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Unexpected Outcomes

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“It has been confirmed. The Mandalorian fleet is heading right towards us,” King Qui-Gon declared.

They had been hoping, since the first ship entered the sector three days prior, that the Mandalorians were just doing some scouting and then they would move on. It seemed Stewjon would not be so fortunate. 

“We would be wise to contact them before they arrive. See what their terms would be,” Prince Obi-Wan suggested.

Obi-Wan was the younger of Qui-Gon’s two sons. His elder brother, Xanatos, sniffed in disdain at his brother’s counsel.

“It would be weak to surrender before they have even arrived,” the Crown Prince argued. 

“The Mandalorian Empire has no right to conquer us,” King Qui-Gon added. “We should not be so quick to give in. We have warriors. We have the right to stand our ground here.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to sigh. In principle, he didn’t disagree, not really. The Mandalorians didn’t have the right to go around conquering people, but neither did the Hutts or any of the crime syndicates that went about doing largely the same. And honestly, neither did the Republic, though their “conquering” usually had more to do with economic manipulation than anything else. None of which changed that Stewjon would lose if they tried to fight. They had warriors, but not in the quantity or quality necessary to repel a full Mandalorian conquest force. 

“We stand no chance against them. When surrender is offered before they land, the Mandalorians offer decent terms! There are a number of planets that pay them a yearly tribute and must give the Empire the right of first refusal on trade goods but are otherwise left alone! There is every possibility that we could get such terms,” Obi-Wan argued.

“Enough, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said firmly. “We are not surrendering. A proper first confrontation is key. We may yet convince them we aren’t worth the time and effort.” 

Xanatos was smug as Obi-Wan was chastised by their father.

“If they see we intend to fight, they may well just leave. We’re a small world,” he added.

Obi-Wan didn’t understand how his father and brother could be so foolish, but he said nothing further. It would do no good.


The Mandalorian ships were barely an hour away from Stewjon.

“Still no contact from anyone on the planet?” Mand’alor Jango Fett asked. 

“None,” Myles replied.

He was frowning, not that it could be seen due to his helmet.

“You’d think a world like this would be smart enough to surrender,” Silas chimed in.

“Rulers of small planets like this fall into two categories. Those who realize how small their world is and act accordingly and those who aren’t smart enough to do so,” Jango said with a shake of his head. “Prepare a small force. This shouldn’t take long.”

This system really wasn’t of much interest. However, it was between them and the next system over, which was of interest. So Stewjon needed to be conquered for practicality, efficiency, and security. 

“Elek, Mand’alor!” sounded across the bridge as the order was given.

It didn’t take long to prepare.

By the time they reached the planet, the strike force was ready to deploy and conquer.


A single battle and it was clear that Obi-Wan had been right. Stewjon stood no chance. They had to surrender.

“We must send an envoy to the Mandalorians and seek terms,” Qui-Gon said, voice heavy. 

“I should go,” Xanatos said. “I am the Crown Prince.”

Obi-Wan frowned heavily.

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Don’t think I can do it, little brother?” the older prince asked. 

The answer to that was a resounding no but Obi-Wan knew better than to say so outright.

“I think sending the Crown Prince says we’re desperate. We are and we all know it but conceding to that too early isn’t in our best interest,” the younger pointed out.

The king nodded.

“Point well made, Obi-Wan. You will go.”

“Of course, father.”

After the king left the room, Xanatos turned to Obi-Wan and said, “Don’t hesitate to use that mouth of yours however you have to, to get them to negotiate with us. Or whatever else Fett might want from you.” 

Then he left the room, leaving Obi-Wan feeling sickened by the implication.


Jango wasn’t surprised at how quickly the emissary arrived. A single battle had been enough to prove that Stewjon could not resist. 

“A single person. Either very brave or very foolish,” Myles muttered under his breath. 

Jango had to agree. 

“Mand’alor, Prince Obi-Wan of Stewjon requests an audience,” Silas informed, for formality’s sake.

They had to make a proper impression after all.

“Send him in,” Jango ordered with a nod. 

He was still in full armor, so he let his eyes rove up and down the prince as he entered. The weather was chilly, so the thick outer robe made sense. The tunic underneath was clearly of good quality, but not overly fancy like many princelings across the galaxy seemed to prefer. He had the face and bearing of a man still adapting to being a man and not a boy. His posture suggested surety of purpose but not arrogance. He was also very, very pretty. Jango had to admit, he was intrigued. He settled into one of the chairs at the small table he used for meals and planning. He removed his helmet before he spoke. 

“I’m listening,” he said to the prince.

“My father, King Qui-Gon, requests to know your terms for our surrender,” Obi-Wan said, tone steady.

“I’m sure he does. I’m sure he is also intelligent enough to have realized you would have received better terms had he chosen to negotiate in the first place,” Jango said as he took a long drink of shig from the mug in front of him. 

The look that flitted across the prince’s face was interesting. The son was smarter than the father, it would seem. Prince Obi-Wan had known that, had likely mentioned it, and been ignored. Probably why he was the one sent now. Jango certainly appreciated pretty things who could also think.

“And surely you realize, Mand’alor Fett, that Stewjon is a small planet with little to offer to your Empire,” Obi-Wan challenged. 

Not merely smart and pretty, but brave as well. Jango was impressed. 

“You have a few novelties. Your world boasts one of the most popular trades in patterned and multi-color textiles in this quadrant.”

“So…you wanted to conquer our planet because we have eight colors of sheep, five of which are brightly colored?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

Jango snorted.

“You are also well known in the region for your exports of moray apples.”

The Prince’s eyebrows rose.

The Mand’alor laughed.

“Honestly? You were between us and the system we are actually interested in. We would have gladly accepted your surrender for an agreement of a yearly tribute. Obviously, that has changed since your father failed to show basic sense.” 

“What are the current terms?” Obi-Wan asked, straightening his stance and smoothing his face into a politician’s mask.

Jango let his eyes rove over the prince’s form.

“Negotiable,” he said.

He watched the complicated look that flashed across the prince’s face before he hardened into resolve.

“If that’s what you want from me,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

Jango stood and closed the distance between them. He ran a gloved finger down the prince’s cheek. 

“You’re very pretty and I think you know it. Under other circumstances, I would gladly take you to bed. However, I want nothing from you tonight. A bastard I might be, but I’m not interested in someone being coerced into my bed out of fear for their people. You’re going to stay the night, yes, but you’re going to sit in that chair,” he gestured to the one across from where he had been sitting, “and you’re going to tell me more about this world of yours. At dawn, I’ll send you on your way back to your father. I will not force myself on you and you will be completely unharmed when you leave this camp. Tomorrow evening, I’ll arrive at your palace. Negotiations will begin the morning after.”


Obi-Wan arrived home late morning to find the entire palace waiting with bated breath.

“Mand’alor Fett has agreed to negotiate for our surrender. He will arrive later today.”

“Well done, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said gently. “We will begin preparations immediately.”

 The king issued rapid fire orders to the palace staff.

“You look tired,” Feemor said softly to Obi-Wan. 

Feemor was only his father’s ward, but he had always been a better brother than Xanatos.

“Didn’t sleep. Fett demanded a lot of seemingly random information about Stewjon all night. Then at dawn told me I was free to leave,” Obi-Wan explained.

“Get some rest, Obi-Wan. You need to be at your best when Fett and his entourage arrive,” Qui-Gon ordered.

“Yes, father,” the younger prince said quietly before he headed to his room. 

As he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the warmth of a shower, his mind raced. He wasn’t sure what Fett would demand from them and his words… I want nothing from you tonight. Would Fett…wait? Demand something from him later in the process? Not knowing was concerning. Fett said he wasn’t the type to coerce someone into his bed. And really, he had no reason to lie in that moment. But there was no denying the desire in his eyes.

Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it before quickly finishing his shower. Those thoughts were not helpful. He slipped into his sleep clothes, then into his bed and was asleep within minutes. 


Jango didn’t really know what to expect when they arrived at the Stewjoni palace, but he couldn’t say he was impressed with what was waiting for them. A gaggle of courtiers in flashy, overly ornate outfits and a blinding array of colors waited anxiously for their arrival. He idly wondered what they thought of the Mandalorian contingent in their battle scuffed and scarred beskar'gam.  

