Story Summary: He didn't expect to find his richest reward yet at a brothel. She didn't expect to care about anything besides her freedom.

This story has been edited to meet ffnet rating guidelines, but the original Explicit version is cross-posted on ArchiveOfOurOwn (Ao3) under the same author pen name.

Pairing: OC alien Mandalorian x OC human female slave

Warnings: This story does not follow TV-canon since I am using original characters who are simply playing in the Star Wars Mandalorian universe. This story contains depictions of sexual situations (Lemon/Citrus) between adults (mask/helmet kink, height kink, praise kink, age-difference kink, authority kink, slave kink, forced situation, with some dom/sub undertones), dubious consent if you squint, brief reference of off-screen rape/abuse, strong language, and some angst.

If any of the above triggers you, if you're not of legal age, if you don't like the pairing, or if you're uncomfortable with the sexual themes, then you should not be reading this story. Constructive criticism welcome, but I will not be blamed for your ignorance or prejudice. Flamers will face the wrong end of a blaster.

I've proved I can't be trusted with regular updates, but I will try to post every other Friday.

This story is not beta-read; therefore any spelling or grammatical errors are solely my fault. But since I'm an English major, all the correct spelling and grammar are also, happily, my fault.

Disclaimer: The Mandalorian, Star Wars, and it's universe are property of Disney, LucasArts, and other respective owners. I use Wookieepedia for information on alien species and Star Wars lore. I'll be ignoring lore from the animated TV series. Any original characters and concepts are my creation, and I should be consulted if you want to play with them.

Dedication: This is for my lovely friend, Sarah.

The Mandalorian's Reward

By Scarlet Willows

Chapter One

Another backwater planet on the outskirts of the galaxy.

Another successful bounty frozen in carbonite.

Another celebratory visit to a tired, dusty brothel.

The Mandalorian strode into the run-down cantina, towering easily over the other patrons. His well-kept beskar armor turned heads and brought unwanted attention. However, the blaster at his hip and his imposing presence assured that any trouble gave him a wide berth.

A fat, old Kitonak female, no doubt the madam of the establishment, approached the Mandalorian from a side door. She had plastered a toothy smile from ear to ear as she took in his head-to-toe beskar set. Her beady eyes glinted. He knew she was calculating the credit value of his armor, wondering how much she could overcharge him. "Greetings, Mandalorian! Welcome to-"

"Your best room for the night...and your dinner special brought to the room as well," he intoned flatly, throwing a bag of credits onto the counter. She grinned and motioned for him to follow through a doorway and upstairs. Her flabby rolls jiggled as she waddled in front of him.

"Shall I send up a few of my best girls as well, sir?" The madam rasped, a voice weathered from too many years sucking on death-sticks.

Even though he frequented brothels often, he rarely partook in their particular delights. He didn't need the distraction. But, as a bounty hunter, he had an image to uphold as a mysterious man with questionable morals. It was safer if his enemies had incorrect notions about his habits. Plus, the rooms were usually cheaper, the services more inclusive...and brothels were usually a great spot to pick up work.

But he was feeling weak, his past failures haunting him even in the face of his success.

They arrived at the room and he motioned the madam closer. She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes wide. He cleared his suddenly tight throat. "Just one girl. I'll pay for the whole night. I want her...small and...submissive," he was glad the helmet hid his warm cheeks. "She must be of age, but not too old. And above all, she must be clean and healthy. Healthy, understand?"

"Of course, sir. Only the best for our best guest. I have just the girl in mind. A shy little wisp of a thing," she winked and bustled away, an excited wiggle to her waddle.

The master suite was dim and nondescript, if a little worn, but it served his purposes. He paced until his meal was brought up - some sort of meat stew - and then he was finally able to take off his helmet. He ate, showered, sanitized his clothes, and repaired his gear before redressing in it. He sighed in relief. A belly full of home cooked food and a hot shower did wonders after weeks on the hunt.

The suns were setting on the horizon when there finally came a soft knock at his door. His heart sped up by a few beats as he replaced his helmet securely. He took a handful of seconds to breathe slowly, letting the thrill of anticipation settle in his stomach. "Enter."

