Relationship History: None

From a young age Kylo had been convinced that the whole idea behind meditation is really a fraud. A great con that was perpetuated by people exactly like his uncle to trick him into simply being quiet and going away for a while.

Even as an adult it continues to be a sore point. At the best of times, in his rare moments that can count as that, trying to clear his mind has proven to be more frustrating than productive.

And then there's occasions like now, when his subconscious keeps bouncing for attention like a dejected child.

Relationship History: None

Those three words. Three words that were never intended to be anything more than an oversight. Something to be ignored and disregarded faster than they could be read.

Three words that shouldn't matter. And they don't.

Except that they kind of do.

Kylo jerks his head back up from where it had started to droop. Scowls at a deeper shadow on his wall before remembering that he's supposed to forget everything. To forget all distractions. Even the ones – especially the ones – that are stuck in his head like a bad song with a catchy tune.

Relationship History: None

No.

His meditation form has rapidly followed his concentration and gone to total shit and it's all her fault. It has to be. Or possibly the fault of the embarrassing excuse of a research staff whose job ethic apparently begins and ends with a search engine. And he knows he should care about that, not about-

Relationship Hist -

The thought starts to form before he can slap it down.

He sighs, expanding his chest until it hurts then huffing the air out through his nose. Reminds himself that he should try not to fidget with his hands so much. So he compulsively crosses and uncrosses his legs instead.

None? Really?

Yes, none. Apparently. None as in... none. As in "no one".

Three inconsequential and pointless words buried in the middle of an equally inconsequential and pointless report.

It's...uncomfortable for him to think about. Makes him shift his posture again. And then again. A finger twitches and the lights dim to a shade above zero. For a moment he still feels the prickles of annoyance that had been plaguing him start to ease up. Then a sense of restlessness returns, settling deeply somewhere between his chest and stomach.

Well maybe he's just too rigid to meditate correctly? He shifts a little until he's lying down on his bed. Head and shoulders propped up by pillows. Tries to relax the scowl from his face.

And then it's those three words again. He doesn't even have to actually think them. They're still there, hovering. Crushing all his good intentions of meditation into dust. He can almost feel his chance at inner peace slip away.

It makes him pout. Then he catches himself. Corrects his expression into something more stoic and appropriately villainous. He's a bad guy, right? Bad guys don't get distracted. And they definitely don't pout. Villains are all chiseled jawed and man-of-few-words.

So he chisels his jaw. Stays silent.

No. Still doesn't work. He still keeps thinking about her. It's so easy to think about her. Except no, absolutely not, he's not doing this again. He fidgets one more time, loosely clasping his hands together on his lap.

Then the gesture makes an unexpectedly hopeful jolt shoot from his lower body.

His hands are immediately flung to the sides and he can't quite stop from cringing. Looking guiltily around his room just to be unconditionally sure no one saw that.

A strangled noise and his fingers twitch through the air like they're holding invisible drumsticks before being slammed down against his sides. There's absolutely no excuse for such-

Well... for that sort of reaction.

Granted, he's alone in his room with no supervision. Just himself and his imagination. Alone in the dark. Trying to relax. In his bed. His soft, comfortable bed.

Meditation has done nothing to relax him. Quite the opposite, really, but if only there was some other-

He clears his throat. No reprimand seems strong enough for the interruption. His mind claws for that elusive feeling of nothingness. And it utterly fails. Those three words are determined to haunt him.

And... What if they're really true? What if the scavenger really never... what if she really was... by herself this whole time? And not just by herself, but only with herself?

Oh...

Now that thought... Makes him exhale sharply through his nose. Instantly his imagination starts to sparkle. Threatens to outshine the reluctant part of his mind that keeps reminding himself not to do this. Not to follow down this unlikely and downright embarrassing trail of thought.

But just what if it's true? What if she's only had herself?

His face can't decide whether to flinch or smirk. After a few moments of flexing limbo the muscles settle for a very familiar grimace. He shoots a chiding glare down at his lower body which suddenly seems very eager to join in on the conversation.

C'mon... his inner voice purrs. You're alone. No one will ever have to know.

It's very... tempting. But he really shouldn't. He knows that. He really shouldn't...

