Archive of Our Own

The weight that’s in her gut is indescribable, hot and twisting as it churns her organs into a pile of mush, and her lungs become barren and deflated.

Upon the table, the dice are glowing beneath the overhead lamps, their shadow casting long, sinister fingers down green felt and mahogany.  Their numbers betray her hopes, the crushing sensation of shame and defeat squeezing her throat, and when she spares a glance to the man at her left, the expression he wears matches the same fear that’s crippling her core.

Somehow she knew—she knew this could be the result; the risks they were taking were massive to begin with, but the height of them now, towering taller than the vaulted ceilings of the casino floor, is almost too much to bear.  In a single roll, everything they’ve known and loved and made for themselves is simply gone.

And she hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t told him to ease off the bets or to back away from it all.  If anything, she goaded him further, the plastic stacks of chips piling in their favor from the beginning.  The thrill of possibility had burned beneath her skin, tingled through her fingers into his shoulders as she pressed close to him, her grin warming her face and fueling his laughter.  They had been so close, doing so well, and they might have felt confident in their chances.

But it had come to the last roll of the night.  All cards on the table, all in.  One roll, and everything they’d put forward was gone.

Sinking into the chair, Rey’s eyes are glued to the white and black dice, as if willing them to tip, to roll once more, to change their fate.  But they remain stagnant, unchanging, unwavering, unsympathetically stuck to the fabric of the table.  Beside her, her husband’s shoulder slump, sink, and she wonders if he’s even breathing.

Around them, people are laughing, jeering, congratulating the pale-faced ginger who has bested them.  Rey spares him a glance, the light dipping into his chiseled complexion, glinting off of his eyes that pierce her like daggers, and she swallows the ache in her pride.  Tilting her chin up, she masks her sorrow, before reaching for a drink that doesn’t belong to her, and downing it at once.

“Everything… we’ve lost everything?”  Her husband’s voice tickles her ear, and she turns toward him, straightening her back.  He’s crumpled in on himself, looking sadder than she’s ever seen, and she snaps a hand to his shoulder, digging and pulling him up in an instant.

“We’ll figure it out.  We’ll come back from this, we always do.”

“Rey,” he’s shaking his head, and she’s ignoring the gleam in the eye of the ginger across the table.  “This isn’t—I put everything in.  Everything.  Our money, our savings, the shop—”

“We’ll figure it out!”  She cuts, baring her teeth for a moment before breathing deeply, though there’s something stirring under the surface of her skin that wants to scream.  She already knows the repercussions of their mess, knows that their hard-earned wealth, the title to the shop they’ve been working on, all of it is gone.  She knows this, but she cannot be defeated, cannot let her sorrow show. 

The ruckus around them stifles and dies, and she turns her head to see a shadow parting the sea of strangers in silk and diamonds.  He’s pale, his eyes and cheeks hollowed like he’s gone too many nights without sleep, but there’s a haunting kind of charm to the bow of his lips and the glint in his dark gaze.  His hair is pushed back, thick waves rolling around his face and teasing the tops of his broad shoulders, the black of his suit complimenting the steady gait of his step as he approaches the table.

Rey’s eyes narrow, and she gives this newcomer a quick once over, refusing to acknowledge the heat of her cheeks when she realizes he does the same to her.  Her eye catches his hand, setting down a thin piece of paper she recognizes to be a check beside the traitorous dice.

“What’s this, Ren?”  The ginger asks, taking a slow drink from his tumbler.  The man—Ren—pays him no regard, at least none that Rey can distinguish, as his eyes remain on her.

“An offer.”  Ren says, and Rey feels a tickle race its way down her spine at the lull of his baritone voice.  At her side, her husband stiffens, his hand coming to the small of her back.

“What for?  This is hardly your game,” the ginger continues, rolling his eyes.  He shoulders Ren out of the way, snatching up the check with a quick, deft hand.  In a moment, Rey sees his composure falter, his eyes widen, and he shoots a warning glance.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Come now, Hux, you have more than enough to last you ten lifetimes.  Allow me to feel generous.”

“What are you playing at?”  Rey swallows, giving her husband a glance as he leans forward, resting an arm against the wood grain of the table.  The two men across the green turn their heads, and Rey wonders if she should feel small.  Instead, Hux regards her husband carefully, while Ren’s eyes return to her own.  Something swells in her gut, and she sits even taller in her chair.

“It appears my associate wishes to put money down onto a game that is past completion.  You needn’t bother with him.”  Hux chides, swatting the check to Ren’s chest.  A smile ghosts over his lips, his dark brow furrowing in amusement.

“On the contrary,” Rey finds herself speaking, turning her gaze to meet Hux’s icy stare.  “I think I’d like to hear it.”

Hux’s jaw clenches, and Rey allows a small smirk in his direction before giving her attention to Ren, whose gaze betrays something heavy and feral.  When he blinks, it’s gone, and she thinks that it held private intentions before being caught.  Still, there’s a beat, and a smile is passed, and Ren reaches across the table to hand her the check.

Their fingers nearly brush, though not quite, yet Rey is still certain that something passes through the paper and under her skin.  Swallowing thickly, she brings the check into view, tilting it so that her husband can see, and for the second time she feels breathless.

Proudly displayed upon the surface is a modest amount of one million dollars, signed Kylo Ren in thin, neat penmanship.  There’s a small logo in the top corner, akin in design to a gear, with First Order Industries printed in block letters.  All it needs is a recipient.

Licking her lip, Rey lifts her gaze as her husband eases the paper from her hand, cradling it in both of his own. 

“Why?”  She asks, raising a brow.  Ren slides his hands into his pockets, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth.  “You must want something in return.”

“A gesture of kindness is often an inspiring motivator for a lifestyle change,” his voice is smooth, barely above a low rumble.  “Besides, what I want is considerably small in return.”

“Name it,” her husband says at once, desperation thick in his tone, and Rey feels pressure coil around her lungs.

“A price better discussed in private.  Shall we?”

Her husband stands, of course, at once, his fingers gripping the check like it might, at any time, be taken.  Hesitating, Rey keeps her gaze locked with Ren’s.  It’s a sudden turn of events, and the suspicion clawing at her gut only burns deeper when a hand takes her arm and lifts her from her chair, pulling her from the table. 

Batting her husband’s hold away, her heels click quietly against the floor as a shiver races its way down her spine, snaking between her ribs and digging into her hips as air flushes behind her, and Ren passes her on the left.  There’s a musk of cologne and something that Rey can’t place, yet it sours her cheeks and makes her mouth water.  Breathing deeply, she holds it, lets it fill her center, before following, leaving the crowd and the gingered man behind like a fading dream.

Ren takes them to a room off of the main floor, the lamps lighting the space in a warm, golden light, and when the door clicks shut Rey feels uncertainty clawing at her core.

“What’s this price you mentioned?”  She presses immediately, her lips forming a thin line as Ren straightens, folding his hands behind his back.

In this light, his appearance isn’t nearly so garish, the curl of his hair hiding large, prominent ears that make him seem much younger than his suit and posture suggest.  When he opens his mouth, there’s a flick of tongue that darts to wet the corner, and he offers a shy smile. 

“A single night.  With you.”

With you.  The words are heavy, nearly tangible in the space between them, and it’s the third time that Rey stops breathing, her heart thudding so hard in her chest she hears and feels the pulse in her ears. 

Beside her, her husband lifts his head, his gaze, at last, not glued to the check in his grasp.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, and Rey blinks, swallowing thickly.  Ren doesn’t look at him.  “What do you mean a night?  What are you implying?”

“I’m implying nothing,” Ren retorts, almost looking offended.  Rey glances at the check, at the figure printed; her stomach flips, and she knows Ren isn’t being entirely truthful.  “You’ve brought a rather delicate situation upon yourselves, I’m offering to relieve you of that burden.  In exchange, I’d like her company.”

“Why?”

