Ambiance: Prozzak. "I'm a bastard, it's true, if the thing
she did to me is what I did to you."
Archive: Anywhere. Email forwarding is OK.
Archive Date: March 22, 2000
Author's Webpage: http://come.to/prillalar
Disclaimer: SW belongs to George Lucas, not me. I do not
profit in any way by this story.
Feedback: Yes, any and all comments welcome.
Pairing: Lu/W
Rating: R for M/M sexual situations
Series: Antilles Diaries
Spoilers: ANH
Summary: Luke/Wedge. Alone at last.
Timeframe: Soon after ANH.
I didn't fix the assignments. And there's no such thing as fate. So when I drew Luke Skywalker as partner for the recon mission, I figured it was luck. Good luck.
Could be fun, after all, a dangerous mission with my buddy Luke. My pal. Who hung around with me and watched my back if we were in a fight. Whose piloting genius and bright eyes made him the Rebellion's fair haired boy. Who either ignored all my looks and signals or was just too dense to notice them. And I didn't have the stomach to push him up against the wall and find out.
Bad luck, maybe.
Well, it was bad luck that after we so easily avoided the Imperials, we ran smack into those pirates on the far side of the moon. Good luck that we took them down. Bad luck that they disabled us first. I'm not sure how that works out, luckwise.
So, anyhow, we were stuck and too close to an Imperial cruiser to send out a distress signal. We hunkered down to wait it out.
If the situation had been different, it might have been a good time. And as it was, it wasn't so bad. We had enough emergency rations for a month. Most of a bottle of whiskey, medicinal, for the use of. I had a deck of cards. Luke didn't have his harmonica. And there was room to lie down together in the back if you like it cozy. We took turns.
Still and all, it's a small space to be cooped up in for any length of time. After two hundred thirty-seven card games, two packs of rations, five rehashes of the battle, and all the dirty limericks we could remember, with anyone else, I would have been insane. But this was Luke. Whose ugly orange flight suit I wanted to get into. Who got me hot and bothered by just existing.
It was driving me crazy.
And so was his incessant whistling. "Dammit, Luke, would you stop that?"
He looked up from the flight manual he was poring over. "Stop what?"
"Stop whistling. Or if you have to whistle, just pick a different song. Or at least get past the damn chorus for once."
"I wasn't whistling."
"You've been tweeting away for the last hour. Trust me on this one, Hotshot."
Luke shut the book and swivelled his chair around. "I'm sure I'd know if I was whistling."
"Are you calling me a liar?" I was sorry as soon as I'd said it, but then I changed my mind. I was ready to blow off some steam.
Golden Boy looked a little surprised at that. "I'm just saying that maybe you're mistaken."
I took a breath. The air was getting close. "Oh, and what else am I mistaken about?"
His eyes narrowed and I knew I had him. "Well, how about your basic piloting skills?"
"You're alive, aren't you?"
"No thanks to you, Antilles. 'You take the guns, Luke and I'll fly, even though you're twice the pilot I am, just because I want to.'"
"So, that manoeuvre I pulled to dodge the pirates -- you're saying you could have done that better?" We were knee to knee now, and breathing hard.
"I'm saying that if I'd been piloting, there wouldn't have been any need for fancy flying in the first place." His face was flushed, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. I'd pulled my flight suit down to the waist long before, but his was still closed to the neck. I wanted to strip it off him now, yank the zipper, pull the shoulders back and down to bind his hands behind him. All at once I was angry for real.
"If you're so hot, maybe you should just do these missions on your own. Admit it, you wish you could. You think you're too good for us."
He was shocked now. "Wedge--"
"Too good for us. You're the hero. Above it all." It felt good to say these things. It felt good to see the hurt in his face.
"No, I--"
"Shut up, Skywalker. You know you don't need us. You don't need me." You don't need me. I could almost see the tension in the air between us. I was going to either hit him or kiss him. Even now, he was so bright, so blinding. I hated him for making me feel that way. And myself, for being weak.
I wondered if I should just tell him, just blurt out what I hadn't quite dared to articulate to myself. But then what? Kill him and dump the body out the airlock?
He leaned over and put a cautious hand on my knee. "Wedge, I don't think I'm too good for you."
His touch was light. I couldn't feel any warmth from his hand through my suit. He was looking up at me through that too-long fringe of hair. His eyes were blue and I wanted him. It was like a punch in the gut. I reached out to touch his face. "Luke--"
He moved back. "I know you guys think that but...I'm not. Really."
My hand dropped and covered his own. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles. I didn't speak but I stared at him and even if the secrets of my heart were safe, it was pretty obvious what my body was after.
Stretching out, he put his other hand on top of mine, holding it between his palms. My mouth was suddenly dry. "Luke," I said again.
"Relax," he said and slid onto his knees.
This was the moment, then. I'd been thinking about it for a long time. Sexual fantasies. Seduction daydreams. A few "no, please, no" scenarios that I was almost ashamed to have even pictured.
It was nothing like I'd imagined. I always thought that I'd be in control, that there would be sweet words unspoken, a little laughter. I always thought that I'd be ready instantly.
His hands on my clothes and skin were deft. The farmboy had done this before. I was ready soon enough. Then he went down on me. That pretty mouth was just as good as I could have hoped. I wondered what I tasted like. Smelling the hot stink of my body, I wished that I could smell him too.
I didn't touch him. I didn't think he wanted that. I wanted to stroke his hair, his cheek, but I didn't trust myself to be rough enough. So I held on to the arms of the chair and tipped my head back and closed my eyes.
He was there, too, walking down the hall with me, laughing and scuffling. My favourite fantasy. He shoved me. I grabbed him by the shoulder and kissed him. He smiled at me. Then we were standing together, his back to the wall, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, kissing, touching. Pulling each other's clothing aside, excited that someone might walk in on us at any moment. I couldn't get enough of him. I kissed his neck and he whispered my name.
We were only halfway there when I came. My fingernails dug into the fabric of the chair and I felt it rip. I opened my eyes to see him rock back onto his heels. He spat into the corner and wiped his mouth. I rearranged my clothes and he took a belt of whiskey.
We looked at each other. I had no idea what to say, no idea what he was thinking. A signal lit up on the instrument panel. Proximity sensor. Bad luck. Being interrogated and killed by Imperials would put the capper on the day.
But it was the Rebels searching for us. They'd be there in half an hour to pick us up. Good luck. Luke gave me half a smile as he told me the news, then looked away.
We didn't speak the whole way home.