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Rey nearly passes by him in the crowded streets of Batuu. As if there was ever truly a chance that they could pass so close and she wouldn’t notice him. She slips between aliens of every sort dressed in fabrics brought from every corner of the galaxy, barely able to see to the end of the street, but she doesn’t need to see him to pick him out from the mass of creatures. She senses him first, something within her resonating with a sudden, perfect note, like he’s reached into her chest and plucked a string of her heart. The Force, their bond, whatever cosmic connection unites them, she can’t ignore it.
She smells him next. Ridiculous, to imagine that over the humid scents of roasting meat, rich spices, engine grease, and the inherent jumble of too many bodies in a too small street she could pick out his scent with any surety, but there it is, leather and smoke over the deepness of some wood from a planet she’s never seen. She breathes deeply, unable to keep herself from holding it in her lungs, a piece of him in her, before sense returns and she blows out a frustrated gust of air.
Finally she turns, unerringly seeking him out in the rush of traders. Humans aren’t the tallest creatures in the galaxy, but even hunched over in a ridiculously huge black robe, he stands out among the press of beings around her. Gritting her teeth, she chases after him.
She could ignore him, she realizes as she pushes her way through to him. A Rodian squawks in protest, but she ignores them, moving quickly past. She could go back to the Falcon and comm the Resistance, tell Leia that she’s seen her son. They might send backup, or tell Rey to watch from a distance, observing the newly crowned Supreme Leader without interacting.
Her gut revolts at the thought. This thing between them is more than the Resistance and the First Order. She doesn’t want some nameless soldiers coming between them, to have to explain the unexplainable to justify her actions when it comes to this man. As the Resistance’s only Jedi, she has plenty of leeway in making her own decisions, but she’s still the child of Jakku, used to surviving on her own terms. She remembers the last time she saw him, the Falcon door closing on his kneeling form through their bond, his upturned face struck with emotions she didn’t know how to name but still tangle around her heart. Her resolve firms. This isn’t about anyone but the two of them.
He doesn’t turn when she slips behind him, but she watches his shoulders stiffen, tightening under the flimsy disguise of his cloak. She ducks around to his side and has a second to glimpse his face under the deep hood as it turns towards her, shockingly bare, his wide dark eyes locking on hers, before she shoves her whole body against his, knocking him into the alley he’d just started to pass.
He stumbles, and she knows that if he wanted, he could push back, try to swerve around her and back into the street, but instead he lets himself be dragged between the nearest buildings. Her hand finds his arm under the cloak, and she has to breathe past the way her heart leaps at the heat of his skin, even through his clothes. She pulls him deeper into the alley, around piles of baskets and slumped sacks, until they turn a corner that hides them from the street.
She shoves him against the wall, crowding against him and ignoring the swell of his scent around her, choking the air. Her hand against his chest is a poor restraint, but he doesn’t attempt to fight it. Neither of them go for their sabers. She feels the weight of hers at the back of her hip, hidden by her own light cloak and glimpses his positioned in the same place on his belt, emitter just visible from around his side. Her gaze flicks up to his face and finds him watching her, his hazel eyes impossibly deep as they capture hers.
She can’t let herself be distracted. “What are you doing here?” she hisses, fingers digging into his shirt for emphasis.
Kylo raises a brow, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a way that feels designed to infuriate her. “I expect the same thing as you, scavenger. Did you think your spies were the only ones that found out about the salvage here?”
She bares her teeth. She may have left Jakku, but she still has to deal with thieves trying to steal what she’s claimed. “Aren’t you too good for that now? What’s the Supreme Leader of the whole First Order stooping to do a scavenger’s job?”
His jaw tightens and she stares into his eyes, trying to figure out what’s going on in his mind. Through their connection, all she feels is turmoil, an echo to her own. “A benefit of being the Supreme Leader. I get to decide which jobs require my attention.”
She narrows her eyes at him. There’s something else there, but she can’t quite pick it out. “What aren’t you telling me?”
His barked laugh jolts against her. “Plenty of things, scavenger. Your friends will start missing you if I have to go through all that.”
“Stop calling me that,” she snaps, before she can think. It sparks something hot and uncomfortable in her she doesn’t want to consider.
