Love, for a Gay TIE Fighter Pilot

This story is based around a TIE fighter pilot from Star Wars. I have tried to keep the nerdiness to a minimum and you don't have to like - or even know - anything about Star Wars to enjoy it. I hope!

This story contains gay sex, although not a great deal of it, I must admit. It also doesn't really have a happy ending.

If you want a quick stroke story, or one with oodles of sex in it or, at least, a beautiful love story where the protagonists live happily ever after, I recommend you click off this story and look elsewhere and I thank you for your time.

And so, with that over:

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

* * * * *

I'm going to die.

The realisation first hit me like a turbolaser blast, almost making me cry. Not that crying was going to do anything; just waste more precious oxygen and speed up my impending end.

That was earlier. Before I accepted what was coming.

It's a strange thing about dying - especially when you know it's coming. We're all going to die, of course. Some species in the galaxy have lifetimes a dozen times longer than humans, maybe more. But death comes to us all in the end.

You do everything you can to avoid it. Do the right things. Exercise in the right way. Eat all the right foods. Sleep well. Don't play with the traffic in the hyperspace lanes. But in the end, you will cease to be and there isn't a damned thing you can do about it.

And, when you accept that your death is not only inevitable, but imminent, it does strange things to your mind. There's the initial denial, of course, followed by anger and grief and sadness. But, ultimately, you come to a kind of peace with it.

Which is where I am now. I am going to die. And there is fuck all I can do about it.

At least I'll die where I'm happiest; in the cockpit of my TIE/In Space Superiority Starfighter (ooh, fancy!)

It's a bullshit name, of course. Don't get me wrong; the TIE is superior to most ships that the so-called Rebel Alliance have got, even those damned X-wings. But it's built from parts discarded as being unusable in a half-decent ship and is - basically - a flying death trap.

With no shields, wings as flimsy as cardboard and a power system that has a tendency to overload and explode if you push it even a little too much, it's cheap for a reason. But that's why the Empire love them. A decent factory can push out TIE's at a rate of a dozen an hour; each one a little ball of flying death. And, cheap and flimsy and poorly put together as it is, I love it too.

I've flown this particular TIE for over a year now and it is as familiar to me as my own body. Some pilots like to modify their ships and spend hours when they're not on duty tweaking this and that and tinkering with things best left alone.

Many of those pilots are dead. A tweak done badly can fail at the worst moment and, before you know it, your stabiliser has folded like a paper cup and you're spinning out of control into the nearest piece of debris; ending your life in a pretty little fireball.

Or they get shoved into a stock fighter for some reason, forget, push the controls that little too far and die not even knowing what went wrong because the new Ion control unit they've installed in their other fighter is much newer than the cast-off piece of shit in this one and it gives out, short-circuiting the power modulator and sending it into an acceleration loop until the engines blow themselves up in a much prettier little fireball.

I've not changed my fighter at all and, only now - at the end - do I regret that decision. TIE interiors are boring as hell. Compact. Functional. About as exciting as having a tooth extracted. And dull, dull, dull.

No. I won't look at that. Look forwards. That was always the best bit. Seeing the blanket of white stars on the velvety blackness of space. Space is beautiful, really. And as a last view? Well, there are a lot worse!

* * * * *

I joined the Imperial Training Centre on Carida when I turned thirteen. My name is Maraz Jaxxon and I had grown up on Chandrilla, the son of a minor noble who made his money in wine and spent his money on women. My mother had died when I was still a tiny child; I have few memories of her. She seemed happy enough although, learning as I did how my father was a womanising arsehole I wonder whether this was an act.

I didn't get the chance to ask her. She was killed in a "speeder accident"; an explanation I accepted until I was about fifteen when I came to the realisation that if my father hadn't actually killed my mother he had had more to do with it than the official story told.

By this time, I was well on my way to joining the Imperial Navy and was on a path that would lead me to being some kind of bridge officer; probably a navigator - my skills lent themselves to that sort of position. I dismissed my father's poor attempt to get in touch with me and threw myself into my studies. I excelled and I heard that I was soon to be pressed into the Officer Training Program in a new facility run by the Kuat Drive Yards where the best of the best learned all there was to know about how to run a Star Destroyer.

But I wanted to fly. Ever since I had seen a squadron of TIE's go over a passing-out parade on Carida a few months after I arrived, I had been obsessed with them. Through sheer persistence - and the fact that a number of promising candidates had betrayed the Empire and fled to the Rebel Alliance - I got my chance to take part in TIE simulation exercises just before my sixteenth birthday.

I had natural skill and decent reflexes and I was soon at the top of my class. I would soon be given the chance to take control of my own fighter; I was just a step away from my dream.

And then that stupid bitch, Mon Mothma, almost fucking ruined it for me. She want all crazy and started making a whole raft of unfounded allegations against our beloved Emperor. She even blamed him for a riot on the planet of Ghorman, completely ignoring the rioters and blaming the Imperial security forces for being forced to put it down.

And then she gave that speech - you know the one - where she declared herself as being against the Empire. Some say that was the start of the Rebel Alliance. I don't know. Maybe they're right. All I know is that, as a Chandrillan, I was regarded as guilty by association.

I was dragged out of my bunk in the middle of the night and taken to an interrogation suite. Over hours and hours I was asked questions about my loyalty to the Empire and what I thought of Mon Mothma and how likely I was to run away and join the Rebellion.

But my faith in the Emperor has never wavered and my loyalty to him knows no bounds and soon it became clear - even to my biggest detractors - that I was a true fanatic to the cause. I was released without charge and returned to my barracks. Several people from my planet were also released - many with warnings - and many more were never released at all. Traitors.

This incident didn't set me back too much and, only a few months later than I had hoped, I first stepped into my first TIE/In. It was like falling in love. I was smitten from the first. I took that ship on a test flight and it could not have gone better.

Within weeks I had undergone my own passing-out parade and was assigned to the Death's Head, the newest Star Destroyer in the fleet at the time, barracked up with many other pilots and, whilst I was still - technically - a trainee, I was welcomed on board by my colleagues and I have never looked back.

I finally threw away my trainee status within days of my arrival on the Death's Head when we were involved in a minor skirmish near Bimmisaari with a group of Rebel pilots in their Y-wings. TIE's are much quicker and have a much smaller turning circle than Y-wings, which are old and should be retired, but there were a large number of them.

I got my first kill when I dropped in behind one of the Y-wings and took out his starboard engine. Even though Y-wings have shields, they aren't designed to hold off the kind of battering my turbolasers were giving them and they flared out followed, moments later, by the engine. Moments after that, something went funny inside the Y-wing as various systems overloaded and it blew up right in front of me.

"Nice shooting, rookie," came a voice through my comlink. It belonged to my group leader, Group Commander, Corran Farr, a man whom I knew by name but nothing more. I had never met him face to face, only briefly in the hangar when he was already dressed in his flight suit with his helmet on.

"Thank you, sir," I responded and I intended to say more when another Y-wing appeared almost right in front of me, spinning to try and escape from a TIE fighter behind it. Instinctively, I pressed the firing button as I roared off behind this new target and, moments later, it too exploded.

