(2)
Nightshade & Sakura | Chapter 2: The Shape of Her
Beginning Notes from the Author
I'm baaacckkkkk with an update. Two weeks of working on this every day. I'm dead.
Anyway, before we begin, below is a list of unfamiliar words in Japanese and their English translations.
"Hisashiburi desu ne." - "Long time, no see."
"Ne" - Basically means "isn't it" or "right?"
"Samui desu ne." - "Cold, isn't it?"
"Nankai desu ka?" - "What floor (as in building)?"
"Rokkai." - "Sixth floor."
"Ja ne!" - "See you!" Very informal.
Enjoy, lovelies!
Kylo
Up and down Kylo paced floor three. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. And turn. Again. What room was she in? What room, what room, what room?
He stopped, running a hand vigorously over his face—one, two, three times, and then again.
Her eyes burning into his. The feel of her body closing around him... the way she… No. He needed to stop thinking about that.
It wasn't the first time he'd done something stupid like this, but with her? With Rey? He'd known her since she was a fucking child. A ragged breath escaped his lips. You really fucked up this time. She hates you. You know that.
He had condoms in his wallet. It would have been so easy to do the responsible, rational thing.
Christ, he was thirty one years old. Yeah, thirty one years old and still fucking stupid, that ever-present voice whispered in the back of his mind.
He pulled out his personal cell phone and attempted to call her through his email again for the tenth time. And as he expected—no answer once again.Goddamnit!
He groaned and threw the phone on the floor, realizing his error a second too late.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was the only one phone he had left. Frantically, he picked it off of the ground, turning it over and over. No scratches. No marks. He breathed out.
He really needed to get a case. He could already imagine the talk he'd have with Snoke about destroying yet another work cell phone. That's the third phone in two months, Ren! And it's coming out of your hide!
He pressed the side power button to wake up the screen. 1 A.M. He'd been pacing for well over an hour now—well once he'd finished chewing out the hotel staff for not answering their goddamn phone earlier and notified them about the faulty elevator. Now he had to—
Someone was coming from the stairwell. He walked leisurely, acting as if he were returning to his room. Thankfully, whoever it was ignored him and went in the other direction.
It was hopeless. She wasn't going to come out any time soon. And he had no way to know her room number. What did he expect? What could he do? His head was pounding. He smelled of smoke, booze, and her. That sweet, floral smell reminding him of jasmine and lavender and…
He brought his shirt to his nose. How good her body had felt. Softer, hotter, better than he'd ever imagined. Better than anything he'd ever experienced.
Yeah, so good, in fact, that he'd ignored basic, common sense, and came inside of her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He needed a shower.
And maybe a fucking Prozac.
Where is she? Where is she? Where is—
Without thinking, Kylo took a sip of his tea, instantly coating his tongue in liquid fire. Damnit.
He looked down at his phone with bleary eyes. 6:30 A.M. The breakfast area of the hotel had been open for thirty minutes already, and he'd snapped up the table with the best view of the elevators, watching as each person that was clearly not Rey exit. What the fuck was she doing? Sleeping? How the fuck could she sleep after what had happened between them? He hadn't slept a second. Hadn't tried. He'd taken a shower and paced his hotel room, calling her fifty more times before finally giving up.
He took another swig of his tea, burning his tongue once again. The cup slipped from his grasp, covering him in scalding hot liquid.
There she was—coming out of the elevator, walking towards the dining area.
Dabbing at his clothes, he rushed to her, trying to control his breathing. She was dressed casually, but beautifully—jeans that clung to her curves. Those curves, pressed to him, dancing against his body. No, no, no. Focus. He shook his head, fixating on her face.
As soon as she spotted him, Rey froze, eyes growing wider. It was too late. He was faster.
"Why haven't you answered my calls?" he blurted out.
Her eyebrows furrowed, lips raising into a sneer.
Yup, good going, Kylo. He looked down. "Sorry. Good morning."
When she didn't reply, he glanced back up, meeting her gaze, studying the bruised, dark circles underneath her hazel eyes, her face holding not a touch of makeup. If she hadn't been sleeping, what the fuck had she been doing?
"What do you want?" she finally said, exhaling.
"We need to talk."
