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The shuttle would take five days to get to Coruscant.
Luke gazed out at the star-field, drawn into long streaks by hyperspace, and wondered what the apprentices might be getting up to in his absence. Heela was almost certainly investigating the rocky outcropping that he had forbidden them all to explore due to the risk of them breaking their necks; Emory was probably trying to arrange a duel or competition involving music or fruit or something ridiculous; and Saravanastri, whom he had left in charge as the oldest and most sensible of the apprentices, was probably trying to foil these plots even as he thought about them.
Ordinarily, he would have left Ben and Saravanastri in charge together, as they tended to balance out each other's worst impulses (though they did not especially like each other. It was an uncomfortable fact of Luke's teaching life that the other students did not, as a rule, especially like Ben; and their lack of regard was returned). But Ben had to come to Coruscant to see his parents for Leia and Luke's forty-fifth nameday, at Han's request.
Han had told him over the vidphone that Leia needed a rest and to see their son for the first time in over a year. The poor-quality flickering blue hologram had looked tired. Han would never say that he needed to see Ben for the same reasons, but Luke understood. So they were bound for Coruscant, trapped for five days on small but admittedly comfortable shuttle, with only each other for company.
Thus the journey went. Luke liked his nephew, and knew that Ben liked spending time with him - in fact, he would eagerly seek out any opportunity for more contact with his uncle. There was no reason to suppose that they would find sharing the small space difficult, nor that the journey would be in any way unpleasant. There was no reason for Luke to feel uneasy.
Still, he was glad to look at the chronometer and the nav system and see that they were already a day out of the Yavin system.
He heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned to find Ben approaching, a cup of caf cradled in his hands. He was growing by the day, and had the look of a teenager who would be tall: now he was just gangly, with huge hands and feet. He handed over the caf to Luke with a small smile - he still had some smiles for Luke, even in his current phase of teenaged grumpiness. Luke smiled back and felt the heat of the caf transmit through the plastisteel cup.
There was nothing odd about the exchange, nothing unusual: Ben might well bring his uncle and Master a cup of caf from the ship's tiny kitchenette just as he might back on Yavin. Ben liked to do these things for Luke, as the appropriate gestures of a good apprentice. But the hairs on the back of Luke's neck stood up as he took the cup and, just for a moment, their fingers touched.
On the second day, the atmosphere was still strange. Ben seemed to look at him more often - but of course he did, when there was nothing else to look at but the empty vast bleakness of space. Ben seemed to be there all the time - but of course he was, when the ship was so small. Luke couldn't get away from him - they couldn't get away from each other. And why should he want to? He so rarely got the chance to spend uninterrupted time with his favourite nephew. Why did he now seek out the nav computer to check that they were heading to Coruscant on time, checking the estimated hours left in transit?
(He knew why, or thought he did. But the truth was so inappropriate, so unimaginable, that he didn't yet know how to approach it; so, in an act of cowardice he would later regret, he let it fester a little longer).
The third day dawned with Ben carrying a cup of caf into his tiny quarters. There were certainly far less pleasant ways to be woken up. Luke didn't get out of his bunk immediately, but sat up and talked to Ben while he sat on the end of the bunk. The bulkhead was low over the berth, so Ben had to hunch down and lean forwards. It looked uncomfortable, but Ben didn't seem to care.
At lunchtime - they were trying to keep to the Coruscant 25-hour day on board - Luke challenged Ben to a game of holochess. This was revenge for the second day's attempt at playing sabacc and dejarik, both of which had culminated in very decisive victories to Ben and by extension Han's ingenious method of teaching Ben mathematics the way he had taught himself - through gambling.
The reasons for his unease became clear only on the third night.
There was no true night on a starship, as there was no true night in space: but Luke had arranged for the lights of the shuttle to mimic the cicadian cycle of Coruscant as much as they could. Therefore, by 22hrs Coruscant time, the ship's lighting had dimmed to a glow. Luke sat in the small living area, reading a novel written by a man who had lived among the Tusken Raiders, by a small spotlamp. Ben was practicing katas behind him, and Luke kept being distracted from his book by the knowledge that Ben was doing so without a shirt. But this was another component of what he was trying not to think about.
Luke wasn't quite asleep when the hatch to his berth slid open.
He ought to have said something. But he didn't. Perhaps Ben was only checking on him, as he had as a child - 'to check that Uncle Luke is still alive, Mommy'. Perhaps it was only that.
It wasn't. Ben's heavy footsteps padded over the steel deck towards the bunk. The berth was small in the first place, and Luke was intimately aware of just how cramped it felt with Ben in it too. He could feel him looming over the bunk, feel his lambent gaze - no, Luke told himself, all you know is that he's standing over you; for all you know, he's about to draw his lightsaber. He kept his breathing even.
In a swift, decisive movement, Ben pulled back the covers and got into bed with him.
There wasn't room in the narrow bunk for two grown or nearly-grown men. It simply wasn't physically possible for them both to fit without parts sticking out and one of them half-off the mattress. This berth was strictly one-occupant.
