I stripped off my armor after walking through enlisted spaces in the starboard artillery bay. It was still early—0735. It took me two minutes to change into a dress and run my fingers through my hair.
I decided 0737 was too early.
0745? Maybe it's still too early.
I left my room at 0752.
My hands shook even when I squeezed them into fists. I stared at his door and rehearsed a greeting in my head. My mind was barely able to form a coherent thought, and I worried about how my body would react to him in such a private space. Everything is going to be fine.
When the door opened unexpectedly, a shockwave pulsed through every nerve ending in my body. I stared at him, my mouth gaping as every planned word flew from my brain.
His eyes carefully took in my odd reaction. "Come—mm—"
I wobbled on my tip-toes as I pressed my lips to his. His hand came to my waist just before he stumbled backward, pulling me along with him. I caught myself on his chest as we broke apart. He stared down at me, eyes wide and lips parted.
The door swooshed shut.
Then we kissed. My heart raced with excitement as his lips moved with mine. When his hands grasped my waist and pulled my body closer, I could feel the heat of his body through his light clothing. My hands clutched his shoulders for stability as I leaned into him, irrationally wanting, needing to somehow fall into him.
He eventually hit an object, causing him to pull away in surprise. Gripping my sides, he lifted me effortlessly onto the table. He stood between my legs as they dangled over the edge, fire in his eyes as he cupped my face with both of his hands. I gazed up at him, panting in heady excitement. He pulled my breathless lips to his.
My hands roamed his body, free of the fear that once bound them. I slipped one hand under his shirt and felt a shuddering gasp against my lips. My fingers splayed over his carved muscles, feeling them contract at my touch. When he stepped closer, I moved my hand to the back of his head and pulled his lips closer.
Closer.
I wrapped my legs around his hips. Feeling his manhood graze against me, I squeezed my legs to bring him closer. He broke away with a visceral groan.
"Take me to bed," I breathed, wrapping my arms around him.
Am I insane?
I felt his hot breaths on my neck. His hands were frozen on my back, and then he complied.
As soon as my back hit the mattress, the pace slowed. He planted his knees between my parted legs and hovered over me, looking deeply into my eyes and nowhere else. My dress rode up my thighs, exposing most of my leg to his wandering hand. I shivered in anticipation as I reached for the hem of his shirt. He withdrew slightly.
"Is this what you want?" he asked in a low voice.
I nodded. "Yes," I breathed passionately. "Please."
Yes, I'm insane.
Without breaking eye contact, he raised himself up and stripped his shirt off. My eyes hungrily traced over his muscular chest, tarnished by a diagonal scar that led from his neck to his navel. Lower, a patch of mangled scar tissue sat just above the sharp lines of his transverse muscles. Before I could see any more, he leaned down and kissed me relentlessly.
I ran my hands over his toned back, pulling him as close as he would allow. His hand resumed its journey up my thigh and continued around the curve of my hip. I gasped against his lips. When it reached the pool of material on my belly, it paused.
Suddenly, the shrill tone of a communicator sounded. He pulled away with a frustrated sigh and began ripping the band off his wrist. I took the opportunity to wriggle out of my dress.
"Supreme Leader, your 0800 brief is—"
"I'm resting," he growled into the com before aggressively throwing it across the room.
The anger melted from his face when he saw my mostly bare body. My breathing slowed as his eyes raked over me in a way they never had before. Then again, we had never fully undressed for each other before. His hands began to hesitantly explore the places his eyes had mapped out.
When his communicator went off again, his hand shot out and formed a fist, causing a loud pop and a burst of sparks in a corner of the room.
Afterward, I lay on his bare chest, the sheets half covering our naked bodies. His hand aimlessly stroked my shoulder and played with my hair as I listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat. Though neither of us had spoken a full sentence all morning, my eyes slipped shut in contentment. A few peaceful minutes passed.
"The 'pull' I feel...the pain," he said hoarsely. "It subsides when you're near."
Feeling a swell in my chest, I smiled to myself. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head as if he could sense it. I blindly raised my hand and cupped his scruffy face. He turned his head and kissed the palm of my hand, causing me to laugh.
