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Luke whimpers, and Han is quick to console him.

“We can stop if this is too much for you,” Han says, soothing hands running up and down Luke’s taut, sweaty back.

“No, no, that’s not what I—”

He cuts off his own sentence when he picks himself up and drops himself heavily down upon Han’s cock again. His mouth opens in a pained moan, and Han wonders what he did to deserve such a gift. He runs a hand through his sweaty, golden hair.

“Maybe I’m too big,” Han gloats.

Luke opens his eyes at that, and Han sees pinpricks of teardrops on his lashes. He briefly has the idea of licking them away, but he doesn’t because Luke chimes in with his own retort, all the while riding his cock like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

“Not too big,” Luke says, voice gone raspy from moaning and shouting, Han guesses.

Han bites his lip. “Gonna come from my cock alone, or do you want my hand?”

It’s a blatant challenge, and even in his lust-addled state, Luke knows it. Luke smiles wanly.

“Just you, Han Solo. You’re all I’d ever need.”

The kid bends down to kiss him before he can even think of something to say, and Han has to wonder who is really outmaneuvering whom here.