Summary: Han & Leia attend a reception and Han is reminded of earlier times. His memories compel him to recapture a bit of their history. Adult fic. Rated M for a reason.
A/N: This is a response to a challenge I received over at HSP. Thanks, Aeyla, for the challenge and thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Scarlet.
Han pulled at his collar until finally giving in and releasing first one and then a second button on his stiff, white shirt. He hated it when Leia made him wear his dress clothes and he knew that it irritated her to no end that he still fought it after all these years. To that end, he felt it evidence of his triumph in this arena that he still only owned three such outfits. He didn't really understand why he even owned three… the other two were practically identical to the one he was currently wearing although he had to admit that this one was dark blue unlike the black of the other two.
He crossed the living room floor a few more times before pausing to remove his dress jacket. He glanced at the chrono on the wall next to the holoviewer and cursed under his breath. They were going to be late or, if they were extremely lucky, just barely on time. At least, he had already taken the kids to Chewie's suite for the night. Once Leia was finished dressing, they could immediately be on their way.
Not that he really cared if they went at all. In the past three months, it seemed as if they had gone to one of these dinners nearly every week. And with all of those dinners intruding on Leia's already congested schedule, it had been rare for their family to find the time to share a dinner together any more than once a week. If he was in a better mood, he might actually find some humour in the fact that they managed to dine with complete strangers while dressed in these uncomfortable clothes as often as they ate together as a family.
To add to his anticipated discomfort for the evening, Leia had not been in the best of moods when she had finally come home. Her meetings had run late - as usual - and she had run into their apartment, breathless from her effort to make up the lost time. Even now, he could imagine her madly trying to do five things at once… applying her make-up while sliding into her dress and twisting the lengths of her hair.
Well, okay, maybe just three things at once.
That added stress wouldn't do much to improve her mood. Of course, it hadn't helped much that she had arrived to find him lounging on their sofa in his tank and boxers. He still didn't understand why she was angry about that and had told her as much. It wasn't as if it would take him anywhere near the length of time to get ready as it would take her. His adding that he wouldn't be the reason that they were late had nearly pushed her final buttons. Somehow though, she had reined herself in and had stomped off wordlessly into their bedroom. His hopes for gleaning any pleasure from this evening were decidedly slim.
"Han," he turned slowly as she called his name, not immediately picking up the exasperation in her voice. "Why aren't you ready yet?"
Damn! I should've timed the jacket better. She's getting better at this whole dressing up thing.
"I'm ready," he answered, grimacing as he pulled the stiff jacket back on.
"You're shirt's not even buttoned," she admonished as she approached, her nimble fingers quickly erasing the last of the comfort he had found.
"C'mon, you have to admit that it looks better the other way. You used to like looking at my chest," he teased.
"I'm not saying that I don't now," she answered in the tone of voice that she usually reserved for explaining things to their children. "But this is not the appropriate occasion for you to show off your finely developed chest."
"Right, but apparently it's the right time for you to show off yours."
"Never mind," she laughed and swatted him playfully, moving by him and heading out the apartment door.
He followed her, shaking his head as he did. There was a time when a dress like that and a conversation like this would not have been followed by a trip to a turbo-lift. That time seemed so long ago and he wondered briefly what had happened to change it all.
Life. Life happened.
He smiled slightly, just the slight lifting of the one side of his mouth and he knew that the expression came less from amusement than regret. Following Leia to the lift, the regret faded from his grin as he watched her hips sway beneath the pale blue of her dress. The dress was an interesting marriage of styles as the front of it followed closely along the curves of her figure; it began at her collarbone, hugged her breasts and hips until the skirt grew more generous from just above her knees until it pooled on the floor. Her arms and shoulders were bared and sheer fabric in the same colour fell from her shoulders, hanging loosely down her back where it was gathered just above her backside. The material billowed slightly as she strode toward the lift, offering him the occasional glimpse of her bare back as the two pieces parted.
He slowed, taking the time to admire the curve of her back and to remember the feel of her cheeks in his hands.
When was the last time I felt her body beneath my hands?
