Bit more here… Note the rating bump. Thanks so much for your support.
5
Laughing in her husky way as her brother twirled her around in the Endor night, Leia was almost able to blend into the dense forest around her, Han thought. All that dark hair piled intricately and tightly on top of her head and crowned in a thorny wintery circlet; all that dark green velvet fabric in a long, slim column from her ankles to her throat. If he was being honest with himself, he'd confess that when he'd casually imagined this day – and he had to admit that he had casually imagined it, yeah, on more than one occasion, staring bored out into seas of stars – he'd pictured her in just about the opposite: some downy impossibly pale barely-there dress, maybe pink or yellow, loose hair flying, virginal white lingerie concealed by the thin silken fabric. The severe and battle-ready princess turned into some delicate, feminine fairy creature, all his doing, beautiful in a vulnerability that only he got to see. Softened. So when he first saw her – covered wrist to ankle other than a deep drop in the back that made her worst scars quite visible, dressed in an alluring and powerful well-fitted regal column of dark crushed velvet, hair piled way up to bare her white neck, lips a dark red – he was taken, swept away by her beauty, but also… surprised. Because that wasn't the fantasy, not really. But then when she gave him a small smile he saw how strong she felt, how powerful and formidable and herself, how comfortable she seemed, and he got it.
She'd spent so much time feeling vulnerable and childish and soft against her will. She wanted to marry him feeling strong, feeling like herself. Feeling – desirable, maybe? Definitely in control of her desire, no wispy virgin vibes here – and he hated that he'd started thinking of her as a virgin again, what a shitty analogy, but in terms of how he tried to carry himself when he kissed her, it wasn't far off – and instead the look of a very discerning, very deliberate woman. It was an incredibly modest dress save for the back, and it wasn't tight so much as just a rare garment that actually fit her. And yet – she managed to accomplish what he was sure she'd set out for. She looked like someone he didn't have to worry about. Someone with agency. Someone to be his partner, not his ward.
She was right, like always. It felt right. And watching her, dancing and laughing and drinking and tripping over herself with giddiness with their small circle of friends – that felt right, too. Seeing her be confident. Feeling her confidence in the way she put her hands on him, kissed him, beamed at him, teased him and cackled loudly at every toast's jokes. Rested her head on his shoulders and nuzzled him affectionately without caring who saw. He never realized how much he loved seeing her powerful and in control and proud of herself until he hadn't in a while.
It was a relief, too, to have seen her hair intact, Han recalled as he refilled his cup with liquor, frowning slightly. That hadn't been a given. Earlier that day, he'd fought hard to make it happen – maybe that was selfish, but fuck, maybe he got to do one selfish thing. He'd come up to her when she was readying herself in the Falcon's fresher, walking through all the evidence of her handiwork covering the lounge: garlands she and Luke had strung from flowers using the Force that were waiting to be hung outside, Alderaanian food she'd prepared with ingredients Lando had brought at her request, hair ribbons cut from that torn, soiled Death Star dress she'd drip-dyed so painstakingly. So much happy hiding so much hurt. Opening the door, he'd watched as she sucked in a breath before steadying herself and returning to applying her blush.
"You know, it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she'd said mildly, looking only at her reflection in the teeny-tiny compact that was a loaner for Mon and clutching her robe shut.
"Chewie told me you went lookin' for scissors," he'd said flatly, leaning in the doorway.
"Normally I'm not superstitious, but I think we've already had enough bad luck to last a lifetime, don't you?"
He'd spotted the scissors on the ledge before her, and then he was right beside her, so quickly he was sure he startled her. Didn't matter, not right now. "Leia. What're you doing?"
"I'm getting ready to marry you, nerfherder," she insisted, averting her eyes and stiffening as he began to stroke some of her hair.
"What're these, huh?" he demanded, picking up the scissors and snipping them a bit in the air with his other hand.
"Trimming my split ends. Before our wedding," she said, not looking at him.
"Listen," he said, cutting right to it. "I've been – trying my damn hardest, not to – tell you, what's best for you, how to – heal, move past this, and I think I've been doing an alright job."
