Chapter Text
Rey was still trembling when he pulled back just enough to let her come down. Her legs felt like air, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, but his hands were already there—steady, big, warm on her waist, guiding her gently like he knew she couldn't find her balance yet.
But this wasn't the end. God, not even close.
She looked up at him, lips parted, eyes dazed and glazed with the aftershocks still rippling through her. And the way he looked back... It wasn't just hunger. It was possession. Serious and raw and unflinching. A look that made her knees buckle all over again.
"You okay?" he asked lowly, voice still rough, his breath brushing her cheek.
She nodded, but her voice was caught somewhere in her throat.
His jaw ticked, then without another word, he turned her gently—deliberately—until she was facing the counter, her hands bracing against it as his body pressed flush to her back.
The soft fabric of her dress lifted slowly, reverently, his hands pushing it up until it was bunched around her waist. Her bare thighs trembled, flushed and warm against the cool air.
"You tell me if you want to stop," he murmured into her ear, that voice wrecking her all over again.
"I don't," Rey whispered, almost too fast, breath shaky. "I don't—please."
That was all it took.
He made a sound low in his throat, almost like a growl, as he undid his belt, the quiet clink somehow deafening. She felt him behind her, hot and heavy and already pressed against her, thick fabric no longer in the way.
One hand gripped her hip, fingers digging in just enough to anchor her, and then—
He pushed in.
Slow. Deep. Stretching her in a way that made her gasp and clutch the counter harder.
"Fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth, barely holding himself back. "You feel—Rey—fuck."
She couldn't breathe. Could barely think. He filled her so completely, like he belonged there, like he was made for this—for her.
He didn't move at first, just stayed there, buried inside her, letting them both adjust, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his fingers stroking down the length of her arm before wrapping around her wrist.
Then he pulled back—and thrust again. Harder this time.
Rey moaned. Loud. Wanton. She didn't care. She couldn't. She was gone.
Ben set a rhythm that had her shaking again, hips snapping against hers with a steady, hungry precision. The sound of skin on skin, their breath, the soft creak of the trailer as the storm outside began to fade into insignificance—nothing mattered except this.
Except him.
Except the way he kept murmuring in her ear—
"So tight, baby... So fuckin' good for me..."
"You feel that? That's me, sweetheart..."
"You're takin' me so well—look at you..."
Each thrust deeper, rougher, the hand on her hip now sliding down between her thighs, fingers finding her again, circling as he drove into her.
She sobbed—actually sobbed—from how good it felt. From how full she was. From how every single nerve in her body felt like it was on fire.
It didn't take long.
Not after earlier.
She came again, this time harder—blinding, back-arching, voice caught in her throat as her walls clenched around him.
And that's when he lost it.
"Fuck—Rey—I'm gonna—" He groaned, loud and unrestrained, his hips slamming into hers one last time as he spilled into her, holding her against him like he was scared she'd disappear.
They stayed like that for a moment, bodies trembling, the air hot and thick between them.
His forehead dropped to her shoulder again. "That," he panted, breathless, "was... holy shit."
Rey could only nod, half-laughing, half-crying, her voice a soft whisper of sound.
And then she smiled.
Because she was still standing. Still breathin'.
And Benjamin Solo had just wrecked her in the best possible way.
They didn't stop.
He'd meant to. Meant to slow down, catch his breath, maybe even leave before it got more complicated. But Rey had looked up at him with those flushed cheeks and bitten lips, and he'd lost every ounce of sense he'd ever had.
Now he was buried inside her again, hips flush to hers, the soft slap of skin against skin muffled by the creaking mattress and her breathy little moans. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist like she didn't want to let go. He wasn't sure he'd let her.
Her nails raked down his back again, and he groaned low in his throat. That sweet little body beneath him—it was like a drug. Soft, hot, perfect. She met every thrust with a gasp, her lips parting, her voice growing needier each time he sank back into her.
"Ben..." she whispered, barely audible. And fuck, the way she said his name—it undid him.
He pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling, both of them slick with sweat now. She was trembling, and he could tell she was trying not to—biting down on her lip like she didn't want him to know how much she felt it. But he knew. He felt it too.
Every time she clenched around him. Every time her hips stuttered up to meet his. Every time she whispered his name like it was the only word she knew.
They didn't make it to the bed again. Not really. After that first time—slow yet passionate—they couldn't stop. It was like something had snapped between them. The tension, the push and pull, the looks... all of it exploded into heat.
The couch. The wall beside the kitchen.
The goddamn floor.
Ben didn't care. He'd never felt this wild for anyone. Never needed someone like this. Not just sex—it was the way she gasped, the way she touched his face, the way she looked at him like she couldn't believe he was real.
By the time sunset painted the trailer in gold and rose, she was stretched out beneath him again, body shaking as he coaxed another climax from her with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. Her moans had softened into whimpers. Her fingers curled around his wrist. Her thighs trembled against his sides.