He removed his helmet when he reached the Stewjoni king.

“Welcome, Mand’alor Fett. I am King Qui-Gon. This is my elder son, Crown Prince Xanatos. You’ve met my younger son, Obi-Wan. And this is my ward, Feemor,” the king explained politely as he indicated the younger men at his side.

Jango had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He really didn’t care who was who. The elder prince was definitely spoiled and self-important. The ward was quieter and had been looking Obi-Wan over with a critical gaze from the minute Jango arrived, likely watching for Obi-Wan’s reaction to Jango’s presence or any other sign of...discomfort. The man relaxed a little when he saw that Obi-Wan was unbothered. Jango decided the ward probably wasn’t so bad.

“I would have preferred to meet without having had to draw your people’s blood,” Jango said bluntly.

Diplomacy really wasn’t his thing and in cases like this, he didn’t see why he had to be diplomatic. Stewjon wanted to surrender. Mandalore could have conquered this world with ease and both sides knew it. There was a reason he brought people with him who were more diplomatic than he was.

“We have prepared the finest accommodations that our palace has to offer. I hope you will be comfortable,” Qui-Gon said diplomatically.

“I’m sure it will be satisfactory,” Jango allowed.

He really didn’t have any use for luxury, which he was sure this palace would have, but running water and a comfortable bed never went amiss.

“Obi-Wan will attend you while negotiations are ongoing,” the king continued.

The momentary widening of the younger prince’s eyes plainly spoke to having not been consulted in the matter before his politician's mask slid firmly back into place. Used to his father surprising him and not being allowed to react, then.. It spoke a great deal about their dynamic. 

“Of course, I would be honored,” Obi-Wan assured, his words accompanied by a respectful bow to his father.

Jango was a bit insulted that they still thought he'd so easily be swayed, but he was intrigued by the prince.

“That is acceptable. I’ll need someone who knows their way around.”


Qui-Gon pulled his younger son aside before the Mandalorians were ready to retire for the evening.

“I’m sorry to place this burden on you, but it is necessary,” he said.

“It’s alright,” the prince assured.

“Obi-Wan,” the king said, “you must do whatever it takes to keep him amenable.”

The same demand as Xanatos had made. Obi-Wan had been hoping his father would be less willing to offer him as a plaything than his brother but yet was not surprised. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“I understand,” he replied, doing his best to keep his voice even.

“I…I hope his demands are reasonable and it doesn’t take much to keep him pleased enough that we fare as well as possible,” Qui-Gon offered.

He knew what he was implying to his younger child and he hated it, but for the sake of their people this needed to work out. He could only hope that Obi-Wan wasn’t hurt in the process.

“As do I,” Obi-Wan said quietly.


The prince hovered awkwardly, clearly caught wrong-footed. He hadn’t anticipated his father’s decree and was uncertain how to handle it, it would seem. Jango felt a little sorry for the younger man. This wasn’t his fault, after all.

“Obi-Wan,” the Mandalorian said, voice the careful tone he would use with a spooked animal. “My promise from my camp still holds. You don’t need to use your body to appease me to get better terms for your people. I will accept your assistance but want no more than that. You have my word.”

The younger man relaxed. It was clear that he trusted that Jango would keep his word. What a novelty.

“In what ways would you like me to assist you, Mand’alor?”

“Your father boasted that this was the finest suite his palace offers. Prove it.”

“Of course, Mand’alor.”

Jango frowned. “None of that. I understand the necessity of formality, but that doesn’t mean I like it. Not behind closed doors, at least. Once I’m here for the day I want to relax. Call me Jango.”

Obi-Wan froze. 

“Is that...proper?” he asked.

“It is if I say it is,” the Mandalorian replied.

“As you will, Mand’al-...Jango.”

“Good boy.”

The prince’s ears pinked at that. Oh. Now that was interesting, Jango thought.  

“I also want to know who will be included on the negotiating team and what you can tell me about their personalities.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed. After a pause he added, “Jango.”

The Mandalorian grinned. 


The first day of negotiations was little more than posturing by both sides. They concluded shortly after midday and Jango asked Obi-Wan for a tour of the palace grounds afterwards. Myles and Silas accompanied them but stayed a short distance behind. Jango hardly needed bodyguards, but he didn’t want to seem too complacent.

“Tell me about the plants found here,” Jango said, surprisingly Obi-Wan.

“Of course,” the prince agreed. “I wouldn’t have thought such things of interest to you.”

“I spent my early childhood on a farm,” the Mandalorian replied. “My parents had flowers near the house in addition to the crops we grew.”

There was so much more to that story, but he wasn’t going to share it with someone he barely knew. 

“Plants are such fascinating things,” Obi-Wan said, uncertain what else to say to that. “If you have questions I can’t answer, the palace gardeners would be happy to talk about their work.”

“Let’s start with what you can tell me,” Jango said.

“Of course.”

It was an enjoyable few hours in the garden, despite the cool temperatures.


Talks began more seriously the next day, but it was clear that it wasn’t going to be a quick process. Jango might not like diplomacy, but he knew that being too harsh on or demanding of a world that surrendered so quickly would sow discontent. He wanted to avoid that, but he also didn’t want to be so lenient that it encouraged other worlds to fight first. Myles was infinitely better suited to such things, as was Dira, who traveled with Jango specifically to be a negotiator and diplomat. She was perfectly capable of self-defense and defending others, but words were always her first choice. Jango respected that. There was more than one way to serve the Empire and to answer the Mand’alor’s call. He was the one technically in charge of the talks, but he would defer to his second or his best diplomat as needed. Neither of them hesitated to speak up.

The same couldn’t be said of the Stewjoni. The King, both of his sons, his ward and a few advisors all packed their half of the room. However, none but the king spoke. Why he needed quite so many witnesses then, Jango had no idea.


A few days later, Jango’s patience was already running thin. It didn’t bode well for the process.

“Surely you realize that you are asking far too much,” Qui-Gon said with a frown, posture rigid. “The numbers of each good you want are incredibly high.”

Jango raised a brow.

It was Dira who spoke, tone gentle. “And what numbers would you consider fairer? Do you wish to change all of the numbers of just certain ones?”

The king relaxed a fraction. The blue skinned Twi’leki female always did a better job of making people feel at ease than Jango. Possibly because she actually cared to try. 

“Lower numbers across the board would be fair, but I am open to lowering only some.”

“That’s what we are here to discuss,” Dira reminded.

“Our numbers are based on your data about your world’s productivity,” Myles pointed out. “Are you implying your information was inaccurate?”

“I... that’s not exactly…” Qui-Gon began.

“I’m sure it's just a difference of interpretation,” the Twi’lek offered.

“Yes, of course,” the king agreed quickly.

Jango was glad he had his helmet on so no one could see him rolling his eyes. This was so karking tedious.


“A new duty for you tonight,” Jango said as they entered his chambers that evening.

Obi-Wan tensed a little but kept his tone even.

“How may I assist you?”

The Mandalorian snorted at the formal phrasing, but he gentled as he spoke.

“I won’t hurt you,” he reminded the younger man. “You’re going to help me remove my armor. Caring for it is a very...intimate thing but helping me remove it carries no real meaning.”

Except it being a sign of trust, but the prince didn’t need to know that. It was also a way to fuel a few of his fantasies. Obi-Wan on his knees would be gorgeous, even if he didn’t act on it in any of the ways he wanted to.

Jango methodically gave orders, carefully instructing Obi-Wan on the proper procedure for removing the armor piece by piece.

“Anything else I can do for you, Jango?” the prince asked.

Obi-Wan looked up from where he knelt on the floor by Jango’s feet. His face was slightly flushed, and his words were shy. How Jango wanted to thread his fingers through the young man’s hair and nudge him towards his cock. But he would not. He had given his word and he would keep it. 

But still.

He allowed himself to gently run a finger down Obi-Wan’s cheek, reminiscent of their first meeting.

“That will be all tonight,” Jango said.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Please let me know if you change your mind.”


