TW: Violence, dark humor, all that jazz. Go no further, angry shit, yadda.
So, yanno...i'm just gonna yell into the void about something.
When i was very young, I read a lot of encyclopedias. Most of my knowledge of the world was attributable to the Encyclopedia Britannica, which my mother kept because well, a home should have a nice, impressive looking set of books. Along with a bunch of other old books that just...really weren't the best choice for a regressive anti-technology apocalyptic fundamentalist cult, but then, as we used to joke, my mother doesn't have to make sense, she just has to make decisions.
So, I eventually started plumbing the depths to try and figure out "what the hell is wrong with my family."
While i didn't get an answer about my family in general, I did note that i seemed to be oddly suited to the definition of "psychopath," minus the whole "being a problem for society at large" thing. Asocial, low empathy, lack of guilt, inability to plan cohesively, difficulty conceptualizing consequences, near total lack of emotions except curiosity and rage, both of which are carefully stifled, aggressive tendencies...frankly, I look at my younger siblings and i can definitely assure anyone that asks that had I not been raised quite far away from society, or if I'd stayed in the cult, I would most definitely have been a problem for society.
But psychopaths are *monsters,* you see. They're so, so bad, you see. Everyone assured me, at great length, that I couldn't be that, no, no sirree. I was too nice. Too kind. I didn't punch people nearly often enough (largely because I don't like being punched outside of sex, and I like to be in charge of where I'm being punched, and even that mostly cause I'm kinda badly out together physically, but that's aside the point.)
I wasn't *hate-able.* My empathy was too high.
On that last note, I have spoken elsewhere and i believe here regarding my empathy. My empathy is specifically a learned skill picked up by reading Edgar Allen Poe's Auguste Dupin stories. Dupin explains his near preternatural ability to get inside people's heads by his learned skill of micro-mimicking body and facial language and then analyzing what he feels when he copies someone else. Works absolute wonders, particularly as up to that point (i was 8-9), I was using the classical technique of provoking and hurting people around me to experimentally figure out how other people worked. Admittedly, it's somewhat like recording a speech and listening to it at the lwvel of a whisper in a crowded room, but then mimicry is far less likely to get you punched, and see previous for my feelings on getting punched.
But now i had, for all intent, a system to demonstrate empathy. Thanks to my mother's abuse, I had a complete paranoid delusion aping guilt. I could check plans past others, and once I got my hands on Google at 14, I had the capacity to directly look up what the general, societal consequences of most actions were and model behaviors that achieved my ends. I further had 18 years of direct training in mind control and manipulation, thanks to my cult.
You may notice that what you just read sounds like the origin story of a serial killer. Ape people around them to avoid detection, paranoia making them scrupulous enough to not get caught, and careful study of laws to find the lines, plus a hyper manipulative persona.
Roll with me here. This continues forward.
So, i'm out and about, 2, 5, 6 years free of my cult. I have married a self avowed psychopath who actually HAS been diagnosed with antisocial disorder thanks to a teenage habit of theft and punching people. He is fairly sure I am not one, since I perform guilt and empathy fantastically, by rote at this point. I literally have days that my face hurts from faking emotions for too long, i am slowly developing agoraphobia because there are far too many people to mimic in a retail job, and my guilt subroutine is just a voice chanting in my head, "they're coming to get you, don't fuck up" 24/7 to the point that i am developing hallucinations, but yeah. It's definitely not psychopathy. At this point, that's just ASPD, and i'm just too darn social. Never that. I'm no monster, you see. I'm "nice."
About this point, I have learned to use mind control techniques to help people, carefully applying them with direct permission to help people open up and discuss problems. My near preternatural ability to get into people's heads, my ability to find information, and my absolute lack of fucks about morals (thus making me wildly nonjudgemental), makes me the go-to confidant for many of my friends. This neatly surrounds me with people that can smooth my life out, but you can't tell people you're friends with them cause the world is made of grey paste and you're deathly bored 24/7 and being allowed to pick through people's minds and help them optimize is the closest you get to not wanting to shoot yourself or others. Or that you carefully maintain contact with people so you can check and make sure you're not doing anything jail worthy. Or that a large group to mimic lets you blend in easier, and finding one that also is transgressive, but socially permissable (thanks, kink) blows off some steam.
Of course, people that don't know me find me deeply off-putting, as I am at this point rapidly learning to turn off the mimicry when not immediately interacting with people. This results in me appearing utterly emotionless, but as soon as people talk to me, bing, back on. I had also joined the kink subculture, giving my hedonistic and transgressive sides an outlet.
I'd also gone to the trouble of getting a multifaceted degree. Ostensibly, my degree is "multimedia journalism." If you aren't aware, this means I have a degree in research, interpersonal communication, public speaking, written communication, mass communication, some psychology, critical thinking, media creation and analysis. In short, I have the literal perfect degree for figuring out, communicating with, and functionally understanding people, as well as a vastly enhanced ability to locate obscure information.
Fast forward again. Three mental breakdowns, four years of therapy, poking at my gender, figuring out a lot of mental health problems, and a rotating series of diagnoses, life is...slowly improving. I've left a toxic marriage (toxic on both sides), moved to a completely new place, started over. I have sort of resigned myself to focusing on my (admittedly annoyingly complex and wide ranging) physical disabilities.
And it comes up, in talking to my partner, that his adoptive mother displayed (she's dead) quite a few signs of ASPD. And he asks curiously if there's any connection between ADHD, autism, and ASPD, mainly cause the "personality disorder" part. PD's can, with long or early exposure, sometimes be passed on, you see.
Guess what's being studied, right now? Not a connection between ASPD and ADHD. A connection between psychopathy and ADHD. Wait, but I thought psychopathy wasn't a thing, says I? I thought there was only ASPD, now?
Ah, but for you see, the DSM is a load of horseshit. And i have heard that from multiple communities with different relations to it, and from multiple therapists, psychiatrists, professors...as a general rule, when the people who use it, the people it's used on, and the people who teach it all agree that a document is manure, I get a touch distrustful. I get more so when current studies use umbrella terms disavowed by a document known for being reductivist and that has been noted as having a great number of entries that were manipulated deliberately to make them as narrow and unusable as possible.
So anyway.
Turns out that while no, ADHD and Autism don't make you a psychopath, there's a distinct overlap. Empathy issues are a possiblity in all three, though both ADHD and autism can create *hyper*empathy. Inability to navigate social constructs is another point of overlap.
But really, it's the serotonin deficiency that hurls it across the line for me. And the genetic factors. Can psychopathy result from environment? Yeah, seems so. But there does seem to be a genetic and neurochemical component. Which is...curious for a disorder presented as purely a traumatic abreaction that creates dangerous amorals.
I then looked it up. And wouldn't you know, psychopathy is only pathologized as ASPD/APD, and DPD? The former is the sort of psychopathy that is characterized by violent amd criminal antisocial behavior, and the other an inability to understand and perform social mores at all. But this is the DSM, so these are of course diagnosed by problems caused for others as a first line.
Violation of societal norms, lack of emotions other than rage, aggression...it's almost like the same people that named a serotonin and function deficiency Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder to enshrine the disorder only by those aspects that make neurotypical people uncomfortable rather than seeking to help the neurodivergent person, the same people that invented torturous behavioral correction therapies to "fix" the neurodivergent person? Those strike me as people that might possibly have looked a serotonin deficiency that causes rage, limited emotions, impulsivity, difficulty conceptualizing consequence, and potentially a hell of a lot of other fun side shit and decided to call that "Doesn't get along with others well" disorder.
What really kicks it in the teeth for me, however, is that psychopathy used to mean more than "a social pariah." You see, Theodore Millon, the guy that wrote the book on personality disorders, noted between 5 and 10 subtypes. Do you know what they are?
Nomadic
(including schizoid and avoidant features)
Drifters; roamers, vagrants; adventurer, itinerant vagabonds, tramps, wanderers; they typically adapt easily in difficult situations, shrewd and impulsive. Mood centers in doom and invincibility
Malevolent
(including sadistic and paranoid features)
Belligerent, mordant, rancorous, vicious, sadistic, malignant, brutal, resentful; anticipates betrayal and punishment; desires revenge; truculent, callous, fearless; guiltless; many dangerous criminals, including serial killers.
Covetous
(including negativistic features) Rapacious, begrudging, discontentedly yearning; hostile and domineering; envious, avaricious; pleasures more in taking than in having.
Risk-taking
(including histrionic features) Dauntless, venturesome, intrepid, bold, audacious, daring; reckless, foolhardy, heedless; unfazed by hazard; pursues perilous ventures.
Reputation-defending
(including narcissistic features) Needs to be thought of as infallible, unbreakable, indomitable, formidable, inviolable; intransigent when status is questioned; overreactive to slights.
(It should be noted: the features listed above are simply what each presentation is most likely to display if disordered. A reputation-defender may not display narcissm, a risk taker may not be histrionic. A malevolent [what a terribly judgy name...] could be negativistic, or avoidant, or histrionic. And so on.)
Now, ya may be going, "wait, hold up, narcissism is on there! We still have that! Schizoid is on there, we have that! Sadism, paranoia, we got all those things!"
Flash quiz: do you know what a personality disorder is? It's a series of learned behaviors that require moderation and unlearning.
Why yes, they did spin multiple neurotypes off into diagnoses that require behavioral therapy to "fix." Why on earth would you think they wouldn't? They're still trying to use reparative therapy on auties. Hell, near as I can figure, histrionic got spun into Borderline Personality disorder. You know what the therapy for that is? DBT, aka, "it IS your fault and you SHOULD feel bad."
