And put a few things in his ‘pantry’ at the place he was staying at. The rent was paid, he was about to make a little money for his day to day living expenses and the next job that he got? He could put towards repairing his speeder— the one valuable thing on this world he’d managed to claim for his own.
Han pounded what was left in the glass that he and Nat had split earlier. A shallow sip is taken from the next drink.
“You strike me as the kind of person that wants to be the one with the blaster in hand, while I do the tagging.”
She tipped her glass towards him, acknowledging the point with a succinct nod. "Tak ono i bylo," Natalia acquiesced, before tossing back to the rest of it in a single swallow. Good stuff, that.
But her lip curled just slightly when he mentioned blasters. Callous weapons, those. She reached beneath the table and withdrew her favorite toy, twirling it idly over her fingers before propping an elbow on the table and pointing it at him with a cheeky little grin.
"Blasters are just so...common." Even though she carried two--as well as a plethora of other weapons and arms--the blasters she only used whenever necessary. "Anyone can shoot someone," she told him, slowly waving the end of her baton, "but it takes skill to get close," green eyes glinted in the dim light, "and make your kill..."
Han, most definitely, has a different opinion about blasters than Natalia does. While being in a firefight made things like the strength and agility somewhat moot, there was still aspects of blaster combat that separated people who were good with firearms from bad— namely being able to think and react fast. Speed kills, in the cockpit and when the weapons come out, that’s the way this young man saw it ...
That said, he didn’t really feel like arguing the point with Nat. Maybe a little more so because she was pointing a very persuasive baton a couple of inches away from his face.
He raises up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, what I meant was, you seem like you’d rather be the aggressor than the one scrawling on buildings.”
Natalia smirked and in less than a heartbeat, the weapons had vanished back beneath the table. Everyone had their preferences, of course; she'd been very well trained to take advantage of the close kill, although she could definitely handle her own in a firefight.
"I'm not very artistic," she agreed with a small shrug. "I'll leave the scrawling to your ingenuity. You're the one getting paid for it, after all."
She lounged back in on the bench, lazing arms over her stomach. "I'll watch your back, though, handsome." Nat winked. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
He’s not offended by her smirk. She earned the right to be cocky. Nat was deadly with so many different weapons, most of the time, she could decided how she wanted to finish someone off. Han, meanwhile, was simply sticking to the thing that he had an aptitude for.
Besides, her smirk was pretty sexy. If he’s being perfectly honest.
“I appreciate that.” He says, reaching for another swig from his glass. “I’m not that easy to replace, after all.”
The droid creaked over with another round, and Natalia procured her own credit chit, saying, "My turn, handsome." She matched him drink for drink, well used to the bite of the liquor. She'd spent her time waiting for contacts in dismal dives, too.
"So what's after this job?" she inquired curiously. "It shouldn't take, what, more than two hours, three? What're you doing afterwards?" Glass dangling from her light grip, she swirled one finger around its wet rim, gazing at Solo across the table.
The answer was no. He had absolutely nothing going on after he’d made his easy money for the night. If anything, he might come back out and have a few drinks while trying to line up the next job. Or maybe worm his way into a seat at a sabacc table to pass the time— since he rarely had any spare cash to buy into a game. He wouldn’t call either of those things ‘plans’, though.
On the other hand, he didn’t want to sound like he never had anything going on when she asked, either.
“Well, I could be persuaded to have a night in, if you wanted.” He says, pausing to let her turn the idea of that around in her mind. “I think there are some fights happening across town, though. Might be fun to watch people get beat up for a while. Till the law comes around and breaks it up.”
Edited (Ugh, sorry about all the edits.) 2018-05-13 01:45 (UTC)
"A night in sounds...good, actually." How long had it been since she'd had several consecutive hours to just...do nothing? No mission, no objective, no goals not her own to achieve. Gods, it sounded downright idyllic.
Never mind that she'd have to check back in come sunrise, or by noon planet time tomorrow, but hell, that was hours from now, wasn't it?
