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If there’s one thing Cobb admires most about Din, it’s the expanse of his back.
Din is a broad-shouldered man, carrying a lot of his mass in his shoulders and his core. There’s one scar on his back that Cobb likes to trace. An old bullet wound from a slugthrower got between the plating of his pauldron and his back plate.
“It was a kriffing bitch to get out,” Din said as Cobb lazily traced the scars on his body with his tongue and fingers.
Cobb hummed and moved lower, nipping at the soft skin of his hip. “Tell me more.”
There are a lot of stories printed on Din’s body that Cobb comes to know in time. Din isn’t the type of person to share much about himself and Cobb isn’t going to push him. He knows all too much about wanting to keep your cards close to your chest when it comes to painful life experiences. So whenever Din does give Cobb these details, he always lets Din know how much he appreciates him and often shares a story of his own in return. He knows how to be giving when the situation requires it.
He stretches out his hand and runs it down the length of Din’s bare back, feeling lucky that he gets this all to himself. It’s taken time for them to work up to this stage, work through Din’s guilt of taking off his armour, allowing himself to be seen by someone that isn’t of his faith and creed. And Cobb takes all of this for the gift it is because he understands to a degree. For a time, he knew what it was like to wear armour like that and understand its significance. But he understands what it’s like to feel stripped of everything that’s meant to protect you.
Din turns his head a little to look back at where Cobb is sprawled on the bed. His hands still. “Something wrong, cyar'ika?”
Cobb smiles, something lazy and fond. “Nothin’,” he says. “Just admiring the view.”
Din turns his head aside. He’s bashful which is cute. It’s interesting how Din can be so confident about his abilities in one moment and so shy the next.
Din eventually pulls away to stand from the bed, and Cobb takes the time to stretch, folding his hands beneath his head and bending his legs at the knees to get the blood flowing. He closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet in his home, the sound of someone else moving around. It’s a novelty he’s still enjoying, a domesticity he hasn’t experienced, well, ever.
He feels the bed dip at his feet and opens his eyes, a sly grin spreading over his face at the sight before him.
Din rests his weight on the bed on one before crawling up over Cobb, Cobb spreading his legs to accommodate him. He hums happily and reaches up with his hands to hold Din by his sides, hands skimming over his ribs as they kiss. Din runs a hand down Cobb’s thigh, and his dick twitches at the contact. Maker, he’s not even hard yet and he already feels like he’s on the edge.
“Still with me?” Din asks, his breath ghosting over Cobb’s jaw as he kisses down against his neck.
Cobb hums and tilts his neck up so Din can scrape his teeth along his skin. “When you asked if you could fuck me, I thought that you would, you know, fuck me.” He arches his back, presses his hips up, and widens his leg, feeling the cold silicone against his skin, and his stomach twists pleasantly at the thought of it being inside of him.
Din huffs amusedly against his skin and kisses his cheek before capturing his lips again. “What if I want to treat you first? Show you what your worth?”
“If I wanted to draw this out, I’d have a few snorts of spotchka at Werlo’s first,” he says, then punctuates his need by slapping Din lightly on the hip. “Come on, asshole.”
Din hums and stretches out a hand for the bottle of slick on the bed covers. “Your accent comes out more when you’re impatient.”
“I’ll show you impatient.”
Din grins and pours some of the slick in the palm of his hand, coating his fingers, and Cobb extends his left leg as fair as he can as Din draws his fingers down past his balls and—
He sighs at the first breach, eyes closing.
Din laughs, something low and breathy. “Is that it? All bark? No bite?”
“Haven’t been fucked in weeks, and now I have you gettin’ mouthy with me.” Two fingers now. The stretch feels good, familiar. He shouldn’t have waited. He should’ve found someone in Mos Espa. Issa-Or is usually down for a tumble in the sheets, and Din is understanding that Cobb is the type of person to live in the moment, but when he said he was coming to drop by, Cobb waited expectantly because he knew what was coming his way.
But if he knew Din was coming here to just tease him, he would’ve told him to jack off into a sarlaac pit.
