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Let Me Put It On Your Mind

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People are generally surprised to learn that Cassian's an old-fashioned guy.


Don't get him wrong. He's not prudish, by any means. But he does suppose that he is, relatively speaking, more conservative than most of his peers.


He still prefers to email someone he's talking to for the first time, rather than text.


He still believes the man should be the one to pay for dinner — not because of archaic gender stereotypes, but just as a general compensation type thing for the enduring, unjust imbalances in society today, like the wage gap.  


He still carries physical name cards, which, okay, he didn't know had even stopped being a thing anymore up until about a month ago. (Apparently now you're just supposed to, like, scan some shit on your phone? Whatever, he doesn't even want to know.)


Which is why when he meets Jyn, he finds himself significantly surprised by how much he doesn't change.


It's strange, really. Especially when he thinks about how Jyn is easily the most untraditional person he's ever met.


She's been living on her own since she was fifteen years old, for one. She's never so much as set foot in a proper office in her life, for another. She goes to Starbucks for their food, but never, ever for their coffee.


"It's not supposed to work," Kay had insisted, when he and Jyn were about four months into dating. "By all accounts, your personalities and preferences don't fit. Statistically speaking, the two of you barely even exist in the same tangential plane."


Cassian had merely smiled then. He hadn't seen much point in responding then.


Not when he already knew, without a doubt, that before long, he and Jyn would be married.


(Also because he knew it would have been slightly creepy of him to say that out loud about a woman he'd only known for four months.)


Try that for the 'same tangential plane'.


Even so, their friends had been surprised to learn that they were planning wait till they were married to move in together.


(Not for sex, though. Cassian's a gentleman, but he's still a man.)


(Also, he's pretty sure Jyn would strangle him with her bare hands if he'd even suggested it.)


But now, eighteen months down the road, it's finally happening.


Well. It's happening tomorrow, at least.


"I told you we should've called Kay and Bodhi," Cassian says, smiling as he watches Jyn struggle with slicing a large box open. "When you said you were gonna bring some more stuff over, I didn't think you meant a whole carful."


"I don't want anymore 'help' from Kay, if that's what he calls it," Jyn huffs, tearing the flaps open. "I'm taking part in a wedding tomorrow. My wedding. I'm stressed enough without having to listen to him evaluate all my stuff."


"Bodhi would have been helpful," Cassian points out, nimbly swiping the large scissors out of Jyn's reach.


"If we'd told Bodhi to come over, Bodhi would have told Kay," Jyn retorts, rooting around in the box. "He's too delicate to keep secrets."


Cassian chuckles, dropping a kiss onto her head as he passes her by. "Anything I should start with in particular?"


Jyn casts a distracted glance at him. "Yeah, maybe those?" she says, gesturing towards a couple of medium-sized boxes. "Pretty sure those are the last of my books."


He bites back a grin, already bending to slice one open. "You know, just because you store your DVDs on bookshelves doesn't mean you can actually call them books."


Jyn makes a shushing sound, one arm buried deep in the box in front of her. "You know, I would have invited Kay if I wanted more uninvited opinions on my— whoa!"


Cassian cranes his head around at her exclamation. "What's th—"


The rest of his sentence dies in his throat, his jaw dropping wide open at the sight of the items dangling from Jyn's hands. Items that look alarmingly like—


"My stockings!" Jyn says, cheeks flushed pink through her breathless grin. "And my garter belt!"


If Cassian had to describe his mental state right now, it would probably be something very similar to TV static.


"Your—" he starts to say. He stops, and clears his throat. "Your... what?"


Jyn barely even seems to have heard him. "Oh, wow," she marvels, turning them over in her hands, "I really thought I'd lost these!"


Dial tone. Whatever the sound is that's currently blaring in his head, the only way he can describe it is dial tone.


"Wha—" He pauses. Shaking his head, he stands up properly, turning to face her. "Er, why do you have… those?"


Jyn lowers her head, inspecting the delicate material of the stockings. "Oh, I got them for this Halloween party back in university." She laughs, glancing up at him. "Oh my God, that was the one where Bodhi—" She stops, noticing his arrested expression. "Cassian? Everything okay?"


All of his psychomotor skills seem to have gone to shot. He can't even order himself to inhale properly right now.


"Sorry, what—" He breaks off, licking at his dry lips. "Who were you dressing up as?"


Jyn shrugs, matter-of-fact. "Dita Von Teese."


Dita Von


An image instantly flashes up in his brain: two creamy, shapely legs wrapped in soft, translucent stockings, the thick lines of the black garter belt a stark contrast against twin pillars of fair skin, climbing up to a slender waist encased in a leather bustier, the neckline of which just barely concealing two round, inviting globes of flesh, the deepened valley between them calling to him as they lead up, up, up, past delicate collarbones and a slim neck, to a set of full, pouty lips he knows so well — only now they're painted red, the darkest red he's ever seen, slightly parted as above them, two large, black-rimmed eyes stare back at him, the familiar sage green of the irises gleaming even brighter through the soft, smoky makeup, perfectly framed by a thick curtain of dark, flawlessly coiffed curls, cascading over one side of that lovely, lovely face.


Dios mío.


Cassian blinks.


And then notices that his fiancée is standing right in front of him, brows furrowed in concern.


"Hello?" she calls, waving her free hand in his face. "Are you all right? Do you need something? Some water? A slap in the face?" 


She pauses, her nose scrunching. "Please say slap in the face, I've always wanted to—"


The rest of her musings are cut off by his lips crashing onto hers, her lips parting in surprise when his arms band around her waist, practically crushing her to him in his haste.


It takes less than a second for Jyn to respond, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him walk her backwards into the counter separating the living room from the kitchen.


He doesn't waste any time pressing her into it, a thrill coiling deliciously in his gut at the sound of her needy moan. The sound prompts him to grind his hips into hers, hard and urgent, so that she's bending back over the counter slightly.  


A breathless laugh escapes her when he finally pulls back, both of them panting desperately for air.


"Well," she says, the unmistakable tremor of heady arousal evident in her voice despite her nonchalant tone, "I think I know what I'm wearing tomorrow night."