Quickie Challenge (#4)

The following story was submitted by PUSH

Okay, so this is my contribution to the "Quickie Challenge"
I'm still looking forward to a few more submissions!
In fact, if you want to read Zyra's,
we would really like to get at least ONE more submission....

Meanwhile...enjoy:

Han and Leia Solo were on Mirial, a small planet in the Outer Rim that hugged the arcing end of the Hydian Way right before it entered the Corporate Sector.  They were there on New Republic business, a dynamic duo when it came to making things happen, they were in high demand by the Galactic Chief of State.  So long as they were allowed to travel together, that suited them just fine.

Their assignment had them staying on Mirial for two standard weeks and they were wrapping up their visit with an evening to themselves, free from conferences and after-hour engagements.  It would just be the two of them, on a planet that hardly recognized them as anyone of substance.  There weren’t many beings who would understand what a novelty it would be to be able to walk around, dine and dance without it being a galactic spectacle.  For Han and Leia, to be ordinary was a particular treat.  

Han hadn’t been especially pleased that they would be spending their one day off dressing up in fancy clothes.  But he complied mostly without complaint, especially after accepting a promise from Leia that she would find a way to make it worth his while and when she appeared in their living room suite with a low cut dress, he decided the night might not be a total loss after all. 

They took a rented hover limo to the Planetary Arena a few dozen city blocks away where the Galaxy Faire happened to be in town.  Lando Calrissian had gotten them tickets, apparently he knew the owner of the traveling show.  Not that Han and Leia Solo couldn’t have gotten tickets themselves, but this way provided them with some much appreciated added obscurity.  Leia had been delighted to find out that the faire happened to coincide with their trip, having remembered attending the event during her childhood. 

The Galaxy Faire was basically a large arena or ballroom transformed into a miniature replica of the universe.  Music, artworks, history and cuisine all spread out like an encyclopedia come to life.  It was a black tie affair, usually only attended by the planetary elite and attached to some fundraiser or charity.  There was a greater chance that this group would be more apt to recognize one of the Solos, but the crowd would be substantial and of course, the upper crust of Mirial was sure to be a far cry from the aristocracy of Coruscant or most any other Core World.

After checking their coats in, they entered the arena near the end of the Sanctuary Pipeline and began their tour of the galaxy with local delicacies from Bakura, Rattatak and Endor.  They meandered along the Corellian Trade Spine stopping at Nkllon, Devaron and ending up, of course, with a visit to Corellia.  A few planets away, there was an elegant display in the Caamasi cluster in remembrance of Alderaan.  Leia was pleased to find them serving Alderaanian fire water and Han accepted a large mug of Alderaanian ale.

Everything on the displays was complimentary and there was no shortage of server droids and humanoid waiters.  As the couple traveled along the Perlemian Trade Route they found their glasses being refilled after nearly every planetary orbit.  Han noted with pleasure that Leia seemed to be especially giddy and relaxed and he decided that getting dressed up had been well worth the price of seeing her enjoy herself and let loose a little bit, even though this particular festivity wouldn’t have been his idea of a night out on the town. 

He left Leia near an aquarium display at Mon Calamari in search of the men’s refresher.  On his way back to her, he was stopped by a long-winded bureaucrat who recognized Han not from his infamous galactic exploits, but as the ‘consort’ of Princess Leia.  Several refills of Alderaanian ale later, he finally broke free from the man only to return to Mon Calamari to find that Leia was no longer there.

He ambled slowly through the exhibits, targeting those that they had not already visited.  A quick check of his chrono and he realized that nearly a standard galactic hour had passed since he had seen his wife and he began to get worried.  Opting to try to clear his head a little, he set his glass down on the ledge of an exhibit and headed across a blank expanse of the Unknown Regions, something he wouldn’t have done in the Falcon without calculating a series of long and complicated hyperspace jumps.

Somewhere in the distance Han could hear a jizz band wailing on their instruments and the lighting of the arena had dimmed to a nice rendition of a misty twilight evening.  Han finally spotted Leia standing by herself at the end of what he thought might be the Corellian Run near a table that he suspected to be Tatooine.  His own navigational system was a bit distorted by a drunken haze and he walked through the displays like the Falcon through an asteroid field.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in the Outer Rim?”  He whispered into the curtain of tresses that spiraled down the back of Leia’s neck.