Another hopeful twitch from lower down and he strums his fingers against his dark sheets. Is he seriously feeling so inspired by that tiny little girl? He keeps thinking about her and it's every kind of inappropriate but he just can't help it. He can't help remembering exactly how she looked in their brief moments together. All the ways that it would be possible that she could look. It's enough to make the mind wander even further off course and-

Oh for gods sake...

If his face was warm before it's practically on fire now. One of his hands had surreptitiously crept its own way over to cup his groin without permission.

He shoots it a stern glare. Traitor. She's our enemy, remember?

The hand flops over in response, baring its belly like a scolded dog. He snorts. Oh kriff...

Yes, she's an enemy. But... but she is also a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who has proven herself more than worthy of a few extra moments of consideration.

So he pauses and considers the situation. Gaze alternating from his hand to the front of his pants. No shortage of intrigue from either appendage.

Maybe, just maybe, if he can justify the situation first... Then it'll be okay. Right?

Right.

Yes, he's a bad guy. A villain. He's earned the title with pride. And, when all things are considered... jerking off over his enemy is in fact a pretty evil thing to do. It's actually a totally villainous darksider move.

And when it's put it like that... Well now he just has to do it, doesn't he?

Kylo stares down at his palm. Opens and closes his fist like he's handshaking on a deal with himself.

So is that good enough now ?

The determined bulge in his pants seems to be his answer.

His cheeks burn in dissonance with his former self before he allows his hand to resume its previous perch. For a long moment he just lays there, staring up at the ceiling. Wrestling with some internal battle he can't quite articulate. Then he exhales the breath he'd been holding and closes his eyes.

This feels... so.

Maybe he just needs a fantasy? There's not enough real-life material of the girl in his memory. Even less in that in the pathetic "report" he was given. So he has to fall back on his bank of tried-and-true daydreams.

He takes another deep breath and holds it until it hurts. Holds it a little longer then lets it out with a growl.

Then gets started by trying to picture her in different ways. Lets his mind cherry-pick the visuals that appeal the most. Imagines a pair of small and tanned hands clutched tightly together.

No, bound tightly together.

The scavenger would be tied up securely with... something. Maybe he would use his cowl? That would probably rile her up more than a rope, even though the fabric was much softer.

He pictures forcing her down. Tying her up carefully despite how she struggles to keep him away.

Oh yes, that works. His opportunistic hand shifts in gratitude. This is going well.

He twists deeper into the pillows, willing his fantasy to do something. Lets the rest of his mental image of her pan into view, watching closely as she shifts against the examination table. She would try to wriggle free, of course, difficult little thing that she is. But he'd have been careful when he'd bound her up. Nowhere for her to go now.

Yes... Now that is a very nice thought. His hand rewards his musings with a gentle squeeze.

Oh definitely that. She'd be tied up with his cowl and it would look just so lovely. He'd loop the extra length through the headboard to secure her upper body.

He pauses and quirks an eyebrow at himself, eyes still tightly closed. So apparently Fantasy Scavenger's laying on a bed now. And just when did that happen?

Oh nevermind. Screw continuity. Doesn't matter.

His hand squeezes again twice more. Starts to run his thumb along the top edge of the waistband to his pants.

He'd want to keep her upper body tied down. Make sure she can't escape again. And possibly gag her? Maybe... But then he's not sure if he'd prefer her mouth free or-

Oh gods...

The next image makes him flinch again despite himself, his cheeks practically burning in the cold darkness of his room. That fantasy sure escalated quickly...

Maybe a little too quickly. H e has to force his hand to release its energetic grip. If he's going to do this – and its a strange thought to think how rarely he actually does – but if he's going to do this he wants to do it right.

Sure he could finish himself off quite quickly. Especially if he follows that intriguing line of thought. Use rapid, rough strokes while he imagines her trussed up and spread out.

But why rush? He's alone in his room with nothing but time on his hands.

Relationship History: None

He thinks about those three words again. Except now, given the right circumstances, they aren't remotely irritating.

Actually, they're rather exquisite, aren't they? Three lovely words that Kylo very eagerly chooses to believe as he yanks down the waistband of his pants and finally gives into the moment.

