
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6718894.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars_Episode_VII:_The_Force_Awakens_(2015)
  Relationship:
      Poe_Dameron/Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren, Hux/Kylo_Ren, Kylo_Ren/Rey
  Character:
      Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren, Poe_Dameron, Hux_(Star_Wars), Rey_(Star_Wars)
  Additional Tags:
      5_Things, Dubious_Consent, The_Force_Made_Them_Do_It, Permanent_Injury
  Collections:
      May_The_4th_Be_With_You_Star_Wars_Fanwork_Exchange_2016_Treat_Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-04 Words: 4389
****** Finding You at the End of Me ******
by ambiguously
Summary
     Five times Kylo Ren failed to keep his pants on.
Notes
     Written as a treat for furchte_die_schildkrote, whose letter was very
     relevant to my interests.
He's home on holiday. Jedi training has been intense, even more so now
considering the secrets he's been carrying on his shoulders these last few
years. Lord Snoke tells him he is advancing well in his private studies, while
Uncle Luke continues to beam pridefully on his achievements at school. Ben
doesn't consider it a lie to keep quiet about his other tutor, not a real lie.
He's doing extra work for marks that count on his own growth.
He will become the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. Lord Snoke says all he
must do is embrace the intense emotions running through him.
Today, though, he's home. At fifteen, he's taller than his mother, and well on
his way to meeting his father eye to eye. The three of them are barely in the
same room at the same time, even with the special occasion of his return.
Father has jobs to run. Mother has politicians to wrangle. Nothing has changed
in the five years he's been training with his uncle, and everything has
changed.
Ben never had many friends, and fewer still who followed the government as it
traveled to the next Capital. His powers set him apart then, and the Padawan
robes he wears set him apart now. Tired of this, he places them aside for a day
when his parents are busy, costuming himself as a normal boy. He goes to find
some fun.
"Jedi aren't supposed to crave adventure and excitement." His uncle's teaching
pricks Ben's conscience as he finds the club. "Jedi shouldn't form
attachments." Another teaching failed by the teacher. As he's grown, Ben has
become aware of the adult world, and adult needs, and too the nature of adult
hearts. His uncle never fell out of love with Ben's mother, only subverted the
affection into a deep, almost obsessive love for Ben. "Jedi attend to the needs
of the body, but keep the soul distant."
That's one he's interested in learning more about. Young people of all species
flock the dark dance floor of this club. His veins flicker and flame with the
two drinks he convinces the bar droid to serve him despite his age. Alight, Ben
makes his way through the press of hot bodies listening to a popular song he
doesn't know.
He's spotted someone who passes for a friend, a face he knows. "Hi." It's not
hard to find the beat. If nothing else, Ben has learned astounding control over
his own body.
"Hey." Poe Dameron always had a nice smile and a smooth way of making everyone
in the room feel good when he spoke to them. That hasn't changed. Ben has
changed enough to notice.
The music is wild and more than a little shallow. He doesn't mind, enjoys the
way his body reacts to the sounds and to the presence of the man dancing close
to him. Ben's younger but they are face to face, and the beat is just right. He
sneaks a kiss, and doesn't tell that it's his first.
Outside when they're getting some air, Poe's got a weird vibe. "You're a little
young for me," he says, but his hands are solid on Ben's arms and the first
kiss was a long time and several kisses ago.
"In meditation years, I'm almost thirty." It's a lie and a stupid line, but it
works. The hesitation drips away. Later, Ben's not sure if this counts as sex,
just a warm hand on him and his own hand trying to keep up, mouths locked in an
off-kilter clash of teeth. The thrum from the club is loud out here, and this
alley stinks of thousands of other lovers who've used the convenient shadows
for similar sticky purpose. He's not looking for love. Love is dangerous,
something both his teachers agree on. He just wants something of his own,
something not constructed by recreated Jedi lore or hissed in his ear by a
Master whose name he dares not speak.
Poe's body tenses, and he comes in Ben's hand, making a mess as he bites down
on his tongue. A moment later, he's on his knees in the dirty alleyway. Ben's
head lolls back against the damp, foul wall as he's sucked down, coming fast
against a quick, eager tongue. The taste shocks him out of his delirium when
Poe stands up and kisses him again.
"You want to go somewhere else?" Poe asks, but Ben turns his head. He's shaky
and electrified.
