kingdom come undone | Kylo Ren x Reader

part one | chapter seven

A glittering, opulent, nameless club somewhere in the vast expanses of the galaxy. The details are hazy, as most details in dreams are. The people in the club have only the vague impressions of faces, no actual features present, your sleeping mind not bothering to create faces for those who were, ultimately, unimportant.

Well, all but one.

Kylo Ren is staring at you.

As he should be, when you sit perched on his lap, one of his hands resting on the small of your back to support you, but also as a show of possession, of ownership. Here, you belong to him. His other hand rests on your inner thigh, stroking the skin with a feather-light touch. With barely enough pressure that if you weren't hyper aware of it you wouldn't register that he is even touching you at all. He's inching closer to where you want- no, need- him. But not quite fast enough for your taste.

You whine, squirming, trying to both add friction and somehow entice him to hasten his pace. One of your arms is slung around his shoulders, ensuring a lack of distance between your two bodies, and your hand is almost claw-like, holding onto his shoulder with a vice-like grip. Trying to further coax him to speed up, your clasp hopefully being uncomfortable enough that he will give you what you want without any fuss.

But you should know better.

His only reaction to your pathetic effort at tempting him into giving you what you covet is to, paradoxical to your desire, stop stroking.

Before you can protest this absence, he delivers a cautionary smack to the skin he had previously been caressing. It doesn't hurt, but it is a warning that he is not unwilling to punish you, that he can switch on a dime and become merciless if you do not bend to his whim. Not that you didn't already know that. As if that wasn't what drew you to him.

You stop your squirming, instead turning your head to press a delicate kiss to his jaw. Asking for forgiveness through your attention to his skin, peppering small kisses along his jawline up to his ear. You nibble gently on the lobe, not biting or marking. Proving that you can be good, be docile.

"Please, Kylo-" Your voice is breathy, barely more than a whisper into his ear.

"No." He says, his voice firm. But he does start stroking your skin again, his touch closer to where your thighs meet your hips, to the center of your being, albeit moving towards it at an achingly slow pace. "And is that what you want to be calling me right now?"

Shit. Right.

"...No, sir." You pull your face away from his, looking him in the eyes once more.

"Good girl," Your cheeks heat, and you know without even needing to check that you were wet enough to feel it through your underthings.

Which he then confirms by lightly dancing his fingers over it, humming at the damp fabric. "I've barely touched you and you're practically soaked... are you such a needy slut that you'd let me fuck you here, in front of all these strangers?"

"Ah...no- yes, I want..." You gasp, his touch finally reaching your clothed sex. He pauses, waiting for you to finish speaking, telling him what you want. You can feel his warmth through the fabric, and you need him to actually start touching you, begin helping you release the tension that had been building up since before you could even remember. "...it." Your dignity, again, causes you to shy away from expressing what you really desired from him.

He hums in mock-disappointment at your inability to properly plead for what you want.

"Well, you'll have to wait."