Work Text:
Once a week.
It’s a start.
Just try it.
It’s Tuesday and the shop is slow. It’s small, with an honest to God bell at the top of the door that jingles when you come in. He watches it finish its song and dance as he steps through the door, only for it to do an encore as the door closes behind him.
There are three tables and a ratty looking couch. It’s warm and smells of that rich, deep, and bitter smell that only comes from grinding coffee beans and drenching them in hot water. There’s no one there immediately to greet him, but he did choose to come in at 10AM for a reason. He slips into a chair at one of the tables and starts to unpack his things, head ducked, rummaging and setting up as if participating in an olympic sport in looking too busy for pleasantries.
Everything is set up just fine, not as pristine or as ready-for-anything as his office at home, but that’s fine. He’s trying something new. It’s a start. Only once a week.
There’s movement to his right, a flash of brown hair and an apron behind the counter. A soft voice singing. Dreading any eye contact, he goes back to his computer. There’s plenty of two factor authentications he has to do in order to get started anyway. That is the same as working from his home office, at least.
There’s a chorus of noise as he works. Music playing over the speakers, grinding of beans, the soft singing of a voice behind the counter. Sometimes whistling. He could put on headphones, he supposes, but he doesn’t like how they feel if he wears them longer than a workout session. This will be longer.
So he listens and works, code being written down the computer screen until something dings and he checks a message or his email. Customers come in and leave and he calls it a success once his stomach starts to protest in hunger. He was going to stay for the entire work day, but it’s just day one. He’s trying. He will try for a full day next week. Maybe he’ll even order a coffee next week.
\\//
It’s Tuesday again so he tries again.
He arrives earlier than expected and it proves to be a different entrance experience. He doesn’t even create the door bell jingle, someone else is holding the door open as he approaches. He nods and the person gives him one of those tight lipped smiles, so he tries to imitate it. This time there is someone behind the counter, this time he can’t just slide into a seat and start working without anyone giving a shit.
He likes when no one gives a shit. It’s familiar.
He stops about three steps into the shop, because he’s making eye contact. Not on purpose, but it’s all the same whether it’s accidental or not.
She’s behind the counter, a real lithe thing that looks even more petite because of the sweatshirt she’s wearing that’s at least two sizes too big. The sleeves are pushed up to her elbows and there’s a tattoo on one of her forearms. Her jaw is sharp, face round, smile wide and bright as she takes him in. Her eyes crinkle from that smile overtaking the rest of her face. She blinks and turns to look down at something before looking back up at him and in that flash of movement he catches a peculiar three bun hairstyle running vertical at the back of her head.
“Hello,” she says, “how’s it going?”
He remembers to breathe again, but it’s hard. She’s beautiful, so it’s all a bit much. Unexpectedly. Just like her British accent.
He’s taking too long to respond, he knows, but his body could always move quicker than his brain, so he steps up to the counter. He wanted to order this time, anyway, right?
“Uh, hi,” he says, then clears his throat. His voice can get caught somewhere in there sometimes from lack of use. “Good.”
She blinks, waiting, but not unkindly. Patient, warm, welcoming. He’s feeling hot all of a sudden, even though the chill of winter still bites outside.
“Whatcha need?” she asks, so friendly and casual, as if they have this interaction every day. It’s a gift, he thinks, something particular about her or people who can connect, even in these micro moments of customer service interactions.
“Coffee,” he replies. He tries to look away from her, like he usually does, but he likes how her eyes sparkle and the dimple that forms in her cheek. “Please.”
“Good choice, I just brewed a new batch. Just for you,” she says, pulling a cup off a stack of them. She laughs, something like a puff of air between her lips. Slightly self deprecating, but still joyous. “What about a pastry or something? Breakfast?”
“No, that’s – I ate.”
“Oh nice, what’d you have?”
He blinks. She turns and the buns bounce with her movement. She’s filling his coffee. He simultaneously tries to recall the breakfast he had a few hours ago while wondering if she could possibly care at all what he ate.
“Egg whites,” he supplies, his own voice sounding flabbergasted, as if he can’t believe he ate that, “with mushrooms and spinach. Broccoli, too, I think.”
“You’re wild,” she teases, turning back and grabbing a top for his coffee cup. She stops, twisting her face. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask if you wanted room. I can pour some out.”
“No, no, please, no.” He reaches forward as if to grab the coffee, but waits until she lets go of the cup. “I drink it black.”
She snaps and points at him. “Sounds right. Goes with the egg whites and greenery.”
She smiles so big again, face aglow with it. Eyes squinting, nose scrunched, dimple pinched. Her name tag on her apron catches the light from one of the bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
Rey.
“Thank you,” he says, then he swallows before continuing. “Rey.”
Her head tilts as if hearing her name from his lips has delighted her. “You’re welcome…”
She waits and it takes him too long to realize he is supposed to supply his name. Unfortunately, he doesn’t wear some civilian name tag that gets him out of this.
“Benjamin.”
She nods and one of the sleeves of her sweatshirt drops down to her hands, engulfing it.
“You’re welcome, Benjamin.”
\\//
It’s the third Tuesday. Three times is still a start, he reasons, as his stomach churns at the prospect of walking into the shop again. He’s trying.
There’s two people behind the counter when he arrives. Granted, he came even earlier than usual this time, so there’s even a line and two of the tables are taken. His heart jumps at the prospect of not having a table and the idea of agonizing in line hoping no one takes it makes him step out and put his stuff down before joining the line again.
Rey is here, chatting back and forth with customers along with her coworker in an impressive dance. She’s also filling coffees and grabbing pastries, handling payments and explaining how the credit card reader works. He’s thought about her, more than just once a week, about the freckles on her crinkled nose and that dimple that pops when she smiles. She’s wearing a beanie today, her hair in two short braids that brush her shoulders as she zips around back there.
It’s his turn.
“Hello,” she says, then blinks, then her smile grows, just a little more. “Benjamin!”
His stomach swoops, then knots, engulfing in flames. His cheeks are warming and he can feel that heat travel to his ears. She grabs a cup and starts tapping on the tablet register screen.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Good, good,” he says quicker than last time. “You?”
“I’m okay,” she says, shrugging. “Didn’t sleep well last night so I’m just gonna lay underneath the espresso machine and let the shots flow.” She nods toward the espresso machine where a man is busy steaming milk and pouring shots of said espresso. He smiles, but doesn’t look up. “Coffee, yeah? Black.”
More heat, just so much heat engulfing his skin.
“Yeah, thank you,” he says and leans toward the pastry case while she pours. “And… uh, a scone?”
“We’re all out of kale scones, Benjamin, I’m afraid you must settle for sugar and fruit.”
