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The Gift

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It had all started with that stupid plushy. She wasn't sure how. But everything had been fine until Poe had given it to her. Maybe not fine, exactly. But normal, at least. Everything had been normal.

They had gone to see the new Space Battles movie – for the third time – and Poe had brought the stupid, stuffed thing with him. He presented it to her with a flourish, as if just giving it to her wasn't embarrassing enough.

“Oh, come on. You love this character. Don't act like you don't want it.” He'd grinned at her knowingly, while he shook the damned thing in her face.

He had been right, of course. She was transfixed by the bad guy in the movie. It didn't even make sense. Normally, she picked the character that she identified with the most to like in a story, the plucky female lead that could get shit done without the help of some man. And she'd only been a cursory fan of the franchise before this new one came out. But there was just something about the villain that struck some kind of chord in her heart, begged her to take a second look.

It didn't hurt that she was impossibly attracted to him. Christ, he was hot. The things she would do to that man if she could. It was a little pathetic.

She snatched the plushy from her friend, a little pink-cheeked, and headed into the theatre. So what if she was the reason that they were seeing this movie again for the third time? So what if she was absolutely sure that the female lead had to fall in love with him in the next movie? He was worth saving, even she could see that! He was so tragic, it hurt her poor little heart to think of his past. He'd been used, manipulated, left behind, made to feel like he wasn't loved, wasn't good enough.

And wasn't that just such an allegory for her own life?

Maybe that was why she was so fixated on the character. Because so much of his tragic past mirrored her own. Though, she hadn't ever thought of turning to a life of evilness to get revenge for the hurts the world had caused her. She pushed the thought out of her mind, sitting back to enjoy the movie again, holding the doll tightly to her chest, absolutely transfixed in the story that she probably knew by heart by now.

She sighed on the way home from the theatre later that evening. This feeling was why she kept going to see it. Every time she saw it, she saw something new that she hadn't seen or paid attention to before. This time, it had been the interrogation scene. While, she could admit, there were some mildy rapey elements to some of the dialogue, his tone really struck something within her. He'd been so soft spoken, almost as if he was regretful of the things he was going to have to do to this poor young woman before him. Like he was trying to soften the blow he knew was to come with his compassion, his kindness. She thought up motivations for him in her mind, spinning herself stories of why he was forcing himself to do the things that he knew were wrong. Trying to justify his evil actions, trying to put him in a good light. She hugged the stuffed toy closer and sighed. She was a basketcase.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. She wasn't going to make herself into a crazy person by obsessing over a fictional character.

That, of course, didn't stop her from hugging the plushy tightly to her chest, tucked under her chin, while she slept.

It was probably a terrible idea. She wasn't a child to sleep with dolls. And the gift was just a joke, anyway. Even if she did secretly love it.

Scratch that, it was a terrible idea. Though, honestly, how could she have possibly known what the outcome could have been? These sorts of things don't happen in the real world to real people.

She dreamt about him that night. She didn't remember much of the dream afterwords. It was mostly hazy thoughts, being held in large arms against a broad chest, long, lean legs entwined with her own. It was sensual, but not entirely explicit. She'd had dreams like this before, everyone dreamt of someone touching them and caring for them. But it had never really been about anyone in particular before, her dream-man was always fuzzy around the edges and half-formed. This was most definitely a dream about her favorite villain, the one she wished she could save. She had felt safe in the dream; loved and wanted. Something she wasn't used to feeling in the real world.

She awoke the next morning slowly, inching her way out of dreamland. She stretched and froze. There was something clutched between her breasts, below her chin. Something cold and hard. She squinted her eyes open sleepily. And black.

There was more.

There was something wrapped around her. Tightly. Like large bands. And something tangled with her legs. When she tried to slide away from the thing in her bed, it tightened around her further. And shifted. It was warm. And felt suspiciously like...

Like a man.

She sat up with a jerk, sending herself off the side of the bed with a squeak and a thump and an “Oof!”

She sat up from the floor slowly, peaking the top of her head over the mattress just till her eyes were visible. She stared, transfixed, at the figure on the bed. The figure all in black. Black robes. And a mask.

Kylo Ren was in her bed.

Nope. No. She had officially lost all of her marbles. That was a fictional character from a movie. That was not a real person. A real person that was in her bed.

The figure shifted slowly, pushing up on its – his? – elbows. The figure's head shook, then looked around, before spotting her on the side. “What are you doing down there?” It did not sound like the voice of a morning person, she could tell that even through what ever vocal modulator was installed inside the mask.

She shook her head, flabbergasted. “What are you doing in my bed??”

