alderaans | open post;

open post;

open post for pic prompts, starters, and texts. f/f + f/m for shipping.
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compatible through return of the jedi.

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[ It hasn't left her head that he'd intended for them to have a conversation, although she hadn't necessarily distinguished the one they're having now as being the same one he'd mentioned before, that this would involve any of the things he had apparently felt the need to bring up with any significance before leaving for a covert, relatively dangerous mission. And rather than wait for him to offer any kind of clarity, she'd chosen to jump in first, that tendency towards directness and assertion not always serving her well — and definitely not in this particular case.

But she also hasn't specifically picked up on the fact that he hadn't interrupted her this time, and anticipating that he'd have some kind of retort for her and not getting it had taken her somewhat by surprise. ]

You know I can't... [ Her voice trails off even more significantly when he reaches up to touch her, initiating that contact between them, and instinctively, she knows she shouldn't permit it, but something inside her doesn't protest strongly enough, doesn't move to nudge his hand away. She gets as far as opening her mouth to say something else before finding it completely, thoroughly occupied with his, and any other attempt at words is lost, a whimper snagging in her throat before she can stop it.

She's already reaching to touch him, arms sliding around to welcome him closer, one hand shoving fingers up and into the thick, dark curls of his hair, and truly, she has no hope of not responding now with anything but equal passion, equal need, lips parting against his in a blatant attempt to deepen the kiss too.

Everything she's been so staunchly denying herself rockets to the forefront of her awareness in an instant, and she's almost overwhelmed by it, by him, but she doesn't submit to it so much as refuse to shy away, doesn't yield so much as challenge. She won't simply stand here and let herself be kissed, not without giving as good as she's getting. ]

[ Poe could almost feel guilty for pulling her into this. Almost. Whatever else he might not be as certain of, he was sure that her resistance to this would crumble if she gave him half a chance to show her how he feels, and now that it's actually happening he's immediately, innately aware that there's even more to this than he could have anticipated. He knew that she isolated herself too much, he knew that sometimes she wanted to just throw all caution to the wind to accept his playful advances, even if she wouldn't allow herself to, but it was one thing to know that and another to feel how much passion she's pouring into that kiss in turn. They both wanted this, and they both needed this too, and it feels like he's been waiting for this for so long that it's settled in like a tangible ache now that it's actually happening and blowing any expectations he had out of the sky.

She's fierce, there's never been any doubt about that, just as much in this as she is with everything else, and it reminds him all over again of how decisively she's stolen his heart. Feeling her wind her arms around him, her fingers sinking into his hair as she pulls him in, and herself closer, is almost overwhelming for him too, so much so that he's barely aware of the soft groan that he's making into that kiss as he settles back on that smooth surface behind him, allowing her to slip between his legs to press up against him. It's much more convenient than trying to lean down toward her if he were standing.

He sorely wants to get his hands on her hair too, among other things, but even like this he knows that pulling it loose from the intricate braids and twists that she's pulled it into would be a particularly unforgivable sin, since at some point not long from now they'll have to walk out of here and act as if they weren't just kissing each other like it's the last time they'll have the chance.

Instead his hands settle on her hips, briefly, but holding them still quickly proves to be an impossible effort. They're roaming across her back before too long, as that first kiss melts into another — and another, possibly, it's easy for him to lose track of where one might technically end and another starts, all he knows is that he wants it more with every passing second, so much so that he's already flushed with a kind of heat that he hasn't felt... probably ever. He's kissed plenty of people in his life, but no one was like this. ]

[ If she knew of his guilt, even the slightest impression, she would find it imperative to stress to him in no uncertain terms that she has never felt manipulated, not for a single second; everything she's done with him, she's gone into it with both eyes fully open, and that includes right now, when she'd refused to settle for merely being kissed and firmly chooses to make it a moment of equal participation.

She won't allow herself to be towered over either, and as he leans back against the console and welcomes her between the wide stance of his legs she rises up on tiptoe, managing to close some more of the distance between them, but that also has the effect of bringing her body flush to his as she leans into him, fitting her own curves against his broadness. She's always subconsciously noted how much of him there is, how he somehow manages to fill out his uniform differently than all of the other pilots, but this is the first opportunity she's had to feel that unyielding muscle against her, and now she's helpless to imagine what it would be like if there weren't all these clothes between them.