Beyond knowing there used to be different flavors, did you know that there is about a millionty scare articles about how psychopaths are everywhere? Guess why.
What do you get when someone has an absolute need to see what's on the other side of the hill and no real fucks to give about how you get there? You get scientists, explorers, people utterly driven to find out. Think about how many of our science and exploration heros are noted as deeply weird and off-kilter. We have whole stereotypes about this. There are books and articles devoted to the transgressive personas and behaviors of famous scientists and explorers.
What do you get when someone is belligerent, paranoid, truculent, violent, fearless? Snipers. Literally. The army has openly stated they like psychopaths quite a lot. Someone that can look at a map of human lives and commit calculus with the phrase "acceptable losses" makes a damn fine general, wouldn't you say? Hunters, too. Make a good king? Or bounty hunter. Or, if we're going to be honest, a martial artist. Hell, think of all the ways our society accepts violence in real terms and symbolically. Management. Video gamer. Espionage. Actuary. Pest control. There are THOUSANDS of of societal uses for people like this.
Covetous? Well, banks are openly quite loving towards psychopaths. CEOs are indicated here. Businessmen. Fandoms with collection as a function have any number of anecdotes of individuals who have an intense drive to get more. "Focused on the chase, rather than the victory, to the exclusion of all else" is considered a positive, laudable personality trait. To put it in other terms, "can't stop, won't stop, never done." Sports players, yes? Football, rugby, hockey...
Risk takers are the real standouts, in terms of societal love. Doctors. Firemen. EMT's. Skydivers. Extreme sports players. Equipment testers. The list goes on. Society loves risk taking psychopaths. Hell, look at the diagnostic criterion up there: it's mostly traits with high positive connotations.
Reputation defending? Politics. Law. Advertising. Acting. Writing. Religion. Leadership of any kind.
I'm not talking out my ass here. All those fields have been noted as friendly towards, attractive to, and having a high representation of people who fit the behavioral model of psychopath.
But only if they're useful. Like literally every other non-normative neurotype.
Society loves ADHD and autistic people when they're displaying savant abilities or when they can mask well enough to use their sensory and cognitive differences to societal ends.
And if they're a problem for people around them, that's treated. The underlying difficulties? The societal structures that punish and harm them? The pain of adapting their entire neurobiome to do all the work of interfacing with different neurotypes while being driven to harness anything useful and discard the rest of their brain? No, we don't treat that. That's just the price of doing business. "Pull yourself up and don't be a problem."
And here's the problem, in plain terms: psychopaths who learn to cope, to mask, to adapt like I did are never diagnosed. I have spent most of my life fairly concerned about the fact that I seem not to have emotions or compunction, that i am always consciously working to figure out and connect to people around me on the most basic level, that I am constantly working to keep an active model of social norms going at all times. And I don't mean "shake hands, eye contact." I mean I have the same mental conversation regarding "don't shoot that person" and "use a turn signal." All prosocial behaviors, all social behaviors period, are a struggle to understand.
The funny thing is, it also makes antisocial behaviors difficult. Shooting someone seems remarkably inconvenient in many cases. Regardless of whether I care about getting caught or not, shooting somone will interrupt my day.
Not shooting them also seems remarkably inconvenient in many cases. Yes, it'd be a pain in the ass to shoot them, but then again, if I do it correctly, I only have to do it once.
But again, "correctly" is a wildly unfixed variable, and the whole question won't come up if I always ensure I fail the "do i currently have a firearm" step. And I don't. Ever.
That's how my brain works. Y'all go on about moral and ethical and legal reasons. That's an exhausting conscious mental conversation to have every other day, so my shortcut is:
"Should I shoot them? Oh, right, I don't have a gun. Guess not. Should I get one? No, cause I might shoot someone, and that'd be a pain in the ass. Welp, no shooting people."
And so it goes. I don't understand any social norms. Good or bad. I have all the problematic issues still, mind you. Environmental factors. I mimic and I was raised in an apocalypse cult in Oklahoma. I spend a lot of brain space sorting between prosocial behaviors and the violent antisocial behaviors I was taught were prosocial.
Because, you see, I can't really understand the prosocial behaviors, but I can see they work. And antisocial behaviors don't, really. Have i impulsively pocketed something? Couple times. Even got away with. Can't steal a house, though. And theft gets boring, for me.
Ok, except piracy. I may quite enjoy piracy.
Cooperation with a larger whole can and does yield benefits. Forcing myself to sit through mind numbing gratification delays does seem to yield results that are beneficial, though I really try to keep that one to a minimum. I refuse to be bored if I can help it. Making nice talky sounds gets me shit faster than making angry talky sounds.
Possibly this is a result if being raised manipulative. No idea. Kinda don't care.
Point is, I'm one of the psychopaths that, while not immediately useful, is also not actively a problem. So no-one will listen when i talk about everything being gray and cold and exhaustingly complicated because people make no sense and almost all my emotions are dialed so far down it's a joke i lack the ability to laugh about.
No one has believed me that the one emotion I have in spades is rage and that i have to literally consciously work out from first principles why violence is a bad option as my sole method of controlling that, my ONLY EMOTION OF ANY STRENGTH, which I cannot allow myself to feel for any length of time because I start losing sight of that consequence model and I worry i'll make a mistake I can't unmake. Or that it took me two decades to learn not to smash things I need when someone looks at me funny. Or just smash them.
Or that i have to keep my hands in my pockets and chant "don't steal" in my head some days. That I wear tight clothing with shallow pockets to make stealing harder so that, like guns, I simply can't do it easily and therefore short circuit my behaviors.
People are more than happy to hurl me at any problem that requires a lack of emotion, but if I dare to be less than appropriately emotional on a date? At a wedding? Funeral? If I make an error and don't diagnose it myself and perform contrition appropriately, regardless of if I knew there was a social or personal rule there? Well, I'm fired/broken up with/punished/evicted.
But I am not actively a problem for society. So none of those things are worth diagnosing. Or helping in any way.
And those that are useful? Are often fed utter horseshit and encouraged to break society. Bankers creating recessions. Generals commanding useless wars. Cops. Doctors that uphold a broken system. Politicians that pursue a broken society.
I know, I can see, that ASPD people catch a shit ton of shit cause they get blamed for "useful" psychopaths mistakes, and none of the benefits when said same psychopaths are lionized. Looking back at what it was, and what it is now, pathologically speaking, it makes perfect fucking sense for the asshats that designed a diagnosis to only include the people they don't like as the "sick" ones, and label the "good" ones as "heroes." Makes a nice distinction there between people we want to demonize and people we want to lionize for having the exact same chemical imbalance, and neatly creates a fall group when any of the "heroes" trip up. Silence those who can't cope, elevate those that can, treat neither effectively, and if an elevated one stops coping, we can just "realize" they were "sick" all along, and oh, yeah, those sick people are so bad, you guys, nothing like those heroes at allllllll.
I am...so tired of this society bullshit.
So anyway, I'm a psychopath. Paranoid, some schizoid. So whatever grains of salt you feel like taking, grab 'em, I guess. I'd mostly like for people like me to stop being weaponized, lionized, or punished for having a different neurotype. I'd like to be able to talk to a doctor about that and for there to be some options beyond "stop that," "get locked up," "have you considered the army" (yes, a doctor actually asked me that as a teenager) or "you seem fine, tho."
And if you resonate with this, well...I'm 32, never been arrested, mostly managed to avoid terrible shit, and I've got a life, couple partners, and I'm surviving, so like. You can do this. Lotta people wanna tell you you can't have this or that cause "you're not bad, tho." They're stupid. Y'ain't evil, just different. Don't let them get to you.
And (this is a joke) if you decide to shoot someone, do it once, correctly. Saves time.
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[CLEAN VERSION] Soul Searching, Ch. 34
Sexual situations redacted.
If you’ve read the story until now, you’ll note that sexuality in the past has been referenced but not explicit. That’s the level I’m going for in the clean version, as well.
I’m including a brief non-explicit description when context is necessary.
Original version on AO3 here.
Chapter 34: Redemption
On the idea that Ben and Rey can’t come back from what’s happened so far, or that any regressions are permanent: Human emotion and behavior isn’t a linear thing. Ben and Rey’s relationship is upward trending, but it’s not going to be a smooth line. It will have rises and dips. Hard work in real life isn’t always enough, that is true, but being soulmates pretty much guarantees that the work these two put in will actually work.
I’ve made conscious choices not to sugarcoat some of the less flattering aspects of working through problems. Ben and Rey are not always shown in the best light, and I think that’s important because it’s very human to be selfish or to change your mind or to circle back — all while trying to be kind and considerate and trustworthy. It’s a process.
Rey couldn’t sleep.
She wore one of Ben’s old t-shirts and some shorts, and she kept having to roll over to try and find a more comfortable position.
He’d rejected her.
That was the right word, the word for the crawling misery keeping her awake. Rejection. She felt rejected by the man she loved, her soulmate, and embarrassed that she’d put herself out there.
She sniffled and wiped her eyes on her damp pillow.
She hadn't wanted him to see her cry.
Her chest ached, and it wasn’t until she had her hand on the door to Ben’s room that she realized something invisible and instinctual was drawing her to him. She paused to give that a moment of thought, then let herself quietly in.
She wasn’t surprised to see him sitting up in the dark, knees drawn up under the blanket and arms draped over them.
He didn’t say anything, just moved over to make room as she crawled into bed with him. She lay on her side facing the door, and he slid down, wrapping his arms around her, the weight warm and comforting.
