KYLO

Drained. That's how he felt; his limbs heavy, his bones liquefied. He barely had the strength to stand long enough to deposit Rey on the bed before his knees buckled and he collapsed, kneecaps hitting the floor, head slumped forward, fingers digging into the thick pile of the rug beneath him.

This had been so much harder than when he was learning Force travel, and that had been…harrowing. Not so much the travel itself but the preparation, the need to immerse himself in the dark side, to harness his anger and his fear…it was mostly fear that his master had focused on when he rebelled against the tasks set before him, when he questioned the necessity of what felt like senseless cruelty, digging through his mind to find what frightened him most, then showing him visions of Rey, in the arms of another - the traitor, or the pilot, or sometimes both of them together, slick with sweat, doing every imaginable thing to his precious Rey's perfect body. And then he saw her face, that look of bliss that should only be for him…

She's a lonely girl, she needs to be loved, she needs someone who will be there for her. Do you really think she'll keep herself for you, when there are so many, warm and willing and present, to love her…

Another vision: she was broken and bleeding in the midst of some battle, ripped to shreds by blaster fire, dying - with someone else's name on her lips.

No, he would not allow that to happen. He would do whatever it took to perfect this skill, and he would find her, bring her to his side and show her that that was where she belonged. He would be her teacher, her master, and she would be his…everything, and in time, in time she would understand that perhaps the dark side was brutal, but the brutality had a purpose, that it was worth it to make the ultimate sacrifice; to do the unthinkable, the despicable, to be despised for doing what was necessary. In time she would see, and they would rule, together. Together.

So he did exactly as his master instructed to strengthen his connection to the dark side; only through perfect obedience could he hope to learn what he needed, Snoke told him. Perfect, unquestioning obedience. He wasn't allowed to try to reach her through the bond, or let her reach him. He was only allowed minimal sleep and food, and no pleasure, not even the grim relief his hand could have brought. There were only tasks to be completed, endless and cruel. He complied, even as the light still inside him rebelled, even as his mind recoiled at what was required of him. Prisoners, soldiers, spies, suspected traitors – he interrogated them, painfully, viciously, finding what little information they had and then, well, then they were no longer of any value. He took no pleasure in it, was never sadistic. A clenched fist, a flick of the wrist. Simple, clean, quick.

They would have died anyway. What difference did it make if he did it instead of a Stormtrooper firing squad?

Still, he wondered, was it truly necessary? Wasn't he ready? Hadn't he dwelt long enough in the darkness to be allowed to learn?

His doubts were met with a nightmare vision of Rey bent over behind an X-Wing as some faceless Resistance pilot rutted into her. It could be happening right now, you could be too late…Rage and terror coursed through his veins at the Snoke's suggestion.

He shoved his misgivings away, reached out to the darkest currents of the Force, pulled them to him, wrapped himself in them, drowned himself in their seductive, numbing embrace. He would do what had to be done; he wouldn't doubt his master again.

He went to his grandfather's fortress on Mustafar and meditated deep in the ancient Sith cave below the castle, letting the darkness that seeped out of the depths of the planet infuse him, shivering with cold despite the searing heat of the lava as the dark side enveloped him.

Villages, temples, suspected rebel outposts, razed, burned, obliterated. Nothing left but dust and ash. He felt nothing, nothing as he walked away.

Finally, he was deemed ready to practice the technique that ripped a hole through the Force and allowed him to move through space with only a thought, leaving behind a trail of darkness, a scar in the Force, in his psyche. Worth it, all worth it to get to her before she let someone else touch her, kiss her, make her fall apart with pleasure. Worth it to have her by his side.

At first he had Force traveled to places he knew, places he had been – Endor, Tatooine. It got easier with time, as did the…preparations. He no longer saw the faces of those he interrogated and dispatched. He only saw her face, tears welling out of her eyes, dripping down her cheeks at the thought that he had forgotten her, as she turned that beautiful, glowing smile toward the traitor as he reached for her hand and led her to his room.

She probably thinks you've forgotten her, left her; she'll find someone who will stay. She probably already has.

