Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ben was in love with Rey. 

A fact that he now knows he should have kept to himself. Still, he’d let it slip anyway. If he could rewind to the start, to the night it all began, he might have kept his distance. 

Or at least, he liked to think so.

Relationships, historically, were not Ben’s thing. Hence the friends with benefits situation he had struck up with Rey. 

It started after their two friend groups had converged in a housewarming party for Hux and Rose. The party had been too loud and crammed with more people than the fire marshal would have allowed. Ben had been lurking near the window, nursing a beer, trying to decide if leaving early would make him a terrible friend. That was when Rey appeared at his side, her hair slipping out of its bun, cheeks flushed from the heat of too many bodies packed into one room. 

She tipped her glass toward him in greeting. “Having fun?” She nearly shouted over the music and noise.

“Loads,” he responded dryly, cutting her a look and… Oh.

She was smiling at him. Just a little quirk of her lips but it hit Ben like the wind had been knocked out of him. It struck him then, in that small action, just how pretty she was. Olive skin dusted with freckles framed hazel eyes. The green in her eyes sparkled like gemstones even in the low light. For a second, the noise of the party fell away. Just the two of them, her eyes bright, the corner of her mouth still crooked with amusement.

“I’m um… Ben.”

“Hi, um… Ben.” she said, laughing a bit at her own joke. “I’m Rey.”

“Rey,” he repeated, testing the way her name felt on his lips. “Short for something?”

“Nope. Just Rey.” 

“Huh. Simple.” He tilted his head. “You don’t strike me as simple.”

“Oh?” Her brows lifted, clearly intrigued. “And what do I strike you as?”

He hesitated, pretending to think it over. “Trouble.”

Her smile widened. “Good trouble or bad trouble?”

“Still deciding.”

A crash from across the room caused both of them to swivel their heads. Two of Rose’s friends, Finn and Poe had taken over the tiny kitchen table with beer pong, and said beer was now covering the floor. They both walked across the room, going to help clean up. It wasn’t long after that the party had started to thin out. 

After making sure that Hux wasn’t gonna commit a murder, he went to the coat rack to head out. And she was there, Rey, wrapping a scarf around her neck.

“Heading out?” She asked as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Yeah. You?”

She nodded. “I live a few blocks over.”

“Lucky you.”

“Or unlucky. Depends on who walks me home.”

He blinked. “Is that an invitation?”

“Depends on whether you accept.”

He did. Of course he did.

They had both been a little tipsy, words spilling slurred, cheeks pink from the alcohol and cold alike. The November air bit at their faces just enough to make them huddle closer, their breaths puffing in little clouds in front of them as they walked away from Hux and Rose’s apartment. She was laughing about something. He couldn’t remember about what, only the way her head tipped back and showed a smile that was all teeth. Then, under a random lamp post, her lips had found their way to his. 

It wasn’t neat, that first kiss. It had happened suddenly, teeth clicking before they settled into it. Her lips were cold from the night air, but soft. His mind nearly blanked out from the scrape of her fingernails against the back of his neck and the warmth of her body pressing closer to his coat. He wanted to keep going, but needed to make sure they were on the same page.

“Hey, wait… wait,” he muttered, pulling back slightly to look at her. His voice was low, and it was a wonder he could hear himself over the way his chest hammered. “Just so you know—”

“Oh god,” she looked up horrified. “You have a girlfriend.” 

“What? No.” Ben huffed a laugh. “No, the opposite actually.”

Her eyes widened. "Oh shit, a boyfriend?” 

“Rey, no,” he muttered, shaking his head, chuckling. “No, no boyfriend or girlfriend. It's just… I don’t um… I just don’t… do relationships.”

The words hung there for a second, and for the first time that night, she’d gone quiet, her face unreadable. But Ben tried to, his eyes raked over her face, trying to see if she was going to keep kissing him or perhaps punch him. He rushed to fill the silence. 

“So if that’s what you—”

“It’s not,” she’d interrupted.

He’d blinked down at her. “It’s… not?”

