But For Now

by Jaina Durron

This anniversary, there isn't much they can do— not that either of them want much. But for now ... a nice dinner will do. Or, Han happens to be a master chef, and it really turns Leia on.

It had been almost a year since the end of the war against the Yuuzhan Vong. Trillions had died, and hundreds of whole worlds had been slaughtered and pillaged. Following the victory on Coruscant, Han and Leia had agreed they didn't need to find a new home immediately. There was no doubt that the recovery and rebuilding process would take years; every planet the Vong had occupied and conquered was nearly a wasteland, its infrastructure entirely changed, buildings and technology destroyed, and large portions of land overgrown with strange and alien forestation. The galaxy's brightest scientists and ecologists were knee-deep in research concerning the Yuuzhan Vong's methods of terraforming and where to begin in returning these worlds to a habitable state.

Besides that, the Solos had also come to the unspoken agreement that they didn't want to find a new home just yet. Or, weren't ready to. Before the war, Han and Leia had spent years in an apartment on Coruscant, a private sector for a modest price. They'd raised their kids there, the halls always full of raucous laughter. Now, however, their youngest was lost to them, a martyr of the war gone far too soon. And their twins Jaina and Jacen were adults now, grown up in the war, and were now coping in their own ways. When Han and Leia did find a new home, they wouldn't need something so large for a whole family. And that was one of the grimmest realities they had to face.

Living on the Millennium Falcon was certainly a less than ideal situation, but Han found he'd been enjoying the last several months immensely. He hadn't expected Leia to appreciate the nomadic turn of lifestyle so much, but the time they'd spent together since the end of the war now claimed some of the simplest but best memories they shared.

Han didn't mind the idea of living out the rest of his life in the Falcon, hopping from one system to the next, seeing where the stars might lead him— on the condition that Leia came with him. He knew, eventually, they would find a place to settle down— likely on Coruscant again— but Han relished that thought, too, because the twins and Luke and Mara had always called Coruscant home, and Han's true home was in his family.

Eventually, they would settle down— him and Leia. Near the kids. Near his brother- and sister-in-law. But, for now, home was just in his wife and wherever this bucket of bolts took them.

That was how he and Leia had spent the past few months— hopping from one system to the next, donating where they could, Leia occasionally making brief appearances to refugees where the Holonet didn't bother to buzz around. No plans, no itinerary, no commitments. Just following the stars while time healed their scars.

Currently, Han was lounging in the cockpit, the Falcon's life systems turned off so he could listen for his wife's soft footsteps when she finally returned. When she did, the boarding ramp rising and clicking in place behind her, Han savored the familiarity, the assurance he found in those light, precise steps until she entered the cockpit and he could see her.

Leia had spent the majority of her life in the public eye, a trained and experienced politician and diplomat. Her gait was always strong, her posture confident and unyielding, yet stately and modest before the trillions of eyes always watching her. But, within the walls of their private home, Leia allowed just the slightest sway to her hips. With the new spacer's jacket Han had recently bought for her birthday and the light hold-out blaster strapped at her thigh, Han found himself sitting just a little straighter and an ache began forming between his legs. Granted, Han had yet to see Leia in a state that didn't catch his attention …

Kreth, that black jacket fit her so damn well!

Han tried to casually readjust himself in his seat, biting down the fully lopsided grin he felt coming. "Any trouble?"

Stopping in the entry to the cockpit, Leia Organa Solo planted her feet wide and crossed her arms below her chest. A mere meter and a half in height, she demanded respect like the tallest general. And she had him at attention. "That's the last time I'm paying your docking fines."

"How was I supposed to remember I'd used the alias Longshot on Bakura before?"

There was no room for sympathy in Leia's stare as she eyed him dubiously. "You got caught."

Han shrugged, settling back in his chair, as if to say, what can you do? "But it's taken care of now."

"All thanks to me." She shifted her weight, moved her hands to her hips, and continued. "The deck officers weren't pleased when I explained we aren't looking for a hotel."

"I thought you said you preferred staying on the Falcon?"

"I do, but I think it makes us bad tourists."

"For not paying for a hotel room?"

"Well, when you're visiting another planet and spending some time there …"

"I paid up the ass for this docking bay— at least six-hundred credits more than it was five years ago!"

