Warning: the following chapters are suitable for mature readers only.

General Graves was the polar opposite of Hux. He was elderly, calm, and cordial. In spite of this, Ren treated him with the same level of respect.

Perhaps the ten-step process for requesting a special detachment from the Finalizer had something to do with it. The days of running roughshod missions with the command shuttle were over, for better or for worse.

After touring the highlights of the ship, General Graves showed off the bridge. Matching the rest of the ship, the polished black floors were spacious and grand. At least a hundred officers manned the various control stations scattered about, and a wide walkway ended at the main viewport—the largest I had ever seen. A panoramic view of stars filled my vision from corner to corner. As I gazed out, I spotted a formation of TIE Fighters conducting routine training, streaking silently through the darkness.

"War meetings?" I heard Ren's voice snap. "Every day?"

"Yes, my Lord," Graves replied in his low timbre. "I believe you will find them quite painless. And informative."

Ren stood with his arms crossed and his stance wide. Nothing on the tour seemed to impress him. Graves' perfectly poised posture contrasted with his sharply.

"I didn't come here to sit in meetings, General."

"I believe your Master expects you to be his eyes and ears aboard Finalizer, Lord Ren."

Taking a few steps forward, Ren glared at him menacingly behind his mask. "My Master's expectations are not your concern."

The General's cool demeanor did not reveal much. The only outward sign of his reaction was a clenched jaw. "Very well," he said evenly.

Ren dismissed Vegas and me when they departed for the war meeting. As we saluted in farewell, I chirped, "Thank you for the tour, sir."

"The pleasure is mine," he said brightly, his eyes darting to the rank insignia on my collar. "Return anytime, Corporal."

Twice as many Stormtroopers, crew, and droids passed us in the halls as we made our way to the lower levels. The constant rumbling of powerful ship engines beneath my feet made me feel right at home. We ate dinner at one of the hundreds of mess halls dotted across the ship. We then explored the interesting parts that weren't included on the tour, like the main hangar bay. Only once did a senior officer snappily order us back to our division.

When we turned in the direction of the officer's quarters, my anxiety from the three-hour hyperspace jump on the command shuttle returned in full force. I managed to swallow my pride by the time we reached the hallway to my quarters.

"Vegas...do you know about...?"

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Ren asked me about it."

"What? What did you say?"

"I told him...well, I told him you would want to."

I froze on the spot. Making sure there was no one behind us, I ripped off my helmet and glared at him. He quickly took his off, revealing a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

"Vegas!" I hissed. "Don't you see how this jeopardizes my standing in the First Order? I could be demoted, or...or—or worse."

"Caltrel," he breathed incredulously. He pointed his finger at the doors we had just passed. "'General,' 'Lieutenant-General,' 'Major-General.' They all do it, too. No one cares."

I closed my eyes and drew in a steadying breath. "I care," I ground out.

He went back on his heel, frowning. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Feeling immediate guilt, I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. "It's alright," I sighed. "I'm not mad at you."

Then he left, and there was nothing else to do but enter my quarters. As I prepared to wave my hand in front of the bioreader, I found myself half wishing that it wouldn't respond to me. The panel turned green right away.

The first room was massive. A rectangular dining table sat in the middle, presumably for entertaining important guests. Behind it, several couches and armchairs lined the walls with plentiful end tables. Modestly decorated shelves were scattered here and there. I gravitated to the closed door on the right, which had an additional bioreader in place.

"Error—user not recognized. Override code required."

I frowned and turned away.

The open door on the left led to the bedroom. The room was mostly empty, save for the giant bed on the rear wall. I could barely look at it without blushing fiercely. Off to the right, I found a door leading to a spacious office with its own computer terminal. The other door in the bedroom led to the refresher, big enough for two sinks, a large shower, and a separate steam room.

I found that my storage locker of personal belongings had been placed just outside the fresher. "FN-3138" was stamped on the top. "Lord Ren" had three lockers.

When I heard someone accessing the front door, I shot to my feet. My stomach flip-flopped.

Ren entered, and his masked gaze found me right away. Only when the door shut behind him did he reach to take it off.

I looked away with my heart pounding. Kneeling, I opened my locker with a wooden arm and rummaged through it. I grabbed some light clothes and a plastoid case and disappeared into the fresher.

I held the edge of the sink as I caught my breath.

Taking off my armor in the fresher was as strange as it sounded. I took extra time doing it, rubbing out any smudges and placing each piece carefully into its case. I smoothed my hands over the front of my shirt as I looked in the mirror above the sink. Shaking out my ponytail, I combed the tangles out of my hair with my fingers.

When I emerged, I kept my eyes on the floor as I returned to my locker. One of Ren's was already open.

I jolted when I heard his voice behind me.

"Tomorrow is the first battle for the Western Reaches."

I nodded, trying to summon the will to turn around.

"You're staying on Finalizer."

I whirled around. "What?"

Ren sat on the edge of the bed in his light clothes, arms crossed loosely and shoulders drooping. He looked dejected, tired, and a bit sad.

"It's too dangerous," he said softly. "I want you here. Safe."

My stomach fluttered. A million questions appeared in my mind—all of them too embarrassing to even think about let alone utter. My eyes darted to the mountain of pillows at the top of the bed, trying to picture the night ahead. His hand moved to the bed beside him, and my eyes followed the movement.

"Some ground rules are in order."

I padded over and obediently sat next to him. A forbidden thrill ran through me as I stared at my hands in my lap. In my peripheral, his hand tightly gripped his thigh. His voice was forceful and even.

"In here, you will call me 'Kylo,' not 'sir.'" He didn't continue until I nodded. "You will bathe every morning and every night, as I do. And no matter what happens, you always have the right to refuse me."

I nodded again, watching my knuckles turn white.

