Chapter 7

"Leia, are you all right?" Mon Mothma's rich contralto voice asked with concern.

The Princess propped a hand over Han's mouth, her own laughter suddenly interrupted as well. Hurriedly, she pushed and pulled him on his feet and across the room, until he understood that she wanted him to go into the fresher. She suffocated his complaining with a quick kiss on his lips and closed the hatch.

"I'm coming!" She answered loudly.

Composing her robe, she scanned the room for evidence of what just almost happened, finding with dismay Han's satchel by the main hatch.

"Leia, are you really all right?" the older woman asked again.

Leia Organa opened again the hatch to the fresher and shoved the bag into the stomach of a very astonished Han Solo, closing it again in a hurry.

"Finally!" Senator Mon Mothma exclaimed when the Princess let her in. "I heard some noise... What happened?"

"I just slipped when I came out of the shower, Mon, don't worry..." Leia lied proficiently while returning the older woman's embrace.

"But are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" There was real concern in the Chandrillan's face.

"I'm fine, Mon," the younger woman reassured her, feeling somewhat guilty. Changing the subject, she asked her, "When did you arrive?"

"A few minutes ago. I'm on my way to meet with Ackbar and Madine but I wanted to see you first."

Another meeting she had not been invited to, Leia thought. With a tense smile, she asked trying to keep her tone neutral. "Do you need something, Mon?"

"No, not really... Just wanted to see how you were doing..." Mon Mothma narrowed her eyes slightly. "I heard that the Tatooine operation was a success."

The Tatooine operation. At least she had not called it 'the lowly Corellian's skin saving' like the last time. It was some progress.

"Yes, it was," she answered. "Han is fine, thank you," she added before she could help it.

The two women locked eyes for a long while, both of them too stubborn to lower their gazes, both of them too afraid of losing the other one trust if they spoke their true minds.

Maybe I should tell her, Leia thoughts raced. If she only knew the real Han beneath the mercenary facade. If she knew him like I do... But her cheeks colored slightly at the thought of how thoroughly she did know the scoundrel by now. Maybe that was not her more brilliant idea after all.

"Do you have something to tell me, Princess?" Her mentor queried all of a sudden, as if she was reading her mind.

Something like 'I just hid Han Solo in my fresher'?

"No, I don't," the Alderaanian answered somewhat defiantly.

Mon Mothma's lips pressed firmly one against the other. "All right," she said at last, "I'll see you tomorrow at the general assembly then."

The aforementioned Corellian occupied his time meanwhile pressing his ear against the hatch of the fresher, trying to catch something of the conversation going on between the women outside. He did not have much luck, though. The fresher doubled as escape pod, so twin hatches isolated it very effectively from the rest of the ship. All he could hear was the murmur from the ship engines and nothing else.

After a while, he felt the vibration of the main hatch opening and closing. He waited a few minutes for a signal of the Princess that he could come out, but she did not release him. What she still there? There was a chance that she had gone with Mothma, but she would usually not go out of her cabin in a robe and with her hair down unless it was a life or death crisis. The other possibility was that someone else had joined the party and in that case, he wondered how would he explain his long visit to the refresher.

Well, there was only one way to know. Palming the door open, he stepped out of the cubicle.

Luckily, there was no Chandrillan Senator in sight, only an Alderaanian princess. She was sitting on the edge of the bunk, elbows on her knees, face hidden in her hands. The sound of the sliding hatch startled her, and she looked at Han through slightly separated fingers.

He crossed the room in two swift strides and sat by her, his arm circling her waist warmly.

"That bad, uh?" He asked into her hair.

Leia leaned into the crook of his arm. "I never lied to her before..." She whispered.

Han Solo sighed. "I thought you didn't want to hide," he stated neutrally.

"I know," she answered quickly. "I just...panicked."

He nuzzled the back of her neck gently. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said, moving her hair out of his way so he could plant small kisses there.

"There'll be another time..." His free hand traced gently her jaw, his lips descending again over the uncovered nape of her neck. "I'm not going anywhere..."

The Princess raised her head so violently that she almost knocked him out. "You're going to stay?"

"Yeah, I..." Han started, massaging his own jaw now.

"You're going to stay!" she interrupted, her hands coming to cup his face. He nodded.

"You're going to stay..." she repeated once more like a chant and kissed him passionately. Pushing him back until he was flat on the mattress, she stabbed his chest with her index. "You... are going... to stay!" He nodded again and smiled impishly, delighted with her reaction.

Her mouth covered his again and the rest of her body followed suit.

He stayed, and there were no more interruptions.

She started unbuttoning the shirt that he had fastened back in the fresher. Her tongue and her lips came right behind her shaking fingers, tasting, feeling, exploring. She had every intention of turning into reality the fantasies she had developed along the lonely months when she had been deprived of his beloved presence.

She brushed her cheek along his sternum and his chest hair tickled in her nose deliciously, his scent filling her nostrils, making her feel like... Home. Her lips touched then something that elicited a deep hiss to come out of his lungs. Purely out of instinct she licked and sucked on his masculine nipples greedily, first one and then the other, feeling him squirm and pant under her small weight.

