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“Well,” Han said, as he pressed the open palm of one hand against Leia’s.

“Well,” Leia repeated, keeping her own palm firmly against his, her arm taut in resistance, their hands meeting in the middle, each pushing against the other in a game they had taken to playing in the weeks since they’d become lovers. It was no real contest of physical strength, but an excuse to touch and a way to channel their natural tendency towards opposition and collision, now that they were spending less time opposing each other and were colliding in other, more interesting ways. Leia had spent dinner tucked under Han’s arm. Chewbacca had excused himself with a light roar about the dishes, growling something low about leaving the pair-bonded pagen birds alone. Han had let his friend’s ribbing go this time, turning his attention to his female companion. Threepio was blessedly on watch.

“We were well-behaved tonight,” Leia asserted, her lips drawing up in a wry smile, as she raised her palm but left the pads of her fingers against his.

“We were,” he assured her, momentarily meeting her pressure with his fingers, the push more intense now that it was concentrated into five narrow pinpoints. He then let the gesture drop into an easy handhold, which he took advantage of by taking her hand in both of his.

“We were not gross,” she emphasized.

“We’re never gross,” he said, massaging her knuckles.

“Mmm.” She raised her hand as if granting him permission to continue his attentions. “And you’ve confirmed that with Chewie?”

“Absolutely,”  Han said, pressing his mouth to her hand.

“And the food wasn’t too bad either,” Leia sighed with some pride. She was rotating making dinners with the rest of them and while hers weren’t anything fancy— Chewie could attain some decently creative heights with a combination of ration bars, canned foods, and unknown, somewhat dubious spices— they were solid.

“You make an excellent meal,” Han observed as he turned her hand over to apply kisses to the inside of her wrist, throwing Leia a mischievous look to emphasize his point.

“Are you trying to talk dirty to me, Captain Solo?” she asked.

“Just statin’ facts, Your Highness,” he replied.

“Indeed.” Leia extricated her hand from his. Placing her now-free hand on his neck, she pulled Han into a kiss that was soft and light and smooth, its slow sensuousness the only hint at the depth of their intimacy. Eight weeks into their twelve-week journey, things had settled into a nice, easy rhythm on the Corellian freighter. The couple wasn’t in a rush to get to bed— but neither were they avoiding it. The Princess’s hand meandered down to his chest. The V-cut of his shirt allowed her to wind her fingers into his coarse hair, sending the nerve endings in his skin prickling with the beginnings of desire. She drew back from the kiss and moved her hands, still under his shirt, to his shoulders, and Han nodded in grateful acknowledgement as she began to massage them.

“Did you get the engineering system get fixed?” Leia asked.

“Mostly. Gotta replace another part to be compliant with the upgrade.” It would mean another half-day at least on his back under the tech station.

“It’s something you have onboard?”

“Picked it up with Luke on Eriadu.”

The two of them sat a while, discussing the particulars of the ship’s repairs and playing with each other’s hands— and fingers, and hair, and clothing, in the way Han had heard new lovers sometimes did but never quite believed. He’d had no occasion to experience such things himself, having gone from a slightly awkward teenager with one or two brazen moves, to a man whose affairs had never extended to spaces beyond seedy motel rooms.

Returning the massage Leia had given him, Han marveled at how relaxed she was compared to when they had first began making out in those days after their escape from Hoth. Then she had been all wired, coiled up and tense. She was hot and fiery even before she’d gone to bed with him; he knew she’d had some apprehensions about becoming physical but he hadn’t thought the tension she was holding was about that. At least not mainly.

Despite the Falcon’s hyperdrive failing him— and the feelings of powerlessness and inadequacy that rose like bile in his throat at that critical betrayal— Han had kept Leia safe with some quick maneuvering. And all in all, the R&R mandated by the circumstances had been good for her. It showed in the color coming back to her cheeks, the number of real smiles she’d favored him with, the glint in her eye. He didn’t want to be one of those guys who thought his cock was a gift to women— whose problems couldn’t be possibly serious enough that a night or two with him wouldn’t solve ‘em— but he swore the sex was doing her good. It sure as hells was helping him. When he was with her, all the debts and the foolhardy causes in the galaxy fell away, and the grinding of the Falcon’s malfunctioning parts faded, until there was only them. His muscles felt loose and right from the daytime labor and the nighttime exertion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease. He had never seen her so free as when they lay next to each other, uncovered except for the sheen of sweat, panting and waiting for their pulses to slow, breathing each other in, mouths and hands still exploring. Languidly tracing each other’s contours and scars, they would talk, really talk, without some of the shields they’d built over the years out of sarcasm and quick wit. He found out about her family and her covert activities as a Senator, and she’d— somehow— gotten out of him the story of how a boy from the Coronet City gutters had attained the knowledge and skill for admittance into the elite Imperial Academy.  

