A Journey of a Million Miles

by StatsGrandma57

Han and Leia's first carnal encounter. Smut warning. Takes place during ESB on the trip to Bespin.

A JOURNEY OF A MILLION MILES (REVISED)

(Leia's POV)

And then he kissed me.

Everyone has a moment in their lives where things change forever.

I always expected that mine would be related to my work.

Instead, it was a scoundrel. A scoundrel who gently took my hand in his, leaned in towards me and said in his soft, low, gravely voice, 'you like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life.'

He had me dead to rights.

I told him I liked nice men. He said, 'I'm a nice man.' I started to say, 'No, you're not,' but he had his mouth pressed to mine by then. I then realized I had gotten in over my head in a way I had never anticipated.

It was the most terrifying - and wonderful - thing I'd ever experienced.

I should probably have thanked Threepio for interrupting us, but right now, I want to deactivate him. Permanently. I would think a protocol and etiquette droid would have programmed into it some sensibilities related to timing.

We're now on our way to Bespin. At sublight, it's going to take a week. I'll be in close quarters with this man for 7 standard days and nights.

I have no idea how I'm going to handle this. We've kissed a few times since then, but it's only been kisses. Chaste ones at that. Nothing about Han Solo surprised me more than that. I expected that he would try to move too fast and I'd push him away, but instead he's...dare I say respectful?

He knows I'm inexperienced and I know he's not. He's definitely a man with a past. He doesn't brag about it. But you can tell. You'd have to be dead not to notice. Everything about him oozes sexuality. He's at his sexiest when he's not even trying. Watching him work on the ship, cooking a meal, the most innocent of tasks makes me look at him with a passion that is not serving me well.

I'm supposed to be fighting for freedom from the Galactic Empire. I need all my strength for it. I don't need distractions.

I almost wish he was still taunting me. I'd have a good reason to avoid him. Instead, he's actually...really nice. That was the most surprising thing of all. He's been caring and considerate, not pressuring me into anything.

If he was, I'd be pushing back on it. But it appears that that Rubicon has been crossed, and there's no return. It would appear that Han Solo is a human after all. A human that engages in less than respectable activites. His past behavior has us trying to ditch every bounty hunter in the galaxy.

I always wondered what made him stick around for a war that wasn't his. Now I'm thinking...was it me?

Oh gods, I don't know if I can handle that responsibility. If he stayed around for me, what if I disappoint him? What if he decides I'm not who he thinks I am?

Lately, that question of 'what am I?' has been surfacing a lot, especially in the last 48 standard hours. Who am I? Where do I belong?

I feel as if Han should contain a warning label: 'Caution: deadly when kissed. Will conjure up every emotion imaginable.' Oh, and has he ever done that.

I'm a decade younger than this man. I remember the day he told me, 'you've been so busy being a princess, you haven't learned how to be a woman.'

He was right about that, too. I feel like I'm just a little kid in the love department. I've never been focused on the personal in my life. Till now.

Fact is, I've had a massive crush on him since he helped Luke destroy the Death Star in the Battle of Yavin. It was obvious that this arrogant, smug, mercenary bastard had more depth to him than I'd have imagined.

And he can dance. The night of the victory celebration at Yavin, he asked me to dance with him. I was taught the basics - I was living as royalty, and they try to teach you to dance - but I'd never done it beyond lessons. I was always clumsy on my feet. I'd learned to shoot with the best sharpshooters in the galaxy, but the coordination for that didn't translate into moving in time with music.

I was a little bit intoxicated, and I was going to say no to Han. But then, he smiled at me in a way that wouldn't allow me to refuse. I told him I wasn't a good dancer. He told me to just follow his lead. I still stepped on his boots twice, but he was kind and encouraging, assuring me I was doing fine. Of course, he'd been drinking with the same abandon as everyone else, but he seemed pretty steady to me.

He scared me half to death. And the reason was that while we were dancing, I was imagining...well, taking the dance further. Which, I told myself, was utterly ridiculous. Even worse, I had the impression he wanted to take it further as well.

I ran to my quarters, telling myself it was the alcohol talking. But, as it turned out, I felt the same way about him when I was stone cold sober. I felt sick, knowing he'd be on his way soon. He had made that very clear. I told myself that it was for the best.

But he stuck around and proved to be an invaluable asset to our efforts. He was a natural leader. He got people to do things using his sense of humor instead of ordering them about. People liked him and respected him.

