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cowboygenesis · 2 months ago

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14: dry down | kylo ren x reader

part 14 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language, smut (cunnilingus, fingering), mild angst word count: 3.8k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: shorter chapter today, y'all. enjoy me being horrible and pulling the rug again, hehe

Now Playing: Girl - Men I Trust

Morning rolls in like a soft, white dove, swirling into your room with a warm wind smelling of pollen.

Your eyes flutter open to your sheer curtains, flailing through the space like a ghost of last night. Light pours in warm, and you wrap the covers tighter as the soreness between your thighs settles in like a small blessing.

And when you spot him there, arms snaked tightly around your nude waist, you think you might have died and gone to a blashpemous heaven.

Kylo’s body is a furnace behind you, arms heavy around your middle, the coarse hair on his forearms brushing your tender skin. He shifts slightly, his nose burying into the crown of your head with a soft, content hum. You sigh with him, lips curling into a wide smile that you hide into the softness of your pillow.

You feel him shift against you, a soft groan fleeting his lips just beyond the shell of your ear. You know he’s awake before he even utters.

“Morning, sunshine,” comes a groggy, barely audible din, shuddering down your spine. You feel his face nuzzle your neck, nose poking against the base of your skull.

“Ugh,” you reply through a bleary-eyed joy, stretching your legs and letting them smooth against his. “I kind of hate that.”

He hums out the shadow of a chuckle, sighing out with sleep as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. Birdsong fills the room in tandem with his sigh. “Morning, asshole.”

You match his amusement with your own laughter, letting it soak into your pillow as he drums a soft, rhythmless beat against your belly. It doesn’t dawn on you like you thought it would, this intimacy. His touches are gentle and kind, and instead of pulling away, you feel sucked in. Worst of all, you don’t even attempt to resist.

“Much better, weirdly.”

He laughs again, this time loud enough for you to hear. His fingers dig into your skin again, soft but demanding, and you catch the hint immediately. With a tired groan you shift your body, rolling in his arms until you catch sight of a dark mess of locks and plush, sleep or kiss-bitten lips. His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes brushing the speckle of his cheeks when a smile erupts on your face unsolicited.

Your silent admiration is promptly interrupted by the rumble of Kylo’s chest, speaking blasphemy through a crackless mein. “You snore, by the way.”

You grin even though he’s not looking. “Liar.”

“Swear on my life,” his eyebrows lift, cheek smushing into the pillow you’ve apparently been sharing all night. “Full-on chainsaw. I actually woke up in a sweat.”

You chuckle, placing your hands against his pecs. The skin is smooth there, lined with those same freckles that start at his temple. “How?”

“From fear, obviously,” he shrugs through the constraint of sheets, popping one eye open just a smidge. “And that’s not all.”

You lift an inquisitive eyebrow, watching him study your face for a beat through that little crack of his eyelid. You press your chest into his on instinct, suddenly aware of the nudity you don.

“You drool.”

Your jaw hangs with shock at the proclamation, but the man’s gaze is nowhere to be found again. He shoves his face into the crook of your arm, yet you feel the curl of a smile as it presses into your skin.

“Excuse me?” you counter through a faux scowl, pushing at his chest. “That’s impossible.”

“You do. Little puddle, right here on my arm,” he elaborates into your elbow before shifting to face you again. You watch patiently as his eyes crack open, both this time, glazed with sleep yet unmistakenly staring through you. He’s still smiling, nearly grinning now. “I’m honestly traumatized.”

You scoff, eyes rolling in attempt to hide the giddiness rising through your chest. “You’re dramatic.”

He arches an eyebrow like a dare, then moves in one fluid motion, all muscle and menace combined. Before you can squeal out a protest of any kind, he rolls, flipping you onto your back and pinning your wrists to the mattress on either side of your head. His weight hovers just enough not to crush you, but certainly enough to make your breath hitch with the dominance.

“Oh my god—get off me!” you wail, squirming just a bit as breathy, giddy laughter fills the air between you.

Kylo’s hair is a mess, black waves cascading over his cheekbones, revealing that pair of dark eyes that glare down at you in full alert now.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Never!” you spit back, eyes as wide as your smile when you spot how blown-out his pupils are above you.

Kylo clicks his tongue in reply, dipping down just slightly to let a gust of breath graze against your face. “Then I’ll be forced to carry out a punishment.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk, but you can see it now—that feral little glitter of his eyes that promies chaos more often than not.

“Yeah?” he murmurs again, voice dropping thick with menace.

Before you can bite back with something familiarly snarky, he moves.

Kylo lets go of your wrists, only to trail one large hand down your arm, your side, until it hooks beneath your knee and hitches your leg up over his hip. The weight of him shifts with it, pressing you down into the mattress with no way to run. Your breath stalls, simmering.

He dips down, brushing the tip of his nose along your jaw, then lower still to the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. His mouth follows promptly, lips warm and lazy as they press into your skin.

“Oh, I dare,” he says, voice muffled by the softness of your skin.

You shiver, and he hums smugly at your willingness. His kisses drift lower down, teeth grazing any skin he can, and just enough to make you jolt in anticipation.

“Kylo—” you half-laugh, half-gasp, letting your fingers threat through the unruly curtain of his hair.

“What?” he says innocently, even as he sucks a mark into your collarbone to dispute his tone in an instant. “This is just part of what I promised. You did slander my good name.”

“You don’t have a good name,” you mutter, but it comes out far too breathy to even remotely land as an insult. You’re barely trying anymore, it’s out of habit more than anything. Kylo laughs low and throaty, vibrating against your chest.

His lips are flushed when he lifts his head, cheeks tinged with a soft pink that mirrors your own distraught state. His gaze flickers over your chest, marvelling at your softness, but ultimately he focuses on your face. Your eyes.

“You’re lucky I’m merciful,” he says.

You raise a brow, raking one hand through his hair absentmindedly. You already feel drunk off his affection, and as much as it should scare you, the feeling is too large to escape as you face it head on. “That’s what you call mercy?”

He leans in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “You don’t want to see what unforgiving looks like.”

You shoot him a half-daring look, tilting your head in slight challenge even as something primal tugs at your gut. It’s been minutes since you’ve awoken, and yet that deeply-rooted fire from last night still sparks down your thighs.

“I might.”

Kylo inhales sharply, something untamed flashing through his half-lidded eyes. Immediately, you know you’ve lit a fuse, and now, it was just a matter of fanning the flame into completion.

“Careful,” he warns lowly, holding your gaze as he lowers to plant a slow kiss against your lips. “It’s still early.”

You hum against his mouth, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, your lips parting in slow invitation. He tastes warm, sleep-sweet, with just the slightest hint of last night. It makes your stomach flutter with anticipation and something else entirely.

Then, with a devil-may-care glint in your eyes, you slide your hand down the plane of his chest. Slow fingers trace every dip and ridge like you’re mapping out a coastline, down hillsides and ravines.

“Early?” you echo, voice dulcet-soft as your palm flattens against his abdomen, just above the waistband of his briefs.

