.~*~v*v~*~.
'
The sun is heavy and hot, sailing at its highest as the midday bell tolls dolorously from the tower across the square from where Kylo Ren currently stands.
The heat doesn't bother him overly much, and his hood and veil hides his face, protecting it from the burn, just his eyes left to see, narrowing in the glare.
For the moment, he stands in a small space, the crowd not yet excited enough to forget that a Knight of Ren stands in their midst.
That may likely change when the punishments begin. Perhaps if there was any way to tell which Knight he is, that he is none other than Master of the Knights of Ren, they would give him space. But apart from formal occasions, he purposely leaves off any insignia that the commoners may recognise. It makes catching criminals and sniffing out dissent so much easier.
Today, however, he is not on duty, he has just paused as many others have, to watch the violence unfold, to stir his appetite for a meal or a woman, or both.
Time will tell.
His people, his species, thrive on bloodlust.
Powered by it.
Ruled by it.
As the first ragged prisoners are dragged onto the platform, the space around him decreases, even if people shift nervously at first, they soon forget he is there as the first blood is spilt and the first wailing cries are heard.
Music to his ears, to everyone's, other than the wretch being punished.
The crowd presses closer, the tension in the air ratcheting up.
If he had been any other, the feather light touch on his belt pouch would have been missed, even him, with his extra senses only notices as it is being pulled carefully away.
Shock, comes first. That someone would be lunatic enough to attempt to rob a Knight of Ren?
Then, coiling deep inside and breaking out of his mouth as a loud, vehement hiss, fury ripples across his skin.
The perpetrator, realising they are found out, lets go and turns to run, Kylo's grasping gloved hands just missing catching hold of them.
It is a boy, dressed in drab tan and brown desert clothes, a scarf and veil covering his head, thin body wriggling through gaps in the crowd as he makes his escape.
"VAGIS!" Kylo's roar clears a way immediately as people turn from the platform decorated in centuries of blood to move swiftly aside for him.
The boy is fast, but Kylo's legs are longer, his powerful body rocketing him after the fleeing thief.
For a moment the boy turns, slowing in shock as if surprised that Kylo has bothered to pursue him, then his feet move even faster and Kylo can feel his lips pull slightly in a satisfied smile as his blood heats with the drive to take down his prey.
Bringing his predator instincts to the fore.
The thrill of the chase.
Such an apt phrase.
The only thing more thrilling is what comes after.
The blood.
As he closes in on the boy, darting down side streets and alleyways, it becomes clear that this thief doesn't know where he is going, or perhaps is too panicked to think clearly.
Either way, his fleet feet lead him up a slightly wider, yet quiet street and Kylo flashes a feral grin; he knows this road.
It is a dead end.
He is close now, close enough to hear the panicked breathing of his prey, the horrified gasp as he sees there is no way further for him to flee.
Kylo's hand closes on his shoulder, and the boy whips his body around.
Too late, Kylo sees the flash of a knife, feels the fire as the blade slices through his veil and skin, up his right cheek, just missing his eye.
Without hesitation he grasps the wrist holding the knife in a punishing grip, but inside his head, his thoughts spiral in horror.
Savage hatred and almost overwhelming disbelief burns through him.
He has just been marriage marked by a peasant boy.
Seemingly an idiot because no one in their right mind would slash the face of a stranger like this.
A bitter, acrid taste of mortification fills his mouth.
He had been going to take the boys' hand for the attempted theft. Now his honour requires nothing less than his head, and Kylo will delight in doing so. Hopefully the baptism of the boys blood will erase the shame a little.
Throwing the boy away from him, slamming his back against the stone of the nearest house, he hears the gasp and whoosh of air leaving lungs. The knife now forgotten on the cobbles of the street.
Pressing one large hand around the delicate neck, he uses his other hand to rip the veil and headscarf away, discarding them as the boy struggles even more now his face is bared to the harsh light.
His face…
A tiny flicker of hope, the merest thing, but there, enters Kylos heart.