Believe me, not everyone liked or respected me. I didn't have to assume anything; in a closed society of any kind, gossip spreads faster than a supernova and is just as brutal. I knew the names people called me. Let's just say they involved ice references and worse.

I continued to fantasize about Han Solo. And from what I gather, he was the only one who never joined in when coming up with new references to me. He hung back on that one. Of course, the one thing that distinguishes Han from many others is that he's no backstabber. He prefers to kill you to your face. And oh, did he ever. I don't think we went a day without managing to insult each other at least several times.

This continued when I was not able to get to my transport from Hoth. He got me out on the infamous bucket of bolts he calls a ship. That was the beginning of our now embarked upon course to Bespin. It was the only safe port Han could think of that could be gotten to in a fairly short period of time. Apparently, he's got a friend there that he goes way back with, although from what he's described, I'm not sure that this person is really a friend, at least if Han's description is accurate.

This is a mess, I told myself. I've just created an emotional disaster at a time in my life when I need to be very rational.

So now what?

"Hey, you're awfully quiet." That voice splits my reverie down the middle. I'm embarrassed, somehow. I've been sitting in the lounge with my thoughts.

I don't know what to say.

"Nothing wrong with being quiet." Han comes over, leans down and kisses my forehead gently, as one would kiss a child. "I'm gonna make some dinner."

"Care for some help?" I ask him. Which is ridiculous; I'm useless in the kitchen. We had servants; one of the skills I was never instructed in was food prepartion. I've been living on military rations for several years now. I barely even think about what I eat anymore.

"I'm good, thanks. I'm not saying that the Food Holos will approve, but it beats ration bars," Han says. Not that that's difficult. "We didn't exactly have time to restock the pantry, so it's gonna be whatever I can throw together. Provisions are something we gotta get at Bespin."

We. I notice his use of the word 'we.' It seems to just naturally flow out of him. It says to me he's thinking of us as a couple.

Oh gods, and he cooks. I'm not sure how well he cooks, of course. That remains to be seen.

I decide to follow him to the small kitchen area.

"Want something to drink?" he asks as he chops root vegetables.

"Uh...sure."

"We've got wine, beer, ale and a few asteria waters left."

Asteria water is a treat from my homeworld. I can't remember the last time I had one. Where does this guy shop?

"I'll take an asteria water." I can't believe how shaky my voice sounds. He hands me one from the small cooler and pops it open for me.

"Drink up." I notice he's working on a Bothan ale. I've seen him drink before many times, but he seems to hold his intoxicants well. I sip my water, which tastes like heaven to me, and watch as he adds water and spices to the pot. He then chops a small chunk of meat and tosses it in.

"What spices are those?" I ask.

"Tomo-spice and cantabar. Popular on Alderaan." I wince at the sound of my home planet.

"What's Corellian food like?" I ask timidly.

He turns and grins at me. "Nerf grease pretty much covers it."

That smile melts me.

"You okay, Leia?"

He uses my name, and says it gently.

"I'm fine."

"You've got something on your mind."

I do, but I don't really care to share it with him. It's somehow very embarrassing. Especially since I'm staring at his very attractive ass. It's quite something.

Face it, I tell myself, he's a good looking guy. He's tall, he's muscular, he's got great hair and beautiful green and amber eyes. Who wouldn't want to look?

"This has to simmer a while," he announces. "C'mon up to the flight deck if you feel like it. Right now, we're not dodging enemy traffic, so enjoy the smooth ride while it lasts. Chewie's going on his dinner break, and we both know it's a not a pretty picture."

I follow him, not knowing what to say or do.

I am really out of my league right now.

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I get into the copilot's seat.

"It's nice to just fly, not have to worry about Imperial fighters on our tail every second." Of course, we're far from anything, so I'm hoping for no emergencies.

"It's a relief," I confess. Why am I so tense? My palms are sweating.

He breaks the silence easily. "So how'd you become a senator when most kids are still going blind in the 'fresher?"

I almost choked on my water. He flashed her that lopsided boyish grin I couldn't resist - and he knew I couldn't.

"Well, my father was the Viceroy. He wasn't a Jedi, but he was very close to many of them and espoused many of their principles. He was very much loved by the people of Alderaan. There was never any question of my entering politics and public life."

"What about boyfriends?"

"I...I never had one." Oh gods, this is so embarrassing. I feel myself blush hot and red.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," he assures me. "Really."

"You've had women before."

"Yes, and I thank all of them for the lessons they taught me. Gods only know where they all are, and I like it that way."

