013. A GOD'S GIFT TO MAN
( —Someone who is or is considered to be extremely attractive and/or irresistible to men. )
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The wanderlust was overwhelming Myra.
It burned her soul like a raging inferno, but her reality was hard. Her life was leading towards just that, she was in control of her future. She was already doing it, fulfilling what needed to be done. For the first time, she was invincible; clutching her fate like a sword of every untold tale and ready to defend.
But sometimes, the fire could be left uncontrolled. Her endless dream would always be left eternal and apathy consuming her whole. She wanted no share of any of that—only the best parts.
A finger traced down from her forehead to the dip of her nose to break her stupor. Myra blinked fervently, looking to her side where Din laid next to her—she had come to differentiate between the Mandalorian and Din Djarin—devoid of his helmet and bright eyes gleaming with curiosity. It was at times likes this that she did not need the Ichor, his eyes were the windows enough into his soul.
"You're so..."
She smiled, and the one heartbeat in the silence impinged. "So?"
"I wouldn't reduce you to a mere beautiful," he said, his voice a gentle rasp. The rough pad of his thumb stroked her bottom lip. "If beauty were time, you'd be timeless."
She kissed his thumb. "I am timeless. Immortality is curiously perpetual."
"Good. This bleak galaxy deserves something as unforgettable."
The Mandalorian was enigmatic, a formidable mercenary, shrouded in strangeness and always seeming to keep his distance due to his path of the Mandalore. While underneath the Mandalorian armour laid the man she truly adored, Din Djarin was curious, unafraid to feel and packing as much dryness as much as he did in his armour. From his thoughts, he had come to love Myra's kisses which, in truth, warmed her heart.
"How come you hear my thoughts and I can't hear yours?" He asked, lifting his head to lean it over his palm and hovering over her. A blanket draped his chest and hers, shrouding them from the frigid atmosphere in the ship. His armour was left behind at the footing of where they laid and she looked back at the metal ceiling with a slow sigh.
"Because," she muttered, "there's not much to see."
"Disagreed," he chuckled. "It's probably got its own archives, too. Legends, myths and whatnot."
"I can tell you what I'm thinking," she suggested with a faltering smile, "just ask me."
"Okay," he laughed through his nose, thinking of how it was so simple to get acquiescence. "What're you thinking about, Myra?"
"I'm thinking," she breathed out, brushing her hair behind her shoulder to roll onto her side and face him completely. She was leaving no holes barred while he wanted her to think about him. "I'm thinking of what's at the edge of the galaxy."
"Probably another galaxy."
She frowned. "Ssh."
"Okay, sorry. Shutting up."
"At the edge," she stressed, lengthening on the word as if it were far, far away. "Beside oblivion. Probably a little planet with its own sunset and sunrise—I want to go there."
"No wonder I can't hear your thoughts," he teased with a smile tugging his lips, laugh lines rippling away. "They're insane."
She rolled her eyes, falling unto her back. Lolling an arm over her eyes, she breathed out deeply, eliminating all the tension that had balled up into her chest. Always thinking, every now and then, daydreaming; that was it for her. Her mind was uncomplicated and abrupt while overthinking was her dislike, it clung to her like foul breath. And just like her past, she left it unanswered.
"Myra."
"Mhmm."
"Can I touch you?"
She grinned without seeing him, a teasing one. "You finally learned."
"That's a yes?"
"Yes."
Overwhelmed, he flickered his gaze over her poised body. He could only continue to dazedly stare for a few moments before Myra chucked his chin gently.
"You're mine, aren't you?"
"Exclusively." It almost sounded like a hint for something else. Myra simply overlooked it.
"Then I'm yours." She nodded once, motioning for him to go ahead. "Come closer."
Din, finally encouraged, stroked her head first. He was careful to be gentle, using the very pads of his fingertips to feel her. She was beyond human—an infinite spirit he could never deserve. Her hair was an obsidian river, smoothing over her dusky skin and he loved it when they braided themselves against his fingertips, like tendrils with a mind of their own. If he looked close enough, there was a smidgen of gold lingering on the length.
"I like it when you pleat it," he murmured blankly. "Especially when you fold it with flowers."
"Flowers you gift," she teased.
"You don't like them?" He sounded disheartened.
"I'd be a fool if I didn't." She smiled, leaning forward to kiss his nose. "The flowers are magical. I'd love more."
"Good," he mumbled.
