Blood and Fire: A Reylo Smut Sequel

"You're not doing this," he says, musing. "The effort would kill you. Can you see my surroundings?"

She doesn't answer the question. She just spits some self-righteous threats about how he is going to pay. He has to resist rolling his eyes and ignores her.

"I can't see yours," he says. "Just you." He allows his gaze to roll up and down the length of her greedily. "So no. This is something else."

Whatever is going on, the next question is: can he touch her?

He reaches out and grabs her arm. Her flesh feels warm and solid underneath his fingers. The sensation is so intense it makes him lightheaded, for real this time. In response, she slaps him hard across the face, and his skin where she dealt the blow tingles hotly. Anyone else, and he would kill them for such defiance.

But this is Rey.

He growls deep in his throat and grabs her other arm. Holding both, he pulls her tightly against him. He lowers his head to kiss her, and she bites him. So much fire in her... it's delicious and overwhelming.

They are still in the hall, and he realizes that he is alarming the handful of passersby with his behavior. An officer and a few stormtroopers do an anxious about face, casting furtive glances over their shoulders as they retreat. Only he can see Rey, evidently. To them he is just grappling with a phantom. He already has a reputation for instability, he knows that. No need to lend credence to the idea that he has finally gone insane.

He pulls her back into his quarters, and she struggles in his grip but not hard enough to rip herself free. He knows she could. The sensation of her anger streaming into him is hot like a young sun. She hates him. She still wants to kill him. But he knows that is only half of the story. She does not wrench herself free because of all the other things she feels. Lust and self-loathing. Craving. Loneliness.

What a pair they are.

He slaps the door control closed and shoves her against the wall, pinning her there with his body. She shivers at his touch, but when he looks down to meet her gaze, it is pure anger.

"What?" he asks. "No protest?"

He can see her teeth grind and her jaw flex, but she stays silent. Through the bond he can feel her resolve melting. Her will to resist him is bleeding out of her with each passing moment. This is why he has not been able to kill her. Because one day her will to resist the dark side will crumble, the way it crumbles before him now. And, sweet Sith Lords, it is so delicious watching her try to resist and fail. Every. Time. Has he ever wanted anyone or anything more in his short, violent life? No. She is everything.

"I didn't think so," he says in response to her silence. And this time when bends his head to kiss her, she opens her mouth and runs her tongue along his lip, tasting his blood where she bit him just moments earlier.

Her desire is winning, but the anger has not left her. She buries her hands in his hair and yanks it painfully, even as she continues to kiss him greedily. He grinds himself against her and savors the moan she makes into his mouth. She lets go of his hair and surprises him with a forceful shove, kicking at his feet as she does, and he is knocked to the floor.

He stares up at her from the deck as she looms over him. There is a weighted moment where he thinks she might kick him or run. He doesn't realize that he was holding his breath until... she kneels on top of him. Straddling him at the hips, she looks him in the eye and begins to grind herself against him. His head arches back, and the breath he had been holding comes out of him as a moan. He can feel his cock hardening, twitching to life as it fills with blood. She feels it too, and she shifts so that she can work open the fastening of his pants. He grips and massages her thighs as she does, and when she reaches into his undergarments and takes hold of his cock, he gasps her name.

Then she stands, and he watches, riveted, as she removes her slacks. Naked from the waist down, she settles herself over him again. His heart is beating violently against his ribs as she holds his erection and brushes the tip of it against her wetness. She is so wet. His whole body seizes tight at the sensation. His need for her has become a physical pain, and he feels as though he is dying the sweetest of deaths as she lowers herself onto his erection, pressing him all the way into her. She cries out, a sweet sound of longing and desire. Her eyebrows knit themselves together, her eyes close, and it looks like she might cry.

After a moment of stillness, she opens her eyes to stare back at him. Their gazes locked, she begins to ride him, hard, her powerful legs drawing her up and down, up and down. The wet, muscular heat of her around his hardness as she moves, slippery now, is rapture. He can feel his scalp begin to tingle and the hairs on his arms and legs raise up. He is totally lost in her, in the moment, wanting it to last forever. His fingers dig into the meat of her thighs as she moves, and he arches in ecstasy on the deck underneath her.

Then she slaps him.

