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I Want You Back (Cassian Andor x Reader) - NSFW

💬 Summary: When your ex-boyfriend, Cassian Andor, stumbles to your apartment wounded, it brings back not only memories of your time together but a promise of something starting anew.

💬 Word count: 12.7k

💬 Genre & warnings: one shot smut. fem pronouns for reader. exes to lovers. mentions of blood and injuries. drinking. dirty talk (a LOT of it). reader is called sweetheart a couple of times and slut once. oral sex, reader receiving. unprotected sex. creampie.

💬 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @violetwinters - (I’m not doing my usual tag list for this fic given it’s in a different fandom than usual, you can lemme know if you want to be added for any future Star Wars fics)

You stare at the door, holding your breath, waiting. I might’ve dreamt it, you think but the way your heart is racing makes you believe otherwise. Your blaster is cold in your hands, a grim reminder of what you might have to do. The only source of light is leaking through the shuttered window in the living area. Your entire apartment complex is cramped and indoors; only artificial light can enter here.

The knocking comes again. It is heavy, more of a thud. Your chest is like ice, your legs moving forward before your brain can stop it. Living on the outskirts of the galaxy your entire life, you know how to handle your own but that doesn’t mean you derive any pleasure from doing so.

Your finger hovers over the trigger as your free hand slams down on the button to open the door. It glides open soundlessly –

“Cassian?” You blink in shock at the sight of someone you never thought you’d see again in your doorway.

He is slumped against the doorframe, one hand underneath his jacket. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair stuck against his skin which has a sickly pallor. He looks as if he is crumbling underneath his own weight.

Cassian tries to smile but it looks forced and pained. “Did I wake you?”

“Uhm, yes. It’s the middle of the night,” You frown, whispering, “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit. Can I come in?”

Even though he looks like hell, you hesitate. Maybe it is selfish but the last thing you feel like dealing with currently is your ex-boyfriend showing up in your new life, bringing in who knows what sort of hell with him. You had spent so long trying to forget him after things went to shit and now to find him right outside your apartment…

Cassian moves his hand out of his jacket and you can see his fingers are smeared with blood. It dawns on you only then that he is injured. The sight of the blood kicks you into gear from years of training.

“Hurry up before someone sees you,” The words are gruff and unpleasant but Cassian doesn’t seem to notice nor care because he lurches forward on the final bit of energy he has and is over the threshold.

Cassian slumps forward and you catch him quickly before he can strike the floor. The door seals behind him as your blaster drops to the floor when you take on his weight. He is familiar yet different; the weight of him sturdier than in the past, his frame harder, more stubble on his chin than you’ve seen before. It is like looking at a painting through water and trying to make out all the individual bits of what makes it feel so personal.

You manage to get Cassian successfully to the living room before his legs give out. He is splayed on the couch at an awkward angle which you have no time to adjust because you’ve scurried off to find your med kit.

After you told Cassian that the relationship didn’t work, that the chaos burning inside him without an outlet proved to be too exhausting for you, your mind had drifted to him often in the weeks that followed. You wondered what his life was like without you around, wondered if he was happier without you and if he regretted how things went.

It took a long time to get over him. And now here he was, bleeding all over your cramped and small living room in the middle of the night with no explanation – including how he knew that you lived here.

Returning to Cassian, you motion to the jacket that he still has on. “Come on, I can’t see your injury with the jacket.”

Cassian has managed to right himself in the short time you ducked out of the room. He is slumped on the couch, his head rolled back, breathing labored.

Still, he shifts enough to shrug out of his jacket which you take gingerly, making a mental note at how it has seen better days. His black shirt is wet on one side, stuck against his skin. You sit next to him, a twinge of anxiety hitting your chest. Cassian’s eyes are closed, and the sight of this brings back a storm of old memories, none of which you want to linger on.

“Do I even want to know what injured you?” Your voice wavers a little, betraying your nerves. Cassian would normally pick up on such a thing if he weren’t in his current state.

“No,” is all he mumbles.

Tentatively, you reach for his shirt, carefully peeling it upwards to expose the wound. It’s a gash, sticky with oozing blood, dark red smeared all over his abdomen. It isn’t the sight of the wound that sends your stomach churning; you work at the local clinic and have seen similar injuries more times than you can count. It is the fact it is on Cassian that makes anxiety bloom in your chest.

“I don’t have any equipment here and I don’t have any bacta. I can try to get you to the clinic –”

“No,” He rasps out and his hand reaches for yours. His skin is hot, too hot, and you realize he is feverish. “Too dangerous. Do what you can here.”

“Too dangerous? Cassian, what exactly were you doing before you got here? How did you even know where I lived?”

But his head has rolled back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed, too weak to reply. Knowing that you would get no answers now, all you can do is go to work on the wound and hope for the best. Exhaling slowly, you study Cassian’s face for a moment, your chest constricting. You hadn’t ever allowed yourself to think about what it would be like to see him again.

Your time with Cassian was a flurry, the sort of passion and romance that normally didn’t apply to your life. But there was a wildness with Cassian that at the same time meant it was impossible to pin him down. He had no desire for cozy nights in, always on the move as if there were a target on his back, running from his past and sidelining his future. Eventually, it grew more exhausting to deal with that versus the passion, sex and love you felt for him.

But that didn’t erase history nor did it erase your feelings for him. As you work, your mind flashes through a set of memories: seeing Cassian when you were introduced to him, the expression on his face when first kissing you, the way he’d slink into the apartment in the dead of night after doing universe knows what, how he would storm out in the morning when the two of you would fight again, the sex that would follow, only for the cycle to start again. Cassian seemed empty and even your love couldn’t fill it – a hard lesson to learn and one that ultimately ended with you leaving.

And now…

Well, now, it is up to you to make sure your ex-boyfriend makes it through the night.

*

At some point after patching Cassian up to the best of your ability, you doze off next to him. The next time your eyes open, you aren’t sure what time it is and for a split second, you can’t remember how you ended up on the couch.

But the sight of Cassian brings the memories flooding back, the adrenaline hitting as if you just drank some caf. To your relief, his breathing has steadied. Gingerly, you reach out to touch his forehead. He’s still a little too warm but not as feverish as a few hours ago. Your fingers linger there and you gently push some of his hair off his forehead, studying his face. You wish that there wasn’t this tidal wave of emotions when looking at him, no feelings of fondness, no memories to contend with.

Cassian stirs and your hand flies back to your lap. You hope he didn’t catch your moment of tenderness because you aren’t sure that he would let you live it down. You’re the one that left me, you could hear him say and it sounds so real in your head that you can feel yourself withdrawing.

He shifts slightly as his eyes open groggily. You are busying yourself with the medical kit, getting ready to change the bandage on the wound, knowing that it is a serious injury and needs a lot of tending to. You are aware of Cassian’s eyes on your back, a sensation so familiar that it makes a shiver roll down your spine.

“How are you feeling?” You ask curtly.

“Like shit,” He mumbles.

“You still have a fever. Here, you need another round of medication.” The glass of water is still on the table and you turn to face Cassian, thrusting it at him.

