"Movement" by Mozart

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i have nothing to say re: this
You weren’t moving. Not one inch. Not even to lift a finger. As you lay there in bed, looking up at the ceiling, every limb of your body was as still as stone. Your hands folded neatly over the bare skin of your stomach, your hair fanned out across the pillows, your toes hidden underneath a sheet.

It was a bit uncomfortable, you supposed, because you were as naked as the day you were born. But you didn’t complain. Couldn’t complain, because that was breaking one of his commands. And you weren’t moving, either, because that was the other one. So you stayed still in bed. Not your own bed, of course. His bed. And you were waiting for him to return.

In your head, you turned over the words he’d said to you before he left. Don’t move, he’d said. Not one inch. And you won’t say a word until I return. You closed your eyes, thinking of the way he’d loomed over you as he’d done so, dark hair against a pale and saturnine face, a gloved hand digging shallow marks into the bare skin of your hip.

It was hard to feel sorry for someone like Kylo Ren, you supposed. But in this instance, you’d have to. It wasn’t easy to be torn away from a nude lover because someone needed him urgently. Hmph! You knew what true urgency was: it was the lust in his dark eyes when he first summoned you to his room, knowing that, no matter what his demands, he’d never go undisturbed for the extended period of time he wanted you for. But even this was going a little too far; he hadn’t even had enough time to undress.

You’d almost gotten out of the way, in case he was going to throw another tantrum and destroy half of his furniture, as was his preferred anger management method. But to your surprise he’d bent over you and he'd given you those simple commands. And you were going to follow them.

It was the least you could do, you knew. His mood had improved marginally since he’d started sleeping with you. Not that that sort of moodiness could ever be cured, but from what you heard, some of the others were relieved to report that his weekly Force-chokings had gone down considerably. So you lay there, keeping yourself entertained by counting your breaths until he returned.

You heard steps outside in the corridor, and despite all your willful discipline, you couldn’t help but raise your head a little. Was someone not 6’3” and gloomy going to open the door and find you there? A scandalous position, being found naked in your boss’s bed. But the footsteps receded into the distance and you settled back down, feeling ashamed at your impulsiveness. Hopefully his powers weren’t as vast as your imagination made them out to be and he wouldn’t feel your disobedience from far away. Though you supposed that he might actually enjoy thinking up punishments for you.

You had no idea when he was going to return, so you closed your eyes, hoping that it wasn’t breaking some unwritten rule by going to sleep. You lay like that for a little while, daydreaming of tall dark figures stooping over you, until heavy footsteps made you jolt awake. This time you didn’t rise, but when they stopped in front of Ren’s door, you weren’t sure if you could stay in your position.

Hopefully it was just some grunt who would leave as soon as they realized he wasn’t in his chambers. But when a voice called out Ren’s name and you recognized it as Phasma’s, your heart began to beat so loudly that you swore she’d be able to hear it from outside.

She had privileges that even you didn’t. She could very well open the door and see you in that compromising position. Desperately, you tried to reassure yourself. If you were Ren’s lover, then what could be done about it? If anything, you might be treated better than you already were. Maybe you’d be a protected class.

Or maybe they’d find some way to concoct some escape pod “accident” out of some sort of jealousy of you being his favorite. You were skating on thin ice with her, anyway. Did you need to give her yet another reason to blast you into dust?

She called out for him again, and you sat up again, this time out of genuine panic. If anything you couldn’t ruin Ren’s reputation like this. There had to be some rule in the book of evil against sleeping with your underlings. Once, perhaps, but not all the time. In your hectic visions you saw her tattling on him to Hux, or something, and when she refused to leave, you knew that you couldn’t stay there.

The door flew open, but you were already gone, the bed only slightly mussed without you. You were hidden in a wardrobe, under cover of countless interchangeable black outfits, and you wondered if she would be able to tell that you were there. Certainly she could smell fear, or hear your heart frantically beating in your chest, or perhaps she’d sense your presence and feel the warmth of the sheets from where you just were.

She entered the room and you could hear her as she looked around for a moment. You wanted to stamp your feet; didn’t she know that Ren was away? Didn’t she know everything? But just when you feared she’d call your name and swing the doors to your hiding place open, she left as quickly as she’d come. The door shut quietly behind her.

You held in a sigh of relief and waited until you could no longer her footsteps before preparing to return to bed. You’d only been gone for a few minutes, and you doubted that Ren would ever be able to tell.

You tried to get the doors open, but they were a bit jammed; perhaps you’d pulled them a bit too hard to make sure they were shut tight behind you. You felt just about smothered by Ren’s moody clothing and you panicked, jumping to conclusions again, assuming that you were just going to die right there before he got back. Certainly you’d lose all your oxygen in there, right? You’d suffocate, naked in your boss’s closet. They’d tell stories about you around the ranks for years.

You were banging hard on the doors, so loudly that you couldn’t hear the footsteps approaching, but when Ren’s door open again, you were so startled that your fist landed heavier than before. Or, perhaps — someone had come to rescue you. Either way, the doors opened and you tumbled gracelessly onto the floor, landing heavily at the feet of your visitor.

Your first frantic thought was that Phasma had reappeared, or perhaps Hux was dropping by, along with dozens of your coworkers and peers. But as the words to a pathetic explanation caught in your throat, you realized that you recognized the hem of the robes, given that you were nearly smothered by them minutes before. Slowly your gaze lifted up to the familiar saturnine face that looked down upon you with an expression that nearly flattened you against the floor.

Kylo Ren had returned.

And you were not where you were supposed to be.

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