All the Way - Chapter 11
By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham
As a method for dampening physical enthusiasm, Han reckoned cold showers were seriously overrated. Sure, the initial shock of chilly water had done the trick for a while, cooling his ardour for about as long as it took him to lather up and scrub himself clean, but as soon as he was dry and dressed and in Leia's presence again, it was as though the intervention had never happened. He was consumed with want for her, body and mind.
From the very first day of their acquaintance, the princess had taken up an inordinate amount of space in his brain—a condition he had at first found bewildering and then deeply irritating. Over time, as he'd gotten to know her better, he had grown accustomed to the fact that his awareness automatically sharpened the instant she was anywhere even remotely within view or earshot. He couldn't help it; he couldn't be near her and not be alert to her presence. She drew all of his attention with the same inexorable power that kept astronomical bodies in orbit around a sun. And now that he had experienced a few moments of heart-stopping intimacy with her—and heard her unreserved confession of love—he could think of nothing else.
Dinner had been enjoyable enough, although his appetite for food seemed strangely diminished. Leia, too, had eaten only a little, readily tasting the delicately spiced dish Chewbacca had prepared and expressing her appreciation of it, but leaving much of her meal on the plate. Sitting at a ninety-degree angle from her on the padded acceleration bench that curved around the table, Han could feel ripples of anticipatory energy emanating from the princess that were almost palpable, myriad electrostatic connections that seemed to crackle between them like so many live wires. It was all he could do to keep his own nervous energy under control. He pushed food around on his plate, and every now and then lifted his cup to take a drink, but beneath the table, his knee would not stop bouncing.
He had to hand it to Leia, though; she sure knew how to play it cool. Anyone else observing might have been fooled by her open and relaxed posture, the way she kept her eyes mostly focused on Chewie at the far end of the curved bench, the way she nodded and smiled in all the right places as the Wookiee spoke, giving every indication of rapt attention and serene composure. The covert glances she slanted Han's way told another story, though, and every time her eyes flicked to his he felt a happy shock, seeing his own desires reflected in her gaze. Those intermittent flashes were enough to sustain him through the obligatory pleasantries over the course of the meal, but he couldn't help darting impatient glances over at Chewbacca's plate every now and then, silently urging his friend to stop yapping and just eat.
Although Han tried hard to pay attention to the dinner table conversation—and even managed to chime in occasionally with a dry comment on one of Chewie's tall tales—his mind kept looping back to the intimate interlude with Leia in the access bay. Moreover, he found himself drifting into reverie over the monumental confessions that had passed between him and the princess in the cockpit before that. The desire to kiss her again now was strong, but the need to hear her whisper her true feelings in his ear was even stronger. He'd never been the type to indulge in mood-altering chemicals, but he couldn't imagine spice or any other substance delivering a hit to the system that could rival the impact of those life-changing words. He wanted to hear them again and again, as soon as possible, and forever. He glanced at the ship's chrono for the tenth time in as many minutes and nearly groaned aloud to see that it was still only barely past eighteen-hundred hours.
He cast another desperate look at Chewie. The Wookiee's oversized plate was finally empty, but now he was animatedly recounting yet another old anecdote, following on from the first, waving his shaggy paws in wild gesticulation in the pauses between his excited warblings. Through the fog of his internal distraction, Han caught mention of Nuvasi and the river Klyte. He rolled his eyes at his co-pilot and took another swallow of water from his cup. The mophead was gleefully elaborating on one of his favourite tales of past derring-do, when he'd rescued a much younger Han from the clutches of the predatory and rapacious Ntchila tribe. Leia seemed to be hanging on his every word, her brow furrowing at intervals as she attempted to keep abreast of the rapid-fire stream of Shyriiwook.
Short of ordering his friend outright to ditch the storytelling and make himself scarce, Han had no choice but to wait it out. Sighing, he dropped his gaze to his half-eaten meal. He toyed with his fork, absently dragging the tines through the pool of durmic-spiced sauce on his plate, making criss-cross patterns in an effort to distract himself from his own thoughts, as he tried to ignore the light scent of bacaonut and fragrant Wroshyr-tree oil that drifted to him across the table. But there was nothing for it—he couldn't seem to keep his mind or his eyes off of her, so he finally gave up trying. Dropping the fork back onto the plate, he leaned back, folded his arms across his chest, and indulged in the newfound privilege of observing Leia with an openly admiring gaze.