Obi-Wan didn’t let himself think too much until he reached his own room. He practically collapsed onto his bed. He had been nervous when Jango...Fett, he reminded himself, he couldn’t let himself be so familiar with the man...he told him he would have a new duty. No matter what the other said, removing the armor felt intimate. And when he found himself on his knees...he felt a strong desire wash over him that he hadn’t felt before. If Fett had demanded anything from him then...he would have given it. 

And he’s not sure he would have regretted it after.


Jango thought Obi-Wan looked gorgeous in the tunics he was wearing. The long-sleeved underneath was a light blue, but the short-sleeved overtunic was a deep blue. Both had delicate silver embroidery that matched the silvery silk sash at his waist. It brought out the younger man’s eyes beautifully. If he hadn’t given his word that he would not touch the younger man sexually while the negotiations continued, that outfit would be enough to make him reconsider. It wasn’t revealing, but it fitted him perfectly. Jango wanted to tell him so, just to watch him blush. It was funny. For someone who could be so charming and flirtatious, Obi-Wan acted quite shy when Jango genuinely complimented or praised him. 

He needed to find a way to speed these talks up after their break day the following day.


“For such a small planet, you have an impressive library,” Jango admitted.

He had asked to see more of the palace since they were taking a rest day from negotiations. Myles had smirked at him and implied he only did it because he wanted to spend more time with Obi-Wan. His second...wasn’t wrong. Not that he’d admit to it.

Obi-Wan smiled as he looked around them.

“My grandfather, Dooku, took great pride in it, more than doubling the size of the library in his lifetime. Father has expanded a few sections of it as well. My mother brought a large number of books with her from her world when she married my father. And my father’s second wife added a number of volumes to it herself,” he explained.

“I’ve not seen or heard of the king having a wife,” the Mandalorian pointed out.

The prince sagged.

“My mother died when I was three. Father waited a respectable amount of time after her death to remarry, but it was no secret he planned to. Their marriage had been arranged and he had had a lover before it. He married Tahl shortly before my sixth birthday. She was always very kind and supportive. An accident during a humanitarian mission when I was thirteen cost her eyesight, but she didn’t let that stop her. Unfortunately, she died in a tragic speeder accident on New Apsolon when I was sixteen. She was visiting some old friends. If she was still alive...well. We would have been negotiating before battle ever happened. Father listened to her more than anyone else,” Obi-Wan said softly, tone sad. “He’s been more…withdrawn, in the four and a half years since she died.”

“Loss is hard,” Jango offered. “I was very young when Death Watch killed my parents. My buir, Jaster, found me in the ruins of my family’s farm and adopted me without hesitation. Taught me how to be a warrior so I would never have to feel that helplessness again. I took great pleasure in fully eliminating that internal threat to the Empire. Buir said that’s when he knew I was meant to succeed him as Mand’alor.”

The prince nodded thoughtfully. He hadn’t expected such a personal story from Jango and wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the information.

“I had wondered about that. I know Mand’alor isn’t entirely a hereditary position.”

“It isn’t at all hereditary. Sometimes it does pass from parent to child, but only if the child has proven worthy. More frequently it goes to someone the Mand’alor has mentored,” Jango explained. 

“Sounds like a smart way to go about it, make sure that the next ruler is actually fit to rule,” Obi-Wan acknowledged.

Jango bit back a retort about Xanatos. It was clear Obi-Wan’s elder brother was not fit to rule, but Stewjon’s traditions were clear. Not wanting to ruin a pleasant conversation, he chose to stick to the topic.

“Sometimes the Mand’alor holds the position until death, but others choose to retire when they are no longer at their physical peak. Jaster had to retire from the role due to injuries suffered when a trusted advisor betrayed him,” the Mandalorian added.

“Betrayal is a terrible thing,” the prince said softly.

The older man inclined his head, agreeing with the point.

“Jaster would like your library. He’s...well. To be honest, a bit of a nerd,” Jango said with a grin a moment later.

“I would not have expected that.”

“Are any of the books here sacred to your people? Would it be offensive to them to share copies?” the Mandalorian asked thoughtfully.

“No, none of the ones here in the library are sacred. Those are all held in the libraries of the various churches and temples,” Obi-Wan answered.

Jango smiled. Books he’d never seen before always made a good present for Jaster.


As Obi-Wan helped Jango out of his armor that night, he realized how personal a story he had shared with the other man. It felt right, connecting with each other as people.

The hours in the library were comfortable in a way time spent even with some of his friends often wasn’t. Jango was smart and surprisingly easy to talk to, as well as good company while they read in comfortable silence.

If only they had met some other way...


“Clearly your performance is lacking, and you aren’t pleasing him well enough,” Xanatos remarked snidely several days later.

Negotiations had gone nowhere that day, not having made it to midday before tempers flared and proceedings halted for the day.

Naturally, Xanatos blamed Obi-Wan. Just as the younger prince was about to respond to his brother, someone else spoke up instead.

“If you’re as foolish and unobservant in the field as you are in your own palace, it’s no wonder you were ready to surrender after a single battle,” Jango said dismissively.

Xanatos sputtered indignantly, outraged but also wanting to try to save face.

“If you intend to act petty, at least make sure the subject isn’t around or you will find yourself held accountable for your words,” Jango continued. “And you wouldn’t last long if challenged by a Mandalorian.”

They had been at this for a tenday and a half and his patience was rapidly running out. Obi-Wan was the only thing keeping him from issuing an ultimatum. The king was stubborn and constantly tried to insist Mandalore wanted too much, no matter how many times they changed their demands. 

“I apologize for my son’s attitude,” Qui-Gon offered, trying to diffuse the situation before it erupted further. 

“Is he not old enough to do so himself? Or is he just so petulant and spoiled he wouldn’t think he had to?” the Mand’alor challenged.

Obi-Wan winced at the cold tone, but knew his father was going to just dig his heels in. The downside to two very stubborn rulers who were both used to getting their way. He wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure if it would help the situation or hurt it. 

“His poor behavior reflects poorly on me; thus, it is my place to speak for any offense he gave,” the king countered.

Jango snorted dismissively.

“For the record, Obi-Wan is doing just fine. I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with him. He’s intelligent, witty and a skilled conversationalist. Which is more than I can say for you,” Jango said, looking pointedly at Xanatos. “I’m sure an hour’s conversation with Obi-Wan is more pleasing than an entire night spent fucking you would be, Xanatos.”

That unleashed a whole new level of indignant, angry sputtering from the older prince. A hissed order from Qui-Gon to a guard had the older prince being quickly rushed from the room before he could really start an incident.

Jango let his gaze wander across the remaining Stewjoni in the room. The king looked off kilter, but pensive. But the younger prince. Well. Obi-Wan had blushed so karking prettily. Oh, how Jango wanted. He had to remind himself why that wasn’t yet possible. He couldn’t try anything because while he very much wanted Obi-Wan, he wanted him truly willing. While the negotiations were ongoing, it would be too much like he was manipulating the younger prince into his bed. He wouldn’t do it. 


Qui-Gon had known that there was a risk that Fett would take advantage of Obi-Wan. There were so many wildly conflicting rumors about the sort of man Fett was, that it was impossible to gauge his every act. It had been a calculated risk, so Qui-Gon had kept a close eye on his younger son, looking for any sign of mistreatment at Fett’s hands. He had seen none. In fact, his son was relaxed around Fett, he spoke freely with him and never hesitated to approach him. He had assumed that whatever happened between them, Obi-Wan was comfortable with it. There was no denying the lust filled gazes Fett ran along Obi-Wan’s body some days. Fett wanted Obi-Wan, of that there was no doubt but now Qui-Gon had reason to believe it hadn’t been acted on despite his earlier assumptions. Was he truly not the type to just take what he wanted from people, the way he did from planets?  

After the day’s incident, Qui-Gon realized he had completely misunderstood the man Mand’alor Fett was. He had hoped that assigning Obi-Wan to attend the Mand’alor would be in their favor, that his younger son’s demeanor would help diffuse tension caused by the negotiations. Obi-Wan was charming and often put people at ease; he had been that way since he was a child. He hadn’t expected Fett to genuinely like and respect Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon now feared that these negotiations were going to cost him his younger child. He hoped Fett didn’t demand Obi-Wan as part of their treaty. Perhaps he needed to agree to the next offer to avoid that. The Mandalorians’ most recent set of demands wasn’t entirely unreasonable...


