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Reclamation - Cassian x Reader (NSFW)

👰‍♀️Summary: After spending ages carefully constructing a plan to flee from your arranged wedding, it threatens to shatter at your feet. But a mysterious stranger named Cassian may offer a way out...and a deeper personal connection.

👰‍♀️Word count: 6.5k

👰‍♀️Genre & warnings: one shot. smut. strangers to lovers. descriptions of an abusive relationship. mentions of alcohol. reader is in a wedding dress. unprotected sex. some dirty talk. oral sex, reader receiving. use of a knife to cut clothes during sex. creampie.

The contact isn’t coming.

You figured as much over ten minutes ago yet still waited. Your hand is curled around your drink which has formed condensation along the rim, lazily rolling down the glass, colliding with your skin. You’re trying to keep your breathing steady but the nerves are buzzing in your head. The fear is growing, bubbling in your chest.

You need to leave now. If you manage to get off world tonight, you’ll be safe.

Yet you remain rooted to your stool at the cantina counter, staring ahead at the collection of bottles that line the wall. Some of them glimmer in the dim lighting, others give off a bioluminescence that is entrancing and not for human consumption. All of them offer the alluring promise of drinking enough and forgetting your problems.

But you need a clear head tonight, especially if your escape plan is turning to ash right in front of you.

It doesn’t help that the cantina, so quiet every other time you staked it out, is busier than usual tonight. That meant a lot of curious stares at the woman in ornate wedding garb.

You take a small sip of your drink, trying to figure out your next move. But your brain is stuck on the fact that your months of planning, all the sneaking around, the negotiations, finding a pilot willing to piss off one of the most powerful people on the planet, has gone to waste.

The guests will be entering the venue for the wedding now. How much time until they realize you fled? How long until your image is blasted on every port? An hour, two at the most.

The cantina is doused in a blue glow. A band is in the corner, playing softly. Unlike the loud and raucous cantinas that are in the hub of the entertainment district, this one offered a place for private conversation and the easy ability to abscond to the hotel above it. At the time of your planning, it made sense to use this cantina along with the hotel to escape. But now, you wish that there was a cacophony of noise and lights to get lost in.

“Would you like another?” The droid bartender slides over, tilting its head with a small click.

“No,” You mumble and it slides away without another word, going to the next patron.

There is a sense of movement next to your right side as someone sits in the stool. You glance in his direction only to find the man leering at you openly. Your grip tightens on your drink. Impossible they could find me already, you think, wondering how fast the glass could be smashed in his face if he made a move.

His mouth twists up cruelly when he opens it to speak. “Nice dress,” He drawls.

You don’t reply. The droid bartender returns to take his order. Something moves on the other side of you. A quick glance out of the corner of your eye shows a weary looking man, a loose fitting jacket hanging off him, a slightly scruffy beard and mussed up brown hair. He sticks out, just like you do.

He shows no interest in you, lost in thought. You discard the concern about him, instead focusing back on the man who is still gawking at your dress. You removed all the jewels that were laid upon a separate netting that was then placed over the dress, stashed as many as you could in a secret pocket you sewed in the inside of the skirt, and left the rest behind for some lucky person to find.

“Why you all dressed up and alone?” The man asks – he already reeks of alcohol and there is an energy to him that you mislike.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to realize your dress is traditional wedding garb of this area. With the intricately woven long sleeves that puff out a little around your wrists, down to the beading along the bodice depicting two waves coming together which was done painstakingly by hand, ending in plenty of billowing soft blue ruffles that swirled gently when you walked, the dress was beautiful – even more so when the net of jewels was slipped on over your head and laid against the entire length of fabric. There was a large headpiece that came with the dress as well; it was heavy and made your neck ache, dangling with sapphires. That had been ditched back in your quarters.

Since the planet was a seafaring one, the bride’s dress typically illustrated waves crashing together but not done in beading. Nor was the headpiece usually filled with sapphires. That was because you came from a family with a lot of credits – but not as much as your fiancé.

But this man is not only a distraction but possibly will attract more attention than you want. You needed to end the conversation and get out of here quickly.

“She’s not alone,” came a low voice, “She’s with me.”

Both the inebriated man and yourself look over in the direction the voice came from. It’s from the gruff looking man next to you, the one who showed no interest in anything but getting a drink. At some point, the droid bartender had given him a glass of something clear.

