If her hands weren't busy, she might mind the way he watches her without the slightest bit of movement. Balancing on her side at the edge of a bunk while unbraiding her hair is enough to keep her thoughts away from the fact that his fingers are just resting there, a little pressure and nothing more.

It's not exactly pretty when she finally shakes it all out--it would need brushing before it became a dark waterfall instead of a few wavy rivulets--but it's long and thick, and she lets it fall in the scant space between them.

And Han calls it perfect anyway, and it sounds so sweet on his tongue that she doesn't care if it's kindness or ignorance that makes him say it. (It can be prettier, that's the problem--I'll show him sometime.) She nips at his lip, and this time, she does reach down for his cock, her fingers wrapping around the base of it as her hips rock into his hand.