"A Mandalorian is here!" squealed a Mirialan as she burst through the doors, followed closely by the madam. Many of the more experienced sex workers tittered and crowded the madam, begging to be assigned.

Yska huddled on her bed in the corner, hoping to avoid the madam's attention. Her last client had been...less than gentle...and she wasn't keen on repeating the experience any time soon. She hugged her knees to her chest, praying to disappear.

The Kitonak rubbed her flabby belly as she scanned the room, turning away overly enthusiastic girls, who grumbled bitterly. "Ah! There you are Yska!" The madam clapped her hands gleefully.

There rose a collective groan and a few jealous glares shot in the girl's direction. "C'mon, Tondah! Not the human! She's so new she could barely handle one client. How's she supposed to satisfy a warrior?" The madam shushed the Twi'lek absentmindedly.

"Hey! I've been here the longest! The creds I could make off this trick could pay off my contract and get me off this rock!" A seasoned Zabrak interjected. The Kitonak brushed away the outbursts casually as she made her way to Yska's bed.

Yska's cheeks burned. The Twi'lek was right. With only a few scant weeks of training and only one client under her belt, she wasn't sure how she could withstand the appetites of a...a warrior.

"Yska, come. You will attend the Mandalorian." Tondah motioned for her to follow to the baths.

Yska sighed, unfurling reluctantly, hiding from envious stares behind her blonde tresses. Tondah usually left the girls to bathe and do their own hair and makeup, but apparently today was different. "I know your last assignment was hard on you. You're too soft for this life. But with a beauty like yours, you'll be able to pay off your contract in no time." She filled the tub and ushered the listless girl into the warm waters. Yska was trying to staunch her shaking as the Kitonak washed her hair with her best perfumed soaps. Tondah directed the girl to clean all her delicate crevices while she readied the towels and change of clothes. "...I'm sorry to have to do this, Yska, but I'll have a riot on my hands if I don't take at least seventy-five percent of your cut to distribute it amongst the other girls. If I don't, the others will be out for blood, you understand, girl? It's not personal, it's just business."

Yska pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring for a moment. The little human had never heard of the madam docking other girls' pay to distribute. It wasn't fair that they'd reap the benefits of her hard work! After a minute of clenching her jaw, she remembered those envious glares and begrudgingly understood the madam's logic. She wasn't keen about it, but a large cut wasn't worth the long-term wrath. She'd rather make nice with these women - she didn't know how long she'd be living with them and she'd rather not have to constantly watch her back.

Staring at herself from across the mirror, the girl sat as the madam dried and styled her hair in loose waves. She chewed on her bottom lip, mind swirling. "Tondah...what is a Mandalorian? Why are all the girls excited about it?"

"You don't know, girl? What rock have you been hiding under?" She exclaimed as Yska shook her head. "Why, they are only some of the most famed warriors, mercenaries, and bounty hunters! Their beskar armor is legendary. A full set is worth more than everything in this tiny town combined. And they never take off their helmet in front of others. Never."

"So...basically no one knows what they look like?" She rubbed her arms.

"Mmm, well...not exactly." The madam turned the girl's face to apply a subtle hint of color. "A Mandalorian can come from any species. So if you can figure out the species, you have a pretty fair guess. To be a Mandalorian is a way of a religion or something."

"So, what do you think I should expect?" The girl asked with a waver in her voice. A rich, masked warrior seemed like a dangerous client, especially for one as inexperienced as she. Her stomach turned, and she bit her reddened lip.

"Well, I'm not too sure. I don't know what species he is, but he's humanoid. I doubt he will undress...and, at any rate, you won't see his face." Tondah picked out a simple white nightdress for the girl to change into. It was innocent enough while still maintaining a sort of modest allure. "He asked for a small, submissive female, so just do exactly as he tells you, Yska. Remember your pseudonym. You're pure and sweet and he's going to pay very well for you."

