Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Here is my Tumblr (x) if you are interested.

He’d put his husband in the ground only a few days prior.

The dirt hadn’t even had time to settle, the back of his throat hadn't even stopped burning at the mention of the man's name.

Jango hadn’t even decided to resume his normal duties.

If the Stewjoni had done even the smallest amount of research they would have known that after the spouse of the Mand’alor dies there is a mourning period of at least thirty days. In that time the whole empire would be at reduced duties to allow time for everyone to say goodbye.

Myles had been a Mandalorian, through and through, and everyone felt the death as if it had been one of their closest companions.

Jango had never actually seen a mourning ceremony since his father had never married.

He supposed there was a first time for everything.

He’d gotten a week to try and put his pieces back together and now- now there was this.

Three kriffing days after his husband had been buried .

How did he even begin to unpack all of it?

“I’m sorry,” Jango said tightly, “I must have misheard you. Who did you say you were?”

The man in question, a soft-spoken redhead, shifted uncomfortably as if he’d known that he’d drawn Jango’s ire.

“As per Stewjonian tradition a replacement for your gŕeka gwniwátkoe must be sent within a week of their death,” he said quietly, “I’ve been selected to take his place.”

“Take his place?” Jango asked, gritting his teeth as he stood up, “And tell me how are you planning on doing that? They’d really insult me by sending you as a replacement for my late riduur?”

The anger started to lick at his skin and he half wanted to make the trip to Stewjon and let them know what he thought of their replacement.

The man shrank in on himself even more and Jango knew he should have felt bad but he couldn’t feel anything but an acidic heat in his chest, the anger burning in his veins and making his bones ache.

They wouldn’t actually been serious. Someone had to be playing a cruel joke.

“No I’m not trying to replace him,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “But I assure you that-.”

“I don’t want to hear what you’ve got to say!” Jango snapped angrily at him, “I want you gone! Get the hell out of my throne room and get your stupid kriffing ass off of my planet!”

The man trembled, swallowing before he opened his mouth again, “I can’t.”

“What the kark do you mean you can’t? ” Jango snarled at him.

“I’ve been chosen to replace your riduur as per the Stewj-,” the man started to say again.

“What aren’t you understanding?” Jango yelled at him, stepping closer even as the man scrambled back nervously, “I said I don’t want you here.”

“I can’t go back,” the man whispered, “Per our traditions, I’m no longer allowed to step foot on Stewjon. Should I go back I will be forced to leave again. I’ve got no home anymore if I’m not able to stay by the Mand’alor’s side. If I’m rejected they will just keep sending people until they find one that suits the tastes you have.”

“So you're telling me I’m stuck with you?” Jango sneered, all but nose to nose with the man as he glared at him, “That they don’t want you either?”

The man looked down at his feet, “No, sir. They don’t.”

“Karking stupid- get-. Just get out of my kriffing sight!” Jango snarled, “I don’t want to see you until I’m supposed to be done mourning. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the man whispered.

“Good,” he scowled, “Then get the kark out of here.”

--

Obi-Wan looked around the rooms he’d been given.

They were nice. Nicer than he’d thought they’d be after he’d so clearly angered the man.

He sighed, setting down his bag and pulling out the framed picture and setting it next to his bed.

They almost hadn’t let him take it with him since he was supposed to belong to the Mand’alor but Obi-Wan had begged and pleaded and finally one of the women had broken, telling him that so long as the man didn’t see it, he could bring it with him.

And, well it was clear that the man wasn’t going to be coming to him anytime soon and he hoped that maybe with a piece of his late husband with him, he might be able to sleep a little better.

Already under his skin was itching and he groaned unhappily, searching in hopes that there was some kind of bath that he could use.

He found one and started the water, pulling off his robes and his tunics and pants and then finally unsticking his underwear from his skin, even as more slick gushed in its place. He put one shaky leg into the bath, barely able to stand as he slid a little too hard into the bath.

They’d done this on purpose he knew.

They must have known that the man wouldn’t be ready so soon for a new lover and yet they’d sent Obi-Wan on the brink of his heat cycle. Not that it would have mattered.

No one on Stewjon would come anywhere near him when he’d gotten home and so far he’d already had one miserably painful heat cycle.

It seemed like this would definitely be his second and he groaned, trying to let the hot water soothe the ache in his lower back and groin.

It was useless, just as it normally was since the only way to really solve the problem would be with the of a lover, which Obi-Wan was severely lacking.

Still, as the pain started to radiate out to his thighs and ass he let himself imagine that his husband was still around to hold him and soothe away the ache.

He’d barely buried his husband in the ground before they’d forced him to return to his own planet. They’d said that it was for his protection and he was sure that the Jedi had meant it but they hadn’t given him time to explain what returning would mean.

To marry Qui-Gon had meant he’d turned his back on his people, since Qui-Gon hadn’t been a man of power when they’d wed—although later he was a council member which might have saved him from their ire had it happened sooner—and to return meant to be stuck on the outskirts of their society for the rest of his life.

And then of course, word had gotten around that the Mand’alor’s gŕeka gwniwátkoe had died.

It was the talk of the planet since Stewjon promised that their potential partners would live for at least fifteen years and they’d been married scarcely a year.

It wasn’t any secret that they’d sent Myles for the sole reason of the rumors that surrounded the Mand’alor. He was known to be an ill-tempered, impatient—dangerous—man. Myles had been from a fairly poor country town and he’d been sent because they thought he might survive the harsh treatment after doing farm work for so long.

Obviously, of course, that hadn’t been the case because the man was dead and his master was beyond angry at everyone from Stewjon.

It almost seemed like he was angry at the galaxy, as if he hadn't realized that his concubine might be breakable.

Myles had been an easy person to give up to the man’s violent ways, as far as they'd been concerned on Stewjon; a man who might make it through the treatment of Mandalore that they'd hoped would last long enough for them to fulfil their obligation.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was a sacrifice.

“You’re going to have to deal with it at some point.”

He could hear in Eki’s voice that there would be no way to avoid this conversation.

She was a damn good doctor—and an even better friend—but that only meant that she wasn't going to let go the things that Jango wished she would.

“I don’t want to,” Jango growled at her, “Maybe if I just pretend that he doesn’t exist then he will go away.”

She sighed harshly, “Listen Jango. It’s not his fault that he was sent here. Punishing him for it isn’t fair.”

“I’m not punishing him,” Jango told her tightly, “I just can’t deal with him.”

“Well at the very least you could at least go see him,” she told him seriously, “You remember what it was like for My-.”

“Don’t say his name,” Jango snapped, trying to ignore the pang in his chest even as the back of his throat burned, “I- I can’t hear it yet, Eki. I can’t.”

“I’m sorry Jango,” she finally murmured, “I know that you weren’t expecting this and I know that it made things worse for you. I understand why you're upset. But he’s gone and he isn’t coming back. And you’ve got a live person waiting for you who you can help.”

“I don’t want him here,” Jango said hoarsely.

“At- At least get him started with something, ” she pleaded, “You remember how it was in the beginning. My- He needed guidance. He didn’t know what to do and I’m sure that’s how this man feels as well.”

“Fine,” Jango snapped, breathing out harshly, “I’ll go see him for a moment to explain a few necessary things but don’t expect a miracle Eki. This isn’t going to end the same way. You don’t find that kind of love twice.”

Eki’s face softened and she sighed, “I hope you’re wrong about that Jango. I really am.”

The knock on the door startled Obi-Wan and the unhappy force signature on the other side made his heart drop into his stomach.

He’d been hoping that three days later the man might be a little more amendable to Obi-Wan’s presence but it was clear that that wouldn’t be the case. He could already sense the impatience and irritation rolling off of him and it made him want to crawl back under the sheets to hide.

But he couldn’t do that.

This was his new master and Obi-Wan would have to learn to obey him.

And anyway, his bed was sticky with his dried sweat and want and desperation and he’d been unable to leave his rooms to clean anything. He’d just eaten the meals that had been left in front of his door and patiently waited for the man to call on him.

He started to panic, looking down at how he was dressed.

He looked like shit; covered in a sheen of dry sweat that made him feel sticky and remains of old make up smudged underneath his eyes like bruises and the guilt of it sat heavy in his stomach, knowing that he wasn't even able to hold the most basic of standards for his people.

He’d been biting at his nails and all of the polish was chipped off and he was dressed in a ratty old robe that had belonged to his husband and was too long and hole-ridden to be appropriate for company, his hair a stringy, oily mess of tangles that brushed his shoulders.

The knock was much louder the second time and Obi-Wan worried if there would be a third one the door would lose its hinges so he got up quickly, pulling back just so he could stick his face out.

The Mand’alor stood stiffly on the other side of the door and Obi-Wan fought the urge to shrink away at the serious look on the man’s face. Their first meeting had been less than ideal and if the man was finally stable enough to make a decision then the next words out of his mouth would decide Obi-Wan’s fate.

“Hello Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan said softly, “How can I help you?”

“Can you be useful?” the man asked him gruffly.

Obi-Wan shrunk back.

“I’m sure I can help with whatever it is you requ-,” Obi-Wan started to reply.

“No,” he spat out harshly, “Besides what they’ve sent you here for. Do you have any other abilities?”

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously, “I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Are you telling me the only thing you know how to do is spread your legs?” the man snipped back.

Obi-Wan’s face flushed dark.

When he’d been at the temple with his husband he’d done a lot in the gardens and watching over the younglings in the creche. It wasn’t something that a normal concubine would have done and it had been another reason that he’d been looked down upon on his return, a man who'd done the work of someone lower class, someone who didn't have the money to be just a pretty face.

He had all of the necessary training that a concubine would have received and it wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to pleasure his master or entertain at a party or how to raise babes from birth it was just that he hadn’t had to do it.

Qui-Gon had loved him with all of his faults, his interests in reading historical texts and learning other languages and how he’d been too embarrassed at first to voice what he wanted in bed. The man hadn’t minded that it was clumsy because they’d been in love.

He looked up at the Mand’alor, knowing that he wouldn’t ever be able to say the same and his heart ached even worse and for a moment he desperately wished he followed his husband into the afterlife.

“I used to work with children and tend to the gardens,” Obi-Wan told him softly, eyes looking down in deference.

“Good,” the Mand’alor said gruffly, “Then you can train with Silas. There are plenty of gardens within the palace that could use an extra hand. Everything here has been terraformed but you should still be able to learn enough to be of use.”

“Of course, Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan agreed immediately, shoulders slumping with relief at the knowledge that he wasn’t to be sent back to Stewjon, “I will happily help with anything that I can.”

“Someone will come and get you tomorrow at first light,” the Mand’alor said stiffly, “Be sure that you are ready. We don’t carry dead weight on this planet and you will be no different than any other Mandalorian.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan promised, “I will be ready.”

“Someone will tell you where you are allowed to go within the palace,” the Mand’alor continued, “You aren’t to go in any of the restricted areas. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed immediately, swallowing dryly.

Silas was much younger than Obi-Wan had anticipated, a dark-haired human with green eyes.

He was also much calmer than the Mand’alor but even he seemed to have a wariness about him—like he to wanted nothing to do with Obi-Wan—and it made something sink in Obi-Wan's chest, to know that there wasn't a single person on Mandalore who was anything less than displeased with him.

“Is that how you are planning on working?” Silas raised an eyebrow at him and Obi-Wan’s face flushed.

He’d been brought to Mandalore as a concubine and as such he’d been given the clothing that he was expected to wear and a stipend for new pieces for the first few months that he and his master were to get to know each other.

Of course, Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to be here for gardening and the only clothing he had was meant to entice his new lover—and Obi-Wan had scarcely been out of his room, never mind down to the markets where he'd have been able to find more suitable clothing for the work that was expected of him.

“I’m afraid this is the most covered-up thing they’ve sent me with,” Obi-Wan explained softly, “The Stewjoni government sent me- well let’s just say they weren’t worried about the practicality of my clothing.”

“You’ll get burned to a crisp in that,” Silas said, nodding to his bare shoulders, “I think we may have to find you something more suitable unless you fancy a particularly bad sunburn.”

“I’d prefer to avoid it,” Obi-Wan agreed.

The man sighed, “Alright we will stop and talk to Shearre- she is the seamstress here in the palace. She might have something that will allow you more cover while maintaining your clothing preference.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, bowing his head gratefully.

Jango didn’t see Obi-Wan for another few days and he probably would have attempted to ignore him forever if he hadn’t gotten the call from Stewjon.

“We’ve noticed that you haven’t sent for anyone to be present at the ceremony,” One of the officials told him and he gritted his teeth at her words, “Even though the ceremony will work a little differently it is still a tradition for one of us to be present.”

“You want me to go through the jdihku dnì again?” Jango asked tightly, “The first time was bad enough. I don't think it needs a repeat.”

“Is Obi-Wan not to your liking?” one of the women asked, “He was always a bit of a free soul but we could replace him with someone different if you’d li-.”

"Don't talk about him like that!" Jango snapped angrily at her, unable to get the memory of Obi-Wan's fear of being sent back out of his head, gritting his teeth at her tone,“Mandalore is still in a mourning period and will remain as such for another two weeks. We cannot have any ceremonies during that time.”

“It will take the official at least two weeks to make it to you anyway,” another woman said, “And since the ceremony will be slightly different it will be prudent that you wait until the official can explain some things before it happens regardless. That should give you plenty of time to finish your required mourning period.”

“Fine,” Jango replied tightly, “But give me at least three weeks. I don’t want this ceremony to happen the day after the mourning has finished. I will talk to Obi-Wan about it.”

 Which was how Jango ended up frozen, watching the man digging away in the gardens.

The sight made his chest seize in his chest.

His husband had been much the same, wearing the traditional clothing of his people until Jango had finally convinced him of something that was more practical in the place he would be living.

It didn’t help that the skirt the man was wearing was short and it rode up, revealing the line of the thong that the man was wearing, round ass visible when one was far enough away.

The men standing a few feet from him leaned up against their shovels were clearly able to figure the same thing out, muttering to each other about what they’d like to do to him.

“Hey do you think you could spread your legs a little wider?” one of the men yelled at him, “And arch your back a little more! You’ve got at least three more rows of seeds so you might as well give us a show!”

He watched as the man closed his legs a little, clearly trying to keep himself as covered as he could.

One of the men stepped forward, grabbing Obi-Wan by the thighs and shoving them apart, leaning along the line of Obi-Wan’s back, “That’s not what I told you to do. This is why the Mand’alor doesn’t want you. You don’t know how to listen to directions.”

Jango shot forward at the words, grabbing the man and shoving him against one of the clay planters- nearly shattering it from the force- anger boiling in his veins as he took in the sight of the terrified worker.

