He wanted her.
She had always known that. But here, now, as he peered at her through the darkness, she had felt it more than ever.
In the gloomy light, his pale face was pointed and hungry, the messy waves and tattered outline of his hair transforming him into a mythological creature, a beast, half man, half monster. It reminded Rey of their first night together, when he'd charged into the room with one purpose.
The memory made her squirm, the sight of his dark eyes roaming across every inch of her exposed skin, lingering on the curve of her hips and lower…
She shivered, remembering how it felt when those gentle fingers had ghosted over her, becoming firm and urgent, squeezing and possessing —
It had been shameful; the way her blood rushed once she'd realised the power she held over him.
Tonight he had that same look in his eyes.
Rey's cheeks burned as she watched the way his gaze followed the path of clothes scattered on the floor, a trail of breadcrumbs to the bed. His eyes widened and narrowed in the same beat, roaming over the bed sheet, tilting his head as he followed the line from her toes to her shoulders, framing her naked outline.
Rey had told herself that she liked the slippery feel of the cotton sheets on her bare skin, that she couldn't sleep with pyjamas strangling her body, that being naked was the only way she could feel comfortable.
Lies!
She damn well knew what it meant. She wanted him too, far too much. Despite everything, she knew about Kylo Ren, she'd forced her mind to silence every fear and misgiving about who he really was. Even blood-stained and wild, she still wanted him to hold and kiss and make love to her.
She would take these feelings to her grave. No one ever need know how the thrilling desire to be lusted after by a creature of darkness had done things to her.
The bed dipped and creaked as he prowled over her, until he was sitting above her on his knees. She tried to wriggle, but in answer his thighs clamped firmly around her, holding her in place.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He lowered his head, nuzzling hungrily from her ear to the base of her neck. Rey wasn't one to wear perfume; her natural scent was the raw mix of sweat, city grit and home brand soap. It made her feel self-conscious being so plain. She was sure the other girls must smell—
Oh! Without warning, his lips locked onto to her neck, sucking in a violent, hungry motion. It unleashed the steady beat of her heart into a wild thing and her toes curled.
"You said I was a monster," he hissed into her ear, left-hand sliding down the side of her body. "Say it again."
She pushed him back and shook her head, unable to look at anything but the broken crack split down his cheek, still angry and inflamed. She wondered if that scar would stay with him for life.
"I'm not saying it."
His stone-cold hands curved over her hips, palming across her abdomen with fingers splayed, pressing.
"Say it!"
Rey shook her head, lips pressed in a frown. Where was the gentle soul who'd kissed her wrist so innocently just hours earlier?
Where was the light she had seen in his eyes? Stolen away into the darkness.
The muscles corded in his neck, that tiny flick beneath his eye, ticking away like a time bomb. "I told you to say—"
"No!" Rey shouted.
She was starting to feel sick now, a heavy dread settling in her stomach. She didn't care what he said or did, she wouldn't let him fall to the dark, not now. There was still light in him, she had felt it. Her right hand reached up, cupping his cheek, thumb massaging the glistening skin beneath.
"You're not a monster."
He chuckled darkly, lips askew and broken into an unnatural smile, his eyes glistening.
"Yes, I am."
Kylo pulled away, reaching across the bed as he pulled something from the drawer. When he came back, there was a tube of lubricant in his right hand.
Without a word, he unscrewed the lid, the sickly-sweet fragrance filled the air, and all the while he kept his eyes locked on hers, dark and intense.
He leaned forward, arms braced on either side of her head and she felt his cock pressing against her underwear. It took every ounce of resolve she had not to push into him, seeking his warmth between her legs.
Sharp teeth grazed down her neck and he spoke into her ear, the tickling breath making her writhe.
"I need to fuck you."
She bit her lip, staring at the ceiling, at the pale grey square of gyprock and glue where the mirror had been, fighting her own internal battle whether to give in to the dizzying heat of his breath, grazing her skin, and the pulsing, burning pressure between her legs, or to rise up against it.