"If you do say so yourself."
"But Leia, I'm telling you: don't cut it." He tried to catch her gaze – her mouth was in a firm line and she was looking into the sink her lap. "I'm telling you, you're gonna regret it – you've been growin' it your whole life – please, please don't cut it."
"I'm feeling a lot of judgement from you right now," she said slowly after a long pause. Psychiatrist-speak again. Her mandatory sessions had finished up but he'd be damned if he didn't figure out a way they could get them back anyway, even if it meant them staying enlisted for a bit. "It's making me feel quite defensive, and hurt."
Because I'm judgin' you, sweetheart! "Don't want that. Just being honest with you."
"It's my hair. I can do what I please with it, I don't have to answer to anybody."
"Yeah I know that, obviously, but don't you think it'd be a lil' short-sighted to chop it out of spite?"
"Spite."
"Better ways to demonstrate it's your body to control than fuckin' it over."
"You think I'm trying to destroy my body as a control mechanism. Do I really come across as that simplistic?"
"Not your whole body, just––"
"My hair – Han, please just leave it, you have no idea what my hair means to me, you haven't the first idea why it's important, I wish you would just leave me alone on this topic."
"We're gettin' married – thought the point was that I don't leave you alone with this stuff!"
"How do you know it isn't traditional for Alderaanian women to cut their hair upon marriage? You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Because you told me!" he'd snapped. "You told me. On the way to Bespin – you told me, I wanted to see it and you told me I could only see it if I married you. And I thought gotta marry her 'cause I couldn't stand the thought of dying without seeing all that – seeing you all bare like that, all raw."
"Well now you've seen me raw more than you could ever want, haven't you?" she'd said. "Now you've – gods, coaxed me into swallowing the strongest pain-killers while I was unconscious, applied ointment in my anus, soothed me back to sleep and wiped my tears and held tissues to my nose for me to blow as though I were your child…"
"Not like a child, like someone I love, for fuck's sake!" he'd snapped. "And it's not – s'not that I want to see you like that now, the point's that I know how much it means to you!"
She was chewing hard on her lip, inhaling a bit harshly, her breath hitching. "It's so funny – they didn't even know. It wasn't even a personal form of torture, break the Alderaanian princess, show her what she's worth here. It was just – automatic, without second thought. Like why shouldn't they own every part of me. It's so stupid, I started crying. Of all the things to cry about." She shook her head a little. "It's just hair, it doesn't…"
"But to you it does, sweetheart."
"But if it had been – I mean if I had been a virgin, I wouldn't – I wouldn't consider myself no longer a virgin, I don't think – I don't know why…"
"Doesn't gotta have logic."
She had inhaled heavily. "I just want a fresh start. With you. I want to cut away all the bad things and move on. I want none of this to have power of me. I don't want to say I'm nervous to be married because I'm not, I just want us to – to be able to find happiness together. The happiness we deserve. Finally." And shaken her head. "I need to finish my makeup, Han. I love you."
What a relief, to see it there – and up, too. She was so strong. Made him love her so much more, and he didn't even think that was possible.
Bestowing upon him a ring forged from the metal buckles in the belt of that white dress, the last thing she had from Alderaan. (He'd melted down a shaved part of his Yavin medal for her.) Kissing him before the priest gave the word. Approaching him now, half-sprinting really, her and Luke, she'd kicked off her shoes hours ago, gasping, "Oh! Is that for me!" and taking his drink from him before turning to Luke and declaring, "He really is the sweetest, nobody believes that he's very sweet but he is, he's veeeeeryyyy sweet."
"It was actually for me, but I'll take it," Han said, throwing an arm around her and kissing her hair. "How're you doing?"
"I'm so happy!" she said, beaming up at him. "But Luke!" Her voice dropped to a mock whisper then as she looked up at Han with wide eyes. "Han, Luke is a very bad dancer!"
"I can hear you, you know," Luke called, getting himself another drink as well.
