The Art of Broken Pieces

The Porgs are Not Invited to This Chapter

There was a trembling need in the way that Rey attacked him, a vulnerability that cried out for familiarity, and home, and hands that wouldn't let her go. Poe braced his back against the column, hands sliding under her shirt and up the smooth lines of her back. His fingers played along the ridges of her spine, massaging lower and lower into the waistband of her pants as she arched against him in response. She was sensitive there, hips pressing forward against his in answer to the insistent pressure. He knew the map of her body, what made her gasp with surprise and pleasure, what made her melt. He had memorized her slowly as he taught her what it was to want more from another's hands, taking the time to learn what made Rey... Rey.

His hands slid lower, fabric collecting at his wrists as he cupped the soft swell of her buttocks, lifting her against him. He moved his kiss away from her lips, down her jaw and the line of her throat, tasting the salt of sweat and the inland sea through which they had swum. Each of his lovers had a flavor all their own, and Rey's was the sweetest.

Heat from her hands on his torso swirled down from her fingernails, pooling lower as she moved against him. With a low growl, Poe exercised enough control to still his rising desire for her and separate them just enough to push away from the column and take her hands in his.

"Trust me." He whispered into her hair with a lopsided grin, enjoying the haze of need in her dark eyes. "The ground is never as comfortable as it looks." He dragged her towards the villa doors, and the one room he had claimed for his own.

Rey leaned into Poe's back as he paused to let the door scan his hand and face. She slid her hands into his pants and cupped his hipbones, kissing his neck. Poe hadn't changed—he felt the same, he tasted the same, and the rough sweetness of his hands had already set her skin alight. She was perhaps five centimeters shorter, and so the tan skin at the back of his hairline was easy to reach. When he opened his room, she disengaged enough to let them walk in.

It was not a very Poe room, and Rey could immediately see why he felt unnatural here. All the furnishings had been carved out of the same marble as the rest of the villa, and though his stuff had done something to scruff the place up, the carefully tended plants and tinkling indoor streams were far too peaceful for a mind like his, always full of gears and grease and people. The wall had a massive window that was clearly the sole reason Poe had chosen the room, and now it offered a view of the stars and a lake so mirror-serene it almost made it look like space.

"This is beautiful," she said, releasing him enough to get around in front of him. His shirt gathered at her wrists as she slid both hands up his back. "I'd go crazy here too."

Poe laughed, sliding his arms around her waist and slowly walking her backwards towards the bed near the tall window. "I know, right? All this pretty shit is enough to give me nightmares." He grinned at her, ducking to kiss the tip of her nose. "Well, that and lady Hutts."

As the low edge of the be hit the back of her knees Poe halted, hands teasing up her shirt and pulling it over her head. "So..." He purred, leaning in and nuzzling her neck and nipping softly along the join of shoulder and throat. "You haven't forgot me, right?" He pushed her backward, and she landed in the cloudy bed with a laugh. Poe shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his own shirt off before leaning over her, crawling forward like a stalking creature until she was grinning up at him, eager to play the game. "Because if you have," he began threateningly, sliding a leg between hers. "I may have to do all sorts of things to remind you."

Rey sucked in a sharp, happy gasp as his threat sank straight into her with a spike of pure lust. It was hard to keep the smile from her face when he was hitting her with the full force of his charm, and she bit her lip to keep her face straight, but lost the battle and laughed.