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Summary
Perihelion. The word drifts up at some point from a murky sea of undone thoughts. Been in this kid’s orbit since you met him, haven’t you? ‘N now you’ve gone and flown in too damn close.
He’s burning up in the white-hot heat of Luke’s body, of Luke’s breath, of Luke’s tongue like wet fire where it slides across his skin. He doesn’t know which will kill him first: the feverish haze of the drug that threatens to blot out the edges of his consciousness every second, or the unbearable tension that pulls every muscle taut when Luke touches him, tastes him, murmurs wordless sounds over his body. But with all the certainty of the Safforbloom in his veins, Han cannot imagine surviving this moment.
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A crash landing into the spice fields of Saffor has Han worried about one thing, and one thing only: the fine he's about to get slapped with. But when he underestimates just how potent the natural aphrodisiac is, an accidental overdose leaves him and Luke both in a strange and desperate situation, where there is only one solution.