“Follow me,” Jyn says, “and act like you belong here.”
Bodhi looks at Cassian with mild panic on his face; Cassian shrugs. He’s known Jyn long enough to know that there’s not much point to trying to stop her when she decides on a plan. It would be nice if she would share those plans more often before launching into them, but he’s gotten used to that, too. Mostly they work out.
She stalks up to the front desk like she’s been a paying guest of the Zeltron Pearl a thousand times before—as opposed to an agent of Alliance intelligence using a credit chip drawing on the account of a dead Imperial. Jyn is not tall, but the architectural heels she’s wearing somehow make her legs look endless. Her shirt is little more than a line of gold that extends between throat and waist, and her hair brushes her bare shoulders, long and loose as she almost never wears it. The line of her back is clean and strong.
The Bothan behind the desk looks a little overwhelmed, and Cassian doesn’t blame zir. Jyn’s sheer determination can be overwhelming, and he’s not even on the receiving end of it with the added weapons of her pale shoulders and cascade of hair and smoky eyes. Cassian reminds himself that Shara did them, and that Jyn swore a blue streak the whole time and threatened to curse the entire Bey lineage if Shara put that pencil even close to her eyeball. At one point Jyn insulted Shara’s mother in Yuuzhan, which he didn’t think anyone else on the base even knew.
Illicit transaction complete, Jyn nods at Cassian, who is doing a reasonably good job of acting like he belongs here, and at Bodhi, who is utterly failing. Cassian puts his hand on the small of Bodhi’s back, because on Zeltros the sight of a man guiding his wide-eyed lover to the room their joint lover has arranged is nothing remarkable. Jyn walks ahead of them. Cassian’s tongue remembers the exact taste and texture of the valley of her spine. Maybe Bodhi and the clerk aren’t the only ones who are a little overwhelmed.
Once inside the elevator, though, Jyn smiles at them like she always does, warm and familiar, when they’re close to completing a mission. Their current mission isn't nearly complete, but getting to the Zeltron Pearl is a major milepost. Their contact will arrive tomorrow; they can rest tonight.
Bodhi’s expression relaxes a little, and Cassian rubs gently with his thumb the way Bodhi likes. Bodhi sighs, and Jyn says, “Almost there.”
Upon walking inside the room, before absolutely anything else, they sweep it for surveillance. Cassian’s not expecting anything, particularly on a planet that has resisted the Empire through the power of pheromones, but that’s all the more reason to run the check. It comes up clean, though, and then all three of them can look around and laugh about the absurdly overdone accommodations that Jyn somehow got them into.
There’s a chandelier the approximate size of an A-wing hanging from the ceiling, and all the furniture is covered in gold-toned velour fabric. Cassian notes the lack of a bed at the same time Jyn pushes open one of the doors to reveal a separate bedroom containing a canopy bed with an ornately carved headboard—golden, of course—and pristine white sheets. Cassian is torn between disgust at the needless opulence and a desire to throw himself onto those sheets and sleep for approximately eighteen hours.
“Jyn,” Bodhi says, “what the kriff did you do?”
“This account’s going to disappear in two days,” she answers. “Might as well use it while we can.” She sits down on the bed, kicks off her complicated footwear, and sighs with relief. “Oh Force thank you, I thought my feet were going to split in half. Next time one of you gets to be the sexpot.” She strips off the top, revealing the sewn-in combat knife, and then stands to shuck the skirt, whose removal displays the blaster that’s strapped to her thigh. Visibly armed, she looks more like her usual self despite the fact that the only other thing she’s wearing is plain black underwear. She stretches, smiles, and flops back on the bed.
It really does look comfortable.
Cassian hates dress clothes less than Jyn does, but he will always feel more at home in his combat jacket and utility pants. Bodhi, surprisingly, cleans up the best of the three of them: he’s understated and elegant in a gray suit and cape. Still, he removes them with obvious relief, and he tucks himself against Jyn’s side and smiles. Cassian takes a moment to enjoy the sight of them lying there together content and mostly naked. He considers reminding Jyn to remove her blaster, but she’ll do it when she’s ready. “I could use a bath,” he says.
“I bet the ’fresher in here is amazing,” Bodhi says. “All the water you could want.” He is still, in many ways, a child of the desert.
The ’fresher is fucking huge, is what it is: you could bunk twenty people in here, easy. There are two sinks, each with a mirror framed in the same ostentatious style as the bed; two showers; and a bathtub that could probably get all of Rogue Squadron clean simultaneously.
“This is obscene,” Cassian says.
“This is awesome,” Jyn retorts. “I’m going to soak in that until I look like a dried shuura.” Bodhi doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t like to take sides—but he’s looking at the tub with obvious longing.