"That was mine," came Farr's voice again.

"You snooze, you lose, sir," I responded with a typical Chandrillan retort.

"Whatever, rookie," Farr replied. "But when we get home, I'm claiming that one."

"Over my dead body, sir," I laughed back.

"That can be arranged," Farr said, but I could hear in his voice that he was only joking. At least, I hoped that was what I could hear!

The rest of the skirmish went about as well as could have been expected. The Y-wings may have outnumbered us, but we were faster, more manoeuvrable and had a greater determination to survive. The Emperor used to say that TIE pilots were so good because of the lack of shields on their ships meaning that we had to be braver. I don't know if that's true, since I've never flown a ship with shields, but whatever the reason, the entire group was destroyed for the loss of only two of our own.

I got another kill towards the end of the battle and returned home to the Death's Head as a hero and, more importantly, no longer considered as a rookie.

Once the Deck Officer had, finally, finished with our debriefing, we were released to the showers. All of us, that is, except for Commander Farr, who got called over to discuss some minor infringement or other or... I don't know. Whatever it was, I didn't care.

I went off to the showers and stripped down and got cleaned up. It doesn't matter what sex you are, all TIE pilots shower together and I have seen more tits and pussy and cocks than you've had hot dinners. It's odd but, when you're showering together, sex is the last thing on your mind. Or at least, it's the last thing on my mind. I just want to clean the grime and sweat off me.

The inside of a TIE fighter has no life support system (another expense the Empire can do without, thank you very much), so you have to wear a full flight suit or - frankly - you'll die. The upside of this is that the flight helmets have lots of useful information scrolling across in front of you on a see-through HUD that might, just, help keep you alive. The downside is that you sweat like a fucking Hutt in the midday suns on Tatooine and you fucking stink when you get out.

I finished the shower and began to towel off. I love the showers. I love the feeling of the water as it cascades down on me, tiny drops hitting my skin like a million tiny needles. I enjoy them so much that I always take too long in there, but I don't care. It's a rare moment of complete freedom that isn't ruined by the stench of my own sweat in my flight suit, so fucking sue me if I like to indulge every so often.

As usual I had been in the shower longer than anyone else and, not long after I got out of the showers the rest of my flight had exited the locker room. I finished with the towel and grabbed my boxer shorts from my locker. When on duty, you have to wear your flight suit, which is not pleasant after a few hours although at least, unlike a Stormtrooper, you don't have to wear your flight helmet unless you're actually in your TIE. But when off duty, you can wear simple, nondescript clothing that isn't technically allowed by regulation but since everyone does it, no-one says anything. I've seen everyone in skivvies - I even saw a Grand Admiral dressed in them once - so no-one is going to reprimand me.

As I finished pulling my shorts up, I heard a noise behind me, the unmistakeable sound of part of a flight suit hitting the ground. I spun around in surprise. I was the last one here! Who had made the sound?

Of course, it was Commander Farr. He had finally been released by the Deck Officer and had come to get changed. He had removed the top half of his flight suit (the helmets are thoroughly fumigated after use - you take those smelly things off the first chance you get!) and dropped it on the floor. Now, I saw his face for the first time.

He was beautiful. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. He had a beautiful, rounded face and a strong jaw and deep, blue eyes that you could stare at forever. Inside my stomach, my innards were doing somersaults.

"Nice job out there, rookie," Commander Farr said. "Of course, you're not a rookie any more. No-one who steals a kill from their commander is a rookie!" He grinned and my insides melted. I couldn't explain it - not then. I was a gibbering mess.

"Er... thank... thank you... er... sir... um," I babbled.

If Commander Farr was bothered by my apparent incoherent attitude, he didn't say show it. "You're welcome," he said and his voice was like butter. "But we can't keep calling you 'rookie' since, as I said, you're not one. Three kills wasn't it? Including the one you stole off me?"

I nodded. I was drowning in those blue eyes.

"So, we've got to call you something else. What'll it be?"

"Um," I stammered. "I... I've not really thought about it."

"Well, you've got to pick something, or your flight will do it for you and you really don't want that!" He smiled again. "My first flight gave me my flight nickname; Bubbles. All because I like a bit of milky foam in my caf. It took me a year of hard work and transferring to the Death's Head to finally get rid of it."

"A year?" I asked. Farr looked only a month or two older than me. Then I berated myself. He had to be a few years older than me, at least, in order to have reached the rank of Commander. Even in the TIE squadrons, where the average life expectancy for most pilots is about eleven months, you don't reach that kind of rank quickly.

"Give or take," Farr replied. "It's probably a bit closer to eighteen months. I've only been on the Death's Head for a month myself."

"I see," I said, although I didn't. "But..." I stopped myself, but it was too late.

"What? Go on."

"You look... young... sir," I finished, lamely.

Farr laughed. "I'm about three years older than you," he replied.

I stared at him. "How do you know how old..." I began before he interrupted me.

"I make it my mission to learn all about my flight," Farr said. "I know who you are, where you trained, what your test scores were and... other things."

"Other things?" I asked.

"About your... personal time. Your... preferences."

My heart sank. I had kept my... preferences... a secret, or so I had thought. I hadn't tried anything with anyone at the Training Facility. Whilst fraternising with your colleagues wasn't encouraged, it wasn't forbidden, either, and I'd seen a number of relationships begin, grow and (occasionally) die amongst my brethren, but I'd always done my best to avoid such... entaglements.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Farr said. "I've known a few pilots - more than a few, actually, who prefer the company of their own sex. Admittedly," he continued, "most of them were women. But I've known the odd guy, too."

I went into defensive mode. "No!" I cried out. "No. I'm just... shy. That's all."

Farr looked me in the eyes (oh, those eyes!). "If you say so," was all he said, but I could see he knew otherwise. "Still," he said, "come up with a nickname before someone else does."

"I'll think about it, sir," I said.

"Good," Farr said. Then he stripped the trousers of his flight suit off and turned back to face me.

Under a flight suit - or a Stormtrooper suit for that matter - you wear a full-length, black body stocking. It stretches from the neck to the ankles and wrists and is tighter than a second skin and it's a fucking twat to put on.

But, when you're stood in it, it shows everything. And it did.

I couldn't help it. My eyes dropped, directly, to the bulge between Commander Farr's legs. And boy, oh boy, was it a fucking huge bulge! The body suit was so tight, I could see every ridge on his cock and could even tell that he was circumcised, a practice that is not rigorously followed on many planets, but which is common enough on some in the Outer Rim.

Unconsciously, I licked my lips.

"Just shy," Farr said with a smirk.

"Just... shy," I repeated. I tore my eyes from his bulge, to face him. "I didn't say I was shy with women," I added.

"True," Farr agreed. "Like what you see?"

I couldn't speak. I nodded.

"I thought so," Farr said. "I get the impression that we're going to have quite a bit of fun. Would you like that?"

I nodded again.