“I… I don’t want anything complicated,” She worried her lip between her teeth, sounding a little unsure. “I was kind of just hoping this would be like a one night type th-”

“Oh. Right, Yeah.”

“So like if you’re still co—”

“Yes,” He answered quickly, cutting her off. His hand found her chin, tilting her face back toward his. “I’m very cool with it.”

Her place had been close, but it didn't mean they got there quickly. They stumbled to their destination, slowed by the need to pause and bring their lips together every few steps. 

By the time he pushed her against the door of her apartment, Ben wasn’t sure if he had ever been this turned on in his life. He was determined to make it good for her. Good enough that she would ask him to do it again. Because he already knew that once wouldn’t be enough. 

They barely made it inside before they started to leave a trail of coats and shirts. Ben pushed the hem of her skirt up when he went to his knees for her, palms skimming her thighs before pulling her panties to the side. His mouth was on her before he could think twice. 

His tongue barely dipped between her folds before her hips bucked against him. He guided one of her legs over his shoulder, pressing her against her sofa for support. His knees would hate him in the morning, but her honeyed sweetness was worth the tinges of pain. With practiced precision he teased her clit, quickly learning what she liked. When he sucked the little bud between his lips, Rey gasped his name, one hand white knuckled the sofa, while the other buried in his hair. She came on a hoarse cry.

Pulling Ben away, she eagerly led him down the hall to her bed. 

The rest of their clothes fell away as they crossed into the room. Ben soon learned that Rey gave as good as she got. Ben would never forget the look on her face when she pushed him to the mattress, laughing as she climbed on top, his dumb-struck face surely the cause of her amusement. 

Her laughs dissolved into sighs though as he bucked up into her. She rocked against him then, head tipping back like it did when she laughed, only now sweet gasps and moans fell from her lips. He held her hips, pacing himself, giving her everything until she came apart above him, wild and beautiful. 

If Ben had one regret from that night it would be that he wished he had taken his time with her. When she collapsed forward, breathless, he flipped her beneath him, chasing her into the storm she’d dragged him into. He slipped his hand between them working her clit till she came again, and he followed with a grunt. As soon as it was over Ben knew, if he ever got another chance, he would make it last. 

When Ben collapsed next to her the room was silent except for their breathing. Rey sprawled across her bed, hair tangled across the pillow, her grin loose and satisfied. Ben lingered beside her for a moment longer than he should have, watching the rise and fall of her chest. She almost hurt to look at, something about her too bright, like stepping into sunlight after being cooped up indoors for too long. 

She looked over at him then, and her face broke into a full smile. “Okay,” she said slowly, “that was… not terrible.”

Ben let out a laugh, low. “Not terrible?”

She shook her head, her laugh joining his as she sat up. “Fine. Pretty good. Maybe… like, repeat-worthy.”

Something in his chest tightened. He propped himself up on an elbow, brows furrowed as she reached her hand out to him.

“Phone.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Your phone.” She wiggled her fingers impatiently. “In case I don't want to wait til the universe decides to throw us together at the same party again. Ya know?”

He rolled over, searching the floor for wherever his jeans had ended up. He had to get out of bed to get them. The phone retrieved, he handed it over, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb. 

While she typed, Ben took the opportunity to dispose of the condom and put his boxers back on.  When he turned to her, her face was illuminated in the blue light, she was chewing on her thumb, eyes narrowed in concentration.  

“Everything ok?” He asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Huh?” Her head popped up. “Oh yeah… just trying to pick the right emojis.” A few more taps and she tossed the phone between them.

Ben glanced at the screen. She’d saved her number under Rey with several emojis behind it. Most made sense, like the winky face… but others…

“An eggplant?” He looked back at her, eyebrows pinched.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled back the covers to stand up. “You’re such a boomer, you know that.”

He looked back at it again and… oh yeah. That makes sense. 

“I think it has more to do with sleep deprivation than age.”

“Whatever you say old man,” she called over her shoulder, tugging a t-shirt over her head. 