"Han, hurry up," she called from the lift, chasing the question from his mind before he could find an answer. He quickly closed the distance that he had allowed to grow between them. As he stood beside her on the lift, he searched his memory for the reason for this evening's event. He didn't want to rile her any further by letting her know that he had forgotten.
Cartaons. Trade and the Cartaons.
The night's dinner was serving as a welcome reception for the delegation from the Prackla Sector - mainly the Cartaons. He felt a small measure of relief that his memory had not failed him this time. An intimate dinner with just a few thousand attendees. In truth, it was an exercise that the New Republic frequently used in an attempt to put visiting delegates at ease. A bit of revelry before the more stressful business began in the days that followed. If the number of receptions that he had been attending with Leia was any indication, the Republic's recruiting efforts were finding more and more success.
As the lift plunged them past countless floors without interruption, Han was able to slip a quick glance at his companion for the evening. She was standing rigidly at his side, colour in her cheeks and he could easily imagine the tapping of her right foot beneath the puddle of her dress. Based on these quick observations, he knew that she was going to have a hard time transitioning into her role of diplomat / politician / gracious host. He could almost hear the thoughts that were still racing through her head.
I should have ended the meeting earlier. I shouldn't have scheduled it at all. I should have slipped home for lunch because now I won't be able to see the kids until dinner tomorrow. I should have asked Luke to teach me how to bend the space-time continuum so I could miraculously be in two places at once. Hey, why stop at two, why not make it three or four. After all, I do have a husband that I haven't spent an evening alone with in more weeks than I care to note.
Okay, so maybe those thoughts weren't exactly what was running through her head, but he knew that she was angry - at herself, at him, at the galaxy and the fact that she couldn't control it. Either way, if he didn't try to chase those thoughts from her mind, their return trip wouldn't be much better than this one. Her mind would instead be filled with anger about whatever she might have done wrong or could have done better and would have if she hadn't let the stress of her schedule carry over into their dinner.
He slipped closer to her until their arms barely touched.
"You know," he bridged the silence softly. "No one will ever know that you only spent twenty minutes getting ready."
He detected the slightest easing of her posture; a barely discernable shift of her shoulders that would be missed by anyone except the man who had spent the better part of the last decade focussed on every nuance of her movement. He found the sign encouraging.
"You look beautiful."
He had added the compliment to help relax her further, but hadn't done so without meaning it. She did. The years and their children and her work seemed to have left little evidence on her outward appearance. She still looked so much like the girl he had nearly hurled down a garbage chute so long ago. On the other hand, he saw every year that had passed since then reflected in his own appearance as the fine lines at the corner of his eyes grew less fine and the white hairs that had taken residence at his temples seemed to be expanding their living quarters daily.
"Thank you," she interrupted his thoughts, her voice soft and genuine. "You clean up pretty well, too, flyboy."
The doors opened as they arrived at the proper floor and Han held his arm out with a flourish. She laughed as she took the exit he offered, turning and waiting for him to join her as they headed to the walkway that would bring them to the ballroom.
"Now, you be on your best behaviour, Han," Leia advised him as the walkway moved them past numerous doors and hallways. "The Cartaons are the key to the Prackla Sector and we've all worked very hard to get them to become official members of the New Republic."
The tone of her voice reminded him of all the speeches she had given their children before any of the various visits and outings they had taken. He fought the urge to laugh as he pictured one of them imitating her or winking at him or studiously smothering a grin as they pretended to listen while a glass of water hovered over her head. He knew that he shouldn't encourage their antics, but it was hard when he knew that if he had had the ability to use the force, he would have been doing exactly the same thing. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have force sensitive Solo's.
