19. DAY 77 – Part III
Two fluted glasses and a bottle of sparkling wine dangling from his fingers, wearing only shorts, Han Solo pressed his forehead against the cold durasteel of the cargo bay hatch.
Kriff, he had never been so nervous at the perspective of making love to any woman in his life. It had caught him off-guard, having almost given up the idea of something of this kind happening with Leia at this point of their relationship.
But she was serious about this, as serious as she always was with anything else. Days ago, she had said that she was not ready, but was she now? What had changed in between?
Nothing was simple with her, was it? And it probably would never be.
If they were going to do this, he had to do it right from the start. There could be no second chances with this. For once, the Princess had asked something from him that he really wanted to give her, share with her, and he would be up to the challenge. He needed to show her how much he loved her, needed to learn her in all possible ways. Make her happy. Where this would lead them, he didn't know and he didn't care, as long as it were with her. He only hoped it wasn't some altered state of mind on her part.
Just remember the three basics, Solo, Han addressed himself. She's a Princess, she's inexperienced, she's been tortured. Oh, hell.
Where was Han? What was taking him so long?
She did not want to think. Maybe he had changed his mind and was trying to find a polite way to tell her.
No.
He had said the words again and kissed her in a way she had wanted it never to end. She did not know which had been more powerful, those words or his kiss. It did not matter. Any remaining doubts had vanished in that moment like the mists in Alderaanian mountains when touched by the sunshine. Did love feel like this? She only knew she wanted to make him happy. To be happy, with him. And that there was not much time left.
The restlessness took hold on her body again and she chewed her lower lip nervously. In the dark, Princess Leia closed her eyes and stretched her senses, trying to recognize his steps on the nearby deck.
Han palmed the door open and coded the little service lights along the bottom of the walls to light. He had to see her eyes before going further.
She was not where he left her, on his makeshift bed. The Corellian found her instead curled up in a corner of the room, sitting on the freezing floor. He was used to it, having spent almost all his life in spaceships. She was not.
"Hey, whatcha doin'?" He said as he rushed to her side, noticing her bluing toes.
In his way to her, he deposited somewhere the bottle and the glasses. Sliding his arms below her knees and behind her back, he lifted and moved her swiftly to the insulated cot.
"You're trembling," he noticed, rubbing her arms and legs.
"My hands are dirty," she shot back, suddenly grinning.
Uh-oh. "Need a scoundrel in your life, hmm?
Leia's cheeks flushed. "I might be ready for one," she whispered.
Han Solo slowed the movement of his hand on her thigh until it was a soft, tender brush. "I can be nice," he said, flashing a lopsided grin.
"You'll have to teach me, though," the Princess added, lowering her gaze and reddening more deeply. Gently, he lifted her chin to make her look at him again, locking his eyes into her brown, liquid ones.
"We'll both learn," he stated. "I've never made love to a princess before."
"I'm not a princess anymore. I never really was." She reached with her hand to touch his face.
"You'll always be a princess to me," he whispered, only a breath away from her lips.
He finally leaned down and kissed her, slowly and deeply, savoring the coolness in her lips, the warm in her embrace, the heat of her answer. Raising her onto her knees without breaking the contact, his hands traveled from her shoulders down her spine, exploring gently the soft flesh covered by the thin fabric. Encircling her narrow waist and venturing, almost reverently, beyond and beneath. The shock almost made him pull away when he discovered exactly nothing under the shirt.
She mimicked every one of his movements, hesitantly at first and enthusiastically later, until her palms rested positively on that part of his back usually crossed by his blaster's sling.
"I think you're a quick learner," the smuggler proudly declared, feeling her lips and her tongue progress along his throat.
"You shaved," she observed coyly.
"Yeah," he breathed against her collarbone, his skillful fingers finding the first button of her shirt.
No more words were needed for a while.
The first button was undone easily, but she stopped him, taking his hand in hers. He waited,for a horrible moment pretty sure that she had changed her mind. But she simply guided his arms around her neck and started to unbutton the shirt herself. He played with her hair and her mouth, until she was ready. With a single movement that revealed all her royal upbringing, Leia discarded the garment and gave herself fully to his caresses.
For a while, it was all kissing and tasting and mutual discovery, neither of them wanting to rush what they had wanted for so long. However, from time to time Han felt her jerking in his arms, as if he had brushed a raw nerve. Panting heavily, he finally put some distance between the Princess and him.
"Leia, tell me where those needles were," he asked.
She shook her head.
"Yeah, sweetheart," he commanded tenderly, cradling her jaw and thumbing her cheek. "I wanna be sure you know the difference between an imperial probe and me."
Her voice a mere whisper, she told him. He thoroughly covered with kisses every place she named, trying to replace the painful memories with new ones, until he was sure her quiet moaning was only from pleasure.
"Those were ten. Where were the other two?" He softly asked.
She turned her face from him, too ashamed to look him in the eye. Han wanted to cry and to kill somebody at the same time. Those bastards, doing that to an innocent girl. But better not to think of her as an innocent girl now or he'll never get on with it. "You relax, Princess, I'll found where they were," he said, trying to inspire a confidence he didn't feel.
He slid his hand between and up her thighs, feeling her muscles tense under his touch. "There?" She shook her head, her eyes lost in the ceiling. "There?"
"Higher" she said with a small voice.