"Good," Farr replied. "But right now, I have to shower and get to a meeting with Captain Dravis. I'm late enough as it is. So get a fucking move on out of here and get to thinking about that flight nickname, OK?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Trust me," Farr said when neither of us made a move to go anywhere. "I'd love to stay and have some fun now, but I really don't have time. So get the fuck out! Now!" He grinned as she spoke and I couldn't help returning it.

"As you say, sir," I said. Pulled off a mock salute and turned to leave.

"Oh, Jaxxon," Farr called my name.

"Yes, sir?" I answered as I turned to face him. He was still wearing the bodysuit on his lower half, although his muscled, chiselled torso was exposed now.

"Get dressed first, huh? I don't want my newest pilot getting a citation for being unsuitably dressed on his very first day!"

I looked down. I was stood in my boxers and nothing more.

"Yes, sir," I answered and returned to my locker.

Farr grinned and headed towards the showers. As he got to the doorway, he shucked off the bodysuit and I got a quick glimpse of his perfectly formed arse as he stepped inside.

* * * * *

I picked my flight nickname, Ajax. Ajax was a heroic figure from Chandrillan legend who led his men into many battles and won them all, earning the love and respect of his armies. The name also had the advantages of being short, easy to say and was similar to my own name.

I quickly excelled at my duties. I was the best pilot in my flight - even Commander Farr struggled to match my skill and he had more experience than the rest of us.

Within three weeks of my first skirmish a position as a Group Leader came up, with the rank of Lieutenant after the previous incumbent had found herself on the wrong side of a fight with a Rebel X-wing. Despite my youth and relative inexperience, Captain Dravis, commanding officer of the Death's Head had no hesitation in following the suggestion of Commander Farr and promoted me to the position. Almost no-one in the flight objected.

A couple of months later, I was promoted again to Group Captain, with a new rank of Captain. I now commanded a flight of six Groups within our flight, second only in command to Commander Farr, who was in command of the whole flight. He answered to no-one when we were flying and only to Captain Dravis when we were onboard the Star Destroyer. Again, despite being so young, only one person objected to my promotion. However, since it was down to the meritocracy onboard the Star Destroyer, my abilities gained me my rank.

I want to make that clear, because the objections, raised long and loud, came from another Group Captain in the flight, a stuck up bitch by the name of Jinaa. Jinaa Dravis. Captain Dravis' younger (and less capable) sister.

I think she had it in for me from the start. She clearly had her eye on me as a potential mate from fairly early on but my... preferences... did not head in that direction. Jinaa was not used to being rejected by men and she took it as a personal affront.

Moreover, she quickly discovered why I had rejected her and she found my... preferences... quite abhorrent. She, therefore, decided to make my life a living hell.

Commander Farr and I had our first "date" in the crew mess just a few yards from the hangar bay a day after my first skirmish. He had asked me to join him at a small table and, desperate to lose myself in those eyes once again, I had happily agreed.

I honestly couldn't tell you what we talked about during that meal. I know we spoke, long and with feeling, but I have no fucking clue what we said to one another. I took one look at those mesmerising blue eyes and I was gone. Gone, gone, gone. Man overboard.

It took three more meals together before I realised that he really was into me. And even then it was only made clear when he put my hand in both of his and he smiled at me. I blushed, I remember that much.

"You look so cute when you blush," Farr said, which had the obvious effect of making it worse. "So very, very cute."

"Thank you, sir," I mumbled. Fuck, but I felt like a complete dick!

"Don't call me sir," Farr said. "Not when we're alone. Call me Corran."

"It would not be appropriate to call you Corran, sir," I replied. "Regulation three-seventy-six-b, section three, sub-paragraph six: All officers of senior rank must be referred to by their rank or suitable honorific."~

Farr giggled. "Did you memorise that shit?" he asked.

"Of course, sir," I said, stunned. "Didn't you?"

"Did I fuck," Farr replied with a snort. "I learned the shit I needed to pass the entry examinations and that was it. Regulations are all very well, Maraz," he continued, "but you don't need to live your whole life by them."

"But... the code. The flight code. Are you telling me you don't follow that?"

"Kind of," Farr said. "When it suits me." He put my other hand inside his and clasped them together. "Listen," he said. "When we're out there, it's just us, yeah? Oh, Dravis can give orders and shit, but if those orders are likely to get us killed, we don't follow them, right?" He rubbed the back of my hands with his.

"Seriously," he added, "I don't want you to die following some bullshit order just because the flight code says you should. I don't give a flying fuck who the order comes from, either. Dravis. Hoppes. Me. Anyone. If you think the order is going to get you killed, ignore it. Better a citation than a eulogy, am I right?"

"I guess so, sir," I said.

"Stop it with the 'sir' shit, Maraz," Farr snapped. "I mean it. Out there? Yeah, I'm your CO so you treat me with respect. But in here? When we're alone? Names, Maraz, OK? Otherwise I am going to get very upset with you."

He smiled in a wicked way that had my stomach flipping over. I grinned back. "Oh, really?" I asked. "And what would being upset with me entail, may I ask?"

Farr leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "I'll bend you over my knee and spank that cute little bottom of yours," he said with a grin.

Fuck it, I thought, if he's going to flirt with me, I'm going to flirt with him! "Ooh! Promises, promises," I grinned back.

Farr looked at my empty plate. "You done?" he asked.

I looked at my empty plate. "Yes, sir," I replied with a cheeky grin. I looked into those eyes again. "You going to spank me now?" I asked in what I thought was a coquettish kind of way, but which probably wasn't.

"No," Farr said and I pouted. "Maybe later," he added. My pout promptly vanished. "Come on," Farr said and got up.

"Where are we going?" I asked, standing up myself.

"You'll see," Farr said and strode from the mess, me following like a lovelorn puppy.

A few minutes later we were heading down a corridor I recognised, but knew I couldn't go down. "Sir," I said, not being coquettish in the slightest, since we were in a public area. "I can't go down here. This leads to the Officers quarters." I tried not to look at the two stormtroopers standing guard near the blast door to the corridor, but it was nearly impossible. The E11 blaster rifles they held seemed awfully large this close up.

It was often said by the navy (out of earshot, I might add) that stormtroopers couldn't hit a hangar door at fifty paces with the E11 and that's not too far from the truth. At this distance, though, even a stormtrooper couldn't miss me. I tried not to think what kind of mess a blaster bolt from an E11 would make of me.

"Don't worry," Farr said and looked at the nearest stormtrooper. "He's with me," Farr said.

"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper replied.

And that was it. I was in.

It was vaguely disappointing to discover that an officer's quarters looked very similar to the barracks I was used to. Apart from the fact that Farr's quartes only had one bed, rather than six bunks lined up against the wall, it was just as boring and functional as the barracks room I normally slept in.

"Cosy," I said, sarcastically.

"Very," Farr replied, in a similar sarcastic tone. "The bed just looks so inviting, doesn't it?"

I looked at the bed. Being an officer, Farr didn't have to make it himself. Rather, a maintenance droid would come in at some point and fix it up for him. The bed was of standard Imperial navy type; exactly two metres long, one and a half metres wide, grey blanket (wool), white sheet (crisp, well ironed and flat as a pancake) and two pillows (polyester, soft). The bedding was wrapped so tightly, you could bounce a credit coin off it and have it hit the ceiling without causing a single wrinkle in the sheet.

