The title to this story is respectfully borrowed from a song by Brandi Carlile. It's a great song, if you haven't heard it. Also, I borrowed the setting from a series of stories by StatsGrandma57. Thank you for letting me play in your toy box.
Wherever is Your Heart, I Call Home
Leia sat in her home office and glared at her monitor screen. Her fingers hovered over the synced keyboard in anticipation, but the screen remained mutinously blank. With a particularly unprincess-like oath, she swung her chair around so she could look through the window toward the nearly perfect beach that was a short walk from their new home on Corellia's southern continent. The beautiful vista should have made her happy, and it did—almost deliriously so—except for one small problem. Now that she was retired from public service, and had as much time as she needed to do whatever she wanted—loathe though she was to admit it—Leia missed her husband whenever he was gone. Desperately. The princess was fairly certain that she could withstand any form of torture before she gave that bit of information up, however. Han Solo already had the biggest ego this side of the Unknown Regions, she certainly didn't need to add to it. But it was his fault she was listening for the sound of the door opening, rather than working on her memoirs—which were under contract, she reminded herself. Laser-brained nerfherder, she thought. Han, of course, not her.
When she heard the front door open 23.2 standard minutes later—not that she was counting—she was almost embarrassed to feel her heart speed up and a pleasant heat grow deep in her middle. I am acting like a moonstruck virgin, Leia thought, and after years of marriage and four children, that is oh so inappropriate. However, that didn't stop the smile that spread across her features. Moments later she heard a thud as Han's travel bag landed on the parquetry in the entrance way. Her smile grew with anticipation. She wasn't going to go running to him, she reminded herself sternly; let him find her.
Leia smoothed out the silky sleeveless tunic she wore over slinky zoosha pants, and adjusted the garnet-colored openwork scarf—the same color as the tunic and pants—she wore draped carelessly around her shoulders. She clattered away at the keyboard now, typing gibberish, so Han wouldn't know she'd been waiting for him.
"Leia? Are you here?" she heard him call from the front part of the house. He didn't sound right, somehow. He certainly didn't sound like a husband eager to see his wife. In fact, his voice sounded like something bad had happened.
"Yes, Han. I'm back here." A million possibilities flew through Leia's brain, each one worse than the last. What could have happened? It wasn't the Falcon—that temperamental bucket of bolts broke down almost every trip—that wouldn't even account for a raised eyebrow. It couldn't be anything to do with Jacen or Jaina; Luke or Mara would have contacted her from Yavin 4 if something was amiss. Maybe something had happened to Chewie? Or to Han? But he didn't sound ill or injured…
"Something's not right here," Han called out. "Stay where you are," he instructed her. His voice was wary, on alert.
Kriff! What could be wrong? The house had a security system, which was a necessity, even though Leia hated it. But celebrity, even old celebrity, attracted its share of the curious, the hangers-on, even stalkers; and children lived here, they needed to be kept safe. Leia didn't often set it when she was home during the day, though; it was so quiet it seemed unnecessary. Had someone gotten in and done some damage? Or stolen something. The princess unkeyed a locked drawer and pulled out her holdout blaster, checking to see if it was charged. She moved silently through the house on bare feet.
"Han, what is it? What's going on?" Leia asked her husband as she stepped into the front room from a recessed hallway. All she could see that was out-of-place was Han. He stood in the middle of the room with his blaster drawn. His hazel eyes darted from corners, to pieces of furniture, to open doorways.
"I thought I told you to stay where you were," he snarled out hopelessly, knowing full well that Leia wasn't about to remain safely tucked away if there was a dangerous situation.
"What's wrong?" she asked him, ignoring his comment. "I don't see anything." She moved to stand next to him, her own blaster at the ready.
"It doesn't feel right in here," he surveyed the room with hard eyes. "It doesn't sound right."
"Oh." Leia's posture relaxed as understanding blossomed. She reached out with her free hand to push her husband's blaster arm down. "I know what the problem is," she smiled up at his puzzled face. "The kids aren't here."
"Huh?" Han looked down at his wife, his incomprehension obvious. Leia couldn't help but smile; Han was so cute when he was befuddled.
"The children aren't home," the princess repeated. "And the cleaner droids were here earlier," she added. "So it's quiet and everything is put away. That's why it doesn't seem right." She set her small blaster down on a nearby table.
"Quiet. I forgot what it was like," Han remarked. "It's been a while."
