Wookiee Nookie

Disclaimer: Star Wars is property of LucasFilms. I am not affiliated with them and am making no money from this piece.


WOOKIEE NOOKIE

"Hey, Han!" Luke called out from the doorway. "Aren't you coming in?"

"No, thanks!" Han answered with conviction. "Hokey old religious celebrations won't get us any closer to Hoth. Chewie and I have work to do on the Falcon. You have a great time communing with old dead Jedi Phallustine. Whenever you're ready, we'll be waiting onboard."

"That's Jedi Master Valentine," Luke stressed. "And you might be surprised what a little attention to the Old Masters can do. Valentine freely chose to give up his life rather than surrender to the Dark Side. That kind of spirit could do more for the rebellion than a whole fleet of fighters."

Leia swooped in out of nowhere to appear on Luke's arm. She smiled broadly at the pair in the corridor. "And even if you don't understand the significance of the celebration, you could at least come in and have a cupcake." She waved a gooey pink concoction enticingly in the air.

Chewie roared happily and took the cupcake from her hand. Stuffing it in his mouth, he headed straight to the buffet table in search of more.

"Traitor!" Han called at his back. Leia scooped Han up with her other arm and led the two men into the midst of the festivities.

Han peered around at the pink and red decorations. Carefully, he disentangled himself from Leia's elbow. "Luke," he said, "this really isn't for me. I appreciate the invite and all, but I should get back to the Falcon. With all that's been going on, Chewie and I have a good bit of stuff to catch up on, right buddy?"

Chewie bawled, but picked up a handful of cupcakes and came back around to stand behind Han. He licked one sticky finger free of pink frosting, incidentally spreading even more across the underside of his hand.

"Well, in that case, why don't you take the droids back with you so that Leia and I can enjoy the party?" said Luke.

Han looked skeptical. "I dunno. Chewie and I didn't come to baby sit."

Artoo bleeped in protest.

Luke looked at him in disbelief. "Baby sit! Be serious, Han, they're droids! Besides, Artoo is an Astromech. He could do twice as much with those rickety old systems of yours as Chewbacca can."

Chewie roared dangerously.

Luke jumped back. "Well don't use them if you don't want. But please, get them out of here. They've just been flushed and lubed. I don't want fruit punch spilled all over them."

Han gave a heavy sigh. "Okay." He raised his voice. "Well, come on you two, you heard what he said."

C3P0 toddled over with Artoo at his side. "Goodnight, Master Luke. And goodnight, Your Highness. Pleasant dreams."

"Goodnight, fellas," Luke said with a grin. Han was already out the door with Chewie close at his heels.

"Well, come along, Artoo," said 3P0 as he hurried after them. "He doesn't have all night, you know. The repairs on the Falcon are most urgent. How many times will I have to explain human behavior to you?"

Artoo gave an incredulous whistle, but trailed along obediently.


Back on the Falcon, Han led them all to the provisions hold. "Okay, you two--over there." Han gestured to a relatively free space in front of a bulkhead. "And don't touch anything! That's the new upholstery fabric for the renovations."

Han rummaged through a pile of canisters. "Chewie, did we ever get in that supply of Creico frying fat?"

Chewie barked.

"Well, what about Astroguide multipurpose lubricant?"

Another bark.

"Excuse me, sir," interrupted 3P0 politely, "Are we not to assist you with the repairs?" 3P0 took a step towards Han, accidentally knocking a pile of sheets over onto the deck as he shifted in the cramped hold.

"Hey! Watch it! Chewie, put a restraining bolt on him," Han ordered.

He turned to address the droids. "You two are to do nothing at all, except stay right there. In fact," Han added, "why don't you just shut down for a while, huh?"

Chewbacca snapped the bolt into place and straightened up in the cramped hold. The droids stood quiet and eerily still.

"That's better," Han muttered.

Han continued his search. "How about hyperdrive motivator cam grease?"

Chewie howled.

"I know, but it's the closest I can find. You look, if you're so smart. This is all your idea after all."

Chewie howled louder.

"Oh, take it easy. The droids can't hear. They're shut down. And besides, no one cares how you like it."

Chewie gave a plaintive three-octave wail.

"Well of course, I care," Han stressed. "I meant, no one else does." He picked up the tub of grease and tucked it under his arm. "And I'm sure you're not the only wookiee who likes it up the ass."

Chewie screeched violently.

"I'm sure there are thousands of other wookiees who do. Hundreds of thousands even," Han soothed.

Chewbacca looked at the droids warily.

