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AS TATOOINE SHRUNK into a small beige speck against a black expanse, left behind in the dust of the Millennium Falcon, young Luke Skywalker could not help but feel that he was looking through the wrong side of the glass.
It hadn’t started out that way. When Luke had set forth initially, he had been guided by a seemingly unwavering faith in his own resilience. Faith in himself, that he would not waste precious time dwelling on his recent departure from Tatooine, from his home, his family and all that he knew. Faith that now, at the most critical point in his life, he had matured enough to temper his emotions, however temporarily, and to remain focused solely on the task at hand. Unfortunately for Luke, it was only a matter of hours before the adrenaline produced amidst his most recent escapade had dissipated, giving way to mental clarity, and eventually to the harsh realisation that life, as he had once known it, would never be the same again.
Luke kicked himself each time he felt the urge to glance back, to see Tatooine one last time. He knew that empty comfort would do him no good. What he really needed, in order to properly dress the fresh wounds inflicted by his previous losses, was the imminent victory ahead of him.
He could not fail; would not fail. But still his chest ached, and his eyes stung, and the weight of loss hung heavier over his head by the minute, far too obvious to be ignored.
Twelve hours in hyperspace ought to have passed Luke right by, but as it was, his underlying distress was doing well to drag time out much longer than was needed. He'd spent almost the entire journey thus far trialling any and all activities that might have distracted him from his overwhelming, intrusive thoughts. But Luke became bored with chess and training quickly. He grew erratic, unfocused and endlessly irritated. He irritated even himself, being as useless as he then was. Luke was all but relieved when his eyes started growing heavy, and he knew it was finally time to rest. Perhaps, with any luck, resigning himself to a full night’s sleep would mend his noisy, addled mind, and strengthen him come morning.
It was certainly worth a try.
Luke’s footsteps echoed up and down each long hallway he passed through, as he tried to remember where the crew’s quarters were, amongst the compact maze of metal walls, buzzing panels and flashing lights that made up the Falcon’s interior. To Luke, the ship felt eerily empty, and all around quite cold. Even with passengers on board, the vessel felt close enough to daunting — particularly when one was attempting to navigate its halls blindly, as he was. Luke, who was typically used to a smaller craft, began to wonder if perhaps he was just feeling displaced. Before he could dwell on that, however, he ran rather conveniently into the door he had been searching for.
Perhaps just as inconveniently, the door was locked. Luke fiddled with the handle and fingered the lock for a little while before letting his shoulders slump in defeat. He did not want to walk back to the main hold to look for a key, and he certainly did not want to have to ask Han Solo for help. Not when he was in a mood like this. He’d already put up with enough arrogance and offensive behaviour for one day. Luke gave the door handle one more jostle for good measure, then angled his foot as though to turn and spin on his heel, when he felt a large hand clamp down abruptly upon his shoulder. Startled, Luke turned and nearly tripped back into the door.
When he looked up, he was struck by immediate disappointment.
“Looking for this?” Han held up a large ring of keys and jangled it obnoxiously in Luke’s face. Luke didn’t try to mask his unamused grimace.
“Yeah,” Luke reached out for the keyring, “thanks.”
“No problem,” Han grinned smugly as he snatched the keyring away. He selected a small silver key from the bunch and slid it neatly into the keyhole, before pushing the door open with a resounding squeak, and holding it as Luke stepped inside.
The room was cramped in contrast to what Luke had anticipated, but he didn’t mind much. Attached to each opposite wall were two rows of beds, allowing space for four persons in total. At the far side of the room, there was a small cabinet for storage. The top row's beds were unmade, miscellaneous items of clothing hanging from the posts at either end. Below them, two neat beds sat undisturbed. They were very small and plain, but when Luke approached the bed on the left and tested it with his palm, the mattress felt surprisingly well-cushioned, for which he was more than grateful. He would have been content with bare netting, had it been offered to him. Though, he couldn’t help but smile to himself at the thought of sleeping in a real bed after the long, gruelling day prior.
