Mask of Insanity

by DarkHEAIssues

Summary:

Rey is the newest nurse at Chandrilla Asylum.

Her first patient is Kylo Ren.

Notes:

Please be sure to check the tags. Don't like it, don't read it.

Chapter 1

Rey parks her old car at the back of the Chandrilla Asylum parking lot. The engine wheezes before cutting off with a cough, leaving behind an uneasy silence. She grips the steering wheel, knuckles pale, and exhales slowly.

Today is her first real day.

She graduated from nursing school just a few weeks ago. Last week was all orientation—tours, protocols, shadowing—but today, she starts for real. With real patients.

Her eyes drop to the file resting open on her lap.

Kylo Ren.

Her first patient.

Her supervisor told her he’s the best they’ve got. Calm. Polite. Predictable.

“A good place to start,” he said, smiling. “If all our patients were like him, I’d be out of a job.”

Still, Rey’s hands are cold.

She shuts the file, swallows the tight knot in her throat, and opens the door. The morning air is crisp, and it clears her head a little as she walks toward the side entrance reserved for staff. The Chandrilla Asylum stands quiet and pristine under a pale sky, its white walls trimmed with ivy, its windows tall and expressionless. From the outside, it looks more like a country estate than a psychiatric facility. But everyone knows—only the very wealthy can afford a place like this. It’s where people send their broken, embarrassing secrets to disappear behind security and polished stone.

Inside, Rey moves through the routine. She changes in the locker room. Pulls her hair back. Pins her badge. At the checkpoint, the guards nod and buzz her through, and she greets a few familiar faces on her way to the medical wing. A nod from Jan in records. A tired smile from Nurse Tallie. The building already feels like a maze she half-remembers from a dream.

When she reaches her station, she breathes out again. Here, she knows what to do. She checks the chart, preps the tray, runs over her notes for the third time. Everything neat, sterile, familiar.

Then she hears footsteps approaching from the hallway. Slow, deliberate.

She looks up.

Poe Dameron rounds the corner with a bright smile on his face. “Morning, rookie,” he says cheerfully.

He’s not alone.

The man beside him is tall. Towering, really. Broad-shouldered and long-limbed, with dark, messy hair that hangs near his eyes. He wears the standard patient clothes, but nothing about him feels small or fragile. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he walks.

Poe gestures toward him. “This is Kylo Ren. Your first assignment.”

Rey’s throat goes dry. She nods, slowly.

Kylo Ren looks at her, his gaze steady, unreadable. There’s no twitch of a smile. No flicker of curiosity. Just a calm, quiet stare that seems to weigh her down without saying a word.

“Good morning, Mr. Ren,” she says, forcing her voice to stay even.

He holds her gaze. His voice is low, almost too quiet to catch.

“Morning.”

And in that one word, there’s something she can’t quite place—something too still, too calm.

She clears her throat, glancing at the clipboard again even though she’s already memorized every line.

“You’re scheduled for vitals and a short interview this morning,” she says, stepping to the side to gesture toward the examination room. “Should only take a few minutes.”

Kylo doesn’t move at first. Then, with a short glance at Poe, he walks past her without a word, the soft thud of his footsteps louder than it should be on the tile floor. Poe gives her an encouraging nod before heading off in the opposite direction, whistling as he goes.

The door closes behind them with a gentle click.

Rey walks to the counter to grab her gloves, aware of how large he seems in the small room. He doesn’t sit down. He just stands there, hands folded loosely in front of him, watching her with that same unreadable calm.

“You can sit, if you’d like,” she offers, trying to keep her tone light.

After a beat, he does. The chair creaks under his weight, but he doesn’t fidget or slouch. He sits with his back straight, his eyes tracking her every movement.

She forces herself to focus. Blood pressure. Pulse. Temperature.

Clinical.

Ordinary.

“Have you had any headaches recently?” she asks, attaching the blood pressure cuff to his arm.

He shakes his head once. “No.”

“Any dizziness? Nausea?”

“No.”

Rey clears her throat, trying to keep her voice level as she flips to the next page on the clipboard.

“I need to check your heart rate directly,” she says, reaching for her stethoscope. “Would you mind… lifting your shirt?”

There’s a pause.

Kylo doesn’t move right away. Just looks at her, eyes steady, unreadable. She doesn’t know what she expects—resistance, maybe—but instead, he simply nods once and takes the hem of his plain white shirt in both hands.

He pulls it up slowly.

Rey tries not to stare. She really tries. But it’s hard not to notice the sculpted lines of muscle, the scattering of scars across his ribs, the slow rise and fall of his chest. He’s built like someone who could break walls if he wanted to—but sits like he doesn’t care to.

She steps closer, her hands shaking slightly as she puts on the stethoscope. The cold metal trembles against her palm. She tries to remember her training. Position the bell. Count the rhythm. Don’t drop it. Breathe.

She touches the stethoscope to his chest.

His skin is warm. The beat beneath it strong, steady, patient.

Not like hers.

Her cheeks flush almost instantly.

Focus, she tells herself.

But her fingers brush his skin as she adjusts the placement—just a little—and suddenly it feels much too quiet in the room. Her heart pounds like it wants to escape.

She clears her throat again. “Breathe in, please.”

He does.

Deep and slow.

She counts, grateful for something to do.

And then—

“You look pretty when you blush.”

Her hand freezes.

She looks up sharply, startled, meeting his eyes for the first time since she started the exam.

His gaze is direct. Calm.

Rey stares at him, lips parting slightly. For a moment, she can’t find any words at all.

Then she draws back, lowering the stethoscope, trying very hard not to drop it.

“I think your heart sounds just fine,” she says, voice slightly higher than usual.

Kylo lowers his shirt slowly, still watching her.

There’s no smirk. No grin. Just that quiet intensity, like he’s cataloguing her reaction and filing it away.

Rey writes something down on the chart just to give her hands something to do. Anything.

“You’re free to go,” she says quickly.

He stands without another word. But as he reaches the door, he pauses.

“See you tomorrow, Rey.”

Her head snaps up.

He doesn't turn around. The door opens. Closes.

The room falls quiet.

Rey stares at the closed door, her heart thudding in her chest.

Because… she never told him her name.

 

__________

 

The door creaks as Rey pushes it open and steps inside her small apartment. The light from the hallway spills in for a moment before the door swings shut behind her with a quiet thud.

She exhales. Her shoulders sag.

The place is dim, quiet. A studio, barely big enough for her books, her bed, and a secondhand sofa pressed against the wall. The walls are off-white and bare, except for a single shelf of nursing textbooks and a framed print of a wildflower field her aunt once gave her.

She kicks off her shoes, leaving them just inside the door, and walks across the worn wooden floor in her socks. Her scrubs rustle as she moves. Every sound seems louder in the stillness of the apartment.

In the kitchen nook, she fills the kettle and sets it on the stove. She leans against the counter while she waits, arms folded, staring at the chipped edge of a tile on the backsplash.

Her mind drifts.

You blush easily.

She blinks and frowns at herself, as if annoyed by the way the words echo. Shakes her head.

The kettle whistles softly.

She pours the water into a mug, letting the tea bag steep, and walks it carefully over to the couch. She settles into the cushions, pulling her knees up, mug cradled in her hands.

The television glows faintly across the room. She turns it on, flipping aimlessly through the channels, stopping on something forgettable—a nature documentary, or maybe a rerun of something she doesn’t really care about.

The steam curls from the mug into her face, warm and fragrant. It should be comforting. But it isn’t.

Everything feels… quiet. Too quiet.

She hadn’t expected him to get to her. Not on the first day. Not like that.

There had been something strange in the way he looked at her. Not creepy. Not inappropriate. Just—aware. Like he could see through her nervousness, straight through the performance she put on as the calm, capable nurse.

See you tomorrow, Rey.

Her fingers tighten slightly on the mug.

 

__________

 

The next morning, Rey walks through the front gates of Chandrilla Asylum with her badge clipped to her chest and her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her coat.

Inside, the day begins like the last: uniform, security, polite greetings.

She finds Poe in the records room, sleeves rolled up and half-buried in a tall stack of patient files. He looks up and grins when she enters.

“There’s my helper,” he says. “Come catalog some madness with me.”

She smiles faintly and steps in, taking a folder off the top of the stack.

For a while, they work in silence, sorting files by date, labeling charts, logging updates. The fluorescent light hums overhead, and Rey tries not to glance at the time too often.

But eventually, she does.

Her eyes flick to the small clock on the wall.

Ten minutes until her scheduled check-in with Kylo Ren.

She swallows.

Poe catches the direction of her gaze and smirks. “Nervous?”

Rey looks back down at the chart in her hand. “No.”

“Liar,” he teases.

She exhales through her nose, not denying it.

Poe leans casually against the shelf. “He’s all right, you know. Quiet, yeah, but... weirdly polite. Keeps to himself. Most new staff ask to be assigned to him.”

She doesn’t answer.

“You’ll miss him when they put you on rotation with the screamers,” he adds, half-joking. “Trust me.”

Rey nods, distracted. Her fingers are trembling slightly as she closes the file.

She makes her way across the long, echoing hall toward the patient quarters. Each step clicks quietly on the tile. She passes a nurse, a janitor, a locked door. The hallway bends.

Then she’s there—outside his room.

The door is closed.

But not locked.

No guard in sight.

She hesitates, just for a second. Then lifts her hand and gently pushes the door open.

It creaks softly on its hinges.

Kylo Ren is seated near the window, long legs stretched out, hands resting loosely on his knees. The light cuts across the room in stripes through the blinds, falling across his dark clothes, his broad shoulders, his stillness.

His head turns toward her the moment she steps in.

“Rey,” he says.

She stops cold.

Her heart skips.

He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She closes the door behind her, slowly. “How do you know my name?”

There’s a pause.

But he doesn’t answer.

He watches her with unnerving stillness.

Rey shifts her weight and clears her throat. “Look… I don’t know how you know my name. But it’s not appropriate for you to use it.”

His expression doesn’t change.

Then, with complete calm, he says, “What should I call you instead?”

“Miss Niima. Nurse. Or—”

“Hmm.” He leans back slightly in the chair. “What about… baby girl?”

The words land like a slap made of silk.

She freezes.

“What?” she says, half a breath.

He smiles—just barely. But it’s there. The ghost of something too close to amusement.

“Admit it,” he murmurs, “you like how it sounds.”

She stares at him, stunned, color rising instantly to her cheeks.

He tilts his head, eyes never leaving hers.

“I think,” she says, voice low and sharp, “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, his voice drops even lower.

“Maybe I just like seeing you flustered.”

Rey’s hand tightens on the clipboard.

“I’m here to take your vitals,” she says curtly. “That’s all.”

She hates how aware she is of his presence. Of how quiet the room is. Of how the sound of her breath feels suddenly too loud.

She busies herself pulling out the blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, thermometer—anything to give her hands a task. Her heart’s still hammering, and she curses herself for letting it show.

She sets the clipboard aside and walks over with the cuff. “Arm, please,” she says flatly.

He offers it with surprising obedience, but his eyes never leave her face.

She wraps the cuff around his bicep, trying to ignore how solid his arm is under her hands. As the Velcro tightens, he speaks again, voice low:

“You’ve been thinking about me.”

She doesn’t answer.

“I can tell.”

She presses the stethoscope to his skin, refusing to look up. “This is a clinical visit, Mr. Ren. Please don’t speak unless it’s in response to a question.”

Rey swallows, forcing herself to focus on the steady beat beneath the stethoscope. Her fingers tremble slightly as she counts.

“Your pulse is steady,” she says finally, “and your blood pressure is normal.”

 “Good. I’d hate to disappoint.”

She straightens, gathering her things. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

 

__________

 

Baby girl.

The words echo in her mind, unbidden and persistent. How he said it—soft, teasing, like it was some secret meant only for her.

She tries to shove the thought away, to focus on the endless tasks waiting for her at the asylum. It’s foolish, really. She has more important things to worry about—patient charts, schedules, protocols.

But no matter how hard she tries, her mind circles back to that moment.

She bites her lip, shaking her head slightly. Get a grip, Rey.

Still, every time she closes her eyes, she hears his voice again: Baby girl.

And for all her resolve, a small, reluctant part of her wonders if she liked how it sounded after all.

When she finally arrives home, the quiet of her small apartment feels heavier than usual.

She pulls out her phone and orders delivery—something simple, easy. She doesn't have the energy to cook, not tonight.

After eating half-heartedly on the couch while half-watching a dull TV show, her hand drifts down, sliding beneath the loose waistband of her pajama pants without thinking. The touch is tentative at first, almost accidental.

She doesn't let herself acknowledge what she's doing.

Not until the soft strokes become more deliberate.

She swallows, leaning her head back. The TV buzzes faintly, casting shadows across the dark room. She closes her eyes, and suddenly his face is there—that smirk, the intensity of his eyes, the way his voice curled around her name.

Rey.

She bites her lip, breathing out a faint, unsteady sigh.

A part of her hates that her body wants this, even now, as her fingers curl down into slick warmth.

She imagines him touching her—sliding his hand between her thighs and feeling just how much she needs it. He would tease her, of course. Part her open with his fingers, stroke her until she was panting and desperate.

And he would say her name. Over and over. Rey. Rey.

Her breath comes faster, her hips arching up.

But it's the way he'd look at her, in those moments before she falls apart—eyes dark and heated and locked on hers, that makes her gasp and shudder and lose her grip on everything but the sound of his voice in her ear.

Come for me, baby girl.

Rey does.

Her whole body shakes. She bites her lip, trying desperately not to cry out.

When the moment subsides, the air rushes from her lungs. She sinks back, trembling, her eyes still closed.

But then she suddenly remembers that she is not fantasizing about a famous actor or an unknown man, but about her very real patient.

Shame burns through her.

She drags her fingers away, her stomach tightening.

She shouldn't have done that.

Shouldn't have liked it so much.

 

__________

 

The next day, Rey walks down the familiar corridor with a small clipboard in one hand and a white paper bag in the other. Inside are Kylo Ren’s new prescriptions—adjusted dosages, approved by the attending physician that morning.

She hesitates outside his door for the briefest second, then pushes it open.

The scent hits her first—smoke.

He’s at the window again, tall frame silhouetted by the morning light. One hand rests on the windowsill, the other holds a cigarette between two fingers. He takes a slow drag, exhaling toward the sky as if the world outside could possibly matter more than the one inside.

Rey blinks. “That doesn’t look right.”

He turns his head lazily, eyes meeting hers without any rush. “Morning to you too.”

She steps inside, the door clicking shut behind her. “Is that even allowed in here?”

Kylo shrugs, flicking a bit of ash into a small dish on the windowsill. “Didn’t ask.”

She frowns, glancing toward the ceiling like she expects a camera or a smoke detector to start blaring. “There are rules.”

His mouth curves into something between a smirk and a challenge. “Of course there are. And you love them, don’t you?”

She narrows her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turns to face her fully now, leaning a hip against the sill, cigarette still burning between his fingers. “You’re always quoting protocol. Procedures. What’s permitted, what isn’t. I bet you even dream in regulations.”

She crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot. “I’m here to give you your medication, not argue about policy.”

Kylo watches her for a long beat, then lifts the cigarette slowly to his lips, inhales, and exhales a thin stream of smoke toward the ceiling.

Then—without breaking eye contact—he offers it to her.

“Want a drag?” he asks, voice low, a little amused.

Rey stares at the cigarette. Then at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

He shrugs one shoulder, holding it out lazily between two fingers. “Just one. Won’t kill you.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Of course not,” he says, laughing softly. “You’re too good for that, aren’t you?”

She narrows her eyes, already annoyed by the condescension in his tone.

“Probably never even tried weed in college, did you?”

Rey’s jaw tightens. “My personal life isn’t your concern.”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Tell me, baby girl… I'm curious. You've at least been to a frat party, haven't you? You must have, once or twice.”

Rey’s spine straightens at the sound of the nickname—again. Heat prickles under her collar, but she forces her voice to stay level.

“It’s Miss Niima,” she says sharply. “We’ve already had this conversation.”

"All right, Miss Niima...", he draws out her name slowly, "Tell me this then—have you ever let one of those college fuckers fuck you from behind?"

Rey blinks. “Excuse me?”

His smile deepens—slow, crooked, entirely self-satisfied.

“You didn’t,” he says, voice low, amused. “Of course you didn’t.”

He leans in slightly—just enough to make her heart thud—but doesn’t move from the window.

“That’s good,” he says, “They wouldn’t have known what to do with you anyway.”

