Beautiful Like the Sun

Author's Note: Just a little something inspired by to the sky without wings by leupagus, which has taken up residence in my heart. Specifically this bit from Chapter 6:

Poe refrains from stating the obvious, too drunk on brandy and hot chocolate and Jess's terrible liquor and the idea that Luke wanted him before, wants him now and is afraid for his own self-control in the face of it. "So tell me," he says instead. "When did this start? Please tell me it was when I snuck into your room on my sixteenth birthday."
"No," Luke disagrees, sounding so disgusted that Poe frowns in mock outrage. "It was… after that. When you fought off that assassin, saved my life. I thought I'd never seen anyone look so…"
"Beautiful," Poe supplies. "You said I was beautiful."
Luke strokes a finger down his cheek, cold metal that Poe doesn't mind at all. "You were. You are."

The first thought Luke had as he pulled in a ragged breath that burned all the way down to his lungs wasn't That was close! or Force, this hurts!. No, instead of these entirely reasonable reactions to almost being strangled to death by a wookie, all he could think was that, if he hadn't already been struggling to breathe, Poe Dameron would have taken his breath away.

Poe had always been a bright presence in Luke's life, ever since he met the little boy perched in his tree, and in the past few years it had pained Luke to continually having to rebuff the young man's romantic advances. Because that was what he was now, a man and no longer a boy, even if Luke could still see the child in the unguarded way with which Poe's attention fixed on him whenever he was near, and Luke had never been more fucked than lying on the ground watching Poe save his life without sparing a thought for his own. With the last of his strength Luke struck out with the Force and at least managed to bring the wookie to his knees.

It only got worse once Poe was by his side, his touch gentle, his eyes burning with worry and emotions much deeper than the childish infatuation Luke had tried to label them. The pain was still fierce, making it hard to focus, either to call on the Force or to re-establish boundaries that had suddenly come crashing down. Luke didn't even have the strength to feel dismay when his own treacherous voice asked for Poe after the healers had done their best for him.

He was sore, and tired, and he wanted nothing more than to have Poe's warm light by his side. He didn't mean to reach out and actually touch, but once he did, it was impossible to stop. Poe's skin was warm and soft, and Luke could feel his pulse jump, his breath stutter against his fingers as he traced Poe's jaw, his cheek and finally his lips.

Later, he would wish that he didn't remember what he said, but right then his whole world narrowed down to the two of them and Luke wanted nothing more than to keep Poe close, always, to explore that soft skin, see if he reacted so strongly when touched in other places... Luckily, sleep claimed him before he could do more than mildly embarrass himself. At least that was what Luke told himself the next morning, when he woke with a much clearer head.

However, one look at Poe's sleepy-eyed smile, and the pang of longing it sent through Luke's entire body made it painfully obvious that this problem wouldn't go away with the pain. There was no way for Luke to unsee what he had seen, and all that remained was for him to do his best to ignore the bright heat that washed through him whenever his thoughts strayed to Poe. He gathered all his not inconsiderable self-control and turned the feeling into a tight ball that he could store away somewhere safe.

It remained there, though, bright and hot, and looking into Poe's twinkling eyes that seemed to easily penetrate his defenses, Luke realized that, although he knew it would bring him nothing but trouble, he didn't actually want it gone. Instead he tucked it away safely in the recesses of his mind, where it hung like a small sun, warming him all the way through.

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