With a deep breath he holds his length in his palm, gazing down at it and letting his mind wander wherever it pleases. A few scenarios spring to mind, but just thinking about her isn't enough. Oh no. The only way he's going to allow himself to do this will be if he can make it extra villainous. Otherwise it might be misinterpreted. Strictly a villainous jerk off session is required.

And so just what would be an appropriate punishment for her?

His eyes close again as he muses. The first suggestion conjured up is the one he settles on: make her get involved. She's so obviously an innocent virgin. Clearly. The brief had to be right about that much at least. So anything he forces on her would just make her a victim. Which is fine and wonderful and all that but... what about forcing a more active participation?

Oh yes. That's much more evil.

He places Fantasy Scavenger back to standing. He can tie her up again later. They have plenty of time together now.

He starts to slowly stroke himself, enjoying the slight burn of his rough and dry hands against his sensitive skin. Her own petite hands would be softer, though. He pictures them. What would he look like wrapped in her small fingers? The contrast of her tanned skin against his pale flesh? Would she be afraid to touch him?

He keeps his eyes closed as he thinks about that. Keeps the pace of his hand slow and steady. Yes, most likely she would be. He's never been with a virgin, but he would assume that she would be frightened. Especially given the detailed scenario he's fabricated. A little fear is good, but he doesn't want her too terrified of him.

So what to do about it?

For someone as totally inexperienced as she must be – that poor lost little girl – she would certainly be frightened. Her first sighting of an aroused male would be alarming to her, but also... also it would peak her natural curiosity, right? Her inquisitive nature would surely win out over her nerves.

He strokes himself a little faster, closing his eyes halfway as he tries out different angles. Tries to match how he thinks a small, feminine hand would move against him. But then that gets weird so he just goes back to his regular grip.

The scavenger would obviously be intimidated at first. He's sure of it but that would be a manageable response. She might even pretend to be disgusted, but deep down he knows that she would be intrigued. His attraction to her was mutual, something she might pretend to deny but that couldn't last long. Not when he would be so compelling.

His hand squeezes gently, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the length of one the larger veins. The motion has him gasping. Seriously, it's been how long since he's last done this? Apparently far too long but it doesn't matter right now. He can't be bothered to remember as he disappears back into his fantasy.

So the scavenger wouldn't know what to do at first. He imagines her reaching out hesitantly to pet him. Too nervous on her own but very willing to continue if he encourages her. She'd grasp him, holding for a second while he enjoys how different her palm feels from his own. Then she'd start to stroke, moving from the base up and-

No. That's not right. He pulls his hand away. Cocks his head to the side and contemplates.

She wouldn't just start moving right away. She is a virgin, after all. She wouldn't know how to do that.

Hmmm...

Okay. She'd probably touch him very lightly at first. He runs a single finger along the underside. Yes. Exactly like that.

Next she might awkwardly move her hands a few times. A little bit of fumbling. It feels nice of course but it could be better.

What else?

What else would she do, and what else would he like her to?

Of course she would want him to direct her, wouldn't she? Except she won't say it because she's so stubborn. So he'll have to take charge.

He takes himself back into a firm grip. His hand would completely cover over hers. He'd wrap her fingers around his girth, and then she'd look up at him. Her lovely brown eyes would be so uncertain. Her nervousness would be adorable and the heat from her palm would feel lovely. Such a warm little thing.

And of course he'd show her how to do everything. He'd press her grip tighter around him while he whispers into her ear. He'd say something really cocky and witty that would make her blush and just look so damn pretty all over again.

Back in his room Kylo has to bite back a groan. That thought... imagining her with big, glistening eyes and a surprised expression. His next breath is ragged and requires a conscious effort to force through his lungs.

He really shouldn't feel so embarrassed to picture things like that. He gently squeezes the lowest part of himself a few more times, getting his mind back on track.

He wouldn't move their hand yet but he'd make her pulse her grip against him. Let her get used to the feel of him. Show her how to make her hold just right.

Then she would probably look away again. Pretend to be just so embarrassed. It's only fair how that lovely stain would flush her cheeks. He'd cup her face with his other hand and press his thumb against her lips. Her breath quickening as her interest peaks. Then he'd trace down to her chin.

