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Rey was out for a walk through the forest when her heart suddenly began to race. Her body felt strangely hot all over, and there was a bothersome tightness in her lower belly. Her mind reeled as she stumbled to a stop. Damp heat flooded the space between her legs and she pressed a hand to her pelvis in surprise, as though that could stifle it.
It only took her a moment to realize that these reactions weren’t her own. She huffed as her anger surged.
What was he doing now? Dying? She didn’t want to examine how the thought filled her with dread.
She began to pant until the feeling of exertion crested then faded and she could attempt to collect herself. By that time, she could sense his irritating presence somewhere behind her.
“You know,” she chewed out, “these interruptions to my day are starting to get very, very annoying.”
“Don’t…don’t start with me, Scavenger.”
He was breathless. When Rey turned around, she found him sitting down, shirtless (although that was nothing new), with a sheen of sweat across his entire body. His hair was a mess, his lips were parted, and—his pants were undone. Rey just barely noticed the map of dark hair leading down from his navel before heat flashed in her cheeks and she tore her eyes away.
“What were you doing?” she asked, even though she was afraid to hear the answer. “Were you fighting someone?”
“No,” he responded. His eyes were two dark pools that watched her with obvious hunger gleaming in their depths. He’d rarely looked at her like that. She didn’t know what to make of the way it made her feel when he did.
“Then what?” she asked quietly.
He was silent for a long moment and Rey could see the wheels of his mind churning as he debated how to answer her. Judging by how he replied, he decided to go with complete, unbarred honesty. Rey wished he hadn’t, even as his next words made her breath hitch.
“I was thinking about you. And no, I’m not sorry.”
A sharp, potent sort of fire licked down Rey’s spine. She set her jaw, grinding her teeth as the pieces began slotting together in her mind. Kylo had summoned her to him by thinking of her. He was sweaty, mostly undressed, his face was flushed and his stare was heady.
She stumbled over her own thoughts.
“What…? I don’t understand,” she lied. For some reason admitting to the truth felt like a betrayal of her own secrets and she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She needed to stay hidden around him. Careful. She needed to lock the doors of herself and never let him in.
But she’d given him a key a long time ago. And he knew it, too.
He stood slowly and she watched the muscles of his torso and arms undulate as he straightened and turned to face her. His stare was still too intense—it was almost sharp, the way it pierced straight to the core of her. She wanted to squirm and look away, but she couldn’t do that, either. So she stood, frozen in place, and watched him as he came closer one step at a time. The closer he got, she became more willing to look away. But where she wanted to look—at that tempting, interesting place exposed to her beyond the open fastenings of his pants—was mortifying.
“I think you do understand,” he said calmly, his voice rough and still just a little breathless. “I think what you’re unsure of is why you find yourself wondering exactly how I was thinking of you. Because you know why I was thinking of you, don’t you?”
She couldn’t speak. Her eyes flared with a desire to yell at him, but the scathing words turned to ash in her throat. She shook her head and did her best to glare at him, which only made him smirk.
“No need to act defensive,” he purred. “I know your secret, Rey. I’ve felt it too, you know.”
She couldn’t hide her shock. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. But if she could sense his desire as he thought of her, then it stood to reason that—
“You’ve done it, too,” he said. Each word felt like an arrow piercing her chest. “And you and I both know I wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t thinking of me.”
He was so close now, she could see the fine dew drops of sweat that had gathered in the middle of his chest, including those that were slowly tracking down his stomach. Every part of his body was so hard, she thought touching him must be like touching concrete: cold and unforgiving. But just then, he didn’t look so cold, or so resistant.
What I want and what is right aren’t always aligned, she reminded herself. I must always choose what is right.
“Maybe I don’t mean to think of you,” she said weakly. Her eyes blinked rapidly as his stare burned her up. “Maybe you just appear unwanted, in the most inconvenient way. Like you always do.”
He chuckled darkly. “No, I don’t think so. I think I feature quite prominently in these little daydreams of yours. Tell me, do you moan as you picture me fucking you?”
“You’re awful,” she spat.
“It’s fine, Rey. You’re not a deviant. You’re curious. I’m curious, too.
“You imagine me touching you because you want me to touch you,” he said. His eyes fell slowly down her body and returned to her face. They flashed with desire. “Admit it.”
