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Fog creeps across Ben’s front lawn as the morning sun blinks over the horizon: another day is starting.
He sips his coffee as he watches the hazy blue light slowly turning golden white. Usually he’s up for the sunrise because he has nothing else to do nowadays. No booze, no cigarettes, none of his old friends. It’s just him alone in the old Solo family travel trailer about a mile out from the house.
But the sunrise is pretty. It shifts position through the trees and spills mottled shades of red and orange across the dewy grass, blooming into golden sunshine that gives Ben an aching sense of hope. It’s fragile and fleeting and for those brief peaceful minutes, that golden hope belongs to him.
—————
“Brought you some groceries so you don’t starve, but I’m not doing this forever.”
It’s midmorning, around eleven, and Leia’s stopped over with a couple bags of food. Ben stays on his small couch and watches her put away butter and eggs and maybe bacon—rations to keep him alive. This is a prison in and of itself.
He swallows. “You look nice. Going out?”
“Yes, going to the bank for another lawyer payment.” She straightens and raises an eyebrow. “And I see you couldn’t bother putting on pants this morning.”
“What’s the point?”
Leia shuts the fridge, moving on to her next task. She’s brisk and businesslike like always but it has an even sharper edge to it since the trial.
“You’re right,” she agrees, “since you’re a registered sex offender, you might as well dress like one. I’ll be sure to tell that to the sixty-thousand dollar lawyer I paid for who kept your ass out of jail. She’ll love it.”
Ben grits his teeth and storms off to the tiny bedroom. Death might be better than letting his mother hold shit over his head—like it’s his fault. Like he’s supposed to ID every woman in a bar. Like she didn’t look eighteen. He’s not a fucking predator.
Still, he wants to stay in someone’s good graces, so he changes into old cargo shorts and a band T-shirt. He brushes his shoulder-length black hair and his crooked teeth, then huffs on his way back to the kitchen. It does feel better to be dressed—but he won’t admit it.
Leia beams. “Much better! That says ‘please employ me so I can stop living like a hobo.’ Remember you need to go around the school if you’re going into town. The police know what the Falcon looks like.” She rolls her eyes, wadding up empty plastic bags. “It’s too hideous of a truck to miss.”
And Ben knows he’s too hideous to miss, what with being six three and built like a Clydesdale.
Leia tucks the empty bags under the sink. She’s so put together all the time. She always smells like fresh flowers and there’s never a hair out of place in her braids. Ben just inherited Han’s ability to get plastered and drive a car fast. Han’s charm passed down too, but most of it was gone after Ben smashed his head in his first DUI.
Mom cups Ben’s face in both hands and her sad smile makes him feel even worse. He’s done nothing but fuck up the past thirty years, and this is rock bottom.
“I love you,” she says. “I know you’re not a bad person.”
“I feel like one.”
“You’ll feel better when summer comes around. Sunshine and flowers and shit.” Leia kisses his forehead and turns. “I’m heading back. Laundry?”
Ben wanders back to his bedroom for the bag of dirty clothes. He has enough water for a toilet and shower and not much else, so mom picks his stuff up once a week. Han suggested he wash it in the creek.
She leaves. Ben hovers in the open door and squints across his ‘lawn’ to the cluster of trees on the far side that mark the road leading to his parents’ house. Leia’s Range Rover scatters dirt as it disappears up said road, leaving Ben alone in his trailer again.
Bees buzz past. He scratches his jaw and listens to the bugs humming and chirping, then withdraws. He crushes a wolf spider that skitters past his foot.
—————
Not many people recognize Ben in town, thank fuck. He can roll in crouched in the Falcon and avoid detection when he’s going to court-ordered therapy or buying chips or whatever. Everyone he went to high school with has mostly moved on.
He stays the hell away from the school and finds a spot on the street outside Dr. Willis’s office. The toll meter eats two dollars for an hour. It’s expensive now since the new mayor wants to spice up the downtown, where Ben used to set cardboard on fire and steal candy from the corner store with his friends.
Didn’t need to. Wasn’t poor. He just liked stealing.
The waiting area is nice and cool, that recycled air conditioner chill, and there’s a big potted plant in the corner. Fiddle-leaf fig, doc says. Ben puts his hands in his pockets and wanders over to inspect a bright green bud sprouting in a beam of sunshine. Neat.
