Twenty-One

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A thud wakes you. You blink several times, confused as to why you are on the sofa. Rubbing your eyes, you squint against the glaring reflection of the sunrise on the pool. You see a bottle of ink lying on the rug. Your eyes move to the drawing you had started in the middle of the night. You remember tiptoeing out of the bedroom, stepping over the debris in the kitchen, the aftermath of the blaster shot. You descended the steps to the cavern to check on your prisoner. He was still unconscious, tethered to the Silencer's landing gear. You placed a glass of water next to him within arms reach. Grappling with the fact that you had rendered him unconscious, that this was something you are now capable of, you had shivered in the dark.

In a vain attempt to distract yourself, you fetched ink and a pad deciding to address the urge to put down on paper what you had witnessed transpire between Rey and Kylo last night. You felt like an artist historian as you sketched their faces, attempting to capture the depth of the revelations and catharsis that you had witnessed. As you drew, you contemplated the fact that the vast majority of the galaxy will probably never know their story. They won't know of the fascinating aberration of their Force Dyad and the enormous turning of the tide resulting from that connection.

As you worked at your drawing, your mind kept returning to Kylo's analysis of the Grey. Nature, the universe, sentient beings, none of it had ever seemed very balanced to you, why should the Force be? It's something you had been rolling around in your mind since learning his identity. This was something that had solidified in you on the day you had woken up to a reflection that included a streak of white hair framing your face. It was the physical manifestation of your trauma, resilience, and of your humanity. Killing had not caused you to perish or lose yourself. It had instead become a cornerstone of the expanding foundation that housed your soul. A house haunted by the desire to grow your own power. Choices brought you here but you marvel at the inexplicable feeling of inevitability that swirls around them.

You stare at the drawing for a few more moments. It's a good start, a study for a piece that you would later create. Satisfied, you roll it up and tie a piece of string around it. You're packing up the rest of your supplies when Kylo enters the room.

"Have you been up all night?"

"Basically," you answer.

He walks over and sits next to you. He's wearing a cotton shirt and underwear. Your eyes wander the soft dark hair covering his thighs, following a trail of moles. He reaches out and takes your hand, turning it over to study all of the ink stains on your skin before kissing your knuckles softly. You lean back watching him and when his eyes meet yours you feel that intoxicating combination of soft and hard, sweet and cutting. He leans forward and briefly presses his lips to yours.

"We should talk about..."

He stops mid-sentence, hesitating. You know he doesn't know how to talk about all of the feelings that are passing between you, the three of you. You know he's afraid of what this relationship is becoming, afraid to talk about it because it might break the spell. You know he feels this way, because you feel it too.

"Yes," you say, opening your eyes to study him. "Kylo, I... being with you... it's everything to me. From the moment we met, I was a lost cause."

Shrugging off your insecurities, you continue.

"My feelings for you haven't changed since Rey showed up. Only now... I care for her and..."

You force yourself not to look away.

"It's strange but it feels like she's always been here with us."

You see something flash behind his eyes. Instead of answering you with words, he sends you a slideshow from his mind just like he did that day at the Cherchant, the day he asked you to come stay with him. He shows you flashes of the three of you training together, laughing, arguing, and sitting quietly. Next, he shows you moments of passion and intensity, domination, role-play, soft lovemaking... all of the possibilities of immense pleasure that could be.

Cherchant (Kylo Ren x Reader)Where stories live. Discover now