Archive of Our Own ^beta

‘You can gouge away if you want to’. Ben murmurs. His breath is hot against the cold steel of the knife, pressed against his neck. This was one of his and Ren’s favourite games. Sometimes spanking, choking, and bruising him in various ways didn’t cut it the way Knife Play did. 

Ben had read a psychology report once, from some WebMD knockoff site.  Whether it was true or not, scientifically accurate it didn’t matter because it certainly ran true for him. The first coping mechanism a child discovers will still be their first port in a storm during adulthood. For some that’s alcohol, vaguely he remembers the hushed tones his parents took when talking of his grandfather. Anakin always loved a drop of the drink. For Leia it was burrowing herself in work until breathing almost became a second thought, for Han it was race cars and floozies, running away from everything that made him hurt. But for Ben? 

For Ben, it had always been cutting. The first time had been an accident. He had come home from school early, Nanny wasn’t there yet given she only worked between 3 pm and 5 pm. So little Ben was alone and found himself hankering for a sandwich to soothe away the pain of his school day (another future port in the storm). Only he dropped the plate, sharp shards of glass spilling all over his Mother’s expensive black and white mosaic tiles. He could hear his Mother’s voice in his head. ‘Careful Benny, glass is sharp’. Best to clean it before his mother and the nanny came home. He grasped the glass tightly, blood spilling out of his chubby ten-year-old hand. 

‘Ben, Benny, Benjamin’ . Ren called, snapping his fingers in front of Ben’s face. ‘You’re not dissociating during sex again, are you? It’s fucking rude you know - I mean I don’t particularly care but I do like to see your pretty little wide eyes when I cut you. Not some disinterested corpse!’. 

Ben refocused his gaze on Ren’s holy fingers, grasping the black handle of the blade. ‘Yeah, sorry’. It was true that Ren didn’t care, there had been a couple of occasions where he had to drive him to A&E. But then again neither of them particularly had many boundaries or even a safe word. All they had were each other and Ben’s fucked up feelings. 

Ben and his shoulders, tense after the weekly Sunday dinner with his parents. Pushing open the front door, and dropping his bags in the hallway. His Skin on fire like he was trapped inside himself. Calling out Ren’s name like he was pleading for God’s mercy. ‘Ren? Ren, I need you’. 

And there he was. Appearing from almost nowhere like Jesus rising from his tomb. ‘I know baby boy, I know’. He whispered, wrapping his large arms around his boyfriend. ‘I know what you need’. 

His boyfriend always knew what he needed. Ren was good like that. 

He had lowered the Knife from his neck, instead pushing up the black sleeves of his jumper. He made small nicks along Ben’s gangly arms, like fresh blood on crisp white snow. This was Ren’s sick little joke. Ben was sober, honest, hand-to-God honest. He hadn’t cut himself in years. But this forced him back into long-sleeved tops, layers upon layers. This caused him to freeze whenever his Mother grasped his wrist tightly. ‘Are you sure you are eating enough?’ Or when his sister, Rey challenged him to an arm wrestle over the last bag of hot Doritos in the cupboard. 

Ren watched in silence, adding a few more cuts before setting the knife on the bedside table. He placed a hand on Ben’s stomach, feeling the soft gasps of relief that only he could give. It made him feel powerful, like some sort of God, having young Solo dependent on him like this, even if he didn’t particularly get off on the kink. But that’s what partners do, make sacrifices for each other. 

He enjoyed the clean-up more. The dazed look Ben gave him, sat on the closed toilet lid, wincing as Ren rubbed a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant on his arm. ‘That’s what hurts you?’, he let out a huff, ‘You should get your priorities, straight Kid’. 

Ben said nothing as Ren slowly pulled out plasters from different boxes, savouring the sound of paper ripping smoothly. Unicorn plaster on one cut, Hello Kitty on another. A long-neck dinosaur on another. ‘My sick, sweet baby girl’. Ren whispered into his ear. ‘Daddy’s gonna take care of you sweetheart’. 