"Make sure you bring enough towels this time," Han said, as he looked around one last time. He flicked a bulkhead switch, leaving the hold in the dark except for the light drifting through the hatchway.

Chewie picked up an armload of linen and they headed down the passage to their cabin. The door to the hold slid shut behind them.


A few minutes later found Han stretched out on their bed in nothing but a pair of white briefs. "Chewie, aren't you done yet?"

There was a sharp bark from the head.

"Okay. In that case, it's time to exchange the recharger couplings on the deflector shield generators. I'll swap 'em out and be back in a minute."

Han rolled off the bunk. He called over his shoulder, "And don't forget to hydrocleanse your teeth while you're in there. Wookiee breath isn't exactly an aphrodisiac, you know." Han padded out into the passageway.

When he returned Chewie was on the bed, arms extended out to him. "Have you got everything?" Han asked.

Chewie bawled and beckoned with his fingers.

Han stepped out of his shorts and kicked them aside. "Okay, I'm turning the lights out then." He hit the control panel by the hatchway frame, extinguishing all the interior cabin lights. The hatchway sealed firmly behind him leaving them in the total absence of light.

"Ready or not, here I come!" There was a bump and a long scuffle before a voice rose again.

"Dammit, Chewie! Take that off!"

There was a howl of protest.

"What do you mean 'what'?" Han said, exasperated. "This--your ammo belt! The only thing you ever wear for heaven's sake. Now take it off. It's heavy and the corners are sharp. Someone's going to get hurt."

There was a pitiful bleat and a cry.

Han sighed. "Trust me, Chewie. You look tough with or without it. And you'll always be a big, bad, soldier to me, baby. Now take it off, okay?"

Something metallic clattered to the deck.

"That's better. You know I love feeling your fur against my skin." A gentle rhythmic rustling filtered through the air. Soft wet sounds began, first gently, then rising both in the volume and in the tempo of their cadence.

"Mm. Oh man, you feel so good.... Oh...oh, man you...Chewie?" The noises stopped. There was a harsh scratching noise followed by a single sharp slurp.

"Chewie, is this frosting?" Han demanded. "Did you get frosting all over your fur?"

A doleful groan.

"Why can't you be a little more careful? It's probably all over me now." Rapid rubbing sounds took over. "Aw Chewie, it's everywhere; feel this. Now I'm all sticky. This is ridiculous. I'm going to have to get up and wash this off."

There was a terrific howl followed by violent tumbling from the bed. The wet noises resumed, but lower in tone and far more primal. Han moaned, "Oh, yes. Oh yes, Chewie, that's it. Use that big rough tongue on me! Gods, I love it when you do that. Oh geez, that feels so good.... Aw, come on man; don't lick me there. You know I can't...Oh, Chewie stop.... I can't hold...no...oh...OH OH!"

A satisfied burp echoed through the cabin. The breathing slowed. "Chewie?" A low moan. Han chuckled, "And, hey, just for the record, I don't think it's possible to lick someone clean."

Chewie bawled.

In a short while the soft rustling of sheets resumed. "Hey, baby, give me a minute. You just blew my mind there, you know."

A series of hoarse bellows ensued.

"Yeah, right. Everyone's a comedian. But if it had been just my mind, I'd probably be in better shape right now. Two minutes for the old guy, okay?"

A wookiee howled. Then there was more rustling.

"Chewie, what are you doing? Chewie, no not that! No!" Gale after gale of hysterical giggles filled the air. "Chewie..." Han choked between bouts, "Uncle...UNCLE! Anything you want, just stop! I give. I give!"

The jerky breaths gradually calmed themselves. Han said grumpily, "Now that's playing dirty. Using a guy's secret tickle spot against him. Hold on a minute. I'm getting it." There was a scrape of lid against jar, then some random banging from the nightstand.

"Hey, Chewie, where did you put the gloves?"

A deep wail.

"Aw shit, Chewie, I specifically asked you if you had everything and you said 'yes'. So you go get them."

Peals of wild laughter again rose up. "Okay, okay! I'll get them! Just stop already!" The sheets rustled again. "Of all the wookiees in all the galaxy," Han grumbled, "I have to end up with a smart ass."

There was a thump of feet against deck and then a loud scrape as something metallic slid across the room. Han shouted, "Dammit, I think I broke my toe!" There was some furious hopping, and then a low-level light broke from the bed.

Chewie held a glowing portalamp in his palm. He angled the beam around the room catching Han as he stood on one foot with the other cradled carefully in his hands. "A little late for that, don't you think?" asked Han rhetorically.

Chewie roared.

