Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you observe your new room.
You're free of the cell.
You can't hold yourself back, you run and jump onto the double bed with a squeal. Smiling, for the first time since you've been here.
The bed is soft under your back, though compared to the cell bed anything would be this luxurious.
You hate that he left you in these handcuffs, but you find it hard to care too much with the smooth sheets under your skin.
Rolling over, you look around the room. There are two built-in closets opposite the bed, with a small table in between them a part of the structure - and a cushioned stool tucked under. To the right is a door that you assume is a bathroom. It's plain, a spare room at best.
Why the fuck are you in the spare room of Kylo Ren's quarters?
You decide you don't care why when you suddenly bolt up straight. A bathroom. Does that mean a shower too?
Practically jumping to the door, you open it with your other hand dangling underneath still attached by the handcuffs. The door slides to reveal a sleek, light grey bathroom with a shower, a toilet and sink. A large mirror sits neatly above. Your reflection stares back at you as you approach, hollow cheeks and knotted hair. The scar on your head looks pretty cool, though. At least there's that.
As you go to strip, you realise you won't be able to take off your clothes with the handcuffs. Or, at least not your top. Which means you've got to go and ask him to free you.
This is the last thing you want to do. You can't help but grumble to yourself as you venture back into the chill of the entrance hall, to knock on the door you'd seen him disappear into.
"Um, I wanted to shower so I-" You speak into the door, fiddling with the cuffs that strangle your wrists. The door opens before you're able to finish. Your mouth parts with the realisation. He's not wearing his helmet.
He's young... and handsome. Older than you, definitely, but younger than you were expecting. His raven hair falls messily past his ears, piercing hazel eyes, pools of anger swirling and gazing upon you. His eyebrows furrow, a crease as he frowns, your eyes drop to his beautiful nose, a slight curve. Then his lips, tight and frustrated but you're captured as you look at them, perfectly light pink.
"Speak," he says, a sound you'd never expected to come from his throat. Shocking compared to the robotic noise that emits from the helmet. A low, surprisingly soft, grumble. Smooth. It seems to pour through your ears like a rumbling brook.
"Oh." Fuck. You've forgotten. You bite your lip, still gawking at his beautiful face. Harsh, yet so soft all at once. Your line of vision follows a scar across his face.
Shower!
"I can't shower because of- um... it's these." You raise your wrists as explanation. Why are you acting like an idiot?
"Have I allowed you to shower?" His frown continues, he straightens the wrists of his sleeves as he speaks, not really acknowledging your presence. You're still not used to the tone of his deep voice. It's oddly comforting. Warm.
Your mouth is parted slightly, ready to speak yet no sound is escaping. Eyes wide, you're shocked at what he insinuates. Does he want you to ask for permission, now? Or is he just intent on embarrassing you?
"Well?" He looks through you with such an intimidating frown that you have to look away. Your spine steels when he brings his hand to your chin and tilts it to face him.
Since his gloves are off, his bare fingers brush against the soft skin under your chin. You almost shudder at the feeling of it. This man could kill you at any moment and yet for some reason you can't stop yourself from getting hung up on his goddamn face.
"I'm not going to beg for it." Your words escape so quietly, and you wait to see if he will strike you. He won't, surely? You're only asking to shower. But he's so goddamn unpredictable and you're a prisoner here.
He snarls at you. "Ungrateful." Before pushing your chin back which forces you to follow, stumbling back a little. Your stomach sinks. Does that mean no?
You look up to watch him turning away from you.
"You may shower when you ask nicely." He seems to have heard your thought, answering your question as he walks lazily, further into his room. You can see it much clearer now. It's triple - if not more - the size of the spare, with the largest window you've ever seen opening up to the stars spanning across the wall opposite the bed.
This stills your heart for a moment. The stars are so beautiful. It jolts your memory for a mere second, and you're reminded of freedom.
His mask sits, displayed, an evil presence watching over the room. Built in closets. A similar table to the one you'd interrupted him working on. Devoid of personality. Unless you count 'Commander of the First Order', which is written all over the room.