He smiles at that before he can stop himself. He bites it back, but the heat is locked in on his cheeks, it’s probably all over his face now.
“Okay,” he says.
She places the scone on a plate and taps along the tablet and says something to her coworker while Ben taps his card on the reader. She snaps the top onto his coffee cup and Ben grips it, the heat from the coffee tingling along his palm.
“Uh,” he says, grabbing his plate. Rey turns from beckoning the next customer and locks in on him. He tries to avoid her eyes again – they’re golden and hazel and green all at once – but is unsuccessful. “When I can’t sleep, I do melatonin, sometimes even two, I know, I know, but I’m big.” Her eyebrow raises and that gets him to look away, just for a moment. “Uh, well, I do that and then I drink the extra sleepytime tea. The one with the bear on it, but extra sleepy time. Then ocean sounds but, almost too loud. It still takes a half hour or so, but then I actually fall asleep and will sleep through the whole night.”
He’s winded by the end of it. He doesn’t do that much talking, usually. His job definitely doesn’t require it. His lifestyle doesn’t. He usually… well, he usually doesn’t have much to say. Lately.
He tries to move on, because customers are waiting but she hasn’t yet. She leans over the counter, one eye almost closed as she examines him.
“You mean the ice cream sundae I had at 10 wasn’t helpful in aiding my sleep, Benjamin?”
That surprises him and appalls him all at once so he lets out a small laugh, looking down. He shakes his head.
“No, that is not helping.”
“Noted,” she says, nodding at the next customer. “Enjoy the scone.”
He does.
\\//
Three more Tuesdays go by and he spends them at The Outpost Coffee House.
His interactions with Rey vary from a back and forth at the counter, to her calling his name because he ordered a latte upon her request. Her coworker, Finn, knows him, too. He supposes he’s a regular now.
He’s trying, perhaps he’s succeeding. Maybe he’s just in progress.
This was all his mother’s idea. Once he was done at First Order, he got a job coding for a local bank, regular maintenance and app development. He sort of did everything, helped where he could, but it was different there. Less demanding. Less all encompassing. Less like hell on earth.
He spent ten years at First Order and he came out of it lost and dead.
His mom was happy about his new job, and is still happy. But she worried about the isolation of working from home after everything, for having no purpose to go outside, really. He lost his friends while he was at First Order and anyone from there didn’t care to see him anymore. He didn’t have anything to do but go to his parents’ house or work in his home office.
The majority of his time is still spent at home, he sometimes picks up dinner or takes a walk, but otherwise he’s working, watching TV, or reading. The Outpost being part of his weekly routine jostles the isolated monotony of it all.
And there’s Rey.
She’s wiping the empty tables after the lunch rush. Finn is behind the counter tidying up and handling anyone who may wander in. After the tables, Rey grabs a broom and whistles as she sweeps up bits of straw wrappers and croissant flakes. He’s lost in a bit of a problem on his screen when she appears next to him.
“May I sit?” she asks.
Ben blinks up at her, there’s a soft pink on the apples of her cheeks. She’s holding a take out container that looks like it’s been warped by too many turns in the microwave.
He sits up straighter and nods, clearing his throat. “Yes, of course.”
“You haven’t eaten yet,” she observes, popping open the container. There’s an overstuffed sandwich inside, vegetables and meat and cheese bursting between two slices of cheap white bread.
She’s worn from the day. There’s a difference to her now than when he walked in. Her hair is falling out of her buns and her lips look a little dryer. There’s a slouch to her shoulders. It almost feels intimate to see her this way. Definitely more intimate to have her sitting at his table.
“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles, looking at the time in the corner of his computer. His hand pushes through his hair. “Just trying to fix something before I eat, but–”
“Am I interrupting?” she asks, mouth full of sandwich. She pulls a piece of tomato from between her lips. There’s mayo on her chin. His heart is fluttering. “I’m so sorry, Benjamin–”
“No, it’s okay, I should…” He nods, swallows, another nod before he puts his hands up. “I should take a break, it will probably help. Maybe.”
He blinks away from the screen, lowering it, but leaving it a crack in case there’s any notifications while he eats. He digs in his bag and pulls out his thermos full of chicken, rice, and green beans.
“If you’re sure,” she says, taking another huge bite. It’s impressive how much she can fit in her mouth. His ears burn at the thought.
“I’m sure,” he says, unscrewing the top and digging in with his fork, mixing all the ingredients.
They eat silently for a few minutes. He keeps sneaking glances up at her, watching her enjoy her food and take heaping gulps of water. She’s wearing an oversized flannel over a tank top today. The tank top is tight and low and he’s ashamed that his eyes can’t stay up. She’s just always so covered, usually, with big clothes and an apron. He can see the shape of her and it’s overwhelming, almost dizzying.
“What do you do, anyway? I have a bet with Finn you’re a spy.”
Ben snorts before swallowing a bite of chicken.
“I’m not a spy.”
“You look like you could be, you know,” she says. Ben’s stomach flutters again. “You’re big and you always look like you’re evaluating something or someone. Like an art thief.”
“I’m not examining any art thieves. I am an engineer for Nab Lakes Credit Union.”
“Right,” Rey says, winking at him. He’s on fire. “Your secret is safe with me, Agent Benjamin.”
“And what do you do,” Ben asks quickly. “I mean, not here. When you’re not here.”
She blinks and tilts her head, clearly caught off guard by his question. The corner of his mouth lifts.
“Unless you’re the spy.”
She laughs. “Sounds fun, but no.” She swipes the back of her hand across her mouth, finished with her monstrosity of a sandwich. “I tutor a few days a week at the library, just volunteering.”
“Really?” Ben asks.
Rey shrugs. “Yeah, why not? I’m smart.” She puts the top on her container and drinks more water. “And then sometimes my mates and I have game nights where we play really complicated board games. I do like to play, but I like gossiping, eating, and drinking more.” Ben can see it, Rey competitive but a little lost, Cheeto dust all over her lips. “What about you? When you’re not spying for the FBI?”
Ben runs his tongue against the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Uh,” he says, “well, on Tuesdays, I spend my whole day at the coffee shop near my apartment.”
“Oh yeah?” Rey asks, leaning back in her chair. She crosses her arms. “How’s that?”
“Great, actually,” he says, “really great.”
\\//
He’s itching to work at The Outpost on days that are not Tuesdays. It’s not because he enjoys the ambiance (the music is too loud and sometimes the grinder gets jammed and it sounds terrible) or that the seating is very comfortable (he has to hunch over his laptop). The real reason makes his skin burn and the nerves in his body come alive with a buzz.