"How did you hear that!" Leia said, gasping. "I did – I was whispering – super – super Jedi… whisper powers… Han, Luke has powers!"
"Yeah, I know that sweetheart, you got powers too," he said, smiling at her and tucking some of her hair behind her ears.
She nearly splashed her drink all over him, she swung her arms so dramatically. "What?!"
"You know how many drinks she's on?" Han asked Luke under his breath. He wasn't opposed to her drinking, or even getting drunk – hell, she deserved to unwind – it was just – so unlike her. He'd never seen her anywhere near wasted before.
"Hey, excuse me, she was like this when I found her," Luke said, grinning and handing Han a replacement drink as well.
"You did find me!" Leia announced in wonder. "You did – on the Death – but no!" she interrupted herself, taking a dramatic stance and staring them down. "I found me! Because I sent you the – the – I sent the holo! With the beep-boop – with Artoo! I did the you find me!"
"You definitely made it easier for us," Luke said, chuckling.
"I did the – go out! The – we go trash and – you – that was me!"
"That was you, that's right," Luke said, applauding a little.
"Hey, that almost got us killed, remember?" Han said, elbowing her.
"But I – I did the – I got us out!"
"Nah, baby, that was the droids."
"But they were my droids! So I – I did the whole thing! Me!" Leia said, gasping theatrically again. "I – I'm amazing!"
"You are definitely somethin' else, princess."
"Why didn't I get a medal!" she exclaimed, staring at them in horror. "You got – an' you – I didn't get a medal! S'a… double-standard, that's a double standard! Monnn! Is Mon still here? That's a––!"
"Hey hey, Chewie didn't get a medal either, huh? How you think he feels?" Han said, patting her back while Luke waved the attention of Leia's mentor away.
"Oh… Sad… I feel sad… I feel sad just thinking about it!"
"But you got a bit of medal right here, remember? On the ring," Han reminded her, swinging her hand a little.
"That's right! Chewie do you want to share my––?"
"I think Chewie will understand if you keep the ring yourself, Lei," Luke assured her, turning her back around as the Wookiee hollered in confusion. "It's your wedding ring, after all!"
"That's right!" Leia declared. "That's – look at him, Mr. Han Organa… he's so handsome…"
"Uh, excuse me?" Han said, staring at her skeptically as she spread her hands over his chest and blinked up at him adoringly.
"What? Did you really think I would take – I'm from a royal family!"
"But I ain't!"
"Well fine. You can just be regular ol' Mr. Han Solo then. Prince Consort to… to… Luke!"
"Prince Consort to me?"
"No silly, you know what I mean – Lu-uke!"
"Yes Leia?"
"Luke, I think – am I drunk?"
"Yes Leia, you are definitely drunk."
"Why woul' I get drunk!" Leia demanded, staring at them wild-eyed. "Is my wedding! Happiest day… why woul' I go drunk?"
"I don't think you went drunk, think you got drunk," Luke pointed out. "And we're all drinking, it's a happy occasion!"
"I don'… oh I know why," Leia said, nodding seriously. "I know – I know whyyy…" Her voice dropped an octave and she threw her arms languidly around Han's neck, the empty cup long forgotten. "Is so we can have sex."
Han coughed and snorted, patting her hair awkwardly as she stroked his face. "Alright Your Worship, still in public here."
"Is so – is our weddin'! And then we can – like everythin's normal! We can – that's why I was drinking, of course…!"
"Okay, sweetheart, I hear you."
"'Cause then won' hurt! An'… won' be scared! An' it'll be okay!" she said earnestly, beaming up at him before wrenching around and announcing cavalierly to Luke, "I get all – I go cry, I – hurt – so fucked up – but Han! Han is a ma-an. That's why – is sexy. An' I don' – m'his wife, so I––"
"Alright, Leia, that's plenty," Luke said, patting her arm and giving Han a look.
"S'not plenty! 'Cause – s'a wedding night no sex? S'a wedding not – bride is – cry an'… say hurt – an' always hurt, my period, ride speeder, even I shit – Han – make perfect I – I can be perfect I can – I can be perfect!"