There were still plenty of times when she would tense up or withdraw, and plenty she kept to herself (hells, there was plenty he kept to himself). But these periods of openness between them were growing longer and more frequent. He was terrified of Leia’s defenses slamming down, permanently, once they got to Bespin. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if he could convince her to leave her damned Rebellion. But she couldn’t abandon Luke— he couldn’t abandon Luke. And anyway, he knew in his heart of hearts that without a cause, cut off from the few connections she had left to her family and her people, Leia’s passion for him would sour, and they would consume each other as they had come so close to doing on Hoth, when their pent-up desire for each other had nowhere else to go. They’d continue to fuck, sure. But the emotional glow that was growing between them—undeniably so, no matter what they held back, he told himself during the day, as he whacked away at the Falcon with every tool he had—would dim and those sparks would die until it was a shell of itself.

Leia needed solid work as much as he did, and hauling spice or stolen artifacts across the galaxy wouldn’t cut it. She needed it to do somebody some sort of good. Helping out the criminal element in exchange for credits wasn’t for her. She would eventually turn to sabotaging the slave trade or exposing pollutant emissions. Or saving orphans. He had thought that kind of thing was a luxury of the rich, but there was nothing luxurious about the way she was living, and he suspected she was funneling every bit of funds she had left into the Rebellion. For Leia, working for a cause seemed to be survival itself. But he hated that it had to be all-consuming and so damn dangerous.

Han realized that they had grown quiet.

Leia leaned back in his arms, and looked at him with thoughtful affection. “You okay, hotshot?”

“Yeah,” he said, tugging her hair gently, and giving her a little half-smile in reassurance.

She looked at him, and they both knew that she knew his mind had been someplace else. “Okay,” she said. They had a silent agreement to not push it, to not muck up their time together with worrying about a future that they couldn’t change. She put her palm to his face without taking her eyes from his. His first instinct was an urge to avert his eyes at the unfamiliar intimacy of the gesture, but he’d never been one to back down and this wasn’t something he wanted to back down from. She leaned in ‘til she touched the bridge of his nose with hers. “Want to go to bed?”

He leaned his forehead into hers,  “I’m not really tired.”

“Oh, well then,” she started to pull away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Han grabbed her by the ribs, as if to tickle her, “ maybe I can think of something else we can do there.”

Hands resting lightly on her hips, he followed Leia past the tiny galley where the dishes were drying, Chewbacca nowhere to be seen. As she palmed open the hatch to their bunk, Han’s hands gripped her harder of their own accord. The hatch whooshed open. Leia moved into the entry of the captain’s cabin and he followed closely behind, his fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt and stopping her just past the entryway. His knuckles kneaded her as his thumbs brushed her hipbones. An involuntary grunt caught in his throat as he circled her waist with his arms to hold her closer, and he was painfully aware of how stiff he was becoming in appreciation and anticipation of her. Han’s mouth went dry.

“We have to close the hatch,” whispered Leia, craning her neck to chide him.

“I’m busy,” he said, taking advantage of her position to bend down and brush her neck with light, feathery kisses.

Han could practically feel her roll her eyes as she heaved an exaggerated sigh, but her exhalation gave way to a telltale shudder and when he glanced up he could see the line of a smile spreading over Leia’s cheek. He continued his trail of kisses, pulling aside the edge of the shirt she wore— his shirt, belted dress-style, with the leggings that had been under her snowsuit at the time of their escape— to end his mouth’s journey with a light sucking of the spot where her shoulder met her collarbone. It was his first taste of her body since they’d finally left their bunk at an indecently late hour of the morning to perform perfunctory repairs, and it thrilled him. He never tired of uncovering Leia.

“This is why Chewie thinks we’re gross,” she murmured against him. She deliberately arched her lower back, pressing into his erection. He groaned his enjoyment against her neck, feeling his own hot breath bouncing back at him and the heat of her skin under his lips.

“Forget Chewie.” Still nuzzling her, Han slid his hands up to her waist to loosen the belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter and running his hand over her stomach.

“I’m closing the hatch,” she whispered. But his lips caught hers and held her in place. Her mouth was impossibly soft. She tasted vaguely of the after-dinner kaffe, and the rich, innervating scent was erotic on her breath.

