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When Kylo Ren walked into the training room where Rey was fiddling with the broken lightsaber, she started to cry. One second she was jiggling the cycling field energizers while swearing up a storm, and the next she was sobbing like a little girl with a dead pet in her lap.
Kylo crossed the room in the particular gait she had learned to recognize without looking-it was the purposeful, powerful strides of a man who had all intentions of making his arrival an announcement. He drew her into the circle of his strong arms, but said nothing while she tried to pull herself together. It wasn't the long, exhausting hours of training, or the strangeness of life aboard the cold durasteel Finalizer, so alien from Jakku. It wasn't the loss of her Resistance friends. No, it wasn't that. It was this-never knowing when he would come for her, of being unsure if she was fulfilling his expectations, of wanting to make him proud.
"I'm...I'm sorry." She sniffled and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, embarrassment flooding through her.
Kylo tilted his head. He had a pretty good idea what the problem was.
"Apologizing is unnecessary. I know what I ask, and it's never easy." His voice was a rumble through the mask's vocodor.
She went limp in his arms, hating and loving him for being understanding. In that instant, she hated that he was so good at reading her. She hated that his affection was as real as his cruelty. She hated his strong hands, the copper tint to his black hair in the right light, the dark gold-green of his eyes.
When her eyes were finally dry, his gloved hands settling on her shoulders to guide her back a step so she could follow the nod of his head toward the wall of practice weapons.
"Ready?"
She straightened and nodded. "Of course."
He ran her through her lessons, her focus shifting to memory, her body sliding through forms trained into muscles for hours on end. He did not hold back for her-something she both admired and feared. He did not cushion his blows-if she were slow enough or not skilled enough to block him then she earned the pain she received and the lesson was learned for the next time.
She barely realized she was panting for breath before she registered she wasn't able to catch it-and his staff shirked hers to connect solidly with her calf. They froze, and he hummed in what she thought was disappointment before she followed the line of his sight-down the length of her own staff which was pressed against his ribs. It was the first time since he'd completed his training with the Supreme Leader that she'd been able to break through his aggressive attacks and land a strike on him.
She jerked the staff back, and she felt the heavy weight of his eyes behind the mask on her for a long moment.
"Good." He purred. He didn't sound out of breath at all.
He gave her a final approving nod. "Wait in my quarters."
Dismissed, she deposited both of their staffs against the wall and nearly bounced out of the room.
Kylo picked up the discarded saber she'd been working on when he'd come in and examined it. A couple of the energizers looked normal, but needed to be replaced. He clipped it next to his on his belt and proceeded to make a few stops to make sure the rest of his night was undisturbed before catching up with Rey.
When he arrived to his quarters, she was standing at the large viewport and had set his customary glass of Corellian wine on the side table by the couch. He gave her belted robe and damp hair a once over before releasing the catch to the mask and pulling it off. He set it down on the table with a heavy thud that made her jump as she tried to gauge his mood. He worked his gloves off next, slapping them down over the mask. She turned from the viewport and he circled her, not taking his eyes off of her. She used to shrink back but now she leaned into the occasional brush of his shoulders against her.
The crack of command wove around his next single word. "Strip."
He sat on the couch and watched her while she undid the fabric belt wound about her waist, and dropped the robe from her shoulders. It slithered down her body to form a black silk puddle around her on the floor. She faced him, spread her feet, and crossed her arms behind her back.
His eyes were slowly roaming over her, taking in every bare inch of her skin. She felt herself heating under that gaze as it was hard to tell if it was critical or appreciative, but she refused to squirm----let him look.
"What are your instructions?"
She licked her lips, channeling the willpower to answer him.
"For thirty days I will suffer pain or pleasure at my Master's demand, whenever and however my Master wishes."
He leaned forward and beckoned her closer. He set the wine aside and settled his hands on her hips.
"What else?"
"I am not to touch myself, or climax, or it begins all over again." He slid one large, warm hand down over her belly to cup her sex. His eyes didn't leave her face as he slid a finger over her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut as a sigh left her lips at the deft strokes, so slow, so evil, so soft and wonderful.