The tub isn’t like any Cassian has seen before: it’s sunken, with no raised edges or barriers, so that if you filled it all the way, the water would touch the floor tiles (and, if you overfilled it, flood the room). The controls look standard enough, though, and when Jyn crouches down to operate them, water flows exactly as you would expect.
She starts to take off her underwear but is obstructed by the blaster that’s still strapped to her thigh. She unfastens the holster and drops it on the floor, then steps into the tub. There’s only enough water so far to cover her feet, and she wiggles her toes. Bodhi follows her and leans back against the curved side of the opposite end of the tub.
“Well?” Jyn says to Cassian. “You were the one who wanted a bath.”
“The revolution is going to shoot us all for this,” he mutters.
“If anyone shoots us, it’ll be out of envy,” Bodhi says.
The water’s covering their thighs now. There’s a basket on Jyn’s end holding several small bottles, and she opens one and sniffs, then empties its purple contents into the water. The smell of chee-chees fills the air.
“I cannot meet an informant smelling like that,” Cassian says.
“You cannot have a good time, is what you can’t do,” Jyn says. “If you really feel strongly about it, I’m sure there’s some kind of very manly-smelling soap here that you can shower with before we leave tomorrow.”
“Speaking as someone who was at one point an informant, sort of,” Bodhi adds, “I don’t think they’ll be paying attention to what you smell like.”
Jyn draws her eyes slowly down Cassian’s body and then up again, pausing at approximately hip level in both directions. It makes him start to get hard; he can’t help it. “Come on, Andor,” she says. “Get naked.” The water’s just below her ribcage now, a little lower on Bodhi, whom she gently splashes with her foot.
His partners are both, apparently, closet sybarites. Cassian sighs and starts to unbutton his shirt. “You make it sound like we’re dragging you into a Hutt lair rather than a nice hot bath,” Bodhi says, eliciting a snort from Jyn. She watches avidly as Cassian undresses, and it just makes him harder. She knows it, too: her smile grows in response.
Cassian slides between them into the middle of the tub, and Jyn reaches for him immediately. She’s prickly and often the first to argue (when she isn’t, Cassian is), but she’s also usually the first to give and take affection (when she isn’t, Bodhi is, because he grew up with a family and parents and finds that sort of thing normal). Cassian goes, because arguing is clearly useless. He turns off the water once it’s a few inches from the edge.
They sit there silently for a while, enjoying the quiet and the lap of the water. Bodhi rubs Cassian’s thigh with his foot, whose arch Jyn massages, and Bodhi sighs with pleasure. Cassian feels himself start to drift off: the water and Jyn’s arms are warm around him, and her breasts and belly are soft against his back. He hasn’t slept in a while, and hasn’t slept well in even longer, and he feels it now. He hears what sounds like Bodhi washing his hair. Whatever he’s using has the same scent as the stuff Jyn poured into the water. Bodhi is definitely going to smell like chee-chees.
“Tilt your head forward,” Jyn says to Cassian, and he does. “Shut your eyes,” she instructs him, and pours water over his head. She leans forward and takes something from Bodhi, and Cassian hears a cap opening—yeah, he’s going to smell even more like berries. But he doesn’t protest as Jyn rubs the gel into his scalp and then rinses it out again.
There’s some shuffling around and a little bit of accidental splashing as Jyn and Bodhi move Cassian to their end of the tub. Bodhi lacks Jyn’s delicious softness, but his wiry strength is familiar and assuring. The movement wakes Cassian back up, and he watches Jyn wash her own hair, which is always a bit of a production due to its length: it takes a while to get the cleanser in and back out again, and then she prefers to condition it with something so that it won’t be hopelessly tangled when she combs it afterward. She doesn’t let either of them do the washing or conditioning for her: neither of them, Jyn says, ever does it right. She will sometimes let Bodhi comb her hair, because he had long hair himself for several years and knows how to do it without pulling it out of her head.
Tonight, after they’ve drained the water and dried off, Jyn hands the comb to Bodhi, and Cassian sprawls on the bed to watch. He doesn’t mind being excluded from this task, because the sight is a pleasure in itself. Bodhi’s careful, gently unsnarling the few knots that do appear, and Jyn sighs happily. When he’s done, she puts the comb on the bedside table, and Bodhi pulls the covers back. Cassian gets under them, followed by Bodhi and Jyn. It’s somewhat unusual for their quarters to contain a bed that will fit the three of them—and comfortably, at that. This, too, would likely fit all of Rogue Squadron, but Cassian is perfectly content with limiting its residents to the members currently present.
