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Sweet Escape

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“Thanks for the rescue,” Han Solo said as he leaned back against the pilot’s seat headrest. He closed his eyes and sighed. After the crowded ballroom, he was in no hurry to head into the Coruscant traffic. Claustrophobic at the best of times, it was even worse during what was known on the interplanetary hub as the “holiday season.” 

“Well, I am the one who got us into that situation.” Leia Organa smiled wryly as she tucked her skirt around her. Her seat was pushed back as far back as it could go but still didn’t leave enough room for the gown’s billowing folds. While Han liked taking his small sports speeder out when it was just the two of them, this arrangement didn’t always agree with the fashion demands of his high-ranking official of a wife. 

He thought his wife should have looked a bit more ridiculous with the taffeta poofing up around her. But the shimmering silver of her skirt, fluffed up against the fitted midnight blue bodice, almost made it look like she was sitting on a cloud of stars. Her regal posture made this seem like a natural state of things; Leia could make anything look as if it were a matter of course. Han had a feeling that, despite her assurances that the dress actually contained small crystals sewn into the fabric, there was still going to be a hell’s worth of glitter on his seats tomorrow. He didn’t really care. 

“You may have gotten us into this one, but yesterday was me,” Han said. “Why I scheduled the company party the day before your state shindig, I’ll never know.”

“Because every other weekend evening was full.” Leia reached down into her cloud of skirt and pulled off her silver-starred shoes.  

“You’re too important,” Han said accusingly.

“And you couldn’t leave early yesterday,” Leia gestured at him with a high-heel, “because you can’t leave early when you’re the boss.” She tossed the pair into the back seat. 

Han put his hands behind his head. 

“Do you want me to drive?” Leia asked.

“Nah, just takin’ a minute,” Han said.  Leia stretched her legs out in front of her, or so Han guessed from her posture; he couldn’t really tell under that skirt. “Were there this many parties last year?” Han asked. 

“It feels like more somehow, doesn’t it?” Leia said. 

It hadn’t been the easiest year. Han had started a new shipping company and was getting used to a whole new kind of administrative duties. Leia had had a health scare that, thank the deities, had turned out to be nothing. Their eldest, Jaina, had started junior high. This had brought its own dramas that Leia insisted were quite normal and even healthy, but which had bewildered Han. And both of them were getting older. They had a lot of fight in them yet, but Han was starting to feel it. 

“I don’t want to do a damn thing for Galactic New Year,” Han said. 

“Fine by me,” Leia said. “I think Jaina is going to spend it with her friends though.” 

Han nodded his assent. “Do you think the twins are still young enough to want to build a fort?”

“I’m still young enough to want to build a fort. Just cocoon for a little while.” Leia nestled into his side, resting her head against Han’s shoulder. “Remember that time the droids flooded my chamber on Hoth? And you built me a mini-fort on the Falcon while they cleaned it up?”

“You said the pillows and blankets were probably diseased,” Han said. 

Leia snorted. “Well, you did get them out of the lost and found!” 

“Our forces were very well-vaccinated and well-screened. We had exceptionally low rates of STIs,” Han said.

“That’s true, General. But it was more the principle of the thing,” Leia said.

“I did wash them,” Han pointed out.

“Yes, you told me.” Leia lazily ran her arm up Han’s and squeezed his bicep gently. “I didn’t say so at the time, but it was awfully cozy in there. And sweet of you.”  

“I’m very sweet.” Han whispered in her ear, and then pressed his mouth to her temple in a slow but chaste kiss.

“Mmm, you are,” Leia agreed.

Han pulled away from the kiss, but removed his arm from Leia’s to put it around her. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

“It’s our secret.” Leia placed her hand on his chest and moved her fingers upwards to his shirt collar. She pulled the collar aside to press a soft kiss against the base of his neck. She rubbed her nose upwards against him until she reached his earlobe, where she placed another kiss, equally gentle. Soft skin touching soft skin. 

