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cast some light & you'll be all right

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Cassian’s first time having sex with Jyn doesn’t go how he expects. It’s just after a mission when they’re both still riding high from dodging death by the skin of their teeth, and Cassian is laughing at something Jyn said—he can’t remember later what it was, just that it left him breathless and bright with affection—and she takes his hand and pulls him behind a large pile of stacked cargo containers.

He’s still laughing when she kisses him. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, but this isn’t the broken, desperate need in the turbolift on Scarif. This is Jyn pinning Cassian with her body and biting at his mouth, yanking at his clothes to find skin with a burning, insistent hunger that he’s only caught small flashes of before. This is the spark turned into a sudden blaze, and he’s left dazed, scrambling to catch up to her.

But when he tries to touch her, she bats his hands away and crowds in closer, nimble fingers undoing his belt while she scrapes her teeth against his neck and sucks a bruise there where he knows everyone will see. The thought is distracting, that she’s marking him and everyone will know—He bangs the back of his head against the durasteel behind him in his haste to give her more access to his throat, his hips jerking and blood rushing down to his cock so fast he’s dizzy.

“Jyn—” he gasps, trying to regain equilibrium while she pauses to tear her gloves off. But as soon as she touches him again, he’s unsteady, overwhelmed by how good it feels to have her blunt nails scratching their way down his chest to the waistband of his underwear. She makes quick work of pulling his cock out and wrapping her hand around him, rough and perfect. “Jyn, yes—”

She darts in and sucks on his bottom lip, messy and smiling as he clutches at her hips—she lets him hold her there, and a distant part of him worries about how hard his fingers are pressing against her. He feels hot, flushed all over, her fire burning into him and melting him down into a clumsy, needy thing.

He’s on a hair trigger already because it’s been a long time since he’s had anyone touch him like this, and it’s Jyn—his beautiful, fierce Jyn who he would follow anywhere, who he’s been dying to kiss, to touch, except that he’s kept all his pent-up desire compartmentalized until now, waiting for a sign from her. Now she’s sliced through the locks keeping it in and it crashes over him in a wave.

“Jyn, wait, I’m—” Cassian tries to warn her, but she just grins like a predator scenting blood and swallows the choked groan he makes when he comes far too soon, bucking helplessly into her fist.

She licks her hand clean and tucks him back into his pants when she’s wrung him dry, left him weak-kneed and panting and more than a little embarrassed.

He tries to pull her in, but she slips away and picks her gloves up from where she dropped them. She straightens her clothes and then levels him with a look, all heat and smugness. “Come on, Captain, we’re going to be late for the debrief.”

Poleaxed, he follows her lead.


It happens a few more times like that—Jyn barreling Cassian over and leaving him stunned and spent. She always changes the subject or darts out of reach when he tries to return the favor.

It’s good—Force, her hands and mouth on him feel so good—but it’s also not. Each time she pulls away from him, he’s bewildered and uneasy. He doesn’t feel good about it. But he isn’t sure how to bring it up without scaring her off. For a while, there doesn’t seem to be time—they jump from mission to mission and they’re exhausted in the interim. The nights when they fall into bed together are just them sleeping.

They’ve been sharing a bunk while on base since a little after Scarif. An early excuse was convenience—there’s always a limited number of quarters and Jyn didn’t want to share a room with a stranger. And both of them woke up from nightmares reaching out for each other.

Cassian’s grateful for the chance to hold Jyn and rest his palm over her heart during bad nights, undeniable proof of her survival beneath his hands when the ghosts of blaster fire whine in his ears and smoke curls heavy in his throat.

After an especially long, grueling mission, they’re given mandatory leave and told in no uncertain terms to take a break for a few days. The first day they spend it with the rest of the Rogue One crew and the members of Rogue Squadron who are on base.

Cassian feels listless without something to do, so he makes food in their kitchenette for everyone that evening while Bodhi wins spectacularly at sabacc against everyone except for Luke Skywalker, who is using his big, blue-eyed, wholesome farmboy charm to fluster the hell out of the cargo pilot.

Jyn wanders over between a round to grab another bottle of ale, and she surprises the hell out of Cassian by tugging him down by his collar to kiss him, warm and sweet. It’s the first time she’s done it without either of them coughing up blood or having her hand sneak down into his pants.

