PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED

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Comments

Fill: Kylo/Poe - noncon, fisting, atm 1/3

[(Anonymous)]

"General? General!"

Leia is deep into a tactical discussion when Pamich Nerro comes up to her, sounding panicked. Leia lets her hang for a few more seconds, then turns to her.

"What is it, ensign?" she snaps

Nerro swallows, but doesn’t recoil. "There's an encrypted feed coming in from the First Order, sir."

Leia follows her to the comms station and stands behind her seat as she authorizes the feed, let’s past some, but not all, their security.

She’s expecting the cold gaze of General Hux, perhaps one of the Senators the First Order has in their pocket. Perhaps Captain Phasma even.

What she sees was a full comms screen of Poe Dameron, locked in a torture chair. A flicker of cold recognition runs down her spine at the scene: a cold room on a Star Destroyer, empty except for the prisoner and a single chair for the torturer.

Poe doesn’t seem to be aware of the camera. His eyes, instead, glance around the room. He’s got a bruise over his left eye, over the whole left side of his face, and his temple is bloody. His lip is split and there’s more dried blood on his flight suit.

She notices they’ve taken his shoes.

"Commander!" she almost shouts into the comms, making Nerro flinch. There’s no response, but a door opens beyond the camera’s lens and she see Poe's eyes widen in abrupt horror.

"Commander," a mechanical voice says, and she knows that voice, down to her bones. The mechanical distortion is nothing to her.

"Shut it down," she orders Nerro, and she reaches over to cut the connection.

"I wouldn't if I were you." The mask of Kylo Ren appears in view, and Leia stays the ensign's hand.

"While your esteemed pilot can't hear you, I certainly can, and I think you'll want to watch the upcoming fun."

"This is sick," Leia says, "and unnecessary. Name your terms."

There's a laugh, and it makes Leia feel sicker than she already did. The other Resistance officers are moving closer now, wondering what the commotion is, and she wants to turn on them, snarl at them to get away. She glares, at least.

"Who are you talking to?" Poe's voice is hoarse, forced out of a throat that's been squeezed too hard for too long, ringed with bruises.

Kylo looks over his shoulder, mask expressionless, and considers.

"Who...are you filming me? Who are you talking too?" The panic in his voice is obvious. Leia tries to count how many days he might have already been there, in the hands of the First Order.

"Say hello to your General, Commander."

Leia feels her heart break at the flash of hope that flickers over Poe's face, giving way to wild rabbiting fear. His body jerks in the rack holding him.

“General, don't, please," he pleads.

"I said," snarls Ren, "say hello." His hand curls and Poe's eyes screw shut as he's choked, small noises crushed out of his throat.

"Shrink the feed!" Leia shouts. Poe's pain is huge in the hub, the high def display taking up a quarter of the wall.

"Oh, I think you all should stay for the show," Ren says, chuckling as he lets his hand fall. "Why not use some of that technology for a little entertainment now and then?”

Poe wheezes, eyes watering.

"You're a monster,” Leia says.

"You should know," Ren hisses. "If you stop watching this feed, if you stop broadcasting it, I'll kill him." Ren's lightsaber flares to life with a mere flick of his wrist.

It's hissing and popping is so familiar and alien at the same time. She can hear Poe suck in a breath, see the whites of his eyes.

"General, please, he's trying to get a locati--" Poe sputters, choking again.

"She's not an idiot, Commander," he says. He almost sounds fond, like he's speaking to a particularly dull housepet.

"Settle in, General," Ren says into the camera, and then he turns to face Poe.

-

Poe aches. He aches all over, muscles tight and blood sluggish from being trapped in one position for too long. He's anxious, has been ever since a droid entered the room and silently set itself up in a corner an hour ago.

There's a hole in his gums that he can't stop tonguing at -- he'd had a tooth filled with a toxin, for emergencies, for this particular emergency, and the first thing Ren had done was rip it out of his head using the Force. Poe knows there are other ways to die, one or two things he could still try.

But he's a coward. Poe doesn't want to die yet. He's escaped, improbably, once before, and that keeps him from biting through his tongue to choke on his own blood.

