Work Text:
34 ABY, Resurgent-class Star Destroyer Finalizer
The dream leaves Kylo Ren panting and covered in sweat. It’s been months since he first saw her –the girl– in his night visions, and this time, as the last one, it’s been a nightmare. She’s in a small room with other people, incapacitated, machines sucking her life from her body, a pale, fat Crolute laughing beside her as he rubs something on her skin. He dry heaves at the thought; she’s in danger, and he needs to do something to save her.
He doesn’t even know her name, but he knows her intimately, having seen her in recurrent dreams and visions since he was ten. In the beginning, he thought she was a seed planted by Snoke to toy with him and his loyalty, but he recently discovered that the Supreme Leader has no idea who the girl is. And this can mean only one thing: that girl is the only thing that he can call his, truly his–everything else belongs to Snoke, even his own body–and he keeps her safe in a small drawer hidden behind a wall of beskar erected in his mind. Snoke can’t find her, or he’ll order him to kill her. He knows that. Kylo would die before hurting her.
He gets up, splashes cold water on his face, fixes his helmet into place, and takes the first turbolift to the hangar where his Upsilon -class Command Shuttle is docked. Lieutenant Tavson is already on board, as usual, and Ren only needs his word to override any protocol set by the First Order.
“We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he announces to Tavson. “Twelve troopers.”
“Destination?”
“Western Reaches,” he blurts, his mouth almost moving on its own volition, like his subconscious knew where the girl was for all this time, deciding to reveal that detail to him only now. “We’re going to Jakku.”
*****
Kylo Ren can sense her as they approach the desert planet. He can feel her underground, her body wasting away from the lack of sun and the meager nutrients they feed her intravenously. His heart sinks as he feels her essence being sucked from her through a machine that pumps and pumps, pausing only for the Crolute to administer her and her peers anesthetic lotions on their tired skin.
Thankfully, she’s not aware of what is happening to her: they are injecting drugs alongside her nutrients, drugs that keep the Force flowing in her veins on a leash, drugs that induce her body to produce and produce without end. He shudders at the thought.
They land near a large settlement called Niima, mainly made up of tents and ramshackle barracks. Followed by his troopers, Ren asks about the Crolute, and an old woman cleaning rubbish with a dirty rag tells him that he’s at the dairy, one of the few buildings of the outpost. That word causes a shiver to crawl up his spine, and he starts running towards the dilapidated construction, white-clad troopers at his feet.
The building is small, its walls eroded by sand, and he kicks the metal door open with his boot. There are stairs in front of him, stairs leading towards a dark, cold place. He commands his troopers to wait outside, and descends the stairs alone, lightsaber ignited in his right fist, until he reaches the underground room he’d seen in his last nightmare. Now that he’s inside the building, he can feel her even stronger, her raw, untamed power calling to him like a flame calls to a moth.
It will be difficult to forget what he sees there: illuminated by the crackling red light of his weapon, dozens of nearly lifeless bodies are on display, almost as if to welcome his presence. They’re females of several species, restricted to chairs, their breasts connected to transparisteel and durasteel tubes, endlessly sucking, and taking, and stealing from their bodies. He barely represses a gag, concentrating upon the girl’s Force signature.
She’s in another room. Ren turns down a corridor, but before he can reach the room at the end of it, the Crolute appears, his enormous body filling the small passage. It's quick work–his blob of a head rolls on the floor after one swing of Kylo’s lightsaber–and after a couple more steps, he’s finally in the room, kneeling at her feet.
Her body is slumped on a chair with rags tying her calves and wrists to its feet and armrests. She is skinny, her once lean muscles now withering in captivity, tubes and catheters coming out of her body. Her breasts are the only clean parts of her–the tubes she’s connected to have deformed her mounds into pointy cones. Rhythmically, a whitish liquid comes out of her nipples in short spurts, soon siphoned into the machine: she’s a dairy animal, kept alive only to rob her of her milk. Little more than a beast. If only they could see how powerful and bright she is in his dreams, they would kneel and cower in terror, groveling at her feet.
Tears begin to pool in Ren’s eyes, and he destroys the apparatus granting her survival with his saber, slashing through the tubing, until the whole machine falls to the ground in pieces. The pumps sucking on her breasts fall down, freeing her mounds; they’re small yet heavy, and the contrast between her bright, white milk and her dirty skin is almost eerie. He can’t find the strength to avert his gaze from the streaks of liquid that continue to fall from her nipples, briefly losing himself in the hypnotizing flow of white gold.
