padawannabes | [open post] Training camp/barracks

"I haven't absolutely talked myself out of it yet," Luke says, because yes, he's stubborn. And besides, both of them need the mood lightened. Not that that's likely to do it.

It occurs to him, perhaps slightly belatedly, that Sinjir could have him pegged as a mark. Be backing into manipulating Luke into that very thing. It's not the first time he's been approached for favors, though it would definitely be the most original. Still, there's no hint of that in the Force. Just... fear. An aching sense of unbelonging.

"Then we make a plan," Luke says decisively. "We... come up with a better defense. I know you think you brought this on yourself, but we're going to fight it. Somehow."

Someone has to know something. Leia. He can ask her. Later--right now, he's been needing to be closer to Sinjir since the whole "want you" think came out, and he's not wishing to resist anymore. And yes, he knows this is making things harder when he approaches and sets his glass down next to the sofa.

"I did bring it on myself," says Sinjir. "I did all of those things. And I really don't want a judge or a jury examining it." Because that would mean that he's forced to examine those things himself, to go through the memories with exacting precision. That sounds terrifying.

Sinjir looks up, to Luke, a little wary. "Oh, no," he says, "you come over here, and I'm not going to want to stay upright and conversing."

He doesn't necessarily mean sex. (Though, that would be more fun than talking about this.) He half wants to get sweaty and naked with Luke, half wants to just curl up against him and close his eyes.

"You say that like it's an undesirable outcome," Luke says. But he stops, and leans against the arm of the sofa, because he feels restless now and like he needs to be doing, so even a change of position is something. There's still wine in his glass--he leans over to pick it up again.

He's not sure he's ever been told he's that distracting, and he tries to ignore the heady feeling that gives him, because it's certainly not the point of any of this except inasmuch as it points out how susceptible he himself apparently is to that kind of attention.

"Fine," he sighs. "Talk first." It's Sinjir's fault, Luke thinks, for letting him in on what he'd been missing. Again, not the point. "There has to be something. If I'd gotten out when I'd wanted... if I'd gotten to the Academy, if they'd found out what I can do before I did... I'd probably be dead, or facing something similar. But Sinjir... someday, you're going to have to face this. I can understand why you wouldn't want to do it publicly, but I mean you. I know you've changed. But I also know you blame yourself, and can't forgive yourself. Whatever punishment they dole out, it's nothing compared to what you're putting yourself through. So what do we do? I can talk to Leia, tomorrow. Maybe she'll know."

Sinjir gives Luke a look. The look of someone in a terrible amount of pain, and he'd been doing so good just keeping it low-level suppressed. Drinking to take the edge off.

"Look at that," he says, leaning his head heavily back against the back of the chair. "You read my mind, and didn't even need the Force to do it."

He doesn't think that was Force-driven, anyway. He thinks that he's just plain and transparent, and more than a little bit pathetic.

"I have a sneaking suspicion," he continues, rolling his head slightly so that he's looking to Luke again, "that a trial is the only fair way to do this. Which is precisely why I would like to never have one. The things I did should be illegal. Always."

The look makes it even harder for Luke to not go to him. He wants to ease that pain somehow, but the sort he can do here and now is just like the wine. A distraction. Luke's thinking, though, that Sinjir wouldn't be here at all if that was all Luke was.

"I didn't read your mind, not that way. I wouldn't do that. It's just that..." He searches for a way to express this. He hadn't known any of it, when just acquainted. (And what are they now? he wonders, with no answer.) "We... let each other in, somehow. No one talks to me the way you do. You see me in a way no one else I know does. And... you let me see a bit of you."

It's more complicated than that, because yes, there are impressions in the Force, and now he's a lot less distracted by the question of Sinjir wanting him at all.

"And of course they should be illegal. So should basically everything Vader ever did in service to Palpatine. So was everything I did the past four years, under Imperial law. Not to mention current law, if they want to take a close look at my choices. Look, I'm not a lawyer. I'm more concerned with what someone's going to do now than what they did. But that's hardly a system of government." Luke sighs, one hand fisting and punching softly at the arm of the sofa next to his leg. "I'm sorry. I just want to fix it, and that doesn't help you at all."

Oh, no. This is even more of a disaster. Luke can be someone special to Sinjir, that's allowed, but Sinjir can't have become someone special to Luke. How could it be that no one listens to him the way Sinjir does? Sinjir's sort of a bastard, really, an odd mix of perceptive and blundering, and he doesn't care the way Luke does. His role, and his abilities, are much better suited towards being someone's indulgence.

"It would help me," corrects Sinjir, softly. "It would just create a whole host of other problems that I then would have to help solve. Meanwhile, I'd much rather pickle myself in alcohol than make an effort to face... anything."

Luke, meanwhile, isn't sure why someone like him would be anything but an indulgence to someone like Sinjir, who is smarter and more worldly and cynical in a way that, he thinks, should preclude interest in a farmboy catapulted to dubious hero status. But there it is--Luke cares, and it's not something that gets turned off easily. Everyone in his life right now treats him with deference and respect, with a few notable exceptions, and those are notably not arriving at his doorstep with crises and sexual attraction. For really good reason.

