strumpet: (Default)
inara serra (the ambassador) ([personal profile] strumpet) wrote2025-03-10 02:58 pm
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interroga: (009.)

[personal profile] interroga 2026-04-07 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
Cassian detached from her breast with a wet pop, her fingers curling into his hair and pulling him back up to her face, drifting back up to where he could look at her expression, his own dark eyes thoughtful.

Inaraโ€™s work was her work, just as his work was his — their bodies were both used for a purpose — but this particular angle wasnโ€™t one heโ€™d ever stopped to consider before. That certain elements of sex might have become too calculated and artificial for her: that Inara was always in such rigid control over what happened. Her evenings literally contracted, negotiated, planned out, scheduled.

So maybe she could do with a bit of impulsive spontaneity tonight. Less work, more play.

โ€œOkay,โ€ Cassian said, voice murmured against her jaw before another lingering kiss. He was going to be feeling it out both literally and figuratively, getting a sense for what she liked. (He had never, of course, seen a copy of Inaraโ€™s actual companion contract. Wouldnโ€™t have been able to afford it.)

โ€œJust tell me to stop if thereโ€™s anything you donโ€™t like.โ€

And thenโ€” he stood up, arms under her thighs and bracing her lower back, fully picking her up to pivot them around onto that massive bed. He had no idea how much it mustโ€™ve cost; probably something like a yearโ€™s salary on Ferrix. It was really comfortable, though, and spacious enough that he could lay her out on that luxurious mattress, his hands against the edges of the unzipped dress which was already half-falling off her, tugging it loose the rest of the way. His mouth followed the path: past her clavicle this time, past her breasts and the arch of her ribs, pausing to mouth at her navel, then onwards. Lower.