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This briefing felt like it had been going on for hours, but Leia was doing her level best to at least appear to be paying attention. It was important information, background she needed to know as they planned upcoming missions, but it was boring her to tears. Mostly because it seemed that the five to ten key points of new information were scattered into a flood of intel Leia had heard about twenty times already. Or written up herself.
She would never admit it, but the thing that had helped her stay awake and alert the last thirty minutes was watching Han. He was seated two rows up from her, off to the side but in her line of sight as she looked toward the holoscreen where the key points from the briefing were being shared.
She’d been a bit surprised to find Han sitting through this. And he actually seemed to be paying attention. Well, paying attention in his own very Han sort of way, his characteristic slouch a contrast to most of the other Rebels in the room, his hand moving to either make notes or draw doodles from time to time as he listened. She couldn’t tell which from here.
Leia had spent a lot of time during this briefing watching Han’s hands, remembering how they’d felt. On her, around her, inside her—
She nearly gasped aloud at the memory, stopping herself just in time and refocusing on the notes in front of her. If she interrupted the briefing with her obvious bit of salacious daydreaming, she would never live it down.
She listened for a bit longer, then made a quick note with her stylus, resisting the temptation to put the end of it in her mouth while she paused to think.
You look good with something in your mouth, she’d told him, as he’d slicked up his fingers, before he’d put his mouth to her breast, his tongue sliding—
Leia avoided obviously shifting in her seat at that memory, but it was a near thing.
Another time, she’d promised him, and she’d meant it. It was just difficult to figure out exactly how and when to make that happen. Particularly on a frozen base with limited private space. A similar moment focused on him in one of the storage areas was not so easily done; chafing and frostbite were not exactly a great way to reciprocate an orgasm that had rendered her limp in his arms.
One-night stands were fairly common among the rank and file, but she wasn’t the rank and file, and she knew that enough people were paying attention that it would be noticed if he were seen leaving her quarters. The Falcon was a possibility, if she could get away without being noticed, but she needed some strict boundaries around that. Han’s cabin, even for a night, seemed like too much of a step, especially since he frequently gave her use of his cabin when they were on missions together. She didn’t want Han, or anyone, getting the wrong idea.
This thing between them was just—okay, she didn’t know what this was, precisely, but she knew that she couldn’t let it be too much. He was leaving at some point, presumably, and Leia didn’t have space for anything resembling a relationship anyway.
That’s why she’d sought him out before, for a good time between friends, a way to blow off steam. Nice and quiet, so that the prying eyes on base didn’t try to make it more than it was. The last thing she needed was more of that look Luke had been giving her lately when Han came up in conversation, the look that had “if there’s something you want to tell me, I’m here” written all over it.
Leia didn’t want to talk about Han. She wanted to turn the tables on him.
The thought of that made her shiver, in a good way. She could wipe that smirk right off his face, make him desperate for it, put him at her mercy. Put her hands, her mouth all over him, bring him to the edge, make him crave her the way she’d been craving him. Their moment in the storage area had definitely taken the edge off—he was everything he’d promised her, and more—but it had also whetted her appetite.
The briefing moved on to discussing how they were addressing some of the logistical challenges of their current base. Leia watched Han’s hands again as she listened, remembered the feeling of his tongue against hers. Then she made a plan.
Her Worship was up to something. Han wasn’t sure what it was, but he recognized that sort of devious joy in her from their time making plans—or re-making them—on missions. Half the base assumed Leia Organa was the ultimate rule-follower, but Han knew better. Leia broke plenty of rules, she just was…selective about it. Sneaky. Smart.
He couldn't help wondering whether this latest plan of hers, whatever it was, involved him. Their little encounter in the storage area, brief as it was, had provided him plenty of, uh, inspiration in the last couple of weeks, but nothing had happened since.
You’re imagining things, he told himself, and he could practically hear her voice in his head using those words to brush him off.
[Cub, I’m going], Chewie growled, interrupting Han’s thoughts.
Huh? “Going where? We don’t have a new job,” Han wondered.
[I was asked to assist with the efforts to troubleshoot the speeders], Chewie replied. [They think the freezing problem may be related to a faulty moisture barrier—]
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m comin’,” Han said, but Chewie stopped him.
[I do not believe they require your assistance], Chewie said. [You are free to bother the Little Princess this evening instead.]
Granted, Chewie had a lot more expertise on complex electrical systems than Han did, but the usual way this worked was that Chewie examined the systems and provided advice, Han offered his two cents and helped translate, and once their little consultation was done he and Chewie peeled off to win a bunch of credits off the Rogues or whoever else was around for sabacc.
