The Client

A howling scream ripped Rey from her sleep. Faint at first, teasing her out of her slumber, infiltrating her dreams.

Her eyes shot open, disorientated as to where she was or what was happening.

"No! No! Stop!" a high-pitched voice shattered through the night air.

Rose!

Rey bolted upright, ready to leap out of bed when a strong hand pressed down on her shoulder.

"Stay here." The voice was deep, so rich and tactile that she could almost feel it brushing against her ear.

"No, I want to—" Kylo Ren's dark shape disappeared out the door. "Help."

The darkness heightened Rey's senses; she could hear the fan of a laptop working in the corner, see the dim shadows reaching out like fingers across the bedroom.

She wouldn't wait any longer. She wasn't helpless.

Grabbing her robe, she pulled the door open and almost ran straight into Rose.

"Oh God, it's just you," Rose said, clutching her hand across her heart.

"Rose, was that you screaming? What happened?"

She didn't need to answer, Rose's eyes were red-rimmed and wet, her pink camisole torn in four different places and there were angry scratch marks across her arms.

Rey's jaw tightened and she scrunched her hands to fists, nails digging into her palms.

No one hurts Rose. No one.

"Who did this to you?"

"I don't know, it was that new guy, Dathomir something." Rose stifled her cries, hiding them with deep, heaving breaths. "He got really violent out of nowhere. He pulled a knife on me and… there's something wrong with him."

Her words denigrated into a babbling string of sobs and incoherent words. Rey put a consoling hand upon her shoulder, wrestling with the overwhelming desire to run down the hall and unleash her last seven years of martial arts training on Rose's client.

A loud crash came from down the hall, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Rey's heart leapt in her chest.

Kylo had gone to help Rose. Was he still in there with that psycho?

A horrible feeling coiled in her stomach.

Why was it so quiet now? What if he was hurt, or worse?

She had to go and help him. She could hold her own in a fight. If Kylo was bleeding out at the hands of some crazed madman while she stood there and did nothing—

"I'm going to help him."

"No, don't!" Rose's voice rose in alarm. "Kylo can handle it, trust me. He'll roast me alive if I let you go in there."

"But he could be hurt—"

Another crash, this time louder and more violent, as a bloodied man with dark hair spilled into the hallway as though he had been spat out. His knees buckled and he threw his arms against the wall to lessen the impact.

"Kylo!" Rey gasped, clutching her hands to her mouth in panic. But when the man looked back at them, she saw his teeth were filed into points and his face covered in black, angular tattoos.

He pulled himself to stand and hissed at them with a murderous scowl. Rey stepped before Rose, reaching her arm in front of her friend protectively. And then Kylo stepped out, chest heaving. Their eyes met across the distance and Rey could breathe again.

"I want my money back!" Dathomir shouted, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You'll get your money back." Kylo shoved him down the hall. "Now, get the hell out of here."

Dathomir swung around, his hands clenched in a fist as he attempted one last blow at Kylo, but he was too slow as Kylo kicked him in the chest, sending him flying down the stairs and hitting the wall at the bottom with a dull thud.

"Phasma! Get this wanker out of here and fucking blacklist him!" Kylo roared down the stairs.

Dathomir's grumbling protests came from below, but soon after, the door slammed shut and he was gone.

"You alright?" he asked, looking at Rose, who seemed to have lost the use of her voice, mouth agape and sniffing. She answered with a rushed nod.

"I'm sorry, that escalated really quickly," Rose said, her tears finally subsiding.

"It's okay," he said stiffly. "Are you finished for tonight?"

"I still have two clients left."

Kylo looked away from her in silent thought.

"Tell Phasma I said you're done for tonight."

"It's okay, I'll be okay."

"Rose, go home." Kylo's voice was so tender and empathetic, Rey had to check the words were coming from him. "Go home to your daughter.

"Here." He reached into his pocket, pulling out some notes and placing them in Rose's trembling hand. "Take this for a cab ride home and some extra to cover the loss of your earnings."

Rey could have hugged him; but instead, she stood there at a loss for words, watching as he turned and left them alone, retreating into the darkened room, the glow of his laptop screen lighting up his face.

Rose gripped Rey in a hug. "What the hell just happened there?"

Rey shrugged. She couldn't pretend she didn't know what Rose was talking about. Kylo's actions had been surprising and gentle, and above all, kind.

And kindness was not a word she would have associated with him, ever.

Once Rose had left, Rey sauntered back into the room.

Kylo was sitting at his laptop at the desk by the wall, fingers on the keys.

