Blood and Snow: A Reylo Smut Story

Then she releases him and slides down to place her feet on the floor. She takes a step back and looks at him. They are both flushed and breathing heavily.

"Get on your knees," she says.

He looks at her, panting, expectant. Slowly, he gets onto one knee, and then the other, and then he is kneeling before her, hands still bound behind his back.

She begins to remove her clothes, never taking her eyes off of him, as his gaze attentively follows her hands as they move about unfastening her garments. When she pulls the top of her garment off and her breasts are exposed, she feels herself flush deeply under his avid inspection. But she doesn't stop and soon she is fully undressed.

She approaches him once again, and leaning down over she grabs his head and presses his face to one of her breasts. His mouth quickly finds her nipple and the hot wet feel of his mouth on it pulls a sharp moan from her. He circles her nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently on it and she gasps.

Then she is pressing down on the top of his head, and complying he comes to sit on his feet as she presses his face between her legs. He inhales deeply and then he is kissing her thighs, teasing her as he slowly works his way to the middle. She is breathing wildly, her eyes pressed shut, every ounce of her focus on the slow trajectory of his mouth towards her most sensitive part. When he arrives she throws back her head with a cry as he delicately circles it with his tongue, then sucks gently. Her knees are weak with the pleasure of it, but she wants something more and suddenly she is ripping at his jump suit, pulling down the long single zipper on it, exposing first his chest and stomach, and finally, his undergarments which are tight with his erection.

Reaching into his underclothes she takes a firm grip of his hardness, and his eyes flutter closed for a second.

"You're a monster," she says, angry conflicted tears in her eyes.

"What does that make you?" he rebuts, looking at her challengingly, her fingers still coiled around his erection.

"No better," she says as she straddles him as he sits on his feet, and aggressively presses herself down upon him. It's too quick, even despite how wet she already is, and the sensation is half pleasure, half pain. They both shudder and close their eyes, savoring the sensation in stillness for a moment.

Then she begins to move, slowly at first, but with a gradually accelerating pace. She moves up and down, her thighs working to move her as she straddles him. The feeling of him inside of her, hard and delightful as she moves about him seems to awaken something in her. Her anger expands as she feels the tension growing within her body. She takes a fist of his hair at the back of his head and yanks backwards, his neck arching. Maintaining an increasingly unsteady rhythm she brings her mouth to his neck and bites him, hard. He flinches and she cannot see it, but his mouth twists into a cruel smile.

She can feel herself approaching the climax, and she moves her hand to stimulate herself as she continues to ride him, her other hand still tangled in his hair. Their eyes meet and the ferocity of his gaze at he stares at her with pain and hungry pleasure is the last ingredient that sends her hurtling over the edge.

"I hate you!" she cries out as she comes, and the rest is lost in incoherent moans.

Her climax triggers his and he tips his head back and mouths her name as he follows her into their mutual angsty oblivion, and the dream ends.

A sensation of splendor is in her limbs and she wakes as though she is floating, before reality sets in and brings with it its leaden weight of guilt and anger. Staring up at the ceiling above her bunk she catches her breath, waiting for her heart rate to slow. This dream was even more intense than usual. And different. She wonders, and is afraid of why.

"Rey," says Kylo's disembodied voice in her mind. He only says her name, but something in the tone inspires a fear within her that they shared the dream, that he was there in it with her, not just some figment of her imagination.

Though she has never swum in the ocean, she imagines that this is what it feels like to be thrown by a wave. Feelings of fear, horror, shame and desire all cascade within her, spinning her around and nearly crushing her. From Kylo she can sense a feeling of fear, smugness and loathing. This kindles anger within her. How dare he invade her mind in this way! Though she is far more hot with embarrassment than anything else.

Despite the fact that it is several hours before the standard wake cycle, she gets dressed and goes for a run to try and clear her thoughts.

Chapter 2: Into the storm.

The next day she is working, the torment of Kylo's presence heavy upon her, but she presses on, working quickly and efficiently as if to disprove any effect on her. The rest she got the night before was surprisingly refreshing, and she feels energized. She carefully avoids thinking about how the carnal pleasures of the night may have contributed to her day.

