#just a little prompt to distract me from royal elucien enemies

[separatist-apologist]

Hey! In honor or May the Fourth could we get some Han/Leia smut?

Honestly this is just domestic bliss masquerading as smut. IDK why I'm so in my feelings about them.

“Not so fast, princess,” Han called, jogging after the diminutive woman determined to avoid him. Hardly an easy task, given their claustrophobic quarters underground. It certainly didn’t hurt that Han had a good foot over Leia—not that she’d ever let that stop her before. Leia didn’t acknowledge him at all. He knew what he’d find when he caught her, spinning her so fast the white dress she wore swirled about her ankles. Liquid brown eyes peered up at him, betraying her hurt for only a moment. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she demanded. “Shouldn’t you be robbing someone?”

“Hey,” he complained, putting a finger in her face to silence her. “I’m not robbing, I’m working.” “Same thing,” she scoffed. She tried to turn her back to him but Han caught her again, fingers enclosed around her slim arm.

“Hey! What do you want me to do, huh? I said I was sorry!”

“You almost got Luke killed with your little stunt,” she hissed, a reminder that she could be fiercer than any Jedi he might come across. Certainly more terrifying than Vadar, who Han hoped never to meet again.

“Luke and I were having a little harmless fun,” he reminded her. “It’s not my fault those Ewoks took it all too far. How was I supposed to know they’d string him up like meat?”

Leia scoffed again. “Leave it to you not to take any blame.” She tried to tug from his grip but Han held tight. He’d let her go only when she was kissing him, and even then he might keep her pinned in place. Leia was known for her sharp right hook and he wouldn’t put it past her to catch him upside the jaw in a lusty moment. “What do you want from me?”

“Why don’t you get on your hands and knees and beg for forgiveness? That would be a start,” she snapped. Han’s body tightened at the suggestion. They’d been picking up the pieces of the Empire for months with no reprieve, constantly surrounded by the resistance or Luke or Chewbacca…he hadn’t had a moment alone with her since right after the Death Star.

“Trust me, if I get on my hands and knees, I won’t be begging.”

Her eyes widened. For a woman as capable and terrifying, she sure could be naïve at times.  It did little to calm the lust now circulating in his veins.

“What will you be doing?” she demanded.

“Glad you asked,” he replied, reaching for her torso and hauling her over his shoulder.

“Han! Put me down right this second!”

He ignored her, walking quickly down the concrete bunkers. It was night…or he thought it was, anyway. No one would be up save for a few mouse droids. Even if they were, who would intervene? He bet against anyone helping the flailing woman at his back in favor of walking quickly to his bunk, a closest sized room with a bed hardly capable of holding his own body, let alone the pair of them.

He dropped her to the mattress, closing the door behind them. Her eyes narrowed. Dark, pretty hair fell in soft wisps about her face, making his usual perfect princess seem a little more undone. She knew exactly what he meant now, kneeling to the floor and parting her legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, running his hand down her calve.

“You’re supposed to be apologizing,” she reminded him, her voice dropping an octave.

“I’ll only apologize to you,” he retorted, pressing his mouth to the inside of her knee. “Take it or leave it.”

Besides, that incident with the Ewoks happened ages ago. Leia was looking for a reason to be man, still convinced he was going to take off one day. Han had no intention of leaving her—he was tied by a string, the end of which she held in her hand like a leash.

“Kiss me?” she whispered, her voice so soft, so vulnerable. Han often forgot that step in his rush to get to the more interesting places he might put his mouth. He knew asking had cost her and he was all too happy to remind her that he was still her ever obedient pet. If she said jump, Han only wanted to know how high.

His mouth found hers in the dark like two magnet made for nothing but touching. She was sweet, tasted of something sugary he’d never been able to place. It was so close to a jogan fruit pie and yet brighter, lovelier. He’d never be over the taste of her until the day he died.

Leia was perfection when she was fighting him. He’d never loved anything more than he loved her fiery defiance. She was so alive and Han would have died defending her right to yell at whoever she chose. But Leia like this was only for him. No one else got to see her take down those walls, got to feel the soft slide of her tongue in their mouth. She became a submissive creature here, eager for every clumsy touch of his hand.

