You were Flynn's escape. At first he had picked you up just so you wouldn't get killed, but over the months you were on the ship, you had warmed up to him.

He had found himself indulging in you. Stress relief, you'd tell yourself. It was nights together, then mornings, then showers, then sometimes right when he came back, on the counter, the wall, the couch.

After a particularly long session, he didn't even bother cleaning the both of you up, and gods, did it get messy, but he just pulled you to his chest and slept. You'd probably take a shower the next morning, and do it again too, but whatever.

You had woken up to him staring at you, your leg hooked one of his, tangling them together, his fingers tracing shapes into your skin almost lovingly.

He wanted to tell you he was done with this being a causal lay kind of thing and more of a relationship with commitment. He wanted to love you. He wanted you to look him in his eyes when he took you so you could see how much he cares about you.