AUTHOR'S NOTE AND WARNINGS:
Lots of language in this, particularly the 'F' word, which appears 37 times.
Smut abounds, none kinky, but if you have tender sensibilities, you may want to turn back now.
Split into two sections to make it easier to read.
Flying Solo
by CorellianBlue
(first published 2020)
Warnings: language; sexual content
-1-
"Are you going to smirk all the way to Bespin, Captain Solo?"
Han's smile widened and his gaze homed in on Leia as he stepped out from the ring corridor into the main hold of the Millennium Falcon, an insulated mug in each hand. Seated on the lounge at the dejarik table, her brown eyes following him, Leia looked sexy as all hell.
He had only been in the galley a few minutes—and had spent the last few hours making love and asleep with her in their bunk—but Han's heart tripped at the sight of her as if he hadn't seen her for weeks, as it always did.
Leia looked incredible; she always looked incredible. Sitting here in his ship, her hair dishevelled by his hands, wearing his clothes and his scent, she had never been more beautiful and desirable. This woman with the eyes of a doe and the balls of a bounty hunter, had used both attributes to capture his heart, and she was probably none the wiser. In the two years he had pursued her, Han had never loved Leia more than he did now.
Along with his grin, Han's loose, confident gait had become smugger since Leia had decided she wanted to further explore what was going on between them. What was currently going on between them was an awful lot of fucking. He'd briefly—very briefly—chanced a thought about their 12-year age difference, but he was grateful he was no longer in his twenties; if he'd been any younger, he doubted he could have satisfactorily appeased Leia's voracious sexual appetite. This woman he adored, once so sexually inexperienced, continued to surprise and delight him in bed.
When she'd approached him—60, 70 hours ago; he was unsure exactly how long—and admitted that she wanted him, she had also confessed she had no idea what she was doing. Han had recognised and accepted that. Their first time, he had been slow, gentle and tender with her, despite his desperate urge to consummate what in his mind had been two years of foreplay. He had dug deep and discovered a level of self-control and selflessness he had doubted he'd had.
Apart from having to repair some aggravating problems with the Falcon's environmental control system, the two of them had spent the rest of their time in bed, getting to know each other on an intimate level. Consummating long-held desires; exploring which positions produced the most excitement, generated the most fire; discovering what aroused the other; developing fixations with otherwise innocuous body parts of each other: for him, the turn of her ankles, and the adorable mole on the lower right side of her back, just above her hip; for her, the trace of vein running from the crook of his elbows up through his biceps, and the prominent point where his clavicle met his right shoulder.
Inexperienced Leia may have been, unadventurous she was not.
They were steadily working their way through the variety of positions Han had previously tried, but invariably they kept coming back to what gave them the most pleasure and the deepest level of intimacy: he loved using his mouth and tongue to bring her to climax, and riding his narrow hips with him firmly locked within her also enflamed an intense orgasm; and while Han was grateful for any chance he got to make love with her, angling her hips up over his elbows so he could achieve long, firm thrusts inside her worked best for him.
Leia also seemed open to his (albeit joking) proposal of bringing props into bed. When he had cheekily suggested using a toolkit to conduct repairs on her, she had encouraged him to come up with something to meet her needs. He was definitely giving that further consideration over the next few weeks.
Sex had dissolved all barriers between them. Where once there had been spite, frustration and irritation, now there was tenderness, thoughtfulness, affection and love.
Leia had discarded the mask she had hidden behind to keep him at bay, releasing the impish side of her nature, the side she had infrequently allowed him to see. This Leia was mischievous and teasing; easy to laughter; uncritical; undemanding.
Han had never seen Leia as relaxed as she was when he held her in his arms after they had achieved their release. The tension she usually carried in her shoulders and her eyes had disappeared. She was calm, relieved, content. It affected him deeply knowing that he had brought about this change in her; that he could make her happy and satisfy her sexually.
Leia now touched him almost as much as he touched her. Her caresses were affectionate, but also sexual. Han revelled in it. He'd always suspected Leia was like this: as passionate in private as she was in the political persona that she presented to the galaxy.
Those who had labelled her hard, distant, cold, frigid…Ice Princess...they could take a flying fucking leap. This was Leia. Sweet, sexy, feisty, adorable, horny Leia. And she was his, at least for the next few weeks.
Leia pulled her socked feet up onto the seat of the lounge, knees bent, legs sloped up as she pushed aside the datapad she had been reading. Han had claimed back from her the only pair of sweatpants he owned, so she now wore the tighter-fitting sleep pants that he infrequently wore, one of his t-shirts many sizes too big for her, and a pair of his thick spacer socks—and still she was the sexiest-looking woman he had even seen. Dressed in a similar, casual fashion, they looked like they were only minutes coming out of, or going back to, bed.