“I can provide a reason if you’d like a lesser sum?”  Ren raises a brow, and Rey’s hand comes and rests upon her husband’s shoulder.

“All right,” she interjects, and her husband wheels on her.  Taking her arm, he leads her away, across the room, before blocking Ren from her line of sight.

“Rey,” he chips, and she focuses on his face.  “I won’t let you.”

“I hardly think you have a say in this.  He’s offering to square away this debt, and in exchange for a night?  We have no other options.”  Her heart is thrumming in the hollow of her throat, and she feels like at any moment she might fall over, but Ren is a shadow at the opposite end of the room, and there’s a tether pulling lightly at her center. 

“I don’t like it,” he says, shaking his head.  She softens her frown, and reaches out to touch his cheek.

“I know.  But we cannot refuse this.  That shop is all we have, everything is invested into it.  We need it.”

“He could hurt you—”

It’s a real possibility, and Rey has no doubt in her mind that if Kylo Ren wanted to, he could take whatever he wanted from her.  But she spares a look passed the shoulder of her husband where Ren is waiting patiently, his hands folded behind his back, and there’s a knowing look in his eye that quells the uproar in the back of her mind.  The tether strums faintly, familiar and warm.

“He won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”  She sighs, leaning in to give her husband a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth, and she feels him relax.

“You have to trust me.  I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” he breathes.  “It doesn’t stop me from worrying.  And it doesn’t mean I’ll trust him.”

“You don’t have to.”

Pulling away slowly, Rey slides her hands over those of her husband’s, pressing the check closer to him.  She offers a squeeze, and a nod, before stepping away from him.  From his place, Ren tilts his head, and smirks.

“Have you decided, then?”  Ren asks, and Rey breathes deeply, crossing to him.

“You have a deal.”

“How fortunate,” the smile that lingers sends a shiver surging down Rey’s spine, but she swallows, and steadies herself.  Ren looks beyond her, to her husband, before extending a hand.  “Allow me to address it.”

There’s reluctance in her husband’s face, and he slowly hands the check back.  With a flourish, Ren delves into the inner pocket of his blazer before retrieving a pen.  Rey watches him take the check back, before offering her and her husband’s names.  He nods in thanks, scrawling quickly onto the surface, before handing the paper back.

She takes it, ignoring his lingering gaze to see the fresh ink drying, her name glittering under the light briefly before she passes it to her husband, who eagerly takes hold of it.  It feels like the signing of a contract, really, even if she didn’t sign off on it herself.  She rests a hand against his arm, catching his attention.

“Wait for me in the hall?”  Her husband’s eyes narrow, shifting between her and Ren.  “I’ll only be a moment.”

She knows he’s loathe to leave her alone, and with each step his stride weakens, but the check is in his hands, and when he disappears through the door, Rey gathers her resolve and zeroes in on the dark haired man before her.

“We have a few conditions I’d like to discuss before this goes further,” she breathes, folding her hands in front of her.  She keeps her shoulders back, chin lifted, and even though Ren towers well over half a foot above her, she will not bend before him. 

“Naturally.  Tell me.”  Ren agrees with a nod.

“I am conceding to this arrangement because my husband and I are in a dire situation, and your—albeit vague—request is minimal compared to what you’re offering to do for us.  But I am not being bought.  No matter what does or does not happen for this single night you are wanting, you will respect what I consent to.”

“Rey,” he purrs, and she bites down on the tremble in her lower back.  “You wound me, that I would treat you any less than you deserve.”

Swallowing thickly, Rey inhales slowly.  “You will not share whatever transpires between us with my husband.”

At this, Ren’s eyes become serious and assuring.

“Never.  If I wanted to invite him, I would have made that clear.”

She nods, blinking once.  “Only a night?”

The smile Kylo Ren offers her is simple, almost friendly, but the darkness in his eyes burns her core, igniting something she knows she should feel shame for, yet doesn’t.

“One night.”

She meets him at the door, a black cocktail dress hugging her slight curves, heels dressing her feet and raising her a handful of inches.  Pearls line her throat, and when he takes in the sight of her, she swallows the sound that threatens to leave her when his gaze deepens, eyes dilating.

Ren had a car retrieve her from the apartment she shared with her husband in the city’s center—a sleek sports model that rumbled like a kitten.  She’d ignored the scoffs and quips of her husband, sparing him only a kiss and another bout of reassuring phrases to ease his troubled mind before leaving him.  Though she could only offer so much to him, it did—and continues to do—nothing for her.

Even now, standing in the threshold of Ren’s lofty home at the glittering top of the city, Rey cannot shake the unease that stirs within her.  He widens it, beckons her inside, and she can feel his eyes as she passes him, her coat draped over her arm.  The door clicks shut behind her, and she stifles a gasp.

The darkened floorboards span out into an open space; a concrete pillar stands in the center, an island planted around it with marble counters and glass-fronted cabinetry.  Something savory is roasting in the double oven in the corner, and there's a bowl holding leafy greens and chopped vegetables.  The kitchen shames the one she has at home it's elegance and flow, yet it proves to hardly be the most endearing feature of the loft.

There are leather couches and arm chairs surrounding a small fireplace and a flat screened television on the wall above.  Planes and bookshelves frame the space, leather bound novels stacked neatly.  She cannot see the titles, but imagines that Ren is well read, likely versed in a good string of literature.  She almost considers it suiting.

Closest to the massive window that features the city line is a small breakfast table adorned with a white table cloth and a flickering candle.  Two wine glasses are perched near a bottle of red, glimmering in the light. 

A hand touches her coat, and she lets Ren ease it from her grasp, watching as he hangs it neatly into a thin closet just behind a wall separating the entry from the kitchen.  She feels nearly naked without it, her fingers skimming where its weight had been, goosebumps spreading along her arms.

When he turns to her, it's with a careful, friendly smile.  “I thought I'd prepare us dinner, if you're hungry.”

“How could I refuse?”  Rey asks, and she earns a quiet laugh.  Fingers trailing her arm, she relaxes slowly, turning to the space again.  There’s a homey quality to the atmosphere, hardly as cold or sterile as she might have anticipated given Ren’s nature upon their first meeting.

“You’re under no obligation,” Ren continues, slipping past her toward the table with the wine, and she smells that musk again, her tongue pressing to the back of her teeth.  “But it would be rude of me not to offer.  After all, you are my guest.”

“A man of your stature, I’d expect you to have many guests,” Rey muses, following him. 

She takes a moment to admire him; the clean cut of his charcoal suit flatters his figure, and he is larger than she had previously imagined.  The span of his shoulders is wide, powerful, and the definition in his arms and stance suggests that his background is less stationary than one might expect for someone of First Order.  Her eyes flit at the ruby tie gracing his neck, and her face flushes when he smirks, catching her staring.

“You mean the crooks, frauds, and liars that also work at my institution?  You might be relieved to hear I don’t associate with them quite as often as some would expect.”

He reaches out to her, holding a glass in hand.  Taking it, their fingers brush, and a spark surges its way down her arm, spreading through her core.  She sucks a breath in, her gaze meeting his, and there’s a kind of wonder in his eyes that softens her tongue. 

Pulling away, she takes a tentative sip, rich blackberries and earth warming the taste, and she swallows with a quiet hum.

“You like it?”

Raising an eyebrow, Rey offers a smile.

“It’s delicious.”

“If I may,” he says, taking his own small drink, before licking his lips.  “What brought you to the casino?  You and your husband clearly had a good enough reputation to be present, but you should have known better than to gamble against Hux.”

Rey chuckles, shaking her head before sipping slowly from her glass.  The lights of the city are warm and glittering through the window, and she crosses to it.  It’s massive, spanning out into the horizon, with a dark port and ocean fading into the waning light of dusk.

“Ambition,” she says after a moment, letting out a slow breath.  “We’d opened a new shop, put everything into it.  He’s a designer, I’m a mechanic.  We thought we could tag team, offer reparative services, build our own cars.  We wanted to make something… ours.  We thought if we played the stakes right, took the risks, we could really make it impressive.  That table had the connections we needed.  And then we lost.”

