Chapter Text
Rey refuses to apparate with him. Watching him pass through the fire was one thing, but to take his hand—to be so open and trusting with him—she can’t do it.
He’s annoyed by her refusal, his frustration evident in the way he works his jaw and fixates his steely gaze on a nearby tree trunk rather than anywhere near Rey.
The flames disappeared, and for a few moments they stood in the heart of the forest, engulfed in darkness. She didn’t offer to summon light, and he made no move to grab his wand. So, they stood at a stalemate, neither party willing to give into the other.
“Why can’t you just tell me-” Rey begins to try again, exasperation etched into her voice.
“I told you, I can’t.” It’s the same, gruff excuse he’s been providing, which does nothing to answer her question. “We need to move , need to get somewhere safe before they-”
“Who!?” Rey presses on, but then he just answers her with a growl, and she knows they’ve once again circled back to square one.
So, she walks..
“Where are you going!?” Ben hisses at her through the dark, and she can feel the fire in his gaze, burning a hole into her retreating figure.
“I’m not apparating with you. You don’t want to tell me what’s going on. We’re getting nowhere and I’m not going to just stand in the middle of the fucking forest for the rest of the night. I need to get back to my team-”
“They’re too far away.”
She whips around, and a twig cracks beneath her foot. “How do you know?”
“I apparated us here. When I found you, you were up towards the northern part of Poland, about a day or two from the border. We’re at the southern end now.”
A day or two from the border? They had been so close. They only had to get across the border, slip into the northern part of Belarus, and onto the final stretch of their journey—the very last leg before they would reach the giant encampment.
And now...now the mission was compromised, the team fractured and separated, and the backpack…
Shit, her backpack!
“ Lumos .” A soft glow erupts from the tip of her wand, and Rey holds it out, casting the light over the ground, her eyes scanning and searching. She had been reaching for the backpack when Ben had, in turn, grabbed her. She felt the strap in her fingertips. She had a hold of it. It had to have made the jump with her. If that rucksack had gotten bloody splinched…
“What the fuck!?” He’s rushing towards her, reaching out to try and cover the light on the end of her wand with his hand. “You’re going to give us away. Do you want us to get caught?!”
“Me? No.” Rey jerks her wand out of his grasp, pushing past him, her free hand making contact with his shoulder as she gives him a sharp shove. “You? That’s still up for debate.”
He growls again. “Can you stop that?!” Rey whips her head around, serving him with a withering glare, not that it matters much in the dark. “I can’t focus when you-”
“When I what?!”
Now it’s her turn to groan in frustration. Her fingertips burn from where she had touched him, and Rey gives her hand a shake. She needs to get her shit together, needs to focus.
“I was getting a backpack.” Rey changes the topic. “I had just grabbing a hold of it when you tackled me. I need to find it. The whole mission, the fucking war—I just—I need to find that backpack.”
Rey expects him to argue with her, to tell her to forget it and that they need to get a move on. But to her surprise, he doesn’t say a word. Glancing over her shoulder, Rey can make out the outline of his form, hunched over, looking at the ground.
He’s helping her, s realizes. For a moment, all she can do is blink and stare. He must feel her gaze, because soon he’s looking right back at her, his brow slightly raised in question.
She turns back to the search, ignoring the flush of her cheeks, a tries to focus once more on locating the knapsack. Scanning the ground, she sees a piece of brown amongst all the lush green. She surges forward, quickly grasping hold of it, pulls it from the ground and…
“I got it!” It’s the bag. Covered in some dirt and fallen leaves, but still what she had been looking for. Rey quickly checks its contents, and only once she sees that everything is in its proper place does she retie the flap and toss the bag over her shoulder.
“Will you come with me now?” Ben asks, standing a few steps from her, his hand outstretched. Once more she hesitates. Do you trust me , his eyes say, but she can’t help but to eye his offered hand with apprehension.
Despite her brain yelling for her to flee, to turn around, keep walking, and never to look bac—Rey still hears the way she screamed as he walked through the flames. The memory echos in her mind. The worry she felt was fresh in her mind. Her fear that something irreversible—something that even magic couldn’t undo—would occur still lingered in her heart.
