Bad Samaritan | Kylo Ren

Traitors

Warning:
There is verbal violence and
briefly abusive elements portrayed
through this chapter, and an angsty ending.

***

"What the fuck did you pack?" Ap'lek groans, slumping his shoulders slovenly, hauling your cramped suitcases— alongside his— up the gleaming ramp mounting to the private jet.

"An outfit for every possible occasion." You grin egregiously wide, and he frowns. "I told you I could carry my own things."

Kylo clucks his tongue in admonishment, large hand engulfing yours elegantly. "Nonsense, tesoro." He gruffs, suavely escorting you up the slanted, careening ramp.

"It's hotter than Satan's balls out here," Trudgen fusses lamently, hefting his own luggage, a sheen of perspiration glistening off of his brow.

The interior of the jet was opulent; fluorescent white walls brimmed by polished, oval windows, accompanied by lavish velvet seats. An urban-embellished bar ran along one of the curved walls, counters a glimmering onyx. Waxed mosaic clacked beneath your stilettos.

You plummet down into one of the seats, the mauve velvet cushioning your enthused fall. "This is... marvelous." You fumble for the words to describe the enchanted space, dramatically draping an arm across your damp forehead.

"What are you doing?" Kylo drawls languidly, and you unpeal your eyes to analyze his earnest, incredulous expression. "We have our own private space."

You suppress a giddy smile, plucking at the french-tipped crescent curve of your nail. "Where is it?" You crane your neck, peering over your shoulder to examine the huddled, pristine jet.

Kylo scoops you up in response, slinging you vigorously over his broad, designer-clad shoulder. "Ky!" You squeal through a strained giggle, flailing to no avail, as he hauls you through a chiffon drape and down a slender aisle.

It was a brisk trip; the jet was only cavernous enough to stash the Knights, a condemning restroom, and a cubicle-sized space designated for you and Kylo.

He slings you onto an ornate couch perched amid the private sector, the velvet sybaritic against your slick frame, ricocheting softly beneath the application of weight.

You giggle, meticulously threading your fingers through Kylo's hair, as he props a knee between the expanding space between your legs and seeks out your lips.

"Tesoro?" He purrs, wintergreen breaths fanning sensuously across your face, eyes analyzing your lips as he hovers over you.

"Hm?" You hum liltingly, leisurely drawing his face into yours by the fingers you had skimmed through his dark main.

He applies a chaste kiss to your warm, inviting lips, grinning deviously as he careens back, disobliging. This evokes a protesting whimper from you as he withdraws, settling with his face burrowed into the crook of your neck, pressing wet, scant kisses.

"I was just wondering..." he murmurs, tongue prodding a pattern upon your collarbone, a relinquished sigh easing through your lips. "Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

"Perhaps a few times," you chuckle breathily, rolling your hips skyward, curating friction amid your compressed bodies.

"A few times won't do." He simpers, lips navigating a molten, hot path along your jawbone.