Could it be?
The hand that had removed the coverings moves purposely down to feel the chest of his captive.
It is.
But to be sure, he ignores the terrified writhing and presses his free hand between… her legs.
The thief is not a boy.
His honour can be salvaged to some extent.
It has to be done now, though.
He releases her neck and grabs her left hand, slashing her palm with his own knife. She cries out, mostly in shock, he thinks, as he yanks her hand up to press her open wound against his.
Blood to blood.
As their fluids mix, the bond settles into their blood and he can feel the magic rippling through him, heal his wound. When he draws her hand away from his face, he sees a long pink scar where he had cut her.
So it is done then.
His bondmate is staring at him with wide eyed horror, frozen and silent.
They gaze at each other for a moment, her eyes are bright green with flecks of orange and gold. They are strange, he has never seen eyes like these before.
"What is your name?"
Her expression doesn't change.
He tries again, and gets the same reaction.
So he tugs her by the hand, expecting her to go with him.
Only to find that she disagrees.
She disagrees loudly and in a tongue unfamiliar to his ears as she yanks and pulls at his grip on her. When his hold merely tightens she tries to fight him, kicking at his knees and attempting to punch him with her free hand. Spitting what are obviously curses.
He is an immovable object, though, an unstoppable force.
Thrusting her front up against the wall, he presses and holds her in position with his body as he cuffs her hands and ties her elbows together.
She hisses and spits and writhes like the feral thing she seems to be.
It is useless.
Once she is tied securely, he rips what is left of his ruined veil from his face, pulls his hood further down and hoists her easily over his shoulder, leaving her bloody knife and the scraps of their coverings behind them in the street.
It is easy to hold down her legs and hips, and he ignores the curious stares of passersby as he stalks with purposeful steps back to the Keep Of Ren.
He can feel her trying to bite his back or thrusting her chin as hard as she can against his spine, and has to keep his lips still - being without his veil is bad enough, no one can see him smile.
Inside he is still reeling somewhat from the unexpected turn of events and there is a tickle of something that his mind is trying to latch onto, but it keeps slipping away from him whenever he attempts to grasp it.
No matter, he is sure it will come to him.
Perhaps he should have gagged her before starting home, but he finds he quite likes how fierce she sounds; despite her fear, she is obviously delivering a tongue lashing in her alien language.
'
She has grown quiet by the time he reaches the keep, silent. The guards at the gate raise their eyebrows but don't say anything - there aren't any women in the keep, those with mates live outside it.
As the shadow of the black tower covers them, he feels her body tense, a small sound as she sucks in her breath before she resumes her struggling.
Clearly, even though it appears as if she is new to the city, she knows enough to fear when she sees where he has brought her.
But her struggles are in vain.
In the cool dark of the courtyard, he pulls his hood back, before he makes his way to the common area in the east wing.
The easy talk stops when he enters carrying his prize, his face still bloody.
The Knights he calls friends gather around him while those he does not look on from afar as he places his burden back on her feet, keeping her back pressed against his chest as he imparts what has happened.
After a moment of writhing, she actually presses back against him, her head jerking, presumably as her eyes dart around the large room, no doubt looking for escape.
As his friends press closer, he can feel her start to tremble and absently starts to stroke her rich brown hair, hoping to somehow soothe her fears a little.
"And she does not speak basic, nor do I think she even understands it," he finishes.
Ingalan, his second, calls over Mitaka, a new recruit whom Kylo doesn't think will last here much longer.
The man comes, obviously nervous, but relaxes a little when he is asked to try and work out what language it is she speaks.
Although she is silent now, he can feel her head cock slightly as Mitaka begins to ask her questions in the languages he knows.
Presently, she stills, then hesitantly falters out a few sentences. Mitaka frowns, then nods and replies, she shakes her head, an obvious no.
"She understands a little of Dinkěh, from further south and east, but I do not know what her own tongue is," he reddens and licks his lips nervously, eyes darting away from Kylo's.