His warm touch had arrived over her hip, turning over her side so he could view her back and lifting the hem of her dress carefully. A single one of his fingers trod down the visible bones of her spine, slowly and seemingly tracing the ink patterns that laid scattered over her back. Most of her ink had manifested over her back, the ones that were truly important had been on the noticeable side.
"This," his finger tapped the region a little above the dip of her waist. Myra watched her curious Mandalorian from the crook of her elbow, a knot rising in her floored stomach. "It's an arrow."
"That is the rune for authority. Leadership," she revealed, remembering when she had got it. "It was accidental, actually. I trained Winta the other day and then, earned this."
"You're kind of an idiot for a leader," he laughed until a sharp force knocked into him, face first. The kriffing Ichor. He let out a small groan, pushing the side of her shoulder playfully when he heard her soft laugher.
"You can't take a joke, can you?" He grumbled, rubbing the soreness away with a thumb.
Then, his sly finger travelled to her shoulder where her intricate, circular dragon-shaped tattoo had been inked. Of course, he would be curious about the littlest yet most beautiful ink.
"This looks friendly."
She grinned in ominosity, leaning toward him with a cryptic grin. "Have you ever seen dragons?"
He blinked in wonder, smiling softly. It took all his fervour to not plant a firm kiss over her tempting lips. "You saw one?"
"It was enormous," she whispered. "Larger than this ship. It breathed fire and my father imprisoned it in his dungeon before it destroyed Iego itself. For years, he caged it. Until it got smaller and smaller and one day, it died."
He scrunched his nose. "Just like that?"
She sighed sorrowfully, turning on her back. "Sadly, yes. She was a wonderful creature—gone too soon."
Deciding to wander further, he let his fingertips graze over the skin between her breasts, delving deep until the curve on the two defined lines on her abdomen. Din's shoulders moved with every heavy breath he took, his heart arresting and relenting at odd paces.
Myra loved to see how much she was affecting him and how sweet it was that he did not know that he did the same to her. She shivered when his fingers arrived at the closure of her legs, dark eyes looking at her with playfulness. His teeth sunk into his lips in delight, rubbing a finger downwards, but he was returned a deadpan smile.
"No," was her simple answer.
He breathed out in disappointment, taking her refusal with an ounce of respect. He knew there were still lines to her intimacy, letting his finger journey on in curiosity.
"This one," he tapped on it, the strange curves and cuts of the darkest magenta ink on her body. "It's darker than the rest."
"Don't laugh," she mumbled at him, her lips curved down to a frown. "But it depicts wrath. Fury. Vengeance."
He blew out a breath, trying harder to hold in his fits of roaring laughter. A little chuckle spilt out as he spoke. "You sure are an angry little witch."
"Amusing," she retorted, showing her back to him in annoyance. "Are you done?"
"Not even close," he grinned.
His touch lingered over the dip of her neck, pushing the heavy hair over her shoulder to catch a better glimpse. She heard him intake a sharp breath when he found something surprising.
"This is," he breathed in incredulity. "This is the symbol of the Mandalorian."
Myra straightened up, turning in all awkward positions to catch a glimpse. His hand was stretching the skin and Myra caught the sight of a silhouette in his mind that resembled a mutated skull, two long horns bending downward like tusks.
"Why is that there?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Odd."
"Not odd." He smoothed an affectionate kiss over it. "Majestic. Like the woman who bears it."
She quietly stroked the place where his touch refused to vanish. "You glorify me too much."
"And you too little."
She laughed in a whisper, shaking her head. "Sometimes, I wonder how I look from under there."
"Where?"
She stroked a nimble finger down the glinting helmet beside her. How daunting it must be to wear it.
"Like you're mine," he said.
She bit her lip. "Mhmm."
How much of an impact did the Mandalorian have on her? Aside from the fact that this man had the ability to pulverize her from the inside out with just his mere gaze, she was confused as to why the mark had been imprinted on her skin. She continued to run on it, deep in thought and contemplative about where to go next.
By now, Din had rested his head over the elevated platform and shut his eyes. Myra was caught in awe again, of how peaceful yet strong a person could be when dormant. His hair had stuck out in odd directions—because of her—and his sun-kissed skin looked like gold in the lights.
"Why are you holding my hand?"
"We literally slept together," he sighed out, without opening his eyes.