There was a chuckle as the black figure situated itself on its side, propping its head on a gloved hand elevated on its elbow. “You're the one who brought me here.” As if that was some kind of answer.

“What? No I didn't! Who are you? Did Poe set you up to this? It's not funny, and you can tell him I said that.” She frowned.

She was having an argument with her hallucination. She had definitely lost it. Cracked. Nuts. Pyscho McCrazypants.

He sat up quickly. “I don't know anyone named Poe. And, no one sets me up to do anything. I do what I want. I take what I want. I am in charge of my destiny.” He sounded rather arrogant about the subject.

“Yeah. Right. Sure. Well, playtime with Rey is over, so... yeah. The door's that way.” She pointed.

“Oh, Rey.” Her name practically dripped from his tongue. “Playtime hasn't even started yet.” His voice was sin, even wrapped in the mechanical sound of his mask.

She was still dreaming. That's what this was. That was the entire explanation. There could be no other reason for this. She was having a sex dream about Kylo Ren. She could handle that. That wasn't something she was going to argue with.

She climbed back onto the bed, kneeling at the far edge of it. “Take off your mask.”

The man on her bed hesitated. Long enough for her to second guess her dream theory. She was right the first time. This was some kind of practical joke that Poe was playing on her. Her face tightened into a frown. She was going to kill him. She didn't care if he was her best friend's roommate-but-really-boyfriend-because-she-wasn't-stupid-she-could-see-what-they-were-doing-even-if-they-didn't-want-to-admit-it. Her hands tightened into fists around the hem of the oversized tee-shirt she slept in, balling the fabric and stretching it.

He finally reached up with gloved hands, fingering some sort of latch on the underside of his mask. The mask hissed, sliding open. He ducked his head and pulled the mask off. Her eyes opened wider as she saw the shock of black hair first, before it was swept from the angular, striking face. “Kylo Ren.” The words came unbidden from her lips, almost reverently whispered. She balled her hands tighter in the soft jersey knit of her shirt. How was this happening? How was this real?

He set the mask on the nightstand and skewered her with his gaze. “I was in some sort of trance. You held me close as you watched my life, it was like you were in my head. Then you got in some sort of transport and brought me here.”

He said it as if he had read her mind. And she couldn't help but giggle nervously. This was all too much. She didn't know if her mind could take this much longer.

He crawled across the bed towards her and grabbed her into his arms before she had a moment to react. He was so much faster than a man his size ought to be. He pressed her against his chest with one hand on the small of her back. He brought his other hand to her face, barely grazing his fingertips along her cheek as he stared intently into her eyes. It was too much. Those eyes felt like they could see into her very soul.

“I can feel it. Your loneliness. You were so scared. I can see the longing you've had, the need to belong to something. Someone. At night, you'd lie awake, waiting, praying for someone to come back for you. To care.” His face inched closer to hers, their noses almost touching. His eyes were heavy-lidded and absolutely smoldering. “Don't be afraid. I feel it, too.” The hand on her cheek drifted to cup the back of her neck. She could feel his warm breath puff across her lips a moment before he took them in a searing kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, her eyes immediately dropping shut. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue against hers, almost gentle compared to the crushing way his lips pressed into hers. Her hands found their way to his chest, gripping his tunic tightly. He slipped below the hem of her shirt to grab a handful of her round bottom, squeezing the flesh tightly before rubbing and massaging. It pulled her tighter against him and she felt the hardness of his growing desire.

She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting one hand bury in that soft, gorgeous hair of his. She didn't care if this was a dream, or some kind of elaborate prank. It felt too right to be anything but real. She kissed him wantonly, like he was the air she needed to breathe. She lost herself in his arms, in his mouth. Her entire world shrunk to the pinpoint of where their bodies touched, too many layers in the way to feel what she wanted.

And then he pulled away. She gave the most embarrassing squeak, affronted that he would ravish her lips and then leave. But he only stopped long enough to yank his gloves off. He groaned a raspy “I want to feel you,” before caging her face with his hands. His palms encapsulated her whole face, almost, and his fingers dove into her already-messy hair. He yanked her mouth back to his, taking no mercy on her red, bruised, kiss-swollen mouth.

He sat back on his heels and she fell instantly into his lap, straddling his hips like she belonged there. Like it was home, like she'd been made to fit there. His hardness between her thighs only heightened her own arousal, and she rolled her hips against the feeling, savoring the groan that he released against her lips. She reached her hands between them to desperately grasp and claw at the belt keeping his robes on, keeping his skin from hers. It took her a long, frustrating moment, but she finally unclasped the damned thing and tossed it over the side of the bed. Her hands slid up his heavy, outer robe, fingers searching for the clasps to release the fabric. His own hands drifted to her hips, rocking her against him rhythmically. She moaned and arched against him, momentarily lost in the feelings, forgetting her quest for skin. She felt him grinning against her mouth, and he kissed a line to her throat, below her jaw. She tilted her head back, giving him better access as he sucked on the soft skin of her neck.

