AN: This is for the lovely, magnificent ClockworkCourier over on AO3, aka one of my biggest friend-crushes in the Reylo community. I'm so glad that I'm finally getting to know you! I hope you love this and it fills you with romantic warm fuzzies. 3 (This fic was done for AO3's Reylo Valentines' Gift Exchange.)
Title is credit to Paul Baribeau, who has a lot of lovely songs that were a great inspiration for lovestruck, angsty Ben.
(Special shoutout to my beta, who is honestly one of my favorite people ever and did an incredible job of reading this over.)
Ben Solo knows that, in theory, there are worse things than being in love with your best friend. He's a fairly well-adjusted adult, considering that his childhood was built on the high-frequency arguments of his parents (and their resulting hatesex, which has sent him to therapy many a time). He's also well aware that in the grand scheme of things, having unrequited feelings for a girl might not be the end of the world.
Really, the deck of cards that life has dealt him should be more than satisfying. He has a stable, well-paying job at his uncle's dojo, and he has several friends (okay, slight exaggeration, but he's fine with the few he has) as well as nice apartment right in the heart of D'Qar.
None of this has even the slightest impact on the fact that he is hopelessly in love with Rey Kenobi. Or that, despite the comfort of his surrounding life, it's all meaningless without her. Ben is one of the first people to admit that his ambitious personality makes it hard to ever just settle.
Placing the blame is easy enough: for some godforsaken reason, the Kenobi and Skywalker clans have been close friends for several generations, and his unfortunate relation to his mother has thrust him into frequent contact with the Kenobi family for the entirety of his life.
Not for the first time, Ben wishes that Han Solo could have found some other woman to fall in love with. It isn't that he hates his mother – he loves her endlessly and would kill for her – but it's just that his life would be so much simpler without the existence of Skywalkers, or Rey fucking Kenobi.
It's a double-edged sword that Ben has nine years on her age – being geographically far away from her has helped him come to terms with their friendship (or so he pretends), but he wishes sometimes that they could have experienced life simultaneously. Maybe he could have been a potential love interest that way, as someone younger and closer to her life experiences.
The worst part is how significant her impact is on his life. He doesn't see her that often now that he's moved to D'Qar, but they're in frequent contact, thanks to the wonders of technology. And not an hour goes by that Ben doesn't think of her, of what she could possibly be doing during her last summer before entering college. He likens his affection for her to a disease, terminal and crawling through every single part of his body.
He's had years to think of hypotheticals and unreal fantasies, though, and they're the products of a world that Ben knows is impossible.
"Just give her up," Hux tells him for the umpteenth time. They're at the First Order, one of the many college dive bars riddled throughout the city, and Hux is bartending as Ben sits across the bar from him.
"Yeah," he says, condescension coloring his voice. "Why didn't I think of that? Just stop being in love with her, fantastic idea."
"Don't get pissy with me," the redhead responds with a sneer as he pours Ben another shot of Patron. "You're the one drinking your sorrows away like your life's a horrible romance novel."
It isn't beneficial to bite the hand that feeds him, so he trades his scathing reply for the shot in front of him. Beckoning for a refill, he declares, "I'd love nothing more than to move on, believe me."
The long-suffering sigh that Hux offers him in return is one that Ben's quite familiar with. He knows that the redhead is emphatically over hearing about his moping, but he doesn't exactly have anyone else to complain to.
In the dim lighting of the bar, Ben sweeps his gaze around the bar stools and booths.
A woman across the room has been eyeing him for the past ten minutes, and he thinks about how easily he could seduce her. Just a few murmured words and a smirk, and he could have her moaning within minutes. She's attractive enough, Asian with long, dark hair and fine features that would look fabulous while in the throes of pleasure.
It sounds dreadful, though.
Ben groans and slams his head against the shiny wood of the bar.
He hasn't always been in love with Rey Kenobi. Things were much simpler when she was a pigtailed little brat trailing after him whenever their families got together, and he truly longs for those days of innocence to return.
The dynamics of their relationship had changed significantly when her parents died. She'd been eight when they were killed in an automotive accident and had moved from Jakku to D'Qar to live with her grandfather. Ben remembers all too clearly when Rey had transformed from a bubbly child into a stick-thin, walking ghost of a girl, face marred by the bruises under her eyes. She had always vied for his attentions, trying to get him to read to her or play, and he had always refrained. Playing with little kids wasn't what high schoolers did. After the accident, though, Rey had withdrawn horribly, and he began to miss her constant badgering.
It was around this time that Ben, finally grown into his gangly body and attending his final year of high school, had given in to the temptation to show her the ounce of kindness she so clearly needed. Getting her to open up and express any sort of emotion had seemed a daunting task, but Ben needn't have worried about it. As soon as he had made the earnest effort to befriend her, she'd opened up like a well-tended flower in the sunlight, positively glowing at his attentions and always overeager to please him.
His family had begun to joke about the Rey-sized tumor constantly attached to his leg, and maybe having a short ten year old chasing after him and asking, Bennn, pleeease can we go to the park? ruined the emo image he had cultivated for several years, but privately the thought didn't bother him much.
And really, the affection he felt for her whenever she flashed that adorable grin should have been a sufficient warning sign.
He can pinpoint the exact moment that the begrudging respect he had for the feisty young girl transformed into something entirely different for the beautiful young woman that she became. (It's horrible to even think of, though, and he tries to avoid it.)
The Skywalkers and the Kenobis had booked a weekend retreat at a condo in the coastal city of Dajasufer, much to Ben's disdain. He hated the sandy atmosphere of the beach, and even his mother's pleas to "Try and have a good time, Ben," couldn't remove the permanent scowl etched onto his face. Honestly, he was an adult, and going on a family vacation was beyond childish.
