AN
So hoping this doesn't come out as the ramblings of a sleep deprived slow-burn torturer who just wanted something a little fluffy. It will.. #sorrynotsorry
Regretfully yours,
- M
He watched her untangle herself from his grasp, her hands pushing back his now soaked hair from his face, avoiding the open burned gash. Waves of dark hair were plastered to her cheeks and her bare shoulders, her hand delicately traced along the uninjured side of his face before she reached behind him to turn the water off. He could feel the burning pain as the extent of his injuries began to demand that they be felt. He knew she could see his resistance weakening; he stood up straight and moved past her staggering slightly as he reached the doorway. He reached a hand out, holding the frame for a moment, resisting the strange urge to look back at the pale eyed girl with the gentle hands who stood soaking wet in his shower. "Call Medical" he muttered without glancing back.
It had been hours since the medical officer and assistant had breezed past Neera for the second time, looking worse for the wear. Even in such disrepair, Kylo Ren was an intimidating and formidable force, and he was a terrible patient. She could feel the intense concentration it took to keep himself from actively resisting the doctors. It took all of her restraint to keep from chastising him when he nearly ripped off the hand of the assistant when he tried to spread a cell regenerative ointment across his face. She reached one hand up, her hair was almost dry, and her clothes were still quite damp and uncomfortably so as she sat in the chair opposite the mask drifting in and out of a very restless sleep, her cloak draped across her as a blanket.
"It's insufferable…" She perked slightly at the sound of his voice coming from the now open door. She glanced up and saw Kylo Ren sitting at the side of the large bed the side of his face and shoulder covered by thin white bandages, one hand wrapped around his bandaged side. "Listening to you toss around in that chair." She frowned at him, hurling the expression like an insult, too tired to respond. She did, however, understand him well enough to know that his insult was an invitation of sorts. She stood, walking tiredly into his room and sitting down on the end of the bed. She felt the weight of his body lift off of the mattress as he walked around to stand before her.
"Take off your clothes" She was unable to control the startled look she shot him. He watched a pale blush spread under her skin as her eyes went wide in shock then narrowed. When she finally examined his expression she caught the self-satisfied smirk and deepened her frown. "That can't be comfortable." He said walking away, disappearing into the bathroom, the door sliding closed behind him. She watched him go, disapproving of his rude coping mechanisms but curiously pleased with the somewhat thoughtful intention.
She slid out of her pants, kicking the damp article across the room. She stood and crossed the room, pulling open drawers and searching out dry clothing. As she pulled a dark tunic undershirt from the top drawer, images entered her mind, familiar at first then, decidedly more unique.
Hands skimming across soaked fabric – dark waves against pale skin, a single lock curled just at the corner of a pair of full soft lips – fingers knotting and wringing at the back of her shirt – A pair of hands gripped her waist and spun her around, one hand splayed against her abdomen, sliding up under the wet fabric—Her head leaned back as another hand reached across her chest to her neck, teeth grazed her jawline and her breath hitched at the sounds of her name on his lips.
She gripped the edge of the dresser, unsure of exactly how much air was left in her lungs. "Unbelievable." She thought to herself, all at once confused, annoyed, and less than displeased at the intrusion into her thoughts. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath deciding on what if any response as she thought she sensed the door about to open behind her.
He walked through the door and was met by a pair of bare legs, fabric being pulled up over dark curls revealing the curve of her back, an expanse of smooth pale skin. He watched her hip hitch as she pulled the new shirt down and tugged it down to the top of her thighs. She turned and crossed the room and lay down on the bed as if collapsing in slow motion. He paused for a moment unsure if the act was intentional or coincidental and decided it wasn't important as he watched her turn her back to him, her legs slipping under the blankets. He shook himself from the rigid stance his body had taken on and lay down on top of the blankets at the far side of the bed.
He watched her for a moment as her breathing became even and shallow, her shoulders moving every so often with a single contented and sleepy sigh. He remembered their first session; her first demand had been that he remove the helmet show her his face. He reached one hand out to touch her but stopped as his shoulder protested in a single searing shot of pain. He allowed himself to wince as he pulled his arm back to his lap.
She was entirely too close and impossibly far away all at once. He could feel her drawing him in, pulling at him but the direction was unclear, and he still knew so little about her.
"I removed my mask, when will I see you without yours?"