She gasped. She gave up being kind to the damned cloth. Her fingers wedged between the seam in the middle and she wrenched it open, sending hooks and eyes flying. He laughed against her throat. “Anxious..?” His hands slid from her hips to her ribcage, hiking her shirt up her torso as he went. “No need. We've got all the time in the world.”

She wasn't sure how true that statement was. She was either going to wake up at some point, or her hallucination would end. And she wanted him so desperately. She slid her hands under the heavy cloth and slid the vest-like garment from his shoulders. He let go of her long enough for it to drop from his arms before returning his hands to her skin, letting his thumbs brush against the sensitive skin on the underside of her breasts. She carded her fingers into his hair and brought his lips back to hers. She felt like she couldn't live properly without his tongue pressed into her mouth.

He twisted and laid her on the bed before him, kneeling over her, their mouths urgently seeking each other.

“You're mine, Rey..” he murmured against her, his hands slipping back to her hips. “You'll always belong with me. To me.” His thumbs drew ever-widening circles against her hips, sliding under her panties. He caressed the seam of skin where her thighs met her groin, close to the spot where she was already hot and wet for him but not nearly close enough. “I'll always be here for you. I'll never leave you.”

His promises, his words did things to her, emotionally and physically. It was everything she'd ever wanted to hear from anyone. There were so many years where she would have done anything to hear someone say them. She had done all kinds of things to hear them, embarrassing things that she wouldn't even admit to Finn or Poe. She hadn't been that desperate for attention in years, but it still made her insides flutter at the words. He was saying them to her, and she hadn't had to ask for them, hadn't had to bargain for them. He said them, and she knew he meant them, and it was everything to her.

He sat back on his heels again and started to inch her underwear down her hips, over her thighs, down her calves, before untangling them from her feet and tossing them aside. He stared down at her like she was something worth worshiping, even still in her ratty old sleep tee, her hair an absolute mess from sleeping, no make-up. He wanted her, and he didn't care what a mess she was.

He pushed the shirt up to her pits and led his attention fall to her breasts. She had always thought of them as small but well formed, and they definitely looked tiny in his hands. But he didn't seem to mind the size. He leaned down to her, a forearm resting on the bed beside her, and lavished her hardening nipples with his tongue, one after the other. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and writhed against him. She gasped when he wrapped his lips around her breast, suckling her nipple and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub.

When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he nuzzled the valley of her breasts with his nose and lips and made his way to her other side, giving it the same focus. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen under his touch, his tongue and teeth scraping and laving against her sensitive skin. She was begging him incoherently when he finally sat back again, wriggling her hips against his. She had wrapped her legs around him at some point, but all coherent thought had left her long ago.

He took a breast in hand and thrummed his thumb against her nipple. She moaned, her eyes closed, her face flushed, and she pressed into his hand. He chuckled arrogantly. “So beautiful. So responsive.” He tweaked her nipple again and she arched against him.

“Kylo, please!”

He drifted his hand down her torso back to her soft curls. They were so embarrassingly damp now. He grinned down at her as he pressed his thumb into her, spreading her folds open for him to see the swollen, red flesh of her sex. She was so wet for him, and she blushed at the idea of him knowing it.

He dipped the very tip of his thumb into her aching depths, just to the first knuckle, just a tease, before gliding it up to the hooded apex of her desire. He stopped short, just to the right of the point that she needed him, and wiggled his thumb against her skin, side to side, so that the motion stimulated her swollen, aching clit, but not enough. She hitched her hips against his hand, trying to ride his finger, trying to force him where she wanted – needed – him. He held her hips still with her other hand. When she opened her eyes and looked up to him, her breaths panting from her shallowly, she saw his own eyes were fixed to her. He was watching her, his mouth slightly agape, taking in all of her reactions as he touched her. She lost herself in those eyes, so deep, so full of emotion. Staring into his soul only made the things he was doing to her feel even more intense. She bit her lip, her brows crumpling, and she couldn't stop the soft mewls and moans and sighs his touch engendered.

He was the first to tear his gaze away, looking back down at her sloppy wet cunt as he slipped his long fingers inside of her. She tossed her head back against the pillows on the bed and moaned lewdly. She could hear how wet she was, the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of her obscenely loud. She'd never felt so good being fingered before, and that was really saying something.

