There is no resistance until they reach the bedroom, actually she clings to him as if he was twisted salvation. But when she takes the bedroom, the bed, in, it becomes quite real and it is all too much. She suddenly finds it hard to breathe, and she extracts herself from his grasp. She almost trips into her own gown. If he is losing patience, he doesn't show it. She doesn't leave the room but remains distant, taking a step back for every attempt from him at coming closer.
"I can't breathe", she panics. A bit dramatic, but still he is not laughing yet.
"Sit down". He nods to the bed but doesn't say the word. "I'm not getting any closer", he reassures when she seems to lose it at the mere mention.
She racks her brain for memories of him outright lying as opposed to tricking her. But again her legs feel like jelly and she gracelessly lets herself fall more than she sits, not arranging her gown about hers.
"Breathe, slow". He could be instructing a young cadet before her first battle. There is something to this image that rings true. Heir-bearing is a woman's battlefield.
"This is happening anyway, so you better just… go through with it. I never delay what must be done, and I doubt a few days would make much of a difference to you". The end of the sentence is almost a question, one she cannot answer because she thinks indeed she agrees.
"So", he shrugs, as if it was all, no big deal. "You are a lucky one, because I have been warned that the first time hurts, and I know it does". Jyn bites the inside of her cheek, unsure that the fact her own father taught this to her husband in such a personal way makes her in any way lucky. She feels quite confused over her desire to know more, coupled with a fear of the very same.
She's not going to ask him if he bled, not that it would tell anything about her own personal experience. In fact the whole comparison is off, probably, but this is the closest he can relate, making it about himself. This is Krennic…..
He approaches now, slowly, but surely. He sits down, close enough but too distant for contact. He doesn't say anything, just looks at her and slides toward her. They are breathing fast, him for obvious reasons, her for much more conflicting ones. Jyn doesn't react when he finally brings a hand to take her own but she feels caged when he goes for the second one and she attempts to push him away.
The director won't have any of that. He has waited, he has endured humiliation from Tarkin himself, not to mention Galen's antics. Now, he has her. He grabs her wrists as if to show her all that, not too aggressively but definitely - she is his.
"I can't, I told you, I can't", she hiccups. He keeps holding her slim wrists, either so she won't hurt herself or so she won't try to get up.
When she seems a tiny bit calmer, he lets go. One of his hands finds its way under the gown, slowly grazing against her leg.
"Look at me only", he says, when her eyes search for a sign of what is going on. It feels good, much better than it should, almost appeasing. She almost panics again when he reaches her thighs. "Lucky you. They say the Grand Moff was out of the nuptial chambers by ten minutes, so…". So of course, she needs to appreciate that he bothers.
Her skin burns like an inferno where he finally rubs her through her underwear. She whimpers, her legs betraying her as they part only for an instant before she takes control again.
"Shhhh, all good", he whispers. It is ridiculous because it is all wrong, she thinks, but still it helps.
She pleads "No" when his fingers slip under the material but it sounds like a yes. He grazes along her slit, smirking at how wet she is. She averts her eyes, horrified as he finds out.
"I said look at me, or this is stopping". Definitely a bet, because she just said no, but her eyes dart back to his, dark in more than color. She keeps hiccuping occasionally, though it may be more of a gasp.
He massages her clit then, only pressing on it when she starts trembling. She is so wet her thighs are sticky, he realizes. How she will feel around him... He squirms to relieve an erection. Krennic touches her lower then, gently circling until he finds where he will take her. He makes no attempt to penetrate, just caresses and rubs there until her legs part again and she pants. He wonders if he can make her peak without touching her clit, and if yes, what it will mean for their coupling. She will probably be coming hard, he thinks, and he almost scolds her for looking away yet another time. But then he figures it: she is actually staring at his cock, erection visible through the white layers. Let her stare, he thinks, but when her hand timidly goes for it, he only gives her a few seconds before he pushes it away.
She tenses as if she did something wrong, and he feels the need to explain, embarrassment readable on his face. The way he blushes is one of the few things he cannot keep control and track of.
"Don't, or I'll…". She gives a giggle that turns into a whine, understanding. She didn't do anything wrong, it is the opposite problem. She loves the idea that she has so much power that a small touch could cause this. Jyn wonders, not for the first time, how many partners exactly he had since her father… And figures, actually, maybe not that many and not that often.
