From a certain point of view Leia's more of a criminal than he is. Han is oddly offended when people call him small-time; meanwhile Leia is a real threat to the Empire. A wanted woman, which honestly doesn't hurt his wanting her a bit. And he does. It's something he's just come to admit because there's no other fix for it, he can't just get her out of his system. Maybe this fling, the quiet space they're carving out for themselves between here and Cloud City, will be enough. He doesn't think so. He kind of hopes it won't be enough, honestly, even if he still has to go.

"I'll make a list," he promises, taking a moment to admire the sight before he bends to press a handful of aimless kisses to her collarbone, her breast, back to her mouth, stroking her thigh as he settles himself between her legs. (Whatever this is, this fling, this affair between them, perhaps they can stretch it out long enough to share a proper bed at least once. She's not wrong about the surroundings, as much as he loves his ship.)

Savoring the kiss for a long moment, he pulls away to guide them together and then sets his mouth on her throat instead, eager to hear her respond.