Tap, tap, tap, click. The quiet sounds filled the silence. Rey watched him from the door. He was impassive and focused, as though the act of painting the walls red with another man's blood was nothing new to him.

Who are you? she thought as the door closed quietly behind her. His run-in with Dathomir hadn't appeared to shake him, not even a little.

Job done. Problem removed.

Cold.

But not entirely heartless.

She shivered. The bedroom fire had died out, the muted embers straining through charcoal and ash. She thought back to the first night they had slept together, when he had pulled her into his body as though they made up a taijitu. Two halves of a whole.

But what would happen now, would he make her get back on her knees and finish him? That was what she was here for anyway, a fact she sometimes forgot.

She sighed; she should go to him. It could be worse. He could be worse. Instead, he was strange … intriguing. Like a black hole, a shadow of darkness, dragging her closer and closer.

She took a step, the cool timber of the floor smooth and distracting beneath her feet.

He shifted in his chair, back straightening. She had been studying him for far too long.

The force of his gravity lured her like a moth to the flame, calling one foot in front of the other. She stopped behind him, close enough to run her fingers across his shoulders and he stiffened, sensing her. With a series of clicks, the browser windows disappeared, fading into black.

A gentle breeze slipped in from the window, shimmying in beneath the curtain. Rey could feel the rapid beating of her pulse and the sound of his breathing, her awareness heightened by the absence of light.

She reached out tentatively and put a hand on his shoulder. He breathed in sharply at the touch, almost flinching at the gentle way her fingers skimmed against his skin.

His hand closed over her own, and Rey felt like there was a storm inside her, the rumbling of thunder, loud and wanting. How could his touch both ground and elevate her?

She took a step closer, feeling like her heart was trapped within a cage, beating hard against the walls of her body, trying to break free.

He pulled the palm of her hand against his cheek. It was soft beneath the stubble, long and smoothe

And then he —

Did he?

She was sure she felt the brush of lips at her fingers. They were soft, teasing and tender. And then he released her, hands falling gently by her side, warm with the heat of electricity.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked, hating the way her voice wavered with uncertainty, terrified that beneath the question he would know what she was really asking him: That despite everything, that traitorous body was yearning, clenching to be in his arms, to roll like waves upon the ocean.

He turned on her, peering up at her face. The light of the street lamps gave a soft glow to his eyes. There was such a haunting beauty about that face, how could she not have noticed before?

"Are you working at the restaurant tomorrow?"

She paused nervously. "Yes. ten 'till three."

"And then you start here at six pm?"

"My shift starts at five. They like us to be here to set the room up."

He nodded, contemplating her words. "So where does sleep factor into all of this?"

"It doesn't," she answered with a sleepy smile. Even hearing the word "sleep" had started her yawning. "But it's okay, I don't need to—"

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Get some sleep, Rey."

Then he turned his back on her, returning to his work.

Rey hesitated. He was paying for her. She squeezed her lips together, brow furrowing, hating herself for what she was about to do.

"You don't seem to be getting much bang for your buck," she said at last.

"You noticed?" He made an odd sound, almost like a muffled laugh, before he turned around to face her.

But Rey was not laughing, or smiling, in fact, she was trying very hard to hide the underlying sting that had been manifesting ever since he pulled away from her on the first night. Perhaps he didn't desire her. She was small-breasted, with a body she often thought of as boy-like. She wasn't sexy. God knows why Phasma thought she would be good at this job… but here he was not using her. Not that she wanted to be used in that way, but, like, really?

"What's the matter?" he asked, bemused, almost innocent.

Rey rolled her eyes and pouted. Really? Was he going to make her spell this out?

"You—" The words failed her.

"Yes?"

"Do you no—" Shit, this was awkward.

He leaned forward, peering at her from beneath his brows, eyes dark and curious.

Rey held her arms stiffly by her side and took a deep breath.

"Do you not want me?"

Kylo stared back at her; unblinking, his expression unreadable.

"Are you asking me if I want to have sex with you?"

She wanted to die, bury herself in a hole somewhere and hide there forever. She opened her mouth to speak, but her capacity for language seemed to have fled. So instead, she just nodded.

"Err." He couldn't even meet her eye.

He was stalling.

Fuck! He was trying to come up with some excuse, and even in this light, she could see he was blushing at the confrontation.

His awkward silence was deafening and Rey shrank backward.

"Good night, Kylo." She went to hide under the covers of her bed, but as she turned, he leaped out of his chair, reaching out to stop her from walking away. When he captured her wrist, he tugged it gently, forcing her back.

