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“Luke,” Ben whispered. “Please.”
His penis rested against Ben’s inner thigh, thick but quiescent. This was in stark contrast to Ben’s. Ben’s was already desperately hard.
The Emptiness was awake inside Ben…and it was hungry.
“Please…” Ben repeated. His hips jerked. An involuntary reflex.
Luke closed his eyes and stilled. When he concentrated he barely seemed to breathe. Ben lifted his head, craning his neck forwards to watch as Luke’s penis began to rise, foreskin rolling back to expose the glans, moisture gathering at the slit.
The lubricant he used to prepare them both was pleasantly warm, with a sweet, sunbaked scent—so much like Luke himself. Ben caught one last glimpse of Luke’s penis, a tiny, crystalline bead of fluid sliding in slow motion down the underside of the shaft like teardrop, before it began to ease Ben open.
He was gentle. So very, very gentle. How frustrating! Ben was thirteen years old; Luke didn’t have to treat him like a child! Ben tossed his head from side to side and moaned, wanting harder, wanting faster, wanting more, wanting now. He fisted the edges of the sleeping pallet, the odd, almost queasy feeling of Luke moving within him so wrong, so unnatural, and yet so very, very right—
Luke finally struck bottom. He paused there, unmoving, scrotum nestled between Ben’s buttocks. His gaze was so clear and blue. Beautiful. “Ben?”
“Please, Luke,” Ben choked out. His heart was stuck in his throat. “Move.”
“All right.”
With steadying hands placed on Ben’s hips, Luke obliged. Ben’s thoughts whited out; he couldn’t feel the Emptiness gnawing at him anymore. There was only the pleasure, the in and out, in and out, in and out friction of copulation, the precise strikes against his prostate gland, the tap, tap, tap of his own erection against his belly, moments, mere moments from climax—
Luke’s rhythm did not falter when, untouched, Ben began to ejaculate. He accepted the frantic clench of Ben’s inner muscles around the length of his shaft, and he swallowed Ben’s cries of ecstasy with a kiss. When the crest of Ben’s passion crashed over top him with the uncontrolled, uncontrollable power of a tsunami in the Force, he was unswayed.
And after Ben’s orgasm had subsided, Luke eased out of Ben just as gently and carefully as he’d entered him. His penis was swollen, rampant, glistening. But he had not come himself.
He never did. Not ever.
***
They didn’t bother with lubricant anymore. The Emptiness was becoming more difficult to ignore or suppress, and for the stronger distraction it offered, Ben had learned to prefer pleasure intense enough to be practically pain.
He tried not to think about the pain this was causing Luke. Luke was his Master and his mother’s twin brother. Luke loved him! He would never hesitate to give Ben the help he needed.
The first penetration was sharp, a stab, and the friction burn of entry made Ben tense and grind his teeth. His fingers were curling into talons around Luke’s shoulders, nails indenting and nearly breaking the skin. It wasn’t so easy anymore, or so gentle, but Ben was fifteen years old now—he knew could take it! He had done it before! Ben spread his legs wider to try to make himself more open.
Finally, after three short seconds, after three whole ages of the galaxy, it was done. “Ben?” Luke asked. His beautiful blue eyes were dilated, the pupils like pools of depthless black.
“Please, Luke.” Ben’s words were a low growl behind a locked jaw. “Move.”
“All right.”
The thrusts were fast, deep, and utterly merciless. Their hearts raced; their flesh was sticky with perspiration; the bitter musk of their sex filled their nostrils, so intoxicating. Ben chewed on the slick inside of his cheek until he could taste blood; the sensation of Luke’s penis inside him was so much more vivid like this. Ben imagined he could feel every tiny fold of skin, every minute tracery of vein. He memorized the shape of the glans, like a summer-ripened shuura fruit, the flared edge catching on his anal sphincter with each aching partial withdrawal—
They continued undulating together even as Ben made a mess between them. His nose and mouth were buried in the coarse prickles of Luke’s beard, his hands kneading the flesh of Luke’s back. The Force flowed freely between them, emotions and sensations blended together, indistinguishable from each other. Transcendent. It was perfect; they were perfect. And they continued undulating together in perfect unison even as Ben’s orgasm subsided—the Emptiness was already threatening to return, yes, he could feel it, and he didn’t want Luke to leave—he wanted Luke inside him, holding the Emptiness at bay forever—
But of course that was not possible. Ben whimpered with distress as Luke pulled out of him completely. Luke was panting, his chest heaving, straining for breath. Then he turned abruptly away, far enough away that he was out of the long reach of Ben’s long, grasping limbs.
For he would not let Ben touch him, and he would not let Ben see:
He would not let Ben see as he took himself to hand and brought himself quickly, violently, to orgasm.
***
The Emptiness was a vast, yawning, howling black hole of infinite torment. It was always taking, always craving, always demanding more. Nothing truly assuaged its hunger…not any longer.
Not even sex every night with Luke.
At seventeen years old, Ben had grown taller and heavier than Luke. In subsequent years he could be expected to grow even heavier still as he filled out in the shoulders and the chest. Hells, maybe he’d actually grow as big as Darth Vader!
And yet, Ben never felt so safe and happy as when he and Luke were wrapped in carnal union around each other. Slow and gentle or fast and rough had come to matter less to Ben than the simple closeness, the weight of Luke’s body on Ben’s, the sensation of chest resting against chest. Of Luke—so cherished! so beloved!—within Ben.
Ben was already finished, clots of semen cooling in his pubic hair…but he did not want them to be done. No, not yet. Not quite yet.
“Stay in me, Luke,” he pleaded, holding Luke close, refusing to let him pull out and turn away as was his usual custom. “Please. Stay in me when you come.”
Luke shuddered. He hesitated, riven by warring emotions. By unnameable guilt. “Ben, I…”
“Please,” Ben repeated. He knew what Luke was thinking, which was why he’d never asked for this before. He’d been too afraid of Luke’s refusal, his rejection. “It would mean so much to me.” Ben paused, took a deep breath, and took the final plunge. “I love you.”
For a moment, a brief, horrible, terrible moment, Ben thought Luke would refuse him, would reject him. That the Emptiness would win. But then—oh wonder of wonders!—Luke moaned, wordless, broken, and resumed thrusting. Ben clung to Luke, overjoyed. The rhythm was different this time, different than all the countless other times, for it was a rhythm meant for Luke’s pleasure, not Ben’s. Ben could not control this, not even if he wanted to. But he didn’t. What Ben wanted was to be filled. Filled.
One pounding thrust, and another, and another, and then Luke began wailing lowly. The polished edges of his teeth grazed Ben’s jugular vein as he fell forward and poured himself—absolutely poured himself—into Ben.
“Yes, more!” Ben cried. Luke’s penis was throbbing against Ben’s inner muscles, and Ben gloried the feel of the hot wash of Luke’s semen. Maybe this would be what vanquished the Emptiness for good, once and for all. “Please, Luke! Fill me up!”
Luke gasped and resumed thrusting before his orgasm had fully subsided. He quickly came again. And again. By then, they were both screaming.
“Ben, oh Ben!”
“More, more, more!” Ben chanted. “Fill me, Luke, fill me, fill me!”
As Luke tumbled headlong into a fourth annihilating orgasm, Ben noticed how bloodshot Luke’s eyes were, how tortured his expression. And it was then that Ben realized something new, something very, very important:
There was an Emptiness in Luke too.
END