Warnings: major dubcon of the 'sex pollen' variety, hate sex, unprotected sex, violence, mild angst.
--
He disarms her. She throws a punch. He hunches over with a clipped wheeze and makes a grab for her. His fingers catch in her hair. She hears the leather of his gloves creak as he yanks her head back, and she throws her hands around his throat, drives her knee up into his gut with everything she has. It’s not enough. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he shoves her bodily up against a nearby plinth, hard enough the breath is stolen from her lungs.
“Let go,” she commands.
“You first,” he sneers.
She digs her nails into his neck in response. He grunts and tightens his grip on her, impossibly strong and painful. Something stirs inside of her then. Residual anger, maybe; or something else. She can’t pinpoint it, so she smooths it away.
“I’m unimpressed by your showing, scavenger,” he says. “I thought Skywalker would’ve taught you so much more.”
She grits her teeth. Replies whirl in her mind: taunts over patricide, or the undeserved Jedi-killer moniker of his, but the words catch in her throat. His gaze is intense, almost too much, but that’s not what keeps her silent. There’s -- something...
Her eyes drift from his to the scar bisecting his face, and then, unwillingly, lower, to his parted lips. Heat spikes in her stomach and she sucks in a surprised breath, confused. His hips are pressed against hers, wedging her in place, and, though this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this sort of spot, this is the first time her body is aware of his in such a way. That unknown something from before flares up inside of her then, and she realizes with a sinking feeling that, not for the first time, she might be in over her head.
Is it some remnants of an adrenaline-fueled fight? Theirs was a messy one from the start. They snapped and snarled as they twisted together in a frenzied duel, neither party willing to give ground, from the moment they made contact on this planet. But it was she who flushed him out from the humid jungle and to the temple they now stand, she who pressed so hard for the win. She can’t explain her sudden desire to -- to not win. To submit. But it’s happening.
Her fingers relax. A red bruise is already forming a ring around his pale neck. She doesn’t start to panic until Kylo Ren releases her hair and smooths his fingers across her crown, almost as if he’s apologizing for having held her in place at all.
With an involuntary shudder, she realizes she likes it, his body and hands on her.
She wants him.
“What are you doing to me?” she growls. There are more Force-abilities than her master taught her in her short time on Ahch-To, she knows, but this heat -- a slow simmer deep in her bones … it’s unlike anything she’s heard of, or experienced. She’s supposed to be immune from this type of control, her will as strong as durasteel. Then how?
He frowns, but doesn’t pull away from her, though she feels him straining to do so. “Not every misfortune of yours has been orchestrated by me.”
She shoves her hands against his chest -- that is, she tries to. Instead, she ends up grabbing the folds of his outer garment. “Really? Because I’m not doing this!”
His hand slides down to cup her neck. Her heart skips. For a moment, she imagines him throttling her while she stands, defenseless, clutching at him -- but he merely strokes his thumb across her jugular.
Heat throbs between her legs.
“I’ve heard of instances like these,” he says, though Rey has the feeling his words are more for himself than her. “Force users compelled by the Force itself to… ”
She swallows, knowing exactly what he’s going to say next. It’s impossible for her not to. His body language speaks volumes, and her reactions to them doubly so. Still, she needs to ask: “To what?”
“To copulate,” he grits out.
That’s when she realizes he’s hard against her, and perhaps has been for a while. She starts to tremble. The stone her back is cold, leaching the heat from her skin, but Kylo Ren is an inferno at her front. She flexes her fingers. A voice in the deep, dark part of her consciousness whispers that his words are true -- that it would be easiest to obey the call -- but she clutches at the singular tendril keeping her grounded in place.
“You’re lying,” she says, but her conviction sounds weak even to her own ears. “What you said… it can’t be real… I don’t believe you.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
He kisses her. It’s rough, rougher than any kiss she’s received before, but it lights her aflame all the same. She gasps into it, made dizzy and needy by the simple act; it’s like a floodgate has burst open, every doubt she was grasping for sliding between her fingers like water. She knows what she wants. It’s what she’s always wanted from him.
“Easy, scavenger,” he murmurs against her lips.
She bites down on his lower lip, hard. He moans, a broken breath she knows she wasn’t meant to hear. The sound is what snaps her resolve like a twig.