"Look at me." She forced her eyes open and he sped up by a tiny increment. She strove toward the sensation, unable to help herself.
"Based on your progress, today will be pleasure." He murmured, then noted the smug little grin and cocky lift of her eyebrow. "Don't make me regret my generosity."
"N-never, ohhhh Force," She whined and watched in reckless abandon as his lips sealed around the soft, damp juncture of her thighs. Fierce suction surrounded her, soft flicks slid over her clit.
Her nails drew blood on her arms in her attempt to not reach down and grip his thick dark hair, and every muscle in her body went taut like a bowcaster string. She wanted more, just a little more, dying for a few more seconds of those eyes up and on her, like he was fucking her with a single glance. She cried out like a mortally wounded animal. She rocked into the pleasure, found the limit of her control and longed for it to stop. Yes, she wanted nothing more than to get off. In that nanosecond, she would have done anything--anything--for an orgasm she’d been so long denied. Razed cities, unmade worlds. The need violently reshaped her entire existence.
But she would not disappoint the Master Knight. She bit her cheek until she tasted the coppery tang of blood and ground out through gritted teeth. “Stop.”
The loss of contact was so sudden that she staggered. He caught her, but the touch was rough. She was glad for it, because a gentle touch might have been what sent her over the brink. His attention was on her face, his expression a mask of calculating observation. His eyes took in everything and gave away nothing. She whimpered, and her pussy pulsed. She prayed and used the Force to push her awareness out to the life on the ship around her until she pulled back from the edge.
"My scavenger." He said. With such possession behind the title, it sounded like the insult it used to be, but his touch was anything but disapproving.
“Undress me.” She glared at him for just a moment, noting the arrogant tilt of his chin, like he was daring her to object. Of course he would make her do it instead of doing it himself. The last twenty-eight days had been a practice in self-control. He came for her, sometimes several times a day, and dove deep into her psyche to find what would push her mind and body to the point of no return, and then drove her just short of that point. Most often it was pleasure, but he thrilled in finding ways to remind her that pain was just as likely if she displeased him, and sometimes he found a way to combine them so that it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.
Undressing him was a great pleasure of hers as she always found it an excuse to touch, her fingers lingering here and there as she got to strip away the armor and secrecy the clothes and mask gave him. She knew without asking that she wasn’t allowed to touch this time. She set his lightsaber down on the table next to his wine, and gave him a questioning look at her own broken saber that had been clipped beside it.
"Later." He said dismissively.
She set it next to his before going for the rest of his clothes. She knelt at his feet to pull his boots and set them beside the couch, neatly lined up. She stripped his pants last, and before she had time to really appreciate what she’d uncovered, he told her to put the pile of clothes away. She grabbed them and took them to the small conference table that sat before the viewport. She folded them neatly, quickly, as patience was not a quality Kylo Ren was known for.
She turned and found him in the same spot on the couch, nude, hard. Her lower half clenched-to see so much of his pale skin usually armored in his dark robes should have diminished him- but it didn't. He was still massive, even more impressive now that the breadth of his shoulders and definition of his muscles could be seen. She nearly vibrated with the need to jump him but she refrained-while she wasn't submissive, she was obedient, and he hadn't given her permission.
"Come." She made an undignified noise and scrambled onto his lap.
His fingers fisted in her hair, their lips crashing together. His hands were everywhere, his mouth tasted of a hint of the wine she'd poured for him. He adjusted himself so that his cock rested against her ass. She slammed both hands onto the back of the couch, whining when the tip nudged her slit. He grabbed her neck and his fingers brushed her backside as he stroked himself. His skin was hot, his breath quickening, and his hum rumbled his chest.
"Sit on my cock."
She ground down, forcing herself to take his width and length, the stretch-fill making her jerk, still, flutter. He watched her face as she closed her eyes and furrowed her brows to focus on the slow drag.
He laughed, a sound so rare that it startled her even as the low, rich sound jerked at things lower in her body. He twisted her hair tightly around his fist and pulled, even as he swatted her ass with his free hand. She knew from experience it wasn’t nearly as hard as he could have, but it was torturous for the want that shot screaming through her veins. He rocked upward while using his grip in her hair to pull her down.
