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Please do more Kylo Smut!! Maybe he gets jealous or something, you can add it to the “Who did this to you” fic if you want too but if you want to do it differently you can!

Hostile [3]

Kylo Ren x Fem!reader Word Count: 12.5k Warnings: SMUT! Slight exhibitionism, jealous and possessive behavior, blood, injury, strong language, a lil toxic behavior (oops), angst with comfort, established relationship, yucky male character Authors note: This is like a two month time jump from the last 'chapter' (see below). I took kickboxing for like two years and the language definitely came in handy here, so yay! Also, I hate Rix Thalos even though I made him up. I'm already plotting the next part... I always love hearing what you guys think! I didn't mean to make this over 12,000 words and I didn't mean to upload two smut fics in a row, but here we are. Enjoy.

Continued from... Unauthorized Contact [1] - Breaking Point [2]

The first time you saw Commander Rix Thalos, you understood exactly why everyone spoke about him the way they did.

You hadn’t planned to be in the training room this afternoon. You’d left your gloves behind the day before, looped over the back hook of the observation deck door. You came back for them just as the afternoon sparring rounds were starting.

The crowd tipped you off first. There were always some people around during drills, but this was way more than usual. You pushed through the doorway just in time to catch the low slap of bodies against the mat.

And there he was. Commander Rix Thalos. You heard his name whispered through nearly every corridor on the destroyer these last few days. Heard the rumors that he once led an entire mission alone with nothing but a knife and three days of rations. Stories that he defected from the Resistance and brought half their intelligence archive with him. Even Hux adored him. The junior officers swooned. Half the staff threw their hands up to volunteer when they heard his name on the rotation.

His too-tight combat shirt clung to his back in all the right places, sweat darkened it at the base of his throat. His movements were liquid and clean. Every step premeditated, every dodge designed to show off how much control he had over his body. Pivoted fast. Sharp elbows. Narrow frame. Balanced like a dancer. He fought like he knew people were watching.

And oh, were they watching.

A pair of ensigns leaned on the back wall, whispering loudly behind their gloves. A lieutenant, one of the quieter ones you knew, was biting his thumbnail and blatantly tracking every shift of Thalos’s weight. Someone near the lockers exhaled with a gulp, starry eyed when he threw his opponent across the mat and followed with a quick, clean pin. Even the staff commander assigned to oversee the drills was distracted by him, datapad idle in her hands.

And to be fair, he was good. You couldn’t deny that. Eyes sharp. Skills, very sharp. Impressive and natural. Handsome in the most obvious of ways.

But my gods, did he love the attention.

You saw it so clearly—how his eyes kept flicking up to the observation deck when the applause started, lifting his jaw just enough for the sweat on his temple to catch the overhead lights. A little calculated smile.

Then, his gaze locked on you. Very direct and holding it a second too long before dropping his hand to the edge of his wrap, giving you a wink. He didn’t even try to be subtle with it. It was meant to land like a challenge.

Without even meaning to your arms folding a little tighter.

Kylo would've hated this.

You thought back to how he trained you. No crowd, no announcement written on the reservation schedule. No need to show anything off because he didn’t need to prove himself. He just was. He just was silent, but exacting. Power to him wasn’t about who was watching, it was about what he could do with it.

Rix Thalos wasn’t like him at all. Not from the few minutes you saw.

You only watched for a minute longer with your gloves fiddling in your hands before you turned and walked away. But you could hear the whispers following you out.

You didn’t tell Kylo about it, you didn’t even get a chance to see him that night if you wanted to bring it up. Lord knows word gets around quickly enough on this ship, anyway. If he was going to hear about it, he'd hear about it.

The thought crossed your mind that people were just too scared to bring it to his attention, especially this particular piece of gossip. A scandalous wink. Maybe even Hux hadn’t found a smirk clever enough to weaponize it and get under his skin.

Still, you’d made plans to meet later that next day.

You were pulled into a last-minute field simulation to prepare rotation rosters. New duties as a lieutenant. He said he’d be at his quarters late, you told him you’d stop by when you were done.

You had no idea your name would come up at his mission table, though.

The briefing room was full by the time he walked in. Hux stood near the data-table, hands folded behind his back with that familiar smugness he always wore during deployment talks. A few officers had taken seats early, boots neat, postures upright. Their attention shifted as Kylo entered. He didn’t sit. Usually didn’t during these meetings.

A star chart flickered to life across the center table, a red pulse highlighting three coordinates across a narrow planetary cluster.

“Commander Thalos has returned from Midok,” Hux began. “He’s recovered intel regarding an encrypted Resistance supply cache. One that we will be intercepting by the end of the week.” The map rotated and zoomed in on a moon marked by rough atmosphere, jagged canyons, and scattered tech fields. An old listing post was pulsing faintly in the projection. “Small team infiltration only. Larger transports will compromise our radar signature. Commander Thalos’s recovered ship is perfect for the approach, but won’t fit many. We’ll be deploying three to five,” Hux tapped through personnel logs. “Thalos will lead unit one. He’ll need a second. Someone familiar with tactical systems, field ready, and command-cleared.”

“I’ve submitted a name for consideration.” Rix said, tone too casual. Sitting with an elbow hooked over the backrest, a permanent smoulder set in the corners of his mouth. “I reviewed the rosters. Your new lieutenant,” he nods his head at Kylo. “She’s quick. Field adaptable. She’ll do.” He smiled a little, leaning forward, elbows on the table now. “I watched her spar a few days ago. Her form is excellent. Far surpasses the other officers she’s in there with. Strong pivot drive. Controlled hips.” He paused for a second, looking up at Kylo. “Very agile.”

A few officers shifted in their seats, the faintest glances between them at the tone Thalos decided to use to describe you.

Kylo shifted his stance, sucking on his teeth before he spoke. “Consider Lieutenant Kallon. He is cleared for active field duty. He’s qualified, experienced.” He said, trying his best to sound neutral and logical. “I’d recommend pairing her under Tannar’s unit instead. She’s trained under him before.”

He knew it was wrong. He knew the second it left his mouth it wasn’t about tactics. He shouldn’t be suggesting you not be considered for this mission, because you were very much qualified. It was about something else. About the way he could already imagine the cramped ship interior and his shoulder brushing yours, imagining Rix saying your name like it was natural. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

Rix didn’t hide his amusement. “Not sure Kallon has the right combat tempo for this terrain.” He said in fake politeness. “Besides, you’ve been running… personal reviews with her, haven't you? I wouldn’t recommend someone you hadn’t tested yourself, Commander Kylo Ren.”

Kylo’s jaw tensed. “She’s capable. But she hasn’t led in terrain like this. I’m recommending a more veteran officer.”

Hux turns toward Kylo, smiling like a cat. “How interesting,” he said. “Is it lack of experience you’re concerned with, or something else?”

Kylo took in a quiet breath, biting the inside of his cheek as he stared at Thallos. “No.” He corrected, flat and sharp. “She’s qualified.”

“Well then,” Hux said, smirk widening, hands clasping neatly behind his back. “Settled.”

Rix gave a small, gracious nod. “Appreciate it.” And then—because of course he did– he added with a wink, “Very much looking forward to working with her.”

No one laughed. No one moved.

The star chart kept flickering in the center of the room, highlighting the outpost again, pulsing red over and over. Like something was about to be detonated.

You didn’t know any of that.

You only knew that your boots felt lighter leaving the sim room, that the datapad in your hand showed the words ‘confirmed command placement’ for a new mission, and that your mouth hadn’t stopped trying to stretch into a grin since the moment it uploaded.