He'd managed to stay hidden under the safety of a beach umbrella for the majority of the trip, not feeling particularly inclined to risk the sunburns as he shot glowers towards the general antics of his family.
One the second day, Rey had ran into the ocean with all of the glee a teenager who spent many of her formative years in a desolate desert could muster, and Ben entertained himself by keeping an eye on her ridiculous excitement.
When she emerged from the sea to make her way up the hand, skin was bronzed under the attentions of the sun, it hit Ben suddenly that her hips had an attractive, curved flare to them that spoke of maturity. When exactly had she developed into a woman? The small black bikini she had on looked almost sinful, and the water glistening on her tan stomach was incredibly alluring.
It was an awful thought to have, and Ben blanched.
"You look like someone killed your cat," Rey quipped as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself.
He had meant to retort with some witty comeback, but instead all that filled Ben's mind was the horrifying realization that somehow, between the time Rey had left the ocean and walked up to where their towels and chairs were set up, he had become frighteningly hard.
The scramble for something, anything to cover himself up – swimming trunks were not ideal for disguising erections – was frantic, and she looked at him bizarrely as his chair nearly tipped over in the desperate grab for a book to place over his lap.
"You're so weird," Rey huffed, and then she was turning away to lay her towel out in the sun and lie on it.
He had studiously avoided looking at the curve of her legs and the revealed skin of her back the rest of the afternoon.
(And so Ben Solo's heart was stolen.)
He's away from the the busy city on a visit to his parents for a week, and Rey is absolutely going to want to hang out. He does want to see her during his vacation, although Ben has to stifle the disapproving voice that mutters in his mind about how being in contact will only make things worse. (It sounds suspiciously similar to Hux.) They schedule a time to hang out, and the cocktail of bittersweet emotion that tangles in his gut at seeing her after months of no physical interaction has him simultaneously thrilled and anxious.
He ought not to have worried, though, because she cancels on him at the last minute, something about Poe needing to rush his cat to the hospital and her necessary presence as moral support. Maybe it's for the best that they don't cross paths, and this is some kind of sign from God (or his grandfather) that avoiding her is the best course of action.
It's his last day in town when his parents get into another argument about something stupid. Ben slips out of the house unnoticed with a book and his phone, and thinks that maybe he'll go to the park and read for a bit until his parents settle down. It's a fairly nice day out, and there are plenty of shady spots at the nearby park where he can relax and not fear risking a sunburn on his pale skin.
As he's wandering down the concrete path toward the park, his phone vibrates in his pocket and Ben pulls it out to see that Rey's calling him.
"Hey," he greets her, and winces internally at how breathy his voice sounds. Seriously, could his life not be a cliched romantic tragedy?
"Ben," Rey starts, and he's known her for too long to be oblivious to the tone of her voice. She's about to ask him a favor.
"What's up?"
"So Poe mentioned that your apartment is close to RU and you were looking for a roommate..."
Oh, no. Ben has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly where this conversation is headed, and it clearly spells disaster.
"Yeah," he says, drawing out the word as he silently prays to any deity that she isn't about to ask to move in.
"Well, since I'm starting RU in August, and need a place to live, how does my very best friend feel about rooming together?"
The words are a thinly veiled command, he realizes. It sounds deceptively like a request, but Rey certainly isn't unaware of how easily he will bend to her will. He should say no, vocalize clearly how awful an idea it is for her to be in his personal space on a permanent basis (especially during her freshman year of college), but instead of articulating these thoughts aloud, his mind is already fantasizing about what living with her will be like. Rey, clad only in a tightly-wrapped towel clinging to her slim frame as she slips out of their shared bathroom and into her own room. Rey, smiling and laughing with him on his well-worn couch as they watch stupid movies on television. Rey, cursing in frustration as their apartment fills with dark smoke in another failed attempt at cooking.
He's already a goner, isn't he?
"Is that a no, then?"
Shit, he hasn't said anything yet. It would be a lie to say that he didn't know his answer the moment she asked him.
"Of course," Ben says, and Rey's resounding, "Hell yes, thank you so much!" makes him smile even as something dark gnaws at his insides at the thought of how selfish he's being by agreeing.
He really is sealing his own fate, here.
On a warm, sunny day in the middle of August, Rey rolls up to his apartment complex in her light blue Mustang with the intent of invading his life like a toxin in his bloodstream. All things considered, seeing her bright smile from inside the car shouldn't startle him so much - after all, he's been mentally preparing himself for this for weeks - but he still has to remind himself to breathe.
"Have a safe drive?" Ben asks as she cuts the car engine and climbs out.
"Yeah. Took forever, though," she responds as she moves to open the trunk, and Ben makes his way over to help out with her things.
"Is this all you've got?" If his voice sounds incredulous, it's only because the trunk is holding a few suitcases, presumably packed full with clothes, and three boxes that are sealed shut with packing tape. Ben's always been under the impression that girls typically have a lot of stuff.
"I left most of it at my grandpa's," she explains. "Besides, I figured you'd already have all the pots and pans and furniture sorted, since you've lived here for so long."
"Taking advantage of me and you haven't even stepped foot inside the apartment yet," he sighs. She's right, though – he's lived in his apartment for almost two years now and most of the essentials are currently inhabiting the cupboards and rooms of his living space.
"What?" Rey laughs as she tugs the biggest suitcase out of her trunk. "You're not here to be my personal servant?"
The thought of serving her like that has him thinking of being on his knees with her hips pressing up against his face, and Ben forces that train of thought to halt. "You'd have to pay me fairly well for that kind of service," he responds, hoping his tone of voice is close enough to the teasing, playful one of their standard ribbing that it disguises his slightly-aroused interest.