“Good,” Han broke the kiss to agree, but he was pleased when Leia turned around and pulled him back in, her mission for privacy apparently abandoned.

Han’s palms found her breasts, running his hands broadly over her, feeling her nipples stiffen under his touch and listening to the music of her breath catching. Leia was, as he had expected, not wearing anything underneath the thin fabric. The first time she had done this after they started sleeping together, Leia had tried to tamp down on his reaction by explaining that this was not due to any lascivious intentions but a desire to preserve the one brassiere she had come on board with, especially now that she was less concerned about what he might see in the cold— but it didn't dim the thrill of knowledge that there was so little between them, that he could uncover her with one easy motion. Nor did she appear to mind his access as he massaged her, now with his thumb, her eyes closed and her breathing struggling to remain controlled.

The growing familiarity of her quiet eagerness had not diminished his sense that he might be dreaming, that he was going to wake up tomorrow clutching his pillow to him, cold and alone on Hoth. If they had been killed in that asteroid field, and if the universe wanted to reward him for his few good deeds, he couldn’t imagine a better heaven. Leia’s tongue now pressed against his mouth until he opened for her. The slick twirl of sent shivers down his body, and as he returned the gesture, he felt a jolt of ache that reached all the way below his belt.

She wound a leg around him in her particular way, and he broke the kiss to cock an eyebrow at her. He thought he understood what she was asking but wanted to make sure before he complied. She wrapped her hands around his neck and nodded, so he hitched her up around his waist. Her legs encircled him, her heels pressing into his legs, and he held his arms steady on her lower back, a hand cupping her perfect ass. There wasn’t much room to touch her— he had to concentrate on not dropping her— but the comforting weight of her, having her wrapped around him was more than enough.

She continued her fervent kisses which he eagerly returned, caressing the back of his neck with one hand. He felt her other arm disentangle from the embrace and he started as she lurched her body up slightly to smack the wall behind them. An error beep followed and his brain slowly lumbered after as Leia lurched again, touched the wall more gently, and the hatch whooshed closed behind them.

“Nice,” he breathed, his mouth meeting hers again.

“Teamwork,” she said through the kisses.

"Kriff, Leia.. you’re..." The rest came out as a groan.

“I know.” She leaned back with a faint smile on her lips and a pleased look in her eye, before allowing him to capture her lips again.  

I hope you do, Sweetheart.

She weighed nothing, but having Leia’s legs hugging his waist, pressing her core intentionally against him, was making him weak in the knees and he stumbled forward 'til he hit the full-sized bunk. He kept his hands steady at her back and Leia unhooked one leg, placing it on the mattress. Instead of unwrapping her other leg, however, she used it to grind her hips against his, sending him gasping, before she dropped her other leg and sat back on her knees with a truly wicked grin. Oh, he would give back to her exactly what she was doing to him, alright.

She temporarily thwarted his promise, however, by unbuckling his belt. He felt his excitement jump under her nimble fingers and he wrapped his hands into her hair. She loosened his trousers around his hips— a relief— and he felt her hands slide beneath his boxers to grab his ass, nails digging in gently, as she put her lips to his throat. He closed his eyes and saw stars as she kissed his neck, the fire of her belly against the hard heat of his erection. Having her against him like that set off sparks and he wanted to keep her there as long as possible, losing himself in the sensations. But they had plenty of time and he hadn’t lost sight of his desire to make sure he gave as good as he got.

Han broke the embrace to kick off his pants and crawl onto the bed, seizing the bottom of Leia’s shirt. She rose on her knees and stretched to assist him as he lifted it above her head, Leia temporarily disappearing and reappearing as she revealed herself to him. This was a moment he never tired of, when he got to see her bare from the waist up. The cream glow of her skin, the roundness of her full breasts, the blush pink of her nipples, stiff with her own arousal. The soft excitement of her face as she reveled in his (predictable) reaction. How could he ever get tired of her?

She cast the shirt aside as he exhaled reverently. He forced himself to slow down— he wanted to wind her up. Wordless, he bent deeply to kiss her stomach as she leaned back on her heels, working his way upwards, 'til he got to the swell of her breasts. His mouth eagerly caressing her, his hand reaching out to massage wherever his mouth could not be. He started from the base and worked his way to the center. Leia let out a long moan now, wrapping an arm around his neck and raking her fingers through his hair. He took his time, enjoying the taste of her, the way the softness of her skin contrasted with the supple firmness of her as he rolled her between his fingers and sucked her with his mouth, the vibration of her alto moans in her sternum against his cheek. She ran her hand back down his neck ‘til she reached the shirt still on his back.

