Don't Wanna
Wedge rolled over, wrapping an arm around his wife. He buried his face in her hair and waited for sleep to take him again.
A sharp elbow to his ribs interrupted this plan. "Ow," he grumbled sleepily, tightening his hold.
"Wedge, let go!" Another jab made him groan.
"Don't wanna." He pulled her closer, bringing his other arm around her as well.
The resulting stream of Old Corellian invective had him raising his head to stare at the woman in his arms. "That wasn't very nice."
Iella glared at him. "Husband, dearest, you will let me go right now, or I will break both your arms."
He blinked at her slowly, taken aback by her soft yet fierce tone. 'I really do not want to test her resolve right now.' He released and sighed as she vanished into the refresher. 'I just wanted to cuddle,' he thought forlornly as he burrowed into her pillow.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was a hand running gently through his hair. His eyes flickered open to find Iella seated beside him, showered and dressed. The expression on her face was an odd mix of exasperation and tenderness.
She sighed as she looked down at him. "How can you make me feel so guilty without even saying a word?"
Wedge mumbled incoherently as he curled around to settle his head in her lap, still feeling hazy with sleep. "Is a gift," he finally managed.
Iella snorted quietly. "You know, you could often almost pass for some mild-mannered Alderaanian – but comments like that remind everyone that you're as Corellian as Han Solo and Corran Horn.
Wedge wrapped both arms around her waist and snuggled even closer. "But with nicer hair."
"Much nicer, husband – do you know how many women would kill for hair this fine?"
"On me or them?"
Her laugh made him smile. "Both, probably. Though there are a lot of other things to kill for about you."
He felt himself blush; even after nearly three years of marriage, compliments could still make him shy. "You more than me, my love."
"I'm glad you think so." She kissed the top of his head. "So, I take it I'm forgiven?"
"Course you're forgiven." He caught one hand and placed a light kiss on her palm.
"Good." She jostled him with her knee. "Time to get up then."
"Don't wanna." He hid his face in her lap.
"Wedge," she growled. "Get your head out of there." She nudged him with her knee again, much harder this time.
"Don't wanna," he mumbled, grinning. "Ow! Stop hitting me!" He rolled onto his back, rubbing the side of his head.
"Stop being difficult!"
"Love, I was born difficult. Hey! Enough with the hitting!" He grabbed her arms and pulled her down far enough to capture her lips with his.
She sighed against his mouth as he deepened the kiss, and her hands moved over his chest; fingertips tracing his muscles, fingernails lightly scratching the contours. He nibbled her lower lip, making her moan – then she suddenly sat upright. "Enough, Antilles. I – Hey!"
Wedge twisted to the side, took a firm hold of her thighs and pulled her down the bed till they were face-to-face. He covered her lips with his, even as he covered her body with his, hands making swift work of her shirt fastenings.
Iella sat up on her elbows, trying to look stern – but her cheeks were flushed and desire was clear in her eyes. "Wedge, we both have to get to work," she said breathlessly.
He pushed her back down into the mattress, kissing her forcefully. "Don't wanna," he growled, and worked his way down her neck then back up the other side. She whimpered when he nipped at her earlobe. "You really want me to stop; you go ahead and make me."
Iella shifted under him, cradling his body, and her strong hands drew his face back around for a searing kiss. "Don't wanna."