He thought he was tired, but Jyn pulls him into a fierce kiss, and he’s immediately, unmistakably awake. She twists a leg around his, and the sudden press brings everything into sharp relief: her bare breasts against his chest, the welcome of her cunt against his cock.
She leans over to kiss Bodhi too, and the angle is a little awkward, but neither of them seem to mind. Bodhi buries his fingers in her hair, draping it over both of them, and Cassian wishes he could make a holopic of that image and keep it with him forever. As things are, he’ll have to settle for remembering it for the rest of his life, whatever amount of time that might be.
Jyn shuffles over and installs herself on top of Bodhi, who sighs happily. Cassian takes that opportunity to bite a kiss at the top of Jyn’s spine and then follow it down with his tongue the way he’s wanted to since she put that dress on hours ago. She gasps, and he wants to keep going and lick her ass for a while, but it’s not something she likes very much, to Cassian’s great disappointment.
Bodhi’s arm flails in Cassian’s direction; Cassian catches it and sucks Bodhi’s index and middle fingers into his mouth. Bodhi inhales sudden and sharp, and his hand tightens probably involuntarily on Cassian’s face the way Cassian loves. He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until he opens them again to see that Jyn is up on her elbows, and Bodhi has raised his head to lick at her nipple. He’s using the point of his tongue, back and forth over the small raised pink circle, and Jyn’s hips are moving at the same pace. Cassian wonders whether she even knows that. He reaches over to tease her other nipple with his fingers, and she lets out a little moan. He thinks he can smell her wetness, but maybe that’s his imagination.
Cassian lets Bodhi’s fingers drop—Bodhi makes a small petulant noise—and says to Jyn, “One of us needs to eat you out. Which is it going to be?”
She laughs breathlessly. “Your call.”
Bodhi looks at Cassian, and Cassian says, “It was my idea.” Bodhi rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.
They move so that Bodhi’s leaning against the headboard, and Jyn’s leaning on Bodhi. Cassian kisses her navel, her hipbones, the freckles on her thighs, and then guides her legs over his shoulders so that his target is right in front of him. He blows gently on her clit; she mutters, “Asshole,” and he laughs. “I’m serious. Bodhi wouldn’t scrag around like this, would you, Bodhi?”
“Don’t good things come to those who wait?” Bodhi replies, and Cassian can hear the amusement in his voice.
“You’re an asshole too,” Jyn informs him, and then Cassian puts his mouth on her clit.
He kisses her clit and cunt for a while, listening to her moans, shuddering at the electricity that lights up his nerves when she pulls his hair. He holds her hips down when she starts to come, takes her clit between his lips, and she screams then, shaking apart in his arms and in Bodhi’s. Cassian kisses the delicate insides of her thighs, then looks up: she’s flushed and smiling, listing against Bodhi’s shoulder. “You want more?” Cassian asks.
“Mmm, no, that was good,” she says, and pulls him into a kiss. She likes tasting herself on him; Cassian isn’t sure why, but he’s not complaining.
“Hey, wait, I want some,” Bodhi says, and Cassian kisses him too, lets him lick the rest of Jyn’s orgasm from Cassian’s mouth. Bodhi wraps his hand around Cassian’s cock, and Cassian’s breath stutters.
Bodhi strokes him with gentle assurance, and Cassian finds himself almost hypnotized by the sight of Bodhi’s slender fingers surrounding his cock—moving up and down, pausing now and then to tease the glans or the slit. Out of habit, Cassian bites his lip against the sounds that want to escape, but Bodhi kisses him and says, “No, man, let us hear it,” and so Cassian does. Jyn curls around him, and one of her fingers, oiled with something he didn’t even see her reach for, rubs light rings on his ass. He gasps, and he doesn’t even mean to spread his legs, but he wants more, wants her fingers inside, wants them harder. He’s trapped between her touch and Bodhi’s, a trap he never wants to escape from.
Cassian does manage, though, to get his hand on Bodhi’s cock. Bodhi makes a pleased hum and leans forward to kiss Cassian again. He winds his free hand in Cassian’s hair and pulls, and the noise Cassian makes this time is closer to a whimper. “Yeah,” Jyn says, “you know he likes that.” It’s a little embarrassing to have his weakness known, but it also feels amazing. “We know what you want, Cassian,” she goes on. “You just have to ask for it.” One finger, then two, slides inside him, and his head tips back. He pushes against her fingers, but she moves so that he can’t quite get the friction he wants. “Just ask,” she repeats.
“You can do it,” Bodhi adds, encouraging. His touch hasn’t faltered. Cassian leans forward to put his weight on Bodhi, so that he can rest his head on Bodhi’s shoulder and not have to look him in the eye. “It’s OK if you can’t look at me when you say it,” Bodhi adds, because this is not Cassian’s first time with this trick, and Bodhi is actually quite smart.
