The Spoils of War
Their apartment door slid open and she saw him standing there. It was as if her intense desire for him had conjured him up somehow, after all, he was supposed to be on his way to deep space. They stood there for a moment considering each other. He was all grim determination and pent up energy, the way he always looked before battle. She never found him more attractive. If this was a Force thing, she didn't want it to go away.
In the air she caught a whiff of leather, grease and the citrusy scent of the industrial soap Han always used on the Falcon and it knocked her out of her thoughts. Finally convincing herself that he was real, she spoke, “I thought you were getting the Falcon ready?” She rubbed a hand across her belly. His hazel eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of longing crossing his face.
“Chewie’s covering for me,” he explained, as he entered the apartment. “I thought you could use a proper goodbye. I know I could.”
She drank in his words, heard the hidden promise beneath them. The door slid shut behind him and they were alone. Alone. It was such a simple thing for most. But for the two of them, it was like an elusive paradise finally found.
The walls of the apartment shrank away and the blackness of infinite space was the only thing surrounding them. It was him and it was her and they were together.
She licked her lips.
Han seemed to sense her trepidation as he strode silently to stand in front of her. His hands and arms absorbing her while he planted a few delicate kisses on the top of her head. She sunk against him, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat the only thing grounding her in that moment. The rest of her was swept away to another place, another time, where she and Han were alone and happy, together … and safe.
Sending men off into combat had never been something that came easily to Leia. But sending her husband and the father of her unborn children away was nearly too much for her to bear. Time and reluctant practice had not made it any easier. Her eyes slid shut in a vain attempt to keep him there, in the safety of her dreams, in her arms for longer than this surely painfully fleeting moment would last. It was a futile effort, she knew, but she wasn't the princess of lost causes for nothing.
Her body shivered in his arms.
“Hey?” Han whispered, pulling back just a little and tugging at her chin.
She opened her eyes and found his staring back at her. There was a line of worry along his brow.
“Don’t go,” she croaked. It wasn’t the first time she had asked him this. It wouldn’t be the last.
He didn’t answer her. Opting instead to study her for a moment and let the exchange pass between them unvoiced. She knew he had to go. He knew he had to leave. It didn’t mean they had to like it.
She closed her eyes and his mouth fell down on hers. At first tender and tentative, she enjoyed the softness of his lips as they gently caressed hers. Then with a deep breath his arms became more possessive and her mouth opened instinctively to welcome and enourage his deeper and more fervent kisses.
Their bodies pressed tightly against one another, the swell of her belly awkward, yet delightful in between them. He maneuvered them to the nearest piece of furniture and lowered her down onto it. On her back now with him hovering above her, his hands began to trace the lines of her body, his mouth devouring the delicate skin along her neck. He massaged the sensitive swells of her breasts. She whimpered in pleasure, bending her legs and tilting her hips up to meet his.
Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Han muffled a frustrated growl. They were far beyond the need for words. As a couple, it had not taken them long to learn the language of love-making, to recognize the other’s cues, to hear the silent conversation of their bodies. He pushed himself up and away from her, now kneeling, straddling her thighs. She watched him. Watched his eyes drink in the sight of her. It was something she had never grown tired of witnessing, his complete admiration of her.
He ran a hand up her thigh and over her abdomen, taking with it the light material of her tunic and exposing her ever-expanding stomach. Running his hands over the tight skin, he bent down and kissed her there. He felt for the imperfect bulges that were their children struggling for room inside of her and he kissed each one as he found it. When he looked up at her his eyes were shimmering with wonder and adoration.
“Is it safe?” He asked.
They had gone through patches during her pregnancy where intimacy had been discouraged for fear of inducing an early labor. There were no such worries at this juncture, Leia was relieved to report, as she nodded her head in affirmation.
That familiar lop-sided grin stretched across her husband’s face as he returned his attention to her body, slowly and skillfully ridding her of her clothing. His habit of pushing and testing boundaries carried over into all aspects of his life, she knew this. But never was it more frustrating to her than when he brought it into their bedroom. The deadline of his departure seemingly forgotten or at least smugly ignored, he took his time unveiling her and pleasuring her in the process.
His hands deftly kneaded her flesh, his mouth drank in her skin and suddenly time, for her too, was no longer a concept she could grasp. A swirl of his tongue over the peaks of her swollen breasts made her writhe wantonly beneath him. His fingers traveled down between her legs finding her velvety folds already slick with desire. She pressed her hips against his hand, encouraging him as she released a low, throaty moan, her body responding to the pleasure he was deftly coaxing from her.
He slid a hand over her belly as he bent forward, his face now hovering over hers.
“Are you sure?” He asked again, bending down to press soft kisses behind her ear.
She was flustered by his hesitation. Her need for him had reached a critical level, any semblance of patience and restraint had evaporated under his ministrations. Quickly she shifted from fiercely aroused to frustratingly impatient. Any moment now she could imagine the chirp of his comm or the inevitable chime at the door, beckoning him away from her.
She pulled him to her. Through clenched teeth, she whispered fiercely in his ear, “Yes.”
"Because we don't have to," he assured her between kisses as he made his way across the line of her jaw.
Of course, the practical side of her realized that he was only being cautious. He wouldn't want to take any kind of risk right before he left for the expanse of space. It wasn't as if, if complications arose in the morning, he would only be but a comlink call away. He would be across the galaxy. But practicality had no place in the forefront of her thoughts at that moment. In fact, it had no place at all.
