up the stairs. They arrived at the Mandalorian's room and Tondah patted the girl's arm comfortingly. Yska hadn't realized her shaking had become noticeable.
"Just remember your training, girl," said the madam.
Yska's lungs fluttered as her heart pounded. She prayed to disappear.
The door slid open, revealing the short, chubby proprietress. The Kitonak waited at the threshold until the Mandalorian gestured her in.
A healthy - if a tad underfed - female followed the madam into the room. The girl's hands were wringing and her eyes remained downcast. She stood behind her madam as if to hide, hips canted so that one leg bent demurely in front of the other. Her knees peeked from under gauzy gowns. Humanoid and fair, likely young and shy...just the way he liked.
The Mandalorian's anticipation flowed in a southern direction as his interest piqued. His beskar felt tight.
The madam grinned confidently. "Young, healthy, and submissive. Is she to your liking, sir? Because if not, I could-"
"No," he held up his hand, scanning the girl from head to toe. Even though the girl's cortisol levels and heart rate were elevated, all her vital signs looked healthy. The rest of his assessment was of a carnal nature. "She is...very much to my liking. Well done."
He slid a few credits into the madam's itchy palm as a handsome tip. The Kitonak bowed quickly and locked the door on her way out.
The room was quiet without the Kitonak's buffering energy. Yet the silence didn't bother the Mandalorian...and neither did the sudden tension.
The girl remained in place, a hand rubbing her bicep, eyes glued to the floor. He was used to this reaction. He knew how intimidating a six foot ten, fully armored commando appeared to most civilians.
He approached her slowly, standing at his full height, the weight from his boots rippling through the wood floor. The human girl was so small compared to him, barely coming midway up his breastplate. He watched the girl try to shrink into herself, looking anywhere but at his helmet.
So shy. So breakable.
He felt himself thicken just thinking of all the positions he could manhandle her into. He was charmed by that innocent blush dusting her cheeks and those glistening, ripe lips, and that nervous tremor to her fine-boned frame.
He curled his gloved finger around a lock of her blonde hair - it had been tickling her pale shoulders. He didn't resist the temptation to tuck it behind her ear. He circled her slowly, towering, trailing gloved fingers along her angles.
His scanners showed her heart rate spike.
"What do I call you?" the Mandalorian asked flatly. The deep mechanical whir made the human flinch in the stillness.
"T-tamry," she stammered. She kept her eyes down. He could smell the lie. The Mandalorian made no comment. "And your name?" she asked.
The Mandalorian shook his head slowly, remaining silent.
The girl chewed her lip and squirmed.
"You are an adult for your species, yes?" he asked. He gathered her hair, scenting a whiff of the delicate perfumes from under his helmet.
She nodded, "I'm a young adult, yes."
"'Yes,' what?" He asked sternly, his thumb tracing her jugular.
"Yes...s-sir?" she whimpered, glancing at his helmet briefly. She pulled her robe tighter.
"Good girl," he whispered. His scanner showed her body heat pooling south at his praise.
He leaned in as his fingers tipped her chin up to meet his masked gaze properly. She flinched, gasping quietly as she found herself face to face with his visor. He held her there for long moments, watching her chest rise and fall.
"Are you afraid, Tamry?" His voice held no emotion, but his breath sped up.
Her large eyes flitted about, blinking back pain before finding the floor again. Her voice caught on a choke. "Let's just say...it took a couple weeks to recover from...my last client."
He noticed the faint traces of healing bruises on the back of her neck. It was obvious she had tried to hide it with her curled hair.
The Mandalorian was thankful Tamry couldn't see the expression on his face. He despised people who harmed the innocent. Nothing made him more furious. He often took on jobs dispatching abusers and despots pro bono.
That was his defect. Caring.
His species was one of detachment. Reservedness. Free of passions like fury or desire.
He did not wish to scare the girl with his anger. The nervous little doe would assume she was at fault. His voice vocoder was smooth and free of inflection he promised, "I'm not going to hurt you, Tamry."
She looked up at him then with such sad eyes. Eyes that spoke of betrayal. And why should she trust him? He was just another john at a sleazy galactic pitstop.
No doubt her sorrow was easily dismissed by others - perhaps even considered an act - but he'd seen that look all too often in the mirror to be fooled.
The Mandalorian found himself wanting to kiss that look off her face. He felt compelled by some strange…force. He couldn't explain it. He'd never wanted to kiss a hired girl before. In fact, he'd only ever wanted to share The Unlocking Rite with one female...but that had been before the invasion. Before the interruption. Before he'd lost everything.