"And what has she said?" he asks, trying not to let his irritation make the man cringe any more.
Mitaka rubs the back of his neck, eyes never still, looking everywhere but at Kylo and the other Knights.
"Um… she was hard to understand, it seems that most of what she knows are curse words."
Kylo stops his lips from pulling up once more, "Javiell? See if you can find Threepio."
As they wait, Kylo pushes the girl to sit down in a chair, but remains standing himself. The others have a closer look at her, chuckling when they get too close and she snarls.
"Such a savage little thing," Leonmar remarks as he studies her.
Zainmar moves around her as she is distracted by his brother and gets close enough to inhale her scent.
Kylo frowns, if it were anyone else, he would have punched their teeth into their nasal cavity, but Zainmar, whilst being in his inner circle, also has a heightened sense of smell. The tickle in his mind grows closer to his grasp as he watches Zainmar tilt his head curiously.
"There is something different… a sweetness to her that I cannot place," he moves away as the girls head jerks towards him. He grins, "You will have an interesting time later, I think."
There are chuckles - that is very likely true.
Kylo can feel the bond, insistent, pulling at him, at them both, to complete the binding.
'
Javiell returns with Threepio, who is flustered and excited at the news that Kylo has found a bondmate.
Kylo irritably waves off his congratulations and the golden skinned antapuri's gaze settles on the girl, a look of disapproval flickers across his face.
"She is small and dirty, my lord!" he says this as if it is an insult to Kylo's honour.
Kylo could not care less.
"There will be time to rectify that later. What I need for you to do is find out what language it is that she speaks, so I can communicate with her."
Flustered once more, Threepio ducks his head, "Yes, yes of course, my lord," he then turns to the girl and Kylo forces her chin to look up as Threepio begins to talk.
It takes a while, and Kylo takes some water handed to him from a servant while he waits. The girl tracks the movement hungrily, but her attention is soon claimed by Threepio as he finally speaks in a language she understands.
Suddenly she unleashes a barrage of angry words and Threepio looks like he may faint. He shakes his head, attempting to cut her off but she just talks over him; apparently she has a lot to say.
"Well?" Kylo demands, and they both look at him.
Threepio swallows audibly, "She is from a little known region far to the East, named Jakku…" he swallows once more, eyes sliding for a moment to the mug of water in Kylo's hand, before he licks his lips and continues, "She is being… very rude, and she, she…"
"She what?" Kylo asks impatiently as the others gather closer with interest.
Threepio's face is appalled, "She insists you be arrested for cutting her hand and kidnapping her."
There is a moment of stunned silence, then Zainmar throws back his head and laughs. The girl hisses out a string of invective in response and Threepio blanches.
"Could it be she doesn't know what a bond is?" Ingalan suggests, as Zainmar's laugh quietens into chuckles.
It is an interesting thought, and if true, will make the next part a lot more difficult. But Kylo has never run from a challenge.
"Explain it to her, Threepio."
The girl stills as Threepio speaks to her, and Kylo can see her golden skin prickle with goosebumps, before she completely freezes, eyes wide and slightly unfocused in a face gone pale.
Then her head starts to shake, panicked words tumble from her bloodless lips. Finding no pity from Threepio she turns to look at Kylo in desperation, eyes full of moisture, though it hasn't quite spilled over yet.
"What's her name?" he asks Threepio and she pauses, the barest touch of hope on her features as she turns back to Threepio for a translation.
There is some back and forth, clearly she is arguing with him, then her shoulders sag a little and she utters a single syllable, "Rey."
Warmth blooms inside his chest, as he repeats it to himself in his head. If it has a meaning in her tongue, she doesn't share it, but in basic its meaning is related to the sun. It fits, he thinks, as he looks at her golden skin and bright eyes.
She speaks again, and Threepio lets out an aggrieved breath before translating, "She promises to leave the city, and the country straight away, if you let her go free. She promises not to come back… I do not think she understands the bond."
