The first time Leia walks in on them, it’s humiliating--in Luke’s book, that is. In Han’s, eh, not so much.
That may be because he doesn’t actually see Leia see them. He’s got his back to the recreation room door and Luke in his lap and he’s focused on more interesting shit than the sound of soft boots on stone floor.
Ok, he might hear the princess gasp--but in his defense, it blends right in with the noises Luke’s making, the sharp, hungry hook of his breath as Han holds his thighs and pulls him down on the spear of his dick, the one that Luke’d spend 20 minutes going to town on, sucking and licking and moaning until Han had cussed in three languages and hauled the kid up for a kiss only to find him stretched already and slick and it’s not his fault that fucking Luke is semi-transcendent, especially when the kid’s big and stiff just from sucking Han’s dick and 100% desperate to come.
He loves it when farm boy gets like this, wild and greedy; when he forgets to be embarrassed by his desire and reaches out with both hands to grab it, to make up for all that lost and lonely time. Somebody should have been showing him this stuff years ago out under the desert suns but they hadn’t and Han had and now he gets to reap the riches of a 19-year old kid who craves being touched, a kid who loves to be kissed and who loves holding his hand and who makes Han feel all kinds of shit that he isn’t ready to name.
But he doesn’t have to; he just thinks it real loud until Luke’s eyes find his and say it back.
So Luke’s arched above him, his hands dug into Han’s shoulders and his little brown nipples sparking under Han’s tongue and yeah, he totally misses it: the hiss of the door, the footfalls, Leia’s sharp intake of breath.
What he doesn’t miss, though, is the way that Luke’s body suddenly tightens, the name that he whispers, the low, dirty sound that he makes:
And then he’s spurting like a geyser, loud and desperate, and for a split second, Han gets this glorious holo of Leia in Luke’s lap and Luke’s hands in Leia’s hair and then he’s surging up, pushing Luke to the floor and shoving back again deep and the look on Luke’s face, fuck; yup, five thrusts and Han is done.
“Leia was here,” Luke murmurs when everyone’s higher brain functions come back online.
The words come out fuzzy. “Wasshe?”
“She walked in and saw us, when I was”--and here the kid goes scarlet, which, come on, should not make Han’s heart turn over--“when we were on the couch.”
Han chuckles, rubs the sound against Luke’s hair. “Hmmm, you mean, when you were treating me like your own personal cockpit?”
Luke hisses; Han feels his dick twitch. Ah, the glorious stamina of youth.
“Well, ok, then,” Han says with a shrug, trailing his fingers up the soft inside of Luke’s thigh. “So next time we lock the door.”
Next time, though, there isn’t a door.
Well technically, there is, but it’s enormous and a good 200 meters away and they’re in an alcove, anyway. Plenty of privacy. Unless someone chooses to round a particular corner. They’ve been banging away at the Falcon for an hour. Chewie still is; Han can hear him grumbling over the din of half the fleet repairing their fighters--until Luke starts moaning in his ear.
“Shhhhh,” he says for the tenth time, slowing his fist and nipping Luke’s lip. “You’re gonna get us caught, kid.”
“Caught?” Luke’s breath is wet and he’s kneading Han’s ass, the helpless way he does when Han fucks him. It’s delicious.
“Yeah. You don’t want some being to hear you howling and come running to see what’s ailing the Rebellion’s favorite hero, do you?” He bites at Luke’s neck, just to prove a point. “We both know how much you’d hate that.”
Luke’s hips jerk and he lets out a pulse of wet and hello, hang on a second. Maybe he hadn’t read that shit right at all.
Maybe he needs to test that theory right now.
“Huh," Han says. "Now that I think about it, though, sweetheart, you didn’t actually hate it before, did you?”
“Her walking in. Your princess. Her seeing us fucking. Seems to me it made you come awful hard.”
A hum, a little squirm that is fucking delightful. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“What? Am I lying? That why your balls are getting so tight? Because you didn’t like her seeing how good you can take it?”
“Han.” His face is hot against Han’s neck; he’s full-on fucking Han’s fist. “Stop it. It’s embarrassing.”
Han nuzzles his throat, the soft place under his jaw that makes the kid melt. “She’s what, Luke?”
A sigh that goes right to Han’s cock. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, she is. And that’s just in her clothes. You ever think about what she looks like without ‘em? All that soft skin unwrapped. Her breasts scooped out of that dress and sitting full and sweet in your hands.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? And so would she.” And so would I, he thinks, fuck; they’d look so pretty together. “Imagine how good you’d make her feel if you kissed them, huh? If you sucked on her nipples and touched her where she’s softest. That hot little place between her legs. Would you like that?”
