It's the middle of the night.
After, finally, a real meal of chicken, rice and vegetables delivered via stormtrooper, you can't sleep. You can't stop thinking about that room. There may be something in any of those rooms to help you escape. If you just knew the passcode, you could get a weapon from the training area.
You toss and turn, your bare legs feel like heaven on the comforter but you still struggle to rest. Your stomach pain has mostly subsided but your ribs still burn. You'd decided to wear only pants and a tank top to bed, hoping Kylo wouldn't be so intrusive to walk in on you - though even if he did he'd already seen you in your underwear. Not that you want that to happen again.
That's it. You throw the cover off, edging toward the closets to grab shorts for your snooping. At your door, you think about how much noise it makes. It's a swoosh and a small beep from the tech, but you doubt that will wake Kylo up.
Fuck it. You press the button, and the door slides open, revealing the cold, dark hallway. Your eyes instantly dart to his door, convinced he's caught you, even though you haven't actually done anything... yet. But no, it's clear.
Light on your feet, you cross over to the training room, hovering in front of the pad with an apprehensive energy pricking at the back of your neck. Your rib pain flares up. This is such a bad idea.
You do it anyway, the door slides open and you slip inside. The room is dark and eerie, no lights are on because you don't know how to work them. The dummies look threatening in the shadows but you have to ignore it, edging to the weapon casing.
Here's the hard part. The code. You press the pad and the screen comes alive, the light causing you to squint. You try 29, then the numbers on the letters ABY (229) - thinking, if your memory serves, this was when the First Order was founded. You're either wrong, or that isn't the passcode, because it denies you with an irritating deep buzz.
Think! Think! You stand there in the dark, lit by the tech pads light, jittery with nervousness. You could try to pry the weapons from their hold, but you're sure this wouldn't work. It could set off an alarm, and that's the last thing you want.
Maybe the code is Kylo's birthday? You tread from foot to foot trying to figure out if you know it. You're sure you remember a day people were extra kind, or careful, with Leia. You just can't seem to find it in your mind. Fuck. You angrily input 12345, only to be denied.
Then, you remember. Kylo had gotten out two batons. You'd never ended up using them. Your head turns in the direction of the table where he'd put them down.
They're not there. It's beginning to look hopeless. Every second you're out here, you're risking getting caught and you need to make it count.
Kylo's lightsaber will be in his room. But his room has a passcode.
Your mind wanders to that hallway in the study/lounge room. Could it really lead to his bedroom? And if it does, do you really have the guts to sneak around Kylo Ren while he's sleeping, to steal his weapon?
You don't have much of a choice. You're fighting for survival. Or freedom. Either way, you owe it to yourself to try.
With shaky hands, you return to the hallway. You stand there for a minute, trying to decide if you're actually going to do this.
Oh God, oh fuck, fuck, shit, this is so stupid.
Your thoughts are riddled with obscenities as you pad through the empty lounge room. One light is still on, a side light of sorts. Your heart sinks, does this mean he's awake?
You try not to let it alarm you, deciding he could have simply just left it on.
But Kylo Ren, making a mistake? It doesn't seem likely.
Fuck.
Now you're at the entrance of the sort of hidden hallway, not knowing if you should continue. You've come this far, so you peek round the corner to see what's there.
It's a small passageway, the length of the hallway of doors, leading to another room. Which must be Kylo Ren's room. Now that you're here, what you're trying is a lot more intimidating than it'd seemed. And it'd seemed pretty fucking scary.
You swallow, trying to contain your fear. You can see his window and the beginning of his built in closets from here, but you'd have to explore further to see his bed. To see him. Sleeping. Hopefully.
Keeping your back to the wall, you make your way down the passage. You listen for heavy breathing as a sign of sleep, but hear none. The room is lit with a low light, which makes you nervous but you continue nonetheless. You're at the end now, waiting, not wanting to make the final step to discover if you're screwed or not.
It's when you spot his empty bed that you know you've fucked up.
"Come out of there." Kylo's deep voice echos the room, the passageway. His tone makes you jolt in your place. He's talking to you. You're fucked. He knows you're there. Could you run away? Fuck. You stand still in shock, not running, not doing as he says either.
"Come." A low growl of a word. He speaks your name after, and you're shocked he even knows it. But wow, does it sound pretty in his voice. It rolls off his tongue like butter.
Ashamed, you step forward, your hand still on the wall as if you're clinging to safety. You don't even know where he is in the room because you cannot peel your eyes from the floor. He's going to kill you. This is the day you're going to die.
