What was left of his fragile control shattered, and he let out a strangled groan, his forehead dropping to rest against her own as he took a moment to catch his breath. His length, painfully hard, nudged against the crease of her hip.
Looking down between their bodies, he let his hand join hers, breathing deeply as he pressed the heel of his palm against the back of her hand, feeling the press of her hips as she rutted against the added friction.
He felt a rush of guilt, of regret, that he couldn't say the same. Before, he hadn't let it occur to him. For all his talk about the two of them being destined to be one, he had assumed their bond would be one of power and politics, and anything more he might've wanted was a product of his weakness. Now, in Darrow, he hadn't allowed himself to think of her, because it seemed a violation. He'd demanded so much from her, and killing his selfish fantasies of what she ought to be to him felt like the only way to put Kylo Ren to rest, once and for all.
But she was here now, asking, giving permission, and he was weak. But he thought, maybe, there were certain weaknesses worth nurturing.
His breath hitching, he found that he was able to slide a finger into her alongside her own, and he mimicked the movement of her hand, curling that long finger upward, deeper than she was able to manage on her own. "Let me," he asked breathlessly, and there was a base messiness to the act he'd never considered. The Jedi were not meant to give in to physical desires, and he understood for the first time how easily one might become obsessed with such things.
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Looking down between their bodies, he let his hand join hers, breathing deeply as he pressed the heel of his palm against the back of her hand, feeling the press of her hips as she rutted against the added friction.
He felt a rush of guilt, of regret, that he couldn't say the same. Before, he hadn't let it occur to him. For all his talk about the two of them being destined to be one, he had assumed their bond would be one of power and politics, and anything more he might've wanted was a product of his weakness. Now, in Darrow, he hadn't allowed himself to think of her, because it seemed a violation. He'd demanded so much from her, and killing his selfish fantasies of what she ought to be to him felt like the only way to put Kylo Ren to rest, once and for all.
But she was here now, asking, giving permission, and he was weak. But he thought, maybe, there were certain weaknesses worth nurturing.
His breath hitching, he found that he was able to slide a finger into her alongside her own, and he mimicked the movement of her hand, curling that long finger upward, deeper than she was able to manage on her own. "Let me," he asked breathlessly, and there was a base messiness to the act he'd never considered. The Jedi were not meant to give in to physical desires, and he understood for the first time how easily one might become obsessed with such things.