(A/N: I was serious when I said there was bloodplay. Seriously. DON'T READ THIS IF ANY USE OF BLOOD IN ANY WAY MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. That means you, 12-year-old whose friend dared them to read this.)

Walking to the medbay from the cafeteria took almost forty minutes--long enough to rethink a poor decision, you supposed. But a week of simmering had done you no good.

The rage in your belly had been feeding off of a dry kindling--your memories of Kylo Ren, on a loop inside of your mind, playing over and over and over, like a holodrama with no end. Every bit of your life was tainted with his presence--in the shower, you thought of water running in tiny rivers down his body. In the mess hall, you were reminded of how it felt to have three of his fingers curling inside of your cunt. And at night--oh, those were the worst ones.

At night, you didn't just think of his body looming over yours, the length of his cock sliding into you, the hard, furious thrusting before being filled with his cum. No, your brain was far more insidious, instead forcing you to remember the warmth of his broad chest, the safety of his strong arms, the smell of his hair and that look in his eyes--the one that'd been burned into the cracks of your skull.

Those were the memories that haunted you at night, behind your lids while you fought to sleep. And it was those same memories that stoked the fire, that left the foulest, most bitter taste on your tongue. Why had he done this to you? Claimed you as his, made you feel--... and then--

Get away from me.

So it had only taken one sideways glance from Sam to Minks as they debated their upcoming assignments for you to snap, slam down your food, and start your march to an uncertain outcome. You imagined they wondered where you were going, especially in your oversized off-duty dress (given to all female refugees--one-size-fits-none)--something you'd just said you wouldn't be caught dead in only minutes earlier.

During your journey, it became apparent just how many people on the Finalizer had nothing to do. The total number rescued was unknown to you--you just knew it was at the same time too many and too few, and that thankfully, none of the lost lives had name or a face you remembered. Even with their mass of resources, arranging appropriate assignments for every Starkiller refugee was taking time. More time than you wanted. To your surprise, though--you hadn't yet been kicked out of an airlock. Perhaps you might stay.

Yet all of that was background noise to your growing tangle of spite. Initially, it had been scrawled into the forefront of your thoughts. But now, it had consumed your headspace, the only thing you could think about or even wanted to think about was Kylo Ren, and every moment he'd driven you deeper into the miserable, fucked-up hole you called home.

There'd been so many of them, and they flashed through your mind like blinking light, dragging you through a field of pain when every memory brought along a tacked-on emotion you hadn't wanted to feel.

It couldn't end at get away from me. You wouldn't let it.

When you arrived at the doors to the medbay, you surprised yourself when you realized your confidence hadn't crumbled under the imposing pressure. Instead, you were somehow angrier, as if Kylo Ren were the sun, fueling you with rising heat the closer you came. The hatch flew open in front of you, and you held a breath, searching the beds. But he wasn't in one of the beds. The flitting in your heart grew wilder.

"Ma'am? Can I help you with something?"

You spun on the medic, flames shooting from your eyes. "Commander Ren," you said. "Important. Now."

The medic swallowed, nodded, and urged you to follow him, keeping his head bent to the floor. A tinge of guilt pricked you--you hadn't wanted to scare him, really. You'd just wanted to appear serious, to have your motives unquestioned. Perhaps, though, the fear would serve your purpose just as well.

Kylo Ren's room was private, located in the back of the ward, a wide berth from every other patient still in recovery. You imagined this was for more their collective benefit than for his own.

"Uh, right here, ma'am," said the medic, and bowed out before scurrying back to his post.

You stared at the hatch, trembling with a indiscernible mixture of fear and fury. Distantly, you were aware of your fingers folding in waves, an attempt to exorcise the excess energy coursing through your veins. But this practice hadn't worked at any point during the previous week--and it wasn't working now. You huffed frustrated air through your nose and charged through.

Kylo Ren looked more pathetic than you anticipated. He was laid out on the hospital bed, torso stripped of every bit of clothing. Black and blue and green spots mottled his abdomen, reaching inches past the healing wound on his side. There were a few more patched areas--his shoulders, his right arm, and of course, his face. His gorgeous face, now marred by a long, blistering scar. Staring at it, you swallowed--they'd done a decent job of shrinking it, but it still looked fresh. Painful. You wanted to touch it.

He gazed at you, blank. "My request was clear." The gravel in his voice sent a chill to your toes.

"You never listened to any of my requests," you said, stepping forward. The hatch finally shut behind you. "Why should I listen to any of yours?"

"I am your Commander," he replied through clenched teeth.

"And how commanding you look now, indeed," you said, sneering.

You came closer, scanning his body, admiring the collection of fresh scars on his torso. When you made it to the side of his bed, you noticed--below his waist, he was also naked, thin white sheets the only preservers of his dignity, draping lamely over the bulge of his soft cock.

Frowning, you looked back at him. "I can't believe you got me all wrapped up into feeling something for you."

He huffed, gaze drifting to the ceiling. "Those feelings were your choice, not mine."

"Choice or not, you fucked up my life."