No. She refused. She would never utter those words. Not to him, or anyone else. It didn’t make them untrue. It just wasn’t verbal confirmation, either.
“You want to touch me too,” she reminded him, intending for the words to land like blows. Every single one missed its target.
“Yes. I do.”
His agreement only annoyed her more. “Don’t you feel ashamed? Disgusted? Confused?”
“Don’t you want to know what it’s like? Just once?” He batted her questions away like bothersome insects, redirecting the conversation.
“What what’s like?” she hissed.
“You touching me. Me touching you.”
Yes. Often. It’s a massive problem.
“You can do it, you know,” he told her. “You can touch me here. It’s just us. No one will know.”
“I don’t want—”
“Yes, you do. Go on, Rey.”
“Where would I even touch you? Would a slap suffice?”
“Why don’t you touch me where you secretly want to touch me the most?” he dared her.
He stepped impossibly closer, until Rey’s chest brushed against his with her every inhale. They were rapid now, alongside her heartbeats. She felt like she was coming undone. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had found a loose thread and tugged on it and now he was unravelling her inch by inch. And instead of feeling enraged or offended or insecure, she felt brave and warm. She liked the way he unmade her. Kriff, she liked it.
“Touch me, Rey. Please.”
Please. There it was again. That word, uttered by his lips, always broke her, for better or for worse.
Her fingers traced the rough outline of his undone zipper, climbing upwards. He inhaled sharply when she made contact, even though it was only with his clothes. But she tilted her hand just a little and she could feel the hairs tickling her knuckles, enticing her to push a little further. Explore deeper.
So, she did.
He watched her with eyes that were almost disbelieving. He didn’t move, or speak, until her fingers found the part of him that remained solid and firm. He gasped and his body pressed into hers as his hips bucked into her light touch.
“Kriff,” he hissed into her hair.
He was hot—so hot—against her fingertips. She’d never felt a man this way before. She didn’t know it’d be like that. His skin was so soft but he was so incredibly hard at the same time. With her other hand, she tugged his pants down just a little further to expose more of him to her. The entire time she explored, she kept her eyes up, focused on him. She learned the shape of him by touch alone.
There was a prominent vein along the side of his shaft and she let her fingertips lightly trace it up his length. He was so erect he was pressing into her hip, but she didn’t mind it. The head of him felt thick and rounded, smooth to the touch with a bead of moisture at its tip, which she swirled around with her thumb. He huffed and groaned and grinded himself against her, seemingly unable to prevent himself from doing so.
“You should stop,” he told her gruffly. “Before I—I just don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”
But I want to see you finish, she thought. Just another throwaway sentence she’d never speak out loud. Just another true desire to suppress.
She let her hand fall away, but she realized she didn’t want him to step away from her. She liked him like this, actually. Colour burning in his cheeks, his soft lips parted, his eyes half-lidded but just as intense as ever. She preferred this to the cocky, smirking bastard she usually dealt with.
Stay like this, just for a moment longer.
“Now you,” she breathed. Her skin ached for something—anything. The heat of his stare would not do. She needed more. She needed friction. She needed him.
He didn’t do anything. He just looked at her, searching her, trying to determine if she was serious.
“Touch me where you most want to touch me,” she said, stating it as clearly as she could without being crude.
His thumb caressed the swell of her bottom lip. She gasped as his hand held her jaw lightly. His long fingers were on her neck, tracing her hammering pulse.
“It’s cruel, you know,” he murmured. His thumb pushed past her lips and she opened for him, touching him with the tip of her tongue. “I know this is wrong. I know you’re the last person I should be thinking of when I’m alone. You’re my enemy. I’m supposed to want you dead, but that’s a little hard to do when I really just want you to myself.”
She closed her lips and lightly sucked as he talked. She hoped she was unravelling him, too. She got her answer when his other hand crawled slowly up her side to her shoulder, then followed the line of her collarbone before dipping lower. He traced the slight swell of her breast, guarded from him by layers of wrapping, but she could feel it as though there were no barriers at all. He circled lazily around her nipple, correctly guessing its location, but didn’t touch it.
“Don’t you wonder how good it would feel? To bring each other pleasure in this little realm of ours?” he asked. The words were gravelly and quiet.
