A Sweet Treat

Author's Note: Originally titled "Bring the Boy to the Yard" on LiveJournal. Anakin and Valin are both adults in this story, though Valin is just-barely 18.


One ill-timed strike against the Yuuzhan Vong stronghold, one too many squadrons of coralskippers. That was all it took for the twelve Stealth-X ships to be quickly whittled down to nine balls of flame and debris, and three damaged ships zooming out in separate directions to regroup at the end of the next safe hyperspace jump.

Valin's jump was short, and his cranky hyperdrive refused to get him any farther than the halfway point. He was too far away to send a message to Captain Jaina Solo about his predicament, and he realized that he would have to land on the green planet below and hope that he'd be able to find a new one, or at least the parts to build one. Or, at a bare minimum, passage back to Coruscant.

Jaina and Zekk would know he was still alive and would report back that he was fine. At least, that was what Valin hoped. And then he tried to put his parents and his little sister out of his mind, because he was in quite a predicament, and he needed to focus first on getting out of it.

"Unidentified ship, please uncloak and transmit your codes. You have 15 seconds to comply."

He exhaled loudly in relief, only then noticing that he'd been holding his breath. There was a spaceport, and apparently the primary language was Basic. The situation had already improved, though that wasn't saying much. He managed to land safely on a small platform, and he secured his ship while waving away the humanoid guards that insisted he pay a fee to dock. He didn't need to pay a fee, and the guards echoed his opinion on that matter in apparent agreement.

Valin didn't know where he was, and he kept his hand close to the lightsaber hidden just under his flight jacket. The galaxy wasn't a very safe place for eighteen-year-old Jedi Knights wandering around alone.

He walked towards the more populated area of the spaceport, which was just a couple of streets intersected by another, lined with small shops on all sides. He sensed the presence of the Force in the area, more than he would expect to find from little tufts of yellow grass growing in the cracks in the duracrete, and the few people he spotted walking from one shop to another. And most of the presence was inside one of the shops. He reached out to it, and it was too hazy to determine much about, except that it was probably benign, and vaguely familiar.

Valin decided to check it out before continuing on to what he guessed was a space travel parts store. In any case, he didn’t have any money, and maybe he would be able to find a way to get some that didn’t involve stealing or cheating the owner out of goods.

He pushed open the wooden doors and walked into the small restaurant. There were a few people inside, and one server, a human instead of a droid, walking around picking up dirty dishes. Only three of the twenty round, cloth-covered tables were in use, with a fourth one dirty and needing attention. Valin took a deep breath and tried to feel the Force presence of each of the people in the diner. None of them were noticeable, except… except the boy behind the counter, who was currently flipping a row of thin bantha steaks with rapid precision.

The boy, who couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen, didn’t turn around until all of the steaks had been turned. Then he lifted his head and looked straight at Valin.

“Uh, where’s the menu?” Valin asked.

The kid pointed up at the glowing menu prominently located on the wall. Valin nodded slowly and stood back to read it. He took a seat at one of the clean tables and waited for the server to take his order. He was very hungry and sore – and still not sure how he was going to pay.

“I’ll just have water,” he said, “and… and I guess a small steak with fried tuber strips.”

He continued to watch the boy, convinced that this was the source of the strange feeling he’d been getting, but he knew that he’d never seen him before, and something seemed out of place. There was something else in the Force current, something like a void. Like the way air currents betrayed the presence of a cloaked object.

His mouth went dry, and the glass of water only helped a little bit. His dinner stuck in his stomach like a rock. Someone was there, someone who was trying very hard not to be found. It couldn’t be Jacen; Jacen was on a journey to learn about the Force, and would have no reason to be hiding in a diner on a backwater planet many light-years from anywhere. A Dark Jedi? A Slayer? A Sith?

The fryer boy, now on break, sat down across from him, with his greasy apron off and thrown over his shoulder. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he asked.

“One of who?” Valin pretended not to know what he was talking about. There were still many people in the galaxy that blamed the Jedi for the Yuuzhan Vong invasion.

“One of the Jedi Knights. It’s all right; I’ve been in training for two years now. You’re safe here.”

Truth. Valin nodded and drained the rest of his glass. “I’m Jedi Knight Valin Horn,” he said. “Corran is my father.”

“I’m Zan,” the boy said. “I’ve been on Minley all my life, but my trainer is from the outworlds. He’ll be behind the ice cream counter in a few minutes, but he’s been in the back setting up for the evening shift.”