Her desperate eyes find Kylo's, beseeching, and she stumbles off her chair and down onto her knees, clearly begging to be let go.
The sight of her on the floor does something to his blood. He shakes his head at her, and her entreaties fall silent, her expression flickers into something else, something blank.
Something he cannot read.
He is just reaching out to her, to help her rise, when she hurls herself to her feet, somehow her arms are free, he has no idea how she has done it, but that hardly matters now, for she is trying to escape him.
Tackling his reluctant mate, they both crash to the floor, a sharp cry coming from her as her head hits the stone flags.
And that's when it finally hits him, that tickle that's been dancing on the edges of his mind. It's the scent of her blood, the heady, sweet scent of human blood.
Suddenly she is the only one moving or making noise in the room as she struggles against him, forehead bleeding freely as she snarls, her little human teeth completely unthreatening.
Perhaps it was the magic of their new bond that had distracted everyone, but they can all scent it now.
They all want it.
A true snarl rips its way out of Kylo's chest as he gathers her small frame against his body, backing up till he is against a wall so no one can come at him from behind.
The brutal sounds he is making, causes his prey to go still and limp in his arms and he focuses on the others in the room, some of whom are drawing closer, hunger in their eyes.
He will kill them all if he has to.
Javiell and Ingalan come to his aid, not too close though. Zainmar is gripping onto the nearest table, knuckles white and eyes unfocused as he tries to hold his breath. Leonmar doesn't look much better.
"We need to get you to your room," Ingalan grits out urgently.
Kylo can only agree.
He gathers her, Rey, to his chest, where she curls up as small as she can, shivering with fear. He backs away towards the door, Ingalan ahead and Javiell behind. They make it out just in time, Javiell shoving the door shut and holding onto the handle as he shouts for them to go.
Ingalan clears their path, snarling at anyone in their way, almost as agitated as Kylo.
Somehow they make it to his room and Kylo pushes Rey away from him and turns to shut the door in Ingalan's face, dropping the heavy bar in front of it immediately.
For a moment he breathes deeply before raising his voice, "Thank you, my friend."
There is a grunt from the otherside, "Of course," Ingalan replies, before the sound of Javiell arrives, along with others.
There are snarls and snaps, the sound of a scuffle.
Kylo flicks his hand and activates the wards placed on his room, effectively cutting off scent and sound, giving he and his mate privacy but also hopefully giving respite to his fellow Knights senses too.
A human.
She is huddled on the floor, rocking slightly, eyes pressed against her knees.
Humans are rare, are priceless. They are kept by the wealthy, he knows of perhaps fifty in the city and has only ever encountered six in person.
He didn't even know they, or any other species, were compatible for a bond, but clearly they are. Or perhaps the ones from Jakku are… but that is something to ponder another time.
For now, they must complete the bonding, if they do not, it will leave them both vulnerable and he hopes it will also mean she will no longer drive his fellow Knights wild.
He finally allows himself to properly breathe her in, even from several paces away, his mouth prickles with saliva and his teeth ache with want.
And then of course there is the bond, its magic urging him to complete it, and his hot blood rushes south.
A groan escapes him and he starts to pull off his clothing as he walks towards her, catching her up before she can react and tossing her onto his bed.
He is down to just his trousers by the time he reaches the bed. She has scuttled away till her back is against the wall.
To his amusement, she is clutching a small knife, one he keeps by his bed, and she brandishes it as if it were a sword.
Yes, she is fierce.
The humans he has seen before were all docile, blank eyes creatures. He feels a flush of pride to have found one so out of the ordinary.
Although, she found him, really.
What a fortunate twist of fate.
She gasps as he removes his trousers, her eyes shutting, her cheeks changing colour in a curious way.
But as he puts his knee on the bed to crawl to her, her eyes flash open, determination on her face and she lunges with the knife.
His admiration increases as she tries to stab him, as her little blunt teeth sink into the arm that restrains her.
