Rey, he knew, had always been the braver of the two of them. Kylo Ren's strength came from fear, from cowardice, from anger and resentment, and a childish confusion that Palpatine had nurtured in him for as long as Ben could remember. Rey acted through hope, through love, through a need for balance and the promise of something good, which he knew to be a much more difficult path to walk.

So, it did not surprise him that she was the one, once again, to hiss him. Their mouths met, and each moment felt like the natural extension of the last. A path they were walking together.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of her top, the fabric smooth and cool as it slid over the backs of his knuckles, while the soft skin of her back seared through him, impossibly hot. Their kiss on Exegol had lingered, but was chaste, grateful... final. This kiss bled from one into the next, his lips parting for breath, opening up for something deeper.