. . . Deal With The Devil . . .
His ship is cold and bare, yet this time he lets me rest within his quarters and not the medical wing. He sits at his desk, back toward me while I lie on his sheets, staring up at the ceiling. The ship is bright and white and completely obnoxious for my impending headache. It twists and burns behind my eyes.
I need spice, I need a drink.
I groan and shift on the stiff mattress for the millionth time and glance at the back of his head again. He's sitting up straight, hasn't moved from that position since he sat down two hours ago. In his hands he holds a data pad, filling out reports and forms and whatever he's supposed to be doing as Supreme Leader.
I shift again. My skin feels like it doesn't sit right over my bones. I crack my knuckles. I crack my neck. My toes, my hips. I'm restless yet I've never felt so dead. Even when I am dead, I feel alive. Even when I have been imprisoned by his men and chained down I've felt this rush of adrenaline. Now I feel an uneasy calm wash over me making my chest ache, every beat of my heart behind my ribs sending powerful bursts through my body to my head.
"Kylo.." I mumbled, burying my cheek into his pillows. He doesn't hum or turn around, not even a muscle in his jaw jumps at the sound of my voice. He doesn't make any attempt at signifying to me that he even heard me. I know what this is. He's bleeding me dry. I know Kylo, and I know how he likes to fly his ships. He doesn't like to waste any time, and not once since we've boarded have we gone into hyperspace. "You know you've never seen me fully sober." I speak up, trying to clear out the croak from my voice. Yet he makes no move once again. There's a deep rasp in my voice. Despite the straining position he's in, his shoulders and back muscles are relaxed, that same tension he's been carrying for weeks isn't there anymore. It's either dulled or he's numb to my games. "This can't be what you want from me." I continued, a shiver racking over my body yet sweat glistens against my skin. "What do you think I want from you?" his voice lulls out slowly, like a gentle breeze but I can hear him in it, his bitterness, his need for control and power. "You don't want me to be sober, not really, or else you'd have tried to convince me long ago. Recruited me to your game of power and possession but you didn't. You still won't. You want to watch me suffer the same way you do every day. You want a partner in your misery."
The silence speaks louder than words, yet I do not expect for him to stand. The chair scraps against the metal flooring with a loud shriek making me cringe within myself. He walks to the viewport without looking back at me. You can see the stars and a planet in this distance. "If it were true, that I bask in your pain I'd be strapping you down and watching you. I haven't looked at you once since I laid you to rest." he says to the transparisteel. "The truth is I want you alive. The worst is yet to come. The sickness isn't over, hasn't even begun. Staying clean is harder than getting clean. What happens now is up to you." he's giving all the control over. Of the addiction, of the want, the drive, the need to be sober might be overruled by your own desire to feel free. The responsibility is a heavy weight to bare within your chest, only adding fuel to the fire with the weight already there, bursting within your heart as the agony begins to wash over you. The headache, the hunger, the pain.
"Where are you taking me?"
He turns around again, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I never get to see him like this, no cape, no helmet, I now realize he's not even wearing gloves and the loop that usually is connected to the handle of his saber is missing from his slacks. This is the barest I've seen him in months. This is not Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, this isn't the Sith I was used to, this was just Kylo. Maybe even not him either, it's hard to tell who he wants to be when he thinks he doesn't want something. The heart wants what it wants or whatever.
"I'm taking you to the Finalizer. There, you will be given a bedroom in the medical wing to undergo a complete detox. You won't be eating trashy foods or staying up longer than a single planetary cycle. You will work on my ship under my order, and you will not go anywhere without me. Do you understand me?"
I blink over at him, trying to understand but the longer I lie here the sicker I feel. I try and push myself up onto my elbow but it shakes and is unsteady beneath me. "What?" I mutter, trying to fix my eyesight on him. Kylo sighs and shakes his head. "Nothing. We'll figure it out later. For now, I need you to rest. We're about to enter hyperspace and you will only feel worse if you try to fight it." my body slumps back against the cold sheets, my sweat lingering against the blanket. The air in the room seems to be humming, and a heavier pressure than before settles over me making it even harder to breathe. His heavy boots thump against the floor. "That is. Rest." a shadow falls over my shivering frame. "Sleep. I'll be here, watching over you." and then it all falls quiet once again.