She scoffed, trying—and failing—to move past him. "We have nothing to discuss. Now, will you get the hell out of my way?"
"Come on. I wanna talk about last night."
She sighed, tired eyes meeting his. "You know what—fine. Let's talk. You should have warned me that you had no intention of..." She looked around. "Pulling out."
"Jesus, Rey, keep your voice down."
"Oh? But I thought you wanted to talk?"
"You're being unreasonable again."
Her mouth hung open, and she attempted, harder this time, to get around him. "Let. Me. Pass."
"This involves me too."
She shook her head, looking in the other direction. "They make a little pill for situations like this."
"You have to get it at a clinic here. It's prescription only."
"I know that, thanks."
"We can go now. I'll pay—"
"Ha! No, thank you. I'm not going to be potentially poked, prodded, and spread apart for no reason when I can get the bloody thing at my local chemist."
"When you're back in London? Won't it be too late?"
"I have five days." She put her hands on her hips. "Good enough answer?"
Kylo breathed out, searching her eyes. They stared back at him, wide and harsh, reflecting back his every mistake, his every slip of the tongue. Last night had meant nothing to her, he realized, feeling like an idiot. And perhaps it had meant nothing to him too. What did he know? There wasn't anything between them, no. And feelings? Feelings were fleeting, meaningless. He may be stupid, but at thirty one, he'd witnessed the end of enough relationships to learn that at least.
And he hadn't seen her in eight years. A lifetime ago. When she was only an insecure teenager, eyes mistrustful. But when she'd looked at him, when she'd looped her arm around his, he was the best person in the world. Like every awful thing he'd ever said was in a language she didn't—couldn't—understand yet.
But now. Now, her eyes echoed back what he'd always feared.
He moved out of her way, and without another breath, she flew past him. He watched her go, confused by the ache in his chest. It was different, sharper than anything he'd experienced since that day eight years ago—that day when he'd killed every trace of Ben Solo —the weak person he'd been.
Or so he'd thought.
But no, last night had been a mistake. That much was clear. Shaking his head, he walked out of the hotel doors, running a hand through his hair.
He knew the ache would pass. It always did. He lit a cigarette, looking out at the tall buildings around him, trying to blur and erase her face from his mind. Her delicate, soft features, hardened, cold.
He took a drag, left the feeling where he'd left all of the others, and breathed out.
"Ben?" A small, familiar woman said, English still impeccable and accent-free, walking toward where he sat on the patio of her restaurant. "What are you doing in Kyoto?"
"Yuki," Kylo breathed, taking in her dark hair—still long, still smooth and well-kept. He forced himself to smile, a rare beam of late afternoon sunlight momentarily blinding his eyes. "Hisashiburi desu ne." A memory—a memory from last spring threatened to pull him down. Last spring in Kyoto, tangled in bed. Yuki's laughter.
"Yes, it's been a long time, ne? When Jun said that you made a reservation, I almost couldn't believe it." She sat down in the empty seat across from him, brushing hair out of her brown eyes. "Are you here for the conference?"
"Yes and no." He brought his drink—whiskey, neat—to his lips, pausing before taking a sip, trying to calm the thoughts swirling in his brain.
He had made a reservation to this restaurant her family owned, Unmei, weeks ago, planning to see her as usual. How long had it been since he'd eaten here? And when was the last time he'd been to Kyoto? He vaguely remember his time with Yuki last year, but that seemed ages ago. He expected much of the same. Drinks after her shift. Maybe a movie. Then she'd come back to his hotel. That was their usual push and pull. The way it'd been for years since they'd broken up.
But after last night, after Rey… Maybe this time, for once, they'd be the friends he'd always insisted they were and it wouldn't lead to anything.
Yet, before he could open his mouth to say more, a shimmering glint caught his eye. He stared down at it, cocking his head to the side. "Are you engaged?"
She grinned, wide and wholesome. "Yes! Last month. I wanted to tell you but…"
He swallowed. "Congratulations."
"Thank you."
Silence fell. He'd known this moment would come sooner or later. After all, he'd been the one to end it with her years ago. So why did his stomach ache at the thought?
"I'd stay and catch up with you," she said, standing up. "But I need to get back. It's only 5:30, and we're busy. Good luck, and enjoy the blossoms. Peak season right now, ne?"