Ren gently cuts her restraints, and lifts her in his arms. She’s tall, but she doesn’t weigh much; who knows how much time she’s been held captive here. She’s extremely weak, but he can feel a light calling to him, like the smallest star in a sea of darkness: her Force signature sings, and he answers. She’s strong, undoubtedly stronger than she knows, and he’ll be her teacher.
*****
Ren calls a medidroid to his private quarters to check on the girl. After being able to sneak back almost undetected, he doesn’t want to attract too much attention to her. She’ll be listed on the official registers as a native of Jakku, an apprentice to his Knights, personally selected by himself to join his élite guards.
She’s on his bed right now, the droid prodding and beeping and injecting nutrients into her starved limbs. He perused her mind while she was still in his arms, on the shuttle: there are dreams of seas and islands; a ship leaving a planet as she cries; and himself as a ten-year-old boy, alone, in an empty corridor. There can be no doubt: she's the girl he’s seen in his visions since he was a child. It’s her.
“Her body is severely depleted, Sir,” the droid states. “It also looks like she’s lactating. Would you like me to inject her with medication to halt her milk production? The effect would be immediate.”
Ren’s heart skips a beat. Should he make this decision for her? His gaze falls on her chest, covered by a thin sheet: her nipples are hard, well visible under the sheer fabric. Will she begin to leak? The prospect is equally frightening and titillating, and he barely suppresses his instinct to cut the droid into pieces for having proposed such an unholy solution.
“No,” he says. “Don’t give her anything.”
“Sir, not being able to express her milk can be painful for her, and possibly lead to infection. She will wake up in a few minutes, and this ship isn’t equipped with pumps to assist her.”
Ren’s lip trembles. “We’ll manage. Now go away.”
The droid obeys, and Ren crouches at the foot of the bed. The girl’s eyes are moving behind her eyelids, like she’s dreaming, but he doesn’t dare to take a peek, this time; she’s already had so much taken from her, and he doesn’t want to be the last of a long series of thieves. He exhales behind his mask, his sigh roughened by the filters.
*****
The girl wakes up with a jolt. “Where am I?” she asks, a hand on her heaving chest, tired eyes quickly roaming the unfamiliar space.
The sheet covering her breasts falls down, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact; Ren, on the other hand, feels his ears become red under the helmet, and something deep and uncomfortable awakens in the depth of his guts. He has to look away.
He clears his throat, feigning a nonchalance he doesn’t have. “You’re my guest.”
She doesn’t answer, but she tries to get on her feet, first crouching on the bed, then putting a naked foot on the cold floor, her eyes never leaving Ren’s form. But predictably, she’s still too weak from her months of captivity, and her legs can’t support her weight. Ren is on her in a span of seconds, helping her to the bed again. She’s trembling, her eyes never leaving his mask.
“Are we on a ship?” she finally rasps.
“Yes. It’s my ship, a Resurgent- class Star Destroyer. You’re safe here.”
“I need to go back to Jakku,” she whimpers.
“Why? You were kept prisoner, milked like an animal, living attached to a machine.”
“I… What year is it?” she asks, her eyes unfocused.
“34 ABY.”
“No,” she whispers. “That’s not possible. Plutt gave me the medicine last week… I can’t stay here, my family will return any day–”
“What’s your name?” Ren asks, taking her hands in his. They’re small, cold, dirty.
“I–Rey. It’s Rey. Bring me back.”
Her eyes are green.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re–” she exclaims, tears pooling in her eyes. “You’re just a monster in a mask!”
Ren lets go of her hands then, and promptly unlatches his helmet. Its hydraulics whirr in the silence of the room, and he removes it, looking at her through the dark locks of hair that fall across his forehead as the helmet comes off. Rey winces, almost as if she didn’t expect him to be human, her inquisitive gaze burning on his features. A small part of him hopes she’s liking what she sees. Then, she lowers her face, her eyes focusing on her breasts: there are droplets of milk beading under her left nipple, and she wipes them with a finger, looking at them carefully.
“I need to–” she whispers. “I need–”
“Rey,” he murmurs. “I don’t know how much you can remember, but I’m the one that saved you from that Crolute on Jakku. The memory is imprinted in my mind, and you can access it, if you want to. When you’re ready.”
“How did you know? How did you know I was there?”
