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inara serra (the ambassador) ([personal profile] strumpet) wrote2025-03-10 02:58 pm
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[personal profile] interroga 2025-08-26 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
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.