He exhales hard through his nose, muscles going taunt against your palm with a sudden flex. Your free hand rises, cradling the back of his head and dragging him in close. Your fingers thread into the thick mess of his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat.

He kisses you with his whole body, mouth urgent and chest pressed flush to yours, hips twitching forward like he’s chasing your touch without even meaning to. One of his hands slips under your thigh again, squeezing, while the other roams up your side, dragging the sheet with it and letting the material bunch at your waist.

“You’re not getting what you want,” he mutters between kisses, voice gravel-rough and vibrating against you.

You smile, breathlessly tipping your head back as his lips begin their slow descent down your jaw and across your neck. His teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot just below your pulse, and your hips jolt into his involuntarily.

He chuckles against your skin, teeth flashing into a crooked grin before he kisses his way lower, grazing your collarbone again. “Still not sorry?”

You look down with lust-drunk eyes, matching his smile with your own. “Not even a little bit.”

His grip tightens around your thigh, holding eye-contact as he slides his mouth up the hill of your breast.

“Good.”

He latches on, tongue swirling against the perked peak of your nipple and making you release a deep, suffocated moan into the air between you, smelling of sex and spring. His hand drops from your thigh, urging up your waist and settling atop your other, lonesome breast. He palms the flesh, squeezing and pinching while his teeth graze your areola.

“Ah, shit—” you hiss, bunching your fists into the pillow. Kylo responds promptly, nearly impatiently, releasing the mound with a soft ‘pop’ before beginning his assault on your sternum. The saliva-slick spot cools rapidly in the air as he traces down your midsection, holding his grasp tight while he descends further down your belly. Your head tilts back and you close your eyes, letting his peppering kisses lull you into oblivion.

“Sleepy?” he rumbles against your hipbone, making you groan at your own stupidity. You’ve allowed yourself to succumb to Kylo’s antics, and once again he’d be the one calling the shots while all you could do was squirm and call him names.

On second thought, that didn’t sound so bad.

“Thought this was supposed to be a punishment,” you manage to tease, voice grasping air as he kisses the dip toward your thigh.

“It is,” he growls. “And I’m taking my damn time with it.”

Sunlight streams through the curtains, painting golden stripes over the tangled sheets and limbs as he inches toward your folds. His breath is hot over your clit, a soft, concentrated stream of air making you flinch at the surprising sensitivity that jolts up your spine.

“What are you—”

His mouth sinks against your pussy, warm and hungry. You lift your arm over your face, biting down on your forearm to stifle the sudden outburst of moans that leave you unsolicited.

It’s a repeat of last night in terms of pleasure, yet his pace is anything but. There’s languidity in place of fervor, passion in place of desire—his hands wrapping tightly around your thighs, holding you in place as he licks a slow, wide strip up your slit. The feeling is electric, and makes you whimper softly.

“Oh,” you mewl, arching your back slightly as he catches your clit. His movement is stable and consistent, alternating smoothly between soft licks, then suckling again. “Oh, Ben.”

He squeezes your legs tighter at that, but the ministrations never pick up pace. He lies between your thighs, worshipping your pussy so softly and gracefully, giving you everything just to hear you call his name into the walls of your home.

You’re relaxed and at complete ease. For a second, as he settles into an even rhythm, you think you might fall back asleep.

But then you feel his arm leave your right left thigh. Before you can check understand, something slender smooths down your entrance, and your eyes widen at the newfound sensation. You look down at your dark-haired lover, his half-lidded gaze stuck hard to yours as he prods not one, but two fingers against your pussy.

He searches your face for permission and you nod vehemently, lip caught between your teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh as he slides in with ease, digits squelching with slick upon entry. A soft, trickling wave of pleasure washes over you like a precursor, making you sink into the mattress with a dazed sigh.

“Feel good?” Kylo questions between the gentle flicks of his tongue, letting his digits curl inside you almost instantly and when you choke out a strained moan in reply, he begins to move. You feel a pressure against the soft ridge of your canal, cascading through your belly and thighs in a wave of deep, pulsating ecstasy as he continues his assault on your clit.

It’s good. It’s painfully, unbearably wonderful, and you’re sure he knows it. It feels like hours when it must’ve been just minutes, yet his slow, slow affections leave you melted into a dopamine-stuffed puddle, body taut with an impending orgasm that never really peaks, keeping you at the delicious precipice until you’re left begging.

“Kylo,” you trail languidly, less like a warning and more like a quiet plea. You look down, the sight of his dark eyelashes as he stays latched onto you making you groan out pathetically. “Kylo, I can’t—”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, his half-lidded eyes watching your glowing, sweat-slick face with complete, soft amusement.

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgment, the vibration filling your belly with another wave of pulsating pleasure. His fingers keep working, too, pressing against your sensitive spot without missing a single beat even as your hips begin bucking into it.

“Hey,” you mewl again, this time firmly enough to catch his attention. His tongue slows just a bit, licking up your slick folds with a final stripe. You shudder, locking a palm around the arm holding your thigh down. “Come here.”

When you thought he’d acquiesce, you see him hesitate. Something glitters in his eyes, and his lips leave your pussy without as much as a ceremony, the two digits stirring within you coming to a sudden stop. He watches you for a beat, then two, and when you finally moan out in protest of his passiveness, it’s tight and pathetic.

“Ben, please.”

His body rises. Within seconds, he’s got you pressed against the bed again, the weight of his body balanced on one elbow while his other palm holds still against your pussy. Something burns in his eyes, and this time, it stays long enough for your heart to stutter.

Your mouth parts slightly, his hot breath mingling with yours as you exchange wordless, meaningful stares. “I—”

His lips crash against yours before you get to finish, making you whimper. He tastes sweet and lactic, his tongue prodding against yours before you can think anything at all, your breasts pressing into his strong chest.

And then his digits move again, pushing deeper and hitting an angle you never thought possible.

It’s devastating, and you make it known with a guttural groan against his lips. Yet that only urges him to hum, the swirling within you continuing in small, concentrated presses that knock the breath from your lungs. Your hands snake up his back, around his neck, holding him tight and close as if the heat of his body alone was enough to make the rubber band within you snap into bits.

“Oh, Ben,” you sigh against his lips, letting him take the lead on your animalistic, saliva-slick kiss when you feel your resolve crumbling with the pulsating pleasure of his palm on your clit. “Ben, baby, I—”

You feel him drop your kiss with a sharp inhale, his fingers picking up pace just as your eyes dart open.

He’s looking at you through a thick band of lashes, lips plush and wet with your slick, eyes darting across your face with something like madness. You realise you could have no other name for the wild, delirious splay of his pupils, the arm holding his balance snaking under your back to press you even closer together.

It’s the proximity of his body that breaks you.

“Fuck,” you whine, your hands sliding to either side of his face. You grasp him tightly, feverishly, holding him close as you feel yourself approaching the precipice, once and for all. “Fuck, fuck—Kylo, Ben, I’m cumming, I’m—”

You see his throat bob tightly, lips pressed into a line as his gaze penetrates your very soul. You hear him mutter something under his breath, something insignificant, probably, but the gust of his breath on your cheek combined with the devilish speed of his digits against your sweet spot makes the bundle in your belly uncoil in a wild, uninhibited burst.