"We did just get out of a war …"

"Did you tell them your husband's cheap?"

"I told them my husband doesn't care for paying his taxes, let alone a room with a decent mattress and fresh air to sleep in."

"Taxes! Another reason we should just live out of the Falcon for the next five years."

Leia's eyes glinted with humor, and Han could see the retort on the tip of her tongue: what about docking and fuel taxes? But instead, she raised a brow and indulged him. "Only five?"

"Well, my back …"

Leia rolled her eyes and shook her head, a smirk lighting her face. "Your back is fine. Surely, I would have heard more about these back problems by now if you thought you were developing an issue."

Han turned a soft look on his wife, planting mischief behind it as he slowly leaned forward. "Well, for now." He stood, reaching to take Leia by her hips, and swiftly pulled her body to him, his mouth splitting into a wide grin. "But I was hoping we could make some plans for tonight …"

The corners of Leia's mouth pulled back in an approving smile, and it charged something in Han as she brought her arms up around his neck. She stood on her toes and her chin dipped, big brown eyes looking up at him through dark lashes. "To make up for the fine?"

Her tone was smokey and seductive. Again, that thrill in Han's gut, his cock pushing against his pants. "Sure, that's one reason."

Leia tilted her head, her beam growing as she slowly leaned closer until she rested a hand against his cheek—

And patted it playfully. "Mmm. How about those two-hundred credits back." She swiftly slinked out of Han's arms and winked.

In his moment of defeat, Han groaned. "You're killing me, Princess!"

She shrugged, already turning down the corridor toward the main hold. "It's our anniversary. Why not commemorate with some of our famed banter?"

"Now I know I'm being punished."

He could hear her grin in her laugh. "Why? Because I always win?"

"Now, sweetheart. For our anniversary, shouldn't we be on level ground?"

"And let you win? Besides, as we were busy fighting a war during our twentieth anniversary, I recall that I was recently promised a second honeymoon."

"This isn't a honeymoon?"

Leia stopped, turned back to him, and raised a single brow. "In honor of over two decades of putting up with you, I'd like to be surprised."

"And what would surprise you, Princess?"

"Considering our track record? Anything remotely romantic."

"Now, what about Tatooine wasn't romantic?"

"Han." He relished the deathly glare she shot his way.

"Oh, wait. Tatooine was your idea!"

"I suppose seeing the Corphelions was a nice touch," Leia allowed, wicked humor still sparkling in her eyes. "Until that moment of fearing for our lives."

"You certainly enjoyed the view before the emergency alarms went off."

"This is kind of starting to feel just like that …"

"You saying I'm not capable of romance?"

This was all in good fun. No serious jabs, no true bitter grudges or keeping score. This was a safe zone where they both thrived— where their relationship had first begun. Lively, playful banter. A battle of wits. A thrilling and enticing dance of their minds, seeing how long each could last, who would surrender first to their desires.

"Well, between our first kiss being in the belly of a space slug and your valiant efforts in our courtship on Dathomir …"

The timing couldn't have been better if Han had tried. Flashing one last smirk his way, Leia turned back around and made to continue down the corridor. Smoothly, Han caught her hand to stop her.

Like hell would he let her claim this victory.

"Sweetheart, we've just got our own brand of romance."

Before she could form her own retort to fire back, Han palmed the access pad to the main hold beside him. The doorway whooshed open, and Leia's gaze was instinctively drawn to the view inside.

The atmosphere lighting had been dimmed, turned down to a nighttime setting that would have left the area in near darkness if it weren't for the flickering candles propped on various crates around the room. A trail of red arralute petals was spread from the doorway to the perimeter where the crates had been positioned closer to the holochess table. Before the table, an extra chair had been placed across from the padded bench. Draped over the gameboard was a pristine, ironed, white tablecover. More flower petals adorned the tabletop, framing the two plates at either end— which were both covered by a silver cloche dome— and around where a trident candle display stood for the centerpiece.

"Oh, Han."

Han delighted in the way her face fell, the look of wonder and surprise as she stared open-mouthed at the display. He reached to take her hand, and she looked back at him, still gaping. "This isn't our second honeymoon, sweetheart. When I take you on a honeymoon, I'm gonna' do it right. And Mon Cal's resorts aren't exactly in great condition right now …"

Leia's eyes softened and she rushed to tell him, "Oh, Han, I was only joking about the—"

"I know. But I'm serious. This is just … another casual anniversary."

