A Dirty Secret
Warm, so warm… Corran thought, his breathing laboured. He gasped as his fingers slipped over the roughness in his hands, grabbing the object tighter, lest he loose his grip. Faster now, harder…his eyes closed and he lost himself in the vigorous pumping motion of his hand. He grabbed a piece of cloth with his spare hand and deftly transferred it to the one currently occupied with moving up and down the slightly ribbed shaft before him. Oh yes, that’s it…who loves ya, baby? He grinned wickedly, I do, you know I do.
He grunted as he let the cloth slide of the head of the shaft and then back down to the base. He slowed his rhythm, drawing out the sensations coursing through him. He reached out with the force and became one with the now warm, slick ‘equipment’. Just like old times, huh, sweetheart? Just the two of us, alone, in the dark…
Suddenly, the glare of lights assailed Corran’s closed eyelids and his eyes shot open. His eyes registered first his X-wing in the middle of the hanger and then his compromising position. He looked around the hanger and barely registered the person moving towards him. Frantically, he tried to get a few more discreet pumps in before he was horribly exposed. His foggy mind scarcely noticed the person climb up the stairs next to his X-wing.
Sithspit! It’s Wedge! Oh why oh why did it have to be Wedge???
"Corran!" The elder Rogue yelled. "You can let go of your stick now. I think you’ve polished it enough."
Corran looked down at the hand that still gripped his flight stick. Sheepishly, he let go and let the cleaning rag fall to the floor of his X-wing. Wedge helped him out of his craft and then led him from the hanger.
"Honestly Horn, you really should see someone about that compulsive cleaning habit you have. Especially when it comes to your X-wing!"
Wedge hit the light panel and door panel respectively and the hanger doors closed behind them, leaving Corran’s spit-polished X-wing in the darkness.
Naughty, naughty! What did -you- think I was talking about???
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