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Offshore Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3311 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
On we go with the royal couple... recommended music: Nightwish - Imaginaerum

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sAtqBrHA2I
Chapter 1.8 – Jango pays Tomoe a nightly visit (after curfew day 26)
Just after lights-out at 2130, Jango slowed his pace as he approached the door of the tiny private quarter he had given to Tomoe after the battle circle. Last time he had stepped through that door, his memory ended with the searing pain of her knife driven into his armpit and lungs. He had made the way out on his back afterwards, headed for the infirmary. He swallowed the bile in his throat. Aside of the gruesome memories he felt quite inapt when it came to romantic encounters.
Well, he had thought of something to bring and would not let himself in with an overwrite probe, tonight he would just ring the doorbell…
Fat raindrops pelted the small window of Tomoe’s quarter, but inside, it was warm and she had reduced the light. Expecting him already, she answered the door immediately. She had changed into yukata, let her hair down and appeared ready for bed. ‘Oh, so easy…?’ He became acutely aware that he was wearing full armor, since his plan for tonight included stepping out. A raincoat was draped over his arm for her.
He took off the helmet. Tomoe flipped a long sleeve over her hand to take it gracefully, escorted him in and placed the helmet on the small table. Face to face at last, she turned to him, not quite knowing where to put her hands without touching blank metal or a weapon system. Once she settled on his biceps, he enfolded her in his embrace carefully not to bruise her back with the ridges of his gauntlets as he cupped the back of her head to kiss her gently, then more insistent as his instinct took over. She felt soft and pliable, had made herself so easily accessible...
She kissed him back and found out at the same time that she was too short to reach over his arms to undo the buckle of his utility belt behind his back. So far he had shed his armor before they got there, unless she counted… A nervous laugh escaped her. She felt awkward and cut that strand of thought. She would learn how to undress him gracefully, starting now. She inched back and he let go.
“Cyar’ika,” Jango tried to interrupt since her arms had found their way around his waist and she was now pulling on his utility belt resolutely, “…wait a moment.” The startled look on her face was priceless. It occurred to him that if he’d just thrown her onto the bed and parted her thighs, she would have been less surprised. ‘C’mon, I’m a bit savage - not a complete animal?!’ he felt slightly embarrassed. “I thought it would be customary to bring something… something to make you feel good. Boba informed me that you were …embarrassed by my mark.”
“I said that I don’t mind …anymore.” Tomoe tiptoed around a potential insult.
“Anyway, I would like to take that mark from your back …and give you something instead. I would like to introduce you to my ship properly, give you access and keep you safe. So, if you don’t mind stepping out…” Jango held the heavy cape open for her and draped it over her shoulders, kissing her again as he pulled up the cowl. Since it was made for him, it reached down to her ankles. Not that anybody watched them walking the corridors, but it covered her against the rain that beat on the landing platform as well.
Feeling elated that she would trust him and simply accompany him, they made a run for the cover of the giant beak of the Slave I in unison. Jango keyed in the code with speedy routine and guided her inside. The ship powered up, lights and other systems came to life with a low hum. Once inside, Jango palmed the key-pad immediately to seal them from the thunderstorm outside. The hatch-panels ran down the beak with a final “thud-thud-thud”.
Tomoe slipped the coal off her head and looked around; this ship held memories of imprisonment as well as wounded escape. The smell of disinfectant, weapon lubricant and scorched metal was distinctive, but the coppery tang of blood on her palate was probably just her imagination acting up. There were manacles hanging by the side of the spot she was standing on, not to mention the cages on board. Was she being played?
In the gloom of the corridor Jango slid the rain coat off her shoulders gently. “Please stand underneath the scanner,” he informed her casually, hung up her dripping cloak, hooked his helmet to the back of his belt and manned the security panel at the other end of the narrow walkway “Normally this would is done with just a body glove on, but the scan should go through the bathrobe if I raise....” He mused and started the procedure. When he returned his attention to her, his breath hitched in his throat.
