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Chapter Text

Rey curls on her bed, facing Ben, his arms wrapped around her. His regulation shirt, provided courtesy of the Resistance, is pushed aside, and her hands trail over his chest. She knows that whatever he has for a bed in his holding cell, in the bunker she's not supposed to know about, it's not the cot and blankets she has in her bunk. She shifts closer to him on the bed, hoping that some of her warmth makes its way across the bond. His hands tighten on her back.

She traces the scars that decorate his chest, her fingers smoothing in and out of the puckered skin, textures changing under her touch. She knows the story of every mark. The bond has allowed her and Ben the time to learn each other, and he knows her wounds as well as she does his. She likes to count them when she can, making sure no new ones have been added. If any of the fighters holding him lay a finger on him, no matter how much he may deserve it after the others he's killed, she knows there's nothing that could keep her from getting to him.

She finishes her inventory with the scar she left on him. She brushes against it, feather-light, and then leans in to press a kiss to the base of it. She keeps her lips there, his chest barely moving underneath her, and then slowly continues up its length. Her lips feel even more sensitive than her fingers, and every bump and imperfection in his skin is magnified to her. She follows it up over his collarbone to his neck, where his pulse flutters under her touch. He tilts his head back for her, and she hums her thanks against his skin. She moves over his jaw, where it cuts into the lines of his face, then across his cheek. His eyes have fallen closed and she stops to lay a gentle kiss on his eyelid before ending her journey just over his brow. She lingers there, lips pressed to his skin, hand cradling his head to her. His hands spread across her back, tight enough that she can feel the slight chill of his touch. It's not the same as being with him in person, something they've experienced far too little, but it will do for now.

She knows, as she's known for longer than she can say, that this is it. This is what she needs from the universe, here in this broken and fragile man. And even though he's not truly in her bed right now, she still has him, and she will never let him go. Their bond connects them irrevocably, and she wants to shout that connection to the stars. Let everyone know where she's thrown her lot.

“We should get married,” she says, letting some of her thoughts spill out into the space between them. He starts, jostling her.

“What?”

“Married. Us.” She looks up to meet his eyes. “If you want to.” Marriage and ceremony are part of his world, something she's only seen from the outside. On Jakku, that they've shared each other's food and beds would have been enough for them to be considered bound to each other months ago, maybe longer. She wants this though, for them to claim each other in a way anyone will understand. It feels like healing a wound, choosing him as her family.

“But what about - ?” He trails off, but they both know everything he leaves unsaid. He's only barely returned from the First Order, restrained and distrusted, with no plans for his release. Planning on a future with things as they are… It's ridiculous, and that doesn't stop her from wanting it all the more.

“We don't have to,” she mumbles. His arms tighten around her, and then Ben tilts her chin and kisses her.

“Rey, I would be honored to marry you,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” They kiss again, slow and lingering. “But Rey, I don't - You - “ He sighs, the breath ghosting over her lips. “I may not get out of here,” he tells her, like she doesn't know that the Resistance is desperate for his blood, that in his guilt he might let them have it.

She covers his mouth with her hand and scowls, and his eyebrows raise, then furrow. He tries to protest, but she doesn't let him. “Listen to me. I will come for you and I will fight my way through the entire Resistance on my own before I let you sacrifice yourself,” she hisses. “I'm not giving up on you now, Ben Solo.”

Her hand stays over his mouth, and he looks at her over it sadly. It's the kind of look that tells her that he thinks she'd throwing herself away on him. “Don't,” she says angrily. “If you didn't want this, I'd let you go, though I'm still not letting them kill you. But you don't get to decide that you're not good enough for me. I want this.” Her voice goes softer, as she breaks his gaze to brush her lips over his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his. “And you know that,” she says quietly, and lets her feelings, all of her love for him pour across the bond. His breath catches. She might feel upset that he seems to doubt her so often if she didn't feel the same rush of shock every time he shows her how deeply he loves her in return.

He presses a kiss against the hand still over his mouth, both apology and affection, then reaches up to pull it away. “You deserve everything,” he says, and kisses her briefly. “I only worry that I can't give it to you.”

She shakes her head. “I don't need anything but you.” She tucks her head into his neck and wraps her arms around him. Her leg hooks over his hip, wanting him as close as possible. “After this,” she says. “We'll go somewhere green. We can get married there.”

He nods, rubbing his face against her. She feels dampness dripping through her hair. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Ben lay in the bed and watched as the moonlight reflected off the lake and through the window, scattering over the planes of his wife's back.

His wife.

The words still sounded so unbelievable to him, no matter how many times he repeated them to himself. Wife. His. Married.

They'd stood together in front of his mother on the world where her mother had once ruled. Face to face, they'd pledged themselves to each other, committing to official law the promises they'd already sworn on their own. Days had passed since the ceremony, and the feeling that he was living in a dream still hadn't worn off.

