***
The band moaned in the background as the revel got into full swing.
Couples and groups of various beings gyrated to the music, some of
it
hardly dignified enough to be called dancing. Trays and carriers
of
food for all species had been brought up from the kitchens, and more
beings indulged in them.
Han managed to snag a couple of fried buns lightly dusted with powdered
sugar, and pass one to Luke before the Hutt arrived. They'd eaten
from the
foodsynth in the guestroom as a precaution. Talla had shared
her nose-stunning
inhalent, and Zora had offered them both puffs on her ever-present
smokestick.
The partners moved through the crowd, greeting old acquaintences.
Han tugged
Luke into a quiet corner and held him perched on one leg, running obtrusively
possessive hands over the boy's bare chest. Luke had explained
that such a
display would be expected and also help keep him safe from the other
denizens
of the palace. Not to say that it wasn't very pleasant into the
bargain.
Every now and then, the boy would lean in and give him one of those
incredible kisses. Idly, Han wondered if he could make enough
to buy
the kid and free him. Random images passed through his mind:
long
hyperspace jumps made short by intense lovemaking, evenings of three-way
chess against Chewie and Luke, extra hands to unload cargo, sensual
kisses
anytime he wanted them. Another brush of the talented mouth drove
the
pleasant ideas away with even more pleasant reality.
Jabba floated into the room on a repulsor platform. He slithered
onto
the dais, and waved a munificent hand at his court before taking up
the
waterpipe to watch. The dancers were becoming more frenzied,
and at
least one group had begun indulging in what their species considered
foreplay. It seemed to consist of rubbing the spines on their
bodies
against each other until they bled. Han quit watching and gave
his
attention back to the boy on his lap.
"When do we need to move to something more intense?" he asked between
kisses on the throat above the collar.
"Sometime after Yarna chooses her partner for the evening."
"Who's Yarna?" Han didn't care. The soft neck and firm jaw
under his
mouth were all that interested him at the moment.
"Her." Luke pointed at the Askjian flirting her way through the crowd.
He
arched his neck a little to enjoy the kisses that had become light
nips.
He slid one hand along the front of Han's trousers and stroked the
rapidly
expanding bulge he found there. "Nice. And what shall we
do with this
when the time comes?"
The teasing could be cute, but Han was trying to stay in control, at
least
for the moment. "You talk too much." He removed the exploratory
hand,
and placed it on his shoulder before turning Luke in to face him a
little
more. "If you want me to wait, keep that hand there, and kiss
me."
Well-trained, eager, obliging kid.
Talla wandered by, still unattached, but the men were too busy to pay
her
much attention. "Solo! Solo! Quit thinking with your
blaster!"
"Go 'way."
"Jabba's not amused enough. He's glaring at the two of you. Get on with it!"
"Go away," Han insisted much more clearly. "We're on it."
Talla wandered off, her eye caught by a human on the outskirts of the throne-room.
Han broke from Luke's mouth to stare. Surely that wasn't Mandalorian combat
armor! He'd personally led the squadron four years ago that had wiped out
the commando band. It was his last assignment before the debacle with
Chewbacca that had gained him his partner and lost him his career. He
decided he was seeing things.
"You ready, kid? I'm long past. Your mouth first."
"You just let go of it."
"Mouthy brat. You this difficult for all the pilots?"
"Just you."
"If you don't want Jabba to take you away, you'd better start licking
so it doesn't hurt when I bend you over the bench."
Taking his meaning, Luke slid bonelessly off his lap, and with fingers
so deft
Han almost didn't feel them, had him exposed to the full view of the
court,
and especially Jabba. Only a moment of bareness, then wet silk
enclosed him,
the warm plush tongue moving in a soft spiral pattern.
"Get me really wet, kid. I don't want to hurt either of us."
Oh, that mouth.
The hair was perfect, a silken leash to guide the boy's motions.
The room had been a mere sample. His thighs were bare and smooth
as satin
where he'd taken Han between them, flexing the flat, strong dancer's
muscles
to form a tight passage, guiding the other's shaft to lie next to the
base
of his own. His fingers had danced lightly over his cock, teasing
the
protruding tip of the older man's as he pressed and released his legs
in
hard pulses. Vaunted Corellian staying power or no, Han had lasted
less
than three standard minutes under this delightful torture. The
sight of
Luke sitting on his lap, doing all of that, had sent him over the edge
before either of them was really ready.