Han slid in next to her, placed one of the mugs in front of her and kept the one with caf in it for himself.
He trailed his fingers over her knee and down her leg, grinned at her and said matter-of-factly, "Oh, I intend smirking way past Bespin."
Leia leaned forward, sniffed the steam curling up from the mug's slotted lid.
"Gatalentan tea," Han told her. "Careful, it's hot."
Leia's grateful smile spread up to her eyes. "Thanks."
She raised a socked foot, prodded his leg with her big toe, encouraging him to continue with his comment. "How much further do you intend smirking?"
She stretched her foot fully onto his thigh, arching her toes over his firm quadricep muscles. Han dropped a hand onto her foot and gently squeezed his fingers around it.
"All the way back to the Fleet," he replied.
The rich alto of her voice assumed an amused, teasing quality. "Really? That far?"
"Even further," he continued. "Down the ramp and out into the hangar, where I'll stop and thumb my nose at any of the Rogues that happen to be loafin' around." He deliberately left out he might throw a jaunty, two-fingered salute towards the squadron leader of the Rogues, Commander Luke Skywalker.
Leia raised a knowing eyebrow. "Stopping to collect your winnings on whether you'd get to sleep with me, no doubt?"
He frowned at her reference to the widely-known betting pool about the two of them—Kill, Maim, or Fuck—the Rogues had been running for at least a year. Although he had casually considered placing a bet on Leia killing him at some stage, or at least kneeing him in the groin, he hadn't thought about the idea for long. The last thing the maniacs in Rogue Squadron needed were more idiots feeding their ridiculous fantasies. Now Leia had mentioned it, Han wasn't sure her remark was entirely playful.
He tried to hide the bruised edge to his ego, but couldn't help asking, "You think I'm like that?"
She swung her other foot up onto his thigh and he automatically collected her feet in his hands, removing her socks with deliberate tugs and dropping them next to him on the lounge.
"Of course not, I'm teasing," she soothed. She reached for the mug and bought it to her lips, calmly added, "I'll be the one collecting."
A brilliant smile lit his face. Fuck, he loved this woman.
"This is all a scam, is it?" he asked, his hands engulfing her tiny, bare feet, gently massaging them with his warm, long fingers "You only wanted to sleep with me so you could pick up a few spare credits?"
She gave him her serious, princess-solider face. "I've got to fill the Alliance coffers somehow."
Fuck. He loved this woman.
Leia gingerly took a sip of the hot tea. "And I hate to tell you, Han, but I don't think we've been doing much sleeping."
Han raised his eyes to the upper bulkhead. "Thought I was doin' something wrong."
She reached across, touched his elbow to draw his gaze back to hers and told him, "Sweetheart, believe me, you're doing everything right."
He gave her a small, heartfelt smile, lifted one of her feet up and kissed the top of her toes. She returned his smile.
Not for the first time, he was tempted to tell her how much he loved her. A few times, he'd come close to doing just that, but he was afraid of scaring her so early in their newfound intimacy; possibly afraid of scaring himself if he gave shape and voice to that declaration. For now, it seemed safer to hold the love he had for her within his head and instead demonstrate to her how he felt.
In increments, he was getting her (and him) used to the idea that he loved her. His bunk had become became their bunk; his cabin, their cabin; his clothes, their clothes; his toothbrush, their toothbrush. He was openly sharing everything he owned, what little it was, with her. He would gladly give her joint ownership of the Falcon if she asked for it.
He was also dropping the word 'love' into his speech when describing how much he enjoyed and appreciated what she was doing to him. He'd told her he loved the way she rolled her eyes at him whenever he exasperated her; loved the way she straightened her shoulders and stiffened her jaw before approaching him, as if steeling herself against any emotion he might ignite in her; loved the haughty tilt of her chin before she launched into a verbal assault on him for some perceived transgression.
Now he loved the push of her hips against his; loved the way she arched back in response to the kisses he circled around her ear and pressed down her neck. He loved the softness of her skin, her scent, her taste. Loved the demanding sweep of her tongue in his mouth. Loved the way she kissed his name into his skin, bit her teeth into his shoulder as he thrust inside her. Loved the grip of her hands on his ass as his hips swayed above hers. Loved the keening sigh that surged into a deep-throated moan as she came. Loved how completely relaxed and blissed-out she looked after they'd made love.
On her part, Leia had admitted she was completely enamoured of him. She had jokingly and devastatingly described her infatuation with him as though she had a Sex-With-Han-Brain, telling him that she was constantly thinking about him, and usually that included fantasising about having sex with him. Hanphomania, she had facetiously dubbed it. He had nearly died when she had told him that.
