chromisomi

Nine months ago

Summer was by far Ben’s least favorite season. The sun was always bare and bright and stinging, and the tourists crowded the streets, adding on to the already insane amount of Los Angeles traffic. A sheen of sweat kept his dress shirt stuck to his back as he made his way around his office, searching for anything that might be of use in his time away.

His laptop and charger were already tucked away safely in his bag. But he eyed the shelf of memoirs and personal development books, a handful of them still left unfinished. His luggage was already nearing the 50-pound weight limit for the flight, so there was no hope in adding a few reads.

His backpack, though. That could take one book, he supposed.

“You’re leaving, then?”

Ben paused, pushing away the wave of unease that always came with his director’s presence. He glanced over at the wrinkled man, who was leaning against the doorframe and eyeing Ben with that old, beady gaze.

They’d already had this conversation months ago, when Ben mentioned an offer from the east coast university. But Alfred Snoke was nothing if not relentless, always prodding and observing, waiting for a lie to surface in Ben’s responses.

“It will only be two years,” Ben reminded him, turning back to grab a random book from the shelf, too focused on steeling his composure to notice which one he picked. “My absence will not be a permanent one.”

“It is an absence, nonetheless.” Snoke smiled but his eyes were flat. “Mitaka can only do so much without your guidance. The company was doing so well when you were… staying put.”

His voice hadn’t risen, but there was a threat in his words. A message in the words he didn’t say.

“I assume I’ll be under surveillance. You’ll see that this is only me pursuing further education.” Ben’s lips thinned as he packed the book in his bag, his back facing Snoke. “We also haven’t created any political connections in DC. It could help us in the long-term, when we’re planning our next relocation.” He was grasping for anything at this point. “My only priority is the First Order.”

“Hm.” Snoke’s voice croaked closer from the doorframe. “Do your best to remember what happened to Enric Pryde, my young apprentice. Perhaps it will help you focus on what’s best for our company.”

Flashes of the older man’s scent came to Ben then.

Decayed and rotten and punished beyond saving.

Pryde was the only one who managed to get away from Snoke’s hold, though he didn’t make it very far. That was a particularly difficult cover-up for Ben, as the news and media caught word of the father’s disappearance.

“All my priorities lie with the First Order,” was all Ben said.

“As they should be.”

Snoke stood in the office, silently observing Ben as he packed what more he could into his backpack. His stare was heavy on Ben’s nape, a threat in and of itself. It wasn’t until a low ringtone broke the silence when Ben finally took a breath. He gave his director a curt nod and briskly left the office.

Snoke’s voice followed him down the hall from his office, though. His words were low and rushed. He was taking a call.

“Prepare my room, boy. I’ve been gone long enough…”

One of his house servants, Ben assumed as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. His phone buzzed in his hand and he looked down to find an Instagram notification. His breath caught at her username – she posted again.

Only two more months now, until they might cross paths again.

He won’t pursue her, he’s promised himself that. But he’s in need of that distraction again, in need of some rush to his monotonous days. Maybe he’ll find her in the campus yards snapping another photo, or maybe they’ll bump into each other at a coffee shop.

Two more months, it was a vow that repeated in his head as he entered the elevator, two more months until I can see you again.

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The storm outside calmed to a drizzle by the time Rey opened her eyes. The cabin was dark and still, outside the birds were silent to the whistle of strong wind. Only the crickets chirped their nightly tune – a sign that it was too early for her to rise.

A warmth emanated from behind – a body wrapped tightly around her. Kylo had moved during her sleep. He was now beneath the covers with her, legs entwined with her own, as his breaths came slow and even.

How strange it was, to find great comfort in a stranger’s touch. That was what he was not even a month ago. A looming knight promised to deliver her safely to her death, nothing more. How did he grow into something else so quickly?

Rey traced his arm, lost in thought. Maybe it was a given. She had spent so many nights alone, discouraged by the sound of crying whenever she’d approach her mother’s closed door in search of some company. Of course, she would fall victim to the attentions of an unassuming knight. Of course, she would search for meaning in his stares and touch.

What else would those who’d been discarded wish for?