"Alas, I am but a poor college student, unable to afford such a luxury."
She's so adorable that all he wants to do is take her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but instead he laughs. "I'm far too busy to spend all of my time waiting on your every need, anyway."
Rey narrows her eyes at him in a poor attempt at a severe look, although her lips are twitching. "You're too rude, I've changed my mind and I'll find somewhere else to live."
Despite the fact that she really should find somewhere else to live, her words send him into a bit of a panic. He clears his throat to dispel his rising anxiety, and he offers a convincingly lighthearted, "Be my guest, Rey. But good luck finding a place that will be as fantastic as mine..."
"Ugh, you're insufferable," she groans. "But right, it's too much effort." And when she commands him, with her head held high and nose tilted mockingly in the air, "Servant, bring my things inside," he can't help but shake his head and obey with quiet laughter.
Living with Rey in his 800-square-foot apartment is as about as awful as he had expected it to be.
She's a great roommate on paper: Rey is fairly quiet because of her intensive astrophysics workload, has similar taste in trashy television as him, possesses a working vehicle (unlike him), and she has too few belongings to really clutter up the apartment. But she's an awful cook, and the small backyard attached to his apartment has been invaded by potted plants and flowers and even a skinny tree, and none of these reasons are even remotely related to why she's the worst possible person in the world to live with.
She also feels comfortable enough around him to wander around the apartment at night wearing tight tank tops and boxers as sleepwear, and if Ben doesn't die from heartbreak then he's going to hell with a horrible case of sexual frustration.
Loving Rey from a distance has been a struggle for years, and his emotions are horrifically amplified when they're in such close quarters. The physical and emotional distance between them is bearable when Ben is alone, but now that she's so close to him all of the goddamn time he feels like he's suffocating in Rey.
It hasn't even been three months since she moved in, but his entire apartment has been overrun. The herbal-scented shampoo she uses – rosemary, he thinks – permeates all corners of their home, and it's become a calming scent to return to. For all that she cannot cook, her tastes for a few particular things run rather expensive, and Ben begrudgingly acknowledges that his coffee supply has increased in quality in the past few months.
And, much to his dismay, he's only fallen more deeply in love with her since she's moved in. Even when her hair is pinned back and she's sitting on the couch reading some incredibly dense physics text, he wants her, and it is becoming increasingly more difficult to refrain from casually touching her hips when they pass by one another in the kitchen or to not lean in for a goodbye kiss when he's leaving to go to work.
But he can manage this, and settling for her intimate friendship is fine. She does love him, and maybe he's missing out on the physical affection of a non-platonic relationship, but hearing her laughter at his sarcasm and embracing her during casual hugs are enough, he tells himself.
Ben can't drink in the safety of his home anymore. Alcohol is still a necessity, he can't survive living with Rey unless he imbibes frequently, and he takes comfort in the thought that the First Order will always welcome him. Hux may not be so hospitable, but Ben's used to that, too.
It's one of the harder nights tonight, and Ben is knocking back cheap whiskey, relishing the hot burn as it slides down his throat and settles deep in his stomach.
Her class schedule is ingrained in his mind, and Ben's comfortable in the knowledge that on Thursdays he is free to come home around 10 o'clock. She'll be in bed already, catching up on sleep to prepare for her early morning Friday class, and he's on his third or fourth shot before business in the bar starts to pick up.
It's not uncommon to see the bar this busy on a weeknight, especially considering how many students plan their schedule around a three-day weekend, and Ben's plans to bitch at Hux about Rey are foiled by the crowd of customers at the bar.
He tucks into a corner booth with his ample supply of booze. The alcohol's finally settling, and the haze he's come to rely on soothes him immensely. When he's in Rey's presence, it's easier to force down the overwhelming surge of affection for her, easier to hide how much he adores her. When he's alone, though, it's harder to pretend, and without this outlet Ben is sure that he would go insane.
Five months into their cohabitation and he really does regret ever agreeing to this charade. He's confident that she still has no idea how deeply his love for her runs, but their interactions are quickly becoming unbearable, and it's beginning to spiral out of control.
He knows he's incorrigible every time Rey attempts a conversation with him, but he can't help it. Being cruel to the one he loves is painful, cuts him deeply to the bone, but it's easier to provoke her anger than the fear and disgust he knows she'll display if the truth comes out.
Contemplating it makes him feel even worse, because Ben honestly has no idea how to distance himself enough from the situation to be friendly with her again. Even attempting to banter with her has transformed into snide comments, and although he knows the words are mean as they spill past his lips, he can't seem to rein them in with any semblance of control.
It's getting late enough that he should head back, he's been sitting here for a few solid hours in misery, and Ben polishes off his drink before nodding at Hux and leaving the bar.
Rey's had the intuition to avoid him for the past few days, and as he slowly makes his way home he's sure that she'll be fast asleep and he won't have to deal with her for at least the next half-day. It takes a few tries to get the right key into the lock, but thick satisfaction fills him when he finally inserts the metal into the slot correctly. As he stumbles through the door, though, he sees the kitchen light still on and freezes.
Fuck, it's almost 11, why would a light still be on? The apartment's small enough that he can see from the entrance that Rey's at the kitchen table, poring over a cluttered mess of paper, notebooks, and textbooks.
"Midterm tomorrow," she explains sheepishly with a quick gesture toward all the papers.
"Ah," he replies, locking the door behind him, and moves to retrieve a glass of water. Being this drunk and this close to Rey is a bad idea, he knows, but he had honestly banked on her being asleep. Maybe actually talking to her about her schedule beforehand would have been a good idea, but it's obviously too late for such a thing.
