The trembling of your fingers continued even after the hatch to your quarters slammed shut behind you. It continued as you stood, paralyzed, in the center of the room, lost. Though it had been Kylo Ren's saber that had burst through Dash's sternum, you couldn't help but feel it was you who'd activated the blade. That it was your hand twisting the plasma inside of his body--you who'd decided to extinguish the life in his eyes.

You inhaled as if your lungs were starved--and in some way, they were. The tightness in your chest was preventing any bit of oxygen from entering you. No matter how deeply you sucked in air, you remained chasing your relief. It was always another breath out of reach--and then another. And then another.

Sighing, you crawled onto your cot, twisting on top of the taut tarp of fabric to find a comfortable position. Of course, you didn't. You never did.

The wretched odor of burnt organs was still stuck to your palate, and every time you closed your lids you saw Dash's face, cemented in horrific pain, the shock of death still pulling at his brow, still wrinkling his nose. With concerted effort, you choked down the acid in your stomach.

News of a body turning up in the Command Shuttle with a fatal lightsaber wound wouldn't look good for you, either. What would have motivated Kylo Ren to kill your new boss, after all? The fear of being the source of a problem--a source that needed to be neutralized--hung like a corpse in the back of your mind.

A rush of noise--the hatch to your quarters opening--and your head snapped to the side, heart flying into your throat. They'd come for you already. They were going to take you to the docking bay and push you out of the--

Black. Nothing but black. Black boots, black robes, black gloves, black mask. It was Kylo Ren. In your quarters. Unannounced. The door shut behind him, and he stepped forward, air growing thicker in his presence.

You sat up, frowning. The red crackle of his saber glinting off of his mask was branded into your mind. "What do you want?"

"Do you care about him?" His tone was almost accusatory.

"What?" you replied. "No. What are you talking about?"

His fists flexed. "I can hear your thoughts."

Had his feelings been hurt? You glanced at the floor, then shifted, hanging your legs off of the edge of your cot. "You killed him, Kylo."

"He had his hands on your throat."

"He was no threat to you!" you said. "You didn't have to kill him." You crossed your arms, shuddering. "You didn't have to do any of it."

A pause. Kylo's hands went to his helmet, pulling it off and dropping it like a lead brick. His eyes were blazing, brow furrowed--he stepped toward you. "You would have preferred to die?"

Groaning, you dropped your chin to your chest. "No," you said. "I just wish you hadn't done that."

He scoffed. "Your concern for this creature is senseless."

Shooting to your feet, you aimed a glare into the bridge of his nose. "You know what's senseless? He was basically an unarmed noodle, compared to you. But you just--you just killed him." Your chin quivered. Bile burned your throat. "It's disgusting."

"Disgusting." His jaw was firm, mouth a thinning line. "He violates you. Hurts you." He tilted his head. "But you think I am the monster."

"You killed a man for no rea--"

"I saved you," he spat through clenched teeth.

You rolled your eyes. "What do you not understand about this, dude? It wasn't necessary!"

Kylo growled, stealing another step. "How do you know it wasn't necessary?" He was staring you down--but you weren't giving an inch.

"You're acting like the only options were to kill him or let it go!"

His gaze narrowed, fury roaring inside of it. "You don't understand," he snarled. "There were no other options."

You sneered, hands moving to your hips. "You know what--why do you care, anyway? You've made it clear how little you think of me. How little you think of my life or what happens to it."

He stared at you, silent, eye twitching.

"And, actually, I'm thinking, yeah, maybe I would have preferred to die. Maybe then I wouldn't have to deal with you constantly endangering my life to begin with!" When he didn't respond, you rolled your eyes again. "What's going to happen when they find out you killed my boss, Kylo? Did you think about that? Do you think about any-fucking-thing at all before you decide to make some mess that I have to clean up?"

Kylo's stare fell to the floor, limbs going rigid with rage. Not that it bothered you--you were advancing on him, your indignation an inferno, its flames feeding off of your fear, your rejection, your insecurity.

"You're a fucking selfish prick--and you always fucking have been. I don't know why I constantly delude myself into thinking that you'll actuallyshow me you care, one day." You shook your head. "No. If what you want is a fucktoy, you'll have to find another one. Maybe that scavenger."

Brown eyes, filled with black ire, met your gaze. "Ignorant girl."

You laughed--a short, bitter thing. "Man, you know what would change that? If you bothered to ever fucking talk to me!" You were inches from him now, breathing fire breath in his face. "You've done nothing but destroy my life since you've met me. And never a single apology." Your voice fell, dark and quiet. "I thought you were a monster because I meant it."

Kylo snapped, his fist slamming the wall behind him in a sharp smack--another dent you'd have to fix, somehow. He spoke, eyes drilling through you. "I'll let the next man finish the job, then." Before you could respond, he snatched his helmet, shoved it on his head and stormed into the hall, hatch closing behind him.