But Din is Din and Din will get what he wants. Bounty hunter through and through. Always getting his target.
“And who’s fault is that?” Din asks, scissoring his fingers and pumping them slowly, being the awful tease that he is. “I offered you to come with me, didn’t I?”
“Couldn’t just—ah!—leave the town like that.” He digs his hands into the bedspread, his cock hot and heavy on his hip as Din fingers him almost lazily. Like they hadn’t just spent the past hour kissing and feeling each other up before Din decided to pull the harness out.
“Wasn’t a long job,” Din muses. “Could’ve used you out there. I think you would’ve had fun with it.”
Cobb snorts softly. “Don’t rightly know if I’d do well off world. Too much space and not enough sand.”
“And here I thought you hated the sand.”
“Gonna hate a lot more than just sand if you don’t get on with it.” His hands go for Din’s ass, gripping and tugging him, trying to urge him forward, and stick his dick in him already.
Din only laughs into his neck—the asshole—before adding more slick to his hand, and running it over his dick. It’s a black one this time, a humanoid model. Din wants to keep it simple, and Cobb is already too keyed up to try anything out of the ordinary. It’s seven inches, a nice size around that will feel good sliding in and out of him.
Din wraps his hand around it, lining the head of it against Cobb and—
“Are you sure, cyar'ika?”
“Din, kindly fuck off.”
Din smirks and does as he asks. He pushes himself in, and the stretch is nice, pleasant, as he bottoms out, Cobb arching into the move and losing his breath.
“Shit.”
Din wraps his hand around Cobb’s left thigh to raise his leg and thrust in deeper. “Is that all the Jundland Waste Mutt has to say for himself.” He fucks him at a steady pace but with deep thrusts, filling him repeatedly and thrusting the air from Cobb’s lungs.
“Show you Mutt,” Cobb says and snaps his teeth at Din before Din angles his thrusts and Cobb throws his head back.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” He can hear the smirk in Din’s words, but Cobb doesn’t care. He’s getting fucked and he’s liking it.
Mutt can come out to play another time. Din doesn’t need to see him worked up and raving, doesn’t need to push and prod until Cobb snaps back. Right now, they can have this. They can have Din spread and lifting Cobb, fucking into him deep and hard. He’s going to feel this tomorrow and he doesn’t care if Jo will point out the obvious hickies on his neck. He doesn’t care if he’ll have to put a more obvious effort in walking straight because all of that means Din is going to fuck him and fuck him good.
“Just need, need a little,” he says, breathless before dropping a hand down low.
“I have you.” And then Din’s hand is on his dick, squeezing him just a touch too much until he whines high in his throat with his mouth open.
Din stills for a moment, repositions himself on his knees over him, one hand planted next to Cobb’s head, before he’s fucking him slowly, fucking him in time with how he’s jerking him off, and—oh—that feels good, that feels nice, that’s—
“There?”
A sigh. “Yeah.”
“More?"
“Bleeze.”
“Mm. I love it when you speak Bocce.” And then he goes rough, touching him, thrusting in him, and then Cobb’s orgasm hits him all at once, building up low and heavy before Din wrings it out of him and he comes all over his belly. Din continues to stroke his dick before Cobb whines and pushes at his shoulder and gets the message.
Din is quick to move, pulling himself out of Cobb and moving away from between his legs. Cobb is quick to roll onto his side and curl up, eyes closing in the afterglow as he hears Din move around him. There’s then a dampness between his legs, Din urging him gently to roll onto his back so he can clean him.
Cobb opens his eyes, and sees that the harness is still on Din’s hips. The black leather always looks good on his brown skin, but Cobb always has a desire to see him in red.
He fumbles for Din’s wrist, thumb rubbing at the softer skin on the inner side of it. Din stops for a moment and looks down at him. “Let me suck you off?”
“If that’s what you want.”
He knows Din likes to please his partners. Likes to see that they get off even if he doesn’t. He likes the emotional rush of it all in the moment, and everyone gets their kicks off differently—different strokes for different folks. But Cobb wants to see that favour returned. He wants Din to relax, lie back, and let someone else think of him for a moment.