He'll just have to mind his tongue.
"Which class?"
Rey looks up at him, and god, her hair is mussed like she's been carding a hand through it all night, and she's chewing on a pen in a way that tunes him in to her perfect lips. "Physics course on the Big Bang," she says. "Lots of specific terminology to worry about, you know?"
Ben doesn't know, but he bobs his head in agreement. Complex math and science have never been his forte, and it's only more damning to his heart that she's so brilliant.
"You'll do fine," he says in what he hopes is a fairly reassuring tone. "All that intelligence, and whatnot." Apparently, tapping a finger to his head is the most appropriate gesture he can come up with to accompany his words.
Rey gives him an odd look, like she's unused to praise coming from him, and it makes him frown as his alcohol-slowed mind realizes that she really hasn't heard anything positive from him in weeks.
"Drunk Ben is much more amiable than Sober Ben," she says slowly, taking him in with calculating eyes. She can either smell the whiskey on him, or something about his countenance is giving him away, but the words are an affront to his intoxicated brain.
"I'm always amiable," he snorts. "You're just an easy victim for derision." Ah, shit, he's said that out loud. He had made an honest effort to think, I don't want to be a prick to you, it's all bogus, but between the synapses firing in his brain and the actual effort to push words out of his throat, he's managed to insult her again.
"Fuck you, Solo." Annoyed, she throws her pen at him and it hits him square in the chest. "Go sleep off the alcohol, asshole. You're taking me out for a meal tomorrow as an apology."
Beating a hasty retreat is a good idea, and he commends her in his mind even as his lips curl into a sneer. He offers her a half-cocked, sarcastic salute as he stumbles down the hallway and into his room. It's far too much effort to undress properly, but he manages to toe out of his shoes and wiggle out of his jeans before collapsing on his bed.
If his eyes are burning slightly, it's just from sleep deprivation and the copious amounts of alcohol. He falls asleep with the self-deprecating thought of how sabotaging their relationship may actually be beneficial for pushing her away and finally moving past this all.
A loud knock on his bedroom door startles him out of his daze, and Ben offers a quick, "Come in."
He's lying in bed with a book propped open on his chest, but he can't recall its title or even what he had been reading about. It's irrelevant, anyway, as Rey steps inside, because all of his focus is immediately turned onto her.
She's dressed in a clingy black shirt and dangerously short denim shorts, and he's helpless against the daydream that invades his mind. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, so unlike how she usually styles it, and in its curled wildness, the mental image unfurling in his thoughts is unavoidable. How easy would it be for her to make her way over to his bed and climb over him, knees pressed on either side of his hips and those sinful shorts sitting atop him?
"You're not even listening to me," she complains, and it cuts sharply through his fantasy.
"Sorry," Ben replies, wracking his brain desperately for a viable reason for him to be eye-fucking her so obviously.
"Hm," is the soft response, but it sounds perilously close to a purr. And then Rey's stalking towards him, hips swinging in the confidence of her movements, and he can do nothing but watch her. His room really isn't that large, but she takes her time moving closer to him until she's looking down at him, close enough that her knees are pressing into the side of his bed. Ben looks up at her, book all but forgotten until she plucks it out of his fingertips and tosses it behind her.
"Hey," he protests, mostly out of instinct, though his words are cut short by the fact that Rey is, in fact, swinging a leg onto the bed to straddle him. Oh, fuck. "What – "
He's silenced by the finger pressed against his mouth, and then that finger is caressing his full lips. Heat arcs through him when she slips two fingers into his mouth, sliding them slowly in and out.
"Oh, hush," she says, and if there was a hint of a purr in her tone before, now it's a full-blown murmur of sensuality. "Dirty thoughts deserve punishment, don't you think?"
Speaking is impossible around the fingers pushing into the wetness of his mouth, and instead of a verbal reply he nips slightly at one before soothing the bite with the flat of his tongue. It's clear that he isn't in control, here, and the loss of power has him impossibly hard within the confines of his jeans.
Rey seems satisfied at his lack of speech, and withdraws her fingers. They're wet with his saliva as she trails them over the curve of his jawline and down the line of his throat. "Good boy," she tells him, and he must not have been wearing a shirt because she's sliding warm hands down the chiseled length of his chest and making her way to the dark jeans covering his lower half.
This Rey, this seductive, dark temptress, is going to be the death of him, and Ben groans loudly when she confidently flicks open the button of his pants and slides the zipper down.
Ben wonders if he's somehow made it to heaven, but the thought is brief because then Rey, his Rey, is withdrawing his cock and arching down to lick a stripe up its length with unmistakable intent.
"Fuck," he swears, involuntarily, and even though his eyes want to slip shut in pleasure, he forces them to stay open, to memorize every square inch of the sensual picture in front of him, and can see her unhappy frown after the curse leaves his throat.
He's about to apologize, but the words catch in his throat when she leans down and presses her lips over the thin skin of his hipbone. It's such an intimate action that it makes his heart flutter uncomfortably, and then he's registering the sharp sting of pain accompanying her movement. She's bitten him, he realizes, and as her mouth withdraws he can see the outline of her teeth welling up in blood upon his skin.
It should be outlandish, ridiculous enough to soften his erection in reaction, but he's panting instead, a high keening noise slipping past his lips. Rey licks her lip, erasing the small smudge of blood beaded on her lips, and then she's using that tongue to lave a hot, wet stripe up the length of his cock.
Ben sees white, thinks that maybe he's actually passed out for the briefest of moments, but he comes back to himself to see that she's taking him into her mouth, cheeks hollowed as the heat of her mouth envelops him entirely.