Heat exploded in your veins, and you whirled around, kicking your cot before hoisting it and launching it into the wall. It slammed the durasteel, collapsing flat onto the ground, and you screeched, seizing it and hurling it across the room, jaw tight as it smashed the wall. When it settled onto the floor with a stutter, you sighed, releasing the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

That fucking asshole. Of course you weren't upset that Dash had died. It was that Kylo had determined it was appropriate to kill him at all. And he seemed to think you needed to be grateful for it.

Grateful for what? For the deliberate distance he kept between you? For every emotional impasse where he'd left you stranded? For every dodged question, every time he'd made you feel lesser than dirt on his heels? No. He owed you more than a fucking body. Murder was no substitute for intimacy.

The irritation followed you past lights-out, past the hour when you should have been asleep (not that it mattered--you hadn't been planning on going to work the next day, anyway). And the longer you fought it off, the deeper it festered, until, despite yourself, you were pulling on clothes and plotting your route to Kylo Ren's quarters.

You hated that part of you, really--the part that shielded a flame of hope from every gust of his dismissal.

Anxiety flared in your belly when you tip-toed out past the threshold, your head spinning on a wheel. If you were stopped, you weren't sure what you'd say. What? My boss was killed? Weird. Nope, I had no idea. Oh, where am I going? Oh, y'know, off to speak with the guy who killed him. Uh, I mean...

But your paranoia had no basis in reality. Not a single stare lingered as you shuffled through the halls of the Finalizer, arms crossed, eyes glued to your feet. In your off-duty dress, you looked like another refugee--no one worth remembering, or even acknowledging. And you were just fine with that.

You weren't sure what you'd been expecting when you arrived at his quarters. Some resistance, maybe--but no. The door opened as if you'd commanded it, revealing once more the long, blue darkness of his hallway. You remembered the first time you'd visited him, and blushed as you recalled his shuffling stiffness, directing you to the guest room--so awkward. But thoughtful. And sincere.

An ache gripped your heart. The source of the flame.

Holding a steely breath, you crossed through the hatch, meandering through the hall. You'd been in his quarters for less than fifteen seconds and your palms were already clammy, your throat already caked with dread. But your determination was stronger. At least, you hoped it was.

You'd reached the end of the hall when he called your name, loud and demanding, making your nerves fly through your skin. Shuddering, you paused, but swallowed your hesitation, striding into his bedroom with your shoulders pinned back.

Kylo Ren was hunched over the edge of his bed, dressed only in his underclothes, elbows resting on his knees, the dying coals of his eyes trained straight on yours. The intensity of his stare halted you cold, and his gaze drifted to his feet, then back to you.

"What do you want?"

You bristled. "I could ask the same thing of you."

He paused, scanning your figure. "You're still angry with me."

"Well," you said, "unless you're ready to apologize, it'll stay that way."

"Apologize," he drawled, frowning. "Apologize for your own negligence?"

You reigned in your anger, folding your arms over your chest. "My own negligence?" you asked. "You, uh, wanna clarify that at all?"

Kylo's forehead was drawn tight, fingers furling. "The responsibility to inform a superior officer of your supervisor's actions lies with you alone."

"Oh, wow," you said. "First of all, not telling anyone doesn't make this my fucking fault, okay? Second of all, there wasn't anyone who would believe me after what happened with you, anyway! Hux would have pushed me into space!"

His jaw clenched. "You should have told me."

The peal of laughter you caught in your throat was nearly obscene. "Are you serious?"

Without a hint of sarcasm: "Yes."

"Kylo." You stepped toward him. "You told me that coming to you with my issues was juvenile and naive. Why the fuck would I want to tell youanything, after that?"

Your words were heavier than air, hanging over Kylo like a reluctant realization. But even with the weight of reality on his back, he was still wordless, inspecting his feet in thought. All of your fear left you in a long, steady exhale, and you dropped your hands to your sides.

"You said that I didn't understand." Pent-up emotion was still trembling your fingers. "But... I think that you're the one who doesn't understand."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't--" You sighed, wringing out your wrists before shaking your head and lowering your brow. "I'm tired, dude. I'm tired of being treated like this."

Kylo shifted, shoulders tensing. "You still should have told me."

"That's not my point--"

"You almost died," he mumbled, gaze flicking back to yours.

An exasperated breath escaped you. "That doesn't--"

"You almost died!" He sprung from the bed, chest heaving, eyes wide with half-hidden fear. "You--" He was scrambling to find the words, grimacing in frustration. "He almost killed you. You were screaming in my head." His knuckles were pale. "Screaming."

You swallowed, spit thicker than cotton. "Kylo--"

"I would kill him again." His voice was cold, freezing the breath in your lungs. "I would kill him one thousand times over."

"But I don't need a body from you," you replied. "I need... I need answers." The unconscious face of the scavenger flashed in your mind--and water welled in your eyes against your will. You dragged the words out through your chattering teeth. "I need you--I need you to show you care."

He blinked. "You're worried about her."

"Yes!" You threw your hands in the air, ignoring the trickle of tears down your face. "Of course! Of course I am!" You sniffled. "Ever since I heard you talk about her--but, but it's not just her, Kylo. It's everything. Everything." Crossing your arms, you turned away from him. "I can't play this game anymore."