He's had long hours alone to think about it.

Ren entering his little torture room makes his stomach clench in fear. He'd been stronger at the beginning, the first days of his capture, but now he has to struggle against the instinct to ask for mercy. He knows what can come next.

Ignorance was more blissful than this.

Instead of looking at him, however, Ren fiddles with the droid, talks to it.

Poe knows one of his eardrums is blown -- he spent hours feeling the blood dribble out of his ear, so he can't tell what's being said until it's too late.

The General is watching this,he learns, is going to watch this, and he wants to cry. Instead, he gets choked, over and over, until Ren has had enough of talking to Leia and stalks over to him instead.

Ren waves his hand and the chair practically expels him, cuffs and restraints opening all at once. Poe hits the floor hard on his knees, and it's agony to move his limbs again, pins and needles to the maximum power.

"Fuck. Kriff. Fuck!" he swears mainly to himself, curling onto his side and slowly stretching out his legs and curling his toes as his blood starts moving again.

Ren looks down at him. The mask is impassive but Poe knows he's impatient, already bored of this one torture and thinking of the next one.

"Get up," Ren says, kicking him in the gut. It's not the hardest kick Poe's had recently, but he still coughs, takes his time standing.

"What are you planning?” Poe asks warily. He’s hunched when he stands, and he flexes his fingers and tries not to whine at the tingles there.

"Oh, today's session is all about you, Commander." Poe still hasn't seen his face, but he can hear the grin, twisted, underneath it.

Poe glances quick at the door. He wonders if there's a guard outside. He thinks of all the angles of escape, again. It’s an all-consuming thought when he’s alone.

Ren normally catches these calculations in his head, laughs and taunts him for them, but he seems slightly preoccupied, looking over at the camera droid every so often.

Poe wonders if it would be worth it to try to fight.

"You can try it if you like," Ren says, and then Ren leans in. "I know you want to put on a good show for your beloved General, Dameron. Show her there's still some fight left in you?"

Poe narrows his eyes but he doesn't move.

"You'd like her to think you're not broken yet, wouldn't you?" While Ren's use of the Force is unpredictable and sly, he broadcasts his hits and punches seconds before they happen, and when he goes to hit Poe across the face Poe grabs his forearm and twists it, putting all his strength into flipping Ren onto his back with it.

It hurts, he can't breathe, he does it and he kicks, bare feet, into Ren’s stomach, and then he's running only on adrenaline pressing his elbow into Ren's windpipe as he sits on his chest.

He's shoved off, predictable, stupid, and slammed into the door. Ren howls, furious and humiliated. His breath is ragged and as he stands, he unclasps his mask, lets it drop to the floor.

Poe stares -- Ren's pale skin is blotchy red from being choked, his long hair curling around his face. There’s an angry red scar across his face, but the rest of his skin is smooth, dotted with only a few freckles. He looks a scant younger than Poe himself, and he looks mad. Mad as in angry, mad like a boarhound with a fever, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"You'll PAY for that," Ren screams, stalking up to where Poe can't move, can't move, can't move.

"I was only going to hurt you," Ren says, voice quiet when they're face to face. Ren lifts him so they're eye-to-eye, Poe's feet off the floor, and stares at him. Poe can't hide his fear now; Ren looks like he can smell it.

"Now it's going to be so much worse," Ren says, and he runs his gloved fingers through Poe's lank hair. It's a grotesque parody of tenderness, the way he cradles Poe's skull.

He yanks and Poe shouts, and Ren pushes him into the middle of the room, right under the watchful lens of the droid. He keeps his grip on his hair and pulls Poe's head further back, baring his neck.

"I guess you can see he hasn't had his spirit crushed yet," Ren says, sounding out of breath. "But I think that'll make today's little demonstration more fun for both of us, don't you, General?"

There's no response, and Ren snaps, "Droid! Broadcast replies!"

"-so help me!" The General's voice is both balm and fire for Poe. He wants to hold it like a lifeline but he doesn't know if he'll survive the shame of this. If he ever sees her again, this is all he’ll think of, this catastrophe of a mission.

"General, your threats are music to my ears."

-