Luke perked up when he heard the door click shut, assuming Han had left him to rest. But oddly enough, Han was still inside, leaning against the door and twirling the keyring about his finger. What's more, he still had that stupid, smug look on his face. Luke felt like telling him to get lost, but it felt sort of rude, considering that Luke was a guest aboard Han’s ship, and not the other way around. Besides, Luke had already gotten lost on board the Falcon, several times — so it would have been incredibly hypocritical. Instead, he gave Han a weird little smile with the corner of his mouth, and tried to lean cooly against the bedframe closest to him, only to end up wincing in discomfort when the metal jabbed at his spine.
Han just laughed, “fitting in alright, then?”
“I am, thank you,” Luke swallowed, “it’s a nice ship. I mean, it’s great. It’s a really great ship,” he tried not to sound too awkward when he said, “it’s just what we needed.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Han folded his arms and took a few steps forward, surveying the room, “it’s strange to have guests again. You know, usually it’s just me and Chewie in here,” he whispered behind his open hand, as though the Wookiee would somehow hear him, “and you can’t even begin to imagine the snoring.”
Luke managed to laugh at this, but the sound came out weak, hoarse and lacking in enthusiasm. His eyelids were starting to feel like lead, and blinking was fast becoming a chore, instead of an impulse. He yawned, hoping Han might take a hint and swagger on back to the main hold — but he didn’t.
“You must be really beat, huh?”
“Super tired, yeah.”
“Well, I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancier than this,” Han had come to lean beside Luke, the bedframe creaking under the weight of them both, “it's no five-star accommodation, I know.”
“It’s okay, really,” Luke was quick to reassure him. For all his annoyance, he did not want to come across as ungrateful, “I’m just looking forward to a proper night’s sleep.”
“Of course you are,” said Han, rather quietly. He smiled again, this time softer and slyer, and gave Luke what appeared to be a quick once-over. At this, Luke’s weary eyes twitched momentarily back to attention. Something was a little bit off about Han. Luke just couldn’t place it. He couldn’t have been sizing Luke up for a fight. Could he? It wasn’t as though, in the twenty-odd hours they had known one another, Han had given Luke any reason at all to trust him. He was a stranger, and for all Luke knew, a real scoundrel. The hairs on the back of Luke’s neck stood up rather suddenly, and his eyes ticked away from Han’s to the door, then back again. Han was standing far closer than he had been before. He was so close, in fact, that Luke would have to push past him if he wanted to exit. How did that even happen?
“Bet you’re missing home already,” Han's voice cut through the silence and roused Luke from his fantasy.
“Not at all, actually,” said Luke, straightening up. He wasn’t too much shorter than Han, if he didn’t slouch. What was he so afraid of? “I’ve got a mission to complete. That’s all I’m worried about, now.”
Han gave a short, sharp laugh, “only heard that one about a thousand times before.”
“I’m sure you have,” Luke bit back, his irritation swiftly coming to a head, “but you don’t know me — hell, you don’t know the first thing about me!”
“Cool your jets, kid!” Han raised his hands above his head, sarcasm dripping from his tongue as he spoke, “I only found your confidence rather endearing.”
Luke just huffed and stared down at his feet. What would Han know about Luke’s mission, anyway? Luke didn’t expect somebody like him to understand. The silence between them grew steadily awkward. Eventually, Han gave up, and dropped the act with a sigh.
“Hey, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m sure you’re a very capable guy,” he said, “I’m just joking around. That’s what I do.”
Luke relaxed, but his jaw remained set with frustration, as Han squeezed his arm and leant in closer, “you go on missions, and I joke around,” he winked, “what a duo, huh?”
Luke’s mouth twisted against a smile. Han had an irritating, slimy charisma about him that Luke despised — partly because he himself could feel it, crawling under his skin, barging brutishly past his weak defences. Luke wished that he had the strength enough to resist it. But he didn’t. Luke cracked the smile, and Han punched him playfully.