"So inviting," I agreed in a flat tone.

"Glad to hear it," Farr said and I turned to face him. Somehow, without me noticing, he had removed the dingy beige t-shirt he had been wearing in the mess and those chiselled abs were showing themselves to me in all their glory.

I gulped.

"I... I... um... I..."

"I know," Farr whispered as he stepped towards me. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you. Much," he added as an afterthought. "Well, not unless you ask me to!" He grinned.

I nodded, calm and relaxed, although nervous as all fuck. "What do I do?" I asked. I felt like such a virgin. Which, of course, I was. But still.

"First of all?" Farr replied. "Stand there and lift those arms."

I lifted my arms. Farr removed my own t-shirt, a white one to indicate my rank-and-file status as opposed to the beige of an officer.

"Are you OK?" Farr asked. I didn't trust myself to answer as my mouth was completely dry. I nodded, instead.

"Good," Farr said. "Now for the pants."

Unlike him, I was wearing exercise pants, thick cotton things with a drawstring that were light to wear, but rugged enough not to get damaged when working out. Farr pulled the knot of my drawstring and pushed them over my hips. They fell to the ground. "Step out of them," Farr said. I kicked off my training shoes and stepped out of my pants.

"Now me," he said, stepping out of his shoes. I nodded once again.

Farr was wearing more smart trousers than I had been. His were a thin cotton/polyester mix with a belt. I've undone belts a million times on my own body, but I was damned if I could figure it out on someone else. It took far too long for me to figure out the buckle, but eventually his pants joined mine on the floor.

I looked up at him, although he was only a couple of centimetres taller than I. He smiled at me and I smiled back. Then he leaned forward and kissed me.

I knew I would never forget that kiss! His lips were rough and yet soft. He had the beginnings of a stubble that certainly wasn't regulation, but that didn't bother me at all. In fact, I found the roughness of his face quite stimulating.

I kissed back as best I could, but I had no experience of such things. It didn't matter. He put my face in his hands and moved me how he wanted me and we didn't break the kiss at all. I put my own hands in his hair - just a tad longer than regulation - and pulled his face towards mine as if I could get him closer.

I stepped closer to him, so that our chests touched and he moaned in my mouth. Oh, wow! I loved that! I put our chests together once more and he moaned again.

Finally, he broke the kiss and looked at me with those mesmerising, deep blue eyes that I wanted to swim in for the rest of my life. "Do what you want with me," he said. "If it feels natural, do it. If I don't like it, I'll let you know, OK?"

"OK," I said, leaning forward and kissing him again.

I did what felt natural. I moved my hands to that fantastic arse of his and gripped it, tightly. He groaned into my mouth and I saw his eyelids flutter. I pulled his arse to me so that our cocks, still encased in boxers, were practically touching.

He broke off the kiss again. "I'm sorry," he said and my heart fell. I was about to object when he continued speaking. "I've got to fucking have you," he said. "All of you. Right fucking now! Alright, Maraz?"

"All of me," I agreed. "Whenever you want me."

"All the time," he said and I could see in those eyes that he meant it.

He quickly pushed at the waistband of both pairs of boxers and they joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

My cock was rock hard by now and his was the same. I moved my hips forward, so that the two were together and he put his large hand around them, jerking the two of us off.

I closed my eyes and fell into the sensations around my engorged manhood. I gasped a little as he moved his hand up and down and I felt his own manhood throbbing against mine.

Slowly, he moved his hand onto my cock alone and began to jerk it a little faster. He leaned his hard towards mine so that I could feel every bit of his breath on my cheek as he whispered to me. "Now you," he said.

I hesitated for a moment. He whispered again. "Go on. It's OK. I'm here. I'll look after you."

I was wracked with nerves and my arm almost refused to move.

"This," he whispered, his breath now going right down my ear, "is one of those orders that you are not allowed to ignore."

"Yes, sir," I whispered back. Ordered now, I had no choice. My hand moved onto his cock and began to stroke it.

He gasped, lightly. "That's it. Oh, yes. So nice," he whispered to me. Then he moved his face away a little. "And," he continued, "maybe I was wrong." I looked at him, quizzically. "Maybe," he said with a smirk, "when we're alone like this you can still call me 'sir'!"

I smiled back. "Always follow the orders of your commanding officers," I replied. " Regulation one-one-a, section two, sub-paragraph seven."

"Bullshit," he laughed at me. "Even I know that's rule number one!"

I grinned, mischievously. "Do you want to know what regulation one-one-a, section two, sub-paragraph seven is?" I asked in my sweetest voice possible.

"I ache to find out," he replied with mock disdain.

I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Not a fucking clue," I said.

The pair of us laughed. But in his eyes I could see he knew the truth. Not about some stupid regulation, but that I was using humour to mask my nervousness.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said without hesitation.

"Good," he replied and pushed down on my shoulders.

A few moments later, I was on my knees with his impressive manhood just millimetres from my face. I knew what was wanted. I had read more than enough stories to have at least some idea of the mechanics involved in sex. And yet...

"I don't know what to do," I said, looking up at him. It was an odd angle that seemed to have the head of his cock at the bottom of my vision and his chin resting on it.

"Just try," he said, simply.

"What if I get it wrong?"

"I'll be sure to let you know," he said. "Basically, keep your teeth away and everything else will sort itself out."

"If you say so," I said. "Sir," I added.

I leaned my face forward and opened my mouth. I was about to try and get the head in, when I remembered something I had read a few months ago and decided to try it out. Instead of swallowing his cock, I put my tongue out and licked it all the way from root to tip and back again. It was a strange sensation, but one I instantly knew I liked.

From the gasp and moan coming from above me, Corran liked it as well. "Oh, yes, baby," he whispered and put his hand on the back of my head. "Oh, yes, that's nice."

I ran my tongue up and down a few more times and then began to tickle the piss slit with the tip of my tongue. He shuddered. "Fuck," he whispered. "Wow."

I knew I had found something he really liked and I teased him a few times, pretending that I was going to tickle him again and then withdrawing at the last instant. It started to drive him a little crazy, but I liked that, too.

"Fucking lick it or suck it," he hissed at me. "I'm fucking dying here!"

"Yes, sir," I muttered and then promptly swallowed the head in my mouth. I was amazed at how big it was, how much my mouth had to stretch to fit it all in, but I never doubted for a moment that it would work.

"Fuuuccckkk!" Corran hissed above me. "Fuck, yeah!"

I bobbed up and down on his cock for a few minutes and he gasped and moaned above me. His hand was still on my head and he manipulated me a couple of times, but mostly he just left me to it and enjoyed the ride.

"Fuck, Maraz," he whispered. "Fuck, you're so good at that." He gripped my hair, painfully, for a moment before releasing it. "Yeah," he continued, "fuck, yeah. Suck that cock. Suck it good. So, so good. So fucking good. Fuck, yeah!"

