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.
Pairing: Han/Wedge
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: ANH
Summary: If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the
one you're with.
Timeframe: Sometime after ANH. In some rebel base, somewhere.
He sat there and watched her. Not that he was watching her, really, just...she was there. So, who wouldn't watch her? He was just watching her and drinking tea. He took a sip and burned his tongue. Damn. Just when he finally thought he was getting used to this muck.
He was dying for a drink.
He wasn't going to get one. Got to stay sharp, they said. No resources to spare. Sure, good rules for everybody else. He stared into the mug. Could you ferment this stuff?
He watched her some more. She was alone, eating and reading something. Dying for some company. His company. Who wouldn't be? Sure, he'd be doing her a favour.
This time she might not bite his head off.
Push back the bench, stand up, pick up the tea...no, leave it here. See someone sit down with her. Thump back down, drink tea, grimace.
It was the kid, doing the blond and big-eyes act. Slouching over the table and looking up at her. And she was smiling at him. Now he wasn't sure if she was doing that for the kid's benefit or for his own.
Damn, he couldn't think straight. But he wasn't watching her anyway, so it made no difference. Just relaxing after dinner, drinking his tea.
They laughed and his gaze snapped back to see her touch the kid on the arm. He should go over anyway. Sit down, shove the kid away, hey lady is this guy bothering you.
She'd bite his head off, but it might be worth it. Sure, why not?
"Not again." Someone climbed over the bench and sat down next to him. Name...he was bad with names. A pilot, wiry, dark hair. "It's such a waste." Wedge. Right.
"Making us drink this swill? I agree." Han pushed his mug away.
"That too. Them. Luke and the Princess."
So, where did this guy get off having opinions about his friends? "What about them?" Bastard.
"Sure, she's nice to him, but she's pure ice at the core. I know the type. She's not going to let anyone get even close to warming her up."
Warming her up. Vividly, Han saw himself doing that very thing, pulling open the strip on her jumpsuit, sliding his hands inside, palming her breasts, spanning her waist, pulling her up against him. You like that, sweetheart, you know you do.
Wedge rumbled briefly in the back of his throat. "And he's got such a cute ass." Now Han did look over at his neighbour. Wedge looked back. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed. I keep running into things, watching him walk away."
Han hadn't noticed, but maybe the kid was worth another look. "So, what's stopping you?"
"Hell, I've been trying." Wedge ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't tell if he's giving me the brush-off or if he's just too stupid to realise I'm coming on to him."
"I'd bet on stupid." Yeah, that would be about right for the kid.
"One of these days, though, I'll catch him in a dark corner and then we'll see just how stupid he is." The bench creaked as Wedge shifted. "And what's stopping you?"
"I'm not interested."
"I meant with her."
Ah. Just what was stopping him, anyhow? "She's just a woman. If she wants me, she knows where to find me." Han shrugged. "What I want right now is a drink."
"Wish I could help you there." Wedge leaned over, nudging Han with his shoulder. "Maybe if we double-team them with The Eye, they'll split up and we can move in."
"The Eye. Real smooth. Don't tell me you're into that Jedi mumbo-jumbo too."
Wedge laughed. "No, just good, old-fashioned adolescent superstition. And sometimes it works." He fixed Luke with a near-unblinking gaze. "C'mon, Han."
Yeah, sure. But at the very least, it would be annoying. Good enough. Han stared at Leia. Come on, turn around, look at me, leave the twerp. Well, that was unfair. The kid, then. Leave the kid. Han's eyes lingered over her dark hair, the creamy lines of her face, the swell of her breast. Beautiful, she was so beautiful. The thought pierced him like a needle, going deeper than he thought was possible. How much would it hurt to pull it out, to read samples from the deep layers of himself? Too much. Concentrate on being a nuisance. Han put on his most infuriating grin.
"I think it's working," Wedge muttered.
Luke and Leia got up and left the meal hall together.
"Working?" Han glared at Wedge. "They're probably looking for a dark corner right now."
"Relax. Likely she's just dragging him along to fetch and carry on an inspection tour."
"We'll never know, will we?" Han picked up his mug and started to drink. "Damn, this stuff is even worse cold." He resisted the urge to pour it over Wedge's head. "A pleasant evening of surreptitious ogling shot to hell. And please don't tell me we're going to follow them because that's just stupid."
"No." Wedge leaned back a little, turned, smiled. "I enjoy the chase and all, but I'm getting a little impatient. You must be too." His eyes locked onto Han's for a long moment. His hand slid onto Han's thigh. "You want something to tide you over?"
This was interesting all of a sudden. Opportunity knocking on an unexpected door. If there was one thing Han had learned over the years, it was to seize the chances he got. Of course, that was how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. But he was damned horny these days. Wedge's hand was heavy and warm. What the hell, life was too short. "Do you have a roommate?"
