This is dedicated to the one I love, the one we ALL love, our dear KnightedRogue. She shares her enormous Corellian-size talents with us freely and magnanimously, smiting down half of her readers in her wake, Thanos-style, every time her Ladyship deems to drop her words on us. Just a little something to make YOUR Friday extra special, KR, for a change - you demanded a braid ficlet, so ye shall have it…
Mucho kudos to my beta-reader and master pruner, AmongstEmeraldClouds, for her time, patience, insights, know-how, and, best of all, her endless supply of good humor.
They were surrounded by nothing but vastness - dark winking space, and time not bound by demands. Long hours with little to do, as their not-so trusty ship conveyed them ever so slowly towards an unfamiliar pinpoint on a starchart.
Having become experts at banter and sparring with words over the past three years, it came as little surprise that Han and Leia had naturally - finally - moved on to playing and teasing each other's bodies as well. Wrestling for control, taking pride in pushing the other's buttons, eliciting curses and oaths and heated expressions...
Tonight, he had surprised her as she disrobed for bed, her hands tangled in the oversized shirt as she wrestled it over her head. She jumped as he gave the garment an impatient yank and then moved close behind as if to shelter her from the onslaught of the cabin's chill. She looked down at his tanned hands cradling the pale cool of her breasts, spellbound as the half moons of his thumbs demanded the unswerving attention of her nipples. Heard him unleash a low predatory growl buried within his throat, bemoaning his day's long separation from her, to give proper attention due his other love. Felt the unabashed heat of his unquenchable desire radiating against the curve of her back. Moved for him, as he shuffled them towards the bunk, accompanied by the clink of belt buckle and rustle of clothes. Knelt on the bunk's edge, bending forward at the gentle insistence of his palm on her back, his hands finally settling on the yoke of her hips to guide his own forward as he plotted their course, hurtling them through the creation of their own time and space…
Afterwards, she lay light-headed and hoarse. She hoped she hadn't disturbed the other living inhabitant of the ship with her desperate cries for Han, and was already red-cheeked at the thought of facing the Wookiee over next morning's panna cakes. But while she still thrummed from the sear of Han's body wrapped around hers, it was her eyes that were bereaved, having been robbed of the sight of his body in erotic service to her own. His riotous mess of hair that seemed the barometer of his state of mind. The symphony of movements in his torso, muscles flexing and twisting in concert to ignite the ever-smoldering coals of their passion into a roaring blaze. His face, surely stamped with a determined concentration as he chased their entwined pleasure.
The sleep she tumbled into was uneasy, her mind taunting with vivid imaginings of all she had been unable to see. She awakened, trying to soothe her ache by letting her gaze rake over his sleeping form in greedy recompense. At the sight of his beautiful still frame, she reached down to gather in her long single night braid, and dipping the tip into the ink of her still-lit desire, she set about applying it to the canvas laid out before her.
Starting with the finest of brush strokes, she dabbed the point of her braid into the crevasse of his chin to dust over his scar, delighting in the twitch of his full lips. She kept her touch soft as she slid it with slow deliberation over his chin and flicked it over his Adam's apple. She watched the prominent peak recoil upwards in evasive maneuvers - surely by now he should have known she would not allow for such an easy escape, she mused. She had to fight the urge to lick and taste that hard male fruit always on easy display, especially knowing how it would reverberate with a surefire moan when she branded him with teasing lips.
She took mercy on his Adam's apple and dragged the tip of her braid down into the small hollow at the base of his throat, the gateway to the broad expanse of his chest. Her thick dark bristle swept down to mingle amongst the bramble of sandy blonde hair that protected what she now knew to be a pair of exquisitely sensitive nipples. She dabbled lightly in places and applied broad strong strokes in others, as the artist in her saw fit.
As she deliberated her next choices, she took note of the quickening in his strong chest, as if silently begging for a more liberal application. A glance up at Han's pillow showed closed eyes but underlined by a telltale smile, suggesting he was in the midst of swapping his dream state for a far superior real-life fantasy.
Leia zigzagged her braid down the long expanse of his torso, feathering it across the rippled shoals of his abdomen, making a quick detour to plumb the depth of his navel, which was disrupted by the answering quiver in his belly.
She continued tracing a delicate southward trail, stopping just short of the expected prize awaiting her attention - what Han proudly deemed his Corellian Morning Glory. Bad luck to let it go to waste, Sweetheart, he had often warned her.
Swapping tools, she discarded her long-haired brush for the finer implement of her tongue to free his moan of anticipation that she had finely built and rightfully expected as downpayment for her artistry. She continued to exact an exorbitant fee from him, filling the coffer of the tiny cabin with his gasping breaths, like the delayed echoes of her own keening cries from earlier in the night. Her rhythm finally broke when his hand splayed across the crown of her head.
"Ride me," demanded his husky rumble, although his pleading eyes told the tale of his mighty need. "I wanna watch you."
Resting her chin on his belly for a moment, she smiled up at him, but instead of rising to fulfill his wish, she paused before reaching again for the end of her braid. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, which burned with a gold glinting want, she loosened the fastener at the end of her braid and began a slow unwinding of the glossy strands. She watched his eyes glower with lustful jealousy at her own hands as she went about the unhurried work of dismantling the braid, a privilege that she had until recently reserved for him.
When at last the long strands unravelled, she moved to kneel by his side. Combing her fingers through her freed locks, she swept her hair forward, half of it over each shoulder. Two chestnut curtains fanned out across her chest and fell well past her waist, leaving only a sliver of pale skin down her middle available to needful eyes.
She positioned herself above him at last, moving with all the majesty of the royal monarch she had been groomed to become, sinking down on him as if she were seating herself atop the throne of her ascension. The wail that escaped her, to join Han's groan from beneath her, was most certainly not one of royal etiquette or upbringing, however.
From her new vantage she surveyed her dominion - the powerful heave of his breaths as he tried to reclaim those she had stolen from him, the amazed rapture on his face when he found himself snug inside of her at last - all that she had imagined as she had bent before him earlier in the night. Now, she wallowed in Han's mirroring gaze roving over her with a voracious heat.
"I wanna see all of you, Sweetheart," he murmured, reaching up his hands to unveil her breasts. She caught his hands with her own before they could reveal what she had obscured and saw his brow furrow in bafflement. Without a word, she grasped his palms with her own and laced their fingers together, pushing back on his arms while straightening her own. Braced above him, she began a languid rolling of her hips, revelling in the decadent feel of him inside her, as was now her selfish custom.
Reminding herself of the task at hand, her hips found an urgent and merciless rhythm. As she deepened her movements, she arched her back, forcing the rosy peaks of her cloistered breasts to breach the cascades of brown shimmer silk with the crest of each thrust.
With her head thrown back, she could only hear Han's strangled fuck escape him, and exult in listening to his smirking Sweethearts give way to gasping Leias.