I couldn't get more than about half in my mouth and I worried about that. Remembering another thing I had read, I used the saliva that was streaming down his cock to lubricate my hand as I slid it up and down under my mouth.

This was a turn-up Corran was not expecting. "Oh, fuck!" he gasped at me. "Fuck, yeah! Wow! Yeah! Fuck! Oh, fucking fuck!"

I was practically in heaven. I was sucking the cock of a man I was already feeling that I was falling in love with and nothing would turn me from it. I moved faster and his groans grew wilder and louder.

"Fuck! Fuck, yeah! Yeah, baby! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Yeah!"

Without much warning, he suddenly stood on his tiptoes. "Fuck," he gasped and put both hands on my head to keep me in position. "I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum, Maraz! Right down your fucking cock-sucking throat! Fuck! Here it comes! Fuck, yeah! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUCCCKKK!!!"

Blasts of cum blasted into my mouth. I had had no intention of moving away, even if his hands hadn't held me down. I wanted everything and I was determined to get it. I swallowed as fast as I could, but some of his juices escaped and began to dribble down his cock. Never mind. I would get them later. Right now I was swallowing as fast as I could to prevent myself from drowning. 'Death by cum' was not what I wanted as the final line on my file!

After a long, long moment the blasts from his cock finally subsided and I licked a few bits of spilt cum from his cock. He gasped again and I looked up at him.

"Was that good, sir?" I asked.

"Fucking fantastic," he agreed. "Now get up here." He gripped a shoulder and pulled me to my feet, the last few dribbles of cum still coating his cock. Without preamble, he kissed me, deeply, on my cum-covered lips. He thrust his tongue inside my mouth and moved it around as if hunting for globules of cum that I hadn't swallowed yet. I don't know if he found any, but I guess it was possible.

Finally, he released the kiss and allowed me to draw breath. "Fuck me, but that was good," he said, still a little breathless himself. "Do you really expect me to believe that was your first time?"

"But it was," I protested and he grinned at me.

"Then you're a fucking natural," he said.

"Thank you, sir," I replied.

"Yes," he said, offhandedly. "I think we'll stick with 'sir' in the bedroom."

"If you say so, sir," I answered him.

"And now, orders," Corran said to me. "Turn around and kneel up on the bed."

"Yes, sir," I replied sounding as unconcerned as I felt. I knew what was coming might be uncomfortable - even painful - but I also knew Corran wouldn't actually hurt me. I admitted to myself that, yes, I was in love with him now. I just hoped he felt the same about me.

I turned to the bed and climbed aboard, kneeling down as I had been instructed. I assumed that he would simply stick his cock in; that was how the stories that I had read had gone. So it was quite a shock to suddenly feel something warm and wet against my arsehole.

I gasped and bucked forward, instinctively.

"Not good?" he asked me.

"No," I disagreed with him. "It was... very nice. I just wasn't expecting it."

I couldn't see it, but I could imagine that cheeky grin on his face again. Then the warm, wet feeling came back and I realised that it was his tongue, licking my arse.

"Oh, wow," I gasped. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck! Fuck! Yeah!"

I felt when he pushed his tongue inside me, further and I gasped louder. "Shit! Fuck! Yeah! Oh, fuck!"

He removed his tongue and I knew he was going to push his cock into me. I tried not to move away, but I was a little fearful of what was to come.

Yet, when it came, it wasn't his cock. Or if it was, it had shrunk in girth considerably! I quickly realised that this was his finger. He pushed it inside me as far as he could, massaging my arsehole and preparing me for what was to come. I loved the sensations inside my arse as his finger searched out every nook and cranny inside me. Then I felt a second finger inserted and my arsehole hurt a little as it stretched. I gasped in pain.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's OK," I replied. "It hurts, but it feels good. Don't stop. Don't stop. Please, sir. Please," I begged him.

"If you're sure," Corran responded, although I don't know if stopping was even a remote possibility by this point. I think I'd probably have killed him if he had done.

A third finger soon joined the other two and I felt my arsehole give more. How big can it get? I wondered, but soon I was incapable of wondering as my body gave into the sensations he was coursing through me.

"Oh, fuck, yes, sir," I gasped. "Fuck, yes. Yes. So good. That feels so good!"

By now, my arse was as slick as he was going to make it. It was only later that I discovered that he had covered his fingers, my arse and his cock in lube. All I knew was that my arsehole was as slippery as a rock eel from the waters of my home planet.

And that I wanted more.

He withdrew his fingers and, for a long moment, my arse felt oddly empty. I moaned in anticipation; the main event was about to begin.

I felt him push his cock against my hole and my arse resisted for about a second before welcoming in this new invader. He slipped in quicker than either of us expected and we both cried out "oh, fuck" together.

"Shit," I gasped. Even three fingers hadn't prepared me for this. But I was determined to enjoy it. "Fuck. Yeah."

"You OK, baby?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"You ready for me to fuck you, now?"

"Oh, yes, sir," I answered him. "Please fuck my arse! Fuck m... oh, SHIT!" I was interrupted as he slid out and then back in, almost up to the hilt. "Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck! Yes" Yes!" I jabbered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes!"

Slowly, but with increasing speed, he pushed and thrust inside me and my head simply exploded with pleasure. "Fuck! Fuck! Yeah! Fuck my arse! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me, sir! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Yeah," he gasped as he thrust deep within me. "Gonna fuck your arse raw. Gonna fuck it forever. Gonna cum so far up your guts you'll fucking choke on my dick!"

"Yes!" I gasped. "Do it! Fuck me! Make me cum! Make me cum on your fucking big dick! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"This is my arse, now," Corran growled. "And I'm going to fuck it from now until the end of time, OK?"

"Yes, yes, yes," I gasped. "Fucking fuck my arse! Fuck me! Fuck me forever, sir! Fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck!" My mind was like melted steel now and I was sure it was currently dribbling out of my ears, but I didn't care. "Fuck me!" I insisted again. "Fuck! Fuck! I fucking love this! I love it! Fucking fuck me! Fuck! Fuck! Yes! I love it! I love you!"

Without any warning at all, he stopped thrusting and I looked around at him, petrified that I had done, or said, something wrong. Shit! I thought, as I remembered my last three words. What the fuck did you have to say that for?

He pulled out of my arse and I groaned in disappointment. I was about to object when he grabbed my legs and spun me over, onto my back. In a single movement, he pushed my legs into the air and his cock back inside my arse where it belonged.

"Oh, FUCK! Yes! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck my arsehole! Fuck!"

I felt the sensation almost without realising it. "Fuck!" I gasped. "I'm going to cum! You're going to fuck the cum out of me! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCCKK!"

Several ropes of cum splattered across my chest and stomach and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I simply squealed, a guttural, primal sound as I erupted underneath him.

"FUCCKKK!" Corran roared above me. "Shit! Fuck! I'm cumming too!" he announced and I felt every ridge of his cock in my arse as he shoved it as deep inside me as he could and then felt it blasting hot, delicious cum deep into my bowels.

We gasped and wheezed together, both of us desperately trying to get our breath back but before I got myself back under control, he began to kiss me passionately once again.