His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her underwear and...
No! She clamped her thighs together, heart pounding. Not like this.
"I need it," he gritted through clenched teeth, the sound of his voice razor sharp. There was a frenzied urgency to his movements. "And it's your job."
Your job. The words cut deep. Just a whore.
His hands slapped together, lathering the lube between his fingers, rubbing it along his cock, gliding his fingertips down from her navel.
"Tell me to stop." His hand searched between her legs and Rey closed her eyes, her strength of will lapsing as she struggled to focus on anything other than the feeling of his fingers gently tracing patterns between her legs, along the caverns and folds, exploring her. She squirmed, betrayed by the gathering heat electrifying in her core.
"I don't want to. Not like this," she said in a rush. She couldn't, not after what she feared to be true—
His hand stopped circling her, and he exhaled testily, resting his fingers against her clit. If he would only get out of her pants, she could gain some higher ground. She went to move his hand away and he swept his thumb over her once more, it was far too rough - but her fucking body pushed into him like some disobedient child.
"I'll pay you double."
"Why were you covered in blood?"
His lips tightened. "Triple."
"No!"
"Damn it, Rey! I'll give you whatever you fucking want!" he spat, saliva frothing at the edges of his mouth.
The muscles in his neck hardened and Rey felt the darkness washing over him. The anger had always been there, but now he was going to break.
A muscle feathered in his jaw, and then he pulled his hand away, back from the brink. Rey breathed in relief and quiet frustration.
A roving headlight from a passing car chased the darkness from Kylo's face and Rey was startled to find lines of tears streaking his cheeks. A warm drop fell from his jaw and onto her breast.
For a fleeting moment, she was reminded of the night Unkar Plutt had sold her, how she had snuck away to the bathroom to stare at her reflection, how the moonlight had ripped across her face in jagged lines. It was the first time she had seen how broken she truly was. It was the same thing she could see now, but in Kylo's face.
"Ben," she whispered.
Black, haunted eyes flicked to hers at the sound, as though she had sent an emergency beacon across the stars. She reached her hand to his cheek once more, wiping away a fresh tear, but then his hand closed around her wrist, threading their fingers, lowering her hand back to the bed.
"You shouldn't call me that."
"It's your name," she whispered, and with a bite of her lip added, "Ben."
His lips assaulted her neck with hurried, fevered kisses, sucking her ear lobe in a rhythmic motion, pulling and tugging at the skin until her body reacted, pushing up to meet him.
And how she wanted him, a ravaging fire was burning in her gut, the heat raging down her legs.
Not like this, she coached herself. Not like this!
She fought the urge, the rising fires raging in her soul, pulling back from him, turning away, panting and heaving in wanting breaths.
"Please, Rey." Kylo's voice threatened to break, the emotion waiting to spill over. His cheek rested on her own. "Please take this away. I don't want to feel it. I can't-"
Her memory stirred.
She was that girl behind the dumpster at school. It was recess. Rey lay on the ground, legs open, some teenage jock fucking her on the hot asphalt. She didn't bother pretending to like it, and the boy hardly cared. She rested her head on the ground, ignoring the way the gravel pushed against her back, counting the fluffy clouds lazily chugging overhead, growing and merging into different shapes: an umbrella, a rainbow, a crocodile.
Rey watched them, numbed, the physical sensation of sex driving away the pain. It wasn't the first time she had done it, nor the last, different boys, drunk at parties, passed out in the gutter, in night club alleyways, over and over again.
Fuck it away, fuck away the pain. The motion made her forget.
And she understood, perhaps for the first time. The emptiness. The desire to pack it all away: self-loathing, fear, everything that eats away at your soul in ferocious, hounding bites. Sex was like drinking absinthe, heightening your senses, but dulling others. In those months after losing her virginity, it had tricked her into thinking it would take away the pain.