His fingers thread through the thick locks of her unbound hair, pulling sharply in reaction to the tight heat of her mouth. She clearly has no qualms about taking him into her throat fully, and as she bobs around his length she catches his eyes with her own. He's unable to look away, and her eyes indicate that she knows exactly what she's doing to him as they sparkle with amusement and arousal.
Rey hums around his dick, and the vibrations have his head slamming back against his pillow in sheer pleasure. That earns him a hard pinch to his inner thigh, and he forces his head up to look at her.
Her eyes are watering as she takes him impossibly deep, but she offers him a cocky wink as he looks down at her, and it almost sends him over the edge and into the blissful oblivion. Somehow, one of her hands is wrapped just around the base of his cock, preventing him from coming as his orgasm is halted by the tight pressure.
Ben wakes with a gasp, hard and wanting. The dream is vivid in his mind, images of Rey's eyes as her lips wrap around his cock imprinted on the back of his eyelids, and fuck it, his schedule is open, there's nothing wrong with getting himself off.
His pulse is beating a heavy tattoo against his skin, in rhythm with the hangover pounding in his head, and dipping a hand underneath his waistband is incredibly satisfying.
The first touch to his throbbing cock has him hissing softly. He's sensitive, already close to release from the eroticism of the dream, and after a few pumps Ben brings a hand up to his mouth and bites down on his knuckle to muffle the loud moan threatening to burst out of his lungs.
All it takes is closing his eyes and then he's remembering Rey swallowing him whole and he's there, coming hard as his groans echo around the walls of his room. He lies there in the aftermath for a moment as his heart pounds, reveling in the sensation.
Grabbing a nearby shirt to clean up the mess on his stomach, Ben exhales softly in annoyance. It certainly isn't the first dream he's ever had of Rey, but this version of her, confident and demanding in her sexuality, is a vision to behold, and he's already aware of how this won't be the first time he imagines her in such a way.
A sharp knock draws his attention to his closed door. Although he's spent, the rapping of Rey's knuckle on his door stirs him to arousal again as he recalls how his fantasy had begun. He makes a quick effort to cover himself, throwing a blanket over his lower half.
Rather than entering and doing something as unbelievably sexy as sucking him off, though, Rey just calls out through the door, "Stop jerking off and get up, I'm hungry and was thinking we could go to Maz's Cafe for lunch."
His face grows hot with embarrassment at her words, and he feels a brief moment of panic. Did he say her name at all? Could she have possibly heard his quiet groans, or were her words meant purely in jest?
"Fuck off!" he responds loudly, and if his voice cracks on the curse, then at least Rey doesn't say anything about it.
He takes an exceptionally long time to get ready, mostly because getting out of bed and removing the pillow from his burning face is a daunting task. By the time he's managed to drag himself out of bed and slip into dark jeans and a black hoodie, he feels much more like himself despite the continual throbbing in his head.
Praying that Rey didn't actually hear anything, he meets her in the living room. It turns out he's worried for nothing, though, because Rey is much too excited about how hard it's raining outside to tease him about his masturbation session.
"One lunch date for Mistress Rey," Ben drawls as she grabs an umbrella from the closet, offering his arm in an attempt at reconciliation for his shitty drunken behavior.
Maz's Cafe is only a few blocks away from their apartment, and Rey's obsession with the weeping skies means that they're definitely going to walk. She's already taken her early morning midterm, and so Ben takes her to get her favorite sandwich and she's smiling and laughing and things feel alright for the first time in ages.
Such happiness is short-lived in Ben's life, however.
Rey is out on a date. She's been going on dates for the past two weeks, supposedly on the recommendations of her friends, and Ben has never struggled so hard to keep his emotions in check. (Alright, he's failing spectacularly. He's already ruined an entire dishware set in fits of frustration, and his bedroom is more often a trashed disaster than not.)
It's been seven months since Rey invaded his life and turned him into a brooding, cynical creature, and now she has this great idea to date around. The first time Ben catches her leaving the apartment, in a short, flowing dress printed with red roses, he punches a hole into the drywall of the living room, and even the burn of split knuckles does not offset the hurt coursing through him.
The only decent part about any of it is that she seems not to like anyone much, or else he's sure he would hear about second dates and potential relationships.
Ben knows she's out on another date when he stalks out of the apartment, intent on finding some kind of dinner outside of the goddamned living space that smells and reminds him of nothing but Rey. He feels like he's been in a state of perpetual rage lately, driven only by the bitter anger and agony that permeates his entire being.
The thought of confining himself to the interior of a taxi cab is atrocious, and he finds himself striding down the street in an attempt at finding food. There's a Japanese place nearby, and his walk in the brisk nighttime air calms him down enough to request a quick takeout order at the sushi bar.
He's just about to take a seat at the bar to wait for his order when his gaze sweeps across the restaurant's dining area.
Of course he sees Rey, sitting across a small table from a blond guy. She hasn't taken note of his presence yet, and although he feels furious at the sight of them, he isn't about to make a scene and get the both of them kicked out and possibly banned from one of their most frequently visited restaurants.
He does annihilate the pair of chopsticks resting on the bar, though, and the splinter that gouges into the fleshy part of his hand goes entirely unnoticed as he observes the dining couple.
It's clear that she isn't enjoying the date; the thin line of her lips and her uninterested gaze give him a spark of hope that she'll be coming home alone tonight.
Her date says something, then, and it's like watching a log suddenly catch fire. Her eyes become hard, glinting dangerously in anger, and then she's shouting something at him that isn't loud enough to decipher in the din of the rest of the establishment. If that isn't an invitation to intervene, he doesn't know what is, and Ben jolts out of his bar stool to step in.
