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“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…Let your heart be light…” Frank Sinatra croons in the background of the modest bungalow’s cozy living room.
The fire flickers in the hearth, casting warm russet and dark shadows across the wood floor. Din sighs, casting a glance out the front picture window as the snow swirls down settling into a gentle, pristine blanket. The lamp lights outside glow in the muted darkness. The clock gently chimes, striking the tenth hour, and the small boy beside him lets out a tiny snore.
Hours earlier, Grogu excitedly helped Din bake fresh chocolate chip cookies for Santa, not minding (or not noticing, Din wasn’t sure) the slightly crispy edges. The boy spent nearly 20 minutes deciding the best way to artfully arrange the sweet treats on a festive plate alongside a glass of milk. Grogu insisted on chopping a carrot into thin slices for the reindeer, while Din carefully supervised. Per their annual tradition, they both ate one cookie each while huddled close together on the couch, enjoying the rustic fire and listening to an old Christmas CD of holiday classics that they found at a neighborhood rummage sale for 25 cents.
Din tried to urge his son to rise from the worn couch for his more comfortable bed, but Grogu resisted. He wanted to stay up—not for Santa, but for Luke. The only missing piece from their little clan of three on this quiet Christmas Eve. Grogu valiantly fought against drooping eyelids, but eventually fell asleep around 9.
The clock finishes its hourly chime, and Din glances at the decorated mantle above the dancing flames. Mismatched but lovingly decorated, this is the first year three stockings were hung with such care. Earlier in the year, Luke swept into their lives like a hurricane of happiness, changing their future for the better. Din adores him. Grogu adores him. But Luke’s work as a nurse keeps him unfairly busy and often exhausted. A last-minute no-show from a colleague meant on-call Luke had to leave for the hospital that evening unexpectedly, putting a damper on their holiday activities. Din wasn’t sure when he would return.
“Someday soon we all will be together…If the fates allow...”
Deciding to end his silent vigil, Din stands and hits the stop button on the CD player resting on the built-in bookshelf beside the fireplace. He gently scoops up his son into his arms, cradling him close like he was still an infant instead of 6 years old. The floorboards creak and groan as he pads sock-clad feet across the hall and nudges open the door to Grogu’s room. He pulls back the fluffy duvet and flannel top sheet, tucking his son into bed. The man allows a tremulous smile, smoothing out the boy’s unruly curls as a slight frown mars his face, before sighing and settling into the warm, welcoming cocoon of his blankets.
Din checks on the fire, which is just glowing embers at this point, and uses the fireplace shovel to gently pat it out into ashes. He leaves the Christmas tree in the corner lit, as a guiding night light for Luke should he return home while it’s still dark. Back in his own room down the hall from Grogu’s, Din pulls on a ratty old t-shirt and plaid flannel pants before settling into bed. He stares at the ceiling, wishing for the beloved, warm body that belongs beside him. It’s a while before sleep finally comes, but when it does, he dreams of blue eyes.
Driving down the white road, Luke continues steadily at a brisk pace. He’s tempted to floor it, but decides not to chance spinning out on the frosty, slick road and becoming stranded in a snow drift. The road is a less well-traveled one, with no plows or salt trucks to turn the white, wet fluffy powder to slush. He needs to be patient—no matter how badly he aches to get home quickly to Grogu. To Din.
It’s nearly 2:30 a.m. as he finally pulls into the driveway of Din’s charming brick bungalow. The wide covered porch welcomes him in, its swing gently swaying in the wind and tufts of snow building on the railing. Luke unlocks the door as quietly as possible, depositing his bag on the floor. He tucks his boots away on the mat and hangs his coat and scarf on the hook beside Din’s handsome peacoat and Grogu’s oversized, knit green frog beanie. He smiles at the sight. He peeks into Grogu’s room, unable to see any part of the boy—just a small lump under the covers. Luke lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and shuffles into the primary bedroom, then into the ensuite bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. After he finishes, Luke exits the bathroom, treading softly lest he wake the slumbering being already in bed.
He strips quickly out of his scrubs and pulls on the first pair of sweatpants he can find in the dark, opting to go shirtless. Din acts like a furnace while sleeping, so he'd rather not wake up drenched in sweat. He turns to the bed and Luke feels his heart clench at the sight of Din sleeping on his side, hugging Luke’s pillow to his chest. His dark curls drape artfully across his forehead, and Luke’s fingers twitch with the unrestrained urge to brush them back. He shivers, the cold air of the room ushering him into bed with his lover.
