(no subject)

[aimedforthemoon]

She leads Han up into her room, and locks the door behind them. Her room is just as (painfully) neat as the last time he was there, and she heads over to the desk. There are books stacked on the top, not to mention the spare chair.

These are all shifted to the floor.

Well, except one. Her biography (which spends its life facedown) is picked up and flicked through.

"You said you need photograph?"

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[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

If Han Solo were any other man, he might pause to think of the woman back home, for a moment, and it might make him stop. But Han Solo has never been that type of man (and he sees the way Leia looks at Luke and he knows) so he doesn't.

His hands shift to rest against her thighs as he leans down to return the kiss.

It's not wild and rough and breathless (not this moment anyway) but it doesn't have to be.

[aimedforthemoon]

No, not wild and rough and, well, she is starting to feel breathless. Blame the way his hands feel against her thighs, or the way he tastes, or even just that today was not the best day she's ever had. And it's not so much that she needs this (although, sex and all things that lead to it have always helped ground her) as she wants-

Him. Still.

And, fine, yes, this as well. Kissing him slow and lingering and running her hand up his chest to curl around his neck.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

If he's being honest, he's breathless too.

But that doesn't stop him from kissing her back, slow and deep, and then moving to pull her to him, closer, he's got to have her closer. He's got to have her because she understands him.

He turns the lights out before they hit the sheets of that neatly made bed of hers, even though it won't stay that way for long, there's always tomorrow to deal with the particulars.