“Atta boy.”
The moment passed, and soon Luke’s face had fallen again. It was getting very hot inside the small, stuffy room, and there wasn’t much space between, nor surrounding, the two men. The thin cotton of Luke’s shirt was starting to stick to his skin. His entire body ached for sleep.
“Man, I’m a mess,” he muttered under his breath, turning away.
But Han caught him by the shoulders.
“Why do you say that?” He looked Luke up and down.
There was real curiosity on Han’s face — curiosity that hadn’t been there before. Han's eyes probed at Luke’s expression, which didn’t offer up much information. Luke only shrugged.
“I dunno.”
“You’re an eloquent kid, aren’t you?”
Luke noticed that Han’s fingers had begun moving circles over his neck, just past where his collar began, where his bare skin was exposed. He swallowed, feeling more confused than anything. Han’s other hand was following a crease along his shirt, down his collarbone to his pectoral. Luke caught his wrist.
“You’re a touchy guy, aren’t you?” Luke asked, mimicking Han’s previous quip.
He regretted it as soon as he said it. Luke hadn't meant for his voice to drop so suggestively — he had surprised even himself. His tone was foreign and unfamiliar. Luke could feel his face flushing. Why had he said it like that?
Luke watched as Han took a serious pause, during which he appeared to make a definite decision. Without another word, Han tilted his head and began to lean in slowly, before pressing his face right into the curve of Luke’s neck. Luke froze up, his body running hot all over. He felt Han inhale steadily. On the exhale, his lips were moving against the sweaty skin of Luke’s throat, and that was when everything changed.
Perhaps due in part to shock, Luke released his grip on Han’s wrist, and the freed hand immediately found purchase at the back of Luke’s neck. Luke knew exactly what was coming, when Han resurfaced, both hands sliding into his sandy hair to hold his head in place, and yet for whatever number of irrelevant reasons, he did nothing at all to stop him.
Han leant in again, this time turning Luke’s face up towards him, and planted a firm kiss to his lips. Luke made no effort to close his mouth, which had fallen open naturally, as Han kissed him even deeper. With a low hum, he sucked the plump flesh of Luke’s bottom lip between his teeth and chewed gently. Caught off guard, Luke yelped, and Han pulled away a few short inches. The air felt colder against Luke’s mouth than it had before. Han grinned.
“Bit too touchy for you, Luke?”
Wide-eyed and dumbfounded, Luke shook his head. He licked his lips without thinking, fascinated by the wet residue Han had left behind. He'd never kissed anybody like that before. Luke wanted to kiss Han again, if only to accurately commit the exciting new sensation to memory. He figured that it was only typical of his adventurous nature. There wasn't any harm in that, at all.
Rational thought still temporarily disregarded, Luke followed his curiosity and leant up for a second kiss. This time, per Luke’s unwitting invitation, Han was bolder. Luke couldn’t have turned his head away if he tried. Han’s skin was rough and warm where their faces met, and the hold he had established on Luke’s hair was so intense, so unyielding, Luke almost wondered if he meant to rip it out altogether. Han kissed Luke like he'd been starved of touch his whole life, but Luke knew that he hadn't. His kisses were greedy and impolite. Luke didn’t quite know what to make of it, when he came away panting.
Han’s hands fell away from Luke’s face to his collar, then slid down the front of his body and came to rest again at his waist. No words passed between them. Han’s eyes, dark and lidded, raked across Luke’s body, the sleazy look on his face betraying his shameless, perverted intentions. Part of Luke found the whole thing rather scummy, but another found it endlessly intriguing. I just want to know what he’s going to do next…
Luke knew that the time was fast approaching for a decision of his own to be made.
Han closed in once more to kiss up Luke’s jaw to the lobe of his ear, and for the first time, Luke engaged himself physically in response, reaching up to hold Han’s forearms while he lent willingly into every sensation. To Han, this must have constituted Luke’s permission to suck sharply at the soft skin beneath his ear. Luke, learning quickly as ever, did not yelp nor pull away. Instead, he shut his eyes, squeezed Han’s arms and muttered, unthinking, “that feels good.”
