Respite
If someone had told Leia Organa that she would be stuck for weeks on an old freighter crawling across the distant edge of the galaxy and that she would spend the majority of that time in bed with Han Solo, she would have refused to believe it.
The sex — well, the sex she might have believed, depending on the day. But the other, no: she would never have accepted that she of all people would waste precious hours, in the middle of a war no less, sleeping the days away. There was just too much to do; if pressed, she could have rattled off half a dozen tasks that even separated from the fleet would easily claim her attention.
But it soon became obvious that the deadline for those tasks was weeks in the future when they were scheduled to arrive at Bespin. And even that wasn't the true end point; presumably some days later they would rejoin the fleet and only then would her loyal dedication have paid off. So there was no need to rush things. After all, it would make more sense to tackle those items toward the end of the voyage so they would be fresh in her mind on arrival.
Fortunately it hadn't taken her long to reach that conclusion.
Early on in their journey they had slipped into his cabin after an abbreviated lunch, Leia pulling him out of the booth after he had spent half the meal nuzzling her neck. I can't stop thinking about you, Princess. Do you have any idea what you do to me? She jammed her tongue down his throat and his hand was already under her bra by the time they reached the hatch. It was quick and fierce and revelatory, a true fuck this time, like diving into cold water on a hot day.
Afterwards she collapsed onto the mattress, her limbs heavy and tingling. Stay here and rest, Sweetheart, he urged, pressing his lips to her shoulder. But her stubborn sense of responsibility was unable to accept a lack of duties and she roused herself out of bed only to find herself back at the table with a stack of datapads waiting for her inputs. Datapads that she had no interest in even turning on.
Clearly she should have stayed in bed.
So the next time they finished their post-meal interlude in his bunk, when she was flushed and sated and his body was curled around hers, she made no effort to resist the sleep lapping at the edges of consciousness. It felt indescribably good to wake up hours later refreshed in the knowledge that nothing demanded her attention. They had weeks, weeks, ahead of them, and she was finally ready to accept that reality.
Once she had a taste of true relaxation, her body demanded more. More time with Han in bed. More hours spent laughing and drinking in the booth. More lazy afternoons in the cockpit, curled up in his lap, talking of nothing and everything. Deep in the recesses of her mind she knew the more she luxuriated in this respite the sharper and more unforgiving the re-entry into normal life. But she didn't care.
In a way it felt good to give up. After all, she had never given up before. Not when she was captured by the Empire, not when her planet was destroyed, not when the depths of the war threatened to overwhelm them all. Years of willing herself around obstacles, through uncertainty and fear, had conditioned her to resort to work when everything crumbled around her. Now trapped on the Falcon, it was easy to convince herself that she was long overdue for a breather.
Time advanced unevenly. Mornings spent on lingering maintenance tasks could stretch comfortably to the point that upon checking the chrono she was astonished to discover they had only been awake for a few hours. Afternoons that began as a quick tumble in Han's bunk skipped ahead until it was suddenly time to figure out what to make for dinner. A single day-cycle could feel like a month; yet when she stopped to count them up, she was surprised to discover how many had passed.
One afternoon they had temporarily exhausted themselves and were lingering under the sheets, fingers clasped lazily together. Leia mentally added the current day to the sum total and was relieved that there were still more days remaining than had elapsed. For now, anyway. She idly wondered if Han was doing a similar calculation or whether his usual blithe temperament endured fully intact.
He sensed her watching him and opened an eye. "You look like you're thinking way too hard over there."
"Mmmm." The nagging thoughts drifted away as she rolled closer and kissed his shoulder. "You'll just have to distract me again."
"Damn right I will." The sheet undulated above his hand as it roamed leisurely across her body. Early on she would have been impatient for his attentions to narrow, for the increased pressure of his touch. But days and days of erotic exploration had calmed her nervous energy and taught her the pleasure of waiting, of anticipating, of drawing it out.
His hand came to rest on her hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the protruding bone. A peace unlike any she had ever experienced washed over her and she held her breath, willing the feeling to stay.
"Tired?" he murmured.
"Not yet," she breathed. "You?"
"Never. Never with you." She closed her eyes as he nosed her temple. "You know how long I've thought about this?"
"I can only guess. But I'm sure you'll tell me one of these days."
"Don't play coy with me, Princess. I know you thought about this too." He shook his head. "I don't buy that innocent act for a moment."
She rolled her eyes. "Did you ever? I would have thought that night we spent outside years ago would have disabused you of that notion."
"That's right," he recalled. Then peeking under the sheet: "I thought that felt familiar."
She whacked him on the head. "Don't mock me. I'm still not sure why I did that." She stared at the top of the bunk and thought back to that night. "I don't think I was myself. Or maybe I was a different self during that time."
His manner was uncharacteristically sober. "That's not odd, you know. To react in a new way when you come out of a horrible situation."