Luke delicately slides his pillow out from Din’s tense grip and replaces it with his own body. Din lets out a sleepy grunt as Luke noses his way into Din’s clavicle, breathing in deeply the scent of sharp ginger and spicy cloves. He places a chaste kiss to the underside of Din’s scruffy chin, grinning as he feels the other man pull him tightly against his chest with a satisfied sigh.
“Welcome home,” Din sleepily whispers.
Luke hums and burrows closer to the somnolent susurration of Din’s steady breathing.
Of the two of them, it's typically Luke who wakes up first. Always rising with the sun as a boy, he never broke the habit—too many early mornings spent with his Uncle Owen on their farm. Din, on the other hand, would never call himself a morning person. He’s typically dead to the world right until his alarm clock goes off, and then he surfaces gradually and grumpily with the help of the much-abused snooze button.
That hasn't changed, even though Luke now shares a bed with him almost every night. What has changed is that Luke has permission to wake Din up before his alarm, in very specific circumstances. Such as if he needs to leave very early for a shift and wants to say goodbye.
This morning, however, Din wakes up first, arms wrapped tightly around Luke as they huddle closely together in the dark. It’s early—maybe 6 a.m—Din hazards a guess. He figures Grogu will "sleep in" late until at least 7, even though it’s Christmas morning, especially after staying up a bit later to wait for Luke. The aforementioned man is lying on his side facing away from Din, and doesn't move a muscle as Din points his toes in a languid stretch.
Regretfully, Din carefully extracts himself from bed for a quick trip to the bathroom. He returns swiftly, eager to catch a little more quiet time in bed, but he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight that greets him. He stands beside the bed for a minute, savoring the view as best he can in the low light—he left the covers pulled back, so Luke's bare back is exposed. The younger man curls in slightly on himself, no doubt feeling the draft, his back muscles shifting enticingly under tanned skin.
Din pulls off his t-shirt and sleep pants, then eases his naked body back under the covers and slides across the smooth sheets to close the gap between them. Luke shifts a little as Din gets into position; his shoulders tighten and then relax again, like Luke's unconscious mind knows that it's Din and that it's safe to stay asleep.
Din's hand moves to rest on Luke's hip, his broad chest and stomach pressed to Luke's warm back, and his legs tucked up behind Luke's shorter ones. For a long moment, he just lies there with his head pillowed on his bent other arm, soaking up all the sensuous skin contact. It still trips him up sometimes that he gets to touch Luke, unable to believe this angelic man returns his affections.
His cock, already stirring a little just from the sight of Luke sleeping, begins to harden against the curve of Luke's clothed ass. Luke doesn't wake up, but that's okay; Din doesn't want him to, not yet.
Holding his breath, Din lightly runs his calloused fingertips over Luke's skin, caressing the smooth dip of his waist. He flexes his fingers against Luke's hip in anticipation, sliding his hand down the outside of Luke's leg and coming back along the front of his thigh. Then he does it again, curving up the line of Luke's hamstring this time. As a personal trainer, Din knows how much effort it takes to build up and maintain this lower body strength. Despite his smaller stature, he knows Luke is stronger than he looks—and he appreciates it when Luke pushes him up against walls and holds him there.
Luke likes control in his everyday dealings, whether at work with patients or at home with Din and Grogu, and Din's usually happy to give it to him, because he gets all of Luke's attention, energy, and effort in return. But when they’re in bed—when they’re intimate, Luke likes to give up that control. He trusts Din to take care of him.
Din dips his head to press his lips to the back of Luke's neck, not kissing or licking or biting, just making contact. A soft brush of lips to skin. The room is so quiet that he can hear every breath Luke takes, hear the rustle of the sheets as he shifts in his sleep, hear the furnace kick on. Luke lets out a questioning,"Hm?"
Din increases the pressure of his lips against Luke's neck, nuzzling his nose against the warm skin. "Just giving you a proper morning salutation."
"Mmm, is that what it's called?" Luke mumbles.
Din holds still, waiting to see if Luke is halting his advances, but huffs in relief when Luke pushes back closer to him instead of further away. "Then I have your permission to proceed?" he teases.
Luke's reply is muffled slightly by his face burrowed into his pillow, but Din still hears, "I heartily give my consent."
With that positive response, Din starts to move again, running his large hand up over Luke's hipbone and around but bypassing the whole area below his navel. Luke's lower abs are too ticklish and Din has plans for Luke's cock. Later. Instead, he spreads his fingers out across Luke's taut stomach and traces a path up over his solar plexus and straight up his breastbone.