One last check in the mirror showed Yska's softly curled vanilla blonde mane, skin soft and fresh. Dewey eyes framed by satin lashes. Her nightgown was short and hugged her curves, complimented by a floral, lace-trimmed robe. Yska looked the picture of pure and innocent. Not far from the truth.

The madam smiled, leading her out through the jealous throng and up the stairs.

They came to the Mandalorian's room and Tondah patted the girl's arm comfortingly. Yska hadn't realized her shaking had become noticeable. "Just remember your training, girl."

Her breath fluttered and her heart pounded. Yska prayed to disappear.

The door slid open, revealing the short, chubby proprietress. The Kitonak waited at the threshold until the Mandalorian gestured her in.

A healthy - if a tad underfed - female followed her into the room, hands wringing and eyes cast downward. She stood behind her madam as if to hide, hips canted so that one leg bent demurely in front of the other. Her knees peeked from under gauzy gowns. Humanoid and fair, likely young and shy...just the way he liked. His anticipation flowed in a southern direction as his interest piqued. His beskar felt tight.

"Young, healthy, and submissive. Is she to your liking, sir? Because if not, I could-"

"No," he held up his hand, scanning the girl from head to toe. "She is...very much to my liking. Well done." He took a few steps forward and slid a few credits into the madam's itchy palm as a handsome tip. The Kitonak bowed quickly and told him to enjoy as she locked the door on her way out.

The room was quiet without the Kitonak's buffering energy. But the silence didn't bother the Mandalorian...and neither did the sudden tension. The girl remained in place, a hand rubbing her bicep, eyes glued to the floor. He was used to this reaction. He knew how intimidating a six foot ten, fully armored commando was to most civilians.

He approached her slowly, standing at his full height, the weight from his boots resounding through the wood floor. She was so small compared to him, barely coming midway up his breastplate. He watched the girl try to shrink into herself, looking anywhere but at his helmet. He felt himself thicken just thinking of all the positions he could manhandle her into. He was charmed by that innocent blush dusting her cheeks and those glistening, ripe lips, and that nervous tremor to her fine-boned frame.

He curled his gloved finger around a lock of her blonde hair - it had been tickling her pale shoulders. He didn't resist the temptation to tuck it behind her ear. He circled her slowly, towering, trailing gloved fingers along her angles. "What do I call you?" He asked flatly. The deep mechanical whir made her flinch in the stillness.

"T-tamry," she stammered. She kept her eyes down. He could smell the lie. The Mandalorian made no comment. "And your name?"

The Mandalorian shook his head slowly, remaining silent. The girl chewed her lip and squirmed. "You are an adult for your species?" He gathered her hair, scenting a whiff of the delicate perfumes from under his helmet.

She nodded, "I'm a young adult, yes."

"'Yes,' what?" He asked sternly, his thumb tracing her jugular.

"Yes...s-sir?" She whimpered, glancing at his helmet briefly, pulling her robe tighter.

"Good girl," he whispered. He leaned in as his fingers tipped her chin up to meet his masked gaze properly. She flinched, gasping quietly as she found herself face to face with his visor. He held her there for long moments, watching her chest rise and fall. "Are you afraid, Tamry?" His voice held no emotion, but his breath had sped up.

Her blue eyes flitted about, blinking back pain before finding the floor again. "Let's just took a couple weeks to recover last client." Her voice was choked.

He stood up straight. He then noticed the faint traces of healing bruises on the back of her neck. It was obvious she had tried to hide it with her curled hair. He was thankful she couldn't see the expression on his face and he kept it out of his voice when he said, "I'm not going to hurt you, Tamry."

She looked up at him then, such sad eyes under long lashes, dainty hands fiddling with lace trim. No doubt that sorrow was easily dismissed by others - perhaps even considered an act - but he'd seen that look all too often in the mirror to be fooled. He found himself wanting to kiss that look off her face. He'd never wanted to kiss a hired girl before. In fact, he'd only ever wanted to share his lips with one female...and that had been so very long ago. His eyes widened at the sudden urge...and the strength of it. So, he settled for caressing the girl's chin, running his thumb along her bottom lip. Her eyes fill with a hesitant warmth that traveled to his loins.