She should stop this, she thinks distantly, as he wraps his arms around her more definitively, taking her further into his embrace, as one kiss turns into two and then three — perhaps it's just all one kiss because they haven't stopped since they started, savoring each other's mouths, finding a slow and intoxicating rhythm that almost steals her breath and would be enough to make her dizzy if she wasn't already leaning on him for necessary leverage.

Inevitably she is the first one to break the kiss, eyes still closed as she tilts her chin down so that her forehead nudges the edge of his jaw, and there she tries to catch her breath, to regain some sense of composure, and her response finally leaves her in closer to a low, husky whisper, but she hasn't slipped away or tried to leave his hold. ] I think you and I have two very different definitions of what talking involves.

[ Poe's aware that Leia's never seen him in anything less than his flight suit, and they're functional rather than flattering on the figure, which is a stark contrast to the dresses that she's worn on the rare formal occasion. Nothing too revealing, of course, but enough to give him a very vivid idea of what she might look like without any clothing at all, her hair draped over her shoulders and her back. And he has no doubt that she's thinking along similar lines as she presses herself into him, so close that even those layers aren't enough to entirely hide them from each other. It brings a new level of intensity to the way his lips move against hers, boldly sliding his tongue across and past them to taste more of her. But for every new sensation there's a growing heat and want for even more. More kisses, more touches, more exploration with both. He already knew he wanted this, but if he'd known the truth depths of that he probably wouldn't have held out this long before making a move.

Maybe it's better that he didn't, but it's a moot point now, either way.

He tilts his head to follow her at first when she breaks away from his mouth, a soft huff of something almost like frustration at being deprived escaping him before he checks himself, pulling his thoughts back together into some semblance of coherency. She's still wound up in his arms though and he's more than happy to keep her there, just holding her now even while the pounding of his pulse echoes in his own ears, and those desires swirl through his thoughts. It's the more emotional angle to it all that comes out in response to the way she's tucked in against him, struggling just as much to contain herself too. They both know that the logical thing to do would be to carefully disentangle themselves now before it goes too far, before they've spent too much time alone in a very conspicuous place.

But he doesn't want to. He wants so many different things, and none of them involve prying himself away from her. And he won't, not yet, as one of his hands slips to the back of her neck, his fingers stroking against the bare skin there with a careful touch, just brushing against her hair without taking any risks that might dislodge one of her braids. ]

Sometimes that works better than words. [ His voice is low too, it has to be, close against her ear as he goes on to press a light kiss just below it. Then there's a quiet, rough chuckle. ] Now imagine my definition of giving you my 'report.'

[ The teasing comes naturally, especially when right along with everything else he's feeling practically elated. He shouldn't let himself get too attached to it, he knows, this doesn't necessarily mean that anything's going to change, but...

He wants it to. And he knows that she does too. ]

[ She'd have to be blind not to notice how handsome Poe Dameron is — even from the beginning, it had been a thought she'd harbored in her mind however unconsciously from the moment they'd met, the moment he'd walked up with that gaze fixated on her and offered his hand. The problem was, at the time, she wasn't so sure he didn't know how good-looking he was too, chalked him up almost immediately as just another hotshot pilot who merely thought of any of the women — or men — he was with as challenges to be conquered rather than meaningful pursuits.

She's a little muddled by the time she forces herself to withdraw, purely out of a desire to not get too carried away rather than the exact opposite — even if she's convinced now more than ever that both of them would've rathered she'd just kept going. But she's conscious, however slightly, of the fact that there hasn't been too much in the way of telltale noises coming from this room, the lecture half the base is already expecting, and the longer the quiet stretches on the more suspicious it might become, especially if neither of them publicly leaves after a properly designated length of time.

Her eyes shutter closed again, not a tight squeeze but relaxed enough for lashes to gently brush, and it's almost impossible for her to repress a shiver when he presses his mouth to the spot beneath her earlobe, a place that seems to harbor incessantly more sensitivity now, in this moment, than it ever has for her before. ]

And I believe you said something before about offering it to me.

[ She knows full well what he's actually referring to, and for some reason she can't resist the temptation to go along with it, temporarily emboldened by her proximity to him and the fact that they're still mostly pressed against each other. ]

Though... I'm not so sure this would be the right place for it. [ Part of her can't believe she's even implying what she is, that she might actually be entertaining the idea, but she almost wants to say the words out loud before she can lose her nerve, before she can toss up the barrier between them again and retreat back to how it was before she knew how it felt to kiss him. ]

[ As much as he does want to get carried away, even if she were willing to go along with it Poe would have ultimately declined. If it were literally anyone else he might have found himself wrapped up with in some private corner he wouldn't have had the slightest hesitation in helping them find some relief from the heat they've worked up, maybe mutually, quick, rushed and quiet. He likes pushing his luck, as everyone on base already knows. He doesn't generally believe in putting too much pressure on first times, particularly when the nature of the Rebellion doesn't often lend itself to offering perfect situations for an ideal liaison. When interruptions can come at any moment, and they're always on high alert for any sign that they've been detected. They have to be ready to pack up and leave at a moment's notice.