“Fine,” The word comes out like a resignation rather than a choice. There’s more venom in her voice than what she truly feels, because the last thing she wants is for Ben to think he has the upper hand—that he’s going to pull one over on her yet again.
Rey can’t deny the warmth that radiates through his sleeve as her fingers curl around his forearm. Her other hand grips the knapsack, knuckles pale as she tightens her hold. She can’t lose it, she can’t let this mission fail, no matter what hiccups had risen along the way.
There’s a familiar tug in her stomach, a loud crack, and then it’s nothing but darkness. Her body is once more shoved into that metaphorically tiny box, pressed and pushed into she’s feeling pressure at all angles—-impossibly compressed and small.
The sensation is intense, but only lasts for a moment before she’s landing on wobbling legs. Her hand is still clenched tightly around his arm, as if he is the anchor that’s holding her in place, her one light to guide her through the storm.
“You okay?” He asks in that familiar low rumble, and she instantly jumps back, both craving and hating the new distance between them .
“I’m fine.” Rey mumbles as she looks around and her eyes adjust to the darkness. They’re at the base of the moment, standing at the mouth of a small cave. It’s hard to tell where they are, and she sees nothing but forest around them. The rocks and trees look similar to what they left behind, though the sparse foliage tells her they definitely went somewhere .
She can’t tell if they had traveled a few feet or many miles, if they’re still in Poland, or halfway across the world. The feeling makes her feel uneasy. Guilt gnaws in the back of her mind, knowing that Finn and Jannah are still out there and might be risking their covers, and their lives to try and find her.
Rey can’t dwell on that right now. No, she has to keep moving, she has to keep pressing forward, and—right now—it seems that her success is lying on the shoulders of Ben Solo.
He leads the way, turning to head into the cave and she begins to follow. Stowed away against the stony wall are a few canvas bags, all varying in shape and size, while the remnants of a fire lie in the center of the floor. Withdrawing a muggle lighter from his pocket, Ben fiddles with it and the kindling until he’s coaxed a large enough fire to provide them with light and warmth.
Silently he sets to work, unpacking a few pieces of aluminum cookware, all of which appear to have seen better days. Packets of food are next, and he’s tearing the crinkly bags open with his teeth, discarding the trash carelessly to the floor of the cave. She stands there, frozen and uncertain. Should she go? Take off running and hope she can find her way back to Finn and Jannah? Or, should she give him the benefit of the doubt, give him a chance to explain.
Once again Rey has found herself stuck, as if straddling a line.
He makes the decision easy for her, tossing a water bottle at her as he jerks his head towards a rumpled sleeping bag in the corner. “Sit.”
His command causes irritation to prickle at the base of her neck. She won’t pretend that she’s not parched, and dehydration is hardly going to influence the situation one way or another. Slowly she untwists the cap off of the bottle and raises it to her lips. She drinks for a long time. The water isn’t ice cold, but it still feels good, and does the job to quench her thirst.
It’s buying her some time, giving her a chance to figure out exactly what she wants to say. In the end, curiosity beats out any sense of duty or her mission.
“You’re not using magic,” she blurts out, waving a hand where Ben has rigged a pot above the crackling flames. “We could be eating by now. Here-” She reaches for her wand, and her fingers barely curl around it when he’s standing before her. He rests his hand gently on her arm, stalling her motions.
“Snoke’s able to track magic. Don’t ask me how. He’s got this thing, this dark magic relic that he calls a wayfinder.” Ben’s back at the fire again, crouching down to stir the contents of the large pot. “It works better if he has a piece of you, strand of your hair, or a drop of your blood. Polyjuice potion type shit. But, with it, he can pick up on magic in remote areas more easily.”
“And you don’t want Snoke to find you?”
“No,” He shakes his head, his eyes darting towards her. “I don’t want Snoke to find you .”
They both fall silent, with only the noise of the crackling fire and the distant hum of the forest outside filling the air. Finally, the urge to sit outweighs her stubbornness to ignore his order, and she lowers herself onto the sleeping bag, tucking her feet beneath her, as she sets the water bottle on the ground beside her.