I wrapped my arms around his back as my legs wound themselves around his impressive arse and pulled him into and onto me. We were a tangled mess and, had someone come in at that moment, it would have been almost impossible to tell where I ended and Corran began.

Eventually, he disengaged from the kiss and looked me straight in the eyes.

"What?" I asked him.

"Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

Corran paused for a moment before replying. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me?" he asked, his face pleading with me.

"Oh," I said and his face fell. "No, wait," I hurried. "Yes," I said, simply.

"What?"

"Yes," I repeated. "I meant it. I love you." I laughed at my own words. "I know we've only known each other a few days, but I know it. I love you."

"Good," Corran said and that lovely smile was back on his face. "Because I know that I love you, too." With that, he kissed me again.

* * * * *

What followed was the best year of my life. With my own promotion to Captain, when it came, I got my own quarters in the officers area, but I never spent more than a few hours there at any one time, basically using it as somewhere to store my clothes and uniforms. I spent every night and every off-duty period in Corran's arms and he in mine.

Life was almost perfect. The entire flight knew about Corran and I and, with one exception, had absolutely no problem with it. A couple of newer recruits who came to replace those who got themselves killed on occasion might make a crude suggestion that I had got my promotions through some sort of nepotism because I was fucking the Commander, but they were quickly disabused of such impressions as soon as they watched me fly.

The exception, of course, was Commander Jinaa Dravis, who tried to encourage those who questioned why I had been promoted with nasty, whispering words. The irony was that Corran and I were good enough to deserve our positions, whereas Jinaa had been promoted well above her limited capability.

I don't want you to think I'm denigrating her because she was a woman; far from it. I've known some incredible female pilots in the flight whilst I've been there and whilst I'd been in training there had been a female recruit for a while - a woman with two-tone hair called Sabine - who was the best pilot I think I've ever known (until the traitorous bitch fled to the Rebellion, taking a couple of other quality pilots along with her).

And Jinaa could fly, there was no doubt about that. She had the technical skill to handle the TIE, but she didn't have the instinct for it. Every move was planned. Every attack was meticulousluy worked out ahead of time. She had shit kill rates for the simple reason that, by the time she'd come up with a plan for attacking her target, someone else had already blown it out of the sky. Usually, that someone was me and, looking back, I guess that only made things worse.

Whilst the entire rest of the flight called me Ajax, she refused to - unless we were on an open channel. When she picked a channel to speak only to me, she would call me Cornhole instead and always sound like she was smirking when she said it.

I didn't know the term. It had no obvious meaning from what I could glean from searching the Holonet for it, so after a while I thought nothing of it.

Until, that is, I mentioned it, in passing, to Corran. We were in bed at the time and I casually asked him; "have you ever heard the word 'cornhole'? Or it could be two words, I guess," I added since I didn't know for sure.

Corran gasped and, whilst, as usual, it had something to do with my mouth, for once, it had nothing to do with it being around his cock.

"What?" I asked.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Jinaa," I answered, honestly. "It's like a secret nickname she has for me." I explained about how she would use the term when we were on a closed channel.

Corran looked downcast. I couldn't understand why but, despite my bugging him until well after we should have been sleeping - since we were on duty in a few hours - he seemed very reluctant to answer me.

"Fuck this," I said, irritated beyond belief. "See you later, Cor." I threw the blanket off me and prepared to get out of bed.

Corran gripped my arm and I turned back, furious with him. "Get off me," I cried, yanking away from his grip.

Corran now looked distraught, but he finally answered me. "It... it's not a nice term," he began. "It... ugh!" He sighed and threw his head back.

"It's what?" I insisted. "Tell me, or I swear on my mother's life that I'll leave."

"Your mother is dead, remember?" Corran said in a way that should have been cruel, but which oddly, was not.

"Your mother's life then," I retorted.

Corran sighed again. After a moment and just as I was about to swing my legs off the bed, he spoke again. "It's a crude term, back on Corellia, for... a guy who... likes to be fucked by other guys," he finished so quietly I almost had to strain to hear him.

I gaped. "What?"

"It means a guy who gets fucked in the arse!" Corran said, much too loudly. "It's like 'poofter' or 'queer' or any one of a thousand others!" He turned away from me, but I had already seen the wetness in his eyes.

"Hey! Hey! Corran!" I put my hand under his chin and turned him to face me. I gasped when he did. Tears - actual tears - were streaming down his face. "I'm here," I said. "So it's a nasty name! Names can't hurt us. Right?" Looking at his tear-stained face, I wondered.

He wiped his eyes and smiled as best he could. "Course not," he said.

"So what is it?" I asked him.

He sighed again. "It's been a long time," he said. "I haven't been called names like that since I left the Academy on Corellia. But the pain doesn't go away, apparently," he added, wiping a few errant tears away again.

"Hey, hey, hey," I said and wrapped him in my arms. I kissed the top of his head. "Don't let it bother you. She's calling me names, anyway," I added, "not you."

"Yeah. You're right," Corran said, but I heard the lie in his voice.

"I mean it," I said.

"I know," Corran replied. He turned his face towards me and we kissed.

"And now that's solved," I said when I broke off the kiss, "sleep time, baby. We're on duty in..." I looked at the chrono next to the bed, "four hours."

"'Kay," Corran said and we kissed again.

I slept quite well for the few hours I had before the alarm woke us up to dress for duty. When I did so, I saw Corran sat up, staring at me.

"You look cute when you're asleep," he said.

"Er... thanks? I guess?"

He smiled at me and, unlike earlier, this smile was genuine. "I mean it," he said. "I mean, you snore," he added with a sarcastic grin, "but you still look cute. You know, if I put my fingers in my ears!"

"Fuck you," I said, grinning.

"Not got time, sadly," Corran replied. "But later on, I promise to plough that arse all night long!" He slapped what bit of my arse he could see, which essentially had him smacking me on my lower back.

"Ow."

"Sorry, baby," he said. "I'll make it up to you later!"

We dressed for duty and headed to the briefing room. Just as we approached, he turned to me ans spoke. "I'll speak to Jinaa," he said. "I'll get her to stop calling you that name."

"It's OK," I insisted. "It's just a stupid name."

"It's crude and insulting," he objected. "And it's not conducive to positive relations amongst the flight. So I'll get her to stop, OK? I promise."

"It means that much to you?" I asked. "Because I really don't..."

"Yes," he said, simply, interrupting me.

I looked at him. "Okay," I agreed.

"Good," he said. "That's settled." He smiled at me. "Love you," he whispered as the doors to the briefing room slid open.

I said nothing. I simply gaped at him. We had expressed our affection for one another a billion times when we were alone, but in public we never said a word about it, so I couldn't understand why he had said something now. But I never got the chance to ask him about it. Those two words, those two, simple words, were the last thing he ever said to me.

* * * * *

Patrol was routine, as it had been for several weeks, ever since the Empire had routed the Rebels from their base on Hoth. We expected no trouble. Which, of course, is precisely the time when you should expect trouble.

