#2. A LITTLE TIDE UP AT THE MOMENT

[ INITIAL CHAPTER ]

( — so this was scrapped because even though it was adorable, it interrupted the flow of the story. initially, I thought it to be pumped to max cuteness because these were their final moments together? aha, this was supposed to be in 20 instead of Circe Vanis but hey, here's the original!  )

»»————-————-««

Myra was sleeping. 

To many, it would have been something to let slide but Myra during short snores? Din was obviously witnessing a rare moment as a chronicle that had been bestowed upon him. Careful not to make a noise as he spurred to the landing beneath the cockpit, he arrived by her side in the softest footfalls. 

Spare my heart, he found himself thinking. 

In a fulgid golden slip drape, and with her feet tucked under her, Myra's lips were parted open to release soft snuffles and her face set in brooding composure. Like someone had stretched silk over her features, the lights danced off her tan skin and long eyelashes which shrouded a numinous couple of aureate eyes. 

When he moved closer, she stirred slowly, where her lips twitched down in a slow whisper for something—his name?—and she nestled deeper into the crook of her arms which rested over the bench. 

His hesitance bothered himself more than anyone else, wanting to do so much more than just stand there. Had she been writing, he thought as he saw the clutter of unorganized paper and her fingers smeared in sable stains from the ink. Before he could snatch one to inspect, her whisper rang past, bright and clear.

"I have no place," she said. 

Well, that's that, he reflected dryly. He saw the words in a language he identified as Iegoan, scriptures and figures that had been related to the Ways. The tattoo on her elbow had glistened with her words, and her dreams, catching him in awe.

"It is... Iego... " she breathed out, the rest of the sentence droned out in a mumble.

Lifting the helmet off his head, he set it down beside her head and crouching onto his feet. He didn't want to touch her—knowing how much it angered witches—but it was so hard not to. Her little snores parted the floaters in the dark curtain of locks, which he wanted to push away to view her more clearly. 

And so, he did.

Taking his chances, he traced the plushness of her lip with his ungloved index and as it pouted under his warm touch, he had the longing to love it, kiss it, bite it and sink himself into ecstasy that would lead to a perfect night in rippling cotton and hushed breaths. In the intent gaze, he could almost perceive the mapping of the universe itself and the coruscating planets within. And if he looked up from it, he didn't want to find himself in the mercy of questioning if he could ever adore a witch.

A trickle of exhaling fell from that goddamned lip, all the words he wanted to say glued to his throat and refusing to expel the air needed. The feeling was so strange, to have the one stable force and to be in love.

"What are you doing?"

In a moment that wavered among love and fright, he found himself jerking his hand back as if he had been burnt and his heart racing miles per hour. Myra's wide, curious gaze had drifted between his hand and his face with a smirk that twisted on her lips.

"You were," he scratched the back of his ear, trying to make up for his strange actions, "sleeping. And I came to—to get stuff."

"I was unwinding," she corrected, holding neck to ease off stress and soon, tying her hair at the nape of her neck into a braid. "I don't sleep."

"Sort of looked like you were snoring," he teased her.

Rolling her eyes, she laughed; arresting the rhythm of his heart. As Din reached for his helmet to slip it back on, a tender hand laid over his to halt his actions. He looked to her, smiling.

"Come on," he placed her hand away, "I've got places to be."

She shook her head. "One night."

"What?"

"Just give me one night," she said, her eyes thinning in a plead and her hand tightening over his. "Please."

"One night for what?"

"Just you." 

He laughed instead of giving an answer, his mouth running dry with her request. Sometimes, as much as her frankness pleased him, it caught him off guard. In a flash of irresolution, he took the helmet and slid it on unwillingly. The hapless witch watched on, disappointed.

"Myra, I—"

"Please, Mandalorian," she attempted again. 

"I would," he assured her and then found himself staring at the baby in the cradle who watched them converse with quiet.

"Oh," she breathed out in realization. "I'm sure the farmer could help."