"Okay, princess, let's wrap this up, alright?" Han said, trying to smile despite the sternness of his voice as he held her tighter. "Tone it down. Volume too. Now."
"He says," Leia was insisting, still wrestling out of Han's grasp to turn to Luke, who was gradually being joined by the other stragglers at the makeshift party, "he doesn't care an' can wait but – deserves more! I don' want – an' I used to like sex, a lot like any sex, all kinds with him I – but now I – something… happened and… and…" She looked up at Han abruptly, her eyes fearful and panicked. "I wan' go home now okay? Do we have t'stay?"
"Nah, sweetheart, we don't have to stay," he assured her flatly, scanning the grass for her shoes and bouquet and throwing a protective arm around her. "Lemme find your shoes, alright?" He turned to Luke abruptly, ducked his head. "You see her shoes anywhere?"
"Lemme grab them," Luke said quickly.
"Something…" She kept looking up at him, confused and scared, like she might cry. "Something… I don' wanna stay, okay? C'we go home now?"
"Yeah, Leia," he said as Luke handed him her things, trying to sound patient, to unclench his teeth, to be understanding. "Lemme take you home."
She nuzzled against his arm worriedly, glancing over her shoulder just a bit as he hustled her away, Luke in the background trying to give an awkward explanation – Han himself didn't give a shit what people thought, let 'em talk, who cared, but it was hard, because he knew she cared, or if she didn't care now she'd care in the morning. But he wasn't feeling that generous. He let them leave without saying a word, following the trail back to the Falcon, gruffly helping her not trip over roots and rocks but not saying much. She wasn't saying much either – just looking up at the sky worriedly, then around, opening her mouth then closing it, like she was scared but didn't know why she was scared and that made her all the more anxious. Every once in a while she would say his name, as if to start a sentence, then trail off.
Once he had on her on the Falcon he sat her in the booth and put a tall cup of water before her. "Drink up, princess."
She squinted at him. "Suppose'ta carry cross the…" Then she trailed off, lost in thought again.
"Drink it. Just water. Hydrate, all that." He gripped the table, trying to keep his face a mask. What had she said? About sex about – she thought he needed – she didn't want him to hurt her, wanted to numb herself to it – what the hell did she think of him?
"You need hydrate," she declared, pointing at him with a flopping finger.
"After you're in bed, alright? Drink."
"You got come!"
"I'll come to bed with you. Drink it and then we'll get you into bed. Let you sleep this off."
"I sleep you off," she announced haughtily, but took a few shaky sips. "S'not wine!"
"Yeah, it's water, that's kind of the point. Remember water?"
"Don' be mean t'me I've been… m'hard – my life – don' be mean I bad stuff…"
"Yeah, you've been been through a lot. Finish it, okay?"
She got in a few more sips before she was on her feet, racing and stumbling to the 'fresher and, from the sound of it, vomiting the alcohol-drenched contents of her stomach into the toilet. He grimaced a bit, trying not to look lest he throw up too, and sat beside her. "You alright? You think it's done?"
"Hurts…"
"M'sorry, Lei."
"Why's'it…" She was cut off by her own puking again, and he shut his eyes at the sight
before reaching to hold back her hair, only to have her promptly, violently smack at his hands, still vomiting.
"Alright alright, won't touch your hair, understood," he said. It went the same with the dress once he'd gotten her back to their bunk – she smacked his hands away and made him turn around while she struggled to wiggle out of it, then crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, shaking and looking confused again.
"Don' wanna – I don't… Han?"
"Right here," he said, patting her hand. "Alright – here's a bucket in case you're sick again."
"Don' – I don' feel good – do I gotta…?"
"You don't have to do anything," he said firmly. "You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do."
"Love you – don' feel – tomorrow okay? Don' wanna – sorry, I gotta?"
"Shh. Just shut your eyes now."
"Sorry… got sick m'sorry – I didn't mean… I don' wanna…"
"Leia. Shut your eyes and rest. You're fine. Okay? You're safe. You don't have to do anything but sleep. Got it?"