He could never have expected that someone would willingly tie themselves to him. And Rey --

He’d still believed that she could do better. The entire galaxy was open to her, and none of it could measure up to her light. That she had chosen him, broken and stained by his past, with no hope but her for his future… He used to almost hope that she would leave him, rather than be dragged down by him. But she’d assured him, time and time again, that he was her choice, and he couldn't deny her that. He knew she still felt it too, that she wasn't enough, and he was willing to dedicate every moment of his life to proving her wrong.

Wife.

He ran his hand over her back, the smoothness and slight stickiness of her skin from their sweat passing under his touch. In their time together, he'd learned every curve of her, from the puckered scar on her thigh where she'd hurt herself in a fall, the bumps of her ribs, slowly filled in but never fully, to the lines of her face as he brought her the pleasure he never thought he could. He kept his touch gentle as her slow, deep breaths fanned over his chest. His fingers curved over the shape of her sides, feeling bones that seemed far too delicate under the pressure of his broad hands. Muscles spanned her shoulders and down, strong and powerful, as he'd witnessed in awe many times before. He trailed down the ridges of her spine, and she arched into his hand, almost unconsciously.

“Mmmm.” She hummed against his chest as she slowly woke, stretching her legs between his and her arms over their heads. She blinked lazily and looked up at him. “Hello.” Her voice was soft, intimate, not going beyond the bubble surrounding them and their bed.

“Hello,” he whispered back. His hand came up to stroke her hair. “I didn't mean to wake you.’

She shook her head. “You didn't. I was waking up anyway.” She raised her lips up to him and kissed him gently, nothing more or less than the press of her lips against his. It was a gesture that had become as familiar as breathing as they’d grown more comfortable with each other, learned to not be afraid to show their affection in the wake of the war. Kisses were dropped on waiting lips whenever they worked together, came or left, or just because. This time, like every time, it didn't fail to send a shiver through his body. From his hand on her back, he knew she felt it too.

They parted slowly, lips clinging to each other. “Besides,” she said. “I wouldn't want to miss any of this.”

He smiled. “Our honeymoon,” he breathed.

She smiled back, face filled with just as much wonder as his. “Husband,” she said affectionately.

“Wife.” He lowered his head to hers and kissed her again, this time with purpose.

She met him eagerly, mouth opening to his. They explored each other with the ease of practice, tilting to find the right angle, tongues sweeping against each other. His hands on her back started to move more firmly, dragging up her sides to her breasts. His thumbs found her nipples, pressed between their chests, and started to stroke and tease in the way he knew she loved. She hummed against his lips, and her body undulated over his, so that the whole length of her rubbed against him. Her hand drifted down to his hip, caressing the hollow there that always made him shiver. He slowly stiffened between her legs and pressed up against her sex, still damp from their last round.

He reached one hand around behind her and she spread her legs eagerly for him. He trailed his fingers between her folds, touching her gently. Her arousal met him as he circled her entrance, and she arched her hips back into his hand. They rocked together into each other, pleasure building like a rising tide. Rey braced her knees on the bed and lifted her hips. Her hand fit between them and wrapped around his cock, and he arched helplessly into her. She stroked him to full hardness, thumb finding the sensitive spot just under his head. He broke their kiss to catch his breath, and she buried her face in the hollow of his neck.

When they were both ready, Rey tilted her hips back so she could slide down over him. So many parts of them he knew he'd never get used to, and this was another. The way she took him in, body stretching around him, until he was seated fully inside her - in this, as in everything, they had been made for each other. She kept herself bent over him, their bodies pressed together as much as possible, neither of them willing to give up the contact.

“Ben,” she sighed, as she rolled her hips over him again, only letting him slip out a short way before filling herself with him again. They formed a rhythm of slow deep strokes, never parting for long. Her hips ground against his, and he felt from the way her stomach twitched against his that she was angled to catch her clit with each thrust.

“Rey,” he breathed against her cheek, then ducked his head down to claim her lips again. They couldn't pay much attention to the kiss as their hips rocked together with increasing urgency, and their lips slid across each other as they panted into each other's mouths.

Their climax rolled over them like a wave, bearing both of them on its crest. With them so connected, he could feel the pulse of her pleasure, and couldn't help but be borne along with it. He curled his hand around the back of her neck, bringing her lips to his more fully.

I love you, he said into the bond between them, as clearly as if he'd shouted it.

I love you, she repeated, and he felt the complete sincerity behind it, everything that connected them shouting their bond to the universe. The waves of emotion from her were almost overwhelming in their intensity, everything that had brought them together, that they'd gone through, that they'd fought against. It was all worth it to have her here in his arms, shuddering her climax around him, returning all the love he had to give her with the same fierceness he felt.

They didn't part as their bodies slowed back into restfulness. Her heart pounded against his chest, and he knew she could feel his too. They left lazy kisses on each other, across the faces and necks, while their hands met and fingers wrapped entwined. Their legs tangled together in the sheets.

“Always,” he promised aloud, the word pressed against her skin as if he could keep it there, let it sink into her. “Wife.”

She looked down at him, eyes sparkling in the reflections from the lake. Always, she said as her lips found his again, and the moons watched through the windows.