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Prison Food	By : cuddlesome Category: Star Wars (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 6536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars these two would be confirmed canon thrice over by now. However, I do not own Star Wars or its characters; Disney and Lucasfilm do. I make no money with this piece of work.

Chapter List
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Kylo Ren glances at many days’ worth of rations on the floor. One of the bowls had been kicked over, leaving the gray, sludgy contents splattered across the floor, but the others remained untouched. He wonders whether the scavenger upended the bowl herself or an exasperated stormtrooper had.
He pulls his hood down as he turns to look at where she stands in one corner like a trapped animal. “You have not been eating.”
“I’ll start eating,” she says, “when my food stops being drugged.”
The scavenger had been moved from the interrogation room to a cell over the course of the week she spent captured by the First Order. Kylo knew, somehow, that she would detect the drugs meant to make her more pliant to his mind reading, but he expected someone already on the brink of starvation to get desperate at some point. Clearly he had underestimated her willpower.
She was already far too scrawny to begin with. Now she is just painful to look at; all sharp angles, only bulging where her bones stand out. Her hands, already balled into fists, and her stance both make it clear she what expects this encounter to escalate to. The idea of her, half-starved and unarmed, thinking she is even capable of holding her own in a fight with him would be funny if it were not so sad.
“Relax, scavenger,” he says, putting some suggestion of the Force behind it.
For a moment, she does, fists uncurling and a dazed expression coming over her face, before she shakes her head, grits her teeth, and faces him with even more determination. Her own erratic grasp on the Force rears up in retaliation against him. His fingers twitch at the clumsy but powerful barrage and not for the first time he is glad for his mask disguising his expression.
The scavenger attempts to compel him back with a Force-fueled command of her own. “You will stay away from me.”
He starts to speak, only to be interrupted by a low growl. The scavenger wraps an arm around her middle and Kylo is reminded of his reason for being lowered to prison duty.
He could have her gavaged in the medical wing. He could have her restrained as he did when interrogating prisoners and feed her with a funnel. There are a hundred other methods he could have used to get her to eat. And yet he chooses perhaps the most impulsive and illogical of them all.
He picks up a bowl of rations himself. The sludge is full of so many preservatives he has no concerns about whether it is in the same state it was when it arrived in the room, minus the heated up nature to make it slightly more appetizing. The single spoon amongst the bowls he leaves alone, turning to approach the scavenger. She backs away from him, shaking her head all the while.
“I do not want to harm you, but I will do what I must,” he warns.
“I have no such misgivings about you.”
Kylo crowds her in the corner of the cell until she lashes out at him. The kidney punch stings, but her attempt to kick him in the groin does not connect after he lifts a knee to impede her attack. All of her movements have been made halting and sluggish by her starvation and doubtless an addition of exhaustion. Even the blows he does not bother blocking have little effect. Every pound of her fist against him is a hailstone against a castle.
The bowl in his hand has its contents slosh over the sides more than once, spattering his robes with gray and serving to thoroughly irritate him. He tosses it aside at some point, reasoning he can simply get one of the others later. It is only the fact that he is winning their little scuffle that keeps his temper in check. Had that not been the case, the scavenger might very well be in the state of most prisoners Kylo interacts with: bruised, bleeding, and more often than not missing a limb.
Simply standing there and taking it would belie his pride. Ever so slowly but ever so surely, he starts to wrestle her to the ground, pinning each flailing limb with the Force as he goes. What little weight she has went into lean muscle, strength she uses to fend him off. For a time, anyway. Eventually, inevitably, his greater size and pain tolerance gets the better of her. He cannot help the surge of satisfaction that comes with pinning her to the floor, careful not to put too much of his weight on top of her. Putting his knees on either side of her and hovering over her with a bow at the waist, he stares down at her mostly Force frozen body. Pathetic wriggles are all that are left to show the fight in her.
Her struggles cease when he reaches out to cup the side of her face. For a moment she looks like a rabbit faced with a stoat, wide-eyed and afraid as she stares at his eyeshade. He lowers his head to be closer to her face as he slides his thumb over her lips, imagining how the texture would feel without the barrier of his glove.
Then the moment is over. Her face turns from scared to angry in a millisecond. She turns to bite him, rewarded only with a mouthful of Kylo’s glove and an unimpressed tilt of his helm. He forces his thumb between her back teeth, prising her mouth part of the way open. The scavenger bites down harder. He feels an incisor give him a slight pinch around his knuckle. A small irritant, but nothing more.
Gesturing behind him using his free hand, Kylo lifts up one of the bowls into midair with the Force and guides it to his hand. Dividing his attention between keeping the scavenger down and doing that gave her a little bit more freedom. Emphasis on “a little bit” since she only managed to paw weakly at one of his thighs instead of her presumed goal of grabbing at his wrist. Kylo’s throat gets dry at that, but he shakes his head with a growl and resolves to ignore the touch.
With little pomp or ceremony, he pours the rations in the bowl into her wedged-open mouth. She gags when it hits the back of her throat. The angle she is at combined with him putting down the bowl to massage her throat pushes the sludge down, though she heaves all the way.
He should insist she is fed something richer, something that does not look like it got scraped off of a trooper’s boots, but he knows it will only make her ill. An entire life of being fed cheap synthetic food will not let her body off easy. Perhaps he can ease her into a better diet after a time.
Kylo gives her a moment to recover from the first draughts before lifting the bowl back up again to give her more. The pace at which he pours the thick, bland substance into her mouth causes her to have to swallow at a quick rate; Kylo takes satisfaction in every gulp. She makes little noises of distress, too, coughs and whimpers both.