You may be sheltered but you aren’t naïve enough to think this gruff man is your savior. He could easily be hopping in just to rob you later. But between your narrow options, you’ll take your chances with him.

“That’s right,” You reply stiffly.

“Bullshit,” The drunk man growls, leaning forward so that a cloud of heavy booze wafts over, “She didn’t spare you a glance when you sat down.”

But if the gruff man is perturbed by the intensity the conversation is taken, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he tilts his face in your direction, looking up from his drink. You are struck by the depth in his brown eyes, so deep that one could get lost in it.

“Not that it’s any of your business but we’re in the middle of an argument,” You say swiftly, tearing your gaze away from him to shoot daggers at the drunken man.

“Which I didn’t start,” The man with the beautiful eyes replies curtly, “But you immediately jumped in with the ‘Cassian, how many times do I need to tell you that my mother is just like that’.”

You pick up quickly on the fact he’s told you his name in a manner that won’t attract attention, easier to pretend familiarity to get this drunk idiot out of here.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so dramatic.”

“Me, dramatic? You’re the one that took off for the closest cantina after lecturing me about being late. Now, we’re both going to be late. I hope you’re pleased.”

You purse your lips together in a motion of displeasure. “Maybe my mother was right about you. She warned me, the first moment we met, that you were trouble. And my life has been nothing but hell since you came into it.”

You can hear the drunken man shuffling off with an irritated sigh. Even so, you continue the fake argument with Cassian until he finally drops the act, his shoulders slumping forward as he resumes his earlier position.

“He’s gone,” He remarks.

You look over your shoulder, relief swooping through your body. You are silent for a minute or so while making sure the man truly left before looking back at Cassian.

“Thanks for your help.”

There is a quick glance from the corner of his eye before offering up a curt nod. The droid bartender circles back around. Cassian motions to send it off but you speak quickly.

“Let me buy you a drink as a thanks, at least.”

“It’s okay.”

“I insist.”

Cassian relents, taking a long swig of his drink to finish it off. He places the glass on the counter with a soft clink and orders. The droid bartender beeps and spins off to go make it. Cassian turns in the stool, his full attention now on you.

He’s handsome, you think out of the blue and then push the thought aside – talk about the worst time to notice such things. You’re supposed to be getting on a ship off planet right now and somehow you’re buying an attractive man a drink – damn it, you just did it again.

Handsome but tired, you amend. There are dark circles under his pretty brown eyes, and a heaviness that clings to his shoulders as if being weighed down by something invisible. His jacket is well worn, fraying at the edges of the sleeves. His hands are dotted with tiny scars, nails bitten to the quick.

Even though Cassian looks exhausted, there is a level of alertness in his eyes that shows that nothing is getting by him. He is aware of every movement, every person stepping into the cantina. This piques your curiosity. You wonder if he has a ship.

“Is Cassian your real name?” You ask, pushing your glass that is now mostly ice water away from you.

“It is. And yours?”

You give your name as the droid bartender returns with his drink. Cassian looks at your glass. “Surely, you’re going to have another. Not leaving me to drink alone?”

You hesitate, knowing time is short. But you are unsure where to go and there is a chance this stranger might have a ship to take you off world.

He picks up on your hesitation. “Somewhere to be?”

“I thought so. But it seems my transport fell through. So, I suppose I can have another drink.”

“Going off world?”

“Trying to.”

“Funny, I didn’t think it was tradition to hold the weddings off world.” His words make you freeze. Cassian motions to the droid, saying, “She’ll have another.”

At first you think that maybe your feeling had been right – Cassian does work for your fiancé and is toying with you before lugging you back to that monster. But he is still at ease, seemingly in no hurry. He catches your expression and waves his hand.

“I’m not here to make trouble. It was merely an observation. It isn’t any business of mine if you’re running out on your fiancé.”

“If that was true, then why step in and help me with that man?”

“Now that had nothing to do with your wedding dress. I was just helping a pretty lady out.”

The droid slides the new drink in front of you before buzzing off. You stare at Cassian incredulously. “Are you hitting on a woman on her wedding day?”

He gives a small shrug, bringing the glass to his lips. “I don’t see the fiancé around,” He remarks before taking a sip.