She is just finishing replacing a hyperdrive in a midsize cargo vessel when she feels it. The sensation coming from Kylo has been one of sullen anger up until now, and it has just transformed into a sense of wrathful glee, anticipation even. Knowing no good can come of this, she wipes grease from her hands on her coveralls and starts moving towards command at a fast walk. When the klaxons begin to sound she breaks into a run.

There is a general sense of confusion in the halls as she runs towards command. A pit of fear begins to form in her stomach, because she can also feel Kylo coming nearer. Could he be loose? she wonders, fear gripping her at the thought. She turns the next corner, and the last thing she sees before losing consciousness is Kylo standing in grey prisoner's coveralls with a hand extended towards her.

Waking slowly, unsure how much time has passed, she finds herself in the dimly lit confines of a small fighter ship. The controls at which Kylo is sitting and the stars of open space are the only lighting in the cabin. He faces away from her, motionless, looking out the viewscreen.

"You're awake," he says.

"Where are we?" she asks.

"You're my guest," he responds, a hint of amusement in his otherwise dark tone.

She grits her teeth at this, and elects not to speak further. She is lying on the floor in the one small space for cargo on this ship. Her hands are bound behind her back and her ankles are bound together. Her left shoulder has fallen asleep from lying on it. But she sees that under her head he left a rolled up scrap of fabric. She stares at it uncertainly, gritting her teeth.

To relieve her shoulder, she rolls onto her stomach and from there wriggles her way to sitting up on her feet. She rotates the joint of her shoulder, bringing a painful and tingling sensation back to it. Testing the bonds on her wrists she finds they have been tied skillfully, but not so tight that she will lose sensation in her hands, something for which she is grateful.

She considers what she should do.

"You can't expect to go far with this ship," she says. "It hasn't got enough fuel storage to travel for more than a day's time."

"That's accurate," he says, still not looking at her. "But we don't need to go very far."

"Why?"

He sits in silence for a moment, then turns to look at her. His face, his unusual beauty, hits her exactly as it did the first time she saw it. She feels powerlessness because she cannot restrain her desire for him, and it provokes her anger. She seethes at him.

"You still hate me," he says, staring at her openly.

The memory of the dream, and her acclamation of hatred right at the moment of her release, springs unbidden to her mind. She feels herself flush hot with embarrassment, but her anger remains. He turns away from her back to the control panel.

With her shoulder's sensation is restored, she sets about finding a more comfortable seated position, not an easy task with her bonds. Her legs bent she shifts to the side off her feet, and leans her other shoulder against a bulkhead. Unsure how to conceal her thoughts from him, she wants to think about a way to escape, but she worries he will simply pluck it from her mind as he did her island and her ocean. But not trying is as good as doing nothing. And if he is telling the truth that they don't have very far to go, this may be her only time to escape.

First she uses her ocean meditation to restore her calm. She imagines the waves, the cool blue-green of them and the frosty white of their foam as they crash on the beach of her island. The sounds of the waves and the cries of strange birds fill her mind until her heartbeat begins to slow and steady.

Then without opening her eyes she focuses on him. He is his usual sensation of black humor and smoldering rage, but threaded like veins of gold through rock is a feeling of excitement, anticipation. He too is trying to escape, and at this moment he imagines that his freedom is within his grasp. Reflexively, Rey feels a pang of compassion for him.

"Stop it," he says, turning his head slightly in her direction, but not actually looking at her. "Your softness is disgusting, don't direct it at me."

"You would rather have my anger then?" Rey snaps, the compassion evaporating instantly.

"Yes," he says flatly. "Your anger makes you strong."

There is an extended silence between them.

When it becomes apparent that he is going to remain silent, she directs her attention to the ship. It's a old discontinued model, a predecessor to a TIE fighter, and she has worked on some of them at the starbase. It has a limited hyperdrive, solartec nav and targeting system, and munitions for a variety of ranges. As she mentally reviews the specifications of the ship, she hits upon an idea.