He reaches out and the tips of his fingers brush against your skin. The touch, so minor it is nothing, knocks your insides apart, your heart banging like a gong in your chest.

“I don’t remember…” He takes a swig of the water, stopping to get the medication from you and then takes another gulp, “Don’t remember much.”

“You showed up bleeding all over my front door. I need to change your bandage now.”

“Is it bad?”

“Well, you’re doing a better now than last night so I think you’ll live but the wound can still get infected and your fever hasn’t diminished as much as I would like.”

For some reason, you cannot bring yourself to look at Cassian directly. On top of that, examining him while he’s basically unconscious is one thing. But having him awake and semi-alert as you do so makes you jittery. Gingerly, you reach out, raising up his shirt just enough to expose the bandaged wound. You’re trying not to think about all the times you held onto him here when he fucked you, trying not to remember how he sounded when he was –

“Like old times, huh?”

Your thoughts shatter, quickly flicking your gaze upwards at his face. He’s teasing me, you think half in wonder and half in frustration. You were hoping for more time before Cassian brought up the past even with a small sentence like that.

“You mean when I’d patch you up after a bar fight?” You look away, back to tending to the wound, gently peeling the bandage off.

Cassian winces as it tugs at his skin while going, “Always wanted someone who could patch me up for free.”

“Old habits die hard,” You reply wryly, examining the injury closely although you can feel his eyes on you, “You going to explain how you knew where I lived? Or what happened to injure you like this?”

It still looks bad, you muse, disliking the shiny tautness of the skin around the wound. If only you had some bacta gel…but there is none in your apartment, having used it all up on a small child who got injured in the complex two weeks ago.

There is a pause as Cassian considers what to say. You know he is debating lying because the tiny bits of himself he allows others to see are not given freely. You once had access but in the passing of the years, you don’t know what he feels comfortable with anymore. Cassian is good at gambling, drinking, burying his feelings in the search for fun, in the search for something to blot out the burning in his heart that seemed to spill out of him in a rage against the universe. You have no clue if that’s changed, how much he’s changed, but when your gaze shifts to meet his, the silence seems to grow longer.

“It’s better if you don’t know,” He settles on, a finality in his tone that brokers no further conversation.

You never heeded the tone before and you won’t now. “Are you mixed up in something bad? You piss someone off?”

“I told you, it’s safer if you don’t know.”

“No, you said it’s better if I don’t know. Now you’re telling me that it’s safer.”

You are examining the wound, fingers touching his bare skin, still wishing for bacta gel. You aren’t convinced it isn’t going to get infected by the look of it. Cassian is quiet again. There is something more withdrawn about him now than before although you chalk it up to the breakup.

When he doesn’t reply, you go, “I should really get you down to the clinic and do some proper work on this injury. You still have a fever and I can’t tell if the wound is getting infected. On top of that, it could heal slowly, possibly leave a scar.”

“No,” The word comes out harsh and fast, “No, I’ll stay here.”

Narrowing your eyes, you ask, “Why? Why can’t you come to the clinic?”

“I came here for discretion. Not to be paraded through the town square to the clinic.”

“No one is parading you around, Cassian,” You frown, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You can bring supplies from the clinic, can’t you? Or are there checkpoints? Will they question you about bringing things from the clinic?”

His tone is leaving you more confused than ever. There is an urgency and roughness to the questions that make you worry Cassian is in over his head although you can’t imagine what a security checkpoint would have to do with anything.

“Typically, no there aren’t checkpoints.”

“There might be today,” He says grimly, “I’ll wait for you.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” You demand yet again.

To your surprise, Cassian reaches out for your hand. He grips it tightly, sending a jolt through your skin that seems to sizzle. He is looking at you urgently and for a split second, you grow fearful that he has truly gotten in over his head.

“The less you know the better. Will you trust me on this? It’s for your safety.”

You want to argue that Cassian doesn’t get to decide what keeps you safe or not. But his eyes, those puppy dog eyes that have driven you around the bend more than once in both sex and arguments, brings you up short. Instead of fighting, you nod once indicating that the conversation is shelved…for now.

He relaxes, leaning back against the couch, eyes closing. His grip on your hand lessens, allowing you to go back to work on doing what you can to clean up the wound and change the bandages before you deem the work complete, standing up.

“I’ll head to the clinic now and come back as quickly as I can. I’m worried about infection settling in if I don’t get some bacta on it,” You grab your jacket, hurriedly getting ready, wondering how quickly you can make the trip.

Cassian says your name softly, drawing your attention. It is strange to see him on the couch; you never once thought that he would be in your new apartment. He has tugged his shirt back down, his skin still looking a little pale. For the first time it hits you that if he hadn’t come to your place last night, where would he have gone? It’s clear that he didn’t want to go to any sort of medical bay or even your clinic. If he wasn’t here, would he be dying in an alleyway somewhere? The thought leaves a bitter taste of fear in your mouth.

“Be careful,” is all he says before closing his eyes.

You give one last look at him and leave.

*

�� The walk to the clinic makes it immediately evident that there is something going on. There are imperial patrols on every street, the layer of fear across the city is like a thick cloak, and there are more security checkpoints than ever.

But how did Cassian know? The thought bangs around in your brain the entire walk to the clinic which takes double the amount of time it should. By the time you arrive, your nerves are on edge and you’re in no mood for small talk.

The clinic is quiet this late morning with just one medic on duty, patching up someone’s broken arm. The patient is complaining loudly when you enter.

“Asshole shoved me so hard that I toppled down the flight of stairs by the market. And did nothing about it, didn’t even stop to make sure I was okay! We get punished because some captives escaped?”

As you shrug out of your jacket and your coworker says hi, you say, “Who escaped?”

“You didn’t hear?” That patient’s tone is seething, “Where have you been all morning?”

“Asleep,” You reply curtly, not in the mood to bicker with a stranger, “I don’t work today, just forgot something here.”

Your coworker looks up from the man’s arm and explains, “Someone broke out that small group of rebels being held at the garrison up near the city entrance late last night. They were supposed to be transferred this morning but now they are just scattered to the wind.”

You are thankful that your back is to your coworker and the patient because your face is unable to mask the surprise as your stomach swoops.

Trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible, you reply, “We’re expected to believe just one person broke them out of the garrison?”

“Apparently.”

The patient makes a noise of disbelief. “No way the person survived. I heard they got him pretty good but he managed to limp out of there and they lost him in the city. He’s probably dying somewhere and they’ll find his body soon enough. He’s the reason these stormtroopers are all riled up, pushing people around and breaking my arm.”

“Please stay still so I can finish,” Your coworker sounds a little bitter, adding on, “Regardless of who broke them out, the rebels got away and now we have to deal with the repercussions.”

The blood rushing to your head is very loud. You take a steady breath, packing a few items in a small cloth bag and sneaking some more in the inside pockets of your jacket. If they know Cassian is wounded, these items might raise some red flags. You suddenly understand why Cassian couldn’t leave your apartment and why he told you to be careful.

