Recap: Yska and the Mandalorian left the port for Planet Makeb, where the Hutt Cartel and the Republic vy for control over valuable mineral deposits. She stumbled upon the previous crew's quarters covered in blaster-scars. The Mandalorian gifted her the room and a datapad before insisting she take his bed. Readers also learned the Mandalorian's true name - Razzen-Va.
Dedication: silentfort (Aaaaaahhhhhh! Fan-girling so hard! So glad my fic could inspire you!), DaughterOfMandalore (welcome to AO3!), Selena101, AlchemyAlters, Aeeeek, and abandonedshipss for your special encouragements! THANKS TO EVERYONE FOR OVER 3500 HITS!
The Mandalorian's Reward
By Noelle Scribe
Chapter Five - The Search
Over the next couple days, Yska and the Mandalorian cleared out the old crew's quarters. Everything could be salvaged for scrap money when they docked. They'd fallen into a routine while working - Yska mustering the strength to ask a few personal questions and the Mandalorian indulging her more than he should have.
So far, she'd learned his favorite color was pink, his species couldn't see the color green, he hated modern cantina music, and he loved Colo Claw fish eggs.
She looked forward to more personal stories, like how the Mandalorian had wanted to become a Jedi when he'd been young, but hadn't been sensitive enough with the Force. There was so much she wanted to know about the taciturn warrior, and each tidbit he shared felt like a triumph.
Yska supposed she'd have to bank on her rewards to earn more personal stories.
Nothing short of paint would fix the blaster scars - not even industrial cleaner. The fresher unit was working wonderfully even after so long without use, and only required a bit of elbow grease to shine up. All in all, the old crew quarters were a good space - a blank canvas that Yska was excited to make her own. She looked forward to acquiring supplies on Makeb.
During the night, she slept alone. During the day, she ate her meals alone. In fact, most of the time she was alone. The silver commando was usually in the cockpit or in the cargo hold, tinkering with weapons. Yska was too nervous to seek out his company, afraid to disturb him or get underfoot. Especially since her questions seemed to take a lot of energy for him.
In the eternal darkness of space, Yska only knew it was "nighttime" when the commando would require her "services". He'd taken her rough enough to make her squeal and slow enough to make her cry in frustration: on the sofa, the bed, the floor, against the wall, and recently on the kitchen counter.
Sometimes he wanted her during the "day", too. It always seemed to catch her off-guard and make her nervous (even if she did enjoy herself). At least she'd become better at anticipating his needs.
Without a face to read - and a reticence for speaking - Yska had begun to notice a few ticks in his body language. Nothing obvious to the average person, but...enough to help her navigate his moods a bit better.
The few times she'd spied him at the helm of the ship or cleaning his blasters, his actions were precise, fluid. Confident. It was the same when he went through his morning exercise katas with the efficiency of an apex predator.
But when he entered a room with Yska, his actions seemed...stuttered. Shoulders rigid, back straight, left fingers drumming against his thigh. She wondered if this was a nervous tick. Did she make him as nervous as he made her?
She'd become most familiar with his body language when he wanted her. He'd sit forward, shoulders squared, helmet zeroed in on her. A beast about to pounce. Or he would stand taller, feet shoulder-width apart, head tilted a fraction. Breathing hitched as he gazed at her. A mountain towering over her. Each time, his energy coiled like a loaded spring.
And after he got what he'd wanted...his shoulders would relax. The coiled energy unwound. It was easier to get him to open up then.
She was learning that his body could be as expressive as a face if she paid close enough attention. And today, his energy was pent up and hungry if the panther-roll to his shoulders was any indication. It would be a slow session, where he tortured the orgasm out of her.
Yska burrowed into the couch with a blush as the perpetually-armored Mandalorian advanced, feigning ignorance, hiding behind her datapad. Maybe if she made herself smaller, he wouldn't notice? Her pussy ached from his frequent desire.
"Oh ho, none of that now, my little human." He stopped in front of her, stance wide and towering. "Come on," he coaxed playfully. That was another thing that she had recognized. The inflections in his voice, while subtle, held a surprising range of smirking or playful sarcasm. His tone had been flirtatious these last couple days.
Swallowing hard, she turned off her datapad, and uncurled her legs. Apparently he was impatient. The Mandalorian squatted - the movement graceful even with heavy armor - and yanked her to the edge of the couch with a yelp.
He had to have her - now. The squeeze of her tight pussy helped cool the defection burning in his blood. The fever of it crept along his nerves and left him wired, energized for the hunt, for the fuck, too captivated by the female's pheromones to think clearly. Defection swelled him to the point that draining his balls inside her melting cunt was an all-consuming thought.
Yska braced her arms behind herself as the Mandalorian jerked her leggings down. He tossed them over his shoulder uncaringly.
