Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You weren’t ready.

Since the alert had come in that the First Order would be sending a transporter to Orinda, your hands had been jittery. There’d been no indication, no hint as to what your team should be expecting when they arrived. In the four months since you’d arrived at the fuel post, you hadn’t received a single visitor from the brass.

“Hey, Chief.”

The voice called you as you were chest-deep in a pile of fuel-cells. Grunting, you wrenched yourself free, patting the reactor dust from your uniform. Certainly there was some in your hair, too.

“Hey, hi Tonis, what’s up?” You tried to restrain your anxiety to the perimeter of your mind. “Can, uh, can I help you?”

Tonis, your third engineer, sighed, wrangling his hands together as he looked to the ground. “Do you know what’s going on with this transport unit arriving?” His thin lips twisted in a frown. “They’re saying that they might be shutting the post down.”

“Oh, jeez.” You shook your head, grabbing a rag from the terminal and wiping your hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I really, really, really don’t want to be moved. Again.”

Grimacing, you looked at your reflection in the terminal facade. “I know.”

“Orinda’s really great,” he said. “All the different ships we get to work on. And it’s so quiet. And our team is so great--”

“I know.” You mussed your hair, as if shoving dirty fingers through it would improve its appearance. Incredibly, it did not. “They’re only sending three people. I’m sure it can’t be that big of a deal.”

“But that’s the thing!” he said. “Don’t you think that a transport unit with only a few passengers must be here for something super-official?”

Your chest seized, and you cleared your throat, turning back to him.

“Maybe.” You ignored the hot burn of your cheeks. “Guess we’ll see when they get here.”

The terminal blipped, a familiar pattern that indicated the atmosphere had been breached. It’d been awhile since you’d felt like you had the power to summon anything of importance with a single thought. The reminder tweaked your heart.

“Or… I guess we’ll see now.”

Tonis squealed, running through the post. “Hey! Hey guys! The First Order’s here! The First Order’s arrived!”

Sighing, you looked into the terminal again. Four months hadn’t changed your appearance too much. Not that it mattered. Or it might. But you wouldn’t worry about it. Only a little.

You steeled your nerves and walked out of the hangar into the dusty outcropping of the fuel outpost. Flat land stretched for miles in diameter from your station, a rolling pitch of blue mountains in the far distance, the wind whipping across the plains, rustling the dry grass. Shielding your eyes with a hand, you gazed up and spotted the transporter, a blooming black spot in the cloudless sky, quickening the pace of your pulse with every passing second.

It was just a transporter. He wouldn’t be on it. There was nothing to freak out about.

Tonis had gathered the rest of your massive crew--all three of them, him included--and they surrounded you, faces taut with anticipation.

“What do you think it is, Chief?” That was Mirna, your second engineer, a short, wide-set thing, with buzzed hair and a gruff voice. “You think they’re shutting the place down?”

“She already said she doesn’t think it’s that,” Tonis replied.

“Well, yeah, but then, why are they just sending three people?” said Lin, your mechanic.

“There’s plenty of reasons they could send three people,” Tonis said, as if he hadn’t just been agonizing over that very issue just minutes ago.

Mirna snorted. “Like what?”

“An announcement,” Lin said. “Maybe they’re canvassing all First Order planets.”

You nodded, chewing your cheek. “Sure. That could be it.”

“Or maybe it’s a survey!” Tonis was almost wiggling with excitement like the little nerd he was. “Does anyone else love filling out those weird surveys?”

“No, nerfherder,” Mirna teased, grinning. “Just you.”

“Could be an escort.” Lin shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to pick someone up.”

Mirna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Who in the stars could they have an interest in on this planet?”

Blood blazed your face. “It’s a mystery.”

You hadn’t told anyone since arriving what had brought you there or why you’d come. You hadn’t told them when you’d first landed that you still had the cum of the Commander of the First Order leaking out of your cunt. You hadn’t told them that just hours before, he’d held you in his arms, brought you into his mind, and shown you--with a breathless, crushing tangibility--how utterly and completely he loved you.

You hadn’t told them, either, that in the days, weeks, months following your arrival, you hadn’t heard from him at all.

With a dying wail, the transporter hovered and landed, spitting up a ring of dust that smacked you in the face. You sputtered, wiping your eyes, the rest of your crew apparently victims too. Frowning, you crossed your arms, brow cocked as the ramp whined and descended. Something akin to fear needled your heart in the empty space between the sound of footsteps and the emergence of two Stormtroopers stomping to the ground.

Something that was definitely fear gripped it as those two troopers were followed by a man you’d hoped to never, ever see again.

“Engineer.” General Hux had somehow lost none of his smarmy, pink-cheeked smugness--his refusal to say your name was out of petty spite at this point. And his face was just as punchable as you remembered. “I see you are, for once, prepared for our arrival.”

“What sort of facility chief would I be if I didn’t stay on top of our arrival queues?” You hid your hands behind your back to hide their quaking. “Though I believe my rank is Lieutenant, now, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” he replied, with the same amount of disdain he’d probably afford a crying child. “I imagine it’s the lack of distraction.” He smirked. “I loathe to think of the productivity you would’ve had on the Finalizer with a similar environment.”

“Oh, as do I, sir.” You offered him a gleaming smile. “I can’t imagine a punishment worse than being in your good graces.”

“Chief,” hissed Mirna. “That’s a General of the First Order. What are you doing?”

Cursing internally, you pinched yourself, stood straighter. Your team would have no idea why you felt so comfortable mouthing off to a man who, otherwise, might’ve had you thrust into the bowels of space by now--and to be honest, you didn’t have much of an idea why at this point, either. Your presumed protection was hardly a current presence in your life.

You shook your head, wagged out your hands. “Let me try again, sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “General Hux, sir. To what do I owe the honor?”

Hux smirked. “As much as I hate to interrupt, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing to let the word drip with more venom than a snake ever could, “I’m here to order you to come with me onto the Steadfast.”

“The Steadfast?” Obviously the name of a ship, but not one you were familiar with. No news bulletins had made their way to Orinda in the time you’d been stationed. “Why?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter has ceased functioning. Every engineer we’ve brought to it has failed to diagnose the issue.” His jaw tensed in real, actual reluctance. “We were at the border of the Rim, and unfortunately, I thought of you.”

You blinked. He wanted you to work on Snoke’s TIE fighter?

And then another question: Snoke had a TIE fighter?

“Uh…” Frowning, you glanced around at your crew. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them for days on end. “How long will I be gone?”

His face betrayed nothing but pure disgust. “As long as it takes you to fix a TIE fighter.” He watched as you paused in thought. “I wasn’t offering you a choice, Lieutenant. We’re leaving now.”

With that, he turned on his heels, marching up the ramp. A long, slow breath left your lungs, and you turned to your team, scanning their faces for any reaction. To your surprise, everyone but Tonis seemed rapt in excitement, eyes wide and chins wagging in awe.

“I had no idea you were such a big shot!” Lin grinned. The other two nodded in agreement.

Blushing, you rubbed your arm in embarrassment, looking between them. “No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that.”

“You have to tell us the story, one day.” Mirna was smirking.

“Uh… Right.” You coughed. “So, hopefully I’ll only be a day or so, max,” you said. “Mirna, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“You got it, Chief,” she said. “Tonis, my first order is for you to please calm down.”

He shot her a glare. “Good luck, Chief!” He offered you a salute, which was both strange and unnecessary. “We’ll be thinking of you!”

Warmth spread in your chest. “I’ll be thinking of you guys, too. Don’t make too big of a mess, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” they replied in unison--and then broke into laughter.

You shook your head, finding yourself laughing with them. “Okay. See you guys soon.”

Bowing your head, you trudged up the ramp into the transporter, taking a seat far away from Hux and the two Stormtroopers. You wondered why he’d bothered to bring them to a tiny outpost like Orinda, but you supposed that self-importance and paranoia knew no bounds in the higher ranks of the First Order.

As the door closed to the transporter, your heart wrinkled. In the past few months, despite your open ache, Orinda had become your home, your crew had become something akin to your family. You hoped the issue with the TIE fighter was something stupid, like a busted hyperdrive. They were simple to repair, but most engineers wouldn’t mess with lightspeed travel--the mechanisms were so delicate that even a simple mistake could result in splitting the ship.

The transporter rose into the air, and in seconds, it burst into the sky. A windowless cargo meant you could only imagine the faces of your crew as you disappeared into the horizon. You sighed, watching your feet as they jostled with the jerking of the ship. You weren’t sure what the Steadfast was like, but apparently Snoke had moved his operations there. Though you still had no clue what Snoke looked like, you’d never imagined him to be the type to fly--but perhaps a Supreme Leader required multiple skillsets.

The awkward ride finished without a single word being exchanged between you and Hux, which was fine by you, and possibly finer by him. When the ramp lowered, he speared you with his gaze, waiting for the troopers to exit before standing and ordering you to follow him with only his eyes.

You tromped down the ramp into the hangar on the Steadfast--it looked almost identical to the one on the Finalizer. The ceilings stretched high, like a giant’s mouth, the magnetic shields glowing teeth at the lips of the bay. Ships buzzed above you, racing in and out of their docks, the floor crowded with soldiers and officers alike.

The rush hit you--sure, the time on Orinda had been fantastic, engaging, rejuvenating. But it would never match the thrill of working in the presence of fleets and fleets of warships, surrounded by the heady spell of urgent, prestigious labor. You sucked it through your nose, held it in your chest, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on every busted ship they saw. In the distance, a team huddled around the smoking wing of a TIE fighter--you bit your lip to prevent yourself from racing over, from tearing it apart for them.

Another thing you weren’t able to stop looking for was any hint, any presence of the Commander--but in the bay, you didn’t even catch evidence of the Command Shuttle. It was a huge assumption to guess he’d be on the Steadfast to begin with, but part of you hoped he’d trailed his precious Supreme Leader to any place he was ordered. It figured that the one time you might have been within thinking distance, he’d managed to make himself scarce.

Another twine in your heart snapped, joining the collection that’d been unfurling since you’d departed the Finalizer.

Yes, he’d said he would find you. You still believed him now, even.

But really. What was taking him so damn long?

Hux led you to a wide dock toward the very front of the hangar. The crews you spotted along the way seemed detached, working without words, communicating with gestures and mirthless expressions. Tonis’ silly salute would never happen here. You frowned. The lack of thrill was worth your autonomy.

“Lieutenant.”

A snap of your head, and you blinked. You were in front of your charge.

This TIE fighter was unlike one you’d ever seen. Instead of the flat panel wings, this one bore talons, sharp knives capable of cutting space and possibly any ship in its way. Red-paned transparisteel formed the cockpit into a muzzle, imitating an animal instead of a sphere. And it wasn’t a ball suspended on plates, but was rather tucked tight into the body of the ship, creating a seamless, dynamic transition that to you, seemed so new, so modern. It was almost--sexy?

You looked to Hux. “Are you sure this is the one that isn’t working?” Lips parted in awe, you stepped up to it, placing a hand on the solar array. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Supreme Leader has been unable to fly it for cycles, now,” said Hux. “I’m sure.”

“All right.” You rolled your eyes. “Got it.”

What you needed was a post-flight report. You strode over to the nearest terminal and entered your credentials--thankfully, as a Lieutenant now, they were universal to the entire First Order system. Only one ship was logged underneath the access: TIE/vn space superiority fighter: SILENCER.

“TIE silencer?” you mumbled. “Where do they come up with these names?”

You investigated the reports in the past several cycles that detailed the attempts by engineers to get the thing working: thrusters aligned, check. Solar lines flushed, check. Refuel port cleansed, check. Heat calibration reset and replaced, check.

And yet with each new repair--engine test: fail.

Engine test: fail.

Engine test: fail, fail, fail.

Screwing your lips in thought, you landed on the post-flight report, hoping it would provide you with insight. If he knew what was good for him, Supreme Leader Snoke would be thorough.

You opened the report, and paragraphs of information flooded the screen. Your jaw dropped. Every single system had been left with a meticulously in-depth account of its status before, during, and after flight. The level of specificity contained within each sentence astounded you. It was almost unbelievable that a single person could remember this much, let alone regurgitate it with any level of accuracy. You groaned, lost in Basic.

Hux cleared his throat. “How long do you anticipate this taking, Lieutenant?”

“As long as I--...” You stopped yourself with a grumble. It would be much easier to hear it from the tauntaun’s mouth, instead of pouring over and cross-checking every single detail. “I’m not sure, General. Is there any way I could speak with the Supreme Leader?”

A strange, smug look passed over his face. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. “Uh… okay.”

Hux turned on his heel, clipped stride cutting through the hangar. You hadn’t been prepared to meet the Supreme Leader when you woke up this morning, but you supposed anything was possible when working for the First Order. Swallowing, you shut down the terminal, and followed him into the halls.

Returning to a Star Destroyer, in a way, felt like home--the glossy black tile passed like a familiar path beneath your feet, and you spared fleeting glances to the Stormtroopers who passed you. The halls of the Steadfast maintained their similarity to everything else on the Finalizer--though that did nothing to assuage your anxiety about the memories you’d had on that ship. Or who may or may not be on this one.

“Do you work on the Steadfast, now, sir?”

Hux was silent for a moment, gaze trained forward. “Yes. The Finalizer was decommissioned.”

“Wait, really?” Your heart thumped. The only datapad message you’d received from your friends had come in the first few weeks after your departure. You just assumed they’d been busy. “What happened?”

“A Resistance attack left it crippled,” he replied. “Leadership and surviving crew were transferred to the Steadfast.”

Terror seized you, your pace quickened. “Sur-surviving crew?” you asked. “Sir?” More silence. You stumbled to catch up with him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Sir--”

“Engineers Foster and Loren were transferred to this vessel unharmed, Lieutenant.” He leered at you. “Satisfied?”

You heaved a massive sigh, hands falling to your knees. They were here. You’d have to catch up with them, soon.

“Yes, sir, thank you--”

By the time you’d finished, he’d already managed to make it what seemed to be fifty paces ahead of you, and you scrambled to keep up with him.

As you did, a grey-haired man emerged from the corner in front of you both, and Hux stiffened, cursing under his breath. Raising a brow, you tried to meet this man’s gaze, only to bump into the general, who’d stopped, limbs pinned to his sides.

“Shit!” Your face burned, and you jumped back, snapping to attention. “I mean, uh, sorry, General, sir.”

The look Hux offered you was similar to one a parent might offer a simpering child. Right before they murdered that child in a fit of blind rage.

“General Hux,” said the grey-haired man. “Just the one I was looking for.”

“Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux’s chin jutted to the ceiling.