"Gods, Leia!" He said, and she smiled against his skin.

She had located her knee between his legs for better leverage and she could feel without doubt the heat of his arousal pressing against her naked thigh, growing hotter and bigger with her every ministration. It was a powerful feeling, of control and submission at the same time, of sheer gratitude with the powers that be for giving her the opportunity to love again this wonderful man.

On their first time together, she had been too overwhelmed by the sensations that Han was awakening in her to pay much attention to details, or to have much initiative for that matter. She had followed him were he had wanted to lead, happily and with no regrets. But with time, replaying those few precious hours in her mind over and over again, she had realized how selfish she had been, how little had she dared to explore of him.

Some technical literature had helped her to have a better idea of what she may want to try, of what Han may expect from her. A better idea of what she had felt and why. Not that she had been completely oblivious before, but one thing was to have theoretical notions of these matters, and a complete different one to have empirical knowledge of it.

And above all, she wanted to please Han; she wanted to love him like she felt he deserved. And the idea that there was a whole collection of women out there that she had to make him forget about was not that far of her mind either.

She pulled back a little and he followed her propping himself on his elbows, and she used the opportunity to slide the shirt down his shoulders. He reached for her lips, a hand sneaking behind her head to draw her nearer. Their tongues battled one around the other in a quest for domination but she did not surrender and finally pushed him back down.

His arms came out of the sleeves of the discarded shirt to cup her breasts in his big hands, squeezing them gently through the thin silk of her robe. Her mind went blank for a brief moment and her back arched, hips pushing instinctively against his sex. But she recovered soon enough to regain control and carry on what she had planned for so long. Disengaging gently his palms from her buttocks, she kissed them and then his mouth.

"Let me," she asked softly against his lips, and he conceded it.

She crept back a little, never separating her mouth from his skin until she reached the big metal buckle of his gun belt. She raised her gaze to lock into his hazel eyes and then unlocked it with a dexterous movement of her wrist. Han Solo arched a brow and smiled lopsidedly, delighted in her boldness.

She directed her attention to the strap that fastened the holster to his thigh and, when he raised his hips, she pulled the whole thing away, but maybe with a little too much enthusiasm. The blaster slid over the edge of the bunk and hit the floor heavily. Leia Organa winced, hoping that nobody else came to ask about her wellbeing again.

"Don't worry," Han laughed. "Go on. Please?"

Her cheeks burning more than ever she turned her focus to his boots, which came out surprisingly easily. Two balls made of socks bounced on the cabin's panels not much later. His feet were long and slender and as beautiful as his hands. She sled her fingertips along the back of one until she reached the hairy toes. He wriggled them playfully and she mockingly menaced to tickle him, but changed her mind suddenly. Bending forwardly, she kissed his feet tenderly.

Han Solo sat quickly and stopped her, turning her to face him. Taking her long hair out of her face, he caressed her cheek. "You don't have to do that," he told her softly.

She just looked back at him. "But I want to," she answered.

The Corellian kissed her then with all the passion he was capable of, his hands sliding up her thighs and under the robe, pulling her against him tightly.

This time he almost got her, but somehow she squeezed herself out of his arms and was suddenly taking position behind his back. Her small but strong hands started to knead his shoulders and worked their way down to his waistline.

"You're good," he sighed contentedly.

She did not answer, but her arms rounded his hips and her thumbs hooked boldly on the front of his pants. "May I?" She asked against his spine.

"I'm all yours, sweetheart."

It took her some time to undo the second buckle blindly, but the zipper had no secrets and it was opened easily. She hesitated, though, about taking the next step. Inwardly, she prayed to the Ice Princess not to interfere.

Understanding, he took her hand in his and softly guided her in. "Nothing there you aren't already familiar with," he whispered.

The next moments became blurred, and went by much more quickly than what Leia had intended. One moment she was caressing his swollen masculinity and the next tugging from his pants and kissing him all over, back and front, with her open mouth, claiming him, getting wilder and wilder with his every moan.

She reached soon a state where she could not restrain herself anymore. Slipping out of her underwear, she straddled him.

It hurt, a little. Not like the first time, but she did not care either. She was adapting, molding, it was not her body anymore, but the blessed conjunction of male and female that was a new entity by itself. The fire within quickly engulfed any other sensation, any coherent thoughts, and nothing mattered anymore.

She looks really like a queen...Han thought. He looked up at her, from her tightly closed eyes to the chestnut hair to the waves of silk that covered them both. She started to move slowly her hips and that was all that he needed to lose the little restrain he still had.

Leia felt vaguely, like from afar, Han taking control and yanking hard at her robe, until the button gave in and there was nothing else between them. One moment she was up and then she was down and they rocked themselves into ecstasy.

She noticed at some point under Han's powerful, exquisite thrusts that someone was screaming. Weird. This was so beautiful, so perfect.

It was not until Han's mouth covered hers that she realized that the one crying was she.

