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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The girl that buys him—just that thought alone is beyond repellant to him, even though his chain is in her hands even now, even though he saw the money or… whatever it is here, change hands—is no bigger than a wisp of a sandstorm, and he hates her with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. She tugs on his chain. He doesn’t move.

“Look, you cost me twenty-five portions.” The girl says. “I don’t want to have to use the shock collar, but I will.”

Kylo Ren sneers at her, and stands resolute.

So she uses the shock collar.

One sharp pulse of it is enough to make him bite back a scream, damn near fall to his knees in the dust. It’s degrading, infuriating, and if he had control of himself he would reach into the Force and slowly withdraw every single blood vessel in her body, one by one, over the course of several days.

But he doesn’t. And her hand never moves from the control cuff on her wrist. Her eyes show no compassion, just guarded wariness. So Kylo gets up. He’s taller than her, easily a head above her; he could get his hands around her neck and squeeze—but he doesn’t particularly want to. And anyway, his hands are linked together now. He needs her, needs a place to sleep where cold alien hands won’t pry at him and poke and prod. He needs food. And he’s convinced that he can get her to take the collar off.

The girl tugs on the chain. He gives her a murderous look, but obeys. Better to play along with her, for now. Bide his time and be patient, just like Supreme Leader Snoke is always trying to get him to do. How bitter it is in his mouth that this is the way he’ll finally learn that particular lesson.

They walk. Out from beneath the shadowed canopies, caught up in an intermittent but sandy breeze. Kylo knows to be quiet and observant now, to watch and learn. Even if there were people here who knew him, knew of him, First Order sympathizers, they would not see him now as the docile man being led on a chain. There would’ve been none who’d seen him without his helmet on, anyway.

“Where are you taking me?”

The girls looks back at him, over her shoulder. She’s got the chain wrapped around her hand, in her fist. “To where you’ll be staying.”

“And will you be there as well?” He can’t help the taunt in his voice.

“I stay there as well, yes.” The way she twists the chain betrays her nerves, he thinks. He raises his brows at her in response and she turns back around, facing forward.

His eyes scan the sandy wastes. The sun is hot, relentless. His skin itches, oil warm and slick and streaking.

“I’ll need clothes.” He says, after they’ve gone a little bit further. He has no sense of direction in this place, and he hates the feeling. It’s just that there’s no landmarks. Well, he amends, no landmarks other than the sun. Which is currently baking its way into his skin as he walks, trailing like a pet behind her. “Better clothes.”

“I’ll find something for you.” She says, exasperated.

He’s exhausted. The cuffs on his wrists clank as he tries them, impatient. “How much further?”

“Not far.” She says. “I have a transport, but we’ll have to find a way to fit you on it. I’m not exactly comfortable having you ride behind me with those cuffs off.”

He doesn’t disagree with her there. They arrive at her speeder, a huge clunky thing that makes his lip curl. The girl sees this, and for the first time there’s a flash of fire in her eyes. “I repaired this myself, you’re in no position to judge it, unless you want to be dragged behind it.”

Wisely, Kylo keeps his mouth shut. He lets her lead him around, hating the exhaustion that lays heavy on his limbs. She motions him to climb up on the seat, and then buckles his cuffs onto a metal rivet along the side. He’s so tall he has to bend over, uncomfortably, and the girl frowns at him as he sits there, thighs heating up from the metal beneath him, back bared to the sun.

“No, that won’t do…” She mutters. “Here, let me—“

She reaches for his cuffs, but he flinches. With a scowl, Kylo watches her unclasp them, but all the rage and fight within him is gone, exchanged for a bone-deep weariness. She secures him onto the speeder again, one arm to either side of the seat. It’s only marginally more comfortable—but has the added bonus of encasing her waist and backside in his forearms when she mounts in front of him.

That’s… unexpected. The arousal that fills him, even as the dusty, dirty scent of her fills his nostrils. Female, sweat and musk. Clean enough for out here, he supposes, but nothing at all like the sterile-clean of the First Order’s halls. She seats herself back on the speeder, her body grinding against his, only for a moment. Unconsciously, he’s sure of it.

Options, options, he thinks. Even without the Force he can tell the girl is frightened of him, intimidated. He doesn’t doubt for a minute, though, that she can take him down. Especially in the state he’s in now.

The engine kicks over, and then they’re off. He hates how he has to struggle to hold on, legs clamping around the speeder, around her, hands wishing he could grasp her and hold on. For all his rage and spite he feels as weak as a newborn. Hair plasters to his sweaty face as they fly, and he’s unable to swipe it away. Sand stretches out in all directions around them, disorienting, hazy, hot. And Kylo growls even as he lays his head down against her back, even as she flinches. He feels like he’s going to pass out.

“Hey,” She nudges him awake, uncuffing him from the speeder. When did they stop? Kylo blinks and glares into the sun, which seems lower on the horizon now. As she looks up at him, he straightens up—then, almost immediately, groans in surprise and pain.

The girl looks at him as she crosses behind the speeder. Her hands are deft and sure as she unclasps his other wrist, helping him—controlling his fall, really—down off the speeder.

“Steady, c’mon, you can get up.” She’s less exasperated with him now, more worried.

“I suppose I’ll be quite the investment on you if I die out here…” He slurs, arm slung around her wrist, delirious.

“You’re so dramatic.” The girl sighs. “You’re clearly not from this world, or else the heat wouldn’t affect you so much. Get inside.”

It’s cool inside the shelter she’s brought him to, he thinks. She sets him down, face-first, on a low, hard pallet. Even half-aware he knows she’s securing the chain to the wall. His chain. But he’s too weary to fight her.

“You’re sunburnt.” She says. He doesn’t respond.

She goes and rummages around, by the sound of it. Comes back to him and smears something cold and wet on his back. More bacta, by the smell of it. He flinches, feeling murderous at every tender touch.

“Stay here.” She says, after she’s done and tossed the packet in the trash. “I’ll make some food for us.”

Us, he thinks. What does that even mean, Us? Out here, where he is owned by her? Some common possession, some pack mule. He is nothing like her. And she is most definitely nothing like him. That he knows for certain.

Not for the first time, Kylo Ren wishes he’d died when the ship had gone down. He sleeps, but his sleep is filled with dark and sticky dreams.

(op again) ahhhhh the plot thickenssss *eats popcorn*

feeling murderous at every tender touch.

Oh Kylo.

Awesome, I am so camping out for this! *pitches tent and grabs popcorn*

PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED

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Fill: Rey/Kylo Ren, Auction Fic 2/?

Re: Fill: Rey/Kylo Ren, Auction Fic 2/?

Re: Fill: Rey/Kylo Ren, Auction Fic 2/?

Re: Fill: Rey/Kylo Ren, Auction Fic 2/?