Thanks for reading. Please read this chapter cautiously. It is rather explicit and not necessarily comfortable to read. Mentions of painful sex and may be considered dubious consent (although it is difficult to say given that she is doing paid prostitution work). I promise, it isn't all like this, but it is just where our characters are starting this journey.
Chapter Text
The Night Shift
The rain was unending. Lashes of it beating against the large-tinted window of the bedroom suite. Rey rested her head against the glass, letting her breath fog the surface, enough for her to doodle idle words on it: Idiot. Whore. Nobody. Nothing.
She had changed into the underwear Phasma had given her, a racy red and black number, made of Chantilly lace and silk satin. It was expensive stuff, making her appear much sexier than she really was. The padding pushed her breasts together, revealing an impressive cleavage that even she envied.
Rey looked down at her backpack, a ragged lump on the floor, worn with use over the years. How she wished she could change back into her cotton briefs and sports bra. A pair of tracksuit pants and sweater wouldn't go astray either. She pulled the aubergine chiffon robe around her tightly, holding it in place by crossing her arms to hold it in place.
Outside the rain was luminous and hypnotic as it ricocheted off the street lamps and in the headlights of cars. The surrounding walls rumbled fleetingly, a distant storm circling the edge of the city ominously.
The fireplace was alight, looking more ornamental than practical. Above it was a painting of an endless desert, the straight line horizon broken by windswept dunes. She stared at it lost in thought, feeling a kind of synchronicity with it. The scene felt empty and abandoned, the orange and gold-hued sand stretching out into the lonely expanse, to nowhere and no-one.
It was a stupid print, and didn't fit the decor of the room, with its king-size bed and black satin sheets, layered in decorative pillows. Then there was that bloody mirror. She scowled at it above the bed. Would she really have to watch herself making the biggest mistake of her life?
She shivered, rubbing her arms to generate warmth. A single flash of sheet lightning illuminated the street below and her heart stopped. In the fleeting light, she had seen a man in black running through the rain; he was tall and dark-haired, and as he disappeared below her vision she heard the door and open and close downstairs.
It was him. Kylo Ren. The colour drained from her face at the thought of what was to come.
One month. She reminded herself. Just one month and you can try another way to pay the money. One month and you will be free.
There was a hint of muffled voices below, drowned out by the escalating moans of ecstasy coming from down the hall.
And then, Footsteps.
She tried to slow her breath, closing her eyes and imagining the ocean, hoping the thunderous beating in her chest would steady and she could stop shaking.
Creak. Step. Creak. Step. Creak. Step.
There was the sound of a hand gripping upon the door handle, and the hairs on her arms rose like a chill had crept down her back.
It was turning.
Her pulse points thumped so heavily inside her she could feel them hammering away inside her body.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. I can't do this.
She turned, wanting to run. She would have run but a monster of a man filled the doorway.
He was huge, his form blocking out the bright light of the corridor behind him. Rey gaped, her brows pinched together in confusion. He was not… he was not what she expected.
He reminded her of the night. Dark ruffled hair falling wildly around his narrow face, with droplets of rain still clinging to each strand. Dark brooding eyes, piercing and intense. And at last his dark clothes, black pants, and a shirt that clung tight to a firm body.
The only contrast was his skin, pale moon-white, glistening from the rain. He was not beautiful. But there was something sensitive in his face. Or at least she thought so. Until she saw how he looked at her.
His eyes grazed over the entirety of her body hungrily, glancing only momentarily at her face before roving along each edge and curve. The darkness in those eyes deepened as they roved across her. Finally, he looked in the direction of her face, again, but never in her eyes, almost as though he looked past her, through to the black door behind. She knew at once she was nothing to him, just a body ripe for fucking.
"I haven't had you before." His voice was low, measured, controlled. "What's your name?"
Rey hugged her arms closer to her body.
"Desert Flower."
He laughed, the sound sardonic and cruel.
"I didn't ask for your fucking stage name. Give me your real name."
Rey swallowed, hesitating whether to tell him the truth. He stepped forward, and she backed away.
"It's Rey," she said quickly. The curtness in her tone seemed to catch him off guard because for a fleeting moment his eyes flashed to hers, cocking his head to the side curiously.
"Come here, Rey." He beckoned her with a hand as he spoke.
Her back straightened, and she breathed in sharply. She had let no one tell her what to do, and she sure as hell didn't want to start now.
He stalked forward with one more stride and she forced herself not to back away. She was here to get paid. Fuck him and take home a fat wad of cash to get out of this life.
Mouth shut, legs open.
She moved towards him, eyes fixed on his shoes. He had trailed in mud with them. She wondered if his mother had ever taught him to wipe his feet at the door. When she was less than a metre away, she stopped before him, waiting.
Kylo Ren circled around her, his gaze meticulously studying her like he was critiquing a work of art. She shivered as he paused behind her. He was close to her now, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body. His hot moist breath pressed against her neck with every inhalation, sending shivers down her spine.