"Got… it…" she murmured, yawning. "Love you, I love you…"
"Yeah, I love you too," he said, and he hesitated a second before kissing her forehead. In that second she seemed to drift into sleep, so she didn't squirm. He says he doesn't care. He deserves more. Did she really think that? Had she really spent the whole night anxious and nervous about what would come next?
On the other hand – what if she had been – just tipsy, just a little drunk enough to be relaxed – if they had had sex – it's not like he would've been unhappy with that – it's not like he wouldn't have enjoyed that – not like he wouldn't have sung the praises of his good luck, that they could have that, that they could end the day with something that – meant she was doing better, that – felt so good, that – he really fucking missed, if he was being honest with himself. Like a wedding present: a perfect healed-up Leia, bare and sexy and bent over the console of the Falcon and winking over her shoulder and ready when you are, Captain.
Hard to imagine she'd once said stuff like that. Back on the way to Bespin – yanking her hair, biting her breasts, pinning her down with her wrists above her head. He'd never thought of it as violent, or degrading, or dominating – just – they were rough because they were passionate, that was that. Telling her he'd fuck her so hard she wouldn't walk right for a week. He never meant any of it, not in a – not in that way, there was trust between them – when she looked at him like she was afraid of him…
He didn't really sleep. Not really. Was up before her too, drinking kaffe in the booth and not doing much of anything, when she came out wearing the sheet as a towel, trying to yank pins out of her hair, her makeup smeared across her face. "Morning," he said without much inflection. "Lemme get you kaffe."
"Han," Leia called, her voice scratchy and tired but earnest. "About last night – I am so sorry."
"Don't worry about it. Glad you had fun," he said flatly, returning with a mug for her and setting it on the table.
"What a way to spend your wedding night – holding me while I vomit – that wasn't fair to you…"
"Yeah, well. Maybe in the future yourself a little better, huh."
She sat beside him, frowning. "I feel so embarrassed. I must've acted so moronic in front of all of our friends."
He grunted a little, said nothing.
"Do you feel different?" she asked lightly, taking his hand and playing with it a bit.
"Different how."
"Married different. I don't know."
"Do you?"
"Mostly just hungover, to be honest."
"That'll do it."
"You're mad at me," she noted, nodding. "That's understandable. It was supposed to be our day, our night, and I just made it all about myself. And that's the memory you'll have forever. That isn't fair. It was selfish."
"S'fine, Leia."
"I should've paced myself better. You're right. I was just – so happy, so excited to be so happy – but that's not an excuse. I really – I hope I didn't spoil it all Han, the whole night for you. I feel awful. I loved dancing with you, and laughing… kissing you…"
He didn't say anything, just gave her a faint half-smile as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his bicep.
"I was just so surprised to feel so good. And I didn't want the feeling to end. Can we just – start our tenure as husband and wife here, now?"
"Fine by me."
"Good," she said, kissing up his neck, softly and genuinely, her tired smile warm and apologetic and bright. "I love you."
"I know," he said as she threaded her fingers through his hair and sighed softly. He took a moment to inhale, savor it, how good it felt, before turning to her and asking bluntly, "You want this right now, or you just think you gotta?"
"What?"
"Last night you said a lot about – feelin' like you owed me sex. I know you were drunk but – yeah. Shit like that. 'Bout how you needed to get drunk so you wouldn't be scared, so it wouldn't hurt. Had to do it 'cause you owed me. Made me feel pretty sick, to be honest."
Leia took a few moments to steady herself. "That isn't what I meant," she said slowly.
"No? 'Cause I remember it being loud and clear."
"No. I think I probably meant," she said in that slow, careful voice, "that I wanted to have sex last night, and the pressure was making me feel a little anxious, so I ended up having too much to drink."
"When did I pressure you!"
"You're right, you haven't pressured me – I meant the pressure of the occasion."
Han shook his head. "You said you felt like you owed me, I 'deserved it.' You said you thought it would hurt?" He looked at her, his betrayal obvious now. "Would never hurt you."
