Everyone had seen it from the moment he’d led you across the threshold of the covert and introduced you as an ally to his tribe; asked them if you could both lay low in the protected tunnels beneath Nevaro’s streets, whilst the heat from your last bounty died down. Din’s affections towards you had never been overt or expressed out loud but his fellow warriors could see the quiet and brooding feelings he kept locked away at a safe distance. Their first clue being that he brought you here at all; that he chose to work with you.
He’d always been a lone wolf.
If any of them could see him now they’d surely hear the sound of his heart breaking.
Everyone had seen it from the moment he’d led you across the threshold of the covert and introduced you as an ally to his tribe; asked them if you could both lay low in the protected tunnels beneath Nevaro’s streets, whilst the heat from your last bounty died down. Din’s affections towards you had never been overt or expressed out loud but his fellow warriors could see the quiet and brooding feelings he kept locked away at a safe distance. Their first clue being that he brought you here at all; that he chose to work with you.
He’d always been a lone wolf.
If any of them could see him now they’d surely hear the sound of his heart breaking.
He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t still be watching. He shouldn’t have rushed up the stairs in the first place, but at the sound of your cries he thought you were in trouble.
Only upon seeing the scene before him did he realise they weren’t cries of pain - but pleasure.
He’s full of shame and guilt, he knows he should have turned away the moment he laid eyes on you, yet a sordid curiosity keeps him rooted to the spot.
He’s reminded of a time at home - his real home. His mother and father were arguing about something he didn’t quite understand, and a young Din was crouched at the top of the stairs listening in. The way the tone of his mother’s voice lashed at his father, and his father’s cut back in return, made him sick. His brows furrowed so hard that they ached, and his fingers grew tired from gripping harshly at the blanket around his shoulders as he eavesdropped.
Yet no matter how sickly the scene made him feel; two people that before he’d only ever seen happy and very much in love, suddenly shouting out and berating each other with harsh words; he couldn’t bear to turn around and run back to bed like he wanted to. He urged his legs to move; begged them to carry him to the safety of his sheets and shut out the noise with his pillow, but they wouldn’t. The shock and confusion held him as though they were trying to suffocate him, and this kept him seated in place until the argument had long dissipated.
That same feeling sank within him now, as he stumbled upon you riding his vod.
A sickness. A heaviness on his shoulders, as though if he dared to try to move he would be thrown to the ground by an unknown force attempting to pin him to the dirt.
Your back is arched away from the large torso you’re clinging to, neck thrown back, and heaving chest exposed. Even from how far away Din is standing, he can see the hard peaks of your nipples, one firmly locked in the hands of the warrior beneath you as you bounce against his body. The warriors hands move, both coming to cup firmly at the full cheeks rippling against his hips. His hands are so large they seem to engulf them entirely as they force your movement harder against his cock. You place your palms face down on the broad expanse of his chest to give yourself an anchor to move more freely with the guidance of his grip.
The sound of your whimpers still rings in the air, a song that kindles a burning fire at Din’s core now that he knows pleasure is the source of them. Yet a deep sadness sets in to douse the flames as Din reminds himself he’s not the cause of them.
Sat on the head of the enormous man beneath you, is an unmistakable blue helmet.
Paz Vizsla.
Somehow this made Din feel even sicker.
Not that seeing you on top of any of his brothers would have been a relieving sight, but to see you with Viszla of all people hit a distant nerve Din thought he’d forgotten.
Paz Viszla had always had everything. The respect, the power, the strength; the pure-blood Mandalorian heritage. At just a few years older than Din, their Alor would often pair them together for training and hunts, a fact that Din grew to resent.
During their younger years Din had idolised him. He was just that bit older that Din began to look up to him as an older brother, one of such genuine Mandalorian blood that he would be able to teach him the true ways of Mandalore. As a young boy Din had a desperate need to prove himself; to ensure that his rescuers knew that he was worth the life they had saved and the effort they would go to, to teach him.
Paz always had a talent for fighting, his sheer size gave him an unnatural advantage over Din, one that would force Din to learn to fight with speed and intelligence rather than braun. He soon began looking to Paz to teach him more than just fighting. The older boy had a way with girls even as a teen, was popular with all of the other foundlings as well as the adult and high ranking members of the tribe, and he never failed to impress his elders.
It seemed to Din though, as time went on, that all of that childhood success would light small fires of pride inside Paz’s mind, slowly filling his head with air. He began to turn into a brute. Cocky, headstrong, inheriting a wild temper against anyone who dared disagree with him, and worst of all - becoming a bully.
Pazliked being better. He liked being stronger. He liked being of pure blood. He liked that there was no one else in the tribe that had the balls to look him in the eyes and tell him that he was being an asshole.
Din couldn’t stand him anymore.
By eighteen Din had learned to stay out of Paz’s way; nod his head when appropriate, or keep quiet when he disagreed. Din was focused on his own achievements, his own training and skills, and was now doing well - reallywell.
Paz couldn’t stand it.
So much so that on one of their last hunts together Paz stole the kill and claimed it all for himself, having not lifted a finger to kill the beast. He also began to play dirty and without honour during their training time, ensuring that he would win against Din everytime, and taking the extra effort to boast about it to the entire tribe as often as he could. From then on there was nothing Din could achieve, or have, that Paz wouldn’t attempt to take away from him for the sake of his own image and glory.
And here he was now - with you.
Paz grips you harder and flips you onto your back. He begins to pound against your hips relentlessly with a light grip on your throat muffling your screams.
Despite how thoroughly you seem to be enjoying yourself, resentment swells within Din and turns to anger. He hates the sight of Paz with his hands around your throat; how unceremoniously the warrior is fucking you into the mattresses; even the filthy Mando'a (which you can’t even understand) that drips from his tongue as he fucks you. Din thinks you deserve more ceremony than being thrown around so that the Mandalorian can fuck you in the way he wishes. He thinks you deserve more intimacy.
He has to admit, he sees glimmers of softness in Paz as he approaches his peak and readies himself to spill all over your stomach, but Din’s legs finally release him from his torture and allow him to move. He rushes out of the corridor as quietly and as quickly as he approached.
He can’t stand to watch anymore.
The next day Din enters a meeting chamber, looking for the Armourer.
Instead he finds Paz, stood around idly in a tight circle with the other Alor'ads, boasting about his nights escapades with you.
He tells his fellow warriors about the whole evening, leaves no detail out. How soft you are. How hot and wet. How you sounded. How tightly you squeezed around him. How at first you could barely fit him. Gives them details about your body a-
Din snaps.
“She’snot a piece of meat.”
The group of helmets turned slowly at the sound of Din’s voice, each one with a certain air of authority that begged not to be challenged.
Paz lets out a short laugh on his breath.
“I didn’t say she was?”
“You didn’t have to.”
Din leaves the room before the conversation can escalate any further.
