2. Chapter 2

He sits back, contemplating the witnessed exchange as the disgusting idiot boy cleans semen off his hands several stories above his cavern. How interesting. What he had perceived to be an echo, dismissed as the first fissures in a breaking mind, is another being all together. Whatever it is, he knows it does not exist within his apprentice's head, or did not before the child slew the father in holy rite. Of that he is certain. The lad is an open book of misery, desires, petty slights and an unbelievable level of gullibility. Snoke has taken his leisure to explore those thoughts, perusing the rather dull contents of Kylo Ren's head since taking on the apprentice nearly twenty years ago. It wouldn't do to be caught unawares just because he despised the tedium. Enough history was written in the blood of men who had made that very mistake for him to bear repeating it.

Kylo Ren is the degenerate son of a degenerate line, but he's the best of the available options. To say it makes Snoke's stomach roil at the thought of continuing the miserable reprobate's training is an exaggeration, but still. Apprentices aren't what they used to be. Not only has the boy failed to try to usurp him, carding through dirty little thoughts indicates he's barely considered it. For all his strength the boy lacks the ambition that moves men to passion, to greatness. Not a lord but a follower. A slave. The irony is sweet.

Certainly the boy had no idea of the implications when he made those laughable attempts to bring over some little scrap of scavenging nothing. If there had been any candidates of the appropriate temperament or power, his apprentice would have been nothing but a smear on the temple's cobblestone floor.

Too bad for them both.

The sensation of lassitude as his apprentice drifts to sleep is annoying. 'Come. Attend to me now.' It amuses him to jerk the boy out of sleep so quickly. Life is unpredictable and terrifying, verging on being snuffed out at any moment. Training should reflect that.

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 Coming out of the experience leaves Kylo Ren momentarily confused. Peace lingers, spilled like wine on the purity of his thoughts, seeping into the cracks where it stains. It's a temporary lapse in sanity that prompts him to involve himself in her moment of pathos, that's all, response to a prayer and his insatiable curiosity keeps him there as the girl drifts off, observing, absorbing everything he could about the experience.

He has always wanted to be a god, after all.

Still, the moment passes, sparks of light behind his eyes, the sensation of her orgasm fading away, leaving him with the more practical considerations of cleaning himself. He's spent, mind and body fuzzed with exhaustion from another day survived, and somehow, because of that damned girl, he's losing priceless sleep to bear witness to her thoughts, her basest human needs. He reaches for the darkness that lurks on the edge of awareness, stifling the vision of distant stars and grabs a dirty towel from the laundry pile to wipe sticky white release off his hands. A moment of shame that he can't place, and he tamps down on everything that isn't absolutely critical to sleep and recovery.

Today was bad. It would be foolish to expect tomorrow be any better.

It feels good to shuck off boots and robe, place the helmet in its spot of veneration and throw himself down on the thin mattress, pinch his eyes closed and fall towards an oblivion that feels like a cool night breeze under distant stars and a separate, quiet conscious nearby. Half a cot saved, for him.

Then Supreme Leader Snoke's voice, booming in his head. 'Come. Attend to me now.'

Kylo Ren flinches at the awakening. It's harsh and invasive, yanking him from sleep to the awareness of an uncaring alien mind in the space between heartbeats. 'Yes, my lord.' The muscles in his neck protest as he bows his head, reducing the distance required to grind the palms of his hands against his eyelids. It does not do to dawdle, his master cares nothing for excuses, nor for sloppy appearances before him. Stiff fingers fumble the buckles on his boots and belt, then the mask hisses on and he forces weak legs onward.

The subterranean cathedral where the Supreme Leader resides is icy cold, the door waiting open for him and slamming with an echo of stone on stone behind him. Kylo is too tired to flinch, well beyond caring what happens next to him. Voices whisper in the distance, teasing and tantalizing, false promises of strength and power. They flow over his senses like oil and he kneels in the beacon of light at the base of the dais where his lord lounges. "Supreme Leader."