Fresh from her shower, clad in blousy mismatched sleepwear, and with her voluminous dark hair upswept into a messy knot atop her head, she looked radiantly beautiful. Although the faded garments she had donned were not as snug as the thermals she'd worn before, the thin quasicotton fabric did little to disguise her figure—indeed, he could tell at a glance that she had opted out of wearing a bra, a realisation that set his brain into fevered motion once again. He closed his eyes for a moment against a rush of vivid memories; the feel of her legs wrapped around his hips, the scent of her skin, the sound of her voice when she'd moaned in breathless pleasure as he'd touched her. Despite strenuous efforts to keep himself in check, those recollections provoked a powerful physical response and intensified the ache of yearning that gripped his chest a little tighter with every passing minute.
He had all but decided to throw decorum out the airlock and interrupt Chewie's interminable chit-chat, when the Wookiee finally wrapped up his story with a flourish, and Leia dropped her head back and laughed. As her shoulders shook and the bright sound bubbled up around him, Han found his focus drawn immediately to the captivating arc of her throat, so delicate and pale. His lips had been there, had followed that graceful line down to the elegant curve of her shoulder and the soft hollow just above her collarbone. He could still feel the warm rush of her breath across his cheek as she'd whispered—.
[*Cub.*]
Han blinked at his friend. "Huh?"
Chewie gestured at his half-eaten meal. [*Are you finished with your plate?*]
"Uh, yeah," Han replied. "Sorry, pal. Guess I wasn't that hungry after all."
Chewie's broad muzzle twitched as he squeezed his bulky frame out from behind the table, but he diplomatically reserved comment on Han's appetite. [*I will pack the rest of the food away for later,*] he growled as he collected the plates. [*And the auto-lave will do the rest.]
Han caught Leia's lively gaze across the table, and his heart gave a thump against his ribs. Finally!
He straightened in his seat. "We'll take care of the cleanup, pal. Just make sure the Professor's plugged into the central mainframe before you head to bed, would ya? All the backups are running again without a hitch, and I'd like to keep it that way."
Chewie barked his acknowledgement as he shuffled off toward the galley with the small stack of plates and cups in hand.
"Good plan," Leia observed, turning her attention back to Han. "Keeping Threepio on watch will improve our odds."
Han grunted. "Keeping him out of my way will improve his odds."
Leia smirked and scooted a little closer. "When are you going to stop giving my valued assistant such a hard time?" she asked.
"When he stops being such a pain in the ass." Han grinned. "So...never, I guess. And anyway, I don't see what's so valuable about him. Any old astromech droid would be more useful."
The princess rolled her eyes. "He is fluent in over six million forms of communication," she reminded him primly. "And besides, I like the way he looks."
Han raised one eyebrow. "You got a thing for gold-plated hardbodies, Princess?"
Leia gave him a meaningful look, up and down. "That shirt you're wearing is a pretty good match for Threepio's colour," she remarked. "So...yes. I suppose I do."
Han couldn't stop the grin on his face from growing even wider. "I thought you hated this thing."
Stretching the front of his lurid yellow shirt away from his torso, he peered down at the image featured prominently across its front. The quasicotton garment had definitely seen better days and the stylized imprint of a Wasskahn convor had faded away almost entirely. The brassy colour of the fabric was as vivid as ever, though, and he supposed the princess was right: it wasn't that far off the goldenrod hue of Threepio's metal plating.
"I don't hate it." Leia said.
Han cocked a dubious eyebrow at her.
She laughed. "Well, it is ugly. So, so ugly."
"Yeah, you say that every time I wear it."
"Which is all the time," Leia pointed out. "You have other shirts, so why do you insist on wearing this one?"
Han smirked. "Guess I always hoped that one of these days you'd tell me to take it off."
"Oh," Leia gave a soft snort and then met his gaze, suddenly serious. "Clever strategy, Hotshot. I think today might be your lucky day."
Han's jaw went slack as his mind immediately conjured images of the two of them passionately disrobing one another. The knowledge that those long-nurtured fantasies would soon become a reality made his stomach perform somersaults and filled him with giddy anticipation. He blew out a breath and gave his head a shake as Leia snickered quietly to herself.