"Yeah, a big help you are," Han muttered. He gingerly put his foot back down on the deck.

Han stomped over to the hatchway panel and flooded the entire cabin in bright, white light. He blinked at the sudden change. Spying the offending bandolier, he bent over to pick it up.

As he bent to the deck, the crack of his ass parted just enough for Chewie to glimpse the sweet pink flesh in the middle. Chewie roared appreciatively and stroked himself up and down under his long, frontal fur.

"Thanks, baby," said Han with a backwards smile. "I've been toning up." His toe problem seemed entirely forgotten.

Han threw the bandolier into one bin and reached up to withdraw a pair of long stretchy gloves from another. He turned back around to watch Chewbacca work himself under the fur.

"Mm!" Han licked his lips in anticipation and padded back to the light switch. His still sticky genitals smacked against his groin with every step. He hit the panel and plunged the room back into absolute darkness.

There was a heavy thud as flesh hit bedding, then twin snaps of polylaflex against wrist. There was a brief bang against the nightstand, and then the sensuous glide of glove against glove.

"Okay, baby, flip over." Chewie grunted. There was a crinkle as the pillow slid down the bed. Soft sucking noises ensued as something slid in and out over the sphincter. Chewie moaned in pleasure.

The sucking became louder. Chewie wailed. Han's voice broke through, "Oh be quiet, you big baby! That's just four fingers, not even my knuckles yet."

Chewie roared furiously.

"Well if you would quit crying about every little thing, I wouldn't have to ruin the surprise. Now are you going to shut up and take it, or am I going to have to turn on the light?" A contrite bawl followed.

"Now that's better. Just relax."

Chewie shuddered and croaked hoarsely. On hands and knees, his body sagged limply. There was a soft ruffle as a pillow was clutched more tightly against his stomach. His ass rose a little farther up.

Four down, six to go. With a sigh, Han realized it was going to be a very long night. With his free hand he steadied himself against Chewie's backside and went back to work.

With a flick of his wrist he twisted his hand, dragging the knuckles across the circle of the sphincter. Chewie howled and pulled his knees in closer to his chest.

Working his fist in sinuous cadence he teased the sphincter wider with the knobs of his knuckles. With one forceful lunge from the elbow he forced in the thumb and continued the same relentless motion. Working now over the prostate he kneaded and massaged until Chewie's low moans became urgent cries of desperation.

Perversely, he stilled his movements. Pulling away from the swollen gland, he straightened his fingers. There was a barking sob and then the dull thud of hard fist hammering soft bedding.

Han took his other hand from where it rested on Chewie's back. He slathered it thick with grease and gently eased it alongside the first. Chewie bawled in abject pleasure.

Inside the tight canal Han grabbed his own wrist and balled the fingers of the first hand into a fist once again. Working his two hands as a unit he began to move cautiously. Chewie rocked his ass, urging him further in.

The jolt knocked his hands into perfect position. With a lick of his lips Han began to torque his two hands in syncopation. One hand rolled over the burgeoning prostate, the second tantalized the sphincter. Gradually he increased his speed.

Thick, fast pants filled the air. Chewie's hips began to undulate in that most elemental of harmonic motions. A phonated moan began to build in the darkness.

Han fell against Chewbacca and pressed his cheek hard against the slick fur. He murmured something unintelligible. Whatever it was was lost in the passion of Chewie's cries.

Han smiled broadly in the darkness. He slid one hand out and wrapped it tightly around Chewie's waist pulling Chewie firmly against his body. Jamming his own resurrected erection into the soft fur of Chewie's leg, he began to pump in earnest now. He moved his fist just a few inches at first. Chewie urged him on eagerly. His pelvis began to thrust reflexively. His arm pistoned itself faster and faster as if set on overdrive.

Working from the shoulder he drove himself into the depths of Chewbacca until it was simply too much to bear. Chewie came into the darkness. Han followed not far behind.

**********

In the cargo hold a thin blue light came on from a compact unit near the linen. Artoo bleeped twice and swiveled. The light fell on 3P0. Artoo extended a tool towards 3P0's back panel. 3P0 jerked on with a start. "Oh, my. Are we still in the cargo hold?"

Artoo whirred. 3P0 said, "Don't get smart with me. You're the one who got us into this mess. You simply don't understand humans at all."

A load roar reverberated even through the bulkhead. "Dear me, that sounded like Chewbacca. Do you think they are all right?" Artoo whizzed and blipped twice.