You squeeze your eyes shut and cum hard, his forehead pressed to yours as a stray tear rolls down your climax-heated cheek. The pleasure flows through your muscles, your heart, brain, and when you breathe out a cry, Kylo catches it with a hot kiss that sears your soul.

He lets you ride your high out on his fingers, pressing ever so gently as your breath heaves with his. He withdraws one finger when your eyes open, then another.

The world fitlers back in slowly with distant birdsong and the soft creak of the mattress beneath you as Kylo shifts his weight. His fingers, slick with your unraveling, trail idly along your thigh before he wipes them on the sheet absentmindedly. Something about that gesture stirs your gut.

You’re still catching your breath, lips parted and eyes hazy when he speaks again.

“You alright?” he asks, voice rasped and thick with sleep, or something else. You think it might be the latter with how red his cheeks burn.

“Better,” you hum, nodding lazily, still stuck somewhere between Earth and Cloud 9. A faint smile tugs at your lips, curling on one side. “You’re kind of annoyingly good at that.”

Kylo huffs a low and pleased laugh, yet no smile lines his features. There’s something else there, but it flickers in and out, running out of reach before you can even think to catch it.

“Yeah, well. You’re a really good motivator.”

You both laugh softly, the air warm and sweet between you. He doesn’t move yet, hovering close with his eyes fixed on you with a look that borders on something dangerous. But maybe it’s just softness, and you’re not yet used to it.

You think it might be the afterglow, or the fact you’re sharing this quiet morning together, his thumb tracing circles into your hip like he’s done it dozens times before. Or maybe it’s just your anxiety, rising to your throat unfiltered but undeniably delicate, spilling out before you can think to stop.

“I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”

But you don’t even realise the weight of your confession before the air between you stills.

Kylo blinks. The tenderness in his face doesn’t vanish, but it tightens, freezing before your very eyes like cracked glass. And you get stuck with him, eyes searching for something explanatory that never comes.

He shifts off of you first, face flat but ruminating as the sheet slips from his waist. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand to rub over his face, dragging his fingers down like he’s trying to scrub something away. Then he exhales through his nose. It’s sharp and quick, and with a growing knot in your chest, you watch as he stands, half-naked in the early light.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly as he reacher for the clothes he left in a pile on your bedroom chair. You’re propped on one elbow, sheet wrapped around your body like armor, even though you’re sure you’re already bleeding beneath it.

Kylo steps into his trousers, pulling them back on with his broad back to you. “Nothing. Nothing, I just… forgot I had a meeting.”

You blink as a frown settles on your face. “A meeting?”

He nods once, still not looking at you as he throws his shirt on next. Instinctively, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, checking the time.

5:43 AM.

There’s a handful of missed calls from Rey, timestamped between yesterday evening. Your brow knits, realising most of your night was spent in bed, tangled in a world that was now threatening to collapse in front of your very eyes.

“It’s not even six,” you plead, voice gentler than you’d planned.

Kylo rakes a hand through his already-tousled hair, nodding once again. Your gut suddenly bubbles with a familiar rage, listening to his threadbare excuse without a single instinct to face you head-on. You’ve kept it harbored somewhere deep for the night, blinded by his effortless affections. Briefly, you realise you should have known better.

“Okay,” you muster a brittle little smile, and offer it to no one but yourself. He’s still looking away, after all, stood in the doorway, hand on the frame. You can see his fingers tremble even at a distance.

Still, for a second, hope flares stupidly in your chest. You think he might turn around. All it’d take is a second, a word, a smile, absolutely anything to seize the endless spiral of chaos barging through your brain, harmonizing in a helpless song of: what did I do wrong?

And you hope he might feel your desperation, that strong, pleading pull. Because before he leaves, he looks back over his shoulder, his dark eyes piercing you with that same tenderness you saw as he touched your body and soul.

“Lock the door behind me,” he says.

His footsteps echo down the hallway steadily, and then a bit uneven. You stare at the open door as the silence swells around it like heavy bloating, still holding onto that thread of hope, of the possibility that—

The front door shuts with a click.

Your throat closes in tandem, bleary eyes flooding with wetness. The tears slide down your cheeks before you can think to stop them, slipping hot and quiet in one blink. Then comes the rest. You curl into the mattress and palm at the pillow and sheets where he just lied. You think they might hold some vague shape of his arms or face, but they don’t. Not at all.

You muffle your sobs against the corner, every exhale shaking your ribs like a living, breathing creature clawing at your ribs. There’s no dignity or grace in it, just a raw, fresh grief that blooms too fast and stupid to contain.

You fall back asleep in a pool of your own grief, wild-pine clinging to your skin that bruises with the memory of his lips.

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cowboygenesis · 3 months ago

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13: animalica | kylo ren x reader

part 13 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language and smut (hickeys, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kinda hate sex but then it gets fluffy) word count: 7.7k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: *hands you chapter 13* this is filthy and NOT proofread. *crashes tf out*

Now Playing: A New Life - Zeke Bleu

The long trek through the Upper West Side proved the toughest. The city blurred past in a kaleidoscope of headlights and neon, the rush of bodies shoving against you as you weaved through the crowded sidewalks.

Thick beads of sweat slick your skin, sticking to your tank top. Your thighs and calves burn. Someone shouted obscenities when you elbowed your way out of the subway car earlier.

As you book it through your neighborhood, your heaving draws the attention of a few pacing kids and their parents out on an afternoon stroll. Some of them, you recognize. They issue you worried glances and awkward stares that you quickly wave away with a wild smile.

When you finally reach your building, your hands tremble as you fumble with the gate. A soft tremor settles into your palm as you sort through your collection of decorative keychains, searching for the right key. Your eyes skim over the time.

Then, bingo.

Your pulse is a wild drumbeat in your ears, breath ragged as you try and shove the keys in. It takes you exactly three tries and four breathy curses to finally unlock it. You take a few long paces toward the entrance, quickly inputting the 4-digit code you know by heart. Once the heavy door clicks open, you push onto it with your whole weight, hopping the steps two at a time once you reach the staircase.

The adrenaline drumming through your body makes the three floors feel like a brisk walk. Your bated breath echoes through the dim hallway as you finally approach your apartment, leaning against the doorway and beginning to knock fervently.

“Kylo!” you gasp, voice cracking from exertion as the sound of pounded wood booms through the space around you.

Silence.

Your stomach knots painfully as you check the time again.

You fish your keys out once more, quickly finding the largest and shoving it in one try. The lock clicks open, urging you to barge inside. You hope your poor neighbors aren’t suspecting a break-in with all the commotion you’re making, but regardless, it’s something you’d have to deal with later.

You march inside, chest still heaving as you drop your belongings onto the couch; Kylo’s bed. It sits there serenely, stagnant in the silence of the apartment as you haphazardly kick your shoes off.

“Kylo?” You call out again, leaning your weight against the headrest. With your muscles stagnant again, the adrenaline coursing your veins drops dramatically. Your diaphragm contracts, making you gasp and sigh in over-exertion.