He wasn’t from Mandalore itself, that much was clear -since he would have been dead had he talked like that to anyone on the planet- but he must have been from the Empire somewhere to have gotten the job.

“What the kriff do you think you are doing to my geriduur?” Jango snarled at him, hand tightening around the man’s neck as his eyes widened even further, fingers scrabbling against Jango's knuckles as his breath cut off.

“I thought he wasn’t-,” the man started to choke out but Jango pressed against his throat tighter until no noise could escape it but a pitiful gasp.

“Let me make something very clear,” Jango snapped, “If anyone touches him- if anyone so much as looks at him the wrong way they will be answering to me. Are we clear?”

He looked over to the group of me who nodded quickly before looking back at the man in his grip.

“You won’t be so lucky,” Jango warned him darkly, “You will be sent back to your planet to be tried for the assault of the riduur of the Mand’alor. If I decide that your sentence isn’t harsh enough I’ll be sure to make a visit and I will be sure to let them know.”

He let go of the man who sunk to the ground as he sucked in heaving breaths and stabbed at his comm, “Kal come in. Kal come in.”

“What’s up, 'alor?” Kal’s voice sounded from the other end of the line.

“I need you to come collect someone,” Jango growled into it, taking the cuffs on his belt and slapping them on the man, “He’s in the east gardens in cuffs. I need to leave.”

“I’ll grab ‘im,” Kal promised, “Just give me a minute and I’ll be right over.”

“Lock him up,” Jango instructed, “No one in or out. He’s got to be deported back to his planet and I need to talk to the officials there first.”

Kal whistled, “Alright, you got it. I’d hate to be that stupid motherkriffer right now.”

Jango stabbed his comm, turning around and stomping over to where Obi-Wan was looking at the scene with wide, wet blue-green eyes.

Jango realized he was trembling as he got closer and tried to take a breath to calm down. The boy had just been assaulted and he didn’t need Jango’s ire on top of it. He was supposed to have been safe here in the palace and Jango had managed to fail at that simple task.

“Come on,” Jango told him roughly, sighing harshly when the man didn’t move from where he was on his hands and knees in front of Jango.

He bent down, easily able to scoop the younger man up, and the boy wrapped his arms around his neck, tucking his face into Jango’s shoulder. Jango placed a hand on the back of the boy’s neck as he carried him towards his rooms.

Once he had the boy sat on his bed, he started digging around. His heart clenched when he managed to pull out a pair of pants that had belonged to Myles but he gritted his teeth, turning around and offering them to the boy anyway.

“Here put these on,” he instructed and Obi-Wan scrambled to obey him, pulling down the skirt without hesitation so that Jango could take in the sight of his strong but lithe thighs, all creamy white skin with just a little hint of freckles about them.

He fought against the stab of arousal in his gut and the sudden stab of anger as he realized that the boy had bruises against the meat of his thighs, allowing Obi-Wan to pull them on fully before the boy looked up to make eye contact with him again, eyes immediately dropping back down.

“How long has he been bothering you?” Jango asked tightly, “And where is Silas?”

“Silas allowed me to take over the planting in the east gardens. He said that I didn’t need as much instruction as he thought I would and to comm him if there were any problems,” Obi-Wan explained softly.

“And do you not think someone grabbing you counts as a problem?” Jango questioned, “You’ve got bruises a day old at least. How many times has someone tried to touch you?”

“It’s not anything that I couldn’t handle,” Obi-Wan said softly, “And you needn’t worry about them touching anything that they shouldn’t. They wouldn’t be able to get to it.”

That made Jango freeze in place, “What do you mean they can’t get to it?”

Obi-Wan blinked up innocently at him, “I’ve been shut in accordance with Stewjoni standards.”

Jango thought he might be sick.

He remembered, if he thought back far enough, how Myles had been ‘shut’ when he’d arrived but he’d been so stuck in his own misery—so busy turning Myles's smile over in his head over and over again like some kind of slideshow meant to do nothing but rip his heart from his chest, he’d never even thought about how the same must have been done to Obi-Wan.

“Kriff,” Jango cursed, “Take- take off your pants and underwear and just- just give me a minute. Do you have the key for the cage?”

Obi-Wan nodded silently, already starting to pull the pants back off and then the underwear, spreading his thighs so that Jango could sit in between them.

The key was exactly where it should be, he knew but something about the situation has him hesitating. He all of a sudden doesn’t want to touch the man.

He looked up, “Will you grab the key for me?”

Obi-Wan bites his lip before shaking his head.

“Would you rather grab the key or continue being shut?” Jango tried again, voice sterner.

The man shuffled, clearly uncomfortable but then he just started to reach for the pair of pants again and Jango stopped him with a hand to his thigh.

Jango grabbed the underwear from the floor, ducking his fingers into the extra fabric to pull the key out.

Jango knew that, remembered the horror that had filled his chest when Myles had quietly explained things to him—he remembered fumbling around in the panties for the key in front of his people, his disdain for the Stewjoni burning hot in his chest as he fought against the urge to completely cover his riduur’s body to hide the obviously embarrassed man from Jango’s people.

Had Jango remembered he would have given the boy relief right away, instead of waiting so long.

He gently removed the cage and then spread the boy’s thighs wider, “Do you have the glue remover to get this off?”

He knocked fingers against the piece of metal tucked up against his sex and the man nodded, tucking fingers into his shirt to pull out a small tube. Jango accepted it and opened it, taking the liquid and running it along the edges of the metal piece until he could pull it loose from where it was placed between his lips.

The man moaned a little as the cool air hit his spread vagina, cock already half-hard.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t take care of this earlier,” Jango said, ignoring how his cock twitched against his pants at the sight of the beautiful, eager man in his bed even with the memory of his husband keeping him from getting hard, “But you won’t have to put it back on. You are free to walk around like this from now on.”

The boy was panting lightly and he spread his thighs wider, gaze going to the fingers that Jango had resting on his inner thigh.

It had been like this for Myles too.

The relief of finally being able to feel arousal had caused his husband to pull Jango into bed constantly for the first few weeks of their marriage.

It was clear Obi-Wan would have the same issue, as Jango looked down to where he was already damp with wet.

Except he couldn’t.

Not while his late husband was still fresh in his mind.

“I think you should go back to your rooms,” Jango told him, “I’ll walk you there. I’m going to talk to Silas about having someone with you while you are out. I think that it might be better for you to wear something that is easier to work in but I understand that it might not line up with your customs.”

“I might like to wear something different when I’m doing work in the gardens,” Obi-Wan agreed, nearly immediately and Jango internally winced. It was something that he should have brought up sooner.

“Okay then we will get you set up with the seamstress for a few pieces,” Jango promised, “We usually have very plain clothing but I know that if you are from Stewjon it’s common for it to be a little showier so I could ask-.”

“Plain clothing is more than enough,” Obi-Wan interrupted softly, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he pulled his clothes back on, “I- I was away from Stewjon for a very long time and most of the clothing I wore was practical. I would appreciate the simplicity, honestly.”

“Okay,” Jango nodded, “then that is what we will do. Let me get you back to your rooms.”

Chapter Text

This is my Tumblr (x) if anyone is interested.

“I think you should talk to him.”

Jango looked over where Eki was nudging him and huffed, “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be doing this ceremony.”

“He’s nervous,” Eki insisted, “Really nervous, Jango. I think something might be wrong but he isn't going to discuss it with anyone but you.”

“I think he will be just fine,” Jango gritted out, “I’ve got to figure out what to do about all of this first.”

He gestured to the weird kit that they had given to him and the instruction booklet that had come with it. The new ceremony seemed even more invasive than the original ceremony had been and Jango would have already told them to go kriff themselves if he hadn’t been trying to play nice.

It was easier to just do it than it was to argue with them and he’d already done it once. It seemed stupid to fight about it again.

“I know that you are struggling right now,” Eki sighed, “But he is struggling as well. He’s been taken away from his home and his people only to be stuck here with no one to talk to and no one to watch out for him.”

“I am watching out for him,” Jango snapped back, “I wouldn’t be going through this stupid ceremony if I wasn’t watching out for him. He didn’t want to go back and so this is what we have to do. It doesn’t matter if he’s nervous.”

“For the love of—just go talk to him,” Eki insisted, “It’s not a matter of what you are doing for him! He needs someone and for some reason, he’s stuck with your dumbass.”

“Fine,” Jango snarled, “I’ll be back.”

He slammed the door to his rooms shut, angrily making his way towards the rooms where his future husband was and gritting his teeth as he shoved the door open, smacking it loudly behind him and then looking up-.

Only to freeze when he saw Obi-Wan sat on the bed, in similar but different clothing than Myles had been the day they wed, bent over and curled in on himself.

The man looked up at him in fear, shrinking back, even as he wiped hastily at his eyes and Jango's throat went dry as he realized the man had been crying.

“Wh-What happened?”

All of the anger that had been in Jango’s chest had extinguished at the sight of the man crying on his bed, shaking.

He hated it when Eki was right.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, forcing his voice softer as he stepped towards the man, “What’s wrong?”

He walked over slowly, trying to keep from scaring the man.

He finally sat down on the bed, swallowing thickly, “I- I know that we may not be—that you may not feel completely comfortable confiding in me but I am—I don’t want you being here to- you don't have to be scared.”

“It’s- It’s nothing Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan murmured, sniffing a little, “I’m just a little bit nervous. I’ve heard that it’s only a little painful but-.”

“What’s only a little painful?” Jango cut him off, “Nothing should be painful. Maybe- maybe a bit awkward but I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan assured him, “I know that. I'm not saying that you will make it any worse but-.”

“What is going to be painful?” Jango asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as the front of his head started to ache, “I- It wasn’t painful the first time around.”

His stomach turned at the idea of going through with something that would cause the man this much distress, no matter how necessary the boy’s planet thought it was.

Then again, it could have been that just like his riduur, Obi-Wan had some notion that sex itself was supposed to be unpleasant.

He remembered the look of surprise on his husband’s face the first time he’d taken him and something ached in his chest at the memory. He’d do anything to see his face looking up at him again, his face warm as he'd smiled at Jango, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he'd reached for his face.

Obi-Wan swallowed, “That’s because Myles was a virgin so it was the traditional ceremony. This one...because even though I’m not a virgin I still need to bleed, will be a bit more uncomfortable.”

“What does that mean?” Jango asked seriously, “If you don’t bleed, then you don’t bleed.”

“It’s the sheath that they asked you to wear,” Obi-Wan explained softly, “It has ridges that are just sharp enough to cause shallow cuts. That way I will bleed. I will be sore for a few days but it’s not a very deep-.”

“Wha-What?” Jango asked, something cold filling his chest, “What do you mean it’s going to cut you?”

“It will be okay,” Obi-Wan tried to assure him, even though his bottom lip wobbled, “It will only leave me sore and honestly it shouldn’t-.”

“I’m not cutting you!” Jango snapped, “I don’t care what your tradition dictates I'm not doing that!"

“If there isn’t any blood then the tradition isn’t complete,” Obi-Wan told him, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, “I- We’ll have to do it again but they won’t use the sheath. It will be a lot more painful if they decide to have you kark me after ensuring that I’m dry.”

Jango put his head in his hands, scrubbing his face as he let out a harsh sigh.

“There’s got to be something we can do to get around it,” Jango finally said, “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“There’s nothing you can do but try to be gentle,” Obi-Wan told him softly, “Once you- you finish they will check, and then it will be over. Then if you wouldn’t mind helping me procure some bacta it-.”

“Don’t say that it will be fine,” Jango told him sternly, “Just- just give me a minute okay? I’ll get it figured out.”

Obi-Wan nodded, shifting on the bed until his legs were drawn up against his chest, wrapping his hands around them and then leaning his head on his knees.

Jango sighed, walking back out of the room, feeling the tension headache starting in his temples.

“I don’t think you are listening to me,” Jango snapped at the elderly lady.

She was ancient.

Jango thought that she was probably too senile to have been given any say in anything and he was tired of arguing with her.

“He needs to bleed,” she told him with a frown, “I’ve given you your options and I’m not sure what else you want.”

“Your options are to cut him with a sheath, kark him dry and rip him, or take a knife to his body,” Jango snarled at her, “Those aren’t options, those are cruel. I’m not doing any of it so I suggest you figure something out.”

“If you won’t complete the ceremony then you won’t receive another gŕeka gwniwátkoe should something happen to this one,” she threatened him as if it were a threat at all.

“I don’t want another one after this one,” Jango snipped at her.

He hadn’t even wanted this replacement. Why should he care if Obi-Wan was the last one they would send? Obi-Wan wasn’t-.

He wasn’t his late riduur. Nothing could replace Myles and besides what were the chances of Obi-Wan having the same, rare disease that had killed his riduur almost overnight?

“You are trying to change a millennia-long tradition,” she scowled, “It’s not that easy.”

“I don’t give a kriff about your stupid traditions!” Jango snarled, “Just tell me how to get around it!”

“I’m not sure,” she told him tightly, “We’ve never done it that way. The tradition states there must be blood on the altar sheets.”

Jango gritted his teeth, sighing harshly.

“That’s what it says exactly?” Jango asked, “There must be blood on the sheets?”

“Yes,” she replied, “That’s what it said.”

“Fine,” Jango said, “I’ll handle it.”

Obi-Wan was trembling when the Mand'alor approached him following their wedding vows and it took everything to keep from gritting his teeth. Despite the Mand'alor's promise that he'd have a plan they'd both known that he hadn't been sure what he was trying to do and Obi-Wan hadn't thought the Mand'alor would find a way around it anymore.

The Mand'alor stepped up to him, hands slipping under Obi-Wan's thighs to set him up on the altar, pulling his skirt aside so that he had access to him. He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of Obi-Wan’s ear, gently rubbing his tense thighs as he tried to calm the man down.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, “Can I- You’re dry. Can I touch you? I don’t want this to hurt.”

Obi-Wan nodded shoving his head into the Mand'alor’s chest even as he trembled.

The Mand'alor let his hands wander, rubbing up and down Obi-Wan’s thighs as he turned his head, kissing his temple and then trailing down his neck.

The Mand'alor let his hands trail to the inside of his thighs, pressing kisses behind the man’s ears as he finally relaxed a little in the man's grip.

The Mand'alor brushed against the man’s cock, letting his fingers trail down to brush against his cunt, sighing in relief as Obi-Wan relaxed against him, spreading his legs wider to allow Jango access.

He rubbed at the man’s folds, pulling back to press their lips together as he started to circle the man’s clit. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the man's neck, thighs tensing, trembling softly as the Mand'alor rubbed over the nub, paying it special attention as he dropped his right hand.