Now, the first ragged edge taken from his lust, Han meant to enjoy himself.
He was as wet as he would be getting. "On your knees in front
of the bench,
and drape over it," he said, standing up. The air was chilly
on his damp
cock, and he was looking forward to warming it up. Luke positioned
himself
quickly. He barely gasped at the first blunt nudge against his
opening,
and then Han was deep inside his warm body.
The music, the others, even Jabba himself faded into inconsequence.
All
that mattered was the boy beneath him. He was careful, making
sure not to
hurt, at the same time moving steadily and apparently roughly.
Determined
to be as entertaining as he had to be to keep the kid alive, he climaxed
with
a yell. Slightly embarassed, but knowing it was in a good cause,
he ran
his thumbs across Luke's lower back, still gripping his hips.
Jabba's attention wandered to watch a green twi'lek girl as she danced.
Han waited until he had relaxed a little, and then pulled out and closed
his pants. Gently, he reclosed Luke's as well, and drew him up
for another
of those kisses.
"Told you I hadn't forgotten everything."
"I only hope you've got another in there before the night is over."
Han chuckled and drew him back in. "Just try me, kid."
****
Han's life fell into a pattern over the next year. He'd make a
run in
record time for Jabba, relax at the palace for two days with his reward,
return to Mos Espa and work on the Falcon for three days, then Bib
Fortuna
would contact him with another job. It was the steadiest work
he'd ever
had, and the Hutt paid well. With so little down-time, he had
no chance
to spend money, except on his lady. The constant maintenance
made the
Falcon run like she never had before. Chewbacca was sleek and
contented.
He had no desire to subject his sensitive nose to the foetor of Jabba.
He
was happy to space, drink beer at the cantina, and work on the ship.
He
also took care of the money, carefully investing the small fortune
they
were accumulating.
This time, the partners had brought in illegal water. Han had
turned it over
to Jabba's agent, and received the receipt voucher. He was about
to present it
to Jabba, a day early, and claim his bonus again. Jabba preferred
to pay his
incentives in slave time. He had persuaded Han to try a few of
the others, but
the Corellian preferred Luke. Being a smart businessman, Jabba
made sure
the pilot was happy. He was happy, and his groin twitched with
anticipated
pleasure.
Unfortunately, the big slug was also a controlling sadist at heart,
and
lately Han had been walking into scenes that were obviously set up
to
humiliate the young slave in front of him. Jabba was making it
perfectly
clear that Luke was still his, no matter how often Han enjoyed him.
This
time, he was bound on his knees, arms spread wide above him on a metal
frame, servicing a line of humans and near-humans who presented themselves.
Steeling himself, Han ignored the scene as he dickered with his employer.
The Hutt was insistant that he try a new acquisition, a human female.
She
was very lovely, but Han stood fast.
*A man who knows what he likes. Very well. Join the pool.
We're seeing
how much the cheelooda can swallow before he gets sick. You want
a try?*
Han shrugged as if it made little difference. "Sure. He
looks like he's
at the end of his endurance. A little green, which is fine for
a Rodian
but looks terrible on humans." The courtiers who were paying
attention
laughed when Jabba did. Han bit down hard on his anger, and silently
promised Luke he'd get him out of there.
*You go next.*
There were complaints from the men who'd waited for their turns, but
a
glare from the pilot silenced them. As the devaronian male stepped
away,
he stepped up and cupped Luke's chin with his right hand, laying his
left
on the boy's shoulder.
"I can get you out of this, kid, but it won't be pleasent. I may
have to
hurt you a little. You want me to?" The whole thing was
a toss-up, and
he wasn't sure he'd even be hard when the time came. He thought
of Luke
again, in the most erotic scenarios he could devise, instead of in
misery
here in the Hutt's throneroom. The touch-and-go moment passed.
"Get me out of it, Han. Please...anything." Luke rasped
through bruised
lips. His hands hung limp and bloodless.
