coolhandluke | Ahch-To, Baby

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Ahch-To, Baby

There were a lot of things Luke hadn't asked himself in the years since arriving on Ach-To. Some because he didn't want to know--or imagine--the answers. Some because there was no reason to borrow more trouble than he already had, and the litany of regrets was already long enough. Some because, well, they just weren't thinks that Luke Skywalker ever thought of.

Like the fact that he looked like some old Jedi hermit, complete with beard and unkempt hair and dingy robes. It hadn't exactly been part of the plan, but then, there hadn't been anyone to comment, or even a mirror.

That was the outside, however. Inside, something in Luke had died long ago, stopping in its tracks. Meeting himself, he would have assumed wisdom and calm, if a little eccentricity. But that hadn't been why Luke had come here, and it hadn't been what he'd found. No, it wasn't the Jedi Master who had retreated. It was the scared farm-boy, who'd flown too high and been brought crashing to ground. It was Luke from Tatooine, who had tried to be Master Skywalker, the hero, and failed.

That was what he'd been running from. That expectation, and his failure at it. That, and the disaster he knew his presence would bring to what was left of what he and the Rebellion had built, if Ben knew where he was. Better, he'd thought, to close himself off and shut down before he hurt anyone else. By his own hand, or by leading Kylo Ren to exact revenge.

It was not so simple a thing, however, to die. Unwilling to take any more lives, including his own, he lingered. Unwilling to open himself up to the Force, he nevertheless existed within it, his body sustained by it as much as by the food he caught. For awhile it seemed that he would just continue, in a sort of limbo of his own making, unwilling to make a move that would upset the galaxy even further than his presence already had.

Until she came.

Rey held a mirror up to him, one he wasn't always willing to gaze into but one from which it was impossible to escape--not least because she simply wouldn't go away. At first resentful, he quickly became resigned.

And then, suddenly, he became expectant. Not hopeful--he would not go so far as to say that--but there came a morning when he realized he would be disappointed to find her gone, given up. Despite his fear, despite his warnings, he wanted her to persist.

Maybe because he hadn't. And as much shame as he felt over that fact, the shame was at least an emotion. And as much as he'd tried to suppress those over the past years, the irritation at her arrival had begun to wear away at his resolve like grains of sand until emotions he'd thought long buried began to unearth themselves.

The truth was, Luke Skywalker was every bit the mess he looked. And yet, the longer she stayed, the less he could find it within himself to resent it. He'd been too long alone, and too long waiting. It only stood to reason that he'd bend to the first wind that came.

Wasn't how this had all started, to begin with?

The sun had barely risen when he took position, waiting outside the hut she'd claimed, unwilling to seem too eager but having to quash a small stirring of impatience, just the same. Warnings not to get too close, too attached, flickered in his mind's eye like a glitched holovid. But Luke had never once detached from anything--and if going to the most remote location he could find hadn't done it, he didn't know that it was worth trying, anymore.

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"Please do not ever think about that ever again," Luke said, with a somewhat comically appalled look on his face. "And no, I did not read your mind." Which made him equally complicit in the thought, he knew. But he, too, sobered quickly.

"He cannot know," he said quietly. "My... opening back up to the Force is a danger already. I have no doubt that he wishes to finish what... what was started, all those years ago. And that puts anyone with me--in any sense--in danger."

He reached out to brush his fingers along Rey's cheek, gently tilting her face up to meet his gaze. The tenderness in his own said all he wished to, for now, of how that would pain him in her case.

And, perhaps, why he had secluded himself here.

"Which means... I need to teach you how to shut yourself down, too. When needed. I'm not asking you to give up what you've only just discovered."

He knew he wouldn't have been able to, in her place.

Rey couldn't help grinning at Luke's initial admonishment, though she did manage to grow serious when he stressed how important it was that his nephew not learn about... well, any of this. Looking up at him when he touched her face, Rey saw the sincerity in his eyes and mirrored them with her own, her gaze softening as she tilted her head towards his touch.

She was about to tell him that Kylo Ren wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't hurt either of them, that they'd make it through the threat of the First Order together, but before she could go on with her idealistic affirmations, he mentioned that he needed to show her how to close herself off from the Force. Even with his amendment, that still stung sharply, her body going tense with shock.