BANG. "NOW." He orders with booming authority, and you snap your head up, jumping slightly from the thump.
Kylo stands at the screen table, a projection of blueprints of sorts out in front of him - only it's glitching, broken. His fist is clenched, hard against the table. He'd hit it. His mere size is enough to make you wish you hadn't been so stupid, his broad shoulders impressively flexed due to having just smashed something that is most likely supposed to be difficult to break.
Despite how scared you are, you're more shocked at how naked he is. He's in underwear and a long sleeve top. His legs are out. You glance over his arms, those impressive arms, as you pad up to him. Your eyes eat up his thighs, not able to stop imagining yourself sat on them as you were before.
As soon as you reach him, his hand is clenched around your throat so hard that he actually lifts you from the ground. His fingers tighter than they've ever been before. You squeak, pulling at his fingers for release, trying to feel for the floor under your feet. He's not even bothering to look at you as you feel the air squeeze further away. Your throat feels like it's collapsing in on itself and you struggle to catch a breath. Before had just been warnings. This... this is different. You're choking, your breathing short and raspy. You could die. You're barely taking any air in at all.
His eye-line is still at the table, holding you by your neck to his side. He presses something and the table turns off, the glitched projection folding in. A sudden sense of anger in the Force erupts from him, before he actually looks at you and you can see it behind his eyes. That dark cloud of hate that surrounds his pupils.
You're panicked you're actually out of breath now, yanking on his hands pathetically as your strength lessens, and you kick your feet trying to find stability.
"Please." A choked, small noise of the word you're trying to say is what can be heard. He only grips tighter, your ears might pop any moment, the pressure increasing as you cannot suck in any air.
Then, he lets go, and you crumple to the floor. Something you clearly have to get used to. Your ribs seem to stab into any organ surrounding, feeling out of place and swollen. You gasp for air, coughing and spluttering, holding your chest as it heaves up and down. Sandpaper fills your throat, dry and hoarse from your struggle.
"I'm sorry," you breathe, trying to dig for remorse, "I'm sorry, I-I'm..." Your words are small and choked, still wheezing from your neck being clamped.
"No, you're not." You're basically knelt on his feet, only just about catching your breath when he pulls you into the air using the Force. You're pushed back through the room until your back smashes into the wall and you groan, your head aching and your rib cage screaming. "It's like you want to die. Would you like that?"
He's so fucking condescending, tilting his head slightly, watching you struggle the way one might inspect an insect. Or a speck of mud on your shoe. "Hm?"
"What the fuck did you expect me to do?" You snap, frustrated with being thrown around, frustrated with walking on eggshells.
"I expect you to behave." He warns, stepping toward you as he speaks. "I expect you to do as I fucking say." Something inside of you twinges, his ordering you about is almost... hot. His hair is messier than usual, a godly sight. His face, contorted and frowning, is as sexy as ever. You want to hit yourself, you're so fucking screwed up for thinking about how attractive he is right now.
"What a slut you are." He reaches you, since you're held up on the wall you're slightly taller than usual but he's still looking down on you, bending his neck, "is that all you can think about?" Shit. You close off your mind to him, but knowing it's too late now. You look away, head to the side, embarrassed that he heard you.
"No, no." Gods, he's so close you can feel his breath. "Don't do that." Kylo holds your jaw in hand, moving you to face him. He sounds angry still, so you're scared to see where he's going with this, that familiar tone still behind his words.
His eyes are on your body as he holds your jaw, they keep flicking down to your breasts. Your chest is heaving as you try to control your breathing, but you can't.
Unexpectedly, he lets you down, the Force hold disappearing. You don't move, your feet feeling strangely numb. You know he wants you here, and you know he can put you back even if you get away. There's no point in disobeying.
If you're honest with yourself, in this moment, with him holding your jaw... his face inches from yours... his body inches from yours... his dark gaze on your breasts... you don't want to escape. You just keep thinking about how you knelt for him. The way he held you with his hands in your hair and fucked your face. The V-line that poked out as you deep throated his cock. The skin on skin contact of his hands on you right now.
Suddenly you're turned around, Kylo having manoeuvred you so swiftly you barely notice whats happening until your face is pressed against the wall. He sweeps your wrists into one of his hands, holding your arms behind your back as you feel his body shift against you. Your breathing quickens.
He's so close to you. His strong torso is pressed against your back.
Usually you'd be terrified, but his other hand is on your hip, and you can only focus on how its moving slowly upwards. You can feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing your ear.
