Swallow the Light

By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)

Author's Note: A little outtake from the Kylo Ren/Rey interrogation scene, obviously TFA spoilers. Oh god, please don't let them be related. Well... wouldn't be the first time we saw something like that in Star Wars, lol.

Author's Note 2: Yes, I loved Han as much as any fan did. But Ren is so fascinating, such a human character, I can't help but be instantly obsessed. His instability, his juvenile rages counterbalanced with moments of calm, terrifying power... he is everything Anakin should have been. I can't help but write about him. Let's not even talk about that outfit. OK, I'm done now. Breathe, girl, breathe.

Rating: Y'all know I'm always rated M for imMature.

A creature in a mask, she calls him. He raises his hands to remove it, at first without even meaning to. He pauses, thinks. Everything now has to be thought out, planned. Nothing must be left to chance, lest he slip and let the light in.

I'm doing this to gain her trust, to lull her into a false sense of security, he reasons with himself... not because I'm offended. He takes off the scratched, dented mask. If he took joy in anything, it would be this, his grandfather's legacy. He is bare to her now, shaking out his long hair, staring her in the eyes, watching for a change in her expression. See? I'm human. Like you.

But her face gives him nothing. Still a monster, then.

He stalks around her, tendrils of his power probing the pool of fear and anger that washes over her. In his Force-attuned mind, she is ablaze. Almost too much for him to look at directly.

What the hell are you? he wonders.

Rey stares at him, trying not to give away how surprised she is at his appearance. After watching his nightmarish shadow rise from the mist, seeing him stalk her like a predator in the forest, she hadn't even expected to live this long. Now, face to face with the monster, the High Inquisitor of the First Order, she is prepared for the worst. A scarred, cruel face behind a scarred, cruel mask. But when he removes it, she holds her breath.

He is so young. Oh gods, he can't be much older than Rey herself.

She knows he is older than he looks; she'd heard stories about him when she was still a teenager on Jakku. Still, there can be no more than ten years between them, and his face doesn't even show that. It is still rounded, somehow soft, more like a boy than a man. With one exception: his haunted eyes, framed by jet black hair. Dark, full of grief and hate. Broken eyes. Her insides jump when their gazes lock. Rey isn't sure what it is- recognition, fear, curiosity. Perhaps all three.

She scans him over. The only weapon she sees is the lightsaber, and she is partly relieved because it's not really a weapon of torture. She hopes.

He stands up and walks to her, a dark stain in the cold, industrial room. He is wiry and tall, and the cloak makes him seem bigger than he is. He regards her with a outward sneer, but also seems to look so curiously, so deeply into her, as if he is trying to see through her and into the wall. She feels a pressure in her mind, and something inside her flexes in response.

He is testing you, child. Fight him. Stay alive.

She clearly doesn't know her own power, he decides. It is bubbling out of her, completely unfocused, even worse than the maelstrom in his own head. He concentrates on their conversation, on the map to Skywalker, but the pulsating flame is hard to ignore. Despite her inexperience, he knows that she is dangerous. Not just to the First Order, but to him. Dangerous, because she could set alight the carefully cultivated darkness in his heart. It shrinks away from her, and he hates this moment of weakness. He is no dog, to cower before some scavenger scum.

He decides to kill her once he is done with the interrogation.

A nagging little voice in his head says, You won't go through with it.

And he doesn't. He cannot, not after she fights back against his mind intrusion.

He flees.

Rey pants with exertion when he is gone. Her mind tries to separate out her own fears from his; for a moment, as they were fighting in the landscape of her mind, she was unsure which one of them was more afraid of the other, where one of them ended and the other began. If these are the ways of the Force, she thinks, then she has much to learn. Perhaps she can stay alive long enough to do that.

Something else scratches at the back of her mind, too. The way he looked at her just before he left. So angry, so close. His eyes had darkened in a way Rey had seen before, in the eyes of men at Jakku, though never directed at her. It was a hungry look, waiting for the last string to snap. For a moment, she had been afraid he would kiss her. Against her will, a heat rises to her cheeks. She wonders if his lips are soft, if his skin is as hot as his temper, if she could make his voice tremble. And somewhere else, deeper in her core, an emptiness begs to be filled. How would it feel if he-

Rey scowls, slamming her mind shut. She doesn't understand this, she has never bedded a man and certainly she is not, NOT thinking of this homicidal lunatic in that way. Clearly a stupid thought to be having now, even with all the strange things that have occurred today. And Rey is nothing if not practical. She shakes the strange feeling away before beginning to test her restraints.

She turns her head slightly, and notices a stormtrooper in the hall.

Hmmm.

It should scare him, to have his prisoner turn the tables on him. Safely back in his quarters down the hall, he shudders, but not out of fear. His whole body is thrumming with the power of her reciprocal invasion. He feels drunk, though he hasn't taken liquor in years. This scavenger girl, she could be... she could be...

...Mine.

He shakes his head. No, not his. But she could be useful to Snoke. Perhaps she could be turned, forged, corrupted.

But no. There are only two Sith. Master and Apprentice.

The nagging voice comes back. Indeed, it says. There can only be two. Why not you and this girl? You could train her. You could do better than Snoke, couldn't you? You're Kylo Ren, Vader's grandson, bound for glory. Aren't you?

He breathes deeply, considering the thought. Could this be the light again, tempting him? Tricking him into mercy, into letting this girl live under the guise of her potential?

He punches the wall so hard he leaves a dent in the durasteel. The pain is good. It helps him concentrate during times when he cannot trust his own senses.