"Yeah, take care," he choked out, sighing. "Good to see you."
"Always. Call if you need anything."
When she left, he put a hand to his face and massaged his eyes. Everything was always changing, shifting, while he stayed the same. Went to work. Secured more contracts. Practically ran First English for Snoke. Work. Contracts. Repeat. All the while having as much meaningless sex as he could get. And where did all of that leave him?
He caught a glimpse of shoulder-length brown hair and skinny jeans sitting on the park bench underneath a large cherry blossom tree, drink in hand.
He stood up and began to walk, entranced, intent on her, on Rey. "Yuki?" he called through the front door of the restaurant absentmindedly. "Hold my table. I'll be back in five minutes."
Ben! her voice echoed in his mind—a vision from all that time ago. A vision he'd tried to bury and burn away with each woman he took into his bed, with each cigarette, with each night at an izakaya. Black suits, black dresses. Rain. Endless, unyielding rain.
She'd been the only one. The only one who'd seen him standing far into the background at his father's funeral—her eyes meeting his. No fear. No judgment. Still. Even after the news and despite what he'd done. She'd rushed toward him, arms outstretched. Ben! Ben! Ben!
He shook his head to clear the memory, focusing on the vision of her before him now.
He watched her chest rise and fall, eyes wandering over the canal, a smile tugging at her cheeks. Her gaze lingered on each sakura tree, as if she were memorizing every petal falling down from above like a canopy of pink raindrops.
He should turn now. Leave her alone. He'd done enough. More than enough. But he couldn't stop his feet.
"The weather is shit, isn't it?" he said before he could think better of it. "Too cloudy."
Her face fell, but yet she didn't look at him. "No. It's beautiful."
"It was better last year," he said, not taking his eyes off of her.
"No." She shook her head and pointed across the path, her smile returning. "Look."
His eyes traveled the length of her arm, and then found what she was directing him to—a burnt orange glow streaming through thick clouds, bouncing off the fog and cherry blossoms alike as the sun set in the distance.
She sighed, taking a sip of her to-go iced coffee, the magic vanishing from her features. "What do you want?"
He breathed out, sitting down next to her. "I'm sorry about last night."
She shrugged. "So am I."
That stung. He tried to hide it from her, to recover, but his breaths were still ragged nonetheless. "I have a table. A reservation. At Unmei. Right now." He pointed to his table on the patio. "One of the most popular restaurants in Kyoto. Can I make it up to you?"
She sighed again. "What do you want from me?"
"Have dinner with me."
"I'm not hungry."
"Then coffee."
She pointed to her cup like he were the biggest idiot alive.
"Then the pleasure of my company?"
"Ha! I hope you're being sarcastic."
"I was." He smiled sadly, pausing."I get it. I've wasted enough of your time. See you around, I'm sure." He stood up and began to walk back to the restaurant.
"Wait!" she called out, sighing.
He turned back around, her eyes finally meeting his. Was he dreaming? He had to be dreaming.
"Dinner. Okay? Just dinner." She stood up. "But I swear to God, if you mention last night, I will…" She shook her head, walking past him. "Let's not talk about it. It didn't happen, okay?"
"Yeah," he muttered, staring at her back, heart thudding. "Sure."
He caught up to her, and together, they walked to the patio. Nervously, he moved to pull the chair out for her, but then thought better of it. That would be...too eager. He couldn't ruin it now.
Why did she accept his offer? Was it all a game—a heartless trick? No, it couldn't be...could it? He'd expected her to laugh in his face and walk away. Or at the very least, coldly refuse. But accept? Now what was he going to do?
She sat down across from him, unfolding a napkin onto her lap and picking up the menu from the table. "So this is like a fusion restaurant? What do you usually get here?"
"The carbonara. It's not very Japanese, though." He reached over and pointed it out to her on the menu.
She looked down, nodding. "Hmm. That actually sounds quite good."
"Yeah, and they make a pretty great peach tea for spring."
"What're you drinking?" Rey looked down at the near-empty tumbler in his hand.
He followed her gaze. "Whisky neat. You know you can get whatever you want. On me."
