AN: Chapter Warning — Things get a bit NSFW in two sections

EVANESCENCE

(n.) the condition of being transitory, vanishing; something fleeting that fades from sight.

"You're in the Tatoo system," Han began quizzing her as they brought their dishes over to the galley's basin. Just finishing a late breakfast not long off Leia's watch, their focus was still on the stars. "You visually confirm a red planet, a blue planet, and a brown planet."

"Adriana, Ohann, and Tatooine," Leia competitively interposed with what she already knew was the answer.

"Right," he confirmed to her exultant grin. Her triumph was short-lived when he quickly added, "But you didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you?"

Her expression sparked with excitement at the challenge. "Fair enough. Bring it on."

Han's eyes narrowed mischievously and he matched her cheeky smile. "Okay: you see nine more points of light between you and the system's two suns. You're navigating to the second orbital position. Two adjacent bright lights — one red and white, one blue and white — and a cluster of lesser stars stand between your destination and Ohann. Where are you going?"

Leia deliberated; the truth was piloting this way was entirely new and foreign to her. She hadn't realized how much she had taken technology for granted until she'd learned from the temperamental Falcon that such comprehensive reliance could be a dangerous assumption. Without Han and Chewbacca's knowledge of old-school techniques in combination with an ability to improvise on the fly, they would all be dead by now. Years' worth of maintenance failures had taught her that. But when it came to navigation she had always solely relied on a ship's instruments, never seriously considered all that went into any other way, and was finding this ancient method excessively involved and arduous.

Waffling between a few different answers, Leia finally settled on, "Onar?"

"Nope." He shook his head in condolence. "Onar's the middle moon, the red and white light. The light between Ohann and the star cluster is its closest moon, where you were headed: Drystha."

"Of course." Leia closed her eyes, her forehead scrunching up in frustration. "I remember we went over them all." She usually picked things up with minimal effort and was aggravated not to do so now. "How could I have missed that?"

"Because you're not a seasoned and expert pilot, like myself," he swaggered.

"Yes, what was I thinking, imagining I could ever measure up to you?" she flippantly retorted.

"And because there are billions of stars and planets in the galaxy," Han replied, seriously now. "Takes times to learn them all, especially by sight alone. Don't be so hard on yourself," he advised. "At least you were close. You just got the wrong moon. That's pretty damn impressive for only a few days' study."

"I suppose," Leia conceded, walking back over to fetch their caf empty mugs.

Han watched her as she moved the few steps across the small room. She'd knotted his shirt up tight at her waist and was wearing her own thermal leggings today, meaning her clothing hugged her tiny but curvaceous form. He couldn't keep his eyes from tracking down and back up her captivating figure before he turned again to the dishes in the sink.

"Besides," he speculated suggestively, "you probably only missed it 'cos you were so distracted. Still thinking about our resuscitation lesson." He nodded toward the open doorway and the engineering bay beyond with a flirtatious wink.

Leia snorted a laugh at the reference to Threepio's ill-timed and clueless entrance the day he'd discovered them kissing on the bay floor — Han lying on top of her — and mistook their amorous activities for a medical emergency. "That wasn't the reason, but it's a plausible enough excuse." Her eyes went smoky and her tone matched as she thought back on it. "I did particularly enjoy that last part of the 'resuscitation'. You do excellent ground work, Captain."

Coming up beside him, she went on tip-toes. When that still wasn't enough, Leia tugged at his shirt sleeve while stepping her socked feet onto the top of his boots for a boost up.

"You tryin' to climb me like a tree?" he grinned.

"I'm trying to get closer through any means necessary," she told him around a pert smile of her own.

"I like the idea of closer — I'm all for closer — but you're going about it wrong." Hands at her waist, Han guided them around and back to their stools. Sitting down to even out their heights, he pulled Leia to him still standing. "Now we can get real close…"

Her hands slid up his shoulders to curve around the sides of his neck, sighing softly as she melted into his arms. He arched his neck up to brush her nose with his and the tips of her breasts grazed his collarbone as she leaned in. Leia kept their mouths just sigh of touching, savoring the desire and anticipation that washed over her at almost but not quite there.

Han felt that eager tension, too, and with a greedy sound deep in his throat, he skimmed his hands down from her waist, pausing to appreciate the flare of her hips beneath his palms before moving them down to the backs of her thighs and drawing her in against him to let her feel his growing hardness. Giving a low appreciative whimper, Leia finally brought her mouth to his, her lips cradling his lower one and nibbling softly. She slipped her left hand down the side of his body to grip low at his ribs, holding him there pressed steady against her pelvic bone as she swept her tongue into his mouth.

