Greater Than the Sum
By Justine Graham
A/N...written for erindarroch, my smut-loving partner in crime and all around incredible person, whose adoration of every little part of HF (OMG! Thighs!) makes me grin like a loon, and inspired this bit of fluff. Happy Birthday, my a-mazing friend. Mmmwah!
Many thanks to the incomparable Cicatrick for the beta. I appreciate it so very much!
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It was Han's wrist, of all things, that captured Leia's attention first.
Sitting cross-legged on the deck in the Falcon's aft engineering bay, she found her gaze inexplicably drawn to the motion of Han's slim wrist as he reached into the open access panel once more to tug at something deep within the housing of the shield generator. Mesmerized by what she saw, she unfurled her limbs, shifted her hips and leaned back against the bulkhead, allowing her eyes to drift over him as he worked. She watched as he wrenched a small part free, and then pinched it between thumb and forefinger and held it up to scrutinize it under the glow of the overhead lights, turning it this way and that to gauge the extent of any damage. Stars above, but he had beautiful wrists; she couldn't seem to tear herself away. Was it possible that being besotted with a man's wrists was an actual thing?
Then, with a surly grunt and an equally dour scowl, he dropped the scrap of metal to the deck where it skipped and bounced and rattled to a noisy stop with the others that lay scattered in a wide circle at his feet. It was fast becoming obvious that this was not going to be the simple fix that Han was hoping for when the Falcon's trio of occupants had met to discuss the day's duty roster over kaffe at the beginning of that day-cycle.
Now twelve days into the trip, and with life support, navigation, and long range sensors restored, they unanimously agreed that bringing the shield generators up to full capacity should be given the next highest priority. Although he didn't anticipate the generator would require much effort to restore it to full functionality, Han asked Leia to assist, citing the need for a second set of hands to expedite the task. As soon as the words had left Han's lips, Chewbacca's snort of laughter had them both leveling curious stares in the Wookiee's direction. Although Leia's understanding of Shyriiwook was still patchy, she was certain that the series of animated barks and yips that followed translated to good-natured taunting that their idea of work over the last several days included far too much groping and heavy breathing, and not enough actual work. Having the two of them assigned to the job, he laughed, was more likely to extend the time required to fix the generator, not speed things up.
Leia had focused her attention on her kaffe then, trying without success to suppress a smile while Han slanted Chewie a hot glare, but didn't bother to challenge his co-pilot's astute observations. It was a point that couldn't be argued: in the eight days since they had finally disclosed their true feelings to one another, the floodgates of their long-denied desires stood wide open, and all too often such collaborative attempts at repairs resulted in precisely none of the assigned work being completed. Though he was clearly thrilled that his best friend and the spirited Alderaani princess had, at long last, ceased their incessant attempts at denial and acknowledged the truth that was in their hearts, Chewie nonetheless seemed to delight in pointing out the shortcomings of these joint efforts at every possible opportunity.
With a menacing glower, Han reminded his friend that whether it took one day to exact repairs, or two, or ten, was of little consequence. They had nothing but time, and with the crucial systems back online they could afford to take their time with the rest. Besides, any of the repairs that they couldn't manage to complete enroute were sure to be addressed once they reached Bespin at the end of their eighty-eight day journey.
Seventy-six days, now. How quickly life could change, Leia mused, and how strange that what had started out as feeling like so much time now felt like so little.
Neither of them had talked much about the subject of what would happen on the other side of this unplanned voyage. Only one thing was certain: though his reasons for doing so were honorable, Han was leaving. Anything beyond that—including his solemn vow to return to her, if the fates allowed—was speculation that Leia banished from her everyday thoughts, relegated only to those sleepless moments in the darkness of their shared cabin. There, with the enveloping silence broken only by the quiet hum of the engines and the steady rise and fall of Han's breathing, the sobering reality of what lie ahead wriggled its way in, making her heart ache with the pain of his eventual loss. She made a conscious decision to push those feelings to the back of her mind for now, choosing instead to revel fully in each moment they had, deliriously happy and content just to be together for as long as they could—even if it meant simply being in his orbit like this, while he attended to his ailing ship.
As her eyes traveled over Han's lean frame from top to bottom, she couldn't help but smile. From his feet with their curiously long toes to his perpetually scruffy hair and everything in between, he was hers, every bit of him, for the next seventy-six days.
She watched as Han heaved a heavy sigh, and with a shake of his head he set about the tedious business of examining the lengths of transducer cabling that spilled out of the gap and trailed down the bulkhead to coil on the deck. A look of intense concentration settled over him then, and Leia's attention shifted to the movement of his hands. She had always found his hands wildly attractive, and secretly loved to steal glances at them every chance she could. But there was something even more fascinating about them now, knowing what else those broad hands and nimble fingers were capable of.
Her vivid memory of their shared passion was enough to fan the flame of desire that smoldered at her core, still burning from the last time they tumbled together into their bunk only hours before. But now, something about the way his clever hands moved with such precision, his deft fingers seeming to have intrinsic knowledge of exactly where to go and what to do while his keen eyes gauged every subtle response...the entire scene suddenly struck her as strangely erotic. She couldn't help but see the similarities: intensely focused on a singular goal, his hands skimmed over the inner workings of the Falcon with a reverent touch, moving in the same slow and deliberate manner in which they roamed every centim of her bare skin. They explored, mapped, and studied, all with the same gentle, fluid caress that she knew could take her to heights of sensation she had previously believed existed only in her wildest dreams, and every slight articulation of his long, beautiful fingers sent a tiny thrum of desire through to her limbs. The sight was magnetizing, holding her rapt in a state of pulse quickening, spellbound amazement.