“Not fair.” She tugged at his shirt, grabbing a good handful. “Hold that thought, hotshot.” He obediently released her from his grasp to let her remove the offending item of clothing. The cool air was a balm on his skin and he breathed out. “You may resume,” Leia said in an attempt at her Princess voice, her commanding tone slightly offset by the flush in her face and the note of desire.

He flashed her the cockiest bedroom smile he could muster. “Oh, may I?”

“Mmhmm,” her voice betraying her own excitement as she splayed her fingers against his bare chest, brushing against his nipple. Fires ignited under her slim hands. He swallowed in an attempt to rein in his lust.

“Where was I? Mmm, not sure I remember.” Han made a show of looking up and down her body. He put his hands on her waist, grabbing the band of her tights alluringly, testing it to see how much give it had, and then released it as if changing his mind. The temperature being what it was, he knew the goosebumps on Leia’s skin weren’t due to cold. He feathered his fingers upwards, conscious of Leia following his hands with her eyes, just brushing the contours of her breasts, which got a shiver out of her, to brush stray hairs away from her face. And there it was— that somehow physical sparking of connection that he felt whenever their eyes met— in a hangar on Hoth, in the middle of a briefing. Here, in what had been his bunk, Leia bare from the waist up, her chest rising and falling rapidly, waiting to see where he would touch her, it was like a godsdamned electrical storm.

He kissed her with ferocity. He reached his hand into her hair and started to unwind her loose coil of braids, letting her chestnut tresses come down around her shoulders and back and breasts. He felt her palm rub slowly against the front of his shorts, the heat of her hand inflaming and relieving him at the same time. The sensation was intensified when, without taking her mouth off his, Leia slid her hand past his waistband to grasp him directly. Gods. She slid his boxers down, and continued to move her hand in gentle yet firm strokes over his length. He got out of the shorts, and began pulling at the waistband of her tights for real this time— these had to go, now. Leia laid back on her elbows to let him, wiggling this way and that in order to assist in removing the clinging fabric. She had laughed at herself the first time he had seen her do this, breathlessly apologizing for the lack of grace, but he found the movement endearing and the legs it slowly exposed sexy as hells. He grabbed the leggings and pulled them off, yanking as they caught at her calf, taking the socks with them. He pulled a straggling sock all the way off. He had made sure her underwear ( his underwear) came off too, and now that she lay uncovered before him, he took a moment to drink her in as he sat back on his heels.

There she was before him, in obvious anticipation, her hair in stunning disarray around her. He rubbed a hand over her foot, and she gave a throaty laugh.

“Is this your signature move?” she asked. He looked at her questioningly.

“You grab an extremity—” she wiggled her toes in emphasis, “—massage it a little bit, and then make your move?”

Han chuckled, deepening his caress as he leaned forward slightly. “I’ll show you a move.”

“Oh, really?” Leia arched a brow.

He lifted her leg, and pressed his lips with ardor into her sole. She burst into a peal of laughter, her nose wrinkling, sitting up and making a half-hearted attempt to reclaim her leg as he ardently peppered her foot with kisses.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Ewww!” she exclaimed.

“Your Royal Highness,” he quipped, “it is tradition for us peasants to kiss your feet, is it not?” And he sucked on a toe, sending her into a shriek.

“You’re going to try to kiss me with those lips later!” she objected through her laughter.

“You let me kiss you everywhere else,” he said meaningfully, resuming the foot-rub.

“It is not the same,” she said.

“C’mon, that feels good. Admit it.” Han pressed a kiss to her inner ankle, running his hand slowly back and forth on the her calf. Leia, her face still radiating joy, laid back again on her elbows and eyed him in amused anticipation. He met her eye as he placed slow, deliberate kisses from her ankle to her calf and up her thighs. As he got closer to the crux of her, he gently caught her skin between his teeth in the way he was growing to know she liked, then smoothed his bites over again with kisses. Leia took a deep inhalation as he slid his upper body firmly between her legs.

This was where he most wanted to be in the galaxy. He reached a palm out to rub circles over the alluring dark curls between her legs. It wasn’t his plan to start with his hand, but he couldn’t resist touching her. Han looked up the length of her body, appreciating the incredible vantage point. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, the heady scent of her sending a fresh rush of blood to his groin, and began laying chaste— if you could call them that— kisses on her outer folds. His princess laid back.