"C'mon, boy. Don't act like you've never seen it before," he snarled
loudly
enough for those around to hear as he opened his pants. They
laughed as he
grabbed Luke's ponytail and shoved him down on the rampant erection.
The
boy gagged as he was forced.
Sparing a gentle caress of his thumb on the side of Luke's neck, Han
was
rough, varying the pace and pressing deeper with each thrust.
If he kept
trying to force Luke to swallow him, eventually, he'd trigger a gag
reflex,
and the kid would throw up. That would be the end of Jabba's
little game.
Luke took a small comfort in the steady stroke of Han's thumb against
his
neck, the weight of his hand on his shoulder. He knew what his
lover was
trying to do, and fought, trying to help spring the gag reflex.
He gagged on the hard flesh bumping against the back of his throat.
Encouraged, Han rammed deeper, promising himself he'd be extra nice
to
the kid tonight. This was going to be really repulsive.
He felt Luke
heave around him, and barely got out of the way in time.
"I'll make him polish my boots later, Jabba. Can I have him now?"
*Eager? Too many days in space, my boy? Take him and your usual rooms.*
"Thank you, Jabba. The Scourge of Corellia was just too much for him."
He untied Luke and helped him out of the throne room to the Hutt's booming
laughter. Once settled in his usual room, he got Luke a glass
of water,
and had him rinse his mouth. Then he kissed the boy slowly and
gently.
"Are you all right? I'm so sorry, kid."
"Thank you." Luke was still raspy. "I'm fine now that you're
here. You
didn't hurt me."
"Of course I didn't!" Han snapped. "I only shoved my cock so far
down
your throat you tossed! I know pain is relative, and compared
to some
of these dregs that's almost nice, but it isn't me."
"Love you. What wind blew you my way?"
Han wasn't sure he'd heard right. "What?"
"I love you. You didn't hurt me. You know I can swallow
you with no
trouble. I closed up on purpose." Luke let him absorb this
information.
Then, he looked up, loose hair trailing in his face. "What if
I wanted
you to hurt me?"
"First, don't say things like that. It's bad luck. Second,
I don't do pain.
I don't take it, I don't give it."
"One of the reasons I love you. So many of the others like to hurt. Him."
Han knew who that meant. Just because he didn't associate with
bounty
hunters didn't mean Jabba had the same scruples. The one in highest
favor
was a Mandalorian renegade who had become Luke's own personal nightmare.
"No talk of Fett tonight. You're going to recover for a while."
Han
kissed him. "Then we're going to have a bite to eat, before I
make love
to you all night long."
"All night? Is that a promise?"
"It is, and I always keep my promises."
****
Jabba's palace still stank, but Han had the formula for the odor killer
from Talla. He wasn't ready to take up smoking Zora's herbs.
He followed
the unctuous Twi'Lek and stopped dead at the entrance of the throne
room.
The attention of the entire court was focused on one exceedingly well
lit
pillar. A slim, bare figure hung in manacles, exposed to the
merciless
double sun. The sunburned back, barely screened by the long hair,
was
very familiar.
An order from Jabba's dais sent a tall humanoid female into the lit
area.
She blinked against the glare, let the light gleam on her blue-black
skin
and pure white hair, and held up a multi-tailed whip. The tenor
of the
crowd turned ugly, blood-lusting. She paraded a bit more, dragging
out
the preliminaries, well aware of the picture she and the boy made.
Han
held down the urge to tackle her, throw the whip into the rancor pit
and
snatch the kid. That would be Luke's death sentence faster than
the double
suns he was broiling under, what with the implant.
His self-control strained its leash as she brought the whip down across
the reddest part of Luke's back, drawing a yell from the slave boy.
The
crowd cheered. A second blow and a third fell. From the
crowd, a voice
yelled "Refuse our amusement, will you, slut? Beat him to death,
Shamidi!"
At the sixth blow, the leash broke and Han strode to the center of
the throne room. "Jabba!"
*Hoom, hoom! Solo. You are just in time to watch the show.
Shamidi is
beating my disrespectful cheelooda into unconsciousness, to remind
him of
his place. Continue!*
"I come to bargain for him, Jabba. I want his place to be with me."
