AN: Made a little rating change! This chapter is rated M, and features a bit of hanky panky between Han and Leia. Set soon after ROTJ. Hopefully you'll enjoy. (I'm nervous). As always, thank you for reading!
The sitting room was quiet, studious. It smelled good; the aroma of dinner simmering on the cooker drifted in, and the wall that faced the window glowed a deep orange, reflecting the setting sun outside. It was a rare, free evening.
Han was cooking; Leia reading. Unwinding separately after a long day. They would connect later on. He knew it and she knew it; it was an unspoken compact.
Han appreciated nights like this. A lot. The demands of their professional lives were as familiar as an old pair of boots, but the discoveries of playing house together still amazed him.
Everyday when Leia came home she changed her clothes. Usually from smart, crisp outfits, feminine yet tough, to elegant, sophisticated, and alluring gowns since they had some function to attend. Tonight she had gone right to their bedroom and kicked off the sensible yet high-heeled shoes, unbuttoned the blouse, unzipped the skirt.
She would join Han at the kitchen table- maybe even the floor of the sitting room, at the low table- wearing polka dot slouch pants and a loose shirt. Barefoot, like him. What the holopress would give for that glimpse of Senator Organa Solo, he thought. It made Han's eyes gleam. Oh yes, he was still greedy. He liked Leia to himself.
Leia sat on the couch with her legs curled under her, a glass of red wine at her elbow on the end table. The sizzle from the kitchen and the spit of steam let her know when Han was stirring, which meant he would wander afterward into the sitting room with the wooden spoon still in his hand and take a sip from her wine glass.
He liked to cook and he knew she liked to read, and she appreciated that he didn't ask outright for her attention, but he was getting it anyway. He was entertaining himself. Dinner needed only his intermittent attention, and the shadow his figure cast on the wall when he stood in the way of the sun was life-sized. He challenged it to a duel each time he came in the room, spinning the wooden spoon between his fingers. The first time Leia laughed at him, and he blew on the spoon like it was a smoking muzzle; the second time he and his shadow gave her a deep bow; and the third he partnered with it to jiggle a silly dance, hips making wide circles. Then he returned to the kitchen to stir the vegetables once more as they sauteed in hot oil.
Leia liked the way his shadow still showed his saunter, the roll of his broad shoulders as he moved away; how distinctly it showed the cow's lick of stubborn hair on his head. It was silent, her secret Han; the one that lived here.
Until the meal was ready, Leia indulged in a guilty pleasure. She read a fashion 'zine, the kind with the holo ads and that popped out of the data board showing human women in circumstances so much better than her own if only she dressed like them. Leia liked to smirk at them.
This issue was marketed to human females, and it was the season for advertising long coats. There was a fashion spread of a woman walking a pet through a grassy park. She looked quiet and reflective. Another woman, hailing a speeder cab in the rain, who, judging by her face, was both frustrated and successful. Still another, walking arm in arm with a man. He was about to sip on a kaf cup, but Leia didn't know- was he going to swallow the wrong way because she was about to say something outrageous or was the kaf too hot?
There were articles, too; silly ones. Not just home decor tips, but how to impress a man when he is invited for dinner. How to balance one's love life with one's social life. How sexual prowess improves a relationship.
"Look at this," Leia called to Han as he emerged from the kitchen. She balanced the data board on her palm so Han could view the woman walking in the park. Her long coat was bright yellow, and she matched the late-season foliage of the trees in the park.
"Yeah." Han was not even pretending to be interested in women's fashion. Leia appreciated that quality about him. He took a temporary seat by her feet, the spoon in hand.
"The only reason she is calm is because her pet is so well behaved," Leia assessed.
Han leaned past her to take her wine glass. "She looks like a leaf."
Leia laughed to herself before showing him the next. "What about this one?"
Han gave the ad of the couple drinking kaf a longer look. "She picks his clothes out for him," he dismissed.
Leia also gave it a second glance. The woman's coat was a light gray nerf suede. The color, according to the fashion spread, was 'mist', and the coat cost five hundred seventy-five credits. Her man was wearing dark gray: hat, scarf, one glove on his hand and the other stuck out of his coat (short and black) pocket. His pants were black.
"It is very coordinated. In a real relationship, I think you'd be right," Leia said. "How about her?" she scrolled back to the woman hailing the speeder cab. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to create an impression. I'm curious what yours is."
"Her?" A look of almost-sympathy crossed his face. "I see her problem right off. She's not gettin' any."
"Not getting any what- sex?"
