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kathierif_ficTitle: Blind Trust
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic
Fandom: Star Wars (original)
Pairing: Han Solo/Luke Skywalker
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: blindfolding, slash
Word Count: 2154
Summary: He only trusts Han to bring him back from the edge.
Author’s Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo, for the prompt sensory deprivation.
“Is this okay?” Han asked and brushed his fingertips, rough and calloused from his long years as smuggler and the many repairs the Millennium Falcon had required, along the edge of the rough cloth he’d used as a blindfold.
It was, Luke thought, probably some sort of rag Han had found lying around; it smelled like grease and the familiar smell of the Falcon. It smelled like family and like safety, the two things Luke craved and made him seek out Han in irregular intervals, whenever the life of a Jedi Master threatened to overwhelm him and he felt as if he was losing his grasp of the light side of the Force.
He took a moment to think about Han’s question before answering it.
He was dressed in an old, faded tunic that was soft to the touch and loose pants made from the same material. His feet were bare, his hands empty and loose by his sides. His shoulders were still tense from too much worrying, too many fights and too much politics, although the worst of the tension had bled out of him when Han had given him that knowing look and had found a reason for Luke to come back to the ship with him, where he had collected Luke’s clothes and his lightsaber and had given him what he was wearing now. The blindfold Han had put on him was tight, but not too tight, a few strands of hair had been caught in the firm knot at the back of his skull, despite Han’s carefulness.
Inhaling deeply, he took in the familiar smell of the ship around him and Han, and nodded.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “This is okay.”
“Good.” Han sounded grumpy, but Luke didn’t need to see into his eyes to feel the worry come off Han’s body in waves. Luke took another deep breath and exhaled again.
“Good,” he parroted, his voice soft. He sounded exhausted, even to his own ears, his voice trembling slightly. It was something he hadn’t been aware of before, but now, with his sight taken from him, he realized that his voice had been like this for a while now – it wasn’t much of a surprise that nobody was taking him quite seriously anymore, including his own students.
“Good,” Han said again. “Now strip.”
Luke didn’t hesitate. He’d asked Han for this and there was no reason not to obey the command, and Luke was certain that he would do a lot more if it meant that Han wouldn’t stop giving him this whenever Luke asked for it.
Quickly, he took off his pants and tunic, folded them carelessly and placed them on the chair behind him. He didn’t need to see for that – he’d been on board of the ship for long enough to find his way around, even blindfolded.
Han sighed – the sound came from somewhere to his left, but Luke hadn’t heard Han move – neither the sound of his boots on the metal floor plates, nor the telltale rustling of Han taking those boots off, which meant that Luke was facing the back of the Falcon and Han was looking past him, in the direction of the cockpit. He was probably leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, Luke thought, the knowledge of his exact position giving him security, and he smirked a little under his blindfold.
“What are you grinning about, kid?” Han asked. He sounded, to Luke’s ears, vaguely amused, as if he enjoyed seeing Luke like this.
“Skipped a few meals, didn’t you?” he continued, and suddenly, a broad, warm hand brushed along Luke’s clearly visible ribs and over the deep hollows in between them.
Luke shrugged. It had been a few busy weeks, and he was a Jedi – skipping a meal or two wouldn’t hurt him in the long run. However, with Han’s hand resting against his skin, he had to fight the sudden urge to apologize for his appearance.
“That’s what I thought,” Han muttered. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good sometimes.”
Luke opened his mouth to protest, to ask what Han meant, even if he had a pretty good idea who the other person Han was talking about was, but before he could say a single word about the fact that he wasn’t stubborn, he was a Jedi, they were resilient, not stubborn, his shoulders were grabbed and he was spun around several times, until Han was certain that he’d lost his orientation.
The problem was, Luke realized as Han grabbed his elbow and guided him in one direction, that he had succeeded, and without sight and without a sense of orientation, Luke suddenly felt less like a Jedi Master and more like the naïve farm boy he’d been at their first meeting.
Han ran his fingertips down the bumps of Luke’s spine before he moved away. Luke could hear his steps over the thrumming of his own heartbeat, and he struggled hard to take deep breaths and relax.
