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English
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Part 1 of reylo one-shots
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The Sub!Ben Collection
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Published:
2020-05-12
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3,283
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1/1
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ghost heat

Summary:

“Ben knew that no matter what she said Rey was disappointed that he could never come, could never get out of his mind long enough to lose himself to his body the way she could. He could feel her quiet disappointment through their bond, her own pangs of failure, though it was his failure to control his mind that preempted him from taking that selfish pleasure. His favorite, deepest pleasure was pleasing her.”
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Ben and Rey are living happily in a little hut on a quiet forest planet, but Ben’s still plagued by old voices in his head when he lets his guard down. Although he wants desperately to let Rey feel the joy of giving him an orgasm, he just can’t let go. So when Rey tracks down an old Imperial ruin, he lets her fly them there on the Falcon, lets her restrain him on an interrogation table eerily like the one he’d captured her in long ago. And he lets her take him.

Notes:

Gorgeous moodboard (which I will be screaming about for the rest of my life) by darthdarcyy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Ben closed his eyes, flexed his hands, strained his forearms against the binders around his wrists. He let his head fall back against the interrogation table—so like the one he’d captured Rey in years before, when he still had an excuse for the sound of Snoke’s voice in his head, reminding him of his constant failures, of the shame he deserved to feel for being so drawn to Rey. Now Snoke was dead, and he had no excuse, no explanation for that voice. The truth was that the voice was his own now, that shame spoken so deeply into his being that he no longer needed a living master to remind him of it.

Outside the room he heard Rey’s screams, fucking feral, echoing through the halls of this metal ruin of an Imperial ship. She’d been at it for what felt like hours, leaving him here bound, restless and impatient, alone with his shame and guilt and need. And though this had been his idea it still hurt. This ship, this table, these binders were all too close to his past, stark reminders that made fresh old mindsets he’d worked hard to bury.

But he hadn’t succeeded in burying them at all, had he? He’d failed at that, as he had at so many things. He found ways to show Rey he loved her, or he did his best to. He brought meals to her while she tinkered on broken-down machines she found on their quiet forest planet, kept their little hut as neat as he could. Physically he pleased her as well as he could, licked her and stroked her until she came, over and over again, until she was too delirious with pleasure to talk. And then he washed her lithe, hard-working body, put her to bed, curled her body safe into his.

He fucked her when she asked him to, because she liked it. But he knew that no matter what she said she was disappointed that he could never come, could never get out of his mind long enough to lose himself to his body the way she could. He could feel her quiet disappointment through their bond, her own pangs of failure, though it was his failure to control his mind that preempted him from taking that selfish pleasure. His favorite, deepest pleasure was pleasing her.

When Rey put her warm mouth or her deft hands on him in ways he couldn’t let himself love, he found himself pushing her away. He tried to enjoy it, but every time he was overcome—Snoke’s voice in his head calling him foolish boy, reminding him what a ridiculous notion it was that someone so light could find joy in doing something so impure, for him. And deeper, wordless, was a consuming void of shame that he’d been so drawn to her in the first place, that he’d failed even to maintain his darkness, when he’d already failed so spectacularly at holding the light.

Perhaps he would always belong to Snoke, to that mocking voice in his head. Except the part of him that belonged to Rey. Even if he couldn’t lose himself in his own pleasure he could always lose himself in hers. He hoped that today he wouldn’t fail her. He hoped these reminders could free him if only just briefly enough to give her this one last gift. Just one orgasm, such a small thing, supposed to give them joy and pleasure and contentedness. The halls were quiet now, Rey’s vicious yelling faded. He felt restless again, pulled against the binders.

She’d left him in this room without a word, with barely a glance except to check that he was contained. She’d closed her end of the bond off from him when she walked out, and he worried that she was frustrated, angry that these were the lengths she had to go to to have even a somewhat normal sexual experience with him. Flying all the way out to this shit planet on the Falcon, hunting down an abandoned Imperial ship that had all the equipment they needed—mainly this interrogation table. She’d brought a bag of other things he’d been either too afraid or ashamed to ask about.

