Summary: The Jaws theme is playing throughout this chapter, it just wasn't relevant enough to the plot to mention it.
"Let's not waste any time, shall we, officer?" Hux said, eyes concentrated on the tablet in his hands, storming past you into his office.
The night had not been restful; your back was recovering from the unforgiving exam table, its intended use not one of comfort, but necessity. Along with the incessant pang radiating at your tailbone, the lack of sleep had outfitted you with reddened eyes and an overwhelming headache, every too-loud sound and overbearing light a throb at your temple. Even as you stood to enter into Hux's lair of career-ending lecturing, you found comfort in the fact that you wouldn't have to return to your sleepless confines before the day was over.
With one last steeling breath, you pulled your shoulders back and followed in after Hux, taking in the familiar space, unchanged since your last time being here. Hux had already sat down before you'd entered, still focused on his datapad. Whatever he was looking at was no doubt aimed towards the severing of either your ties with the First Order, or the ties between your head and body – either of which he was excited to take part in.
"General," you said, taking a cautious seat across from him. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this early encounter?" The words were mostly civil, only dipped in mockery.
"And it is a pleasure, officer," he said with one final aggressive tap to the screen, staring at you in malevolent glee. "Now, I should first inform you that you are still contractually bound to Commander Ren until your official denouncement by the Board of Physicians. Other than that, this is the beginning of the end, I am disheartened to say."
"I'm sure of it." The goal was to make it through this meeting without digging a deeper hole for yourself, and that meant taking Hux's snide comments in stride and withholding your own snark.
"Although I thought it was counterintuitive, I am legally bound to tell you that you will be under heavy surveillance. Not only in your practice as a physician – which will be extremely limited while the investigation goes on, by the way – but in your day to day life as well."
"What? Why?" The words were quick and emotional, coming before you could stop them. He raised an eyebrow, the outburst only offering him more reasons to expedite your dismissal. Clicking your tongue, you regathered yourself. "I'm sorry, general. Why am I being watched?"
Keeping your stare, he slid the datapad across the desk. "The Board of Physicians has deemed it necessary to not only question your competency as a provider, but also your character as an individual."
Finding a vague familiarity in the event, you half-hoped for the door to rush open and Kylo Ren to come take you away. To your dismay, however delusional and misplaced, the room stayed quiet of the hydraulic hiss, the only sound inhabiting the room being that of the cyclic boots of patrolling stormtroopers beyond the office. With a swallow, you took the tablet into your own hands and scanned over the screen, finding another legal document. This time, though, not displaying the pointed script of Kylo Ren, but that of another familiar face; within your hold was Talia's incident report, scanned into its electronic existence from her original penmanship.
"I trust you're aware of what that is, yes?" Hux asked.
His voice was muffled, background noise to your focus on the document. Not reading a single word, too nervous to know how she told the story, you mindlessly scrolled through the pages, regarding its length even in her small script. Nearing the bottom, there was an occasional edit, a typed word among her handwriting. Looking closer, you realized the necessity of the print, noting the original penning had been defaced with interruptions, splotches of dried tears contorting her testimony.
"Oh, Talia," you whispered to yourself, reaching for the stitching on your chest, fidgeting your sorrow along those three letters just as you had hours earlier.
"Didn't she do a wonderful job at recounting the occurrence?" Hux's voice pierced through your pain-laced reverie. "Truly a professional if I've ever seen one. Her dutiful reporting of the event proved her allegiance to the First Order, allowing her to receive a warning instead of a sentence."
"What is your purpose in showing this to me?"
"You'll eventually get your own copy," he said. "I figured you'd need a refresh of the events that led you here."
"I... will never forget that day, General Hux," you said, peeling away from the tablet.
"Good. You'll need that ability of recall when you go in front of the Board of Physicians to state you case."
Unrelated to the environment, a chill fled over your skin. You wanted to believe that he'd misspoke, but he would never mess up relaying anything so pertinent. The Board of Physicians had called for your presence. It made sense, your actions – a crime in their eyes – had directly involved them, their existence being what funded your position, though you never thought they would think it necessary to summon you for a trial. Yes, ethically you had messed up, but you had thought this would be a quick loss, not one that incited you ever coming face to face with the heads of your profession.