Warmth and light flooded her face as Leia smiled tenderly. "It's never just an anniversary to me."

"You know what I mean. This is just for our twenty-first; I still have to make up for our twentieth."

Again, that open-mouthed, wide-eyed surprise. "Oh, Han."

Han chuckled to himself and squeezed her hand. "Well? We just gonna stand here all night and admire the view from the door?"

Leia peered back inside the main hold, took one step in, and Han guided her to the table. "Would you prefer the chair or the padded seat, Mistress Solo?"

Leia didn't answer, didn't even look his way, but she took the smallest step toward the rounded booth seat, so Han made a show of wiping it off and gestured for her to sit.

When she took her seat, posture erect and face posed as ever, the candlelight shadowing her regal features, Han was struck for a moment as he gazed upon her and saw not only his princess but the Princess Leia. And, far from the first time, Han remembered just how lucky he was.

The main hold was filled with the sweet and lilting tones of Alderaanian opera, the pronounced accent— a generous degree of which Leia still carried— singing in a forgotten tongue Han recognized occasional words from. But he was certain Leia knew all of them. She likely knew the song, too. Han had no clue which particular production this song was from, but he did know that Leia still cherished all the diverse tastes of music from her homeworld, and he imagined she had grown up with this chorus committed to memory.

With all their most valuable possessions on board, Han had dug out all the Alderaanian relics he'd thought might make for appropriate decorations. Killik Twilight stood awkwardly posed up against a crate across the hold, a single candle placed far enough to not pose any serious threat to the painting, but close enough to highlight the lower corner of the frame. Around the large artwork, Han had also laid out pillows lest its stance against the crate fail and the painting were to fall … the other way …

Leia laughed when she looked at the absurd setup, but her eyes glowed with a deep happiness Han hadn't seen in her gaze for some time.

"You prepared all this while I was gone?"

"Actually, I probably could have set the table and decorated while you were passed out last night snoring like a bantha."

Leia ignored the jest. "What would you have done if I hadn't left the Falcon?"

"Then, that would have been a very long hour and a half of trying to distract you. Now …" Han delicately took the cover by its ornate knob (at least, as delicately as only Han Solo could), and Leia leaned forward in anticipation as Han slowly revealed the plate to her.

It was empty.

She blinked at him.

"Well, dinner wasn't ready when you commed that you were on your way back."

At just that moment, a timer dinged and Han grinned. "But it is now." He turned and disappeared down the corridor.

"Your timing is impeccable, Captain Solo," she called to him.

"Well, I am nothing if not impeccable."

Leia rolled her eyes. "You weren't worried about your food burning while you were waiting in the cockpit?"

"Nah, I'd already pulled them out of the oven. I had to let it marinate in my special seasoning."

"Marinate."

Just then, Han returned, wearing too-small oven mitts over his hands and carrying a steaming pot. "Hey, you can't make fun of me and my cooking expertise just because you can't toast bread without starting a fire."

"It was not a fire! It was only smoking!"

"The second time."

Leia hmphed in the back of her throat, sitting back in her chair, but her grin was still there.

"Besides," he drawled, turning to deposit the pot on the counter and inspect his work. "You love my cooking."

When she didn't respond, Han grinned to himself. "Can't deny that one, can you?"

"You are a man of many surprising talents."

"That's it?"

"I'm sorry, you didn't provide me a sheet with my lines."

"Like you need a prompt to sing my praise."

"Sing your praise?!" she laughed, a bright and warm sound for all the amusement her tone held. "Well, it might take a little more than dinner."

"Suuuure. But if that's the case, I know how to make you sing real loud—"

"You're incorrigible!"

"Sweetheart, I don't know if you remember, but it's our twenty-first wedding anniversary."

"Still. I'm not going to encourage you."

"I'd like to see you try to resist."

Before she could possibly form a comeback, Han took her plate and whisked back to the cooking unit.

He dished her a serving, and went about cutting the entree into portions. When he returned to her side, flourishing his personal masterpiece, and set it in the center of her placemat, Leia took one look and flushed berry red, laughing.