Spellbound, that was, until Han stepped back from the access panel to swipe the back of one of those bewitching hands across his sweat-dampened brow. He raked his long fingers through his tousled hair, and then stood with one hand on his hip, rubbing at his delightfully stubbled chin with the other as if he were pondering some great mystery to be solved within the tangle of wires and cables before him. That was when the open neck of his shirt allowed for a tempting peek at the dusting of the dark hair on his chest, and the sharp angles of his collar bones that met at the delicious little hollow at the base of his throat. That took her focus away from his hands, and starting her contemplating the musky, masculine scent of him that filled her senses when she pressed her lips to that irresistible little notch, how the tiniest flick of her tongue just there at precisely the right moment could elicit the most exquisite moan, and the way that soft hair tickled her nose when she buried her face against his chest in a hopeless attempt to muffle her own.
While those beguiling images flickered through her mind, Han stepped forward again and reached up to pull at the exposed length of relay wiring that dangled from the open strip of paneling overhead, and his shirt rode up just a little on one side to expose a tantalizing sliver of bare skin above his hip. It was enough to send her veering off into thoughts of how his body seemed to fit perfectly between her parted thighs, and the way that narrow strip of flesh felt beneath her hands when they gripped his hips, seeking to quicken the tempo of his measured strokes to drive her over the edge. After that, as he knelt to the deck to retrieve his discarded hydrospanner, her gaze ventured to his thighs. She drew her bottom lip through her teeth as her pulse quickened, her body recalling the frissons of anticipation that rippled through her at the snap of his holster's tie-down giving way to her searching fingertips, the delicious feeling of soft skin and the flex of lean muscle beneath her hands when he moved inside her, skimming down his back and over that smooth, firm...
"...asking you something, Princess. Did you hear a word I said?"
"Huh?" Leia gave a mild start, jolted to awareness to find her vision focused not on Han's figure in the near-distance, but at his battered and worn spacer's boots planted squarely in front of her on the deck. She lifted her gaze to track upwards over his long, lanky form; head cocked to one side and hands on hips, his tall frame towered above her, gazing down with a curious sparkle in his changeable eyes. She wasn't sure how much time she'd lost to reverie, but she hadn't heard him speak, much less noticed that he'd stepped away from the panel to close the distance between them.
"I said, 'throw me the voltage indicator'," Han repeated, gesturing toward the oblong chromium device at her side. "Three times. I was startin' to think you fell asleep sittin' up, or changed your mind about helping me, after all." There was a mirthful tone in that rich baritone voice, and the corner of his mouth lifted into that insanely sexy half-smile, threatening to plunge her straight back into the divine depths of her fantasies.
Leia dropped her gaze away from his face, coming to rest on the tangle of wires, connectors, and relays that were strewn halfway across her lap and spilled over onto the deck. She felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks, alongside a mild stab of embarrassment. She was meant to be lending a hand; yet here she sat, taking leave of her senses to drift away in the meanderings of fanciful thought when she was supposed to be dismantling this mess of spare parts into usable components.
"But now, I'm thinkin'...". Han crouched down, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet with his elbows resting on his wide-spread knees and his hands clasped loosely between them. He dipped his head low, catching her eye with a playful expression on his handsome face. "...now I'm thinkin', maybe it's just you got something else on your mind besides work."
Han's deep voice carried a teasing lilt, and she averted her eyes once more before he could witness the blush that flooded her cheeks in earnest. But the knowing, slightly smug smile she saw before she turned away hinted that Han had already ascertained precisely what that something else was.
Focusing her attention back on her forgotten task, Leia cleared her throat delicately. "Sorry," she murmured, straightening her posture while pulling the knotted mass back into her lap. "I got…distracted."
"Leave it."
Leia froze. Goddess, but she knew that tone: dark and rich, and as smooth as Dramassian silk. She blinked and lifted her gaze to meet his. Han's eyes had darkened, too, taking on that hungry look she had come to know intimately over the last eight days, the one that sent a shudder of longing racing down the length of her spine and tripped her pulse into high gear.
Flashing another disarming smile, Han straightened to his full height and then, his eyes locked on hers, he bent and extended his hand in a silent directive of his wish. She took his proffered hand, sweeping the pile of junk from her lap with the other as he helped her to her feet. As soon as she had pulled herself upright, Han kicked the mess aside and wrapped her in his strong embrace, nudging her gently backward until the warm, delicious weight of his body pressed hers against the hard surface of the bulkhead behind them.
"But the generator…" Leia offered in weak protest, her hands already tugging his shirt free to glide up his back. Her eyes were drawn to the curve of his full lips, and she felt a new surge of heat angle straight for her core as her body responded to her brain's reminder of just what that sensual mouth could do.
"Ain't goin' anywhere," Han concluded, diving down to trail his lips along the slope of her neck, and then back again to nip at a sensitive earlobe. "Thing is," he drawled, edging back to meet her gaze with a wink and a little shrug, "I'm a little distracted, myself."
Leia gave a soft snort of laughter and then sighed as she reached up to wind her arms around his neck. "You do realize," she smiled, stretching up to press heated kisses along the rough underside of that perfectly stubbled jaw, "there'll be no living with Chewie if we don't actually accomplish something this time."
"Leave the big furball to me. And we're gonna finish this job," Han grinned, his hands sliding down to grip her hips and pull her closer. "It's just gonna be...a little bit behind schedule."
Leia arched a questioning eyebrow. Affecting her best neutral expression, she slipped a teasing hand between them, smiling inwardly at his sharp intake of breath. "Only a little?" she ventured.
Han's answering laugh became a deep groan that rumbled in his chest. "On second thought…," he corrected as he bent to capture her lips in a deep and promising kiss, "...make that a lot."
