Work Text:
Make me a pretty person
Make me feel like I belong
Make me hard and make me happy
Make me beautiful
***
There's warmth.
There's softness.
She stirs, trying to stretch her legs, but there's a weight upon her pressing her gently into the mattress. She smiles.
She turns around, slowly, carefully, trying not to wake Din, whose arms are wrapped around her – firmly, even as he sleeps, as if he was afraid she might slip away without him noticing.
As if she would.
His grip tightens around her as she settles against his chest, the tips of her fingers running lazily through the dark hair of his pectorals. He hums, a contented sound that makes Cara smile so stupidly she feels the urge to bury her face in his neck, happy that she's awake to hear this. She feels the drying mess between her legs, Din's arousal and her own mixed together on her skin and his, all over the sheets. Her smile morphs into a crooked smirk when she feels one of his hands slip down her hip to sneak between her thighs. She twitches, still surprisingly sensitive, and jokingly nudges him in the shins with a foot.
“Handsy,” she murmurs, pressing into his touch, voice husky and thick with sleep. And maybe not just that.
His light chuckle gets muffled by her hair.
“Just checking.”
She's wet – still or already, she doesn't know. The tip of his middle finger finds her clit, rubs gently against it, making her sigh blissfully.
It's not the first time they've slept together. They've done it before – up against a wall, in the cockpit in the dead of the night, on their knees for each other. It's the first time they made love in an actual bed, and also the first time they've actually slept together.
It took him months to return to Nevarro, kid still in tow. It took him minutes within his arrival to find Cara and start babbling about how silent and empty the Razor Crest was without her. It took Cara the fragment of a second to shut him up with a crushing hug and a couple of touched tears running down her face. She tried her best to hide them, but he saw them anyway, and she didn't even care. She hugged him like her life depended on it, and he hugged her back, just as intensely, and didn't let her go when she tired to pull back.
“I need you,” he whispered, and she just whispered back a quiet, trembling “I know,” before everything became too much for them to control and she found herself pushed up against the wall with Din pressed all over her and her legs hooked around his waist.
Three weeks later, they're still trying to understand what happened that night, what drove them so blind and reckless for them both to just throw away all cautiousness and give in to such raw, feral instincts.
It was the distance, Cara thinks, that amplified their repressed feelings and made them grow stronger and fiercer, powerful enough to take over their reason as soon as they came into contact again.
This, she muses, is how stars are born: when the pressure becomes unbearable and everything collapses into something bright and new and burning.
She reaches down to meet his hand; he stills when he feels her. Cara gently slips his fingers out of herself and drives his hand back to her hip. Din presses his face into her other hand, turning slightly to brush his lips against her palm as she caresses his face, wishing she could see him, even for just one second, languid and relaxed, basking in this hazy afterglow. She's sore all over, but wonderfully so; if she could, she would lie here like this until tomorrow.
“Can we stay here until we die?” she asks sleepily. She's aware she's asking for the impossible: they're scheduled to depart in a few hours and still have to get fuel and provisions. When he told her he and the kid were going to leave, she almost expected him to just go and thank her for the nice time. But Din Djarin is an honourable man, and it didn't take him long to go to her, deliciously brooding, as if expecting to be rejected, begging her to go with him, this time.
The first time, Cara stayed back on Nevarro because of her fear and her insecurity. Somebody, somewhere, once told her she was broken, rotten inside, that she had a black hole where people have a heart, a deep, gaping wound that swallowed everything she tired to feel and left her empty and always hungry, starving for love she would never get to feel.
She believed them for so long she had almost given up on trying to find a place for herself to feel at home, convinced all her capability to love and trust had been wiped away with Alderaan and her family, her friends. Connecting with a stranger was not something she was prepared to face, let alone a stranger whose face she was not allowed to see.
It's almost crazy, now, to be lying here in his arms, naked and satisfied, thinking back to how things began – with kicks and punches and monsters to fight. She should have known, from a beginning like that, that it couldn't be just random stars crossing in the sky.
