Archive of Our Own ^beta

~~~

Pain burst over her jaw like the bloom of a bright flower.

Rey spat blood, then looked up and grinned. “Got more?”

Her opponent, a stocky, muscular skinhead, snorted. “Little girls like you should know better,” he said. “You’ll only get the beating you deserve.”

Rey ran her tongue over her mouthguard. She liked the coppery taste of blood from her cut lip. It made her feel real.

She hadn't felt very real lately. Not since...

No. Don't think about that.

She lifted her wrapped fists before her. Her knuckles were already throbbing from the hits she’d landed, but she wanted more. Pain, like blood, was grounding. Pain was proof of her existence.

“Come on, Rey!” Finn shouted from the sidelines, slamming his hands on the railing that separated the ring from the teeming crowd. These illegal fights were held in the dirty basement below Maz’s Bar—illegal not for the scrapping itself, but for the money that changed hands. Funny, how violence mattered less to the law than regulating the flow of cash.

Finn had money on her victory tonight. A fellow street kid, he always bet on her, which was gratifying. And, to be fair, Rey usually won. The last time she hadn’t…

Well, she didn’t want to think about that.

Two months earlier

Her opponent, Kylo Ren, didn’t try to knock her out cold, the way most guys did. Instead, he was trying to wear her out, peppering her with enough bruises to hurt, but nothing that might damage her permanently.

“Come on!” she screamed. “I’m not a fragile fucking flower.”

His low, dark laugh sounded even over the jeers of the crowd. “I know you’re not.”

“Then fucking hurt me.”

He tilted his head, and Rey’s eyes were drawn to the strong line of his neck. He glistened with sweat, his carved muscles—and there were a lot of them—flexing as he paced and moved his arms, staying limber. “I don’t fight to hurt people,” he said. “I fight to win.”

The words sent a shiver through her. Rey was wet under her leggings, had been since she’d first stepped into the ring with this giant. He was shirtless, but unlike many of the fighters in the underground circuit, his torso wasn’t obviously cut in a gym. Scars were scattered over his pale skin, and he had the bulky physique of someone who used his body frequently and hard.

Rey wouldn’t have minded him using her body hard.

“You won’t win,” she said. Rey lacked the firepower the larger, more muscle-bound guys had, but she was fast, tough, and sneaky. She knew pressure points and angles. She could almost always outlast the men who challenged her—part of why her matches were so popular. People fucking loved seeing a tiny girl putting a big man in his place.

“We’ll see,” Kylo said, narrowing his eyes. He pushed a damp tendril of black hair off his forehead, revealing more of the wicked scar bisecting his face, then lunged at her.

~~~

Just goes to show
That the blood you bleed
Is just the blood you owe

~~~

The skinhead was a piece of work. He flexed and postured for the crowd, basking in the attention afforded him for bloodying an opponent’s lip, showing off his horrible tattoos.

Rey didn’t take the crowd’s fickle affections personally. They loved seeing her win, but they loved seeing her lose just as much. She didn’t know if that was because they saw her the same as they saw the other (male) fighters, or if they secretly loved seeing a woman get beat up, but what did it matter? She was here for the fighter’s fee Maz provided, as well as the extra winnings she got from betting on herself. And no one was really here for her, anyway. No one ever was.

This idiot wasn’t going to win. He dropped his guard after landing a shot, as she’d just learned. She always took at least one hit to test her opponent. She’d take one more in this fight… but that would be the last one.

He grinned, showing his black mouthguard. “Ready to get put in your place, bitch?”

Rey raised her hands and beckoned him forward.

Time to teach this dick a lesson.

~~~

I saw you there
Too much to bear

~~~

Kylo hammered her side hard, and Rey shifted her weight to get away from him. It fucking hurt—this guy had fists like Christmas hams. She would be black-and-blue tomorrow.

The thought made her smile. She liked seeing and feeling those bruises in the days after a fight. It gave her existence weight. During these fights, she wasn’t just some pathetic junkyard worker, an illegal with no visa, no family, and no future—she was a person with thoughts and needs and a reason.

Surviving day-to-day got boring. When someone’s fist was in your face, it meant something more.

