Part One
You need a teacher.
Rey often recalls Kylo Ren's words. When she has to beg Luke Skywalker to train her, she thinks, I shouldn't have to fight for this, and remembers her enemy's impassioned declaration in the middle of their battle on Starkiller. How eager he was to show her the ways of the Force.
Later, after long days of meditating and practicing near-forgotten lightsaber forms, Rey sometimes lies in bed, sore and restless, thinking of Ren's offer. Some weak part of her wonders whether he would be a more willing instructor than Luke, who teaches her with so much reluctance.
The refrain comes back a year later, long after galactic crisis interrupted her training, drawing both she and Luke away from Ahch-To.
Ren is with the Resistance now. He abandoned his fellow knights, his allies, and his Supreme Leader. Ran to D'Qar with every bit of ammunition against the First Order he could get his hands on and used it to bargain for immunity. He gives them the locations of enemy bases and mass weapons schematics, and in exchange, he won't be prosecuted for his crimes. There are many amongst the Resistance who chafe at this deal, at the justice he's escaping, but the general has the final say.
"Traitor," Finn calls him, casually, the first time the three of them are alone in a room together, and Rey can't help but smile.
Without the mask he relied on for fifteen years, it's startlingly easy to read Ren's expressions. His face remains calm, almost passive, but everything he feels is evident in those dark eyes. He's a little amused by Finn's taunting, but also angered by it, Rey thinks.
The war room fills with other Resistance fighters, all of whom stand as far from Ren as they can. Even once the chamber is uncomfortably crowded a halo of empty space remains around him. No one wants to touch him, to risk contamination.
Rey might feel sorry for him if he hadn't tortured Poe, invaded her mind, murdered his own father, and half-killed Finn.
Still, as the days pass, she finds herself watching him. Ren remains alone, always; even Leia leaves him be. She isn't sure whether this is on the general's prerogative or his own. As much as she despises this man, Rey begins to feel the uncomfortable tug of compassion for him. She knows loneliness too well, grew up under its crushing weight, and she wouldn't wish it on even the likes of him.
When he says, "Train with me," more a command than a request, it's on the tip of her tongue to refuse him.
Instead, Rey says, "Fine," grudging but curious.
She tells herself that she agrees out of pity, but once they fight there's no room for something so condescending. Ren moves with such fury, all frenetic passion that overwhelms the serenity Luke taught her to embrace. That red lightsaber of his sparks and wavers, likes its blade is on the verge of exploding, as unstable as its owner. Rey doesn't understand how he wields it so easily, spinning his weapon through aggressive forms as if it's a part of him.
Their spar ends with her back against the wall, his huge hand gripped around her wrist, so impossibly strong that her hold on her lightsaber weakens. Her fingers open, and the weapon falls to the duracrete floor.
Ren smirks at her and says, "You still need a teacher."
Gevan Alterra is a Resistance fighter just two years older than Rey, almost as skilled with a blaster as Finn, neither very cruel nor kind. He's handsome enough, in a common sort of way. Nothing special, truly—but he's black-haired and brown-eyed, tall and strongly built. She likes to think that this isn't why she invites him back to her quarters, but Rey knows better. She never has been any good at lying to herself.
She's had one lover before. Another scavenger who frequented Niima Outpost, a boy her own age who rutted on top of her when they were both seventeen, who kissed her with selfish eagerness and came before she could even get past the pain of the act. She'd only agreed to fuck him because the loneliness had been suffocating that night and she was so desperate to dispel it. This hadn't worked of course. Nothing ever did, until she left Jakku.
It isn't despair that drives her now. Ever since she started sparring with Ren, she's been kept awake at night. Thinking of his strong body: broad shoulders, muscular arms, long legs. The emotive instability of his deep voice, wavering on some feeling or another every time he speaks. How his smiles are so fleeting that they're almost impossible to catch, but she finds them all the more beautiful for their brevity. Rey still doesn't like Ren, doesn't trust him, but she wants him, and she has to do something about it.