There are footsteps, and Ren comes up behind her.  He’s warm, and Rey has half a mind to lean back into him, to rest against his shoulder and sink into the weight of his hold.  But he’s being kind, and keeping his hands to himself, and she bites the inside of her cheek in response.

“You did well, all things considered,” his voice is low and cool, and she sneaks a glance over her shoulder at him.  “For a moment, I believe Hux was genuinely worried about his chances.”

“Who is he?”

“My colleague, and counterpart, at First Order.  He’s ambitious, too, and knows how to motivate people.  But he’s ruthless, cunning, and sees the world in numbers and strategies.  He forgets to enjoy the little things.”

“And you?  Do you enjoy the little things?” 

Ren smiles, and when he tucks a finger under her chin, she holds her breath as shivers race along her skin. 

“Of course.  Especially the beautiful ones.” 

He’s long gone from her, making his way into the kitchen when Rey regains her breath and composure, turning away to drink her wine and calm her trembling nerves.  Closing her eyes, she imagines her husband, the check, the prospect of fixing their mistake from the other night, and she takes another hearty gulp from her glass. 

Steeling herself, she relaxes her shoulders and lengthens her back, turning on her heel to face Ren.  He’s stripped the loose suit jacket, and has rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, and Rey stares as the lines of his arms, toned and pale as cream, his large hands preparing a salad as a timer dings from the oven.

She hums behind her glass as she watches him, the calculated grace of his steps as he maneuvers the kitchen, garnishing delicate plate ware with what looks to be a roast, the greens, and he retrieves a pan of browned bread from the upper over.  When he sweeps his hair from his face and smiles at her, she doesn’t bother shying away from smiling back.

Following him back to the table, Rey eases the wine bottle out of the way as he sets the plates down in their proper spaces.  She moves to take her seat when his hand halts her, fingers warm and smooth against her arm.  Catching his eye, she parts her lips to speak, but his smile quiets her, and he eases her chair out for her.

A blush warms her face, and she writes it off with the wine before sitting slowly.  He takes the opposite seat, the candlelight glowing between them, and he refills her glass.

The roast is divine, supple and tender, and full of so much flavor that she cannot distinguish any given spice or herb.  The blend is delicate, and only further complemented by the salad and bread.  Quite frankly, it’s perhaps one of the best meals she can recall having within the last several years, easily, and she reigns herself in from sloppily digging into every piece. 

But even as they eat, drinking wine and passing glances over the flickering candle, Rey cannot deny or ignore the disquiet that continues to waver and pull at her.  Swallowing slowly, she sets her fork and knife down, patting her mouth dry with the napkin to her left.

Lifting her head to him, she catches Ren’s eyes.  Breathing slowly, she regards him, before carefully speaking.  “Why?”

Ren hesitates refilling his glass, taking a breath, before setting the wine bottle down.  “Why, what?”

“Why this?  Why me?  You don’t know me, or my husband.  You didn’t have to help us, but you did.  Why?”

Ren smiles, giving his attention briefly to his wine before setting it aside with a sigh and a flash of tongue at the corner of his mouth.  “Because I believe in second chances, and in opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”

“Yes,” he muses, smiling at her.  “Taking advantage of every and any opportunity, not letting it go to waste.  I meant what I said the other night, that kind gestures are good motivators.  You mentioned ambition, a desire to make your business more.  You seized a chance and fumbled it—such misfortune is, tragically, common, especially in our world.  I am giving you and your husband a fresh start.”

“And in return, this was all you wanted?”  Rey presses.

“I wanted to see if you have what it takes.  Starting your own business in no small feat.  You needn’t be cruel, conniving, or unreasonable to get what you want.  You’re charming, you think quickly and act accordingly.  More importantly, you’re smart, Rey.  You just need someone to properly guide you—to teach you.”

“And that someone is you?”  Ren smiles at her, then.

“Perhaps.  That, of course, is entirely up to you.”

She leans back in her seat some, taking another drink of her wine before letting it rest at the corner of her plate. 

“My husband and I have always been a team, since our youth.  We’re inseparable, know how to work together.  And if you ever think I’m stubborn, he’s much more hard headed.”

“Men usually are,” Ren concedes, and Rey lets out a quiet laugh. 

“So what then?  You cover our losses; we get our proper start.  And you’re just there—supervisor, teacher.”

“If you’d like.”

Rey shakes her head.  “But what is it you want?  Truly?”

There’s a flash in Ren’s eyes, and Rey reaches instinctively for her wine when her mouth runs dry.  She knows she doesn't really need to ask; the glint is easy enough to read without his mouth curling into a smirk.  And there's heat behind it, burning brighter than the candle and hotter than the drink in her stomach.  Swallowing deeply, she empties her glass.

She watches him blink, and he sits back in his chair, the moment sliding away.  Gnawing lightly on her lip, she tips her head, and he offers her the bottle.  She glances at it, mouth watering at the idea, but shakes her head.

“You ask a dangerous question, Rey.”

Scoffing, Rey rolls her eyes, and looks away.  There’s a burning beneath her skin, and he’s skirting around the edges of her patience.

“You're the one who offered this arrangement.  I agreed, and I remain, knowing what this could mean.  I didn't give you conditions out of a naivety that dinner is all you'd want.  However, if you're planning on drinking me into compliance, you're less admirable than I thought.”

The darkness returns almost at once, primal and hot, and the candlelight flickers against Ren’s face, casting shadows against his sharp cheeks and large nose.  Rey bites her cheek, dipping her shoulders, feeling the fabric of her dress slip slightly as she stands from her chair.  Ren’s eyes follow the lines of her collarbones, soaking her in as she stands.

She rounds the table to him, forcing him to turn in his seat.  His knees are spread, and the fabric of his suit pulls over his groin.  Easing the skirt of her dress higher on her thigh, she snakes a leg over his, sliding onto his lap.  She can feel him breathe, a stuttered thing as he huffs and hums, and her fingers curl around the threads of his tie.  Tugging lightly, Rey draws him close enough that their noses nearly brush.

“Tell me, Ren,” she breathes, staring deeply at him.  “You wanted company.  My company, specifically.  What, exactly, do you want?”

He doesn't answer verbally, but steals her breath and a moan in a crushing kiss that knocks her backward, one of his large hands circling her hip and palming her lower back as the other cups the base of her neck.  She opens her mouth wider, kissing him hard, tasting him as he flits his tongue along the curve of her lower lip.  Beneath the flavor of the wine is another kind of sharp, rich red fruit, and a craving awakens in her.

One hand knotted in his tie, the other comes and cups his face, his skin smooth and stubble free beneath her touch as his fingers dig into her hair, pulling gently.  Gasping, Rey tilts her head back, breaking their kiss, opening herself to melt beneath the flurry of lips and teeth at her throat and collarbones.  He trails around the edges of the pearls, hot against her skin, his hands shifting against her body until he’s gripping her tight, standing slowly.

She wraps her knees against his hips, locking her ankles around his lower back, heels clicking together, the dress snaking up around her own waist.  She blushes into his hair, cool air kissing her thighs and the lace she decided to wear.  Ren holds her, firm and steady, before taking careful steps to the cool marble countertop. 

Shivering and sighing, Rey lets out a quiet giggle as Ren eases her onto it, his hands clearing the space behind her before he plants more kisses along her skin.  He’s surprisingly gentle, planting each kiss like a caress along her throat, her jaw, sweeping against her cheeks before he presses his mouth to her own, soft and almost sweet.  She breathes, relishing in the simplicity of this kiss, chaste and innocent by comparison to its predecessors.

He pulls back after a moment, gazing at her until she melts and kisses him again, her fingers trailing along his face and sinking into his hair.  Ren stands, nestling between her knees, his palms planted at her waist, holding and secure.  He dips his head back again, and Rey mewls quietly, following his mouth.  He turns, instead, and kisses her temple.