“You’ve always been in my dreams, since we were little. I felt you through the Force, and I came for you.”
*****
Rey passes what should be a joyous event–her first bath in a real bathtub, with clean water and soap–crying. Kylo Ren had somehow shown her images of herself on Jakku, as a prisoner in that building the elders called the dairy, tied to a chair and attached to a machine. She doesn’t know how much time she’s been in there, but the fact that she’s weak and underweight makes her suspect that he isn’t lying to her.
She can only remember taking the medicine provided by Plutt to produce the milk, the rest of her memories are hazy. She had accepted his proposal– the pay was steady–and he had explained to her that she only needed to use a pump every day and bring him the product the following morning. She remembered the first days pumping regularly until the milk came in, followed a vague memory of filling a small bottle, bringing it to him, and then–and then nothing more, only flashes of being cold and feeling like she was floating on a cloud. Now her breasts ache, heavy and unattended. With no pumps on board, she squeezed out what she could before finally being able to take a bath. Her head is pounding.
Kylo Ren let her look in his head and there were too many things there, all arranged into small drawers. She isn’t sure she can organize her thoughts like that; all her days overlap, each filled with the same combination of boredom and doom. She saw herself in his dreams, she saw her parents selling her to Plutt for drinking money, she saw the island in the ocean, she saw her loneliness and despair.
Kylo had explained that they have a connection in the Force–a Bond–and this should sound absurd–but it also makes sense because somehow she already knew his face like the backs of her hands. He’s been in her dreams multiple times, often as a child, other times as an adult, sometimes crying and sometimes brandishing a stunning sword of red light. She’d always wondered if it was herself from a past life before being born and abandoned on Jakku. She was scared by him at the beginning, but now she recognizes that he’s part of her, and she is part of him. They have many things in common: she recalls his memories of loneliness, of pain, and of an old, deformed man dressed in gold touching him against his will. She shudders in the warm water at the thought.
Ren killed Plutt to free her, freed all the other people kept there as well, and ended the Crolute’s yoke on Niima Outpost. He’s just asked her to remain with him on his ship, and to let him train her in the ways of the Force. Her parents aren’t coming back–they died after selling her to Plutt, and now they lie in a pauper’s grave in the sand–and she doesn’t have a place she can call home anymore. Not that Jakku had ever been anything like a real home, only a prison.
Kylo Ren’s proposal doesn’t seem to have downsides. Rey will have a home, medical care, education, physical training. She can even do research about who her parents were in the First Order’s archives.
She wipes her face, and can’t help but wonder what he stands to gain from that.
*****
When Rey emerges from the bathroom wearing the new clothes he’s given her–all-black–he’s waiting for her on the bed, wearing a soft tunic similar to hers. He pats the mattress–there are new sheets–and she sits down, her body still aching despite the hot bath.
“Are you hungry?” he asks her.
She shakes her head, knowing that a medical droid has already provided all the nutrients she needed for the evening. Learning how to eat again will be an ordeal, but she has all the time in the Galaxy now. She lies on the cushion–it’s soft–and he does the same, maintaining a bit of distance between them, keeping his eyes on the dark ceiling. Her tunic itches a bit against her sore nipples, but she doesn’t know if she can remove it, if there are rules on these ships, if it’s permitted. Kylo Ren falls asleep first, and she soon follows him, too tired to take care of herself again.
During the night, Rey wakes up in pain, her breasts hard and hot, nipples leaking. It’s not much yet, but the fabric of her tunic is now clinging to her skin, wet and uncomfortable, and her movements to remove it wake Kylo Ren as well.
“Are you feeling well?” He asks, voice still heavy with sleep.
“I need to–” She sighs. “I wish I had my pump with me. This isn’t easy.”
He switches the light on, lowest setting. She sits on her haunches, trying to absorb the quickly increasing streams of milk that flow from her sore nipples, drenching the black fabric.
“I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your tunic,” she murmurs, abashed. “I’ll wash it.”
He doesn't answer, looking at her in a way that should make her uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. After sleeping for a few hours, his features are not as harsh as earlier–his face is sweet, almost feminine now–despite the broken nose and jaw–his languid eyes fixed on her leaking mounds. After a moment, he raises them to meet her gaze; they’re hazel.
“Don’t worry,” he finally reassures her. “We have droids for that.”