He was stunned at the sudden urge...and the strength of it. The coral of her lips fascinated him, an unnatural color for his species. So, he settled for caressing the girl's chin, running his thumb along her bottom lip. The urge mollified some, but not enough for his comfort. Still, he savored the flexible pull of the sensitive petals as his glove dragged across pink flesh.
Tamry's eyes filled with a hesitant warmth that traveled to his loins. Her eyes stared into his visor as if she could make out the man underneath. Her quickened breath tumbled heat over his glove. Her body language began to open up to him as he carded his fingers through blonde tresses.
Against his teachings, he brimmed with desire for such a petite and precious treasure.
"On the bed," he directed. His voice was void as usual, but his body was eager.
Whatever warmth he'd built with her shattered in her eyes. The fledgling connection turned cold with fear and betrayal as she numbly did as she was told. Had she been able to see his face, she would have realized his eyes were softer than the authority in his voice. But she couldn't.
That look left a sting on his lips that longed to press against hers. Perhaps he should have spent more time coaxing her? Drawing her out so she wouldn't feel used?
The madam had said Tamry was fresh and shy. Likely a new acquisition, too young to have developed a poker face yet. He found he admired the fact that he could read her so easily. And he admired her obedience, despite her fear.
The human was tiny on the massive bed. He swelled as his eyes caressed her smooth legs and delicate ankles. She crossed her legs as if she could feel the heat from his gaze.
"Take your robe off," he commanded. The gauzy material pooled at her elbows with a shrug. She shivered. He debated turning up the heat in the room, but he reasoned she would be warmed by the activity soon. He wagered it was mostly from nerves as her eyes refused to meet his visor.
"Lie down on your front." His voice turned husky with anticipation. She glanced at his helmet and complied. She faced away from him and folded her arms under her chest as if she was trying to disappear into the covers.
Tamry shuddered as the Mandalorian knelt on the bed, cushions sinking under his weight. His scanner showed her increased heart rate.
She swallowed as he removed his right glove and caressed the back of her thigh with his warm skin. Perhaps skin on skin contact would calm her. He delighted in her second shudder as his hand moved slowly under her nightie.
His hand was larger than her ass cheek and the reminder of her smallness had him straining in his pants. So soft, yet firm. So warm. He squeezed and dipped his thumb under the hem of her lingerie.
Suddenly, he pulled her back by her hips. "Up," he commanded. She gasped, lifting up on all fours. "No. Head down, ass up." He pushed her down between the shoulder blades and savored her whimper.
She arched her back instinctively.
"Good girl," he praised, lifting her nightgown over her rump as he caressed her back. "We won't be needing these anymore." His voice rumbled as he pulled her lacy panties down to her thighs.
The plump pink slit peeking from between luscious thighs made his mouth water. His species had several vibrant skin tones, but pink was not one of them. It was a soft color. An inviting color. A color that made his cock swell. He thumbed a line up from her pink clit, along her pink folds, spreading her pink ass for his greedy gaze.
He was certain he could stare at all her pinkness for days on end and never tire of it. He'd drink it in if he could - helmet be damned!
The shy little human squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in the covers. Cortisol levels spiked.
"Not gonna hurt you, Tamry," he said, petting her again. She whimpered, but nodded. He could tell she didn't believe him.
That was fine. He spoke the truth. He had no interest in harming her, or any innocent. He lived a rough life and didn't have the best people skills, but his actions would be proof enough in the end.
The Mandalorian watched the girl closely as he began to unbuckle his belts. The clink of metal dropping to the floor and the grind of the zipper reverberated loudly in the tense silence. The girl turned to peer over her shoulder curiously.
He paused.
"Did I say you could look?"
"No, sir! I'm sorry!" She tucked her face back into the pillows, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she began to tremble.
Her hair fell to the side, fanning over the pillow. Fading bruises stared at him.
The bounty hunter sighed. He wasn't in the practice of being comforting; he was in the business of intimidation. Normally he wouldn't care to explain with words - he was a man of action - but that was quickly becoming his fatal flaw today. Something compelled him to soothe her fear.
"It's alright." The words felt stiff. "You didn't know. You just want to be a good girl for me, don't you, Tamry?"
"Yes, sir," she nodded, trying to wipe her eyes discreetly.
"Try to relax."
Yska flinched when she felt his naked flesh brush her tender folds. She fought the urge to turn and look, gripping the sheets.
Could she fit him? Was she healed enough? Would he turn rough like the last guy? How many times would she have to endure being used and discarded before she could buy her freedom?
Uncertainty raced in her mind, causing her muscles to tense and tremor.
She could feel the Mandalorian rubbing the thick head of himself up and down, nudging against her entrance. She panted. She steeled against the sudden pain she expected. The pain that had knocked the wind out of her last time.