Rage ripped through him as his master whispered in his head, and he ignited his lightsaber, slashing at whatever was near. He would prove himself to her, prove he would never forget her, never leave her, prove that he would do anything, anything to have her. And if anyone had touched her, he'd kill them.

He knelt before the holoprojector. "I'm ready," he told his master.

"Good. Goooood." Something that might have once been a smile spread over Snoke's face. "Take her to Mustafar. Do as you will. And at the end of a standard lunar cycle, bring her to me."

Kylo shuddered, steeled himself and closed his eyes, focusing on his objective with single-minded concentration. She was still blocking him, but he knew she would falter eventually, and he could be patient. He could be so patient. He didn't know how long he waited, lost in dark concentration, until he felt it, a spike of pain through the bond, an opening…and once he knew she wasn't truly injured, that no one had hurt her, he knew it was time. He followed the bond, his only destination: Rey. He clawed his way through the Force, surrounded by darkness, pulling himself along that connection with vicious desperation. It took every shred of his power, but then he was there, he was with her, he could smell her – the scorched smell of starship oil, the warm, baking-bread scent of her skin, the sharp, metallic tang of her blood, where she had jammed safety wire into her thumb; he could touch her, taste her - her lips, warm and soft and open for him, and Force she was delicious. But he was weak, he felt his energy failing, and he had to return, bringing her with him, and that was a different challenge. Even unconscious, her Force presence was strong, vibrant, and it fought against the pull of the darkness that dragged them through space to Mustafar.

When they arrived, he was spent.

He leaned his head against the side of the bed and breathed in and out, waiting for his strength to return. Finally he was able to lift his eyes enough to see her. Rey. His beautiful, perfect girl, finally here with him. His eyes roved over her face, took in the little tendrils of hair curling around her ears, the spattering of freckles across her adorable tipped-up nose, the delicate bluish tint of her closed eyelids, her dark sweeping eyelashes. His gaze lingered on her lips, slightly parted and perfectly pink, like flower petals. He trailed his eyes down her body, feeling a wave of arousal at the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her tunic. He couldn't believe she was here, lying in his bed – not the hard bunk on the Finalizer, but the sumptuous, regal bed in his personal chambers in his personal abode.

He wondered if it had been too bold to bring her directly to his bed, but he didn't care. After all they had done in dreams and across the bond…

No. He didn't think she would be angry about that.

About being taken, well, that was a different matter.

He settled back on his heels in the corner to watch and wait until she woke up.

REY

Consciousness came back with a jolt, just like last time. She was totally out, then totally alert. There were no bright lights this time, just a dim, flickering red glow. There was no metal pressing against her back. She felt plush fabric under her fingertips, a soft mattress beneath her body, a cloudlike pillow cushioning her head. There was one thing that was the same, though; the familiar figure crouching in the darkness of the corner. She didn't need to see him; she could feel him, sense him, taste him on her tongue even at a distance. She knew she should be frightened, or furious, or both; she was, really, but for now the anger and fear were drowned out by something stronger and more demanding. Something that insisted on being satisfied. Whether it was the bond or just lust, she wasn't sure, but it was pulsing through her like fire, burning like the lava she saw out the narrow window.

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Where am I? And don't say I'm your guest."

"Mustafar."

She raised an eyebrow.

He stood. "This was my grandfather's stronghold. Built at the direction of the first galactic Emperor. It sits on the remains of a Sith temple. The dark side is strong here."

She nodded. She could feel it, cold tendrils caressing her skin, despite the scorching heat of the planet.

She sucked in a breath and lifted a hand. "No restraints this time?"

He stepped closer to the bed, his Force presence swirling around, reaching out for her. "I didn't feel that would be necessary. Unless you prefer…?"

The fire in her veins settled between her thighs. The corner of her mouth curved up. "Maybe later," she said, her voice low. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared and satisfaction flowed through her.

She ran her hand over the deep carmine velvet bedding, took in the ornate carved black headboard and bedposts hung with drapings the color of blood. "And more specifically? Is this your room? Your bed?"

He swallowed hard. "Is that…alright?"

She nodded and held out her hand, beckoning.