The Allegiant General Pryde turned his attention to you, glimpsing your uniform before meeting your eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted, Lieutenant…”

You gave your name. “Sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“Ah.” His gaze lingered on the fuel cell filth smattering your chest. “Of course.” Something within his eyes categorized you in league with rodents--and something else within them told you he crushed rodents for sport. “Interesting.” His attention whipped back to Hux. “General. Regarding the Council meeting…”

“I plan to present the Supreme Leader with my plan, sir.”

“I know you do,” Pryde replied, “but you failed to run it by me.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. You wished you were anywhere other than this extremely awkward hallway meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

“Forgive me, Allegiant General,” Hux said, “but I didn’t think a basic unit efficiency research required your approval.”

“Everything requires my approval, General,” he said. “Lest we forget the errors of Starkiller Base.”

That was a low blow. You gulped. They both looked at you, and you cleared your throat again, throwing your hands behind your back. The energy radiating from Hux could be classified as skin-scorching.

“Of course.” Hux’s tone grew tighter with each word that left his lips. “I’ll remember that next time, sir.”

“Good.” Pryde glanced between you. “What brings a facility chief from her station all the way to the Steadfast?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter, sir,” Hux replied, still staring into the air. “She may be the only engineer capable of repairing it.”

The Allegiant General frowned. “Really. How many resources did you expend picking up a single person from a remote outpost?” he asked. “Do you not consider this to be something I should know?”

“It was a brief excursion,” he said. “I took two Stormtroopers and a single transport unit.”

“Was that unit’s excursion approved?” He circled Hux, a silvered predator, sizing up his prey. For once, you almost felt bad for the ginger bastard. “What if Resistance staged an attack while you were gone? If we needed that unit for more than a handful of bodies?”

Hux’s lips pursed, chin dimpling with tension. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And how do you think the Supreme Leader will feel knowing you acted without approval, all to retrieve a single engineer?”

Silence drifted like fog over the three of you, thickening as this grey-haired power-laden dickhead glared at General Hux. But Hux’s back had aligned, parallel to the wall, every flicker of frustration fled from his frame. The tiniest hint of a smirk curled at his mouth.

“I think he’ll be just fine with it. Sir.” Hux’s brow quirked. “We’re on our way to speak with him now, if you’d like to accompany.”

Pryde grinned, a serpent’s twist to his smile. “Your confidence has failed you in the past, General,” he replied. “Lead the way.”

You trailed behind the Allegiant General and Hux, fingers starting to quake. Now, you’d not only be meeting the Supreme Leader still smothered in space dust, you’d be meeting him accompanied by the two biggest assholes in the First Order--second only to one other, perhaps.

Unfortunately, that particular asshole was a ghost to this ship, and there wasn’t anyone in particular you felt comfortable asking about him. If Hux had been superceded by this new jerk, the last thing you wanted was another opportunity for someone with rank greater than your own to question you about your personal relationships.

Dread pooled in your belly. Supreme Leader Snoke did know about your personal relationship with the Commander. In fact, Snoke had been the one to insist you be his conduit, among other insulting things. You imagined him bringing it up: Ah, yes, the engineer, the distraction… and how have you been, without his cock inside of you?

You shook your head. No, it didn’t make sense for him to bring up his apprentice’s dick at your first meeting. Or any meeting, for that matter. You hoped.

The two men led you through the rest of the journey in silence, animosity prickling like durasteel barbs in the air between them. At least your own team didn’t regard you with vibrodaggers behind their backs--as far as you knew, anyway--and the realization, against the backdrop of your current situation, had you aching to leave. The discussion with the Supreme Leader would be swift and succinct; you’d get the information you needed, diagnose the problem, and be on your way back to Orinda.

In front of you, a massive turbolift sang its arrival, blast door whirring open. You followed the two men inside, heart tingling. Maybe part of you had been hoping that your long-awaited reunion would have occurred during your time aboard--as you thought it, you tried to stymie the resentment that you’d waited this long at all. The rational part of your mind reasoned that he was a busy man, that lack of contact didn’t indicate lack of thought.

But every other part of your mind was staving off bubbling despair. Four months had felt like four years, and you’d only grown more desperate, more anxious for his embrace--then furious that he didn’t appear to return the sentiment.

You knew how he felt. So it didn’t make sense, then, why he hadn’t acted on it for even a single, solitary night in the past sixteen weeks.

When the blast door opened, you crossed the threshold into an obsidian sanctuary. The floor gleamed, a black lake of glass sweeping into high ebony ceilings that twinkled with artificial stars. The only other illumination came from two enormous spheres that hung, suspended in air at opposite ends of the room, their surfaces a swirl of white-grey light, imitation suns with colorless coronas. At the far end of the room was a hovering stone throne, six dark figures crowding it in a crescent.

Your heart stammered--you’d seen them before. In memories that hadn’t belonged to you. All of them were outfitted in clothing that seemed familiar, helmets that hid their identities, and each of them possessed a weapon meant explicitly for assassination. The only conclusion you could draw was that they were the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards.

Whoever they were, to you, they were ominous.

The two men in front of you strode forward, and you followed, catching your reflection whispering by your shoes: your hair was mussed with evidence of engine exhaust, your uniform still glowing with smears of ionization. Internally, you cursed yourself. Yeah, this was exactly how you’d wanted to look when meeting the Supreme Leader of the First Order--like complete shit. Stomach sinking, you sidled behind them as they stood at attention.

“Supreme Leader,” they said simultaneously.

As if on command, the wall of shadowed soldiers parted to reveal the throne.

But no one was there.

You blinked. “Oh.”

Hux’s head swiveled between the strangers in front of you. “Where is he?” He turned to Pryde. “These are his receiving hours--”

“Yes,” replied the Allegiant Asshole. “But perhaps he’s departed early for the Supreme Council meeting. We’d be better off--”

The turbolift doors wailed behind you, and like synchronized chronometers, you, Hux, and Pryde spun to meet the new arrival.

Your brain went blank.

Kylo Ren crossed the shimmering sable floor in a confident stride, his robes replaced now with padded armor that clung to the contours of his powerful, thick chest, his broad shoulders covered with a hooded cape. His fists, still bound in leather, flexed at his sides--and his face...

More beautiful, more arresting than you could have conjured in any memory, his lips still pink and plush, his nose still a long line, his hair still rolling in waves, like black silk-velvet at his shoulders. You met his eyes as he advanced, finding them guarded, resurrecting every fear and insecurity, tempering them with hidden warmth.

“Generals.”

The voice was lightning through your limbs, its owner a perfect match to the soft baritone you’d replayed in your dreams for the past one hundred and fifty two days. All of your systems leapt to life at once: brain spinning, heart soaring, adrenaline coursing. Sweat soaked your neck, your figure thrust whole into a furnace.

“Sir!” Both bowed their heads.

Gazing at him, then, you realized what was happening. This was his throne. You were working on his TIE fighter. Kylo Ren, your lover, your obsession, your galaxy was now the de-facto leader of the actual galaxy. You weren’t in love with the First Order’s Commander, anymore.

You were in love with its Supreme Leader.

Shock anchored your mouth open. Your eyes welled with latent tears. You grinned in disbelief.

“Dude!” You laughed. “What the fuck!”

Chapter Text

Like the smarmy bastard he was, Hux fought off a smirk. But Allegiant General Pryde gazed at you with what some might refer to as sheer, indignant horror.

Kylo Ren stopped feet from the throne, his gaze wandering your grungy hair, dirtied uniform, the cell filth on your face.

“Hm,” he said. “That’s one way to greet your Supreme Leader.”

Embers tickled your cheeks. Your Supreme Leader.

You looked at the two other men. What was on your tongue: Would you prefer I get on my knees instead?

What you ended up saying: “Uh, sorry. Sir.”

“I believe the Supreme Leader requires an apology a little more comprehensive than uh, sorry.” Pryde stepped forward, as if to explain. “Sir, this woman was brought aboard by General Hux without prior approval.”

Kylo glanced between the older men, stare drifting to you, the darkness in his eyes reviving an animal within you that had been placed on life support.

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t recall providing authorization for this.”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said, “we both know your TIE has been out of commission for several cycles. I thought it prudent to--”

“You thought it prudent to ask a manager of a remote outpost to come aboard the flagship of the First Order. I assume that’s what you’re about to say.” Pryde paused, waiting for Hux’s contrition--but none came. He turned to Kylo. “Sir, again, please forgive me. Had I known he’d be bringing aboard a rim-dweller who would defy your authority, I would’ve denied his request, entirely.”

“Defiance.” Kylo’s gaze drilled you. Much like you had dreamt of something else of his drilling you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pryde balked. “Well, I hardly find it appropriate to address the Supreme Leader of the First Order as dude, for starters.” He spat the word onto the floor like poison. “Really, General, you and her both should be begging for his pardon.”

You swallowed, attention on Kylo, trying to hide your glee. “Please, please forgive me,” you murmured. “Supreme Leader.”

Hux cleared his throat. “My apologies as well, sir.”

“Hm.” If he’d understood your tease, he didn’t acknowledge it. You frowned. Kylo looked to the cloaked mercenaries behind you. “Escort her back to Orinda.”

Disbelief smacked you across the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sputtering, Hux stepped forward. “Supreme Leader--”

“You don’t belong on this vessel,” Kylo said, glimpsing you, then the cloaked figures again. “Report is postponed. Prepare the Buzzard for departure.”

Like droids, they activated and brushed past you, stalking toward the turbolift. The Supreme Dickhead gazed at you expectantly.

“They’re not patient.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “If you think I’m leaving--”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said again. For once, you felt like both of you were stuck in the same flabbergasted pod. “Repairing your fighter has already wasted the time of numerous engineers, we don’t need to add--”

“Perhaps every engineer aboard deserves to have their time equally wasted, General.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. “If you wish, sir,” he replied. “But we could resolve the issue now.”

“We won’t.”

For whatever reason, Kylo Ren seemed dedicated to preventing you from working on this ship, as if he didn’t know your skill level. As if he believed other engineers deserved a shot at it over you. Ignoring the furious trembling of your fingers, you dug them into your sleeves.

“What, you don’t think I’m capable?” you asked, frowning.

Pryde sighed. “Supreme Leader, the Council--”

Kylo pivoted to you. “No.” There was no hint of mockery or deception in his tone. “You’re capable.”

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulder. Tried not to sound hurt. “Then why won’t you let me try?”

Hazel eyes lingered, held you in silence for deafening seconds. There was something very, very tired inside of them.

“Sir,” Pryde said, “as much as I love the rousing debate over whether or not this rimrat should be deemed worthy of working on your starfighter, the Supreme Council meeting is in minutes.” He turned to you. “I believe you’ve been directed to leave.”

You furrowed your brow, but miraculously managed to say nothing. The muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched.

“You’ll get two hours.” He didn’t seem excited about the idea. “After that, you will return to Orinda.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” you sighed. “Sir.”

A huff escaped him. “The Supreme Council meeting.” He turned, strode to the exit. “Come.”

Pryde frowned. “Sir, shouldn’t Hux return her to the hangar?”

“No.” Kylo’s voice ricocheted in the chamber. “She’s coming.”

Something like joy sparkled in your heart. Hux jutted out his chin, smirking at Pryde, who frowned and looked to you. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him. There was a puzzle in his mind regarding your identity, a puzzle he was struggling to put together without the missing pieces. You weren’t interested in offering them.

The three of you followed Kylo into the turbolift. Out of irritation, you stood as far away from him as possible. Awkward quiet settled in the air, and you grit your teeth, ignoring the sting of humiliation at your cheeks. Sure, it was nice he was inviting you to his little meeting, but that hardly compensated for the fact that it had been four entire months since you’d seen him and he was intent on booting you without so much as a parting fuck.

Not that you wanted to fuck him after that stunt.

Mostly.

The lift descended. Kylo hadn’t even looked at you, despite your best attempts at petty distancing. Hundreds of words hung on your tongue, and so few of them were appropriate for the ears of Hux and Pryde. Luckily for you, you could think them, instead.

Jackass.

The blast door slid open, and Kylo exited without response, the two generals on his heels. You lagged behind them, glare boring into the broad-shouldered bastard with the flowing cape.

Can’t believe this asshole was here the entire time, knowing everything, with all of the power in the galaxy, just doing bantha-shit about it.

Stormtroopers passed in formation, nodding in deference to the men in front of you as you turned a corner. The clomping of boots was the only sound for meters.

Leaving you for four months, horny as hell, lonely as hell, all while he was here doing what? Jerking off? As if he hadn’t begged you to stay. Please.

At the end of the hall, a set of blast doors parted, and you trailed the group inside, greeted by a massive, jet-black table with a hologram projector buried in the center. The occupants of about a dozen chairs turned, their eyes stuck to you, assessing you. Kylo crossed to the head of the table, Hux and Pryde taking spaces near him. The only open seats were at the back, relegated for only the most irrelevant attendees. You slunk over to one, sinking into it.

Apparently you’re not relevant to anyone in this room, anyway.

“Who’s this?” A balding officer of high-rank stared at you. “Supreme Leader?”

Pryde leaned forward. “She’s the Chief--”

“Who she is,” Kylo drawled, “is none of your concern.”

Blood heated your face. The room rumbled with uncertainty, but only for seconds.

“Sir,” said an older woman with slick blonde hair, “Multiple locations on Kamino refused entry to officers seeking out junior recruits. Our entry-level ranks are suffering. Requesting additional--”

Kylo glanced at her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Supreme Leader,” said an older, white-haired man. “Surveillance indicates that a fuel depot located in the Inner Rim has received communications from Resistance starships.”

“Have they responded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eliminate them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another, dark-skinned woman inched to the edge of her seat. “Supreme Leader, ground troops found no evidence of Resistance sympathizers on the most recent patrol of Aeos Prime.”

“And the infrastructure.”

“Seems salvageable, sir.”

Kylo blinked, as if the answer hadn’t even mattered. “Move to the next outpost in the system.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

Yet another man cleared his throat. “Supreme Leader, if I may…”

Swallowing, you stared into the gleaming tabletop, tracing the rivets of white light bordering the projector. Voices rose, offering status updates and seeking approval of the man at the head of the room. Obviously, there was nothing attractive about how competent and powerful Kylo Ren appeared in this setting. And this definitely did not tingle pride in your belly watching every single person in this room vie for his favor, knowing that out of all of them, the one he’d fucked was you.

Then again, maybe that was the very crux of the issue. His time and attention was desired and demanded and split between thousands--he directed and delegated an entire, galaxy-wide government. He commanded armies. Strategized operations. Balanced every need, tangible and intangible, with only two hands.

You spent your days bathing in ion dust.

