Written as a prompt fill for an anon on Tumblr: "Hi! Are you still taking prompts? I'd like to read a fic where Rey deals with Kylo's touch starvation (please, make me cry hard.)"

I was going to leave it here, but after some thought, I will be writing a second part hopefully tomorrow/Friday. Maybe resolve some of that UST. Please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy.

"I won't do it again."

General Organa nodded her head solemnly as Rey stalked from the interrogation room. Rey sagged against the far wall of the hallway, letting out a long sigh that carried her body all the way down to flop heavily on the floor.

"I understand. I don't... I want there to be a better way, too," the General sighed, looking like she would also like to slide to a heap on the floor.

Rey's head fell back against the duracrete wall with a dull thud, and she waggled her bottom jaw, trying to loosen the tension there. It had only been 20 minutes, according to the clock on the opposite wall, but her time in that room with him always felt like hours, days.

"Did you get... Anything?" General Organa's usually firm voice quavered a little, as if uncertain she wanted to hear the answer.

Rey shook her head. "Nothing."

Organa nodded again. "I understand if you find the whole thing distasteful. After what he did to you."

Distasteful. That was a word for it, perhaps. To Rey, it felt wrong. Trying to worm her way into a place that wasn't meant for her. No matter what he had done to her-she couldn't do it back. It turned her stomach to try to penetrate the last boundary a desperate human body had left: their own mind. And though they wanted, no, needed, Supreme Leader Snoke's location, attempting to pluck it from Kylo Ren's aberrant brain was a task Rey truly wished hadn't been given her by the Resistance after his capture.

"We could… There are other ways," General Organa muttered.

Rey looked up with startled eyes to the General. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, and Rey knew what she was thinking.

"No!" Rey dismissed the idea with a grimace. "We're better than that. And you shouldn't have to do something like that to your own son."

Though I don't know if he would pay you the same courtesy, Rey added silently. "I'll try again. Just… talking to him. He might not know how to react to simple conversation." She knew that she was reaching, but she would say anything to keep that final option of torturing the location from the wretch that used to be Ben Solo from being their only option.

"You are good, Rey," General Organa said after a moment. "You are good to me."

Rey stood. "Don't say that just yet."

"Back so soon, scavenger?" His voice was smooth and steady, completely belying the haggardness of his appearance. His black costume was missing more than a few layers and a large rend exposed the startling white of his left shoulder. They did not have him strapped in such an elaborate interrogation chair as what had been used on her on Starkiller. He rather sat on a low metal bench, his wrists bound before him in a complicated Force manacle that attached to the floor by a dimly gleaming length of chain. He braced his forearms on the tops of his thighs in a facsimile of casual disinterest, his gloveless fingers fiddling with the links of the chain that connected the metal cuffs.

But Rey could feel how much he hated to be incapacitated. His eyes focused on the idle twisting of his fingers on the links of metal, a posture that looked more defeated than he probably realized.

She shrugged and lowered herself to the floor again, crossing her legs beneath her. She looked up into his face and remembered how surprised she had been when he had shown her a strange kindness in a similar situation.

The softness of the face beneath the mask had been enough to startle her into momentary weakness, into curiosity rather than fear. Perhaps she could evoke the same from him, now.

"I thought we might just talk."

He looked down at her then, sitting at his feet. She wasn't close enough to reach, but just so. He chuckled and it was a sound as foreign to this room as snow was on Jakku.

"My clever little scavenger. You think you know of more than one way to pick apart wreckage. But tell me: how often does chatting up the engine compartment result in the surrender of its valuables?"

She smiled sweetly up at him, hoping her aim was true. "More often than you think."

He shifted in his chains, only a minor adjustment, but Rey tallied it a success.

"How are you?"

Ren scoffed. "That's your opening line? You're horrible at this." He shifted again, leaning toward her. His chains rattled along the hard floor. "But we knew that already, didn't we?"

