Fic: Storm-tossed (Han/Luke, R) (original) (raw)

Stumbled across this on my hard drive today. Blank101's

Title: Storm-tossed
Author: Mina (formlerly writing slash under Vikki. R, but now everything is under one name)
Rating: R, possibly NC-17 if you're straight-laced
Categories: Han/Luke, SLASH, First-time
Timeline: The day after the Battle of Yavin.
Summary: Celebrations, hangovers and rainstorms - it has to lead to revelations, doesn't it?
Disclaimer: No infringement upon the rights of Lucasfilm is intended by this story. No copyright to the characters is claimed, and no money is made.
Archiving: Please ask first.
Notes: First published in Sanctuary Moon 2, 2005.

Storm-tossed

by Mina

A rough shove to his shoulder sent him tipping over the side of the bed to hit the stone floor with a grunt.

"Oww...!"

There was a deep laugh from above him. "Come on, kid. You ain't laying in bed all day."

Mildly annoyed, Luke fisted his hands in the coverlet that was too thin to protect him from the cold of the floor. "Says who?" A small, just-about-awake part of his brain noticed that his voice sounded rough and hoarse. Which was only to be expected, when his mouth felt like something had crawled in there and died.

"Says me." Black boots appeared in his line of vision, and then the rest of Han Solo appeared as he sat down on the cold stone, a smirk on his face. "First hangover, huh?"

Luke pulled the coverlet up over his face. "Go 'way. Am sleeping."

Or had been, before he'd been so rudely awakened. And he'd thought Uncle Owen's wake-up calls had been bad. At least when his uncle had opened his bedroom door to the twin suns and sound of the hydroponics he'd still had a mattress to lie on.

"Can't do that, kid."

Han tried to pull the coverlet away from Luke's face. Luke huffed in annoyance and squeezed his eyes shut against the light. "It's not fair," he grumbled, then groaned and curled up tight when his stomach spasmed painfully.

Not fair, because if Luke'd had a rough night, Han had more than outperformed him. Though most of Luke's memories of the previous night were too fuzzy to make much sense, he definitely remembered Han downing more alcohol than Luke had. Definitely had an image of Han sprawled flat-out on the floor of the Falcon, slurring about some daring smuggling trip he'd done on some random planet or other. The details hadn't survived the alcohol, but it had sounded impressive at the time. After that, Luke's memories became more slurred and foggy. That probably had something to do with the fuel-grade brandy Han had produced from some secret hiding place aboard the Falcon.

"How can you be so awake?" he grumbled.

"Now you're whining."

Whining-!

Luke shoved the coverlet fully back at that, and glared. "Whining!? And whose fault is it that? I feel like I've got a bantha charging 'round my head. You-" He broke off at the smirk on Han's face. Damn. He'd fallen for that one. "What do you want anyway?" He tried to sound gruff and annoyed, but it came out more... croaky.

Han reached out a hand as if to brush away the strands of hair that hung in Luke's eyes. Luke watched in a hung-over daze as something unreadable flickered across Han's expression before the hand abruptly changed direction and clamped around his arm.

Maybe if his brain wasn't so fuddled Luke could've wondered what that meant, but then Han stood up, yanking Luke with him. The world began to spin sickeningly and Luke had to concentrate on simultaneously protecting his dignity with the coverlet while managing not to throw up.

"Ugh..." he moaned, stumbling precariously to his feet. "You-"

"Her Highnessness sent me," Han explained, holding him steady. "They're doing some sort of 'meet the Brave New Dawn' speech at sunrise."

He'd got the first bit. The last bit had made no sense, though. He stared up at Han, bleary-eyed. "Huh?"

A hand ruffled his hair playfully. "Politicians, kid. Take every chance they can to commemorate The Cause. And guess who the star of the show is?"

Though it took a few seconds, it sunk in at last. And when it did, Luke got a horrible image in his head - of Leia standing regal and beautiful as she addressed the Rebels with dignity and pride.

