Author's Note:I spent a lot of time sitting on this pairing. It's nothing too serious and my first stab at remotely trying to write a Star Wars fiction. The universe and possibilies are so expansive that it would be injurious for me to try and quantify a one shot. So, hopefully my Kylo Ren and Rey fiction, isn't abhorrent.
Aftertouch -
A pair of fingers sprawled like willow branches along the taut scar that splayed across his face. It was deep, and felt as though it was as large of a chasism as the one the girl created between them. The imagery fluttered through his memories, making his body recoil. The sensation that burned his veins, peppered his vision with blinding color.
He still felt it.
The trepidation in that woman's eyes was otherworldly. He felt the darkness, more violent than his own, as it permeating through her very being. It was a quick jolt that the Force had tried to pull away from her.
He could see it.
The blinding promenade between their sabres became a blur as she blindly dove into his flesh. It was a memory that he picked apart many times. She was just as much of a creature as he was, she just had yet to accept what she really was, he consoled himself.
No one had laid even a finger on him, whether it be from his mere presence or unpredictability. He was powerful, more than the mere son of a scoundrel. The mere idea made his fist clench. His jaw was taut and tense as he stared at his reflection in a panel of smooth metal.
Every second he spent scrunitizing the flayed skin, he thought of her and had since that day. It felt as though his emotions became even more predisposed to volatile dispositions. His lower lip twitched between his teeth as he failed to contain an outburst of hatred.
The sinewy boy punctured the paneling with his lightsaber without a second thought. He kicked the debris and let out an irate growl. The conflicted emotions bellowing the kindling for the other drove his mind into a momentary blistering madness.
His fingers laced into his hair as he dropped onto his haunches. His head fell between his knees as he inhaled sharply, still feeling weak from the incident. His skin still burned, and his leg was still attempting to heal.
A beading of sweat creased his brow as he closed his eyes. There was an uncertainty to the weight that cradled his body before crushing him as though he were an insect; or one of the solar systems that he had dismantled.
In the very essence of his being, he felt the swelling of the Force drowning him in a wave of light. He glowered to himself as that woman's face penetrated his thoughts yet again.
Each diminutive feature and spattering of freckles that divulged upon her cheeks made the uniqueness of her face and he hated it. He angered himself at the idea that he wanted to feel that sensation again.
It was disarming. The girl crept into his skin, wallowing alongside his fears and doubts. The capacity to relinquish to the curiosity nipped at his subconscious. He was beguiled to delve into those caverns and few interactions as though they were monumental.
The man let himself fall slack. His heavy arms lay on the cold flooring, as he rested on his aching back. His eyes flickered over the overhead lights, which beamed deeply into his vision. He tried to stare past them, figuring out the moment he felt that peculiar sensation.
It was then he became drunk on the energy boring through him, exhilarated by the visage of her ensnared by the shackles around her appendages.
She was afraid beneath his scrunity. He smirked to himself proudly at the image. A fortitude of her visions and memories intertwined with his own. He saw the emptiness and felt the darkness eroding the innocence in her. He wanted nothing more than to know her like no one else did.
She was so foreign, so scared and steadfast in an inoculated amalgam of sorrow and semblance of hope. The girl's energy swallowed him, beguiling him to succumb to a siren's call.
His inspection and unprecented reguard to her well-being in that moment made hid stomach knot. It knitted together much like a web; woven together without thought or dual process to be more than it was in its essence.
It was a tool to trap weaker pray, and naturally select the stronger species - more calculated species to be exact.
She looked at him with such disdain, such ire, that he felt as though he had found kindred suffering in another being.
It was disgusting how the scavenger began to consume his time. His efforts were for naught if he did not think of ways to sway her. Her potential rested in far higher ranking, should she acquiese to his demands to teach her the way to fall into her own darkness.
She shouldn't fear it. It existed in every living being. Accepting it made her seem more fantastical, but he flinched at the idea of sullying her.
A grimace laced his lips as he contemplated the feeling slithering through him. He felt as though she was pulling him from his core. He refused to allow compassion to wilt his ambitions to become the rightful successor to the pseudo-royal lineage that punctuated his DNA with exclamation.
This creature, this naive, untrained girl was not about to jeopardize the methodically crafted regime he had built from the ashes of the Empire. What he felt boring into those eyes, prying apart the recesses of her mind, was a symphony of kindred longing and fathomless loneliness.
The lanky man wriggled slightly, reveling in the frissions that rippled down his flesh and spine. He wanted more of that power. That oddity would make more than just a centerpiece.
For a moment, he stilled his mind. The plague wrought by that woman was null. He refused it only to sink deeper into the spell she had left on him. It was maddening. She held no power. She was untamed, uncouth and raw in action.
The man sat up slowly. His unkempt dark hair fell like a drapery along his pallid, pronounced features. He wiped a clammy hand long his face, resting it along his mouth. Quietly, he let his fingers linger in place.
It was a dangerous idea that presented itself to him, as he stared intently at the damage he had caused. He could have killed her if he had truly wanted to. She could have in his weakened state, to be honest. To be rid of her was such a waste of potential.
Yet, as he sat, in the aftermath of his egregious episode, the man relented to the obsessiveness in his thoughts. If this was a prelude of things to come, he refused to resign to the temptation that crippled him.
The malign fixation of her closeness was fervently eating him alive. Peering out into the blackness, the expanse of the astral garden reflected a myriad of incandescence in his dark eyes. He wondered how far he would have to travel to feel that kind of intoxication again.
And he wondered, the monster traced the length of his scar once more. Euphoria set in, if only for a moment, as he reset the dizzing film to see her ghost illuminating the night as if she were as vibrant as the snow.