inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[There is something about Naboo that resonates with him. Its a kinship that he had not known himself to have, and it makes him feel as if he is adrift in a river. Padmé Amidala may not have been particularly strong with the Force, but he could almost sense her presence in the room. His hand rests on the arm of the throne, in wistful rememberance. He’d never be worthy of her legacy, but even though he has accepted that...]
I felt something.
[...he can’t help but lust to have a piece of it, even now. But that life was done. Rey was the Empress now, and frankly the galaxy was better for it. It was not his preferred outcome, but it was better than other alternatives. If only he could convince her to get rid of Thrawn.]
Do you? Or are you just here for the chair?
[He finally looks up at her, hands folded behind his back in deference.]
[ said to the tune of, "I can come here for it if I want." hell, it's her galaxy.
her eyes rivet briefly to where his palm had settled against the throne, as though concerned now that he might have done something to it. that he might be plotting something.
thrawn said this paranoia was the burden of every ruler. searching for enemies where there were none. she could not succumb to it. it was a new shape of the dark side, one she had never possessed enough power to brush up against before. ]
All I feel is ghosts, Ren.
[ it comes easier to her to call him this, now, than kylo or ben. some hybrid. some middle ground, as she is. she has felt the presence haunting this place, as though it were an ache aggravated across time. sorrow. and ... something else. ]
[He can feel the way her paranoia vibrates across the bond, and something sticks in his chest. In response, he steps away from it as she ascends to meet her half way.]
You don’t need to worry about them. They are here for me...not you.
[There is some exhaustion in his voice. Defeated too many times, feeling the eyes of his grandmother boring into his skull. The chain of Skywalker failure shackling him to reality, keenly aware of the presence of his uncle. His father. His grandfather.]
Don’t let it trouble you.
[He reaches for her hand, with the intent of leading her to the throne.]
[ they aren't her concern, of course. he is. but his willingness to back down puts her at some kind of ease, and she reaches to accept his hand. kylo ren has never been a man excessive in his affection, and so she can only guess that this contact anchors him as much as it brings her back down to the roots of it.
this. balance.
she walks with him, a cape pale as bone dusting the ground behind her. ]
Being here makes you uneasy.
[ even now she's no good at anything but the direct path. she's been told that it has been charming, refreshing, to some of the leadership. and morbidly rude to others. it's a work in progress. ]
[He tries not to think about it, but of course it is no use with the bond so strong between them now. He relaxes his grip on her hand once they reach their destination.]
No.
[A blatant lie that comes out like an old reflex to protect pride he no longer has. Yes, he was feeling sorry for himself. He probably always would. Who had failed more and gained so little other than him? He deserved some privacy on the matter, as far as he was concerned.]
[ she releases his hand only to bring her hand up to his face. it's a cradling, gentle gesture. she delves the bond, only barely dipping beneath the surface. ]
Yes.
[ it's a correction. brutally made, perhaps. ]
You can't hide it from me. [ she brushes her thumb over the curve of his cheekbone. ] Why are you trying?
[He closes one eye, half of a flinch that he can’t quite suppress while she accesses their link. He swallows his frustration, hands curling to fists but refusing to lift his cheek from her hand.]
Is that question really necessary?
[She must already know his answer. His shame, his worthlessness. He could not do the one thing he had set out to do., and now he was here being tormented by the scornful stares of his family.]
[ a hint at the edge of her voice sounds ... wounded. it seems a distant, girlish thing now, that motive. she had believed she could change him. that something was still in there of ben solo, that it was as simple as pulling him back into the light.
it wasn't. it would never be so easy, and it would never be him that could right the wrongs in this galaxy. not when he had created so many of them himself. ]
And this place ... was a gift. Your family comes from Theed. [ and she turns then to look back through the open window, the sun casting a warm glow over the lake in view. ] I brought you back here a conqueror. You should be happy.