Her cheeks burned as he pressed her knees up to her ears to spread her pale thighs.
From his waist pouch, he produced a sleek pink vibrator. Yska had discovered the hard way that he'd gotten an assortment of toys in a separate supply box before they'd embarked. It was the same box he'd stashed in his side table drawer the first night.
Yska wasn't sure how she felt about these sessions, even though they had only happened twice. It was pleasurable - like he'd promised - and the end result was mind-blowing. But, she felt wrung out afterwards.
"If you can move when I'm done with you, then I haven't done my job," he'd said after she complained the first time.
The bounty hunter set the pink toy on the couch.
"Relax," he coaxed, taking off his gloves.
A thrill shot through her core. Yska's heat clenched whenever he removed the gloves. She was entranced by the swirling designs on his blue skin, and those fingernail tattoos. She'd asked about them once - if they were cultural markings of his species or perhaps his victories as a warrior - but he'd responded less than favorably. She hadn't earned enough rewards yet. It didn't stop the burning curiosity.
She squirmed, feeling so exposed in front of the warrior's gaze. Maybe she wouldn't mind it so much if he was naked too. Or if the room were a bit warmer. Why did it have to be so frippin' cold?!
"Mmm!" Yska bit back a moan as he grazed her sensitive petals with the back of his knuckles. The backs of his multi-hued hands were surprisingly soft - it was the palms and pads that were calloused from his trade.
He massaged her up and down with his knuckles until he felt the first signs of feminine glaze. The commando dipped a finger inside Yska's heat, dragging out the silken slick to use on her clit.
She lost the will to keep herself propped up, instead melting into the couch, neck kinked, hands floundering for purchase.
"That's it," his vocoder was low and rumbly - or maybe that was just him. "Just let me take care of you."
She moaned as his right fingers drew designs on her clit. The thumb of his left hand teased her entrance, dipping in shallowly before pulling out. As a heavily muscled, six foot ten commando - nothing on him was small, not even his thumb. Yska mewled when it finally breached her, filling her petite canal.
"That's it, pet. Purr for me."
Heat flooded the blonde's cheeks at the naughty new nickname. Sex seemed to be the only time the Mandalorian could let out his pent up words. It was like he had daily word limit, so he saved them all for sex!
Like a good girl, she purred as the warrior slowly worked her pussy with his thumb, his knuckles on her clit. "Aaahhh," she whined, stretching her body and gripping her hair as her insides clenched. It felt so good. Heat and electricity began to pool low in her belly. The Mandalorian sped up, visor glued to her panting face.
Minutes ticked as Yska's moans increased, filling the living room with her song. She was so close - her muscles tense, shaking with her impending orgasm. Her channel gripped his thumb tight, as if trying to swallow it. She felt the first aching stir of her climax when...the Mandalorian pulled away!
Gahhh! She hated this part!
As he doused her arousal with a few sharp smacks to her cunt, she growled in frustration.
"Ow!" she gripped her pussy, thighs closing quicker than a blink. "Why?! Why are you so mean?!" she groaned, angry tears in the corners of her eyes.
He chuckled darkly, "Because I like when you talk back to me like this. And because I like your song most when you've been worked up," he cooed softly, voice at odds with his actions. She could feel the smirk coloring his voice.
As she gripped her stinging pussy, he rubbed his hands firmly over her thighs, her softly flaring hips, and back to her full ass. The warrior pulled her off the couch using his grip on her ass, letting her lower back dangle off the edge. Yska's toes balanced on the cold floor and she shivered.
"Open up," he commanded. He rubbed the outside of her thighs to encourage warmth.
She pouted defiantly. "Nooo," she whined. "You're just gonna smack it again."
He stilled. His voice went low and steady. "What did you just say to me, little girl?"
Oh kriff! "I-I'm sorry, sir," she whimpered, shrinking even more. She hadn't denied him yet, too afraid to say no. "I thought you liked a little back-talk. It just slipped out." Yska's eyes stung. "I'll do it. I'm sorry, sir." She opened her thighs, clutching her hands over her breasts, eyes averted. She chewed her lip to stifle the tremors. "Please don't be mad."
The Mandalorian sighed. Razzen-Va had been partly teasing, but...the human didn't get his sense of humor just yet. She was still too uncertain about her place in all this. To be fair, he was intimidating. And she had no facial cues to work off of. Of course she would think he would punish her for saying no. How could he be so foolish? It was so obvious he could have facepalmed.
He hoped one day they might get to a level of trust that she might talk back to him like an entitled brat and make demands of him. He'd like to give her a playful swat on the ass before reminding her who was boss, but...that was unlikely to happen anytime soon with her trauma.