“Come on in, Ben.”
He glances up. Doc is at her door for a second, motioning, and fixes her glasses before she’s gone. There’s new art on the walls he wanted to check out, but he settles for grabbing a bottle of water and following her into the office. Not a big place.
She sits in her chair with a lumbar pillow, wincing and clutching at her stomach. Baby number three.
“You okay?” Ben asks as he shuts the door.
“Yeah, I’m alright—just want this damn kid out of me.”
Doc adjusts the pillow and heaves a long sigh. Her blonde hair is piled in a messy bun with chopsticks on top of her head and she’s bundled up in something thick despite the heat. Her wedding band and engagement ring hang around her neck on a chain that conveniently gives Ben a peek of her tits.
He scowls and fixes his shorts. Gross. She’s pregnant and all… round. That’s gross.
“How was your week?” she asks. She takes a long drink from her water bottle. “Any interviews?”
“No. Didn’t do much.” Ben shifts again as a pulse of blood goes south. This happens every week, and every week he pretends it’s an accident. “Dad still hasn’t come to see me at all.”
“He just needs time. He’ll come around.”
Maybe. They haven’t spoken since the trial.
Doc offers some pointers for finding a job, which isn’t easy when his record pops up. Three years in prison and now on parole for good behavior—it should be a good thing, but it feels worse than a cell. There’s pressure to assimilate into a society that no longer wants him.
Ben scratches the back of his head, glancing toward the window. “I was thinking of trying to go out again. Dating and stuff.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
No. It isn’t. But he hasn’t fucked anything in three years.
Doc picks up on the change in mood like she always does. She smiles a little, kind of sad.
“Ben. You have a long way to go.”
“I’m fine. I made a mistake.”
“You exhibit disturbing patterns of behavior towards women, Ben.” She rubs her swollen belly while she talks and Ben pretends not to watch and pretends he isn’t getting hard. “You need to be in a better place emotionally before dating again.”
He grits his teeth. That old anger prickles along his scalp and he might punch a wall.
“I made one mistake,” he snaps. “I’ve never hurt a woman in my life, and I wouldn’t deliberately go after a teenager.”
“There are more ways than one to hurt someone. You harbor a lot of resentment towards your mother for what happened when you were a kid, and it spills over into the drinking and seeking out vulnerable—”
Ben jerks to his feet and leaves before she can finish the sentence. Doc doesn’t call after him or try to convince him to come back.
—————
“Ben? What are you doing?”
Mom and dad stand over him behind the couch. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but it feels good. Their stares tell him it’s bad and shame lances through him like a hot knife. This is bad.
He shrinks under the blanket. “I dunno.”
“Where did you learn that?” mom asks. They’re home early from dinner.
“I dunno.”
Han’s jaw shifts. He’s not prone to anger but something violent flickers in his eyes.
“Across the street?” he snaps. “That it?”
Ben wants to pull the pillow out from under him but he’s too terrified and embarrassed to move. He nods once—yes, their neighbor showed him—and Han heads for the door with his fists clenched.
Leia follows. “Han, you can’t go punch the neighbors for no good reason!”
“I’ve been meaning to punch that creepy son of a bitch for ages.” He yanks open the door. “He’s fucking around with my son, I’ll throttle him good before the cops get over here.”
Mom shouts after him but dad is gone. She turns and fixates Ben with an angry stare. It sears in his memory forever, and somehow he resents her for not going along with Han. Maybe he feels like she didn’t care to defend him, even though she always did and always has—but maybe in that moment, he saw weakness.
“Go to your room!” she snaps.
Ben pulls up his shorts and hurries upstairs to his bedroom to hide. Leia will come later to apologize and hug him, but the damage is done.
—————
Okay, so maybe he can tell she’s a little young.
Maybe it’s obvious in the way she wrings her hands and her stick-on eyelashes peel at the edges. Maybe it’s obvious in the way she looks up at him with this nervous awe, like he’s a god, like he’s something better than he can ever be.
She doesn’t know he’s a drunk with two tours in Iraq and two DUIs that followed. Her blue eyes glow in the bar while she listens to his stories and laughs at everything he says; she gasps and thinks he’s interesting, thinks he’s something. Something.
“How’s this? Feel good?”
Her small hands cling to the bathroom stall and she nods, panting, and he thinks she looks nice in her skirt, and he thinks she’s a fucking whore for letting him fuck her in public.