Then he heard heavy footsteps down the hall outside this room and the thick door clanging open behind him, and felt waves of smug darkness Rey let flow through the bond. She stepped around in front of him, and he took in a black, close-fitting uniform, Imperial or some near copy. He wondered if she’d found it in some room on this ship or if she’d brought it with her. Her lightsaber was clipped onto her belt, and he could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead, smell its freshness when her body moved close to him.

She crouched down in front of him, forearms on her knees, and he lifted his head up off the interrogation table to look down at her. She looked small, should’ve looked powerless from her position below him, but the smug way she looked up at him, the way she forced him to rearrange himself to look down at her, reminding him of his constraints, was anything but powerless.

She said, “Well, Ben, have I left you long enough to stew in your head?” And his face heated, his jaw clenched. She kept that bastard smirk on her face, but her eyes were intense, assessing his reaction, and he felt a gentle reassurance through the bond. He felt her pleasure too, her enjoyment in her power over him, and that more than anything was his reassurance that this was good.

She said, “Tell me, Ben—is Snoke in there with you today?” He looked away, nodded. Her voice was a little raw from her screaming.

She said, “Tell me.” And he forced his mouth to open, said, softly, “Yes.”

She stood, rolled her shoulders, her neck, stretching and loosening her body in front of him. She put her hands on the table on either side of his shoulders, leaned into him, up in his face, or as close as she could get, with his greater height exaggerated even further by the narrow platform he stood on at the base of the table.

She said, “Look at me, Ben.” Took his jaw tight in her hand. She said, “Snoke has no place here now. He’s dead. You killed him.”

She said, “Tell me.”

He said, “I did.”

“You what?”

Ben looked at the wall above her head, and she jerked his jaw to force his gaze back down to hers. He said, “I killed him.”

Her hand slid down to his throat, and he felt her animalistic possessiveness overwhelm their bond. She said, “Today you are mine. Tell me.”

He said, “I am,” and her hand tightened on his throat just so, chin lifted, eyebrow raised. He said, “I’m yours.”

She pressed lightly on his throat as she straightened up. “Yes. Mine. And I’ll do whatever I want with you.” Her gaze followed her fingertip tracing down his chest, her mouth open, and Ben’s exhale was harsh in his nose. She looked back up into his face when she heard it and smirked. “Whatever it pleases me to do.”

She stepped back into him, grasped the loose collar of his thin shirt, pressed an open-mouthed kiss at his collarbone. Her mouth moved down to his chest, the muscle just under his collarbone, until his shirt restricted her access to his skin. She growled, took something small, metal, from a pocket, and cut his collar, tore the shirt down his chest.

She tossed the knife to the floor, where it clattered into a corner, her mouth already nuzzling back at his chest. Her fingers gripped at his ribs, and she nosed the torn edge of the shirt over his arm, turned her head to lick at the sweat that dripped down under his arm, to bite hard at the top of his pectoral muscle. Ben jerked, his wrists straining at the binders.

Rey slid the tip of her nose up his throat, under his hair. Her torso pressed against his half-hard cock, restrained in his trousers, and he felt himself grow harder against her as she breathed hot over his neck, his ear. She licked him, and she let her pleasure at the taste of his skin pulse through the bond.

She opened her mouth wide to bite at his neck, and he cut off a whimper, embarrassed, when she sucked hard. But she let out a soft moan in return, pressed strokes of reassurance over his mind through the bond and over his body with her hands at his chest.

Her face in his shoulder, she moved her hands to his trousers, distracting him with little kisses and bites at his collarbone, his jaw. Then her hands were on his cock, stroking his skin lightly, fingers straying to play across his abdomen, his hips, on either side. She scratched her nails through the coarse hair there, moved one hand lower to clutch at his balls. And all the while she moved her mouth on his torso, licking and nibbling at his skin, allowing no moments of stillness.