Although you'd worked hard at staving off the endless dread since leaving the assessment room, it now slowly crept into your stomach, tightening your chest in its clutch. In the throes of budding panic, your leg sprang up, bouncing silently, a conscious effort to not let your heel hit the floor. "Why do I need to present my case? They should know what happened by now."
He cleared his throat. "And they do, which is precisely why they called for your audience. Since you were selected for this new endeavor of provider assignments, they are concerned that their investment in the First Order isn't paying off as they had intended, and by your formal appearance they seek to revise the program for the future."
A huff of air flared your nostrils. "They're making an example out of me. How nice of them to choose public humiliation instead of execution."
His brow creased. "I don't think you quite understand," he said. "You have been accused of first-degree larceny. You will lose your license after appearing before them, but the basis for your execution is subject to their judgement."
"What have I done that would justify the end of my life?"
"You stole from the First Order, byway stealing from the Board of Physicians. Contrary to what you may want to believe, your actions do have consequences, miss," he bit your last name off.
"I stole? I saved a man's life by taking blood that would have expired had I not thought of it. How can they not see that?"
"It doesn't matter what you did with the blood, although you will be questioned on the ethics of transfusing a blood product that had not been properly crossmatched. What matters is the principle. The First Order does not take any crime lightly, but with your being a beta-tester for this brand-new program, compliance among providers is a priority that is to be enforced."
Everything the Elite does is unfair. Talia's voice rang loud as you fought back the need to scream, to flip his desk over, to run to the nearest escape pod and shoot off to some far away planet where nobody could find you. It no longer mattered if their actions were unfair, now only caring that they were wholly unjustified, using you as an example, invalidly exploiting you to incite fear amongst your peers, to set a precedent. It was wrong, lawfully and morally, and you'd had your fill.
"I don't deserve to die. It is sick knowing the backwards logic you've twisted just to rid yourself of me," your voice was husky with restrained rage.
"This has nothing to do with me, officer. This is completely on you. You made your bed, now lie in it."
"I did nothing wrong!" You cried out. "I'm a convenient way of pushing some agenda that the First Order takes no prisoners. I'm not even getting punished for what I did, I'm getting exploited to make a point, to act as some warning for years to come." You were on the edge of your seat, ready to shoot into the ceiling.
Hux sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching you draw nearer to spilling over. He tsked, narrowing his eyes, confusion pinching his face. "What's changed, officer?"
"What are you talking about?"
"In our meeting on the Finalizer, you seemed unphased by the prospect of losing your career. Now, it seems you're fighting to stay here. Why is that?"
It was something you hadn't considered. His question begged a truth you hadn't yet confronted: you did want to keep your assignment. It was as much a revelation to you as it was to him, sending you back in your chair, replacing your rage with quiet shock. What had changed? A week ago you were actively trying to convince yourself you were okay with dying, but now it was all you could do to fathom the thought of merely losing your license. There had been so much anger residing within you; where had it gone? And why was Hux right?
"Oh," you breathed, eyes fading into your memory.
You deserve to be here. Kylo Ren's voice, soft in the night, echoed in remembrance; the figment of his past face cast is the celestial shadows remained vivid, a living memory, nearly tangible in its clarity. The admission had floored you when he'd first spoken it, and nothing had changed, still losing your ability to think straight as the words reverberated around your thoughts and stole your breath. You'd run from the bond in his words, too scared of their truth. But, that was just it; they were true. There was no ill intent hidden behind them, the only thing residing in them an unadulterated sense of reciprocated trust.
His words should have lost all meaning when he pulled away that night, although you'd pulled away first; but, here, before Hux, you knew that Kylo Ren was what had sparked the paradigm shift. He had pulverized your heart that night, and you still hadn't fully recovered, but it was undeniable, even now: the reason you wanted to stay was because you'd realized your purpose – the worth you now felt in your position had been solely provided by Kylo Ren.
"What happened to not wasting t-,"
"I deserve to be here," you said, echoing your master. "No, I want to be here. I have just as much a place in the Elite as Talia Harper does." An incredulous laugh left you. "I deserve this."
Hux, alarmed by your newfound fire, sat forward, leaning on his elbows and tenting his fingers. "Those are powerful words. But I suspect you'll need a stronger defense when convincing your superiors to spare you."
"I'm good at my job. I saved that man; I'm not wasting time trying to convince you of that fact," you said, no longer affected by his attempts at intimidation. "They can watch me all they want. They won't find anything but the fact that I am a damn good nurse who has effectively kept the Commander of the First Order alive and well with no assistance."