"Not anymore," Wedge said and frowned a little. "Come on, before you change your mind."
So they got up and left the dishes on the table. Wedge walked ahead, Han followed him, watched him. The man didn't have such a bad ass himself. Han smirked. Anticipation heightened with every step and by the time they were on the other side of Wedge's door, he was hot and he was bothered and he was ready to go.
He wasn't alone. Wordlessly, they fell on each other, cheek to rough cheek, chest to pressing chest, thigh to hard thigh. The hands pulling aside his shirt, stroking his too-hot skin -- it didn't matter whose they were, so long as they didn't stop. They touched until they were naked together on the bed, rolling and tangling so they were in danger of falling off the narrow mattress.
Han took in the textures of the other man's body -- smooth skin, wiry hair, knots of muscle, hard bones too close to the surface, puckered bumps of scar tissue, old and new. They really should have been drinking for this, Han thought, not drunk, but a little high. So that it would be easier not to think. But the feel of a body moving under his own fingers, reacting to his touch, it was intoxicating in its own right.
His mouth, more teeth than lips, found Wedge's shoulder, took hold of his collarbone. His hand skimmed up Wedge's flank, gripped his buttock, too hard to be a caress. Yeah, a good ass all right. He should have noticed that before.
Then Wedge was turning Han onto his back, hands pressing him to the mattress in a long slow slide down his chest and onto his hips. Han spread his knees and hoped for, yes, felt the hot wet slip of Wedge's mouth over his cock. Han arched his back before he knew what was happening. Where did Wedge get that tongue? Don't stop, never stop, don't stop, he said, either out loud or somewhere deep in the just-barely-verbal parts of his brain.
Wedge stopped. Han almost sat up and punched him. Then a finger, two fingers, really, trailed up and down, brushing his balls on the upstroke, probing his anus on the downstroke. Han looked up at Wedge, crouched there, stark white and black in the dim light.
"I want to do you," Wedge said.
What? Right, do him. Well, if Wedge fucked as well as he sucked, Han would be a fool not to let him. Only... "It's been a while."
"Don't worry." Wedge smiled and bent his head and Han felt hot breath and then hotter, oh, that tongue. Cleaving, pushing, opening him into the darkness of clenched fingers on the sheets and hips that would not stay still. Too soon, he was empty, barren, feeling the loss, feeling his legs swung up to rest on strong shoulders, feeling a stinging slap on his ass. He opened his eyes.
"I think you'll want the pillow, Han."
Sure. Right. Pillow. He grabbed it from beside his head and muscle memory fit it in under his back. Wedge's slick cock pressed against him and muscle memory opened him up and let it in. Then Wedge began to move.
They soon fell into the beat, steady, firm, a drinking song they didn't know the words to, but that didn't matter -- they had the tune. Han was reaching down for his own cock when Wedge took it in hand. Harmony for the second verse.
As Han sank deeper into his own blood and sinews, into his body and out of his mind, he saw her. Saw himself, on his back, saw her, riding him, dark hair spilling over her shoulders and breasts, head back so her throat gleamed white. Felt her tight and yielding around him, heard her call out his name as she came, as he came.
And he did come, with a jerk and a spasm and deep gasp that was probably audible in the corridor. His chest heaved and he stared at the ceiling until Wedge climaxed too, breath hissing out through his teeth.
The moments after were surprisingly free of awkwardness. They lay on their backs, barely contained by the mattress, not talking, just listening until the heartbeat in their ears faded to a whisper.
Wedge rummaged beside the bed and came up with a cloth. They took turns and when he was somewhat less sticky, Han stretched and rolled to his feet. Pulling his clothes out of the rumpled stack, he dressed quickly, hoping he'd gotten the right pair of underwear. Wedge still lay back, arms behind his head, sheet drawn up around his chest.
That was amazing for a one-night, Han thought. Better not burn any bridges with this man. There wasn't anything to say, really, so he didn't say it, until he got to the door. Then he turned back. "Good luck with the kid."
"Thanks," Wedge said. They smiled at each other. Han left.
On the way to his room, he met Leia. He didn't care. He didn't speak, either, just grinned broadly at her frown and brushed against her as he passed. Could she smell it on him? With any luck.
In another corridor, he found Luke, standing against the wall, lost in thought. Han breezed past him with a wave. Kid had no idea what he was missing, but Han was damned if he'd fill him in. Not yet, anyhow.
Chewbacca was already in their quarters and he was steamed.
"Sorry, Chewie, I didn't know you were expecting me. What's up?"
From a sack, the Wookiee produced a bottle and set it on the table. Meriseian whiskey.
Perfect. "Chewie, I love you. Open it up."
Chewbacca poured out and they raised their glasses.
"The Rebellion," Han said and they drank.