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Kneel

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It’s time to let old things die. 

There are times Kylo lets his mind drift back to the burning of that memory. He remembers fire—around them and inside them—everything ablaze in the wake of what they’d done. 

There had been a moment, one where he’d feared she would reject him, and in that span of seconds everything had burned brighter, hotter. 

But her little hand had felt so good in his own, her fingers trembling with uncertainty, but their bond alight with need, raw need— mirroring the hunger inside him. 

She’d come to him just as he’d foreseen, she’d given herself to him wholly, and the way he’d bared her, the way he’d broken her open to crawl inside, now… 

Now there is no part of her where he doesn’t live.

I want you to join me, he’d told her. We can rule together and bring a new order to the galaxy. 

And so they have. 

Snoke, Skywalker, the Sith, the Jedi, the Rebels… buried.

Nothing left of the galaxy they’d once known, nothing but the one they’ve made in its place.

She lingers near his throne, one he hadn’t thought he’d wanted until he envisioned her standing beside it—always within reach. Always near where he might reach out and touch her if he desires. 

And he does. Desire. There isn’t a single moment he doesn’t imagine his hands on her skin. 

He is slung low in his seat, chin propped against his fist as he listens to the daily report. Already he’s grown bored of it—nothing in the droning quality of the officer’s voice to capture his interest. He can feel the steady hum of their bond as it crackles between them, sensing the way she’s ever alert, ever on edge as her eyes shift about the room. Always so careful, his Rey.

His mind touches hers like the brush of his fingers, and he can feel her shiver like his own, hear her silent intake of air as if it fills his own lungs.

You are still angry.

The bond prickles with irritation.

Should I not be?

Kylo feels his lips quirk minutely, careful to hide his smirk beneath his hand so as not to broadcast it to the Knights that litter the room. 

I prefer adoration.

Then perhaps you should earn it.

He feels his cock twitch in his trousers, her defiance always stirring something inside that is as unexpected as it is alluring.

I think you forget your place, my apprentice.

He can practically feel the way her lips curl in distaste, knowing that he is pushing her. Enjoying every moment.

The Supreme Leader forgets who warms his bed.

He has to close his eyes as images of the night prior floods his vision. His lovely apprentice, gasping beneath him, her pretty little body flushed and wanting for more of what only he can give her. Begging for it. She begs for no man, no man in any star system—save for him.

That knowledge alone makes him feel more powerful than any title ever could.

You like it when I push you.

Sometimes you push too hard.

Is that so?

You know it is.

And what if I wanted to push you right now, Rey?

I would tell you it is unwise.

He can’t stifle his pleasure now, feeling it bubble up in his chest.

Then I would tell you again that you forget your place.

He manipulates the Force, bending it to his will for the most lascivious of purposes as he coaxes her skin to warm, her breathing to hasten. He can feel the effects of it in the way her breath catches, so softly that surely no one else will hear it—but he does.

Tell me, Rey. Tell me that you would do anything I asked.

I won’t tell you a lie.

I think maybe you didn’t learn your lesson last night.

There are flashes of memory that he feeds her—of his fingers in her hair and his cock deep in her throat as she pleads through their bond for relief, begs for permission to touch herself.

Don’t even think about it.

Would you tell me no, I wonder?

Yes.

He concentrates at the place just between her thighs, imagining his tongue there, heavy and wet as she squirms with the sensation he’s giving her without ever moving from his throne.

Oh, Rey. Why would you deny me anything? He imagines licking through her cunt as she writhes above him, and he can sense the way she is wet between her thighs from the phantom touches he gives through their bond. Why deny me when I only want to give?

The imprint of her teeth against her lower lip is light, but Kylo feels every indent against the swell of his own mouth as her chest rises and falls a little heavier now.

Kylo.

You’re lovely here, he croons in the darkest recesses of her mind. I don’t tell you enough. 

Her grip on her saber staff is tighter now, and he thinks the abysmal officer is still speaking to him, trying to get his attention. Kylo still hardly knows what he’s said—but he gives a brief nod of his head as he dismisses the man with a promise to follow up later. He can feel Rey’s relief at her reprieve as the officer retreats from the room, and he lets her revel in it for a moment, allows her to think that he is done with her.

Not knowing that he is far from it. 

Not quite understanding that he will never be done with her.

“Rey,” he murmurs quietly, giving a slow turn of his head as she meets his eyes. “Yesterday I told you not to venture out without me.”

Her nostrils flare, and her eyes burn with defiance. “I took care of it, just as I said I would.”

“You disobeyed me.”

I took my punishment, she hisses through the bond. It’s over.

Oh, Rey, he laughs inside her mind. It’s over when I say it is.

Come here,” he urges quietly, leaving no room for argument.