His master leaves him there a long moment as his legs cramp, contemplating a broken crystalline structure in a bent metal frame. "Rise, Kylo Ren." He acknowledges at long last and the relief burns as Kylo struggles to his feet. Silence stretches, but he's learned that the quiet is not his to break. Behind his mask, he stifles a yawn. Lord Snoke glances up, then holds the device to the light, looking through it at something only he can see. "Am I boring you, my apprentice?"

"No, my lord." A proper display of submission is required; Kylo Ren inclines his head to stare at the hem of his master's robe.

Supreme Leader Snoke hums in response, listing his head lazily to one side on his too skinny neck and then places the device in his lap. He steeples long articulated fingers together and turns the full weight of his stare on the boy. "You have felt it, have you not? The stirrings in the Force?"

"I felt the awakening." Kylo murmurs, "If there is more beyond that, I do not know of it."

The corner of his master's twisted mouth twitches in smile. It is an ugly thing. "The awakening, the girl, yes. You sense her, she has tainted you; you fear to mention her to me."

"It was not my finest moment." The concession is unpleasant, but better than punishment for an outright lie.

"Lies," Supreme Leader Snoke purrs and quirks a finger, dragging Kylo Ren forward until his boots touch the first step of the dais. "You fear it," He repeats himself, leaning forward, balancing elbows on his knees.

"I fear only your wrath, Lord." Kylo's head is tilted back by a presence not his own and he can't look away from the bulbous blue eyes staring into the center of his being. Supreme Leader Snoke's disgust fills his mind, overflowing until Kylo thinks he's going to be sick.

"Pah," Master Snoke waves the words away. "I know you, Kylo Ren. I know your doubts and fears, your pains and wants. You have no secrets from me. There is something stirring between you and that child." Idly he drums fingertips against the armrest of his great chair. "I will ask only once: Can you sense her in this moment?"

The Supreme Leader knows? The taste of blood fills his mouth as Kylo bites the inside of his cheek to stand firm, to stay focused. He can't consider the implications, if Lord Snoke had been watching him… and her. Breathing out slowly, he finds the well of power inside him, around him. The whispers grow around him. Focus. The Force is strong in this place and he can feel much, including a distant point of cool blue, not calling out to him, but there none the less. "Yes, Master." A terrible pressure pulses on his synapses and Kylo Ren staggers as his lord seizes control of his mind, relegating Kylo to passive observation. Gorge rises in his throat as the Supreme Leader studies the star map and the soft glowing blue dot on the very edge of his awareness. He's jerked forward as Lord Snoke studies, probes, rifles casually through Kylo's memories, tests the tiny point of light and then wrenches himself free. Behind the mask, Kylo blinks heavily from his new position on the floor and licks a dribble of blood from his lip. He doesn't remember falling forward. "Master? My Lord?"

"Find her." The Supreme Leader stands, towering over the prone human, commands searing into his will, easing Kylo's fear and banishing his doubts. "Bring her to me." He hinges forward at the waist to place a lethal, light hand on the back of Kylo's covered head. "Your instincts are good, my Padawan."

"I am not strong enough," The confession spills out of his mind into spoken word, bypassing his intent completely as something, though he cannot guess what, withers to nothing under the lord's ministrations. He doesn't dare move his head with his lord touching him, euphoria and strength flowing through the touch. To lose the contact would be worse than death. "She will defeat me."

"Nonsense," His Master, great and strong, tuts at his doubt and increases the pressure of long soft fingers stroking the back of his skull. "You will bring two squads of soldiers. I will be with you, and the darkness of the Force as well." With a caress the lord removes his hand and sits back on his throne. "The girl will become restless if you continue your… distractions. You know her master will not demand she remain with him." His voice is absolute in its command. "Intercept her whence she leaves."