Hux's scowl had returned in all its glory. "We'll find out soon enough, won't we?" His eye twitched. "Later today you will receive an email informing you of all the expectations surrounding the trial. The dates have yet to be determined, but they are adamant in their desire to get this off their docket as soon as possible – for safety's sake, of course."
Unblinking, you stared back in silence, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He continued. "You will need to arrange for travel, as the trial will be conducted on Canto Bight over the course of one to two weeks, depending on the judgement you receive."
"Canto Bight? Why wouldn't it be held here on Starkiller?"
"The Board of Physicians' headquarters is located there. You should know this, although I shouldn't be surprised you don't at this point."
Cracking inwardly, you needed to leave before you spewed hell fire down on him. Clearing your throat and squaring your shoulders, you steadied yourself before speaking. "I'll keep an eye out for that email. Now, is that all? Am I free to go?"
His lips pursed. "For now," he said. You got up and walked to the door. "But, remember officer, you are barely free from this moment on." His eyes pointed to the upper corner of the room.
Sucking your teeth, you entertained him, tracking your eyes with his, finding a security camera angled down to you. Such an ass. "Have a nice day, General," you said, slipping out of his view before he could get the last word.
The wide-open communal area of the Elite floor was even busier than last night, nearly double the amount of stormtroopers marching around. There also seemed to be an increase in employee population in general, the expanse buzzing with a constant influx of engineers, pilots and technicians. Maybe it was the fact you'd only been here during normal human hours once, only ever seeing the graveyard crowd when you'd reported for your shift, but every new encounter with the main functioning centers of the First Order painted a clearer image of the ever-rising tensions with the Resistance. There had been a few emails you scanned through mentioning an effort to destroy the Republic, but it never seemed pertinent to pay attention to them, feeling they didn't have a direct effect on your life.
With your head tucked into your shoulders and your arms wound tightly across your chest, you walked into the thick of patrolmen, having no particular destination in mind. Halfway through your trek across the floor, your phone buzzed. Figuring your watch would have dinged if it was anything important, you kept your focus on making your way through the room. But it buzzed again, and again – urgent vibrations sounding through your uniform. Without breaking your stride, and keeping your head down, you pulled it from your pocket, seeing it was Mason.
Before getting a chance to read his messages, the screen lit up with his caller ID. You were in the dead center of the floor, everyone could see you, and though you wanted to be far away from the circling soldiers, it seemed safer to be visible than skulking in a corner; if Robbie were lurking around, he wouldn't try anything so public. At least you hoped he wouldn't.
On its last ring, you accepted the call. "Hey, Mason," you said, peering around.
"Hey! Why did you call me last night? And sorry, Soto has me running forty-eights right now so I'm never around my phone," Mason explained, grog in his voice, either just waking up or in the process of getting rest.
Last night flashed through your memory, recounting the damaged door, the scratch marks, the dents, the blaring red caution tape tying the terrorizing scene together; it quickened your heart, that feeling of all-consuming dread threatening to return in its entirety. The stiffness at your back pulled you back to reality, reminding you why you had called him. "Actually, I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while."
The line stayed quiet for a moment, the bustling noises blockading you from hearing his tired breathing. "I mean, of course you can. You know that. But is there any particular reason? Is there something going on," he attached your name to the end of the question, genuine concern rasping through his exhaustion.
"No, everything is fine, I'm..." The words came too fast, a defense mechanism you'd adapted to keep people from worrying about you. But this was Mason. He knew your tics.
"Spill. Now." It was a demand, no hint of request in his tone, suddenly less tired than a second ago.
"I know, I do," you said, pressing your hand against your forehead, scanning the room. "Do you remember that guy I told you about before leaving for the Finalizer?"
"I'll kill him. What did he do to you? I swear, I - just give me a name and-,"
"Mason." You chided him, feeling like his words would somehow attract attention. "You're not killing anyone. Just – I went out with him the night I departed, and it... didn't go as planned. Okay?"
"Sure, but what does that have to do with you not being able to go home?"
This was it. Telling Mason would only solidify your reality. "So, maybe it went a lot worse than planned. Like. A lot worse. And I think he may have broken into my place while I was gone, and I'm really worried that if I go home that he'll come and, and..." Your throat thickened, anxiety stealing your words.