The barb left, but the constant ache of heartbreak always remained.
Kylo went to move off her, when she reached out and touched his forearm and he went deathly still, waiting.
"Okay," she said softly.
He looked back at her with a sad expression, not moving.
"It's okay." She tucked her thumb through her underpants and shimmied them off. "I know."
He came back to her, slick fingers spreading the lube through her warmest places, pressing inside, testing her readiness. She had no time to feel embarrassed by how wet she was already and he didn't say anything. His fingers were rough and functional, no time for pleasure or exploring. He pulled his hand away, wiping the excess moisture on his abdomen. He was in a hurry as he grabbed the condom from the side table, cursing and fingers slipping as he tried to tear it open.
"Let me." She took it from him, tearing open the wrapper. Without asking, she unfurled it over the length of him with gentle fingers. He watched her as she worked, silent, patient, impassive.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and Rey returned an uncertain smile at him, unsure if he meant to thank her for putting the condom on, or for what she had agreed to do.
The bed creaked even louder this time as he shifted all his weight on top of her, the rubbery tip of his cock pressing at her entrance, but not pushing inside.
He's holding back, she thought, noticing the way he looked away from her, grimacing as if faced with some moral dilemma.
"It's okay. You don't need to be gentle."
With brows pinched, he nodded his head and in the next breath, he was inside her. She held onto him, clasping her hands over his shoulder blades and with a final fleetings look at her, he turned his face aside and thrust.
Rey jumped at the pressure, even though her body was ready and waiting for him, she still needed time to adjust and mould. He pulled back and thrust again, deeper this time and rougher.
A grunt escaped her as she gritted her teeth.
He stopped at the noise, eyes flashing at her fearfully.
Come on, body. She gave herself a pep-talk. You can take him.
"I'm okay. It's okay." She angled her body beneath his and bent her knees up, opening her legs further. "Keep going."
He pushed inside again, gentler this time, and her fingers curled over his shoulders, massaging his shoulder blades, around his neck, watching as his body rolled into her, each pulse driving harder, every thrust trying to expel some pain, some memory as she took him. She could see it in his face, the way he winced at what should have been pleasure. And just like their first night together, he looked through her, over her, anywhere but at her. He was far away, chest red and breathing hoarse, hammering into her body.
Rey went back to what she knew, blocking everything out but the physical feelings: friction, heat, discomfort, pleasure. She parked her emotions at the back of her mind and focussed on the way he pounded her against the mattress. She clutched at his shoulders, holding on tightly as though she were riding a bucking bull, kicking and thrusting, like he was trying to be free.
Kylo's arms tensed, trembling with the effort of sex, sweat layering his back. He shifted, changing the motion of his thrusts and Rey's legs tightened around him, an unplanned pleasure firing in her core. With every breath and thrust she began to gasp. She shouldn't, not while he was in so much pain, but — she released a muffled cry, clutching to his shoulders, yearning to kiss him, to meet his eyes, to let him know that it felt fucking amazing to have him inside her, but he still refused to look at her. She closed her eyes, trying to shut her mind from the amazing feeling of him rubbing up against her, trying to hold back the orgasm building within.
He fucked her harder and she wrenched her short nails into his skin, the building pleasure forcing more primal reactions. He grunted into her ear, breath coming hard, and she responded, a cry. Animals, they were animals. She shoved her hips against him, clenching her body, chasing that fleeting pleasure. In return, his rutting grunts came loud and fierce and she couldn't look away. The way his eye twitched, lips parted with panting breaths. She tried to move in sync with him, but he was too fast and erratic. Heat was building inside her as dark hair flung around his face. The thread of pleasure she had tried to chase was gone now, replaced with a motion that was too violent and fast. His skin slapped on hers, rushed heaving breaths, played out against the screeching of the bed mattress.
He was almost there: thrust, thrust, thrust—until his eyes squeezed shut and she felt him release, his body pulsating, exhausted from his hard-won orgasm.