Kylo’s lips curve into a slow, certain smile.

“But I would.”

Her breath catches, and she hates that he can hear it.

She snatches the paper bag off the table and places it pointedly on the ledge beside him. “Your new prescription. Adjusted dosages. Twice a day, with food.”

He doesn’t even glance at it.

Instead, he lifts the cigarette again, takes another drag, and exhales slowly.

“You’re fun when you’re mad,” he says.

She spins toward the door. “And you’re impossible.”

He calls after her, tone casual but unmistakably warm, “Still not a no.”

She doesn’t answer—but her cheeks are flushed all the way down to her collar.

 

__________

 

The records room was quiet except for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional scratch of a pen. Rey sat at the long table, sorting through a stack of patient files, while Poe leaned over a filing cabinet, organizing folders by date.

She glanced up, catching his eye. “Hey, Poe... can I ask you something?”

He looked up with a grin. “Sure, what’s up?”

She hesitated, then tried to sound casual. “Do you know what exactly Kylo’s diagnosis is?”

Poe nodded, his expression turning a bit more serious. “Yeah. He’s got Intermittent Explosive Disorder.”

Rey frowned slightly. “Has he had any episodes since he got here?”

Poe shook his head. “No. Not a single one. He’s been... surprisingly stable.”

She blinked, relief washing over her. “That’s good to hear.”

Poe smiled. “If you want, I can keep you updated. It’s important to know what you’re dealing with.”

She smiled back, grateful. “Thanks, Poe. I appreciate that.”

 

__________

 

Visitation Day arrived at Chandrilla Asylum. The front lounge had been scrubbed down for the occasion—metal chairs arranged in neat rows, tables wiped clean, everything under the watchful eyes of orderlies posted at every exit.

Rey stood near the wall with a clipboard in hand, her badge clipped neatly to her chest, observing quietly. Patients wandered the room under supervision, engaging in cautious, sometimes emotional conversations with relatives—parents, spouses, children clinging to the sides of chairs. The buzz of low voices, shuffling feet, and the occasional outburst filled the air.

She kept scanning the room, half-focused on her task—documenting the visitors, checking off names—but her attention kept drifting to the far corner.

Kylo Ren sat alone.

He wasn’t watching the door like the others. Wasn’t fidgeting or waiting or pretending not to care. He looked completely at ease, reclined in his chair with a book open in his lap, one ankle resting casually on the opposite knee, as though the entire world could pass him by and he wouldn’t blink.

Hours passed.

People came and went. Some patients cried. Some had to be escorted out early. But no one came for him.

Rey found herself glancing toward the front more than once, expecting—what? Someone tall and dark-eyed like him? A father, maybe. A mother. A brother. A wife.

The thought made her throat tighten unexpectedly.

When she looked back, he was still there. Still reading. Still alone.

Finally, Rey stepped away from the wall and crossed the room, weaving carefully through chairs and patients. She stopped a few feet from him.

He didn’t look up right away.

She cleared her throat gently. “What are you reading?”

He lifted his eyes, slow and unreadable, then closed the book with one hand. The cover read Crime and Punishment.

He raised a brow. “Light reading.”

Rey blinked, then huffed a quiet, amused breath. “Fitting.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Do you want to go back to your room?” she asked.

“No.” He shifted, placing the book on the table beside him, and then turned his full attention to her. “I like the show.”

Her brow furrowed.

He gestured lazily to the room. “Happy reunions. Awkward apologies. A few well-rehearsed tears.”

But not for you, she thinks.

As if reading her thoughts, Kylo looked back toward the window. Sunlight angled in and caught on the curve of his jaw, the mess of hair falling around his face. “Don’t worry. I’m not disappointed.”

Rey hesitated. “Don’t you have anyone?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, it was soft—too soft for the usual bite in his voice.

“No one worth missing.”

Her chest tightened.

A long silence passed between them, heavy and still.

Then, with quiet care, Rey pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.

She placed her clipboard on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “Well,” she said, “you’ve got me for ten more minutes.”

He blinked, surprised—but only for a moment. Then he smiled, small and genuine, and leaned forward.

“Lucky me.”

He studied her for a moment, eyes sharper now, the mocking edge gone. His voice, when it came, was quieter than usual.

“What about you?” he asked. “Anyone waiting for you at home?”

The question caught her off guard. Rey shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of the way the room buzzed around them.

“No,” she said simply.

He watched her for a beat, then tilted his head. “Family doesn’t visit?”

Rey let out a dry breath, not quite a laugh. “I don’t have any.”

That made him pause. His eyes sharpened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. She glanced down at her hands, then back up.

“I grew up in the system. Foster homes. Temporary placements. A couple of group homes too.” She shrugged, but the movement was tight. “It wasn’t great, but I made it out. Put myself through school. Worked all kinds of jobs. Took the night shifts no one else wanted.”

He studied her, something unreadable in his gaze. “You’re tougher than you look.”

A silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She looked around the room again—at the thinning crowd of visitors, the way the light outside had shifted, softening toward late afternoon.

“I used to hate days like this,” she said after a while, eyes still scanning the room. “When I was a kid. Watching other kids get picked up by families. Even the ones who didn’t want to go, who complained about their moms or their dads—I still envied them.”

Kylo was quiet. Still.

“But eventually, I stopped hoping,” she said softly. “And then... I stopped needing it.”

Kylo tilted his head, watching her with a kind of stillness that made her skin prickle. He didn’t speak for several seconds.

Then, softly—too softly—he said, “That’s not true.”

Rey blinked, her brows drawing together. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t stopped needing it,” he said. “You’ve just gotten good at pretending you don’t.”

She stiffened in her seat.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she replied, sharper than intended.

But he didn’t flinch. He leaned back slowly, gaze fixed on hers like he could see straight through her.

“You still want it,” he said, voice calm, almost too calm. “A family. A home. A husband. Kids. The fucking house with the white picket fence. You want the whole damn cliché.”

Rey swallowed hard. She looked away—but not fast enough. He saw it.

“You don’t get to talk like you know me,” she said.

“I already do,” he replied, without hesitation.

Silence fell again, heavier than before.

Rey stared at the table for a long moment. The din of the room had quieted. Most of the visitors were gone now. A few orderlies started guiding patients back to their rooms.

She stood slowly, gripping her clipboard.

“Your ten minutes are up.”

 

__________

 

The grocery store was quiet in the late evening—fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, a soft hum of wheels turning down polished linoleum aisles. Rey stood by the canned goods, one hand resting on the handle of her basket, the other absently turning over a can of soup she wasn’t going to buy.

She wasn’t really hungry. She’d come because she needed to get out of her apartment. The silence there had felt heavier than usual. Too many thoughts. Too much replaying of things she shouldn’t still be thinking about.

She exhaled and set the can back.

Rounding the corner near the bakery, her steps slowed.

A family stood just ahead—young, glowing in that effortlessly chaotic way.

The woman was pregnant, her hand resting low on her round belly. Her husband stood beside her, pushing a cart already half-full. They were laughing about something Rey couldn’t hear. In the child seat of the cart sat a toddler with chubby cheeks and a smeared mouth, holding a plastic-wrapped muffin like it was treasure.

Rey froze for a second too long.

Something about them—something ordinary and soft—caught her.

The way the man gently touched his wife’s back when she reached for a loaf of bread. The way the little boy babbled and pointed at the overhead signs, kicking his feet against the cart. The quiet safety of it all.

Kylo’s voice echoed uninvited in her mind.

You still want it. A family. A home. A husband. Kids. The fucking house with the white picket fence. You want the whole damn cliché

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her basket.

She wanted to scoff. To shake her head and laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stood there in the middle of aisle seven, heart too loud in her chest, watching a stranger’s moment like it was a scene from a life she’d been told to stop dreaming about.

She blinked hard, suddenly aware of the sting behind her eyes. Turned away quickly, like she hadn’t been staring at all.

And when she walked to the checkout, she realized her basket was still empty.

Chapter 2

Rey opened the door without knocking this time.

The smoke hit her first—again. Sharp and acrid, curling through the stale air of the room.

Kylo Ren was perched near the window, one leg bent up on the radiator, elbow resting on his knee. He brought the cigarette to his lips with practiced ease, eyes flicking toward her without surprise.

She stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her. “You’re going to ruin your lungs at this rate.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Been doing this for the last eighteen years. If they haven’t collapsed already, I’d say they’re doing just fine.”

Rey rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the faint twitch of her lips.

Kylo tapped ash into a small ceramic dish on the sill. “Started when I was twelve. Stole one from my uncle’s coat pocket.” He smirked at the memory. “Didn’t even cough.”

“That’s not something to brag about,” Rey muttered, reaching for the blood pressure cuff from her kit.

She moved toward him with practiced ease, wrapping the cuff around his arm. Her fingers brushed his skin, cool and impersonal, but he watched her closely, eyes following every movement.

She glanced up. “How long have you been here?”

“Fourteen years.”

Rey blinked. Her hands stilled.

She looked up, caught off guard. “Fourteen?”

Rey exhaled slowly. That was longer than she’d expected. Longer than she thought anyone could endure in a place like this.

“You’ve been institutionalized your entire adult life,” she said quietly.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look ashamed. “You say that like I missed something.”

“I mean…” She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it. “Didn’t you have… a life before this?”

Kylo leaned back against the sill, watching the smoke drift upward toward the ceiling.

“Everyone has a ‘before’,” he said. “Not everyone wants to go back to it.”

Something in his tone made her throat tighten, but she pushed the feeling down. Instead, she stepped forward again and lifted the stethoscope to his arm.

After a pause, she murmured, “Well… at least you didn’t have to stress about college applications. That can be its own kind of hell.”

Kylo huffed a short breath, something almost like a laugh. “I didn’t need college.”

She looked up, brow raised. “No?”

“I learn better on my own.”

“Self-taught, huh?”

“Is there any other way?” He nodded toward the dog-eared copy of Crime and Punishment on the sill. “There’s a library here,” he added.

That made her blink. “There is?”

Kylo smirked. “What, you didn’t know?”

Rey shook her head. “No one mentioned it.”

“It’s on the third floor,” he said. “Staff hardly ever go up there anymore. Probably forgot it exists.”

Rey’s brows knit, surprised. She thought she’d seen every corner of the asylum by now—but not a library.

She opened her mouth to reply, but then paused. “Wait, the third floor’s off-limits to patients.”

He raised a brow. “You think that stops me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not supposed to go up there alone.”

“Neither are you,” he said with a slow grin. “Maybe next time you should come with me. I’ll show you where they keep the poetry.”

Rey let out a laugh before she could stop it.

“Not a chance,” she said. “I’ve got enough paperwork to drown in without getting written up for breaking protocol.”

Kylo’s grin deepened at her refusal, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his dark eyes catching hers with quiet focus.

 “You afraid to be alone with me?”

Rey’s smile faded, just a fraction. “No,” she said too quickly.

He tilted his head. “You sure?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, ignoring the sudden rush of heat in her chest. “I’ve been alone with you plenty of times.”

“Not really,” he said. “There’s always someone down the hall. A clock ticking on the wall, telling you when to leave.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Kylo's gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it darkened.

“You should be,” he said quietly. “You have no idea the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”

She stared at him, trying to read his expression—whether it was a joke, a warning, or something else entirely. But he wasn’t smiling anymore. There was no mockery in his voice.

Her hand dropped from his arm. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he said. “You’d like it.”

The air between them shifted, thickened.

“In fact, you’d ask for more,” he added, voice barely above a whisper.

A flush crept up her neck before she could stop it.

And he saw it—of course he did.

His mouth curved, slow and knowing. “There it is,” he said, voice low and rough. “That blush I like.”

Rey ignored the way her stomach flipped at that. She focused on recording his vitals. “Blood pressure’s normal.”

“For someone who smokes like a chimney?”

She allowed herself a smile—barely.

He didn’t say anything for a beat, just watched her as she tidied the kit and stepped back..

Kylo’s eyes followed her as she gathered her things, a slow, almost teasing smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Take care, baby girl,” he said quietly, voice low and rough like a secret meant only for her.

Rey paused for a heartbeat, fingers tightening around her clipboard.

She didn’t correct him.

Instead, she offered a small, steady nod and headed for the door, the quiet click echoing behind her as she left the room, her heart beating a little faster than before.

 

__________

 

The heavy front doors of Chandrilla Asylum swung open, letting the cool afternoon air wash over Rey as she stepped out. Her heels clicked against the concrete path leading toward the parking lot, the clipboard still tucked under her arm.

Just as she reached the lot, a familiar voice called out behind her.

“Rey! Hey, wait up!”

She turned to see Poe jogging toward her, his easy grin already in place. “We’re all heading to that new bar down the street—thought you might want to come.”

Rey hesitated, glancing toward her car. “Thanks, Poe, but I don’t really drink.”

He laughed. “You don’t have to. They’ve got all kinds of mocktails, and the food’s amazing. Come on, just one night off. You deserve it.”

She bit her lip, then shook her head lightly. “I appreciate it, but I should probably—”

Poe cut her off with a raised hand. “No excuses. You’ll have fun. And if not, you can bail whenever you want.”

After a moment, Rey gave in, a reluctant smile breaking through. “Alright, one drink. But just one.”

Poe grinned triumphantly. “Perfect. I’ll grab my wallet and the car keys real quick inside—don’t go anywhere.” He waved a hand and headed back toward the asylum doors.

Rey stood alone in the parking lot, the clipboard tucked securely under her arm. The air felt heavier now, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the asphalt. A strange flutter stirred in her chest—unease, or maybe something else she couldn’t quite name.

She glanced up instinctively.

There, framed by the narrow window high above the entrance, was Kylo.

For a moment, the noise of the parking lot faded away, the distant hum of traffic and the rustling of leaves drowned out by the steady beat of her own pulse.

She swallowed hard, forcing her breath to even out.

His face was blank—no smirk, no hint of amusement, just an unreadable mask that made her stomach twist. His dark eyes stared down at her, cold and steady, as if weighing her silently, calculating something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Then, without another word, he turned from the window, disappearing into the shadows behind the glass.

Rey exhaled, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

 

__________

 

Inside the bar, the atmosphere was loud and lively. Poe introduced her to a few of the hospital staff—nurses, orderlies, a couple of doctors. They laughed easily, sharing stories and teasing one another.

Rey smiled, even laughed at some of the jokes, but an uneasy feeling settled in her chest.

Her mind wandered, drifting away from the crowded table. She imagined being back in her bed, wrapped in the soft warmth of the sheets. Maybe doing things she shouldn’t—fingers tracing patterns on her skin, thoughts conjuring Kylo with her, beside her, on top of her...

She shook the thought away quickly, not about to admit that out loud.

Instead, she sipped her soda quietly, forcing herself to stay present.

For some reason, Rey felt like she was doing something wrong. Like a child caught doing something forbidden, disobeying an unspoken rule laid down by some stern adult watching just out of sight.

Before she could get lost in the spiraling feeling, Poe’s voice cut through the haze.

“You look tired, Rey,” he said gently, concern flickering in his eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

She blinked, startled back to the room. For a moment, the bubble of discomfort burst, and she forced a small, tired smile.

“I’m fine,” she replied softly, though even to her ears it sounded fragile. “Just… long day.”

“Is Kylo giving you a hard time?”

Rey shook her head quickly, a faint tension tightening her jaw. “No, it’s not that. I’m just a little tired. I think I’m ready to call it.”

He nodded slowly, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. Take care of yourself. If you change your mind, we’re here.”

She smiled faintly, standing up and gathering her things. “Thanks, Poe. I should head home now. You guys have fun.”

 

__________

 

The next day, Rey found herself standing in front of the locked door at the end of a dimly lit corridor on the third floor of Chandrilla Asylum. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure the coast was clear, then pushed the door open, revealing rows of dusty bookshelves bathed in the soft glow of a single overhead light.

She stepped inside, the scent of aged paper and leather filling the air.

At a table near the far wall, Kylo Ren sat with his usual composed demeanor, a book open before him.

Before Rey could say a word, he looked up and smirked. “Did you have fun last night?”

She paused, caught off guard by the question, then looked away briefly before meeting his gaze again.

“It’s none of your business,” she said finally, voice low but steady.

“You’re my nurse.”

Rey straightened, folding her arms. “Yes. Your nurse, not your friend.”

He leaned back, eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. “Good. I don’t want you to be my friend.”

Kylo’s smirk widened, a spark of mischief lighting his dark eyes.