They lay quietly for a few minutes, letting their racing heartbeats even out.
“Have you been awake all this time, too?” Rey whispered.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, nose in her hair. His arms tightened gently, and she heard him swallow. “I hate fighting with you.”
She rolled over so she could look at him. It was dark, but she could make out the paleness of his face. “I don’t understand. You said you were ready.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”
“And you said you’d trust me to know when I’m ready.”
“Yes.”
She frowned into the dark, trying to discern the expression in his eyes and failing. “So what gives? I’m not trying to argue here, I genuinely don’t get it. Did you change your mind?”
“No,” he whispered quickly. “No. I mean… I don’t think so.” He set his chin on top of her head and blew out a breath. “I guess I could have explained it better.”
She scooted closer, reveling in his warmth on the narrow mattress. Maybe it was a soulmate thing, that being in his arms brought her so much peace. Maybe it was being in love with him. She didn’t know, and she supposed it didn’t really matter.
“I wasn’t objecting to the idea itself — although, now that I think about it, losing our virginity with my parents asleep upstairs sounds pretty horrifying. We should definitely get a hotel room when the time comes.”
“Our” virginity. The reminder hit her hard. She kept forgetting that he wasn't actually more experienced in this than her. It was just so easy to assume that he was less invested, that it wasn't as big a deal for him, because he was so much older.
She felt a little shitty for kicking him out, now.
“I just… I want your consent well ahead of the actual event. I want you to have time to change your mind if you need to.”
Rey frowned. “I won't.”
He kissed her forehead, then her nose. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I won’t be comfortable unless I know you have that.” He shook his head a little. “And I know I should have told you all of this earlier, but I didn’t even realize it was something I needed until you offered.” He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, rueful. “Things have been moving a lot faster than I thought they would.”
Rey burrowed under his chin. “Yeah.” That was an understatement. She pressed her face against his collarbone and inhaled the scent of him as she mulled over his words. Something still bothered her, but the sting of rejection had already faded.
Ben rubbed her back with one big palm. “I know I’m being overcautious. It’s just really important to me, Rey. I need to be absolutely sure that you’ve had time to think about it and back out. Just in case.” His hand drifted to her waist, then up to the nape of her neck. “It means something to me. Being with you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead again. “Maybe it’s needy or unreasonable or something, but I’d really appreciate it.”
Rey tilted her face up and kissed the part of his face that was closest, which was his jaw. “I’m sure now. But I guess I can do it your way if that’s what you need.”
He tugged her closer, arms firm around her, and let out a grateful sigh. “Thank you.” He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling her scalp.
Rey hummed, relaxing further. He was being unusually affectionate. When she pointed this out, he huffed a laugh.
“I never get to just hold you,” he replied.
“It’s nice,” she said, pressing her forehead against him and letting him tuck his chin on top of her head. He had a grey t-shirt on, and she kissed his bicep right where the sleeve ended, then lay quietly for a moment, just listening to him breathe. “Is this how it’s always going to be? Imploding like that? Wading through the aftermath?”
He took a deep breath. “Probably not. I think most of this is just… there’s a lot to deal with right now.” He dropped a kiss on her hair. “Things will settle down.”
Rey sighed, but her body relaxed against his, and she let her thoughts drift from the safety of his arms.
She still didn’t get why they had to wait.
But she knew him. He wasn’t malicious. He wasn't trying to play games. And, once she pinpointed what was bothering her, he’d listen.
And she didn’t have to figure it all out tonight. That was something her therapist had impressed upon her when she'd gotten frustrated that she couldn’t put her feelings into words: it was okay to process at her own pace and address something when she understood it, even if it was days or weeks or months later.
Ben was asleep, his breathing even, the soft sound lulling her. Rey set her worries aside and let herself relax into his embrace, her eyes fluttering shut as warmth seeped into her bones.
A light knock made Rey jerk awake. Ben’s arms were still around her, and he raised his head blearily to peer at the door.
“Ben?” said Leia from the other side.
“Yeah,” he called, voice rough with sleep.
“If you see Rey, remind her she has an appointment this morning.”
Rey buried her face into Ben’s chest in mortification as he laughed silently.
She felt a lot less embarrassed when his lips found hers and he kissed her slowly, lazily, until they were both awake.
“Good morning,” she whispered when he drew away. She felt oddly shy, on her back now with him propped on one arm beside her.
He smiled and toyed with her hair. “I could get used to this,” he murmured. “Waking up to you.”
Rey could, too, but she didn't tell him so, flicking a glance at the door instead.
Yeah, Leia definitely knew where Rey was.
Rey blushed and felt the urge to chase after Leia and protest that nothing had happened — ironic because so much had happened yesterday. Just nothing after she crawled into Ben's bed.
She didn't know where the urge to defend herself on that narrow precipice of logic came from, but she decided to ignore it. Considering all they'd done, she couldn't in good conscience tell Leia she was a blushing innocent.
And it wasn't like Leia had asked.
Rey glanced up to find Ben looking at her oversized sleep shirt with an odd expression.
“I thought you would have thrown these out,” he said, rubbing the black fabric between his fingers. “Or burned them or something.”
Rey followed his gaze down to the faded band logo. She shrugged. “I was angry, but I still wanted to hold onto whatever pieces of you I could.”
His eyes softened, and he pressed his lips to hers once more. “I missed you,” he whispered fervently, and Rey wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down, deepening the kiss.
“What’s your appointment for?” he asked a little while later, focused on brushing her hair back from her face.
“Therapist,” she replied, trying to nip lazily at his fingers.
“Aha.” He searched her eyes for a moment and nodded once, firmly. “Good. Good timing.” And he started to get up.
Rey clutched at him, tugging him back down.
Ben only smiled and kissed her forehead. “Later,” he promised, moving to get up again. He stood and shucked his shirt and tossed a smile over his bare shoulder. “I don't want to make you late.” He held a hand out to her, and his smile was tender. Understanding, even. “Come on. There'll be time later.”
Ben was refilling his coffee when his mom looked up from her cereal and said, “Ben.”
“Mhm?” he mumbled, still tired from staying up late worrying that he’d thrown things with Rey back to square one. He’d had to force himself to stay in his own room and give her space, and it had been a near physical relief when she’d come to him.
He had slept deeply after that, but he still could have used another hour or two, especially as he was still adjusting to the time change.
“Come sit,” his mother said, gesturing to the chair adjacent to her.
Ben took his coffee and sat.
His mother watched him silently for a while, as if gathering her words. He could see the discomfort written in the lines on her brow, the reticence, the struggle, and he knew what it was she wanted to talk about.
But he waited. He could have helped her by starting the conversation, but it was a conversation he didn't want to have.
Her first words were a question. “It’s only been, what, forty-eight hours since you came home?”
Ben inclined his head, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “Close to that.”
His mother looked away, her frown deepening. “She’s had so little time to process everything.”
He inclined his head again, tensing as her point drew closer.
“Please don't rush her.”
There it was. He saw the way his mother winced, as if she knew she was interfering but had to say it anyway.
Ben’s first thought was that he wasn’t the one rushing things. But he didn’t say that, didn’t feel comfortable exposing Rey to his mother like that.
And he hadn’t exactly been a passive bystander in the whole thing.
He mulled over responses for a long while, some defensive, some aggressive, some apologetic. His mother’s concern lined up too well with his own worries and exacerbated the overprotective urges he’d been trying to tame. Her words made the little voice telling him She’s so young that much louder.
He firmly squashed that voice and spoke more to it than to his mother. “Rey deserves the chance to make her own choices.”
“I just think it would be better if you waited.”
Ben sighed, annoyance leaking into his voice. “Perhaps, but that's not really up to you.”
His mother inclined her head. “No, it's up to you.”
“It's up to Rey,” he corrected.
“She's so young, Ben.”
The little voice broke free and whispered agreement. Ben scowled. “You weren't much older when you met dad.”
His mom sighed, unable to argue with that. His parents had an even wider age gap than Rey and himself.
“I was so fucking young,” she said wistfully.
“Do you regret it?”
She shrugged. “Some things. Not marrying Han, though.” A softer smile, full of memories. “Love is a powerful aphrodisiac.”
Ben winced and grabbed his coffee like a shield. “That is more than I needed to know.”
His mother rolled her eyes. “How do you think you were made?”
He set his coffee down and covered his ears. “I'm not listening.”
His mom laughed and swiped at his hands. Ben obligingly uncovered his ears.
“Fine,” she chuckled. “I'll stop.”
He took a sip of coffee and settled back into his chair. “Rey would never forgive me if I made that decision for her.”
“Just go slow. Please. You've only been back two days, nothing needs to be rushed.”
He sighed. He knew where his mother was coming from, had had these thoughts himself. Had fought them to give Rey the agency she needed. Deserved.
“Your concerns are noted,” he said softly, covering his mother’s hand with his own. It was the best he could do, and he thought his mother understood because she nodded and flipped her hand to squeeze his with a soft, “Thank you.”
After that, his mom chose to hound him about his immediate plans and goals. She was not particularly happy that he didn’t intend to find work or an apartment until he knew exactly where he stood with Rey and whether he’d be following her to college.
“I offered to stay in a hotel,” he reminded her, and his mother rolled her eyes.
“I should make you,” she grumbled.
He shrugged. She could. Nobody was stopping her. But she just huffed and drank her coffee.
When Rey returned, Ben was rinsing out his mug. His mom had migrated to the living room, and his dad was pouring a second cup.