The kitchen is in mild disarray, piled with a few mugs and glasses. Something in the air smells vaguely of coffee, meaning he must have been here recently.

“Damn it,” you huff, the sweat on your back beginning to cool uncomfortably. With a swift, albeit awkward move, you hitch your hoodie off your head with a loud, carrying yell.

“Fucking—Ben Solo!”

Then, from the hallway, you hear a doorway click closed. You throw your discarded clothing on the couch alongside your bag, biting your lip as you listen in. Your ears ring.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Your head snaps toward the baritone, sweat-slick hair whipping wildly as you face the hallway.

And there he is.

Fresh out of the shower, damp curls falling in thick waves over his forehead and a towel slung around his neck. His charcoal-grey shirt clings to his chest in places, damp in others, as evidence that he barely finished toweling off before you came crashing through the door like a fucking lunatic.

His brows furrow as he steps closer. You freeze.

You knew you had to see him, and that notion alone has fuelled you thus far. Except now, the sight of him makes you realize you didn’t account for the remorse that begins to creep up your spine.

Kylo’s gaze quickly flits over your blush-stricken face, lowering toward your dampened tank top. You cross your arms, protecting the thin material from the peering.

When his eyes meet yours again, you’re astonished to spot a glint of amusement.

“Did you—” he croaks, flattening his lips to stop a smirk from emerging, “did you run here?”

You blink, still gulping for air, hands flexing at your sides as you gauge his physique. Even in a crisis, you find yourself struggling to look away from his strong arms and star-speckled nose.

“I—”

The sight of him is too much.

Your body is still alight with adrenaline, mind reeling with every revelation from the balcony, the cafe, and Sienna’s words. The boy he was, the man he became; standing in front of you now, looking at you like you never meant him any harm.

“I thought you had a meeting,” you manage, voice softer now, like you’re suddenly aware of how desperate you sound.

His expression shifts, confusion knitting his brow. “They canceled it.” His eyes sweep over you. “Why are you—?”

But you don’t let him finish. Because in this moment, nothing else matters: not the kiss, not the argument, and not even Rey.

You just needed him to know.

“I know about your mom,” you breathe.

The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and for a moment, time slows around you.

Kylo’s expression shifts. It’s quick, like the smallest flicker vulnerability, before his face settles into a blank, characteristic mask of the man he forced himself to be for years before you even knew his name.

You watch the way his throat bobs, fingers twitching where they clutch the towel.

Silence stretches between you like a taut, suffocating thread.

He clears his throat, whipping the cotton fabric off his neck. He walks back, hitching the towel against the headrest of a chair. “What did you just say?”

The heat in your limbs hasn’t dissipated, but a different kind of tension creeps in now. The sharp, dagger-like sensation flows through your bones, urging you a step forward.

You square your shoulders, refusing to shrink beneath the weight of his stare when he finally looks.

“Sienna told me.”

That flicker returns, like a crack in his armor.

“You—” he trails lowly, eyes flickering with confusion while yours widen. “You talked to her?”

To pick up the pieces, you quickly shake your head, your arms flailing wildly in denial. You’re afraid that even context won’t save your dignity in this situation, but it’ll have to do for now. After all, words are all you have now.

“No! No, no—” you object, rubbing at your face with both hands to calm the redness threatening to rise. Then, with a short exhale, you face him with a pointed glare. “I was around the block getting coffee, and she just… I don’t know, she just happened to be there. I didn’t even recognize her at first until she…”

The memory of her saccharine laugh carries through your skull, making you wince. You take a short, ragged breath before continuing.

“I know it sounds bat-shit insane and you can kick my ass for this later, but—” you swallow thickly, facing him with guilt in your eyes. “We spoke.”

The hum he emits is rough, edged with something like impatience. You catch his body turn slightly like he’s about to walk away, but you step forward before he has the chance.

“She told me about the way you grew up.” You press on, voice steadier and stronger now that your anxiety has settled. “About your father. About Rey.”

That stops him. Something shifts in his mein, tightening his jaw as he turns toward you. His back is tense, heaving with the weight of his steady breath as you step even closer.

Kylo scoffs quietly, running a hand through his damp curls as he watches the floor with a sudden, keen interest. “Of course she did.”

“I— Kylo, I had no idea,” you say softly, being severely mindful of your tone. It carries through the air uninterrupted, reaching him in a flinch. “You should’ve told me.”

He exhales slowly, eyes flicking away from you. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, and you recognize the battle playing out inside him like clockwork. He towers in front of you like a wild beast waiting to be tamed. A man wanting to be broken-in by a soft, guiding hand.

A hand you desperately want to offer.

“Why would I?” he finally says, voice edged with little venom. You’re not sure if he’s tired or if the aftermath of your kiss has finally shoved him into an unfortunate, fatal resignation. “What difference would it make?”

You swallow hard, fingers flexing at your sides.

You knew his reasoning. You knew he held things in until they festered into pain and morphed into something impossible to unweave. And you knew that, at the end of the day, it wasn’t his fault.

“Because I wouldn’t have left.”

His gaze snaps back to you, a fleeting twilight flashing behind his eyes. His lips part, and for a second, you think he might say something true. Something fundamentally life-changing to you both.

But then, despite your deepest hopes, the mask drops back down.

“I didn’t need you to stay,” he huffs lowly, facing you with a certain flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “You made your choice.”

A muscle in your jaw jumps, but your heart beats steadily.

After your winded conversation with Sienna, something about Kylo clicked to you. It’s like the veil slipped and allowed you to see his wrangle for what it truly was, and that alone has melted all semblance of rage brewing in your body.

You knew he was shutting down and deflecting, pretending it doesn’t matter and, more significantly, pretending you don’t matter. Acting like you haven’t spent every night in this damned apartment orbiting each other like you were bound to collide.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. "Bullshit."

Kylo scoffs, rubbing his face with both hands. His damp curls fall even messier over his forehead, clinging to his skin like wild tendrils.

“You don’t get to say that,” he mutters, voice low and sharp.

But you’re exhausted, too. And more than that, you’re fucking frantic.

“Why?” you snap, stepping closer. “Because it makes you uncomfortable? Because you don’t want to talk about it?” you trail, arms flailing in the small space between you. “Because you think that if you just sit in your own misery long enough, no one will even dare to try and understand you?”

Kylo’s brows furrow, and something in his expression once again cracks just a fraction.

‘Good,’ you think through a stubborn scowl. ‘Let it fall apart.’

“Just say it,” you push, stepping even closer now, toe to toe with your sorrowful giant. “Tell me this means nothing.”

His lips part, but nothing comes out. Because you know that, in good faith, he can’t speak a lie this large and significant.

His hands flex at his sides, chest rising and falling fast, and fuck, you’re close enough to see the way his pupils swallow up those dark, glassy eyes of his like thundering seas.

"I—I know this has been difficult, but… but I just feel like I finally get you, okay? And, despite your shitty witticisms and… and your general… disdain for my existance," You laugh bitterly, shaking your head to steady your quivering voice before you finally face him. "I know that… that at the end of the day, you’re more than that. I know you don’t want to be alone."

