Chapter Text
Her whole body’s humming while she kisses him, her blood singing. She’s never come like that before, and she didn’t even have anything inside her to clamp down on, like she usually prefers. He made it so good for her.
And then she saw his dick. Holy hell. She mentally kicks herself for thinking he’d be anything less than ridiculously well-endowed. No wonder he comes off as an arrogant ass, carrying around a dick like that. He’s not even fully hard again and he’s still thick and red with a large head she wants to wrap her lips around.
He eases his lips away and says, “Just a sec,” and stands up. He stuffs himself back into his underwear and zips his fly, leaving the button and belt undone as he gently walks her back a few feet.
He goes to the adjoining kitchen, pouring them each a glass of water. He sets the glasses on the counter.
Despite the air conditioning, it’s hot in the apartment and they’re both sweating. Like he can read her mind, he bunches up the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it on the countertop. “I’m sweating like a fucking pig,” he mutters.
The view is a drool-worthy display of ivory skin over that lean rower’s physique, and she knows he lifts too, because she’s seen him go into the weight room. She’s been too shy to ask if he’ll show her around in there, but maybe she will now. It’s full of sweaty bro undergrads, very few women. She wonders how ripped she could get if she started lifting regularly. She wants to.
She leans against the desk, naked, watching him down his glass of water in just a few gulps.
When he returns to hand her the water, she sets it down and then slides her palms over his prominent pectorals and down his sides with a sigh.
“I’m flattered,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Your expression’s almost as appreciative as the one you gave that sausage fennel pizza last week.”
She smacks him playfully on the arm. He leans in to kiss her, and when his tongue slides between her lips, she moans. This kiss is less desperate than the first one by the door, but it’s intense and full of promise. They should be tired after how hard they’ve both come, but instead she feels his cock twitch against the fly of his jeans, and there’s an answering pull deep in her belly.
She’s pretty sure she just had the best oral sex of her whole life and yet her pussy’s clenching around nothing. She wants him. She needs him inside her.
He breaks the kiss, reluctantly, and then cages her between his long, muscled arms against the desk.
“Have I given you enough evidence to back up my claims?” he says quietly.
His nearness is still dizzying, especially with her naked and him mostly clothed. It makes her feel like his plaything. She likes it.
“One of them, yes,” she replies.
He lifts his eyebrows and sidles in even closer, his jean-clad thigh sliding between hers. “So you want me to prove the others too?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.” He leans into her, just a fraction. “And what was it I said?”
She peers up at his face. He remembers perfectly well, with a mind like his for words. He just wants to hear her say it.
“You said you’d, um.” She wets her lips. “Fill me up with your cock, and… fuck me so well I’d forget my own name.”
A small smile plays about his lips. He’s pleased she remembered his exact words, though how could she not?
“Speaking of names…” One of his hands shoots up to cup her head, right above her nape. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that text,” he says to her, his voice deep and smooth. “When you offered to call me Sir.”
She chances a look at his eyes. They’re dark, his lids lowered. “I’ll call you anything you want. Sir.”
“Fuck.” He grabs a fistful of her hair. “You really like that, bravissima? You want to be good for me and please me and kneel in front of me and do what I say?”
“Yes, please.”
He examines her face as he smooths a few strands of hair back. “You begged me to invite you over that night,” he whispers. “What were you hoping would happen if you did?”
“I was a little drunk,” Rey says. “But something like this, I think.”
“Yeah? Did you hope I’d sweep you into my arms, kiss you senseless, strip you slowly… learn every inch of you, make love to you with my mouth and my fingers and my cock while I confessed all my secret longings in your ear?”
That did sound pretty nice. “Maybe,” Rey says, wistfully.
“Maybe.” He licks his lips, still studying her expression. “Or did you hope I’d grab you the moment you walked in, shove you against the door, rip off your clothes, tie your hands with something and then bend you over my sofa and fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your life?”
Rey shudders, involuntarily, and she’s sure he can see and feel it.
“Yeah.” There’s a knowing gleam in his dark eyes. “That’s what I thought. You still want that?”
God, yes. Rey nods.
“Good,” he says, straightening up and taking a step back. “Then grab the edge of the desk and lean over it.”
She obeys, and when she’s in position, she can’t see him any longer because he’s behind her, still a few feet away. She hears him walking to the side, shifting his weight.