Fuck, he loved her so much, it hurt. An ache deep in his chest that surpassed anything he'd felt in his groin, with any woman, ever.
Han was practised at ignoring the inconvenient and inconsistent truths that scarred his life, but he knew he'd have to face them by the end of this flight. He loved her. Didn't want to leave her. Couldn't imagine life without her. This was not a month-long tumble in the sheets.
As a prominent Rebel leader, Leia was a fugitive from the Empire with a bounty for her capture, and substantially more than the 200,000 credits he had accrued on his own moronic head. Han had even considered handing himself over to Jabba and claiming the reward for himself, because it would make it a hell of a lot easier to pay off his debt. But under the harsh twin suns of truth and reality, Han knew Jabba would have him killed if he returned to Tatooine.
The bounty hunter they had run into on Ord Mantell threatened both of their lives, but Han wasn't convinced he'd be placing Leia in any more danger if he instead remained with the Rebellion and dedicated his life to protecting her—from both the Empire and his own stupid decisions. He needed to spend some time working through his options and developing a solution he could live with and that would keep him alive—keep both of them alive. But he was prone to distraction by this princess-shaped woman. This woman that he loved.
Leia leaned back into the lounge, flexed her foot, deliberately snagged her smallest toe in the corner of Han's mouth and giggled as he may a show of noisily sucking on it. She wriggled and squealed as he sucked another toe and then succeeded in taking all five of them into his mouth at once.
Leveraging a foot against his chest, she half-heartedly tried to pull her toes out of his mouth, but he held on tight and added the gentle scrape of teeth to his efforts. She squealed; a high-pitched giggle reminiscent of the sound she made just before she came. His stomach sank like a stone towards his groin. Then she shrieked his name and it nearly shattered him.
A crash down near the crew quarters drew their game to a halt. The loud thud of Wookiee fists on bulkheads echoed along the ring corridor. Chewie was awake, and obviously trying to disturb them. The Wookiee's hammock was hanging in what had been the crew bunkroom, located less than five metres from their cabin. He was bashing corridor walls as he headed towards the Falcon's main communal 'fresher for his regular constitutional, no doubt aiming a few blows against the hatch to their cabin for good measure.
Han popped her foot out of his mouth as he watched Leia's eyes widen in consternation. She adjusted her position, leaned against him, one leg bent against his thigh as he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
"Chewie's up," he explained. "He's getting us back because you kept him awake." Leia opened her mouth in protest before he added, "With all that squealing."
She swatted a hand against his shoulder, but was chuckling as she said, "I don't squeal."
He tightened his lips into a thin line, solemnly nodded. "You squeal. It's like–"
He dropped a hand dramatically against his skewed forehead, rolled his eyes in their sockets, formed his lips into an 'O', made a shrill, anguished sigh.
Laughing, Leia prodded his shoulder again. "I don't sound like that."
"No?" He grinned and looped his arms around her. "It's more like—" He made a deep-throated moan that sounded more pained than pleasured, before panting into an exaggerated imitation of her crying, "H-h-h-haaannn!"
Leia jerked a handful of his hair, directing his lips against hers and kissed him hard and fast. Belligerently not returning the kiss, Han clamped his mouth shut, doing his best to stop her tongue from slipping between his lips. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pretended to fend her away, gently tilting her torso from side to side as he play-fought her, but keeping his mouth firmly mashed against hers. She gave up when she couldn't control her laughter and pulled her face back from his.
"You can't just molest me like that," he demurely told her. "I'm not that easy."
She gave him a bemused smirk. "That's not what I know."
"What you think you know and what you really know—"
"I know you," she pointed out.
"Well, that's it then," he sighed. "All the mystery has gone from our relationship. That didn't take long."
She kissed him again; gentle, exploratory touches of her lips against his, more loving than erotic, but with enough sensuality to cause the blood to rush to his groin and his pulse to quicken, especially when the warmth of her hand hit his thigh and her fingers meandered higher. He was short of breath, but not from physical exertion, when she pulled back from him and gave him a wink that was straight out of his own playbook.
Sighing contentedly, Leia looked down at her wrist but found no chrono; it was lying next to his gun-rig in their cabin. "Do you know what the time is?"
Han shrugged. He'd lost his own wrist-chrono somewhere underneath the bunk he-had-no-idea-how-many hours ago. He usually had an accurate internal chrono that helped him keep track of the artificially imposed day and night cycles of space travel, and a reasonable idea of flight duration, but that time-sense was as fucked as the rest of his mind and body.
"No idea. I guess it's the start of the day cycle if Chewie's just getting up." He indifferently raised a shoulder again. "Does it matter? There's still a shitload of time to do whatever we want."
