He really does. She eases into it, slowly finding a rhythm that suits them both. Between the steady movement of his body and the warmth of his lips on her throat, the initial strangeness is transformed into something else. Something genuinely enjoyable, as much for the company as the sensation itself.

"Next time," Leia mumbles, her hand clenching in his hair when he angles his hips just right, "you're on your back."

What a tantalizing thought, that: there being a next time, one where their faces are shrouded from the rest of the galaxy by her dark hair. On a real bed, she'd consider pushing him over and trying it right now, but given the circumstances, she'd rather see this through.