He collapsed on her, pinning her flat against the mattress. It was over, her muscle throbbed, yearning for pleasure, to reach a climax too. She tried to breathe, but the weight of him was crushing her.
"Can you get off me?" She pushed at his shoulders. "You're too heavy. I can't breathe."
He pulled out of her with a slick pop and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. As the weight rescinded she relaxed, not realising how tense and hard she had been beneath him.
It was empty sex, without love, or passion. She wanted to enjoy it, but this was not—this was something else. This was wrong. She turned to see him, praying for him to look her in the eyes, but he must have felt her silent pleas and in answer, he rolled away on his side.
He doesn't care.
Rey blinked away rogue tears, staring at his glistening back, at the raw lines she had marked with her nails only moments ago. She couldn't look away, like he were some accident on the side of the road.
She touched his back gently, and instantly he recoiled, moving further away.
"Kylo?" she whispered, voice breaking dangerously close to tears.
He ignored her.
Rey nodded to herself, chewing on her bottom lip. There it was. He had fucked her just like he had meant to on their first night-like a whore, like a fucking whore.
Hold me. She thought she had whispered it, but the words were trapped in her throat, held hostage by her tears. Please don't cast me aside like trash.
Almost sensing her thoughts, he sat up on the side of the bed, rolling off his condom.
"I—" Shit. Had she done the wrong thing? She didn't understand.
Rey reached out to him once more, and again he flinched as though her touch was like a burn to his skin. Without a word, he stood up, forcing her hand to slip away as he walked into the bathroom.
She couldn't believe this was happening. Rey rolled into a foetal position, hugging her knees.
In the absence of his love or even affection, she came to understand how much she had yearned for it now. She was supposed to be helping him, but suddenly that broken girl behind the bin was looking back at her, the girl who spilled her first blood by a stranger for cash, the girl that nobody loved...
The weight of her past crushed down on top of her. She was the one that needed him to hug her, to tell her everything would be okay. That she was more—she heaved, fighting a losing battle to hold back the waves of emotion.
That she was more than a whore. That to someone, just one person, she was everything.
The first tears slipped quietly onto her pillow, disappearing as they soaked through the cotton.
Don't let him see, she sniffed quietly, trying to hold it all back.
Without a word, Kylo got back into bed, back to back with her, inches apart.
She didn't need him to tell her what he'd done tonight. She already knew, she'd seen the blood-stained water rushing down his body in the shower, she'd smelt the sweet copper on his skin.
She'd slept with a murderer.
The bed shook with small, shuddering tremors and she could hear Kylo's breath rasping unevenly.
Rey turned around, watching the way each breath filled his lungs and deflated. The headlights of the cars on the street below flashed across his back like a roving spotlight, and for the first time, she noticed the tiny silver scars that criss crossed his back, faded bruises and a raw angry welt.
What had happened to him tonight? How had that fucking bastard made him into this?
"Kylo," she whispered, "do you want to talk about it?"
Rain tapped against the rooftops, spilling over the gutters, spluttering against the window with every wavering gust, but otherwise, the room was quiet.
Rey clutched her heart. The sting of being used. The pain of not being enough to bring him back. It was all too much to bear. She couldn't hide the sobs any more, they washed over her, hysteric and fast—
And he let her cry. Alone. Heaving, rasping sobs that filled her eyes with too many tears.
The low, tinny vibration of Kylo's smartphone sounded from the fireplace, as the blue-tinged luminescent light lit up the wall in a series of flashes. Rey half-sat up as Kylo lunged out of bed, grabbing the phone and pulling it to his ear.
"What the fuck do you want?" His voice was dark, a ferocious growl hissing through gritted teeth.
It was Snoke. It had to be.
The memory of her boss trying to break down the door caused a fresh wave of panic to wash over Rey. She shouldn't be here. If he were to come back—
"You already know it's done. I was there when Hux told you."