“If you don’t want to talk about your night, I can always tell you about mine, of course.”

He closed his book with a deliberate snap and leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, his gauze heavy on hers. “Kept thinking about you in that uniform, looking at me with those dove eyes, begging to be fucked.”

He stood slowly, every movement unhurried.

“I pictured you on your knees,” he murmured, stepping out from behind the table, “mouth parted, eyes wide… and so, so obedient for me.”

Rey held her ground, but her pulse was wild. She hated that her thighs pressed together instinctively. Hated that her breath had gone shallow.

“Stop,” Rey said, voice tight. “This isn’t appropriate.”

"Oh, but there's nothing proper about what I want to do to you, baby girl," he said, stepping closer, each step deliberate, measured—like a predator circling its prey.

Rey’s jaw clenched. Her fists were tight at her sides, but her body… her body betrayed her. Heat bloomed in her cheeks. Her thighs clenched tighter.

He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed her ear.

“I dreamt of this,” he whispered. “Of you wet and trembling under my hands, trying so hard to pretend you don’t want me.”

His hand ghosted up her side, fingers just grazing the fabric of her uniform. “But you do, don’t you?”

Rey swallowed hard. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

Kylo didn’t let her finish.

He pressed forward, and suddenly Rey found herself pressed against the library door, her eyes widening as she realized there was something very hard and very large pressing against her stomach.

He was taller, broader, stronger. And he was a patient. A man with a diagnosis. She should be terrified.

She should scream. Push him away. Run.

But the only thing she felt was a deep, dark throb between her legs—hot and insistent. Her panties clung wetly to her, soaked through in seconds, and she hated how her knees wobbled. How her body betrayed every rational thought.

Kylo’s lips hovered just above hers, his breath hot and slow.

“Scared?” he whispered, his voice almost tender—if not for the wicked gleam in his eyes.

Rey didn’t answer.

Because yes, part of her was afraid.

But not of him.

Of herself.

Of how badly she wanted him to touch her again. To really touch her.

Kylo’s hand slid down, palm brushing her thigh, fingers skimming the hem of her skirt.

His fingers found the bare skin just above her stockings. Rey jerked, but didn’t stop him.

Couldn’t.

“You’re soaked,” he growled softly, voice vibrating against her throat. “Right through your panties. I haven’t even kissed you, and your pussy’s already begging for me.”

Rey’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft sound escaping her lips before she could stop it.

That sound made Kylo groan—low and guttural.

“I don’t need your friendship, baby girl,” he said, gaze holding hers like a tether. “What I really need is your tight little pussy squeezing my cock.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he said, voice low and reverent, like a prayer. “Break you open… and put you back together with me buried so deep inside you, you won’t know where you end and I begin.”

Kylo’s hand slid up to her throat, slow and deliberate. His fingers wrapped around her neck, her pulse jumping beneath his palm.

His grip tightened.

For one terrifying moment, her body stiffened—her brain screaming that this was too far. That he was going to kill her.

And then—

Kylo loosened his hold, leaned in, and kissed her.

Rey moaned into his mouth as his hand tightened once more at her throat, firm but controlled. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind her she’d given herself over.

To him.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing hers.

“You’re mine now,” he growled. “Say it.”

Rey’s chest heaved, her body trembling. But she nodded, her voice a broken whisper.

“I’m yours.”

Something primal shifted behind Kylo’s eyes.

His hands were on her immediately—rough now, greedy. He yanked her skirt up around her waist.

With one hand still at her throat, holding her steady against the door, his other hand slid between her thighs, pushing her panties aside to bare the heat of her slick cunt.

Rey gasped.

Then whimpered.

One thick finger slid inside her—slow, deliberate, dragging along the trembling walls that clenched down around him.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured. “This little pussy was fucking made for me.”

Rey arched into the touch, a desperate sound escaping her throat. He added a second finger, then curled them just right—and her knees nearly buckled.

“Eyes on mine.” He commanded, hand flexing around her throat just enough to steady her, “Don't fucking take your eyes off me. I want you to see.”

She obeyed.

Her body moved to his rhythm, hips rocking into every thrust of his fingers, her breath coming in broken little pants as heat coiled low and hard in her belly.

And when she got close—so close—he stopped.

Withdrew his hand. Smiled darkly when she whimpered in protest.

“Not yet,” he said.

He reached down, unfastened his pants with one hand, and freed his cock—hard, thick, flushed dark with need.

Rey’s breath caught at the sight of it.

Kylo watched her face—watched how her pupils blew wide, how her lips parted.

Then, slowly, he guided her hand to him.

“Feel that?” he asked, voice a growl. “That’s what you do to me.”

Rey curled her fingers around him, and Kylo hissed between his teeth, his hips twitching forward instinctively.

"On your knees.”

He guided her down with one hand on her shoulder, the other still wrapped around her throat in a ghost of a hold. When she sank, she looked up at him, chest rising and falling fast, mouth inches from the tip of his cock.

Kylo’s eyes burned.

“Now open,” he whispered. “And take what I give you.”

Rey opened her mouth for him, lips parting with obedience so natural it made something savage flicker in Kylo’s eyes.

He brushed his cock along her lower lip, slow, deliberate, watching the way her tongue instinctively flicked out to taste him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Just like that.”

He guided her forward, hips rolling in shallow thrusts as she took him deeper—inch by inch—until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat and her eyes fluttered with the effort.

“Breathe through your nose,” he murmured. “Take me. Let me fuck that pretty mouth like it belongs to me.”

His cock slid in and out of her slowly at first, wet and hot and tight, her tongue wrapping around him with every pass.

His breath grew ragged. His pace deepened.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growled, his voice velvet over steel. “Getting on your knees for me. Letting me use that pretty mouth. So fucking obedient.”

Rey didn’t answer with words.

She didn’t have to.

Her body answered—arching into his grip, lips parting again, eyes locked to his like she needed him to finish what he’d started.

Kylo’s jaw flexed.

But just when he was right at the edge—when his hips stuttered and his cock twitched inside her mouth—he pulled back with a growl, fingers tightening just enough to lift her head away.

Rey gasped, her lips slick, her eyes wild.

But Kylo wasn’t finished.

He hauled her to her feet, turned her swiftly, and bent her over the nearest table.

“You thought I’d finish in your mouth?” he rasped against her ear. “No.”

His hand slid between her thighs, finding her soaked and ready.

“My release belongs here,” he growled, dragging the tip of his cock through her slick folds, pressing right against her entrance. “Deep inside this pussy,”

Rey gripped the edge of the table, her heart hammering. Her entire body ached—taut with tension, slick with anticipation.

“Beg for it,” Kylo said, his voice a brutal whisper. “Beg me to take you.”

Rey turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his through strands of hair.

And she whispered, “Please.”

Then she felt him.

The head of his cock, hot and thick, pressing against her entrance.

And then—With one deep, steady push, he filled her.

Pain bloomed—hot and sudden, a sting deep in her core—and she gasped, her body jolting forward slightly.

Her body fought to take him, to adjust, and for a moment, all she could do was hold on.

Kylo stilled, buried inside her to the hilt, his breath ragged against her skin.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice nearly breaking. “So fucking tight.”

Rey gasped again, body stretched tight around him, full in a way that bordered on unbearable.

Her body trembled, still adjusting, and then she felt it—his fingers flexing in her hair, the slow, deliberate roll of his hips as he pulled back—

And drove in again.

So deep she saw stars behind her eyelids.

Kylo leaned over her, his body flush against hers, his voice a growl at her ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her skin. “You’re taking me so well.”

Rey could only moan in response, her cheek pressed to the cool wood, her hips lifting to meet every thrust.

Each time he filled her, the ache blurred into something molten. Every slide of his cock inside her chipped away at the last of her restraint. And when he tugged her hair back just slightly, tilting her head up so he could see her expression—

Something in her cracked open completely.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Let me see what I do to you.”

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with pleasure, and when she looked back at him—panting, eyes wide, skin flushed—

He cursed softly, and his pace deepened, harder now, every thrust landing with the full weight of him—driving her forward against the table, pulling her closer to the edge with every movement.

Rey couldn’t think.

Couldn’t speak.

Her body was too full, too raw, too overwhelmed.

She clung to the table like a lifeline, the only thing keeping her from unraveling completely. Her breath came in desperate little pants, the sound of her moans caught between the crackle of old wood and the wet slap of skin on skin.

His hand moved from her hip to her stomach, sliding lower until his fingers brushed over her clit—slow at first, then circling, firm and insistent. She gasped, hips jerking, thighs shaking.

“Let me feel this tight little cunt pulse around me,” he rasped. “Let me feel you lose it for me.”

And god—she was right there.

The pressure snapped in her belly, wave after wave rolling through her, sharp and sweet and all-consuming.

She cried out, her entire body seizing with pleasure, her inner walls clamping down around him in frantic pulses—and Kylo groaned, deep and raw.

“Yes,” he breathed. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as she milked him with every throb of her climax.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, one hand sliding up her body to her chest, the other still teasing her through the aftershocks. “Took everything I gave you.”

He slowed, still deep inside her, his voice softer now.

“You did so fucking well for me, Rey.”

Their breathing filled the space between them—ragged, uneven, crashing against the silence like waves on stone.

Kylo stayed still, still inside her, his body pressed against hers. She could feel the tremble in his chest against her back, could feel the tension in his grip… and the strange stillness that followed.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

It was as if he didn’t want to let go. As if pulling out would mean undoing something they had just made real.

Rey stayed folded over the table, her body trembling with every aftershock. Her thighs ached. Her core throbbed—overused, stretched, still pulsing with echoes of him.

She didn’t speak either.

Didn’t want to break the quiet. Didn't want to bring up the huge mistake she had just made.

Eventually, Kylo exhaled—slow, long—and his cock softened inside her. He shifted slightly, and she felt him slip free, the wet drag of him pulling from her body leaving her suddenly too empty.

Rey winced, sensitive, sore.

She didn’t move.

Just let her forehead rest against the cool wood, her fingers still curled against the grain, her breathing finally starting to even out.

Behind her, silence stretched again.

Something wasn’t right.

When she finally gathered the strength to glance back over her shoulder, Kylo was standing behind her, shirt rumpled, pants half-open, his hands at his sides.

He was staring down.

Not at her.

At himself.

At the length of his cock, soft now, wet with their release.

His expression was unreadable.

Rey followed his gaze.

And then she saw it.

A smear of blood.

Not much. Just a trace, dark against the flushed skin.

Rey stared at the mark.

It shouldn’t have surprised her. She knew—knew it was her first time, knew there would be pain, maybe even blood. But somehow, seeing it there—on him—made it feel more real than anything else had.

She slowly pushed herself upright, wincing at the discomfort, the wet stickiness between her thighs. Her skirt fell unevenly around her hips. She didn’t fix it.

“I’m sorry.”

The words left Rey’s lips before she even knew she was speaking.

Kylo looked up from the blood, his brow furrowing.

“You were a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question.

Still, Rey nodded. Barely.

She never had time for boys. She needed to work. Earn money. Study. Support herself. She couldn't depend on anyone. Romance and sex were at the bottom of her list of priorities.

She figured her first time would be with someone special, after she had waited so long for it. Definitely not with a mentally stable patient in the library of the asylum where she worked.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, voice barely above a whisper. “I should’ve told you. I just… I didn’t want it to be some big thing. And now…” She trailed off, chest tight, throat hot. “I bled on you, and I made a mess, and—”

“Rey,” he said gently.

She finally looked up, bracing herself for some twist in his expression—pity, maybe. Regret.

Instead, what she saw was something else entirely.

His jaw was tense, but not from anger. His hands flexed once at his sides, then stilled. And when he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before.

“You weren’t the only one.”

Rey blinked. “What?”

He exhaled slowly.

“That was my first time too.”

She stared at him.

"But you—”

"I've been here since I was sixteen, remember?" he shrugs, “I didn’t have much time to get it wet before I got locked up.”

Rey wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. “I just thought... with the way you talk, the way you touch me—”

“I’ve thought about it,” he said quickly, eyes flicking to hers. “A lot. Especially after you got here. I’ve had time, you know. And some dose of natural talent, probably.”

And it hit her, with sudden, disorienting clarity:

She had just taken the virginity of a thirty-year-old man who looked like sin carved out of marble. Someone whose presence filled every corner of a room, who moved like a wolf, who spoke like he could undo you with just a sentence.

And she’d been his first.

Not some seasoned lover. Not some femme fatale with hours of experience and the confidence to match.

Her.

A junior nurse. A woman who’d never even been touched like that before today.

The kind of man other women would’ve thrown themselves at—would have torn each other apart for, if he hadn’t been locked up behind walls and labels and glass.

He’d been her first, too.

She swallowed hard, arms tightening around her middle as she fought to process it all.

“Open your legs for me.”

The words landed like a jolt.

Her breath hitched, eyes snapping up to meet his.

“What—?”

She tensed automatically, instinct curling her inward.

"I need to check you," he says simply, "You're bleeding. I need to make sure I didn't tear anything."

With a small breath, she shifted, lifting one leg to rest her foot on the edge of the table. Then the other. Slowly. Her skirt fell awkwardly into her lap, bunching around her thighs.

She looked away, cheeks flushed. She’d never felt so exposed. Not even during the act itself. This was different. Quiet. Stripped of heat, but no less intense.

She heard the rustle of his movement, and then felt him crouch slightly in front of her. His fingers weren’t demanding, just deliberate, opening her gently so he could see for himself what damage, if any, he had done.

“You’re a little bruised,” he murmured. “And swollen. But there’s no tear.”

Rey nodded, keeping her eyes on the ceiling. Anything but his face. The heat of her embarrassment still clung to her skin like sweat.

She expected him to step back. To give her space again.

Instead, she suddenly felt something wet slide down the length of her slit. She jerked slightly, her eyes snapping down toward him.

“What—what are you doing?” she whispered, voice tight.

Kylo didn’t look up immediately. His gaze was focused between her thighs.

“Cleaning you,” he murmured.

“But—but I’m bleeding,” Rey whispered, her voice cracking with confusion and vulnerability.

Kylo finally looked up at her—and what she saw in his eyes made her breath catch.

There was no disgust. No hesitation.

Only hunger.

“I know,” he said, “And the taste of your blood,” he murmured, his tongue flicking across his lips slowly, deliberately, “mixed with your pussy juices... it’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had.”

Kylo leaned in closer, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he breathed, his hands sliding up her thighs, parting her even more. “Raw. Bleeding. Open.”

His head dipped again, the heat of his mouth hovering just above her most sensitive spot.

“I wish you could see it. Your creamy pussy dripping with your blood and my cum. It's fucking beautiful. And I’m going to lick up every drop,” he whispered, his voice a dark promise. “Because this pussy? This body? It’s mine now. Every inch of you.”

Her head fell back as his tongue moved again.

He licked her like he was starving. Like this was what he’d waited his whole life for.

Her blood, her arousal, the evidence of what they’d done—it didn’t repel him.

It consumed him.

Rey’s thighs closed around his head instinctively, but he just gripped her hips harder, growling softly in approval.

“Oh, no, baby. Don't you try to close those legs for me,” he said. “Because now that I’ve tasted you, I’m never fucking stopping.”

Chapter 3

Rey stood frozen in front of the bright neon cross sign above the pharmacy, her fingers fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket. She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The cool, antiseptic air hit her face immediately. Rows and rows of perfectly arranged products greeted her, each aisle labeled with bold, impersonal letters. She spotted the Family Planning section like a flashing red light at the far end of the store.

Her legs felt heavy.

You’re being dramatic, she scolded herself, walking briskly past a shelf of cold medicine. But the flush creeping up her neck didn’t listen. She reached the aisle and hesitated before picking up the small, inconspicuous box.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned it over, reading the instructions. Of all the things she’d prepared for, this hadn’t been on the list.

How could I be so stupid? she thought. Letting him finish inside. Like a complete idiot.

Rey’s cheeks burned.

Still gripping the box like it might bite her, she made her way to the counter. A young man was working the register. He looked about her age, maybe a year younger, with bored eyes and a lip piercing. Rey set the box down as quickly as she could, avoiding his gaze.

He scanned it without blinking. “Do you want a bag?”

She nodded silently, still not looking at him.

As she tapped her card, a voice in her head tried to reassure her: At least you don’t have to worry about STDs. First time for both of you, remember? Just bad timing and worse decisions.

The receipt printed with an annoyingly cheerful beep. She grabbed the bag, mumbled a quick “thanks”, and rushed out the door.