You follow him with your eyes as he crosses the room, stripping his cloak from his form and placing it upon his bed. A king size, you'd assume. It looks massive. So does he, you observe, in his undershirt, his wide shoulders and back looks muscled and huge. Scary, even.
You quickly have the urge to turn around and shower in your clothes, rather than talk to this powerful man who is already irritated by your presence.
Letting out a breath, you decide that your dignity is already long gone. You should at least allow yourself a shower while you wallow in the fact.
"Please, could I shower?" You ask, sounding small and insignificant, a frustrated tone behind your words. This isn't something you'd usually be used to, but over the past 10 days... you cannot say the same.
Kylo turns his head. Upon seeing you, he turns to face your direction, and drops his final piece of clothing from his hand. He looks unbelievably sexy in his undershirt. You're still adjusting to the fact this is the man you gagged on in a cell merely a week ago.
He returns, walking steadily, back to you - you could swear you see a hint of a smirk upon his lips. The sight is so foreign, an emotion other than anger coming from something other than that monstrous mask. Even if it is arrogance, you welcome it.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He tuts, a stubborn and condescending look on his face. You take it back. It's not welcome anymore. This is far more frustrating.
He clicks something to the cuffs and they open immediately, the heaviness no longer weighing your hands down as the handcuffs fall into his. You have to grit your teeth together, trying not to talk back.
Fucking entitled arrogant prick thinks he owns you.
Out of nowhere Kylo's hand is on your throat.
His thumb under your ear as he pulls you flush toward his chest by your neck, leaning his mouth above your other ear.
"I do." He says, with a calmness that stills your blood.
I own you.
That's what he means. Your throat hurts from the way he's grabbing you.
That deep voice is so close to your ear, his lips brush ever so lightly over your cheekbone. You pull your head back, trying to escape from his grip.
You glare into his eyes, under his scrutiny.
"You're disgusting."
His eyes pierce into yours. It freezes you to the spot, ruining your plans to knee him in the crotch.
His hand shifts from your throat until he's gripping your jaw in his hand, and pushing you - forcing you to walk backwards and slamming your back into the wall behind you.
His other hand grips at your sore wrist and you wince in sudden pain. You try to pull it away. He tightens his fingers around it.
"Disgusting..." Ren seems to be testing you. You do not beg for forgiveness. You stand by your words, a small nod as you grit your teeth to keep yourself from crying. The intensity of this is too much for you. He's so close to you. His skin, his hand, is on your jaw, your face, he's holding your wrist, he's inches away, it's Kylo Ren and he's playing with you.
He mirrors your frown.
"And, yet..." He tilts his head, watching you - studying you. You see the veins of his hand tense, and the lock of his jaw before he continues, looking down on you, "You were the one on your knees for me, were you not?"
You refuse to answer, turning your head away from him and trying to ignore his body against yours. He has somehow inched closer without you realising and you've come to notice that your entire body is shaking. Perhaps from embarrassment. Perhaps...
You can feel his torso, and he's truly towering over you. Now that his face is exposed to your gaze... without his mask he's intimidating in an entirely different way.
"Were you not?" He seethes, grabbing your face harder and forcing you to make eye contact with him.
His hand loosens against your tender wrist, and you can breathe again for a moment - until you feel his fingers brushing over the skin of your stomach, his hand having slipped under your top. Tingles spread across your delicate belly under his course fingers.
"Did you not have these pretty little lips..." He lets go of your face, pressing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. He leans in to whisper the last part with his face inches from yours, "...wrapped around my fucking cock?"
Your stomach twists with anxiety as your core tightens, but you press your thighs together in an effort to avoid it. His erection digs into your stomach, and a searing hot blush rises to your cheeks at the evidence of his arousal.
"That was a mistake," you tell him, not entirely sure if it sounds truthful... because you're not entirely sure it is the truth.
However, you're aching to feel clean and finally escape his intoxicating presence, and the tickling touch of his finger on your stomach is driving you insane. You shouldn't be entertaining him, but you're don't even know if you even have a choice in this.