—————
It’s raining, but Ben doesn’t care. He finds a bench in the park under some trees and sits there alone, staring at the pond. It might be easier to jump in and hold his head underwater than face these questions with painful answers.
He watches the ducks paddling around until he’s soaked to the bone, black hair plastered to his head, and the urge to jump in gets stronger. Might as well. No one will even notice he’s gone.
“Haven’t you heard of umbrellas?”
A girl sits beside him at that moment, dressed in a yellow rain poncho with a hood and carrying a backpack. Ben hardly casts her a glance.
“Can I help you?” he asks dully.
“Nope, just stopping to eat my muffin. You looked like a sad wet puppy so I figured I’d sit here.”
Her accent is distinctly not American and on a second glance, Ben realizes she must be a teenager. Wispy brown hair sticks to her cheeks while she eats and spills crumbs down the front of her poncho, and she picks them up with nails caked in green polish.
He stares long enough for her to look up and stare back. She raises her eyebrows.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Sorry.”
The girl throws the crumbs to the ducks. She’s thin and her sneakers are dirty and torn—maybe she’s a runaway. Maybe he shouldn’t care.
“I’m Rey,” she offers.
“…Ben. Are you from around here?”
“No, I’m from Utah. I felt like I needed a change of pace, y’know?” Rey opens her backpack and rummages. “I’ll be eighteen soon, so leaving home a couple months early doesn’t matter.”
Ben glances around the empty park. It’s raining too heavily to see or hear much. Will he get in trouble for this—for another mistake?
He doesn’t walk away even though he knows he should. He watches her pull out two bags of fruit snacks and she hands one to him. Her knuckles are battered raw and covered in dirt.
“How did you get up here?” Ben asks, pocketing the bag.
“Hitchhiking, walking… I’ve been earning cash where I can for bus rides and stuff.” Rey shrugs, chewing with her mouth open and looking around the park. Her eyes are heavy. “I do a lot of cleaning. I’ve never stolen from anyone and I never will.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
“Yeah. Why are you sitting here alone? Did somebody dump you?”
He huffs. “No. It’s been a long day.”
Rey cackles while she eats her gummies and shakes her head. Her sneakers drag through the mud.
“That means somebody dumped you. It might’ve been the cargo shorts. They’re sort of heinous.”
“I’ve been to prison, y’know—and Iraq. Twice.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. Hazel. “My foster dad is in prison and went to Vietnam. I’m not scared to call out your bad fashion choices, dude.”
This kid is getting annoying. Ben gets to his feet and she swings her backpack up on the dry spot where he was sitting. Rey waves cheekily when he turns to look at her one more time. No way in hell is he calling the cops. They’ll think he wanted to fuck her.
She seems like she’s doing okay. Her poncho is the only splash of color in the dark downpour and she’s grinning from ear to ear. She’s fine. Nice girl.
But he knows all too well about what happens to nice girls.
Ben clenches his jaw; sticks his hands in his pockets. He’s far enough away that he has to raise his voice.
“You should be more careful!” he calls. “Strangers are dangerous!”
Rey shrugs. “I dunno—I think most people will eventually do the right thing. Don’t you?”
No. No, he doesn’t.
—————
It’s a short ride up to the abandoned old farmhouse where Snoke used to live. The shutters are falling off, the paint is peeling, and a big red X on the door says no one should be risking a walk inside.
Ben shuts the creaky truck door and brushes back his wet hair. He stands there for a minute and stares at the place, one arm resting on the roof of the Falcon.
The trees have grown in and ivy crawls up the left side—it has a creepy, haunted vibe. Snoke moved out after his prison sentence and no one bought the place. Too old. Too full of ghosts.
But the rain is letting up and the sun is coming out, illuminating all the big rocks on the old dirt driveway. Ben sniffles as he bends and picks one up, tosses it twice in his palm to test the weight. He cocks back with his old pitching arm and hurls the rock into the upstairs bedroom window.
It shatters with a satisfying downpour of glass—but Ben hears an odd sound follow it.
He frowns and jogs up the porch steps to the front door with the red X. It groans open and casts some dust and dirt but it’s the same as it was all those years ago. Ben coughs and heads for the old stairs and takes them two at a time like he used to; two at time with Snoke right behind him, breath on his neck.
