Bad Samaritan | Kylo Ren

Careless

Tonight; different dreams vanquished your serenity, plagued your slumber.

Inimical visions of what you'd witnessed at the Club a few tedious nights prior begin to poison your conscious. Guilt was your gift of Grace for bystanding as your ex-comrade was scrutinized, tormented, rendered bloody for the information he'd fostered.

Kylo hadn't let up, not until he'd extracted every slew of inquiry possessing Jasek's mind— not until there was little mind left to meddle.

His harrowing, shrilling screams reverberate through your nightmares, his groveling tactile in the way you shift upon your crinkled sheets, his wails resonating with the wind that howls ominously beyond your window.

With a boisterous, raspy scream, you lurch from your desolating dreams, heaving to no avail, distress electrifying your veins.

Brawny arms instantly engulf you, swooping you into an equally as concrete chest. "Shh, I've got you," Kylo's voice was a baritone rumble, foreign in the blackness of the night— not the voice you'd accustomed yourself to in his absence.

A breath of relief emanates from your quivering lips, tears scorching your eyes. "I'm sorry." You whine, voice hoarse from the screams that had paralyzed your lungs, nestling your face into his sternum.

The scent of musk and familiarity that clings to his scarred, tattooed skin alleviates your senses, pacifying the frittering anxiety flaring through your immobile limbs.

Kylo tuts, tongue clucking to the roof of his mouth, as he caresses the length of your bare spine and braces you protectively to his frame. "Do not apologize," he whispers softly, although his voice was gravelly with fatigue. "It's alright, bambola. I got you." He murmurs into your sweat-slicken hair, chafing the pliantest kiss to your brow.

The door creaks open languidly, and Cardo pops his head in wearily, darkness encompassing his exhorted gaze. "You okay?" He examines you, concern lacing the undertones of his husked voice.

"She's fine," Kylo snipes, disrupting the meek response you'd parted your lips to utter.

Unflinching, Cardo stands his ground, his undeterred expression fixated on you. He raises a single brow, white-knuckling the door handle.

"I-I'm okay." You hiccup, voice cracking, a sniffle wracking your stutter. You muster a meaningless smile, lips a queasy line.

He nods curtly, "Just checking." He mumbles and leisurely peals the door shut, pattering away stoically, his heavy footsteps resounding.

You thought he'd be relieved that you no longer relied on him for this appeasement. But then again, he'd become so acclimated to bustling down the hall in the midst of the night to retrieve you and croon away your nightmares.

"It's okay." Kylo resumes diligent strokes, feathering wild strands of hair out of your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "Go back to sleep, darling. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

That was all it took, before you were consumed by exhaustion, coaxed back into an unfitful nights sleep.

***

"You are not leaving me on babysitting duty." Ap'lek hurdles up from his lethargic position on the couch, pointing a reprimanding finger at no one in particular. A furious gleam kindles in his eyes, as he allows them to rake over every member of the group individually, earnestly. "No fucking way, not while you all get to go on vacation."

Kylo blinks at him, unamused by the outburst, radiating divine authority. Tendrils of smoke billow into his face, careening from his Marblero. "Vacation." He echoes, deadpan, flicking off the ashes donning the end of his cigarette. "Risking my wife's safety and confiscating my location during my most wanted times, is far from a vacation, brother."