Even though his mistake might have seemed a gross overreaction to someone else, Leia could actually sympathize with her husband. They had spent so many years jammed into their flat on Coruscant—with all the attendant noise and mess of four children—that the extra space their new house provided still seemed foreign to them. If you added in the facts that the two older children were away studying at the Jedi Praxium, and that neither of the younger boys were at home, they really were in unfamiliar territory. And somehow, the two younger boys were almost always in noisy perpetual motion. The only times they were still was when they were asleep—or sulking. When they were gone, the silence could be overpowering.
"Where are they?" Han's demeanor returned to normal, though he still held his blaster at his side.
"Anakin had a school trip. Don't you remember? They were going on a camping trip up into the mountains…to learn about the different ecosystems." Leia smiled wearily. "I hope he doesn't fleece his cabinmates too badly at sabbac." She looked into Han's face, her expression turning stern. "He really is your child when it comes to cards."
"That's right, now I remember. I warned him about the cards," Han informed his wife. "And the little guy?" he asked.
"He has a playdate at the Rimmoons," Leia explained. That family had twin girls just Jarik's age, and they'd all become very close friends. It turned out that Han and Leia's youngest son was quite the ladies' man, just like his father. "Ellya called and asked if Jarik could spend the night," she continued. "I didn't see any reason why he couldn't."
"But they're girls!" Han responded, horrified.
"They're five!" Leia laughed. "I think Ellya and Naol can head-off any hanky panky for one night."
"I don't know…" Han mumbled. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "So, we're the only ones here tonight, right?" A small smile started as he slipped his blaster into its holster, not missing Leia's eyes on the blaster, the belt, and the anatomy where said blaster and belt rode.
"It's just the two of us," Leia confirmed, dragging her eyes back up to Han's face from that very interesting feature of Corellian geography. Well, her Corellian's geography, at least. She smiled invitingly back at him, brushing her fingers across the open V of his shirt.
Han's lopsided grin—Leia's favorite feature of her husband's above his neck—lit his eyes with a roguish twinkle. Then it wavered a bit. "Wait a minute, where's Brendahl?"
Leia's fingers traveled up to trace the scar on his chin. "She's on Tatooine for the Mos Eisley classic," she reminded Han.
"That's right," he recalled, moving his head down to nip at his wife's fingertips.
"Uh," Leia asked, pulling her fingers out of his mouth. "What about Chewie? He's not coming by for dinner tonight, is he?" The princess loved the Wookiee nearly as much as she loved her husband and children, and always welcomed him into their home. But not tonight, she selfishly hoped.
"Nah. He's checking on a possible apartment. And he said he's going to holocall Malla and Lumpy later." Han's hand brushed along Leia's cheek and down to her neck. Her stomach fluttered pleasantly. "You know that will keep him all night." His mouth moved down to follow his hand, then stopped. "Where's Goldenrod?" he asked suspiciously. Twenty plus years later, he still hadn't forgiven the protocol droid for interrupting that first, all-important kiss on the Millennium Falcon.
Leia tugged at his head, bringing it back to her neck. With one careless hand she flicked the lacy scarf out of the way. "I sent him with Jarik," she said.
"What?" Han's head bobbed back up. "Why would you do that to someone you want to keep our child overnight?"
"So that if Jarik and the girls dismantle something, Threepio can put it back together." Leia tugged on his hair, pulling his head back down. Her tongue flicked enticingly over his ear. "I thought you might want a night all by ourselves." Her teeth replaced her tongue, nibbling gently on the earlobe.
"Yeah, uh, I uh…good idea, your Worship," Han moaned. With one swift motion, he swept Leia off her feet and into his arms. "Is the bed made?" he asked her as he strode up the four steps to the master suite.
"Uh huh," she said, her face buried in his neck, nipping lightly with her teeth.
"Not for long!" Han informed her.
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While Leia would never consider herself a domestic goddess, after years of marriage and four children, even she had certain standards she strove to achieve on a daily basis. One of the simplest tasks—and the most easily attained—was making sure that the beds were made each day. Since she'd known Han was due back today, she had taken special care with their bed. The sheets and blankets were freshly laundered, the coverlet smoothed of wrinkles, and a bevy of pillows were perched on top. She'd wanted to make it look especially inviting.
Now she wondered why she'd bothered.
Somehow, her versatile—and sexy—husband had found a way to divest the bed of its carefully placed embellishments, all the while never allowing Leia's feet to touch the ground. Nor did he remove his mouth from hers; they were stuck together like mynocks affixed the Falcon. Once the bed was denuded to meet her husband's desires, he laid her gently down, then pulled back to look at her.
"I like your outfit," he said. As a come-on line it was feeble, but Leia thought he really meant it. There was a sweetness to Han that he managed to keep hidden from everyone but her. She loved him all the more because of it, and now it was helping to fuel the desire coursing through her like a runaway speeder. He ran his fingers softly over the edging on the tunic. "I like it when you wear red."