[Needing his hand held to conquer a defunct democracy doesn’t feel like a gift, ir like a victory. But he understands the sentiment behind it, feels it bounce across the bomd along with her offense. His head dips a little in deferance, as it often did for the previous Supreme Leader, black hair falling in front of his eyes.]
You are right, of course.
[He means that, in spite of his monotone. He swallows some of it.]
Forgive my wallowing...Empress.
[He still hasn’t figured out if she wants that title or not.]
[ she draws up closer to him, her free hand raising to tug at the front of his tunic, drawing him down to her. she doesn't reach up for him anymore. she hasn't in some time. all it takes is a touch to bring him to her level, now.
this is what she wanted, too. and still it doesn't satisfy. it isn't how she wanted it. ]
No one else is here. [ she lowers her voice to a hushed sound. ] Call me by my name.
[He bends for her, more grateful than he would care to admit for the distraction. No, this was not what he had pictured either but— given the alternatives, it wasn’t so bad. Something in him gains more life, when she pays such attention to him. This is easy — this is familiar, though vastly preferable and more pleasant than anything the Supreme Leader had given to him.]
Forgive me, Rey.
[On her command, he corrects himself with ease in a deep and husky bass tone. To further comply her unspoken request, he unfolds his arms from behind his back and settles them at her hips.]
[ this is better. she can feel him responding to her, as though he's come awake again. as if some piece of him is still in there. she misses the challenge and the fire and the—
having an equal.
that's what it is.
she studies him as he moves to embrace her, not with reproach, but with unguarded curiosity. with him she tries not to be on her guard, even if he does not feel the same. she'd never gotten him to feel the same. the ease with which she exposes herself to him, he does not share. he has just transitioned — withholding one pain instead of another. after some silence, she stops reaching and just asks. ]
Do you hate me?
[ she sounds ready to accept it, not punish him. after all, he had wanted this for himself. she was meant to be the one at his side. but that would never have worked. he had never had it in him. ]
[He pauses when she offers up her question. The answer he wanted to give came into his head immediately, but -- the fact that she had asked at all means he needs to examine it. So there is some silence, as he turns it over in his head.
Did he hate her? No. Then what about this still bothered him? There was still something else, or he would be able to engage with this without issue.]
No.
[It comes out, even in the middle of his self-reflection. Because however bitter he might be that he didn't get to do things his way -- he doesn't hate her. That's a stone fact.
Plus, he doesn't miss the fact that she'd chosen to keep him around and alive. Anyone else would not have done that. So, how could he hate someone who seemed to have a vested interest in keeping his company, when so many others had scorned it?]
[ this thing, their empire, was in its infancy yet. a shaky thing. breakable. if she could not maintain the relationships it had been built on, it would crumble. that much she was certain of. she needed them to anchor her in what she had once been, lest the power corrupt her into everything poe had feared she already was. ]
[He confirms that for her. The last time he was under the yoke of another, it had not turned out well for him. He trusts Rey -- but he had trusted Snoke as well.
He can probably be honest about that much. They are alone in the room after all.]
The last time I had trusted someone with this was Snoke.
[And, while he overall thought he had agreed with the direction he was taking the galaxy in, he had also encouraged him to destroy many things that were once important to him under the guise of necessity.
Their relationship, thankfully, is different. Built on some measure of understanding and respect, rather than...whatever his last role was.]
[ yes. that's very apparent from the fact that she leans in so close to his face that they're exchanging breath at this point. no. there's a warmth between them that the dark side alone could never create. it stirs now, in the bond. ]
He's gone. You have nothing to fear, anymore.
[ and that's really the crux of it. their fears, luke and snoke alike, had been eliminated from the galaxy. this should be a victory, but for the fact that they are both held back by the people those fears made them into. ]
[He almost forgets what they had even been talking about. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that what the bond was giving him was what he'd wanted all along -- someone who understood his pain, fear and struggle on the most basic level possible. She was tied to him the way that no other person could be.
