The Trace Which Remains

This chapter is almost purely fluff. Just a small intermission. Major deliciousness, though. Lemon!

Chapter 6: ... moments of pleasure...

Anakin Skywalker was absolutely freezing.

He estimated that it was somewhere around 4 in the morning, although there was no chronometer in the tiny, bare cell the Rebels had escorted him to- none too gently, at that. They had demanded that he strip down entirely, and had only returned his trousers and undershirt after scanning them for weaponry. Barefooted, bare-armed, and leaning against a metal bulkhead that seemed to sap all of the warmth out of his flesh, Anakin's new body was having a hard time regulating its temperature.

'Well, for two decades, my vitals were regulated by machinery. It makes sense that my nervous system wouldn't work completely right.' This uncomfortable thought was only one of many that persisted in aching his weary mind.

There was the uncertainty of his future, with the Alliance and with his daughter. There was the fear for Luke's health. And now that he had time to think about it... he found that he had a rather troubling tendency to mull too long on his past mistakes and regrets. For too long he had kept a constant state of activity, forcing him to focus on the present instead of allowing him to reflect- something which he realized was likely to have enforced his notions that patience and contemplation would just slow him down.

So as he shivered in the blank holding cell, he turned his thoughts inward, half nervous at what he would find, half afraid to let the devil's brew simmer any longer unheeded.

Palpatine had played him for a fool- this was painfully evident, and had been for many years. Even as he had seen through the Sith Master's manipulation, he still obeyed, out of his hope that he could still use the old man to gain knowledge, skill, power. He hadn't believed that Luke had been killed- he clearly remembered encountering the boy back in the painful days before his fall- but he had put the boy out of his memory in order to struggle towards his goal.

But his objectives had grown blurrier, hazier, the longer he went without someone to share his power with. His life had grown into a monotonous routine of dominion and unchallenged authority, followed by submission and unquestioned orders from his Master. He had grown into the role of right-hand-man until he wore it like a second skin, underneath his armor and mask. All his life he had been subordinate to someone. Watto, Obi-Wan, and then Palpatine had stood between him and the top- and although he had imagined himself closer than ever to control when he had begun his servitude to the Sith, he realized that he had never had less power over his own life- because he had allowed it to be so. He had sought connections with powerful people instead of working towards his own freedom. But the closer he had gotten emotionally to someone, the more he had tried to control them.

So had it been with Luke. He had remembered the pain that he had experienced upon being told that Luke would betray him- Palpatine had twisted the truth, telling Anakin that Luke planned to kill Padme` for the sake of the Jedi. In return, not only had Anakin attacked the unborn fetus of the boy, he had carried the grudge through over twenty years of separation from anyone he had loved, and the anger had still been great enough to cause him to maim the boy on Bespin, even though at that time, Luke had been innocent of the events in the past. Vader's desire for control had been fed by his rage over long-suffered injuries, and he had taken it out on his son.

His only son, who had taken that painful, hateful mutilation and moved past it, forgiving and struggling to understand the causes behind it. Luke had a chance for vengeance above Endor- he had even had the chance to kill Anakin back in the past, when he knew that Anakin would have become the very thing that had tortured his companions, caused the death of his guardians, killed his mentor with his own blade. Luke could have prevented Anakin from becoming so horrible, so dangerous, but he had allowed the father to live.

'He must have seen something of worth, to have given me his kindness even while I was on the verge of evil. Even while I was wallowing in my own selfish ideas of control, he reached out to me...' Anakin found his mind wandering to his bond with Luke, and he effortlessly caressed the line of warmth that flowed between them, quivering like a musical string that vibrated his heart with a melody that harmonized between them clearly and flawlessly.

The chill of the cell was quickly forgotten as he stretched his senses out for his son, who was sleeping restlessly in the same ship. He was likely in medical, although Anakin had no idea of the true nature of Luke's injuries other than what Sith lightning produced. The boy wasn't suffering, at least not from physical pain. No, it was deeper, more firmly rooted. Anakin yearned to take his son in his arms and rock him until his heart steadied, his mind eased, but all he could do was reach for the boy's Force energies and lay his own over them like an embrace.

****

There was warmth surrounding Luke, and sleepily, he nestled into it, drinking in the solid comfort, the powerful ease of mind that settled his wandering dreams of uncertainty and tension. He softly sighed in relief as he felt the protective love of his father lull him into a deeper, peaceful rest.

****

Anakin smiled blissfully as Luke's nightmares melted away, sending a humming throb of gratitude and satisfaction through their immeasurable link. Anakin quivered at how deep the boy's emotions ran, even during sleep. Anakin craved the warmth of Luke's arms, instinctively longing for the closeness that he knew Luke also was growing addicted to.

Lying back on the coverless metal bench that also served as a cot, he tried to stretch out, but found that he was simply too tall. So he turned onto his side and curled up like a cat, his mind stroking Luke's presence out of a subconscious need for the rich intimacy that the boy presented him naturally. Anakin purred deep in his throat and wrapped his arms around himself, clutching his chest as though he held Luke to him tightly. He knew that he had touched Luke through their bond, because he felt a shimmering shudder of eager pleasure pass around him, through him, soaking through his chilled skin to warm him from the inside.

The contact sent his blood rushing through his veins swiftly, hot and smooth, and his heart pounded steadily. His breath grew uneven as his muscles unclenched. His head grew light as he slowly slipped into a trance-like state of serene communion with his son. He held Luke's heart within his, and their souls twined around each other protectively, soothingly, passionately. He began to rock himself gently, projecting the feeling upon Luke's spirit to intuitively sway the boy's heart softly.