Another break day followed that little incident, with the Stewjoni hoping it would give the Mand’alor time to cool down.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Obi-Wan asked as he brought a firstmeal tray into the room.

“I have, yes. It’s been a while though,” the Mandalorian admitted.

“We have some fine horses in the stable. There’s a nice orchard on the far side of the palace grounds. I thought it might make a nice change of scenery for the day,” the prince offered shyly.

“I think it sounds like a great idea,” Jango agreed with a smile.

He wasn’t going to turn down time with Obi-Wan away from his family. The prince was so much more relaxed when his father and brother weren’t around.

After they arrived in the orchard, he admitted, at least in his own mind, that he wouldn’t have wanted to ride much further than they had and that he was glad they intended to spend time in the orchard before they went back.

Obi-Wan looked gorgeous in the bright sunlight. It made his hair shine and his face light up like something out of a cheesy romance holo.

Jango knew he was in so much trouble. What had started as base attraction was rapidly becoming so much more. Every deep discussion, every debate, every new bit of knowledge shared, every personal story told...made him want Obi-Wan in ways he hadn’t ever truly taken the time to consider before. He had always known he wanted to marry and eventually have a family. But never before had someone been placed before him who made him want to turn that desire from an ambiguous someday to a now.


Xanatos felt humiliated following the confrontation with the Mand’alor. He didn’t want the talks to genuinely fail, as he knew that would have…inconvenient consequences. But he wasn’t above small bits of sabotage that made others look bad.

First, he told several of his father’s advisors that the time of the talks changed, leaving Qui-Gon to have to delay the day’s session to summon them.

Two days later, he slipped in and took the firstmeal tray that should have gone to Fett so that there was nothing when Obi-Wan arrived. The kitchen had to scramble to pull together a new tray. The intention had been to make Obi-Wan look incompetent. That failed when Fett instead blamed the kitchen staff for being disorganized.

A few days later he convinced a servant to deliver a message to Qui-Gon, saying it had been misdelivered to him. The flimsi contained outrageous demands, supposedly from Fett, if the talks were to continue. It caused an explosive argument that Obi-Wan, Feemor, Myles and Dira were only barely able to diffuse.

A two-day break was declared to give both sides time to calm down.

The Mandalorians came back to the table with a new offer.

Qui-Gon wasn’t entirely pleased with it but he realized that if they pushed much more, Fett would lose patience entirely and that would go poorly for Stewjon.

Mid-morning, everything changed.

“We have evidence that Prince Xanatos is responsible for all of the disruptions proceedings have faced recently,” Silas said bluntly.

“You are certain?” Jango asked.

“We are, Alor,” Nima, Dira’s sister and one of Silas’ most trusted scouts, assured.

The meticulously collected evidence was damning.

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked, stricken.

“He humiliated me,” Xanatos seethed.

“So, you would rather see our people suffer?” Qui-Gon demanded.

“It’s hardly as bad as all that!” Xanatos cried.

“Enough,” Jango snarled. He turned to Qui-Gon, “Everything in this most recent deal, plus Xanatos is removed as your heir and that is final.”

“Am I allowed to have an heir?” Qui-Gon asked carefully.

Xanatos was ready to make a remark about his younger brother’s skills in bed, when the Mand’alor’s words shocked him.

“Feemor is your new heir. We’ll have the new treaty ready by morning. Sign it or we take your world by force and you lose the throne entirely,” Jango said bluntly.


“This is an outrage!” Xanatos shrieked.

“Silence! Do you not care what your actions could have done? You could have damned us to war when peace was otherwise in our grasp,” Qui-Gon said angrily.

“So, I’m supposed to just accept this?” Xanatos demanded.

“For now, yes. I’m certain, in time, when the Mand’alor’s ire has cooled, we’ll be able to renegotiate the terms and reinstate you,” the king said.

Xanatos glared petulantly at his father’s ward.

“I’m sure you’re happy about this,” he sneered.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Feemor pointed out. “You did this to yourself with your immature, petty behavior. Be glad he didn’t demand worse for the insult you offered him and for trying to interfere in the process.”

Obi-Wan watched the interactions carefully, but his mind was on Jango. Why Feemor? The older man was capable, yes, and would be a far better king than Xanatos would ever be. But why not him? Had he done something to make the Mandalorian think he wasn’t capable of ruling? It hurt to think the man he had come to care for so much thought so little of him.


Six weeks after they started, the treaty finalizing Stewjon’s surrender and annexation into the Mandalorian Empire was complete. Everything was signed and sealed. Announcements had been released. Negotiations were officially over. King Qui-Gon looked pensive. Prince Xanatos looked furious. The new Crown Prince Feemor looked uncertain. But it was Obi-Wan that Jango cared most about; he looked almost sad. It gave the Mandalorian hope that his rash decision was a good one. 

Jango crossed the room to stand before Obi-Wan. He took the younger man’s hand in his.

“Marry me,” he proposed.

Gasps echoed throughout the room, from Stewjoni and Mandalorian alike.

“Jango,” Obi-Wan’s eyes had gone wide in shock. 

“I wanted to be clear this is about you and me, not about your people's wellbeing,” Jango explained. “Or I would have gone about this the proper way and really courted you first.”

“You…you’re serious?” the younger man breathed.

The Mandalorian removed his helmet. “Very serious.” 

Oh. This. This was a very good reason for replacing Xanatos with Feemor and not him. Jango...Jango wanted to keep him. He couldn’t do that if Obi-Wan was his father’s heir.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan responded a mere heartbeat later.

“This is outrageous!” Xanatos shrieked. 

“Silence,” Qui-Gon snapped at his elder son.

“But…” Xanatos started.

The tension rose as it was clear all the Mandalorians were displeased.

“Shut up or I will do it for you,” Feemor hissed.

That they seemed to approve of, as most seemed to relax minutely.

“I will admit, Mand’alor Fett, that it is usually customary to ask a King’s permission, before proposing to one of his children,” Qui-Gon pointed out.

“You’re part of my Empire now. I don’t need your permission,” Jango retorted bluntly, tone making it clear he would tolerate no argument. 

Qui-Gon looked as if he wanted to say something, but wisely thought better of it.

“I’m accepting his proposal, father, whether or not you approve,” Obi-Wan said.

His voice was quiet, but steady. His words were a simple statement of fact.

“Then I suppose all I can do is offer my congratulations, Obi-Wan,” the king said simply.

The Mandalorians ushered everyone out of the room, leaving Jango and Obi-Wan alone.

“Mandalorian weddings are simple things, but if you prefer a wedding by your own customs, I am amenable to that,” the dark-haired man said to his ven’riduur. 

Obi-Wan thought for a few moments.

He smiled shyly as he admitted, “I’ve always dreamt of the day I could wear our traditional wedding outfit.”

Jango pulled Obi-Wan into his arms. Their first kiss was gentle and full of affection.

“Then you’ll have it.”

“The rest of the ceremony was never quite as important to me, as there was no guarantee I’d get it when my father arranged a marriage. The outfit always was important, and I always held out hope I’d get to have it, no matter what wedding tradition I had to follow. I don’t really have a good explanation for it,” the younger man babbled.

Another soft kiss silenced him. 

“You don’t have to justify it. If you want a traditional Stewjoni wedding, whatever that is, we can do it. I’ll want to say Mandalorian vows as well, but I don’t care about the rest. If you don’t want a traditional wedding, we can acquire your outfit then select a time and place to say our vows. We’ll have to have a party when we return to Mandalore,” the older man explained. “And I do owe you a few courting gifts, as I jumped straight to a proposal.”

Obi-Wan laughed. 

“I do admit it was surprising.”

Jango stroked his cheek.

“I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you, but I wasn’t going to invite you into my bed as long as you still felt there was a threat to your people. The time we spent together made me realize that I want more than just having you in my bed. I want you, all of you.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I feel the same,” the younger man said with a smile, though his eyes were bright with tears.

“Are you alright?” the older man asked.