"I should get home."
"Okay. I'll walk you there." He knows the way, getting Ben safely up to the
apartment and stealing another kiss outside. "See you later?"
"Sure."
Mother's home, though Father's not, and Ben lies about where he's been and what
he's done. She doesn't seem to believe him but she's had a long day and won't
push why he smells like smoke when she kisses his cheek. In his room, the
communicator he keeps locked away is lit, signalling a new message from Snoke.
Ben stares at it, thinking about the music and the taste of the man's mouth
against his, and all the people he can be. He doesn't have to answer. He
doesn't have to go back to school. He can stay with his parents, pick up the
same business as his father or go to a real school and learn law to follow in
his mother's steps. He can find someone here, go dance every night.
When he wakes late the next morning with a bad headache, he opens the
communicator without thinking.
===============================================================================
Everything is dark, everything is rain, and nothing will quell the flame inside
his heart. He's accepted this new name and thrown away his past. Lord Snoke
said the deaths were necessary, that he can only ascend to greatness if he
destroys the ties binding him to the ground. The bodies of the other students
lie where they fell. Some are quite small. Those ties are gone. He should feel
free.
He wants to vomit.
"What's the order?" asks another black-clad Knight, the warriors Lord Snoke has
given him to command. It was his word that set this in motion. These are his
crimes, bloody and dead.
"Find Skywalker. He has to be here."
Luke is the last tie, and for once, he's not here. He wouldn't have run and
left the rest to die, which means that in the glorious irony of Ben's, no,
Kylo's new life, he picked the day for the assault to be a day when his uncle
was away.
Perhaps if he faces Luke in combat, perhaps if he strikes him down, he will
stop feeling the encroaching horror that blackens his mind now.
"Report back when you find him." He turns and marches off. He knows this place.
He spent the last years of his childhood growing stronger in the Force here,
helping to train the younglings and sparring with his equals, becoming jealous
of those whose gifts exceeded his own. Behind the dormitory, he stops for a
breath, yanking off the uncomfortable mask.
That's not enough. Everything is constrictive.
His choice of clothing is complicated, based on some study of his grandfather's
garb and of the old ways, when the Sith were mighty. Lord Snoke encourages him
to take on their power as he dons his clothes, and the power has destroyed
everything here. Fires burn. The few who still live and crawl futilely for
their freedom are being slaughtered one by one by his Knights. He led this raid
to claim Skywalker as Snoke's prize, and instead, he has not only allowed his
former classmates to be murdered, but his own hand struck many down in his
anger at not finding his target.
Kylo removes the armor, piece by piece, dropping it into the mud.
He covers his ears with his hands, and he tries to block out the sound of the
pounding rain laughing at his defeat.
===============================================================================
"General Hux will be the new commander of military operations."
Kylo stays kneeling before the projected image of Supreme Leader Snoke. "He's
an idiot."
"That may be, but he is a useful idiot."
"He has obtained every promotion and gain due to his father." This rankles.
Hux's father was also a fool, but more useful than his putrid offspring. His
fever dream gave rise to the First Order's ranks. His son is a clinging shadow
of that one good idea.
"Are you questioning my decision?"
"Never, my lord. I question his fitness."
"Then you do question my decision." The warning is clear. Accept this and stop
complaining, or it will be Kylo's turn to be questioned.
"I accept your wisdom. I withdraw the complaint."
"Good."
Less good is the triumphant sneer on the man's face when Kylo emerges from
Snoke's chambers and must give him a nod in greeting. Man, ha! He's hardly
older than Kylo, and doesn't have the years of training and discipline,
whatever of the latter Kylo has been able to scratch out inside himself. Hux is
in command because there is no one else. The better military leaders have
already fallen in skirmishes with the Resistance, and those few who know Kylo's
past blame him for his mother's sins. With the wiser minds dead, and the
Knights of Ren strictly out of the military hierarchy, only a few are left to
rise to the top.
More things float than cream.
Snoke enjoys watching them snipe and snarl at each other. He intentionally
compliments one in the other's presence to watch the second seethe. He goads
fights yet calls them back before Kylo, because it's usually Kylo, loses his
temper first. Kylo's private thoughts, the ones he hides from Snoke and doesn't
like admitting to himself, point out that a better leader would encourage them
to cooperate.
