As he said those words, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of genuine care over him. They were just friends was something she told herself and yet he had come to matter a great deal to her. She didn't just invite him to dinner because she felt bad for him and his plight― she genuinely wanted his company, to see him again even if it came at her expense. It was rare for her to do those things for anyone especially since she was endlessly chasing her own financial freedoms but it was clear she was starting to care too much about him. Yet as she stood there with the blaster in hand, she shook her head and forced herself to sway away any thoughts she might have had over the man. Now was far from the time to be dwelling on such ideas― she was here to train and work.
So she swallowed down a bundle of saliva that had nervously accumulated in her mouth as she simply looked back at him and then forward, bringing her hand up towards the new and refreshed targets. Inara could feel his eyes burning into her, staring her down and yet she forced herself to return back to her usual state of being; in control. With a soft inhale, she began to warm up the device and aimed it forward, taking far longer this time before she shot. When she finally did, she was able to hit the target dead center but it was clear this wasn't ideal. It took her far too long to do it and on the battlefield it meant a certain doom.
With an exhale, she swung her arm down and turned towards him, nervously looking at him. "I'm too slow. I need to get better and faster."
Despite her fretting, Cassian didn’t sound worried. “The aim is the first step. Once you know how to do it slow, you can do it fast. But if you want to work on reflexes—”
He went back to the holo-projector, pressed a few buttons, keyed in a different sequence, before returning to her. Now, only a single target shimmered into view once more.
“As soon as you hit the first one,” he explained, “another one will appear projected somewhere else. Don’t worry about getting a perfect bullseye with these. It’s about speed, hand-eye coordination. Follow your instincts, don’t overthink. It’ll get better with practice.”
It was a crisp, businesslike rundown, the sort of training he ran all the new recruits through at the base. But underneath it was a thread of care throughout, the whole reason he’d suggested this, the reason he encouraged Inara to learn; it was the best way of keeping her safe, and Cassian was neurotic about keeping his loved ones safe. He tended to hold them too close as-is. It was a constant point of contention with rebellion leadership, and it’d probably get him in trouble someday. But for now: he tried.
His response to her overall nervousness and self-criticism came as a surprise to Inara, enough to draw a tender expression from her as she watched him move. She had been expecting a taunt, a tease or two perhaps but support like this? It felt far warmer than she had been anticipating even if at a surface level it came across as pure, direct commands. It left her heart racing to put it bluntly.
Instead of focusing on that though, she gave him a quick and simple nod, turning her attention back to the target and held her arms up once more. This time she moved her body in a way that commanded control and firmness, head staring forward and focused, eyes wide and observant. As soon as a small alarm went off to indicate the machine was ready, she began to fire off quickly. Her aim was off at first, but with each new target coming in, she kept shooting faster and faster, hitting the target more accurately each time.
Finally when there were no more targets left, she put the safety on her device and swung her arms down, turning to face Cassian with a few beads of sweat dripping down her face.
Inara was starting to wear out, but Cassian took training deathly serious and never made it easy for a trainee; being lax was just the path to more rebels coming home swaddled in funerary cloth, their faces blown off, barely recognisable for their loved ones.
“Again,” he said, and keyed the sequence to start again, targets and locations randomised once more. It was like working out at the gym: you had to hit the wall and then keep going. Each time you’d be able to do it for longer.
But after another sequence, another round, more sweat on her temple and arms arching from holding up the gun, he finally relented: that stern shell of Captain Andor finally cracking and melting away, leaving only Cassian, her friend. He turned off the machine and reached out to lift the blaster out of Inara’s numb fingers, an apology almost on the tip of his tongue.
“Alright. That’s probably enough.” His eyes crinkled in a half-smile. “You’ll call me a heartless drill sergeant if I don’t let you take a break now.”
Regardless of whether or not she was starting to wear out, Inara shared a similar vision that Cassian did. She genuinely wanted to improve upon her skills and become more proficient because even if she didn't say it, she knew death was always lurking around the corner. It was true that she heavily vetted her clients and generally kept herself out of situations that could bring her harm but to be unprepared and unable to handle a larger array of attackers given the people she associated with was a fool's errand. She was far from one— after all, she was a woman who sought control and would do anything to have it. So there were no complaints from her, no sighs or whimpers of how unfair he was being.