"On the bed," he directed. Had she been able to see his face, she'd realize his eyes were softer than the authority in his voice. But she couldn' her hesitant warmth turned cold and closed as she did as she was told. A hint of betrayal in her young eyes.

She was tiny on the massive bed. He swelled as his eyes caressed her smooth legs and delicate ankles. She crossed her legs as if she could feel the heat from his gaze. "Take your robe off," he commanded. She shyly shrugged off the gauzy material and let it pool at her elbows as he approached the bed. She shivered, either from nerves or at the chill in the room, he wasn't sure. He debated turning up the heat in the room, but he reasoned she would be warmed by the activity soon. He wagered it was mostly from nerves as her eyes remained downcast. Refusing to meet his gaze.

"Lie down on your front." His voice turned husky with anticipation. She glanced at his helmet and complied hesitantly. The girl faced away from him and folded her arms under her chest as if she was trying to disappear into the covers.

She shuddered as he knelt on the bed, lungs stuttering as cushions sank under his weight. She swallowed as he removed his right glove and caressed the back of her thigh with his warm skin. He delighted in her second shudder as his hand moved slowly under her nightie. His hand was larger than her ass cheek and the reminder of her smallness had him straining in his pants. So soft, yet firm. So warm. He squeezed and dipped his thumb under the hem of her lingerie.

Suddenly, he pulled her back by her hips. "Up," he commanded. She gasped and lifted on all fours. "No, head down, ass up." He pushed her down between the shoulder blades and savored her whimper. She arched her back instinctively. "Good girl," he praised, lifting her nightgown over her rump as he caressed her back. "And we won't be needing these anymore," his voice rumbled as he pulled her lacy panties down to her thighs.

He sighed as he took in the girl's gorgeous shape. His mouth went dry. He touched her. He watched her bite her lip and squeeze her eyes closed as she nuzzled into the covers. "Not gonna hurt you, Tamry," he said, petting her again. She whimpered, but nodded.

The Mandalorian watched the girl closely as he began to unbuckle his belts. The grind of the zipper and clink of metal reverberated loudly in the tense silence. The girl turned to peer over her shoulder curiously. He stopped. "Did I say you could look?"

She shrank and squeaked, "No, sir! I'm sorry!" She tucked her face into the pillows, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she began to tremble. Her hair fell to the side, fanning over the pillow. Fading bruises stared at him.

He sighed. "It's alright," he tried to soothe, but the words felt stiff. He wasn't in the practice of being comforting; he was in the business of intimidation. He continued to unzip. "You didn't know. You just want to be a good girl for me, don't you, Tamry?" She nodded, trying to wipe her eyes discreetly. "Try to relax."

Was she healed enough? Would he turn rough like the last guy? How many times would she have to endure being used and discarded before she could buy her freedom? Uncertainty raced in her mind, causing her muscles to tense and tremor. Fear flashed suddenly. She'd rip again without help!

"Wait, please...please," she begged, unable to stop the tears as she recalled the pain from the last time.

"What's wrong?" There seemed to be some surprise in his voice. She tried to get the tears under control, but the more she tried, the more they came unbidden. Her throat felt tight.

"Please, sir..." the girl swallowed, fighting the panic. Her grip on the sheets looked painful. "Can we...can we use s-some lubrication? I can't...I can't-"

"Oh, Tamry...shhh," he cooed. Yska regretted the taste of the fake name, but she'd had to protect herself. He tilted her hips so she could lay on her side with him behind her. "Hey, I got you. I got you. I'm not him." His gloveless hand carded through her hair as he gathered her into his arms. He shushed the girl gently as he petted, hoping his sympathy could be felt through his voice. "Your pleasure is my pleasure. Just tell me where the lube is and we will use it." He knew the issue was much deeper, but for one night, he hoped he could show this young woman that - at the very least - not every man wanted to harm her. And strangely...he briefly imagined being the man that helped her work through the rest of it... He shook the absurd thought away.

