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valarltdThis was for the Slash Writers' workshop.
The challenge is "Write the ultimate badfic, using the line 'Prepare to be boarded!'"
Het, slash, mary sue, MPreg, and endless badness
Chapter 27: the End of the Beginning
Lavira Starkeeper buffed her perfect nails on her flight suit and waited in the cavernous hangar as the myriad species that comprised the former Rebel Alliance, now the New Republic, swirled past her immaculate Nubian staryacht, its gleaming hull attracting their notice against the battered metal hides of the ancient and motley erstwhile Rebel fleet. She came bearing news, tidings of ultimate import to the fate of the Last Jedi.
When the scarred and charmless YT-1300 stock light freighter, the Millennium Falcon, docked, Lavira dashed over to it, shifting impatiently from foot to foot until the ramp lowered. She dipped her auburn head with grace bestowed by years of dance training and went into the ship.
Luke Skywalker, former moisture farmer, the Hero of Yavin and the last pupil of the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi, was shutting down the naviboard in the cockpit.
“Captain Solo,” Lavira greeted the handsome Corellian before snarling a perfect greeting in Flawless High Kashyyk to Chewbacca. “Luke, it’s really important. The princess needs you and Han for a conference just as soon as you land.”
“Not even a kiss for your hero?” Luke put on an air of affront. Lavira laughed and kissed him with an expert enthusiasm that belied her sixteen years. “We’ll be right there, sweetie. I just need to finished postflight.”
*You go. I will do it.* Chewbacca growled from the cockpit.
Lavira led the men to a conference room for the briefing.
“Hello, my loves! Isn’t it all terribly exciting?” The lavender-skinned female in gaudy corrective lenses, head pseudopods twisted and coiled into an outrageous cascade of curls, gushed at the holocam. “Your dear old X'gnl is so lucky to be here today as Skyler lines launches the first, post Empire luxury cruise!” Her voice raised almost to a squeal as she shuddered pleasurably.
“And everyone who is anyone is spacing aboard her today!” She gestured back to the gangway. “Behind me, you can see the lovely Chancellor Organa just going aboard. Isn’t she beautiful, darlings? You’s never know that fabulous lady in the silken daytravel suit (such perfect taste!) singlehandedly brought the Empire to its knees.
“Today, she’s on the arm of the one and only Jedi, Luke Skywalker. Zoom in, loves, and give the ladies back home a treat!” she instructed the camera crew. “We’ll catch up with the happy couple later. Rumor has it that this is a secret honeymoon getaway!” X’gnl paused to catch her breath and press her hand to her bosom with a delighted little gasp.
“And now you can see longtime ‘friends’ the generals Solo and Calrissian. Aren’t they a pair of handsome scoundrels-made-good, my dears? Rumor has it, this is a double honeymoon. After all, we all know about Corellians.” She winked conspiratorially at the camera.
The Luxury Liner, Nebula Queen, continued loading. Half the staff was Alliance personnel in various inconspicuous jobs. Luke had wanted to work as ship’s security with Wedge, but Leia argued he was too well-known, and demanded he serve as her escort. He took comfort in the fact that Lavira was belowdecks probably laying out her dress for that night’s dance instruction class. He would have to talk Leia into taking it with him.
“One bed, Leia?” he inquired as they entered their stateroom.
“Rumor has it that we’re newlyweds, Luke. A rumor deliberately started by Intell. Besides, I trust you can sleep with your own sister?” She mouthed the last three words in deference to the ever-present surveillance gear.
Vader’s Son nodded, “Certainly, my dear.” He would play whatever role his beloved big sister needed of him: rescuer, hero, Jedi or husband with the same aplomb and gusto as he brought to all aspects of life.
The trip was delightful. Food like Luke had never seen, although between Leia, Han and Lando he was kept well-informed of what was edible for humans. He and Leia took long walks on the promenade, watching the flux of hyperspace through the great transparasteel walls. Lando made a killing the first two days in the casino, only to find he was barred the rest of the time. Han lost steadily at sabbac, his mood growing more and more sour with each day.