Luke likes it when Din plays with his pretty pink nipples—likes it a lot—but that's guaranteed to rile him up too quickly. So Din avoids them as he smoothes over Luke's pecs, reaching his collarbone and stroking along it before heading back down over his chest. Luke inhales deeply and sighs out the air again, long and slow, and Din feels the rise and fall of his ribcage. Luke works so hard—and for such long hours, wanting only what’s best for his patients. He must be exhausted. But Din can’t help himself.
Luke's skin is so smooth, so warm. And as much as they both get off on energetic, often desperate sex, this kind of unhurried exploration is immensely satisfying, too. Nobody else gets to have this with Luke, gets to touch him like this. It makes Din feel possessive, feel protective in a way he doesn't when Luke is fully awake and more than capable of handling himself.
Din goes back to the flare of Luke's hip, rubbing ever increasing circles until he's brushing his own hipbone with the side of his hand. Maker, Luke's ass is fantastic. Pert. Round. Din loves kissing it, licking it—grabbing greedy handfuls or digging his blunt nails in deep when they’re fucking face to face. Any chance to fondle it is a good one.
He angles his body back from Luke's just a little to give himself more room, the slick head of his cock jerking in the warm empty air between them. The temptation to start grinding against Luke is strong, but Din has to be patient. He runs his hand up Luke's back, from his curvaceous ass to the base of his neck in one long stroke over the knobs of his spine. Then he changes direction back down seamlessly, smoothing over the swell of Luke's ass and up again. He veers off along Luke's arm, careful to avoid the big, still-vivid bruise on the jut of his shoulder Din placed there himself three nights ago with a passionate nip. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the nape of Luke's neck. He lets out a long exhale, ruffling the ends of Luke's golden hair, and he hears Luke hum encouragingly.
The muscles of Luke's upper arm twitch at Din's touch, a reminder of how much latent power is contained under that soft skin. Luke can pin Din's hips to the bed with just his forearm as he goes down on him, devastatingly and teasingly slow. He can press Din's wrists into the couch cushions as he covers Din's body with his own, an immovable weight, taking what he wants. But knowing that Luke would let him up, let him go, if Din asked, only makes sex like that hotter, somehow—makes it a game they're playing together, instead of Luke leading and Din blindly following. And, right now, it's Din's turn to take.
Din slides his hand along Luke's forearm to his wrist, resting two fingers on the delicate skin. Luke's pulse isn't sleep-slow any more, but nowhere near arousal-fast yet. Din loves that he can do this, get Luke's body going with careful, unhurried movements—reverently stroking and exploring his body. He loves that Luke trusts him to do it.
He runs his fingertips down across the back of Luke's hand, and feels the tendons and bones shift as Luke's strong fingers flex. Din immediately strokes up his arm again and rests his palm on the center of Luke's chest once more. Luke lets out a soft sigh.
Din feels his cock swelling to full arousal, smearing precome against Luke's clothed ass, the sweatpants growing slightly damp. Luke shifts a little within the loose confines between Din's hand and body, making the occasional soft hum of approval. Din smiles against his skin. Everything about this careful, quiet worshipful process is enjoyable, but Luke becoming restless, slowly moving on instinct, is delicious.
The older man delivers a kiss to Luke's shoulder blade, and another to the top of his spine, and settles his head back down. He feels his bottom arm going numb, and he’ll have pins and needles when he’s done, but he can’t bring himself to care. Din uses his angular nose to trace circles against Luke’s neck, inhaling deeply, feeling his lover’s fine blond hairs tickling his face.
He slowly drags his hand down, over Luke's chest and across his stomach, and snags his finger on the elastic waistband of Luke’s sweatpants. He drags the waistband lower and lower, until Luke’s half-hard cock is exposed. Din brings his hand up to Luke's mouth, inviting him to lick at the palm and suck on each finger in turn. Din shudders as Luke's warm tongue lavishes attention on his hand. He presses another kiss to the nape of Luke's neck, a smile twitching beneath his mustache, and then pulls his hand away and reaches around to close his spit-slick hand around Luke's lovely, flushed cock.
Pressed intimately together, Din can feel, as well as hear, Luke's reaction: a full body shiver, a sharp intake of breath, and then a low, sultry moan. There's an intense level of intimacy to it all. Din holds still, though he can't stop his cock from jerking against Luke’s round, enticing bottom. A throaty chuckle reaches his ears as clever fingers reach back and thread themselves into his hair, gently tugging.