Gevan kisses her between her bare legs, and in the darkness of her spartan room she can pretend that it's someone else using her body this way. When she imagines it's Ren whose eager mouth is working on her tender flesh, Rey feels the first spike of real pleasure she's ever experienced in bed with a man. She moans into the shadowed heat, then bites her lip to keep from whimpering the wrong name.
But then the warmth of Gevan's kiss is gone, and he's climbing on top of her, pushing his cock against her sex, then thrusting inside of her. She's wet, and her body accepts his easily enough. It doesn't hurt the way it did with the nameless scavenger boy, but now that Gevan is panting on top of her, his face cast in silver by the full moon's light, the illusion of Ren is destroyed. The desire that pooled low in her belly dissipates, fades into nothingness, and all she can feel is a strange man's frenzied fucking, making her sore and frustrated.
Rey hopes that he won't last much longer.
Now, when she remembers the offer Ren made her on Starkiller, there's a sensual edge to the possibility. That maybe, if she let him, he could teach her about more than the Force.
Rey imagines that he'd know what to do in bed, that sleeping with him wouldn't end in disappointment. She finds herself fantasizing about Ren on top of her, beneath her, behind her. Having her in every way a man can have a woman, and she knows she ought to be ashamed of that. He was her enemy, he had hurt her friends and killed innocent people, and because of him Leia is a widow. She shouldn't desire him like this, but she does.
And Rey thinks he might want her too. Ren's dark eyes follow her whenever they're in the same room, lingering on her with a heated curiosity that makes her wet no matter how public a place they're in.
During a briefing for the next day's mission, Ren keeps glancing at her, and Rey finds herself squirming in her seat. She refuses to look back at him, but it doesn't matter, because she can feel the weight of his gaze. Intimate, interrogatory. She hopes he doesn't know the effect he has on her. Because if he does, she'll never live it down.
Rey takes Gevan back to her bed later that night. This time she gets on her hands and knees, welcomes him to fuck her without having to look on him. She focuses on the sensation of his cock inside her, his big hands holding her hips with almost hurtful strength, and it's easy enough to close her eyes and pretend it's a different man pumping between her legs. Rey reaches down to touch her sex, rubbing sweet circles there, trying to reach a release for once. She imagines the harsh breathing she hears is Ren's, that the bruising grip on her body belongs to him, and she's so close that she doesn't care how wrong this is, how unfair. Rey moans, a staggered cry she can't seem to hold back, as the waves of pleasure build, bringing her right to the edge—
And then Gevan stops, pulls away from her, breaking the contact between them.
Angry, unfulfilled, and so near to coming that she can feel the throb of want pulsing down her legs, Rey turns around, faces Gevan, and asks, "What are you doing?"
He gets out of her bed, starts dressing, and looks at her with disgust. "You should be asking yourself that," he says.
Rey gathers the rumpled sheets around her naked body. "What's your problem?"
"My problem is being called another man's name while I'm inside you," he hisses. "If you want that monster so badly, go fuck him. I don't care."
She's thankful for the darkness, because without it he'd see how red her cheeks are, how ashamed she is. There isn't anything she can say to defend herself, so Rey says nothing at all.
Word of her disastrous night with Gevan gets around the Resistance base like wildfire. Within three days everyone she knows is looking at her oddly. When Rey confronts her friends about it, Finn makes some excuse, saying he needs to prepare for his next raid, then hurries away. But Poe takes pity on her and tells her the truth: Gevan complained to his friends that she moaned Kylo Ren's name while they were in bed together, and now everyone knows.
If the way Leia won't meet her eyes is any indication, this particular bit of gossip travelled all the way up the chain of command.
Part of her wants to hide in her room until the judgement of her peers passes, but Rey is too proud for this. Her desires are no one's business besides her own, and she refuses to let public shame get in the way of her duties for the Resistance.
