A Long Flight

TITLE: A Long Flight
AUTHOR: Eleventh Guard (coruscant_exile on LiveJournal)
PAIRING: Jacen/Anakin; other pairings mentioned or simulated
NOTE: This was actually written as part of a WIP Supernatural/Star Wars crossover, but stands alone as a one-shot.

Anakin Solo laid the last of their timed detonators on the thick stone slab and pushed the red button on the side of the metal sphere. The timer display on the side showed "2:00", then "1:59", and continued to count down. “Run!” he shouted.

Jacen didn’t have to be told twice. His feet were already pounding across the cavern floor when Anakin’s thumb depressed the button. Blowing up the bridge wouldn’t keep the bounty hunter from chasing them, unless the explosion collapsed part of the cavern and she was killed by falling debris, but it would at least slow her down while she looked for another bridge.

We never should have come here, he thought. Now that the Yuuzhan Vong had put a price on the lives of the Jedi, hunting Jedi got a lot easier. It seemed that every bounty hunter in the galaxy was looking for the Jedi - Masters, Knights, and trainees alike - and their uncle, Luke Skywalker, had suggested that the Solo brothers go out to Kyrodon and search for a lost Jedi Holocron rumored to be in one of the planet’s many caves.

It was a thinly veiled attempt at getting the boys somewhere that the Yuuzhan Vong would think was too remote to bother with. And while that may have been true, there were plenty of bounty hunters who were desperate enough to follow them anywhere.

Anakin caught up to Jacen just as the charges exploded and the walls of the cavern corridor shook around them. They ran as fast as they could into the next open space, then followed their original path, only backwards. After a half-hour of running and climbing, they reached the crater where they had landed their X-wings.

Green blaster bolts sizzled past them and splashed in a crackle of light against Anakin’s ship. Jacen danced around the X-wing and sprinted towards his own, ten meters away.

“Won’t open!” Anakin shouted. He ducked as a second spray of blaster fire slammed into the vehicle. “The canopy’s stuck!”

Kriffing hells! thought Jacen. Ingvor’s reflexes were too slow for her to hit a Jedi with her blaster rifle, but her shots were precise enough to center directly on the safety lock and freeze Anakin's canopy closed for fifteen-second stretches. They didn’t have fifteen seconds before she caught up and got close enough to lob a thermal detonator at them, which at worst would kill them, and at best would simply destroy their only passage off Kyrodon.

Jacen grabbed Anakin’s arm and pulled him in the direction of his own ship. It would be a very tight fit, but the cockpit could hold them both. He climbed into the pilot’s chair and strapped himself in as Anakin climbed in with him, and the clear canopy closed over them both.

“Slide down a little,” Jacen said. “I need to be able to see over your head.”

“Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take us to get back to Coruscant?” Anakin asked, as he placed his feet on the floor and hunched down between Jacen’s knees. “It’s about forty hours!” He braced himself as well as he could, hands on the edge of the seat behind him and feet touching the edge where the floor joined the vertical wall under Jacen’s control screen, as Jacen started the antigrav engines and lifted off out of the crater. Most of the rest of the bounty hunter’s shots, aiming for Jacen’s ship, missed entirely, and the few that hit bounced harmlessly off the hull.

“I know. I was with you on the trip here, remember?”

“We hardly fit in here!”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now, Anakin. Just focus on keeping your muscles relaxed so they don’t lock up halfway through the flight.”

Anakin snorted, and was already using his Jedi techniques for calming the burning fibers in his legs and arms by the time they shot away into hyperspace, thirty minutes later. When the stars outside turned into starlines and then to a swirling nebula, though, Jacen pulled him back up onto the seat and said, “Sit back and settle in for the flight.”

“I’m a bit big to be sitting on your lap,” Anakin said.

“If you’d rather fold yourself up and crouch on the floor, go right ahead.”

“No, thanks.” Anakin set himself down on Jacen’s thighs and rested his back against Jacen’s chest. Jacen’s seat belt clips dug into his skin, through his own orange flight suit, and the buckle that held Jacen’s lap bindings closed pressed uncomfortably against his tailbone. At least, that’s what Anakin thought, until he shifted a little bit to the right and found the lap buckle near his right hip.

Great. Just great. They would be stuck in the cockpit for forty – well, now just a little bit over thirty-nine hours – and Jacen had a kriffing hard-on. Anakin pushed forwards on the chair, sliding over Jacen’s legs, to put a little bit of distance between Jacen’s crotch and himself.

“Do you mind not swinging around all over the place?” Jacen asked.

“Just trying to get comfortable.”

“There’s two of us and one chair. We’re not exactly going to get comfortable. And we don’t know who’s going to be waiting in the hangar for us, so you don’t need to have stiff legs and not be able to run when we land.”

Anakin made a hmph noise but leaned back. The recycled air in the tiny interior space of the ship was cold and smelled a little bit like cleaning chemicals, and he shivered, but Jacen was warm and Anakin found himself pressing as much as he could against him, while trying to avoid...

The bump was gone. Jedi breathing exercises, Anakin thought, and relaxed. It wasn’t as though he held any illusions that Jacen was somehow asexual (although the way he’d been treating the well-built Tenel Ka as merely a friend, and the way he seemed to be oblivious to the advances of twenty-three-year-old Danni Quee, did at least make one wonder). He just didn’t exactly want to know when Jacen’s cock was hard and twitching, especially if it happened to be at the time when Anakin was stuck with him in a space smaller than their closets at the Solos' apartment. Jacen, apparently, had taken care of the problem with some advanced Jedi techniques that Anakin hadn’t quite mastered yet, and Anakin then didn’t mind sitting on his lap and accepting the warmth and relative softness of his living chair. Okay, so Jacen was anything but soft. Any remaining traces of baby fat were gone, replaced by well-defined muscles, but even Jacen’s strong legs and firm chest had more give than molded durasteel.