He opens the bedroom door and nudges the rock with the tip of his shoe. It’s rolled from near the broken window with a trail of blood.
“Shit,” Ben mutters. He follows the trail and covers his mouth. “Shit!”
A cat nursing kittens lies dead where the rock struck her in the head. She doesn’t move while her four kittens continue nursing, babies just big enough to have their eyes open and their ears unfolded. They’re a squirming black and white mass.
Ben just stares at them for a while. Just stares.
—————
“Your parole officer comes tomorrow. Clean up a little bit.”
The kittens mewl in the basket Ben’s stashed them in. He’s driving toward town again to visit the pet store for food and whatever they need, since he killed their fucking mother. He cradles his phone on his shoulder and grunts along to Leia while nudging curious kittens back in the basket.
“I will,” he says, “but I gotta go. I’m driving.”
“Where?”
“Mom, Jesus fucking—”
A yellow poncho catches Ben’s eye. He hits the brakes and hangs up on his mother.
Rey glances up at the truck as he pulls it over on the side of the road. She waves when he steps out and Ben awkwardly waves back, hanging out of the door.
“Going somewhere?” she asks. Her eyebrows raise. “Yikes, isn’t this an old hunk of junk?”
“I have to get kitten shit. I—I found some and their mother’s dead. I think the shelter in town is a kill one, so I figured—”
“Ha! You want to help them?! You can’t even help yourself!” Rey sighs and shakes her head, heading for the other side of the truck. “I better come help so you don’t kill them by accident.”
Ben doesn’t argue. She throws her backpack in the back of the truck and beams when she slides in the passenger seat. The kittens chirp and paw at her hand as the truck growls back to life and heads off.
Rey leads the way into the store and carries the basket. She heads straight to the aisle with milk replacement and spends ten minutes comparing wet food before she’s satisfied. Ben hovers behind with his hands in his pockets, silently panicking about caring for such small kittens.
“I don’t think they really use a litter box yet,” Rey says, “but it’s never too early to train, right?”
“Maybe I should take them to the shelter. They can do a better job than I can.”
Rey pushes the basket of supplies into his arms and glares up at him.
“Don’t run away from your responsibilities, Ben. Be a man about it.”
Be a man about it—everyone always tells him to be a man about it. Ben scowls and grits his teeth but he isn’t going to argue with a runaway teenager in the middle of Petsmart. That’s a bad look.
They proceed to cash out and Rey pays the thirty dollars for all the supplies. His surprise must show because she smiles while she takes her change.
“I’m an adult,” she asserts. “I always have money on me. Don’t you?”
“…Some. I’m trying to find a new job.”
“Oh. I take whatever I can get.”
“Sometimes things are beneath you. Not worth doing.”
Rey picks up most of the bags on her skinny forearms, still supporting the basket. “I do whatever it takes to survive, and I always do my best. Then it’s never beneath me.”
They load the truck and drive back to the trailer—and Rey is strangely unperturbed by it. Ben looks around for his mother while he unlocks the door and lets her in, complete with mewling basket of orphan kittens.
She sets them on the table and takes off the poncho. Not much underneath, just more skin and bones under a baggy gray T-shirt with holes down the armpit. Rey pushes off her sneakers like she’s lived here her whole life.
“They just have to stay warm and fed,” she says. “They should be on kibble by now so wet food won’t be hard. This place doesn’t need kitten-proofing.”
Ben hangs by the door to watch her. She adds the milk to a bottle and each kitten greedily drinks, spilling half of it down their chin, then they tear into a can of food together. Hungry little bastards. Easy to forget they’re predators that eat meat.
Ben’s gaze traces up Rey’s long leg. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“There was a spot near the McDonald’s dumpster that looked nice.” She rests her chin in her palm and watches the kittens noisily chewing. “I’m moving on tomorrow morning to a bigger city with a shelter. This place is a shithole.”
“You can stay here if you want.”
She laughs, glancing his way. “I think I’ll take my chances with the dumpster.”
“What’s the big deal? You can take a shower at least—and these stupid things need you.”
Rey sighs and gives in because it seems like she needs the rest. She walks down to the small bathroom and Ben steps outside for a couple minutes to give her privacy, because he’s not the sicko everyone thinks he is, and he’s determined to prove it to himself.
