BY : paint-it-red
Category: Star Wars (All) > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1783
Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, or any characters associated with it. I’m not making any money from this fic.

“You sent for me?”

I stood at attention, in the doorway to a sparse office. My face was flush with anticipation and nervousness; I had been summoned by the Supreme Leader before, but not since he had acquired his new title and never with such urgency. Energy seethed from him; angry, unpredictable. He had always been this way, as far as I knew, but I had never encountered him personally in such a state; certainly not by myself. 

He had been facing away from me up to this point, and when he turned toward me, he was utterly unmasked. Both curious and a bit surprised, I could not make out much from beneath the shadow cast by his hood. I’d never seen his face with my eyes before, and although I was not much closer now, the harsh outline of a regal nose and a faint smear of colour denoting lips stood out to me. The lips were contorted into some expression I could not identify; his eyes completely obscured. 

“I need a mask.” Curt and deliberately, impolite.

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded in agreement. “Like the old model?” The entire remaining crew of Lord Ren’s personal transport ship was well aware of what had happened to his old mask by now, and most of us had been cautiously avoiding him since, lest one of us suffer a similar fate. Times were chaotic for the First Order as of late; the overall mood seemed to suit our former Commander perfectly.

“No. Nothing like the old one.” His voice was flat, but harsh; crackling frustration emanated from his imposing form.

My heart had seemed to rise into my throat since I had first entered the room; the tension inside it was oppressive. When I opened my mouth to ask what Lord Ren wanted in his new mask, I choked. Whether on the air or on my own words I coudn’t be sure, but that didn’t matter– my lack of response seemed to provoke further frustration; and suddenly, I felt something whizz past my head. I dared to glance behind me, where I saw a shattered water pitcher. Ren had not moved.

Somehow– illogically– the sight of the broken glass scattered on the floor prompted my own body to begin moving again. I drew in a breath, the first for what had seemed like an eternity, and broke the thick silence.

“What would you like, then, Sir?” I forced myself to shed my meekness; to stand tall and project my voice. If I could seem assertive and professional, perhaps I would incur less wrath. I added, “I would never presume to know what you want.”

Aware that Lord Ren possessed great mastery of the Force, I did my best to push my own intrusive thoughts of his last mask out of my head. It had been, maybe, nearly as significant to me as to him. Not because of any special connection to the former Commander– I had no cause to be honoured in such a way. No, the mask was special to me because of its craftsmanship. Ren had designed it, but it had been my own hands– under the guidance of those of my former Master– that had assembled the pieces.

My attempts to quell Lord Ren’s anger by keeping my thoughts on his previous mask away from him had clearly both failed and backfired. He lifted his head and I saw dark eyes shine fiercely as he barked at me, “Of course you woudn’t!”

He took a step toward me, piercing me with his newly-revealed eyes, as his face came into better view. I stared at him. Suddenly, as if not of my own accord, memories flooded my conscious mind. First my own hands, heating metal and manipulating it; bending it. Then my elderly Master, since deceased and a frequent subject of my thoughts as of late, standing over me. She was inspecting my work; guiding me as I laid intricate layers of electronics between more layers of pressed metal and other composites. Then my Master again, this time warning me as best she knew how about the consequences we would face if our work appeared sub-par.

I could hear her in my mind as if she were beside me, and I could not censor her– “He is… unstable,” she had said. “His temper is ferocious; his desires pointed, but fleeting. Lord Vader did not tolerate mistakes, but Lord Ren is not simply intolerant. He is merciless.” Her face, grave and unwavering, lingered in my mind. I wished it wouldn’t.

I snapped back to the present, where some emotion had washed over Ren’s face for a fraction of a second, coming as quickly as it went. I could not identify it. With the trajectory of my thoughts seemingly under my own control once again, I pushed visions of my old teacher out of my mind and studied what I could of our new Surpreme Leader’s face. I had never seen it before; my master had, of course, but she had already taken measurements and written down dimensions by the time my part of the work had started. In spite of my intimacy with the numbers we had used in the previous mask’s construction, I had never really seen Kylo Ren’s face with my own eyes.