Chewie reappeared at that moment, having deposited the dirty dishes and refilled his oversized thermal mug. [*I am in need of a sonic before I retire, but I will deal with the droid first,*] he informed them as he passed through the central hold. He exited through the hatch at the other side and headed for the cockpit.
Han's heart sank at the implications of his co-pilot's words. With a groan, he let his head drop back against the tall cushions of the couch and closed his eyes. By necessity, Chewie had his own sani adjacent to his private quarters, which was scaled to Wookiee size and suited to his anatomy. But it was only a sani and a small sink—no shower. Han had always intended to install another sonic cleanser for his hirsute friend, but it remained one of the many ad hoc additions to the Falcon that he'd never had time or money enough to complete. That meant there was only one proper 'fresher on the ship—and it was situated inside Han's private quarters. If Chewie intended to take his usual sonic shower after dealing with Threepio, then Han's plans of retreating to the bunk room with Leia would have to be tabled for a while longer. He released a sigh.
Beside him, Leia shifted closer still. Her leg brushed against his, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her through his own loose-fitting sleep pants. Lifting his head from the cushion, he looked down to see her beaming up at him, her dark eyes alight with invitation as she brought one hand lightly to rest upon his thigh
Needing no further encouragement, he lowered his head to meet her offered kiss. They shared a series of light, brief caresses, intermingled with soft nuzzles and tiny flickers of tongue. It felt so natural now to kiss her like this, knowing she wanted the connection as much as he did, but Han could hardly believe it was happening. Over the course of a few short hours, they had gone from squaring off in seemingly irresolvable conflict, to kissing with ease and uninhibited ardour—and with the promise of greater intimacies yet to be discovered, once they were well and truly alone for the night.
Leia drew back enough to give him a sober look, although at such close proximity Han could easily read the signs lurking beneath her solemn affect: accelerated breathing, dilated pupils and a tell-tale flush already tinting her cheeks. "How long do you think he'll be?"
"Chewie? Won't take him long to get Threepio set up." He lifted an arm and then draped it around her shoulders, exerting gentle traction to draw her closer. To his gratification, she slid right up against him and then slipped an arm across his midsection. His stomach muscles jumped at the casually intimate contact, as he tucked her petite body warmly against his side. "Unless, of course, the Professor decides to argue with him about it."
"So...we have a few minutes?" she ventured with an upward glance that was half shy, half sly. Her fingers toyed with the loose material of his yellow sleep shirt, and Han felt every light twitch of the fabric as an exquisite torment. He desperately wanted to feel her hand on his skin again, he craved it like he'd never craved anything else.
Watching his face with wide brown eyes, Leia seemed to read his mind. She slipped her hand beneath the hem of his shirt as she kept her gaze locked on his. Han felt his own breath shorten and grow shallow as he stared down at her, feeling the tentative touch of her fingertips and then the warm stroke of her palm as she curved her hand around the oblique muscles of his lower abdomen. Her eyes crinkled in a smile as she shyly bit her lip, and a ripple of pure pleasure went through Han like nothing he'd ever experienced before. His whole body seemed to harden in response to her touch, but the sight of Leia glowing with excitement at delivering such an intimate caress did things to his soul that he could barely make sense of, much less understand. He felt a physical ache to merge with her, to share everything with her, a longing so strong it made his head swim. He curved his arm around her shoulders in a tender crush and lowered his mouth to hers once more.
She was ready for it, eagerly stretching up to meet him halfway. The sensation of her soft lips clinging to his and the teasing sweep of her tongue, together with the feel of her palm slowly stroking the skin of his stomach below, made Han feel as though his brain was going to blow a circuit. Hungry for more, he lifted his free hand up to hold the back of her head, feeling nearly delirious with pleasure as she parted her lips a little wider and took his tongue a little deeper.
The sound of Chewbacca returning along the short corridor from the cockpit reached Han's ears only an instant before the Wookiee passed the threshold, startling them apart. Leia hadn't heard his approach either, a fact which was evident in the way she snatched her hand away from Han's body and hitched back along the bench, putting a little bit of distance between them. But to Han's relief, the Wookiee kept walking right past the hatch of the central hold where they sat, and continued striding along the curving corridor towards his own private quarters.
Han exchanged quizzical glances with Leia, and then they both dissolved into quiet laughter.
He reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I don't think he even bothered to look our way, Sweetheart," he said.
"I don't think so, either," she replied. "Although, to be honest, I'm not sure why we're trying to sneak around like a couple of adolescents. It's not like he doesn't already know what's going on…."
Han chuckled, recalling his friend's earlier interruption in the access bay and his blithe attempt to pass himself off as oblivious. The Wookiee was clearly very aware that they had rounded a corner in their relationship and, moreover, Han could sense that he was thrilled with the turn of events. He hadn't pried or even teased them much, apart from a mirthfully barbed allusion or two, a sure sign that he approved of the obvious change in dynamic that had occurred between his friends.
"And anyway, he wouldn't be shocked or offended, would he?" Leia asked.
Han shook his head. "Nah. Wookiees are, uh, pretty open about...such things." He had no idea why he was suddenly being so delicate about the subject of sex. He'd never felt any sort of inhibition before, and never pulled any punches when it came to talking about it, either—not even with the princess, on the rare occasions in the past when the topic had presented itself. Sex was just sex. Normal, natural, pleasurable and fun. A private sort of activity, sure, but nothing to be embarrassed about.
Only now, as he contemplated the very real prospect of going all the way there with Leia, everything about it seemed to take on deeper meaning. The experience they were about to embark upon together could not be reduced to such a singular term; it was so much more than that. The depth of feeling infused into every kiss they shared, every touch, transcended any lexicon Han had ever learned. What had transpired between them so far was promise, and a physical expression of a heartfelt pledge. What they had tacitly planned for the evening ahead would be an extension of that, he realised, something he had never experienced before in his life. Together, all the way. He quirked an inward smile at the realisation that he could suddenly relate to the lyrics of all the soppy love songs he'd ever heard and cynically dismissed.
"That's good to know," Leia said, dragging his thoughts back to the present. "I wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable."
Her dark eyes shimmered with a mix of amusement and anticipation, and he could see that she was as eager as he was to pick up where they had left off. He reached for her hand, intending to draw her back to his side, but before she could respond they heard the sound of Chewie's advancing footsteps echoing along the corridor once more.
The Wookiee stepped down into the lounge, brandishing a vine-wrapped forest-green bottle in one massive paw. His lips peeled back from his broad muzzle in a wide smile as he approached, and then he extended his shaggy arm and set the bottle down in the centre of the table with a flourish.
Han slanted an incredulous gaze from Chewie to the bottle and back again. "Is that what I think it is?"
Chewbacca nodded. [*Kashyyyki brandy. Fermented with the bark of special Wroshyr trees, twice distilled, and then aged for many decades in casks of the same wood.*]
Leia arched a curious eyebrow, and then reached out and drew the bottle closer. "I never knew such a thing existed."
[*It is rare, and seldom seen offworld,*] Chewie replied. [*That particular bottle is almost as old as I am. I have been saving it for just the right occasion. Now seems like the perfect time.*]
Han gave a low whistle. "That is quite a gift, pal."
[*Consider it a token of my gratitude.*]
"Gratitude?" Han echoed. "For what?"
[*For the two of you coming to your senses at long last. That alone is cause for celebration.*] He gave another toothy grin as he stepped back, his gaze flicking between them, and then gave a short nod. [*We have much to be grateful for, even apart from that. I am going to shower now, but I will return to toast our good fortunes before I retire.*]
Leia studied the Wookiee's retreating back as he passed through the galley on his way to the bunk room, and then turned her focus back to Han. "How long do you think he'll be this time?"
"Long enough. Even the sonics have a tough time with that thick pelt of his."
Before he'd even finished speaking, Leia was sliding under his embracing arm again, resuming her former position there as if her body had been powerfully drawn against his by sheer magnetic force. Han dipped his head down and kissed her like he'd never yet kissed her before: ravenously, tenderly, with a sudden swell of deep gratitude and overwhelming love. With his free hand, he touched her head, let his thumb lightly trace the shape of her cheek, then slipped a hand down to caress her neck before threading his fingers upward through the gathered mass of her silken dark hair. He couldn't get his fill of touching her, couldn't seem to get close enough, and Leia evidently felt the same. Her small hand slipped once again under his shirt and she laughed richly against his lips at the moment of contact with his skin, sounding giddy with delight at having license to indulge in long pent-up desires. He chuckled back, happy to let her do whatever she wanted. It felt so good to be touched and, especially, to know that she craved the physical connection as much as he did.