"I'll even spring for supper," she offered with a sly little wink. "Provided there's even decent food around here."
“Are you kidding? The food is great around here. Best in the galaxy.”
Hard to say if Han actually believes that or if he just grew up on greasy food, but does it really matter? When that lopsided smile is spread over his lips. It’s not the food that they’re gonna remember about a quiet night in together. Of that, Han is certain.
Internally, he’s a little relieved that they’re gonna keep it low-key. He hadn’t forgotten about the night where going out joyriding ended up with a body count. This would give them the chance to see if there was more to their connection than hormones. They could talk. Get to know each other better.
He knocked back most of the new drink that had been brought by R5 and set the glass back down on the table.
"If you say so." Frankly, Natalia had her doubts. But, she was of a like mind that the food would be the last thing to recall come the morning. Nevertheless. She knew he hadn't forgotten their last foray; she'd been working, and he'd been a clever blanket to disguise her movements throughout the city, and despite her less-than-noble-intentions, she had enjoyed Solo's company, her work nonwithstanding.
Thankfully, her work on this planet was over now--although that could change at any moment, damnit--and she could take a little time for herself; a rarity, that. Besides, she liked this scoundrel. Probably a little more than she should, but that was no one's business but her own.
And the evening was wearing on, so she drained her glass and quirked him an eyebrow. "So, what are we waiting for?"
Han drains what’s left in his glass, punctuating the thought, and he rises from the table. While he’s standing there, he takes a moment to adjust his thigh holster and then, he begins his departure from the Blue Brezak. His chin tilted loftily so that, when he eyes are looking around the bar, he appears confident and unphased by everyone around him.
The confidence is only superficial, though. He was still trying to earn more of a reputation than he actually had and Nat had a way about making him feel especially uneasy.
“We gotta stop at my place.” He murmurs, when they get outside. “Need to pick up the suppies.”
Natalia followed Han outside, giving not a second thought to any gazes, unfriendly or otherwise, that might have followed their passage. But her lips quirked of their own accord as she watched her companion all but strut through the crowded cantina, but did well to keep her amusement contained.
She nodded assent to his direction once they stepped out into the coming night, and absently twirled a wayward curl around one finger. "All right. Lead on, then. I've got your back, handsome."
Someone in that cantina is trying to fake it till he makes it and it was very kind of his companion not to laugh at him while he was trying to do that. It would have undermined what he was trying to do almost completely.
“It’s not far.”
He assures her and then, assures himself that it’s going to be fine that she’ll see the run down apartment that he lives in. It’s not like she doesn’t already know that he’s just scraping by. Hell, she probably knew that before he’d mentioned running around vandalising buildings for a few hundred credits, but she surely knew after that.
She knew that and she was still around.
It’s a two block walk, then a turn down a particularly narrow, crooked (and dirty) alley. Han kicks some at some papers and assorted garbage in their path with his scuffed boots, a modest attempt to make the path to the door more pleasant for Nat.
“You can come up if you want or wait down here.”
In a age where nearly every door has biometric locks, the door to Solo’s place has a keypad to get into his building. That and he has to manually slide the hollinium door aside with good old fashioned arm strength.
Natalia Romanova was a top-tier assassin. She was perfectly content to allow her companion to soak up all the limelight; she had an inkling that he preferred it, anyway. Shadows and dark corners were where she felt the most at home. Unwary targets were the best targets.
If she picked up on Solo's nervousness, she didn't show it; simply followed where he led, moving with the natural grace of a true predator, although she was touched by his attempts to be chivalrous. But then, she'd spent time in worse places, so.
"Which would you rather me do?" was her question in response, not wanting to 'put him on the spot', so to speak. But she had to be honest, at least, and added, "I'd actually like to come up, if it's okay. It'd get lonesome, down here all by myself."
He begins, lamely, before he hears the part where she wants to come up to his place. There’s certainly an appeal to wanting to bring up beautiful company into the place he calls home ... except for the fact that his home is a bit of a dump. If had a nice place, it would have been an easy yes.