He broke the kiss and pressed a finger into the man. Obi-Wan gasped, head falling back so that the Mand'alor could nibble at his Adam’s apple as he pressed a second finger into him, using the other to rub at his clit firmly.

He continued working the boy over, switching between rubbing his clit and stroking his cock until Obi-Wan clenched around him, keening as he came around the man's fingers, cock spurting as his face turned crimson.

“It’s okay,” the Mand'alor assured him softly, “That’s what we wanted to happen. I’m going to put my cock into you, okay?”

Obi-Wan nodded, leaning back and spreading his legs wide, still trembling with nerves as the man pulled his cock out of his armour and pants and press into him.

His eyes widened in surprise when the Mand'alor pressed in, breath catching in his throat as his back arched a little.

He’d been desperate to be karked for three weeks, aching from the remnants of his heat cycle and unused to the constant pressure of clothes and cool air against his sensitive spots.

The man karked into Obi-Wan slowly, one hand going to the man’s lower back and one hand ducking into the side of his armour.

“That’s it Obi-Wan,” the Mand'alor told him, “You’re doing so well. You’ve already done what you need to so all I need to do is come and everything will be fine.”

"But the- the-," Obi-Wan murmured, eyes fluttering closed as the Mand'alor pressed inside of him once more, sending tingles down his spine.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man told him, panting, “Everything worked out just like I said it—kriff, you’re so tight—like I said it would.”

“How- Ohhhhh,” Obi-Wan bit his lip as he clenched around the Mand'alor again, coming hard, and with a few more pushes, the man was shoving inside of him hard, coming too.

Obi-Wan looked down as the man discreetly wrapped his bleeding fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

The Mand'alor just stepped back, letting the officiant step in between them.

Her jaw was tight and her face sour as she looked at the sheets—like she knew that the Mand'alor  must have done something to skirt the rules—but she declared the blood was there as needed and then the man stepped forward again, helping Obi-Wan to adjust his skirt and clothes so that he wasn't exposed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Obi-Wan whispered softly to him as the man's mouth brushed his ear, fingers focused on relooping the clasps around the buttons on the back of Obi-Wan's shirt, “It wouldn’t have killed me to bleed a little.”

“I don’t care,” the Mand'alor said firmly, “I told you that you wouldn’t be in pain and I meant it.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, letting the man's words and warmth seeped into him as the man helped him to get dressed again.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan thanked him softly.

“Of course,” the Mand'alor said, though his voice was a little tight.

Obi-Wan had expected the man to be horrible to him.

If he were being honest, he kind of wished that that would be the case.

It would be so much easier to hate him if he was a jerk than it was to try to figure out the whiplash the man was putting him through.

It seemed like most days he hated Obi-Wan, but then he’d do something sweet and for a moment Obi-Wan would think it could work, only to be horribly disappointed when the man would pull away from him.

He’d been hoping that he might be able to break through to the man if he was well-behaved but he was nearing his second heat cycle and the ache in his gut was telling him that it would be a particularly painful one.

Obi-Wan had been planning to approach him to see if the man might be willing to just lay with him while he went through it—since any type of contact would help—but he knew the second he walked through the door that the it would be a mistake to ask.

Jango's jaw was set, his shoulders tense even as he looked back at Obi-Wan expectantly and the words that Obi-Wan had been about to say died in his throat as he realized that Jango was in a terrible mood.

So he’d walked back to his rooms, locking the door behind him with a note that he had a migraine, popped a few more of the pills that he’d asked Eki to get him—the ones that were supposed to be for migraines but also worked well to suppress his heat so that no one would know he was going through unless they caught him—and curled up into his blankets, grateful that at least this time he would be able to touch himself to relieve some of the ache.

But twenty-four hours in it didn’t matter how Obi-Wan touched himself—not how hard or soft or long or brief—because he couldn’t find relief.

He pressed his forehead harder against his pillow and spread his knees wider while desperately pushing his fingers further into himself in the hopes that it would quell the ache in his gut if he could just get them deep enough but there was still an itch inside of him that he couldn’t scratch and no matter how many times he kriffed his hands or rubbed over his clit he couldn’t get himself to orgasm.

Tears of frustration started to prick in his eyes as he crooked his fingers inside of himself, reaching around himself to push two fingers into his ass desperately as his lower back began to spasm.

It didn’t help and he collapsed against the bed as tears started to stream down his face.

It hurt so bad.

He wanted it to stop.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his husband.

Kriff, he wanted his husband.

He wanted the man who would wrap him in his arms in between rounds of kriffing him into the mattress, heavy weight pressed against his body because he knew that was the quickest way to help Obi-Wan finish when he needed to.

He wanted the man who made sure that he was drinking water so his throat didn’t ache after his cycle had finished and the man who fed him bites of meal replacement bars despite Obi-Wan’s insistence that he could go two or three days without food just fine.

He curled up into himself, pulling a blanket over him as he shivered, even though his blood felt like it was on fire and he knew that he was sweating, closing his eyes as he tried desperately to sink into meditation.

It hadn’t worked the first and only time that Qui-Gon had accidentally not been planetside when he’d been left alone to his heat—before the man had understood what it entailed—but he wasn’t sure what else to do, save for agonize over the pain.

If he was lucky it would only be another twenty-four hours and then he’d be able to drag himself to the shower to clean off and wash his sheets so that he would be able to sleep before he was forced to attend the necessary meetings at the side of the Mand’alor.

Of course, he wasn’t ever lucky.

Obi-Wan almost hadn’t made it to the meeting on time, barely slipping in before their guests arrived, suitably dressed and made up even through the dregs of the last of his cycle, standing as tall and proper as the last of his cramping would allow, hoping that his stomach wouldn’t begin making noises as he realized just how hungry he was after three days without eating.

He tried to focus on the words that were being said but his head hurt and his cramps were still painful and he was starving and it wasn’t as if the Mand’alor wanted his opinion on anything anyway. He was merely there to be a pretty little thing to look at and that meant that he could afford to let his mind wander.

“Sometimes I don’t think you have a thought behind that blank stare of yours.”

Obi-Wan turned his gaze to his master, trying to ignore the stab of hurt that spread through his chest at the man’s words. It wasn’t easy to concentrate when you were in pain but the man had said that Obi-Wan would have to work to pull his weight and he’d already been gone for nearly three days and couldn’t afford to miss this meeting.

If he had the Mand’alor finding out about his problem and he'd be even more of a burden than he already was.

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan bowed, “My head is still hurting but I will be working by this afternoon. It’s just a little hard to concentrate right now.”

“I thought that medication was supposed to be for severe migraines,” the Mand’alor told him stiffly, “How could it be you are still suffering the effects of them?”

“It doesn’t quite completely rid me of them,” Obi-Wan said as he stared at his feet, “It just helps the symptoms a bit.”

The Mand’alor sighed harshly, “You can go back to your work now. I won’t need you for the rest of the day and I know you are behind in your duties.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan told him, bowing slightly as he turned to leave the room, subtly wiping at his eyes when he finally got past the doors. He started making his way to the east gardens, hoping that no one would be there. He wasn’t sure he could handle company right now.

By the third heat cycle, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it anymore.

It seemed like they were getting progressively worse and every time he had one it took less and less time before his own hand wasn’t satisfying anymore.

His master had left on a mission of some sort, which Obi-Wan knew was code for having to go take care of a problem in a violent way.

And Obi-Wan knew from experience that violence got people’s blood rising and if he timed it right he might be able to persuade the man to help him find some relief.

So when the Mand’alor had returned, specks of maroon against the blue and silver of his armour, Obi-Wan took his chance, following behind the man in silence, gut burning and a thin sheen of sweat over his body.

“Another headache?” the Mand’alor questioned as he opened the door to his rooms looking over at Obi-Wan with a frown.

“Yes just a bit but it’s at the end,” Obi-Wan lied softly, “And since you’ve come back from your mission it is tradition to-.”

“I know what the tradition is,” Mand’alor Fett told him tightly, “But I don’t need nor want your help.”

“Please,” Obi-Wan pleaded carefully, “I promise I’m capable of tending to cuts and-.”

“If I say fine will you promise not to speak?” the Mand’alor bit out at him.

“Of course, Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan agreed softly, looking down at his shoes.

He followed the man into his refresher, checking him over to make sure that none of the cuts were severe as he ran the water for the bath, putting bacta over a few small cuts on his face and then helping him in the shower to wash all the grime and sweat from being in his armour for days on end.

The man grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm when he started to wash lower than his abs and Obi-Wan pulled back his hands, allowing the man to finish himself and then grabbed him a towel as he stood, slipping on a robe and helping him as he moved stiffly to switch over to the bath to allow the salt to ease the aches and pains from fighting.

Obi-Wan stayed by the side, sitting on the wide edge of the tub silently as he waited for the Mand’alor to exit the bath, looking down at his feet so that he didn’t have to meet the man’s serious gaze.

“You look like hell.”

“My headaches make it hard to keep up with the traditional grooming methods of my people,” Obi-Wan explained softly, “I will clean up as soon as I’ve finished here.”

“Your muscles are so tight they look like they are about to snap,” the Mand’alor told him gruffly, “I’m surprised they aren’t spasming.”

“It’s very minimal,” Obi-Wan assured him quietly, “I’m quite used to it.”

“You were sweating earlier,” the man acknowledged, “Is that because of the headaches?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan lied, “They sometimes cause cold sweats.”

The Mand’alor sighed harshly and then Obi-Wan squeaked as there was a hand on his ankle.

“Take off the robe,” he barked at him, “And come here.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him with wide eyes.

His gaze was expectant and it had been what Obi-Wan was hoping for so he slid out of the robe with shaky hands, moving until he was sat next to the Mand’alor and then squeaking when arms wrapped around him and pulled him into the water.

The hot water felt amazing on his sore back and thighs and he wasn’t sure where the Mandalorians got their salt but he would have to see if there was any way he could procure just a little because the spasming in his lower back stopped immediately.

He sat in between the man’s legs, frozen in place as if the slightest movement might cause the man to change his mind and force Obi-Wan from the soothing water.

“C’mere,” the man told him firmly but softer, pulling Obi-Wan closer and letting his hands fall to Obi-Wan’s hips, kneading lightly at them and Obi-Wan mewled happily, letting himself curl towards the man to lean against his chest as the relief hit him like a speeder bike.

The man let out a put-out noise when Obi-Wan’s head leaned against his collarbone but he allowed him to stay pressed against him as Obi-Wan melted under his strong, soothing touch.

It felt so good after two days of constant pain that Obi-Wan had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He spread his legs a little wider, hoping that the man might rub his thighs the same way, but instead, a hand brushed against his half-hard cock and along his folds as he shuttered.

“You’re a needy little thing aren’t you?” the Mand’alor grunted out, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re hard.”

Obi-Wan just moaned softly against his chest, pushing his hips more firmly against the touch in an attempt to get more friction.

“No wonder you were so insistent on your traditions,” the man said wryly.

“Please,” Obi-Wan pleaded softly, his only focus on the relief that was flushing through his body at just the simple touch, head swimming with the pleasure that was growing in his core.

It was better than he remembered, to be touched when he was so needy and he knew it was probably just from the lack of attention but he couldn’t help but wonder how he could get this all of the time, the stark relief reminding him that in only a month’s time he would be suffering again.

“Please what?” the Mand’alor asked.

“Please kriff me,” Obi-Wan asked, voice soft and desperate.

“They’ve really outdone themselves this time,” Mand’alor Fett muttered to himself and Obi-Wan tried to ignore the stab of embarrassment at clearly sarcastic remark as he sat there, going silent as his hands stopped from where they were rubbing., “Get out and dry off. If you lay on your stomach on the bed I’ll give you what you want.”

Obi-Wan scrambled to follow directions, harshly towelling himself off and crawling onto the bed, leaning on his forearms, legs spread, and back arched in what he hoped was an enticing way.

He waited there for a few moments, feeling himself grow damp between his legs until he was squirming in desperation, cunt aching and the stabs of pain returning in his lower back.

He heard the man walk through the doorway and let out a pleading noise, thighs already trembling in anticipation.

The heat in his veins has returned and all he could think of was the relief he would feel when the man was finally on top of him. He let his legs spread a little further in invitation and then the man was behind him, palming at his cunt as he checked to see if he was wet.

“You don’t even need any help do you?” the Mand’alor said gruffly, “Can you be kriffed just like this? Yes or no?”

Obi-Wan turned the thought over in his head quickly. It might cause him some soreness later if the man were to push right into him like this but what were the chances he would be willing to actually prep him rather than just kick him out of his bed without filling the ache inside of him?

“Yes,” Obi-Wan breathed and then gasped as the bed shifted and the man pressed right into him, the burn of the stretch fighting against the respite from the inner ache of his insides.

“Stay there,” the Mand’alor said, holding him by the neck and pushing down as he began to kriff into him hard and fast, the mix of pleasure in his gut and the slight pain of the friction in his cunt making him dizzy but it felt so much better to be filled that he said nothing, letting the man hold him down roughly as he railed him, the bed scraping and rocking under them from the force of the thrusts.

“Can you come like this?” the man bit out from above him, “Or do you need help?”

Obi-Wan moaned as the man pressed roughly inside of him again, lifting his head as much as the man’s grip would allow, “Want help.”

“That’s not what I asked,” the man said, punctuating the words with sharp thrusts deep inside of him.

One hand gripped his hip hard enough that Obi-Wan was sure it would bruise while the other let go of his neck and pushed down on the small of his back as the Mand’alor continued to pound into him.

“Please,” Obi-Wan pleaded in a soft stutter, “I need it.”

“Answer the question,” Mand’alor Fett told him tightly.

Obi-Wan whined, trying to think through the pleasure of the man's touch and he swallowed thickly, chest twisting uncomfortably as he made up his mind.

“No,” Obi-Wan admitted, his fingers twisting into the sheets as the man continued to kriff him relentlessly, “I can come without it.”

The man lined against his back, lips against Obi-Wan’s ear, “Well at least you are good at one thing, cyar’ika. You’ve definitely got a tight cunt. If you are going to crawl into someone’s lap like a schutta it’s nice to know you can come like one too.”

Obi-Wan’s face flamed red in embarrassment, even as his balls tightened and his orgasm crested from the constant pressure against his sensitive walls.

“That’s it,” the Mand’alor whispered into his ear, “Squeeze around my cock. You’re so pretty like this.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, his embarrassment winning out over his desperation as he finally quelled the ache that his cycle had left him with, and he couldn’t help the choking noise that escaped his mouth when the Mand’alor groaned, shoving into him and coming deep inside him.

The man pulled out of him and Obi-Wan tried to fight the urge to curl up in on himself.

When Qui-Gon had touched him it had always been with reverence and no matter how hard he’d kriffed Obi-Wan he’d never felt dirty.

