4/27-28/1

On Naboo, in Ulinada, summer nights are long. The planet warms because it's closer to its sun than it is in the winter, but on this part of the planet, night comes early and lasts long. Fifteen of the twenty-two hours in a day are full dark. Warm dark.

Playtime dark.

In Ulinada, as the sun sinks, the lights come out. Strings of tiny lights spread from building to building. They highlight the lines of roofs and doors. Spotlights stream up and out from the fountains. Gaslights, actual flames in glass cases, stand tall at each crossroad. Cafes and clubs open their doors, food, music, and people taking to the streets to enjoy a world lit by small, flickering flames. On the shores of both lakes, people burn bonfires, and go for late night swims and picnics on the beach.

It's into this, that Kylo and Rey prepare to go.

For the first time.

For him, getting dressed works about the same way it always does when he's putting Padme on. Though, enough of the ghosts of Rey's ink is still visible on his arm that instead of grabbing his usual v-neck shirt, he finds the one with buttons. He leaves the top two buttons unbuttoned, and rolls up his sleeves, showing off the marks on his forearm and hand.

She's smiling at that, enjoying watching him dress, as she gets her own clothing out, though she doesn't start to dress herself.

She's still sitting on the bed, watching him, having gotten no closer to dressed, and he's starting to wonder why. He flicks an eyebrow at her, as he pulls up his pants.

"You'll get distracted if you watch me."

He smiles at that. "I really hope so." He finishes with his pants and then pulls on his boots. She stands up, nodding at him, approving of this, and strokes his naked forearm. It's a little thing, and it's not like she's never seen his arms before, but there is something erotic and… intimate, though she guesses that's likely the wrong word. Everyone who sees them tonight will see him, but… This is the first time she's ever seen him get ready to step out in front of other people, not covered from neck to toes.

She pulls the bag to her and says, "Pink, blue, or green?"

His eyes light up at that, and he says, "Green."

She roots around in there for a moment, and pulls out a tidy little roll of something. It's wrapped in thin, crinkly paper, and as she unwraps it, he watches with interest.

A little, "oooo" sound slips out of him as she pulls a pair of… he doesn't know what they're called. Not shorts. They are very much not shorts. It's… two triangles… maybe… that just cover her delta and a little bit of her bum, and… Gods… He's already breathing hard and having a difficult time not unzipping his pants.

She's smiling wide and happy at him, and removes the second bit. It's a tube of fabric that goes around her bust, but… he doesn't know how it does it, but somehow it sort of… pushes them up and together a bit, and he swallows hard, because he really likes that. Really likes all of it, and…

And her grin is even wider. She stretches onto her tiptoes and gives him a quick kiss. He's about to pull her flush to him, grind into her, and then flop them both back down on the bed when she steps away, much too fast for his liking.

She grabs the green dress, and tosses it to him, turning her back on him. "Help me?"

He does, lowering the dress over her, saying, "You're killing me, you know that, right?"

"Poor Kylo Ren, Master of the Order, most powerful dark Maji in the galaxy, murdered by sexy underwear."

He laughs at that, rubbing against her. "Of all the ways to go…"

She leans back, brushing her rear against his front. "That doesn't feel dead to me."

He groans, running his hand through his hair, and then grips her hips, pulling her flush to him, fast, and grinds, hard, into her. He bites gently on her shoulder and says, "I'd have to be dead not to react to this."

She wiggles against him again, and he groans once more. He bites a little harder on her shoulder, and places his hand in the center of her back, gently pressing her down toward the bed. His touch is light, getting across where he wants her, but completely aware that this sort of position can be tricky for her.

Today it's not, she's happy to lean her weight onto her hands, and look over her shoulder at him. She winks at him and wiggles again.

He stares at her, eyes hot, fingers tracing down her back, luxuriating in the heat of her skin under the softness of that fabric, and makes sure she watches as he pops the button on his trousers, and undoes the zip, slow, steady, eyes never wavering from hers as he pulls himself out. Then he flips her dress up, gives those… "What are these called?" he asks as his fingers trail over the satiny green fabric. And his eyes lap up the way it hugs her butt and delta.

He's never, ever wanted to be a piece of fabric so much in his life.

"Panties."

He nods, hooks his finger in the hem of them, letting his knuckle brush over her maomao, and then yanks them down.

Rey standing there, leaning into her hands against the bed, panties around her knees, dress up on her low back, looking back at him, makes him throb.

The ghost of kiss and nip are still on her skin, so he does exactly that, before standing up, getting a solid grip on his shaft, positioning himself, and sliding into her in a long, shivery, rush.