She patted his head where she had been tugging on his hair, flattening it down as best she could. "Sorry, I interrupted you," she said. "You were telling me how we've arrived at the Fleet and you've told the Rogues to fuck off."
If she kept talking like that, Han was going to kiss her again. Or worse. Except it wouldn't be worse; it would be better. Much better.
Returning her hand to the small of her back, he directed his focus to the fantasy he'd been spinning. "I'm gonna march up to the command centre."
"March," she appraised. "That'll be a first."
He generously smirked at her again. "Thought I'd give you a chance to appreciate my ass, seeing as how much you love it."
"Oh," she enthused. "By all means then, march away to the command centre. I can always do with a little Han-ass action."
Han took a moment to shake his head at her before continuing. "I get to the command centre, demand to see Dodonna."
"Thump your fist on something" she suggested. "That'll go down well."
"Great idea." Han jarred his fist against the dejarik table. "Then I'll say, 'Dodders-'"
Leia stopped him again. "Too much. Try 'Jan', instead. Should piss him off even more, coming from you."
Han hauled both of her legs over his thighs, leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Her hands slipped around his neck and he settled further into the kiss, loosely cradling her in his arms. He pulled back slightly, continuing to individually nudge her lips between both of his before telling her, "That's what I like about you. Always so helpful."
Leia returned his penetrating gaze. "I hope it's more than that."
Han wondered if she meant she hoped he liked her for things other than being helpful, or that he more than liked her for her being helpful, or that he simply more than liked her. When she had felt him up while he'd been welding in the circuitry bay, she had admitted that she more than liked him, that she wanted what he wanted. This could be her way of telling him that she wanted him to love her, and that she loved him in return. Or not.
"It's more," he assured her.
Unhurried, he kissed her again, took her upper lip in his mouth, then her bottom lip, back to her upper lip, slipped his tongue between her teeth, probing and affirming, as if kissing her for the first time.
More racket from down the corridor, most likely in the galley, interrupted them again. They shared a knowing look; it was impossible to make out in the main hold with Chewbacca within earshot.
Leia smiled at him. "You were saying?"
Han took a deep breath, picked up where he'd left off. "'Dodders—' I mean, 'Jan.'" He removed one hand from her back to point at himself. "'Your worst nightmare has returned!'"
Leia's face lit up and he knew he was onto a winner. His smug grin returned.
"'I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is I've brought Her Highnessness back, and I personally wanna tell you that we've been fucking since we left Hoth.'"
The delight in Leia's eyes confirmed this was a fantasy she was eager to partake in.
"Fucking like ash-rabbits since we left Hoth!" she cried, helping him to craft this imaginary confrontation.
He grinned at her. "'Me and Her Worship have been fucking like ash-rabbits since we left Hoth.'"
"Since before Hoth," she embellished.
Han went along with the suggestion. "'Since before Hoth.'" He stopped and looked at her ruefully. "I wish!"
They shared mischievous smiles.
Han momentarily sobered. "You think I should say 'defile'?"
Leia touched his cheek, shook her head.
"Haven't I defiled you?" he pressed.
"No." Her reply was firm but gentle. "If anything, I've defiled you."
"Damn right," Han suddenly agreed. "I was a virgin before you seduced me."
"Ah, there's been too much fucking—"
"Too much fuc—" he protested.
"It's messed up your brain," she pointed out. "You've gotten our roles confused. I'm the virginal princess. Or I was. You're the creepy, stalker-type scoundrel."
He grimaced. "Nice to know you like me, otherwise I might feel offended."
He ploughed on. "I'll give him that shit-eating grin I know he loves, tell him there is no bad news because the fucking has been superb. Outstanding."
Eyes shining, Leia was giggling now, awaiting what he would say next. Han obliged.
"So outstanding, that the Alliance no longer needs to pay me to freight cargo cos the princess will be seeing to my particular needs from now on."
Immediately, he knew he'd gone too far. Something in her eyes had changed, something he couldn't identify. He suspected she was re-evaluating him: deciding if he was joking, making light of the fact that he repeatedly threatened to leave, or if he was serious and offering to stay with the Alliance and work for free; well, free apart from fucking with her.
Leia maintained her questioning study of him. "That'd be interesting to see. You as a kept man."
He hoped he looked as open and honest as he felt. "I'm already a 'kept man'. Just changing the boss."
For a moment he thought she was nodding in agreement, but instead she looked down, dropped her gaze to the neck of his t-shirt where her fingers were smoothing out a wrinkle in the fabric.
"I don't think you should smile at Jan when you say that," she said quietly.
The good humour of the mood was rapidly deflating. Han gave her a quick squeeze to buoy things up.