"Hey, sis," he says as he approaches, arms up and large hands splayed palms-out in a gesture of surrender. "I know you're busy on your date, but this couldn't wait."
"Ben!" Rey says, and it's lovely to see how some of her ire fades as she recognizes him. She looks a bit confused at his words for a quick moment before she catches on. "What happened? Sorry, Jake, this is my brother, Ben."
He ignores the brief introduction to the asshole. "There's a family emergency, we've got to head back to Takodana immediately." That sounds like a safe excuse, right?
And she offers a gasp that's so realistic even he almost believes it.
The guy is looking between them as though his height and her slight stature couldn't possibly have come from the same gene pool, but Ben offers him a grin that's more teeth than pleasantry as he places a hand on the small of Rey's back and leads her out of the restaurant with a faked apology.
They're walking away from the Japanese place when Ben realizes he never picked up his own dinner, but maybe it's for the best because his appetite is absolutely lost, anyway. They walk in silence for a bit, and the night air contrasts starkly with the heat rising within him.
Rey's not typically one to cry when she's upset, no, she'll flare up in anger and outrage and fight until she's battle-worn, but she offers him a faintly watery smile and a quiet, "Thank you."
Not trusting himself to speak, Ben only offers her a terse nod. He desperately wants to ask why she'd gone out with this guy in the first place, and what had upset her so much that she looks ready to cry, but he manages to refrain. She'll tell him when she wants to. If she wants to. He hasn't exactly been a satisfactory friend lately.
She leans into him as they walk, and her warmth pressed against his arm burns him down to his very bones. He supposedly came to her rescue, but she's the one calming him down, reassuring him, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. "Are you okay?" he manages, now that the rage has slowed from a boil to a quiet simmer.
A huff of air passes through her lips and forms a cloud in the frigid air. "I'm fine," she replies, which doesn't really answer his question given that it's one of the most generic responses in the entire universe, but if she wants to put on a tough front then it's the least he can to do oblige her.
"Of course," Ben says, and his hand has a mind of its own as it moves to press down on Rey's head and ruffle her hair. The playful, almost intimate, action musses up her careful three-bun hairstyle, and he feels sick to his stomach at the thought of her standing in front of a mirror and dressing herself up to go on a date with that guy.
"Oi," she complains, swatting his hand away. "Don't mess up my hair like I'm actually your sister or something."
It isn't exactly the kind of comparison he wants her to make of them, but it's an opportunity for him to slip into their well-versed banter instead of seriously contemplating the easiest way to hide the body of her date for making her frown in the first place. "But, as your brother," he says pointedly, shooting her a humorous look, "and rescuer from horrible dates, it is my duty to taunt you and ruin your hair."
"Ugh," Rey grunts, and although she's clearly amused, Ben regrets his words if only because she moves away from him to give him a rough shove. "If I knew you'd turn into a teasing brat, I would've preferred you introduce yourself as my boyfriend."
Some small part of his mind processes the words and conjures up a snappy, Why would you be going on a date if you already had a boyfriend, though? while the remaining part of his brain short circuits.
A mere heartbeat passes, and in the next millisecond he's confident that his world is crumbling down around him. Hearing her speak of them in that way, as potential lovers, is all he's ever wanted, and she's deflected the intensity of his desire with a joke. Rey's words are a tease, surely intended to be nothing more than a playful jab at him, but they cut deeply. She's proficient in the art of tearing him apart, and in the darkness of the street around them, he's not sure if there will be enough of him left to recover.
It would only take a single breath to confess to her, to relieve the burden that's been weighing him down for what feels like centuries, and his mouth is open – to what, tell her that she's his entire universe and reason for being and he needs her like he needs air – but he snaps it shut as the shock of sense jolts into his being.
Rey is incredible, and she's going to do amazing things once she graduates and NASA eventually hires her and she revolutionizes the space industry, and Ben Solo does not fit into that equation neatly at all. There's no room in her life for an overly emotional, stupidly ambitious walking disaster, and really, she deserves so much more.
A wave of nausea rolls through him, but he's rather accustomed to it by now.
They've stopped walking now, and Rey is turned toward him with a concerned look on her delicately made-up features. "Ben?"
He can't stand it.
"Sorry," he mutters, breath tight in his lungs. He's choking on nothing but the futile reminder of his unrequited affection, and he forces himself to continue. "It's nothing, I'll see you at home."
Even he knows his words don't make sense, there's no point in walking separately from her when their destination is the same, but being in her presence while on the verge of a breakdown is a certified recipe for disaster.
His only saving grace will be a quick escape, and he's walking rapidly away on shaky legs before a hand shoots out to snag his clothing. Rey looks fierce as he turns to bite out a rude remark, and as their eyes catch he can read her budding confusion and ire.
"Why did you completely shut down just now?" she's demanding, and hell, if he stays in her presence for a moment longer he's going to fuck up completely and actually tell her, so he shoves down his instinctively combative retort and jerks his arm out of her grip.
"Just – " he starts, well aware of how deranged he must look, eyes wide and hair wild from the chilly wind whipping around them. "I need you to – to leave me alone right now, okay?"
It's a hilarious mockery of how confident and strong he'd been just moments ago as he'd pulled her away from her awful date. Now a stupid joke has absolutely shattered him, and it's horrifying how emotionally unstable he is around her. He doesn't allow himself the luxury of looking back at her as he dips his head in shame toward the ground and leaves her standing on the sidewalk.
As he walks away, he remembers that she's just gone on a horrible date and probably doesn't want to be alone right now, and it makes him feel all the worse. But self-preservation has lasted him this long, and Ben knows he's far too close to revealing himself to her than he ever should be.
