"I need advice."
Han looked up from the foodsynth. It was the most fiendishly complex
he'd
ever worked with, and he wasn't about to take any chances by
serving bad food. No reason to cause any anger he could avoid.
Luke had been mercurial these last few days. At times Han
thought the Princess was good, making him kinder to everyone.
At other times, he knew he was getting the brunt of the temper
Vengar dared not unleash on her.
The princess' meal had been a tricky bit of programming,
and he was tired of quarrelling with the device. The pensive
look on Luke's face was very new. He punched in something
very simple. "Since when do you take advice from me?"
The words came out too sharply.
"Since I need it. You're my personal aide.
Advice comes in the job description."
Steel under the words now. "I need advice about Leia."
Han cocked an eyebrow at him. "Leia?"
"I'm having trouble with my seduction technique. What do you know
about
women?"
Han was wise enough not to let fly the burst of laughter that welled
up in
him. "Enough. I know enough. Let's eat. Tell
me where you are and
I'll tell you where to go from there." He set two plates on the
small table. The steaks were blood rare, just the way Luke preferred
them, and he'd managed to coax the proper vegetables out of the
machinery as well.
"Right now, she lets me touch her nonsexually. She's let me start
a healing bond with her. But when I talk, it feels
like I'm babbling. How do I get from rubbing her temples
to take away her headache to kissing her?"
"You're doing fine. Don't rush things." He
thought for a moment and then dove in. "Practice
on me if you need to." Stars, he hated bargaining almost
as much as he hated begging. He knew Luke could and would take
anything he wanted, but that the young Sith took great delight
in having his permission for something first.
"Practice what?" The changeable eyes, blue instead of
the usual storm grey, fixed on him intently.
"Your small talk. Your temple rubs. Anything
you need to."
"Anything?" The raised eybrow spoke volumes.
"And what, pray tell, might I need to practice under
the 'anything' category?"
Knowing he would pay heavily for his next words,
Han chose them very carefully. "You're rough.
She's a tiny, fragile woman, not a big guy like me.
You could hurt her. Have you ever had a woman before?"
"Of course." The reply was almost shocked. "One
of my regulars at Levant's was a woman, and Arnowa
used to request me as her bonus when she'd made double
her weekly quota. She was popular, so she doubled it often."
"Which one was she?" Han almost regretted asking.
"The Askjian. You turned her down early."
"See? Small talk." The first smile Luke had
seen since Tzalna found its way on Han's face, but
was just as quickly gone.
"Although, with the Princess you have a more acceptable
common history. Bring up something funny from the last Senate
session.
Make sure she'll think it's funny too. Compliment her,
but make it sincere."
"Poetry?"
"Save that for later. Make sure it's good stuff,
not cheap limericks."
Luke cuffed him lightly. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
"Sorry."
The slender fingers bridged the gap again, to twist in the
cropped dark hair, and pull the spacer closer. For the first
time, Luke kissed him.
The kiss spoke of many things: of sorrow for what might have been,
of power and control, and astonishingly of desire. Desire
that bound them, desire that frightened the younger man enough
that he had to push it away and make it safer through pain
and anger.
Han read most of the messages, and he recognized his Luke. Cursing
himself for a dozen kinds of fool, he returned the kiss, letting his
tongue play gently over the lips and teeth.
"To bed. Now." Luke's voice was rougher with need than Han
had
ever heard it. Before, there had always been the cold control,
the anger, the icy hate. Now, there was only need and desire.
"Show me what it should be like."
"First, slow is your key word." The big hands moved gently over
the small man, opening the black tunic, and sliding it off while knowing
lips
never let go of his mouth. "Let her do anything she wants,
and anything you can convince her is her idea." Any tenderness
he could demonstrate
and thus ensure for the Princess would make this worth it. The
selfish
part of his mind reminded him that this was the same man who had given
him the half-
healed bruises and the cracked ribs. The voice of idealism was slightly
stronger,
but both were being over-ridden by his body.
"Shut up and show me!" The kiss was rougher, and needier, than
the first.
Luke rubbed himself against the hands that were undressing him,
basking in a willing touch. This was nice, being handled by
someone who desired him and wasn't afraid for a change. Almost
inaudibly, he said "I want you to make love to me like I should to
her."
Finally, after a deliberately slow stripping, Han pulled them both to
sit
on the edge of the bed. His hands moved in light circles over
the smooth
chest, teasing the large nipples until they stood erect. Luke
shuddered under
his touch, arching into it, wordlessly asking for more, and found the
warm
wetness of a tongue even more pleasant. Gently, sharp teeth closed
and worried
at it until he was gasping and pushing away.
"Too much. Oversensitive."
"Remember that. And remember when you move lower, like this."
Knowing that
lingering on the navel would be trouble, Han continued working his
way down.
"Arnowa taught me all about that. She said I was better than most
men and
half the women she knew. Aaah. Stay there." He urged
the slow strokes to become
deeper, but Han persisted in teasing him with a tongue that felt like
it
was everywhere at once.
This was the Luke he remembered, the memory he'd looked at so often
it
was worn along the creases. There was nothing of evil here, just
a very young man, almost desperate for release. He let the
half-smile that had charmed lovers from one end of the galaxy to
the other hit Luke with full force.
"Most of all, make her climax before you do. Three or four times,
if you can." He returned his full attention to his work, relenting
on
the teasing and becoming serious. Amazing how much more fun this
was when he wasn't being forced into it. And how much easier
it was
to swallow without a Force-choke around his throat.
He moved back up, and took the initiative in kissing Luke. The
sensual,
well-trained body still remembered all it had learned. He was
a pleasure
to kiss, and even better when he started the
kiss. "Kiss her. A lot. Start with that."
"Will you shut up? I don't need the lecture. Just show me!"
"You sure?"
The ice began to creep back now that the first rush of need was past.
"One more word, and you'll regret it."
There was nothing to say, so Han kissed him again, and eased him to
lie
on his back. Luke planted his feet on the matress and put a pillow
under the top of his hips to tilt them up. Han knew where the
lubricant
was, seldom used though it was, and prepared himself. Fingers
still
slick, he made a manual reconnaissance
first, making sure Luke was relaxed enough to accomodate him.
The first thrust was short, just barely penetrating. He let Luke
adjust,
feel him, and then entered to the hilt, slowly. He moved gently
at first,
then in time with the other man. As the matching pushes became
more insistant,
he sped up. He slid a hand between their bodies, and rubbed the
renewed
erection. To be twenty again, he thought, a bit enviously, and
kissed Luke
again.
At the entrance of his tongue, the matching thrusts became even more
vigorous. He cursed Imperial efficiency in the matter of facial
depilation. He wanted to feel that first, soft
stubble against his chest, and scrape the boy's neck with his own.
He buried his face in Luke's neck, running light teeth along the rapidly
pulsing vein. It was too much for the younger man, and wet warmth
spilled
across his hand and both their stomachs.
Knowing he had more than satisfied, Han took three, last, deep strokes,
and climaxed.
Deliberately disobeying his last orders, he whispered "Luke,"
in the other's ear, tasting the name as if for the first time.
He pulled out, and moved a little bit away, to give
them both some air.
A drowsy, pleased moment hung between them, lengthening.
For a time, they were no longer Sith Lord and body servant,
but almost equals. The moment lengthened, when Luke rolled
sleepily into Han's arms, and pillowed his head on the broad chest
with a small sigh.
Only the Corellian-sharp ears let him hear
the word under the sigh. As his Luke snuggled into his chest,
breathing evenly, Han held the thought that the last word before sleep
had been his name.