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“Here you go, sweetheart.” Han hands Leia a glass of wine and she smiles up at him gratefully. He sits down next to her, inching his chair a little closer to hers, and looks out at the dark skyline. They’re sitting on the balcony of their new Chandrila apartment. New, in the sense that it's been barely lived in, even though it’s nearly two months since it was assigned to them by the New Republic.
They still have barely any furniture. Not even a bed, just a huge mattress that arrived a few days ago and lies on the floor of their empty bedroom, much to Luke’s chagrin.
(“At least it’s not a freaking water bed like yours, kid.”
“Water is luxurious, Han!”)
But between their various missions for the New Republic off world and the many meetings, debates and strategy sessions on Chandrila, they’ve been kept so busy they’ve barely had a moment to rest, let alone do much domestic work.
Han counts himself lucky that a good chunk of their work for the New Republic is still together (particularly anything that involves Leia doing something dangerous, because the idea of something happening to her after all this is just – )
It feels like a miracle that they’ve reached this moment at all. Amidst the chaos and war and destruction that they’ve fought through, to this moment of utter calm, together. Even with the war over and the New Republic taking its first shaky steps, there have been so many obstacles that could have pulled them apart. All the demands on their time (more so for Leia) and the expectations of what their life should look like (definitely more so for Leia), it could have been impossible for them to carve out space for each other. For their love.
But here they are, just a newlywed couple in their new apartment, sitting on their balcony on a Friday night with a glass of wine.
Han looks across at his wife, and sees her staring serenely out at the city. The moon is out in full, gazing down and illuminating her softly, with the twinkling city lights dappling brightly on top. The result is a soft, ethereal glow all around her, as if the night itself has chosen to shine a spotlight on just her.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispers. She smiles dotingly. He can’t see in the moonlight, but he can tell from her expression a faint blush is creeping onto her cheeks.
He needs to touch her, suddenly, and reaches for her instinctively, running a single finger gently up her forearm. He feels that familiar frisson of energy from that single touch, like an anchor connecting her to him. She is his anchor. She’s the centre of his world.
Leia continues to gaze calmly out at the city as he begins tracing his finger up and down her skin, but he can see between sips of her wine she’s smirking. He adds a second finger, grazing her lightly with his nails, and he sees her breath falter. She looks over at him, and there’s that smirk. She’s trying her hardest to reign it in, trying not to let him get to her so easily, but she can’t hold her smile in when there’s so much joy in the fact that he can.
“So beautiful,” he repeats.
Her smile becomes less smirking and more fond at that, and she makes the tiniest motion of her head that says come here.
Han moves off his chair and crouches on his knees before her. It’s almost reverent, the way he takes Leia’s hand in his, kissing the back of her palm, her wrist, her forearm, as he looks up at her. She gazes back down, her lips slightly parted. He can see how entranced he feels reflected back in her own eyes. A small sigh, a murmur of his name. A slow spell winding its way round her as he whispers his desire over her skin.
She puts her wine glass down.
Han could spend a lifetime doing this, just touching her, worshipping her, even if she never took a single thread of clothing off again. How could he ever get tired of this, his beautiful wife. His wife.
Han takes a single finger of Leia’s in his mouth, running his tongue down, scraping with his teeth, sucking at it coquettishly as he looks up at her. He can see the breath catching in her chest and – although he can’t tell exactly in the dim light – her hooded eyes makes him sure they must be darkening. They’re shifting, inexorably, into that plane between heaven and earth that only them and their love for each other inhabit.
Han takes another finger between his lips, sucking more heavily. It draws a small moan from Leia’s mouth, and her free hand grips at the loose fabric of her tunic. The sound rumbles somewhere deep in his chest, stirring the need to make her feel more, better, everything. His right hand moves from her knee to the inside of her thigh, pressing into her trousers and the skin underneath with the tips of his fingers. Another moan. He finally releases Leia’s fingers from her mouth, to a slight squeak, and settles both his hands firmly on the inside of Leia’s thighs, pushing them apart. Leia sinks down against the chair in anticipation, her hips bucking up just slightly to meet him.
“God, sweetheart,” he whispers, momentarily overwhelmed by the headiness of it all. He butts his nose lightly against her left knee, then nips gently at her. Leia jolts in response, and his hands grip instinctively harder against her thighs. He presses kisses along the most sensitive part of her leg, up towards Leia’s centre. The fabric barrier does nothing to dull the sensation, but just keeps him tantalisingly distant.
“Han,” she chokes as he presses his lips at the apex of her thighs. “Honey, please.” Han acquiesces, and moves his mouth between her legs. He runs his tongue flatly along her, pulling her towards him as he laps at her open-mouthed. The crotch of her trousers is getting wetter by the second.