Han felt his blood begin to flow downwards but he was content for the moment to simply hold his wife. He lifted his hand to brush his fingers lightly through her hair. Tonight it lay long against her back. Eight twisting strands diverged from a single, central braid—the nine branches of the Alderaanian festival of lights’ candelabrum. Han found he loved the gray bands now interwoven with Leia’s rich chestnut. She liked to laugh that it made her look weathered, but Han didn’t think there was anything wrong with that; it made him think of strength and of sturdiness, like the bark of a tree that only grew fuller and more deep-rooted with time. He pressed his face to her hair and breathed her in. 

“It’s nice, just sittin’ in the quiet with you,” Han said.

“Mmm-hmm.” Leia agreed. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Really wanna know?” he asked.

“I really wanna know.” 

“I was thinking how few of these people I can stand.”

Leia laughed and poked her husband in the ribs. “I thought that was getting better!” 

Han flinched and grabbed her hand, grinning broadly. “I don’t mean it how it sounded.” 

“You get along very well with quite a few of them!” 

“Yeah, sure,” Han said. Leia narrowed her eyes at him, though they gleamed with good humor. He kissed her hand as if to soothe her attack. This only made her mouth twitch up in skepticism. Han added, “It’s not like I hate ‘em. I don’t even really dislike ‘em.” Han ran his free hand over his face. “I’m just," Han sighed, "bored.” 

Leia smiled at her husband. He was authentic, she had to give him that. But that authenticity could mean that he had little patience for the ordinary parts of living and working that didn’t interest him or serve an immediate purpose. 

“I can understand that,” Leia said, wrestling her hand away from his. 

“Never thought I’d say this, either—I love the kids, but I am sick of talking about them.” 

Leia feigned shock. “Of our precious angels?”

“Yes, the ones who exploded the microwave on the Falcon last week trying to see if the Force could help the noodles cook faster.”

“You just don’t like that you can’t tell the ‘good stories,’ ” Leia used her free hand to make one air quote. 

Han snorted. “That’s exactly right, though. These people wanna know about what they’re doing, their accomplishments . Accomplishments, kriff, the twins are ten! It’s like when people try to trot you out and show you off, too. It’s not about who the kids are, who you are.”

“It’s very superficial.” 

“Yeah.”

“And no one wants to hear about freighter maintenance.” 

“That’s the worst part of it.” He grabbed her hair and gave it a little tug. “Makes me happy that I have you, though.”  

“You have so many of these events because you have me.”

“Yeah, maybe. But there’s bantha shit everywhere. Fancy bantha shit at least comes with better food and a lower chance of gettin’ shot at.” Han turned serious for a moment. “People think you saved me from a life runnin’ for criminals and runnin’ from criminals.” Leia opened her mouth to protest the idea that she had saved him, but he put a finger to her lips. “An’ you did.” He removed it. “But, havin’ someone I don’t get tired of, someone who tolerates all of my bantha shit—that’s it’s own kind of miracle, don’t you think?”

Leia toyed again with the idea of protesting that she had saved him, and had hardly opened her lips again when Han stopped her. “Ah,” he said, replacing his finger against her lips. He did not need the Force to read her like a hand of Sabacc. She sent him her best I could argue with you if I wanted look. He smirked back at her. 

“I do think so.” Leia opened Han’s collar further, running her hands over his collarbone. She caught his bottom lip between her own, enjoying the velvet softness of an unhurried kiss. Their mouths moved together for several languid moments, lips sipping lightly on each other. When they parted, Han took Leia’s face in his hands, nuzzling her. “See,” she said, fluttering her lashes against his cheek. “We fit perfectly together.”

“You’re damned right we do.” Han kissed her again, greedy now and open-mouthed. His left hand moved to grasp the hair at the nape of her neck; his right slipped down her back to press her more firmly against his chest. Leia’s arms encircled his neck. She shuddered as her tongue slid against his.

At this angle, they could not get close enough for Leia’s taste; she couldn’t feel all of him. It was close enough, however, for a jolt of desire—so familiar, yet so immediate and demanding—to surge through her. When they had left the party, she had been dead on her feet and had sworn she was going to crawl into bed first thing when she got home. But she was not home yet. And she wanted him. 