"Look at me." He purrs it in his fantasy and whispers it in his darkened bedroom.

She'd obey him for just a second, glancing up at him before her dark eyelashes would fan down again. She wouldn't try to stop him, though. She wouldn't want to stop.

He would pull her even closer then. Smirk as she stares up at him, eyes wide. And that little hitch in her breath would give her away. Let him know just how intrigued she is by what she's seeing. By what she's touching.

She might even be so distracted – so overwhelmed- that he could dart into her mind for just a moment. Not to coerce her, of course. He doesn't need to anymore. But so that he can see for himself if she's really enjoying doing this to him.

He feels himself swell in his own hand and she would gasp. He won't have to show her what to do this time. Now she would start caressing him on her own. Squeezing so gently but just so wonderfully. Enjoying how heavy he feels in her palm. She'd glance at him again, giving him just a tiniest hint of an uncertain smile.

Mhmm...that's very nice. She can be such a nice girl when she wants to be. He would run his thumb over her lips again and she would part them slightly as he decides whether she deserves a kiss yet.

You like this, don't you? he'd ask and she would nod, a little hint of something wicked in her eyes.

He has to steady himself. Let his pulse slow back down a little. He has plenty of time now, no need to rush this to an early finish.

"Move up and down." His voice is hoarse, sounding exceedingly rough in the quiet room.

She would nod obediently, biting her lip and catching the edge of his finger between her teeth before she realizes what she's doing. She still wouldn't be completely sure of herself, but she probably would be grateful that he's giving her the guidance that she wants.

His hand is loosely over hers, fingers lightly entwined but still keeping hers in place.

Move.

And she would obey instantly. Start to pump him. He exhales and closes his eyes, arching his head back into the pillows. She tugs her hand again and he has to bite his lip. It chafes just a little too much but he wouldn't want to stop her to find some lotion.

He guides her to keep moving. Watching how she enjoys his reaction nearly as much as he savors her. Her smile would widen and her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. Teasing him? Oh yes, she'd definitely be teasing him. He always knew there was something hidden in her.

He adds a twist to the movements of their hand. Oh kriff it feels good...

By the fourth time her strokes are confident. She'd be thoroughly pleased with herself, hardly even needing his hand to prompt her to keep up the motion.

Oh yes, that's very nice. He wriggles deeper into the bed. It's so easy to forget himself when her strokes have taken on that perfect rhythm that has his cock twitching.

He wants to draw her even closer. Nuzzle his face into her hair like he never would allow himself to if this was really happening. That would be too soft for reality. But it's not real and it's his own damn sex fantasy so he is allowed to imagine the sweeter things. Like how she would feel against him. How her hair would feel against his lips.

She would want to touch him more, too. He'd let her run her hand over his chest. Let her trace her fingers along his muscles and broad shoulders. She'd get turned on even more when she feels how strong he is. Of course she would. Women are supposed to love that kind of thing, right?

Kylo hesitates as he tries to figure out the necessary angles of the scene. The logistics are a little awkward. He wants to keep her pressed tightly against him so he can feel her. The mental sensation of her body next to his is a little foggy – he wishes he'd touched her more when he had the chance. Then he could know exactly how she feels. Where she's soft and where she's compact.

But that would have been exceedingly inappropriate at the time and not-

NOT part of his fantasy at all. He roughly shoves the tangent out of his head. Resumes a steady pace to his strokes to bring him back into the moment. Closes his eyes again and then he can see his cock in her hand and all is well once more.

Next he would spin her around. Press his chest against her back so she can still caress him but he can access the front of her body. She'd gasp, rubbing her backside against him. Teasing him a little more and enjoying making them both squirm.

He guides their hand to move faster. Make her use the harsh, rough strokes that make his skin prickle. It takes a few moments to reach his previous point, but her eager expression does wonders for his enthusiasm.

She would throw her head back against his shoulder as their bodies move together, grinding against each other while she continues to move her hand. He would cup her breast and she'd give a little strangled sound just because she can't control it. Maybe because she would want to let how much she loves everything that's happening.

