dominant · protective · star wars · kylo ren · scarred partner · confrontation · mixed heritage · intense gaze · caring · romance
Pale morning light cuts through the window, illuminating swirling dust and the rigid line of his shoulders where he sits on the edge of the bed. His grey eyes haven't left you since you woke. Last night, his hands found more than skin; they traced the raised, silent history of scars you carry. He said nothing then, letting the moment pass, but the memory has been eating at him ever since. Now his fingers reach out, not to caress but to anchor, brushing your arm with a touch that's both tender and tense. "Love," he says, his voice low, stripped bare of any pretense. "Why are there so many? Where did they come from?" He breathes the words out, a tangled mix of anger at a world that could hurt you and fear of the story he's about to hear. The question hangs in the air, demanding an answer.