“I’m happy,” Obi-Wan assured. “This is…rather surreal, to be honest and so very unexpected. But I’m happy.

The next kiss was markedly less soft than the first two.

“Oh,” the redhead said softly as they parted.

His face and neck were such a pretty pink. Jango was pleased, but also curious. He was dying to know how far that adorable flush went.

“I can’t wait to see just how prettily I can make you blush for me in bed,” Jango teased. 

The younger man looked away at those words, biting his lip.


“I…well, that is...I…I’ve never…” he trailed off.

Oh. Oh. By the ka’ra…

“You’re a virgin.”

The reply was so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “Yes.”

“Shhh, there’s no shame in that, cyare,” Jango rushed to assure.

“I wasn't interested in one-night stands, and I know how easily I get attached so I couldn't risk a casual arrangement. I didn't want to end up with a broken heart when my father finally arranged a marriage for me,” Obi-Wan explained. 

Jango’s thoughts were a jumble. Fuck yes, I get to introduce him to so many things, he's going to look so pretty in my our bed, fucked to exhaustion... 

But out loud his words were gentle. “I understand. I'll teach you.”

And he would. He would teach his beautiful young ven’riduur all about pleasure and take care of him. Obi-Wan wasn’t a battle to be won, but rather a gift to be cherished. He would treat the younger man accordingly. 

The answering smile was breathtaking.

Jango couldn’t wait.


Obi-Wan looked every bit the prince he was, while still looking like himself. He was gorgeous. The outer layer was a woolen surcoat with a V-neck in deep, dark purple. At the shoulders and every hem the traditional Stewjoni symbols for luck and a long, happy marriage glistened in gold embroidery. The long-sleeved tunic underneath was a rich burgundy. From the middle of the forearm down, the sleeves bore the symbol of the Royal House of Stewjon. Underneath were a pair of golden colored leggings and brown leatheris boots. It was topped with a waist length cape of teal velvet. Jango was a lucky bastard and he knew it. He himself had polished his armor thoroughly in preparation for the wedding. The beskar gleamed in the sun, though he had chosen to forgo his helmet for this.

The ceremony itself was small;only Jango’s closest men, Obi-Wan’s family, and a few close friends. When Obi-Wan asked if they could marry in his favorite part of the palace gardens, then have a feast afterwards, he agreed readily. He wanted Obi-Wan to be happy with how his wedding day had gone.

Qui-Gon read the traditional ancient blessing that was always read at royal weddings. Obi-Wan took it as a sign that his father had chosen to accept the match.

Then they exchanged traditional Mandalorian vows.

“Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dhar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde,” Jango said, tone serious but eyes smiling.

“Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dhar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde,” Obi-Wan repeated carefully.

They then followed the Stewjoni tradition of drinking from a shared mug of ale.

With that, the ceremony was complete, and it was time for the feast.

The feast afterwards was far, far larger than the ceremony and needed to be held in the royal ballroom as opposed to the small garden. All of Jango’s soldiers and aides attended, as did much of the Stewjoni court. There were traditional Stewjoni foods and dancing.

All in all, it was a wonderful day and Jango knew Obi-Wan would cherish the memories. Jango himself had loved their ceremony, a mix of Mandalorian and Stewjoni traditions. The feast was fine but found himself longing for the celebration they would have when they returned to Mandalore.


Jango was many things. He was Mand’alor. He was a warrior, a conqueror. He was a leader on and off the battlefield. He had a well-earned reputation for being harsh. But in this moment, he was none of those things. He didn’t want to be any of those things. In this moment, he was just a man about to introduce his beautiful new, young husband to the pleasures of sex for the first time. Obi-Wan had been so embarrassed to admit that Jango would be his first. Jango, on the other hand, had been excited. He had so many things to teach Obi-Wan. The possessive parts of him were thrilled to know he would be Obi-Wan’s first, to know that what Obi-Wan learned of all this would be with him and him alone. 

Jango trailed a finger down Obi-Wan’s chest. “This is about both of us finding pleasure, cyare. If you don’t like something, tell me. It’s inevitable that there will be things I like that you don’t, and the reverse will also be true. That’s ok.”

“I feel so foolish for knowing so little,” Obi-Wan admitted softly. “But I... I didn’t see the point. I didn’t think I would get any say in my marriage and I didn’t want to know what might be out there that I was missing out on. It seems stupid, now.”

That wouldn’t do.

“You were trying to protect yourself from disappointment. It wasn’t stupid,” Jango countered.

“But I don’t know how to please you,” the younger man whispered.

Oh, by the ka’ra, Jango had gotten lucky. 

“I’ll teach you,” he assured. “And I promise, I’ll enjoy teaching you.”

Obi-Wan smiled at that. Jango pulled him in for a deep kiss.

The redhead was breathless when they parted. “Oh.”

The dark-haired man grinned. “That’s just the beginning, mesh’la.”

Jango expertly stripped Obi-Wan, even as the younger man smiled shyly at him. 

“Can I?” Obi-Wan asked, gesturing at the armor Jango still wore.

“Please do.”

The younger man no longer fumbled with the clasps on Jango’s armor, not after spending so much time attending him during the negotiations.

“Did you imagine this?” Obi-Wan asked, curious. “All the times I helped you out of your armor?”

Jango grinned, a gleam in his eyes. “My sweet riduur, I was imagining it from the start.”

Obi-Wan blushed furiously at that. “But you never even showed it…”

Jango took Obi-Wan’s hands in his.

“I never wanted you to feel like I was trying to pressure you into something. I wanted you damn near from the beginning, but I’m not in the habit of taking unwilling partners into my bed.”

“I know that! I do. I accepted your proposal because I want this, want us. I love you, as crazy as that sounds. I just...suppose I’m in awe of your self-control? It was easy to hide my feelings because I didn’t want my brother to figure it out and somehow use it against me, but I don’t know that I could have done it with you on your knees at my feet to help me out of armor every single night!” Obi-Wan explained.

Jango laughed before kissing him again. 

“Time and experience. And the fierce desire to rub it in your brother’s face in the end. He wanted you to whore yourself out for his benefit. I denied him that, then denied him everything else he wanted. And now, I get to give both of us what we want. It’s a win all around.”

Obi-Wan snorted.

“I suppose spite is an excellent motivator.”

Jango grinned. 

“It is! Now. Enough talk…”

Obi-Wan grinned cheekily. 

“Was there something you wanted?”

 Ka’ra help him, but Jango adored that sass.

“I believe you had a task to finish, mesh’la.”

Obi-Wan flushed so karking prettily at that word and Jango didn’t think he’d ever tire of it.

The redhead made quick work of the rest of the armor and kute beneath. He went to step back, but Jango reeled him in for another kiss. Obi-Wan gasped as so much bare skin touched. 

“Just wait,” Jango purred. “Going to make you feel so good, my sweet riduur.”

Obi-Wan shivered in anticipation. The tone was a little dark, but he wasn’t afraid. If Jango intended to hurt him, he’d had plenty of opportunity already.

“Show me?” The younger man implored.

“Gladly,” the dark-haired man replied with a grin. “Lay down on your back for me.”

Obi-Wan scrambled to do as he was told. 

Jango drank in the sight.

“Mesh’la,” he murmured.

Jango joined Obi-Wan on the bed. He crawled over him, pressing their bodies together as he gave the younger man another kiss. Obi-Wan already looked a bit dazed when they parted. 

The dark-haired man knew the type of man he was. Jango was a warrior ruler who was capable of brutal conquest. But he had already decided he wanted to be a gentle riduur to Obi-Wan. His sweet young riduur was to be valued, not conquered. He would teach the younger man all about pleasure. Jango would wring it out of him until he was an exhausted puddle of limbs. He would possess the younger man utterly, but he would do so carefully. He didn’t want Obi-Wan to ever associate intimacy or sex between them with pain or fear.

Obi-Wan reached out a tentative hand and ran it through Jango’s hair for a moment before moving to his shoulder. Good. He didn’t want Obi-Wan to feel intimidated. 

“Do you want to explore a bit first, cyare? Before I do anything?” Jango asked. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what all he wanted, but he knew he wanted to touch. 

“I want to touch you. But I don’t really know the right places?” He admitted sheepishly. “Other than, well, the obvious.