"Maybe." She studied the contours of his face in the low light cast by the bedside lamp. Relief, she thought; it was a relief to be able to talk about these things with him, because deep down she knew that he understood. There was no logical reason why he should except that he did.
As if unsure what she needed, he leaned down hesitantly, closing the distance between them slowly. She waited, completely still, resisting the urge to reassure him, wanting him to come to her this time.
The kiss started off tentative but deepened once she responded. She stroked his cheek and rubbed her leg against his lazily as his tongue swept between her lips.
After a long minute he pulled away and gazed at her with a tender half-smile as if storing the memory safely away.
"You must have thought —." No. She forced herself to stop, having learned long ago not to assume others' opinions at her own expense.
He smoothed her hair around her ear. "I thought you were brave. Incredible. I always will, no matter what."
Something tugged at her when he said that. "I'm not damaged, Han."
"No," he agreed. "But, uh, you have been through some shit."
"We all have," she sighed. Her thoughts wandered to their co-fighters in the Alliance whom she had started to regard as a close-knit family of sorts. "I hope Luke and the others are back together."
"I'm sure they are," he said. It wasn't the first time they had speculated on the current situation of the fleet. "They're probably wondering what we're doing."
She cocked an eyebrow. "If they only knew."
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Somehow I don't think they'll be shocked." He settled onto his back and wrapped her against his chest. "After all, you know they were betting on this outcome every time we started arguing. Or whenever you looked at me like you were trying to decide exactly how you were gonna kill me."
She glared up at him. "I never looked anything of the sort."
"Oh yeah? What about that time I arrived back at base and you thought I had spaced the payload on the way? You were ready to filet me to pieces."
"That was your fault for trying to play a trick on Wedge. Besides, it would take more than that for me to plot your demise."
"Whatever you say, Princess."
She raised herself imperially up onto her elbow. "Are you done?"
"See? I was right." He adopted an innocent grin. "Just rehashing our arguments is enough to get you going."
"Oh, shut up." She climbed on top of him, bracketing his ribs with her knees, and ran her hands over his chest. "You're as needy as a Zeltron and you know it."
"Mmm-hmm," he nodded. "That's what months and months of a starvation diet will do to a guy."
She paused her caresses. "You could have tried something earlier, you know."
"Don't make me laugh, Sweetheart."
Her thoughts around that sentiment were too muddled to articulate, so she leaned down and kissed him instead.
"Doesn't matter anymore," he murmured solemnly when they separated. "We're here now." As if to punctuate those words, he lifted her hips and positioned her over him. Unlike their previous times the entrance was less than smooth, the chafing of his cock against her walls causing her to wince. Given the frequency of their lovemaking over the last week, she supposed it wasn't surprising.
"Sorry," he whispered. "Should have —." He broke off as his fingers started moving gently above where they were joined.
Gradually the friction eased. He sank inside her fully and she shivered in response to his lazy thrusts. Fitting her head under his chin, ear to his chest, she flattened herself against him while he stroked her body languidly, smoothing from the top of her head down to her knee.
His hand moved to her bottom and then his fingers dipped down lower, lower, until they hit where they were joined. Then back up slowly until he was spanning her cheeks again. Then down again, the pressure slightly firmer this time.
"Does that feel good?" he murmured.
She shuddered as he made another circuit, heat blooming from an entirely new place within her. "Yes."
"Good." The word vibrated against her chest.
His hand continued its path, up and down, again and again, meandering now and then to as-yet-unexplored nerve endings, somehow keeping cadence with his thrusts. Her body vibrated with a delirious tension, his movements simultaneously soothing and building her up yet again.
His other hand wandered up to her head to cup her face. An unexpected need surged through her and she turned into his palm, catching his thumb between her lips, and sucked fiercely. He jerked as she pulled it in deeper.
"Fuck, Leia," he hissed.
His movements lower down quickened spastically. She squeezed her eyes tighter and swirled her tongue around the digit. The pressure within her climbed and climbed until she was a quivering mess and could no longer focus on anything except what was happening below her waist. Her mouth fell open at the onset of orgasm and then Han's fingers were between her legs circling on her nerves and pulling her over the crest as she keened into his chest. A few sloppy thrusts later, he spent himself amidst a full-body shudder.
They were quiet and still in the aftermath, neither making a move to get up. Leia's skin had turned clammy and she burrowed deeper into Han's body for additional heat. A sudden sadness descended over her and before she could rationalize it away, a tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the damp hair of his chest. She wasn't sure whether he felt it but at that moment he hugged her tighter and stroked her head.
Eventually they forced themselves out of bed to share a quick rinse-off in the 'fresher. The water beat down on her skin, not quite washing away the moroseness she had felt in the bunk. There is still time, she reminded herself as she leaned into him. It's not over yet.