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Jyn smacked her palm against the wall and the overhead light buzzed on, harsh and unflattering. Not that anything could have made the small tenement room look good: the carpet was worn, the walls were grimy, and Cassian didn’t want to think about what stains might be on the sagging mattress. He certainly wasn't going to pull back the threadbare blanket to check.
It was still cleaner than the two of them. Holding himself stiffly upright, he carefully did not limp over to the frosted plasteel door that concealed the fresher, and prayed.
For once his hope was rewarded. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. The tiny cubicle was built like a ship’s fresher: lined in seamless metal, all the fixtures unbreakable and waterproof—because it wasn’t a sonic. This building was so ancient and backward they hadn’t bothered to convert the water-based plumbing. For washing, there was a spigot on the wall and a rusty shower head hanging from the ceiling directly over a square grate set into the middle of the floor.
Cassian caught a glimpse of his face in the plastic mirror and winced. His skin was waxy, colourless everywhere but for the dark circles under his red eyes and the dirt smeared across his forehead. He hadn’t taken any serious damage, just a few knocks and scrapes, but his body felt like it was about to collapse under its own weight. His shoulders were sagging and he looked spent. He drew in a ragged breath and straightened, trying to pull himself together.
Jyn’s footsteps scuffed across the carpet and her arms curled around him from behind. The thought came to Cassian, still a surprise every time, that he didn’t need to hide the fact that he was tired and hurting—not from her. He leaned back slightly, settling against her, and she tightened her grip around his waist.
“Need a shower,” she mumbled into his back, stating the obvious, and started to work at the fastening of his belt. He let her peel off his pants, and ducked his head so she could drag his shirt off before he turned to do the same for her. They tossed their stinking clothes in a corner where water draining from the shower could rinse them out unassisted; the thought of touching them right now was repellent.
Naked, Jyn shook out her hair before she stepped into the fresher and cranked the handle hard to one side. Pipes groaned and the shower head spat a stuttering stream of cold water; she shivered as the spray hit her breasts and the hair rose on her arms. Ruddy marks on her back showed where she’d have darkening bruises by tomorrow.
Cassian followed her, sliding the door shut behind him. He didn't pause to think. He let his exhausted, aching body fall toward what it craved—Jyn, always Jyn—moved in close and clutched her tight around her waist. Water streamed over him, plastering his hair into his eyes as he rested his chin on her head. When the spray hit the raw scrape on his right forearm he hissed at the burning sting.
The water was finally beginning to warm up, or maybe he was just getting used to the temperature. Cassian sighed into the top of Jyn's head. If it wouldn’t mean drowning, he could probably fall asleep right here standing up.
Jyn turned in his arms, flattening her hands along his back to hold him tight against her, and lifted her head to kiss him. At first it was sweet, achingly tender, just soft brushes of lips and shared breath. But Jyn didn’t hide her intentions. Her hands slid down his back and gripped his hips, pulling him in even closer, her tongue in his mouth hotter, more demanding, coaxing him to rise against her. So little time together and she’d already learned how to make him shudder, draw his pulse beating hard to the surface of his skin.
Cassian already knew the adrenaline rush of sex, the electric thrill; it was better with Jyn—in the way most things were better with her—but still familiar. What he had never had before, and still found too precious to think about most of the time, was the comfort of being caressed like this: slow, patient, generous. Being able to give himself over completely into someone else’s hands, and trust that they would hold him with care.
But he was filthy with dirt and soot and blood, only some of it his own. He didn’t want to touch Jyn until he was clean. He drew back, kissing her temple, and cupped his hand against the back of her neck, combing his fingers through the wet strands of her hair.
Reluctantly, he stepped away from Jyn, reached out for a handful of cheap soap from the dispenser bolted to the wall and scrubbed it over his body, quick and clinical. He looked down as the water trickling into the drain turned grey with runoff dirt.
Jyn didn't protest; she just filled her own hands with soap and ran them over him in slow circles, thorough but gentle. She lifted his arm to inspect the long, raw graze, turning it under the spray until she was satisfied it was clean. “Sealant on that when we get back to the ship,” she told him, and he nodded. She washed every scratch on his face and neck with delicate care. And then she stroked her palms across his shoulders, down his flanks, her rough hands moving over him so softly that it melted all the pain away.
Cassian rubbed more soap into a lather between his hands and reached out to her in return. He used the lightest touch on the reddening skin on her shoulders, didn’t put any pressure on the barely scabbed-over scratches on her arms. She sighed and tipped her forehead into his chest as he smoothed his fingers over her sleek wet skin in long sweeps from her nape to the curve of her thighs. Her nipples brushed lightly against his chest. The sensation made him ache to touch them with his hands, his mouth… but not just yet.
