Encounter on Lothal (Kylo/OC)

Chapter 4

Arriving back at The Supremacy, Ren limped as discreetly as he could from his shuttle, intent on making his way directly to his quarters without notice. He moved slowly, trying to appear as if he was casually strolling the hallways, but those familiar with his behavior aboard the gigantic spacecraft were accustomed to his quick, stalking stride, and they made a mental note that he was injured. Nevertheless, he passed unimpeded until he arrived back at his quarters and collapsed on the bed, the small naps he'd been afforded by autopilot during the return flight doing little to restore his strength.

He slept for hours until his quarter's comm unit toned in the darkness. He could barely hear it at first but then as he became more conscious, he realized he wasn't waking from a normal night's sleep ‑ he was still dressed in his entire regalia, cape to boots. Rising quickly and trying to pull himself together, he barked in annoyance at his visitor. "Come!"

Qaderos was on the other side of the doorway, his obsequious persona ready to see what favors he could glean in exchange for his role in Ren's rescue.

"My Lord Commander, how well you look!" Qaderos flattered him. "We were so worried about you!"

"Save it," Ren shot back, "I know you helped Talurra, but I also know it wasn't your idea and you don't do anything unless there's something in it for you, so what do you want?" he demanded, peeling off his thick black gloves.

"A small favor to be sure, My Lord, but, if you could see your way clear to asking General Hux to install a few more refreshers in our quarters–"

"No."

"Or perhaps some additional private quarters–"

"No."

"And we could always use some extra furniture for the foyer–"

"I'll see what I can do," Ren finally relented as he sat on the bed, doffing his stiff, bantha-hide boots.

"My gratitude is without end, My Lord," Qaderos half-bowed as he saw himself out.

"Neither is your greed," Ren muttered under his breath after the door closed.

After stripping off his dusty uniform, the young commander loped exhaustedly into the shower, leaning against the back wall and letting the steaming water flood down his tired, dusty body. The small shower he'd had back on the shuttle had done little to help him truly clean up. As he remembered the encounter and the resulting fight between himself and Tana, he experienced a rush of mixed emotions.

He soaped himself with the sponge, carefully favoring his injuries, and thought about how attentive she'd tried to be toward him, how devoted she was to her duty, but then how she cringed at his touch and how unwilling she was to provide him the physical relief he requested. He'd never had to make an effort with women before ‑ they came when they were told and did as they were bid. They didn't question, they didn't shrink away, and they didn't refuse him. They never refused him. Yet, here was this woman, balking at pleasuring him, fighting him even ‑ and not in the fun way he usually enjoyed; the sweaty, tense wrestling matches where he overpowered the female as she tried to bite him or kick and fight... his manhood was swelling at the very thought of it.

No, this girl wanted to dictate what happened to her, as well as when and how. Who did she think she was?! He was Kylo Ren, for suns' sake, he was one step away from the highest position in the First Order! She needed to know her place, and it was where he told her.

What he couldn't admit to himself was that her refusal of him had hurt his ego, and the rejection raised fears in him he couldn't confront: that he was inadequate, that he was unwanted and unneeded, the same feelings he grew up with.