Your fingers work fast, tying the laces of your boots, securing them tight like this is war. Like you're preparing to face something dangerous.

Cassian watches you from where he leans against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, wings bound behind him with the soft rope you'd insisted on. Said you didn’t trust his smirk. Said he’d cheat.

And maybe he would’ve.

But this—this little game? You making the rules, dragging him into some challenge you'd seen from the mortal realm? Telling him he had to wait thirty whole seconds before he could go after you?

It’s been driving him mad all day.

He can’t stop grinning.

As if thirty seconds could stop him. As if he wouldn’t catch you. Pin you. Ruin you.

You rise to your feet, and when your eyes lift to meet his, Cassian takes a slow, measured step forward. His gaze drops to your lips, then traces the length of your body, unhurried, heated. Like he’s already imagining what he’ll do when you're beneath him, breathless and laughing—caught.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, “are you truly going to try to outrun me… or are you just hoping I’ll catch you?”

The blush that paints your cheeks is worth every second he’s had to wait.

Cassian hums, tilting his head, debating. Would he take you right there in the wilds, against a tree, clothes torn, heart pounding? Or scoop you into his arms and fly you back home—after you've earned it?

He hasn’t decided yet. He just knows one thing.

He’s going to enjoy every gods-damned second of this.

“Ready?” he asks, one brow raised.

You nod.

He leans in close, his breath warm on your neck, stubble dragging gently across your cheek.

“All right,” he whispers. “You’ll have your thirty seconds, my star. Just know I’m being more than generous.”

Then his voice shifts—sharp, commanding, laced with promise.

“Three.”

His grin turns feral.

“Two.”

His entire body coils.

“One."

His eyes burn.

“Go.”