Night is falling. Crickets are out chirping and cicadas buzz from the trees along with those tiny frogs in the creek—it’s a peaceful way to fall asleep. There’s no light out here on the fringe of the property, just the moon and the stars overhead, and nothing seems to mind Ben’s presence.
He stands on the steps and scans the gently swaying grass dappled in moonlight. It’s about up to his knees now. Leia will come by and warn him about ticks and foxes or wolves and Ben will pretend to listen. They could be there, lurking on the periphery along the dark edge of the treeline—but he’s not easy prey.
Back in the trailer, he finds Rey asleep in the bed in her gray T-shirt. It doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
He locks the door and strips out of his own wet clothes. The kittens are with Rey in the bed, curled up near her face, and the litter box is pushed in the corner where they can reach. On the bed.
“Great,” Ben grumbles. “Hope they’re comfortable.”
There isn’t much room for him, but he refuses to sleep on the floor. He changes into dry clothes and crawls to the other side of the bed, facing away from Rey toward the wall and trying to ignore the smell of her shampoo. It’s his shampoo.
He closes his eyes and drifts off.
—————
“Go fish.”
Morning’s come, and they’ve settled on cards and coffee while the sun rises. The kittens scamper around the trailer chasing each other, full from their own breakfast, and Rey fried eggs and bacon. It’s a taste of domesticity Ben’s never had.
He frowns. “Again? You sure you aren’t cheating?”
“Why would I cheat at Go Fish? Not like there’s money or clothes on the table. Your dignity is good enough for me.”
Ben rolls his eyes and tries not to linger on the thought of getting Rey out of her T-shirt and shorts. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of him, golden skin on display from her toes to her inner thighs, and he wouldn’t mind licking every square inch of her.
He scratches his head. “So you think people will do the right thing, huh?”
Rey nods and glances towards the kittens as they climb up a chair. Nothing escapes her notice.
“Yeah. I mean, some people are evil, like Hitler and serial killers, but I think your everyday average person will eventually do the right thing. People are selfish and misguided, but not evil.”
“Then why’d you run away?”
She calls a card right again. Her hair glows as the sun peers in through the window behind her and Ben stares for as long as he can get away with.
“My foster dad was evil,” Rey says simply.
“Oh… sorry.”
They lapse into silence for a while as Ben mulls that over. He’s seen plenty of evil people, from Snoke to his drill sergeant to men using children as shields, but Rey has too and she still sees a glimmer of hope. People can change. He can change. Right?
Their game ends and Rey puts on leggings from her backpack and drags Ben outside. She shoos the kittens back in and walks around the back of the trailer to the small creek behind, where crayfish and frogs hunt tiny minnows in the eddies. Leeches hang in the shady dark pools.
Rey hops to a rock in the middle with the lithe grace of a doe. She squats to look in the gurgling water, both feet clinging to the rock just like a frog’s.
“You should eat some of these crawfish,” she says.
“Crayfish?”
“Crawfish, Ben. Come on.” She shakes her head and laughs. “You don’t say it that way. Crayfish.”
“Yeah, and I don’t eat ‘em. They’re probably full of parasites and shit, which you’re gonna have if you touch anything in there.”
He watches from the bank with growing anxiety. She could slip and fall and smash her head open. What if she gets bit by a leech? They have to have diseases.
Rey ignores him. She stands and carries on up the creek, hopping from stone to stone like she’s done it her whole life, and he obediently follows with his hands in his pockets. The sun is up, dappling the water yellow and white through the leafy canopy. Water drips from Rey’s fingertips and toes and sparkles wherever she moves, leaving her dark wet footprints behind her.
Laughter peals across the water. “Check it out!”
Her bony feet are host to a couple small leeches drifting in the current. Ben flinches but she bends over and picks them off without hesitation to throw them back in the deeper water.
“You’re probably sick now!” Ben snaps.
“They’re just leeches.” Rey hops on the shoreline and casts him an irritated glance. “It’s none of your business, anyway.”
She carries on and doesn’t look back. Ben follows—since he has nothing better to do.
—————
The kittens are happy to see Rey and climb all over her for a while. Ben lays on his bed, feeling like there’s something he forgot about, and sneaks glances at his guest sitting on the floor. She could be eighteen, too. Could be. Pretty close.
A hard knock on the door reminds him: parole.