“Hey, kiddo,” Han said, stopping to greet to Rey. “Good session?”
Ben suppressed a smile as he put his mug in the dishwasher. Of course Han would ask Rey the same thing he always asked Ben after sessions.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Coffee?” Ben offered, trying to interpret her mood.
“Yeah,” she said, approaching. “Thanks.”
His dad looked between the two of them and then awkwardly left the room.
Ben poured coffee for Rey but didn’t move from in front of it, looking down at her instead. She seemed pensive. Maybe sad. He traced his knuckles down her cheek and along her jaw, wishing he could fix whatever was bothering her.
She looked up at him with limpid hazel eyes. “We should talk.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Outside?”
He nodded again and moved from the counter, letting her doctor her drink. He stood back and watched, then decided he didn’t want to hover and went out back to wait on the bench swing. He wished he’d kept his mug for something to do with his hands.
Rey joined him after a minute, sitting gingerly on the other end of the bench. She clutched her mug between her hands and took a deep breath. “Next Wednesday.”
He raised a brow and waited for her to explain.
“I want to have sex next Wednesday.” She slid a nervous glance at him.
“Oh,” he said, eyes wide. He swallowed. “Okay.”
She nodded and looked back at her mug. “It meets your criteria and gives us time to find a, um, hotel.”
He nodded, his chest tight with sudden nerves. “Okay.”
“I can tell Leia that I’m staying with Lusica,” she added.
Ben frowned. “Why?”
She blinked at him. “So your parents won't find out.”
He raised a brow at her. “We can just tell them the truth.”
Rey's eyes went wide. “But then they'll know.”
Her squeamishness amused him, but he didn’t think laughing would go over well just then. He couldn’t keep the smile out of his eyes, but he kept it (mostly) off his mouth. “It'll be obvious when we’re both gone all night.”
“We'll just come back before they wake up. Or you will. I guess I'll still be ‘at Lusica's.’”
“Rey,” he sighed. “I don't want to start this with subterfuge. For one, it sounds exhausting. And there's no need for it.”
Rey chewed on her bottom lip. “But they'll know,” she said in a small voice. “They'll know what we're doing.”
He shrugged gently, hoping his nonchalance would ease her fears. “It's not like they'll be picturing it.” He took her hand, her palm warm from holding her mug, and gazed into her worried face. “They won't care, sweetheart. And if they do, it's none of their damn business.”
Rey pressed her lips together, her brows furrowed. “I don’t want to disappoint them.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, trying to reassure her. “You’re not disappointing anyone. And if it makes you feel any better, I’m not exactly looking forward to my parents knowing I’ll be defiling their favorite girl.”
She groaned miserably. “Oh God.”
Ben’s lips twitched up. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
She rolled her eyes, her cheeks rosy. “Fuck you, Solo.”
He couldn’t help grinning at her half-hearted insult. “That is the point, yes.”
Rey slipped her hand from his to scrub it over her face, but he was pleased to see she was laughing. When she sobered, she sighed. “It’s good that you stopped last night.” She sent him a glance and grimaced as if she hated admitting it. “Dr. Morehouse thinks it’s a good idea to talk about sex first, especially with all the other baggage between us. She said we should discuss what we want from it and what we expect.”
Ben nodded, watching her carefully and waiting. He always came away from therapy with a lot to think about, and he could tell Rey had, as well.
“I think I figured out why your explanation bothered me last night. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was… it sounded like,” she corrected, and Ben recognized it for the I Feel statement it was, “you said no because you didn’t want me to. And that’s different from just saying no.” He frowned and filed that away to consider at length. When he didn’t respond, she went on. “It’s just that I didn’t feel like I had a voice before you left. You know? And I don’t want that to happen again. I’m not okay with that.”
He nodded. “You should have had a voice. That was me. My fault.” He looked at her, guilt thick in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, looking down into her coffee as if to brace herself. “I think trust is a problem for us.”
Ben’s brows came together, his instincts bucking the idea. He reined his reaction in and let himself consider her words honestly.
He supposed he could see it. He hadn’t trusted her before he left, and he supposed trust might still be an issue now. Finally, he stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankle. “Okay.”
She took a deep breath, her posture relaxing minimally. “Sometimes I feel like… you still don’t really trust me. An argument could be made that lack of trust is why you want to wait to have sex.”
He considered that.
He knew he hadn’t been wrong to put on the brakes — he wouldn’t have been comfortable so long as his concerns remained unresolved — but was a lack of trust why he’d been concerned in the first place?
He didn’t think so, but his judgment wasn’t always the best.
He decided to broach the idea with Dr. Statura.
“And then, on my side,” she said softly, “I don’t entirely trust you not to disappear again.” She turned her mug in her hands, her movements nervous. “And I worry that you’re just going to keep treating me like a kid. Like I’m younger and dumber.”
He nodded, watching her out of the corner of his eye, and she turned her face to his, expectant. He bit his lip. Was he supposed to respond now?
“If I treat you like a child in the future, I want you to tell me,” he said quietly. “I haven’t had many opportunities to develop social skills, and I can be a jackass, so you need to tell me when I’m out of line. I want to do better, but I’m going to fuck up sometimes. I need you to hold me accountable.”
She nodded. “I can do that.”
He nodded back at her. “I’m going to have to think about whether I trust you or not. I can’t say right now if there’s any merit to it. There may be. I’m going to consider it.” It didn’t feel like the right explanation, but he couldn’t claim to know all of his motivations. His brain still wasn’t the tidiest of places even after the year of soul searching. Tidier, certainly, but with plenty of messy corners.
Rey swallowed, her eyes too bright, and he leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. “I think the wisest course would actually be waiting longer than next Wednesday—”
Rey jerked back to stare at him. “What?!”
“—but I don’t want to,” he finished firmly. She watched him, and he ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek. She kept making him realize things he couldn’t have put into words even an hour ago. “I don’t want to wait a prudent amount of time. I’ve been prudent. I’ve been adult and responsible and reasonable, and I’m so fucking done with it all. I don’t want to wait. I want you.”
“Oh,” she whispered in a completely different voice, her hand coming up to lightly grasp his against her cheek.
“If you say you’re ready, I choose to believe you. I can’t second-guess you on your own fucking feelings, or this is never going to work. Yeah, I’m older, and I have a different perspective, but I have to trust you or… or you’ll leave me.” His eyes prickled unpleasantly, the words thick in his throat.
She wiped a stray tear from her cheek with her palm. He wanted her to say she’d never leave him, but all she said was a simple, “Okay.” Which told him nothing about what was going on in her head.
He leaned to kiss her forehead, needing the contact. “As for me leaving again, I think the only way to prove I won’t is by not doing it. And that’s just going to take time.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “But if you need reassurance, let me know. I’m terrible with words, but I’ll do my best.”
She nodded, wiping at another tear, and her lips quirked up. “I told Dr. Morehouse about how you make eloquent speeches comparing me to fire one minute and have your foot in your mouth up to the knee the next.”
Ben let out a surprised laugh. “Fair enough.”
She cast him a determined look. “I’m going to start insisting you explain yourself better. Dr. Morehouse agreed that part of the problem is how bad you are at explaining things, and the other part is that I don’t make you clarify anything until later.”
“You actually did insist I clarify yesterday. When you wanted to talk about public displays of affection.”
Her eyes widened, and she straightened her spine. “I guess I did. Huh.” She smiled at him. It wasn’t as strong as her usual smiles, but it was beautiful because hope teased around its edges. “Let’s do more of that.”
He smiled back. “Deal.”
“Okay, last thing. We have homework.” She dug a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket. “One is an online quiz, but this one is shorter.”
Ben moved closer, putting a hand on the bench seat behind her as he leaned in and read the top of the paper. Couples Therapy Questions. There were ten questions in large print and a stupid clipart to one side of a man and woman holding hands. “She used Comic Sans,” he muttered, disgusted.
Rey rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, you’re such a snob.”
He smiled and glanced at her. “I think you’ve said that exact thing before.”
She shrugged and smiled back at him. “You are a snob.”
He nodded agreeably. “I am.”
Rey smoothed the paper against her thigh, “Okay, the first question is ‘What do you think the biggest problems are in your relationship?’” She sent him a nervous glance. “I think… I think we’ve kind of covered those. Trust and communication. Unless you have something to add?”
He considered briefly. “Not off the top of my head.” When she continued to frown in concern, he added, “If something occurs to me later, I’ll let you know.”
They went through the rest of the questions a little faster. There was one about trust, which they skipped, and another about sexual satisfaction, which made Rey tilt her face up to his and ask, “Can we do more of that… other stuff? The sex-but-not-sex stuff?”
Ben swallowed and nodded, his heart thumping in his chest. He’d really really liked what they’d already done. “Sure.”
Rey worried her lip and frowned down at the paper. After a moment, she said, "I don't really see how sex is all that different from that stuff."
Technically, he supposed it wasn’t. None of what they’d done would have been acceptable to him even a few months ago. And yet. "It… isn't, I suppose. I think it's more like… like a right of passage. The other stuff doesn't feel as permanent. As… solemn."
She snorted. "You make it sound like we're going to make a blood sacrifice or something."
"We kind of are. Virgin sacrifice." He lifted two fingers. “Times two.”
Her brows drew together to consider that, and eventually she bent back over the paper without further comment. “‘Where do you see your relationship in five years?’” She glanced up at him and said, “You go first.”
Ben hesitated because he’d actually thought about this and had planned to keep it to himself until they’d cleared more of the air.
He didn’t want to scare her off.
