strongerthanblood | [for ben]

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ben solo

[for ben]

She can't sleep.

For hours, she's tried but something is keeping her awake, some gnawing thing that she can't seem to identify. She gets up to make tea, padding silently through her too big apartment in a pajama set that felt had like a particularly decadent purchase, a soft pink silk tank with thin straps and matching shorts.

Boy shorts, the sales woman had called them. They don't look like anything she's ever seen a boy wear, but she didn't argue. She had thought the set was pretty, and she keeps telling herself that it's okay to get something just because it was pretty. And if a part of the reason she gets it is because maybe she'd like someone else to see it someday, well, she doesn't think on it too hard.

After drinking a cup of tea and doing a little reading, she tries again to go to sleep, but it's futile. She feels too warm, stretched out on one side of the bed with a sheet draped across her legs, and she closes her eyes again to avoid staring up at the ceiling.

She feels so restless, and she allows herself to wonder what Ben is doing, if he's tossing and turning like she is. She thinks of him so often, in a multitude of ways, but right now she thinks of him fondly, wondering what he might look like when he sleeps.

Rey is so busy wondering, in fact, that she doesn't even notice when the mattress subtly dips with added weight.

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Rey can feel him there, in her mind, and it’s a welcomed presence that soothes her anxieties and makes her feel reassured. Understood. She nods a little and lets herself relax against him, letting the length of him slot up between her legs, where the thin, silky fabric is warm and damp.

After pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, letting her tongue sneak out to taste the salt of his skin, she pulls back enough to look at him. This time, she’s the one who puts her hands on his chest, letting them sweep over the rise of his pecs before circling her finger curiously around one small, pebbled nipple. And then she lets her hands drift lower, feeling his abdomen tighten as her fingers skim over the ridges of muscle.

“Ben.” She feels overwhelmed by the enormity of her want, and she lets out a shuddering breath before letting herself fall back against the mattress, legs splayed open across his thighs as she reaches for him. “I don’t—“ She pauses, swallowing hard as her thighs tense under his hands, belly clenching with desire. “I don’t want there to be a single part of me that you haven’t touched.”

"There won't be," he promised, rolling with her without missing a single beat, the two of them moving as one, as they always had. In his mind, he moved with purposeful confidence, but uncharacteristically, he was unable to get his body to fully comply. Instead, his hands trembled as he moved down her body, mouth open against the swell of her breast as he hooked his fingers in the elastic of her shorts and eased them down.

He felt clumsy, boyish, something he'd hated as a child, but somehow, didn't seem so awful now.

The words make her shiver pleasantly, smiling as he moves to cover her with his body. She can feel the slight tremor of his hands and she likes that in this, the rigid confidence of his movements has slipped. They’re fumbling through this together, both of them learning something completely new.

Still, she doesn’t want him to be nervous, so she opens her mind to him as his mouth finds her breast, letting him feel her thrill of pleasure at the curl of his slick tongue around her nipple.

This is what you do to me, she tells him, letting him feel her absolute trust in him as her hips lift so he can remove that last small scrap of clothing from her body. She’s never been naked in front of another person, but she knows that she’s in good hands. His hands, which have overwhelmed her thoughts at night, when she was alone.

Now they’re on her, reducing her to a quivering mess as she arches up for more. She breathes out his name like a plea, sliding her hands down his back until she can push at the waistband of his sweats, keeping the bond open as she feels another pulsing clench of want between her legs.

Edited 2020-03-15 20:40 (UTC)

For a moment, the feedback loop of their pleasure overwhelmed him completely. He froze, panting against the underside of her ribs. Pushing himself up onto one arm, he helped push the last of their clothes out of the way, rumbling out a low laugh as they rushed to kick them to the floor.

The room was dark, but the light from the streetlamps outside cast her in a relief of glowing skin and shadows, and there was a familiarly spirited tilt to her smile. She wasn't afraid of him, or of this.

Setting a hand against the inside of her thigh, he spread her knees open, looking down upon her with an intensity that many found unnerving. "Do you ever touch yourself?" He asked, his tone matter of fact, as if approaching a puzzle to solve. He could look for the answer himself, and she would let him, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Rey looks up at his face and, on a whim, uses her mind to nudge up the light switch in the bathroom. Dim light spills into the room, making it easier to see each other while still maintaining that quiet safety of darkness.