Your thighs clench, forcing your gaze away from this handsome stranger who knows you’re supposed to be at a wedding but instead sitting here. Logically, if he can tell you’re in wedding garb, so could others. Suspicions could be raised especially with a high profile wedding like yours. And meanwhile what are you concerned with? How attractive he is, how nice his brown eyes are, how strangely comforting of an aura he has.

Since your fiancé had been shoved into your life and the arranged marriage contract signed, every waking moment was about how to escape the chains that were threatening to bind you. The plotting and planning to escape left no room for dalliances. It wasn’t even something that was on your mind.

Yet here you are now, right at the most important moment of escape, and you’re getting sidetracked by Cassian.

You swirl the liquid in the glass slowly, thinking about how to word your next sentence. “You don’t look like you’re from here. How do you know what traditional wedding gowns look like?”

“And what makes you say I am not from here?”

“Your clothes, your posture, the way you’re hunched over your drink so no one will talk to you. We’re close to the port on top of that so a lot of travelers come in. But most of all, your voice. The accent…it isn’t native to here.”

Cassian studies you for a moment. There is a note of approval in his gaze. After a beat of silence, he replies, “I’m just passing through.”

“When are you leaving?” You can’t help but ask.

He leans forward, closer to you than ever. You can see the stubble that grazes his jawline, the depths of his dark eyes and how his hair curls slightly at the back of his neck. You swallow hard, wishing that this stranger hadn’t burst into your life tonight of all nights. Maybe if things were different, you would have been able to take him as a lover, a distraction, for a little bit. But not now…

In a whisper, Cassian goes, “Where are you looking to go?”

There is a hint of desperation in your reply. “Anywhere. But I need to go tonight.”

It is difficult to express vulnerability to a stranger in a cantina. There is always that risk, no matter how small, that he could turn you over to your powerful fiancé. There would be credits in it, after all, to return the bride to the clutches of the groom.

But the fact of the matter is your original plan might have fallen through due to your fiancé’s machinations, leaving you on less time than previously thought. On top of that, Cassian has not given you any mental alarm bells going off. This might be your only shot.

“They’ll be looking for you,” He murmurs, his pleasant expression not matching his words. This man is used to lying, you think. “Checking the ports tonight.”

“They’ll be checking them tomorrow too,” You counter.

“It’ll be worse tonight. They’ll be waiting for you to go off world.”

“How do you know?” You fire back, impatience creeping into your voice.

Cassian brings his drink to his lips, taking a small sip before replying. “I know you’re not getting married to a local farmer.”

There is a thud in your chest at the realization he knows who you are – this man passing through, this mysterious stranger who is good at play acting and has a ship – and if he is aware of who you are, there is no way other people in the cantina don’t.

Your voice is so quiet that you aren’t even sure if Cassian can hear the words. “Are you seriously suggesting I stay here tonight and leave tomorrow?”

“That’s right.”

Your fingers nervously run across the fabric of your dress. You did have a hotel room booked tonight only because originally it was going to be where the pilot was going to hand over a bag with your disguise and new ID card. But I won’t be getting that either.

A thought strikes you. “It can’t be here. If the pilot was compromised, he would turn over the room key.”

Cassian gives a small shake of his head. “No, not here. I have a room.”

Your hands flutter uselessly at your sides. Your nerves and panic are starting to impact your thinking. “How can I trust you?”

“You were going to trust the pilot and that wasn’t a sure bet either.”

“We’d been planning this. I don’t even know you.”

“Then stay here. But I have a room for tonight. We leave first thing in the morning. I can get you off world. I can’t tell you what planet we’re going to. All I can tell you is that it’ll be a lot safer than here.”

The entire conversation was in hurried whispers, bodies leaning together as if two asteroids are about to collide. You realize that Cassian did this intentionally. To anyone staring at the two of you, it looks like lovers making up from the earlier fight. It would be easy to lean into him, pretend you’re leaving the cantina to become intimate. He’s set up the story. It’s up to you if it is to be followed through.

Cassian continues quietly, “They’ll know you’re trying to leave tonight. Every port, every ship, will be searched. Come tomorrow morning, they’ll believe you stayed on world. They’ll tighten security here, start looking in hotels. That’s when we leave.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything. But we can say this wouldn’t be my first time smuggling something or someone off world.”