The thrill of touching his son's emotions so closely was a heady excitement like none he had ever known before. He had made love to the boy, so long ago, but he had been young, and hadn't known just where this attachment had come from. He had been unprepared for the overwhelming torrent of passionate compassion that came naturally from his child, didn't expect it, didn't know what to do with it. Now, older, more experienced, and hopefully wiser, Anakin allowed the downpour of blissful love to sweep his heart clean of negativity like a springtime Naboo storm. He welcomed it whole-heartedly, amazed at how vastly his outlook on life and love had changed with only a couple of days. Luke truly was a miracle, to bring his heart from the depths of despair and struggling, mindless subservience so swiftly.

"My son," Anakin murmured, caught up in the feeling of the boy's intoxicating heat. He felt Luke's soft energy sweeping around him, through him, caressing him lightly inside and out. His mind wandered through their connection, seeking out any way possible to repay Luke for this sheer ecstasy. Without moving, he traced tendrils of his soul over Luke's back, trying to pull him closer in their mental embrace. In his sleep, the child reacted, and Anakin felt his shuddering moan, his languid stretching. Anakin's lips quivered with a longing for Luke's tender flavor, sweet spices that swirled through their kiss like a smooth breeze.

He allowed his spirit free access to his deepest fantasies, relishing the way that Luke unconsciously responded to his every desire, his slightest wish. Anakin had to have been dreaming, he thought, because it was too perfect. The only thing that would improve it would be if Luke were beside him in body, as well.

But even that became irrelevant as he closed his eyes, for it was as though they were opened within Luke's heart. There his boy lay, nested within his arms, fitting against him closer than his skin. The youth was within him, kneading his lower back like it were the softest clay, for Anakin felt as though he couldn't move at all except for at Luke's wish. He was more free than ever, but it was because he longed only to bring this boy-angel happiness. He existed only for this child.

He felt silken lips caress his neck, tracing a divine seal on his skin with the tip of a heated tongue. His flesh burned, but it was not the boiling pain of the fires of Mustafar. It was as though Luke's touch brought the fire within him to the surface, warming him and healing his soul. Anakin craved this magnificent torture- to be controlled by one more person in his life. Every time before, it had been the cause of agony beyond belief to be commanded, controlled, manipulated, but this boy brought out every slightest bit of negativity and shattered the pain with his love. He tended Anakin's wounded heart carefully, without haste or malice, and Anakin felt an uncontrollable gratitude surging through him that the youth thought of him first.

Luke manipulated him more easily than anyone ever before, but Anakin couldn't resist submitting to the boy. The control was unintentional, the domination sublime. He opened his heart to this sacred part of him, the part that belonged to his son, and swept his power over Luke in a warm, comforting blanket. Fingers made of light stroked his collarbone, petting down the center of his chest, before splitting and pressing softly against tender nipples. Anakin's clothing was forgotten, the touch was far deeper than skin. He leaned his head back, breathing heavily as the caress sent his nerves racing to relay all of the pleasure to his brain. His loins twitched in response, an erection growing for the first time since his disabling injuries. He gasped as Luke's hands, pressed fully against his sides, stroked down to his hips, to hold them firmly in place.

Hot breath trailed from his neck, down his shuddering chest, over his twitching navel, to rest just above his hardening cock. He trembled at the moist air striking his vulnerability, begging silently for the warmth that the breath promised. Tears leaked from his closed eyes as he was completely engulfed by a tight, hot mouth, teeth grazing over his base, a slick tongue caressing the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his manhood. Luke released his hips, and Anakin brought his legs to rest on the boy's shoulders, resisting the urge to thrust into that burning, skillful mouth.

His mind whirled with the intensity of his emotions, and he couldn't have imagined a greater paradise, but he seemed to recall something Luke once had told him, back when they had been enemies.

"You'll find I'm full of surprises."

And indeed he was. Strong fingers first caressed Anakin's balls, massaging them tenderly, before they moved back, pausing for a moment before they absolutely shocked Anakin. He gasped and released a shuddering moan as a long finger ran along the outside of his hole, petting the nerve-rich skin while Luke continued the mind-warping suckling upon his member. Anakin allowed his body to react fully, relaxing his muscles so thoroughly that he was draped over the youth's shoulders, quivering, but otherwise motionless. Then, he helplessly wept with unrestrained joy as Luke's finger entered him, slowly, carefully, perfectly smooth. He was so relaxed, so ready, that Luke was able to caress the strong ring of muscles without even triggering any defensive reflexes. Anakin panted through his nose, savoring the penetration of his barriers by this amazingly skilled child of his loins. The loins which now were being pleasured so tenderly that Anakin's cries of love were also tears of happiness.

Luke maintained the steady rhythm of suction on his hard arousal, and began a counterpoint beat within Anakin, thrusting first one, then two fingers slowly against him. They went deeper and deeper with every stroke, until they finally hit something that made Anakin's eyes fly open with white-hot shock and desire. He clenched around the boy's fingers, and Luke stopped the thrust, but kept lapping and sucking at his steel. Then, Luke's fingers twitched against that incredibly sensitive point within him, and he let out a whimpering sob of powerless longing. Luke returned the rhythm, but kept his fingers close to Anakin's throbbing gland, pressing against it time and time again.

/Oh, my son... please... more!/ Anakin sent through their link, these words the only ones his mind could form.

/Father... of course... I love you./

The wave of beautiful love that the boy sent him was enough to bring him over the edge, crying out his release desperately. He felt Luke take everything that he gave within him, swallowing it eagerly. Then, the energy blurred, leaving Anakin shaking alone on the cot in his cell, wrapped in his son's Force, satisfied beyond belief.

After his mind cleared enough to think upon his situation, he realized that his pants were probably soiled. Still trembling from the force of his orgasm, he sat up, and, dazedly, glanced down at his lap.

It was completely dry.

Tentatively, he tried to form words. /...Luke?/

He got no reply other than a mental wink.