Your voice wavers on the last word, heart splintering with an ache though you know it should be angry instead. Every step forward felt like two steps backward, even after you’ve pushed every threshold there was to push. You knew that now, it was all up to him to decide your fate.

You swallow, eyes flitting over his tensed-up facade and taking in the sheer, resonant ache in those dark eyes of his. The eyes you’ve taken in with frustration, when you should have noticed the shame. The same ones that now flit with something that makes your chest rumble.

“Ben,” you begin again, breaking the taut silence with your soft lilt. He darts over your features in microscopic movements, lips tight when he swallows at your proximity.

The air between you is razor-thin, weighted with a suffocating, agonizing vehemence.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Kylo doesn’t move. He blinks once, painstakingly slow. Then, his jaw tightens.

His breath is measured when he finally exhales, long and slow as it darts across your cheeks.

“You already know why,” he says lowly, and the softness that lines his lilt makes you want to come undone where you stand.

“No,” you shake your head, stepping close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body and catch the damp scent of his shampoo in the stagnant air between you. “I don’t.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He looks away for a fraction of a second before his gaze is on you again, burning into your soul like little embers. You see them in his eyes, exploding with pure, uninhibited fervor. It’s as passionate as he’ll let himself be, yet you want to press for more.

“You—” He huffs in exasperation, fingers twitching at his sides. “You’re—”

“I’m what?” you force ahead, urging him into a corner. His back collides with the hallway wall, emitting a soft, dull thud.

Kylo’s nostrils flare. His hands finally move, pushing through the damp curls at his temples with a slight, barely-there tremor.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he grits out, but you’re already beyond his excuses to let it slide.

“Try me.”

His eyes flicker over your face, searching for something you so desperately want to offer.

“You think I push you away on purpose?” he suddenly murmurs, his voice edged with a strange ascerbity that you greedily welcome.

You flatten your lips, licking the bottom half as you still in place.

“I think you—”

“No.” He counters with a bite, lifting his gaze to meet yours. When your lips part, you struggle to emit more than a quiet stutter. Kylo, on the other hand, picks up where you left off, straightening his posture to successfully dwarf you. “Listen to me.”

His breath is unsteady. His eyes are sharp, burning through you like you love it most.

“You think I don’t want this?” Kylo asks low and rough, the result of it pressing hard against your ribs. “You think I don’t want you?”

You swallow hard with a quiet tick, watching him ascribe like he’s the only one you’d ever allow. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, head shaking in short, staggering motions.

“That’s not it,” he says, voice softer now but still tight, like admitting it cost him a piece of his heart. “That’s never been it.”

You bite your bottom lip, worrying it there til it draws a trickle of blood. Your stomach clenches at the silent furrow of his eyebrows, like he’s at war with no one but himself.

And then it dawns on you.

He wants you, too.

The realization hits you like a thunderclap, spinning the air around you like a powerful current.

“Then what is it?” you ask quietly.

Kylo exhales sharply, his jaw tightening as he sizes you up. The sheer feeling of his eyes penetrating you urges a quiet, fleeting gasp from your lips, spreading into the dormant air between you like a guilty prayer.

“I…” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes flit across your face, down to your reddened cheeks and bitten lips. “I don’t know how.” He trails off, jaw clenched tight. And when his eyes shut, you think they might just stay that way.

His nose flares with a deep inhale, letting the breath settle into his lungs slowly, almost tenaciously. You watch in silent awe, taking in the marvelous sight of his plush lips silently testing the words before he even utters.

When his eyes flutter open again, your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to let you in without ruining it.”

There it is. The real reason. The thing he’s been too fearful to say was finally seeing the dim light of day. The dawn of your judgment.

Kylo Ren, for all his intensity, coldness, and strength, was afraid of this tether between you and what it would mean if he let himself succumb to it.

And it’s that culmination, that vulnerable truth, that finally lets you advance.

Your hands lift before you can think better of it, fingers grazing his jaw, thumbs pressing into the heat of his cheekbones. Kylo stills instantly, dark eyes flickering, his entire frame tense as if waiting for the inevitable impact that is you.

“Ben,” you whisper, and you feel the way he exhales, the name alone knocking the breath from his lungs. You know it does.

And so, with all the certainty you can muster, you lean into his shoulder and take cover in the safety of it. The familiar, all-encompassing scent of pine envelops you like holy fire, your hand tracing the lobe of his reddened ear.

Your breath falls hot on his neck.

“Let me try.”

And when his chest shudders, you know you’ve signed your demise.

His hands surge forward, grasping your face haphazardly and enveloping you in a tight, devoted warmth that reels your body inward. Your chests collide.

When his lips meet yours, it’s not careful or slow.

It’s painfully, disastrously anguished.

You crash together in a symphony of gasps, his teeth grazing your lip and making you mewl at the nipping pain it exudes.

Kylo reacts accordingly, his mouth curling against yours with a sharp, humorous exhale. His fingers dig into the sides of your face, keeping you close as he swallows your breath like it belongs to him and no one else.

And this time?

You let it happen.

His hands slide down, anchoring at your hips for a beat only to pull you flush against him. Your chest squishes against muscle, urging a quiet moan from your throat.

Fuck, you feel filthy.

Your teeth clack a little with the next kiss. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his uninhibited craving, yet the notion surges a wave of heat through your thighs.

You tug at his shirt with clumsy hands, half-blind with want, and he groans when your fingers accidentally scratch down his stomach. He’s laughing breathlessly now, dragging you backwards down the hallway in short stumbles.

You barely make it through the frame before he’s got you pressed against the wall, your back colliding with a dull thud.

“You better not bruise,” he whispers into your mouth.

You snort, your lips brushing his again with a matching smile. "You worried about me?"

"I’m not," he lies, biting at your bottom lip with a strained smirk. "I just don’t want you whining later."

You gasp dramatically and swat his shoulder. He catches your wrist in mid-air and pins it to the wall with a wicked grin, chasing your gaze like a madman.

"You’re such an asshole," you breathe, but you're already tilting your head to kiss him again.

Kylo leans back, keeping a safe distance as you mewl for contact. "You like me that way."

He looks down at you through dark lashes, his starved gaze raking down your sweat-slick body like he plans on devouring you whole. You pray he will.

You scoff through bitten lips, licking off the rawness he left behind. You can’t help but size him up, taking in the soft, cruel need painting his gaze as you stand beneath him with little agency.

"I tolerate you."

He grins, wanton and boyish. The sight knocks a shiver straight down your core, making your thighs clench with a pleasant itch.

"Liar."

He lifts you like it’s second nature, stumbling the two of you into your room and kicking the door shut behind him with a sharp clunk.

As you move forward, Kylo stumbles over something on the floor with a quiet hiss. He catches his balance just in time, grasping you tightly to prevent you from slipping off.

“Your room’s fucking filthy,” Kylo mutters as he deposits you unceremoniously on the bed, crawling over you in one swift motion.

“You’ll survive,” you pant quietly, writhing under him as he drags his mouth down your throat, nipping until he feels you shudder.