Tomoe had interpreted his uttering in her own way, pulled the sash loose and now her fingertips ran up inside the collar of her robe to slip the bathrobe off her shoulders with an easy, graceful and oh-so-revealing move. The winged garment slid to the floor like bird’s pinions as she faced up to him, her eyes wide black pools. Jango swallowed hard. She really knew how to draw blank, ‘Up-tight-mode no longer…’ he mused. This way, his plan would come to nothing yet again! A quick glimpse back at the data panel told him he had caught just that moment in a high-resolution-hologram. He hit save and send it to his helmet’s memory chip for good. “Just stand easy,” he breathed, blinked slowly and undid his gloves.
Catching up with his true intentions, Tomoe just smiled smugly.
On the second run, her pose expressed casual patience; it still had to be reduced in resolution and detail to be sent to an armor smith without his jealousy tearing him apart. He planned to do the pre-order on her ’gam on the next supply run.
“Done. Next thing I need is a hand print, an iris-scan… and a voice and blood sample, just a tiny prick,” She stepped beside him, her robe slung over a shoulder casually “alright.” His hands felt warm on hers as he took the sample and fed the probe into the computer’s interface as well. His other hand slid around her waist, feeling the silken softness of her belly as he made her stand between his arms while he worked, inhaling the grass-scent of her hair “Now the Slave I knows you. It will let you approach and enter the key-code. If you get that wrong accidentally, it still won’t shoot you.” - “Thanks.” His fingertips found her nipples had stiffened from the chilly air already, “Let’s take this upstairs, cockpit level’s heated,” he nudged her to move on.
She could see the arousal in his eyes, the intense hunger he had for her. But he was a man who put his mission first.
Her butt looked so nice when she climbed the ladder in front of him, it made up for the sting he felt in his rips. Coming up right behind her, he boldly nuzzled against her neck. Despite the just-back-from-business impression his armor had given her on the first glimpse, she noticed that he had shaved his nine-o’clock-shadow just for her, his skin felt soft and smooth against hers. His bite mark on the base of her neck had faded, but his cold armor pressing up against her bare skin still gave her the creeps, especially if she was to lay face down.
“Make yourself comfortable on the bunk while I get the dissolvent for your back.”
She dropped her robe on the bunk and turned to face him, catching him around the waist smoothly “Since I’m already out of it, would you let me try and take those plates off?”
It was significantly warmer in the cockpit and his flight suit felt too hot and too tight. Not that taking it off would help him cool down. Nevertheless, any argument meant that he would just have to withhold longer. “Sure,” he invited her help and unhooked the helmet from his belt to set it aside. For once, he didn’t transfer the bean comlink to his ear. It was lights-out in Tipoca and the commanding officer was taking a well deserved break from all communication but red alarums.
Tomoe unlatched the utility belt. Surprised by the weight of tools and ammo he packed on a daily basis, she caught it by pressing herself up to him for all she was worth. Creation knew what could go off if she dropped this?! “oups…” Jango moaned and stole a kiss off her pursed lips, unbuckling the girth belt he wore below the ammo belt. Quick witted girl she was, she sunk on her knees to unbuckle the thigh straps of the holsters before going any further. Jango ran his fingers over the side and shoulder fixtures of the vest, slipping it off his shoulder and arm, avoiding the catches on the gauntlet in speedy routine. While he didn’t mind her kneeling in worship of his best piece, she came up in time to learn how to unlock the gauntlets and dismantle the tubes that went into the flight suit. Her attention to technical details told him that she meant business ...in a long-term way, which was fine, too.
The holster and the codpiece came off and he sighed in relief on the bulge that remained underneath the fabric. ‘Yes,’ he hugged her close, she still wouldn’t let him press her down on the bunk?! No, he wasn’t going to put his back into it. “Will you please just trust me and let me do this?” he demanded with an impatient growl. Couldn’t she make up her mind?
He was looming over her, making demands and his knee pads were still attached to the flight suit. She knew firsthand what just those little spikes could do to the tender back of her knees. It made her feel vulnerable and she wanted him out of all that before going any further, period. “Why now? Why here?” she blurted out.
“You didn’t give me a chance to keep my promise we when came home last night. I know it’s embarrassing to you and I want you to walk among the Cuy’val Dar with pride and dignity. We have to start over. The Slave I is my –our- home, more so than that apartment in the stilt city. I want to give you time to adjust,” he simply let go and got the dissolvent from the cubicle, showing it to her, “It will probably sting a little, but less than the application. You’ll be alright.”