For Han, it proved a stimulating impetus too powerful to resist and he surged up from the stool with a grunt, throwing his arm back to steady them against the floor as he pulled Leia down to lie on top of him.

Enjoying the feeling of him firm beneath her, she braced up on her forearms to look down at him and found the new position only increased the pleasing pressure at their fused lower bodies. Han gazed back, his pupils dilated, the remaining rim gone a deep forest green — all longing, lust, and fire. It set off the flame in Leia, too, and she gave herself up to the physicality of it, running her hand in exploratory yearning over his chest. His muscles jumped responsively beneath her palm and she squeezed his pec, diving back at his mouth.

Han slide his hand down to the small of her back as he kissed her. His fingers crept beneath the hem of her rucked up shirt to stroke bare skin and Leia shivered hungrily. Needing to feel more of him, she hooked her hands onto his shoulders and hitched her leg up over his hip for leverage. Han groaned approvingly, shifting his mouth from hers to suck at her neck while his hand glided down to cup her ass, keeping her there locked onto him.

She wasn't sure how it happened: somehow she moved against him at the same time he moved against her and the resultant friction was so exquisitely arousing that Leia gasped aloud, her eyes flying open.

At her gasp, one that sounded more like surprise than straightforward delight, Han abruptly stopped kissing her, urging Leia back enough to see her face. "You okay?"

"Y-yes…yes." He continued to look at her, expecting more — especially after that shaky answer — and Leia bit her lip around an emerging grin. "I just…Han, that felt really good," she admitted.

He smirked, that crooked half-smile of his, and it further fired her blood. "'S supposed to feel good, Sweetheart."

Leia smiled again, self-deprecatingly now. "I know. I do. I just wasn't expecting it." She felt silly — of course feeling good was the point; she shouldn't have been taken aback. But it was still so new, doing these things with Han, having it be real and not just a product of her imagination, actually allowing herself to live them after years of dismissing even the thoughts as off-limits.

He pressed an affectionate kiss to her temple. "A little unexpected pleasure is a good thing, Leia. If I have my way," he told her, ducking back in to nip just beneath her jaw, "by the time this trip is over, you'll be so used to unexpected pleasure you won't even bat an eye."

"I'll hold you to that, Hotshot," she promised, bending in for a soft, gentle kiss.

When she pulled back, Han smiled, patting her hip. "Come on, let's get you up." Wrapping an arm around her while using the other to push off the ground, he lifted them both back to their feet. "Don't know what I was thinkin' anyway, taking you down to the galley floor," he chided himself. "You're a princess for kest's sake."

She gave him a sultry look and her tone went alluring, broadening his thoughts to consider, "Maybe princesses like to be taken on a galley floor."

He went still for a solid moment before moving again, and even then it was just to blink dazed eyes at her. "When you use that bedroom voice on me, Leia, you destroy me."

His tone had dipped down in kind, into the deep rumbling register that usually got her going, so he was thrown when Leia's response wasn't another kiss but a cheeky retort: "I know. That's why I do it."

Han smirked at her again; god, he was crazy about her. "How would this princess like it on the galley counter?" he alluringly rejoined.

The Falcon's galley had only one countertop and when he lifted Leia up onto it, it was the perfect level to put them exactly face-to-face. "There. Takes you from princess height to—"

"Smuggler height?" she archly cut in as her hands found his shoulders again.

"I was gonna say normal human height, but we can go with smuggler if it makes you feel better."

"Smart aleck," she teased, tugging lightly at the scruffy hair at the nape of his neck.

"Ow. Better be nice, Worship, or you'll have to find yourself a new navigational teacher."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Who's bein' a smart ass now, huh? Get over here, Highness." She yelped in surprise as he swooped in and wrapped an arm around her hips, drawing her to the edge of the counter and closer to him. "Now, let me study these star charts," he said, moving his forefinger up to trace a path of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"They won't be difficult to chart this close up," she professed in a tone that made it clear she was less than fond of her many freckles.

"These charts are adorable," Han opined, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You're sweet, but—"

"I'm not sweet," he instantly interjected, dismayed at the notion. "I'm a scoundrel."

"—but," Leia continued ignoring his interruption, "there are too many of them to chart. They're sprinkled down my neck, and across my shoulders and back." Her mother used to call them lindas sardas, beautiful little freckles, but even as a child Leia could never work up any affection for them. "I can't think of anything more tedious than trying to trace them."

"Ain't nothing tedious about you. And it'll be plenty stimulating." He leaned in close, confiding in a low whisper, "I plan on using my mouth."

