Spite fic! Anonymous asked: so your headcanon is that Rey has armpit and leg hair but you have her be all smooth and silky in your sexy fics with Kylo. Hmmmm. ::insert hypocrites everywhere gif::
So I decided to write a micro fic in which my headcanon that Rey has body hair plays a very integral part! Let's throw in some bisexual!Ren into the mix, too, cause I can.
Rated M.
She is wild.
It is the only way he can describe her when they are together like this. She is open, she is honest, she hides nothing from him.
Kylo Ren has had encounters before, has shared these short intimacies with both men and women, and always they keep something from him. People, as people, hold something back.
But Rey, oh, Rey. She tells the truth. In every movement of her body, every hitch of her breath, she is laid bare.
This is how a body that knew only the love of a desert looks. These are the freckles that desert's sun gave me. These ribs that show through my back are the work of a hungry life.
He runs large hands over that honest body, eager to discover its every sincerity. His long fingers can circle her wrists and travel, without breaking that loose grip, all the way to her underarms—because she lived a life that couldn't spare an ounce of nourishment for something so luxurious as body fat, as anything more than the sparest of fibrous muscle. His fingers stroke the long silk of the hair she has there—because she had no one to tell her that the ways of a woman's body might not bend to the ways of a society built on more than starship salvage.
Even most men that Ren had known had removed that hair from their underarms for reasons that no one completely understood. Because they should. Because their body doesn't know the things that they know about the world.
But this was Rey's body. This was all that she had in the long hot of the desert, and who was she to think that, if it managed to keep living, it should look any different for the sake of vanity.
When she wraps those long, strong legs around him, also dusted with the softness of hair that never knew removal, never knew shame, he can feel his heart crumbling for this girl who doesn't know the way of people like he does.
She knows basest survival. She knows the worth of yourself, unto yourself.
He knows appearances. He knows machinations, politics, coercion. He knows the shame that would shutter him behind a mask so no one could see the vestiges of his father's strong features.
When she bows into him like this, welcoming his eyes on every part of her, he finds that pull for honesty. That truth that he is weary of denying the Light that seeks to take root in him. And if Rey is on the other side, then perhaps leaving the appearances, the mechanizations, the lies of the Dark behind is worth the surrender.
And as his body shudders into hers, she murmurs another truth across his skin.
This isn't you, Ben. Come back.
And he trusts her simple truth, as always.
End.
I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!