A long pause--the only sound you could hear was the river of blood inside of your ears, the quiet thumping of your heartbeat in your temple. Your entire being quaked with vulnerability, fingers finding stability in your own flesh. Half of you anticipated him to just leave--the other half waiting for him to kick you out. Waiting for it to be over.

Instead, he spoke--your name a feather on his lips. "The scavenger is..." A pause. "She is responsible for what happened on Starkiller." Ice chilled your blood--she caused his scar. "She is a problem I need to remedy. Nothing more." You heard his soft steps behind you, his voice growing closer. "But you..."

Before you could think of anything to say, before you could even think to turn around, his hand, large and strong, gripped yours, spinning you to face him, pulling you against his broad chest. Your heart was beating out of your flesh, face flush with heat, brain emptied of anything but anxious static. His eyes, dark and deep and clear, chained you to the ground, holding you tighter than his hand ever could.

"You," he said again, "you are..."

Another palm cupped your cheek, holding you there, searching your face for what seemed like hours. A thumb brushed the wetness from under your lids, and then he drew you close, his lips grazing yours in a tentative, nervous kiss. Every function in your body stopped--and he kissed you again, bolder this time, pressing the soft fullness of his mouth against you. He pulled away, then, meeting your eyes, and the tenderness glowing in his gaze had you melting in his hand.

"Kylo..."

Before you could continue, his lips crushed yours, and you shut your lids, both of you sucking in breath through your noses as each of his hands wove through your hair. Your mouth parted in a soft groan, and his tongue slid between your teeth, lips working over yours like he needed to devour you. Your heart was flying, rocketed somewhere into another galaxy--and you grabbed his hair, coiling your fingers around the dark waves, returning his affection with equal fervor. He grunted into your mouth, spinning the both of you while he kept his lips locked on yours, walking you back until the bend of your knees hit the edge of his bed. His pace shifted--mouth moving deep and slow, digits stroking through your hair as he pulled you into his body.

Kylo swirled his tongue in your mouth, and then withdrew, a lone string of spittle linking your lips. Both of you speechless, near-motionless, lost for what to say or think or do. You felt his erection poking into your belly, and you clenched, reaching for the hem of your dress--but he stopped you, face solid as stone.

"No," he said. "Let me."

Scarlet sketched your cheeks, but you nodded, swallowing when he bunched the fabric in his fingers, lifting it up and off of you. You raised your arms, letting him complete his task, and he tossed it to the side, eyes consuming every new expanse of flesh exposed to him. You'd never tire of that--never tire of how he stared at your body, as if it was new every time, as if it was a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive. And under his stare, a waterfall of heat flooded you, only growing hotter as he reached behind you to release your bra.

Focused, he pushed it from your shoulders and shucked it down your arms, hands skimming over fresh gooseflesh before making it to your underwear. He stopped, glancing at you for a moment, before he kneeled in front of you, breath warm on your belly. Kylo hooked his thumbs under the rim of your panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.

A shiver scattered through your nerves, and he met your gaze again, his irises molten gold with hunger, not wavering a single second, even when he pulled off your shoes and flung your panties behind him. He rose, palms mapping the profile of every curve, until he was towering over you, and one hand cupped your face again, thumb tracing your lower lip.

"Lie back," he murmured.

His words had your fingers quivering, but you nodded, falling back onto the mattress, easing yourself toward the headboard so you could lie flat. Kylo paced around the perimeter of the bed, stare so scorching you were afraid your skin would catch flame. After a moment, he paused, pulling off his undershirt, his pants following suit, until he was just as naked as you were--and from this angle, the view made your cheeks water.

He loomed over the bed, his cock already thick and red and long. The sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.

But he said nothing, even as he moved toward the bed, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking for once like just a man, a man filled with devotion, passion and need.

"Kylo..." Fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Kylo, I--"

"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, little girl."

You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck, where he stopped, pulling back, forehead wrinkling in dismay.

"What?" you asked, heart hammering. "What is it?"

His fingertips floated over the darkening outline of Dash's hand, his jaw hardening. "Your neck."

"Oh," you replied. You had no clue what to say to that. "I--I'm sorry?"

Kylo's eye twitched. "No." He passed his thumb over your jaw. "I... No. No."

Without another word, he leaned in, caressing your throat with his warm mouth. You gasped, back arcing into him, and he purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on the forming bruise. He continued down, kissing your clavicle, sucking the skin into his mouth--not hard enough to break the vessels. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.

A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, gods..."

"Shh," he said again. "Relax, sweet thing."

This only made you want to writhe more. What did he just call you? Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.

"Sweet thing," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "So, so sweet..."

He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, fingers itching to run through his hair, skate over his scalp--but you didn't want to touch him. Not if he didn't want you to.

One of his hands circled your wrist and lead it to his head before returning to your hip, and your heart flipped, neck craning back while you buried your digits deep into his tresses. This evoked a groan into your breast, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the breadth of your thighs.