Ben stood, slid his arms around her waist and pressed her to him. He dropped his mouth next to her ear, letting the warmth of his words brush her skin.

“And how many times did this ‘old man’ make you cum tonight?”

He feels her shudder in his arms before she turned, pushing him back slightly, lips pressed together in a thin smile. 

“Don’t be so smug.” She was all but shoving him out the door, but Ben didn’t care, not as long as her hands were on him. “You should probably go before I change my mind and block your number.”

“All right, all right.” 

He pulled on his jeans, and they both had to rummage through the living room for his shirt, laughing at the minor chaos they’d made. Once he was dressed and shoes on, he headed out the door, but not before pausing and looking back at her through the doorway. She was standing in a large t-shirt, and about to close the door. He caught it, and their eyes met and he swore they both shuddered. 

“Goodnight, Rey,” He said softly. 

“Don’t get sappy,” she warned, but she smiled before closing the door. Just before it clicked shut, he heard her. “Goodnight, Ben.”

And so, for nearly a full year, they had fallen into a routine. Seeing each other a few nights a week. Acting like they barely knew each other at the parties their now blended friend group threw, but always leaving together. 

Somewhere along the way, Ben fell in love with her.

Honestly, when he thought back to that first night, maybe he had been half in love with her even then. 

He lied to himself for months saying it was enough, the bubble they had created. But each time she left, it got harder to let her go. Each time he said goodbye, even just for a few hours, he felt the weight of what he hadn’t admitted, what he couldn’t stop feeling.

He desperately wished he would have just kept his mouth shut. 

Chapter Text

The apartment was too quiet, it always left Ben with thoughts he tried and failed to ignore.

It had been three days since they had last been together, but traces of her lingered all over. He laid still in his own bed because every time he moved he could smell her. Her lotion or shampoo had seeped into the sheets from when she had stayed, even as she swore she would leave before sunrise, sleeping past noon instead. 

Ben rolled onto his side, facing the desk and chair in the far corner. Her shirt —well his, but she had claimed it and wore it every time she stayed— hung there like a ghost, daring him to touch it. He didn’t. He wasn’t that pathetic yet. Still he stared at it, while he reached for the phone. He needed to see her, have her here again and maybe finally work up the courage to convince her to stay. 

For good.

Ben: When can we meet up next?

Even though it's late, Ben sees that she’s received it, reads it, and soon three little dots are dancing at the bottom of the screen.

Rey: A booty call on Wednesday night? Highly unlike you.

Ben: I think it's technically Thursday morning, but that's not the point. Do you have plans Friday?

Rey: I think Pagie was throwing some kind of party, but I was kinda thinking of ditching it.

Ben felt his heart quicken, as he typed his response. 

Ben: Then come here. Bring clothes for the weekend.

Rey: Why? Your shirt is so comfy.

“Fuck me,” Ben muttered in a mix of fustration and awe as he threw his head back against the pillow. She knew, absolutely knew, what she did to him.

Ben: You won't be in them much, but better to be prepared. 

Rey: Always the planner. Fine. I’ll be there Friday. 7?

Ben: See you then.

Rey: Now go to sleep, or else you’ll be taking midday naps and really looking like a grandpa. 

He rolled his eyes, but turned off his phone nonetheless. He rolled over then, pulling the pillow she had slept on into his arms. He inhaled, her scent faint but there. He closed his eyes, already counting the hours until she would be back in his bed.

***

The clock on the stove read six fifty-seven when she knocked on his door Friday night. He already had dinner simmering on the stove, a pasta that was anything but authentic filling the space with the smell of garlic and butter. He had her favorite wine, a sweet red that was more grape juice than anything else, open and airing on the counter. 

“It’s open,” he called over his shoulder and he heard the door click open then shut. He turned to see her wide-eye expression as she took in the scene. 

“Is that…” She paused and tilted her head to the side “Are you playing Taylor Swift?” 

He turned and pouted at her “It's a playlist from that TV show you wouldn’t stop talking about, the one with… Belly? Connie Baby?” 