But with Leia? He couldn't. She deserves his undivided attention for much longer than the few minutes they have in here. In the future maybe they'll find ways to slip in some intimacy now and again, if this is the start of something, but this shouldn't be rushed.

That doesn't mean he wants to let her go. They do have some time, and as long as she's in his arms he's going to use it to trail more kisses across her skin, down the side of her neck and back up the line if her throat. It's all gentle, so light that he won't leave even the faintest marks on her pale skin, despite an urge to do just the opposite. This is mostly about expressing how he feels, not seducing her, though the line between those two things is somewhat narrow and vague. He's not all that used to restraining these things, but then again, everything about this is different. From the fact that this isn't just a pleasant outlet to share with a friend to the inescapable awareness that this has solidified something he's already felt for a long time. ]

It's not. [ He agrees, murmuring against her skin, his hands sliding further down her thighs, stroking slowly over her without straying into even more sensitive places. Yet. There are so many ways he wants to touch her, especially once they have all these clothes out of the way. ] I can save it for later if you promise to take this up later in your quarters.

[ He has to return to her mouth for another lingering kiss before she can respond to that suggestion, as if he needed to remind her of what that felt like. Even those can't go too far off board, he knows, if they step out of here with swollen lips it would start a whole new round of talk. Not that he cares all that much, as long as it's just talk and no one can confirm anything, why should it matter?

But it matters to her. ]

I'll make sure that no one sees me. No more rumors that we don't already have.

[ She can't afford to get carried away, even if some small part of her had thrown caution to the wind for this long, long enough to let him kiss her and to respond with equal fervor; she has a reputation to uphold and she's certainly aware of his, which is where part of her reticence in pursuing anything at all has come from. Commander Dameron has made a name for himself as a phenomenally good pilot, but he's also left a string of broken hearts behind him at various Rebel bases scattered across the galaxy, and she'll be damned if she allows herself to become just another notch on his bedpost.

But in the same breath, somehow, she senses that this isn't the case here, that an empty and ultimately unsatisfying fling isn't what he's attempting to coax her into; it could be all a ruse, but she isn't entirely convinced of that, if such a thing can be deduced from the slow and implicative kisses he's currently trailing up the side of her neck and prompting her to tilt her head back for in order to further permit him access. And kisses are all he's limiting himself to, likely because anything more vigorous would leave marks behind that she wouldn't be able to adequately explain away.

Later. The word, innocuous as it might be out of context, takes on a wholly different meaning when he utters it like that, and she finds herself instantly swept up into another kiss before she can even think of an answer, his lips moving softly against hers as if to serve as a hint of what could potentially follow — both of them in her quarters, the room dimly-lit, his hands sliding over her and peeling clothes away from her body as they stagger towards her bed —

She finds herself at a loss for a moment before finally being able to summon any kind of response, though she refuses to leave him with the belief that his lips had anything to do with that. ]

You'll come? [ To her room, she says, without actually saying it; she wants the promise from him too, if she extends the invitation to him, that he'll actually show up, barring the sudden and inconvenient interruption that could rear its head in times such as this one. At least she knows that she can give the express order not to be disturbed aside from any potential emergency and that it will be followed, even tonight.

Though one eyebrow does arch when he says it in those particular terms. ] And what sort of rumors about us have your ears been privy to, Commander?

[ The fact that Leia even has to ask is almost enough to make Poe chuckle, not because it's particularly amusing, it's just impossible for him to know how she might think, even for a moment, that he would be anything less than determined to show up at her door as soon as he can possibly get away with it. But he won't. He knows that he's got a reputation for being a heart-breaker, and it would be hard to argue that it's undeserved, it's just not for the reasons that one might uncharitably assume. As quick as he is to throw himself at a challenge he's never considered hearts to be one of those, and if he's stumbling into a bunk with anyone it's never been to prop up his ego. Sure, it's not always because of some deep emotional connection either, but he's never tried to lead anyone on.