She hopes that no one had the bravery or gall to tell Kylo Ren, but she finds out soon enough that this isn't so. After their next sparring session, they sit side by side on the ground, sweaty and breathing hard from their exertions, and he asks, "Gevan Alterra, really?"
Rey feels her whole body flush. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not?" Ren says lightly. "Everyone else is."
"You think I don't know that? That this whole damn base isn't staring at me? That everyone expects I want to be your—" She cuts herself off, too embarrassed to speak further.
Ren tilts his head and looks at her curiously. "My what?"
Rey isn't entirely sure of which word she'd been approaching. Lover, maybe? Or something less clean, perhaps. Slut, or whore.
"Don't make me say it," she whispers. "I feel ashamed enough as it is."
Ren smiles, if just barely, that hardly-there smirk that makes her want him all the more. Then he reaches over and touches her cheek, a gentle caress that sends her heart beating wildly. He leans closer, bridging the space between them, until his generous lips are pressing against hers. Rey kisses back, months of desire making her too weak to resist. Just the feel of that wicked mouth on her own has her wet, and she gasps against him, tugs at his dark clothes.
"What do you want?" he asks, and the breath of his words feels warm against her skin.
Rey leans away from him, looks at his lips, damp from their kissing, swollen from her greed.
"I want you to teach me," she says.
Her first lesson takes place in the woods outside of the Resistance base. Rey takes off her clothes too quickly and clumsily for it to be seductive, but he watches her with hunger in his eyes just the same, his gaze lingering on her small breasts, then dropping to the thatch of coarse curls between her legs.
"Lie down," he orders, so commanding and sure that she finds herself obeying.
Rey settles herself on a bed of damp grass, staring up at the canopy of green leaves above her while she listens to Kylo Ren undress. She wants to watch him reveal himself, to savor the sight of his pale skin as it's bared, but for some reason she can't bring herself to look.
But then he's kneeling before her, his broad body blocking out the sunlight, casting her in shadow. Now she can't keep from admiring him, from wanting to touch those vast shoulders and that lean waist, his thick-muscled legs and half-hard cock.
He grasps her breast, plucks at her hardened nipple, then puts his hand between her thighs, cupping her sex gently. She closes her eyes, embarrassed; he's barely touched her and already she's so wet, so ready that he could fuck her right now and she'd love it. Rey expects him to taunt her about this, but instead he slips two fingers inside of her, thrusts deeply and slowly. She makes a sound that should shame her, some high-pitched whine she can't seem to hold back. He curls those big fingers just so, and a shock of pleasure makes her arch up off the ground, throw back her head, and grasp at the grass, reaching for purchase, for anything to keep her grounded. Then he's driving into her harder and faster, so roughly that she feels exquisitely sore. The slick noise of his fingers slipping in and out of her sex makes her blush, the sound just shy of obscene.
"Please," she whimpers, not even sure what she's begging for, only that he has the power to give it to her.
He answers with a brutal thrust of his fingers that draws a startled cry from her throat, so loud that, were she not beyond caring, Rey might worry that someone walking the grounds could hear them.
"I'm going to make you come so hard you scream," Ren promises. "Would you like that, pet?"
"I'm—I'm not your—don't call me—" Rey means to sound indignant, but she can't articulate herself well enough to chastise him for that demeaning endearment.
He laughs, all masculine arrogance. She's too on edge for it to anger her, so close to coming that she bucks up against his hand, unconcerned about how desperate she looks, how needful and indecent. Her body goes rigid when the pleasure finally crests, breaking over her in waves that make her tremble, that bring tears to her eyes.
Ren is right; he does make her scream.
Author's Notes: This is the first half of a two-shot about Rey's sexual awakening, and it's one of the smuttiest things I've ever written. Expect more of the same in Part 2!
Thank you Next to Something for finding the perfect title for this little fic, as well as for being the world's most awesome beta. :D