"You're drinking whiskey? After last night?" She rolled her eyes. "And you're not paying again."
"I don't mind. I make more than you do."
She stopped and took a deep breath, eyes glazing over.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Yeah, you never mean it like that," she said, closing the menu. She tapped her fingers on the table, and looked away, a palm supporting her face.
"So…" He cleared his throat. "How did you secure the ambassador position for the English Resistance?"
"Mara wanted me to help. And Leia wanted a newcomer—someone with 'fresh eyes.'"
"Did they send you by yourself?"
"That's none of your business."
"It's just a question."
She sighed. "Yes. And I can handle it. Anyway, Amilyn is coming to the conference. To translate."
He shook his head. "You've been in this business for what—two months? I wouldn't do that to you if you worked for me."
"This again? Alright, let's hear it then. What would you do?"
He pondered the question, a hand to his lips. What exactly would he do if he had her? He could almost imagine her now, typing next to him, her smile filling their sterile office in Chicago, brightening every blank wall. "I would ensure you were comfortable. Secure. I would be there with you, always. I'd pay you double, triple what you're making now."
She smiled tightly, guarded. "And do you sleep with all of your coworkers?"
He looked down, shaking his head. "You're not my coworker."
"Fair enough." She paused, shrugging. "Shall we order?"
He raised his hand, attracting Yuki's attention. She finished pouring water for another table, and then came over, notepad in hand.
"You didn't tell me you were bringing a date!" Yuki said.
"I'm not his date," Rey stated, coldly.
He cleared his throat. "Yeah. No date. But uh... Rey, this is Yuki. Maybe you remember her?"
Rey shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not meeting Yuki's eyes. "No, I'm sorry."
"Rey! Hisashiburi ne! I thought you looked familiar. You've grown." She turned to him. "Your cousin, right?"
"Somewhat," he admitted, fighting to control his voice. "My uncle's girlfriend's daughter."
"Right! Well, good to see you again. What would you like?"
"I'll take another whiskey and then the carbonara. And Rey will have—"
"A peach tea, thank you. And the sashimi plate... and kebabs."
"Sure!" Yuki wrote down their orders, took their menus, and left again.
Rey tapped her fingers on the table once more. "I see why you come here."
"What do you mean?"
"To see your ex-girlfriend."
He chuckled. "She's engaged."
"Bet that was disappointing for you."
"No. Not really."
"So, I'm curious. Why did you cut off my family?"
He paused, surprised. He'd always known that question would come, yes, but it seemed too sudden, almost forced. "You wouldn't understand."
"I understand far more than you think."
"I doubt that."
"You knew Han had a heart condition. And yet you still lashed out at him."
He cocked his head to the side. "Is that what they told you?"
"It doesn't matter. It's true."
"One, I didn't know about his condition. Two, he wasn't some damn hero. He didn't come to save my soul. He came to yell at me for joining First English and not answering his calls like I was still a fucking teenager."
"You're lying."
"No. I'm not."
Her eyes seemed to relax at that, confusion dancing with the hazel, gaze direct and focused, perhaps thinking, perhaps doubtful, perhaps unsure.
Their drinks arrived, the distraction breaking her stare. He studied her, watching as she avoided meeting Yuki's eyes, her whole body tensing. He wondered at that, a finger pressed to his lips.
"You don't like her," he observed once Yuki was out of earshot.
"You're delusional."
Kylo chuckled, amused. "You're jealous."
"You're jealous," she mocked in a fake, deep American-accent. "Ha! Right. Real jealous. You can't even speak proper English."
He smirked, licking his lips, eyes narrowing at her playfully. "You didn't seem to care about my…" He paused, switching accents. "Dreadfully improper English last night."
She shot him an icy glance. "I was clearly off my trolley."
"What?" he burst out into laughter.
"What? Why you laughin'? You've never heard that term? I was sozzled, smashed, clearly."
"Sozzled?" he repeated back to her, trying his best to imitate her again. "Your accent's come a long way." He remembered how she'd sounded the first day Mara brought her home. That thick, Cockney accent like a pint-sized Adele. Although, he knew Rey couldn't sing even if she somehow managed to swindle the best vocal coach in London. He shuddered, remembering her version of Britney Spears at karaoke. To say she sounded like a dying cat... that would be kind. She didn't have that asset, thankfully.