A single finger ran down her back, tracing the shape of her, and then two large hands were on her hips, running up and down her sides.
What the hell was she supposed to do? She knew what she was supposed to do with him, but how was she supposed to —
He pressed into the back of her and she could already feel his arousal.
"Take off your underwear." The whisper came close to her ear, making her jump.
So this was it then?
She untied the sash around her robe and pushed it back from her shoulders, He removed it, warm fingers trailing over her body as he pulled it to the floor.
Next, he unclasped her bra. The straps dropped by her sides and she pulled it off the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor in a heap.
At the sight of her naked breasts his breath hitched in his throat, large hands running up her body until he reached her breasts, squeezing them gently.
"Who does Phasma think she's kidding?"
"She told me to wear the padding," Rey said. "Sorry, I know they're not—"
"Forget it," his voice was abrupt as he pulled her back closer to him. He massaged them firmly before running his fingers down her waist and to her panties. He slipped two fingers beneath the elastic, running them along the edge before tugging them down over her arse. She pulled them down the rest of the way, embarrassed, and exposed.
His face leaned into her again, wet hair brushing against the side of her cheeks as he told her to "get on the bed.
Rey pursed her lips at the order. She did not belong to him—
"Get on the fucking bed!"
Rey gritted her teeth and held tight to her dreams, her first debt paid, college, freedom.
Just one night, she bargained with herself. Just one night. Then don't come back.
She lay down on the bed. Back flat against the raven sheets. Her eyes stared at the sight of her naked flesh in the mirror above. A slim and muscular body, more practical than sexy, utterly exposed.
He unbuttoned his shirt and then she heard the short zip and drop of his trousers falling to the floor, the buckle hitting the ground with a thud.
Lastly, the rustling of a wrapper. Rey's stomach tightened at the sound.
She saw his naked body in the reflection of the mirror, prowling over her like a jaguar on the hunt. Noticing the rise and fall of his shoulder blades and the muscles tightening in his arms. They planted themselves and either side of her and she felt his knee push between her legs.
She squeezed her legs together instinctually and froze.
He waited for her to part them.
When she didn't part them, he pressed his knee down, shoving them apart.
"Stop fighting me," he said low in her ear, his hair tickling the side of her face again as he spoke. "I'm paying you, remember? Now are we going to do this or not?"
"Just do it," she replied and spread her legs further apart for him.
The warm tip of him pressed against her and her stomach muscles tightened at the sudden anticipation of what was to happen.
Without another word, he pushed into her.
She cringed, wishing she'd remembered her lubricant. She put her hands on his shoulders, grasping them as she bucked her hips to take his full length.
He breathed with a sigh once he was fully inside her. Seeming to savour the tightness of her grip. Rey inhaled slowly, trying to allow her body adjust to him. It wasn't working.
And then he began to move.
In, out, in, out.
His dark eyes were coal, staring past her face with ferocious intensity.
In, out, in out.
It burned her. Every thrust. He was too large, and she was too dry.
She moaned, a sorry attempt to play the part in faking her pleasure. That's what they were all doing, surely? All those women in the rooms beyond her.
"Oh, it's…" she tried to say something flattering but came up blank
In, out, in, out, harder, faster, in, out.
His body thrust against her, slapping loudly. His eyes, locked on that dark and lifeless place far beyond where she was.
Fuck! The friction was building. He was close to coming now, each thrust releasing an animalistic grunt from his mouth. She couldn't keep pretending. She wasn't meant for this. She—
"Stop!"
He froze, arms trembling at her sides. His lips pushed together and she swore she saw a twitch above his cheek.
"What's the problem?" he asked, his voice was hoarse and strained.
"It…" she pried the words from her lips.
She couldn't talk to him like this, with him looking above her, completely detached from the fact that she was a human being. Her skin prickled with anger. It was almost like she wasn't even there.
"Look at me!" she said, louder than she meant as she tried to hold back frustrated tears.
His expression darkened and for the first time, his amber-brown eyes met her own.
Those lost, lonely, painful eyes.
His pupils expanded as they locked on her close beneath him, consuming the warm brown hues around them. He was coming back from wherever his mind had imprisoned him, and suddenly he was looking at her with such emotion that she couldn't even face him anymore. This wasn't pleasure or companionship, it wasn't even sex. It was something else, a release of trauma. An outlet.
He was broken. She saw it in his haunted face.
"It hurts too much," she said, her voice quaking.
He didn't wait, sliding out of her, breath shaking and restrained.
As soon as he pulled out, she breathed a sigh of relief, cupping her hand over her vagina. It still burned and she fought hard not to cry, not only for the discomfort but for everything. For what she had done. For what she now was.
She blinked, trying to hide her tears.
"I hurt you," his voice was soft, different, curious. And is eyes? They were enraptured. Like he had just seen the first dawn of the sun.
Now she was the one who couldn't look at him.
"It's okay. We can try again. I just need a moment."