Instead she moved her body with all of her might and lifted up the blaster again, aiming and waiting for the new sequence of targets to be prepared. Once they were, she began to fire off again, this time moving at a faster velocity than before and pushing herself to all of her limits. Her aim was much better, poised and in control but by the end of it, it was clear she was finally wearing herself out. Before she could do anything else though, the device was taken from her hands and she was left staring at the man beside her with a confused expression before she finally relented.
"I wouldn't, not when I wanted this but.....a break is good for the mind and soul, to keep me refreshed and alert. Shall we go into my suite for a drink then?"
It was part of the instinct you developed after a few years working like this: the sense of when someone had likely had enough, even if they didn’t think they’d reached their limit, when they kept wanting to keep going.
Cassian tucked away the blaster, back into his hip-slung holster. The late afternoon had been wearing on, red-soaked Bellerophon sunset eventually sinking around the floating island, the sky a painting. “That sounds great,” he said, warmly. “Haven’t seen this suite yet.”
He’d never visited Inara as a client, but he’d occasionally visited her various private quarters as a friend: expensive rooms scattered all across the galaxy, fancy parlours and soothing comfortable environments, a far cry from the grim environments he tended to live in while on mission. It’d be a nice place to relax.
He grabbed his jacket again, slung it over his shoulder, and he’ll tail her back indoors.
Anyone else would be admonished for such a bold and familiar comment towards Inara— truthfully Cassian was one of the few outside of Kaylee who were allowed into her suite without any reservations. The respect he had always shown her won him that favor and while she rarely thought much of it, there was something in the way the sky painted a view for them, the energy that surrounded them that left her strumming with a strange sensation. As things were settled away in the practice room, she began to guide them out towards the hallway and down the path that would lead to her suite. There was a strong emotion, perhaps a small fear that followed her and while she kept a neutral expression—
she couldn't help but wonder if this was a mistake. Inviting him to her suite, but then again what made this day different than their past times together?
Shaking away the thought, when they finally came to her door, she turned towards him and offered a polite smile. "Don't be too surprised, my host allowed me to have the best room around. So drink to your heart's content, there's an open bar and other amenities. Given the nature of your....work well you should take advantage when you can." As she opened the door, she couldn't help but wonder if she should be saying those words to herself.
'Take advantage when you can', because really moments of passing bliss were rare and few among friends, or those who slowly began to fall further from that title.
Cassian followed her into the rooms, and on autopilot, started picking out the number of doors and windows and alternate exits like he always did. But everything else here was perfectly-calculated to put someone at ease, all pampered luxury and comfort. He had to remind himself to ease into it: take advantage when you can.
And some people in the resistance might have rankled at the disparity, the far cry between Inara’s rich world and theirs, but he knew not to hold it against her. She was still an ally. They had friends everywhere.
“I’m still never used to places like this,” he admitted, accepting her invitation and moving to the bar where he started to rustle through the glasses and bottles, looking for something to pour for both of them. “One of our leaders— she was a senator in the core worlds, grew up rich, she’s having a real shock adjusting to rebel life.”
It wasn’t really a secret anymore, so he could mention Mon Mothma’s involvement. The manka cat was out of the bag as soon as the senator ducked the Imperial warrant for her arrest and went on the run, openly broadcasting as one of the official leaders of the rebellion.
There were times where Inara found it difficult to remember that the access to luxury she had depended on a number of factors— on the type of client she had, on where they were meeting, and the general circumstances of the political climate around them. She had been on a lucky streak as of late, being able to secure clients with ease and being called upon by some of her more powerful and rich clientele. however she, of all people, very well knew things like these were fleeting. Moments of peace and tranquility were to be enjoyed to the fullest because they truly came so rarely. So while others might have scoffed at it, it was the reason she told him to 'take advantage when you can'. Because she knew in inviting him here to a fancy meal, offering to hire him to train her were all the little ways she could help him. She was his ally after all.
"I can imagine she is, but the cause is far greater than the comfort of luxuries I presume.", her voice was soft and idle as she went about the room looking for a tray of grazing goods for them to enjoy. When she found a small and vintage looking tray, she lifted it up and brought it over to where Cassian was. Setting it down, she reached out to touch his hands gently, eyes lifting up to look at him.
"Please allow me to make you something, you are my guest after all. Unless you....have a new cocktail mix to show me?"
Surprise at her touch stilled him into a pause, with a laugh. “You don’t want to see what I usually drink,” he said, shaking his head. “Someone got a still up and running, so me and Melshi mostly have pure revnog. Killer hangovers.”