She swallowed, “Boba told me it was your symbol on my back and Rav told that symbols were… shared by Mandalorian couples.”
“That’s different,” the wrongs came crushing down on his mind and he fought to sort himself out for her. “I used a non-permanent paint on your back,” he finally managed to choke out and admitted, “It’s for marking cargo-boxes usually. It’s clingy, but it would faint after a while… I don’t want to watch it fade away while you try to scrub it off like dirt whenever you take a shower. I want you to feel pure, especially when I touch you. I want you to enjoy our lovemaking thoroughly, to become one with you when we are together.”
“Ahh…” she blushed fiercely and sat back on the bunk. Feeling his hurt made her regret her tense questioning of his intentions… and then, he started talking about his expectations and she hoped he wouldn’t stop. “Would you please just undress?” Being literal usually worked best with Fett…
“Sure.” Jango undid his boots and zipped off the flight suit all together with the remaining plates. He would just have preferred a little isolation to last longer. Looking down, he realized that he hadn’t even considered those little extras as threatening as… He sought her gaze and all was well - she could watch her fill on his big asset as she lay down on her stomach. He ran his palm over the back of her thighs, knees and calves, made a mental note of the scar he had left on her right calf, then back up in gentle reassurance before he mounted the narrow bunk nimbly and straddled her thighs. His member was quite happy nestling into the soft spot underneath her buttocks - for now.
He brushed her silky hair aside and traced the mark on her back with his fingertip one last time. “We are no couple yet… but - you belong with me,” his voice seemed to echo within her soul, “and I will protect you, with my hands and mind, not just by slapping some paint on your back. I want us to become one and stay one even when we have to part. And when we will share everything, I want it to be permanent. It would be your decision when and where you want it, on your natural skin or on your iron skin.”
Yesterday, he had told her not to trust him, today he introduced her to the first contents of his people’s marriage vow in short order. Without ceremony, he told her he wanted it. They would get there. “Iron skin?” She could feel his gorgeous erection, smooth like velvet clad iron against her.
“Beskar’gam - Mandalorian armor,” he explained and got to work, applying the dissolvent on the painted areas on her back carefully.
“Yours is unmarked,” she noticed, while the others were sporting a riot of colors, markings and scratches. Her skin crawled and warmed under the sting of the dissolvent. It felt like the heated silhouette was tugging and lifting to break free from her back like a paper dragon taking flight. “Does it hurt?” he asked - “More than I remember,” she huffed, “I had other things on my mind last time.” – “…have to keep you occupied then.” Jango put the bottle away in a sliding shutter shelf over the bunk. He supported himself with his palm over her shoulder blade easily then went to rub her trapezius muscle to make up for the ache.
“If you really want to get to know a Mandalorian, the inside of the helmet is more telling than any outside symbol,” he contemplated above her, his thumbs working along her neck and shoulder blades gently. He would have to clean up the helmet memory first thing in the morning. In case she put his statement to the test, she probably wouldn’t mind if he kept tonight’s indecent little holo-clip two blinks away, but he couldn’t have her stumble over a slaver’s manual still loafing around.
She glanced up to him, “Uh hmmm…” his hands were warm and firm on her back, making it impossible to pursue that seductive thought. Tomoe trembled in delicious excitement and rested her face on her cheek, then arched into his touch, introducing the anxious head of his member to her running juices. It jumped in enthusiasm.
Jango luxuriated in the shift of her thighs under his crotch, allowing her a little more leeway while he kept her pinned to get the job done. He remembered how fighting her had stoked his ingrained lust for battle and added to his excitement, testing his slave’s strength and fighting spirit before breaking it with his superior strength and subjecting her to his sexual demands ruthlessly. Neither her reproach nor his late apology could change that he had truly carved it …that day.
What she did to him now wasn’t nearly as forceful as her fighting had been. In the wiggle room he had provided, her muscles worked in an erotic alteration of firm and pliable along his inner thighs. Tomoe could be all claws, teeth and elbows, but now it felt like everything about her became smoother, softer and rounder... for him. The crease where her bottom met her thigh vanished with the rise of the beautiful white globes of her butt, her centre glistening with sweat and arousal …while he just rubbed her back, enjoyed the play beneath him and waited for the dissolvent to work.