Kuiil, who was on the other end of the ship, worked on repairing the initial cradle to help the baby sleep better. He looked up when he heard Myra's voice, nodding at her.

"Sir," she smiled respectfully, "if you could please look after the baby and the ship until we get back, that would be very helpful. We won't be off for long."

"Of course, Myra," the farmer agreed. "Be safe."

She rose from the ground with a broad smile on her lips, extending her hands for the Mandalorian to take. He did, sliding his vambraces across her palm to clutch her wrist tightly.

"Where do you want to go?" She asked him, grinning.

"Anywhere."

She rolled her eyes. "Specifics, Mandalorian."

He chuckled, the modulator in his helmet staggering at the interface. "Somewhere quiet. With a little green."

Her eyes glossed over, thinking hard about a site to visit. Once she had arrived at a conclusion, she blinked up at him and a grin of mischief creeping up on her lips. Was he going to regret this? 

Never.

∞

"Endor?" Din laughed.

They had grounded on a cool, forest moon after the terrifying two minutes of Ichor led teleportation, spewing them onto the grassy banks of Endor. The sun was descending slowly in the distance, coating the treetops in an aureate glistening and allowing the peaks of cabins on the trees to come into clear view.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He asked her, nudging a hand into her arm.

"Even more than I had imagined," she whispered in awe, feeling the breeze that ran unchecked around her and swathed her arms around herself.

"I needed this," he spoke out loud. "A break."

"And a break you will get," she clasped his arm, pulling him forward with a small laugh. Her bare feet crunched the dried leaves and twigs under her, leaving a trail of gold dust in the wake as he followed her. 

"What's on your mind?"

"I was thinking of," she drawled off, looking to the huts that lay scattered overhead. "So many things."

"I'm gonna have to touch you," he recommended.

"Go ahead."

"I have an inkling," he pulled her back to reel her into his chest and she looked up from his chest with a smile that only teased him more. Almost as if she had sensed the playfulness in him, she lifted the helmet a little until his nose to press a chaste kiss.

"I love that inkling," she whispered, her eyes fixated on his lips. "How about I go talk to the Ewoks for a lodging?"

"You better make it fast," he tucked his tongue into his cheek. He kissed her back slowly, her eyes shutting in the pleasure and her legs swaying closer to him. Abruptly, he pulled back and her eyes snapped open.

With a little shake of her head, Myra rid off her trance and walked away swiftly with a grumble. He watched her trot to where the short furry villagers—Ewoks—had gathered around a bonfire and all eyes fell on her in curiosity. They were furry bipeds, natives on Endor, only a meter tall. They barely came up to Myra's hip.

With a dazzling smile, she got on her knees to communicate with the creatures at their height. They crowded around her and obviously, admired the rarity she was. She had a way with people; the witches charm, he termed it. 

He could understand them, moving closer and soon flanking Myra's side as she laughed with them about something they had said.

"They think you're some type of divinity," she told him.

"Are you kidding?" He stated with a hoarse chuckle.

"Why would I be?" She answered seriously, wincing when one tugged on the end of her hair in curiosity but, she never stopped them. "They seem to hold reverence for you."

He really couldn't care. "So, do we get a spot?"

"Yes, we do," she nodded, looking at them in reluctance as she rose back to his side with a disheartened smile on her face. Sighing, she glanced up and pointed to the farthest treetop. "There."

Within moments of unannounced departure, he found himself inside the thatched roofs of the Ewok village. Each one of the huts rounded the bark of the tree, a bold green with supreme nuance for the eye who dwelled in awe and love. The inside was modest, concise and enough to house the travellers for the night. He had to duck his head to enter, grinning lightly at the little furniture that lay scattered around them.

He drew the helmet off his head, turning on his heel to see Myra inclining onto the doorframe and watching him admire the place.

"You like it?"

He didn't answer and looked to the view behind Myra where the dying sun had given birth to the dusk and the stardust that lay diverged around her like an aurora, rather than proudly as its own galaxy.

"A man of few words indeed," she breathed, moving closer and the tautness divulging between like the desired infestation. The air turned brittle when her fingers hauled up from the rim of his breastplate to lay limp over his neck.