He turned her around to work soap through her hair, combing it back with his fingers, watching her eyelids droop shut in relaxation. He drew his hands over the round of her skull, pressing the suds out of her hair.
She leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder, slung an arm up and hooked it behind his neck. Then she reached down and curled her other hand around his cock where it pressed hard between them, signalling that she was done waiting.
“In a minute,” he said hoarsely, grabbing her impatient hand and moving it away. He slipped one arm around her waist, dragged his hand up the line of her ribs and she arched into his fingers when he cupped them over her breast. He traced lazy spirals and loops over her skin, circling her nipples but never touching them, and waited until she was so distracted by one hand she forgot about the other until he slid it between her legs.
"Oh, fuck," she gasped, and threw her head back, nearly hitting him in the mouth. "Fuck, Cassian."
He kept stroking slowly, both hands skimming up and down over the planes of her body until she was squirming against him, their wet skin sliding frictionless along each other. She turned in his arms and her fingers dug into his biceps as she pulled herself up on her toes to kiss him greedily. Then she grabbed his right hand and brought it down, pressing it hard against her, their tangled fingers dipping into the heat inside her, warmer than the water falling around them.
Cassian swallowed her moans and her ragged breath as she ground against his hand. He wanted to drop to his knees and taste her, but he was afraid that if he did he wouldn’t be able to get back up. He stepped forward, pressing her against the wall to get out of the direct stream of water—still only lukewarm, but he didn’t care. The tiny box of a room was warm enough from the gathering humidity and their body heat.
Jyn tilted her head back, gasping, and a bead of water trickled down the slope of her chest to the tip of her breast, hanging there temptingly. Cassian bent his head and caught it with his tongue, drawing her nipple into his mouth and listening to the moan build in her lungs. He felt her come around his fingers, shuddering and panting, her hand threading into his hair to hold him at her breast until she stopped trembling.
When he raised his head to look at her, chest still heaving and shaking, her eyes were wide and glassy: lambent green and speckled gold, oceans, galaxies, so much life shining in them that Cassian couldn’t speak. He cupped her face in his hands, lifting her chin, and kissed her again. He didn't know whether Jyn would understand it, but he tried to tell her everything with that kiss: all the things he hadn’t said to her yet but wanted to, all the things he needed to say to her but couldn’t, and all the things he’d probably never manage to say in time.
Jyn pulled back and smiled at him, soft and sensual. One hand cupped his cheek, her thumb caressing his mouth—and the other drifted down to grip his cock. His hips rose and he bucked into her hand before he could catch himself. She pulled gently from base to tip, twisting her wrist on the way back down, and his whole body shook. Kissing him hungrily, she skimmed her other hand down over his chest, scratching, teasing, tweaking. She stroked him again, exploring which angles and rhythms got the best response as he twitched helplessly in her grip.
She reached out to fill her free hand with soap before slipping it down the length of him, slick and tight, both hands taking him in a firm hold now. “Jyn...” he groaned, his voice gone raw, and thrust erratically into her hands. She found a steady rhythm and her strokes were slow, drawn-out, the callouses on her palm against his flesh agonizingly pleasurable. But what made him lose control in the end was the trail of short, soft kisses she dropped along his jaw and across his cheek, the small hum of pleasure he heard in her throat, as though this made her feel good, as though she wanted to touch him—
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, gasping, watching her hands move on him and in three more strokes his hips were jerking, his cock pulsing and spilling over her fists.
His mind went blank and fuzzy with pleasure. All Cassian could hear was the water spattering around them, their harsh breathing bouncing off the metal walls. All he could feel was her skin warm and smooth and slippery against him.
Now that the tension of arousal was released, his exhaustion returned in full force and he leaned more heavily into Jyn, pressing her against the wall. Her hand lifted to knead the top of his spine, digging into his neck, and all the muscles in his body sagged in total relaxation.
With the other hand Jyn flailed behind her for the handle, turning the flow of water off. But instead of pulling away to open the fresher door, she laid her head back on his shoulder and looped her arms around him with a sigh.
Cassian’s answering sigh reverberated through his whole body, down to the bones of his feet. He felt wholly clean for the first time in days—years. Something about Jyn mended his broken pieces, washing regrets and tactics and contingency plans from his mind (however temporarily). She made him feel as though he wasn’t beyond repair.