Recursion
by Erin Darroch
Notes: This fic is AU, diverging significantly from official canon after the events on Starkiller Base in SW: TFA. It is also (like my other post-TFA stories) set roughly in the universe established by Susan Zahn (suezahn), with her kind permission.
This story falls between chapters thirteen and fourteen of Remain in Light, also written by me, which can be found on AO3 or . If you haven't read that story, you may be slightly confused about what's going on with Han Solo. The Cliffs Notes version is (a) Han's not dead and (b) the Force has awakened in some unexpected places.
Finally, the first chapter contains sexually explicit material. Skip to chapter two if that's not your cuppa.
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Chapter 1:
Han kept his eyes closed, enjoying Leia's bold touch as she followed the contours of his abdomen with her hand, moving steadily downwards, rubbing her warm palm across the skin of his lower belly, then turning her hand to slide over his hip bone, and lower still. He heard himself groan at her knowledgeable touch, and felt his body's eager response. Many of his dreams over the past year had featured interludes exactly like this one, so it took him a moment to realise that he wasn't dreaming after all. As he drifted awake, he recalled where he was—in a plush bed, within a richly appointed hotel suite, on the luxury resort world of Ord Mantell. But, more importantly, he was with his wife.
He cracked his eyes open to peer down at Leia, and swallowed hard at the sight of her leaning over him, trailing warm kisses along the path so recently traced by her fingertips as her hand continued to stroke and caress him. It was not yet dawn, and the light was dim, but he could just make out the shape of her dark head, the pale curve of her shoulder and the graceful line of her bare back. He watched what she was doing for as long as he could manage, but when her mouth took over from the touch of her hand, his eyes rolled back involuntarily, and his head dropped to the pillow. The exquisite sensations caused by her lips and tongue drew another groan of pleasure from his throat. He reached down to slide his fingers through her hair, then caressed the nape of her neck and trailed his fingers down the indentation of her spine.
How did we get here, Sweetheart?
Apart from the physical gratification of Leia's attentions, he felt pure happiness swell within him at the simple fact of waking up in the same bed with his wife again, after more than a year apart and an emotional estrangement that had lasted even longer. Their reunion had been everything he'd wished for during that lonely time—cathartic, healing and hopeful. Although he hadn't expected ever to feel those things again, his own burgeoning awareness of the Force had opened up a million new possibilities between them, an astonishing development in a marriage that had so far spanned over thirty years.
Through that mysterious energy field, he could feel an echo of Leia's own pleasure, and the warm ripple of deep affection emanating from her as she caressed him. Gripped by the need to reciprocate, to show her all over again how much she meant to him, he tugged gently on her shoulder to pull her up. He ran his hands up and down her body as she moved, then guided her to straddle him. As she rose above him and then settled her weight astride his hips, he saw the glimmer of a smile in her dark eyes, and he grinned back.
Forget the analysis, Solo. Just enjoy it.
The final hour of the night disappeared without either of them noticing. They made love slowly, almost languorously, in a tender affirmation of everything they'd said to each other the evening before—with words, with their bodies, and through the power of the Force—until the brightening sky heralded dawn on Ord Mantell.
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