"Please may I shower, Commander?" You try again, a breathy mess, peeking up at him through your lashes, figuring he might let you go this way. The demeaning way. You're doing what he wanted by asking nicely.
His eyes search yours, intensity brewing behind them. "Yes. Go away."
He finally lets you go, stepping back and watching you carefully as you walk back to your room and slide inside.
Once the door is shut you can feel your heart begin to slow and your lungs start to function normally again. You don't even have time to process what had happened before you make yourself strip off, hurriedly on your way to the shower.
A small hum of satisfaction rumbles in your throat as hot beads of water spray onto your chest. You hug your arms to yourself, trying to get every inch of your skin under the spray of the shower. You have to be so careful around the burnt skin, the branding is extra sensitive, stinging under the stream.
Water seeps through your hair, straightening it over your shoulders and running down your back like a river. Steam rises around you, the temperature at an extreme high. You don't even care that it's almost too hot, you're warm for the first time since you woke up here. So many firsts today.
Finally content, you take time to reflect. Kylo Ren's face. He's so different than you'd expected, and yet he is exactly who he should be - all at once. Flashes of his dark expressions, shadowy hair and chiseled facial features cross your mind as you scrub yourself clean.
Soap, shampoo and conditioner were all in here waiting for you. You almost moan at the sight of bubbles on your body and the smell of lavender in the air. You suppose Kylo Ren must shower, but you guess you'd never considered it as something he needed to do... until now.
Now that you've seen him, he's human. Which makes it all the worse that you must share such close quarters, considering who he is.
A mass murderer. A psychotic, hate-fuelled man who's captured you...
It makes it all the worse that you've given in to him.
Rinsing all soaps from your freshly clean skin, you step out and wrap yourself in a towel. The cool air hits you at once, a refreshing breeze as opposed to the usual uncomfortable chill.
You wonder what he expects you to do for clothes, do you just have to wear the same ones? The thought of stepping back into them makes you feel sick, the trapped enclosure of the cell flashing through your mind.
Instead of talking to him again, you decide to check the draws and wardrobe built into the wall.
To your surprise, clothes, all blacks and greys, lay out in front of you. Folded neatly into rows in the draws are shorts, sweatpants that look a little too big, small boxer-style pants and socks - both with the First Order's symbol embroidered into them. On hangers are t-shirts, long sleeve and short, and sweatshirts that are also slightly bigger than you need. Still no shoes. You suppose they could aid in escape. No bras, either. It's not a huge priority, and it's not like you wore them much before anyway. Unless in training, of course.
After drying off, you pull on a tight grey long sleeve, underwear and black joggers. Finally being covered up and warm is so comforting, and you hesitantly slide into the bed afterwards.
It's strange, being comfortable, surrounded by a foreign and plain bedroom. The lights and buttons on the walls mean nothing to you, you only know the ones to open the doors. Even surrounded by soft pillows and clean sheets, you feel uneasy. You slip out of bed and wander over to the buttons by the bathroom door.
You press them randomly, a few change the light settings in the bathroom, after flicking through those you discover one that heats the floor - this ones your favourite. You grin, wiggling your toes against the warmth of the tiles.
After turning the bathroom ones off, you tread lightly to the buttons by the other door, turning on the floor heating to the main room. You smile to yourself, loving the way the heat soothes the soles of your feet, deciding then to lay across the smooth floor to feel it across your back.
This is weird, you think. Kylo Ren, the infamous and widely feared murderer, has you in his quarters. You're laying... on the floor... in Kylo Ren's quarters. There's probably a hidden camera in here. Is he going to try and tempt you to turn to the dark side? The thought is menacing, looming over you. You'd never dream of it, but you worry about Kylo's influence. He's strong... and you have to control yourself around him.
The dark side tempts like forbidden fruit, toxic yet so alluring. You can see how people have fallen to it, it's strength in soothing lonely and hardened individuals is notorious. You've had a rough life, before the resistance found you, but now - with their support - you couldn't ever turn against them. You know the truth.