She was dying, her face burning with a scorned blush that stretched from her cheeks all the way down her chest in giant blooming blotches. Her lashes skimmed her cheeks as she kept her eyes glued to the ground, hiding her humiliation and the fact that she was genuinely upset. It was dumb to care, she shouldn't care, but it was hard not to.

"Rey, look at me."

Did she have to? Couldn't he just let her slide away and hide for the rest of the evening beneath the covers? A gentle nudge of his thumb lifted her chin and she was forced to see the way he was enraptured by her.

His eyes were consumed by the black depth of his pupils, those wide, soft lips parted as he leaned towards her, radiating a primal hunger.

Rey struggled to breathe properly, as the briefest touch of a smile formed on his lips.

"Of course I want to."

"Then why don't you?" She looked up at him and swallowed again.

"Why don't I what?" he asked, leaning more into her, his black gaze darker and hungrier than ever before.

"Say it!" he growled into her ear, as the pulsing desire threaded through her veins, pumping blood between her legs.

She blinked. "Why don't you have sex with me?" Her soft voice quavered only a little less violently than her knees as his dark eyes narrowed in on her, head tilting, face curious.

"I'm waiting," he answered with that expressionless face.

"For what?"

"For you to want me to." His low, rumbling voice echoed into her mind and for a moment in time, he captured her in his gaze, locking her in place.

Waiting.

She looked away from him, screaming at that wild desirous part of her body that wanted to throw herself at him, to tear off her clothes and lie back on the bed with her legs spread, wet and waiting for the weight of his body to bear down on her, for him to crush her in his embrace, for—

What the hell was happening to her?!

"Okay," she whispered softly.

"Okay?" he asked, his right eyebrow arching as a nervous tick twitched beneath his eye, reaching his hand to cup around the curve of her waist, smooth and silky beneath the satin robe.

"I mean, okay, good night," she said, flushing profusely as she backed away from him in a rush. "Night, Kylo!"

She turned away quickly, her body sliding into bed as though it had turned to liquid. Once in bed, she noticed he had gone back to work, seemingly oblivious whether she was here or not.

She watched him for a long while, listening to the melodic tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. She fell asleep like that, watching him work.

—

With only a few hours before dawn, Kylo closed his screen and stood, muscles stiff from the hours he had spent researching the past, and paths of the future. As he rounded towards the bed, he was arrested by Rey's sleeping form.

How could she have thought he had not wanted her? He'd never wanted anything more. A soft moan escaped her lips and he was reminded of … things.

His body reacted, aching for release.

He couldn't trust himself to be close to her, to feel her body fit snugly into his. Not yet. Not with this overwhelming desire within him.

He made a beeline to the bathroom and turned the shower on, soaking beneath the torrid flow of scalding water.

Visions of the past, the first time he had pulled her clothes off, touched her, ran his fingers through her hair, into the warmth of her core…

He reached out, palm pressed hard against the white tiles, the other hand reaching below. Grasping firmly, he thrust his hips as his hand pumped hard and fast, building the friction to match his desire. The visions of her arching her back as his mouth pressed between her lips, the wanting cries building in crescendo.

God how he wanted her, wanted her in every possible way a man could want a woman. His breath came heavy in his lungs, the muscles in his arm tiring sharply as the wave of release shuddered through his body.

He collapsed against the wall, panting, throbbing, the water dripping down his hair and face.

Eventually, he turned the shower off, staring into the mirror, his face flushed from the effort of his secret endeavours. He breathed in through his nose, filling his chest.

He couldn't touch her. Not now. Not after what Maz had told him. Not until he was sure that she wanted him to.

But fuck, he wanted to.

If only she knew how much.

He slipped in beside her, wrapping his large arms around her body and drawing her into his chest. She didn't even stir.

"Rey?" he whispered and waited, but her only answer was the rise and fall of her chest, the slow soft breaths puffing from her parted lips. He stroked the loose strands of dark hair that had fallen across her cheek, clearing a space to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

Perfect.

"Life has been cruel to you, Rey," he whispered, "but not anymore."

Chapter notes:

Taijitu: Is what we commonly know as the Yin-Yang symbol

Thanks so much for reading and commenting, especially to my guest users who I can't respond to but appreciate every comment they make.

Y'all can find me on Tumblr: blog/wayofthepathfinder or Twitter /WayPathfinder

Chapter 9 is also coming in the next couple of hours. Just taking the sprogs to the beach.

Many thanks x