"Tonight's dinner features spiced aric tongue for the main course, coated in my secret signature seasoning, drizzled over with a thin Corellian country gravy, served with a side of fresh local greens and cooked potatoes."

Her smile dazzled him, easily the brightest light in the room, and Han nearly fell over. "You prepared spiced aric tongue for me on the flight to Dathomir."

Pretending to be impressed, Han nodded his appreciation. "You remember." If she hadn't remembered, he'd feared his plans might very well have fallen flat.

"As do you."

"It was the first and only time you've ever insulted my cooking."

"Well, I wasn't very happy with you that day."

"And yet, twenty-one years later, here we are, sweetheart."

"It was kind of hard to forget how much I loved you."

"I was just that charming, huh?"

"On the contrary, both of us were being nerfherders." Her gaze flicked downward, avoiding his. "Sometimes me more than you."

"Yeah, well." Han cupped her face in his palm, lifted her chin until she looked at him. "It was kind of hard to forget how bad I had it for you."

There. That smile again. Kriff. "I love us."

Her nose crinkled, half devilishly, half sincerely. "I know."

Dinner. Good. Kriff! Eating was losing its appeal faster by the second.

Distractedly, Han took his own seat and began to cut up his own portions. "What do you think? Better than kissing in the belly of a space slug?"

"I don't know. That kiss in the circuitry bay is one of my favorite memories."

"Oh, yeah? Then, maybe we should head there after this."

Leia flashed a wicked grin. "But my hands will get dirty."

"Well, my hands will get dirty too, so don't worry."

As he spoke, Leia was already scooting out of the booth, her eyes focused so intensely on his.

Han's heart skipped a beat and he might have felt foolish if he had the mind to; but Leia was starting her own game, and Han was much too enthralled. The way she still so effortlessly captured his attention, then left dangling him from a string like easy prey.

Who was he kidding? For her, he'd gleefully run into any trap.

Balls in his throat, Han managed, "We're just gonna' skip over dinner, aren't we?"

Now, the gleam in her eyes was truly feral, her grin nothing short of vicious. "This is my anniversary gift now."

Not a word more was needed before they met each other standing, Han taking his wife into his arms and immediately capturing her mouth with his. Apparently uninterested in foreplay, Leia opted for more direct action, fingers already working the clasp to Han's belt, then flashing to his arms and shoving his vest off his shoulders.

He chuckled, lips pulling up into his trademark grin. "Anxious tonight, are we?"

Her attention now fixed on loosening Han's belt, Leia spared him a brief glance, brown eyes darting up to meet his, both mischief and impatience twinkling there. "Are you complaining?"

"Hardly. But you sure this is more important than dinner?"

She yanked at the top button of his shirt, aggressively plucking open one after another. "You know how much it turns me on when you cook."

"That kind of defeats the purpose of me preparing dinner."

"Don't act like this wasn't your plan all along, hotshot."

"You wound me, Your Highness."

"Shut up."

As though he had a choice. She practically interrupted herself, taking Han's head between her hands and once again smashing her mouth to his.

"Whatever you want, Your Highness."

"I want you."

"Mmhm." Han held her hips, mesmerized enough by her curves, and the tantalizing movement of her hips as she stood on her toes.

"Undress me."

So, this was what she wanted tonight. Take control but make him work for it. Like an obedient pet on a leash, he awaited her command.

As directed, Han began peeling off her layers, starting with her jacket, swiftly pulling it off her arms before moving onto her shirt, and finally unclasping her bra so it fell to the floor. But he was prepared to get his own pleasure out of the night. With her pants, he took his time, handling the buttons slowly and deliberately. He worked them off her hips, sweeping his hands behind her back and inching slowly down the back of her thighs, fingers reaching inward, touching and teasing as he made his way down.

"Han."

Ravenous in her hunger was she, but Han relished her pained and needy groan, lingering just long enough to feel the wetness between her thighs, fingers teasing higher and higher.

"Haaaan." she shuddered, jaw already falling open, eyes falling shut, and Han grinned in victory.

"I want you. In me. Now."

Han's knuckles grazed the skin of her outer thighs, slowly inching her pants down, but Leia shook her head, yanking the offending material off herself and consequently shedding her panties. "In me," she repeated, kicking her clothes aside and reaching to take her husband's arms. "Now."