Her gaze turns to him, raking over every inch of his form, from the way his hair seems longer now, the thick tressels curling at the ends as they brush against the top of his shoulders, to the way the long sleeve henley still stretches across his broad back, though perhaps not as snugly as it once had. Even in the dim firelight, she can make out gaunt shadows beneath his eyes, and though he still seems too large for any space, let alone the cramped cave in which they currently reside, he seems thinner too. The hard lines of his face seem sharper, much like the point of a brand new blade.
He’s been out here for a while , she concludes. It’she only assumption that seems to tick all the boxes. It would explain the amount of supplies, and the way he seems to know how to cook the fire with precision despite the lack of magic to aid him.
Rey curls her arms around her legs, bringing her chin to rest on top of her knees. Her eyes remain traced on him, taking in his movements as she tries to document every little change about his appearance in her mind.
It feels strange too, to have this distance between them, especially after weeks of only having one another for company at Grimmauld Place—-when they went from close companions to something else, something more but hard to pinpoint and define. Friends seemed too weak of a term, whereas boyfriend or partner didn’t seem right either, the former feeling juvenile, as if they’re back at Hogwarts, making plans for weekends at Hogsmeade and holding hands as they stroll around the Great Lake.
As for the latter…partner implied an equal footing, a sense of comradery, a level of cooperation and an alliance. It would mean they were working together for a common goal.
Which could not be further from the truth. And yet… and yet …
Only those who mean to do you no harm can pass through the flame.
“What are you doing here Ben?”
His fingers stutter over the handle of the pot at the sound of his name. It fell from her lips with such ease, as easily as it had when they had been a tangle of bare limbs in his bed back at Grimmauld Place.
“I told you.” He clears his throat, still bustling around, adjusting the pot over the flames before he stokes at the flame—busy work—something to keep his hands active, and his gaze away from hers.
“You didn’t. You just said you don’t want Snoke to find me.”
A heavy breath exhales from his lips, and she can’t help but to take in the rigid line of his back, his shoulders taut with tension. He doesn’t answer and Rey doesn’t press, torn between curiosity, and not wanting to know. After all, he could be on a mission for Snoke—assigned to derail Rey’s own assignment. Or maybe it’s all a mute point. Maybe the giants have already sided with the First Order. Maybe they were too late, and were always going to be too late, setting out on a doomed mission from the start.
“Here.” A tin mug, it’s sides sporting a variety of dimples and bends, is held out in front of her face. She accepts it, glad for the warmth it radiates across her palms and down each of her fingers, restoring feeling into them once more. As her stomach lets out a low growl, Rey realizes just how hungry she is.
The meal leaves much to be desired in both appearance and taste, but it’s hot and it’s food . She burns her tongue in haste as she begins to shovel bite after bite in, even as she coughs and sputters when it burns on its way down her throat.
They both eat in silence, metal spoons scraping against the bottom and sides of the tin cups. The food isn’t that bad , Rey realizes. She had eaten much worse for muggle school lunches, though after so many years of being spoiled on the feasts at Hogwarts, her palette has become much more refined than it once had been.
But food is food, and before long, she’s scraping up every last bite out of the mug—her belly feeling full and satisfied. In quiet unison they wash the mugs and cookware, the tasks feeling oddly domestic despite their unusual situation and surroundings. Before long, Rey is back on the unfurled sleeping bag, drawing half of the unzipped material over her shoulders, like a makeshift blanket. Ben takes longer to settle, but eventually he finds a seat on the floor of the cave a few feet to her right. He’s staring at the fire, but once again, Rey finds herself staring at him.
He must feel her gaze. He shifts, bending his knees, his chin brushing against them as he mirrors her earlier position. He looks younger that way, so much more like the boy she had once known.
Then again, she hadn’t known him. Not at Hogwarts, not even now. She had looked, had studied and stared at him, had learned everything she could from distant observation. Her ears had perked whenever his name had been brought up at Slytherin’s table in the Great Hall andher head had whipped around when she caught sight of a familiar gangly form down the corridor.