Things come to a head after yet another Resistance victory. "Someone must be
spying on us," Hux whines to Snoke. "That's the only way they could have
known." He looks directly at Kylo.
"You can't keep your own troops together. No wonder one of them has turned on
you."
"How did your mother find out about our plan?"
The taunt is open enough that Kylo feels no guilt about lighting his red
lightsaber and brandishing it before the tinpot General.
"Enough," says Snoke. "I doubt Kylo Ren's loyalties no more than I doubt yours,
General Hux."
That's a double-barb to wound both at once. Kylo instantly wants to prove his
own loyalty, and those same private thoughts realize that's the point.
From there, it's little question why the pair of them spend almost every minute
in the other's face. What was low-level back-biting is now easily seen in front
of the lower ranks. Someone is going to give, be it Hux's incompetence or
Kylo's mercuric temperament.
Lord Snoke of course has a better solution.
Kylo feels the impulses come from outside, twisting the already-present simmers
of desire into something more clear. Hux makes a cut about Kylo's family, and
Kylo sweeps out his legs to drop the man to the ground. "I'll show you."
Unexpectedly, Hux rolls him over. "I'll show you first."
Kissing is for lovers and people who like one another. This is hate given a new
venue. Kylo's strong enough to force Hux's head to where he wants, yanking his
trousers down to get that spoiled, hot mouth on his cock, making Hux gag. Just
the thrill of the power is enough to push Kylo right up to the edge, until a
blow to his knees fells him. Hux kicks him back to the ground, placing one boot
on his chest.
"Not today."
Stepping his full weight painfully on Kylo, he lifts the other leg and brings
his boot to Kylo's face, a smug, anticipatory expression all over his own.
"Shine it."
Kylo can knock him off. Hux is ready for him to try. Better to play along and
decide how much he's going to push his advantage. Kylo pulls off his mask,
setting it to the side to observe their broken dance. Disgusted with himself,
he darts out his tongue and licks at the toe of the boot.
"Better than that."
The taste is fouler than anything he's experienced. His gag rises as he
slathers as much spit as he can between himself and the awful leather. His eyes
catch the cold pleasure on Hux's face.
"You should clean my boots every day. Crawl out of your lonely bed, come to my
quarters, and make these shine."
Kylo pulls his head away and spits to help clear out the taste. "Only on the
mornings you shove your tongue into my ass."
Hux frowns and that's the opening he's been waiting for. Kylo pushes him off
and into the wall with one blow of the Force. Hux falls, stunned. Kylo's
already on his feet, stalking over, mindful that his pants are undone. He yanks
Hux up by the hair, staring into his face. "I could make you walk into an
airlock and jettison yourself."
"And how would you explain that to the Supreme Leader? He already thinks you're
an unstable child." Interesting. Hux isn't afraid. Kylo marks this as more
evidence of his idiocy. He's pondering this when the punch knocks him over.
They're grappling now, and Kylo feels the low line of Lord Snoke's commands in
his mind overriding how he ought to react, which is to kill this pompous
insect. Instead, Kylo's on his own knees, and Hux's trousers are coming off.
True to Kylo's taunt, he feels the intrusion of a wet tongue, but only long
enough to tease before it's followed by a much larger intrusion, lubricated
only by Hux's spit on his own hand.
It's awful, and it's good. He snarls another threat. Hux bites his neck and
drives in deeper until Kylo howls out in bitter pleasure as he comes.
After, there's no room for endearments or even a forayed tease at a 'next
time.' They don't look at each other.
The next day, there's another lost skirmish with the Resistance. They're both
summoned before Snoke like two errant boys. Hux says instantly, "It was Ren's
error," and Kylo knows they'll fight again.
===============================================================================
This is the worst thing that could have happened. Yes, the First Order is
rising to prominence in this area of the galaxy, setting its sights on the
ultimate prize. Yes, they've routed the Resistance, halving their forces in the
last few attacks, driving them deeper underground where he's sure his mother is
plotting in vain. Yes, he's poised to become the next Supreme Leader as soon as
victory is complete and he takes his Master's place.
But there's the girl to consider.
He can't stop considering her, and that's the problem.
The first time was an accident, he's told himself. They were close to a
powerful former Jedi Temple and the Force guided them, coercing them from their
fight into a different struggle. Rey's mouth was hot and Kylo couldn't think,
and they'd taken each other up against the wall of the temple, their moans
echoing from the high, stone ceilings.
