Three months later found Kylo on another shitty swamp planet for another cartel raid. Unfortunately, Artoid Minor was somehow worse than Marca not just because it was muddy and miserable but because it rained all year long.

They'd been walking the rainy streets for an hour looking for suitable accommodations. Suitable being a word that neither he nor Kira could agree upon. He was sore from a shoulder injury, waterlogged, mud caked, and at his wits end because she was driving him insane.

His short fuse had tapped out especially early today. It wasn't even the teasing , or the constant invasion of his personal space, or the maddening glimpses of her ass or breasts in her too thin clothes. All those things he'd learned to bottle up and deal with at the appropriate time, usually afterward in a cold shower.

It was that she wouldn't stop arguing with him. All. God damn. Day.

What he needed was to get away from her so he could think straight. Apparently, Kira had other ideas.

"You are out of your mind," Kylo sneered, storming away from the poorest excuse of a hotel he'd seen yet, Kira trailing after him. Vicrul Ren had kicked them out of the transport shuttle again, just like the others did. Kylo was starting to think it was becoming standard procedure, which would normally be fine if Kira had not started immediately following him.

"There was nothing wrong with that place," Kira snapped, rubbing her hands over her arms in the chill. With her desert blood, she hated the cold. He did too, though for an entirely different reason. The points of her nipples were visible under her shirt, making his jaw clench. She continued oblivious, "Your five star tastes are the problem."

Her flavor of the day mask today was a stabilizer mask with spiral designs she had picked up from a street hawker during their last mission on Theron. She hadn't shut up about their famous rock formations the entire way there, enough that he'd thought she'd insist that they go see them. Instead he'd spent the entire trip dragging her away from the local pod racing stadium.

"There are gutters with more hospitable accommodations. And it's not my tastes, it's that you have none."

Kira growled. "We'll end up sleeping in a gutter if you can't get over yourself."

He held out a hand to a nearby street. "Feel free to go back at any time."

She didn't, of course. "You are impossible."

Eventually they'd settled on the least offensive hotel Kylo could stand. After twenty grueling minutes of listening to Kira argue with the proprietor over room prices, he'd tossed his credit chip at the man's face and paid for them both, ignoring Kira's offended expression as he stormed off down a dark hall towards his room. She'd give him grief about it later, but right now he didn't care.

The room was as shitty as he expected. Bare brown walls, questionable fiber carpet that he didn't want to think about too much, a window that was leaking rain water on the window sill, and a desk that was likely as brittle as it looked.

Kylo was forced to suffer the indignity of squeezing into a fresher that was clearly not made for someone of his height. Likely the bed wasn't either. The water had been tepid and he'd gotten a headache trying to clean his blaster wound under the spray. Jerking off in the cramped space would only annoy him.

When the knock on the door sounded in the middle of redressing, Kylo's tenuous patience snapped. He stalked over in nothing but a pair of trousers and wrenched it open with a bang, ready to tear into the hapless hotel staff who had thought to bother him in the first place.

What he found instead was Kira standing in the middle of the hall in a new change of clothes, hair freshly wet and eyes spitting fire. Before the door had even fully opened she was already launching into some tirade, but stopped short when the door swung fully open and she got a good look at him. Her mouth fell open, her eyes stuttered and banked.

"What now?" he sneered. "Is the place not up to your standards?"

Her expression flickered murderously. "Oh shut up." But instead of retreating, she planted her hands on his bare chest and shoved him, forcing herself physically into his room. That shut him up quicker than her words. This was not their standard protocol.

The look in her eyes was unmistakable though.

"Kira," he started, and she shook her head sharply, still backing him up until his legs hit the back of the bed. He shut the door behind her with the force, cause clearly it was the last thing on her mind.

"Be quiet," she said lowly. "If you keep talking, you'll ruin everything. Again. Every time I think you'll finally get it through your stupid thick skull and stop holding back, I remember you're a masochist. You probably get off on it."

Her hands on his chest were warm. Her gaze were flicking everywhere along his chest, getting stuck somewhere near the curves of his clavicle before repeating the process again. She was biting her lip, and he had the strongest urge to replace it with his thumb. His hand rose unbidden, fingers ghosting along her throat, and she finally looked up at him.

He drew in a sharp breath at the way her pupils were blown wide with hunger. Fuck.

He wanted to fuck her. He'd wanted to all morning. He wanted to bend her over that brittle looking desk and ruin her.

Something must have showed in his face, because suddenly she was smiling, all teeth and ravenous and all the certainty in the world that he could try. He didn't doubt she would eat him alive if he let her.

This was happening too fast.

His hands retreated to her shoulders, pushing her back just a little. The growl she made in her throat made him lightheaded.

"Not that I care," he started hoarsely, watched her eyes flutter at the sound. "But I don't think this is what Vicrul meant when he said to fuck off."

