Here you go, OP. Hope you like it. <3 --------------------------------------
He’s pouring over the intel on the latest moves of the Resistance when it creeps up again, like an itch, just under the skin. A pathetic and senseless desire for release, simultaneously pointless and unnecessary but so damned persistent to the point where it becomes hard to ignore.
Casually unbuttoning the bottom half of his outfit, he reaches a hand down his pants and grabs his own cock. It’s already hard. Of course. He lets out a loud sigh, entirely not the mood and annoyed at his body’s ceaseless compulsions. It will need to be dealt with.
Fortunately, he already has everything he needs to ensure a pleasurable release.
Ren waves over one of the Stormtroopers standing at the entrance of the throne room and hands off the data pad he was using. With his now-free hand he pulls lightly at the chain attached to the base of his seat. He’s been allowing Dameron the minor act of rebellion to wander off as far as the restraints allow, partially because he doesn’t care where the Dameron goes while he’s not being used, but also confident that one day soon he’ll have broken him so absolutely that he’ll finally resign to his rightful spot at Ren’s feet.
“Wake up, pilot,” he coos, jingling the links between his fingers.
When he receives no response, as always, he sighs to himself again, tucking his cock back into his pants and dragging himself off of his throne.
He pulls at the chain harder this time, drawing a shout of pain and surprise from the shirtless man as he stumbles over.
“Kneel.”
“Fuck you.”
It’s like work, at this point. Transactional. They both know what Kylo wants, and they both know that Kylo always gets what he wants. Still, he doesn’t blame the pilot for fighting back. Part of him even appreciates the effort Dameron takes each time, the way he struggles so valiantly against the inevitable. It’s why he had the pilot’s arms fastened behind his back with chains loose enough to draw them to his sides; not enough length to ever actually succeed at stopping Ren, but just enough to keep trying. This would become so boring otherwise.
Today, though, he’s not in the mood for games. He just wants the desire gone, wants it done so he can get back to more important work.
With barely a thought he sends Poe crashing to his knees against the smooth, reflective black floor. The pilot grunts at the impact, teeth gritted and muscles shaking against the force compulsion. His bloody nose seems to have dried a while ago; Kylo can see the darkened smears between Poe’s bruised clavicle and the thick, heavy durasteel collar he wears, and he resolves to have him cleaned once he’s finished.
He spares himself a moment to try to appreciate the sight of Dameron, of his mother’s favorite, the Resistance poster boy, subjugated and beaten down and helpless before him. The man is attractive, which is one of the reasons he keeps him for this purpose, but Ren’s interest is mostly biological. There’s no use trying to make this anything beyond what it is; any sense of romance or humanity he’d feel about another person was long ago swallowed by darkness.
Dameron grunts again, brow knitted and angry as he struggles to pull away, arms twisting at his sides. He is quite the sight, Ren thinks to himself as he pulls his cock out again, stroking it back to fullness while he watches the pilot work himself up.
There’s a small box hatch in the floor next to Ren’s throne and he cracks it open, looking over the toys contained within. He settles on an open-mouth gag, a durasteel ring in the middle attached to four prongs that connect with a black leather strap. One of his personal favorites; he’s found that the less energy he needs to devote to keeping Poe’s mouth open or body still with the Force, the more enjoyable the release.
Beside him, Dameron lets out a pathetic whine that turns into a growl of frustration.
Ren used to try explaining what he was going to do to the pilot before he did it, but today is all about getting the job done. And besides, it’s happened so often at this point that there’s no need to explain. Poe already knows what’s coming.
His selection of the gag draws over two of Ren’s Praetorian Guards, intimately familiar with the routine, and Ren goes back to stroking himself while one pulls Poe’s head back by his hair as the other works Poe’s mouth open to fit the piece in. The pilot tries in vain to shake them and the gag loose, long after the leather strap has been fastened tight around his head.
Ren drinks it all in; the muffled shouting and comforting rattle of chains in the near-silence of the massive room, the desperation and defiance and flashes of white hot fear that flare up in Poe’s mind. Even the sheen of sweat glistening off of Poe’s body hits Ren at his core, stirring a warmth in his gut that does wonders to scratch that biological itch.