The Last Jedi took dancing class from Lavira, the only time he got to see her. She was such a wonderful teacher that her private lessons had filled up before Luke could get his name on the list. Han had opted to join the class after the third straight day of losing in the casino. He was broke, and had to fill the time somehow. Lando had already polished that particular social grace, and Leia had danced since she could walk.
They reverted to normal space once a day for an hour so the passengers could see stars and the crew could get their bearings. Luke and Leia always walked the promenade during the time in normal space.
The pirate attack came two days out of the interstellar gambling palace called The Wheel.
“Drop shields and prepare to be boarded!” The order screeched over the comm system of the luxury liner like a sick mynock. The passengers milled aimlessly, as the crew panicked.
“Dammit Luke, I knew this was a bad idea.” Han’s complaint was delivered at high speed as he followed his friend. The Last Jedi strode through the crowds on the promenade, ignoring the passengers, Han, Leia’s shouts to be careful and the transition to normal space with equal aplomb.
Vader’s Son stationed himself at the airlock, looking as black and grim as his father. The Corellian took up a position where he had a clear line of fire, directly at the main airlock where the boarders would arrive, but without civilians in the way. This was what the Republic security forces had been waiting for.
He checked over his blaster: full power, barrel good, slipped trigger guard out of the way, safety off. It was a fine weapon. He looked at Luke holding his saber. Another fine weapon. The kid had built it himself, and Han never tired of watching him use it.
Then there was no time for thought. The pirates swarmed aboard, taking blaster bolts in the chest, losing limbs and heads to the saber beside the door. At last the Captain climbed over the charred, chopped corpses of crew.
Luke decapitated him without a second thought. The Republic forces came charging up.
“Luke!” Wedge gasped. “You gotta get to the engineering department. It’s an emergency!”
Faster than human eyes could follow, the Jedi was gone. “C’mon Solo. You better be there too.”
Luke found more carnage in the engine room. A second wave of attacker had come in the service airlock and attempted to sabotage the hyperdrive. Lavira had held them off, single handedly until the security forces arrived. She’d stabbed the first with her nail-file, taken his blaster and fired until they had overwhelmed her with sheer numbers. By some inexplicable miracle, she hadn’t taken any direct hits, but the burn damage to her lovely arms and legs left her dying.
“Luke?” She opened her eyes. “You came.”
“As fast as the Force could bring me.”
“Darling, I have to tell you. I’m your cousin. Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi master, fathered me on Shmi Skywalker. And I’m pregnant.” She used the last of her secret Force power to take the embryos from her dying body. As gently as she could she inserted the sac into Luke’s body, osmosising it through his skin, attaching it to his liver, and soothing the infant distress. “It’s OK sweeties. I’m just giving you to your daddy. Take care of them.”
The lovely gold flecked green eyes closed forever.
Han was beside him, laying gentle hands on his shoulders as he cradled the lovely corpse and wept. “She saved us all, kid. She’ll get a hero’s funeral for that.”
Refusing to relinquish her, Luke carried her back to her cabin, and laid her out on the bed. Through the rest of the trip, he kept vigil on her as she lay under the stasis field. He ate only because of the growing life within him. Han came and sat with him from time to time. There was no more pretense of a honeymoon now, just grief. Leia stayed sometimes.
Once Lavira had been given to the proper authorities for funeral preparations, Han took Luke home. The Jedi’s apartment was cold and empty. Luke sat turning a picture of him and Lavira over in his hands while Han made dinner. Luke ate mechanically, not tasting, not caring.
Han cleaned up and prepared to go.
“Wait.” Luke looked up as Han jumped. It was the first thing Skywalker had said since the battle. “Stay.”
“Sure. I’ll grab a blanket and sack out on the couch.”
