strongerthanblood | [for ben]

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ben solo

[for ben]

When Rey first arrived in Darrow, she had been a bit overwhelmed by all the amenities suddenly at her disposal. Running water was what confounded her the most, because it stunned her to see something so precious just always there, whenever she wanted it. For the first few days, she was careful to waste as little as possible, but as time passed she eased up bit by bit, until a quick shower stopped making her feel guilty.

This shower, the one she's taking now, isn't quick. She had worked in the junk yard all day, tearing apart a car and putting it back together entirely by hand, under the watchful eye of the owner. He had seemed impressed, and begrudgingly offered her use of the space as long as she paid for the entrance fee and any parts she broke.

The day's events had left her dirty and sore, so she takes her time in the shower, washing herself clean and letting the hot water loosen her muscles. The more she relaxes, the more her thoughts start to drift. And they drift, as they so often do, to Ben.

She hasn't seen him over the past few days, as busy as she's been with her study of mechanics, and she misses him. He's there, in this city and in her mind, but she misses him still. Right now, specifically, she misses his mouth. It's practically sinful, that mouth, and Rey leans back against the cool tile, letting her eyes fall shut as her hand slides down her flat stomach, drifting lower and lower.

Touching herself doesn't hold quite the same appeal now that she knows what it's like to have Ben touch her, but maybe it is because of that knowledge that heat flares between her legs more often than it ever has. Rey didn't have time for such trivial things on Jakku, but know she does. Now she knows.

So she lets her fingers drift down between her legs, letting out a soft sigh as she thinks of him. The other half of her dyad. The other part of her, and his beautiful, beautiful mouth.

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Ben's days were quiet, idle, full of indecision and an a growing sense of listlessness. Over the last seven years, he'd had a driving purpose, but now, he needed to find a new one. What that purpose might be, without Palpatine whispering in his ear, without the world pulling him in one direction of the other, he could not know for sure. It was frustrating, and troublesome, but that evening, he turned his focus on making dinner, shutting out the disquiet of his own mind just just a few hours of peace.

What troubled him the most, perhaps, was that he missed her. She was there, always, the presence of her felt like a tug behind his breastbone, but still, he missed her.

Drawing in a steeling breath, he watched his ham and cheese sandwich brown in the pan on the stove in front of him, spatula poised to turn the bread over, when—

Suddenly, she was there, leaning against the counter, dripping wet and touching herself. He blinked at her, spatula awkwardly in one hand. Though he stood in his kitchen, he could feel the warm water bouncing off of her skin. A drop landed on the back of his bare foot with an audible pap.

"Rey."

There is a small part of Rey that wonders if it's wrong to fantasize about Ben so deliberately, with such purpose, without him knowing about it. It may be a silly thought considering what they are to each other, let alone what they've done to each other, but she still has it.

It's just as she's letting out guilty little moan that she hears him say her name, and her eyes fly open to see him standing there, fully clothed, at the other end of her shower. Rey lets out a shriek of surprise and flails, arms pinwheeling a bit as her feet slip on the slick surface.

The shock of it makes her feel as if she's been caught doing something bad, and on instinct she covers her breasts with one arm and cups her hand between her legs as she blushes from head to toe.

It's stupid. She knows that it's stupid, considering that he's done much more than see her naked, but it's all still so new and getting caught like this is embarrassing, because he has to know what she was doing. Of course he knows.

"Uh--" She swallows hard and leans back against the wet tile, breathing hard. "Hi."

Edited 2020-04-02 02:39 (UTC)

"Hi," he echoed, lips quirking into a lopsided smile. Splotches of red broke out on her chest, her cheeks, her petite hands barely enough to cover herself as she stood there, dripping on the linoleum.

"Am I interrupting?"

His nose twitched, then, filled with the faint but acrid stench of smoke, and he jolted, turning to quickly flip his sandwich before it burned too badly.

“Maybe!” He smiles at her and Rey quickly recovers from the surprise, relaxing slightly and letting her arms fall back to her sides, baring herself to him. Just as she does, he jerks away and Rey furrows her brow until she finally notices the spatula in his hand.

“Are you cooking something?” The answer becomes clear as she watches him tend to something she cannot see, and for a moment she feels torn. On the one hand, knowing that he can cook only stokes her desire for him, but on the other, he’s cooking alone. “And you didn’t invite me over?”

Rey gives him a cool look that’s mostly for show, and then shrugs her shoulders as she relaxes back against the warm tile again. Her expression goes a bit playful as she lets her hands return to chest, but this time it isn’t to cover them up. She cups them instead, thumbing the curve of them before pinching at her nipples with a soft sigh.