It was his own damn fault. Razzen-Va couldn't rush things with his human. He'd been impatient in so many ways. Why did he lose his cool around her? Why did her mere presence make his blood burn? His passion for her was going to get him in trouble.
"Yska," he gently turned her face back to his visor. "I'm not going to hurt you. Remember, you'll get a warning before a punishment...and it will be for something far more serious than telling me 'no.' I can handle a little back-talk now and then." He made sure his smile warmed his vocoder. He stroked her hair, tucking it behind her round ear. "It takes a lot more than a whine or a disagreement to rile me up, little one. Now," he picked up the pink vibrator and guided it between her thighs. "Have you had enough or can you handle this?" his helmet tilted to the side.
"I can...do it, sir," she bit her lip, glancing at the silicone toy. "But…." she blushed, looking at the ground.
He waited for her to finish, but she didn't. "I need you to speak your mind now, Yska," Razzen-Va directed.
"Can we...can it just be the once today? I don't think I can handle being built up over and over again like last time. I...I don't like blacking out."
He smirked with pure masculine pride. "Yes."
He deposited the slender girl back onto the couch in a comfortable position. "Going forward, just tell me next time if you're that uncomfortable. I know you're still intimidated by me, but I'm not that disagreeable." He knelt on the couch in front of her bent knees. "I don't actually want you to fear sex with me. Do you understand, Yska?"
"Y-yessir."
"Now...open up for me, little human." This time, he made certain she could hear the arousal in his voice. She did as told, fighting her instincts to keep her legs shut.
He turned the pink toy on, the whir making Yska jump. Slowly, he placed it against her slick folds. She gasped. A moan escaped her lips. She shuddered as he guided it over her clit.
She'd been so close before the discussion, so it didn't take long to recover ground. Soon, her hips were rolling against the toy of their own accord, directing the vibration where she needed it most. Her voice was getting higher by the second.
The Mandalorian leaned in between her legs, impossibly close. His whole viewscreen was her slick, open folds and the gyrating toy. Razzen-Va salivated. His cock drooled precum. He wanted nothing more than to rip the helmet off for just one taste of her….
"Please...too close. It's embarrassing," she pleaded. She tried to close her legs, but Razzen-Va wouldn't have that.
"Then choose not to feel embarrassed. You're the one in control of that. I find you beautiful and I will look my fill."
His lips tingled. Razzen-Va's tongue peeked out to wet them and he shivered at the sensitivity.
It was strange to be the focus of so much attention. But she was too close to climax to fight it.
She slapped a hand over her mouth before the crucial moment and he ripped it off just in time. "Just let go for me, Yska. Make me proud."
The edge pulled her over. She wailed. Her long groaning sob of relief filled the room. He watched her pussy clamp rhymically over empty air, begging for his cock to fill it. And he planned to.
"You're such a good little human for me, aren't you? So obedient. So beautiful. Such a good girl following all my orders," he praised. He was proud. She lay before him, chest heaving, arms slung over tired eyes.
It would get easier once she stopped resisting.
He gave her a few moments to recover.
The whir flicked on again, louder as he selected a higher setting.
"Wha-? I thought you said just once today. Please, sir, I can't-"
"Yes, I did. Once for you. Now it's my turn."
When Yska was very young, living at the orphanage, she was adept at finding information. She was small, quick, and quiet as a mouse. Her attention to detail always came in handy. Whether it was overhearing the right conversation, stumbling upon the right article, asking the right questions, or using the right keywords for search engines - she just had a knack for it. Perhaps a bit of luck had followed her around when it came to such things.
One day, she'd overheard the key code to the safe where the head nun stored any valuables. Yska had used this knowledge for the greater good, like she always tried to do.
During long nights, young Yska would borrow the old nun's datapad from the office vault - on behalf of the other kids - for a night of entertainment.
The orphans would gather around the pad in their darkened dorm and watch all manner of holovids, or take turns playing games before the suns came up. It was the one reprieve in their harsh, uncertain existence - one night when they could be carefree children once again.
In the morning, Yska would tip-toe back into the office and replace the datapad exactly how she'd found it, wiped of all their history the night before. Looking back, the nuns may have suspected, but never admonished them for it.
Later, as Yska grew older, she would sneak the datapad for more...nefarious reasons.
Many orphans who aged out of the system would find themselves on the streets, with only a basic education and no marketable skills. With few viable options, they were ripe picking for gang recruitment.
Yska had taken it upon herself to suss out information on which gangs were - for lack of better options - the best. As in, which gangs were the least violent, which paid the highest, which communities they protected and ruled, whether they dealt in spice or arms or slaves, etc.