Instead, it’s a tentative “yeah, that’s fine.” He offered and she took him up on it. There wasn’t much further thought to put into it - and like he’d mused already - it was very unlikely that she was gonna be surprised that his place was a little shabby.
“I’m on the sixth floor.” He murmurs, beckoning her in with a tilt of his head. Shaggy hair tumbling in front of his eyes with the moment. He shuts the door behind her and then, begins to climb the stairs.
All right, she had to let her lips twist at that, but ducked her head, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Natalia slipped into the building behind Han, footsteps making little noise as she followed along. She wasn't a stranger to these sorts of residences; she'd set up shop in her share, waiting for a target or needing a place for control purposes.
"At least you're up off the street level," she mused in the dimness. "Not quite so noisy, I'd imagine." The stairs were barely lit, but she didn't have a problem keeping close on his heels. "How noisy are the neighbors?"
Han’s insecurity was largely due to his (lack of) wealth. If he was taking her to a beautiful penthouse in the heart of Coronet City, you can bet that he’d be feeling a lot more confident as he brought he up the stairs. He didn’t know much about the kind of things that impressed a woman, but a shabby building probably didn’t rank too high. Nor did he have any idea that Nat had spent plenty of time in buildings just like this — maybe that would have made him feel a bit better.
“It’s a short trip up the fire escape to the roof.” He says with a shrug.
The roof, in and of itself, isn’t all that impressive. It simply served as a place that Han could crack open a beer and watch the stars when the sky was clear.
When they get to six, Han guides her to his place, where they’ll find another keypad and a manual door. He holds it open for her to step though.
His apartment is in about the same condition as the rest of the building, though, not especially messy. He didn’t have a lot of things to leave around, after all. The sitting room is small, even with little in it. The kitchenette has a sink with a couple of dirty dishes and a faucet with a slow drip that hadn’t been fixed. His bedroom appears to be around a corner, just out of sight.
Easing around him when he gestured her inside, Natalia gazed about with a curious eye. The place looked about like she'd expected, honestly; a little bare, but all of the necessities were covered, at least. She stood in the middle of the room with a hand casually propped on a hip, but her lips were lightly curved and eyes quiet when she turned back to him.
"Homey," was all she said, giving him a soft little wink. "Not a bad place, really." She flicked up an eyebrow. "Dunno why you were so nervous about bringing me up here." Her lips quirked with the dry humor and she turned to meander through the rest of the sitting room, investigating the odd object here and there.
Finally, she inquired, "Do you need a hand hauling all of that stuff back downstairs?" Did they really have to do this job tonight?
“I don’t know.” Han shrugs and then gestures around the place. “It’s not the kind of place that impresses anybody.”
She is right that the basics are covered, though. And he’s able to make enough (barely) that he doesn’t have to share a place with anybody. That was kind of important to him. He liked having his own space.
Nat will note that most of the furniture was old and very likely, secondhand. There were very few trinkets to pick up and examine, to be honest. He had a data pad on a brushed metal coffee table, which doubled as a way to communicate with people and watch things on the holonet. A few print magazines devoted to tuning up starships and speeders. Decks of cards that were put away in their boxes as well as a few pairs of dice. The only decoration, if you could call it that, was one of those globes that looked like a blizzard when you shook it — his globe featured a Corellian ship hovering above an ice planet.
“A tee shirt and a can of spray paint?” He murmurs, cocking an eyebrow at her. “No. I think I can manage.”
He didn’t particularly want to leave his place now that they were both here and she didn’t reject him over it. He had accepted the money upfront, though. So he felt more obligated to complete the job than he would have if it was just an offer. Han doesn’t know what he sees in Nat, but he gets the sense that she really didn’t want to leave, either.
It definitely had a lived-in look, furnished with the sorts of objects she wasn't all that surprised to see. But Natalia wasn't crass enough to turn up her nose; it was what he had, and anything at all was better than nothing.