There was a little click of understanding. Tomoe was getting all worked up and exited underneath him before he had even done anything serious! Just telling her some more about his intentions and his casual massage had lulled her into a peaceful moment of trusting bliss. Four days ago she had challenged him, and he could tell here and now that gentle and consensual was working for him, most definitely. He didn’t want this to stop! He knew her mind was adrift but open to suggestions and he continued to tell her things.
“My armor was green once, which stands for duty… after Galidraan, it was refurbished to be put into the governor’s private collection. I retrieved it from there, but with everything gone, it just didn’t feel right to paint fresh symbols of ancient glory. For now, the blue stands for reliability, while the grey of the unpainted plates stands for mourning.” He felt that the memories would always remain with him, but it was far easier to detach from the pain now. They had a future to shape.
He wiped the stains and dissolvent off her back with a clean cloth. His mark of ownership gone, he applied a generous amount of creamy lotion, rubbing it in before he sheathed his raging erection in a condom. When he brought his hands back up, he brushed the sides of her breasts, eased up and kissed the nape of her neck. He had been good, now he would harvest her praise and pleasure.
“Turn around, Tomoe, it’s done.” Her head rose at the sound of his voice, so deep and husky. She lifted the heavy black curtain of her hair from her face with her lower arm. His warm hand cupped the breast she exposed to him as she twisted and untwined their legs on the narrow bunk carefully not to kick him. He nibbled her bared throat and gently guided her over so she was lying on her back looking up at him. Exploring every inch of her, his caress slid over her breasts and stomach. He sat on his heels and chuckled at the surprised expression on her face. Yes, he would take her, and not her body only, her mind and soul also.
He was so confident; it bordered to that certain male arrogance he would air after the act, when he was sated. “Thank you,” Still unhurried, he rubbed the inside of her leg he had draped over his hip. The realization that she could truly let her guard down formed a warm puddle in her womb. Now, if she wanted release from that tension bubbling deep inside, she had to ask him to proceed. “You were right, it makes me feel better,” she shifted her weight from her back to her shoulders and moistened her lips. “Going out tonight… here… you surprised me. Thank you for giving me the key to your true home, allowing me in… and making me feel safe here. Jango…” She licked her lips that were still not used saying his first name. The smile on his face widened and a glitter peeked through his half lidded eyes, encouraging her further, “Please don’t stop touching me, I need you now, I want to become one with you...”
“As you wish.” he sunk into her with her guidance, felt her arch beneath him and push up to take him deeper. Her breath was warm against his jaw and her long legs immediately went to wrap around him. He rocked against her until he filled her completely. Once she had him locked and secured in her tight hold, his hands wrapped around her waist and guided her rhythm as he put his back into their lovemaking. He felt her adjust and release one muscle a time to flow with him when he straightened up to pump into her.
His callous palm ran over her convulsing pelvis, caressing the spot underneath her belly button where he pounded from the inside. Not too rough, was he? Her pleased smile told him his firm gentleness was received well. ‘Ibac’ner,’ he didn’t dare to utter it yet, ‘mine,’ He would give her some more pleasure and see what she would turn over to him in return… His thumb brushed over her clit lightly, then more insistent as he felt her shudder around him and heard her moan. He truly enjoyed how responsive she had become. Willing and eager was working for him even better…
She could feel his cock growing even harder and larger inside her as the aftershocks of her orgasm released him from her tight hold. Becoming undone, he decided to go no further and simply burst in that place she had given up to his ardent use. “You went with me unarmed…” he praised, the muscles of his arms tightening. He tore into her glistening body over and over with all the strength of his lower back and she mewled in lust. Her sexy little sounds made him last shorter than was good for his pride but he didn’t care. “Here, nobody will hear you, but me…” – “Jango?!” – Delighted at his name bubbling over her lips, he slapped her hand away before she could bite down to stifle herself “…just scream.”
…and she did, his demure little lady sounding like a nexu in heat. He roared his response as their joint effort crashed her civilized shell. When his world expanded again from being narrowed down on the ecstasy they found in each other, heavy rain was beating on the canopy of the cockpit.