It makes you wonder. You know that Kylo Ren used to be Ben Solo. You had overheard conversations between General Ortega and LJ. How did Kylo slip into such darkness?
You find it difficult to believe anyone could be completely evil. But, the things you've heard that he's done... the glimpses of battle you remember... he might be beyond empathy, and beyond help - despite what his mother might want.
The floor, though pleasantly heated, is starting to feel very hard compared to the bed. You turn the heat off before climbing back under the covers, not caring about the odd, plain room anymore - a wave of tiredness washing over you.
Your eyes droop, a soft blanket of sleep tucking you into a world of dreams.
The morning breeds questions. You wake too soon, with a headache to show for it, but your body aches far less with the comfort of the bed you've been given.
But, even in a bed, you can't seem to stop worrying.
How long can you hide out in here before Ren comes to get you? Should you just get it over with? What does he want with you? Are you in danger? Are your friends? Do they know you're alive? Are they looking for you?
Before you manage to even get out of bed, what feels like rocks smashing into your scull begins to twinge into your head. A shrill stabbing sound jolts through your ears.
You groan, grabbing your head in your hands and curling into a ball, the ache banging against your cranium. You remember this feeling, from before, it's almost like a disruption in the Force. A very goddamn painful one. Like Kylo Ren is trying to pry into your mind. Again.
You don't let him in. It's painful, but possible. When you know he's reading you, you're pretty good at keeping him out. It's when you don't that he catches your thoughts, a shock, in the middle of the conversation. You don't even really take note that you're thinking something until he responds to it sometimes. It irritates you, you wish you could invade his privacy like that.
You stop your train of thought before it runs away. Is this not the perfect place to do just that?
Maybe its not worth all the mental strain to try and read his mind, as protected as it is... but you've got something now that you never had before. Two physical doors you're not allowed to enter. Two spaces that need exploring.
You make a mental note to try and sneak to them when you think he may be sleeping, hopefully you'll catch him typing a code at some point today.
But first, you decide to pay attention to your grumbling stomach. Now that the headache has faded, you've noticed it keeps contracting, sending painful cramps through you. Your diet since being here hasn't exactly been healthy.
Getting up, you stretch your hands to your toes, touching the floor, then stretch to the side hoping to soothe the cramping. It works a little, mostly due to the distraction.
You're grateful to be able to wash your face, and (finally) brush your teeth. You brush them three times over, needing to feel like they're properly clean. After you'd done... what you'd done, with the Commander, you'd washed out your mouth in the cell and you'd scrubbed at your teeth with your fingers every day. But water on it's own never felt good enough. As if you couldn't rid yourself of your sin, the memory lingering with the taste of his seed.
You decide to change the top you're wearing to a clean one, leaving the joggers on. You still feel fresh from the shower the night before. Digging through the bathroom draws under the sink, you're amazed to find deodorant, shaving equipment and a first aid kit. Your face lights up at your findings, and you strip instantly to shave and apply the deodorant.
Afterwards, the feeling of the sheets against your legs is mesmerising. You lie on the bed for a while, thinking, contemplating how long this momentary bliss will last before the Commander rains on your parade.
You're not there for long before your door slides open, and there he is.
Looking especially menacing in all black attire. You can't help but admire him again, his broad shoulders, his perfectly sculpted face and his brows constant frown. You like his nose. It suits his face so particularly. And his raven hair, adding to the intimidating nature of his appearance.
"Get up, now." His words rip you from your trance. So little patience. He waits for you as you grab socks and pull them on before shuffling out the room. You don't meet his eyes, he seems particularly irritated, and you'd rather not get hurt today. Your wrist feels practically better, and you can tell your branding wound is starting to heal.
You wait for him to explain, but instead he just paces to the door opposite and opens it. No code, you realise, following him inside. The floor feels spongey, your eyes are naturally cast down so you watch your feet pad onto black gym mats.
Looking around, thats the closest thing the room resembles. There are training dummies everywhere, one is cut to shreds - presumably by his lightsaber - and others house many blaster wounds, all perfectly shot in the heart and head, even some are made with different (padded) material. Probably for hand to hand combat. One of the walls houses weapons, encased in some sort of large presentation glass and black metal case.
Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. Theres a lightsaber there, along with batons, blasters, and others. Then, your heart sinks as you spot another fucking code pad on the tech next to them.
You hold back, nervously eyeing Kylo as he puts in a code and removes two batons. The lights blink with a beep and it seems it re-locks after.
"Before we start, I need to know what you've learned already." Kylo is focused on the batons in his hand, placing them on a nearby table.
You hesitate, scared you already know the answer to your own question. "Before we start what?"
"My superior has been informed of your potential and would like me to aid you in achieving it." He speaks flatly, seeming not to care for answering your questions, though you can only see the back of him.
So you're here for the First Order to use as their little pet project? And he doesn't even seem to want to do it? Has he been roped into this? Why do they think you're so weak that you could be persuaded to turn to the dark side? Does that mean he for sure knows how limited your training has been?
"Yes." He grunts, pushing away from the table to pick up some nearby dummies. His shoulder and arm muscles flex as he works, while you stand there perplexed. 'Yes'? What does he mean 'yes'? Yes to what?
"Yes, I am aware you are not far along in your training." He stops what he is doing.
Your body stiffens as you observe him headed in your direction.
"It is for this reason," why is he coming over here? "you are perfectly..." he pauses to think for the word, and with no space left between you, he pinches your chin to drive his point home, "suitable."
You can feel your hands shaking, to your dismay, as he tucks your hair behind your ear. "You will be my apprentice."
Who does he think he is?
Your disgust must be evident on your face because he frowns after you don't reply.
You're testing his patience by not responding to him.
His fingers linger now, knuckles under your chin, his thumb over your jaw, overbearing and controlling, you feel trapped despite him barely touching you.
"I already have a Master. I will not betray him." Your jaw clenches after you finish in your hateful defiance.
Named after his father, you'd met Luke Skywalker's son, who had decided to join the resistance at the base to help with the new padawans. His father had trained him on a secluded planet that LJ refused to name - despite the Resistance begging for Luke's help. You spend a lot of your meditation time thinking about him.
You'd bonded and he decided to take you on. You and the others called him LJ, it got very confusing when you hadn't, the J standing for Junior had turned out to suit him well. LJ was there for you when you were lost, and introduced you to Rey, who helped you integrate with the others.
You'd spent hours, days, weeks meditating by his side. You have him to thank for your new life, your friends, and your previously hidden connection with the force.
Unless you never escape. Then, you guess it'd be your old life... your old friends.
The idea that you could never set foot on the base again rips your throat out, a pool of nausea forming in your stomach that you have to keep ignoring.
Suddenly, your skin is toxic to Kylo's fingers and he pushes you from his grasp.
He's clearly angry, not only can you sense it, rippling through the air, through the Force, a tidal wave of destruction... but you can see it. His fists are clenched as he walks away from you, his shoulders hunching.
BANG.
He throws a heavy punch at a dummy, sending it flying across the room on the floor, an almighty hit. The sudden noise makes you jump in shock, following his every move - anxious that he'll focus his rage onto you.
You watch his back carefully, seeing it rise and fall with his angered breathing. He is so easily enraged, for someone who is supposed to command hundreds of thousands of soldiers.
He doesn't seem to even want to do this, why would he care if you're resisting? Perhaps he is under orders from someone even higher than him. The name 'Snoke' invokes a memory in you, of the conversation you overheard Kylo having outside the interrogation room.
You push the thought away. The idea of Kylo Ren answering to anyone else is almost laughable.
"Come here." He barks, ordering you to where he stands in the middle of the mats.
Carefully, you practically tip-toe toward him, walking around him so that you stand opposite each other. You're rigid as he stares daggers into you, and you grasp your elbows for some stability. It doesn't work.
"Defend yourself." He tells you, straightening himself into a fighting stance. You barely have time to register what he means.
"What-" You begin, but not before he pushes his hand toward you in a striking motion.
You catch his forearm millimetres before his hand reaches your face, your arm shaking from the scare.
Holy shit.