So she folded down to sit on the rickety couch, crossing her knees and stretching one arm over its back, idly twirling a wayward curl with her other hand. "Well," she pointed out, "I wasn't entirely sure how much paint you were going to need." But since it was only a single can, she intuited that this particular job might be small in nature and take only a small amount of time.
Which was her reasoning for adding, "Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'd rather stay here while you go earn your payday." A booted foot tapped idly. "I didn't book a room before arriving, and don't really want to bother with the hassle of doing it now." Stretching a bit, Natalia leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, gazing up at the pilot with a small smile.
"I'll even spring for dinner, have it here when you get back."
Han shifts his weight from the left foot to the right foot. His face is twisted into a thoughtful frown.
He’s fine with her offer and honestly, not all that worried about her taking something while he’s out. He doesn’t have anything worth her energy to steal — except maybe the data pad, but even that wasn’t a particularly expensive model. No. What the young Corellian has on his mind is ignoring the work he was payed to do entirely for spending a little more time with Natalia.
It’s not like he couldn’t find the time to put that paint up and pay back his would be bosses later. It would be easy ...
“I’ve got another idea.”
Solo parks himself onto the couch next to Nat. A mischievous glint in his eyes.
“How bout we stay in? You’re only on planet every so often. We should take advantage of that.”
He was a friend; she'd never steal from a friend. And indeed, there was nothing here she'd consider absconding with, anyway. A brief look of surprise crossed her face, however, when Han flopped down beside her on the small couch, and Natalia leaned back accommodatingly, curiosity piqued. She didn't miss that twinkle in those pretty eyes, and her lips quirked to his suggestion.
"We should, shouldn't we?" She shook her head with a rue chuckle; the scoundrel. "I don't have a problem staying in." She held up one finger. "As long as we get some sort of food in here. Something quick, edible, and delivered." Unabashed, Natalia reached over and tugged on the lapel of Han's jacket, pulling him to her as she slid towards him herself.
"We have better things to do than cook," she told him pointedly, brushing her lips over his.
As soon as he sees Nat’s reaction, he knows that he made the right call. Tonight they were going to enjoy each other’s company, hopefully repeatedly, and go to bed with full stomachs. In Han’s world, that made for a perfect evening ...
Han opens his mouth to make some sort of comment — in this case, it was going to be to tell her that it gets tricky to have something brought to this part of the city — but suddenly his body is being pulled into a kiss. His open lips find hers and he falls very easily into the exhilarating feeling that he get whenever he’s close to her. He scoots in. His hands, rough from childhood labor, scrape against the leather of her clothing.
The groan that forms in his throat is deeper than you’d expect from someone who still had such a boyish face. He tries to pull her into his lap, though he knows that he’ll only be successful with that if she’s willing to go along. His skin feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room and his heart feels like it’s pounding in his chest.
It only took her three seconds to divest the belt around her waist, weapons clattering briefly as it slid to the floor. Then Natalia was swinging a leg across Han's lap, settling easily astride him with a small roguish grin. Her dark chuckle echoed between them as her hands drifted down to yank at his own belt, tugging at the blaster holster and quipping lightly, "Might want to make sure the safety's on, huh?"
But she couldn't wait to kiss him again, pressing her body against his in a slow, sensual rhythm that had her own heart pounding and things low in her stomach beginning to ache and twist. "...put your hands on me," she demanded against Han's open mouth. "...anywhere, milovník, I don't care..." Her tactical suit, fit to form for ease of movement and sleek, felt abrasive to her skin, heavy; one small zipper at the back of the collar was its only release.
Undoing a thigh holster gets a person’s hand tantalizingly close to one’s crotch and Han makes no attempt to hide the fact that he is very interested in where Nat’s hands are. She might notice that he started getting hard the moment she jumped in his lap, too. The Corellian wannabe pilot isn’t a virgin, per se, but between this time and last time ... the Widow must have noticed there’s still a touch of shyness that comes from the fact that he’s inexperienced.