He blinks. “What?” Then it clicks. “Scavenger?” She swallows. She shouldn’t have said anything. She knows how to keep her wits about her, to plan ahead long enough to stay alive in the worst of Jakku’s storms, but around him, she loses her head every time. He leans in, pushing towards her from the wall, and her cloak sways, tugging at her shoulder as his hand passes along it. “What should I call you instead Rey? Jedi?”
The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through her hand on his chest, and her fingers flex, trying to shake off the feeling. She pushes against his chest and he retreats, but only an inch. He’s still far too close. She should step away, breathe air that isn’t inundated with his scent, but she can’t make herself move. Her gaze flicks down to his neck, where his high collar covers the gland there. She doesn’t dare be so obvious as to look at his wrists, to see if she can catch a hint of flushed glands peeking out of his sleeves. She’s not that brazen. Her thighs clench and she tries to catch her breath as heat rushes through her. Her quick breaths only fill her senses further with his scent. She tastes it at the back of her mouth, the smoldering remnants of a fire on a cold dark night.
His eyes glint with gold as they still hold hers and he slowly leans down into her, regaining the ground he gave up. “Well?”
She’s about to respond, to ask him if she should call him Ben or Kylo today, but a door slams open down the alley and an older twi'lek lugs a heavy bag out with him. He sees them frozen across from him and grunts with displeasure.
“There’s rooms down at the cantina,” he tells them, glaring. “No need to get up to that nonsense right here.” He walks out and drops the bag next to the door, still grumbling. “Too early for this. These offworlders, no manners, think they can just do what they want wherever they feel like it.” He turns back to them before going back in, his hand on the door. “If you’re fucking next time I come out here, I’m calling a guard to move you.” With that, he slams the door behind him.
Rey watches it in stunned silence. The only thing that startles her out of her jumble of thoughts is Kylo’s hand wrapping low around her arm, fingers brushing her wrist. She jumps, the glands under her arm wraps sparking fire through her blood at his faintest touch. She tries to pull back but he moves with her, not letting go.
“We can’t talk here,” he says, matter-of-fact, tugging slightly at her. “Come with me.”
“I’m not going back with you,” she says, shaking her head and snorting at the ridiculousness of the idea that she’d just follow him back into the heart of the First Order.
He scowls. “I’m not letting you out of my sight to go run off and comm the rest of your thieving friends.”
“I don’t need anyone else to deal with you,” she shoots back.
They stare at each other. The twi’lek’s suggestion of a room at the cantina echoes between them, and she feels heat climb her cheeks at the idea of taking him back there, with all the various couples meeting on Batuu to spend long nights away from the rest of the galaxy.
She clears her throat. “I know a place.”
He lifts a brow, clearly waiting for her to explain. She doesn't bother. She tugs her arm within his grasp, cheeks flushing deeper with the heat rising in her at his touch. “Come on.”
He clearly wants to protest, but she doesn’t let him. Trusting he won’t let go of her, she darts across the narrow alley to another gap between buildings and after a brief pull on her arm as he catches up, he follows close behind. His dark shadow crowds behind her as she leads him through the back streets of Batuu, avoiding the crowds as much as they can. They circle around to the outskirts, where the buildings sit short and squat against each other, until she finally stops in front of a non-descript shop with a half-obscured sign. Kylo’s presence presses against her from behind, hot and crackling with energy, as she raises a hand to the lock, opening it with a push of the Force.
The door creaks open and she pulls Kylo in after her, then kicks it closed behind them. Kylo pauses just inside the entrance, looking around at the heaps of old parts and discarded machines, heaped up to the unused counter.
“I keep waiting for your Resistance crew to jump out with blasters,” he says, scanning the darkness towards the back.
She glares up at him. “I told you. I don’t need anyone else to deal with you, Resistance or otherwise. Why, were you planning on ambushing me with stormtroopers?”
“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head, and she’s surprised by the vehemence behind the word. “This isn’t about them. We can just talk.”
She snorts. “Because that’s gone so well for us in the past.”
His eyes dip, and she wonders if he’s thinking of the same thing she is, a dark night on Ahch-to when they reached out and found each other across the galaxy. She’s had plenty of nights since to wonder what else might have happened if they weren’t interrupted. Her gland tingles below his hand, and she has to keep herself from reaching to rub it.