He doesn’t, however. He loves order and routine, thrives on it a bit, and he reasons that it would be like starting over. He’s finally comfortable walking in on a Tuesday because they all expect him, everything is as it is supposed to be. What if she’s not even there on a Thursday? Monday?
What if she’d be disappointed to see him on a different day, finding Tuesdays already a bit much for his hulking frame to take over a table for 6-8 hours?
But, no. She’s always smiling, hazel eyes bright, when she sees him. She makes him custom drinks now since he’s open to lattes, leaves and designs decorated in the foam. She eats lunch with him now, takes her ten minute breaks with her elbows on the table, chin in her hand, watching, talking, listening. She sings along to the music playing over the speakers and points to him from behind the counter to finish the lyrics. He never does. She smiles anyway.
So, no, no he wouldn’t be a burden to her.
That’s what he tells himself anyway. When he remembers.
\\//
“Benjamin!”
Rey pops up from behind the counter, eyes wide at seeing him.
He waves and like a magnet drifts toward her. It’s quiet, that 10 o’clock lull arriving right along with him.
“I thought you weren’t coming in today,” she says, laying her palms flat on the counter and leaning forward, head tilting. Her hair is half up today, it looks shorter. The last couple weeks she’s been wearing t-shirts and he can see her toned arms. She has more than just the tattoo on her forearm, there’s also one on her opposite bicep. Flowers.
Ben shrugs. “Dentist appointment.”
“No cavities, I assume?” Rey says, her head tilting the other way, that big, overwhelming smile taking over her face. She leans closer. So does he, putting a hand on the edge of the counter opposite her. “You’re probably one of those people that actually flosses every single day.”
He laughs behind closed lips, cheeks hot. “Guilty.”
Rey rolls her eyes and grabs a cup, turning to fill it. He hasn’t paid for his coffees in awhile. Lattes and food, she still taps on that tablet and charges him for it. Sometimes. When he insists.
“Hungry?” she asks. Ben shakes his head, grabbing his cup of coffee.
While he sets up at his table, he can hear whispers. Finn and Rey near the back of the coffee shop. Laughing. Ben’s stomach drops, never considering before that they could be flirting. Together. For all he knows Rey could have a boyfriend. Girlfriend. Partner.
Not that it matters. Not really. He’s just the guy who comes to the coffee shop and sits there working because he’s a loser loner who almost… well, who had to quit his job. The big job, the job he almost lost his family for, life altering, very well paying job.
“Oi! Shut it!” Rey laughs, coming out of the back of the shop, broom in hand. She starts sweeping, lazy strokes along the floor while she bobs around to the music.
Ben’s done setting up and is logged in, eyes trailing through his messages before he can get to real work. Nothing exciting happened in his late start to the day and his eyes aren’t staying on the screen, catching glimpses of Rey as she sweeps. Her arms, hands working. Her profile as she turns and moves. Her little nose and nice lips. Is it possible to miss her since he started his day late? Like the chemistry of his brain relies on her at 8AM every Tuesday.
“Did you get a haircut?” Ben asks.
Rey turns to him and pops her hip playfully. There’s a shake to her shoulders. “Why, yes.”
“Nice,” Ben says. He closes his eyes. “I mean you look nice. It’s nice. The – your hair is nice.”
Rey grips the top of the broom with both hands and smiles at him, a perfectly pink blush touching her cheeks. Ben’s stomach knots, his chest tight.
“Thank you, Benjamin.”
They stare at each other for a moment and then Rey begins sweeping again.
“I’ve been wondering,” Rey starts, not stopping her task, “why do you only come on Tuesdays, is your job like a hybrid situation? You still have to go into the office?”
“Uh, no.” Ben tries to read some messages but it’s hard. “I work from home the rest of the week.”
“Oh.”
There’s enough silence that he can read a message or two and reply to them.
“Do you… live close by?”
Ben nods. “Yes. You?”
Rey laughs. “Uh, no.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay… this area doesn’t really scream ‘I can afford an apartment here on a barista salary,’ though.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“I shouldn’t ask where you live anyway, I’m just the weird guy who sits here and–”
“You are a weird guy, Benjamin,” Rey says, falling into her usual seat at his table. “But not because you asked where I live after I asked where you live.” Ben looks away from her, pretending to look at some code or something. “It’s because you eat so much rice and unseasoned vegetables and don’t want any flavors in your lattes.”
“It doesn’t need flavors.”
Rey rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
So is he.
\\//
He tries on a Monday. Finally.
It’s impossible to ignore the way his heart thumps hard against his ribcage when he sees her. Like all the hope and worry that was storming inside him let go into the thump-thump of the muscle at the sight of her. It’s scary, quite concerning really, but it’s hard for him to think about now when she blinks up at him before doing a double take. Her eyes widen, soft and beautiful and light up like they actually have twinkling stars in them. Then there’s a flush on her cheeks and she stands up taller, a hand going to her hair, smoothing some of it back into her half ponytail. His heart continues to beat in a joyous, loud rhythm inside his chest as he walks up to the counter, lips fighting back a smile that would show every bit of his teeth to her.
“Hi, Benjamin,” she says, breathy and surprised in its delivery, something new to her voice. She’s usually so loud and excited to see him, but this is different. Not bad, necessarily.
“Hi, Rey.”
There’s a pause and then someone clears their throat to Ben’s right and he looks over and blinks rapidly at the apparition standing there.
Or it has to be an apparition… was this woman standing there when he came in?
“Oh, sorry, oh my God” Rey stutters, blinking. She gestures to the woman next to Ben. “This is Rose. Rose, this is Benjamin.”
“Hi,” Ben says to the woman. Rose. “Hi, Rose.”
“Benjamin,” Rose says, hitting every syllable of his name with a very weird emphasis – something like entertained suspicion.
“I’m sorry, were you in line? I’m sorry–”
“No, no,” Rey and Rose say together. Rey laughs and then continues, “This is my best friend, Rose, she comes by and loiters every now and then.”
“And eat day old cookies, thank you very much,” Rose says, smiling. Rey rolls her eyes, the blush still staining her cheeks. “We were just catching up. Talking about boys.”
“Okay,” Rey yells, practically flying across the counter to push Rose toward the door. “She was just leaving, she’s very busy.”
“I’m unemployed.”
“She must find a job–”
“I’m taking a breather.”
“The point is, she’s leaving now.”
“Oh my God,” Rose sighs, laughing, her head flying back. “Fine, okay, I just wanted to get to know the infamous Benjamin.” This time Ben catches the way she says his voice, dreamy and sing-songy. His stomach flips.