Luke’s whole body ripples and Han would kill to have him naked right now, to be able to watch the heat peeling down his chest, his skin almost as hot as his dick.
“I know you would, sweetheart,” Han whispers. “Think about it right now. Do that for me. Think about how good she’d taste if you had her like this.”
Then he’s on his knees and Luke’s in his mouth, swollen and hot and good, and he’s coming down Han’s throat with his teeth in his lip, barely, beautifully, holding back his scream, and Han loves him so much that it hurts.
“You didn’t come,” Luke mumbles, slumped against him, soft and clutchy.
“I’m well aware.”
“Mmm. Let me, um--”
Han laughs, buries the sound in a kiss. “Let you what, noodles? You can barely stand up.”
That gets him a poke in the side. “Quit gloating.”
“Who’s gloating? I’m stating facts. And the fact is that all that talk about the princess blew your stack.”
A groan. “Han--”
Han dips his head, whispers fierce in Luke’s ear. “The fact is, kid, that it was hot as all the hells put together and if there weren’t a hundred fly jockeys out there banging metal, I’d be fucking you, honey, right here. But then, you’d like it if I did that, wouldn’t you? You really don’t mind it all, the notion that somebody might see.”
Someone makes a soft, desperate sound--maybe Luke, probably him--and they’re kissing again, Luke’s trousers caught at his knees and Han rutting against his hip and their hands lost in the other’s hair and Han wants to come, sure he does, but he wants this more: to feel Luke’s arms around his neck and Luke’s grin against his own and Luke’s love for him, his absolute certainty that Han is worth loving, surrounding him like a warm, golden wave.
Which is of course right when Leia shows up.
“Seriously?” Her shout nearly blows out Han’s eardrums. And silences the hanger. Fantastic. “Again? What the fuck!”
“Ok,” Han says after the princess stalks off, after the hanger fills with the unmistakable sound of a Wookie laughing his ass off. “So, kid. New rule: sex requires both locks and doors.”
Except Luke, it turns out, really, really does not like that rule.
“I like this,” he says a few weeks later, when he’s ground Han’s resolve down to nothing and dragged him off to a soft, tree-lined glen.
“Of course you do,” Han grunts. “You’re half naked and on top of me. What’s not to like?”
Luke pitches up a little and beams. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Maybe.” Han strokes Luke’s side, rumbles when the kid arches a little. “So say what you mean.”
They’re maybe a ten-minute walk from the main entrance to the base. The weather’s gorgeous and they aren’t the only ones to notice; the generals had given permission for anyone interest to run around for a while above ground. Han can hear laughter in the distance, leaves crunching; the snap of twigs, somewhere, and so, his red cheeks say, can Luke, which is probably why the kid closes his eyes before he says:
“I like that some being could walk by and see us together.”
“Yeah? Why’s that, you figure?”
Luke bites his lip. “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. Tell me.”
“I--you’ll think it’s stupid.”
Han catches Luke’s neck and leans up to kiss him. "Try me. Betcha I won’t.”
They lay quiet for a while; Han can hear the whir of Luke’s thoughts, like the Falcon when she shifts into hyperdrive. It take her a minute to settle, every time. Same for Luke. Then it comes out in a rush:
“I like the idea of someone seeing how you make me feel when you touch me. When your hands are on me, or your mouth, or when your cock is inside me, I feel--” His voice trails away for a moment, then swings back, twice as sure. “I feel beautiful when you touch me, Han.”
This kid. This kid who’s still more desert rat than Jedi, who still looks at the universe with wonder, who can say shit like that to the biggest grifter in the galaxy and mean every word--well. This kid is gonna kill Han, one of these days.
But not today.
Today, this kid is gonna get flipped on his back and licked until he’s begging, begging and beaming and stroking his big, dripping dick. And then and only then is Han gonna kick his boots off and kneel down in the grass and push into Luke’s sweetness from behind and clutch at the man he loves and say what he can’t put into words with his thoughts and his hips and when he hauls Luke back into his lap and wraps his fingers around Luke’s cock, he’s going to bellow when the kid comes, bellow and grip Luke’s thighs and give him everything, everything, every scrap of something good that’s he’s got saved up.
And when Luke falls asleep with Han still inside him, his head hot against Han’s shoulder, his breathing deep and slow, it’s Han who’ll see the princess this time, who’ll see that what’s written on her face, the one she’s not exactly hiding in the bushes, isn’t anger or disgust. Oh no.
“But I think,” he says soft in Luke’s ear as Leia stumbles away, trees parting loudly in her wake, “we’ll save that for another day, huh?”