“Valle Bey tia bel,” he murmured into her, and he hoped she could sense how much he meant it. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long time. He found her wet when he placed his forefingers inside her, the warmth of her overwhelming, and though the natural slickness was sufficient he licked his fingers to show her what he thought of her body before he spread her lips to tease his tongue over her. He was rewarded by a gentle drag of her nails over his scalp. He placed light licks around her clit before running his tongue downwards to find a rhythm in her velvet center. “Princess,” he sighed, “valle gusho tia guld.” She tasted uniquely like her, a subtle, sweet tang that was already indelibly imprinted on him, associated with her body and all the things she did to him. Her hips rose up to meet his mouth as she clenched his hair in her hands. An Oh emanated from deep in her belly.

Now he was getting somewhere.

Han could feel the heat from her smooth thighs on the sides of his face as she tensed her legs in pleasure. He again ran his tongue way up to her clit, kissing her firmly but gently, circular rhythm repeating. He held onto her where her hips met her thighs now, keeping her steady as he fervently continued. Her moans grew deeper and more constant, increasing his own ache for her. He felt Leia’s hands cover his for a moment. That was new. His heart jolted as she accepted the clasp of his hands. She whimpered under him, and he let go of his right hand to secure her body as he increased his speed. He kept his left hand firmly in hers.

He felt Leia pitch forward from the waist up, with a sharp intake of breath, and she squeezed his hand tighter. A brief glance upwards confirmed all was well. Her eyelids were fluttering, a look of concentrated bliss on her features her brow knit. She exhaled in an Oh. Fuck, she was so wet. “Tio Bey decshra, karelul.” That’s right, darling.

She was close now, and he was throbbing for her.

He felt her lean back again with a gasping inhale, followed breathy exhale that started in the back of her throat and ended in a bit-back string of constants: Hah-nnnn. He fell off his rhythm, stumbling for a moment. That damned muscle located between his lungs skittering in his chest at the mere suggestion that he might have heard his own name.

She said his name in bed, of course. Han, you’re on my hair. He’d even gotten a Fuck me, Han, once, which almost counted and with which he had complied very enthusiastically— but it was never just Han. With his head between her thighs, how good was his hearing really anyway? She again breathed something low, her back arching, and he imagined her head tilting back in that way she had. He tried to recover his pace and cadence, and to out out of his mind the question of what she had said. Han had covered her whole body in Leias the first time they’d been together, whispering and moaning her name into her hair, her neck, her breasts, her thighs, as if to make up for every time he had substituted Your Worship. As if the whole of his feelings for her could be expressed in that one word: Leia. And she hadn’t seemed to be put off by his intensity— a worry that had pricked at the back of his mind, but damnit, he hadn’t gone to bed with her to hide how much he cared, and damned if she would think he saw her as just some generic, warm-blooded female who was holed up on his ship and available. She had responded to his caresses emphatically, revealing part after part of herself to him in the most literal ways, writhing with pleasure as she was now under his mouth. And when she’d gone down on him for the first time, her name had escaped his lips another hundred times. Wet heat and blinding white and Leia.

From her, he got that lovely head tilted back. Her letting him take her hair down and run his fingers through it. Her hips bucking up towards his. He got oh, yes, and there in their various forms, and the Alderaani name for their Goddess. Light moans and, then, those particular guttural moans that came from some place deep within. Her grabbing the pillow, clasping his hair, biting down on her own hand. Legs wrapping around his hips as she pulled him closer, sending him gasping. He was learning her body, learning how to get her there in all the different ways—fast and hard, slow and gentle, and a hundred combinations in between.

He took all her signs of sexual affection greedily. But he noticed what she held onto. It was a selfish desire, and he was trying not to ask more of her. She was giving him so much more of herself than he’d thought possible. So much more than he had a right to, considering that he had to leave. And she'd cried out for him in other ways too—nuzzled closer to him when she awoke from a bad dream, sometimes whispering his name into the dark to make sure he was there. Shouldn't that—being a source of safety for her, and one that she trusted to be between her legs in that most intimate of moments—be enough?

Regaining his pacing, Han removed his hand from hers to slip two fingers inside of her. He was rewarded with an Oh that emanated from her belly, followed by his name, ringing crystal clear through the bunk. Han. He groaned in response. Oh. Kest. She wrapped her knee over his shoulder.  Her legs went over his shoulders and he raised himself slightly, keeping a hand on her back. Han.

