Archive: list archives only. Private sites ask so I can link to you.
Archive Date: March 15, 2003
Author's Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/lady_aethelynde
Category: PWP, TieMeUp!Fic
Disclaimer: This is George Lucas's Sandbox. I'm just playing with the sand that fell out.
Feedback: Always a Treat.
Pairing: H/L
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Staying in touch across the light-years
Warnings: Slash, The premise is SLASH, read that again, SLASH, Yaoi, gay
stuff. I'm here, the boys are queer, get over it. Also, some mild bondage.
Also un-beta'd just spell-checked.
Jedi Master Luke Skywalker sat on his favorite rock, watching the double sunset of Tatooine. His shape was a darker lump on the dark sandstone. The first thing new pupils learned was not to disturb their master at this time of day.
Even his mate did not bother him, and that was a novelty in itself. The General was notorious in his lack of respect for the Jedi ways. But General Solo had been gone two weeks now, on a shakedown and testing cruise for both the newest transport prototype and the first six graduates of the Jedi Academy. The more advanced students noted their teacher meditated a lot more when his mate was away.
Luke stared beyond the sunset, barely conscious of the sudden darkness about to descend. His mind was half-way across the galaxy, searching the Force, checking the health of his students. Reassured they were doing fine, he turned his attention to more pleasurable pursuits.
//Han, are you there?// It had taken years for their bond to grow strong enough for Luke to contact Han's mind. Now they made regular use of it at times like this.
The erstwhile smuggler twitched fully awake. //Aah, Luke, I was almost asleep. Stick around, you could do a dream visit.// Luke felt the wicked grin that spread across his mate's face. //Like daemcus out of legend. Beautiful lovers that come in dreams.//
//And suck the life out of the hapless dreamer,//Luke finished for him. //If you want that, go to sleep and I'll see if I can oblige.//
//Without the life-sucking.// Han warned.
//Maybe.// This time Luke wore the wicked grin as he withdrew from Han's mind.
Aboard the transport Silivb Han stretched out on his bunk. He'd had a long couple weeks, keeping Jedi aspirants out of trouble, teaching them the ins and outs of maintenance and coping with faulty enviro-controls. The visits from Luke were the only things that kept him on an even keel. He wiped away a bead of sweat and turned his pillow over looking for a cool spot.
He yawned again, and settled down, imagining Luke stretched at his side, curled around him, a slim, strong armful of Jedi Master to keep him company. Sleep finally came.
The bed was enormous, the type he'd always joked about having imported just to scandalize the students. Tall carved posts supported a deep blue canopy, and the sheets were a lighter blue. The bed curtains shaded to match both.
He stretched out on it, naked, slightly damp, having just come from a bath. The thick kothan sheets were cool and rich on his skin. He lay back, hands behind his head and stared at the embroidery on the canopy. It depicted the daemcusar of Corellian legend: male and female, their wings not getting in the way as they coupled with each other and with human lovers of all four sexes.
One of the male daemcusar drew his attention back. Fair and beautiful with blue wings that matched his eyes, he seemed to be staring straight at Han. Han stared back as the embroidered figure, caught in mid-hover, slowly began to move.
He seemed to draw closer to the surface of the canopy and then emerge from it, golden and blue, his wings larger than he was and feathered in a blue that matched the bed from the dark top to the nearly white bottom.
Han smiled as the daemcus hovered above him. "Good look on you, Luke."
Luke swept down for a kiss, his weight solid and tangible. "Do I need to tell you how much I miss you?"
Han kissed back with relish. Luke's mouth was warm on his, sweet and slow. "Nope, don't need to. Tell me anyway."
"I'd rather show you." Luke gasped as Han reached out and ran careful fingers through the feathers on his wings. "Oh yeah." He practically purred as his mate preened him.
"They say, if you scratch a daemcus right..." Han groped for the spot just between the wings and scratched lightly, "here, he'll love you forever. It's the one place he can't reach and he always itches there."
"Didn't need to scratch me for that. Love you anyway." Luke kissed him again, savoring the erotic dance of tongue and lips that had him hard before he broke away to kiss down Han's chest.
Luke hesitated, just below Han's navel, running a teasing tongue along the underside of his belly. Han groaned and reached out to guide him lower only to have his hands caught by soft blue velvet. The cords wrapped around his wrists and drew them up beside his head, holding him as immobile as Luke's weight did.
Ordinarily, he'd have fought the bonds, but here, in the dream, he was safe, safe enough to let his mate and his own mind do this. He surrendered to the softness of bed, bonds and tongue, enveloped in sensation.
Luke felt Han relax and stroked lower, his tongue tracing designs to match the embroidery of the canopy. A light kiss at the tip of the hard cock that awaited him, and then he swallowed it, running his tongue under it, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.
Han strained at the velvet cords, groaning Corellian vulgarities, thrusting up into his lover's mouth. Luke was capable of reducing him to a writhing mass of need faster than any other ever had. Here, in dreamspace, it seemed like he took great pleasure in drawing out the delicious torment.
Luke left off his ministrations, his wings flexing as he stared at his beloved, stretched before him, all desire and arousal. He loved seeing Han like this, the lean strong body taut with need.