So Cobb sits up and Din stands between his legs. Cobb works at the harness first. He works at the buckles on the front of it, slowly releasing the straps fall from around his hips and underneath his thighs. Din sighs softly, hands moving to Cobb’s hair as the other end of the toy slips free from him. A shorter extension that would likely rub inside of Din in a pleasing way. It’s even ribbed. An intriguing design and one that Cobb will probably look into later, but right now, he needs to get his mouth onto Din’s dick.
He starts off gently, returning the favour to Din and his post-orgasm haze making him slow and meticulous. He kisses down Din’s belly towards where the hair is thicker.
“Still want this?” he asks, running his hands up and down Din’s thighs. Maker, he loves having his head between them.
“Always,” Din says, and Cobb smiles before nipping at the skin on Din’s waist, harder than he would normally just so Din tugs at his hair.
He gets Din onto his back on the bed. Din has one hand tucked behind his head, his thighs spread to show off his dick, hard and glistening. Cobb waits and waits, sat on his knees before Din beckons him forward with his free hand.
Cobb slinks between Din’s thighs, and he’s never been known to be patient or slow like Din is, but Din always appreciates him for that. Appreciates the rush and the speed in him even if he isn’t as rough as he was ten years ago. Back when he was still the Mutt of the Jundland Wastes, still a feral thing before Mos Pelgo was established. Sometimes he likes to wonder if Din would like him when he was like that. Rough and on edge while he waged his war against slavers and Hutts and Imps.
But that’s another thought for another time.
He wastes no time in getting his lips around Din’s cock, running his tongue against the head of it in one broad stroke. Din’s hand is quick to sink into his hair—his nails skimming along Cobb’s scalp pleasantly to pull him in closer.
“Always had a smart mouth on you,” Din says before breathing out deeply in a controlled manner when Cobb swallows him whole, his nose pressing in the dark curls of hair there.
He pulls off to deliver a quick comment. “Oh, so it’s now that you like my mouth?”
Din shushes him before tugging on his hair, just painful enough for Cobb to get the message and wrap his lips around Din’s cock. He worms a hand up underneath himself to stroke Din’s lips, glistening and pink from where they sit beneath his cock. He rubs at the opening with his thumb first, tonguing his cock before pressing his thumb in.
“Cyar’ika,” he says.
Cobb only hums around his cock, hoping that it feels as good for him as it usually does on Cobb. He focuses on licking and sucking the head of his cock where he knows Din is most sensitive before pulling out his thumb. He gently presses his middle and forefinger in, moving gently in a way he knows Din appreciates.
“I’m close,” Din says, his hand threading into the hairs on the back of Cobb’s head, and Cobb works faster, bobs his head and he knows he’ll likely have a crick in his neck tomorrow, but it’s worth it. It’s worth it in the way Din’s breath comes in shorter and harsher, how his stomach tenses before he feels him clench down on his fingers. He pulls off of his dick and rubs the orgasm out of him until Din collapses boneless on to the bed.
Cobb gives one final lick from the lips all the way to the tip of Din’s cock and feels Din shudder.
“Insatiable,” he says.
“Maybe,” Cobb says, moving up along the bed so he can kiss Din. “When I was younger.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.”
Cobb grins and moves to the side of Din, throwing an arm over Din’s waist and tucking his head under Din’s chin. The bed’s a bit too small for this, and Cobb a bit too lanky for the bed. His foot hangs over the edge of it set up like this. He’ll likely grow cold once the haze has worn off, but right now he wants to enjoy being in Din’s arms, idly tracing the scars he can see. He traces a long one across his pec, and Din sets one hand on top of his, pulling Cobb closer by the shoulders.
“We should do this more often,” Din says, and Cobb hums, smiling into his skin before kissing him where he lay.
“Says the wandering bounty hunter.”
“The offer still stands. You can come with me.”
“Mm. Ask me again tomorrow when I can’t walk straight.”
“Of course, Marshal.”