The following story was submitted by julz once she finally accepted that she couldn't find her original and decided to rewrite it. Thanks for persevering!
Correllian Engineering Systems rates the standard YT-1300 with a passenger capacity of six, in addition to a pilot, co-pilot, navigator, astrogator, and two gunners. The specs are, presumably, based upon an average Corellian human.
Right at the moment, though, there were nine humans, two droids, and one Wookiee on board, and the Falcon was bursting at the seams.
It would be at least two more standard days before the ship made port on Courscant and the Falcon's captain was not a happy man. His back was killing him, and he was nearly cross-eyed with fatigue.
He'd just spent three weeks in the Outer Rim, and had been looking forward to returning to Courscant and enjoying a little of his accumulated leave time. When he'd learned that Leia had already left for Pandir and would be gone for several more weeks herself, he'd changed his mind about taking time off. It hadn't been all that difficult to convince General Willard to send him and Chewie to collect the Ambassador and her team, although eyebrows had been raised. He suspected that Willard knew full well why he'd volunteered for the assignment.
It didn't matter. He'd get to see her at least a week sooner than he would have otherwise, and with luck, he might finagle a day or two of holiday on the way home.
It hadn't worked out quite the way he'd hoped.
The election had gone badly for the candidates supported by the New Republic, and the victors had been anxious to have the Ambassador and her entourage off planet as quickly as possible, ending further public discussions about the touchy subject of New Republic membership once and for all.
The few remaining council members who supported annexation had decided to take their case to Courscant. They'd gathered at the capitol's spaceport, hoping to hitch a ride on whatever New Republic transport arrived to escort the Princess home.
Unfortunately a few members of their party were rather trigger-happy and when the dust settled, six council members were dead on the tarmac, and five of them were holed up in the Falcon's crew cabin, getting a free, if slow, ride to Courscant. The para-light boosters had been damaged by blaster fire at close range, and the Falcon could not sustain a hyperspace jump for any extended length of time. She was now limited to mini-jumps of an hour or less, and she needed a good two hours to recharge the remaining boosters between jumps.
Han had spent the better part of three days calculating and executing short hyperspace hops, slept badly for four nights running on a couch in the central lounge, and hadn't been alone with Leia for more than ten minutes in all that time.
This was partly his fault, as he'd been rather testy when he'd found out that while he and Chewie were mopping up the mess in the landing bay, she'd been conducting negotiations with the hijackers. Whom she had insisted were her guests. Diplomatic guests, with diplomatic privleges.
By the time he'd found out what she'd been up to, the Falcon had already taken off, and General Solo had found himself outmaneuvered.
They were eating his food, tramping yellow dust all over his ship, and just flat being underfoot. Every time he turned around, someone was there. Sitting on the couches in the lounge, while he and Leia watched a holo drama. Playing games at the holochess board with Chewie. Always complaining about something.
It didn't get any better at night. The guests slept on bunks in the crew cabin. The General, the Wookiee, and the two security officers accompanying Leia to Pandir slept on the couches in the lounge. And Leia slept on the bunk in the medical alcove.
By the second day, Han had taken refuge in the relative quiet of the cockpit.
Setting the coordinates for the next jump, he launched the ship into hyperspace yet again. Four, maybe five more jumps, and they'd be home. Probably not tomorrow. But the next day, for sure.
He stretched and cracked his back. Time to get up and walk around a little. The intercom buzzed and his copilot's voice filled the cockpit. ["Solo! Are you in the cockpit?"]
"Where else would I be?" Han snapped back, irritably.
["Would you come down to the maintenance bay? I need another set of hands down here."]
"You makin' any progress bringing any of those boosters back up?"
"All right, all right. Gimme a minute or two, I got a couple more things to do up here."
Han spun his chair, in preparation to leave the cockpit, and was startled to discover the Princess standing in the doorway. "Hey," she said, smiling.
"Well, hey." He dropped back into his seat.
Leia walked into the cockpit and settled into the navigator's chair, behind his. "Is it always this quiet up here?"
"Not when Chewie's here."
"Still better than back there. They never shut up."
"They're your guests, sweetheart."
"I know. I know."
He leaned back in his seat and stretched, wincing with pain as he rotated his stiff shoulders. She rotated her own chair and rested her hands, gently, at the base of his neck. "You been in this chair for three days straight?"
"Nah, I been trying to sleep in the lounge, a little. How're you doin' on the med bunk?"
"All right." She knew better than to complain, since she knew where he was sleeping.
His fingers led hers to the knots in his shoulders and she began to massage his aching muscles. It felt so good that it took him a moment to realize it when her touch changed, becoming more sensual. When her lips brushed the back of his neck, though, he gave a low growl. "Don't start something you can't finish, Leia."