When it happened, it happened fast. One moment, space was just the flight and - a few kilometres back, the Death's Head. Then suddenly, with a rush of pseudo-motion, an entire squadron of X-wings dropped out of hyperspace right in front of us.

They fired a salvo as they shot past us but did no damage to the flight, other than to cause us to scatter and break formation and then the battle was joined.

It was all Jinaa's fault, of course. The end, I mean. The gormless bitch got separated from her wingman chasing a lost cause and then ended up getting herself tailed by an X-wing. Desperately trying to escape, she went well out of the normal combat zone, spinning and diving around to avoid the turbolasers that threatened to blow her out of the sky.

Corran, being Corran, chased the X-wing down and got it, but in doing so he was completely out of place and miles from his own wingman. But he didn't panic, of course. He was far too experienced for that. "Genie," he called, using Jinna's flight nickname, "you're on me now, OK? Cobbler?" he added, talking to Hoppes, "you're with Ajax."

"Acknowledged, Commander," Hoppes said and, moments later he and I were in formation once more.

Jinaa, however, hated being told what to do and took far too long to get into formation. Apparently sulking on the edge of the combat zone, she ignored Corran completely and went off to do her own thing.

That's when I saw it; the X-wing that changed my life, forever. "Commander," I called into the comm system, "you've picked up a tail!"

"Shit," Corran shouted and began a sharp turn to starboard.

Had Jinaa been where she should have been, that turn would have brought the X-wing right into her targeting system. But she wasn't.

"Genie! Get in fucking formation!" Corran yelled. "And get this fucking bastard off me, right now! Genie? Do you hear me?"

"Coming, Commander," she called in and, yes, there she was. Finally. Pulling herself into a vague semblance of where she should have been all along.

"Turning, point three-five," Corran yelled into the comm.

"Acknowledged," Jinaa replied and adjusted her craft to compensate for the move Corran had told her he was about to make. But, as usual, she fucked it up and - when Corran finished his turn - she was several metres away from where she should have been and, worse, facing in the wrong direction.

"Chasing," she shouted into the comm and, for a wonder, got the next turn right. It was tight and the X-wing was good - very good. But slowly, she got in behind and prepared to fire. "Nearly there, Commander," she cried out. "Turn point seven-six on my mark. Ready? Now!"

Corran turned, as directed and the X-wing followed but Jinaa didn't match the X-wing quite closely enough. She was still compensating for her error and was finally firing at the enemy craft when a shot from the X-wing hit Corran's ship and it vanished in a brief ball of flame. A few moments later, Jinaa blew the X-wing up. But it was a few moments too late.

I, incidentally, could do nothing about this. I was on the far side of the combat zone and, unlike Jinaa, I was actually protecting my wingman, shooting two X-wings off his tail. By the time I had gotten them and could turn away to try and help Corran, he and Jinaa were some distance away. I tried to get there, even though I knew it would be too late. I arrived in the area a handful of seconds after the X-wing that had killed my lover had met its end.

I flew the rest of the mission in a daze, but fortunately there was not much left to do. Of the squadron of X-wings who had appeared in front of us, only two now remained and they quickly shot away into hyperspace, leaving us alone.

We returned to the hangar and should have been heroes. We had decimated an entire squadron of X-wings for the loss of only one of our own. But it was the identity of that one that killed all celebration.

* * * * *

Things quickly went to shit after that. Jinaa, adored by her older brother, was promoted to Group Commander in Corran's place. Since the quarters were no longer in use by Corran and they were presumably a bit nicer than her own (or maybe just to piss me off, I don't know), she moved in and I moved out - not that I'd ever officially moved in in the first place.

I tried not to blame her. I really did. But, in my heart, I couldn't help it. I tried to blame the X-wing pilot, but they had only been doing their job. Whilst I hated the Rebellion, at least the X-wing pilot had actually done their job. Unlike my stupid bitch new Commander.

Jinaa ruled by fear and fines. Late for a briefing? Fined. Uniform not pristine? Fined. Fail to fly straight enough, level enough, close enough or any of a thousand other, minor infractions? Fined, fined, fined. Morale amongst the flight was at an all-time low.

Ironically, despite her apparently hating me more than anyone else in the flight, I got the fewest fines because I played the game. And she hated that more.

About a week after Corran had been killed, she came to see me in my quarters. She had a sneer on her face from the first.

"So, cornhole, nice to see you," she said. "Keeping warm at night are we?"

I looked at her, but didn't answer.

"Well never mind," she said as if I had done, "I'll soon sort that for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Simple," she said. "I know a number of guys on the ship who would just love to take your arse for a ride. I'll have them come and meet you."

"The fuck you will," I said, hotly.

"Oh? Is that insubordination I hear?" she asked. "Would that constitute a fine?"

"Fuck off," I growled.

"Listen, cornhole," she hissed at me, "you'll do what I say or I'll have you bumped so far down the chain of command you'll be taking orders from a fucking MSE droid!"

"You can't do that," I objected.

"I can't, no," she agreed, "but my brother can."

I stared at her. "You wouldn't," I said, incredulous.

"I would," she replied. "You'd better fucking believe I would." I could see the truth of her words on her face.

"And anyway," she added, "what's the problem? Corran's not here to fuck you any more, so why not get a few other cocks in that fat arse of yours, hmm? I know a group of stormtroopers who would take you for a ride so good you won't be able to sit for a week." She grinned and I had never seen such blatant, malign, pure evil on a face since my pet cat had died a few months before I had joined up.

I was stuffed and I knew it. Captain Dravis was a fair commanding officer for the most part, but he was known to be putty in his sister's hands. "Give me a few more days," I said, downcast. "To grieve, you know?"

"I'll give you one standard week," she replied. She tapped me, twice, on my cheek and turned to leave. Just as she was about to step out, she stopped. "I'm just thinking," she said, casually. "Corran's gone so you're not Corran's hole any longer. Perhaps I should just call you 'hole' instead from now on!" She smirked at me. "Yes," she said. "A much better description of your new position, I think. Bye!" And she was gone.

I sat down on my bed and cried.

* * * * *

Two days later, Jinaa and I were on duty, but not actually flying. Rather, we were sat in our ships in the hangar, getting hot and bothered. Flight suits have cooling systems, but they are plugged into the control system on the TIE fighter itself. Having no power source of their own, the TIE's engines have to be under power to get the suit to work. Sat in the hangar, your engines are on standby and the flight suit controls don't function; you get oxygen and that's it.

"How much longer, command?" Jinaa asked over the comm. "The engines are overheating and so am I!"

"Stand by, flight," came the bored voice of the Deck Officer.

"We've been standing by for two fucking hours," Jinaa came back.

"Stand by," the Deck Officer said again. I heard Jinaa huff in frustration and lost my own hard fight not to copy her.

Suddenly, bright red, flashing lights illuminated the hangar. "Rebel attack!" came the call from the bridge of the Star Destroyer. "All wings, launch!"

Battle was joined. This was not a simple squadron of X-wing fighters hassling us, this felt like half the fucking Rebel fleet had appeared out of hyperspace and begun firing on us. I saw at least four capital ships and more starfighters than I could count, buzzing around. The Death's Head was new and had a lot of firepower, but even she would struggle against the four large Mon Calamari heavy cruisers arrayed against her.