"Shut myself down-... from the Force? Entirely?" Even if it was only temporary, the thought of giving that much up when she'd only so recently realized what it was hurt more than she could say. "Couldn't I just... break whatever connection I have with him? Like flicking a switch on a console instead of powering down the entire ship?"

"That's not how the Force works," Luke grumbled. "It's not a machine, not something you can engineer or tinker with. It's a living thing." But his eyes narrowed as he thought about it, gaze wandering off for a moment as he looked into the middle distance, seeing nothing. "We don't know what the connection is. To break it, or to put it differently, to shield yourself just from him takes finesse."

Thus far, finesse was not a quality he associated with Rey. Stubbornness, determination, and an ability to throw herself headlong into danger, yes--all of which he admired.

"Ben and Yoda were able to hide themselves because they were Masters. Even then, they had some help from... environmental factors. Still..." He re-focused on her. "I may be able to teach you to dampen your output. If only we knew what the connection was. What allowed it. Visions like that, over distance... It's not like anything I've ever seen before..."

Rey almost brought up that people were living things and could technically be tinkered with, and he proved as much with that hand of his. But considering that she still didn't know how he'd gotten it and would prefer not to risk bringing up any sensitive subjects (again), she let that much slide, especially since she was more concerned about that look on Luke's face.

She didn't like being an anomaly. It wasn't a new experience for her, not by any means, but that didn't make it much easier to bear, especially considering how out of her depth she was in this instance.

"But it's not impossible," she added expectantly, wanting some confirmation that there was nothing special that uniquely tied her to the most dangerous man in the galaxy. "It might be rare, but that could also mean that it's just... just some sort of fluke. Kylo-...." She paused, then, momentarily distracted by something he'd just said.

"Ben? That's what Han called-... but he wasn't a Jedi Master before he turned, was he?" She had no idea what officially made one a Master, but if it was a matter of expertise in the Force, then there was almost no way that she would be able to go up against someone of that level.

"Nothing's impossible," Luke said gruffly, then shook his head. "That sounds stupid, but... what I mean is, I should know by now not to discount anything at first sight." He paused at the look on her face, hoping there was some tidbit she'd left out, something that would piece this together for him.

What she said was something entirely different, and the fact she had to ask somehow hit him with a pang of fresh regret. For lost family, lost chances. For the gulf between what Ben had become, and what he'd been named for.

"No," he said softly. "Of course, you don't know. Ben Solo was the name his parents gave him. I pushed for it, knowing I was never..." He cut himself off. "Ben Kenobi was the name Obi-Wan Kenobi took when he lived on Tatooine, looking over me as a boy from afar. Not the cleverest pseudonym, but it's how I first knew him. Not a Jedi Master, but an old hermit my uncle warned me to stay away from. Ben... Ben was the first person to tell me who I really was." He'd left out a lot, but Luke had long since forgiven him for that. "And the first person to believe in me, and show me the ways of the Force. I followed him to the Rebellion, to Leia, to..." He spread his hand. "Too the world. And, of course, he was the reason Han and Leia had met. So it seemed natural, to name their son for him."

He fell silent, lost in memories. He was the age now that Ben had been when they'd met. And that gulf, too, loomed behind him.

It seemed as though everything Rey said just dug up old wounds for Luke, and she hated it. She'd come here for knowledge, but she hadn't counted on the fact that uncovering all of that knowledge would end up hurting someone she'd come to care so much about in such a small amount of time.

She looked down as Luke explained who Ben had been named after, frowning softly in thought. So Kylo Ren hadn't been a Jedi Master himself, but he'd been named for one. Did he know that? Did he know the story of Obi-Wan Kenobi? And if he did, did meeting Rey make him determined to act as a sort of dark foil for his namesake?

"... he'd been the first person to tell me who I really was." The words were soft, hesitant, as though she hadn't really pieced that together until now and was afraid of threading it all together incorrectly. "Kylo Ren. I hadn't known I could use the Force until he literally forced me to use it. He could have killed me — should have killed me, if I really do have as much power as you say — but instead he walked away. And when we fought, he told me that I needed a teacher. He offered—...."

Feeling a shiver go down her spine, she wondered what would have happened if she would have accepted his offer in her desperate need to learn more about herself. Even during these visions, he'd never attacked her, never belittled her; if anything, he seemed as though he was simply insisting that she was on the wrong side.

