Work Text:
Orson was a cruel man, Galen knew that now even if he had spent most of their friendship trying to ignore it. In the privacy of his own head, Galen wondered what Orson would consider the greater betrayal: that he had sabotaged the Death Star or that he was in love with someone who was not Orson?
Galen hoped he would never find out the answer to this question. The weakness of the Death Star was buried in layers and layers of blue prints and technical drawings. And Bodhi was away, and even if he had been here, he knew better than to even glance in Galen’s direction when Orson was on Eadu.
“You seem distracted, Galen”, Orson said as they were having dinner in his quarters. Orson insisted on it every time he was on Eadu no matter how inconvenient it was and much Galen wished to avoid being alone with him.
“Work. You understand.” Galen replied. “I cannot change your mind about the exhaust vent? The build-up of radiation would be – “
“What you propose would mean a complete dismantling and rebuilding of the reactor core chamber and push us years behind schedule.” Annoyed, Orson tapped his fingers on the table. “But we should really not talk about work right now, Galen. I haven’t seen you in months.”
He reached out and rested his hand on top of Galen’s. Bodhi sometimes did that too but his hand was small and rough, small scars and little nicks all over his skin.
Galen had to force himself not to withdraw his hand from under Orson’s one. “We’re both very busy.”
“Yes, yes, your work ethic is commendable.” Orson sounded exasperated as if he thought Galen was simply playing hard to get. Bodhi always asked and Galen welcomed the distraction like he had used to when it had been Lyra or Jyn who had interrupted him.
“What did Tarkin say to the suggestions about – “
“I said I don’t want to talk about work, Galen”, Orson interrupted him sharply.
“I’m sorry, work is all I have these days”, Galen lied. Bodhi would arrive on Manaan at some point tomorrow, a water planet. Having grown up on Jedha, Bodhi had never actually seen an ocean before becoming a pilot and Galen remembered how excited he had talked about the experience.
“Not all”, Orson smiled at him and Galen wanted to throw up. Instead he managed to lift the corner of his mouth in some kind of resemblance of a smile. It was enough for Orson who took Galen breathing as an invitation.
He got up and pulled Galen with him, before smoothing his hands down the front of Galen’s uniform jacket, an expectant expression on his face. Galen knew what he wanted, the illusion of willingness, and leaned in first, pressing his lips to Orson’s but putting up no fight when he took over.
Orson always kissed like he thought he owned Galen, body and soul. Bodhi kissed like he couldn’t quite believe that Galen had noticed him, much less reciprocated his feelings. Like Galen made him happy.
No matter how revolting Galen found it, he went through with everything Orson wanted from him. To protect his secret. To protect Bodhi. To atone for not saving Lyra and Jyn.
The sex was the worst, perhaps even more so because the sex wasn’t bad. Orson was a focused and generous lover, lavishing Galen’s body with affection and making sure it enjoyed the experience no matter how little Galen’s mind did. Orson remembered everything from the early days of their friendship, remembered what made Galen moan and writhe and push back against him.
The worst and the best of it was like tonight, when Orson pinned him to the bed and straddled his lap. When he sunk down on Galen’s cock, moaning and gasping and giving a colourful account how Galen felt inside him. When he started to move, cold blue eyes locked with Galen’s as if he could look straight into his soul. When Orson tightened around him and came with Galen’s name on his lips, an expression of pure bliss on his face that would take until the morning to vanish. When Galen felt nothing but shame as he climaxed, which would only worse as his body felt wrung out and pleasantly exhausted.
It was both better and worse with Bodhi, maybe because other than Orson, Bodhi didn’t demand sex every time they had a few hours to themselves. Sometimes he and Bodhi were both too exhausted to even get undressed properly and had fallen into Galen’s narrow bed together only to sleep for ten hours straight still mostly dressed.
Orson always forced him to stay the night, kissing him right after climbing off him, and draping his arms and legs possessively across Galen during the night. As if he wanted to prevent Galen from leaving as soon as he was asleep.
When he had been too young to know better, Galen had found Orson’s possessive nature to be charming as if your partner staking a claim on you was something romantic, something to aspire to in a relationship.
With Bodhi it never felt like that. More than once he had woken up with his head on Bodhi’s lap or his chest and more often than not Bodhi’s hand would be cradling his head but it always felt protective. As if Bodhi wanted to save him, from Orson, from his work, from the demons of his past, from himself.
Before he had shipped out to Manaan, Bodhi had run a hand through Galen’s hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead before he had told him to take care of himself, knowing that Orson would arrive on Eadu soon, knowing that Galen would have to sleep with him. There hadn’t been a single grain of jealousy in Bodhi’s voice, only concern for Galen’s well-being.
Galen knew he did not deserve Bodhi’s worry for him. What he deserved was Orson’s possessiveness and entitlement and cruelty.
Bodhi did not deserve being lied to yet Galen knew how the truth could destroy every bit of trust, every hope that the universe was a beautiful place full of good people. It was Orson who deserved this kind of truth and yet Galen filled him with every lie that he knew.
In his sleep, Orson pushed his face against Galen’s shoulder and Galen wanted nothing more than to tell him every truth as he strangled him. Instead he closed his eyes and counted the hours until Orson would be gone again.
Until Bodhi would be back. And maybe then, Galen would tell him the truth.