Rey nods. She’s about to get up to express her milk in the bathroom as she did earlier, but then the impossible happens: a flash of him–of Kylo Ren–nursing from her breasts invades her mind, and she doesn’t know if it’s a product of her own imagination, or if it came from him. The only thing she knows is that both of their faces are red now, and neither of them is able to look away, their eyes fixed on each other.
He scoots in her direction, his hands trembling, and she doesn’t tell him to leave her alone–the image of his mouth on her is sending a jolt of arousal through her spine, a jolt that makes her thighs clench and her breasts tingle with anticipation as her heart starts to beat faster. His gaze falls to her chest as he lifts a hand, slowly approaching her left breast, giving her the time to refuse his attentions.
She doesn’t, and when his warm palm finally lands on her, so big that it dwarves her mound, he caresses her delicate skin, squeezing her breast lightly until small droplets of milk squirt from her nipple, landing on the pale skin of his hand. Looking at them in amazement, she watches as he brings his hand to his plush lips, finally tasting what they refer to on Jakku as white gold. His eyes close, and he lets out a deep sigh.
She knows what her milk tastes like–no need to ask him–it tastes sweet. There is nothing she can compare it to, but he looks at her like he has never tasted something so good, something so divine.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he suggests, his high cheekbones now the healthiest shade of pink, and she props a cushion behind her back.
He licks at first, his tongue rough against her nipples, collecting all the milk now steadily flowing from her. His head resting on her bicep, he starts sucking on the tip of her nipple, but it’s painful and she has to stop him. His eyes are so wide and sad when she pulls her breast away that her heart almost skips a beat, but she quickly shows him how to latch properly in order to not hurt her.
He follows her lead and opens his mouth wider, taking her entire nipple and areola into his mouth, being extra careful to protect her tender flesh from his teeth as he suckles with his lips and tongue. It takes him a few experimental sucks to achieve the right rhythm, but it’s not long until she feels his brief startle when the white gold starts flowing at full force into his eager mouth; she’s nearly overwhelmed with relief as she listens to the soft, satisfied sounds of him swallowing mouthfuls of her milk. Her body is finally sustaining someone she can
see
, someone she can
touch
. His black hair is so soft, his body so strong and warm, his hazel eyes now dark and so filled with awe that she thinks she could drown in them. Nursing him feels like flying on a cloud: her whole body relaxes, all her aches and pains disappear, forgotten in the silence of the night. He suckles for long minutes, draining her breast completely before gently unlatching; there is milk on his chin and in the corners of his mouth when he pulls away. He kisses her empty left breast before moving to the full right one, now completely engorged and dripping for him. He lets out a moan of satisfaction as soon as her milk hits his throat, and she pulls him closer, stroking her fingers through his hair as he suckles. Sleep eventually finds them entwined like this, and they stay that way for hours, slumbering peacefully for the first time in both of their lives.
*****
Kylo Ren’s mind is blown away. Having the privilege of drinking Rey’s milk is downright exhilarating –there is no other way to describe how he felt the first time it happened. He was scared at first, scared of how much her body needed him to take her pain away, but also scared of how much he needed to be warm for once, to feel a hand carding through his hair, to feel another person’s eyes look into his soul. But now, now it feels like the most primal and fundamental connection has bloomed between them, sprouted from a seed planted by the Force itself. They both need each other, in a never-ending cycle of giving and taking, like a snake trying to eat its own tail.
Compared to him, she’s tiny. He could take her whole breasts in his mouth, if he wanted to. Her mounds are small and firm, heavy with life; her purplish nipples have an almost hypnotizing effect, they call to him like a sacred idol calls to a worshipper.
The second time he nurses from her–the morning following her arrival–she is the one to initiate the session, opening her tunic right after their first lesson about the Force, and his brain almost short-circuits in anticipation. They’re sitting on the sofa, holobooks and synthetic kyber crystals spread in front of them, and he can’t help but move to kneel at her feet, his nose inhaling her intoxicating, sweet smell, and his thighs squeezed shut to not reveal to her the pit of depravity he’s fallen into. She is now his drug, and he is nothing more than an addict, groveling at her feet for the privilege of drinking her white gold.
*****
For a whole month after Rey’s arrival on board, Ren doesn’t leave her side, delegating all his previous commitments to his knights. The first days hadn’t been easy for Rey; she’d had to re-learn how to eat, how to walk, how to feel again after so many months of captivity. But she’s bright, so bright that he feels challenged by her mere presence, finally able to interact with, to relate to someone who is his equal in everything. He missed her even before meeting her, and now that she’s finally here with him, her nearness is a joy he can’t describe; it’s a joy that he fights to keep hidden from Supreme Leader Snoke, closed in that remote, tiny drawer in the back of his mind.
