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Honours And Oil

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“You know, this is considered quite the honour,” Han drawls, which gets him one of those ‘trying not to smile because this is serious Jedi business’ smiles from Luke.

It’s not even a lie. It is considered an honour; Han’s heard of people paying big credits for an experience like this. And he and Luke are getting to try it for free. Okay, so they had to take on a rogue faction of Empire-sympathizers, which was one hell of a headache, so maybe ‘for free’ isn’t all that accurate. But this is a gift to them from the grateful locals, all the same.

Han’s not actually sure how he feels about it, to be honest. Sure, some appreciation for putting his neck on the line is always nice, even if he was just back-up on this mission, with Luke taking the lead and most of the risks. But someone has to be there to pull the kid out of the fire, so Han wasn’t exactly slacking off.

Gifts are always nice. Gifts that involve tentacles he’s a little more shaky on. Mostly because his experiences with tentacles are usually of the ‘oh kriff this thing is trying to kill me’ variety. He’s still kind of thankful he was most-of-the-way blind for the fight over the sarlacc pit for that very reason.

“You said they’re telepathic?” Luke asks, his eyes tracking the leisurely wave of one of the Kynckyy’s tentacle as it undulates between them.

“Yeah, mostly emotions, not words,” Han shrugs. Tentacles and some alien poking around in his head - the perfect recipe for disaster.

Luke looks perfectly calm, merely curious, and sometimes Han misses that sheltered farm boy with the wide eyes, because he’s supposed to be the unflappable one. “So they won’t do anything you don’t want,” Luke says, eyes dancing when Han frowns at him. “And you’re not obligated to go through with this - the Kynckyy have made it perfectly clear that it’s an invitation only, and they won’t be offended if you decline.”

Luke extends a hand, and a tentacle gently wraps around his wrist. Han can’t look away.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he mutters. The Kynckyy’s skin is a light purple and glistening with an oily film. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Luke laughs softly and the tentacle slides further up his forearm, leaving a glistening smear in its wake.

The main body of the Kynckyy is basically gelatinous ooze. It’s puddled around their bare feet; it feels a little like standing in a swamp, only warmer and far more pleasant smelling. More tentacles rise up, solidifying into flesh as they grow, and wave through the air between them. They sway close to Han but don’t try to touch him. There’s a pattern to the way they twist and coil together, but he can’t discern it. He suspects the movement would be peaceful, even soothing, if he concentrated on it properly.

But he can’t. Han’s far too distracted by the way a tentacle has draped itself over Luke’s shoulder, the tip pushing gently beneath the collar of Luke’s robe. Another unfurls at his waist, and the way it tugs at the loosely-knotted belt of the robe seems almost flirtatious.

Luke tilts his head, and Han sees a flash of teeth as they nibble at his bottom lip. He doesn’t know what Luke’s thinking, and it kind of kills him that the Kynckyy does, but whatever the alien sees in Luke’s mind is the permission it needs to untie the belt with one slippery movement.

Luke’s robe falls open, revealed tanned skin and white briefs. Two tentacles lurch forward and lay themselves across Han’s palm; he doesn’t even realise until he registers he’s squeezing them between his fingers.

Han’s own robe suddenly feels thicker, warmer than it did before.

Luke glances up at him, his smile slightly sheepish. “You don’t mind if I -?” He trails off, looking like he wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. The tentacle across his shoulders has reached down, moving across Luke’s chest. His skin shines with oil where it’s touched him.

“That’s what we’re here for, kid,” Han forces himself to say. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a little too much, and the tentacles wrapped around his hands wriggle happily.

Han tries to focus on the tentacles as they stroke his palm, and not the man standing across from him. They’re actually kind of pleasant, even if they don’t exactly look it, slightly hotter than his own body temperature. Their flesh feels like a cross between human and reptile - there are bumps like scales, but they’re soft and beneath the skin rather than over it. He pushes down on one bump with his thumb, and the tentacle shivers and seems to arch into the touch.

Even the oil feels nice. It cools slightly against Han’s skin, a nice contrast to the warmth of the tentacle itself. Han holds his arm up, and a tentacle grows from the ooze at his feet to loop around him just below the elbow. It doesn’t feel heavy, but the presence of it is undeniable. They’re prehensile but somehow feel like they’re filled with fat rather than muscle or bone. It reminds Han of the sensation of cupping a pair of breasts when he gives the tentacle another squeeze.

He’s actually relaxing into it, and that’s when his peripheral vision catches a flash of fabric moving. He whips his head up in time to see Luke’s robe complete its fall to the ooze beneath them.

Several tentacles instantly whisk the robe away.

“Considerate, aren’t they?” Luke teases. He’s grinning at whatever he sees on Han’s face, which is probably mostly shock and hopefully not too obvious an appreciation for the thick lines of Luke’s thighs.

“The perfect hosts,” Han deadpans.

