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Nights on Ahch-to are colder than anything Rey has ever experienced. The Lanai caretakers have provided her with blankets made from a thick, unfamiliar hide and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap herself in them. It’s the only insulation she has against the wind howling at her through holes in the old stone walls.
She isn’t sure what’s colder — the weather or Luke himself. He’s steadily ignored her since she first landed on Ahch-To and hasn’t even acknowledged his old friend Chewie. Outside, a pounding rain joins the wind, and Rey curls deeper into her blankets. Her last thought before sleep takes her is of Kylo Ren. Is this the Luke Skywalker he grew up with? Is this the man he spent his childhood training under, alone at some desolate temple? Cold, sarcastic, impenetrable…
You are young, yes, but you are strong, and taller than him. When Luke corrects your form with the lightsaber, you tower over him, and your arms are thick and muscled, and—
These are not your arms.
You can see it in his eyes, how he mistrusts you. Fears you, even. He is cautious around you like he never was when you were a child, before puberty changed you, made your voice deep, made you larger than Luke in every way. He senses the difference in you, the hiss like a snake in your head that rears up every time you see Luke meditating, his eyes closed, unaware that you stand so close by.
The hiss like a snake when you sneak into his room at night and see him sleeping. When he awakens and lifts his head, groggily, says, “Ben…?” And you search for an excuse but have none, so you walk away without a word.
The hiss like a snake when you know Luke is bathing so you walk down to the stream, your feet moving soundlessly over the rocks and sand. You watch him and he can’t even sense your presence. You watch him and catalogue every part of his body, comparing it to yours.
And in every instance, you come out the victor. You are bigger than him. You are younger. You are stronger. You could overpower him. You could hold him down. And what would he do? In your sparring exercises, you’re almost equal. You beat him half the time, and you know from the look in his eyes — that hint of pride, hint of fear — that he isn’t throwing the match.
Luke loves his nephew. He loves Ben.
But that hissing in your head whispers, //We can make him stop.//
//Wouldn’t you like to make him stop?//
Rey wakes from the dream in a sweat, smothered by the thick hides. She fights her way out of them and is hit instantly by cold air and a watery mist spraying through the window. Outside, it’s dark. She can hear the ocean crashing up against the cliff and she strains her ears, listening for something else.
It takes her a minute to realize she’s listening for Luke. Rey turns away from the window, biting her lip. The breeze has dried the sweat on her skin and left her with goosebumps; hesitantly, she pulls the hide blankets over her lap. They still retain her body heat, and after a moment she pushes them away again, irritated.
She stands and leaves the stone hut. Just on the other side of the entrance, she pauses and closes her eyes. With a deep breath, she opens herself up to the Force, searches for any signal that Luke is nearby. She picks up the Lanai caretakers in a village of slightly more modern huts to her left, and a life signal that must be Luke deep within the Jedi ruins.
She should leave him alone. She should go back to bed.
But the dream weighs heavily on her mind. It felt so tangible — not like a memory but like a real experience, like she had somehow connected directly to Kylo Ren’s brain and, for just a moment, seen life as it was for him when he was just Ben.
//We can make him stop.//
With a shiver, Rey turns away from the ruins and marches through the rain to the meditation spot on the cliff. It’s a struggle to walk upright through the wind, especially once she leaves the relative cover of the old stone huts, but she makes it without incident. Rey clambers onto the flat rock and sits, cross-legged, with her eyes closed.
Unbidden, an image rises in her mind of Luke meditating just like this, younger and less cold but still so distant, unaware of his nephew watching him. Rey forces the memory away and focuses instead on her breathing.
She can’t be bogged down by someone else’s memories, someone else’s desire.
Still, there’s a hiss like a snake in her head.
When Luke sees her meditating on the stone, he turns away silently, without saying a word. Still, his mere presence disturbs Rey; ripples burst through her consciousness unheeded, carrying sense-memories of Luke bathing, Luke sleeping, Luke unguarded, Luke open to attack.
And then, like a plasma ray to the brain, Rey experiences something new, a memory that can’t be real. Her left hand on Luke’s neck, her right tearing at his robes, the Force rushing to aid her, holding him down, facilitating Rey’s every move, like it longs for this, like the Force itself wants to see Luke on his knees.
For the first time in hours, Rey opens her eyes, shoving this — this vision out of her head. Her chest is heaving and it takes her a minute or two to steady her breathing again.
She’s heard of Force visions before — glimpses of the future, of what’s destined to be. Things the Force deems to be right. As awful as it is, instinct tells her that’s what she’s just experienced. But how can that be what the Force expects of her? If her dreams from the night before are real, does that mean the Force expected this of Kylo, too?
She closes her eyes, and immediately the Force drags her consciousness down to that dark pit below ground. Rey snaps her eyes open again and stands in one motion, shaking her head.