“Talking has worked better for us than anything else,” he murmurs, still looking just below her chin. She sucks in a quick breath.
She starts to regret bringing him into this enclosed space. It might’ve been a better idea to take him out past the edge of the city, where the buildings give way to farms and they could yell at each other in the open air. Here, his scent coils around her and swells to fill every inch of the small shop, so she can’t breathe without tasting him heavy on her tongue. Her mouth waters. If his scent is this potent already, what would it be like right from the source?
She shakes herself, pulling her arm free from his hold. She’s doing it again, losing her head around him. She came here with a purpose, one she can’t forget in the fog of being so close to him.
“Then let’s talk,” she says, voice rough.
She can’t hold his gaze, so her eyes keep dipping lower, inevitably drawn to his mouth. It still feels odd to have his face bared to her, his layers stripped away. She can see the mark she left on him, the faint line across his face an indelible sign of her effect on him. As he speaks, she notes distantly how pink his lips look against his ship-paled features, like they’ve just been bitten.
“You haven’t found what you’re looking for yet, otherwise you wouldn’t still be here,” he starts, and fury returns in full force, burning away her other thoughts. She glares up at him, heart skipping a beat when she sees the same heat in his eyes that she feels.
“Batuu is an independent planet. We have just as much right to be here as you do. More, since we don’t go around intimidating citizens to get our way.”
He steps towards her, closing the meager distance between them. She has to tilt her head up to hold her glare, but she doesn’t break his gaze. They don’t touch, but she swears she feels the swish of his cape around her legs.
“The First Order will find the cargo first. You can fight if you like, but don’t deny the inevitable.”
She snarls and reaches back for her saber, too overcome by rage to think clearly. They’re too close, the shop too crowded for this to make any kind of sense, but wrath and disappointment blind her to better choices. She can’t believe she’s let herself be disappointed by him again, thinking there could be more than his all-important Order and their pointless destruction. He taunts her, showing her glimpses of the man behind the leader, the alpha that he could be, then does this, telling her to abandon her friends for an empty machine.
It takes him only a second longer for him to retrieve his own saber, bracing it against hers where it threatens his throat. The smell of burning fabric mixes with his scent filling the room, both of them too close to keep getting singed and unwilling to back away. She glares up at him, pouring her fury into her eyes, seeing the glow of their sabers reflected in his.
“Why are you doing this?” she growls, pushing her saber down against his, locked into the crossguard.
He scowls back, his dark curls spilling around his face as he attempts to crowd over her, forcing her down. “Doing what? You’re the one that drew your saber.”
She shakes her head, impatient with this posturing. “This. Invading Batuu, and for what? The First Order? You’re not Snoke, you’re not obsessed with conquering the galaxy. What would you even do if you managed it?”
His scowl deepens and he wedges a leg between hers, attempting to push her off balance. Their thighs press together and her core seizes, obsessed with the heat of them through the layers of fabric. His lips part to draw a sharp breath, and he pauses before continuing. “The First Order is saving the galaxy,” he says, clearly reciting from some propaganda poster.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t give me that shit. The stormtroopers may be trained into believing that, but you don’t. Snoke might have convinced you once, but you’re not that stupid to believe it now.”
With a snarl, he tries to kick her feet out from under her, but she catches his leg with hers, locking them together. Their hips scrape, and she feels the heat of him, hardness brushing against her stomach. Dark pink swallows his pale features as he still watches her, and their sabers swing over their heads to brace against the ground, his trapping hers.
“I am the Supreme Leader,” he growls, and his voice rumbles through her chest with their proximity. “This is who I am. I believe in the cause, and we will succeed.”
She brings a knee up to attack him, but he twists away, saber freeing hers. “You’re Ben Solo,” she snaps, breathless. “You can choose to be the kriffing Supreme Leader for now if you’re dumb enough to think they won’t kill you next, but don’t lie to yourself and pretend that’s all you are.” She swings at him and he blocks barely in time to keep her from burning off a lock of hair.
“If I’m not the Supreme Leader, then I’m nothing,” he says, panting, face twisted into what almost looks like pain. “Ben Solo is dead. This is all that remains. Don’t lie to yourself trying to save something that’s already gone.” He shoves her blade back and comes at her in a wide overhead stroke. She catches it on her saber, stumbling under the weight of him.
