Warnings: Slash, The premise is SLASH, read that again, SLASH, Yaoi, gay
stuff. I'm here, the boys are queer, get over it. Also, some mild bondage.
Also un-beta'd just spell-checked.

Feedback: Always a Treat.

*****
What Dreams May Come
2002 Angelia Sparrow
*****

"If I stare long enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes."
--Rolling Stones, Paint it Black.

*******
 

Jedi Master Luke Skywalker sat on his favorite rock, watching the double
sunset of Tatooine. His shape was a darker lump on the dark sandstone. The
first thing new pupils learned was not to disturb their master at this time
of day.

Even his mate did not bother him, and that was a novelty in itself. The
General was notorious in his lack of respect for the Jedi ways. But General
Solo had been gone two weeks now, on a shakedown and testing cruise for both
the newest transport prototype and the first six graduates of the Jedi
Academy. The more advanced students noted their teacher meditated a lot
more when his mate was away.

Luke stared beyond the sunset, barely conscious of the sudden darkness about
to descend. His mind was half-way across the galaxy, searching the Force,
checking the health of his students. Reassured they were doing fine, he
turned his attention to more pleasurable pursuits.

//Han, are you there?// It had taken years for their bond to grow strong
enough for Luke to contact Han's mind. Now they made regular use of it at
times like this.

The erstwhile smuggler twitched fully awake. //Aah, Luke, I was almost
asleep. Stick around, you could do a dream visit.// Luke felt the wicked
grin that spread across his mate's face. //Like daemcus out of legend.
Beautiful lovers that come in dreams.//

//And suck the life out of the hapless dreamer,//Luke finished for him. //If
you want that, go to sleep and I'll see if I can oblige.//

//Without the life-sucking.// Han warned.

//Maybe.// This time Luke wore the wicked grin as he withdrew from Han's
mind.

Aboard the transport <i>Silivb</i> Han stretched out on his bunk. He'd had
a long couple weeks, keeping Jedi aspirants out of trouble, teaching them
the ins and outs of maintenance and coping with faulty enviro-controls. The
visits from Luke were the only things that kept him on an even keel. He
wiped away a bead of sweat and turned his pillow over looking for a cool
spot.

He yawned again, and settled down, imagining Luke stretched at his side,
curled around him, a slim, strong armful of Jedi Master to keep him company.
Sleep finally came.

The bed was enormous, the type he'd always joked about having imported just
to scandalize the students. Tall carved posts supported a deep blue canopy,
and the sheets were a lighter blue. The bed curtains shaded to match both.

He stretched out on it, naked, slightly damp, having just come from a bath.
The thick kothan sheets were cool and rich on his skin. He lay back, hands
behind his head and stared at the embroidery on the canopy. It depicted the
daemcusar of Corellian legend: male and female, their wings not getting in
the way as they coupled with each other and with human lovers of all four
sexes.

One of the male daemcusar drew his attention back. Fair and beautiful with
blue wings that matched his eyes, he seemed to be staring straight at Han.
Han stared back as the embroidered figure, caught in mid-hover, slowly began
to move.

He seemed to draw closer to the surface of the canopy and then emerge from
it, golden and blue, his wings larger than he was and feathered in a blue
that matched the bed from the dark top to the nearly white bottom.

Han smiled as the daemcus hovered above him. "Good look on you, Luke."

Luke swept down for a kiss, his weight solid and tangible. "Do I need to
tell you how much I miss you?"

Han kissed back with relish. Luke's mouth was warm on his, sweet and slow.
"Nope, don't need to. Tell me anyway."

"I'd rather show you." Luke gasped as Han reached out and ran careful
fingers through the feathers on his wings. "Oh yeah." He practically
purred as his mate preened him.

"They say, if you scratch a daemcus right..." Han groped for the spot just
between the wings and scratched lightly, "here, he'll love you forever.
It's the one place he can't reach and he always itches there."

"Didn't need to scratch me for that. Love you anyway." Luke kissed him
again, savoring the erotic dance of tongue and lips that had him hard before
he broke away to kiss down Han's chest.

Luke hesitated, just below Han's navel, running a teasing tongue along the
underside of his belly. Han groaned and reached out to guide him lower only
to have his hands caught by soft blue velvet. The cords wrapped around his
wrists and drew them up beside his head, holding him as immobile as Luke's
weight did.

Ordinarily, he'd have fought the bonds, but here, in the dream, he was safe,
safe enough to let his mate and his own mind do this. He surrendered to the
softness of bed, bonds and tongue, enveloped in sensation.

Luke felt Han relax and stroked lower, his tongue tracing designs to match
the embroidery of the canopy. A light kiss at the tip of the hard cock that
awaited him, and then he swallowed it, running his tongue under it, pressing
it to the roof of his mouth.

Han strained at the velvet cords, groaning Corellian vulgarities, thrusting
up into his lover's mouth. Luke was capable of reducing him to a writhing
mass of need faster than any other ever had. Here, in dreamspace, it seemed
like he took great pleasure in drawing out the delicious torment.

Luke left off his ministrations, his wings flexing as he stared at his
beloved, stretched before him, all desire and arousal. He loved seeing Han
like this, the lean strong body taut with need.

