"Wow."

Standing in the mirror, you regarded your neck and shoulders with the same horror one might regard a rotting tauntaun carcass. In less than a day, the landscape of your upper torso had been reduced to three colors: red, blue, and black. Hickeys were one thing--you'd had a couple before (though never this many, and never this severe), so you had experience with covering them up. But the ruddy outline of a hand that encircled your neck wasn't as easy to conceal. Neither was the crescent of teeth on your shoulder.

And yet, if those had been your only issues, you might have felt less inclined to launch yourself into space. No, the main problem was the fact that overnight, your legs had been replaced with rubber sticks, and someone had decided to shove what felt like a ball of spikes straight up your vagina. In your condition, simply walking was as great a task as anything that might await you at your assignment.

You weren't sure how you'd explain to Sam the sudden change that had overcome you. You imagined that the excuse of "Kylo Ren fucked my brains out" probably wouldn't go over well--if he even believed you. Like a dying lily, your heart flopped. Could you really look at the earnest, sweet face of Samuel Foster and lie straight to it?

As you waddled into work, a turtleneck under your uniform, Sam's brows came together in a hard line, and before you could blink, he was at your side, volunteering himself as your human crutch.

"Stars," he said, "what happened to you?"

Your scalp ached at the memory. "Just cramps," you replied. Turns out lying to him wasn't that hard, after all.

The look of disbelief lingered on his face. "Cramps? Really?" he said.

"Uh, yeah, cramps. You get them along with the monthly bleeding. You ever have 'em?" you said, sneering.

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "You're right. Jerk thing to say. My fault."

You patted his shoulder, a gentle ribbing of his own signature. "Don't worry, Foster. You're all right by me."

Guilt was strangling you. You decided right there--that was it. You had fucked Kylo Ren (you couldn't believe that was a thought you could think and have it be true), and it was out of your system now. It wouldn't happen again. It couldn't happen again--your body probably wouldn't be able to sustain another fucking like that, anyway.

"You sure you're able to work like this?" he asked.

"I'm on probation, dude. Won't look good for me to miss days during my punishment phase," you said. At least that wasn't a lie.

His lips twisted in a frown. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that." He glanced over you once more and then sat you down at the new diagnostic terminal--the pressure of the chair on your backside brought a crease to your browline. "Nothing but routine maintenance today. Maybe you could do me a favor and clear out all of the old orders?"

Despite his pleading smile, you sighed. "Really? I'm not incapacitated."

"I just saw you wince as you sat down!" he said. "You expect me to let you climb inside a runoff pipe? Come on now. Let me be a good boss!"

You rolled your eyes, pouting. "Fine, fine."

He peeked over his shoulder and planted a kiss on your forehead. "See, there are some benefits to being, uh, well, whatever-we-are with the boss."

It hadn't been a statement so much as a question. What were you? The warmth radiating through you was pounced on by another massive wave of guilt. Sam trusted you, liked you--and you returned those feelings. But the thought of committing to him without letting him know that you probably still had the Commander's cum inside of you mangled your guts. You needed a week--no, a month--without any part of Kylo Ren going inside of any part of you. Then you'd commit to Sam.

"You know, I still think you need to take me out on a date before we can be official," you said.

Sam grinned. "Ah ha--I knew I had missed a courting procedure. You're a high-maintenance gal, you know that?" He winked, turning your cheeks crimson.

"You got me," you said, giggling. "But seriously--I think we should wait for me to get off of probation before doing... anything. You know?" That would be almost a month.

"Yeah, you're right," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

"After all, I wouldn't want to get in the way of you and General Hux." You puckered your lips and wrinkled your face, doing your best uptight-ginger impression. "Foster, I've never seen an engineer more skilled than you, you're incredible, would, would you--would you mind if I sucked your dick, Foster?"

"Ugh!" he said, giving you a playful shove. He was smiling despite himself. "You're nasty."

Neck hairs stiffened as you remembered screaming Kylo Ren's name. "Yup. That's me."

He smirked. "You think Hux is weird toward me, what about you and Commander Ren?"

Somehow, your own saliva had lodged itself in your esophagus, and you choked on it. "Wh-what do you mean, me and C-commander Ren?" you said. Was he just playing with you this entire time?

"Come on, you know what I mean!" he replied, and put his hands over his mouth to simulate Ren's voice, shouting your last name. "Even though I'm the one ruining these machines, nothing you do is ever good enough for me!"

"Ugh, I know, right?" you said, smiling. Well--not nothing. "Ah, well. Sometimes you're the scapegoat."

Sam shook his head in commiseration, as if he'd ever been the scapegoat once in his life. "Well, Ms. Scapegoat, let's get to work." He rubbed your back before heading off to one of the ships.

Another sigh escaped your chest, relieving the built-up tension that you hadn't noticed until Sam had left your sight. You could do this for another month--right? Easy-peasy. As long as you were working under Sam, you weren't going to be messing with the Command Shuttle, so, really, you probably wouldn't even see Kylo Ren for the rest of your probation.