“Alright, well, I got what I needed. Told myself I’d organize all my medical supplies at my place today and naturally I forgot some,” Your voice is casual as if the extra security and escaped rebels mean nothing to you.

“They’ll find the rebels soon enough. Where will they go without running into a blockade? I don’t think the person breaking them out had any sort of proper plan. Just wanted to stick it to the Empire.” The patient is still babbling and every word about Cassian is starting to make your clothing feel itchy against your skin.

Slipping your jacket back on, you smile blandly at your coworker. “I’ll be around more tomorrow.”

“Bye,” They reply, too focused on the fact the patient won’t keep still.

Leaving the room, you take a moment to collect yourself in the hallway. The idea of Cassian helping rebels escape, the same Cassian who seemed more likely to drink and gamble the night away, is a difficult one to wrap your head around. But there is no other explanation for him showing up injured on top of his secrecy.

You feel a flicker of anger in your chest that he has brought this situation upon you without your permission. You had been living quietly for all this time and now every moment with him around threatens to undo that. But what is the other option? Kicking him out to be caught by the Empire? No, you couldn’t do that, not to him of all people.

Exiting the building, you know that any strange expression on your face, any tension in your shoulders could spark a stormtrooper’s interest in you. Exhaling slowly, you try to keep your breathing steady as the walk home begins. You are hoping to look as nonchalant as possible, someone who is so used to imperial rule that you don’t really question the extra patrols or random security checks. A group of escaped rebels has nothing to do with you.

You are about five minutes from the apartment complex when a security checkpoint before the main entrance into the residential area pops into view. Cursing underneath your breath, you know that to turn around now would only catch their attention. The checkpoint hadn’t been there when you left.

Standing in line, you try to keep your face devoid of worry, coming up with your story about the medical supplies. They know Cassian is wounded. You think of the bacta gel hidden in your pockets. They’re going to question me.

When it is finally your turn, your heart is pounding and the palms of your hands are sweaty. Even so, you maintain an even tone when asked for your name.

One stormtrooper is running your credentials as another begins to search your bag.

“What do you need these for?” He asks, the helmet modulating his voice.

“I work at the clinic in the square,” You explain patiently, “I just keep some at home for emergencies and I like to replenish my supplies every few weeks.”

“Why?” He demands.

“Records are clean,” says the other stormtrooper.

“You never know when an emergency could hit. What if there is no possibility of getting to the clinic? All of us have our own kits in our places for times like that. We usually keep a small travel pack on us as well that needs replenishing.” You slip your hand into your inner jacket, pulling out the health kit from the pocket, hoping that it will be enough to stop them from poking around your pockets.

It is difficult to know what the stormtrooper is thinking as he studies the kit in the palm of your hand. You feel a little ill, unsure what to do if he wants to question you further. But the line behind you has grown as people are grumbling about the new checkpoint.

You want to keep talking but are aware that will only make you look as if there is something to hide. Remaining silent after your explanation, you wait.

“Records did say she works at the clinic,” The other stormtrooper remarks as if to prod things along.

Another moment passes. He’s not going to believe me, not with the timing –

“Fine, go.” He jerks his head towards the residential district.

You nod, making sure to keep the speed of your walk the same, putting your health kit back in your jacket. You can feel the stormtrooper’s gaze linger on you almost as if he regrets letting you pass. Something is tickling at his brain, some question he wants to ask, but it is obvious the other stormtrooper doesn’t see it as he does and wants to focus on the line forming instead.

Once you push past the doors, your shoulders slouch a little, your pace quickening. All you want to do is get back to your apartment. The fear that is hanging over the city today is much worse than usual. It is like the escape of the rebels is going to be made everyone’s problem.

The interior of the complex is flooded with the usual ugly, harsh lighting that your eyes have grown accustomed to. It has many floors, with the small apartments shoved close to one another to hold as many people as possible. The building is run down but overall clean. Every hallway is identical and it is a wonder Cassian stumbled around here and ended up at your place without being caught or reported.

You arrive at your apartment, stepping inside. You hear a familiar sound, immediately causing you to pull out the blaster hidden in one of your pockets, raising it –

Only to see it is Cassian with his own raised. He immediately relaxes upon seeing you.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You snap, your tension leaking out into your words as the door seals behind you.

“Had to make sure it was you.”

He is standing but his legs look wobbly. The entire trip couldn’t have taken more than an hour but he still doesn’t look well. Lowering the blaster, you hurry over to Cassian, ushering him back to the couch, plucking his own weapon from his hand.

Cassian slumps back onto the couch, wincing slightly as he sits, his hand going to his side. As you empty out the medical supplies, you cannot stop from biting out, “Were you going to tell me that you helped rebels escape? Or just bring this hell on me without any warning?”

Cassian is eyeing you carefully, weighing his words. You are frustrated, not only by the situation but this version of your ex that is brand new, doing things you never dreamt he could do.

Unable to stop yourself, the words tumble from your mouth. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear of it? Someone breaking out a bunch of rebels, getting wounded and losing stormtroopers in the city? Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? There was a checkpoint before the residential district and I think it was only my clean record that got me through because the stormtrooper didn’t seem entirely convinced I needed these supplies just to restock.” Your hands are shaking, you realize, as one of the bacta gels tumble out of your hand and lands loudly on the table. “You just show up here – I haven’t heard from you in years and you think it’s okay to just – fuck, Cassian, did you think at all of what this was going to bring down on me?”

The last sentence makes his eyes blaze, leaning forward, his voice hot. “You think I wanted to show up here in the middle of the night? That I didn’t consider other options? I had nowhere else to go that would offer safety and someone to make sure I didn’t die in the street!”

“How did you even know I lived here?! What are you wrapped up in that you’re not telling me?!” Your voice is too loud – dimly, you are aware that it should be softer but your agitation is clouding your brain.

Cassian grits his teeth, his hand going to his wound, momentarily thrown off by a burst of pain. You sit down next to him, pulling the medical kit into your lap while gesturing to him wildly.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean this out again. Properly this time,” You take a deep breath, lowering your voice, trying to collect yourself, “And as I do so, you’re going to explain everything going on.”

Cassian goes to pull his shirt off but when he lifts up his arm with the wounded side, he winces, inhaling sharply through his teeth. You reach out, helping him remove it, refusing to let your brain bring back memories of late nights involving the same motion for very different reasons.

Even so, the sight of Cassian shirtless leaves you briefly flustered and then surprised at the various markings along his arm, some along his abdomen that you hadn’t noticed in the hustle and bustle of tending to the injury prior. A lot of injuries, a lot of scars, a lot of stories here that started after I left. Who is this man in front of you? It no longer feels like your ex at all.

He is looking at you steadily, watching your expression change as you take in the sight of him before he finally says, “You already know the answer to everything you’re wondering.”

“Do you know how dangerous it is?”

“I do.”

“You’re lucky that you didn’t die last night. To break into the garrison like that and come out alive…”

“Because of you,” He shifts slightly, just enough so that he is angled towards you. “I had no plans to see you. I just knew your location as a final emergency plan. I didn’t think I’d use it.”