Your heart beats into your ribs.
"You're going to fight me?" You stammer, letting go of his forearm and edging away from him, self preservation kicking in.
"Yes." He clearly sees no issue. In fact, he seems irritated that you're asking.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Your head boils with rage. This is hardly a fair fight. You're severely weakened, running on little to no food, injured, not to mention he is KYLO FUCKING REN.
You've had enough. Aiming to storm out, you go to brush past him.
You don't get far.
He stops you with a hand on your chest, forcing you to stop. His hand lingers upwards, over your neck. Loose. Warning you.
You can't stop to care who you're speaking to or predetermine how he's most likely going to react, or you won't say it.
You blurt out how you feel as it rushes to the surface, "I haven't eaten properly in, what, 11 days? And yet, you expect me to stand here and defend myself from you? You're obtuse."
You watch his jaw clench with your narrowed eyes.
"For fucks sake." He growls under his breath, using his hand to inch you in front of him by the side of your neck. "This is only a measure of your ability."
Brows furrowed, he then adds on, "You must relax." Though it's an order, instead of a comfort.
Despite the apathy and annoyance behind his sentences, this is the least horrible thing he's ever said to you. He's actually explaining, and for once you don't have to guess. You're not alone in your thoughts.
"Okay." It comes out quiet, like a small thank you for explaining. You're still confused, and worried about fighting with a fully trained ex-jedi probably pre-sith commander of a fleet and army. You'd rather run, screaming, down the halls of the ship. But you can't. You're trapped by passcoded doors and stormtroopers and the Commander of the First Order with his stupid Force powers.
Kylo takes your wrists suddenly in his hands, pulling your arms up in front of you in a defence stance. Nervous energy buzzes through your limbs.
"I haven't done much." You quickly explain, tensing your fists as you eye his huge hands positioning your arms. "We mostly, um."
"Meditate?" He says under his breath. Was that... a joke? You find yourself almost smiling at the speckle of humanity. You nod in response. His hands are impressive, veins running up, large digits against your small wrists. You'd forgotten he was once Ben Solo. He, too, would meditate, and train, lead by the light. But that was a different man.
The inkling of humanity is quickly gone, Kylo's large figure in front of you reminds you of your need to be strong. His arms are huge compared to yours, even with him holding back you're worried he could break you.
Giving you no time to panic any longer, he throws a sudden punch toward you, which you manage to block to the best of your ability.
Instead of your face, his fist hits your forearm, and although he'd said he'd go easy... it hurts. You step back and groan, knowing for sure a bruise will be there tomorrow.
You barely get the opportunity to feel the pain before he's throwing his fist at you again, only this time you duck. Thankfully, he misses, but as you return to your standing position a swift blow to your stomach is served.
You wheeze, kneeling over. He'd punched you in the gut. You left it open, your stance had gotten lazy. You grip at your stomach with your hands, hoping for relief.
"Fuck." You gasp, stumbling on your feet before dubiously returning to your position with your hand still cradling your stomach.
If Ren had felt any remorse, he does not show it. In fact, he looks ready to punch you again.
You hate this. As you raise your arms again, you focus in on Kylo. You connect with the energy surrounding. You penetrate his mind.
His emotion hits you, frustration leaks from him as you read his aura.
SMACK.
Kylo's punch hits directly on your face this time, smashing into your cheekbone. Your head flings to the side and blood flies from your slightly parted mouth. A groan escapes your lips.
"If you weren't so intent on reading my mind, you might have seen that coming." His arrogance feeds your anger, you're seething with hate.
"Use it." His eyes blaze. "The anger will serve you. It only makes you stronger." He says this through his teeth, encouraging the loathing.
You hate how he's making you feel, the resentment building up - until you throw a punch toward him with all the strength you can muster.
Of course, he catches it in his hand, his grasp so tight your fist begins to crack. But you catch a flicker of surprise behind his eyes.
You let out a yelp of pain as your hand begins to be crushed, fingers feeling broken in his grip. He lets go, sparing you. Trying not to cry, you cradle your hand with the other. Your fingers look okay, no broken bones. Any longer and he might have.
