Torn / Kylo|Ben x Reader

•accident•

A few days have passed, and you have spent majority of your time in Kylo's arms.

After Adeline left, leaving you both with almost a fifteen minute voice recording of her owning up to her vile antics, the two of you were formulating a somewhat plan on how to tackle the issue looming over your heads. You knew it was illegal to record someone without their consent, but you also knew in some cases, the court will use it if given a viable reason to do so. And if Kylo's lawyer is as good as Kylo says, then you have no doubt that he'd be able to incorporate it in his case.

Even though you had dirt against Adeline, it doesn't change the fact that the likelihood of Kylo being arrested for the murders of Hux and Chris is still incredibly high. Adeline wanted Kylo to suffer.

Between her and Palpatine, you knew they would come up with what ever bullshit they could find to use against Kylo. Even though there would be no evidence of Kylo's encounter with either men. It was still their word against his.

You were incredibly on edge about it all.

Kylo had been on the phone to his lawyer earlier this morning, giving him a heads up about what could potentially happen in the near future. And you would occasionally hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Judging by the way they both spoke to each other, you had a feeling that his lawyer was used to these kinds of dirty jobs. Perhaps he was even dirty himself.

Now, you were sprawled out on the couch with a movie playing, Killer curled up beside you. An expensive and thick blanket was wrapped around your bottom half as you snacked on a bowl of popcorn Kylo had made you before he went for a shower.

Your hair was a mess from the early morning sex before hand. Your body still ached a little if you moved a certain way. Having your face smushed into the mattress while he fucked you roughly from behind would do that to you.

You could smell him before he rounded the corner to the living room. His cologne was strong and full of spice and leather. He walked out shirtless in a pair of sweatpants. His hair was still damp and the pale skin that covered his torso glistened in the sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

If you weren't so exhausted, you'd want him all over again.

"You smell good," you said, casting your eyes back to the movie London has fallen.

He just hummed as he walked behind the couch to stand behind you, leaning down to pluck a piece of popcorn from your fingers before tossing it into his mouth, crunching down on it and kissing your cheek.

"So do you." He purred, kissing your neck this time.

"I still smell like sex." You grumbled.

"Exactly." He chuckled before pulling away to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. "Want one?"

You shook your head. "No thanks." You smiled.

He shut the fridge and made his way back to you, sitting down where your legs were. He picked your legs up and placed them over his lap, his fingers running gently up and down your bare claves. You were only in your underwear and one of his hoodies.

He cast his dark eyes to the movie, his fingers still trailing up and down your legs.

You took the moment to stare at his side profile. His brow pinched when a man was stabbed and tossed to the side as Gerard Butler made his way through a tunnel of some sort. His dark eyes watched the movie intently, his lips pursed ever so slightly. His angular nose only highlighted his sharp features. His hair, still damp, stuck to his neck in some spots, allowing those large ears of his to peak through.