Stumbling over my own fake assertiveness, I stammered, “I- I can make you anything you wish, Sir.” He made me nervous; his appearance was one of emotionlessness, but I could tell that he harboured an extreme and convoluted frustration within him. I swallowed hard at the persistent lump in my throat, begging internally for him to direct me; dismiss me; tell me what to do– anything.

He must have sensed this need, as he stood fast in his silence, still unmoving.

Moments ticked by noiselessly, when finally– I thought, graciously– he spoke without responding to my runaway train of thought.

“It must be different. Simple. Not ornate. My identity is now widely known, but the person I was is dead. The past is dead. Your new work should reflect this.” He still sounded very sharp and curt; still bordered on outright rude. Some of his words he nearly seemed to spit out with hot disdain; it was in this manner I came to be aware of his closer proximity to me.

“Excellent, Sir.” I breathed deeply and looked up, focusing my eyes to study Ren’s face in better detail. My fear gave way, momentarily, to an acknowledgement my stupid brain could once again not keep to itself– that it would be a pleasure to craft a mask to adorn such a handsome face. Lord Kylo Ren looked every bit the part of the king or emperor he hoped to play; right down to the thick, black mane of hair that framed his face as it spilled out from under his hood.

He stayed quiet. Had my admiration of his features caught him off-guard? Or, more likely, had it made him angry? I swallowed again at my throat’s lump; it was going nowhere.

“When can you have it ready?” He spoke more quietly now that he was closer to me, but his tone was no less harsh. I thanked the universe around me that he was continuing, outwardly at least, to ignore my thoughts.

“I can have it ready within a week’s time, but I will have to take fresh measurements. My Master– the craftswoman who oversaw the construction of your last mask– has died recently. As per protocol, I cannot access her files.” I tried hard to keep my words measured and neutral, but I knew they came too fast. I only registered how close I would have to get to Ren’s face to measure it as I spoke, and my heart skipped a beat. Fear– a new and terrible kind– accompanied by another feeling I could not decipher welled up in my stomach. I focused on continuing to breathe.

My Surpreme Leader had taken a step back and I noticed the glare of his eyes soften– although more out of surprise than kindness, I was certain.

“I- very well.” He wanted his mask, but not for me to measure the contours of his face. I couldn’t blame him, given that my thoughts had just run the gamut; from his rumoured mental instability to his regal attractiveness. I had embarrassed us– or myself at least– thoroughly, barely having spoken any words.

I gestured for him to be seated in a large, plush, office-style chair positioned at a desk at the far side of the room. I touched a small bag strapped to my side; it contained a small set of tools and a datapad for recording information.

Wordlessly, he turned to sit, and I followed him, equally silent. He sat, and I removed my pack, placed it on the desk, and opened it.

Inside was a tiny set of calipers and an assortment of small rulers, measuring tapes, and protractors. All were strapped neatly in order atop the datapad. Most of my work was on custom gloves, boots, weapons, and other specialty items for First Order officers. Masks were rarely requested; in fact, the only one I had ever participated in making before had been Lord Ren’s first. I hoped that my apprehensiveness at working in the absence of my old master did not show… although I was certain it did.

Having opened my bag, I bent down so as to be level with Ren’s face. I could barely see him under the shadow cast by his hood, and thinking for a moment only of my work, I reached forward and pulled the garment back over his head.

As a thick wash of raven hair came loose over the sides of his face, his expression flashed from neutral to angry. An enoromus, gloved hand completely enveloped my wrist and a portion of my forearm. Fear coursed through me, suddenly and icily, as two words erupted from his throat in a harsh growl– “You ask.”

He squeezed me, briefly but extremely hard, and if my hand had not been attached to my arm I have no doubt he would have thrown it straight to the floor. I had been stupid.

“I- I’m sorry, Sir.” My mouth was dry, and my wrist now throbbed. I wanted very much to leave at that moment, or to at least have my Master’s assistance. But she was gone, unreachable; instead I stood alone mere inches away from a clearly angry and very volatile Kylo Ren. Another deep breath. “May I begin now, Sir?”

He no longer appeared so angry; his face went back to being unreadable to me. 

“Yes.” He drew back his shoulders to sit up straight, and I bent slightly to come level with his visage. “Go to your work.”

