A/N: Some of you noticed I'm playing a bit fast and loose with the Sacred Books. A: Good catch, and B: There is a plan. :)
If there is anything that Rey appreciates about no longer being on Jakku, it's water.
On Jakku, water is used for one thing and one thing only, survival. Drink it, use it to cook, and that's it. You don't put it in pretty containers and look at it. You certainly don't have pets that live in it.
And you absolutely don't waste it by pouring it into a huge tub and then laying around in it.
Now… She's on Careena. It's not Ahch-Too, land of too much water, but it's wet. There are trees and lakes and greenery all over the place.
And baths.
Even as a 'guest', her cottage has a bath. And she's allowed to fill it as full of water as she likes, and just rest in it.
Which she's done every day since she's gotten here. She's continuing her search for anything about the Jedi she can find. No "sacred" texts, not here. She doesn't know if Luke found all of them, or if there just never were all that many, but she's having very little luck with them.
History though… She can find that. Whatever else is true about Orlac, he likes books, and he's got a lot of them.
Every day, she goes to the library, and pulls out more books, reading them, absorbing them, learning about the Old Republic, the New Republic, the fall of the senate, and the rise of Palpatine. She thinks about them as she floats in her pool of water before bed.
The librarian has made more than a few jokes about how she's got to be a droid to read that many languages.
She's just shrugged at it. Many languages moved through Niima Outpost, along with scrubby traders, smugglers, and thieves. Of course she'd pick them up.
Today she's been reading about the rise of Palpatine. Whoever wrote the book admired him. That's clear from the near fawning text. But… she's grudgingly got to admit, that if even half of the maneuvering going on in this book is true, Palpatine knew how to rule. He had vision and a plan for how to get there and…
And she wonders if Snoke had any grand plan, or if Kylo has any idea what he's gotten himself into.
There is another book on Palpatine, one that's less complimentary to him, and she hopes that will give her a better idea of what he did, and how, and, better yet, why she feels like she needs to know this.
She's thinking of that one, and hoping it will be interesting, when she hears, "That's not how reading works."
She thrashes in the water, trying to cover herself, but there's nothing in easy reach.
"My back's turned, and has been the whole time."
"How?" a little calmer now, because when she looks behind her, she's looking at his black cloak and hair, not his face, and with a moment to breathe, she can find a towel.
"I could feel you enjoying the water before I was… here… I knew not to open my eyes until you were behind me."
"Thank you."
"You don't have to get out. I'm not looking."
She freezes, not sure if she should get out and dress, or stay in the water, enjoying it.
"When I was young, I used to swim." Rey can feel him submersed in cool water, and the sensation of abject pleasure that went with it.
"I don't think I ever saw this much water in one place my entire life, until I got off Jakku," she says, settling back into the water, keeping him behind her back, too.
"Desert planet. It was supposed to have water once, but… Something happened, and then it didn't."
That could certainly be true, but if it is, it's not anything she ever knew. "Why don't you swim now?"
"No pool."
"The Supreme Leader of the First Order can't have a pool if he wants one?"
He shrugs. "When would I have time?"
"You have time to talk to me."
"Or so the Force seems to think."
She's not sure why he's here right now. Summoned by her thoughts of grand plans for ruling? Maybe he sought her out, the way she went looking for him when she was bored on the Falcon.
He surprises her with a question. "When you look at a book, do you just… see pictures or… how does it work?"
"I open it up, look at the page, and know what is says."
"Any book?"
"Any I've opened so far."
He shakes his head. "I can't see the books."
"It wouldn't matter if you could. I don't bring them into the bath with me. I wouldn't want to get them wet."
"Are they all the same language?"
She turns in the bath, carefully keeping most of her body covered by the side of the tub. She rests her arms on the back ledge, and her chin on her arms, and looks at his back, not understanding the question.
He doesn't have to turn around to feel her not getting it.
"The symbols on the page. Are they all the same?"
"Of course not. What would be the point of the same symbol over and over?"
He sighs. "You never went to school."