Only when both their breaths are synchronized in shallow, rapid pants does he slow down his rhythm on himself. It's hurting just a little too much now. The sensitive skin on his cock practically rubbed raw by his -no, their- fast and dry pounding.

He sighs into the dark air, imagining placing a soft kiss to her temple. Giving her neck an affectionate squeeze then pulling away.

He tries to keep the fantasy vivid as he fumbles with the contents of his bedside cabinet. Tries to picture her waiting for him, face full of desire and longing.

Except that's not even remotely close to how he's ever seen her and he gives a frustrated grunt. It's really hard to have a detailed sex fantasy over someone he's barely spent any time with.

He quickly grabs the bottle of lube he keeps tucked away in the far corner of the drawer. Another flicker of embarrassment washes over him at even having something like that so conveniently accessible. But then he lays down and there's a beautiful woman waiting for him again as soon as he closes his eyes.

She would come to him this time. No encouragement needed. She'd want to be there, in his bedroom, alone with him. She would wrap her arms around his neck and press close, wanting to continue where they left off right away.

He has to resist the urge to just haphazardly fist himself. Slow down. Take your time.

His hands shake a little as he pops open the lid to the bottle. Pictures grinding himself against her stomach until he's practically shivering.

She would moan his name softly and tilt her face up towards his. He might, if he was feeling generous, give her the briefest of kisses. Then he would run his hands along her sides, feeling her skin through the rough fabric of her tattered-

No. That doesn't work. He can do better.

He would only want to feel her skin through silken fabric. Nothing that would remind him of the first time he had her in his arms.

So maybe at some point she would have changed out of those awful rags just for him. And she would be wearing... what?

Nothing? One of his shirts maybe?

He smirks. Ah, yes. She's wearing his clothes now. One of his shirts. Midnight dark and adorably so big on her tiny body. It would be buttoned loosely and skimming just above her thighs and she would look so perfect at that moment.

His cock twitches impatiently in his palm. Reminding him that they were in the middle of something important.

He directs his attention back to her. Playing with Dress Up Scavenger could wait for another day. Right now he has something far more pressing to take care of.

He would catch one of her hands and rub his thumb along her palm and fingers. She'd stare up at him, waiting for his next instruction. Except there's little smirk on her lips this time.

He has to take the control back, so he shows her how much of the lube to use. Places just a few drops in their hand and warms it up in their palm before he guides her back down. The two firm strokes she gives him to spread it over his length feel utterly fascinating.

He bites his lip, controlling himself as he lets her explore freely. She would slow down their momentum to trace along his veins. Run her small fingers from his base to end. Discover just how sensitive his tip is as he moans. He'd bury his fingers in her hair, throwing his head back and encouraging her to keep going.

She will dribble just a drop more of the lotion onto him, complying immediately when he tells her to play with the looser skin there. She drags their thumb back and forth before pressing down on the slit and gods doesn't that just feel so fucking amazing.

A drop of precum finally leaks out and he almost wants to make her lick it off. Shove her to her knees and teach her everything she can do for him with her mouth. She would love that, wouldn't she? Of course she would.

But the mental image of her desperate to suck him off, which in hindsight was rather ridiculous, is nearly too much for him. He doesn't want to finish their evening together so soon, so he moves his hand down to the base of himself. Presses hard against the underside and sinks his teeth into his lip.

Okay, now that hurts. Hurts in a good, achey sort of way. And it immediately works, pulling him back from the edge of orgasm. He lies there panting for a few moments, relieved that the room is so dark and cold.

When his blood cools down enough he continues, closing his eyes and willing his fantasy girl back to life. He draws his scavenger up to standing. Having her on her knees like that was just too... Distracting.

She's much more confident now. Bold little thing, so full of herself now that she almost took him apart. This time she smiles as she grasps him. Her pace is fast, maybe a little too fast, and she tightens her grip each time she reaches the tip. He his hand in her hair again and pulls her head against his shoulder as he lets her work.

Despite their pace, it's a more controlled climb to ecstasy than before. She glances up at him and this time he can't resist: his hand shifts to catch her chin and he pulls her into a kiss. She would be as surprised as he is that he's doing it. Gasp when he bites into her lip, but then she's eagerly sucking on his tongue when he offers it.