Already prostrate, Kylo touches the forehead of his mask to the stone floor. "I will not fail you, my lord."

"I know." His Master lifts the mystifying contraption again and resumes his study, a wordless dismissal.

Kylo feels strong, powerful; standing is easy, how could he have been so weak before? Turning on his heel, he marches out of the audience chamber, nearly bowling over the guards on duty. He has no time for them, they are of no interest what so ever. All that matters is the plan.

The girl.

His Lord has shown him, more clearly than any blind fumbling he might have wrought on his own, the thin strand of taint leading back to her that he will always be able to find again. It feels different, now that his Master has studied it, tested it, strengthened it. Could he see through her eyes now, he wonders, could he taste through her lips?

The girl will become restless if you continue your… distractions.

The meaning is clear. He will meditate on his strategy while this state of beatification persists, formulate a plan. Execute it. Kylo Ren doesn't remember his feet carrying him to this section of the temple, past the old relics that mean nothing to him. They are crutches for those weaker than he. At the bottom of the great gallery he finds the small pool of black water in a black basin and kneels in a faint hollow worn into the stone. His mask comes off with a pneumatic hiss and he sets it beside him, staring at the reflection of face below him. Closing his eyes, the blessed apprentice breathes deeply and the whispers become distinct, wispy flashes of ultra-violet in his minds eyes that draw closer, twining sensually around his thoughts. They are so close, so wise, these keepers of darkness, he can all but taste them on his lips. They speak of great things, power beyond all comprehension that he has dedicated his life to achieving, not yet his, but soon. Soon. They find his connection to the girl and oh, oh they have the loveliest suggestions for her, for this connection. This persuasion.

The body of Kylo Ren shudders with want; he feels her waking on a distant world, mind thick with sleep and so very suggestible. The whispers recede as he reaches for her; she is too bright for them, creatures pure in their darkness, but he, he is less than they are. Though he shies from her light, he can still reach out, make contact. Hopefully without being destroyed.

Kylo feels her react to his arrival, intrusion, and the path is clear before him. 'Rey'. Her mind is muzzy beneath his inspection, lax, ever so slightly curious. His smile reflects in the pool of black water and he closes his eyes and focuses all his might, all his power on a visualization of the girl. He starts with lips, pink and parted under wide honey-flecked eyes. Dunes and valleys of soft golden skin, bare beneath the sun. It's for her benefit but blood rushes to his groin as he continues picking out the details on this idol of the mind, letting the Force guide it to completion. Clever. Lithe. Strong. Sweet. Something to be teased or worshipped with hands and mouth and cock. Preferably his, but he lets her participate, offer the details of the man beside her: long body of hard planes wrapped around feminine convexities, dark hair that brushes against her shoulder, face frustratingly vague in contrast to hands with long fingers picked out in exquisite detail.

He slips into her mind with barely a ripple, a passive observer, gentle, careful. Her eyes gaze out over the sea, but she's consumed, beautifully so, on the image, the desire he's projecting, a thin calloused finger tracing her lower lip. Together, they shiver at the sensation and the faint residual taste from her climax from hours ago. The exercise is supposed to be for her benefit, but it affects him so strongly, she affects him so strongly, that in the sacred darkness he palms the straining tent in his pants through his outer robe, arching silently into it.

The bloody woman bites down on the thin skin of her fingertip as the sensation of him floods her mind and he would happily die to feel her sigh against his skin. Kylo grinds against his hand, mind whiting out for a moment as the hand not toying with her mouth skims back down to her cunt, warm and wet and just a little bit tender.

Her pleasure crackles across his synapses, and it almost kills him, but he withdraws from their shared moment, letting the visualization fade from his mind's eye. He remembers her embarrassment, her humiliation from their first unintended foray. The purpose behind this is to entice, seduce, exhort her to the long high brink of insanity. If she becomes aware of his intents, becomes cautious or hostile, decides to shut him out, it will take all the longer. That is impermissible.