There’s a lot more oil on Luke’s skin now; it’s pretty much everywhere, across his chest and stretching up his neck and shimmering over his arms. Han glances down, can’t stop himself, and a tentacle wraps around his waist to steady him when he realises Luke is hard.

Luke’s watching him carefully when Han’s gaze snaps back up. His lips are pressed together, his eyes dark and searching.

Han swallows thickly. “I -” He doesn’t know what to say - Leia would laugh if she were here to finally see him speechless.

Luke breathes in deeply through his nose, centring himself in that way Han recognises from battle. His eyes close briefly, and whatever thoughts and feelings he’s projecting at the tentacles makes them writhe eagerly and hurry into motion.

Luke always was the brave one.

Han watches as they stroke Luke’s body, one slick tentacle sliding over the curve of Luke’s cock beneath his briefs. Luke’s hips twitch, his lips parting in a soft gasp, and Han’s throat is dry, his breathing quick and shallow. The tentacle seems to thicken, curling around Luke’s waist to keep him in place as the tips of more tentacles drag across his briefs.

The oil soaks into the white fabric until it starts to turn slightly transparent, and Han can see the pink of Luke’s cock through it.

Han isn’t sure if it’s Luke or himself that sends the thought that makes the tentacles finally drag the briefs down over Luke’s hips. Luke’s cock slaps up against his stomach, and the muscles of his abs jump a little. Han is mesmerised; at some point a tentacle settled across his shoulders and he pets at it distractedly, gaze never leaving Luke’s body.

Tentacles slither around Luke’s cock, the appendages maybe the width of two of Han’s fingers. They cradle his balls, twist along the base, the very tip of one pressing down against the slit.

Han’s pretty sure the tentacle at Luke’s waist is the only thing holding him upright. He’s pretty sure the tentacle at his own waist is the only thing holding him upright.

More tentacles gather between Luke’s legs, wrapping around his cock until Han can’t even see the flesh of it anymore for the writhing purple around it. It startles him into looking up, and he realises that the thin tips of two tentacles are toying with Luke’s nipples, tickling over his ribs. There’s a thicker one wrapped loosely around his neck, and Luke’s face is flushed, his mouth open as he breathes heavily, his pupils blown.

The tentacle at Han’s shoulders carefully pulls off his robe. He barely notices, instinctively moving his shoulders to make it easier.

Luke’s eyelashes are fluttering, his head tipping back. Han’s gripping the tentacles in his hands hard enough that it should probably hurt, but they only twist excitedly in his palms.

He registers his own briefs getting peeled off and pulled down his legs, mostly because of how good it feels to not have the tight fabric clinging to his cock, hard and red and already wet even without the touch of that oil.

A tentacle reaches up to slide over Luke’s lower lip. It leaves the flesh shiny, and Luke’s mouth opens readily, and Han hears himself blurt out, “Wait!”

The tentacles around Han’s body vanish instantly. No, not vanish - they turn into liquid as if the flesh was never really solid to begin with, even though Han felt the evidence of it for himself. Purple liquid rains down onto the ooze at their feet, and Han’s pushing forward on autopilot. He half-expects the ooze to be difficult to wade through, because it had felt like jelly around his calves before, but it’s actually easier to move through than water.

Luke’s reaching for him in the second before Han stumbles into his space, hands pushing into Luke’s hair and dragging him forward into a kiss fierce enough to bruise.

Luke groans against him, so damn earnest that Han wants to punch himself for not doing this sooner, for not just hauling Luke in and kissing him that first time he felt the urge, back on the Falcon as they fled Mos Eisley and this mouthy brat couldn’t keep his sassy little comments to himself.

They’ve wasted so much time, years they could have been together, and it feels like all those almosts and maybes are swelling around them, making the kiss needier and needier. The tentacles around Luke loosen, and then they’re curling around them both, drawing Han and Luke’s bodies closer, and Han rocks his cock against Luke’s hip and drags his tongue along Luke’s teeth.

The tentacles tighten, and Luke bucks against him. Thinner appendages wriggle into the scant space between their bodies, and Han’s curse gets lost in Luke’s mouth as he feels them wrap around his cock. They’re moving constantly, like they’re wringing sensation out of him, but gentle, teasing. The oil cools his skin, the tentacles heat him up, and Han’s hands drop to Luke’s shoulders, clinging to him as the touch surrounds him.

Luke breaks the kiss with a gasp. His mouth falls open, blinking rapidly; Han feels the shift of his hips, the way he’s rocking up on to his toes. It’s a growing suspicion that makes Han lower his hand, sliding it down Luke’s back and stroking over the tentacles there.

A grunt is forced out of him when he feels it, the realisation hitting him like a punch, and the tentacles around his cock begin to writhe. There’s oil spread along the cleft of Luke’s ass, making the slide of Han’s fingers there slippery-smooth, and Luke’s hands dig into his skin when Han traces a thumb over the tentacle that’s pushing its way into his ass.