But he nodded slowly and began. “You’ll be graduating in five years. Or graduated?” He glanced at her.
“Probably in a graduate program by then.”
He nodded, pleased. She knew her intellectual worth. He loved that about her. “Okay. Depending on what you choose, I’ll either be there with you or here waiting on you.”
Her brows rose.
He shrugged one shoulder, trying to exude nonchalance even though he desperately preferred one option to the other. “It’s up to you. It would be wise to take some time for yourself. I’d hate it, but I’ll respect whatever you decide. The other option is that I trail behind you and live in the same town, preferably in the same apartment. But, again, it’s up to you.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Okay.”
He clutched his hands together, nerves making his heart pound. He licked dry lips. “Okay. I’m just going to say it and get it out there. In five years, I want to be married to you. Living together. No kids.”
“No kids?” she asked, her voice more curious than upset, and it was not the response he’d expected.
He swallowed before looking at her. “I’m kind of afraid of being a bad parent. Given my own parents. And, you know. My temper.” He blinked and hurried to add, “But if you somehow got pregnant, I’d obviously stay at home with it while you went to school. Or we could get a nanny if I really suck at childcare. You won’t have to put your dreams on hold.”
She was quiet for a minute. “I understand being afraid of turning into your parents,” she said, voice soft but eyes fierce. “I’m not, though. I will never do what my parents did. Never. I’ll die first.”
He stared. Fire. It fit her so well.
“But,” she said, reining herself in, “there’s a problem with you staying home. If we don’t have any income, how will we pay for anything? Because I am not making your parents support us.”
Ben blinked at her. “That’s the second time you’ve acted like I don’t have any money. I’m honestly surprised nobody mentioned it before now.”
“Mentioned what?”
“I have a trust fund. It comes to me in full when I turn thirty, but until then I can take out money for food and rent and other essentials.” He smiled at her flabbergasted expression. “How do you think I lived abroad for a year without a job?”
Rey threw her hands up. “You goddamn rich people,” she said without heat.
Ben laughed.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But let’s take kids out of the equation for now.” She tipped her head to one side. “I’ve always thought I’d adopt, anyway.”
Ben blinked. That was an idea.
That was definitely an idea.
“There are a lot of kids, especially older kids, who want a home just as badly as I did.” She shrugged, eyes on the list in her lap. “I like the idea of giving that to them. Maybe even fostering.” She looked at him and blushed. “Not yet, though,” she said primly, her accent making the pronouncement particularly genteel. “I’m not remotely ready.”
“Definitely not yet,” he agreed. He watched her for a moment as she sipped her coffee. “So what about you? Where do you see us in five years?”
“Honestly, I was going to say ‘not fighting so much,’ but I think I like your idea better.” She laughed, but her glance was surprisingly serious. “You really want to marry me?”
“Down the road,” he said, heart thudding. “Yes.”
She bit her lip, adorably shy. “Okay.”
His heart flopped over, tripling its pace. He fought to keep his voice casual. “Does that mean you’ll say yes?”
She pursed her lips, her eyes smiling in an encouraging way. “It means I don’t hate the idea.”
Ben struggled not to grin, but some of it must have shown because Rey blushed. He fought for a neutral expression and looked at the paper. “Last question. ‘What do you love most about your partner?’”
The “most” got him. There were a lot of qualities he loved and admired about Rey. How could he pick just one?
She looked equally stumped, and he felt a self-conscious twinge. He didn’t have a lot of great qualities. Maybe she was having the opposite problem — maybe she couldn’t think of any.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you what I love about you before,” she said quietly, frowning as if the information surprised and troubled her. “You’ve told me… so much. But I don’t think I’ve said anything like that back to you.”
He considered. It didn’t matter too much to him if she hadn’t. It wasn’t something he needed. When he told her this, however, she waved the paper at him.
“This says it’s important. So.” She chewed on her bottom lip, frowning as she thought. “Okay, this is going to sound weird because you literally left the country to get away from me.”
Ben raised a sardonic brow at her but didn’t say anything. Wasn’t this supposed to be a compliment?
“Before that, you were always there for me. And it was platonic and everything, but you were there. And that meant a lot to me. You even did things you hated just to make me happy.”
Ben tilted his head, the weight of his actions settling on him all over again. “And then I left.”
She sighed wearily. “And then you left.” She shrugged. “Before that, though, when you were there, it meant a lot to me.”
Ben preferred brutal honesty to polite lies.
Guilt still sucked.
“Let’s make some new memories,” he said, standing abruptly and holding out a hand. “Ones that aren’t tainted.”
Rey stared at him, startled, before she put her hand in his with a smile. “Let’s.”
“At the car wash, when we talked books and you let me braid your hair.”
“Really?” Ben smiled and reached for a handhold, his longer arms letting him keep pace with Rey as they climbed the gym’s rock wall. He had more experience on it, but he was definitely out of practice, and Rey was showing an affinity for climbing that made him worry she’d beat him to the top.
“Really. Top five.”
He pushed himself higher, feeling the exertion throughout his body. He’d been in much better shape the last time he’d done this. “Interesting.”
“What about you? What’s one of your top five?”
“The first time I saw you laugh,” he said, arms starting to tremble. He had a lot more weight to hold up than Rey did.
He took more of his weight with his legs. If he fell off, she’d never let him live it down.
He pushed himself, determined to beat her to the top. Even if they hadn’t agreed that the winner would get a concession from the loser, he wouldn’t have held back. He knew without asking that she would be insulted if he did.
Ben groaned when Rey’s hand slapped the top of the wall a second before he could. She pulled herself up and sat, kicking her feet cheerfully as she waited for him to join her.
“So, what’s your prize?” he asked as they belayed back down.
Rey grinned. “I want to hear about your book.”
“Shit,” he laughed as their feet touched the mat. The gym employees unhooked them and removed their harnesses. Ben waited until they could find a spot to one side and sighed. “It’s horror.”
Rey laughed, tipping her head back in delight. “Of course it is. How many people die violent and painful deaths?”
A smile twitched his lips. “Almost everyone.”
She grinned. “Naturally.”
“The main character and the plucky young heroine both survive.”
“A happy ending? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“The main character is the killer.”
She snorted. “Oh. Yeah. That sounds like you.”
“They run away together,” he said, his mouth twisting with embarrassment. “He falls for her, and asks her to join him, and they ride off into the sunset.”
Rey gasped theatrically and grasped his forearm with both of her hands. “It is a happy ending! Ben, you’re getting soft in your old age.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, amused. He liked when she teased him. It meant she felt comfortable around him. “I am not that old.”
“You just let a novice school you on the rock wall. You’re ancient.”
He slipped a hand onto her hip and dipped his lips to her ear. “Find us a dark corner, and I’ll show you how ancient I am.”
She grinned up at him. “I thought you hated PDA.”
He let out a breath and released her. “That’s why I said a dark corner.” He cast a suspicious look around the room, making sure no one was watching them.
Everyone seemed to be minding their own business, and he found Rey smirking knowingly when he turned back to her. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “Let’s go find some food.”
“So I get to read your book, right?” Rey said over her bowl of pho.
“Not a chance,” Ben replied. “It’s embarrassingly bad.”
“How bad can it be? You’re always reading.”
He waved his chopsticks dismissively. “Being able to recognize good writing and being able to produce good writing are completely different skill sets. Complementary skills, yes, but different. I read enough to know exactly how bad my own work is.”
“So I don’t get to see it.” Rey tried not to sound too disappointed.
He set his chopsticks down and made a face. “If it really matters to you… I guess you can.”
Rey grinned at him. “I really want to.”
Ben just sighed grumpily and dug into his peanut noodles. “Fine. I’ll need your email to send it.”
When they got home, they said hi to Luke before Ben disappeared into the back of the house. Rey plopped onto the couch and answered a few texts, only half listening to Luke and Han talk about flight conditions for that weekend as she gave her friends vague but positive replies about yesterday’s date.
Ben returned and muttered, “You have an email. Do not tell anyone what you see.”
Rey grinned and crossed her heart. She wriggled down against the cushions, settling herself for an afternoon of reading on her phone, and Ben sat on the other end of the couch by her feet with a paperback and his glasses.
“Hey,” Rey said after the other men went to the kitchen to scrounge leftovers for a late lunch. She nudged Ben with her foot even though he’d already looked up. “What’s your number?”
He told her, and she put it in her phone. A minute later, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and she watched as he drew it out and checked the text she’d just sent.
Your glasses are cute.
He blinked a few times, blushed, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a bemused smile. He glanced her way, but didn’t meet her eye, finally settling on briefly squeezing her ankle.
She debated sending him something racier, but his dad and uncle were in the next room, Leia was upstairs, and Rey didn’t want to make things awkward for him. So she switched to the document he’d linked her and started to read.
Half an hour later, she could see why he wouldn’t be happy with it. It wasn’t bad, per se, but he wrote with the same stilted formality as his letters.
Still, it was better than anything she could have written, and she shot off a text telling him so.
He rolled his eyes with pink cheeks and texted her back, making her silence her phone so her Ta-dings wouldn't give them away.
I may have modeled the plucky heroine off of someone I know.
Rey smiled. She’d noticed that Anna had freckles and hazel eyes. Someone cute? she texted back.
Fucking adorable.
Rey smiled and wiggled further down on the couch, burying her toes against his thigh.
He casually ran his hand up and down the back of her calf, eyes still on his phone, and then nudged her feet onto his lap and used his free hand to idly massage her soles.
No one had ever rubbed her feet before, and Rey had always thought it would tickle, so she was taken by surprise when her entire body melted in response to his touch.