“Oh my God,” she laughed, walking to him and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I made you watch all three seasons, you should remember the name.” 

She turned and leaned against the counter, inhaling deeply, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards. She gave him a sideways glance, eyebrow slightly pinched. The faint suspicion in her eyes made his stomach tighten.

“So what's the special occasion?”

“Shitty week at work,” he shrugged, deflecting her suspicion. He turned and poured them both a glass of wine. Handing her a glass with a deep kiss, “ I wanted all my favorite stress relievers tonight.”

Her smile curved around the rim of her glass as she sipped.

“And I’m stress relief?” 

“Sometimes.”

She laughed as she perched herself on his counter. She stole little bites from the pans as she talked about her own week at work. Something about clueless executives and frozen computers, her voice rising with mock outrage.

“How can someone make a six figure salary but can’t figure out how to restart a computer?”

Ben mostly listened, stirring sauce that didn’t need as much attention as he gave it, pretending not to notice the way her knee brushed his hip when she swung her legs. He doesn't talk about work, because the truth was it was painfully boring. The shitty part was that it had been a whole work week since he had seen her, had her in his home filling it with her laughter and light.

She hopped down when he started to plate their dinner. She grabbed her plate and followed Ben into the living room, tucking herself into the corner of the sofa that Ben calls hers in his mind. They could have eaten on the bar or even the little table near the window that overlooks Hanna City. But he knows she liked it here, where she could sprawl out and eventually rest her legs across his.

“This is sooo good,” she said around a mouthful of pasta. “I thought you hated cheesy pasta?”

“You made me see the light.” He helped himself to another bite. She didn’t need to know about the antacid he had taken before she even got there as a precaution. 

“And that's what I’m here for, Solo, to expand your culinary knowledge.”

“And cinematic taste?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey,” she pointed her fork at him. “The Room is a classic. We laughed a lot.”

“Yeah, at how bad it was.”

“Its so bad it's good.”

He put his empty plate down on the coffee table. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She scraped the last bits from her plate, then handed it over. He set it beside his and leaned back, settling into the sofa. His hand drifted absently to her leg, tracing slow, lazy lines up and down her calf.

“You're gonna have to give me a minute,” She patted her belly. “Food baby.”

“That’s fine,” Ben said, eyes falling to his hands, thinking about how he couldn’t wait to peel the leggings off of her. He turned slightly, so that he could lean over her. “But you make it incredibly hard to keep my hands to myself.”

Rey grinned, sinking lower into the couch. Her hands reached up, fisted in the front of his sweater and pulled him even closer to her. 

“I never said you couldn’t touch,” her breath is warm on his lips. “Just not the whole show. Not yet.”

She doesn’t know, Ben thinks as he closes the gap between them, that is exactly what he wants. Lazily he moves his mouth over hers, pulling at her lips with his. The taste of wine lingered on her lips, sweet and sharp at once. One of his hands braced himself beside her head, the other slipped up her thigh until it rested on her hip, thumb tracing slow, idle circles through the fabric.

He felt her arch under him, pressing into him but still not hurrying him along. Her fingers curled in his sweater as if anchoring herself. His tongue ran along the seam of her mouth, Rey parted for him, welcoming it in with her own. 

Every sigh from her sent a pulse through his chest. He knew he should pull back, have the conversation like he planned. Instead, he kissed her harder, swallowing the words before they could escape.

He didn’t miss the way her breath hitched when his mouth left hers, tracing his way along her jaw, then lower. The place beneath her ear where her pulse fluttered, the place that always made her wild. He felt it under his lips, quick and unsteady. Something in him ached at the sound of her soft, involuntary sigh.

His hand at her hip slipped under the hem of her shirt. He pushed up, feeling her ribs. He pulled the cup of her bra down, rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger. He smiled against her skin as he felt her hips rise, seeking friction. Not yet, he told himself as he rested his palm over the warm skin of her breast. They had time.  