“Okay.” Valin tried not to keep looking at the back doors, and his heart jumped when the doors opened. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t a dark-haired young man in a white shirt and black trousers, with a white apron.

Then the heat in his veins washed away in a wave of cold. It couldn’t be. He was dead, had been dead for four years. But unless his eyes – or the man’s Force signals – were deceiving him, that was Anakin Solo.

Maybe-Anakin flipped a few switches on a large machine next to the door and poured a box of white powder into the top of it before he turned around, gaze locking onto Valin’s face. “I’ve got to go,” Valin said suddenly, and he tried to get up.

“You haven’t paid for your dinner,” Zan pointed out.

“I don’t need to pay for it.”

“I know that trick, Valin.”

Valin cursed and got up anyway, this time making his way to the checkered counter. “An… Anakin?” he asked.

“How did you find me?” Anakin’s voice was just the same as Valin remembered – well, almost. It was a little deeper, a little harsher, and up close Valin saw a few scars showing on Anakin’s neck just above the top of his collar.

“I just landed here when my hyperdrive went out,” Valin said. “Are you really Anakin? You were dead. We all felt you die, and your sister saw you.”

Anakin idly rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn’t the place to talk about it. You don’t look very well yourself, Valin. Are you hurt?”

“No… well, just a little. I got bounced around in the Stealth-X.”

Anakin said something to Zan and then motioned for Valin to follow him. “They’ll be all right without me for one shift,” he said. “My apartment is above the diner. I’ve been hiding here and training Zan for two years – since the end of the war. And I trust that you’re not going to tell anybody that you found me when you get back home.”

“Why wouldn’t I tell?” Valin said. He went with Anakin through the back cooler and to a set of small stairs leading up to the third floor. “Your parents are still grieving for you. So is Jaina, and so was Jacen the last time I saw him. And all of us, all of your friends…”

“It’s not that simple.” Anakin opened a door at the top of the hallway, which led into a two-room apartment suite, sparsely but adequately furnished, and dimly lit. “I sense something coming, a great threat, a great war. If I went back home, it would only make things worse. There will be a time when I’m needed, and that time isn’t now.”

“I don’t understand,” Valin snapped. “How do you know this? And is it worth making everybody suffer?”

“The suffering will be a lot worse if I don’t wait. I’ve seen things, Valin. When I was in the Embrace of Pain but my Force sense wasn’t yet completely cut off, I saw things. The Force was speaking to me, showing me what might be happening. There will be an enemy to face, one that only I can.” He gently pushed Valin down into his one chair and took Valin’s hand in his own. “Please, don’t tell anybody I’m here.”

“All right.”

Valin wasn’t sure if he was going to keep his word or not – it seemed needlessly cruel to let Jaina keep on believing that her brother was dead when he was apparently alive and mostly well on Minley – but at the same time, what if it was true, and disclosure would make a budding bad situation worse? He waited for Anakin to say something more, but he was silent, filling a small washbasin and bringing it over.

“Let me look at your side,” Anakin said. “You are injured.”

“I’m not hurt that bad. I just need to lay down for a little while and go into a healing trance.”

Despite his protests, Valin lay down on Anakin’s bed and took off his flight jacket. Anakin pushed up Valin’s thin gray shirt, and Valin couldn’t help but wince when fingers traced over his bruised ribs.

Soft energy poured over the bruises, seeping into them, and the pain started to ebb. Anakin cleaned where skin had been rubbed raw or lightly punctured, and Valin felt better and sleepier with every minute.

“I’m glad you didn’t come with us to Myrkr,” Anakin said, almost idly, an apparent non sequitur.

“Why? I wanted to. And Tahiri went, and she’s only a year older than me,” said Valin.

Anakin flinched a little at that name. “It was almost a suicide mission, and we went about it in the wrong way. We went in with only half of a plan, and no backup, and let ourselves get distracted. It was mostly my fault. And you would have probably died.”

Anakin took off his uniform and started to put on his nightclothes, a pair of plain shorts and a plain shirt. Valin saw crossing lines etched deep into Anakin’s back. “I know what you’re thinking, and yes, they did that to me. I was a captive for almost a year and a half. And I understand the Yuuzhan Vong better at the end of that than at the beginning, but I still can’t love one of them.” When he was finished dressing, he turned around and looked Valin straight in the eye. “And that is another reason I don’t want you telling anyone about me. I don’t know how, but the shaping will change Tahiri. And I don’t want to be part of that.”