And him, just off to the side, retching.

* * *

Han rubbed at his face again, grimacing at the stubble that scratched his hands. This was crazy. What was the point of having an all-night party after blowing up the Death Star only to pull everyone out of bed at the crack of dawn to make them listen to some rousing speech on Sacrifice and Morality? Only a bunch of idealists would think up something so damn masochistic.

Lucky for him his survival instinct was still intact, despite suffering from the mother-of-all hangovers and a serious case of alcohol-induced amnesia. He shut out the speeches and retreated into his head.

What memories he had of last night forced him to stifle a grin. They might be masochists, but the Rebels knew how to celebrate. It had been a while since he'd been unable to remember the end of a party. Actually, he still wasn't sure how he'd ended up on the floor of Luke's room. Apparently, the kid didn't remember, either.

Han frowned. Either that or he'd chosen not to mention it. Han looked up at the impromptu stage set at the edge of the Maasi temple. Luke was managing to stand up straight. That was an improvement on the slow side-to-side swaying he'd been doing when the speeches had first begun. He still looked a bit pale, though, and shell-shocked. And wide-eyed. Kind of alluring, actually, the way he was biting his bottom lip in fierce concentration.

Han started in surprise. Where the hell had that thought come from? And where the hell had that shot of arousal that had accompanied it come from?

An amused voice in his head whispered that, although the idea of Luke as alluring wasn't something he'd considered before, it sure as hell was true.

Han shifted uncomfortably. The Rebel engineer next to him shot him an annoyed glance and Han made a show of changing his sitting position, muttered something about dull speeches making him restless and fixed his gaze onto a point about a metre above Luke's head. And frowned.

Han's memories of the previous night dissolved into gibberish around the time he, Luke and some of the other revellers had decided to raid Han's secret stash of Corell's Finest that he kept hidden aboard the Falcon (and was normally too sober to admit to, given its price). The amnesia then ended at the point where he'd woken up with a crick in his neck and a numb backside from the cold stone tiles.

The cold stone tiles on the floor of Luke's room.

Luke's room.

Sith Hell. That mocking voice in his head was laughing now.

Han rubbed his stubbled cheeks again, vainly rummaging through the memories he had of the previous night, looking for clues, for all the good it did him. There was nothing before that cold, uncomfortable waking. Before his brain had got a grip on his situation, his body (which, he recalled with a self-mocking groan, had only been clothed in his worse-for-wear shirt and one half-fastened boot) had decided to find a nice warm bed.

As Luke was sprawled over the one bunk in the room, he'd pulled his pants on (not easily done while still wearing a boot) and crept out of the kid's room without really thinking what he was doing. He'd bumped into Leia before ever reaching the Falcon, and duly been sent back to get Luke on his feet for this damn-fool ceremony.

And, now that he thought about it, Leia'd regarded him with a glare that was as icy cold as those tiles had been on his backside. Almost as if his creeping out of Luke's room half-dressed and hung-over in the early hours of the morning suggested something unsavoury to her....

Han snorted. It suggested something to him, too. Question was - had they done more than drink themselves into a stupor...?

Na, couldn't have -

- could they?

The crowd around him surged to its feet and started clapping and cheering. Han stayed seated.

Sex with Luke - he'd remember that -

- wouldn't he?

He looked up at Luke. The kid was still biting his lip, looking lost in thought. Looking alluring. Han looked away quickly, but even as he did he felt his heart rate start to accelerate as all the possibilities of the previous night started teasing him with images that might've been memories, might've been fantasies.

Luke, eyes shut, grinning, topless, viewed from above as if Han were leaning over him.

Luke, head pressed into the pillow with his back to Han, muffled noises coming from him. Noises that sounded like they were begging.

Luke, just his face this time. Mouth open, lips slightly parted as a long, strangled moan was cut short as his breath hitched and-

"Han?"

Only years of practiced nonchalance stopped him from leaping out of his skin. He turned to find Luke frowning at him. "Hey," he said. He looked around. The crowd had pretty much dispersed. "How you feeling?"