“Very nice.”
He moves behind her again, and pushes at the inside of her calf with his instep. “Wider.”
She shifts, leaning over farther to keep her balance.
“Now stay right there,” he says. “Don’t move your hands. Don’t move your feet. Stay.”
His hand drops onto her back, caressing her shoulder blades and her spine. He traces her sides with his palms, slides his hands around to fondle her butt. “You’re slim, but your ass is so nice and round. I could look at you like this all day.”
She loves being displayed for him, him touching her longingly like she’s a delectable meal he’s only moments from enjoying.
She hears the rustle of clothing and the clink of a buckle, and then he’s right behind her again. His arms come down on either side of hers and he’s holding his Italian leather belt. He grasps it and pulls it taut across the desk with a satisfying snap, right between her hands.
“Am I in charge of this?” he says. The voice is his authoritative classroom voice, but with a little more edge. It makes her wetter.
“Yes. Sir,” she adds, a beat late, but he doesn’t call her on it.
“You want it that way, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to cuff your hands with my belt while I fuck you, so you can be reminded of that the whole time.”
God, she loves that belt. “Yes. Please.”
“Good girl. Elbows on the desk. Hands clasped in front.” She does so, and he makes a loop effortlessly around one wrist, then flips it over her other wrist and feeds it back through the buckle. He’s pressed against her, and she can feel his cock hardening against her butt through his underwear, his jeans beginning to slip low on his hips. He hesitates for a moment with the belt, and he murmurs, “Uh, assuming I can remember how this… alright, there we go.”
The belt is now tucked into a neat figure eight around her wrists. “Too tight?”
She shakes her head.
“Good. Stay there. Let me look at you.”
He moves beside her and leans back on the desk, so tall that he can easily just sit back on it. He folds his arms over his bare chest and studies her.
“You can still go with option A, you know,” he says, sounding pretty casual for a man with a naked woman restrained beside him and a huge erection tenting his black boxer briefs. “Me as your advisor.”
She swallows, twisting her neck to look up at him from her position with her elbows on the desk. “Does that change if we do this now?”
A corner of his mouth jumps. “It’s not strictly ethical. But under the circumstances… I can live with it having happened, as long as we’re not dating or fucking anymore from the day I start supervising you. Nothing can happen the whole time I hold your degree and your professional reputation in my hand. You understand why that is, right?”
Tempted as she might be to cast something as boring as professional ethics aside, ultimately those boundaries would protect both of them. “Yeah.”
“And if you’re going to break my—” He clears his throat. “Break it off, then do it soon. We take some time apart over the summer. Come back fresh in the fall. Be strictly professional from then on.”
The thought of it makes her throat constrict. She closes her eyes for a long blink. “Okay.”
“Just—please.” He edges around the side of the desk and crouches down, so he can look at her at eye level. She’s stayed exactly where he put her. “Don’t toy with me. Wear what you want, but don’t torture me on purpose. I can’t take it. I’ll cave.”
She looks at him, at the pleading in his eyes, and her chest tightens. “What about me? What if I cave?”
“And text me begging to come over to get fucked?” He lowers his chin to the desk with a rueful smile, his seductive, predatory persona slipping for a few seconds. “Cara mia, look at us. You really think we are going to make it three or four years? Christ, Rey, we didn’t even make it to your bedroom.”
She snorts with laughter, suddenly, and he stands up to walk around behind her. “You were a very bad girl that night you texted me, and I never held you accountable.” He shoves her face down toward her bound wrists. “Shut your naughty mouth for a few minutes. Bite it. Bite the belt.”
“Are you serious?” He is pressing her mouth into the outer edge of the cuff, and she moans.
“Just for now. Be a good girl,” he says, and she reluctantly fits the belt between her top and bottom teeth with a wordless noise of frustration.
“Much better. Stay there.”
He strokes her shoulders, the nape of her neck. He brushes his fingers down her spine, and she shivers.
When he insinuates a hand under her arm and cups her breast, she moans. It’s the first time he’s touched her there. He takes his time, letting her breasts fill his palms, lifting, massaging. He gently tweaks her nipple and when she draws in a breath, her teeth slip a bit on the belt.
“You like this?”
She nods.
He touches her sides, her stomach, and when his fingers trail down from her belly button, her whole torso tightens reflexively. He continues lower, over her curls, tracing her mound. She’s shuddering with anticipation.