“Oh... oohh,” Leia cries, writhing in her seat. One leg comes round to rest on Han’s back and pin him against her. Every movement drives Han wilder, and he attempts futilely to penetrate the fabric barrier with just his tongue alone. He breaks away, gasping, and looks up at her with wide eyes.
“Leia,” he says, from between her legs. “I need you.” It comes out like a prayer.
Leia takes a shaky breath, then says, in something of an order, “Bed. Now.”
There’s a split-second of an understanding exchanged between them, then Han wraps his arms around Leia and stands up, pulling her with him until he’s carrying her. She throws both her legs around his waist, and takes advantage of the sudden proximity to kiss him passionately.
They stumble, somehow, off the balcony and into their apartment. The emptiness works in their favour, as Han is able to manoeuvre them towards their new bedroom even with Leia intent on devouring his mouth. She bucks against him urgently, causing him to almost overbalance, and they slam against their doorframe. Han’s mouth falls from Leia’s to her neck, sucking desperately at her skin so hard he almost breaks it.
“Han,” Leia cries, pulling his hair painfully. He presses his hips against her, and almost collapses at the feeling of her warm body against his cock. He tries to work his hands under her tunic but it’s impossible whilst he’s pinning her against the doorframe.
“Too many… clothes,” Han gasps between kisses. Leia half-groans, half-murmurs something in response, and unpeels her legs from Han’s waist to slide down the doorframe until she’s standing. Han runs his hands down her side, dropping back down to his knees instantly. He pushes her tunic up and grasps urgently at the waistband of her pants, then tugs them along with her underwear smoothly down her legs.
“Fuck,” whispers Han.
The smell of Leia overcomes him instantly. It’s the best scent in the galaxy, like someone has captured the very essence of desire, of beauty, of home. Han’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment, and then he moves forward hungrily.
Leia’s legs buckle as his mouth meets her, licking deeply and uninhibitedly upwards.
“Oh god Han,” she cries.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, lapping at her pussy with fervour. His tongue slides deeply into her, his lips moving over hers hungrily. She tastes delicious, honey and salt and tang and something so distinctly Leia. And it’s for him, all for him. He’s the only one who will ever know what this tastes like. It feels like the greatest gift he could ever be honoured with.
She moves a leg over his shoulder to give him more access, but she can barely hold herself against the wall; her limbs feel so weak now. Han would rather die than break contact at this point, but when she almost wobbles over against his own shaky arms he pulls back instinctively to steady her.
“We gotta…” he says breathlessly.
“Yeah,” she agrees. She tugs at his hand, and they stumble – literally – into their bedroom, falling onto the single mattress that’s still laying slightly haphazardly in the middle of the room. Leia swings a trembling leg over Han’s body until she’s sitting atop his hips and looks down at him. Their hands tangle together, and they smile into each other in a sudden moment of breathless tenderness.
Leia leans down until long tendrils of hair are tickling Han’s cheeks. She kisses him softly, wet lips sliding against his. His hands glide down her waist to grab at her ass, and she rolls into him. Their kiss deepens then, Leia’s tongue slipping into Han’s mouth and eliciting a deep moan. He pulls at her tunic, trying to move it up her body, until Leia pulls back momentarily and they both tug it off her. Han’s hands run teasingly up her sides, somehow causing a shiver in Leia’s now scorching skin.
He looks at her with heavy eyes, and says with a small tilt of his chin, “I want to feel you.”
In one swift movement, he rolls them over until Leia is lying down on the mattress. Holding her gaze, he sits back on his knees to undo his shirt. She watches as his fingers work down the buttons, as he slides the sleeves off his arms and throws the shirt to the side. Then he stands up, raising an eyebrow just the tiniest amount, and undoes his pants. He doesn’t miss Leia’s lip disappearing between her teeth as he slides them down his legs, or the sharp intake of her breath as his underwear meets his pants on the floor.
“Han,” she sighs, and her legs spread open unconsciously. Han drops back down onto the mattress, crawling towards her. He keeps going until he’s hovering above her, and then they’re centimetres apart, gazing into each other and breathless with desire. He runs a hand up her side, curving his fingers over her breast, and makes a small noise of discontent as he realizes she’s still wearing a bralette. He shakes his head, and she smirks up at him.
“This definitely needs to come off,” he purrs.