She paused, shaking her head. "You left around the time I was trying to find a balance between my British accent and your parents' American accents."
"Then why do I remember you sounding like a pirate?"
Rey slapped a hand to her forehead, her cheeks flushing. "Out of everything you could possibly remember. It's not my fault! It was that stuuupid Disney franchise!"
"Or your obsession with Jack Sparrow?" He leaned forward, a smile on his face. "I was wondering why you were drinking so much rum last night, but it all makes sense now."
Rey sat up straighter. "You promised not to talk about last night."
"I made no such promise," he said, his smile growing at her unamused expression. "Right. Right. No talking about last night."
Eventually, their food arrived, steam rising. And as usual, Rey tensed when Yuki set the plates down, struggling to divert her eyes. It brought a smile to his lips. She couldn't lie about her emotions. They were always displayed so plainly on her face—without a hint of guile. She didn't seem to feel the need to hide them like most people did—behind a carefully constructed mask.
But still, she was every bit of a woman. A woman that made his heart beat faster. A woman that made him—
He shifted in his chair, trying to stop the desire from flaring, and passed her one of the disposable hand towels, hands shaking a bit. He couldn't think aboutthat now. It would never happen again. He knew that. And he couldn't fuck it up—not this time.
"Oh, right. These," she said, taking it from him. "Sometimes I wish we had these more in England."
They ate in silence for a few moments. He, focusing on the food and stealing glances at her, and she, looking in every direction but his, almost as if she were afraid of him. He'd been wondering about that, truthfully, but he wouldn't verbalize it.
"How is it?" he finally said, putting down his fork.
"It's quite nice. Thank you for the recommendation."
"Yeah, no problem. I used to practically live here years ago. Was more my home than my actual apartment."
"I remember coming here once I think with you. It's different now though." She flashed him a quick smile.
"They've put more money into it since then."
"That's nice. So do you always hang around your engaged ex-girlfriends?"
He leaned back leisurely in his chair, putting his hands together, entertained. "You're so easy to read."
She didn't respond; instead, she rolled her eyes and went back to eating, once again evading his gaze.
Silence fell after that, but this time, it didn't concern him. Not at all. No matter how much she glanced in the other direction, he couldn't stop thinking about that one, little detail she tried hard to deny and cover: she was jealous. Jealous of Yuki. And the implications of that? It brought a smile to his face.
For the first time in years, he felt…
Hope.
"That was quite good. Thank you," Rey said as they left the restaurant, brushing hair out of her eyes.
"The view didn't widely deteriorate with my presence this time?"
She cracked a smile, punching him playfully on the arm. "Stop mocking my accent. You're not half bad when you're quiet."
Kylo chuckled and placed his hands in his pockets. "So… Truce?"
She stopped walking momentarily, face serious. Had he said something wrong, too much? He was about to backtrack when the corners of her lips began to curl into a slight smile.
"Perhaps," she said, tilting her head to the side and walking ahead of him. He watched her go, shaking his head.
She looked back at him. "Are you coming? Wouldn't think you'd miss a chance to walk me back to my hotel."
"I have permission now?"
"In five seconds you won't unless you start walking."
He caught up with her, chest lighter. What was it about her that made him feel like this? He couldn't put words to it, but somehow, he felt more comfortable, more at ease. Like he could breathe for the first time in years.
Beside him she walked in step, eyes glancing at the backlit trees in wonder, delicate, soft light floating across her face. He stared at her, wishing he could touch her, wishing he could—
"What you starin' at?" she said after a moment.
He shook his head. "You. Just you."
She stopped, taking a step back. "And insult coming in three, two, one..."
"No. You're." He shook his head again, fighting to keep the word contained. "Nevermind."
"Go on, then. You've never hesitated to speak your mind before."
"No, really. It was nothing." Exquisite. Beautiful. The words hovered on his lips. But he wouldn't release them.
"Kylo Ren has nothing to say? Shocker."
"Hard to believe, isn't it?"
"Dreadfully," she said, her face slowly widening into a larger smile than before, all her teeth showing.