Both of them are unused to human company, but they soon develop a soothing routine. Rey is needy, her recovering body sincere in its longing for him, and Ren is more than happy to play his part, relieving her of her milk at least three times a day–four or five when he’s lucky–head bowed and cock hard as a rock. A part of him hopes she won’t read his mind as he suckles, but another part hopes she’ll notice as soon as possible, and he never erects mental walls between the two of them.
They do almost everything together–eating, studying, exercising–but when she lets him latch on to her nipples everything stops, like time is freezing around them. They simply bask in each other’s presence, drunk on their connection, intoxicated by the life flowing from Rey’s breasts.
When Hux calls a meeting between commanders and Ren has to leave Rey for an hour, his heart almost breaks. She tries to reassure him that she will be all right, that she won’t be bored, but he still leaves his quarters with a sombre face. Halfway through the meeting, he feels her presence in his mind, calling for him. He closes his eyes, concentrating, and she appears in front of him, her lithe form writhing on the long table, amidst the high-ranking officers. How did she do it? He never taught her anything similar–even he doesn’t even know how to project himself through the Force yet!
“Kylo…” she calls him. “Please, hurry! It hurts without you.”
He leaves the meeting, uncaring of Hux barking objections, and runs towards his quarters. She’s still there, in the middle of the bed, the most satisfied smirk etched on her features. Knowing that she needs him so much that she was able to push her Force abilities beyond anything he ever expected leaves Ren feeling unhinged, and he jumps on the bed, straddling her thighs, and tears her tunic in half, exposing her chest. She’s not even leaking– she lied, she lied because she missed him! –and he’s crazy with want.
He squeezes her left breast, his eager mouth already latching on the right one, his erection–impossible to hide–nestled against her thigh. He swallows around her nipple, suckling gently, the movement enough to trigger the first drops of milk against his tongue. He switches breasts, leaving a trail of pearly fluid on her sternum, her sweet nectar blessing his lips and his fingers. Her eyes are closed, oxytocin already kicking in, comforting her whole being–all pain forgotten, the past just a faint memory. He playfully bites one of her nipples, soothing it with his tongue before resuming his suckling.
She moans, and another forceful spray of milk hits the back of his throat. A few more seconds and he’s gone, coming silently against her thigh, gently rocking his cock until he’s spent, his mouth still stretched around her dripping mound as he gently squeezes her other breast with his hand. She gives a satisfied smirk then–there is no way she doesn’t know what just happened–and sneaks a hand between her legs, rocking against her fingers until she sighs beneath him. He drinks contentedly, greedy for every drop of her never-ending milk, and loses himself once more in the taste of her, the feel of her, as she relaxes underneath him.
*****
Rey, against all odds, finds herself craving Kylo Ren's attention to the point of almost not recognizing herself anymore. She would never have imagined herself depending so much on someone else– a man, even! –but he quickly managed to crawl under her skin. His presence is now a welcome constant in her life, whereas before the only constant in her life had been loneliness .
He’s always there for her, helping, guiding, nurturing–she laughs at that thought, since technically she’s the one nurturing him. The few times when he’s called away and she’s left all alone she just mopes on their bed, planning her next moves in such vivid details that she soon learns how to open their bond on her own volition, projecting herself wherever he is. Soon, she follows along unseen in every meeting he’s in, her hungry ears absorbing every detail, her quick mind learning how to navigate politics and wars; petty power plays between grown men.
That’s how she learns how to play with him, during those meetings, using the flow of her milk as bargaining credit chips, even though he’s not the only one winning there–they both benefit from the white gold at the same time, in a never-ending circle of demand, supply, and oxytocin highs. He leaves her, she calls him, and he always comes back straight away, ready to bow to her whims.
Today she decides that she’s going to be magnanimous, letting him actually finish his meeting for once–she has to complete her lightsaber in any case. They’re going to move to another ship in a few weeks, since Snoke had summoned Ren to join him. After seeing him in Ren’s memories, she already knew she didn’t like the Supreme Leader, but the thing that she hated the most is how Ren obeyed him straight away, without even asking her if she was comfortable with moving to a bigger ship. That day, her milk had gone down the drain, and Ren had learned where his true place was.