He extracted his thumb from between her lips. His hand circled around to the back of her neck and pulled her closer. He angled her head up by tugging gently on her hair bun.
“Yes,” she admitted, “but I—” I don’t know how. “But you’re right. We shouldn’t be doing this. This is…wrong.”
What I want and what is right aren’t always aligned.
“So we both know it. Yet here we are,” he said.
He cupped her then, his one hand encompassing her entire breast. She gasped when he lightly squeezed her through her clothes. His hand dipped lower, traversing the planes of her stomach, at a very slow pace.
“Are you going to tell me to stop?” he asked.
She didn’t have an answer.
“Are you going to tell me this is wrong?”
Again, she couldn’t answer. His hand slid lower, to her navel. He murmured the next question into her hair above her ear.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No.”
His fingers slipped between her legs with casual ease. He didn’t undo her pants to touch his skin to hers like she’d done. He pressed into her through her clothing, all the way along her core, and the sensation pulled a breathy noise from her.
“Ahh, so you do moan,” he purred.
“S-shut up and keep going,” she growled.
“Keep going?” He rubbed her firmly and his thumb applied pressure to that sensitive bud of hers, nearly making her cry out again. She couldn’t help but push into his touch, as though she could take him deep through her clothing.
“What more do you want from me, Scavenger?” he asked. She could hear his stupid grin in his voice. “Do you want me to use my fingers the same way you do when you’re alone?”
“Yes,” she said, spitting the word out like a curse.
“Then show me how.”
She undid the cloth fastenings of her pants herself and he pulled them down her thighs. She took his hand in hers and brought him closer, directing his touch where she wanted it to go. At the first caress of his fingertips along the wet core of her, they both groaned.
“Maker, you feel—”
“Shh. Just do what I tell you.”
With her hands, and without breaking eye contact with him, she positioned his fingers over her clit and encouraged them to circle her slowly. She choked back a low moan and forced herself to speak.
“F-first, I start here,” she said softly. Her head lolled forwards a little. “Kriff. But it’s too—it’s too quick, so I move here…”
She directed his fingers to her entrance and encouraged the tip of one inside. She gasped and bit down hard on her lip. Her eyebrows pinched together. He collapsed into her just a little, his breathing harsh and ragged.
“Now you,” she instructed softly.
He growled and walked her backwards a few steps until her spine met the resistance of a tree trunk. She gasped at the rough contact, but he didn’t give her much time to think about it. With his free hand, he pulled one of her legs up, holding it by her knee, to give himself better access to her. If she was honest with herself, it all felt very hot.
The idle thought crossed her mind like a scent on a steady breeze, there and then gone. Am I really allowing this to go on? But it was far too late to acknowledge such a question now.
She cried out when he pushed his long, thick finger completely inside her. It was only one and yet she already felt so full. Maybe this won’t go on, she thought. Maybe I can’t handle him this way. This felt far more complicated and intricate than battle. This was a game of wills and pleasure her body had never played before. But judging by the way he was trembling and continuing to grind himself against her body, she figured the playing field was even at least.
“Like this?” he asked roughly. His finger slid out of her slowly and then pushed back in, over and over at an even pace. “Does this feel good?”
“Y-yes,” she replied. “It feels good.”
He began moving a little faster, inciting all kinds of delicious noises from her pretty mouth. He kept his lips a mere inch away from hers as he pleasured her and his eyes continued to bore into hers until it felt like they were melting her brain into a puddle.
She could feel herself getting closer to that edge; she’d been so scared to jump off of it the first time. But now she knew the thrill of it. Now she loved the way the fall stole her breath away and made her muscles tense. She craved it, even when she shouldn’t. Especially now.
Her hand moved back to the thick, hard length of him and as she touched him, his lips peeled back from his teeth and he hissed. For a terrifying second, she thought he didn’t like it anymore.
“Is this—are you—?” she stuttered.
“Don’t stop,” he urged in a strangled voice. “Don’t you stop. Tighter. Hold me tighter—ahhh, Rey…”
Hearing her name be spoken by him in such a breathless, needy tone made her clench around him. In the moment, she couldn’t quite explain why.