I don't remember too much about the fight, only that it went completely to shit very quickly. We lost half a dozen fighters out of the hangar and a dozen more within the first few minutes. I, as always, trusted myself and my ship and quickly lost count of the number of X-wings, Y-wings and some new starfighter the Rebels had come up with that I destroyed.

Those new fighters were fucking dangerous! Until now, nothing the Rebels had could even come close to being able to outmanoeuvre a TIE fighter, but these things could turn on a credit coin and they had a shit-ton of firepower to boot. It was these new ships that took out the majority of our fighters in the attack.

Jinaa, as usual, got herself into a whole heap of trouble and I, recently assigned as her wingman, had managed to shoot three enemies off her tail. Sadly, the same could not be said in the opposite direction. One particularly good X-wing fighter managed to get on my tail at the precise moment that Jinaa was miles from where she should have been and began firing at me.

The X-wing was good, but I was better. I threw my TIE into a twisting, diving, looping manoeuvre that would have ripped the wings apart if I'd tried it in atmosphere. Here, in the vacuum of space, there was no resistance and my TIE held together quite comfortably. My move worked and the X-wing broke off the attack to try an easier target.

The easier target was Jinaa.

By the time I had spotted this and hauled my TIE into another turn that would have seen me end my days in a crumpled heap if we'd been in a planetary environment, the X-wing was almost on her. I chased it down.

"He's on me! He's on me!" Jinaa yelled, pointlessly into the comm. "Come on, cornhole," she hissed, "where the fuck are you?"

"Right here," I said, ignoring the jibe. "I'm on it!"

"Turning," Jinaa called, "point two-seven."

"No!" I yelled.

The turn she was planning would take her directly into the path of the X-wing and she would be a bullseye target that the most incompetent pilot in the galaxy couldn't miss.

I tried to eke just a little more power out of my poor, abused TIE fighter, but in my heart I knew it was all a waste of time. "Don't turn!" I yelled.

My cry was too late. Jinaa made the turn. The X-wing got a clean shot. Jinaa vanished in a cloud of flaming debris. Three seconds later, the X-wing went the same way as I blew it apart.

It was at this point that the battle finally turned in our direction, but it was also the last few moments of the battle itself. Two more Star Destroyers, the Manticore and the Avenger, appeared from hyperspace and launched their TIE fighters.

There was little point, to be fair. Rebels are traitorous, but they're not stupid. Four heavy cruisers against one Star Destroyer is a fight where they would just about have the advantage. Against three Star Destroyers, they were hopelessly outnumbered and they realised that very quickly indeed. They soon fled into hyperspace, long before the reinforcement TIE fighters even got close to the battle zone.

That's the one big advantage the Rebels have over the Empire, I suppose. Their starfighters all have hyperdrives so they - unlike us - don't have to land their fighters before the capital ships make their escape. The remnants of the Rebel force - most of them, I'm ashamed to admit - got away cleanly.

* * * * *

Aboard the Death's Head Captain Dravis was distraught at the loss of his beloved younger sister and there was only one target for his anger. Only one person to blame.

Me.

I didn't quite end up taking orders from MSE droids, but I was stripped of all rank and sent back to barracks with the rest of my flight. The others, of course, knew I wasn't to blame; they had seen me save Jinaa's life several times before the end, but there was nothing any of them could do. Captain Dravis was hurting and I was simply the punchbag he picked on. For a wonder, he didn't stop me from flying, but I was put on a shit patrol schedule.

Which is where we came in. I had been on a patrol for about seven hours, flying a pointless circle around the Death's Head when, with no warning, the hyperspace engines fired up on the Star Destroyer and it vanished right in front of my eyes.

I called into the comm, but there was no point in that, really. TIE's are short-range fighters with no long-range capability whatsoever. My desperate cries into the comm went the sqaure root of fuck all distance before dying out. No-one replied. I can't say I was surprised.

It took a minute of stunned silence for me to come to the realisation that I had been marooned out here and, as I said before, I'm going to die.

* * * * *

My flight suit had had enough oxygen for a twelve hour patrol when I launched. That was nearly twelve hours ago and now the system is flashing a bright red warning light in front of me. "OX Level Low" the warning reads.

I can't turn it off, so it flashes over and over.

Now it is joined by a beeping sound, presumably so that if I'm so blind that I can't see the bright red light flashing in front of me, the sound will be sufficient warning that my oxygen levels are dangerously depleted.

I can't turn that off, either.

I look out into space. All my life, I have loved the stars and now I will die among them, floating, forever in the cold, dark reaches of space. It's poetic. Maybe. Probably not.

I lied before when I said that I'll die where I am happiest. Where I'm happiest now, maybe. But where was I really always happiest? Easy; in the arms of my love. My precious, darling, poor lost Corran.

And, as I think of this, I see him! There! Those heavenly blue eyes! They're right there! And his rugged face and that stubble that isn't regulation and those chiselled abs and that beautiful, gorgeous, enormous cock of his, swinging between his powerful thighs.

No. Not swinging. Not any more. It grows. It is hard! He is hard for me!

In the back of my mind, I know I am suffering from hypoxia from the lack of oxygen in my ship. But the back of my mind can fuck right off because there - right in front of me - is my Corran. It's impossible. I know this. But he is there!

Then I hear him speak. "Cum for me, baby," he says.

"I can't," I reply. "I'm on duty."

"Fuck duty," Corran says. "Your duty has ended. Be at peace. Cum for me."

It is cramped inside my cockpit, but - somehow - I strip my uniforms' plastic, armoured trousers off me. I grip the thin bodysuit that I wear underneath the thin armour and tear a hole in the crotch.

"Make me cum," I ask him. "Please. Make me cum like you did that first time."

"I will," he promises.

And now I feel a hand on my cock. It grips me, just right. Slowly, the hand jerks me off. And in my hand I feel a cock that I am jerking off to the same rhythm.

"Cum for me, baby," Corran whispers in my ear. "Cum for me. You're going to make me cum. I promise. So cum for me."

"I will," I gasp. My breath is coming in thin gasps, now. I jerk him faster and he matches my rhythm once more.

The red light has gone out. The beep has stopped. Behind me, a light hiss that was my oxygen supply dies out and I am left in the silence of my cockpit. One by one, my instruments, lights and controls go dark.

It is just me and Corran now, jerking each other off in a perfect synchronisation that we had never managed before.

"Cum, baby," Corran whispers in my ear, still stroking my cock. "One last time. Cum for me. Let us cum together. Together. One last time!"

"Yes," I gasp, barely able to breathe. "Together."

"I'm cumming!" Corran whispers in my ear. "Are you cumming, too, baby?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Oh, fuck! You're making me cum!" I cry out as my cock spurts one last time. Ropes and globules of cum float around in the gravity-free cockpit.

But I don't see them.

All I see is Corran's beautiful, adorable blue eyes, right there in front of me.

And, as my world turns black, I allow myself to drown in them at last.