This didn't matter to Ben, who enfolded Luke in his embrace and tugged him so that he was more-or-less lying under his nephew, nose mashed into his prominent collarbones.
At this point, Luke gave up on his pretense of sleep. Nobody could sleep through that.
"Ben, what are you doing?" He tried to sound as annoyed as he could about the situation, as if Ben were a needy eight-year-old again instead of an inappropriately forward teenager.
In response, Ben clumsily mashed his mouth over Luke's.
It wasn't the absolute worst kiss Luke had ever been subjected to, because neither of them had recently vomited; but nevertheless, it ranked up there. Poor thing, it was almost certainly his first, unless he'd quite misread the tension between him and Saravanastri.
Ben just kept at it, his big mouth working at Luke's, trying to convince him to respond.
After a long moment, he did. Unsurprisingly, when he stopped lyng there like a board and participated, the kiss got a lot better. Ben's arms tightened around him possesively.
After a few seconds of what was actually not a bad kiss, if rather enthusiastic, the touch of Ben's tongue reminded Luke that he was not supposed to be doing this. He pushed Ben away by the shoulders - though gently, so he wouldn't fall straight onto the deck.
Ben's brown eyes were huge in the dim emergency lighting. The way his hair fell in his face made him look vulnerable, as did his expression. He was looking at Luke like he wanted to kiss him again. He tried to lean in, but Luke stopped him, holding him at not-quite arm's length.
"Ben, you know we can't." He'd meant to be firm, but his voice came out as a murmur in the small room. It sounded low and intimate. No wonder Ben didn't look convinced: Luke wasn't convinced himself.
"Of course we can." Ben's voice was equally low. He had a very attractive voice, and Luke wished that it didn't have the effect on him that it did. His lips were wet, and, as if he'd noticed Luke's gaze, he licked them again so they shone in the dim light.
"Go back to your own berth, Ben." Luke didn't shove him out, but the firm squeeze he gave to Ben's shoulders was meant to convey the same sentiment.
"No." Ben leaned in again, suddenly forceful, to press their mouths together once more. He still didn't know how to kiss nicely, but his raw enthusiasm was exciting. His long arms tugged Luke closer again, pressing their bodies together. He made as if to roll Luke onto his back, but Luke shoved him away once more - and not so gently this time.
Sprawled on the deck, Ben looked up at Luke resentfully from behind his hair. Luke could see that he had the beginnings of an erection tenting the crotch of his sleeping clothes.
"You want it too," he said fiercely, "I know you do. You can't hide it from me."
"Ben, we've talked about the ethics of reading other people's minds."
"I don't even need to try!" He scrambled up off the deck. Luke was still in the bunk, and Ben, drawn up to his full height, loomed over him. "I know."
Alarmed, Luke flung back the covers, making to rise - but Ben shoved him back to sprawl against the mattress and crawled on top of him. His hands burned through the thin sleep tunic Luke wore.
"You can't stop it," he said, his great dark eyes boring into Luke's, angry and pleading. His hand felt white-hot on Luke's face. "Please, Uncle Luke."
Luke tried, but Ben's weight crushed him into the bed, and his panting moistened Luke's ear. Luke struggled with his own strength and with the Force, but Ben was bigger and heavier, and the Force slithered out of Luke's grasp like streams of sand.
"Stop, Ben," Luke croaked. "This isn't you - you mustn't do this!"
"It is me." Ben continued to breathe heavily in his ear, from the struggle or something else. He pawed clumsily at Luke's clothes with his other hand. "You know how long I've wanted this. I know how long you've wanted it too. I'll show you, I promise."
Since Ben had effectively gagged him with the pillow, Luke wasn't in a position to argue. Ben was clearly determined to make love to him - if necessary, by force.
Caught underneath Ben's body and still unable to throw off his nephew with the Force, Luke struggled in vain as Ben's huge hot hand slid up his thigh and tentatively cupped his soft genitals. Ben's erection was digging into his thigh.
The tiny berth felt cramped and oppressive, and swelteringly hot. Ben gave off heat like a furnace, and his kisses and touches were inescapable. His tongue traced Luke's lips, and Luke entertained the wild thought of biting it.
Ben caught him in a tighter grip, cupping his jaw and reaching around to squeeze his ass. He held him there as he began to thrust his erection against Luke's thigh.
Luke closed his eyes.
He closed his eyes against the knowledge that Ben was rocking back and forth above him, against him, taking his sexual pleasure on his uncle's unwilling body. He closed his eyes against the horrible understanding that he himself had caused this: that his actions had let this obsession fester, until Ben's teenaged passions had reached boiling point. He closed his eyes in the face of his own helplessness.
Ben huffed loud breaths out through his nose, his mouth gone slack in their kiss. Luke could feel the power in his young body, the body that pinned him to the bunk on their tiny starship. Ben's hand on his face was clumsy but tender, his kisses inexpert but sincere. He wanted Luke desperately, so desperately that he was willing to have him by force. Luke could struggle as he liked: Ben would have what he wanted.