Now, she can better see the expression on his face as he spreads her legs apart, staring down at her with a single-mindedness that makes her chest heave with anticipation. The question makes her grip at the sheets and she lets out a soft, breathy moan, even though he hasn't even touched her yet.

"Sometimes," she admits, squeezing his flanks between her strong thighs. There have been nights where she can't help but to shove her hand down between her legs, fumbling and messy as she rubs at herself and imagines that it was him instead. "More often, since I came here. Do you?"

She thinks of his composure as Kylo Ren, where it seemed that every movement of his body had a distinct purpose, and wonders if he ever allowed himself to feel pleasure. Her head lifts from the bed so she can glance down between their bodies, eyes widening slightly at the size of the hard length jutting out from his body. She imagines his beautiful hand wrapped around it and lets out another soft, needy sound as her head falls back to the bed.

"Sometimes," he echoed, his mouth quirking into a faint smile, "More often, since I came here."

In the glow of the bathroom light, he could see the dark smattering of her freckles, the coarse hair between her thighs, a healing scrape on one of her knees.

"Show me?" He asked, and the request served to purposes: He wanted to see her, to watch her give herself pleasure, but he also needed a bit of instruction. While he wasn't completely without knowledge, the fact of the matter was that he had no idea what he was doing.

A laugh bubbles up out of her at that, warm and fond as she slides her hand up his arm. With the added light, she can better see the smooth expanse of his skin, completely free of scars. All the scars she made.

Her hand slides up over his chest, trailing from one side to the other, and she pauses at his simple request. He sounds almost hopeful, and she finds herself completely enamored with his smooth voice coupled with his intense gaze and boyish sweep of his hair. She would do almost anything, she thinks, if he keeps looking at her like that.

She swallows hard and nods, relaxing back against the bed as she slides one hand down her belly, biting her lip as her fingertips slide through the short curls between her legs.

"Pay very close attention," she says in a warm, lilting voice, smiling up at him as she slides her fingers lower, almost surprised at the amount of wetness she finds there. A blush spreads across her cheeks, rushing down across her chest, but she keeps her eyes on his face as she circles that tight bud of nerves with her fingertip, gasping sharply when she finally allows herself to touch it.

Everything feels so much more intense with him here, staring at her, and she moans as she rubs at herself with tight little circles, hips jerking as she bites her lip. Usually this is enough for her, but sometimes she thinks of his fingers, so she lets out a shuddering breath and spreads herself open with her fingers, wrapping her legs more securely around him as she slowly sinks her middle finger inside of herself.

This doesn't always do much for her, but now it makes her clench down with need because he's so close, and she knows that he could make her body sing. She presses in deeply and grinds her palm against her clitoris, gasping as pleasure shoots through her body, making her nipples tighten as she arches her back.

"I imagined it was you," she admits, because what was once felt almost like a secret shame now feels like something she needs him to know. It's suddenly so important that he know.

What was left of his fragile control shattered, and he let out a strangled groan, his forehead dropping to rest against her own as he took a moment to catch his breath. His length, painfully hard, nudged against the crease of her hip.

Looking down between their bodies, he let his hand join hers, breathing deeply as he pressed the heel of his palm against the back of her hand, feeling the press of her hips as she rutted against the added friction.

He felt a rush of guilt, of regret, that he couldn't say the same. Before, he hadn't let it occur to him. For all his talk about the two of them being destined to be one, he had assumed their bond would be one of power and politics, and anything more he might've wanted was a product of his weakness. Now, in Darrow, he hadn't allowed himself to think of her, because it seemed a violation. He'd demanded so much from her, and killing his selfish fantasies of what she ought to be to him felt like the only way to put Kylo Ren to rest, once and for all.

But she was here now, asking, giving permission, and he was weak. But he thought, maybe, there were certain weaknesses worth nurturing.

His breath hitching, he found that he was able to slide a finger into her alongside her own, and he mimicked the movement of her hand, curling that long finger upward, deeper than she was able to manage on her own. "Let me," he asked breathlessly, and there was a base messiness to the act he'd never considered. The Jedi were not meant to give in to physical desires, and he understood for the first time how easily one might become obsessed with such things.

Rey can feel the moment that he gives himself over fully, like the final string holding him back has been cut. Her hands slide up his back as he leans in, fingers pressing into muscle as she pulls him closer, closer.

His mind is more open like this and Rey gasps at the rush of emotion she feels from him, shaking her head a little and shushing him with quiet reassurance. It's alright; he's here now.