"I thought you liked my smile."
Her corners of her mouth lifted as her eyes returned to his. "I love your smile."
Turning in his embrace, Leia shifted her legs off his thighs and reached for her tea. Frowning, Han collected his caf. They both sat back in the lounge and silently drank from their mugs.
That hadn't gone the way he had hoped. He'd been too eager to rush the idea past her. It was clearly too soon for her to consider the type of commitment he was willing to make. He knew the way she operated: he needed to develop a plan, a solid argument, present it to her, and get her onboard with the concept and the strategy he had devised.
At present, there was no strategy, just a desire to continue making love with her. He was thinking too much with his dick, and his heart. Fortunately, as he'd told her, there was a shitload of time for him to sort this out.
Now that he knew it was the beginning of the day cycle, Han thought about heading back to the galley for breakfast, except Leia's reaction to his offer had dulled his appetite and he had no interest in rubbing shoulders with his miserable co-pilot.
Chewie: poor bastard. Poor miserable bastard.
Chewbacca was becoming increasingly irritated with the human members of the crew. The Wookiee had initially been relieved that Han and Leia had taken the next step in their rocky relationship. That relief had turned into exasperation when they became so obsessed with one another, they ended up spending most of their time in bed or making out wherever they happened to be at whatever hour. Han had endured snide remarks and complaints from Chewie, particularly about the reek, as he put it, of human pheromones seeping into the structure of the ship.
Han had found it easier and less confrontational if he and Leia just stayed in their cabin and fucked around in there. But that also meant Chewie was effectively on his own and would be for the next three-and-half weeks, unless he wanted to head into the cockpit where Threepio was on permanent watch and strike up a conversation with the droid.
Part of Han was uncomfortable that his own good fortune was souring things for his friend, and he'd been considering offering to play dejarik with Chewie as a kind of peace token. He didn't particularly enjoy dejarik—in his opinion, it was too much like hard work and did not require as much skill as sabacc—but Chewie did, and the holo-chess table had come with the ship. So, he'd play dejarik, if that's what his friend wanted. Providing Chewie dropped the smart-ass attitude.
Han chanced a glance at Leia, hoping she wasn't annoyed or frustrated with him, that they could resume the banter and the making out. She seemed preoccupied, as if she had something on her mind; something on her tongue if the way her lips were twisting was any indication.
Han leaned down to bump her shoulder with his. She looked at him sideways, and her beautiful smile returned as she turned back towards him, pulling her leg up on the lounge cushion. He was grateful she appeared to be ignoring the way the previous conversation had ended and was not deliberately setting out to be angry with him, which was the way things used to develop between them.
"You know," she began, "you told me you hadn't slept with anyone for two years because you were waiting for me."
He hadn't quite explained it like that, and it hadn't been a deliberate act—it had just happened that way. Despite his early protests to the contrary, he'd been infatuated with her and had unconsciously stopped being interested in other women. The result: he'd had no sex for nearly two years. If Leia wanted to think it had been a conscious decision on his part, he wasn't going to sway her of that belief.
He raised an eyebrow, curious as to where she was going with this.
Leia tilted her head. "How did you satisfy yourself if you weren't having sex?"
The smile that slunk across his face was broad and knowing. Leia's focus had trickled back to sex and him. That's my girl.
"I became a monk."
She playfully pushed her fingers into his ribs. "And the Falcon became your monastery, did it, Brother Han?"
"I definitely don't wanna be your brother," he emphatically told her.
"Thankfully," she said, "there's no chance of that happening."
"Thank fuck for that."
She looked at him expectantly and he deliberately delayed responding to see if she would prod him again. When it appeared she was prepared to wait him out, he relented.
"I know how to take care of myself," he simply told her. "Most men do."
Leia's eyes sparkled. "Show me."
Despite the caf he'd been drinking, Han had to moisten a suddenly dry mouth. "Now?"
Here? he'd almost added. Had Leia always been like this and it had only taken the good luck of a slow ship to Bespin to bring out this side of her?
"What's wrong, Solo?" she challenged. "Afraid to show me what you've got?"
He grimaced. "I was gonna play dejarik with Chewie." Now he'd said it out loud, his idea of making amends with his friend sounded slightly pathetic: holo-chess or more sexual shenanigans with Leia.
Leia goaded him, "Instead of spending time with me?"
He made a pained face. "I was kinda feeling a bit guilty about Chewie," he explained. "Guy's only had Threepio or himself to talk to since we've been fucking."
The spark that lit her eyes dimmed. "You're right," she agreed. "I guess I was just being selfish. You'll have to show me another time." She dipped her gaze, mumbled behind a small smile, "Or not. It's up to you."