The thing about fear -- it never really went away. There was always the possibility that something would rise to fill the void that had been left behind. And then there was the fear of failure -- that never went away.]
I know.
[That she isn't Snoke. As far as fear went -- that remained to be seen. But he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so he closes the last of the breath's distance. That has become easier, the past few months.]
[ the ability to sense his intent as clearly as she can — not just the usual anticipation that the force provides, but really see it in him before it happens — means she's never surprised when he sweeps into this anymore. it lacks mystery and uncertainty, but it also leaves her feeling ... full. content.
she knows she has him, beyond the shadow of doubt, and that's something better.
her eyes drift shut — they were halfway there already — and she tightens her grip on the front of his tunic, pulling him in by it. if anything were going to chase off the ghosts, it'd be this. she whines into his mouth, her other hand pushing up into his hair. without hesitation she melts against him, finding familiar footing in this embrace.
the road had been ugly, and they'd lost pieces of themselves along the way, parts had come loose, but for this ... she would do all of it again. ]
[The bond amplifies everything, making him oversensitive to how she grabs at his tunic and pulls him even further into their shared embrace. His heavier thoughts bury themselves in a forgotten recess in his mind, and he allows himself to get lost in perhaps the most favorable aspect of the Dark side: passion.
His hands move up from her hips to hold higher on her torso, at the mid-point of her ribs while she drags her hands through his hair. It coaxes his lips to part, to invite her in with him. It speaks to the trust she's managed to wrest from him, how close he allows her with such little resistance.
Its a far cry to when they had just begun to discover this thing between them. The thoughts of failure, of the things he'd lost, of any sort of power struggle -- left behind, shed the way he seeks to shed Rey of the current burdens on her conscious.]
[ her teeth tease his lower lip. she may wear all the decorations of a regent, but she is still the feral animal she has always been, made comfortable in a life that does not really belong to her. when he opens up to her, she devours him, as though she had only been waiting for permission.
it is not an antidote to his pain, only a suppressant, but it will serve.
rey reaches up from his tunic to unclasp his cape, letting it gather on the ground around him with that sturdy thump of heavy material. it says what they aren't. what the silent space between them has implied from the moment he took her hand to guide her to this spot. there is one thing which they can always offer one another.
she starts to lean back onto the wide desk in front of the theed throne, but her own cape catches, pulls her shoulders back. a grunt comes out. she's still not used to it. it goes too. ]
[If he were a different sort, he might have laughed at her attempts to navigate regency. Instead, he is wholly focused on chasing her when she leans back, so much so that he is already looking to help lift her onto the desk even as she releases him to undo her cape. Its a perfect balance — he senses where she moves, and shifts his grip to accomodate, to make both actions once seamless motion. By the end of it, he is kicking both capes away, and reaching to push her skirts back up with her to the surface.
He fills the open space with his body, tugging on the bond for direction rather than trying to lead himself alone. His confidence had increased since he had first given himself to Hathaway. He braces one hand on either side of her, leaning down to find her lips again.
He could not find the difference between a cure and a suppressant. For now, they were the same and he was grateful for it — and trying to understand how he had gone so long without engaing in the bond this way was impossible.]
[ a thousand tacitly exchanged feelings and thoughts make acting upon their passion a seamless enterprise. even their breath rises and falls together. it happens automatically, slipping into the comfort provided by the bond. it should feel tainted, somehow, knowing that snoke was the one who had bridged the gap, to turn this potential they had into something so all-consuming, but ...
it doesn't.
his influence cannot negate the comfort and belonging that it brought. with her skirts around her thighs, rey circles him in her legs and pulls his hips flush to hers. he's warm and sturdy there between her thighs in a way that feels like home. a scant familiarity in a strange world.
she catches his mouth in a kiss, then turns her chin up and guides him to her throat. this has always been the way of it, for them. instructive — that's a cold word for it. but a willingness to hear and meet the other's needs.