She scrabbles against him, pulling him down by the hair and ears to kiss him over and over, panting for breath in the scant breaks between each. She hitches her leg over his hip and arches her back, shoulder blades pressing into the plinth behind her for leverage as she grinds against him. His hands are restless, squeezing at her thigh, her hip, her back; dragging her towards him and positioning her body for his own pleasure, too.
A spark strikes up her spine. She’s close -- on the cusp of something great -- but what they’re doing isn’t enough to get her there. Her eyes flutter open. “I -- I need…” She chokes on another moan.
“I know,” he pants, and something shivers at the back of Rey’s mind. Something Kylo Ren said when they first met.
Don’t be afraid. I feel it, too.
They collapse onto the loam below.
Rey lands on her back, her head cradled by his forearm. They exchange a kiss just as urgent as their first before she tucks her knees against his sides and rolls them. The view from the top is divine, she decides. She smiles above him for a triumphant moment, but he changes the game quickly, and pins her on her back once more.
“Gloating doesn’t suit you,” she says, ripping the buckle clear off his belt with the force of her tug. “When this is over --”
“You’ll be glad to walk after I’m done with you.”
She rolls her eyes. “What’s that saying… put your coins where your mouth is?”
He does. After divesting her of her trousers, he buries his face between her legs. He alternates a strong tongue-stroke against her clit and a pulsing suck that has her squeezing her thighs around his ears and shoving a fist against her teeth to stifle her cries. She’s burning up under his clever ministrations, and nearly shatters completely when he slides his finger into her wet cunt. She tightens around him with a moan. He adds another finger.
“Oh stars,” she gasps and nearly bucks him off her -- would have, if not for the arm her threw across her hips to keep her in place.
He hums, and crooks his fingers, methodically massaging a spot inside of her that makes her drop her knees to the side and keen. She feels herself become impossibly wetter. She’s sure she’s dripping down his wrist by now.
He doesn’t let up. She’s trapped between a physical stimulation that is both too intense and not at all. She’s close, but it’s not enough. She wiggles against him, shoves her fingers into his hair and tries to guide him where she wants him the most, but nothing works. She can’t get there. All she’s done is work herself up. She swears at him, at herself, at the entire galaxy, the frustration of an elusive orgasm almost enough to break her into begging.
She drags in a breath. He wants her to beg, she thinks. He must. “Do you want me to ask for you?” she asks, voice wavering. “Because I won’t.”
She drags him up by the hair and swallows his protests with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. She yanks his trousers down, just enough to free his cock, and promptly shoves him onto his back. She climbs on top.
“Taking what you want,” he remarks. “You and I are so alike. Can’t you see that?”
“I’m nothing like you.”
She sinks down on him; hisses at the mild stretch. She gives herself only a moment to adjust when she’s fully seated before rocking up onto her knees. She meant to go slow and torture him in the same way he did her, but she can’t contend with his rolling thrusts and her overwhelming desire to come. She uses his chest for purchase, and undulates her hips, cants them until she’s reintroduced to that spot that had her crying out before. She drops her head and focuses on the heat building up at her spine.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realizes what they’re doing is -- unforgivable. They would not be able to recover from this. Not as everything in the galaxy currently stands. He wants to kill her. She -- she doesn’t know what she wants to do to him, but she knows she doesn’t stand for anything he does. They are not supposed to be rutting together like two animals into the jungle, frenzied and hurried and out of control. But they are.
And she doesn’t care.
He fits his hand between them, as if he knows exactly what she needs, and starts rubbing a circular pattern against her clit.
“Rey,” he says. It sounds like a command.
Her mouth drops open as she comes a breath later, the crest of the wave finally reached. She vaguely recognizes Kylo Ren grabbing her by the hips to drag her up and down on his cock as her cunt flutters around him, but the rest is -- glorious. White spots in her vision as she clenches her eyes shut, a pleasure unlike anything she’s ever felt singing through her veins like stardust.
She falls across his chest when it’s over, completely spent. She feels like a rag wrung through with water. She stares at the black folds of his robe between her fingers, wondering if or when she would feel disgusted with herself for agreeing to this.