Breaking the kiss, she threw her head back and sighed in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” Han asked. 

“You are never gonna get through all this fabric, hotshot,” Leia said, running her nails up and down his neck, just the way he liked it. The dress had too many layers; the speeder was too small. Adventurous though Leia might be, and as much as she appreciated the speeder’s tinted windows, she was not about to undress completely in the parking lot of the New Republic’s Interplanetary Gardens. 

“Oh, yeah?” His hands found her waist, then drifted down to her hips.

“Yeah,” she echoed. 

“That a challenge?”  Han gathered the fabric at her hips in his hands, and Leia was not completely certain whether he was tugging at it playfully or calculating the force required to rip it off. 

“It’s a fact.” She worked her way down from his neck to caress his shoulders. She couldn’t help touching him.

“‘M not willing to accept that without testin’ it,” Han said. He disentangled himself from her to survey the situation. “Hmmm, this is a puzzle.” 

“I told you,” Leia said. 

“What if—” Han finished his thought by pressing a button that sent the back of Leia’s seat reclining. 

Leia arched an eyebrow. When the seat was low enough, she slid herself backwards until her feet no longer touched the floor. She smoothed her skirt so that she could still see Han over it and propped herself up on her forearms. “You’ve still got to get to me, though.” 

Han eyed her hungrily for a moment. Then, in three quick jerks, his jacket was off. Leia enjoyed the way the black wool of the jacket gave way to the white cotton sleeves that clung to his arms. He caught her watching him and smirked. Han’s hand went to his wrist and he began to slowly, deliberately roll up his sleeve, making an elaborate show of revealing his wrist, then his forearm. Leia laughed at his display.  “That’s the worst strip-tease I’ve ever seen.”

“You love it though,” Han retorted confidently, repeating the gesture on the other arm. He knew her so well. 

He lifted himself out of the driver’s seat and gingerly stepped one foot onto the area in front of Leia’s seat. Given the excessive length of his limbs and the height of the speeder, he was practically crouching as he tested his weight and ability to fit. “Ha!” Han announced his victory as he pulled his other foot out from under his seat. In an instant, he was on his knees before her. 

Han licked his lips. “Let’s see,” he muttered, feeling his way through the swathes of fabric that hung off the seat until his hand closed around her bare foot. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.” He massaged her, soothing the strained muscles and tendons she had stood on for so many hours.

Leia thrust her foot forward to the front of his trousers. He straightened and pressed into her arch, his eyes closing involuntarily. He let out a low growl as she rubbed the hard length of him. Heat flared in her; she loved that guttural noise, and the warm promise that she stroked between his legs. 

“When was the last time we did this?” she asked, breathless.

“’Bout a week ago,” Han replied.

Leia smiled. Only a week—they had certainly gone longer than that in the twenty years they’d been together. But neither the recentness of their last union, nor their experience going without, diminished the urgency between them now. 

Han grabbed her ankle and dove between her legs. She closed her eyes as she felt his tongue trace her way up her thigh. That sense of want thrummed under Leia’s skin. She could feel it gathering, concentrating itself in her hot and wet center.

Han’s hands made their way to her hips. She lifted herself as he gripped her underwear and pulled. They did not come off evenly—there was some wiggling on her part, and yanking on his. Han made it worth her while with the way he ran his hands over her.

He moved back up her body. Leia gripped the seat in hot anticipation. But he surprised her by pressing kisses along the flat of her stomach, just below where her dress tapered at her waistline. Han was teasing her—purposely moving from her stomach to her hips, nibbling and licking her without quite getting to the heart of the matter. He palmed the area just below her stomach, just above where she really wanted him—no, needed him. She opened her eyes to see the shape of him moving under her dress. 

“Can you breathe down there?” she laughed, in spite of her arousal.  

Her skirts moved higher and Han’s head emerged, his mostly gray hair in disarray and a wicked grin on his face. “Breathin’ fine,” he panted. But he pushed her dress further to her waist. She bucked her hips upwards, wordlessly asking for what she wanted. 