He was no ascetic, but he'd spent the last two years living very much like one, rejecting casual portside dalliances in favour of spending time with Leia. It was a measure of how profoundly besotted he'd been with her from the start that he genuinely preferred bickering and bantering with her than indulging in more intimate pleasures with anyone else. But now, in the wake of their mutual commitment, with their feelings for one another out in the open, there was no need to choose.
Dimly, he recalled his promise to Chewie that they would clean up the galley, but he couldn't summon the will to break contact with the princess. He was too consumed by the novel sensation of her inquisitive hand daring further exploration under his shirt, ruching up the soft fabric as her curious fingers wandered higher up his torso. Her palm brushed the sparse hairs on his chest and lightly grazed one hard nipple as they continued to kiss with sweet abandon. He couldn't stifle the sound that came from his throat, didn't bother trying to hide the effect she was having on him. She was pressed up against him so tightly now, he could feel her heart beating in strong counterpoint to his own. He gripped her tighter, tried to drag her onto his aching lap, and she finally broke their kiss and began to pull away a little. She breathed a shaky laugh against his cheek.
"I want to," she whispered. "But we have to clean up the galley, remember? And Chewie's coming back for a drink…."
Reflexively, Han tightened his arm around her, loath to let her go. She gave a sympathetic chuckle and then pressed softly puckered lips to his, one last time. "Later," she murmured against his cheek and then slid backwards along the bench, putting space and cool air between them.
Han watched her retreat, feeling piteously forlorn, although he knew she was absolutely right to call a halt to their activities. She was made of sterner stuff than he, though. Or maybe she was just better at tolerating delayed gratification. He knew for a fact that, if it were solely up to him, they would have continued making out right up until the instant the Wookiee showed his furry face again.
Under cover of the table, he did what he had to do to quell obvious evidence of his desire, acting by force of habit and forgetting for a moment that he didn't need to hide anything from Leia. She eyed him curiously as he waited for another beat, and then resignedly slid out from behind the table.
Stretching up to his full height in front of the princess, he angled a rueful half-smile down at her upturned face. He was in his stockinged feet, but so was she, and the absence of footwear had a much greater impact on her height than on his. Even with her hair piled high in a loose bun, the top of her head barely came up to his clavicle. He reached out and smoothed a tendril of dark hair behind her ear as she gazed up at him with her brown eyes sparkling. In day-to-day living with Leia, it was easy to forget how small she was, how delicate and fine. She was such a mighty presence in his life, a force of nature in a compact package, it was sometimes a wonder to look at her and comprehend her diminutive size. He tamped down on the powerful urge to gather her into his arms once more and rain kisses over her whole face, choosing instead to sweep a hand towards the galley hatch.
"Come on, then," he said. "If we work together, we can have it wrapped up by the time Chewie's finished with his shower."
Leia swivelled around and they walked together the short distance to the galley. As he stepped through the hatch with the princess just ahead, Han was pleased to see that the small space wasn't in complete disarray. True to his fastidious nature, Chewie had done the heaviest cleanup at the same time as he'd prepared the meal, leaving only the leftover food to be repackaged and a handful of plates and cutlery to be scraped and loaded into the auto-lave.
Han retrieved a stack of small plasteel containers from the upper cabinet and set them on the counter. "Why don't you pack up the food and I'll wash," he suggested. "I'd say there's enough there to put into the sub-zero for another meal. We can't really afford to waste anything."
Leia nodded and, retrieving a spoon from the utility drawer, began tipping the contents of the largest bowl into a container. "It really was delicious," she said wistfully. "I hope Chewie isn't upset that we didn't eat much."
"Nah," Han said. He thumbed open the wash compartment of the auto-lave and started setting the plates into its upright slots. "He's just glad we're not arguing anymore."
Leia gave him a sideways smile as she snapped the lid of the container into place, and then handed him the empty serving bowl before starting on another. "So am I," she said, her voice loaded with heartfelt sincerity.
Han grinned. "That makes three of us, Sweetheart."
