DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
"You think you can get away with that?" Madine said through gritted teeth.
_Get away with what?_ Some rational fragment of Han's mind wondered. Instead he sneered and said, "Who's gonna stop me?"
Han wasn't sure who threw the first punch, but suddenly they were rolling on the deck, trying to kill each other. Han knew now for certain that something was wrong with him. His reflexes were slow and he didn't seem to have much strength; fortunately, Madine wasn't in any better shape. Then the general broke a hold that should have ended the fight right there and suddenly Han was on his back, his shoulders pinned.
Madine was looking down at him, bleeding from a split lip and panting from exertion. Han realized he didn't remember throwing that punch, though it must have been only seconds ago. He also didn't remember why they were fighting. He took a breath to point that out, then suddenly Madine's mouth was pressed against his, warm and hard, roughly forcing his lips apart.
Han tasted the other man's blood and sweat, and for a long moment his body wouldn't obey his orders to do anything. He realized Madine had forced a knee between his legs and that should have infuriated him, but instead Han felt a wave of heat that swept up his body and washed out any protest his mind was still making.
Han realized his arms had been free for some moments, and dug his fingers into Madine's shoulders, but instead of pushing him away he shifted his weight and rolled.
Madine gasped when his back hit the deck and Han's weight came down on top of him, but killing him was not exactly what Han had in mind at the moment. They were fighting over something different now. But Madine's reactions were still quicker. He struggled determinedly, then broke the hold again and wound both hands in Han's hair, pulling him down. Making a desperate noise in his throat he found Han's mouth again, deepening the kiss until their teeth scraped. Han wrenched his head away again but Madine kept his grip on Han's hair and found his ear with his tongue, probing deeply, then tugging on the lobe with his teeth. Then his hands moved up Han's back, sliding his shirt up, then down to knead his buttocks, and he was pushing a knee up between his thighs to put a steady, grinding pressure on his groin.
Han lost what little control over the situation he had gained then; he was making involuntary noises that had nothing to do with protest and could barely keep himself braced on his forearms. _Oh, what the hell,_ he thought. He twisted his head down and bit the other man in the neck, though the growl in his throat had more to do with arousal than anger.
Han let Madine roll him over, didn't protest when he felt him tearing at the fastenings of his clothing. They were both drenched in sweat and Han's skin was so hot the deckplates felt freezing cold against his back where his shirt had been pushed up. The shock of that contact gave him a moment of clarity. He wasn't sure why this was happening but he knew where it was going to end, and the last time he had done it had been years ago and under the influence of six bottles of spiced brandy, and he had very little memory of it. But he was too drunk or crazy or something to get on top and too overcome by need to stop it. Then Madine lowered his head again, lips burning against Han's neck and collarbone, then his chest and stomach as he moved lower down, and the moment of clarity was over.
Han felt Madine's mouth on his inner thigh and his fingers dig into his hips, and had time for the thought _the problem is I don't think I believe this is really happening._ Then he was arching his back and cursing, grabbing the support bar for the workbench over his head in pure reflex, overwhelmed by sensation as a warm mouth covered him.
Madine stopped way too soon, suddenly pulling away and sitting up. Furious, Han couldn't get his breath for a moment, then managed to gasp out a deadly insult in Corellian, which translated roughly into standard as "You bastard who would have fathered yourself on your own mother if you'd had half a chance."
Snarling, Madine shoved him down and fell forward on top of him, and Han braced himself. Breathing hard, obviously ready, Madine did -- nothing.
"What?" Han demanded, his voice so hoarse he hardly recognized it.
Madine shook his head, sitting up and bracing himself on his arms. "I can't-- I'm not going to--" His breathing was so ragged he could barely get the words out.
It didn't matter; Han was so far gone he couldn't understand what the man on top of him was saying. The only request for clarification he could manage was "Huh?"
Madine swore in frustration. "Do you have a medkit?"
Fortunately, the location of everything onboard the Falcon was as good as hardwired into Han's brain. Without having to think, he waved a hand vaguely over his head to indicate one of the storage lockers in the bulkhead behind the workbench, where one of the spare emergency kits was kept. With a gasp of relief, Madine staggered to his feet, reaching the indicated cabinet and tearing it open. Han saw about half the contents hit the deck before Madine evidently found what he needed.