They reached the end of the walkway drawing an end to Han's musings and he returned his thoughts back to the task at hand. The doors to the ballroom were still open, indicating that they weren't as late as either of them had feared. Within he saw that most of the beings were already seated or were moving in the general direction of the tables. This was why he hated being late for these things. He didn't care a bit about what anyone thought - although he knew that Leia did - and he didn't want to spend a single moment more than he had to pretending that he wanted to be there. But, by arriving 'just-in-time', he wouldn't get the opportunity to talk to any of his friends - the people whose company he actually enjoyed. At functions like this, Mon Mothma always ensured that all of the key figures of the New Republic were dispersed throughout the crowd. That meant that he and Leia would be seated at one table, Luke at another, Wedge at yet another still, and so on. Instead of the evening being an excuse to reminisce with old friends, it was spent entertaining strangers, fulfilling the role of Coruscant's gracious hosts.
Taking his position at Leia's side, Han placed his hand gently at her back and guided her into the darkened room. He preferred entering these functions in this manner; if she took his arm then it looked as if he lead her and diminished her authority in some of the less progressive societies' eyes. If she walked in on her own, with him trailing behind, it diminished his authority and, more importantly, their relationship. This way, they entered as equals, both important players on a winning team.
Leia lead them deftly through the crowd, following a meandering path that seemed to lack a specific destination. He knew the truth of their travels though - that she was leading them along a quick, indirect route to their table, striving to create an air of nonchalance at the timing of their arrival. But as they wound their way through the tables and the couples and the politicians, Han found himself a little more than distracted by the feel of her soft skin as his fingers found their way beneath the fabric of her dress and traced the line of her spine.
A blur of nameless figureheads passed and finally they were seated at their designated table. Introductions were completed and Han obligingly filled the empty glasses that were raised to his offer of wine. Still distracted, he sat next to his wife and listened half-heartedly as she worked her magic on the men and women seated with them.
When was the last time I felt her body beneath my hands?
He struggled with the answer to his question as he contemplated the dark liquid in his glass. Finally, a hazy, sleep-filled memory of a hasty coupling in the darkness of the night answered his question.
Nearly a full month now. When did we get to the point where a full month can pass without sex and I barely notice the absence?
He turned sideways to look upon his wife, appreciating the faint blush that the wine had brought to her cheeks. The feel of her silky skin still burned his fingertips and he wrapped them around the glass to resist the urge to reach out and stroke her exposed arm. She was acting on her best behaviour - at her most charming - and the low music of her voice hummed over him.
It was the ribbon that laced through her braid that reminded him. This wasn't the first time she had worn this dress although many years had passed since he had last seen her in it. The New Republic had been new - may not have even been fully formed into the initial structure of the government that it had become. Leia hadn't had to speak at that event then, either, but was to serve the Republic as she did tonight - by arguing their cause under the guise of casual conversation.
He remembered arriving at her quarters to escort her to dinner. They had still been upholding the pretence of a traditional courtship even though their hearts had been married ever since the day the Emperor had died. The door had slid open and she had stood before him and he had never laid eyes on a more beautiful creature in his life.
"Are you ready, Captain?" she asked and in answer, he had simply slipped through the doorway, closing the small space between them. In seconds, their bodies were pressed together and their lips met in a fervent kiss. His hand slid through the fabric at her back, quickly finding the bare skin it covered and pressed her more firmly against him. The hand that had briefly tipped her chin up for access caressed her neck and then tangled in her hair. Despite their early morning exercise and lunch time rendezvous, he felt a familiar tightening in his groin. Leia shifted her hips encouragingly and he ground his erection more firmly against her.
"Han, we have to go," she breathed when their lips parted briefly.
"I know," he answered, before tasting her again.
"Han, would you like some soup?"
"Huh?"
Leia's voice had invaded his thoughts and he took a moment to gather himself, embarrassed at having become so lost in the memory. He wordlessly accepted the soup and took a quick sip of his wine with his free hand. His other hand had somehow found its way to the bare skin of her back and was stroking it slowly. Whether the feel of her skin or the remembered feel of her in his arms was responsible, there was a definite discomfort growing under the waist of his pants.
When was the last time that I got hard with just the thought of making love to her?
Back when they had been playing at taking their relationship slow, it had taken little more than a smile by Leia and he was pulling her into a darkened corner or an empty room. And, he hadn't had to pull her too hard. She would put up her usual restraints - for a good show and a good conscience - telling him that they really should be at this meeting or that meeting as she unbuckled his pants. Even after they were married and they were 'trying' to get pregnant, they had used it as an excuse to have sex anytime, anywhere.