And it did feel good. It was practically the furthest length possible he could have ventured from a lie. Every point of pressure Han applied to his flesh felt like a cunning attempt at seduction — and it was working, damn it! Han was a good-looking fellow, of course, but Luke hadn’t yet acquired the time nor patience to actually, thoroughly consider this. If anything, he thought Han had quite an ugly personality. Not at all the sort of guy Luke would want to go around with. It was only now, when Luke was able to feel Han’s hands wandering across his body, studying his form like a map, without also having to endure his constant, grating commentary, that the aforementioned vexation gave way to attraction, and Luke realised just how badly he’d been wanting an opportunity like this to come along.
Luke’s decision had already been made. There was no debate, no prolonged internal dialogue, no need to ask ‘should I?’ or ‘shouldn’t I?’. There was only a singular, physical urgency, rattling at the door behind which Luke's innermost desires lurked, and pleading with his body in desperation — do something! And do something, Luke would. After all, with any luck, a good, quick shag to precede what was shaping up to be the most significant event of his life thus far, would provide him with the boldness and the courage enough to succeed.
Well, it was certainly worth a try.
“You want more?” Han mouthed at Luke’s upper jaw. His voice was low and breathy when he spoke, and Luke wondered briefly if he was concerned about being found out. This certainly wasn’t the most practical context in which to be making love, it was true. But Luke allowed the thought to pass him by with ease. Their business was their business, after all — and they were already so far gone.
“Yeah,” said Luke, trying to keep his cool, “do whatever you like.”
Han cocked his eyebrow in Luke’s direction and laughed, “you sure about that?”
“Why not?” Luke, who hadn’t a clue what he was doing, bit his lip and maintained his unbothered facade. “I’m not some sort of prude.”
“I never insinuated that you were.”
“What’s the matter then, huh?” Luke traced a finger idly along Han’s arm. He wasn’t a tease by nature, but Han sure seemed to like his tone. Luke wondered if Han usually went for a type. I’ve never considered myself to be a ‘type’, before.
“Nothing,” sighed Han, resigning with a cunning smile, “I was just making sure.”
And just like that, Han was making a bold grab for Luke’s arse through the thick fabric of his trousers. Luke could have assumed this was coming, considering all the feeling-up he’d been subjected to already, but it had still taken him by surprise. There was nowhere to hide but within another kiss, and Han was offering, so Luke accepted. The feeling of tongues passing over each other took Luke only a short time to acclimate to. If anything, he found it enjoyable. He liked the heat, the thrill, the taste.
In fact, ‘enjoyable’ didn’t do justice to the grit of it all — Luke found it hot.
Luke hardly ever felt truly hot, not even when he touched himself. Perhaps it was only because Han was such an intense, imposing person, but his mere presence had opened Luke up to an entirely novel array of sensations, his body responding enthusiastically to every new touch. The possibilities seemed endless. And all of them at Luke’s fingertips! There was so much flesh yet untouched, so much of Han for Luke to uncover, and vice versa. The tired-out, routine sensation of sliding a hand into his slacks after a long day tending the farm could never have compared to the exhilaration Luke felt, as he slipped his hands under Han’s collar, and parted the cloth to reveal the bare, tanned skin beneath. At the same time, Han’s hands fumbled with the buckle of Luke’s belt.
Gee, he thought, as he sucked a mark into Han’s throat, what a day this is shaping up to be.
Han reached into the front of Luke’s pants to touch him, to feel how hard he was and, consequently, to tear a visceral shudder from his body. Being now almost two days neglected, the sensation of being handled directly was stronger, warmer and leagues more fulfilling. What’s more, Luke found that being touched by another person was far more exhilarating than masturbating alone. Something so simple transformed into something so tantalising. It made his heart race. It was almost overwhelming — almost, but not quite.