The Allegiant Asshole cleared his throat, breaking you from your pity party. “General Hux,” he said, “didn’t you have your pet project to present?”

All eyes turned to Hux, his face dull with irritation. Lips pursing, he straightened his spine, fingers whizzing over the data screen at his seat. One swipe, a quick field entry, and the projector hummed to life, shooting a blue hologram of a TIE fighter above the table. It flickered, rotating like a display.

“The First Order has regularly demonstrated deficient performance during naval engagements, despite our superior numbers and resources,” Hux said. “After gathering data, we discovered that during our most recent missions, the TIE fighter is regularly out-piloted by Resistance sympathizers.” He tapped the screen, and the hologram split into a cross-section. “Thorough research indicates the TIE model is obsolete.”

The room crackled with whispers, officers turning to each other and looking to Hux, their faces twisted in disbelief. Kylo Ren sat, saying nothing, trained on the display.

Sighing, you gazed at your hands and cleaned your nails. To you, this was obvious. Of course the basic TIE models--the TIE/fo models--were obsolete. The ships were highly inflexible, carried little firepower for their unwieldy construction, and had no hyperdrive application. In comparison to the model used by the Special Forces, the TIE/fo was practically useless.

It was less obvious why these high-ranking strangers seemed unable to handle the truth.

“General,” said a dark-skinned man. “Are you proposing we abandon the TIE corps?”

Hux pressed the screen again, and it zoomed in on an exposed ion engine. “At the very least, the most basic TIE corps is woefully unequipped in comparison to Resistance fighters.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he replied, “our pilots are extensively trained.”

Pryde sneered. “Admiral Griss is correct,” he said. “Our elite troops don’t demonstrate any issue with crushing Resistance burrows.”

“Elite troops are never the ones defending a new occupation.” Hux gestured to the engine blueprint. “We sacrifice our progress because of this antiquated construction.”

“And what’s so antiquated about it?” Pryde sneered. “The construction is based on the Imperial TIE. These ships were a well-known symbol of naval superiority.”

“Updated for modern needs,” added Griss.

Hux’s voice rose a decibel. “Not modern enough, given how frequently a single X-wing will decimate an entire unit.”

You wanted to groan. Against your will, you had to admit Hux was right. Orinda regularly saw straggling, crippled TIEs smash into the valley outside the hangar in attempts to land for repair. Mirna had pulled more pilots than you could count out of blazing wreckage.

“Do you suggest we change the basic TIE unit, then?” Griss asked.

“Perhaps,” Hux replied, “or we move to a different construction entirely.”

The other officers chuckled, murmurs rippling through the ranks again.

“Supreme Leader,” Pryde said, “what he’s suggesting is absurd. Sienar-Jaemus manufactures perfectly appropriate and functional fighters at an affordable price to the First Order. It’s been done this way since the Empire.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat back in your chair. For a General of a government allegedly interested in innovation and progress, Pryde seemed to love sucking the Empire’s dick. The fact that they were refusing to even entertain Hux’s idea was, well…

“Perhaps we should place a double order for the basic fighters, sir,” Pryde continued. “To demonstrate their capability.”

You snorted. “Now that’s absurd.”

Every voice in the room died. Leather squelched, and you glanced up from your nails in time to see a dozen bodies shifting in their seats to turn and look at you. Inwardly, you cursed--you hadn’t had to practice volume control in months.

At the head of the table, Kylo Ren stared. His expression, even to you, was indiscernible. But even if he was mad, you wouldn’t have cared. Not as long as he still intended on kicking you off the Steadfast without another word.

Shrugging, you said, “General Hux is right. The original TIE model is flawed. They lose out one-on-one almost every time.” Kylo still said nothing, the rest of the room too confused to interrupt you. “I guarantee there’s more credits spent on replacement models than it would cost to invest in something more versatile.”

Griss’s nose wrinkled, and he looked between you and Kylo. “I…” When Kylo offered no response, Griss settled on you. “I’m not sure what brought you here, ah… Lieutenant, but regardless of your purpose, you’re surrounded by superiors of the First Order. Don’t speak out of turn.”

“Right,” you said, “I do apologize, sir. But you have to admit that this all is a little absurd. I see busted up basic TIEs all the time. They’re a failure.”

“Yes,” he replied, “and you are?”

“Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“An outpost?” The room echoed with laughter, and you bristled. Griss gestured to you. “Supreme Leader, please, why is this woman here?”

Pryde nodded. “I know you have your reasons, sir, but surely she doesn’t belong in this room.”

“Maybe this woman knows what she’s talking about,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Griss whipped around, leering at you. “Mind repeating yourself, Lieutenant?”

Volume control. Really needed to get better with that.

Gathering a breath, you swallowed your ire. You could not spend all two hours on the Steadfast immediately making enemies with the military leaders of the First Order. Given Kylo’s state, you doubted he’d encourage your attitude.

“My apologies,” you said, bowing your head, “I’m just. Nervous. Being on this ship for the first time.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time on Orinda,” said Griss. “You’ve forgotten the hierarchy.”

“She needs re-education,” said the balding man.

The dark-skinned woman huffed. “Or a demotion.”

“Some form of discipline, surely.”

“Yes,” said Pryde with a glare. “Perhaps that should be arranged.”

Your heart skipped.

“Enough.”

Every person in the room spun, attention on Kylo Ren.

He was still inscrutable. Still gazing directly at you.

A shiver spilled over your spine. Like instinct, your thighs pressed together.

“General Hux,” he said. “Prepare a plan for the replacement of the basic TIE model.” A pause. No one spoke a word. “Dismissed.”

You remained in your seat as the other officers rose, their lips sealed as they filed out of the room. Hux scowled at you--ungrateful prick--and acknowledged Kylo’s order before leaving. Pryde scrutinized you, his focus flipping between you and his Supreme Leader as he stood from the table.

“It’s time to leave, Lieutenant,” he said.

“I need a moment,” you replied, glancing at him. “Sir.”

Pryde turned to Kylo. “Sir?”

Kylo’s face was blank. “Dismissed, General.”

Whatever Pryde was thinking, he didn’t say. He offered deference to the Supreme Leader before strutting out, the blast door shutting behind him.

The moment it closed, the room thickened with heat, like stars vaporized the air. Sweat beaded your hairline, your tongue drying to paper. Every movement you thought to make was paused, paralyzed by confusion. Had it been four months ago, you’d be getting railed on top of the table or in his chair, you were sure of it. But Kylo seemed almost indifferent now. It neutered every response that came to mind.

Here you were, alone with Kylo Ren for the first time since you’d left. He was only meters away from you. And you had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Your time is limited, Lieutenant.”

A reminder he wanted you gone. You shook your head, chewing the inside of your lip.

“The silencer is free to be inspected.”

Indignance tightened your chest. Your face was on fire.

“Or perhaps,” Kylo said, “you’d rather travel directly to Orinda.”

You whirled on him. “So you knew I was on Orinda the entire time?” Your frustration was unfettered. “You knew and just didn’t do anything about it? For four months?”

His stare didn’t yield. “Yes.”

“Yes?” you said. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How do you expect me to respond to that?” More heat gripped your neck. He was still. “Why do you want me gone so badly? You act like you don’t even want me around.”

“I don’t.”

The words were switchblades to your chest. You shook your head, gulped your pain.

“Uh. Okay. Wow.” Sighing, you continued, “But don’t you--I mean. You pleaded with me to stay.”

He said nothing.

“You... I know how you feel. You can’t hide that from me. Do you…” Your throat was tight. “Did something change?”

For four months, you had wondered what had been going on in Kylo Ren’s mind. Seeing him draped in the responsibility of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, hesitation crept into your gut. Within his gaze, perhaps only apparent to you, there was a black, terrible emptiness, like shadows reined in by his rage. Exhaustion hung in dark circles under his eyes and at his cheeks. His presence was as breathtaking as it ever had been, only haunted with the weight of the galaxy.

For four months, you had wondered. You didn’t know, now, if you wanted the answer.

“You don’t belong here.” Kylo paused, then stood, moving toward the door. “Your presence is not warranted.”

“Warranted? That’s not what this is about.” You shot to your feet, intercepting his path. “You knew where I was, and you never once came to me! You left me there! Alone!” He side-stepped you, and you followed him, keeping your eyes chained to his. “Didn’t you miss me?” you asked. “Didn’t you think about me?”

He stalled. Exhaling through his nose, he spoke through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?” you said. “You promised!”

Kylo stood, trapped in your stare, his fingers furling into fists.

“I know how you feel about me.” You advanced on him. “I know it.”

You were so near you could feel his breath, count the individual strands of his hair, bask in the warmth of his body. A short inhale, and memory slammed you like gravity--the scent of his skin, his palms gripping your waist, his lips brushing your ear. The ache in your hands at night when they were not full of him, the bedtime yearning in your limbs when they were not wound around his. You had known him, known him, as if his blood ran in your veins.

This was the closest you’d been to Kylo Ren in weeks upon weeks. Somehow, you only felt further away.

“Why?” you asked. “Why didn’t you find me?” After all of it, he only stared. It lit you with rage, and you bumped your chest with his. “Say something!”

The muscle in his jaw tightened. His shoulders rolled. But he was silent.

A peal of bitter laughter escaped you. Whatever issues he had didn’t mater. You deserved more than what he was offering.

“Wow. Okay.” You shrugged, stepping back. “I don’t know who I was thinking about for these past four months, but it definitely wasn’t you.” Shaking your head, you turned toward the door. “Whatever, dude. Fuck you.”

You took a single step, and Kylo snatched your wrist, whipped you against his body.

“You say that,” he breathed, “as if you haven’t been thinking about getting fucked since you arrived.”

Oxygen fled your lungs. Every blood cell in your body piled onto your cheeks and between your legs. In seconds, you were a throbbing, pent-up, swell of lust.

You swallowed. “Oh, please,” you muttered. “You can’t distract me that easily. You know I need answers.”

“Hm.” Kylo scanned your figure. “So you say.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You tried to peel your wrist free. “Why didn’t you do this weeks ago, huh?”

His face darkened, his hold on you tightened.

“You ask questions that have no answers.”

“Ugh. Get off.” Grunting, you shouldered him, body buffeting his like a flaccid wave. It would’ve been arousing, his strength, how utterly solid he was, if he wasn’t making you miserable in this moment. “You’re so full of it, man. Let me go. I’ll go repair your dumbass ship and you can send me back to Orinda, like you so clearly want.”

“You presume to understand what I want.” His voice was severe, a dull blade. “You will not stay here.” The ghost of a smirk fled his face. “But you won’t escape punishment when you’re gone.”

You shuddered, stuck out your chin. “Your punishments don’t scare me.”

Kylo growled. “Really.” A leather palm cupped the back of your neck, tugged you close. “Such confidence.”

You couldn’t help it. A tiny, excited whimper left you. Kylo shifted, his hand squeezed--

The projector in the table beeped. An incoming transmission. The both of you froze, staring at the blinking request on the interface. You coughed, patted his chest as a signal to answer it. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he released you, crossing to the console and accepting the message.

Hux appeared in hologram form. “Supreme Leader,” he said, voice even more snivelly through the broadcast. “We received a distress signal from Orinda. Multiple Resistance fighters have been detected on radar. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.”

The joints in your body locked. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Permission to dispatch TIE units, sir,” Hux said.

Kylo was still. “Dispatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

The hologram winked out. Before you could process, your feet were moving you toward the door.

“I gotta go.” Your pulse pounded in your temple. The entirety of your crew was down there. By themselves. “I gotta go there. I gotta get there. I’m sorry, I know I said I would repair your ship but--”

“Stop.”

“--it’s probably for the best anyway, I just gotta find some way there, I--”

He spoke your name like a command. You stopped. Stared into his tired, empty eyes.

His chest fell in a small sigh. “We’ll take the Buzzard,” he said. “Come.”

Kylo Ren tread past you, through the blast doors, into the hallway. The tatters of your bewildered heart weren’t a priority right now. You followed him--your Supreme Leader.

Chapter Text

It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to calm down. Your pulse bounded like a rabbit, every thump a reminder of your tightening chest. The walls of the Steadfast washed past in black-silver blurs, your mind wild with fear. Hux’s words replayed over and over, a cruel broadcast in your brain. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.

Realistically, that could mean anything. Pessimistically, everyone was dead and you were homeless.

The thought of losing your crew weakened your knees. For four months, they’d been your solace and something akin to a family. Not like you’d had other real options on that little butthole of a planet--but you’d gotten lucky. You’d made a home out of Orinda; a home where you’d planned to return.

Lip pinched in thought, you joined Kylo in a new turbolift, crossing to the corner again as if he were a disease you wanted to avoid. You folded your arms over your chest, stared at your shoes. If you were homeless, it was anyone’s guess as to what you’d do or where you’d go next. It was clear that your supposed… whatever he was didn’t care for your presence.

Leather gloves scrunched in the silence. The lift arrived, and he stormed off, in expectation that you’d follow. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind him, allowing the need that had burgeoned between your thighs to deflate.

He’d said he would punish you. But you couldn’t think of a punishment worse than going four more months without his touch.

Kylo broke through another set of blast doors into the hangar, officers and Stormtroopers alike snapping to attention in his presence. If he noticed or cared, it didn’t show--he pushed through the quiet floor, furious stride carrying him toward one of the ugliest ships you’d ever seen.

Black durasteel panels formed a long, cylindrical frame, the bow outfitted with a row of rakish teeth and bordered by two guiding flaps. The engines looped like two smooth bricks at the stern of the vessel, the two ends connected by rows of external piping and guarded by a sprinkle of gunning stations. Its blocky build bore a resemblance to a prison transport--if that prison transport was then modified by an eager, unsophisticated halfwit.

He climbed the descended ramp in thundering strides, and you skulked in his wake, only to be greeted with one of the mercenaries you’d seen earlier. You paused, but Kylo passed the soldier, marching toward the stern and abandoning you in the main corridor. The man--at least, you were fairly certain he was a man--wore a mask embedded with breathing tubes, a huge, heavy club in his hands. The weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor. He said nothing.

“Uhm…” You tried to find an introduction, but none seemed appropriate. Grimacing, you offered him a half-hearted salute. “Sir.”

The man did not respond. Face burning, you scurried into the ship, hot on Kylo’s heels.

Few lights rimmed the interior of the vessel, your only guide the resonant thump of his boots along the durasteel slats. It was as dim as it was dank--the deeper you delved, the heavier the air. It was sticky with the stench of war, weighed with iron and brimmed with smoke. And underneath that, a scent you’d only describe as one owned by a pack of panting massiffs.

A chill crept over your scalp. This ship was empty of kindness, barren of mercy. You didn’t need the Force to know that nothing good had ever happened within these walls.