Kylo's eyes burned into hers as they paced around each other. Again, Rey was hyper-aware of the wetness between her legs. She was often wet during fights, the way she got wet when stealing something or driving a hotwired car; it was a physical response to extreme stimulus, nothing more. She got off to the idea of danger. But with this man, it felt different. More personal. And therefore, a million times more dangerous.

She liked his pale, mole-dotted skin. She liked his intense brown eyes. But most of all, she liked the way he was keyed in to every movement she made. It was almost like a dance, rather than a fight. Kylo wasn’t the usual jackass who got his rocks off beating a woman; he didn’t even seem to notice her sex.

His gaze flicked down to her chest, and Rey revised that theory. She launched a kick at his side, taking advantage of the moment of distraction.

He twisted, fast and agile as a cat despite his bulk, and grabbed her ankle. He pulled, and Rey toppled onto her back on the concrete floor. The breath whooshed out of her, and before she could roll away, he was on top of her.

Rey fought him literally tooth and nail, biting his shoulder and clawing at any exposed skin she could reach. The moment a fight hit the floor with her on bottom, she was fucked. This was when size and strength took over, and speed and trickiness meant nothing. Kylo grunted when she hammered his kidney, then shifted until his bulk pinned her legs apart. His hands pressed her wrists hard against the ground. No matter how Rey struggled, she couldn’t dislodge him.

The referee was counting down the time spent pinned, but Rey’s attention was fixated on the feel of Kylo on top of her: his hips between her thighs, his broad chest brushing her breasts as he gasped for breath. His hold on her wrists was firm, but not brutal, and the control he was exerting to walk right to the edge of pain without stepping over it made Rey shiver.

She hated him. Hated how handily he’d beat her. Hated the way he was staring down at her, dripping sweat onto her face as he waited for the ref to finish the count. She refused to tap out before the ten seconds were up.

Rey never lost by being pinned. It was knockouts or nothing.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She bucked up against him, trying one last time to dislodge him, but all that did was rub her clit over…

Oh my God, Kylo Ren was hard under his black joggers.

He groaned softly at the movement. Adrenaline, lust, and anger mixed in Rey’s blood, and she found herself grinding up against him again. “You fucking bastard,” she whispered as she rubbed her clit against him.

“Sore loser?” he panted, meeting her movements with a rough thrust of his hips.

Fuck, she was about five good rubs away from an orgasm, even though she was pinned on a dirty concrete floor in front of dozens of screaming, sweaty witnesses. Those jeering faces gave Rey the wakeup call she needed. The moment the ref hit ‘zero’ and Kylo released her wrists, she smacked his shoulder.

He rolled off easily, lying on his back and breathing hard as he stared at the ceiling, hands laced over his crotch. She took a moment to take him in—tall, strong, fucking beautiful—before remembering her dignity and hopping to her feet.

The crowd booed her. Rey wasn’t new to this part—she’d lost a time or two, although never quite so pathetically—so she curtsied sarcastically and flipped them the bird. She stormed away, aware of Kylo’s eyes burning into her back.

~~~

You were my life
But life is far away from fair

~~~

Rey took a few more hits from the skinhead. She didn't need them to assess his skills, she just… wanted them. Wanted the way pain burst over her skin, hot and sudden. It never hurt as much as it should with adrenaline racing through her veins—the worst pain would come later, when her bruised ribs were purpling and there was nothing to take her mind off of it—but there was still a sharp sort of joy to it.

The jackass kept shouting, though, stupid sexist taunts, and Rey was tired of listening to his voice. Just another unsatisfying fight. Nothing had been satisfying since…

No, Rey thought. Don’t think about Kylo. About what he said. About what he did.

She took her opponent down with a well-timed strike while he was egging on the crowd. Once he was on his knees, she tackled him to the ground and put him in a submission hold. He flailed beneath her, but most holds were about leverage, not strength, and soon the ref was counting down the requisite ten seconds to an undisputed victory. Her opponent tapped out after only two seconds, and Rey sneered as she released him and pushed back to her feet.

Weak. They were always so weak, just little boys hiding behind exaggerated muscles. He glared up at her, then spat. The glistening gob of saliva landed just shy of her battered shoes.

“Guess this little girl didn’t get the beating she deserved, after all,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the cheering crowd. They loved her again; they always did after she won.