She didn’t know him. No, not really. And yet…
“I always looked for you. Back at school. I noticed you from the first time I stepped into the Great Hall. I was nervous, didn’t know what to expect. No one would tell us about the sorting ceremony, not even the kids with older brothers and sisters who had gone through it.” She continues to stare at him, her eyes fixated on his profile. There’s a shift of his jaw, a movement of his lips but no other response or acknowledgement.
So, Rey carries on. “My stomach was in knots. I felt like I was going to be sick all over my new robes. Everything felt like a dream—from the moment I got my letter, to walking onto the platform at King’s Cross.” She remembers pinching the inside of her wrist repeatedly, constantly trying to prove that this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some wild figment of her imagination. By the time she had seen the castle, she had drawn blood.
“I kept looking everywhere, kept trying to take it all in. The amount of students, the way some of the teachers looked, the candles floating in the air, and the way the ceiling looked like the night’s sky.” Her tongue darts out, wetting her dry, cracked lips as she loops her arms around her legs, drawing them closer to her chest. “Then I saw you.”
His eyes flicker to hers.
“You were at the blue table. Or at least that's what I had called it. I didn’t know what the hell a Ravenclaw was. A little separate from the rest, off by yourself. Alone . You were watching the ceremony, and you looked so—you looked serious. More serious than any kid I’d ever seen. You looked so cross, and I just remember my eyes landing on you. I just couldn’t look away, and then—”
A soft smile spreads over her lips, her body flushes with a feeling of fondness and warmth as she remembers. “You smiled at me. Not much. Hell, it wasn’t more than a twitch of your lips. I thought I was imagining it, because the next thing I knew, you were looking down at the table and running your fingers through your hair but it- it was enough. It was like you were letting me know that it was all going to be okay. I had felt so alone and-”
His expression hasn’t changed, still stoic while his posture is unyielding. “You weren’t alone.” Ben murmurs, and the rumble of his deep baritone sends an achingly familiar chill down her spine.
“No,” Rey shakes her head, a strand of hair falling from her braid to frame her face. “And neither were you.”
Something else crackles in the air. Something more than just the logs shifting or the flames lapping at the air. Something with them, something within them. He’s the first one to reach out, to extend his arm until his hand is hovering, midway between them. Her eyes dart to it, once again she licks her lips and then she’s mirroring the action, drawing her arm from the warmth and comfort of the sleeping bag.
Their hands meet, their fingers barely brush against each other, barely touch, yet it is somehow both way too much and not enough.
Her fingertips slide against his, moving along the length of the digits until they run over his palm, feeling the lines and grooves along his calloused skin. The sound of her heartbeat drums in her ears, and she inhales a sharp breath.
His eyes remain locked with hers, neither of them willing to look away.
“What are you doing here, Ben?” Rey presses again.
This time, he answers.
Their hands are still touching, his fingertips brush against the top of her wrist. Somehow their bodies have become closer, drawn together bit by bit.
“Snoke.” His voice sounds hoarse, as if it hasn’t been used in so long. “The double agent thing. I was supposed to keep an eye out for Resistance members, but I was under strict orders not to interfere. He wanted to make sure you reached the giants. He wanted to divert your attention, waste your time—”
His words trail off, but Rey understands what he’s saying, and is able to fill in the blanks. It’s not a son’s bond with his mother. Not entirely, at least. Once again an image of Ben flashes in her mind, of him seated in the basement of Grimmauld Place on that wooden chair, spilling secret upon secret. Even if he had been using Occulumancy, even if he had planned to fake the effects of Veritaserum the entire time, something inside told Rey to believe him now.
“The giants have already sided with the First Order. Snoke already has them in his pocket.”
Ben nods, a strand of dark hair falling forward towards his eyes. Out of pure instinct, almost like a reflex, Rey reaches forward and tucks the lock back into place with her free hand. He comes up, catches her wrist in his grip just as her fingers had begun to descent, brushing against his cheek in the process.