He pushed two fingers inside. Her back arched and a garbled, panting moan flew off her tongue. I can do this, she thought, somewhere in the far recesses of her electrified mind. I can take more from him. More, more, more, until there’s nothing left for him to give me.
With her head leaned back against the tree, her throat was exposed to him. He ducked his head without warning and licked and kissed the length of it. She didn’t think such a thing could feel as good as it did. Her free hand went to the back of his head, where her fingers tangled themselves in his soft hair.
Her legs felt weak. Her lower half burned with the need for release, but she was scared. For what, she didn’t quite know. Scared for this to end, she supposed. Scared for what came next. Scared for him to vanish like he always did, leaving her to drown in all the overwhelming, confusing emotions he brought out in her.
“Ben,” she gasped. “Ben, I’m—”
“Do it. It’s okay.” He thrust into her as deep as he could, his fingers massaging that part of her that made her come apart at the seams. “I want you to.”
“But you—”
“I’m close. I’m so damn close…Maker…”
Any noises she made after that point were not words. They were not from any language in the entire galaxy. They were groans and garbled nonsense; her lungs begged for air but she couldn’t take a full breath. She may have even screamed as she came apart against him.
As her body shook, he angled himself away from her and took himself in his own hand. He groaned deeply next to her ear as he found his release. She couldn’t see it from this angle, even though she wanted to. But it felt like she was made of goo. She couldn’t figure out how to turn her head or move her arms. She rather thought the only reason she was still standing was because he had her trapped between himself and the tree.
For a long moment they stayed still apart from the tremors that still racked their bodies. Their rushed, uneven breaths mingled in the miniscule space between them. He slumped against her a little. She’d never seen him so weakened.
If I was better, she thought, if I wasn’t so selfish, I could do what’s right. I could rip him to pieces. I could imprison him. I could do so many things. But I don’t want to. What I want is to stay here, like this, and feel his heart racing in time with mine for just a little longer.
This felt right to her. Anything else felt horribly, sickeningly wrong.
What I want and what is right aren’t always aligned. But right now…right now, they are in perfect harmony.
The minutes they stood pressed together could’ve been hours. Rey didn’t know, nor did she care. It was only when a voice cut through the silence of the forest that she stilled and tried to push him away. He didn’t budge, but he did look in the direction of the noise.
“Rey? Rey! Are you still out here?”
“Oh, kriff,” Rey cursed. It was Rose, trampling through the forest in haste, searching for her.
“You need to go,” she said to him seconds before she yelled. “I’m here!”
“Why?” he drawled. “They can’t see me. Only you can.”
“Yes, and that’s bad enough,” she snapped. She shoved on his chest and he finally backed off enough that she could stand straight and set her pants to rights.
He smirked roguishly as he looked at her. He took his time putting himself back into his pants. He had softened, but he was still formidable. It was still enough to make her salivate. She wished that wasn’t the case as she swallowed.
“I’m coming to you!” Rose shouted.
“What are you going to tell her?” Kylo asked teasingly. “You’re a little too flushed and sweaty to claim you were meditating…”
“I’ll say I was running, then,” she grumbled. “It doesn’t concern you, anyway. Please just go.”
She could hear Rose in the bush, getting closer. Panic squeezed in her chest.
“Kylo. Leave.”
Something flashed in his eyes when she said his name. She didn’t have the time or patience to puzzle it out, or determine why it looked akin to pain. Instead, she turned away from him and started walking towards the sound of her approaching friend.
“Fine,” he said. “Try not to think about me, Scavenger.”
She wanted to say something like “that won’t be hard” but she couldn’t. It was a lie, and she was too exhausted to lie to him considering all the made-up excuses she was about to hurl at Rose.
She stalled and turned around. “You know, if you’d just—”
But he was gone. Banished from this place, from her mind. She could still feel him deep within her chest, like a tiny wound that throbbed in his absence. She looked at the tree where everything had just happened and blushed anew.
A little later, as she walked back to base with Rose, she realized she had hated it when he’d called her Scavenger. It wasn’t what she wanted him to call her. She’d liked it far better when he’d moaned her name by her ear. At least it was honest. At least it was real.
So she vowed to never call him Kylo again. That mask was gone now. He couldn’t hide behind it anymore, not around her. She wouldn’t let him.