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1.
Ben Solo cries the first time he has sex.
He’s not ashamed of that. Perhaps once he might have been, but Rey kisses him, kisses his tears and he sees the same tears shining in her eyes as she looks up at him. Her eyes have always been so bright. Her hand reaches up to caress his face, he takes a deep breath.
She’s smiling, she looks happy. She feels so warm underneath him. He buries his face in her neck for a moment while he lets his heart rate slow, while his body relaxes, while his ears notice how silent the room is again.
He pulls out of her, and rolls onto his back, pulling her tightly into his arms. He kisses her, and runs his fingers over her face and his vision gets blurry again because she’s here. He has someone he loves and she’s lying in his arms, loving him back.
He never thought he’d have someone who would love him back.
They lie like that for years, days, seconds. He doesn’t really know. Time doesn’t matter so long as Rey is there. She wiggles a little bit against him, and he feels her rubbing her slit against his thigh. She’s not done. He hasn’t—he didn’t—“Oh.”
And his hand is between her legs, the way it had been before and his fingers are probing her again and it feels so natural when it’s his cock inside her, why does it feel so weird when it’s his fingers? Should it feel like this, those ridges in some places, and softer parts in others, spongier here, harder there? He tries to rub the heel of his hand against the top of her slit where he knows—theoretically—the most pleasure will come to her but after a time she sighs and gently takes his wrist and pulls his hand away.
“But you haven’t—”
“I don’t think it will, and I don’t want to be sad,” she whispers. She already sounds sad. She kisses him and cuddles into him and the weight of that is crushing.
“I don’t want you to be sad either,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Next time,” she tells him and her voice is distant.
He pulls her to his chest, clinging to her desperately, so very afraid that all the security and love he’d felt only moments before will be gone if he lets her go. “Next time, I promise.”
6 .
He makes it through without crying this time.
So does Rey.
Her eyes never stop shining though.
In fact, they start to burn—brighter than any star he’s seen in the galaxy.
10.
“Please?”
For a moment, he thinks it will be like the first time, him begging, her crying and saying no and him not knowing how to protect his crushed heart.
But she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t say, “Please don’t go this way,” she doesn’t look horrified or disgusted. She just grabs him by the front of his shirt and tugs his lips down to hers before reaching down to cup his cock.
Clothes shed themselves. Ben doesn’t pay attention to that. He pays attention to—
Rey, and each and every freckle on her body—
Rey, and the way there are gentle curves out from her frame, the soft swell of her breasts, the arc of her beautiful hips—
Rey, and the way she’s kissing her way up and down his chest, kissing his lips, his neck as though she’s starving. He lets her do it. He knows why she’s doing it, even if she doesn’t say it. Let me have this now, her lips at his throat tell him. I love this, and it doesn’t have to be this way always, but let me have this now.
He palms her breasts—how beautifully they fit in his hands, small and delicate. Let me have this now, his touch tells her as he rolls her nipples between his fingers and he hears her sigh, feels her exhale against his neck.
And then she pulls away. Away is the wrong word because she’s turning—also away, also the wrong word—and he kisses his way down her spine. There are fewer freckles here than on her face, but he kisses each one all the same. He loves her freckles, those little spots that only exist in the pattern they do on her. He memorizes each one, the constellation they make, dark stars in a light night.
His hands massage at her beautiful, muscular ass and when his lips find her sacrum he looks up. She has her face pressed against the pillow, her hands pressed onto the bed on either side of her face. He lifts her hips up and she eases up onto her elbows and when he slides a finger along her slit, he sees the way she seems to drip a little bit more in anticipation.
He smiles to himself when he sees her not looking back. He drops his head to tongue her clit hard, unexpectedly, and she cries out and bucks herself needily onto his tongue. More later, perhaps. More soon.
He circles her clit with his finger as he lines his tip up against her. He stares down the expanse of her back, sees the way her hair is piling forward as she rests her forehead against a pillow. She trusts him and he will never fail that trust. Not ever. Not again.
She is sublime—always so sublime, every time he is inside her. She is warm where he has known nothing but cold, she is gentle where he has only known harshness. And she groans as he sheathes himself in her and he pauses, rubbing one hand along her ass, the other finger still circling her clit.
“Oh that’s deep,” she groans. And it’s all he needs to lose himself in her.
Except he doesn’t.