Her tracing grew heavy, pressing deeper into his skin. Kylo didn’t shift or give any indication that he was awake behind her, so she continued her touch, traveling up and down corded sinews. She’d never encountered a bigger contradiction than this – a surface so hard yet soft to touch. It was a hard and wired thing, coiled with muscle underneath his smooth skin. She found herself enchanted by it.

“You’re awake,” a voice rumbled from behind, deep and roughened from sleep. Rey stilled her hand. “It’s not morning, yet.”

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The sun was hot and punishing when Rey found herself under the creature's hungry gaze. Away from the forest’s shadows, now out in the open of another grassy field, the view of its arachnoid form was clearer and somehow more threatening, looming several inches above her.

Only the strongest come out during the day. Kylo’s words came to mind and she risked a sideways glance to where he battled three more like this one. 

Okay, it’s okay. She clenched her quarterstaff as the creature crept closer. Don’t yell for Kylo. He’s busy. You got this.

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“You haven’t eaten all day.” 

The sun had lowered further past the base’s walls when Rey opened her eyes. Somewhere near them, pigs squealed and snorted, snorkeling in their bowls of food. 

They’d finally made it to Stannis’ base, the land’s farming grounds. It was where all the animals were herded to when Palpatine’s rule spread and the beginnings of a shadow-crawled and separated land came about. 

She sat up from her sack and found Kylo frowning at her. To his left lay his helmet.

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A sacrifice for the greater good. One life for the well-being of all. All Reyana Palpatine needed to do to fulfill her purpose was die.

So, why did the council appoint her a guard?

NEW reylo fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55202233

After grabbing a few things from her apartment, the rest of the day is spent at Ben’s, with the two on their laptops in the dining room downstairs. Though, in hindsight, she should’ve insisted on being in separate rooms, because studying with Coruscant University’s lecturer Ben Solo proved to be unproductive. Her mind would wander each time his leg brushed hers or whenever she caught sight of the way his hand spanned easily across the laptop’s keyboard. Then that would lead to thoughts of how those same hands felt tracing her skin, her lips, her center.

And when Ben caught her staring?

Well.

“How are you already so wet?”

The words come out in a hot breath against her slickness. He has to hold her stomach down to keep her from squirming, but the table is cold beneath her back. “Ben,” Rey whines.

His nose brushes a sensitive nub and she squirms again. The hand presses down firmer before he closes his mouth on her, drinking in anything he can with long swipes of his tongue. It’s all too much – the view of his dark hair moving between her legs, the wide span of his hand pressing against her abdomen, the way he drinks her in like a man starved.

Another crack of thunder echoes in the sky outside.

“Perfect,” she thinks she hears him say.

And then he sucks.

The pleasure all too soon comes crashing down. Her back arches and a cry leaves her lips, the world bursting white until she’s left pulsing with heat and want and something… different. Something deeper, something that has her nearly in tears as she looks down at Ben. He pulls away from her, his glistening lips tugging into something of a smile – one that fades once he catches her look.

His eyes darken.

With no words, he unbuckles his belt and shoves down his pants and briefs. He rubs himself against her slick, coating himself in it, and then thrusts inside. The table creaks and Ben moves to grip her hips, pulling her closer to the edge, her opening pressed against him. When he pulls back and thrusts inside again, the table shifts backward with a groan.

“Oh!” Rey yelps when he suddenly gathers her in his arms and carries her to the living room, lying her down on the couch and huffing as he climbs over her.

“So much for getting work done,” he rasps before entering her again.

It feels like a sacred practice, the way her legs move on their own to wrap around his hips, the way he peppers kisses down her jaw as he moves – slow at first, then faster once he hears her moans. Arms wrap around her back and hands cup her ass, pulling her closer to himself as if being inside isn’t close enough. They move as one, on a couch in a house of untold memories. And once the hot breaths and roaming hands, grunts and faint cries, spill over, they’re left wrapped together on the couch in a panting heap.

“Do you have any idea,” Ben mumbles, his lips brushing her temple, “how happy you make me?”

Rey nudges closer to his neck. “No. Tell me.”

“An unbelievable amount.” His response is quick. “Unquantifiable.”

Her breathing grows shallow. Underneath her hand, she can feel the quick thumping of his heart, racing at the speed of her own. “You make me happy, too,” she says lamely.

