There's a flash of triumph in her eyes, and then the spell is broken. Utter exhaustion takes hold and her eyes droop. She falls against his chest, asleep.

Rey wakes and she's surrounded by warmth. Ben's holding her as they sit up against a stone wall, a blanket around their shoulders and a fire crackling low before them.

His saber is close by and beside it is the Kyber crystal.

It spoke to her. It helped her. She can't explain it, but it was alive and sympathetic. It accepted her. So did he.

Rey lifts her cheek from his chest and the fine fabric of his white shirt to look up at his sleeping face in the firelight. He must be truly exhausted because he doesn't stir, even as she untangles herself from his limbs to go relieve herself outside.

Rey realizes she is wearing just that silky black dress. Her jacket and boots are folded neatly in a corner. Goosebumps break out over her skin as she walks out into the cool night, illuminated by the stars and two moons.

As she returns Ben startles. His eyes fly wild and he immediately reaches for his weapon. Then he sees her. His body relaxes but he looks at her sharply and Rey's heart jumps in her throat.

He leans up with an arm on one knee.

"Come here," he commands low, soft but firm.

His order sends shivers down her spine, but she doesn't move.

She wants to defy him just to see what he would do.

He breathes a sigh. Fire flickers on his face.

"Obstinate," he whispers and rises.

"Stubborn," and he takes a step towards her. Then another.

"Fierce. Resilient. Dangerous. Powerful."

Then he's standing over her and Rey looks up at him.

"Beautiful. Worthy."

A hot full body blush works its way up her neck and over her face. Her heart pounds in her ears. No one's ever called her beautiful. And worthy? She's embarrassed by his assessment of her and his praise. She'd rather his words be harsh than kind. It's not only his words.

His deep chocolate eyes are addictive, his gaze devastatingly intense but somehow vulnerable. He's so close, warm, strong… handsome. She hopes she looks like she's putting up a fight on the outside, because inside she is putty longing for his hands, his lips…

His next words make her blink out of her revelry.

"You saw him," he speaks as if he's afraid to say the words.

It takes her a moment. Then she knows what he means.

"Anakin," she says.

He frowns and looks down before asking, "What did he…"

"He said you should stop force choking people, even though it's fun."

His eyes fly back up to hers. He blinks. Then blinks again trying to process what she said.

And he laughs. A dorky guffaw exits his lips as the ludicrousness of it all hits him.

After all these years of seeking out the mighty Darth Vader, of worshiping him, Vader appears to this girl, as a kriffing Jedi no less, and tells him choking people is fun, but he should probably stop.

He chuckles and shakes his head. His life has taken the most unexpected left turn.

If only he hadn't sacrificed so much to get here. His smile dies.

Her gentle hand on his face draws him out his dark thoughts.

"I heard you," she whispers. He looks questioningly then she shows him. In the midst of her darkest hour and soul shattering pain, she heard his promise, that he would stay with her and she would stay with him.

It's his turn to flush. To care about someone again and be called out on it is terrifying. He expects her rejection. No one stays with him. His own parents feared him, threw him away. He's not a sap. He's not a good man. He's not a prince. He's not…

He doesn't know what he's not, because in that moment she goes up on her tippy toes and presses her lips to his.

What he *IS* is grateful.

Rey pulls away gently and his eyes follow her. To be given what he wants, because she wants to give it. Miraculous.

He leans down and captures her lips again but it's not fiery and hard like before. It's slow and full of reverence. Some might call it love.

Her hands fly up into his heavenly hair and she kisses him with everything she has. Flashes of the future, of the galaxy play behind her eyelids but she never loses his touch.

Her fingers travel from his hair, down his chest, until she's grasping at the buttons of that wonderful shirt and rending them apart. Rey wants it gone. When he notices, he happily obliges. Ben tears the shirt away then bends down grasping her thighs and lifting her effortlessly. She gasps against his mouth as he carries her around the fire and lays her down on the blanket, kissing her all the while.

They're free. Together they discover physical love that makes the force sing.

...

A big rough paw of a hand slides up over silk and virgin flesh. She writhes under the ministration of long thick fingers. They scream their release out into the night.

Rey wakes as memories dance tantalizingly in her semi-wakeful mind.

She's on her back, her face in his hair and Ben has a heavy arm slung over her. He's on his belly and the rest of him is laid bare in the morning sun. Totally naked and gorgeous, like a statue. She blushes but admires the view.

She has done with him what she thought she'd never do with any man or woman for that matter, and quite especially him. The man formerly known as Kylo Ren. The man who was inside her, who brought her body pleasure she didn't imagine existed.

He rouses slow and groggy.

As soon as he's conscious enough he tightens his grip around her, rolling to his side and pulling her against him like the big spoon he is. Rey giggles and shudders as another parts of him is apparently far more awake than its master and is now pressing up against her naked back. He lightly bites her shoulder, growls and buries his face in her hair by way of morning greeting. It's endearing and sexy as all force. The rumbling growl shoots tingling pleasure directly to her lady parts.

Rey wiggles and turns her upper body enough to look up at him and he looks down at her with that piercing observant look of his, framed by shaggy mussed up hair.

She runs her fingers over the stubble of his chin and top lip and smiles to herself. Apparently, he hasn't had the time to shave. She's never been close enough to a man to do this, but she's always enjoyed the look of stubble. Now she likes the rough, ticklish feeling.

"I like this," she says simply. He looks at her seemingly impassive, but his eyes are utterly enthralled.

"And this," she says placing a soft kiss on the scar she gave him on his face, then tracing it with her finger, "I'm not sorry for this."

He wants all her honesty, he wants her to see all of him, every scar, every mole, every kriffin' ingrown hair. He wants to see and be seen, he wants to hear her talk, he wants to feel her writhing under him again.

He kisses her. It's not long before she's screaming his name again, only this time, she's on top.