Han opened one eye and saw the look on Luke's face. He loved it when his
lover got that hungry look, like a starving man facing an eight-course meal.
"More, please, more," he managed.

"More?" Luke ran a slow tongue deliberately along Han's hip bone. "More?
Like this?" He sucked at the head, just briefly, then nipped at the tight
ridge on the underside, making Han's cock leap.

"Oh yeah!"

"Maybe later." Luke's smile was wicked as he ran a pair of fingers over the
opening of Han's body. "I want to feel you around me." One fingertip
tapped at it, and then worked its way inside.

In a dream things are as they should be, and this was no exception. The
finger, and a second slid in easily, as if already lubricated, with no pain,
only spreading fullness that made Han even harder, if such a thing was
possible. Luke had tipped his hips into an accessible position before he
could catch his breath.

"Ready?" The question was a formality, because Luke was already pressing
in, slow and sure, feeling the warmth of his lover around him, savoring the
tightness. He paused, fully inside, enjoying the feel of Han shuddering
around him. His lover's tightly shut eyes and open-mouthed gasps of arousal
left Luke shuddering a bit himself with his own desire.

He moved, taking his time, enjoying the varying sensations, allowing the
build of orgasm to set his pace. Need growing, Luke's thrusts became solid
pounding strokes designed to satisfy him in short order.

"C'mon, Luke, a little help?" Han thrust against empty air, helpless to do
anything but be ravished in this dream. It felt terrific, Luke inside him,
riding him hard, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more, a hand, that mouth,
anything, to soothe the ache.

"In time," came the answer, word tangled with a gasp of pleasure. Luke
found the rhythm he had been searching for, the one that sent him spiraling
up the scale of ecstacy like a building chord of music, to crash into a
thunderous crescendo of orgasm at the top.

Han just stared at his transported mate. He could look at Luke like this
forever, and he held his breath for as long as the instant would last, not
wanting to disturb the image. Luke poised over him, frozen in place, his
head thrown back, eyes shut. He looked like a statue, the only sign of life
the rustling flutter of his wings.

Luke opened his eyes slowly, taking his time to come down. He felt himself
softening and gently withdrew. A sated, sensual smile crept over his face,
and he looked at his lover, spread out before him, awaiting his pleasure.

He studied Han, the tousled hair, the corded arms straining against the blue
velvet bonds. He leaned in and stroked a light wing-tip over the sensitive
flesh of Han's inner arm. The play of muscles under the skin and the
hissing intake of breath signaled the sensitivity of the region.

Luke spread himself atop his mate, pressing as much of their skin together
as he could manage. The feel of Han was water after a hot day, comfort in
the long night. Solid, warm Han, under him. He rubbed against the stiff
erection poking him in the belly, the feel of it exciting.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he kissed Han's lips before trailing the
same feather-light kisses down his chest and stomach. "Gorgeous," he
breathed, the warm air gliding across the taut skin and instant before his
mouth did.

He swirled his tongue around the head, and Han bit back a curse at the
teasing. Luke took his time, enjoying the taste and feel of his mate,
savoring the experience.

Han held back, wanting to shove himself deeper into the teasing mouth, but
not wanting to hurt Luke. This was almost unbearable. He'd been on the
brink when Luke had finished, but it had subsided to dull embers. Now, the
flames flared hotter at the wet touch of Luke's tongue.

Finally, he relaxed when Luke settled into a no-nonsense motion, taking him
deep, pressing hard with his tongue along the bottom. That was exactly
perfect, and he ignited, every nerve singing in blue fire, the color of the
bed, the color of Luke's eyes and wings. He vaguely felt Luke swallowing
and licking gently as he came down.

Han lay in the bonds, drained, as Luke moved over him again. A nod from
Luke sent the velvet ropes sliding back into the nothingness from where
they had come. Han wrapped his arms around his mate, taking care not to
pinch one of the great wings.

"I stole your soul when you were distracted." Luke's voice was honey and
fire, a temptation in his ear. The words took a moment to register. "So
take mine in exchange, my love." He kissed his way across Han's cheek, each
kiss matched with a term of endearment from the many worlds they'd seen.

"A'ruhn." The Old Corellian word for "my heart" marked Han's jaw.

"Ihr-ish-lan." The Illuvian wind-dancer phrase "wings of my soul" hissed
over his cheek.

"Krkkznn." The Devenna flatland buzz of "rain on my lips" hummed against
the scar on his chin.

"Han." His name breathed across his lips, followed by Luke's mouth, kissing
him. A faint exhalation from his lover left Han feeling revitalized and
alive. He shut his eyes and gave himself over to the kiss. He opened one
eye to see Luke's wings becoming insubstantial.

"You're fading out, Luke," he said, trying to hold his lover a little
closer.

"You're falling out of REM. Sleep well, my love." A ghost of a kiss from a
nearly intangible Luke, and he was gone.

Han sank into the deep theta wave state, sleeping soundly and well, a small
smile on his face.

Luke opened his eyes. The suns were down and night was growing cold around
him. He smiled and stretched. Noticing the very visible stain on his
trousers, he wrapped his robe a bit closer around him and headed back to the
Academy, hoping for some dreams of his own.
 

*end*