Blood and Snow: A Reylo Smut Story

"I don't want to know the dark side," she says, small radiant tears forming in her eyes. "I don't-"

They have arrived back at their temporary living quarters and he sets her down at the door, interrupting her. He drops the bag and grabs her face possessively, kissing her. Tears stream down her face as wraps her arms around him, pressing him to her. He pushes her up against the door, trapping her between it and his body as their mouths lock together in a hot wet kiss that holds all the promise of what is to come.

After a moment he yanks the door open forcefully and ushers her inside, slamming the door behind him. He looks fierce and wild, and she feels both aroused and frightened at the sight of him. She has an impulse to try to run away, and he twitches a brief sardonic smile.

"You wouldn't get very far," he says in a growl, shifting his body weight subtly as though preparing to pounce. Goose bumps spring up on her skin.

"You're not good for me," she says, her cheeks damp with tears. "This will only end in ruin."

"On the contrary," he says, approaching her now and towering over her. "I'm trying to set you free."

He strips off his gloves and caresses her face, gently, affectionately even. Surprised at this tender gesture, and she blushes and turns her face away.

"And everything," he whispers into her exposed ear seductively, "everything always ends in ruin."

As he says it he reaches up to wrap his fingers around her throat.

It frightens her and she tries to move away, but he grabs her upper arm with his other hand and keeps her close. His grip on her throat is firm, but not choking as he leans down to kiss her. She is angry at being frightened and bites his lower lip. He grunts and pulls his face away, but does not let go of her. He licks his lip and she can see that she has drawn blood.

"You are a savage little desert creature, scavenger," he says, his voice husky. "But I suppose it's only fair, blood for blood."

She feels herself tremble at his words.

"My savage desert creature," he says, his voice low.

There is a heat to his voice, and in that moment she can see what he sees; the two of them bound together in darkness, all powerful, none in the galaxy more feared, savagely indulging themselves with their slain enemies at their feet. She knows this is what he wants, and this is where the path of yielding to him leads. A shiver of fear runs through her because she feels the temptation to embrace the darkness. It is seductive, and calling to her, just as he is. She knows then that she must escape him or she will suffer the fate that he has planned for her. It will only be a matter of time until resisting the darkness will become as impossible as resisting him.

"I will never be yours," she says fiercely, in defiance of him and this potential future.

"You will be tonight," he says with heat, and this time when he kisses her, forcefully and with ire, she can't help but respond in kind.

They strip off their cold weather gear in a frenzy. Grabbing his shoulders she pulls herself up to wrap her legs around his waist, her ankles hooked in the small of his back as he stands. He holds her, a hand on her back and the other on her backside, as she fondly and aggressively tangles her fingers in his hair, her elbows resting on his shoulders forcing his head back to kiss her. He moves to a wall and leans her back against it, leaning his weight into her. He grinds his hips against her and she arches her head back in response, savoring the sensation. When she exposes her throat he brings his mouth there and she gasps. She is lost to the intensity of the sensations of his mouth on her skin as he continues his grind.

Soon, he becomes impatient and sets her down. His hands begin to undo her garments when she stops him.

"No," she says, grabbing at his wrists.

"What?" he says, affronted.

"Stop," she says.

His eyes narrow as he searches her face, angry.

"Sit," she says, indicating his sleeping mat.

He hesitates for a moment, bristling at the command, then with suspicion, complies, moving to sit on the mat, watching her. She can feel his impatience, his need, and it sends a shiver down her spine in anticipation.

Standing outside of arm's reach, she begins slowly to undress. First her shirt, then her undergarment, carelessly dropping them on the floor next to her. Once her breasts are bare, she runs her fingers over them, pinching her hardened nipples, then caressing her stomach with flattened palms, watching him. The look on his face sets her on fire, and she keeps going, feeling daring. She works the fastener of her pants and lets them drop to the ground. Running her fingers over her thighs, she brings a hand between her legs and touches herself over her underwear, her other hand gripping one of her breasts.