Din bends forward to kiss her; it's so different from their first kisses, full of fear and hesitation. They kiss like people who've been doing this all their lives, now. They kiss like people who were born to be together and know it.
“We should get up,” he says, and from his tone she can tell how much this idea is unappealing to him.
“Five more minutes,” she begs. She kisses his chin, his jawline, slowly descending toward his collarbone, then up again. He groans, arching under her ministrations. She feels him harden against her thigh and grins with his earlobe between her teeth. “Maybe ten?”
“Don't be mean,” he whines, sounding so needy and helpless Cara can't help spreading her legs to let him roll on top of her. She bites her lip at the gentle press of his hips, his swelling erection throbbing against her wet folds.
“Feels like it's gonna be more than ten minutes,” she teases. She hooks a foot around his waist and drags him closer, grinding her hips forward, aching for friction.
His breath hitches low in his throat. She loves it when he lets her see just how desperate he is for her, when his body speaks for him, demanding what he can't when words are failing him.
It's pitch black, but she can feel his eyes upon herself while his hands explore her, making her whimper and shudder as the pleasure builds under her navel.
It's still a mystery to her, how a man like him could look at a wreck like her and find anything worth looking at – not on the surface, but beneath, where the true her lies. It's not his desire for her body that bemuses her, but rather his love, so pure and unrelenting, for the person she is inside. She feels she doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve the adoration in his touch, in how he talks to her, and yet it leaves her breathless, makes her believe that, if a man like him can love her, she must be worth something, after all.
“You think too loudly,” he murmurs in her ear as he tenderly pushes inside her. He brushes his lips over her cheekbone, exhaling a strangled sigh when she bucks her hips upward to match his rhythm.
“You don't think enough,” she retorts, her fingers tangling through his hair. It feels so wonderful to be able to feel him with all of herself, no filters, no restraints, only their skin and their heartbeats and their moans as the world keeps turning and forgets of them, leaving them in this cocoon of bliss that is only their own, even if it's just for a little while.
“Hard to think at all, right now,” he says, his forehead touching hers as he rocks himself into her, panting, smiling.
Cara grunts out a clipped laugh. “Hard,” she quips, her walls clenching around him as her climax approaches. “Just hard.”
“You little-”
Whatever Din was about to call her gets smothered by his choked cry as he comes hard with Cara's thighs tightening around him, keeping him buried inside her until she, too, comes with an ecstatic moan that fills the whole ship and seems to linger in the air until both she and Din collapse together, spent to the bone, in a mess of sweat and fluids and shaking limbs.
Din rolls to his back, drawing her to lie upon himself.
“That was-”
“Yes,” agrees Cara, still seeing stars, still out of breath. “It was.”
She nestles her head under his chin, his hands resting on her ass, squeezing gently. Their hearts pound against each other in their rib-cages, as if they're trying to break free to get to one another.
This, Cara thinks, surprised, is what it's like to love: it's like your heart doesn't belong to you any longer and constantly longs for its rightful owner, trying to break away from you, aching when it can't have the one it needs.
She tried – tried so hard to be independent, to be enough to herself. It didn't work. It could have worked, maybe, in another life, one when there was no Din Djarin who stumbled into her on a ridiculously small planet in a ridiculously big galaxy and took away a piece of her when he left, and then came back for the rest.
She can't run from this. She couldn't even if she wanted to: they belong together, and it was not a choice. If she could choose, she would probably still choose him, anyway.
The man of gold.
The pure at heart.
The one she will never deserve and who loves her despite it all.
All this time, she thought she was strong, invincible.
It took a gentle soul like him to show her how brittle she really is.
In his arms, she's Beskar turned to glass.
In his arms, she's glass that can't be broken.
***
The emptiness
The craziness
Satisfy this hungriness
Darling
How would it feel?
[ Sleep Together, Garbage ]