Han nuzzled his face into her neck, his breath warm and erotic across her skin as he began mapping from freckle to freckle, pressing a kiss to each mark and trailing his tongue in-between; taking his time with his mouth even as his fingers stroked up the length of her leg, putting his all into getting her turned on.

"This exciting enough for you?" he murmured against her ear before taking the lobe between his lips and working it with his teeth.

"I don't know," Leia demurred as if unimpressed, but her breathy voice gave her away and she shortly dropped all pretexts. "I think you need more territory, Flyboy." Reaching up, with a quick flick of her wrist she unfastened the top closure of her shirt then slowly peeled the diagonal flap open, exposing her bra to him.

Her nipples stood peaked in excitement, and at the sight, Han experienced an immediate surge of heat and an answering stirring in his groin. Dipping his mouth down, he kissed the swell of first one breast and then the other, his lips following along with the rise and fall of her quickened breath.

She wanted him closer — he was touching her, kissing her, but it still wasn't close enough; they were still too far apart. She skewed her knees to the right of his hips to pull his torso fully against hers, and Han stopped kissing her, lifting his face from her chest to look down at her with hot intent.

He took a step back to stand directly in front of her bent knees, where he enticingly proposed, "How 'bout we try it this way?"

Holding her gaze, Han curled his large palms over her kneecaps and slowly, purposefully parted her legs. The action alone was enough to set off a warm, urgent throbbing at her core.

Leia expected him to place himself between her legs, and he did step there, his eyes scorching on hers, but he didn't bring their bodies flush. She couldn't deny a sense of disappointment that he held his hips apart. Until he ran his hands from her knees up her inner thighs and any frustrated expectation gave way to present, pressing desire. She brought her hands up to cup his neck and urged his mouth back to hers.

For several long minutes they kissed passionately. Han kept his hips held just far enough back, an enticing almost-presence that got her body aching for more — more, more. And then, finally, he inched his leg up to the apex of her legs, using only the strong, broad width of his thigh to press up against her sex.

Leia audibly whimper-gasped, shivering with pleasure.

"Kriff." The helpless curse tumbled from Han's lips, witnessing her reaction. "You're wound tight as I am."

Color spread across Leia's already lust-heated cheekbones. "I didn't mean—"

"Don't be embarrassed." He brushed his lips across her cheeks. "I like it. I like the way you respond to me."

She leaned in to join their mouths again and Han indulged the kiss for a moment, his tongue sliding readily against hers in a hot caress. Then he pulled back to watch her face as he stroked his hand up her hip to her waist, then over her ribcage up to the side of her breast.

He kept his thumb just shy of her pebbled nipple and it was maddening to Leia — simultaneously so much and not enough. "I want you," rushed out of her in a tremulous whisper, thought-to-speech before she could stop it.

"I love that," he stressed. "I love that you want me. I love watching you want me," he confessed, and his tone was equally affected in a way that gratified her; to know she wasn't in this alone, that he burned just as hot for her. "I want to make you feel good, Leia…"

He pressed his thigh up between her legs again, stimulating her and eliciting an enthusiastic moan. The need for him was irrepressible now and she tentatively met him with a gentle counter pressure. At the flood of pleasure that brought, Leia began softly rubbing herself against his thigh in earnest. It was easily the sexiest thing that had ever happened to Han.

His mouth latched onto the side of her neck, ravenous and insatiable at her soft skin, fingers gripping her hip as he continued a rhythm of push-and-withdraw with his thigh, his toned quadriceps working over the crux of her again and again; tantalizing, arousing to a fever pitch.

Han bit at her throat just as he allowed his thumb to graze her nipple and she jerked involuntarily against him, panting out, "Goddess." He felt her arch needfully into his leg, seeking even more contact, her thighs shaking around his, and he added a steady circular motion to his stroke, finding a spot that pleased her and focusing his efforts there.

With her urgently rubbing against his thigh in tandem, Leia felt the pressure begin to build to a crescendo that teetered on the edge of plummeting over. But rather than chase that delicious tumble she resisted it. The strength of its pull made her panic; all she wanted in the entire galaxy — the only thing that existed for her in the moment — was for Han to plunge her over into ecstasy. And suddenly that felt overwhelming; not only to want and need someone that much but in total reversal of who she thought she was, who she'd made herself into after Alderaan. It was a shift too sharp — so much, so fast — and she wasn't ready for it.

Whatever the reason, Leia knew at once it wasn't right for her. This wasn't how she wanted to come for the first time with a man — with Han — propped up on the galley counter of his temperamental freighter, its current malfunctions the only thing keeping him there with her.

"Han. Han."