“Ren,” Rey warns, a laugh bubbling between her lips, and he smiles at her.  “Why’d you stop?”

“Because,” he begins, a quiet lull to his voice that twists her insides.  Her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck.  “You asked I respect you, and what you consent to.  Would you like to hear what I want to do?”

Heat blossoms in her gut, and Rey nods slightly.

“Say it, if you please.”  She swallows, cheeks warming.

“Tell me what you want to do.”  She breathes, and his smile widens.

“I’d like to undress you, starting with your heels.  I’ll kiss you from toe to head, unzip your dress, and lavish each inch that becomes exposed in affection.  When you’re ready, I’ll help you out of it, and worship you fully, and completely.”

There are goosebumps covering her, and a tremor is racing its way up and down her spine, and Rey falters back against her elbows, breathing hard.  Ren’s eyes are hooded and dark, but unlike that of an animal, they’re focused and firm, blazing with a fire that warms her down to the deepest, darkest parts of her. 

He pulls back, giving her a breath of space, his hands on either side of her knees, which have fallen open, her dress hiked up enough that the lace is in full sight.  Even then, his eyes do not waver from her own, no matter how she looks now, spread out as she is.  Inhaling deeply, Rey nods slowly, a moan pressing behind her teeth.  A smile flirts at the corner of his mouth.

But he doesn’t move, and when Rey realizes he’s waiting for her verbal consent, she nods again.  “I’d like that.  Please.”

True to his word, Ren takes a short step back, dropping slowly to a knee.  Lifting her foot, Rey tucks the ball of her heel to his shoulder, a smirk bowing her mouth as Ren’s eyes flash under the light of the lamps above them.  He dips his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her ankle and calf, his hand coming up to cup and cradle her leg.

Biting at her lip, Rey watches as he draws stars and constellations into her skin, kissing birth marks and scars from welding accidents and rough childhood games, easing the heel from her foot before setting it neatly at the base of the island.  She swings the other leg up, digging the heel gently in his chest, and he lets out a breath that washes over her skin, a tremble dancing its way up her leg.

He glances at her, hair swept over his eyes, before dipping down and gracing her opposite ankle and calf.  Ren makes quicker work of this heel, his hands sliding up the undersides of her calves, tickling the backs of her knees, shifting forward until her legs slide over his shoulders, and he’s kissing the insides of her thighs, nipping baby fat with his teeth.  His breath blows over her skin, and he teases her with a quick stripe of tongue before easing away, letting her legs fall and rest against the counter again.

She knows she’s hot, and wet, and she sits up to pull him in for a kiss, fingers tangled again in his tie.  It’s crinkled from her grasp, and they bump noses and teeth as they kiss, but he tastes impossibly good, and his hands are large and gentle at her waist.  Breaking for a breath, Rey ghosts a kiss along his jaw, kissing his throat, nipping his ear, and she feels his hand circle to the zipper at the back of her dress.

Shaking, she hears the metal teeth unclasp, the fabric loosening and slipping off of her shoulders further.  Her hair hangs in waves around her face, and she bows her head behind a curtain of bangs as the dress sags around her elbows and torso, the glow of the lamp and the night life beyond the window glittering off the film of sweat on her skin, and when Ren pulls back to look at her, she feels her heart stop.

The look he gives her is one she can’t, with certainty, claim to have expected; his eyes soften, focused yet distant in their gaze, as his lips part slightly.  His face slacks, relaxing, a boyish look of wonder and awe.  She knows the way she looks—sun kissed, with freckles gracing her sternum to her hips, the black lace of her bra a sharp contrast by comparison, frilly and entirely for show.  But Kylo Ren looks at her not like a man possessed with desire, but a man seeing the purest embodiment of light.

The pull she feels, drawing her forward and into his arms, is one she cannot resist.

She thinks he tastes like berries and dark chocolate, a savory and sinful combination that churns her cravings and leaves bubbling, desperate moans on her tongue.  When he kisses her, it's with fire and affection, tender and passionate, and though she wonders, briefly, how many other women have come before her, Rey prefers to believe in the moment that no one else could possibly have been kissed this way, or felt the things she feels.  For each moment is fresh, thrilling, electricity running through her veins, stirring and twisting with heat.

Ren kisses her throat, breathing hot and wet against the pearls, before trailing bites and kisses down her shoulders and over the tops of her breasts where the lace tickles.  He traces the lines, careful not to mark her, but putting enough force behind eat bite to cause her to jump, to moan, and press into his hold.  Her fingers tremble and shake as they weave into his hair.

She feels him lift his head, and he's got his mouth ghosting a kiss over her left nipple.  Nodding, Rey swallows the lump in her throat, their eyes locked as he kisses her breast, faint and sweet, tracing the curve and following the patterns in the garment. 

Arching her back, Rey stutters and sighs, inching her thighs farther apart to pull him closer.  She can feel her pulse between her legs, thrumming to the rhythm of his kisses and bites, the heat of his body soaking into her hands, leeching from where he's got a hold of her, and though she doesn't want this considerate attention to end, the pressure is welling in her hips.

After a moment, Ren teases the fabric with his tongue, before taking her nipple through the lace, biting, and pulling lightly.

With a gasp, Rey jerks into his hold, crying out quietly as pleasure spikes from the bud, racing along the surface of her skin, skittering down her front and straight to the already pulsing heat of her sex.

Ren, of course, has a glint in his eye, and he takes the bud and her breast into his mouth, sucking gently.  Rey arches again, digging her fingers into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp as he sucks, Ren’s hands gripping just above her hips.  Pleasure thrums, weaving down her core and between her thighs. 

Dropping a hand from his hair, Rey slips her fingers between her legs, fumbling at the fabric of the lace, the tips dragging over hair and slick skin when one of Ren’s hands circles her wrist, stopping her.  Whining desperately, Rey grits her teeth, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a sharp tug of his hair.  He scrapes, dragging his teeth, ripping a cry from the back of her throat.

“Ren,” she growls, panting hard.  Her tone is rugged, and he leans up and kisses her gently.  Whimpering into his mouth, she stretches her fingers, trying once more, but Ren’s hand is large and firm, and her fingers skitter against her skin, useless and unsatisfying. 

She muffles a please against his lips, arching under his touch and gaze.  Withdrawing her hand from the lace, he maneuvers the dress up her waist, prompting her to lift her arms until he frees her of it entirely.  The cool air of the apartment kisses her skin, goosebumps raising along her abdomen and thighs.  Left now only in lace and pearls, there’s a short-lived part of Rey that believes she should feel exposed, objective in this moment of voyeurism, but Ren’s eyes are clear and compassionate, and she only desires to strip completely.

His hands come to her waist again, inching her forward along the counter top until she’s sitting on the very edge of it.  He kisses her sweetly, dotting butterfly pecks down her jaw, and throat, over the swell of each breast before giving her nipples soft, playful bites.  Moaning again, Rey spreads her thighs, reclining back against her elbows as Ren dips his head, his black hair sweeping and tickling her skin as he draws circles with his tongue against her hips.

Rey can feel her toes curling as she hooks a leg over the corner of the counter, spreading wide.  She feels the huff of his breath before hearing his laughter, his palms coming to her legs to close them. 

“Ren, I swear—”

“Patience,” he breathes, fingers curling into the lace, easing it down her hips.  “Wouldn’t want to ruin these, would we?”

“I have others,” Rey mumbles, watching the black frills slide down the tone of her thighs, bunched briefly at her knees before Ren’s delicate fingers traced them along her calves and off from each ankle.  He folds them, setting them aside, and Rey isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his insistence of each detail.

He comes back to her then, fingers sweeping along the outer curve of her thighs, thumbs slipping in between her legs, easing her open once more.  This is hardly the first time someone’s made an effort to tease and seduce her, and she’s certainly not a blushing virgin with no experience in pleasure.  But Ren’s eyes darken, dilating as he spreads her knees, thighs trembling, sex wet and undoubtedly swollen with unsatisfied desire, and something in Rey suddenly feels very, very small.