After a few hours, Anakin sank into a light sleep. He hadn’t really slept in over thirty-six hours, not since his short nap on the flight to Kyrodon, and he was tired enough to close his eyes for a few minutes and find those minutes stretch into hours. He didn’t feel as though he was in a deep sleep, though – just kind of dozing, out-of-it. His lumpy chair snored, and he shifted against it, trying to find a position that was comfortable. Something rubbed against his stomach. A pair of fluttering hands...

In his hazy dream, he was back in his room, sitting upright in his desk chair, and his poster of holostar Shia Lisset had come to life. He couldn’t quite see her, but he saw the electric blue of her strapless gown shimmer and undulate before him, and he felt fingers trace curving lines over his belly and chest. Mmm, he thought, even though he knew he was dreaming. What his girlfriend Tahiri didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her – after all, given the choice, Anakin would rather be kissing Tahiri than stretch out and be caressed by Shia, but since he didn’t have the choice, and it wasn’t real, he might as well lean back and enjoy the ride. Jedi Knight or not, son of Leia Organa-Solo and Han Solo or not, it wasn’t like a seventeen-year-old boy really had a chance with a holostar any other way.

Her hand slid between a pair of snaps at his waistline. Anakin hissed and rocked his hips, and he touched her forearms. So strong. He felt one of the snaps pop open, and now she was rubbing against his undershorts. His cock stood at attention, and he had the brief thought that he really shouldn’t be letting her do this, even in a dream; he should pull away from her and, if needed, take care of himself on his own, but... ahh... it felt so good when her thumb stroked the base, through thin fabric, and two fingers curled around underneath to bunch his shorts and fondle his balls.

Anakin rolled his hips, grinding back against the chair, and he felt something underneath him poke gently between his buttocks. Shifting around didn’t get rid of it, but he found that he didn’t really mind – not while his foggy brain was full of images of a scantily clad woman standing so close to him with her hands down his pants. He started to breathe faster, and spread his legs several centimeters to give her more room to work, and slid backwards onto the protrusion. It jerked and settled between his toned asscheeks, separating them, and he gasped when it rubbed against his hole. The smooth material of his undershorts contrasted with the rougher fibers on the other side and his breath was forced out of him in a drawn-out moan.

When she wrapped her fist around his cock and pumped up and down from the base to the overstimulated head pressing against his clothes, though, he was gone. Two minutes and a cry escaped from his throat and he was coming, a sticky mess in his flight suit.

“Mm, Jag, baby,” a voice murmured behind him. A male voice. The sleep-haze lifted and Anakin jerked upright.

Where am I? Anakin was certain that he was not lounging in his room on Coruscant. No, he was in an X-wing, sitting in the cockpit on something large... Jacen?!

“C’mere, Jag,” Jacen whispered, his voice thick with arousal. One hand tightened on Anakin’s hip, and the other snaked under the waistband of Anakin’s underclothes, fingers sliding through curly, sweat-dampened hairs. “Want you so much. Mmm... unghh...”

“Get your hands off me!” Anakin snarled, and he slammed forward, right into the control panel, shoulder banging painfully on one of the steering sticks. He balanced himself as well as he could and fastened the open snap under his belly button.

Jacen blinked his eyes open and looked around, dazed and sleepy. “What... where’s..." He pressed back into the flight chair and gasped. "Emperor’s black bones!”

“What the kriff were you doing?” Anakin shouted.

“I... oh, Anakin, I'm sorry - I thought you were Jagged Fel! I was dreaming!”

In ordinary circumstances, Anakin would have been shocked that Jacen admitted to being attracted to a man, and not just any man, but the one their sister Jaina was seeing. In ordinary circumstances, the thought of Jacen imagining giving Jag a hand job would have had him backing away, and possibly running off to tell Jaina. But Anakin couldn’t put more than a half-meter between himself and Jacen, and Jag coming at Jacen’s touch was nothing compared to the fact that Anakin had just done that very thing.

“So was I,” Anakin said. “I thought your hands belonged to somebody else. A woman. Who isn’t related to me.”

“I didn’t know. I would never have... Anakin, what’s wrong?”

Anakin snapped his eyes upwards, to Jacen’s face, partially shielded by a helmet. It was an uncomfortable place to look, but better than Jacen’s crotch – which was covered by an orange spot, darkened by his own wet release. “Everything. Don’t touch me,” Anakin growled. His mind spun in circles that no starfighter’s corkscrew dive could hope to rival. He and Jacen had just...

Anakin grabbed the hose just in time to press it against his mouth. The remnants of his last ration bar surged into it and he coughed and gasped. He could smell them both, sweat and Kyrodon’s dust and raw sexual desire - some of it spent and stale, some of it fresh. He accidentally brushed against Jacen’s trembling, muscled leg and felt himself tighten in his pants again.

He heaved a second time and clung to the control panel. His body screamed for him to sit back down and let Jacen stroke him to satisfaction and deep sleep; his mind screamed for him to stay right where he was and not touch Jacen no matter what. It was going to be a long flight.