The weapon is soon finished. Rey is so engrossed in her work that she almost misses him announcing his return through their Bond. She can feel him, she can feel his hunger for her milk mounting. She can feel her blood traveling south, making her cunt throb with anticipation, though he hasn’t dared to lay a single finger on her that way yet. She removes her tunic and waits for him on the sofa, clad only in black armwraps and high-waisted leggings.
He freezes upon entering the living room, his helmet falling from his hands. It’s cute how something as normal as her tits can still incapacitate him on this scale–even after having touched and suckled and kissed her chest multiple times every day.
“The tunic was bothering me. It's warm enough in here, I think I can go without.”
His cheeks are already burning. “Does it hurt?” he asks, approaching her.
He’s hard. She shrugs, smiling and positioning a cushion behind her back.
He approaches her, never removing his eyes from her nipples, already pebbling quickly, and kneels between her spread legs. She will never get tired of seeing this mountain of a man on his knees in front of her, worshipping her body like she’s a goddess. There isn’t a minute during her day that she isn’t thinking about this, about the precise moment he flattens his tongue on his lower teeth and catches one of her peaks between his lips, sucking and pulling until her milk flows into his eager mouth.
He’s insatiable for her, and she’s intoxicated by it, by his fervor to drink from her, keeping the flow as steady and as constant as possible. Rey can’t imagine anything more intimate than his black mop of hair contrasting against her pale skin, his long nose tickling her breasts, his plush lips closing around her nipples in utter devotion as he drinks from her. He was born to consume her like a flame consumes a candle, every day, every time she needs him. Her past self would scoff at the notion.
“I don’t want to wear tunics anymore,” she says then, “I don't want to cover myself.”
He gulps, his mouth momentarily leaving her breast. “You can’t do that in public.”
“Can’t I?” she quips, spreading her legs further, letting herself slide forward on the sofa until her cunt touches Ren’s abdomen.
He stops suckling then. She grinds against him, legs spread open, and his cheeks colour again. His right hand, previously fondling the breast he wasn’t feeding on, now slides towards the apex of her thighs; she trembles as the gloved pad of his thumb grates on her clit, massaging it slowly, and he trembles as well, his eyes never abandoning hers.
She’s already soaked when he removes her leggings. The bare touch of his leather gloves against her folds is almost enough to make her come on the spot. She bucks under him, and one of her hands–almost on its own accord–closes slowly around one of her heavy breasts, massaging it, tugging on the nipple until it leaks, spreading her white gold all over her skin. Kylo Ren, never stopping the mind-melting circles around her clit, laves at her with his tongue, his soft lips finally closing around her breast again. She comes only when he gulps around her once, then twice, granting a steady flow of milk against his needy tongue, his gloved fingers now soaked with her juices. This is the first orgasm he gives her, the first of an infinite series.
You’re mine, he thinks, loud enough for her to catch amongst all the images and feelings of want and need that he inundates her mind with as he nurses from her.
“Am I?” she says aloud, smirking at his still kneeling form, her sweaty hand caressing his locks.
*****
They never speak about sex aloud, as they never use words to communicate their needs. Ren always knows what Rey wants, taking his sweet time to caress her drenched folds as he feeds from her; similarly, Rey knows what Ren needs, gifting him her white gold daily and permitting him to come against her thigh and her foot while he mouths at her breasts, desperate for friction. Sometimes, if she feels particularly generous, she’s the one touching him as he slouches beside her, his greedy mouth depleting her milk, his frothy spend spilling out all over her hand. She smiles at the thought of milking him in return.
Soon, almost every feeding ends with one–or both–of them coming, drunk on each other, basking in the basest pleasures, as free as animals. As their sweaty bodies entwine, intoxicated on oxytocin, their Bond gets stronger, in the vicious cycle of supply and demand, of giving and taking, of egoism and devotion. Knowing that things are bound to escalate soon, Rey ends up requesting a contraceptive from the medbay. As the droid injects her upper arm with the small implant, she opens the Bond, hurling the image of Ren finally penetrating her straight into his brain, making him almost crazy in his hunger for her. But when he tries to tell her that he’s coming to get her from the medbay, she stops him: bigger things await them; it’s not time yet for things to come full circle.
The snake they embody finally swallows its own tail on the Mega- class Star Dreadnought Supremacy, right after they kill the Supreme Leader and his élite guards. Amongst red and fire, in the mess they made of Snoke’s boudoir , Ren is again tearing Rey’s sopping tunic to shreds–she’d worn it again just to amuse him, and the heat of battle had soaked it in milk–as she sits on the throne.