For the longest time, he’d been cagey about sharing anyone else’s personal details in the rebellion; she’d only ever known that he shared quarters with another male rebel close to his own age, so it wasn’t until she crossed paths on them on a job that she finally got to meet the infamous Melshi, one of his best friends. They played cards and drank and were generally rambunctious bachelors when they weren’t being terrifically effective spies.
So at Inara’s invitation, Cassian stopped bustling around; this was her place, even temporary as it was, and hosting presumably ran even deeper in her instincts than his.
"Revnog? Here I thought you were a good boy who only drank bantha milk." Her voice was teasing and taunting him, a bright and cocky smile gracing her face as she remained touching him. Perhaps far longer than she should have, her energy and attitude now were no longer as nervous as before. The tension she felt earlier, the desire to be fully in control and poised for him were leaving her now. She was slipping into a more comfortable energy, as if they were two old friends from the very start. Their initial encounter was marred with the general chaos the crew on Serenity got into but with time she learned more about him, got to know him as a person.
Even if she had no true intentions of getting wrapped up, the closer she was to him [whether physically or through their friendship that only seemed to grow stronger], she was finding herself falling into something. The question was, was this what she wanted? Didn't she have something strange going on with Malcolm? Yet he never seemed to be into her, calling it a 'waste', pointless to start anything. Somewhere between those harsh words being spoken and now, she had set those feelings far from her. Still did that mean she was ready to move on? Should she?
She thought about those things in the brief moment she was standing before Cassian, hand finally escaping him before she turned towards the bar and began to work on serving herself from Corellian wine, and a more harder but sweet cocktail for her guest.
"You know, you don't have to stand around me. You can sit and relax, stretch your legs.....unless....you want to be near me.", she said, a near flirtatious tone in her voice.
There were comfortable couches in the lounge area where he could go and wait, but he’d settled against a sideboard at the edge of the room and near the bar. Still standing, leaning his weight against the credenza and arms crossed as he watched her work.
“Least I can do is keep you company while you’re making us drinks,” Cassian said lightly. And he might have left it at that, letting her hint just sit there unaddressed, but then he added knowingly: “The nice view’s a bonus.”
His flirtation had always been a gentle undercurrent to their interactions: it came easily, friendly with no expectations, a habit he carried even with total strangers. A way to put others at their ease and make them like him, because things were easier when people liked you. But the more that time went on and the more that Inara got to know him — the real him, or at least as close as he could get — and the more that she wasn’t just a passing face that he could forget in the morning… well, the riskier this all became. He hadn’t let himself care about anyone properly since Bix.
And yet he still found himself looking away from the risk, telling himself: this was fine. They deserved an indulgence, every once in a while. He could come here and share a drink with a friend and forget the war, just for a little bit.
His words are far more flirty than she could have ever imagined and they drew a warmth from her as she prepared the drinks and mulled over the kind of relationship they had. There was something about him that made her feel comfortable— she had often said she felt she could only be her true self around other women, but with Cassian it was different. The bold and daring side of her, the more nervous and vulnerable aspects to her— she could be them all around him and even if she still masked the nervousness she felt about wanting to be perfect, she felt comfortable around him. So his flirting wasn't rebuked at all, in fact once the drinks were done she turned around with them in hand and held out a his drink before him. If and when he took it, her fingers lingered on his just a bit longer than usual.
"Nice? I would say it's far better than nice.", she whispered, moving closer to him and nearly closing whatever gap there was between them. She placed her left hand on his shoulder, drink in her other hand as she looked at him with a soft passion in her eyes.
"I'm not usually the brazen type, but I'd argue I'm one of the best things about this place. The best view in this room."
All this time, all this comfortable friendship, and the easiest thing would be to simply leave it at that: a growing platonic trust, a steady foundation to build their dynamic on, something dependable and true. He accepted the drink from her, watching Inara over the edge of his glass as he took a sip and considered.
Strong but sweet, he thought. It wasn’t just about the drink.
The more cautious part of him was wary about pushing his luck and crossing this line, jeopardising one of his few friendships. But the other, greater part of him was warmed by the drink and the sunset and her company, and the constant awareness nagging at him that tomorrow’s mission might be his last, or the next, or the next. The future was never a guarantee. He might never make it back here to her side if his implausible luck finally ran out. He might never get to find out what this brewing something was between them. And if Cassian could dare to be brave and reckless on a mission when life called for it…
“You won’t find me complaining,” he finally said, still smiling. “Good thing I like brazen—”
And he took a second deep swig of his drink before setting it down on the sideboard, and leaning in to kiss her instead, free hand catching at Inara’s jaw, tasting the Corellian wine on her lips.