“Shh,” he says. “Patience.”
Finally he slips his fingers between her folds and gives a nice, firm press to her clit with the flat part of her fingers. She bucks under him.
She feels him hard against her butt, and she can’t wait.
He hisses when he finds her soaking. “You’re still wet for me. I fucking love it.”
When she feels him penetrate her with a finger, she moans around the belt. Those beautiful hands of his, those fingers she watched him twirl pens with and jab at the projector screen and wondered how they’d feel inside her. Now she knows. It feels amazing.
“You can let go of the belt,” he says. “I want to hear you for this.”
He adds another finger, and she starts to move her hips in time with his motions.
“You’re so wet and tight. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
“Please,” she says, her voice hoarse.
She hears a muffled curse and his fingers leave her. She hears fabric moving and thinks he’s finally getting rid of his jeans, socks and underwear.
“Condom okay?” he says.
She has an IUD, anyway, and no desire to get into any other details right now. “Sure, yes.”
She hears a package being opened. In another moment she feels him in back of her.
He’s touching her with his hand again, this time from behind. It’s slow, tantalizing.
“You want me to fuck you?” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then just one little thing.” He touches her with the tip of his cock, rubbing himself around her entrance, getting himself wet. “Do you remember when I first told you we’d wind up fucking?”
“Yes.”
“I know I was drunk and rude and I should’ve given you the choice about how to handle it. But tell me—honestly, now—” He reaches down, pinches her chin and turns her head so he can see her face. “Was I wrong about that? That we’d fuck?”
She realizes where this is going. She whimpers in frustration. “No.”
“What was that?” he says. “Louder. I can’t hear you.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t wrong, was I? I was right.”
“Yes.”
“Fucking say it!” He leans down, looming over her. “Say I was right!”
“You were right,” she groans, knowing it’s true. Knowing the game is over. She hasn’t even had him inside her yet, and she knows, she knows it’s done and she’s lost. He can take anything he wants from her, and she’d happily give in.
“Again!”
“You were right! You were right. Please.”
“Please,” he echoes. “You are begging me to fuck you. Aren’t you?”
Her voice is weakening, she’s so focused on the feeling of him between her legs. “Yes.”
“I knew!” he says. “I knew this would happen. I want that noted for the goddamn record. You hear me?”
“Yes.”
He notches himself inside her, and she draws in a breath. His voice wavers the slightest bit, like he’s clinging to control. “Beg me again.”
“Please. Please fuck me.”
“Again.” It’s a rasp this time.
“Please, Ben. Please fuck me now.”
“Good,” he whispers. “Good girl.”
Then he slides in, inch by wonderful inch, and she’s stretched so full that she gasps.
He groans. “Fuck, Rey. Mother of God, that’s so fucking tight. Oh, Christ.”
His hands tighten on her hips, and he slowly starts to fuck her in earnest.
“You like this?” he growls as he starts to pick up speed.
She nods, sighing, moving just enough to meet his thrusts. She likes being in this position and having his belt around her wrists. His cock is huge and very firm and hitting her inner walls in a way that tells her she’s going to come hard on it.
“You think I can make you come again?”
“Yes,” she whispers, rolling her hips with his movements.
“Good. That’s my good girl.” He reaches around her thighs, touches his fingertips to her clit. “I’ll start. Then I’ll free your hands and you can take over. Okay?”
That sounded heavenly. “Yes.”
She loses herself in it. Unbelievably, he actually shuts up and listens. He’s attuned to her every sound, adjusting his pace and his depth and his angle according to how much it makes her gasp and moan and squirm in his grip.
His hand on her clit feels good, but it’s not enough to push her over the edge.
“Ben.”
“Ready?” he says, and pauses just long enough to stretch around her side and untuck the belt from around her wrists. “You were so good. You looked so pretty all tied up for me.”
She pushes herself up and stretches, propping a hand on the edge of the desk. She’s ready to touch herself while he continues as he had been doing, but he catches her wrist and presses a kiss to the inside. “You’ve been standing a while,” he says. “Get on top of me on the couch.”
Oh. Even better.
He sits and pulls her across him, and it’s very different being face to face with him. She hasn’t had a good look at him naked, and he’s drinking her in greedily with his eyes as she shifts on his lap. He’s impressively hard, and his torso and thighs are solid muscle.