Heat touches her face, flooding her cheeks, and Rey momentarily hides behind the wave of her hair in modesty.  The hunger in Ren’s eyes is overwhelming, the oppositional grace of his fingers suggesting that she is delicate and worthy of care cripples her center, and Rey falters against the counter, laying back as Ren closes in and dips his head between her thighs.

He does not take her at once, not like she might expect or want him to.  For a moment there’s nothing but his breath fanning against her skin, and she twitches beneath him.  But then she feels the barest touch of his mouth against her groin, over and over and coming closer to her cunt until his lips caress her folds, the tip of his tongue gliding over the hood just above her clit, and Rey fights the urge to seize, scream, and come then and there.

Clawing at the countertop, Rey arches as she feels his mouth peppering her with soft, open kisses, circling along her groin and inner thighs, a buzz of a hum against her vulva, the flat of his tongue pressing faint and briefly to her slick sex.  He kisses and teases every part of her on the outside, giving special attention to her like she’s a treat, and flames are licking their way along her legs and up her torso, engulfing her center until she’s gasping and arching, crying out from prolonged anticipation.

When he presses his tongue to her, slipping it faintly inside, Rey bucks, and feels a flood of heat and pleasure course through her body and rip a wail from her throat.  Tremors are racing beneath the surface of her skin, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as Ren’s tongue inches deeper, warm and wet and far too much for her to handle.  Breathing deeply through her nose, Rey drags her opposite hand up her abdomen, under the lace of her bra, where her fingers clumsily grab at her breast, massaging tenderly before digging her nails into the skin.

Ren moans into her, the purr pulsing against her sex, and she jerks and arches again, muffling her screams by biting into the meat of her palm.  His tongue traces the folds, drawing patterns she can’t distinguish before circling up, around, and over her clit.  Hiking a foot up, she presses the arch to the edge of the counter, rooting herself as she drops her hand from her mouth, tangling her fingers into Ren’s hair. 

He presses his mouth to her, lavishing the bud of nerves as one of his fingers slides easily into her, and she becomes hyperaware of each joint, the length of it, how slender it feels inside of her compared to when he’s touched her cheek or held her thigh.  It seems endless, and he curls it up into her, beckoning her as he swirls his tongue, and Rey screams so hard that her voice cracks.

Panting heavily, the flurry abates and calms slowly, the pleasure dissipating from a thunderstorm to a dull roar, and Ren straights and stands slowly, his finger still stroking her from within.  Bleary-eyed, Rey turns her head, blinking back the haze to see him licking his lips, a dampness coating his mouth and jaw.

“I must say,” he says after a moment, leaning down, easing a second finger into her, before whispering against her throat.  “You taste divine.”

“Fuck,” Rey whines, arching into him again.  His hand flattens against her stomach, easing her down flat before he kisses her again.  The taste of herself on his tongue, mixed with his musk and the wine, is one that sends shivers through her, and she moans quietly as his fingers thrust slow and rhythmically. 

He kisses her, long and lazy, with the occasional grace of his tongue against hers, or her teeth hooking into his lip, pulling him deeper.  His fingers are warm, stretching her, rekindling the fires that bubble and pool in her gut.  She rocks her hips into his hand, clenching around him, dragging out the sensations, her fingers skirting along the tops of his shoulders.

Feeling fabric, she opens her eyes, kissing his jaw before bringing her hands to his tie.  With deft, nimble care, she loosens the knot before slipping it over his head, the collar of his shirt folding up around his throat.  A smile blooms on his mouth, and she leans up to kiss him, fingers popping one button after the next until the shirt opens enough for her to part the fabric, her lips immediately tasting the space between his collarbones, the firm space of his sternum, the tender and warm expanse of his chest.  She drags her teeth over a nipple, flirting with the aroused bud as Ren’s gasp ripples beneath her mouth.

His fingers curl, moving faster and harder in her, and she makes quick work of the belt at his hips, moaning as his free hand cups her jaw, his thumb skimming over her cheek.  Falling into him, their foreheads touch, noses bumping, a breath being shared as she pulls the belt free, letting it clatter to the floor below.  She watches, briefly, his fingers sinking and disappearing into her, and she lets out a breathy moan, certain she’ll never find the sight sexy again unless it’s his fingers, his arm, his doing that makes her fall apart.

Ren lets his fingers slide free, slipping them into his mouth as Rey fumbles with the buttons of his trousers, haphazardly untucking his shirt with impatience.  It takes work, but she manages to undo them, inching her way off of the counter before toeing the floor, standing in front of him.

Her legs wobble, and he embraces her, a hardness pressed to her hip and thigh that makes her gasp.  They kiss again, tender and soft, and the moment melts into something sweeter than chocolate, the gentility sinking into Rey’s bones as Ren’s hands frame her face.  He kisses her with something familiar and honest, an aesthetic of summer and flowers and the kind of childish romance only ever imagined in books washing over her, and her hands come to his chest, pushing him a step away.

She’s breathing hard, the tether thrumming almost violently in her soul, and he’s looking at her with caution, letting his hands fall from her face.  Her heart is pounding, and she digs her heels into the ground, swallowing slowly as the glint of the light from the windows and the lamps and the waning candlelight catches on the thin band on her left ring finger, and she sighs deeply.

“Rey,” Ren whispers, tilting his head to look her in the eye.  “We don’t have to.”

“That’s the problem,” she admits too quickly, chuckling.  In the back of her mind, she can see her husband’s face, but when she looks up, all she can focus on is Ren.  “I want to.  I—need to.”

He’s searching her eyes, blown black, and his mouth is red from her abuse and her lipstick.  She thinks that it’s not enough—there aren’t enough marks on him to really show what this means to her, what this night will do to her for the rest of her life.  She wants to dig her nails, to bite and scratch and draw blood because this man had walked in with a promise to fix her mistakes before they could sink in, and she feels like drowning in him.

One of his hands comes up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she melts into his palm, steeling herself in the heat of his skin, ending her hesitation with the weight of his kiss on her lips.  She drags her nails over his shoulders, raking them down his back as his arms loop around her again, crushing her against the counter as he fills her mouth with moans.

There’s a moment where the world blurs, and one moment Rey is aware of the counter’s edge almost painfully cutting into the under of her ribs, and the next she’s falling against a plush mattress lined in dark satin sheets.  The lights are off, but a massive window open to the skyline lets a glow of pale-white and city ambiance trickle it, dimply illuminating sharp furniture and heavy woods. 

She reaches behind herself, unclasping the bra before tossing it aside.  Sighing deeply, she sprawls out across the bed, feeling the threads beneath her skin, cool and sleek to her feverish body.  Moaning softly, she opens her eyes as a shadow crosses her vision, and the light from the window casts him like a dream.

Ren looms above her, shirtless, pants sagging from his hips, his eyes raking over her—naked save the pearls, of course.  The heaviness of his stare sinks into her soul, and Rey bites lightly at her lower lip, sitting up to ease his trousers to his knees.  He steps out of them, pushing the silk material of his boxers with them, and Rey does her absolute best not to let the naked sight of him completely overwhelm her.

Of course, though, it’s nearly impossible to consider anything else: Ren is a built man, his towering height complimenting the reality of his muscular physique.  He’s toned from head to toe, hardly bulging like a body builder, but his form reminds Rey of the definition soldiers maintain.  There are a few marks she can see in the faint light of the room that make her wonder, the smooth pale-pink of healed scars dotting his torso, one lining the left side of his ribs, wrapping around toward his hip.

She reaches out, skimming her fingers over these marks, these pieces of Ren that she hadn’t expected to bear witness to, yet their exposure feels intimate and surreal.  She traces the vague ones, small and slight, that remind her childhood accidents—falling from trees, crashing a bicycle, rough-housing and eating the floor.  And then there are the deeper ones, like that against his side, and another that trails over the curve of his bicep and into his shoulder, cutting and angry, fanning out like shattered glass.