“Safety. Right.” He murmurs, in a hazy voice after taking a second to process what she’d said. His hands click over the safety so that she can remove the weapon and the belt however she wants, then he puts them to work. Unzipping that skin tight uniform of hers. His eyes feast on the skin as it’s revealed to him.
To sate her urge to be grabbed, Han puts his hands on her boobs. The callouses on his palms are almost impossibly hard for someone who was not quite twenty. At first it’s just pressure there. The heavy, roughness of his hands on some of her most sensitive skin and then, he squeezes.
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
no subject
And put a few things in his ‘pantry’ at the place he was staying at. The rent was paid, he was about to make a little money for his day to day living expenses and the next job that he got? He could put towards repairing his speeder— the one valuable thing on this world he’d managed to claim for his own.
Han pounded what was left in the glass that he and Nat had split earlier. A shallow sip is taken from the next drink.
“You strike me as the kind of person that wants to be the one with the blaster in hand, while I do the tagging.”
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But her lip curled just slightly when he mentioned blasters. Callous weapons, those. She reached beneath the table and withdrew her favorite toy, twirling it idly over her fingers before propping an elbow on the table and pointing it at him with a cheeky little grin.
"Blasters are just so...common." Even though she carried two--as well as a plethora of other weapons and arms--the blasters she only used whenever necessary. "Anyone can shoot someone," she told him, slowly waving the end of her baton, "but it takes skill to get close," green eyes glinted in the dim light, "and make your kill..."
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That said, he didn’t really feel like arguing the point with Nat. Maybe a little more so because she was pointing a very persuasive baton a couple of inches away from his face.
He raises up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, what I meant was, you seem like you’d rather be the aggressor than the one scrawling on buildings.”
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"I'm not very artistic," she agreed with a small shrug. "I'll leave the scrawling to your ingenuity. You're the one getting paid for it, after all."
She lounged back in on the bench, lazing arms over her stomach. "I'll watch your back, though, handsome." Nat winked. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
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Besides, her smirk was pretty sexy. If he’s being perfectly honest.
“I appreciate that.” He says, reaching for another swig from his glass. “I’m not that easy to replace, after all.”
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"So what's after this job?" she inquired curiously. "It shouldn't take, what, more than two hours, three? What're you doing afterwards?" Glass dangling from her light grip, she swirled one finger around its wet rim, gazing at Solo across the table.
"Any big plans for the rest of the night?"
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On the other hand, he didn’t want to sound like he never had anything going on when she asked, either.
“Well, I could be persuaded to have a night in, if you wanted.” He says, pausing to let her turn the idea of that around in her mind. “I think there are some fights happening across town, though. Might be fun to watch people get beat up for a while. Till the law comes around and breaks it up.”
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"A night in sounds...good, actually." How long had it been since she'd had several consecutive hours to just...do nothing? No mission, no objective, no goals not her own to achieve. Gods, it sounded downright idyllic.
Never mind that she'd have to check back in come sunrise, or by noon planet time tomorrow, but hell, that was hours from now, wasn't it?
"I'll even spring for supper," she offered with a sly little wink. "Provided there's even decent food around here."
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Hard to say if Han actually believes that or if he just grew up on greasy food, but does it really matter? When that lopsided smile is spread over his lips. It’s not the food that they’re gonna remember about a quiet night in together. Of that, Han is certain.
Internally, he’s a little relieved that they’re gonna keep it low-key. He hadn’t forgotten about the night where going out joyriding ended up with a body count. This would give them the chance to see if there was more to their connection than hormones. They could talk. Get to know each other better.
He knocked back most of the new drink that had been brought by R5 and set the glass back down on the table.
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Thankfully, her work on this planet was over now--although that could change at any moment, damnit--and she could take a little time for herself; a rarity, that. Besides, she liked this scoundrel. Probably a little more than she should, but that was no one's business but her own.
And the evening was wearing on, so she drained her glass and quirked him an eyebrow. "So, what are we waiting for?"