Han opened one eye and saw the look on Luke's face. He loved it when his lover got that hungry look, like a starving man facing an eight-course meal. "More, please, more," he managed.
"More?" Luke ran a slow tongue deliberately along Han's hip bone. "More? Like this?" He sucked at the head, just briefly, then nipped at the tight ridge on the underside, making Han's cock leap.
"Oh yeah!"
"Maybe later." Luke's smile was wicked as he ran a pair of fingers over the opening of Han's body. "I want to feel you around me." One fingertip tapped at it, and then worked its way inside.
In a dream things are as they should be, and this was no exception. The finger, and a second slid in easily, as if already lubricated, with no pain, only spreading fullness that made Han even harder, if such a thing was possible. Luke had tipped his hips into an accessible position before he could catch his breath.
"Ready?" The question was a formality, because Luke was already pressing in, slow and sure, feeling the warmth of his lover around him, savoring the tightness. He paused, fully inside, enjoying the feel of Han shuddering around him. His lover's tightly shut eyes and open-mouthed gasps of arousal left Luke shuddering a bit himself with his own desire.
He moved, taking his time, enjoying the varying sensations, allowing the build of orgasm to set his pace. Need growing, Luke's thrusts became solid pounding strokes designed to satisfy him in short order.
"C'mon, Luke, a little help?" Han thrust against empty air, helpless to do anything but be ravished in this dream. It felt terrific, Luke inside him, riding him hard, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more, a hand, that mouth, anything, to soothe the ache.
"In time," came the answer, word tangled with a gasp of pleasure. Luke found the rhythm he had been searching for, the one that sent him spiraling up the scale of ecstacy like a building chord of music, to crash into a thunderous crescendo of orgasm at the top.
Han just stared at his transported mate. He could look at Luke like this forever, and he held his breath for as long as the instant would last, not wanting to disturb the image. Luke poised over him, frozen in place, his head thrown back, eyes shut. He looked like a statue, the only sign of life the rustling flutter of his wings.
Luke opened his eyes slowly, taking his time to come down. He felt himself softening and gently withdrew. A sated, sensual smile crept over his face, and he looked at his lover, spread out before him, awaiting his pleasure.
He studied Han, the tousled hair, the corded arms straining against the blue velvet bonds. He leaned in and stroked a light wing-tip over the sensitive flesh of Han's inner arm. The play of muscles under the skin and the hissing intake of breath signaled the sensitivity of the region.
Luke spread himself atop his mate, pressing as much of their skin together as he could manage. The feel of Han was water after a hot day, comfort in the long night. Solid, warm Han, under him. He rubbed against the stiff erection poking him in the belly, the feel of it exciting.
Unable to resist a moment longer, he kissed Han's lips before trailing the same feather-light kisses down his chest and stomach. "Gorgeous," he breathed, the warm air gliding across the taut skin and instant before his mouth did.
He swirled his tongue around the head, and Han bit back a curse at the teasing. Luke took his time, enjoying the taste and feel of his mate, savoring the experience.
Han held back, wanting to shove himself deeper into the teasing mouth, but not wanting to hurt Luke. This was almost unbearable. He'd been on the brink when Luke had finished, but it had subsided to dull embers. Now, the flames flared hotter at the wet touch of Luke's tongue.
Finally, he relaxed when Luke settled into a no-nonsense motion, taking him deep, pressing hard with his tongue along the bottom. That was exactly perfect, and he ignited, every nerve singing in blue fire, the color of the bed, the color of Luke's eyes and wings. He vaguely felt Luke swallowing and licking gently as he came down.
Han lay in the bonds, drained, as Luke moved over him again. A nod from Luke sent the velvet ropes sliding back into the nothingness from where they had come. Han wrapped his arms around his mate, taking care not to pinch one of the great wings.
"I stole your soul when you were distracted." Luke's voice was honey and fire, a temptation in his ear. The words took a moment to register. "So take mine in exchange, my love." He kissed his way across Han's cheek, each kiss matched with a term of endearment from the many worlds they'd seen.
"A'ruhn." The Old Corellian word for "my heart" marked Han's jaw.
"Ihr-ish-lan." The Illuvian wind-dancer phrase "wings of my soul" hissed over his cheek.
"Krkkznn." The Devenna flatland buzz of "rain on my lips" hummed against the scar on his chin.
"Han." His name breathed across his lips, followed by Luke's mouth, kissing him. A faint exhalation from his lover left Han feeling revitalized and alive. He shut his eyes and gave himself over to the kiss. He opened one eye to see Luke's wings becoming insubstantial.
"You're fading out, Luke," he said, trying to hold his lover a little closer.
"You're falling out of REM. Sleep well, my love." A ghost of a kiss from a nearly intangible Luke, and he was gone.
Han sank into the deep theta wave state, sleeping soundly and well, a small smile on his face.
Luke opened his eyes. The suns were down and night was growing cold around him. He smiled and stretched. Noticing the very visible stain on his trousers, he wrapped his robe a bit closer around him and headed back to the Academy, hoping for some dreams of his own.