But now he felt used and dirty and he realized that this was a taste of the rest of his life as the concubine of the Mand’alor for the rest of his life.

He bit his hand to stop the wail of anguish that threatened to escape his chest as he desperately wished that it was his husband who was with him.

He jerked as a warm cloth wiped between his legs, a strong but gentle hand holding him still as the Mand’alor wiped him down, cleaning the come dripping out of Obi-Wan off and then wiping down Obi-Wan’s stomach where he’d spilt over himself.

“C’mere,” the man grunted, moving him aside to wipe the damp spot under Obi-Wan, looking at him after he was done with a harsh sigh.

“You like being held?” he asked with a frown.

Obi-Wan wanted to be strong enough to lie so that he could go back to his bed and let out all the pain and embarrassment of being an actual gŕeka gwniwátkoe.

But he wasn’t.

So he nodded his head, yes, letting out an even breath in an attempt to settle his heart rate.

The Mand’alor pulled back the covers and slid in, rearranging Obi-Wan until he was tucked up against him, hands pressed to the man’s chest.

“Yeah so did my riduur,” he said softly, voice betraying his sadness.

Obi-Wan let his eyes close, soaking in the feeling of being held and the relief that it brought him as he rode out the final dregs of his heat cycle.

Chapter Text

This is my tumblr (x).

“What was Myles like?”

The question startled Eki and she stopped writing, looking up at Obi-Wan before sighing and leaning against her knees, “Why are you asking?”

“I was just wondering,” Obi-Wan said, “The Mand’alor seems like a very serious kind of person. I wondered how he-.”

He stopped sighing harshly, “Did they get along?”

Eki was quiet for a long moment, as if she were trying to think of how to word it.

“Jango loved him,” Eki finally told him softly, “More than anything. I know that the transition has been difficult for both of you but I promise that he will come around. He’s just still grieving. The Stewjoni officials didn’t give him a long enough grieving period, at least by Mandalorian standards.”

“He loved him?” Obi-Wan questioned, looking up at her through her lashes, “Like really loved him?”

“He did,” Eki agreed, “He really loved him. I don’t think- I don’t think anyone ever questioned that.”

“Can you tell me a little bit about him?” Obi-Wan asked, drawing his knees up to his chest, “Just a little?”

“Well he liked to cook,” she told him softly, “He got along well with the palace chefs and he was always quiet but he did have a mouth on him when someone set off his temper. And he looked at Jango like he hung the moon which I guess was fitting because Jango looked at him like he was his whole world. They used to spend afternoons in the library because…”

Obi-Wan cursed, shoving a lid over the pan as the oil splashed back at him, spraying his arm, the skin immediately turning pink.

“Oh come here child,” the elderly woman told him, taking him away to run it under cold water, “I’ve told you that it’s quite a process to learn. You aren’t going to pick everything up in only a few weeks.”

“I need to get this perfect,” Obi-Wan insisted, “And I’m doing well. I just- I’ll just keep practicing and it’ll be perfect before you know it.”

She gave him an exasperated look, muttering something in Mando’a.

“I understood that,” Obi-Wan snipped back mulishly, “I’ve been learning Mando’a faster than Higea has ever seen anyone learn it before.”

“Then you know that you are stressing yourself out,” she told him seriously, “You’ve been in the kitchen until morning light every single night for three weeks ad’ika. You need to sleep. You cannot keep subsisting on an hour or two every night.”

“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan insisted, “Honestly. I’m doing fine. I just- I want to learn this really bad and I think that I’m almost there.”

“Fine,” she told him, and then while holding up a wooden spoon, pointing it at Obi-Wan, “But if you keep this up and you get seriously hurt I’m calling Mand’alor Fett to collect you for bed. Surely he’s noticed your absence every night.”

“He’s a- he’s a deep sleeper,” Obi-Wan lied, chest aching, “Once he’s asleep it’s easy to slip out.”

“I seem to remember Myles always saying he was a very light sleeper,” she told him with a knowing look, “It was one of his biggest pet peeves. I don’t suppose you two are sleeping separately right now?”

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan admitted, shoulders dropping, “We just- we needed some time.”

“It’s alright ad’ika,” she told him consolingly, “Things will work out.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan lied, “It’s just a matter of time.”

Obi-Wan gasped, moaning as the Mand’alor rocked into him, the familiar burn making him wince, even as the pleasure went all the way to his toes.

“Is this really the place to ask for this?” the Mand’alor asked even as he continued to kriff Obi-Wan against the table, his skirt shoved up and his panties shoved down.

It probably wasn’t but Obi-Wan knew for a fact that he and Myles had had sex here a few times. Not to mention that the ache from his heat cycle was just beginning and he just wanted some relief before they had to sit through the next nine hours of meetings.

“You aren’t even going to have time to clean up,” the Mand’alor continued, “Are you just going to stand there with my come leaking out of you for everyone to see?”

Obi-Wan whimpered as the man rocked inside of him, desperately getting his hand in between him and the table so that he could rub his clit, legs trembling at the feeling as he moaned loudly.

“That’s it,” the man panted as he continued to pound into him, “Play with your pretty little clit while I kriff your cunt. You are so desperate for it.”

“I needed you,” Obi-Wan admitted stuttering as he finally came, cock spilling over the table as his cunt clenched around the man, body finally cooling down as he got relief. The man’s hips stuttered and he let out a groan of his own as he came in Obi-Wan, rocking his hips back and forth as he finished.

“You’re still on birth control?” the Mand’alor asked, leaning down, lips against his ear.

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Good,” he said, straightening up and pulling out, “Clench.”

Obi-Wan obeyed, staying bent over the table with his legs spread as the man walked away.

He gasped as the man pressed a plug into his pussy to keep his cum from leaking out and then stood him up straight, turning him around as he busied himself with making them both look presentable again.

Obi-Wan ached to lay down, to curl up with the man and just let his body ride out his heat but he knew that wasn’t an option, and the moment that he was more work than he was worth he would find himself thrown out on his ass.

All he needed was to be perfect for the man and the Mand’alor would keep him around.

It didn’t help the small part of him that died every time the man touched him for a rough kark and then left him aching for the soft aftercare that normally would have gone with it.

Qui-Gon wasn’t here anymore.

This was his life and he had to get used to it.

He’d made it perfectly.

It had taken nearly eight weeks to perfect but he’d finally done it and he looked up at Kinni in excitement. She smiled softly at him, “You were right. You could do it.”

“I want to show him,” Obi-Wan said, “Do you think he’ll mind if I wake him up now or should I remake it tomorrow night?”

“Myles used to wake him all the time for this,” she told him with an amused smile, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the surprise.”

Obi-Wan hurried down the hall, trying to be as quiet as he could, stopping in front of the Mand’alor’s rooms and rocking on the balls of his feet as he knocked on the door.

He heard shuffling on the other side and then the door was being ripped open, an irritated-looking man on the other side glaring at him.

“You really couldn’t wait to be kriffed until morning?” he snapped quietly at him, “You are getting out of hand.”

Obi-Wan’s face fell, “That’s- That’s not why I’m here.”

The man sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Then why are you here in the middle of the night?”

Obi-Wan thought back to his surprise in the kitchen and then looked at the angry man in front of him, shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you,” Obi-Wan told him, “It’s nothing. It can definitely wait until morning.”

“You woke me up to tell me it could wait until morning?” he asked tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized again desperately trying to keep his voice even, head down so the man wouldn’t be able to see the tears pricking in his eyes.

“What was it?” Mand’alor Fett questioned in irritation, “That couldn’t wait until morning?”

“It’s-,” Obi-Wan started to say.

“Don’t say nothing when you woke me up!” the Manda’lor snapped sharply, “What is it, Obi-Wan?”

“I made something for you,” Obi-Wan explained softly, “I- It wouldn’t keep until morning and it was the first time I’d managed to make it correctly. I just wanted- I wanted you to be able to taste it.”

A hand grasped Obi-Wan’s chin and pulled sharply so that their eyes were meeting, “Made something? What did you make that wouldn’t keep?”

“It’s a pastry that Kinni said you really enjoy,” Obi-Wan explained, “But they need to be eaten warm or they aren’t any good.”

“You were in the kitchen?” he asked tightly, “What were you doing there?”

“I- I was cooking,” Obi-Wan stammered out as the man’s grip tightened, “Kenni was teaching me.”

“Stay out of the kitchen,” he snapped, “I’ve already told you that you’ve got restricted access. And I’m sure they told you to stay out of there.”

It was true. Upon Obi-Wan’s original tour they’d told him to stay out of the kitchens, the library, the north garden, and most of the east wing. From what Obi-Wan gathered they were all places that you would have normally found the man’s old gŕeka gwniwátkoe.

He’d thought with so much time having passed that the man wouldn’t mind and Eki had agreed with him.

Clearly, they’d both been wrong.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized, “I just wanted to surp-.”

“You wanted to try to replace my riduur,” the Mand’alor snarled at him, “But you won’t ever replace him. I don’t care that they’ve sent you and I don’t care that you think you can take his place as easily as making a pastry. Stay the kark out of the places I’ve told you to keep out and get it through your stupid head that you won’t ever be to me what he was to me!”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said again, pulling back desperately to escape his hold as tears started to fall, “I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

The man growled, “Why do you have to do that? You cry and make me feel bad when you are the one who is doing things wrong! I told you to stay out of there and you come crying to me as if you didn’t already know that!”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said again, trying to wipe the tears away as they came, “I’m sorry. I’ll stay out, I promise.”

“Get- Just get out of here,” the man waved him off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You’ve done enough.”

Obi-Wan turned to run back to his rooms, refusing to stop until he was locked behind the safety of his own doors, sliding down them as he finally let himself begin to cry.

The force of his sobs made his chest ache and he curled in on himself as the grief started to overwhelm him.

He’d known that he wasn’t supposed to be there but he’d just-.

He’d hoped that maybe the Mand’alor would be able to get past that since Obi-Wan had spent so much time being perfect for him.

He’d hoped that maybe the Mand’alor might start accepting him so he didn’t have to be in so much pain all alone anymore but he should have realized.

He couldn’t ever compare to Myles and he wouldn’t ever have what he needed here.

“What did you do?”

Jango looked up as Eki slammed the door behind her, stomping into the room angrily.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied, nerves still feeling raw from the night before.

The man had come late at night, face lit up with excitement and for a moment he’d seemed so much like Myles that Jango’s heart felt like it was going to shatter into a million pieces.

He wasn’t ever going to be Myles.

Jango wasn’t ever going to find that kind of love again.

“Don’t you give me that shit!” she snapped at him, “He was a mess this morning! He wouldn’t even come out of his room and Kenni said that he’d gone to you last night to surprise you with the pastries that you like!”

“Why would you do that?” Jango bit out angrily, “Why are you so intent on writing over my riduur like he never existed?”

“That’s- For Mandalore’s sake do you have to be such a kriffing asshole?” she shouted, “He was trying to do something nice for you Jango! He wasn’t trying to replace your riduur, he wants you to accept him! He spent eight weeks figuring out how to make a damn pastry just to see you smile at him and instead, you yelled at him like a kriffing moron!”

“If it took him eight weeks then that’s proof he doesn’t actually care for cooking and he’s just trying to do what Myles did!” Jango snarled at her, “He’s trying to make himself seem better than him but it isn’t going to work! I loved Myles! Obi-Wan is a nuisance at best!”

Eki glared at him before sighing.

“He’s trying to find his place here,” Eki told him, sounding defeated, “He’s married to a man he doesn’t know and who seems to hate him. He’s trying to be happy, which is what you should be trying to do, Jango. You can’t chase a ghost for the rest of your life.”

Jango's fingers tangled up in his hair, pulling on it lightly, curling in on himself.

“I don’t want a ghost,” Jango finally whispered brokenly, “I want my husband.”

“Myle is gone,” Eki uttered in defeat, “Your husband is Obi-Wan and he’s trying his best to make things work. He didn’t have a choice either. He was sent here to marry someone he’d never met and taken away from everything he’s ever known and every time he tries to make a home here you insist on tearing him down.”

“Why does everyone insist that I just move on from my husband?” Jango bit back, “Why can’t I be left alone to grieve the death of my riduur and two ade?”

“You aren’t grieving,” Eki shook her head, “You’re avoiding. You are standing still in a world that’s still spinning. Time doesn’t wait for anyone Jango and if you spend all this time breaking him down, he'll be gone by the time you are ready to move on.”

“I’m trying my best,” Jango finally whispered.

“No you’re not,” she replied quietly, turning around until she was at the door before murmuring, “I know your best and this definitely isn’t it.”

Obi-Wan ignored the knock on the door, curling up further under the blankets.

He didn’t care anymore.

He didn’t care about learning Mando’a or learning to bake or gardening or doing any of the stupid kriffing shit that he’d been hoping would finally make his master care for him.

The man wasn’t ever going to want him and Obi-Wan was wasting energy that he didn’t actually have.

He was letting the man use him in hopes that he would finally love him and take care of him so that he didn’t have to be so alone and in pain and all he was doing was destroying what was left of him.

Who cared if the man decided he wasn’t pulling his weight and kicked Obi-Wan off of Mandalore? Would it be so bad to have no home if this was how it was going to be? At least if he was homeless and using his body on the streets it would feel like someone actually wanted him.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his husband and he wished that he’d never accepted when they decided that this was what he was going to have to do and he wished more than anything he’d never met the kriffing Mand’alor.

The next knock was harder but he refused to budge, curling tighter into himself and squeezing his eyes shut to try to meditate and find his center.

The door opened and he covered his head with his arms, balling up as heavy footsteps approached him.

“Get up Obi-Wan.”

“Leave me alone please,” Obi-Wan pleaded softly, “I just want to be left alone.”

“You know the deal,” the man said stiffly, “If you aren’t useful then-.”

“Then send me home!” Obi-Wan snapped, “It can’t be any worse than this.”

“Obi-Wan please,” Silas put a hand on his shoulder and Obi-Wan let out a sob.

“I want to go home,” Obi-Wan cried, “I want my husband. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Jango is just-,” Silas started to say.

“Not Mand’alor Fett,” Obi-Wan sobbed, “I want my husband. I want Qui-Gon back. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want him back.”

“You- You were married?” Silas seemed surprised and of course he did, since it seemed like Obi-Wan didn’t know how to please anyone, “Did they make you leave him to come here?”

“He’s dead,” Obi-Wan wailed, “He’s dead and he’s not coming back and I wish I were dead too!”

“Obi-Wan,” Silas said, voice strangled, “You don’t mean that.”

Except that Obi-Wan did.

At least if he were dead then he could finally sleep without having to worry about being in pain.