Neither of them can wait any longer. She tips her hips up and reaches down to aim him at her entrance. When she sinks down, he hisses.
She clenches her thighs and lifts up and sits down again, and that’s it, he’s buried in her.
“Oh, yes.” He kisses her, and when they’re pressed chest to chest, it’s electrifying. He thrusts deep and she sucks in her breath. “You like this?”
“Oh, God yes,” she says, brushing her lips over his cheek as she tries to match his rhythm. “Yes, professore.”
He groans, sounding defeated. “You’re going to fucking kill me with this. You’re so hot, I can’t take it.”
“Yes, Ben,” she whispers, and lowers a hand to touch her clit.
His hands fall to her waist, his thumbs brushing her ribs as he guides her up and down in a smooth, deep rhythm. His open mouth drags over her chest, up her neck, under her jaw while he murmurs praise words. He steals glances down at her rising and falling on his cock, and she can’t stop looking at his body, his bigness, all that strength centered underneath her, at her service. At her mercy, really.
“Are you close?” he asks her as his breathing quickens, their seamless rhythm taking on stutters and halts as they notch up higher and higher.
She is, but she’s been at a fever pitch for several minutes already and is fighting back frustration. She needs to come so badly, can’t wait to come with his cock buried inside her, and yet she can’t tip herself over.
“Maybe? I think so,” she says, and the uncertainty in her tone makes him chuckle.
“Just what every guy wants to hear,” he gets out between the deep breaths that punctuate his thrusts. “Tell me what you need.”
“Nothing, I should be good,” she says. She wants to get off just like this, with him under her, riding him. She should be able to, but it isn’t working. She looks hungrily at his face and hair, his defined shoulders, his smooth fair skin. He is so beautiful like this. Why can’t she finish this way? She rubs her clit with renewed vigor.
“Don’t tell me about should,” he says as he drives deep. “What do you need? Just a little more time? Or something else?”
A whimper of frustration comes from her throat as she lays her cheek on his neck. She doesn’t know why she’s resisting, maybe just that it feels so good and he looks so nice like this. It’s unexpected, that he loves being under her, after all his talk of being in charge. She wants to savor it to the fullest…
“Rey.” He catches her hair in his fist and pulls her head back so he can look at her face. “I want you to come. Can’t wait much longer. Please tell me. I’ll do anything, anything you want.”
She knows that he means it. If she comes on his dick, he’ll really love it. It’s nice to know. The way he says anything like it’s not a big deal to care about her wants or needs, like it goes without saying. Like it’s just who he is.
It’s this that finally pushes her to let go of her own expectations.
“I want you to just lay me down here and fuck me,” she blurts, and she sees his mouth curve into a smile.
“Thank you,” he whispers, and with a glint in his eye, adds, “I can do that.”
In another second she’s flipped onto her back on the sofa, and he’s arched over her, dwarfing her smaller frame. He fits himself into her and pushes in for what feels like an eternity until he finally bottoms out and she clutches at his shoulders.
“Hard, please,” she whispers as her fingers find her clit again.
“Yeah? You need me to fuck you nice and hard?” he says, already withdrawing to thrust back in fast and deep.
She can only nod with her eyes squeezed shut, feeling her climax build again, a tightening knot of pure heat.
“Forget everything else,” he whispers soothingly as he braces his hand on the arm of the sofa for leverage. “No worries. Just feel. That’s all.”
His hips are graceful and relentless as they rock against hers. She’s sliding into pure pleasure, glancing up at the soft curves of his lips as they finish forming the words and remain parted as he draws in huge, desperate breaths.
“You with me?” he forces out between clenched teeth.
“Yes…”
“Come on, Rey. Come nice and hard for me. Please, I need…”
Whatever he had been about to say is lost when her orgasm finally hits and her back bows as she cries out loudly with the force of it, and he’s just repeating Good girl, so good, that’s so good, as he gives a few final deep thrusts and his body goes still, only his arms shaking as he comes while buried inside her to the hilt.
As she floats slowly back down to earth, wrapped tightly in her beloved professor’s arms, she realizes something’s shifted in her mind, clouds parting to reveal a wide sky.
The treasured stories from the literature she’s studied, the depictions of romance that she considered exquisitely lovely but entirely impossible, are suddenly shining, gospel truth. For the first time, she’s able to believe.