"Why do you feel the pull to the Light?" I asked. When he didn't answer, I added, "The Dark Side is so much more powerful."
"It is," he agreed.
A long pause. It was so long that I realized I had overstepped. He doesn't want to talk about it. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"What do you know about the Skywalkers?"
The change of topic was jarring. "Luke Skywalker...he was a Rebellion hero. And the last Jedi."
"And?"
"Um..." I cast my mind back. "I read that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. Luke's father."
"...And?"
I remained silent as I tried to dig up more information. Before joining the First Order, I hadn't associated the name "Skywalker'' with the Force. Now, they seemed to be mysteriously connected. Kylo's hand suddenly tightened on my shoulder, and his heart rate accelerated. Without seeing his face, I could only guess at the emotion in his voice.
"I was an only child," he began softly. "Born on a Core World. The perfect place to start a family after the war."
I listened in stunned silence.
"My parents never really settled down. They went off-world constantly, leaving me completely alone. My father spent all his time star racing and my mother worked for the New Republic. My only friend was my private tutor...an old man."
"My mother was no Jedi, but she could sense the Force. From an early age, she sensed the darkness in me. My youngest memories of her are eyes filled with fear. When I was just nine years old, she sent me away to live with my uncle." I heard him swallow. "Luke Skywalker."
I froze. "Your...uncle? He's..."
"Dead," he whispered.
My mind began to draw a mental picture of his family tree. I frowned when I thought of his father.
"I resented my parents for sending me away. As I grew older and stronger with the Force, that resentment grew into anger and hatred. Power. I started hearing my grandfather's voice, guiding me to Snoke."
"My parents, my uncle, the other Padawans—they all expected the same thing of me. To become a Jedi Master and continue Luke's legacy." He scoffed under his breath. "They never asked what I wanted."
Like my dad. I held my tongue.
"My power frightened Luke. He thought, 'he's too dangerous.' Jedi are supposed to be pacifists, but they will go to great lengths to destroy what they fear. One night, he tried to kill me in my sleep."
I gasped.
"That was the night I joined the First Order."
Silence followed. As I tried to put all the puzzle pieces together, I slid my hand across his chest to his sternum. His heart thumped wildly under my hand.
"Like my uncle and grandfather before us, my mother and I are on opposite sides of a war." He paused, and his voice began to tremble with emotion. "Even though she threw me away like garbage, I can't stop...needing her. That's why...I feel..."
"The pull," I murmured.
A sigh tumbled out of him, a sound that carried decades worth of emotional burden.
Pushing up on my elbow, I curled my arm around his neck and pressed our foreheads together. I squeezed my eyes shut as a frown pulled at my lips. He locked his hand on the back of my head and sniffled, holding back tears.
"'You don't need your family,'" I quoted.
He breathed out a laugh. "'Easy for you to say.'"
I pressed our lips together, trying to push my sincerity through the contact. His fingers threaded through my hair as he returned the kiss. When I drifted back, boyish anxiety spilled onto his face. Smiling down at him, I cupped his cheek and wiped away a tear with my thumb.
Suddenly, he pulled my hand away and sat up. I slid off him, holding a sheet to my chest. I watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his face, as if waking up from a troubling dream.
"Kylo," I said.
He froze.
"I want you to know...I would have stayed."
He grunted. "If it weren't for Vegas' corrupting influence?"
My brow furrowed. "No..."
"I know," he said, softer. "I know why you left."
Without looking back, he found my hand that was pressed into the sheets. He gently squeezed my fingers. My heart sighed.
"John is not 'corrupting,'" I muttered irritably. "He's right on many things about the First Order."
"Lucia," Kylo warned sternly.
I sealed my lips together.
After a moment, he turned to face me. Any trace of sorrow was gone, replaced with the steely mask of the Supreme Leader. He prowled his way over to me, getting so close that I had to lie on my back. He planted his hands on the mattress on either side of my head.
"Soon, this war will be over," he murmured matter-of-factly. "A new regime will rule the Galaxy. And you'll be by my side. As my Queen."
He lowered his face and kissed me firmly.
