All you heard for a few long seconds was the sound of your own breathing.
It was quiet at first, but it quickly grew rapid, cutting through the silence in the room. Tears stung your eyes, sniffling a few times.
You reached out, fingers grasping the bear. It was soft—comforting.
"I'm sorry," you said, voice barely a whisper. It had cracked on the third syllable, and you wondered if he had heard you at all; part of you hoped he hadn't. But the bed stirred above you, and slowly—hesitantly—you noticed him peering down at you. His brows seemed to be furrowed together.
You squeezed your eyes shut and clutched the bear to your chest, a single tear sliding down the side of your face.
"What?" he spoke finally, voice softer than usual yet not quite a whisper. He sounded almost eager for something, his voice tinged with a slight breathlessness.
"I'm sorry," you choked, tears threatening to stream down your face as you held your eyes shut. "You're human." Somehow.
He had pushed himself up, his hands now playing with the chains.
"Will you promise not to hurt yourself?" he asked, voice gentle and coaxing.
You paused long enough to sniffle again, flinching slightly at the words. "Tonight," you qualified your answer, hoping it was enough.
He sighed, but gave a wave of his hand just the same. Your restraints fell away, and he moved to set his feet down on the ground.
"Do you want to share my bed tonight?" he murmured, same comforting overtone in his voice.
You wiped your tears, cold and alone on the floor. "Yes, Master," you choked slightly, sounding a little sincerer than you would've liked. You sound pathetic.
But he didn't seem to think so; you saw a small smile play at his lips, and he lifted you up onto his lap, where he held you to his chest. He paused for a few moments, one hand underneath your knees, the other reaching up to run his fingers through your hair. You stared down at the bear that in turn rested in your lap.
"What should I name him?" you asked quietly; the question tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it.
The man paused, pulling back slightly. "Him?" he asked, eyes searching your face. A hint of amusement crossed his features as his eyes travelled down to the bear.
"I think it's a him," you murmured, stroking the fur on the top of the bears head.
He made a small sound of acknowledgement above you, one hand rubbing up your back. "Mhm," he thought, breathing in deeply. The hand supporting your knees opened, as if in an I-don't-know gesture. "Bear?" he suggested incredulously.
A giggle forced its way out of you. "Bear," you repeated softly.
Your eyes met his, and you shared a smile. He looked so relaxed—he looked human like this. But it wouldn't last; you knew it wouldn't. In the morning he would dress, and tie you up here, and leave to kill people. That's what he does.
His smile faded in time with yours. You looked away, shoving down another wave of tears. He cleared his throat, as though bitter he had let his guard down, however brief. A quiet moment passed, and he shifted back on the bed to set you down. He laid out himself, and moved to turn away.
"You still haven't explained this to me," you murmured, picking words carefully.
He rolled back to face you, raising an eyebrow, his eyes betraying a dangerous a look.
"I don't have to explain anything to you."
You forced yourself to swallow, fingertips brushing the bear. "How am I supposed to be good for you if I don't know what it is that you want from me?"
You had shoved as much innocence in the words as you could manage, and it showed on his face; he froze, staring down at the sheets for a moment.
"I don't know what you're asking," he murmured, refusing to look at you.
You looked away, too, turning your head to stare at the blaster door.
"You're not going to kill me, are you?" You said it like a statement.
A pause was all that met you.
"I have no plans to do that," he said, something new in his voice this time—nervousness, perhaps. Anxiety.
A tear rolled down your cheek. You know it was true, then; he wanted to feel companionship. He wanted someone in his rooms, wanted someone to come home to. There was no getting out of this—no easy death, and certainly no escape. He wanted you to be his.
You stared into the distance in silence for a long time. After a few minutes, you heard a slight rustle behind you; he had set his head on the pillow, still facing you. You felt his eyes on the back of your head for a while, but soon the feeling faded. Turning your head slowly, you peered over at him. He had his eyes closed, but you were sure he wasn't yet asleep.
You sighed, taking to staring at the ceiling instead.
"What did the other parent do?" you asked suddenly, turning the bear over in your hands.
His eyes opened, considering you for a moment. "What?" he asked, genuine confusion in his voice.
"You said one of your parents was a pilot. What did your other parent do?"