Every night on the Finalizer after that is filled with agony. My wrists bound to the sides of my medical bed, the heavy machinery beeping all around me. Meals at the same time every day, mild pain relievers, buckets filled with my own sickness and blood I've thrown up. My body isn't handling it well. I've taken enough drugs in my lifetime to kill a very large, very violent sand dune snake. And now trying to recover from it, is the worst agony I've ever felt. I've been shot at, stabbed, impaled, kicked and beaten down, I've been tossed across rooms and have had my body used in ways I'm very ashamed of, and yet nothing comes close to this pain.
Every bone in my body rattles like a child's toy, and I have visions every night of distant memories I've forgotten, my stomach churns again and again like butter on a hot day. Silky, smooth, and coming up too quickly and easily. Kylo does not visit me once. Not until everything is out of my system, he finally frees me, carries me up to his large bedroom and lets me sleep for the first peaceful night I've had in a long time. I spent two weeks strapped down to a bed, dealing with a sickness only I could have prevented before he came. Sometimes I hate him and sometimes I find myself thankful. I feel reborn. Like a fucking virgin. And I wonder what kind of devil in him it took to let me scream throughout all that, and then I feel rage. The one thing I swore to never be again, sober, never be sober ever again, and here he is taking away my choices! How dare he, who does he think he is?
"Get your hands off." I mumbled, trying to take a swing at him, like I had done many times before. However I don't recall what happened afterward, as I was utterly exhausted from spending two weeks screaming and crying in pain, that I found myself falling asleep on his chest. When I awoke a couple hours later, the lights in his bedroom were dimmed, and I was reclining on his rather thick chest, his heart beating steadily in my ear. "Don't fight me." he whispers into my hair, his hands tightening on my waist when I begin to wriggle. "And why not? You've kidnapped me twice."
"I've helped you twice. Don't twist it into something negative." his muscles work overtime to keep me pinned against him. I whine tiredly, trying to push him away. I'm in no mood to fight but my body doesn't recognize this kind of pressure in a way that means safety and not distress.
"If you stop moving I'll get you a drink." I freeze. "What kind of drink?" I ask his chest. "The kind you want, but I won't let you drink a lot of it. I just need you to settle down." I think it over for a moment. A drink.. The drink, the kind that I want? He lets me shift around on top of him a bit, his cold fingers press into my skin where my shirt lifted, no doubt leaving marks of his fingers on my hip bones. "What kind of drink?" I repeat. "I will let you have a half glass of that Corellian whiskey I know you like, if you stop moving."
I don't trust my voice so I nod instead. "If I let you go will you stay in my bed?" I nod again. Gradually, his hands released from my hips and he slides out from under me. My eyes trail over him as he wanders to his desk, a clear bottle of dark liquor sitting there. A half glass of whiskey won't even get me through the morning, but at least it's something. I mean I deserve more after everything he put me through these past two weeks. I watch him pour us both drinks, one a little less than the other, which I assume to be mine. After he finishes pouring us drinks he walks over and hands me mine.
The next week and a half rolls through just like this. I sleep in his bed, lounge around his bedroom and watch the stars. I'm paced to only having a half glass of whiskey once a day. I've never felt so clear headed, but also loud. Like every thought in my head had a mind of its own. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with them all, the thing's I'd done wrong, the people I'd killed or screwed over.
And with these new voices in my head, reminding me of every wrong, I've realized I can be very annoying. Petulant even. Whining in Kylo's ear when I don't like the clothes he's wearing and making him change. Gossiping about two of his men chattering over the radios and reciting to him everything I learned. I didn't stop speaking. Constantly sending him messages and notes to his data pad while he worked, lingering around him longer than necessary. I was clingy. He tolerated it with a silence that felt like nothing more than a wall. He doesn't engage. He just absorbs it, fixes it, and moves on.
