Surface Pressure
Leia was drunk. He was drunker – was drunker a word? Come on, Organa, what good can possibly come with drinking with him? Leia never got drunk. Occasionally buzzed, but she was druuuunnk. She was drunk with Han Solo and that was probably not a good idea.
Because at some point their contentious friendship had turned into a partnership that brought her comfort and as close to content as she got these days. A friendship and partnership that had a strong undercurrent of more - unexpressed attraction, love? She was too plowed to let herself consider it with any depth, and when sober, refused to think about, but both the sober and inebriated Leia were in agreement that this thing simmering with Han was probably a mistake. Definitely.
It had been a long day after a long week, after a longer month. Supplies and funds were low, the Empire's probe droids and patrols were sniffing uncomfortably close to the outer rim system where their latest base, a frozen hellhole called Hoth, was concealed. She was under enormous pressure to build out the base, which felt a lot like building a ship while they flew it through hyperspace. Mon Mothma was contacting her daily for updates on progress to get the speeders working, the ton-tons trained, and the heating units to keep them alive without melting, and therefore, caving in the ice walls. It was an impossible task and she still hadn't learned the art of working smart and not hard yet, nor delegating, as Han liked to gleefully remind her at every opportunity.
The damned ton-tons were thus far untrainable, the speeders still weren't working properly in the cold no matter the time and resources they had thrown at them, and morale was in the sani. She had overheard three different rebels referring to her behind her back as a variation of the Ice Princess or Ice Bitch. Yesterday she had led the rescue operation of yet another cave-in that had killed an engineer. She would have offered to make the next-of-kin death notification, but the man had been Alderaanean, and his entire family was already dead, just like hers, she had thought bitterly. Because of hers. Another ghost to haunt her dreams, another soul lost to this war.
And so the next day, still in a bitter disposition, General Rieekan ordered her out of the command center at 23:00 and she found herself walking right past her frigid, barren, lonely quarters and out into the hanger to seek solace and vent to the occupants of the Millennium Falcon. Because that rusty old ship and it's captain and co-pilot, at some point when she was too busy working to notice, had become home.
With Chewie already asleep and no witness to see him be kind, the captain, her usual foil to peace and tranquility, had been agreeable company tonight. They had traded harmless barbs and not-too-personal stories of previous exploits while she kicked his ass at first dejarik, then sabaac (he accused her of cheating) and her bitterness softened, at least for the evening.
Perhaps it was the warm feeling of being wonderfully sloshed and in good company, but Han was uncharacteristically mellow and philosophical as she vented to him about all the myriad ways this base was failing, despite giving its construction and set-up her absolute and very best. He listened attentively, asking questions and offering solutions.
Her head was resting relaxed against the back of the couch, head spinning pleasantly, while she closed her eyes and hummed an old Alderaanean pop song. This is why she kept gravitating towards Han, his co-pilot, and the Falcon. She felt safe here, with him, with his warmth radiating next to her. They sat companionably close together but weren't touching.
Han shifted to look at her appraisingly and Leia, sensing she was being watched, opened her eyes. She felt her face warm under his intense scrutiny.
"Can I ask you somethin'?" He questioned gruffly, hands nervously gripping each other. His face was flushed, maybe from the whiskey, but she thought perhaps embarrassment, too.
"No," She deadpanned before laughing.
"Well, I only asked to be polite, m'gonna ask anyway. You got some sort of outlet for all that pressure you put on yourself? Besides getting' drunk with me?"
She started to stiffen, sure now where he would take this. She made to get up, but he reached for her arm, moving his thumb gently back and forth before he tugged slightly so she would sit back down. She hesitated before acquiescing and climbing back into the booth.
"No, I mean…" Han ground his teeth together as he tried to get the scattered thoughts in his brain to coalesce into coherent words. He wants to ask her, but he is scared of her. Scared she might blast him or brush off his concern for her.
He held his index finger up to prevent her interruption when he noticed she was about to say something.
"I mean…do ya exercise, or meditate, or…anything else to relieve your stress? They got a masseuse in the High Command wing or something? Cuz, look, you can handle yourself better'n anyone I ever met, but you're gonna blow a gasket if you can't find a way to blow off some steam. There won't be anything left of you to lead."
"Han, I was raised to handle pressure. I was going to say 'born for this,' but I was adopted…so…" She trailed off, lost for words. He was eyeing her intensely and she cleared her throat. "I'm fine, drop it."