She got his next text with half-open eyes, just barely able to resist falling asleep. The words on her screen made her smile.
You know I love you, right?
She tilted her foot to brush her toes against his shirt. “I love you, too,” she said softly.
He nodded and set his phone aside to continue her foot massage with both hands.
Rey nearly purred as he pressed his thumbs into just the right spot. “I think I’ll keep you around,” she told him.
He tossed her an amused look. “I’m glad.”
She closed her eyes and sank into the comfort of his presence. “Me too.”
“You kids want to come to Wicket’s with us?”
Ben saw Rey looking pensively at him, and he was beyond relieved to be able to say, “You four go ahead. I actually… have plans.”
Rey’s brows rose.
“What plans?” his dad asked, laughing. “We’re the only people you know.”
Ben sighed, irritated. “You know how we agreed I’d tell you when you’re being a dick?”
Han rolled his eyes. “It’s a joke.”
Ben raised a brow at him, and his dad huffed and crossed his arms. But he shut up.
Progress.
“I just have something I need to take care of.” He grimaced. “I need to borrow a car, though.”
“You can borrow mine,” Rey said.
Ben nodded at her. “Thank you.”
He got out of the house with minimal effort and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as his phone spat out directions.
In some ways, he would prefer facing Wicket than the task ahead of him.
But it had to be done.
Ben parked in front of a small plain house that needed a fresh coat of paint. As he walked to the front door, he noted that the decorative bushes under the front windows needed to be cut back. The lawn looked like it had been mowed recently, though.
He knocked, and the door opened quickly to a tallish blonde boy with big brown eyes. Ben had been expected, so there was no surprise on the boy’s face, just the smallest touch of wariness.
Ben nodded stiffly, feeling awkward. “Thomas.”
Thomas nodded back, just as awkward.
They stood silently for a moment, then Thomas took a step back. “Care to come in?”
Ben accepted, noting that Thomas’ accent was pleasant and soothing the same way Rey’s was. He’d only known one other British kid, at Luke’s camp, and his accent had been grating.
Or maybe it had been his personality. He’d been an unapologetic prick. His parents had forced him to the camp, but he’d clearly had no intention of improving himself. Ben had shared a bunk with him, and it had been one of the things that had made him so angry and volatile and miserable back then.
But today wasn’t about the distant past. It wasn’t about Ben’s anger.
It was about regret.
Learning that Kaydel and Thomas were connected had prompted him to get in touch. He’d been planning to anyway, but he had prioritized Rey. Now, with their fragile truce, he could see to other responsibilities.
And this was high on the list.
“Would you like something to drink?” Thomas asked. A little girl with light brown hair was watching TV and tossed them a curious glance. The scent of cooking came from another room, accompanied by the small sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen.
“No, thank you.”
Thomas nodded and led Ben out a back door to a very small yard cluttered with toys. There were some cheap plastic lawn chairs to one side, and Thomas took one of those. Ben moved the other so he could face Thomas and sat, clasping his hands between his knees.
“I owe you an apology,” Ben said to his hands. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, fighting past his pride and tapping into the remorse he felt every time he thought about what he’d done to this boy. He might not have physically injured him, but he had betrayed a trust. “I was a chaperone. It was my job to protect you, and I did precisely the opposite.” He lifted his eyes resolutely to Thomas’s and set his chin. “I am ashamed of my behavior. On a professional level and a personal one. I’m very sorry for it.”
Thomas examined him for a moment with those big, serious brown eyes, then smiled. It was soft and wry, and it confused Ben. “No hard feelings,” the boy said, holding out his hand.
Ben shook it briefly.
Thomas sat back, expression open, and crossed his legs. “You know about Kaydel and I?”
Ben nodded.
“We met that night because of you.” Thomas tilted his head to one side. “We would have met anyway, what with Rey inviting everyone over so often, but I can’t regret meeting her earlier.” He threw Ben a chiding look. “I don’t like that you convinced Rey that your feelings were platonic when they weren’t. I wouldn’t have dared put myself in your crosshairs if I’d known the truth. Rey convinced me it was fine.”
Ben nodded, acknowledging his fault.
“But I do appreciate that you didn’t actually hurt me.” Thomas shifted and frowned, uncrossing his legs. “I understand now how easy it is to panic and feel threatened when your soulmate pays attention to a… potential rival.” He grimaced. “I’ve had to restrain myself from the urge to be quite rude at times.”
Ben laughed abruptly, rubbing a hand across his face. Quite rude? Was that the British version of enraged? “This would be so much easier if you were an asshole.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Thomas said with confidence. “You’d feel much more put out about having to apologize.”
“I wouldn’t bother apologizing at all,” Ben replied, running a hand through his hair and sitting back. The plastic creaked under him. These chairs were not quality furniture. He remembered Rey calling him a snob that morning and softened, suddenly eager to get back to her.
Thomas smiled as if he knew something Ben didn’t. “You would if Rey wanted you to,” he said softly. In a more normal tone, he added, “Though I don’t think Rey would be friends with an asshole in the first place.”
“She’s soulmates with one,” Ben said dryly.
Thomas watched him with a small frown, then shrugged. “I don’t know you well enough to say if that’s true or not.”
Ben laughed, unable to express his incredulity any other way. “How are you this nice? Shit.” He laughed again and ran his hand through his hair. Rey would genuinely have been better off with this kid. “Fuck.”
Thomas had a bemused smile on his face, and Ben shook his head at him, not needing any sort of reply. “I guess it makes sense, with Kaydel being your soulmate.” Thomas’s eyes warmed at her name, and Ben’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Right after Rey got hurt at her foster dad’s place, Kaydel went to see her. She wanted to make sure Rey was okay, check in, even though they barely knew each other.” He nodded to himself at the memory. “The list of people I genuinely like isn’t very long, but Kaydel’s on it.” He nodded again, glancing at Thomas. “She’s a good person. I guess it makes sense that you are, too.”
Thomas’s smile warmed further. “She’s amazing.”
Ben stood and held out his hand. “Here’s to having amazing soulmates.”
Thomas stood and took it, eyes crinkling in a grin. “Cheers.”
Ben put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat, standing awkwardly for a moment. “I’ll get out of your hair. I hope to see you around.” He inclined his head and corrected, “Both of you.”
“Kaydel said she saw you yesterday. I’m glad things are going well.”
Ben nodded, brows pulling together as he thought about all the progress they’d made — and all the work they still had to do. “We’ve been… talking. A lot.”
“I’m glad.”
Ben couldn’t hear any lie in Thomas’s voice, so he nodded his thanks. “It was good to see you, Thomas.”
Thomas nodded. “Thank you for coming. I appreciate it.”
Thomas followed Ben to the front door, and they nodded at each other one more time before Ben went to his car and drove away, finally relaxing and blowing out a breath.
That had been awkward.
But good.
It didn’t wipe away all of the discomfort he felt when he thought about the way he’d treated Thomas, but it eased his guilt. He’d been uncomfortable as fuck facing the kid, but he felt better for having apologized.
Now if only he could fix everything else as easily.
Rey checked her texts on the way home to find nothing from Ben but one from Lusica asking for more details about yesterday’s date.
Not much to tell, Rey lied. We went climbing today. I beat him to the top.
She answered inane details about the climbing until they got home and then perked up when she saw her car in the driveway.
Ben was home.
He’d left before they went to dinner, and she wondered how long his errand had taken. She’d texted him to ask what it was about, but he’d only texted back that he’d tell her later.
When she bounded into the house, Ben appeared from the back, perhaps from his room, and Rey stopped just inside the living room. She felt nervous suddenly, unwilling to throw herself into his arms the way her instincts wanted her to.
She considered and decided it was because of Han and Leia entering behind her. Public she could handle, but for some reason she felt awkward in front of h— Ben's parents.
They weren't hers. They felt like hers, but they were his.
They loved her, though. She reminded herself of that, forced aside the fear that they only loved her because of him. Hadn't Leia told her she was family even if things didn't work out with Ben? Hadn't they offered to adopt her? Helped her through her anger and hurt? Stayed even when she crashed The Falcon and attacked their son?
She'd been working all year with Dr. Morehouse on believing she was worthy of love. And part of that process had had to do with trust — trusting Han and Leia not to discard her if she didn't live up to expectations.
And trusting them when they told her that her worth to them was because of herself, not because of their son.
It took only a handful of seconds to recognize her fear and let it go. It wasn't gone permanently, it would come back, but when it did she would send it away again.
Rey took a slow, deep breath. That had been easier than usual. She knew it was Ben's presence, but she didn't know if he made her stronger or if it was as simple as his presence rendering many of her fears regarding Han and Leia moot. She no longer had to worry about their anger if he never came home, or who they would choose if he turned his back on her and forced them to take a side.
“So what was your big important errand?” she asked, walking forward as Ben’s parents hung their jackets up and Leia disappeared to place her keys and purse on the foyer table.
“I went to see Thomas,” he said, head ducked and hands in his pockets.
Oh.
Rey’s first reaction was pride, but she reminded herself that apologizing was something he was supposed to do and therefore not something he needed praise for. But Ben wasn’t the kind of person for whom apologizing came easily, so perhaps he deserved something.
“How did it go?” she asked softly, sitting on the couch.
He continued to stand and pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Good. It went well.” He paused, then tossed her a sardonic smile. “He’s a much nicer person than I am.”
Rey snorted a laugh. “He’s a nicer person than me, too.”
