Cherchant (Kylo Ren x Reader)

Five

Kylo's eyes search your face. Butterflies swarm in your chest as you feel your cheeks pull into a slow involuntary smile.

"We just met, but, I get the impression that you don't hear the word 'no' very often," you say. "I just mean... you're so... so..."

Maybe I should stop talking, you think, before continuing.

"I'm going to need more information if you expect me to become some sort of student."

You haven't been a student for over a decade and you've definitely never had a teacher that was this hot. Would you even be able to concentrate in his presence? You remember, with a start, that there's a good chance that he can read your thoughts. The realization almost sends you running for the door.

You notice a new expression flash across his features. Amusement?

Shit.

"I will be the one asking the questions," he says, radiating intensity.

His eyes roam your face and then down your entire body. He's studying you, sending a shiver down your spine. You feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. The bartender ensemble you're wearing is far from modest.

"Okay..."

You wait, fidgeting.

The conversation begins with you responding to his request for a rundown of your life up until now. You talk way too much, repeating yourself because you are ridiculously distracted by his scrutinizing gaze until you think you have just about covered the gist of your life story.

"That's how I ended up in Okiwaan managing a jazz club. I've been here for a few years and it's become home. The first place that ever really felt like home, honestly."

You pause to see if he has any follow up questions. He does.

"You said you're an artist. What is your medium?"

Blinking, you don't remember talking about your art.

"Ink and paper. I've explored many mediums over the years but I always return to ink and paper. My dream is to save enough to set up an intaglio printmaking studio. There isn't one in the district that I know of."

The confession has your mind wandering to long past peaceful days. You're back in the campus studio creating art under the guidance of Professor Untari, savoring the process and the satisfaction of having an idea translate successfully onto paper. You find yourself staring into the fire, sipping the whiskey and savoring these memories from the peak of your productivity and artistic expression.

"I want you to hold onto that feeling of peace and expression that your art-making brings you," he says as he stands to refill your glasses.

"When we begin meditation, you will want to draw on that."

He seems to have picked up on much more than the words you spoke. A thoughtful silence passes but you still feel uneasy.

Accepting another pour of whiskey from a bottle that looks miniature in his massive hand, you decide to try again.

"Look, I have to ask. If we are doing this... whatever this is. Training? I'm gonna need something more in the way of an explanation. If you don't want to talk about yourself, I guess I can live with that for now. But I do need to know... What is your relationship with the Force and what exactly makes you qualified to teach me anything?"

You force yourself to meet his gaze even though doing so immediately extinguishes your confidence.

"In time you will learn many things. For now, I'm asking you to trust me."

His eyes move back to the fire before he continues.

"I spent most of my life honing skills and drawing on the deep well that is the Force to wield power, great and terrible," he says, softly. "I don't want that part of my life to fade away."

He looks up at you.

"I am... drawn to you... I see before me a woman radiating light, curiosity, and creativity. I can't explain it, maybe we should credit the mysteries of the Force but... I want to know you."

The way he says 'know' sends a lightning bolt through your soul. It carries so much weight. Warmth pools between your thighs causing you to exhibit what must be the worst blush yet.

"It's getting late," you say, hastily.

"It is. Your club is closed tomorrow, isn't it?" He asks, politely ignoring your reddening face.

"Yes... but I should definitely be getting back to check on how the fundraiser went..." you say, standing and avoiding eye contact.

"I have a guest room," he interrupts. "I would like you to stay here tonight so that we can begin training tomorrow, here on the island."

You stare, unblinking.

You let the idea run through your mind. You know the club is in capable hands. You can have it cleaned and restocked in time to reopen in a couple of days without tomorrow being an issue. You fail to come up with a reason to refuse him. Kaav will wonder what happened to you but you will send him a message to let him know not to worry.

You take a deep breath.

"Alright. I'll stay."

— — —

The guest suite at Kylo's villa is insane. It's bigger than your entire house and far more luxurious. You find super soft sleepwear in the armoire. You proceed to take your time in the expansive refresher, washing your face, brushing your hair and cleaning your teeth with a kit of supplies you find in a drawer. You didn't know if the place came stocked like this or if Kylo had made arrangements ahead of time hoping that you would stay.

Your bedroom has the same floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean and the far shore. Gazing out, you let your mind wander, replaying the night. You know without a doubt that you can't possible walk away now. You need to know more about the Force. It is tempting to believe him but you don't really believe you have this sensitivity that Kylo seems so sure of. But...who are you to argue with a man who speaks telepathically and summons objects from across the room?

Those things were impossible to wrap your brain around. And then there was the fact that you were under the assault of super intense visceral reactions to being physically near a man you barely knew anything about. No one had ever made you feel this way. Picturing his face, your mind moves to the memory of having your arms wrapped around his massive torso, barely reaching to clasp your hands. You think of his oak and leather scent.

Without fully comprehending your actions, you feel yourself tracing your fingertips down your body, plunging them into the bottom half of your sleepwear until you are slowly and softly caressing yourself. You are wet and radiating excited heat. You know there is not a chance you will sleep tonight without doing something about the state you're in.

Moving over to the bed, you lie back and continue touching yourself. Flashes of his silky black hair, his hands, his eyes, are on rotation in your mind. You recall the sensation of his voice as it entered your mind and suddenly you are grabbing a pillow to press to your face, trying to muffle your cries of ecstasy.

Your mind goes blank, sparkling lights play across the edges of vision behind your eyelids. You feel the pulsing inside of you slow and let the satisfied relaxation wash over your body. All you can do now is hope you were quiet enough, hope that your lusting wasn't super obvious to him, before you climb between the sheets and drift off to sleep on cloud-like bedding.

Bliss.