“I know what you’re going to do.” Their sitting so much closer now, faces merely inches apart. “I know you want to go find your friends, to warn them to stay away, but you can’t.”
“I can’t let them walk into a trap—”
“You have to,” Ben argues, shaking his head. His grip is still firm on her wrist but Rey knows if she jerks away, if she provides any resistance, he would let go. “Leia knows.”
Her stomach gives a small lurch, her brow furrows in confusion. “Leia? What do you mean she knows?”
His grip relaxes, and before Rey knows it, both of his hands are cradling hers, shifting and twisting until each set of fingers has become entwined. It startles her how natural it feels, how easy of a gesture it is to hold someone’s hand—- his hand . She feels like a silly lovestruck teenager, like they’re back at Hogwarts, ready for a weekend in Hogsmeade Village. And for a moment, she can do nothing but dip her head, to drop her gaze to their laced fingers and stare.
“I reached out to her before I saw you in the woods. I don’t know what the fuck I thinking. I offered to be a double agent, but she turned me down. She told me if I wanted to help I would need to prove it, to come back once I had intel that could help with the war. Once I had that, I could try and reach out to her again.”
“That’s how you got into Grimmauld place.” Her eyes lift to his. “That was the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t make sense. How you could get in. But she had given you the address. She hadn’t trusted you, but she told you about the headquarters.”
Ben nods. “It was still being used very sporadically for meetings. She gets notified of every person that crosses that threshold, and I couldn’t tell anyone else about the location so—”
“So that’s why you took me there, after we met in the woods.”
“Yeah,” He’s nodding again, his head bobbing in a slow, rhythmic movement. “That’s why I took you there.”
For a moment all they can do is stare at one another, hands still connected as their faces hover so close and near. The pad of her thumb brushes over the back of his hand, moving back and forth in a soft, rhythmic manner that she’s not entirely sure if it’s more soothing her or him.
“You can’t go after them.” Ben presses again, his grip tightening. “I know you want to because they’re your friends, but you have to trust me on this.”
He doesn’t offer up any other reasoning or information, most likely because none of it is good news, and would only fuel Rey’s desire to run wildly into the night in search of Finn and Jannah. So, instead, she just nods, hating the feeling of guilt that continues to gnaw at her stomach, and doing her best to push it aside.
Patience. That had been something discussed at great lengths during her auror training. She just needed to be patient. Finn and Jannah were both smart and capable. Perhaps, they had even turned around and had gone back for help…
“Your head is saying yes, but your face looks like you’re going to apparate the hell out of here the first chance you get.”
His voice startles her, drawing her out of her thoughts, and for a moment Rey can only stare at him. Was he… joking with her? Sure enough, there was the twitch of his lips, the sign of not quite a smile, because this was Ben Solo—-but it was something more than his ever-present, disapproving frown.
Blinking with realization that she is now just staring at his mouth, Rey quickly looks away. Her face grows warm, but her hands remain entwined with his. She feels comfortable touching him—a natural progression. The clear, next step in their… whatever this could be defined as.
“I trust you.” The words sound foreign and strange on her tongue, but Rey finds that they still ring true, because, when things boiled down to it—she did trust him. She trusted that he wasn’t going to off her in her sleep, and that he would have her back in a duel.
Whatever else needs to be said remains unspoken. A silence settles over them, but it doesn’t feel awkward or odd. No, it washes Rey with a sense of ease as once again she finds herself staring at Ben, while he, in turn, looks right back.
“Rey—” Ben leans forward, but she shakes her head. Words always seemed to just get in the way, to provide a cold, bracing dose of reality. They would have time to talk later, and maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, Rey had spent so many years wishing she could touch him, could run her fingers through his hair, and press her lips against his—he didn’t want to waste a moment more.
His gaze flickers from her eyes to her lips. She’s about to close the gap between them when instead, Ben beats her to the punch line. The kiss is soft, sweet, and surprisingly chaste, as if he’s testing the waters, but, just as every steady river leads to the rolling waves of the sea, her mouth parts and his tongue surges forward, lapping at her, drinking her up.