Your fear had you scampering to keep pace. Kylo led you through a flickering hall and turned a corner, swiped a switch. A set of blast doors opened to sharp steps, another pair of doors at the top. Those parted as you approached, light spilling from the Steadfast hangar through wide slats of red transparisteel. You’d arrived in the cockpit.

Six chairs lined the wrap-around dashboard. Two as pilot seats, two positioned at gunning and weapons systems, and two plugged toward the back, each in front of a monitoring station. One seemed to handle communications--or lack thereof, the radio receivers and wiring were all almost entirely torn out--and the other dedicated to internal surveillance. At the latter, a matrix of screens with live feed of the interior of the ship.

Even through the shadowed halls, you could distinguish a handful of prison cells. Each of them was torn apart, littered with metal scrap and half-shorn weaponry. The walls themselves were adorned with sloppy graffiti, one of them decorated by a mural of a massive, five-legged lizard beast. A huge red beam was bursting through its neck. Within the tiny walls were separate collections of cultured artifacts. You knew enough about war to know they were trophies.

Every room also possessed a rumpled, dirty bed. A flash of hall light near one cell, illuminating notches in the durasteel where the head of the bedframe met the wall. Like the frame had been slammed against it. Over and over and over.

You swallowed. On one of the feeds, a body slipped through the hall like a living shade. Pausing, you watched until it disappeared from view. The sound of footsteps whispered, then hummed, then roared. You spun, seeking out Kylo, finding him by the co-pilot’s chair, and darted into the pilot’s spot as if this was a totally normal occasion and you weren’t on a weird deathship surrounded by his weird death bodyguards.

Kylo turned to gaze at you, and the blast doors opened, stealing his attention. In the frame stood another would-be man, outfitted with a ribbed-weave robe and carting a huge plasma rifle. Filth smothered him from his boots halfway up his legs, and his head was obscured by a helmet, not unlike the one you’d known Kylo to wear. This one had two blinders on either side, like this man was a predator.

Like he was a hunter.

Whatever fear you felt for him, he certainly did not feel it for you. He glanced between you and Kylo, trying to ascertain the relationship that resulted in your presence.

“She’s in my seat.” His voice was grainy, like glass on stone, distorted underneath his mask.

You held up your hands in deference. “Hey, sorry. I had no idea this was your seat.” You went to stand, frowning at Kylo, who was studying your every movement. Really had to love how helpful he was being.

“Hurry up,” the man said.

Nodding, you wriggled around the chair with your hands still raised, as if this would offer any form of protection between you and this fully armed guard. He squared his feet and stalked toward the pilot’s seat. You side-stepped him, but he shoulder-checked you despite it, and you stumbled back, wincing.

“What the f--”

Kylo Ren’s saber screamed to life, slicing a divide between the hunter and the chair. He stalled, fists balled, neck rolling to stare at Kylo. You gulped, rubbing your arm, your eyes flipping between him and the crackling rod of plasma only a foot away from the man’s waist.

“Sir.”

“Careful,” Kylo said.

He snorted. “Of a Lieutenant--”

“Kuruk.”

Kuruk pivoted to you, and you met his stare somewhere behind the shield of metal. Whoever was underneath the helmet was rending you apart in his mind.

He shrugged his shoulder and looked back to Kylo.

“Excuse me. Sir.”

The saber disappeared, and Kuruk took his seat at the dashboard. You flushed. At least he’d done that much. You snuck to the back of the cockpit, thinking to sit at the surveillance station, but pausing there too. Every one of these seats could have an owner whose name you didn’t know. Glimpsing Kylo, you threw up your hands in confusion.

Kylo caught this, but did not acknowledge it. “Resistance activity was spotted on the scanners. Get Cardo and Trudgen on the turrets. Ushar gunning.”

“Yes, Master.”

Your eyes widened. Master?

Kuruk fussed with the dashboard, relaying the information, and you gazed at Kylo, examining his body in the same routine you’d practiced nightly with your hands between your legs. Fuck, he was big--the thick expanse of chest rose with a slow breath, and you watched it fall, then watched his neck tense as he turned, attuned to your observation. Heat rushed your spine when you linked eyes. His jaw stiffened.

“Get in your seat, Lieutenant.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Is this my seat? I didn’t know.” You sank into it, shooting him a wide, sparkling smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo swallowed.

The blast doors opened again, the soldier you’d seen at the entrance bursting through and tromping to a gunner console--you assumed this was Ushar. He tossed his club to the side, flicking on the controls and calibrating the sights. The ship itself bellowed to life, rising from the floor, and you gripped the seat, unable to force your focus from Kylo--just as he was unable to force his from you.

The two of you were in competition. That much was clear.

You just couldn’t figure out what the loser would be impaled with--or if that would make them a winner, instead.

The Buzzard shot into the stars, coasting in a direct path toward Orinda. You broke the staring contest, glimpsing the little planet through the cockpit, pulse picking up again. Requests for response unanswered. Once you got on the ground, you’d go find your crew and make sure they were safe. That’s all you needed to know. Whether or not Kylo wanted you to come back was irrelevant.

You met his gaze again, his irises hiding a storm. Blood bit your cheeks.

Mostly.

“Nothing detected on the sensors,” said Ushar.

Kylo glanced at him then turned toward the transparisteel, searing you with a leer before he sat at the dash. You shivered. Whatever you’d done to make him feel this way, his brief glimmers of favor only made it worse. Maybe you did want to fuck him so you could get a chance to figure it out. Or maybe it was just frustrating to know him in ways no one else had while simultaneously knowing almost nothing at all.

The three men operated in silence as you approached Orinda. From space, it seemed normal. With no starcraft popping up, there was a chance it was a false alarm. That it had been a fly-by. You held your breath when you broke the atmosphere, flames whipping the transparisteel. The Buzzard trembled with gravity, diving toward the ground, greens and browns and blues splitting to trees and fields and sea.

Then a flash of light, smog blooming to life, tiny fires swallowing your narrowing field of vision. Air froze in your lungs, nails biting the hard back of the seat.

“Fuck.” You launched from the chair, scrambled toward the dashboard. “No, no no…”

Kylo spun to face you, but you ignored him, shoving between the two pilot seats to crane over the console and peer through the transparisteel.

He stood, looming over you. “Back to your seat.”

His words swum in the tsunami of your mind. The outpost was smothered with smoke. The closer you drew, the dimmer the horizon, until the Buzzard landed on the border of the eruption, the entire sky encompassed with billowing black fog. Every muscle in your chest felt like wire around your ribs, forcing the breath from your lungs. You shook your head, hands starting to tremble.

They were out there. They could be dead.

The blast doors opened, and you whirled to leave, but Kylo caught your shoulder and stilled you.

“What the--”

“Gather the rest,” Kylo said. He was speaking to Ushar. “Spread out and secure the perimeter.”

Ushar nodded, grabbed his club, and disappeared down the steps. Huffing, you wrenched yourself free from Kylo’s grip and stomped toward the exit only to be paralyzed by a very familiar nothing. You growled, unable to even make a fist.

“Dude!”

“You will remain on board the Buzzard until I return.”

The fact you couldn’t turn to look him in the eye made you even angrier. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said. “That’s my crew. They’re my responsibility.”

“Stand down.”

You snorted. “Hell no.”

Two long, slow steps brought him behind you. His presence consumed you like a black hole, crushing you in darkness.

His chest met your back. “Every one of your little quips has gone unchallenged.” Another step, and his mouth fell to your ear. “Do not test me here.”

Warmth flooded your thighs. If he didn’t like being challenged in front of his soldiers, he shouldn’t have put you all in the same space. His own fault.

“I don’t care,” you said. “These are my crew members. You don’t know them. I do. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you even doing this?” you said. “You’re the one who fucking brought me here!”

A pause. Silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant noise of destruction and your anxious, heaving breath. You heard him exhale.

“Kuruk,” he said. “Scout and support.”

Behind you, Kuruk stood, followed by the metal click of him grappling his rifle. You watched, stuck to your spot, as he charged through the cockpit and down the steps. The blast doors to the stairs shut behind him. Then the ones to the cockpit. And you two were alone.

Kylo snarled, snatched your throat--he was a swoop of rage, swiveling and slamming your back to the wall. You seethed, squirming under his grip, unable to hide the smirk curling on your lips as you tried to pry his wrist away. He subsumed you like a star subsumed space, bright hot and pure, and you were a simple nothingness, addicted to his heat.

“You think you have earned my submission,” he muttered. “You have not.”

You wheezed, gazing into his eyes, finding an electric spark of hunger and fury within them. Four months without this had been far, far too long. As long as he was treating you like a stranger, you didn’t want to give in. But that wouldn’t stop you from making this torture for him, too.

“Then what have I earned,” you purred, “Master?”

He sucked in air through his teeth, pinning your body flat--his chest rolled with excitement, his voice raked over lust. “The further you push me, the worse your earnings.”

You bit your lip, bucking your hips against his, feeling a growing bulge between his legs. “You’re ridiculous.” You’d thought he’d wanted you to go to Orinda. Maybe you’d been wrong. “What, is this because I left?”

A huff. “No.”

“Then I don’t get it.” You rolled your pelvis into him again, and he jerked forward, crushing you to the wall. “Why don’t you want me around? What did I do?”

Kylo shifted, panting into your neck, his mouth centimeters from your skin. “Not what you did,” he said, clutching your throat tighter. “What you saw. It will not happen again.”

Some bit of that stung. You saw inside of his mind. “You act like I made you admit it!” It was difficult to speak under the pressure of his palm. “You could’ve just let me go.”

“Hm.” His hand squeezed, and he dragged his hardening bulge along your thigh. “Perhaps I should have.”

So that’s what this was about. Whatever had happened, he’d decided that what he’d shared with you was weakness. And being Supreme Leader meant he couldn’t be weak. Meant he couldn’t have room or time for you. All you were was a living regret.

Frowning, you glared at him, driving your thumbs into the meat of his wrist and throwing his hand from your neck.

“Yeah,” you said, shoving him back. “Perhaps you should’ve.” His eye twitched. A screeching blast broke the air, and you tensed. “I’m going to find my crew.”

You stalked out of the cockpit, blast doors parting for you as you hit the stairs and cut through the halls back to exit the Buzzard. It was one thing to abandon you. One thing to make you leave. One thing to act like he’d never held you, kissed you, or whispered your name.

But it was an entirely other thing to imply he wished it never would’ve happened. The thought pierced your heart, and you steeled your jaw, tried to pull the pain free. You didn’t have time to play Kylo Ren’s newest Game of Repressed Emotion. You had friends to find.

The ramp to the Buzzard was already down, and you hurried to the ground, smacked with the scent of blazing fuel. Embered ash battered your eyes, and you coughed, covering your face with your arm. Under the wailing wind of heat, you heard Kylo approaching the exit, so you trudged toward the outpost, seeking out any hint of life.

“Tonis!” Your voice was eaten by the flames. “Mirna! Lin!” Narrowing your gaze to protect it, you pushed toward the hangar, knowing that if they were anywhere, they’d be there.

Sweat crawled down your nape, scattering over your lower back as you drew nearer to the fire. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, but you supposed that was okay, since they didn’t seem very fond of you regardless. The hangar was beyond the completely engulfed fueling station and therefore impossible to see, but as you curved around the fire, you could discern slivers of it. Edges of the building, and then whole sections.

And your stomach dropped.

Another couple of steps, only to discover the hangar scorched, collapsed in on itself like a shattered greenhouse. You stopped a scream and bolted, careening toward the wreckage to see if you could find anyone or anything among the debris. Thick durasteel girders stuck out of the heap like nails, the ridged ceiling crumpled in pieces and mirroring the fire’s light.

“Tonis!” Your back burned from the heat, but you didn’t care. You tried to find a way in, a way to pull something apart, a way to find someone. “Mirna!” You grabbed a huge wooden beam, hands slipping on the soot, but you fruitlessly tugged anyway. “Lin!”

A ragged shard of wood ripped your palm, and you shrieked, cradling it to your breast in shock. Cursing, you left the mass alone, following the foundation around the corner, hoping against hope they escaped out of the back and were huddled behind the hangar. You approached the corner, calling their names, louder and louder. They weren’t coming to meet you. Again, and louder, and you turned the corner, pleading with the Force that they’d be there.

Of course, they weren’t.

In front of you was a cluster of discarded starship parts, all outdated or malfunctioned or busted. It was a collection you’d gathered since you’d arrived--arranged and created when more parts were added. Each fragment was unique, and when building it with your crew, it sometimes resembled a sculpture. Under the clouds of smoke, it looked like a pile of junk.

Growling, you rushed it, kicking the base and sending it all tumbling to the ground. Your furious hands found purchase and hurled whatever they had grabbed to pieces. A scream shook your chest, and you jammed your foot against a solar array panel, cracking it in half. Underneath, you found an old, pretty fuelcell splinter. You grabbed it in your bloody hand and hissed, pulverizing it with your fist. Grunting, you threw the dust into the air, watching as the firewind ate it all.

You heard the rustle of grass behind you. Your shoulders sagged.

“There are no signatures of life remaining at this station.”

Sighing, you turned to Kylo. He was watching you, face blank.

“Yeah.” You wiped your palm on your pant leg, smearing it with blood. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your hand for the shortest, sharpest moment. Then he met your eyes. “The silencer is still in need of repair.”

You frowned, averting your gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You’d prefer to sleep outside in melted trash.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged a shoulder, crossed your arms. “Dumpster fire and all that.”

Kylo Ren held you in his stare, cape fluttering and hair rumpled in the breeze. Tears stung your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

“Come.”

He turned the corner. Clearing your throat of sadness, you followed him. You allowed him to guide you through the devastation, past the flames, and up the ramp until you were safe in the Buzzard cockpit. And then he left, likely to gather his men before departure.

And then you were alone.

Chapter Text

“Piece of shit.”

Growling, you tugged out another panel from the silencer’s dash. At this point, about a dozen slats of buttons boxed you into the pilot’s seat, crowding you in the cockpit. All of them looked flawless upon inspection, and this new one was no exception. Wires were attached and the circuits were complete, every switch was grounded. You’d gone over a handful of systems already, trapped in this cockpit for hours. The silencer’s refusal to function made no sense. There had to be something you were missing.

The memory of smoke and flames licked at the perimeter of your mind. Yeah, there was a lot you were missing.

Pain burrowed, opened a well in your chest, and you shook your head, rubbing your tired face. There wasn’t time to think about anything else. Sitting forward, you started reattaching the panels to the console. You needed to focus on this. Even though the answer to where you’d go and what you would do once you were finished remained nebulous. Even though you were now apparently unknown and unloved by almost everyone in the universe, including the one man you’d waited on for months.