“Roll over then,” Leia says, with a small gesture of her chin, and together they roll her on top of him. She perches just above his pelvis, stretching tall to pull the bralette up over her head. Han stares unashamedly, taking in her whole body displayed before him. Her long pale torso, her soft breasts with almost painfully taut nipples, the dark hair between her legs parting tantalisingly to reveal her glistening pussy underneath, the place where he was just moments before, and needs desperately to be again. He runs his hands up and over her thighs ‘til he’s tracing down the insides of them again, and she rocks against him.
“Get over here,” Han growls, tugging at her hips.
“Oh, you’re giving the orders now, are you, Captain Solo?” she asks huskily, raising an eyebrow. Her act is undone just a little bit by the fact that she’s rubbing herself wantonly against him, leaving a glistening sheen on his lower stomach. He glances down his torso at her, runs two fingers in between her warm, wet curls, then looks back up at her from under his eyelashes.
“Leia,” he says in a low voice. “Sweetheart.” Leia tenses against him as he rubs two fingers tightly against her clit. “Let me taste you.”
“Tell me what I taste like,” Leia gasps, rolling against his hand.
“God, you taste perfect,” whispers Han. “Hot and wet, like…” He’s struggling for anything more poetic whilst Leia is moving against him like this, not quite low enough for his cock and still nowhere near his mouth. “Like syrup, an’ salt, an’… like fucking heaven, sweetheart. Like I could cum just thinking about it.”
Leia looks him dead in the eye at that, and the depth in her expression makes his heart skip a beat just for a moment. He knows his words, clumsy as they are, drive her to a place no touch alone can, but it still takes his breath away every time. She leans forward, placing her hands on the mattress next to his head, and moves her knees up until she’s hovering tantalizing over his mouth.
“Fuck,” Han says. She smells so good. “Come ‘ere.”
She doesn’t hesitate this time, just sinks down onto him with a sigh. She’s so hot and swollen from desire that the moment he runs his tongue along her clit she screams, bucking her hips against him. His hands come to the tops of her thighs, digging in to anchor her as he returns to her pussy with abandon. The entire world disappears around him as he becomes single-mindedly focused on his task. All he can feel is the desperately wet flesh under his tongue, the bristle of hair against his nose, the soft skin of her inner thighs against his cheeks. He’s surrounded by the echoes of Leia’s cries in his ears and the sweet, sweet taste as he consumes her.
“Han,” Leia cries, sinking down against him. “Han, fuck. Fuck, that’s so good.”
She leans back to open herself up further to him, resting her hands on his chest. She arches back with another cry as he sucks hard on her clit, rolling his tongue against her, and he distantly feels the tickle of her long hair against his torso. He knows she’s starting to fall apart from how hard she writhes against him, her shaking body desperately seeking contact as the drive to orgasm starts to take over her. Her legs are gripped tight around his upper body and she’s rocking so hard against him it pushes them towards the edge of the mattress, and Han feels his leg slip over the side. It knocks Leia off balance for a split-second, and Han wraps his arms around her waist in response. His foot presses against the floor in a futile attempt to keep his body steady, and he completely ignores the cramp that appears in his desperation to make Leia cum. His hands lock together tightly around her as she shakes, holding her to his mouth so he can roll his tongue over her just… there.
Leia wails, arching into him, and he feels her pussy pulse around his mouth. His whole body surges with joy and desire as she loses herself in pleasure, the orgasm taking over her until she’s lost to the world. He holds onto her as tightly as he can whilst she rides out the crest, until she pushes his mouth away and slides down onto his chest.
Han gazes up at her shaking body, glistening with sweat, red marks dotted all over her chest and neck, her long hair a mess and her parted lips bruised and swollen. She looks absolutely wild.
“Oh my god,” Leia says shakily. She peels open her eyes to look down at him, and smiles breathlessly at the expression on Han’s face. Then, as if she’s no longer able to hold the weight of her own body, she leans over to her side and collapses back against the mattress, her head coming to rest tantalizingly near Han’s cock.
(Which, he notices suddenly, is almost painfully hard.)
“Oh my god,” Leia repeats softly.
“I told you you were beautiful,” Han says, rubbing a thumb softly on her shin. He wishes her face was a little closer to his right now, but he doesn’t have the strength to move much more than she does.
“I love you,” Leia whispers, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “So. Much.”
“I love you too,” he says softly. “Especially when you look like you do right now.”
“And how’s that?” Leia asks, looking up at him with a wicked grin.
Han smirks.
“Fucked,” he mouths.
Leia giggles against his thigh. She presses another kiss there before moving slowly, tantalisingly towards his cock.
“You know what? ” she says, pressing a kiss at its base. Han moans softly with want.
“What, sweetheart?” he croaks. Leia’s hand finds him, finally, and the sound that slips out of his lips is one he prays no one other than her ever hears.
“I think that’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing for myself.”