“Barely.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp as he drags your shirt up over your ribs and dips his head, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your throat. He shifts back for a moment, breaking the kiss.

“Fuck—Oh, c’mon,” you sigh dramatically, frustrated with the sudden lack of contact as he surveys your exposed upper-half.

You watch his eyes glaze over with craving, flitting over your bra-clad chest and glowing skin.

His mouth parts like he’s trying to say something, but no sound comes out besides a quiet, ragged exhale. He runs a hand through his curls, then plants his palm flat beside your head, staring down at you with a tensed jaw.

You take this time to exhale slowly, shifting your shoulders against the pillow below. When your gaze connects with his, a wanton, teasing smirk creeps to your face like the ghost of your anticipation.

“What?” you challenge, breathless and sweat-slick from your earlier marathon. “Never seen a girl before?”

He huffs with a halfhearted scoff, his hand reaching for the strap of your bra. You watch with bated breath as he snaps it lightly before dragging one knuckle along the curve of your clothed breast.

“Not one like you,” he mutters, and you think you might jump him right here and now.

But he doesn’t give you time to answer or do anything for that matter as his mouth presses hot kisses down your collarbone, sucking gently yet not enough to leave a mark.

You arch into him, and he chuckles darkly against your skin.

“God, you’re obsessed with me,” you hiss through a grin, holding onto any semblance of control you have left, though you know your resources are steadily depleting with every kiss and nip.

He lifts his head, eyes blazing into your skin.

“Yeah?” he says, breath hitching as he unclasps your bra with a single, practiced flick that sends goosebumps down your arms. You barely stop yourself from gasping. "Don't flatter yourself."

You toy your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with a lazy, licentious smile. “Too late.”

His mouth twitches, eyes dragging down your body with shameless hunger.

In a snap, he shoves the bra down your arms with all the reverence. His palms curve beneath your breasts, rough thumbs grazing across your nipples as soon as they come into view.

You jolt under him, trying hard not to moan at the ridiculous display of experience.

“What?” he murmurs, leaning in close and letting his lips ghost against your jaw. “You were begging for this five minutes ago.”

“I was yelling at you five minutes ago,” you snap, heat flaring through your core despite yourself.

Kylo whistles with a haphazard shrug, leaning his weight onto one elbow as he rakes over your body again.

“Same thing,” he mutters, before dipping his head and sucking a mark into the skin just above your heart. Your back arches involuntarily, head dipping back to grant him easier access even if you know you’ll spend an hour in the bathroom later trying to cover the indecency up.

His voice is gravel when he speaks again, still pressed against your skin.

“You gonna keep talking?”

He bites again, lower this time, and your hands shoot to his hair, clawing at his curls like you can’t decide whether to shove him off or pull him closer: your endless predicament.

“C’mon,” he looks up at you with a wild gleam in his eyes, “say something.”

You pant, drunk on the closeness and the vicious burn in your blood, but there’s little you can say without making a mess of yourself, so you opt for a tense silence instead.

“Want me to stop?” he growls against the valley of your breasts, breath warm and moist as it hovers over your nipples.

“Kylo,” you finally croak.

He looks up at you with dark, expectant eyes, and how could he not? You’re so soft under him. So vulnerable and easy to mould.

You swallow thickly, panting into the hot air between you. When his hand gives your hip a tight, reassuring squeeze, you feel the remnants of your willpower shatter into unconsolable pieces.

“More.”

And just like that, the space between you is obliterated.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and sweatpants, dragging them both down with a single, brutal pull that leaves you bare and panting. He watches you, mouth parted like a starving dog as your thighs squeeze together in a sudden burst of embarrassment.

When your hands reach to cover your nudity, Kylo catches them in mid-air with a loud scoff.

“Don’t you dare,” he mutters low and sharp, his fingers wrapping tight around your wrists. “You think I dragged you all the way here just to let you hide all this?”

Your breath stutters, your spine arching against the bed. His grip tightens for just a second, not to restrain you, but to ground you in place.

You finally acquiesce, letting him move your hands away in a slow, controlled movement. A warm breeze suddenly swirls into your bedroom, rolling down your body and causing your nipples to go taut with the temperature change.

“Look at you,” he breathes, almost to himself. His eyes drag down the line of your body, delirious and worshipful at your softness. “Fuck, I’ll never get over this.”

You squirm, thighs trying to press shut again, but he shuffles down between them with a predatory patience. Then, with a low, throaty growl, he spreads you open and drags his mouth down your stomach, teeth grazing at your hipbone before he licks a slow, calculated stripe up your heated skin.

Every muscle in your body tenses, a pathetic sound catching in your throat.

His broad shoulders settle between your legs, glancing up through thick lashes, eyes blown wide and glittering in the soft, evening light pouring in through your parted window.

When you feel the heat of his breath against your clit, you choke out a weak warning.

“Ben—”

His hands grip your hips, dragging you flush against his mouth before you can protest.

You gasp loudly into the air, your head whipping back in a sudden barrage of ecstasy as his hot tongue presses up against your pussy. Your hand flies down the next beat, nestling into his thick, dark locks, still moist from his earlier shower.

“Say that again,” he growls against your clit, sending ripples of pleasure through your core, “and I’ll keep you here all damn night.”

Kylo eats you like his life depends on it. He groans against your slick pussy, shameless, his fingers bruising into the skin of your thighs as he pulls you deeper. The rhythm is torturous, perfect, and when your hips buck, he pins them down hard.

You’re shaking, chest heaving, just barely able to utter your mewls of pleasure. You try for wit or something equally flippant to his efforts, but it all ends in vain as he continues his fingerless ministrations.

You’re already a mess, clinging to his hair with trembling fingers, his name pouring from your lips like damnation. Something red-hot curls in your belly, spreading through your core and thighs, prefacing the steady approach of something much larger than you can handle.

“K-Kylo—fuck, please—”

He hums against you almost purposefully, the vibration making you cry out into the flesh of your folded arm. Feeling like you’re already on the precipice of a climax, you tug at his locks in short, staggering motions. This urges him to halt his torture for a second, pulling back just long enough to meet your eyes. His chin glistens with your wetness, smirk downright cruel in its mockery.

“Please what?” He murmurs, and your breath catches for a beat. You’re thoroughly speechless, staring down at him with a creased forehead and parted lips that he mercilessly rejects with a soft shrug.

He begins to lower again, unaffected by your fervent mewls of protest. When his tongue twirls against your entrance, you tug at his hair again, hard.

“Use your words,” he only growls, never leaving your pussy as his eyes burn into yours. The sight is dirty enough to make you toss your head back with a ragged moan, cheeks flushed with the ache of an impending orgasm.

“Don’t be a dick—”

“Say it.” His voice is deeper now, ragged and close to breaking before he licks a long, languid strip up your entire core. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck—” you gasp, body jerking when he flicks his nose against your clit. “I don’t— I don’t wanna cum yet.”

He relaxes slightly, letting you shift your leg out of the confines of his grip and bend it at the knee.