This mission is one that mattered. You’re not a background role or a disposable officer for a disposable unit where they need all hands on deck. This is a field command assignment. Your name next to Rix Thalos on a deployment sheet. A second in command. You didn’t even know you were being considered… you hadn’t submitted yourself, hadn’t tried to angle for it. They picked you.

Your palms still smelled faintly of synthetic steel dust from the sim controls. You hadn’t even changed yet, too wired to care or even remember. The ship corridor was empty at this hour, that pocket of time where the lower halls went dim and most personnel called it a night.

His quarters weren’t far. You tapped in your clearance code and the door clicked open. It was quiet inside, but you spotted him near the small basin, ungloved hands bracing the edge of it, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He didn’t look up when you entered. He always knew when it was you.

“Hey,” you breathed out, breath catching just slightly at the tail end of your excitement. “Sorry I’m late. Sim ran long. We had to redo the whole south-side layout after a network reroute.”

He didn’t turn, just gave a slight tilt of his head backward toward you.

“I got something.” You added, smile clear in your voice. You set your datapad down with more ceremony than necessary. “I—okay, don't laugh, but I might've jumped a little when I saw it.” He still hadn’t said anything, which wasn't entirely unusual, so you pressed on. “Second in command.” You said, practically glowing. “Actual field unit. We’re headed toward the Volden moon. There’s an old resistance cache buried out there, something Thalos pulled from Midok. High risk, but still, it’s a real one.”

Still, nothing from Kylo. You didn't seem to notice, though.

“I didn't even know my name was being considered. I didn’t have to ask for it. It just… showed up! I guess he picked me. Rix Thalos must’ve seen me training.” You exhale a little, giddy beyond anything he had ever seen from you. “And he’s good, by the way. Like, actually good. I saw him in the training wing earlier and, I mean, I get it now. The way people talk about him. It’s not just talk. He’s fast, and clean, and he doesn’t even look like he’s trying. It’s actually kind of crazy. And I guess he knows it, which—whatever, I hate that—but, still. He’s kind of a big deal.”

No answer. Not even a faint sound of agreement. Not even a breath.

“He winked at me.” You said with a small laugh, almost like an afterthought. “Gods, I almost forgot that part. He winked at me. Like it was part of his little show.”

That’s when he finally turned. You weren’t expecting it. His face wasn’t telling his thoughts, but his whole energy was. You could feel the way the air shifted, like the pressure had dropped without warning.

“Ky,” Your smile faltered. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

His eyes lingered on the datapad, still showing your name and his together on the mission log. Unit one—confirmed.

“Of course I am.” He said, finally. But his voice didn't match the words. His tone was sanded down, low, and careful. He was trying not to let something else slip out with it.

And just with that, you caught up. You could read his face better than he even knew.

You blinked and then let your mouth curl slowly. Sweet at first, but then knowing. “...Wait…” You cocked your head at him like he was some sort of adorable animal. “Oh my god.”

Kylo didn’t answer, he just stared at you. That stillness was locked in his posture, like a wire pulled tight.

Your grin widened like it had a mind of its own, very delighted. “Awww,” you teased, “Are you—are you jealous?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.” You repeated, sing-song under your breath, stepping toward him with a dangerous amusement dancing in your chest. “You’re jealous of Commander Rix Thalos.”

“I’m not jealous of him.” He said, but his eyes gave him away. “That smug, preening, cocky—”

“Oooh, my god, you totally are!” You broke into a laugh, arms wrapping around his neck without warning. “Kylo Ren,” You breathed against his shoulder, feigning heartbreak in your tone, “jealous of a man who wears six of his medals just to go get lunch.”

He threw his hands to his sides as you hung off his neck. “I’m not jealous.” He growled again, whiny and unconvincing.

You cupped his cheek dramatically. “You should’ve seen your face when I said he winked at me. You looked like you were ready to throw a punch through your wall.” He didn’t answer, just stood there and let you press up against him like this wasn’t the most ridiculous bit you’ve ever pulled. Your voice dropped to a purr and whispered mockingly. “It’s okay, baby, I get it. He’s charming. Capable. Everyone wants him.”

His fingers finally grabbed your waist, a small twitch at his nostril.

You smiled wider. “But I don’t.”

That made his hand finally slide around your hip, gripping a little harshly. The other pressed you to him by your lower back.

“I’m already with someone.” You whispered it like it was a secret. “Someone who doesn’t need to show off to be terrifying.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the apple of his cheek. “One who trains in private and fights like he’s thinking two steps ahead.” His breathing changed, you felt it. And you whispered into his jaw, “I have someone no one else gets to touch.” Pressed a kiss. “Just me.”

And then you kissed him fully, deeply. The kind of kiss that told him how much you wanted him, how much you meant it. You nipped at his lip, sighing into his mouth as his grip on you tightened, closer, hands roaming.

But you pulled back with a wicked grin, a glint in your eye he wouldn’t forget any time soon. “And I’m starving.” You said sweetly, brushing a strand away from his face like nothing had happened at all. “Did you eat already? Do you have any rations from the last rotation? Those were good.”

You walked away from him before he could answer, heading toward the small cabinet by the wall, opening it like it was your own kitchen. You stretched on your tippy-toes, scanning the top shelf.

He just stood there, watching you move around his space like you’d always belonged in it. His fingers were loose at his sides, pulse thudding high in his chest. Not from jealousy or possessiveness or control. It was something he wasn’t ready to name yet.

You were the only one who wasn’t scared to talk to him like that. The only one who teased him, challenged him, crawled under his skin and made a home there.

It wasn’t annoying, it wasn’t stupid of you to do so… It felt… comforting.

Your voice rang from the cabinet. “If I have to eat one more freeze dried protein biscuit, I’m going to launch myself into space.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, and maybe that’s when he realized it.

You were in his space, barefoot, still in your uniform pants and tank top, stealing his food and tossing empty wrappers on the counter… and he never wanted anyone to stay so badly.

He wasn’t ever well-spoken in his feelings. Not for things like this. But he could show you.

He could show you in the dark quiet of that night. And he did.

The way his hands moved, rough and reckless at first, like he had spent all day thinking about this. The way his grip pulled your hips flush to his, how his mouth dragged down your neck, and lower, slower, erasing even the idea of anyone else ever having access to you. He had you pinned to the mattress with his weight, hips already grinding hard into yours through too many layers, sucking bruises into places no one else would ever see. Some where people would.

He didn't say much. He didn’t need to. You felt something change in how his hands manhandled your thighs open. He bent you forward with a hand on the back of your neck, forehead pressed to your spine, slipped inside of you and thrusted with careful precision. His hands held you from behind with a staggered breath, muttering things he probably hadn’t meant to say out loud. You remembered the scratch of his voice when you rocked back too hard and he let something slip between his teeth that sounded a lot like a confession, but your ears rang too loudly to catch the words.

Just skin, and breath, and the kind of intimacy that only came from trust.

You woke up before the lights did.

The overhead panels were still dim. You could feel the weight of him on your back. One long, solid line of warmth, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist, ankles tangled together.

But there was a soft beep from your datapad.

You sighed through sleep and carefully pried his arm away. It was a slow untangling as you slid yourself out from the curve of his chest, and you slung your legs over the edge of the bed as quietly as you could. He barely stirred behind you, just exhaled and shifted into the space you left.

You padded across the room in just your tank and underwear. You flicked the screen on to see the alert message.

THALOS, CMDR: 0600 HOURS. TRAINING REQUEST. PRIVATE SESSION. COMPATIBILITY REVIEW.