“Go on, then,” she says with a jerk of her chin, sliding one hand down between her legs to rub leisurely at her clitoris. “Finish your meal.”

Edited 2020-04-03 02:30 (UTC)

"Maybe I didn't want you dripping on my tile," he said casually, drawing in a breath and carefully setting the spatula down next to the pan.

There was something vaguely ridiculous about the moment, him standing in front of a grilling sandwich and her appearing just feet away, touching herself so wantonly.

"Is that what you're going to do now?" He asked, amusement tinging his otherwise toneless voice. "Pop in whenever you need an itch scratched?" There was something of an edge to it, the old, familiar bite of their banter without the cruelty.

The question makes her pause, hands stilling, because it brings back that slithery rush of guilt she had felt before she was even standing in front of him. For a moment she even considers closing the bond, but instead she reaches out and turns off the shower without looking away from him.

“Perhaps you should take it as a compliment,” she tells him, moving her hands until they rest instead on her slender hips. “The enormity of my desire calls you into existence.”

Embarrassment finds her again because so far that’s been one-sided, and he hadn’t exactly seemed overcome by the sight of her, naked and openly wanting. She reminds herself what good control he has over himself, whereas she seems to have very little, and doesn’t let it get to her.

“But I could leave you to your food, if you’d rather,” she tells him, smiling in a way that looks more like a snarl. “And scratch my own itch.”

"You were always freer with your mind, than I was with mine," he admitted, reaching out to turn off the stove and moving the pan off of the burner entirely. Calmly, he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, then turned, stepping towards her, through the puddle she'd made on the floor.

She was guarded, but not enough to hide the surge of her embarrassment. He put a hand on her waist, the touch feeling a bit like trying to calm a wild animal.

She frightened him. Few people could claim such a feat. The enormity of her. What he would do for her. What he felt for her. His control was a hastily constructed house of cards. She frightened him, because she knew how easily she could pull it all down, even if she sometimes forgot.

He crowded in close, his lips against her temple. "I think I might've made it for you," he admitted, quirking a smile as he ducked down to press a kiss to the top of her shoulder. "But you'll have to come here and get it."

She was always freer than him in a lot of ways, because she never had anyone's voice in her head. She has the good sense not to say this, or even think it very loud, watching as he moves himself with such strict purpose, like every flex of muscle is planned before it happens. She could train forever, she's sure, and never achieve such control over herself.

But then he steps toward her with that same purpose and she takes a breath, feeling pinned down by the way he looks at her. It was foolish of her, even with her deep seated insecurities, to think for even a moment that her immense desire of him wasn't reciprocated in full.

His mouth touches her wet skin and she relaxes, relents, leaning in closer to him until his clothes stick to her wet skin. A soft huff of laughter escapes her as she reaches up to curl her hand around the back his neck, fingers buried in his hair.

"And what was I supposed to do, smell it from here?" She tips her chin up and guides his face gently to the curve of her throat, resting her other hand over his where it grips her hip. "You've got a funny way of asking a girl over for dinner, then."

"I didn't realize I was making it for you," he admitted. This time, it was his turn to be embarrassed. Over the last weeks, he found himself doing things he normally wouldn't. Considering the things she might like, savoring things he might have normally taken for granted. He'd bought new, softer sheets for his bed, he'd tucked a box of tea into his cupboard.

"I have a funny way of doing everything," he pointed out, kissing the hollow of her throat. "And so do you."

He kissed the underside of her chin, the curve of her throat, then lower, the flat of her breastbone, the valley between her breasts. Then, he lowered himself to his knees there in his kitchen, his cheek pressed against the flat of her belly, her skin slick from her shower and covered with goosebumps.

With a huff of laughter, he lifted his head to look at her, his chin resting against her belly. "It's harder to ask you to be with me, when it's not under the guise of corrupting you."

His touches feel different through the bond, like she's feeling them somewhere deeper inside of herself, and not just on her skin. It feels a little like he's touching her everywhere, all at once, and she lets out a shuddering breath as he speaks against her wet skin.

Sometimes it makes her want to cry, how sweet he can be. Ben Solo can be so thoughtful, so kind, and it breaks her heart that these qualities weren't the ones encouraged and nurtured in him. Of course, she's a little biased, because she knows that he wouldn't be nearly as sweet with anyone that wasn't her, but this only makes her cherish him even more.