She does not give in, even as he disarms her and throws the knife behind him, where it skitters along the floor and out of reach.
All the writhing and wriggling is wasted energy though, and he just starts ripping off her thin clothing. But he stills once her tunic is all but gone and she turns from him.
His grip tightens unintentionally as he feels rage so strong his vision clouds red in his eyes. Her beautiful tanned skin is marred, scarred with whip marks.
He comes back to himself when she makes a pained noise and he realises he has been gripping her shoulder too tightly as he stares.
"You will tell me," his voice is hoarse, "You will tell me who made these wounds and I will rip them to shreds, slowly, piece by piece, as you watch."
He knows she does not understand him now, but he will make sure that she does soon. He wonders, for the first time, what sort of life she has had up until now.
The thought makes his hands more gentle with her, as he turns her over and removes the rest of her clothing.
Her body is small, delicate, narrow hipped and small breasted, he isn't sure if her size is down to malnutrition, because her ribs jut out, or if humans run smaller anyway.
They gaze at each other for a moment, before her hands come up to cover her chest and a slim leg tries to hide her sex from him.
It does no good.
Along with the fresh blood on her head, and the dried blood on her palm, he can now scent the slick between her thighs.
It is the Bond Magic, insistent that the final rite is fulfilled, that they consummate it and cement the binding.
He shakes his head at her attempts to cover herself and lies beside her, pulling her to him so he can gently lick the blood on her forehead as one of his hands glides down her body and slips between her legs.
Finally, the fight in her dissolves, washed away by the pheromones in his scent and the magic that thrums in the air and under their skin.
Her back arches as he strokes her with his fingers and his tongue, her breath catching in her throat as her head tips back and her eyes flutter closed.
Surrendering.
He cannot wait any longer, the need is painful and he is not able to pause to learn her body the way he would like.
That would come later.
An alarmed whine comes from her as he sits up, as if she is afraid he is leaving her. But he merely settles his body between her legs, nudging her thighs further apart to accommodate him.
This is when he really realises their size disparity, when his aching cock rests against her sex. He doesn't want to hurt her, but he doesn't have a choice, the imperative, the compulsion is now too strong.
She mewls as he begins to push, her hips flexing slightly, as if to aid him. The slide is impossibly tight despite the slick and her muscles flutter around him as he bites his lip.
He has to withdraw before pushing in again, he does this several times, hissing in an equal measure of ecstasy and torment, before he cannot hold on to his control anymore and his desperate body takes over.
She cries out as he fully sheaths himself inside her, her body spasming as pleasure takes her. He begins to fuck her in earnest, her entire body jolts with each thrust, her small breasts bouncing slightly, her fingers gripping the sheets as she writhes. This time though, the movement is not her fighting to get away from him.
He can feel another climax taking shape, her body eager to draw him with her, and he doesn't try to hold on, he wants this as much as she does,
Craves it.
As they finish together, he sinks his teeth into her neck, unable to stop himself, the mix of sensations make his vision dance with spots, his muscles tremble as he spills inside her.
The surge of magic can probably be felt on the other side of the city, its blast is so strong. The bond completes, knitting their essences together, linking their souls and minds, irrevocably.
'
When he comes back to himself, he slides as gently from her body as he can. Despite this, there is blood coating his sex and hers, along with the other fluids.
He licks his lips as he stares, wondering if she had been a virgin or it was from their size difference. With time, her body should adjust to his, gods willing that would be sooner rather than later.
His bondmate appears to have passed out. Gathering her to him, he moves so he can cover them in his sheets, curling his body around hers, protectively.
Possessively.
Absently he runs a finger along her sticky thigh and brings it to his lips, the blood is the sweetest he has tasted, his whole body hums.
He was her first.
And will be her only.
'
.~*~v*v~*~.
'
A/N: There could be more, if anyone wants it...? Also, really interested to know whether you'd class this as noncon or dubcon?