When Ben turns back to Rey, she’s beet red, her eyes downcast on the tablet that she’s tapping. Ben finally can come down from the strange anxiety that came with watching Rey and Rose fight and tease together. Seeing Rey with Rose was interesting, like a familiar version of her that also seemed new. He wasn’t sure how to take the realization that whoever she was with her best friend was someone he knew also, at least a little. He hid away from most people and, sometimes, he wasn’t sure who his real self was, especially for the last ten years or so. He got lost somewhere, almost forever, and he isn’t sure if he’s really found yet. His parents found him, took him in again and loved him again in a way that doesn’t feel deserved and also feels too little too late all at once.
“Infamous?” Ben asks.
“She – I… well, I–”
“It’s okay,” Ben says, his gut twisting at the way she struggles to figure out what to say. It’s like watching himself try to get through a grocery check out line interaction. “I’ll have a latte, please. And” – he leans over the pastry case – “a cheese danish.”
Rey is grateful to just tap along the tablet and plate up his danish. He taps his phone on the reader and accepts the plate wordlessly. He finds his place and Rey works behind the counter, the sounds of her drink making filling the air. He answers a few messages before she brings him his drink. She sits across from him.
“I’m sorry about Rose, she is embarrassing,” she says, reaching across the table to pull a piece of danish off his plate. She eats it. Ben’s body hums, something so intimate about sharing food swirling between them that she seems oblivious to. “But I love her. Like a sister, really.”
“Siblings, I hear, are supposed to be embarrassing and difficult.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Rey mumbles, mean and defeated.
“Me either,” Ben supplies quickly.
Rey blinks, surprised. Maybe she didn’t mean to say that outloud.
“So, no siblings,” Rey says as if she’s filing away that information about him.
“Nope,” Ben says. “And none for you.”
Rey shakes her head, hunching over a bit. He pushes the plate closer to her and she shyly takes another bite, more self aware this time, and it makes Ben’s heart dance.
“I work a half day on Mondays,” Rey says through a mouthful. “I’m off at noon, Finn should be here soon.”
“Oh,” Ben says, a bit disappointed. “Okay.”
“Do you… I mean it’ll be lunch time.” Ben nods at her words, throat tightening, his palms are sweating. He keeps his eyes on his screen, but he catches glimpses of her taking pieces and pieces of his danish between her fingers as if she also needs a distraction. “I’m already starving, I want to go get a burrito, maybe.”
“Burritos are good,” Ben says.
Rey nods.
Silence lingers between them for a beat or two but then a customer walks in, causing Rey to bolt up from her chair and scurry behind the counter with a greeting.
Ben gets back to work, one bite of danish left, so he savors it.
//\\
His therapist thinks Ben’s best coping strategy is distraction. Not in a way that makes him ignore his feelings, but in a way that gets him out of a spiral. He’s always loved a spiral, the thick tangle of it that only leads deeper and darker, richer and heavier in its weight. Even as a kid Ben remembers sitting up in his bed wondering and berating everything, turning inward about every miserable thing in his life. His parents fighting, his parents disappointment, the laughing at his big ears from classmates, the way he towered over the kids and how his size came with no real power. How he’d love to disappear.
He’s comfortable in it, he always has been. The way his therapist tells it, he probably always will be.
He has spiraled about that, also.
Tonight he’s stuck, so with heaving breaths and racing thoughts he grabs a sweatshirt and his wallet and stomps out of his apartment. A walk, a run, something in between starts. His legs pump and move at different paces. He’s not in the right clothes or shoes for an actual run and that’s what gets him to eventually slow down.
It’s a Saturday so the sidewalks are busy, tables full at the restaurants and bars. He walks mostly in the street to avoid the people. He’s feeling better, his thoughts now down to a low hum as he takes in his surroundings. Lights, movement. It’s nice. The music blares in his ears through his AirPods and it’s nice to not catch anyone’s words, and instead see them in the wave of a hand or bob of a head.
One more block and he’ll cross the street to head home. He’s… proud of how this went. Maybe not perfect but at least he’s out of it. A fear grows in his belly at it coming back once he gets home. He starts cataloging movies he could watch to keep the distraction at bay. Melatonin and sleepy time tea combo routine running through his mind as a step by step guide.
He stops at the corner, waiting for the light to turn when he feels a pull on his arm. His heart leaps in his throat as he’s turned around.
Ben actually gasps, mouth falling open and everything.
Rey is there, holding onto his arm, looking like a fucking vision. Something he’d see when he closes his eyes at night, but nowhere near as beautiful as this. She’s smiling, smiling so big it’s making her eyes squint and dimples show. Her lips are painted a bright red, glitter around her eyes that are adorned with make-up to make them look bigger. Her hair is down, wavy and chestnut and framing her face. She’s wearing a dress, it’s a dark green and tight, so tight he can see every curve of her and she’s taller, her shoes must give her a lift but his eyes can’t make it that far down when there’s so much to see before he can get there.
She’s talking, so he grabs an AirPod out of his ear and the sounds of the street engulf him, so he leans down to hear her through it. They’re so close and she’s not backing up.
“--and so weird, because I knew it was you! You didn’t hear me, obviously, now I see you had those damn things in your ears, I was running after you! In heels, it was hard.”
“Sorry,” is all he manages to get out.
“So? Do you want to come?”
“I’m sorry, I–”
“It’s just the sushi place down there. Just my board game friends, it’s nothing crazy.”
“Uh, well–”
She’s still holding onto his arm, it’s burning him but the heat is welcome and lighting his whole body on fire with it. Warm and comforting while being terrifying somehow.
“Sure,” Ben says because he would never tell her no.
“Yay!” she squeals and pulls him forward. It takes five steps before he realizes that she’s not letting go of his arm, that they will just walk down the sidewalk this way.
When they arrive he feels incredibly under dressed. He’s not even sure he put deodorant on after he took a shower to try to distract himself. He probably stinks. Everybody greets him warmly and he tries to actually register rather than just hear everyone’s names. They’re drinking and he wonders if that’s what led Rey to leap and run after him. It would explain the touching as well.
Rey tells Rose to scoot down and she does, pushing against a guy named Poe, who is whispering with her. Rey plops down and Ben sits next to her. Rey pushes a plate of a half eaten sushi roll toward him and Ben takes a piece between his thumb and forefinger and eats it so he doesn’t have to say anything.
They start back up with their chatter and Ben listens. They’re talking about a movie that came out that Ben of course hasn’t seen, but he enjoys the commentary and they ask him appropriate questions for a newcomer. He orders some sashimi and sake, grateful he thought to grab his wallet in his hurried state out of the house.