His guards stand at attention on both sides of the prisoner once they’re finished, each resting an arm on Poe’s shoulders to hold the man in place and make things easier on their Supreme Leader. He lets his black pants fall to the floor and he steps out of them easily, watching the pilot’s eyes widen with horror before he looks away and resumes struggling.
Poe angrily shouts around the gag when Ren approaches, hurling something that sounds like a barrage of insults. Ren ignores him, taking himself in hand while he gently but indifferently guides himself into his captive’s mouth. He lets the tip rest on Poe’s tongue and he moans at the calming sensation of the warm heat of it, bucking his hips lightly as he works himself the rest of the way in, tangling his fingers in Poe’s curls with one hand and holding himself at the base with the other.
Beneath him, the pilot has mostly stilled, looking up at Ren with that predictable hatred in his eyes. It’s all Ren needs to continue chasing the sensation he’s only teased himself with up until this point, pulling back the hand on his cock to push himself in deeper.
Dameron’s mouth is hot and wet and absolute perfection, drawing a moan of pleasure from Ren when he finally breaks through the resistance of the back of Poe’s throat with a reluctant pop that he can read all over the pilot’s face. He can feel the muscles in Poe’s throat spasm and constrict around his dick, the muted sounds of agony adding to the heavenly tightness.
He begins to thrust in earnest, reaching down to smear his fingers in the tears spilling from the pilot’s eyes before moving to feel the length of himself through his captive’s throat. Sparks of helplessness shoot through Poe’s mind and Ren monitors them closely, enjoying himself immensely but mindful of the length of time Poe has been without air.
“Oh, yes…” he breathes out in ecstasy, gorging himself on the tingling sensation lighting up the nerves throughout his body every time Poe’s tongue thrashes against the base of Ren’s cock. When the edges of darkness begin to creep up around Poe’s consciousness, Ren pulls himself out slightly, allowing Dameron use of his throat for long enough to cough and take a breath, before forcing himself back in, over and over and over.
The warmth in Ren’s guts builds to a strong heat, the feelings of pleasure and control and unstoppable power growing with each snap of his hips. He tangles his fingers in the pilot’s soft curls to pull his head down, lips and durasteel ring brushing against the base of Ren’s dick as he fucks into his mouth. He moans, holding him there tightly, allowing Dameron to thrash until his body finally goes limp, eyes glazing over before closing completely.
Ren pulls his cock out of Poe’s throat slowly, savoring the sight of how helpless the man looks below him, cheeks flushed and pink and wet with spit and tears and once-dried blood.
“The throne, today,” Ren tells the Praetorian Guards. “I’ll have him from behind.”
They nod, unlatching the chain attached to the collar and easily lifting Poe’s unconscious body, refastening the collar to a shorter implement near the back of the chair as they arrange the captive as they know their Supreme Leader prefers.
Dameron’s loose cotton pants are removed and the gag is untied and returned to the box by one guard while the other loops a thick rope through notches in the base of the throne, tying and knotting both ends through the links in Poe’s cuffs, holding his upper body down. Poe’s ankles are fastened to cuffs permanently fixed to the floor, leaving him bent over, bared open and ready for Ren to take as he pleases.
He dismisses the guards for now, satisfied with their efficiency and quickness, and he considers rewarding them with use of Dameron’s body once he’s finished.
At the moment, though, he’s only concerned with his own needs.
He makes his way over to his throne where the still-unconscious man is tied down, relieved that he will soon be rid of this distraction and back to other more important tasks.
Ren traces the soft pink rim of Poe’s hole and loops in a finger, gently pulling at the muscle from the inside. Poe’s back is a mess of bruising and gnarled scars that catch when Ren smooths his hand over them before gripping Poe’s hip. He removes his finger from the pilot and grabs himself again, considering asking one of his guards for additional lubrication before dismissing the idea; the slick left on his cock from the pilot’s mouth should be enough for his purposes.
Dameron’s still unconscious but he stirs as he’s entered, Ren’s long dick forcing itself past the resistance with little regard for the pain that likely accompanies it. He pushes himself in to the base, relishing in how fucking good it feels before he begins to thrust, slowly pulling out to the head and slamming back in.
There’s something so beautiful about the simple pleasure he gets watching his cock move in and out and in and out of his captive, and he grabs handfuls of Poe’s ass in feral excitement, already working up sweat.
The room is silent save for Ren’s grunting and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh as he builds himself up into a frenzy.
