They should have guessed this wouldn't have been easy.

Even while sneaking on a luxury liner filled to the brim with civilians, either making use of their spacious cabins or the recreation, namely the spice trade with well-respected, charismatic dealers. That's not what he's here for.

Luke believed they had the exact layout of the starship — until this mishap. It's a brightly lit, enclosed area they drop into, hot and stuffy with colorless walls all around them, and not enough room to turn Luke's body in any direction.

Han's squeezed up behind him, yelling out and then Leia argues with him over Luke's shoulder, blocked by his front.

They're all capable of standing upright, that's one blessing.

"Oh, this is just perfect…"

"At least it ain't the trash compactor, kid," Han replies to Luke's groaning observation. The memory drudges up a shudder.

No longer yelling, Leia says tonelessly, "It's fortunate none of us are claustrophobic, for that matter." She meets Luke's eyes, and then flashes him a brief, amiable smile as he does the same. Her arms are cramped and folded uncomfortably against Luke's chest, her fingers twitching occasionally to his jet-black tunic. "That would be prove an issue."

"Yes, it — Han!" Luke nearly lets out a squeak. He's indignant all the same, his eyebrows raised and mouth going slack when Han's hips jostle rudely into him. A lick of heat crawls up to Luke's belly. "Watch it, will you!?"

Han barks out a laugh, sounding anything but amused about this.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," he says curtly, earning a narrow-eyed glare from Luke he can't see at the angle. Guess he never heard it's unwise to piss off a caged Jedi. "Not like I got a lot of room to work here."

"Commander?" Leia tries her comm-link once more. She huffs. "Commander, this is the Scepter — are you there?"

Nothing but the blaring, crackling silence on all of their links.

"… Don't think he is."

"We just need to assess the situation," she insists, remaining visibly calm despite her irritation. Luke's thankful for her composure, palming thoughtfully over his lightsaber at his belt. They're on the lower levels of the starship, so maybe…

Luke squirms in place, frowning when Han's body presses up tightly to him once again.

"Han, what is that?"

Another laugh, this time softer and breathy. A warm gust of Han's air hitting the curve of Luke's right ear, as the other man murmurs, "Two guesses, but I'll give you a freebie, kid… it ain't a blaster in my pocket…"

Leia snorts aloud, rolling her eyes.

"Really?" Luke hisses out, his jaw clenching. "You have to do this here?"

"Hey, not like I can exactly help it," Han says, less with protest and not bothering to disguise the glee in his voice. "Your ass keeps rubbing up on my junk — it remembers what it likes."

"None of this is an invitation, Han."

"Why not?" Leia counters. They stare at her with equal expressions of curiosity and shock. She disarms the tension with a slowly building grin and a half-shrug, glancing over both of the men. "It's not as if we're going anywhere, right? No one knows where we are."

"Well, well… looks your sister has got the right idea for a change."

Han's sounding a little too pleased about this, and Luke fights off the wild and unexplained urge to scream out in frustration. No, no, no — bunk arrangements were one thing, and desirable, and it's not like he doesn't

"Listen, we're all trapped in a small, confined venting system. There are Imperial and Qiraash guards looking for us — now is really not the time for this," Luke explains, hoarsely. Sweat quickly dampens his brow and Luke's blue eyes shut. He cringes at how everything feels like it's spinning and how the top of his head feels too light.

"We'll get out of this, just relax for a minute," Han tells him, cradling his hands to Luke's hips and waiting expectantly for the other man to suck in a deep, trembling breath. "That's it, Luke, take it easy — any luck?"

"Transmissions must still jammed. I'm not getting anything," Leia answers. "There's no visible data-panels anywhere either."

Han makes a low, considering grunt, his head attempting to tilt. "Could try the floor," he says.

"Stomping on one of them could either open up another vent—"

"—Or hurl us into the empty, airless void outside the starship," Luke points out dully, reopening his eyes finally. He's never noticed the dash of freckles across Leia's tiny, pale nose. They're adorable.

"Your pragmatism under stress is admirable," she retorts without scathing nature, not missing a beat.

"We still got a round of explosives, two blasters, and a Jedi lightsaber between the three of us." Han proclaims, beaming at the back of Luke's head and then Leia who chuckles. "I'm liking these odds so far. Bring on the neighborhood welcome wagon."