He knew he was safe with Han and that nothing would happen to him, but he still had no idea where Han was going and what he was doing, and it made him nervous, no matter how hard he tried to stay calm and relaxed.
Han’s steps slowly returned to his side.
“Listen, kid,” he said and pressed dry, cracked lips against Luke’s temple, “I’ll be here the entire time. You know what you need to do to end this, right?”
Luke frowned, confused by Han’s words, and bit his lip, but he nodded. He knew he was safe with Han, no matter what. That was the reason why he could allow Han to see him like this, why he could allow himself to do this.
“I know, Dancing Hutts - what are you…”
He didn’t get to finish the question before the headphones were dropped over his ears and suddenly, Luke found himself not only in total darkness, but in total silence as well.
This was new.
His heart beat a rapid rhythm against his ribcage, too rapid, he thought uncomfortably. The phrase that would end this - Dancing Hutts - was at the tip of his tongue, but when he opened his mouth, no sound escaped – no sound that he could really hear. It was like a nightmare, caught like that, and the panic made sweat break out all over his skin.
When a warm hand was placed flat between his shoulder blades, Luke almost jumped out of his skin. It took him a long, agonizing moment to realize that it was Han’s hand – he was safe, he reminded himself, and he was a Jedi, he had no reason to panic. It had to be Han’s hand on his body, moving over skin and scars with gentle pressure, mapping his body out, its intent apparently to soothe away the stress and wake other things in him; things that had been dormant for too long.
Luke’s focus narrowed on the sensation of Han’s hands on his body – the slight catch of his calloused fingertips against the sensitive inside of his arms and thighs, against his balls and the smooth skin behind them, the warmth of it when Han placed his full palm against Luke’s stomach, the shocking jolt of arousal when Han pinched, suddenly and unexpectedly, a nipple.
Luke didn’t know how much time had gone by when the hand that wasn’t rolling his balls in its palm finally closed around his length and stroked slowly, from the root to the tip and back, again and again, until Luke’s hips were snapping into the contact and he was moaning breathlessly.
He didn’t hear what Han was saying, but Han was pressed so tight against Luke’s sweaty back that Luke could feel the vibrations travel through his body when Han was speaking. Han’s fingers closed around the soft tip of Luke’s dick, and Luke felt how his own control slipped, slipped beyond his fingertips, and finally crashed and broke.
He didn’t know if he’d screamed, yelled, prayed or pleaded, but his throat ached in a vaguely familiar way when he slumped back into Han’s embrace, trusting his old friend to hold him upright. All tension bled out of him as his knees buckled, but Han’s arm around his waist was warm and strong and familiar, and suddenly, Luke found himself instinctively reaching for the Force in a way that had become harder and harder over the span of the past few weeks. Suddenly, it was flowing freely through him again, unhindered, and Luke almost wept at the sensation of peace that filled him; peace and vitality and strength.
He couldn’t imagine a life without the Force – losing it was worse than losing a limb had been, and only now did he realize that he had been on his way to losing it. Regaining his full access to the Force was like a breath of fresh air in a place where there had been no air previously; like the first little green leaf in a place that had been barren and dead before.
He stretched his senses out, unhindered by stress and responsibilities, and felt the people around him, and it almost made him weep with joy.
He felt Han, still a comfortable and strong form behind him, but now he could feel even more of the other man – his love and worry, and the stubborn wish to protect his loved ones.
There was even more.
Carefully, Luke stretched out his senses again – he now realized where they were, as well – and straightened again. Han only reluctantly let him go, still worried that Luke might be too unbalanced to stand on his own, but Luke had found his balance in the Force again, and it allowed him to regain his physical balance, as well.
He turned around, to face Han, and gracefully slipped to his knees. He knew what Han wanted, what Han needed, both from the whisperings of the Force around him and from the many years of being with Han and observing him in all sorts of situations, and he was eager to give it to the other man. His fingers were quick and confident when he pulled Han’s pants open and reached in to take his cock out, and his mouth was warm, wet and soft around Han’s quickly hardening flesh.