Kylo moves away from you painstakingly slow, letting his breath hover over your mound for a beat longer before he settles his cheek against your thigh. You watch as he kisses a stripe down your leg, holding you close with a balanced grip.

“Tell me,” he whispers again, eyes flitting across your face impatiently. “Just tell me what you need.”

You withdraw your hand from his hair, watching his lips twitch at the loss of contact. But you’re already one step ahead, needy fingers trailing down his cheekbone and planting against the softness of his speckled cheek.

“Ben,” you sigh softly, urging the man’s breath to catch. He looks at you needily, pressing a final kiss to your thigh before you’re gasping your desires.

“I need you inside me.”

And that seems to wreck whatever control he had left.

Kylo growls your name, and the next thing you know, he’s moving up your body, mouth crashing against yours like he can’t stand another second without it. You taste yourself on his lips, sweet and animalic, and whimper into the kiss, fingers dragging down his back in white lines.

“Fuck,” you breathe between kisses, your legs wrapping around his hips like a woman gone mad. “Stop teasing.”

His mouth ghosts against your jaw and down the column of your throat. Once he locates the thick muscle, he bites down with a ragged groan.

You yelp, half-laughing as you slap at his shoulder in shock of the savage display of his affections.

“Ouch—you asshole!”

“Mm.” He doesn’t sound sorry, and naturally, you doubt he is. His voice dips, low and warm against your skin as he kisses the bite mark with pertinent accuracy. “Don’t you like it when I’m mean?”

“No,” you lie, tilting your head back as he sucks another bruise into your neck. This one feels softer, yet the adrenaline pumping your veins makes it sizzle with heat. “I like it when you shut up and—”

“Say please.” He grins against your throat, boyish, wolfish, and entirely maddening to witness.

“Please,” you whisper, too breathless to sound smug about it or even try to deny him the satisfaction like you usually would. It’s unlike you, but agreeing to fuck him in general was starting to feel quite uncouth for your situation.

Hence, as you stumble along the precipice of your morals, you suddenly figure that you might as well just leap in.

“God, Ben, please—”

The second you say his name again, it’s like a fuse gets lit.

He shifts away from you, sitting on his knees. His eyes rake over your face, and he grins wildly, keeping furious eye contact as his fingers trace over the hem of his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, practiced motion, shooting you a sly wink once he spots you watching.

“Slut,” you force through a tight grin, making him snort humorously.

“Careful,” he warns as the top gets tossed on a pile with yours, his gaze half-lidded when he begins toying with the hem of his sweatpants. “You’ll wanna be nice to me going forward.”

His fingers twirl around the knotted thread, loosening it with a pull. Immediately, the melange fabric slides down his hipbone, revealing a neat line of dark hair leading to a cloth-obscured mound.

You look up at him with bated breath, his gaze searing into yours like fire.

His jaw tightens at the sight of your fluster, hooking a thumb into the waistband. Slowly, tentatively, he forces it down his hips, revealing the base of his length.

You chew your lip with a soft mewl, propping your body on your elbows to get closer. The sweatpants ride down his thighs, and finally, the whole girth of his cock springs free.

You can’t help the lewd moan that escapes your lips at the sight, gaze flitting over the thick head and slick pre-cum.

Kylo wastes no time, wrapping his fist tight and giving the breadth an experimental pump.

You hear him hiss something insignificant under his breath as the stickiness coats his knuckles, making your mouth inexplicably water. And, naturally, he notices.

“Keep looking.”

You scoff at his half-hearted mockery, shoving his thigh with the ball of your foot.

But instead of arguing, he swiftly mounts you again with a growl of your name. The sound reverberates through your pleasure-deprived body like thunder, his mouth finding yours within seconds of the assault.

You whimper into the kiss, pushed back into the pillow as he works at his cock. His tongue slips past your lips, wrestling with your own in a battle never fit in your favor.

You hear the soft pumps grow increasingly slicker, and suddenly, something grazes the inner flesh of your thigh. You don’t need to break the kiss and look down to realize just how hard he’s gotten, the fact alone sending a crisp jolt down your spine.

“You’re shivering,” he mutters against your skin, tracing his tongue down the thin veil of goosebumps emerging on your shoulder. “You excited?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out breathless. His cock smooths along the skin of your thigh, inching closer toward your impatient folds.

“You were practically drooling.” He counters smoothly, his hand slipping under your knee almost inconspicuously. “Might start charging you for the view.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Yeah?” he drawls, voice dark and low. His hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it higher. “What’s this all about, then?”

He takes a firm hold of your knees, spreading you wide and open before planting the length of his cock between your slick folds. You choke out a sharp, tight gasp when he begins to move, thick shaft inching against the entire height of your needy pussy.

Your lips part to answer, but all that comes out is a strained, suffocated moan.

He chuckles lowly at your torture, hastily gripping the base of his cock and letting it slap against your clit in quick succession. The reverberating pleasure hits you like a rolling tide, urging you to hiss a staggered profanity and inch your hand toward his abs.

His hand moves down in response, guiding himself against your entrance with a shaky breath.

“That’s what I thought.”

He slides in devastatingly slow, pulling a guttural sound straight from your lungs as your channel pulls to accommodate him.

As he slowly bottoms out, the engorged head of his cock presses against your cervix, urging you to gasp raggedly. Your back arches instinctively, eyes rolling shut with the stretch of him. He’s thick and hot and throbbing inside you, and the way your body flutters helplessly around him draws a guttural curse from his chest.

“Oh, fuck—” Kylo lets his head drop to your shoulder, whispering your name into the dew-covered skin like a prayer. “Shit—you're tight—” he pants, voice cracking as he slowly pulls out, then bangs back in. Your cry echoes against the walls, strained against his neck.

“Oh my God,” you choke out, clawing at his shoulder blades with trembling hands as he presses his body against you.

He wastes no time setting a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours with bruising thrusts that make your toes curl and your brain short-circuit in their intensity.

“You feel that?” he grits through clenched teeth, driving into you harder each time your moans turn into strained mewls. “That’s what happens when you tease me.”

You can barely speak, voice caught somewhere between a sob and a moan as your muscles tighten with the delicious intrusion. “I—I didn’t even—”

His hand catches the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up further around his waist, getting impossibly deeper.

Your hands fumble at his shoulders, nails dragging across sweat-slick skin as his hips settle between yours. You’re flushed, throbbing, and trembling, but it’s the hungry look in his eyes that really undoes you in the end.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you whisper, voice wrecked and shaky as he plows into you. “You’re such a— f-fucking asshole.”

His breath hitches in something close to a laugh, but it’s not amused or mocking anymore.

“Yeah? You think I haven’t imagined it?” he growls, cock twitching inside you with every motion. “You—shit—under me. Moaning m-my name while you swear you fuckin’ hate me.”

You swallow hard. Your body’s trembling under his, nerves buzzing with adrenaline and something white-hot bubbling in your tummy.

“I still— I still h-hate you,” you breathe raggedly, words slurring into nothing as Kylo leans in.

He grins, lowering his lips just inches from yours but denying you closure.

“Liar.”