Rey pulled his trousers down over his hips, let them catch around his knees—his legs were bound at the ankle anyway. She fumbled with something on the side of the table, and it tilted down to lay him flat. Smug again she said, “Aren’t I clever?” and he turned his head as far as he could to watch her strip off the dark uniform. She tossed the boots to the floor; she was naked under the jacket, the fitted pants. And then she was climbing up onto the table over him.

She crawled up his body to straddle his waist, her hands braced by his head, and she lowered herself to kiss him full on the mouth, now that she could reach his face. She touched nothing but his lips, her torso hovering above his, and as she licked into his mouth Ben felt his hips thrust up, chasing her, the pressure of her against him. She smirked, bit his lower lip, tugged on it with her teeth.

She braced her forearms under his head, kissed him again, sliding her lips open over his and pressing her mouth hard enough against his to bruise. He felt one hand slip down his body, pausing on his belly, centimeters from the head of his dick. His hips rutted up again, his wrists and heels pressing hard into the table, and he felt her smile against his mouth.

Her nails grazed back up his chest and he let himself whine, let himself protest, beg a little bit through the bond. He had wanted her there and he wanted her to know it. She took his face in her hands and whispered, “Stay with me.”

He said, “I’m here.” If his hands were free he would have held her tight to his chest then, but they weren’t, and already she was moving down his body, her face pressing into his skin. She slid her nose down his ribs, left bitemarks there and further down, above his hip.

Kneeling between his knees she pressed her hands flat over his hips and bit hard at the inside of his thigh, just where the hair began to thin. He gasped; her fingers tightened at his hips to hold him down. She nosed at the crease at the top of his thigh, nipped at the tendon there, and he jerked, squeezed his knees around her hips as much as the bindings would allow.

She ghosted a breath over his balls, licked lightly at the seam there, up to the base of his cock. Ben inhaled hard and his breath caught in his chest when she sucked his balls into her mouth. He felt her hum around them, felt one of her hands shift to grip his forearm above the binder. He flexed his abs, his neck to look down at her, watched her ass press up into the air as she slid her mouth up his cock. His head fell back against the table as she flattened her tongue over the tip of him.

She took his dick slowly into her mouth, sending waves of her enjoyment through the bond. But with his head back, his eyes falling closed, Ben felt his attention slipping away from him. He thought of the view of Rey’s ass pressed up, her face below his cock; he remembered what she’d said to him, what she’d asked him to say, that he was hers, this time.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists, trying to close himself off a bit from the bond. The voice in his head should’ve been Rey’s, but as always before it was Snoke’s: You can’t even focus now, see? Pathetic creature. Thinking of dead evils with this pretty thing on your dick. Who are you to think you could deserve her?

Rey must’ve felt his mind drifting. Her nails dug into his thighs, and with her lips over her teeth she bit down on his dick. Ben’s eyes flashed open, and he looked down to see Rey letting his dick fall from her mouth, looking up at him to growl, a feral creature. She bit his hipbone and he flinched.

Roughly she said, “Whose are you, Ben? Where are you?”

And he breathed deep, said, “I’m yours. I’m here.” She stared hard into his face, then shifted her attention back down, took his dick full in her mouth, as far as she could. Through the bond he heard Stay with me. Stay here, Ben. Rey’s voice. He replayed it over and over—stay with me stay with me stay with me—until she had sucked him red and swollen and whimpering.

And he did stay with her, his attention so fully in his body that he thought of nothing but her voice in his head and her hot mouth on his dick, until he felt her crawling back up his body to press sloppy kisses to his open mouth.

Rey’s voice in his head: so good you are so good—stay stay stay.

And in his ear she spoke, “Stay with me. Watch me.”

She straightened to kneel, her knees spread wide on either side of his chest, tucked under his arms. Rey looked down her body at him, held his gaze while she slid a hand up her thigh. Still restrained in the binders Ben was helpless to touch her, but he inched himself downward till he could bend his knees and press up on his elbows.