"What! Oh, you don't understand a thing, Artoo. Wookiees are one of the fiercest warrior races in the galaxy. The men are tough, ferocious, and supremely virile. Chewbacca would never ever--"

A thunderous howl caterwauled through the air. Only after long, painful seconds did it dissipate into a high plaintive whine and then into a happy coo. A little whimper rumbled across the distance. And then there was only silence.

"Oh my," said 3P0, finally stunned into silence.

Artoo rotated his top and clicked once. A bright cone of light shot out from his videospout to illuminate the deck in front of them.

"Oh, that is a good idea," 3P0 commented as a little more of the hold came into view with the glow of the light cone.

Then two holographic R2 droids appeared in center of the video cone. Both holodroids were freshly oiled, compact and in all-around prime condition. They circled each other, carefully sizing each other up.

"Is this a mechano video update?" inquired 3P0. "I do wish you would keep those to yourself. It isn't polite to discuss technical matters in front of others, you know."

In the holo-vid, one of the droids stopped and flipped forward on its arms. The other came up from behind and extended a probe. "What are they doing, Artoo?" 3P0 asked. "That isn't a recognized access panel."

Artoo whistled and bleeped. He rotated his top and opened a slat. A pincer emerged holding a small cylindrical unit. He whirred.

"WD40? I don't believe I know that series. Hello, WD," he said cheerfully. "I am C3P0: human cyborg relations. Pleased to make your acquaintance." 3P0 extended a hand. Artoo droned in disbelief.

"Not very talkative, is he?" observed 3P0. He rapped on the top of the little unit. Suddenly he found himself drenched from chest to thighs in a slick oily substance. The remnants of the ejaculate dripped off the stubby protrusion of the little canister. Artoo retracted the pincer arm and the cylinder clattered to the ground.

"Artoo! Look what you've done! It's all in my...well, it's in my...." He gestured to his wiry midsection. "Well, it's dripping all through me anyway. And just look. You have gone and sprayed all over Master Han's clean sheets as well. He'll be very annoyed indeed. You'll be deactivated for sure."

Artoo rocked violently. His top spun first in one direction, then the other. He chirped and beeped in rapid succession.

"What? Service me?" 3P0 exclaimed in dismay. "You are an Astromech, designed for industrial applications such as ships and spacestations. You simply aren't designed to meet the specifications of my sophisticated circuits."

Artoo gave a rude buzz and reached out with a long, thick implement. C3P0 jumped in place, held firmly to the ground by the thick restraining bolt. He shied away, struggling in vain against the hard, cold unyielding grip of the bolt.

"Oh! Artoo, don't touch me there! Oh! Oh! Oh.... Oh, Artoo...Artoo...Artoo!" A high frequency mechanical hum began from within the little droid and vibrated across the deck. 3P0's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Oh, Artoo! Oh, Artoo, call me 'Daddy'."

****

Back in the cabin the portalamp came back on. The couple were sprawled on the bed, hopelessly tangled in sheets and towels. Chewie rumbled contentedly. Han picked up a towel and began to wipe gob after gob of grease from Chewie's plastered backside. "Oh man, Chewie, you're a mess. How are we ever going to get this out of your fur?"

He tossed one towel aside and began again with a fresh one. "There must be a kilo of this stuff mixed in here. I hope we have enough left for the hyperdrive motivator or we're in big trouble." He reached for yet another towel.

Han surveyed the hopeless task before him. Then a thought occurred to him. "Chewie," he asked, "have you ever considered shaving?"

******

An hour later they were back in bed, bathed, fluffed and dried. Han snuggled into Chewie's fuzzy belly and turned off the portalamp. Chewie growled something sleepily.

"Mm. Yeah, baby. Me too." A stringent bawl broke the mood.

"I did say it," argued Han. A bark.

Han sighed, exasperated. "Saying 'me too' is the same thing as saying it." A much crankier bark.

"Oh look, Chewie, I don't want to fight. This feels too good. Just...go to sleep, okay?" Chewie roared.

"Yeah, baby, me too."

A while later, soft whistling sounds came from the bed. "Chewie, are you awake? Chewie?" More whistling.

Soft fur rustled gently against warm fingers. "You know, I do love you, baby," said Han under his breath.

A hoarse delighted whoop filled the air.

"Chewie, dammit, put me down, you big oaf! That's cheating!" Han said in outrage. "You were supposed to be asleep!" A soft thud was followed by some gentle whispering in the sheets.

Chewie growled happily.

"Yeah, baby, me too. Now get some sleep. And, hey, don't forget to stock some more hyperdrive cam grease before we leave tomorrow."

But from the other side of the bed there came only the slow, even whistling of a wookiee drifting off to sleep.