Regardless of his intentions, people get attached. It doesn't always end well, but that's not really the reason that those flings have been fewer and farther between during his time with the Rebellion, to the point where lately he's been sleeping alone despite having a few people who would have been happy to keep his bed warm without expecting anything more from him. Whether or not Leia's noticed, he has no idea.

He doubts that this would have made him feel any less breathless even if it hadn't been a while since he kissed anyone, not when he's wanted this more than anything for a long time now. If not for the warmth of her still tucked in close against him he might have suspected that this was some kind of dream. It feels a bit like one, but then she wouldn't have even asked if he was having such a vivid fantasy about this, would she?

Instead he's shaking his head slightly, smiling, before he presses another, even softer kiss to her lips. ]

The same things they say about me and anyone I smile at, Princess.

[ Since they're using titles and all. But as many times as he's teased her with 'your highness' with varying levels of defiance, this time there's only fondness in it. His heart feels like it's trying to race its way out of his chest, and he's finding it difficult to imagine what he's going to do until he can slip away to her quarters, which are so conveniently private and more comfortable than his own, comparatively. ]

As if anyone could stop me. I'll be there, as soon as I can.

[ He might even make it before she does, depending on how quickly she can conclude her own business for the day. ]

[ Of course, she's taken all of the circulating whispers about him with a few reservations — because she suspects that the real truth about any romantic entanglements he's entered into exist somewhere firmly on the line between rumor and harsh truth. She also suspects, more fleetingly, that any heartbreak he may or may not have incidentally caused was hardly the intention at the start — but in the months she's come to have a better sense of him, she thinks she could also start to understand why certain people find it almost impossible not to begin harboring deeper feelings. Such things are a natural result of the charm he effortlessly exudes — and the way he has of fixing the intensity of his gaze on someone until they no doubt feel like the sole arbiter of his attention.

But she'd made a point to not dwell on such things involving one of her best pilots a long time ago; who he chose to warm his bunk with was certainly not her concern and surely a waste of her time besides. That was how she justified it to herself, especially those times when she'd happen to glance over and notice yet another sensor ops officer making eyes at him during a briefing update, wondering why her first instinct was always to roll her own.

She permits the kiss, though, lets him drop it against her mouth almost like an afterthought without even allowing it to shift her expression all that much — aside from the way she yields, however subtly, to that gentle push of lips. ]

I'm not so sure I want to be thought of as just anyone. [ Not for him, especially, and the arch tone in her voice is also softened somewhat by the fact that she still hasn't vacated the circle of his embrace, is still keeping her face tipped up to his — right up until she finally breaks free. She immediately curbs the impulse to lift a hand to her hair to check that it's still secured in its pinnings, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her attempt to put herself to rights after that. ]

The door will be coded to your entry. [ There's more firmness in her reply now that she's beginning to reassert herself, even if her gaze lingers on his for an extra beat. If he does reach her quarters before she's free, he won't be left waiting around outside, which could run the risk of someone seeing him and asking exactly the wrong questions. ]

Edited 2020-09-10 19:56 (UTC)

[ There's a lot that Poe admires about Leia, from her relentless dedication to the Rebellion and everything it stands for to the way that she asserts herself even among much older and more experienced commanders, but few things make him feel quite as fond of her as the rare moments when those harsher edges soften, giving just a glimpse of the warm heart of someone who cares so much more than she typically allows anyone to know. But he does. Because he feels it too, and he's never worked all that hard to stifle it, even when it's landed him in trouble now and again. He's seen it in her eyes, that sometimes he says the things she wants to say but can't. She's responsible like that. Could he possibly benefit from following her example more often? Probably. But he also thinks that they could meet in the middle on that one.

At least with each other.

She's pulling away from him, decisively this time, and he lets her slip out of his arms, still reluctant but more willing to resign himself to letting her go for now, now that they've firmly established that this isn't over. He's accepted that, trusts her unquestionably just as she's trusting him to follow through, but it still feels surreal somehow. He's wanted to hear this from her for so long, wondered if it was even possible between them, and now that it's actually happening he almost doesn't know what to do with himself.

Obviously he has to start with straightening his own clothes, running a hand lightly through his hair to bring some order back to the dark curls that she ruffled slightly. But his attention lingers on her, and where she's putting her guard back up he seems completely unconcerned with his own. He's got another minute to look at her with the kind of open admiration that he has managed to largely keep to himself when they're not alone. He's been aware for a while that he's already in hopelessly over his head with how he feels about her, and he doesn't think that it's news to her. It shouldn't be, if she were any less guarded, any less intimidating in person, he's sure that she would have just as many admirers as he does, if not more.]