"That's what I mean," he says, "not in the long run. Kind of like the booze. You're going to have to try a lot harder than this to actually kill yourself, which I don't think you want, either." He looks down, realizes his glass is empty and thinks that Sinjir is probably a bad influence on him. Putting it down, he crosses his arms. "I know how fond you are of hard questions, so I'll ask one: why did you come here?"

Sinjir's already answered this, but not, Luke thinks, adequately.

"It's not as simple a question as you think," says Sinjir, a little crossly. "In terms of timing, and the actual impetus to make it all the way here, the answer I gave is the full answer. In terms of everything else, the reasons are constantly shifting and self-contradictory. I could easily convince myself that one reason was the real reason all along, but the fact is that I'm not of one mind."

Presumably Luke is going to want to know what minds he was of, exactly.

The wine - not indulged in before Sinjir landed the ship, so he could get it on the ground with landing struts and repulsorlifts intact - has finally fuzzed him, gently, such that facing everything isn't quite so absurd.

"I wanted you," he says. "I wanted to warn you off of me. I wanted to find out how you're managing. I wanted to know what you had to say about the pardon, or lack thereof. And, from there, my thoughts get steadily more ridiculous and steadily less relevant, so I'll refrain from continuing."

"I was being sarcastic about the fond part, not the hard part," Luke says, but he's well aware Sinjir doesn't know himself and part of him wants to hear the 'more ridiculous and less relevant' but that's probably wine talking.

This is a mess.

"Noted with surprised pleasure," he says, finally, going through the list. "Warning not heeded. Asked and answered, if vaguely, on both counts." So, we're back where we started, Luke thinks, only with even more contradiction. "We're not going to solve this tonight, but we're going to figure out something. I'm just... I need time. And less wine. So is this the part where I can come over there?"

Sinjir sighs, as though quite put-upon. "I suppose."

A beat.

"Or we could retire," he says, a little more hopefully.

Not much about this night should make Luke happy. In fact, he's pretty upset about most of it, and frustrated by the lack of answers. But he's not going to be able to meditate on it in this state, and it seems like a really great idea to get in deeper than he already is.

He pouts a bit. "That's right, put it on me. Luke Skywalker, secret corrupter of drunk cynics." Despite everything, and all the questions, and all the very good reasons this is a very bad idea on both sides, Luke can't help but be more than a bit drunk at the idea that Sinjir has come back for more. That there's something to him other than naive farmboy or respected hero or calm Jedi. Or maybe last time Sinjir had taken him apart, he'd been put back together wrong. Either way, now he lets himself cross the distance and lean down to Sinjir's ear.

"I've been hoping you'd come back ever since," he says quietly. "I really didn't think I'd see you again."

Sinjir feels a little bit breathless, suddenly.

"Didn't anticipate it, honestly." He only briefly turns away, finishing the last sip of wine, before he moves to his feet. The kiss is brief, like a greeting, a taste, and then he noses against Luke's throat, breathing in the smell of him. It brings back vivid, visceral memories. "You're under my skin."

'Anticipate' isn't the same as 'hope' or 'wish', and Luke's keenly aware of the difference when he meets Sinjir's lips eagerly. Their foreheads press together as he speaks again, and Luke flushes. He'd never imagined he'd made such an impression. As many times as he'd thought of Sinjir, he'd been careful to place himself as the flavor of the night. It didn't do Luke any favors to preserve specific hopes for the future--he'd learned that well.

"You're not alone," he says, and he means it in every possible way.

Sinjir is just too afraid to believe him. Allowing himself to accept the possibility of companionship, and then having it dashed, would be much worse than never accepting it at all.

"So do Jedi sleep in beds, or," he says, jokes, not really wanting to stand here or talk.

"Actually, we hang upside down like Loth-bats," Luke says, tugging Sinjir towards his room. "But for the sake of appearances, and fortunately for you, I have one." In his own room, even. Luxury, and something he's never been more grateful for.

It's small, spare, but it's cozy and private. Even so, Luke's also grateful he'd gotten rid of everyone tonight, and wonders if he'd known somehow. This is probably horribly inappropriate but he doesn't care. Luke Skywalker's lurid sexual assignation at his own training facility, with a war criminal no less, could be a scandal. But he's so tired of being someone who can't simply follow his own desires.

He backs Sinjir up against the bed, bolder than the last time, hands sliding under his shirt.

And Sinjir doesn't wait, like last time. Doesn't linger with his clothes on. His hands are on the buttons right away, tugging them apart as he meets Luke in a kiss, deep and wet. His eyes are blown dark.

"Ooh, Master Skywalker," murmurs Sinjir, "how bold of you."

Yanks the shirt off of his own shoulders, reaching to get his fingers in Luke's hair and turn the kiss into something rougher.

It surprises him, though it shouldn't. No, perhaps what's more surprising is how he likes it. The energy isn't violent, it's passionate and no one's ever felt this way for Luke Skywalker. Which makes Sinjir's comment all the more groan-worth, which he does.

"Please don't call me that," he mutters after a prolonged re-exploration of Sinjir's mouth. "The last thing I need is for the headline to include that thing where you pretend someone's someone else."