When she tries to pull away, he follows and slides a hand into her hair. Don’t run, he thinks when she opens her mouth up against his and lets him chase the soft, surprised sound she makes. It echoes in his head even hours later when everyone heads out, turning in for the night.

The parting glance Chirrut throws over his shoulder as he and Baze leave is way too knowing for Cassian’s comfort, but he gave up long ago trying to figure out how Chirrut knows things.

Bodhi is the last to depart, flashing Jyn and Cassian a sleepy, affectionate smile and kissing them both on the cheek, his dark eyes glazed over with drink and victory. Jyn laughs as she shoves him out the door—that laugh is still there when she turns back, and Cassian wants to taste it on his tongue, how she shines now with happiness.

Please, he thinks, his heart tripping over itself inside his chest, full up with longing.

But he falls back on that instinct to stay quiet and wait for her.


They clean up their quarters in relative silence, the comfort of routine blanketing over them. Beneath its cover, Cassian watches her out of the corners of his eyes and takes stock.

They’ve never been naked together, he thinks. Sex has always been fumbling in back alleys or empty corridors, half-clothed and quick. If he’s honest with himself, it’s never been what he really wants with her. He’s tried to take his cues from her so far, and she doesn’t seem to mind that she doesn’t get off, but he’s uneasy with the arrangement overall. It doesn’t feel balanced.

Cassian has had so little opportunity over the years to be gentle. He wants to be gentle with Jyn.

She comes out of the ‘fresher after having brushed her teeth and changed into sleep clothes to find him sitting on the side of the bed, still in his day clothes.

She goes very still under his gaze. “Everything all right?”

“Yes,” he says, but it’s unconvincing even to his own ears. He tries to arrange the words he wants to say into something that won’t put more wariness in her eyes, but nothing he weighs in his mouth feels correct. So he tables it and tries not to feel like a coward as he goes back into the routine.

Jyn doesn’t press the issue until they’re lying in bed. Usually, she sleeps with her back to him, but this time she rolls over and reaches out to take his hand in the dark. “Cassian, what is it?”

He’s still sifting through all of the things he could say, discarding them one by one until finally something tumbles out of him. “You kissed me differently today.”

Jyn’s hand in his twitches, betraying her impulse to jerk away. But she stays. A hint of defensiveness creeps into her voice. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

Cassian’s lips curve into a self-deprecating smile. This is ridiculous, he’s terrible at this, too practiced at keeping quiet when it comes to his feelings for her. Perhaps he should just put his cards on the table. “I don’t mind,” he says, and though he winces hearing himself, he pushes more words out, rapid-fire: “I want to kiss you like that more often. I want to make you feel good.”

It’s not the right thing to say, he can tell by the way the lines of her body tighten up like a wire pulled taut. But it’s too late to turn back, and he’s glad of it. He has to get a foothold to climb over the walls she’s built.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jyn says, but her hand is still in his. Cassian doesn’t move, doesn’t dare.

“In all the times you’ve fucked me,” he says, each word an effort, but he trusts the hope he can feel in his fingertips. “It’s always been fast and rough—”

“I’ve never gotten complaints before,” Jyn snaps, hackles raised, but Cassian clenches his jaw for a second and doesn’t rise to the bait.

“I’d just like to try something different,” he says, like it’s simple, what he wants. It sounds simple at the bottom line—he wants Jyn—but he wants her with all her prickliness and fire and the secret, soft underbelly she sometimes lets him see. “I’d like to kiss you for awhile.” It’s a start.

Cassian’s eyes have adjusted to the dark of their room enough for him to see her squint and look completely taken aback by the idea. He allows his thoughts to touch for a second on her history, if she’s ever had someone who asked for that. Her life has been a similar chaos to his. It’s not too much of a stretch to think that maybe no one did.

She doesn’t answer in words, instead crosses the distance and presses her mouth against his, firm and determined. But when he pulls her in close to settle into it, her breath rushes out with that same sound she made in the kitchenette. He wants to hear it again and again, wants to make her moan and cling to him, but he’s a patient man. He contents himself with sweeping his hands along her spine, sifting up through her hair.