He pushed in a millimeter here and there, using what little natural slick she had. Slow. She wasn't aroused...so she wasn't wet enough. Fear flashed. She'd rip again!
"Wait, please...please," she begged, unable to stop the tears. The last bounty hunter had laughed as she'd cried; he hadn't stopped.
"What's wrong?" There was surprise in his voice. She tried to get the tears under control, but the more she tried, the more they came unbidden. Her throat was as tight as her muscles. As tight as her grip on the sheets.
"Please, sir…," she swallowed, fighting the panic. She had to do this. She had no other choice. She had to get through this to get closer to her freedom. "Can we...can we use s-some lubrication? I can't...I can't-"
The panic took hold. She was back in that room a couple weeks ago. She could hear the last john laughing in her ears as she begged for mercy.
"Whoa, Tamry...shh shh shh," the Mandalorian cooed.
Yska regretted the taste of the fake name.
The Mandalorian tipped her hips to the side, spooning behind her. "Hey, I got you. I got you. I'm not him." His cool fingers flitted across the bruises on her neck. "I'm not whoever hurt you."
Maybe not, she thought. Maybe you'll be just a new notch of pain on my bedpost.
His gloveless hand carded through Tamry's hair as he gathered her into his arms. He shushed the girl gently as he petted, hoping his sympathy could be felt through his voice.
"Your pleasure is my pleasure. I've no interest in hurting you. Just tell me where the lube is and we will use it."
He knew the issue was much deeper, but for one night, he hoped he could show this young woman that - at the very least - not every man wanted to harm her. And strangely...he briefly imagined being the man that helped her work through the rest of it...
He shook the absurd thought away.
He chalked up his strange behavior to his defection. It had been silent for decades - centuries even - but he guessed it was only a matter of time before it chose a target.
"In...in the drawer," she sniffled, pointing to the nightstand.
The Mandalorian dug a little tube from the drawer with one hand. When he returned, he urged the human to scoot further into the center of the bed. With her legs bent to one side, he still had access to her pink slit. He squeezed a generous amount of the clear gel on his naked fingers before slowly burying two digits into her warm folds. Her breath hitched.
"So tight," he groaned. Within a few minutes, her sniffles had cleared and were replaced with tiny whimpers.
"Come closer," he breathed. He encouraged her to relax against his armored chest, stretching his left arm under her head while his right played between her thighs.
Yska shivered as her warmed skin met his cold metal, but his fingers seemed to have the effect she'd needed. The tension in her muscles melted. He could feel her body give way to his probing. Jolts of pleasure sang through her body like electricity, to her surprise. Not even Dex had touched her so well.
Yska didn't want pain, but she didn't necessarily want to enjoy this, either. She was only doing this to buy her freedom. She didn't want this life. To enjoy was to accept.
She tried to stifle her moans with a bitten lip, but the Mandalorian was too observant.
"Did I say you could hide your voice from me, Tamry?" He whispered softly, the speaker close to her ear.
She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut.
Maybe...enjoying one night wouldn't be so terrible. And really, when would she get a client who cared about her pleasure? That was almost unheard of. She decided - hesitantly - to try to treasure the small reprieve and be grateful that the Mandalorian seemed to be unselfish. He didn't have to think of her needs, but he was. She took a big breath...and let go.
Her noises were quiet, but plentiful.
She felt the Mandalorian shift behind her, his hardness brushing against her squirming backside. She heard him inhale through his microphone, whispering, "So soft," more to himself than anyone else.
Yska heard the cap on the lube click, then a clatter as the tube was carelessly tossed on the nightstand. She felt the cool slick a moment later as the Mandalorian pressed himself to her from behind, withdrawing his fingers. Still slick, they migrated up to her clit and found a gentle rhythm. Yska shuddered at the new pleasure.
A deep moan clawed its way from her throat and she mewled in its wake as he chose that moment to sheath himself inside of her. It was only the first couple inches, but she was relieved he'd prepared her beforehand. It was definitely a stretch. She could not have taken him without having first been somewhat relaxed.
"Good girl. Breathe." He gathered her hair in his left hand, pulling her closer to him. She could feel the visor of his helmet butt up against her ear. "Just breathe."
He eased in another inch, hooking her right leg back over his hip. To her embarrassment, the position splayed her open.
"That's it. You're doing so well," he moaned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was your first with how tight your little parts are."
She could feel the lust in his voice, even though it was subtle. A hint of a smile made its way through the vocoder. That sent a thrill through her stomach. He seemed like a stoic man who rarely had cause to smile. Yska liked the idea that she might be one of the few to put a smile on his face...even if she couldn't see it.
"I'm…not very experienced," she whispered, a blush on her cheeks.