“I want to go home,” Obi-Wan cried, “Please I just want to go home. I don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry Obi-Wan but you can’t go home,” he said softly, “You are the riduur of the Mand’alor and that makes you Mandalorian. It’s sealed.”

“I hate it here,” Obi-Wan finally said, sniffing, “I hate him. I- He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Silas said, “He’s still struggling with the death of his riduur. It’s- He’s not the kind of person to take losing someone he loves easily.”

“I want to go home,” Obi-Wan pleaded again softly, “Please I want to go home.”

It was quiet, almost as if Silas didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Silas said finally, after too many beats of painful silence, “Listen. I’m going to get Eki to come in and talk to you and don’t worry about working for the rest of the week. I think you should talk to her about your late husband. It’s- that’s a lot to handle and it will help her to know that you’re dealing with it.”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan swallowed unable to keep his voice from turning bitter, “It’s not like I have a choice anyway.”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Silas agreed sadly, “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry, Obi-Wan.”

He’d had to return to his duties, he knew.

But that didn’t mean he had to return to the Mand’alor’s bed.

And it’s not as if the Mand’alor actually wanted him anyway.

And if he started doubling his dose of migraine meds and sleeping more, well then that was no one’s business but his.

Eki tried to get him to talk about his late husband but he refused, letting them sit in silence until she sighed, moving on.

“How about your Mando’a lessons? How are they going?” she asked.

“You know I’m not doing them anymore,” Obi-Wan told her lifelessly, “I don’t know why you have to pick at all my scars. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“I’m trying to help you Obi-Wan,” she told him softly, “You’ve stopped participating in anything and we are worried about you.”

“You mean you and Silas are worried,” Obi-Wan told her bitterly, “Mand’alor Fett isn’t worried at all.”

She winced, “I worry that you still refer to him as Mand’alor Fett. By now Myles was-.”

“Myles was the love of his life!” Obi-Wan snapped at her, wiping a tear from his eye as it started to fall, “I’m a nuisance at best!”

“Oh Obi-Wan you heard,” she said with a pained sadness, “Listen he didn’t really mean it. He’s just-.”

“If one more person tells me he’s just having a hard time I’m going to shoot myself in the head with a blaster,” Obi-Wan bit out, “I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about me and we will just spend the rest of our lives ignoring each other. I don’t care anymore.”

“Obi-Wan,” she said, “Are you having thoughts of- of-?”

She couldn’t finish the sentence and Obi-Wan laughed bitterly, wiping as more tears fell down his face, “No. You know I actually don't think that these are helping. I think we should stop having these sessions. I don’t- I don’t need them anymore.”

“Obi-Wan please-,” she started to say.

“No. I think I’m done,” Obi-Wan told her tiredly, “But thank you for trying to help.”

He woke up, groaning at the ache in his lower back.

He’d be painfully uncomfortable in only a few hours and he couldn’t even go back to bed.

The Mand’alor required his presence since today some foreign dignitary was coming with some negotiators to talk about the attacks that had been happening when they passed between Mandalore and Republic space.

It was stupid, since it was technically a no man’s space and therefore common for pirates to attack the ships but they kept escaping back through Mandalorian space where the Republic troops couldn’t follow and they needed to negotiate how to apprehend the criminals.

So he got up, popping more pills and then shakily injecting himself with the muscle relaxer that Eki had given him for emergencies before showering and starting the process of getting ready.

He really was nothing more than a pretty face and he supposed at the very least he should maintain it.

“Are you really not going to apologize?” Eki asked him in frustration, “He’s- He’s not doing well and you are just ignoring him!”

“I’m not ignoring him,” Jango argued, “He’s avoiding me. I tried to go to apologize to him and he ran from me!”

“Yeah because you were a total jackass when he was trying to do something nice for you!” Eki snapped, “Stop being such a pussy! You just don’t want to have to grovel. Well, I’ve got some news for you Jango Fett, your ass is going to have to do more than grovel. You’re going to be kissing ass until you die after the stunt you pulled!”

“This is stupid,” Jango argued, “He doesn’t want my apologies and he doesn’t want me. If he wants to ignore me then who am I to stop him?”

“You are so frustrating!” she groaned angrily, “You just got done telling me that you miss him and you won’t go apologize!”

“I didn’t say I missed him!” Jango snapped back, “I said it’s been weird without him around! There’s a difference!”

“Ugh you are such a prick!” she told him in agitation, “If you want to live in denial then go ahead but don’t be surprised when this all comes crashing around your feet and you’ve only got yourself to blame!”

“I’ve got time,” he insisted, “I’m just going to wait it out. He can’t stay mad forever.”

Eki crossed her arms, blowing out an irritated breath before pinching the bridge of her nose, “You know what? It’s your funeral! I’m done trying to help you when you’d rather wallow around in self-pity! Only you could have an absolutely beautiful man trying to devote himself to you and start a family and completely ignore him!”

“Whatever,” Jango told her tightly, “I’ll apologize when I apologize. There’s still time.”

“You know it’s funny,” Eki said as she started to walk out, “I’m sure that’s what you thought about Myles too.”

Jango stared wide-eyed as the door slammed shut behind her, the back of his throat burning.

Chapter Text

This is my tumblr (x) if you are interested.

Jango looked to where Obi-Wan was staring off into space, gaze a little glazed, and huffed out a breath. It was clear that the man had another migraine and there was no way apologizing would do anything now.

He waited as people started to shuffle into the throne room, his entire body tensing up when he saw the last couple of people walk in.

“Jetiise,” he snarled, “What are Jetiise doing in my court?”

“They are here to act as negotiators on our behalf,” the regally dressed woman stepped forward, “Hello, Mand’alor Fett. I am Queen Valmil of Loince and these are some of our systems advisors. We’ve come to talk to you and the Jedi are here to ensure a reasonable negotiation.”

Jango looked over to the Jetiise , two of whom had gone ashen as they looked over his shoulder and he looked back to where Obi-Wan was still completely zoned out.

“Is there a problem, Jetiise ?” he asked tightly, “I’m sure my riduur does not appreciate your stares.”

“Obi-Wan?”

The man sounded horrified and Jango blinked as he realized that the man knew Obi-Wan’s name.

“Do you know Obi-Wan?” Jango asked tightly, “I was unaware he knew any Jetiise .”

“He was the husband of my master,” the man said, although he didn’t look over at Jango, “He- Obi-Wan you look awful.”

“I’m sorry what did you just say to me?” Jango asked, growling as he went tense, watching the Jetii take a step forward, only to be stopped by someone’s hand.

“Master Skywalker, you can’t,” a Togruta murmured, “He’s no longer under our jurisdiction and Master Jinn is dead.”

That stopped Jango in his tracks. 

“Dead?” Jango asked, voice hollow, “He was married to a Jetii who died?”

The man, Skywalker, looked at him with a dark look, lips turning into a snarl, “What have you done to him? He looks awful! Is this how you treat people? No wonder the Republic wants nothing to do with you!”

“Skywalker!” the older black Jetii said sharply, although he might as well be talking to a wall for all that the man responded.

“He’s hurt! I can feel it!” he snapped at Jango, “Why is he in so much pain? What did you do?”

“What are you talking about?” Jango asked, “I haven’t done anything! He’s not in-.”

The man was already rushing ahead, quicker than Jango could track even as Jango tried to stop him, hand reaching for air when the jetii managed to skirt past him and Jango watched with wide eyes as he caught Obi-Wan seconds before he collapsed on the ground.

“Obi-Wan!” Skywalker said, sounding terrified, “Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes didn’t open but he groaned, going slack in the man’s arms, “Ani.”

Jango rushed back towards his riduur , heart in his throat as he watched the man go limp in Skywalker’s arms.

“Get away from him!” the man yelled and Jango grunted as he hit an invisible wall, unable to get any further as he looked at his unconscious riduur .

“You can’t keep me from my riduur!” Jango snapped angrily at him as terror seized his chest.

This couldn’t be happening. Not to Obi-Wan too. Not when Jango hadn’t gotten the chance to apologize or to actually get to know him or grovel at his feet long enough to-.

“Get back!” Skywalker snapped, curling Obi-Wan further into his arms and then to the man, “Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, what’s wrong? Please, just tell me what hurts.”

Jango watched as Eki came running, bypassing Jango as Jango stood, still rooted to the ground in terror, as Eki knelt down beside the man, “I need to get through. He’s my patient. Something must have happened with his migraines.”

“What migraines?” Anakin snarled at her angrily, “He doesn’t get migraines! Not since Master Jinn taught him to shield!”

“That’s not possible,” Jango said stammered, “He’s been-. He’s been taking medication for migraines this entire time! He said that they get bad. He’s laid out in bed at least once a-.”

Jango stopped, panic seizing his chest.

Obi-Wan was from Stewjon.

Every month for a few days Myles would go through a heat cycle that he’d need Jango to help him through. He said that from his first bleed it would happen barring a pregnancy.

Obi-Wan wasn’t pregnant.

But he’d- he’d never even mentioned it and somehow it had slipped Jango’s mind.

He had to- he tried to think.

Was there a way to suppress it?

He thought Myles had told him that there wasn’t, only a way to appear like there weren’t any symptoms-.

Jango's heart felt as though it stopped.

The migraine medication.

The way the man had spasmed in his lap the night he’d returned from his hunt and curled into his lap to beg for attention.

But- Myles had always made it seem like the pain would be unbearable.

Jango had been gone for a day when the man cycle had started and he’d been in tears when Jango returned, desperately pushing into his arms for attention.

Had- Had Obi-Wan been suppressing it and dealing with the pain this long?

He thought he might be sick.

“It’s his cycle,” Jango choked out, “He’s in his cycle. Eki you need to get him hooked up to fluids now. He’s going to need a painkiller. A heavy one. He passed out from the pain.”

Skywalker’s head shot up, “You made him stand here during his heat cycle? What kind of kriffing dickhead are you?”

“His- he-,” Eki looked back at him with a guilty look as she realized what he was saying, “I never even-.”

“I know,” Jango said tightly, “Get him hooked up to the pain meds and fluids now. I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not leaving him!” Skywalker snapped, starting to tremble, “You hurt him. He’s hurt and it’s all your fault. He should have stayed with us. I begged them to let him stay!”

He turned to the older man, teeth grit tightly even as he pulled Obi-Wan tighter against him.

“He needed to go home to his people,” the black man murmured, “It’s what’s-.”

“Does this look like what’s best for him?” Skywalker snarled at him, “He’s- He’s-.”

“He’ll be alright,” Eki promised, “I’m going to take care of him and then once he’s better you can visit but right now I need to get him to the medical hall. He’s going to be in pain until I do.”

The man looked up at her and then back down to Obi-Wan, swallowing thickly as he brushed a piece of sweaty hair out of Obi-Wan’s face, “I’ll carry him there. Please don’t make me leave him. He was- he was like a father to me.”

Jango swallowed thicky, throat dry as he tried to stop the nausea that had taken over. His head felt dizzy and the guilt sat so heavy in his stomach he thought he might be sick.

“Fine you can carry him,” she said, “But we need to go.”

She turned to Jango, “Get to the medical hall as soon as you can. We need to talk.”

Jango all but ran to the medical hall, heart in his throat as he tried to steel himself for what would happen, the memory of Obi-Wan collapsing on the floor of the throne room making the back of his throat burn even as he found his way to the medical room as soon as he could.

It hadn’t been hard to excuse himself after the spectacle, leaving with an apology to run through the halls, chest tight.

It couldn’t kill Obi-Wan, right?

Jango felt like the guilt would choke him.

He’d deserve it.

He reached the room quickly, only to be stopped by Eki keeping him out.

“Eki what are you doing?” Jango asked, trying to look over his shoulder for his riduur .

“I’m done with you ignoring me,” she snapped angrily, “So you are going to shut the kark up and listen to what I’ve got to say.”

Jango looked at her, “I get it.”

“No you don’t,” she snarled at him, a finger stabbing him in the chest, “You don’t get it. No one noticed that he was going through heat cycles without any pain management or a partner and that’s on me as much as it is you. But if you had just listened to what I was telling you none of this would have happened.”

“I know, I know, I’m going to tell him I’m sorry as soon as he-,” Jango started to say.

“I think you need to let him go home. You’ve more than proven that you’re not willing nor capable of taking care of him. Maybe if we strike a bargain they will let him return with the Jetiise who actually care for him.”

“I do care-,” Jango argued.

“You don’t,” she snapped back, “Because you let this happen. I’ve never been ashamed to have called you a friend Jango, no matter what you’ve done. But today I’m ashamed.”

Jango almost felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“So am I,” he murmured softly, shutting his eyes as his stomach roiled.

“It’s too little, too late,” Eki told him, backing up towards the medical room, “I told you that one day you would regret being too late. I just didn’t think that you’d do it twice.”

Obi-Wan woke up slowly, body heavy and when he swallowed it made his throat feel like he’d swallowed durasteel, the feeling making him wince, even before he’d opened his eyes.

Opening his eyes seemed like a lot of work, when the alternative to keep them shut for the rest of his life meant that he might finally have peace.

“I know you’re awake.”

Obi-Wan cracked an eye open to look at the too-tall man lodged into the bed beside him, head tucked against Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Aren’t you a little old to be climbing into bed with me, Ani?” Obi-Wan asked his voice hoarse, even as he ran his fingers through the man’s now shoulder-length curls.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on Stewjon?” Anakin shot back looking up at him with a fire in his eyes, “We sent you back to Stewjon to be with your family, not for you to get remarried to the biggest dickhead I’ve ever met in my life.”

“He’s-,” Obi-Wan stopped, not really sure what to tell the boy to ease his fears.

“He didn’t realize you were in your heat cycle!” Anakin shot back, “What kind of husband doesn’t even know his spouse is in heat? You were in so much pain you passed out.”

“I- I’m not a spouse Ani,” Obi-Wan finally said, voice a whisper, “Stewjon sent me here to be a gŕeka gwniwátkoe . I’m a concubine, Anakin. The Mand’alor lost his last one during childbirth and so I was sent to replace him.”

“What?” Anakin shot up off the medical med, looking at him in fury, “You’re not serious! You- You were the Negotiator for the Republic! The best of the best! And they made you a- a-?”

“It’s okay Ani,” Obi-Wan said softly, putting a hand over the man’s, “This is normal for my people.”

“That’s- Then you need to come back with us!” Anakin insisted, “If you come back with us then we- we will fix this. Master Windu already fought Master Yoda so that you could stay and now that he knows what’s going on-.”

“The only way to stay at the temple is to be married to one of the Jedi,” Obi-Wan reminded him gently, “I’m the widow of a Jedi, Ani. Qui-Gon is no longer a Jedi.”