"The path of your future is of no concern to me."

Your jaw dropped, gaze narrowing. "You're a real fucking asshole, you know that?"

Kylo regarded you with empty eyes. His silence turned your hands into fists, made your chin tremble with the pressure of your boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to just stare. Act like you were invisible to him. Like you were nothing--like you'd always been nothing. Because you hadn't been. And you weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, voice shaking.

He said nothing, still, gaze not drifting from yours. The void in his pupils was maddening. You couldn't even tell what he was thinking.

"Answer me, Ren." You wanted a reaction. Any reaction.

But he was mute.

Chest puffing, you growled, vision going black. "Fucking say something!"

It wasn't until you felt the sting of his skin on the back of your hand and saw the red streaks of blood over your knuckles that you realized you'd slapped him, splitting the scab on his cheek. But that hadn't been what shocked you--though it did play a part--no, what had shocked you was the quiet, wanton moan that left Kylo's lips, lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

Holy shit.

Something strange was swirling inside of you--something wicked. Something that was growing fat and greedy on the months of misery he'd caused you. Something that wanted to see that happen again.

So you gave in--you reeled back your hand and flung it hard across his cheek, scraping blood over his face with a sharp smack. Kylo groaned again, clutching at the sheets as his hips bucked into the air, his swelling length poking lewdly from under the fabric. You watched, fascinated, when he collapsed back onto the mattress, eyes opening and considering you with what you could only describe as desperation.

Between that look and the throbbing tent between his legs, the fiendish urge inside of you was growing darker, coalescing with another, more primal feeling. A feeling you knew as pure lust.

Your lips curled cruelly. "You like that, don't you?"

Kylo's stare drifted between you and his hardening cock, exhaling in defiance. "You'll have to try harder than that, little girl."

A shrug. "I mean, okay then. You asked for it."

Locking on to his gaze, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, exposing your panties while your dress rode up around your hips. Brown eyes lingered between your legs as you climbed over him, straddling his thighs, his eager cock twitching to touch your cunt. The view was intoxicating--Kylo Ren, so helpless. So vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat. Grinning, you dipped your hips so you skimmed the head of his dick, reveling in his full-body convulsion as a shaky breath left his lungs. He was still in pain. "Poor boy." You slid a hand down the curves of your flesh, guiding your fingers back and forth over your heat while you bit your lip. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Kylo smirked. "Do you think you can make me beg?"

Scowling, you lowered yourself onto his covered arousal. "Not only that," you said, and began dragging your hips back and forth. "I think I can make you scream."

He drew in a sharp breath, and you felt him pulse underneath you. "Not likely."

He was starting to piss you off again. "Don't tempt me, Ren." You raked your nails down the expanse of his chest, watching red welts rise over his rippling muscles.

Another breath. He wasn't giving in. "Look at this," he said. "Pitiful."

Jackass. "How's this for pitiful?" Snarling, you bent forward, dropping your weight as you pushed your hands into his stomach, pressing down onto his wound. His face twisted in pain while he jerked and grunted, blood leaking out from the wrapping. That was an accident. "Fuck!" Heart flipping, you began to lean back, but Kylo caught you by the wrist, holding you still.

Gazing at him, you expected to be met with anger, hatred, a promise of revenge. But there was something different about him. Something strange.

Behind the need clouding his irises, all you could see was a reluctant plea. You wondered what had happened between when you'd seen him with that scavenger and when he'd been dragged onto the shuttle. Because for whatever reason, he wanted this. He needed this. And you were more than happy to oblige.

"You're the pitiful one," you said, and planted your palms back on his stomach, starting to grind him again. The friction of his needy cock sliding along your covered slit made you clench. "Look how hard you are. You're pathetic."

Kylo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he moved you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I didn't say you could touch me," you said. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already anxious to be inside of you. But he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

You rolled your hips against his, the sensation forcing air from his lungs as his fists tightened, fighting the urge to grip and feel your flesh. The power was dizzying, intoxicating, a heady concoction when blended with your overwhelming desire and rage. More than anything, now, you needed him to suffer. To beg. To know exactly how he'd made you feel.

Grinning, you lifted a hand to your lips, leading your tongue up and down the length of your crimson fingers. Sharp copper lit up your palate, and you shivered. "Mmm... you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, coating your mouth with his blood. "Wanna try?"

Kylo was silent, eyes following your tongue while he wet his lower lip.

You wrapped your lips around one of your fingers, humming while you sucked it clean, pumping it slowly in and out, finally pulling out it out with a wet pop. "You'll have to ask if you want a taste."

His cheeks grew pink as he responded with the tiniest, most imperceptible nod. The veins in his forearms poked out from the stress in his fists.

"Oh, no." You dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood and painted your skin red before raising them back to your mouth. "You'll have to do much better than that."

A growl echoed in Kylo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he withdrew, averting your gaze.

"These hands of yours are getting awfully rude," you said. Searching the edges of the bed, you spotted restraints at the edges of the mattress, and grinned. "I think we need to do something about them."