She left the ring, ignoring Finn’s attempt at a high-five, ignoring the fans reaching out to brush her sweat-slick skin with desperate fingertips. Another night, another pointless victory. Tonight she’d curl up alone in her tiny bed in her shitty apartment, body throbbing and mind blurring into exhausted half-dreams. She’d try to think of anything but him and those damn words he’d said, the words he’d proven wrong the very next day, when he’d vanished as if he’d never existed.

You’re not alone.

What a fucking lie. If there was one constant truth in Rey’s life, it was that she was always alone.

Rey burst into the storage room that served as a private space for the fighters.

Phasma, a tall, deadly blonde with a devastating right hook, looked up at Rey sympathetically from where she was seated on a bench, wrapping her hands. “Not great, huh?”

As the only women in this small circuit, she and Rey had formed an odd but close bond. They’d beat the shit out of each other in public, but in private, they had an understanding. Messing with one of them meant messing with both of them.

Rey collapsed on the bench next to her and groaned. “The worst.”

Phasma handed her a bag of frozen peas from the mini-fridge. “Kylo’s good.”

Rey iced her ribs. “Yeah, well, he didn’t need to win like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a fucking gentleman.”

Phasma chuckled. “He’s like that with most fighters, Rey. He’s efficient. Doesn’t like excess drama.”

Rey scowled up at the flickering fluorescent light. “Well, I didn’t need him to go easy on me.” She could still hear the crowd's jeers at seeing her pinned.

“Go easy on you? Didn’t he win?”

“Shut up, bitch.”

Phasma grinned. “I’m just saying, he wasn’t going easy. Look, this shit happens. I've fought Kylo, you know.”

Rey turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

Phasma nodded, blue eyes serious. “He doesn’t hit like the men who hate women. He isn’t sloppy, either. You can’t trick him, and you can’t force him to lose control. He just fights the way he knows how, which is damn good.” She paused for a moment. “There’s a reason he’s so good, you know. I’ve heard his day job is ugly. He’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care about his day job. I care that he just humiliated me in front of everyone.” Rey sighed as welcome cold from the peas sank into her bruised ribs. “Did you beat him?”

Phasma’s expression darkened. “No,” she said. “Got fucking pinned. But next time, I’m going to wipe the floor with him.”

Rey chuckled, then groaned when the laugh made her ribs ache. “Me, too. Fucking prick.”

Someone knocked on the door, then opened it. “Phas? You ready?” It was Kaydel, one of the petite, pretty announcers. In her short schoolgirl outfit, she hardly looked threatening, but Rey knew from a few bar fights that Kay was far more dangerous than she seemed.

Phasma stood up, then bounced on her toes. “Ready as ever. Who do I get to emasculate today?”

Kaydel led her off, and Rey was left staring down at her wrapped hands. Blood stained one edge of the wrapping. She flexed her knuckles, relishing the creak in her bones and the sting in her skin.

“Rey.”

She shot to her feet at the familiar voice, putting her hands up in front of her. “What the fuck?”

Kylo Ren stood in the doorway. He raised his hands, palms open. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

He looked even better than he had before the fight. His cheekbone was bruising, his longish hair was damp and straggly, and his black sweater clung to his muscled torso. A pair of massive ears poked out from under his hair, but it didn’t diminish his attractiveness. If anything, it made her like him more. He wasn’t some chiseled Instagram model like Poe, who was in it for the likes. He was big and strong and raw.

No matter how hot he was, though, this specimen had just humiliated her in public. She glared at him. “What do you want?”

He stepped into the room, then closed the door behind him. The quiet yet final sound made Rey shiver. They were alone, and Rey was still wet from the fight, and she found herself wanting to lick Kylo to taste his distinctive mix of sweat and blood.

He’s dangerous. He looked it, with that scar running down his face and those huge muscles. The thought only turned Rey on more.

“Are you okay?” he asked in that low, rumbling voice.

Rey stiffened. “Do you ask all your opponents that after a fight?” she asked in a sharp voice.

“Only you.”

“Well, I don’t need your sexism or condescension or whatever.” Rey turned her head aside, focusing on the pitted and chipped cinder block wall. “So how about you fuck off with asking me if I’m okay.”

“Fine,” he said, short and sharp. But rather than leaving, he strode towards her. Rey was a millisecond too late realizing what was happening, and he took the opportunity to crowd her into the wall, one hand clenched hard on her jaw. Rey should have made at least an effort to push him away, but she held still under his hold, captivated by the raw need painted on those severely beautiful features.