He gathers a small amount of Force lightning into the tips of his fingers and pushes it into the pilot through his tight grip on the man’s hips, immediately waking Dameron with a shocked cry of pain. Ren watches the initial confusion covering Poe’s face, quickly to turning fear and agony when he inevitably realizes he’s immobilized for Ren’s sexual purposes.
Again.
Dameron tries to get away anyway, hands balling into fists behind his back, muscles tensed and straining. Ren reaches up and places his giant hand on the back of Poe’s neck, forcing his head down and holding him to near stillness.
The pilot cries out as Ren’s pace increases, working up to a sharp friction that only adds to his pleasure.
He’s so close, so fucking close that he’s nearly delirious with it, satisfaction almost within reach as he slams into the pilot again and again and again until the man is reduced to tears beneath him, his wailing filling the room and finally pushing Ren over edge.
He pulls his hand off of Poe’s neck and moves to hold his hips tight enough to bruise as he thrusts in once more, hard, pleasure and pure fucked-out bliss overriding everything else in the entire universe as he orgasms deep into the pilot, the aftershocks of it nearly bringing Ren to his knees.
The two stay tangled for one bare, vulnerable moment, each trying to recover their breath for different reasons.
Ren pulls out slowly, drawing it out. Part of him doesn’t want this to be over but he can’t identify why, though the view of his semen-coated cock gently sliding out of the pilot’s ass nearly causes him to go off again, and he smiles to himself.
Dameron’s gone limp, still crying but trying desperately to hide it, eyes bloodshot, whimpering pathetically against the smooth seat of the throne. Ren watches in mild amusement as the same two Praetorian Guards untie and drag him away to the ‘fresher. The pilot still struggles weakly, clearly in pain, legs nearly useless.
Ren doesn’t bother retrieving his own pants or resuming his earlier task, still riding the post-orgasmic high and sweaty enough that it will become annoying to stay like this for too long. Instead, he follows the guards to the ‘fresher.
He’s never taken the pilot there.
He has other needs anyway, always new limits to explore and itches that need scratching. Thank the Force for Poe Dameron.
Re: Kylo Ren/Poe non-con – Kylo just takes what he wants
--------------------------------------
He’s pouring over the intel on the latest moves of the Resistance when it creeps up again, like an itch, just under the skin. A pathetic and senseless desire for release, simultaneously pointless and unnecessary but so damned persistent to the point where it becomes hard to ignore.
Casually unbuttoning the bottom half of his outfit, he reaches a hand down his pants and grabs his own cock. It’s already hard. Of course. He lets out a loud sigh, entirely not the mood and annoyed at his body’s ceaseless compulsions. It will need to be dealt with.
Fortunately, he already has everything he needs to ensure a pleasurable release.
Ren waves over one of the Stormtroopers standing at the entrance of the throne room and hands off the data pad he was using. With his now-free hand he pulls lightly at the chain attached to the base of his seat. He’s been allowing Dameron the minor act of rebellion to wander off as far as the restraints allow, partially because he doesn’t care where the Dameron goes while he’s not being used, but also confident that one day soon he’ll have broken him so absolutely that he’ll finally resign to his rightful spot at Ren’s feet.
“Wake up, pilot,” he coos, jingling the links between his fingers.
When he receives no response, as always, he sighs to himself again, tucking his cock back into his pants and dragging himself off of his throne.
He pulls at the chain harder this time, drawing a shout of pain and surprise from the shirtless man as he stumbles over.
“Kneel.”
“Fuck you.”
It’s like work, at this point. Transactional. They both know what Kylo wants, and they both know that Kylo always gets what he wants. Still, he doesn’t blame the pilot for fighting back. Part of him even appreciates the effort Dameron takes each time, the way he struggles so valiantly against the inevitable. It’s why he had the pilot’s arms fastened behind his back with chains loose enough to draw them to his sides; not enough length to ever actually succeed at stopping Ren, but just enough to keep trying. This would become so boring otherwise.
Today, though, he’s not in the mood for games. He just wants the desire gone, wants it done so he can get back to more important work.