“Can I touch you?” Luke, who was already pinching the smooth flesh of Han’s shoulder between his fingers, and tugging at the sweaty ends of his hair, but still felt like a somewhat passive participant, choked out.
“Later,” dismissed Han, removing his hand and fiddling some more with Luke’s clothing, tugging at his pants as though he meant to remove them entirely. Luke’s stomach fluttered excitedly, and his palms began to sweat (more than they already were). Is he going to suck me off? That had certainly never happened to Luke before. Han swept Luke’s speculative inner-tangent away with a harsh kiss on the mouth, managing to ease his trousers halfway down his legs to his knees. Luke tried not to worry too much about matching Han’s efforts. The ball was already beginning to roll, and the hill was obviously steeper than Luke had anticipated. Han knew what he was doing. Luke just had to trust him.
But of course, Luke was already expecting Han to drop to his knees — he’d just assumed that was how this sort of thing went. So, when Han stayed put, kissed him a little harder, then gripped him firmly around the hips and encouraged him to turn and face the metal bedpost behind him, he was obviously suspicious. Complying warily, Luke peered back over his shoulder in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on. Han was kissing sweat away from the back of Luke’s neck, their bodies pressed neatly together. When he reached Luke’s jaw, he leant in to kiss beneath his ear again. Luke shivered. He liked that.
“I hope you ain’t a romantic, kid,” huffed Han, grinning.
“Why’s that?” Asked Luke, straining his neck to see Han’s face, “what are you gonna do to me?”
“Nothing too charming,” Han replied, sucking two fingers into his mouth, and then coming away with a thick glob of saliva running down past his knuckles. Luke scrunched his face up.
“You wanna get off?”
Luke nodded, looking on nervously as Han’s fingers disappeared from his eyeline.
“Then trust me,” he took Luke’s face in his free hand and turned his head back against the metal post, sliding the other hand between them and groping firmly at his arse as he whispered, “you’re gonna get off.”
This blatant vagueness didn’t make Luke nervous — not at first. If anything, the prolonged element of mystery was exciting to him. He wondered, was all sex like this? Dangerous, perverse. Maybe it was just Han. Luke didn’t mind. That was, not until Han’s fingers (which had been digging into the meat of his arse with an obviously pre-determined intent) changed their course, as it were, and prodded at Luke in what seemed to be an unannounced attempt at penetrating his body. This time, Luke really yelped, and reached around to seize Han by the wrist once again.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Han eased away from Luke’s awkward grasp, “I thought you said you trusted me.”
“I do,” blurted Luke, suddenly defensive.
“Then will you please relax?” Han held him fast by the hip, as though Luke was going to turn and run away at any moment, “we’re on a bit of a tight schedule, here.”
Luke ducked his head to hide, heat growing in his cheeks. He did trust Han. Or at least, he trusted that Han knew how to make him come. But he couldn’t comprehend how something so intrusive could possibly feel even remotely pleasant. That said, Luke had been proven wrong before, and even Han deserved a second chance to surprise him. Luke bit his lip and braced himself once again.
“Just do it slowly.”
Han only chuckled and slid his fingers between Luke’s cheeks again, this time with a touch (but only a touch) more consideration. Luke found the feeling of the initial penetration very strange, and even rather unpleasant. He’d had worse, of course. It was simply that the invasive concept of Han's fingers working their way inside of his body was considerably unappealing to him. It was around the stretch of Han’s knuckle that Luke’s body jerked in something akin to pain, and Han, who still somehow possessed the benefit of Luke’s doubt, held him tightly as he pushed forth past the worst of it.
Luke remained unconvinced.
“I don’t get it,” he squirmed, “you do this regularly? Why?”
“Would you just wait a second?” Han retorted.