Leia finished her task and then disappeared with the short stack of prepacked meals in hand, passing through the far hatch to deposit them into the miniature chest freezer in the small hold adjacent. Han loaded the last of the soiled dishes and set the auto-lave to clean, then turned his attention to wiping down the tiny cooktop and the countertop spaces to either side of it. He made quick work of it, ensuring the small space was spotless by the time the princess returned from her errand. She stepped through the hatch and, after a cursory glance from side to side, sidled up to him, tilting her head back in order to maintain eye contact as she drew close enough to touch.
"You know, when you designed this galley, you overlooked one crucial piece of equipment."
"What's that?" Han asked.
"A storage crate tall enough for me to sit on," she quipped.
There was a teasing note in her voice and a distinctive sparkle in her eye that Han was swiftly learning to recognize as an invitation. He accepted without hesitation, swiftly steering her backward to the nearest counter.
"Who needs a crate when you've got this?" he replied, slapping a hand down onto the smooth surface.
Leia pursed her lips, even as she braced her hands behind her on the counter's edge and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. "Ooh, I don't know. Won't Chewie obj—"
"Ah, screw Chewie," Han growled, only half in jest. With her assistance, he easily boosted her up to the counter's edge. She settled into place there and gave him an exhilarated smile.
He stepped into the space between her parted knees, looked her in the eye and murmured, "Right where you want me, Princess?"
"Closer," she whispered.
The softly-spoken word was like a match to dry tinder, launching Han's body back into a state of heightened anticipation in the span of a few heartbeats. He obeyed her command with alacrity, pressing forward and erasing the whisper of a gap that remained between them. The ever-present ache in his groin was at once soothed and exacerbated by the contact; it was both everything he needed, and not nearly enough. As their mouths met, Leia wrapped her thighs around his hips and urged him closer with gentle traction, until he was pressed fully, tightly against the warm crux of her body. Feeling a heavy surge of blood to his cock, he silently thanked himself for having used his time in the shower wisely; if he hadn't taken that precaution, he knew there was no way he could have lasted more than a few minutes in this position. He wanted her too much, and her heated enthusiasm for his touch was already driving him perilously close to the edge. He wasn't usually a praying man, but he sent up a wild plea to all the deities of the galaxy nevertheless, begging for an extra measure of stamina and self-restraint.
The diabolical gods put him immediately to the test, as Leia released a soft gasp against his lips. "I kind of like sneaking around," she confessed, casting a wary, delighted glance over his shoulder to the hatch and corridor beyond.
"Oh yeah?" Intrigued, Han filed that information away for future use even as he put his mouth to her ear and murmured, soft and low, "What else do you like?"
He pulled back just enough to see her face and was surprised to see a flicker of hesitation there, a wavering shadow of reserve that briefly darkened her eyes. It was only for the space of a heartbeat or two, but then she bit her lip and dropped her gaze, black lashes fanning down against the heated flush of her cheeks. For an instant, she presented the very image of a reticent maiden, but when she raised her eyes again, he saw how swiftly she was able to master her own nervous reservations. She slipped her hands down the sides of his torso to grip his hips and then pulled him gently forward. "What you did before," she breathed. "Do it again."
The certainty in her voice as she gave that soft command, combined with the feeling of her lithe frame pressing so intimately against his, tripped some override switch deep in Han's brain, sending his hands and his body into motion of their own accord. Before he had a chance to think, he curved his hands around the lush swell of her bottom, and pulled her fast against his groin, forcing light gasps from them both. Slowly, sensuously, he rocked his straining body against hers, as she ran her hands up his chest and then melted back against his supporting arm. Bracing one hand against the durachrome edge of the counter, Han peppered the warm skin of her throat with kisses, as he settled them into a languid, rolling rhythm that left them both panting, flushed and breathless with need. After a few exquisite moments, Leia sat upright again suddenly, clutching his shoulders and seeking his kiss, and he gave it freely, relishing the taste of her, groaning at the way she held him fast with her legs and threaded her fingers through his hair.
As they kissed, he sent both hands blindly skimming up and down over her ribs, feeling every heaving breath she took as she trembled against his palms. He grazed his thumbs enquiringly up the length of her sides, stroking her body through the thin fabric of her sleep shirt. He knew her breasts were unbound beneath that shirt; he could feel the tantalizing pressure of the taut peaks against his chest as she kissed him and rocked with him in delicious counterpoint to the subtle movements of his hips. He wanted desperately to touch her there—and he could tell that she wanted it, too.