Rey drinks next to him, eats bites of rolls and laughs with her whole body. She leans over to Ben to ask if he wants a plate of something across the table, reacts when he gets his food and drink like she’s excited for him to try it. She’s so warm beside him, filled with energy as she laughs with her friends and rubs against this side. They all become louder, order more drinks and food. Even Ben gets another round, enjoying the way his body tingles with it, mellows even. It helps him accept Rey’s touches and even returns them, leans against her when she does the same to him, hands brushing under the table.
Poe is the one who asks for their check and there’s some questioning about who will put down a card and who will Venmo who when Ben puts a hand up and announces he will pay for it.
There’s a chorus of surprised protests.
“It’s fine, I never go out,” Ben says, digging for his wallet. He takes out one of his credit cards he hardly uses but would love some points on and slaps it down on the table.
“Benjamin!” Rey says, grabbing the card. “No.”
“It’s okay, really, I want to. I had fun. Let me, please.”
He did have fun, his head swimming with gratitude, alcohol sloshing pleasantly in his veins. He feels happy, he has money, why wouldn’t he just pay?
Rey stares at him, evaluating, eyes tracing his face. She squints a little and gives a slight nod, whispering, “Okay.”
She turns back to the table.
“Benjamin is buying!” she cheers and everyone else matches her, even if they are still a bit confused.
Chatter engulfs the table again, conversations finishing while coats get shrugged on. Ben signs for the check and they all make their way outside, meandering and elongating their goodbyes on the busy sidewalk. Rey keeps looking at him so he lingers, too, even though he has no loose ends to tie up, no future plans to make. Finally, they start to pull apart, people saying their final farewells and last hugs given.
Ben likes to watch it all, it’s new to him. Even before First Order he didn’t have a lot of friends and he was so young then, it was just college and high school and friendship is different when you’re young and forced to see eachother every day. This is a found friendship circle that genuinely likes to be in each other’s company, has to desperately get one last word in before walking away, finding a new topic to open even though the night is starting to become early morning.
Even his family says quicker goodbyes than this.
Suddenly, it’s just Rose, Rey, and Ben. Rose and Rey are whispering and Ben considers leaning forward to say a goodbye when Rose beats him to it.
Then it’s just them.
Ben and Rey.
Ben tilts his head and watches her, chin ducked down so he can get a nice view of her swaying body. She almost seems shy, but there’s a lift to her lips that tells him maybe not, maybe something else entirely. She’s wearing a jacket now, short and black so he can still see the curve of her hip. Her eyes trail up his body and then to her left, then right. When her gaze pops back up to meet his, his throat closes and his stomach flips.
“Should we get ice cream?” Rey asks.
Ben nods, wondering if any ice cream place is open this late. He leads them back toward his apartment and they find a corner store with a small selection of individual ice cream bars, popsicles, and small containers of ice cream. She gets a fudge bar and Ben opts for, as Rey calls it, “the most boring popsicle choice in the world.” He reasons that it’s made from real fruit. She shoves his shoulder before leaning into him, sending shockwaves through his nervous system. She insists on buying, but doesn’t leave his side during the transaction.
They walk and he continues guiding them to his apartment, like they somehow agreed on it. He’s not sure if Rey knows where they’re going, she just lets him take her down each block without question. Instead, she talks about how she’s so glad she doesn’t have to wake up early tomorrow, laments about her shoes pinching her toes, asks Ben if he likes his fruit stick. He listens and nods, smiles and frowns with concern at the appropriate moments. He offers to carry her and the streetlights give him a peek of her sweet, rosy cheeks.
When his building comes into view, his palms start to sweat. Should he tell her he’s just been leading her here? Not on purpose, not really, and not with the intention of being a momentous creep. His thoughts start to race on how he can smooth this over, maybe he should call her an Uber and wait and pay for it, that way she knows just how much he wasn’t trying to lure her up to his apartment, into his bed.
Fuck – now he’s thinking about her in his bed, that green dress gone, those torturous shoes by his front door.
“Rey, sorry.” He’s interrupting her quietly obsessing about the old building on the corner of his block. He likes that building, too, the deep red doors and iron accents are always a relief among the overwhelming amount of new, modern buildings. “Sorry, I–this is my building.”
He stops and gestures to it, tall and of the newer sleek, modern places that dot the area, that lack those red door and iron details. He pulls out his phone and starts opening the Uber app.
“You don’t – I will get you an Uber, I was just walking, I didn’t mean to bring you here or anything.”
Rey looks at his building, up and up and up, and back to him. He’s fiddling around on the app, but can sense her watching him, eyes roaming and evaluating again.
“Why not?” she asks.
Ben looks up from his phone now. Her hazel eyes are on him, almost doe-like in the way they look up from beneath her eyelashes. There’s a gloss to them from the alcohol that still lingers in her bloodstream. She’s so soft here, in the glow of street lights and headlights of passing cars on his very familiar street.
“I… what do you mean?” Ben asks. His heart is thumping hard and rapidly again. The sweat starts in his palm, he can feel it against the back of his phone.
“Why didn’t you want to bring me here?”
Ben puts up his hands. “That’s not what I said, I do want you here, I just–”
Rey’s eyebrows shoot up and she points at him as her mouth falls open, like she’s caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. He watches her tilt her head and sway forward until her finger jabs him in the chest playfully. Ben’s voice gets lost in his throat, overrun by a fire in his chest. His brain is reaching for something to say, to explain that he would always want her around him, of course he wants her here, he wants her everywhere.
But he didn’t try to lure her here, and he’s realizing he didn’t ask her where she wanted to go, if he could take the train with her home or get her a ride after ice cream.
Rey is closer now, so much closer, less teasing in her gaze, but still playful. There’s warmth from her, her body, practically touching his, and she’s never been this close to him, sure they sat shoulder to shoulder at dinner, but this is somehow so much closer.
He swallows.
“You want me here?” Her voice is the sweetest whisper, so distant from her loud hellos and teasing variations of his name she shouts when his lattes are ready.
Ben nods.
“Words, Benjamin,” she prompts and it sends a shiver down his spine.
“Yes, I want you here.”
“I want to be here, too,” she says. There’s a touch to his fingers and he reacts quickly, surprising himself. Their fingers twine and then the other hand mirrors the same motion. “I would’ve gone home with Rose otherwise.”
“Oh.”
“Do you,” Rey says, eyes flicking up to the sky in mock concentration, “want me to come up?”
“Yes,” he says so quickly, he should be embarrassed but he’s out of capacity for it. “If you want,” he corrects instead.
“I do,” Rey says. “You probably should invite me up.”
Ben swallows, watching her, waiting for her to think twice, to take it back, but she doesn’t.
“Would you like to come up?” His voice has also dropped to a whisper, this entire conversation so quiet and private. Just for them.