“I’m done with ‘waiting a second’—”
But Han had figured something out. Something Luke was sure he’d done a thousand times before, but no less wonderful. His two busy fingers, making good use of their somewhat restrictive position, twisted and curled forwards inside of Luke, and the entire situation was turned on its head. This simple action produced a jolt of energy that spiked throughout Luke’s entire body, and to his astonishment, he found himself reeling with pleasure at the feeling. It was hot and sharp and quick — the sort of kick Luke loved to get. It was totally unreal, in a way.
And then Han did it again.
“Shit,” managed Luke, kicking a leg out.
And then Han did it again. And again, this time firm and slow and almost circular, rotating his fingers so that they would press rhythmically against Luke’s prostate at every pass. Luke could very well have forgotten where he was, while he attempted to adapt to the dozen new sensations he was experiencing, all at once. Grounding himself was difficult, only because he didn’t want to. It just felt so incredibly good, he longed to get lost in it. But once the short-term recency of the initial act had fallen away, Luke jumped at the chance to gather himself and readjust. He secured his grip against the bedposts anew, two sweaty hands supporting his weight. The intensity of the dull, deep-seated pleasure tempted him, like a devil on his shoulder, to collapse into the bunk before him, and take Han tumbling down with him. But Luke’s determination kept him standing, legs trembling as they were.
Needless to say, he had been pleasantly surprised.
Han had made short work of his nerves, too. Any previous apprehension had been almost totally eradicated. It was as though a hand had reached into his soul and crushed his coy, bashful veneer in one fell swoop, leaving only desperate, sweaty, passionate Luke. And that was who he was. Luke still knew his name, he still knew where he was — but if somebody had waltzed into the room right then and asked him, he wouldn't have been able to answer for the life of him.
Luckily, Han didn’t have any questions for Luke. It was all hands-on from there on out. Luke could hear Han grunting heavily behind him as their bodies moved together in short, punchy jolts. The exact mechanics of this rhythm had puzzled Luke at first, but it wasn’t long until the obvious was revealed. Han’s hand had long since dropped away from Luke’s hip, and was now sliding back and forth where their bodies met, hot and sticky and practically glued together. Luke’s stomach turned. He’s touching himself. For some reason, the thought made him wild. He became obsessed with the desire to touch Han with his own hands. It bothered Luke that he could only imagine the feeling, but it excited him, nonetheless. The hard metal pressing against his skull made his temple ache, but Luke didn’t care. There was a much lovelier ache building between his legs, anyway.
Though, lovely as it was, Luke couldn’t possibly allow matters to conclude so quickly. Finishing now would have been woefully anticlimactic. Furthermore, it would have been embarrassing. Luke might have been a hopeless first-timer, but he didn’t want Han to know that! Even if he had most likely already surmised that Luke was a virgin, he still refused to give his dignity up any further. And that meant avoiding an untimely defeat, at all costs.
But Han was making this very difficult. When Luke tried to manoeuvre his body, hoping to gently steer Han’s fingers off course, and thus delay his looming orgasm, Han just curled them harder, and pressed them deep inside of his body. When he tried to lean away from Han, whose breath was hot and rough against Luke’s ear, Han leant right back in again, pressing his open mouth against Luke’s soft skin and huffing with exertion. Luke found this so arousing, he literally had to take a full breath in and bite his cheek, just to stop himself from faltering right there. It was an admirable effort, but it was far from effective. Luke could feel his knees beginning to weaken, his flesh beading perspiration from head to toe. Humiliation coloured his cheeks as he grappled with his fate. He was going to come.
“Wait,” he gasped, suddenly mortified, “slow down.”
He could have guessed that Han would laugh at him, and laugh he did. It didn’t matter how much Luke protested. He was already done for. And somehow, the crushing shame that enveloped Luke, as he gave in reluctantly to the base, impulsive will of his body, only contributed to his imminent undoing. Soon he was coming, white heat germinating upwards from his spine and ejecting itself brutally. Luke groaned, his voice cracking, and tightened every muscle. Even after the pressure released, he could still feel pleasure pulsating inside of him. His body buzzed with warmth, from his abdomen to his extremities. Luke sighed a long, long sigh. Han slumped against him lazily. His head spun.