Not without her own imperfections, Rey allows herself the small moment to admire the scars, the hard lines of muscle and tension, the cool and pale pallor of Ren’s flesh.  Words and questions bubble behind her teeth, and she wants to ask, or guess, their history and nature.  But she is content to look, to touch, to wonder in her own mind what kind of trouble this mysterious and inquisitive man got into during his youth.

Rey presses her fingers to these, feeling the subtle different in their texture from the rest of him, before examining them with her mouth and teeth, biting harder where the scar tissue is thicker, and Ren is panting uncontrollably above her, his cock hanging thick between his thighs.  Lifting her gaze to his, there’s a moment that passes between them, silent other than his moaning, her breathing, and Rey peppers a handful of kisses up his throat before claiming his mouth for her own.

He holds her there, fingers weaving through her hair before he pulls away, reaching passed her to the side table beside the bed.  Watching him fumble through it, Rey trails her fingers along his side, thumbing the spaces between his ribs until he straightens, and they vanish.  In his hand she can see the gleam of a wrapper, and a smaller packet of what she assumes is lube.

Ren goes to tear it open, but Rey closes her hand around his, keeping him from pressing the corner between his teeth. 

“May I?”  She asks, and he grins.

The condom is in her hand at once, and she opens it slowly, delicately freeing the rubber from its packaging.  It’s slick, scentless, and she flattens her hand against his chest before pushing him down onto his back.  Ren lets out a breath with a quiet laugh, reclining into a small mound of pillows, and Rey slowly straddles his knees.

 She tells herself that the atmosphere of their situation is painstakingly unfair to the physique of Kylo Ren.  She has half a mind to get up, turn on every light, and soak in the tangle of limbs, the sweep of his hair, the Adonis-perfection of him.  But she remains, hot and wet, her sex brushing against his thigh as she reaches out and gives him a slow, steady stroke.  And of course he moans beneath her, a tremor racing through her body that she can feel against her cunt.  She strokes him again.

For a man of his stature, she isn’t at all surprised by his girth.  He’s thicker than the two fingers he used earlier on her, but hardly so large that she would feel the need to be afraid.  If anything, the slight glisten at the head, the swell of a vein along the underside of his shaft makes her mouth water, her own desire seize, and it’s with trembling fingers that she pinches the tip of the condom, rolling it down onto him.

At some point, he’d already opened the lube, and he slowly squeezes its contents onto his cock, some spilling over Rey’s fingers.  Smirking, she strokes him, spreading and slicking him until his breath is coming in short and uneven hitches.  Bringing a hand between her own legs, she smears the excess against her folds, still wet and sensitive from earlier. 

Sliding a finger into herself, Rey moans deeply, fucking herself quickly with it until Ren’s hands are grabbing for her, pulling her forward.  She yelps, laughing as he catches the corner of her mouth with his own, and her knees are pressed into the mattress on either side of his waist.  Her cunt rubs along his length, the head of him gliding against her clit, and she gasps as his tongue fills her mouth.

“Ren,” she says, her voice breaking under a breath as he pins a bite to the underside of her jaw.

“Kylo,” he corrects, and fire fills her center.

“Kylo,” she pronounces it slowly, letting the oh trail off like the end of a prayer, and he grunts into her skin, rolling his hips.

“Again,” he mutters, and Rey moans deeply, tilting her forehead against his temple, rocking into his rhythm, feeling the tip of his cock pressing slowly into her.

“Kylo.”  She puts more of a moan behind it, and his hands hold her hips so tightly she gasps under the weight.  “Kylo.”

“Rey—” he pleads, his lips brushing her cheek.  She arches her back, rolling her hips to sink little by little down onto him.

He feels and fits differently than anyone else she’s ever been with, filling her in a way that almost leaves her breathless.  The first thing she becomes aware of is that, though her husband is an equally impressive individual, he isn’t quite as long as Ren, and just when she thinks there can’t be any more of him, he slides deeper into her.  Her legs are trembling, her abdomen tightening and her hands seek purchase first in the sheets, before clawing their way to his shoulder, one eventually fisting into his hair as he ravages her throat.

She’s gasping, stars filtering over her eyes as a pulsing beats a steady rhythm against her walls, and she’s not sure if it’s her heartbeat or his, but it permeates through her body, dancing along her nerves and buzzing in her ears.  Moaning loudly, Rey presses herself to Ren, grinding her hips in short, stuttered, circular motions, unable to bring herself to a full movement but needing something more.

There’s a need that fills her to ride him, to sit straight and sink down on him and take him for all he’s worth; but there’s an equal desire to be smothered by his massiveness, to feel him covering her every inch, head to toe, to be pinned down and completely ruined by him.  And there are a thousand different ways she can imagine being fucked by him, and a thousand more where this night can last forever.  Rey, swiveling her hips, planting her hands on his chest and rocking into him, is absolutely certain that this is exactly what she wants.

He shifts, bringing his legs up a little before prompting her to lean back.  It takes a moment of careful adjusting, repositioning herself on him, but his knees support her, and she widens the spread of her thighs.  Dipping her head back, she moans, working in tandem with his thrusts to feel him taking every part of her, his fingers and palms skirting against her skin.  She can feel him wanting to touch, to claim and mark, a pulsing in her gut beating in time to a mantra that thrums in her blood.

  Dragging her nails up her front, Rey grips and twists at her breast, eyes hooded and heavy but locked with Ren’s, who refuses to look away from her even to blink.  His lips are parted, occasionally letting out a groan or a sigh.  She dips her head, letting her hair fall around her face as she rolls the nipple between her fingers, pulling and pinching at it, clenching her walls around his cock.

Pleasure courses and rolls in waves through her, consuming her as heat licks its way through her sex, spiraling around her core and racing up her spine.  Gasping, Rey arches off of his knees, grinding hard against Ren’s hips, a hand sliding along her leg as fingers gently brush against her clit.

She twitches, moaning breathlessly as she watches Ren stroke circles against her, his eyes on her face as a smirk twists his mouth.  He shifts, sitting up slowly to kiss her, his thumb working the bud of nerves as he caresses her cheek.  Mewling into his mouth, Rey tangles her fingers into his hair, shivering as pleasure wracks her like electricity.

“Kylo,” she begs, clenching around him again, rolling her hips. 

He breathes against her jaw, his arms circling her as they roll, and she’s pressed into the cool sheets and pillows, her legs locked around his waist.  He thrusts, sliding deep and hard into her, and Rey clings to him as she wails, pearls heavy and hot against her throat. 

“Beautiful,” Ren whispers into the hollow of her neck, nipping where her shoulder meets, and Rey mumbles incoherently as the edges of her vision swirl, shadows and streams of light melting together.  But Ren’s eyes are bright, and she wraps her arms around him in a desperate move to be closer, to feel him against every inch of her.

His hands roam freely now, fingers leaving invisible lacerations that cut deep beneath her skin into the fabric of her being, and Rey wonders if the marks will remain a part of her existence forever.  She thinks, taking him with each thrust and touch and kiss, that she'll never be the same; she'll never fall into bed with pleasure on her tongue without thinking of this night, of the attention she's garnered or the affection that blossoms in her chest.  When Ren kisses her, hot and sweet, with something she dares not name, she knowingly reciprocates the sentiment, clinging to him as if her very life may depend upon it.

She’s close again, the fire building and saturating her walls.  Her muscles clench, nerves screaming as pleasure soaks them like acid; she trembles in his hold, tightening her legs around his waist to the point that he can't even thrust, and her moans are muffled against his mouth, her teeth digging into his tongue and lower lip in a sloppy kiss.  She seizes, clenched around him, as her orgasm overwhelms her in a flurry of white and static, his face and name and soul imprinted into her body and mind.