You snorted softly to yourself. Of course.

You crossed into the fresher and changed quickly into a set of black training gear you’d left here. Brushed your teeth, splashed water on your face, drank half a glass in one go. Every movement is like muscle memory now.

When you came out, Kylo was just starting to blink himself awake. Propped on one elbow, hair a wreck, sheets low on his hips, still bare chested.

“You’re up early,” He rasped, voice rough and sleepy.

You smirked as you fastened the last strap on your boot. “Didn’t want to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

He sat up, rubbing his face. “What time is it?”

“Fifteen ‘till six. I got a message from Thalos,” You said casually, grabbing your wrist guards. “Want’s to do a one-on-one training session this morning.”

That got his attention. His eyes opened fully now, like he just now realized you were fully geared up. “Alone?” He asked bluntly.

“Mhm.” You crossed the room and leaned down beside the bed to grab your watch. “Think so. He wants to see how compatible we are.” You strap it onto your wrist and look at his furrowed brow and flexed jaw. You smiled and crossed your arms. “Fighting-style wise.”

His eyes narrowed like that clarification did very little to calm him. And with a groan, he sat up fully and grabbed you by the waist.

His voice was still thick with sleep. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Compatibility training? That’s not—what does that even mean?” You grinned and let yourself be pulled forward slightly. “You’re either good enough to earn your rank, or you pick someone else.”

His legs were spread, broad shoulders against the headboard. His thumb brushed along the curve of your waist as you climbed over him, straddling his lap.

You brushed your finger along his jaw, pretending to think. “Mmm. Maybe he just wants to roll around with me a little. See if I squirm.”

Kylo stilled, his voice dropped lower. “I’m being serious.”

You pause at the shift of his tone. His hands held you in place, eyes locked with yours like he couldn’t find a way of saying something. The way he looked at you, like he knew something you didn’t.

You softened in that moment, but you still grinned at him. “I know you are.” You tugged your collar down with two fingers, just a centimeter was enough to reveal a bruise blooming faintly on the slope of your neck. “You were feeling mouthy last night.” You whispered. “I think he’ll get the message.”

His eyes glued to the mark, jaw going slack for a second.

You bent forward and kissed him. A little smug, a little possessive back.

“Stop worrying,” you murmured against his lips. “Sleep another hour.”

And just like that, you slid off his lap, adjusted your shirt, and tossed him one last look over your shoulder.

“Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

The training room was quiet when you stepped inside. No crowd this time, just the same sterile lights overhead and the matte texture of the sparring floor.

Commander Rix Thalos stood near the center of the floor, rolling his neck in slow ease in matching combat gear. Tight shirt, immaculately clean boots. His knuckles flexed as his wrist worked in loose circles.

He looked up with a smile as the door shut behind you. “Right on time. I like that.”

You gave a polite nod. “I’m reliable.”

He watched as you stepped toward the edge of the mat, eyes flickinging over your posture. “I thought it was strange. They don’t usually hand out promotions to first-year candidates. But I saw you spar the other day.” You stayed quiet at his words, pulling on your gloves as he watched. “You move well. Sharp form. Controlled stance. Clean rotations. Most people at your level are still two beats behind their own bodies.” He straightened, and you finally looked him in the eye. “You’re not.”

You nodded once, straight faced. “Thank you.”

He squinted with a smirk, like he wanted more from you than that. “I almost didn't submit your name, you know. I didn’t think you’d take the offer seriously.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I’m me.”

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows at him. “You thought I’d turn down a field command because of who was asking?”

He grins, unfazed at your stance. “Didn’t mean anything by it. I just know my name carries expectations.” Without waiting for a reply, he took backward steps onto the mat, loose and fluid, Like he’d practiced the move in a mirror.

He twisted his torso at the waist, arms lifting into a casual guard as he rolled one shoulder into a soft pop.

You didn’t say anything. Just stepped on the mat across from him. You sank into position with quiet precision, weight balanced, hands raised, all business.

He saw this like a game.

You saw something else entirely.

He rotated his wrist as he got into a lazy stance. “Are you always this serious in the mornings?”

You just lunged, heel sliding with a sharp pivot, momentum shifting fast as you aimed a clean shoulder check to his left flank. He caught it, barely, grunting as the blow forced him two steps back.

His brows lifted with a chuckle. “Damn. Alright.” He muttered, circling again, lighter on his feet now.

He moved with more precision this time, he even put half of his grin away. He adjusted, adapting to your speed. A few quick exchanges passed in silence. Your forearms clashing, his grip slipping past your elbow, your foot hooking under when he stepped just slightly too wide.

He laughed as he broke out of a hold. “Impressive.” He said, a bit winded.

You block the next jab, fluid and exact. “Do you recommend talking this much during combat?” You asked, not letting your focus slip.

“I like to keep things entertaining.” He half-lunged to psych you out. “Am I distracting you?”

You ducked under his arm and drove your shoulder into his ribs, earning a grunt and a hiss of air from his teeth. He recovered fast, twisting your arm with controlled strength, enough to break your stance.

He was better than you. Stronger, faster, more experienced. But that didn't matter. You didn’t pull your strikes, or hesitate to make lethal eye contact. You were here because you were qualified, and if he didn't know that before he damn well knew it now.

Once you lowered your center of gravity and reset, he rotated his neck with a slow roll. He was trying to catch his breath without showing it.

“No wonder Ren’s keeping you so close.” He said eventually. Your shoulders stiffened. “Was wondering where you picked up some of that footwork.” He smiled again, a little crooked this time. “Didn’t think he trained people hands-on.”

You didn’t break eye contact. You just feinted low, then pivoted hard off your back leg to throw him off balance. He blocked it clean, but you saw his eyes narrow, like he was clocking something else.

“That’s what this is, right?” He gestured to his own neck, looking at yours, right where Kylo had marked you. “You and him?” You were sweating, already flushed from the match. He didn’t stop. “Didn’t think he had it in him. The man barely speaks, didn’t figure he’d bite.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even drop your stance. “Yeah.” You said, calm as anything. “That’s from him.” You shifted your weight with quiet control. “It’s not the only one, either. I don’t mind the teeth.”

Rix’s brow lifted faintly at your bluntness. That cocky grin was trying to stay in place, but something behind it wavered.

“I see.” You could tell he wasn’t quite sure what to do with your tone. How you’re not the least bit sorry about it. “I didn’t pick you for that, by the way.” He added, hands slightly raised like it was meant to clear something up. “It’s not—I wouldn’t undermine your rank.”

Your brows pinched together and you finally broke your stance. “I didn’t say you were.” You stepped forward, out of position. “But while we’re clearing things up; if you picked me to flirt with, or boost your ego, pick someone else.” Your voice was steady, but with a sharper edge. You didn’t give him the space to say anything. “I wasn’t lobbying to be promoted. Nothing has been just handed to me, and I don’t want it if that’s what you’re trying to do.” You took another step forward, challenging him now. “I have no problem proving myself, but I’m not here to prove it to you.”

Rix held your gaze, and for a moment, he said nothing. You saw it in the twitch of his smirk—surprised. Not many people talk to him like that. Definitely not someone beneath his rank. His grin faded, not entirely, but it softened. Lost the smirk along with the posture. Just for a second before he let out a small breath through his nose.

“Okay.” He said, quieter than before, like he knew he was talking to someone that wasn’t just going to roll over and do as he says. “You don’t pull your punches. I respect that.” His tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as you backed into your position again, but he just nodded slightly, like he couldn’t help but say something else. “You know, I wasn't expecting you to be this good.” You just kept your focus, waited. “That’s on me.”