Myra reflected on that for one beat. She slid a hand under the blanket, traced the sharply defined network of powerful muscles on his abdomen, which caved a little with her touch, and sent a few fingers to linger by his sex lines. Before she could go further—
Din closed his legs together and burst out laughing. "That's not what I meant!"
She pushed her bottom lip out in confusion. "I want to hold you, too."
"Not there. And you can't just... grab it. Dank farrik, Myra." He practically hissed the last part out.
"But I did it when—"
"That was different. Boundaries."
She rolled her eyes. "So fainthearted for someone so fearless. It's no fun." She rolled onto her front and frowned at him. "You still haven't told me why you want to hold my hand out of all the other places you can touch."
"Because," he inhaled deeply, "I don't want you to disappear again when I wake up."
She laughed, muffling the sound into his shoulder. Of course, he would have such a lovable fear. His hand tightened between hers on impulse, driving his nose into her hair. She could read his mind which seemed to intrude into their moment—he was thinking of them. Together, wondering what they were. Where they stood in this alliance.
Myra chose not to address his concern, fitting her head into the crook of his neck. He brought her hand to his lips, gently kissing every pad of her fingers while taking his own sweet time. Her knuckles, her nails and Myra felt her flutter unsteadily. She spoke up suddenly.
"Can you take me to Endor?"
He blinked awake. "Endor?"
She nodded, laughing through her nose. "It's a sanctuary moon. I heard a traveller speak when I was a little girl. He said there were forests, light as far as the eye could see and houses in the trees. Most beautiful sunrises."
He seemed to be interested, leaning his head across a fist. "Where else do you want to go?"
"Hmm..." She thought about it, tapping her chin. "Coruscant?"
"The city?" He was surprised. He watched a tendril of chestnut hair float over her eyelids, sweeping it behind her ear. "The mountains are beautiful there. I visited a long time ago."
"You travel a lot," she stated simply. "I find myself envious of your leisures."
"Don't be. It's a pain in my ass, sometimes," he laughed.
"That independence," she sighed, golden eyes eddying out all sorts of emotions he could never decipher.
"Okay," he breathed, his mind rolling to place a decision. "The Outer Rim. It's secure, maybe the kid could be safe there, too."
She lifted her head from his chest with a gasp. "You'll take me?"
Before he could roll his eyes at her, her mouth had claimed his. He jolted back before chuckling and dipping his hand into her thick hair. He held her neck in support, her legs going to straddle his waist in dire need to be close. He was moving up, dragging his needy fingers up her back with a soft moan.
"You got anywhere else in mind?" He mumbled into her lips. "I could use some more of this."
She laughed, stroking her nose with his gently, and tightening her thighs around him. "Unappeasable, Mandalorian."
His kisses were tender on her cheeks, worshipping the feel of her smooth, dark skin against his. "Can I ask you something?"
She nodded, pulling away with a blink. Instead of letting him ask, she questioned him. "Does this bother you?"
Intrigued, he cocked a brow. She explained it in her actions. She dragged her palms up his bare chest to settle it over his shoulders. Leaning forward, she gifted him with a kiss on the pulse of his neck.
"Oh," he realized what she was trying to say with a laugh. "No, of course not."
"Then, what troubles you?"
"It's just," he breathed out, "If you leave again, can you, at least, tell me you're going to be alright?"
She blinked. "What?"
"I don't worry per se but," he searched for safe words with a soft gulp, "l do. But, I just want to know if you're safe. Wherever you are."
Myra flashed him a smile, showing all her teeth and eyes swallowed by her cheeks with amusement. Pushing a hand to tuck her hands into her dark fringe, she softly laughed and agreed.
"I will try," she complied. "And, you should know."
"Yes?"
"No matter where I go," she smiled. "I'll come back. I've taken too much of liking to you."
His breath hitched at her surprise confession. "Oh. Um, thank you."
Myra laughed softly, showing all her teeth and her eyes vanishing into the grin. His heartbeat arrested, faltered and recuperated, all in a matter of seconds. Biting her lips, her gaze roamed around his face thoughtfully and landed on a darkened bruise, a little beneath the curve of his shoulder.
"Oh my," she worried, getting on her knees to examine it. Din watched her eyes darken as she started to fret, a new sort of fury climbing on her cheeks. "That darned hunter."
"It'll fix itself," he eased her of her worries.
"Perhaps I could help," she mused.
That was never good. Din told himself this was Playful Myra that had surfaced. And whenever she did, she came with the promise of tricks, teases, and plentiful kisses.