"Aren't you going to eat your soup?"
Leia looked pointedly at his arm, clearly telling him that he should remove his hand from her back. After all, he couldn't really keep his arm around her as he leaned forward and spooned his soup into his mouth with his other hand. He was pretty sure that that was against pretty much every system's table manners. Still, he hesitated, hating to give her up so easily.
Finally giving in, he refilled his goblet, adjusted his chair and discreetly, himself, and ate his soup as quickly as decorum allowed. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he returned it to his lap and his hand brushed against the silky fabric of her dress. Attempting to look as though his arm wasn't moving at all, he slid his hand along the top of her thigh, squeezing it tightly. The flush in her cheeks increased.
When she had first worn the dress, he remembered an appreciation of a night spent in dress clothes. Nothing that she had ever worn on a daily basis highlighted her figure as well as the dress had. Nothing had ever felt as sensuous as his fingers slid over it, tracing the figure it enhanced. The thin fabric had been and still was the only barrier that he had enjoyed between his fingers and her skin. Every nuance, every curve had been hidden and highlighted by its soft, blue sheen.
He broke their kiss a second time. Her nipples pushed determinedly against the barrier and he teased them through it. A soft moan escaped her lips and his shaft pulsed in response.
Han drained the contents of his glass as the next course arrived at the table. Deciding to return his hand to her skin, he slid it purposefully along the inner curve of her thigh as he pulled his arm around her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her mouth open slightly as his fingers grazed along the crease of her thigh. She finished the rest of her wine and when their eyes met, he read the desire that laced through him in hers.
"You know, I think I'm gonna see if they have something better at the bar." He half rose from his chair before turning to address the rest of their table. "Anyone else?"
He stowed the drink orders in his memory bank and for the first time, thanked Leia for her insistence that he wear a full, formal jacket. The length of which successfully hid his current state from all but the most astute eyes. As he snaked his way through the tables, he tried to put the vision of an aroused Leia from his mind, hoping that if he did so, he would manage to sit comfortably through the remainder of the evening. Despite his best efforts, he only succeeded in replacing the image of the desire-filled Leia at the table with the desire-filled Leia of his memory.
Her moan pushed him to action and he spun her until her back rested against the long-closed door. His hand cupped her satin breast and he bent his head to lave at her nipple through the fabric. Her fingers pulled at his hair, encouraging him to suckle harder and he complied before stopping to nip at the hardened nub. He traced a path of kisses along her ribcage as he sunk to his knees. Here, he cradled his head against her hip as his fingers found the edge of her dress and worked their way up the curve of her calf.
The fabric pooled in his arms as his hands continued to glide up her leg until they slid over the curve of her ass. He looked up at her from his knees, and was amazed at the wanton woman that greeted him. Her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed, her cheeks were flushed and the rise and fall of her breasts matched her rapid breathing. He shifted the gathered material until it no longer stood between them and inhaled the musky scent of her arousal.
Quickly, he pulled her lace panties down, raising first one and then the other well-heeled foot before tossing them behind him. Using one hand to hold her hips against the door, he slid the other beneath her thigh and up to grab her ass. Her creamy thigh rested on his shoulder and her dark curls dared him to taste them.
His tongue dipped into her folds and slowly traced a path up to her clit, teasing it ever so slightly, eliciting a whimper from up above. He repeated the motion, each time with a little more pressure, each time eliciting a whimper as he ended the contact. He could feel the trembling of her thighs and his tongue slid along her folds until again, he found her hardened nub and sucked it instead of dancing his tongue across it. Her whimpers were replaced with moans and he sucked harder. He shifted his hands, keeping one to anchor her against the door, freeing the other, sliding his fingers inside her.