“Fuck!” he hisses. He grabs Rey by the arm and lifts the mattress. “Stay here and don’t say anything.” He shakes her once and her eyes widen. Satisfying. “I’m not going back to fucking jail.”
“But—”
His parole officer knocks again. Ben shoves Rey in the tight space and swears on his way to the door. The kittens scamper to their basket and hide.
Hux stands there with his notepad under his arm. He’s dressed up like usual and raises an eyebrow at Ben’s pajamas. Fuck. Should’ve remembered to change—maybe if he can stop staring at Rey.
His heart pounds as Hux enters. “Hey man. Long time.”
“Mm. I’m only here for a check, not a chat. As long as you haven’t molested anymore children or keep alcohol hidden somewhere, I’ll be gone soon.”
That was loud enough for Rey to hear. Ben winces and watches the bed, praying she doesn’t move.
He clears his throat as Hux checks the cabinets. “No, none of that. But that was because I made a mistake and she looked eighteen. And was in a bar.”
Hux squints at the kittens. “Good to see you’re not making progress in therapy. What are these for?”
“I found them. Abandoned.”
“…Ah. Interesting.” He opens the small fridge. “Any progress on finding a job?”
The visit is short as promised. Hux leaves without much of a goodbye and when his car rolls away, the bed immediately flips up. It’s the only hiding place no one knows about except Ben and Han.
Rey crouches under the mattress, hazel eyes wide—and Ben realizes she might be running away, and he realizes that he might not want to let her.
“What did you do?” she asks slowly.
“I was drunk at a bar and slept with some teenage girl. I had no idea. I don’t—I don’t ID everyone I have sex with, Rey. That would be stupid.”
She pulls herself from under the mattress and sits on it instead. Her head tilts, expression shifting from fear or confusion to curiosity and sympathy. Ben stays in the middle of the hall. He’s not blocking her. He’s not.
Rey furrows her brow. “Someone really hurt you, didn’t they?”
He stares at her. She’s some seventeen year old kid; he’s not admitting that or confiding that—
But he stills nods once.
She nods, too. “I can tell. You look very sad.”
“I’m not sad. I’m angry.”
“Yeah… I was angry, too, then you get too tired for it and all that’s left is lots of sadness. Resentment is a heavy burden to bear but you won’t let it go.”
Ben clenches his jaw and his fists and blinks back the tears burning in his throat. Crying is for women and children. He hasn’t cried in years and he isn’t starting now with this weird runaway teenage girl with her long tan legs and obnoxious optimism.
“You don’t know me,” he croaks.
“Yes I do. You’re just like I was three years ago.”
He rubs his eyes and cries, and sits heavily on the edge of the bed next to Rey. She doesn’t move. He rests his head on her shoulder and pushes further to her neck that smells like water and cotton, and figures he might as well grab her waist.
Ben drags her in like an undertow. He kisses her throat and promises that’s all he’ll do, until he kisses down her chest and pushes her T-shirt up over her head. Rey whispers at him to stop but there’s no one around to hear and Ben knows he isn’t a good enough man to do what she wants. Some people are evil.
He breathes in the scent of her hair and lies on top of her for a bit, feeling her heart pounding against his. Her skin is warm and soft and she’s so thin that he could break one of her arms clean in half.
“You’re so soft,” he mumbles. He tugs down her leggings to her knees and works down his sweatpants.
“You’re not a bad person—why are you trying so hard to be one?”
Ben grunts in her hair as he thrusts inside her warmth and Rey squirms underneath him, long legs writhing. He kisses her jaw and moves faster and harder and the tears dry up as he loses himself in something physical. Booze used to do the trick.
“Feel good?” he whispers. He kisses her temple, groaning quietly. “You feel so good.”
Rey digs her nails into her back. Now she’s crying and that gives Ben a sick sense of satisfaction.
He smooths the hair away from her face and cradles her head to his shoulder. His climax comes quickly and he tries to stay quiet so he can listen to Rey’s panicked breaths in his ear. She rakes her nails down his back as he gently rocks his hips.
And he turns on his side when he’s through, cum leaking down one of Rey’s trembling golden thighs, and he thinks he’s found his own droplet of sunshine in all this misery. No one’s going to notice her missing.
Ben hugs her to his chest and closes his eyes. Maybe he’ll keep this drop of sunshine all to himself. He deserves it.