Rey edged back against the bedhead, watching his back expanding with the ragged rhythm of his breathing, his neck and shoulders tense. There was a tuft of hair beneath the right pit of his arm, as he held the phone to his ear, the other hand, pulling at the nape of his neck.
"No, I've done everything you have asked of me—"
He pulled his hand away from his neck, clutching at the fireplace ledge as though it were the only thing keeping him standing. There was an underlying sharpness in the air and the hairs at the back of Rey's neck started to tingle, that raw instinct of hers springing awake.
"Leave me alone," Kylo growled into the phone, the haughty demand losing its edge towards the end. "For one fucking night, just leave me alone!"
And like that, the storm had arrived ...
There wasn't much Rey remembered of her father. For the most part, he was pretty absent, in mind if not body. But there was one aspect of his personality she could remember: rage. It broke like a storm against a seawall. Just subtle hints at first, the speed of his voice, hurried breathing, erratic movements. Before the rage began, Rey had come to feel unexplained energy in the air, tense and silent as she waited on the edge of a dark sky.
And this was what it felt like now.
Kylo stared at his phone; the screen had timed out and now he only looked at a black rectangle, saying nothing. Rey bit her lip, wondering if she should go to him.
Her feet touched the ground, but just as the tips of her toes skimmed the floor, he punched his hand into the desert painting above the wall and she froze. She was too late.
"Kylo?" Her quiet voice echoed out into the empty space, but even as it left her lips, his other hand fisted again and smashed into the wall, cracking through plaster.
Rey jumped. The pain would have wrecked his hand, but Kylo barely seemed to notice. Her feet hovered between the floor and the bed. At last, she tucked herself away into a ball, pulling the plush white duvet over her knees like a little child.
There was a point in rage, when the emotions are too heightened, that the explosion tearing shrapnel through a broken soul had to be released. She knew, from watching her father do this, there was no place to intercede. It had to pass on its own.
Kylo's storm hit with thunderous blows. Paintings were ripped from the wall; the ashtray hit the ground with a thud, too stubborn to break until Kylo sent it flying against the other wall. Next was the desk, uprooted, thrown, pens and paper scattering on the ground. He moved through the room like an angry tornado, ripping them apart, spitting, kicking, screaming, knuckles spilling with crimson trails. His stuff, her stuff, the glasses of water and crystal carafes, now in tiny shards against the timber floor. And all the time, he clutched the phone in his other hand, keeping it safe.
The phone buzzed with what sounded to Rey like a text. He held it out, barely glancing at it in the first instance, and then did a double take, looking at Rey.
And that was it. He threw it to the ground, stomped on it and pulled up the desk chair, repeatedly smashing the chair over the top of it until there was nothing left but a splintered, broken screen.
Rey's hand had clutched her heart, tears falling down her face in terror. Not of him, amazingly, Kylo Ren did not scare her, but she knew this place, the utter devastation when another person rapes your soul of who you are, of your hope, your integrity, your strength.
Snoke had broken him tonight, but she wouldn't let this be the end.
"Ben," she cried, her voice soft and pleading.
He froze, hands still bleeding. The red and blue lights of a passing patrol car flashed across his body, siren echoing loudly through the room, red and blue. They crossed him and then he fell back into shadow.
"Get out." His head hung low, looking at the destruction at his feet, and at last to her. "Get out of here."
She couldn't move. He advanced on her, not even bothering to tiptoe around the shattered glass and splintered wood.
There was a hurried knock at the door, and Kylo froze.
"Rey! Is everything alright in there? Open the door."
Their eyes met.
"Everything's fine, Rose, I—" Rey searched for the words, looking at the utter devastation in front of her, "—tripped."
"If you're sure…" Rose answered with obvious unease.
"Yes, we're all good, Kylo's just a little—" Rey stumbled at a loss for words "—wild in the bedroom."