FILL: Rey/Kylo Ren, Hatesex
Warnings: major dubcon of the 'sex pollen' variety, hate sex, unprotected sex, violence, mild angst.
--
He disarms her. She throws a punch. He hunches over with a clipped wheeze and makes a grab for her. His fingers catch in her hair. She hears the leather of his gloves creak as he yanks her head back, and she throws her hands around his throat, drives her knee up into his gut with everything she has. It’s not enough. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he shoves her bodily up against a nearby plinth, hard enough the breath is stolen from her lungs.
“Let go,” she commands.
“You first,” he sneers.
She digs her nails into his neck in response. He grunts and tightens his grip on her, impossibly strong and painful. Something stirs inside of her then. Residual anger, maybe; or something else. She can’t pinpoint it, so she smooths it away.
“I’m unimpressed by your showing, scavenger,” he says. “I thought Skywalker would’ve taught you so much more.”
She grits her teeth. Replies whirl in her mind: taunts over patricide, or the undeserved Jedi-killer moniker of his, but the words catch in her throat. His gaze is intense, almost too much, but that’s not what keeps her silent. There’s -- something...
Her eyes drift from his to the scar bisecting his face, and then, unwillingly, lower, to his parted lips. Heat spikes in her stomach and she sucks in a surprised breath, confused. His hips are pressed against hers, wedging her in place, and, though this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this sort of spot, this is the first time her body is aware of his in such a way. That unknown something from before flares up inside of her then, and she realizes with a sinking feeling that, not for the first time, she might be in over her head.
Is it some remnants of an adrenaline-fueled fight? Theirs was a messy one from the start. They snapped and snarled as they twisted together in a frenzied duel, neither party willing to give ground, from the moment they made contact on this planet. But it was she who flushed him out from the humid jungle and to the temple they now stand, she who pressed so hard for the win. She can’t explain her sudden desire to -- to not win. To submit. But it’s happening.
Her fingers relax. A red bruise is already forming a ring around his pale neck. She doesn’t start to panic until Kylo Ren releases her hair and smooths his fingers across her crown, almost as if he’s apologizing for having held her in place at all.
With an involuntary shudder, she realizes she likes it, his body and hands on her.
She wants him.
“What are you doing to me?” she growls. There are more Force-abilities than her master taught her in her short time on Ahch-To, she knows, but this heat -- a slow simmer deep in her bones … it’s unlike anything she’s heard of, or experienced. She’s supposed to be immune from this type of control, her will as strong as durasteel. Then how?
He frowns, but doesn’t pull away from her, though she feels him straining to do so. “Not every misfortune of yours has been orchestrated by me.”
She shoves her hands against his chest -- that is, she tries to. Instead, she ends up grabbing the folds of his outer garment. “Really? Because I’m not doing this!”
His hand slides down to cup her neck. Her heart skips. For a moment, she imagines him throttling her while she stands, defenseless, clutching at him -- but he merely strokes his thumb across her jugular.
Heat throbs between her legs.
“I’ve heard of instances like these,” he says, though Rey has the feeling his words are more for himself than her. “Force users compelled by the Force itself to… ”
She swallows, knowing exactly what he’s going to say next. It’s impossible for her not to. His body language speaks volumes, and her reactions to them doubly so. Still, she needs to ask: “To what?”
“To copulate,” he grits out.
That’s when she realizes he’s hard against her, and perhaps has been for a while. She starts to tremble. The stone her back is cold, leaching the heat from her skin, but Kylo Ren is an inferno at her front. She flexes her fingers. A voice in the deep, dark part of her consciousness whispers that his words are true -- that it would be easiest to obey the call -- but she clutches at the singular tendril keeping her grounded in place.
“You’re lying,” she says, but her conviction sounds weak even to her own ears. “What you said… it can’t be real… I don’t believe you.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
He kisses her. It’s rough, rougher than any kiss she’s received before, but it lights her aflame all the same. She gasps into it, made dizzy and needy by the simple act; it’s like a floodgate has burst open, every doubt she was grasping for sliding between her fingers like water. She knows what she wants. It’s what she’s always wanted from him.
“Easy, scavenger,” he murmurs against her lips.
She bites down on his lower lip, hard. He moans, a broken breath she knows she wasn’t meant to hear. The sound is what snaps her resolve like a twig.
