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A man with that many callouses shouldn’t be able to be so gentle.
The thought floats through Luke’s mind as he breathlessly watches Han kiss down his torso (even the man’s lips are chapped. Honestly, doesn’t he know how to take care of himself? Luke reminds himself for the 100000th time that he needs to tell Han how to moisturize), across his hips (a thumb flicks over the slight ridge of his hip bone, he can feel that tough skin edge over his own too-smooth skin and it tingles enough to make his hips jump ever so slightly), and he almost wants to laugh. He can practically hear some imaginary version of Han getting annoyed at the implication he can’t be gentle. Or, depending on his mood, that he’s never gentle; he’s a scary smuggler from the darkest pits of space, farmboy, and don’t you forget it.
The room’s heavy. Even with Vader dead, even with the Empire falling faster and faster each day, the memories of every lost rebel, every lost innocent haunts the remaining forces, and Luke can feel it thick around them. Han goes out of his way to pretend he doesn’t connect to anyone, to pretend he has no one but Chewie, but Luke knows the truth. It’s hard not to notice, honestly. He bleeds with a heart bigger than his chest, and Luke wishes he could ease the pain. The only method he’s been offered is the one he gives now, laying before the smuggler, quietly watching the slow exploration of his body.
Han’s lips ghost over the hip bone he’d thumbed just a few seconds before, and he nips at the waistband of Luke’s simple sleeping pants, pulling them down just an inch or two, just enough to be able to nuzzle at the soft curl of hair that reaches for his navel. Luke laces his fingers through Han’s hair, letting out a soft hum. Another kiss, another soft nibble, and then Han’s looking at him with wide, almost scared eyes, shaking his head slightly.
“You okay?” Luke whispers.
“No,” Han replies, voice ragged. There’s the hint of tears at the edges of his eyes, and he swallows. “Luke. I can’t- not this. Not now.”
Luke nods and reaches for him instead, coaxing him up and into his arms, and settles with Han laying his head on the center of Luke’s chest. He cards his fingers through the smuggler’s hair, threading as much peace and quiet into each movement as he can. He’d promised Han a while ago that he wouldn’t use the Force to read his mind (if he could help it, of course) or anything “just… too weird”, as Han had put it, but a little calming aura wasn’t really cheating, Luke would argue.
He isn’t surprised when Han quietly begins to cry, softly sobbing into his chest. He tries not to think about the tears pooling in his breastbone or tracing their (oddly ticklish) way down his ribs and stomach; he focuses all his energy into feeling peace and quiet, into just how soft Han’s hair is, how dark it is, how lovely it is. But Luke’s a sponge, and there’s so much sadness these days that he can’t help the tears welling up in his eyes too.
Luke doesn’t raise a hand to wipe them away as they fall. Instead, he pulls Han tighter and waits, sniffing sadly every few minutes. So many lives lost. So much had happened. So much had changed, and continues to change, and though he feels overwhelmed he knows it has to and he has to help it. He knows this is their last night together for a long time, perhaps forever. He knows it may be a long time before he sees Han Solo again, but that’s the work of a Jedi, isn’t it? Leaving behind family? Leaving behind friends?
Some annoying voice in the back of his head mutters that it’s a shame this is how they’re spending their last free night, but honestly, Luke wouldn’t change it for the world. A man with that many callouses shouldn’t be gentle, but he is. He desperately is, and if Luke is treasured enough to see that, he’ll take it on gladly.
They sleep fitfully together, never speaking, simply wrapping their limbs around the other as they toss through the night. When Luke wakes, Han is, as always, already gone, but something in the air feels lighter. Softer. A silent thank you.
“Always,” Luke mutters into the light, smiling.