He wasn’t used to wanting to please a woman the way he wanted to please her. Pleasure had always been for him first, and if the woman found any after well…that was merely a testament to his skills instead of any conscious effort. Han was aware Leia could have anyone.

Why not him?

He tried to slide back down her body but Leia caught him by the wrist. “What if it was me on my hands and knees?” she whispered softly.

“What do you want in exchange?” he asked, too aware of the price that came with this concession. He was so painfully hard from just a kiss he would have agreed to anything or even nothing at all. He suspected she knew it, though she didn’t gloat.

“No more dangerous stunts,” she murmured as she pulled the zipper of her dress off her neck. “You’re too cavalier with your own life.”

“Gotta live a little,” he lied, mouth drying out at the sight of her bared body, half obscured in the dark. He could have turned on a light to really look at her, but Leia was reaching for the button on his pants.

“I’d like to live longer than a few months with you,” she continued, her breath hot against his neck.

“I get it,” he lied with more bravado than he felt. “I’m gorgeous, where will you find another guy like me?”

She didn’t call him out. She merely stared up, her big, dark eyes framed with those thick lashes. Han groaned when her fingertips slid into his pants, tangling a hand in her hair for a messy, inelegant kiss. He liked everything about her. Loved everything about her, even. Han shucked off his vest and his shirt before he pushed her back to the bed. “No kneeling for you tonight,” he whispered, tripping out of his pants. Something on the shelf behind him clattered loudly to the floor, not that Han cared. As long as it wasn’t a loaded blaster pointed at his face, the whole room could come apart.

Han pulled her legs apart, lining himself up. Running a thumb through her cunt, Han couldn’t bit back the loud sigh. “You’re wet.”

“Do you want to write a song about it?” she retorted. He chuckled, slicking the head of his cock up and down her folds until she was practically panting, fingers reaching for his forearms without any luck.

"Han," she pleaded breathily, hips lifting.

“Say please,” he whispered, testing his luck. He was rewarded with the sweetest pair of doe eyes.

“Han, please—” he pushed himself into her before she could finish begging. Truthfully, all he needed was to hear her say his name the way she did, offering him absolution without even realizing what she was doing.

He had to hold himself still for a moment to keep himself from losing all semblance of control. She mewled like a domesticated loth cat. It was going to his head. Han surged forward, bracing is body on palms just beside her head. He killed her before sliding himself partway out of her. She was hot, tighter than a fist. She felt like a second skin, one he spent all his time thinking about when they weren’t together.

“It’s been too long,” he complained, pleased when she nodded, eyes finding his. His pleasure interested her—Leia was always watching everything, filing away his minute reactions for the next time. Han didn’t care if she painted him, so long as she kept rolling her hips in that maddening way.

He had to pull back, spreading her apart until her legs rested on his shoulders. Neither of them would be long for this world. Someday he’d have the time to draw her out, would possess the stamina not to be undone by a pair of pretty eyes. Until then, Han knew all he had to do was press the pad of his thumb against her clit and rub precise circles as he thrust.

“Come on sweetheart,” he whispered, hanging by a mere thread. “You take my cock so well with that pretty cunt of yours. Come for me.”

She whined, the rhythm of her hips faltering. She pulsed around him for a moment before tightening painfully, her hand clapping over her mouth to keep her from waking the whole base. Han was grateful, plummeting over the edge like a rocket. He could hardly breathe, lost in the floating bliss of her body and release.

He collapsed on top of her. “Get off me,” she hissed, poking him hard in the ribs. He adjusted, keeping his chest pressed to her own, face buried in the crook of her neck. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against the back of her ear.

She carded her fingers through his hair. “Let’s get out of here tomorrow. Take a little bit of time away. Just me and you.” “No work?”

She sighed. It was a promise he knew she couldn’t keep, at least entirely. “No work,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. It was a lie, they both knew it.

And still, for Han, it was enough.