“Rey…” His voice came out rough, breathless against her throat. He wasn’t sure what he meant to say, only that he had to say something. “You—God, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” She sighed, her hand coming up to card though his hair, pulling him back to look up at her. Her eyes were half-lidded, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

He nodded before dropping to let his lips brush the edge of her collarbone. “Yeah. You’re—” The rest tangled on his tongue. Beautiful. Perfect. Mine, he almost said. Instead, he let his mouth drag down the dip of her shirt, pressing the words into her skin instead of speaking them.

“Ben,” she whispered, and when she said his name like that, so soft and gentle, he thought maybe, maybe she felt it too.

“I don’t think you know what you do to me,” he said, adjusting her legs now to settle between her thighs. He pressed into her, watched as her mouth fell open in a soundless gasp. “Do you feel it?” 

“Ben,” she said, reaching for him. He let her pull him down, lips crashing together again. 

Their kisses turned frenzied, hungrier than before. Teeth clanged as tongues tangled but neither seemed to mind the mess, lost as they were in each other. Yet, neither rushing to tug or pull at clothes. Ben felt the now all too familiar tightness in his chest, like his heart would burst out of him. He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, breath ragged. 

“Do you, Rey? Please, tell me you feel it.”

Her hips rolled against his. Her laugh trembled between them.  

“Kinda hard to miss,” she said as she tilted her head, trying to recapture his lips. 

“No,” He shook his head, voice breaking a little. He rested his hands on her hips, holding her there. “No, Rey. Please.”

She wrinkled her brow at him. “Ben what are you ta-”

“I love you.”

The words were raw, unpractised, pulled straight from the center of him. He needed her to hear them. He pulled back, so he could see her face. 

She just looked up at him, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide. 

“I love you and I need-”

“Stop.”

She had gone so still under him. Neither of them moved. Ben’s chest tightened. This wasn’t how he’d meant for it to come out. But it was too late to take it back, and something in him knew this was the line he couldn’t retreat from. 

“I’ve been in love with you for months, Rey. And I can’t keep pretending it’s casual. Not when it isn’t.”

She pushed him back then, shaking her head as she sat up. “Ben, no-”

“Rey, please just listen,” he said as she stood. He did the same, trying to keep her in the living room. “I tried to ignore it but… I don’t want anyone else in my kitchen at three in the morning. I don’t want anyone else in my bed, in my clothes. I want you.”

 His voice cracked but he pushed through.

“Just you.”

She stood there gaping at him before she shook her head again, gently pushing past him, towards the door. 

“Rey, wait,” he said as he caught her wrist. 

“No,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from him. “That’s not how this works. We said we’d keep it not complicated, no feelings, just—just fun. You don’t get to rewrite the rules because you’re…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed it down. “Because you’re suddenly feeling sentimental.”

“It’s not sudden,” he said, moving towards her, heart pounding. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, I just—”

“Stop.” She was walking away again, pulling on her shoes. “You don’t get it. You don’t get to do this to me.”

“Rey—“

“No!” She marched over to him, finger in his face. “I told you I didn’t want anything complicated. I told you exactly what this was. And you—” She broke off, shaking her head. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but couldn’t seem to find the words.

He saw the tears then. They both stood there, the only sound her soft, uneven sobs. Then she took a shuddering breath, wiped her face and turned. She moved quickly, before Ben even had time to react. She grabbed her jacket and purse and threw his door open. 

“Rey, wait,” Ben said, helpless. His hand twitched at his side, useless, heavy.

She didn’t glance back as she stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

The echo seemed to last forever.

Ben stood there, staring at the empty space she’d left behind. 

Chapter Text

Ben stood in the middle of his apartment for a long moment, staring at the door like it might open again if he just willed it hard enough.

It didn’t. 

When he finally moved, it felt like walking through a dream. A nightmare. The kind that used to send him running to his parents’ room as a kid. Only this was real. 

The evidence was there on his coffee table. Two empty dinner plates and wine glasses, one with red lipstick stains around the rim. He gathered them up and carried them to the kitchen, determined to wash the night away.