He can blame the Force for the first time.
The second time, they fought in a field of flowers Kylo had never seen before.
He wound up with Rey straddling his hips, impaling herself on his cock as the
scent of the white blossoms filled his nose and drove away all other hungers
except to thrust. They spent hours unable to crawl away from each other, until
the pale sunset closed the blooms and the night wind carried off the last of
the intoxicating aroma.
The third time, the artificial gravity went out in the ship he'd hunted her
down in, and they blamed the disorientation. How disorientation meant they
would up floating by the roof with him buried inside her was anyone's guess.
Those indiscretions can be blamed on outside influence. The issue is that he
can't as easily explain away why, despite the fact that they are foes and he
hates her, Kylo can't stop himself from turning his every battle with this
woman into passionate and acrobatic sex. That Rey is just as displeased does
not make it easier to tolerate.
They've encountered each other on this lonely space station which is loyal
neither to the First Order nor the dying Republic. Without his mask and his
armor, Kylo is just another traveler. Rey is just another scavenger briefly
making port before she wanders away again. No one knows them and no one cares
as they stalk each other through the long corridors of this floating castle,
nor as their lightsabers clash in an empty storage room. No one at all cares as
Kylo pushes his mouth against hers to feel the familiar gasp and the thrust of
her strong tongue.
He can blame the Force. He can blame the memory of the flowers. He can't
understand why his hands have learned the easy fastenings of her garb, or how
she's even faster relieving him of his. Her skin carries too many scars, some
that he's given her, and his is no fairer, resting against her hot flesh, scar
against scar, heartbeats in counter-rhythm to one another.
Want and need are easy to confuse. It's want that makes Rey shove his bare
shoulders painfully against the floor. It's need that guides him easily into
her, groaning at how slick she is in her anticipation.
He's ready to babble, ready to spills all his secrets, and she shoves the heel
of her hand into his mouth. "Don't stop moving," she orders, and he can follow
that command as she rides him, intent on her own pleasure.
Rey's hair has grown since they last met, curling over her shoulder and
bouncing as they move together. He focuses on the sway of the curl, holding
back. He's been hard in his pants ever since he caught sight of her in the
landing bay, and it won't be long before he tips over. He doesn't want this to
end, not yet. They can be enemies again in an hour.
He reaches out with his mind. Rey fights him here, too, before relaxing her
defense. She's not thinking about him as she rises and falls on him, using him.
Kylo isn't the one she wants, which is fine. Could be fine. She doesn't want
him as much as he wants her. It's not fine.
"Feel me," he tells her in a Force command, pushing the pleasure he feels deep
into her mind to share.
At once, Rey's thoughts are consumed with the electrical impulses running
through Kylo as he drives himself into her. She feels him huge inside her, and
she feels herself wet and tight on his sensitive skin, and he smirks as the
feelings overwhelm her unprepared mind, as she sucks in ragged breaths around
the orgasm coiling and ready in her.
She pulls off, pushing him even harder against the floor with her powers. She
brings her needy clit to her face. "Finish me," she orders him back.
He is only too happy to lick his way into her, tasting her skin and her sweat.
She's close enough that he could push her over with the flick of his tongue,
therefore he holds her here on the edge as long as he can, one hand stroking
himself. He can hear her curse him in her mind. Rey shouts when she comes, an
eerie, pleasing sound he thinks he will never tire of. He pushes on, wringing
out a second peak from her as she clutches at the floor, too overcome to pull
away.
When she's done, she rolls to her side. Kylo is ready to finish himself inside
her, but she's strong. As he goes to climb onto her body, she shoves him away
hard.
This is unfair.
He pulls at her again, but he's met with her fist. "I'm done with you," she
says and it's the last thing he hears as he's knocked unconscious. When he
comes to, he's still hard, he's alone, and Rey has taken her own clothes as
well as his.
Kylo rests his head against the hard floor. He's going to make her suffer for
this the next time they meet, even if he has to beg.
===============================================================================
The war was long, and they've all lost more than they can count. He has lost
the driving purpose that goaded him for so long, traded for an uneasy alliance
that toppled the same organization he worked so long to protect. He has lost
his right leg to the knee, and no matter how good the replacement is, he knows
it is metal and he is not. He has lost the last of the family he walked away
from so long ago. He has lost another name.