Another deep breath, and I gingerly took the hair on each side of his face and tucked it securely behind his ears with my thumbs and forefingers. It was thick, clean, and fairly tangled. My hands shook now, and the left one trembled and brushed against his cheek ever-so-slightly as I brought it back toward me. I wished it would be still.

I turned away from Ren and toward my bag, ostensibly to look for my first tool, but really it was more to steady myself. In the very few minutes I had spent alone with this man, it felt as though I had been on an emotional roller-coaster ride. Was he doing this to me on purpose, or was his own chaotic energy simply catching?

I thought, involuntarily, about how warm his skin had felt against my own icy, nervous fingers when they had brushed past his face. Suddenly, I could feel his eyes sharply; virtually stabbing me through my back. Shaking hands be damned, I turned to face him again and forced an expression of neutrality onto my face as I leaned back down. In my hand I held a small, malleable ruler; I placed it at the base of his earlobe.

I mumbled numbers to myself as I counted the milimetres down to where his noble jawline morphed into the fine curvature of his chin. My hands were still trembling; not so much that I could not perform my task, but enough that–

“Are you incapable of your work?”

Finger still resting fearfully on his jaw and my face just mere inches from his, the sudden question made me gasp, and I nearly stumbled. I had barely started this, and I was already upsetting him.

“No, I’m just–”

“Are you frightened of me?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Why was he asking questions he already knew the answers to? “Not afraid,” I lied pointlessly, “I- I just need to get this right for you.” That, at least, was truthful.

His fresh buzz of energy seemed to settle yet again; it could not make up its mind. I took the tiny ruler away from his face and set it down; as I did, I allowed the finger of my other hand to trace the contour of his jaw. I thought first of the locking mechanism on his previous helmet; of tiny clasps, and holes for air and sweat. Then, once again, of how very warm his skin felt to me, and without my permission, what it might feel like to touch him with the whole of my hand.

Our faces were still close to one another, and before I could process what was happening, I felt warmth cover my palm. Into my vision’s focus came the sight of my own hand pressed firmly against the cheek of Kylo Ren. My fingers looked as small and cold as they felt sitting there, but in spite of that, an electric surge of energy coursed through me at the contact.

The hair I had tucked behind one of his ears had come free, and my available hand rose. Perhaps it was foolish, but it was seemingly now not under my full guidance. I did not move quite as gingerly this time as I had before, and to my own surprise, I gathered the beautiful black locks through my fingers and ran them through, before tucking it away for a second time.

I looked at his dark, still indecipherable eyes, and my trembling lips mumbled a word; involuntary and nearly inaudible, but utterly truthful nonetheless–


I broke both my gaze and my contact with Ren briefly to reach for my calipers, when the same pressure returned to my wrist. It hurt, but not as badly this time. My body stopped moving, except for my eyes, which shifted back to his face. What the hell was going on?

At once, the hand not enveloped by his grip was back on the side of his face. I could not decide if I thought his eyes were angry, demanding, pleading… or all three, or even none of those.

“Say that again. Louder.”

“Ex… exquisite.”


“Exquisite!” I yelled out, and my voice echoed harshly off of the metal walls surrounding us.

Still so close to him, and so confused; conflicted, frightened, and now aroused too… I wanted to cry, but tears would not come. “Your face…” I said, “It’s exquisite. It’s beautiful. I- I…” I squeezed my eyes shut, because I could not turn my head to look away. “I just want to please you with my craftsmanship, Sir. Please allow me.” Again, I was speaking too quickly; I opened my eyes. For the first time, I caught from Ren the slightest hint of a smile; really, it was more likely a smirk.

“You’d like to please me?” There was a lilt in his voice, or as close to one as could come from it. He was making fun of me now; it was my own fault for betraying so many of my own thoughts. Given his volatile nature, I ought to have expected it.

I did not know what to say or do, so I nodded pathetically.

He responded by sliding his leather-clad hand down my forearm until my own hand was completely enveloped. He squeezed sharply, released, and placed my open palm on the side of his neck. I was essentially holding his head in my hands now. Sudden heat surged through my fingers, along my arms, and up into my face. I moved a thumb along his cheek, slowly and slightly, but enough that we could both feel the friction. I was still on my feet, bent slightly before Lord Ren, but my knees were as weak and trembling as the rest of me. I could feel his breath on my face, not to mention his gaze.

