Craving: A Kylo Ren Tale

Thirty-Four

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I suddenly feel small, like a brazen child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. And just as I did when sneaking through the apartment, I immediately regret stepping over the line.

"I, I just got curious-"

"This is none of your business," Kylo snaps. In a handful of quick strides he's next to me at the desk, snatches the paper from my hands and throws it back in the trash.

He stomps toward his room, and I can tell whatever happened with his uncle today did not leave him in a good mood. I'm about to resign myself, to let him walk away without question. But then I remember my dream.

I remember the giant labyrinth, the ocean, the search for the true Kylo, the drowning. Enough is enough, I want answers. Before he gets to his room and tries to shut me out, like always, my words stop him in his tracks.

"Is that your mother? Leia?"

The tension in the air is thick. Palpable. I can feel raw emotion radiating off of him and the energy in the room has grown dark. So dark. When he turns to face me, I swear his hazel irises have gone jet black.

"Excuse me?" he says at a molasses pace.

I realize in an instant that I've given too much away by knowing her name, and that I've outed myself as a snoop.

But I don't care.

"Is that your mother? Her name is Leia, right?"

His eyes are daggers and they pierce through my flesh like the blade of a hunter. If looks could kill I'd be dead hundreds of times over. When he finally speaks, his words are practically dripping with rage.

"Been spending time on the internet, huh? You have some fucking nerve to poke around where you don't belong. She doesn't concern you. This life doesn't concern you. Stay the fuck out."

His voice raises in volume with each word he speaks, and by the end he's screaming. But I'm done being the skittish mouse. I don't scurry. I stand tall.

"Like hell it doesn't concern me!" I shout back at him.

My bold words stun us both into silence for a moment, and the only sound in the room is our shared labored breathing. His hands are balled into fists at his side, my jaw is clenching so tightly that it's beginning to ache.

His eyes are still weapons of mass destruction, trying their best to destroy me where I stand. And when his intimidating glares don't force me to back down, he lets out a primal guttural noise and slams one of his fists onto the desk.

I wait a moment before speaking, letting the tension fizzle slightly.

"Let me in," I say softly while taking a step toward him. "Let me know you."

He stares at the desk, at his clenched hand. Softly, almost a whisper, he finally responds.

"You don't want to know me. Trust me."

"Yes I do." My words hurriedly fall from my mouth as I close the distance between us. "Trust me."

Taking his hand, I lead him to the couch and direct him to sit. I perch myself half next to him, half on his lap, and run my fingers through his beautifully tussled raven hair. In time he begins to relax, his heart rate slows, his anger towards me turns into sadness about something else. I've never gotten this far past his wall; and I'll be damned if I turn back now.

"Tell me about seeing your uncle," I gently push.

His body clenches for a moment as he stares at the opposite wall. His voice is smaller than I've ever heard it when he begins explaining.

"He wants me to come to Christmas tomorrow. To reconcile with my mother."

I sit and listen, carefully letting him speak the most personal words I've ever heard him utter.

"My parents wanted me to go into law like my mother, or the Air Force like my uncle, or even my dad's shipping business. But I chose art, and they never understood the path I was on. Never believed in me the way they should. And then I met Andy Snoke who gave me so many opportunities and he told me I could be whoever I wanted. That I could be the best if I focused hard enough, got rid of enough distractions. And that's what my family was. A distraction from my true potential. And he was right. As soon as I cut them from my life, as soon as I killed Ben Solo, I got everything I ever dreamed of. I make my art and I do it my own way. They've never approved."

Kylo stops speaking, and I can feel a sadness wash over him. I wait for him to find the words.

"For years Luke kept reaching out. Trying to build a fucking bridge between me and my parents. I shut him down, shut them out. And then... and then my dad died. Dropped dead while on a work trip. The great and charismatic Han Solo, died in a fucking hotel lobby. And mom has never forgiven me for not making up with him. For not... going to his funeral. And I've never forgiven her for not trusting me to find my own path through life. She's such a fucking hypocrite, saving the world when she can't even support her own son."

I can tell he's masking his sadness with anger, I can hear his heartbreak brimming under the surface.

We sit for a while, his words hang in the air before slowly dissipating, and eventually there is a still calmness between us. I contemplate what exactly to say for a good five or ten minutes before responding.

"I think we should go. To Christmas."

He turns his face toward mine and his irises are back to the golden amber I've come to adore.

"We?"

"Yes, we. You don't have to keep going through life alone. I'm yours, in every way."

His eyes dart across my face and I can't tell exactly what he's thinking or what he's searching for. But I watch as something inside of him clicks, a switch gets turned.

"You're mine, in every way" he repeats back in his intoxicating baritone voice. Slowly, as if saying it again makes it real to him.

And in this moment I could easily fall off the face of the planet and drift carelessly into space, I'm that fucking happy. Finally, a real moment with this man. After a month of running straight into brick walls, I've crashed through and now I'm seeing a new side of him. This feels like a true moment of intimacy. Something I've been wanting since the beginning.

One of his hands delicately traces the diamond bracelet cuff on my wrist, his other brushes the hair from my face before leaning in to kiss me tenderly. Our mouths meet and there is instant crackling electricity. Lightning bolts jolt from my lips and down through my core, igniting a fire within my chest.

We start out kissing delicately as if this moment could shatter if we move too abruptly. His tongue softly dances across mine, we each have our hands gingerly laced through each other's hair.

But as time goes on and he kisses me deeper and deeper, our movements ramp up and soon he pulls me fully on top of his lap. Gentle movements turn into desperate pulls and tugs, and there is no space left between our frantic bodies.

Our mouths barely part as my frenzied hands are tugging at his shirt and fumbling with his buttons. He does the same to my sweater, ripping up and off fiercely so we can embrace skin on skin.

As I'm straddling his lap on the couch, he puts both arms around my waist and easily lifts me so he's standing and I can wrap my legs around his waist. He strides towards his room with purpose and throws me down on his bed.

His hungry eyes look down at me, weapons finally disengaged. There's nothing but possession and craving now.