He moved off her, and she sat, looking at the way his wide chest still heaved, his body just as hard as when he penetrated her.
She got up and walked over to the nightstand that supported a carafe and two cups. She poured two glasses of water out, the pouring of liquid being the only sound in the room.
"Here." She came back and offered him a glass.
He didn't take it, and still, his eyes did not leave her.
"If you want, I can get one of the more experienced girls."
"I don't want anyone else." He almost said the words right over the top of hers.
Rey blushed, not because of the compliment— if that was a compliment—but more because the way he was watching her, it made her feel vulnerable and shameful. He was the one paying for it, she shouldn't feel ashamed.
She returned to the bed, laying back as she had earlier, arms by her side, knees bent, eyes fixed on the mirror above.
"Okay, I'm ready now."
She waited for the weight of him to press down on her, for the length of him to spear inside her, but nothing. She looked up in time to see the bathroom door close.
She watched for the door to open again, for the toilet to flush, for anything.
Silence.
She crept up to it, pressing her ear to the door. She couldn't hear much, just the repeating sound of…
Oh … she backed away with hot cheeks. He was finishing without her.
Rey wanted to cry, and she didn't know why the hell that was. Humiliation, shame, fear, the sudden realisation she was now a prostitute—but one so shit her client was actually paying $400 an hour to jerk-off in the bathroom.
She checked the time. 12.15am. had paid for the whole night.
An hour passed but the door did not open. She slipped into bed, her naked body snuggling into the sheets, pulling the duvet up around her face.
Waiting.
1.30am, 2.00am .
She nestled into the pillow. That was at least one perk, the bedding here was luxurious. Her eyelids lingered closed with every blink.
2.15am, 2.30am...
The bathroom door cracked open, and she heard quiet his quiet footsteps. Rey didn't dare look at him, and he didn't speak. She just held her pillow, eyes half-closed, heart pounding in her chest, waiting for the moment he would turn her over and fuck her again.
He came in next to her and he pulled her close, cradling her waist as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt his cock twitch at the press of her body against his. She waited, and the minutes passed.
"Kylo?" she whispered.
More silence. He was not asleep, she knew this by the fact his fingers were moving against her skin, and then his lips pressed into the back of her neck with a slow kiss.
What was this? Hugging. Kissing. He was breaking all his own bloody rules. She was about to ask, when his fingers tentatively began to draw circles across her abdomen, gradually creeping below her navel. She could hear him breathing, soft but still heavy. The tantilising motion sent a tingling pleasure inside her. Then his hands were between her legs, moving slowly and softly.
Rey gasped with surprise at the gentleness of his strokes, and the panting warm breaths against her ear.
"You don't need to..."
She lost her words, the sensation building within overwhelmed her senses. Her breathing came on heavy and harder as she moaned involuntarily at his touch. Each swirl of his touch brought her tighter and tighter—fingers slipping inside, sending more waves through her body.
She tried to be quiet, but the pleasure was building to a point that she was struggling to keep control
Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and lowered his head between her legs.
"What are you doing?" she gasped.
He pulled her legs apart purposely, and the gentle nudge of his tongue rubbed against her insistently.
She moaned at the sensation. No one had ever gone down on her before, and it was...
"I'm going to come!" she told him breathlessly, arching her back. Euphoric and guilty at the attention he was giving her.
"I'm coming!" she tried to pull his head up towards her but he pressed her further, legs locked open with his hands as his tongue slicked around her centre. He flicked and sucked, building an avalanche with her. Faster and harder he whirled it around her most sensitive places.
Rey had never been one to moan during sex unless she was faking, but oh God … His tongue thrust harder and harder against her. She tried to hold in her cries but she was so close, she arched back higher and higher into the air… it felt…
She cried out, body trembling and shuddering with every wave of release. She lay there limp and panting, his gentle strokes back to running circles around her abdomen. He pulled her close, cradling her once more into the natural curve of his huge frame. She fit well there. More than ever, she could feel his heat beside her, the tip of him wet with arousal.
"Here let me—" she reached for him and he stopped her hand, gripping it at the wrist.
"But what about—"
"Sleep," he said. "I'm tired."
"You don't feel tired," she whispered, feeling the gentle nudging of his body behind her.
He didn't answer, but she felt him chuckle.
"I am tired."
She didn't press him, opting instead to lay there, stiff and unsure, the erratic throbbing of him behind her and her own body throbbing with the comedown of pleasure.
Eventually, his sharp hot breaths turned into slow, lingering ones and she knew he was asleep.
It was done she supposed. Whatever that was, it was done. She took a deep breath, feeling the emptiness inside her. The only comfort coming from the strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into sleep.
She placed her hand over his own, closing her eyes, and drifted off to sleep barely wondering what the morning would bring.
Notes:
How you all doing back there? Is everyone okay?
Thanks for the support that you have shown this fic already. This is not a smut fest, even though this chapter kinda was, There's a bit of character development to come yet and few curve balls so I hope you're still with me.
If you're not. Thanks anyway for reading
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