And still, he didn't stop.
He wanted to feel her fall apart again. He wanted to give her everything. Slowly, rougher, deeper—whatever she asked without saying a word.
He held her gaze the whole time.
"Ben," she whispered again, voice broken, sweet, desperate.
"I got you," he murmured. "I've got you, baby..."
And he did.
All damn day.
⸻
It was probably close to 1 a.m.
Rey felt the soft, steady rhythm of Ben's breathing against her back—his snore low, just audible, his arm slung heavy around her waist like even in sleep he refused to let her go. She giggled quietly, trying not to wake him as she shifted inch by inch until she finally managed to peel herself from his grip.
Even in his sleep, he was possessive. It made something warm and stupid twist in her chest.
She tiptoed through the trailer, her bare feet cool against the floor, and splashed water onto her flushed cheeks. Her reflection stared back at her—hair wild, lips kiss-swollen, a faint red mark just beneath her collarbone. Holy shit, she thought, eyes wide as the memories washed over her like waves. That happened. That really happened.
A lot.
She covered her mouth to muffle another giggle.
She'd never—ever—thought her first time would feel like this. Good didn't even begin to cover it. It had been messy and intense, yes, but also... kind. Warm. Slow in the beginning, fast when she asked for more. His hands had learned her faster than her own. His mouth—God.
She blushed hard, biting her lip as she leaned against the sink.
And then she'd gone back for more. Again. And again.
She shook her head, smiling into her cup as she filled it from the tap and drank slowly. She didn't even care that the water tasted faintly metallic. Her body ached in places she didn't know could ache. But it was the good kind of ache—the kind that reminded her this wasn't a dream. This happened. He happened.
Him. Her. Them.
And she had no idea what it meant. No idea what would come next.
But tonight? She felt beautiful. She felt... wanted.
She felt his gaze in her bones, even asleep.
And she knew she'd never forget the way he whispered her name.
⸻
She stirred at the faint, unmistakable scent.
Coffee?
Her eyes blinked open fast, hand shooting to the space beside her—still warm. He was still there.
A relieved smile tugged at her lips before she even fully stood, tugging down the hem of her oversized tee as she padded quietly toward the tiny kitchen space. And there he was—Ben Solo, shirtless, hair a mess, towering over her little coffee machine like it had personally offended him.
He was muttering under his breath, brow furrowed, one hand gripping the side of the machine while the other hovered like he couldn't decide whether to threaten it or just walk away.
She stepped in just as he grunted, "Why the hell won't this thing—"
Rey leaned in and tapped the side of the machine—once, twice—before it let out a groggy buzz and began brewing with a wheeze.
Ben paused. Then slowly turned to look at her with a raised brow.
"Oh," she said sweetly, "it's a delicate creature. Needs coaxing."
He smirked. "Ah, so a touch of roughness gets the job done." He winked, voice low and still laced with sleep.
Her cheeks flushed deep as she stepped past him to grab mugs, and his hand—warm and unapologetic—tapped her bum on the way by.
She squeaked.
Ben just grinned behind her, sipping air like it was coffee, utterly unrepentant.
He took the mug with one hand, sipping slowly—deliberately—his eyes fixed on her over the rim. Dark, hungry. Lust wasn't new on him, but this look... this look had weight behind it.
Then he set the mug down.
"Hand me your phone, Rey."
She blinked, fingers fumbling slightly around the ceramic handle of her own cup. That was not what she expected. "Why?" she asked, a little too breathy, a little too quick.
Ben rolled his eyes, but not unkindly. "Just give it, will ya?"
There was a beat of silence. Rey stared at him. Then, almost embarrassed by how fast she obeyed, she reached for her cracked phone from the counter and handed it over. His fingers brushed hers when he took it—deliberate, slow. He didn't look away.
Didn't look away at all.
Rey felt her nerves rush back. Her stomach twisted just a little. She already had his number—why on Earth—
Ding.
A text?
Maybe Rose finally wanting that talk. Maybe Finn—wasn't it Wednesday? They usually went to the movies.
Ben handed her the phone back, his expression unreadable.
She glanced down. Froze.
A deposit.
$4,000.
Rey's mouth fell open. "Ben—"
He was quicker. "Zip it."
His voice wasn't sharp, but it cut clean through her words.
"It's not out of pity," he said firmly, stepping in a little closer. "I want to take care of you, okay?"
She looked up at him, blinking fast.
"This wasn't a one-night stand, baby." His voice dropped lower. "This is..."
He ran a hand through his already-mussed dark hair, his jaw tightening, lips tugging with the weight of something bigger than either of them.
"I don't know what this is yet," he muttered. "But I do know you're not going nowhere."
She didn't move. Couldn't.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers again, firmer this time.
"You hear me?"
Her voice caught. She nodded once, barely.
He let out a slow exhale. "Good."