"Sweetheart, gimme a break. You put the fate of the entire galaxy square on your back. We been friends for what, almost three years? I've seen the toll it takes on you. The nightmares, the skipped meals, the torment and heartbreak when a mission goes south and you lose rebels. Mainlining kaffe so you can push just a little bit harder, stay awake a little longer." He paused and grazed her knuckle with his until she met his eye. "The guilt, the mis-placed blame. Your rage." He pauses, trying to focus on what he wanted to say. She looks so intense and beautiful tonight. "That shit needs a release valve, Princess. And you ain't got one that's doin' the job."
Her thoughts sound sloppy in her brain, but she is insulted. She thought maybe they'd get through tonight and it would be a step forward, not two back like usual.
"Let me guess, Hotshot. This is all one long windup to offer to be my 'release valve?'"
Han's nose crinkled in offense. "S'not like that at all, Leia. I'm offering to help as your friend. You need a workout buddy, I'm there. You need to punch someone to feel better, you can go after me, my face is already crooked anyway. I ain't got much use for meditation, but I'll try it if you want company."
"So you aren't propositioning me to be the one to apply a little heat and melt the Ice Princess? Because I've heard that one before, and I'm not interested." The irritation she felt at Han for ruining this evening was slightly sobering and the effort to not slur her speech had eased.
Leia continued to look at him skeptically. That particular offer had come from several brazen rebels over the years, always with a disdainful sneer at her perceived bitchiness and virtue. There had never been any understanding of the pressure she was under to win this war. The pressure of her people (the ghosts and the survivors), the pressure she put on herself. It was suffocating. She drowned under the weight of it nightly. There was no margin for error for her and any failures she suffered were publicly available for the galaxy's peanut gallery to comment on. And they did comment. Her jaw jutted out in defiance.
"Oh, spare me the pity party. C'mon, I know you better'n that. You're a grown woman, I figure if you wanted or needed that kind of stress relief, you'd either take care of it yourself or seek it out with someone else."
"That's partially true, at least," She added, grateful that on that topic, at least, he seemed to partially understand her.
Han looked at Leia appraisingly, eyes narrowed in difficult focus through whiskey goggles. "Ya know what, I think I had that wrong, Worship. You can't just seek someone out to blow off a little steam can you?"
She chuffed out a bitter laugh. "No, I can't."
"Cuz no one would take you seriously? Fraternization"
"Yes, and if I make the news, it's not just confined to the base or one planet, it will be covered galaxy wide. Additionally, I serve, officially, as a General and a Princess, so modeling good behavior is important to me. Taking those duties seriously is a sign of respect for the people I lead."
She smiled at Han, "The cost-benefit analysis is certainly not in favor of a hookup, Captain Solo."
He nodded as he began understood some aspects of her reserved behavior. He inhaled sharply and his eyes brightened with an idea.
"Leia, you got a blaster on you?" He slurred cutely.
"Yeah, why?" She looked up at him through her lashes, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That man always had an angle.
"Can I see it?"
She shrugged and pulled her holdout blaster from her ankle holster, passing it to him.
"Only the one?"
Still not sure where he is going with this, she reached into her vest and pulled out her second blaster and handed that over too.
"This one's so tiny and cute." He turned it over delicately in his hands. "Just like its Princess."
She whacked him playfully on the shoulder.
"Hey, be nice. Vibro blades?"
She smiled at him curiously before removing the one from her boot and another hitched on her belt. He moved the weapons next to him on the other side of the couch, where she couldn't easily access them.
"Good, now you can't kill me for sayin' this. Princess, if you ever wanted that kind of stress relief with someone else, I'd do that for you, as a friend. No strings attached, wouldn't say nothin' to anyone, and wouldn't want anything in return. I could just…make you feel good."
Leia's eyes had closed after she handed him the vibroblades, but they had shot open and a deep flush had creeped up her neck by the time he finished talking.
She looked at Han a long time. His usual cocky grin and quick-witted snark were absent. This wasn't an inappropriate inuendo or a come on. Somehow, he was being completely earnest. This was a side of him she had rarely seen, and she found she liked it.
"You are being serious? Because I'm really not in the mood for you messing with me."
"I'm being serious – for once."
"What's in it for you?" She asked doubtfully.
He starts listing reasons with slapdash fingers. "1. I like it. 2. It's hot. 3. I like the idea of making you feel better, good, ya know?"