Strong but sweet was truly the manner in which Inara conducted herself in— her strength came from her need to control all outcomes around her, all gestures and movements to ensure her clients were obedient and didn't step out of line. Outside of that though, to those like Cassian and Kaylee, she showed her kindness through forms of physical affection, service, and whatever else she could do to make them see she was far beyond being a companion. She was a woman with multiple aspects to herself and most of all, she was human.
It was for that reason she could be forgiving and understanding, accepting that whatever boundaries the two had tossed up amongst themselves, they could go back to where they've been if he wanted it. If he didn't, well she'd accept whatever this relationship would and was turning into—
as long as he still remained her friend at the end of the day and showed her the respect she asked for when it came to her line of work. That's all she needed and as she lingered close to him, she could sense they were about to cross a unique bridge together. Hand in hand, blind and foolish to the world outside of them perhaps but she was more than ready for it. So when the kiss came, rough but tender and filled with flavor, she simply leaned into it and pressed herself against him. This was the space they had created, a world for themselves beyond the confides of whatever was outside. Wars, work, injustice, her crew....his crew. This was their moment.
"How long have you been holding that back for?", she managed to say in between a small break from their kissing. Whether he answered her in time or not though, she was soon kissing him back, not moving her jaw from his hand at all. Only he, of all the people she had been with could touch her like this because he made her feel safe. It was his gift in this moment.
“Too long,” Cassian admitted after a moment when they came up for air next, forehead tipped against hers, still smiling against her mouth as he added, “Don’t hold it against me.”
Because most people would be jumping at the opportunity to be with someone like Inara, but he had been too cautious, too careful. It was probably time to stop worrying and fretting and simply take the leap. Take advantage when you can. It was the most clear-cut open door and invitation he’d ever gotten.
So he soon forgot all about the drinks; the kiss hungry and pent-up with all the restrained passion he’d been tamping down, every night they’d sat and talked into the late hours, every lingering goodbye which didn’t become more, every evening cut off before it could slip into an unwise decision, every time they’d hesitated over inviting him back to her shuttle or her back to whatever room he was living in for the cycle. But now they were finally here: Inara pressing herself closer, Cassian’s hands winding into her hair, his tongue and teeth against hers as they deepened the kiss.
"I won't.....never.", she said as all the tension and stress from before finally began to melt away from her. Even she wasn't quite sure how or why she had gotten all stressed out and nervous before during training— but now it began to all make sense to her. She knew it deep down but it wasn't until his forehead was against hers, eyes glaring down at her with hunger and the remnants of his drink on her lips that it became clear. She wasn't sure what she had been hinting at when she said those words, but much like with him, they were now swimming in her mind and pushing her towards truly taking advantage of the situation while she could.
Just how many times did she wish she had done that before? Far too many to count, but the reminder of her own hesitations soon began to slip from her mind as he began to kiss her once more, leaving her breathless and hungry for so much more. It was cruel to deny each other what they wanted when life was fleeting, war loomed ahead, and tomorrow could possibly never come. So she wrapped her arms around him, pulling and yearning as she tugged him close and began to guide him towards the bed in the room. Their footsteps were in unison, careful and leading, soft whimpering moans escaping her lips as they went on.
With all his attention riveted on her, Cassian wasn’t watching where he was going, and one knee wound up colliding with some fancy endtable with a faint sting of pain— he gave a small yelp of surprise, a sheepish laugh, glancing down before Inara helped maneuver him the right way towards the bed. He walked backwards until his legs bumped into the bed itself, finding himself tipping backwards to simply sit down on the edge, bringing Inara with him and down into his lap. The new position gave him better access to explore: the kiss drifting to mouth at her jaw and throat instead, his hands settling on her hips.
He’d set aside the blaster-belt and jacket when they first came in for the drink; which left him in a rumpled shirt and trousers and hardy boots, purposefully generic and unmemorable, not too rich and not too poor. The benefit was that with most of yesterday’s disguise discarded, they wouldn’t have to wrangle a cloak and layers on layers of scarves and buckles and fastenings; he mostly just looked like Cassian today, not one of his coiffed alter egos.