Fuck, Luke,” he hears himself rasp, and Luke buries his face against Han’s neck, his hair soft against Han’s cheek and his hips thrusting up hard against Han’s stomach.

He runs the pad of his finger across Luke’s rim, feeling where he’s slowly being stretched. He can’t see, although he wants to, he wants to so bad it makes him tremble, but he can feel the width of it, the way it’s growing a little thicker as Luke takes more of it.

“You should -” Luke gasps distractedly. “I want you to feel this, too.”

Han’s heart is already hammering, but it feels like his pulse flutters even faster at those words. He couldn’t, it’s too strange, but even as he’s trying to deny it, he knows what he wants.

Today is apparently a day for giving in to desires.

A tentacle slides up between his thighs, tentative in the way it touches him, like it senses his initial hesitation. Han presses a kiss to Luke’s ear and spreads his legs in as blatant an invitation as he can manage.

The tentacle’s tip drags across the skin behind Han’s balls, the cooling sensation making his cock leak against Luke’s skin. It goes slow, telegraphing every move, and Han’s shaking slightly by the time the tip presses down against his hole. It’s only the lightest pressure, letting him adjust to it, and Han feels like he’s been a passenger on this trip up until now, but his usual impatience is blinking back to life. His back arches, pushing into the touch, and then the very tip is sliding inside him.

He drags in a breath, eyes squeezing shut, and lets his body be opened.

The slide of it is smooth, oil making everything slippery. Han’s muscles tense up for a beat and then relax again, and it pushes deeper. He’s stretched, and knowing Luke is experiencing the same thing only makes it hotter.

He noses at Luke’s neck, tugs at him until he can cradle Luke’s face, until he can pull him back into a kiss that’s messy and greedy, lips moving distractedly against each other as the tentacles fuck them both. Han’s hand is still on Luke’s ass, and he can trace the tentacle with his fingers, feel how the one inside of Luke has already grown thicker than the one that’s pushing into him. It ripples beneath his fingers and Luke cries out, his whole body pushing forward in surprise.

Han clenches down on the tentacle inside of him, body reacting to the lust in Luke’s voice. Those bumps beneath the tentacle’s skin drag along his insides, creating sweet thrills of friction through the oil, and the tentacles around his cock have been content to move gently but now they begin to stroke him with more determination.

They’re going to make him come. They’re going to make Luke come. Han isn’t sure which he’s anticipating most.

He grinds his hips forward into the grip of the tentacles, the head of his cock bumping against Luke’s own. The tentacle in his ass moves with him, getting thicker so gradually he can barely feel it, until a questing tentacle at his slit makes him clench up again. Luke’s murmuring against his lips; the only word Han can pick out is his name, repeated over and over.

He wants to see Luke lose it, wants to see him fall apart. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, tentacles are wrapping snug around his balls, keeping him back from the edge of climax, and Han almost wants to laugh at how wily the little things are, but he’s too busy growling out his appreciation.

He can feel Luke shaking against him. They’re not really kissing anymore, mouths sliding together when their bodies moves. Luke’s eyes are hooded, but he looks up into Han’s face, so stupidly gorgeous, and Han’s actually pretty damn glad when the tentacles tighten up around his sac, because just looking at Luke is getting him closer.

Beneath his fingers, the tentacle in Luke’s ass shifts again, and Han isn’t thinking about what he’s doing, is only reacting as he presses a finger up beside it. Pulling down on Luke’s rim, oil everywhere, and then his finger is slipping into the tight heat of Luke’s ass beside the tentacle, and Luke practically screams against him. Hips snapping back, like he’s trying to get more of Han, get him deeper, and the tentacles wrapped around them both are practically vibrating as Luke comes, a rush of slick heat against Han’s stomach that makes his ass clench down again.

The tentacle in his ass moves, undulating the way the one inside of Luke had, and Han barks out a shout as it pushes down on something inside of him that makes his vision light up like stars streaking through hyperspace. His whole body is tingling with it, like all his nerve-endings branch out from that one point, and the tentacles at his balls loosen their grip, the ones around his cock squeeze him tight, and Luke kisses him passionately as Han comes all over his skin.

Things are kind of hazy for a long minute, after that. When awareness creeps back in, it’s partly the tentacles and partly them leaning into each other that has him and Luke still on their feet. The ones around his cock slide away slowly, like they don’t want to leave him, and Han shivers in mourning once they’re gone.

The one in his ass slims down in the same way it’d grown thicker before it slides out of him. He knows it slides out of Luke at the same moment by the soft whimpering noise Luke makes.

Luke’s face is pressed to Han’s neck again, and Han strokes his fingers through Luke’s hair. His hand is still oily, but everything is oily, so at this point it doesn’t make much difference.

“You okay?” Luke asks quietly, sounding fucked-out and happy.

Han makes an agreeable sound. “We should save this planet more often.”

Luke laughs, his breath a warm chuff of air, and the Kynckyy’s tentacles looped around their waists give them a little squeeze, like they very much share the sentiment.