You caught a sigh in your chest, exhaling into your palms, shutting out the urge to cry. Crying right now was a waste of time. You still had about fifty systems to check, and you’d only read through about half of Kylo’s post-flight novella. Swallowing, you grabbed your datapad from the seat and flipped to the report, forcing yourself through the urge to skim.

It wasn’t like you weren’t interested. Normally this sort of thing was like a buffet for your freakish little brain. But you kept tasting embers on your tongue. Kept seeing your crew--completely unarmed, helpless fuel outpost workers--drowning in destruction. Kept hearing Hux’s voice: Multiple Resistance fighters… Heat gripped your neck, clogged your throat. Multiple fighters for a tiny station. Multiple fighters against three soft, fleshy bodies.

The First Order was not your creed; just your employer. The machine of war had always been an inconvenience to the prestige of working on elite starfighters. You knew that the loss of three cogs was nothing to that machine. In the past, it’d been nothing to you too. But you’d never eaten meals or laughed with or supported those lost cogs when they’d cried. This loss wasn’t just to war. This loss was horrifically and uniquely yours.

“Stop.” You shook your head, tossing your datapad back on the seat. You’d finish putting the console back together, then you’d figure out what to do next.

Jaw tight, you grabbed another panel, and your grip slipped. The sharp edge sliced your palm where the wood had lanced you earlier.

“Fuck!” You dropped it and clutched your hand, seething while you tried to squeeze away the agony. Everything from your fingers to your wrist throbbed, and your chin quaked, tears burning your sight. “Fuck! Fuck!” Snarling, you kicked the panels at your feet. “Fuck!”

The thin cut felt like a sobbing gash. You tore off your jacket and wrapped the sleeve around your palm, wincing when you tightened it to the wound.

“Stupid fucking panels!” you growled, kicking the panels again. “Stupid fucking ship, stupid fucking Kylo, stupid fucking Resistance!” The final kick dented a panel, popped off a shiny button. “Gods!”

You covered your face in your jacket and screamed until your throat crackled, until your lungs were dry. Head spinning, you drew in a breath and screamed again, stomping the floor until dizziness dropped you into the pilot’s chair. Warmth glowed at your cheeks, leaked down your back. Tremors rippled to your toes as you took in a long, steadying breath, exhaling in reluctant relief.

You considered sitting there forever. But it only took two seconds for you to remember how Kylo also sat in this chair thinking of and dealing with everything that wasn’t you before you grunted and climbed out of the cockpit.

The rest of the hangar seemed wholly unconcerned or otherwise ignorant to your tantrum. Wiping your eyes, you hopped to the ground, wagging off the lingering fury in your limbs. Maybe you just needed a walk. You cleared your throat and kept your hand clutched to your chest, the whispering ache pulsing in rhythm with your heart.

In all the hours you’d been in the cockpit, the Steadfast had continued to orbit Orinda. Xi-class shuttles whirled beyond the hangar entrance--probably staffed with crew collecting reconnaissance from whatever the Resistance left behind from the attack. Your feet carried you to the fuzzy blue edge of the magnetic shield’s barrier, meters from vacant space. A quiet hum resonated from its perimeter through your soles.

You gazed into the galaxy. Orinda was a glimmering grain of sand, adrift in the celestial trenches. A fuel outpost turned graveyard. An acceptable casualty of the Resistance. Another home where you couldn’t return. That whispering ache rumbled to a hiss and cast itself over your skin, raking it over with misery, with exhaustion. Your chin quivered. The only place you could think to sleep was the silencer. Eyes falling to the floor, you turned back to the hangar.

“My quarters.”

You squealed and jumped, clapping your hands to your chest. Feet away stood Kylo Ren.

“Shit!” you said, exhaling in relief. “How the hell do you do that?” When he said nothing, you continued, “Like, sneak up on me like that.”

“You’re not perceptive.”

You frowned. “Okay, well…” He wasn’t wrong. You sighed, shrugged. “Anyway.”

Kylo stepped forward, assessing you in your tank top, scrutinizing the tourniquet you’d made of your jacket. “Your hand.”

“It’s fine,” you said, holding it behind your back. “Your quarters?”

His stare lingered on your exposed shoulders, on your neck. “Stay,” he said. “Until the silencer is repaired.”

“That could be as early as next cycle.”

“Given your skill, yes.”

It was difficult to look in his direction. Every worn nerve screamed for his touch. “And then what?”

“You’ll depart to another station.”

You tried to flush the pain from your voice. “So,” you said, “you want me to stay with you through, like, one cycle, and then leave.” You looked to the ceiling in faux-consideration. “Cool. I think I’ll pass.”

Kylo’s eye twitched. He moved closer, tone icy. “You have nowhere to sleep,” he said. “I…” He paused. His tongue rolled in his mouth. “You mean to tell me you prefer the silencer.”

“Well,” you replied, “I’ve never fucked the silencer. I never told the silencer how I felt about it. The silencer has never treated me like a stranger who just walked off the plains of Lothal.” You tapped your chin. “So, yeah, I prefer the silencer.”

He grit his teeth. “You’re no stranger.”

“Sure could’ve fooled me!” A couple of heads turned in your direction.

“Quiet,” he hissed. “It apparently takes very little for you to be fooled.”

“Excuse me?” you replied. “Run that by me again, Supreme Leader?”

“Now your hearing fails you.”

“This is great.” You offered a false smile. “This conversation is going really well.”

Kylo snarled, shoulders bunching with restraint. “You speak this way and then question why you’re unwelcome,” he replied. “Deaf and foolish.”

“Oh!” A frustrated laugh escaped. “Okay, then. Talk to you later, Your Excellency. I need a nap before I keep trying to fix your dumbass ship.”

Shaking your head, you folded your arms over your chest and stormed past him, anger blurring your vision. Stupid fucking asshole--

You made it three steps before a warm leather glove grabbed your shoulder, and you stalled, goosebumps shooting to your hands. Kylo spun you, your face inches from his, your breath fleeing and forgetting to return. His lips trembled, his jaw tightened, his gaze boring into you before it met the floor, seeking to stare anywhere else. The pressure of his fingers was firm, then floating. And then he swallowed, grip crushing your shoulder, his eyes finding you again.

No one else in the hangar would’ve known, looking at him. But this Kylo Ren was familiar to you.

This Kylo Ren was terrified.

“I don’t…” His voice was a feather in the air. “You are…” He averted his attention, stiffening. “You have a home.”

Your chest swelled. Water stung your eyes. “I do?”

“Yes,” he replied, utterly sincere. “But not here. Not now.”

Hairline fractures crept into your heart.

“Kylo.” Your composure cracked. All of you wanted to melt, to disintegrate into his being and know each word trapped on his tongue. There was a reason you could not find him, that he would not unfold himself to you. “Please. Why do you want me gone so badly?”

His lips parted, as if he were about to speak--and he paused. He drew in a breath through his nose. “Complications,” he replied. “Factors you do not understand.”

You stepped closer, throat tight. His breath brushed your nose. “Tell me, then.”

Kylo huffed, shifting on his feet--and his face froze. His limbs locked, muscles taut. His gaze widened, fixated on something over your shoulder. Air leaked from him, like time was slowing to a close. You blinked, looked behind you. But nothing was there.

Frowning, you cleared your throat. “Kylo?” He didn’t even acknowledge you. “You’re really just going to leave it like that?”

His pupils were pinpricks.

It wasn’t like you were heartless. You knew that he was attempting wasn’t easy. But what you were feeling wasn’t a sail on a skiff either. You didn’t just deserve more. You needed it.

“Okay,” you said, backing out of his hold. “This was nice. But I have a TIE fighter to repair. So.” He didn’t respond. Didn’t even move. “Whatever.”

You turned--Kylo’s focus flicked to you. His mouth dropped, like there were words he wanted to and couldn’t speak. Instead, he remained silent, fury simmering in his gaze while you pivoted away. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t think you had to.

When you arrived at the silencer, you clambered into the cockpit, like it was a hole you could hide in until he disappeared. Shame, stubbornness, or surrender--you imagined one of these was responsible for why he didn’t pursue you, but you didn’t care. This ship repair would be your parting gift to him, and you could take off, probably spending the rest of your life wondering how you’d managed to fuck up your affair with the galaxy’s most ineligible bachelor.

Loose panels still swarmed the pilot’s chair. You sighed and put on your jacket, settling in and throwing your feet on the dash. Your hand thumped with irritation as you closed your eyes.

Just a couple of hours. That’s all you needed. Then you’d keep working like the foolish little--

Clank.

You yelped, flinching in your seat.

Clank.

Heart fluttering, you scanned the cockpit before realizing the noise came from outside the ship.

Clank.

It was behind you. Someone was messing with the refuel port. Or the solar lines. You couldn’t tell. Grumbling, you scrambled out of the chair and hoisted yourself up the escape. If they were fucking up this stupid ship even further--

Clankclankclank.

“Hey!” You popped your head free. “Will you...”

For a split second, you’d thought Kylo had decided to rip the solar line access open and tear into his own power supply. But then your vision focused. The man crouched over the ship was a different intimidating masked man dressed only in black. Your stomach twisted. It was the one from the Buzzard. The one who’d shoulder-checked you.

“Kuruk.”

His head whipped in your direction, the talons of his predator’s gaze gouging your chest. He pulled his hands free of the solar lines, his gloves greasy with reactant.

“Lieutenant.”

Previously you’d thought absolutely no one but Hux could spit that word with that degree of acidity. But if Hux spat it like acid, then Kuruk hocked it--dragged it up through his throat and sputtered it like necrotic phlegm.

You crawled onto the dorsal plane with the coordinated majesty of a blurrg, trying not to heave and ruin any level of authority you might have tricked him into thinking you maintained. When you’d made it to both feet, you straightened, as if you did this all the time, and moved toward him.

“What are you doing?”

“Repairing a starfighter.”

You snorted. “Really,” you replied. “Tearing out a power supply is repairing?”

Kuruk jerked his arm, wrenching free another line, spewing collector dust into the air. “Closer to repairing than sleeping in the cockpit.”

Heat rushed your spine, swathed your neck. “Yeah, well…” You examined him, watching as he cocked his head to avoid the blinders attached to his helmet. “At least I can see properly when I work on a ship.”

“Magnification’s built into the visor.”

More heat, this time crackling in your cheeks, drying your tongue. “Look,” you said, “this is my job. I don’t need amateurs screwing it up for me.”

He paused, turned his gaze on you again. “Amateurs?”

You shrugged. “In comparison, yeah, probably.”

Kuruk leaned on his heels, wiping his gloves on his jacket. “I don’t think so.”

“Uh, I do.” This man looked like a weapon. Not an engineer. “What experience do you have?”

“It’s called the Night Buzzard,” he replied. “You might be familiar with it.”

You paused, brow raising. “You…” It was impossible to restrain your laughter. But he didn’t move. “You’re kidding. Right? That’s a joke.”

Kuruk’s hands tensed.

“Dude, that ship’s the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” you replied. “Did you modify it with a boiled chokeroot?”

His head tilted. He rose to stand, so controlled he looked to be fighting gravity. “I can do more work with a boiled chokeroot than you can do with an entire Star Destroyer’s worth of resources,” he drawled. “Lieu. Tenant.”

The hair on your nape stuck straight, your pulse leapt to the ceiling. But the knowledge that Kylo was within thinking distance abated your fear.

“Might wanna get one then.” You grinned. “You’re not making much progress here without it.”

He stared, filthy fingers furling into fists--and then relaxed, the tension sloughing like reactor slime from his frame. Silent, he returned to a squat, rending more lines from their channels. For some reason, a tiny, irreverent part of you was disappointed.

No, that was a lie. You knew why you were disappointed. But this man wasn’t the one you wanted to be taunting into a wild sexual rage. Exhaling, you crossed your arms.

“It’s still my job,” you said.

“And I’ve been told that once it’s done, you’ll be gone.”

“What?” You gawked. “What the fuck? You, too? I didn’t even do anything to you!”

“Debatable.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re mad because your Master didn’t want you to disrespect an officer.”

“No.” Kuruk’s attention snapped to you. “You’re loud.”

Blood drained from your face. “I’m…”

Moments blinked in your memory like a holodrama. Like how you’d spent the entire time aboard the Buzzard thinking about Kylo slamming you against the dashboard and breaking your pussy open. How you’d mentally undressed him, verbally taunted him, physically ached for him. How you’d blazed with hatred for him and stoked it with longing. And how you’d just noted that you were desperate to wind him into a state of frenzied lust so he’d wreck you entirely.

“Oh, fuck.” You glanced at the hangar’s entrance and wondered how quickly you could hurl yourself into the vacuum of space. Speaking of hurling… “Oh, fuck.”

You couldn’t spare Kuruk another glance. With shaking hands, you fumbled your way to the ground, steadying yourself on your weakening knees. There was no way you were going to spend another minute on this ship trying to fix a starfighter while getting thought-eavesdropped by multiple men, one of whom seemed hell-bent on doing your job for you anyway.

All you needed to do was find General Hux and get him to reassign you to another station. You’d figure the rest out later when you had time to process your myriad of losses and crippling rejection. You held your breath the entire trek to the command center, only releasing when the doors opened and you spied Hux at the head of the room, briefing someone on something you didn’t care about.

Wiping your forehead, you trudged over to him. Hux’s gaze darted between you and the other officer, his brow furrowing as you approached.

“A moment,” he said to the man. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”

Yeah, it definitely sounded worse out of Kuruk’s mouth. “Can I get a new station? I, uh, I need a new station.” The officer peered at you in horror. You coughed, standing at attention. “General. Requesting a new assignment, sir.”

Hux’s lips pursed, his eyes narrowed. “The silencer is already repaired?”

“Uh, no. No, sir, it’s not.” You stared at your shoes. “Still requesting a new assignment. I believe my work here is complete.”

A pause hung in the air. Hux observed you like you were a recently apprehended criminal. He sighed.

“Dismissed, Captain.” He waited for the man to depart before turning to you. “What do you mean, your work here is complete?”

It was hard to find the appropriate words. “I mean. Uh. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“No.”

You groaned. “Okay.” A long breath, flooding your lungs with air. “Well. My services are no longer required. My presence is redundant. I cannot return to Orinda. I’m requesting another station.” You exhaled. “Sir.”

Hux’s pink face pinched together. “Something happened with Ren.”

Warmth flushed your neck. “Uh, no--”

“Lieutenant,” he said, like the words were thorns on his tongue, “I unfortunately believe your insight and skill may still be of use to the First Order.”