[Threepio will provide translation, as needed], Chewie said, as if anticipating Han’s protest. [Their Shryiiwook is improving. And our usual card players are away, in any case.]
Right. Luke and the Rogues were away on a mission.
“‘M not gonna go bother anybody,” Han protested mildly.
[Sometimes she needs bothering], Chewie observed. [She will burn herself out if she does not rest. Or eat.]
Fine, maybe he would go see Leia later. Someone had to keep her on her toes.
He waved Chewie off. “All right, all right,” he said. “See you later.”
Han was considering whether to tackle one of his many outstanding maintenance jobs on the ship or whether to veg out in front of an old holo when there was a buzz at the hatch.
Well, well, well.
“Evenin’, Your Worship,” he greeted, leaning casually against the entrance to the ship as he let her in. “Doin’ an inspection?”
She had a datapad in her hand, as if she were coming on official business of some kind. Which might fool some beings on base. Not him, but some.
“Good evening, Captain,” she said, in that crisp tone of hers. “May I join you?”
Captain could mean a number of things. It could be part of the “I’m just here on business” ruse. It could mean she was pissed off at him. It could also mean Leia was nervous about something.
He gestured her inside with a flourish, stepping aside, and closed the hatch behind her. Leia kept moving, and Han, still curious of her intent, followed her into the lounge.
“What’s up, Princess?” he asked. “Want a drink?”
She set her datapad down on the dejarik table, but remained facing away from him, and didn’t answer.
“Leia,” he said, and that’s when she turned around to face him.
“You remember,” she began, her voice still crisp and businesslike, those eyes focused on him intensely, “how you…” She trailed off.
He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.
How I got you off? Yeah, I fucking remember that.
He grinned. “This a social call?”
Her mouth curved slightly into a smile, and Han could see a little of her mask fall away.
“You could say that,” she said. “But I don’t expect a lot of talking.”
Han could feel all his senses perk up in anticipation. He stepped toward her and put his hand on her shoulder, leaning in to speak in her ear.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You seemed to like me talkin’ to you last time, while I touched you.” Just the thought of her coming on his fingers stirred him; even the sight of her kriffing white snowsuit had him aroused.
He could sense Leia leaning in a little, taking a deep breath, but she almost physically pulled herself away a second later.
“Shut up,” she said, and pulled his head down immediately to hers in a fierce kiss.
He met her lips with his, pouring all the heat, all the tension of the last two weeks into it. Hells, he had to touch her again, feel her again; he couldn’t believe she’d come to him, and on a night when Chewie was away—
He broke away for a second, unable to contain himself. “You planned this,” he said, grinning and a bit awed by it.
“Shut up,” she admonished him again with a slight smile, pulling his body closer to hers and renewing the kiss.
This time the kiss lasted several minutes before they came up for air. Leia’s eyes lingered on his for a moment, then darted to the side, as if she were looking for something.
There was that look again, like he’d seen it on their missions. Constructing a plan. Getting ready to execute it.
That really shouldn’t be so much of a turn-on, but it was.
Leia’s gaze turned back on him, and one of her hands moved from his shoulder down to his chest, where it slipped inside his shirt. Normally her hands were ice cold on this kriffing planet, but the kiss must have warmed her up.
He bent down to kiss her again, which she allowed for a moment before giving him a slight push away with the hand on his chest.
Okay, her terms, right.
“Whatcha got planned, Your Worship?” he asked softly, his hand making its way slowly down her neck until it stopped just above the collar of her jumpsuit. He wouldn’t mind a repeat of the storage area, but here they had more…options.
She smiled. Oh, this was a good smile. The I’ve just won at sabacc smile.
“You’ll just have to follow my lead,” she said. Both her hands went down to his waist, and she guided him to a seated position on the bench.
“All yours,” he said, and she kissed him again, looming over him, her hands already roaming his body.
“All yours,” Han said, and Leia nearly shuddered with want. She’d debated where to take this little tryst—a maintenance bay, maybe? One of the cargo holds? She quickly dismissed the thought of taking him to pieces in the cockpit; she was feeling bold, but maybe not that bold tonight. Another time.
Another time? She hadn’t even had him this time, yet. But she still enjoyed the thought, filed it away for later.
Now Han was right here, following her lead, letting her loom over him and touch him, letting her bend down to kiss him, kissing her back, his hands moving slowly but confidently over her.
Once she had his jacket and shirt off, she paused to pull down the zipper of her snowsuit, and the look in Han’s eyes as she did had her feeling ridiculously sexy.