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Han drains what’s left in his glass, punctuating the thought, and he rises from the table. While he’s standing there, he takes a moment to adjust his thigh holster and then, he begins his departure from the Blue Brezak. His chin tilted loftily so that, when he eyes are looking around the bar, he appears confident and unphased by everyone around him.
The confidence is only superficial, though. He was still trying to earn more of a reputation than he actually had and Nat had a way about making him feel especially uneasy.
“We gotta stop at my place.” He murmurs, when they get outside. “Need to pick up the suppies.”
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She nodded assent to his direction once they stepped out into the coming night, and absently twirled a wayward curl around one finger. "All right. Lead on, then. I've got your back, handsome."
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“It’s not far.”
He assures her and then, assures himself that it’s going to be fine that she’ll see the run down apartment that he lives in. It’s not like she doesn’t already know that he’s just scraping by. Hell, she probably knew that before he’d mentioned running around vandalising buildings for a few hundred credits, but she surely knew after that.
She knew that and she was still around.
It’s a two block walk, then a turn down a particularly narrow, crooked (and dirty) alley. Han kicks some at some papers and assorted garbage in their path with his scuffed boots, a modest attempt to make the path to the door more pleasant for Nat.
“You can come up if you want or wait down here.”
In a age where nearly every door has biometric locks, the door to Solo’s place has a keypad to get into his building. That and he has to manually slide the hollinium door aside with good old fashioned arm strength.
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If she picked up on Solo's nervousness, she didn't show it; simply followed where he led, moving with the natural grace of a true predator, although she was touched by his attempts to be chivalrous. But then, she'd spent time in worse places, so.
"Which would you rather me do?" was her question in response, not wanting to 'put him on the spot', so to speak. But she had to be honest, at least, and added, "I'd actually like to come up, if it's okay. It'd get lonesome, down here all by myself."
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He begins, lamely, before he hears the part where she wants to come up to his place. There’s certainly an appeal to wanting to bring up beautiful company into the place he calls home ... except for the fact that his home is a bit of a dump. If had a nice place, it would have been an easy yes.
Instead, it’s a tentative “yeah, that’s fine.” He offered and she took him up on it. There wasn’t much further thought to put into it - and like he’d mused already - it was very unlikely that she was gonna be surprised that his place was a little shabby.
“I’m on the sixth floor.” He murmurs, beckoning her in with a tilt of his head. Shaggy hair tumbling in front of his eyes with the moment. He shuts the door behind her and then, begins to climb the stairs.
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"At least you're up off the street level," she mused in the dimness. "Not quite so noisy, I'd imagine." The stairs were barely lit, but she didn't have a problem keeping close on his heels. "How noisy are the neighbors?"
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“It’s a short trip up the fire escape to the roof.” He says with a shrug.
The roof, in and of itself, isn’t all that impressive. It simply served as a place that Han could crack open a beer and watch the stars when the sky was clear.
When they get to six, Han guides her to his place, where they’ll find another keypad and a manual door. He holds it open for her to step though.
His apartment is in about the same condition as the rest of the building, though, not especially messy. He didn’t have a lot of things to leave around, after all. The sitting room is small, even with little in it. The kitchenette has a sink with a couple of dirty dishes and a faucet with a slow drip that hadn’t been fixed. His bedroom appears to be around a corner, just out of sight.
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"Homey," was all she said, giving him a soft little wink. "Not a bad place, really." She flicked up an eyebrow. "Dunno why you were so nervous about bringing me up here." Her lips quirked with the dry humor and she turned to meander through the rest of the sitting room, investigating the odd object here and there.
Finally, she inquired, "Do you need a hand hauling all of that stuff back downstairs?" Did they really have to do this job tonight?
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She is right that the basics are covered, though. And he’s able to make enough (barely) that he doesn’t have to share a place with anybody. That was kind of important to him. He liked having his own space.