"Let's just say I'm saving them for you," he let his eyes lower to her lips which deliberately parted as soon as she sensed his gaze on it.

"My, my, Mandalorian," a flirtatious smile broke out on her face, moving away to let him take a seat on the bed to undo his armour pads. "You sure have learned a thing or two from a witch."

"Only from the best, for the best."

He was returned with a sound bout of laughter, her head thrown back with the mirth as she tried to fight off heavy amusement. 

"I'll give you some space," she said, turning about. 

His heart raced in a flash. "Why, where're you going?"

"I'll be here," she appeased him. "Unwind, gather your thoughts."

Din's eyes were overflowing with gaiety, as he released the clasps to his armour one by one, for once taking his own sweet time in undoing down to his simple pullovers and dense slacks. Rolling up the sleeves, he let a few buttons free and saw Myra providing him with his personal space by lounging by the balcony with a blithe grace as she dangled her feet over the balustrade. 

His toes curled in his boots and tried to let out slow, controlled breaths to loosen his tense muscles from her influence. Lolling his head in a circle, he wiggled his hands and peeked a glance at her again—wrong. This only heightened his distress, wondering if it were possible to hook back his helmet and avoid the trouble. 

"What's the matter?" Myra asked, her eyes still set on the sky.

"Nothing," he answered, way too quickly to be normal. He cleared his throat awkwardly, raking both his hands into his hair and settling both of them on his shoulders with a sigh. 

Her voice was more buoyant now, devoid of a tease. "Come, I'll ease you."

He let out a short-lived laugh, walking to adhere to her request and skirting her side. He leaned on his elbows over the wooden rails, instantly feeling the warmth radiate from her. It was welcoming, tempting him of things he would rather be doing instead of small conversation. Desperation built in his chest when he peeked a glance, complex and unbeatable even with his iron cased control. 

"Why the sudden alarm?" She asked, her chin set over her shoulder to feed him a curious gaze. 

Focusing on his interlocked hands, he bit his lip. "It's no big deal."

"Is it something I said or," she insisted and slowly bunching the train her satin dress to show it to him, "or what I wear? I could change if you—"

"No," he refused with a small chuckle. "No, of course not."

"Are you afraid of me?"

Was Din afraid of being all alone in one of the finest forest moons in the galaxy with a gorgeous yet, unpredictable witch? 

To be honest, yes. He didn't know if he could keep himself together, hold himself back from touching her or memorizing the uneven crevasses of skin that seemed nonexistent in her. In fact, he was afraid that he was going to scare her off. 

"It's alright," she laughed at him softly. "That part of you doesn't frustrate me anymore. I understand that it's in your anthropomorphic drive to feel that way."

He blinked, astounded by the reasoning. "What part?"

"Your need to..." she looked at him knowingly, "you know what."

Yes, he knew what. It was called being sexually frustrated. He saw Myra roll her lips into her teeth, concealing an obvious laugh. He grumbled; privacy was dead around here.

"I would never hurt you," she told him, auric eyes brimming with honesty. "I trust you more than anyone else. Trust is a far cry from a witch."

"And a Mandalorian," he added. 

On a note of hushed effort, Din's lips laid upon Myra's in the softest of caress. She was stunned when she felt his hand slither over her hair and braid into them at the nape of her neck, her hand going to balance herself over the railing she sat on.

"Yes, I love you too, but I would very much like to be alive to do so," she mumbled airily into his lips, glancing down at the ledge she was trying to balance near. 

With deep and languid laughter they partook in, Myra vaulted over to the safer side of the balcony and he wasted no time in clamping a hand over her knees and pushing himself into her. As if instinctually, she accepted by weaving her legs around his waist and aware of his desires.

"So, you whisked me off to a moon for one night," a smirk curled on his lips using a finger to drag a soft tendril that curled around her neck. "You must have a plan."

"How tired are you?" She arched a perfect brow, her unfair lips teasing his with words.