He took her hand, his gloves already discarded, and closed his eyes, a look of near-bliss on his face at the skin to skin contact.

She mirrored his expression, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of his hand engulfing hers, so large and warm, rough in places, but so soft in others. Touching through the bond had been pure pleasure, but this was so much more intense, almost like electricity was sparking between them.

She felt the bed dip as he sat, looming over her, so close, so…intoxicating.

She looked at him and gasped, sitting up, her hand touching his cheek. "Kylo. Kylo what have you done? Your…your eyes…"

"Oh Rey," he said, his voice hoarse and choked. He looked down, his long dark lashes fluttering over his eyes, which were glowing yellow. "The Force travel. It…corrupts. Rips a hole in the Force. The dark side lingers. Surely you feel it too?"

She did. The darkness wasn't just swirling around her; it was in her too, intensifying her emotions.

"Will they stay that way?"

"No. It fades, with time."

"You…you said there was…some larger purpose. What…"

He placed a finger on her lips. "Later," he whispered. "Right now, just let me look at you. Touch you. Taste you."

She nodded. "You know you're going to have a lot of explaining to do later. And that I'm probably going to be really angry?"

He gave a small smile. "Yes."

"Then why…"

"I had to. I had to find you, have you with me. Before…before you found someone else. Before you…"

Rage, quick and fierce, flashed through her. "That's what you think of me? That I would just…just find another warm body? That I just wanted someone to fuck?" She snarled.

Confusion flickered over his face; no, of course he didn't think that about her – except he had, why had he…but the darkness was too strong for reason to break through. "You rejected me. Banished me. I had to show you that you're meant to be with me. That you're mine. Mine."

His lips were on hers in an instant, hard and hot, pressing her mouth open, his tongue plunging inside, finding her own. She reached a hand up and coiled it in his hair, pulling hard, pulling him on top of her. He moaned into her mouth and she growled and yanked his head back so she could see his eyes. Those flashing yellow eyes. "You think I want someone else? All I want is you. I feel you in my sleep, your mouth, your hands, your cock. I wake up wet and whimpering I need you so much. But…we're on different sides in a war. It was wrong. It was treason. But I still wanted it. Wanted you. Want you, even now, when you've…you've done this, taken me, embraced the darkness so fully. I should want to kill you but I just want to feel you inside me, I want your hands on my body and your tongue…that wicked tongue, I want it everywhere."

He was shaking, quivering, his eyes flashing molten gold as he hovered over her. She could tell that his control was precarious at best. She should have tried to calm him, talk him down, but that wasn't what she wanted, what the dark coils of the Force pulsing through her wanted. "You said you wanted to show me I was yours." Her eyes met his, challenging, demanding. Her lip curled up in a sneer. "So show me," she spit out.

He was panting, his teeth bared; she could feel his hot breath on her face. His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips to her chest, tracing over the thin fabric barely containing her breasts. She could almost physically feel his stare. His lips curled up in a smirk and he slid his hands up her shoulders, grasping the fabric of her shirt and ripping it to expose her bare breasts, attacking them with his hands and mouth, sucking on one nipple while he kneaded the other between his fingers. She arched her back and moaned, her own small hands tugging at his clothing – so thick, so many layers. Sensing her thoughts, he stopped, removed several layers until his chest was bare.

There was nothing now but skin and tongues and sensation, and she knew her moans were growing louder, and that the way she was rubbing against his leg was lewd and frantic. She didn't care, didn't care how desperate she sounded, or how intensely furious she was with him for abducting her, again, even though this was nothing like that, this was no interrogation room, but his private chambers in his personal residence, softly lit and darkly inviting. It had been too long and now he was here, physically here, smelling like fire and metal and space and driving her mad with desire.

He slowed, sat up on his knees, his eyes boring into hers, and slowly, very slowly, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her leggings and slid them over her legs, leaving her laying there in nothing but her thin white undergarment. He reached down and undid his trousers. Her breath was coming fast now, and her eyes slid down, down to watch as he freed his erection. She bit her bottom lip, watching, practically drooling.

The bond was pulsing with anticipation of the impending physical connection.