Nat will note that most of the furniture was old and very likely, secondhand. There were very few trinkets to pick up and examine, to be honest. He had a data pad on a brushed metal coffee table, which doubled as a way to communicate with people and watch things on the holonet. A few print magazines devoted to tuning up starships and speeders. Decks of cards that were put away in their boxes as well as a few pairs of dice. The only decoration, if you could call it that, was one of those globes that looked like a blizzard when you shook it — his globe featured a Corellian ship hovering above an ice planet.
“A tee shirt and a can of spray paint?” He murmurs, cocking an eyebrow at her. “No. I think I can manage.”
He didn’t particularly want to leave his place now that they were both here and she didn’t reject him over it. He had accepted the money upfront, though. So he felt more obligated to complete the job than he would have if it was just an offer. Han doesn’t know what he sees in Nat, but he gets the sense that she really didn’t want to leave, either.
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So she folded down to sit on the rickety couch, crossing her knees and stretching one arm over its back, idly twirling a wayward curl with her other hand. "Well," she pointed out, "I wasn't entirely sure how much paint you were going to need." But since it was only a single can, she intuited that this particular job might be small in nature and take only a small amount of time.
Which was her reasoning for adding, "Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'd rather stay here while you go earn your payday." A booted foot tapped idly. "I didn't book a room before arriving, and don't really want to bother with the hassle of doing it now." Stretching a bit, Natalia leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, gazing up at the pilot with a small smile.
"I'll even spring for dinner, have it here when you get back."
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He’s fine with her offer and honestly, not all that worried about her taking something while he’s out. He doesn’t have anything worth her energy to steal — except maybe the data pad, but even that wasn’t a particularly expensive model. No. What the young Corellian has on his mind is ignoring the work he was payed to do entirely for spending a little more time with Natalia.
It’s not like he couldn’t find the time to put that paint up and pay back his would be bosses later. It would be easy ...
“I’ve got another idea.”
Solo parks himself onto the couch next to Nat. A mischievous glint in his eyes.
“How bout we stay in? You’re only on planet every so often. We should take advantage of that.”
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"We should, shouldn't we?" She shook her head with a rue chuckle; the scoundrel. "I don't have a problem staying in." She held up one finger. "As long as we get some sort of food in here. Something quick, edible, and delivered." Unabashed, Natalia reached over and tugged on the lapel of Han's jacket, pulling him to her as she slid towards him herself.
"We have better things to do than cook," she told him pointedly, brushing her lips over his.
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Han opens his mouth to make some sort of comment — in this case, it was going to be to tell her that it gets tricky to have something brought to this part of the city — but suddenly his body is being pulled into a kiss. His open lips find hers and he falls very easily into the exhilarating feeling that he get whenever he’s close to her. He scoots in. His hands, rough from childhood labor, scrape against the leather of her clothing.
The groan that forms in his throat is deeper than you’d expect from someone who still had such a boyish face. He tries to pull her into his lap, though he knows that he’ll only be successful with that if she’s willing to go along. His skin feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room and his heart feels like it’s pounding in his chest.
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But she couldn't wait to kiss him again, pressing her body against his in a slow, sensual rhythm that had her own heart pounding and things low in her stomach beginning to ache and twist. "...put your hands on me," she demanded against Han's open mouth. "...anywhere, milovník, I don't care..." Her tactical suit, fit to form for ease of movement and sleek, felt abrasive to her skin, heavy; one small zipper at the back of the collar was its only release.
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“Safety. Right.” He murmurs, in a hazy voice after taking a second to process what she’d said. His hands click over the safety so that she can remove the weapon and the belt however she wants, then he puts them to work. Unzipping that skin tight uniform of hers. His eyes feast on the skin as it’s revealed to him.
To sate her urge to be grabbed, Han puts his hands on her boobs. The callouses on his palms are almost impossibly hard for someone who was not quite twenty. At first it’s just pressure there. The heavy, roughness of his hands on some of her most sensitive skin and then, he squeezes.
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<3
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i actually DIDN'T have to work a 12 hour day today, huzzah! ><
Re: i actually DIDN'T have to work a 12 hour day today, huzzah! ><
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