Han had felt her tense up in his arms before she spoke and had already stopped his caresses. "It's okay, we can stop. We'll stop," he immediately reassured her.

Easing back, he stepped from between Leia's thighs and she compressed them together.

"We're just exploring, right? Discovering what you like. There's no pressure," he promised. "Just trying stuff out."

Her fingers worked to refasten her shirt as she attempted to offer up an explanation for her sudden reversal. "I'm…." She didn't know how to finish that sentence: hesitant; wary; guarded; still unprepared to open up to you that completely. Any of those choices were true. In the end, she said, "I'm sorry."

She couldn't have known how those quietly spoken words would pierce his heart. "Sweetheart, don't be sorry."

"It's only that I'm not sure I'm ready to—"

"Leia, it's okay," Han repeated gently but with added conviction.

He stepped further back so she could hop down from the counter, but she didn't move, though her gaze did track down his body before meeting his eyes again. "What about you? You must not be getting a terrible lot out of this."

His laughing scoff at that suggestion only underscored her point.

"Or — or maybe too much," Leia reiterated. "I know it's been a long time for you, and you're…" She directed her eyes meaningfully down to his visually apparent erection. "…that you need us to—"

"Hey, don't ever worry about that," Han interjected. He ran agitated fingers through his hair, pissed at himself if he'd ever given her that impression. "I never want you thinking you have to—"

"Of course I know it doesn't mean I have to," Leia interposed. "I don't think there's any sort of obligation. Han, you know me enough to know I could never be compelled to do something I don't want to do. But I also care about you…and I know that can't be comfortable, getting you so aroused and then never doing anything about it."

Saying it aloud made her feel immature and childish. She was an adult, she wanted him and he wanted her, and he'd even told her that he had feelings for her. They were stuck here, with all this opportunity and nothing but time alone. It seemed the fates had aligned; certainly, the time to come together should be now. So why was she holding back? What was wrong with her?

Sensing her emotional turmoil, Han took her hands in his. "Sweetheart, listen to me: if you're even the smallest bit unsure, then it's a no-go for me, too. I don't want you feeling pressured, for any reason, ever. That's not how I want us to end up in bed together."

"I know, but you—"

"Like you said, Leia, we both got hands. If it comes down to it, I know how to take care of myself. That's not something you gotta worry about — it's not something I even want you to consider," he insisted. "Kest, it has been years; by now, I know all about how to deal with getting aroused by you."

Leia had grown quiet and Han cursed himself for pushing her too far. What was wrong with him? Yes, he wanted her. He wanted them to do all manner of things to and with one another — everything they both could think of, and then turn around and start all over again. But he wanted her to want it, fully and freely, with no reservations. Nothing else would do, for either one of them.

He just hoped he hadn't traumatized her. "Are you alright, mielo?" he asked tenderly.

It took her a moment to answer, in which Han's anxiety only grew, until she at last murmured a faint, "Mm-hmm."

Leia had replied absently, belatedly realizing he'd even asked her a question. Her mind was held fast to its preoccupying thoughts — and it had done nothing to help when he'd spoken to her in his native tongue. Collecting herself, she reiterated, "I'm fine, Han. Really, I am. I just got distracted…imagining that. You. Aroused." Her eyebrow rose pointedly. "'Dealing' with it."

"Shavit, Leia," Han hissed, his eyes going near black with heat.

She'd guessed early-on that his nightly showers were of the cold sonic variety, and further surmised it likely he took care of himself during them in ways that went far beyond bathing before he came to join her in his bunk. It seemed the only explanation for such stringent, unbroken self-control without any of the flirtation, advances, or even kisses that took place outside of the bedroom.

A sensual smile stretched over Leia's lips as she admitted, "I like the thought of you thinking of me when you do that."

There was a lot Han could have said to that: he jerked off to thoughts of her all the time; it had been years since he'd thought of anything else while doing it; it was more than thoughts alone: he'd been aided by holos of her, held a shirt she'd left behind to his nose, once even used one of her hair ties — it was the soft, coiled kind, still smelled of her shampoo, and felt amazing around his cock.

He kept all that to himself, however, only giving a sexy smirk before saying, "Good, now I don't have to feel weird about three years' worth of picturing you."

"I've thought about you that way, too," she was quick to reveal. "And it's not that I didn't want you just now, only that I've never done this in front of — with — another person before, and I'm—"

"It's alright. You don't have to explain."

"No, but I want to. I want to explain. I want to understand it better myself." Leia let out a perturbed huff of air. "Because I do want you, kriff, how I've wanted you. But I'm still…" She trailed off, irritated with herself.