The interval lasted just long enough for Han to become completely infuriated. He didn't know why they were doing this or what the hell was going on, but he didn't intend to put up with it too much longer; if Madine delayed any further somebody was going to get hurt. He leaned back, hooked Madine around the ankle with one leg and yanked. Madine sat down hard, cursing, then they were grappling and rolling around on the deck again.
Han finally decided Madine had fought hard enough to show proper appreciation for what he was about to get, and let himself be pushed down onto his back again. There was a frantic struggle to tear clothing open, then Madine reached down between Han's legs again.
Han cursed and grabbed double-handfuls of Madine's jacket and shirt as a finger slipped inside him, but it was a well- lubricated finger. He belatedly realized what Madine had wanted out of the medical kit. Madine seemed to find the right spot unerringly, and Han caught his breath, closed his eyes, and thrust up against his hand. _I think he's done this before._ A second finger joined the first, but it wasn't enough. He normally liked subtleties, liked a long slow build, but right now that wasn't what he wanted. Through gritted teeth Han growled, "Come on, dammit."
Madine snarled something incoherent back, but he gripped Han under the knees and pulled him forward. Han felt the first pressure and gripped the support bar of the bench over his head, bracing himself. Madine pushed forward and Han arched his back and shouted wordlessly as he was entered. The sensation was intense, more than Han had expected, reminding him that he was as good as a virgin at this. But the discomfort was buried in a sudden wave of hot, blinding pleasure. Only partially inside him, Madine hesitated. _Dammit,_ Han wanted to scream from frustration. _Do I have to do everything?_ He took a firmer grip on the bar and thrust back, catching Madine by surprise.
Madine partially withdrew and thrust in again, all the way in, hard, and Han pushed up to meet him. _Oh, yeah, that's it,_ Han thought as the pressure started to build. Madine pressed into him more deeply, more roughly and Han flung his head back and closed his eyes. _Right there._ Madine kept thrusting until Han was so far gone he lacked even the coordination to thrust back. All he could do was writhe helplessly, biting his lip until he tasted blood. One last deep thrust and Han cried out as the release took him, washing over him in a hot wave and taking his consciousness with it.
Madine came back to his senses slowly. He knew he had been unconscious for some time, and he knew he was lying on a warm, yielding body that was bonelessly relaxed, all the usual tightly coiled tension driven out of it. He lifted his head, saw that Han's eyes were closed, sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, and his breathing was even and deep. Madine realized he was still partly inside him, and shifted his weight back, carefully withdrawing. Han made a noise in his throat, and turned his head a little, but didn't wake.
_Oh, shit,_ Madine thought. _Just...Oh, shit._ He sat up, still dazed. They had obviously been drugged in the bar. Now that his head was clearing he could recognize the symptoms. The heat he had felt despite the cool Kskannit night, the increasing disorientation, the anger coming out of nowhere, unfocused and wild, out of all proportion even to his normal hostility to Solo. Madine grimaced. And the increasing stupidity of their argument. Stupid and ironic, considering his current position.
Looking worriedly down at Han, Madine pulled his pants back up, fumbling to get them to stay that way since he had broken half the fastenings when he had ripped them open. He touched Han's face, then felt for a pulse. The other man's skin still felt feverish, but his breathing was normal and relaxed and his heartbeat strong and even. Madine remembered Han had had at least two drinks to his one, and both must have been spiked; he probably just needed to sleep it off.
He pulled Han up, dragging one arm across his shoulders, and managed to get him across the lounge and down the short companionway to his cabin. Once there he lowered him to the bunk, then reached for the cover tangled at the foot to pull it up over him. And found himself hesitating.
He hadn't had much of a chance to look at the body he had just experienced; things had gone too quickly and he hadn't been in any state close enough to his right mind for careful observation.
Sprawled on the bunk, Solo looked younger than usual, though Madine had always thought them to be about the same age. The cabin lights gleamed on sweat-slickened skin, drew red highlights out of the thick tousled hair. Solo's body was all lean hard muscle, his stomach flat and tight. As soon as he had entered him Madine had known that Han hadn't been with any men, not like this, at least not recently; the expression on his face had told Madine that. In the heat of the moment that had only heightened the experience.
Madine remembered suddenly that he had at least had the sense to stop and use a lubricant, and felt a rush of relief. That must have been the only thing close to a rational thought to cross his mind during the whole episode.