“Kylo! Oh God. That's it – Right there..” she moaned, fisting her hands into the sheets as she shamelessly ground herself against his hand.

She felt the bed shift and then it was his tongue on her instead of his thumb. It was perfect, everything she'd ever needed. He swirled that heavenly tongue around her aching clit before sucking on it and she was lost. He lost range of motion with his fingers, what with his face wedged so close to her, so he opted for curling and drumming against her g-spot instead of penetration.

His tongue, his fingers, everything was too much, too perfect for her poor pussy. She started to yell at him incoherently, calling his name and telling him he was going to make her come. Though, why she felt she needed to warn him of it, she had no idea. Not like he couldn't tell either. Her cunt clenched against his fingers aggressively, spasmodically, as he doubled down on his efforts to pleasure her. His tongue didn't let up, his fingers thrumming against her faster, harder, as she rode the waves of her orgasm.

Her world shattered, her vision blurred. When she finally came back to herself, she was panting, gasping for breath. Kylo had stripped off his lighter, inner tunic at some point, and was dressed in only his trousers and some kind of long-sleeved crop top. And suspenders. She giggled softly, reaching up to snap one of them. “Really..?”

He gave her a smirk. It was painfully adorable. “Can't really be intimidating while hitching up my pants every five steps..” He said with a shrug. He was a little pink-cheeked. She had a fleeting thought that she might be the only person who had ever seen him like this. The idea made her smile widely at him. She reached up and pushed the suspenders down his shoulders. She pulled him back down to her, capturing his face in her hands as she kissed him. He tasted like her, and it was exciting.

He pressed her back into the mattress, his hips wedging into hers perfectly. He was so hard against her center, and she couldn't wait to feel him filling her up. She grabbed hold of the zipper on that silly shirt and tugged it open urgently. She pushed it down and he shrugged out of it. His skin was so smooth, his shoulders so broad, his arms so strong. She let her hands roam around his beautiful torso as they kissed. He wiggled his way very ungracefully out of his long trousers and kicked them off the bed with his boots.

He sat back again on his heels, but he pulled her with him this time, trailing his lips across her jaw. “Are you ready for me, Rey?” He murmured as he pulled her shirt over her head and threw it across the room. She was finally naked against him, skin to skin.

“Oh, god, Kylo..” she giggled. “I've been ready for you for months.” She moaned, rocking her hips forward so she was pressed against his cock. She was still so wet for him, and she slipped against him, a mixture of his spit and her arousal.

He reached one arm under her, grasping onto her bottom and lifting her a bit. His other hand guided her wriggling hips to still themselves as he pressed her down, impaling her, sinking her onto his hard heat. She groaned, her head falling back, her hands grasping at his shoulders tightly, as he filled her. She wasn't small, but he was so big he still dwarfed her.

She moaned his name as he pulled her fully onto his length. She gripped him tightly with her thighs and rolled her hips against his. It sent shocks of pleasure through her. She did it again, and he held her hips tightly in his hands. “Wait..” he gasped, panting. “Gimme..” he cleared his throat, the move unexpectedly making his cock throb and twitch inside of her. “Gimme a second..” She looked into his eyes again and noticed for the first time that he was just as absolutely wrecked by this as she was.

His hands slid up to span her waist, almost encompassing her. He pressed his thumbs into her, just inches from where he was buried inside of her. It made him feel even bigger inside of her, and she clenched around him, which made him groan deeply. He leaned his forehead on her shoulder and panted for breath as he slowly started to rock her hips against his. He kissed her clavicle and up her throat, murmuring how tight she was, how good she felt.

“Mine.. Mine.”

His grip on her tightened, feeling more possessive. He stopped rocking her against him and started to slam their hips together, pulling her into him has roughly as he thrust up into her. She clung to his shoulders, completely losing herself in this – in him. She moved with him, working herself along his length with the rhythm he set, bouncing hard and fast in his lap. He pulled her body against him even tighter, his hand spanning her lower back to arch her further. She let her head fall back, and his mouth at her neck went from kissing to biting, his teeth scraping against her skin hard enough to mark. She fisted her hand in his hair, keeping him close as he mouthed at her.

“Oh, Christ, Kylo!” She moaned. Her thrusts became stuttered, less rhythmic. She tugged at his hair, pulling his mouth up to hers greedily. She couldn't even focus enough to do more than press their lips together sloppily between moans and murmurs. “I can't.. Oh god.. Please!” She needed more, but she couldn't make her limbs work right, he felt too good inside. Her legs were twitching and shivering with the effort to keep up with him.