This is what he loved. Carrying Ben in his arms, His face burrowed in his neck. How compliant he was after an episode. Ben sat on the bed like a life-size doll, letting Ren pull off his jumper, one arm at a time and then his head. Replacing them with soft fleece pyjamas. The same with his legs. Then they would curl up together under the bed’s thick winter duvet, Ren strategically placed his laptop so it wasn’t in danger of falling off if Ben fell asleep. He could already hear the opening to the Cinderella film on Disney Plus. 

‘Thank you, Daddy’. Ben said, his voice muffled due to his face pressing up against his pillow. 

'You’re welcome, Sweet Girl’. Ren answered, rolling over and placing his large hand over Ben’s stomach. 

The following days continued in a similar fashion. They didn’t engage in the kink enough for it to alarm him but enough to know that Ben boiled over like clockwork, at least once a month on average. So once a month or so, Ren took a back seat on all criminal activity. Instead, he cooked his boyfriend breakfast, poached eggs over some toast, and chocolate rock cereal in front of old scooby doo reruns. He made sure Ben cleaned his teeth, and he dressed him even. He took pleasure in it, his boyfriend-turned-doll wearing pretty pink and white jumpers, complete with a white skirt and fishnets. He’d watch as Ben played with all sorts of makeup in the rather expensive boudoir mirror he bought him for Christmas one year. On Ren’s part, he’d help paint his nails (black of course) and help him decide on what jewellery to wear.

Ben would then spend the day sitting on Ren’s lap as the Knights brought him their weekly tribute, like paying tithe to an emperor. It was a game almost to see who could win the Boss’s favour by pleasing his boyfriend with their stolen loot. Golden necklaces and various different kinds of rings were strewn across the coffee table in the centre of the living room, even a pair of keys to a decently expensive car (‘Vicrul jacked it! We’ve hid it with the others and changed the license plates already, got Maz out doing a paint job too Boss. You can sell it and nobody would know the difference!).

Like an unimpressed crow, Ben riffled through the stolen trinkets, it was an effort to lean down at such an awkward angle but he wouldn’t leave Ren’s lap for anything short of the rapture. Even then he trusted Ren to protect him from that too. Ren’s hands gripped the pale flesh of his thighs, and Ben’s skirt just about covered the man’s fingers. 

‘Well, Princess? See anything else you like?’. Ren cooed into his ear. 

Eventually Ben lifted a necklace, the gold appeared genuine to his eyes at least and the heart-shaped locket at the end was rather cute. He raised an eyebrow as he opened it, empty. These days the Knights had the better sense to tidy things up so to speak, it was never a good look when they stole from innocent old ladies or war veterans with only their puppy for company. 

‘Which sweet little old lady did you take this from?’. Ben asked although the question was almost rhetorical. Before the Knights could answer, Ren had them almost cowering from his gaze. ‘Get back out there and find something worthy for my boy to wear!’. He barked. Even yelling took on a strange almost romantic tone, Ren was an attack dog, going for the throat for someone he loved. He was Zesus turning himself into a bird so Hera would love him. 

And he was everything Ben had ever wanted. 

‘Or do I have to do everything for myself around here?’.

The Knights left the room almost as fast as cartoon characters disappeared into a puff of smoke. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better Benny’. ‘Whaddya Say we got met Snoke for dinner tonight?’. 

‘Can we get dessert?’. Ben asked although he already knew the answer. Ren would do almost anything for him. 

‘Don’t we always, Baby?’. Ren said, making a show of looking at his wrist and his non-existent watch. ‘I’d say we have about an hour before our pet idiots come back, why don’t you give Daddy some sugar?’. 

Ben wrapped his arms around Ren’s neck, holding onto him as his boyfriend carried him back upstairs and into the bedroom they shared. ‘My dumb baby boy, isn’t life so much better when Daddy does all the thinking for you?’.

Frankly Ben couldn’t agree more