“You already were,” Valin said quietly. “She’s… she’s different, now. She’s stronger. But she-”

“Isn’t the one I fell in love with. We’re dead to each other. Better to keep it that way. That kind of attachment is only going to lead to more heartache, at best.” Anakin looked to him sadly, then left the apartment, and he didn’t come back for several minutes. When he did return, he was holding a glass in each hand; one glass was filled with something off-white, and the other one, something a pale purple-pink. “I paid your tab, and brought you something to drink.”

Valin looked at the glass suspiciously, but it only smelled like dessert, something creamy and halfway frozen. He took some from a spoon, and then leaned back against the pillows. The bed wasn’t very large, but it was wide enough that they could both fit in it, and Anakin climbed in next to Valin with his own glass.

“We’ll have to share the bed, unless you’d rather one of us sleep on the floor,” Anakin told him. “I don’t mind.”

“This is fine,” Valin said. He settled in and pulled the blanket up over him; he could fix his broken hyperdrive in the morning.

He tried to go to sleep, but the room was cold now that the suns had gone down and there was little heat coming from the small radiator on the other side of the front room. He found himself inching closer and closer to Anakin’s spot, finding some relief from their proximity, but not enough. Finally Anakin slid his arm around Valin’s shoulders and pulled the two of them together, now lying side by side.

Anakin brushed Valin’s hair off his forehead and with only a small hesitation leaned his head over and placed a kiss between his eyes. Valin smelled fruit and sugar and a hint of spice, and lifted his face to meet it; his lips touched Anakin’s chin, picking up a trace of sticky sweetness from just below Anakin’s lip. “Should be neater,” Valin murmured, trying to distract them both from the fact that he and Anakin had narrowly missed a liplock.

“You wanted the berry glass? You can have the rest of it,” Anakin said.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Valin let his voice trail off, as his mind was split between Anakin and himself, the subtle heat spreading through his belly that wasn’t so subtle now. His pants were too tight, the center seam too rough. Chafing. But at least it kept his growing erection from becoming too obvious. Here was Anakin, thought to be dead for four years, known to him as alive for not even that many hours, and Valin, at an age where he should have been getting a better handle on random pop-ups in his pants, was finding himself getting aroused just by Anakin’s warmth and scent.

“Val, it’s all right.” Anakin sat partway up and pushed off the blanket. “I’m just worried about you… I don’t want you to have any regrets in the morning.”

“Regrets? For what?”

Anakin leaned towards Valin and tilted his head to the side, but made no further move. He’s waiting for me, thought Valin, and the younger man took a few breaths before quickly touching his mouth to Anakin’s. A brief press, just enough to feel it, just enough to want it again and shift on the mattress, wanting some kind of relief from the discomfort in his groin that blossomed into pain.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Anakn said quietly.

“I was afraid you’d be the one mad at me.” Valin felt his cheeks start to heat up to match the rest of him.

And then he was back down on the bed, his right side pushed into the thin mattress and Anakin half next to him, half on top of him. Anakin slipped his tongue into Valin’s mouth, and Valin sucked on it slowly as he reached up and held on, arms around Anakin’s back. Chest to chest, hip to hip, not enough contact.

After a few minutes, Anakin climbed off, leaving Valin gasping and frustrated. But then Anakin pulled at Valin’s shirt, which was promptly removed and tossed to the side of the bed, and unbuckled his pants before sliding them off over his socked feet. Valin sighed as the pressure in his shorts released, even though the slit in his shorts was now a gaping hole, clearly visible if Anakin chose to look down that direction.

Something cold dripped onto his chest. Valin jumped a little, and then watched as Anakin, now missing his own shirt, let spoonfuls of melting shake drop and spread over Valin’s skin. “You going to clean that up?” Valin asked, and when he spoke his voice was unintentionally breathy, as though he had just run up several flights of stairs without using the Force to speed his way.

“Of course,” Anakin whispered. He put the spoon back on the small nightstand and then leaned over Valin.

Valin moaned as Anakin licked up the milky-syrup trails spreading across his chest. Long, wet strokes, stopping at each of Valin’s nipples to suck softly before slipping farther down. The cool air on his wet skin was almost welcome, countering heat, too much, all at once. Valin bucked up; he needed something more. Needed to touch Anakin, press more tightly against him.