Yska used her skills to help the older orphans find legitimate work or housing, but few could beat the "benefits" of the local gangs. When honest work was scarce, she directed her peers to the lesser evils. If her peers were going to end up in a life of crime, she could at least help by mitigating some of the damage.
Yska would not call herself a hacker, but she was exceptional at finding the right information in the right place. She had become so adept at research under pressure (and had directed so many of her peers to certain organizations) that the head of the Twin Suns Syndicate had tried to recruit her. "Tried" being the operative word. She'd made it clear that she didn't approve of the mafioso lifestyle, but...she would work as an independent contractor if they continued their practices of "no unnecessary violence." And only when honest work could not be found. The Twin Suns seemed mollified by the arrangement.
When she'd found herself on the streets at eighteen, having aged out of the system herself, with no honest work...again, the Twin Suns tempted her with high pay and proper tech for her research. She'd found Dex instead, landed up as a brothel slave for her naivete, and then sold to an enigmatic - albeit sexy - Mandalorian commando. Life was strange.
So now, even with an outdated datapad and spotty connection to a galactic database, her skills were proficient. No other mystery intrigued her as much as the identity of her new owner.
So, with little to do (other than spread her legs when told), she tried her luck yet again at researching what species her Mandalorian might be. Her bounty hunter was Mandalorian by creed, but not by species. In her research, she'd found that sometimes Mandalorian's accepted different species into their Way, especially through adoption.
Mandalorians as a race were almost indistinguishable from humans, yet this commando was obviously alien. Not that Yska minded. He was obviously humanoid and they were biologically compatible if he was worried about impregnating her. She was fascinated with his blue skin and the swirling yellow-black-white lines. She needed to know what other similarities or differences he might be hiding under that mask! Did he have three eyes? Did he have tentacles for a mouth?
Yska imagined that - now that he'd become familiar to her - those differences wouldn't matter to her. What mattered was satisfying the searing need to know!
As intimidating as he seemed to her, she liked how the warrior looked in his shiny beskar armor, and the dangerous thrill of a secret name and a covered face; not to mention the flanged rumble of his deep baritone that made her insides melt. She wished he would talk more just so she could listen to that sensual, dreamy rumble.
The Mandalorian could be anyone. He could look like anything. If Yska wasn't allowed to know his name or see what the Mandalorian looked like underneath his mask, then she just had to know what his species was! As exciting as the mystery and strangeness could be, knowing his species might give her a face to imagine whenever he loomed over her, inside her.
And…he hadn't explicitly forbade her from trying to find her own answers…. True, the Mandalorian hadn't answered her question when she'd asked, but he hadn't told her she couldn't go...looking. Kriff, he'd even given her a datapad and no restrictions. And a lot of time on her hands. That was practically permission, right?
Off the top of her head, Yska knew her taciturn bounty hunter wasn't a Twi'lik - the lekku couldn't fit under the helmet. She doubted he was a Chiss, but she couldn't rule out the possibility that his markings could be tattoos. Perhaps he was an albino Zabrak, but she'd never seen markings like his on a Zabrak. Her gut told her he was something different.
It was her third day of continuing her search. She'd bookmarked an archive of known sentient species on the galactic database. Yska prayed for some of her research luck to aid her now, typing into the species' search engine: Humanoid, blue skin, skin markings.
22,500,000 results.
She sighed.
The girl tried again: Humanoid, blue skin, skin markings, fingernail tattoos.
15,800,000 results.
Gahhh! She growled in frustration. How many years would it take her to go through the process of elimination? Even if she could nix a species every second, it'd take far longer than her natural lifespan. She deflated. She knew nothing about him. Or...nothing that would help. Yet!
Perhaps she was going about this all wrong….
"Yska," called the Mandalorian from down the hall.
Heart in her throat, she closed the search tab. She opened a reading application to appear as if she'd been perusing a book. "Y-yes?"
"'Yes,' what?" He stopped in the doorway, expectant.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Yska uncurled from the couch, setting the datapad gently on the coffee table. Her eyes cast downward, but her stomach didn't coil like it had a few days ago at the slipup.
"Do I need to spank it into you for you to remember, little human?" The warrior's weight shifted, shoulders relaxed. Voice deep yet smirking through his vocoder.
Yska shivered pleasantly. "No, sir. But...I think you'd like that...sir," she ventured a bold tease, eyes coy and body coquettish.
"Hmm," the Mandalorian hummed, hips canted, visor leveled. "That's just the surface of the things I'd like to do to you, little human." She could feel his coiled energy filling up the space in the room, the scent of leather and hot metal. Heat pooled between her thighs. "Things we will, unfortunately, have to postpone for another time. We are about to dock at Makeb."
Yska's stomach churned.
She had a bad feeling about this….
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Update 5/6/21 - 3853 words
Revised 7/16/23 - 3924 words