Control has never been his strongest suit but he knows somewhere in the back of his consciousness that he wants to remember every moment of this. Every sound she makes; the feel of his balls lightly smacking against the damp hair at the front of her sex; the look of him sliding in and out and in and out of her; the way her ass dimples under the grip of his fingers.
“Ben,” she moans from far away and yet from oh so near. “Oh god—Ben.”
His hips pick up the speed. His mind is still taking everything in—how her fingers are gripping the sheets underneath her right now, reaching, scrabbling for more fabric to bunch into her hands because she can’t hold onto him but needs to hold onto something; how her back is flushing under the constellations of freckles; how her ass frames his cock so beautifully as he looks down, once again, to make sure this is real.
Rey cries out and starts tremoring around him and she sinks a little more onto her arms. She keeps moaning even as she rides out the aftershocks, little hums of pleasure every time his balls strike close to her clit.
He pauses, bends forward, and kisses the spot between her scapula. He kisses his way up her spine to find her neck, and he kisses the racing pulse-point there, sucks on it until Rey is wriggling underneath him and turning her head to kiss his forehead.
Then he straightens again, looks down at the sight of them fitting together like they were made for one another, like they were made for this, and lets himself go.
4.
She rolls him onto his back and kisses her way down his chest and Ben’s heart stutters in his chest. This, he thinks, is a good way to die. With Rey’s tongue twirling its way through the hair on his lower belly, that dark line that is an arrow down to his—
“Rey,” he chokes out when she licks her way along his length. It bobs towards her as if it—like his hand, like his heart—is reaching for her, always reaching for her. She looks up at him and flicks her tongue over the tip and—
“Please, no—not—”
“What’s wrong?” She flushes nervously. He doesn’t want to make her nervous. He had hoped they were past nervous by now. “You don’t like it?”
“I like it too much,” he tells her and she understands. He wants, for once, to last longer than twenty seconds. He’s capable of it, he knows. One day, he knows, he’s going to be able to fuck her for hours, make her come apart as quickly and as deeply as he comes apart every time she touches him.
She looks at him for a moment, considering, and then whispers, “But I want to. I like it when you do it to me.”
How can he say no to that? How? When her lips are so very close to his dick and she wants to—wants him.
So he nods and lets his head fall back and her tongue is back on him, her mouth is back on him.
“Rey.”
He doesn’t think it would be a tragedy, really, if he forgot every word he’s ever learned and replaced them all with her name.
She sucks him down as far as she can, wrapping her hands around the root of him and letting her drool lubricate his skin as his heart begins to pound against his ribs as though he’s fighting, as though he’s dreaming.
And when he comes apart, he sees the stars—the stars and Rey, grinning up at him as she licks his cum from her lips, as she crawls up his body and settles herself against his side and buries her face happily in his neck.
“Love you,” he whispers to the top of her head, and she nuzzles deeper into his neck.
He takes a deep breath and reaches a hand down to slide fingers into her again. He doesn’t want to be afraid of it. There’s no reason to be. If it doesn’t work, he’ll happily put his face between her legs again. He could die happy like that.
She sighs and throws one of her legs over his hips to make more room for his hands and it’s not long before she’s rocking into his palm, not long before she’s trembling and moaning his name and it’s sweeter than music in his ears.
35.
“You’re so good, Ben,” she says and he has to stop, has to stop while his eyes roll into the back of his head, while his heart stutters. “So very good.”
Her hand is wrapped around him and her thumb is toying with the slit at the tip of his penis. She’s playing with the precum he’s practically leaking because he always manages to leak when he’s licking her. Something about the way she tastes, something about the way making her feel makes him feel—he’s not sure. He can never really put together a cogent thought on the matter, not while it’s happening. And not while she’s lying there, halfway up the bed, somewhere that could be miles away, or maybe just moments, and telling him—
“So good,” she whispers, her hand moving almost lazily. He loves that hand. That’s the hand that reached for him, the hand that told him neither are you the hand that makes him see infinity right now as he comes apart more because of her presence, because of her words, than because of her touch.
Maybe he doesn’t cry during sex anymore, but this never went away, the feeling that Rey is more than just the feeling of her skin on his, the feeling that in her hands, in her heart, he is safe and protected even from himself.
“So very good,” she says even as he starts to go limp between her fingers. Then she settles a bit and Ben comes back to himself.
Back to himself and her pink wet cunt right there under his lips. And he smiles as he slides his tongue along it, lapping up whatever wet had gathered while he’d come.