Plus, they're the last thing he wants to think about, right now. He's been shrugging himself out of his shirt as Sinjir grabbed his hair, and he strips it the rest of the way off and starts on Sinjir's pants.

"Aren't you a Jedi Master?" counters Sinjir, with a laugh. "Hardly roleplay."

Sinjir's a little clumsy in the way he kisses, how he squirms out of the rest of his clothes. But, oddly, somehow, even the clumsiness seems calculated. Layers on layers of falseness, of careful facades, that Sinjir can't take off as easily as the clothes he shucks away.

He pulls Luke with him back onto the bed.

"I'd really like to ride you." This is truth, and pushing the truth out through his clumsy tongue takes an effort. He glances up to Luke's eyes. "Really, a lot. Can we do that?"

"Yes, but you're not my student," he says. He can feel that there is a facade, but he's sure Sinjir has reasons to hold back, and he doesn't push because he's afraid of this being taken away. Even if part of him wishes they both had the luxury of letting Luke, in turn, take Sinjir apart. In his own, very different way, of course.

Luke of course is still inexperienced but most everything he's learned, he's learned from Sinjir, so he has some feel for the angle of mouths, the scope of their bodies together. This is new, though, Luke straddling Sinjir's legs, pants too tight now as the confession rips a groan from him. It's a strange reversal, and there's some sort of meaning in that which eludes him right now.

"Yes," he says, sounding slightly strangled as he runs his hands up Sinjir's chest and their eyes meet. The answer was always going to be yes. The other man had liked his boldness before, so, "I want your cock in my mouth. Before or after?"

The question gives him a visible reaction: his hips twitch up, pressing his length against Luke's thigh. It takes some effort not to let out a few soft curses.

"Before," breathes Sinjir, "especially if you'd like to see how many times you can make me come." The answer, he suspects, might be several, because even if Luke is inexperienced and a little clumsy, he has fantastic instinct and an eagerness to please that yields excellent results.

He's still shy, though. Uncertainty. An inevitable obstacle that must be worked past, with virgins. It's better than overconfidence, but still needs some work.

There are so many areas of his life in which Luke cannot permit himself to be shy, or show uncertainty. He's a public figure now, and must present at least the facade of confidence if he's going to do the job he needs to do. But here, in this company, he can admit he is the student, and it's a welcome antidote. And not for the first time, it seems fitting that it's a former Imperial with whom Luke can be honest, in this way. Can stop being the nascent legend he's becoming.

Sinjir's assessment of an eagerness to please is accurate, however, and Luke's eyes light up even as he flushes further. He lets Sinjir feel his excitement, both at a new skill to hone and at the thought of tasting the other man. The idea of attempting to give anything like the sort of pleasure Luke had received. Again, as an application of the Force Luke isn't sure it's the Jedi's original intention, but he doesn't much care and he cares less with each attempt. He's going to need those instincts to guide him.

He slides back down Sinjir's body, keeping his own pants on in an attempt to make sure there's something left to ride. Eventually he's kneeling between Sinjir's spread legs, hands on either thigh and combing lightly through the sparse hair. That lovely cock is in front of his face and, with a glance up at the man's face, he takes it lightly in his left hand and stroked lightly, pulling to reveal the part he was most interested in and leaning over to lick experimentally around the head.

Sinjir adores it when Luke looks at him like this. Makes him feel warm and flushed, like he's walked into the halls of a Mon Calamari cruiser, like he's bathed in it. But it's difficult, too, because it means accepting something about himself that he is terrified to grasp: that he deserves someone who'll look at him like this. That it's all right for him to be happy.

So he absorbs all of Luke's gaze, shows himself off with a little arch of his back, but his heartbeat is shivery with a little nervousness that he can't banish.

He gasps in, soft, as Luke's tongue traces him.

"Do you wonder how much you could do with the Force?" he asks. Twitches, as Luke's tongue slides under the sensitive foreskin. "How connected we could be? If you could get me off with that -- that alone?"

It's so absurdly logical, in an absolutely debauched way, that Luke is both somewhat shocked and a little disappointed he hasn't thought of it himself. Sinjir tastes tangy, salty. Unusual, but not entirely unexpected, having tasted himself on the other man's tongue. He forces himself not to abort his ministrations right away, though he very much wants to answer. The break in Sinjir's voice means he is doing something right.

For that matter, what he's suggesting means in general, Luke must be doing something very right, indeed.

But while he tongues at the head, and finally wraps his lips shallowly around it, he opens himself up and, experimentally, lets his hand fall back as he replaces it with invisible pressure. He's very careful about this, very aware of his strength, and of the fact Sinjir's experience with this sort of power hasn't been entirely positive. So he lets Sinjir feel, too, the thrill and pleasure Luke himself is feeling. No malice, no intent to harm. Just to use what he can do for their mutual pleasure.

He pulls off after a moment, but does not release his hold. "Do..." His voice is a little hoarse with both excitement and uncertainty. "Do you want that?"

[open post] Training camp/barracks

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basically "I CAN'T QUIT YOU"

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[cw: sex stuff starts]

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