this need comes through clear as day, drowning out the doubts and fears and insecurities that threaten to drown them in distance. she needs him. needs him to show that even if this is all wrong, they are not. that he can be satisfied as long as he just has her, just as she stumbles blindly through this with him as her anchor.
leveraging the hitch of her legs around him, rey bucks her hips up against his, savoring the way the friction both satisfies and exacerbates her slow-building fever. her hands drift down to his belt to continue their work undressing him. it is a brazen confidence that allows her to no longer fear intrusion upon this, or perhaps more importantly, to know that such an intrusion would not stop or humiliate her or demand explanation. not anymore. ]
[She tips her chin and in the same beat he shifts his focus to her neck. There is only a moment of breath between the thought and the action, a seamless transition that isn’t quite comfortable for the angle of his neck. No sound or thought of complaint crosses his mind in spite of that — instead, its the opposite. He keeps in tune with the bond, eagerly looking to measure and feed off her reactions to his obedience. Like this, what he wanted and what she wanted began to mix and mingle in a way that made it almost impossible to differentiate.
Kylo Ren parts his lips when they find flesh, dragging the barest hint of teeth in a promise he doesn’t quite commit to. There is a question hanging in his mind, about how badly she wants him to ravage her. Rather than verbalize it, he moves his mouth further south and starts to close his teeth around corded muscle.
That is when he feels the lock of her legs around his hip bones, and the way she grinds against him unearths a pleasured grunt of satisfaction, mumbled into the muscle of her throat. It prompts him to release the desk instead to support her back so that she would have an easier time peeling his clothes off. He can feel the warmth rising up his neck the more he feels her hands move near his waistband.]
[ she ducks her head to whisper it into his ear as he reaches the tendons of her throat and the protrusion of her collarbone. though she can't see, she can feel — what he feels, too. not just the awareness of her fingers fumbling to unclasp the belt around his tunic and then pull it up, out of the way of his waistband and pants. (she doesn't bother to pull his tunic off here and now — there's a franticness about this that she does not want to lose.) but ... a stirring, too. heat. desire.
that unfulfilled promise lingers between them. maybe he doesn't hate her. maybe he doesn't know what he feels about all of this yet. but he has been holding back. perhaps it's not about want, then, but need, visceral and consuming, to let that out.
his tunic belt clatters to the ground, pushed off the desk by her elbow as she gets the waistband of his pants open. her hands plant on the curve of his waist and slide down inside the loose top of his pants to settle at his hips and squeeze. she ruts against him again. ]
Don't hold back on me.
[ there is, of course, no need for speech between them. that she groans this out is then ostensibly so that he can hear this almost plea on her lips. ]
[In the same beat that gives him permission and she goes to press their hips together again, he bites down. The friction she provides jostles him just slightly, and if there had been any question whether or not his attention would bruise her, there would be no longer. His nails drag against the back of her gown blunted by the material, but it is a seconary sensation to the work he does with his mouth. He pulls the skin of her neck past his teeth with a satisfied growl, and then moves on to another location at the joint of her shoulder and repeats himself. No one would be able to look upon her without seeing his marks, and he does not bother to consider how that would look to the rest of their “allies”. As far as he is concerned, their opinions are meaningless.
He maps a path of saliva and bruises across her collar bone, unable to stop himself from seeking more of that friction, more contact. Every now and then as he moves to mark her again, his hips roll in her hands. Thankfully, she already had the foresight to undo the front of his pants, as she would no doubt be able to feel just how hard he’s gotten in such a short time. His breath is cut off thanks to the fever he chases, encouraging a few deep moans to unearth themselves when he presses her further into the desk.
But there are still several obsticles in the way of satisfaction.
The bond, so close as it is, warns Rey that he is about to release her spine in favor of reaching back for her legs. She has better leverage, so he trusts her to release him long enough to reach past all of her skirts in order to continue disrobing her. Like Rey, he does not want to lose the hastiness they started this with, and so he finds the waistband of her underwear to pull it away, leaning back and dropping to his knees to better assist in their removal. In the same beat, he turns his cheek to bite into her thigh with just a touch more tenderness than he had used to ravage her collar bone.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
just let it happen
I felt something.