You can't seem to contain how much you want him to touch you. His hands, lightly passing over your clothed skin... it's too much. He passes your ribs, thankfully not touching the branding, finally reaching your breast.
He teases you, brushing his fingers over peak and you suck in a breath, then, finally, his finger and thumb reach your hardening nipple. He rolls it through the fabric of your top, pinching it slightly, and you cant contain your gasp.
Kylo hums with satisfaction and you can feel his erection grow against your ass, pressing into you. You squeeze your core, aching with want, he pulls on your nipple as his hand tightens against your pinned wrists and you let out the smallest of moans.
"Such a little whore for me..." he drawls, a teasing, yet authoritative tone behind his words. Kylo's hardness is pushing into your lower back as he teases your nipple, you're so out of it, overcome by arousal, a building, writhing lust in your lower stomach. He then stops his groping, his other hand still gripping your wrists behind your back.
Panting, confused, you look up him. His jaw is clenched like he's holding himself back. You don't want him to. His free hand grabs your face, resting his mouth by your ear.
"You want it?" His question seems more like a patronising statement, yet you nod. All you can think about is the cock that's pressing into you and the mouth by your ear.
"Say please," he seethes, squeezing your cheeks with the raw sexual roughness he always gives you. His words, so close to your ear, send a shiver down your neck, your nipples are hard and you can feel wetness gathering between your legs.
"Please." You say it so small you think he'll ask you to repeat it. But he doesn't, he slides his hand past your waistband, past your panties, a finger slipping between your slit. His touch leaves you delirious, the wall and his pressure behind you the only thing keeping your knees from buckling.
You whimper, his finger sliding over your clit as you squeeze your thighs together, your mind foggy with lust. A tightening desire builds in your cunt as he runs his finger over it. You're putty in his hands, letting out small cries and heavy breathing.
His finger slides into you, slick and smooth, entering you. You mewl as he slips another finger in, curling it round as pleasure fills your core and you clench around his large digits.
"So wet already." Kylo's low voice vibrates through your ear, his lips still so tormentingly close, goosebumps erupting on your skin. You moan as he pumps his fingers into you, his thumb skimming against your clit and you're overcome with pleasure.
Heated and impassioned, his lips start to move along your neck, his teeth biting at the soft flesh. A painful nipping as he sucks on it, pushing his fingers inside of you deeper simultaneously, you're elated and electrified... you want his cock inside of you. His fingers slick, violating you, pushing you for more.
He pulls them out and you want to object, suddenly feeling empty and devoid of his touch. You're spun to face him and your complaints are silenced, his fingers forcing way into your lips and onto your tongue. You're surprised, the taste of your wetness on your tongue, but you suck it off the way you think he'd like - then look to him for approval.
Kylo hums - a rough and subtle sound - in what you hope is satisfaction, then drops your wrists. You're lost, searching his eyes for explanation. Is that it?
"Now be good," he pinches your chin between his thumb and finger, "take these off," His other hand pulls at the waist of your shorts, before letting go so that the elastic snaps against your skin, causing you to jolt back in surprise, "and go over to the table."
Your clit throbs, begging to be touched again, so you nod, sliding out of your shorts. You should be embarrassed at how horrendously eager you are to do whatever he says in this moment, but you're not. You're just buzzing with desire.
After reaching the table, you wait. Kylo approaches from behind, grazing your side with his hand, and resting it on your waist as he stops behind you. You're taut, rigid, questions of what could happen racing through your head.
You're also hyper aware of his anger toward you, his agitation clear in the Force, even now that he remains with his frame towering behind you.
You don't move a muscle, even when he removes his hand from your waist to snake it up your back and rest at your neck. The contact makes your hairs stand on end. Waiting, fussy and concerned.
"Why are you here, when I specifically forbid it?" Your neck won't stop tingling. His thumb on one side, fingers on the other, his grip is loose but testing... cautioning you to speak carefully. You hate not being able to see his face, even though you know you wouldn't be able to discern his emotions anyway. You swallow a lump of oxygen when his other finger starts to ever so lightly draw a line along your forearm. His eyes are on you, you've never felt so lacking in control.
"Um." Sounding squeaky and nervous, you hold the edge of the table for support. "I'm not sure - I got lost."
The hand that had just been so lightly tracing your arm suddenly wraps a sharp clasp around your wrist, his response to your obvious lie. The warning hand by your neck yanks you back so that you're flush against him, his lips by the side of your head, his other hand now tugging on your hair to keep you in place.