"Oh my God!" Your admission had infused his voice with alarm. "Yes, yes. Come here tonight. I'll call out and we can talk. Okay?"
"Mason, you don't have to call out. I know how important your residency is. I'll be fine on my own."
"You are important to me. And I don't want you to be alone, not with some psycho out to get you."
His words warmed you, feeling something other than stress or fear or anguish for the first time in months. But, before you could respond, he spoke with an urgency, realization overtaking him. "Wait. Where did you sleep last night? Oh my – I'm so sorry, I-,"
"Hey, no. It's okay. You were working. You didn't know, Mason," you said. "I slept in the assessment room. It's private and locked. I was safe. Please do not blame yourself for something you couldn't control"
A long breath left him, audible even with the synchronized marching swirling around you. "You're okay now, though, right?"
"I am... trying my hardest. I just really need a break from everything."
"Well I'll be all ears tonight. I can pick something up for dinner if you want?"
"Mason, you're already being too kind by letting me crash. Thank you, again."
"You never have to ask. My door is always open," he said, grogginess creeping back into his voice. "Hey, before you go, could you tell me what this bastard is called? I need to assign a name to the violent things I'm imagining right now."
It was the first true laugh, however short or quiet, you'd had in a while. "Oh, Mason," you said. "His name is Robbie. Technically. I'll get into it later."
"What does that mean?" His last word was a yawn.
"Go to sleep. I'll see you tonight, okay?"
Another yawn resonated through the phone. "Fine. See you tonight. Love you." He hung up, potentially falling asleep before he could put his own phone down.
"Good to see you haven't forgotten about me."
As if you'd gone back in time, that same unease tore into you, robbing you of breath and stealing your equilibrium. It was him. This was what you'd been dreading since before leaving. Behind you stood the most uprooting factor in your life – Robbie was within feet of you, the familiar modulation of his voice immobilizing.
"I thought I'd never see you again," he said, sauntering into your line of sight. "You've been gone so long," he rolled your name off, violating as the syllables left his tongue, "I've missed you."
The absence of food in your stomach was a blessing, knowing the adrenaline contracting your body would have ejected it from your system by now. The thoughts swirling around your head were an amass of chaos; echoes and amplifications of fear and impulses, conflicting in their commands – run! Don't run! Punch! No, kick! Scream! Stay silent! It was all you could do not to fall forward, your knees trembling, readying to give out any second.
"Speak to me with that beautiful voice. I've been imagining it for months now, telling me how sorry you are for leaving me."
What did you have to be sorry for? To him? Snapping your face to his, you snarled, chin trembling. "Excuse me? Sorry? I have nothing to apologize for."
He hummed, the sound nauseating. "You're so cute when you're angry. Is this our first fight?" He circled your wrist in his armored hand. "Let me make up for it, baby."
"Get the fuck away from me, you freak!" You growled, struggling against his grip, flinging your trapped wrist until it broke free. There was a lasting ache where his fingers had been anchored.
"Hey, hey. No need for hostility," he said. "I'm just so happy you're back."
Your heart threatened to burst your carotids, pulsing angrily over your entire body. "Oh, you are? Why? So you can break into my apartment again? Maybe finish the job you'd had in mind before you realized I was gone? Hm?"
This got to him, his hands wringing at his sides as his posture hardened. "I hadn't seen you, and you left without saying goodbye."
"How would you know if I didn't say goodbye? In my memory – which, by the way, is exceptionally clearer than yours of that night – you passed out drunk before I got the chance. Or do you not remember that?"
"You little bitch," he barked, drawing the attention of the passing stormtroopers. "Who'd you tell, huh? How'd you get me fired from Ren's detail?"
Defensively, you took a step back, distancing yourself from his reach. "You did this to yourself, Robbie." Wanting to hurt him back, you pulled your claws out. "Oh, wait, please forgive me. I meant RB-6745. Forgot for a sec-,"
"My name is Robbie." The words tore through his throat as he lunged forward, reaching out to you.
"RB-6745," a voice called from behind him. It was Captain Phasma. "Why have you abandoned your station?"
She walked militantly towards you, her chrome armor glinting with flashes of white as she passed by coupled soldiers. Robbie's hands clutched below his waist, her presence bringing reluctant resolution to his outburst. When he turned, your face fell from its tight contortion of fear, not having realized you'd flinched away from his incoming assault.
"I apologize, captain," he said, irritated at her interruption. "I thought it was my break."