His pace picks up into a ragged pounding, stretching you inch by inch and watching your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. You claw at his back, mumbling quiet obscenities into the crook of his neck.

“I-I think I’ll—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He groans low, forehead pressed to yours. “God, you feel better than I dreamt—”

You gasp, hands raking through his dark locks as you let out a short, disbelieving laugh into the tantric air between you.

“You’ve dreamt about this, you sick fuck?”

His pace stills just long enough for him to breathe, lips curled into a wolfish smirk when his dark eyes meet yours in a moment of pure rapture.

“Every goddamn night.”

And then his lips are on yours again. He captures you in a sloppy, needy kiss, your whole body seizing at his filthy confession, cunt clenching tight around his cock with a sudden, aching spasm.

Kylo lets out a strained cry into your mouth, parting just enough to husk out a quiet praise.

“That’s it.” His hand slithers between your bodies, inching down your belly with a torturous gait. “Just like that.”

His thumb meets your clit, circling firmly around the precipice and sending a surge of warmth through your entire body. The combined sensation of his ministrations and the steady pumping of his cock makes you wail, loud and pathetic.

He chuckles haphazardly, catching a steady rhythm with his digit. The space between you fills with loud, filthy slaps as he bottoms out with every pump.

“Good girl.”

Your breath catches with a broken moan.

“Say it again,” you whisper, dazed and confused and so painfully close to cumming you think you might pass out before you part the threshold.

“My good girl,” he repeats, shamelessly biting down on your shoulder and urging your walls to contract once more.

He responds accordingly, bucking hard into you with a strained laugh. “Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

You nod, barely. Your mind’s already floating, the pain and pleasure mixing too sweetly to try and separate.

“You gonna cum for me?” he pants, voice dipping with a sudden stutter of his hips.

You’re shaking, crying out, clinging to him like your life depends on it while he watches you with bated breath.

“Kylo—fuck, Ben—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he laughs saccharinely, drawing his thumb away from your clit. The loss of pressure, however devastating, is quickly replaced by something much warmer and more welcome: his palm against your cheek, holding you close as you steadily approach your expiration. “C’mon. Wanna feel you ‘round me.”

“Shit,” you breathe, the thread of your impending pleasure threatening to break with every thrust. You’re soaked now, the excess of slick letting him slide into you with agonizing ease. “F-Fuck—fuck!”

You writhe under him, gasping into the crook of his neck as he curses under his breath, burying himself to the very hilt. You feel him grow tired now, each movement less regular than the last, while all you can do is call his name.

“God, I’m so fuckin’ close—” he hisses against you, bringing his face back to let your gazes fall in tandem. The wicked, lust-filled swirl of his eyes makes your lips twitch with a smile, looking into him like a fearing reverend. “I’m—I’m gonna cum. Jesus Christ—”

And amidst your unholy duet, you don’t believe the words that flee your mouth next.

“I—I’m safe—just—”

“Fuck—shit,” he moans, face morphing into pure, uninhibited perversion at your words, his thrusts slowing now as he knocks close to completion. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” you wail in response, heart fluttering at his wolfish grin once he hears your explicit permission to do what you felt was unthinkable. “Yes, just— I’m fuckin’ yours, just—”

“God.” Kylo’s forehead connects with yours, voice low and delirious as his pace picks up again. When you cry out, he swallows it with a kiss, hips rolling into you in short, punishing strokes that leave you little time to think. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

Your release slams into you like a devastating collision, blooming in your belly and legs. You arch beneath him with a cry, shaking and coming undone in his strong arms as your cunt pulses steadily around his thick length.

With a string of half-formed curses, he buries himself deep with a stab of his hips against yours. The impact of his cock against your womb accelerates your orgasm into pure ecstasy, making you cling onto him for dear life.

With a guttural call of your name, Kylo spills into you, his hips stuttering to deliver a series of conclusive, powerful thrusts that your spent pussy welcomes greedily.

Amidst a symphony of cries and moans, you both lie there in complete bliss, chests heaving as he collapses onto you with a ragged breath. He’s heavy but warm, so solid and real you snake your arms around his neck to keep the feelings close to your heart.

Minutes pass before his hand eventually drags up your side with surprising gentleness, trailing lazy circles along your ribs and waist.

You exhale shakily, staring at the ceiling with a half-smile.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Kylo snorts softly against your shoulder, nuzzling into your sweat-slick skin. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Letting you fuck me,” you elaborate half-heartedly, unsure how authentic your words are anymore as your fingers graze the hair on the nape of his neck. “You’re insatiable.”

He hums, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and rolling you both to the side, making sure his cock never slips out of you even now as it’s softened. You mewl at the sensation, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Mm,” he mutters, dark gaze flicking over your face with residual hunger. “Didn’t hear any complaints until now.”

“Uh-huh,” you scoff softly, nestling your hands against his chest. “If I can’t walk tomorrow morning, I’m suing.”

He smirks, leaning in to string soft kisses against your hairline. “Except you’re not walking anywhere. This is a hostage situation.”

You close your eyes and let out a long, defeated sigh, tangling your sore legs with his. “You’re actually the worst person I’ve ever met.”

He looks at you again, quirking an eyebrow in near-authentic offense.

“Yeah,” he agrees haphazardly, brushing your nose with his. “But you let this horrible guy hit raw, so what does that say about you, then?”

You feel uncharacteristically stumped, unable to muster a witty retort as you spot his plush, bitten lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. You return it absentmindedly, letting the rare, sweet moment linger as long as it wants to.

For a moment, the air between you stills.

There’s no heat or panting desperation, just the quiet weight of his body and the subtle warmth of his fingers ghosting lazy lines along your waist. You let your face fall into the crook of his neck, quietly breathing his scent in.

“You okay?” he asks softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The affection makes your eyes inexplicably glaze over.

You let a soft sigh of affirmation escape your lips as your eyes start to flutter closed.

“Yeah,” you murmur into his skin, holding there to escape his gaze. Somehow, you don’t think you’d be able to face him right now without shedding tears. “Just tired.”

He hums, tilting his head so that his temple rests against yours, breath warm where it hits your heated, oversensitive skin.

“Sleep. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You exhale a chuckle, turning your face into the crook of his neck, lulled by the steady beat of his breathing beneath your cheek. As the aftermath of your wild deed lowers to a simmer, something much more visceral slithers between your lungs.

Your lashes brush his neck, lips parted with a soft exhale of your anxiety.

“Will you stay?”

There’s a pause. You can’t see his face, but you feel him stiffen slightly. His fingers curl a little tighter around your hip, anchoring himself to you while you wonder if it hurts him to answer.

When he does, you hear the haphazard humor lacing his tone like an escape from the pains of reality.

“Maybe.”

It’s not a promise, and though you yearned for something genuine, you don’t ask again. You know he wouldn’t be able to answer you in earnest, even if you pleaded on your knees.

And though your body still sings his praises as he curls a protective arm around your waist, your mind’s already running with a million questions: wondering what version of him you’ll wake up to tomorrow and whether anything that felt this good could ever survive the fallout.

Your breathing slows, limbs going soft beneath his as you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of your hearts intertwined, if only for one night.

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