“I do?”

Rey nods. “You do.” She thinks about it some more, trying to find a way to put her feelings to words without cringing at herself. “And… I don’t know, you make me feel safe.”

He hums at that, and his arms wind tighter around her back.

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“Did you forget anything?”

“I’ve got all my equipment packed, so I think I’m good.”

“Even the tripod?”

“Even the tripod.”

“All your clothes?”

“On my body.”

“I think you left your hair bands up–”

A car horn blares outside, cutting Ben off short.

“That would be Finn.” A nervous smile tugs at Rey’s lips. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry about the hair bands. I can… come back another time.”

The end of her sentence rises in intonation, sounding more like a question rather than a statement. Dammit, did it sound like she was begging to come back?

But it’s something that needs to be defined, isn’t it? She stands at the open door, the cool morning breeze tickling her skin as she looks up at Ben, the question obvious in her stare. Is this more than a one-night stand?

“I’ll pick you up tonight.”

Tonight? “Tonight?”

He nods. “We can grab dinner. If you’re free, of course.”

One-night stands don’t grab dinner together, do they? Rey searches his expression, finding nothing but a quiet assurance. “I’m free.”

Ben nods again and looks down at her lips. She almost leans in, but they’re both aware of Finn’s watchful gaze from his car just outside. Ben settles for a kiss on her cheek instead, light and lingering. When he pulls back, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “I’ll pick you up at 5, then.”

“Okay,” her voice is small. “I’ll see you tonight.”

His stare doesn’t leave her as she turns and makes her way to Finn’s car, a soreness making its presence known between her thighs with each step. A reminder of him until the evening, she thinks with a growing grin before opening the car door and sliding into the passenger seat.

Her smile drops when she finds Finn’s searching gaze waiting for her inside.

“He practically kidnapped you.” He turns to start the engine.

“It’s not kidnapping if I’m willing.”

“Brainwashed you, then.”

Rey huffs out a laugh. “It’s okay, Finn. Nothing bad happened.”

The Camry pulls out of Ben’s street and makes a turn at a stop sign. “Well, at least Poe and I were right about him wanting to bone you.”

“Finn.”

They make their way through the mid-Atlantic streets, weaving in and out of DC’s morning traffic as Finn tells her about the internship he’d gotten accepted for. Rey hears herself congratulating him as she pulls out her phone, but there’s only one thing at the forefront of her mind. She types his name on her search bar, nodding at the appropriate places in Finn’s story before frowning at the search results.

Alfred Snoke, as it turns out, does not have a LinkedIn account.

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Her lips taste of spearmint, whiskey, and the promise of ruin.

Ben will remember this, maybe all his life. As he moves to pull away the band holding her lower bun, he memorizes the way she feels on his mouth. The way she tastes, the way she smells, the way she gasps when the bun finally comes free. He takes it all, greedily. Unapologetically.

And despite the urgent need for more , there’s still a voice that tells him he should stop, that he should pull away and walk her out and never have her come back again. That this has gone too far, that what had started as a harmless distraction grew into…

Rey moans when his fingers weave through the hairs at her nape, tugging her head back. The sound curls at his core, sending blood straight down south until he can feel himself hardening.

Into this.

No. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her. Not after everything, after all this time. There isn’t a single thing in the world that could keep him from her now. Nothing could pull him away as nothing else, in this moment and every other in her presence, exists.

It’s just him and her and their lips finally finding solace.

“Unreal,” Ben breathes against her jaw, leaving a thorough trail of kisses behind. “This isn’t happening.”

“Is it not?” She whispers before fingertips trace along his erection.

Jesus.

Ben’s trail of kisses grows hungrier with each descent down her soft neck. Greed takes over as he sucks and nips and licks at her throat, eager for more gasps and moans. “Touch me again,” he breathes against her collarbone. More. He needs more.

A palm wraps around the bulge barely contained beneath his zipper and Ben groans.

Where their faces meet – her cheek to his browbone – Ben feels her smile. He’s almost overcome by the desire to watch it grow. “Like that?” Rey whispers.

“Just like that.”

“Mm.”