Phasma stopped about three paces from you, staring between you and your masked mistake. "Commander Ren's ex-charge has had trouble adjusting to maintenance duty," she said, your reflection bouncing off of her chrome helmet as she addressed you, turning to Robbie before she continued. "Come. I'll show you back to the engine sector, as you seem to have forgotten the route. Again."
Phasma motioned Robbie to lead the way. He turned back to you, leaning down and bumping your side against his shoulder in his passing. "This isn't over," your name a curse on his lips once more.
Phasma stopped in front of you before following after him. "I didn't come here with the intention of rounding up one of my men, but it seems I can kill two birds with one stone."
Clearing your throat, you pulled your shoulders back, her presence commanding the respect that Hux's never could. "Captain?"
"Commander Ren instructed me to inform you to meet him in his assessment room. He says it's a pressing matter." She marched past you, not waiting for a response.
You stood there motionless, still standing at attention, listening as she led Robbie away. It was easier to stay here, to forget what she'd told you and pretend that there was nothing waiting for you beyond the assessment room hatch. But there was. In your nervous rush this morning, more focused on being extra early for Hux's meeting, you hadn't thought to tidy up your temporary dwellings; the room was still made up with a loose cape draping over the exam table, two stray socks strewn about the room, and an open bottle of hydrogen peroxide – a makeshift mouthwash in lieu of a toothbrush. And now a new addition – clothed in black, hands undoubtedly balled into fists – awaited you. There was a pressing matter, but it had nothing to do with Kylo Ren's well-being and everything to do with your soon-to-be lack of.
Considering it was like wading through mud to break past the shrouds of stormtroopers, your nerves had already worn thin since stepping into the docking bay, but acknowledging how you'd left Kylo Ren last night – his flaming sword of rage swinging destruction around you – the journey back towards the med bay was not one of a casual stride. With a quickened pace the hatch came into view sooner than you'd hoped, simultaneously wanting to get there to explain yourself while also wishing the floor would swallow you whole so you wouldn't have to deal with Kylo Ren's theatrics. Within a couple strides, the door slid open, revealing the undeniable presence of your master.
"This'll be fun," you said under your breath, smoothing over your uniform with nervous hands.
Passing through the threshold, it whirred shut behind you, its motion sending a rush of chilled air over your legs, whipping the back of your skirt to the side. Kylo was on one side of the exam table, clutching the cape, one of his socks hanging loosely from his other hand. Hidden in his helmet, you could only assume the eyes boring into you matched the fury of his fist.
"There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this," you said, tone hesitant and low, guarding against a reappearance of his lightsaber.
His hand stayed rooted in the cape; his warped voice venomously low. "Then explain."
Staying close to the wall, you circled around him, leaning against the metal counter behind you, grasping onto the edges. "I had to sleep here last night."
"That is evident, officer."
"Okay. I couldn't go home last night."
"I can make you talk. You know this." His hand lifted the cape, clutching it up to his chest.
Swallowing, the metal ridges of the countertop bit into your grip. It felt like admitting why you couldn't go home was accepting a defeat, like he'd won the argument pertaining to your need for protection. You chewed your cheek, looking down at your feet and closing your eyes. "I did actually go home last night. I didn't just stay here out of preference."
"Then why?"
"When I got home," you sighed, looking back over to him, "I found my place had been broken into. And I'm pretty sure I know who did it, and I didn't feel safe sleeping there."
"The stormtrooper," he said, dropping the sock to the ground. "That's who you think did it."
"Uh, yeah. There was a maintenance report that said-,"
"A maintenance report?"
His interest surprised you. "Yeah, the lock had been tampered with and the door had been... defaced. Scratch marks, dents. And it had been reported a couple days after our departure for the Finalizer."
"A couple days after seeing him," his voice was eerily calm, like he was only trying to understand you.
You paused to look at him, analyzing the intent that remained hidden with his eyes. "And before I came here, before Phasma told me to meet you, I ran into him. Well, I don't know if I'd describe it so casually, but nonetheless."
His hand came back down, freeing the cape from his grip, letting it pile up on the table. "How would you describe it?" He began circling towards you.
It was too much to verbalize the fear Robbie had incited, wanting to pretend he didn't exist. "I... don't know."
"You're afraid," he said, drawing closer with each careful step. "You think he's watching you, stalking you like prey – that's it, right?"
