When her confidence is more than mere bravado, she won't mind teasing--but for now, his answer is the right one. For all her rough edges, for all her insistence on being treated like someone who can handle whatever's put before her, she's grateful for the tenderness in his manner. It's a fine line to walk, between care and cosseting, but Han does it.

He holds her like she's something precious--for herself, no less, not for anything she represents--and looks at her with those intent, hungry eyes. Under the weight of his gaze, everything beyond their embrace fades; hell, everything outside the spark of anticipation between her legs does.

She's about to kiss him when he speaks, reaching out for her, and for a moment she's too busy helping him get rid of her slacks to consider anything else. It's not much more dignified than his turn, and it's made all the more delicate an operation by the fact that there's no wall supporting her as she kicks the fabric onto the floor.

And then it's just the two of them, skin and silent appraisal. Leia doesn't expect to be found wanting, but that first moment or two is still one of held breaths. When she reaches out to run the backs of her fingers along the length of his cock, it's as much giving herself something to do as desire or curiosity.