It should be simple. What could be simpler? It was primal, written into their very DNA. But with Leia Organa nothing was simple, was it? Apparently, she just had to overthink everything. It was a frustrating quality, but she couldn't help it.

She couldn't help that, to her, it seemed so precarious, so delicate and risky a thing to navigate. That any step into sexual waters, even just dipping one's toes in this way, was fraught with complications, at least when emotions were involved — and hers inextricably were.

"It just suddenly felt like a lot. It felt…monumental." She wanted him to understand the struggle she was having, but knew she was coming up short. There was a fine line between explaining too little, thereby risking misinterpretation, and outright revealing that her difficulties lie with being in love with him, a declaration she wasn't ready to make when their future remained uncertain.

"Worship," Han smiled kindly, "I sure as hell hope me making you come won't be something that rare."

"That isn't what I meant." But Leia was smiling now, too, a fresh flush of color brightening her cheeks. "Not monumental like rare. Monumental as in important. Significant. Certainly different, sharing that with you."

"Okay." He nodded supportively. "Okay, I think I get that. And whatever, however, you feel is valid. Don't mean to diminish that. But, Leia…"

He didn't want to appear the typical male in this — not just avoid seeming that way; he genuinely didn't want even the hint of pressuring her — so he knew he needed to broach this carefully. Yet, he did think she was overemphasizing the significance of allowing him to pleasure her in such a minimal way. "You know, it doesn't have to be any different than when you do it by yourself."

Though Han braced himself for a negative reaction, Leia wasn't offended by his opinion. She thought of herself as relatively self-aware and could admit she was outside of her element here, much more so in his. As such, she sincerely wanted to know his thoughts on the matter just the same as she would have if they were undertaking a mission on a planet he had more knowledge of than she did.

"Isn't it more vulnerable?" she questioned, wondering how it could not be. "Being so free with another person, so open and seen? Letting them know how they affect you? To be so completely in thrall to them?"

"Anything can have a physical effect on you; that's just your body. Doesn't follow that it means something," he spoke from his experience. "It's only vulnerable if you let it be. Just 'cos you're being intimate, you don't have to be open. You can keep up a barrier. You don't have to connect with the other person. Then it's just pleasure. It's just sensation, instinctive and reflexive. No different than your own hand."

"And that's how you did it?" Leia astutely inferred. "With the women in your past."

Han was reluctant to answer that. As long as both parties were clear going in, he didn't see any wrong in pleasure freely given and taken. Still, he wasn't proud of every sexual encounter he'd ever had. As he'd gotten older — no, hells, the real truth of it had nothing to do with age and everything to do with falling for Leia — most of those encounters seemed sordid to him now. What's more, he'd come to realize emotions were messy things. While he'd always been upfront with partners and never made them any promises, that didn't and couldn't stop a being from wanting more and feeling hurt when they didn't get it — years of pining for Leia had profoundly taught him that. Any way he looked at it, although not inherently wrong, sex for the sake of sex with an absolute stranger hardly seemed laudable and with an old friend was dicey at best, and either scenario was definitely not anything he wanted to discuss with her.

If he owned up to it, even vaguely, would Leia be disappointed in him? Disgusted by it? To his mind, either was a fair reaction considering how contrastingly careful and particular she'd been with herself. But he'd never lied to get someone into bed and he wasn't about to start with her, so he didn't shy away from the truth. "Yeah. I wasn't underhanded about it; everyone knew what it was. But yeah, that's what I did."

Leia absorbed his answer a moment, not shocked — she'd presumed that was his attitude toward sex from the time they met — but concerned to hear how that approach might apply to them. "Is that what you're doing now?" she asked, careful to keep her tone free from any accusation; her goal wasn't to belittle or judge, simply to understand where they stood.

To her surprise, Han laughed outright. "With you?" He gave another genuine belly-laugh that seemed incongruent to the conversation until he explained, "Leia, with you, it's not a question of letting it be more. There's never been a choice. It already was more, way before we'd ever done a thing about it." He shrugged as if it were purely a natural fact of the galaxy; like gravity, a force that simply was. "'S just the way it is with us. There's no holding back or shutting it off; that's not even an option. There's never been anything like you in my life. You were more. You are more. You'll always be more."

The smile that overcame Leia then, the rush of love at hearing those words, was just as helpless and unstoppable. She wrapped her arms around him, basking in the knowledge that what they had between them was unique for them both. Han set his forehead to hers and for a moment that was enough, just to let his nearness and her love for him engulf her.

"You're trembling again," he whispered against her lips.

"That's because it's more for me, too. You're more," Leia murmured, kissing him again. It already felt like too long since the last time, though it had to have been minutes at most.