“Shhh, there’s no shame in not knowing. Why don’t I start, and once you have an idea of what feels good to you, you can have a turn?” Jango offered.

Obi-Wan nodded. That sounded like a good plan.

Jango started with another kiss before he pulled back, sitting up so he could run his hands down Obi-Wan’s bare chest. He paused for a heartbeat, making sure he had Obi-Wan’s full attention before he slowly rubbed a thumb across one of the younger man’s nipples. 

Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped.

Jango grinned. Not all men were sensitive there, but it was his luck that Obi-Wan was!

“Like that?” He asked.

Obi-Wan nodded.

Jango repeated the movement, enjoying the hitch of breath when he started to rub both nipples at once. After a long moment, he let his hands travel further down, simply caressing Obi-Wan’s skin. He bent down, lapping at Obi-Wan’s belly button. 

The younger man squirmed and made a sound that sounded an awful lot like a meep. It made Jango laugh against his skin, which just made Obi-Wan squirm more.

Jango felt Obi-Wan’s hand card through his hair once more. 

“You ready to try?” He asked.

“I think so,” the younger man agreed.

Jango lay down and encouraged Obi-Wan to straddle his waist.

“Take you time and touch all you want, mesh’la,” Jango said with a smile.

His own hands settled on Obi-Wan’s trim hips.

Obi-Wan’s hands started with Jango’s face. They gently, tentatively caressed his cheeks before sliding down to his shoulders. One hand stayed there, simply curling over Jango’s left shoulder while the other trailed down his chest. 

“You’re so strong,” Obi-Wan said.

The look in his eyes indicated he liked what he saw and felt.

“A warrior’s life,” Jango reminded gently. “I won’t expect you to always fight at my side if that isn’t the path you want, but I will expect you to be able to defend yourself.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” Obi-Wan assured.

Jango placed a hand over the one resting on his chest. “I know. You are Mandokarla to your very core.”

Obi-Wan smiled, knowing how important that was to Jango. He ran his hand across the planes of Jango’s torso, pausing to gently touch his scars. He hadn’t dared do that before.

“You’re a survivor,” Obi-Wan said softly.

“As are all Mandalorians.”

Obi-Wan shifted how he was sitting which brushed his ass against Jango’s groin. It drew a groan from Jango and a startled gasp from Obi-Wan when he realized.

“I think I’m ready to move along,” Obi-Wan said, blushing.

He wanted to explore more but after feeling Jango’s cock against his ass he decided further exploration could wait.

Obi-Wan squeaked when with a single move, Jango flipped them. The younger man found himself pinned and also startlingly turned on. 

“Please do that frequently,” he said, blushing furiously. 

Jango grinned. 

“Like being reminded of how strong I am?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted without shame.

The only possible thing Jango could do in response was kiss Obi-Wan breathless, so that’s what he did. By the ka’ra he would cherish this pretty thing every day for the rest of his life.

The dark-haired man settled between the redhead’s spread legs. He ran a gentle hand up one pale thigh.

“Just relax, mesh’la,” Jango instructed as he slowly slipped a single lubed finger into Obi-Wan’s hole.

The younger man gasped at the intrusion. 

“Shhh, just relax. I’ll go slow. It’s alright,” the older man soothed. 

Jango took his time, waiting until Obi-Wan relaxed to add a second finger. 

“Oh,” the younger man breathed.

The dark-haired man moved his fingers, alternating between thrusting, twisting, and scissoring. He kept at that level for some time, wanting to get Obi-Wan good and stretched. He didn’t want to hurt him. Making this first time as pleasurable as possible was important. 

“More,” Obi-Wan begged. 

“Yes, you are ready for more,” Jango agreed. 

Two fingers became three. The younger man whined at the increased stretch. 

“Easy, mesh’la. Don’t tense up. Just relax,” the older man soothed. 

He moved his fingers, searching for a particular spot. A keen told him when he had found it. 

“Jango,” Obi-Wan gasped out. 

“Feel good, cyare?” he asked. 

“Yes. More. Please?” 

“So polite, mesh’la. Don’t worry. I’m going to make you feel so good,” the older man assured.

 Jango kept fingering Obi-Wan until he had relaxed and felt properly loose.

“It would be easier with you on your hands and knees. But we have options for face to face if you would prefer that,” he explained to the younger man.

“I want to see you,” Obi-Wan said immediately.

A soft kiss. “That’s not a problem, cyar’ika.”

He lubed up his cock, then carefully maneuvered Obi-Wan’s legs over his arms.

“Don’t tense up,” Jango said. “This is your first time. It’s going to be uncomfortable at first because you aren’t used to it. But if it hurts, tell me immediately and we’ll stop. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Obi-Wan assured.

Jango entered Obi-Wan slowly, pausing partway to give the younger man a moment to catch his breath.

“It’s ok,” the redhead assured.

The dark-haired man pressed the rest of the way in and then held still, letting the other adjust.

“Feel so full,” Obi-Wan panted.

“Just relax, cyar’ika. When you’re ready, I’m going to make you feel so good,” Jango told him.

Several moments later, the redhead said, “You can move now.”

The dark-haired man carefully pulled out, then slowly thrust back in.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped.

“Ok?” Jango asked.

“Good, it’s good.”

Jango kept his thrusts slow and gentle waiting for Obi-Wan to become more comfortable.

“Ready for more, mesh’la?” he asked several long moments later.

A nod.

“I need words, Obi-Wan,” he chided gently.

“More, please?”

“Good boy,” Jango praised.

He picked up the pace, enjoying the little whines it earned him. After Obi-Wan adjusted to the new pace, Jango shifted. A keen told him when he found the younger man’s prostate.

“Jango,” Obi-Wan panted.

“Told you I’d make you feel good,” Jango replied with a grin.

A few more thrusts directly to the prostate and Obi-Wan was moaning almost constantly. Jango pushed in all the way, grinding into the sensitive spot rather than thrusting. Obi-Wan whimpered.

“I think you can come just from this,” Jango told him. “I think I can make you come on my cock without touching yours.”

Obi-Wan whined. He didn’t know if that could happen for him or not, but he did feel close already.

“Let’s see if we can make it happen, mesh’la,” Jango said.

He began to thrust again, hitting Obi-Wan’s prostate more frequently than not. The younger man trembled beneath him as he approached the edge.

“Come on, cyar’ika. Come for me,” Jango encouraged. “I know you can.”

Another series of thrusts directly to his prostate and Obi-Wan came with a cry.

“So beautiful for me,” Jango murmured.

He shifted so that he wasn’t hitting Obi-Wan’s prostate anymore while he chased his own release. Shortly thereafter, he came, spilling deep inside his riduur.

After he caught his breath, he gently pulled out and rolled off Obi-Wan. Then he reached out and pulled the younger man close.

“Rest, Obi-Wan. We’ll clean up in a little while,” Jango said gently.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan murmured tiredly as he cuddled even closer into Jango’s side.

He was asleep within minutes.

Jango made a mental note that sex made Obi-Wan cuddly and tired.


The system that the Mandalorians had been heading for turned out to be wiser than Stewjon. As soon as the Mandalorian ships dropped out of hyperspace, they were hailed by the planet’s parliament and asked for terms. 

“The Mand’alor is willing to come to an agreement on a suitable yearly tribute,” Myles said, speaking in Jango’s stead until negotiations formally opened.

“We are willing to come to him to negotiate,” the planet’s spokesbeing said.

“That’s acceptable,” Jango said over internal comms. “They can arrive tomorrow, mid-morning.”

Myles relayed this to the spokesbeing who readily accepted. 

“So, do we break out the chance cubes for this or do Dira and I get stuck with it?” Myles grumbled after the comm call ended. 

“Not a fan of organizing and hosting negotiations?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Not really, no,” Myles admitted.

“I don’t mind negotiating but planning the karking thing is hardly my favorite part either,” Dira admitted.

 “Fortunately for all of you, I’m trained to do just that,” Obi-Wan said with a smile.

“Obi-Wan, you are officially my favorite,” Myles declared.

Jango snorted. “How easily your affections are bought.”