“Goddess, Han," she growled in return, her hands groping at his still fully-clothed form, her hips tilting up to find the evidence of his need. "You weren’t even this cautious when you took my virginity.”
He pulled back as if stung, sitting up again and grinning wickedly at her as he cocked his head to the side. “Not true,” he argued playfully as he worked on the fasteners of his shirt. “I was extremely patient,” he said, as he pushed the garment off of his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, her eyes roaming over the wealth of skin and muscles now being revealed to her. “Painfully patient,” he added as he began to work on the buckle of his trousers, smiling as he recognized her predatory stare. “Thought I might go blind, I was so cautious.”
Leia chuckled at the vision Han’s insinuation brought forward. “Well, no one’s ever said you weren’t good with your hands,” she replied teasingly as she pulled forward and helped him ease his undershorts down his hips.
“Funny princess,” he breathed, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back as she took him in her hands.
She marveled at this part of him. Not just the velvety skin of his most private body part, but all of it: the ritual of their lovemaking, the sounds of their shared passion, their silent language of love. To her, Han was just a man, delicate and fragile when it came to her, so tender and attentive . Let the rest of the universe have the hero or the seasoned cynic, this was the side of him that she wanted. The soft underbelly of the hardened exterior.
She felt a warm heat swell inside of her chest. The dangers of his upcoming mission bearing down on her. It was a wondrous contrast to feel so protected by someone and yet so protective of them in return.
He leaned down and began to kiss her again, pressing her body back down onto the couch and interrupting her exploration of him. His tongue worked its way down her neck. She felt his hand once again between her legs as he guided himself toward her entrance, teasing her as he bathed his erection in her moistness. The anticipation of this moment, before her body accepted him, never seemed to fade. No matter how many times they had been together, for her, it still held in it that wonderfully eager promise of a divine union. And then, finally, he entered her with a tortured groan, the novelty of their coupling so evidently overwhelming for him as well.
His mouth desperately sought hers and they were kissing again. Each rhythmic thrust of his hips against hers, deepening the pleasurable penetration. She could no longer think of anything else save her love for him. It was like this for them, each time they joined was a silent affirmation of their love, always somehow growing exponentially and inexplicably over the years. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him to her, the pads of her fingertips gripping at the sweat-slicked skin of his back.
She pressed her heels into the conformed cushions of the sofa beneath her, spreading her knees further apart and aiding him in sinking deeper into her. She rasped something that was a mix between a groan, the divine creator’s name and an expletive. He seemed encouraged by her reaction, increasing his thrusts delightfully. It wasn't in her power to speak, the only thought resounding in her mind was 'don't stop'.
Don't ever stop.
Her stomach muscles tightened and she felt herself contracting around him, a series of incoherent o’s the only sound escaping her lips now as she clung to him through the wave of her climax.
When she finally opened her eyes he was looking down at her, looking very pleased with himself. She could feel the heat of her pleasure burning across her skin all the way up to her forehead. He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t know how I ever leave you.”
“It’s not one of your stronger suits,” she breathed back as he slowly stroked her down from her euphoric high, his hips now rocking gently as they spoke.
“You’ve always been the strong one,” he conceded.
She reached up and held his cheek in her hand, letting her thumb stroke along the rough skin there. “I love you,” she whispered and the words almost got caught in her throat.
He took her hand, kissing its palm before trapping it above her head against the cushions. “I love you, too,” he replied, his eyes veiling over with a determination she recognized all too well.
His hips quickly found a familiar driving rhythm and he held her gaze with a penetration that was scorching in its intensity. His body was searching for its release and she felt as if he could see it somewhere in the depths of her eyes, so she kept them open, drinking him in – feeding his desire. She watched the muscles in his face tighten, felt his thrusts become more plunging and erratic. He drew in a deep breath as if starved for oxygen, shuddered and then collapsed on top of her, mindful of her stomach as he did so.
They lingered there for a long moment, still joined as one. Both grasping for a purchase somewhere back in the reality of the moment. Both gasping for air. She could still feel his length pulsating inside of her as it began to diminish in size and eventually slipped out of her as he slowly moved to lie next to her. He held her to him as she turned in his arms to face him.
There were no words. Kissing her face, he ran his fingers over every part of her, committing her every pore, her curve to his memory. It was a gesture of reverence. She had seen him do the same to the Falcon, tracing the old freighter’s outlines lovingly anytime he was forced to leave her. It didn’t bother Leia to be treated similarly to his ship, most women could only be so lucky.
When he answered the inevitable comlink call, he was gruff and short with Chewbacca.
They dressed in silence, his anger with the universe swelling inside of him. She watched the hardness melt away, however, as they said their final goodbyes. In a long silent moment, with one of his large hands covering her stomach, he felt one of the twins issue their own farewell. He drew her to him, his arms encircling her as he bent down and kissed her long, hard and deep. Their hands parted reluctantly as he turned to leave.
There was nothing harder, she decided, than watching him walk away.
Onboard the Millennium Falcon, en route to the Katana Fleet
“You all right?” Luke asked quietly.
“Oh, sure. Fine,” Han replied. The lines tightened a little further.
Memories of making love to Leia on the sofa of their apartment flooded through him. It had been wonderful, but all too fleeting.
“But just once I’d like them to find someone else to go off on these little jaunts across the galaxy. You know Leia and I didn’t even get a day together? We didn’t even see each other for a whole month; and we didn’t even get a day.”