He groaned at that, seating himself fully to the hilt. Her gasp turned into a whine of pleasure. He gripped her hip in a vice as he thrust himself into her. She knew it would bruise, but for some reason, she didn't feel she'd mind this particular bruise.
Contrary to her fears, it actually felt good. Better than good! He was far superior to her previous encounters. She felt herself wishing that...it had only ever been him. A dangerous thought for a brothel girl.
Don't get attached, was the brothel mantra. Good sex did not mean compatability. The feelings are just chemical.
But...kriff, this was how it always should have felt. Stretched just this side of pain, held immobile in arms so dangerous and strong, with surges of electricity pulsing up from her core.
The Mandalorian seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as well, losing that silent stoicism. She got the sense he was a man of few words, but apparently he saved them all for sex.
"So warm...so small…," he moaned in a fucked out stream of consciousness. "'S been so long, too long... Such a sweet little thing for me to spoil... Such a good girl for me, aren't you, Tamry?"
He cooed and growled between thrusts with such an ache in his voice that she couldn't help but long to quench whatever he thirsted for.
"Yessssir. Aaaaah!" She groaned long and hard when his right hand found its way to her clit again. He massaged circles into her sex, occasionally dipping his fingers into the slick they were making, bringing the lubricant back to her clit.
He rubbed her in time with his thrusts. Her inner walls fluttered around him.
"You wanna try to cum on my cock?" his speaker rumbled into her ear. "I can feel your little sex thinking about it..."
"I'll - mmm - I'll try, sir."
It would be a first.
She practically sobbed from the pleasure, mewling as she squirmed.
He picked her up suddenly, positioning her on hands and knees so he could piston faster behind her. His hand reached around to find her clit again and she arched her back to meet him.
His speed picked up. His greaves slapped against the backs of her thighs. She didn't care.
Hair hanging over her eyes, she mewled like a cat in heat, panting and desperate. Desperate for him to tip her over that precipice that no other man had.
"I'm not gonna fill you up until you cum for me, little human...like my good girl should," he panted in her ear. "You'll be a good girl and cum for me, won't you? Good girls get rewarded."
The thought of his reward inside her, hot and filling... The fact that he wanted her pleasure first...
Yska's whole body tensed in pleasurable agony.
And then she burst apart, wailing as she clenched around the cock inside her.
True to his word, the Mandalorian waited until she was through the thick of her pleasure before he filled her with a drawn out groan.
He was still pulsing inside her as she panted, limp and sated, wringing out every scalding drop of ardor.
She thought he'd pull out immediately, clean up, and dismiss her. Like the other johns. But he didn't.
Instead, he rolled them to the side, still snug inside her. To her surprise, he caressed her, carding naked fingers through her now-messy tresses, and palming her breasts as he basked in the afterglow.
More sentimental than she would have guessed for a battle hardened commando.
No partner had ever cuddled with her before. Not even Dex.
She found she wanted to stay here like this, in his arms.
That was bad for business. And what was bad for business affected her freedom. And that…was terrifying.
When their breathing calmed, he finally retreated. He returned shortly with a sonic wand to clean them both up. He didn't say anything. Just moved silently.
She caught a glimpse of his hands and his now-flaccid cock as he tucked and redressed, noting the vibrant blue skin with distinct black, white, and yellow stripes. She couldn't place the species, but then that wasn't much to go on. Decidedly not human, though.
As she watched him situate his weapons, Yska scolded her traitorous thoughts for wishing the night would last...or the hope that she'd see the Mandalorian again.
Don't get attached, she chided. She wouldn't last long in this life if her heart was broken after every orgasm.
Yska needed to leave. Now. She needed to shake this strange compulsion to reach out to him, to uncover the mystery hiding underneath that beskar. To see if his personality was as cold as his armor…or as warm as his reward.
Besides, he'd want privacy now that he'd gotten what he'd paid for. She tried not to let the tears sting in her eyes too obviously. Blinking her eyes rapidly, Yska righted her nightgown, found her panties and robe, and tried her best impression of nonchalance.
"Please enjoy your night, sir."
She bowed, practically running from the room. She needed to leave before she broke down again in front of this strange man. Tondah would be furious with her if he complained. He paid for her pussy, not her issues.
She opened the door and just before she left...a thin whisper floated to her ears, aching and sad: "Did I say you could leave, little human?"
Yska swore her ears were playing a trick on her. It must have been the wind. The building was drafty and old.
There was no way a Mandalorian would call out to her of all people with a voice laced with longing. No. It was a figment. A whisper from her broken heart.
She hung her head, closing the door behind her.
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Edited and cross-posted on AO3 under the same pen name.
Updated 2/26/2022 - 4874 words
Revised 11/25/22 - 5901 words