It's not a question, but she answers it anyway. "No."
He nods. "You don't actually know how to read, do you? You just look, and you know."
That's the first time Rey's even heard it suggested that this isn't how it works for everyone. "What's the difference?"
He doesn't really know, other than it feels like there has to be one. "Practically, I'm not sure. You pick up a book, look at it, and know what's inside of it. That's basically how reading works, but for most of us, we have to learn what each symbol means, how they combine, or not, to form words, and then how those words combine to make sentences. And every language has different symbols, and to read them, we have to learn for each new one. For most of us, reading takes actual work."
"Oh."
He closes his eyes, and mutters, "All is as the Force wills it."
And Rey's alone in her bath.
Through passion I gain strength.
It was a long bathtub, and for once the Force let him see her surroundings. Well, the bathtub and water, at least. She was lying back, eyes closed, head on a pillow, hair spread around her. It's starting to get longer, slipping from shoulders to shoulder blades.
He was behind her, far enough he couldn't look straight down into the bath, but he could see her shoulders and arms, propped against the back and side of the bath. One leg, her left one, she had that propped on the edge of the bath, too.
The water was murky blue and smelled like… He doesn't know. Sweet, floral… Some perfume. He'll never forget it, but he doesn't know its name.
He didn't seek her out. Hadn't been thinking of her. He'd been in the middle of reading where the Republic had troops stationed, and then he was in her bathroom, looking at her, feeling her thinking about books.
And with that, any and all thoughts about troop deployments vanished.
He's seen a naked woman before. Several of them. But none like her. She's strong. The kind of strength that comes with long hours of hard, physical work. Even with the Force, it took real muscle to fend of his attack in the forest. And when they've fought, on the same side, and the opposite, he's been very aware of how solid she is.
The ladies he's seen have tended toward small, willowy. Curvy of hip and waist, slender of arm and leg. Swanlike. If Rey is a kind of bird, she's a predator. Something small and fast and deadly.
He stood behind her, and he looked. She lay there, stretched out before him, eyes closed, thinking, enjoying the water. He felt his passion rise, and his body followed, eager, wanting to strip out of his too hot, too tight, black clothing, and hop into the bath with her. He banished those thoughts, sure if he gave into them, she'd sense them. He turned around, and then announced himself.
But she's not here anymore, or he isn't there. He's alone, in his room, sitting on his bed, surrounded by reports.
Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory.
And what would victory be here?
Her beneath him?
The image of it is so clear it makes him shudder, pulling in a quivering breath. Her hands in his, her lips on his, her legs around his hips, both of them rocking, slow and easy, until the sparks kindled, setting them on fire, making them moan and rush.
He can see it, feel it, her eyes on his, their faces inches apart, and this time there would be no fear, only pleasure, and curiosity. She'd want him, want to feel what came next. She'd open herself to him, and he'd slide forward, both of them gasping.
Her eyes wouldn't close, and neither would his.
Her fingers would clench between his, her legs tightening on his hips.
"Kylo." He can hear it so clearly. She would call him by his name.
There would be no Ben. No light and no dark. Just them, their bodies, and the pleasure they could give each other.
It doesn't take him long. He doesn't seek out this kind of release often, and when he does, he usually finds a woman. The Supreme Leader doesn't want for company, if he wishes it. But he doesn't want company, not the sort that's on offer to him.
He wants a face with dark eyes, a body with strong shoulders, and a voice that calls him by the name he chose for himself.
He wants to be embraced by someone who doesn't fear him. Someone who doesn't hate him. Someone who wants to touch him, not The Supreme Leader.
In his head, with his eyes closed, he can see and feel her. He can smell the perfume of the water, feel the sheets of his bed under him.
A few strokes, and his body goes tight, tingling. He feels the pulse surge through his fingers, toes, thighs, and shaft, again, and again.
He wipes up, tired, and wonders if she felt it. He was focusing so intently on her…
He wonders if she'd be insulted or pleased.
And before he falls asleep, he wonders if he'd feel it if she were to touch herself, imaging him.