“Maybe you were paying attention to the wrong things before, Commander.”

His grin twitched, more curious than cocky this time. “You’re interesting, Lieutenant."

The hours added up faster than you expected.

What started as a few mission prep sessions turned into sparring every morning. A new ship briefing, or tactical drills, or crash site simulations. Rix liked to work hands-on, and once he got a taste of your fight patterns, he kept pulling you in closer, more frequently. Constantly circling you with that same sly confidence, quick to offer corrections in front of others, quicker to praise your form after takedowns.

“You’re faster than you look,” he said once, tossing you a towel after a mock recon. You just walked past him, but felt his eyes track you the whole way out.

You tried not to bring it up to Kylo at first. Part of you didn’t want to stir something that wasn’t really something yet. Another part of you secretly wanted to see what would happen if you did.

The first time you mentioned it, Kylo was sitting at the edge of his bed, tunic unfastened halfway down his chest, tired from whatever kind of day he had.

“Rix is… flirty.” You said it so casually, tugging your boots off by the bench. “Not harassing, but in like the ‘I always get what I want’ kind of way. You know the type.”

A small but visible flex in the muscle near his temple told you even that small amount of information made him angry. You didn’t want him angry. You just wanted to share, and maybe you wanted to shit-talk a superior a little.

“He touches you?”

“No. He knows better.”

And he did. That was true.

Given the need to appear professional… hanging Rix by his toenails wasn’t a real option. You and Kylo were under a watched eye by everyone on the destroyer, and fighting officers who disrespected you was one thing. Beating another commander to a pulp was another.

So he found an alternative. One you agreed with every night. Kylo let his mouth do the talking—teeth and hands and all the ways jealousy came out as possession, landing dark bruises on your neck so clearly you’d have to have rocks for brains not to notice.

“You like this.” He whispered under his breath, fingers digging into your hips. “You like that I hate it.”

Rix noticed, he told you by the way his gaze dropped to your neck and lingered. How he stopped calling you ‘Lieutenant’ during drills and started calling you something else entirely.

“Princess,” he muttered under his breath one day, watching the way your kick landed against a target droid. “Burns up anything in her path.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Suits you.” He said with a damn shrug, a damn smirk to match.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t have clearance to come up with nicknames for me, Commander.”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. But the name stuck like ash. He kept using it, and every time you snapped back, he gave you the same look. Entertained. Intrigued. Like he couldn’t help himself.

But, his hands never lingered too long. His words always had a technical escape route. And still, the compliments got bolder, the training more personal. Somewhere along the way, he wasn’t just testing you anymore, he was trying to win you.

Something in your silence must’ve read as a challenge. The more you shut him down, the more determined he seemed to become. And every time Kylo peeked at the reports and saw your name stamped with Rix’s overly-dramatic signature, the tension grew thicker.

His touch claimed you—sometimes, barely saying anything when you walked in. Just left you with weak knees and teeth marks on your inner thigh. And you were proud. Not just of being his, but of yourself. How far you’ve come. You earned this.

And if Rix wanted something he could never have, well, you were used to men like him learning the hard way.

Deployment came quicker than expected. The final day broke cold and quiet, just a final briefing before marching into a small ship with Rix and two stormtroopers behind you.

In the control room, Kylo stood stiff near the console. The only one not seated. Arms crossed, jaw tight, watching deployment markers blink to life on the holomap. His helmet was off, tracking every red-coded marker as if he might catch a flaw in the mission and shut it down on principle.

Beside him, Hux scrolled through live data. “They’re en route,” He said casually. “Our Commander Thalos seems quite fond of your Lieutenant."

No response from Ren, just a sharp breath he couldn't quite conceal without his helmet on.

“Live comms incoming,” said from somewhere in the room.

Static cracked through the overhead speaker. The voice that came through was clear and too familiar.

“Unit one, entering Volden's lower atmosphere now,” Rix reported.

Kylo could see the terrain shifting through bodycam feeds. Jagged ridges, the orange light from the nearest sun catching on patches of exposed metal. You moved fast, first one out, crouching behind an old supply grid with Rix and two troopers moving in formation behind you. You gave a signal and the squad advanced.

Then, your voice. “We’ve got movement. West grid, near the break in the perimeter.”

Kylo’s eyes stayed fixed when a few short bursts of blaster fire sounded. Just enough to make the control room get stressful. Kylo leaned forward slightly, his thumb twitched against the console edge.

“We’re fine.” Rix’s voice punctuated with a laugh. “Princess here took point before I even called it. She’s really gunning for another promotion.”

You answer through the static of the comms. “Don’t call me that.”

The silence in the control room was louder than the blasters. The entire room seemed to still mid-motion, eyes flickering very subtly toward the dark figure standing dead center.

The sharpness in Kylo’s stare was dialed up enough to make the tech nearest him reposition his chair without meaning to. A swallowed cough came from the corner.

Hux raised one brow and murmured with dry satisfaction. “Well. It seems your lieutenant has picked up a pet name.”

In the back of his mind, nothing was coherent. Just heat. A low building burn rising in his chest that had nothing to do with strategy. He knew Rix was pushing the limits with that name. That damn name.

“If he disregards her rank like that again, I will pull her from the field myself.” Kylo’s voice came low, but cut straight through the room.

A few heads dipped lower behind the terminals. The officer nearest the audio feed instinctively turned down the volume a notch.

Hux glanced sideways, smirk curling still. “Careful. Almost sounds personal.”

Kylo didn’t deny it, just concentrated on the screen. At your feed. Watched your silhouette dart through wreckage with grace, voice sharp with command as you gave orders. Rix followed close behind, blaster drawn, a step slower than you.

You paused at the end of a fractured support wall half-buried beneath a supply crate. Your body tilted low, knees bent, hand raised to signal.

Then, it happened.

A flicker, a faint rattle through comms, barely audible, until a boom cracked the transmission wide open. A white burst of static overtook the screen until it all went to black.

Kylo stepped forward as if he’d been shot himself.

“Reconnect.” His voice was louder, deeper. “Now.”

The room moved fast. Chairs scraped, lines flickered, your bodycam was offline, static screeched through speakers like a scream.

The techs scrambled to make heads or tails of it. One stammered. “It—it looks like a secondary charge. It was closest to the—”

He gripped the edge of the console, knuckles white. “Where is she?”

His mind was already far away from the control room. The thought was already crawling under his skin. He had felt loss before. He knew what it felt like when it happened—but if it was you. No final moment, no body, no closure.

She’s not dead. You’d feel it if she was.

He couldn’t breathe. He would take a ship right now, burn through every perimeter until he found you, what was left of you, because there is no way he was standing still if you weren’t breathing. No way he would stand here staring at a black screen.

“Sir!” A tech called. “Bodycam—Trooper HM18 coming online.”

A fresh feed blinked to life. Blurry at first, streaked in grey from a cracked lense, but through the shaking frame, you appeared, staggering on your hands and knees, coughing through smoke. Blood on your chest, but standing now. Your hand moved to it, looking at how the red stained your fingers. Rix was at your side, hauling you into cover, hands gripping your waist tightly. Kylo’s chest was heaving with relief. You were alive.

He exhaled too hard, hand bracing the console, eyes never leaving the screen.

He watched Rix say something, but the comms transmission was still down. You shook your head, though, brushed him off. Rix lead you somewhere and you both disappeared from the screen.