[...he can’t help but lust to have a piece of it, even now. But that life was done. Rey was the Empress now, and frankly the galaxy was better for it. It was not his preferred outcome, but it was better than other alternatives. If only he could convince her to get rid of Thrawn.]
Do you? Or are you just here for the chair?
[He finally looks up at her, hands folded behind his back in deference.]
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[ said to the tune of, "I can come here for it if I want." hell, it's her galaxy.
her eyes rivet briefly to where his palm had settled against the throne, as though concerned now that he might have done something to it. that he might be plotting something.
thrawn said this paranoia was the burden of every ruler. searching for enemies where there were none. she could not succumb to it. it was a new shape of the dark side, one she had never possessed enough power to brush up against before. ]
All I feel is ghosts, Ren.
[ it comes easier to her to call him this, now, than kylo or ben. some hybrid. some middle ground, as she is. she has felt the presence haunting this place, as though it were an ache aggravated across time. sorrow. and ... something else. ]
Their time is over. And ours has only just begun.
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[He can feel the way her paranoia vibrates across the bond, and something sticks in his chest. In response, he steps away from it as she ascends to meet her half way.]
You don’t need to worry about them. They are here for me...not you.
[There is some exhaustion in his voice. Defeated too many times, feeling the eyes of his grandmother boring into his skull. The chain of Skywalker failure shackling him to reality, keenly aware of the presence of his uncle. His father. His grandfather.]
Don’t let it trouble you.
[He reaches for her hand, with the intent of leading her to the throne.]
If it is what you want, then take it.
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this. balance.
she walks with him, a cape pale as bone dusting the ground behind her. ]
Being here makes you uneasy.
[ even now she's no good at anything but the direct path. she's been told that it has been charming, refreshing, to some of the leadership. and morbidly rude to others. it's a work in progress. ]
Are you feeling sorry for yourself?
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No.
[A blatant lie that comes out like an old reflex to protect pride he no longer has. Yes, he was feeling sorry for himself. He probably always would. Who had failed more and gained so little other than him? He deserved some privacy on the matter, as far as he was concerned.]
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Yes.
[ it's a correction. brutally made, perhaps. ]
You can't hide it from me. [ she brushes her thumb over the curve of his cheekbone. ] Why are you trying?
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Is that question really necessary?
[She must already know his answer. His shame, his worthlessness. He could not do the one thing he had set out to do., and now he was here being tormented by the scornful stares of his family.]
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[ a hint at the edge of her voice sounds ... wounded. it seems a distant, girlish thing now, that motive. she had believed she could change him. that something was still in there of ben solo, that it was as simple as pulling him back into the light.
it wasn't. it would never be so easy, and it would never be him that could right the wrongs in this galaxy. not when he had created so many of them himself. ]
And this place ... was a gift. Your family comes from Theed. [ and she turns then to look back through the open window, the sun casting a warm glow over the lake in view. ] I brought you back here a conqueror. You should be happy.
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You are right, of course.
[He means that, in spite of his monotone. He swallows some of it.]
Forgive my wallowing...Empress.
[He still hasn’t figured out if she wants that title or not.]
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[ she draws up closer to him, her free hand raising to tug at the front of his tunic, drawing him down to her. she doesn't reach up for him anymore. she hasn't in some time. all it takes is a touch to bring him to her level, now.
this is what she wanted, too. and still it doesn't satisfy. it isn't how she wanted it. ]
No one else is here. [ she lowers her voice to a hushed sound. ] Call me by my name.
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Forgive me, Rey.
[On her command, he corrects himself with ease in a deep and husky bass tone. To further comply her unspoken request, he unfolds his arms from behind his back and settles them at her hips.]
And thank you for the gift.