You turned your head to look at him now, eyes meeting. His betrayed nothing as he took a breath, taking a moment to think over your question. You weren't quite sure he would answer it.
"The other parent," he started, seeming to choose his words carefully such that he didn't betray whether it was his mother or his father, "was a politician." He looked down at his hands now, and you would've sworn you saw a flash of bitterness—maybe sadness—before he killed it.
"A politician? On Chandrila?" you asked, suddenly realizing what he was saying. "Isn't that where the Republic capital once was? Do you mean they were in the Senate?"
He paused, seemingly displeased you knew as much. "Mhm," he murmured in acknowledgement, still refusing to meet your eyes.
You stared at the ceiling again, thinking this new information over in your mind. A politician; his family had been wealthy and had status. Political influence. They were educated. You wondered vaguely what had happened to him.
"Are they still alive?" you asked hesitantly, hoping he wouldn't become angry.
He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. He, too, rolled onto his back. "Yes. I think so," he answered.
"I'm sure they miss you very much," you murmured, voice little more than a whisper. You knew this was dangerous.
But he only chuckled—bitterly. "No," he said firmly, a new kind of resolve in his voice. "They don't."
"Is that what you tell yourself so you don't feel guilty about this?" you asked, hands gesturing around the room—to the First Order in general. It had just slipped out, as things seemed to do when you felt strongly.
You had expected it, but he moved faster than you could stop him, large forearms holding your wrists down on either side as he moved above you.
"No," he spat, "I know it because they sent me away." Fury rose in his voice and covered his face, which was red and angry now. His chest rose and fell in anger, and you forced yourself to swallow. There was something else there, too—in his eyes. Hurt.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears filling your eyes again. "I know what that feels like," you whimpered after a moment.
He froze above you, eyes searching your face for something. You weren't sure if he had found it when he leaned down over you, lips brushing your ear. But he said nothing—instead, his lips pressed to your neck.
A small moan slipped out of your lips as he pressed a kiss to your artery. His lips seemed to smirk against your skin before they pressed lighter kisses down your neck.
"Do you like this?" he moaned into your ear a moment later. His voice was already thick with an edge of seduction—it shot straight to your clit, and he seemed to know it; he dipped his hips slightly, brushing against your thigh so you could feel him hardening.
Your breath hitched, and he smiled.
"You like this," he answered for you, mouth returning to your neck. He sucked hard on a patch of skin, tongue running over it as you made a small sound of feigned protest. "That's going to show tomorrow," he teased softly when he pulled away.
You squirmed under him, and he smirked.
"So needy," he murmured, still pinning your wrists down at your sides. Your clit burned for touch, and he seemed to sense it, too; his eyes drifted down between you, and he swallowed. "Do you need me to touch you?" It sounded patronizing, 'need'.
You refused to answer, pressing your lips together, little beads of frustration forming in your eyes.
He brushed his growing erection over you again, pressing harder against your leg.
"Is that what you want, little girl?" he whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe once. "I know it's what you need."
You shivered once, and he smiled again, brushing his lips over your cheek.
"Tell me," he insisted. "Say it."
Forcing yourself to swallow, you shook your head.
"Don't be scared, say it," he coaxed, pressing his lips lightly to yours before pulling back just as quickly. "Do you want me to rub your clit?"
You held his gaze for a moment before looking away, nodding your head slightly.
"Mhm mhm," he vocalized as his thumbs began rubbing your nipples, which hardened under his touch. "You know you have to say it."
You squirmed in frustration, and he his hands gripped yours again. The loss of touch made you groan, and he waited patiently above you.
"Please, sir" you whispered, not wanting to say it twice, "please touch my clit."
He moaned his approval, grasping your knees and spreading your legs. He moved between them, and one hand dipped between your legs. He teased you for a second, his fingertips hovering just over your pussy, closing the gap a moment later and rubbing firm circles on your clit.
You cursed yourself as your hips bucked up into his hand; he smirked before swatting your cunt lightly.
"I'm in charge here," he murmured, a mocking dangerousness to his voice. His hand returned a moment later, thumb rubbing your clit while the rest of his fingers drifted down. One teased your entrance, his eyes watching yours.