"There," he said as he felt her whole body go suddenly rigid. They had been dangerously close to her most sensitive zone, one at each side. A wave of nausea swept through Han Solo at the thought of how much pain they must have inflicted her. Regaining his control, he continued. "Now, just don't be scared and let it flow, sweetheart..." he announced, right before he slipped his fingers inside of her.
A moment later her eyes rounded, giving him a look of astonished wonder. He crushed her lips with his own once more, feeling her body slowly starting to respond while he kept working on her. A minute later, the lines on the bridge of her nose started to soften and the corners of her lips curled slightly upwards.
"You like that, uh?" he whispered almost to himself, barely waiting for her nodding emphatically. "Then you'll probably like this as well" he said cockily, his lips and his tongue promptly replacing his fingers.
With a guttural sound, she closed her eyes, arched her body and started to shake her hips with a rhythmical movement. And he felt more than rewarded for his daring move when she entwined her fingers in his hair, encouraging him.
She was almost ready, or that was what he thought at first. But when he raised his head again, he saw her blank expression and realized that the Ice Princess was back. Disengaging gently from her, he seated leaning his back on the panel and pulled her softly to him, in the familiar position they had adopted dozens of times in the gun turret.
"Let's have some wine, Princess," he proposed to a somewhat disoriented Leia.
The wine must have been strong or at least her resolution was, because no longer after, she faced him and wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands on her hips guided her, slowly, very slowly, so slowly that he had to start solving the hyperspace equations for the jump from Corellia to Coruscant in his mind in order of not failing her.
But he did not and they were finally joined in the most intimate of ways and she cried softly his name and it was glorious.
"Easy, your Highness," Han Solo said triumphal after a while, "Wait for me."
Finally, Han's wish was granted and he heard her. Clear and loud, and there was no mistake about its origin. The small hold he still had loosened and everything exploded.
Chewbacca left the cockpit to get a glass of water. While in the lounge area, he heard sounds that his sensitive ear immediately identified with the Princess's voice. Was she having another nightmare? The Wookiee approached her cabin but realized the sound came from another direction. The cargo bay. He heard then a second voice mixed with the first.
Having shared close quarters with Han Solo for more than ten years, he recognized at once what was going on. With a quick step, he grabbed a carafe of water and returned to the cockpit, sealing every hatch in his way.
Finally.
Leia Organa had felt her body climb to unbelievable levels of tension and pleasure upon Han's touch, a tension that demanded a release the dimensions of a thermal detonator explosion. She had felt for a brief moment her body scattered in pieces all over the place, only to find that the fragments were falling together again, fitting better than before, matching Han's body curve by curve. The tears that flowed freely down the corners of her eyes were just the excess of joy in her soul.
Han Solo buried his face in his Princess mane. He wanted to rest there till the end of time. Greedily, he inhaled the scent formed from the mixture of bodily fluids that would be from now on and forever, uniquely theirs. And if some tears of his were added to the mix, he didn't care. "'Love you," he murmured, feeling her nodding in response.
He was beautiful. The most beautiful man in mind, spirit and body she ever met. And, for now, he was all hers. For now, their naked bodies still entangled under the covers, a cocoon inside the cocoon the Falcon was, Leia was at peace with the galaxy that had brought him to her arms.
An old Alderaanian poem she had memorized long ago for an assignment from her teacher materialized suddenly into her consciousness.
And thus, when afterward comes looking for me
Who knows what death, anxiety of the living,
Who knows what loneliness, end of the loving
I could say to myself of the love (I had):
Let it not be immortal, since it is flame
But let it be infinite while it lasts.
He still couldn't believe what had happened. The beautiful Princess had come to him. His Princess. He liked that, although he knew he scarcely deserved it. Expressing his love for her in this way had felt so damn good. It had not been technically flawless maybe, and the Ice Princess had tried to interfere, but it had been perfect in its own way. Just perfect.
Han was apparently sleeping, a possessive arm draped tightly around her waist. He looked younger asleep, innocent. She could not stop herself and reached to touch his hair, smoothing it out of his eyes. Eyes that opened promptly, giving her an amorous, amazed, mischievous look.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"Don't thank me, Princess," he interrupted smugly, "you ain't seen nothin' yet."
She blushed for the umpteenth time and smiled tenderly.
"I was referring to your coming back for me in Echo Base, Captain," Leia said regally.
For a while, there was a competition between them on who had the biggest grin.
"Anytime, sweetheart," he answered at last, huskily, nuzzling her neck, "I can always use someone to get out and push."
Leia's giggles turned into moaning when his attentions to her throat became more insistent. Then, with a dexterous maneuver, Han pulled and flipped her so she rested on top of him.
"Need another ride?" He asked devilishly.
The commlink chirped repeatedly and Han Solo reached for it in the darkness. He spoke briefly through it and then turned to Princess Leia, drawing her again to his warm.
"We're entering Bespin system," he announced, a resigned note in his voice. "Gimme ten and the 'fresher is all yours, your Highnessness," he said with a soft kiss on her temple.
The poem is not mine, of course. It's the last part of Soneto da Fidelidade - Sonet on Fidelity - from Brazilian poet Vinicius de Moraes.
E assim, quando mais tarde me procure
Quem sabe a morte, angústia de quem vive
Quem sabe a solidão, fim de quem ama
Eu possa me dizer do amor (que tive):
Que não seja imortal, pôsto que é chama
Mas que seja infinito enquanto dure.