She doesn’t understand why the Force shows her these things — why it seems to want her to do bad things — but she knows she’s not a tool to be used by the Force, and neither is Kylo Ren. If he could withstand these strange desires, so can she.
She will not be used.
You’re fifteen years old that night, existing on the tail end of a growth spurt that leaves you taller than Luke, taller even than your father. A combination of hormones and hard training has filled out your chest and arms with muscle you never had before. Luke’s old training exercises, the ones designed to exhaust you physically and mentally, no longer do the trick. He’s constantly revising, searching for harder, more pointless tasks for you to complete. All in the name of the Force.
You spend more and more of your time watching Luke. He seems so much smaller than he was when you were a child. He’s hyper-aware of the new imbalance between you, and you can tell. He watches you with suspicion, wariness. You overhear his thoughts from time to time, without meaning to, and you know he worries that there’s too much of the Dark in you.
But the Dark Side doesn’t work that way. It isn’t inside anyone anymore than the Light is. The Force is just the Force, and it uses people however it wants to.
For good.
For bad.
Maybe there’s no such thing as choice — or morality — so maybe when you retreat to your cot at night and slip your hands into your trousers, cupping yourself, thinking of your uncle — maybe that’s not so bad as it seems. You picture Luke with his robes torn — Luke glaring at you with that hard, unimpressed glance he affects, but his limbs shaking ever-so-slightly from fear.
Because he knows the Force is with you, he knows it guides your actions.
He knows you are its new favorite tool. Not him.
Yes, you think of Luke.
“Luke!”
Her own shout, his name in her voice, sounds unfamiliar and strange to her. Luke hesitates when he hears it, his back to her. For a long time, he doesn’t turn around, and that gives Rey the determination she needs to approach him. He finally looks at her when she’s so close he can’t possibly ignore it, their chests almost touching.
And his eyes are just like she dreamed they’d be. Defiant, cold, cautious.
“Stop ignoring me,” says Rey, her voice firm. She steps forward again, driving Luke back against the wall of the ruins. She can see Luke resisting the temptation to roll his eyes.
He tries to push past her and fails. His limbs don’t move.
His expression changes, then.
“What—” he growls, and then Rey is moving on him. Her hand finds his throat and his voice dwindles away before he can even finish his sentence.
Luke has cut himself off from the Force.
Rey knows she shouldn’t do this. There’s a part of her that screams in protest, but that part is so small she can hardly hear it. It’s drowned out by the hissing in her mind that tells her what to do.
//Won’t it be nice to see him trembling?//
She pushes down on Luke’s shoulders and his knees hit the stone bottom of the cave. He groans, and she tightens her grip on his throat to stop him. One hand rips through his robes until his torso is bare, and that’s when Rey stops to take him in.
He’s just like she dreamed he would be.
Old. Weak.
No match for her at all.
“Rey—” Luke says, but Rey plants her foot in the middle of his chest and kicks him to the ground. She reaches for the ties on his trousers and they fly apart at her touch, aided by the Force. When she gets his trousers off, Luke’s penis is small and shriveled.
Rey can fix that. She closes her eyes and concentrates, and Luke’s blood vessels respond to the gentle brushing of her mind against them. In less than a minute, Luke’s cock is erect, flush against his stomach. She glances up at him and sees his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in pain.
//You can make him fear you.//
Rey moves off Luke, using the Force to keep him pinned to the ground. She wiggles out of her own trousers and then she’s back on him, her skin hot against his.
“Rey,” Luke says again, eyes still closed. “Why—”
Why is she doing this?
Well, why isn’t he stopping her? He could, if he really wanted to. He could raise the mental block that’s keeping the Force shut off from him. He could be a tool of the Force again, just like she is. But he doesn’t do this.
Why?
//Because he wants it.//
Rey lowers herself down on top of Luke. His lips curl back in a grimace, baring his teeth, but he holds still. He has no choice but to hold still. And Rey — this is a new experience for her, and at first it’s tight and painful and she has to hold still, too, letting her body adjust. She grabs Luke’s hands, limp and trembling, and holds them against her breasts, brushing his fingertips against her nipples.
And eventually, it isn’t so uncomfortable, and Rey begins to move. Her hips rock against Luke’s and he groans again. How long has it been since he had this? she wonders. She can see him biting his lip just like she’s biting hers, agony and arousal overwhelming her.
And then, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, Luke thrusts into her, and Rey pushes back.
“Stop,” Luke whispers. But he’s moving under her just as she’s moving on top of him, and his hands move down from her breasts of their own accord, settling on her waist. Not pushing, just resting there, his thumbs rubbing circles over her skin. Rey gasps, feels something rising inside her, a delicious tension she’s never felt before. Luke gasps, too, and it sounds almost like a sob.
Agony and arousal. Dark and Light.
And when Rey comes, Luke comes. And there’s a hissing like a snake in their heads.