Peering up at Luke, Rey swallowed before asking, "Is that what this is about? Is he trying to turn me into some mirror version of the next Luke Skywalker?" Because that would mean that he not only wanted Luke, but he wanted Rey as well; she could protect Luke if she needed to, but protecting herself might be another matter altogether.

It wasn't her fault. Everything dug up old wounds for Luke, because right now, that was what his life felt like. The only way to avoid it had been to do as he'd done--cut himself off both physically and emotionally from that life. The choice, the process, of letting her in was changing all that, but it did not come without its own cost. One could not hurt that which did not feel, after all.

Luke was starting to feel quite a bit.

And what he felt now was difficult to sit still for, difficult to just listen to as Rey told him just what his nephew had become. What he'd tried. There was a lot to parse here, a lot to deal with, and he had no idea where to begin with it all.

But you started this, he reminded himself, and it's your job to fix it, if you can.

This was a relatively new thought, or at least a new manifestation of this line of thinking. And it hurt. It all hurt, and he wanted to walk away from it, but to do so now would be to leave that wound open again.

"He offered to train you," he says softly, gaze troubled. "He told you you had power, that together you could change the galaxy, that he was the only one who could help you fulfill your destiny." He was projecting, of course. But it was also a troubling educated guess. "My father told me the same thing. He's trying to be Darth Vader, perhaps." And he didn't know what that meant. Which part of Anakin was Ben emulating? Which would win, in the end? "Wait a moment. How did he force you to use it? What do you mean?"

Rey had always considered herself a smart person. There wasn't much she'd needed to know in the sense of abstract academic pursuits, but she was a fast learner when it came to practical knowledge. Now, though, standing there with Luke as she went over everything she'd gone through ever since hearing that little astromech beeping in alarm in the clutches of a Teedo, it seemed as though abstract thinking was the only thing that helped her situation make any practical sense.

Both the Jedi and the Sith seemed to work on a principle of teachers and students, even if they each had their own terminology for them. Masters, lords, padawans, apprentices — it was hard to keep track of them all and she couldn't be sure which was which, but it was clear that Kylo Ren had thought he could do better than his uncle. He had the power to prove as much, he had the backing of the First Order, he had everything... but he didn't have a student. He could be the next Darth Vader, perhaps, but he could never surpass Luke Skywalker unless he had the one thing he'd managed to take away from him: an exceptional student.

And for whatever reason, he'd seen the potential for that in Rey, and that utterly horrified her.

Hesitating for a moment at Luke's question in the event that she'd yet again done something she hadn't been supposed to, she eventually admitted, "He wanted information. I knew that BB-8 had some information that was important to the Resistance, and I'd seen it, but I didn't know then what it meant. He did. So he strapped me down and tried to take it from my head. I... pushed him out. He seemed surprised, and he pushed harder. I pushed back. Ultimately, he gave up and stormed out. When I realized I'd just kept Kylo Ren out of my mind, I began to wonder what else I could do. I'd heard about Jedi mind tricks, so I tried it on a Stormtrooper and got him to let me go. This was all just after I'd found your lightsaber, so the only explanation I could think of was that it was the Force."

She'd also thought it had all come from Luke, at first, that he'd somehow sent her a message in the form of a vision. That was part of why she'd volunteered to come find Luke in the first place, hoping he'd have other answers to questions she'd never dared to ask. But now that she was attributing the discovery of her abilities to Kylo Ren, it made her feel dirty, uncomfortable, as though she had somehow betrayed Luke.

It had not been Luke's doing.

The kind of power Rey was talking about, the sort of power he'd felt the moment she'd landed, was like nothing he'd ever seen before. He'd not had to see it demonstrated to feel a cold hand grip him deep inside, a warning he had not heeded last time, leading to his utter rejection of her until... well. He was not altogether certain he hadn't been right, to try to shut her out, but that decision now seemed impossible, unthinkable. To ignore it was no better than to assume he knew what to do with it. Either implied an arrogance, that he had the luxury of either controlling or disregarding the kind of strength that could change the balance of the galaxy.

Ignoring it, further, made it only more likely she'd find answers in an even worse place than him.

But neither did he ascribe her discovery to anything wrong within her--the idea that she would was foreign to him. Then again, so was the story she was telling. He could not fathom it--an untrained mind fending off a mental attack like that.