Han was torn: desperately and undeniably torn. Chewie was important to him, but so was Leia, and in an entirely different way. And although he'd spent nearly every available moment with her or near her since Hoth, and he knew there would be so many more moments to be with her, Leia had just suggested he show her something he'd never shown anyone. Ever.
This could be a sexual experience new for them both. Something they could share and explore together for the first time. The blood surged towards his groin at the thought of it.
"How about I play a few quick games with him," Han suggested. "I'll let him win so I'll be as fast as I can."
Leia smirked at him. "Not too fast, I hope." She reached for his hand, laced her fingers through his, then sensually slid her fingers up and down the length of his. "You know how I like it long, slow and hard."
Han inhaled deeply to stop his brain—and everything else—from overloading. Fuck, he loved this woman.
"You also like it short, quick and hard," he pointed out.
Leia made a you-got-me gesture with her shoulders. "Anything with you is fine by me. As long as it's hard."
I'll be dead by the time we reach the Fleet if she keeps this up, Han thought. Death by fucking. What a way to go.
[How's my two favourite love birds?] Chewbacca asked as he entered the main hold.
Chewie's growl carried a distinct inflection when he was being sarcastic, and Han easily detected it in the comment. Smart ass.
Leia released his hand, so Han moved it to the small of her back instead.
"Good morning, Chewie," she said brightly.
Han muttered his own greeting. "Hey."
Chewbacca brought his plate laden high with food and an over-sized caf mug across to the lounge and took a seat next to Leia. They drank from their mugs as the Wookiee tucked into the egg-fried bread and rashers of dried tilbong meat.
Leia caught Han's eye, gave him an apologetic smile, then swivelled her body back towards the table, politely including Chewie in their conversation.
"I'm sorry if we kept you awake last night, " she began.
Han thought that was a bold concession on her part, but he knew her and realised he shouldn't have been surprised by her audacity. Balls of a bounty hunter, he reminded himself.
"Han can get rather loud when he's in the throes of passion," Leia seriously told Chewbacca, as if providing a formal debrief on their love-life.
The Corellian frowned at her unexpected, unashamed and untrue remark. Well, it wasn't completely untrue.
"I've thought about putting a pillow over his head to shut him up." She turned towards him, cupped a loving palm to his cheek, wrinkled her nose at him. "But it's such a pretty face. And I do so love that mouth."
Chewbacca guffawed, almost choking on his breakfast.
"Yeah," Han teasingly agreed. "I just love calling out my own name."
"That ego of yours knows no bounds." She briefly touched her lips to his to soften the jibe.
He grazed the tip of his nose against hers, deepened his voice and rumbled, "I'll show you what has no bounds, Sweetheart. You'll be holding on and screaming for mercy."
Leia hooked her arms around his neck. "Promises, promises."
[Stop, stop. Please,] Chewie entreated around a mouthful of food, pointing down at his plate. [I'm trying to eat.]
Even Leia managed to understand that complaint, particularly when Han added, "Me too."
The couple brazenly grinned at each other before Han got in a quick kiss and they reluctantly separated again.
Han and Leia were silent as Chewbacca resumed eating, sipping on caf and tea, but they continued to stoke the fire between themselves, adding fuel with teasing, sensual glances, touching feet under the table, running their calves against the other's, and leaning into one other. Chewie expressed his annoyance with grumbling, truculent sighs and shakes of his head.
As Chewbacca was mopping up the juices on his plate with the last piece of bread, Leia gave Han a pointed look and stood up.
"I think I'll go tidy our cabin," she told them, snagging up the datapad and her mug, leaving her socks behind on the lounge.
Her legs edged against Han's as she stepped to get out from the behind the table. Han didn't move so she readily slipped the backs of her thighs over the front of his, allowed him to place his hands on her hips and trail them down her bottom as she slid across him. She spun on her bare feet, gave him a short kiss and headed out of the hold.
Smiling to himself, Han collected his mug from the table and was drawing it to his mouth when he became aware of Chewbacca's inquisitive, knowing stare.
"What?" he defensively asked.
Chewie smacked his lips together as he finished his mouthful, then barked, [Don't you have somewhere you need to be?]
Han asked again, "What?"
Chewie gulped at his caf before adding, [Aren't you going to help your mate with the domestic duties?]
Han sneered at the Wookiee. "Hilarious. A regular comedian."
Chewbacca obviously agreed with his friend's assessment because he chuckled into his mug.
Drumming his fingers on the table, Han twisted his mouth and re-thought offering to play dejarik with the Wookiee. But Leia got the better of him, and he decided to carry on with his original intent and show some consideration towards his friend.
"So…what are your plans?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.
