By Raythe Reign
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
PAIRING: Luke x Vader
NOTES: For those of you who are familiar with it Forbidden is a huge epic monster that has not been updated in quite some time at . As some of you know, I came down with cancer and retreated from writing for some time, but now I'm back and with a vengeance. I have decided to post what I can here at , editing and updating the piece as I go.
In addition to updating (and completing) Forbidden and other works, I have opened a subscription website for my original work .com. I hope you enjoy this chapter of Forbidden and I hope that you go and check out the site as well.
Please let me know what you think! Reviews are my life's blood!
CHAPTER ONE: BURNING
Luke shifted in sleep, his feet tangling in the thin sheets, his hands fisting in the comforter as he was drawn into a familiar dream. He dreamt of a lover, a man whose features he had never seen with his physical eyes, but whose face and body were imprinted in him so deeply that they were a part of his very essence.
In the dream, Luke was sitting on a beach, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. It was sunset, but the dying of the light did not hold his gaze; all Luke's attention was fixed on his lover instead.
His lover was a youth, perhaps in his twenties, a few years older than Luke himself. He stood before Luke half-clothed and completely unashamed. His muscled golden chest was bare. He wore only a pair of light tan pants that hung low on his hips, clung to his muscled thighs, and stopped just above his elegant bare feet.
The raging sea was at the older youth's back. The rush of the water stirred his long honey-colored hair that flowed down to his shoulders in thick waves. His eyes were arresting in the deepening twilight as they glowed yellow-gold under his arched brows. They pierced Luke's body as easily as a light saber could slice through cloth.
Then there were his lips. They were lush, shaped like a cupid's bow. They switched easily between a pout and a scowl, but they were tugged into a small smile at that moment.
In a quick fluid movement, he lowered himself to his haunches before Luke. He reached out a strong hand to grasp one of Luke's forearms. His touch burned.
"Luke, what are you thinking about?" His voice was low and smoky.
"You. I'm thinking of you. As if you don't already know," Luke said and felt a smile curl the corners of his own mouth. "And what are you thinking about?"
His lover's smile quirked larger, "You. After all there is nothing more important to me than you."
Luke's heart beat harder in his dream, heat flared in his groin and raced through his body more potent than any drug, more potent than the Force itself. He leaned forward then, his head slightly tilted to the side, and he brushed those full soft lips against Luke's own. Luke moaned, the sound coming from the back of his throat. His lover's warm pink tongue traced the line of Luke's jaw as the younger man arched into that touch.
His lover's voice was quiet, but filled with throaty promise as he spoke into Luke's left ear, "So responsive, child of my heart."
Luke's voice was equally soft, but it seemed to block out the sound of the rushing waves, the sound of his own breath and heartbeat, as he said, "Only for you, Father."
Luke woke sweat-drenched as he always did from this dream. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of his chest. He ran his hand through his sleep-mussed hair, thrusting the shaggy blonde locks from his eyes and ripped the sweat soaked sheets from his body.
Luke told himself that the scent of musk in the air from his release was disgusting, but he took deep breaths of it anyways. He used a corner of one to clean the semen from his bare stomach and penis. His sex ached from the touch and Luke flushed at his weakness. He flung the sheet from him so he wouldn't be tempted to touch himself to hardness again with the memory of the dream.
'What would Vader say if he knew of this dream?' Luke wondered, despair bubbling up inside of him. 'But my – my lover in the dream – he's young and beautiful and whole. I know that Vader is none of those things. At least not anymore. He can't be the man in my dream.'
Yet Luke wanted his lover to be Vader. And that was the horror and the thrill of it.
He was loath to admit, too, that the way Vader looked with his black suit, mask and flowing cloak was as seductive to him as the clean-limbed youth that haunted his dreams.
'What is wrong with me that I feel this way? How can I feel this way about a man who took my hand and tortured my friends?
He padded naked to the viewport in his room so he could stare at the black emptiness of space. He traced a path between two stars with his fingertips, wondering if there were any people in between those suns, protected from the vastness of space by durasteel and plastiglass. He snorted.
'I think this because Darth Vader could be one of those people. He is the only one I long to see.'
Luke clenched his right hand into a fist and winced. His prosthetic hand ached even though countless checks by him and the droids showed nothing wrong with it. He was assured that it was phantom pain, crossed signals in his brain that still registered his flesh and blood hand even though it was long gone, rotting or more likely incinerated on Bespin.
Some part of Luke wondered if the hand had continued to clutch onto his father's light saber as it fell to the gas planet below Cloud City, but another part of him found the thought too nauseous to contemplate. He had lost more than just his hand in Lando's city, he had lost some part of his innocence.
'But then again what kind of innocent could I have been when I had dreams of lust for my father and those started long before Bespin, they started before I ever left Tatooine.' Luke shivered and held his arms around himself thinking of the one other person who had any idea of Luke's wanton thoughts. 'Uncle Owen.'
How well Luke remembered the tightening of Uncle Owen's heavily-stubbled jaw as he read the datapad that Luke had copied down his dreams in. Both the innocent adventuring about the galaxy with his beloved father ones then -- then the others. Innocent could in no way describe those.
Luke had known two burnings in his life: the one that had incinerated the Lars and their homestead and the earlier one, the one he always thought of with a capital 'B.' Even though the second burning had killed his guardians and the life he had known, the first Burning resonated far more deeply to his shame, like an abscess in his soul. That Burning had nearly killed him. He had survived.
'And I didn't dream of my father again until now,' Luke realized.
Indeed the dream and the longing were back greater than before and what terrified Luke was that he knew with just a call of his mind his father would come to him. Gooseflesh suddenly covered Luke's arms.
'How desperate is my father to have me help him overthrow the Emperor and rule the galaxy? Would he offer me my most forbidden desire ... himself?'
Luke dropped to the floor into a lotus position, rested his arms palms upwards on his thighs and began counting his inhales and exhales. Hopefully meditation would allow him to let go of these evil thoughts, let go of temptation. There was goodness in Vader. Luke had sensed it. He would seek to bring his father back from the darkness. Luke's own foul desires would hopefully be burned away in the process. He would never give into them. Never expose his father to his wrongness. Vader had enough darkness in his life.
Just as meditation began to take him to calmness. Luke recognized a familiar red warmth in his thoughts, a warmth he realized had been there as he woke up and possibly even as he slept. Luke understood then that his mind was open to the bond he shared with his father.
'Oh, Force, did he experience the dream, too? Does he know my wrong feelings for him?'