Han pretended to consider. “I dunno, Princess,” he growled. “You been good this year?”

Good is a concept for your holiday, not mine,” Leia sniffed in faux arrogance. “Anyway, you like me naughty more than you like me nice.”

As if confirming her statement, Han’s mouth found what she had so desperately wanted. He sucked on her gently, ever so gently. Leia inhaled sharply. How could that feel so much like relief, and yet so much not? 

“I love the way you taste,” Han breathed into her cunt. He brought two fingers to his mouth before slipping them inside her. 

She met his movement with her hips, pressing herself against his palm. Stars burst behind her eyelids and pulsed between her thighs. Han returned to her clit, lightly swirling his tongue around her as he kept the rhythm with his fingers. The sweet increase in her need was almost unbearable. Her eyes watered and she bit down on her lip in an attempt to keep her moans low in the back of her throat. 

“My turn, hotshot,” Leia gasped, pulling away. 

“It’s been your turn this whole damned time,” He said, but his smile said that he knew exactly what she meant. 

“Come here,” she demanded. 

Han crawled onto the seat, fitting himself to her as he bent to kiss her on the lips. His thumb found her nipple through her dress, grazing circles across it as he massaged her breast. Leia reached down to unbutton his fly and slid his trousers down past his hips. He pushed her skirt further upwards and she lifted her back, allowing him to gather as much of the skirt as possible underneath her. He pressed his bare erection to her belly. She wrapped her legs around his hips to grind against him and he threw his head back in a sharp exhale. She swore she could feel the shock of pleasure as it rippled down his body. She wrapped herself tighter so that the base of him rubbed her in exactly the right way. 

Throbbing and unable to wait any longer, Leia turned him over—or rather, she pushed against him and they wordlessly rearranged themselves so that she sat astride Han. She licked her hand and reached between her legs to grasp his cock. She stroked his length, relishing her ability to elicit his own murmurs of escalating desire. 

Leia lifted herself and guided him into her. Han shuddered as she brought herself down onto him. She stayed there for a moment, savoring the sensation of his pubic bone against her clit, of him fully inside of her. This. What had she ever known that was better than this?

Then, with him still inside her, Leia slowly rolled her hips against Han. “Do you like that?” she whispered. He groaned in response, holding onto her ass as if for dear life. She repeated the motion with an ever greater effect. Seeing what she could do to Han threatened to bring her back to that fever pitch state too soon. Leia forced herself to take deep breaths, to go slower than her body was urging her.

It was tormentingly slow at first. But each movement brought a wave of sensation. They rode each wave out together, Han bucking with her, his pace matching hers. Leia could hear nothing but their ragged breathing and moans—one moment in perfect synchronicity, the next as if in call and response. His arms encircled her waist; he was solid beneath her. Her muscles clenched around him until she thought she couldn’t stand the sweet ache of it. 

Her body began to take over, setting its own rhythm. Faster, faster. The waves came faster too, each bloom of pleasure building on the last. Han’s movements were also becoming less controlled. His eyes tightened in complete concentration, his mouth open. She could feel how close he was. 

Leia’s nails dug into Han’s shoulders. Her thighs were shaking. She wasn’t ready to go over; just a bit longer. Another stroke. Another. 

Han’s rhythm broke and he cried out. Gods. Leia.

He spilled into her, his thrust exactly where she needed it most, sending her world blossoming into pink and white heat. For several pulsating moments, everything else dissolved. The galaxy was only her, Han, and sensation.

The sound of their breathing came back to her first. Then came the feel of the sweat that ran down her thighs and back, of hot already beginning to give way to cold. Leia became aware of the speeder. Han’s panting was starting to slow. He chuckled, still inside her, his tumescence fading but not yet gone. She smiled and gave him a little squeeze.

“Oh,” he said. “Sweetheart. That was—” 

“Yeah,” Leia beamed. “It was.” 

They began to giggle. He caught her face and pulled her down in a kiss, broken only a few times by their shared laughter. “Thanks again,” Han whispered, “for the rescue.”