The same, damning palm tightens its grip on him, pulling out another breathless groan that buries itself in the crook of her neck. She continues her ministrations, distracting Ben in his pursuit down her throat until he’s left a panting mess. He cannot be close, not now. Not before he’s even seen her.

Fingers work at his belt now, quickly undoing its buckle before he stops them in its movement. Rey looks up at him. “Let’s… slow down.” His hands move to her hair now, undoing the rest of her buns. When he catches the embarrassed downturn of her gaze, panic urges him to drop more kisses along her jaw. “I won’t last long if we go this way.”

Behind strands of her loosened hair, Rey’s cheeks flush. “Okay.” Her gaze is still lowered.

Ben grabs ahold of her hip. “I’d rather you be on top of me if I’m going to finish prematurely.”

She looks up now, her lips parting.

There they are. Those hazel-colored eyes.

With hands glued to her hips, Ben helps Rey as she throws a leg over his lap. She’s facing him now, her thighs pressed to either side of him, his thickness engulfed by her warmth. There’s nothing else her eyes, those beautiful, damning eyes, could do now but rest on his.

“Take your hoodie off.” His voice had grown husky.

A smirk tugs at her lips. “Take it off of me yourself.”

God, how his cock throbs at that.

Ben wastes no time in sliding his hands underneath the hoodie, dragging it up and over Rey’s raised arms, revealing more and more skin until…

A strangled noise leaves his lips.

She isn’t wearing a bra.

Pink, hardened nipples stare back at him as Ben takes in her freckled breasts. His hands move up her sides, slow in their approach to her chest. Rey only watches him, no hint of discomfort or wariness shining in her eyes. She wants this. Or… does she want this? Is this okay?

Ben swallows. “May I…?”

She nods.

Not enough. “Rey, I need to hear you say it–”

With a huff, Rey grabs his hands and guides it to her breasts.

“Touch me,” she murmurs.

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“Who are you texting?”

“Oh my God–” Rey jumps at the feel of Finn at her shoulder before pushing him away. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Finn looks at her messages with a grin. “Business is booming for you, huh?”

Rey rests a hand on her racing heart. “Of course, it is.”

He hums at that, stretching out on the couch until his head rests on her lap. “Oh, Rey. What are you going to do when you’re all famous and rich?” He looks up at her with a pout. “You won’t forget about me, will you?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“So, you haven’t forgotten to tell me about any late-night hookups in kitchens that belong to a certain secret admirer of yours?”

Rey blinks.

“Traitor!” Finn jumps up, facing her on the couch with an accusing finger. “You told Poe and not me? Your first friend? Your best friend? I thought he was lying!”

Shit.

“I… forgot?” Rey cringes.

“Suck it up, peanut,” Poe calls out as he enters the room in sweats and a faded hoodie. “I’m her favorite now.”

Rey glares at him. “I told you not to say anything.”

“It took you two weeks to say anything.”

Finn gasps. “Two weeks?”

Rey rubs her eyes. “It’s been a busy two weeks.”

Poe plops down between the two on the couch. “She hasn’t told you she’s hooking up with him tomorrow, too, hasn’t she?”

“What?”

“It’s not a hook-up!” Rey jumps to defend. “We’re finishing up his real estate photos tomorrow. That’s all.”

Finn glares at her. “And Poe knows this before I do because?”

Rey opens her mouth to explain before closing it. She points a finger at him. “You’re never here!”

“We have cell phones that are perfectly capable of texting!”

“You wanted me to tell you about that over text?”

“No.” Finn furrows his brows. “Yes! Don’t make excuses!”

Rey turns her head to Poe. “I told you he wouldn’t take it well.”

“I’m sitting right here!”

The rest of their evening descends into chaos, with accusatory fingers being thrown in every direction and voices pitching to all-time highs. Their lighthearted argument (with, admittedly, some substance) continues on as the evening sun sinks into the night, darkening the world outside their living room window.

Eventually, the allure of a thriller movie night leads to the three cozying up under a quilted blanket, with Netflix and the comforting aroma of stovetop popcorn dissolving any and all tension left over.

“What time are you meeting with Solo tomorrow?” Finn whispers to Rey as Poe snores away at his shoulder.