He was just sliding his tongue over hers — in response, Leia hooked her fingers into his belt to pull him nearer, opening her legs to make room — when Chewie ambled into the galley. Despite the size and lumber of a Wookiee, they were so immersed in each other that neither noticed him until he spoke.

[I prepare my food on that counter. It's only reasonable to request you take your copulation elsewhere.]

"Kriff off, Chewie," Han dismissed his partner, still hoping the mood could be salvaged with Leia, but she was already gently nudging him aside and sliding down from the countertop.

"We weren't…doing that," she assured Chewbacca, "but we'll try to be more mindful of others in the future." She shot Han a stern glance meant to convey that she took Chewbacca's grievance seriously and so should he. After all, they were compelled to share a small space for weeks more; it was only fair to consider everyone's needs.

Chewie hadn't meant to interrupt them, and when he unintentionally had his objective was only to gently bait — mess with them, Cub would call it — but he saw now that his actions had spoiled their tryst. [I am sorry], he told Leia. [Truthfully, I did not know you were in here together.]

To Han, he explained, [The scent of Little Princess's alurite soap dulled your pheromones. Your scents are so often mingled now, it makes it difficult to distinguish yours separately, or that the two of you were in heat. Otherwise I would have left you to it. By all the wisdom of the wroshyr tree, that's certainly what needs to happen.]

"Quit tellin' us we need to get laid and go grab whatever you came in here for," Han groused.

Chewie made for the chiller and swiftly snatched out a bottle of beer, handing another to Han. [Little Princess?] he asked.

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

Chewbacca shut the chiller door and headed back out — but not before growling over his shoulder, [You have my permission to continue. Just wipe down the counter afterwards.]

"Get outta here, fuzzball!" Han called after him.

Once they were truly alone again, he looked back to Leia, expecting embarrassment or at the very least hesitancy. He was caught by surprise when she giggled.

"I'm not sorry," she gleefully declared. "But Chewie has a point. We'll have to be more careful. You can't really blame him; we were in a shared space."

"Worship, I'll go in whatever space you say," Han pledged seductively.

She rolled her eyes, nevertheless laughing at his double entendre. "I'm sure you will. I've been sure of that since Yavin. Most Rebel personnel are, in fact, aware."

"What's this, Highness?" he provoked, enfolding her back into his arms. "You sayin' I failed at keeping that close to the vest? Doesn't sound like me…"

"I think you thought you were being subtle," she teased right back, "but since you were frequently in the habit of publicly propositioning me, I would say no. You wanting to sleep with me any time and in any way I'd agree to wasn't exactly a secret."

"Hmm, figure that means I must not care who knows it."

"It seems so."

Leia tipped her chin up to him and he swooped down to eagerly meet her invitation. She drew back when the kiss ended but kept her arms about his waist, her fingers stroking his sides. "I did like it," she admitted.

"That I was obvious about wantin' you?"

"That too," she acknowledged, "but I was talking about what we did on the counter. I liked it a lot…"

"Yeah?" His hands slid down to meet at the small of her back, his voice loaded with carnal interest. "You liked that, huh?"

She nodded, holding his eye provocatively as she softly requested, "I'd like to do it again."

"You're sure?"

Leia's reply was immediate and wholehearted. "Absolutely."

Han's throat went dry, an excited quiver shooting through his belly.

"Only next time," she continued, "instead of your leg, you could use your — your hips, your…" She faltered, at an impasse over what she would call it.

Han seemed to have already taken her point. Even as he took a swig from his bottle his brow arched in challenge, keen on making her say it, and she felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

Still, Leia forced herself to be direct. She'd made a point of how her inexperience didn't make her prudish, and she wouldn't be about this. She would be brave and bold in telling him what she wanted. "The next time, I'll wrap my legs around your waist so we can rub our sexes together."

He may have dared her but Leia unquestionably won the point. Han didn't think her prudish. Quite the reverse; he choked on his beer, nearly doing a spit-take.

He didn't know which was more jarring, the quant way she'd put it or the intense reaction the very idea caused. Here he was telling her not to worry about his physical needs — and he truly didn't want that anywhere on her radar as a concern — but kriff, she was going to kill him. He'd gone almost painfully hard at her casual suggestion they dry hump…The imagery, the phantom sensations that intention alone evoked were enough to drive him to distraction.

Han hadn't considered himself dangerously close to going off in his pants since he was a teenager, but with Leia it seemed a distinct possibility. He wasn't about to tell her that, though, and spook her. Nor was he going to refuse anything she wanted him to do with her.

"Yeah, Sweetheart," he answered, still in something of a daze. "Yeah, we'll try that."