She kept her eyes on his as she moved it down, enjoying the expressions she saw crossing his face, the heaviness of his hands on her waist, the sense of his breath kicking up as he watched her. Anticipation, awe, desire—she couldn’t capture it all, could just sense flickers of it in his gaze, in the air around them.
When the zipper neared her waist, where his hands still rested, she paused to pull her arms out of the snowsuit. Han’s mouth curled up just a touch, and Leia felt herself flush, remembering the marks he’d left on her chest the last time.
She remembered his hands, too, and suddenly she needed them again. She pulled one of them up, holding it carefully, and brought his palm to her mouth briefly, kissing it.
“Touch me,” she instructed, and was surprised at how husky her voice sounded.
She’d expected him to go to the newly-uncovered skin on her chest, but as she released his hand it traveled first to her temple, his fingers cupping her cheek, caressing the edges of her hair, then slowly sliding down to her neck, then her collarbone. Leia fought the urge to grab him and kiss him again, her need to maintain control warring against her desire to see exactly where this could go. Where he might touch her next.
His hand continued its journey, sliding aside the strap of her undergarment and circling the swell of her breast, where it rested for a moment. Then the rough skin of his thumb flicked across her nipple, and Leia gasped.
Time had slowed, but sped up again as Han’s other hand tightened on her waist, steadying her and pulling her toward his lap. A minute before, Leia had been looming over him, directing him, and now the plan she’d devised for this encounter was rapidly crumbling, her body threatening to capsize at his touch.
“Good?” Han asked, and Leia was surprised that it seemed a genuine question, rather than a cocky assumption. Something in the connection between them had caught him, too.
“Very,” she responded, and something in the way he smiled made her need to be closer, immediately.
Was climbing onto his lap and straddling him part of her original plan? Not remotely, and Leia was vaguely reminded of her intent as she felt him hard against her. This was meant to be about Han coming apart for her, about that confident grin lost in genuine pleasure, about making him feel the way he’d done for her.
Writhing in his lap as his hands and mouth did indescribably beautiful things to her neck and breasts was definitely a deviation from that plan. Although to be fair, Han was certainly not complaining.
He had started talking again, in between licks and nips and caresses, starting with the occasional whispered Leia and the occasional fuck as she moved against him, and then somehow knowing just what to say to make her want to completely abandon her plans and just let him work her over, forever and ever, right here.
“Been thinkin’ about this,” he managed, after his fingers replaced his mouth at her breast. “About you.”
His hands were all over her; his mouth was relentless, his tongue hitting every sensitive spot as if he’d mapped it. Leia had never actually come from having her nipples played with, but it was beginning to look like a distinct possibility. Where the hell had all this come from? And when was the last time she’d just let go?
Oh, right, the last time. In the storage closet.
Leia’s plan for this evening floated back into her mind. The thought of turning the tables on Han was perhaps the only thing that could top where things were going right now, and she rocked her hips against him again at the thought.
“Gods, Leia,” he moaned into her skin.
At that, she gently but firmly moved his mouth away from her chest, shivering as the warmth left her taut nipple. Her hands cupped his face, and he looked up at her as she brought him to her lips for a brief kiss. She kept her eyes on his as they drew apart, moving her hands down to his bare shoulders as she spoke.
“Your turn.”
Han made a small noise of surprise, then a deep groan of pleasure as Leia spread her hands across his chest and moved her mouth to his neck. She was hungry for him, she realized, almost desperate to get her mouth on him, to taste his skin. The sounds he made as she got her tongue on the little dip in his throat confirmed that this move had been the right one.
His hands did not exactly remain idle either; as she touched him, they continued to travel her upper body, with one hand tangling in her hair as her mouth reached his chest.
She looked up. Han’s face was clouded, his expression hard to read. She flicked her tongue across his nipple.
“Good?” she asked. Not everyone liked this, she knew. And that expression could be desire, or pain, or—
“Very,” he said softly, and Leia smiled. She was just getting started.
Han felt like he’d suddenly been thrust into one of his better erotic dreams, although he was fairly sure that even his brain would have failed to imagine Leia with her hands all over him like this. The heated looks she was giving him as she looked up from his chest, the slow rocking of her hips against his, the feeling of her tongue, her teeth—this was usually close to the part of the dream when Han woke up alone in his bunk.
But she kept going, and amid the fog of arousal Han realized a few things. One, Leia not only had planned this, had wanted this, but was taking charge of this in a way that was so Leia that it made him want her even more, if that were possible; two, for a woman so gifted in language, there were very few actual words escaping her mouth at the moment. (Sounds, but not words.) Three, if someone else had taught her that thing she was currently doing with her tongue, he needed to thank them, perhaps send them a gift.