"Don't. Lie." He hisses through his teeth, your hair snatched into his fist erupting sharp stabbing pain on your scalp. He's literally pulling you around like a rag doll, and now you have no idea what the fuck to do. You can't tell him the truth, the temper on this man is dangerous.
"I didn't mean to, I swear," You insist, breathy, trying to pull yourself from his insatiable hold.
He wastes no time with his rage, slamming you against the table on your front.
You cry out, searing pain spreading through your already bruised cheekbone after he'd smashed your face into the screen.
You want to scream from the pain of your ribs against the table, they might as well be on fire as you wouldn't know the difference. The Force seems to be holding your hands prisoner behind your back, you're writhing with agony, your chest sore from impact.
Even distressed, under his formidable constraint, you're overly knowledgeable of your bare ass. He seems to sense your anxiety as he stiffens up.
"Now. Why are you here, little padawan? What do you want?" The familiar patronising tone almost sends you over the edge. You hate his control over you, it's not fair that he gets to pin you down over his table and you can't even budge. His fist clenching your hair, pushing your cheek into the glass is a reminder of that.
"I want to LEAVE." You spit, struggling. His free hand pushes pressure onto your lower back, keeping you in place with ease. "I want to take a lightsaber," You're letting your anger control you, the forceful hold he has is making you restless. You're lost. "and drive it-" You
inhale a quick breath as his fist tightens, "through your heart." The hate is the only thing keeping you from crying. "Though I doubt you have one." The hardness behind your words help you keep your composure.
Without warning, Kylo delivers a heavy SMACK to your ass. You let out a choked strain, your body rocking slightly from the impact of his hit. Your ass cheek stings red, and you strain your wrists to attempt to free yourself - with little luck.
Another, SMACK, lands on the same cheek, the pain doubling in seconds. You're surprised at the growing pleasure in the pit of your core, that likes this. You push it down.
SMACK. Your gasp couldn't even be heard over the noise. You want to beg him to stop, but you hate the thought of begging him for anything.
"You want to kill me?" SMACK.
"Hm?" The low grumble of his voice is the opposite of kind, which is what makes it all the more surprising when he begins to massage your stinging cheek, his fingers soothing the area. Air flows from your lungs, your muscles slowly loosening their tension.
Your thighs are tensely pressed together, he's hurting you but you're finding the sting slightly pleasurable and you're fighting yourself trying to pretend it's not there.
"I-" You're so confused, the smooth massage he's giving you is almost comforting... he's waiting for you to relax in his hands, and as you do, he dips his finger between your legs to rub over the fabric of your underwear. A relief filled breath escapes you, "oh..." the smooth pad of his finger teasing you through your thin panties. His finger works agonisingly pleasurable lines over where he knows the most sensitive area between your legs is.
SMACK.
Just as you'd let your guard down, he continues the assault.
You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, the shock of the sudden spank was enough to make you jump out of your skin.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
You're aching and stinging, trying to free yourself but doing no good. You just have to sit here and take it, your face flat on the smashed table. You're worried the cracks of the glass might cut you, but it hasn't happened yet.
"Please, wait-" you despise that you're asking him, but the sharp pain on your rear end is too much, you feel like sobbing all of a sudden. SMACK. "Please!" You gasp, SMACK, fuck it hurts so much, "please." You're straining your neck now, trying to meet his eyes and plead, hoping he'll listen. Praying he'll care.
But of course he won't.
He pushes your head harder against the table, letting go of your hair to instead press his palm to your cheek - increasing the pressure of your head against the screen.
"No." His eyes have fire behind them, a menacing glow that flashes only briefly before it's replaced with the usual blank stare. "You need," SMACK. "to be taught," SMACK. "a fucking," SMACK. "lesson."
SMACK. You're not sure if you can take it anymore, the stinging turns to stabbing, your skin feels like it's been burnt with hot irons. SMACK. Your heart is working extra hard, pounding against the same table you're being forced into. His palm is still flat against your head, keeping you in place - embarrassed and restrained.
SMACK.
This time you yelp loudly, followed by a small cry that you tried to keep in - but biting your lip didn't help.
Kylo stops. You don't know if it was your noise or because he's done, but you're glad either way. You can't see him right now - his hand partially on your face. Your cheek feels wet suddenly, a small pinch from your skin against the glass.
The pinch turns into a slice, and you choke out another cry, "The table," you struggle with your wrists still pinned, "Commander- Sir- the table," you're breathless and not sure what to address him as and trying so very desperately to pull your head away from the cracking glass.