Panting, Rey trembles as Ren grinds his hips, the friction of his body against her pulling wrecked whimpers from her abused lips, and she feels him jerk and groan into her skin, heat filling her sex as he comes.  There's a moment where she lets herself imagine what the sensation would be like without rubber, but it dies quickly as he kisses her again, pulling out slowly.

The world is a haze of grey light and shadow, and she's catching her breath as Ren disposes of the condom, disappearing into dark for a handful of moments.  When he returns, he has water, and a cool cloth.  He hands the glass to her, letting her drink slowly before the cotton drapes over her thigh.  She shivers, moaning into the water as Ren traces it against her skin, cleaning her slowly, delicately, of their sweat and her release.

Swallowing, she sighs, relaxing into the pillows, before Ren takes the cup away.  “Thank you,” she mumbles, smiling.

He smiles in return, humming before vanishing once more.  Stretching slowly, she trails her fingers against the sheets, reaching up and tucking her hands under the pillows, reclining further into them.  The bed dips, and Ren slides up next to her, kissing along her torso and throat, before planting a chaste kiss against her mouth.

Moaning faintly, she palms his cheek, her thumb tracing circles below his eye, her opposite hand threading through the thick waves of his dark hair.  He presses his mouth to her jaw, her mouth, the tip of her nose, and over each eye until she’s giggling in the dark, tangling their legs together.  Ren’s arms encompass her, holding her close, their foreheads pressed together as she strokes the nape of his neck.

Silence falls between them, and Rey nestles closer to Ren’s massive frame as the cool, comforting blanket of darkness thickens, the grey light of the city beyond his window fading.  So close like this, she can feel his heart beating against her skin, and in a handful of breaths there is a single, steady rhythm pulsing.  It’s quiet, rocking her like a lullaby, and the warmth of Ren’s mouth against her skin is the last thing she feels before slipping under.

It’s more like blinking though, the heaviness of their night leaving her without memorable dreams to wake up to.  When her eyes open again, the night-lights have washed away to the pre-dawn of grey mist rolling in from the port, and Ren is still tangled around her, and her around him, with his head buried against her throat, one of her hands in his hair, the other palmed against his shoulder.

She can’t see his face, but the serenity of his hold on her, the cradle she has him in, brings a gentle rush of warmth to her.  She smiles, tipping forward to kiss his hair, fingers stroking the pattern of the scar that sprawls over his shoulder and along his back.  In the waxing light of the early morning, she can see birth marks dotting his skin, and she maps them like a constellation with her fingertips.  He is massive, the expanse of his shoulders and back endless, his bent legs still longer than hers against the bed. 

He dwarfs her still as she holds him, and she smooths his hair away from his temple, trailing her fingers along his hairline.  In the quiet like this, she is reminded of her husband, of the way he wraps her up and keeps her tucked safe.  Ren, fast asleep, bears an air of innocence unlike the enigmatic confidence he’d fostered during their first meeting, and she thinks it’s only right, only fair, that she keeps him safe, even if only in this moment.  She hardly knows him, cannot even begin to fathom the history of his scars or the guarded dark of his eyes, but seeing it all melted away soothes any lingering concerns.

A hum escapes with a breath, and the grey light of the waking day brightens little by little.  Glancing to it, taking in the city as it breathes with mist rolling between buildings, Rey swallows the lump in her throat.  Her tension and uncertainty has abated, but her heart twists at the growing light.  She’ll have to go home, return to her husband, and live with this only in memory.

Rey remains for a long while, drawing patterns between scars and birthmarks, imagining the spaces between his vertebrae and ribs as valleys, and the round of his shoulders as mountains.  She thinks of the future, tracing the diagram of her shop against the back of his neck, remembering the check with her name on it and the prospect of rebuilding, moving forward, becoming great.  And she remembers her husband, the hard line of his mouth when she agreed, the clench of his jaw when she left their apartment. 

She knows she has Ren’s word, but she gnaws her lip, her thumb skimming against a mark nestled below his shoulder blade.  She hasn’t decided whether she’ll say anything.

Combing her fingers through his hair again, she feels Ren shift in her arms, his breath shallower as consciousness trickles into the small of his back, along his legs and arms.  His hands twitch, and flex against her sides, fingers stretching and cupping her frame.  She tilts her head back to look at him, his hair swept over his eyes as he blearily regards her.

There’s a moment where he blinks, recognition filtering through the brown depths, and he smiles.  “Hello.”

She snorts, pushing his hair from his face.  “Good morning.  Sleep well?”

He huffs, blinking slowly.  “Yes.  You?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.  It’s honest, even if her rest was brief.  Ren smiles, bowing his head back into her shoulder for a moment.  Rey glances to the window again, the grey blanket lifting closer to white, and she knows the sun is not far behind.  “It’s almost dawn.”

Ren stiffens in her hold, his fingers momentarily digging into her sides, but before she can speak again he relaxes.  Lifting his head, he regards her in the dimness of the room, his gaze impenetrably distant.  Rey breathes, staring back, searching his face for any betrayal of his thoughts, but the mask is thick and unyielding.  When she opens her mouth to speak, Ren only shakes his head, and the cold in his eye disappears at once.

“I imagine you’d like to shower?”  He offers, untangling his limbs from hers.  Cool air kisses the places he’s abandoned, and Rey sits up.

“Only if you’re joining me,” she says pointedly.  Try as he might, she will not let him hide.  Her words pull a small smile from him as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and he smooths his hair back.

“You’re—unbelievable.”

“Why?”  She frowns, brows knitting together, and the gleam in his eye shakes her resolve.

“You’re not… obligated, you know that right?”  Ren chooses his words carefully, glancing at her over his shoulder, and Rey tilts her head, eyes narrowing.

“I know,” she holds.  Ren sighs.

“The one night—it’s over?”

“The sun’s not up yet,” she says simply, sliding off the bed.  Reaching up, she unclasps the pearls, letting them rest against the side table.  “If you don’t want to join me, that’s your choice.”

She’s circling the bed, and his hand comes out to her wrist, halting her in mid-step.

“Wait,” he breathes, and she feels his head press to her back as he wraps an arm around her waist, holding her there.  “I’m sorry.  You surprised me, is all.”

“How so?”  Ren sighs again.

“I didn’t think you’d want anything else.”

“At what point did my interest in our affair seem to wane?  If I was concerned about the ‘one night’, I would have left while you were sleeping,” she feels him tense, his fingers pressing firmly to her hip.  “I didn’t, because I wanted to stay.  I would like it if you would join me.”

Ren hesitates, and Rey is ready to pull away when his lips brush against her back, his breath hot against her skin.  She sighs, palming a hand over his fingers, lacing them briefly.  His knees brush her legs as he stands, both arms enveloping her.  He dips his head, kissing her shoulder while she leans into him, and Rey relishes in the moment while they have it.

But they cannot linger, they know this, and Rey hesitantly eases herself from his arms, keeping their fingers laced as she leads him from the bed.  He follows her, guiding her with a brush of his arm to a door closest to the massive window that opens into a large en-suite.  Grey tiles line the floors, with a charcoal fronted vanity and marble countertops.  There’s a massive mirror that spans the wall, flanked by sconces dusted with gloss.  There’s a wall of glass opposite the door, a rainfall shower head fixed into the ceiling. 

Rey allows a smile, glancing at Ren over her shoulder.  “Impressive.”

“Glad you approve,” he muses, and she crosses to the door, slipping into the shower.  She hears Ren rustling in a drawer behind her, but her gaze remains fixed on the knobs embedded in the wall.  She gives them a twist, water trickling from above in a wave that starts cold and quickly warms.  Steam floods the space, her hair soaked and matting to her neck and shoulders.

The door opens and shuts behind her, Ren’s hands taking purchase at her hips as his lips grace her temple.   Letting go of a breath, she reaches up to curl her fingers into his hair, shifting enough to kiss him.  He moans into her mouth, pulling away briefly.

“Do you have any intention of getting clean?”  She smirks, turning to face him, water rolling in rivers down her shoulders and breasts.