Suddenly she stopped, and Han for a second felt like he’d had cold water thrown on him when she got up from his lap, but as she stood up it became evident that she wasn’t done with him.
She pulled him up by the belt of his blaster rig to a standing position, paused for a split second, then opened his trousers in what felt like a single motion.
Han was stunned into silence, but happened to remember that Leia liked it when he pushed back, that the push and pull of their interactions was part of what made the spark. He bent down to capture her lips, his hands slipping her snowsuit down further, and as he kissed her he felt his bloodstripes slip to the floor.
A bit of a warning clicked in the back of Han’s mind—maybe we should go to the cabin for this, how long has Chewie been gone?
Leia already had him in hand, so he was having a bit of trouble making his brain work, but he managed to pull away from her lips long enough to get her attention.
“Wait, Leia—”
She stopped immediately, but from the look on her face she hadn’t wanted to, and was concerned about why he’d stopped her.
Han tried to start at least three sentences unsuccessfully—“What are we…? Do you want to…? Should we—” before managing to finish one.
“What do you want?”
Leia tried her best not to frown when Han stopped her; she didn’t want to do this at all if he didn’t want to, but it had felt like they were on a roll, and she had been enjoying the escalation.
She also didn’t want to get too emotionally heavy here; part of the beauty of their previous encounter was that aside from the initial setup, there had been very little thinking involved. It had been simple, hot, exactly what she had wanted, with the promise of more.
“You were very generous with me,” she replied to his question. “And I did promise to return the favor—” she moved her hand on him gently— “another time.”
He blinked in reaction to her motion, then his mouth curved up slowly in that crooked grin. “Cabin might be more comfortable,” he suggested.
She shook her head. It was enough that they were on his ship; the cabin was too much. She tugged down his underwear.
“Here,” she repeated. “Sit down.”
“But Chewie—”
“Won’t be back for a while.” She gave him a light push, until he was once again seated. “You think I want him to walk in on me with your cock in my mouth?”
“I—”
“Unless that’s not what you want.”
“Leia.”
Based on the way Han was looking at her, Leia took that as a “yes.” After some quick work rearranging their clothing into a soft nest to pad her knees—she was nothing if not practical, even in this—she got started by running her hands up Han’s legs and parting his thighs.
Oh, a shiver. That was a good start.
Their earlier activity already had him half-erect, and while Leia had already touched him, this was her first time seeing him. There was something so beautiful, so vulnerable about this situation, and while part of her chastised herself for getting poetic about a damned dick , the rest of her was just eager to make him feel good.
She wet her hand and stroked him, looking up to watch his face as she changed the motion, the pressure, switching it up according to his response. She bent down to swirl her tongue across him, and he made a choked-sounding moan.
Yes, more of that.
She briefly lamented the fact that she could either tease him with words or take him into her mouth, but not both. Well, perhaps later. She had said there wasn’t going to be a lot of talking.
She took him in swiftly, circling her tongue over him as he slid into her mouth, and lingered there for a moment, not moving.
“Leia,” he moaned again. “Oh, fuck.”
She stole another look at his face; Han’s eyes were on her, his mouth slightly open, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Leia began to move, her lips firmly around him, one hand doing a complementary motion on every stroke, her other hand caressing his thigh.
Han’s breathing ticked up again, and as she increased her pace, he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. One of his hands was clutching the table.
“Tia guld,” he moaned in Corellian as she paused her up and down motion to run her tongue along the tip of his cock.
Leia looked up at him again, and the look in his eyes startled her, made her flush. This was supposed to be light, simple, but his look was intense, and for a moment she shared it. As she resumed her motion, she felt one of Han’s hands come to rest on her head—not pushing, not demanding, just caressing her temple, cupping her cheek as she moved.
“Leia,” he said again, “Baby.”
She swirled her tongue around him again, quickened her pace, put all her focus on him, still vibrating from Baby, from that look, from the feeling of him against her tongue, from the way he shivered as he approached the edge—
“‘M gonna—” he warned, but Leia was ready for him, for the way he trembled, for the taste, for his quiet cry as he let go.
His hand was still on her, caressing her gently as he came down. His look now was a sort of exhausted bliss.
“That was…fuckin’...” he trailed off, and Leia laughed.
“Good?” she asked.
“Very.” He smiled. “‘C’mere.”
Leia let herself be pulled up for a kiss. She couldn’t stay much longer—she knew that Chewie’s engineering task and Threepio’s distractions could only give them privacy for a brief while—but she did enjoy seeing her plans come to fruition.
And there would definitely need to be another time.