She arches back to meet him, and this time, there's nothing slow. Fast, hard, deep, his hands curling into her hips, pulling her back onto him, her back arched, her body taking him to the root. He can feel the tingles starting in less than a minute, and forces himself to slow down, just a little, a few strokes slower, deeper, grinding his pelvis into hers, waiting a few breaths for her to catch up to him, and as soon as she does, he's moving fast and hard again, watching their bodies sliding together, her pink glistening against his, until she clenches against him, his vision grays out around the edges, and his body tightens, spasms, spurting hard into her.

On their second attempt at getting out of the hotel, Kylo's in new trousers. (He didn't quite push them far enough down before, and they're in need of some washing.) And Rey, having gotten dressed a little faster this time, (now in the pink undies) managed to get into her clothing without getting him out of his.

For all her musing about Kylo stepping out not covered from his chin down, it's Rey who feels a bit nervous about to step out of a door in nothing but a little dress.

Finn and Rose's wedding didn't trigger this sensation, but maybe that was because she knew everyone there. Or maybe it was because she had a good, strong pair of stompy boots and knew that if need be, she could kick a bugger into next week.

But today, she's in a light, floaty green dress, the kind of fabric that moves with her every time she steps, the hem dancing against her thighs with each step, each breeze, and light little sandals, that look nice, and keep her from being barefoot, but offer no real strength or protection.

Plus, this time, she's leaving her staff behind, too.

Or it could be, when she was at Finn and Rose's wedding she was wearing a borrowed dress. It was basically a costume for a nice night. But this clothing is hers and it's a sign that things about her are starting to change.

For example, maybe she is the kind of person who puts on nice clothing, and goes out to dinner, and dancing, with her husband.

And maybe, just maybe, the feel of whisper-y fabric, and her hair soft and loose, both of them fluttering about with every warm breeze, and his hand on her back as they head out into a fire-lit night, neither of them carrying a weapon, is the kind of thing she might like.

Food is easy to find, and for some reason they're feeling more than a bit hungry. They wander, following their noses, and locate a street where every third building is selling something to eat.

The popular local treat appears to be some sort of sausage cooked over an open flame, chopped up fine, and mixed with bright sweet-sour vegetables, all wrapped up in a flatbread.

They get four of them, different types of sausages and vegetables, and share them.

Rey's looking at the one he's more or less inhaling, which is fine with her because she doesn't much like it (She doesn't know what a torble is, but would prefer they never end up in her food again.), and says, "Two years ago, I never had enough food to even think of turning something down because it didn't taste good."

He looks at the sausage wrap in his hand. "Two years ago, I didn't eat anything I didn't personally take out of the package myself, because it might be poisoned."

They share a look, neither of them sure what to do with that. Eventually, he takes a bit of one of the sausages they haven't tried, and offers it to her, holding it between his fingers.

She's about to take it, see how it is, and then an idea hits. Instead of taking it with her fingers, she leans toward him and nibbles it from his hand, kissing his fingers.

Out here, in the dim of fire-lit night, they're just a couple sitting at a table on a patio in front of a café. There are probably ten other couples just like them, at least, just to look at them, within twenty meters. No one looks, or stares, as he offers her another bite, and she kisses his palm, leaning in against him.

Two years changes a lot, and they're both wondering where two more years will find them.

Food was easy to find… Music and dancing… Less easy.

A map, or datapad, or… maybe, asking someone for directions likely would have helped, but part of the fun of this is just wandering, going where they feel pulled. And since both of them are feeling like they're supposed to be going to the same place, it's easy enough to go with it.

And eventually, they hear music. Loud thumping, heavy beat, dancing music.

His arm is around her shoulders, and she squeezes his hand as they draw closer to it.

The only reason it's not the seediest place either of them have ever been is because he's been sent to plenty of seedy places over his years with Snoke and seedy was what the best place in Niima Outpost aspired to be.

It's a dive bar on the far bank of the lake. It's fairly clean, ish… as long as the lights are low, which they are. No one gives either of them a second look when they enter, though his order of one rum and strawberry nectar (something he knows will taste good) for the two of them does get a raised eyebrow. It's mostly strawberry juice with a splash of rum, and costs probably three times more than it should, but that bothers neither of them.

She's a lightweight by the nature of her size, and he is by the nature of not building up any tolerance. By the second one, they're both feeling gloriously toasted.

They do hover for a few moments, finishing the drink, staring at the dance area. People are bouncing around, flailing about in concert with the beat. They certainly look like they're having a good time.