The comms feed buzzed once before they came back. “—-shouldn’t have been close to the junction.” Rix’s voice said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You coughed. “Just a superficial cut, I think.”

“Unit one, report.” A tech’s voice chimed in. “We lost you on both lines. What’s your status?”

“She’s hit. Shrapnel, nothing deep, looks like, but she’s bleeding. Probably eight inches across. She’s conscious and lucid.” Kylo’s eyes narrowed. “But our transport’s toast. We’ve got shelter in a service bunker now. Tight quarters, but sealed. There’s a med kit in here. We’ll hold ‘till evac tomorrow.”

“Sir,” another tech began to whisper to Kylo, nervous fingers hovering over the audio transmitter. “That’s not protocol. They should be evacuating—”

“We’re not moving.” Rix interrupted. “We’ll burn more energy trying to move her. She’s hurt, she needs treatment.”

Kylo's hand pressed down on the comms transmitter. “Abort the mission. I’ll dispatch another transport. Get her out of there, now.”

“She needs to lie flat, she’s already losing blood.” Rix snapped.

You cut in. “I’m fine—”

“You need this off.” Rix’s voice said again, low and close to the mic. A rustle of clothing.

“I can handle it.”

“It’s not a suggestion. Let me help.”

And then more rustling, followed by a distinct sound of a zipper being dragged down. Someone inhaled awkwardly. Kylo stood motionless, staring at the black screen like it had personally undressed you.

“I said I’ve got it.” You were trying to keep your voice level, but it was clear you were in pain. Losing blood.

A metallic click of a med-kit opening, then Rix in a hushed tone. “C’mon. Sit down.”

Footsteps, a grunt. You must've listened, because next came the unmistakable sound of cloth sliding over your skin, a soft, involuntary hiss of pain. Silence fell in the control room. Dead. Tense, airless. No one wanted to risk being the reason Kylo Ren moved.

Rix’s voice again, speaking to the technicians this time. “Laceration runs diagonally. High left abdomen to just past her navel. Clean tear, entry point’s narrow. You’re lucky it didn’t slice any deeper, princess—”

“—Leitenenat. And I’m fine.”

Another pause, sound of a wrapper being torn open. The room had gone dead silent again. Kylo's hands were still on the console, every joint locked tight, like if he moved a muscle he would go into a rage. There was a fresh vein pulsing in his neck.

Hux leaned in. “Facinanting bedside manner.”

Kylo’s head tilted slowly toward the cheshire grin of the general, and he would've scalped him if Rix’s voice hadn’t come through again. “We’ll reconvene contact in the morning. Battery’s draining fast, we’ll ration power ‘till then. Unless something happens, we’re shutting down comms now.”

“Don’t.” Kylo demanded. “I want that channel open.”

But all that came back was one last clipped reply: “I’ll keep her safe, Commander. Go get some sleep.”

And then click. The line went dead.

You sat back slowly against the cool alloy wall, the sting on your abdomen sharp under the gauze Rix had wrapped. The medkit lay open surrounded by bloodied wipes and a used bacta patch. It was cramped. Low ceiling, no windows, just a cot and reinforced durasteel.

Rix hadn’t said much after the final comm. He was reinforcing the outer blast door until he turned and sat on a crate, arms resting on his knees. Watching you closely.

You adjusted your shirt carefully, tugging it down the line of tape running across your side. The cut really was nothing. It just stung. You were fine.

“You didn't have to do that yourself.” He said, voice tired.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye. “I didn’t need your help.” Very matter of fact.

He smirked faintly, nodding once. There was a long pause as his eyes dropped. Not in a leering way, but still bold. He’s seen your entire torso, marked with bruises and teeth.

“You get those on a mission?” He asked casually, a playfulness behind it that you didn’t like. The answer was obvious, so you didn’t feel the need to actually respond. A sneer would do just fine. “I figured.” He added. “He really wants to send a message, huh?”

Your jaw tightened slightly, completely not in the mood to meet him with politeness. You kept your eyes on the far end of the bunker, no reaction. It was the best way to shut down men like him. Still, he didn’t seem offended by your silence.

“You’d think I’d take the hint.” He said after a moment, voice unusually candid. “The marks, the way you shut me down. I’ll admit, people in your position usually play along by now.” He met your gaze, an honesty you hadn’t seen in his eyes before. “I’m not ashamed to admit, I’m not used to being told no.”

You blinked at the self awareness, studied him for a moment before leaning in just a little. “I’m not an option. You and Kylo were never in competition. I don’t care how many people want you, you can go find one of them to impress, because I’m not interested, and I’m not available.”

Rix gave you a look, a nod that told you he finally understood, and it only took six days of constant rejection. “Loyalty’s rare these days.” He rubbed his jaw, admitting defeat, dropping the charm from his face. “He’s a very, very lucky man.”

You didn’t answer, just turned away and laid back against the bunker.

You heard him try and get comfortable against the wall, covering himself with a scrap of cloth he had gotten from the crate. You heard him shift once, twice, then go quiet.

Hours passed, and you must've dozed off at some point.

Then, footsteps. You were half-awake before the door seal even clicked. A fast override and you sat up quickly, Rix scrambling upright from his position on the floor, hand halfway to his weapon as it opened.

You saw the silhouette against the storm from the engine kicking up dust. Black gloves, black robe, a confident walk, wind billowing behind him. No helmet. His eyes locked on you already, inside before you could even take a breath.

You stood before he said anything. “Kylo.”

He scanned every inch of you. Cut, gauze, how you stood, shoulders dropping when he saw you upright. Breathing. The anger hadn’t left him, not entirely. Rix stepped forward. “She’s bandaged up—”

“I didn’t ask you.” Kylo’s voice was cutting, just icy. He didn’t even look up at him. He just looked at you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just a graze.” You nodded.

But he still didn’t move, didn’t look away. His hand lifted slowly, brushing your jaw with the barest touch, just a thumb beneath your chin, lifting it as his eyes scanned the dried blood near your temple. Something in his expression softened.

“I requested immediate deployment after the detonation. Command delayed until airspace stabilized. They grounded everything.” His fingers lingered for one second more than necessary before he let them fall, straightened out. “Let’s go.”

A ramp lowered, the engines much louder out here. His hand rested firm on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. He never once looked at Rix, not even to make sure he was following behind and onto the ship.

Rix did follow, but he didn’t speak either. Maybe he finally realized that this wasn’t politics. It wasn’t just a weird power-dynamic relationship. This was real. And it had never been more obvious.

On the shuttle back, silence reigned. No conversation, just the low whir of the ship. You sat across from Rix, next to Kylo. He had taken the seat beside you without hesitation, close, arms brushing when the ship tilted.

Rix didn’t say a word, but his eyes flickered between the two of you, lingering on the way Kylo was angling his body between you and the rest of the cabin, silently claiming you again.

The second the ship landed, the ramp opened to the controlled chaos of the destroyer hanger, wind dragging Kylo’s cape behind him in a long ripple as he walked off. Rix followed wordlessly and you stepped beside, hand brushing yours at every step, pulling at it only when you trailed behind.

There was a jagged gouge carved through the metal control panel. Lightsaber damage. Very recent. Rix slowed behind you two as it caught his eye, and you turned slightly to Kylo who kept walking like it wasn’t there at all.

He had thrown a tantrum.

He took you straight to the medbay. You sat on the exam table as the medic swept a scanner over your stomach.

“Clean patch.” She muttered, impressed. “He’s good at everything, that Rix Thalos, isn’t he?”

Kylo rolled his eyes without meaning to, looking down to the floor and muttering to himself. “Not everything.”