“I’m just a simple man, ner Mand’alor.”

With Obi-Wan’s planning (and no small amount of his charm), the negotiation process went smoothly.

It only took a week for the agreement to be reached and the treaty to be ratified by the planet’s parliament. 

“So, he’s coming with us all the time, right? Because he’s actually good at this,” Dira said.

Obi-Wan smiled softly, pleased. “I’m glad I was able to be of help.”

“You were perfect,” Jango assured. 

“It’s…damn near perfect, to be honest. To have the Alor’riduur be of such a different skillset. It’s a good balance,” Myles pointed out.

“Alor’riduur?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Title for the Mand’alor’s spouse,” Jango explained. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“You most certainly did not,” the redhead informed him.

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan retorted dryly.


Obi-Wan had been in their quarters reading when Jango came back from his shift on the bridge. Even though they were in hyperspace, he was in full armor. At first, Obi-Wan made himself look away. Then he remembered that he didn’t have to. This was his husband. He could look all he wanted.

“See something you like, cyare?” Jango asked, grin evident in his voice.

The younger man blushed furiously as he admitted, “Yes, very much so.”

The older man crossed the room, so he was standing in front of his husband. He pulled off his helmet so he could meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Talk to me,” he said gently as he reached out a hand to stroke his beloved’s cheek.

“You look so…so captivating in your armor,” the younger man said. “I…want to climb in your lap…naked…and feel the beskar against my skin.”

His face was bright red as he admitted to his newest fantasy.

Jango groaned. His riduur was the sweetest, most perfect little thing in the galaxy. He was sure of it.

“If you want that, I support it fully.”

Obi-Wan perked up.

“Really? It’s not…wrong?”

“Obi-Wan,” Jango said gently. “There are those for whom Mandalorian armor is nothing more than a fetish. That is…problematic for us in some ways, because our armor has such meaning. But you are my riduur and the fact that it’s me in the armor matters as much to you as the armor itself. So, its ok.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” the younger man said softly.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika,” the older man replied. “Your Mando’a is improving!”

“It’s important,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“Yes, it is, and I’m so pleased you take it so seriously,” Jango assured. “And that is why your interest in my armor is ok. You care about what it means to be Mandalorian.”

“You’re sure it’s alright that I haven’t actually sworn the Resol’nare yet?” the younger man asked.

The dark-haired man caressed the redhead’s cheek.

“You want to truly understand what you are swearing. That’s a very valid reason to wait,” he assured. Smiling, he encouraged, “I believe you wanted to try something?”

Obi-Wan blushed crimson once more.

“You could…sit on the bed in your armor. And I could…sit on your lap? I’m…not really sure what else I want but that’s a start.”

“It’s an excellent start, mesh’la,” Jango assured.

He took his beloved’s hand and tugged him towards their bed.

As Jango settled back against the bulkhead he asked, “Want my helmet on or off?”

“Off, please. I want to see you,” Obi-Wan said.

He stripped, taking his time, putting on just a bit of a show for his husband who watched with an appreciative gaze.

“Mesh’la,” Jango murmured.

The younger man smiled. He pulled the lube out of the bedside drawer, then climbed onto the bed before crawling until he reached the older man.

As he settled into place, straddling Jango’s lap Obi-Wan teased, “One might think you saw something you liked, husband mine.”

“Just one or two things,” Jango sassed back.

The beskar was surprisingly cool against Obi-Wan’s skin. It was hard and unyielding, but the hands that came up to rest on his hips were gentle, despite the gloves and gauntlets Jango still wore.

“How does it feel, cyare?” the older man asked.

“Good,” the younger replied. “Touch me? Please?”


Jango left one hand on Obi-Wan’s hip, but the other slowly stroked its way up his chest. The redhead let out a gasp as one gloved finger stroked across a nipple.The texture made it so different from the last time. Jango’s finger rubbed a bit harder, making Obi-Wan squirm.

“Like that?” the older man asked.

“Yes,” the younger man assured. “More?”

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. I’m not letting you go until I’ve made a thorough mess of you.”

Obi-Wan shivered at the promise in those words. He whimpered when Jango’s next move was to lean down and lick a slow stripe over Obi-Wan’s other nipple. The dual sensations, the warm wetness of Jango’s tongue over the one nipple and the textured glove against his other made him whine and squirm as the attention continued. He felt himself growing hard quickly.

“Jango,” he panted out.

He keened when the lick became a bite. He was squirming so much he slipped a bit to the side, which rubbed his now fully hardened cock against the Jango’s armor-clad thigh.

“Kark, you’re gorgeous like this,” Jango breathed as he straightened to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in a kiss a long moment later.

“Jango,” Obi-Wan repeated.

“Tell me what you want, cyare.”

“Touch me,” the younger man begged.

Jango pulled his gloves off and grabbed the lube bottle from where Obi-Wan had dropped it next to them, pouring some into one of his hands before settling the other back on Obi-Wan’s hip. He closed his lubed hand around Obi-Wan’s cock and slowly started to stroke. The younger man squirmed as the minutes dragged on, the slow pace was maddening, and he wanted more.

“More,” he begged.

“Impatient, cyare?” Jango teased.

Obi-Wan whined and tried to buck into Jango’s hand, but the one on his hip held him firmly in place. The almost teasingly slow pace continued, and his frustration built.

“Jango, Jango, please.

The hand left his cock and Obi-Wan groaned in protest.

“Shhh. Turn around, cyare. Put your back against my chest,” the older man instructed.

The younger man eagerly did as he was told, still sitting on Jango’s legs, but pressed firmly back to chest. Once he was settled, Jango’s hand resumed stroking his cock. His other hand found its way back to Obi-Wan’s chest and started to play with one of his nipples. Obi-Wan writhed against Jango as the dual sensations did nothing but increase his arousal.

Jango shifted how they were sitting, slipping one of his knees between Obi-Wan’s, forcing the younger man’s legs further apart. He let go of Obi-Wan’s cock to reach down and run a finger along his balls.

Obi-Wan whimpered as the unexpected touch was paired with a Jango started to suck a mark into the pale skin of his neck. The hand slowly stroked its way back up to Obi-Wan’s cock before resuming an almost lazy rhythm. The redhead sobbed in desperation.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, Jango.”

“Are you close, mesh’la? Do you need more?” the older man purred into his ear.

“Yes,” he sobbed.

Jango tightened his grip just a bit and picked up the pace, bringing the other hand back to Obi-Wan’s hip to keep the younger man where he wanted him. He whispered a mix of filthy things, endearments, and encouragements into Obi-Wan’s ear, reveling in the way Obi-Wan trembled as he fell apart.

“So beautiful for me.”

Obi-Wan came with a sob, before sagging back against Jango’s chest, totally boneless.

“So perfect, cyare,” the older man praised.

“That was really hot,” the younger man said several moments later.

Jango laughed. “Indeed, it was. Next time…I’ll leave the gloves on.”

The sound Obi-Wan made was a cross between a squeak and a meep, but his eyes were wide.

Jango grinned as he maneuvered Obi-Wan onto the bed. He slipped off the bed before scooping his riduur into his arms and heading for the fresher.

“Wait. You’re still in your armor. Oh! You didn’t…”

“We’ll take care of me in the shower, mesh’la.”


Obi-Wan had thrown himself headlong into studying Mando’a and learning everything he could about Mandalorian culture and history.

“Jaster will like it if you ask him for lessons,” Myles pointed out one evening.

Myles, Silas and Dira had joined him and Jango for latemeal and they were discussing Obi-Wan’s studies.

Jango paused, food halfway to his mouth. “Oh I’m an idiot for not thinking of that. Buir would love getting to be the one to teach my riduur more about our people.”

Obi-Wan smiled shyly. “If you’re sure it won’t be a bother. I think it would be a great way for him and me to get to know one another.”

Myles snorted. “He will be thrilled.

“He really will,” Silas agreed. “You’re as much of a nerd as he is. You two can share long suffering sighs over what uncultured swine the rest of us are.”

Unfortunately for Jango, he had just taken a sip of water when Silas spoke. He choked his way around a startled laugh.

“You’re not wrong. Oh, sweet Manda. They’re going to have so much fun judging the rest of us for our utter lack of refinement,” Jango added when he caught his breath.

