With that thought, Cassian pressed the pill into his lips, willing himself to open his mouth but his jaw locked up so hard it was borderline painful. It hadn’t been hard in the rush of adrenaline knowing the alliance was at stake, even easier when he begged for mercy from a man who didn’t have any, but now it felt he was obliged to swallow a sack of sand.
Do it, Cassian.
He opened his mouth and let the pill slipped in. It rested on his tongue, cold and hard as stone. Cassian rolled his tongue, working his throat muscle to swallow when—
“Cassian?”
He spluttered, spitting the pill back to his hand. “Who’s that?”
The door creaked and slammed open, almost hitting Cassian in the process. Outside, standing there like a hero of his dream was a man in Imperial uniform. Cassian’s heart fell.
“I’m the pilot.” The man in uniform blurted out, swinging his blazer aside. “We need to go.”
“Pilot? What pilot?”
He looked exasperated. “The one Galen Erso sent? I’m with the rebels, or whatever you call yourself this day. Come on, your droid’s outside fighting off the troopers.”
Fifteen minutes later Cassian sank to the floor of his—his—ship, shaking with adrenaline. K-2 offered some snarky comment with barely veiled concern and relief. This man, Bodhi, sat down next to him and offered to clean up his wounds.
This…this didn’t add up. Things weren’t supposed to work this way. Cassian had never been this lucky. There must be something he should pay for this, and he wasn’t sure if he could right now.
“I can’t pay you.” He mumbled, pulling his hand away from Bodhi. “Not right now.”
Bodhi looked confused. He tried to take Cassian’s hand again but Cassian batted him away.
“I’m a damaged good.” He gestured to his body, frustrated that his savior couldn’t understand such a simple thing. Weren’t his wounds visible enough? “I can’t pay you back right now.”
He didn’t know if it was understanding or pity that he saw in Bodhi’s eyes, but it was galaxies away from the look he saw in Ted’s eyes, or Drouth, or…whoever it was in his cell. K-2 mumbled from the cockpit, muttering about the risk of mental trauma after prolonged imprisonment.
“You don’t have to pay me.” Bodhi tried but stopped at the look Cassian gave him. “Or…you can just rest now. I won’t, uh, help you if you don’t want me to but…isn’t sleep sounds good?”
Yes. Yes, it did.
He accepted the cup and gulped it down in a take. It wasn’t even a minute when his eyelids started getting heavy. Bodhi watched him carefully.
“You’re going somewhere?” He slurred.
“Do you want me to?”
Cassian hummed, letting his eyes dropped. “No.”
“Then I won’t.” Bodhi shifted and somehow managed to maneuver Cassian until his head lying on his lap. “Go to sleep, Captain. Everything is under control.”
And that, Cassian decided, was the best thing he ever heard before unconsciousness took him over.
Re: FILL: Cassian/other, prostitution for the alliance (4/4)
Cassian, you spineless coward.
With that thought, Cassian pressed the pill into his lips, willing himself to open his mouth but his jaw locked up so hard it was borderline painful. It hadn’t been hard in the rush of adrenaline knowing the alliance was at stake, even easier when he begged for mercy from a man who didn’t have any, but now it felt he was obliged to swallow a sack of sand.
Do it, Cassian.
He opened his mouth and let the pill slipped in. It rested on his tongue, cold and hard as stone. Cassian rolled his tongue, working his throat muscle to swallow when—
“Cassian?”
He spluttered, spitting the pill back to his hand. “Who’s that?”
The door creaked and slammed open, almost hitting Cassian in the process. Outside, standing there like a hero of his dream was a man in Imperial uniform. Cassian’s heart fell.
“I’m the pilot.” The man in uniform blurted out, swinging his blazer aside. “We need to go.”
“Pilot? What pilot?”
He looked exasperated. “The one Galen Erso sent? I’m with the rebels, or whatever you call yourself this day. Come on, your droid’s outside fighting off the troopers.”
Fifteen minutes later Cassian sank to the floor of his—his—ship, shaking with adrenaline. K-2 offered some snarky comment with barely veiled concern and relief. This man, Bodhi, sat down next to him and offered to clean up his wounds.
This…this didn’t add up. Things weren’t supposed to work this way. Cassian had never been this lucky. There must be something he should pay for this, and he wasn’t sure if he could right now.
“I can’t pay you.” He mumbled, pulling his hand away from Bodhi. “Not right now.”
Bodhi looked confused. He tried to take Cassian’s hand again but Cassian batted him away.
“I’m a damaged good.” He gestured to his body, frustrated that his savior couldn’t understand such a simple thing. Weren’t his wounds visible enough? “I can’t pay you back right now.”
He didn’t know if it was understanding or pity that he saw in Bodhi’s eyes, but it was galaxies away from the look he saw in Ted’s eyes, or Drouth, or…whoever it was in his cell. K-2 mumbled from the cockpit, muttering about the risk of mental trauma after prolonged imprisonment.
“You don’t have to pay me.” Bodhi tried but stopped at the look Cassian gave him. “Or…you can just rest now. I won’t, uh, help you if you don’t want me to but…isn’t sleep sounds good?”
Yes. Yes, it did.
He accepted the cup and gulped it down in a take. It wasn’t even a minute when his eyelids started getting heavy. Bodhi watched him carefully.
“You’re going somewhere?” He slurred.
“Do you want me to?”
Cassian hummed, letting his eyes dropped. “No.”
“Then I won’t.” Bodhi shifted and somehow managed to maneuver Cassian until his head lying on his lap. “Go to sleep, Captain. Everything is under control.”
And that, Cassian decided, was the best thing he ever heard before unconsciousness took him over.