His eyes flicked between hers, and the hand on her jaw slid to cup the back of her head. Then his lips crashed down over hers, and Rey was lost.

Rey usually stuck around to watch Phasma and Poe fight, but after her unsatisfying victory over the skinhead, she unwrapped her hands, shrugged on her tattered gray sweatshirt, and grabbed her gym bag before jogging up the back stairs. Sometimes groupies hung around the front of the bar, and when Rey was in the mood, she’d go out and chat with them, but tonight she definitely wasn’t in the mood.

The metal door swung open under her hands, and a burst of cold air wrapped around her. She gasped, shivering as the chill wind brushed her sweaty skin, then put her hood up over her trademark three buns.

Her sweatshirt wasn’t thick enough for the weather tonight, and she had a ten-block walk back home through the grimy streets. She rested a hand on her battered gym bag, trying to resist the temptation that lurked within. She should at least wait until she was home. Show some dignity.

But the wind sliced through her again, making her shudder, and she gave up the fight. She dumped the bag on the ground and dug through it until she pulled out a huge, soft black sweater.

It still smelled like him. Sweat, the pine-smell of some bathing product, the faintest hint of coppery blood. When she pulled it on over her head, the hem dropped almost to her knees.

She put a finger through the hole in the right side, wondering again what had happened. He had a scar on his torso there, something that looked like the puckered imprint of a gunshot wound. Rey had brushed her lips over that scar, along with all his other scars. She’d told him he wasn’t alone, either.

She’d given him a piece of herself she hadn’t even known still existed, something soft and yearning that still believed in happy endings. And he’d taken and taken, sucking all of her in greedily, promising her everything if she’d be with him. Foolish girl that she was, she’d believed him.

And then she’d woken up in her tiny bed all alone, with only his sweater left on her pillow.

Rey should burn the thing, she really should. She certainly shouldn’t keep wearing it like some talisman, like maybe it would bring him back.

Maybe tomorrow she would burn it.

She grabbed her gym bag and headed out into the night, one arm wrapped around her waist to hold in the warmth.

~~~

Fool me once, fool me twice
Are you death or paradise?

~~~

He kissed her furiously, mouth working over hers in hard, hungry strokes, like he was trying to eat her alive. Rey plunged her hands into his hair and kissed him back, giving him exactly as much passion as he gave her. When she bit his plush lower lip, he moaned and kissed her even harder.

Her mouth tasted like copper, whether from one of his cuts or hers, she didn't know, but she couldn’t stop. She was burning up, her skin prickling and flushed, her cunt clenching around nothing as she soaked her underwear.

He broke away with a gasp. Rey tried to follow him, but he held her back with a tug against her hair that made her mewl and arch her spine. She stared at him through half-lidded eyes, captivated by the red shine of blood on his mouth.

“Not here,” he said, the thumb of his free hand brushing over her lip.

“Your place?”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

Rey wanted to ask why, but a larger part of her wanted to get fucked as soon as possible, so she didn’t pry. “My place, then.”

He nodded and kissed her once more, softly this time.

They barely talked on the way to her apartment. The ten-block walk flew by, and soon they were tangled together in the graffitied stairwell of her building, lips locked under the flickering fluorescent lights. They stumbled up the stairs, kissing and kissing and kissing. They kissed at Rey’s door, while she fumbled in her gym bag for her keys. The moment she flipped the deadbolt behind them, Kylo lifted her in his arms and pinned her against the door, mouth ravaging hers until her lips felt sore and swollen.

She hooked her ankles behind his back and rocked against him, flying high on the feeling of being carried with such ease by this monstrously huge man. His body was honed for violence, and right now, it was hers.

Rey had always appreciated power, probably because she’d wielded so little of it growing up half on the streets, half in that jackass Plutt’s junkyard, without a birth certificate or anything that might let her establish a real life. She’d only known her name when Plutt had found her curled up in a scrapped car. She hadn’t even known how old she was, and she’d been so thin and malnourished, no one else had been able to tell, either. The best she could figure, she was between eighteen and twenty years old now. Fighting was the only power she had, and that had taken years of being on the wrong end of too many fists to develop. Kylo Ren, though—his entire body was a monument to power. She squeezed his muscled shoulders and pressed her chest against him as she licked and sucked her way down his neck. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, and she shivered as she raked them over his firm pectorals.