He suppressed an almost primal urge to cover her body with his, to slide into her, and press his lips into her neck and temple, and release himself completely to the feel and sound of Leia. He was hard, so fucking hard. Hearing her say his name only amplified his craving for her touch, for the frisson of her skin on his, her heat around him. He was pretty sure he could get her there if he could just last a few minutes— ordinarily not a problem, but he was so riled up. He might have, too, if she’d given him a different signal or if he was more familiar with this situation. But she’d given him no signals that she wanted to move onto another activity. This was working for her, and the idea of doing something to jeopardize his name rising from her pink lips kept him on task. He’d do anything to make her feel whatever she was feeling when she said his name like that. “Io, jes, Leia, ven Fho mi. Sweetheart.” Come for me.

His heart racing, he curled his fingers inside of her, again and again, his tongue winding circles around her clit. Her thighs trembled and her body tensed, her body shuddered, and he felt the sweet tightening of her around his finger. Once, twice, three pulses— he grit his teeth, his groin aching, hearing in his ears, Han .

He withdrew from her, caressing her hips and thighs instead. She was panting, eyes closed, writhing in aftershocks, her face still tense with focus on the sensation. The grip of pleasure hadn’t released her yet; it always took her a while to come down. He was still overcome by the eroticism of her and the excitement of her body’s responses to him. He exhaled, pressing his forehead to her glistening thigh, trying to calm down enough to manage the situation. Her breathing began to slow. A lump—emotion? desire?—rose in his throat as a thought came to him, hazy through his sexed-out brain, but clear enough.

He had no idea how she would react to the level of intimacy reached tonight, what level of conscious decision-making played a role or whether some more intimate/primal part of her had taken over. He pulled himself up towards her, groin still throbbing with desire, enveloping her in his arms, tucking her face into his neck so she wouldn’t have to look at him if she didn’t want to. She gave a low, sultry moan that he couldn’t decipher. He stroked her damp hair, pressing kisses to the top of her head, whispering Leia. Princess. Sweetheart . She wrapped her arms around his neck, much more tightly than usual, and he held her closer. It was not often that Han Solo was humbled, but he was suddenly conscious of how small he felt. He had wanted this more desperately than he had let himself admit, but now that it was real, there was a— not a panic, but a protectiveness seizing his heart. For the thousandth time in this trip. It seemed to get tighter every time and he wondered how much tighter it could get. He swallowed as he caressed her back.

Leia nuzzled him under his chin, and he shifted slightly. Her hand released his neck and moved down his chest, lower, lower. Before he had a chance to think clearly her deft hand was reaching for him. The jolt of her touch sent a shock of arousal back into him, and like the first time, he was overwhelmed by both the physical and psychological reality of her hand around his cock.

She began to run her hand down him, her thumb grazing him in just the right spot, and he gasped before choking out, “You don’t have to.” She stopped but didn’t fully take her hand off of him. He opened his eyes, and moved to see her face. She was looking at him with a calm expression that, while not open exactly, it wasn’t closed either, her eyes neutral but curious.

“Do you want me to?” There was confidence in her quiet voice.

He could still feel the heat of her palm on him, her breath on his neck and chin. He tried to consider, his blood pumping yes . She gave him a firm squeeze that sent his eyes back into his head, and when he opened them he found her biting her lip in what he knew to be an indication of desire. A moment of understanding passed between them and she slid her hand up him again, and then down, her soft lips skimming his neck, her tongue flicking in and out gently. She reached his earlobe, which she took between her teeth. Before long he was whimpering at her hands.  The cabin was filled with his groans of pleasure that, after everything he had been through tonight, verged almost on pain, mixed with Leia’s excited murmurs and sympathetic moans. He became aware that he was approaching that critical moment, another stroke, there was nothing he could do now, her breath again in his ear, almost imperceptible: Han. An exhilarating shudder took his whole body as, gasping, he pulsed into her hand. Water leaked from his eyes from the sheer intensity of the sensation that gripped him. He clenched his jaw as his head fell back. Her tiny body pressed against him with a steadiness that felt like the only thing that kept him from flying apart, her lips kisses into his neck.

They lay there, panting into each other in the dark. She withdrew enough to wipe her hand on a far-spot of the mattress before settling back into his embrace, tucked under his chin exactly as she had been before. He stroked her hair and listened as her breathing slowed to the rhythm of sleep, wondering what in the Galaxy could he ever give this tiny powerhouse of a woman.

Gods, he had to find a way to face Jabba— and get out of there alive.