Kylo does not falter, your neck aches from the strain of trying to escape his heavy palms. Crack. The glass splits again and tears are streaming from your eyes now, the glass cutting into your forehead also.
"Please." You try to breathe. Your voice cracks. The pinching of the sharp glass edge on your skin panics you.
"Please, I'm sorry Commander, I won't do it again," you try to play into his controlling nature, hoping he'll like how you address him. The blood is worse now, pooling under your head. This is no longer a spanking, a lesson, you're just hurt - and he's just enraged.
Kylo relieves you and you're instantly pushing yourself from the table, from the smeared blood on the glass, backing away so quickly that you trip over yourself and end up on the floor, still backing away from him in horror.
It stings, it's so painful, the floor against your ass reminding you of his spanking every time you slide yourself away. Your hand flies to your face, there's no glass stuck, you were just being cut by the edges. The blood isn't much, but enough that you're scared. It's all over your hands now, it's on your lip from where you bit it, and you look back at the man responsible.
He doesn't look sorry, he doesn't even look angry anymore. He is completely cut off, apathy spread over his angelic features. How such a beautiful person could be so cruel...
The metallic taste in your mouth is sharp. You realise you've been sweating this whole time, your face a horrid mixture of bodily fluids. Kylo surveys you. He seems to like to think before he acts most of the time. Yet, violence can take him over in an instance in any scenario where he does not get his way. He has to be the one pulling the strings. Always.
Now he's crossing the room, retrieving something from the built in storage. You watch carefully as he seems to be coming toward you, and you flinch - edging backwards to get away. He stops, seeing your flinching movements, and breathes through his nose. You watch his jaw clench, but you can't tell what he's thinking behind those stone walled eyes.
"Come here, I won't hurt you." There's a pinch of the hardness from before, but mainly he seems agitated and withdrawn. Before when he told you this, he hadn't lied. So you choose to believe him, standing and timidly approaching. Your body begs for rest, the nerves testing your capacity for pain with each step. You see now that in his hand is a small first aid kit, and you're a little taken back that he's once again willing to check if you're okay after being so heartlessly aggressive.
"Come." He leads the way back through the passage to the sofa, away from his room. His strange, simple, grey room. "Sit." You're way behind him, still in the corner by the passage. You're admiring the way he carries himself, so careful, so planned. It's like he knows every move he's going to take before it happens. He's so very sure. Confident. In charge. His eyes meet yours, ordering you to obey, then they drop to observe every curve of your body. You wish you hadn't taken off your shorts now. But he told you to. So, of course, you complied.
His eyes on you compels you to feel embarrassed at how bruised your arms are from your sparring, and how your cheekbone must be ugly and swollen for the same reason.
"Now." He's impatience has you on edge. You rush to sit, and wince as you do, then he moves in front of you. He's too tall really, you're practically face to face with his crotch when you're sat down - so he lifts your face to view.
He's inspecting your face, your cuts that he caused. With those oddly light fingers, handling you like porcelain. Why does he do this? You're almost bold enough to think he might feel guilty, but having seen and heard enough about him you're sure it can't be the case.
Kylo says your name, just as your gaze begins to drift from his, and it snaps you back into focus.
"Yes?" You reply. All your usual sass, retorts, they're all hiding. You don't like that for a moment there, you were enjoying the spanking. You don't know what became of you.
"Stay still."
Right.
He rips an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, before cleaning your face so gently you're suddenly anxious that this is false. What if he's only trying to get your guard down?
Once your face is clean, Kylo sticks some sort of tape stuff over your two small cuts. The way he manoeuvres his large hands through his small medical tasks is mesmerising to you, his entire body is like a shield in front of you as he cares for your wounds. But you remind yourself that he only shows this rare kindness when he's hurt you. You need to get the fuck off of this ship, his presence is intoxicating. You don't care that he used to be Ben Solo. You should be putting your safety and the resistance first.
"They branded me." You suddenly say, having no idea why you said it. You meet his eyes for an answer, even though you hadn't expected a particular one.
"They do that." He doesn't care. He doesn't care that your body is forever branded ownership of the First Order. Burn marks on your skin are forever a reminder of your imprisonment. He doesn't even feel bad. He just packs away the supplies, and returns to his room.
You're almost shocked. You're just alone on the couch now, and he hasn't returned. You get up, pushing away the nagging pain from your behind, returning to your room with a heavy rain cloud hanging over your head and your body bruised.