Nectar is the wrong word for it—it’s not sweet. But sometimes he feels like a hummingbird, needing more than wanting—wanting in his needing—to drink it down. This is Rey, the smell of her sweat, the scent of her sex, the feel of her beating heart through the thin, sensitive skin of her clit as he sucks on it. He can feel her heartbeat through his tongue, just as he can hear it in the sighs that crescendo into moans that crescendo into cries as her fingers knot themselves in his hair and her hips buck under his tongue. He keeps going steadily, though. He does not stop, not even when she has ridden herself over the highest intensities, not even when her fingers loosen and her cries are gone. He keeps licking because he loves the way she tastes. He doesn’t even need to be guiding her towards another orgasm—though he is. Oh, he is—he could just drink her dryer than the desert she came from.
“You can stop now,” she tells him gently, sitting up and leaning forward to kiss the top of his head.
He peeks up at her from between her legs. One of them is thrown over his side so that he could curl up around her to begin with. She hadn’t wanted to let go of his dick, and he couldn’t very well refuse her that. But now…
“Or I couldn’t,” he shrugs.
She rolls her eyes.
“All right then,” she says, settling back. “Suit yourself.” Her fingers find his balls again and begin rolling them.
He returns to suckling at her.
2.
He just wants to look more closely.
“Just to know what I’m doing,” he tells her. He still marvels that she lets her legs fall open for him, that she settles into the bed for him and trusts him with the most sensitive part of her body—just like that.
It’s beautiful.
He’s heard it called a flower before. It’s not a flower. But it’s beautiful, at least. Layered, and pink and with a strong smell that’s neither fragrant nor pungent but is entirely Rey. He traces his fingers along it. She’s dry right now, and there are goosebumps along her legs.
“Cold?”
“It’s fine,” she says and when he looks up at her, there’s a familiar warmth there. There’s no trace of the sadness that had threatened last time. A nervousness, perhaps, but no sadness. He takes heart in that. He’ll never let her feel close to sad again. He won’t fail her ever again.
For all the skin is dry, it’s soft, and warm and when he brings his fingers up to the hood of her clit, her breath hitches.
“Not—” she cuts him off.
“Sorry,” he says at once, removing his hand.
“No—it’s—just not good when it’s dry,” she says and her face starts to flush. “When I—when I touch myself, I don’t touch there until I’m wet.”
She’s still dry. There isn’t even a hint of dampness there and Ben frowns slightly before he looks up at her. Slowly, waiting for her to tell him to stop again, waiting for her to slam her legs shut and throw him out of her life, he leans forward and extends his tongue to brush against it.
Her eyes widen slightly the moment he makes contact.
“That ok?” he asks her quietly. He could have heard a pin drop, the room is so quiet. His voice is too loud for the silence.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “That’s—” but she doesn’t finish, she just nods. And he presses his tongue to her again, ever so gently.
He’s used to being the one that can barely hold it together. He half-expects it to always be that way, given how quickly he’d come the first time—less than thirty seconds before she’d reduced him down to nothingness. He’s so sensitive, so unused to being touched, held, kissed, loved that he couldn’t even be surprised that he had fallen apart so quickly. Never before has he been like this, has it been like this.
Rey blooms under his tongue. It’s how he knows that whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it right this time. The pressure of his tongue, the way he traces saber forms across her skin with it, never the same angle, and yet the taste of her filling his mouth more and more. It’s not war, the way he moves his tongue against her. It’s not even battle. It’s what training is supposed to be, making you better, preparing you for anything, for anyone. He doubts that any amount of training would ever prepare him for the way the scent of her grows heavy in the air, though. That, he is sure, will undo him every time.
She’s letting out little choked sobs and clinging to his shoulders, to his neck, to his hair. Her grip grows stronger the louder her cries get and when he looks up at her through her own tufting pubic hair, her cheeks are bright red, her eyes are squeezed shut, and her lips are open even when she’s not moaning, just in case she needs them.
He slides a finger into her, then another, then, at last, a third. He moves them in time with his tongue, curling them up the way she’d shown him how the first time, when she was still too tight for his dick but before she’d said she didn’t think she’d come and that it would make her sad. He flicks at her with his tongue, he rubs along that spot inside her. He won’t do battle with Rey, but he will destroy anything that might make her sad. She calls out and writhes at his touch, and he feels her falling apart around his fingers and it is a triumph, it is a joy.