"And how would you do that? Make me feel better?" As soon as it was out, Leia wished to take it back. She was too drunk to have this conversation, or maybe just drunk enough to lower her guard and continue?
"Well…" Han leaned into Leia's personal space, his breath tickling her ear. She shivered and pulled away in surprise, thinking he was going to kiss her.
"M'not gonna kiss you, relax. I was gonna whisper it in your ear. Don't want the wookie to hear." He looked at her with unfocused eyes. Goddess, they were wasted, but still managing to have a lucid enough talk.
Leia, whose curiosity had always overridden her sense of danger, leaned in with her ear near his lips.
"So, I'd use my hands, lips, and tongue to get you off," He whispered as his breath tickled her ear. Her breath hitched at the thrill of him whispering naughty thoughts into her ear, and warmth pooled in her.
Leia moved her mouth to his ear. "How, precisely?"
She pulled her head back and raised her brow at him. A dare. She felt excited at her own boldness, for not shutting this down and leaving. The conversation felt illicit, dangerous.
Han brushed his hand against her, the heat of his palm setting fire to her arm.
He leaned in again to whisper, "First, I'd kiss you. Just a light kiss at first. Then I'd burry my hand in your hair when I deepened the kiss with my tongue."
Leia gasped softly, impossibly aroused on by the idea. "What would you do with your other hand?" She whispered.
"I'd..ahh, I'd slowly graze my hand up your side, brushing the side of your breast, before I'd put my arm tight around your waist to pull you real close to me." He whispered back.
Leia's breaths were shallow, and her toes curled at the image. "Then what?" Her voice had become husky with desire.
"After some kissing to get things warmed up, I'd ask you if I could touch your breasts."
Leia was completely breathless and nodded.
"I'd hold you from behind, pull you back against my chest. I'd brush your boobs on the outside of your shirt with my thumbs, real soft, and kiss your neck while I'd slowly unbutton your blouse. Kiss down your neck, move the bra straps aside and kiss your shoulders, maybe give you a little love bite, cup you in my hands, dip my finger into your bra to get a little closer to you, maybe squeeze a little if you like that. I'd unhook your bra and turn you to face me."
Leia's fingers absently traced her neck sensually as he spoke, her eyes closed in concentration.
"I'd lick and suck your breasts until you moaned. Then I'd pick you up and you'd wrap your legs around my hips so I could carry you to my bunk. I'd probably hold you up against the bulkhead on the way and kiss you again. I'd cup your ass and grind against you for a minute because it would feel good. So you'd feel how hard making you feel good would make me."
Han, who had also closed his eyes as he imagined this act (not for the first time), fluttered them open. Not quite embarrassed, but drunkenly concerned he might be taking this to a place he couldn't take back, stopped. This brilliant woman who suffered no fools, including and especially him, would know that he was not making this up on a drunken whim but was instead narrating to her his fantasy.
"That sounds…umm." Leia paused to swallow, tracing her lower lip with her tongue before biting it gently. She was certain she had never been this turned on in her life. Her body hummed with desire and she squirmed.
"It sounds like you've put some thought into this, Captain. But that might not be quite enough to…release the tension." She whispered again, attempting to keep her breathing even.
"I ain't done yet, Princess. Just getting started." The cockiness, absent for much of the evening came back. He boldly picked up her hand and threaded their fingers while he caressed the inside of palm seductively. Leia gasped at the contact, convinced she might come just from the sensual way his thumb rubbed against her palm rhythmically.
"I'd ask you if I could keep goin' and take off your pants and my shirt." Han whispered, the barest hint of his tongue against her ear.
Leia sucked in a breath again. Her stomach tightened. She needed to change her underwear. "Go on," She whispered back, squeezing their still conjoined hands.
"Once your pants were off, I'd place soft kisses from your ankles to your panties, each leg. Maybe kiss the inside of your thighs while I rubbed my palm against you." He ran his thumb slowly, roughly, against her palm again. Leia made a sound in the back of her throat.
"I'd slip my finger into your panties and see how turned on you were. I'd brush my thumb against you while I used my fingers on you. I'd use my lips to kiss you all over your body and my other hand to touch your breasts and run my hand across your belly and along your neck."
Leia's eyes had fluttered closed again, her head back as she imaged his mouth and hands on her. His words scorched her with lust.