The memory of his eyes raking over you--irises golden brown, sparked with the embers of lust--sent an anxious chill through your bones. You groaned, planting your face in your hands. The day seemed to be getting longer and longer.

By the time your shift was up, your brain had ran through last night's scene enough times to brand it into your neurons. You were thankful that the only person on base able to read your thoughts was also the only person in the room with you last night--at the same time, you resented that he might know you were thinking about him at all.

A day of sitting at a screen had your leg shaking like an unstable hyperdrive--when the clock indicated it was time to leave, you sprung from your chair, wobbling on your legs only two times before you steadied yourself. While you predicted you'd still need a day or two of reduced load to fix your apparently bruised birth canal, the passing time had enabled you to walk in a way that almost looked normal. You shuffled over to Sam, who was chest-deep in an engine block.

"Hey," you said, wiping the pain from your face. "It's quitting time, dude."

He popped out from the partition, eyebrows raised. "Already? Wow! Time flies when you're having fun, huh?"

You looked at him with an expression that couldn't be duller if he had decided to lecture you, instead. "Yeah, man. I just had a blast."

"Aww," he said, grabbing a rag and wiping the space goop from his hands. "Come on now, it wasn't that bad."

"Next time, you can clear out the cache then," you replied, crossing your arms.

Sam shut the door to the engine and sidled up next to you. "All right, all right. Let's go, Captain Crankypants. You need some food." He flashed a wide grin. "In fact, you know what, let's consider this our date. Uh, friend-date, that is. Obviously."

"A dinner date at a cafeteria?" you said. "Such a romantic."

He batted his eyelashes dramatically. "Oh, I know."

You nudged him, hiding a smile. "Dork."

Though you didn't hold hands on the way to dinner, you could feel it--the blooming affection between you, its vines weaving a tether between your bodies. There was no way you wanted to screw this up.

As you turned the corner into the mess hall, your eyes went like magnets to the serving line where Kylo had fingerbanged you. Flames licked at your cheeks as you imagined telling Sam of your exploits: Yes, dear, this is where he shoved three fingers up my pussy and had me cum in his hand like a trained fuckslave. Oh, and didn't I tell you about the Command Shuttle? Well--

"You gonna sit, or what?" Sam asked, holding a meal out to you.

"Oh!" you said, hoping the prickle in your face would die down. "Sorry, sorry." You took the food and grabbed a seat across from him--he had gotten the nameless mush you tolerated the most. Thoughtful.

"You, uh, you okay?" he said. "You want something else? I can go grab--"

"No, no!" you said, beginning to work on the food. "Just cramps again." You supposed in some way, it wasn't entirely a lie--Kylo Ren was most certainly a pain in your side.

He grimaced. "Dang. I'm sorry."

You flapped your hands in the air, shooing the subject out of the room. "Don't worry about it." You took a bite of the mush--somehow, it tasted better, sitting across from him. "You know, it hasn't been too bad. Training under you, I mean."

"Glad you think so," he replied, sighing. "You don't deserve to be training under me for an entire month. There's plenty of stuff you could be teaching me, after all."

"Nah," you said, blushing.

Sam rolled his eyes and covered his mouth again, his hands an impromptu resonance catcher. "One of these days, you'll learn to take a compliment from me--or else!"

His imitation of Kylo Ren's voice was pretty spot on--you couldn't help the peal of laughter it elicited. You scrunched up your face again. "Foster, when will you learn that you're simply the greatest engineer there is? Quit denying my love for you, and that's an order!"

Maybe it was the stress of a long day, but the both of you erupted into a fit, giggling until tears were beading at the corners of your eyes. You were wheezing, fighting to catch your breath, but Sam would lock eyes with you and it would start over again. The few others seated in the room were stealing irritated glances as you both struggled to calm down.

"Ohh," you said, finally finding a foundation to balance on. "Oh, wow. Whew."

Sam shook his head, wiping his eyes. "Hey, not to play into the joke, but, you wanna come with me to the command center after we finish? I have to deliver the maintenance report to Hux. Guerrin's too lazy."

"T-the command center?" you said. The smart thing to do would be to bow out, head back to your room, and meditate under a cold shower for the rest of the night. But you were having so much fun--and you'd be with Sam. What would be the worst that could happen? "Y-yeah. Okay. I'll go."

He nodded. "Cool."

The two of you finished your meal, disposed of the waste, and headed to the command center. Reminders of the night before continued to hinder your stride, but the pain was fading into the background--as if your body had lived with it enough, and was deciding to move on from the ordeal.

As you arrived at the hatch of the command center, you were prepared for the sass of the two Stormtroopers standing guard. Instead, they nodded and stepped aside as the hatch parted.

"Nice to see you again, Foster," one of them said.

"You, too," he replied, shooting them the signature Samuel Foster smile.

As you cleared the entrance, you cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "What?"

A protest had already started form, but you didn't get a chance to finish your sentence. The door to Hux's office opened and a whirlwind of black stormed through--causing the officers in the center to shrink in their seats.