“Then please me,” he said, the teasing lilt gone from his voice and replaced once again with a crackling coldness. Placing a large, gloved hand on each of my shoulders, he pushed down sharply and my knees buckled. My hands fell from his face and grasped his knees for balance. I was between his legs now; they were clad in the sort of tight-but-yielding material in which it was common to train.

He shifted in the seat, not at all mindful of whether he was placing too much weight on my shoulders. Beneath the seam of his pants, just under the fly, I registered a bulging hardness; and I knew that my job at this moment had changed, very quickly and dramatically. I had never been in this position with a superior, but I was not about to defy the man who had cut Snoke literally in half, and who was poised to use sheer force to take the galaxy for himself.

I ran one hand slowly along one of Ren’s legs; huge, hard, and just barely yielding to the slight pressure my fingers applied. I reached his bulge, and put my palm on it; I gripped it gently through the fabric.

The former Commander drew in a breath and shifted again. The pressure on my shoulders relented, and I looked up at him.

His smile– smirk?– had returned, and he used one hand to finger the tangles at the back of my head; the other stroked my face and I could smell the leather from his glove.

“Take it out,” he said, in a callous voice; hard and dark.

Another order, then. I wrapped the first joint of my index finger under the waistband of his pants and felt for a clasp. I found it; brought my other hand up to assist. I fumbled for a moment until the button-fly unsnapped fully. As I folded the fabric aside, Kylo Ren’s cock burst forth, unrestrained, and was revealed to me.

As if to remind me that he could, he responded to that thought by letting go my hair, reaching up, and pulling off both his shirt and hood in one fell swoop. He discarded the material on the floor with a soft thud, and watched my eyes widen with both fear and desire as they scanned the vast landscape of protruding musculature that was Lord Ren’s chest.

There was no tailoring here; just an incredibly large, strong, and yes, exquisite man… and me, insignificant in comparison, bent helplessly between his legs with his cock in my hand.

I had come only to be asked about a mask.

“Say it… one more time.” A decidedly soft voice this time; surprising, as he returned to fingering my hair.

I looked into his eyes, searching. “Exquisite.”

I felt him twitch in my palm as the word left my lips; in response, I squeezed him and looked back down. Fully hard now, there on the tip of his member sat a glistening, tiny drop of pre-cum. I reached out with my tongue, and licked it off.

Kylo tasted salty and basey, with a hint of what I could have been tricked into thinking was some exotic spice. He was delicious, and a carnal sound indicating as much escaped from the back of my throat.

Unable to help myself, I took the head of his cock into my mouth and sucked, hoping to get another hint of Lord Ren’s taste. He obliged, and I felt another flavourful drop slide down the back of my tongue. I took him more deeply into my mouth; sliding him in further each time I came down greedily for more.

He was gasping and moaning by now; the grip on my hair tightened until it hurt. He began to force my head down, until my nose was buried in soft, dark fluff and my eyes watered from the fullness invading my throat.

As I started to fear what might happen to me were the former Commander to lose control in this situation, he relented. He pulled my face away from his crotch, pre-cum and saliva coating both his member and my lips. I coughed.

He effortlessly pulled me up by my hair until we were eye-level with one another, and then he took my chin in his other hand.

“Stand, and remove your clothing.”

Remove my–? Oh. I staggered to my feet and ran my eyes over Lord Ren; I absorbed his handsomeness, his size, and his dripping cock.

I began to unbutton my shirt and shed my garments. The shirt, simple pants, and a plain but well-fitted set of bra-and-panties dropped to the floor unceremoniously behind me. I was naked, now, before my Supreme Leader. He smiled approval at what I assumed was my lack of hesitation, and motioned for me to step closer to him; back between his legs.

I did so. Standing straight, my breasts were level with his eyes in his seated position, and to my great surprise he took one in his mouth. A large hand, still gloved, grasped my back and pulled me close, while Kylo Ren’s unexpectedly eager (and skilled) lips and tongue flicked and sucked at my now-erect nipples. First one, then the other, then back again.

I moaned; I could feel myself swelling and dampening. My knees felt weak again, so I put my hands on the back of his head and took into them thick handfuls of his irresistible raven hair. He stopped sucking and looked up at me, leaned back in his chair, and pulled me very close. I straddled his lap and leaned on his chest; my juices were dripping onto his legs and vice-versa.

