She was beginning to reek. Her nose scrunched up in disgust.
Not even on Jakku had she been so dirty and smelly for such a long time.
The last shower she had was the evening before he took her and he had taken her yesterday. Out of their fight she came out drenched in sweat and covered in dirt and now the foul odour of her unwashed body was becoming a bit too much even for the room's air-conditioning.
How he felt about her not washing herself didn't bother her much. From the very beginning of them living together he decided he was going to be shameless, so she decided to be shameless too.
On the first night of her captivity she found out that behind closed doors Kylo Ren didn't care one bit about decency and modesty.
That evening, hours after her dinner had been brought up to her, he returned to his quarters in a noticeably foul mood.
She wished she could get information about what happened to make him so displeased, but despite of her curiosity she had no intention of trying to strike up a conversation with him. In her mind she imagined Resistance ships following his trail and the thought of her friends possibly being near made her ease up a little.
The room lit up in the brief period the door was open and Rey could see the backs of two sentry Stormtroopers standing on each side.
Kylo took his mask off and it made a loud bang against the metal surface of the table on which he put it. After that he went straight into the bathroom, walking right past her and not acknowledging that she was in the sofa next to the bathroom door and still wide awake. She heard him turn on the water in the shower and had no other choice but to listen as it splattered on the glass of the shower doors.
He would be finished soon and go to bed, she told herself reassuringly, and then she would finally be able to sleep.
Once he finished and opened the bedroom door herb-scented steam started filling the room, so intense that she was not far from covering her nose. When he walked back into the room, barefoot and still lazily rubbing his hair with a small towel, she was introduced to the sight of his completely naked body. Water droplets still clung to his back and legs, she noticed, and she leaned her head backward and closed her eyes in frustration, not wishing to see more.
He wasn't the first naked man she saw and by growing up Jakku she was used to indecency, but she still thought he could have spared her the sight.
As much as she despised him, the treacherous part of her mind already burned the image of his exposed pale skin into her memory and she could not help but appreciate how well defined the muscles of his body were.
She could hear the doors of the closet being opened and shut again and after that she could hear him dressing himself for the night.
At least he didn't sleep naked, she thought, relieved.
"Rey," she heard him say. He sounded firm but also a little uncertain.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes and looked at him, doing her best not to seem embarrassed when she looked him in the eye.
He was wearing black pants that looked very airy and comfortable, but his chest was naked for her to see. Apart from the bulging muscles she noticed that it was partially covered in silky black hair and that a trail of it lead down into the edge of his pants.
She felt herself flush, not being able to resist it, as her eyes went even lower.
He was a very attractive man, one of the most attractive she had ever seen and she was without human touch for so long that she couldn't help but react to the sight of him.
She knew that he knew how she was feeling. She could feel him prodding near in her mind, not even asking for access but letting her know that he was there and that he was aware of the uninvited rush of blood in her body.
"What?" she asked in the rudest tone of voice she could manage as she looked him in the eye defiantly.
"Take a shower and come to bed," he said, putting his hands into his pockets, pausing there as she cocked an eyebrow at him. That was a reasonable request on his part. It did sound more like a request than a command, but he should bloody well know that she would do the exact opposite of whatever he asked of her.
"I've told you already that I won't to touch you. You don't need to fear me," he said in a voice a bit softer than before, probably in an effort to make the statement more believable. He proceeded to lower himself between the sheets, not waiting for her answer. He's said all he could on the subject and if she refused the only thing he could do is overpower her and fling her under the showerhead but such a fight was not worth wrecking half the ship for.
"I don't fear you," she said as she watched body disappear beneath the comforter, and she meant it. She wasn't afraid of herself either, despite her reaction to his state of undress.
She would stay in the sofa for the night and for all the nights to come if necessary. It was a matter of pride. Sleeping with the enemy, even in the tamest way, was not an option.
Doing her best to defy and annoy him, though, was an obligation.
That is why after the second day of her imprisonment was passing, when the intensity of her stench was beginning to peek, she felt quite satisfied with herself. Even though her payback was very immature, she was willing to bet that she put him in the sort of situation he never thought he would find himself in.