Briefly, he recalled the first time he’d gone to his knees for Han, and how inexperienced he’d been back then. Han had had to guide him, with both hands clenched in Luke’s fair, sun-bleached hair, and had to show him what to do.
However, Luke wasn’t that innocent farm boy anymore, and he had picked up several tricks since then. Han’s fingers still tangled in his hair, but they didn’t guide him any longer. They just rested against his skull, forming a connection between them and anchoring them both.
Luke brought Han to orgasm with quick licks of his tongue and hollowed cheeks, reacting to the cues the Force and Han’s body gave him, and when Han came, calling out Luke’s name and some very inventive curses in Huttese that Luke didn’t hear with his ears, but still understood through the Force, Luke swallowed the bitter fluid, licked Han clean until the grip on his hair gently pulled him off and then he sat back on his heels, waiting.
It was one of the rules – he wasn’t allowed to take the blindfold off himself, unless they were in danger. Han had, back when they’d done this for the first time, explained in great detail what would happen to Luke’s ass if Luke didn’t follow this one order, and even now, years later and with all the things he’d seen and experienced, Luke didn’t quite dare to risk Han’s wrath. He knew that Han and Leia had a similar agreement, and several statements Han had let drop over the past few years indicated that bringing him back from the edge was easy, compared to his sister.
He didn’t have to wait for long until Han removed the headphones and the blindfold, and Luke was patient, wrapped in the force like he was wrapped in the blanket Han had put around him.
Finally, when the Force told him it was time, he blinked his eyes open. He was, indeed, kneeling in the cockpit, just like the Force had told him, Han was in his customary chair and kept his eyes on Luke, ever watchful and worried.
“You back with us?” he asked softly.
Luke swallowed and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he stood. He felt relaxed, refreshed, like new-born, and he knew that he owed it to Han.
He took a deep breath, felt the connection with the Force, and smiled, an open, honest farm boy smile that only a few select people got to see anymore, before he answered.
“I am.”
~end.
Author:
kathierif_ficFandom: Star Wars (original)
Pairing: Han Solo/Luke Skywalker
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: blindfolding, slash
Word Count: 2154
Summary: He only trusts Han to bring him back from the edge.
Author’s Notes: Written for
kink_bingo, for the prompt sensory deprivation.“Is this okay?” Han asked and brushed his fingertips, rough and calloused from his long years as smuggler and the many repairs the Millennium Falcon had required, along the edge of the rough cloth he’d used as a blindfold.
It was, Luke thought, probably some sort of rag Han had found lying around; it smelled like grease and the familiar smell of the Falcon. It smelled like family and like safety, the two things Luke craved and made him seek out Han in irregular intervals, whenever the life of a Jedi Master threatened to overwhelm him and he felt as if he was losing his grasp of the light side of the Force.
He took a moment to think about Han’s question before answering it.
He was dressed in an old, faded tunic that was soft to the touch and loose pants made from the same material. His feet were bare, his hands empty and loose by his sides. His shoulders were still tense from too much worrying, too many fights and too much politics, although the worst of the tension had bled out of him when Han had given him that knowing look and had found a reason for Luke to come back to the ship with him, where he had collected Luke’s clothes and his lightsaber and had given him what he was wearing now. The blindfold Han had put on him was tight, but not too tight, a few strands of hair had been caught in the firm knot at the back of his skull, despite Han’s carefulness.
Inhaling deeply, he took in the familiar smell of the ship around him and Han, and nodded.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “This is okay.”
“Good.” Han sounded grumpy, but Luke didn’t need to see into his eyes to feel the worry come off Han’s body in waves. Luke took another deep breath and exhaled again.
“Good,” he parroted, his voice soft. He sounded exhausted, even to his own ears, his voice trembling slightly. It was something he hadn’t been aware of before, but now, with his sight taken from him, he realized that his voice had been like this for a while now – it wasn’t much of a surprise that nobody was taking him quite seriously anymore, including his own students.
“Good,” Han said again. “Now strip.”