Luke groans out weakly, fidgeting, "Please stop talking."

"Alright then…"

Han's palms run up and down his hips and waist, like a soothing and gentle pressure.

Luke feels his muscles unravel their tautness, his breathing becoming steadier. He avoids Leia's studious look. When Han's fingers graze over his thighs, Luke's breathing stutters in and hitches out in a low, amazed noise. It's no time at all for his cock to pulse and fill with blood, his nerves firing up and aroused.

"S'alright… you're safe here with us."

In the back of Luke's mind, he doesn't doubt this. His lips feel coarse and dry, parting when he finally meets Leia's gaze, watching her dark and blown pupils, magnetized by them and by all of her. Her thin, softening features.

He murmurs her name, whether it's a question or a decision reached, or pure need before Leia's mouth overtakes his.

She's a tempest inside him, raging with emotions and fears and love. It's stronger in the Force than he's ever felt from anyone focusing their energy on him. Luke inclines his head, attempting to give her a better way to reach him. He accepts the weight of Leia's tongue searching past his teeth, as their kiss draws itself out and swallows up the rest of his senses. Luke releases a quiet, yielding moan into her, scraping their noses together and backing off.

Leia sips the bit of saliva off his bottom lip, grinning euphorically against Luke's rosy-hot face. They barely giggle, it's barely surprise, because this isn't the first time they've ever been this close. Han's grasp clenches down on Luke's hips.

"Think I'm beginning to like this development," Han says, panting against him. He nibbles a path over Luke's throat. Luke moans again, just as quiet, getting distracted by him and Leia's hands shifting, tracing over his sternum, her thumbs locating the shape of his nipples through the material of his tunic. "It's getting you hot too, isn't it?"

Luke gulps a delirious, sudden cry, bucking up when Han touches his groin, rubbing down hard over his cock.

It's just… it's happened all too fast. And he doesn't want it to ever stop.

"Oh, hell…"

"He's burning up," Leia observes with a clinical tone, as if Luke isn't writhing in pleasure between them.

"Good, that's just the way I like him…"

As Han growls out that sentence, Leia's fingers inch and brush against his mouth. Luke catches a scent in his nostrils like manufactured durasteel and the mellow, sweet fragrance of her hand-lotion, and he can taste it on her fingertips.

Luke suckles on her forefinger, rounding his mouth around it before accepting the push of Leia's middle finger, eyelids slitting. He drools around them, his face burning hot with embarrassment and awareness as she drags her teeth over her lower lip.

"Too bad your fingers ain't a cock, princess. He's an ace deep-throater."

"I don't need one to appreciate this, but thanks," Leia replies, forgoing sarcasm, smiling widely at Luke's muffled, garbled whine. She's the pinnacle of control and unworldly patience, reaching around Luke as Han undoes the other man's belt and trousers.

Leia's body-warm, glistening fingers make a slick-slide exploration against the crease of his ass. With a little, urging nudge, she's sinking a knuckle deep inside Luke's hole, causing a loud, beautifully frenzied gasp.

"Easy, easy, Luke." Han's whispering up against him again, his stubble rasping Luke's nape. Luke can't get his mouth on the other man, to kiss him or taste Han's perspiring, musky skin, and it's driving him crazy. "How good you taking it?"

"Aah… feels good…"

"Yeah?" Han leers at a grinning Leia, needing to peer over Luke's shoulder. "Think the man just paid you a compliment."

"I'll return the favor later," she says, enigmatically.

"Oh, I'd like to see that—don't think I've ever seen you go down."

"I prefer eating out over it."

Han's laugh rumbles against Luke's back. "Now you're speaking my language, sister," he says with clear approval. "Sounds like a grand ole time, doesn't it, kid? Leia putting her tongue inside you, opening you up nice and wet instead of her fingers."

Luke jerks his hips up, stifling a new, growing moan behind his clamped lips as Han's hands linger southward. They peel apart Luke's buttocks, opening him wider for Leia's fingers impaling, curling and thrusting inside him.

He's unsure how long it's been when Luke's wits regain themselves. His black uniform feels moist at his armpits and shoulder-blades. He reeks like his own sweat and fluids, his limbs quivering from the combination of his over-sensitized frame and the never-ending, carnal lust pooling him. Leia's empty hand alternates between holding the side of Luke's face, and then combing into his sandy-gold hair, as if reassuring him through his short, screaming wails for air, for more.