“Man,” muttered Luke, “man…”
Han extracted his fingers from Luke’s body, peeling himself away and stretching. Luke leant breathless against the bedpost for several moments. He could hear Han’s belt buckle clinking behind him. His pants, which had been caught in the crossfire, now pooled around his ankles. Beneath the tingling aftermath of his orgasm, Luke could feel a persistent ache, and an almost jarring sense of emptiness. He wondered how long those sorts of feelings tended to last.
Han cleared his throat loudly.
Still sluggish, Luke heaved himself from the bedframe and turned to face Han, who was already dressed, and was rummaging around in his coat pocket for something. Luke made a lame attempt to conceal his indecency when Han glanced at him. But Han just winked, and continued his rummaging until at last he extracted a tattered, off-white handkerchief from his pocket, and extended it to Luke. He accepted it with a feeble ‘thanks’, wiped away the most offensive portion of the mess, then leant forward clumsily to tug his pants back up. Han looked him over, reaching back into his coat for the keys.
“Alright, kid?”
“Yeah,” said Luke, tucking the handkerchief into his own pocket for later, “kinda hurts.”
Han laughed. It was true, but it wasn’t terrible. Luke worried his lip between his teeth.
“That was really something,” he said quietly, “I could never have imagined…”
The sentence trailed off into silence, as Luke became a little too aware of Han’s eyes, watching him keenly. Luke ripped his own eyes away. How am I ever gonna look at him again?
“It’s okay,” said Han, “I get it a lot.”
“I bet,” dug Luke snidely, even though he really did bet.
“But it doesn't mean anything, you got that?” Han thrust a stern finger in Luke’s direction. “No privileges granted. No nothing.”
Luke affirmed Han’s conditions without speaking. He frowned. It was over now, he supposed. Luke stared at Han’s fingers while he searched noisily for the correct key.
“It unlocks from the inside,” Han explained, pulling the door open and offering Luke a polite half-smile, “shout if you get into any trouble.”
Luke nodded sharply and shifted where he stood. He was growing increasingly restless, eager to strip every damp, sticky inch of clothing from his body, wipe himself free of all the sweat and grime, and collapse into sleep. Luke had already started to loosen his waistband when Han, who was halfway out the door already, spun back around to face him.
“Thanks, by the way,” he said quickly.
Han allowed Luke no time to respond. He didn’t even let his eyes linger, as Luke had (rather optimistically) hoped he might. One last “later, kid” was all Han offered as he sauntered off — and just like that, Luke was alone again.
The second he heard the door latch shut, Luke stripped down to his underwear, and heaped his soiled clothes into a messy pile beside his bunk. Slowly, he slid to the floor, resting his head against the firm, flat base of the mattress behind him. Soreness panged and throbbed between his legs as the ache really started to set in. Luke just grinned to himself, lazy with sleep. Juvenile giddiness bubbled up from his chest and escaped him via slow, languid laughter. When he buried his head in his hands, he could see Han’s face behind his eyelids. His skin was still warm where Han had touched him, and if he focused hard enough, he could still feel Han’s hands roving across the lithe expanse of his body. Luke had liked how rough it was. Luke had liked everything about it.
And Luke was already dreaming when his head fell forward, his body slumping gracelessly against the bunk. When he woke again, some time later, Luke had relocated to the floor. He sat up, stretched his arms, and moaned in pain. Every part of him ached like a bastard. Some more than others. Climbing into bed, Luke eased his pounding head down upon the pillow and heaved a sigh. Only as he was beginning to drift back into sleep, did Luke think of Tatooine again. Miles behind him now, Luke allowed fond memories of home to settle into comfortable dormancy in the back of his mind. Luke knew, he just knew, that he would return again someday. The future would prove undoubtedly formidable, but every unknown prospect thrilled him, all the same. At least for now, he was at peace. Sex hadn’t fixed all of his problems, but Luke didn’t mind.
It had certainly been well worth the try.
Fin.