He remembers less of the walk home than the quiet loneliness of their apartment when he unlocks the door and steps inside. It's dark, and he doesn't bother to turn on the lights or stifle the cold air by turning the heat on.
Ben's path inside the apartment is a direct beeline toward his own room. His bedroom door stays closed the entire night, and though he's lying in bed, sleep eludes him.
Rey doesn't come home that night, and it's for the best. One night away from home is infinitely preferable to the thought of her horrified reaction and subsequent evacuation of their shared apartment.
The next day isn't much better, but even Ben in his crazed, sleep-deprived state knows that it would be too cruel to keep her away from her own home. It's still early in the morning, around nine, when he shoots her a short, Sorry about last night, come home whenever text and deliriously makes his way over to the coffee maker.
It really shouldn't surprise him that she texts back immediately, but nevertheless a pulse of adrenaline courses through him at her casual response of, Okay, grumps. She's been a morning person for as long as he's known, and besides he knows firsthand that Fin and Poe's couch isn't very comfortable for sleeping, so it truly isn't that outlandish that she's up and about. He was hoping for a bit more time to himself, in all honesty, but he steels himself for her return.
Time has apparently become his mortal enemy, because it feels like only a few minutes have passed before Ben can hear keys jingling and the front door unlocking. Rey steps in, and even dressed in yesterday's clothes, she looks beautiful. It takes all of his effort to casually offer her a greeting from their kitchen, and he becomes very interested in his cup of coffee.
"Ooh, did you make that roast that your dad brought us from Ethiopia? It smells great."
"Yeah," he says. I would move the stars for you, he does not say when she steals the mug in his hand and takes a long drink from it. How she finds it so easy to pretend his intense mood swings are nonexistent, he'll never know, but she's always been wonderful about it.
The quiet noise of contentment that she makes should be illegal, Ben thinks, and he needs to stop thinking about her like this when she's so close to him. He's determined not to have a repeat of the previous night, and even though his response of, "Yes, of course you can have my coffee," falls flat, she doesn't comment on it.
This quiet domesticity between them, with their shared living space and typical amity, is disrupted by him, and Ben runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He wishes there were some easy remedy to dissolve the tension between them, but he's honestly at a loss.
"Hey, Ben," Rey says, and he forces the furrow that's appeared between his brows to smooth out as he looks down at her.
"Yeah?"
"I just had a few questions about last night."
Fuck, what happened to their mutual agreement to not bring up the fact that he is an emotionally compromised mess? Ben is in no condition to answer any questions about what's transpired between them for several years, let alone the past twenty-four hours. There has to be some way to avert her attention and escape, so he chokes out, "Don't you want to get out of your dirty clothes first?"
It's only after he's spoken that he realizes his words can be misconstrued as a fucking come-on, and Rey looks as startled as he feels by it.
Apparently, she's also some kind of mind reader, because his panicked interjection and brilliantly blushing features have those astute cogs inside her head turning as she reaches some kind of conclusion. Ben is blinded by the rotating emotions of shock and realization reflected in her eyes, and then she's surging forward in a desperate attempt to claim his lips.
He's frozen shock-still, though, and her lips press against his motionless ones for what feels like a century before she's pulling away.
"Oh god." Ben can just barely parse out her words through the deafening roar of blood in his ears. "Fuck, fuck, you don't want me, shit, Ben –"
Her voice is high, near hysteric, and the restless beast that has been lying in wait for far too long roars to life within him. "No," he growls, and he can see now that she's about to make a run for it, breath coming fast.
She barely makes it out of the kitchen and down the hallway before he catches her, his nails digging into the flesh of her hand like it's a lifeline, and it's like Ben Solo has vanished, replaced by this dark, craving entity frantic to consume her.
"How could you even think I don't want you?" His voice is ragged as he cages her within his arms, catching her between his body and the wall. "It's been – years – "
Rey's eyes are wide as she stares back at him, the air charged with tension. " Ben," she says, and her voice catches on the word before she rises onto the balls of her feet to kiss him fiercely.
It's messy, and their teeth click loudly as they bump into one another, but it's the best kiss of Ben's life because it's Rey's tongue invading and pressing against his own, it's Rey's hands scrambling for purchase against his spine as she moans into his mouth. He wants to ravage her until she's a sobbing mess, unable to form a coherent word as overwhelming pleasure wracks her body.
The long stretch of hallway to his room seems impossible to travel, and besides, Ben has all he needs right in front of him, so he pulls away from Rey's lips to pant in her ear, "Need you now."
Rey gives a full-body shiver as his breath caresses her sensitive skin, and Ben smirks against her before licking a stripe up the shell of her outer ear. Her throaty, vocal response has him so hard that his hips are canting forward against hers in little instinctual half-thrusts.
Raw laughter heaves out of Rey's lungs as he drags his teeth down her neck, and taking inspiration from the imagination of his mind's dreams, Ben settles on the junction between her neck and shoulder and bites down, hard.
He's going to mark her, imprint the line of his teeth into her skin, until everyone knows that she's his, he's never going to let her go now that he has her within his arms, and her giddy laugh dissolves into breathless moans of appreciation. Of course Rey enjoys the sharp cocktail of pain and pleasure, she's too feisty and strong to be any other way, and he's so lost in her that he hardly realizes when she wiggles around the tight confines of his bracketing arms to undress.
Seams are popping as Rey tugs her blouse up and over her head, revealing her deliciously toned flesh and a dark-colored bra that looks magnificent on her but simultaneously unacceptable because it's keeping him from appreciating the complete vision of her.