“Thanks.” Luke went to bed, and Han kicked off his boots, stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“To hell with this,” he muttered, hearing soft sobs coming from Luke’s room. He got up and went in. Gathering the crying Jedi in his arms, the Corellian said all the useless, loving things that never help.
Luke cried himself out and slept in Han’s arms. He woke from nightmares, cradled in strong arms, a warm chest snoring softly under his ear.
Han had been so good to him. He was so lonesome. More hot tears welled up and splashed in the dark hair of Han’s chest. The warm wetness woke Han, and his arms tightened around Luke.
Before he realized what was happening, Luke’s mouth was moving on his chest, nuzzling into the hair, licking at his nipples. Then Luke moved up for a kiss.
Han let him. Seeking sex after a death was quite common behavior, and Han had done his share of comfort fucks. This would be no different.
But Luke’s mouth was so good, so wet and hot and silky under his, that Han couldn’t resist anymore. He seized Luke and kissed back, hard and invasive. Oh stars that taste! He devoured the smaller man’s mouth, desperate for more.
Luke didn’t mind, he was equally desperate for touch, for an affirmation that he was alive. Han was solid abnd alive beneath him and he wrenched his mouth away to place hard kisses over the pulse point of Han’s throat, marking him, feeling the life.
“More,” Han groaned, bucking against him.
Luke rubbed back, whispering filthy ideas in several different languages. Han felt the hard ridge of Luke against his own and brought one big hand down to open their pants and rub their sexes together.
Pearls of life-force dripped across Han’s stomach as Luke kept up the stream of dirty talk in his ear. At the end of his endurance he shot and used the fluids to finish Luke.
Together they lay, sated, drowsing. Luke kissed Han’s shoulder gently.
“Han? Will you marry me?” he whispered hopefully.
“Whoa, wait, why?” Han gaped, shocked and the suddenness
“Because I’m pregnant.” Luke explained what Lavira had done to him.
“Of course I will, Luke. I love you, you know,” Han acquiesced.
“I love you too,” Luke sighed and settled into sleep. The rest of their lives was just waiting for a happily ever after.
The challenge is "Write the ultimate badfic, using the line 'Prepare to be boarded!'"
Het, slash, mary sue, MPreg, and endless badness
Chapter 27: the End of the Beginning
Lavira Starkeeper buffed her perfect nails on her flight suit and waited in the cavernous hangar as the myriad species that comprised the former Rebel Alliance, now the New Republic, swirled past her immaculate Nubian staryacht, its gleaming hull attracting their notice against the battered metal hides of the ancient and motley erstwhile Rebel fleet. She came bearing news, tidings of ultimate import to the fate of the Last Jedi.
When the scarred and charmless YT-1300 stock light freighter, the Millennium Falcon, docked, Lavira dashed over to it, shifting impatiently from foot to foot until the ramp lowered. She dipped her auburn head with grace bestowed by years of dance training and went into the ship.
Luke Skywalker, former moisture farmer, the Hero of Yavin and the last pupil of the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi, was shutting down the naviboard in the cockpit.
“Captain Solo,” Lavira greeted the handsome Corellian before snarling a perfect greeting in Flawless High Kashyyk to Chewbacca. “Luke, it’s really important. The princess needs you and Han for a conference just as soon as you land.”
“Not even a kiss for your hero?” Luke put on an air of affront. Lavira laughed and kissed him with an expert enthusiasm that belied her sixteen years. “We’ll be right there, sweetie. I just need to finished postflight.”
*You go. I will do it.* Chewbacca growled from the cockpit.
Lavira led the men to a conference room for the briefing.
“Hello, my loves! Isn’t it all terribly exciting?” The lavender-skinned female in gaudy corrective lenses, head pseudopods twisted and coiled into an outrageous cascade of curls, gushed at the holocam. “Your dear old X'gnl is so lucky to be here today as Skyler lines launches the first, post Empire luxury cruise!” Her voice raised almost to a squeal as she shuddered pleasurably.