He caught her face in his hands, stilling her movements, and kissed her properly, running his tongue along her lips and the inside of her mouth, their tongues mating together in a more chaste version of their current entanglement, taking her mouth until she was breathless in more ways than one. With an obvious, concerted effort he pulled her from his arms, from his hardness, and laid her down onto the bed. He knelt above her, leaning into her body with his own. He slid his hands up her body, grasping onto her pert breasts with those long fingers. His mouth found hers again, kissing her hungrily.

His fingers on her nipples was exquisite, and she arched into the feeling of him nudging against her entrance again. But he didn't push into her, only let himself slide up and down the hot, wet length of her. When she tried to urge him on with her hand on his hip, he took her hand away, pressing it to the bed above her head. His lips finally left hers when they'd had their fill, and he flipped her onto her stomach on the bed.

He pressed his entire body into hers, enveloping her between the softness of the bed and his hardness. He settled the majority of his weight on his forearm near her head. He slid his right hand down to her hip, shifting her slightly, tilting her hips so they slotted against his deliciously. He kissed and nibbled on her shoulder as he slipped back inside of her from behind. He nudged her thighs further apart with his knees, sinking deeper into her wetness. His forehead dropped down to her shoulder, his fingers flexing harder into the flesh of her hip. He groaned what might have been her name, and his hips snapped into hers rough and fast.

She cried out and arched into him, pressing back against his thrusts as much as possible. She lifted herself onto her elbows, turning her head to watch him. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. She strained her legs against the bed, and he slapped his hand down onto the small of her back, arching her how he needed her and keeping her still. She moaned and keened under him in time with his thrusts, each slap of skin punctuated with her cries. It was still not enough, and she writhed under him. His hand slid up her back to her hair, tangling and fisting the strands in his fingers. He tugged on her hair and she pressed her face back down into the bed.

He shifted onto his knees, using his left hand to pull her up onto hers as well. It made him sink even deeper. She moaned his name as he slammed into her. His hand in her hair pulled slightly, twisting her so that her red face was turned to him. She grasped blindly at the bedding, looking for anything to ground her as took her harder than she'd ever been fucked before.

“D'you wanna come, Rey..?” His voice was deep, ragged, but still so controlled. So dominant.

Her strangled moan was the only thing she could get out.

“Can't hear you.” He slammed into her a few more times. He leaned down to her, groaning into her neck, his hips snapping against hers. “Do you want to come?” His words were deliberate, sinful. He let go of her hair and took her hips in both hands.

“Yes! Please.” She was barely capable of coherent speech.

His grip on her tightened, his thumbs pulling her round bottom apart so he could fall into her even more. “Who's gonna make you come, Rey?” His voice was becoming a little more needy, a little less controlled.

She gasped and rolled her hips into his, her knees spreading even farther to accommodate him. “You! You are. I need it.”

He chuckled against her neck and licked her salty skin. “Gotta say my name, Rey. Tell me what you want me to do.” His thrusts stuttered against her, slowing down to tease her.

She cried out needily and tried to force him, slapping her hips back against him. But he stilled her motions with his hands, taking her with shallow movements.

“Kylo! Kylo, please!” She gasped. “Please, I can't.. You have to.. I need..” Her rambling didn't make him keep going, and she swallowed her pride, lowering herself to begging. “Please fuck me, Kylo. Please make me come!”

He growled into her neck, sucking on her heated skin. He finally started to move in her again, building up the speed of his thrusts. She moaned and strained against him, wanting him as much as he could give, as deep as he could go. He slid his right hand from her hip down to her belly and slipped his middle and ring finger into her slick heat. He swirled his fingertips around her swollen clit and she cried out as her pleasure ramped even higher.

The circles and his cock were too much for her, and she felt blinding white stars explode inside her, behind her eyes, reverberating deep in her cunt. She screamed his name, over and over, as she came around him, clenching him tighter as he pounded into her. He lost all rhythm as she spasmed around him. He rode her hard as she gasped and moaned in the aftershocks of her orgasm, her body twitching and shuddering. He finally slapped into her and stilled, his own orgasm ripping a roar from his chest.

He collapsed onto his arms on the bed, caging her, and gasped for breath. “Stars, Rey..” He moaned against her hair. They stayed like that for a few more minutes before he finally pulled out, slick with both of their emissions. He fell to his side on the bed and pulled her softly against him. He was covered in sweat, and she was dripping his seed, but it was the most beautiful moment she'd ever experienced.

She didn't care if this was a dream, if this wasn't real. She would cherish this memory for the rest of her life. Nothing could ever be as perfect as being thoroughly wrecked by this man, and having him be such a mess for her in return.

She was really going to have to get Poe a fruit basket or something. None of this would have been possible without his stupid, oh-so-thoughtful gift.