“I would love to,” Rey says, bouncing on her toes, her smile big and wonderful.
He leads the way through the lobby of his building, the unremarkable, boring furniture staring back at him like usual, but it’s different this time. The elevator’s mirrored walls reflect back not only himself but Rey, too, and he’s dizzy with the vision of them over and over again. Not just her, a sight he’s become comfortable with these last few months, a sight he craves, that makes his skin tingle, and head swim, but also him. Them. Together. Her with her green dress that hugs her and his lounge pants and zip up hoodie. Her tan skin and bright lips and his pale face and dark hair that he’s let go too long. Their fingers brush just as doors open.
It’s a few steps to his door and he’s unlocking it and pushing through, flipping the light switch as he toes off his shoes like he always does. The foyer feels smaller with her in it. She’s taking off her shoes, too, even leaning down to pick them up and place them neatly next to the line of his that are near the door.
“Your coat,” Ben says, whispers, grunts. His voice is getting caught in his throat again. He’s so nervous he can feel a shake in his fingers as he takes her jacket and puts it on the black coat hanger. He takes off his hoodie.
“This is nice,” Rey says, walking past him to the window that overlooks the city. He’s not in the highest floor, nor in the tallest building, but the view is still nice, especially at night with all the lights shining back at him like stars.
“Thanks.” Ben clears his throat, willing his voice to work normally. “Uh, can I get you anything? Water? I have some wine. Red.”
“Water sounds nice.”
Ben nods, making his way to the kitchen and pulling out a glass. He fills it from the water dispenser in his fridge and places it on the counter, fingers still trembling as he pulls away just in time for her to walk up and grab it.
She takes a long drink, neck moving with each swallow. Her hair is tousled a little, frizzing from their walk in the cold. But when she puts the cup down, her lips are wet and beautiful, lightly stained from her lipstick, no longer as vibrant from her feast of sushi and ice cream. Despite it being the early morning hours, she looks awake and vibrant in the soft glow of his kitchen.
Fuck. She’s in his kitchen. She came with him to his apartment and asked… well asked to be asked to come up to his apartment. Him. Benjamin Chewbacca Organa Solo. Corporate sell out depressed machine turned loner depressed weirdo. A man who barely survived the last ten years of his life, barely came out of it alive, and came out the other side, someone who needed to be coaxed out of his apartment once a week.
And out of every stupid hipster coffee shop in his neighborhood, whatever splattering of corporate chains of coffee places he could’ve chosen to work at, he chose the dumpiest one, the most hole in the wall one he could find because he didn’t want to really, not really, find anyone there. But he did anyway.
Rey.
Rey in his apartment, in his kitchen, placing her lips, again, on one of his glasses so she can drink water from his fridge. Wearing deep green that makes the shades of green in her eyes peek out at him from beneath her lashes as the glass gets placed on the counter, this time empty. Rey whose cheeks are pink as she takes one, two steps closer to him, rounding his kitchen counter. She’s close, maybe the closest she’s ever been to him now.
He’s been looking at her for weeks, months, and how has he never noticed how the freckles along the bridge of her nose trail even more across the top of her cheeks, just underneath her eyes? Was the lighting never right in The Outpost? Is the sun’s reappearance in the spring months making them pop against her skin? Her eyes move down to his chest, then up to his lips, then his eyes again. His breaths are coming so quick now, deep and fast, but not in the way they did before he walked out of his apartment earlier this evening, fighting off the onslaught of thoughts that were building, building, building on top of each other.
Now he can only think of her. Everything from the chestnut color of her hair, the soft pink plushness of her lips, the sharp angles of her clavicle, the soft, small curve of her breasts, hell even the arch of her eyebrows is registering in his mind, cataloging all the data he can about her. Rey, right in front of him, in his apartment, in his kitchen. A place she chose to be, with him, a person she chose to be with.
“Are you okay?” she whispers, her eyes going back to his chest before her hand lifts and places her palm there, right over his beating heart.
He looks down and watches her hand, soft and small with bitten fingernails, rise and fall with his deep, quick breaths. He nods.
“Yes,” he says.
“Okay,” she whispers and she takes one more step into his body, keeping her hand on his chest. “Benjamin, do you want to kiss me?”
Her gaze flicks back up to his eyes and he’s sure his brain short circuits at the question, but his body doesn’t seem to be having the same problem, because his hands slide up her biceps, slipping over her shoulders, thumbs brushing just a little along her her throat before he’s cupping her jaw on either side. Her eyes widen just for a moment, but she adjusts as if she knows she might scare him off. How does she fucking know?
He licks his lips and a small, deep whine escapes from the back of his throat before he can get a word out, but then he does, and that word is, “Yes.”
“Good,” she says, and the word ignites a little flame in his gut, something new and rich that takes hold. “Then do it.” She takes a breath, his thumb moving just under her bottom lip. “Please.”
He pulls and falls and then their lips are pressing together. Finally.
They both breathe out when they connect, like something is being released. Ben crowds into her, their bodies swaying as she tries to accommodate him invading her space. He turns them so the counter can support her against her back, but his lips stay soft and slow, relishing in the feel of her from the press of lips to the push of knees. There’s an adjustment, as if they’re both trying to figure out how to fit together so they can be as close as possible. He puts a leg between hers, she slips her hands around his waist, pushing thumbs into the waistband of his jeans so she can pull him closer.
He pulls away, but just to move his nose to the other side of hers and tilt his lips differently before pressing them against hers again. This time his lips aren’t fully closed when he does it so there’s an invitation to explore each other’s mouths in a new way. Her tongue teases first and he makes a sound, something of a moan that sounds so pathetic and desperate, but there’s no time to think about it because she nips at his bottom lip so he tries it, too, and it’s like something new takes over.
His hands slide a little down her jaw so he can press down on her chin, opening her mouth to him. She pulls harder on his waist and he must be suffocating her. Her tongue is in his mouth, pushing against his own with slow, beautiful strokes that send lightening down his body with each pass. Her hands slide up beneath his shirt, her soft, small hands exploring his skin without finesse. He arches against her touch, gasps when she pushes below his belly button, pulls back just enough to keep their mouths together so she can reach each inch of his chest. When his shirt rides up, he lifts his arms and she makes quick work of his shirt.
“Fuck,” Rey says, finally pulling away so she can look at him.
Her eyes on him, mixed with the adrenaline from kissing her, kissing Rey, is dizzying. He wants to kiss her again, to keep her eyes off him, he wants to curl in on himself, even as her gaze is hungry and desperate over every inch of his exposed torso.