But with the dregs of the drug still clouding his memory, he couldn't remember if he had taken Solo considerately or if he had shoved into him like a drunken spacer mounting a port prostitute. He could remember Han writhing and crying out raggedly, remember digging his fingers into the muscular buttocks and thrusting hard, again and again.
Madine shook himself and pulled the blanket over Solo. Without waking, Han promptly kicked it off and rolled over on his stomach.
Madine cursed under his breath and fled the cabin.
Out in the lounge area he paced, trying to clear his head. He had to clarify how much of this had been his own doing, how much had been the drug.
He remembered the fight that had started things clearly enough. Traditional Corellian culture held that male to male sex was supposed to be somewhat rough, though Madine had always preferred the playful variety to mock violence. In an even contest of unarmed combat against Solo, Madine knew he wouldn't have been able to win, but Han had gotten a double dose of the drug; it had confused him, slowed his reactions. _Made him vulnerable,_ Madine thought. _All right, if he had twice as much of the drug as you, why did you initiate it?_ he asked himself.
It didn't take a great deal of observation to see that Han was primarily interested in women. Madine had always been more attracted to men; of course, it had been so long since he had been with anybody that he was surprised he had still remembered how to do it at all. _You initiated it because you haven't had sex for years, that's why you initiated it,_ a little ironic voice in his head pointed out, _not since you had a life, before you joined the Alliance._ No, this would never have happened if not for the drug, but it would also never have happened had Madine not completely lost control.
And it was painful to admit it but he had always found Solo physically attractive, no matter how repellent he thought his personality. He had become painfully aware of that once when he had walked into a repair bay on the Tantavie, and there was Solo, bent almost double over a dismantled console, fishing for something deep inside it with one hand on the bulkhead in front of him to steady himself. Madine had had to turn and walk out of the compartment, and been greatly disgusted with himself when the episode had figured largely in his thoughts when he had been trying to get some sleep on the next offshift.
Madine shook his head. He had enjoyed what had happened, there was no escaping that. And he also had to admit that under the influence of the drug he wouldn't have minded much if the initial battle had gone the other way, and he had been the one to end up on his back on the deck. He just wished to hell he knew if Solo had minded it or not... If he had wanted it at all.
But despite the mental haze, Madine couldn't remember wanting to hurt Solo, just to have him, as thoroughly and completely as possible. What he was really afraid of was that he had imagined Solo's responses and interpreted real attempts to get away as encouragement. That the other man had simply been too weakened and overcome by the drug to fight him off.
_If that was the case..._ Madine thought grimly, _Then he's going to kill me. And in all fairness, I'll just have to let him._
Han woke slowly, gradually becoming aware that he lay sprawled face down, his head pillowed on his arms, on his own bunk. His thoughts were oddly hazy and distant, and memory of the immediate past was elusive. There was a pain between his eyes, and a more pleasant ache somewhere else. _Uh-oh,_ Han thought, suddenly much more alert. _What did you do?_ Oh, he knew what he had done all right, he just couldn't think who with. _Dammit, this is why you don't get drunk, Solo._ Except he hadn't been drinking, not seriously... He rolled over and stretched, easing the kinks out of his back and trying to concentrate.
Abruptly the haze cleared.
Han sat bolt upright, slammed his head on a low-hanging stanchion, and swore loudly. Still cursing, he rolled off the bunk and tore what was left of his shirt off and threw it against the wall. Then he remembered the Falcon would be picking up Leia, Chewie, and the others at Kskannit FirstDome this morning, and they would all be wandering in and out of his cabin like it was a public transport lounge. He grabbed the shirt and stuffed it into the bottom of a locker. Then he looked at the chrono. He had a launch window scheduled for just under a standard hour.
This time directing his imprecations toward the Kskannit Port Authority instead of himself Han dug out clean clothes and headed for the shower. Standing under the stream of stale recycled water, the events of last night started coming back to him in increasingly appalling detail.
He could remember the strange character reality had assumed on the walk back to the ship, the disorientation, the rise in body temperature. _That little shit Rathian hired somebody in the bar to put something in the drinks, obviously._ Something that hadn't exactly meshed well with Corellian biochemistry. Or Corellian culture. Maybe the Rathian just hadn't known that a loud violent argument was still considered an extremely erotic form of foreplay in some of the more primitive areas of the homeworld. _Dammit, I can't believe I did that. If it had been anybody, and I mean anybody, else... In any other position... And I can't believe I liked it so much._ The drug had heightened his reaction to everything, making the stimulation almost unbearable.
