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Lord Ren meets his betrothed for the first time on a gloomy afternoon, the day before they are set to wed. Their marriage was arranged by their families more than a decade ago, when she was but a child and he was still calling himself Ben; their consent was not required, as is the custom. Surrounded by his knights, he waits for the delegation from Jakku with head held high and heart beating wildly in his chest as an Alderaan banner flutters at his back.
His family had ensured that his bride would be only the noblest of princesses, and that worries him. His bride . A complete stranger with whom he’ll share the rest of his days. He knows nothing about his future spouse, save for her name and origins: Rey. The only niece of Emperor Palpatine, she’d been raised in the endless expanses of sand in the Southern Lands. A woman to warm the lonely, cold nights of Alderaan, someone that will obey him, and cherish him, and look upon him as a guide.
A distant rumble of thunder echoes through the valleys, and Ren turns his head to his castle, a dark silhouette looming from its position on the peak of the highest mountain. He wonders if his bride will miss the desert, if she will ever learn to love Alderaan, if she will ever learn to love him . He knows none of that really matters, since their marriage is only a contract to ensure an alliance between the two most important regions of the Country, but at the very least, he would prefer that their union not be openly hostile. He heaves a sigh.
The sky opens right as he glimpses a lone horse approaching quickly, its dark shape barely visible through the misty rain. It’s undoubtedly an envoy, sent to announce the imminent arrival of the delegation from Jakku. Ren orders his men to return to the castle, and waits. The horse stops in front of him and a tall, lanky boy dismounts, his freckled face almost completely hidden by a soaked hood.
“Are you Kylo Ren?” he asks.
Lord Ren gulps, stunned at the lad’s gall. “Indeed I am Lord Kylo Ren. And you would be?”
The boy approaches him without any display of deference, studying his face. “They told me you were ugly. I shall get accustomed to your crooked nose eventually, you needn’t worry.”
Ren can’t believe his ears, and his poor heart thumps behind his ribcage. He’ll have the boy flogged in front of the whole court for this. “E-excuse me?!?”
“I said ,” the brat states, removing his hood and uncovering a convoluted hairstyle, a feminine one. “I said that I’ll become accustomed to your nose. I’m Rey, your betrothed.”
Ren is speechless, his face in flames. The person he mistook for a boy is his future bride. She’s here, she’s alone, and she’s as beautiful as she is disrespectful. Ren is so angry that he wants to draw his sword and fight every single one of his knights to first blood, but instead, he is forced to endure this alone, cold and wet and miserable in front of his betrothed. He breathes slowly through his nose until he can feel the fire on his cheeks begin to recede.
“I don’t know how things work in the South, but until we’re wed you are my guest here, and you’ll do as I say,” he declares, his voice unwavering.
Rey shrugs, covering her hair again, and he extends his hand, the right one, offering his ring to her. It’s his late mother’s ring, so tiny that he can only wear it on his smallest finger, and it bears the crest of Alderaan etched on its golden, flat surface.
“Kiss it,” he orders. “Kiss my ring.”
Rey’s eyebrows arch in surprise, and her gaze fills with pity. He can feel his frustration mounting again. “I’m waiting,” he huffs.
“No.” Rey answers.
“I will not stand for this… insubordination when we are wed,” he seethes, and Rey has the nerve to smirk at him.
“Fine,” she says, kneeling in the mud and delicately touching the golden ringlet with her lips.
Kylo Ren feels like he’s on fire again. He lowers his gaze, meeting her eyes, so wide and luminous in the dark afternoon, mischievous under her hood. He gulps, and she smiles at him as her small, calloused hand grabs his wrist and her pink, wicked tongue licks a stripe from fingernail to ring, wetting his pinky and making his whole body tremble in shock.
His cock is suddenly hard as a rock, and he opens his mouth, but no sound comes from it. Rey sucks on his finger then, her eyes never leaving his face. Her mouth burns, her hot little tongue languidly caressing the underside of his finger, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. He needs to do something, he needs to stop her before he soils his breeches like an adolescent, before he humiliates himself in front of her. But right as he opens his mouth to speak, another horse gallops towards them, and Rey shows him mercy, releasing his finger.
A short, blonde woman dismounts from the soaked horse. “Lady Rey,” she pants. “Why did you run away like that?”
“I wished to see my betrothed, Kaydel,” Rey answers, getting to her feet and entwining her fingers with Ren’s, making his heart skip a beat. “I wanted to see for myself if what everyone says about him is true.”
Her hand is so small and warm. Ren steals a glance at her face, and she returns it with another smirk. He looks at his feet then, focusing on the tips of his boots that are already stained with mud. They’ll need to be cleaned.
“The others are waiting for the storm to end at the inn near the lake. They’ll be here tomorrow, on time for the wedding,” Kaydel says.