He didn't respond, turning to look at his feet, hands still tucked into his pockets. And soon enough, they came to the end of the trees, the dim, twinkling lights fading and blending into the orange glow of the city.
"Oh that was... beautiful," she said, taking a breath.
"Yeah, it was."
Nightshade and Sakura was in view now, so close to the park, and as he began to realize with every step, closer to the end of their night together and to when they'd part ways, perhaps for good.
They walked in silence for the rest of the way, and he fought to keep his eyes focused straight ahead once again. There was something there he couldn't put words to. She'd changed, yes, of course. How couldn't she? He'd seen that last night at the izakaya, but tonight, there was something almost unguarded, almost raw about her eyes.
It didn't matter. It was over. She'd leave. And who knew if he'd see her before the conference? A few coincidences and nothing more. Likely to not be repeated again. That much he knew. It had to be—
He pulled himself from his thoughts and opened the door to the hotel for her, the night air overtaken by the artificial, light smell of cherries—from whatever fragrance they were using.
"Thank you," she muttered, walking through.
She pressed the button to the elevator, finally turning around to look at him for the first time since they left the park. "Early night for you too?"
"Yeah. I have some work to do tomorrow morning. To prepare for the conference."
"Oh... I see."
An older Japanese lady appeared beside them, bundled in her coat. She smiled at him, leaning on her cane slightly. "Samui desu ne," she said.
He opened his mouth to answer, but Rey was quicker.
"Samui desu ne," Rey said, flashing him a smug smile.
The woman nodded her head, and the elevator opened. He and Rey moved to the back, letting the woman take priority in the front.
"My first point of the night," Rey whispered.
"What are you talking about?"
"You can't win at everything all the time, can you?" she said cryptically.
"Nankai desu ka?" he asked the woman, fingers hovering over the buttons.
"Rokkai," she answered.
He pressed the buttons for their collective floors, and then turned back to Rey. "Are you keeping score?"
"Maybe I am."
Rey's eyes grew wide. Kylo followed her gaze to the woman's hands closing on the metal handle bar and chuckled, images from last night coming back.
Folding his hands behind his back, a laugh escaped his lips again, but he didn't say anything. He'd promised technically.
The elevator stopped at Rey's floor, but she didn't move. Instead, she stared ahead blankly. He wondered at that for a moment, deciding on what he was going to say.
Then he realized and pressed the close door button.
Kylo reached a hand out, softly stroking her back, half expecting her to flinch from his touch. But she didn't. She began to lean into him, the corners of her lips upturning. Back arching, lips pressed to his, fingers running, tearing, down his back, her eyes—
He shifted awkwardly, reaching down to reposition himself. She leaned harder into him, placing her lips next to his ear.
"Having problems?" she whispered, low, so seductively that he felt himself stiffen further. "My second point of the night! Thank you very much."
He moved his hand lower and lower across her back until he grazed over her bottom. She gasped quietly, her mouth opening.
And by the time they reached the six floor, the desire had become more urgent and demanding. What game was she playing? he wondered, fighting to repress the hunger, fighting to stop himself from taking her here, now, when they were clearly not alone. Not yet.
"Ja ne!" the woman called to them, exiting at what had to be the slowest pace possible, every second nagging at him as he watched her toddle away
Finally, the door closed, and without another second, he pressed Rey to the wall, inching close enough for her to feel his desire in his jeans. "I thought last night didn't happen," he muttered, caressing her cheek with his thumb.
She shrugged. "Maybe I changed my mind."
Smiling, he cupped her face, closing the distance between them... closer and closer... but she—
Turned her face away.
He looked down at her, fighting to control his confusion. "I thought you changed your mind."
"No. I said maybe."
He breathed in sharply, but backed away. So she wanted to play. Well, he could play too. And he had ten years on her in these games—more than enough experience to win.
And win he would.
The doors opened to his floor, and he began to walk to his room, amused to hear her footsteps close behind him. And when he arrived, she was still there.
Still. He stiffened more.
Rey entered after him, turning her back to shut the door. But before she could turn around, he was on her, body pressing hers up against the metal. "Don't you have your own room to go to?" he murmured into her ear.
"I wanted to see how the man, who makes so much more than I do, lives."