She is about to remove her underwear when his control is exhausted and he grabs her, pulling her down to mat with him, and rolling on top of her. His body weight pressing her into the mat is the entire world for her in that moment, all else is forgotten. She shudders as he kisses her, touches her. She wants him now, with a desperation and a hunger more intense that she has ever known.

"Take me," she says. "Take me, please."

He allows himself a predacious smile as he disrobes. She sits up to caress his chest, running her tongue over his skin as he works on his garments which he discards with disdain. He pushes her back to the mat and pulls her underwear free. But instead of entering her, he straddles her and pins her hands above her head. She is puzzled and a pout forms on her lips.

"Ah, you think teasing doesn't go both ways?" he asks bringing his face close to hers, his breath tickling her skin.

When she tries to kiss him he moves away, just out of reach. Infuriated she begins to writhe in his grasp. When she cannot free her arms she plants her feet and thrusts with her hips trying to throw him off of her, but she cannot unseat him without risking her ankle. He brings both her wrists together and holds them in a single hand above her head, bringing the other to her breast where he rolls her nipple between his fingers. She arches her back into his hand, closing her eyes. When he stops, she begins to struggle again.

"Do you want something?" he asks, leaning down to sink his teeth into her shoulder, making her cry out in both pain and pleasure.

"You know what I want," she says breathless, but stubborn. "Do it."

But he won't let her up, and so she struggles further. Her whole body is flushed. Her eyes are bright and wild, her mouth a crimson red, and there is a hot blush across her cheeks. Finally she lets free a cry of frustration and bares her teeth as she slumps back, panting.

"My savage desert creature," he says darkly, but there is a hint of possessive pride in his voice. "Stay," he says seriously, looking at her until she gives a nod of assent, then releases her hands, which she does not move.

He begins kissing a slow trail from her breasts downwards to her navel. She sucks in air between her teeth, making first low soft noises, their intensity increasing as he moves lower. He continues down her belly to her hip, and then her inner thigh. Her sounds become hungrier, and she is increasingly aware of the slowly closing distance between his mouth and the place where her legs meet.

When he moves his wet kisses from one thigh to the other, passing over what is in between, she whimpers impatiently. Finally defying him, she moves her arms from above her head and sinks her fingers into the wild mane of his hair. She attempts to pull his face to the middle. She can feel his grin against her skin as he slips two fingers inside of her, and she arches her head back letting out a cry.

"Yes," she says, "Oh please, yes."

He brings his mouth finally to her clitoris, and the hot wetness of it makes her freeze, tensing her body all over, and she feels as though time itself is standing still. Then she begins to moan, a wild lost sound as he runs his tongue over her, his fingers moving in tandem. She keeps one hand buried in his hair, and with the other hand grabs one of her breasts, squeezing it and rolling the nipple between her fingers. He stays there, feeling the tension build in her, increasing his intensity to match her, winding her like a spring.

She is completely lost in the sensation, and there is nothing beyond the articulations of his mouth and the stroking of his fingers. She lifts her head to look at him, this terrifying violent man who is capable of provoking such sensations in her, and she comes forcefully, wild incoherent cries escaping her as her body twitches like a marionette under his caresses. It is a long violent climax, and he does not let up until he is certain the last of it has been wrung from her.

As she lies limp on her back, he moves to kneel on her chest. Her eyes go wide when she understands what he wants.

"Open your mouth, savage," he says, taking hold of his erection, pressing it between her breasts.

For a moment she hesitates, then she parts her lips and takes him into her mouth, running her tongue over and around him. Her arms are pinned inside his legs, and he takes a hold of her hair, directing her movements now as he moves her mouth up and down on his erection. She is revolted and aroused, helpless as he slides himself in and out of her mouth. He goes deep then and she gags, sputtering. He grins darkly, but desists.

Shifting himself between her legs, he takes hold of his erection and thrusts inside of her aggressively. She lets out with a low throaty moan, wildly aroused but still partially immobilized from her last climax. He leans forward, and pressing his chest against hers, kisses her. She can smell herself on him and the slick movement of him inside her is an intense and delicious torture. She abandons herself to sensation, moaning into his kiss, thinking of him kneeling on top of her.