Her eyes widen slightly when he sinks to his knees, but her expression holds nothing but fondness by the time he looks up at her. She cups his cheek, thumbing under his eye before smoothing his hair back from his face.

With him on his knees for her, she thinks she knows what it feels like to be worshipped. "I think you'd have a little more success this time," she tells him, smiling as her fingers trail along the curve of his jaw.

"I'll tell you a secret, Ben." Rey squeezes his hand where it still rests on her hip, and then slides her hand along his strong forearm while the other grips the back of his neck. "I always want to be with you."

"I know," he admitted, the air drawn from his lungs with one sharp twist, overwhelmed by the weight of the trust and the faith she had in him, given without ever being earned. He wondered if he would ever feel worthy of this, and feared that day, if it ever came, because it would mean he'd given in to arrogance and hubris all over again.

He kissed her, the flat of her belly, catching a drop of water from her navel.

"Come over," he murmured, "I'll make another sandwich. I burned this one."

There is a chill in the bathroom, now that she's standing there wet and naked, but she barely notices it because Ben is lavishing her with attention the likes of which she could never have dreamed. She hadn't known that she could feel like this, and she nods as she presses back on his shoulders until he rests on his haunches. She sinks down to straddle his lap, cupping his cheeks so she can be eye to eye with him when she smiles.

"I want extra cheese," she tells him in the same tone that she might tell him that she loves him, and then kisses him on the mouth, soft and lingering, just barely touching the tip of her tongue to the seam of his lips before closing the bond. Suddenly she's alone on the floor of her shower, and she can't help but to let out a breathless laugh.

What a wonderful adventure her life has become.

Rey wastes no time in drying off and getting dressed, scrubbing a towel through her hair as she collects her phone and her keys. She won't be coming back here tonight if she has any say in it, but she doesn't bother taking anything else with her. She's a woman of simple needs, and it isn't as if she'll need pajamas.

She makes it one block before she breaks into a jog, grinning because she now knows what it feels like to be on the other side of this particular journey. Running to him feels so completely right, and shes's grinning and breathless by the time she knocks on his door.

He blinked, left a bit breathless and disoriented by her kiss, and the loss of her afterward. He could still feel her, a distant echo, her excitement and anticipation ringing out clearly through the Force, and as he stood, he was unable to suppress his smile.

Instead of dumping the sandwich in the garbage, he polished it off quickly as he went about preparing another. Her knock came just as he slid the perfectly grilled sandwich onto a plate.

"Come in," he called, opening the lock with an easy, if indulgent, flex of his mind.

Rey's hand is on the knob as soon as she hears the lock, and she lets herself in and kicks her shoes off in the vague direction of the corner as she follows her nose and her mind to the kitchen, where Ben is.

"I like this view," she says happily, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly as she presses her face between his shoulder blades. "You should cook for me more often. They say stomachs are the door to the heart."

She ducks under his arm and takes the plate from him, wiggling her shoulders a bit before taking a bite of the sandwich. When she looks up at his face, she sees that his already distracting mouth is a little shiny. "Did you eat the burned one?"

"Do they?" He said wryly, stifling a smirk at her excitement, which was more charming than it had any right to be.

"It wasn't completely ruined," he said, shrugging vaguely as he leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

Her hair was still damp, strands of it framing her face, her cheeks pink from her walk over. He ached to touch her.

“This is very good,” Rey tells him, eating the sandwich as she leans back against the oven. He has his arms crossed and she still feels a little embarrassed from earlier, so it makes her wonder if the position is meant to keep her at bay.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Rey says quietly, because she can’t stop thinking what Ben had said. He had been teasing her, she thinks, but she still wants to make sure. “I don’t just want to see you only when I want— an itch scratched.”

Her cheeks flush and she averts her gaze, staring at a dark mole on his neck instead of looking him in the eye. “It’s just harder to control my mind when I feel like that, and you’re the only one who ever has made me feel like that.”

The only one who ever could.

It’s a rather embarrassing lack of control and she lets out a breath before finally looking up and giving him a small smile. “I’ll try to work on it.”

"You're sorry?"

He frowned, uncomprehending. His head cocked, taking stock of the anxiety he could feel from her, the sickly coil of shame slithering its way through their bond.

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

One corner of his mouth twitched vaguely.

"My night got a whole lot better, because you turned up in my kitchen." His smile widened, just a bit. "Naked."

Relief floods through Rey and she smiles over at him, feeling herself flush even more than she might have were she actually naked. They aren’t currently lost in each other and driven by lust, and it makes everything feel much more deliberate.

