Usual disclaimers.
 
 
 
 

                        The closing deckplates clanged like the door every backwater jail-cell he'd ever been in. Han
                        shifted in the close smuggling compartment, keeping his head and knees bent. The
                        compartments were only about four feet deep, not built to hold two men and a wookiee.

                        In the dark, he groped for a wall to get his bearings.

                        Fur. That'd be Chewie.

                        Metal. There was the wall. He found a lightswitch, but didn't turn it on.

                        His free hand found cloth while it was looking for the other wall. Thin soft cloth over warm
                        skin. The smart-mouthed kid.

                        He let his hand stay where it was, just resting on what he suspected was Luke's chest. That
                        way he wouldn't bump into the kid in the dark. Luke didn't bat it away. The smartmouth
                        seemed to understand the situation and didn't whisper anything either. He did, however,
                        lightly stroke Han's fingers with his own. So that once-over in the cantina had been
                        deliberate. Han hadn't been sure, but now he was.

                        He'd found the shipwide audio monitor switch and set it to "receive" so he could hear what
                        was happening in his ship. There was no transmission out unless he set to broadcast. He
                        didn't let go of Luke.

                        He got comfortable in a half-slouch against the wall, settling in for a long search. He tested
                        his theory a little more by tugging at Luke's shirt. The armful of warm farmboy that moved
                        against him like a solid ghost told him the second scoping had definitely been the real thing.

                        Han made the kid straddle his legs then laid a cautionary finger across Luke's lips, warning
                        him to absolute silence. Chewie's ears and nose would tell him what was going on, but the
                        troopers above didn't need to know. Luke nodded and then opened his mouth to suck on
                        the finger. Han had to catch his breath at the youthful eagerness.

                        The danger and excitement had left Han hard as a rock, and if the ridge pressing against him
                        was any indication, it had done the same for the kid. Or maybe it was just the way Luke
                        swirled his tongue around Han's finger and letting it slide in and out of his mouth that was
                        turning him on.

                        They couldn't make noise and coming would be a bad idea, but a little fooling around would
                        pass the time. Han helped Luke settle into a comfortable position facing him.

                        He couldn't help himself. The memory of that smart mouth taunted him in the darkness, and
                        he pulled his finger away to replace it with his own mouth.

                        Footsteps above didn't shake his concentration on the kiss, but part of him registered them.
                        Almost unconsciously, he was thrusting up, rubbing against the kid with each set of steps.

                        Silence overhead, and then an order for a scanning crew. The footsteps left, and Han
                        reluctantly let Luke go, stealing one last kiss. He drew his blaster.

                        Two long fingers, wet and a bit sticky, brushed across his lips, and he caught the taste on
                        them. He hadn't managed to come, but apparently Luke had. Damn, the kid was hotter than
                        he'd thought! Soft lips followed breathing "eight troopers" across his mouth.

                        Together, they pushed the deckplate up, peering out cautiously, wincing at the light. Luke
                        moved toward him, only to find Chewie in the way, growling about close quarters and cubs
                        in rutting season.

                        The old man surfaced out of the other compartment where they'd stashed the droids and
                        said something about getting the tractor beam knocked out. Han was sharper than
                        necessary with the old fossil. He was too distracted to pay much more attention.

                        Oh yeah, the kid was trouble all right. But he was cute trouble, and sexy trouble, which were
                        Han's favorite flavors. He shut that down and began to listen to the plan that would get him
                        off this battlestation. Because once they were off, it was going to be a lot of fun to see
                        exactly how much trouble he could find.