The white gold flows freely, and Rey is soon drenched. Ren doesn’t latch straight away, instead taking his time to tear her leggings off as well, exposing her aching cunt to the singed air of the room. She teases him, squeezing her swollen breasts and tugging on her nipples until milk spurts, and he frees his erection, guiding it clumsily between her folds as he tries to catch all the spilled milk with his tongue. It’s the first time they’ve tried this, and it’s different from their usual slow, sleepy trysts in the dim light of his quarters; it’s different, new, almost violent.
The throne is hard, all lines and angles, and Rey lies there as he finally penetrates her, her inner walls clenching around the most welcome intrusion. She arches under him, head bumping into the backrest and legs spread–the tattered remains of her clothes still around her limbs–as Ren’s teeth bite at her pale mounds as he pumps his cock into her cunt. Her mind is already hazy from the battle, and she is growing frantic with need from his neverending suckling. Despite his ravenous hunger, her breasts are still heavy with milk, and she needs release–needs him –more than ever. His mouth never leaving her chest, she comes only after his hand slips between her legs, tickling at her clit with his gloved fingertips. He empties himself inside of her as she clenches around him, his spend coating her walls–marking her insides as her milk flows down his throat. He's hers now, there is no going back.
*****
35 ABY, Mega-class Star Dreadnought Supremacy
Rey never left that throne. After Snoke’s death, she proclaimed herself Empress, guiding the First Order with the strength and resolve that only someone who had experienced slavery could muster. A new team of Red Guards stands alongside the Knights of Ren, waiting to do her bidding. Her bare chest is on full display for everyone to gawk at as she administers her justice, her First Knight–like a shadow–never leaving her side.
She’s equally loved and feared, and people of all races, genders, and beliefs grovel at her feet, prostrating themselves to receive her mercy. Today, a man from Hays Minor is kneeling in front of her: he’s the owner of several mining caves on the planet, and he’s here to protest the crippling fine Rey had imposed on him after he refused to switch to a droid workforce and free his slaves. Knowing her reputation, any intelligent person would have paid the fine and modified their workforce as soon as possible.
“I can’t free my slaves, Empress,” he whines, his knees creaking on the hard floor. “Where would they go without me to support them? They don’t have any means to eat a proper meal without me, and I feed them twice per day!”
“They would finally be free on their own home planet,” Rey seethes. “They would return home, they would take care of the planet. Your mining facility has depleted its ecosystem, and the people able to restore that are currently dying under your yoke. As slaves.”
“I can’t do that, Empress. It would take years, and–”
Rey snaps her fingers, and Ren leaps into action, his red saber as quick as lightning. The man’s head flies against the opposite wall in a flash of red sparks and dark leather.
“Hux,” she calls, the General quickly emerging from the shadows and bowing in front of her. “We’re taking full control of the mining facilities on Hays Minor. Send a Resurgent -class Star Destroyer there, equipped with medical staff, mining droids, and a team of terraforming experts. You have two years to make that hell livable again.”
“Yes, your Highness,” Hux mewls, abandoning the hall.
Rey slumps on the throne. One of her nipples is already leaking, unattended, and Ren quickly removes his helmet, joining her on trembling knees, just like the first time he nursed from her, almost a year ago; drunk on the privilege of living by her side, serving her, following her like a shadow.
The hall is so silent that Ren’s first gulp echoes through the large room, the wet smack of his lips against her skin making Rey moan in tired relief. No one dares to say anything when this happens, as both Knights and Red Guards are used to seeing the Empress breastfeeding their First Knight in front of them, several times a day.
Today her milk is particularly abundant, and Ren has to suckle for several minutes on each hard, heavy breast to relieve Rey of her apparent discomfort. She moans again, and if someone notices Ren’s hand sneak between her legs, no one dares to tell anything. She’s already wet, so wet, her leggings are damp with her juices, and he teases her over the dark fabric, meeting her swollen clit, pinching it lightly.
Her eyes open, meeting his hooded ones. She caresses his hair, smiling, and one of her feet slides between his legs, brushing against his hardness. He smiles back, increasing the pressure of his fingers against her clit, his mouth never leaving her nipple, his needy cock seeking solace against the rounded tip of her shoe and the top of her foot. If someone notices how both of them start to tremble at the same time, no one dares to tell anything.