Luke's face burrows into Leia's neck, his heart pounding in his ears. Han's talking to him again—he talked him through the first orgasm, nipping the sensitive and reddening flesh under Luke's ear, pumping him wildly, clumsily.

"Things I'd do to you right now, kid…" One of Luke's hand scrambles for Han's thigh, his neck arching. "Need a little more room for them though… could bend you over the consoles. Get you undressed and keyed up. Begging for me to fill you up."

Han's letting go of his semi-flaccid cock, and soon, Leia's fingers are joined with bigger, rougher ones. Ones that easily stretch his hole and press to the swollen, mind-blowing gland inside him. Luke practically sobs out. He's never been stuffed open this much before — little preparation or not. It doesn't hurt so much as it's overwhelming him.

Leia murmurs to him and grasps him, stroking up the veined root of his cock rhythmically when he feels close again. Luke's own hands follow her guidance, stripping apart her double-belt and the buttons in fumbling, aggressive motions.

She's soaking through her underwear, fluttering like a twin heartbeat.

He feels along for the hot, familiar ridge of her clitoris, fondling against it and getting her to separate her legs. He loves Leia's pinkening cheeks, and the glint of mischief and dazed happiness in her eyes. He wants to tell her a million and one things — the kind of secretive and bittersweet things that makes his gut ache and his lonely heart regret, about her and about Han, and how badly he wants them.

Leia smears the damp, come-sticky glans of Luke's cockhead to her innermost thighs, rubbing him on the outer folds of her vaginal lips. She moans out when Luke thrusts against them, gripping onto Leia's hips with uncharacteristic fierceness.

He can't get inside her like this, and with no available lubricant, it's not happening—only a mere thought because she's coming without a warning—and Luke can feel it rippling over him through their connection, and physically as her fluids drip and soak him. Luke thrusts between her thighs one last time, leaking and emptying himself. He groans, tensing around Han's fingers as the other man grunts, shuddering bodily against Luke's neck.

A chord of relief thrums in Luke's chest—Han's gotten his as well. Even if it was inside his clothes.

Luke's breathless, from loving words and filthy ones that make his ears burn hot, and the stimulation. His head rests forward as Leia and Han tempt fate, stretching forward to kiss each other without jostling their middle occupant. It doesn't last long, but the noises are sloppy-wet and ravenous as their lips press hungrily against each other.

"How's it going, sweetheart?" Han asks, gazing over her with interest.

She wipes her hands on the inside of her loosened, untucked shirt, redoing her belt. "Fairly well considering," Leia says. Several tendrils of her dark brown locks hovering against her flushed cheeks. "However, I think we may broke my brother."

Luke mumbles incoherently, now leaning heavily on Han steadying him. His hands bracketing Luke's heaving sides.

"Nothing a little fresh air can't cure—" Han frowns at her ominous, deadpan stare, as she pauses completely from straightening up Luke's robes, tucking and clinching his belt. "—whenever that happens."

"Uuh, Han..."

Luke's voice comes out too-soft and insistent.

Han nuzzles against his warm throat. "M'right here," he says.

"You're... a laserbrain."

"See, what did I tell you? Right as rain in no time," Han says proudly, as Leia purses her mouth and shakes her head at him. She strokes over Han's fingers and then slowly Luke's hips, giving her twin brother a benevolent, soft peck on his chin.

And that's when the entire floor vanishes beneath them.



The landing for everyone is soft and slimy — and right onto of a murderous, hellishly-roaring creature. The darkness pierces away with the buzzing, green-glow of Luke's lightsaber chopping off its massive claws lunging at them.



Once returned from their (tragically unsuccessful) mission, Luke discovers the Commander turning beet-red under his gaze. Along with the Lieutenants and even Wedge —stammering out an excuse to leave and doing all but fleeing from Luke.

The confusion doesn't last — not even an hour, when Luke detaches his still transmitting comm-link from around his ear.

Oh, hell.



SW is not mine. I'M POSTING A DAY LATE FOR STAR WARS POLYAMORY WEEK ON TUMBLR, but it's finally here! My working schedule took away my Sunday from me, boooo. I didn't feel like posting this fic super late in the day. I really hope everyone reading enjoyed this, and any comments/thoughts are so appreciated! :)