Once outside, Rey paused on the sidewalk, clutching the small paper bag to her chest like it contained a live bomb. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Next time, think with your brain. Not your hormones.

 

__________

 

The tires hummed against the asphalt as Rey’s car wound its way back toward Chandrilla Asylum, the familiar silhouette of the facility rising in the distance like a gray, brooding shadow against the morning sky. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles pale with tension.

Rey exhaled sharply and blinked at the road, trying to banish the memory of Kylo’s hands on her.

It had been a mistake. A massive one.

She was his nurse. His nurse. He was her patient.

Whatever blurred line had been crossed in that dimly lit library, it had to be redrawn. Erased. Forgotten.

She had responsibilities. A code. Professional boundaries. And Kylo Ren… he was a resident of Chandrilla Asylum for a reason. Whether he masked it well or not, whether he seemed lucid or charming or even safe—he wasn’t. He wasn’t normal.

And yet she had let him take her apart like she was something he already owned.

She swallowed hard. Her cheeks burned with shame.

He had been the first. Her first. After all those years of guarding herself, of waiting—she’d given it to someone who couldn’t even leave the grounds. Someone who teased and toyed and pushed until her defenses cracked like porcelain.

No.

No more.

It couldn’t happen again.

Rey pulled into the staff lot, cut the engine, and sat in the silence that followed. Her hands were still trembling slightly.

She would go in. Do her rounds. Check his vitals like always. Pretend like nothing had changed. Because nothing could change. Not really. He would remain a patient. She would remain his nurse.

And whatever storm had passed between them that night would end there.

It had to.

With that, Rey opened the car door and stepped into the cold morning air, her resolve hardening with every step.

The corridor outside Kylo’s room was quiet. Rey’s footsteps were soft but deliberate, echoing faintly off the sterile walls as she approached his door, tray of medications in hand.

She paused, breathing deep through her nose. Just deliver the meds. Stay professional. Get out.

She stepped inside—

—and the door slammed shut behind her.

Before she could turn, before she could even react, she was pressed back against the cold wood with startling force. Her tray clattered to the floor. A sharp gasp tore from her throat.

Kylo’s body caged hers, overwhelming heat and power and stillness. His hand came up and gripped the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, anchoring her. His forehead leaned against hers, and his breath washed over her lips—warm, ragged.

“I missed you,” he whispered, voice hoarse and close.

Rey’s breath hitched. Her pulse slammed.

She should’ve pushed him away. She should’ve yelled. Instead, she froze—heart hammering, resolve fraying beneath the sound of his voice in her bones.

“Don’t.”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that.” She looked away. “We crossed a line.”

His voice softened. “You didn’t seem to mind crossing it.”

“I was wrong.” Her eyes met his again, hard now. “You’re my patient, Kylo.”

Kylo’s jaw tightened.

His hand didn’t move from the back of her neck, but the air around him shifted.

“You were wrong?” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “You were the one who begged me to keep going. Who couldn’t stop shaking when I touched you. That wasn’t professionalism, Rey.”

She flinched at the bitterness in his tone.

“I made a mistake,” she said, but it came out weaker this time. “I lost control.”

His eyes narrowed, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. “No. You gave in. You wanted it as much as I did.”

Rey shook her head, trying to push against his chest, but his body didn’t budge.

“We can’t do this again,” she said, voice low but resolute. “This isn’t just wrong—it’s dangerous. For both of us. I could lose everything I’ve worked for if anyone found out.”

Kylo’s grip on the back of her neck tightened just slightly, enough to draw a sharp breath from her. His dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that was almost unbearable.

“Dangerous,” he repeated slowly, savoring the word. “Is that what scares you? Or the idea that you might actually want this? Want me?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “You think I’m the danger? Maybe you don’t realize how much I’ve held back. How much I’m willing to give if you just let me.”

Her hands pressed flat against his chest, trying to create space, but it felt like pushing against stone. “No, Kylo. This has to stop. For both our sakes.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t get to decide that.”

His hand curled tighter at the nape of her neck, the pressure sending a sharp pulse of warning through her.

“If you refuse me,” he said, voice low and deadly calm, “I’ll make sure your supervisor knows exactly what happened between us. Every single detail of it. I'll make sure he knows how much you enjoyed losing your cherry to my cock."

Rey’s breath caught, heart pounding fiercely in her chest.

“You wouldn’t.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He smiled—a cold, knowing curve of his lips. “Try me.”

The room felt smaller, the weight of his threat pressing down on her like a physical force.

"You don't get to push me away, baby girl," he says, "I'll have you. Whenever and wherever I want, because you belong to me."

Her body trembled, a mixture of fear and something far more complicated twisting inside her.

"So that's it? You're going to force me?" she laughed humorlessly, "How pathetic are you to have to coerce a woman into sleeping with you?"

“When it comes to you,” he said, his voice tight, “you have no idea how pathetic I can be.”

Rey stared up at him, every inch of her trembling — not just from fear, but fury.

“So,” he said at last, voice low and calculated, “what’s it going to be, Rey? Should I walk out of here and head straight to your supervisor? Or are you going to... cooperate?”

Her eyes flicked between his, her pulse throbbing in her ears.

A slow smile spread across his face.

He knew he'd won.

"There's a good girl," he whispered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip, "I've got you. Don't worry, baby."

Rey's chest tightened. Her nails dug into his chest, the anger inside her threatening to burst.

"Fuck. You," she spat.

Kylo's expression darkened.

He moved his hand from her neck, gripped her wrist, and dragged her to the bed, the sudden movement making her stumble. He released her and she fell back on the mattress.

"Take off your clothes."

Rey's breath was ragged, her body tensed, ready to fight, ready to scream.

"Go to hell."

Kylo's eyes narrowed.

"Take off your fucking clothes. Now."

Her blood boiled, rage and humiliation and a deep, aching need twisting together inside her. She wanted to punch him. To make him bleed.

She stood up slowly, meeting his gaze.

Then she reached down and unbuttoned her uniform.

Kylo's expression remained still, but his eyes tracked her every movement as she kicked off her shoes, pulled off her pants, and peeled her shirt over her head.

When she was down to her bra and underwear, she stood before him, her chin tilted up, eyes burning with defiance.

"Are you done?"

His eyes slid over her, and his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip.

"Almost," he said.

He stepped toward her, reached out and brushed his fingertips across the edge of her bra, the touch almost a whisper.

"This, too."

Rey stared at him, the rage inside her building.

She reached behind her back, undid the clasp, and let the straps fall from her shoulders. The bra hit the floor with a soft thud.

Kylo exhaled slowly.

His eyes fell on her breasts, small and bare before him, nipples already peaked, goosebumps dotting her skin.

“Those are very pretty tits, baby girl.”

His hand reached out and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing across her nipple.

Her stomach tightened.

"Now the rest," he said.

Her face burned.

"Please," she whispered, hating the desperation in her voice.

Kylo's jaw tightened. He reached out and gripped her hip, the touch possessive.

"I want them off. Now."

Rey closed her eyes and nodded.

She slid her panties down and stepped out of them, her legs trembling slightly.

He took a moment to look at her, his eyes dark and hungry.

"You're so beautiful, Rey."

The praise was almost too much.

She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes.

Kylo leaned in and brushed a kiss across her lips, his mouth warm and soft, a cruel mockery of tenderness.

"Now be a good girl and lay down on the bed," he said, his breath tickling her lips, "face-up. I want to see your eyes while I fuck you."

Rey's breath caught in her throat.

She turned slowly, walked to the bed, and laid down. The sheets were cold beneath her. She stared up at the ceiling, the fluorescent light washing over her.

Just this one more time. He'll eventually get tired of you.

Kylo approached her, his body a shadow against the bright glare.

He leaned down and placed his hand on her knee, the touch searing her skin.

"Open," he said.

Her thighs parted slowly.

Kylo knelt on the bed, between her legs.

"You can do better than that," he said.

His hand gripped her thigh and shoved her legs further apart. Rey gasped, the sudden pressure stinging.

"Keep them open."

Rey gritted her teeth, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

She stared up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching her reaction as he spread her open, exposing her wet cunt, her pussy pink and glistening, her clit swollen and hard.

He reached down and dragged a finger through her folds, a shudder of pleasure rippling through her.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he murmured.

Rey's cheeks burned with shame.

He stroked her again, slowly, drawing a moan from her.

"That's right," he said, his voice rough, "let me hear you."

He continued stroking her, his fingers dragging through her wetness, circling her clit, teasing her entrance. Rey's body arched off the bed, her hips rocking, the pleasure building in her, the humiliation only adding to it.

Kylo's breathing was heavy now, his cock straining against his jeans.

He slid a finger inside her, her pussy clenching around him.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he growled, "your little cunt is practically sucking my fingers in."

He slid another finger inside her, stretching her. Rey moaned, her hips moving, riding his fingers, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling, her face flushed, her mind clouded with lust.

He fucked her with his fingers, his thumb pressing against her clit, his free hand gripping her thigh, keeping her legs spread wide for him.

Rey's breathing was ragged now, her body trembling, the pleasure building in her, tight and hot and overwhelming.

“You gonna come for me, baby girl?” he rasped, his mouth hot against her thigh. “Already? Just from my fingers?”

She shook her head, barely able to form words. “N-no—please—”

Her back arched when he added a third finger, her pussy stretching to accommodate the thick intrusion.

“God, you're tight,” he growled. “You like being stretched open like this? Like a good little slut?”

A sob escaped her—half pleasure, half shame. She didn’t answer.

His hand snapped up, catching her chin and forcing her to look at him.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “I—fuck—I like it.”

He smirked, and the dark glint in his eyes made her heart stutter.

“That’s more like it.”

He released her chin, then leaned down and licked a slow, filthy stripe up her soaked slit. Rey cried out, her body jerking, her legs trying to close—he stopped them with a sharp slap to her thigh.

“Keep them open,” he snarled. “Or I’ll tie them apart.”

Her pussy throbbed at the threat.

He buried his face between her legs, tongue lapping at her greedily, devouring her like he hadn’t eaten in days. Every flick of his tongue against her clit sent lightning through her spine. He moaned against her, and the vibration made her vision blur.

She was so close.

“Please,” she gasped, “please, I need to—”

He pulled away.

Rey sobbed.

Kylo crawled up her body, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. His other undid his belt slowly, the metallic clink echoing in the room. She looked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted, completely undone.

He freed his cock, thick and flushed, precum already beading at the tip.

“You want this?” he asked, dragging it along her slit, making her hips jerk.

“Yes,” she whispered, desperate. “I want it—I want you—”

He lined himself up, and with one hard thrust, sank deep into her soaked cunt.

Rey cried out, her body stretching to take him, the fullness dizzying.

Kylo groaned, forehead dropping to hers. “Fuck, baby girl… you feel like heaven.”

He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, setting a brutal rhythm. Her wrists strained against his grip, her moans filling the room, loud and broken and pleading.

“Look at me,” he growled. “You don’t come without my permission.”

Her eyes fluttered open, locking on his.

He fucked her deep and hard, every thrust sending shockwaves through her, her legs shaking where he kept them wide apart with his hips.

She was already dizzy from the pace, from the stretch, from the way his cock hit something deep inside her with every stroke.

“Please, Kylo—,” she sobbed, “I need—let me—”

But he didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled out slowly, making her whimper at the loss, and then slapped her pussy once—sharp and wet and devastating. Her hips bucked. Her clit throbbed.

“Not yet.”

Rey cried out, the ache between her legs near unbearable. Her body was soaked, trembling, too close to the edge to think straight. Her arms strained where he held her down, her mind a blur of white-hot need and humiliation.

 “On your knees.”

She blinked, stunned, chest heaving.

“Turn over.”

Rey obeyed with a strangled breath, rolling onto all fours, her arms weak. The cold air hit her wetness, making her shiver. She heard the shift of the mattress behind her, felt his hand grip her ass roughly.

He slapped her again.

Rey jerked forward with a sharp cry.

“You like that?” he rasped, lining his cock up with her soaked entrance. “Like being used like this?”

He rammed back into her in one brutal thrust.

She screamed into the sheets, the force of it nearly knocking her flat.

One hand gripped her hip, the other tangled in her hair, yanking her head back.

“Take it,” he hissed into her ear. “Take every inch like the good little whore you are.”

Her walls fluttered around him, her orgasm right there, hovering—

He pulled out again, and she almost sobbed in frustration. Her whole body was slick, trembling, her thighs sticky with arousal.

He dragged his cock through her folds, slow and cruel, teasing her clit with the tip.

He drove into her again, one hard thrust, and stayed deep, grinding against her, his hand now under her belly, pressing her down into the mattress.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “now come for me, baby girl. Let it all go.”

She shattered.

Her body convulsed, back arched, mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm tore through her.

But even through the haze of lust, one thought pushed through.

“Kylo—” she gasped, her voice broken, “I’m not on anything—you have to pull out—please.”

His rhythm faltered for half a second—barely enough to register—before he picked up again, harder this time. His hand gripped her hip like a vice, the other sliding up her spine until he had her hair wrapped tight in his fist.

“Kylo—"

“I heard you,” he growled into her ear.

Then why wasn’t he stopping?

Rey’s heart pounded. Her body was already betraying her, hips pushing back against him, craving more. Her pussy was so wet, so sensitive, so tight around him she could feel every twitch of his cock.

“Please,” she whispered again, her voice ragged. “Pull out—I mean it.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he slammed into her deeper, burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice rough and shaking. “You feel too good, baby girl.”

Terror and arousal clashed violently in her chest.

“No—Kylo—don’t—”

But he was too far gone.

He grunted once, and then he was spilling into her, thick and hot, his cock pulsing deep inside her pussy. Her breath hitched, her mouth falling open in shock as she felt it—every wave of it—as he emptied himself inside her, ignoring everything she’d said.

When he finally collapsed over her, still buried inside, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder—soft, almost apologetic.

“I couldn’t stop myself,” he murmured. “You were too tight. Too fucking perfect.”

Rey stared at the wall, her throat dry.

He stayed inside her for a long moment, like he couldn’t bear to let go. She could feel him softening, feel his come slowly leaking from her.

Rey didn’t move for a long moment.

She lay on her side, skin flushed, thighs still trembling. She blinked up at the ceiling, throat tight.

Then, voice low, barely above a whisper, she asked, “Can I… give you your medication now?”

Kylo leaned back against the headboard with a deep exhale, eyes fixed on her. One of his hands drifted lazily down her thigh, his fingers brushing through the mess between her legs.

“You can.”

She reached to pull the sheet over herself, to reach for her clothes crumpled on the floor nearby, but his voice cut her off—sharp, final.

“No.”

She froze.

“You’ll serve me like this,” he said. “Naked.”

Heat flared in her cheeks, shame tightening her chest. But she obeyed.

She crawled off the bed slowly, legs shaky, breasts swaying with the movement. When she bent to retrieve the tray, she felt a fresh trail of his cum slip down her inner thigh.

She tried not to think about how exposed she was, how filthy she looked—kneeling there naked on the institutional tile floor, hair mussed, her ass exposed behind her, collecting the scattered pills one by one with trembling fingers.

When she turned to him again, tray in hands, she couldn’t meet his gaze. Her nipples were still stiff, her body humming with the aftershocks of what they’d just done.

Kylo’s eyes didn’t leave her for a second.

He opened his mouth slightly, waiting.

She stepped closer, hand shaking slightly as she picked up the first pill and placed it on his tongue.

He swallowed.

She gave him the rest slowly, one by one. With every pill, she felt more aware of herself—of the way her breasts rose and fell, of the slickness on her thighs, of the way she still smelled like sex and sweat.

When it was over, Kylo tilted his head, his gaze trailing lazily over her naked form.

“I want you back here tomorrow night,” he said.

Rey’s heart stuttered.

“I’m not on the night shift,” she said quietly.

“You will be.”

She swallowed.

“Do you understand me?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

“…Yes.”

He smiled.

“Good girl.”

 

__________

 

Rey set the Plan B box own on the counter without a word.

The guy behind the register was the same as last time. Lip piercing, bored eyes.

He picked it up, scanned it. Said nothing.

She dug into her bag for her wallet, avoiding his eyes. Her fingers brushed the edge of a display rack near the counter. Condoms.

She hesitated, then—screw it.

She grabbed a box of them—large size, of course—and slapped it down next to the Plan B.

The guy blinked. His gaze flicked between the two items, then up to her face.

Rey didn’t flinch.