“Move.” He commanded against her neck. He fucked into her again, pushing another gasp out of her. Another deep plunge, and she was seeing stars.
He released her hair almost violently and both of his hands slapped down on her ass, harder this time.
“Move.” He said again, more of a warning this time.
She began to raise and lower herself along his cock, her fingers leaving the back of the couch and digging into his shoulders instead. She was too slow, too sloppy, and he spanked her with increasing intensity until she picked up the pace. Then she was too shallow and he shoved her downward with every thrust, savage and unforgiving even in his pleasure.
She pressed the inside of her thighs to the outside of his, feeling the heat radiating from his body where they touched, and along the line of kisses he placed along the tender skin of her wrists, her collarbones, her sternum. His thickly corded arms rested on top of her thighs while he gripped her hips in a bruising hold.
Once she found a rhythm that seemed to please him, it didn’t take long for the feelings to tip from a slow burn to a frenzied pressure. She felt the gentle pressure of him in her mind, waiting, testing. It wasn’t that he was being any more gentle than he had during her interrogation, but with her continued practice, the intrusion was much less intense now when he pushed his way in. An active spectator in her mind, he was there as she got so so close, dizzy with the effort to stay just there, not tilt over. Her eyes watered as she pushed out with the Force again, using all the meditation and sensory awareness tricks he had taught her to find anything-anything!-besides the pending eruption to focus on.
Just when she thought she had it, two things happened: he pressed his hand against her belly, changing the angle of the walls inside and his cock hit that bundle of nerves and he opened his mind to her questing senses. His desire was a wave that rolled into hers in an endless loop. Her walls, her defenses, everything she’d built up to that point to dull the sensation shattered and crumbled as her mouth opened in a soundless cry. Her nails dug into his shoulders, shoving in her desperation to change her position or slow him down.
He pinned her with his eyes, no smile, just a penetration that dug deep into the core of her, the Force moving through him like a leviathan half-seen just under the surface.
“Beg for it.” He snarled.
She dropped her wrecked voice to a husky purr, obeying immediately because she didn’t have time to wonder if he had made a benevolent decision to end her assignment a day early, and any moment the choice was going to be taken from her and she was not about to begin this whole thing again or deal with whatever awaited her if she failed his instructions.
“Please...please….need to…can I…”It wasn't so much begging as a string of desperate, incoherent thoughts rolling off her tongue.
A few more thrusts and she would break, he felt it as her lust echoed through his own body.
“No.” He snapped, and closed his mind again.
He stopped with one more thrust, just short of her tipping point, and forced her still. She slouched, feeling the slight swell and
throb of him spilling inside her. He didn't make a sound, barely breathed, and let loose a long sigh, the tension leaving him. She rested, concentrating on not moving until her body stopped pulsing around him, until the tidal wave receded, until she caught her breath, until her heart stopped pounding. She didn’t realize she’d dozed off until he lifted and laid her beside him on the couch. He moved, and something warm and vaguely smelling of him covered her.
When she woke the second time, the smell of something delicious wafted her way and her stomach growled.
“There’s food if you want it.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
She half sat up and took the plate he passed her, his attention turned to a datapad propped against his knee. The hand not holding the datapad carded through her hair as she cleared off the rest of the plate.
“You should finish the saber tonight.” He murmured conversationally.
She frowned as she thought of the choice words she had for the piece of junk earlier, but she read underneath the seemingly innocent statement.
“Why?”
“Tomorrow is the last day of your...lesson. IF you complete it, you can have whatever you want.”
He let that hang there as she processed the gravity of the offer, the weight of the "if". She had been unprepared for the surge of his feelings with hers, but if he tried it again, she would be ready. One more day, why couldn't she do it? She would do it.
“Anything?”
“Whatever is in my power to give, Rey.”
She struggled to sit up next to him, her mind tripping over the possibilities, settling on one very appealing possibility. She would have revenge for the torture he put her through for the last month. Every single day.
He smirked, clearly reading her mind. He looked up from the datapad and cupped her chin.
“Yes, even that.”