"That's what they're selling, isn't it?"
"Well," Leia considered. "Indirectly. Coats first. Sex follows, I suppose. I see her as successful, don't you?"
Han shrugged. "She's good at what she does, but no one else is," he interpreted the ad.
She tilted her head playfully at him. "Oh, that must be how I looked on Hoth."
He smiled broadly. "Everyday. You weren't getting any back then, either."
"You're not fooled into buying a coat, are you?"
"Not unless you want me to. Why are you reading that?"
"It's educational," Leia said smartly, and Han chuckled. "Seriously, you know who was the one to dictate whether or not the fashion staple was long coats on Alderaan?" Leia asked. "My mother, the queen. And later, me. Designers came to our palace and we got to choose. Then it became must-have. I never read the 'zines. Listen to this," Leia read aloud, "'sprinkle chopped rosalieben on your partner's dinner. The oil contained within the leaves acts as an aphrodisiac.'"
"Really," Han said. "Too bad I'm allergic. What else is in that rag?"
"Three minutes," Leia said.
"Three minutes?" Han repeated.
"Yes. According to this, that is start to finish for a man once he's reached arousal."
"After the rosalieben kicks in?"
Leia smiled. "I don't know about rosalieben. This is about the man once he's aroused. Not what gets him to that point."
"Ah," Han said.
"You already knew that."
"Sweetheart, I'm a man. I could have written the article."
"What I want to know," Leia said. "Is what are you doing all those nights it takes an hour?"
Han looked proud. "Digesting."
"I admit I'm curious."
Han eyed her suspiciously. "Are you," he said. "You know I've got the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy."
Leia arched an eyebrow. "If we're talking about that junk," she said coolly, "I'm not so sure you should brag. I suppose there's only one way to find out."
Han felt his heart begin to race, but he said with admirable control, "Not too much fun for you."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Leia disagreed. "Three minutes could be a good time. Handy, too."
"Oh yeah?"
"Remember the Industrial Period?"
Han didn't even blink. It didn't surprise him anymore, the connections she made or the things she knew. It was revelatory. He held up a finger. "Hold that thought," he ordered. "Gotta stir the veggies."
While he was gone, Leia thought about how long three minutes was. Surely not long. Would it be good? Three minutes was sex, pure and simple, she thought. It wasn't making love, which is what she considered she and Han enjoyed. They were a lucky couple.
Leia changed her mind. No, they weren't. They were a damn hard-working couple, busy and too often not together, and they took every moment they had to show each other how much they loved the other.
They would make love tonight. Of course they would. No meetings, speeches, fundraisers. Just Han and Leia, together at home, leisurely exploring one another.
Three minutes, though...
The thought- to tear at each other's clothes, to clutch, insist- was arousing.
"You were saying," he said as he came back on the couch. He sat low, a shoulder propping him up on the back cushion, his rear nearer the edge so his eyes were on level with Leia's.
"The Industrial Period. Large families crammed together in one or two rooms and they worked all hours," Leia reminded him.
Han took a guess. "Three minutes is all you needed to steal some privacy." He rolled his wrist. "In a back alley, the speeder, a closet..."
"Exactly. It's got all sorts of uses, doesn't it," Leia mused. She shifted on a hip to turn toward Han. "The busy parents. The sneaky teens. The raiding armies."
Han traced a polka dot on Leia's pants, thinking of all the stolen moments long ago, beings aching to touch each other and having to wait. His hand went to her hip and he leaned in. "The Senator in between meetings," he said, and placed soft nibbles on her neck.
"Good idea," Leia hummed. "Really good idea."
Han pressed his tongue on the soft spot between the tendons of her neck, and thought there was only one person in the galaxy who could make the Industrial Period, known for its poverty and pollution, sound alive- sexy even- and that was Leia. She showed how people had been the same as them, always were- maybe even in this room: the building was over a hundred years old- hands squeezing each other, eyes locking gazes, sending secret signals.
Three minutes. He always took his time with Leia. It was one gesture of how deeply he loved her he didn't mind showing. The heady rush of passion, the frantic coupling, seemed more selfish. But not if she felt the same...
Leia was leaning against a couch cushion. She reached up a hand and deliberately raked her fingers through Han's hair. "Is dinner done?"
"Supposed to sit five minutes."
"Ooh, five minutes."
Han leaned close to her ear again. "I can think of how to spend three of those."
"Me, too."
They looked at each other, eyes locked and lips parted. Leia's chest rose and fell.