What are your other options? To wait to be discovered, hauled back to your fiancé, forced into a marriage you don’t want with a man who would only torment you? That meant risking it and going with the handsome stranger with the beautiful yet sorrowful eyes is your only option – your only shot at getting out of here.

You tentatively rest your hand on his knee. Cassian’s gaze flicks down to the sight before raising to meet your gaze. “Alright,” You murmur, “Let’s go.”

He takes a swig of his drink, finishing it and pushing the glass away from him. He then slides a few credits onto the bar top, slinking off the stool. He looks down at you and in that moment, you know that you’re risking your future to this stranger – while battling an intense attraction to him as well.

“Follow me,” Cassian says simply.

*

The sky has streaks of purple through it by the time you reach the hotel with Cassian. It is on the outskirts of the red light district which ended up working in your favour. No one questioned the way you leaned into the faded leather of Cassian’s jacket, the manner in which you’d tilt your head and giggle at something he said (which actually were just quiet directions on where to turn) or how his arm slinked around your waist and his hand rested lightly on your hip.

Admittedly, even given the tense situation that your brain was well aware of sitting in, you are still noticing the stubble along his jaw, his bitten fingernails, the way his hair curls slightly against the back of his neck – all things that aren’t important given the situation. But all the mental lecturing in the world doesn’t stop you from taking note of these things.

Finally, you arrive at the hotel. It is small and nondescript, crammed in between yet another cantina and a droid repair shop that is shuttered. It’s only three floors and looks like the sort of place that people would meet up to have an affair in. In other words, it’s perfect. Your fiancé believed you to be a fool which you took advantage of while plotting and planning your escape. Even now, he is probably confident of finding you at a luxury resort or stumbling into the space port. He wouldn’t believe that you would be someplace like this, simply because he would never go here himself.

The lobby is run down and empty. You wonder if the wedding party has realized you’ve given them the slip. By now, they must know, are probably searching the estate grounds for you, beginning to question the staff. Your fiancé is going to start searching the spaceports, if he hasn’t already, because he would assume you’re going off world. The original plan had it that you would be in hyperspace by the time they realized you weren’t at the wedding. To still be here, in the city, made your nerves jumpy.

Cassian takes you up to the third floor, walking down the hallway together. One light is burnt out, another flickers ominously. You can hear someone having sex in a room when you walk past and duck your face away from Cassian’s, feeling strangely embarrassed. Does he feel your attraction to him? He must find it absurd, given the situation.

He stops at the last room on the right, scans the key card and enters. The doors shut behind you and your eyes get adjusted to the low lights. The room is small, one bed in the centre, one window overlooking a shabby building. The walls are painted blue although the paint is chipping in spots. Blue, blue, everything is blue no matter where I go, you think while pressing one hand against the wave design on your gown.

You realize your arm is still entwined with Cassian’s. With warm cheeks, you separate, dropping the act of being his lover coming to the hotel. Cassian is already going to work, crossing the room and pulling a bag from underneath the bed, rummaging through it.

“We’ll leave tomorrow at the first sign of light. My ship has a smuggling compartment which you’ll use just in case we get boarded. But I have a fake ID and falsified ship logs. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What else are you smuggling?”

Cassian looks up, brushing some of his hair away from his eyes. He’s sizing you up, trying to figure out what to tell you, this strange woman in a wedding gown trying to escape her fiancé.

Finally, he settles on, “Some records.”

You slowly walk through the small space, heading towards the window, peering out of it. From here, you can just see the night sky, barely making out the stars. It is dotted with ships leaving and your heart swoops with longing to be safe among hyperspace.

“This is the right choice,” Cassian says gently from his spot near the bed, “I know it doesn’t feel like it. But this has the highest odds of success.”

“I was supposed to be off world by now,” You mumble wistfully.

“Well, you’re not,” He says bluntly, “But you’re alive and you’re not at the wedding. So, you haven’t lost yet.”

You look over your shoulder. Cassian is slipping a blaster from his holster onto the bedside table. His back is to you. His posture is different; he is no longer acting, no longer in a character. Who is this man? You wonder. He’s a good liar, clever, at ease with a blaster and quick to come up with a plan. He isn’t smuggling weapons or drugs but merely records. But you bite off any questions before speaking them. It’s better to know little. To learn more about him meant getting involved and if complications arose, that would be bad for you. Better to focus on yourself and only yourself.