Trying to stay cool and collected she remembers that this ship has a flaw. This particular model has a coupling of some weapons and drive systems, which was discovered to cause overloading and feedback. In some cases it could cause the drive systems to fail when the weaponry was fired in certain combinations, leaving the ship a sitting duck for attack. If she can exploit the flaw to disable the ship's drives, someone from the Republic might have a chance to catch up with them. It's worth a try. She is going to assume that he knows she is planning something, she just has to hope he can't find out the specifics without her realizing.

Quickly, she hops to her feet.

"Stay down," he says, his voice angry and imperious.

She takes a hop to cross the tiny space behind the pilot seat, moving towards the escape hatch. And she finds her body locked in place, Kylo imprisoning her with a Force hold.

"Subtlety is not your strong suit scavenger," he says turning to look at her.

As he looks away from the control panel, rather than attempting to fight him, she reaches out with the Force. Knowing the instrument panel by heart she finds the right buttons.

"What are you doing?" he asks in an angry growl, sensing that he has fallen for her decoy, but it is too late. She flicks off the safeties and depresses the triggers to fire the ruinous combination of munitions.

When the firing begins he releases his Force hold as he turns back to the instrument panel. She continues firing as long as she can, but she hits her head as she collapses and the firing stops. She holds her breath, waiting to see if she has succeeded, ignoring the pain in her head. The sound of the engines, a steady and soothing hum, slows and then stops. The sudden silence is deafening. Through her pain, she smiles.

"What did you DO?" shouts Kylo again, louder and more furious than before.

He steps around the pilot's chair and drags her roughly to her feet. He grabs her face with one hand while holding the fabric of her coveralls at the shoulder with the other. He looks at her wildly as he repeats the question, but she can't hear it. The Republic stripped him of his personal garments when they took him prisoner, so he is not wearing his characteristic black leather gloves. This means that not only is this the first time that she has felt him touch her in a waking moment, but that it is his bare skin against hers for the first time as his fingers hold her face. She feels herself flush at the contact and hates herself for it.

"Answer me!" he shouts.

She opens her mouth to speak when the console begins to emit a beeping noise and he sets her down quickly to inspect it, the movements of his body rigid with anger.

"Well, it looks like I won't have to kill you myself," he says acidly. "We're either going to die on impact or succumb to the elements."

"Impact with what?" asks Rey, frightened.

"Hoth," he says.

"Hoth," says Rey, focusing on the name. "The ice planet? Wasn't there an old rebel base there?"

He snorts derisively. "Yes," he says. "It's long abandoned."

"But we might be able to shelter there," she says. "If we survive impact."

"If," he says icily, punching buttons angrily on the control panel. "What did you do to the drives?"

When she is silent and he turns away from the controls to look at her sternly. She looks at him, but what she sees there makes her look away.

"I exploited a design flaw in this particular model," she says, refusing to meet his gaze. "Firing both long and short range amunitions simultaneously can generate an escalating feedback loop that cross-couples with the engines and fuses the hydropoles."

He balls up his hand and with a shout viciously punches the paneling next to the control console, then in a surprising transition says cooly, "So you can't fix it without new parts."

"Correct," she says hesitantly, afraid. "But the attitude adjustment thrusters should still be operational. If we can locate the base we can aim for a nearby landing. There might be parts, or another reparable ship there."

With another yell he rises from the pilot's seat and proceeds to pound the paneling adjacent to the pilot's seat aggressively with bare fists until it is shattered and his knuckles run red. Rey doesn't move from where she stands with her bound ankles, trying to keep from shaking, feeling the waves of fury roll off him like heat from a fire. Eventually, the heat begins to subside to a smolder instead of a blaze, and he catches his breath as he examines his hands indifferently. Then he steps close to Rey, and taking hold of her chin with bloody fingers, brings his face close to hers.

"Do not give me any more trouble," he says in a low threatening tone. "I will kill you without hesitation if you do anything like this again." He pauses for a moment, his gaze boring into hers. "But, we will go and scavenge," he says the last word with emphatic distaste, "if we survive the landing. And you will be predictable, and well behaved, or I will conclude you aren't worth the trouble. Do you understand, scavenger?"