“Sir?”

“The TIE project has been approved. You may be just the person to manage it.”

You balked. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea--”

“No?” Sharp green eyes pierced you into silence. “I thought you might leap at the opportunity, considering how cruelly the Resistance slaughtered your staff.”

Your heart clenched, your chest speared with pain. Better TIE units wouldn’t save them. But you could at least ensure their loss wouldn’t be in vain. Though you’d never supervised an undertaking of that scale before, the excitement of a challenge glittered in the distance. Glittered, then dimmed under a brooding, Kylo Ren-shaped shadow.

“Well…”

Hux glanced away, gazing through the thick panes of transparisteel, as if offering you any more praise would blind him. “Go to the Supreme Leader. Inform him of my plans.” He offered a slight shrug. “If he disagrees, then so be it. We’ll find you a new station.” The thought was left unfinished--he seemed very confident Kylo would not disagree.

Too bad you disagreed with him. “Yes, sir,” you replied. “I understand. Where might I find the Supreme Leader?”

Hux frowned. “Am I his keeper, Lieutenant?”

A brief, blissful image of your fist connecting with his chin flashed through your mind. You shook it away.

“No,” you said. “No, sir. I’ll find him. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Dismissed.”

Shooting him a glare, you pivoted on your heel, marching out of the command center. All you needed to do was find where Kylo Ren might be by searching the entirety of this huge Star Destroyer. That would be easy.

Chapter Text

“Sergeant, if you could direct me to the Supreme--”

Another officer brushed past you with wide eyes and a tight face, ignoring you completely. This was the sixth one in a row, in fact. You were getting the impression that people were either deliberately ignorant about his whereabouts or too afraid to reveal them.

Unfortunately, this left you with fewer and fewer options to investigate.

You’d been back to the hangar, stopped by the Buzzard (only briefly), tiptoed past the mess hall, and returned to the Supreme Council chambers. Fear stalled you from entering to check, but you hadn’t heard even a breath beyond the doors regardless. The Steadfast was overwhelmingly similar to the Finalizer, barring a couple of important details--namely, the location of Kylo Ren’s quarters. The mirror on the Steadfast was a normal, ‘trooper-filled crew deck.

There was one place you considered he might be. A place where only the Supreme Leader might go.

You made your way toward the turbolift to the throne room, rehearsing your lines. The entire journey was to you a huge waste of time--after all, Kylo wasn’t willing to change his mind for you, so the thought of him changing it for the ginger prick seemed unlikely. Hux thinks I should stay wasn’t a particularly strong argument, but you’d already tried I want to stay, and that hadn’t worked either.

It was pointless. You realized the futility yourself as you arrived at the turbolift and it requested your code cylinder before the doors closed.

Well, fuck. You’d been with Pryde and Hux the most recent time. You didn’t have theirs. There was no way you were getting into the throne room. Sighing, you stick in your code cylinder anyway, as if anything would happen.

Then the doors shut. The lift moved.

You choked on your own spit. There were only seconds to process the fact that your cylinder accessed the throne room before you slowed to a stop. Heart rate climbing, you tried to breathe--and beyond the durasteel, something quaked like a terrible collision, the ripples shaking the lift. That same breath caught in your lungs. That could only have been him. The blast door opened, and you were paralyzed.

One of the massive imitation suns was lodged in the chamber walls, sparking with dying energy. The other spun mid-air, its swirling surface spilling a dim pearly glimmer over the glossy black floor. And in the center of the room stood the silhouette of Kylo Ren, arms extended as he called them toward his body like gravity itself. His head moved to glance over his shoulder.

An inkling of something: joy, maybe. Anxiety. One thousand questions waited to be heard--if you really want me here, why can’t you let me stay, why won’t you talk to me, why won’t you show me, why didn’t you ever come find me for even one night--and you stopped yourself. It’d been four months without someone in your head.

You felt it through the darkness--felt his eyes land on yours. The globes flickered.

He dropped his arms, and the globes remained stable, hovering above him. “Lieutenant.”

The air was thick. “Supreme Leader.”

Kylo was still, observing you. “You’re here for a reason.”

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah.”

Silence. The heavy weight of his gaze dragged you from the turbolift into the throne room, forced your feet to move.

Haloed by silver sunlight, Kylo Ren was something more than your lover, more than the Supreme Leader of the galaxy. He was cosmic and divine, a shadow suspended in space, a nebula of raw, ravenous power. You were drawn to him like a planet, like an asteroid. Like something completely and utterly inconsequential in his glory.

Your approach revealed him from the shade and thickened the air. Wherever most of his clothes were, they were not on him--he was dressed only from the waist-down, the rest of him deliciously bare. Sweat twinkled over his skin, his hair spiraled in wild, humid tendrils around his head. His muscles seemed firmer, somehow larger, and they tensed and rolled under your stare. It was only until you were feet from him that you realized you’d been studying his body with a gnawing, aching hunger.

And it was only until you met his eyes that you recognized that same hunger within them.

You watched his lips move under a current of adrenaline, imagining them gentle and plush and on your throat. They moved again--you realized he was speaking. You shook it away, forcing yourself to his gaze again.

“Have you come to stare?” he asked, stepping forward.

Your heart pounded, and you retreated. “Hux wants me to stay,” you stammered stupidly. “He wants me to manage the TIE project.”

“Hux wants many things he is not permitted to have.”

“Sure,” you replied. “But… uh, I kind of want to do it, too.”

His head tilted. “Really.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. The faces of your crew melted into memory. “I think I’d be good at it.”

Kylo’s eyes dipped over your figure. “It’s irrelevant.” He looked to the floor. “You need to be reassigned.”

“No, I don’t.” You frowned. “I need to be here. I need to work. I need to contribute what I can.”

The spheres flickered again, brighter. “It doesn’t matter.”

You shook your head. “It does matter. The basic TIE units are ridiculously obsolete. The fleets need an overhaul.”

“And they’ll get one.”

“But don’t you see?” You tried to smile. “I can do good here.”

The glow swelled and dimmed. “I don’t care.”

Your face burned. “Seriously?” you asked. “Fuck you.”

“Quiet.” He glared. “Ignorant girl.”

“Ignorant?” you said. “Ignorant to what, you ignoring me for four months? Ignorant to you trying to get me to leave every five seconds? Ignorant to you telling me that you basically regret everything we did?”

“Ignorant to why.” Kylo stepped closer, and you stuck out your chest, unwilling to cede. “You don’t belong here--”

“You’ve made that very clear--”

“--your insistence that you stay--”

“But I can help, I can change--”

“Enough.”

“--things, I can do something if--”

“I don’t care.”

“--if you would just let me try--”

“Lieutenant--”

“You know what, what do you care about?” you snapped.

Above you, the surface of the suns churned, trapped light bubbling inside.

“I wish I could tell you everything I care about, but I can’t! None of it exists anymore. I literally have nothing!” You shrugged. “You were the last thing I had left.”

Kylo’s eye twitched, his throat knocked. Milky holes bloomed on the globes, like albino sunspots. You glimpsed them for seconds, undeterred.

“You know, I--I waited for you.” A bitter laugh escaped you, and you sneered. “I thought about you every single day after I left the Finalizer, from the moment I woke up until I fell asleep. I… I fucking dreamed about you!”

Thin radiant rods speared both exteriors, a long breath filling Kylo’s chest. His fingers folded into fists. But you were too wound, fury spinning from you in loose hot wires.

“And you--you want to go on with your life, being Supreme Leader with your murder club and your fucking, your fucking Force shit, or whatever, kicking me off to wherever, then go ahead! But just know--”

Brilliance boiled below the suns, their auras burgeoning in white, unstable loops. Kylo’s chin trembled.

“I will never forgive you!”

Huge blazes burst to life, but you didn’t care, didn’t care if they engulfed you and him and stole your sight. He was incandescent, shaking, his lips parted and teeth bared, and you wanted to shatter him, wanted the both of you to emulsify in your rage.

“And I will never, ever, stop hating you!”

Darkness swallowed you both--then blinked, banished by blinding, shrieking light. Your mind blanked, you attempted to twist away. The fireless inferno consumed you, blew the world into a barren canvas, and you went to gasp, finding it impossible. You were caught in its arms, arms that seemed familiar, arms that were powerful and warm and gripping you to a desperate, human heat.

You tried to breathe again. Your mouth moved--moved against soft, needy lips, lips that found yours over and over--and this time, light inside of you exploded, ruptured through your skin like dawn. Whimpering, you captured a face between your hands, raked your fingers through thick coils of hair while a palm cradled the back of your head. Those lips pressed yours again, and you finally, finally breathed, waking into the kiss of Kylo Ren.

An elated groan rumbled in your chest, a smile forming against his mouth. Sparks crackled through your nerves, electrified you to life in his embrace. Your anger thawed, then liquefied, spilled desire between your thighs. Shivering, you pulled him closer, slipped your tongue past his teeth, finding the top of his palate and teasing it. Kylo drew in a breath through his nose, his hold on you tightening. With a growl, he curled a fist in your scalp and yanked your head back.

For the first time in what seemed like an hour, you opened your eyes to the ceiling of synthetic stars, glimmering with new life in the darkness. Kylo latched onto your heartbeat, sucking a vicious mark above it--you gasped, and the stars pulsed, as if to echo his excitement. Another shiver raced your spine, and you wrapped your arms around him, trailing your nails over the span of his shoulders. He tensed, teeth scraping your throat, pulling a squeal free.

Words wanted to form, but dissipated under his touch. Kylo Ren was a whirlwind of lust, sweeping you into his storm, and you were his happy, eager casualty. His lips sealed on your throat again, burning another bruise on your skin, and your own lips tingled, lost without his. Grunting, you jerked his head away and forced his mouth to yours, inspiring his tongue to thrust into it.

Kylo was ravenous, kissing you like he could consume you, his hands moving to pull off your jacket, abandoning it somewhere to the side. Your own hands paved paths over his arms, his chest, his back, his flesh like fire under your palms. He gripped your waist, tugged you close, grinding against you--the evidence of his arousal dug into your stomach, and you broke free to moan. Two fingers jammed to the back of your throat.

Further noise was muffled, and your eyelids fluttered as he came into focus. Kylo watched you, captivated as you slid your tongue between his fingers, suckled at them like they were his cock. A feral flame flashed in his gaze, and he depressed your jaw, prying your mouth open and spitting into it.

“Swallow.” His chest was heaving.

A smirk fought its way through his grip. You held his stare and obeyed. The ceiling stars winked.

He huffed. “Fuck.”

Kylo snatched your head in both his hands, pulling you to his lips again. His hips rolled into you, seeking friction, his tongue pushing in your mouth and laving your own. For seconds, you went limp until passion hijacked you and met him in equal fervor. You scratched his sides, bucked against him, greedy to feel him like steel on your stomach.

Not a single articulate thought had managed to make its way into your mind. But thoughts were unnecessary, like performative barriers to the nature of your need--they could only evolve into difficult and stunted sentences. This was a language you both spoke with fluency. Like this, communication was the sea instead of the sand, you could feel him flow like water through you, know his intention without words. A four months absence shedded you of hesitation--you found him just as you’d always rehearsed.

Large hands grappled at the hem of your tank top and ripped it from your frame, those same hands busying them with your bra while he hunched over you, kissing his way down your neck to your exposed shoulder. You shuddered, breathy and intoxicated, your own hands fumbling with his pants. The moment your fingers grazed his bulge, your wrists flew above your head and tacked together with massless bonds.

A stifled laugh left you. “Really?”

“Mm.” Kylo released your bra and tore it above your head, mouth moving to the other side of your neck. His hair tickled, his breath warmed your skin. “My chambers, pet.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself. “You’d think you’d be desperate for someone to touch your cock after four--” He tweaked your nipples, hard. “Ow!”

“Glutton for punishment the moment you arrived,” he murmured. He groped your tits, exhaling as he kneaded the flesh in his hands, like it was a relief to finally touch you. “The next part of you my cock is going to feel is that wet little cunt stretching open.” His lips skimmed your ear. “And then it’s going to feel you cumming for me.”

“Fuck.” You could’ve disintegrated right there, but valiantly remained on your feet, slumping into him. “So you think you remember how to make me cum.”

Kylo grabbed your face in one hand, pinching your cheeks together. “As if it’s a challenge.”

He spun you around and threw you back, sending you through the air on invisible strings. Your back smacked stone, knocked the breath from you, and then your legs flung open, leaving you seated and spread on his throne. A thrill rushed your thighs, and your cunt clenched in suspense. Kylo Ren strode toward you, examining you like a meal, palming at himself through his trousers. The stars stirred, agitated above him.

Your mouth watered as you gazed at his concealed length. Fuck, he looked even bigger than he had in your memories--you clenched again, recalling the sensation of it pushing inside of you.

“You want this,” he said, tracing the outline of his erection. “I can hear it.”

It was hard not to audibly whimper at the sight. You wet your lips and glanced at him; every thought evaporated under the intensity of his stare. Kylo caged you in his presence and encircled your wrist, leaning forward to guide your injured palm to his mouth. Eyes locked on yours, he dragged his tongue along the wound, groaning in his chest as your blood coated his lips. You whined in delighted discomfort, tried to squirm, still bound by the Force to the throne.

All you could do was watch as he swallowed, his powerful neck tensing, his gaze still piercing you. Gods, if only that mouth was on your pussy.

He smirked. “If only.”

Kylo lifted a finger and your feet rose in the air. He started with your shoes, tossing them to the side before working on your trousers, wriggling them free along with your panties and adding them to the proverbial (or maybe literal) pile. Another twitch of his wrist, and your legs parted, his attention falling between them. Now entirely naked, you gulped, wishing you could hide your face in embarrassment and ignore how deliberately he examined your spread cunt. And yet, despite it all, you throbbed.

“Eager thing.” He stroked himself through his pants. “I’ll need to hear you beg.”

You pouted. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten what you earned.” His fingers skimmed your bare thigh, earning threads of goosebumps. “Your indiscretions.”

“Dammit.” You looked to the ceiling--starlight glimmered in bright, enthusiastic patterns. He was enjoying this far too much. “Please.”

He snorted, grabbing a handful of your leg and giving it a firm smack. You flinched, and both palms smoothed over the expanse of your hips, up your calves and back down, all while he kept his eyes trained on your cunt. More gooseflesh--you tried to control your breath, to cease the pulsing of your core, but you were helpless. His hands slipped to your inner thighs, thumbs skating near the crease of your folds, and you whinged.

“Come on.” You bit your lip, offering him a coy glance. “Don’t act like you don’t want to taste it.”

“Of course.” Kylo smacked your thigh again, and you yelped, skin stinging. “But the only thing sweeter than your cunt is your submission.”

