Used
He knocks twice, then waits in the darkness of the corridor outside Rey's room. She answers quickly enough, eager to get him inside and out of sight. It bothers him that she's so secretive where he's concerned, that she's ashamed to be fucking him, but Kylo wants her too badly to let pride get in the way of this affair.
As soon as the door is locked behind him, Rey kisses his neck, tugs at the fastenings of his dark clothes, her hands greedy and grasping. Once he's naked enough she pushes him to the bed, climbs on top of him, and rides him roughly. He can't get enough of the sight of her, those long legs straddling his hips, muscular and sweat-slicked; her small breasts bouncing as she takes her pleasure; the way she throws her head back when she's close to climaxing, moonlight illuminating the sweet line of her graceful throat. He works his fingers on her sex, rubbing rapid circles until she shouts into the shadows, some wordless cry of fulfillment—but not his name. Never his name.
He lets himself come then, but as soon as it's over, Kylo is reminded of what this is between himself and Rey. And more importantly, what it's not.
She goes to her 'fresher to wash up, then returns a moment later wearing a short robe. Rey picks his clothes up off the floor and dumps them unceremoniously on the rumpled bed next to him.
"Subtle," he says dryly.
Rey rolls her eyes. "I don't have time to play games with you, Kylo. I leave for a mission with Finn and Poe in the morning, and I need to sleep."
He stands, starts to dress, his movements sharp and angry.
"Well then maybe I won't have time to fuck you the next time you have an itch that needs scratching," he warns, too hurt to weigh his words wisely. (Besides, it's all bluster; he wishes he had the strength to resist her out of spite, but he doesn't.)
Rey smirks at him and says, "We'll see."
Author's Notes: I'll be collecting my Reylo drabbles here! These pieces will be of various rating, length, and genre.
The title and summary are from Pablo Neruda's 100 Love Sonnets.