Jabba laughed. *The hard mercenary has a plifir cream core!
He is sweet
on a cheelooda!*
"Space flight can get pretty dull," Han said half to himself, as if
he
hadn't heard. "A body-servant trained cheelooda like him could
make it
much more interesting. And a lot more pleasant." He tasted
the falseness
of his indifference, and only hoped it wasn't audible. Showing
real
interest would make Jabba suspicious.
Luke heard only the words, and slumped in the chains that held him
upright. His last hope, the one he had clung so desperately to
through
the hours in the sun, under the first blows of the whip, crumbled.
Han
had promised him his freedom. Now it sounded like the smuggler
just
wanted his servitude.
*When he is unconscious, we negotiate. Shamidi!*
The female swung the whip again. Luke didn't even cry out, but
hung
gasping in the chains, his face pressed to the sandstone pillar.
She
continued. He refused them the satisfaction of his torment, but
took
it, and let it wash in him and through him and out into the pillar.
But even the silent complacency of the stone wore thin, and his body,
still
half a child's, collapsed under the onslaught. Shamidi put her
whip at the
base of Jabba's dais, and prostrated herself. It was then that
Han saw the
slave collar on her throat as well, the exact shade as her skin, and
the
dampness of her eyelashes did not escape him either.
*Now, Solo, what do you offer me for the cheelooda?*
"I can pay you--"
*I expected better than that, Solo. So prosaic. Make an
interesting offer
for an interesting slave.*
"I do the next run, a Kessel, for no more than my docking fees."
*Better, better. Now, we make it interesting. The speed
record on a Kessel
is thirteen standard days. You leave here tomorrow. I set
the implant
for an explosion exactly eight days to the minute you leave.
If you return,
spice and all, before the cheelooda explodes, he is yours. If
you refuse,
I detonate him now!*
"Then I accept, Jabba. And I am grateful for this opportunity
to prove
myself." The words stuck in his clenched teeth. Luke's
life hung in his
hands and on his piloting skill.
*Unlock him, and take him with you. You stay tonight. Tomorrow
the race is
on!*
Han stalked to the pillar and unlocked the chains with a key Bib Fortuna
handed him. Very, very carefully, he eased the limp body over
one shoulder.
Yarna followed him from the throne room.
"Sir? This will help him." She handed Han a clay pot filled
with greenish
cream. "I know you'll take good care of him."
"Thank you." Worry made him short with her, and he strode off
to his usual
rooms.
Luke's front, pressed to the pillar, had been spared the worst of the
sunburn, so Han laid him carefully on his stomach. He smoothed
the cream
over the welts and burn, and watched them lose the angry look that
had
worried him.
Luke began to stir, swimming out of cool darkness and coming back to
harsh
light. He listened as a smooth, deep voice talked, and slowly
it dawned on
him who he was listening to.
"You lied to me," he managed. He would have spat in Han's face
if he'd had
the strength.
"No, kid, never."
"You told Jabba you wanted me as your slave."
"When have I ever told Jabba the straight story? I want you, at
my side as
long as you want to stay there."
"You called me cheelooda."
"Only to Jabba. Only because he called you that. If I can
beat the best
time on a Kessel Run, you're mine. Look." Han patted down
his vest.
Finding the device, he showed it to Luke. "This is an extractor.
Jabba
gives me your code, I deactivate the bomb and remove it. You
may be with
me, but I won't own you." He tucked the remover away and leaned
forward
for a light kiss, mindful of the boy's burned face.
"Love you, Han."
That phrase always made Han uneasy. He pulled back. "Don't
say that too
quick. I haven't told you everything. If I don't make it
back, Jabba
explodes the implant."
"Either way, I'm free. Love me. Please?"
"You're burned really bad, kid. I don't want to hurt you."
"Your hurt is better than any of the others' gentleness. Take me?"
"Let me check your back." Han stood up to look him over.
The welts were gone,
and the burn fading. "Maybe later. Yarna's stuff is a miracle."
"Oh, they can't mark me. Not for long. Frustrates the sandstorm
out of
Jabba, he likes marks to linger. I don't know why, but I heal
really fast."