It was good to be home.
The after effects of the orgasm still coursing through him, he dimmed the reading lamp and rolled them over on the narrow bunk. He appreciated Tomoe playing a more active part, especially when he was on top, but he wouldn’t let her bear his smothering weight for too long.
She was coated in a light sheen of sweat that highlighted her curves in the reddish gloom of the cockpit behind her. The backs of the three pilots seats shielded them like silent wardens against the flashes of lightning outside. He kicked the blanket up from the foot piece and she pulled it up to mid back. “How long can you stay?” he asked – “Until dawn” – “Good,” he breathed and closed his eyes with a satisfied smile, overcome with warm afterglow. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin over the top of her head.
“I feel a repaint coming on.” Tomoe mused, snuggling up to him as he breathed contentment.
“Yes. It’s all on my list for the next supply run.”
“Will you take me with you?”
“…No. I need you to stay on Kamino with Boba.” His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched, but he did not necessarily look angry. It appeared to her like he was deep in thought.
Tomoe rested her chin on her folded hands, her lower arms forming a comfortable triangle over his wide chest, “You took Boba with you last time.”
“You know the outcome,” Jango replied flatly and thought ‘Don’t push your luck.’ He realized that despite the age difference, he wasn’t going to teach her the first thing about sex. He had to be careful, or she would not only instruct him, but fuck his brains out and wrap him around her nimble fingers.
Even angry the man was absolutely gorgeous, dark eyes sparkling, his olive skin stretching over his cheekbone as he set his jaw, his sensual lips thinning into a wide line that still held a chinch of amusement… She gave him a break, and herself as well. Her body was taking a nap, but her mind spun about what Rav had said about the military hierarchy. She had the feeling this wasn’t his only reason to lock her up in Tipoca once she had returned willingly. There was more about it, things they could only talk about in private. Gilamar had been very discrete today, but what if the Cuy’val Dar could not accept both of their kids? What if they had to leave all of sudden? On the long shot, their stay at Tipoca wasn’t more permanent than four to five years and the Slave I was more of a hide-out than a family home. She came to a conclusion. While she would do as he told, Jango had to work on his possessive streak. He get used to the thought of them moving more freely, take what she offered and most important - develop some trust.
“Hm.” Tomoe straightened up and ground down on him. “It makes you feel vulnerable,” she analysed.
“Yes… in many ways,” he simply admitted, taking a firm hold on her butt as a precaution. But Tomoe didn’t shift her weight to punish him, she exposed her own vulnerable centre to his. He felt a stir in his loins and didn’t relinquish his grip, just ran his hands up to her narrow waist. Since she had just taken the edge off his passion, he was at leisure to explore her mind and body lovingly.
“afraid that I could run off?” she wiggled her butt to encourage him further.
“Maybe… but since I have found a way to hold you…” Jango chuckled. He felt she was ready for him again; reached over his head to hand her protection, then went to pluck her nipples while she had her hands full. She looked so beautiful with her pale torso flushed pink with excitement and her nipples erect, round breasts nestling between her upper arms as her hands aroused him to full hardness with firm, even strokes and sheathed his manhood in synth-skin. “I couldn’t move as unobtrusive. You catch eyes…”
“You really don’t like concurrence.”
“Indeed and I don’t like adversaries attacking what they consider my weak spot.”
“I’m not weak.” she wagged a finger in front of his face, and then traced the line of his lips curling upwards.
“I know.” He ran a fingertip over her belly, teasingly; delighting in the firm contractions he would feel all around him as soon as he reclaimed her “I enjoy your strength. Big time.” He grabbed her hips and lifted her to drive into her smoothly, savouring her sensuous struggle to adjust to his onslaught. “Just thinking of you hunting and fighting, defending the family with your untiring blade gets me hot. It’s a Mando thing. Mating with strong women guarantees strong offspring.”
“Why did you defer to slavery then?” She didn’t look angry, just being a mirsheb about it now?!
“Hm. Foul compromise… temporary measure… like your ‘secret’ nightly visits before marriage,” he teased. “Do you realize that I didn’t even know back then what treasure I had laid my hands on? But I always knew there was plenty of strength and fighting spirit in you, Cyar’ika …and there is no better way to make that clear to everybody than a layer of beskar,” he returned to his mission to raise her from being mandokarla to being a Mando’ad.