"Three minutes, hell," she said roughly. "Give me thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds goes into three minutes..." Han calculated.
Leia laughed in her throat. "Ten times. I don't know about that. Care to try?"
Han stood, and grabbed the data board from her hands and tossed it across the room. It skidded along the carpeting. "I'm ready," he declared.
Leia laughed, uncurling her legs, and pressed a hand to the front of his pants. Then she looked up into his face, a wondering expression on her own. "My," she marveled, "you nearly are." Her fingers worked at his belt and open air touched his skin, stimulating the hairs on his arm, the blood in his groin. "Set a timer," she purred.
He scooped her off her feet and brought her to the opposite wall. Fiery orange lit her hair. "Doesn't count until I'm inside you."
Leia thrilled at the low urgency in his voice. She finished working his pants, baring his ass and substantial erection, the virility of the scene before her making her want him right then and there. But she told herself to be patient, and slid down the wall until the pants were pulled down to his ankle. She spread her fingers around his thighs and kissed his cock, but he took a step closer, bending over her from the waist, hands at her lower back gently pushing her to the floor.
"Three minutes," he said, hot breath on her throat, groping her pants downward, "is a fuck."
Her own desire made her ready. She didn't want kissing, she didn't need stroking. She was wetter, she thought, than she'd ever been. "Then let's fuck."
Lust growled from Han's throat and Leia took hold of both ass cheeks, directing him over and into her. She gasped, the instance of his size and heat all encompassing, and she pulled her shirt up to free her breasts.
He moved in her; she felt it was the desperation of his thrust that lifted her hips; out and in and she threw her arms out, groaning an almost immediate climax.
"My goddess," she exclaimed, but he was still moving, back rounded, as deep into her as he could burrow, his tongue at her breast mimicking the movements that drove his cock in and out of her.
The paling glow of the sunset was behind Han's eyelids; everything was enhanced. He could smell dinner, feel Leia's pulse along the network of her body. She was hot, nubile, giving and taking. He felt- so serious, hungry, good.
It was getting better, and it had to stop. Leia slapped her palms down on the carpet, arched her back; her hips pinned him in place a moment and he opened his eyes. Her throat was exposed, creamy white and blue-veined, mouth open, eyes moving under closed lids.
Their bodies joined close, Han changed directions and moved side to side. Leia said, "Ah!" and he pushed hard, hard, hard and all of a sudden lost all sense of who he was, where; all he knew was to move forward; something was building, growing within him; he wanted it huge and more but it needed release or it might kill him.
Han shuddered, froze in place and stuttered a groan. Leia wrapped her legs around him. She pulled him to her, rocking her body up and down, nipples of her breasts scraping his chest, and as she rode another wave of pleasure her arms joined her legs around him and she trembled.
They were breathing hard.
"Fuck," Han said.
"Yes, indeed," Leia answered.
They panted some more, arranged themselves more comfortably around each other, and Han felt badly for the stolen fucks in alleys or closets that couldn't take time to cuddle.
"How'd we do?" Leia asked breathlessly.
Han laughed. He was too tired to lift his head so brought his wrist wearing the chrono up to his eyes. "Right on time."
"Good. Except," Leia said.
"Yeah?"
"I'm thinking of in between meetings. I need a little extra time to recover. I'll tell 3PO fifteen minutes in between."
"You serious?" Han rolled her on top of him and kissed her.
"My gods, yes. What a - I'm rubber. Everyone should have a fuck sometime during the workday."
Han clucked his approval. "Be a lot of peace, I think. Either that or falling asleep."
Leia lifted her face. "Tomorrow?"
"I'm already hard."
Leia wiggled her rear, and rubbed in the spent wetness of sex on him. "In your dreams."
Han groaned. "In my dreams, I'm hard. Think all I'm gonna have to do is look at you tomorrow, and it'll be over."
"That pretty much described me just now," Leia admitted.
They lay a few minutes more spread out on the floor, until their half-dressed state felt silly and Han's stomach growled. He swept hair back from her face with his palms. "We should eat dinner."
They pulled their clothing together. Hand in hand they went into the kitchen and got their dinner plates. Han observed his wife, her ruddy cheeks and mussed hair. Her shirt was rumpled and the neckline fell off a shoulder. She looked beautiful, his.
"I got an idea for a fashion spread," he said. "The just-fucked look."
Leia smiled. His forehead was red where it had rubbed on the carpet. His hair stood on end and his eyes were relaxed; in fact his whole body was loose, gorgeous.
"Fucked or not, I love you," she said.