The Sweetest Taste

Chapter 21 - A Wolf

The late afternoon sun was slowly getting lower and lower in the sky.

Done with their dinner of bone broth, and what remained of the fruit Din had picked up from the market earlier that day, Din and Grogu were sat around the scrubbed wooden table in their cabin.

Grogu was using his powers to roll his favourite metal ball across the table away from himself, and then back again. And Din, who had a number of blasters and weapons laid out on the other side of the table, was busy taking apart each one and cleaning them one by one. It was a slow and laborious job, but taking care of his equipment just came with the territory. One faulty blaster and that could be the difference between life and death for him or Grogu.

The pair were happy to sit in comfortable silence, as they often were, allowing Din's thoughts to wander.

All afternoon his mind had been on Lysa.

Seeing her again, after days apart, had truly put things in perspective for Din.

He knew now that it just wouldn't be that easy to let go. To take a step back. To try and pretend that she didn't exist.

Din knew exactly how he felt about her - that desperation he felt whenever he was near her.

A longing like nothing else he had ever experienced.

There had been women, brief fleeting flights of fancy, through the years. The armour and the credits he earned meant that he was always popular in any cantina or tavern throughout the Outer Rim. But these meetings or flirtations were always short-lived, and there was never an ounce of romance or love present. Sex had forever just been a necessary act to help with relaxation and relief. In his twenties and thirties it had been regular, as frequent as he could get it. But these days, Din was tired of one night engagements. Tired of pretending that that was all he wanted. He couldn't even remember the last time he had had sex. Had it been years? He struggled to remember.

But with Lysa now, it was like a heat had been re-ignited in him.

He craved her. His body and his heart aching for her.

And despite her making her choices, Din still could not help the way he felt.

And so, frustrated and lonely, despite the welcome company of his son, Din couldn't help but wish she was here with them.

He still had her cloak, hanging beside the door, from where she had handed it to him soaking wet, when she had sheltered from the storm.

And as badly as that night had ended, Din had not been able to stop himself from daydreaming about what might have happened if she had stayed. What might have happened if the storm hadn't ended and they hadn't argued.

Would he have offered her his bed to sleep in? Or would they have stayed up talking?

Would she have stayed for breakfast the next morning? Din could have used the powdered eggs he still had in the bottom of the refresher.

It was a foolish dream, Din knew that, but it didn't stop him thinking about it whenever the moments were quiet.

And they more than often were these days.

But it was the nights when his mind would grow wild with visions of what they could have done together, while the storm raged overhead.

Din imagining what her lips would feel like beneath his.

What she would taste like, as his tongue swirled over the hot skin of her neck.

How her hips would rock against his, in desperation for him to bury himself inside her.