When you turn back to look out the window, you realize the sky is emptying. The last few ships blink out like soft stars exhaling a final breath and nothing else remains.

“They’re shutting down the ports,” You say as your heart jolts, “They know I’m gone.”

Cassian’s voice is closer when he speaks next, eyes to the sky. “Grounding ships…” He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Your fiancé is a powerful man.”

Perhaps a tiny bit more powerful than originally thought. You didn’t think air travel would be cut off. Suddenly, you know that Cassian made the right call.

He senses your train of thought because he leans closer while saying, “This isn’t my first time doing this.”

You tilt your face in his direction. The heat from his body seeps into yours. You wish he wasn’t so attractive. Or maybe you wish to have met him in different circumstances so you could have taken this mysterious stranger as a lover and twiddled away the time sneaking from your fiancé with him.

“Swooping in to save someone from an arranged marriage?” You try to joke but the words come out a bit more fragile than intended. “Because her plan fell apart after so much scheming?”

Cassian’s eyes soften. “It happens to the best of plans. To dwell on what went wrong in the moment…does you no good.”

You like the way he looks at you. Is it because you’ve been looked at with distaste or indifference for so long or because he looks at you so gently? It’s difficult to know – the time with your fiancé and all the struggles you’ve gone through way heavily on you. There has been no time to be in the present moment. Every second is plotting, withstanding, scheming.

But there isn’t anything to do now besides wait for morning…and Cassian looks so inviting.

“Just feels like I never have any time to even dwell on things,” You reply, “I’m running from one plan to the next or one interaction to another, just trying to get through it with as much of myself intact as possible.”

It is the most vulnerable you’ve been with someone in a long time and it’s with a stranger. Maybe that’s why it’s easy. Cassian’s eyes grow distant. You wonder what he is thinking about, what memory is floating to the surface.

Your bodies are close now. Close enough that you could touch him. It’s alluring, the idea of tumbling into bed with him, because he’s here and he’s present and he has those pretty eyes that seem to be holding a similar pain to yours.

“Maybe dwelling in those precious few quiet moments isn’t what we should be focusing on,” Cassian finally says, “Taking those moments and making them our own is what matters.”

Maybe he’s right. Or perhaps you’re both lonely and looking for an excuse. Regardless, you’re not going to overthink or brood on it. Instead, your lips find his, pushing all thoughts of the wedding and escaping out of your mind. Cassian’s hands are on your waist immediately, angling your body towards his. You can feel the urgency in his kiss, the desire to blot out the past and the future – you can feel it because it’s in your lips as well.

The force of the kissing has you up against the wall a few moments later. Your hands are gripping his hair while his tongue is in your mouth. He tastes like the booze from the cantina and you cannot get enough of it. All the time and energy spent in fear and on schemes is wiped clean by the sensation of this stranger’s lips on yours and hands resting on your hips.

You’re tugging off Cassian’s jacket. It falls to the floor, already forgotten. He is fiddling with aspects of your dress but the urgency is growing by the second and the entire thing is too cumbersome to remove. You make an impatient noise in the back of your throat.

“Just forget it,” You say urgently, “Just keep it on.”

Cassian hoists you up onto the small table in the corner, pushing the chair out of the way. It clatters to the floor next to the jacket. His hands are running up along the gown, bunching the fabric in between his fingers as the two of you work together to bring it up around your waist. You’re wearing stockings with pearls running down the sides – more expensive pageantry to show off at the wedding, to deflect from the terror that resided in the bride’s heart.

The two of you are grappling for one another, swept up in the present moment and the relative safety of this run down hotel on the outskirts of town. Cassian’s hands glide up along your stockings, looking for the top so he can yank them down. But the band is buried underneath the layers of the dress.

“Just rip it,” You plead and he doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the stockings and tearing them. The seam splits and the pearls go flying, rolling across the floor and making a mess of things. You don’t even make a mental note to collect them later to sell for money; you’re simply too swept up in Cassian. The remains of the stockings fall off your legs as Cassian is unzipping his pants.

The wedding dress gets smushed in between your bodies as Cassian presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his length inside you. It’s been so long since you’ve been fucked but judging by Cassian’s impatience, it has been a while for him as well.