He studies my face, but it's not with his piercing stare; it's rather a gentle expression. He turns to me and places his hand on my cheek. I unconsciously put my hand over his.

"Han...I know you have to leave soon."

"No, I don't."

"But you said..."

He leans in a little closer, and his voice becomes very soft and deep and soothing. "I said a lot of things."

"What about the bounty hunters?"

"The bounty hunters can go to hell."

I don't know what to say.

I want this man so badly I could scream it, in a most un-princess like fashion. But I'm terrified, too. Can I trust him?

I don't know. I want to.

"Leia." He says my name. There's no mockery in his voice. It's simple and soft.

This time I raise my eyes to his.

Is it possible that Han Solo is...being vulnerable? That look in his eyes isn't the one of the utter confidence he normally exudes.

"Yes?" I whisper.

"I want you. I really do. But I won't go any faster than you're comfortable with." He leans over and kisses me gently.

I'm blushing because I've been thinking about little else. I wrap my arms around his neck, tingling from the touch of his lips, his scent, the feel of his skin, the softness of his hair. He puts me on sensory overload. So this is what a real man feels like.

A real man who's treating me with respect and kindness. Who knew what kind of package one would come in?

"Chewie'll be back up soon," Han said. I know that Chewie can pound down a meal very quickly, and in quantities that would make one's eyeballs burst. "Then, let's have some dinner."

"Captain, are you asking me for a date?" I ask him quietly, and I smile. I begin to relax.

"I believe I am," Han said, kissing me again.

Chewie emerges from the lounge, and he's brushed his teeth. Wookiee bad breath will kill armies. I think we should bottle it and use it on the Emperor's minions. I am grateful for his consideration.

"Shall we?" Han offers his arm, and I slip mine through his.

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I sit down at the holochess table. Han sweeps the pieces off, and they protest loudly.

The soup he's made smells delicious. I haven't had anything but ration bars and mess hall concoctions in so long that I didn't realize how much I missed good food. I grew up taking it for granted. I'm going to bet Han didn't.

He puts a tarp over the table, old and faded but clean. He's got cloth pieces for serviettes, and the flatware is old and cheap, as are the dishes, but never have I felt like such a royal guest.

I'm surprised when he pulls out some candles.

"Atmosphere," he explains, smiling.

I can't help but smile.

"Now this impresses me," I say, relaxing more.

"What, you weren't impressed when I got us through the asteroid field?" The boyish grin reappears.

"I was impressed, all right. If being totally terrified constitutes being impressed."

"Yeah, well, you weren't the only one." He smiles and pours soup into a bowl in front of me. "I have flatbread, but I thought I'd save that for breakfast."

"This is fine," I tell him, and I mean it. I inhale the fragrance.

He grabs a bottle of wine. It's Rodian wine, a red.

"Not exactly what I'd call a great vintage, but it's drinkable," Han promises. "I don't even know your favorite wine."

"I'm not much of a drinker," I confess. "But if I had to choose, Emera would probably top my list."

"A princess with good taste. Actually, I'm not a connoiseur. I'll drink something if it tastes good. Which is not necessarily the same as having good taste." He raises his glass and I mine. "To the start of something beautiful," he says, and I echo him, timidly.

I take a bite of soup. It's delicious. It's not fancy, but it's tasty in a very basic way, the sort of soup that would be considered comfort food on Alderaan. Or anywhere, really.

"You outdid yourself," I tell him, and I take a sip of wine. It's not bad. I have to remind myself to go easy on it; I'm a lightweight in more ways than one.

"It's not hard to make. I'm glad you like it." He digs in with gusto.

I want to ask him about his family, what his life was like when he was younger, but I've always had the sense that he did not like going near that particular subject.

"Where did you learn to cook?" I ask him.

"When I was a slave, there was the Wookiee Dewlanna. She was the master chef and the closest thing I ever had to a mom. She taught me to cook. She also died protecting me." His eyes cloud over a bit. I don't think he wants to take this further. "I miss her."

"I miss my father," I say to him. "I know what you mean. My three crazy aunts, now, they're another story." I laugh, and I'm not giggling nervously.

"Three crazy aunts? Maybe there are advantages to being orphaned." He sips some more wine.

"There was nothing my aunts approved of that I did. While my father was grooming me for public service, they were trying to make me marriageable to this prince and that playboy. I told my father I would never submit to an arranged marriage, but my aunts didn't take it seriously. Marriages among royals are political alliances, not love matches."