"So I see." He sat back down on the floor beside the bench, letting
Luke
kiss him, enjoying the kisses that were still as technically perfect
as
the first ones had been, but meant more with feeling behind them.
"Han?" Luke's voice was soft near his ear. "If you sat up
on the bench,
I could suck you. I've been thinking about it since you left.
Every
time Jabba gave me to someone else, I closed my eyes and pretended
he was
you. Come up?"
Not one to refuse an invitation like that, Han hoisted himself onto
the bench.
Luke dropped his head into the older man's lap, and rolled onto his
side,
facing the smuggler. He tried lifting a hand, but his abused
arms cramped
under the effort. Using only his mouth, he worried Han's pants
open,
and let the semihard flesh fill his mouth.
It quickly came awake under his ministrations, and he sighed softly
with
pleasure. He loved doing this on his own terms. He flexed
one hand,
and winced. Strictly his mouth, then, and no helping hands.
A large hand came to rest on his head, and smoothed his hair.
Had
his back not been so burnt, he knew it would be on his shoulder, tracing
the line of his scapula, making circles on the small of his back.
"That's enough for now, kid."
Luke shot a curious look up at his lover.
"I said enough. We have plans to make for when I come back for
you." He
tugged the ponytail to free himself. Seeing the glare he was
getting,
Han conceded. "All right. Finish me. I'll think better
afterwards."
****
*Why do you trouble me again, Old Man? Did we not establish years
ago that
the cheelooda was not for sale?*
"Have you ever seen one of these, Mighty Jabba?" asked the old man as
if
he hadn't heard. He pulled out a globe as large as his cupped
hands
from his robes. Its opalescent surface began to glow and it levitated
out of the oldster's hands.
*Jedi tricks* Jabba sneered. *A polyplas sphere treated to glow.*
"A sand pearl." The old man activated a small reader. The
documemt
it projected was sealed by a noted lapidary in Mos Eisley. "It
is
worth over 50000 Imperial credits."
*Mad old hermit! A tenth of that would buy any slave in this palace,
and some of the free men as well.*
"I only want him."
*Very well. For 50,000 credits I can buy a dozen such boys.*
Jabba laughed at some private joke.
"Master Jabba," the boy began.
*Silence. You belong to him now.* The tiny hands unfastened
the collar
and the powerful tail shoved Luke off the dais. *Be off.
Do not let me
see you again. Either of you.*
"Come along, son."
His heart sinking with each step, Luke followed the old man out of Jabba's
palace and to the speeder. His thoughts were far away with his
smuggler,
wondering what would happen when Han found he was gone.
****
Solo skidded the hovertruck into the bay, and vaulted from the cab.
Fortuna
nodded sagely, and sent a message droid skimming ahead of him.
Sparing less
than a glance for the Twi-lek, he dashed into Jabba's throne room,
skidding
to a stop in front of the crime lord. His heart thudded into
his boots.
The spot on the front of the dais was empty.
Jabba was dozing, clutching a chain that led to an empty collar.
The stench
of blood and excrement hung in the air. Red smears marked the
slimy slug's
skin.
"Where is he, Jabba? I made your damned run in less than twelve
days!
I've got a ship that nearly shook herself apart, a copilot half-bald
from
shedding, six burned-out power couplings, and a positive ID from an
imperial
cruiser. Now pay up!"
The Hutt laughed. *Too late, Solo. Your chrono must be faulty.
The
cheelooda exploded an hour ago. His belly blew open, guts spilled
everywhere. His pretty boy-toys flew in three directions.
Someone
has souveniers. The rancor ate the rest. You will be paid
in credits.*
"Pay me. And no more jobs. I don't work for people who don't
keep their
promises. You just lost the ship and pilot who made the Kessel
Run in
eleven standard days for your little joke."
Han took the credit chip, and stalked out of Jabba's palace for the
last
time. He had enough saved, and with this payment he could start
his own
company, or get by until he decided what to do with himself.
How had a
teenage sex slave come to mean so much in just the few months he'd
known
him?
*Goin' soft, Solo. Soft heart, soft head as Da used to say.
No more.
No more cheeloodas, no more smuggling, no more trouble.*