“He is,” Anakin said, voice cracking, “He was one of the best of us. He was on the council and he loved you and when he died we just left you to the mercy of a people that had turned their back on you.”

“There’s nothing that can be done now,” Obi-Wan told him softly, face sad, “What’s done has already been done.”

“No it’s not,” Anakin said, wrapping arms around Obi-Wan and pulling him against him.

The man was just as he’d always been, skin cooler than normal because of how he was always cold but he still smelled like oil and the rosemary shampoo that Anakin and Qui-Gon had always had to share and something in his chest ached at the familiarity of it.

“I’ve got an idea,” Anakin told him seriously, “I’m going to make sure you come back home. I promise. You always took care of me. I’m not leaving you behind.”

Obi-Wan tsked at him.

Anakin had always felt so much, sometimes harder—more possessively, more selfishly—than Jedi were supposed to feel and there’d been many times after Qui-Gon had rescued him from the sands of Tatooine that the boy had crawled into their bed, seeking the safety and warmth of another person.

Qui-Gon had always said it wasn’t the Jedi way and Obi-Wan had always ignored the older man and scooped the tiny eight-year-old up, shifting him into the middle of their bed before laying back down in a way that made it clear it wasn’t up for discussion.

Of course when Anakin was knighted—and then subsequently given Ahsoka as his padawan—Obi-Wan had stood proudly with him. He’d been the one to cut Anakin’s padawan braid, hand in hand with Qui-Gon because of how much he’d worked to help Anakin adjust to life at the temple.

“Ani I’m not sure I trust the plan from the man whose first plan has always been to crash the ship and pretend it was on purpose,” Obi-Wan told him.

“But the plan always worked, didn’t it?” Anakin questioned softly, “We always won.”

“We did,” Obi-Wan agreed, “That we did.”

Jango felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin as he waited for news on Obi-Wan.

He’d been banned from entering the room since Eki was worried that it might unnecessarily stress him out and even though Jango knew he couldn’t technically be kept from the room, something stopped him.

Maybe it was Eki’s words.

She’d told him that something was wrong, given him countless opportunities to change things and actually try with Obi-Wan and he’d ignored it all in favor of wallowing in his grief and self-pity.

But Obi-Wan had been married too.

And if he’d been there long enough to have someone consider him a father then he hadn’t just been married a few months. He’d probably been married longer than Jango and Myles had. Only to be forced home and remarried in what seemed to have been a short time.

If Jango’s buir had been here he would have smacked him over the head, calling him a di’kut and telling him that he didn’t deserve Obi-Wan.

And he would have been right.

Except he couldn’t let the man go either.

He hadn’t realized until the man had stopped crawling into his bed and following at his heels but he’d started to fill some of the emptiness that had been inside of Jango.

Without him, it felt just like it had when Myles had first passed away, a huge, gaping hole in his chest that felt as if it wouldn’t ever close.

No one would ever replace Myles but at least Obi-Wan had started to help the wounds close. Obi-Wan had left Jango with that same, off-kilter fascination that Myles had when he’d first come to Mandalore.

It had made his chest ache to look at the copper-haired man and see his dead lover, to know that Obi-Wan was slowly overwriting the ghost of his late husband.

Every moment that he’d had with Obi-Wan was a reminder of the time that had been stolen from him and Myles and it’d made his heart ache to know that every moment he spent with Obi-Wan was a moment that he found himself trusting him, the sting of what he was replacing feeling less and less like a blaster bolt for every smile that Obi-Wan gave him.

And it was too little, too late.

He wondered if Myles would be ashamed of him.

Jango thought that he would.

The man had always been such a gentle man, so soft and kind and he couldn’t believe that the man wouldn’t be ashamed, knowing that Jango had been so cruel.

And to make matters worse, Obi-Wan was The Negotiator.

Everyone had heard the man’s name, even throughout the Mandalorian Empire.

The Negotiator had managed, as a non- Jetiise , to aid the Jetii in stopping a war before it had even begun by strong-arming the Trade Federation and tracking down the man who was secretly working with them to cause a fracture in their power.

And then Jango had taken the Negotatior—taken Obi-Wan—and made him nothing more than a man who couldn’t trust Jango enough to tell him that he was in pain, didn’t trust him enough to even try to ask for help.

He remembered his words to the man as he’d kriffed him into the mattress with a queasy feeling.

Jango wouldn’t have trusted himself either.

And now he had to deal with the fallout.

“Knight Skywalker you cannot be serious.”

Jango was barely able to keep a neutral expression.

He’d been expecting some backlash, maybe proof that he would take care of the man, or Skywalker asking to stay.

He hadn’t been expecting this.

“If he marries me then he can come home to the temple,” Skywalker shot back, “He’d be the spouse of a Jedi again. Clearly, Stewjon can’t be trusted to take care of him and the Mand’alor has neglected his needs.”

“Ani,” Obi-Wan said, sounding pained, “You must know that this isn’t the solution.”

“Why not?” Anakin demanded angrily, “You’ll have someone with you, someone you know you can trust, and-.”

“Anakin, Obi-Wan had raised you from the time you were an eight-year-old,” the other Jetii said, “He was married to the man that you considered a parent for over a decade.”

Which, was a surprise.

For some reason, Jango had thought the man was painfully younger than him but he was almost a full decade older than Myles had been. He was only five or so years younger than Jango himself.

“We need to do something,” Anakin bit out, “He can’t be left here at the hands of someone who considers him a concubine.”

Anger burned in Jango’s gut, face turning into a snarl.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, “He’s not- they said he was a gŕeka gwniwátkoe .”

He couldn’t believe that they were- that they’d accuse him of something like that. Like anyone on Mandalore would take a concubine when there were so few of them left.

Like he would take anything less than a husband, even if he’d been upset about Myles.

He still wouldn’t have taken Obi-Wan as a concubine.

He couldn’t have.

Something sank in Jango’s stomach as all three of the Jetii looked at him uncomfortably, the youngest fidgeting as she grabbed her arm.

“A gŕeka gwniwátkoe is a concubine,” the youngest girl—Ahsoka—murmured.

“That’s- that’s not possible,” Jango insisted, “That can’t be right because-.”

Because Myles had always considered himself a gŕeka gwniwátkoe .

But Myles hadn’t been a concubine.

He’d been Jango’s husband, his riduur .

They’d been married and in love and about to have children together.

“But Myles was my husband,” Jango finally said, voice pained, “We swore the Mandalorian vow. Me and Obi-Wan we swore an oath. We aren’t- We don’t have concubines here on Mandalore. There- There isn’t even a word for it. They don’t exist. They are an insult to-.”

He stopped, turning to Obi-Wan, “You were never-. You weren’t ever a concubine. That never-. We didn’t get off on the right foot and I- I wasn’t the best of men but you weren’t ever less than my husband, my riduur .”

“Stewjon doesn’t replace husbands,” Obi-Wan told him quietly, “Even you must have realized that.”

Jango's couldn't speak.

He couldn't breathe.

“I- He was my husband,” Jango finally said softly, “I loved him. We were getting ready to start a family. The entire planet loved him. He was never seen as a- a concubine. That’s- That’s never what he was to me or my people.”

“I was married,” Obi-Wan said, sounding defeated, “I know what it was like. This…..we weren’t married. I don’t know of anyone who would keep a spouse if they acted like that.”

The back of Jango's throat burned.

“I-I don’t have an excuse, not for what I’ve done. I was grieving but that- that doesn’t excuse my behavior, Obi-Wan,” Jango admitted, “But you weren’t ever a concubine. Maybe we weren’t close enough to be-.”

He stopped.

His husband died thinking he’d been Jango’s concubine. Had he- had he ever really loved Jango at all or had he just done what he thought was necessary to keep Jango happy? Had he even wanted children? Or had he done it to please Jango? Did he die because of Jango?

Had Myles been a casualty of what only Jango had wanted?

He couldn't have- he couldn't have died like that.

There wasn't any way Jango could have let that happen, let the man think that he'd died as little more than a means to an end when he'd been Jango's entire world.

“I loved him,” Jango whispered hoarsely, “I loved him so much and then they just replaced him and I was so angry that they thought they could just replace my riduur .”

“If you’ve married Obi-Wan then he has a right to a divorce,” Anakin finally said, “So if you really care for him you’ll let us take care of him. This isn’t what he deserves.”

“Ani,” Obi-Wan said and everyone turned to him, “This isn’t going to work. I’m not technically married according to Stewjoni standards. The jdihku dnì means that I am bound as a concubine and- my people were attempting to be kind. Or at least I suppose Gheri was.”

“How is this kind?” Anakin demanded, “You- you passed out and you were in pain and all he’s doing is making excuses and-!”

Obi-Wan put an exausted hand up and Anakin stopped.

“I think you’ve forgotten I’m a fully grown man, Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said firmly, “And I wasn’t- my people no longer thought I belonged but Gheri knew my parents. She knew how I found my husband rather than being signed as a concubine as I was supposed to be.”

“What do you-?” Anakin started to ask.

Obi-Wan sighed, “Qui-Gon found me when I was about to go through my first jdihku dnì. The man was corrupt and dangerous but he had trade that Stewjon needed and so I was given to him. He died trying to kill Qui-Gon and- and he decided to marry me and take me away so that they couldn’t try to force me to be someone else’s gŕeka gwniwátkoe . He did it so I could be happy. And I was, Ani. I was so happy.”

Obi-Wan stopped, taking a breath, eyes looking far away for a second before he cupped Anakin’s face and gave him a sad smile, “But I was happy because I was married to a man that I loved. One that took care of me and loved me. Which is why I will not be marrying you or any other Jedi.”

Anakin opened his mouth and then shut it again, “I want you to be safe and happy. Why isn’t that enough?”

“Because you’ve been in love with Padme since the day you two met,” Obi-Wan told him, “And you always had the worst poker face, dear one. You deserve to be in love and taken care of and so does she. I had my happiness. Now it’s your turn. The fight you will start with Stewjon will ensure that none of us are ever happy again.”

“Who was Gheri?” Jango asked, throat dry.

“She was a very nice woman who was on the council,” Obi-Wan murmured, not turning to Jango even as he spoke, “She married into money and didn’t agree with taking children from people who couldn’t afford taxes because she knew what it looked like. She’d heard from the quarterly report we are required to write that you were both kind and gentle. She knew my husband was the same and was hoping that with our common trauma it might be good for both of us. Clearly, she was mistaken, Mand’alor Fett.”

The dig felt more like a gouge in Jango’s chest.

“Jango,” he said softly, “My name is Jango. All this time and you never heard it?”

“I’ve heard it,” Obi-Wan countered, his voice still quiet, “I was just never given permission to use it.”

“Because my husband wouldn’t have needed permission,” Jango said softly, “It would have been a given if we’d done things properly. I thought after we-.”

I thought that after we had sex you would have called me by my first name.

Except how was he supposed to have known when Jango never deemed it necessary to tell him? When they’d never talked about anything because Jango was too busy shoving his head in his ass.

“How do I fix this?” Jango finally asked, “I- I don’t even know where to begin and if I thought I could let you leave-.”

He stopped, just the thought of Obi-Wan leaving making the back of his throat burn, his stomach twisting uncomfortably with his own lie.

“-No that’s not true. Even if you were allowed to leave I wouldn’t be happy to let you. I’ve been- lonely since you stopped spending time with me. I- I don’t think I realized just how much of the loneliness that you’d taken. Not until I’d really karked everything up and you were gone and I was too busy being prideful to ask for forgiveness.”

Jango cleared his throat.

“It was my father’s biggest flaw and it’s mine as well,” Jango admitted, “But he never let pride get in the way of doing what was right. I did. So I’m setting aside my pride to ask you how to fix this. What can I do to help you to be happy?”

“You want to fix things but-,” Obi-Wan started to say.

“Not between us,” Jango interrupted softly, “I’m not trying to fix things between us right now. I’m asking how to fix things so that you can be happy like you deserve. What can I do to help you ?”

Obi-Wan stopped, watching him wearily for a minute as he seemed to turn Jango’s words over in his head. He was quiet as he looked down, playing with the hem of his skirt and Jango thought it might be easier to just shoot him with a blaster.

Because if the man had been with the Jetiise as the Negotiator, Jango doubted that he was constantly putting on makeup and dressing up as he was. Which meant that he’d only been doing it because he thought he had to and not because he preferred it.

This man hadn’t always been on Stewjon with their customs. He’d spent over a decade away from the planet, only to be fit back into their box, like he’d never left, regardless of his preferences.

And Jango hadn’t even thought to ask.

He’d assumed the man would be like Myles, who for all his love for Mandalorian culture, had preferred Stewjon’s clothing. He’d loved Mandalore but he’d loved his home too.

But Stewjon hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s home for a long time.

And Jango hadn’t exactly made Mandalore a place to lay down his worries.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “All I know is that- I’m not happy. I’m not sure if there’s anything that will make me happy. Not that you can provide.”

Jango’s blood turned to ic and his heart stopped in his chest.

He’d been so sure that he’d have time to be forgiven that he’d never considered the man might just not want to forgive him.

“Maybe we can start small?” Jango suggested, “With something that you know you want?”

“I- I want to- I miss my friends and my life,” Obi-Wan finally said, “And my clothes.”

“If you had the choice would you want to return to the temple?” Jango asked, “To be with everyone?”

“I- Maybe,” Obi-Wan agreed, “Maybe just- just until I feel like myself again. But- I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like myself again.”

Jango looked at the man, his smeared makeup and skewed clothes like he’d known he should get ready but didn’t have the energy to keep up the facade.

Jango gritted his teeth, turning to the man—Windu—who was obviously the one in charge.

“Can- Do you accept visitors?” he asked, even though the words felt like durasteel against his throat.

The man turned to him surprised, blinking once and then, “Yes we do. We have short-term and long-term visitors often.”

“If- He needs-,” Jango stopped.

“He needs more than I can give him right now,” Jango finally admitted tightly, “More than I might ever be able to give him. Would it be against your rules for him to visit for a while? Until- I want him to feel like himself again. Like he was before I ruined it.”

“He could visit as the guest of Master Skywalker for up to six months,” the man agreed, “And then perhaps as my guest for another six months, should he need it.”

“I- I need to talk to Obi-Wan,” Jango replied, “Alone. Please.”

Anakin looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed before he huffed, starting to shuffle reluctantly. He waited until everyone had left before he looked back up at Obi-Wan, making sure that Obi-Wan was looking at him as he stepped forward to wrap his hands around the man’s hips.

Obi-Wan jerked back—out of his reach—and it made something sit even heavier in Jango’s stomach.