Mindlessly, I began to kiss and gently nip at the vast expanse of muscled flesh in front of me. I could feel Ren’s cock twitching and leaking from between us; he put a hand on my hip and squeezed, hard. He leaned into me, and in a low rasp asked again– “Are you frightened of me?”

I ran my hands across his chest, over his nipples, and trailing my fingers along his collar bone. I looked at his face, free of shadows and billowing fabric– in this new nakedness, he had acquired an air of what almost felt like vulnerability. I was sure it was an illusion; if not, then it was the simple humanity we all exude in the absence of man-made adornments. I kept this in mind while considering how I should answer.

I put my mouth close to his ear, and whispered, “I’m terrified, but I want you, Sir.”

I felt fingers dig dully into my back through his glove, which finally prompted him to remove them. As they fell to the ground, warm, calloused, and intricately skilled hands swept over my body.

One of them traveled downward, and I thought that Kylo was going to touch himself. Instead, strong fingers began to probe my now-slick folds, producing a gasp and a loud, sharp moan. I squirmed and writhed in his lap as he explored me with his digits; first running them teasingly over my clit, then sliding down between my inner folds, working their way to my entrance. I cried out, primal and ineloquent, as first one, then two fingers entered me eagerly.

After a moment, he pulled them out and grabbed me on either side of my head with his now-ungloved hands. They were huge and wet, and I could smell myself in my own hair as he tightened his grip and pulled my ear close to his mouth.

“Tell me how afraid you are, and tell me how much you want me.”

Conflicting visions invaded my mind; in some, Kylo was in a rage on top of me and violently fucking me into oblivion; in others he was choking me, with the force or his cock. A spinning cacophony of raw sexual desire combined with abhorrent violence careened around the walls of my head.

A sharp tug in my hair snapped me out of that. I cried out in pain, but my clit was aching in a different way, and I felt so empty. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so many things at once in all my life; I did not understand how or why this was happening, but I now did not wish it to stop.

“I’m scared that you’ll kill me.” I pressed my hands into his perfect chest, just for the sheer pleasure of doing so. “But I’m more scared,” I continued nervously, “that you won’t fuck me.”

“Beg me.” The words came strained. “Bug me to fuck you, if you want it so badly.” The hint of pleading I thought I had detected in his voice earlier returned, and it made me feel the tiniest surge of power. He was so strong, and so powerful, but he clearly needed something from me here— as much as he had made me need it from him, and it was not expert craftsmanship.
I sat up taller in his lap, and he released my hair; I stared into his eyes, smouldering with rage and sex and likely a million other things. He stared back at me, and desperately, I begged for his cock. “Please, sir.”

“Please what?” Anger seeped back in.

“Please fuck me, Sir.”

He moved as if to stand, so I did too, and in an instant I was on my back, legs hanging off the edge of the desk in front of which the chair had been positioned. He took me utterly by surprise as he kneeled to the floor and grasped one of my thighs in each hand. Then, he brought his face close to my centre and began to glide his tongue over my needy outer lips. He pushed inward as he made increasingly frantic swirls around my wetness; I knew I was dribbling all down his face, but I didn’t care.

Expertly, he moved his mouth up to my clit and licked teasing circles around it before enveloping it with his lips and sucking sharply. I squealed at that, and it emboldened him to thrust his fingers back into my greedy, aching hole. My squeal became a primal groan as he curled his digits into my most sensitive spot, and ate hungrily at my swollen clit. Tears singed the corners of my eyes as I contracted almost violently around his hand; releasing a fresh stream of slick juices for him to lap up. He did so with uncharacteristic generosity, and I eagerly bucked into his face as goosebumps rose on my flesh; I tried and failed to stifle my shuddering legs.

He stood again, but before he did, he sunk his teeth into my inner thigh— possessively, yet almost as an afterthought. I looked up at him, his face now soaked in me. He did not have to tell me this time; I begged him of my own accord, “Please, Supreme Leader, I need you to fill me.” And I did— I wanted Kylo Ren’s throbbing cock inside of me right now more than I could ever remember wanting anything else.