She hasn’t forgotten her name, exactly, but she feels made anew, part of something magnificent and ancient.
She’s Francesca. Beatrice. Desdemona. Juliet. She belongs with the ones who know, the ones who’d happily risk everything for passion like this, the ones who literally lived and died for love.
There’s a low whine in his throat as he presses a lingering kiss to her cheek and then her mouth. She dares to imagine that he feels the same.
She’s vaguely aware of him easing off her and taking care of the condom, and only stirs when she hears the kitchen tap turn on as he refills their water glasses. He’s gloriously naked as he strolls around her living room.
She doesn’t realize she’s humming a tune until he hands her the glass of water and says, “What’s that?”
“Oh, um…”
It’s a new soundtrack, I could dance to this be-e-eat…
Welcome-to-New-York.
She smiles up at him as she takes a sip. “A Taylor Swift song about New York. Guess my brain’s telling me something.”
“New York, huh?” He hides a smile behind his water glass, too, and then he blanches and his eyes rise to stare off into the distance.
Was it too much? Would he think she was crazy for being ready to change her mind, after that? Did men just not do this?
“New York,” he repeats and his eyes find hers, wide with horror. His head whips to face the door, and there’s his overnight bag where he dropped it hours ago. “Oh shit, my mother!”
Oh. Rey wants to laugh, because she had completely forgotten as well, that he was on his way out the door.
He leaps for the pile of his clothes on the floor, shaking out his jeans till he can extract his phone. Rey’s too far to see details, but she sees the bright boxes of notifications on the screen. “Fuck!” he exclaims, and he’s jabbing at the screen, then holding it between his shoulder and ear as he digs into the pile of fabric for his boxer briefs, extracts them and tries to hold them in place for his feet.
Rey hears a tinny voice answer the phone on the other end just as Ben manages to tuck himself into his underwear, the elastic snapping at his waist.
“Mom, I’m sorry, I’m going to be late.”
Where are you? How late? Rey hears Ben’s mother say.
“Um, I actually…” He palms at his beard stubble and swallows nervously. “I actually I haven’t left yet, I’m still in Jersey.”
The tinny sounds from the other end of the phone grow suddenly much louder and more prolonged, and Ben holds the phone a little farther from his ear, wincing.
From what Rey can make out, Ben’s mother is swearing a blue streak in two languages. Now she knows where he gets it…
“I know—I know, you made lasagna—I just… lost track of time because I was…” His gaze locks with Rey’s, and his mouth quirks. “Helping my student with her research.”
Ben lifts a resigned palm in the air at the creative statement, and Rey claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her helpless laughter.
The agitated berating on the other end of the line stops, so suddenly that Ben checks the phone screen. “Mom, you still there?”
His mom’s voice returns, calmer, with rising intonation.
“Yes, the one who was going to take the room.” A pause, and Ben gulps again, turning his eyes to Rey’s face. “No… Ma, she doesn’t want to come to New York tonight at a moment’s notice.” He covers the bottom half of the phone with one enormous hand and stage-whispers, “Do you?”
Rey catches his eye and nods enthusiastically with a bright smile.
His brows furrow. “Hold on,” he says into the phone, and punches the mute button. He walks toward Rey, who is bundled in a throw blanket on the couch, and lifts one of her hands to his lips. He presses a kiss to her fingers, maybe so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes as he says, “You… you really want to come to New York with me, right now, and spend your Saturday night with me, and… my mother?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I can help you clean out the room. And meet Dameron.”
His gaze meets hers as he crouches beside her, and she knows he gets it, now, because his eyes get warm and soft. He hits a button on the phone screen.
“Actually yeah, she says she’s free, if that’s okay with you.”
Of course it’s okay, comes the reply. Does she like lasagna?
Rey nods again, her stomach letting out a growl of anticipation. She laughs, embarrassed, but Ben just reaches out to give her bare belly several calming pats.
“Sure she does. Listen, you eat, we’ll be up as soon as we can. Sorry about dinner. I’ll make it up to you. And clean out Dad’s office. Yeah. Okay. I’ll text you when we get in. Love you. Bye.”
Rey sits up, setting her feet on the floor. She is going to need to shower and pack in record time. They could linger in the afterglow another time.
Ben clears his throat, shifting his weight as he hunches in front of her. “If you promise never to tell Dameron that my mother was literally present on our first date, I swear I’ll take you on a real date next week.”