Kylo covered his face, a muffled sob or laugh escaping from him, and Rey shrugged her shoulders with a strained smile; it seemed so ridiculous that after everything that had just happened she could still find humour in a dark situation, perhaps she'd been pushed over the edge, or maybe she just couldn't cry anymore, or maybe she had just wanted him to laugh..
"Oh," Rose gasped in response. "Of course, I'll leave you to it."
They heard her footsteps fade away, and Kylo raised his eyebrows at her cynically. "You're a liar."
Rey shrugged her shoulders. "Not entirely."
He half-smiled at her, a faded smile that seemed to speak so many things to her: of his shame, embarrassment, regret.
She held her arms out to him like a mother. "Come here."
He took one last step towards her, and as though he had lost the strength in his limbs, he slumped to his knees, bowing before her, his head collapsing in her lap.
Rey's lips parted and she felt a tidal wave of warmth stirring at the sight of him at her feet. She tentatively reached her fingers into his hair, running them through the messy locks, caressing the tip of his ear, over his eyebrow, pushing the hair from his face.
"I'm sorry," muffled words breathed into her lap, and more than ever, she felt the pull of gravity between them, dragging her down to the floor, to him.
She gave into it, sinking between his open legs.
He couldn't look at her still, but this time she was here to help him. She reached out to his face and he flinched at her touch, his eyes surprised and curious.
She smiled. Since when had he made her feel like this? When had this twisted, complicated job turned from fear to compassion—to something so much more?
With a gentle swipe of her thumb, she cleared a tear away from his cheek, kissing the shiny emptiness in its place before leaning back again.
He raised his eyes to her in bewilderment.
"Why?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
Her left hand moved gently to the other side of his face, feeling the soft, moist skin beneath it. He tried to turn away from her insistent gaze, but she wouldn't let him. With gentleness, she raised his head with her hands, just enough to reach the natural light of the moon trying to break through the darkness.
And she knew what she had to do.
Snoke would destroy him with hate, with power, but she would save him with love.
His pupils were like a black sea, searching her face in wonderment, and before he could say another word, before he could pull away from her, and before she could question her action, Rey closed the distance between them and kissed him.
He startled, eyes wide in shock.
"I know it's against the rules—"
He grabbed her, hands clutched at her waist, pulling her into him, searching her back with swirling, pressing motions, like he couldn't touch enough of her at once.
His lips parted her own, exploring her, as though he were hungry for nothing but the feel of her lips on his. Ever since she'd seen those wide, full lips, she had wondered, just quietly, what it would be like to kiss him.
Their noses bumped together awkwardly, and she grinned, teeth flashing at him.
"More," he whispered, pulling her into his embrace again, with roaming hands and desperate kisses. Her heart thundered like the sound of a stampede.
"More," she pleaded back to him.
He found her hair, fingers massaging her scalp, letting her brown locks slip down around her bare shoulders, tracing his fingers down her neck, caressing her collarbone in soothing, gentle strokes.
They needed to breathe, forced to pull away from each other, gasping for air.
"Rey, why?" He shook his head. "Why would you do that?"
She looked at him, really looked at him, at the sadness and disbelief in his eyes.
"Because I know who you are, Ben Solo," she whispered, kissing him again, teasingly pulling away as he tried to pull her close again. "And I'm going to help you."
Author notes:
Peeks out from around the corner … How is everyone doing?
Okay?
Okay. Just breathe.
Now for my Oscars speech:
Thank you so much for reading this trash pile of angst. I am always so appreciative to see more and more people read, follow, comment, and favourite this fic. There are so many talented works of fiction out there that the fact anyway takes the time to read this makes my little heart soar.
Thank you as ever to my amazing beta readers:br /
Kath Knight and Azuwrite. They are both writers who I greatly respect so please show them some love.
Also—and this is my personal squee moment—I had a very special beta reader on this one: diasterisms! Far out, what an honour! If you've been living under a rock and haven't read her amazing work, I urge you to go check it out.
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