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having an equal.
that's what it is.
she studies him as he moves to embrace her, not with reproach, but with unguarded curiosity. with him she tries not to be on her guard, even if he does not feel the same. she'd never gotten him to feel the same. the ease with which she exposes herself to him, he does not share. he has just transitioned — withholding one pain instead of another. after some silence, she stops reaching and just asks. ]
Do you hate me?
[ she sounds ready to accept it, not punish him. after all, he had wanted this for himself. she was meant to be the one at his side. but that would never have worked. he had never had it in him. ]
no subject
Did he hate her? No. Then what about this still bothered him? There was still something else, or he would be able to engage with this without issue.]
No.
[It comes out, even in the middle of his self-reflection. Because however bitter he might be that he didn't get to do things his way -- he doesn't hate her. That's a stone fact.
Plus, he doesn't miss the fact that she'd chosen to keep him around and alive. Anyone else would not have done that. So, how could he hate someone who seemed to have a vested interest in keeping his company, when so many others had scorned it?]
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[ is that right? no, not quite. ]
Or ... maybe you don't know yet.
[ this thing, their empire, was in its infancy yet. a shaky thing. breakable. if she could not maintain the relationships it had been built on, it would crumble. that much she was certain of. she needed them to anchor her in what she had once been, lest the power corrupt her into everything poe had feared she already was. ]
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[He confirms that for her. The last time he was under the yoke of another, it had not turned out well for him. He trusts Rey -- but he had trusted Snoke as well.
He can probably be honest about that much. They are alone in the room after all.]
The last time I had trusted someone with this was Snoke.
[And, while he overall thought he had agreed with the direction he was taking the galaxy in, he had also encouraged him to destroy many things that were once important to him under the guise of necessity.
Their relationship, thankfully, is different. Built on some measure of understanding and respect, rather than...whatever his last role was.]
no subject
[ yes. that's very apparent from the fact that she leans in so close to his face that they're exchanging breath at this point. no. there's a warmth between them that the dark side alone could never create. it stirs now, in the bond. ]
He's gone. You have nothing to fear, anymore.
[ and that's really the crux of it. their fears, luke and snoke alike, had been eliminated from the galaxy. this should be a victory, but for the fact that they are both held back by the people those fears made them into. ]
no subject
The thing about fear -- it never really went away. There was always the possibility that something would rise to fill the void that had been left behind. And then there was the fear of failure -- that never went away.]
I know.
[That she isn't Snoke. As far as fear went -- that remained to be seen. But he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so he closes the last of the breath's distance. That has become easier, the past few months.]
no subject
she knows she has him, beyond the shadow of doubt, and that's something better.
her eyes drift shut — they were halfway there already — and she tightens her grip on the front of his tunic, pulling him in by it. if anything were going to chase off the ghosts, it'd be this. she whines into his mouth, her other hand pushing up into his hair. without hesitation she melts against him, finding familiar footing in this embrace.
the road had been ugly, and they'd lost pieces of themselves along the way, parts had come loose, but for this ... she would do all of it again. ]
no subject
His hands move up from her hips to hold higher on her torso, at the mid-point of her ribs while she drags her hands through his hair. It coaxes his lips to part, to invite her in with him. It speaks to the trust she's managed to wrest from him, how close he allows her with such little resistance.
Its a far cry to when they had just begun to discover this thing between them. The thoughts of failure, of the things he'd lost, of any sort of power struggle -- left behind, shed the way he seeks to shed Rey of the current burdens on her conscious.]
no subject
it is not an antidote to his pain, only a suppressant, but it will serve.
rey reaches up from his tunic to unclasp his cape, letting it gather on the ground around him with that sturdy thump of heavy material. it says what they aren't. what the silent space between them has implied from the moment he took her hand to guide her to this spot. there is one thing which they can always offer one another.
she starts to lean back onto the wide desk in front of the theed throne, but her own cape catches, pulls her shoulders back. a grunt comes out. she's still not used to it. it goes too. ]
no subject
He fills the open space with his body, tugging on the bond for direction rather than trying to lead himself alone. His confidence had increased since he had first given himself to Hathaway. He braces one hand on either side of her, leaning down to find her lips again.