The thick press of his finger makes her gasp, rocking up against the weight of his palm. This is the most she's ever been pressed open and he can reach so much deeper, to spots she couldn't. It's like nothing she's ever felt and she nods, thighs trembling as she pulls her hand away to grip his arm instead, feeling the muscles there flex as he curls his finger in a way that makes her let out a startled yelp.

She can feel his desire for her, like a fire out of control, and it only stokes her own need. Being wanted like this prods at some deep-seated ball of worry in her chest, her last shred of fear over being alone, and burns it away. She's free of it as long as she's here, with him. And she'll have to be, because he's a part of her.

At one time he wanted her to rule at his side, but this is how they were meant to be. Just them, just this. Now, she'll always be at his side. I'll never leave you.

"You need to tell me what you want," he admitted in a rush, his lips against the curve of her cheek. While he knew, the truth of it raging between them without a word needing to be spoken, it wasn't something he could take without first being asked.

"Tell me," he breathed, pleading desperately. Let me.

The back of his thumb brushed against the tight bundle of flesh he'd watched her touch moments before, and she jolted, her eyes wide and shining. He shifted the angle of his wrist, giving her more friction to press against.

Rey nods in understanding, swallowing hard as she clutches at him. It isn't just that he isn't sure what to do, and she lets out a shuddering breath as she cards her fingers through her hair, dragging her nails soothingly along his scalp. If he needs her to tell him what to do, she will.

"I'll show you," she says quietly, reaching between them to curl her hand around his wrist. With her other hand, she pushes at his shoulder until he pulls back enough to see where his finger is pressed so deeply into her body. She tugs at his wrist until the digit nearly leaves her body and then pulls him back in, watching his face as she sets an easy rhythm, rocking her hips up against his hand.

"Like this," she tells him breathlessly, nodding jerkily before letting out another soft moan. "Keep doing that with your thumb, and-- and give me another finger, but do it slowly."

Mouth parted, he took her instructions dutifully, propped up on one arm and seated nearly on his haunches as he watched his finger disappear inside of her, easier with each slide.

He was struck by the strange newness of the moment, the absurd normality of it, and he caught her eyes, a bright, crooked grin flickering across his face.

"Now neither of us are sleeping," he said, tentatively playful, even as he slid a second finger into her, just as she'd asked.

The smile on his face makes Rey nearly as breathless as the movement of his finger, and she relaxes her grip on his wrist so that she's merely holding on instead of guiding him.

"I'm sorry, are you tired?" She volleys back, encouraging the playfulness of his tone. Her mouth opens to say something else, but any words she may have formed are wiped completely from her mind as he presses a second finger into her body. There's a slight sting as her body adjusts to the stretch and she slides her fingers up from his wrist to spread more of her slick where she's spread open, pressing down on his knuckles to keep him from moving for a moment.

"You have such big hands," she murmurs, feeling a little dazed as her body clenches down around his fingers. After only a brief moment, she pulls her hand away to grip his wrist with wet fingers, urging him to continue. "Curl them in a little, like you did earlier. That felt--"

She doesn't get to finish before he complies and she lets out a strangled cry, hips jerking as he presses up a spot inside of her that makes her see stars. "I-- I didn't know that was there. Wow."

Her hips bucked, causing his hard length to slide along the crease of her thigh and he choked out a strangled gasp of his own. At her dazed exclamation, he laughed breathlessly, fondly, the pads of his fingers pressing upward against that place within her that seemed to set her alight.

"That's what this is about. Long fingers and a better angle," he observed wryly, grinning as he pressed in deeper, the pad of his thumb pressing against the tight, swollen bundle of nerves.

"Yes, only that," she huffs out with a grin of her own, feeling a rush of affection for him, pushing it out toward him because it's so important to her that he knows. He's worthy of it all.

Even as overwhelmed with pleasure as she is, it's impossible to miss the blunt press of him against her thigh. Her hand slides down his arm and she watches his face and she lightly drags the pads of two fingers down the length of it. The softness of the skin surprises her nearly as much as how hard it is, and she curls her fingers loosely around him even at the awkward angle.

That's going inside of her, she realizes. Very soon, this thick, rigid length will press into her body and it seems impossible that there would even be room, but she knows that she'll make space for him. He belongs there, inside of her body, and she lets out a choked moan as another wave of pleasure crashes over her.