“Jaster is as much a scholar as he is a warrior,” Myles explained. “He can kill with his bare hands and then immediately move onto a spirited debate about some ancient poetry and follow that up with a full tea service.”

“I think we are going to get along splendidly,” Obi-Wan said cheerfully.

“You really will,” Dira said, lekku twitching with mirth. “I can’t wait to watch.”


“Is Jaster really going to like me?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

They were relaxing in bed before trying to sleep. Obi-Wan was cuddled close to Jango’s side, head on the older man’s chest.

“He’s going to love you, cyare. You’ll have so much to bond over,” Jango assured gently. “And he’ll love you because you make me happy.”

The younger man smiled softly. He pressed a kiss right over his husband’s heart.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Obi-Wan snuggled just a bit closer and drifted off to sleep. Jango wasn’t far behind.

Jango woke slowly the next morning. He and Obi-Wan had shifted overnight so that they were both on their sides, but not quite touching. He had no need to rush the day, so he moved closer, gently pulling his husband close. It made the younger man start to stir. 

“Shhh,” Jango murmured into Obi-Wan’s ear. 

“Jango,” came the sleepy reply. 

“It’s alright, cyare. No need to wake up yet. It’s just me.”


Jango smiled, understanding the sleep muffled question. 

“Everything’s fine. I just want to hold you.” 

Obi-Wan’s happy sigh and wiggling back to press against him was all the reassurance he needed that it was ok. 

It wasn’t long until Obi-Wan’s breathing evened out again. It made Jango smile. He was happier than he had ever been. He’d been honest the night before when he said Jaster would love Obi-Wan for that alone. He had gotten so lucky, finding this beautiful, smart, Mandokarla man on some unimportant backwater world. He would savor every moment they got to have. Jango let himself drift, content to just relax and enjoy the quiet moment.

After a while, the redhead began to stir. His little wiggles as he fought his way to wakefulness meant he was rubbing his ass right against Jango’s crotch. The dark-haired man didn’t complain, as it gave him an idea. Another thing he could introduce his pretty husband to. 

“Finally awake?” Jango teased softly as he pressed a kiss behind Obi-Wan’s ear.

“Morning,” came the still sleep roughed reply. 

The dark-haired man laughed quietly. “It is indeed morning.”

The redhead groaned. He started to stretch but froze as he felt the hardness pressed against his ass. A sly smile and he wriggled a bit, purposely rubbing along it.

“I see I won’t have to do any convincing to get you in the mood,” Jango teased. 

Obi-Wan blushed, but grinned as he tilted his head back, leaning onto the other’s shoulder. 

“Have something in mind, do you?” he sassed back.

“Let me show you something new.”

The younger man agreed readily. 

“You know me. Always eager to learn!” 

Jango laughed. 

“You certainly are, cyare.” 

It was endearing, really, the way Obi-Wan absorbed all the knowledge and experience Jango had to offer him, and that didn’t end with the bedroom.

Jango gently guided Obi-Wan into the position he wanted him. Then he put some lube on his cock and settled into position behind the younger man. 

“You’ll probably end up wanting to grip your pillow or the sheets,” the dark-haired man advised. He slipped one arm under Obi-Wan’s neck and wrapped it across his chest, helping hold the younger man where he wanted him. “Put some lube on my hand.” 

Obi-Wan did as instructed then set the lube bottle down next to his pillow. He gasped as Jango’s hand took hold of his cock at the same moment he felt Jango’s hips rock against his.

“Just like this, mesh’la. Your every move will either make you rub against my cock or fuck into my fist,” Jango explained. 

Another move of the older man’s hips and his slickened cock slipped between Obi-Wan’s ass cheeks. 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed at the unexpected sensation. 

“I can do all the work if you want,” the dark-haired man offered. “But I guarantee you won’t be able to hold still forever.” 

“Is that a challenge, cyare?” the younger man asked. 

Jango laughed. “Only if you want it to be.” 

The dark-haired man began to stroke the redhead’s cock, lazily rolling his hips as he did. Occasionally, he stopped moving his hips and nibbled on the pale neck and shoulder in front of him instead. He would suddenly roll his hips again, just to keep Obi-Wan on edge from the changing sensations. 

He was right. It wasn’t long at all before Obi-Wan squirmed and writhed against him. He made no effort to not be smug. 

“I did warn you,” he gloated. 

The younger man responded by pressing back against him harder. 

Jango pressed his lips to the top of Obi-Wan’s spine. A series of soft kisses there was enough to distract the redhead. It meant he was able to startle a whine from the younger man by tightening his grip on his cock. 

“Jango,” Obi-Wan panted.

 The older man focused more on the movement of his hips, thrusting harder against the younger’s ass, and making that fuck the younger’s cock into his fist. Obi-Wan writhed in Jango’s hold, the sensations so different from what they had previously done. The arm across his chest shifted, bringing a hand down to pinch at a nipple. Obi-Wan keened and trembled in Jango’s hold. 

“Please, more,” the redhead begged. 

“You beg so prettily, cyar’ika. How could I refuse you?” the dark-haired man purred. 

Changing tactics, Jango focused his attention on stroking Obi-Wan’s cock while leaving a few marks on his neck and shoulder. He knew by the pitch of Obi-Wan’s whines when the younger man was getting close. 

“Are young going to come for me, cyare? Come on, mesh’la. I want to see you come all over my fist.” 

“Close. Jango. Please,” Obi-Wan whimpered. 

A sharp twist of the dark-haired man’s hand paired with a snap of his hips, and Obi-Wan came with a keen. 

“So good for me, cyare,” Jango purred. “Now just stay still for me.” 

Normally he wasn’t a fan of just rutting like this to get off, but he was too turned on to take the time to prep Obi-Wan for penetration and he was enjoying holding him too much to want to let go so he had use of one of his own hands. He didn’t last long, rubbing against Obi-Wan’s ass and enjoying the little gasps and whines as his movements rubbed the younger man’s cock into the fist still wrapped around it. He spilled, painting Obi-Wan’s ass and thighs with his seed. 

“That was…different,” Obi-Wan said softly a long moment later.

 “Good different or bad different?” Jango asked. 

“Good. Unexpected, certainly, but good,” the younger man assured. 

The older man pressed a soft kiss to the back of his husband’s neck. 

“Good. Now, I think a shower is in order.”

“You read my mind.”

Waking still messy after falling asleep after their first time had not been pleasant. Ever since, Obi-Wan had fought the sleepiness sex caused him and insisted on cleaning up. Jango found it endearing.


Jango was a bit anxious when they reached Mandalore. He knew his buir would love Obi-Wan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a bit nervous about the first introduction.

“Do I look alright?” Obi-Wan asked nervously.

He was wearing the same outfit that Jango had admired so during the talks. The only additions were the beskar vambraces and vibroblade he now wore. It would be some time before Obi-Wan had a full set of armor, if he even decided he wanted it. For now, Jango enjoyed the sight of his belated courting gifts on his riduur’s body.

“You look gorgeous,” Jango assured.

Jaster greeted them gladly when they arrived in the dining hall.

“Jan’ika, took you long enough to come home and introduce your riduur to your old buir,” he teased.

“You’re not that old,” Jango grumbled.

It made Obi-Wan laugh, which made the other two men smile.

“Buir, this is Obi-Wan, my riduur. Obi-Wan, this is my buir, Jaster Mereel.”

“Pleased to finally meet you,” Obi-Wan said politely.

“Buir, he likes tea,” Jango added.

“Oh, thank the ka’ra. Finally, another civilized person in this place.”

Obi-Wan beamed.

For the first time, Jango wondered if introducing his riduur to his buir had been a terrible idea.


There was nothing like seeing Obi-Wan fast asleep in their bed in their bedroom in the True Mandalorian stronghold that also served as the Mand’alor’s palace. Jango hadn’t anticipated finding a spouse when he left for that campaign. If anyone had told him as his ship approached Stewjon that that insignificant little world would be where he found the love of his life…he would have thought them mad.

Finding Obi-Wan was the most unexpected outcome ever.

But it was one he wouldn’t change for the galaxy.