“You may not be the Ben that Luke trained on Ahch-To, but that boy is no more dead than the one I saw there in the Force.” She ducks under his blade, pushing it to the side and darting around him. He spins around, cape flaring against her, and meets her there. “The more you try to deny him, the more like him you become.”
He shoves his blade up under hers, pulling her arms over her head. “And how would you know?”
“You told me yourself, on the Supremacy. I know something about being stuck in the past.” She drops her saber and ducks, catching it in time to bring it under his, knocking it away as she steps into his space.
He lets his saber hang by his side, resting against hers. His voice comes out quiet, almost defeated. “Without the First Order, I have nothing. This is all that’s left of me.”
She takes a small step closer, blades still humming in their hands as her chest nearly brushes his. Ozone and smoke wrap around them. “That’s not true. There’s so much more to you. I see it.” Holding her breath, she raises her free hand to rest it on his chest. “I feel it.”
He shakes his head, messy waves spilling over his shoulders. “Snoke made me what I am. He saw what everyone else was afraid to admit, that I’m only good for destruction. I don’t have anything else.”
Rey swallows. “If you’d let go, you could have so much more.” Her heart pounds loudly enough to ring in her ears. “I know it.”
His head shakes again, almost reflexively. “That’s not possible. I’ve burned every other bridge. I know what’s coming for me.”
Her hand slides up to his neck, curving around it under his hair. Even with his gland covered, she doesn’t dare brush over it, not right now. When she breathes in, her shirt drags against his. “You know me. Better than anyone else. You know you can trust me. Reach out, let go, and you’ll find the truth.”
His chest heaves as he breathes in deeply, his eyes slipping shut as his head bows. She holds her own breath as she watches him, feeling his turmoil in the Force writhing against her. Her conflict has resolved, centered in the surety of this moment.
He falls forward until his head rests against hers, his hair falling around her face. His free hand seeks out her waist, settling there tentatively, then firming as she arches into his touch.
“What else can I do?” he whispers, eyes still closed.
Her voice matches his as her hand raises to brush a thumb over his cheek, swiping away moisture. “You can come home.”
He shakes his head, slowly this time, not enough to dislodge her touch. “I don’t have a home. Not anymore.”
Her heart in her throat, she answers: “Then come with me and we’ll find one.”
His eyes fly open, so close to hers, and she sees the moment he finds the truth he so desperately needs. The last barrier falls between them, and they collapse into each other.
Her lips find his, or his find hers, and they kiss, rough and starving. His lips are soft as they caress hers, even as his hands clutch her tightly. Her other hand goes to his hair, and their sabers clatter to the floor, blades extinguished. Her fingers tangle in his dark waves, holding him close, as if he shows any sign of wanting to escape. Her tongue sweeps into his mouth and she moans at the unhindered taste of him, strong and heady, everything his scent promised. She wants to taste him everywhere she can reach, leave her mark on every part of him. She’s a scavenger and she fought and won this man, and no one will take him away.
Her mouth trails down to his jaw, licking and nibbling along it, while her thumb smoothes over the strong lines of his face. He pants into her hair, his breath hot over her skin, leaving quick kisses and lingering where he can. His head tips back as her teeth tease at his ear, then sink down to his neck. She nips at his high collar, irritated now at the much-needed protection earlier, smelling how close she is to his potent gland.
Ben groans, and his hands reluctantly pull away from her to fumble at the fastening high on his throat. As soon as he releases it, her hands take over, ripping the opening wide and spreading his shirt back from his chest. Her teeth graze lightly over his gland and he gasps, bare chest expanding and pressing against hers. She follows with a long lick and his taste explodes in her mouth, so much stronger than before. She moans, returning again and again, laving the swollen gland until it’s coated in her scent.
“Rey,” he moans. “Please, I need you, I can’t wait.”
“Don’t want to wait,” she mumbles against his skin, unwilling to pull her mouth away.
His hands attack her belt, searching for the end of the leather, then tossing it away once he finds it. He immediately works his way up under her tunic, the hem rising between them. HIs huge hands span her stomach, tracing patterns on the soft skin, slipping around her back to follow up her spine, before reaching her breastband. He tears her tunic over her head, briefly removing her hands and mouth from him, and she grunts in protest before returning.