At least he remembered liking it this time. The last time he didn't remember it at all, to the point where he wasn't even sure it had actually happened. It had been during one hell of a party on a Corellian pirate ship, and Han had had such a hangover afterward that he hadn't come out of it for three ship-standard days, and all physical evidence had faded by that point. He only had Bran's word for it that Bran had thrown him down on the galley table and that Han had tried to bite his ear off. Considering what they had been drinking, Bran might just have hallucinated the whole thing.
He wouldn't have liked this time as much if Madine hadn't stopped to look in the medkit. Han had known the standard kits contained a tube of the stuff you were supposed to use to make the internal plumbing arrangements of pressurized flight suits more friendly when they interfaced with your own equipment, and which everyone knew had a variety of other handy uses, but he hadn't thought of it himself. He hadn't been thinking, period. He wished he could stop thinking now. He had to get the ship ready, break atmosphere, figure a course around the system that would let him approach Kskannit from a completely different trajectory while he changed the ship's ID beacon from the Dagram Company's Skyhawk to Ascalon Trading's whatever, he couldn't even remember the registry he had picked out. Then land at FirstDome, rendezvous with Leia and Chewie and the others, meet the fucking Kskannit World Family, and try to pretend like nothing had happened. Han resisted the urge to beat his head against the bulkhead, but just barely.
Madine was standing near the tech station when Han came into the lounge area. Before he could say anything, Han snapped, "Don't talk to me."
Madine ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He hadn't been able to sleep. He had showered in the Falcon's primitive bathing facility, changed clothes and stuffed the ones he had been wearing into the bottom of his duffle bag, feeling glad his spare shirt had a high enough collar to hide the bite marks on his neck. Then he had cleaned up the mess on and around the engineering station and spent some time running their symptoms through the only onboard computer that he could convince to talk to him, trying to identify the drug that had been used on them. The only thing he had been able to ascertain for certain was that it wasn't a type of spice; he was beginning to think it was probably a synthetic meant for some other purpose entirely, and they would just have to wait for the meddroids on the Tantavie to do a blood screening to find out what it was.
Since Madine had heard the old ship's water purification system rumbling again, accompanied by muted thumps and swearing, he had known Han was awake. It had been one small mercy, at least. He knew they had an early takeoff scheduled and he hadn't been looking forward to having to go in there and wake him. He said, "We have to talk about this."
Han paused at the tech station, keyed a command into one of the comps that had appeared to Madine to be completely nonfunctional, and all the boards on the station came to life. He snorted derisively and said, "No, that's how we got into this. Or how you got into me."
Madine winced. _Blunt but true._ He noticed Solo's hair was still damp from the shower and then had to firmly squelch the thought that triggered. The fact that Solo was fully dressed and wearing his gunbelt didn't seem to be hampering Madine's imagination any. Determinedly, he said, "We were drugged."
Han stopped to stare at him. "No, really? You think?"
Ignoring the heavy sarcasm, Madine continued, "We were probably supposed to kill each other but--"
"But it wasn't correctly tailored to Corellian metabolism. Yeah, I got that." Han crossed the lounge to look around the corner at the engineering station. He saw it had been cleaned up, the scattered contents of the medkit put away. He glanced back at Madine, brows lifting ironically. "Got rid of the evidence already, did you?"
Madine gritted his teeth and didn't comment. The memory of all that lean hard muscle under his hands, first through tight fabric and then only hot bare skin, was too close to the surface for comfort. He kept thinking of things he hadn't had a chance to do.... And he couldn't quite make himself ask the question he really wanted the answer to. Knowing he was stalling, he said, "I also sent a coded comcall to the Princess at Kskannit FirstDome--"
Han turned on his heel, slowly, and stared at him. "What did you tell her?"
"That the Rathians tried to kill us," Madine snapped. "That they probably mean to make their deal with Ascalon instead, that she'll have to adjust her strategy accordingly."
"Oh." Han looked away, then rubbed his forehead and winced.
Madine noted that as a confirmation they were both still having the same reactions to the drug; he had had a headache for most of the night, too. Then he realized Han might be experiencing pain in a different area entirely, and it was his turn to look away. He needed to find out just exactly what it was he had done last night, or the guilt was going to drive him insane. But he hesitated. There was a more clear-cut issue they needed to get settled, first. It might be the coward's way out, but.... "I don't think we need to mention what happened to anyone."