And you tried not to smile, really, you did. But one tugged at the corner of your mouth anyway.

You were disinfected and cleared for the debrief.

You reached the command room and stepped inside. The others were already there. Rix by the holotable, datapad in hand, a few other officers seated along the back row, Hux at the front by the main display.

You moved to your usual place near the front, next to Rix, but a loud screech of a metallic chair dragging across the floor shattered the silence. Every head turned, you froze halfway through sitting down. Kylo was pulling an empty chair directly between you and Rix. His hand gripped the backrest, scraping it two more inches until it blocked Rix’s line of sight.

Then he sat, arms folded, legs spread wide.

Behind a thick layer of embarrassment, the corner of your mouth twitched upwards despite your best efforts. You kept your jaw clenched and your gaze on the table to keep from laughing. Maybe to keep from strangling Kylo as well. Rix raised both eyebrows in amused disbelief, giving the tiniest shake of his head and mouthed a ‘wow’ under his breath.

Hux, meanwhile, lit up like it was his birthday. He clasped his hands behind his back, eyes glinting. “Remind me to invest in seating charts next time.”

You stared straight ahead, refusing to look at anyone. Your cheeks burned so hot they might’ve lit the table on fire. You shifted in your seat and clasped your hands. Kylo didn’t even pretend to be ashamed. He let his leg brush yours, and you didn’t need to look to see that his posture was more relaxed. Smug, even.

The debrief itself wasn’t anything you hadn’t already run through in your head. Rix recapped the attack, laid out the perimeter breach and pointed to the terrain where the explosion went off. He noted your maneuver to cover, and brought up the casualties. His tone stayed clipped and professional, and if there was any lingering awkwardness about the last 24 hours, it didn’t show in the way he spoke. You answered when prompted, eyes forward.

The entire time, Kylo was never mentioned. But he stayed seated right beside you, like he dared someone to mention anything about it.

And then, it was over.

Hux and Rix were the first to stand, falling into step with one another with low murmurs of logistics. You didn’t catch much. Your ears were still ringing from the scrape of metal on the floor from Kylo’s chair, his posture burning beside you. The others filed out quickly, half glancing your way and then very purposefully not looking again.

Once everyone was out, you turned to him. “Really?” You said quietly, leveling him with a look. “The chair?”

“It was in the wrong place.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You mean the one that was next to me? Like it always is?”

He rose from his seat, towering over you. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You scoff a little, looking up at him. “Is that your way of asking?”

“No.” His voice was lower. Firmer. “It’s not a request.”

You could feel it. How badly he needed you near. The tension hadn’t faded since the deployment.

Your arms folded in front of you, jaw tilted up as if you might still throw something. His face, controlled fury still resting in the line of his mouth and the stiff set of his shoulders was all you could lock your eyes on. His pulse was high, hands curled into half-fists, like he was holding back from dragging you out of there over his shoulder.

You let the silence stretch, just long enough to punish him for the little stunt he pulled in front of all your superiors. He could’ve just not been that dramatic about it.

“You know that was a little much, right?” You asked, voice low, stern like you were nagging him. You sighed and glanced toward the exit. “Everyone in here thinks we’re about to—”

“We are.” His eyes never left yours.

Heat rippled beneath your skin. Gods, he was serious. His tone was wrapped in fire, barely holding himself back. It was his version of begging, in a way. He was letting you know he couldn’t spend another moment without you in reach.

You tried to gather yourself—your mind, your pulse, your pride, at least—but you were slipping.

You cleared your throat. “So what, I just follow you like a good little soldier?”

“You follow me because you want to.”

And you did want to. But you shook your head as you stood up, turned on your heel, and walked toward the door. Maybe you swayed your hips. Maybe.

Either way, his hand gripped your waist as you stepped out into the hallway without hesitation. Every step you took, his hand stayed there. He was touchier than usual, and you knew exactly why. And you knew what it meant… you were in for it tonight.

And so what? You craved this shit. You craved how hard he worked to prove you were his. How just the thought of another man even speaking your name made him this crazy in front of everyone. You knew it wasn’t exactly healthy, jealousy rarely was, but it lit something in you. And it made you want him even more.

You were so far gone in your thoughts that you didn't even register the direction you were going in until he pulled you. A strong hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you into an adjacent corridor. You turned with a sharp breath as he shoved open a small debriefing room. One directly across from the glass-paneled one Hux and Rix stood in, locked in discussion.

You barely had time to breathe before your spine hit the wall. The door hadn’t even sealed shut behind you when Kylo pressed forward, forearms braced beside your head, the heat of his body trapping you there. He didn’t even speak at first, he just stared at you, chest heaving, pupils blown wide.

You opened your mouth. “What are y—”

“Look at him.” He growled.

“What?”

He didn’t ask again. He angled your jaw with two fingers for you, tilting your face toward the glass wall just across the corridor where Rix stood with his arms crossed, scanning something, completely oblivious to what was just across the hall from him.

“Do you know what he did to me?” His voice was low, wrecked, like these words have been building all day. “Hearing him say your name. Again, and again. Saying he’d keep you safe. Talking about your fucking body like he had the right to.”

You gasp as his hand slid under your jacket, across the curve of your waist. He nosed along your cheek, his breath dragging hot across your face. He didn't kiss you yet. That would be too easy.

“I should kill him. For even thinking about you that way. For imagining he had a chance. For trying to touch what's mine.”

“Rix is right there,” you whispered, lips brushing his jaw, slightly taunting. Soft, heady, too light to mean nothing.

His hand had been easing its way under your coat, and it stilled completely. “Don’t say his name,” he warned, tone darkening instantly. You had summoned something venomous. “Don’t put his name in your mouth while I’m touching you.”

You smiled like you liked the danger. Because you did.

“Why?” You murmured. “Does it sound sweet when I say it?”

His hand moved fast, dragging over your hip bones through fabric, pressing down hard enough to make your knees lock. You gasped, but his hand caught the sound, forcing you back against the wall. His other hand gripped your jaw and tilted your chin up so you couldn’t look away from him.

“You look at me.” He growled. You listened. Wide-eyed, breath stuck in your throat when his thumb caught the bottom row of your teeth. “You don’t say anyone’s name but mine. Say my name if you’re going to say anything at all.” Furious.

You wanted to mouth something smart, but he was already shifting, already curling his fingers beneath the waist of your pants. Before he did anything, he raised his gloved hand to your lips.

“Bite it.”

You blinked up, all hot and bothered, just the way he liked you. Your teeth found the leather. You pulled as he flexed his hand, glove slipping loose between your lips. He plucked it from your mouth and shoved it in again, stuffing the material back between your teeth.

“Hold it.” He demanded. “Be quiet.”

Then, his hand slipped down. He cupped you fully, fingers slicking between your folds without pause. You cried out against the glove, muffled, but loud enough he had to press his body tighter to yours, his other hand firm over your mouth.

“Shhh,” He whispered, lips grazing against your ear. “Be good for me. Be good, Princess.”

Your eyes fluttered at the word, even when his voice darkened around it, thick with something filthy and furious. His hand didn’t stop moving.

“Is that what he called you? Is that what he fucking called you?” He hissed, each word scraped from somewhere primal. His palm tightened over your mouth like he didn’t even want to hear your answer. Like the idea alone made him seethe. “Walking around this ship with my marks all over your body—and he thinks he can just call you that?” His teeth scraped your jaw, close to biting.