Rey squeezes his hand. “Let’s go then, my Lord.”
Ren gulps, following her. For the first time in his life, he’s lost.
+++
Lord Ren can’t sleep. He’d given his betrothed and her handmaiden a room for the night, in the opposite wing of the castle. They’d taken their supper together, an informal affair since the rest of the delegation had been delayed. The two women had behaved themselves at the table, even if his future bride kept throwing hungry glances in his direction, despite having told him she found him ugly. He already knew he wasn’t an Adonis, so there was no point in feeling sorry for himself, but her words were, rather unexpectedly, hurtful to him.
His thoughts keep returning to what happened that afternoon, right after she told him he was ugly, when she knelt in front of him. Lady Rey’s mouth was so warm and wet around his finger, and his body answered so quickly that it scared him. He hasn’t given much thought to pleasure in many years, determined to focus on his training, but now… his hand travels across his abdomen, seeking his member. It’s still hard. A couple of strokes would be more than enough to make him explode.
But he can’t, he simply can’t. His hands retreat from his cock as if it were made of molten metal, and he bolts to his feet, quickly donning his leather boots and pulling on his cloak. He needs fresh air to clear his head, to not think of her. But just as he’s retrieving his dagger from under his cushion, the door squeaks, its handle turning. He stops, frozen on the spot: he’s sure he bolted the door using his key, and said key is currently hidden next to the dagger. In the dim light of the chamber, he sees a hand pushing the door open, small fingers grabbing the wood. A slim figure in white slips inside, walking on tiptoes: it’s Lady Rey, and Ren’s throat is suddenly so dry that he almost can’t make a sound.
She notices him standing next to the bed, and freezes.
“My Lady,” he croaks. “The door was bolted.”
“Yes,” she says, without offering any explanation.
“It’s improper for a woman to visit her betrothed alone before the wedding,” he says, abandoning the weapon under the cushion again. “In his chambers, nonetheless.”
She walks towards him. Her feet are bare, and they don’t make any noise on the floor.
“In any case, we’ll be wed tomorrow,” she shrugs. “A few hours won’t make a difference. I’ve waited long enough.”
Ren cards his hand through his unkempt hair. She’s here , and it seems there is nothing he can do about that; not even a bolted door can keep her at bay. He can feel his heart thumping against his ribs and blood pressure deafens him as she approaches, the hem of her nightgown sliding against the cold, tiled floor. He tries to take a step back, but his legs hit the frame of the bed. She stops right in front of him. He’s trapped.
“What if someone saw you entering?” he asks, looking at his boots again.
He’s glad the room is dark enough to mask the wild blush making his whole face burn. Rey doesn’t answer, just extends a hand and caresses the scar marring the left side of his jaw, barely hidden by his meager beard, and he prays she won’t feel the fire coursing across his skin. He trembles again under her feathery touch, chest heaving and knees shaking. Tomorrow this woman will be his bride.
“I don’t care,” she whispers against his lips. “Things in the South are different from here, you know.”
“I won’t defile you,” he stammers, “Lady Rey. A… as you said, we’ll be wed tomorrow, and you'll have to wait.”
“I’m no virgin,” she laughs. “And I’m not here to fuck. I only need to unwind, and fall asleep quickly. I ask for so little.”
Ren can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, and exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I’m not–”
“We’re two strangers entwining their destinies for the sake of our Countries. I don’t wish to share the rest of my life with someone I can barely tolerate, my Lord.”
“Neither do I,” he whispers, his gaze downturned. “You’re not at all what I was expecting.”
“And you are exactly what I was expecting.” Rey laughs again. Her fingers bury themselves at the nape of his neck, and she quickly pecks his lips, leaving him almost petrified. “Let me rule you, and you can have everything you want.”
Ren’s cock is hard again. He wasn’t born to be ruled. He’s the only son of Queen Leia, he was born to be king, he was born to command a whole army, the biggest army ever seen; he bows to no one. But Lady Rey is here now, and he knows there’s no going back.
"Sit on the bed,” she commands, and he obeys.
His betrothed lifts her nightgown then, securing the hem into her neckline, making his breath hitch and his cock jump behind the thin fabric of his sleeping leggings. Despite the dimness of the room, her quim is fully exposed to his gaze, and he can see how puffy her lips are behind the small bush of downy hair covering the upper part of her groin. Having always refused to visit brothels with his knights, he’s never seen a naked woman up close before, and his head is suddenly empty of any thought. It’s dizzying.
Expecting Rey to touch him again, he’s disoriented when she kneels on the floor in front of him and starts stroking the tip of his left boot. She caresses the soft leather covering his foot, and grabbing his ankle, she stretches his leg until the tip of his boot is pressed at the apex of her thighs, and they both moan. He could never have expected this in any way.