His hand comes flying out toward you in another fist. You block it with your tensed forearm, shaking your hurt hand out at the same time and hoping you can still use it. It's obvious how much he's holding back, simply because you're somewhat managing to defend yourself.
You continue like this, you're out of breath and dizzy, blood rushing to your head, while he's barely broken a sweat. He hits, you dodge, or block, or brace yourself for impact.
You don't get any hits on him, he's too fast, you don't bother trying to read his mind again - too worried he'll catch you lacking while you focus your energy elsewhere.
You have no idea how long this goes on for, a half hour, an hour, who knows. All you know is you feel like your legs could give way, your stomach is in knots and heavily bruised, your arms must be black and blue, and you can feel your cheekbone swelling. The taste of metal in your mouth is something you've adjusted to after a second blow to the face.
You don't want to use the anger. You don't want to stoop to his level. That's how the dark side gets you.
When he grabs you in a headlock after you take a second to breathe, hammering you in the ribs, you've had enough. You drop all of your weight and fall to the floor, out of his arm, gasping and clutching at your ribs that feel like they're on fire.
"Stop," you beg him, too exhausted for pride, "no more." You've dropped your head onto your knees now, your words muffled. Beads of sweat tickle your hairline and run down your back. You wish you hadn't worn long sleeves. You're too hot. You're too hurt. Everything is way too much. You don't even care if he continues to beat on you, you just want to curl into a ball and ignore him. You hate him. You hate what he's making you do. This isn't fair.
You can hear his breathing slow as he stands tall over you, not saying a word. He doesn't seem to care about how much pain you're in.
"Get up." His harsh tone indicates that this isn't negotiable. You still don't move, fighting the urge to cry as you hug your legs to yourself and keep your head down. You know he'll make you move, but you don't care. You want to shut him, this room, this place, all out.
"Get. Up." Warning you, his voice deepens. If that's even possible. You don't like the way it grumbles above you. An avalanche of orders.
"No." You're insistent on staying on the floor. It's safer on the floor. He can't hurt you on the floor.
Kylo huffs, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get up. Now." You raise you head to look at him, not trusting his words, eyes wide. Anxious he might grab you and pull you up, you brace yourself with your hands on the floor and push up to your feet. You stand away from him, waiting.
"Come." He motions you to follow with two fingers, turning to leave. You follow at his heels, hugging your arms to your chest over your ribs that pang.
Out in the hallway, you watch him open the only door you've not seen into. You realise that his bedroom is the only one with a code to enter.
The door slides open and you both enter a room with a similar colour scheme of greys, only this seems like a study/lounge area. A wall sized window like the one you'd seen in his room stretches across the length of the room, stars for miles and miles ahead of you.
You're in awe, only having seen the galaxy this close once before. The rest of the room houses a couch, a coffee table, a desk and book case, usual and oddly normal furniture.
You also notice a passageway of sorts, tucked around the corner - the room extending out past where it should, as if it's a corridor to his bedroom. You decide it probably is, and you wouldn't be allowed in there. Which makes you want to explore all the more.
Though, you weren't allowed in here either, yet here you are. Is it out of pity? Has he taken you here because he feels bad? You frown, before you turn back around to face the stars which instantly soothes your anger.
You decide to ignore the rustling you can hear, Kylo arranging something on the desk. Instead, you move closer to the window, your hand extended until you feel the smooth glass against your finger tips.
Ren's footsteps sound behind you, walking across the room in the direction of the large couch. You have to admit it did look comfortable when you entered, aching and bruised. You peek at the couch, wondering if you're allowed to sit down.
Kylo is sat with his elbows on his spread knees, looking at a data-pad on the table in front of him. Fuck. He looks damn hot, his shoulders tense and his dark hair falling in front of his face.
You can't keep admiring him like this.
"Sit." Kylo doesn't even look up from the data pad. You're starting to feel more and more like a burden... but you don't care. You're glad you're inconveniencing him. He deserves a lot more than just that, and luckily now you're in a position to make his life just that little bit worse.