He ran a finger over her hipbone, slid it beneath the elastic of her underthings and yanked them down over her thighs, her knees, one ankle, leaving them dangling from one foot, no longer bothered by them since they were out of the way.

He stopped, suddenly unsure. They had done…everything…in dreams, through the bond, but that wasn't the same as this, as real physical contact. "Do…do I need to be…careful?"

She knew what he was asking, and shook her head, too far gone for words. She felt anger surge through him and she drew her brows together. "Do I?" she snarled.

He frowned. "Why would you think…"

"Why would you?"

"You're…young."

"Not that young."

She felt his anger surge into a black rage. "Who? I'll kill him."

She glared at him. "I had a life before I met you. And maybe stop letting murder be your go-to reaction. How would you feel if I threatened to kill everyone who had ever touched you?"

He was silent.

"What? You…you'd like it, wouldn't you? It would turn you on."

"There is no one for me but you. And no one but me for you. Anyone who came before…they should not exist."

She searched his face, let herself dip into his mind, sample his feelings, and was satisfied with what she found there. Not judgement, but clawing, possessive need and…shame, guilt for what he had done before. She touched his cheek. "It doesn't matter what happened before. All that matters is now. I'm yours now." She dropped her legs open for him.

"You're right. Only now matters. No one else, ever again. Or I will kill them."

She knew that should be disturbing, but instead it stroked the liquid fire inside of her.

He slid his hand between her folds, groaning. "You're so wet."

She was; she wanted him now, before she had time to be angry, before logic returned. She needed this, needed him.

He slid one long finger inside her, then another, and she threw her head back and cried out. She had never felt anything like this, not with anyone else and not even in their dream-visits…it felt so good, but it also felt like there was an itch deep inside her that only he could scratch. She was moving her hips as he finger-fucked her, gasping and moaning, their eyes locked.

He let out a strangled moan. "Rey. I need you now. I've been patient, waited, denied myself so I could have you here with me and I can't be patient any longer. Later, later we'll take our time but, Rey, please," he said, his voice a low growl as he pulled his fingers away and grasped his cock, sliding it along her folds. With his other hand he gripped her thigh, pressing it up and to the side, spreading her legs wider.

"Yes. Now, now, now," She begged, embarrassed that she was such a whimpering mess underneath him, but also not caring. That itch deep inside was getting worse.

He pulled back and then plunged into her in one swift movement, making her scream and grab the bedding and thrust up against him and then he was pounding into her and she was thrusting up to meet him, hard and fast and desperate, their hands clawing at one another, their tongues licking and teeth nipping, his fingers digging into her thighs as he pressed them apart so he could thrust deeper and deeper until he hit just the right spot. Her muscles contracted around his cock and she threw her head back, letting out a keening wail as he slammed into her even harder, grimaced and roared and spilled inside her.

They were both panting, sweaty and exhausted and floating on a wave of pleasure that drove everything else, even the icy tendrils of darkness, away.

He pulled her closer, cradled her against his chest and stroked her back, tugged the bedding over them to form a cozy little cocoon, his eyes morphing back to smoldering deep brown as her body melted against his.

"You know I'm going to escape in the morning," she said, her voice low and languid.

"I would be disappointed if you did not try," he said, hand tracing small circles on her back as she drifted to sleep, warm and snug against his chest.

Not too many notes this time. They're in Vader's Mustafar castle now and I couldn't be more excited! Next chapter we'll get to see more of it as reason returns to Rey and she explores and tries to find a way out, and Kylo finds out that he's going to have some serious explaining (and wooing) to do.

They both have some past experience in this one, but as they'll find out, it wasn't exactly hearts and flowers for either one of them. They both need so much healing.

A million thanks to Perry Downing for the super fast beta and the awesome comments – I'm so glad you liked it, and the bits you mentioned were some of my favorites too! Thank you dear!

I'm beyond excited to be back to writing – real life has been crazy recently and I've missed this, and you, my readers, so much. The next chapter is already in my head, now I just have to find the time to type it, so hopefully there'll be an update soon! Comments are love, and I cherish every one of them!