You want to ask more – how Cassian got swept up in working for the rebellion, why he did so, how much danger is he in regularly – but all the questions seem pointless. Cassian had always been restless, running from the past, ignoring the future. Maybe he just figured out that it was time to stop running. Perhaps it is selfish against the greater cause but you wish he decided to stop running and become a moisture farmer or something instead of a rebel spy leaping into dangerous situations.

Cassian’s voice is soft but firm as he continues speaking, “There were a few more guards at the garrison than our intel originally said. By the time I lost them, I knew I was too injured to go to the rendezvous point. You were the closest person I could get medical assistance from. I didn’t intend to put you in danger or pull you into anything.”

“I know,” You mumble, leaning forward to begin working on his injury, “I just was scared from the checkpoint.”

“I didn’t think they would tighten security so hard.”

“They think you’re still in the city and that you’re dying in a ditch somewhere, easy to find and finish off. Let’s just hope they don’t figure out your identity because they’ll come knocking here first thing.”

Cassian chews on this silently. For a little while there is no noise other than you cleaning out the injury carefully, smearing a goop of bacta gel on top of it and watching it do its work. You feel a tingle of relief knowing that Cassian will recover now without the worry of infection.

“That was a nasty wound,” You remark to finally break the silence, “What happened? Didn’t look like just a blaster bullet.”

“Got nicked by a blaster and then lost my footing, slammed into something sharp, don’t know what it was. Things were a little too frantic to tell and my vision went white. Rest of that is a blur,” He hesitates, “I barely remember making the conscious decision to come here.”

“Old habits die hard, right?” You quote from the morning.

The corners of Cassian’s mouth twist upwards for a moment in an almost smile. “You always were good at patching me up.”

Your cheeks grow warm, much to your embarrassment. Still, you brush the comment off by going, “Well, this was a little more complicated than any of your silly bar fights.”

“Even so, you still took care of it.”

His tone sounds serious now and unable to help yourself, you look at him. It is strange being this close to Cassian again and the fact he is shirtless now truly hits you. All the memories you attempted to fend off come flooding back – the times you’d be in his lap, your fingers grazing along his shoulders, his lips on your neck, his hands pressing against your lower back as he would talk dirty. No one ever quite spoke as filthy as Cassian did, no one could ever make you finish just from talking to you in the manner he did.

But that was the old Cassian, the one who wasn’t working for the rebellion, the one who was in love with you.

“Well, if I ever show up at your doorstep wounded, I expect the same treatment.”

This time he does actually laugh a little, that familiar twinkle in his eyes making your stomach twist. “I don’t think you’d want that. You and I both know my hands aren’t good for that sort of thing.”

The comment knocks the wind out of you. Is Cassian flirting? Or is he simply deflecting? It is difficult to know what he means by such a thing. All you know for sure is that it makes your heart skip a beat and you hate that it does.

“Well, the bacta gel should help a lot, on top of rest and medication. Hope you don’t have any plans because you’re going to be here for a few days.” You stand up, eager to remove yourself from the close proximity of him.

“By that time, they’ll figure I escaped the city and will ease restrictions enough I can slip out.”

“What happened to the others? None have been recaptured.”

“I got confirmation they made it to the rendezvous point. I was the only one who didn’t,” Cassian looks a little awkward before adding, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I’m sorry if I am while staying here.”

“I won’t lie, it is…different having you back, Cass,” The old nickname slips out and you curse inwardly, “It isn’t as if we’ve been talking since things ended. But I’m not going to kick you out in the street to get snatched up by the Empire either.”

He looks relieved. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well…” You trail off, not knowing what to say, “You should get some sleep. It’ll help you heal.”

Cassian nods, stretching out on the couch. He doesn’t even ask for a blanket which only makes you wonder what sort of sleeping conditions he’s had over the past few years. “Good idea.”

You turn around to head into your room, digging around for a few seconds before pulling an old blanket out of a drawer. But by the time you come back to Cassian, he is fast asleep. Clearly, the injury is still taking it’s toll on him.

Standing awkwardly in the living room, the fabric of the blanket soft against your fingers, you stare at your ex on the couch. He hadn’t put his shirt back on and his pants are riding low on his hips. Visually arrested by the sight, you are aware that you’re staring. But your feet are rooted to the spot. How many times have you seen Cassian sleep like this? Hundreds, surely.

But Cassian is different now; physically he is in better shape with scars across his skin and mentally he is more focused and driven on something you didn’t think he’d ever topple into. There is no crossing the living room and waking him up with kisses, not anymore.

Quietly, you place the blanket on the table next to Cassian and go to your room, needing some space from him and the memories.

*

The next three days involve you trying to spend as little time around Cassian as possible. You spend long hours at the clinic, checking on Cassian before your shift and before bed. Conversations are to a minimum, time with him as short as possible because you grow fearful that the memories are going to blur your present. Your time with him is done and finished. There is no going back, especially now that Cassian is swept up in the rebellion.

One of the driving factors of leaving him was that you needed some sort of emotional stability with the person you’re with. Cassian, with the fire burning in his chest and no focus for it, proved to be too chaotic of a fit for what you wanted. There would be no such emotional stability with Cassian, a hard truth to swallow.

That’s what you tell yourself every night before going to sleep anyway. In the late nights where you can hear Cassian unable to sleep, occasionally caving and watching one of the holos you have, your mind wanders to memories and a warm desire in between your legs. You wish that your body still didn’t respond to the way he looked at you or that just the casual way he hands you a cup of caf in the morning didn’t remind you of all the previous ones spent together.

To make matters worse, you are positive that the amount of anguish Cassian is experiencing from being around you is close to zero. Sure, it was evident the first day or so that he felt a little awkward. But now, he acted at ease in every conversation.

Of course, Cassian had always been an excellent liar, something that would have been honed if he was running around with the rebellion.

All you knew was that if you had to see him shirtless one more time, you might actually lose it.

*

“It’s healing well and your mobility has improved a lot,” You say one evening, after a twelve hour shift at the clinic, “In a couple of days, you should be good to go. Well, ‘good to go’ as in mostly recovered, not walk out right into a group of stormtroopers.”

Cassian moves his arm a little, leaving you thankful that his shirt is on for this checkup. He then tugs down his shirt to cover the injury. “How is it out there?”

“Loosening up, going back to the regular number of patrols. Give it a day or two and I think they’ll be shifting to scour outside the city for you. There are rumors you escaped,” You hesitate and then ask, “Where are you going to go?”

“It’s better for you not to know. You already know more than I am comfortable with in regards to your safety.” He stands up, moving towards the tiny kitchen.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, swallowing all the other questions you want to ask. His logic makes sense but suddenly the idea of Cassian vanishing into the void makes you feel…well, you aren’t sure.

Cassian rummaging around in the kitchen draws you out of your thoughts, going to join him. “Can I ask why you’re going through my kitchen?”

“Was looking for, ah, here it is,” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey that you didn’t even remember buying, “Looking for some sort of alcohol. Although I didn’t think you’d own this.”

“You’re drinking?”