“Deal,” she says with a smile, and shoves gently at his shoulders. “Out of my way. I need to pack.”
Ben showers with Rey, gets dressed and pulls out his phone while Rey packs a quick overnight bag.
Me: Sorry for the late notice, but are you free for brunch at 12 tomorrow? We could do Jacob’s on the UWS? My treat
Poe: Your treat? What’ve you done now Solo
Me: The student wants to meet you and will be in the city if you’re around
Poe: I’m around
Me: Also just to check would you still be okay to work with her if she and I were dating?
Poe: (…)
Poe: Wait, did you fuck her?
Poe: OMG you fucked her, didn’t you
Ben sighs and grinds his teeth, reminding himself that Poe’s cooperation is a key part of the plan, and that pissing him off might affect Rey’s future.
Me: No need to be crude
Poe: YOU, Dr Benjamin Pottymouth Studentfucker
Poe: calling ME crude
Poe: Hahahahhahahahhaa
Poe: hahahhahahha
Poe: hahahha
Me: can you please answer the question
Poe: Yes, her incredibly poor taste in men doesn’t affect her academic talents IMHO
Me: Invite Finn to brunch if you like
Poe: He says he’s in. See you tomorrow
“The lasagna has ham in it?” Rey says as she slides into the window seat on the train.
He finishes tucking his bag under the seat. “Yep. Ham – which as you know they call literally 'cooked prosciutto' to give you a sense of cured meat priorities - and a cheese called caciocavallo which is kind of like provolone, with a spicy sausage ragù. That’s how my mom’s family makes it in Calabria.”
“Well, it sounds delicious.”
They’re both still nervous as the train pulls out of the Coruscant station. A lot’s happened today.
She goes quiet, staring out the window, and his anxiety increases. He finds her small hand and encloses it in his.
“Hey.” Even though it pains him, he says, “You don’t have to do this.”
Her hazel-green eyes find his. “Do what?”
“You know, New York. Me. Any of it.”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “I know. There’s still Philly, or Delaware, or I can just punt the whole thing and defer to next year, which I didn’t want to do, but I can. I have options.”
“And you’re not—” He swallows, thinking that she is still essentially being robbed of her first choice of academic paths, and her home in Coruscant, and all she’s getting in return is possibly dating his miserable ass. “Disappointed?”
Her freckles shift as a slow grin spreads across her face. “You’ve gone above and beyond to support me,” she says with a squeeze of his hand. “And after today… how could I be disappointed? Being with you is fun. It was a tough choice, but I’ll have plenty more of those, I’m sure.”
Relief washes over him. His throat tightens, and he clears it, leaning his forehead down to hers and slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Tough choices. You mean like…” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper after a glance around the train car. “Whether you want my mouth or my dick? Because I’m going to offer you that choice every day.”
She hums, pretending to think it over. “Extremely tough choice, since I can’t even compare the two. It’s like… apples and arancini.”
He chuckles, and his arms tighten around her. “Sausage or prosciutto.”
“Boccaccio or Dante. One’s quick and dirty, the other’s long and epic and very thorough. So, both?”
He laughs again, his throat still tight with emotion, and then he traces a finger down her cheek, making her catch her breath. “Okay, bravissima, enough lit crit. I’d love to hear more, but I don’t want to get arrested for public indecency. I’m already on probation with HR.”
“Maybe later,” Rey replies, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
He grins. “Count on it.”
Conversation lapses into a comfortable silence broken only by the rhythmic whir of the train.
Summer twilight descends as the train whirs past highways and fields and suburban developments. He’s made this trip so many times, dreading tense family holidays, and always with a gnawing sense of wrongness in his gut because he had to return to Coruscant eventually.
He could understand the misery of Dante’s exile from his beloved Florence, where despite many attempts, the poet was never allowed to return. Politics, money, and pride all kept Florence’s most famous citizen out of his home city until his death.
Ben’s not Dante, though, and he’s not going to make that mistake. Family and university politics could be negotiated. He’d pay whatever it cost. And pride? He didn’t have a hell of a lot of use for it anymore.
Rey’s hand rests over his as she watches the landscape pass. He has always been a New Yorker at heart, but for the first time in a long while, this trip feels like going home.
In the distance, the lights of the skyscrapers sparkle like stars.