He pulled away, smirking and tossing his coat on the dresser. "What do you—" he said, beginning to turn around.
But when he did, he found her in front of him, hazel eyes looking up, mouth a straight line. She grabbed his shirt, undoing each button with precise determination, gauging his reaction. She let it fall to the floor and ran her fingers across his chest before finally reaching up to cup his face.
Then, her lips were on his with the same passion as last night. He clutched her face, pulling away just enough so that he could look into her eyes, disorientated, thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Are you sure?"
She replied by shrugging off every piece of clothing—coat, shirt, jeans, underwear, slowly, carefully, eyes never once leaving his, as if she were waiting. Until she stood. Bare. In front of him. The dim lights dancing across her features. She was indescribable, beautiful, magnificent, exqui—
He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. She wanted one thing and one thing only from him. That was their arrangement, clearly. An arrangement he was well familiar with. He hadn't had a relationship in eight years. Not since Yuki.
So, with that thought, he took her into his arms, breathing against her skin. Was this real? Was she…
And she. She reached down into his pants, taking all of him into her hands. "You're better than average," she said, stroking him.
He laughed. "Average?"
Rey shook her head, hands rushing to tug off the rest of his clothes. No sense of her earlier hesitation present, she crushed her lips into his.
Locked together, he pushed her onto the bed, reaching down to run his hands across her center. "Condom," she breathed. "We should use a condom."
He pulled away from her lips, panting, but continued to rub her. "Why? I'm clean. And you're taking the—"
"Condom," she repeated, gesturing to her purse on the ground.
He rolled his eyes, but reached for her purse anyway.
"Wait!" She seized his arm. "We should use yours instead."
"Okay, but why?"
"Let's just use yours."
She was hiding something. He liked that, but he wouldn't allow it to happen. Disregarding her protests, he stuck his hand into her purse and quickly found a strip of foil packets, pulling them out and turning them over.
"What?" he laughed, hard, clutching his stomach. "What the hell are these?"
Rey glared at him, dark eyelashes fluttering in disapproval. "I told you to use yours."
"So Rey, baby, I have a question."
"Don't you dare. Kylo, I swear to Go—"
"Do you want to see Big Ben?"
His entire body rocked with laughed. She stared at him, still unamused.
"Oh, come on," he said, caressing her cheek.
Then, she too broke out into laughter, face finally brightening. "You are terrible."
Disregarding her comment, he tore into one of the packets and slid on the thin, strip of latex, heart pounding as her eyes watched his each and every move.
And then, he pressed into her, clutching her to him. She inhaled sharply, digging fingernails into his back, hips struggling to find and sync his rhythm. She was warm and wet. Perfect. But the more he thrust, the more he noticed. There was something not right, something off about the feeling.
As if she could sense his discomfort, she stopped, pulling back enough to look at him. "The condom," she whispered, beginning to take it off.
"Are you... are you sure?"
Rey nodded and set it on the side table. "If I'm going to suffer from that stupid pill, we might as well make it count, huh?"
He smiled, kissing her gingerly, sucking on her lips. Then, he was inside her once more, the complete, beautiful feeling of her body back again, but this time—full force. "You are... God…"
Kylo took her, over and over again, like last night. But his eyes never left hers, never left those dancing brown-gold rings burning below him. How could they? He wanted to meld his body with hers in a way that he had never wanted to with any other woman. Never once. Not before her. He wished he could channel that savageness, that rage he always felt during sex, but he couldn't. No, he couldn't. Not when she was below him, staring at him like that.
Was this just sex?
Perhaps sensing his thoughts again, she compelled him to change positions, shifting so that she was above him, dominating him.
And he let her, mesmerized by the movement of her hips, the moans floating from her lips, each intake and release of breath. He wanted to memorize her, every single piece of her body. In case.
Kylo didn't let himself finish the thought. Instead, he gripped her hips and turned her around, entering her from behind with such force that she gasped. He ignored it and continued to drive into her savagely, trying to erase that position from his mind. Watching her like that, with her above him was not wise. Not if he wanted to maintain their arrangement.
She cried out, louder this time. He refused to care, replying only by thrusting harder, faster, erasing that memory of her with every push.
"Ben," she choked out. "Slow down."