It seemed that no matter how perfect things could be, or no matter how in control Inara strove to be, some bumps seemed to come along the way. It was more than fine for her really, as soon as his knee collided with the end table, she gave him a humorous glance and a subtle noise of empathy towards his plight. This was far better because it was real. In her line of work everything had to be perfect, organized, rigid, and structured to both protect herself and cater to the price point her clients were hiring her at. This time of freedom to just laugh and kiss, finding their way to the bed in such a passionate matter filled her heart with happiness and desire. This was far better— right on his lap, where she felt she belonged.
"I hope that didn't hurt too much....I'll make you feel better soon.", she managed to whisper against his ear before he began to kiss down against her skin. She was becoming more more hotter, each kiss leaving her flesh heated. Gently she flexed her neck, guiding him to where she wanted him to kiss her— right down to her clavicle. Once he did reach it, she moved her arms back, hands gripping at the back of her dress as she began to undo the zipper. Soon the fabric was falling off her torso, exposing her bare breasts.
"How about you kiss lower?", she purred, right hand coming around to gently touch the side of his face. He and he alone was going to see her at her most vulnerable tonight. He'd be the only one to know and see what she truly enjoyed in these moments of intimacy.
When the dress fell away so easily, exposing what felt like miles of warm bare skin, he could feel that jolt of attraction settling deeper and he paused to take in the sight, admiring. “I think,” Cassian said slowly, his words interrupted whenever he stopped to press a leisurely kiss to her throat, her clavicle, downward, “that could be arranged.”
And he took direction well in all things, it seemed, even this: the man was accustomed to being a weapon, to being turned and led and directed to enact violence, to get the job done. But this was a far more enjoyable task, with Inara in his lap and that low warmth in her voice, gently tilting his head where she wanted him to go. He followed willingly, pleased.
His hands splayed against the small of her back and braced against the curve of her spine, as he kept trailing downwards to map her now-exposed chest, before he finally reached the intended destination; he bent his head to one breast with the warm wet heat of his mouth, alternating sucking and then his tongue laving at a nipple, curling playfully around it.
She was a woman full of magnetizing appeal; soft on the eyes, graceful on the ears, and something many wished to own and possess for themselves. There was never a guest she had who could truly compel her to falter and find gentle purchase in their embrace for very long. The only person who could truly pull her from any emotional lulls and remaining sentiments she had for anyone else was Cassian. As she sat before his lap, she leaned back and showed him every inch of herself, hands and eyes gesturing him to truly drink up her appearance and indulge. It was a sentiment they both had mutually agreed upon and even if nothing else came from this encounter, this moment would be forever cherished by her. Pleasure and pain, co-existing as one was more than fine with her.
As his strong hands braced her, she closed her eyes gently and focused on the sensation of his coarse but warm lips against the bare skin of her breast, drawing and pulling forth a fluttering moan from her. Her hands in turn gripped his shoulders for support, gracefully holding him and feeling how much of a connection they had. There were times where it felt like she didn't have to say a word and he understood her. Other times he just helped her feel at ease, comfortable with simply existing. No need for displays of her skills, for desires or nothing else—
Ever since Bix left, he’d been subsisting on anonymous trysts where real names weren’t even exchanged — it was simpler, he always told himself that it was simpler to not get involved with anyone within the rebellion cells, where their loyalties might wind up divided — but there was something comforting in drifting to bed with a friend after all. Inara knew him. She’d be moaning his name by the end of the night, and vice versa, and not a pseudonym. There was trust in this: baring herself literally and figuratively for him, both of them letting their armour fall away, allowing themselves this indulgence.
Cassian was still fully-dressed but clearly didn’t seem to mind the disparity, with an appreciative hum against her breast, his stubble scraping against her skin as he mouthed and licked at her. His hands drifted lower, settling on the curve of her ass, and gave a warm squeeze; exploring her curves, the shape of her, grinding her into his lap. Positioned as she is, she could feel the hard ridge of his erection beneath her, already hopelessly turned-on.
It had been a while since he’d let this guard down with anyone. Sex was a personal distraction from the job, the responsibility, the missions, the war, but—
maybe they could let themselves have something nice, once in a while.
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So she swallowed down a bundle of saliva that had nervously accumulated in her mouth as she simply looked back at him and then forward, bringing her hand up towards the new and refreshed targets. Inara could feel his eyes burning into her, staring her down and yet she forced herself to return back to her usual state of being; in control. With a soft inhale, she began to warm up the device and aimed it forward, taking far longer this time before she shot. When she finally did, she was able to hit the target dead center but it was clear this wasn't ideal. It took her far too long to do it and on the battlefield it meant a certain doom.
