Craving: A Kylo Ren Tale

Twenty-Six

I'm not the least bit surprised to wake up alone. Kylo never stays the night, and I've never been bold enough to try in his bed.

It's still early, before sunrise, so I take a quick shower and then make a pot of coffee while lounging in a bathrobe. I'm on the couch in the stylish living room, confirming Kylo's meetings and reservations for today, when I hear him rise.

"Godmorgen," I call to him as he pours himself a brew. "I called down for room service, it should be here soon. Æggekage, øllebrød, and fruit." He doesn't seem to care about the omelette or rye porridge so I continue.

"Your first meeting is at 9, Ap'lek will be here at 8:35, your reservations for lunch and dinner have already been confirmed, and you'll need to stop by Cardo's gallery at some point to confirm the setup for tomorrow's show."

It feels good to be on top of things. I know I was only invited along to make Kylo's life easier by taking care of planning and details. And I'm sure it doesn't hurt that we're fucking. But at least I know I'm pulling my weight professionally, and I feel confident in my position.

"Good. I'll have Ap'lek all day, I trust that you can entertain yourself? Keep yourself busy but do try your best not to get lost." His tone isn't necessarily protective, but it's a tiny glimmer of compassion. I'll take it.

I dress for the weather as he showers and readies himself for a day full of meetings and business deals. My plan is to walk as much of the city as possible, so I throw on layer after layer of warm clothing. Under my chic Prada coat and sweater are cozy tights, jeans, undershirts, and wool socks.

I'm grabbing a scarf, hat, and gloves when Kylo exits his bathroom and strolls through the living room in just a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight of his bare torso will always cause my breath to falter.

As I'm obviously ogling his body, trailing up and down the curves of his muscles, I eventually glance up to his face to see his bemused expression. "Enjoy the sights," he chuckles as I blush and make my way out the door with a wave.

Feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush, I do my best to shake it off while riding the elevator down to floor level. He's fucked me senseless, why am I blushing. Get it together.

After a quick chat with the concierge, whose English was much better than the simple Danish phrases I tried to learn this morning, I have a map and a plan.

First up is a walk along the Nyhavn canal with its brightly colored townhouses, fully decked out in Christmas cheer. Wreaths, pine boughs, decorated trees sprinkled about.

I snap numerous pictures, send some selfies to Rose and Finn, and even stop by a house where Hans Christian Andersen lived for a time. Walking these streets feels like walking through one of his fairytales.

An art museum catches my eye, I browse pieces that are much tamer than Kylo's. And honestly now that I've seen so much of his work, I feel spoiled by his talent. Beautiful sceneries and soft portraits are lovely and surely belong on the walls of great museums... but art after Kylo is bland, and I want more of the debauchery I've been exposed to lately.

The palace and royal museum are intriguing, and as I stare at the jewels and Fabergé collection, I feel a small sense of understanding. Lately I've felt my own sort of luxury. But I don't need a crown to feel worshipped. I feel powerful, like an absolute queen, when he uses and abuses me. 

I stroll along the streets, warmly welcomed by locals. While talking with a Danish woman in one of the many Christmas markets, she explains I'm feeling hygge. It's an emphasis they put on coziness, togetherness, happiness. And it practically sparkles through the air of the charming city.