The kid ran his fingers through his hair. Han felt his own fingers tingle in response.

"Getting there," Luke replied, hesitantly. "Was I... ah... I mean, did I look...."

"Hung-over?"

"Yeah... was it obvious?" Luke blushed.

Han mentally groaned at the annoyingly accurate voice in his head that noted how cute the kid looked when he blushed. He slung a companionly arm around Luke's shoulders. "Nah," he lied. "You feel like a drink?"

Luke drew away from him with a look of disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You've got to be kidding."

Actually, he hadn't been. He grinned. "Best thing to cure a hangover. Come on, I've got a stash of-"

The sound of a massive crack of thunder split the air, cutting off Han's words. Han turned and looked up, over the tall silhouettes of the rainforest canopy, to see that towering rain clouds had started to block out the sun.

He turned back to Luke, about to joke about how unfortunate it would've been if Leia had had to remain dignified and proud during a cloudburst, but the words lodged in his throat. Luke was pale as a ghost, shaking like he'd rattle himself apart.

"Hey, Luke?" Han reached out and caught his arm. "You okay?"

Luke nearly jumped out his skin when Han touched him. His eyes flicked from the storm clouds to Han, then back again.

"I-" he began, and then the rain began to fall. Big, fat raindrops, that fell with a force of a full-out storm; that bounced up off the stone slabs of the temple when they hit it, and instantly drenched them. Luke whirled on his feet and began to walk - not quite run - towards the cover of the temple.

Han grabbed the corner of his shirt and hauled him back. "Hey, wait," he said, almost having to shout to be heard over the noise of the rain hitting the flagstones. "Kid, what's wrong?"

Luke's eyes were wide with something resembling fear. But it couldn't be fear - nothing to be scared of here. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his head and rainwater running down his face and curving his jaw.

"Can we go in?" He swallowed thickly.

Han frowned. Again. Getting to be a habit, that. "Sure, but-"

Before he could finish, Luke had turned and was jogging into the cover of the overhang. After pausing to wonder what the hell was going on (and not getting any answers out of his bruised head) Han ran after him, caught him before he could disappear into the temple. He had a feeling he was missing something blindingly obvious here.

"Luke?" His voice echoed. There was no other sound in the hanger - everyone else had (sensibly) gone back to bed.

Luke looked spooked. He paced in front of Han, wiping furiously at the water in his hair and on his face. He stared out at the curtain of rain.

Then Han finally got it.

Rain.

Of course.

"That's two firsts in one day - not bad going, huh?"

The sudden change in topic caused Luke to look up, startled. He still looked agitated, and suddenly stripped off his shirt and began ringing the water out of it. Han's throat went abruptly dry as Luke displayed a wet, tanned chest with drips of water trailing down from collarbone to naval. So damn unconscious in his seduction.

Before he knew what he was doing, Han was reaching out and touching that expanse of golden skin.

Luke's head shot up. His lips parted and his eyes widened.

Oh shit, Han thought.

There was a tense, painful second of recognition in Luke's expression, and then the kid was in his arms, plastering his body against Han's and dragging him down to a scalding kiss.

Han wouldn't - couldn't - resist. His hands went into the kid's wet hair, fingers sliding through the bangs, as he pulled him in tighter. He pressed his lips tighter to Luke's, parted them, slipped his tongue inside to get a lick of intense heat and passion. He barely realised his eyes were closed as he pulled the slighter body in towards his as if he could try and mould them together. They broke the kiss, breathed together, and went back in for more.

And it was familiar - oh, yeah, his body remembered last night, even if his brain couldn't put the pieces together for him. Fingers remembered the wet-silk feeling of blonde hair sliding through his fingertips; tongue remembered the hot satin of Luke's lips; nerve-endings remembered how they sizzled when Luke's fingers ran down his back.

Han's skin burned hot everywhere he touched. His erection pressed against Luke's stomach and he hissed at the sensation of it rubbing against the fabric of his pants. He needed... more.