He still couldn't call on the Force. Why couldn't he call on the Force? Why did it slip away from him, like a dream on the edge of consciousness? Was it Ben? Was it the Force itself, condoning what was happening? But no, no matter what half-baked ideas Han had about it, that wasn't how the Force worked. The Force neither condoned nor condemned: it only was. So why couldn't he harness it now?
Ben moved faster, his hot breath running over Luke's mouth. When had he opened it? But Ben was too distracted to try to lick his lips or stick his tongue inside. His erection was a burning line against Luke's thigh. This was all it took, just like all teenage boys: a little heavy petting, the chance to hump the thigh of the person he found attractive. Poor Ben, he thought a little wildly: he had only wanted to make love to his uncle, and Luke had made it so difficult for him. The heat of the room and coming off Ben was making him dizzy. If he fainted, he wondered, would Ben stop?
Ben groaned, his head dropping to one side so his hot breath hit Luke's neck and made him shudder. Luke could feel his legs twitching, his hips thrusting so hard Luke was pressed into the mattress.
Suddenly Ben grunted and stopped. His weight crushed Luke into the mattress so painfully that Luke could hardly catch his breath for the long, agonising moment when Ben strained and came. Sticky dampness seeped onto Luke's thigh. Ben was panting in his ear like he'd just run a race. Gradually, he relaxed. Luke prepared to throw him off and end the indignity.
Ben's warm hand let go of his face at last and slipped down once more. He fondled Luke's half-hard cock - when had that happened? Why had that happened? - with a more patient air than he'd had earlier. Luke shifted, hoping to discourage him now he'd come; but Ben took him in a firmer grip and continued to stroke, curiously sliding the foreskin back and forth over the head a few times. Luke knew what he was feeling, his first time holding someone else's dick in his hand - or did he? He was glad that Ben, nose still buried in his neck, couldn't see his face.
Instead of getting bored or even embarrassed now that he'd found his own release, Ben kept on touching him. His other hand slid inside Luke's tunic to feel his chest. He stroked the hair, and played curiously with his nipples. Luke gritted his teeth. His cock was responding to his nephew's touch.
This was the worst part: that Ben could hold him down like this and touch him so intimately, and his body would like it. Feeling the sticky release of Ben's come had been dangerous, but bearable. because it wasn't, really, anything to do with him. He could wash or sonic off the mess and speak with Ben from the point of view of the experienced mentor. It would have been very embarrassing for both of them, but Luke, at least, would still have been able to admit nothing.
Ben slowly masturbating him while tentatively exploring his body was not safe. It forced Luke to admit to things that he had been trying not to admit to. If he came in Ben's hand, if he gave in, how could he speak to Ben with authority? How could he tell Ben that this kind of infatuation was normal for teenagers but that forcing yourself on the object of that infatuation was wrong, if he had obviously enjoyed it? But he wasn't enjoying it, he was powerless and Ben had pinned him down with his body after he'd said no, had given him no choice - but his erection was stiff and full in Ben's hand, and he knew what would eventually have to happen.
He tried to hold it off. As a teenager, he and his friends had swapped dirty and rather dubious stories about how to increase sexual potency and prowess. At his age, the problem was supposed to be quite the opposite - but he could feel himself responding unwillingly to Ben's touch, and he fought his body to stop it. What better method of dissuasion than to turn soft under Ben's inexpert touch? But it had been so long since he'd been made love to, and Ben was so careful, so earnest, that his cock only ached and leaked. It throbbed in Ben's hand, and he knew Ben felt it.
But the worst was yet to come. Ben raised his head to look him in the face. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth wet and red. His hair hung in his face and tickled Luke's cheek. He stared into Luke's eyes as he touched him so tenderly, until Luke had to close his own eyes again and turn his head.
"Look at me," whispered Ben in a hoarse voice. "You're so - look at me, please."
Luke squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He was hot, and sweet-sharp strings of pleasure rippled through him as Ben jerked his erection. The sound of it was obscene and embarrassing. He was going to come, his body heavy and burning and strangely lax in Ben's embrace. His cock spat out more precome, and Ben spread it around with his fingers. He ought to fight, to struggle now that Ben was distracted, but his mind and body seemed disjunct, and his hips only rocked forwards and instead of telling or begging Ben to stop, his mouth only moaned.
"Yes," Ben murmured. Luke knew he was still watching his face. "Yes..." Images flashed before his eyes of the two of them further entangled: Ben sucking him off in the pilot's chair, him sucking Ben off in his apprentice's cell, Ben riding him in the bed that had been his in Leia and Han's house two or three moves ago. Thoughts, dreams, fantasies he had never had, never dared nor wanted to have.
"Stop it," he croaked. Ben's desperate, lascivious fantasies battered his mind, mixing with his own arousal and Ben's renewed desire from watching his uncle writhe and moan underneath him. He saw himself from Ben's perspective: the sheen of sweat on his face, his bitten lips, his hard throbbing cock about to - about to -
When he came in hard, shuddering pulses of unwelcome pleasure, he saw nothing but stars.
"Told you," Ben whispered, when the ringing in his ears had stopped. There was a slick-slick noise, and after a moment Luke realised that it was Ben masturbating again. "Told you you'd like it."