She slowly lowers his foot until the heel of the boot touches the floor, and then she stretches over his distended legs, her cheek coming to rest against his thigh. His cock twitches, a small, dark spot of moisture staining his leggings, and she starts rocking against his instep, filling his nostrils with the heady scent of her cunt. She’s not even touching him yet but pleasure is already permeating his limbs, and he covers his mouth with a hand, trying to stifle another moan.
The first contact of her cunt against him is almost otherworldly. The leather is so soft that he can feel her pubic bone grinding against the instep of his foot, followed by the grasp of her meaty lips. She undulates lusciously against his legs, and he can feel her shudder every time the little bump at the top of her quim rubs against him on every backstroke. The hold of his hand over his mouth becomes stronger, his eyelashes fluttering against his burning cheeks.
“You have beautiful boots,” she pants, grinding against the soft leather again and again. “I noticed straight after kneeling to kiss your ring.”
Ren tries to think about something, anything that could distract him, but Lady Rey soon reaches for his hand. He doesn’t wear his ring to sleep, but she doesn’t seem to care as her tongue starts lapping at his little finger, right over the lighter patch of skin that never sees any sunlight. A groan escapes him despite the hand covering his mouth, and she smiles, her tongue quickly moving onto his ring finger.
He barely stifles another moan as Rey engulfs both fingers in her mouth, sucking on them noisily. His cock keeps twitching against his clothes as her warm spit coats his skin, tongue dancing against his fingertips, and he catches himself right before he opens his mouth and begs her to touch him, right before he can humiliate himself in front of her. But she doesn’t seem to notice his predicament, as her movements become faster and faster, her groin now frantic against his boot.
Her cunt is so warm that he can feel it through the leather, the sound of her drenched folds humping against him quickly filling his ears. Tomorrow they’ll be wed, and the idea that he’s going to be this woman’s property until he dies shoots a shock of pleasure through his body, and goosebumps spread across his skin. Everything feels like too much, the room is spinning around him. Her cunt burns like fire, her wicked tongue makes his nipples pebble and chafe against the rough wool of his cape, and her eyes on him make him feel so small, so little, so needy.
Rey’s mouth abandons his fingers, a thread of drool landing on his leggings. “Come,” she croaks, “come for me, Lord Ren.”
A lump forms in his throat. His balls shrink as his cock pulses one last time, the burst of his seed staining the fabric of his leggings as he comes untouched, his eyes never leaving his future bride’s. Her movements against his boot are erratic now, and he reaches out, seeking her rosy, wet lips, and pushes his first two fingers past them, right as he rides out the last aftershocks of his orgasm.
When Rey comes, her teeth biting the meaty underside of his digits as her movements against his boot become slower and slower, he almost wants to cry. She gently rocks herself on his foot, now tingling from all the manhandling, and trembles one last time, a tired moan escaping her mouth and reverberating around his soaked fingers. Is this what it really means to be vulnerable, to be seen? He could never afford to allow himself to feel like this with anyone before, and now it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
+++
“Wake up,” Kaydel sing-songs, unfazed after finding them together in his bed.
Lord Ren stretches lazily, his body still curled around his betrothed. They forgot to bolt the door again, too tired to do anything that didn’t involve lying on the bed and kissing, after coming together last night. Ren has never shared his bed with anyone before, and the thought that he’ll share not only his bed, but his whole life with this woman is not upsetting at all, now. He could live without nosy handmaidens, though.
“You need to return to our rooms, and prepare yourself for the wedding, my Lady,” Kaydel continues, tickling Lady Rey’s naked foot.
At her handmaiden’s words, Rey turns around, burying her face into his chest and her feet between his legs. Her gestures make him feel inexplicably warm. His hand caresses her spine, his fingers burying at her nape, and she sighs contentedly.
“Kaydel, give us an hour. It’s still early,” he says, making Rey smile.
The handmaiden bows and leaves the room, and he finally removes his hand from Rey’s hair, bringing it across her body and down, pausing right between her legs. Until a few hours ago he would never have dared touch her like this; he believed her spirit could only be tamed through orders. Now he knows better.
“What about your insistence on not touching me until we are wed?” Rey groans, teasing.
“But it is our wedding day, my dear Lady,” he jokes. “Yesterday was another day altogether.”
“So you can touch me now, then?” she murmurs, opening for him. “I like it. Go on. ”
Lord Ren obeys, smiling against her neck as he slides his fingers through the wet lips of her cunt for the first time. Her gasp when he finds her nub is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard, and he wonders what noises she might make if he were to use his tongue, and his cock.
“Tonight,” he murmurs. “Tonight I’ll be yours.”
Lady Rey trembles against his fingers. “You already were, my Lord.”