“You’re so hot,” Rey says between deep, gulping breaths. Ben’s spine tingles at the praise, the tendrils of buzzing heat seeping to the rest of his body. Her hands explore him and Ben closes his eyes. “No, look, you’re… fuck, Benjamin, look at you.”
“Rey–”
“Just, really. It’s unreal.”
She laughs, shaking her head. Just a hitch of her breath, like she can’t believe she’s here. That she’s looking at him, touching him. Her hands are all over him, and then her nails which make him gasp and fall forward, caging her in as his hands catch on the edge of the counter on either side of her.
“Rey,” he whines, letting his mouth drop to her shoulder, pressing on skin.
He licks her there, tasting salt and the air of the city. She whines, then gasps as his lips find her pulse and suck, tongue swirling between his lips. She mumbles his name, the N elongated in the middle before she finishes it. She says, “yes,” she places a hand on his neck to keep him locked there, as if he’s found the best part of her to cherish.
But he knows that cannot be true. He knows there’s somewhere else.
The thought makes his hips press against her and she follows, her hips rolling above his thigh. A soft, “Oh,” escapes her lips and she does it again. And again.
“Ben–Benjamin,” she gasps, and he finally takes his lips off her neck. He sees the red mark there and something wicked stirs in his gut at the sight. Her hands go back to the waistband of his jeans, but this time to slide underneath, against his skin, bypassing the fabric and the waistband of his boxers. “You okay?” she asks again.
“Yes,” he groans. He’s glad he has the grip of the counter in his hands to keep him upright.
She pushes down his thighs, his pants, his underwear going down with her hands. His dick springs free, hard and leaking, and he wants to take a step back, but she’s quicker, taking his waist in her hands again to keep him close.
“Remember,” Rey says, eyes low on his dick, her hand reaching, but not quite touching yet. She must see, she must feel, the shake in his thighs, the anticipation shaking his entire body. He should start undressing her, he should start touching her, but his knuckles are turning white on the counter. “Remember, when you told me” – her fingers finally make contact, feather light and curiously touching along his shaft, only the soft tap of her pinky touching the ruddy head of him – “how to get better sleep?”
Ben nods, and he’s never been harder in his life, more close to coming. He has to get a hold of himself, she has to slow down, even though she’s going so incredibly slow already.
“No one, and I mean no one, has ever taken care of me.” Her fingers finally wrap around him and she softly pumps, the grip so soft and languid as she moves up and down, up and down. He’s whimpering, so pathetic in his own ears, but it makes her hand move faster, he thinks. “Ever, Benjamin. Look at me.” He does. He moans, the loudest he’s been all night. His jaw is hanging open. He wants to kiss her. “You take such good care of me.”
“Rey, oh my – fuck, you have to stop.”
Rey stops. “Are you okay?”
He takes a few deep breaths and nods. “Yes, you’re just… it’s good. I’m… just give me a minute.” He feels hot and pathetic all at once. Her words are lighting fires deep in his belly, somewhere low and unknown. He isn’t sure if it’s her touch, her words, all of it, but he can’t keep up.
He kisses her because he wants to and maybe it will give him just a minute to figure his shit out and also not cum all over her hand and her dress. She answers in earnest, tongue darting back in his mouth. He’s hungry for her, kissing and lapping inside her mouth as if all his knowledge of kissing went out the window, replaced with unhinged desperation. His hands are back along her jaw, in her hair, trailing over her body. She’s unzipping her dress, pushing the zipper down her side and pulling her arms out of the straps so she can wriggle out of it.
He has to pull away because he needs to see her. Dress gone, no bra, a flimsy thong covering just the front of her. His eyes flick up to hers for just a moment, as if asking permission for him to touch her. She arches, pushing her breasts toward him and he takes that as a yes, so he touches her, taking her tits in each hand, squeezing. Her response is electrifying. Her head goes back, elongating her throat, the start of the bruise he made at her pulse point glowing in the soft light. He wants to make another mark, but he is stuck watching his big fingers roll over her dusty nipples, hardening under his touch. He loves the loll of her head as she gasps and moans. He has to take it all in.
Her hips roll so he pushes his thigh harder against her, a little higher so she can easily grind there. This time his leg is bare and she only has the thin, small fabric of her underwear between their bodies and he can feel her wet heat on him.
“Rey,” he groans, “you’re–uh, Rey–”
“I’m wet, so fucking wet for you,” she says, hips rolling faster now, harder now. “Just from your hands, Benja–ah–Benjamin.”
Ben groans and slips a hand to her hip to help her grind against him, and as much as it pains him to stop watching her, he has to put his mouth on her breast. The mewl she lets out when he does is lethal and it goes straight to his dick.
His tongue swirls over her nipple and then sucks, an alternating rhythm that she chases along with her hips. Her fingers slip into his hair and instead of gripping him, pushing him, she just trails them through his hair over and over like she’s practically petting him and it heats him from the inside out. Her voice is light and shaky as she swears, says his name, tells him how amazing he feels, how good, good, good.
He breaks away, shaking and panting. His forehead rests on her shoulder and her hips slow, her fingers still playing in his hair. They both catch their breath, simultaneously being hungry for release. He slowly leans forward and kisses the space between her shoulder and breast until he’s moving lower and finding a spot on her breast for him to suckle and bruise, just like he did on her neck. She lets him, moaning above him, fingers still soothing his scalp until he’s satisfied, leaning back to look at his work. She’s pink and wet there and he can’t wait to see the purpling start.
“Do you have a bed in here? A couch, even?” she asks.
Ben smiles, letting his teeth show and everything and she kisses it, her lips catching his teeth but he doesn’t care. They adjust and kiss, little soft things that are tough to do because of all the smiling.
He steps out of his pants fully and she follows him while pushing and stepping out of her underwear and they walk hand in hand through his apartment, naked.
He doesn’t turn the light on in his room, but she does. He wants to curl and hide his naked body, but she’s quick to push him on the bed before he can think of it. He pushes himself back as she crawls up his body, laying together horizontally on his bed, just below his pillows.
“I’m clean and have an IUD, but if you want a condom–”
“It’s okay, I’m clean.”
He hasn’t had sex in so long. So fucking long and it–whenever the fuck it was–didn’t feel anything like this and he hasn’t even been inside her.
“If you’re sure,” she says.
“I’m sure.”
She kisses him and throws a leg over his waist so she can straddle him. His hand finds her thigh on the other side and slips up, up, up.
She gasps as his fingers touch the crease between her thigh and the center of her. Her mouth falls away from his and she holds herself up so she can look down between them. His fingers feel her heat, feel the slick that’s dripping out of her and he’s getting dizzy, thankful they’re laying down.