He keeps touching her, seeking the best angle for her reaction. He wants to fuck her just now. But he also wants her to do more than bearing it with teary eyes. He wants to come home and fuck her first thing. He wants her to be willing and enthusiastic, to immediately respond when he touches her, to actually seek him out and give him release after a long day, or under his desk.
The idea makes him moan and her eyes dart to his lips, not quite begging for a kiss yet. She is out of breath, and he prays he is the first to do that to her. He alternates the techniques, circling and rubbing, and gently pinching at her clit, then pressing against her entrance. She doesn't resist much, not even when his finger gets in - not by much - and he finally feels how burning she is inside.
He can't help starting to talk again, telling her what exactly he is going to do with her that night, and all the following ones. Those Imperials love to hear themselves talk. If it turns her off, it doesn't show in the way her body reacts.
The mere idea that he'll put his dick there soon keeps him going… Because he's not stopping now. And he actually removes his hand when she starts moaning shamelessly, worldlessly begging for release. She whimpers in protest, but he tells her, voice low and breathy: "You're going to come on my cock now".
"I don't think I can", she whispers. That's actual progress from before, and he rewards it with a searing kiss that is immediately welcomed. He uses that moment to push her back onto the bed, climbing on top of her and lifting up her skirt. He cannot believe they are there, finally. She doesn't even tremble when he caresses her legs, but tenses when he attempts to pull down her underwear. Not a problem. He pulls it aside instead and she either can't or doesn't want to resist. Maybe she doesn't understand, not fully, until he meddles with his own buttons out of her sight, though it is easy to tell what is going on. She must be in denial. The family is big on that. Thinking back to Galen enrages him -he hides it carefully - but also makes him harder than before. He doesn't know who he is thinking of as he guides himself against her, rubbing the cock head against her folds. She moans. She doesn't exactly open her legs, but she allows him to part them and slip between them. For a few moments he is still, pleasuring her with his cock, then he dips lower and finds it. He pushes against her hole, more knowledgeable in theory than in practice, but she's so warm and slippery he has no trouble.
"You're so wet", he teases. Didn't she say something like this to him?
They both gasp as he reaches a dead end, as if they reacted to the situation at last. Until now, there had been no real consequence. His wife - a strange idea, he never planned to saddle himself with a woman, and yet - will never be the same again.
"Jyn...". He looks down to her, his pale blue eyes taking in the white lacy veil, the white face too. Orson isn't exactly searching for permission or approval but he wants to gauge the situation. She isn't averting her eyes or closing them, on contrary she is fixated on his face, fear and puzzlement and surprise and yes, wonder; she doesn't tell him to proceed but suddenly he is aware that she is clinging to him. She wasn't when he let go her wrists. Jyn is oddly taking comfort in the very man inflicting this on her.
There is nothing else to do, barring to stop, and this isn't an option, so he goes for the kill. He doesn't enjoy the look of pain and naked terror on her face half as much as he expected to. This is Galen's daughter with that kriffin' Lyra, he tells himself as motivation. It only helps slightly. Jyn yelps, but she clings closer. Surely an instinct.
She sobs a few times, and he can't deny it looks real, not like some act she would be putting on to turn him off or rile him up.
"It's alright", he tells her softly as he wipes a tear away. But when another comes, he decides it's a good look on her. It's all a good look on her, Jyn Kriffin Erso on her back for him, in a wedding gown, letting him fuck her and feeling so wet - there must be some blood by now, he ponders suddenly as if he wasn't fully trusting her not to be disgraced.
The idea jolts him into movement and he presses his hips closer, taking her all the way in. Jyn breathes hard.
"So fucking tight", he comments as if he had no idea how exactly she would be.
He remembers he wanted to have her coming on his cock, so he tries to slow himself, trying various angles until she stops looking so tense. It takes time before she seems to really give in, her breathing less erratic until it grows so, again, in another way.
"Oh my God", she whispers, and then she keeps repeating it, her voice breaking as she balls her fists into the white material of his uniform. She isn't certain when the pain turned into this. There is fire and ice in his eyes, his honeyed hair, an image of purity in white… He doesn't look like a man who would be currently doing this, certainly not because he couldn't fuck her father.