“You probably have a bigger cup size than me,” she groused.

Kylo chuckled, then turned and carried her the few feet to her bed. He tossed her onto the twin-sized mattress, which groaned at the rough treatment. Rey didn’t care about the metal rings digging into her spine, though. All that mattered was Kylo standing over her, eyes raking over her body like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He crawled onto the bed and knelt between her legs. It was a tight fit; he was so huge, he probably took up a quarter of her apartment, not to mention the vast majority of her bed. Rey reached for him, but he pinned her hands over her head, taking his time as he looked over her.

He transferred her wrists to one hand and brought the other down to her chest. “These,” he said, squeezing one breast, then the other, “are fucking perfect.” Her skin burned everywhere his gaze touched. “All of you is perfect. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you in the ring, waiting for me.”

“Yeah?” Rey rocked her hips, wishing he was closer. She needed friction and pressure right now.

He nodded seriously. “I’m going to touch you now,” he said, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Please.” It was intoxicating, having a big, dangerous man look at her like that. Like he wanted to eat her alive.

He stripped off her shirt and sports bra and leaned down to wrap his lips around her nipple, and Rey jerked at the sudden, sharp pleasure. He massaged her other breast with one massive hand, then switched sides, mouth sucking in rhythmic pulses that had Rey squirming under him.

“Take your shirt off,” she ordered.

He pushed himself back to a kneeling position and tugged his sweater and shirt off, throwing them aside. Rey gloried in the sight of that pale, chiseled torso. He was peppered with scars she recognized from life on the street. His body had seen real violence. She sat up so she could drag her hands from his pecs to his carved abdomen. “I love your body,” she said honestly. “You aren’t built to look pretty.”

He raised a dark brow. “No?”

She shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful, but it’s clearly more than just an aesthetic.” He used that body hard—probably to do horrible things, but Rey didn’t particularly care.

He chuckled, then grabbed her, tugging her onto his lap. Her knees dug into the bed on either side of him, thighs split wide by his tree-trunk legs. “No one’s ever called me beautiful,” he breathed against her lips.

“Me, neither.” Rey expected him to laugh with her—it was comedic, after all, the idea of scrawny, scrappy Rey being beautiful—but his hand planted on her ass and tugged her harder against him.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said.

Rey groaned at the press of his erection against her core. God, it was a dream to hear those words falling from his perfect mouth. She wanted to roll around in this feeling of being enough for someone. Maybe he didn’t mean it, but it was the best gift he could have given her. “I need you,” she said. “Please, Kylo.”

~~~

Now you'll never see me cry
There's just no time to die

~~~

Her door was unlocked. Rey paused with her hand on the knob, heart lurching into a wild tattoo. She’d probably been robbed. The thief might even still be in there.

She couldn’t afford to lose the meager possessions she’d acquired over the years. Her gym clothes, her extra pair of sneakers, her chipped dinner set…

Rey was fucking tired of losing things. Her entire life had been a series of losses. The loss of parents, the loss of identity, the loss of food and shelter and hopes and dreams. The loss of love. She’d been carved up too many times, her vulnerable parts chipped away with every blow life dealt her.

She wasn’t willing to lose anything else.

She launched herself into her apartment with a shout, fists raised before her. There was nowhere to hide in her tiny studio, so she saw the big, broad shape instantly. A man was standing at her window with his back turned. The reflected orange glow of streetlamps outlined broad shoulders and a mane of dark hair.

Rey was halfway across the room and fully prepared to deck the intruder when he turned, and reality suddenly tipped upside down. She skidded to a halt, hands dropping uselessly to her thighs.

“Kylo?”

~~~

I let it burn
You're no longer my concern

~~~

When he filled her, it was unlike anything Rey had felt before. His cock was massive, stretching her so much she wondered for a moment if she’d be able to take it. Even though he’d already made her come once with his mouth and once more with his hands, her body still struggled to accommodate him.

Rey’s nails dug into his shoulders. She closed her eyes tightly, focusing on relaxing and opening.

“Are you okay?” he asked, low and soft.

She nodded.

“Rey, look at me.”

She opened her eyes to find Kylo looking down at her with concern. He brushed the hair off her forehead. “Are you hurting?” he asked.