Kira sneered. Her hands were tracing down his chest now, hovering over the band of his pants. It was impossible to hide how already painfully hard he was. "Yes he did, and the whole squad knew it. Hell, everyone on the Finalizer knew it before we'd even left." Her eyes flashed up to his, burning. "Everyone except you."

His jaw clenched. It wasn't like he hadn't known this was coming, and not just recently either. He'd known since he first stepped onto that Star Destroyer so many months ago and met those liquid star dust eyes across a cargo bay.

How could he not? They were both force wielding apprentices to the Knights of Ren, two celestial bodies gunning for the same crowning spot in a galactic orbit. It was inevitable that they would finally, spectacularly, collide.

Rather, he'd been hoping to put it off longer. She was distracting enough as it was.

He rolled his jaw. "I am not an idiot."

The contempt in her face was galling. "Could have fooled me."

His hands clenched her shoulders hard enough bruise. "I'm not going to fuck you," he thundered, watching her pupils spasm, her breath quicken, "just because other people expect it."

"And what if I want you too?" she shot back, and he went rigid. "How more direct do you need me to be?" And then she leaned up on her tip toes, her breath washing against his ear. "Don't tell me you're afraid, Ben."

Fuck.

He practically threw her onto the bed behind him, turning to tower over her. She was already scrambling back to make room, eyes wild and pupils blown as he dropped onto his knees and leaned over her, arms caging her on either side.

"You better not regret this, Kira", he hissed, saw the spasm of shock on her face, which quickly gave way to fury. Then she was reaching up to grip his hair painfully, rising to meet him.

"No," she hissed fiercely. "It's Rey."And then she dragged his mouth to hers.

Kissing Kira—Rey—was every bit as hot as he thought it would be and also nothing like what he expected. The slick slide of her tongue tracing his canines, the burn of her teeth, the way she arched into him and moaned as he finally forced his tongue into her mouth. Every pass of their lips was a battle, and every one of his victories was an equally undeniable surrender as she egged him on, fingers fisting in his hair.

His hands cupping her breasts through her shirt made her moan, breaking their contact as she arched back into the bed. She never wore a bra and it had been driving him insane. His thumbs rubbed against her nipples through the coarse fabric of her shirt, and she writhed beneath him, something close to a whine on her lips.

"Kylo," she said, breathy and stubborn and so very demanding, this insatiable scavenger, this darling little sand-rat, and then her hands were grabbing one of his, pushing them towards her hips, and he eagerly obliged even though it was an impossible angle. His blunt fingers dragged over her fine delicate skin, curving along the crease of her pelvic bones, questing to the warm, wet, heat of her.

He groaned into her neck. God, she was so wet. Two fingers slid into her as far as he could manage with her pants still on and he watched as she closed her eyes, shuddering, her mouth forming a perfect, silent oh.

God, she was so beautiful. So fuckable.

She squirmed under him, fingers digging sharply into his shoulders. "More," she demanded.

Kylo's focus narrowed to her. Just her. Every curve of her body, every reveal of flushed skin beneath her shifting clothes, every grind of her hips into the root of his hand. Power over her — over what he could do to her—was intoxicating. But it wasn't the taking of control that had his gaze fixed on the way she bucked into him at every brush of his thumb.

It was the way she opened her eyes and stared at him, teeth split feral as her hands grabbed to take ownership of him. She forced him to earn it. Not to take from her—but to convince her to let him.

He might not even get her clothes off her, at the rate they were going. He almost didn't care—his fingers tightened on her skin as she panted, writhing—no, that was lie, he definitely did. But he wanted to see her come, right now, from just his touch. And then he wanted to make her come on his cock.

"Rey," he breathed, and she stiffened, pupils blowing wide. She spasmed around his fingers, almost there but not quite. And then her own hands were scrabbling at his, trying to draw his hand away, trying to draw him up. He didn't budge.

"I want," she started, voice cracking. "I want you now."

"I know," he said gently into her ear, listening to her intake a shaky breath. "I'll give you what you want. But come for me first."

She growled, shaking her head, even as the pace of his hand quickened, even as her hips rose to match. "I don't—"

"Rey," he said, and she clamped down hard, her hips stuttered, her back bowing.

And then, like a good girl, she came for him.

He watched her, hungrily drinking her in. He was going to think of this moment every time he looked at her, from now to eternity. He was going to masturbate to this memory of her in his arms and it was going to ruin him of every other lurid fantasy he had concocted in his dreams.

And then when she came back down and looked up at him, sweat on her forehead as she smiled, he knew he was lost.

"Now," Rey said, glowing and slightly out of breath. "Now, I get what I want." And then she was pulling his hand from her pants and shoving him onto his back.