The question caught Chewbacca off-guard. [Plans?]
"Yeah. What are you up to?"
Chewbacca eyed him critically. [Thought I'd drop into that beauty day-spa we passed a couple hundred-thousand klicks back and get the full hair treatment.] He bared his incisors then asked, [You? More copulating, I imagine.]
Han stared back him impassively. "I forgot how funny you are. You missed your calling. Should have your own holo-show."
[I do. Every night at twenty-two hundred. But you're usually otherwise engaged.]
Chewie stood, scooped up his plate and mug at the same time and explained, [First, I'm going to get a debrief from Threepio to make sure he's still operational and alert. Then I'm going to strip down the transpacitor and work on a few other things on the hyperdrive, so we're ready for Bespin.]
Han easily heard the condescension in his friend's growls. He'd been neglecting maintenance on the Falcon since he'd been spending time with Leia, but he'd justified it to himself by arguing that Chewie was a capable technician and would be relishing the chance to spend all of his time working on the ship.
"Oh."
[And you?] Chewie cocked his head. [Still more copulating?]
Han brushed aside the accusation. "Thought you might like to play dejarik."
That pulled up the Wookiee. He waited for Solo to explain himself.
"Best of five. Fifty credits a game. Win any game in less than four moves, an extra fifty credits." Han's eyes shone with challenge. "How's that sound? Better than conditioning your mangy pelt with Quedji Sea mud?"
Han knew Chewbacca would be unable to resist a chance to cream him at dejarik, particularly if credits were involved.
Chewie thrust his dirty plate and mug up on the ledge behind the lounge and sat down again.
[Bring it, Corellian.]
"Kashyyykian moof-milker."
[Coronet scrumrat.]
Han feigned a pain to his chest. "Ouch. Nasty."
He grinned genuinely to show there were no hard feelings, but Chewie's eyes narrowed as the Wookiee stabbed his thick fingers at the controls, initiating the software starting sequence.
[Put your credits on the table.]
The eight holographic chess pieces materialised onto the inner orbit of the checkerboard, lining up for the selection and assignment phase to commence.
"I'm good for it," Han said reassuringly.
Chewie barked out a short laugh. [What meteorite shower do you think I came down in?] He pointed an accusatory finger at his friend. [I know you, Solo. 'Good for it.' I'm not some mark you can con.]
Han made a show of patting his t-shirted chest and the waist of his pocket-less sweatpants.
"No credits on me," he explained. "Must be in my other clothes, back in our—my cabin."
Chewbacca stopped adjusting the control panel. [Did you say, 'our cabin'?]
Han felt the flush redden his cheeks; he said nothing.
['Our cabin'?] The Wookiee cackled with delight. ['Our cabin'?]
"Have you finished?
Now Chewbacca did laugh. [Looks like my cub is growing up.] He reached across and ruffled Han's hair, much to Han's disgust. [I'm glad you and the Little Princess have decided to become bond-mates, but must you continue to copulate when you have no intention of creating a child? Unless…] Chewie's eyes widened. [Are you and the Little Princess attempting to create a child?]
Han slumped forward onto the table, head in his hands, sending a flutter through the holographic monsters. "For fuck's sake, Chewie. Don't you dare ask Leia that. At least, not with Threepio around."
[What?]
Han pushed himself up again. "Humans like to fu—" He decided to use the word Chewbacca preferred to ensure he was abundantly clear. "—copulate cos it feels good." That was an understatement if ever there was one. And he really should have cleared this up with Chewie years ago. "And it helps us to…" He shrugged, unsure exactly how to express what it was the intimacy between Leia and himself felt like, what it represented, the importance of it to him, especially at this early stage of their relationship. "I dunno."
He leaned back out of the lounge, looking down the corridor towards the crew quarters, checking to see if Leia was nearby. He returned to his upright position, lowered his voice just in case. "I feel closer to Leia when we're like that. We fit together. Like she's a part of me that's been missing."
He was painfully aware he had never expressed such open emotion to his friend. "Leia…" He tailed off, struggling to work this thing out. "She makes me feel like…I dunno…like…like I belong. That someone cares about me." He held up a hand to hold off any protest. "I know you care for me, buddy, but this is…different. Completely different. Leia is the most incredible woman in the galaxy. And she cares about me. How is that possible?"
Chewbacca was silent for a moment as he regarded Han. Then he said, [Sounds like you love her.]
Han grimaced, sighed, trying to relieve the ache within his chest. "I've loved her for a while. I'm in love with her now."
Chewie tilted his head thoughtfully. [And what are you going to do about it?]
"I'm working on it," he admitted.
[Work faster,] Chewie suggested. [Don't leave it until it's too late.]
