Threads of Silver

Sheets

You didn't move, suddenly very aware that you were, just moments ago, completely stark naked and in his full view. 

The cigarette glistened again with a heavy inhale, before it was brought down to the arm of the chair, burning angrily. 

"If I had expected more of you, I might have been offended by your... indecency in my presence." A low baritone, clear as night, came from his shadowed form, and you thanked the gods for the dim light- your cheeks were scarlet. His voice was completely natural, he sounded like a normal man. This took you by surprise... but, it made sense. Men were often the worst kind of monsters. 

"I didn't know you were in here, sir." You said quietly, hating the submissiveness in your tone. Instead, you found your mantra through gritted teeth. 

Play his game.  

Play his game.

Play. His. Game. 

"Either you are an absolutely ignorant..."The glow of the cigarette was killed into an ashtray on a side table nearest the chair with a hiss, "...or just hopelessly foolish." 

"I apologize." You said, barely audible, and suddenly very aware of your hands, nervously wringing them. He stood from his chair, his ginormous silhouette still encased in shadowed velvet, and took a step forward, the tips of his boots revealed in the light. Your breath hitched as you tried to steady yourself. Why were you so affected by him?

"Do you think teasing me is going to save you? Stripping in front of me? " His voice was deep, sharp, and stung you deep.

"Excuse me?!" You faltered, sputtering. "Absolutely not, I'm not-"

"I will not be seduced." He said, raising the volume of his voice slightly, cutting you off quickly. You were too offended to notice he didn't use the Force to silence you. "How long we let you live is not something that can be bargained for with your... body." He scoffed before continuing. "These are my chambers. Expect me to be here. Always. "

You bit the inside of your cheeks to pinch back the sting in your eyes. You had never been spoken to like this before. Regardless, you nodded. Lowering your gaze. You could feel yourself shaking from holding back your tongue.

He didn't move for a moment, no doubt assessing you, absorbing your slight submissiveness. In a stealthy movement, he moved to the small kitchen area, suddenly his back to you. You didn't catch his face just yet, but instead found yourself astounded at his dark, raven hair. Monsters have hair, too, you guessed. It caught in the dim light, dark and sinful like licorice. It was wavy, slightly curly, falling to his shoulders. Wild and unpredictable. How fitting. 

You remained where you were, watching his hand find a glass and a bottle of blood red wine. He began to pour an almost-full glass, before turning to directly face you. 

You tried to maintain an emotionless expression, but that was all but slapped off of you as you felt a breath leave you.

He was no monster. 

Deep brown, almost onyx eyes bore into yours, pinning you like needles. A strong, Greek nose led down to full lips, pressed into an un-approving grimace. Pale, snowy skin dotted with freckles, framed by ebony. Heavy eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his expression seemed unmoving. 

His dark eyes, however. They were scanning you. Trying to read your reaction to his appearance. 

You were sure you were perfectly easy to read in this case- by gods, he was handsome. You had created a disfigured, ugly being that had to hide his horrendous face under that helmet. But this.... this was beyond you. You quickly gathered yourself, remembering that this man, literally just moments ago, reminded you that your life was limited, here. 

The string that lay within your chest awakened, as if being moved by a warm breeze, sending deep vibrations in wake through your limbs. 

His large hands, pale and firm, grasped the delicate neck of the wine glass. It seemed with a shift of his fingers he could easily shatter it in half, even without the Force. Something fell across his gaze, and after a moment he broke eye-contact, bringing the thin glass to his lips. 

You swallowed, watching the crimson liquid seep through his lips as he pushed himself off the counter, striding over to you. You almost wished that he would put that damned helmet back on- he was somehow even more intimidating without it. You tensed, expecting the worst. But instead, he found a seat on the leather couch, pulling a cigarette out of a front pocket and placing it between his lips, letting it hang lowly as he adjusted himself. He sent a sharp glare sideways towards you. 

"I... I didn't know you smoked, Commander." You spoke, a pathetic attempt to break the heavy silence. You didn't dare ask for one, but Gods alive, you'd kill for a hit of that nicotine. Something to calm your nerves.

He didn't respond, casually flicking his hand over the end of the cigarette, suddenly lighting it. A deep drag, the tip glowing bright orange. He held it in his lungs, within his impossibly large chest, and turned to face you as he slowly exhaled through his nostrils, smoke billowing out in smoky waterfalls. He sucked in air and smoke quickly through his mouth, inhaling from the flumes pouring out his nose.

"You will be staying in here. Clearly, you need to be kept an eye on." He took another sip, his hand holding both the glass and the cigarette. You had glanced around the room enough to see only one bed.

"I don't-"

"Again." He said sharply, irritated. "This is not a fucking negotiation." 

You quietened, biting your tongue. Hard enough to taste blood. 

He stood suddenly, aggressively, still holding his substances. "Is there a problem?" You knew this was rhetorical, and felt there was no need to argue. But your ever-bruising pride was turning quickly into anger.

"I will not sleep with you." You said, trying not to make your brewing fury bubble over. You had to pick your fights, and you felt validated with this one. 

 He scoffed, glancing up and down at you. It hurt. "You will not be bothered."

Before you could protest, he raised a hand and strode to the kitchenette to refill his glass. "You will sleep in the bed. Alone." He made sure to emphasize the last word. You gulped, but nodded. Somewhat satisfied with this response. He motioned to the couch, signifying that is where he will be. You felt a blush- the idea of sleeping in his bed, even if it were alone,  was making you sweat.

"Go- get some rest." You glanced up at him. His tone was cold, but the somewhat thoughtful gesture threw you off. 

He glared at you from under furrowed brow, finishing off his wine and taking a final inhale, ending the life of the cigarette.

"Tomorrow we begin."

You didn't want to know what that meant, nor did you press this any further, and instead slowly convinced your legs to carry you to the deep , sinful-velvet bed. It felt... awkward. Running a hand over the comforters, you realized you  had never had such expensive, luxurious sheets to sleep in, none the less a bed bigger than a small bunk. This was huge- enough to fit four men the size of The Commander. Carefully, as if the fine threads may rip at your ugly touch like wet paper, you pulled the sheets back just enough at the corner, and glanced back at him. 

He sat on the couch, his back to you, silent as death, raven hair falling just so, smoke swirling above his head. 

The lights were already dim, and as you slid yourself between the cool, dark sheets, you somehow felt your eyes grow heavy. How did your body feel at ease enough to feel sleepy- especially when your captor sat happily smoking on the other side of the room?

You fought sleep as long as you could, laying between the heavy comforter, the scent of oak and mint interwoven between the threads. The darkness of the room, the softness of the mattress, the fineness of the threads- all these things that your body hadn't experienced in so, so so long, and the hum of the string within your chest- all contributed to your heavy eyes. You kept your gaze on the back of his head, watching the twirls of smoke dance up to the ceiling, in an odd way to count sheep to fall asleep.

Before long, you were too exhausted to stay alert and awake. You were out.

Completely at his mercy.