The bed, as he'd known it would be, was too small to afford easy rearrangement of one person, much less two. In the shuffle, her hand hit his bandaged shoulder and he hissed, drawing back on the bed. Rey paused, then pulled herself over his hips and sat up. Her disheveled hair, her red, bruised mouth, her pupils black as the dark sky outside. He would have gladly continued down that distraction and drawn her mouth to his if she hadn't paused, hand hovering over the blaster burn.

"Can't you heal that?" She said, fingers tracing the bandage. "Don't Jedi have healing powers?"

Kylo grit his teeth, even as his hands settled on her waist. "Not all Jedi can heal. I was never blessed with such a force gift." He couldn't keep the bitterness from creeping through.

Rey nodded. Her fingers came up to trace his scowl. Then her hips ground down on the hard edge of him, causing his brain to veer right back between his legs.

"All right," she began, all grating confidence that made him want to roll on top of her again. A roll of her hips quelled him. "I know you want to bend me over that desk over there, and we'll get to that. But first..."

She slid back, unbuttoning his pants. The first touch of her hand on his dick made him hiss, legs stretching rigid beneath him.

"Lovely," she told him, the appreciation in her voice overriding any embarrassment he might feel. As did the firm squeeze of her hand. He grunted, sex the only thing on his mind.

"Your pants," he said, and she nodded. She pushed up on to her knees, letting go of him for a moment to undo the clasps of her pants, and she was just pushing the fabric over one knee when he lost patience and rolled them over.

"Kylo!" She snapped, until she saw the look on his face. Then she laughed, letting his hands pull her one leg free from her pants. "Ben." Before she could say more, he gathered her thighs in his hands, half clothed and all, pushing her knees to her chest so she was completely exposed to him. And then he leaned forward, his body settling along hers, lips inches from her face.

Their eyes met, locked.

When he slid into her, they both moaned. And he swallowed hers with his mouth.

"So fucking perfect," he muttered, pulling back, and she mewled, clenching around him.

"Fuck," she said, biting her lip. Her fist hit his shoulder as he made a shallow experimental thrust. "Hey, I was going to be—"

His hips canted in to hers, and she cut off with a vulgar noise. He smirked. "You can be on top next time, sweetheart."

She huffed, leg muscles clenching beneath him and sending his eyes rolling to the back of his head. She was as stubborn as he was. "That wasn't the deal, bastard."

Fuck. "Rey," he groaned unthinking, burrowing his face in her neck.

She shivered, fluttering deliciously around him, and he paused at the reaction. Once, an accident, twice a coincidence, but three times? He drew back a little, and under his fascinated stare she flushed, squirming. "That—that is a dirty trick—"

"God, you are..." His hips picked up pace in earnest, earlier conversation forgotten, and despite herself she writhed. "You little—fuck, I want to—Rey."

She whimpered, mouth falling open. "Ben—"

"Rey."

It didn't take long for either of them.

And her coming around him was exactly as fucking perfect as he expected.

Vicrul was waiting for them at the docking bay, arms crossed.

"Well, look at you two, all bright eyed and bushy tailed," he sneered, as they approached. "Had a nice night? Was it the weather?"

Kylo grunted. Kira flipped him off. Vicrul chuckled, arms dropping to his sides.

"The target is five hundred kilometers east. We'll rendezvous with the 301st there. We're taking a speeder."

He pointed to what from Kylo's perspective looked like a rusted bucket of bolts idling beside the Night Buzzard. Kira, on the other hand, looked delighted. She zeroed in on the thing, inspecting the hull and muttering to herself as Kylo followed reluctantly behind her. When she hopped into the pilot seat with a pleased expression, Vicrul buckling in beside her, Kylo grunted and settled into the back as comfortably as he could, resigning himself to several hours of awkward silence.

Artoid Minor's landscape was as boring to look at as he expected, stretches of endless mud, swamp and trees that he didn't care to remember or know. He spent the majority of the trip staring at the back of Kira's head as she navigated them through the treacherous terrain with ease.

For it was Kira sitting up there—not Rey.

After several rounds of some of the most mind blowing sex of his life—and yes, they had nearly broken that brittle desk but seeing her bent over with his hands gripping her ass had been worth it—Kylo had stirred at the crack of dawn to find Rey sprawled over the majority of the bed, snoring softly into his rib cage, his hand tangled in her hair.

He'd allowed himself, in the pre-dawn hours, the indulgence of running his fingers through the smooth, soft strands. For his eyes to linger on those dewy, long lashes resting on her cheeks, her freckles like faint constellations yet unmapped, and that red, wicked mouth. Her atrociously loud snoring had lulled him into a drowsy meditative-like state, and he'd stared with half-lidded eyes at the mess they'd made of the room, wondering with no small amount of uncertainty, if things might be...different now.

He'd fallen asleep.

And when he'd woken, she was gone.