“Coming from a line of sword smiths, I would like to meet the maker of my armor.”
“I can arrange conference calls without you leaving Tipoca. You will get your say in the making your armor. ” he bridged his body easily, stretched his sore rips and allowed her to ride him. “You are my equal in our relationship, at home as well as to outsiders. Nevertheless, while we are in Tipoca, I need you to regard the chain of command like everybody else,” He reserved barking for the training grounds, but his voice had picked up quiet commanding tone.
“Submit to your command,” she clarified, looking down on his supine position. Did he expect her to pull a straight face at his announcement? With him so deep inside her sweet spot, she felt too good to wipe the smile of her face. ‘Guess I’m not military enough yet,’ she bit back a hysteric giggle.
“Yes, in this sense, I am your commanding officer... You want to roam free and be useful, don’t you? It is give and take. I have seen you care for clones. You cannot help them and stir things up by turning the hierarchy over in Tipoca at the same time.” He elaborated and it drove his point home.
“I understand,” He had been cold and aloof at the calisthenics in the morning, always short and curt with the people around him. It was just his nature. He was a callous man. His life experience had made him hard, possessive, domineering and deadly efficient. At the same time, he felt warm, reliable, secure and breathed a confidence that shone to her like a beacon in the storm. She inhaled his potent male musk, healthy predatory alpha male. Her intellect was still under the weather, but on an instinctual basis, there was no contradiction.
There was need beyond the sexual in him as well, great emotional need. “Lay back,” she smiled. “I intend to honor your demand.” He had the swiftness and strength to put her on her back any time, but who else possessed the power to make him surrender this way? Since he had learned some graces, it started to arouse her to be desired so forcefully. “I will be with you while you are here and stay one with you in mind when you have to leave,” she promised.
A great ache flooded his entire being, not the ache of pain but of relief “This is what I want.” he whispered, for it was easier to whisper than to try to soften his gravelly voice. His eyes were almost gentle, but glittered with hunger. She felt her skin tingle, quake, burn under his intense scrutiny. She needed to move, absorb his lust and fulfill the desire he lit wherever he dragged his short nails over her flushed ivory skin.
His body was hard and strong, the defined edges of his hip bones pressed into her hamstrings as she rode him. Dark hair grew in a faint “T” shape between his pectoral muscles and down to his navel. Kissing him lightly on the neck, she nuzzled his throat, listened to his purr. She flicked her tongue over the pulse point to feel it jump, pinched his nipples, dark brown circles on his golden tan chest, which seemed to arch up into her touch with every shallow breath he took. She sucked a little bud between her lips, worrying it with his tongue, rubbing her thumb over the other.
A flash of heat coursed through his body. Her long hair was a cool waterfall that cascaded over his arm and shoulder. Her flat belly glistened like the sheen of velvet and looked just as soft as she came up to bury his twitching member deeper inside of her silky liquid heat. Her hips were dancing and he smoothed his palms over her hamstrings, sinking his fingers deeper, kneading the soft padding of her butt like a huge cat. He felt her squeeze him like a large fist as he pulled her buttocks apart. He owned that place but his intention was not to hold her still, just to encourage her to put her moves on him relentlessly. That it wasn’t totally his rhythm made it just more tempting and lasting.
Rubbing her clit against his pubic bone, her body tingled; she tossed her head back, her black hair crackling with electricity where it struck the bulkhead. She was so beautiful; it cut a perimeter in the ugliness that had enclosed him over so many years. He memorized every plane and crevice on her body. She was so defined; he wondered when he would notice the first soft changes due to her pregnancy. Yes, she would stay with him, even when he had to leave!
She leaned back, palming his heavy testicles, cupping them, rubbing them between her thumb and palm. Her index finger first tickled then deftly toyed with the maddening sensitive spot of skin that lay behind them. Creation, suddenly he could take no more! “Come.” She insisted under her breath. He jerked into her, trashed, collapsed. She rode the crest of a great wave that was dropping her ever closer downwards to the bottom, about to crash over her. She went down with him; the change of direction provided him with yet a new sensation. She shifted his member in just the right spot for her and let him blow up against it.