He hears her inhale only to release it slowly, and yet for all her bluster there is a current of anticipation he feels beneath her skin. He feels the thrumming of her heart in his own chest as she moves to stand before him, looking up at where he is perched on the stone throne.

“Yes, Supreme Leader?”

He feels a shiver down his spine at her coy tone, and he knows she’s baiting him, her pretty mouth curling in an act of challenging him, and oh—how he would love to give it something better to do.

In fact…

“I want you to kneel, Rey.”

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but Kylo keeps his expression passive.

Her throat bobs with a swallow. “Kneel?”

“Yes,” he tells her. “Kneel.”

Her eyes flick over to the silent Knights that line the room—her jaw tensing.

“They know what will happen if their gazes wander,” he assures her. “And I can promise you that I will know.”

Rey presses her lips together as she spares another glance in their direction, but despite all her protests, he can feel her excitement. It’s that spark of something inside her, that kernel of forbidden that matches his own—that wildness that he would burn planets for. 

It’s everything she is that ensnares him.

She goes to her knees slowly, eyes locked on his as she settles between his spread legs that jut out casually from his throne, looking up at him in expectation as she awaits whatever it is he has planned, even knowing already exactly what he wants. She can feel it, after all.

He reaches to let his fingers trail over her jaw, his touch light and airy before he grabs the proud curve to let his grip become something less so. He squeezes with just enough force that her lips pout, offering him the sight of the darker red inside—a flash of her pink little tongue darting out to flick against the leather of his gloved thumb. 

“Who is your master, Rey?”

Her eyes narrow. “No one.”

Strong, so strong, his Rey.

He squeezes a little harder, until she gasps softly. “Who is your master?”

The Force creeps under her clothes to caress her skin, and he urges it lower until he can practically taste the wet of her cunt against his tongue. Feel it as if his hand lingers there. Her eyes flutter, and her fingers extend outwards until they graze his boots, curling higher to grip the backs of his calves. 

No one,” she grinds out, fighting the way he tests her, and he knows it is only because the darkest parts of her enjoy this. Because she lives for the reminder that he is her only equal. 

His thumb slides over her lower lip, dipping inside to press against her tongue. “I think you need that reminder.”

Her voice is light and airy now. “What would you suggest?” 

He pushes the images into her head, deliberately painting the picture of what he wants, feeling his cock harden with every frame of the scene they’re both watching. 

Her eyes dart around wildly. “Here?”

“No man will ever see you like this. None that would live to talk about it.”

There’s hesitation in her eyes, but inside she is bright and alive. Already her hands shake with anticipation at the idea of bringing him to his most vulnerable state in front of an entire room of those who should never see him that way. 

Her palm slides over his clothed cock, humming softly when she feels how hard he is beneath. “Is this how I should be punished?”

“I think it’s fitting.”

“I imagine you would,” she murmurs, running a finger over the ties that bind his trousers to trace the shape of him beneath.

“I think that’s quite enough of you addressing me so casually,” he warns her. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

His fingers slide over her cheek to fist her hair. “Yes, what ?”

“Yes”—her throat moves with her swallow as her cheeks flush—“Master.”

“My lovely apprentice,” he praises, grip loosening to cradle the crown of her head. He brings his other hand to her face so that he might trace the shape of her mouth with his index finger. “I like this mouth when it addresses me so sweetly. I think I would like it better wrapped around my cock.” 

She smirks in response, and he tugs at her hair to extend her neck as her eyes close languidly. He imagines the way he fills her here, as he runs his finger down over the curve of her throat. His hand wraps around it lightly, giving it a barely-there squeeze as he visualizes just how full she is when she takes him in her mouth.

And when he releases her, hands leaving her skin and her hair so that he might settle back against his throne—Kylo trains his features into impassivity as he spreads his legs a little wider.

“I want your mouth, Rey.” He tilts up his chin a fraction, daring her to challenge him. “Right now.”

There is a moment that stretches, one that is reminiscent of so many days ago when he’d feared her rejection, a feeling that never really goes away, but just like then the look in her eyes turns to something warmer, darker— something she saves only for him. 

“Yes, Master,” she purrs quietly.

He tries to seem unaffected, as her little fingers work apart the leather of his pants—but inside he’s vibrating at the idea of her submission, here, in front of his Knights. Even knowing they wouldn’t dare look, wouldn’t chance even moving—the thrill is just as potent. 

His resolve fractures a tiny amount when she pulls him out, fingers light against his shaft as she holds his gaze. “I think you like it when I disobey,” she hums, pressing her thumb against his slit that is wet with anticipation. “I think you hope for it—knowing you’ll get to punish me.”

“You think I enjoy bearing your mischief?”

