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They are fighting again and Kylo is beyond sick of it. He's always pulled his punches with her. He's never truly wanted to hurt her.
He's always given her ground, allowed her to set the tone of the fight between them, but now he's just done.
His blows are harder and faster than in the past. He's using both arms now, swings with his full strength and feels her body tiring after each parry. He can feel her legs shaking and her arms screaming in protest with every lunge and thrust.
She's not able to match him in raw strength, in power. No, her body is tried and she's fighting to not give in. He slows down the speed of his strikes, let's her rest briefly after each clash. Let's the exhaustion sink in deeper.
The next blow and her knees buckle.
He stops mid-swing and watches her. So beautiful and so bewildered at how she can't defeat him.
They both know the fight is over, but she can't admit it. Her pride won't let her. It has always been a problem they both share. She tries a clumsy swing from her knees and he gives no mercy as he brings his saber down against hers. The strike does as he intended, knocking the saber from her hand.
She cries out, shielding herself from the death blow she fears is coming.
But he could never hurt her.
Instead, he stands there, staring at her on her knees before him. The sight is a heady thing to him. Possession stirs and he is drunk on the power he holds.
"Yield."
She says nothing, just stays there on her knees.
He stalked towards her and she forced herself to stay still, but she has to fight her body to not tremble before him. He reaches down and runs his fingers through her hair, pulling it free from the intricate buns she had it styled in. He watches as her hair tumbles free, down her back and slips through his gloved fingers.
"Yield, Rey. We're done fighting."
Sometime later
He's in his throne room, finally finished with the day's duties. He's looking forward to a meal, a hot bath, and a drink.
He enters his chambers to see she is still lounging on the bed. Since her chain only allows her so much room to roam, he supposes the bed is the best place for her to lounge.
She doesn't acknowledge him when he enters. One of her little acts of defiance, but he's found the best way to deal with that.
He stops beside her, his fingertips tracing up her bare hip and over her arm. Her skin pebbles beneath his touch as he moves up to pet and stroke her hair.
She tries to ignore it, but her pleasure hums through their bond. He's learned what makes her happy, even if she steadfastly refuses to accept it.
"I'm going to take a bath, my love. Join me."
She doesn't move when he walks away, but he knows she'll come. The lure of so much warm water, as well as the insatiable pull between them, means she'll be in the bathroom by the time he's settling into the tub.
She pads in softly, her chain dragging behind her. She removes the flimsy wrappings she wears, letting the material drop to the floor. She doesn't care about her clothing and he doesn't either.
She walked to the sunken lip of the tub, her foot unerringly finding the steps, slowly lowering herself into the steaming water. He is ready to rub soap over her, massaging her arms and sides as he lathers her up. He uses the precise amount of pressure she wants as he washes her hair and body. She, in turn, washes him, rubbing her hands over his back and up his legs. Her eyes are always closed when she touches him.
Another act of defiance.
But he can crack that defiance, he just has to catch her off guard.
When she's leaning over him to grab the shampoo, he captures her hips, his hands sliding up her thighs to pull her against him. Her gasp is his reward and the way she squirms over his lap is beyond precious to him. She never fails to react to his body, even now after he's held her captive. Their bond will not allow for them to not enjoy the touch of the other.
He lifts her high above him, holding her waist in his hands and brings the junction of her thighs to his mouth. He loses himself in the feel of her under his tongue.
Her taste has always been sweet to him and he'd been addicted from the first moment his tongue had touched her skin. She writhes and her fingers knot in his hair, pushing him closer as she sinks down on top of him.
He lets her push his head under, latching his mouth around her and sucking deeply at her.
He can hold his breath for a long time, doubling the time if he uses the force. The challenge is to see if he can make her cum before he needs to come up for air. They've played this game before, another one of her petty defiances and he reveals in making her lose this game.
All too soon she's shaking and bucking as he sucks her through her first orgasm.
He comes up taking great lungfuls of air, but he couldn't care less about the spots in his vision, the only thing that matters is making her cum again. He lifts her out of the water, both of them dripping as he carries her to a chair.
He sets her on her feet before he sits down.
He spreads his legs and waits for her to straddle his hips. She doesn't look at him as she climbs into his lap, her perfect ass resting against his erection. He reaches down to stroke over her, parting her lips and dipping a finger inside. She's not wet enough to take him and he's happy to help. He stands, clutching her to him, walking them over to the bed. He lays her down and crawls between her legs, before diving in for a second time.
He is relentless, winding her up and up with no intention of letting her cum until he's buried inside her. Higher and higher he drives her, stopping when she gets too close. She's getting frustrated now, clawing at the sheets, his shoulders, and arms, anything she can get her hands on.
He pushes a finger into her, gently prodding to see if she's wet enough for him. His finger slips in with little resistance and he tries two. That gets a gasp out of her and she's bucking her hips, trying to fuck herself on his hand. He knows she enjoys his cock, but her pride makes her try to get as much out of each time as she can. Her own little case of one-upmanship with him, another defiance.
"You can cum again my love, but it will be on my cock," he said as he removes his fingers and sits up, pulling her hips to his. He spares a moment to rub the tip into her, coating himself in her wetness before he starts to push into her.
She's tight, hot and perfect. Always perfect for him.
He slowly works himself deeper, listening to her gasps and moans. Her eyes are squeezed shut as he starts to bounce her hips off his. The growing sound of wet flesh hitting wet flesh fills the room. He's holding her up under her lower back, bending her and pulling her harder against his thrusts.
He's found that perfect rhythm and angle, hitting deeply and ramming his cock head over her frontal wall, pummeling her g-spot with each thrust and dragging over it with each retreat. He can feel the way she's tightening, the strange urge to release her bladder, even though it's empty. He knows if he can keep putting pressure there, she'll spasm and clench up and once the orgasm starts, it won't stop until he stops.
He wants her screaming his name, he doesn't care which. Just as long as she's clenching him and sobbing in pleasure when she does it, he'll let her call him that name.
Soon he feels it, the involuntary tightness, the pulsing inside her and he sees her bite her lower lip, her fingers scramble for perchance to hold it back, but he can feel it. Her body responding to his, their bond flaring open and he floods it with his love, his devotion, everything he feels for her - he pours into their connection as she spasms and convulsed around him.
He groans loudly, quickening his pace, wanting to flood her body as he did her mind. It's heaven, being wrapped up in her, surrounded by her.
He knows this is what love feels like. Her love, his love, they are the same.
He grits his teeth, fighting for a few more moments of feeling her bliss and love for him, but his body always follows where she leads. He's spilling inside her, everything rushing out like a dam broke inside him.
Maybe it had.
She softly breathing his name, that name and he feels himself melt into her again. There is such love in her voice.
He lays his head down, holding her close to him, feeling their hearts slow in their identical rhythm. Their breath slows and he feels peace filling the space between them.
Until she rolls away from him and gets up.
He watches her walk to the table, getting herself a plate before she sits and starts eating. Another little act of defiance.
He loves them almost as much as he loves her.