She can’t manage to pull her mouth from his neck, but her hands explore his chest and stomach, seeking out newer scars she knows the cause of and older ones she doesn’t. One day, she’ll know them all, but they’re too desperate for further talking now. Need clouds the air around them, potent and intoxicating, and every breath keeps her head spinning. She knows about the pull between alphas and omegas, but the connection between her and Ben is more than biology. She feels him down to her soul, and knows he feels the same because every time she reaches out, he’s right there reaching back to her.
Shaking slightly, Ben pulls at her breastband, unwrapping it until she’s bared to the waist. Her hands cup her breasts, thumbing the nipples, and she shakes, arching into his touch. She’s used to touching herself if needed, a brief grope to relieve stress when she had nothing else, but no part of that compares to Ben’s hands on her body. Even the lightest touch awakens nerves she didn’t know she had, and now, with his fingers rolling her nipples and his hands kneading her breasts, pleasure shoots to her core like never before, rich and wild and incredible. She rubs herself against him, grinding like she can mark him with her whole body, and the hardness between his hips juts into her stomach.
With a last caress to his broad chest, her hands drop to the waistband of his pants, and she quickly shoves them over his hips, taking his basics with them. Ben groans his approval into her mouth and jerks into her touch. She traces the line of his hips back and pulls his heavy cock free from his basics, her thighs tightening at the heft of it in her hands. He swells even harder under her touch, and she traces up from the beginning swell of his knot at the base up to the dripping head. His scent sharpens in the air, headier than before, their combined need obvious. Never removing her mouth from him, she strokes him with both hands, base to tip, smearing the delicious wetness over him.
“Fuck,” Ben pants, his hands tightening on her breasts as he bunches over her, trying to hold himself together. She’s ready to watch him fall apart, but he has other ideas.
His hands fall to her hips, lifting her and bearing her back as he kneels, carrying her to the floor. He cradles her as she lands, handling her with tender care, then dragging his hands down to her pants. They slip off easily along with her basics, and she helps him kick off her boots and toss them away.
He pauses, braced over her, his open shirt and cape falling around them. Even when fighting she’s never seen him so disheveled, his hair a mess from her hands, cheeks and chest stained with red, his gland slick and swollen at his throat, and his cock hanging lewdly from his pants. Everything about him speaks of his utter desperation for her, and she squirms against the floor, rubbing slick thighs together.
His dark eyes take her in, bared and ready for him, and she can’t catch her breath as his gaze sweeps down her body. Her already peaked nipples tighten further and when he reaches her hips, she lets her legs fall open for him, revealing the swath of brown curls and swollen pink flesh, slick for him.
“Gorgeous,” he says, voice choked. “Rey, you’re the most beautiful thing in any galaxy, I can’t –”
She reaches up for him, cupping his face and swiping a thumb over his lips. “You can,” she promises him. “I need you, Ben. More than anything.”
He swallows, his throat bobbing, and then without warning, collapses to his elbows between her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs and keeping them spread wide. Her muscles stretch to fit the bulk of him at the crux of her thighs, but she doesn’t have time to think about that before his mouth descends on her and wipes out all other thought.
He drinks from her like he’s been caught in a sandstorm for weeks, and she’s his first hope of life. He doesn’t bother with elegance or finesse. He simply takes her with all the desperation bottled inside of him, every bit of it waiting for her. He laps at her entrance, like he could find her core with his tongue alone, drinking every drop of her essences. Her body pours slick over him, and she cries out, tossing her head back and forth on the floor. His tongue sinks inside her, stretching her eager passage, then flicks up to drag over her swollen clit, and back again. He can’t decide where he wants to be most and tries to be everywhere at once, his mouth and fingers mapping her folds.
He sinks one finger inside her, testing her soaked sheath, then returns with two, twisting and spreading them as her walls mold around his touch. He licks around her entrance, teasing where his hand sinks into her, and she sobs. His nose grinds over her clit and that’s enough to send her screaming over the edge, drenching him with her release.
“Ben, please,” she cries, her face wet and core aching for him. She’d felt his knot in her hand earlier, and now she needs to feel it inside her.