Leia nodded, satisfied. "But not now. Now we should get to work on the communications system, or we really will never hear the end of it from Chewie."

She started off through the door and toward the hallway, evidently leaving the dishes for later in her attempt to make amends with Chewbacca. Giving, a bemused sigh, Han followed stiffly after her.

Either he was going to learn some amazing lessons in self-control on this trip, or unresolved sexual tension with Leia Organa was finally going to be the death of him. But what a way to go! He couldn't remember a time when he was happier.

They were lying together, bare and tangled up on his bunk, Han kissing and touching her intimately. His fingers were as deft on her sex as they were on the Falcon's controls, and already she was close. She could feel the hot hardness of his cock throbbing rigid and ready against her inner thigh as he shifted over her, breaking their kiss to look down at her in tender question. The answer — the only one she ever remembered wanting to give him — eagerly tumbled from her lips, transforming his expression to a blend of relief, anticipation, and love.

"Yes. Han, yes," she repeated as he slowly entered her. And suddenly they were no longer on the Falcon's bunk but now on a large, luxurious bed of silk and satin with an open sky of pink-hued clouds overhead. Leia's eyes fell closed, too lost in it all to question the change in scenery. All she knew was Han above her, inside her, and that was more than enough.

She couldn't decide which part she liked better, the physical sensations themselves or the fact that it was Han causing them. It was all so good — so very good — their bodies speaking to each other on some intense, primal level.

He reached down to touch her again, his thumb rubbing soft circles against her clit as he began to make love to her in earnest with a series of hard, steady thrusts that left her pelvis arching up needfully towards his. Han ground against her in response, all it took was a moment, and her hips quivered and bucked uncontrollably as she cried out in pleasure.

Then everything changed.

Before her climax could even finish, she abruptly sensed that something was deeply wrong; a heavy cloak of trepidation descended on her, cutting short her ecstasy. All at once anxious, she reached up for Han, but he was gone. No longer inside her. No longer above her. Nowhere to be seen at all.

She pushed herself upright, climbing off the mysterious bed, and instantaneously the bed was gone. The room itself was different again, this new one an open and foreboding cavern. She stepped forward into it, now fully clothed in her snowsuit from Hoth, and could see the space was backlit in an intense blue that in other circumstances would be pretty were it not for the overwhelming sense of dread and terror. With the blue came an odd sort of ominous yellow-orange light and…steam? Yes, steam or some form of mist, a warm vapor billowing up and filling the space around her, further shrouding it. The heat and the bright orange-yellow glow from below would make her fear the room was on fire except that she could feel the humid dampness of it.

She looked around in a panic, desperately searching out Han even as she called his name. Finally, she spotted him just on the edge of the nebulous blue-gold distance. Yet he didn't — wouldn't — come to her.

He must see her. He was looking right at her.

….But now he was moving backwards, pulling away from her.

His eyes were locked heavy on hers, though he didn't say a word as he drifted further and further from her outstretched arms while she raced fruitlessly toward him, screaming, "HAN! No, no! Come back!"

Leia woke with a start, her heart pounding, sweat pooling between her breasts and at her lower back. In a fog, caught somewhere between a lingering sense of terror and the phantom ache in her core from a half-realized orgasm that carried over into the real world, she hastily sat up and looked around her.

As the seconds ticked by her mind cleared and she identified that she was safe in the Falcon's bunk. Still on the Falcon. Still with Han. Still on their way to Bespin.

Leia began to relax. It was just a dream, she thought with a sense of relief, her heartrate gradually slowing. Another dream gone awry. Expecting the sight of Han would further calm her, she glanced down — only to find that he wasn't lying beside her. Han was, indeed, gone.

The spike of panic returned, throwing her into confusion over what was and wasn't reality. His bunk. The sex. The pink-sky room. The hazy and ominous one after….that had been especially vivid, so real and tangible as if she'd been living it in real time. Now she didn't know what to make of it.

It couldn't have been real. Just like that time on Nalday, her logical mind knew there was no way it could have actually happened. And yet it felt as if it had, as if she had experienced it. On Nalday, she'd dismissed it away as an intense wish, but she would never wish for what came beyond the pink room, never wish for Han to abandon her. So if it wasn't a wish, was it…a warning? Not what she had experienced but what she could?

Han, oblivious to any of it, came walking out of the fresher. He took one look at Leia's flushed face and visibly upset features and hurried over to sit beside her on the bunk. "You have a nightmare, Sweetheart?" he asked consolingly.