Now her hips hovered inches from his chest, and he watched close as she dipped two fingers into her cunt, slid them up to spread her labia, showing him her swollen clit. She circled it with those fingers, her breath coming hard, her eyes holding his until she stroked once across her clit and her head fell back. She stroked over it again, her back arching, and then she looked back down at him. She pressed a knee to his chest, forcing him to lie back on the table, and said, “Watch.”

She leaned back on his bent knees as she touched herself again, teasing herself a little, her mouth falling open. Ben lay mesmerized, his arms pressing against her legs, his thighs supporting her, the only ways he could touch her. She thrummed her fingers faster, bent over him to thrust them inside herself, her other hand on his chest.

She clutched at his shoulder, pressed her mouth open against his forehead, her spine arched, as her orgasm hit her, and his moan matched hers as she gushed over his chest. Her breath huffed out into his hair as she rubbed little aftershocks out of her clit with the heel of her palm.

Then she sat back against his knees, watched her hands slide slick over his chest. Her jaw set, she straightened, brought her hips forward, and rubbed her cunt down over his chest, from his sternum to the head of his dick, marking him with her slick.

She pressed the fingers of one hand into his mouth as she took his cock inside her, and he sucked hard at the taste of her on them. She let that hand float to clutch wet at his throat as she slid down onto him. And against his mouth she whispered stay stay stay, in time with her hips moving over him, his dick sliding thick into her.

Through the bond Ben could feel her pleasure spike each time she took him full inside her, and he began to thrust up his hips to meet hers. Rey was writhing above him, her little tits sliding in her own slick on his chest, and he bit hard at her shoulder, wishing he could hold her hips so he could fuck her deep, the way he knew she wanted now.

He didn’t know if it was against her rules to use the Force, but after seconds of hesitation he did it anyway, freezing her torso above him, leaving her arms free. He fucked her hard, reckless, lost in the spike and rise of her pleasure. And when he felt her cunt clench down on him, her voice keening high and breathless in his ear, her fingers clutching at his throat, his own body chased her peak—his cock slammed deep into her and his breath caught and his body shuddering and shuddering and emptying.

He released his hold on her torso, and she fell to his chest. His cock pulsed inside her at the movement, and he lay there breathing, enjoying the weight of her, the deep satisfaction of emptiness, of the knowledge that his cum was deep inside her.

After she’d caught her breath she sat up slowly, and her gaze on his, she slowly slid up off his dick. He watched his cum drip slowly out of her cunt and onto his belly, watched her spread her hands through it, mixing them together. She slid her hands up his torso, slowly pressing her chest back down against his, and looking up into his face she slipped her tits back and forth through their slick. She kissed him deep and slow as she did it.

She whispered her love against his mouth, and when she sat back up she released the binders at his wrists, slipped off the table to release his ankles. He sat up too, swung his legs over to hang off the side of the table, and stretched his back and arms while she dug through the bag she’d brought. She wrapped him in a long, soft robe, gathered their things into her bag, led him silently by the hand through the empty echoing halls back to the Falcon.

On the quiet walk he asked what she’d been doing while she left him bound up in that room—about her screams. She said she’d been practicing forms the way she’d seen him do, channeling his old rage into an energy she could control, redirect.

He let her perch him on a low stool in the Falcon’s fresher, let her wash him the way he liked to do for her, let her dress him in soft loose clothes and tuck him into their bed, his head on her chest. The contented joy that pulsed from her through the bond mirrored the sweetness he felt in himself when he soothed her tired body after sex.

And as he felt himself falling deep into sleep he murmured, “I’m here, Rey. I’m with you.”

Notes:

Title from the poem "salvage," by Rachel McKibbens

Thank you for putting up with more bullshit from me musing about the inherent selfishness of sexuality under the guise of porn.

If you liked this, you might also like this other feelsy canonverse smutty one-shot I did: Ode on Filth

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