Luke didn’t hesitate. He’d asked Han for this and there was no reason not to obey the command, and Luke was certain that he would do a lot more if it meant that Han wouldn’t stop giving him this whenever Luke asked for it.
Quickly, he took off his pants and tunic, folded them carelessly and placed them on the chair behind him. He didn’t need to see for that – he’d been on board of the ship for long enough to find his way around, even blindfolded.
Han sighed – the sound came from somewhere to his left, but Luke hadn’t heard Han move – neither the sound of his boots on the metal floor plates, nor the telltale rustling of Han taking those boots off, which meant that Luke was facing the back of the Falcon and Han was looking past him, in the direction of the cockpit. He was probably leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, Luke thought, the knowledge of his exact position giving him security, and he smirked a little under his blindfold.
“What are you grinning about, kid?” Han asked. He sounded, to Luke’s ears, vaguely amused, as if he enjoyed seeing Luke like this.
“Skipped a few meals, didn’t you?” he continued, and suddenly, a broad, warm hand brushed along Luke’s clearly visible ribs and over the deep hollows in between them.
Luke shrugged. It had been a few busy weeks, and he was a Jedi – skipping a meal or two wouldn’t hurt him in the long run. However, with Han’s hand resting against his skin, he had to fight the sudden urge to apologize for his appearance.
“That’s what I thought,” Han muttered. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good sometimes.”
Luke opened his mouth to protest, to ask what Han meant, even if he had a pretty good idea who the other person Han was talking about was, but before he could say a single word about the fact that he wasn’t stubborn, he was a Jedi, they were resilient, not stubborn, his shoulders were grabbed and he was spun around several times, until Han was certain that he’d lost his orientation.
The problem was, Luke realized as Han grabbed his elbow and guided him in one direction, that he had succeeded, and without sight and without a sense of orientation, Luke suddenly felt less like a Jedi Master and more like the naïve farm boy he’d been at their first meeting.
Han ran his fingertips down the bumps of Luke’s spine before he moved away. Luke could hear his steps over the thrumming of his own heartbeat, and he struggled hard to take deep breaths and relax.
He knew he was safe with Han and that nothing would happen to him, but he still had no idea where Han was going and what he was doing, and it made him nervous, no matter how hard he tried to stay calm and relaxed.
Han’s steps slowly returned to his side.
“Listen, kid,” he said and pressed dry, cracked lips against Luke’s temple, “I’ll be here the entire time. You know what you need to do to end this, right?”
Luke frowned, confused by Han’s words, and bit his lip, but he nodded. He knew he was safe with Han, no matter what. That was the reason why he could allow Han to see him like this, why he could allow himself to do this.
“I know, Dancing Hutts - what are you…”
He didn’t get to finish the question before the headphones were dropped over his ears and suddenly, Luke found himself not only in total darkness, but in total silence as well.
This was new.
His heart beat a rapid rhythm against his ribcage, too rapid, he thought uncomfortably. The phrase that would end this - Dancing Hutts - was at the tip of his tongue, but when he opened his mouth, no sound escaped – no sound that he could really hear. It was like a nightmare, caught like that, and the panic made sweat break out all over his skin.
When a warm hand was placed flat between his shoulder blades, Luke almost jumped out of his skin. It took him a long, agonizing moment to realize that it was Han’s hand – he was safe, he reminded himself, and he was a Jedi, he had no reason to panic. It had to be Han’s hand on his body, moving over skin and scars with gentle pressure, mapping his body out, its intent apparently to soothe away the stress and wake other things in him; things that had been dormant for too long.
Luke’s focus narrowed on the sensation of Han’s hands on his body – the slight catch of his calloused fingertips against the sensitive inside of his arms and thighs, against his balls and the smooth skin behind them, the warmth of it when Han placed his full palm against Luke’s stomach, the shocking jolt of arousal when Han pinched, suddenly and unexpectedly, a nipple.
Luke didn’t know how much time had gone by when the hand that wasn’t rolling his balls in its palm finally closed around his length and stroked slowly, from the root to the tip and back, again and again, until Luke’s hips were snapping into the contact and he was moaning breathlessly.