And Rey can feel her body responding to it. Her hips just start a little bounce to go with the beat pounding through the bar, pounding through them.

And Kylo's not much of a dancer by nature, his body doesn't feel any particular urge to move around because there's loud music thrumming through the air, but it does feel an urge to follow Rey as she slides her way into the crowd, bouncing around, enjoying the beat.

This is not how he learned to dance. Granted, he didn't so much learn as he danced with his mom and dad at Lando' wedding a few times. And once Luke let them have a dance at his academy, but he rapidly came to the conclusion that letting a bunch of horny adolescents who were trying to banish their passions dance with each other was a splendidly stupid idea. Kylo thinks it lasted half an hour before Luke shut it down muttering about how he wasn't cut out for this.

Dancing with his parents is actually one of his better memories. He was seven, so big enough that for some of the dances, he'd stand in front of Leia, put his hand on her back, take her hand in his, and she showed him the steps. And he was little enough that for some of them, Han picked him up, and both of them held him as they danced with each other.

He guesses that was the best few days they ever had together. Four days, all together, in Cloud City. Chewie was there; he brought his wife, even. (Though he had the sense that after so many years apart they didn't much like each other.) Lando was having a blast, showing off his home and his bride and the life he was building, both of them so pleased with each other and the future.

Luke didn't come. He was working hard on the Jedi school, and sent his regrets. Kylo could feel the other adults had mixed feelings about that. A sense that they liked having Luke around, but that, especially since he got really serious about the Jedi stuff, he tended to put a damper on parties. So, they missed him, but didn't exactly mind that he'd bowed out.

This, however, is nothing like either of his previous dancing experiences. (Though, had Luke not stormed in and turned the music off while he and the rest of the Padawans were still getting over their jitters and just starting to move toward each other, it's fairly likely the Jedi school one would have gotten here.)

This is hot and fast and everyone is close and bouncing around and touching, so much touching, all over touching, and Rey's pulling him into it, though it's not exactly taking a lot of coaxing to get him to go because he's all in favor of situations where he gets to rub up against her as much as he likes.

And apparently, rub up against your partner to the beat is the name of the game here.

And he's ready to play.

She's got her hand around his wrist, leading him into the fray feeling… Just… good. More than good. Feeling like firelight flickering against water, reflected and shimmering.

Light and gold and bright and warm.

It's hot in here, and she's glad for the dress. She'd been a little shy about stepping out of their hotel room in it, a little shy about anyone but him seeing her like this, but right now, he's looking at her like she's the flame that'll pull him through the night, like she's the glow that gives him life…

Like he really fucking wants to dance.

She grins up at him, backing into the crowd, knowing he's got her back, and lets the music take over.

Kylo cannot follow the beat to save his life. He is perpetually landing a second or so off the rhythm of the music, and by the time he's got each new song down, they switch to another one.

And he knows why. Same damn reason he ended up a huge bruise the first few times he went up against his training droids. The music is from a stereo system. If there were a band, if someone were playing it, he'd have no trouble because he could hook into their feel of how the music should work.

But this is just canned sound coming from a machine.

He could probably follow the crowd, but... actually they're part of the problem. If it were just him and Rey, he'd be fine. Hell, if it were just him and Rey and maybe… oh… eight Praetorian guards, he'd still be fine, but there's at least fifty people here, plus everyone at the bar, and that's just too many different minds all hearing the music slightly differently, all reacting slightly differently, and it's just too much.

She pulls his hand into hers, instead of the two of them just brushing against each other as they bounce out of synch against one another. (Though, honestly, he's not minding that, either. The drag of her body, fast and close against his is nice.) There's the sweet spot. He can read the beat off of her, and maybe they aren't still perfectly in synch with the music, he's at least in synch with how she's hearing it, so that's something.

Okay, yes, he said he was a bad dancer when they were at the beach during Finn and Rose's wedding. And she said he wouldn't be with her. Because, well… that's the kind of thing you're supposed to say, and well… there wasn't any music and they were going slow… it worked.

But… Kylo's a bad dancer.

She doesn't know how he can be a bad dancer. The man fights like he was born for it. He moves like… actually… As she's thinking about it he's not all that graceful when he moves. There's power in how he moves, tons of it, and he's really good with his lightsaber. He can whirl that baby around until the end of time.

But, actually, his fighting style is wild and overpowering, and not all that graceful.

He fights like the Falcon flies, hard and fast and dangerous, wild, but the wildness of someone who's already run the odds in his head, and decided to throw the dice anyway. But the only elegance is the elegance of something extremely dangerous moving very fast.