Swallowing, you wished he didn't possess the ability to feel everything you did, pinpointing your emotions better than you could. You nodded, looking up to his visor, his frame working to consume yours as the distance closed between you.
His hands came down next to yours, brushing the sides of your pinkies with his gloved grip. He leaned down to you, his gaze centered on your eyes. "You can't stay here again." It wasn't darkness in his voice, or even command; he was only stating what you knew as truth.
The sound of his muffled breathing flourished over your arms, your own breathing newly audible. "I know," you swallowed. "I'm not. I figured something out."
"Did you?" His hands dropped from the counter to wander over the fronts of your thighs, skimming his thumbs just under the hem of your uniform. "Tell me, where are you staying tonight?" He leaned into the crook of your neck, the brush of metal eliciting the heat of your cheeks.
You breathed out, his teasing touch evaporating your train of thought. "With a, with a friend."
His leather-covered fingers rooted just below the curve of your ass, his thumbs sliding up and down, streaking sparks in their repetitive paths. "Mm, wrong answer." Kylo dug into your thighs, tearing your feet from the ground, propping you up onto the chilled counter.
The metal bit at your skin, making you seethe at the contrast. He parted your knees so he could stand between them, tracing his hands over the excited skin; the warmth of his gloves washed over you, stealing your focus as they slipped under your skirt once more, his thumbnails dipping just under the seams of your panties. With a steadying effort, you gathered your thoughts. "What? How am I wrong?"
His breath was getting thicker at your ear, his unaltered voice trickling through the modulation at his proximity. "You're staying with me."
In the throes of his distraction, you distantly regarded your meeting with Hux, remembering the surveillance order hanging over you. "I can't," you said, reveling in the feel of his thumbs inching ever closer to the apex of your thighs.
"I'm not asking." Your core throbbed at the nonchalance of his voice, so sure and casual.
At the stitching of your panties, he hooked two fingers below the thin fabric, dragging them perpendicular down your slit; his gentle petting caught your breath, pulling you from your defense. "I'm being watched," you said, the words falling as your lungs did. "I have to at least appear professional."
He hummed, the modulation vibrating down your neck. "Your trial. I thought you were fine with whatever consequences your actions presented."
The tips of his fingers slid between your folds, pressing around your entrance, forcing a small moan from your lips. "I was," you breathed.
The pressure at your entrance slid up your slit; his fingers rolled your clit between them, the seams of his gloves offering an additional friction over the sensitive bundle. His other hand pressed into the pliant flesh of your inner thigh, mindlessly kneading it while your lungs chorused for his touch. "Past tense. Why is that?"
The sensation of the rough leather slick with your want robbed you of words, feeling his other digits stroke over the outside of your folds as they tortured you with their leisure. "I realized," you said, tone shaky, "I may deserve to be here after all."
Just as you were when he'd said them, he was immobilized; both his hands stopped moving, relaxing and resting in place as his head pulled away from your neck, your core pleading for his action to resume. But he only stood there, staring at you beyond the mask, the indecisive path of his eyes evident over your skin.
"Where do you deserve to be?" His voice was low, the modulation cutting out subtly.
Grinding against his hand, begging him to commence his earlier advances, you gaped in front of him, gaze pointedly aimed into his visor. "You know where."
His hand left your slit, forcing a snuffed whine at the absence of his touch. "Tell me, officer. Where is 'here'?"
There was something irresistible about his teasing, sitting here, legs splayed to receive him; your chest rose, absorbing his hidden stare. When he lifted his hands to either side of his helmet, your heart picked up in anticipation, your blood rushing at the prospect of his enamoring face. The locks hissed and he ducked out of his confines, shaking his head to clear his face of any stray strands. Not taking his eyes from yours, he placed the helmet beside you.
He pulled at the fingers of his gloves, separating them from the tips of his digits. "I won't ask you again," his jaw wasn't set, lips slightly lifted at the corners, twisted in the subtlest of smirks.
"Here..." You looked over his features, silently praising his freckles, in awe of how such a sweet feature could be present under eyes so haunted.
"Yes," the tail end of your name rose in pitch, a question, lascivious and redundant.
"Here is," your focus shifted down to his lips, heart fluttering faster imagining them against yours. "Here is with you, as your provider. Appointed by you," your breath shuddered, his lips fluid before you, "under the First Order."