If I’m going to be here every three days, might as well get ahead of it.

Silence.

Then the scanner beeped again.

He still didn’t say anything. Just bagged the items and slid them across the counter.

“Do you want a receipt?” he asked flatly.

“No.”

She tapped her card, shoved everything into her purse, and turned to go.

Outside, the late afternoon air felt thick and hot. Rey leaned against the side of the building, staring out at the parking lot, her stomach tight.

She pulled the Plan B box out of her bag and stared at it.

Maybe quitting the Chandrilla Asylum was the answer. But the truth was that she needed the money.

And then there was Kylo. If the word got out—that she, a nurse, had slept with her patient—her career would be over before it even started.

Whatever this was—whatever he was—she was trapped in it now. And somehow, that terrified her, and thrilled her, all at once.

She slid her hands into her jacket pockets and pushed off from the wall, swallowing the knot in her throat.

He'll get tired of me. I'm just the novelty. But the novelty will eventually wear off, and everything will go back to normal.

 

__________

 

Over the next week, Rey kept telling herself she was still in control.

She brought the condoms. She watched him open them. He even let her roll them on himself a few times, his mouth curled in a smug little smile while she did it, as if amused by her insistence.

“Keeping us safe, hmm?” he’d whisper when she reached for one, letting her tear the foil open, letting her roll it down his length.

And then they fucked.

Everywhere.

In his bed, in the supply closet, once against the locked door of the art therapy room with her scrubs hiked up and his hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the sounds.

He took her hard, always — bending her over, lifting her onto his lap, pinning her wrists, flipping her over like she weighed nothing. He knew her body now, knew exactly how to break her apart, how to drag every moan from her throat until her legs gave out.

He made her feel drunk, addicted, wrecked.

And always, afterward, he’d pull her into his lap, kiss her neck, stroke her thighs. “You’re mine,” he’d murmur, his fingers brushing over her overstimulated sex. “This little pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

Sometimes, Rey almost believed it too.

He looked at her like she was salvation and destruction wrapped into one trembling, flushed, fucked-out package. And she felt it — not just in her cunt, sore and aching from how thoroughly he’d taken her, but deeper, in the marrow of her bones.

It scared her.

It thrilled her.

Every time she tried to put distance between them — skipping a shift, working in another wing — he found her. In the hall. The stairwell. Outside the staff kitchen with his hand already under her waistband before she could say no.

And when he whispered, “You’re mine,” she didn’t argue anymore.

Because some awful, aching part of her had started to think… maybe she was.

 

__________

 

Rey balanced the medication tray on one arm as she double-checked the names and doses taped neatly to each cup. Afternoon rounds were always a bit hectic, and she still had three patients left on her list.

She was just about to turn the corner toward Wing C when Poe stepped into her path, his expression unusually serious.

“Hey,” he said quietly, glancing at the tray. “You got a second?”

She blinked at his serious tone, nodding. “Sure.”

He led her toward a corner near the supply closet, far from where anyone else might overhear. His usual easy grin was missing, replaced by a tense crease between his brows.

“What is it?” Rey asked, heart suddenly tight in her chest.

Poe glanced around, then held up a thin sketchpad. “I... I help out during the art therapy sessions sometimes. Just prepping materials, cleaning up, that kind of thing. But today I was helping the psychologist organize some of the patient work, and... I wasn’t snooping, I swear. I just—Kylo’s sketchbook was left out, and I flipped through it.”

He paused, eyes searching hers.

“And?” she prompted, her voice quieter now.

Poe hesitated, then opened the sketchbook to a page.

It was a drawing. Of her.

A detailed pencil sketch — her face half-turned, mouth slightly parted, eyes downcast as if caught mid-thought. There was an eerie precision to it, a kind of intensity that made her skin prickle.

Poe turned the page.

Another sketch. And another. Her smiling. Her frowning. Her bending to pick something up. Some of them were too precise to be from memory.

“I stopped at fifteen,” Poe murmured. “There are more.”

She stared at the pages, her throat tight. “Has anyone else seen this?”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t told the psychologist yet.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice quiet. “For telling me.”

Poe cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“Look,” he said, voice lower now, “I’m worried about you.” He nodded toward the sketchbook still clutched in her hand. “This isn't normal, Rey. I think Kylo's developed… some kind of obsession with you. It’s not healthy.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

“I think we should talk to your supervisor,” he went on gently. “Maybe get him reassigned. You shouldn’t be the one handling him. It’s not safe, and—”

“No,” she said, sharper than she intended.

Poe blinked. “Rey—”

“I mean—” She scrambled to soften it. “I don’t think that’s necessary. He’s never hurt me. He’s just… intense. That’s all.”

Poe didn’t look convinced. “You’re not responsible for managing his emotions. That’s not your job. And if he’s fixating on you—”

“He’s not,” she cut in again, too fast.

Silence.

Rey swallowed. Her fingers tightened around the sketchbook. “Please. Don’t go to Kessler. Just… let me handle it.”

Poe studied her. “Rey… is there something going on between you two?”

She shook her head too quickly. “No. Of course not.”

But her pulse was pounding. Because if they took her off Kylo’s case—he might talk. Or worse. And somewhere beneath that fear, deeper still, was a quiet, dangerous truth she wasn’t ready to admit out loud: She didn’t want to be taken away from him. Not really. Not yet.

He looked at her for a long moment before sighing quietly and glancing down the hallway to make sure they were still alone.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I won’t go to Kessler. Not yet.”

Relief bloomed in Rey’s chest—too sharp to feel good.

“But,” Poe added, his voice firmer now, “if anything changes—if he says something, if he touches you, if he makes you feel unsafe—I want you to promise you’ll tell me. Immediately.”

She nodded quickly. “I will. I promise.”

He didn’t look fully convinced, but he let it go. “Alright.”

He turned and walked off down the corridor. Only when he disappeared around the corner did she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

 

__________

 

Kylo was quiet for a moment after she confronted him about the notebook—too quiet. His face didn’t move, but something in his eyes darkened. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and cold.

“That son of a bitch.”

“Kylo—”

“Is he watching me now? Following me? Pretending to care while digging through my stuff like some jealous, nosy little—”

“Stop,” Rey cut in, her voice firm. “He was worried. That’s all.”

He scoffed. “Worried. Sure. Always so eager to play the hero. To be the one you run to.”

“This isn’t about Poe,” she said. “You shouldn’t… You shouldn’t be drawing me”.

There was a beat of silence.

Then he laughed—a low, dry sound, dark with something unreadable. “You think that’s bad?” he muttered. “Those were the polite drawings, Rey.”

She blinked. “What?”

He stood up slowly and stepped around the bed, crouching beside it. He reached underneath and pulled out a second notebook—this one thick, worn at the edges, the cover stained and battered. He held it loosely in one hand, eyes on her face.

He flipped open the notebook, revealing page after page of intimate sketches — each one revealing her in explicit, provocative poses. She was drawn bent over, back arched high, tits spilling forward and her ass pushed out, exposing her pussy in sharp, unflinching detail. Other drawings showed her lying back, legs spread wide open, her hips lifted as if offering herself completely. The angles were daring, raw, and unmistakably obscene, each one a brutal display of vulnerability and possession that left Rey both unsettled and breathless.

She pulled back slightly, eyes wide. “What the fuck, Kylo? Why do you even have these?”

He smirked, eyes darkening with amusement. “Look at you—already blushing.”

He leaned in just enough for his breath to brush against her skin. “Don’t you like seeing yourself like this? Naked... vulnerable?”

“This is…this is sick. This isn’t normal.”

Kylo chuckled, a low, dark sound that held a trace of something almost cruel. “Sick? Maybe. But it’s not like we have the internet here, Rey.” He tapped the notebook lightly. “This is the closest thing I get to porn... the closest relief when you go back home.”

He glanced toward the door, then back at her with a sly grin. “Jeff from the second floor once managed to sneak me some magazines—full of naked women and all that. But honestly? I’d rather jerk off to a drawing of your pussy any day.”

Rey’s face burned hotter, a mix of shock and something else she couldn't name.

He smiled then, cold and sharp. “That’s it, pretty girl. Keep blushing. It suits you.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising despite the flush on her cheeks. “Someone could find these. What if someone sees them?”

He leaned back, expression darkening, jaw clenched. “If anyone ever gets their eyes on these drawings, they’ll lose more than just a hand.”

She swallowed hard. “Don’t be ridiculous”.

He met her gaze, unblinking. “I mean it, Rey. No one sees you like this but me.”

Rey’s eyes flickered with a mix of fear and reluctant trust as she absorbed his words. Somehow, despite the chill running down her spine, she believed him.

She let out a slow breath, the tension easing just a fraction. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But at least... you have to be more careful. We can’t afford to attract any attention. I can't—I can't risk this job, you know it.”

Kylo rolled his eyes, the familiar smirk returning to his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll just draw stick figures and trees in that fucking art therapy from now on.”

 

__________

 

In the days that followed, Rey noticed that Poe was watching her more closely.

It wasn’t obvious. Just small things. A glance that lingered too long. A soft check-in between tasks. An offer to walk with her to the other wing. Nothing anyone else would question — but Rey felt it. He was keeping an eye on her.

Kylo noticed too.

She could tell by the way he stared across the hallway when Poe was near, his jaw set, fingers twitching at his sides. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The tension in him was growing like a stormcloud, thick and silent and waiting.

On the third day, while she was sitting alone in the staff lunchroom, Poe slid into the seat across from her. He didn’t speak at first. Just picked at a bag of chips and waited until most of the other nurses had cleared out.

Then, quietly, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what I showed you. About Kylo.”

Rey froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.

Poe leaned in slightly. “Just because he hasn’t had an episode doesn’t mean he won’t. Sometimes... the longer someone goes without one, the worse it is when it finally hits.”

She set the fork down.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he added, lowering his voice even more. “But I am worried. He’s fixated on you, Rey. And you know his diagnosis. That kind of fixation—it doesn’t always stay harmless.”

Rey didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because even though she wanted to argue, wanted to tell Poe he was overreacting, a knot was already forming in her stomach.

Because a small part of her—some quiet, instinctive part—was afraid Poe might be right.

Chapter 4

Rey pushed open the heavy door of the asylum’s staff entrance, the familiar smell of antiseptic and worn carpet greeting her as usual.

Before she could hang her coat, her supervisor, Mr. Kessler’s, called her over.

“Morning, Rey.”

“Morning, sir. What’s up?”

Kessler hesitated a moment before speaking. “I need to ask a favor. Poe had an accident here at the facility. He’s going to be out for a few weeks, recovering in the hospital.”

Rey blinked, surprised. “Accident? What happened?”

He shook his head. “Details are a bit unclear, but it involved a fall down the stairs during a routine patient transfer. We think he slipped while helping one of the patients.”

She frowned again, concern knitting her brows. “Is he going to be okay?”

“For now, yes. But he’ll be out of commission for a while. In the meantime, I need you to take over some of his patients.”

Rey swallowed. “Of course. I can manage.”

Kessler gave a curt nod. “Thanks, Rey. I appreciate it.”

Rey barely had time to process the news before she was swept into the chaos of her new responsibilities. The morning shifted quickly, each patient demanding her attention with an urgency that left no room for distraction. She moved from room to room, administering medications, calming anxious patients, and handling paperwork stacked high on her desk.

By midday, her shoulders ached, and a dull headache was creeping in. Still, she pushed on, determined not to let anything fall through the cracks. But in the back of her mind, the worry about Poe—and what really happened on those stairs—gnawed at her.

When it was time to see Kylo and she entered his room with his medication and the blood pressure cuff, she could feel her nerves on edge.

But Kylo didn't cooperate.

As soon as she attached the blood pressure monitor, he grabbed her wrist.

"On your knees."

She hesitated for a split second—and then kneeled between his legs. He was already hard, thick, and she wrapped her hand around him first, then her mouth, sucking slowly, feeling the heat and weight of him on her tongue.

He groaned softly, his heavy hand resting on the back of her neck, guiding the rhythm.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmured, his eyes fixed on her. "So much better than any drug."

She moaned around his cock, feeling it throb against her tongue.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, threading his fingers into her hair. “So eager. So fucking obedient with your mouth full.”

He held her there, watching her struggle to take him deeper, guiding her head with gentle force.

“You like that, don’t you? You like choking on my cock. Pretty little thing, trained so well. Just how I like you.”

When he decided he'd had enough, he stopped her with a tug on her hair. She gasped, her lips swollen and wet.

"Get up here," he ordered, pointing to the table.

She obeyed. The cool wood made goosebumps crawl across her bare thighs as she sat down. He quickly got rid of her underwear, pushing her knees apart, exposing her soaked cunt to him.

“Look at this pussy,” he growled, eyes dark with hunger. “Dripping. You’re fucking soaked, sweetheart. All from sucking my cock?”

He dragged a finger through her folds, then slapped her pussy lightly, making her jolt.

“You know how fucking sweet you taste?” he said, crouching down between her thighs. “I could eat this cunt all fucking day.”

He licked her slowly, his broad tongue exploring every fold of her pussy with precision , his hands pinning her thighs open.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he groaned against her. “Clenching like she misses me. She miss my cock, baby?”

She whimpered, bucking against his mouth.

“I said, does your pussy miss me?”

“Y-Yes—”

“Say it. Say she misses my cock.”

“She—fuck—she misses your cock—!”

He chuckled, satisfied, and sucked her clit hard.

She moaned loudly, her entire body trembling, until she came with a choked sob, her hips bucking against his mouth.

For a moment, there was only the sound of her ragged breathing, the saliva mixed with arousal running down her thighs. She cleared her throat, trying to regain control.

But she couldn't hold back:

"Did you... hear anything about what happened with Poe?"

He straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.His expression flickered for just a moment — a flash of something like annoyance. “I heard whispers. People should be more careful around here. Especially that reckless kid.”

Rey swallowed, unsure whether to press further. “Do you think it was just an accident?”

Kylo smirked. “Sometimes accidents happen. Maybe Poe just needs to watch his step.”

His tone sent a chill through her. She nodded slowly.

Kylo stepped closer, brushing his knuckles down the inside of her thigh. Rey tensed, but he just looked up at her with that familiar, unreadable expression—half amused, half dangerous.

“You don’t need to fill that pretty little head with this shit,” he said, voice low and calm, almost coaxing. “You already worry about too many things.”

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a soft press of his fingers against her still-sensitive cunt. Her breath hitched.

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t waste your energy on him.”

He slid a finger into her, her walls clenching around him involuntarily, and he smiled.

“Poe’s gone for now,” he said. “So you won’t have to divide your attention anymore.”

His fingers moved deeper, rougher.

 “I don’t like sharing,” he whispered. “You know that, don’t you, baby?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She didn’t know what frightened her more—what he was saying, or how much her body wanted him.

“You’re mine while you’re here,” he continued, his mouth close to her ear now, his breath hot. “Every hour. Every hole. Every fucking thought in that head.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly and brought them to his mouth, sucking her taste from them.

“Now,” he said, stepping back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Why don't you come here and and beg me to fuck you properly?”

 

__________

 

When Rey got home that night—exhausted, her body still too sensitive—she dropped her bag on the couch and took off her shoes in the middle of the room, going straight to the small table where she had left her phone charging. She turned on the screen, unlocked it, and opened the conversation with Poe.

Hi, Poe. I just heard what happened. I hope you're okay. Let me know when the doctors say you can have visitors. I’ll come as soon as they do.

She sent it. The message was delivered, but no response came.

Probably still in isolation, she told herself. Or sedated. Or…

She closed her eyes, refusing to finish the thought.

Rey locked the phone and set it face down on the table, as if that would quiet the worry buzzing in her head. She moved on autopilot toward the kitchen, flicking on the light and filling the kettle.

When the tea was ready, she took her mug to bed and barely managed three sips before setting it on the nightstand. She didn’t bother undressing, didn’t pull back the covers. She curled up on top of them, eyes fluttering closed the moment her cheek met the pillow.

 

__________

 

The chessboard between them was worn, its corners chipped, pieces mismatched — probably cobbled together from two old sets. A plastic bishop stood in for a missing knight. The board smelled faintly of dust and disinfectant.

Rey frowned at it, arms crossed. “I still don’t get why the horse moves like that.”

Kylo, seated across from her in his usual spot by the window, smiled with the corner of his mouth. “It’s not a horse, baby girl. It’s a knight.”

Rey shot him a sharp look. “Don’t call me ‘baby girl.’ Someone might hear.”