She was screaming and he was sure that anyone travelling along the hallway would hear her but he continued, pumping his fingers inside her and pulling on her nub. Her walls clenched around his fingers and he pushed them in and out a few more times before pulling them out of her completely. With both hands he held her to the door as her legs trembled around him and his mouth coaxed her orgasm from her. As she calmed, he rested his head against her belly, his own breathing nearly as ragged as hers as his need pulsed through him.
"I thought you might need a hand with the drinks."
Her hand on his shoulder pulled him back to the present. The evidence of his desire must have been clearly written on his face because even in the darkened room, he watched her eyes darken as he faced her. She wetted her lips and then bit on the lower one.
"I don't need a drink." Even to his own ears, the growl in his voice was clear. "I need something stronger."
He grabbed her wrist and walked away from the bar, pulling her behind him. She was nearly forced into a run as her short legs and high heels tried to keep up with his long strides. He slowed his pace imperceptibly.
"Han, where are we going?" she protested, her voice a loud whisper. "We can't just leave and if you keep walking this fast you're going to make a scene. Oh."
Han pulled on the wooden door to the men's room and ignoring her "I can't possibly go in there", lead them both into the room. The ballroom chosen for this evening's festivities had been fashioned to mimic a quieter time and place and held such rustic features as stone flooring, large wooden doors, and manual locks. He slid the lock in place and turned to face his wife.
"Han, I don't think…"
Her words were cut off as he took a step, bringing his body up against hers. He cupped her face with his hands and met her lips with his. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as he deepened their kiss, his tongue exploring her thoroughly. Her pulse leapt beneath his fingertips and he slid his hands, tangling one in her dark hair as the other slid to cup her full breast.
A moan escaped between them and he spun her until her back rested against the carved wooden slab. His thumb swept across her hardened peak and his lips kissed a path down the curve of her neck. His hands raced ahead, tracing the curve of her hip around to the curve of her backside. He kissed down her body as he fell to his knees, his fingers pulling at the fabric of her dress until her calves were bared to them. As his hands skimmed her silky legs, he prayed that she had made up the distance he had already covered in his mind.
She pulled at the collar of his jacket and he helped her remove the offending garment. Her fingers worked quickly on his buttons, but he fell back to the floor before she could pull the sleeves from his arms. His fingers raced up along her legs and her white lace panties soon joined his jacket on the floor. She tried to pull him from his knees and he kissed her quickly before sinking back to the floor. The fabric pooled in his arms again.
The familiar scent of her arousal greeted him and he paused only a moment before tasting her with his tongue. She moaned and her fingers tugged at his hair. His tongue traced the path that it had repeatedly followed in his mind. His fingers slid into her wetness and his penis throbbed with his need to be inside her. He sucked on her hard clit and she cried out his name. Her thighs trembled as her orgasm washed over her and her legs buckled. He pulled his fingers from her slick wetness and supported her as she recovered. His breathing was ragged and he rested his forehead against her belly.
Her breathing slowed and he continued to hold her with one hand as the other caressed the thigh that rested on his shoulder. He kissed the soft flesh of her inner thigh and she whimpered. He placed another kiss, closer to her juncture than the first. Then another and another until his tongue found her curls again.
Her hands released his hair and caressed his cheeks. With a gentle pressure, she pulled him from his knees and this time he complied. He kissed along her belly as he rose, pausing to lave at each of her nipples. Standing fully against her, he kissed along her neck and nipped at her earlobe as her fingers fumbled with the waist of his pants. Lost in the strength of his arousal, he pushed her hands away and quickly released himself from the confines of his pants. As they fell to his ankles, he forced his boxers down and then a moan escaped him as her fingers wrapped firmly around his shaft. Her soft skin slid up and down his length and he reached down, grabbing her hips and lifting her higher. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He cupped her ass in his hands, moving until the head of his shaft was poised at her hot, wet opening. Lowering her, he slid inside.
"Oh, gods, Leia, I've missed you so much."
He paused, revelling in the feeling of being inside her, his breath hot in her ear. He knew that he wouldn't be inside her for long and he wanted to enjoy it before it was over. He was nearly spent as it was. Her walls clenched around him and he felt his shaft throb in answer. She squirmed in his arms and he knew that she needed him to move. He pulled back and sank slowly and deeper inside her. The ragged breathing in his ear matched his own. He withdrew and slid forward again.