The feeling of being helplessly in his possession gives her a savage sense of arousal. As he continues, she begins to let out sharp cries of ecstasy, savoring each blow as he begins to pound her at a rapid and voracious pace. She wraps her legs around him so that with each thrust his pubic bone grinds against her clitoris, and she surprises them both by coming very quickly. It sneaks up on her almost, and then she feels as though she is exploding, her body moving spasmodically. She can hear herself crying his name, as though she is someone else, as she arches wildly underneath him, raking her nails cruelly down his back.

When she goes limp he slows his pace, but he doesn't stop. She looks up at him, shuddering, but still hungry for him.

"More," she says, though she can hardly control her own lips to utter the words.

"Greedy," he says, but his says it with pleasure. "Greedy and savage."

He sits up to come to a kneeling position, planting her feet on the mat on either side of him. Placing a hand on each of her knees, he uses them as leverage for his thrusts, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opens his eyes their gazes meet and she is at once exhilarated and embarrassed, but the pleasure of her body overwhelms any feeling of shame. Their eyes are locked while he thrusts, and she lets her gaze travel down to his torso, the well defined muscles of his stomach contracting as he moves rhythmically.

Running her fingers between her thighs she begins to stimulate herself, not taking her eyes off of him. His gaze travels over her body as he continues to move. It's not long before she is getting close again, and she feels as though every part of her body is tensing in anticipation. He can feel it and he begins to accelerate, her body quaking with every merciless impact. And then the dam bursts and she is shuddering again, crying out, feeling as though the orgasm is a tidal wave, leaving her tumbling through space.

She is limp again, twitching occasionally and breathing unevenly. After watching her face for a moment, paralyzed and completely vulnerable, he rolls her unresisting body over onto her belly. She says nothing, lost in a post-climactic haze. She knows then that there is nothing she won't let him do to her.

"I want one more from you," he says, spreading her legs into a v shape.

She lets out an incoherent moan that trails off sleepily, but when he puts two fingers inside of her she responds by grinding her hips into his hand.

"One more," he says again, with hungry intensity.

With a low moan, she struggles to turn her head and look at him over her shoulder. Their eyes are locked as he moves to lie on top of her and slides his erection inside of her. His body is stretched out on top of hers, his chest on her back. He slides each of his hands underneath her shoulders, his fingers reaching around to grip her, holding her in place as he moves his hips, sliding in and out of her, overwhelmed by the wetness of her and the feel of her small taught body underneath him.

Her eyes are squeezed shut, and all she can focus on is the sensation of him, hard and filling, moving inside her. She presses her face into the bedding and moans, screams, calling his name and making incoherent statements. He buries his face in her hair and breathes deeply, forcing himself to keep a steady pace, wanting to draw out the sensation as long as possible. But the hunger has awakened inside of her again and she wants him to go faster, wants him to push her over the edge again.

"Harder," she whispers, "harder."

"Glutton," he replies in a smug accusatory tone, defiantly maintaining his slow steady rhythm.

"Please," she says. "Oh please, please."

He bites her ear and she cries out fiercely.

"I love it when you beg me," he says, heat in his voice as he whispers in her ear.

"Please," she says. "Please!"

He lifts himself onto his hands, arching his back and begins to make hard aggressive thrusts into her. She is digging her fingers into the bedding and letting loose wild cries at every impact. He looks at her, her lean muscular back, the way she arches the lower part of it to bring her hips meet him. And he feels himself gathering momentum. She snakes a hand underneath herself to reach between her legs. He holds on as long as he can, pounding her ruthlessly, and she comes again, her moans escaping into the bedding, long and wild. He feels her tight and contracting around him and he comes just after her, his brows knitting together in concentration, lips parted. She hears him let out a broken cry and then shuddering violently he mouths her name and collapses on top of her.

She is paralyzed, floating in the sensation of completeness that she feels, unable to respond even if the ceiling were to begin caving in. He rolls off of her and pulls the covers loose. Then rolling her onto her side, he pulls the covers over them and presses her back against him, cupping his body around hers. Rey lets out a soft sigh of satisfaction, and they fall asleep.

Chapter 6: Patterns.

