Early Morning

NC-17, for adults only!

by Catriona Snape

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his arm lazy and his hand warm against my side. I would move, but I don't. Maybe it's the warmth of his body under the covers, or the gentle dozing I don't want to break, almost too sweet for what I'm used to. I would get up before other people in the house and work, I would have gone to the Senate, or to lessons, or to the headquarters, for an early morning briefing- but these days were other times, and I suppose his presence here is concrete enough to remind me something has changed. Or maybe that something will change, in the future, and we were given these days to enjoy the little, all too brief luxuries of each other's presence.

He still smells like the grass around the greenhouse where we made love last evening. I smile against his shoulder in recollection, allowing our sleepy embrace to become tighter. He whispers something against my hair, his legs and his arms adjusting around my smaller frame in some kind of silent recognition. For a moment I think he fell asleep again, then, oh so slowly, I can feel his fingers moving against the bare skin of my lower back, creeping under my shirt.

"Leia..."

I purr his name with lips open on his neck, encouraging his caress as he reaches my shoulders and turns slowly towards my breast, taking his times as I do into the solitary, teasing exploration of his belly and his hips, unhurried and knowing, until I can feel his pulse quickening against my mouth. "Are you awake? This early, Admiral? Didn't my father order you to rest and--"

His mouth swallows my words furiously, breaking the gentle pace we were setting before. One hand cradles my head into the kiss as he rolls me on top of him, my fingers moving to the hem of the worn out light trousers still enclosing the warm skin of his hips, bedcovers slithering down my back, exposing it to the cool air of morning. Feverish hands undress me and we have to break the kiss not to have my shirt torn in their hasty moves. I open my eyes and I see him calm and aroused at the same time, the last sleepy haze abandoning his limbs but still present in the slight indecision in the paths of his otherwise predatory touch, his position making him even more languid, desirable. I straddle him, biting down rather ineffectively the thrill of feeling his hardness pressing through clothes into my core- his hands still on my hips, his eyes search mine, the flickering of an emotion raging for a moment behind the dilated black of the pupils, skin flushed in the dim light that precedes the sun.

"Leia." 

"Keith--"

Our voices die down into the silence of the morning. My hands move over his, guiding their heat from my own hips to drift toward my mouth, his fingers tormenting my sensitive skin, my nails shakily grazing his flesh. His fingertips are salty from sweat and on impulse I bite lightly, my tongue quickly kissing the bruised skin. "Keith", and I bow to his lips, freeing that hands that now are peeling my last garment away, suddenly committing themselves to tease the newly uncovered skin, adding feeling to feeling. Together, we manage somehow to get rid of his trousers, and I can savour again that wonderful skin-on-skin sensation, intimate and maddening like nothing else, something that makes us slow down again, to memorize every shade of the now-familiar sensation of our bodies joining, knowing all too well that times like this could never come again in months- because this freedom to be together regardless of time and privacy is, for the moment, a happy rarity. And then we begin to move, gaining confidence and forgetting but the immediate present of him in me and his kiss and his erratic caresses and the flesh under my fingers, and the pleasure burning it way from my sex, tension rising and building in our bodies until we lose track of anything but the lightening, blissful waves of climax.

Pleasure like energy strikes us mellow, and we just can roll on our side, sharing languid touches and drowsy whispers, his heaved breath teasing my skin through perspiration. I bare my neck for his lips, whispering his name for the ear near my mouth. Drowsy feeling regain my body through satisfaction as my hands slow down above his neck, fluttering against his heartbeat, into the quiet light of a new dawn.

disclaimer: I don't own Leia or Piett, George Lucas does.

The fine print (how small can I make this?)... and all the usual disclaimers!  No, I'm not making any money.  It's just for fun.  George, please don't sue me.