He’s the only one who ever gets to see her with her hair out of the customary bun she wears, and the intimacy of that never fails to thrill him.

For awhile, it’s enough to kiss her open-mouthed and relish how she fits herself against him. He kisses her lips, her cheeks, her chin, then tries to see if her throat is as sensitive as his is—splays a hand along the back of her neck and nudges his way up to the space beneath her ear and then back down to her collarbone. There it is, that sound again. He hides his triumphant smile against her skin.

He can feel her nipples drawn tight beneath her shirt, but when he sneaks beneath her clothes, he smooths up along her ribs, his thumbs running feather-light along the sides of her breasts. Her back arches and she gasps, a sharp inhale, hips stuttering. He wonders about the heat of her, if she’s growing wet already between her legs.

And just like that, it’s all he can think about, his hands and his mouth there at her cunt. Patience gone, a groan rumbling in his chest, he starts to make his way down—

Her hand snaps out to circle around his wrist on a reflex. In the dim light, he looks up to see that her green eyes are very wide. He freezes where he is, hands still warm over her hips, about to push her shorts and underwear off.

“Not okay?” he asks, but she just looks startled, staring at him for a few silent, tense moments.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she finally asks flatly, and he has to duck his head to hide an involuntary laugh.

“Yes,” he admits. He wants to say a couple different things, you caught me or is it working, but she squirms a little beneath his grip, distracting him.

“You just said kissing,” she points out, threads of confusion weaving through the words.

“Yeah,” he allows, swallows back, I’d like to kiss you all over, and goes for blunt honesty instead. “But I’d like to eat you out, too.” He’s careful to keep his voice level. Calm. His mouth is watering at the thought of it, but something in her gaze has him sticking close to that instinct to be still and keep the full force of his desire tucked away. “If you’re okay with that.”

A pretty pink flush blooms along Jyn’s cheeks and chest, disappearing beneath her shirt. Her grip on Cassian’s wrist loosens, but he entwines his fingers with hers instead of going back to the skin he’s uncovered. She exhales, shaky. “No one—” She bites the words, jaw clenching a little as she looks away. “No one’s ever done that before.”

Ah. Cassian eases himself into a more familiar position at her side. He’s gratified when she squeezes his hand and lets him wrap his arm around her, cradling her back against his chest. “We don’t have to,” he murmurs, wanting to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, the fall of her hair. He wants so badly to do something to melt the sudden tension out of her.

Jyn presses the side of her face a little harder into the pillow like she wants to hide. “I don’t know that we have time.” Her voice is stilted, reluctant, and then, rushed like snapping a bone into place, she adds, “There was never time. I take forever to come so it was easier to not bother with me.”

Cassian clamps down hard on his initial reaction—thoughts about her former partners being selfish could be unfair of him and are mostly irrelevant. Those people aren’t here except in memory. But any intel is important. “Do you prefer that? Some people don’t want to be touched.”

Jyn’s shoulders curve inward and she shakes her head, but after a moment, adds very quietly, “I don’t know. I didn’t trust anyone back then.”

She rolls over to face Cassian, face twisted into a frown. She brushes her fingertips along his cheekbone down to his lips, the ghost of a kiss. Cassian studies how the dim light catches in her eyes like a decision beginning to grow.

“For what it’s worth,” he says. “I would very much like to make you feel good. And I’d like to make you come.” He can’t repress the anticipatory smile that spreads across his face. “We were told not to do any work for the next few days. I think we have plenty of time to get you there.”

Jyn runs her thumb along his bottom lip, but she still looks uncertain. She closes her eyes and her hand descends to rest against the side of his neck, tracing over the spots that always make him shiver.

“I’m not used to this,” she says. “But if you’re sure.”

Cassian cups the side of her face and leans in to kiss her like he has all the time in the world for it—don’t we? he thinks as he curls his tongue against hers, lush. Don’t we have time now?

She’s nervous, he can tell by the way she holds herself apart from him, but he’s pleased when she softens a little. He pulls away to kiss the tip of her nose. “I’ll check in again. You stop me at any point if you’re not comfortable.”