She scrabbles against him, pulling him down by the hair and ears to kiss him over and over, panting for breath in the scant breaks between each. She hitches her leg over his hip and arches her back, shoulder blades pressing into the plinth behind her for leverage as she grinds against him. His hands are restless, squeezing at her thigh, her hip, her back; dragging her towards him and positioning her body for his own pleasure, too.
A spark strikes up her spine. She’s close -- on the cusp of something great -- but what they’re doing isn’t enough to get her there. Her eyes flutter open. “I -- I need…” She chokes on another moan.
“I know,” he pants, and something shivers at the back of Rey’s mind. Something Kylo Ren said when they first met.
Don’t be afraid. I feel it, too.
They collapse onto the loam below.
Rey lands on her back, her head cradled by his forearm. They exchange a kiss just as urgent as their first before she tucks her knees against his sides and rolls them. The view from the top is divine, she decides. She smiles above him for a triumphant moment, but he changes the game quickly, and pins her on her back once more.
“Gloating doesn’t suit you,” she says, ripping the buckle clear off his belt with the force of her tug. “When this is over --”
“You’ll be glad to walk after I’m done with you.”
She rolls her eyes. “What’s that saying… put your coins where your mouth is?”
He does. After divesting her of her trousers, he buries his face between her legs. He alternates a strong tongue-stroke against her clit and a pulsing suck that has her squeezing her thighs around his ears and shoving a fist against her teeth to stifle her cries. She’s burning up under his clever ministrations, and nearly shatters completely when he slides his finger into her wet cunt. She tightens around him with a moan. He adds another finger.
“Oh stars,” she gasps and nearly bucks him off her -- would have, if not for the arm her threw across her hips to keep her in place.
He hums, and crooks his fingers, methodically massaging a spot inside of her that makes her drop her knees to the side and keen. She feels herself become impossibly wetter. She’s sure she’s dripping down his wrist by now.
He doesn’t let up. She’s trapped between a physical stimulation that is both too intense and not at all. She’s close, but it’s not enough. She wiggles against him, shoves her fingers into his hair and tries to guide him where she wants him the most, but nothing works. She can’t get there. All she’s done is work herself up. She swears at him, at herself, at the entire galaxy, the frustration of an elusive orgasm almost enough to break her into begging.
She drags in a breath. He wants her to beg, she thinks. He must. “Do you want me to ask for you?” she asks, voice wavering. “Because I won’t.”
She drags him up by the hair and swallows his protests with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. She yanks his trousers down, just enough to free his cock, and promptly shoves him onto his back. She climbs on top.
“Taking what you want,” he remarks. “You and I are so alike. Can’t you see that?”
“I’m nothing like you.”
She sinks down on him; hisses at the mild stretch. She gives herself only a moment to adjust when she’s fully seated before rocking up onto her knees. She meant to go slow and torture him in the same way he did her, but she can’t contend with his rolling thrusts and her overwhelming desire to come. She uses his chest for purchase, and undulates her hips, cants them until she’s reintroduced to that spot that had her crying out before. She drops her head and focuses on the heat building up at her spine.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realizes what they’re doing is -- unforgivable. They would not be able to recover from this. Not as everything in the galaxy currently stands. He wants to kill her. She -- she doesn’t know what she wants to do to him, but she knows she doesn’t stand for anything he does. They are not supposed to be rutting together like two animals into the jungle, frenzied and hurried and out of control. But they are.
And she doesn’t care.
He fits his hand between them, as if he knows exactly what she needs, and starts rubbing a circular pattern against her clit.
“Rey,” he says. It sounds like a command.
Her mouth drops open as she comes a breath later, the crest of the wave finally reached. She vaguely recognizes Kylo Ren grabbing her by the hips to drag her up and down on his cock as her cunt flutters around him, but the rest is -- glorious. White spots in her vision as she clenches her eyes shut, a pleasure unlike anything she’s ever felt singing through her veins like stardust.
She falls across his chest when it’s over, completely spent. She feels like a rag wrung through with water. She stares at the black folds of his robe between her fingers, wondering if or when she would feel disgusted with herself for agreeing to this.
And if she is supposed to -- she doesn’t.
She closes her eyes.