She shook her head. "No." Although that was exactly what it was, wasn't it? It just wasn't Alderaan or Vader for once. "Well, yes. I guess. Just not that kind. Not a night terror, not a memory, not — You. I couldn't find you."

"Did you think the ol' Walking Carpet finally had enough and tossed me out the airlock?" Han brushed aside a stray hair that was stuck with sweat to her temple. "Naw, if anyone was gonna do that it would've been you, Worship."

Leia didn't respond, not even a smile or laugh, and he bent down to reevaluate her. "You're really shook, aren't you? 'M sorry." He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "Didn't mean to scare you. Just was gettin' late, almost 0830. Past time to take over for Goldenrod, let him shut down — Thank the Maker," Han imitated with a grin, hoping to get a smile out of her yet.

She didn't bite, though, and still looked unnerved.

Leia's preferred coping mechanism after bad dreams was to get her mind off of them — talk about anything but what she'd dreamt — so he prattled on, deciding to go about his morning routine as if all was normal.

"You were still sleeping, so I thought I'd let you stay in bed." Han shrugged casually, dropping one more kiss to her cheek before getting up and crossing the room to retrieve his belt from the chair.

"Is it my turn?" Leia asked blurrily, still fully waking, still in a state of recovery from the dream and its jarring juxtaposition of delight and disaster.

"Yeah," he confirmed as he fastened his belt, "but I'm up, I'll go. It's not a big deal. Stay in bed for as long as you want. You can take over whenever you're ready."

He realized the dream must have been bad when she didn't even try to argue. He had a mind to stay there with her, get her to open up about what was bothering her from it, but he knew how she resisted talking about the nightmares. "I'm gonna go, then."

Leia nodded, watching Han's retreating form until the door cycled closed behind him.

Once alone, she sat back against the pillows, her brow furrowing as she rehashed the details of the dream. Some parts of it flat-out didn't make sense. Namely, the odd nondescript rooms — really just portions of rooms; she hadn't seen the totality of either of them. But the more she considered it the rooms did make a kind of sense. Both the nice one and the frightening one had an almost clichéd aspect, like a stereotypical conjuring of heaven versus hell.

Leia was too perceptive not to recognize all this mysteriousness held a fairly straightforward explanation. The dream was clearly a subconscious amalgamation of everything she had been suppressing. Her longing, her desire, her fears, her dread — all surrounding the issue most salient to her: Han's upcoming departure.

That was the thing about this trip, the flip side of the credit chip she'd only gotten past by refusing to think about. On the one hand, this unintentionally long trip was a lovely respite with Han that came without the burden of guilt. As long as she kept careful blinders on. Because, on the other hand, this trip was a kind of gallows walk. Every day they were heading inescapably toward a finite deadline with a sure conclusion at its end.

Han leaving was once inevitable, then eventual. Base after base, it became potential. Now it was certain, sure, would have already happened were it not for the battle on Hoth. They were locked into an ever-decreasing countdown and she could scarcely see a way where this could possibly end well for them. The odds were overwhelmingly against it, and while Han may not listen to odds, Leia had learned from life that she couldn't afford not to.

As soon as they hit Bespin, Han was as good as gone.

That must be what her dream was trying to tell her. Trying to warn her that to be with Han in that way would mean pleasure that quickly turned to pain, climax immediately followed by desertion. It was a disturbing warning to contemplate, but even more disturbing that she couldn't deny the validity of it.

Leia thought of Dream Han walking away backwards and watching her all the while, viewing her devastation, fully aware of his abandonment but not doing a damn thing to stop it.

The mirroring reality of that irked her.

It had this entire time if she was honest with herself, but she'd managed to successfully repress it until now. Maybe that's what the dream truly was: a refusal of her doubts, fears, and resentments to be repressed any longer.

And who would blame her? How could it sit right with her?

Just as soon as repairs were made in Bespin and he got her back to the fleet, Han was leaving her behind. That was a definite fact that absolutely was going to happen. It didn't matter what she said or did. It didn't matter if she cried or pleaded. His mind was made up — and it was a choice he'd made entirely without her, a fact that continued to both rankle and hurt her.

For if they were truly a team, even truly friends, they wouldn't come to firm life-altering decisions without the other's input. Particularly when it was not only something this pivotal but in fact the chief obstacle to their relationship from the start.

No matter what it may have felt like for the past weeks, catching a ride out of Hoth on the Falcon hadn't averted emotional disaster, merely postponed it. Her dream was just a portent of the dark reality she'd been refusing to face: this trip to Bespin was nothing more than a ticking-timer counting down to more loss and anguish.

AN: The reference to 'when it happened on Nalday' is a callback to my other story "Playing With Fire" and the vision Leia had there.