His nephew invading the mind of this girl.

The sheer violation of it made him feel sick to his stomach suddenly, both for her and for his own place in this travesty. He'd loosed Kylo Ren upon the world, and then he'd turned his back. Leaving people like Rey to fend for themselves, leaving those Ren faced without guidance or understanding.

Doing to them, essentially, when Ben Solo must have thought he was doing to him all those years ago.

He had two choices, in that moment. And he'd turned his back on turning his back ever again, at some point after letting Rey in. So instead, he gave in to his other impulse, just as strong in the other direction, and reached for her. If she let him, it was all he could do now to fold her into his arms and whisper, "I'm sorry, Rey. I'm, so, so sorry."

After discovering that the monster that had kidnapped her and tried to force his way into her mind was related to Han Solo and Leia Organa, Rey had had her entire worldview shaken up. She'd thought she had no real identity, no sense of self, because she didn't know who her parents were or where she'd come from. But if this man who'd been named after a Jedi Master and came from such a heroic family could devolve into the thing he was today... then clearly Rey had been placing too much stock in her heritage. She wouldn't admit it, not out loud, but she'd at least learned that she couldn't stand still and wait for an identity to be bestowed upon her rather than earn one for herself.

As such, Luke had no more reason to apologize to her than Han or Leia would have. Ben Solo had made his choice, and his choice had been to turn away from a legacy unlike any of which the galaxy had ever known in an attempt to embrace the darkness. Luke hadn't forced that choice upon him, no more than he'd forced her into that chair on Starkiller and held her down so his nephew could try and violate her mind.

So the apology was unexpected, almost as much as the embrace, considering how cautious they'd both been with physical contact ever since this whole thing between them — whatever it was — had started. She stood there for a moment in quiet shock, unsure of what she could do, of what she dared to do. Finally admitting that there didn't need to be any pretenses between them, Rey allowed herself to relax, leaning in against him and burrowing her face against the crook of his neck as her arms wound around him in return.

"Don't be sorry," she whispered softly. "If nothing else... it brought me to you."

He wanted to protest that this was not something to be grateful for, that fate had a cruel streak in bringing her to him, but he couldn't. He was too distracted by the way she filled his senses, hair smelling of desert sunlight, her strong, slight form pressed against him in a way that suggested she could belong there. That she fit. He hated himself for thinking it, but had he not already given in? And hadn't she given every indication that he was not taking advantage?

But it was not pleasure that had pulled her to him, and he felt a dry tingling at the corners of his eyes as her breath stirred the hair of his beard.

"What he did to you... I did not teach him," he murmured. "What he did should be suffered by no one."

For a moment, he almost regretted not killing Ben that night, but the thought added to the nausea and he quelled it. Instead, he raised his real hand to brush against her hair, bound though it is. He leaned back to look down at her, and something made him smile, though his eyes remained sad.

"What a miracle you are," he murmured. "What can I teach someone who can stand up to that, and live to tell the tale?"

While Rey should have known that Luke wouldn't teach someone how to force his way into someone else's mind, the fact that Kylo Ren had picked that up on his own — or from some sort of outside source — still came as something of a surprise. What was a bigger surprise, though, was Luke's statement as he looked down at her, causing Rey to let out a short, dry laugh.

"I'm no miracle," she told him, though she desperately wanted to believe otherwise. "And if I am, maybe you can teach me how to feel like one instead of just...." At a loss for the right word, she shrugged her shoulders and murmured, "Just a nobody."

Luke's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed as the brunt of her words bore down on him. Or at least, their meaning in contrast to his own experience.

"Do you think," he said slowly, "that I'm 'somebody' because of who my parents were? Because I know where I came from?" He shook his head. "If so, that's a sad legacy, don't you think? To say that I am who I am because of my family is to say that I am only important because my father was the scourge of the galaxy. That's not the way to feel important, Rey."

"What? No!" Rey had been speaking about her own experiences, her own sense of identity — or rather, her lack thereof. "You're important because of the things you've done, because of what you've accomplished in your life." His point was more than evident before she'd even finished speaking, but she was still reluctant to accept as much, shaking her head as she glanced away.

"It's... different. I'd spent my entire life waiting for something, and I just never knew what it was. I thought it was my family, but... maybe I was wrong." Maybe it was you, she wanted to say, but even while holding him close to her, she couldn't quite bring herself to do so.