“Sure,” He replies, “Where are your glasses?”

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you push past him, getting a couple. He arches one eyebrow slightly at the sight of two.

“You never liked whiskey.” He shakes the bottle a little, looking perplexed.

“That was over five years ago. Things change.” Your tone is pointed.

His gaze lingers on your face for a few seconds before going, “I suppose they do.”

And Cassian pours the whiskey into both glasses.

*

Three hours later, you are very drunk.

One drink led to another, loosening the awkward feeling around Cassian into one of familiarity. The alcohol wiped clean the fact Cassian now worked with the rebellion, wiped out the fear of hiding him in your apartment, wiped out even the breakup five years ago.

At some point during the drinking, you’ve ended up on the floor with your back against the couch. Cassian is next to you, one hand around his whiskey glass although he is slumped forward a little from laughing too hard. Your body is warm all over, a combination of the booze and being next to him.

“Why are you laughing?” You demand even though you’re laughing as well.

“Because the look on your face when I lied to the shopkeeper – I still see it so clearly,” Cassian manages to say in between laughing at the memory of some random drunken incident from a long time ago.

“You’re supposed to let me in on the lies not allow me to walk right into them,” You scold before taking another sip of the whiskey which burns on the way down.

Cassian rubs his eyes to wipe the tears that formed from laughing for too long and looks at you. “You’re right, you’re right,” He pauses for a moment and adds, “I guess I broke that rule again, didn’t I?”

“Yes!” You sit up straighter, ready to lecture him, “You should’ve told me!”

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to,” He points out although the edges of his words are slurred from too much drinking, “The whole…injury and fever.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, “The next morning then. Before I went to the clinic.”

“I was afraid about the checkpoints,” The earlier laughter from his voice is gone, and he looks serious now, “It was safer for you not to know much.”

Logically, you know Cassian is right. But you’re too drunk for logic. “I figured I was shut out of things. Of knowing things about your life. Because of what happened between us.”

Had you moved closer to Cassian or had he moved closer to you? Things were difficult to keep straight while clouded with this much booze. Either way, the two of you are close now, as close as possible without touching. You can see the stubble grazing his jawline, the tension in his shoulders that he still carries even now, the way his hair curls slightly against the back of his neck. All familiar, all off limits.

“No,” Cassian’s voice has dropped to a whisper, “You’re not shut out of things. I just didn’t want you in danger.”

“But you’re in danger,” Your words are mushy in your mouth, difficult to get out, “You’re the one going against the Empire.”

“I chose that. I didn’t want to bring you into something without you deciding if it was wanted.”

“We don’t get a choice with the Empire,” You mumble, “Either we go along with the tide to make it easier on ourselves or we try to swim against it. But the Empire in our lives isn’t a choice. It just is.”

You have no idea if what you said makes any sense. But Cassian’s gaze grows troubled. He moves slightly and his hand that was on the floor suddenly touches yours. His skin is warm to the touch and before you can stop yourself, you curl your fingers around his hand.

“You should come with me,” He says so quietly that you have to lean even closer to make out the words, “We need medics. We need people like you.”

“I’m not cut out for that sort of thing, Cass.”

“Yes, you are,” He says firmly.

“Besides, what would that mean? Being around you all the time?” The words flow too easily, loosened by the whiskey, “Seeing you all the time?”

His thumb is grazing the top of your hand now. The small touch is making your head light. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted Cassian more than you have at this moment. But you have no right to him. He is not a part of your life any longer.

“Would that be so bad?” He teases, his voice dropping an octave.

The tone is reminiscent, too reminiscent of what Cassian would sound like before he kissed you. Your body is screaming for him. All thoughts of rebellion and the Empire are washed away with the pure desire that is overwhelming your senses.

Your foreheads are practically touching, lips so close that it would be simple to kiss him. Fucking Cassian had always been the best sex of your life. He knew exactly what you liked, knew exactly how to get you off and fuck, he had a mouth on him that would –

Cassian suddenly pulls away, giving a small shake of his head as if breaking the surface of the water. Shocked, you remain frozen in place, wondering what just happened.

“We’ve both been drinking,” He says in a shaky voice, “We both aren’t thinking clearly.”

You feel wounded at the rejection, your feelings hurt even if a tiny sober part of you is trying to yell that Cassian is correct in neither one of you thinking clearly.

But you refuse to let him know the impact almost kissing him had on you nor the sting of rejection. Pulling your hand away from his, you try to breezily say, “True. I don’t think I’m cut out for the rebellion but I appreciate the sales pitch.”

On wobbly legs, you manage to stand, looking down at Cassian. There is an expression behind his beautiful eyes that you cannot make out but your brain is too hazy to do so anyway.

“I should get some sleep. Goodnight, Cass.”

Cassian, for once, doesn’t have any witty retort or casual goodnight. You leave in silence, wanting nothing more than to have him again but knowing he doesn’t want the same.

*

In the harsh morning light, you want to hide under the blankets forever given your memory of the night before. The drunken camaraderie had been one thing, even Cassian discussing the rebellion with you was understandable but the almost kiss…

You’re standing under the hot water of the shower, letting it run over your skin in an attempt to batter your headache away. You weren’t scheduled for a shift at the clinic today and Cassian could not yet leave. You don’t know how to spend an entire day around him. You could come up with an excuse to head out for the day but the idea of dodging stormtroopers and dealing with that anxiety doesn’t seem ideal either.

By the time you’re out of the shower, mostly dry and changed in clean clothes, you’re dying for some caf. Taking a deep breath, you step out of your room. Cassian is in the kitchen, his hair mussy from sleep, looking over in your direction sleepily.

“Did you just wake up?” You ask.

He nods, stifling a yawn. “I think I feel well enough to use your shower, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I was making some caf,” He presses the button to turn the machine on, “I haven’t drank that much in ages.”

“Me either and now I remember why I stopped,” You rub your forehead, wishing to be rid of the headache.

Cassian seems to hesitant for a moment before changing his mind on whatever he planned on saying, instead going, “I’ll take that shower now.”

He walks by you quickly, almost as if he is scurrying. Could it be he’s embarrassed about last night? Surely not. More than likely, he is embarrassed for you and the fact you almost kissed your ex. Grabbing a mug, you get the caf, standing by the counter and losing yourself in thoughts of Cassian, the past and how he could still elicit such a reaction out of you.

You aren’t sure how long your mind wanders because the next second, Cassian calls out from your bedroom, “Do you have any clothes I could borrow that might fit me?”

“Maybe in the bottom right drawer? I don’t know,” You reply.

There is some rummaging around in your room and then a few minutes later he comes out. The sight of him makes you laugh and he looks perturbed.

“Don’t,” He warns.

“The pajama bottoms are okay but that shirt is way too small for you.”

Cassian looks down at himself. The shirt is probably two sizes too small, sticking to him like a second skin, showing off his toned chest in a manner that would be districting if he didn’t look so ridiculous. He scowls, crossing the room to get some caf.

“I didn’t pack any overnight clothes for the breakout, silly me,” He mumbles.