“I can’t make you happy right now,” Jango said, letting his hands fall lamely to his side as he looked over at Obi-Wan, “You aren’t happy right now and it’s my fault. If this is what you want- if this is what you need then say the word and I will send you on your way.”

“I- I think I- I do need the time,” Obi-Wan admitted, “Although perhaps not as long as everyone worries.”

“Then we will get you packed,” Jango said, “But-. I was serious. About making us work. If- If it wouldn’t be too much to ask perhaps we can get to know each other. In the way that we should have.”

“If I’m at the temple for more than a month then I will hit a natural heat cycle again,” Obi-Wan said, looking up at him, “I- In the presence of so many friends, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to continue to ride them out. I- They’ve become very painful.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Jango said hoarsely.

“You know I’m force sensitive right?” Obi-Wan asked with a huff, “I can tell when you are lying to me. I can feel it that the thought kills you inside.”

“Perhaps it’s time to stop worrying about me,” Jango murmured, “And time to start thinking about you and what you need. It doesn’t matter what I want here when I’m the one who broke it. I- We could have been fine if I’d just given you the chance. I have to deal with the consequences of my own actions.”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long time before stepping forward to cup Jango’s face, shaking his head slightly and then meeting his eyes, “You would finally start acting like a husband the moment I wanted to leave. You are just difficult like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Jango told him seriously, “You didn’t deserve any of this. I didn’t deserve you.”

“Maybe it would have been best if we’d both been given a bit of time,” Obi-Wan said, “But we weren’t.”

“Then maybe we take the time now?” Jango suggested, “Spend some time grieving, maybe some time getting to know each other, and then we can go from there?”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan agreed, fingers brushing against Jango’s chest, “That- That could work.”

“So you will get packed,” Jango smiled, but it felt brittle on his face, “And I will give you my personal comm so that you can call me if you need me or-. Or even if you want to talk. And then-. We’ll let time tell.”

“That sounds nice,” Obi-Wan agreed, tilting his head up and pressing their lips together.

Jango wrapped a hand around his waist and cupped the back of Obi-Wan’s neck as he deepened the kiss, trying to ignore how it felt like the kiss you’d give when you weren’t sure if you were coming back.

Obi-Wan pulled back, looking up at him again, “I’m going to pack. I will- When the Jedi leave I will go with them. I will comm you when we get there so that you know that we are safe but-. I may need a little while before I comm you just to talk.”

“That’s more than I deserve,” Jango murmured, “So I’ll take it.”

Chapter Text

This is my Tumblr (x) if you are interested.

Jango felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin, the tingling feeling in his muscles setting his teeth on edge.

It had been three weeks since he’d heard from Obi-Wan. He’d commed after a week to say that he’d arrived and that he was safe and then-.

Jango hadn’t heard from him in two weeks.

In only another week the man would be going through his heat cycle and Jango couldn’t help the way he burned with jealousy at the thought of another man with his riduur.

Except, he had to keep reminding himself that Obi-Wan wasn’t his.

He’d lost that right.

It was what he was trying to earn back.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Silas snapped at him finally, “If you don’t stop pacing I’m going to shoot myself with a blaster.”

“I’m sorry,” Jango apologized, sitting down harshly to his food, “I- I just thought that if he was going to call at any time of the day, right now would probably be best for him. I- I know that he told me it might be a while but I still- I want to hear from him.”

“Yeah well you could have had him forever if you’d just paid him a little bit of attention,” Silas muttered in irritation, “For Mandalore’s sake those disgusting-ass colonists gave him more attention and he wasn’t even following at their heels like he was yours.”

“You know we are colonists,” Jango reminded him.

“I didn’t say that they were disgusting because they were colonists,” Silas replied flatly, unimpressed, “They were disgusting because they were trying to look up his skirt to stare at his ass.”

“I took care of it,” Jango mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, I heard someone pissed themselves,” Silas snorted, “You would decide that someone belongs to you while simultaneously giving them the cold shoulder.”

“Do you and Eki have to constantly remind me I karked up?” Jango asked, stabbing a piece of meat.

“You know what I think we do,” Silas told him with a grin that showed all his teeth, making Jango tense at the unhinged look on his second’s face, “It’s the least of what you deserve. I hope he refuses to comm you until after his heat cycle so that you don’t even get to talk to him before someone spends forty-eight hours kriffing him like you could have if you’d just been a decent human being.”

Jango gritted his teeth, stabbing another piece of meat without saying anything.

There was nothing to say.

Silas was right.

It would be late on Mandalore.

He knew it would be past the time that he’d woken up Mand’alor Fett when the man had screamed at him.

But he was running out of time.

His heat cycle was only eight days away and it would take the Mand’alor as long to get there if he took a small, personal craft.

Obi-Wan wanted to be bitter and find someone else and spend his heat with them and then get on the comms with the Mand’alor with the smell of sex and another man still on his skin so that they would both know what had happened.

Except Obi-Wan had always been a one-person kind of man.

And as much as Quin had tried to touch him, Obi-Wan had shrunk back every time until the man sighed.

“I’m sorry Obi-Wan but I don’t think this is going to work,” Quin finally murmured, “I want to help but you- you just aren’t comfortable with it and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I- I just want to have relief,” Obi-Wan replied, voice small, “I don’t want to hurt all the time and- even through the pain relief there was still an ache.”

“Have you thought about maybe finding someone that you—listen from what I’ve heard the Mand’alor was a dick and if it were up to me I'd say that you should leave his ass behind and never look back and so I hate to even  say this—but do you think since you’ve already spent parts of your heats with him that you might be more comfortable?” Quin questioned.

“It was comfortable with him,” Obi-Wan said, twisting his fingers into his robes, “But he- he made me feel like a- like a slut. Like I was dirty and I didn’t deserve him. I- It hurt when he did that. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Do you think things have changed enough?” Quin asked, “Or do you still not trust him?"

Quin sighed.

"I' ll do whatever you want, Obi-Wan, no matter what you decide but if you think it could help then maybe you should try.”

“I- I’m just not sure,” Obi-Wan admitted, voice barely a whisper.

“Well, you’ve got another three days to decide.” Quin told him.

And now he was running out of time, trying to figure out if he should call his mas- his husband.

He’d never been a concubine, at least not as far as the Mand'a- as Jango had been concerned.

He pressed the numbers into the comm, letting it ring until there was a confused, sleepy man looking at him from the other side.

Obi-Wan's chest tightened.

“Obi-Wan?”

He woke up nearly right away, scrambling upright and looking at Obi-Wan with a relieved smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling and Obi-Wan felt the tightness loosen as heat stirred in his gut at the sight of the man’s toned, scarred chest.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan greeted, “I’m- I’m sorry it’s quite late where you are. Maybe I should just-.”

“No, no don’t worry about it,” Jango insisted, “I- I’ve been waiting for you to comm. I told you I would wait for you to comm me. I- This is fine.”

Obi-Wan’s chest warmed at his words, and he gave him a barely-there smile of his own.

“Uh, it’s just that-,” Obi-Wan stopped, taking a deep breath, “My heat is about to start.”

The man’s face fell and Obi-Wan watched as Jango set his shoulders, mouth a thin line as he took a breath.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I’d rather you spend it with someone else than in pain,” Jango told him seriously, “I- I’ve accepted that I need to atone for my actions but I can’t just expect you to wait for me to do so.”

“But- I don’t want to spend it with anyone else,” Obi-Wan admitted, his face flushing, “I’ve never really been able to focus on different people at the same time. I’m…more of a one-and-done kind of person.”

Jango sat up straighter, “I don’t want you to be in pain, Obi-Wan.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan assured him, “And I don’t want to be in pain either. That’s why- well I know it’s probably a bit silly, since you are busy running a whole empire and things but I was hoping you might be able to spend it with me. So that I’m not alone during it.”

“I- I’d love to,” Jango said as he processed the words, “But I’m not sure that the Jetii -.”

“I’ve talked to Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan rushed out, “He said that it would be fine, as long as you announced your presence and didn’t have too many people with you. I- I figured I should ask before I spoke to you.”

“I will- kark, I will have to leave as soon as possible,” Jango said and Obi-Wan breathed out a sigh of relief even as he watched the man moving on the other line.

“Are you planning on leaving right this minute, in the middle of the night?” Obi-Wan asked with a light laugh.

“Yes,” Jango nodded seriously, “If- I know sometimes the cycles can come a little early and I don’t- I want to be sure you won’t be in any pain. I'll be there within the week.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan agreed, “It’s- Well it’s pretty early in the morning here. I don’t suppose we could talk while you are…doing whatever it is that you have to do?”

“I- I’d love that,” Jango told him with a smile, “I’ve missed you, Obi-Wan.”

Jango looked to where Obi-Wan was fidgeting on the bed, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“You know if you’ve changed your mind I won’t-,” Jango started to say.

“I haven’t,” Obi-Wan interrupted, “I just- Last time I was- well I was a little more- well prepared.”

“And what does that mean?” Jango asked, sitting on the edge of the bed but leaving room between them, “You have to talk to me if you’d like me to help.”

“You’re one to talk,” Obi-Wan muttered as his face went pink and Jango winced.

“I deserve that,” he said.

“I just- I haven’t shaved anything,” Obi-Wan mumbled, “Or you know, usually I’d have put something interesting on but I don’t have any of those things here. I left them on Mandalore. I- I didn’t think I’d need them and now-.”

“You don’t need them,” Jango promised, “I never cared much for that kind of thing. You’re beautiful and the make-up and clothing and- and even the shaving wasn’t what made you beautiful. You don’t need any of it.”

“But it just looks bad,” Obi-Wan said, shoulders slumping.

“Can- Can I see?” Jango asked, “Can I see you and then you can let me decide that?”

Obi-Wan bit his lip but began to pull at his clothing until the only thing left was a pair of underwear—ones that covered much more than Jango was used to the man wearing.

Obi-Wan looked up at him nervously.

“It’s okay mesh’la ,” Jango said softly, “Let me see you.”

Obi-Wan pulled them off, eyes aimed down.

Jango took Obi-Wan’s chin in his hand and tilted it up, letting his eyes roam over the man.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember, mesh’la ,” Jango murmured, “Can I- Can I touch you?”

“Please,” Obi-Wan pleaded, legs falling open so that Jango could see his cock nestled in sparse, copper pubic hair and his pretty lips covered in the same, soft-looking fuzz.

Jango let a hand brush up against the boy’s cunt, drawing a moan out of Obi-Wan and he looked up to see the blush over his face and chest, the heat already starting to take effect.

Jango leaned the boy back against the pillows, pushing his legs apart further, looking Obi-Wan in the eyes as he wrapped a hand around his cock, lowering himself down as he stroked it once, drawing a moan out of the man.

“Wh- What are you- oh!” Obi-Wan groaned as Jango wrapped his lips around his cock, sucking on the head while Obi-Wan squirmed in his grip. He dug his tongue into the slit, tasting the salty, bitter taste of Obi-Wan’s precome and then started to take more, covering his teeth and taking a steadying breath.

It had been a while since he’d given anyone a blowjob but Obi-Wan’s thighs trembled as he looked at Jango, face a dark red. Jango bobbed his head a few times until Obi-Wan was fully hard in his mouth and then popped off, running his fingers through the coarse but somehow still soft pubic hair covering his pussy lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, cyar’ika ,” Jango told him seriously, “You looked beautiful.”

Jango parted the man’s lips, bending down to lick along the seam of his cunt.

Obi-Wan moaned, tensing as he did and Jango pressed his mouth more firmly into to lick at his folds, tongue digging in against the man’s clit and messily eating him out until he was a panting, soaked mess. He pressed two fingers into his lover’s cunt, crooking them and kriffing him with them. Obi-Wan accepted them easily and then he was sucking messily on Obi-Wan’s clit as Obi-Wan writhed underneath him, hips pressing up into the pressure as he shuttered, cunt quivering with his orgasm.

Jango pulled back, crawling back up to press their lips together, hands running up and down Obi-Wan’s sides as he led him through a soft, gentle kiss.

When he pulled back Obi-Wan’s eyes were glazed, half-lidded with desire.

“I want you inside of me,” Obi-Wan admitted quietly, “Will you kark me?”

Jango pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss, “No. If we are doing this we’ll be making love. No more rough sex that makes you feel dirty, mesh’la . You deserve more than that. I should have given you more than that.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, pressing their lips together as he reached down, snaking his hand into the man’s pants to stroke his cock, thumbing at the precome beading at the tip to help glide the way.

“Will you put your cock in me?” Obi-Wan murmured into the man’s lips, “Please?”

Jango groaned, hands already pulling at the band of his pants as he started to kiss Obi-Wan’s neck at the same time, clumsily ridding himself of his clothes and then gripping Obi-Wan’s hips and laying Obi-Wan fully back into the pillows so that he was over him, in between his thighs.

“Anything you want,” Jango promised.

Jango gripped his cock shakily, lining up, and popping the head inside of Obi-Wan gently, panting softly as he let Obi-Wan adjust.

Obi-Wan groaned, eyes closing, hands clinging to Jango’s shoulders.

“Tell me something cyar’ika?” Jango murmured into his ear as he started to move, slow and shallow as he let Obi-Wan get used to the feeling, “How do you normally like it?”

Obi-Wan squirmed under him, saying nothing even as Jango bottomed out inside of him.

“Tell me, mesh’la,” Jango asked softly, kissing him quickly, “Tell me how you need it and I’ll give it to you.”

“I like to be held down,” Obi-Wan admitted, turning his head to the side so that he didn’t have to look Jango in the eyes, “I like the weight on top of me, the way you held me down but- but not the-the words.”

Not the humiliating words. Not how you called me a schutta.

Obi-Wan didn’t say it but he didn’t need to.

Jango couldn’t forget the way that he’d held the man down, angry that he’d tried to worm his way into Jango’s bed so soon after his husband’s death, not realizing that it wasn’t what Obi-Wan had wanted either. It had been what he needed.

Jango leaned his weight down on the man, pressing him into the bed as he began to kriff him, holding him by the hips and sucking hickeys on his neck as Obi-Wan’s nails scraped down his back, head falling to the side to allow the man better access.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Jango murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear as he continued to kriff him, “You’re so perfect. You’re perfect for me.”

Every single praise made his lover squirm and the man’s legs wrapped around his waist as Jango continued with powerful, slow thrusts into the man.

Jango pressed their lips together as he felt the man start to clench, kissing him hard through his orgasm.

A few more thrusts and Jango was coming inside of him, grinding against him as he rode out his own orgasm, peppering kisses over the man’s face, even as Obi-Wan squirmed away from him.

“I get it, I get it,” Obi-Wan said with a small laugh, “You don’t have to-.”