Rey resisted the urge to lean back. He might be able to reach her now, were he quick about it. But, she reasoned, he was always able to reach her, with his powerful hands or not. The manacles only managed to dampen his wielding of the Force, and even then, he was formidable. Though, for whatever reason, he'd not attempted anything on her in these last few days of careful interrogation.

"How are you?" He canted his head, parroting her words back at her. There was a cruel tightness to his eyes and a smirk on his lips that had nothing to do with humor.

Rey sighed, deciding on honesty. "I'm tired. I don't like this-I don't like trying to see into your mind."

"Do my thoughts scare you so much, little scavenger?" The smirk widened.

"Don't flatter yourself." She found it difficult to continue to look into his eyes, to absorb this foul energy his insouciant remarks produced. "I just find the act itself…" She paused, remembering her conversation with the General.

"...distasteful."

He laughed that humorless laugh again, shaking his head at the very idea of her. "You are weak."

Something in his words tripped something inside her. The filtered air of the room suddenly seemed that much denser. She leaned forward then, onto her knees, placing hands on the floor and bringing her face very close to his. "You and I both know that is not true."

She eyed the still healing scar that slashed across his face, willing him to remember how it got there. But when she looked back to his eyes, they were wide with apparent fear. He was staring hard at her mouth, his own agape, and she realized just how close they were. She shifted, just an inch, and that terror in his eyes flashed anew. He flinched away from her.

The movement spurred her.

She lifted a hand from the floor, slowly so as to not lose her balance should he decide to lunge at her. He was shying away, though she didn't think he was aware of his retreat. She pressed the tips of her fingers into his full bottom lip.

He uttered a noise that she didn't know a man could make, something wet and mewling, and he pressed his mouth into her fingers. She was motionless as she watched him, frozen in basest fascination at his reaction.

Her first finger slipped between his lips and he caught it between his teeth. Sucked it deeper into his mouth.

His bound hands reached for her, rattling the chains. The racket of his lunge shattered the trance she had fallen into, and she tumbled back from him, her hand falling from his mouth. She crawled away from him, suddenly frightened.

He dropped inelegantly from the bench in an attempt to chase after her. He was yanked back abruptly by the chain securing him as he tried to crawl after her, falling hard on his exposed shoulder but continuing to struggle against his tether.

She stayed out of his reach, panting in fear and something else she didn't know the name of. She could still feel the wet from his mouth on her fingers and gathered them into a fist. Whether to banish the feeling of him, or hold it more closely, she didn't know.

He looked wild. Confused and rabid as he crouched on the hard floor. His hair had fallen into his eyes and it fluttered with each of his shuddering breaths. His eyes were hard on her, angry and desperate. What had she discovered? What had just happened?

She slid back onto her hands and knees, moved just a few inches toward him. He pulled hard on his chains, a testament to either their strength or his weakness when they would not free him. His breathing turned to low growls as she crawled to him. She held out one hand, palm down, knuckles leading, as if attempting to temper a wild dog.

His eyes darted between her extended hand and her eyes as he snarled, "Scavenger scum."

She reached him, carefully smoothing the back of her hand across his cheek. That noise again, a broken, lewd keening as he pressed into her hand. She swiped it back down his face and he turned his lips into it. His breath was hot on her wrist as she flexed her hand and rubbed her palm over his opposite cheek. Again his mouth sought it, laying nipping bites to the swell of flesh as the base of her thumb, wet kisses at the divides of her fingers.

He was ravenous, still struggling against the chains to touch her, touch her. He looked so livid, so terribly indignant as he crudely ground his face into her outstretched hand, his eyes alternating between glaring at her and squeezing shut in some agony she didn't fully understand.

"Tell me where Snoke is." Her voice was a breathy whisper. As soon as the words escaped her, she felt a turn of revulsion. If slithering into his mind to find answers had been distasteful, this felt repulsive. He was desperate for this contact, half out of his mind with needing to be touched, and she was using it against him. His tongue laved a hot path up her wrist and she felt something else, as well. Something as base as his animalistic agitations.

She laced her other hand in his hair.

The roots of it were slick with sweat and he moaned when she tugged at it. She tugged harder.

