Those dreams were never specific, and they tended to fade like smoke the moment he awoke from them, more a series of feelings than anything he could recount. Often, he returned to consciousness with a gasp, heart hammering in his chest, the sheets sweaty and tangled around him. Guilt clawing at his throat. More rarely, he awoke slowly, gently, feeling more rested than he had in nearly a decade, the whisper of her voice echoing through his mind.
That night, he merely dozed, frustrated by his inability to drift off completely. He'd slept rarely, in his years with the First Order, but when he had, he'd tended to sleep deeply and efficiently. If there were dreams, he stubbornly refused to give them any consideration. Now, his mind was a jumble of all those thoughts he'd denied.
Shutting his eyes, he drew in a slow, steadying breath, reminding himself to be mindful of the space around him. It was then, laying on his side beneath the thin sheets of his bed, that he felt the mattress dip beside him. Opening his eyes, he found her lying there, the dim light from the window casting her pale skin an eerie blue.
Frozen, he watched her, unsure of what to do. The rise and fall of her chest matched his own— slow and steady, despite the hammering of his heart. There was a small freckle on her breastbone. He couldn't seem to look away.
"Rey," he finally murmured into the silent room, as he slowly lifted his head, propping himself up onto one elbow. This wasn't the first time that she'd called to him while he'd been asleep, but it was the first time they'd found themselves in this position, under the covers and with him wearing nothing more than a pair of dark grey sleep pants, and Rey wearing...
no subject
Those dreams were never specific, and they tended to fade like smoke the moment he awoke from them, more a series of feelings than anything he could recount. Often, he returned to consciousness with a gasp, heart hammering in his chest, the sheets sweaty and tangled around him. Guilt clawing at his throat. More rarely, he awoke slowly, gently, feeling more rested than he had in nearly a decade, the whisper of her voice echoing through his mind.
That night, he merely dozed, frustrated by his inability to drift off completely. He'd slept rarely, in his years with the First Order, but when he had, he'd tended to sleep deeply and efficiently. If there were dreams, he stubbornly refused to give them any consideration. Now, his mind was a jumble of all those thoughts he'd denied.
Shutting his eyes, he drew in a slow, steadying breath, reminding himself to be mindful of the space around him. It was then, laying on his side beneath the thin sheets of his bed, that he felt the mattress dip beside him. Opening his eyes, he found her lying there, the dim light from the window casting her pale skin an eerie blue.
Frozen, he watched her, unsure of what to do. The rise and fall of her chest matched his own— slow and steady, despite the hammering of his heart. There was a small freckle on her breastbone. He couldn't seem to look away.
"Rey," he finally murmured into the silent room, as he slowly lifted his head, propping himself up onto one elbow. This wasn't the first time that she'd called to him while he'd been asleep, but it was the first time they'd found themselves in this position, under the covers and with him wearing nothing more than a pair of dark grey sleep pants, and Rey wearing...
Well.