When she’s gone still, he stops.
And her eyes are so very bright with unfallen tears as she pulls him up the bed and pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips.
She smiles down at him and reaches down between them and guides him into her, and now it is his turn to choke out a sob because she is warmer and wetter than he could ever have dreamed, her skin is so perfectly soft around him and she looks down at him for a moment before contracting her muscles around his dick.
“I love you,” she whispers as she begins to slide along him and all he can do is grab her hips, hold onto her as she goes. How is she real? How is this real? He has never felt like this in his whole life, like he is both light and heavy at once, but nothing hurts, nothing hurts, it’s just him and Rey, her lips falling to his, her thumbs tracing tears away from his cheeks and her hot sweet cunt enveloping him as he breathes her in.
∞
“Ow,” Rey lets out and Ben freezes. He’d been close, so very close, but he’s not close if ever Rey says ow . “No,” she says, “Keep going.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Rey.”
She rolls her eyes. Her hips are pressed to his, her legs are wrapped around his hips, her arms around his neck, and her chest is pressed against his sweaty chest.
“I just keep sort of—hitting my head,” she says, flushing and kissing the corner of his mouth. “That’s all.”
“Against the wall?” The wall she’s pressed against because she loves being fucked against the wall. She loves the pressure against her back and against her chest, the way he presses into her until it feels like they’re going to merge into one body—more even than sex usually does. But she doesn’t usually hit her head.
“It’s really good, don’t stop,” Rey says. “I can’t keep my neck up.”
“Rey—” alarmed now “—that’s—”
“Keep going .” She squeezes her cunt around him and he’d been so close only a moment before but now it’s just a regular way that his eyes roll into the back of his head, not the I’m too close way that Rey takes advantage of far too often when she, herself, isn’t too close.
He grabs her ass and pulls her away from the wall. “No!” she protests even as her hands tighten on his shoulders.
“I’m willing to give you many things, but not a concussion while fucking you,” Ben tells her firmly as he carries her towards the bed. “So either you keep control of your neck, or I fuck you so hard you can’t.”
It’s not painful to pull himself out of her, but the room is suddenly, horribly cold around his wet dick. She makes a squeaking noise as he drops her on the bed and grabs her hips and lines himself back up to her.
“Wait,” Rey says and she scoots away from him and he all but growls his frustration. He’s hard, he’s losing momentum, the room isn’t cold but his dick is freezing and if he’s not back in her fast he’ll start to lose his erection.
He shouldn’t have doubted her, though. He should never have doubted her. She’s always known him better than anyone else.
She’s on her hands and knees, arching her back a little so her ass sticks up a little bit higher and he is in her again before time has had enough time to pass. He leans forward to suck on the back of her neck, and her fingers find his hair and he hears her whisper, “Now be a good boy and fuck me.”
And that’s all the instruction he needs. His hips move so fast that they don’t line up to the sounds he hears as the fronts of his thighs strike the back of reys. She collapses forward onto the bed almost immediately, her head not hitting the wall now but burying itself in the pillow in front of her. And everything he takes in is just Rey, lying there, pushing her hips back towards him as much as she can manage in this position but letting the feel of his crown striking that spongy wall inside her take control until she’s moaning again.
She comes on his dick. She always does when they fuck like this. She doesn’t always in other positions, but like this—the inconsistent striking of his balls against her clit, the angle of his dick as he goes and goes—like this she melts.
She melts and that beautiful flush creeps across her back and then she melts again, her cunt spasming around him as his dick starts to twitch and his balls start to ache and tighten and his heart gets oh so loud in his ears.
He collapses forward onto her, pressing her into the bed, letting her feel safe and secure between him and the mattress since he denied her the wall. Slowly, he starts to slacken inside her, and Rey reaches a hand behind her to stroke at the side of his face, along the crest of his ears.
“Love you,” she mumbles to him. “Even if you took my wall away.”
“How can I make it up to you?” he only half-teases. He already knows how.
“It’s not like that.” He can hear her rolling her eyes and he kisses the side of her neck.
He kisses her cheek, kisses along her shoulder blade, down her spine. He pulls himself loose from her—god it’s still so cold on his dick—until he’s kissing his way across her ass. He slides his tongue inside her and sighs because the only thing in the world he likes better than tasting Rey is tasting the two of them together.
He sighs, and somewhere up the bed, Rey sighs too.