Kylo’s smile deepened, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. “So?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Then I’m in trouble.”

He leaned back in his chair, the afternoon light casting soft shadows across his face. “Good. Maybe a little trouble is exactly what you need.”

Rey shook her head, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she reached forward, hesitating as she studied the board.

It was visitor’s day at the facility, a day meant for reunions and familiar faces — but as usual, no one came for him.

Well, except Rey. But she was already there, so that doesn't count.

She guessed the other staff probably thought she was just trying to be kind, that she sat with him to keep him company, to make sure he wasn’t completely alone on visitation day. But the truth was different.

She genuinely liked these moments—the quiet lessons, the way he explained the game with that rare patience.

She moved her pawn uncertainly, then glanced at him. “That’s legal, right?”

Kylo leaned forward, studying the board. “Technically. But it’s a bad move.”

“I’m learning.”

He made his move quickly, confidently. The pieces seemed to obey him. Rey stared at the board, realizing slowly that she was trapped.

“I can’t move anywhere.”

He tilted his head, eyes locking onto hers — a rare flicker of softness breaking through.

“Checkmate,” he said quietly.

Rey looked at the board again, frustrated, but not angry. She was starting to enjoy losing to him. Maybe because it meant she got to play again.

 

 __________

 

The library on the third floor was deserted, silent but for the soft creak of old wood and the faint buzz of the overhead lights. Rey barely had time to gasp before Kylo had her pressed against the tall bookshelf, one hand tangled in her hair, the other already pulling her skirt up.

When she reached into her pocket and handed him a condom, he took it wordlessly, as he always did. She watched him roll it on, the latex catching slightly against the thick length of him. He didn't complain. He never did.

The next moment, he was inside her, slamming her back against the shelf, making it shudder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping into his mouth as he thrust into her hard and fast.

“Fuck,” he growled against her ear. “Tight as ever. You fucking missed this, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer—couldn’t. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he drove into her, each thrust making the books behind her tremble.

But when his pace faltered—when his breathing grew uneven and the muscles in his back began to tighten—he suddenly pulled out.

“Turn around,” he ordered, voice thick and low.

Rey hesitated, chest heaving, but obeyed. She braced herself against the wall of shelves, presenting herself to him with her ass in the air. She tried to glance over her shoulder, to meet his eyes, but he grabbed her hips and held her firmly in place.

“No,” he said. “Stay just like that.”

For a moment, he pulled away, then slammed back inside her, deeper and faster, making her gasp. As he fucked her from behind, a sudden thought pierced her mind.

She reached back, her voice trembling as she asked, “The condom… it’s still on, right?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he said simply, voice steady as he continued thrusting.

But something about the way he said it, the casual certainty in his tone—it didn’t settle right with her.

She swallowed hard, heart pounding as she fought the creeping suspicion for the first time.

Then, with a guttural groan, Kylo came, his body tensing against hers.

As he collapsed softly behind her, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling lingering in the pit of her stomach.

And for the first time, she found herself wondering: Had he done something? Had... he taken it off?

“Wait,” she said. “Are you sure the condom was still on? The one you used?”

“Of course it was,” he growled. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I just… I need to know,” she whispered, searching his eyes. “I can’t—”

He silenced her with a finger pressed lightly to her lips.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Her eyes locked with his, but the question hung in the air heavier than before.

She wasn’t sure.

Rey wished she had a mother—or at least a friend—to talk to about this. Someone she could trust with questions that felt too tangled and too raw to voice aloud.

More than two decades on this earth, and the closest person in her life was a man in a mental institution — someone who couldn’t go to the movies with her on a quiet Saturday night, or help her repaint the peeling walls of her apartment, or taste the brownie recipe she had saved weeks ago and kept telling herself she’d try on Sunday — and then never did.

How much more pathetic could her life be?

Later, when she finally found a moment alone, she hesitated before reaching between her legs. Her fingers brushed over something sticky and slick. She paused, uncertainty twisting in her gut.

Was it just her own fluids? Or… somehow… was it Kylo’s cum, despite the condom?

The thought made her stomach clench.

She wiped at herself awkwardly, heart pounding from a growing knot of suspicion and unease.

 

__________

 

A week passed.

Rey tried to push the nagging unease aside, but the sudden waves of nausea made it impossible. She kept telling herself it was just stress, maybe something she ate, maybe exhaustion from the added workload since Poe’s accident.

But the doubt wouldn’t let go.

One afternoon, after nearly throwing up in the staff bathroom and barely being able to finish her tea, she grabbed her coat, her hands slightly shaking. She didn’t even think—she just moved. Her keys were in her hand before she realized where she was going.

The drive to the pharmacy felt longer than it should have. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. The radio was off. She couldn’t bear the sound of anything right now—not music, not words, not her own thoughts.

Please let this be nothing. Please. Just stress. Just hormones.

She grabbed the first pregnancy test she saw, then a second one—just in case—and hurried to the register.

One hour later, Rey sat on the edge of her bathtub, staring at the two pregnancy tests lined up on the sink.

Positive.

Both of them.

She didn’t cry. Not at first. Her body felt too numb for that—numb with disbelief, with fear.

She had just graduated. Just started her life. She couldn’t raise a baby. Not now.

In the future, yes. She wanted children someday. Wanted to give them what she never had—warmth, safety, a real home. A childhood untouched by neglect or silence. But not now.

And… definitely not with Kylo.

The thought made her stomach twist harder than the nausea ever had.

This couldn’t be real. It shouldn’t be real. She had been careful. Cautious. She had taken Plan B after both times they’d had sex without a condom. And all the other times—every single one—they had used protection. She had made sure of it. She had been the one to carry the condoms, she had handed them to him, watched him roll them on.

Unless…

Her breath caught.

Unless he had been taking them off, without her knowing. Unless he had found a way to come inside her despite everything she’d done to prevent it.

She covered her mouth with her hand and finally felt the tears sting her eyes.

It wasn’t just an accident. Something was wrong.

He never once brought up birth control. Never asked if she was on anything. Never expressed even a passing concern about pregnancy. Not like most people would. Not like anyone in their position would.

Almost like he didn’t care if it happened.

Almost like he wanted it to.

The bathroom felt too small, too tight. She stood on shaky legs and backed into the hallway, one hand braced against the wall as the reality crashed into her fully.

She had been so careful.

But Kylo hadn’t.

Because maybe… he never intended to be.

Rey leaned against the hallway wall, her palm resting lightly on her lower stomach.

There was nothing there yet. No change she could feel. No flutter, no swell. Just a cluster of multiplying cells.

She pressed her fingers harder into the softness of her belly, as if trying to feel the truth of it.

A child. His child.

The thought hit like a blow.

Of all the people in the world…

Of all the people she could have lost her virginity to—

Of all the men who could’ve gotten her pregnant—

It had to be him.

A patient.

Her patient.

A man locked behind the gates of an asylum for the past fourteen years.

“Brilliant choice, Rey,” she muttered bitterly, wiping at her cheeks with a shaking hand. “Fucking inspired.”

Her mind felt like a storm—thoughts crashing into each other, loud, chaotic, impossible to sort through. But beneath it all, she knew.

She was going to have this baby.

It wasn’t even a decision, not really. The thought came and settled in her chest like it had always been there, waiting for her to notice it.

Abortion wasn’t an option. Not for her. She didn’t know if it was belief, instinct, or just the fact that this thing inside her—this tiny, growing life—already felt real.

She wasn’t ready. She was barely starting her life. She was alone. And the baby daddy—

God. The baby daddy.

Her eyes burned again.

But still… still.

“I’m going to have you,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t know how… but I’m going to have you.”

And for the first time that day, she let herself cry. Not just in fear. Not just in anger. But in something else, too—something raw, soft, strange.

Something like love.

 

__________

 

The next morning, Rey found him in the library. He was standing by the tall window, half-shadowed by the light, a forgotten cigarette resting on the table behind him. When she entered, he turned slowly—like he’d been waiting for her.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt.

Kylo looked at her for a long, unreadable moment.

“You’re pregnant,” he said.

Her breath caught. She blinked, momentarily stunned—she had rehearsed how she would tell him a thousand times, imagined the moment being hers to control. But now, hearing the words from him, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath her.

She blinked, surprised. “You knew?”

“You always get your period around the fifteenth. I knew you were late.”

She stared at him, shocked. “You were… monitoring my period?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I had to know when it worked. When I finally bred you.”

The words hit her like a blow, and her hands clenched at her sides, a mix of anger and hurt twisting inside her. How could he decide something so monumental without her consent? The knowledge that he’d been tracking her body, using it to fulfill his own desire, made her feel exposed and powerless all at once.

Her voice was barely steady as she asked, “The condoms…?”

Kylo’s dark eyes locked onto hers, unflinching. “I took them off before coming,” he said quietly. “I made sure to fill your pussy with my cum every single time.”

Her stomach turned. The words were crude, delivered with the same brutal honesty that once thrilled her. Now they made her skin crawl.

She took a step back, chest tightening. Her mouth opened, but it took her a moment to speak. “You lied to me,” she said, the words bitter in her throat. “Lied every time we were together.”

He stepped closer, the heat of his presence pressing in on her.

“And your body took it so fucking well,” he growled, pressing his hips to hers. “You moaned louder when I came inside you. You clung to me like you needed it.”

Her hands clenched at her sides. “You didn’t have the right. This is my body we're talking about.”

“I did what you were too afraid to admit you wanted.”

Rey stared at him, disbelief flickering into rage. “I never wanted this,” she hissed. “I didn’t want to get pregnant—I’m too young. I have a life to live, plans, choices that are mine to make.”

Kylo’s mouth curled into a slow, satisfied smile. Not kind—triumphant.

“Well,” he said softly, “it’s too late for that now.”

Rey’s jaw tightened, her stomach lurching at the finality in his tone.

“No, it’s not,” she shot back. “I can still get an abortion.”

His smile vanished.

In one swift movement, he stepped forward—too fast—and Rey didn’t even have time to flinch before her back hit the wall behind her with a dull thud. His hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her wrist hard enough to still her.

“Say that again,” he said, voice dark and almost disbelieving. “Go on. Say it.”

His eyes flashed, burning with something furious, possessive, and terrifyingly intimate. “Do it,” he snarled. “I fucking dare you.”

For a moment, she feared he was going to beat her. His face was too close, his body pressed too hard against hers.

“You’re carrying my fucking baby. You think I’ll let you kill it just to spite me?”

Rey’s throat tightened. Her voice came quieter now, but still steady. “I think you lost the right to have a say the moment you took mine.”

For a moment, they just breathed — chest to chest, heartbeats pounding, rage and sorrow tangled between them like smoke.

Then she exhaled, a shaky, broken breath that seemed to collapse her entire body. Her shoulders sagged as the fire drained out of her, leaving something softer. Sadder. Exhausted.

“I’m not… I’m not going to abort it,” she whispered. Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know how to live with myself.”

Tears spilled over before she could stop them, hot and unwanted. She turned her face to the side, ashamed of the way her lip trembled.

Kylo’s grip on her wrist loosened. Slowly, he brought his hand to her face and gently turned it back toward him.

“Shhh,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, slow and deliberate. “Of course you won’t. You’re too good for that.”

He lowered his hand and placed it on her stomach.

“You’ll be such a good mom,” he said, voice low, “You were born for this.”

She gave a sharp, involuntary shake of her head, but he didn’t stop.

“You don’t even realize it,” he whispered. “But this is what you need.”

“You don’t know what I need.”

Kylo’s hand tightened slightly on her belly.

“I knew you wanted a family, even if you wouldn’t admit it. That’s why I’m giving that to you. To us.”

He glanced down at her still-flat belly, a soft, almost tender smile spreading across his face.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he whispered, his palm spreading possessively across her lower belly. “Cooking our little baby right here. Taking what I gave you, letting it grow inside you. Right inside this perfect little tummy.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. Dark. Unapologetic. Glowing with something unhinged and awestruck at once.

“You’ll always carry a part of me now,” he said, “Nothing can separate us anymore.”

Rey’s heart hammered painfully in her chest. The weight of his words settled over her like a shadow, and a shiver of fear traced her spine. But she said nothing—could say nothing.

Instead, she stood still, silent, letting the weight of his hand rest on her belly.

"I think it's time I reward you for having such a fucking fertile pussy, right, baby girl?"

His hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of her panties, fingers sliding wet and slick against her slick folds. Rey gasped, hips jerking forward, desperate for more. Her juices were slick and hot, flooding his fingers as he fucked her with slow, deep strokes.

“My beautiful, filthy cunt that’s carrying my baby. You’re so damn perfect like this—dripping just for me.”

He laughed darkly, finger fucking her harder as she clenched around him, her pussy spasming on his hand. A guttural cry tore from her throat as her orgasm slammed through her, body shaking, wetness soaking his fingers and dripping down her thigh.

Still holding her close, he pushed her against the corner table, warm skin pressing against the cold wood. His hands ripped her bra open, freeing her breasts. His mouth crashed down on a nipple, sucking hard, tongue swirling wet and demanding.

“I can’t wait for these tits to fill with milk,” he growled into her skin, “to feed our baby… and me”

He bit and sucked one hardened nipple, then switched, tongue flicking over the other, his mouth hot and sloppy. Rey’s hands tangled in his hair, breathless and dripping with want as his mouth worshiped her aching breasts.

He kissed along her neck, low and rough. “I’ll take care of you, baby. You won’t have to hide anything from me. I’ll worship your pussy every day, fill you with my love and my seed, watch our family grow—our little world, just us.”

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her close as he lined himself up, slick and hard. “You’re made for me, Rey. Made to carry my baby, made to take my cock deep inside your wet, needy cunt. I’ll fill you up, again and again, until you’re mine in every way.”

He sank into her slowly, slick and hot, the head of him parting her tight, swollen lips with deliberate, reverent pressure. Rey gasped, a sharp, breathy sound as he stretched her, filling her with everything he was.

Her walls clenched and fluttered around him, wet and welcoming, the slick heat inside her pulsing and dripping as he pressed deeper, inch by inch, until he was seated fully within her trembling core.

“You’re my good girl, Rey. My woman, my wife, my cunt to fuck whenever I want. And I’ll never let you go.”

He picked up the pace, hard and relentless now, hips slamming against hers with a fierce urgency that made her cry out—wetness flooding, spilling over him, making the pleasure sharp and wild.

His hips stuttered, muscles tightening, and then he spilled inside her with a hot, overwhelming flood—so much cum filling her tight cunt that she gasped, slick and trembling beneath him.

Kylo’s breath was ragged as he pressed his forehead against hers, voice low and raw. “I love you, baby girl. I fucking love you.”

She froze, heart pounding—not from passion, but fear. Deep down, a shadow stirred inside her—a chilling doubt about what he was capable of, what lengths he’d go to keep her bound to him. The love he promised felt heavy, almost like a cage.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

His breath was heavy, chest rising and falling against hers as he stayed pressed close, fingers tracing slow, possessive circles on her hip. Then, a dark, humorless laugh rumbled from deep in his throat.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to say it back,” he murmured, “You’re mine whether you want it or not.”

 

__________

 

That night, Rey returned to her apartment with her sex still aching from Kylo’s attentions. The soreness was a raw reminder of what they’d done—the possession, the force, the wild hunger with which he had taken her. Every step made the heat between her legs pulse again, as if her body refused to forget.

But stronger than the physical memory was the storm inside her mind.

She closed the apartment door behind her, leaning against it for a long moment, eyes staring blankly ahead. When her belly started to grow, what would she tell her supervisor? She couldn’t admit the father was Kylo. That would destroy everything.

And when the baby was born? She couldn’t bring a newborn to work—couldn’t rock it to sleep in the breakroom or heat bottles between shifts. Kylo probably couldn’t even meet the baby. Not when he couldn’t leave that place.

He couldn't sign a birth certificate.

He couldn’t walk the halls of a hospital with her.

He couldn’t hold their child in his arms without being shackled first.

She was going to have to do this alone.

The pregnancy. The birth. The sleepless nights. The fear, the responsibility, the love. It would all be hers.

It wasn’t the idea of family she’d once dreamed of, that was for certain.

She tried to distract herself by cleaning the kitchen, her hands moving mechanically over the countertops, wiping away crumbs and smudges without really seeing them.

Then her phone buzzed sharply against the wood table, startling her. She glanced down, heart catching when she saw the caller ID: Poe.

Without hesitating, she snatched the phone up and pressed it to her ear, voice trembling slightly.