Very, very tired. "Not so much."

She searched his face, tilting her head and a sharp canine sinking into her lips. Their hips were in zero proximity, tensed into another and Din felt a trickle of sweat roll down his temple.

"Your eyes droop," she rasped, nudging her forehead with his. "And I heard your thoughts."

Damn it, he thought. Did she hear that, too?

"Yes," she laughed. 

Okay, he thought again and looked at her with a smile who reciprocated it with a tiny laugh. I love your hair like this.

"Thanks," she pushed a hand through the loose tendrils, two thin braids from her temples pinned to her nape. It looked like she had a little tiara for herself. "I could do yours?"

"You wouldn't dare," he narrowed his eyes on her.

She looked at the droopy, brown mess with a scrunch of her nose. "You need a snipping."

He ran a hand through the scruff around his forehead, feeling the thickness gained from a while ago. He met her fingers in his hair, feeling her haul it a bunch with a playful laugh. 

It was soothing, the stroking of her fingers through his hair and an uncontrollable yawn left him. Myra cast it a narrowed glance.

"I'm not tired," he shook his head, a wildfire raking through his nerve endings when that damned grin spread on her lips. And, then heaven.

∞

Myra watched carefully as Din's eyes rippled conscious after an entire two hours of passing out. She saw the joyous shock register on his face before he could hide it with a small smile, a large hand cupping the side of her face to see if it were still a fantasy. On instinct, she leaned into his touch.

He half-laughed in disbelief, probably because Myra was never there when he woke up. His eyes were darkened, sandy hues, not indulged in lust like in cheesy bodice-rippers, but with a chestnut beauty that evolved a moment into eternity and became the bliss she wished to be a part of. 

"Tell me I didn't nod off on the one night I got with you."

"You didn't," she chuckled quietly amidst the buzzing of insects in the woods outside. Using a finger, she pushed a strand of hair that fell into his eyes. "Moreover, you needed it."

"So you put me to sleep?"

"It's just a simple repose spell," she said easily, grinning. "You look way better."

He cocked a brow, in the mood for mischief and his ego graciously stroked. "Do I?"

Between confusion and surprise, Myra let out a gasp when his long arms had scooped her into his chest to press his face into the warm pulse on her neck. Her laughs turned lighter, impish with her delight when he kissed the spot, long and loud. 

 "If you keep up that energy, we could make it to the lake."

"A lake?" He sounded pleased.

She winked. "I want to show you something."

∞

The lake that Myra had hurried Din off to lay silver in the bright light of the midnight stars, not a distinct ovoid like a looking glass of the past, but irregular like a tusche scrap on the decaying pavement. The undulated water bubbled right into the fissures, washing the loam from the stones. Around the annular banks were redwoods, disordered in their spacing, just enough to let the unchecked breeze kiss their parched skin.

Din got onto the balls of his feet to peer in, feeling unshackled from the inside out. He had none of his beskar guard on him weighing him down, just the little layer of cloth that separated him from the climate. 

"The traveller, I told you about?" She said, softly to not break the silence. He looked at her in curiosity. "He told the crowd about this lake."

"And?"

"He said that beasts feast on lonely souls by the shore," she whispered, her eyes stretched wide for a dramatic effect. Din only furnished a playful glare.

"You can't lie to save your life," he muttered.

A soft laugh left her, nodding. "He also said that it's a beautiful place to visit."

By the time his trance had come to an end, Myra was undoing the strings in her slip dress, revealing the brilliant magenta tattoos that were scrawled along the sun-kissed skin. He watched her bare-skinned refinement until her ebony hair efficiently curtained her upper body from his view, biting down a noise of disappointment as she disappeared into the water with a whoo and an elegant leap. Her dress wavered to the ground and shock crossed him in mere seconds. 

"Myra!"

She bobbed up from the glassy perfection of water with a lungful of hair, smoothing her damp hair with a long stroke through it. A sweet laugh left her as she turned to face him, the lake and its water speckling over her dark features like diamonds with their radiant enclosing. The water must've been only neck-deep, her hands unmoving as she stayed still on her two feet. 