With an exhale, she swung her arm down and turned towards him, nervously looking at him. "I'm too slow. I need to get better and faster."
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He went back to the holo-projector, pressed a few buttons, keyed in a different sequence, before returning to her. Now, only a single target shimmered into view once more.
“As soon as you hit the first one,” he explained, “another one will appear projected somewhere else. Don’t worry about getting a perfect bullseye with these. It’s about speed, hand-eye coordination. Follow your instincts, don’t overthink. It’ll get better with practice.”
It was a crisp, businesslike rundown, the sort of training he ran all the new recruits through at the base. But underneath it was a thread of care throughout, the whole reason he’d suggested this, the reason he encouraged Inara to learn; it was the best way of keeping her safe, and Cassian was neurotic about keeping his loved ones safe. He tended to hold them too close as-is. It was a constant point of contention with rebellion leadership, and it’d probably get him in trouble someday. But for now: he tried.
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Instead of focusing on that though, she gave him a quick and simple nod, turning her attention back to the target and held her arms up once more. This time she moved her body in a way that commanded control and firmness, head staring forward and focused, eyes wide and observant. As soon as a small alarm went off to indicate the machine was ready, she began to fire off quickly. Her aim was off at first, but with each new target coming in, she kept shooting faster and faster, hitting the target more accurately each time.
Finally when there were no more targets left, she put the safety on her device and swung her arms down, turning to face Cassian with a few beads of sweat dripping down her face.
“Again, I have to keep practicing.”
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Inara was starting to wear out, but Cassian took training deathly serious and never made it easy for a trainee; being lax was just the path to more rebels coming home swaddled in funerary cloth, their faces blown off, barely recognisable for their loved ones.
“Again,” he said, and keyed the sequence to start again, targets and locations randomised once more. It was like working out at the gym: you had to hit the wall and then keep going. Each time you’d be able to do it for longer.
But after another sequence, another round, more sweat on her temple and arms arching from holding up the gun, he finally relented: that stern shell of Captain Andor finally cracking and melting away, leaving only Cassian, her friend. He turned off the machine and reached out to lift the blaster out of Inara’s numb fingers, an apology almost on the tip of his tongue.
“Alright. That’s probably enough.” His eyes crinkled in a half-smile. “You’ll call me a heartless drill sergeant if I don’t let you take a break now.”
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Instead she moved her body with all of her might and lifted up the blaster again, aiming and waiting for the new sequence of targets to be prepared. Once they were, she began to fire off again, this time moving at a faster velocity than before and pushing herself to all of her limits. Her aim was much better, poised and in control but by the end of it, it was clear she was finally wearing herself out. Before she could do anything else though, the device was taken from her hands and she was left staring at the man beside her with a confused expression before she finally relented.
"I wouldn't, not when I wanted this but.....a break is good for the mind and soul, to keep me refreshed and alert. Shall we go into my suite for a drink then?"
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Cassian tucked away the blaster, back into his hip-slung holster. The late afternoon had been wearing on, red-soaked Bellerophon sunset eventually sinking around the floating island, the sky a painting. “That sounds great,” he said, warmly. “Haven’t seen this suite yet.”
He’d never visited Inara as a client, but he’d occasionally visited her various private quarters as a friend: expensive rooms scattered all across the galaxy, fancy parlours and soothing comfortable environments, a far cry from the grim environments he tended to live in while on mission. It’d be a nice place to relax.
He grabbed his jacket again, slung it over his shoulder, and he’ll tail her back indoors.
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she couldn't help but wonder if this was a mistake. Inviting him to her suite, but then again what made this day different than their past times together?
Shaking away the thought, when they finally came to her door, she turned towards him and offered a polite smile. "Don't be too surprised, my host allowed me to have the best room around. So drink to your heart's content, there's an open bar and other amenities. Given the nature of your....work well you should take advantage when you can." As she opened the door, she couldn't help but wonder if she should be saying those words to herself.
'Take advantage when you can', because really moments of passing bliss were rare and few among friends, or those who slowly began to fall further from that title.
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And some people in the resistance might have rankled at the disparity, the far cry between Inara’s rich world and theirs, but he knew not to hold it against her. She was still an ally. They had friends everywhere.