Her grip on him falters little but it's okay. He likes that she got distracted and all it takes is a gentle squeeze of his hand to remind her what she was doing.

Now he starts pumping with enthusiasm, pulling out another deep groan. He drags his thumb on the underside of himself, pressing hard as he drags it up his length. He's leaking heavily now and he pulls away from their kiss to watch how her fingers shine with it. Her blush is just so beautiful when she notices and he has to fight the urge to kiss her again.

And just like that he's at the precipice for the second time. Their pace had increased to a rapid, almost frantic jerk and he has to tear his hand away from himself before she makes him cum. The image of his perfect little scavenger is getting a little blurry in his mind as he struggles to control himself.

No. Not yet. Just wait a little more.

He's starting to ache and he grips the base of himself again, squeezing firmly. He hisses at the intense sensation, so much stronger now than last time. A dizzying amalgam of painful pleasure, but this time it doesn't do what he needs it to.

He wants to tell her to slow down. Tell her that he doesn't want to finish so soon. That he wants her on his bed. Him on top of her. Inside of her. He doesn't want it to end like this. But there's something so downright filthy about the whole situation. Deep in the back of his mind he still feels guilty about dragging her with him into this particular fantasy.

So he tells her to keep going as an apology. Orders her to move faster even if it means this will all be over too soon. She doesn't change her pace even as he struggles to find the words. Her speed increases just like he wants. Pumping him harder, faster, rougher. Their hand squeezing him from base to end, tightening as it reaches the tip.

His moans start to take on an almost wounded tone, echoing against the walls of his empty room. He almost wants to make her stop. Except he really doesn't.

It seems like a fitting concession. Let her pump him with a fury, forcing him to pant and moan and damn-near howl. This could be her way of punishing him. Maybe she'd even caress his face, tracing his scar and knowing that he's too far gone now to do anything to stop her.

Her fingers don't like a fantasy anymore. Everything's becoming so real in his mind and he starts to grow dizzy as she changes their grip and digs her nails into him. If he were any less turned on it would be agonizing but now he has to grit his teeth at just how impossibly good it feels.

His body tightens when he finally lets himself give in. Buries his head into her hair and clings to her. She's twisting her hand like a corkscrew and he half wishes he could see her face. It's his turn to let her know what he's thinking. Show her how goddamn grateful he is that she's doing this. That she's here with him. Giving him exactly what he wants the way that he wants it.

And just like that he reaches the edge. Sinking his teeth as hard as he can into his free hand while the other drags his ecstasy out of him.

His fantasy of her shatters into staccato images. His hands in her hair. The smirk on her lips. Her body. Her hands. His own body. Impressions flashing like strobe behind his lids as he pumps himself.

He couldn't care less about the mess he makes as he collapses to a finish. Sticky, satiated, and panting against his ruined sheets. He allows his fantasy girl to leave him now. Picturing one last flash of her eyes glaring insolently up at him before she disappears.

As he slowly comes down he knows he should feel mortified. Maybe he does, but the shame is masked by a more pressing soreness. He can't even remember the last time he was this rough with himself. His cock literally aches. It feels like it might even be bruised from how hard he was pounding it.

And that's just so ridiculous that he starts to laugh. Not only did he jerk himself off to the point of friction burns but... kriff, he really is a masochist, isn't he? Next time it's her turn. He's going to make her pay for doing this to him.

Minutes go by in silence. Finally, he holds up his coated palm and inspects it. Flexing his fingers and watching the translucent strands stretch then snap. It's so disgusting and so wrong. That's exactly what he is and he should feel sickened with himself. Appalled by how desperate he is.

Except...

Kylo rolls over onto his side, snorting at how areas of his sheet are already sticking to his skin, and reaches for the box of tissues on the table with a shrug.

Ah, whatever. These things happen.

Author's Note:

This story is part of an ongoing series of semi-related Kylo/Rey fics:

Part 1: Bad Habits of a Vivid Imagination

Part 2: Just Like You Imagined (1st chapter only)

Part 3: Take No Prisoners (in progress)