With barely a thought he sends Poe crashing to his knees against the smooth, reflective black floor. The pilot grunts at the impact, teeth gritted and muscles shaking against the force compulsion. His bloody nose seems to have dried a while ago; Kylo can see the darkened smears between Poe’s bruised clavicle and the thick, heavy durasteel collar he wears, and he resolves to have him cleaned once he’s finished.
He spares himself a moment to try to appreciate the sight of Dameron, of his mother’s favorite, the Resistance poster boy, subjugated and beaten down and helpless before him. The man is attractive, which is one of the reasons he keeps him for this purpose, but Ren’s interest is mostly biological. There’s no use trying to make this anything beyond what it is; any sense of romance or humanity he’d feel about another person was long ago swallowed by darkness.
Dameron grunts again, brow knitted and angry as he struggles to pull away, arms twisting at his sides.
He is quite the sight, Ren thinks to himself as he pulls his cock out again, stroking it back to fullness while he watches the pilot work himself up.
There’s a small box hatch in the floor next to Ren’s throne and he cracks it open, looking over the toys contained within. He settles on an open-mouth gag, a durasteel ring in the middle attached to four prongs that connect with a black leather strap. One of his personal favorites; he’s found that the less energy he needs to devote to keeping Poe’s mouth open or body still with the Force, the more enjoyable the release.
Beside him, Dameron lets out a pathetic whine that turns into a growl of frustration.
Ren used to try explaining what he was going to do to the pilot before he did it, but today is all about getting the job done. And besides, it’s happened so often at this point that there’s no need to explain. Poe already knows what’s coming.
His selection of the gag draws over two of Ren’s Praetorian Guards, intimately familiar with the routine, and Ren goes back to stroking himself while one pulls Poe’s head back by his hair as the other works Poe’s mouth open to fit the piece in. The pilot tries in vain to shake them and the gag loose, long after the leather strap has been fastened tight around his head.
Ren drinks it all in; the muffled shouting and comforting rattle of chains in the near-silence of the massive room, the desperation and defiance and flashes of white hot fear that flare up in Poe’s mind. Even the sheen of sweat glistening off of Poe’s body hits Ren at his core, stirring a warmth in his gut that does wonders to scratch that biological itch.
His guards stand at attention on both sides of the prisoner once they’re finished, each resting an arm on Poe’s shoulders to hold the man in place and make things easier on their Supreme Leader.
He lets his black pants fall to the floor and he steps out of them easily, watching the pilot’s eyes widen with horror before he looks away and resumes struggling.
Poe angrily shouts around the gag when Ren approaches, hurling something that sounds like a barrage of insults. Ren ignores him, taking himself in hand while he gently but indifferently guides himself into his captive’s mouth. He lets the tip rest on Poe’s tongue and he moans at the calming sensation of the warm heat of it, bucking his hips lightly as he works himself the rest of the way in, tangling his fingers in Poe’s curls with one hand and holding himself at the base with the other.
Beneath him, the pilot has mostly stilled, looking up at Ren with that predictable hatred in his eyes. It’s all Ren needs to continue chasing the sensation he’s only teased himself with up until this point, pulling back the hand on his cock to push himself in deeper.
Dameron’s mouth is hot and wet and absolute perfection, drawing a moan of pleasure from Ren when he finally breaks through the resistance of the back of Poe’s throat with a reluctant pop that he can read all over the pilot’s face. He can feel the muscles in Poe’s throat spasm and constrict around his dick, the muted sounds of agony adding to the heavenly tightness.
He begins to thrust in earnest, reaching down to smear his fingers in the tears spilling from the pilot’s eyes before moving to feel the length of himself through his captive’s throat. Sparks of helplessness shoot through Poe’s mind and Ren monitors them closely, enjoying himself immensely but mindful of the length of time Poe has been without air.
“Oh, yes…” he breathes out in ecstasy, gorging himself on the tingling sensation lighting up the nerves throughout his body every time Poe’s tongue thrashes against the base of Ren’s cock.
When the edges of darkness begin to creep up around Poe’s consciousness, Ren pulls himself out slightly, allowing Dameron use of his throat for long enough to cough and take a breath, before forcing himself back in, over and over and over.
The warmth in Ren’s guts builds to a strong heat, the feelings of pleasure and control and unstoppable power growing with each snap of his hips. He tangles his fingers in the pilot’s soft curls to pull his head down, lips and durasteel ring brushing against the base of Ren’s dick as he fucks into his mouth. He moans, holding him there tightly, allowing Dameron to thrash until his body finally goes limp, eyes glazing over before closing completely.