She sniffled, eyes red, and nodding a little too quickly. " the drawer." She pointed to the nightstand.

Yska shivered as her warmed skin met his cold metal, but his fingers did seem to have the relaxing effect she'd needed. The tension in her muscles melted away. Jolts of pleasure sang through her body like electricity, to her surprise. Not even Dex had touched her so well.

Yska didn't want pain, but she didn't necessarily want to enjoy this, either. She was only doing this to buy her freedom. She didn't want this life. To enjoy was to accept. She tried to stifle her moans with a bitten lip, but the Mandalorian was too observant. "Did I say you could hide your voice from me, Tamry?" He whispered softly, the speaker close to her ear.

She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. Maybe...enjoying one night wouldn't be so terrible. And really, when would she get a client who cared about her pleasure? That was almost unheard of. She decided - hesitantly - to try to treasure the small reprieve and be grateful that the Mandalorian seemed to be unselfish. She took a big breath...and let go. She was quiet, but she'd let her wall down at least. She heard him inhale through his microphone, whispering, "So soft," more to himself than anyone else.

She was glad he'd prepared her beforehand. It was definitely a stretch. She could not have taken him without having first been relaxed.

"Good girl. Breathe," he gathered her hair in his left hand, pulling her closer to him. She could feel the visor of his helmet butt up against her ear. "Just breathe." She could feel the amazement in his voice, even though it was subtle. Maybe he was even smiling. That sent a small thrill through her stomach. Yska liked the idea that she might be one of the few to put a smile on his face...even if she couldn't see it.

Contrary to her fears, it actually felt good. Better than good! It was far superior to her previous encounters and she felt herself wishing had only ever been him. A dangerous thought for a brothel girl. Don't get attached, was the mantra. Good sex did not mean feelings. But...ah, this was how it always should have felt, she thought. Stretched just this side of pain, held immobile in arms so dangerous and strong, surges of electricity pulsing up from her core.

And the Mandalorian seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as well, losing that silent stoicism. "So small... 'S been so long, too long... Such a sweet little thing for me to spoil... Such a good girl for me, aren't you, Tamry?" He growled with such an ache in his voice that she couldn't help but long to quench whatever he thirsted for.

They found ecstasy together, shaking in the aftermath.

She thought he'd pull away, clean up, and dismiss her. But he didn't.

Instead, he rolled them to the side, still snug inside her. To her surprise, he caressed her, carding fingers through her now-messy tresses as he basked in afterglow. More sentimental than she would have guessed for a battle hardened commando.

A few minutes later, their breathing calmed once more, he finally retreated...only to return seconds later to clean them both up. He didn't say anything. Just moved silently. She caught a glimpse of his nudity and his naked hand before he redressed, noting the predominant blue skin with distinct black, white, and yellow stripes. She couldn't place the species, but then that wasn't much to go on. Decidedly not human.

As she watched him situate his weapons, Yska scolded her traitorous thoughts for wishing the night would last...or the hope that she'd see the Mandalorian again. Don't get attached, she chided. She wouldn't last long in this life if her heart was broken after every orgasm.

Yska wasn't sure if the Mandalorian would want her to stay, but he'd likely want privacy now that he'd gotten what he'd paid for. She tried not to let that thought taste too sour...or let the tears sting in her eyes too obviously. Clearing her throat, Yska righted her nightgown, found her panties and robe, and tried her best impression of nonchalance.

She stood quickly, hoping her hair hid her reddened eyes enough as she bowed, saying, "Please enjoy your night, sir." She could not have crossed the room faster if she'd run. She needed to leave before she broke down again in front of this strange man.

She opened the door and just before she left...a thin whisper floated to her ears, aching and sad: "Did I say you could leave?"

Yska swore her ears were playing a trick on her. She must have heard the wind in this drafty building. There was no way he could be calling out to her with such longing laced through his speaker. She hung her head, closing the door behind her.

Look for updates on Friday's. I already have chapter two started.

I'll try to be regular, depending on how this is received.

This has been cross-posted on ArchiveOfOurOwn (Ao3) in its original Explicit form.