"Well," she cocked a brow. "Do you not know how to swim?"

"I do."

"Are you afraid?" She challenged.

He scoffed at her. "Don't act snippy, witch."

Rising from the ground, he let his hands cross at his abdomen to tug the cloth shirt off his body and held a small, prideful smirk when he saw Myra's flustered gaze drop down to his exposed chest. Firm, lean muscles ricked over the honey-like attraction in two defined lines down to the depth of—

"Eyes up here," he called out, snapping his fingers and pointing to his face. 

"I am merely appreciating the view," she winked. He didn't have an answer, only a playful smile. 

No, she warned herself. Myra swore she had lions that clawed at her insides, afraid they might break right out of her skin. She wetted her lips, blinking to clear off her trance and turning away. Her pride had been hit; it felt wonderful that it was her Mandalorian. Her chest caught with a inhale when she heard the slosh of water, indicating his entrance.

Marble skin moulded into the supple skin of her back, firm arms bracing her waist underwater. She leaned her head back, fitting it into his shoulder and revelling in the creeping fever from Din. He brushed a finger over her shoulder to push a lock away, tracing a tattoo that had manifested over her skin. She smiled; knowing and amused.

"Ask me," she helped him out of his decorated misery. 

"Are there really beasts?" He asked quietly, his heart still a low strum betraying him of his worries. "I mean, I don't have my blasters or anything, in fact, I—"

Myra burst out into fits of laughter, shaking her head at the Mandalorian who shut his eyes in embarrassment. "No living thing here but you." 

"Good for me," he mumbled silently. "So..."

"So?"

He cleared his throat. "So, we're alone."

Myra tried to act nonchalant, failing miserably. She bit her lip to contain her laughter. "What do you propose we do?"

As if giving her an inkling, she felt his warm lips press at the curve of her nape where the tattoo of the Mandalore had been etched. 

"You know what."

Her grin broadened, turning toward and taunting him further when her hands inched south over his back and slowly traced the curve of his streamlined body. He arched into her, lips fluttering at the rim of her jaw.

"Talk to me," she murmured. "I want to know you."

He laughed into her neck. "I think it's the other way around. I don't even know how old you are."

"You'll be surprised," she smirked.

"A century," he guessed, obviously joking around. She made a face. "Older?"

She nodded, biting back a smile.

He blinked. "Um, four centuries?"

She wrinkled her nose in objection. "Close. My faith forbids me from saying it. My experience draws my wiseness, not my age."

"What a load of shit," he mocked. "You're can't be that old."

"I am. I recently observed my five-hundred-and-twenty-second bornday."

"Five... hundred." She was truly going to outlive him. 

She looked at him, troubled. "Does that bother you?"

"No, forget I asked," he showed his hands to terminate the conversation. "In my head, you're a normal twenty-something who never ages."

"Is that so?" Her smile did wonders to his body, setting off shivers until he couldn't feel his legs. Her hands kept gliding over his skin, tipping his thought process off the scale. He didn't want to talk; he wanted more of what her hands were doing to him.

"Ssh," she laughed quietly, obviously listening to his thoughts. "Seldom, a male's head is unpredictable. It is the vertigo stick that thinks and not the mind."

He rolled his head away from her neck to pierce his front teeth into the soft skin at the nape of her neck. A hiss left her with a light giggle. 

"Can I ask you something, Mandalorian?"

"Yes," he gulped and tried to sound polite, "please."

"There is a boy," she started in a curious voice, her golden eyes set on the misty, breaking water beneath. She did not realize his attempt to seem pleasant. "In your dreams. Who is he?"

"Me," he stated simply, resting his chin over her shoulder. Myra saw flickers of his dream screen in his mind, bothering him.

"And the couple," she continued unknowingly, only gently interested. "Your parents?"

"Yes," he breathed out. "I don't remember much of where I was born. But, we were happy until that one day."

"A family," she said, her voice edging on yearning. "What was your mother like?"