He's not a prisoner. He doesn't have to be. He's collected enough enemies that
the matter of his freedom is merely a short span of time between the end of the
war and the first successful bounty hunter or assassin. He is choosing to spend
that life on his own terms. Today, he sits and watches the birds land and take
off from this ornamental pond in the heart of a city, gently encroaching on
each avian mind to partake in the breathless glory of their flight.
A shadow crosses where he sits. "Hi."
The word is uncomfortable, bitter. He glances up but his senses are still
attuned to everything that lives in the Force. He's been listening to Dameron's
tentative approach for some time.
"Hello." He returns his eyes to the larger birds sitting on the water regally
as the tiny fluttering birds that populate this area flit around. He's not sure
how they found this pool, drawn here by some instinct for water, even as
buildings tower on all sides around them. He takes in the span of their huge
wings, wondering how far they've traveled.
"It took a while to find you." Dameron sits down beside him. The war cost him
an eye, a terrible thing for a pilot. "You changed your name."
"The old ones didn't fit."
"You're hiding. You know someone will find out who you are and what you did.
Someone with a grudge."
He doesn't look at Dameron. "Is it you?"
There's a long pause, long enough for the galaxy to spin, for comets to twirl
around their stars like dancers before hurling back out into the cold. "No."
"Then leave me alone."
"I'd like to. Kill you, I mean. I still wake up screaming when I think about
what you did to me."
"That's common."
Poe chuckles darkly. "And you're still not going to say you're sorry, not for
any of it."
"'Sorry' doesn't being back the dead or heal the injury. It won't rebuild a
village. So what does it matter?"
"I guess it doesn't." He stands. "Rey's off world. I notice you didn't ask so
I'm guessing you already know."
"What Rey does is no concern of mine, as she's pointed out half a dozen times."
She's gone somewhere with FN-2187, following some last piece of Jedi lore his
uncle left behind. With uncharacteristic kindness, she offered him a place on
the expedition. He declined. He's no Jedi. He's not sure what he is now.
"Right." Dameron turns to go. He hesitates again. "What you did, back on
Dagelin Minor." He closes his mouth again. He sucks in a breath. "You didn't
have to."
"It had to be done. No one else could have reached him."
"You made that choice. You could have left us to die."
"I didn't want to." He still doesn't know why.
"Anyway," Poe says. "Thanks. In case no one else ever says it."
He nods. He isn't up to 'You're welcome' right now, not about Dagelin Minor,
not with the phantom pain still keeping him awake at night to deal with the
rest of his personal demons.
"You have a place to stay?"
"I'm renting a room. I can't stay in one place long."
"Right. Ben?"
The name is another wound. He gave it up gladly, and now he doesn't deserve it
back. But that was who he was back before everything went to hell. "What?"
"I was going to get dinner. Want to come along?"
The meal isn't great, but the company is better than he expects. They have
enough old stories that don't hurt. Poe's eyes are still a little distrustful,
still a little hurt. He wakes up with nightmares, but he's not the only one,
and neither of them are ready to sleep right now.
This doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't have to be more than two people
who've already cut each other in their soft places. It's not salvation or even
forgiveness for the wounds he left in Poe's mind, and there's nothing he can do
for the wounds inside his own.
He's learned a lot more about sex since the last time. He's good at finding the
place on someone's neck to suck, good at tracing his fingertips down a body to
seek out the sensitive, ticklish zones that cry out for hot hands and lips to
caress. He can take Poe deep into his mouth, relaxing his throat, holding him
down against the rented bed until his tongue burns with salt. He can use oil to
ready him slowly, each finger slick with promise until Poe's hard again waiting
for him to line up his body and shove inside with a delicious, slow burn. He's
met by a long moan.
He can't change the last twenty years. He can't bring back the fallen. He can't
unwrite the story of his failures, not inscribed as it is in huge letters among
the stars.
He can only feel the tight heat resisting him as he pushes in deep. He can only
bend in for practiced kisses against Poe's top lip, as his bottom is sucked
into Poe's mouth. He can only shudder at the careful undulation of the body
under his, seeking out the right motion and the best angle until there's
nothing but the need to come.
He can only wish he was fifteen again instead of thirty-five, and all his self-
sown sorrow yet before him, and he can sob as he comes, mourning everything
that never was.
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