His eyes fly open, and his rage burns. She matches his animosity, even as she continues to fuck him.

"Monster," she accuses, and she raises her hand to strike him again.

He doesn't let her. Seizing her by the throat, he flips over and rolls on top of her, keeping himself buried inside of her as he does. Now, he has her pinned to the deck, making it just a little hard for her to breathe with his hand around her throat. He pounds her with a vengeance. He'll show her for hitting him like that. Disobedient savage.

She squirms beneath him, moaning and wailing, crying his name and begging. Begging him to go harder. He knows that in this moment she is completely and utterly his. All of her resistance is gone. In this moment, she will do anything, say anything, if it means that he gives her what she wants. And the power of that ownership makes him even harder.

He looks at her, face flushed and lips deep red. Her eyes are closed, and he can see that her lashes are wet with small brilliant tears. They streak down her temples and into her hair. She snakes a hand between her legs to stimulate herself, and he knows she is close. He doesn't know how long this strange illusion will last, so he allows himself near the edge as well, waiting for her to reach the summit. His body is wet with sweat, the dark fabric of his clothes sticking to his skin, and still, he drives himself into her furiously thrusting, clenching.

Her eyes open wide, staring at him as though stunned, and she cries out loudly. It is almost a scream.

"Yes! Kylo! Yes! Oh fu--"

Her eyes squeeze shut as she begins to shake, violent spasms wracking her body as though possessed. He can feel them with his cock, a rhythmic contraction around him, and he allows himself to go with her. It is as though the artificial gravity of the ship fails, and he is floating weightless, his body convulsing as he ejaculates forcefully into her.

When their contractions begin to slow, he opens his eyes to look at her. She stares back at him with her beautiful chestnut eyes. He can't read her expression. The feelings he can sense in her are so mixed that he cannot imagine what she is thinking.

Then she is gone, and he is left lying on the deck alone, staring at nothing.

Chapter 4: Everyone is hiding from something (and hiding something).

Kylo vanishes as suddenly as he appeared. Rey finds herself on her back staring at the ceiling of her hut, unmoving from where he fucked her on the floor. Curiously, she reaches between her legs and inserts fingers into herself. Bringing them to her nose, she can smell his semen on her fingertips.

It was real. Not a dream or a waking hallucination. Real.

She closes her eyes and feels more tears slide down her cheeks. She is losing ground to him, she can feel it. She becomes more his each time they meet, whether in the flesh, in dream or... whatever this is. And this new development, this phantom appearance, terrifies her.

"Rey?" calls Master Skywalker, his voice muffled by the door of the hut.

She flushes hotly, imagining what he must have heard, hoping he confused it for something other than what it was? Guilt and shame flood her as springs quickly to her feet. Belatedly, she remembers the blaster round she fired. She turns her head and looks at the hole it bored in the wall of the hut.

She hurriedly puts her pants back on and stumbles out the door where Master Skywalker is impatiently calling her name.

"What's that about?" he demands, pointing at the hole. Several of the Lanais islanders are grumbling as they inspect the damage and casting her what she can only interpret as disapproving glances.

"I was cleaning my blaster, and it went off."

The excuse feels weak, but Master Skywalker doesn't inquire further. He simply turns and begins walking up the mountain, not looking back to see if she is following. It is time for her first lesson.

And the lesson cracks Rey's mind open like an egg.

It is an existential shift of cosmic proportions, yet it takes place as she sits perfectly still on the cool stone. Her awareness expands far beyond her body to the entirety of the island, to all that is living, breathing, dying, rotting, and being born. The beauty of this all-encompassing vision is breathtaking, all the extremes and opposites, the tension of life and death in motion, and she basks in this new understanding like a lizard in the sun.

"And between it all?" Skywalker prompts her.

"Balance," she says, eyes still closed. "An energy. A Force." She smiles softly at this.

"And inside you?" he asks.

"Inside me..." She hesitates, her mind going swiftly to the life that she fears has taken root within her, growing like a parasite. But she wills herself to understand Master Luke and to answer his actual question, not the one she fears. "Inside me, the same Force."

"And this is the lesson," her teacher tells her. "That Force does not belong to the Jedi. To say that if the Jedi die, the light dies, it's vanity. Can you feel that?"