She tugs his hair, pulling him up to her, and drags his face to hers, smearing her release over both of them. His hand, damp from her cunt, rubs against her gland, and she clenches hard, crying out against his mouth.
“Fuck me, Ben,” she begs. He nods frantically against her and reaches between them to line himself up.
The first press of his cock against her stretches her entrance until she thinks she’s reached her limit, then he slips inside and her muscles tighten around him, clenching like they’ll never let go. They groan in unison, overwhelmed by just this small push. Ben seems like he’ll pause there, waiting, but she locks her legs around him, digging her heels into his back and pulling him into her. She needs all of him. WIth each other, they never have to hold back.
Slowly, then all at once, he sinks into her, stretching her from within, her channel spasming around his hard length. He pushes deep enough that she swears she feels him in her stomach, and one hand falls to press between his hips, like she can touch him inside her. He stops when his hips grind against hers, panting as he holds himself over her.
“Rey,” he moans. “So good, so so good. I can still taste you, it’s everything – “ he cuts off, his chest heaving, and she tilts her head up to nip at his chin.
“You fill me so good,” she whimpers. “Fuck me, give me your knot, Ben.”
“Oh kriff,” he swears, arms half giving out until he’s nearly crushing her. She likes the weight, the heavy press of him altogether real, as visceral as the slick push of him within her.
“Anything, Rey, it’s all yours,” he swears, sliding partway out and then slamming back in. Her hips arch up to meet his, and slowly, they build a rhythm, hips colliding, a pattern of stretch, retreat, return.
“Mine,” she whispers, hand tangled in his hair, clenching around him.
“Yours,” he agrees. His lips dance over her face, kissing her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, eventually landing on her mouth. Her lips open under his, tasting herself on him. It’s everything she’s wanted.
His hips pick up speed, both of them too needy to linger on the edge. She never fully retreated from her last peak and now, with Ben filling her so completely, she’s quickly being pushed to another. He grinds over her clit with each thrust, and one hand reaches between them to hold her breast, teasing her nipple with each rough touch.
His knot starts to swell, pressing against her entrance, and his next few thrusts slow, pushing it against her until it sinks in, then retreating in a long, thorough thrust. Rey’s fingers dig into his back.
“Give it to me Ben, please,” she pants into his mouth. Her legs tighten around him, her muscles clenching with her impending release.
“Yes,” he groans, and with a hard thrust, he sinks in her to his base and holds her tight, tossing his head back and crying out as his climax sweeps over him. His knot swells inside her, pushing her to her very limits, finding new space she didn’t know she had. He fills her, hot and heavy, and she falls over the edge after him, spasming with her peak.
She pushes herself up and sinks her teeth into his gland, complete ecstasy consuming her as Ben’s taste inundates her sense. With a cry of triumph, he curves over her and sets his teeth on her neck, giving her a mark to match his. They’ll always have their bond, and now, no one can doubt what they mean to each other.
Finally, their bodies relax, and with one last burst of strength, Ben flips them so that she rests on his chest, his knot still plugging her tight. Her teeth withdraw from his neck and she gently licks the wound, admiring her mark as she withdraws. His cock pulses with each lick, and she enjoys that sensation very much.
She rests her head on his chest, tucked under his chin, and his hand comes up to stroke her hair. She should be cold as the sweat dries on her skin, but his body burns like a furnace under her, and his other arm covers her back, wrapping around her side and keeping her tucked in a cocoon of his warmth.
“How do you feel?” Ben asks quietly, just when she’s thinking about drifting off to sleep.
She squints an eye up at him. “How do you think?” she teases, tightening around him in emphasis.
He flushes, and she can’t help but grin back. This is the Ben she always knew was there, the one that wanted her as much as she did him. And now they have each other.
Comfortable quiet falls again, and her eyes have started to slip closed, when his chest rumbles under her once more. “No regrets?” he whispers into her hair.
She shakes her head, resting her hand possessively over his neck. “None.” She looks up at him, the smallest sliver of anxiety slipping in. “You?”
He shakes his head firmly, and she feels his sincerity pouring through the bond. “Never. You’re it for me, Rey.”
“Good. You’re mine, Ben Solo.” He smiles and leans in to meet her in a kiss.
She doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but they’ll face it together.