"Lucia," he whispered.

My breath stuttered.

"Look at me."

I dragged my eyes up to his face, one centimeter at a time. His eyes were so close—I could see the ring of dark specks around his irises. I found my eyes traveling lower than they usually dared, down to his full lips and the line of his jaw. The prominence in his throat bobbed when he swallowed, tantalizing me. My lips parted.

"Sir—er, Kylo...I want to, but..."

He slowly lifted his hand. After brushing his fingertips across my cheek, he cupped it in his large palm. His fingers just barely threaded into my hair.

"Then tell me 'no,'" he murmured, his eyes flickering between mine.

My body drifted forward recklessly, knowing exactly what it wanted. I pulled in a ragged breath when I made up my mind. I braced myself on his arm between us as I leaned up, causing his gaze to grow intense.

I kissed him.

Sparks exploded behind my eyelids. As I parted my lips against his, time and space seemed to stop existing. His lips felt so warm and perfect that it took me a moment to realize they weren't moving at all. I pulled back.

The disarmed and innocent look in his wide eyes contradicted everything I knew about him. I gazed up at him with breathless desire, my hand subconsciously tightening on his firm forearm. When he cupped my face and pulled me into a kiss, I whimpered in relief. His lips parted and I responded immediately, wanting, needing to breathe him in like oxygen.

Flames of arousal burst to life inside of me. I grasped the front of his shirt with my other hand, resisting the urge to pull on it as I tasted his lips with my tongue. He gasped into my mouth, his arm flexing under my hand. I wanted him to touch my body, but he didn't. He's nervous.

Picking up his hand, I moved it to my waist. He grasped it, and his other hand slid into my hair, deepening our kiss. My teeth grazed his lower lip, causing him to groan deep in his chest. An intoxicating pulse of heat rushed through me. My hand reached for his shoulder and pushed, easing him down to the bed.

His hand suddenly seized my wrist. The kiss was broken, and we stared at each other with heavy breaths. He was leaning back on one elbow, looking up at me with alarm in his eyes. I sat up slowly and removed my hands from him completely. He's...scared?

Reaching for the hem of my shirt, I stripped it off over my head. His eyes fell, mapping out the skin that my breastband left exposed. When I removed it as well, his mouth fell open. I hesitantly took his left hand and guided it to my breast. I sealed my lips to keep in a moan when his calloused fingers brushed my nipple. His eyes snapped to my face.

Then he sat up and captured my lips again. One hand squeezed my breast as the other cupped the back of my neck. I sighed in bliss as my body hummed with pleasure, and I let my hands explore the plain of his chest and his shoulders. With every touch, I felt him tremble under my fingertips and gasp against my lips. He's so sensitive.

I could only handle a minute of this. I gently pulled away from him and maneuvered onto my back, head sinking into the pillows. As I wiggled out of the last of my clothes, he stood and followed suit. I only caught a glimpse of his muscular body in the dimming light before he moved over me. Nervous excitement was written on his face.

"Ready?" he breathed.

I knew without checking I was more ready for him than any man I'd ever been with. When I nodded breathlessly, his eyes fell between us. I closed my eyes and shivered when I felt the hard tip of his manhood prodding around. Impatiently, I reached down and guided it to my entrance. I gasped when the tip began to stretch me, and he froze. I looked up.

The eyes of a self-conscious teenage boy stared down at me.

His upper body was just out of reach. My arms fell uselessly to my chest.

"I want this," I whined breathlessly. "I want you. Please..."

A fire came to life in his eyes.

He planted his hand in the pillows beside my head. I closed my eyes in anticipation, listening to every labored breath. When he began to push inside, his breaths turned to strangled whimpers. He stretched me to the point of discomfort, triggering my instinct to wiggle and move. But I waited until every centimeter of him was buried inside of me. His head fell to my shoulder, and he breathed out a loud growl that vibrated deep in my flesh. My heart hammered in response.

He was as still as a statue. He panted close to my ear, his voice strained. "Lucia..."

I cupped the back of his head and threaded my fingers into his soft hair. I moved my hips, and he drew in a gasp. Rising back up, he pulled out slightly and pushed back in, creating delightful friction. He made a heady sound as I silently pressed my lips together. He did it again, and I couldn't hold in a wanton moan.

He started moving in earnest, his slow pace like sweet torture. Groans and whimpers fell freely from his lips to my ears, feeding my desire like the finest wine. The promise of release in my lower belly was immediate. When I finally opened my eyes, I regretted not doing so sooner.

His face was flushed pink and his eyes were squeezed shut as he gently thrust into me. His body tensed and trembled with his rapidly approaching orgasm. My mouth hung open as I watched him, completely hypnotized. My hand traveled down my stomach to the place where we were connected, and blinding pleasure erupted under my fingertip. It only took a few strokes to violently throw me over the edge.

I tried to swallow my voice as I clenched around him. Holding my head above the white-hot waves, I watched his eyes snap open and focus on my face. He came undone—an expression of panic followed by pleasure that seemed to take over his entire body. His thrusts became erratic snaps of his hips as he spilled inside me, moaning through his climax.

Then I felt his head heavy on my shoulder. Hot breaths warmed my tingling skin as my awareness of the world slowly trickled back in. I felt the base of him twitch at my entrance, rhythmic and deep. I breathed out a sigh as my hand found his hair again.

He trembled as he pushed himself up on his elbows, curtains of hair framing his face. His hands cupped my face as he stared deeply into my eyes. His voice was raspy and deep.

"Your eyes are like an ocean."

The shower washed away my lingering excitement from what felt like a dream. As images of our lovemaking replayed through my mind, I tried to commit some to memory. Others took on new meaning in my postcoital clarity, causing my brow to furrow in confusion.

My mind struggled to accept the obvious truth that I was his first.