“Oh, Benjamin,” she whispers, just as his fingers slip a little more, lining her, catching the wetness and sliding it around her lips, just out of the reach of her clit with each turn. “Oh my God.” She bucks into his hand, trying desperately to get him to move along, so he does, finally swirling his fingers over her clit. “You… fuck, yes, you–you feel so good.”
Ben’s hips buck up at her words, his brain completely fried now. He’s only made up of nerve endings and Pavlovian responses to her words, like the word “good” has lodged itself in his brain, his dick, and he has no choice but to respond with it.
“Rey,” he whispers and she rolls her hips along his hand, until his index finger slips along her hole, once, twice, before he pushes in.
“Ah!”
She kisses him, her tongue greedy for his. They kiss, another finger joining before he adds a third, curling and pushing with each thrust. She rides his hand the best she can while keeping up with their kisses.
She finally pulls away, her legs shaking.
“No, no, I want to cum on your dick,” she pants. “Please.”
As much as he wants to chase an orgasm that’s obviously building, he would never deny her.
His fingers slip out of her and she moves lower, lining him up beneath her. She sits up and her hand slides from his chest to his dick to help guide him. He notches at the opening of her cunt and Ben gasps.
“Do you also remember, Benjamin,” she says, her hips moving in gentle circles above him, just enough to cause a bit of friction along the head of his dick. His eyes flutter closed, feeling, but then he remembers she’s speaking and fuck, she kills him when she speaks. “All those times you insisted on paying because you’re an honest man, so good.”
Oh she knows now, he sees it in the glint in her eye and the way she sinks just a little on his dick when she hits the D of her last word. He doesn’t give a shit, it feels good just the same. He wants to fight her, tell her that he’s worked for the fucking devil and did every deed he wanted with a chokehold on his neck and his spine straight. That is, until he almost couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take himself anymore, couldn’t take this life anymore. He’s so broken, he wants to tell her.
“Rey,” he whimpers.
“I know,” she coos, and another spike of heat goes straight to the bottom of his belly, to his dick. “You’re okay,” she says. “You’re just good, Benjamin so–” She sinks a little lower and Ben is desperately hanging on, willing himself not to push his hips up, not to grab her own hips and slam her down. “And you let me eat your food, you offered your lunch to me. You–fuck Benjamin, I have to–I…”
“Please, Rey,” he pleads. As much as he hangs on every word, craves it, he needs her to fuck him.
She sinks down, so hot and wet and tight. She breathes through it, as if he’s pushing the air out of her. Rey’s jaw is slack as she looks down, watching the first few rolls of her hips, at the way they connect, how full she is of him. His eyes roll back and he just feels her move on top of him, hot and perfect with each push of her hips.
She rides him, his hands steady on her thighs, gripping and aiding her movements. She’s moaning and panting above him and he’s watching, enraptured by the pleasure he brings her. He misses her lips desperately, but it takes so long for him to disrupt the rhythm she’s set for herself, captivated by it. But there’s a lull in her movements that gives him the in he craves, and he pushes off the mattress and wraps his arms around her hips, their chests pressing together.
“Oh,” she gasps, a smile blooming along her lips.
He kisses it away and they kiss as their bodies adjust to sitting together. Her legs wrap around his waist and he slides them so his feet can touch the floor and give him the balance and leverage he needs. She gets her fingers back in his hair and he practically purrs along her tongue. His hands finally make their way to her ass and she sighs into his mouth. He pushes and she rolls her hips and she finds a new rhythm here, noses bumping and mouths clumsy with moans and tongues.
“Deep,” Rey moans, almost slurring the word. “You’re so deep, Benjamin, fuck.”
“Ah, Rey.” His fingers dig into her ass and he helps her roll and push her hips over and over and there’s even a bounce to her movements now and it’s making him go fucking crazy. Her name keeps spilling out of his mouth like it’s the only word he knows.
“Benjamin, you feel so good.” Her words send shockwaves through him, deep and low and he’s never been this close to coming while desperately not wanting to. He doesn’t want to stop and she hasn’t fucking come yet. He’s groaning and hissing, trying to breathe through it, his fingers digging into her the flesh of her ass in desperation. “Ah, fuck, wait.”
She moves, slipping a little away from his chest, holding onto his shoulders. His dick is so hard inside her, his balls tight. A hand leaves his hair and moves to where they are joined, her fingers pushing against her clit and moving with quick, practiced strokes.
“Fuck,” he groans and grabs her waist so he can roll her hips for her.
She’s screaming now, as if this was it, just a few circles along her clit and his dick to ride for her to crash over. He can feel the wave of her orgasm all around him, squeezing his dick and goosebumps erupting along her skin beneath his fingers. She’s trembling now, body limp as he keeps rolling her over his dick because she begs him to, begs him to keep going as she hiccups in aftershocks, his name falling from her mouth, body flush against his chest again, lips lazily kissing his neck, her voice soft there as words slip from her mouth.
“Please, Benjamin,” she says between curses, between breaths. “You make me feel so good, you’re doing so well.” He groans and speeds her hips up in his hands. His brain is swirling, hardly keeping up with her words, the feel of her. “You’ll fill me up, please? Please.”
He does, oh fuck, he does. He’s emptying inside her, painting every inch of her cunt with his spend. He shakes in her arms, her fingers slipping to the nape of his neck to play with the soft hair there as she whispers his name into his skin. More praise slips there along his neck, words like “good” and “incredible” leaving imprints on his skin. When she pushes on his shoulder and they fall to the bed, she kisses his lips again, soothing him with her lips and his fingers in a way that no one’s ever done before.
She said he took care of her, and maybe that’s true, because he’d do anything for her, even if he apparently didn’t register anything he was doing. But she’s taking care of him, nurturing him in a way no one has done before, no one has thought to take the time to do, no one dared to try.
Rey goes to the bathroom after she tells him she will be back and he doesn’t move the entire time she’s gone, gazing up at the ceiling he’s looked at during many sleepless nights. But instead of restless pity and depreciation, he’s euphoric under the weight of the ceiling. Light as a feather.
Rey returns and pulls him up and he’s sticky against her body as they kiss.
She pulls away with a quick last kiss and blinks up at him. She looks thoroughly fucked and it plants a seed inside him, something like pride. Something he has never really felt before.
“Do you want me to spend the night?” Rey asks.
Ben nods, almost too eagerly. He should be embarrassed but it stays away, only lingers in the shadows.
“Words, Benjamin,” she says, mouth lifting in a smile.
“Yes, Rey,” he says, leaning down to pick her up. She squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck as he holds her in a bridal carry. She laughs and it fills every inch of his room in light, in joy. “Please stay the night.”
She kisses his nose and nuzzles into his neck, her words vibrating his skin.
“I’d love to.”