It seems to build and build as he works her with his fingers, pressing at her clitoris with relentless pressure. Soon it becomes so intense that for a moment Rey feels almost frantic, like she can't possibly take anymore, and her hips jerk as she tries to pull away.

But then it reaches its peak and Rey cries out sharply, arching her back as her body spasms around Ben's fingers. It's a pleasure unlike anything she's ever felt, taking over her body in a way that leaves her in control of nothing. There isn't anything she can do but give into it and she lets herself ride the wave of it, feeling like she's adrift in an endless ocean as her thighs close tightly around him. "Oh-- oh, Ben."

His focus narrowed sharply to the smallest details, the reedy sound of her voice, the way her thighs trembled, the blunt press of her nails into his biceps, and the heady smell of her. Everything seemed to wind tighter and tighter, hanging for a long, still moment on the edge of a precipice, before he was able to watch her unravel there before his eyes.

He could feel it, too. The crest of her pleasure, washing over her again and again. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he fought suddenly against his own orgasm, his length jolting impatiently in the palm of her hand.

She was obscenely wet, his fingers sliding from her with an audible squelch. He wanted to bury his face there, to taste her— wanted it with such clarity that he knew she would be able to see it, in his mind. He groaned, hips twitching desperately, his slick hand moving to grip the sheets at her hip.

Ben leans over her again and Rey clutches at him desperately, wrapping her arms around his neck like he's an anchor as she fights her way back to the surface. She takes a breath, and then another, and then gasps as she sees the image in his mind.

The obscenity of it shocks her for the briefest moment, but then she pictures it as well, imagining what his tongue might feel like against her swollen clitoris.

Suddenly she's torn between two wants, and she has to decide which to pick. He's right there, thick and heavy between her legs, and he could press into her. She wants it desperately, but even in her haze of pleasure she remembers the pinch of his fingers.

"You want to use your mouth?" She pants the question, blinking owlishly as she reaches between them to wrap her fingers around his length again. Her hand can't even close around it fully and she swallows hard, doing her best to formulate a complete thought.

"You can, Ben. You can," she tells him, turning to press sloppy kisses to the side of his face. She's too overwhelmed with pleasure to be embarrassed, and she hums as she slides the length of him through her slick folds, easing the way of her hand. "You have to stretch me open more first. Three fingers, and-- and your mouth. Ben, your mouth. It's so beautiful."

Heaving himself off of her, he crawled lower on the bed, realizing vaguely that the two of them had sprawled diagonally across the mattress. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," he admitted with a boyish laugh, muffled against her hip, and slid his fingers into her again, this time to help work her open. Two, at first, then, as he kissed the inside of her thigh, a third, keeping them tucked in together to ease the press of them. This was the first time he felt any real resistance, and he moved slowly, methodically, and just as he felt her tense with discomfort, he buried his face between her legs, his mouth closing over her clitoris.

The taste of her was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Unpleasant, he thought, if it had been anyone but her. In fact, the idea of doing this with anyone else seemed utterly ludicrous.

Edited 2020-03-16 01:42 (UTC)

"Just a little longer," she promises with a soft laugh, pushing up onto her elbows as he moves down her body. "I want it. I just--"

She hisses slightly at the press of his thick fingers, but the sudden press of his mouth chases away the ache and she lets out a loud moan as her fingers tangle in his hair.

Her eyes are wide as she watches his plush lips press against her flesh, shining with her slick. The sight of it sends a flash of possessiveness through her, and she trails her hand reverently along his face. She doesn't own him. She doesn't control him, but he is still hers. They belong to each other, and she knows, she just knows that he'll be the only one to ever touch her like this.

His fingers press in deeply, brushing against that spot inside of her, and she feels her eyes roll back in her head as pleasure rockets through her again. Her abs tighten and she grips at his hair, crying out as her thighs tremble under his hands. She flutters around him again and her body demands more, more, all of him.

"Ben, come here." She pets uselessly at his hair, spreading her legs wider and yelping as his tongue drags over her clitoris again. "Please, please. I need to feel you. Please."

Edited 2020-03-16 01:49 (UTC)

"Okay, all right," he said, as if playfully indulging her impatience, and not equally desperate. Shifting away from her, he wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. He was still a bit taken aback by the smaller, awkward details of the way their bodies worked, and by how the messy complications of sex, which had always seemed more trouble than they were worth, seemed only to urge him on.

Crawling up her body, he found her looking wild and flushed, smiling with so much abandon and trust.