You bound each hand to the mattress, and he watched you, lips parted, eyes black with hunger, throbbing below you when the tightness pinched his wrists. After you finished, you sucked your digits clean of the blood that hadn't already stained the bindings, rocking your hips on his erection, groaning as your clit grazed his length. His chin trembled as he halted a moan in his throat.

"Much better," you said, pressing into his wound again. He seethed in pain, muscles hardening as more red fluid spilled onto his abdomen, which you gathered with your fingers and held in front of you. "Now, if you want this, you'll have to ask for it nicely, okay?"

Kylo's jaw was tight, clasping helplessly at the air while he stared at your digits. You snickered, moving them back toward your lips, but were stopped by an invisible force--the Force--keeping you there with a barely-tangible strength. He drew in a breath, focusing hard on drawing your hand to his mouth, shaking with the effort.

"Asshole!" you barked, smacking the gash on his face. Kylo grunted and dropped his hold on you, growling. His impudence only spurred you on, and you smeared his blood over his face, leaning close to him, nose centimeters from his. "I wonder--do you think you deserve to taste it from my mouth?"

He blew angry air from his nose, brows pinched together. Shaking your head, you bent back, giggling.

"You ready to beg, yet, Ren?"

"No." His irises glimmered with mischief. He was enjoying this.

You smirked. So were you. "Fine." You looked between his stomach and his mouth before shrugging. "Then I'll make sure you won't get the chance."

The idea alone was making you ache with excitement, but, wanting to maintain your power, you kept your face and mind blank. You shifted above him, using his stomach for stability--earning another gasp and throb of his dick--while you stood, feet on either side of his thighs, wobbling when you reached your full height. Gazing into his eyes, you gathered the fabric of your dress to your waist, looping your thumbs around your panties. Biting your lip, you slowly rolled them down, and then back up again, teasing the view of your pussy you could see him longing for.

When you finally peeled them past your hips, he cracked, a moan escaping him as his cock tented the sheet above it. This by itself was enough to make you clench, your own need to get him inside of you beginning to burn. But you were ready to be patient. Carefully, you stepped out of your underwear and bunched it in your fist, sinking back down to straddle him. The rub of cloth on your clit and the heat of his length earned another clench from you--and you wondered if he could feel it through the sheet.

"Yes," he said, disgustingly smug, "and how wet you are, too..."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, jackass, that's enough."

Your palm went back to his wound, digits digging at the gauze while your other hand soaked your panties with his blood. Kylo had no time to react before you stuffed them into his mouth, dying his full lips a dark shade of red. He groaned into the wad of material, swallowing while his eyes dared to roll back into his head.

Leaning back, you took inventory of your handiwork. His wrists bound, red smattering his skin, cock erect, pink mouth suckling on your panties and his blood. Kylo Ren--Commander of the First Order, Force-user, Jedi Killer--completely and totally powerless before you. The sight of him flailing against the bonds, chest heaving, soft moans leaking through his gag led your hand between your legs to skim your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, "you look perfect like this."

Kylo's dick was still covered by the sheet, still crying for attention--and seeing him like this, you decided to grant that. You ripped the cover from his waist, cheeks watering at the sight of his cock--flushed, hard, pre-cum weeping from the slit--and he met your stare, begging you silently to touch him, to soothe the fire between his legs.

Your first instinct was to take it into your mouth, suck it until he was screaming into your underwear--but no, he didn't deserve the wet heat of your throat. Instead, you dipped your palm in the tiny, leftover puddle of blood, keeping his gaze as you drew a dark line up his shaft. At first contact, he cried, hips bucking into the air. Grinning, you dragged another line back down, your walls pulsing as he squirmed from just your finger.

This was payback. Your mind was busy with every bit of misery he'd caused you, bitterness at the distance he'd kept, unfettered wrath when you remembered the mess he'd made of your life. No job, no Sam, not even any fucking dignity. Yet he had the audacity to tell you: You get what you deserve.

Wrapping your digits around his cock, you slicked the shaft with his blood, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your first, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your pace. His dick was bright red, now, wet with the combination of pre-cum and hemoglobin.

"You're filthy," you said. "Getting off with your own blood. Is that how needy you are?"

Kylo moaned, still attempting to fuck into your hand.

"No." You gripped him tighter, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "You're even worse than that. Look at you. You'd let me do anything to you if it meant getting me to touch your cock. Wouldn't you?"

His lids were squeezed shut in pleasure as he panted into your underwear, pulsing under your fingers.

"You fucking disgust me," you growled, thumb circling through a thick drop of pre-cum. "You call me yours, then tell me fuck off, but this is what you want?" Your fist started to pound his cock. "You're always talking about what I deserve. Is this what you deserve, Ren?"

"Mmpf!" was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. He was close.

"You know what you didn't deserve?" you spat. "Me. Do you think you deserved me?" He was silent, and you snarled, tearing the panties from his mouth. "You never fucking deserved me, did you?" When he still failed to respond, you cracked him across the face, and he gasped. "Fucking answer me, Ren!"