"Sounds like fun," Han says sarcastically. I actually find some of his sarcasm endearing.

"I was NEVER going to get married, not that way."

"So what would your old man think of me?" Han's grin was back, those amber and green eyes sparkling mischievously.

"He would think I'd lost my mind."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought." We both laugh. I'm still being stingy with the wine; if I'm going to try to take this relationship further, I don't want to regret it in the morning. Being drunk is not my idea of being amorous.

"What if you had a daughter who brought home a guy like you?" I tease.

"She'd never bring a guy like me home. In fact, she'd never bring ANY guy home at all. Ever."

I laugh, and only then do I realize what I just said - and how he answered.

It just came out. But we're laughing and it's as if it was perfectly natural.

"And what if you had sons?" he asks me between bites of soup.

"I'd tell them to respect women and not to acquire sexually transmitted diseases." He cracks up.

"Condemned to life in the 'fresher." Han is actually amused. "To be fair, I spent...oh, never mind!"

I love watching him laugh. It's infectious.

"You never played Spin the Bottle?" he asks me.

"What's that?"

He's probably thinking, this has to be the most naive woman in the galaxy. But he's not mocking me.

"It's where you have both sexes, usually of the same species, but you can do it interspecies. You spin the bottle twice, at a guy and a girl, and they have to kiss each other. You keep going around in a circle till everyone's kissed, or until your lips wear out, whatever comes first."

"I guess we couldn't play it very well here, seeing as there're only 2 of us."

"Sure we could. We'd just end up kissing every turn."

"Unless Chewie plays."

"You do not want that to happen. Trust me on this."

"I know, he's got Wookiee breath, even though he cleans it up as much as he can."

"That's 'cause you're here. You think he'd do that for me?"

"I don't know. I just had this vision of you and Chewie sitting around, you in your underwear, drinking a beer and watching smashball."

He laughs raucously. "You've thought about me in my underwear?"

"Well, not..." I'm blushing again. "I didn't mean..."

"Relax, Princess. You're not that far off the mark. But I wouldn't do it with a lady present."

"You wouldn't?"

"No, I'd have my underwear off."

I spit wine through my nose and I probably match the color of it.

I'm surprised that through all of this, I'd finished my soup, as did Han. What's even more amazing is that we're both still on our first glasses of wine.

"Let me help you clean up," I offer.

"Not much to do, really. Sit, relax. We've got about two hours and then Chewie's got the night shift." Granted, it is difficult in deep space to distinguish night from day, but the chronometer tracks it.

"He doesn't sleep a lot, does he?"

"Not usually, Wookiees don't need as much as humans. I'm used to not getting very much myself. Smuggling means traveling at all kinds of weird hours."

"I can't even remember when I had my last decent night of sleep." I'm not kidding, either. It's been that long. I live on about half the recommended amount, as does everyone in the Rebellion. You can tell everyone is sleep deprived, because our conversations revolve around it. That, and the urge for good food and, if you're Rogue Squadron, sex. Sex happens a lot; this surprised me when I first became part of the military, but then again, it's wartime, and people do what they can to feel normal. There always seems to be time for parties, and pranks, and card games, and what Rogue Squadron calls the horizontal bop. I never participate, mostly because I'm never invited.

I'm not sure what normal feels like anymore. I'm not even sure I knew what it was to begin with. I think back to being a little girl, and I remember the days when Winter and I were free to just play. Those days were few and far between.

If I ever have kids...

STOP, I tell myself. You don't have a maternal bone in your body, and you're thinking about KIDS? Are you crazy?

That's the second time the subject of kids has come up tonight, although this time, I don't voice it.

Besides, I've never even slept with the man. And I'm not sure I should.

But I want to. Something that I've never known about inside me is being very adamant about this.

We finish the dishes and head back to the cockpit. Chewie says he's going to take a nap. It's just Han and me.

We were so relaxed over dinner, but it feels weird to be back on duty.

Han looks over at my legs. I'm so short that I can't touch the rudder pedals. My legs go about half way down the foot wells.

"I modified 'em for Chewie," he explains. "I'll find a way so that you can reach 'em."

He's talking about modifying his beloved Falcon.

And I'm so turned on just sitting in the copilot's seat that it isn't funny. I want this man. And he is a man, not some silly boy.

He relaxes and takes my left hand in his right. "I washed my hands," he says to me, winking.

"So did I." I smile back at him, with no effort.