He hummed, face sly as his brow raised and his chin pointed towards you, placing his gloves with his helmet and returning his touch. With his hands on either of your thighs, your body buzzed as your pulse took prominent residence between your legs. His head advanced so the tips of your noses nearly touched, his breath mingling with yours. Flitting between your eyes and your lips, his eyes held the same appreciation for you as yours did him. "It only took you a couple months."
"What are you talking about?"
His thumbs pinched into the crease of your thighs, his fingers splayed over the curve of your hips. With his lips whispering against yours, short shocks lighting at each accidental meet, he closed his eyes, prompting yours shut immediately after. "To listen to me."
He pressed his mouth to yours, lips soft as his need reigned unmatched; it was a collision, a bludgeoning, a massacre of every atom separating you in an attempt to brand his mouth to yours. The intensity residing in his fervor fluttered your heartbeat, your core surging with chaos to find his touch again. Without leaving your lips, he slid you away from the counter, your extremities binding yourself to him as he carried you to the exam table.
Your head fell back over the piled cape, smelling the leather below, admiring its owner above. With your knees framing him, his hands slid down your thighs as his lips fell to your jaw. "Are you going to keep listening to me?" He said, the words divided as his lips traced to your neck.
As he knelt forward on his knees, his arms clutched into the edges of the table at either side of your head, you reveled in the heated shelter of his body. Without prompt, your knees locked around him, wanting him closer, needing him against you. It was in vain, though, his strength too much to overpower. One of his hands reached between his legs, mussing with his belt and layered uniform.
"Tell your friend," he said, seething as his cock sprang away from its constriction, "you found other plans."
Peering down over your chest, you caught view of his length, bobbing as he moved over you. You swallowed, your hands gripped around the flexing muscles of his upper arms. "I can't."
At your ear, Kylo grunted, tearing away from you and sitting back on his knees. He looked over you, palming his erection, face blank while he gathered precum at his tip and smoothed it over himself. "Roll over, then."
There was no emotion to his voice, flat as his face was. You pulled back your elbows and rested on them. When you opened your mouth to contest, his eyes flared in warning, a brow lifting to question if you really wanted to challenge him. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, you gathered your legs and turned over so your chest was against the exam table, face flat against the now warmed leather, hands at either side of your face.
"Better," he said.
Behind you, his hands came down over yours, his nose tracing over the helix of your raised ear. "I'm going to make you cum on my cock, and then tonight, in my quarters, you're going to have another lesson in obedience."
He pulled away, quickly lifting your hips so your knees and forearms bore your weight, the leather slippery beneath your warmed skin. He stood on his knees behind you, flipping your skirt up and pulling your panties down to your knees. Your name was a praise from his lips, a stark contrast from when it had come from Robbie. "Always so wet for me," he said, pushing a finger from your entrance and down to your raised clit.
You bucked into his hand, moaning, needing more. "Kylo, you have to understand, I ca-,"
His touch left you, but quickly came back with full force, smacking against your exposed entrance, a wet echo filling the room. Every muscle below your abdomen clenched, your fists balling at the sides of your head. "I do understand, officer," he said, smoothing his hands over your ass, digging his fingers into your hips. "But you need to understand something yourself," the pleasant presence of a familiar pressure grazed your entrance, stretching you in its tease. "I don't care."
He pulled back on your hips, sheathing himself against the tight, drumming walls of your core. A long, drawn out groan tied itself to an awe-inspired cry, garbling out into nonsense as he shattered your pelvis, splitting you open to receive his merciless length all at once. With your hips high and his hands locking them to his, your walls sparked around him, feeling him throb inside of you.
"It's been too long since this pussy broke for me," he seethed, even out of sight you could hear the strain of his jaw. "Fuck, I forgot how good you feel."
He pushed your hips forward, sliding out of you, absorbing the feel of your walls' compliance as he took nearly every inch from you. As he pulled out, your breath stuttered out in short pants, the hollowness tormenting as he'd just cracked you open. You whined into the table, sweat beading at your forehead, the palms of your hands sliding against the slickened leather. The head of his cock pulsed at the base of your core, stopping a moment before he rammed back into you, your knees sliding back with his force.
He bent at his hips, his chest molding to your back, the whispers of loose tendrils tickling your spine. A hand dipped down over your slit, two fingers running against your folds as he hummed behind you. "Where are you staying tonight, officer? Tell me."