Taking himself in hand, he ducked down to kiss her as he rubbed the head of his length against the slick folds of her, his hips rolling tentatively to press inside. Logically, he knew that they had tumbled into this a bit too quickly. There were perhaps things they needed to say. But he felt in his heart that they understood one another. There were no secrets left, no miscommunications, no uncertainties.

He moved slowly, carefully, listening to her, feeling her, letting his mind flow into hers. No walls or pretenses left between them.

The soft press of his mouth to her quiets the rush of her mind, and she lets out a soft hum when she realizes that she can taste herself on his lips. It's so distracting that it's only the blunt press of him against her entrance that makes her pull away with a gasp.

There is some slight discomfort but it takes a backseat to the rightness of it all, his length pressing into her body. With him sliding into her and their bond thrown open, they truly are one body, one soul. One heart.

"Ben." She lets out a sob, but it isn't one of pain. More like she's just completely overwhelmed by it all, and she clutches at his shoulders as he rocks into her, little by little, until she can take all of him.

"Oh." He bottoms out, seeming to nudge against some place deep inside of her, and somehow she knows that he couldn't go any deeper. They're a perfect fit, a key in a lock, designed specifically for one another.

"Stay, for a second. Just like this," she gasps out, trembling all over as she takes a gulping breath and adjusts to the size of him, clenching down experimentally around his length.

"It feels so perfect." She doesn't realize that she's crying until she lets out another sob, feeling tears roll down her temples as she clings to him desperately. "Doesn't it, Ben?"

Breathe.

Repeated to himself, like a mantra. Breathe. Don't lose focus... Don't lose control... Breathe.

She was impossibly tight and searingly hot around him, her legs locked like a vice around his hips, her hands clutching at his shoulders with such strength that he might've noticed a bit of discomfort if not for... everything else. She sobbed and he choked out a sound of his own, panting almost frantically against the curve of her jaw.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded, a choked sound catching in the back of his throat. When he was sure he could breathe again, he lifted his head, touching her face with hands that felt clumsy, his fingers slipping through her hair. He gave her a watery smile, unable to find the words to tell her how it felt, but he knew he didn't have to. She felt it, too.

Breathe.

She catches the echo of his thoughts and makes herself listen as well, taking a deep breath and loosening her grasp. He's trembling slightly and she slides her hand up and down his back, up to into his hair, blunt nails dragging lightly across his scalp.

He pulls back a little and she nearly pulls him back down, but resists the urge when his big hand touches her face with a tenderness that makes her smile up at him.

All of her life was spent searching for a home, a place where she truly belonged, and she's found it in him. They've been through so much together and now they're here, connected as much as its possible for two people to be, and nothing has ever felt so right.

She lifts her head to press a kiss to his mouth, relaxing her desperate hold on him. After another shuddering breath, she rocks her hips a little and groans, arching her back as he moves inside of her.

"You can move," she tells him, reaching up to push his sweat-damp hair away from his forehead to tuck it behind his ear. "I want to feel you."

Only able to nod, Ben turned to kiss the palm of her hand, his breath stuttering in his chest as his hips gave their first tentative roll. With a low whine, he bottomed out again, and again, moving slowly, feeling the way she clenched around him, every gasp and every flinch, and adjusting accordingly.

"You didn't belong with me, Rey," he whispered into the shell of her ear. "You never did. I belonged with you. Always."

Before he'd known her, before she'd been born into existence, their fates were intertwined. But he's gotten it all wrong: She'd never been destined to rule at his side. He was destined to stand by hers.

Every slow thrust of him into her body sends sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine, pressing the air out of her like there isn't any room left in her for it. She would fight another war for this, she thinks.

His quiet words go straight through her chest and into her heart, making her eyes well up as she presses a kiss to his temple. Rey pushes at his shoulder, knowing that he'll let her move him wherever she wants. He slides out of her and she has to bite back an anguished noise, pushing him onto his back and climbing astride his hips.

"We're together now," she assures him, reaching down to wrap her fingers around his length so she can sink back down onto him. He seems to go even deeper in this position, and she tosses her head back with a moan as she swivels her hips.

"Right where we're supposed to be." Bracing one hand on his chest, she leans over him, kissing him deeply as she drags her hips up, whimpering brokenly into his mouth as her body shudders. "This is where you belong, Ben. Where I belong, always. Right here."

Edited 2020-03-16 04:06 (UTC)

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