He tensed at the sound of that name. What gave her the right to use that name? Not after he'd tried for so long to bury it.
He sped up more, feeling the emotions surge through him—an intoxicating concoction of anger and pleasure that only turned him on further.
"Ben," she repeated, more desperate now. "Slow... down. I'm not… going anywhere…" Another gasp. "I don't want this to end too soon."
He responded by thrusting even harder. Thrusting so hard that everything seemed to disappear into nothing but darkness, spots spinning across his vision. A little further, a little more, and he'd be there—lost in it all. Where he belonged. Where everything made sense, didn't hurt anymore. That place where he could—
"Ben!" She untangled herself from him, turned around, and gripped his shoulders, shaking him a bit.
He stared at her, dazed. "What... what's wrong?"
"It was..." She shook her head.
"What?"
She cradled his face in her hands, pulling him closer to her, the dusky light casting shadows across her sharp cheekbones. "Like you were somewhere else. Are you okay?"
He nodded, breaking eye contact. What had that been?
Her lips against his, the softness drawing him from the darkness entirely. Sweet, tender, like she were trying not to hurt him. He kissed her back and glided his tongue across hers, fingers brushing her face.
It suddenly occurred to him. No one had ever kissed him like that. Never this gently, as if she wanted to take and share every hurt, every piece of strife and perhaps make it her own.
He placed her on his lap, and softer this time, pressed into her, gripping her waist as tightly as he could. She, in turn, took his face into her hands and kissed him and kissed him until her breaths were shallow and ragged against his lips.
She tightened around him invitingly, beautifully, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He pushed her onto the bed, longing to fuse her pleasure with his. Just a little more and he would—
Like last night, it was too much. He couldn't control it. She was... she was too…
He was coming. No warning. Savage and raw, pulsing inside her, releasing every last bit of himself. He clutched her to him, gripping and holding onto the pleasure with a fervency that stole the breath from his lips.
She entangled her leg around his, pulling him in deeper as the sensation crested. He moaned against her neck, a hand tightening around her breast. Couldn't think, couldn't breathe, every sense heightened, on edge.
And then, he fell against her chest, panting, shaky hands roaming across her face. He pulled her mouth to his and placed a clumsy kiss on her lips, out of breath.
He stayed like that for a while—locked together, relishing and counting each sigh falling from her mouth. And like earlier, he wanted to memorize it, memorize her, every single part until there was nothing left to know. The shape of her, the feel of her. Until he could paint her from memory alone.
He could kiss her again, whisper things against her hair—things that he hadn't told another person in years. He could do it, act on the urge. Make her look at him. It would be so natural, so—
No. That wasn't right. He rolled over to the other side of the bed, one arm under her, both still breathing hard.
What had he been thinking? He stared at the dark ceiling, hands tensing. They laid like that, unmoving, not speaking. How long, he didn't know. But when he finally turned to face her, a million questions swirling across his tongue, he found her eyes closed, breath even, a smile on her face. At peace. Delicately, he brushed his fingers across her face, studying the shape of her mouth.
How could she drift away like that? As if she had nothing weighing on her shoulders? As if there were nothing left to be said? While his mind raced and raced and raced.
None of that mattered. Yet, as soon as he thought it, he knew it wasn't the truth. But maybe with her lying beside him, warm and peaceful, he could pretend. Pretend that they weren't rivals, that she didn't hate him and wasn't only using him for this.
And maybe pretend that she was his. If only for a night.
So, with that, he mirrored her breathing pattern, closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her, and let everything fade to black.
Author's Notes
If you've made it this far, once again, thank you so much for sticking with me.
For this particular chapter, I listened to "Sorry" by Halsey and "Had Enough" by Breaking Benjamin.
どうもありがとうございました (thank you very much) to my main beta SilverStarwolfe, and my second beta editor, way-of-the-pathfinder. Bex, you have become my BFF, my twin, and the finisher of my thoughts and sentences. Thank you for spending so much time working on this fic with me. And pathfinder, thank you for your lovely comments and suggestions. They help so much! You are wonderful. Please check out their amazing SW fics. Bex: Holding On To Hope. Pathfinder: Guardian of the Night.
Thank you so much again. Next chapter: back to Rey!
— Bee