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Cassian has an infuriating habit of touching his mouth when he’s deep in thought. It might help his concentration, but it does nothing for Jyn’s.
He’s doing it right now while he sits at the foot of his bed, leaning against the wall and reading the latest batch of intelligence analyses on his datapad. Jyn is sprawled full-length across the mattress, trying to review her squad’s mission report for approval. But she loses her place in the document every few seconds because she can’t stop looking over at what Cassian’s hands are doing.
She watches his index finger bump absently over the notch in his upper lip, flattening it out. Then he props his elbow on his knee and rests his thumb against his bottom lip, denting its fullness and pressing it into his teeth. The faint downward arc at the corners of his mouth deepens.
Enough. Jyn drops her datapad to the floor and shuffles across the creaking bunk on her knees.
“Cassian.”
“Hmmm?” He looks up, distracted. When he sees how close she is, the curve of his mouth reverses, forming a smile instead.
“I’m done with my report. I want a kiss.”
“No, you’re not,” he contradicts her, though the smile on his face only brightens. “You’re a terrible liar.”
She reaches for his right hand, tugging it toward her. “I’m not lying about wanting a kiss.”
She runs her thumb across the ridge of his scarred knuckles before she lifts his hand to her mouth and follows the same path with her lips, gently sealing them over each knurl of bone. Her mouth drifts across the back of his hand to the blunt point where his wristbone stretches the skin taut.
“Then kiss me.” His voice is low, not quite an order but definitely more than a plea.
Jyn can’t resist the urge to tease him a little. She looks up, grinning against the skin of his wrist. “What do you think I’m doing?” The crisp hair on his arm ruffles with goosebumps when she breathes out over it.
Turning his hand over, she pulls his arm closer so that she can trail her tongue along the raised line of the tendon running down his forearm to his wrist. She brushes her lips over the fleshy pad at the base of his thumb, licks a suggestive circle in the centre of his palm. His hand twitches in hers. She brings the tip of his thumb to her mouth, parting her lips around it and sucking delicately, just enough to wet the skin. She scrapes her teeth along the underside as she pulls it out of her mouth, dragging it over her bottom lip.
Cassian’s breath is faster, his eyes look darker. “Kiss me,” he repeats, a little hoarse.
She kisses the tip of his index finger. “Don’t rush me.”
She repeats the process slowly with every finger of Cassian’s right hand, drawing them into her mouth and curling her tongue around them. By the time she gets to his little finger, his eyes are shut and he’s tilted closer, unconsciously canting toward her. She puts his hand down on her leg and his fingers clench on the muscle of her thigh. Reaching up, she cups his face in both hands and slides her fingers into his hair. Cassian sighs and his mouth parts as she leans in toward him.
At the last moment, when she can feel his breath on her lips, she pulls aside—kisses his jaw up to his ear, across his cheek to the soft creases at the corner of his eye and over his brow. Cassian groans, trying to turn his head and reach her lips, but she twists away, laughing.
Then he lunges, or maybe just topples forward, and she’s pinned beneath his warm weight, though he’s careful not to crush her. Still laughing, she squirms under him as he presses his lips to her throat and has his revenge.