Standing over me now, he looked larger and more formidable than ever. A thin calm, fresh and flimsy, washed over him momentarily before it slipped away for what felt like the thousandth time to reveal aggressive hunger.

Bearing down on top of me, he grabbed hold of his length and ran it up my aching folds; over and around my clit, before plunging forcefully into me all at once. A splitting pain enveloped my lower half, but it was fleeting, and soon gave way to a pleasurable sting and intoxicating sensation of fullness as he pulled his huge, throbbing member in and out of my aching pussy, faster each time.

Before long, my fingers were curled desperately around the edges of the desk and I had eagerly wrapped my legs around my former Commander’s back. Large, strong hands dug into my back and ass, keeping me just where he needed as he continued to fuck. I yelled out unceremoniously as the head of his length beat on my cervix, and clasped my walls around him every time he pulled out. 

I ceased watching him slide in and out of my cunt for a moment, and we each caught the eye of the other. His hair fell over his face and stuck to his cheeks; sweat beaded on his forehead, slithering down his nose and dripping onto me. His expression was an animalistic contortion of exotic and beautiful desire, and I simply could not stop myself from reaching up to touch his face.  
He grunted and slowed his pace, but not his level of force. He continued to slam into my core as a wave hits a rock as he leaned his huge form the rest of the way down to finally kiss me. 

I reciprocated greedily, rocking my hips violently against his languid thrusts as a fresh electric pulse rocked my body. I could feel myself contract sharply around Lord Ren as my fingers, entangled in his hair, pulled sharply. His tongue probed my mouth deeply, and I felt a strangled groan; not just my own, reverberate through my throat. At this, I felt him release himself inside of me; shuddering thrusts slowing further until he had completely drained himself into me.
I let go his hair and he withdrew both his cock from my dripping hole, and his tongue from my exhausted mouth.

Our breathing began to slow and our eyes met once again; this time, his calmness was just a bit more than skin-deep. He didn’t smile, exactly, but he did look at me with softer eyes than I had seen since I’d first entered the room not that long ago. There was no affection, and no gratefulness or praise; just a deep sense of gracious relief. His energy, for the time being, had ceased its chaotic confusion. The room felt clear; absent of tension or nervousness, and even my own thoughts began to make sense to me once again.

We propped ourselves up; slowly stood. I did not know what to say, so I picked up my tools— they were still strapped into my bag, but thebag was on the floor— and replaced them on the desk. Its surface was now slick in spots, with fingerprints in desperate patterns lining the edges. I could feel the Supreme Leader dripping out of me; running down my leg.

I stole another look at Ren as he bent his towering form over to pick up his cowl. To my great surprise, he turned and expressionlessly draped it around my shoulders. I gathered it in my hands, pulling it up in front of me, and as sweat and mutual juices dampened it, I felt a near-tenderness bubble up from the depths of my stomach.

I broke my gaze, and he began to retrieve the rest of his clothes from the floor, while I dropped the cowl finally and began to do the same. Neither slowly nor quickly, we dressed ourselves again. We were both sticky, wet and dripping, and we likely smelled of one another’s sex, but I at least was not uncomfortable.

Soon we stood facing one another, fully dressed except for Lord Ren’s cowl, which I held out to him. He did not reach out to take it, and for a moment, neither did he speak. 

“Clean it. Return it to me. Personally.” He turned to exit.

“What about your mask, sir?” I had no measurements, no plans, and no orders in regard to the initial reason for my summoning. I knew he would not have forgotten.

“We will address it when I receive my laundered hood.”

For the first time since I had arrived, I truly smiled. I nodded at Ren, and before I knew it, he had exited the room; past the broken pitcher he had thrown past my head not long ago, and into the winding corridor.

I rolled his garment up inconspicuously under my arm, and slung my kit back over my shoulder. I recalled once again what my master had said about Lord Ren; she would never know how right she had been.

I, too, walked past the broken glass littering the floor. Before exiting the room, I stopped to breathe in the fresh scents of warm leather, sweat, and recent sex. I closed my eyes briefly, then turned and walked out— I needed a shower, and to do some laundry. 
I had no way of knowing when the Supreme Leader would want his cowl back, but already I felt a burning need to have it ready for him.

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story