He glided toward your center again, and your hips tried to twitch, wanting to snap into his touch. Stoic, he ghosted the tips of his fingers across your swollen heat, a static tangle of bliss fizzing to your clit. You’d imagined this very same scenario--well, without the throne and the artificial galaxy--hundreds of times since you’d parted. To say you weren’t craving it would be a lie. To say that this craving, needled by his touch and the sight of him towering before you, hadn’t now ballooned into a literal, physical need--that would be an even bigger lie.

You grumbled. “Please,” you said. “Please, um…”

Kylo glimpsed you, a flash of a smirk on his face before he settled to his knees and wrapped his arms around your legs, jerking you forward. You squealed, still unable to move, only able to observe as he dragged his nose over your tender flesh, skipping it across your cunt. Wisps of warm breath grazed your slit, teeth nipping shocks of pleasure to your toes. From this angle, you spied the fuzzy pink on his cheeks, the leashed yearning in his eyes.

“Please, Kylo...”

He clucked his tongue in admonishment, sank a bite into your skin. You cried out, wishing you could rein his hair and direct his mouth--

“Demanding little slut,” he said, kissing down one thigh and to the other. “Considering your behavior.”

“Please, Supreme Leader, please…”

He hummed expectantly, grazing his lips toward your cunt.

You whined. “Fuck. Please put your mouth on my pussy.”

Kylo stopped, considering you, noting the sweat beading at your hairline, the nervous swelling of your chest.

“Hm.” He looked at your pussy, then back at you. “Not good enough.”

“Are you--” You sucked your lips between your teeth. Kylo Ren was reckless, impulsive and hot-blooded, but you knew that he’d deny himself as long as possible if it meant breaking you. “Please tell me what would be good enough, sir.”

He shifted on his knees, drawing his mouth across the backs of your legs. “Tell me one of the dreams you mentioned,” he replied. “In detail.”

Blood branded your face, the back of your neck. Why couldn’t he just listen to your thoughts and find out instead? Did you have to say it out--

“Yes.”

You took in air and held it. “Fine. Yeah. Okay.” Concentrating, you closed your eyes. One dream came to mind. “So, I’m, um, lying on my back. And you’re… you’re there. In the dream.”

“As I assumed.”

“Okay, yeah, fine.” You grunted. Concentrated again. “And you’re just kind of, like, kissing your way down my body. Like, from my neck to my stomach…”

As you said it, a phantom pressure caressed your throat and wound over your collarbone, running like a river down your sternum between your breasts. You gasped--the pressure repeated its path, waiting further instruction.

“And then you play with my, uh, tits a little bit.” On command, the Force squeezed them, tugged at your nipples. An excited exhale escaped. “Fuck. Okay. You kiss over my stomach and, like… go lower.” The pressure swept across your stomach, stopping at the apex of your thighs. “And lower.”

“Detail.”

“Ugh!” You whimpered. “You kiss my inner thighs.” Instead of his mouth, the Force slid over your skin, massaging it like he might. But this did not grant your body’s wish--it was the greatest denial you could imagine. Gathering a steadying breath, you continued. “And you have two fingers kind of. Brushing up and down.” Nothing happened, and shame flushed your face. “Up and down my pussy.”

The pressure forked, gently petting either side of your slit. A trembling, frustrated moan fled you, and your head fell back, your walls throbbing in anticipation. Still pinned by his will, the tension in your muscles was spring-loaded--you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“And then you just, um, y’know.” You swallowed a wad of humiliation. “Use the two fingers to open me.” Obediently, the Force peeled your folds apart. Your teeth started to chatter. “And then you… fuck.” You winced. “You put your lips on my clit.”

He snickered. “Good girl.”

All at once, the Force released you--you collapsed on the throne, your legs draped over his shoulders, and the only thing touching your pussy was his gorgeous fucking mouth.

You screamed in relief, voice echoing in the chamber, gripping the sides of the throne as Kylo slicked a flat band through your sensitive, swollen cunt. The sensation of soft muscle on your clit splintered your sanity, and you quailed again, throwing your pelvis forward in brainless hunger for more. Kylo held you fast, groaning as he laved through your folds, taking them centimeter by centimeter, reacquainting himself with your body, your taste.

Plush full lips lavished your layers with a deep, slow nuzzle before kissing their way down, then back up again. His tongue swirled long circles around your dripping core before tightening to your clit, taunting it with gentle, quick touches, and you squirmed, howling from the denial. Ready to plead again, you met his gaze--and were rendered speechless.

Kylo Ren was bathed in a shining celestial sea, a living astrological anomaly. Iridescence shimmered over his skin, his hair woven with black stardust, his eyes like amber comets burning in the pull of your presence. The Supreme Leader of the known galaxy, the most beautiful man you’d ever seen was between your legs, worshiping your cunt. Your heart twinged and cracked, flooded with a feeling so intense you almost sobbed.

Before you could think to name it, Kylo took the bundle of nerves between his lips and sucked. Bliss slammed you like a meteor, a flurry of nonsensical noises flying from your mouth. You clawed at the throne, drowning in pleasure, fruitlessly attempting to catch a breath. If four months had dulled his skill, you couldn’t tell--Kylo was an expert at your body, tongue flicking and dancing around your clit, working you to a frenzy.

“Fuck.” Ecstasy peered over the horizon, and you wanted it to ignite you. Your legs twitched, your walls pulsed, and your lungs cycled faster. “Shit.” It blossomed inside of you, poking at the edge of your flesh. You were going to cum, he was going to make you cum. “Kylo. Kylo--”

Kylo hummed in approval, burying his face to your pussy, suckling hard, slinging you toward a climax you’d fantasized about for--for--fuck, you couldn’t remember, your mind was reeling, your frame was spasming, and you were finally, finally--

“Kylo!”

Like a third sun, you erupted, back arching and toes curling as you ascended into ecstasy. Kylo followed your shifting hips, hauling you through waves of pleasure, until you squealed and twisted away. With a growl, he released you, kissing up to your stomach, rising to his feet while you floated back.

Still cum-hazed, you stared up at him, the stars a luminous spectrum cresting with his desire. Kylo kept his gaze on you, rubbing himself through his trousers before undoing them and pulling free his long, thick cock. You clenched at the mere sight of it, inching forward on the throne as if to convince it inside of you. He huffed, thrusting slowly into his hand--to your embarrassment, you panted like an animal in heat.

Gripping the length, Kylo leaned forward, focused on your pussy. His hair tumbled into his face, his lips parted as he teased the warm, shiny head of his cock through your wet slit, lining himself up with your entrance.

His eyes flicked to yours. “Remember,” he said, his voice like a knife, “you earned this.”

Kylo sneered, snatched your throat in his palm and sank his cock into your hot, aching cunt. You wheezed against his grip--he was so fucking big that despite being pliant and soaked, he split you in two. Fighting for air, you pulsed around him--he drove to the base, a satisfied groan resonating in his chest. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, observing as he eased out, the tight walls of your core coaxing him back in, your muscles shuddering and overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Should’ve fucked you the moment you arrived.”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, “took you long enough.”

Growling, he plunged into your cunt, hitting your cervix--his palm choked a scream, and he rolled his pelvis, dragging out only to thrust deep, again and again. Kylo set a tempo, harsh and cruel and perfect, his hips smacking your thighs, rattling your bones from force. The lack of oxygen buzzed your lips and nose, elevated the torturous brutality to something from a different plane, a plane you’d forgotten existed.

Kylo fucked you like you deserved the pain; every breath hiccuped in your lungs, your pulse hammering in your temple. He was breathless, face taut with focus, furiously pounding your pussy, hollowing a hole to your belly. A sheen of sweat veiled his brow, his stomach tense with the rapid rhythm--his body was a machine, dedicated to destroying you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he snarled, squeezing your throat. “Hm? To get wrecked by my cock?”

You tried to nod, blood beating behind your eyes.

Kylo eased his grip, his pace unrelenting. “Say it.”

“I, I…” You could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence. “I wanted--”

Sneering, he slapped you. “Say it, whore.”

“Fuck!” you cried. “I wanted your fucking cock, asshole!”

His eye twitched, and he pulled out, flipped your ass into the air and smashed your face to the throne. One large palm pressed your back, and then his dick stretched your pussy, breaking you open until his hips hit yours. He hooked his hands on your thighs and groaned, ramming into you, every thrust drilling pain and pleasure. You were his to ravage, his to abuse--and you were whole. Immeasurably, infinitely whole.

“I know,” you said, “I know you missed my--”

Fingers seized your throat and hair, cranking your back to his chest. Kylo loomed over you, his hot, strained breath buffeting your ear, his cock pumping in and out of your slick heat.

“Be quiet and let me fuck this cunt.”

Then something deliciously familiar--the Force was on your clit, a fluid vibration submerging you in bliss. The quick flutter between your legs produced a low, stifled moan, and you clenched and throbbed around his dick, more urgent as you were wrought to the peak. Kylo slammed your core, knocking your head on the stone, strangling the groans that tried to leave his chest. He was possessed, numb to any feeling but the one of your pussy milking his swollen cock.

“That’s right,” he muttered. “That’s right, bitch.” The weightless hand whirled and rubbed your clit, and you sobbed, meeting him in rapture. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you spat, “you, I belong to you!”

He leaned closer, fucking so deep that you shrieked. “Try again.”

“Fuck! I belong to you, Supreme Leader, pleasefuck--”

“Good girl,” he said. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

Euphoria wracked you and you wailed, fracturing under it. Your cunt clamped on his cock as he pumped deep, ripping you from reality and into a visceral, crushing pleasure. A primal sound ground in Kylo’s throat, and he clung to you, tugging your scalp, clutching your neck. His cock twitched with each thrust, pouring warm, thick loads of cum into your pussy. Hips slowing, he heaved, dropping you on the throne, the tails of his latent peak still pulsing at your sore entrance.

Your spirit--or whatever you might call it, something had left your body when you came--meandered its way back, and you slumped to the side. Drool coated your chin, sweat sopped your spine and thighs. Your skin felt like the ash after a forest fire.

Holding a breath, you whimpered, rolling onto your back. Kylo hunched over you, both of his hands planted on the throne’s arms. The stars captured him in a halo, glittering now in placid, cozy swells. His eyes found yours, and his lips trembled.

“Perhaps,” he said, through still-ragged breath, “you should stay.”

You knew from his tone he meant for good. “Well, jeez. I guess.” You grinned wide. “I thought you’d never ask."

Chapter Text

Beyond the transparisteel viewport, space was an opaque, ebony fog, floating in infinite swirls too complex to comprehend. Such comprehension was suitable for say, Orinda—the now barren outpost abandoned to the stars, a mere wink of dust. You sighed, nestling your face into the pillow, gazing into the galaxy. Maybe the Force affected you too, maybe it had wrangled you back to the Steadfast with new and eager purpose.

After all, the last time you’d woken up, you hadn’t predicted that you’d next fall asleep in Kylo Ren’s bed.

But if you had predicted it, you would’ve at least planned for him to be in it.

After thoroughly railing your brains onto the floor and all over his throne, he’d given you the location to his quarters and sent you on your way with a parting kiss. You’d clung to that kiss like an oxygen tank in space—allowed it to walk you to his quarters and tuck you into bed. And maybe you’d expected to feel him slipping in behind you mid-sleep, and maybe you’d dreamed of awakening in his arms.

Grumbling, you rolled out of bed, tossing the sheets off of your body. It made sense; Kylo had been insanely busy as Commander. You’d rarely known him to get more than a few solid hours of sleep at once. As Supreme Leader, you wondered if he slept at all. Another sigh tried to worm its way free, and you shrugged it away, throwing on the only uniform you had on board (yet another complication of your home blowing up—for the second time).

Worrying about your—your, uh… what was he? Lover? Partner? Boyfriend?

You blushed at the thought of calling Kylo Ren your boyfriend. You shook your head.

Worrying about your fucklord would come later. You had a General to report to.

You navigated through the Supreme Leader’s large, insanely white quarters and into the halls of the Steadfast. This time, you hadn’t spent any energy exploring or digging into his privacy. Of course, you respected him and whatever, but you’d also just been too fucking tired. Brains railed out, and all that.

This fact continued to ail you the entire journey toward the command center. It’d been four months without anything larger than your fingers inside your cunt, and your body seemed excited to remind you with each step. Luckily, by the time you made it to the center, your limp had subsided.

As you entered, you spied Hux hovering over one of the computer terminals, badgering an officer about whatever was on the screen. Steeling yourself, you marched up to him, chest out, chin tilted toward the ceiling. When he apparently neglected to heed his peripheral vision, you cleared your throat.

“General, sir.”

“Report, Lieutenant,” he replied, not bothering to look at you.

If nothing else, he was predictable.

“Regarding our discussion yesterday,” you said. “The TIE project.” He continued to study the screen, so you continued to speak. “The Supreme Leader approved it.”

Like you’d activated his Smarm Protocol, Hux rose and faced you, a smirk smearing his face. “Did he,” he said, eyeing your hickeys. “A surprising turn of events.” Before he could provide you with an opportunity to smarm back, he pulled out his data pad, entering something. “I’m approving your access to the expense reports and the most recent performance analyses of the primary TIE fleet.”

“Right,” you said, as if you woke up every morning reading expense reports.

“The First Order needs to lift the basic TIE unit out of obsolescence. Your job is to identify the inadequacies of the main fleet and provide a solution while staying within budget parameters,” he said. “I don’t particularly care how you do it, as long as it’s done. Quickly.”

“Yes, sir.” You had no idea how you’d do that, but you’d worry about that later. “So, would you want me to prepare a written report, or like…”

Hux’s lip curled. “Certainly a former Chief Operations Officer wouldn’t be asking me how to perform her job.”

“All right then, sir, have a great day.” You forced a smile and flicked a salute in his direction before spinning on your heel and striding out of the center.

A new sigh escaped you as you entered the hall, this time in relief. The excitement of a challenge and distraction from grief bubbled in your chest; plus, you welcomed a break from the silencer and all of its drama. You’d never been tasked with a project this broad, but you figured your next logical step would be to head to the primary fleet bay—typically the largest bay on any Star Destroyer—and survey the engineers there. They’d have far better insight than you could gather by reading.

You entered the hangar, scanning the officers for someone who looked to have empty hands and a patient ear. Most appeared occupied, faces glued to their terminals, or otherwise consumed by a half-functioning ship. You frowned. It wasn’t your dream to interrupt a total stranger and quiz them about issues above their pay grade. If the Supreme Council had been any indication, the higher-ups weren’t inclined toward feedback.