Cassian feels himself flushing, but he’s been caught out. He raises his head and says, “Fuck me.”
“Yeah,” Bodhi breathes. No matter how many times Cassian says it, Bodhi reacts like he’s hearing it for the first time. “Yeah, of course.”
Bodhi likes to be on top, and Cassian likes that too, likes the expressions that cross Bodhi’s malleable face and the solidity of Bodhi’s body on top of his. Cassian pulls Bodhi down, and Bodhi goes willingly, falling between Cassian’s legs. Jyn hands something to Bodhi: a small bottle that must be the source of whatever she used to lubricate her fingers.
“Where did you get that?” Bodhi asks.
She shrugs. “It was in the nightstand.”
“I guess nice hotels really do have everything.”
Jyn snuggles up against Cassian’s side and kisses the point of his shoulder. Meanwhile, Bodhi opens the bottle, presumably to slick himself up, but Cassian says, “Let me do that,” and Bodhi doesn’t argue. Cassian pumps Bodhi’s cock in his hand, ostensibly to distribute the silky liquid, but also to jerk him slowly, sliding his foreskin up and down over the head of his cock. Bodhi makes an approving noise, and Cassian guides him right where he wants him.
Bodhi pushes inside, and Cassian arches up to take as much of him as possible. Bodhi leans forward, and Cassian opens his mouth for Bodhi’s kiss. Cassian’s hands are on Bodhi’s shoulders, except then his wrists are being grasped and pulled over his head, and he twists to get away, but he doesn’t actually want to. Bodhi’s going slow and deep, and Jyn’s grip is comfortable and certain. She’s pulled herself into a sitting position, and she gathers his wrists under one hand so that she can reach forward and touch him and Bodhi with the other. Cassian really could get free now—holding him down with one small hand, Jyn is exerting only the barest symbolic force—but this time he doesn’t even try.
Bodhi’s pace quickens as his arousal builds. Cassian brings his legs up around Bodhi’s hips, crossing his ankles against Bodhi’s ass to push him in farther, and murmurs, “Yeah, give it to me.” Bodhi lets out a desperate little noise, and his rhythm falters as his orgasm takes over and sends him into a series of hard, erratic thrusts until he stiffens and cries out. Jyn releases Cassian then, and he reaches up to run his fingers through Bodhi’s sweaty hair and kiss the unsteady breaths from his lips.
Bodhi’s not done, though. This time he’s the one to pin Cassian’s hands to the bed, and he takes Cassian’s cock into his mouth while Jyn plays his nipples with her tongue. All Cassian can feel, smell, see, taste is the two of them, and he comes fast and hard, so intense that for a moment he’s blind with it.
They lie together for a length of time that could be a minute or a year; then Jyn gets up and returns with warm, wet cloths for some rudimentary cleaning. Bodhi laughs and says, “I think we just made that bath kind of pointless.”
“That bath was amazing,” Jyn says. “We could have rolled in a mud pit afterwards and it still would have been worth it.”
She kisses Bodhi, then nestles against Cassian’s chest so that he can wrap an arm around her. Bodhi, for his part, stretches out along Cassian’s back: Bodhi’s shorter but likes to encircle him from behind despite that. Bodhi will stay there all night, but Jyn, nine times out of ten, will roll away into a tight ball later. Still, for now, it’s the perfect way to sleep. Bodhi rubs his nose against the back of Cassian’s neck, and Cassian kisses Jyn’s temple and the top of her head.
Once the lights are out, Jyn and Bodhi both drift off fairly quickly. Jyn marathon-sleeps if and when given the opportunity, and can fall asleep nearly anywhere, while Bodhi, whose life was relatively predictable prior to his defection, is accustomed to normal human circadian rhythms. Cassian, however, reliably has to spend at least an hour cataloging the sounds from every passerby, vehicle, and shift of the building before determining that all is normal and sleep is safe. Before Jyn and Bodhi came into his life, it was more like two hours, so he figures it’s some kind of improvement.
Jyn’s hair has fallen into her eyes, and Cassian wants to reach over and smooth it back from her face, but any touch will wake her, and he doesn’t want that. Bodhi’s arm is still slung over Cassian’s side, and his slow, even breathing brushes warmth over Cassian’s nape. Cassian times his breaths to Bodhi’s, and while it’s not enough to put him to sleep, it settles him into a sort of rest, here in bed with the people he loves.
Quiet, awake in the dark, he can admit it: he loves them, with a depth and ferocity that are among the only things in the galaxy to frighten him. He loves them, and he's pretty sure he'll never stop. Someday he’ll have the courage to say it out loud.