“I do,” Jango said firmly, taking Obi-Wan’s face in his hands so that they were looking into each other’s eyes, “You need to know that you are worth more than I was giving you. I want you to expect more.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze softened on the man, “I guess Gheri was on to something after all.”

“I guess she was,” Jango agreed softly.

Jango groaned, looking up at the alarm that was going off on his comm and reaching a hand to shove into the buttons to turn it off, curling back up against Obi-Wan’s back, face in his neck as he pressed a kiss to the man’s shoulder.

“I think that was your cue that you had to leave, dear,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“And I think having a beautiful man against me in bed is my cue to ignore it,” Jango replied, “How am I supposed to get anything done knowing that you are here alone?”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized, “But I’m not ready to return yet. I still need more time. I- I will call you though, maybe. In a few days.”

“You don’t need to apologize for things that aren’t your fault, cyar’ika. We were both in a bad place but only one of us refused to admit it. I’m sorry,” Jango murmured, “and I told you that you could have all the time that you need. I meant that. I- I forced you to carve out the time for me to grieve, now I need to do the same for you.”

“But this- this was nice,” Obi-Wan admitted quietly, “Thank you. For coming to spend it with me. I know it must not have been easy to take off like that with such little notice.”

“Oh cyare, it was the easiest decision I’ve ever made,” Jango told him, kissing along his neck again, “I will always come for you.”

“Yeah well for now you need to leave me,” Obi-Wan said, turning so that he could look back at Jango, eyes falling to his lips, “But I’ll talk to you soon. Kiss me goodbye.”

Jango pressed their lips together, pulling Obi-Wan tight against him before leaning back and starting to untangle himself from the sheets reluctantly.

“I’ll see you again. I can’t wait to hear from you,” Jango promised before he started to get dressed, “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Obi-Wan gave him a sleepy smile.

It wasn’t for another two weeks that Obi-Wan commed him again.

Jango had been in a meeting but he’d called for a brief lunch break and everyone had happily accepted, since talking about the nuances of land development was dry at best and they’d been at it since early morning.

When Jango answered it, his heart clenched as he looked at Obi-Wan on the other line.

He looked good. 

Healthy and happy, like the Jetiise Temple really had brought him back to life.

Like being away from Jango had been good for him.

“Hey,” Obi-Wan greeted shyly, tucking a piece of long hair behind his ear.

It was nearly down to his shoulders, soft and silky looking with small braids pulled back through it that Jango knew were indicative of Stewjoni culture. It was the style that most of the men wore, since it allowed them to fight while still maintaining a high standard of cleanliness.

He had some lighter makeup, much lighter than traditionally worn and a soft, flowing shirt tucked into a pair of linen pants.

It made something clench in his stomach as he realized that had he met Obi-Wan outside of their arrangement this was probably what the man would have looked like.

He was breathtaking.

The clothing and makeup were part of it but it was really the confidence and happiness across his face that made the man look so stunning. He was sitting tall, unafraid and assured in a way that Jango had never been able to see before.

“Jango?” ObI-Wan questioned, head tilting a bit, “Is everything okay?”

“You look amazing-,” Jango blurted out before he could stop himself and then as his face heated up, “You look like you are doing so much better. Being with the Jetiise suits you.”

Being with Jango had never let the man look like that.

“It’s not just the Jedi,” Obi-Wan told him, as if he’d read Jango’s mind, “It’s being able to do what I love and being around people who I feel comfortable talking to. I was- I was a little lonely on Mandalore. I felt like I didn’t really belong and that I- well, that I was a dead weight. Here I know I’m pulling my weight and everyone else knows it too.”

“You- you weren’t ever a dead weight,” Jango told him, voice serious, “You- We weren’t helping you reach your full potential. You had things that you were good at and I wasn’t paying enough attention to you to find out what that was and help you do it.”

“I guess that’s true,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“When-if,” Jango corrected, “you come back, we will work on it. There’s a lot of use for someone with your talents. It’s a special thing to be able to do what you do. And with access to the library, I’m sure that you’ll be able to help broker deals better than anyone. Even me.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said softly, “I’d like that.”

“But uh I guess that’s enough about that,” Jango said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? I’d love to know what you’ve been doing. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Obi-Wa smiled, And I’ve been working on a new section of the gardens. It’s for desert plants…”

Jango waited impatiently at the hangar, Silas and Eki at his side for Obi-Wan’s ship to finally finish its landing.

He’d known the second that it had hit the atmo, immediately going to wait to greet the man.

It had been another month and Obi-Wan would need his help with his heat cycle again—only this time the man had felt confident enough to come back to Mandalore.

Jango hadn’t been able to sleep since he’d gotten the news.

He was excited. And terrified.

He was scared that this visit might be Obi-Wan’s last to the planet.

He might have shown up because he felt comfortable enough to stay in the palace again but he also might have come because he was finally confident enough to tell Jango that he wasn’t coming back.

It was like being able to see the crash before it happened, painfully slow and Jango could pinpoint every single moment that had led them to this.

Every single moment that might have been the last nail in the coffin.

The loading ramp opened and Jango pushed all of his worries to the side, vowing to deal with them later when there wasn’t something that needed all of his attention.

Obi-Wan looked even more beautiful in person than he had on the holo.

Without the bluish tinge of the holo his face was a healthy, flushed color and his smile seemed even brighter, blue-green eyes sparkling as he looked at the three of them.

“Jango!” he called and then his face broke out into a grin and he was running.

Jango held his arms open, even as his brain tried to catch up as Obi-Wan jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around Jango’s waist and ducking his head into Jango’s neck, arms squeezing tightly.

“ Cyar’ika ,” Jango said in a stunned voice.

Obi-Wan pulled back, still in Jango’s grip and pressed their lips together.

Jango kissed him back, their lips moving together in sync like they’d always known each other. Like they fit together perfectly.

When Obi-Wan pulled back Silas whistled and he laughed, loud and deep as he lowered his legs to the ground, gently pulling out of Jango’s grip to hug the man.

“It’s been too long, Jed’ika ,” Silas told him with a grin, accepting Obi-Wan into his arms.

“I’m not a Jedi,” Obi-Wan reminded him, “But it’s good to see you too. It has been a while.”

“Obi-Wan.”

The man turned and smiled, wrapping his arms around Eki, laughing as he swept her up into his arms, the short girl looking tiny in his grip.

Obi-Wan was taller than he remembered.

Or maybe he was just finally sitting up straight. Maybe it was that he wasn’t as meek and scared as when he’d followed Jango around. His shoulders looked a little broader and Jango blinked as he looked at the hilt clips to his pants.

“Is that a laser sword?” he asked, stunned.

Obi-Wan turned back to him, looking down and gripping the metal lightly with a sad smile, “Yes it is. It’s mine. Sort of. I’m not technically a Jedi but they let me find a kyber crystal. I didn’t build it in the typical way but Ani helped a lot with it. It’s- well I think it’s their way of apologizing and letting me know that I’m always welcome there.”

“Do you know how to use it?” Jango asked softly.

“I’ve been training,” Obi-Wan agreed, smiling at him, “I’ve- Well I did a little bit of training with Qui-Gon—without their approval of course, he was always like that, forgiveness instead of permission—but Ani and Soka have really been helping me to get the hang of it.”

“That’s- That’s great,” Jango said, throat feeling dry.

He looked so beautiful and perfect and-.

And he looked like he wasn’t Jango’s anymore.

He looked like a Jetii , strong and sure and powerful. Like a man who could take on the world and win with nothing but himself in his corner.

And still, he looked a little soft and caring and more than Jango deserved.

 He looked like he should have looked from the very start.

Jango sighed, pulling Obi-Wan more firmly to him, lowering them both further into the water. Obi-Wan had filled out like he’d thought, just slighter broader and with more defined muscle.

The man’s heat was over and both of them had been left sore this time since it had lasted three days, rather than the two that it normally did. Obi-Wan let his head fall back onto Jango’s shoulder, looking up at him as he threaded their fingers together.

“Thank you,” he told Jango quietly, “I like knowing that I don’t have to spend them alone. The pain relievers that they give you on Stewjon work but not as well as I would have liked. I hadn’t had a painless heat until the last time you showed up on Coruscant for me. Not since Qui-Gon had passed away.”

“Do you have to leave right away?” Jango asked, “I know that your training is important but I was hoping I might be able to take a few days of your time. Outside of the bedroom this time-.”

He brushed the back of Obi-Wan’s hand with his thumb, “-although I definitely don’t mind this.”

“I may be able to delay a day or two,” Obi-Wan agreed with a small smile, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a festival that will be happening tomorrow on one of the colony planets,” Jango explained, “It’s for the harvest of their flowers—they specialize in medicinal herbs and plants—and I think that it is something you might enjoy. If you want to go with me, that is.”

“I’d like that,” Obi-Wan said, fingers drawing shapes on Jango’s chest, “I’d love to go with you.”

“I’ve reached a decision.”

It was what Jango had been hoping for and dreading at the same time.

Obi-Wan had been away for six months and Jango, with every passing day, had begun to think that maybe Obi-Wan would leave him forever in a limbo of not knowing whether or not he was coming back.

It wouldn’t have been undeserved.

“Okay. What is it you want?” Jango asked, voice strained.

“I’d- I’d like to come back and try,” Obi-Wan told him, “But things can’t be the same way that they were and so if I come back I need to make a few req- no. They aren’t requests, I suppose, they are demands.”

“Okay,” Jango said, throat feeling dry, “Why don’t you tell me what those are and we can go from there?”

“There will be no negotiations,” Obi-Wan warned him, “Either you agree or you don’t.”

“Okay,” Jango assured him softly, “Just tell me what it is that you need, Obi-Wan.”

“I- I would like to get married again. This time for real, according to my people’s standards,” Obi-Wan said, “That way if- if I needed to I could walk away. So that I know that you won’t be so quick to hurt me next time.”

“That’s fair,” Jango agreed, “I would love to marry you again. Is that all?”

“I want to be able to visit the temple frequently,” Obi-Wan told him, “So I can talk to my friends and Ani and Ahsoka. I- I forgot how much I’d missed them until this.”

“You will be able to come and go as you please,” Jango promised, “You always could have. I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t. As my husband, you were never bound permanently to the surface of this planet. The only caveat is that you come back to me.”

“I can do that,” Obi-Wan agreed softly, “I’d also- I’m keeping my implant in until I feel comfortable removing it- if I feel like removing it. I wouldn’t mind adopting children but I don’t want to have any right now. Not until we’ve spent some more time side by side with each other, figuring out ourselves.”

“Of course,” Jango agreed, “That will always come down to what you want. It’s your body, Obi-Wan.”

“It- I want children,” Obi-Wan told him, swallowing thickly, “And I- I wanted children with you but all I can think about was how you held me down and made me confirm that my implant was in. I’m not bringing children into this world with that kind of environment. Which- It leads me to my last demand, I suppose.”

Jango nodded for him to continue.

“I want you to get help,” Obi-Wan murmured, steeling his shoulders as his mouth tightened into a line, “Talk to Eki or whoever you feel comfortable with—a professional that you feel comfortable with—and deal with the things that you’ve obviously been putting off.”

That made Jango stop.

Because as much as he loved Obi-Wan, as much as he wanted the man to stay, his pride was wounded. Or more like it had been mauled.

To go to therapy should have been the easiest yes but he didn’t want to talk about his late husband, didn’t want to unpack all the things he knew now and would never be able to repent for.

His husband had died thinking he was a concubine. He’d died thinking the only thing Jango had wanted from him was children, instead of the beautiful, bright man that he’d been.

He had to contend with the knowledge that Myles might not have actually wanted children. He might have only done it for Jango, to do what he thought he had to.

And the guilt, just thinking about trying to unpack it made his chest ache.

“I think I have to be honest with you,” Jango finally said, “In that just because I go to talk to someone doesn’t mean that I’m making progress. I’d be willing to talk to someone but I’m not- I’m not ready to talk about my late riduur. There’s still too much I’m trying to work out.”

“That’s what therapy is for,” Obi-Wan said softly, “It’s because we can’t always work things out by ourselves. It’s because we need help trying to untangle our thoughts.”

“I- I want to,” Jango finally said, “I’ll try for you. I just can’t guarantee that it will be what you want.”

“All I ask is that you try,” Obi-Wan assured him, “That’s all that we can do is try.”

“You look beautiful either way but I think this suits you more,” Jango murmured as he pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s.

“Yeah?” Obi-Wan asked softly, “That’s good. You’re only getting the other stuff in our bedroom.”

Jango tilted his head down, pressing their lips together as the crowd around them cheered.

It was all that anyone in the empire had been able to talk about—how the Mand’alor was getting married to the man using Stewjoni traditions—and everyone had been excited to see it.

Ever since it had been discovered that Obi-Wan had been considered a concubine there had been a wave of backlash—one that had gotten the Republic involved in whether their practices of selling off the poor’s children was something that they would allow.

Jango couldn’t fight Stewjon, since it wasn’t his territory but it seemed that the Jetiise hadn’t taken Obi-Wan’s words lightly and somehow—Jango thought the Skywalker boy and his padawan Tano probably had a part in it—they’d managed to find concubines from Stewjon that hadn’t been so lucky and with their stories they’d begun pushing back.

Jango pulled back and smiled at the man, “Welcome home, cyar’ika. We’ve missed you.”

Obi-Wan smiled back at him, “I’ve missed you too. And I’ve got some news. Eki told me that it’s typically shared with the people immediately so there’s no reason that it can’t be shared here.”

“I know what I said,” Obi-Wan continued as he pulled something out of a hidden pocket, “But it seems the galaxy had other plans for us and who am I to deny it?”

Jango blinked at the piece of flimsi that Obi-Wan had in his hand, sucking in a sharp breath before looking up at the man.

“Really?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Yes really,” Obi-Wan agreed, “Congratulations Jango. It looks like you’re going to be a father.”

Jango slammed into the man, picking him up off the ground, pressing their lips together and Obi-Wan cupped his face as he kissed the man back, wrapping his legs around his neck just liked he’d done on his first return to Mandalore so many months ago.

He pulled back, face breaking out into a wide grin as he looked out at the silent anticipation of the crowd, his people waiting for what the quiet words uttered between them had been, a quiet murmur as people whispered to each other in the crowd.

“He’s pregnant.”

Jango’s voice was hoarse as he spoke thickly, something winding in between his ribs and around his heart that he was almost afraid to try to unpack.

It was the second chance that he didn’t know if he deserved but Obi-Wan was warm in his arms and as the murmurs turned into a roar, people cheering as the news reached them, Jango couldn’t think about anything but the two hands wrapped around his face as Obi-Wan pulled him in for a kiss, promising to himself that he wouldn’t waste it.