“We can clean your little rebellion uniform today so you’re not wearing that all day.”

Cassian’s hair is still wet from the shower, his back to you as he drinks his caf. He makes a noise of irritation and rolls his shoulders uncomfortably which only shows off his muscles.

“Forget it,” He finally says to himself and then begins to try to remove the too tight shirt off him.

He manages to get it successfully almost over his shoulders before it is too tight to fully yank off. Even though Cassian being stuck in the shirt is funny, you grow concerned about him opening his wound and go over to help. Reaching up, you successfully pull the shirt off.

“I’ll just wait until my clothes are cleaned,” He says with an annoyed shake of his head.

You are holding the shirt in your hands, trying not to stare at him casually drinking caf in your kitchen while shirtless. You couldn’t handle Cassian drunk, you couldn’t handle him sober – and you had been the one to end the relationship, for fucks sake.

Maybe you are giving off an awkward energy or something because he glances over at you, back at his mug and then back at you. He then puts the mug down with a heavy thunk, moving in your direction.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“You keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Cassian is close to you now but this time you’re both sober. You are clenching the shirt in your hands so tightly that you worry about tearing the fabric. Cassian’s chest, covered in large and small scars, tell a story that you have no knowledge of, indisputable proof of the passage of time you play no part in – but the worst part is that you find yourself wanting to know all the stories.

Cassian places one hand on either side of you, gripping the counter. The warmth of his body and seeing him shirtless seems to spark an awakening once more in your body. Your thighs clench and the shirt in your hands becomes some sort of shield between the two of you.

“Like you detest me being here but also can’t stop thinking about me,” He says gruffly, his eyes dropping to look at your lips, his eyelashes wet smears against his skin.

“That’s not true,” You lie weakly.

“Is that why you wanted to kiss me last night?” He says ruthlessly.

You want to melt into the floor and are momentarily struck silent. You don’t know how to respond because your desire for him is blocking out all rational thought. You desperately want to touch Cassian, just to feel his skin underneath your hands, to have his lips on yours once again.

He keeps going, “But you’re the one that ended things, remember?”

“I remember,” You try to make your voice like stone but it sounds frail to your ears, “Don’t act like I don’t remember. You make it sound as if the choice were easy for me, as if it didn’t eat me up inside.”

Cassian leans forward, still not touching you. You think that he is going to discuss the breakup further, talk about how painful it was and how it felt to end things after all the ups and downs.

Instead, as his lips hover just above your ear, he whispers, “Tell me, has anyone fucked you as good as I did since we broke up?”

Your eyes close tightly, your pussy growing wet. His impact on you is dizzying. You hadn’t realized just what he could do to you until after things ended and you slept with others. None had been like Cassian.

“Have any of them figured out what makes you tick? Did any of them realize what really gets you off is a dirty mouth?” His lilting accent mixed with his own desire is enough to make you crumble and beg for him.

“Cass, I…” You swallow hard, trying your best to form a sentence.

“I could hear you tossing and turning last night,” His voice is still a whisper, “Were you remembering all the times I fucked you? All the times I used my mouth to make you cum?”

You’re so turned on that it is impossible to think clearly. Cassian has always used his clever mind to come up with the most filthy dirty talk anyone has ever spoken to you, something that no one has even been able to live up against. You just had assumed that you never would hear him talk like this again.

You manage to wrangle enough brainpower to go, “You wanted to kiss me last night too, didn’t you? That’s why you’re trying to fuck me right now.”

Cassian moves away from your ear. For a second, you wonder if you’ve pushed things too far – hilarious, given the way he is talking to you – but the expression on his face shows otherwise. He is looking at you with pure lust, those gorgeous brown eyes of his so familiar in the way they study your face. His hair is drying slowly, forming those small curls that you’ve grabbed ahold of when he would go down on you.

Yes, the universe knows that you broke up with Cassian. But would it be so wrong to throw that out the window for the day and fuck him?

“You broke up with me, remember?” He repeats carefully, studying your face, “I never stopped wanting you.”

With that declaration, you throw caution out the window, bringing your arms around his neck to pull him in to kiss you. Your lips crush against his as your fingers go to his wet hair, giving it a sharp tug. Cassian groans in your mouth, a sound so familiar that it threatens to devour your head entirely with passion. Your skin is tingling, each nerve in your body awake from a long sleep without him.

You love the taste of him in your mouth and the way his hands press on your lower back so that you are pushed against him. You can feel his desperation, echoing past times of kissing like this. But there is something a little different in Cassian’s kisses now – an edge that speaks to the sort of life he lives now. Danger at every corner, unsure of what the next morning would bring, and how to deal with whatever happens – it shows through his kisses that now have an urgency and wild undercurrent to them.

The two of you are stumbling towards the bedroom, the caf forgotten. Cassian pulls off your shirt and it lands somewhere in the living room. He is stiff against your thigh as he kisses you again, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth. The back of your legs strike your bed frame and you lose your footing, landing on the bed.

Cassian doesn’t waste any time, undressing you until you’re just in a flimsy pair of underwear. His lips drag against every inch of your skin, his hands electric against your body. He bites down on one your nipples just to make you gasp.

“You remember the one night you wore that tiny dress at the cantina and teased me for hours?” He says as he fondles your tits, his thumbs grazing your nipples.

You did. You thought Cassian was going to bring you home and fuck the hell out of you which is not…exactly what happened.

He keeps going, “And by the end of the night, you were the one begging for me to fuck you.”

Cassian is pulling your underwear off now, tossing them over his shoulder and gently spreading your legs apart. You remember quite clearly how the night went and what he did –

“What did I tell you when we got home that night?” He prompts and when you open your mouth to reply, he talks along with you, “I said I could make you cum with two licks of my tongue against your clit. And I did, didn’t I?”

The memory makes your cheeks hot. At the time, you thought it was typical Cassian bravado. But your orgasm had been so intense that you didn’t doubt he could do such a thing again now.

His hands are rubbing your thighs, very slowly as if there is all the time in the world now to talk to you. “I’ve improved since then so…I think I can make you cum with one lick.”

You scoff, unable to help your bewilderment. “That’s ridiculous even for you.”

Cassian’s grin is so fast that you may have imagined it if you didn’t know him like you do. He straightens up, keeping his hands on your knees so that you’re spread in front of him. His hair is a little messy from the way you grabbed it during all the kissing, his broad shoulders and well toned chest enough to make you want to beg for him just to skip to fucking you.

But you know that he would never do such a thing because he derives too much pleasure in watching you squirm underneath him, too much pleasure in running his mouth off.

“Is that so?” He asks, “Because unless you’ve changed a lot in the past few years, I know that all you need is me talking to get you to cum.”

You don’t reply because what is there to refute? Cassian had always been able to get you off the hardest when he talked dirty, seemingly knowing every word that pressed your buttons the most and made you cum the strongest. No one else figured that out – fuck, you weren’t even aware of it yourself until dating him.

And you’d be lying if you didn’t admit how much it was missed.