"I understand," she says, a smear of his blood on her cheek, and she believes him. There is no doubt in her mind that he will make good on his threat. But it will not stop her from escaping if she thinks she has a chance; a chance that she's willing to gamble her life on.

"Good," he says, and moves away to the console.

They have less than an hour to wait on their spiral descent, but that gives him time to locate the remains of the Rebel base on the ship's scanners, or at least what he thinks is the base. Working intently at the console, he plans a deorbiting trajectory that should bring them near the base. Rey wishes that she could see his work, but knows not to interfere.

When he is done he stands from the console, and produces a knife. Reys heart stops as he approaches her. But he kneels before her, his eyes locked on her face and she swallows hard, looking away as he cuts the binding on her ankles, then stands to free her wrists. She rubs and rotates her wrists and ankles where the ties held her.

He hands her a crash suit, which looks like a filmy jumpsuit with a hood, but will inflate and form a giant nearly indestructible bubble around her, hopefully enabling her to survive the landing. He puts one on as well and returns to the pilot's chair to make final adjustments as they burn through the atmosphere.

"How are we going to get to the base?" she asks.

"We'll walk," he says, not looking away from the controls.

"No, how will we navigate," she says. "In all that snow?"

"I have the coordinates," he says, and holds up a small nav device. "This will store the location of the base and our relative position from the ship's computer just before impact. Which is," he says, making a few final key strokes, "in about two minutes."

He steps away from the console and pockets the device carefully. Instead of inflating his suit immediately, he moves towards her. She stands frozen, uncertain, and he raises his hand slowly to her face. He inspects where she hit her head when she fell delicately. Then he rubs her cheek where he left the smear of blood. Rey feels as though her blood is boiling in her veins, and she begins to tremble. Then he takes hold of her chin between his thumb and his fingers, and looking her in the eye firmly, he tips her head back and kisses her.

Rey feels the same confusing maelstrom of emotions she always does when it comes to Kylo Ren. He's a murderer and has threatened to kill her, and her hatred for him burns within her, unquenchable. But what she cannot control is the way her pulse accelerates when she feels his mouth against hers, and the loathing that floods her for it. She can see in her mind's eye the frozen hell of Hoth as it rises up to meet them at terminal velocity, knowing these may be her last moments alive, and yet her eyes flutter closed. She yields to her desire, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him back like she is taking long draughts of cool water, his strong hands in her hair and the smell of him encompassing her.

A warning sound starts to blare from the instrument panel and he pulls away.

"Ten seconds until impact," he says, breaking away. "Inflate your suit."

They step away from each other and then each is encapsulated suddenly as the suits inflate themselves into sturdy opaque bubbles, cocooning them for high impact. Impact comes and Rey feels as though she is a the center of a tornado, thrown and spun about circling wildly. She lets loose a scream into the chaos of noise and rending metal.

It only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity as she is spun end over end and bashed, a few of the bubble's pockets bursting and her shoulder taking a blow. When the whirlwind stops she lays still for a moment to allow the world to stop spinning and to make an assessment of her body. She can't see her shoulder well, but it seems like a flesh wound and not too deep from what she can tell of the pain. It will need a bandage, but other than that it seems she is unharmed. Impressive for a free-fall landing through atmosphere. Kylo must be a talented pilot, or very very lucky. Or both.

She depresses the deflate button on the suit, it sucks back to fit to her body as best as possible, the burst pockets causing loose and shredded bits to hang here and there. Rolling over she heaves the contents of her stomach into the snow. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she looks around. She is free of the ship. The sun is up above the horizon. She is uncertain of the planet's cycle, but she guesses they have about four hours of daylight. There is a light snow falling and very little wind. But it is very cold, she can already feel it soaking through the suit. They need to get moving quickly.

The main wreckage of the ship isn't far from her, she's only been thrown about a hundred meters or so, but trudging through the deep snow on foot is difficult. Fortunately the struggle warms her some, but her hands are bitterly cold and she has to retract them into the sleeves of the suit to keep them sheltered.