"I know you do…oh!' Leia gasped, as her husband's hands moved from the edge of the tunic to underneath, where he expertly fondled her breasts, using his thumbs to bring her nipples to pleasant, painful attention. Sweetness had been replaced by playful lust.
"Oh," she murmured, moaning as Han straddled her on the bed. A tingling heat started in her groin, and raced through her eager body as his hands stroked and kneaded. He leaned in to kiss her; his mouth greedy as his tongue explored her mouth, her ears, her neck. Leia's body arched up to meet him.
"Now we need to get you out of them," Han informed her, suiting his actions to the words. With well-practiced fingers, he undid the clasp of the tunic, stroking and teasing her creamy flesh as he pulled the garment aside. His mouth latched on to hers with a low moan of anticipation as Leia worked to undo the fastening of his trousers.
"You know," Leia admonished him, "this would go much faster if you'd stop squirming." She slid her hand down inside his unfastened pants. "Unless you'd like me to take my time?" she queried with a wicked smile. She caught her tongue between her teeth as she grasped his cock in her small hand and worked along its hardening length. As she freed him from what must have become the uncomfortable confinement of his underclothes, she moved forward and took him in her mouth, sucking and teasing with her tongue.
"Unh, nunh…" were the only intelligible sounds Han was able to make, and neither of them were exactly sure what they meant. Leia assumed it meant he wanted her to continue—so she did, thrilling as much to the frenzied motions of his hands as he feverishly worked her out of the rest of her clothes as she did to the throbbing hardness of his phallus as she caressed it.
When they were both free of their clothes, Han lowered himself carefully on top of his wife. Even after so many years together, Leia was still wildly aroused by the feel of Han's naked body on hers: the strongly muscled chest and thighs pressing onto her; his mouth on her lips, her throat, her breasts. The feel of his penis, hard and strong, questing for its nest inside her. She was wet and eager as he found his way home and he emptied himself—body and soul—inside her. The rest of the world disappeared into a brilliant multicolored haze, as the two joined, riding to a towering climax before falling into blissful oblivion.
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Leia watched as the first of Corellia's moons rose above the sea, a pale silver disk against the purple twilight sky. It was just enough light to allow her to see the shadowy outline of Han's form next to her in the bed. Not that she wasn't very much aware of his warm body; it was pressed up against her as she curled herself against him, and her husband's arm was wrapped comfortingly around her waist. His gentle snores tickled at her ear. Shifting a little, she caught sight of the second moonrise; this orb had a pink hue. It occurred to her that it had still been daylight when they'd come into the bedroom. The practical princess wondered, just for a moment, if maybe they ought to have opaqued the window when they came in. Oh well, she thought with a smirk, it was too late now to worry if they'd provided anyone with a free show. At this point in her life, she really didn't care.
A wave of pure joy washed over her, as strong an emotion as her desire had been earlier. Leia realized she was smiling like an idiot, there in the dark, and she really didn't care. If she were to die right now, she couldn't think of a thing she would regret. No, that wasn't true. She would desperately miss not having even more time to spend with this amazing man. Whether it had been the Force acting on them—as Luke would say—or just a lucky twist of fate, Leia didn't care. All she knew was that at what had seemed to be the darkest point in her life, a miracle had happened. A miracle in the form of handsome, cocky Corellian smuggler who somehow had made her whole. Wherever he was, she knew; there was her heart.
Reflexively, Leia wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him closer against her. Han grunted and mumbled as he awoke.
"Good morning, your Worship." He looked at her through half-open eyes, giving her a lazy, lopsided grin.
"I think you mean 'good evening,' Flyboy," she corrected with an answering smile.
"Oh." Han twisted to look out the window, then turned back to his wife. "This is nice, real nice," he said. His brows furrowed, just for a moment. "You're sure the kids won't be back?" he asked her. Absentmindedly, he twisted a strand of Leia's hair around an index finger.
"I'm sure," she said.
"I love my kids," Han declared. "But every once in a while, it's nice to just be the two of us." He smiled his scoundrel's smile. "I think this is the first time we've had a chance to do this," he said, waving his hand to indicate their intertwined bodies, a suggestive glint in his eye. "At least without having to lock the door. Or hurry." He cupped his hand in Leia's silky hair, pulling her toward him. "We could try some of the other rooms, too," he murmured. "Really make it our home."
"We could," Leia answered. She raised herself up to thoroughly kiss his smiling mouth. "But wherever you are Han, that's home for me."