"No kidding," Han muttered. He and Madine had never tried to hide their mutual hostility. If this got out, it would be the biggest joke in the rebel fleet. He supposed Madine knew that as well as he did.
"We can say we had a run-in with some downport thugs," Madine offered cautiously. They both certainly had enough bruises to account for it. He was again glad his shirt hid what were obviously human bite marks. He imagined himself trying to explain that to General Rieekan, who was too perceptive by far, and inwardly shuddered.
Han rolled his eyes, trying to remember the last time he had heard the kind of semi-sentient predators that haunted downports referred to as "thugs." "Yeah, fine, whatever." He let out his breath. Madine didn't appear to be about to say or do anything that Han would feel obligated to kill him for, and he wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved. Explaining away Madine's sudden demise convincingly to Leia when he got to Kskannit FirstDome would have been difficult at best, anyway. Also for some bizarre reason she seemed to actually like the stiff-necked bastard, and after everything else she had been through Han felt reluctant to deprive her of any friends.
Resigned to the general's continued existence, Han started across the lounge toward the cockpit and caught Madine glancing surreptitiously at him, so he immediately developed a limp. Madine looked away, his back stiffening in angry embarrassment. Han thought about retaining the limp for the rest of the day, maybe leaning on Chewie occasionally for support once they got to FirstDome, but decided he didn't have the energy to keep it up. And Leia would just keep demanding to know what was wrong with him. He paused at the entrance to the gunwell, knowing suddenly how to get Madine to leave him the hell alone so he could start his preflight in peace. He turned, leaned back against the bulkhead and folded his arms, and said conversationally, "So. How was I?"
Madine cursed and turned to leave, but stopped in the opening to the companionway. _Don't be a bloody coward,_ he thought. He turned back deliberately. "Solo."
Han pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache, a hangover reaction to the drug, was considerably worse. "What?"
"I want to ask you something."
Han looked at him, eyes narrowing. _Of course you do, you bastard._ "No, you didn't catch anything from me, I'm clean." Not that Madine was likely to take his word for it. "I had a screening on the Tantavie, you can check my med records when--"
"That's not it." Madine took a deep breath. "What happened last night..." There wasn't going to be any easy way to say it. "Did I rape you?"
"Huh?"
"You heard me." It had been difficult enough to get the words out the first time, Madine wasn't going to repeat them.
Han pressed one hand against the bulkhead, to remind himself how solid it was and how he really didn't want to try to put his fist through it. He looked up at the conduits overhead, then down at the scuffed deckplates. "You think--" He had to pause for a moment to get the self-control to continue in a reasonably level voice. "You think you could-- I ought to--" He was so angry his vocal cords were locking up. "You stupid bastard," he finally managed.
Madine looked torn between anger and confusion. "Well, did I?"
Han realized he would have to clarify the point. He took long strides to the engineering station and leaned down to jerk a small square case out from under the edge of the workbench. He tossed it to Madine.
Startled, the general caught it awkwardly. It was a vibroblade. An old model, but in excellent condition. It had been easily within Solo's reach the entire time they had been under the workbench.
His voice tight with suppressed fury, Han said, "I got holdout weapons all over this ship. If you'd tried to rape me, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now, I'd be looking for someplace to dump the body. Now get the hell out of my face so I can do my preflight."
Madine decided a strategic withdrawal at this point was the best course. He set the vibroblade down on the nearest console and went down the companionway. Once out of sight, he stopped and ran his hands through his hair, sighing with relief. He was glad he could remember it without guilt, now. _Because the gods know you needed it,_ he thought wryly. In a few years, if he managed to avoid Imperial justice and live so long, this would probably be funny. It was a little funny now. He chuckled softly to himself.
Han slammed around the corner of the companionway suddenly and said, with dangerous lightness and an expression that was close to feral, "What's funny?"
"Nothing," Madine snarled, straightening his shoulders and standing stiffly. "I was coughing." Apparently numbered among Han's other annoying qualities was incredibly acute hearing.
Han eyed him for a long moment, then evidently decided reluctantly that it wasn't worth spacing him over. Still in that voice that few beings had probably lived to remember later, he said, "No more coughing, and the next few hours will go much more smoothly," and vanished back around the corner.
Madine let out his breath and smiled. Treading carefully for the next few hours wasn't such a big price to pay, after all.
Part 1 Part 2