When she turned around and giggled and splashed a bit of fire water on the arid table that was Tatooine, Han considered thoughtfully that it was lucky for them that they had sprung for a hover limo that night. 

“Waiting to be rescued,” she breathed out, trailing one arm around his neck while she brought her full glass of fire water up to her mouth with the other.  Her eyes were lidded over with an alcoholic lust that sent pleasant signals straight to Han’s nether regions.

He took a moment to enjoy the warm, pliable body pressed up to his, while he deftly took the drink from her lips and set it down on the table.  “I think you’ve had enough of that, Princess,” he chided her.  When one of them wasn’t thinking clearly, the other obviously had to; it was a rare occasion when this responsibility fell on him.  “Do you even know how many of these you’ve had?”

She shrugged.  “Every time I looked up, my glass was full,” she explained whimsically, waving her hand like an assistant at a magic show.  “Like a perfect reflection of my life,” she added, both arms around his neck now and a look of pure bliss stamped across her face.

Han planted his hands low on her back and reveled in the sight snuggled up against him, with the weight of the universe seemingly lifted from her shoulders she looked like the young girl he had met on the Death Star all those years ago.  He smiled down at her, returning her toothy grin with a sideways smirk of his own.  “You’re drunk,” he stated without accusation or judgment.

She seemed unperturbed by his assessment.  “And what do you intend to do about it, Captain?” 

When delivered not with the edge of irritation or anger, but with the sultry, throaty tones usually reserved for their bedroom, their pet titles made for a stronger aphrodisiac than a Falleen’s pheromones.  The pleasant warmth that had been simmering in his pelvic region flared hot.  He stared down at her. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Only about a dozen times,” she quipped.  “Although your eyes have never quite managed to make it up to my face.”

Guilty as charged, he dragged his gaze up the length of her neck, weighted down as it was by the tantalizing valley of skin that disappeared in a triangle of blackness to the pleasure-filled depths beyond – its gravitic pull rivaled only by that of the maw.  “It’s your beauty within,” he drawled as he squeezed her hand in his and ignored the dubious roll of her eyes.

Leia’s hand snaked underneath his jacket, finding its way to his lower back.  “I like you…within,” she purred and with the novelty of height afforded to her by some very high heels she curled her tongue around Han’s earlobe before nibbling on it playfully.

      

The fog in Han’s head had begun rapidly lifting.  Leia probably had no idea how much she had drank while the attentive servants at this party kept substituting half-empty glasses for full ones.  Lucky for them, between the mood lighting and the crowded dance floor, no one seemed to be interested in hanging around the Outer Rim, so at least her current shenanigans wouldn’t be on the headlines of some gossip holo tomorrow.  But he knew it was probably time to get her out of there while they could both find some humor in the situation come sunrise.  And, although she was playfully flirty right now, Han had visions of her snoring and drooling on his lapels by the time he got her to their rented limo.

He placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward the exit far past the Unknown Regions.  “C’mon, sweetheart.  Time to bow out gracefully.”

“We’re leaving?”  She asked, clearly unhappy with the news.  “But it’s not over.”

“It is for us.  Don’t worry, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Aw-oh,” she hiccupped and steadied herself against him, her arm sinking lower down his back until her hand was buried beneath the waistline of his trousers.  She wiggled her fingers and attempted a pinch as she giggled against his shoulder.

Han discreetly removed Leia’s roaming hand and cradled it into his own.  “I think your alcohol resistance training could use a refresher,” he said in a low voice as he kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face for the benefit of the rare passerby.

“Not as much as my Han Solo resistance training,” she whispered in the direction of his ear, trying for a sexy purr and only half succeeding. 

“You’re such a tease,” he countered, wrapping her up underneath his arm.  “You’ll be asleep by the time we hit the skyway.”

“Will not,” Leia argued with a playful slap to his midsection.  “There is no way you’re not getting lucky tonight, flyboy.  Mark my words.”

“If you ever paid your wagers, I’d take you up on that bet.”

“I do so,” she exclaimed loudly enough, even in her drunken state, for her to realize that it was too loud.  Stifling a laugh with a hand to her mouth, she then continued on with a much lower voice, “I do so pay my wagers.  It’s just so happens that I rarely ever lose, that’s all.”

Not caring to argue with his soberly stubborn, but drunkenly downright obstinate wife, he took a quick step forward and opened the door for her instead – they had reached the ends of the universe.