You realized he was waiting for something after a moment, and you sighed heavily in frustration, glaring at the ceiling. "Please," you whispered painfully.
"Please what?" he asked, hand between your leg pausing. "Do you want a finger inside you?"
Your brows knit together, and you nodded desperately. "Yes," you breathed, "please."
He resumed rubbing your clit, sliding his middle finger inside you. Unlike yours, his digits were long and thick, and you whimpered softly at the intrusion. It felt good, being rubbed like this, your walls immediately gripping his finger.
"So fucking needy," he murmured, leaning back to look between your legs.
You blushed.
"And so fucking pretty," he added, as though reading your thoughts. You were about to tell him to get out of your head when he leaned down, sealing your mouth with his. He worked his finger in and out of you faster, sliding his tongue between your lips. You opened slightly, too desperate for touch to refuse; he claimed your mouth, tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth. It felt like he was penetrating you twice, and he moaned at the thought.
A second finger pressed into you, sliding easily into your wetness.
"Are you going to be a good little girl and take my cock?" he asked, breathing heavily as he worked the two fingers in and out, picking up speed and rubbing your cunt more desperately.
Your eyes rolled back a little, and you nodded quickly.
He was too distracted now to argue for verbal responses, his mouth kissing up your neck to your ear.
"You're going to take my cock? Get me off, let me shoot my load in your tight little pussy?"
You moaned and nodded, grinding against his hand in desperation. But then it was gone, and he was smiling.
"Beg," he commanded, leaning over you. He had pulled his shorts down; in your periphery, you saw quick flicks of his wrist—he was stroking his cock.
Embarrassment spread over your features, and he shook his head.
"Don't over-think," he said breathily, working his cock harder. "You belong here, with me. You belong to me. Nothing you say should embarrass you."
"Please," you whimpered, pushing your hips up. Stop it. "Please." Don't say this. "Please, I need you." The voice in your head screamed at you, but you squashed it, body too desperate to listen to reason.
He stopped, the tip of his cock pressing low between your lips before you had finished the words. "Perfect little slut," he groaned approvingly. He stretched out over your body, pulling your knees up around his waist, settling his lips by your ear. Then he snapped his hips up, and your need was replaced with something warm and thick.
"Fuck," he hissed, hands fisting in your hair. "Fuck, you're tight."
Your walls gripped around him, and he pushed the rest of his length in slowly, teasing your nerve endings.
"But you won't be when I'm done with you," he growled once he had buried himself, pulling out just as slowly before shoving back in.
Another moan escaped your lips as your body jerked up and against his, his hands dropping to grip your shoulders. He pulled you up and against him in time with his thrusts, which quickly picked up.
"Fuck, little girl, you're taking my cock so well." He started pounding into you, seemingly just as desperate as you'd been. "Are you going to make me cum in your tight little pussy?" he panted in your ear.
Your walls tightened around his cock at the lewdness of his words, making you squirm under him.
"Shit, I think you are," he growled, pelvis angling up into yours with every thrust. His sweat mingled with yours as your chests met, all of his energy directed on pounding between your legs.
"Are you ready to be my cumslut?" he whispered in your ear, voice tinged with desperation. He was close.
"I want to be your cumslut," you repeated, voice just as desperate, pulsing around his length.
He grunted and shoved himself as far as he could go; he collapsed on you, cock twitching, warmth pooling deep inside you. You did your best to milk his cock, a free hand daring to run up his back. Warm skin rubbed against yours, rippling slightly here and there with his musculature. Closing your eyes, you imagined you could draw him close—that he wasn't actually your captor, but a friend.
When he finally pulled out, he seemed to do so with regret.
"Go use the refresher," he said simply. He rolled over onto his back, eyes closed.
Pushing yourself up on shaky legs, you made your way to the refresher. The soreness between your legs turned to throbbing as you peed, then wiped his cum from between your legs. You ran warm water and wet a hand towel, using it to clean yourself before returning to bed.
You tiptoed back into the room, hearing shallow breathing coming from the bed. You tried to climb in delicately, but a large hand closed around your wrist and tugged you so your back was against a broad chest. Arms wrapped around you; soon your head was nuzzled into a neck. Soft breathing came from above you, becoming more peaceful with every breath.
A mass-murderer was cuddling you to sleep.