Tonight felt much like the first night this whole parade started, me lounging half naked on his bed, him pouring me my first and only glass of the night. I was hoping to butter him up enough, or annoy him enough that he'll get me a bit more than just half a glass, but nothing has worked so far. I was tired tonight, tired from the pestering I had done the whole morning. Watching the troopers train, the people in the cafeteria work. Kylo stands with his back to me, arms crossed behind his back, his glass sitting with its usual amount (more than a half glass) beside him on his desk. The stars glitter in front of him. "You're pacing." I say in realization. He hasn't since down since he claimed he wanted to 'turn in' for the night.. And that was four hours ago. He's on his first glass still, hasn't even glanced at it since he poured ours. I was hoping he'll get drunk enough to forget about our little deal. That he'll get drunk enough to fuck me, fall asleep, and then I can slip away before he realizes it. Then I can be far away from him by the time he wakes up, and I'll go back to my old life. "it's annoying. Either sit down or go outside. Your hovering makes me anxious." I sit up, only wearing his t-shirt and a pair of panties. "You've had one glass." I roll my eyes, I have had one glass once a day every night so far, what's the issue now?
"And you haven't had a single one. Which makes you boring and me fascinating. It's simple math, Ren." I swirl the amber whiskey in my glass before setting it down on the bed side table with a quiet thunk. "What's the limit anyway? Two glasses?"
"The limit.." he starts, voice low and echoing in his nearly unfurnished bedroom. "is when you stop looking for the bottom of the bottle, and start looking at what's in front of you." I scoff. "What's standing in front of me is a large bastard who won't come to bed.. I'm lonely Kylo."
"You're not lonely. You're bored. You're bored and you're trying to pick a fight because you're sober and you don't know what to do with yourself when you're not chasing a high or running from something." he turns to finally face me. I glare at him, staring at the scarring along his cheek. At first I was pissed that something had touched the beautiful clean skin of his face, but for right now I'm glad. I'm tired of him thinking he can tell me whatever just because he's the Supreme Leader, because to me, Supreme Leader is just a fancy title only idiots with fear in their hearts fall for. And I have never been afraid of much. "You've been on my ship for three weeks now. You've insulted every officer you meet, reprogrammed a cleaning droid to follow Hux around singing Huttese love ballads," a small smirk dances over my lips. Alright, I admit I was never once perfect on this journey, but who am I without a little mischief? "And you've drunk exactly one glass of Corellian whiskey every day since I allowed it. You're testing the boundaries of my patience because it's the only game you have left." he reaches his hand out and pulls his glass to his lips, finally taking a single, yet long, sip. His throat bobs as he swallows, adam's apple as prominent as ever. "So, if you want to start a fight, say it. If you want something else..." he leaves his own sentence hanging, allowing me to fill in the lines with whatever I was thinking of at the moment.
honestly, I was thinking of what life would be like once I was free of this prison. Although the quarters are nice and his men let me walk all over them, and the droids are easy to hack into, this isn't the life I imagined for myself and I have no idea what to do here. I feel like I'm free falling in space.. Or maybe drowning in the biggest ocean ever, and no matter how hard I try and stay afloat something always tugs me back down.
"You are acting like a Jedi." I hissed, standing up from his hard mattress, his face only mildly twists in disgust at the . "It disgusts me." my cold feet meet the metal flooring sending a chill up my spine. "No spice. No flying. What's next? No alcohol? No sex?" I quirk an eyebrow at him, pacing closer, but slow. "No music? Do you want me to start wearing robes and meditating while you're gone?" I jab my pointer finger in his direction. "Last I remembered, you brought me here. You did this to me. You police my drug and liquor intake, you tell me not to fly or to work. I just sleep! You dragged me out of a gutter and put me in a cage. Maybe I wanted to die! Maybe I was meant to... All those times you've come to rescue me. You want me sober? Well I can't be. Not really, not the way you want. You want me perfect but I'm not perfect and neither are you!" I yelled at him, finally snapping over into something ugly and true.