The large atrium of the public arena was deserted, it seemed Han and Leia were the first to leave the party.  Han waved at his valet and the tall, lanky humanoid scrambled through the double doors leading outside inviting a cold burst of the frigid nighttime air into the lobby.  Han felt Leia shiver against him as the chill wrapped itself around her naked arms. 

“Oh, our coats,” Han said, snapping his fingers as he remembered them.  “C’mon.”

He pulled Leia along.  She seemed to be just inebriated enough to remain pleasantly compliant.  In fact, Han thought that the bright lights of the atrium and the cool evening air may have sobered her up a bit, especially since she hadn’t propositioned him or grabbed him inappropriately in the last several minutes.

Han found the coat check room unattended.  “Wait here.”  He leaned Leia against the counter and disappeared into the large closet.

Fumbling through a legion of dark coats, Han cursed under his breath when the closet door thumped closed, dousing most of his lighting.  His eyes were still adjusting to the darkened conditions when a small, yet familiar set of hands trailed along his shoulders, down his midsection, over his rear and snaked around to the front of his thighs.

“Remember what you did to me on Serenno?”  He heard her whisper.

Serenno.  It was a similar situation but it was before they were married.  They had found themselves on an out of the way Outer Rim world with a broken hyperdrive and stalled New Republic negotiations.  Leia had been wound up tighter than the repulsor engines on a Hutt’s grav sled and Han had taken her out for a good time to a part of town that couldn’t even spell the word princess much less recognize one.  He hadn’t even had the decency to commandeer a respectable closet then, getting Leia halfway through his foreplay routines in a dark corner booth at the back of a pub and marking up her neck so badly that she had to wear high-collared outfits for a month.

“Yeah, and you made me promise never to do that again,” he replied, turning around to face her – the whites of her eyes glistening in the dim lighting.  He could smell her, the intoxicating mixture of her unique scent wrapped around the lingering bouquet of her fading perfume.

“Promises are made to be broken.”

He could tell by the way she had said the words that he was in big trouble even before her hands starting traveling resolutely toward their destination and her lips began to explore his neck and jaw line.  “Sweetheart, we’re only a few minutes away from the hotel.”  Even to him his voice sounded far too capitulating but he was trying his best to remain the responsible one.

“I have a bet to win,” she whispered, ushering the last syllables into his ear with a delightful swirl of her tongue.

“Leia, we’re in a coat closet.”  He stated the obvious, hoping that would be enough of an argument.

“Your point being?”

Her hands were quicker than his retort and as his belt came undone there was no longer enough blood flow above his waistline for his mind to form an intelligent response.  Cool hands coaxed things along from semi-erect to full attention and pleas of resistance fell dead upon his lips as his mouth devoured hers and his trousers slipped down to puddle around his ankles.  He took a moment to revel in her expert ministrations before begging her off, lest things end a tad messy and a bit too early.  She relented obediently as she began gathering the silky material of her gown up in fistfuls and he assisted her until her midsection was swimming in fabric. 

They fell forward, the soft comfort of a thousand strangers’ outer garments cushioning Leia’s introduction to the opposite wall.  Han had to shuffle step, his ankles wrapped up in his tailored trousers but his lips never left hers.  Leia was doing her best to dance out of her panties and when Han hitched one of her knees up to his waistline he heard the distinctive sound of expensive lace being stretched beyond its limits. 

She whispered something decidedly dirty in Corellian as he slid inside of her and he groaned in frustration from the sensory overload – there was only so much that one man could take.  Utilizing her arms on his shoulders as leverage she hitched herself up a little higher.  Their height difference made sex standing up difficult at best on a good day, but Han Solo was never one to back down from a challenge.  He hoisted her up a centim more, cupping her lovingly with his warm hand against the cool fleshy skin of her hip and pressing her against a gentleman’s thick wool overcoat. 

He felt mostly certain that it was the alcohol talking, but regardless he found Leia to be in a particularly verbal and complimentary mood.  Each thrust brought on a new term of endearment, some nice but mostly naughty and it did little to improve his stamina.  Perhaps that was the idea, he thought fleetingly, they were in a coat check closet after all.