Their hands untangle and her fingers begin to wander. She presses her palm flat against his chest, enjoying the rhythmic beat of his heart that she feels beneath the layers of cloth, skin, and muscle.
His hands encircle her wrists, trying to pull her along as he rises to his feet but Rey resists, tugging free from his grasp. The kiss breaks, as Ben now stands before her, while Rey remains on her knees, the sleeping bag providing little barrier between herself and the cold, hard floor of the cave.
Bruised knees, however, are a consequence she is willing to accept for what she’s about to do.
With hooded eyes, she lifts her chin to look up at him. The warm glow of the firelight flickers across the hard lines of his features, casting enough light that she can make out the slope of his nose, the wide, set curve of his lips, and the heat that burns in his eyes. He’s watching her, and without looking away, her fingers begin to undo the button and fly of his pants.
She tugs the fabric down, just enough that his cock can spring free, achingly hard and skin flushed red, as a bead of precum collects at the head.
Rey reaches forward, experimentally grips him. He's too large for her hand, her fingers unable to enclose around his width fully. For a moment, she holds him, gently squeezes, slowly increasing the pressure, and enjoying the view. His eyelids begin to flutter, and the way the rhythm of rise and fall of his chest quickens.
Her eyes remain fixated upon him as she leans forward, her tongue darting out to lap at the tip, tasting the heady, salty flavor that is so uniquely him.
Ben inhales sharply, his hand jerks forward as his fingers become tangled in her hair. She takes him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and twisting her tongue, running just the tip over every ridge and groove, every vein and bit of soft, taut skin.
She’s not experienced by a long shot, but there had been an instance in a third floor bathroom at Hogwarts during her seventh year, and a handful of drunken one night stands where she had been feeling both giving and bold.
But, like the first time they had sex—the first time he had fucked her against the dresser, had made her come on his fingers, on his cock—Rey knew that anything she’d done would pale in comparison with what she would do with Ben..
This would be no exception.
His hold on her hair tightens. Ben gives a shape yank before twisting, knotting the strands over and over each of his digits.
“Rey—“ Her name falls from his lips like a warning, but to her it sounds more like encouragement, so she tries to take more of him in—to taste and explore every inch of his cock.
Her head continues to bob, the speed and pressure of her tongue, her lips erratic around him, much like his grip on her hair.
A warbled, choking noise begins to bubble from his throat, and all she can think is yes, yes . Even as the head of his cock hits the back of her throat and she gags around him, Rey is still determined to unravel him bit by bit until he’s screaming her name and coming on her tongue.
Rey sucks harder, lifting a hand to blindly grip the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fingers as she attempts to hold him in place. Her neck begins to ache as she continues to look up at him—twatching and gauging every minute reaction and response. Her eyes water as he jerks his hips forward, fucking himself into her mouth.
“ Rey— “ Another warning. Her scalp is burning in protest against his fingers, but unknowingly, he merely tightens his hold. She loves the way he’s unraveling before her very eyes, under each suck and swipe of her tongue. If she is to die in a duel, to go up in a blast of green light at the hands of Snoke or one of his followers, Rey can only hope that this is the last memory that flashes in her mind. That she succumbs to death with the vision of Ben Solo, lips parted and eyes shut, as he comes undone, all because of her.
Rey darts forward as his hips jut, the rhythm deliciously erratic and spontaneous. She can feel him growing tight, and his entire body go rigid.
He comes with her name falling from his lips, his voice, broken and hoarse as it echoes off the cave walls. Hot cum hits the back of her throat, and she eagerly drinks him down, her tongue lapping up each and every last drop of the intoxicating, salty taste.
Rey removes her mouth from him with an obscene pop . A string of saliva still connects them, a tether between her swollen red lips and the tip of his half hard cock. She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, enjoying the way her lips tingle—a welcome side effect from so much vigorous activity.
Rey leans back on her haunches, one palm against the ground to steady her shaking legs. Once more, she looks up at Ben, and this time, the sight is even more delicious.