He was visibly appalled when he last left the room, not saying anything but walking out of the door so fast that it put a grin on her face.
Enough was enough, though.
She had to take a shower before he returns for the night. If she remained stubborn and dirty he would probably have to call in someone to hose her down and she had to admit to herself that she wouldn't be able to hold it against him.
As much as she wished to annoy him further, she swallowed her pride and went into the bathroom. She stripped slowly and found it to be quite a task because her body still ached all over. There was a very large mirror above the sink and in it she could see just how much of her skin was covered in blue and purple bruises. Thankfully there were no cuts, except for a few minor ones which were healing properly and didn't need further attention. She threw her torn and dirty clothes on the floor behind the door, not knowing what else to do with them.
Once in the shower she watched the water turn brown on the white tiles as she stepped into the warm spray. She washed her body meticulously with a brick of yellow soap – his herb-scented one, she realized belatedly, until the water turned clear again.
She wrapped herself in a towel that lay on a shelf next to the glass doors of the shower and went back into the room to find something to wear. He told her that the left side of the closet contained clothes specifically put there for her use.
Upon opening it she discovered that it did indeed contain many female undergarments from which she picked out the plainest she could find, glad that they fit comfortably, then moved on to finding actual clothes. There were no shirts or pants or anything similar to what she was used to wearing. Instead the closet was stacked with dresses which, upon inspecting some of them, she found to be elegant and at the same time practical but she had no intention of looking her best for him.
She closed the closet doors, annoyed, and turned instead for his side. Upon opening it she was welcomed by stacks of black fabrics. After making a bit of a mess from her search she dug out a shirt and the same type of pants he used as his pyjamas.
Once fully clothed she got back into her sofa and went back to staring blankly at the ceiling.
She realised that she now smelled just like him and she half-wished that she could get back into the shower and rinse the smell off.
He made no comments about her state of dress when he returned, but he did however change his expression into what could only be read as relief and suddenly, with a pang of regret, she wished that she was dirty again.
Her neck was throbbing with pain.
It was the fourth night she was stubbornly spending on the sofa, refusing to lay down beside him despite the fact that he didn't cross the imaginary boundary which separated his side of the bed from hers.
The faintest light came from the ceiling and illuminated his sleeping silhouette on the opposite side of the room. He was lying on his stomach with his hands under the pillow. She watched him with a burning jealousy, wishing that that she too could sprawl out her body and relax her aching muscles instead of making the pain worse for herself by sleeping in an unnatural half-sitting position.
In fact, that bed of his was beginning to look very inviting, despite the fact that its detestable owner was sleeping in it.
She was acting like a child all these days, she had to admit that to herself. It could be weeks, possibly even months before she manages to break herself out or someone comes to rescue her and if she remained sleeping on the sofa she felt like her neck might just snap from the pain.
She took a deep breath, as if she was about to plunge in a body of cold water, and sat up slowly, walking over to the bed.
While she was hovering at the edge of the bed, gathering courage, she felt glad that his face was turned away from her. Otherwise she knew that she wouldn't be able to get in. She watched his exposed naked back and the black locks that gently fell on the pillow like a crown around his head and told herself that this will be no different from sleeping next to Poe or Finn when they all had their sleeping bags right next to each other's while away on missions.
If she steered her imagination in that direction hard enough she could almost make herself believe that it actually was Poe with the similar head of messy black hair and that she was making a lot of fuss about nothing.
Almost.
She lifted her side of the comforter and slid in very gently, dreading that she would wake him up. She slowly managed to snuggle in and adjust her body into the most comfortable position without making too big of a disturbance. She relished in the feeling of tension being released from her neck and back, enough so that she almost would have forgotten that there was someone laying next to her, had she not heard him whisper a soft and quiet goodnight.
His breathing pattern hadn't changed one bit from the time she was still sitting in the sofa and up until that point. Was he awake the entire time?
She was half tempted to make a snarky reply and go back into the sofa had it not been for the ache in her neck and its gradual release due to the comfort of his pillows.
So she decided to dismiss that he was awake without answering him, realising now when she was already next to him that it didn't actually matter.
Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far!