Later, when their most urgent needs had been satisfied, Han Solo cradled his sleeping Princess tenderly in his arms. There was no mistaken in the dark circles under her eyes, she was tired to death and the previous activities had exhausted her last reserves of strength. He loved to watch her sleeping.

Leia had felt bold tonight it seemed and he had let her take the lead, bending to her every whim, astonishment and pleasure mixed in equal parts. He had let her explore him, test his reactions, learn him in every way. She had been much more secure of herself than their last – and only – time, trying new things on her own initiative and for a brief moment, the most cynical part of him had wondered where she had acquired this notions. Had she been 'practicing' somehow?

Stop being stupid, Solo, he addressed himself. Why can't you believe that something good can happen to you for a change?

Maybe she had forgiven him so easily because she had not been faithful, the seedier part of him argued. She's not like that! No? The image of her kissing Luke in that med-ward in Hoth was prompted into his attention.

Leia stirred in his arms, one hand traveling his back lazily. "Mmmmmm..." she mumbled, snuggling closer to him and opening her eyes just a slit. "Hi," she said smiling warmly.

"Hi yourself," he answered, his lips descending to brush hers softly, any doubts melting away in her bright glow.

A growling sound then startled both of them, and the Princess reddened deeply. "I think I'm hungry," she apologized.

Han Solo caressed her stomach with his big hand. "It happens," he laughed. "Let's do something about it. Are you in the mood for Tarian soup?"

"Tarian soup?" Her eyebrows knitted. "I don't have..."

"Wait," he interrupted, jumping out of her bunk. He crossed the room and entered the fresher, from where he emerged carrying his satchel.

"What...?"

The Corellian silenced her with a gesture and proceeded to empty the sack. Thermal container, bread, cheese and a bottle of wine came out of it as if summoned by some old magic, replacing the cold dinner based on ration bars. He sighted her mug on a shelf and, reaching for it, he filled it with the liquid in the thermal container. Passing her the steaming mug and a napkin, he sat by her cross-legged on the bed taking with him the bottle of wine, which he opened with precise movements.

She had fished meanwhile her robe from the mess of discarded clothes on the floor and had slipped it on her shoulders. She had to left it open though, since the safety clasp had been a casualty of war and the belt was nowhere to see.

"You've been planning this all along!" She accused playfully.

"I was counting on it," Han Solo retorted, winking mischievously.

"I think I love you," she teased, smelling sensually the spicy cream.

Han Solo's Adam's apple wobbled up and down.

They ate silently, only interrupting the proceedings to share a soft kiss every once in a while, as if to reassure each other that this blissful moment was real, and not some wistful hallucination.

At last, the wine and the soup were finished and the rest of the edibles had diminished in quantity notoriously. All of a sudden, Leia Organa pouted. "No dessert," she said, sounding somewhat tipsy.

"What?"

"You brought no dessert," she elaborated, pouting a little more.

"The Princess wants dessert," he repeated, leaning closer.

She nodded in agreement, licking her lips.

Han Solo grinned wickedly and flopped backwards on the mattress again. Stretching in all his naked glory and crossing his arms behind his head, he sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to sacrifice myself... Again."

Energies renewed after the improvised meal, round two had been the better so far. They had turned off the lights afterwards, supposedly to sleep something, but they both felt conversational.

"You are a wild one, y'know." Han Solo whispered softly in Leia's ear. "I've always known that some day you'd club me in the head and drag me to your cave..."

She blushed, and even if he could not see it in the dim starlight that entered through the small viewport, he felt the wave of warmth washing through her body.

Without warning, she asked: "Why did you kiss her?" There was no aggression in her voice though, just... Curiosity.

The Corellian took his time to answer. "Habit, I guess," he started and then added, "It won't happen again, I promise."

He had not tried to use the she-kissed-me-first excuse, although if she was going to be honest, that had been what she had seen. She liked that. Tightening her arms around his waist, she kissed his shoulder. Han shifted his weight on the mattress, uncomfortable. He knew what the next topic would be and, as always, decided to shoot first.

"Do you really want that list?"

"No," she whispered, "I don't want it..."

He breathed deeply, relieved.

"... But I need it," she finished.

Oh, gods. You deserve it, Solo.

He grimaced in the darkness and braced himself. "Alphabetically, chronologically, by sector or what?"

Propping herself on an elbow, Leia Organa let her lips trail across his chest. "Tell me first about the one that broke your heart..."

After two solid hours of questions and answers, they made love again, slowly and tenderly as if the two of them were apologizing to each other.

Finally, they fell asleep spooning together, both fitting perfectly in a bunk designed for barely one.

Han Solo was awakened later by the insistent chime of his chrono's alarm.

0530. Damn.

Silently, he slipped out of the bunk and headed to the fresher for a shower after pulling a clean shirt and shaving stuff from his satchel.

He emerged a few minutes later, but before going out he kneeled by Leia's sleeping form. He kissed her lips and her throat insistently, until she stirred and moaned. "Han... What time is it?"

"Too early," he whispered. "Look, I have something to do. I'll see you at lunch time, right?"

"Right," she acknowledged before drifting off again. He smiled and kissed her brow one last time.