“Shhh,” he soothes, his shushing comes out in a gravelly rasp through his voice scrambler. “You need to eat, scavenger. Stop fighting me.”
Her fingers claw at his thigh. He can feel humiliation coming off of her formless thoughts in waves, making him feel equal parts triumphant and ashamed. Before he can give more thought to the latter sensation, he pulls one of the other bowls to his hand and feeds her more of the rations.
During one of the breathers he gives her, she repeatedly swallows and appears to roll her tongue around her mouth in an attempt to dispel the taste of the rations.
Kylo shakes his head and says, “It would taste better if you had eaten it warm.” Not by much, but somewhat.
The scavenger scowls at him, clearly not thinking much of the prisoner rations, warm or cold.
Absurdly, he is reminded of his—of Ben Solo’s mother. Ben had been a picky child, making her job cut out for her at every turn. Still, she managed to coerce him to choke down whatever it was she wanted him to eat with her unique brand of firm, no-nonsense persuasion. Upon reflection, Kylo has to wonder whether or not she had ever used the Force, subconsciously or not, over something as trivial as getting Ben to get proper nutrition. She had certainly never wrestled him to the floor, though.
Something inside of Kylo aches with even passing thoughts of Ben’s childhood, and he banishes those thoughts from his mind in favor of returning to feeding the scavenger. He takes his hand away from her throat, confident that she will start swallowing on her own from now on, and moves it farther down to rest on her stomach. Even with gravity pressing down on it, there is a slight lump. Given the tininess of her starved stomach, she is close to filled up by Kylo’s estimation. He is careful not to put any pressure on it, wary of making her vomit after spending so much time getting her to eat.
As he pours the last dregs of the second portion out, a bit dribbles out of the corner of her mouth, yet another testament to her difficulty swallowing so much at once. Without much thought, he pulls his thumb out of her mouth to wipe away the drip with the back of his hand.
The scavenger’s eyes widen, then narrow suspiciously. She stares searchingly at his mask. He is unsure what it is she is looking for, even with a calculating graze against her mind. Again, he has to remind himself to focus.
Kylo straightens up, shifting his knees on either side of her so they do not clamp down as much. “Now, are you going to eat the rest yourself once I leave or should I feed all of them to you this way?”
“I can’t possibly eat all of that,” she rebukes, then adds, “but I’ll eat one more if you do.”
Point-blank, he scoffs and tells her no. He has his far more appetizing and undrugged dinner waiting for him back in his rooms, for one thing, and for another, far more prominently, he does not dare make himself vulnerable to her again.
Her head lolls suddenly, then is dragged back up with some effort. “Fine, I’ll eat two bowls if you eat just one.”
He starts to pull another bowl to him with the Force as he sets the emptied one beside the first. “You are in no position to be bargaining.”
“Is it really so wrong,” she says, voice slurring, “that I want to see your face again?”
Kylo drops the bowl out of the air just before it reaches his hand, spattering it on her right hip and one of his knees. The cold slop seeps through the leg of his pants. He does not notice, too wrapped up in scrutinizing her expression. The scavenger stares back at him, chin lifted, but eyes becoming muzzy. She blinks, head bobbing down, then blinks again.
The all-too-familiar haze of anger starts to gather in the back of his mind. “You should know better than to lie to me, scavenger.”
One of his hands comes to rest next to her head, fingers outstretched but not quite touching. In his haste to check her thoughts, his grasp on the rest of her shatters, made apparent by a full-body shudder. Oddly, she does not take advantage of her new freedom right away. She does not fight against his mind probe, either. Where the scavenger had been all fight before, she is strangely docile now. There is a new fuzziness around the edges of her thoughts that confuses him until he realizes the cause and feels quite stupid. It is, of course, the drugs. The drugs in her food that she spent so long avoiding. He had given her two portions meant to be ingested over the course of two days both at once and it took immediate effect.
Kylo's anger dissipates as quickly as it had come and he is left to examine her thoughts concerning him. There is plenty to see: no small amount of hatred, suspicion, and a healthy dose of fear. But beneath it all is a thread of interest.
The scavenger is… genuinely interested in him.
In spite of himself, warmth blooms in the pit of his stomach. He backs out of her mind, so to speak, and looks down at her motionless body.
She has become completely unconscious at this point, not the preferable state for something as intimate as mind invasion. Kylo’s methods could involve sinking his figurative claws in and ripping information out, but that often meant leaving the mind on the receiving end in pieces. Even malleable like this, she would surely suffer ill effects if he forcibly extracted the information about Luke Skywalker. He could not do that if he wished to train her, and he does; so, so badly. He needs her trust, needs her to have her mind at least somewhat open to him.
Kylo shifts his kneeling position to one side of the scavenger and lifts her up in his arms, cradling her skinny form to his chest. So tiny. He could crush her with a mere thought. He lays her down on the bed and, after a moment spent watching her caved in chest rise and fall, covers her up with the thin blanket that had been kicked to the floor.
Though he cannot bring himself to dig deeply enough for the information the First Order and the Supreme Leader want, he permits himself a cursory look through the fog of her drug-induced sleep to look for something very important to him. He tugs it gently from her mind.
Rey. Her name is Rey. He does not speak it aloud for fear of his helmet ruining the sound.
Kylo leaves the remaining couple bowls of rations in the room, though he almost hopes Rey will continue to fast. It will give him a reason to visit and feed her again.
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Prison Food