He grunts as his cock is engulfed by your warm walls. Your hands grip the edge of the table as he begins to rock his hips while you inhale sharply through gritted teeth at how good it feels to have his cock. After a minute or so of getting used to being inside your pussy, Cassian picks up the speed ever so slightly.

His hands are lost in the many layers of your gown. The delicate beading and pretty imagery isn’t made to be fucked in and you’re running the risk of ruining it. But you don’t care – there is something exciting about being fucked by a stranger in your wedding dress, an act of rebellion you didn’t know was possible.

Each thrust of Cassian’s hips rattles the table against the wall. You’d feel sorry for the neighbors if this wasn’t a hotel that basically existed to be fucked in. You urge Cassian to keep going, your legs bouncing every time he slams his cock in you.

“Is this what you thought your wedding day would be?” His voice is shattered, aching, lacing each word with lust, “Being fucked by a stranger in your pretty dress?”

“You can ruin the thing,” You say with a bitter note, “Just keep fucking me.”

“Gladly,” Cassian grunts.

He pulls out of you then which is the exact opposite of what you want. His cock is slick with your wetness as he helps you off the table and towards the bed. The dress is a bit cumbersome to move on, even more difficult to lay down in. Cassian removes his pants and boxers hastily before climbing onto the bed.

“W-wait,” You remember something with a jolt and Cassian stops immediately while you fumble along the side of the dress. Your fingers slip into the secret pocket and pull out a small switchblade, not wanting it to somehow accidentally hurt either of you.

“Turning your weapons over?” He asks in a slightly teasing voice.

You retrieve the gems from the pocket too, showing them in the palm of your hand before closing it. “Didn’t want to lose these either.” You slip the gems back into the secret pocket.

Cassian makes a noise although you can tell he isn’t interested in the gems nor the switchblade because he is too busy lowering himself in between your thighs. He’s lost among the billowing pieces that make up the bottom of the gown but you can feel his tongue along your skin, moving closer and closer to your pussy.

His tongue probes your slick folds before slowly tasting your hole. There is something dirty about having this man you barely know licking your pussy with the beautiful skirt of your wedding dress splayed out around him. You’re clutching the blanket of the bed while gasping as Cassian’s nose bumps softly against your clit. This lovely dress is not meant for obscene acts in this run down hotel. Your fiancé is tearing the space ports apart searching for you in a wicked frenzy to claim what he thinks he is and meanwhile your head is blissfully blank while Cassian brings the tip of his tongue flat against your swollen nub.

Cassian’s hands are on your thighs, spreading you open wide for him. All you can hear outside of your moans is the dress rustling and the obscene sound of him sucking and licking your clit. He slips a finger inside your wet hole, pumping it hard and fast while flicking his tongue over your clit. Your thighs shake from how good it is and then you’re cumming, losing yourself to the pleasure as Cassian gives one last hard suck on your sensitive clit before untangling himself from the dress.

His hair is a mess and he seems annoyed with his shirt which he pulls over the top of his head, exposing his fit chest and broad shoulders. Cassian doesn’t seem to care he is entirely naked while you’re in a wedding dress – in fact, you’re starting to suspect he’s getting off on it.

Your face is hot and you’re out of breath from the intense orgasm. He attempts to enter you but the dress is getting in the way and he makes an impatient noise. An idea strikes you, one of passion and throwing caution to the wind. You push the handle of the switchblade in his hand.

“Just cut through it,” You tell him, “I don’t care.”

Cassian looks at you with a glint in his eye. He grins quickly and the blade catches the blue light of the hotel room, blinking briefly like a star, before he takes it to the dress. The fabric is delicate and can’t withstand the force of the blade. In only a few seconds, layers of the gown are gone, laying across the bed and falling onto the floor.

There is something liberating about ruining the wedding dress. It is a signal to the universe that things are going to happen due to your own choices, not to survival. Allowing Cassian to cut the dress just to make it easier to fuck is something you decided because you wanted it.

It reignites your passion and you reach for Cassian as he puts the blade away and tosses it aside before propping himself up over your body. Your legs, now freed without the constraining fabric, wraps around his waist and pushes his cock inside you.

The beading of your dress is coming undone, spilling over the bodice and onto the bed. But neither of you care as Cassian slams his cock into you before lowering to press his body against yours. His lips are on your neck, up along your jaw until he finds your lips. His tongue is in your mouth, moans muffled between the two of you. Your hips lift to meet each thrust, taking his cock all the way to the hilt each time.