“Poe? Thank God. I’ve been worried sick. Are you alright? Please tell me you’re okay.”

His voice was tense. Urgent. “Rey—I don’t have much time. They just let me use my phone. I had to call you.”

She straightened, heart suddenly racing. “What is it? What happened?”

“I need you to listen to me,” he said. “I’ve been digging into Kylo’s records—before the accident. And… I found out something you need to hear.”

He hesitated for a long second, then spoke, voice low and serious.

“Kylo wasn’t just admitted as a patient with a mental illness. He was convicted of murdering his own father.”

Rey stood frozen for a moment, the mug she’d been holding slipping slightly in her hand. Her breath hitched, and she blinked rapidly, trying to process the words.

“Wait… What—What are you even saying? Are you sure…?”

Poe’s tone hardened. “I’m telling you the truth, Ret. I dug through court records, official files. It’s real. Kylo was tried and found guilty. The court decided to send him there, to Chandrilla Asylum, instead of prison—claiming his mental state justified institutionalization.”

Rey’s hands trembled slightly as she held the phone, Poe’s voice low and urgent on the other end.

"He punched his father to death, Rey… And then he waited for the police to arrive at the front door of his house, without a shred of remorse. He wasn't even sixteen yet".

A chill settled over Rey.

“And… and there’s more”.

Rey swallowed hard, the fear creeping deeper. “What do you mean?”

Poe’s voice lowered. “It was Kylo who pushed me down the stairs. It wasn’t an accident. He tried to kill me.”

Her mind spun, the pieces falling into place in a terrifying mosaic.

“You have to get away from him, Rey,” Poe urged. “Switching patients isn’t enough. You need to leave Chandrilla altogether. That place… it’s not safe for you.”

“Leaving? But… this is my job. I can’t—I can’t just leave—”

“You’re not safe, Rey,” Poe repeats. “If he tried to murder me… if he murdered his own father… what do you think is stopping him from hurting you too?”

Rey’s breath caught as Poe’s words echoed in her mind. Her hands trembled, the mug slipping from her grasp to shatter quietly on the floor. The sound seemed to crack open the fragile shell she’d been hiding behind.

It wasn't just about her anymore.

If Kylo was capable of killing his own father... what kind of danger did that put their child in? What kind of father would he be? Would the baby be safe at all?

 “Please, Rey. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

The line went dead, and Rey was left staring at the phone, her mind spinning, the quiet of her apartment suddenly feeling suffocating.

Chapter 5

Rey didn’t dare step foot inside Chandrilla Asylum the next day. Instead, she sat at her small kitchen table, fingers trembling as she stared at the blank screen of her laptop.

Her heart pounded—not just with guilt or uncertainty, but fear. Fear that Kylo might tell her supervisor everything. The things they’d done.

She doubted they’d see her as a victim. And deep down, she never was. She wanted what happened as much as he did.

But worse than the shame, worse than losing her job, was the cold, crawling fear that Kylo might lash out in a moment of darkness. Not just at her. At their baby.

She couldn’t risk it.

After a long, heavy sigh, she began typing a brief resignation email to her supervisor. The words were carefully neutral—apologetic but vague. She explained that due to unforeseen personal circumstances, she would no longer be able to continue working at the asylum.

With a shaky hand, she hit “send,” the decision already weighing heavily on her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

She looked around her modest apartment, the walls feeling smaller, more confining than ever. Pulling a small envelope from a drawer, she counted the few bills and coins inside—the sum barely enough to cover rent for two months, let alone the mounting expenses ahead.

Prenatal care, doctor visits, medical tests—it all loomed like a mountain she didn’t know how to climb.

Rey’s chest tightened as reality settled in. She had to find another job. Fast. Her future—and the future of the tiny life growing inside her—depended on it.

But she'd find a way. She always did.

Poe had ended up helping more than Rey expected – he managed to pull some strings and found her an opening as a nursing assistant at a clinic two towns over. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a start.

In less than two weeks, Rey had packed her boxes, loaded them carefully into her car, and was driving toward her new job, her new apartment, her new life.

She tried to live her life as if Kylo had never existed.

She worked her shifts, unpacked her things, built a quiet routine in the small new apartment. Every morning, she pressed a hand to her stomach and whispered a promise to her unborn child—that they were safe now. That she would take care of them. That she would build a life far away from everything she left behind.

But it wasn’t that simple.

At night, sleep never came easily. And when it did, it came heavy, strange, and filled with dreams. Dreams where Kylo’s voice rasped against her ear, his breath hot on her neck, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. Dreams where she was naked beneath him, writhing, begging, consumed. She woke with a start every time—sweaty, aching, her thighs pressed together like they could somehow hold onto the memory of him a little longer.

Other times, it was different—darker. She dreamed of him raging, unhinged, his hands no longer caressing but hurting. Screaming at her. Grabbing her. Reaching for her belly with a look in his eyes that made her blood run cold.

Even when she touched herself, needing some small escape from the pressure of the day, from the fear of the future, from the growing weight of her own body—his face was always there behind her eyes. She tried to think of other things. Other people. But nothing worked.

It was only when she gave in—when she imagined Kylo pinning her down, fucking her slow and deep with that brutal focus of his—that her body unraveled. That she came, panting into her pillow, her palm wet and trembling. Every time, it left her shaken. Sore. Empty.

And then she’d roll to her side and wrap her arms around the small curve of her belly, whispering apologies to the baby.

Not because she regretted how the child had been made—but because she didn’t know how to carry both grief and desire at once.

Because no matter how far she drove, how many miles she put between herself and the past, her body still remembered his. Her heart still carried the mark of him.

And the baby—hers and his—grew inside her every day, a living reminder that Kylo Ren would never truly be gone.

 

__________

 

Weeks after sending her resignation, there was still no word. Not from the asylum. Not from Kylo.

She figured if he had told anyone—if he’d exposed what had happened between them—she would’ve known by now. She kept waiting for the fallout to hit—for someone to come knocking, for a lawyer to call, for her name to be dragged through the mud. She’d rehearsed explanations, denials, desperate justifications for what had happened behind closed doors in that room. But none of it came.

She checked the asylum’s website more than once, half-expecting to see her name attached to a scandal, a disciplinary notice, a quiet investigation. But her name had been scrubbed clean, as though she’d never worked there at all.

Which could only mean one thing: he hadn’t said anything.

She didn’t understand it. He had every reason to. He could ruin her with a single sentence. She’d crossed a line, broken every rule of her profession. And he knew it. Knew exactly how much power he held over her now.

So why hadn’t he used it?

Rey tried to come up with reasons—rational ones. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe she'd been a fleeting distraction to him, nothing worth the trouble of exposing. Or maybe, she thought grimly, he was biding his time, waiting to strike when she was most vulnerable.

But there was another possibility. One she couldn’t stop circling back to in the quiet hours of the night, curled up around the growing curve of her belly.

Maybe he was protecting her.

The thought made her stomach twist. Because if that was true—if Kylo had kept her secret, not out of indifference or calculation, but because on some level he cared—then she didn’t know what to do with that. With him.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t left her at all.

He was still inside her—in her skin, in her thoughts, in the ache between her legs, in the curve of her growing belly.

I love you, Rey.

He was the first person in her entire life who had ever said those words to her.

She didn’t want to owe him anything. Not kindness. Not gratitude. And definitely not whatever it was that still throbbed quietly inside her when she thought of him.

 

__________

 

Five moths later, Rey’s belly was unmistakable—round and firm beneath the loose dresses she wore to the clinic. The nausea was gone, replaced by an insatiable hunger and a bone-deep fatigue. But something new had come too: movement. Gentle flutters turning into kicks. A presence that grew more real with each passing day.

That night, she sat on her bed with her laptop balanced on her legs, a forgotten cup of tea on the nightstand. The cursor blinked on a baby clothing website—soft cotton onesies, tiny socks, knit hats with little ears.

Her fingers hovered over one image: a pale grey romper with bunny ears on the hood. Her chest tightened.

Now that she knew it was a boy, everything felt more tangible.

She opened a new tab—her list of baby names.

Levi. Austin. James. Caleb. Ethan.

Some crossed out. Some underlined.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the keyboard. Then stilled.

Which one would Kylo have liked?

The question rose uninvited, curling around her heart like smoke. She didn’t want to think about him.

But her mind wandered anyway—wondering if he’d mock the name Austin, if he’d smirk and say something crude about Ethan. Would he have preferred something ancient?

A sharp ding-dong shattered her thoughts.

Rey’s head snapped up.

The doorbell.

She blinked at the clock glowing on her nightstand—10:42 p.m.

She carefully closed the laptop and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The weight of her belly shifted with her. The baby gave a soft kick, like even he could feel the unease crawling up her spine.

Her bare feet padded silently across the floor.

The doorbell rang again.

She paused by the edge of the small hallway, heart hammering now. Her fingers brushed against the wall for balance, more out of instinct than need. The soft cotton of her dress clung to her skin, suddenly too thin, too exposed.

Another knock.

Cautiously, she stepped toward the door, standing on her toes to peek through the peephole.

What she saw made her stomach drop.

A man. Tall. Broad shoulders. Wearing a dark coat. The hood was up, casting most of his face in shadow. But she could just barely make out the shape of a scar along one side of his face.

Her blood turned to ice.

No. No, it couldn’t be.

She stepped back, breath caught in her throat.

Another knock. Slower this time. Almost...gentle.

“Rey.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

It’s him.

But how?

How could he be here? It didn’t make sense. Her mind raced, desperately searching for logic, for a loophole, for anything that could explain what she was seeing.

Kylo wasn’t supposed to leave Chandrilla. Ever. He couldn’t just walk out.

And even if—even if—somehow he had escaped… how had he found her?

A cold sweat prickled at the base of her spine.

She pressed her hand to her belly instinctively, protective.

Was she imagining this?

Had she finally cracked under the weight of hormones, fear, and guilt?

Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe she wanted it to be him.

Then—

“Rey,” he said again. “Open this fucking door.”

And gods help her—

She did.

Her fingers reached the lock before her brain could stop her. Her breath caught as the deadbolt clicked open.

She wasn’t thinking.

She couldn’t think.

Because he had that power over her.

Always had.

The handle turned. The door creaked.

There he was.

She should have screamed. Slammed the door. Run.

But instead, she stood still as stone, the air between them crackling with something electric.

He didn’t move. He just looked at her—at the swell of her stomach beneath her nightdress. His jaw clenched, his breath visibly shaking.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, closing the door behind him with a soft click, like he’d done it a hundred times before. As if this place were already his.

“Hello again, baby girl”.

Rey’s spine straightened instinctively. She backed up a step, bumping against the arm of the couch. Her heart pounded so loudly she could feel it in her throat.

“How—how did you find me?” she asked, her voice shaking. “You’re not supposed to be here. You—You can’t be here.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just looked at her, drinking her in. The sight of her. The curve of her belly. The raw disbelief on her face.

Then he took another step toward her, and another, until they were close enough that she could smell the tobacco to his clothes. Something in her wanted to bolt. Something deeper wanted to collapse into him.

“You can try to run away from me as much as you want,” he murmured, voice dangerously low, “but I’ll always find you.”

She didn’t move when he reached out—couldn’t. Her body locked up, breath stilled in her chest as his hand slid over her.

Fingertips brushed the swell of her breast, just enough to make her gasp, to send a spark shooting through her nerves. Then his hand moved lower, slow and reverent, settling on the curve of her stomach.

There was a pause.

His thumb swept gently over the fabric stretched tight over her belly. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, almost to himself. “Swollen. Flushed. Full of me. I knew you would be perfect.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Her throat was dry. Her legs weak.

But then his eyes flashed with a sudden, fierce anger. Without warning, his hand shot up, fingers curling around her neck.

Rey’s breath hitched, her heart pounding wildly—she thought he was going to kill her. Panic surged through her veins, every instinct screaming to fight or flee.

“You’ve been… a very bad girl, Rey”, he said, his hand still around her throat, “Disobeying me, running away from me... thinking you could hide. But I’m not something you can outrun, baby girl. I’m inside you. You can’t escape that.”

He tightened his hold just a fraction, enough to remind her of the power he held, then released her suddenly, stepping back.

“Now…” Rey watches with wide eyes as he undoes his belt fly, pulling his pants down. “It’s time for you to show me how sorry you are. So get on your knees and take my cock in that pretty mouth.”

She shakes her head. “Please—”

“I haven't had your pussy in five months, Rey. So I suggest you don't mess with what little patience I have left and get on your fucking knees."

He didn’t give her a chance to hesitate. His hand gripped the back of her head, pulling her down as her knees hit the floor. His cock was heavy and hard against her lips, aching for the taste only she could give.

“Open up, baby girl,” he growled. “I want you to take me deep. Suck me like you mean it.”

Her tongue flicked out, tracing the leaking tip before she closed her lips around him, warm and wet. He groaned low, his hips pushing forward with urgent need.

“That’s it,” he hissed, fingers tangling in her hair as she sucked him harder, slower, worshipping every inch.

The sound of her gagging slightly only fueled his hunger more, and he pressed deeper, his cock filling her mouth as she fought to take him all in, desperate to please him.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathed.

 Just before he exploded, he pulled back, his cock slick and leaking, glistening in the dim light.

“I want to come inside you, baby. Inside that pretty little pussy of yours,” he growled, eyes dark with need.

She swallowed hard, heart pounding as he stepped closer, his hands sliding down her sides before gripping her hips firmly. “Get on the sofa. Spread your legs wide for me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.

She hesitated—but only for a breath.

Because what would happen if she said no? Kylo was not a man who responded well to denial.

But more than that—more than fear—it was the way her body moved before she made the conscious decision. Like muscle memory. Like programming. As if somewhere deep in her mind, something had been rewired. Bent to him.

She stepped back slowly, her eyes locked to his, and sank down onto the edge of the sofa.

She opened her legs for him. A tremor moved through her as the soft fabric of her dress bunched up at her thighs, the cool air brushing the heat between her legs. Her body knew this. Craved this. Even now, after everything, he could still reduce her to instinct.

Her hands gripped the edge of the cushion as he loomed over her.

She hated how natural it felt. How easy it was to obey.

How deep he’d gotten into her. Not just her body—but her brain. Her will. Her choices.

She should’ve been screaming. Running. Locking the door and calling for help.

But instead—

She looked up at him, breath shallow, waiting for what came next.

He traced a finger slowly along her folds, making her shiver. “This is mine,” he said possessively, leaning down to kiss her deeply before sliding inside her warm, tight cunt.

The baby kicked sharply, and Rey gasped, clutching him as he whispered against her skin.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby girl. So full of me, so wet for me.”

His hands gripped her hips firmly as he sank deeper, every inch of her tight pussy clenching around him like she was made to fit him perfectly.

 “You want it all, don’t you? Want me buried inside you until you’re trembling, begging for more.”

Her body shuddered beneath him, and he groaned, his hips stuttering as he chased the edge. Then, softer, almost tender, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly, the raw need still burning in his eyes. “I fucking love you, Rey.”

Her nails raked down his back, her breath coming in ragged gasps as waves of pleasure crashed over her, the heat between them rising until it felt like nothing else existed but the two of them.

He groaned deep in his throat, his hips stuttering as the tension inside him snapped. With a rough, desperate thrust, he filled her tight, wet pussy with his hot, thick release.

She shuddered beneath him, trembling as he poured himself into her, every drop marking her, binding them closer. His breath was ragged against her skin as he stayed buried deep, holding her tight.

She swallowed hard, the words trembling on her lips. “I know what you did to your father,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He smirked darkly, not pulling out, his hips still buried deep inside her, their bodies slick and tangled on the soft sofa cushions. Supporting himself with his arms around her head, he looked down into her eyes.

“I know you do,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

His gaze sharpened. “Are you afraid of me?”

She hesitated, eyes searching his. After a long pause, she whispered honestly, “I… I don’t know.”

“You should,” he said softly. “I’m not a good man.”

His hands tightened slightly around her face, the weight of his words settling between them as his body remained pressed deep inside her.

She looked up at him, vulnerability flickering in her eyes. Her voice barely a whisper, she asked, “Do you—Do you want to hurt me?”

In her mind, a cold truth lingered—that maybe it wouldn’t take much. It wouldn’t be hard for him to hurt her, to kill her. To hurt their unborn baby.

He let out a low, dark laugh, the sound rumbling through the quiet room.

“I might want to spank that pretty little ass of yours for running away,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice. “Maybe punish you a little.”