Jyn nods, and then tugs her shirt off and tosses it onto the floor. A laugh bubbles up out of Cassian at the look on her face—a defiant little challenge now: well, get on with it. He lets himself look at her, drinking in the sight of her lying there, half-naked against their sheets, but he doesn’t touch. Not yet.

“Can you tell me what you’d like first?” he asks, and he hopes she knows he’s not laughing at her. There’s a star burning behind his ribs, wrapping itself around his heart—he’s happy. He loves her. He can’t say it, but maybe she can sense it in him.

“You’re very frustrating,” she mutters, but there’s no heat, only a grumpy sort of affection that has him nipping playfully at her mouth. She growls and yanks his hand down to cup one of her breasts. “I want your hands on me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Without another word, he takes the invitation to map out this unexplored territory with his hands and lips and tongue and teeth. He takes his time, pays as much attention to each scar he uncovers as he does each place that draws forth a new sound from her—he catalogues every discovery, every treasure.

His own arousal builds in him, a steady flame heating up his blood, but it’s not difficult to ignore. The promise of Jyn letting him take her apart for once is more than enough.

Eventually, he gets his hands back to her hips and watches goosebumps prickle over her skin when he brushes his thumbs along the lines of her hip bones. He hooks his fingers in her waistband and presses his mouth to just below her belly button.

“Stars, Cassian, yes, take them off,” Jyn grits out before he can ask, hands clenching into fists in the sheets and her hips twitching restlessly. “And take your shirt off, too.”

He lets go of her to make short work of his shirt, careless—there are more important things to focus on, like how he can smell her already through her clothes, tantalizing, heady. He can’t resist cupping her through her shorts for a second just to feel if she’s soaked through the fabric. “Impatient,” he rumbles, pleased, when she grinds against the heel of his hand.

She stifles a curse when he moves away, deliberately teasing her. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He laughs and maneuvers her legs so that her heels are planted on the bed on either side of him. His stubble catches on the soft hair that covers her legs when he rubs his cheek against one of her knees. But for all that she gripes at him to just get on with it, when he brushes his fingertips high up along her inner thighs, her entire body jerks and she swipes at his hands in another reflex.

“Sorry,” she says, pinning his hands down on her skin to stop him from backing off. “Sensitive. Not used to someone touching me there.” She makes a face at the look he gives her. “Take my fucking pants off already, for Force’s sake.”

He stops teasing her after that, tries to not touch her too lightly after she moves his hands back on her thighs and lets her legs fall open around him.

He has never seen anything as breathtaking as her laid out before him like this. He has to take a second to savor the sight—his Jyn. Jyn with her unbound hair spilled across the pillow and her mouth swollen from kisses. Her mother’s kyber crystal rests in the hollow between her breasts. The marks he’s left upon her skin are littered among the patchwork of scars, the map of her history bare for him. His heart is caught in his throat. Home, he thinks, looking at her.

“What are you staring at,” she asks, something that would have been defensive or teasing under other circumstances, but her voice trembles and she sounds almost shy.

“You’re beautiful, Jyn,” he manages, and it’s there, it’s all there, his heartbeat inside those words to her, a gift he can’t regret. Home. “You’re so very beautiful.”

She surprises him by staying quiet—he expects her to laugh it off or to order him again to get on with it, but she doesn’t do anything except study his expression, searching. Whatever she sees makes the flush along her cheeks and chest deepen and spread.

“Come here,” she says finally, and he’s helpless at her command. She surges up to meet him and kiss him in a way that makes him think, maybe, just maybe...

But he can wait for her to say it. Right now, this is enough.

I want your hands on me, she’d said, so he smiles against her lips and swallows the whimper she makes when he runs his fingers down through the damp curls between her legs. He pauses for a moment to let her get used to the feel of someone else’s hand intent upon her cunt.

“Okay?” he asks, and she laughs—she laughs, a bright little secret, as she tells him yes.

“So wet,” he murmurs as he parts her folds and finds her entrance, slides one finger so easy inside of her. He kisses his way back down her body and gently rocks that finger inside her wet, yielding heat. He wants to see it, wants to watch the soft clutch of her body around his.