You could never be 'just anyone,' Leia.

[ Not to him, or anyone else who knows her at all. ]

I'll meet you there.

[ He has to know how something like that is going to linger on her mind as soon as he says it, that once she hears it out loud between them she'll be playing it over and over again even after she turns and leaves the situation room, that she'll be thoroughly distracted for the remainder of the day even as she attempts to focus through the rest of her mandatory meetings and conferences with the generals who want to give her various status updates and plans for moving forward post-mission. He has to know that she'll be flustered enough by the mere thought of where they'll be meeting by the time the clock ticks down to a certain hour and everyone takes their leave after the evening meal in the mess.

And yet somehow he makes himself scarce, perhaps purposefully with that in mind, either intentionally avoiding her so they don't cross paths until later or taking advantage of coincidental circumstances so that his notable absence makes her thoughts all the more inclined to wander.

She's almost too nervous to manage eating — although the flutter in her stomach can be attributed to a different sort of nerves, anticipation thrumming through every muscle in her body until she feels as though she's never been more aware of herself inhabiting the space, never been more conscious of the weight of her clothes against her skin, and perhaps even a part of her can still perceive the sensation of his lips on hers, because she catches herself running her fingers over her mouth several times throughout the day when she forgets herself enough.

And by the time she departs for her quarters, she can practically feel her heart ready to beat right out of her chest; she stops just before her door and draws in a steeling breath, mostly to check any remaining nerves here before she finally presses her hand against the pad that she had newly keyed to recognize one other apart from her own. The door slides open with a hiss and she walks inside, although there's no discernable evidence of his presence here that she can see; for a moment, she thinks she may have been the one to arrive early, and goes through the motions of removing her jacket, laying it over the back of the closest chair. ]

[ For once Poe has been doing his best to avoid crossing Leia's path. It wasn't difficult, the flurry of activity around their most recent victory and the tense atmosphere that inevitably follows one of their triumphs means that he has plenty to do to keep him otherwise preoccupied. Not that it does anything to get her off of his mind, every time he allows his thoughts to wander at all he's thinking of that stolen moment in the communications room, which feels even more surreal now that he's back out in the comparatively normal goings on of the base. It's no exaggeration to say that he's been counting down the minutes until he's able to disappear without anyone important feeling the need to track down his whereabouts for a while.

It's easier for him than it is for Leia, even though they both have a reputation for staying up late into the night and appearing early in the morning, people tend to make assumptions about what he's doing when he's not in his own bunk at night. It just so happens that those assumptions have been wrong lately.

Up until tonight, anyway.

He wasn't entirely sure of what to do with himself while waiting for Leia's arrival, especially with the anticipation winding up more with every passing second. If this wasn't such a significant thing he might have made himself comfortable on her bed, or helped himself to a shower while waiting, but that wasn't what he wanted her to walk in on, not this time. So after pacing for a while he eventually ends up settling in at the table toward the back of the room, where he imagines she sits up late reading through reports rather than sleeping like she should.

He was set on not ambushing her at the door either, though that's seriously tempting, but as soon as she's inside and sliding out of her jacket — he's shrugged out of his own, leaving everything else on — he does clear his throat as he slides to his feet. ]

Yours is a lot nicer than mine. These days I'm lucky if I'm not sharing space with two or three other pilots.

[ He's barely thinking about what he's saying, it's just the first words that come to mind. Because all he can think about now is how much he just wants to pick right back up where they left off. ]

[ She can be grateful, at least, for the distractions that enabled her to keep her mind off of the inevitable until there was no avoiding it anymore; part of her, though, feels like it may have been a dream, something her imagination conjured up as a product of her own anxieties, the worried state she'd been in and tried to not let on about manifesting itself in the fantasy of kisses, of a mouth hotly sliding against her own.

Reality disabuses her of that notion soon enough, because she turns — and almost as if she can sense a presence here in this room before she sees it, so she isn't even all that startled by movement in her periphery when he finally rises to his feet and she's turning to stare across the short distance that separates them. ]

Perks of the role, I suppose.

[ She's attempting a lighter joke in a levied tone, but it leaves her much more softly than she plans on when she notices him looking at her that way — the same way he'd looked right before he'd kissed her that first time — and the meaning of what they'd agreed on both meeting here for registers in her center with an awareness that she can't pretend she doesn't feel. ]

Were you waiting long?