Ren pulls his cock out of Poe’s throat slowly, savoring the sight of how helpless the man looks below him, cheeks flushed and pink and wet with spit and tears and once-dried blood.
“The throne, today,” Ren tells the Praetorian Guards. “I’ll have him from behind.”
They nod, unlatching the chain attached to the collar and easily lifting Poe’s unconscious body, refastening the collar to a shorter implement near the back of the chair as they arrange the captive as they know their Supreme Leader prefers.
Dameron’s loose cotton pants are removed and the gag is untied and returned to the box by one guard while the other loops a thick rope through notches in the base of the throne, tying and knotting both ends through the links in Poe’s cuffs, holding his upper body down. Poe’s ankles are fastened to cuffs permanently fixed to the floor, leaving him bent over, bared open and ready for Ren to take as he pleases.
He dismisses the guards for now, satisfied with their efficiency and quickness, and he considers rewarding them with use of Dameron’s body once he’s finished.
At the moment, though, he’s only concerned with his own needs.
He makes his way over to his throne where the still-unconscious man is tied down, relieved that he will soon be rid of this distraction and back to other more important tasks.
Ren traces the soft pink rim of Poe’s hole and loops in a finger, gently pulling at the muscle from the inside. Poe’s back is a mess of bruising and gnarled scars that catch when Ren smooths his hand over them before gripping Poe’s hip. He removes his finger from the pilot and grabs himself again, considering asking one of his guards for additional lubrication before dismissing the idea; the slick left on his cock from the pilot’s mouth should be enough for his purposes.
Dameron’s still unconscious but he stirs as he’s entered, Ren’s long dick forcing itself past the resistance with little regard for the pain that likely accompanies it. He pushes himself in to the base, relishing in how fucking good it feels before he begins to thrust, slowly pulling out to the head and slamming back in.
There’s something so beautiful about the simple pleasure he gets watching his cock move in and out and in and out of his captive, and he grabs handfuls of Poe’s ass in feral excitement, already working up sweat.
The room is silent save for Ren’s grunting and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh as he builds himself up into a frenzy.
He gathers a small amount of Force lightning into the tips of his fingers and pushes it into the pilot through his tight grip on the man’s hips, immediately waking Dameron with a shocked cry of pain. Ren watches the initial confusion covering Poe’s face, quickly to turning fear and agony when he inevitably realizes he’s immobilized for Ren’s sexual purposes.
Again.
Dameron tries to get away anyway, hands balling into fists behind his back, muscles tensed and straining. Ren reaches up and places his giant hand on the back of Poe’s neck, forcing his head down and holding him to near stillness.
The pilot cries out as Ren’s pace increases, working up to a sharp friction that only adds to his pleasure.
He’s so close, so fucking close that he’s nearly delirious with it, satisfaction almost within reach as he slams into the pilot again and again and again until the man is reduced to tears beneath him, his wailing filling the room and finally pushing Ren over edge.
He pulls his hand off of Poe’s neck and moves to hold his hips tight enough to bruise as he thrusts in once more, hard, pleasure and pure fucked-out bliss overriding everything else in the entire universe as he orgasms deep into the pilot, the aftershocks of it nearly bringing Ren to his knees.
The two stay tangled for one bare, vulnerable moment, each trying to recover their breath for different reasons.
Ren pulls out slowly, drawing it out. Part of him doesn’t want this to be over but he can’t identify why, though the view of his semen-coated cock gently sliding out of the pilot’s ass nearly causes him to go off again, and he smiles to himself.
Dameron’s gone limp, still crying but trying desperately to hide it, eyes bloodshot, whimpering pathetically against the smooth seat of the throne. Ren watches in mild amusement as the same two Praetorian Guards untie and drag him away to the ‘fresher. The pilot still struggles weakly, clearly in pain, legs nearly useless.
Ren doesn’t bother retrieving his own pants or resuming his earlier task, still riding the post-orgasmic high and sweaty enough that it will become annoying to stay like this for too long.
Instead, he follows the guards to the ‘fresher.
He’s never taken the pilot there.
He has other needs anyway, always new limits to explore and itches that need scratching. Thank the Force for Poe Dameron.