“No, it’s just… a lot.” Her pussy throbbed around him, skin stretched tight. She reached down to feel where they were connected… and realized there were still several inches left to take. “Holy shit, you’re huge.”

He smiled, but he looked worried. “I can stop.”

“No, no.” Rey rubbed her already-sensitive clit, easing her pussy into the idea of taking more. She was incredibly wet, and every circle of her fingers slicked through the proof that Kylo Ren was a very attentive lover. “Now,” she said as her body relaxed around him. “Give me the rest.”

He grunted as he thrust in those final inches. Rey gasped and tipped her head back, staring dazedly at the ceiling. “Oh, wow,” she breathed.

It felt so good. Beyond good. She was stuffed full of him, no longer empty and needing. He was here at last, inside her, right where she needed him to be.

“Rey,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You feel amazing. You are amazing.”

“You barely know me,” she whispered.

He withdrew, then sank back in slowly. “I know you’re tough,” he murmured as the thrust pushed a sigh out of her. “Beautiful, clever, aggressive… I know you fight until you can’t anymore, and you fuck like a dream.”

They’d only just begun fucking, of course, but the leadup had been loud and primal. She’d licked and bitten him everywhere she could. She’d taken his huge cock into her mouth, swallowing it to the point of discomfort and then a little bit further, trying to taste as much of him as she could get. Rey was greedy about things like that—stolen moments, stolen treats, stolen pleasures. She’d moaned around him until he’d pulled her off of him with a shaking hand, then dragged her over his face so he could return the favor. He’d eaten pussy with the same single-minded enthusiasm he applied to his fighting, and Rey had fallen apart shockingly quickly, shaking over him as his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place.

“God.” Rey’s head thrashed on the pillow as Kylo set a deep, relentless rhythm. “So fucking good, Kylo.” She clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him to get as much of his skin touching as much of her skin as possible. He worked her hard, but not too hard, his rough thrusts always riding that perfect edge between pain and pleasure. “You fuck like you fight,” she said.

He nipped her earlobe. “And look at you, submitting to me so well again.”

She made an outraged noise, but he chuckled in her ear and soothed her with more kisses. “You’ve won this one, sweetheart,” he breathed as his hips picked up speed. “I’d fucking crawl if you asked me to. You could wreck me.”

“I don’t want to wreck you,” Rey said, clinging closer. She buried her face in his shoulder, mouthing at his salty skin. “I want you to be mine.”

The words were reckless, greedy, ill-advised. Way too intense for a post-fight shag with a man she’d only just met. But in response, Kylo growled and gripped her ass, tugging her hips up so every thrust struck a sensitive spot deep within her. “You don’t know me,” he panted. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done.” And Rey didn’t, she really, really didn’t. She’d done her share of awful things, too. It was the price of a life spent clawing for survival.

He groaned. “Then I’ll be yours,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

“Everything,” Rey said honestly. She’d always had a problem with moderation—if she got her hands on something good, she wanted to wring every last bit of enjoyment out of it. And she’d never felt anything that made her feel as good, as alive, as Kylo Ren.

He slammed into her harder. “Then you’re going to be mine, too.”

“I’ve never—Ah!” Rey gasped as he hit the perfect spot. “I’ve never… belonged to anyone. I’ve always been… oh God, Kylo, please!” She gripped her shoulders, nearly crying from the overwhelming pleasure. Heat and tension coiled in her lower belly.

“You’ve always been what, Rey?” He kept up the steady, brutal pace, all the muscles of that powerful body working in concert to pleasure her. He had absolute control, and Rey rejoiced that she didn’t need to worry about him coming too fast.

“I’ve always been alone.” That hollow ache in her chest throbbed at the reminder. So many years waiting for something to fill up all her empty spaces…

“You’re not alone.” His lips came down on hers, and he kissed her with such raw, wide-mouthed enthusiasm that Rey nearly came just from the joy of being kissed so fiercely.

It was intense, too intense, but Rey lived her life on that edge. Fuck normal. Fuck just getting by. She would seize what she wanted with both hands and never let go. “Neither are you,” she said. “You won’t be alone anymore.”

He groaned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

The raw pain in his voice mirrored the wound deep inside of her. She grabbed his face and forced him to look down at her. “If you let me,” she said, “I’ll be yours.”