"That's good, let go, beautiful". His fingers trace her cheek, her chin, her lips that part for him as they did on that fated day. He doesn't really know how to encourage her, but it should be sooner than later or he'll just finish before her and he can't have that. "So beautiful Jyn, so tight, I need y...". He wasn't meaning to say that, and she obviously is troubled. Her hand leaves his uniform and tangles in his hair to bring his mouth against hers. She swallows his moans and the idea that he doesn't seem to be able to hold on much longer sends her flying.
When Krennic decided to marry her, he didn't envision her coming around him, basically grabbing his head to kiss him as she did. It was more about enjoying his lover's - he still refers to him as such, sometimes - collapse. He would either not touch Jyn, or fuck her quick and cold just so he could say she was really his. As she is coming back to herself, she runs her hands along his back, encouraging now. Jyn is certain he doesn't need it but for some reason she wants to. So she speaks to him, as he did to her. She feels a bit silly doing so, but she tells herself he'll like it, whatever she says. Jyn answers his moans with hers, hoping a yes here and there will do. She tucks his hair behind his ear without thinking, the gesture too intimate for comfort in any other situation. How did it get there, from her promising to kill him or herself if he touched her?
He is so close, moving against her, rhythm forgotten. She can't help wondering if he looked like this with her father, shoving the thought back as much as she could immediately. She couldn't exactly study him as she was going down on him so this time she's enjoying watching his face. He doesn't tell her he's on the very edge but she senses it.
"Just like this, don't stop", she moans, vaguely wondering if she could come again. Probably not enough time. She detests that she feels regret. Detests that she wants him again. "Come on, you won't have that long when I suck you off in your office", she simpers, seductive. Kriff, where does that come from? She never planned to really go along with whatever fantasy he may entertain. "I hate you so much…", she whispers, burning as if she was offering forbidden pleasures to the man. Another word might well have been just as real, if not more. Want. Love. Or, I hate myself. The Director doesn't exactly hate hearing that. He calls her name, and he comes hard, light headed and shivering, pleasure pulsating.
"Yes", she says, still caressing wherever she can reach. It seems to last forever, Orson filling her again and again, unsure it has ever been that long, that strong. It peters down when he starts wondering how normal it is. He doesn't collapse on her so as not to crush her, his last strength leaving him. He considers resting his head somewhere until she takes hold of him and leads him against her bosom. Too intimate, again. That's one reason to get up and leave. A second one, would be the blood, probably everywhere on the gown, the bed and kriff, he wasn't careful about his uniform, though it would be hardly the first time. He stares at her as if he couldn't believe it all.
"I'm there", she all but coos. She's there all right, not going anywhere. Krennic isn't sure where the odd vulnerability comes from. He repeats to himself that he took her, made her bleed and keen on his cock, yet her innocent eyes see right through his lies, unravel him to the core.
It has to happen again, he decides, he can't deny the appeal of the whole thing, especially now that he's on eye level with her cleavage. "So good", she whispers, saying what he thought outloud, her hand both keeping him and caressing him, playing with the sandy hair. He smells warm, good, the same cologne as when she found herself in his arms first. Both try to reconcile what has happened with their truth. Jyn doesn't ask if he needed to think of her father to finish, though she doubts it. Orson doesn't ask if she really means to suck him at the bureau, hoping she does. She has grown slightly more cynical and she just knows that come morning, he'll still be the Director and she'll still be Galen's daughter and he might still holocall her parents so he can gloat seeing them red eyed from a long night of imagining the worst. There is no way he would let them know she came first, or at all, and that he told her he needed her. The gap between what should be done and what she wants to do becomes a chasm where her self worth and dignity could drown. He looks up and she looks down at the same time, the eye contact searing.
"Sleep now, gorgeous", she coaxes, almost motherly. If he fell asleep, she could get up, retrieve the blaster, end this - whatever it is - and save the world. If he falls asleep, it would mean he felt safe enough to do so in her arms… She imagines his pretty face, almost too delicate, his soft lips, his expression decades younger. She could do anything for it, possibly as her father had, even though she knows exactly what lies beneath. Betraying his trust was never a concept though now she wonders if she could, even for her parents. The booze and adrenaline have been too much even for the Director. Orson Krennic is half asleep in her embrace and there is no way she is spoiling this. She thinks of what transpired between them and she smiles. Kriff it all.