Quickly, he decided to take advantage. Spirited eyes merged with his waiting ones, bestriding him once again to place her pillow-soft lips over the deep blemish. The skin on that region heated and he hummed inaudibly, watching the bruise sink to vanish beneath.
"And?" She coerced, light eyes prying. Playful Myra was hard to encounter and the most effortless to handle. "Show me more."
"Uh, well," he cleared his throat, "I once fought off a raider on Naboo. Nearly took out a vein. Right here."
Myra saw the straight, light scar where his finger traced, her eyes landing back on his. Regarding him, she tended forward to kiss the spot warmly. His eyes shut upon the feel of it, surreal upon the divesting.
Oh, he loved this game. It was like this nurturing bud in his chest had started to bloom awake with a twinkle as her lips provided the heat, light and emotion that was necessary.
"This was from a Kijmi spice runner who sparred with me," Din murmured promptly, pointing to the hollow of his neck. "The blade didn't get through entirely."
"This one?" She traced a nimble finger around the regenerated tissue that had left a white scar. Her sable skin was a vivid contrast to his, once again gifting him with a tickling, engaging kiss right over it. Praise the deities, this was all he was going to think about until his dying days.
"Broken knuckles," he whispered.
Her elegant fingers twisted between his, lifting up his index finger to bring it into her mouth. Just like that, she gave it a leisurely suck. Din's mouth parted with a shocked breath.
She bared her toothy smile into his finger, her tongue teasing the tip. "Where else?"
"An unlikely blast on Nevarro," he filled in as he outlined a scar on the bridge of his nose, that had been the result of his helmet biting through the scorching heat and searing away a slab of his skin. "Had to get a new helmet fixed."
"Tch, looks bad," she whispered, fixating a warm kiss over the scar and dragging it across the cheeks, to graze her teeth over his ears. Her voice was hoarse and his jugular bounced with forced restraint. "Where else?"
"Shattered jaw when I was training," he mumbled without explanation, touching the edge of his lips.
Din's mind was a haze, drifting ungainly between pleasure and reality, as her lips lifted to an amused smile, willing the purpose away, to kiss the suture of his jaw warmly. More, he felt himself thinking, where else?
"Busted lip," he tried to say without pleading. Or was that cheating? "Every damned time."
"Oh, my—right here?" Her hot breaths teased him to no extent, voice trickling like molasses, passive and his head moving closer to claim more. She was punishing him with slow desire, it was too much for him to stomach.
"Just," he swallowed hard, forgetting words. "Very, very, extremely painful."
"Mm," she hummed, concealing a throaty moan. "You little fraud."
"Kiss me," he ordered rigidly, Myra immediately taking delight in his underlying plea. Her teasing lips made nearly inaudible moans as his unrestricted hands begged to explore under the rump.
She had loved to flirt with him, toy with him, touch him where he most liked it but for a fleeting moment. It drove him insane but, it was what reminded him that he was devoid of this wonderfully weird creature for far too long, that now, he did not know would occur if he were to lose it.
"Over here?" Myra's lips continued to caress his cupid's bow. Then, the velveteen glow of his bottom lip. "Or here?"
"Myra," he blurted out of the blue, pushing his hands under her backside.
Smothering a laugh which released via her nose, Myra reached to his face, long fingers disappearing into his hair, thumb stroking his lip before the urge to win a kiss came over him.
Myra had become the shadow, the stars, and the moonlight, all at once. One perfect, unforgettable moment of a view, dark lashes fluttering over her cheekbones and dust motes of gold eddying where her fingertips melted on his.
Deliberately, inexorably, her mouth closed over his. Gentle, chaste, hot with need, moving in sync, his head rocked back into the ground when her hands forced his shoulders down. He complied, only because it was Myra, feeling her hands braced beside his ear to power the kiss her all. He let his hands feel the dip of her backside, pushing her into him with a leg angling over her waist.
A soft moan collided with his, as a strong hand buried into her thick hair to move her which he wanted. She allowed him to, nibbling on his lip to release it slowly.
"Does that feel better?" She muttered, breathless.
"So much better," he laughed into her lips, capturing ahold of the lushness to lose himself into her in another night like the one on Sorgan.
X X X
{ i know, short chapter BUT caught any clues, peeps? other than the *wink wink* stuff, but what's to come? you have ZERO CLUES—eheheheheh }