His mouth had been exploring the soft skin along her neck and collarbone and one hand had worked one of her breasts free, his fingertips rolling the hardened nipple.  She quieted, leaning her head back against the softness of a coat with a fur-lined collar and he pulled away just enough to study her.  The sight before him was stimulatingly erotic.  Her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, a sliver of pearly white teeth glistening in the glow of the faint lighting.  He watched the rise and fall of her chest in its heavy, erratic rhythym, her alabaster skin gleaming with a sheen of perspiration and flushed pink with pleasure, evidence of his attentions marked with blossoms of red. 

When she opened her eyes and clenched her legs around his waist he began to work his way back up her body, his mouth blazing a trail up her throat before kissing her hungrily as he helped her ride out the wave of her orgasm.  Her limbs now limp with exhaustion, he let go of the hold he had on her hip.  Using the weight of his body to pin her against the wall and shortening his stroke, he skillfully guided himself to release, muttering his own Corellian sweet nothings as he spilled himself inside of her.

When he was done they remained pressed against each other, chests heaving and their breath coming out in gasps, each seeming to be waiting for the other to begin the complicated task of disengaging.  Han was the first to make a move, pressing his hands against the jacketed wall behind them and angling himself away from her.  She fumbled with the breast that Han had been playing with, plopping it back into her corset.  Their eyes traveled down to their conjoined hips and intertwined legs, studying them like a puzzle that needed to be unraveled - unsure which piece to remove first lest the entire thing crumble.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” she said looking up at him, still a little breathless.  If the cool air hadn’t sobered her, it certainly seemed the sex had.

“I don’t think we’re finished yet,” Han replied smartly as he levered himself further away from the wall slowly separating himself from her. 

Leia’s leg slid from off of his waist and her body dropped a few centims until her feet hit the floor.  She kicked the torn panties from off of her ankle and let the material of her dress fall back into place.  Save an uneven rash of blushes along her neckline, she looked ready to address the Imperial Senate; meanwhile Han was still pulling his trousers up over his thighs.

“Where’s our jackets?”  She asked casually, as if Han had been slacking off on his coat check duties.

“I don’t know, I got a little distracted,” he replied over the sound of his zipper traveling northward.

She swooped down and picked up her panties before she began rummaging through the army of jackets.  She stole a glance in his direction, shaking her head a little.  “What is it about us and the Outer Rim?”  She mused.

“Not enough oxygen in the atmosphere?  I don’t know.”  He had fastened his trousers and joined her in the hunt.

“Well,” she said as she turned around, their long overcoats in her arms.  “I did tell you that I’d make it worth your while.”  She held her coat out to him, one eyebrow arched devilishly.  “And once again…I didn’t lose my bet.” 

Han took her coat without a word and helped her into it.  After all – what could he say?  Losing a bet with Leia had never felt so good.  When they emerged from the closet, the coat check girl looked at them sideways, Han handed her their receipt and tipped her generously before hastening Leia out the door. 

Early the next afternoon, when the Falcon finally slipped into hyperspace headed for the Core Worlds, there was a moment of thoughtful silence while the couple bade farewell to the carefree anonymity that they always seemed to find tucked away somewhere in the Outer Rim.

**

Several weeks later…

“And the last item on the agenda,” Mon Mothma stated to the small conference room of her closest contingents.  “We’ve just received a last minute request for a New Republic Representative to act as mediator in a border dispute.”

The entire room groaned and every set of eyes glanced at their counterparts offering preemptory sympathies to the unlucky party.  Border disputes were usually deep-seated issues that spanned generations and mediating the opposing sides to a solution was a thankless job at best.

“I’ll take that auditory response as a declination of interest?” Mon replied.  “Very well, you all know the drill.  Call up your calendars, last to serve will be first to go.”

Han and Leia didn’t even bother powering up their datapads, they had just gotten back to Coruscant from a scenic tour of the Hydian Way.  Leaning back in their chairs they crossed their arms in triumph.

“Where is this border dispute anyway?” One of the Bothan ambassadors asked.

“Polis Massa, in the Outer Rim,” Mon replied, her head still buried in her datapad.

This information garnered another groan from around the table, except from a certain infamous couple.  Han ticked his eyes over toward Leia and turned his head when he found her looking at him.  Images of a coat closet on Mirial and a dark corner booth on Serreno flashed through their minds simultaneously. 

The pair smiled and then turned to Mon Mothma and said in unison, “We’ll take it.”

***

Hope you enjoyed it.

Remember:  We still have Zyra's to look forward to...

Julz??? 

Didn't you say you might have something???