He broke the kiss again. "Luke, I gotta-"

"Yeah, me too." He sounded breathless. He was flushed. Looked damn gorgeous. Han's arousal burned up another level.

Another rolling crack of thunder made Luke flinch momentarily, hands tightening around fistfuls of Han's shirt. His breath hitched. "Han-"

"S'allright, kid. Nothing but thunder."

"I've never seen-"

"No kidding." Han lunged in for another kiss. Was he just a distraction from the rain? Yeah, maybe. Probably. But what the hell did it matter, when he had an armful of wet farmboy clutching at him like he was a life-raft on a stormy sea?

The floor of the temple vibrated with the sound of another boom of thunder. "S'okay - nothing to be afraid of," he said, trying to sound reassuring. Sounded alien to his own ears.

A flash of defiance to match the lightning in the sky flickered across Luke's eyes. "I'm not afraid," he growled, but Han saw a hint there of something more than just pride. Not quite fear, but not far off. "Just... distract me."

Distraction - yeah, he could do that. Something about the vibration in Luke's voice - something about the intensity in his gaze - the sound went straight to Han's groin. His body was acting quicker than his brain. He dragged Luke towards a bank of storage compartments not quite clear of the rain. He didn't really care if the spray of the rain reached them; his brain was focused on one thing alone.

Luke fisted a hand in his shirt and looked at him seriously. "Last night...."

"Yeah?" Han asked. And, denied Luke's mouth, kissed his way down his throat instead.

"Did we...?" Luke started to say, but cut off with a strangled sound as Han's hands found their way down to cupping his backside.

Han chuckled against the skin of Luke's neck. "Yeah. Least, I think so." He pulled back a little - not too far, but far enough to search Luke's face for regret. As if he could stop himself now if he saw it there. "My memories ain't exactly clear."

Luke pursed his lips, as if in thought, but there was a playful light in his eyes. "Hmmm. Nor mine. Might be just-"

"Wishful thinking?"

Luke smiled winningly. "Na, I know what it was."

"Yeah, what?" Han asked distractedly, fingers sliding back up Luke's back, over impossibly soft skin.

"A rehearsal," Luke whispered, with heat in his voice. Han pulled back, shocked by the sultry tone of voice - definitely not something he'd heard before in the kid's voice, but the burst of fire that went racing down his spine decided he liked it. Luke yanked him back down for a kiss. Oh Ghod, Han thought nonsensically, he tastes like sunshine. And I need more_...._

Luke's back hit the damp stone wall and Han was already on his knees before his mind knew what his mouth was intent on doing. It'd been years since he'd had a man. Since he'd wanted - needed - to do this with someone, but as he freed Luke's straining erection his desire notched up another level and he couldn't remember why he hadn't jumped the kid the moment he'd first seen him.

There was throaty groan above him as he swallowed Luke's erection. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation. He grabbed Luke's hips as the kid began to buck in and out of his mouth. Han let it happen, feeling overwhelmed, his own erection pulsing in time to the rhythm. Too fast, he thought, going way too fast. But he couldn't throttle back now for anything. Time enough for slow riding later.

"I can't - I'm gonna...." Luke's voice sounded strained.

Han's mouth exploded with the taste of Luke as the kid gave out a strangled cry. Han opened his eyes and looked up, up the flat tanned stomach to see the kid with his head thrown back and his mouth open and gasping. Fucking gorgeous.

Luke collapsed abruptly, slumping to the stone floor with a gasp. Han went down with him. The kid looked well-fucked, eyes bright and feverish, his bottom lip red where he'd bitten it as he'd come.

"I..." Luke started.

Han leaned over him, his arms on either side of Luke's chest, and cut him off by kissing him.

Luke responded urgently, but then pushed him back. "My turn," he whispered, almost hungrily.

And who was Han to argue? After all, they had a night full of lost memories to make up for.

And there ain't no time like the present.