He kissed her again, hot and desperate. “Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he said. “Get yourself there.”

Rey obeyed him, fumbling between them with one hand. She kept the other pressed to his cheek. His stubble scraped over her calluses, and she liked that prickle. It made her feel real in a new way, one that didn’t require pain.

She circled her clit hard and fast, and soon the orgasm burst over her in a long, clenching wave of bliss. She shuddered and moaned, struggling to keep her eyes open and trained on his when her entire body felt like it was about to shake apart.

“Rey,” he said. He was looking down at her like she was something unexpectedly radiant—a burst of color in the midst of gray concrete, the sun shining through after days of rain. Then his face screwed up and he shouted as he slammed into her one final time.

After the requisite cleanup—peeing for her, tying the condom off and wiping down with a washcloth for him, they lay together on her tiny mattress. It wasn’t big enough to fit them both comfortably, so they turned onto their sides, facing each other. 

“Stay,” Rey said into the silence of the room.

Kylo kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

For the first time in memory, Rey fell asleep feeling warm, happy, and safe.

But in the morning, Kylo was gone.

~~~

Faces from my past return
Another lesson yet to learn

~~~

How had she forgotten how big he was? He was a brick wall in human form, his oversized presence filling her tiny apartment. His black T-shirt clung to massive biceps, and for a moment, Rey forgot all about her shock and anger as she stared at him, taking in every last detail.

“Rey…” He took a step towards her, and Rey snapped to attention.

“Stop right there,” she ordered him.

He didn’t, so Rey lifted her fists. She would beat the shit out of him if she had to.

He halted, and an expression of pain flashed across his face. “No. I don’t want that.” Dark purple circles shadowed his eyes, like he hadn’t slept for weeks.

“I don’t give a shit what you want,” Rey said. “You left.”

“If you’ll just let me explain—”

“No!” She shouted the word, and, to her utter mortification, her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. “You lied to me. You told me I wasn’t alone. And then you left.”

She couldn’t fully express the wound that had left on her soul. Rey had been left over and over again, so often she’d come to expect it, but this was different. Even though she’d only known Kylo for one long, passionate night, he’d managed the impossible. He’d made her hope. For the first time in years, Rey had believed she could have something rare and special. And just as that fragile tendril of hope had pushed up from the barren earth of her perpetually-broken heart, reaching for the light…

He’d left.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had to.”

She shook her head and backed away. Her tears fell freely now, streaking her cheeks and compromising her vision. If he chose to attack right now, she wouldn’t stand a chance. “That’s what they all say,” she said.

“Who?” He took a step towards her, mirroring her retreat with his advance. Like they were fighting again, bodies perfectly in tune with each other.

She swiped angrily at her tears, despising her own weakness. “Parents. Friends. Lovers. Everyone. There’s always some reason, and it’s always a lie. I know what the real reason is. It’s me.” She sobbed. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“Rey, no, no.” He surged towards her, and before Rey could get her hands up, his arms were around her, and he was hugging her to his chest. She gave a half-hearted punch to his kidney, and he grunted, but didn’t let her go. “Please listen to me, sweetheart.”

The nickname made her cry more. Her face was buried in his shirt, and he still smelled so damn good, like sweat and what Rey imagined forests smelled like, even though she’d never been to one. He was warm and big and strong, and the way he held her like he would never let her go made her shiver.

This was dangerous.

She tried to pull away, but he only clutched her tighter. “Rey, it wasn’t safe for me to stay,” he said in a rush. “For you, I mean. You have no idea, the people I worked for, if they’d found you… I shouldn’t have slept over at all, but I couldn’t resist, you were so beautiful and soft and everything I’d ever wanted…”

“Then why did you lie?” she asked, voice breaking. “Why did you pretend you could be with me if you couldn’t?”

He took a deep breath, barrel chest expanding under her cheek. “I decided that night to quit,” he said. “I hated my job, anyway. I was an enforcer, Rey. You know what that means, don’t you?”

She nodded. It wasn’t exactly a surprise—Phasma had told her he was dangerous, and men didn’t get knife and bullet scars in most professions.

“It means it’s hard to get out, once you’re in.” His hand stroked up and down her spine, and he rested his chin on her head. “It took time. Time and… and violence.”