She had been embarrassed because she knows very little about sex, and has no idea if it’s normal to feel so overcome by need as she does sometimes with him, to the point that she would touch herself so wantonly in his presence. Now she’s realizing that it doesn’t matter if she’s normal or not. What matters is his acceptance of her just as she is, and she gives him a pleased smile as she finishes the rest of her sandwich.

After setting the plate on the counter and wiping her hands, she steps up to Ben and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest and breathing in before tipping her head back to look at him, chin resting against his sternum.

“Maybe you can have me naked somewhere else later,” she tells him, thrilled by her boldness as she takes his hand and leads him over to the sofa, looking over her shoulder at him. “If you’re good.”

"And what does being good entail?" He asked, brow arched as he followed her into the living room, playing up his skepticism all for show. He'd made the decision to live whatever life he had left at her side, and it was unlikely that he would ever deny her what she asked of him.

Pulling away from her, he sat on the sofa, hands resting calmly on his knees.

“Just being here with me,” Rey says as she steps between his knees, because she doesn’t want to put any conditions on their time together, even if they’re only playing. She is already his, and he doesn’t have to do anything to have her.

He looks interested, perhaps even a little eager with his hands on his knees, and Rey smiles warmly as she pushes his hands away so that she can straddle his hips. Her hands go to his shoulders, framing each side of his neck as she settles her backside into the cradle of his thighs. “But I wouldn’t mind it if you kissed me.”

His hands found her hips, the swell of them beneath a waist narrow enough that he could nearly span in entirely between the circle of his fingers. Tipping up his chin, he met her eyes, his expression clear and unguarded.

His nose brushed hers, feeling the flutter of her breath against his lips, dragging the moment out until it was sweet and aching. When his lips pressed against hers, it was soft, shallow, a tender acceptance that this was inevitable from the moment she'd first appeared in his kitchen.

Their eyes meet and Rey's breath hitches slightly, because the emotion swirling in Ben's is always just a little overwhelming. No one has ever looked at her like he has. Other then letting her thumbs brush along his jaw, Rey stays still and lets Ben come to her.

Despite the declarations they've made to each other, Ben still seems a bit hesitant with this. He always lets her be the one to initiate things, and surely some of it is a show of respect but perhaps it's also that he thinks he can only have what she will give him, like even that is too much.

She wants him to know that he can reach for her if he needs her, or even only wants her, and that it's okay. He's allowed to have her, and sugar in his coffee, and soft blankets. He can kiss her whenever he wants.

Their mouths meet and Rey's chest aches at how sweet it is, and she sinks her fingers into his soft hair as she relaxes against him, letting her contentment and eagerness radiate through their bond. They swap long, languid kisses until Rey's lungs burn and she pulls back to smile at him.

He's so good at kissing her. It isn't like either of them have experience to go on, but it isn't that he's good at kissing. He's good at kissing her, and she brings their mouths together again before dipping her head to kiss along his jaw, swollen lips brushing his ear. "Can I stay the night?"

Edited 2020-04-26 03:16 (UTC)

"As much as I was enjoying the solitude," he said wryly, his thumb smudging across her swollen lips, "You'll ruin my night, if you don't."

He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, palm against her spine, feeling the way her ribs expanded with each breath. He matched each breath with his own, his nose brushing her cheek, feeling her through every cell in his body.

“We wouldn’t want that,” Rey replies, smiling against the pad of his thumb. She unzips her sweatshirt and wriggles out of it, tossing it aside before leaning in for another kiss. His hand slides further up the thin tank she’s wearing, and she pulls back enough to tug Ben’s shirt over his head, baring all that pale skin to her.

Their chests rise and fall in unison and Rey smiles against his jaw, taking a moment to revel in this outstanding togetherness, and how they slot together so seamlessly. Rey doesn’t think that she could ever truly get used to it, even as familiar as it is becoming. It will always invoke a sense of wonder.

Her mouth finds the top of his shoulder as she presses his thighs apart so that she can sink gracefully to her knees on the floor, resting her chin on his knee and looking up at him with a soft, open expression. “I want to try something.”

Ben knew exactly what she meant to do, because her mind was filled with it. Her nervousness, her determination, the same stubborn, single-mindedness that he'd found both infuriating and desperately intriguing.

"Alright," he said, one corner of his mouth twitching faintly. "Don't let me stop you."

He appeared calm, outwardly unaffected, but when he swallowed, his throat gave an audible click, his mouth suddenly dry, sweating palms coming to rest atop his own thighs.

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