He brushed a finger lightly over her hip, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“But hurt you… permanently? No.”

They lay in silence for a moment, the heavy quiet filled only by their breaths. Then he slowly slid out of her, his cock slipping free from her warm, trembling pussy.

He parted her folds gently, eyes dark with fascination as he watched his release drip and slide from her slickness.

Rey swallowed hard, gathering her courage. Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she asked, “How… how are you here? How did you get out of the asylum?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, the tension thick between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

“There was no reason for me to stay there,” he said slowly. “The diagnosis was forged.” He paused. “A doctor re-evaluated me. Said I was fine. Said I’d served my time.” His fingers traced lazy circles on her skin as he looked down at her. “So they let me go.”

"Forged?" Rey frowns, "But I gave you those meds every day—”

"Those pills?" he smiles, "They were made of sugar, baby."

“Your diagnosis…”

"A lie," he shrugs, "You see, my uncle was a lawyer when I was convicted. He thought that for a sixteen-year-old, being institutionalized was better than going to prison... I'm still not sure he was right, though."

The revelation hit her like a shifting fault line—quiet but devastating. The man inside her, the man who had fucked her with such hunger, who had whispered that he loved her… he had never been mentally ill.

The pills, the diagnosis, the file she’d read over and over in the clinic’s archive room—a lie.

He watched her carefully, as if he could read every flicker of emotion crossing her face

"I'm not crazy, Rey," he said. "I'm just... bad."

There was no apology in his tone.

Was this better or worse?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know at all.

Does that make me bad too, for wanting you anyway?

Rey’s voice was quiet, but the tremor in it was impossible to hide. “Then why did you kill your father?” she asked, searching his face. “If it wasn’t because of your mental issues… then why?”

Kylo's jaw tightened slightly. He didn’t answer right away. His fingers stopped moving against her skin.

Finally, he said, voice flat, “It wasn’t me who killed him.”

She stared at him, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t flinch.

“It was my mother.”

Rey’s breath caught in her throat.

“You… took the blame for her?”

He nodded once, slowly.

“She snapped,” he said. “I don’t even blame her. You don’t know what he did to us. What he did to her.”

Rey sat up slightly, eyes fixed on him. “Where is she now?”

A muscle jumped in Kylo’s jaw.

“Dead,” he said simply.

Rey swallowed hard, her eyes stinging, heart aching with a tangle of emotions she didn’t have the language for. Confusion. Sorrow. Fear, maybe—but not for herself.

She reached up slowly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him down into her. Her chest pressed against his, skin to skin, as she held him tight.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice thick with feeling.

He didn’t move at first. Didn’t speak. Just lay there, his weight heavy against her, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

“I’m not,” he murmured. “But I like that you are.”

And he let her hold him.

 

__________

 

Kylo slid into her life like water seeping through cracks—quiet, steady, impossible to stop. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it began, only that one day she looked around and realized she was no longer alone.

His clothes were in her closet. A toothbrush beside hers. Boots by the door. She never said he could move in—he never asked. He simply never left.

He started buying things for the baby. First a small stuffed nerf toy, then a blanket. Then shelves. Then a crib. Rey didn’t remember agreeing to any of it, but the receipt was on the table and he was showing her how the mobile worked.

And somehow, they were looking at apartment listings. Bigger places. With a second bedroom. With sunlight. With space.

It was domestic. It was absurd. It was terrifying.

Because it was normal.

Too normal. Like they were just any couple preparing for a child. Like he hadn’t once been locked behind reinforced doors. Like she hadn’t been the one who brought him his fake meds every morning at Chandrilla Asylum.

And still, Rey said nothing.

Because, for the first time, Rey had something that resembled a family.

One afternoon, they went to the supermarket. It was supposed to be quick—just a few things for the week.

They turned down the cleaning supplies aisle, and she paused, blinking at the rows of detergent. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. She felt it first in her chest—a tight, aching swell that caught her off guard.

Kylo was already reaching for something on the top shelf, his voice casual. “Do we like this one?” he asked, holding up a box of powdery blue soap before tossing it into the cart.

That was when it hit her.

She stood there, eyes glassy, heart squeezing as the moment unfurled around her—ordinary, domestic, normal.

They were that couple.

That couple she had watched months ago at the same grocery store: The man gently touching his wife’s back when she reached for a loaf of bread. The quiet safety of it all.

Now she was the one standing in the aisle while he reached for the detergent.

She wiped at her eyes quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But of course he did.

Kylo leaned in, quiet and close. “What is it?”

She shook her head, managing a small, tearful smile. “Nothing. Just… I just realized that I'm… I’m happy."

And in the middle of that cold, sterile aisle, surrounded by mundane things, Rey felt something bloom in her chest that scared her more than anything else had.

“Kylo,” she said softly.

And before she could second-guess it, before fear or logic or memory could step in and stop her, she said it.

“I love you.”

The words tumbled out too fast, too raw.

Kylo stared at her for a long moment, then said, simply, “Good. Took you long enough”

And then he kissed her—right there in the middle of the grocery store aisle, with shelves of bleach and dryer sheets behind them, the cold hum of fluorescent lights above, and the scent of clean linen in the air.

He pulled back slightly, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes darkened with hunger.

“Maybe we should get back home before I bend you over the cart and fuck you right here,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. "And… we don't want another murder conviction for me, do we? Because that's what would happen if anyone other than me saw that pretty pussy of yours."

Rey’s breath hitched, cheeks flushing as she bit her lip, the thrill of his words sending a fresh shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “let’s go.”

 

__________

 

Two years later

 

"That's a good woman you have there, you know," Luke murmurs, appearing beside Kylo in the kitchen doorway with a glass of beer in his hand, tilting his chin toward Rey.

Kylo followed his gaze.

Rey was kneeling on the colorful rubber mat they kept in the center of the room, her hair falling loosely around her face as she pushed a wooden car across the floor. Their toddler squealed in delight and pushed it back, only to launch himself into her waiting arms.

She caught him effortlessly, laughter bright in her voice, pressing kisses to his chubby cheeks between his delighted kicks and wiggles, careful not to let his little feet kick her bulging belly.

Because, yes. Kylo had gotten her pregnant again.

"I know," Kylo lifts his own beer to sip, "I'm a lucky bastard."

“Or she’s a very unlucky woman,” Luke replied dryly, though his tone was warm, fond even.

Kylo smiles behind the glass. She seems satisfied enough when she slides down my cock.

A beat passed in companionable silence as they both watched Rey gather the little boy into her lap, murmuring something to him, brushing his curls out of his eyes.

Then Luke said, almost casually, “About that asylum nurse’s case—”

Kylo didn’t look at him. “Yeah?”

“It’s closed,” Luke said. “No witnesses, no paper trail. Too many gaps. Lack of evidence.”

Kylo gave a slow nod, still watching his family on the floor. Rey was tickling Caleb’s belly now, and he was shrieking with laughter, chubby limbs flailing in every direction.

"Shame," he said mildly. "I was hoping for a trial."

Luke chuckled, dry and humorless, but then added, almost like an afterthought.

"Funny thing. Three different cases now. And every time I say it’s the last favor I do for you." He tipped the bottle back, finishing the last of it. "But here we are."

Kylo looked at him.

“Still,” he added, “I wouldn’t count on that luck next time. Try not to make me clean up a fourth.”

Kylo’s jaw flexed. He didn’t respond.

In the other room, Rey looked up and met his eyes, like she felt him watching. She smiled—gentle, tired, full of something far more terrifying than love.

She trusted him.

He raised his bottle slightly, nodding back to her.

They lived a comfortable life.

Not lavish, but full — richly quiet in the way some people only dream of. Kylo inherited a good amount from his mother, enough that he didn’t need to work in the traditional sense. He handled investments now, half of them recommended by people Luke trusted, the other half chosen through long nights hunched over spreadsheets and market analyses. He never told Rey how much he had tucked away — not because he was hiding it, but because she never asked. She didn’t care.

After Caleb was born, Rey started working part-time from home, something small and unglamorous — sorting digital patient records for a pediatric clinic. The pay was next to nothing, but she liked the rhythm of it, the quiet satisfaction of clicking files into place during nap time, the illusion of control in a world that once offered her none.

She liked earning something, even if she didn’t need it. His money was hers too. She knew that. He had made sure of it from the beginning.

“If you don’t mind, Uncle,” Kylo said after a pause, “I’d like to enjoy the rest of the evening with my wife.”

Luke snorted, setting his glass down on the counter with a soft clink. “I think I’ve had enough of your hospitality for one night anyway.”

He turned toward the door, then hesitated, glancing once more toward the woman on the couch.

“Tell Rey the ham she made was divine,” he said, lifting two fingers in farewell. “Bless her fairy hands.”

Kylo smirked. “I’ll tell her.”

Luke waved goodbye to Caleb and gave Rey a warm, if tired, smile before stepping out into the cool night.

Kylo watched the door close behind Luke, then turned back to the living room where Rey had just finished tucking Caleb’s blanket around him on the rug. Their son was still clinging to his toy, blinking slowly in that glassy, heavy-lidded way that meant sleep wasn’t far off.

Kylo tilted his head, lips curving.

“I think someone’s had a very long day,” he said.

Rey looked up, raising a brow. “You mean Luke?”

Kylo chuckled under his breath. “I meant Caleb.”

She smirked, reading the glint in his eyes immediately. “Mm. Is that right?”

He took a step closer, then crouched behind her where she sat on the couch, slipping his arms around her waist from behind. His hands found the soft swell of her stomach, warm and familiar beneath the cotton of her dress.

“You’ve been bending over all day,” he murmured near her ear, letting his fingers slide lower, stroking gently along the underside of her belly. “Chasing after him. Cooking. Looking so fucking good doing it.”

Rey sighed, leaning back against his chest. “And you’ve been watching me all day. Like a creep.”

“Like a man in love with his wife,” he corrected, lips brushing her jaw.

She smiled, eyes still on Caleb, who was now curled on his side, thumb near his mouth, nearly asleep.

Kylo's voice dropped to a hush. “I say we get him to bed before he starts snoring on the carpet. Then I want to draw you. So you can see how fucking delicious you look when you're pregnant with my baby.”

Rey swatted him lightly without turning. “You’re disgusting.”

“Married to you, aren’t I?” he said, nuzzling her neck.

She stood up, careful not to jostle the toddler now fully asleep. “Fine. I’ll carry him, you get the lights.”

Kylo brushed a kiss to her shoulder before stepping away to dim the lamps.

Then he followed behind her, watching the gentle sway of her hips, the way her hair caught the soft glow of the hallway light. He didn't think he could ever get used to the sight—Rey barefoot, heavy with his child again, their firstborn safe in her arms. It was obscene how much it moved him.

Once Caleb was tucked beneath his navy blankets, Rey brushed a kiss to his forehead. She turned to find Kylo watching from the doorway, leaning against the frame with arms crossed.

She stepped out and closed the door with a soft click.

They stood there a moment in the dim hallway, only inches apart.

“You meant it?” she asked softly.

He blinked. “Meant what?”

“That you want to draw me.”

Kylo’s mouth quirked at the corner. “Of course I meant it.”

They moved in silence to their bedroom. Kylo closed the door behind them with a quiet click and stood there for a moment, just watching her.

“Take your clothes off,” he said, voice low and steady.

Rey obeyed without a word.

First, she untied the ribbon at her waist, letting the dress slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor in a whisper of fabric, revealing the round swell of her belly, her full, sensitive breasts, nipples already tight with anticipation.

Last came her panties—she slid them down slowly, exposing her cunt, soft and slick, already glistening. Her body knew what he wanted before he even asked.

“Now sit,” he said, nodding to the edge of the bed. “And spread your legs for me.”

She moved carefully, settling down with her feet on the floor, thighs parted. The position bared her completely—her pussy wet and flushed, lips swollen and inviting.

Kylo dragged the chair from the corner and sat across from her, the sketchbook balanced on his lap.

As he flipped through it looking for a blank page, he saw glimpses of what he’d drawn over the years—soft charcoal portraits of quiet mornings and stolen nights: Rey asleep with Caleb nestled beside her, Rey laughing with her hair pinned up, Rey nude in the bathtub, knees hugged to her chest, eyes closed in peace.

There were rawer sketches too—her riding him, head thrown back in ecstasy, nails digging into his shoulders. Her bent over, wild-eyed, flushed and wrecked.

She was the only thing he ever wanted to draw. His sweet, darling wife.

He picked up the pencil, rested his elbow on his knee, and began to work. His eyes moved from her face to her breasts to the glistening pink between her legs.

Perfect. His perfect, perfect Rey.

“Hold your knees for me,” he said, not looking up.

Rey did as he asked, pulling her legs open a little wider with both hands.

“Just like that,” he murmured. “Now I can see everything.”

He started sketching again, the scratch of graphite soft and steady.

“You’re making me wet just staring,” she whispered, cheeks flushed.

He looked up then, gaze blazing.

“Good,” he said with a dark smile. “You’ll shine even more on the page.”

Kylo’s pencil slowed, then stopped. He stared at her for a beat, then closed the sketchbook and set it aside.

“Lie back,” he said, voice gravel low.

Rey let go of her knees and leaned back on her elbows.

He pulled his shirt off over his head, then unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate hands. His cock sprang free—hard, flushed, already leaking.

“God, look at you,” he muttered as he stepped between her legs. “You’re fucking glowing.”

She reached down, fingers parting her folds. “Come make me glow more.”

That snapped whatever restraint he had left.

He gripped her thighs and dragged her to the edge of the bed in one smooth, rough pull. He thrust into her hard, filling her in one deep stroke.

Kylo groaned through gritted teeth, head tipping back as her cunt clenched tight around him. Fuck. She was so warm—wet and pulsing and perfect, like her body had been made to take him.

He held there, buried to the hilt, breathing hard through his nose as he tried not to come too fast. But it was impossible to stay calm when she looked like that—sprawled out beneath him, tits heaving, lips parted, pupils blown wide with lust.

He looked down between them. Her belly rose and fell with each breath, round and heavy with his child. And her pussy—fuck—her pussy gripped him like it missed him. Like it had been waiting all day for this.

He pulled back slowly, watching his cock glide out of her, slick and glistening, before driving it back in with a brutal snap of his hips.

Rey gasped, nails digging into the sheets.

“I’m gonna keep you pregnant, baby. Keep filling that pussy until you can’t take anymore.”

Rey moaned loudly at his words, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips bucked up to meet him.

“That what you want?” he growled. “To stay full of me? Knocked up and leaking my cum every fucking day?”

She nodded frantically, one hand slipping to her clit again, the other grasping at the headboard for leverage. “Kylo, I’m—oh my god—”

“That’s it,” he snarled, pounding into her with everything he had. “Come for me, baby girl. Come with my cock deep in this perfect, pregnant pussy.”

Rey broke apart with a strangled cry, her orgasm ripping through her like a wave. Her pussy fluttered violently around him, milking him, squeezing him into his own release.

He came with a deep, guttural moan, burying himself to the hilt as he filled her—thick, hot spurts of cum pumping deep inside. His hips jerked once, twice, then stilled, every muscle in his body tight with the aftershock.

They stayed like that for a long moment—his forehead pressed to hers, their breaths tangled, sweat cooling between them.

Finally, Kylo eased back, watching as his softening cock slipped free and his cum began to leak from her swollen cunt.

He groaned. “Look at that. Fucking masterpiece.”

Rey laughed breathlessly, eyes still glazed. “You gonna draw that too?”

He smirked, brushing a thumb across her inner thigh. Then he traced slow, reverent circles over her swollen belly, fingertips warm against the soft curve of her skin.

“What do you think we’re having this time?” he murmured.

Rey smiled, fingers threading through his hair. "I'm hoping for a girl," Rey admitted, "But I'll be happy with whatever comes. What about you?"

"Boy, girl... who cares?" He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her belly, then slid lower, planting gentle kisses just above her pussy. "You're going to keep giving me more of them anyway."

She laughed, a bright, teasing sound. “Kylo! Taking the condoms the first time was sneaky enough. But swapping my pills for placebo? That was next-level. What’s your next move when I get the IUD?”

He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “Guess you’ll have to wait to figure it out.”

Notes:

Yes... what Luke said about the cases is exactly what you're thinking... RIP Han 🪦 RIP Leia 🪦 RIP Poe 🪦
Just a reminder: Never – and I mean NEVER – trust what Kylo says.

Thank you all for following the story so far.
If you like obsessive villains and dark HEAs, make sure to check out my other (and future) stories.