She didn’t want him to stop holding her—there was that fucking stupid hope again, making her believe in impossible things—but she needed to see his face for this. She squirmed until he loosened his grip enough to let her look up at him. “What did you do?”

He looked so exhausted, but his eyes still held that dark fire that had first captivated her. Kylo Ren burned so hot, it was almost painful to look at him. “I killed them,” he said bluntly, not looking away from her face. “The boss, his lieutenant, everyone in the inner circle. Anyone who knew me and what I did for him.”

Her heart pounded frantically in her chest. Kylo Ren was standing in her apartment, hands on her waist, bluntly confessing to being a murderer. “I’ve never killed anyone,” Rey said, which was probably not the appropriate response, but she was a bit shellshocked. It had come close a few times when she’d been in real danger and fighting for her life, but she’d always gotten away before needing to take that final step.

“I hope you never have to.” He looked up and away, and his gaze grew distant, like he was reliving the scene. “He got me from the streets, you know. When I was a teenage runaway. Gave me a job. Taught me to fight. He was like a father to me.” His face tightened. “So when he first needed me to hurt someone for him, it was easy to do it. And from there…” He shook his head. “I had no other job, no family I could run back to. I was already in so deep, and the only thing that made sense at the time was to go even deeper.”

Rey rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. She could understand that. If someone had taken her off the street, acted like a father to her, she would have done anything for them. Would have wept with gratitude that for once, someone cared if she lived or died. “And then?” she asked softly.

His gaze returned to her, sharpening back into its familiar intensity. “Then, I met a scrappy, beautiful woman in the fighting ring. For the first time in years, I wanted something for myself. Something he couldn’t touch.”

“Years?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I’d been numb for so long. Kissing you—it was an impulse, a dangerous one, but it felt like waking up.”

“I know what you mean.” She, too, had felt that painful exhilaration of being alive. Normally she needed the high of a fight to make her feel real, but he had grounded her and given her shape with just the press of his body against hers.

“And once I started, I couldn’t stop.” His hands flexed on her waist. “I wanted you so badly, Rey. I still do. But I couldn’t be with you until it was safe.”

A delicate, tentative emotion swelled in her chest—hope, blooming yet again despite a lifetime of being crushed. “Is it safe?” she whispered.

He nodded. “No one knows who I am anymore. I’m even—shit, I’m even going by my old name again. It’s Ben.”

“Ben.” It was such a soft name for such a deadly man, but somehow it suited him.

“But I won’t lie, Rey—there’s blood on my hands. A lot of it.” He looked at her seriously. “I want to be with you, but you need to know what kind of man I am. The things I’ve done… they don’t just wash away.”

She nodded. “I know.” She had bloody ghosts in her past, too, memories that pricked and stung late at night, when she was desperate to sleep.

“I don’t know who I’m going to be now,” Ben said. “I don’t know what I can do. What job I can have.” He shook his head. “Hell, even where to live. I’ve been sleeping in a shelter for the last few weeks, waiting to see if there was any fallout.” No wonder he looked so exhausted. “I’m a bad man who’s done bad things, and if you want me…” He swallowed hard. “It isn’t exactly a bargain. I don’t know who I am anymore, but I’m trying to figure it out.”

Rey’s hands shook as she lifted them to his cheeks. Stubble rasped against her skin as he turned his head to nuzzle deeper into one of her palms. “I want you,” she said, the truth emerging from her tight throat. “Bloody hands and all.”

His eyes widened. He looked at her with something like wonder. “Really?”

Rey nodded, tears filling her eyes again as her lips curved up in a smile. “I’ll help you figure it out,” she said. “Who you are. And maybe you can help me, too.”

“Rey.” He breathed her name, then lowered his head. She pushed up on her toes to meet him halfway, and when their lips met, it was soft and gentle. A promise. “I know who you are,” he said when they finally parted. “You’re everything wonderful. And you’re mine.”

Rey’s smile grew into a full-fledged grin. “I’m yours,” she said. “And you’re mine, too.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her towards the bed. “And you’re going to stay here with me while we figure things out.”

He followed eagerly, making no resistance when she pushed him down onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. She rested there, hands tangled in his hair, ear pressed against his chest to hear the beat of his heart.

“You’re not alone,” Ben promised, wrapping his arms around her. “Not anymore.”

She smiled. “Neither are you.”