Rey wakes in the morning to find Kylo's body still wrapped around hers, and before she is truly conscious, she lets out another sigh of contentment. Then, becoming more alert she blinks, a cloud passing over her features. A pang, a fear, remorse. They clutch at her heart. What is happening? What is she becoming? An overwhelming desire to weep comes over her. She feels trapped and she squeezes her eyes shut in pain.

After a moment she smooths her face, a look of determination coming to it. If she is trapped, the only thing she can do is fix the ship. With her jaw set, she peels herself free of her lover's grasp, though her mind recoils at the thought of him as such. Her movement wakes him, but he says nothing and she goes about the business of melting water for breakfast and for bathing. They eat, clean themselves, and dress in silence. Rey is trying to focus all her mental energy on plans for the ship. She is uncertain how to interpret the subdued emotional chaos coming from Kylo, but tries not to think too hard on it.

Still having exchanged no words they head out to the ships, Kylo carrying Rey's satchel of tools.

"Today will be more diagnostics," she says. "I'll see if I can find anything that will eliminate one ship or the other. Can you use a Hensler phase driver?"

"Yes," he says.

"Good," she says. "Can you test the hydropoles and phase motivators in each ship?" She looks at him fearfully, unsure how he will take direction from her, his hostage. But no outburst is forthcoming.

"Yes," he says succinctly, setting down the satchel and reaching in to extract the driver. He walks away without a glance, heading to the further ship with the tool. She watches him, befuddled and relieved.

By the end of the day, they choose the ship on which to concentrate. While both ships seemed quite promising, one possessed more extensive electrical wiring issues, which, while not insurmountable, would be time consuming to resolve. Because the two ships are of similar manufacture, the discarded one will act as a parts donor.

Wrapping up at the end of the day, Rey leaves the tools in the ship and climbs down gingerly. Her ankle, while improved, is still tender. As they begin to walk back to their quarters, Kylo reaches for her, and she flinches away. All afternoon she has been trying to figure out how to avoid ending up in bed with him again, and so her reaction is abrupt. She feels his anger flare immediately, the hot rage he always carries flaring brightly in his dark eyes. Then without a word he storms off ahead of her, leaving her to walk back slowly on her own.

She stops to watch him as he recedes into the distance and goes out of sight. Taking deep breaths of the cold air, she feels herself tremble. Fear, she feels so afraid. She longs for comfort, for someone to soothe her and tell her everything is going to be alright. She thinks of Leia, of how she longs to be embraced by her, or by Finn. She thinks of Finn and Poe, bantering loosely at the dining table in the canteen, and how it felt to be accepted by them. What she would give to be back with them, with the only friends she's ever known.

Warmth. What she wants is warmth. She shivers in the cold abandoned hangar. There is physical warmth waiting for her back in the sleeping quarters, and a dark sort of comfort. But warmth, human warmth? She shakes her head. Kylo is many things, and he has at moments displayed not just lust, but affection. But he has also abducted, hurt, and threatened her. And she has seen first hand the kind of violence he can commit against those he should be most bound to by love. She might fear his affection more than his anger, having seen how he responds to those that inspire it in him.

Sighing, she resumes her trek back to quarters, setting her jaw defiantly against her emotions. She has known loneliness most of her life. This is just another challenge she will have to overcome, and she is nothing if not resourceful and determined. And though she does not know it, or wish to admit it to herself, she would rather be here with Kylo than totally alone.

He is already eating when she arrives, and says nothing when she enters. The bright anger in him is burning down. But for the first night since they arrived, they settle in for the night on separate mats. Tucking into her blankets, Rey feels the urge to get up and go to him, but she resists. Lying on her side, her back to him, the heater between them as the fire was on the first night, she fights the urge to weep. She feels his irritation, probably at her soft emotions, but marbled within it is a hint, a vein, of compassion. Exhausted, she grasps at it like a thread, and holding it, falls asleep. And she does not dream.

In the morning she wakes to him returning with a bucket of snow to melt. Sleep was not kind to her, she feels groggy and unrested. Sitting up she scrunches her face and stiffly stands up from her mat.