Look, you can't help wanting the things you want. Everything from that firstmoment in the cockpit til now has been testament to that. Three years of putting off leaving, too. Maybe it's a little bit symbolic; Leia tends to be so controlled, tying herself into neat knots for the sake of duty. He wants to unravel her wholly. Letting her hair down literally as well as figuratively. Or maybe it's simpler than that, maybe he's just been wondering for too long what it would be like. Leia wearing nothing but the dark waterfall of her hair and a smile.

He's mercifully still (or maybe cruelly, considering how much she was enjoying this) as she undoes it, rapt and wondering, not taking his eyes off her. It's a silly thing to be so focused on, with the heat of her against him, the expanse of her bare body, but he loves the sight of it, long locks tumbling out of their plaits.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice husky and low with desire, and then he leans up to kiss her again, greedy and eager, picking up where he left off between her thighs.