by Angela Jade
Rating - NC-17 (slash!) - underagers and non-slashers... don’t let the door hit your ass as you leave.
Email - [email protected] - constructive criticism and general feedback very welcome. Flames laughed at.
Summary - a series of vignettes exploring a relationship between the two greatest X-wing pilots ever. Set during the Original Trilogy.
Disclaimer - Luke, Wedge, and the entire SW galaxy belongs to George. I’m not making any money from this.
Warning - lotsa slash! You don’t like, you don’t read.
Archive - WAAS, SWAL, Sithchicks. Everyone else, please ask.
Megathanks to Sheyla. Fanfic beta and butt-kicker extraordinaire!
May 2002
“Love is love. Shall I lose my soul's mate and my heart's dream because
of something as trivial as gender?”
- Marie Whi Mitshue
Part one - five months after the Battle of Yavin
Higher and higher, twisting and turning; pleasure so intense it borders on
pain. Spots of light appearing in the darkness behind closed eyelids, dancing
and expanding. Cries of passion, stifled at the last second in case anyone should
hear. Finally, an all-too-brief moment of total ecstasy - speed, light, weightlessness,
rapture...
Wedge forced his eyes open and tried to kickstart his addled mind as his lover
fell heavily on the narrow bed beside him, panting and gasping for air. “Sith,
Skywalker! When I asked you to fuck my brains out, I didn’t mean literally.”
Twisting his head on the pillow, Luke grinned at him, teeth shining white against
still-tanned skin. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I can tell,” muttered Wedge. “I can’t feel anything below
my waist.”
Luke rolled onto his side, one hand brushing ineffectually at the sweat-soaked
hair that fell over his eyes. He pressed a kiss to Wedge’s shoulder, and
the grin was replaced by a more serious expression. “Do you realize we’ve
known each other for five months now?”
“Great! Do we get a cake?”
“No,” replied Luke, a mock frown wrinkling his brow. “We’d
actually have to have seen each other more than twelve times to earn a cake.”
Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Wedge reached for Luke’s hand and entwined
their fingers. “You’re counting?”
“You are the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me,”
said Luke quietly. “Every time I walk out that door, every time I climb
into my X-wing, there’s chaos and blood and death and politics. You are
the one person that keeps me sane. Of course I’m counting.”
Wedge wrapped his hand around Luke’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss,
their tongues tangling as their mouths melted into each other. Even though there
was hardly any difference in their ages, sometimes Wedge felt years older than
his bedmate. Did Luke even realize how much he lived for
these trysts, when he could forget about the Rebellion and the Empire for an
all-too-brief period of time? Probably not - the shy pilot still acted as if
Wedge was doing him a favor. Finally he broke away, his eyes fixed steadily
on Luke’s. “It’s war. I wish we could spend our time
sitting around drinking ale and watching holomovies, but we have a job to do.”
“I know, I know,” murmured Luke, his hand drifting over Wedge’s sweat-slicked chest, following the contours as if mapping unknown terrain. “And don’t get me wrong - I love flying. I just wish we could do it in the same squadron.”
Luke’s hand stilled suddenly as Wedge caught it and held it in place.
“We’ve been through this before. You’re working your way up through
Blue Squadron, I’m working up through Green...”
“And that’s another thing,” interrupted Luke. “Why do they
keep naming the Squadrons after boring colors? We’re on the front line
of the Rebellion - we should have more inspiring names.”
Wedge couldn’t help but smile at Luke’s enthusiasm. It seemed to
surge out of him, as if his body couldn’t contain his spirit. His vitality,
his sheer zest for life wasn’t always visible, but Wedge knew it was there,
bubbling under the surface. And he loved him for it. “Like what?”
“Like Blaster Squadron, or Valiant, or Steel...”
“Warrior?”
Luke nodded, his bangs slipping into his eyes again. “Warrior Squadron
sounds good. How about ‘Scourge’?”
“Or ‘Scoundrel’.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re being silly.”
“No, I’m not,” replied Wedge, squeezing Luke’s hand. “It
makes us sound wild and unpredictable and dangerous.”
“Scoundrel Squadron is still a bit of a mouthful.”
They lapsed into a companionable silence and Luke settled himself into Wedge’s
side, wriggling his shoulders to get comfortable. Finally he spoke, his breath
whispering across his lover’s skin. “I want to resurrect Red Squadron.
I want to create an elite X-wing squad to take on the most difficult missions
- the best pilots, the best equipment, the best training...”
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”
Raising his head, Luke rested his chin on warm skin. “I’ve had a
lot of time to think lately.”
“The best pilots - that would be us, of course.”
“Of course.” Luke smiled. “And the ten next-best pilots who
are willing to join us.”
Wedge’s hand slipped lazily through Luke’s hair, the blond strands
gliding softly over his fingers. “Are you sure this isn’t just an
excuse for us to live together?”
The dimpled grin again, the one that melted Wedge’s heart. “That
would be merely an extra benefit. I hadn’t really considered the living
arrangements...”
“You are such a liar, Skywalker.”
Instantly Luke was upon him, pinning Wedge’s arms above his head as he
stretched the length of his body, his expression serious apart from the tell-tale
twinkle in his eyes. “This from the Corellian who ‘never sleeps with
pilots’?”
“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“No.”
There was a brief tussle, and Wedge managed to reverse their positions. He
grinned triumphantly. “I dunno - there’s a really nice tech just started
with us. Maybe I should ask her out...”
Luke raised his head, closing the tiny gap between them. His kiss was long
and sensuous and thorough, a reminder of their past and an allusion to their
possible future.
Wedge gulped. “Or maybe not.”
*****