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We hold hands and don't speak a great deal while Chewie naps. To my surprise, Han Solo, Galactic Loudmouth, is very much at ease with silence. What's even more surprising is that I feel relaxed this way.

Chewie almost shocks us as he lumbers into the cockpit. He can be surprisingly soft footed.

He looks at us and makes a comment that I don't understand.

"Jealous?" Han says to him, grinning.

Chewie's response is something along the lines of, get out of here already.

"We're going, we're going," Han says, offering me his arm.

Han Solo being a gentleman is a new experience. And a delightful one.

But we're back in his quarters. I have no idea what sleeping arrangements we're going to have.

I want to be with him, having him sleep by my side. But I want him in a way that's so primeval, so basic, and so deep.

"You can have the bunk," he tells me.

"Where are you going to sleep?" I ask him, and suddenly I feel awkward again.

He stands in front of me, and kisses my forehead. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not you want to share my bed."

I'm scared but excited. "I'd like that."

He draws me into his arms and kisses my lips. He has incredibly soft lips. You don't think of anything being soft on Han Solo, but his hair is one area that is. The other is his mouth, and he's being very tender with me there. I could kiss him all night.

He pulls me closer. "Leia, I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to."

"I know that." It's as if I feel the blood rushing to my head and I can hear my heart pounding. I have a feeling he knows it, too. He's close enough that...well, he's hard. I did take health classes in school, but having this really happening is very...tantalizing and terrifying.

"I don't have any experience with this," I whisper to him.

"Well, I'd love to be the one that gives you some," he says, in that quiet, husky, extremely sexy voice.

"I don't even know what to do."

"You will." He leans over and ever so softly kisses my neck. I shudder with pleasure.

I should be afraid, but somehow, I'm not. Han is holding me. I expected things to be awkward, but it's not like that at all. It's comfortable and exciting at the same time.

"If you don't like something, tell me," Han rasps to me.

I'm too busy feeling wonderful to answer. He unhooks one of the buttons of my snow suit from Hoth and kisses the skin on my collarbone. I gasp for air.

"You like that," he rumbles softly, and does more of the same. He has a touch like a feather and at the same time, he's got me gathered into his arms and making me feel secure. He's so much taller than I am, but it's not a deterrent in the least.

I lean my head against his chest as he slips a hand under my shirt and makes tiny circles on my back. I feel like the body electric. His heart is beating as fast as mine is, and his breathing is hard. I feel his warmth through the fabric of his shirt. He's beginning to sweat and so am I. His increased body heat is giving off the scent I notice on him all the time, but it's orders of magnitude more intense. Everything about him is overpowering.

My aunts used to tell me that my first time with a man would be awkward and painful. Clearly, they never had a real man like Han. I should be embarrassed, but I'm not. I want to know how to make love.

"Getting warm in here," he whispers to me. "I'd like to take my shirt off."

"Please." I take my hands to the buttons and begin unfastening them. My hands are unsteady but he's patient and is feeling further up my back, toying at the back of my bra. I want him to unfasten it, but first, I want to finish him. I unhook the last button and it falls to the floor. I lean against his chest. It's muscular but the skin is soft and his chest hairs are baby fine. I lean against it, breathing in his scent, and touching the hairs. He gasps for breath as I do this. I think he likes it. I want to touch every inch of it. I dare myself to kiss his nipples. When I do this, his breath catches in his throat.

"You're wonderful," he tells me. His hand is on my bra hooks. "May I?"

"Please." I actually want to open up to him, to show him what I am. I want to show him how badly I want him.

I was so busy being a princess...and now I feel like a woman.

He's unfastening the snaps to my snowsuit top. I love the way his hands feel on me. He has large hands, but they're graceful. I've seen him wield tools and pilot his ship. I love the feel of his hands on me. They're roughened from working with his hands, but he plays me like music. Soon, my jacket, my camisole and my bra are pooled on the floor. We press naked skin to naked skin. Nothing has ever felt so good, so real, so true - and so right.

He lowers me gently on to the bunk. I want him. All of him.

I look to unfasten his pants. He's on top of me and I can feel his very large erection. He smiles blissfully as I work the rest of his clothing off.

"You sure you've never done this before?" he says, smiling happily.

He begins removing the rest of my clothes, very slowly, very gently. It's not long before we're both naked as the day we were born.

"You have the softest skin," Han breathes. We're lying side by side at the moment. I run my hands over his skin, with its silky fine body hair. I do it very slowly. I want to feel each and every centimeter of him. We explore each other, taking our time, getting to know what our bodies want. I find that Han has some sensitive spots that drive him wild.