Tightening one arm around her back, he slipped his free hand under the hem, warmly caressing her feminine curves as he explored her bare body for the first time. She jolted lightly at the first stroke of his thumb against her breast, but then she arched her back and pressed herself forward, straining to meet his roaming hand. Entranced by the feel of her skin and the sound of her heavy breathing, he complied with her unspoken request, warmly cupping the weight of one full breast in his palm and lightly grazing the hardened nipple with the pad of his thumb. The feel of her was exquisite, but the helpless sound she made in response to his touch was one he'd never heard from her before, a sort of pleading whimper that sent another heavy surge of energy straight down to his groin. Fuck, he didn't think he was going to survive the night with his dignity intact—not if she kept that up. Even so, every vein in his body pulsed with need, not just for his own release, but to make her cry out like that again.
Although it was torture of the sweetest kind, Han's suffering was marginally eased by the fact that the princess seemed as wildly far gone as he felt. He could feel it in the heat and softness of her body, pressed so intimately against his own, could see it in her hazy eyes as she drew back to meet his blurry gaze. The enveloping scent of her was intoxicating, and Han was suddenly and seriously worried that he wasn't going to be able to sit placidly beside her at the table in a few minutes' time, acting nonchalant and unaffected, while they shared a friendly nightcap with Chewie.
That thought finally penetrated the heavy fog of desire in which he was swimming, and he seized upon it before it drifted away again. With a tortured groan, he abruptly withdrew his hands from her body and then pushed himself away from her by sheer force of will. Leia let go of him with a startled exclamation and then dropped her hands into her lap and gave him an exaggerated pout that made him choke on a surprised laugh. Her sulky expression transformed into a bright smile, the kind that made her eyes crinkle up at the corners, and then she covered her glowing face with splayed hands and dropped her head back, shoulders shaking as she joined him for a moment in shared mirth at their own intensity.
Even putting a fair bit of space between them didn't seem to help that much, Han observed, as his own laughter subsided and he slumped back against the opposite counter. Heaving for breath, he stared slack-jawed at her across the gap, boggling again at the difference a day made. The sight of her so beautifully flushed and dishevelled—combined with the knowledge that he'd made her that way, and that she clearly wanted him to do it again—threatened his earlier resolve to take things slowly. His palm tingled with the memory of her plump breast in his hand, the stiff peak of it tightening under the skin of his thumb. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to turn away from her as he fought to pull his act together, but then chuckled ruefully along with her again as he heard her break into another cascade of smothered giggles behind him. He had all but decided that another cold shower was going to be in order the minute the 'fresher was free, when he heard Leia hop down from the counter and pad over to the sink beside him.
"I need water," she said hoarsely, as she reached up and grabbed a cup from the overhead cupboard and then stuck it under the autotap. She downed the first measure in one gulp and then refilled it, casting a twinkling glance up at him and then biting her lip. "You look like you could use some, too."
"Yeah, just dump it right over the top of my head," he returned dryly, then grinned as she snickered again. He took the proffered cup and brought it to his lips, watching her as she watched him.
As he drank deeply, he heard the distant but distinctive clank and whoosh of his bunk room hatch sliding open. Leia heard it too and slanted him a knowing glance. She waited until he'd swallowed the last of the water and set the cup aside, then stretched up on tiptoe with one hand braced against his chest, to press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.
"I love you," she whispered. "Can't wait to be alone with you again."
Then, having once again short-circuited his brain with her astonishing candour, she subsided with a demure smile and began backpedalling to the forward hatch, then swivelled around and set off in the direction of the central hold to wait for Chewie.
Han watched her depart and then stood alone in the galley for a long moment, too overcome to do more than gape after her in wonder, while his heart tried to find and resume a normal rhythm. He'd spent more than two years in Leia's company, observing and admiring practically everything about her. He thought he knew her very well already, but it was becoming clearer with every passing moment that there was still much more to learn.
The sound of Chewie's lumbering footsteps advancing along the corridor finally broke his inertia and spurred him into action. He shook his head to clear it and, working quickly, grabbed two stout tumblers and a larger squat cup from the overhead bin and then hurried to join the princess, hoping like hell he could get himself safely ensconced behind the table before his co-pilot showed up.