"If you think this is about control, you are far from correct. You think I like seeing you sick? I liked having fun with you, drinking, having sex, but you aren't ready! I'm not stopping you from doing anything at all. We both know that if you want something, you'll get it. I'm trying to stop you from using it as another way to forget who you are... I want you to live!"
At some point he got closer, his chest pressing against yours. He didn't shout loud, just fierce, strong, he had a point unfortunately and that's the fuck of it all. You could understand why he wanted you to live but you couldn't understand why it was you. Who were you compared to everyone else? You had met hundreds of women who struggled with the same thing you had, alcoholism, addiction, smuggling, no family or close friends, zero trust in the galaxy, and a 'give 'em hell' attitude. "If you want to fuck y/n, then want it. Don't do it because you're bored or angry or depressed and trying to feel something. Want it for what it is, for what I am. I never once claimed to be a good man but you are the one who wanted to fuck around and do this- not the other way around. So don't you dare ever blame me for the emptiness you're trying to feel."
My eyes water a little but I don't dare look away. My cheeks feel aflame with embarrassment. I hate him. I hate him with everything I possess within my DNA yet I cannot ignore the way I burn for him. Because he is right, in that unfortunate way only Kylo Ren can be. And it's because he just knows. His stupid little force super powers have always given him an edge over me. "You don't get to tell me what I want." I snarled, voice low and cold. I stand my ground, lifting my chin high to look up at him. His stare is dark, it's normal, natural, broodiness. "No. I don't." the line of his shoulders is tense as he turns away from me.
"You're right. This is a cage. My cage and I've brought you to it." his fingers curl into a tight fist on either side of his waist before releasing, the sound of him breathing loud in the now silent room. "I brought you here.. Because I had two choices... Hux suggested I leave you alone completely, on a nameless planet, no way to get off. Just you, some food and open air." the information strikes my blood cold in my veins. He what? "But you'd be completely alone. You couldn't hurt yourself if you tried. I'd check in randomly of course.. But I didn't want you to be alone- I couldn't leave you alone. And at least here, in my room, on my ship, you're not."
The thought of being stranded on an empty planet makes my eyes sting. That was the ultimate betrayal in my book, and the fact he'd thought it over, thought it over enough to not want to do it make my stomach churn. He thought of it, he had it planned, and then realized he wouldn't be able to leave me. It's bittersweet on both ends.
He looks over his shoulder back at me, those black curls shining in his bedroom lighting. "So what do you want? I will take you anywhere you want to go, within reason, but I need to know."
"I don't have sex with because I'm bored, maybe sometimes but not all the time. I do it because I like the way you make me feel.. And I don't want you to leave me either- fuck I hate admitting that! I'm not mad at you, I'm no trying to enact revenge, I just... I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me because you've said it now, that you need me around. That you need to feel my skin on yours, and I need yours on mine. So please..."
The words hang in the air, the most open I've ever been. My heart is pounding in my ears so loudly that for a moment, when his lips open to speak I feared I wouldn't be able to hear him. His lips move yet no sound comes out and I wonder who's broken, him or I? He's so still from my lack of sarcasm and my usual defensiveness. Raw, untamed.
And it's just him and I, standing here in this room together, unable to move or look away from each other. His eyes search my face for the game, and I search his for a trap, did I say exactly what he wanted? Was he going to throw this all in my face?
The heat between us simmers hotter than a planet with four suns, and in the blink of an eye Kylo has turned around, boots thudding against the floor with a heaviness that makes the room quake. His hands press on either of my cheeks, tilting my face up. For a brief moment, I'm utterly blinded by the lights on the ceiling before it's covered by his large frame, his thick, plump, pink lips press against mine with a heat I've never felt before. It sends a warmth shooting down my stomach making my legs feel like jelly. I'm hot and cold and shivering and sweating all at the same time. "Skin on skin." he mutters against my lips, just after his tongue tangles with mind. "if that's what you want, then that's what you'll have.."