Hux wasn't far behind, shouting out through his door, "Snoke will give you the same answer I did, Ren!"

"Then let him," Kylo Ren replied, halfway through the room before he spotted you. All at once, the blood in your arteries evaporated into space dust.

"Foster!" Hux said, having spotted his favorite person in the room, as well. "Report."

"Yes, sir!" Sam said. "I'll be just a second," he said, winking at you. "Don't let Commander Ren give you too much of a hard time."

Oh, no. Why couldn't you go with him? "Let me come with you!" you said, hoping the smile on your face didn't look as fake as it felt.

"Come, Foster--alone," Hux said, as if he'd heard you. Ginger bastard.

Sam crossed the room to the General's office, the door zooming shut behind him. Like a game of Musical Men, now Kylo was closing in on you--you couldn't tell if he had been using the Force, or if you had transformed into a statue on your own.

"In my memory, we've discussed this," he said. You could feel the glare behind his mask.

"Discussed what, Commander?" you replied, cocking your head so as to feign ignorance.

"Your relationship with your supervisor."

Well, he was asking for this one. "Which supervisor would that be, sir?"

His hands curled into fists, and he glanced at Hux's office. "Him."

"Sam?" you said, exaggerating a jaw drop. "Well, sir, I can assure you, there's nothing inappropriate going on. I would never dream of having an inappropriate relationship with a superior officer." You paused, narrowing your eyes. "However, I can't guarantee that the situation won't change once my probation period is over. Sir."

It was nearly tangible--the boiling cauldron of his anger, bubbles frothing at the lips of the pot. When you were sure he was about to spill over into the fire, something removed the flame, and he cooled. "I'm sure."

Hux's door opened, and Sam strutted out, as jovial as ever. His face fell as he noticed your eyes, the desperation in them, and he strode over. Kylo Ren was staring at him. Meanwhile, your dinner was burbling in your throat, ready to spew onto the both of them.

"Commander Ren," Sam said, bowing his head in respect. Dammit, why did he have to be so charming? "To what do we owe your presence?"

"My shuttle is without an engineer," he said, as if that explained everything ever.

Sam shrugged, nodding. "Yes, sir, that is true."

Kylo Ren turned to you. "Why is that?"

You opened your mouth to answer--but instead of words, the only noise you could make was a restrained squeak as you doubled over, gripping your knees. From between your legs, a divine pleasure was growing, emanating from your clit, which was being massaged by what anyone else would define as thin air. You gasped. That fucking dickhead.

"Excuse her, sir," Sam said, draping your arm over his shoulders. "She's feeling ill, today. We should get going."

"Perhaps you should," Kylo Ren replied, his amusement imperceptible to anyone but you. Like a human flourish, he was gone, and the Force-hold on your clit disseminated.

"Fuuuuck," you groaned. Did you even have the energy to rub one out?

"Let's go, Stubborn Sally," said Sam, assisting your hobble down the hall.

You huffed. "Your nicknames are too much today, dude."

Once at your quarters, Sam kissed you goodnight (on the cheek) and you made good on your earlier idea. A cold shower was exactly what you needed. Masturbating over Kylo Ren was not an option--you couldn't let him have that power over you anymore. Even still, as you padded from the bathroom to your bed, the ghosts of your bodies--sweating, moaning, moving--blinked in front of your eyes. When would that stop?

Limping into work the next day, you saw Guerrin waiting with Sam at the diagnostic terminal, and your heart petrified. Guerrin was never seen in your area. The possibilities were unpleasant snippets of thought--were you fired? Was Sam fired? Was there another accident? Did the Command Shuttle blow up? No, no--you would never be that lucky. You joined the two men, arms folded over your chest as your eyes darted between them. Nobody spoke for a few agonizing seconds.

The angles of Guerrin's face were drawn tighter than usual. "Now that both of you are here," he said, "I'm able to make it known: I'm being moved from Starkiller onto the Finalizer."

"What?" Sam said. "Just for a temporary assignment, right?"

"No," Guerrin said, tone dull. "It's permanent. Meaning that I need to appoint someone to fill my vacancy."

"Oh," you said. You were having trouble hearing him over the heartbeat in your ears.

"Foster," he said, face betraying no emotion, "I'm appointing you as Chief Engineer."

Sam's face was blank. He was dumbfounded. "Oh, wow, Mr. Guerrin," Sam said, "that's... that's an amazing honor. Thank you, so much, sir."

Guerrin turned to you now. "That means your probation period is over. You're back to the Command Shuttle."

Fragments of your vision were collapsing. Chief Engineer. Promotion. Command Shuttle. Permanent assignment. Time a waste. All a waste. Worthless work. Worthless you. Worthless. The faces of Guerrin and Sam swirled together, spinning in perpetual motion, as you remembered your conversation with Kylo Ren. Once my probation period is over. I'm sure. My shuttle is without an engineer. Once my probation period is over. Over. Over.

That bastard.