He didn’t hear what Han was saying, but Han was pressed so tight against Luke’s sweaty back that Luke could feel the vibrations travel through his body when Han was speaking. Han’s fingers closed around the soft tip of Luke’s dick, and Luke felt how his own control slipped, slipped beyond his fingertips, and finally crashed and broke.
He didn’t know if he’d screamed, yelled, prayed or pleaded, but his throat ached in a vaguely familiar way when he slumped back into Han’s embrace, trusting his old friend to hold him upright. All tension bled out of him as his knees buckled, but Han’s arm around his waist was warm and strong and familiar, and suddenly, Luke found himself instinctively reaching for the Force in a way that had become harder and harder over the span of the past few weeks. Suddenly, it was flowing freely through him again, unhindered, and Luke almost wept at the sensation of peace that filled him; peace and vitality and strength.
He couldn’t imagine a life without the Force – losing it was worse than losing a limb had been, and only now did he realize that he had been on his way to losing it. Regaining his full access to the Force was like a breath of fresh air in a place where there had been no air previously; like the first little green leaf in a place that had been barren and dead before.
He stretched his senses out, unhindered by stress and responsibilities, and felt the people around him, and it almost made him weep with joy.
He felt Han, still a comfortable and strong form behind him, but now he could feel even more of the other man – his love and worry, and the stubborn wish to protect his loved ones.
There was even more.
Carefully, Luke stretched out his senses again – he now realized where they were, as well – and straightened again. Han only reluctantly let him go, still worried that Luke might be too unbalanced to stand on his own, but Luke had found his balance in the Force again, and it allowed him to regain his physical balance, as well.
He turned around, to face Han, and gracefully slipped to his knees. He knew what Han wanted, what Han needed, both from the whisperings of the Force around him and from the many years of being with Han and observing him in all sorts of situations, and he was eager to give it to the other man. His fingers were quick and confident when he pulled Han’s pants open and reached in to take his cock out, and his mouth was warm, wet and soft around Han’s quickly hardening flesh.
Briefly, he recalled the first time he’d gone to his knees for Han, and how inexperienced he’d been back then. Han had had to guide him, with both hands clenched in Luke’s fair, sun-bleached hair, and had to show him what to do.
However, Luke wasn’t that innocent farm boy anymore, and he had picked up several tricks since then. Han’s fingers still tangled in his hair, but they didn’t guide him any longer. They just rested against his skull, forming a connection between them and anchoring them both.
Luke brought Han to orgasm with quick licks of his tongue and hollowed cheeks, reacting to the cues the Force and Han’s body gave him, and when Han came, calling out Luke’s name and some very inventive curses in Huttese that Luke didn’t hear with his ears, but still understood through the Force, Luke swallowed the bitter fluid, licked Han clean until the grip on his hair gently pulled him off and then he sat back on his heels, waiting.
It was one of the rules – he wasn’t allowed to take the blindfold off himself, unless they were in danger. Han had, back when they’d done this for the first time, explained in great detail what would happen to Luke’s ass if Luke didn’t follow this one order, and even now, years later and with all the things he’d seen and experienced, Luke didn’t quite dare to risk Han’s wrath. He knew that Han and Leia had a similar agreement, and several statements Han had let drop over the past few years indicated that bringing him back from the edge was easy, compared to his sister.
He didn’t have to wait for long until Han removed the headphones and the blindfold, and Luke was patient, wrapped in the force like he was wrapped in the blanket Han had put around him.
Finally, when the Force told him it was time, he blinked his eyes open. He was, indeed, kneeling in the cockpit, just like the Force had told him, Han was in his customary chair and kept his eyes on Luke, ever watchful and worried.
“You back with us?” he asked softly.
Luke swallowed and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he stood. He felt relaxed, refreshed, like new-born, and he knew that he owed it to Han.
He took a deep breath, felt the connection with the Force, and smiled, an open, honest farm boy smile that only a few select people got to see anymore, before he answered.
“I am.”
~end.