Feeling her heat, sharing in it, seeing the early ecstasy in her eyes, Han abandoned any argument he may have had, any desire to further tease and torture her. With a gentle push, Leia stumbled backward, their lips once again caught in a frenzy, until her back hit the nearest bulkhead and Han grabbed her ass.

The delighted smile that came to her face was almost reward enough, but Han barely had the time to relish it before Leia had both legs hitched above his hips, crossing behind his back. "Now."

Hard and ready, Han obeyed, hoisting Leia higher up until he met her at her entrance and thrust in.

She first gasped, then moaned, her hands moving to clutch Han's head closer, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. There was no finer sight, no greater climax than the view of Leia's parted lips, head thrown back while her closed lids fluttered in the midst of her pleasure as he rhythmically pulled out and then plunged deeper in. Part of him wanted to tease her further, to time his thrusts long and slow, but with Leia taking charge, he knew she would have none of it. Sure enough, she held onto him, firmly as though she had him pinned to the bulkhead and not the other way around. She rode him hungrily, rocking her hips as she slid her way up and down his length. He would have been content to sit there, let her have her way until her needs were sated. To live and do and be solely for her. And to merely watch her reach her pleasure, watch her face as she lost herself.

He still remembered with great clarity the first time he'd seen Leia in such a state of abandon, without a care and no regard for her surroundings. That first time on the slow flight to Bespin was so many years past now, but he had known then and he knew even better now that he would never tire of that very sight. Or, of her throaty moans, the way she clung tighter to his body just as the folds of her sex embraced and contracted around him. The way she managed to pay equal attention to him, relishing in his pleasure as much as her own.

Kriffing hell, he loved this woman. More than he had on Dathomir when he'd known he would leave her to another man if that's what she truly wanted. More than he had— somehow, impossibly— when she'd given birth to their children. And, somehow, more yet every day since.

For a while, he watched her. That was his pleasure. The sight of his wife, head thrown back, perspiration beginning to glisten on her brow, lips parted in nothing short of ecstasy. Almost involuntarily, Han thrust deeper, and Leia cried out his name. He could feel her muscles working, feel her contracting, throbbing around him. Her gasps and pants were a melody, perfectly timed to match the rhythm of their motions. With each thrust, each rock of Leia's hips as she slid along Han's erection, they both cried together, a chord in each of Han's grunts to Leia's sighs. They kept time in the rest of their bodies, too. A dance for their song as Han buckled and Leia ground her hips into his.

Idly, Han recalled a dancing class Leia had signed them up for prior to their wedding. He couldn't remember any of the names of the dances they'd been instructed Han, but he hadn't forgotten the excruciating torture of spending an hour and a half each day dancing with her, holding her hips, feeling her move between his hands, moving with her, their bodies working as one, and consequently straining in his pants, dancing around his mounting erection until the class was finally over and they could hurry home. If they made it home.

When he had her panting— him just as much, and their desperate breaths a shared song in each other's ear— he set her down, letting her rest on the ledge of the engineering station. He leaned into her, still holding her to him, unprepared and unwilling to let go.

Leia's fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against his spine. "I hope this doesn't make your back worse."

Han shook his head, ducking his head and craning to nip at her ear. "I feel better than ever."

"I'm sure you do, flyboy."

Still hungry, he nibbled at her earlobe, occasionally marking her throat with a warm kiss, flicking his tongue against her skin, and nudging his nose against her neck. Leia let him have at it, merely holding onto him, but she refused to take the bait. Han didn't have to look to know she was fighting a grin. Fine. If that's how she wanted to play.

He traced his hands back up her thighs, burning a short trail up her throat to a spot just behind her ear before he enticed, "That's all you wanted? A quick release?"

Leia leaned back, her expression feigning shock, mouth hanging open, gaze appraising him; as though she was surprised by her husband's prompting, as though she hadn't purposefully set him up for it.

No one ever believed Han when he said Leia was the bigger tease.

Then, like the royalty she was, dignified and regal, she sat up and leaned back in, shoulders set, beckoning him. "Take me to bed, Captain, and we can finish this properly."

"You sure you don't want dinner?"

"We can reheat it later."