He’s breathing heavily. Somehow, his hair has grown mussed, and his cock still hangs, partially erect, and looking positively wet—a mixture of her spit and the remnants of his cum. It’s the look in his eyes—heavy-lidded with lust—that sends a shiver down her spine. His lips begin to curl upwards, not into a smile, no, but a predatorial smirk.
“My turn.” He murmurs, like a sacred vowl, and Rey has no doubt in her mind that it’s a promise in which he intends to keep.
And keep it he does. Despite the seclusion of the cave and the warmth of the fire, the air is too cold to strip entirely naked. But god, all Rey wants to do is to lay out on top of the sleeping bag so they can explore one another’s bodies. Just like they had back in Ben’s room at Grimmauld place, when time had been in a seemingly endless supply.
Instead, they settle for what they’ve got—pants and knickers shoved down and aside. His hands snake up underneath the hem of her top, palming her breasts before giving them a feverish squeeze.
The cups of her bra push upwards, and soon his head joins his hands, hidden beneath her top, stretching the fabric. The tip of his nose skates across her skin, around and between her breasts, before his mouth encircles her right nipple. His tongue laps and teases at the sensitive bud, while his fingers toy with its twin—pinching and prodding in a way that makes Rey squirm.
“Patience.” Ben mouths at the skin of her breasts, his voice curls over her skin, hot and enticing. Goose flesh breaks out—and suddenly—every layer Rey wears is too rough, too thick, too much .
Whining, Rey blindly reaches for his cock, her fingertips clutching at his back, his arms as she tries to worm her hands between their bodies, wanting to feel him hard and ready once again.
Ben shifts out of her reach, and she hears a muffled chuckle from underneath her shirt. In protest, she jerks her hips forward, rubbing herself against him. The friction feels good, but only adds to the pressure that has begun to build between her legs. Her panties were wet before she even had tasted his cock, and the smell of sex wafts heavily in the air, mingling with the scent of the campfire smoke.
“Ben.” Rey grinds against him again, lifting her ass off of the ground to try and press as much of her body into his. His response is to bite at her nipple, her left one now, and she yelps at the sharp pressure. His tongue laps over it in apology, before Rey feels his hot mouth on her skin, certainly leaving a bruise in his wake.
In the meantime, his hands have begun to wander. Fingertips dip under the waistband of her knickers, and she inhales a sharp breath when she feels him brush against the thatch of wiry curls. He slips from his post beneath her shirt, leaving her bare breasts exposed to the cold, but Rey doesn’t care. Who could be cold when they had such a hot fire burning from within?
Ben leans over her, and Rey can feel his eyes drinking in every shift of her features—from the pebbled sight of her nipples, to every inch of her exposed skin.
“My turn to watch,” He proclaims in a low growl as the pad of his thumb swipes over her clit.
Rey gasps, an electric shock radiates through her body, and all her mind can think is more, more, more. Again, again, again.
“You like that, sweetheart?”
She nods her head, her lip begins to tremble and her teeth bite down, sinking into the soft, swollen flesh.
He’s at her entrance now, stroking at the slit, and Rey’s head lulls back, her eyes drifting shut. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip more as yet again her hips rise to meet his touch.
“I can’t hear you,” Ben teases, and despite her closed eyes, Rey can hear the smirk in his words.
“Yes.” She gasps, eyes shooting open just as she feels him press a finger inside of her, moving the digit in shallow thrusts. He adds a second finger, increasing his pace as Rey’s cry mixes with the lewd, slick sound of his flesh between her folds.
Her climax builds yet it’s still not enough. Even as her body cants to meet his hand, even as her own fingers mix with his, rubbing and swiping at her clit, trying to bring it all to a head, she still needs something more.
She needs him, and it’s something that even without words, he seems to understand.
Ben pushes her legs apart, spreading her as wide as she can, while her pants and knickers pool around her ankles, becoming nothing more than a tangled mess. He kneels between her thighs, gripping his cock—once again hard and ready—stroking himself as his eyes rake down her body from her face andher breasts, to her wet, throbbing cunt.
There’s a slight shift in his eyes as they meet hers. It doesn’t last long, it could’ve missed by a blink, and yet—Rey sees it. Sees the softness that lies beneath the desire and the want. She sees that this is something more.
