"You should try to get some rest, Luke."
They were a thousand blurry stars away from Tattoine, and Obi-Wan knew how easy it was to get space-lagged when you'd never been offplanet before; the boy had probably lost all sense of time by now. As if to confirm it, Luke said, "I'm not tired," eyes wide and over-bright.
"There's a bunk in there," Obi-Wan said firmly, nodding at the nearest cabin door. A hard and narrow bunk, to be sure; he didn't think Solo and Chewbacca took on passengers regularly, or at least not passengers overly concerned with comfort. "Get some sleep, then you can practise with the lightsaber."
"I could do that now." Luke got up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I could—"
"Sleep, Luke." He didn't try to push with the force, just looked, and eventually Luke gave up on trying to look right back and left. Obi-Wan shifted where he sat, leaning his elbows against the table. Maybe he'd catch an hour's sleep on that bunk later, maybe not — if he meditated while Luke slept, it should be enough to refresh him.
He had much to think about, and little that he wanted to dream of.
But after only a few minutes, Luke came back out again, barefoot and shirtless, and stood balanced insecurely on the balls of his feet, burning with the restless energy of the young and needing. When Obi-Wan looked up, Luke met his eyes with surprising determination.
"What is it now, Luke?"
"I just wondered." Luke licked his lips. Looked away. Looked again. "Ben. Do you want to..." A faint, shy flush finished the sentence for him.
Obi-Wan leaned back. He hadn't seen this coming, but then he'd spent decades surrounded by the force-blind who were easy to read, and Luke, untrained as he was, slipped through the force currents like a fish through a river. And that was entirely the wrong metaphor for a boy who probably didn't know what a fish was, and was barely familiar with water... and who wanted an answer to his question.
Luke. Obi-Wan looked at him. He had the same amazing brightness his father had possessed once, an effortless beauty that shone from the inside all the way out into his large blue eyes like Anakin's and his sweet smile like Anakin's and his almost tangible innocence like Anakin's... before...
Luke Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker's son, offering to share bed and body with Obi-Wan Kenobi. The answer was easy.
"No. It wouldn't be... right."
Luke, predictably, saw it as simple rejection and turned his head away, a little hurt and trying not to show it. "Because you think I'm too young. You call me 'boy'... you think I'm just a child."
And that very nearly made him laugh, except that there would have been blood in the laughter. "No, Luke, I don't." Not a child, beautiful Luke, almost a man, untrained and guileless and about to be thrust into a strange world. Obi-Wan smiled crookedly. He'd already made so many mistakes. He wasn't going to make this one. "But it still wouldn't be right."
"Right? Who said you got to decide for me—"
"I'm not deciding for you. I'm deciding for me." This one, he would take proper care of. This one, he would protect the way he should.
After a moment, Luke turned and walked away again, disappearing into the cabin. Obi-Wan extended a thread of force that way, just to make sure that Luke was all right, to keep track of him. He'd half expected Luke to go off and make a pouty-lipped pass at the Corellian, or the Wookie, to find a tangle of willing limbs and work out his frustrated lust. Instead he could feel the young man strip naked and lie down alone, curling into the blankets.
About to let go of the connection, Obi-Wan almost missed the first stirring, the first warming, the first move. Then it came again, more clearly, and he understood that it wasn't sex Luke wanted so much as comfort, the comfort of something and someone at least vaguely familiar, and he was listening to that comfort now, hearing Luke touch himself, stroke himself with a sure sense of the rightness of his own pleasure. The most familiar touch of all, and Obi-Wan sighed to himself. Of course. Luke had lost everything he'd ever known... he needed this.
He was also broadcasting raw sensuality in a way that no one who was sensitive to the force could help but feel. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He ought to shield himself, or better yet, shield Luke. He ought to shut the sensations out, but they were so clear... and when he tapped into them gently, carefully, he could feel everything Luke felt.
Could feel the soft caress of fingers moving over throat and chest, rubbing tightening nipples. Warm hand trailing down over a taut stomach, brushing closer and moving away, teasing. Obi-Wan shifted where he sat as Luke trailed fingertips lightly along his erection. Such a knowing touch, and then the young man licked his hand and began to thrust against it slowly.
Steady strokes and one finger in his mouth and Obi-Wan felt it, tongue and cock, knew he should pull away. Luke knew exactly how to touch himself. Luke knew what he liked, shifting his body into a lithe sensual curve, bending one knee, reaching down between his legs.
As the wet finger began to work its way inside in small firm pushes, Obi-Wan almost wanted to protest the sensation, as if he could control what Luke was doing. Not this. No one had touched him there since—
But to Luke it was just something that felt good, something that made his body feel all hot and tingly and full of want, and those feelings moved through Obi-Wan too, sliding up bright and eager against the shadows in his mind. Good, yes, bucking against a slick palm, and that easy stretching, stroking, inside, and the soft moan was Luke's, wasn't it, and when Luke rubbed against that sweet, sweet spot, Obi-Wan jerked and banged his elbow on the table.
That shook him back into his own body and he made an effort to distance himself from what Luke was feeling, heard Luke gasp and smother a cry and come hard and fast. Ah, youth. Obi-Wan rubbed his elbow and tried to discipline his body. At least Luke's orgasm hadn't triggered his. Through what remained of the link he could feel...
Tears. Luke's gasps had turned into sobs and he'd curled up in a damp miserable ball, crying for what was lost, grief coming as easily to him as desire. There was an honesty to Luke's feelings that ached uncomfortably through Obi-Wan, like the pain of stiff joints in cold weather. With a small twist of force, he touched the unquiet mind with peace, and after a moment he could feel Luke sigh, and relax, and fall asleep. Alone.
For a moment Obi-Wan let himself wonder what it would have been like, to have that sweet young man come to him freely, to hear Luke say "Ben" in a different voice. To have given Luke pleasure, rather than just steal a taste of it. Then he shook his head.
He couldn't give Luke what he wanted. Better this way, and he leaned back against the vibrating bulkhead, back into the shadow of his hood, and tried to plan for what was coming, what would be best, best for Luke, best for the future. He couldn't fail again. This time, he had to get it right.