“I’m still never used to places like this,” he admitted, accepting her invitation and moving to the bar where he started to rustle through the glasses and bottles, looking for something to pour for both of them. “One of our leaders— she was a senator in the core worlds, grew up rich, she’s having a real shock adjusting to rebel life.”
It wasn’t really a secret anymore, so he could mention Mon Mothma’s involvement. The manka cat was out of the bag as soon as the senator ducked the Imperial warrant for her arrest and went on the run, openly broadcasting as one of the official leaders of the rebellion.
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"I can imagine she is, but the cause is far greater than the comfort of luxuries I presume.", her voice was soft and idle as she went about the room looking for a tray of grazing goods for them to enjoy. When she found a small and vintage looking tray, she lifted it up and brought it over to where Cassian was. Setting it down, she reached out to touch his hands gently, eyes lifting up to look at him.
"Please allow me to make you something, you are my guest after all. Unless you....have a new cocktail mix to show me?"
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For the longest time, he’d been cagey about sharing anyone else’s personal details in the rebellion; she’d only ever known that he shared quarters with another male rebel close to his own age, so it wasn’t until she crossed paths on them on a job that she finally got to meet the infamous Melshi, one of his best friends. They played cards and drank and were generally rambunctious bachelors when they weren’t being terrifically effective spies.
So at Inara’s invitation, Cassian stopped bustling around; this was her place, even temporary as it was, and hosting presumably ran even deeper in her instincts than his.
“All yours, Inara. Dealer’s choice.”
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Even if she had no true intentions of getting wrapped up, the closer she was to him [whether physically or through their friendship that only seemed to grow stronger], she was finding herself falling into something. The question was, was this what she wanted? Didn't she have something strange going on with Malcolm? Yet he never seemed to be into her, calling it a 'waste', pointless to start anything. Somewhere between those harsh words being spoken and now, she had set those feelings far from her. Still did that mean she was ready to move on? Should she?
She thought about those things in the brief moment she was standing before Cassian, hand finally escaping him before she turned towards the bar and began to work on serving herself from Corellian wine, and a more harder but sweet cocktail for her guest.
"You know, you don't have to stand around me. You can sit and relax, stretch your legs.....unless....you want to be near me.", she said, a near flirtatious tone in her voice.
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“Least I can do is keep you company while you’re making us drinks,” Cassian said lightly. And he might have left it at that, letting her hint just sit there unaddressed, but then he added knowingly: “The nice view’s a bonus.”
His flirtation had always been a gentle undercurrent to their interactions: it came easily, friendly with no expectations, a habit he carried even with total strangers. A way to put others at their ease and make them like him, because things were easier when people liked you. But the more that time went on and the more that Inara got to know him — the real him, or at least as close as he could get — and the more that she wasn’t just a passing face that he could forget in the morning… well, the riskier this all became. He hadn’t let himself care about anyone properly since Bix.
And yet he still found himself looking away from the risk, telling himself: this was fine. They deserved an indulgence, every once in a while. He could come here and share a drink with a friend and forget the war, just for a little bit.
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"Nice? I would say it's far better than nice.", she whispered, moving closer to him and nearly closing whatever gap there was between them. She placed her left hand on his shoulder, drink in her other hand as she looked at him with a soft passion in her eyes.
"I'm not usually the brazen type, but I'd argue I'm one of the best things about this place. The best view in this room."
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Strong but sweet, he thought. It wasn’t just about the drink.
The more cautious part of him was wary about pushing his luck and crossing this line, jeopardising one of his few friendships. But the other, greater part of him was warmed by the drink and the sunset and her company, and the constant awareness nagging at him that tomorrow’s mission might be his last, or the next, or the next. The future was never a guarantee. He might never make it back here to her side if his implausible luck finally ran out. He might never get to find out what this brewing something was between them. And if Cassian could dare to be brave and reckless on a mission when life called for it…
“You won’t find me complaining,” he finally said, still smiling. “Good thing I like brazen—”
And he took a second deep swig of his drink before setting it down on the sideboard, and leaning in to kiss her instead, free hand catching at Inara’s jaw, tasting the Corellian wine on her lips.
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It was for that reason she could be forgiving and understanding, accepting that whatever boundaries the two had tossed up amongst themselves, they could go back to where they've been if he wanted it. If he didn't, well she'd accept whatever this relationship would and was turning into—
as long as he still remained her friend at the end of the day and showed her the respect she asked for when it came to her line of work. That's all she needed and as she lingered close to him, she could sense they were about to cross a unique bridge together. Hand in hand, blind and foolish to the world outside of them perhaps but she was more than ready for it. So when the kiss came, rough but tender and filled with flavor, she simply leaned into it and pressed herself against him. This was the space they had created, a world for themselves beyond the confides of whatever was outside. Wars, work, injustice, her crew....his crew. This was their moment.