“And everyone who is anyone is spacing aboard her today!” She gestured back to the gangway. “Behind me, you can see the lovely Chancellor Organa just going aboard. Isn’t she beautiful, darlings? You’s never know that fabulous lady in the silken daytravel suit (such perfect taste!) singlehandedly brought the Empire to its knees.
“Today, she’s on the arm of the one and only Jedi, Luke Skywalker. Zoom in, loves, and give the ladies back home a treat!” she instructed the camera crew. “We’ll catch up with the happy couple later. Rumor has it that this is a secret honeymoon getaway!” X’gnl paused to catch her breath and press her hand to her bosom with a delighted little gasp.
“And now you can see longtime ‘friends’ the generals Solo and Calrissian. Aren’t they a pair of handsome scoundrels-made-good, my dears? Rumor has it, this is a double honeymoon. After all, we all know about Corellians.” She winked conspiratorially at the camera.
The Luxury Liner, Nebula Queen, continued loading. Half the staff was Alliance personnel in various inconspicuous jobs. Luke had wanted to work as ship’s security with Wedge, but Leia argued he was too well-known, and demanded he serve as her escort. He took comfort in the fact that Lavira was belowdecks probably laying out her dress for that night’s dance instruction class. He would have to talk Leia into taking it with him.
“One bed, Leia?” he inquired as they entered their stateroom.
“Rumor has it that we’re newlyweds, Luke. A rumor deliberately started by Intell. Besides, I trust you can sleep with your own sister?” She mouthed the last three words in deference to the ever-present surveillance gear.
Vader’s Son nodded, “Certainly, my dear.” He would play whatever role his beloved big sister needed of him: rescuer, hero, Jedi or husband with the same aplomb and gusto as he brought to all aspects of life.
The trip was delightful. Food like Luke had never seen, although between Leia, Han and Lando he was kept well-informed of what was edible for humans. He and Leia took long walks on the promenade, watching the flux of hyperspace through the great transparasteel walls. Lando made a killing the first two days in the casino, only to find he was barred the rest of the time. Han lost steadily at sabbac, his mood growing more and more sour with each day.
The Last Jedi took dancing class from Lavira, the only time he got to see her. She was such a wonderful teacher that her private lessons had filled up before Luke could get his name on the list. Han had opted to join the class after the third straight day of losing in the casino. He was broke, and had to fill the time somehow. Lando had already polished that particular social grace, and Leia had danced since she could walk.
They reverted to normal space once a day for an hour so the passengers could see stars and the crew could get their bearings. Luke and Leia always walked the promenade during the time in normal space.
The pirate attack came two days out of the interstellar gambling palace called The Wheel.
“Drop shields and prepare to be boarded!” The order screeched over the comm system of the luxury liner like a sick mynock. The passengers milled aimlessly, as the crew panicked.
“Dammit Luke, I knew this was a bad idea.” Han’s complaint was delivered at high speed as he followed his friend. The Last Jedi strode through the crowds on the promenade, ignoring the passengers, Han, Leia’s shouts to be careful and the transition to normal space with equal aplomb.
Vader’s Son stationed himself at the airlock, looking as black and grim as his father. The Corellian took up a position where he had a clear line of fire, directly at the main airlock where the boarders would arrive, but without civilians in the way. This was what the Republic security forces had been waiting for.
He checked over his blaster: full power, barrel good, slipped trigger guard out of the way, safety off. It was a fine weapon. He looked at Luke holding his saber. Another fine weapon. The kid had built it himself, and Han never tired of watching him use it.
Then there was no time for thought. The pirates swarmed aboard, taking blaster bolts in the chest, losing limbs and heads to the saber beside the door. At last the Captain climbed over the charred, chopped corpses of crew.
Luke decapitated him without a second thought. The Republic forces came charging up.
“Luke!” Wedge gasped. “You gotta get to the engineering department. It’s an emergency!”
Faster than human eyes could follow, the Jedi was gone. “C’mon Solo. You better be there too.”