His hand left your mouth, fingers dragging the gloves from between your lips in a single pull. Then, it found your throat. He held it with a firm grip as he tilted your chin up, thumb under your jaw, palm spread across fading the hickeys he had placed there throughout the week.

“Say it. Princess. Say it.” He mouthed at your cheek, placing a sloppy kiss somewhere along the way. “Who do you belong to?”

Your lips only parted, breath ragged, pulse fluttering under his hand. His fingers flexed slightly.

“I need to hear it from your mouth. I need to hear you say it to me.” His gaze bore into yours, wild and full of something savage that made your knees weak.

His hand stilled. Your hips began twitching helplessly against his unmoving hand, but he didn’t budge, letting the pressure on both his hands loosen enough to make you whine.

“Say it.” He said right against your mouth.

Your legs squeezed together. Useless. You swallowed hard, frustration burning through your veins. The tension was unbearable. His breath against your lips, his grip on your throat… And still, he waited, every muscle coiled like his whole body was holding its breath.

You writhed once, letting out a needy sound. “You.” You whispered.

His head tilted, lips brushing without kissing, hand on your throat tightening ever so slightly. “Me, what? Give it to me, all of it. Like you mean it. Like you need me.”

Your chest trembled under his hold and you could feel the heat pooling. Your body was aching for him to move, to do something. Anything.

“I’m yours.” You whispered. He didn’t move, not even when you squirmed. “Please, baby.” You whimpered, desperation bleeding through your words, pressing forward, putting a hand over his on your neck, the other one on his belt loop, trying to tug some movement into him. “I’m yours. I need you. Need you to show me. Make me feel it, Kylo. I’m yours.”

His mouth crashed into yours, starving, like he couldn't breathe without the taste of you. His hands squeezed on your neck enough to keep your lips open for him, tongue dancing with yours in a messy and uncontrolled hunger. You felt him lose himself in you.

He muffled a groan into you as he started to grind his hips against you. You’d pushed him right over the edge and you fucking loved it.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He dragged you off the wall, arm wrapped tight around your waits as he half-lifted, half carried you to the narrow table at the center of the room. “Say it again.”

You barely managed a breath before he bent you over the table, your palms catching the cold surface, lips parted. You were about to say it, again and again, but he was behind you now, yanking your hips into place like he couldn't wait another second.

“I’m—” His hand clamped over your mouth, pulling your bent state upright, flush to his chest.

“No.” He hissed low into your ear. His fingers curled around your jaw, pressing your cheek forward. “Keep your fucking eyes off him.”

You hadn’t even realized your stare had landed through the glass, glancing at Rix’s back. Still turned, thankfully.

“You’re not his. You never were. You never fucking will be.” He snapped and you whimpered against his palm.

He bent you back down, cheek pressed the other way now. His hand slipped up the back of your jacket, fisting the hem of your shirt and dragging it halfway up your spine. His gloved fingers spread wide across your lower back, pressing you down flat on the cool metal.

You roll your hips back enough to make him hiss, your bare core on his clothed one. Hard and tented. His fingers dug into the rounds of your ass, grinding forward once, twice, then pulling back just slightly. You didn't get the chance to look back when you heard the metallic clink of his belt coming undone. Your thighs clamped together instinctively when you heard the zipper right after. Then, the drag of his knuckles up the inside of your thigh, pushing any fabric left out of the way.

You felt him press up against you, two hands bracketing your head as he leaned forward with a rough, unsteady breath, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“It’s not just him,” He muttered, voice low and cracked, like he was admitting something he hated. “Everyone on this fucking ship looks at you.”

He grinds slowly against your bare heat, still just teasing, making your breath fog against the table with a stuttered exhale. His nose skimmed the side of your face.

“But you never let any of them get too close to you. Never let them think they’ve got a chance.”

You felt him shift behind you, his hand tracing back down your spine, palm dragging the fabric with it. Another flex of your hips and the head of his cock slipped against your entrance, thick and warm.

“You look men like him in the eye.” He rasped, dragging himself just barely through your slick. “And you shut them down. Without even thinking.”

Your fingers curled against the edge of the table.

“That’s why I’m like this. That’s why—fuck—” He breathed hard, steadying himself. “You don’t need me. But you want me.”

And then he pushed in. All the way. In one controlled, possessive stroke that made your knees buckle, your weight held up by your middle. You gasp straight from your gut, but you bit your lip hard at the tail end, trying to keep yourself quiet, just like he wanted.

He picked up the pace, hand on your throat, just firm enough to guide your head forward as he pressed into you over and over. Every thrust was building heat at the base of your spine. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to stifle the sounds that turned into squeaks in your mouth.

But you couldn’t stay quiet. Not anymore.

Gods, he made you feel so good. So wanted, so cared for.

“I do. I do need you.” You whispered hoarsely. “I want you, Kylo. But, stars, I need you.” Kylo faltered, just for a second. His body shuddered against yours. “I’m yours. But you’re mine, too.”

It made him stop. His hands tightened once like a reflex. But then, he pulled out so fast it made you gasp. You were about to protest when he spun you, gripping under your thighs to lift and shove you onto the edge of the table. His face is flushed and stunned and ruined all at once.

“I need to see your face.” He breathed like a confession.

And then, he was back inside you, rough and full of heat. Except now, he was staring straight into your eyes as he fucked you, forearms braced beside your ribs. You clung to his shoulders, hips chasing every thrust, the table rocking under you with each movement.

He kissed you, head bowed like he couldn't stand to be anywhere else but tangled in your mouth. “You don’t even know what you do to me.” His voice broke against your lips.

You kissed him hard, biting his lower lip and dragging teeth across it as you spoke. “They can look, I don’t care. They’ll never get close enough to know what you’re like. What your hands feel like.” You tangle fingers with his. “What you sound like when you lose control.”

His hips stuttered as he snapped forward again. He grabs your hands and pins them above your head, fingers spreading above your palms, moaning as quietly as he could into your mouth. He kissed you like it was the only way he could thank you.

“You think you’re possessive?” You whispered, panting through the pleasure. “You are. But so am I, Kylo. I love the marks you leave on my neck.” You went on, desperate and honest. “I like wearing them. You have no idea what that does to me. Knowing your mine. That no one else gets to touch you. You never look at anyone the way you look at me.”

Sweat slicked along his brow. His eyes flared, pupils still blown wide. “No one else exists.”

Your legs wrapped around him tighter. “Good.”

His breath quickened, his pace glitched, and he dove his face into your neck. He sucked a new mark, teeth and tongue, groaning from his throat. His hands gripped yours tightly as he gasped against your shoulder, buried so deep, all of his breath and muscle and tension locking up as you clenched around him. His mouth pressed hot against your neck. You could feel the way he was trying to stay quiet for you and it made your head spin.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes shut so tightly as you felt him unravel, and gently, you covered his mouth with your hand.

His eyes shot open, staring at you with something close to awe and he pulsed inside you. They shut quickly, and you knew he was there. A moan caught in your palm. Long, hard strokes still going as he came. He grunted into your hand, grinding once more into you before stilling completely.

He shuddered against your skin, but he didn't pull out yet.

Instead, he reached down, one hand sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit like he had mapped out many times before. The swollen bud between your legs throbbed from being edged to the brink. Your eyes roll back, head tipping, and he followed you there. He leaned in, taking the open invitation of your neck, mouth brushing and kissing blindly as you gasped for air.

“Look at you,” he whispered more to himself than to you, almost soundless. “Fucking beautiful.” His voice was rough and laced in devotion. “So good for me… gods, you’re so good to me.” Your whole body jerked when he caught the right rhythm, nails digging into his back now. A whimper threatened to claw its way out of your chest, but his mouth was there before it could, kissing you, swallowing every sound. “Shhh. Keep quiet baby. Just feel it.” He whispered against your lips.