Ben sat, too far to touch. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You’re biased,” she replied, glancing up as Han flopped into his favorite chair and let out a happy sigh. She looked back at Ben, who was still watching his dad, and lowered her voice. “I’m glad you did that.”
He shot her an inscrutable look and shrugged. “I’m not exactly proud of how I handled things.”
“You mean shoving my prom date into a wall?”
She was teasing, but Ben winced, and Rey realized that he really did feel guilty.
She was surprised to find that she hadn’t thought he would. He had a way of admitting he was wrong that felt like he didn’t actually think he was wrong, and she’d just assumed that he didn’t regret as many of his actions as he claimed.
She shot a glance at Han. Leia joined them a moment later, leaning toward Ben and kissing his forehead.
Rey couldn’t broach the subject with them in the room.
Except that she could.
She got out her phone and tapped out a message: Do you actually feel bad for sidelining me last year, or do you just say that to placate me?
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. She watched the way his brows drew together, the frown that tugged at his mouth. He didn’t look angry, more… confused. Maybe hurt.
Shit. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.
She felt a flash of panic when he turned his phone screen off and stood, pocketing it.
“Where are you going?” Leia asked, raising a brow at him.
“Nowhere,” he said. “Back in a minute.”
Rey’s panic intensified as she heard the front door open and shut. When her phone notification sounded, she scrambled to check it.
I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to think. A moment later, another message. The lack of privacy is killing me. I wish I’d just stayed in a damn hotel in the first place.
The panic receded to be replaced by guilt. She ought to tell him that it was her fault he was staying with his parents and not in a nice hotel with a bed he could stretch out on. He’d once claimed that he ran on solitude, and he’d gotten very little of it over the past days.
She considered texting back and asking if he was angry with her but decided not to. She’d find out soon enough, and she refused to let her insecurities rule her.
Even though they did a very good job at trying.
“There’s no magic word,” Dr. Morehouse had once told her. “No fairy godmother to make all of your fears go away. It’s hard, patient work. Every time you stop yourself in the middle of a negative thought, every time you remind yourself that those thoughts aren’t rational, it will get a little bit easier. And, one day, you’ll be able to do it without thinking.”
Rey was used to hard work, and she was patient. She loved her therapy sessions because she always left Dr. Morehouse feeling like a life without fear was possible — strong and capable and ready to take on the world. The feeling always faded, but the fade had been getting slower of late.
It was an hour before Ben returned, his eyes going immediately to Rey. He glanced at his parents, watching something with explosions that Han had found, then jerked his head toward the kitchen.
Rey got up and joined him, letting him lead her into the back yard. The living room windows didn’t have a great view into the yard, not like the kitchen, and Leia kept the living room curtains closed most of the time anyway, but he still led her around the side of the house where the fence afforded them privacy and no one could see them from inside unless they went to peek out of Rey’s bedroom window.
He kissed her, firm and deep, then pulled back to take a breath and examine her eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I could have done differently back then. It’s hard to identify exactly what I should have done — not just what I did wrong but what would have had the best results. Back then, I wasn’t in any place to react rationally to… anything, really, but I’ve come to a few conclusions.
“At the very beginning, that first day, I thought I could just avoid you and that would be it. I didn’t want a sixteen-year-old soulmate, and I figured if we kept our distance everything would be fine.
“Which was stupid and naive. The moment I actually spoke to you to get those papers signed, I felt something. It wasn’t love or lust but just a pull, and I realized how impossible my first assessment was.
“I should have set boundaries right away, as soon as I knew I couldn’t stay away from you, but the point where things went really wrong was on your birthday.”
Rey raised a brow, her voice flat. “You’re just now figuring this out?”
He huffed, clearly unamused. “What I mean is, I should have sat down with you and explained why we couldn’t kiss. I should have explained everything. Up until then, I wasn’t really hurting anything—”
Anger flared, mingling with the ache of remembered pain. “I beg to differ.”
“Rey,” he sighed. “Please let me just get this out.”
Fine. She drew her resentment back into herself and nodded.
“Right then was when I really, actively hurt you. Before that point, it was your own worries, right?”
True enough. His hiding his feelings for her had made her worry, which had hurt, but he hadn’t done anything to reject her before the kiss on her birthday. He’d been nothing but kind, if frustratingly platonic. So she nodded again, arms folded.
“From the first, my instinct was to pull away. And, looking back, I kept trying to pull away from the bond. I never stopped. You gave into it, but I resisted. I fought it.”
She nodded again, slower, his words clicking into place with her memories. Such a simple way of describing what had happened; she was surprised she hadn’t thought of it before. He’d been fighting the natural desire to be close to her, and she’d been confused and hurt and insecure because she’d wanted to be close to him. With all of her heart, she’d wanted it.
“So when you kissed me, I panicked. It triggered all of my fear, all of it, and I ran. And I don’t know if I could have done anything but run, but I should have. And if I didn’t then, I should have after.” He took her hands and looked earnestly into her eyes. “When you came into my classroom to talk to me afterward, I was a dick. I was still trying to push you away, to push myself away. I was angry and frustrated and confused and… and scared, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry for that. It was wrong.”
Her eyes were wet and her nose burned, but she managed a shaky nod. She didn’t think she could have said it better or with nearly as much clarity. Her anger clouded things sometimes, made it hard to see underneath, but Ben managed to cut to the quick of it, to the reason she was angry. She felt relieved to realize that she had a good reason, that she wasn’t just being a petty bitch.
Ben squeezed her hands, his own eyes glinting as he gazed into hers. “I was a mess. I didn’t see anything going right if I told you the truth, but I should have trusted you anyway. I didn’t. And that was wrong. I was wrong. I did the wrong thing.” He frowned and huffed. “Things.”
Rey’s tears fell down her cheeks. She didn’t know whether to be stern or soft, and she suspected that her face betrayed a mix of both.
Ben looked at her hands in his. “There are a lot of things that could have made it easier on us. And a lot of things that could have made it harder. It’s hard for me to tell what would have helped and what would have hurt, but I know without a doubt that the kiss on your birthday was where I went wrong the most. If I could go back as the man I am now, I would sit down with you after that kiss and explain everything. Calmly, rationally. I would let you in. I would ignore my fear and choose to trust you.
“I wasn’t that man then. I wasn’t good enough for you. Maybe I’m still not.” He paused and took a deep, shaky breath. “But I am going to try. I’m going to try to be someone you deserve.” He gazed at her, his eyes shining with tears. “You are special. And wonderful. And far above me.”
Rey pretended to consider this, then gave a short nod. “Pretty much.”
They both laughed, the seriousness of the moment easing, and Ben let her hands go to wipe at his wet cheeks. Rey bit her lip up at him, remembering what he’d said when she’d apologized for hitting him.
It’s in the past.
She hadn’t understood how he could just let it go, but she remembered wanting to be more like him in that way. Able to let go of her hurts that easily.
She took a deep breath, gathering her precarious courage, and breathed, “I forgive you.” If part of her felt like it was a lie, she ignored it. Forgiveness was a choice, her choice, and nothing and no one was going to make this choice for her. If Ben wanted it, if her friends didn’t, it didn’t matter. This was hers alone.
Ben’s eyes snapped to hers, laser-focused, and she couldn’t tell if he was even breathing.
“For lying and hiding things and… and leaving. I forgive you.” Her heart fluttered tremulously in her chest, happy and worried and determined and hopeful all at once. “It still hurts — I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt anymore, but… I forgive you.”
His mouth pressed and trembled, his jaw shifted, and he nodded tightly. But it was his eyes that really gave him away; Rey saw the moment his caution shattered, exposing something desperately vulnerable to her.
She reached up and carefully drew his mouth down to hers. This kiss wasn’t about need or sex or even love.
It was absolution.
When they parted, Ben rested his forehead against hers and swallowed. “Will you come to my room again tonight?” he whispered, eyes searching hers as if he half expected her to refuse.
“Okay,” she whispered back, cheeks warming.
The kiss he pressed on her after that was tender, grateful. Reverent. She felt lighter, having said the words, and more determined than ever to work things out. The past wasn’t erased, but she chose to start letting it go. Not just for him. For herself. She didn’t want to be angry forever. She wanted to move forward until it became nothing more than a bad memory.
When the kiss ended, her head spun for a moment, and Ben’s hands went to her arms to steady her.
“Thank you,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes closed as tears leaked out.
Rey kissed his damp cheeks, and he buried his face in her neck, clutching her shoulders a little too hard. She ignored the discomfort and stroked his hair, seeking to calm his trembling.
When he finally released her, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
Rey tugged him toward the back of the house, murmuring, “I’ll send you that quiz Dr. Morehouse gave me. She said we fill it out separately.” She glanced around to make sure they were alone and leaned close to him to whisper, “It’s about sex.”
“Oh,” he said, brows rising. His eyes were a little red, enough that his parents would probably notice. He swallowed, and Rey wondered if he was thinking about next Wednesday. “Okay.”
She led him inside and kept hold of his hand as they entered the living room.
“You kids done making out?” Han asked, smirking at his own cleverness.
Rey flipped Han off the proper way, with two fingers, at the same time that Ben said, “Fuck off, Dad.”
Han only laughed.
Leia shook her head and threw a glance over her shoulder. “Language, sweetie. Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, I picked something up on my way home.”
Rey saw Leia’s eyes flick to their joined hands, but she didn’t say anything, just blinked and turned back to the TV. The room was lit by a single lamp, and Rey curled up against Ben on the couch, dragging a blanket over her legs and pulling out her phone. She found the website Dr. Morehouse had given her and filled in the required information before scanning the quiz instructions and proceeding to the questions.