"Who says I can't finish it?" she whispered, her voice a soft brush against his skin.
"We have company, in case you've forgotten."
Without a word, she rose from her chair, crossed the cabin to the hatch, and threw the bolt.
He felt a stirring of hope.
"What are you doing, Princess?"
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"I think," he said, drawing her between his knees as she turned from the hatch, "that you are up to no good."
"Me?" she teased. "I can't imagine where you'd get that idea."
His hands slid along her ribs and traced the curve of her hips. His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Are you wearing underwear?" She giggled as he found a particularly ticklish spot behind her knee, and she sank forward, settling comfortably on his lap.
She leaned her forehead against his, and they laughed, softly, together.
Her fingers began working at his buttons and belt buckle, "You know, Princess, I've had some really, really, good dreams that start off this way," he teased.
"Really? This is what men dream about? Sex in random places on a spaceship?"
"Well, yeah. What do women dream about?"
"I don't know... when I dream there's usually a BED involved."
"How boring," he murmured, his lips against her neck. "No exotic locales?"
"Um..." she was finding it hard to concentrate. "Maybe a beach, sometimes."
"A beach? I like the sound of that. Tell me what else you dream about."
She pulled away from him a moment and looked down, fondly, into his smiling face. "I dream about you, you scoundrel. Isn't that enough? Do I have to imagine being ravished in the cockpit?"
"You don't have to imagine it, honey. You're gonna BE ravished in the cockpit." His hands slid inside her shirt, and his palms were warm against her skin.
She tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, and drew his head forward, between her breasts. "You might want to start here," she whispered.
He took the hint and made quick work of her buttons, lifting her shirt over her head to gain better access. He set to work with tongue and teeth and lips and she gave a low moan of pleasure, arching her back.
"Let your hair down," he murmured, and she complied, undoing the twisted braids that circled her head. Her hair fell in a shining curtain around them and he buried his face in it, breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers.
In a moment their clothes were in a crumpled heap on the deck and she was straddling him, sliding smoothly down along his length and taking him inside her. She ground her pelvis against his and he gasped as she clutched, hard, at his shoulders. "Gods, Leia." He reached up and caught her wrists, redirecting her hands onto the back of the captain's chair. Bracing herself against the chair, she lifted her hips again, and then his hands were on her backside, pulling her back down. Two fingers slid between her folds and found her center as she rocked in his lap, and the stimulation was more than she could take. Giving herself over to the pleasure, she cried out and fell forward, heavily, against his shoulder.
He nuzzled at her neck, kissing his way along the line of her jaw. Her mouth opened beneath his, yielding to his exploring tongue as it circled in rhythm with the movements his hips were making beneath her. She broke the kiss, gasping for a breath, and turned her face away from his, her cheek against his shoulder.
"Come on, sweetheart," he grunted, "we aren't done here yet."
She directed his hungry mouth back to her breasts. "Then you aren't done here yet, hot shot." He was happy to oblige.
"Chewie's going to kill you," she gasped, pressing down hard against him, drawing him in deep, "when he smells this chair."
Han released her aching nipple and his mouth traveled back up to lick at the throbbing pulse that beat in the hollow of her throat. "Yeah, he probably is." She arched backward again, her whole body trembling with the effort. "But it'll be worth it." He slid his hands down to the small of her back, holding her steady as she ground her hips against his. "That"s it, baby," he coaxed, "let go." He held back his own release until she gave a long, shuddering cry, and fell forward against his collarbone. He felt her settle, bonelessly, against his lap, and wrapped his arms tight around her ribs, thrusting upward with all his strength, grunting with the effort as he gave himself over to the spasms of pleasure that erupted from his aching member.
They stayed there for several minutes, tangled in each other and in the chair, her head resting on his shoulder, their breathing heavy and ragged.
"Wow," she managed, at last. "Wow."
He kissed the hollow beneath her ear. "Wow, indeed."
As she leaned down to reach for the clothes they'd tossed aside so hastily, the intercom on the console behind them burst into life, and the cabin filled once more with the voice of an extremely irate Wookiee.
Sheepishly, Han rose from the chair, setting her carefully on her feet on the deck as he stretched out an arm to press the talk button. "I'm still here, Chewie. Hang on."
["You've been screwing around up there for a half hour. Will you get your ass down here and help me?"]
There you have it. A great contribution and I'm sure I'm not alone in saying I'm glad you didn't give up when you lost what you originally wrote!
And once again, if anyone at any time would like to submit to this challenge, please, feel free!