Then something brushes the edges of her awareness. Something both frightening and familiar. It raises goose bumps on her skin, but still, she pursues it with her awareness until she finds the borders of a pulsing darkness.

"There's something else... beneath the island," she says. "A place. A dark place."

"Balance," he says softly, knowingly. "Powerful light, powerful darkness."

"It's cold. It's calling me." Fear coils around Rey like a snake. She can feel herself being drawn into it, just as she is always drawn inexorably to Kylo Ren, a longing in her overpowering her senses.

"Resist it, Rey," Skywalker says, a new, sharp fear curdling the tone of his voice. When she doesn't answer, he calls her name. "Rey?" Horror now crusts his words. "Rey!"

But she cannot heed his instructions or even her own internal voice as it tells her not to go. She enters the darkness, shivering, seeking answers, but something goes... wrong. It invades her, the coldness forcing itself into her, down her throat, and she feels as though she is sinking beneath icy waves. Overwhelmed with terror, her mind goes blank. Everything goes dark.

When she returns to herself, she is no longer sitting but crouched on all fours on the ground, panting and with a clammy sheen of sweat on her skin.

"You went straight to the dark." Skywalker is frightened, accusatory. He doesn't ask what happened or if she is okay, but stands a careful distance from her with a look of wide-eyed shock.

Rey gets slowly back to her feet, supporting herself on the rock where she had previously been sitting. How had she moved from there?

"That place was trying to show me something," she says.

"It offered you something you needed. And you didn't even try to stop yourself."

The words are hot, burning into her like a brand. Her mind immediately goes to Kylo and the look on his face as he rode her to climax only hours ago. Need. She shakes the thought off, bringing her mind back to something else, something strange...

"But I didn't see you," she says to her now retreating teacher, his back turned to leave. "Nothing from you." As she says it, her eyes go wide with the realization. "You've closed yourself off from the Force." She feels disappointment settle over her like a heavy blanket; that was why he hadn't heard Leia's calls. He had made himself deaf. "Of course you have."

Skywalker refuses to acknowledge the comment; he will not be distracted. He turns only his head to look at her as though she is a viper coiled to strike.

"I've seen this raw strength only once before. In Ben Solo. It didn't scare me enough then. It does now."

Skywalker stalks away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Ben Solo is dead, she thinks in both sadness and anger. Skywalker's words have wounded her, but she knows that he is only voicing the very thing that she fears about herself. The thing that Kylo is trying to convince her of: that she is a creature of darkness, that the dark is ultimately her destiny, and that she belongs there with him.

It is clear now that she cannot voice these fears to Master Skywalker. Leia had hoped that he would help Rey with her struggle, embrace her, and guide her through this difficulty. But the cantankerous old man has closed himself off, to the galaxy, to the Force, and... to her. Now she sees why. If she were to confess her strange connection with Kylo and the extent of their relationship, she would be met with only horror and rejection. She cannot trust Skywalker with the secret that she had hoped he would free her from, and the knowledge is a sharp pain, as though he has buried a knife between her ribs.

But maybe the Force can give her one answer to her predicament.

She resumes her seated position on the rock, and once again, opens up her mind. Instead of allowing her awareness to journey outward, she draws it into herself, searching. She looks, desperately hoping she will find, simply, that she is alone. Then her mind brushes up against something subtle, just a wisp of energy, something so minute that likely only she can sense it. Its discovery ices the blood in her veins.

There, buried deep within her, is a living creature that she conceived with a murderer.

Guilt washes over her. Guilt for what she has done, for who she is, and for the fact that she doesn't want the child. She is just like her parents. The realization breaks something within her. They didn't want her, and in turn, she does not want her own child. Tears roll down her cheeks. Still, she fears what the creature will become. With so much darkness in both its parents, how could it not become something of unspeakable evil?

It is raining when she returns to the Millennium Falcon. After checking in with Chewie, she goes outside to marvel at it. Rain is still novel to her, and this strange place, so abundant with water, is a marvel. She is looking out over the sea when she tenses instinctively.

She turns to find Kylo Ren standing there on the grass. The father of her child. She shudders. His eerily beautiful face is both cool and curious.