After the second song of him going zig when she goes zag, she takes his hand in hers, and suddenly, things get a lot better.

And suddenly, she knows what part of the problem is, he's got way too many minds all thrumming along, close and loud, and it's clouding his focus.

He doesn't exactly know what to do with his hands. Hips and knees and feet are okay. They bend and bounce around with the beat. Shoulders and hands… Okay, one of them has to stay on Rey, or he falls out of beat with her. The other one… Hanging limply at his side doesn't feel right, but flailing it around like the rest of the party seems off, too.

An insult to his dignity or something.

Wrapping it around her waist is good. He likes it there. She likes it there.

The song shifts, gets a bit slower, a little deeper. She moves closer to him, his leg between hers, hers between his, and he finds that his hand on her thigh, fingers just an inch below the hem of her dress bare skin to bare skin works just fine for both of them.

The third drink, and he's suspicious this one may have had a tad more than a splash of rum in it, split between them, takes care of any concerns of where his hands may be going. As well as any concerns about following the beat.

He's dancing with her, and that's all the following he needs to do.

She's flushed pink. Dancing, alcohol, good time, all of combining to make her skin rosy. Her head is back, hair wild from moving fast, and she's laughing. He's got both of his hands around her waist, his hips flush to hers, and is looking down at her.

He'll remember this moment for the rest of his life.

He undid a button of his shirt because it's hot and they're dancing hard.

She undoes another one because… well, she could.

Neither of them knows which of them did the third.

Or the fourth.

And by that point his shirt is pretty much open, so he might as well just untuck it and undo the fifth.

And her hands are on his chest, and his are on her hips, and maybe this isn't a dance so much as making love… well… fucking, standing up, dressed, but it's fun, and it's not like they're the only one's doing it.

They're back to front, and he's right up against her. Rey likes that just fine.

Then it gets better. It's that little roll he does with his hips. It shouldn't be fucking legal. She knows exactly how that feels when he's not wearing pants and she's not wearing a skirt and that little roll followed by a longer, deeper thrust and… And he's got his hand almost, just on her delta. It's low on her belly, teasing her with where it could be, and his other hand is tracing down the inside of her arm, to just, lightly brush against the side of her breast and…

She tilts her head back, moaning, softly, as she licks her lips.

He spins her around, strokes her face, and her lips seek his finger. She sucks it for a moment, before sliding her teeth over it, and he groans, loud, grinding against her, his thigh between her legs, and his pelvis against her hip, and really, they need to get out of this fucking bar and back to their hotel, probably ten minutes ago.

He's feeling a little self-conscious leaving the press of dancing bodies. There, in the melee of soft touch, he was more or less covered. Out here, leaving, there's nothing blocking anyone's view of his body, which is standing tall and proud, happily leading the way, hoping to get somewhere private, and into Rey, as fast as it can.

Though, as he looks around a bit, he does notice he's not the only man leaving the place in this state.

And that actually, helps.

Rey giving him a gentle squeeze along with, "Let's put that to good use," banishes what's left of any self-consciousness.

After all, he is standing proud for a reason, so… it's appropriate.

Though he thinks it's possible that the amount of rum drinks in his system might have something to do with why he thinks this is appropriate.

They're lost. Every bloody street in this bloody town looks like every other street in this bloody town and the last thing either of them wants to do is wait another second, almost running down another street, not finding their hotel on it.

Rey sees the alley, and catches his eye. His desire sparks hot at the idea. He's already ridiculously turned on from dancing and being out with her and… In public, where they could get caught… Okay, no not them, but… the idea of it is still burning through his mind.

He raises an eyebrow Sure?

She nods at him, pulling him into it. They've made it into a less seedy part of town, so it's clean enough, and there's no lights, so it's not exactly easy to see into, but as he's pulling her to him, he casts his do not look, and she bumps it, adding her own layer of the Force to it.

As long as they don't make too much noise, they shouldn't attract much attention.

He pulls her hips to his, grinding against her, and she's on her tiptoes, sucking his tongue like it's the best candy ever, and the loud rip of her panties in his hands more or less kills any intentions he may have had of being quiet, but her answering flare of arousal shatters any concern he might have had about doing it.

The feel of silk shredding between his fingers, and her skin hot and wet against them has him leaking, and she's undoing his trousers, pushing them down around his hips, and he's pulling her up, into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips, and a long slide and…

Both of them groan, loud.

She bites his shoulder, muffling the sound a little.