"Han, please."
Her husky voice spoke more of her need than her words and he felt it's echo within him.
"Leia, I don't think…"
He slid out of her and slammed back in deeper.
"I don't think I can last that long."
He slammed inside her again and groaned in her ear.
"You won't have to," she breathed.
It was all the encouragement he needed and he increased his pace. He pumped deeper, faster, harder. Her hands pulled at his hair and his back and her slick juices coated him. Her legs tightened around him and she cried out his name. He continued to slam into her. Her walls pulsed around his shaft and his hips moved faster still. Suddenly, the last of his control was lost and along with it, the rhythm of his thrusting, replaced by the desperate movements that would lead to his release. His voice joined hers as the pleasure-pain of the moments before surged over him. Finally, the he found the exquisite release he had been racing toward and he fell against her. Her walls pulsed around his length, pulling the last of his orgasm from him.
The door held them upright more than anything that either of them were doing and he was grateful for its solid strength. His lips found the crook of her neck and he kissed her, tasting the saltiness of her skin. He breathed deeply in an effort to recover his breath and inhaled the scent of their mingled fluids. He pressed a kiss against her ear, her cheekbone, her lips. His forehead rested against hers.
"Did I ever tell you how much I like this dress?"
His voice still rasped, even to his own ears. He tugged playfully at the ribbon that had escaped the confines of her braid along with a few dark strands. He felt sated, but there was something more. Like he had rediscovered some lost corner of their relationship or that he had reopened a door that he didn't remember closing. He struggled to put words to his feelings for a few moments before giving up.
Pressing another chaste kiss on her lips, he straightened. She unwrapped her legs from his waist and slowly they disentangled themselves. Aches that forewarned of tomorrow's pains settled into his muscles, reminding him that he was not as young or fit as he used to be. He bent to pull up his boxers and pants, rising to find his wife smirking at him as she leaned against the door. The length of her skirt had fallen and other than a few errant strands of hair, she looked nearly as put together as when she had entered the room.
He buttoned his shirt and walked further into the men's room to stand in front of the mirror. Leia stood beside him and began to repair the damage done to her hair. He splashed water on his face and was drying it when he heard something that suspiciously sounded like a giggle coming from the woman beside him. He glanced in the mirror and raised an eyebrow at her reflection. She was putting the finishing touches on her hair-do. A soft blush coloured her cheeks.
"I was just remembering the time when that Senator had thought that you had had a thread loose on your jacket and ended up pulling one of my ribbons from beneath your collar."
"I tried to look surprised," he answered. "A man would have never matched it to the ribbons in your hair. It's not my fault that the Senator from Naboo was a woman."
"True," she conceded and turned to face him, watching as he stuffed the tails of his shirt beneath his waist band. "But I'm sure if she hadn't been a woman, you wouldn't have so determinedly flirted with her and then she wouldn't have noticed."
"Ah, but if I hadn't flirted with her, you wouldn't have so determinedly proved how much more of a woman you were than her later that night."
He bent to retrieve his jacket from the floor, shaking it in hopes of removing some of the wrinkles that had begun to set. White lace caught his eye as it fell to the tile. He shrugged into the jacket and bent to retrieve the panties.
"Forget something?" he asked, dangling the lace from his finger.
She snatched the fabric from him and balled it up. Laying her other hand on his chest, she rose and kissed the line of his jaw where it met his ear. She tucked the lace into the inner pocket of his jacket and whispered into his ear: "Why don't we just leave these here? It's early still and you never know when we might find another door."
He stood frozen as she slid the lock and exited the room. He opened the breast of his jacket and adjusted her panties so they lied flat inside his pocket. The faint scent of her arousal invaded his nose. A familiar tightening in his groin told him that he had a long night ahead of him. He strode through the door to follow his wife.
Finis.
Well? What did you think? Please post your thoughts, good & bad, I will respond to both. Thank you for reading and (hopefully) reviewing. Scarlet.