“That's a good morning greeting, if I ever felt one,” Luke purrs. “You gonna finish what you've started?”
Din chuckles, then groans as Luke tightens his grip in his curls before stroking his scalp. “How can I stop now? Especially when you look prettier than any present wrapped under the tree.”
He feels Luke begin to move his hips in search of more friction, and Din lets him move mindlessly for a little while, sliding his dick into the motionless circle of Din's fingers and thumb before pushing his ass against Din's own erection. Din takes over, tightening his grip and easing Luke’s velvet-smooth foreskin up over the head with precome to help slick the way.
Luke moans again, louder this time, arching his back and giving Din's cock an extra jolt of rough pressure against the sweatpants. Din hums his pleasure into Luke's skin, and revels in the tremble that runs through Luke. He pauses in his ministrations to roughly haul Luke’s sweatpants all the way down past his knees, leaving his glorious ass completely bare to him.
Din manages to hold off on moving his own hips until Luke is fully hard in his hand. Finally, finally, he starts a hard grind against Luke's ass—just slow, rhythmic, rocking thrusts to begin with. Luke curses under his breath. Din grins as he hears “Fuck” whispered into Luke’s pillow.
Sometimes it's his own urgency, his own need to come, that gets Din speeding things up. Today, this peaceful Christmas morning though, it's Luke turning his head to gasp up at the coffered ceiling as Din slides his thumb over Luke's slit on the upstroke.
"Fuck," Luke repeats, his voice raspy. "C'mon, Din, give it to me."
Din licks at the side of Luke's neck, and says, "As you wish."
He collects excess precome drooling from the tip of Luke's cock and then reaches down to spread it along the crease of Luke's ass and thighs, fingertips preparing the way for his cock. Din eases his way in between Luke's ass cheeks, gliding the twitching head of his cock over Luke's fluttering hole and perineum.
"Fuck, yes," Din breathes, as he drags his cock teasingly through the crease a few times, then sinks between Luke's clenched thighs. His cock pushing against Luke's balls, and Luke quivers against and around him.
"Yeah, do it," Luke mumbles, moving his hand to take over for Din as he pushes into his own tight grasp.
Din begins to move his hips again, slow and firm, and reaches back around to lay his hand on top of his lover’s. Luke's breath hitches at the extra pressure around the shaft of his cock. He thrusts forward into their combined grip, and the drag against his own cock makes Din groan helplessly.
They both begin panting as their exertion increases. Din licks at the sweaty, hyper-sensitized skin of Luke’s shoulder, as he continues grinding in, in, in, his heavy balls slapping against Luke’s ass. His cock now effortlessly sliding between Luke's sculpted legs, leaving a messy trail of wetness in its wake. He lays open-mouthed kisses against Luke's back and neck, unable to suck hard or bite down while he’s lost in the rhythm of their bodies.
Luke turns his head back as far as he’s able to and uses the hand clenched in Din’s curls to pull him forward for a fierce, sloppy kiss. A tremor runs through Luke’s body as he pulls back with a gasp, burrowing his face into his pillow. Luke releases a high-pitched keen as Din’s hand leaves his cock and travels upward to pull and pluck at his nipples. Din revels in the broken cry Luke emits.
“Ohhhh, unnnh. F-fuck! Din,” Luke keens. “Please.”
Now, Luke increases the cadence of his hips, jolting into the circle of his hand, faster and faster—and Din goes along for the ride. Din groans in ecstasy as he fucks harder against Luke. His thighs are warm and tight, so gloriously slick as Din's cock rubs underneath Luke's own tightening balls.
"Shit, Luke, you feel— You feel—love it, love you," Din says, overcome by being wrapped around him so completely. It's far from the first time they've done this but it never seems to get less intense—no matter what way they come together. Din's hand travels from Luke's nipples back down to his hip, gripping tightly enough to bruise.
"Yes," Luke says huskily with a drawn-out exhalation, and Din doesn't need to ask if he's close. With the way Luke is filling up every one of his senses, he already knows the answer.
They keep working in perfect sync, pressed together but slippery with sweat and precome, until Luke's muscles tense up, back arching, and he goes still except for the desperate motion of his hand. Din tightens his grip around Luke's hips, fucking up harder and harder, tilting his hips to put extra pressure on Luke's perineum. A few seconds later, Luke comes, spilling over his hand and groaning long and low as he bucks wildly forward. His trembling thighs squeeze Din's cock in an unyielding clench—Din spurts rope after rope of come all over Luke's hole, balls and thighs, shaking uncontrollably, muffling his loud, incoherent grunts against Luke's skin as he curls in even closer.
