Kylo's knees are shaking, and the hand pressed against her throat is sending sparks of Force through her body. Her system is overloading with sensation, the last gasp of oxygen in her lungs, nerves burning themselves up to keep her alive. She can feel her Force centering itself at her root chakra, energy gathering between her legs.
"Take that fucking helmet off and look me in the eye," Hux sneers. Her precious braids are falling down over her face, her eyes bloodshot and eerie yellow-green. Her collar is ripped and wrinkled, green-purple bruises starting to bruise around her throat.
Kylo raises trembling hands to her helmet. It releases slowly, with a hiss that mirrors her gasping choke for air. "Let go," she croaks. "Let go now." She knows what Hux will see, has to look at it in the mirror every day--the dark eyes like her mother's, the sharp nose and cheeks like her father's.
"No. I don't think so." Hux peers into Kylo's eyes. Kylo wonders what she's searching for. Humanity? Compassion? Something else that Hux lacks? Or is she just waiting for the moment when Kylo's eyes go blank and unfocused?
Hux presses the heel of one hand into the hollow of Kylo's throat, using one hand to wrap around her neck now. Not choking her anymore, but pinning her against the wall. Kylo can feel the pressure of her hand, the squeeze of the fingers that forces her chin down.
"Who is the boss on this ship?" Hux barks. "It's not you, Kylo Ren. Who. Is. It?"
Kylo stretches her lips over her teeth. It's barely a smile. "One who is greater than you," she rasps.
There's a loud crack and a stinging on the side of her cheek, sending prickles of numbing heat exploding through her face. Hux is shaking out her hand. "Wrong answer. If you were a Stormtrooper, I'd have Phasma send you to reconditioning." The pain is trickling down her body, swirling low and settling, and her hips jut forward with the aftershocks of sensation.
"You can't do anything to me," Kylo growls.
"I can do a lot." Hux lifts her hand. Kylo tilts her head to receive the next blow. Maybe the pain will clear her mind, give her the strength she needs to break free of whatever Hux thinks she's doing to her. Hux turns her hand and trails the backs of her fingers down Kylo's cheek. The touch is soft, gentle, like something Kylo's mother might do to lull her to sleep. She wants to weep; she wants to spit in Hux's face. "I think I've found a way to show you who's boss," Hux says in a strange, sing-song voice. "We don't want to hurt our Knight, do we?"
It's as if the Force itself is guiding Hux's hand down Kylo's body, lifting up the skirt of her robe. This is a kind of violation Kylo has never experienced, something gentle and gradual compared to endless lightsaber sparring or harsh intrusions into the mind. Hux's hand is moving between her thighs. She arches into Hux's fingers, desperately needing more pressure, more friction.
"Don't you dare move." Hux presses the heel of her other hand against Kylo's throat. She's stroking Kylo's neck now, fingers dancing over Kylo's collarbones; the restraint is just a symbol now, something for Kylo to pretend to struggle against. "You're going to take what I give you, is that understood?"
Kylo swallows against Hux's hand. "You know I can take what I want," she says, but her voice is breathy, unconvincing.
"You can't right now," Hux gloats. "You're pathetic. Refusing to surrender." She touches her lips to Kylo's cheek, runs the tip of her tongue along Kylo's ear. It's as though Hux breathes fire against the side of her face, making her mind go up in a shower of sparks. "Should I just keep claiming more ground until you give in? Or will I have to ruin every inch of you before we're done?"
Fill -- Wings Off Flies, 2/?
"Take that fucking helmet off and look me in the eye," Hux sneers. Her precious braids are falling down over her face, her eyes bloodshot and eerie yellow-green. Her collar is ripped and wrinkled, green-purple bruises starting to bruise around her throat.
Kylo raises trembling hands to her helmet. It releases slowly, with a hiss that mirrors her gasping choke for air. "Let go," she croaks. "Let go now." She knows what Hux will see, has to look at it in the mirror every day--the dark eyes like her mother's, the sharp nose and cheeks like her father's.
"No. I don't think so." Hux peers into Kylo's eyes. Kylo wonders what she's searching for. Humanity? Compassion? Something else that Hux lacks? Or is she just waiting for the moment when Kylo's eyes go blank and unfocused?
Hux presses the heel of one hand into the hollow of Kylo's throat, using one hand to wrap around her neck now. Not choking her anymore, but pinning her against the wall. Kylo can feel the pressure of her hand, the squeeze of the fingers that forces her chin down.
"Who is the boss on this ship?" Hux barks. "It's not you, Kylo Ren. Who. Is. It?"
Kylo stretches her lips over her teeth. It's barely a smile. "One who is greater than you," she rasps.
There's a loud crack and a stinging on the side of her cheek, sending prickles of numbing heat exploding through her face. Hux is shaking out her hand. "Wrong answer. If you were a Stormtrooper, I'd have Phasma send you to reconditioning." The pain is trickling down her body, swirling low and settling, and her hips jut forward with the aftershocks of sensation.
"You can't do anything to me," Kylo growls.
"I can do a lot." Hux lifts her hand. Kylo tilts her head to receive the next blow. Maybe the pain will clear her mind, give her the strength she needs to break free of whatever Hux thinks she's doing to her. Hux turns her hand and trails the backs of her fingers down Kylo's cheek. The touch is soft, gentle, like something Kylo's mother might do to lull her to sleep. She wants to weep; she wants to spit in Hux's face. "I think I've found a way to show you who's boss," Hux says in a strange, sing-song voice. "We don't want to hurt our Knight, do we?"
It's as if the Force itself is guiding Hux's hand down Kylo's body, lifting up the skirt of her robe. This is a kind of violation Kylo has never experienced, something gentle and gradual compared to endless lightsaber sparring or harsh intrusions into the mind. Hux's hand is moving between her thighs. She arches into Hux's fingers, desperately needing more pressure, more friction.
"Don't you dare move." Hux presses the heel of her other hand against Kylo's throat. She's stroking Kylo's neck now, fingers dancing over Kylo's collarbones; the restraint is just a symbol now, something for Kylo to pretend to struggle against. "You're going to take what I give you, is that understood?"
Kylo swallows against Hux's hand. "You know I can take what I want," she says, but her voice is breathy, unconvincing.
"You can't right now," Hux gloats. "You're pathetic. Refusing to surrender." She touches her lips to Kylo's cheek, runs the tip of her tongue along Kylo's ear. It's as though Hux breathes fire against the side of her face, making her mind go up in a shower of sparks. "Should I just keep claiming more ground until you give in? Or will I have to ruin every inch of you before we're done?"