"That's not – that isn't because of you, that's because of the – the scar tissue, that isn't about you."
"If I were havin' sex with you I wouldn't do a thing that would hurt. Ever."
She raised her eyebrows just a tad as if to say, well you've been less than gentle in the past, maybe that was just his projection? Either way, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
"I'm so sorry I made you feel that way," she said earnestly. "I just – it's not that I feel you deserve, it's that I – I mean correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like you want to? Right?"
"S'this 'cause––"
"No, it is not because I walked in on you jerking off in the shower the other day – it's just that I know I want to. I want to. And a part of me feels the suspense is only making it worse."
"Wouldn't want to do it if you were wasted. Wouldn't let it hurt."
"It might hurt! A little, at first, that's what they said – that's okay I just – it's just the anticipation, I just want to know. I want to know what my body feels like now I – I miss it. I miss wanting you inside of me, I miss feeling this flood of desire whenever you smolder in my direction––"
"Don't fuckin' smolder, you're the one who smolders––"
"I miss how you make me feel – I used to like sex, crave it with you – I'm so afraid – you know I haven't come since before? I've tried and I just – I can't, I don't know why, I can't…"
Han mentally took a deep breath, gave her his best, mildest, most confident gaze and held the thought I trust you, I forgive you, alright in his head. "You wanna show me?" he said in an even voice.
Leia gave a startled little laugh. "Excuse me?"
"Show me what you've been up to. Maybe we can make it work."
She snorted, rubbing her eyes, smearing her makeup further, her hair like a ridiculous nest. "Okay, Han."
"I'm serious."
"Don't pity seduce me, please. I don't think I can bear it."
"Not pity."
"Oh please. I just – I just monologued to you about how much I want to go to bed with you, and suddenly you're not mad at me and want to watch me touch myself. That's pity."
"S'not pity, Leia."
"It's okay if you don't desire me in the same way you used to," she said, giving him a half smile. "I understand that it's different. You've seen – you've seen quite a lot of my body under very ugly, unhappy circumstances as of late – you know I can't be quite so…"
Couldn't help himself: "Kinky?"
"Adventurous, at least not yet, you know there's a certain about of stress and a learning curve – that's okay, I understand, I just want you to know that underneath all of this fear I do desire you, I do, I want you terribly, it just needs a kind of careful excavation…"
"Sweetheart, listen – I'll wait as long as you like, alright? I'll wait forever – I mean that. Alright? Look at me. I mean that. Forever." Another deep breath for the risk – if she didn't feel the same then it'd hover there, a threat, his own need, freaking her out, but he had to be honest, saying then: "But don't ever confuse that with thinkin' I don't want you."
Moments later they had tumbled into bed, her hands tight in his hair, her eyes wide open, searching his, always, looking at him, kissing him deeply and hard and then pulling back to look at him, running her hands over his bare chest, taking even breaths – then her arms were around his neck and he was holding her, tight, her sheet-turned-dress long forgotten, kissing over her breasts while she watched him, gasping softly…
"Show me," he urged, and she sort of flushed and shook her head, stroking his face and kissing him again. "Trust me," he said, rolling them onto their sides so they were facing each other, no one on top, even though he wasn't quite sure he trusted himself.
She locked eyes with him. That seemed especially important to her now – fine, perfect, he could look into her eyes all day. Her left hand slipping into his hair, scratching gently. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked recently, he had, but not in this way, not aroused – not with her breasts heaving and the flush traveling to her cleavage – not in a way where it was alright, earned a sigh from her, when he put his mouth to her and lightly sucked.
He could hear her hand making space for itself between her own thighs, those pale nimble fingers, adroit and confident. "This is silly," she breathed, parting her thighs slightly.
"It's your body," he murmured by way of explanation. Hoped she got it. That he couldn't be the keeper of her pleasure, that she had to find it in herself first before she could explain how she wanted it to be given. That she should know her body before he knew her body.