“Maybe later.” 

He grins, kissing her again, hands curled at her waist as she loops her arms around his neck.  His tongue traces the seam of her lips, splitting them, and she shudders at the taste.  The wine is dulled, but there’s still that faint touch of red fruit, heartier than berries, tangy and sweet.  They break, breathing deeply as she licks the curve of his upper lip, his mouth peppering her in kisses along her jaw, against her ear, and his body is pressing hers to the wall of the shower.  He’s thickening, the swell of his cock rubbing into her thigh, and Rey huffs a delighted moan.

“Well that was quick,” she teases, and Ren’s eyes darken.

“Can you blame me?”

“Mm, no,” Rey moans, tilting her head back into the wall as his teeth nip at her throat.  “I am just, you know, so beautiful, and all.”  It’s a joke, loosely rolling off her tongue, but Ren’s fingers delve further into her hips, his teeth scraping hard against her skin.

“Damn right you are,” he chimes, licking a stream of water from her clavicle. 

Her heart is pounding beneath his touch as Ren lowers his head, kissing and nipping lightly at her breasts.  Raking her fingers through his hair, Rey arches off the wall, sighing as the sting of his teeth melts beneath the heat of the shower.  Pleasure bubbles and builds, and she swallows the lump in her throat as his tongue stripes over her nipple.

“Kylo,” she breathes, hooking her lip with her teeth.  He licks her again, nipping the bud, and she lets out a hitched moan.  “Harder.”

Ren bites at her again, pulling the nipple with his teeth before letting it spring back.  Water rolls down her front, pooling at their feet. 

“Again.”

“Rey—”

“Did I say stop?” 

The look he gives her sets a spark in her core, and when he bows his head it’s to breathe against her skin, his mouth enveloping her breast.  His teeth sink hard, surrounding the nipple, hollowing his cheeks to suck, and Rey’s knees nearly buckle from beneath her.  Fire consumes her at once, bliss spilling off her tongue in stuttered cries.  Back arcing from the wall, Rey gasps deeply, water sputtering from her lips as Ren pulls off. 

The heat of the water doesn’t help the sensitivity, and the skin is reddened with promises of dark discoloring.  His teeth marks are deep, swelling, and Rey brings a hand up to skim over the surface, shivering as it tingles and burns.  She barely has a moment to breathe before Ren bows his head, mimicking his attention to her untouched breast, and she feels herself coming close to slipping from the wall, ecstasy flooding her core.

Tangling her fingers into his hair, she drops her opposite hand between her legs, her folds slick from arousal, and Ren shifts to palm a hand over her own.  The added pressure sends stars across her vision, and her feet skid against the wet tiles as Ren manipulates the rhythm.  Her release is quick and consuming, soaking her nerves in a kind of passion that scalds and burrows deep.

“Kylo,” she warns, her voice breaking.  She’s jelly-limbed but needing, and the darkness in his eyes surely reflects her own.  He kisses her bruising skin, claiming her mouth quickly with his own before retreating to the shower door.  Watching him, panting, she sees him reach to the counter beyond for a small blue packet, its square shape instantly recognizable.  Brushing her fingers against her cunt again, she dips her head into the spray, the water running hot against her feverish skin. 

The edges of the world are vaguely fuzzy, and when Ren returns to her, it’s with a quick, hard kiss, his body pressing hers to the wall once more as his hands guide her legs up and around his waist, one at a time as he supports her.  He staggers his feet slightly, shifting to hold her and position himself, and she sinks onto him at once.

The sensation of being filled again, so soon after before wrecked the night before, causes her brow to furrow, a small wince crossing her face.  It fades, her body relaxing as she clenches and molds around him.  He exhales against her shoulder, his palms spread and holding her thighs as he rocks into her. 

Ren’s thrusts are slow, and shallow, to begin with, experimental with the risk of the water and the unforgiving texture of tile against her back and beneath his feet.  But a handful of moments pass, a tentative kiss is shared, and Ren’s thrusts are full and deep, just on an edge of painful that makes Rey grit her teeth. 

She loops her arms over his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as he fucks into her.  Water rushes and pools around them, steam rolling off their skin and billowing in a heavy mist around their faces.  Gasping, Rey clenches around him, able to do little else other that scratch and bite and kiss him every chance she has, his fingers dipping so hard into the curve of her thighs that she’s sure she’ll be bruised before this is over.

And she doesn’t want to think of it—the end.  The encroaching dawn that slowly lights the bathroom from an overhead skylight only adds an extra edge to his thrusts and her kisses, and her arms tangle tighter around his shoulders.  The tether that has so strongly buzzed between them almost seems tangible, like an extension from her center to his that she can just barely see in the steam and sweat.

Biting her lip, she brings her hands to either side of his face, their foreheads pressed together as he thrusts.  Beneath the surface of her skin, there’s a thrumming that falters from the rhythm of her heart, an extra beat, a presence that she can feel from him.  Blinking back drops of water, she looks to him and finds that he’s staring, pupils blown wide, a kind of apprehension in his mouth and between his brows, and she nods.

Whatever it is, the desperation, the clawing, coveting insatiable link that grows solid and firm is lingering, festering within their hearts, and the panic of don’t let this be the end in his eyes only proves that he feels it, too.

She mouths his name, pulling him in to kiss, muffling the cry that would have carried confessions as she tightens and comes.  Her eyes are shut but the world rings and flares white, pinpricks scouring her from head to curled toe, and Ren slams her so hard into the wall her lower back aches.

Clutching tightly to him, Rey lets out a quiet groan as his thrusts lull to gentle rolls, and he slows to a stop, keeping her pinned to the shower wall.  The water still runs hot, scouring against her nipples, sizzling where his fingers are digging.  The weight and pressure bubble heavy and thick under her skin, and she wishes she would have asked, or begged, for more of them.  But she knows he was being kind, considerate of the reality that she is not his.

He begins to move, making to pull out, but she tightens her legs, and holds him there.  Not yet.

He helps her back into her dress, zipping the ends shut along the center of her back.  Her hair, damp but clean, is twisted into a loose braid that hangs over her shoulder, and she ignores the blush that fans across her cheeks when she turns to face him, her thighs and cunt stinging with her movements.

Ren is dressed simply in black slacks and a white button up, the collar undone, his wet hair framing his face.  Reaching up, Rey brushes a few stray locks from his eyes, before cupping his cheek.  He leans into her touch, eyes closing briefly, his expression relaxing slowly.

“I should go,” she says, wanting to shun the world away, but the clock nearby reads a starting nine-forty-seven, and she’s already missed three calls from home. 

“I know,” he replies, his eyes opening slowly.  The morning light comes in, gleaming off the depths, and Rey cannot help but take a moment to stare, to marvel, and let herself drift in them.  They are warm, and deep, bearing both pain and admiration, a cool resolve framing his face and settling into his jaw, and he brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers.  “I know.” 

She nods, leaning in to kiss him again, soft and sweet.  Though her gut is twisting, once more uncertain though for very different reasons than when she first came here, her heart is steady and sure.  She can feel him smiling against her mouth, and she steels her desires to keep from lingering any longer.

“About your offer,” she says, her hand on his chest.  “I’ll need to sway my husband, but I believe we’ll accept it.”

She chooses to ignore the way his gaze hardens at the mention of her spouse, and he nods.  “We can arrange a meeting, go over the details.”

She smiles.  “We’ll see each other soon, then.”

He swallows, his smile wavering, and he nods. 

Pulling away, Rey walks across the open spread of his apartment, her heels clicking with each step.  Tension builds and burrows in the spaces between her bones and nerves, but she keeps her head high and jaw clenched.  Reaching for the door, her fingers skim the metal of the handle, before his voice stops her again.

“Rey?”

Turning, she looks back at him, morning light haloing around his frame.  She can’t quite see his face, but she doesn’t need to.

“I…”

Smiling, she nods. 

“I know, Kylo.”