A rough growl stirs deep in his throat, and he's pulling and tugging at the lacy bit of undergarment until one of the straps snap and the metal holding it together bends wickedly out of shape.
"Hey, " Rey complains, but she's ripping the ruined cloth off of her body and revealing her bared chest to him, and Ben lets out a reverent groan. Her tits are small and perfect, and he envelops them easily within the palms of his hands. Touching her so intimately, seeing her shoved up against the wall and melting beneath him, is overwhelming.
"Later," Rey breathes, voice hitching when he flicks a thumb over one of her flushed pink nipples. "Inside me, Ben, please."
The request is provocative coming from her well-kissed lips, but Ben is dissatisfied by how coherent she still is. Determined to have her fully exposed to him, he shoves down the tight black leggings she has on, and the tear of fabric as he rips them away to reveal the tanned expanse of skin she's been hiding from him is satisfying beyond belief.
She's wearing some frilly excuse for panties, lacy and enticing and too goddamned sensual to be on her body when she's out to dinner with random fucking men, and Ben's sure his eyes are blown black with the dangerous cocktail of jealousy and arousal pumping through his blood.
"Did you plan on letting that fucker sleep with you?" he snarls, and the possessive agony in his voice is only slightly offset by the fact that fuck, her legs frame the stupid panties beautifully, and he spares one arm to unbutton and shove his own jeans down far enough that his cock is freed.
"I just needed someone to so that I could pretend it was you," she cries out, her words a conflicting mixture of hot and wrong, and he can't resist the temptation to grab at her bared thighs and shove her higher against the wall. She can't even reach the floor anymore, and with his nails digging into her flesh to keep her in place, he frees one hand to shove the tiny garment aside and push inside of her in a single, confident stroke.
Rey lets out a choked-off gurgle that's equal parts discomfort and gratification, and he thinks, Good, let it fucking hurt, because the idea of her letting someone else see her, touch her like this, is agonizing, and only this erotic language of skin against skin seems to convey the message properly.
Inside of her slick sex, Ben's thoughts dissolve into the primal rut of instinct. Enough of him is present to notice that she's wrapping her strong thighs around his hips as he fucks her against the wall, and he knows his legs are burning with the effort of keeping them both standing, but Ben's a demon possessed by the need to fill her until they're a fucked-out, exhausted tangle of limbs.
Even the filthiest of his dreams fails to hold a candle to the reality, the press of her scalding skin against his body and the clash of their teeth and tongues as she clenches around him, and Ben can't help the startled laugh that echoes between their mouths as he realizes she isn't going to lie there and let him do all of the work.
Underneath his shirt, she's managed to slide her hands up his back to support herself, and as his thrusts shove her against the wall, her nails rake an arcing path down the pale flesh of his back. The marks are probably bleeding as they sting sharply against the pads of her fingers, and they're both reduced to the most basic of moans as he slides in and out of her.
His orgasm is inevitable as the intense pressure of her inner walls squeezes against his cock, and he slips a hand down the smooth expanse of her stomach. The moment his thumb reaches her clit, she's jerking wildly around him, keening loudly at the sensation, and Ben rubs steady circles against her clit as his thrusts become more and more erratic.
When Rey comes, it's a vision that Ben memorizes instantly and knows he will never forget. She's beautiful as she convulses around him, and while she's riding through the aftershocks her spasms bring him to release. His legs finally give out as he comes, and they collapse to the ground, hearts pounding in unison and chests heaving for lack of proper air.
His clothes are uncomfortably damp with their intermingled sweat, and he presses his forehead to her shoulder in fatigue as they lay there, slumped against the wall of the hallway. Ben wants to confess to her, to tell her this isn't just about sex, but he feels too spent to even speak properly. He manages to look up at her, and falls in love with her all over again at the open expression on her face.
"Don't be afraid," she says softly, pressing the pads of her fingers delicately to his face. "I feel it, too."
"Years," he chokes out. He's known her for most of her life, tortured himself for five years because of this uncontrollable yearning, and the bursting release of emotion has him utterly exhausted.
"We've wasted a lot of time, yeah?"
It's such an understatement that he can't help but chuckle. He presses a kiss to her exposed shoulder.
"That guy last night," Rey starts, and Ben's ready to shove her away for daring to bring him up when he's opening himself up like this, but she grabs his hair and forces his head forward to meet her lips in a bruising kiss. "You goddamn idiot, I'm just saying that he pissed me off because he said I shouldn't be casually dating if all I'm going to do is think about some other man."
The thought clicks, and the part of Ben that's been her snarky friend for almost two decades wants to smirk sensually and tease her for it. It's a shame that the other part of himself, the doofus who's gradually fallen in love with her, surfaces instead, and he knows the sprawling, unabashed grin upon his features must make him look like a complete idiot.
It isn't long before he feels strong enough to stand, and not a moment passes before he's picking her up and tossing her casually over his shoulder.
"No, no, no!" Rey gasps, laughter in her tone as her fists beat against his back and he hauls her into the bedroom. "I'm fucking sore already, no more for you!"
And, well, there are other things he can do that don't involve actually fucking her, and he's waited most of his life for this moment. Ben has a sneaking suspicion that when he has her writhing against the bedsheets with his tongue lapping at her clit, she certainly won't be complaining.
Ben Solo knows that, in practice, there is absolutely nothing better than being in love with your best friend. Rey is the cornerstone of his entire existence, and he has no idea how he lasted so long without the taste of her kiss and the press of her body against his. It seems a lifetime ago that he viewed such a thing as impossible, but day after day without fail, Rey fucking Kenobi is there, loving him and filling his life with purpose. Some days, he still wakes up in fear that it's all been a fantastic dream only to be comforted by her presence, and really, there is nothing better.