Different. Luke wanted to laugh, but he feared she'd interpret it as laughing at her. "Yes," he said. "We are very different. Do you want to know what I'd done, by your age?" He looked down at her, unable to stop the smile at just how off she was. "I spent 'my entire life' wishing I was somewhere else, wanting to join the Imperial Academy, risking my neck in a souped-up skyhopper, whining and moaning to my very patient aunt and uncle that no one understood me. And, all right. Questioning who I was, weaving stories in my head about my parents. Wanting to be someone 'important.'"

He almost spat that last word, amusement fading.

"We don't need to be important, Rey. We need to do the important. I don't know where you came from, and I don't care. It wouldn't make one bit of difference, to me or the Force, whether your parents had never heard of the Force or whether you're Yoda's granddaughter. My father was Darth Vader. My nephew is Kylo Ren. My sister is General Organa. And none of that, really, tells me who I am. Does it?"

Rey felt an eerie sense of familiarity as Luke explained what his life had been like when he'd been her age. She could almost see him as a young man, before the Force, before finding his sister, before ever leaving his home planet... but it felt as though she was watching her own life while he detailed his own. Her desire to learn to fly, to build a speeder from the ground-up, to find the family she yearned for so desperately, whether they were "important" or not.

She and Luke would have been friends if they'd grown up together, she realized. They might have even grown to be more than that. So it only stood to reason that they should stand together as they were now, even if one of them might have been born entirely too early while the other had been born entirely too late.

"No," she admitted softly. "Only you can do that." Peering up at him curiously, she managed a small smile as she asked him, "So... who are you, Luke?"

"I... I'm not sure."

He looked down at her, eyes clouded with doubt, unsure in this moment what life had brought him to after all this time. He'd begun like her, hopeful and arrogant, and ended up a hero. But in the aftermath, there was only doubt, missed opportunities, and betrayal. Or anyway, that was all he could see, from here.

"I thought I was going to bring balance to the Force. I thought I was going to... help a generation without any hope find it in themselves. I thought I was going to be some small part of a new era, of peace and compassion."

Rey looked at him as he spoke, as though unsure where he was going with this. When he finished, she was still unsure, and she tilted her head at him, no less curious than she'd been earlier.

"You can still be that, Luke. All of that." Gently cupping his face, she pointed out, "It might not have been the generation you were expecting to help, but it still needs you. It still needs everything it can learn from you. You're still a living, breathing person with more experience than someone like me could ever hope for. There's no limit to what we can accomplish together, other than the ones we set for ourselves."

He smiled at her, sadly, as if against his will. It wasn't that he believed her, or didn't. It was that he wanted to, in a way he hadn't wanted anything in years. But that was her all over, wasn't it?

"I guess the point I started out trying to make," he said softly, "was that so can you. Be anything you want--it's not about your past, or your name. So if you want to know what you are, you'll have to make it. And hopefully, make fewer mistakes than I did."

Some experiences, no one should hope for.

He realized they'd been standing quite close for some time, and it made him suddenly self-conscious. "Is this okay?"

Rey met his sad smile with her own, though it was far more hopeful and encouraging than his had been. She didn't know whether or not he thought her naive or was just reluctant to hope for something better than he'd allowed himself to hope for all these years, but either way, Rey was willing to stand by him and do what she could to ensure that his future smiles were brighter and more genuine.

She nodded slowly, to show that she understood the point he'd been trying to make and was willing to try and change her former worldviews for the sake of advancing as an individual. But his question was unexpected, and she furrowed her brow for a moment before realizing that she had one arm draped around him while her other hand cupped his cheek. though they'd long established that there was nothing to be uncomfortable about, she still found her face growing warm as she glanced down for a moment and grinned, quickly forcing herself to meet his eyes again.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

There were about a thousand and one reasons it might not be okay, ranging from Luke smelling badly to his being a presumptuous, dirty old man. But he thought better of listing them, and just shook his head, feeling more than a little at sea. But his smile turned less sad, more wondering. As if he couldn't quite credit that she wasn't moving away.

"I don't know," he confessed. He just knew that he felt better about this than he thought he should, because it felt good and right and thrilling in a way he had certainly not been thrilled in decades. And in his life, in the place his mind had been for so long, that could not possibly be correct. "I guess I keep waiting to wake up and realize I've imagined all of this."