“Your pussy is still as pretty as I remember it,” He says almost affectionally, “I wonder if it will still feel as good wrapped around my cock. I used to love when you’d sit in my lap with my cock buried in your hole, remember that?” You breath catches at the memory: the way you would rock your hips against him as his fingers would trail down across your back until neither one could wait any longer and you’d start bouncing in his lap.

Cassian is thinking of that too judging by the way he runs one finger down along your inner thigh, watching the way you shiver. “You know what makes your pussy look even prettier?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “When it’s filled with my load, leaking my cum. And it always did, didn’t it? Because I made sure to fill up your pretty pussy every time you begged for it.”

It’s striking you just how much you missed Cassian talking in this manner. You realize belatedly that you’d been looking for a lover to talk dirty like this in the years since the breakup but it isn’t just the words that mattered – you wanted Cassian.

You weren’t aware that you’ve been squirming until he goes, “This is difficult for me too, sweetheart,” The pet name he always used for you in bed rolls off his tongue so smoothly that you don’t think he even notices, “Do you think it’s easy for me seeing your pussy this wet for me and I can’t bury my face in it? It punishes me as much as you.”

He isn’t lying. Cassian is partial to eating pussy, another benefit to having dated him, and yet another thing missing from lovers that came afterwards. In fact, being with him again like this is starting to blur out all the very valid reasons the relationship didn’t work out, leaving you wondering why in the universe you thought breaking up with Cassian had been a good idea.

“And you know there’s nothing more I love than worshiping your pretty pink hole,” Cassian goes on, his fingers moving in slow, soft circles against your thighs. “Don’t worry, I remember all the buttons to press with you. I know the way you like to be spoken to and the way you like to be fucked best – soft and slow, right? With me on top, pressing against you as I pump my cock in your tight cunt while I whisper in your ear.”

You can hardly stand the way his tongue isn’t against your clit right now. Every inch of your body is screaming for more alongside all the memories of fucking him. Cassian’s index finger moves tantalizingly close to your clit but he stops just above. His gaze flicks upwards to look at you squirming with one hand clutching the quilt to steady yourself.

“Did you miss me?” He suddenly asks, his fingers resuming their soft trail against your skin, away from your pussy, “Did you think of me, even for a moment, when you fucked someone else?”

It’s unfair of him to ask such questions when your mind is in a fog and you can’t come up with something clever to say.

“I know I probably shouldn’t admit this,” His voice hangs in the air, dangling a confession in front of you, “But I’ve thought of you. I’ve never known anyone’s body like I’ve known yours and I don’t think I will again.”

Cassian’s grip on your thighs tighten, keeping your legs spread. His eyes look like dark clouds on the horizon, a mingle of lust and memories. Your own brain is swirling, wanting more of him, remembering how it used to feel with his cock fully inside you as he rocked his hips.

“I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone else who has a pussy made for me,” He is lowering his face towards your cunt now, his voice even as though he is completely confident in making you cum, “Someone who is my perfect little slut.”

The use of slut sends a shiver through your body immediately. Cassian has always used the word sparingly because it always drives the biggest reaction out of you, your body responding to the usage of the word in dirty talk before your mind can even wrap around it. He wouldn’t devalue the power it has to turn you on by overusing it and since it had been years, the impact of the word makes you gasp –

And Cassian immediately lowers his head, his tongue flat against your swollen clit, giving one hard flick against it. The dirty talk, the use of slut and his tongue has you climaxing immediately in one loud moan. Your back arches, your pussy against Cassian’s face as you cum. Your thighs shake, your eyes closing tightly as his name tumbles from your lips.

It would be impossible for anyone but Cassian to work you up with his words so much that he could make you finish like this. The orgasm is the strongest you’ve had in ages, perhaps since the last time you were with him. It blots out everything but Cassian and when your hips fall back onto the bed, he is looking particularly pleased with himself.

You prop yourself up a little to look at him. Your entire body is tingling as the orgasm fades. Cassian, with his broad shoulders, tanned skin and toned chest, looks better than you can ever recall. Instead of sating your desire, the orgasm only has made you want him more.

He smiles slowly, crawling forward, bringing his body against yours as he speaks, “Well, look at that. I guess I can make you finish with just one lick.”

He kisses you before a reply can be uttered. You can taste yourself on his lips. His stiff cock strains against the pajama bottoms he is still wearing. You are fumbling with the top of them, trying to pull them off. He laughs against your mouth but kicks them and his boxers off swiftly.

Languidly, Cassian brings his body back against yours. Skin to skin like this with him makes your head swim. Your heart is racing, fingertips skirting along his back, feeling the difference in his skin from the years that passed. Your fingers touch bumps and indents in the skin that weren’t there previously, a landscape of time marked on his skin.

When his lips find yours yet again, his tongue in your mouth, his stubble grazes against your skin. You’ve detested the sensation on everyone but Cassian – he was always the exception to everything. Instinctively, you curl your legs around his waist. His cock is at your entrance now. You know how he is going to fuck you – in the slow, soft quiet way he would fuck you after an argument where his voice would once again lull you to an orgasm.

Cassian enters you slowly, allowing you to feel each inch of his girth fill up your hole. You squeeze around his length automatically and his breath catches. When he is finally fully inside, the kiss breaks as he brings his arms underneath your back. His hands grip the sheets near your head. There is not a spot between the two of you that isn’t touching.

Cassian leaves a trail of kisses along your jawline, stopping to tug gently on your earlobe with his teeth. He has not moved yet, remaining still inside you. You luxuriate in the sensation of having Cassian again. Your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, eyes closed with pleasure.

Cassian moves his hips so slightly that if you hadn’t done this with him a thousand times before you wouldn’t have noticed. But the touch is like fire rolling through you – the most wonderful fire possible. You know that you’re whimpering but Cassian has always loved your small noises of pleading.

In a soft, deep voice, Cassian begins to speak honeyed words in your ear, “You remember that week we ran off to Canto Bight? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going, just left.”

You do remember. It was a year or so into the relationship. Hazy with love for one another, there had been no planning involved. Life kept getting in the way and you only wanted Cassian. The week was a blur of gambling, drinking and sex. The memory was something that belonged to a holo, not your own life.

Cassian is still very slowly moving his hips. He isn’t fully thrusting, just making small movements, enough to begin to work you up. His own breathing is shaky as he tries to control himself from pounding into you.

“I remember fucking you in front of the window of the hotel room. Twenty floors up and you didn’t care who saw you,” He goes on in a taunt voice, knowing full well that you love nothing more than being fucked like this, listening to him whisper in your ear, “You had just the necklace I bought you on, draped across your tits.”

“I remember,” You gasp out, eyes fluttering closed at the memory.

“When I came, it was all over your stomach so if anyone was watching they could see you covered in my cum.” Cassian moves a little faster now, fully pulling out of your cunt before lowering his hips to go all the way back in. The slow and deliberate pace is making you squirm against him but he doesn’t alter it.

“And every morning before we left the room, I’d bend you over and fuck you in the shower,” He continues relentlessly, “I’d watch your tight hole swallow up my cock until I’d empty my balls in you. That was my favourite trip, you know.”