“5 o’clock.”

He nods. “I’ll drive you.”

“What?” She turns to him. “Why can’t I drive?”

“You lost all privileges to my car the second you confided in Poe before me.” Finn sniffs.

“That can’t be an actual reason.”

“And,” he pins her with a serious look now, one tinged with concern, “because I don’t want any more late nights between you and Solo.”

A smile begins to tug at her lips as her heart warms. “Finn, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” She nudges his shoulder. “We’re not going to hook up.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.” Finn takes a deep breath, eyeing her before asking, “When was the last time that user messaged you?”

Her smile falters. How long had it been? “It must’ve been a few weeks now.”

“And they hadn’t tried contacting you through any other means?”

“… No?”

His lips press into a thin line. “Don’t you think it’s weird? Someone goes to such lengths to know you, to talk to you, and gives up just like that? After one block?”

“What are you getting at?”

“What if the user is someone you’ve already met? What if the reason they aren’t so hellbent on finding another way to talk to you is because they’re already doing so?” He presses his lips into a thin line, letting the question settle in. “Look, just… what I’m saying is be careful. And be aware.”

Rey frowns, turning Finn’s words over in her mind, even long after the movie had finished and they had all gone to bed. She turns them over in the morning when she wakes up the next day, in the afternoon as she gets ready, in the car as Finn drives her to the address she’d given him.

She doesn’t stop doing so until the familiar colonial home pulls into view, a large, two-story brick structure adorned with bay windows and an emanating warmth that tugs at Rey’s heart, as if beckoning her inside.

She’s back.

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One year and three months ago

Niima’s Creek.

The pale, distant sun watched as Ben took a seat at his usual bench, doing nothing to warm him in the midst of the morning chill. He wrapped his coat tight around his chest to block the breeze, crossing his arms as he looked around the park and its lack of visitors. 

There, by the creek, stood a couple chatting quietly, arms wrapped in a tight coil as they watched the creek’s languid stream. A little ways down walked an elderly man, one that Ben had grown familiar with throughout the days, going on his daily morning walk. And on Ben’s right passed a jogger sparing him a quick glance before checking her watch. Other than them, Ben was alone.

She hadn’t come yesterday. Nor the several days before that. But today, maybe today, she would come. And he would go up to her and ask for her name, or maybe just sit there and continue to watch from a distance. It didn’t matter to Ben, as long as she was there for him to watch. To keep him from thinking of other, more recent, troubles.

Thin build. Brown hair pulled into three buns. A camera strapped around her neck. The image burned at the back of his eyes, his mind turning it over and over until her face became just a bit distorted. Did she have a small nose? Were her lips thin or plumped? Her hair might’ve been a dirty blonde, maybe?

Ben paused at the buzz of his phone ringing deep in his coat pocket. That, he frowned, would have to wait. He had quite a few hours until the service anyways, and he would spend all of that time waiting for her. Searching. 

His phone buzzed for the fourth time that hour before Ben decided to pick up his mother’s relentless calls.

“Yes?” Ben snapped.

The other end of the line responded with static-filled silence. Ben checked the phone screen to see that, yes, it was his mother calling, before pressing it to his ear again. “Ben,” she finally spoke, her voice firm and steely. “Where are you?”

His eyes scanned the park again before resting at the creek. “I’m on a walk.”

“You’ve been gone all morning.”

Ben checked his watch again. He had been gone for three hours. “I’m not going to miss his funeral if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She sighed. “Come home, Ben.”

Laughter ruptured to his right and his head perked at the sound. Narrowing his sights in on the incoming crowd, Ben strained to see who it was , searching for a match to his distorted image of her. There was a girl, yes, just a couple within the approaching group.

Ben found himself standing, focusing on a girl with her head turned away. He eyed the way her brown hair barely reached past her shoulders, imagining how it would look pulled into three buns. It’s her. It’s her, it’s her, it’s her.

The girl turned just slightly and his short, elated burst died down.

The girl's brows were too thick, her cheeks too full. 

It was not her.

“Just one more hour,” he muttered, not so much to his mother on the line than to himself.

He heard her sigh again before disconnecting the call. Ben sat back down.

Just one more hour.

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