"Then I'd take off your panties and kiss down your breasts and belly. I'd hook my arms under your thighs and get my shoulders right up against you. I'd put your leg over my shoulder so I could feel you dig your heel into me every time it felt good. I'd keep moving my mouth down, until my lips reached all the way down to your..." He paused and leaned in super close to her ear to whisper where his mouth would go. He did not use language appropriate for a princess and Leia felt her face turn scarlet. "Then I'd finally taste you." Han groaned at the thought. He subtly placed his hand over his lap and crossed his legs to hide his arousal. He closed his eyes and muttered, as an afterthought, "so fucking good."
"You'd tell me how you like it, and I'd use my mouth and my fingers, first slow, then faster. You'd moan as I learned what you like. You'd cry out as you got closer. And after a few minutes, when you came, you'd call out my name, pulling my hair. And you'd see stars, Princess."
He bumped his shoulder against hers, squeezed her hand, and smiled at her dopily with a wink. "and you'd feel better - good. Watchya think, Leia?"
"I…." Leia breathed in a sultry alto tone. She turned to look at him and blushed. "I don't have words, Han."
Her lady bits ached painfully with need. She might just die, or orgasm. Han narrated how he would kill her with his words and she'd gladly submitted to oblivion.
Yep, she was still drunk. Lady bits? She stifled a giggle at an old memory as a young teenager at a sleepover where they had naively discussed anatomy and sex, to the degree they'd understood it, then.
She dared a glance at him – he was gazing at her longingly, burning for her. Occasionally in unguarded moments, she would catch Han eyeing her with frustrated, churning…something. Want? Something more than sexual, she thought. She hadn't known what to do about it, but she liked it. It made her feel like a woman, something in addition to and distinct from a leader of the Rebel Alliance, the once Princess of Alderaan. It excited her.
"Good speechless, or I'm going to kill you, speechless?" He asked.
"You have my weapons, so I think you are safe," She quipped, smiling at him from under her lashes.
Han gave her a sly, proud smile. "Leia," He moved his free hand and tenderly traced her face with work-worn fingers. She outlined his scar and lips with her thumb, the slightest hint of nail grazing his mouth.
They were magnets of polarity, drawn together by the forces of the universe as often as they repelled each other.
Their eyes met and they paused, drawing close. Yes she thought kiss me. Touch me. Han leaned in, ghosting her lips with a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back slightly and swore.
Han closed his eyes, fighting against himself to kiss her, before he got control and rested his forehead against hers. "M'gonna hate myself until the day I die for saying this, but I think we're too drunk to do anything else tonight."
Leia struggled to catch her breath, eyes closed in disappointment, possibly relief. The two of them coming together felt inevitable, but the event deserved more respect and weight than a slipshod, drunken hookup.
"Mmmm" She agreed, as she allowed herself to briefly run her hand through his hair. "I should go."
She kissed his cheek hotly, the barest hint of her tongue against his skin, before slipping on her coat and leaving. They'd leave for Ord Mantell the following evening. To be continued, she hoped.
XXX
The next morning, Han woke with a start and a pounding headache. Blurry memories of giving Princess Leia play-by-play of how he would go down on her resurfaced, to his utter horror. He could recalled putting a painful stop to anything physical happening because they were too drunk, and he didn't remember her leaving mad, but fuck, what had he done?
When she came aboard that afternoon to leave for Ord Mantell, he quickly pulled her into the crew cabin.
"Leia, look, last night's a bit fuzzy, but I remember enough to apologize. M'sorry." He looked at his feet, embarrassed, vulnerable.
Despite a monstrous hangover, Leia had been more sober than him and remembered everything about last night. The stolen caresses, the erotic fantasy he narrated to her. How she re-played that fantasy last night while she brought herself to climax in her bunk. How her vision had whited out and her body tingled for an hour at the power of her orgasm.
She smiled at Han as she kissed him lightly on the lips before pulling back.
"On the contrary, Captain Solo, I found our conversation to be very stress-relieving. In fact, I feel much better today." She shot Han a seductive grin over her shoulder as she sauntered out of the cabin.
A proud smile hitched up on his lips as he followed her to the cockpit. He had a good feeling about this mission to Ord Mantell.
Notes:
Surface Pressure by Lin-Manuel Miranda:
But wait, if I could shake the crushing weight of expectations
Would that free some room up for joy
Or relaxation, or simple pleasure?
Instead, we measure this growing pressure
Keeps growing, keep going
'Cause all we know is
Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa
Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa-oh-oh
Who am I if I don't have what it takes?
No cracks, no breaks
No mistakes, no pressure