You whimper, thighs clenching at the memory. It doesn’t matter how much you wiggle against him, Cassian refuses to change his speed. He knows how to make you cum better than you do.

“Do you remember when I’d cum inside you and then you’d dip your fingers in your cunt to make sure it didn’t leak out? Your pussy always looked the best like that, covered in my load which you smeared across your fingers,” His voice catches at the very end as he goes hip to hip with you, his cock buried in your pussy.

Your hands find his hair, tugging on it anxiously. You attempt to lift your hips upwards to try to meet his movements, a silent plea for more but Cassian brings his own hips downward. You groan at the sensation, your breathing ragged.

“You look the prettiest when you’re fucked out from me,” He continues as if you aren’t begging. But this is how it always goes with Cassian. The fact he refuses to give you what is so desired makes the entire interaction hotter. “When you’re too fucked out to move afterwards, when all you can do is hold onto me and fall asleep,” He moves a little faster now, “Or maybe you look the prettiest when my cock is in your mouth and you’re looking up at me with your beautiful eyes. I love your lips stretched out around my cock, you drooling all over it as you suck me off.”

“Cass,” The name comes out like a broken plea, your fingernails gliding down his back, sure to leave some light scratches, “Cass,” You whine again.

He ignores your begging. His cock moves in and out of your cunt easily because you’re dripping wet for him. You can feel how slick your pussy is when Cassian pulls out all the way and slips back inside, his cock covered in your wetness.

“I’ve missed hearing you plead for me,” He admits, his breathing uneven, “Let me hear you say my name again.”

“Cass – just fuck me, I need – I gotta cum.”

He smirks against your skin, replying, “You just came, sweetheart, you can’t wait a little bit longer?”

You know all too well Cassian can hold off on his own orgasm just to make you wait longer for your own. But the earlier climax has only made you desperately need another, one where he is fucking you and cumming inside your pussy.

“Cass, I can’t wait,” You know that you’re not furthering your cause but your need for him to fuck you into the mattress is too strong, “Just fuck me hard, please.”

Maybe it is that so much time has passed since the last time you slept with him. Perhaps Cassian is just lost in the memories of your time together and he is feeling a little soft. Regardless of the reason, he begins to adjust his position, sending relief through you. Propping himself up above you, with a hand gripping the bedsheets next to each side of your head, he studies you beneath him.

Normally, Cassian never caves. He would keep at his slow pace until you finish. But whether it’s the years or desire, for the first time he submits.

With a jerk of his hips, he drives his cock in your cunt and then doesn’t stop. The entire time his eyes don’t leave your face, studying your ever changing expressions to figure out what speed makes you feel the best. His own breathing is growing ragged from having held back his own orgasm for so long. As he fucks you hard and fast, the bed frame rattling from the sheer force of it, your head rolls back as a long moan of his name escapes from in between your lips.

You are cumming again, raising your hips to meet his thrusts as your pussy tightens around his girth. Cassian gasps and shivers but is still holding back, making sure that you ride out your climax. As you finish, he lowers himself down, curling around your body as he pumps his hips steadily.

“I’m going –” His voice catches, “Fuck, take my load, sweetheart.”

Cassian grunts, spilling out in your pussy. He always came a lot and this time is no exception. You can feel his hot load filling you up as he buries his face in your neck, breathing shakily. You love how it feels to have him finishing in your cunt again and your hands go to his ass, gripping it hard to make sure he stays inside you until he finishes completely.

Afterwards, Cassian pulls out and rolls onto his back next to you, panting. He runs his hand through his hair, eyes closed tightly. You know that you’re leaking his cum and from the two intense orgasms you’ve had, all you can do is lay there and try to collect yourself.

The day just started and it felt as if you could sleep it away.

But the question of what happens now still lingers at your brain.

*

“And that one?”

Cassian glances down at the top of his shoulder, squinting. “Blaster bolt grazed me… I think.”

“You think?”

“Some of it just…blurs together,” He gives a casual shrug.

The answer as to what happens now ended up being spending the entire day in bed, lazily switching between talking about the past few years and fucking. As evening descends, you are in Cassian’s lap in the living room after having successfully left the bedroom to eat dinner.

Half dressed in his lap, while Cassian is once again shirtless, you are running your fingers across the various scars and marks on his chest. His own hands have wiggled under your long shirt, touching the bare skin of your lower back.

Playfully, you point to the bandage on his side. “That one?”

“Oh, that one? Prison breakout. Going to leave a nasty scar, that one. I don’t think the medic knew exactly how to deal with it.”

“Hey!” You protest although you are giggling.

Cassian smiles, his gaze softening at your expression. He brings one hand upwards to cup your cheek and your laughter dies in your throat as the questions you’ve been avoiding since first fucking him in the morning come bubbling to the surface.

“What now?” You cannot help but ask, “You just leave once it’s safe?”

“Come with me,” He says, “I meant what I said earlier. The rebellion needs medics.”

“I’m not cut out for the rebellion, Cass.”

“If I am, then you certainly are,” He pauses for a second and adds on, “It isn’t just the rebellion who needs medics. I want you back.”

You blink in surprise at his forthcoming nature, unsure how to respond.

He goes on in a clear tone, “I know why we broke up. I get why you ended things. But I’m not like that now. I have something I’m focused on, something that is important to me, something my energy goes into. It isn’t like before…I’m not like I was before. Give me a chance to show you that. Come with me when I leave here.”

Your heart is beating quickly at his serious stare. “You’re asking a lot,” You finally manage to say.

“I know. But I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important to me.”

You know it is a risk and you have no idea how it will play out. But Cassian is correct in that he isn’t the same person he was when you first ended the relationship and this time around him showed you that deep down in your heart you still longed for him.

On top of that, you also knew that the Imperial overreach would only grow worse. Maybe you wouldn’t be on the front lines or running around as a spy but surely your skills could still come in handy.

“Besides, maybe if you had been around all these years, I wouldn’t be so scarred,” He jokes softly.

“Not so sure about that one seeing as you’re going to have a fresh new scar on your side,” You point out.

“That’s just a reminder I’d be dead if you hadn’t answered the door.”

You feel safe and comfortable in his lap like this, your fingers idly touching his chest. He is warm and inviting in a way that he only ever showed to you. But there is a hardness underneath that Cassian always had, now honed like a weapon to be aimed at the Empire.

Cassian is impossible to resist and impossible to forget. You already know what you’re going to say – why dance around it?

“Alright.”

He raises one eyebrow. “Can you be a little more specific? Alright to…the rebellion? To me?”

“To both.”

His shoulders sag slightly with relief and happiness flickers behind those gorgeous brown eyes of his that you’ve been enamored with since the first time he looked at you all those years ago. He leans forward, kissing you softly.

You wrap your arms around Cassian, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. He is comforting, warm like your favourite blanket and familiar as ever even with all the changes. When his arms circle around your waist, your heart flutters.

This is where you’re meant to be, you think, softening against him.

The universe has an interesting way of having you circle back to the one you’ve always loved.

the end.