He'd back her against the wall, but her dress doesn't cover that much of her and the wall looks rough, so that's not happening. There's only so fast and deep they can go like this, but he's remembering the way she was watching that little roll of his hips, remembering how it felt, and he can do that right here, right now, all fucking night long if she likes.

And she does. He feels the vibration of her moan though his shoulder. He turns his face to hers, kissing her cheek and ear, and she gets the message, meeting his lips with hers.

Her legs tighten on his hips, and she adds her own little roll, coaxing a groan out of him.

They may be doing an okay job on invisible, but they're doing a piss-poor job of silent.

But it's too… everything… to stay quiet. Too good, too now, too intense, too… Feelings like this weren't meant to be kept inside, shuttered behind still lips and tight jaws.

He can't see them, but he can feel his words on her skin, and her pictures on his, and he's murmuring it to her with each roll of their hips, "Love you, love you, love you…" And her head's back, mouth open, soft, gasping pants punctuating his mantra.

His hands squeeze under her thighs, lifting her higher, getting more friction, making both of them louder.

"They've got to be around here somewhere!" freezes both of them dead and silent. There's a constable, or something like that, searching up and down the street. He doesn't look into the alley, their spell holds, but he's muttering about stupid fucking kids making a racket.

Both of them breaking into a completely different set of vibrations, body shaking, silent giggles adds another layer of delight of the embrace of her body around his.

When they stop laughing, they share a look, he's asking if she wants to stop, and she rolls her hips against him again, a very clear no.

He smiles at her, very happy with that response, and kisses her deep and wet, rocking his hips back against hers, building their fire up again.

This time he's thinking it, letting it burst out of him in feelings, if not words, Love you, love you, love you…

She's rocking back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, hands in his hair, eyes on his, Love you, Kylo, love you.

He stiffens at it, his hips snapping, faster, harder, taking them higher. Maybe there will be a point where her using his name won't get to him, but right now… every time she does, especially in moments like now, where she makes it clear she's chosen him… It just thrills him.

She leans back, taking him deeper, taking them higher, again and again…

Their rhythm goes choppy, staccato, deeper, faster, seeking release.

There… right… there… It's a hard, shuddering thrust, and a deep grind of pelvis to pelvis, and they're both gone, tingling from head to toes, shaking with the force of it.

She clings, limp and breathing hard, against him for a few moments. He's panting, breath and heart slowing down, head against her shoulder.

When he puts her down, they realize that ripped panties don't exactly go far when it comes to cleaning up, and there's not a towel for… kilometers. At least not one they can get.

He takes his shirt the rest of the way off, and hands it to her, figuring their do not look will extend to him wandering around without a shirt.

She giggles at it, takes the ruined panties off, tidies herself up, and tucks as much of the shirt as will fit into his back pocket.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and they start back to their hotel, a much slower, more relaxed pace, this time.

As they're ambling along, she takes his right hand in hers, and kisses his palm. "I like this."

"Walking around with me half-naked and covered in your marks?"

"Yes."

He grins at her, feeling just wonderfully wicked and playful. "Walking around half-naked and covered in my…" he licks his lips, looks her up and down, and she feels the word he's thinking, it's a naughty one, and it's not the one he says, "mark?"

She bops him with her hip, and snuggles her head against his shoulder. "Yes."

He slips his arm around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head. "Good."

Everyone loves a good bit of gossip, and Naboo is no exception to that rule. The cheap, flimsy scandal sheet that claims to have pictures of the Master of the Order dancing in a bar with some floozy sells like mad for a few days.

And, the pictures… sort of… maybe… kind of look like him. Someone was getting pictures of himself and his date, and caught the "Master" in the back of his photos, and sold the video to the scandal sheet. It's definitely a large man with black hair, dark eyes, and a scar across his face. The focus is blurry, and the clothing is utterly un-commanding, and the body art is… peculiar, plus the expression on his face couldn't be less Master Ren if he tried and… It's a cheap, shitty bar with bad drinks and lame music, and... He's a kind of spastic dancer.

Which, for the people who think it is Master Ren, just makes the story all the better. But, most of the readers just think it's a couple in love, with a somewhat goofy, probably drunk, guy trying to impress his date with some tragically bad dance moves.

Notes:

So, if there was ever a chapter where you wanted to see the version with pictures, this is the one. Googling Keryl Raist Rumors/Gossip will get you to the AO3 version of this, which doesn't just have artwork, but it's also got a link to the gifs of Adam Driver dancing which are more than worth their weight in gold.

Happy Sunday, loves!