a/n: thanks, JT.

"Put your filthy hands all over me."
Justin Timberlake; "Filthy."

Filthy

Pinned into the corner of the elevator, Leia's fingers inched along the cool metal siding of the lift, leaving sweaty streaks as she blindly fumbled for the control pad – her vision was compromised, starry and fixed on the ceiling because her head was thrown back and she was whispering a prayer – Han, Han, Han –

Her fingertips grazed the smooth surface of the button, and she pressed it, hard, her knuckles turning white – physically holding the door closed – she'd felt the elevator shudder to a stop as her breath was hitching, and she couldn't risk those doors flying open –

"Han," she bit out huskily, her other hand raking down his spine – "You – lose – "

He bared his teeth, pressing them against her throat, his palm still cupping her breast possessively, thumb brushing over her nipple, while he worked his fingers between her legs –

"Arch your back," he growled.

"Ahh-ahh-and – hand you – the – ohhhhh," she broke off, biting her lip, her breath rushing out in a hiss – the bastard knew her too well, arching her hips was inevitable when he was in her up to the knuckle like that –

Her eyes flew open, and she swallowed a scream, her nails digging into his back as the climax cracked through her like a whip, hard, and sudden, hot as lightening – she jammed her finger hard into the hold button, willing those doors to stay closed -

Dressed in their finest – for Han, the one fine suit he owned, ironed, and dusted off; for Leia, a custom gown a designer had asked her to wear, cut conservatively at the neck but low in the back – the two of them had stared at the closed elevator doors, pressure building in their ears it rose, and rose, taking them to the skyscraper penthouse ballroom, when he nudged her forward, his mouth lowering to her ear –

"Bet you – bet you – I can make you come – 'fore this elevator stops – "

Stumbling back into the corner, Leia tilted her head up at him, lashes fluttering – "And what's the wager - ?"

Leaving this damn event early was on the table, and Han was not going to lose – and they hadn't been strict about terms – he didn't give a damn if the lift had jolted to its destination, and Leia had to claw at the controls to keep it closed – she was in pieces, between him an this elevator wall, and if she let him have the victory, there'd be more of this when he got her home –

I only go to these events to see your dress on the bedroom floor –

Leia's hand slipped at the controls – "Han!" she gasped desperately, and he pressed a swift, charming kiss to her lips, stepping back, shaking the bunched up skirt of her gown down to the floor.

She let out her breath, her eyes closed, and Han reached out to hold his fist on the button for her, letting her regroup for a second – she licked her lips, touched her braids neatly, clearing her throat, her face flushed beautifully – it really was a fine cosmetic, an orgasm –

"You lose," she purred smoothly, stepping closer to him.

He let go of the button, draping his arm around her shoulders, sliding his hand under the fabric at her sides to rub his hand clean on her skin, brushing his knuckles against her bare back as he drew back – she caught her breath, and he stepped behind her a little, straightening his shoulders.

She stared at her reflections as the elevator doors glided open innocently –

"Filthy," she murmured, the word enticing – both punishing, and promising.

He caught her, stopping her from leaving, and bent to kiss her throat, whispering –

"Think of me when you dance with the political devils, Sweetheart," he growled roguish.

Her heart raced, knees weak – lost the bet, he lost the bet and still, still she knew they'd last less than an hour at this godforsaken gala –

-alexandra