You sit as far away from him as physically possible, observing how the couch dips under his weight on his side. Your ribs and stomach tense as you slide your back to the cushion behind you, but you hold in your noise of pain. You bring your feet up onto the couch, hoping he won't mind, because its more comfortable - but also it helps you feel safer. Protected slightly by your legs. Distance between you and the scary new room.
"I thought I'm not allowed in here." You test your luck, a hint of attitude in your throat.
"You're not." Kylo offers no explanation but continues on the data pad. A few seconds go by and he stops, leaning back casually and flicking his eyes over you. You feel extremely exposed when he does this, like he could just take whatever he wanted from you. He looks so different in training clothes. He still scares the shit out of you, but at least he's human scary instead of Darth Vader scary. You can see the muscles of his body, you can see his strong thighs. His bare hands. The dark look on his face, gazing ever so intensely at you.
"Come here," he orders. He must have noticed the fear in your eyes because he continues, "I need to assess your injuries."
"I'm ok," you lie, not wanting him to touch you. It's enough that you're somewhere you're not supposed to be, and not understanding why, but now he wants to fix what he broke? How could he make you defend yourself in that room, when you had no defence, no energy, no chance? How could he do that and then decide to be 'nice' enough to check your injuries?
"Don't ever lie to me." The intensity of his stare thickens, a brewing anger behind his rough voice. "Come here."
You hesitate, then let your legs down to stand, and you place yourself in front of him. You stay standing, his eyes meet yours, his body still in his relaxed position. You're unsure of what he wants you to do, so you just stand between his knees and wait, praying your hands aren't shaking.
When Kylo leans forward, you tense up completely, nervously watching his hand as it reaches for your body. Both of his hands make contact with your hips, his eyeline at your chest. His long fingers move across your ribs and you hiss at the touch.
"Hm." Kylo presses slightly, and you struggle under his hold. The pain is too much and you just want to wriggle away, but he keeps you there. "This hurts?"
You nod, avoiding his eye contact as tears well up. Finally he stops the pressure, moving to your stomach. Again, he presses down and you gasp under your breath, moving your hands to his wrists to try and pry them away. You're feeling dizzy.
"Sit." He doesn't give you much of a chance to obey on your own, but instead uses his hold on your middle to pull you onto his lap. You blush, heating up as you can feel his thigh under you. You try to wriggle away, but he easily keeps you in place.
His hands are on your face now, moving it around in an inspection. He grazes his thumb over your cheekbone, but doesn't press. It's probably bruised, it feels it. You keep your eyes down, not liking how close you are right now. You recall how he'd called you pretty in the interrogation room that one time, even if it had been followed by 'bitch'.
You notice your breasts ache, having not found a bra before. You wouldn't usually do any exercise without one.
"Tell me." His smooth voice beckons you to explain. It's like he knows you have a complaint.
"Um. If I have to do that again..." You're worried you're asking for too much, being captive in such a nice bedroom and sitting in this huge forbidden room is odd. You're not sure what you're allowed. "I need a- a bra." Your eyes float to his. His face seems to soften, he watches you intently, your head still in his hands.
One hand falls from your face, brushing along the side of your breast. You inch away, but his other hand holds you.
"I can see to that." Kylo's words sound like a hum, deep and smooth. You're caught by his look, sitting still in his hand.
The hardness quickly returns to his face, He lets go of you, sliding you off of his lap and onto the sofa beside him - returning to the data pad.
"Return to your room, you will receive a meal." He says, unfeeling, his back still to you. Does this mean he ordered you food? You wonder, as you push up from the sofa and walk to the door. Before you leave, you peek over your shoulder at the angry man you just left. His brow furrowed, working hard. You think about the soft touch you'd just received. He'd never been so gentle. Granted, he had just punched you. A lot.
You return to your room to eat, deciding not to linger on it. It didn't matter. Horrible murderers can be soft sometimes, it doesn't make them less of one.
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A/N
thank you guys for reading !!
i'm writing this for fun and thought i might as well publish it and it's great to see people are reading it :) <3