"Tell me where Snoke is hiding."

He lunged again, his teeth clacking with a bite that did not quite connect with her own throat. She moved then, bringing her neck closer so he could bury his face there. His hands still could not quite reach her, but he dove his face into the exposed skin below her ear with another guttural groan. He was obscene in his attempts to consume her flesh. All teeth and hard sucking kisses that would mottle her with dark bruises. It felt incredible.

"N-no," he stuttered against her.

She arched into him, knowing her own cruelty, but enjoying the sensations his mouth ignited along her flesh. His mouth reached the thin skin over her collarbone now, his fingertips just barely able to brush against her stomach. At this briefest of victories, she ripped her body away from him.

He nearly howled.

"Tell me where Supreme Leader Snoke is stationed!" she shouted, her words broken with her panting breaths.

"Wretched minx." He yanked again on his chains. "Come close enough so that I can handle you properly."

"Not until you tell me about Snoke."

He barked a laugh, tugged again on his restraints. "Then I can fuck you?" he sneered. "Once I tell you where to find my master?"

His words cut through her, kindled something dark and heavy low in her gut. She didn't know this kind of prurience, this deeply foreboding, erotic want. He talked about her body as if it already belonged to him, and she shivered at her almost enjoyment of the idea.

She delved too far into something she didn't understand. He leaned into her touch, seemed starved for it, and she thought she could use it for her own gains. But he turned it on her. He ridiculed her with her avarice.

"No," she intoned, low and steady. She remembered his initial fear at her touching him. She seized onto that power. "No, Kylo Ren." She stood, looked down at his huddled form on the floor. "You'll never fuck me."

The words didn't form correctly in her mouth, but she thought the effect was all the more palpable for it. She was clumsily mocking his crudeness, and yet she held all the power.

"But if you don't tell me where your master is, I'll make certain that you will never be touched by another living soul for as long as you live."

The gleam in his eyes snuffed out in a flicker, and Rey immediately regretted her cruelty.

This man, this boy, who killed his father and would kill her given half the chance-he broke her heart. She ached at the pain in his eyes when she touched him, at the urgency of him. How long since he had been touched by anyone, skin to skin?

Not since Han Solo, she realized with another slow roll of her stomach.

She backed slowly from him toward the door, appalled at herself, at what she was doing. The heavy air of the room made sense now-the ponderous weight of the Dark Side, calling her to extinguish what little spark was left in Kylo Ren. What was left of Ben Solo.

Just as she opened her mouth to recant, Ren spoke.

"I'll tell you." His voice was splintered, and he spoke to the floor, not to her. "I'll tell you where he is."

"Ren." Rey moved back to him, her hand outstretched again.

He jerked his face away from her would-be caress. Glared up at her. "Don't."

She withdrew, her hand shaking.

"You are weak," he spat. "You have me, right under your thumb." Tears shown on his lashes as he eviscerated her word by word."You could watch me squirm, could have me fouling my hands, the floor, with my wanting of you! Yet you tremble! You shrink from the power you could have over me!"

Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched the wretch on the floor huddle as far from her as his tether would allow.

"Tell General Organa that I will cooperate."

She felt no relief at this. This was worse, so much worse than violating the sanctuary of his own mind. She had traded one violation for another, and it truly sickened her.

When she staggered from the room some minutes later, she couldn't help but collapse to the floor outside the door of his holding cell.

General Organa was on her in less than two steps, motioning for reinforcements from the guards down the hall. Rey waved them off.

"I've got it," Rey breathed. "He told me."

The General nodded at the guards and they retreated back to their stations.

"Caraya's soul, Rey! What happened to your neck?" Organa pressed her fingers into the tender flesh as Rey attempted to shrug out from beneath her touch. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. No." She shook her head, willing the mad glint of his eyes from her thoughts, the cowed posture he crumpled into as she hurried from the room with his intelligence on Snoke.

"I think-" Rey swallowed, squeezed her eyes shut against the unnecessary concern of General Organa.

"I hurt him."