He places his chest against mine. We kiss. Our tongues tease each others.' I feel myself wanting more and more of him. He kisses me, soft kisses, all over my shoulders and neck and he moves his mouth around my nipple on one breast.

"Let me know if you don't like something I do," he says softly. His mouth begins exploring my breasts, and he takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking, nipping gently, using his tongue. I cry out as if I'm letting go of gravity.

"More," I beg him. He seems only too happy to oblige. He plants more kisses on them, and his thumb runs beneath the underside of whichever nipple he's not taking care of. I whimper and moan and cry out.

"You are so beautiful," he says in the sexiest voice I've ever heard him use. He kisses my abdomen and all the way down to my curls, and his hands follow tenderly.

"I want to do something, but tell me if it's uncomfortable," he says.

I trust him. He slides a finger inside my vagina, very gently. I am a bit nervous about this, but I needn't have been; he is helping me to relax in that area.

"You're so wet." That I am.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Oh, it's very, very good." I don't want him to stop. He seems to instinctively know what I'll like, even if I'm not sure.

I want to make him feel as good as he's making me. I'm not sure how, but I have some ideas. I massage his shoulders, and the expression reads bliss. I listen to him sigh in contentment.

"That's so good," he murmurs. I can believe he could use some help in that area. I've been dying to rub his shoulders when he's been piloting for hours on end, especially after we've outrun an attacker, but I've been worried he would consider it an invasion of personal space. I'm going to remember to do that, even when we're fully clothed. But right now, having him naked on half on top of me is better than I ever imagined it would be. He's sweating and I kiss him, marveling at the salt taste of his skin. Everything about this man is electric. He's raw and powerful and at the same time, so gentle, so patient. Every way I touch him, he responds.

"You have really tender hands," he whispers to me. He touches me everywhere, even my toes. I never knew having my feet massaged would feel so lovely.

"You've got nice ones yourself," I say, dreamily letting him excite me in every way possible.

He rolls gently on top of me, holding himself up on his elbows. He returns to my breasts and belly, and I'm shivering with pleasure.

I want him, and I want him to take me all the way.

I gaze into his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and he gazes upon me with the same love I feel for him. Just having him on top of me brings me to ecstasy. He's propped up on his elbows, letting me move freely.

I want him. I want all of him.

"Hold on a second," Han says to me. He reaches under the bunk. I've been so eager to be with him that I didn't even think of protection. But he's prepared, and asks me to slip it on him. It's thin and I'm not too sure of myself, but I do it, and he shivers while I do. He's rock hard and he's clearly trying to keep from coming in too fast.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he rasps at me.

"I am."

"If you're uncomfortable at any time, tell me, and I'll stop or try something else."

I open my legs, ready to receive him. We kiss deeply, our breathing ragged, our desires unmasked. His face is near mine, and we kiss, gently at first, more strongly as we go.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Yes."

I'm a bit nervous that it will hurt, but he isn't in a hurry, and I feel him just barely penetrating me at first. He's taking his time, running his fingers through my hair.

"Do you want me to go further?"

I barely get out a 'yes' and feel a sudden burst of ecstasy. I'm writhing amidst a shower of dark blue and silver sparkles. He's barely inside of me and I feel a giant wave of pleasure, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips, holding him there.

He moves very slowly, much further into me, until I can no longer tell where I end and he begins. My hands run down his back. We have a gentle rocking motion which intensifies, heightening both of our pleasure.

"I'm gonna come, Leia," he says, and I feel him shudder and moan, the expression on his face one of complete ecstasy. I follow him, everything becomes dreamlike, as if we're floating.

He moves gently off of me, lying next to me, our arms around each other, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow and his breathing becoming softer and more regular. He plays with my hair and runs his thumb along my cheek. Words fail us right now. I feel as if we're suffused with golden light surrounding us.

Han looks at me in a way I've never been looked at before. Despite the fact that he's just established that he's totally a man, he looks like a little boy, his eyes half open, a soft smile crossing his lips. I kiss him.

"Are you tired?" he asks me.

"Yes. In fact, I think you wore me out," I say, my hand on his now stubbly cheek.

"Good," he says. "That's how it's supposed to work."

I have a feeling that we will both sleep well tonight.

We have become what I never imagined we could. We've ended up as lovers.

It was a million miles to get to where we are. I have a feeling that we have many millions more to go. I'm ready for the ride, so long as Han Solo is there to travel with me.