When Kylo had eventually left his room, he'd found Kira scarfing down breakfast at a dirty food stand across the street. She'd waved him over. She didn't avoid him, or flush with embarrassment, or worse, suddenly start clinging to him the way his (admittedly few) girlfriends back on Hosnien Prime had in the past.

But there was something. Maybe in the resumed distance between them, close but never quite touching, just as it had been before. A stark contrast compared to hours before, when she'd had him on his knees, his face buried between her legs.

Kylo's mouth flattened behind his mask as he squinted at the flashing scenery around him.

The truth was, it was probably for the best. They were both apprentices competing for the same position. One day, if they didn't die in the process of training, they would likely have to kill each other. It was part of the reason he had been initially so resistant to her advances.

Perhaps she had woken in the morning and come to her senses, realizing just how bad an idea them being even sexually together actually was, much less in some greater capacity.

Kylo stared broodingly at the loops of her three knots whipping wildly in the wind.

Maybe she'd still let him fuck her every once in awhile.

By the time they could spot the white flashes of an enclave nestled in the marshlands, and closer still a trooper dropship idling close under the trees, Kylo had worked himself into a foul mood. When Kira pulled the speeder to a quick stop beneath a massive tree, Kylo quickly exited the vehicle after Vicrul and sank five centimeters into thick, sour smelling mud. His mouth curled with disdain behind his mask.

Kira was peering at him curiously from the seat of the speeder. Without a word, he turned his back to her, heading for the squad of troopers, who all snapped to attention as Vicrul approached them.

Unlike their last raid, there was still significant terrain to cross before they reached the compound. There forces would have to take a few drop tanks, with troopers fully armed before hand, as close to the hot-zone as possible.

Unfortunately for Kylo, that was also how he found himself crammed into a small tank with twelve fully loaded storm troopers to his right and Kira sandwiched between his left and the wall of the opening ramp so that they'd be the first ones out.

She was looking quizzically at him in the darkness and he was trying his best to ignore her. It seemed like they hit every root or dip in the road, forcing him to catch himself on the wall and for her to press ever so briefly against the length of him before one or both of them pulled away. He clenched his jaw, staring over her head at the wall.

She had her nose buried in her cowl again, blinking up at him with long, dark lashes. Finally he caved, if only to get her to stop staring. "What?" He ground out.

Her brows furrowed. "I hate the mask."

Kylo stared at the wall, then slowly turned his head to her. His jaw ticked. "I'm aware."

"That's not what I meant," she said, irritation wrinkling her brow, "though yes, your mask is stupidly excessive…But I meant I never liked them. Especially on you. It's too hard to see what you're thinking—"

"And why should you know what I'm thinking, Rey?" he snapped, the name falling easily from his lips before he realized. He looked down quickly to find her staring at him, slack jawed and blinking.

And then—Rey flushed from her chest all the way up to her cheeks.

They stared at each other. He watched her expression flicker between acute embarrassment and indignance.

Then he reached up and wrenched his mask off, unable to keep the gloating smirk off his face, and her expression turned murderous and just shy of panicked.

"Kylo," she hissed in a whisper, eyes darting around to the others shuffling nearby, vitriol in every syllable and like music to his ears. "Put it back on." In the shadow of the truck, he turned his back to the rest of the stormtroopers, and touched a gloved hand to her jaw, uncaring of who saw. When the tank jerked over another pothole, sending everyone stumbling, he pressed a hand against the wall behind her, trapping her in a corner, and leaned in.

"But don't you want to see what I'm thinking?" He whispered, delighted when Rey's ears pinked. "…And I thought I was Ben now."

Rey was saved from responding when the tank lurched to a stop. There was the grind of gears, and then the ramp beside them began to descend. Rey pushed him back sharply, wrapping her cowl more tightly around her face to obscure her blush, and stormed out of the tank. He looked up at the ceiling, smirking for just a moment, before he pulled the mask back on his head and followed.

He nearly walked right into Rey, who had stopped dead at the bottom of the ramp. He had to catch himself on the bulwark of the tank or else he would have knocked her clean to the ground. Ignoring the impatient grunting of the storm troopers behind him, he looked down at Rey.

"Kira, what's the—" he stopped as he got a good look at her.

Her face was pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and blank. She was staring at something waving on the parapet of the enclave. His gaze ticked up, and then he too stilled.

A huge black flag hung from one of the bridges spanning between buildings. A red half circle like a sun, rising from a red scorched earth.

The Crimson Dawn.

The tanks that had been lined up before them had already unloaded, their soldiers marching forward to raid the base. Gun blaster fire echoed in the jungle. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Vicrul shout, "Advance. Take no prisoners."

One moment she was flush against him, the next she was gone—running at full speed across the marsh landscape, dodging in and out of blaster fire and men in skirmishes, pelting with singular purpose to one side of the building that was as yet untouched by combat.

Without thinking, he chased her.