He placed it all in the sink, filling it with warm soapy water. His hands felt clumsy, too big for such small, ordinary movements. He took care with the thin wine glasses, carefully removing the red stain in the shape of her lips. He placed them gently in the rack. He washed the plates, the pans, every utensil by hand, as if each action could help him put the night away piece by piece. 

When he reached to wipe the counter, he froze. A memory rose unbidden, sharp and too bright. He closed his eyes, as if he could push the thought away. But it didn’t help. There in his mind it was so clear, almost like he was in the moment again. 

***

Standing against the counter, watching Rey tear though his kitchen. His black button down hung loose, dipping down one shoulder and barelying brushing the top of her thighs. 

“Do you even own food?” Rey’s muffled voice had echoed from inside his fridge, followed by the rattle of jars and a sharp clatter when she knocked something over.

Ben had just stood there arms crossed, watching as she straightened up with her hair sticking out in every direction. She picked up whatever it was that dropped, half her body now reaching into the farthest corner of the fridge. 

“I have food,” he huffed. 

“Lies,“ she shot him a glare over her shoulder, already rooting through the cabinets. “You have ingredients. That doesn’t count as food.”

“I use them to make dinner. Dinner I shared with you.” He raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t food?”

“Yeah, but that was then. What about now?” She yanked open another door, squinting at a dusty box on the shelf. “Oh my God, Ben. Is this oatmeal? What are you, a 70 year old man?”

He couldn’t help laughing, shaking his head as she pulled the box down anyway, inspecting the label like she was weighing the ethics of eating it.

“It’s easy in the mornings," he muttered.

“You’re impossible.” She set the box down, then padded barefoot across the floor toward him, arms folded dramatically. “You can’t invite a woman over, keep her up all night, and then not have snacks. It’s inhumane, illegal, probably.”

Her nose wrinkled as she delivered the accusation, but her grin betrayed her.

Ben’s lips curved, slow and helpless. Something about the whole situation was ridiculous, her in his clothes, tearing apart his kitchen like it belonged to her. And yet the sight lodged deep inside him, like an anchor.

He realized, standing there in the dim light of his kitchen, that he wanted her. Just Rey. In his shirt. In his home. In his life. For as long as he could have her.

He swallowed it down though, pulling her into him then. She let out a tiny squeak. 

“Next time I’ll be better prepared.” He dropped his mouth down to her neck, sucking lightly at the skin there. He heard her groan before pushing away from him. 

“Oh no you don’t,” she wagged her finger at him, before turning back to the cabinets. “No round…” She paused, considered, “four for you. Not until I get something to regain my— AH HA!”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “What, did you find buried treasure?”

“Better.” She brandished a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a half-empty bag of chocolate chips in the other. “The holy grail of midnight snacks. See? I knew you had to be hiding something.”

Rey hopped up onto the counter, bare legs swinging, and began scooping peanut butter straight from the jar with her finger, topping it with a few chocolate chips.

“You’re supposed to use a spoon,” Ben pointed out.

She smirked at him, deliberately licking her finger clean. “This is more efficient.”

He swallowed hard, watching the way her tongue wrapped around her finger. “Efficient. Right.”

“Don’t knock it til you try it.” She held the jar out toward him like an offering. “Want some?”

Ben crossed the kitchen, planted his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. She stared at him, hungry for something that wasn’t in the jar she held. 

“Waiting.” He breathed out softly. 

She didn’t look away as she stuck a finger down into the peanut butter. She fumbled a little as she reached for the chocolate, making both their mouths twitch. Then she was bringing her finger to him, and all the humor was gone.

Slowly, he wrapped his lips around her offering. He kept his eyes on her, especially as he dragged his tongue over the pad of her finger. He held her there, the chocolate melting in his mouth. He swallowed, and then—Sucked. Rey’s breath caught as he pulled off her finger. She held his gaze a little longer, before grinning wide. 

“See?” she whispered. “Efficient.”