“Oh,” she sighs, throwing her head back and bearing down on him, giving so beautifully. He watches her fuck herself onto just that one finger for a while before he pets her hip with his free hand and adds another. She moans long and loud at the stretch, and he could die right here—dazed by how glorious she is like this.

He watches her body rise to meet the slide of his fingers, her hips jerking when he brushes his thumb over her clit. She gasps when he does it again and again, a sharp, bitten back whine that burns through him and leaves desperation in its wake.

He could fuck her just like this, one hand pressed against her stomach while she clenches down hard onto his fingers—but he shivers at how warm and wet she is around him and right now he has never wanted his mouth on someone more.

He promised he’d check in and ask her again. To take the edge off, he nuzzles into her inner thigh and sucks a bruise into the delicate skin there. She surges up in surprise, one of her hands knotting in his hair.

His name on her lips is a wild, broken sound, upturned into a question. He licks the mark he’s left, but can’t look up at her, his gaze drawn inexorably back to the deep red flush of her dripping cunt.

“Jyn,” he says, a wreck of need. “Can I—”

She tugs hard on his hair and his breath punches out of him, her slick so close to his lips he can already taste her. Please, he thinks, and it’s a litany in his head. Please, please, please.

“Yes please, Cassian,” she says, and it’s lightning down his spine, her pleading and scrambling to throw her legs over his shoulders. He pulls his fingers out of her to lift up under her and her mewl of complaint shatters when he finally, finally gets his face exactly where he wants it.

He falls into her like a starving man before a banquet, drunk on her taste and greedy for every single whimper that spills out of her mouth. He wanted to be gentle before, wanted to give her sweetness, but he’s too hungry now to tease her. Her slick smears sticky all over his cheeks and chin, his stubble leaving faint scratches against her trembling thighs. He moans into her over and over, lapping at her folds and drinking her in, shameless with want.

His cock is hard, but it’s a distant ache, nothing at all in the face of Jyn falling to pieces beneath him. A fine tremor runs through her, intensifying into a quake when he groans against her clit and slides two fingers right back into her and curls them up, up.

She folds up in on herself with a shriek, but her thighs tighten around his head and he stays steady, sucking her clit just a shade harder and finding a rhythm with his fingers that has her breaking apart fast, clenching down on him like a vice.

“Don’t stop,” she chokes out, “don’t—” It’s stars and shattered glass in her voice before he looks up from beneath his eyelashes and sees her clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. She pulses around him like a heartbeat and, Force, she’s fucking gorgeous, writhing with pleasure because of him.

She shivers with aftershocks when she slumps back down on the bed, pushing clumsily at his head to get him away from her swollen, oversensitive clit. When he starts to carefully draw his fingers out of her, she tightens and shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, panting, ragged. “Stay there. Feels good.”

He exhales against her and gently pushes back in. “You feel good, too.” He dares to dip his head back down to very softly kiss her labia and lick at where his fingers disappear into her slit. “You taste even better.”

She shudders and curses, but sifts a tired hand through his hair and doesn’t pull him away.

“Come up here,” she says once he’s satisfied, and the mood has drifted into a soft, syrupy warmth. He kisses the mound of her pubic bone in parting before he obeys her command, overjoyed when she curls up in his arms and licks the taste of herself from his mouth.

He pulls the covers back up over both of them and settles in. He’s still hard against the thigh she wedges between his legs, but he’s still determined to ignore it. “You good?” he asks Jyn because that’s all that matters. This was about her for once.

She laughs and nuzzles against his neck, biting at a spot beneath his chin. He shuts his eyes and tries—fails—not to grind against her.

“I was about to ask you,” she says, amused. She lays a hand on his stomach and traces the line of hair that disappears into his pants.

It’s his turn now to grasp her wrist and force her to pause. “I’m good,” he insists. “Either way. I’m good.”

“Either way,” she echoes, and the smile on her face is a sweet expression he’s never seen on her before and wants to keep close, tucked away from everyone else in the world. She shakes off his hand and dips her fingers beneath his waistband to run lightly along his cock.

“I’m picking a way, Cass,” she whispers, and he makes a tiny, undignified sound at the nickname. “I’d like to make you come, too.” Even better than her touch is the way she says, “I’ll go slow. Maybe we can come together this time.”

He makes sure they do.