Her eyes got large as she glanced through them, and she wiggled lower onto the couch, wishing she could coax Ben to touch her.
Instead, she lay her cheek on his arm, inhaled his warm scent, and wished Han and Leia would just go to bed already.
Ben felt off-balance and clingy, like someone had scoured his insides and left them raw and aching. He tried to hold himself back, not wanting to smother Rey with his neediness, but he needed to touch her, hold her, have a physical connection. He liked that she leaned against him without prompting, savored the easy intimacy after so much tension.
He knew they still had things to work out, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that forgiveness meant their problems would evaporate, but he was so profoundly grateful for the trust she’d put in him, humbled and overwhelmed by her capacity for compassion. His eyes kept welling up, though he managed to keep the tears mostly contained. He was used to crying in therapy, but it was strange having to hold back tears on his parents’ couch.
He would be worthy of her. Some day. Maybe he wasn’t what she deserved, but he was going to try. Every single day, he was going to try.
Rey went to her room before his parents went to bed, taking pieces of his heart with her, and Ben checked the email notification he’d gotten to occupy himself so he wouldn’t trail after her like a lost puppy.
It was a link to the sex quiz she’d mentioned. He sat up straighter, intrigued and pleasantly distracted.
The website gave him instructions which included the line, “Rey has already started the questionnaire and is looking forward to reviewing the results with you.”
Ben clicked to read the first handful of questions and thought, Oh. So that’s why she left the room.
He got up as casually as he could and left to shut himself in his room.
Every question had four possible answers: “no,” “we already do that,” “if my partner is interested,” and “yes!!” Ben would be amused by the exclamation points except that they made sense on the answers he liked.
He answered in the affirmative to everything he wanted and everything he was willing to try. Really, most of the answers appealed to him because the thought of doing them with Rey was more arousing than the acts themselves.
[Ben goes through the list in a bit of detail. His preferences are fairly vanilla.]
He hit no to some, and “if my partner is interested” on things he’d never have considered on his own but would be open to try at least once, just to see.
When he got to the questions at the bottom of the BDSM section, he sent a horrified text to Rey: Genital torture?! Seriously?!
His phone buzzed a minute later with her reply.
LOL. I said no on that one. I guess it’s a thing?
He shook his head, smiling. WHY is it a thing? That is my question.
What’s your favorite so far?
Ben shifted, his jeans too tight. It got to him, how the quiz used her name in all the questions instead of something more vague and clinical. It made him imagine doing those things specifically with her, not some faceless woman.
It seems I’m willing to try most things at least once, if they’re something you want. He bit his lip and added, Not genital torture, though. I love you, but… Jesus. Who does that?
LOL
He went back to the questionnaire.
The group section annoyed him. He hated the idea of sharing her, and she’d said she didn’t want to share him, either, so he felt comfortable answering no on everything.
For the public section, even though he liked the idea of fondling her in a theater or having sex with her in a car, he didn’t think he’d actually be comfortable with those things, so he wound up answering no to most of the questions.
He tapped the button to submit his results.
Done, he texted her, then clicked the results and perused them.
Why had he asked to put this off, again?
Right. His parents. And… other reasons? He couldn't quite remember the other reasons just then. They didn't seem terribly important.
A soft tapping on his door had him up and wrenching it open. Rey looked startled on the other side, and Ben supposed he must look a bit wild. He stepped back to let her in, closed and locked the door behind her, and spun her into a kiss. He poured every horny thought he'd had answering that damn quiz into the kiss, letting her know with lips and tongue and teeth how badly it had wound him up.
She kissed him back, hands in his hair, and then she pulled, hard, and Ben gasped into her mouth.
“You marked that you wanted more hair-pulling,” she murmured with a cheeky grin when he pulled back an inch to stare at her. Then she shrugged and blushed, releasing him. “I only glanced at the results. Want to go over them together.” She waved her phone at him, and he led her over to the bed. She was in one of his old shirts again and soft shorts beneath, her feet bare, and he sat up against his headboard and let Rey settle between his legs with her back to his chest and her phone in her hand. He tucked her under his chin and wrapped his arms around her.
This was perfect. Every needy instinct settled down and purred, delighted to have her in his arms. (If his happiness had a lecherous edge to it, well, it was Rey’s fault for sending him the damn quiz.)
Rey scrolled through their results, and Ben moved his chin to her shoulder so he could look, too.
[They go over the results, which only show the answers they matched on. Rey is slightly less vanilla than Ben but still quite vanilla. They’re discussing one of her mildly un-vanilla answers when Ben says:]
“It's highly preferable to genital torture.”
Rey tipped her head back and laughed. When she calmed, she rubbed at her eyes, still grinning. “What isn't?”
Ben felt a warm glow. They had an inside joke. It was nice. He'd never had one of those with anyone but family, and this one was just theirs. It wasn't like either of them were going to go talk to their friends about genital torture.
Well, he wasn't. He realized after a moment that Rey might have more than one person she could talk to about sex.
Trying not to let the little spurt of panic leak into his voice, he said, “You won't tell anyone about any of this, will you?”
She blinked at him, surprised. “No, of course not.”
He nodded and wrapped both arms around her waist. “Neither will I.” He hesitated, then added, “I don't want anyone else knowing what… what goes on between us.”
Rey nodded and touched his arms with her free hand. “Okay.”
Ben hugged her, grateful. “Thank you.”
They returned to the list, discussing their answers one by one as she threaded her fingers gently through his hair in a gesture he found incredibly soothing.
“I’m not seeing genital torture,” she said when they got to the end of the BDSM section, giving him a disapproving look. “Where’s our genital torture, Ben?”
He grinned against the black cotton covering her shoulder. “I must have misclicked.”
She huffed and shook her head, but he could see the laughter trying to turn the corners of her mouth up. “Must have.”
Ben got serious for a moment. “I’m not going to judge you for anything you ask for. You know that, right?”
She rubbed the tips of her fingers against his scalp. Her smile was soft. “I know.”
He wasn’t expecting her to laugh when she scrolled to the empty group section and then the empty public section.
“Wow,” she said. “That’s… huh.”
He hunched his shoulders slightly, worried. “Some of the public things sounded good on paper, but I don’t think I’d be comfortable with them.”
She turned her head to look at him and rubbed her fingers against his scalp again. “That’s fine.” Then, because he either had a terrible poker face (true) or because she simply knew him too well, she added, “You don’t have to feel bad about the things you don’t want to do.”
He relaxed slightly, still worried until she caught his lips with hers. She didn’t let him go until his brain was thoroughly muddled.
“No fetishes,” she noted. “Cool.”
“Did you have any?” he asked abruptly, nervous. “I said no to most of them, but if there’s something you really need we can talk about it.”
“Not a one,” she said, and she sounded certain enough to allay any guilt he might have had for denying her the chance to have sex covered in pie.
Perhaps he should have put “if my partner wants” on that one.
“And we’re done,” she announced, turning her phone’s screen off and taking her hand from his hair to set the device on the bedside table.
“Good,” he murmured, and the moment her phone was out of her hands he flipped her beneath him and kissed her. She opened her mouth, and he deepened the kiss, leaning on his elbows as he cupped her face and stroked her hair.
When he lifted his head, Rey’s eyes looked dazed, her lips pink and swollen. They were both breathing hard.
[They get up to sexual things. Once Rey is taken care of, Ben goes to get ready for bed (PJs, brush teeth).]
When he returned, Rey was curled on her side with her eyes closed. She opened them sleepily as he approached, and he smiled and brushed her hair back from her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said, stretching with a little groan.
“Don't worry about it,” he murmured, enjoying the sight of her drowsy and sweet in his bed.
His childhood bed, yes, but at least his mother had bought solid color sheets to replace the rocket ship ones he used to have.
Small mercies.
He climbed over her to lie with his back to the wall and tugged Rey against his chest. She settled in against him but looked over her shoulder with a sleepy little frown. “We didn't take care of you yet.”
He kissed her nose. “I'm fine. Let's just sleep, okay?” He was happy to just hold her, satisfied that her needs had been met.
Her frown deepened like she didn't quite believe him. “Are you sure?”
“I'm sure, sweetheart.” He tucked her head under his chin. “Rest.”
[Middle-of-the-night sexual situation.]
He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her touch, how she didn’t have to do it, how he understood that she chose to, how he didn’t deserve it but loved her for it, how lucky he was to have her, how unworthy he was of her forgiveness and how grateful he was to receive it anyway. He wanted her to know that he was the luckiest man in the world to have her in his life, and even though the universe might have fucked their lives up by introducing them when it did, he would rather have her with all the pain and misery than live a day without her.
All of those thoughts were tangled together and stuffed into a single feeling, and the only words that felt anywhere near what he wanted to say fell out of his mouth. “I love you.”
Rey kissed his face. “I love you, too.”
She didn’t understand. She didn’t know what he was trying to say, what he couldn’t get his exhausted, endorphin-saturated brain to spit out.
Ah, well. He’d have years to find the words. For now, he could show her.
[More sexual situations.]
“I have a kink the quiz didn’t ask about.”
Ben’s brain stuttered, his chest constricting as his muscles seized in interest, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “Oh?”
She swallowed and nodded, raising her head to look at him. “You.”
The air left Ben’s chest in a rush, and he felt lightheaded again. “Me?”
She nodded.
[Continued sexual situations, then cuddles.]
“You’re my kink, too,” he whispered softly against her ear, lips pressing against the tender skin just below.
It wasn’t the first time he’d made her cry, but it was probably the nicest.
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