"How long have you been holding that back for?", she managed to say in between a small break from their kissing. Whether he answered her in time or not though, she was soon kissing him back, not moving her jaw from his hand at all. Only he, of all the people she had been with could touch her like this because he made her feel safe. It was his gift in this moment.
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Because most people would be jumping at the opportunity to be with someone like Inara, but he had been too cautious, too careful. It was probably time to stop worrying and fretting and simply take the leap. Take advantage when you can. It was the most clear-cut open door and invitation he’d ever gotten.
So he soon forgot all about the drinks; the kiss hungry and pent-up with all the restrained passion he’d been tamping down, every night they’d sat and talked into the late hours, every lingering goodbye which didn’t become more, every evening cut off before it could slip into an unwise decision, every time they’d hesitated over inviting him back to her shuttle or her back to whatever room he was living in for the cycle. But now they were finally here: Inara pressing herself closer, Cassian’s hands winding into her hair, his tongue and teeth against hers as they deepened the kiss.
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Just how many times did she wish she had done that before? Far too many to count, but the reminder of her own hesitations soon began to slip from her mind as he began to kiss her once more, leaving her breathless and hungry for so much more. It was cruel to deny each other what they wanted when life was fleeting, war loomed ahead, and tomorrow could possibly never come. So she wrapped her arms around him, pulling and yearning as she tugged him close and began to guide him towards the bed in the room. Their footsteps were in unison, careful and leading, soft whimpering moans escaping her lips as they went on.
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He’d set aside the blaster-belt and jacket when they first came in for the drink; which left him in a rumpled shirt and trousers and hardy boots, purposefully generic and unmemorable, not too rich and not too poor. The benefit was that with most of yesterday’s disguise discarded, they wouldn’t have to wrangle a cloak and layers on layers of scarves and buckles and fastenings; he mostly just looked like Cassian today, not one of his coiffed alter egos.
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"I hope that didn't hurt too much....I'll make you feel better soon.", she managed to whisper against his ear before he began to kiss down against her skin. She was becoming more more hotter, each kiss leaving her flesh heated. Gently she flexed her neck, guiding him to where she wanted him to kiss her— right down to her clavicle. Once he did reach it, she moved her arms back, hands gripping at the back of her dress as she began to undo the zipper. Soon the fabric was falling off her torso, exposing her bare breasts.
"How about you kiss lower?", she purred, right hand coming around to gently touch the side of his face. He and he alone was going to see her at her most vulnerable tonight. He'd be the only one to know and see what she truly enjoyed in these moments of intimacy.
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And he took direction well in all things, it seemed, even this: the man was accustomed to being a weapon, to being turned and led and directed to enact violence, to get the job done. But this was a far more enjoyable task, with Inara in his lap and that low warmth in her voice, gently tilting his head where she wanted him to go. He followed willingly, pleased.
His hands splayed against the small of her back and braced against the curve of her spine, as he kept trailing downwards to map her now-exposed chest, before he finally reached the intended destination; he bent his head to one breast with the warm wet heat of his mouth, alternating sucking and then his tongue laving at a nipple, curling playfully around it.
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As his strong hands braced her, she closed her eyes gently and focused on the sensation of his coarse but warm lips against the bare skin of her breast, drawing and pulling forth a fluttering moan from her. Her hands in turn gripped his shoulders for support, gracefully holding him and feeling how much of a connection they had. There were times where it felt like she didn't have to say a word and he understood her. Other times he just helped her feel at ease, comfortable with simply existing. No need for displays of her skills, for desires or nothing else—
All she needed was him.
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Cassian was still fully-dressed but clearly didn’t seem to mind the disparity, with an appreciative hum against her breast, his stubble scraping against her skin as he mouthed and licked at her. His hands drifted lower, settling on the curve of her ass, and gave a warm squeeze; exploring her curves, the shape of her, grinding her into his lap. Positioned as she is, she could feel the hard ridge of his erection beneath her, already hopelessly turned-on.
It had been a while since he’d let this guard down with anyone. Sex was a personal distraction from the job, the responsibility, the missions, the war, but—
maybe they could let themselves have something nice, once in a while.