Han scrubbed his hands across his face and up into his hair, rumpling it until the ends stuck out from his head. "I know. I know"
Chewbacca fiddled with the dejarik controls. [Don't worry about your credits. I trust you.]
Han straightened his shoulders, sniffed and turned his attention back to the game.
"You can have first pick," he offered, referring to the process of selecting which holo-pieces they would play with; traditionally, they would both "roll" the board's digital die to determine who started first.
[I usually win that initiative, anyway.]
Han stared at Chewie, a wry grin turning his lips.
[But thank you for your generosity.]
"Yeah, well don't get too comfortable. I'm gonna smash your furry ass across the hold."
Chewie snickered. [The trouble with you, Solo, is you play your cards too close to your chest but wear your heart on your sleeve. And when you finally decide to reveal your hand, the game is long over.]
The Wookiee's words were painfully close to the truth. But Han wasn't about to let up on Chewbacca.
"Ah, my wise-ass, philosophical friend continues sprouting existential bantha crap." He scowled at him. "Make your selection, Wook."
Whether through good fortune, dumb luck, or Chewie being uncharacteristically kind, Han won the first game. The trouble with that was, it meant one more game he had play before he could track down Leia.
Chewie easily won the second game, with contrived resistance from Han. But when Chewie won the third in only three moves, the Wookiee eyed him suspiciously and grumbled that Han had deliberately lost.
Han held his hands up. "Got no idea what you're talking about, pal. You're obviously on top of your game and so much better than me."
Chewie folded his arms across his chest. [It's nice to hear you acknowledge that I'm better than you. But you still deliberately lost.]
"Shut up and roll the die."
Unfortunately, Han's roll produced a '6' and Chewie only a '2', so he had the first pick of the pieces.
Out of the Power pieces, Han chose the Monnok, recognising that although the Monnok's power, defence and attack ratings were equally balanced with its counterpart, the Mantellian Savrip, the Monnok was a smugglers' omen for a difficult but rewarding journey. Apart from the initial pursuit by Imperials, this flight to Bespin was proving to be particularly rewarding for Han.
For an Offensive piece, Han went for the blue Houjix. It had a less defensive but higher movement rating than the four-legged Ghhhk he left for Chewie, but Han liked that Houjix were gentle creatures usually kept as pets or guardians.
He grabbed the Kintan Strider for his Defensive piece, mainly because he had heard that the Ng'ok warbeast stunk pretty bad and he liked the idea of upsetting the Wookiee's olfactory sensibilities, even if the holo-piece itself didn't exude a scent. That'd serve Chewie right for complaining about pheromones and copulation.
His choice for the Mobile piece was a no-brainer. As with the other two times he'd won the selection initiative, Han chose Grimtash the Molator. This creature was from Alderaanian mythology, protecting the Royal House of Alderaan from corruption and betrayal. It had a less attack rating than the K'lo'slug, being the more defensive Mobile piece. The simple fact that it had a link to Leia made his selection apparent.
Han and Chewie alternated directing the holo-pieces to the outer orbit segments on opposite sides of the dejarik board, then faced each other across the table.
Covering his mouth with his hand, Han considered the board in front of him. Depending how this panned out, this would either be his last game, or his second last game. He was trying to develop a strategy to gracefully lose without it appearing too obvious, but his mind wandered, wondering where Leia was, what she was up to, and if she really was interested in him showing her how he'd kept himself occupied over the last twenty, long, excruciating months.
Han's fingers were indecisively hovering over the control panel when Leia's hand dropped onto his shoulder. Her touch was like a burst of sunshine through clouds on a cold, overcast day: warming and invigorating, encouraging him to bask in her glow.
Grinning like the love-sick idiot he knew he was, Han looked up at her. She returned his enthusiastic smile, before looking at Chewbacca and silently acknowledging him with a small incline of her head.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Leia turned back to Han, wrapped both of her hands around his, and gently tugged on his arm. Continuing to pull on his hand, she leaned back, drawing his arm with her. It only took a second for him to understand what she wanted. Han obediently rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on this vision of a bare-footed woman in his old sleep pants and t-shirt.
Without taking his gaze from Leia, Han conceded to Chewie, "You win."
Chewbacca snorted derisively. [Who wins?]
Han allowed Leia to pull him away from the dejarik table, up onto the step above the deck vents.
[Where are you two going?] Chewie asked, though it was evident exactly what was happening.
Keeping her hold on his hand, Leia spun around and walked him out of the hold and towards their cabin.
"Domestic duties," Han called out.
Chewbacca's braying laugh followed the couple down the ring corridor.
…2/
Dejarik rules: 3xw dot enworld dot org › forum › attachment