[ For some reason, it suffuses her with a sense of satisfaction, a thrill that he might have been here a while, waiting for her to join him; she's only somewhat conscious of how she's already crossing the room to get closer to him, stopping once she's an arm's length away, her fingers running across the table as her gaze briefly drops to track the path her hand takes. ]

[ Poe hadn't given thought to the idea that there might be an awkwardness between them after all that, though maybe he should have at least considered it, but ultimately it turns out that those feelings come rushing back to him as if no time's passed at all. He's still so aware of how much admiration and respect he has for her, for everything that she's done and is still doing for the Rebellion, for the trust that she's put in him even when things have been tense between them. to say nothing of the much more personal emotions that have persisted and only gotten more and more difficult to ignore.

That's why this means so much to him, it's nothing like the casual flings that he's had before. That people expect of him.

He has to find a way to tell her that, even if she already knows, given her uncanny ability to see straight through him even on those rare occasions when he's keeping his thoughts to himself for a change. Yeah, he's definitely looking at her in a certain way, feeling his pulse suddenly kick up several notches as she moves toward him, her fingers trailing across the table as she goes. He's barely aware of what his hands are doing until his own fingertips are grazing across her jawline, crossing that last distance between them without hesitation. ]

Long enough.

[ He has the fleeting thought that he should probably get used to waiting, going forward from here, but he's not thinking about that yet. Not when she's here, and that anticipation is as high as it was before. He has been waiting a long time, he's not even sure when it occurred to him that he wanted this, but he's known for a while. But he's not immediately pulling her into another kiss, instead he's letting his fingers continue their path back to her hair, seeking out the pins that he knows must be keeping it coiled so perfectly. He's sure that pulling them free would set it all unraveling. ]

Haven't you?

[ It wouldn't be completely honest to say that she's nervous; there's anticipation for the moment itself, maybe, a shifted awareness that exists between them now that wasn't always there before — or it just didn't have anything that was so easily defined, nothing she could specifically point to and name until he'd finally kissed her. Whether she'd been denying it to herself up until now is another thing altogether, but extending the invitation to him to come to her room has all but erased her ability to claim any naivety. This is happening now, between them, even if there's still time and possibility for either of them to take it back or withdraw.

Somehow, she doesn't think he will, though, not when he reaches up to touch her and it manages to be both warmer and more gentle than when he'd done so in the briefing room. ]

I — [ She hesitates for a moment, giving genuine thought to his question, although the sensation of his fingers threading through her hair, loosing her braids from their carefully-wound and pinned placement, is making it difficult for her to do any deep pondering. Instinctively, she tilts her head into the sensation of it, first as the braids themselves slip free to drop against her shoulders, and then as they begin to unravel to leave the strands falling almost to her waist, the soft sound of pins pinging against the floor at their feet.

No one on base has ever seen her hair down, unless they come to her room in the middle of the night with a crucial report, but even then she takes care to wind it up, not leave it flowing down her back like this. ]

I... don't think I was so certain of what I was waiting for until now.

[ She knows Poe too well to expect him to back down from anything. It's one of his qualities that can work out in his favor, but also definitely one that could use some tempering at times, when he really should reassess before doubling down, and she's good at that. As much as they might disagree in tense moments, he's learned to admit that they're both better for influencing each other — and so is the Rebellion. This is different in some ways, this isn't a battle and it only involves the two of them and not an army, but the trust and respect that's grown between them means that it's not completely unfamiliar territory either. It's just more honest and intimate than they've allowed themselves to be before.

At least before this afternoon. That moment broke through the tension, which was probably inevitably leading to that point, because honestly? He knows Leia doesn't back down either, not when she's got her mind set on something. She's just more cautious about choosing her battles, once she has chosen one she's equally unflinching. And neither of them was ready to let this go, whether she was admitting it or not.

He's wondered before if it's uncomfortable having her hair bound up so tightly all the time, even if she's used to it, and much like her constant state of awareness and involvement with everything down to the day to day business of running a rebellion it seems that at the very least it unwinds some amount of tension when she's temporarily released from it. Once it's tumbling freely down her shoulders and back he's gently massaging his fingertips across her scalp, pairing that with a soft, slow kiss that's as much about affection as it is seduction. He can't deny that he wants her, but just being this open with her in a rare, quiet and private moment like this is something he's needed. That they've both needed, he thinks. ]

I could guess, but it might ruin the mood.

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happy may the 4th

<3 <3 <3