She leans in, flicking her tongue against the flared lip at the head of his cock. “Don’t you?”

“I would like it a lot more if you got on with it.”

He’s lying—to himself, to her, and she knows it. She knows he enjoys this. The way she pushes him, just as he does her. Pushes him to the edge of his breaking point, only to suspend him there in some sort of unimaginable pleasure at being allowed to mold her, wield her.

“Would you?” She flattens her tongue against his slit, lashes fluttering as her lips close lightly around his head to suckle softly. She releases him with a wet sound, and Kylo grips the arms of his throne a little tighter as her breath washes over him. “How will I learn if I don’t take my time to fully understand? Don’t you want me to learn my lesson”—her lips press to his shaft to murmur there—“Master?”

Kylo grits his teeth, hissing out a breath as she tongues the base, her fingers teasing his sac through the leather of his pants as she drags back up to the head.

His eyes roll back a little when her hot little mouth covers the entirety of his cockhead, her tongue flat against the heated flesh there as she hums around him. He thrusts up into her mouth suddenly, impatiently, and the little gag that sounds in surprise is like music, for what it does to him. His hand finds her hair as he presses down, watching intently as she sinks down to the base, lips stretched wide around this girth as the head slips into her cheek to bulge there. 

“So pretty like this,” he mutters, petting her head before he applies more pressure. “Lovely.” She swallows around him while his cock pushes deeper, the head slipping nearly into her throat as she makes a guttural sound in her chest. “But so powerful,” he croons, winding her loose tresses through his fingers. “You could kill me, if you wanted.” She looks up at him with fire in her eyes as she draws back up, lips tight around his cock as he watches with his own hooded gaze. “But you won’t do that, will you.” He thrusts up to sink back into her mouth, a strained sound tearing out of him. “Because no one else knows you like I do,” he breathes. “Do they. No one else deserves to touch you. No one understands you.” His teeth gnash as she takes him all the way to the base, and a rush of air escapes him. “But I do.”

She moans against his cock, and he fists her hair to hold her still, fucking her mouth now without pretense as saliva pools at the corners. He leans his head back, guiding her down his shaft and pulling her back to the tip only to do it all over—and she lets him, she takes him—she’s the only one who can.

There is something at the back of his awareness, prickly and irritating, and he snarls as he snaps his head, fury coursing through him directed at whatever would tear his focus away from the beautiful creature devoting her attention to his cock so thoroughly. 

He reaches out, clenching his fingers around air as choked sounds emit from the Knight posted near the entrance of the room. The Knight’s hands claw at his throat, feet lifting from the floor because how dare he even think it she is his no one else’s no one else will look at her this way—and with only a flick of Kylo’s wrist the Knight hurts towards the steel wall to crumple to the floor.

And Rey… Rey moans with it, only worsening Kylo’s devolving state. 

The fire builds inside, coursing pleasure and adrenaline because the way she takes him, the way she is his—Kylo only allows himself to be lost in this. Only allows himself to fully tumble down under the current when she is the swell. He is her master, he rules her, owns her—but so does she, he thinks. She owns every cell, every thought in his head, every breath in his lungs, and he would let her break him open, he would let her tear him apart.

She works with him now, taking him deep until every inch of him rests in her mouth and on her tongue and in her throat, and Kylo’s eyes screw shut as liquid heat licks deep in his abdomen, as pressure builds and builds and builds—jaw slack and breath ragged as she moves faster, harder—moving the Force around him and through him until every nerve ending is alight with pleasure, and he can feel the way she drips for it through their bond as if he’s catching it with his fingers, with his tongue.

And when it’s too much, when every muscle in his body is drawn tight, too tight—Kylo shudders through a release that is bright and pulsing—feeling the way he fills her up, the way his cum glides over her tongue and down her throat, Rey taking every drop he offers like it’s a gift. 

He’s breathless after, wanting nothing more than to carry her away and use her thoroughly until she’s gasping his name and nothing else—but for a moment he allows himself to simply enjoy the look of reverence in her eyes as she pulls away from his spent cock. 

There is a bit of him sliding from her lip to trail down her chin, and Kylo reaches lazily to collect it, using two fingers to push it back into her mouth, letting them rest against her tongue as she sucks softly. 

His voice is nothing more than a breathless shadow of what it was, already flitting through images he knows she can see, ones of him above and below her, her back arched and her mouth open as her needy cries float around them to fill the room. 

“Who owns you, Rey?”

She gives his fingers one last pull of her lips, letting them retreat before she flicks her tongue against the tips with a slow curl of her mouth. 

“You, Master,” she answers without any of her earlier defiance, knowing deep down she’s glad for it, just as glad as he. “Just you.”

Kylo smiles.

He needs nothing else.