His fingers never stopped. Circling. Pressing. He could read your body so well and he loved that.

“Let go, baby.” He breathed into your ear. “I need to see it. Just like this. Just like this, come on, sweetheart…”

And you did. It overtook you hard and fast. Your whole body trembled, every nerve pulled taught, then snapping like a thread under his hands. Your forehead dropped to his, legs tightening around him, crying so softly into the space between you, breath caught in his mouth. He kissed you again, softer and slower, letting your trembling fall into his palms. He held you through it.

You were clinging to him, breathing him in. Both of you are still shivering faintly from the aftershocks.

Maybe it was because you almost died. Maybe it was the jealousy that had been simmering all week. Maybe it was the way you let yourself fall apart for him here, a little more vulnerable than you’d like to usually be. But something felt different. A little heavier. Like neither of you could look away from what that meant.

You both just stayed there for longer than you should have, not speaking, not even laughing at the adrenaline of it all. But something passed between you anyway. It settled. His lips pressed to your temple and your fingers skimmed along his ribs.

Until reality returned.

“Shit.” You whispered, scrambling upright.

You heard footsteps. A murmur of voices. Hux and Rix are still deep in discussion, but clearly wrapping up their meeting.

Kylo snapped in motion beside you, adjusting his trousers, brushing his hair back and quickly smoothing your shirt down like it could erase the evidence.

You grabbed the glove still hanging from the table's edge and held it between your teeth, grinning. When he turned, you bit down on the leather, offering it back to him with a mocking rise in your brown.

He took the glove from you without a word, trying hard to keep his flat expression, but he was holding back a small smile at your little joke. The way he stared at you, still dazed and catching his breath, made your grin widen. He fixed your collar for you, straightening it out from where it skewed sideways with haste before making it to the door.

You were both hoping to get the hell out of that corridor before Hux and Rix even noticed you’d been there at all.

Unfortunately, you both had stepped out at the same time they did. All four of you froze mid step. You don’t know why you stopped walking, you could've easily just put your head down and booked it to the end of the hall.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more you wished you did.

Rix blinked once, gaze dropping to you—shirt wrinkled, untucked, flushed. Then to Kylo—one glove in hand, belt twisted, sweat still at his brow. The inspection wrote itself.

Kylo stood tall, imposing, completely unapologetic. He was staring Rix down like we’d been waiting for that moment. Checkmate.

Rix raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat, and stared at the ground like it was suddenly very interesting. Kylo knew he won. In every sense of the word.

Hux let out a hum, positively beaming. “At least he redirected his energy this time.”

Your lips pressed tight. You had no idea how to play innocent here. This was the best case scenario, and honestly, you were thankful they only noticed that you were around at all only now. You grabbed Kylo's sleeve as you started walking quickly down the corridor, hand catching his as soon as you turned the corner.

You didn't breathe until you turned the corner. “Oh my god,” you sounded mortified, walked fast, reaching the outer doors of his quarters in no time. “We could've just waited five more seconds…” You ran your hands over your face and groaned. “I’m going to have to change my name… transfer ships… fake my own death…” The drama made you slam your own body against the wall.

Kylo let out a low chuckle behind you, a real one from his chest. It surprised even him.

You whipped your head toward him. “You think this is funny?”

He didn’t answer at first, just gave you a look. Like you were worth smiling at, even with your face still buried in your palms and a scolding brow that made you look like you were seconds away from self-immolation. He stepped closer, not quite making any moves to unlock his door just yet.

“You,” he murmured, “are unforgettable.”

You narrow your eyes at him and drop your hands. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No, really, shut up. Hux is going to frame this moment. He’s going to place it in a display case inside the control room.”

He tilted his head. “They didn't see anything… But they’ll know for sure when they check the audio logs.”

You froze, eyes widening, heart stopping. “What?”

“I told you to be quiet.” He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek, but the amusement in his eyes was evident.

“Kylo Ren.”

“Might’ve gone straight into the internal log… they archive all field recordings…”

You grabbed his arm. “Kylo—”

“They could’ve thought it was a distress signal. Unidentified moaning, possible ambush—”

“KYLO.”

A wide grin broke across his face, it didn’t matter how hard he was trying to bite it down. He caught your expression. Horrified and murderous. “Kidding.” He held both his hands up. “I’m kidding. Obviously the coms were off.”

You let out a breath, once again placing your head in your hands and doubled over a little, huffing out the knot in your stomach that had coiled. You shot back up and smacked him hard on his shoulder pads. “You can't just say shit like that!”

“Apparently I can.”

You glared at him, cheeks blazing. “I’m gonna become a ghost story they tell new recruits to warn them about security cameras.”

“Oh, right,” he said suddenly, trying to deadpan. “The cameras.”

You huff. There are no cameras in the debriefing rooms, and you know that for a fact.

“Open the damn door.”

He finally keyed it open.

You stepped through and his hand caught yours before you were more than two steps inside. You turned to see his expression, the reminiscent look of playfulness was being overtaken by something quieter, more private. He held your hand, slowly leaning in just to rest his forehead on yours. His breath was warm, his fingers laced gently through yours. It was so startlingly soft that your chest ached a little. He had made you feel so many emotions in the past handful of hours, you weren’t sure which one you were supposed to land on; anger, lust, fear, relief, affection. Maybe all of it. Maybe that was the point.

You leaned into it naturally.

Then, he let out the tiniest breath of a laugh, almost like it just slipped through.

“You’re ridiculous.” You mumbled, eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m sorry.” He said it so lightly, a settled relaxation on his face curving into a little smile that told you he wasn’t really that sorry.

He pecked your lips before he pulled back.

You peeled off your jacket and sat on the bench in the corner, eyes following him as he moved around as usual—taking off his gloves, unlatching his belt, unfastening the front of his tunic. All very routine, but you watched it differently now. Like the whole day had reset the way you saw him.

He was letting you see him. The man. The commander. The quiet. The heat. The softness underneath it all. He wasn’t guarded with you and you had no idea when that shift happened, or how.

It kind of scared the hell out of you because what started as proximity turned to lust, which turned to something else entirely. Something that happened without structure or intention. Then, you were just… together.

He doesn't show this to anyone. And for some reason… he’s showing it to you.

What made you different? What was it about you that made him choose you, let you this close, peel back layers no one even knew existed? Four months ago you never expected him to be funny. You never thought he could joke about things like this, let alone kid and laugh through it. But he was, and everything was changing all of the sudden. Maybe it was not as sudden as you think, though. Maybe it had been building this whole time. Day by day, hour by hour, bigger and bigger.

It was turning into something that scared you more than any battle or death, more terrifying than war. There was no combat, no defense. It was just so comfortable. Deep. Addictive. Safe. And now, you didn’t know how to do any of this without him.

You swallowed hard and let yourself just watch him as he reached for a shirt in the drawer, and he looked up, pausing mid-movement. He felt your stare, but didn’t ask what you were thinking about, or press inside your mind like he so easily could. He was tempted, you could see the flicker of curiosity pass over his eyes.

Because he was wondering the same thing. When did we get here?

Neither of you wanted to say it first.

Too stubborn, both of you. Always playing these quiet little power games just to see who would give in first. Who would cave. Who would bite their lip and finally admit it.

And now, something new has come up. A different kind of game. One with higher stakes.

Because one of you was going to say it first, and when you did… everything would change.

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