Gone are the worries of all the plots and plans. Gone is the concern of getting out of here and fear about the wedding. All that exists in the moment is the way Cassian is inside your pussy and the warmth that rolls across your skin.

Cassian’s fingers are on the top of the dress, tugging it down hard enough that a tearing noise fills the room. He exposes your breasts, bringing his mouth to one of your nipples and gently biting down on it. Moans are falling from your lips, urging him to keep going. He switches to the other nipple, swirling his tongue around it before straightening up. He grips your legs, resting your feet on his shoulders as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

You love how it feels to be fucked by him in your ruined dress and judging by the way his eyes roam across your body, he’s enjoying it just as much. Cassian leans forward a little, adjusting the angle of his cock before ramming it hard and fast in your wet hole. His hair has fallen in front of his face and he’s panting as both of your orgasms draw closer and closer.

Just to hear him talk in that sexy voice of his you like so much, you prompt, “You still like my dress after it’s been ruined?”

Cassian hisses sharply and his cock goes all the way to the hilt for a second or two before he pulls out. “I think I like it even more now. Better like this than walking down the aisle.”

You couldn’t agree more although your reply is lost by the next jerk of his hips which hits the sweet spot. Your fingers dig into the bed to hold onto something as Cassian’s thrusts grow erratic and messy.

“Cum around my cock,” He urges quietly, “Let me feel you tighten around me.”

Cassian fucks your cunt so hard and fast that each pump of his hips makes your body jolt. Your tits bounce, squeezed out by the bodice of the ruined wedding dress. This was not how you thought the night would go and definitely not how you thought the dress would end up.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Cassian continues, “Cum for me in your nice dress.”

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as your orgasm starts. It’s more intense than the first one and your walls clench around Cassian’s cock. He groans, giving one last thrust before unloading inside your pussy. Spilling out in your hole while you squeeze every drop from him, he moans again, going still. Together, you and this stranger finish.

After a few moments, Cassian gently rolls off you, trying to collect himself. You gingerly stretch out your legs, basking in the afterglow of fucking like that. You tilt your face in his direction. His eyes are closed, hair a mess, toned chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

Your eyes fall to the window, seeing a sliver of sky.

A small dot is going across it, tracing a steady arc towards the stars, signaling they are no longer keeping ships grounded.

You smile.

*

Your breathing is unsteady, your legs cramping from being bunched up in the smuggling compartment on Cassian’s ship. Even though ships are being allowed to depart off world, there is extra security and scanning being done. It had been tricky enough to get to the ship without drawing attention, wearing Cassian’s extra clothes that didn’t fit properly and a cloak tossed around your shoulders. Better not to risk it further.

You can hear the low hum of the engine idling but nothing else. It is difficult not knowing how it’s going. Your nerves are swimming in your stomach. You’re picturing getting caught, dragged back to your fiancé. You’re picturing something terrible happening to Cassian because he’s helping you. You rub the palms of your hands against the baggy pants but it doesn’t seem to help.

And then, when time seems to stretch into an eternity, bending and threatening to burst with your impatience, the engine grows louder, a roaring that you can feel across your body. Still, you remain crouched, knowing Cassian made it very clear not to leave the compartment until he came to get you.

Even though you hardly knew Cassian, it hadn’t entered your mind since sleeping together that he would turn you in. He gained nothing from it because he didn’t seem interested in any money. He carried a past within him, just like you did.

The rumbling of the engine changes; it shifts into the familiar sensation of hyperspace. A few seconds later, the door to the compartment opens and Cassian is peering down at you.

He grins.

“Just entered hyperspace.”

Relief bubbles up in your chest and you laugh. He reaches down for you, helping you out of the compartment. You could almost cry due to the intensity of emotions you’re experiencing.

Cassian, with his gentle brown eyes and tender expression on his face, asks, “What now?”

The question is a powerful one. Limitless with the universe at your fingertips. You aren’t sure how to show your appreciation to this man who helped you escape your wedding when the plan seemed to be in shambles.

“I don’t know,” You reply, unable to stop from laughing, “I guess…I guess whatever the hell I want.”

And Cassian laughs too, reveling in your personal freedom that he helped bring to fruition.

the end.