Luke found more carnage in the engine room. A second wave of attacker had come in the service airlock and attempted to sabotage the hyperdrive. Lavira had held them off, single handedly until the security forces arrived. She’d stabbed the first with her nail-file, taken his blaster and fired until they had overwhelmed her with sheer numbers. By some inexplicable miracle, she hadn’t taken any direct hits, but the burn damage to her lovely arms and legs left her dying.
“Luke?” She opened her eyes. “You came.”
“As fast as the Force could bring me.”
“Darling, I have to tell you. I’m your cousin. Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi master, fathered me on Shmi Skywalker. And I’m pregnant.” She used the last of her secret Force power to take the embryos from her dying body. As gently as she could she inserted the sac into Luke’s body, osmosising it through his skin, attaching it to his liver, and soothing the infant distress. “It’s OK sweeties. I’m just giving you to your daddy. Take care of them.”
The lovely gold flecked green eyes closed forever.
Han was beside him, laying gentle hands on his shoulders as he cradled the lovely corpse and wept. “She saved us all, kid. She’ll get a hero’s funeral for that.”
Refusing to relinquish her, Luke carried her back to her cabin, and laid her out on the bed. Through the rest of the trip, he kept vigil on her as she lay under the stasis field. He ate only because of the growing life within him. Han came and sat with him from time to time. There was no more pretense of a honeymoon now, just grief. Leia stayed sometimes.
Once Lavira had been given to the proper authorities for funeral preparations, Han took Luke home. The Jedi’s apartment was cold and empty. Luke sat turning a picture of him and Lavira over in his hands while Han made dinner. Luke ate mechanically, not tasting, not caring.
Han cleaned up and prepared to go.
“Wait.” Luke looked up as Han jumped. It was the first thing Skywalker had said since the battle. “Stay.”
“Sure. I’ll grab a blanket and sack out on the couch.”
“Thanks.” Luke went to bed, and Han kicked off his boots, stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“To hell with this,” he muttered, hearing soft sobs coming from Luke’s room. He got up and went in. Gathering the crying Jedi in his arms, the Corellian said all the useless, loving things that never help.
Luke cried himself out and slept in Han’s arms. He woke from nightmares, cradled in strong arms, a warm chest snoring softly under his ear.
Han had been so good to him. He was so lonesome. More hot tears welled up and splashed in the dark hair of Han’s chest. The warm wetness woke Han, and his arms tightened around Luke.
Before he realized what was happening, Luke’s mouth was moving on his chest, nuzzling into the hair, licking at his nipples. Then Luke moved up for a kiss.
Han let him. Seeking sex after a death was quite common behavior, and Han had done his share of comfort fucks. This would be no different.
But Luke’s mouth was so good, so wet and hot and silky under his, that Han couldn’t resist anymore. He seized Luke and kissed back, hard and invasive. Oh stars that taste! He devoured the smaller man’s mouth, desperate for more.
Luke didn’t mind, he was equally desperate for touch, for an affirmation that he was alive. Han was solid abnd alive beneath him and he wrenched his mouth away to place hard kisses over the pulse point of Han’s throat, marking him, feeling the life.
“More,” Han groaned, bucking against him.
Luke rubbed back, whispering filthy ideas in several different languages. Han felt the hard ridge of Luke against his own and brought one big hand down to open their pants and rub their sexes together.
Pearls of life-force dripped across Han’s stomach as Luke kept up the stream of dirty talk in his ear. At the end of his endurance he shot and used the fluids to finish Luke.
Together they lay, sated, drowsing. Luke kissed Han’s shoulder gently.
“Han? Will you marry me?” he whispered hopefully.
“Whoa, wait, why?” Han gaped, shocked and the suddenness
“Because I’m pregnant.” Luke explained what Lavira had done to him.
“Of course I will, Luke. I love you, you know,” Han acquiesced.
“I love you too,” Luke sighed and settled into sleep. The rest of their lives was just waiting for a happily ever after.