He lay on his back gasping for air and letting his mind slowly regain control of his actions once again. She straightened out her legs alongside his carefully, with a satisfied purr that made him chuckle. His little lady had submitted to his command just to pick him off in bed. Surrender had never been sweeter! Not that he would admit anything… but so far, he had called the shots whenever bedding a woman. To find himself on the receiving end, to be not the one in charge of mutual pleasure… that was a novelty.
“You should get your rest,” he whispered to her, kissing her once more on her forehead. He had found twofold relief, of sexual tension as well as a self-assumed responsibility. He was the boss, she could do him in any time. It wasn’t a contradiction. He withdrew and gently laid her down beside him. He cleaned up quickly and snuggled up to her again under the blanket, his hand skimming her abdomen.
There was nothing out of the ordinary yet to feel, but she would let him touch all he wanted. His acceptance was seeping into her like the warmth from his body. She was feeling so well, loved without question. He had half tugged her underneath him again, shielding her with his body even in this highly protected cockpit. Like Beskar’gam. Armor, different from the one her ancestors had donned for battle, or what she had worn in martial arts practice.
It was protection as well as weapon, part of the life style and interaction. Her comlink was just a poor substitute. There would be a helmet. She had lost count how many times she had asked an interlocutor to take it off. The mere request raised eyebrows – at best. Trying on Rav Bralor’s helmet had given her an idea which amount of information a Mandalorian could obtain and process with a HUD. There was much to learn… Rav’s and Isabet’s armor was different from Jangos in many ways; it seemed that every beskar’gam was one-of-a-kind.
Jangos palm on her belly rose softly with every inhale. She had opened up to him, was melting against him. She didn’t feel the need for isolation by a ‘proper layer of beskar’. She felt like her body expanded and it would for real in the next nine months. And then? How much it would change her… she could not tell. She placed her palm on his hand. “Jango? …how long will it take to make such armor?” – “Several months, probably. It will be custom made according to tonight’s measurements” – “I wonder… will this still fit as I gain weight?”
That inspired Jango to do a new acquisition of her body, making clear that he wasn’t appalled by the thought of more feminine curves on her to grope. “It’s adjustable,” he sifted through his memory. As a front line commander, it hadn’t been his issue beyond deployment schedules. The first months were kept private within the family usually; afterwards, pregnant women would withdraw strategically from the front line and retire to their homesteads. There, they would still wear armor and be capable defenders. “…and there are enlarged belly plates for the later months. The armor maker will give you advice. Ask Rav Bralor for firsthand experience.”
“I will. She has always been very helpful.” – “Good. Don’t worry Cyar’ika, it takes some time, but I will provide all you need. First thing are boots and the helmet to start installations.” He brushed the hair from the nape of her neck to nuzzle that soft spot. “Which color would you choose for your armor?”
Tomoe didn’t have to think for long. Her favorite for work clothing had always been indigo-dyed. It was alive and… as Jango put it ‘reliable.’ “I like blue. Especially the dark shade of tempered iron - Tetsu Kon.”
“So do I.” Jango purred as his imagination drew him a picture, “You’ll look sharp.” Her armor would be color-coordinated with his own gear. Again he felt they had made a progress. Tempered steel, indeed. She had listened closely, but there was still so much more to learn. “Use Arca’s hand-to-hand practice hours to continue your self-studies. I’ll inform Kal in the morning. Now sleep, cyar’ika… meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni.” She didn't even tense when he shifted again to lie half on top of her with a heavy thigh slung over her hips, just sleepily nuzzled her face against his chest.
New language, new script, storytelling, Boba’s curriculum and fencing lessons, physiotherapy… he had loaded her plate. Kal had informed him that she had poked her nose into the ordnance-section of the RC training program. In hindsight, he did not mind.
Above her head, a crooked smile came on his face. Some folks had expected him to court martial the girl upon return. No, he wasn’t growing soft. Her daily workload had doubled compared to slavery. That he got to fuck her twice as often -and infinitely better- at night was just the icing on the cake.
Yay for efficiency!
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Offshore Job

Chapter 1.8 – Jango pays Tomoe a nightly visit (after curfew day 26)