"The kind that turned the ordinary into fascination," he chuckled through tight lips, thinking back to a sweet memory of him as a child. Myra read the excitement in the young one, a smile blooming on her lips. "Even the littlest flower on the street or a simple creature—she was up like a cracker."

Myra laughed. "And?"

"I wondered how she could be that pleased in such a small home," he reflected quietly.

"I would be, too," she shrugged simply. "I would have a husband who loves me, a child I could come home to and still have love to spare."

"Really?"

"To be a mother," she sighed, almost lovesick. "It's a reward. It's a—a force of nature."

Suddenly, his hand was like his heart. Captive in hers. She rested it under her navel to show the symbol of singed off, spiral ink. He felt the warmth of her skin and the almost imperceivable slope of the tusche. 

"This one was for fertility."

He met her soft, tender gaze. "Why?"

"I was exploring spells on creation, soul generation and I," she found it hard to speak, her smile faltering. "I found out that witches can't conceive."

"As in—"

"We are not allowed to mother children," she rolled her lips into her teeth. "I wasn't surprised, it was part of our teachings."

"Oh," he released a breath. "But you want to."

"Of course, I do," she looked at him, exasperated. "I want my own. But there's no witch alive who's done it."

"Your mother..." He realized what she'd said quickly.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Myra, I'm sorry," he muttered.

She shook her head, shutting her eyes. "Every time, I-I'm hesitant to touch you."

He understood, then. She was afraid to mother children because a witch's life was too unpredictable for that sort of commitment. Which was why she danced on the razor's edge around him. Afraid of loyalty she had no worth of keeping up. 

He pressed his lips into her neck. "You won't hurt me."

"What if I do?" She rubbed a thumb into the softness of his palms. "What if I lose control?" 

His attempt at the game of pleasure was soft, glancing down at her. "Don't hold back on me this time."

Myra's resistance snapped like a fine thread. She was lunging for him and her desire increased tenfold. As he had requested, she threw caution to the wind and demolished the walls of restraint. Her mouth moved with his with an elegant fierceness, feeling a satisfying grin explode on Din's lips.

It was coarse, passionate and oh-so-perfect. Roaming hands, butting noses, swollen lips—all part of the elaborate, ideal physicality in their souls. In their search for opulent intimacy, Myra had forced an upper hand and shoved him into the precipice of the lake, allowing him to lay his wild eyes on her as her fingers edged to his lips to trace the divots. Abruptly, her slender hands caught his needy ones before they dipped south, shaking her head as if teasing him. Not there yet, her grin said. He fought back, trying to pull away, but she was ten times stronger, forcing his fingers upward and he restlessly let it take abode in the thickness of her hair. A punishment, he realized. This was punishment for his actions. He could only accept as she moved to suit her way, saying true to her play in witchcraft. 

"You are mine," she murmured, wrought in heady pleasure.

"Yours," he promised.

Din, on the other hand, apprehended the addiction that coursed through him as the cold water intensified his pleasure. When her lips met his ear for the dangerous whisper, he knew his friction was futile. He craved for this—the sharper, stormier part of Myra which profoundly left him stupefied. Her hands were stroking him, offering him sweet synchrony of fruition and indulgence while his hands were bound to her hips with no choice. Her tinsel eyes expressed sentiments; she was going to drive him insane, stop abruptly, do it all over again until his pleas were all she heard. 

His breaths scaled high, purely immersing in the intimate thrusts he welcomed. She was a drug he had a predilection to, her saintly hips inducing a new batch of trembles in his body. In the restriction of not being able to touch her, he saw her lips lift into a smirk when his hands tried to escape her iron-like vice.

Her influent spell was sending him rivulets of headiness through him, a potency that didn't end until their bodies were one once more, warm and nestled in as close as two souls could be. 

X X X

{ I literally love these two so much and excited to share these deleted scenes with you! I have so many in my bloopers chapter, this was the longest that didn't make the cut :0

QUESTION: do you want more deleted scenes or original chapters? I have one more deleted chapter if you would like to have a look :) }