Then it’s over, consumed by the fire as he’s pushing into her at a tantalizing slow pace.
Rey hisses, and his body goes rigid above her. It takes a moment to adjust to his size, but then she’s beginning to move—-shifting as she takes him in inch after inch—-until his hips are flush against hers and she can feel him sliding home.
“Move,” She pants the order and Ben doesn’t hesitate. Instead, he pulls back, almost entirely withdrawals from her before he slams back in. He repeats the action over and over again, increasing the feverish pace with each thrust.
Together, they move, chasing that climax, that high. He begins to chant her name mixed with a shower of praise and compliments. “Good girl. Yeah, like that. What a good little cunt you have, stretching and opening for my cock.”
Rey finds herself preening at it, wanting it more and more of his voice rumbling the things that made her shiver. She spreads her thighs, moves faster against him until everything bubbles over, and she’s seeing stars in her eyes. Rey comes with a cry followed by his name. “Ben. Ben. Ben .”
He comes inside of her, filling her up until she’s utterly full to the brim, and his cum has no choice but to dribble out, trickling down her thighs.
For a moment, they both go quiet and still except for their heaving chests and panting breaths that mingle together in the air.
His hair hangs like a dark curtain, framing his face, and Rey can’t help but to reach up, to thread her fingertips through the inky black locks, watching as the strands fall through the spaces between.
The soft smile that spreads across her lips feels both natural and right, but that’s not what surprises her. No, it’s the way his expression mirrors her own, lingering for a moment before he ducks his head down for a kiss.
Eventually, they untwine their bodies and straighten their clothes and into the sleeping bag together, feeling sedated and worn.
The scent of sex and sweat linger in the air. Rey's thighs feel sticky, his cum mixed with her own and beginning to dry but she finds she doesn’t dislike the feeling. Instead it feels almost nice, like yet another reminder of what had just happened.
His one arm wraps around her, drawing her back up against his chest, while the other tucks underneath Rey’s head, serving as a makeshift pillow.
She feels comfortable, cozy and safe, despite the situation, and the cold, hard stone floor beneath them.
Despite everything, this feels good. This feels right.
It makes what she has to do an even more bitter pill to swallow, but Rey doesn’t want to think about that. Not when there’s still a few hours until morning light.
Instead, she closes her eyes and rolls over and buries her face in the crook of his arm. Inhaling his scent, Ben begins to comb his fingers through her hair.
“Rey?”
She hums her response, the adrenaline from earlier long faded away, and sleep hovers on the horizon. Her body feels boneless, her mind sedated, a sensation only aided by the tips of his fingers moving across her scalp.
“Thank you for trusting me.” He whispers into her ear, but Rey’s mind doesn’t register his words, for she has already drifted off, succumbing to the darkness.
She misses the way he plays with her hair, and the way his mouth brushes over her forehead, the shell of her ear, and the back of her neck.
But then he’s burrowing in behind her, burying his face into her hair, and soon, nothing fills the air apart from the occasional crackle of dying embers and the soft sound of their breathing.
***
Dawn breaks. Beams of sunlight stream in through a couple cracks in the caves wall.
Ben stretches, reaches out his arms to search for her, but he feels nothing but the cold nylon of the sleeping bag. It’s empty. There's nothing but the hard floor and walls of the cave around him.
He bolts to his feet and a surge of adrenaline washes away the last of the sleep.
Ben looks around, confirming what he already knows in the pit of his stomach yet his mind does not want to accept.
There’s no Rey in sight. She’s gone.
“ Fuck !”
The single word echoes across the cave’s walls. His fingers clench, curling inward into fists as he lashes out on the campsite, throwing and kicking everything in his path until the contents of the cave lie in ruin.
Standing there, shoulders hunched and heaving with every labored breath, his bod trembles with the aftershocks of his rage.
Ben knows where she went. And fuck, he should have known. He should have done something to stop her, to prevent it. Because of course she went to try and save her friends, went off to be the goddamn hero of the Resistance.
She went running straight into the lion's den.