Her eyes fluttered shut, opening every so often as if to confirm her surroundings, less and less the more she moved. He kept kissing her neck, her breasts, everywhere he could reach – but it was hard not to watch, her slow, specific movements, the way she began to sketch out an understanding of the landscape of her body. The way for once he saw her be gentle with herself. Soft, drawn-out, luxurious movements. He could smell her, had sort of forgotten what she'd smelled like.
Her eyes opened again, panicked, and then he was beside her, kissing her cheek. "You're right here with me, you're alright."
She gave a sort of sleepy, dazed, reassured nod and shut her eyes again, moving her hand just a bit faster. Lulled back into safety and pleasure. He was able to make that space, the space she needed to confer with herself, safe for her. It felt good.
It felt good – feeling her suddenly cling to him with her other hand, her fingernails digging into his shoulder, her face screwing up in effort, the impatient sounds in her throat.
"That's it," he said, letting a hand move over her ass, cup it gently.
Another sort of desperate sound, almost angry – frustrated – mad at herself––
"Got all day, just relax."
Another angry whimper.
"Just relax, sweetheart, just take your time."
It felt a bit like forever, lying there, touching her, rubbing her back, watching her face for signs of distress – she slowed way down, pressed her forehead to his shoulder, breathed evenly until she didn't. But a good kind of forever – like they did have all the time in the world, like he did have all day to just lie here and watch her touch herself, like nothing else mattered. He was so relaxed and blissed out, just watching her there, that he almost missed it when it crested over her – her face contorting into a sort of overwhelmed, relieved, open-mouthed smile, the heavy exhale in her throat like she was letting go of something she'd been carrying for far too long. Then she was laughing just slightly, opening her eyes and smiling almost triumphantly at him – "I did it."
"You did," he agreed, groaning slightly when she cupped his face in both hands to kiss him tenderly, how he could feel the slickness of some particular fingertips.
"I want to do it," she breathed, laughing a little at the silliness of the phrase. "If you want to, that is – I want to do it."
She didn't have to ask him twice – a moment of adjusting, a pause for lube, and then she was poised on top of him, biting her lip a bit as she stroked him.
"Could – we flip the other way? So I can see the door?" she blurted out.
"Can do that," he said slowly, "But – mm – don' want you to just – zone out, starin' at it…"
She nodded. "But you'll watch it? You'll watch the door?" she asked, her voice rising just a hair in pitch.
"Leia," he said, moving her hands off of him and catching her eyes. "No one's gonna come in the door. I promise."
"I know but – you've locked it?"
"Think so," he said, rubbing her forearms to warm her up, bring her back to him.
"Can – would you mind if I checked?"
"Hey," he said, pulling her off and close to him, stroking her hair. "Hey hey, what's this about, huh? No one's coming in, no one's coming for us."
"I know that, I know that intellectually," she said quietly. "I just…"
"Just what?"
She took a breath. "I suppose I feel exposed. On top of you – like it feels like my whole body is very – exposed."
"Alright, alright, we can fix that." He scooted her back, then, after a moment, draped the blanket over her shoulders, so that he could see her perfectly but she was otherwise covered. "How's that, huh?"
She gave him a small smile. "Better."
"Good."
She leaned down and kissed him warmly, her hands moving to stroke him again. "I want you," she said against his lips, almost as if to herself. "I really do."
"Want you too," he managed, trying hard not to shut his eyes, to keep track of her expression. As she sat back up and gave him a little smile, he caught her eyes. "Stop if it hurts," he said seriously.
"Mmhmm," she murmured, inhaling deeply and adjusting the blanket on her shoulders.
"Leia. M'serious. Stop if it hurts."
"I will," she promised, and then ever-so-slowly he was eased inside her.
She was breathing very carefully, he could hear her, very steady inhales and exhales that demonstrated the effort that went into relaxing – the same effort it was taking him not to move, because she felt so good. Only once her hips finally, finally met his did he manage to gasp out, "You okay?"
She did that little breathy laugh again and moaned and smiled. "Yes," she said before she began to move, as if she herself was surprised to find that to be the answer. "Yes – I'm okay."
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