Din slides his vibrating hand up to press over Luke's heart, too overwhelmed to say anything. He can picture what Luke's nipples must look like, flushed and stiffened. Luke's hand closes that short distance to cover Din's, intertwining their fingers. It's comfort and communication both, and Din exhales heavily in satisfaction against Luke's back. He trails their clasped hands down Luke's abdomen, swiping fingers through their combined release. Din separates his hand from Luke's to rub the seed into Luke's skin, relishing the feel of the cooling wetness and caresses the skin just below his lover's navel.
Eventually, Din struggles into an upright position, bracing an arm over Luke and gently sweeps golden strands of hair away from his face with his clean hand. Luke arches his back, pushing into the movement, because he loves to be worshipped, stroked, and kissed—Din telling him how precious he is, how pretty he is, how loved he is.
“Your bed head is adorable,” Din says, observing Luke’s hair going in every direction.
Luke pouts. Voice still rough, he asks, "And whose fault is that?"
"You helped," Din points out, smiling to himself. “Are you really complaining?"
"I'm really not." Luke smirks. He lifts his head to glance at the clock behind Din on the nightstand. “Think we have enough time for a shower before Grogu wakes up?”
Din looks over his shoulder at the clock himself and shrugs. Probably not. The movement separates their bodies, Din's softened cock sliding free from the confines of Luke's thighs. He stares at the sight of his come slipping down Luke's thighs and licks his lips. He leans down to press his forehead firmly against Luke’s, both their eyes fluttering shut. They breathe slowly together, relishing the warm air shared between them.
Knock, knock! Knock, knock!
Light rapping at their door causes their eyes to snap open in surprise.
A small voice calls out from behind the door. “Buir? Are you awake? Can we open presents now?”
Din gives Luke a helpless shrug, dragging himself out of bed, but not before pressing one more kiss to Luke’s forehead. “Guess we’re out of time,” he whispers.
More loudly, he calls back to his son. “I’ll be out in a few minutes, ad’ika.”
Din watches unabashedly as Luke stretches his arms above his head and climbs out of bed after discarding the soiled sweatpants. He pushes Luke toward the ensuite bathroom. "Take a shower. I'll make coffee and keep Grogu busy."
The blond man smiles at his lover. "I'll be quick. You, uh, may want to clean off a little before you step out," Luke comments, hungrily eyeing his appearance from head to toe, before sauntering into the bathroom.
Din fondly rolls his eyes, but grabs a wet washcloth to clean himself as best he can while Luke steps into the shower. He dresses in his abandoned sleep pants and t-shirt before shuffling into the hallway. His son is bouncing on his toes, his curls are a riotous mess and he jumps forward to wrap his arms around Din.
“Merry Christmas, buir!” Grogu sing-songs.
Din ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his son’s forehead. “Merry Christmas, Grogu. Let me make some coffee and we'll pop the cinnamon rolls into the oven."
They work together quietly in the kitchen, preparing a sweet breakfast treat. Grogu is a little heavy-handed with the icing after the cinnamon rolls come out of the oven, watching eagerly as the icing melts into all the warm nooks and crannies. The coffee pot gurgles and putters. Luke, dressed in skintight black leggings and an oversized dark green hoodie the he stole from Din, stands in the kitchen doorway with a big grin on his face. Din smiles back at him and nudges Grogu to look.
Grogu’s eyes widen excitedly at Luke's appearance and throws himself into Luke's arms. "Luke, you're home!"
Luke laughs with delight and swings the boy around in a circle. "Merry Christmas, Grogu! I wouldn't miss this for the world. Shall we see if Santa brought you any presents?”
Grogu wiggles out of Luke's arms and he careens down the hall to investigate the tree. Din chuckles and hands a steaming cup of coffee to Luke. They follow Grogu down the hallway at a more sedate pace.
As Grogu begins tearing into the colorfully wrapped packages beneath the tree, Luke leans into Din with a happy sigh. Din hooks his chin over Luke's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.
“You know, I’ve been so busy with work this month, I didn’t have time to get you a present,” Luke murmurs apologetically.
Din gently squeezes his hip in a loving caress. Luke turns to look back at him. He stares into Luke’s oh-so-blue eyes and earnestly says, “You’re my gift this year.”