Taking a stroll around the perimeter, you’d resigned yourself to picking on one of the least-solemn-looking engineers, since everyone seemed too busy to look you in the eye. As you approached, you peered beyond them to the next terminal. Crowded around the screen were two familiar bodies, each capped with a blonde head of hair.

It had only been four months. But the past couple of days had reduced your resolve to its roots.

“Holy shit.” You moved toward them, faster with each step. “Holy shit!” Heart soaring, you eschewed workplace etiquette. “Holy shit!” you cried. “Sam! Minks!”

They both turned, opening toward you, faces screwed with confusion until their eyes and ears met their memories, and they realized simultaneously that they hadn’t hallucinated. Minks’ face lit up like a nova, and she squealed, leaping toward you and tackling you in a hug. You laughed, wrapping her in your arms, joy glowing in your chest. Then two arms encircled the both of you, and you smiled, looping Sam into the group.

You stuffed the urge to cry. But your eyes were wet anyway.

It was a few moments in the group embrace before the three of you parted, the rest of the bay shooting irritated glances in your direction. Ignoring them, you exhaled with a grin, hands on your hips, giving them each the once-over. Astoundingly, they had changed very little in the four months you’d been apart.

“So?” Minks’ excitement vibrated in the air. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, we thought you were being a big shot somewhere!”

Your neck warmed. “Well, uh.” Maybe you wouldn’t start off your reunion by announcing the decimation of your most recent station and crew. “Hux assigned me to work on this big project to find a way to upgrade-slash-improve the basic TIE units.”

Sam snorted. “The Foes?” he asked, looking at Minks. “He’d be better off just upgrading the entire fleet to the Special Forces.”

“Stars, I know, right?” Minks leaned into Sam with a knowing chuckle. “That model is totally helpless.”

The flicker of affection between them did not go unnoticed. “I don’t disagree,” you said. “But I think they’re looking for a cheaper solution than that.”

“Ah, okay.” Sam shrugged. “Well, I know they were hoping to get rid of the Special Forces model and replace the entire line with silencers.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s going super well.”

You blanched. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s just that almost every single lead engineer on this ship has been asked to figure out the pilot model’s issue. There’s no way they’re going to make more of them until it’s fixed.”

Minks nudged you playfully. “I’m surprised that they haven’t roped you into looking at it!”

“Well…” Warmth crept from your neck to your cheeks. “Actually, that’s why I was brought here in the first place. To look at the silencer.”

“Oh.” Minks’ smile faltered. “Really.”

“Yeah.”

She grimaced. “Ooh…”

Her hesitation made sense. The very last she or Sam knew, you’d been split from the Supreme Asshole since before you’d departed the Finalizer. His plea and your consummation was something you’d kept secret since you’d left. You’d been too afraid to put it to words, as if they would spite you by speaking them aloud.

“... I mean, how is that, is that awkward, or like, y’know—”

“Minks,” Sam chided.

“What?” She frowned, bumping him with her hip. “Friends can ask friends these questions!”

“It’s fine.” Watching them in such easy familiarity revived a whisper of that fear. “We. Uh. We got back together? Before I left?”

Both of them stalled, gaping at you like you’d just spun your head in a circle.

“Really,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial volume. “And you didn’t tell me!”

You offered a wide, embarrassed smile. “I just wasn’t sure how to put it. And then I didn’t hear from you guys for a while, and I got busy, and then I got here, and, y’know…” You rubbed your neck.

Their eyes dropped, noticing the bruises that adorned your throat, and they eased closer together.

“Gotcha.” Minks nodded, her cheeks pink. “Was it weird? Having the Supreme Leader visit you?”

Swallowing, you avoided her gaze. “Uh…” A rock was growing inside your chest. “He didn’t, really.”

She grimaced again. “Oh.”

“Yeah…” He also hadn’t told you he was Supreme Leader. He hadn’t yet explained to you anything that was going on. He hadn’t truly resolved anything with you, it turns out, other than your mutual desire to turn your pussy into a crime scene. “But it’s, uh, it’s fine now.” You cleared your throat, convinced that your words were spiting you already. “You know what was awkward? All those weird scary guys he has following him around. And their weird ugly ship.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You mean the Knights of Ren?”

You balked. “The what of what?”

“You know. They’re like his enforcers.”

“Haha, get it?” Minks giggled. “En-Force-ers?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

“Very funny,” you replied, grinning. “But, uh, no. I didn’t know who they were.” Another thing Kylo had failed to tell you.

“Oh, well, they’ve got some sort of Force-thing going on,” Sam said. “But that’s pretty much all anyone knows. They’re not particularly nice guys. We all steer clear of them if we see them.”

The memory of their quarters aboard the Buzzard—the gouged notches in the wall from the bedframe—made you believe that was wise.

“Right.” The rock in your chest was rolling down a hill, collecting anxious moss. You didn’t want any more opportunities to realize how disconnected you were from your fucklord. “Well, it was really great to see you guys, but I need to get started on this project, so…”

“Aww!” Minks frowned, eyes glittering with disappointment. “How long are you staying? Can we get a meal together? Or something?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “We’ve missed you.”

The gesture soothed your heart. At least your friends wanted you around. And you hadn’t even had to fuck either of them to convince them. You glimpsed Sam for a split second. Recently, anyway.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied. “I’ll be back. I don’t think I’ll be leaving for a bit.” For multiple reasons. “I’ll catch up with you guys soon, okay?”

The three of you clung together in another hug before you released them, bidding them goodbye. Datapad in hand, you made your way to one of the administrative spaces underneath the observation suite and grabbed an open computer terminal. You’d start by reviewing the performance analyses and identify the areas for improvement. And you would absolutely not think about Kylo Ren or how he’d spent the past four months completely omitting you from his life for at least a few hours.

Luckily, your strategy paid off. Dedicating your focus to researching the TIE/fo designs and all of their faults pried away the teeth gnawing at your heart. Working on a project on this scale was like handing your brain a huge ship to fix. It reveled in the opportunity to dissect and solve a problem this complex.

According to your friends, the entire fleet was worthless, and they might have been right. The patterns of failure were consistent—the maneuverability in comparison to Resistance starfighters was embarrassing. At least the TIE/sf models could utilize hyperdrive in a sticky situation. TIE/fo pilots were, frankly, fucked. It made Pryde’s obstinate commitment to maintaining the design seem even more irresponsible than you’d originally gauged.

You remained in the admin room, gathering information and documenting your conclusions past shift-change, only giving yourself a break to gobble a couple of meal bars from the mess hall. For whatever reason, your appetite had crashed since you’d awoken in Kylo’s bed without him. It wasn’t until you felt static fizzing in your skull that you decided to give it a rest.

The thought of returning to his empty quarters didn’t necessarily appeal to you, though the temptation of a shower and a mattress spurred you forward. But between the time you departed the bay and the time you stepped into the refresher, your anxiety had needled itself alive.

Tendrils of it throbbed below your sternum, crawled up your throat, burrowed into your stomach—it was difficult to think, to move, to breathe. In the warm air of the shower, your lungs starved, sucking in breath after breath, attempting to buck the boulder resting on your ribs.

Kylo asked you to stay, you reasoned with yourself. And you knew him to be fiercely protective of his privacy and independence. Still, you felt accepted at arm’s length. He’d avoided your questions. He’d avoided you.

To yearn for his touch, his mouth, his voice—you could bear that. But you withered without his affection, wilted in waiting for the promise of his love.

Shower completed, you turned off the water and wrapped yourself in a spare towel, futilely examining the refresher’s interior. Even if you’d wanted to scrape hints of him from your surroundings, you would’ve come up short. Kylo existed within his quarters as impersonally as a corpse.

Once you’d dried off, you kept yourself covered and waddled out of the refresher, only to stall the second the door shut behind you. Kylo stood at the entrance of his quarters, just arrived. His eyes clung to you like refresher water, sliding down your exposed shoulders and calves.

You folded your arms over your chest, feet curling in on each other. “Uh. Hey…”

Kylo continued to examine you, tempted by the gap in time he’d been able to catch you so exposed. This typically would have resulted in you dropping your towel and asking him what he found so interesting. At this moment though, you worried he wouldn’t find anything interesting at all.

“Sorry,” you said, “I was just going to go to sleep. Are you?” When he didn’t move, you added, “Going to sleep?”

He failed to respond, as if seeing you here had reminded him you’d existed at all. It was one thing to sleep over in his bed after fighting and fucking and making up. It was an entirely new other for you to share his space, insert yourself into his life. The reality of your permanency soaked the both of you like a storm. By inviting you here, he had revoked his right to hide.

Mired in insecurity, the air staled. You thought of Sam and Minks, their easy intimacy at the bay. There was nothing easy about Kylo Ren.

But maybe you were a masochist.

That was exactly what you wanted.

“Well.” You shrugged, blowing out air in a lip-trill. “I’m going to go lie down.”

You made your way to his bed, the weight of his stare like an anchor on your back. He followed, trailing behind you as you slunk naked into bed, flipping around to watch him from under the blankets. By the time he caught up with you, he’d removed his cape—the barest concession that he was considering your invitation.

Gazing at him, your chest ached. You didn’t know how you defined him. You wondered how he defined you.

Kylo broke away, glancing at the floor as he removed his padded outer-armor. Once he’d placed it to the side, he paused, attention running across your figure in his bed. A slight exhale escaped his nose, and he sat at the edge of the bed, peering at you from over his shoulder, his eyes a mirror of the stars—just as complex, just as infinite. But for once, he was not beyond your comprehension. For once, you read his mind as easily as a page.

Keeping his focus, you shifted, reached forward to lift his arm from his side. He watched you, darting between your face and your hands, like a trembling beast in a steel-jaw trap. You drew in a breath and pinched the end of his glove, holding the air as you peeled the leather to the floor. When he didn’t move, you switched to the next arm. The beast remained still, his jaw tense and pupils wide, waiting to see if you would pry the trap open and free his bleeding limb. Holding another breath, you held his wrist and pulled the second glove off, too.

Your mouth was dry. You folded both of your hands over his one. “Lie down,” you said. “Come to bed.”

Kylo endured your stare for only a second, choosing to study the floor instead.

The anxiety that had festered since you’d awoken swelled, cracked your ribs. The reality of your situation consumed you. Maybe the emotional distance between you now was too great—too great by his intent. Maybe he’d never need the closeness you needed from him. Maybe this was it, maybe you’d both admit it simply wouldn’t work and your four months of yearning had been for nothing. Maybe the fact of the matter was Kylo Ren was a galactic superpower, and you’d been doomed from the moment you’d met him.

Tears, unsurprisingly, stung you. You sniffled, shuddering, clutching his hand like it was the last time you’d hold it.

Kylo stiffened. His gaze drifted to yours. He was the beast again, wounds weeping on display.

“I’m sorry,” you began, and then cleared your throat. “I mean, I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for crying. I’m just scared.” You bit your lip. “I know you asked me to stay. I know you told me how you felt. But you also told me how I won’t be close to you again anytime soon, or maybe ever, and you push me away, and you don’t tell me anything about you or anything about what’s going on, and I don’t know what our relationship is, and I’m here all by myself and I’m happy to sleep in your bed but I really just, I don’t know, I want to know what’s going on.” The tears you weren’t sorry for dripped onto his sheets. “Tell me why you’ve been avoiding me. Please.”

You gripped his fingers, but he pulled away. That same hand cupped your face, strong thumb swiping the wetness from your cheeks. Kylo swallowed, glimpsing his feet again before releasing you and starting to take off his boots.

“You needed to be safe.” Once his boots were discarded, he stood, working on his ribbed under-armor. “Orinda was far away from danger.” Rippling muscle revealed itself as he tossed it to the side. “Now Orinda is destroyed.” His voice tightened. “You could’ve…” With an exhale, he turned away, pushing his pants down his thick, tense thighs, until he was just in his underclothes, and he sat again. “I need you safe.” His eyes wandered. “If you’re near me…”

How could anywhere be safer than here with him? Whatever the answer, it was stuck, like the words had lodged in his throat. Hoping to jostle them free, you grabbed his arm, pulling it toward you.

“Please tell me,” you murmured. “Please.”

Kylo looked to you, to the floor, to the space beyond the viewport. A long breath entered his lungs, and he released it.

“You remember the scavenger.”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah…”

“The Force connects us,” he said. “Allows us to speak to each other as if we’re together in the room.” His brow furrowed. “You have no protection against her. If she somehow saw you...” The words stuck again, but he forced them out. “You’re vulnerable.”

“Wait, you serious?” You wanted to be grateful for this admission. But all you could think about was how another woman knew more about him than you did. “You’re connected with her? Through the Force?”

Kylo grumbled, his eye twitching. “She is nothing to me.”

You shrugged. “I kind of feel that way, too.”

“You’re wrong.”

“But…”

His nostrils flared. His shoulders bunched, ready to launch him from the bed.

Honestly, you didn’t know anything about the Force, or how it worked, or what it meant to be connected to someone through it. What you wanted was to feel important—and by offering this, you knew he was giving you that, knew how hard it had been for him to expose this wire of his system. There were more still to be seen. And that was okay, as long as this distance would disappear.

You sniffled again, hiding your face as a sob broke through. “It’s just hard,” you said. “It’s hard, because if you’ve got this Force-stuff going on with her, then I…” Sighing, you wiped them free. “What am I?”

For a moment, he stared, as if the answer was on his tongue. Then he shifted, lifting the blankets from the bed and slipping underneath them with you. You stiffened, easing away but Kylo’s warmth enveloped you, and then his arms did too.

Heat exploded, skin sizzling skin. You shivered, catching a cry in your throat, coiling yourself around him and burying into his embrace. He swallowed you with the ease of the universe, legs locking with yours, pressing you into his chest like there was nowhere he’d rather you be. Another cry fled you, and you sought to meet every inch of him with one of you, wanting to meld to him, wanting to melt the barrier of your bodies, to meet him millimeters beyond the limits of what flesh allowed.

Though you wept until his breast was wet, if it bothered him, you couldn’t tell. Kylo’s hand cradled your head, his fingers soothing your scalp. As you calmed, his lips found your crown, and then your forehead—and then he guided you back so they could find your own.

You sighed into the kiss, snuggling closer, your mouths moving lazily, tasting the soft security that lingered there.

After a moment, he pulled away, and his forehead rested against yours. “Mine,” he said, finally answering you. “You’re mine.”

Whatever was left of your anxiety evaporated, and you relaxed, nodding. No, you didn’t know everything. But this was promise enough to banish your fear.

“Okay,” you replied, inching closer. A smile snuck onto your face. “I love you, too. Jerk.”

Kylo Ren wasn’t perfect. But he was yours.