"Why is the Force connecting us?" he asks. "You and I."

The question makes her angry. She doesn't want a relationship with this man. She is almost as far away from him as the capacious extent of the galaxy will allow, and yet, there he stands, asking her stupid questions.

"Murderous snake," she spits at him. "You're too late. You lost. I found Skywalker."

She doesn't mention that Skywalker is a crusty, pain in the ass who is refusing to leave this forsaken rock. Or that it's her rock, the very same island that Kylo pulled from her dreams...

Kylo approaches her slowly, deliberately, and to her horror, she feels rooted to the spot. He might be able to use a Force hold on her, but he doesn't need to, not when her own body betrays her. He stands so close to her that they are almost touching and gazes down at her softly. How is it that he seems so cool and reserved now, and she is the one so fiery hot with anger? When did the tables turn?

He lifts a gloved hand to her face, and her eyes close as he runs his fingers down her cheek, desire flaring to wild life inside of her. And with it, disgust.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Kylo asks, bringing his mouth closer to her ear. His breath is warm on her skin, tickling her hair. His hand continues to slide down from her cheek, and gently but possessively, he wraps his fingers around her throat. Still, she does not resist, cannot bring herself to move away.

"The night I destroyed his temple," he whispers in her ear. "Did he tell you why?"

Her eyes fly open at the question. "I know everything I need to know about you," she snaps.

"You do?" he asks, his voice still soft. He pulls back to gaze into her eyes, searching, and she can feel the emotional tempest that he is hiding beneath the smooth mask of his face. Always a mask with him. "Ah, you do. You have that look in your eyes. From the forest. You called me a monster."

"You are a monster."

His eyes fall to her mouth, and with his gaze fixed there, he whispers, "Yes, I am."

He brings his mouth close to hers and as light as a whisper, brushes his lips across hers. She shudders and her lips part involuntarily.

"I am a monster," he says. "What does that make you, my savage desert creature?"

She shivers and can feel her body tightening in anticipation. She hates it, this effect he has on her and how powerless she is to resist him. He slides his scarred, clean-shaven cheek against hers, and she has to forcibly resist the urge to wrap her arms around him.

"I know you, better than anyone else," he growls softly.

His gloved fingers, still at her throat, tighten subtly and emphatically. She feels a deep almost painful ache in her chest, knowing that he is right. This is the need that he satisfies for her. Not just a carnal one but an emotional one. He knows her and accepts her. Wants her.

"I know what you are, scavenger," he says. "You are mine."

Then at last he kisses her, forcefully. All the emotions he has been hiding come out in a cascade of lust, anger, pain, and loneliness. She kisses him back, tangling her fingers in his hair in a rush of madness. A wave crashes against the rocky shore, spraying them with cold saltwater, and he is gone.

Her sleep is fitful and dreamless that night. Training the next day does nothing to dispel the anxiety and restlessness that fill her. She keeps thinking about her friends, trapped in a fight against the First Order while she sits on her hands at the ass end of the galaxy, waiting for Skywalker.

Finally, at sunset, Skywalker gives her the next lesson.

It is bleak.

"The legacy of the Jedi is failure," he tells her. "Hypocrisy, hubris."

He details their mistakes, their failings, and the catastrophes that ensued.

"It was a Jedi Master who was responsible for the training and creation of Darth Vader," he concludes, as though it proves a point.

"And a Jedi who saved him," Rey says, undeterred. "Yes, the most hated man in the galaxy. But you saw that there was conflict inside him. You believed that he wasn't gone. That he could be turned."

She cannot help but think of Kylo Ren as she says this, of... Ben. She can't help but wonder what it would be like if, instead of her being seduced into darkness with him, he could be turned away from the darkness. If they could be together in the light. Be, and she feels an ache in her chest at the idea, a happy family.

Skywalker only continues with his litany of failures. Including his biggest failure, the one he holds most personally: his role in the creation of Kylo Ren.

"In my hubris, I thought I could train him," Skywalker says, resignation and sadness weighing heavy on his stooped shoulders. He tells her how he started the Jedi training temple and describes his growing concerns about Ben. The memory is so painful that he moves away, not facing her as he continues. "By the time I realized I was no match for the darkness rising in him, it was too late."