“Patience.” Anakin finished cleaning the mess he’d made and then pulled Valin’s shorts off. The moment of embarrassed exposure gave way to near desperation when Anakin took Valin’s cock into his hand and stroked it firmly, up and down. Thumb grazing across the darkened head, lighting nerves on fire.

Patience was the furthest thing from Valin’s mind. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted but it involved moving faster and harder. Tasting the salty sheen on Anakin’s shoulders that scattered the hazy orange light. He let his thighs fall in opposite directions, leaving him wide open, and he wrapped his legs around Anakin, to draw him closer.

Anakin worked a small tube with his free hand, then dropped the tube and drew a line on Valin’s leg, from just under the crease between thigh and crotch through the crease, ending under his warm sac. He left a trail of something clear and cool that started to warm and tingle slightly. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Anakin whispered.

“Don’t you dare,” Valin squeaked. He thought he might have seen a mischievous look in Anakin’s blue eyes, but then he was distracted by the sparks bursting in front of his own. Fingers wrapped around him and pumping; another finger slipping lower, to a tight opening. He couldn’t help but resist a little as Anakin pushed into it, but he dimly heard the word “relax” whispered only centimeters from his ear, and he willed his muscles to go slack.

At first he felt strange, a motion of an object going the wrong direction inside him, but he had barely opened his mouth to speak when something happened. Anakin had almost effortlessly found it, the spot that Valin had only heard about in hushed rumors in the halls of the Jedi Academy. His vise grip on Anakin shook and his legs almost faltered. There was no Force rapture in his experience like it; each pulse of Valin’s heart was timed with Anakin’s strokes, the fingertip rubbing against nerve endings he barely knew he even had.

“Don’t go off too fast.” Anakin’s words seemed to come from somewhere far away. Valin just wanted more of him, a silent wish come true when a second finger joined the first. They separated, stretching him out in a sweet sort of pain.

Then Anakin pulled out and let go of him, just long enough to lift Valin’s legs under his knees and push them up. He positioned himself between them and was still. “Are you ready?” he asked, this time his voice coming out just as raspy as Valin’s had been.

Valin nodded, and then he felt more stretching, burning; Anakin pushed slowly into him, filling him up until he thought he could take no more, but wanted to try. This time the stimulation deep inside him was more diffuse, but more complete. Someone’s ragged breaths sounded in his ears; his own, as he felt like he was two places at once. He grabbed Anakin’s strong shoulders to reconnect and spread feeling through the rest of his body. His hands almost slipped off, but he clung tightly.

Anakin pulled out and thrust forward again, this time faster, and propped himself up with one hand. The other one slid smoothly over Valin’s stomach, his hip, through the damp, dark curls between his legs. “Want you,” Valin breathed. “Want you so much-”

His next words were swallowed up in a kiss. Anakin silenced him, mouth to mouth. They rocked back and forth together. Building friction, almost too much. Valin was gasping with each slight break in their kiss, Anakin’s breath hot on his cheek, over his lips. Salty sweat mingled and ran down in trickles, over Valin’s forehead, over his chest, down his legs.

He couldn’t hold out. He gripped Anakin as tightly as he could, but it wasn’t enough to bring him back into control of himself, and he felt muscle spasms ripple through him. Legs locked. Balls tightened. Spurting all over Anakin’s hand and belly and slicking back down onto his own.

When Anakin withdrew his cock, Valin gave one last moan, and the last few drops flowed out onto Anakin’s fingers. Anakin gave him a satiated, tired smile, and crawled next to him. “Wish you could stay with me, Val,” he whispered. "I've been alone for four years."

“Maybe I can,” Valin said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew that he couldn’t, and now he had another secret to keep. He shook his head to push it away, and snuggled into the covers and into Anakin. He didn’t have to glance over to know that the look in Anakin’s eyes would tell him no.

In the morning Valin woke alone, but found a box on the nightstand. Inside the box, there was a brand-new hyperdrive that would fit a Stealth-X and needed only a few small software modifications to get him back home. There was a note attached to it:

V.,
See you on Coruscant, someday.
Love, A.

He lingered in the doorway with the box in his hands, and looked back to the dim room behind him. Then he exited into the hall, closed the door behind him, and began his solitary journey back to the spaceport. Never to tell, and never to forget.