Her fingers still feathered along his cheek, and she hadn't moved them, so partly because he felt emboldened and partly as if to dare her to move them he turned his head slightly to catch the tips of them on his lips, a gentle caress he made without breaking eye contact.

Considering that Rey had grown up largely among criminals and other people for whom hygiene wasn't a high priority, and she herself primarily relied on dust baths to get clean given how precious of a commodity water was on Jakku, she didn't really notice any sort of smell coming off of Luke that was particularly unpleasant. If anything, the smell of the island was more overpowering, since it was unlike anything else she'd experienced. She'd associated that scent with Luke without really realizing it, and if Luke had bothered to make a list of all the reasons he'd imagined for why their proximity would be less than ideal, she might have outright laughed at him.

She did laugh, though it was more of a soft chuckle when he claimed to be waiting to wake up. Before she could point out that they'd already been through that, though, he caught her off-guard with a soft brush of his lips against her fingertips. Oh. That was... unexpected. And sweet.

Feeling the corner of her lips quirking up into a small, fond smile, Rey softly remarked, "If you really think you're going to wake up, you can probably afford to let your imagination run a little more wild." Not as wild as their shared dream had been, perhaps — at least, not yet — but certainly enough for him to know that his lips can touch her elsewhere. That much was clear when she leaned in towards him a bit, even if she was far too inexperienced to even pretend to know how to make the first move.

He really, Luke thought, ought to pull back, resume the lesson, get back to business. He was here to train her, or rather she'd come here to be trained, not whatever this was. It was undisciplined, unbecoming a Jedi and a man of his age, and so on. But the way she was looking at him, and the way his sense of her enveloped him not just in terms of bodily warmth but the dappled sunlight flow of her in the Force, was intoxicating. Plus, it helped to mute the part of his brain that wasn't sure exactly what to do with her, how to proceed with instruction when she was so wholly unlike any other student he'd ever had. Except for--

And he definitely did not want to think about him.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, kissing the tips of her fingers and feeling a smile crease the weathered thing he called a face. "I guess you would say that, if I were dreaming." Pulling her hand down with his own, he leaned in and replaced her fingers with his lips, because despite all the mitigating factors and the wearing away of his sense of self, Luke was still Luke and diving in was a thing he did. If not now, when?

Their lips met, the kiss soft though their skin perhaps was not, and his metal fingers tightened around hers gently as a surge of fierce affection flowed through him.

Rey found herself hard-pressed to continue considering herself a student of Luke's. For starters, she had no reference for how a student should behave, especially in regards to their teacher. And even if she did, it was clear that the pair of them had crossed that boundary a long time ago... probably around when they thought it was okay to have heated dreams about one another and hold one another close for an extended period of time.

Whatever they were and whatever they were on their way to becoming, Rey was in over her head, and to that end, she relied on Luke to lead the way. Even so, she was a fast and eager learner, and so when he pulled her fingers away from his face and leaned in, she gently gripped his fingers and met his lips halfway.

She didn't know what she was expecting, really, since she'd never been kissed before. The first thing she registered was the way his facial hair tickled at her face. The second was the way his lips felt over hers, soft and yielding (if a little chapped on both their parts owing to years of weathering). Then she thought about the way his lips were moving, and whether she should be moving hers, and whether she was doing this right at all or if he was going to pull back and laugh at her. Soon, though, she forced herself to relax, feeling a certain warmth of affection blossoming over her and deciding that she was thinking far too hard; right now, she was going to opt to savor the moment for as long as she could before she was forced to think again.

Romance was about the last frontier Luke felt qualified to lead anyone into, but here they were. And he had to admit... it was nice. She was warm and soft, and somehow yielding and firm in equal measure, and it was a sort of connection that was very different from anything to do with the Force. It was both more and less primal and instinctive, in different ways. He wondered, distantly, if his beard was itchy. He'd never kissed anyone with a beard, before. Either way you wanted to take that.

He wanted it to continue forever, partly because stopping meant addressing this thing he'd done, but eventually he could feel his breath begin to run out and he drew back, ever so slightly, to put his forehead against hers. His eyes slid shut, instinctively removing all distraction but the feel of her.

"Was... is this okay?" he murmured.

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