His voice was thick with breath, his words leaking onto your nape. A shiver bloomed goosebumps under his heat, the friction of his rough robes almost painful against your sensitized skin. No matter how he would try to convince you, there was nothing he could say or do that would change your mind. "Kylo, I can't-,"
"Another wrong answer." His other hand snaked over your throat, trapping any words that tried to leave. "You're down for the count with no hope of winning. Give up, it'll be a lot easier if you do."
His hips began a rigorous tempo, slamming into you while his hand tied around your throat and his fingers slid into your slit, his frame completely devouring you, swallowing your body into nothingness below him. He used your throat for leverage, pulling back to meet his thrusts, grunts panting from his lips in beat with his hips. Every slam of his pelvis and swirl of his fingers catalyzed your release.
"You're getting close," he stuttered out between thrusts. "So fucking tight, coming undone – shit – breaking for me. Such a slut, and only for your master."
Beneath his hand, you wanted to moan, to hiccup into the room how good it felt to have him rocking against you. Even though his effort was aimed towards your defeat, you basked in how full he made you, the dull sound of your skin slapping with robes, the squeaks of voice escaping in spite of his grip; you knew you couldn't stay with him, but that didn't keep you from wanting to.
"And you deny it, but you know it's what you want – to meet me tonight, to have our lesson, to please me – don't you?"
He lifted some pressure from your throat, a go-ahead for words. "Yes, I want that," you panted. "I want to."
"Yes," he grunted, his thrusts becoming crazed, coming without a pattern. "Be a good girl, give into in."
"I want to, Kylo," you swallowed, sweat spilling from your brow. "But I can't."
"You can." The hand maintaining your clit wound tighter circles, eliciting a searing need for release just beneath your skin.
"I, I – fuck – Kylo, I-," you could only whine, your body pummeled with his rampant push towards your climax.
"Where are you staying tonight," he hiccuped your name. "Say it. Scream it."
Your walls were quaking, spiraling towards the abyss he'd opened inside of you. All of your senses were trembling, buzzing as you resisted his effort to send you flying over the edge. A pained whimper, filtered through tight teeth, left you, building into a more prevalent cry.
"Tell me!" He yelled, thrusting into you, hitting your cervix in time with his swipe over your clit.
"Fuck! With you, I- Kylo, with you!"
With his body wrapped around you, the simultaneous strike of your cervix and clit, and the pressure clouding your vision – you let go, falling into a riotous, convulsive, all enthralling pit of pleasure. The growl that had resided in your throat, the one that had evoked from your attempt at resistance, had evolved into an endless string of astonished praise; it was a song you'd never sung, yet as he lost himself behind you – his hands bracing on top of yours when he fell forward, crushing you underneath him – he sounded as you did, creating a chorus of cries, a melody only known to each other.
He breathed at your ear, panting rampantly, off-beat with yours as they came between his. The weight of his body consuming yours only aided in the afterglow, your breathing obvious as his chest tided on top of your own. Every now and then he would swallow, the hiccuped sound popping next to your ear as his chin bobbed against your back. The peripheral image of his hands covering yours an added prize to the already hazed satiety which had enveloped you. He laid on top of you as he softened inside of you, staying there for an immeasurable amount of time.
To your disappointment, you couldn't stay there forever; he sat up, a wince leaving you as he slipped out. Behind you came the shuffle of clothing and the clamber of boots as he met the floor. You were still recuperating when he came into view, his hand – gloved, yet again – smoothing over your sweat-stuck strands. As you turned to your side, he flipped your skirt back down, covering you as his cum leaked out from your core and onto leather that lied beneath.
He pinched your chin up, prompting you to crawl up on your elbows, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Twenty-two hundred. You know how I feel about tardiness." There was a regard of fondness as he looked over your sated body.
You could only respond with the nod of your head, peering up at him, admiring him for all that he was in this moment – a beautiful man who wanted you to stay with him. With one last swipe of his thumb over your bottom lip, he gathered his helmet, ducked into it, and left you sprawled about in your own company.
After a few minutes, watching the radar on your watch to ensure his distance, you allowed your guilt to swallow you whole; you had all but promised Kylo Ren that you would come to him tonight, and although you wanted to appease him, to be with him in such an intimate way as to lie next to him, you couldn't risk your life for something as temporary as an afterglow or a rush. Tonight you would go to Mason, a welcome break from all life had thrown at you in the past twenty-four hours.