I should go back into that room and strangle her, he thinks savagely, and watch the light go out.

But he finds himself unable to make a single step out of his quarters. Because he knows that if he enters that room again, things might not go the way he wants. He sees it in his mind now, watches it play out.

The hiss of the door as it slides shut. Her eyes widening with realization of her impending doom. She cries out, the surge of power hitting him like a wave. Her last, desperate attempt to cling to life.

But the Force is a strange thing, and he is not yet fully trained. His rages are many, and he envies Vader's legendary ability to keep calm. He may not be so calm when he watches her die. The thoughts spring up in his head, unbidden, brought to him by some demon because this can't be the Force, it just can't be.

He stops the death grip. The girl, Rey, sputters and coughs, pink lips tinged in blue.

He is breathing hard, leaning on the cold wall of his quarters, as if he has run for hours. His hands clench as he tries to shut the images from his mind, to focus, to put his training to good use. But all he sees are her eyes. Hazel eyes, lighter in color than his own, brimming with fire.

Her beauty, her power, her fucking innate goodness, fills him with fury. He needs to smother the light. He needs to show her that the darkness is the only truth, the only way. He needs to devour her as the darkness has devoured him. The scene in his mind changes. He will show her that there is no mercy, no light left for him, or for her.

He is in front of her before she can blink, gloved hands landing on shackled ones. She is recovering from the force choke, her mouth open, gasping. He claims it with his own as she inhales. She takes the air from his lungs, unwillingly, and it makes his head spin. She struggles against him, but the Force within her meshes with his, enveloping them both and sending them crashing. He can sense her unease, but the pull of their combined power is too strong.

He slides down to the floor of his quarters, jaw clamped so tight he risks breaking his teeth, hands raking his hair. He can't be thinking about this. He shouldn't be thinking about this. She's just a few doors away, and he can feel her through the walls. The Force is strong in her, so strong it makes him sick.

What follows is a rough, sloppy dance of lips and teeth and tongues. He knows he is leaving marks, knows that whoever sees her will know. And so be it. Let them see. Let Snoke see what he's claimed for his own. Let him wonder what else his apprentice is capable of.

The thought of it only drives him forward. His whole body is on fire, and he takes it out on her, using the Force to rip away the metal that holds her prisoner. He clings to her like a man drowning, pouring out every vicious emotion, every ounce of his power, engulfing them in flame, his crucible of darkness.

But something is different. She's supposed to bow, to be afraid. But she doesn't beg him, doesn't even flinch in the face of his onslaught. Instead, she is angry now too, his power fueling her own, kindling to a fire. She is ...

The dam breaks as she fights back. Perhaps it is his turn to be afraid, but he is too lost in her to do anything but respond in kind. He almost smiles with pride.

Got you, he thinks.

Or is it she who got him?

He bites down on her neck, hard, and her scream echoes through the chamber. He loves it, wants to hear it again, and again. His own ferocity frightens him; it is out of control, much like what Snoke warned him against, but he is past caring. He soothes the bite with his tongue, tasting her sweat and desire and fear, and it is intoxicating. Her power is so immense, so close, just beneath her skin, and he swears he will rip her apart to get to it if he has to.

Someone knocks on the door. One of his nameless stormtroopers. "Sir? We heard noises. Do you require assistance?"

"No," he manages as the door opens a crack. "Get out."

"But sir-"

"OUT!" He forces the door shut telepathically, probably bashing the stormtrooper in the face. He slumps against the wall, holding his head in his hands, long black hair falling across unseeing eyes.

Beneath him on the cold floor, she shudders as he exposes her to the chill air. The sight of her, open beneath his hand, makes him hard as stone. Gloves off, and he slides one, two, three fingers in quick succession, her moans urging him on, and he drowns in the heady power of her, pulling him in. He quickly sheds only what clothing is necessary and enters her in seconds. He is not prepared for how good it feels. He can't remember the last time he'd done this, not that it could compare. She raises her hips, he sinks deeper into the heat, and he is lost. He bends over her, his hair curtaining her face, his mouth bruising hers, his urgency now palpable. He pushes deeper, using the Force to slam her hips against him. Once, twice, and then a relentless, brutal rhythm; he is neither kind nor gentle. He had set out to claim her humanity, and his voice in her ear is feral.

"Scream for me."

Her sounds intensify as she reaches the edge, and he helps her, latching his mouth onto her perfect little breast at the right moment. She tightens around him, and for a second he forgets himself, forgets Snoke and Vader and the First Order and Luke and the Force, thinks he has never seen anything more beautiful in his life, thinks she is more beautiful than even the darkness he worships.

"Long and loud," he commands, knowing it's the only time she will ever obey him again.

He feels her tumble over, swallows the screams of her climax, his own release following close behind.

When Ren opens his eyes, he is still on the floor. It is strangely quiet, and he breathes out a curse. His pants have become uncomfortable. This will not do, not at all. And if Hux notices, he'll find a way to use it against him. The strange girl cannot stay here. He has to get her to Snoke, off this base and out of his damned mind before she causes any more trouble.

He ignites his lightsaber, holds it in front of his face, tries to imitate the icy calm of Vader on the bridge of an imperial Star Destroyer. Silence falls, punctuated only by his breathing. After a while, it slows. Hearing and seeing the familiar crackle helps. He stares at it for a long time, careful not to burn himself with the cross-guard. Better.

Shakily, he rises. He should check on his prisoner.

When he enters the interrogation chamber, she is already gone. Before his rage takes over, before the darkness claims him and he starts destroying the room, Kylo Ren feels a slight, but very real, twinge of regret.