“Yeah. Efficient.” His hands moved off the counter, sliding up her thighs, spreading them so that he could fit between them.  “It would also be efficient for me just to fuck you here and not worry about going back to the bed.”

“Hmmm,” She said, helping herself to another scoop. “I could also keep eating my snack, so… Extra efficient.”

Her eyes flicked to the clock, her smile faltering. “Shit, I didn’t know it was so late. It's almost three. I gotta go.”

She shifted like she was going to slide off the counter, but his hands tightened on her thighs, holding her there, the weight of his body pressing closer. The thought of her leaving hit sharper than he expected. He tried to sound casual as the suggestion left his lips.

“Or…” he said, voice lower now, thumb stroking absent circles just below the hem of her shirt, “you could stay.”

They had been doing this for a few months now. Making plans for hooks up almost every weekend. But they always left each other’s respective beds before morning. Ben knew he was toeing the line, if not completely crossing it. 

Her eyebrows lifted. “Stay? Here? With your oatmeal?”

“Yeah,” he deadpanned. “I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”

She laughed, about to protest, but he was already moving. Before she made any argument, he lifted her up effortlessly, her squeal echoing through the kitchen.

“Ben!” She smacked his shoulder with her hand, laughing so hard she dropped the chocolate chips on the counter. 

“Bed,” he said firmly, carrying her down the hall. “Non-negotiable.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered into his chest, but her arms looped around his neck anyway. Hope swelled in his chest that she wasn’t saying no to this. Especially when she nuzzled into his neck, pressing kisses along his jaw. 

By the time he laid her back down in his bed, both of them were grinning, the air between them lighter, softer. He let her keep his shirt on, just pushed it up over her hips. He pulled her thighs up, opening her to him as he settled between them. He pressed a kiss to her knee, then another, a little lower.

“Now this,” he murmured against her skin, lips brushing the sensitive, soft skin inside her thigh, “is my perfect midnight snack.”

His tongue parted her folds then, not at all surprised to find her wet and wanting. He took his time now, tracing circles around her clit. Slowly he slipped a finger inside, giving her something to clench on to as he worked her to yet another release. Above him, Ben could hear her, the little mews of pleasure when he sucked her clit or curled his fingers inside her just right. Where her thighs started to shake around his head, he knew she was close. 

As pleasure crashed over her, he tore his mouth away. Reaching for his bedside table, fished out the little gold foil packet. With practiced hands, he rolled the latex down and then after removing his fingers, pushed into her to the hilt. It wasn’t the first time he had entered that night, but honestly the feeling of her taking him never got old. 

It didn’t take him long to set the pace they both liked. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he rocked into her. He leaned forward, lips returning to the spot on her neck that he had teased her with in the kitchen. She bucked as he sucked at the sensitive skin.

“Ben,” she gasped, her hands raking his back, pulling him close to her. 

And he was lost. In her, in the feeling of her pulling him deep in and pressing his body closer. His lips found hers, swallowing her sighs as he came, grunting into her mouth. His hand slipped between them to make sure she followed close behind. When he rolled next to her, her eyes were already closed. Not asleep, her breath was too uneven. Like she could sense him watching, she smiled. 

“Pancakes?”

He laughed, breathless, tugging the covers over her as she burrowed into his sheets.

“Panakes.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before brushing a strand of hair from her face. 

Her breathing evened and he knew she was already asleep. He slipped out to clean up the peanut butter and chocolate chips they had left out before and made sure he had everything for pancakes. Then, quietly he joined her in his bed, careful not to touch her. This was a new line, but maybe if he just let her sleep, didn’t hold her, or wake her with a kiss, then maybe they could keep pretending it was just fun. Maybe he could keep her a little longer. 

***

The memory blurred at the edges, dissolving like smoke. Ben braced both palms on the counter, bowing his head. His hands were still damp from the dishes. He stared at them for a long time, the ghost of her weight in his arms, her laughter in his ear, playing cruel tricks on him. He'd thought saying the words out loud would change everything. In a way, he’d been right.

Just not in the way he wanted.