He could not find the difference between a cure and a suppressant. For now, they were the same and he was grateful for it — and trying to understand how he had gone so long without engaing in the bond this way was impossible.]
no subject
it doesn't.
his influence cannot negate the comfort and belonging that it brought. with her skirts around her thighs, rey circles him in her legs and pulls his hips flush to hers. he's warm and sturdy there between her thighs in a way that feels like home. a scant familiarity in a strange world.
she catches his mouth in a kiss, then turns her chin up and guides him to her throat. this has always been the way of it, for them. instructive — that's a cold word for it. but a willingness to hear and meet the other's needs.
this need comes through clear as day, drowning out the doubts and fears and insecurities that threaten to drown them in distance. she needs him. needs him to show that even if this is all wrong, they are not. that he can be satisfied as long as he just has her, just as she stumbles blindly through this with him as her anchor.
leveraging the hitch of her legs around him, rey bucks her hips up against his, savoring the way the friction both satisfies and exacerbates her slow-building fever. her hands drift down to his belt to continue their work undressing him. it is a brazen confidence that allows her to no longer fear intrusion upon this, or perhaps more importantly, to know that such an intrusion would not stop or humiliate her or demand explanation. not anymore. ]
no subject
Kylo Ren parts his lips when they find flesh, dragging the barest hint of teeth in a promise he doesn’t quite commit to. There is a question hanging in his mind, about how badly she wants him to ravage her. Rather than verbalize it, he moves his mouth further south and starts to close his teeth around corded muscle.
That is when he feels the lock of her legs around his hip bones, and the way she grinds against him unearths a pleasured grunt of satisfaction, mumbled into the muscle of her throat. It prompts him to release the desk instead to support her back so that she would have an easier time peeling his clothes off. He can feel the warmth rising up his neck the more he feels her hands move near his waistband.]
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[ she ducks her head to whisper it into his ear as he reaches the tendons of her throat and the protrusion of her collarbone. though she can't see, she can feel — what he feels, too. not just the awareness of her fingers fumbling to unclasp the belt around his tunic and then pull it up, out of the way of his waistband and pants. (she doesn't bother to pull his tunic off here and now — there's a franticness about this that she does not want to lose.) but ... a stirring, too. heat. desire.
that unfulfilled promise lingers between them. maybe he doesn't hate her. maybe he doesn't know what he feels about all of this yet. but he has been holding back. perhaps it's not about want, then, but need, visceral and consuming, to let that out.
his tunic belt clatters to the ground, pushed off the desk by her elbow as she gets the waistband of his pants open. her hands plant on the curve of his waist and slide down inside the loose top of his pants to settle at his hips and squeeze. she ruts against him again. ]
Don't hold back on me.
[ there is, of course, no need for speech between them. that she groans this out is then ostensibly so that he can hear this almost plea on her lips. ]
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He maps a path of saliva and bruises across her collar bone, unable to stop himself from seeking more of that friction, more contact. Every now and then as he moves to mark her again, his hips roll in her hands. Thankfully, she already had the foresight to undo the front of his pants, as she would no doubt be able to feel just how hard he’s gotten in such a short time. His breath is cut off thanks to the fever he chases, encouraging a few deep moans to unearth themselves when he presses her further into the desk.
But there are still several obsticles in the way of satisfaction.
The bond, so close as it is, warns Rey that he is about to release her spine in favor of reaching back for her legs. She has better leverage, so he trusts her to release him long enough to reach past all of her skirts in order to continue disrobing her. Like Rey, he does not want to lose the hastiness they started this with, and so he finds the waistband of her underwear to pull it away, leaning back and dropping to his knees to better assist in their removal. In the same beat, he turns his cheek to bite into her thigh with just a touch more tenderness than he had used to ravage her collar bone.]
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