Eventually, he's probably going to tease her about it, at least a little bit.  Right now isn't the moment for it.  He just didn't expect that, though now he thinks perhaps he shouldn't be so shocked. Princess or not, Leia has her wonderfully rough edges. She's the sort of leader who lives in the front lines, not commanding from the distance.  It makes sense. 

And he's feeling pretty damn smug about being able to overwhelm her so thoroughly.  If she wants to mark him, make no mistake-- for tonight (at least, and likely more than tonight), he's decidedly hers. 

He sets his hand on top of hers, rubs an idle line with his thumb. 

"You're one to talk."  Teasing, but there's a reverence in his tone that makes it not a joke at all. This would be a perfect moment to tell her something lovely, but words have never been Han's strong point.  So he hopes something of what he means is evident in his gaze when he meets her eyes, when he lets it sweep down the line of her body, softly curved but steel-strong.  

"Your turn," he breathes, reaching confidently for the fastening to her clothes.  Right now it's entirely unacceptable that there's skin he can't touch; he wants all of her.  Simple.  The complicated parts, the questions about the future-- those can wait until they get the ship fixed up. For now they can revel in this, being alternately generous and demanding with each other.