inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[Ben nearly doesn't hear her through the roar in his ears, but her tone of voice grabs his attention enough to force his eyes open. It takes him a second to process.]
Yeah? Ok.
[He's not going to complain about a break. In fact, it sounds utterly delightful. So he leans forward on the dejarik table.]
[ The one she's been invited to. When she nods her head, it's with the explicit expectation that his bunk is the reading room, that they ought to sprawl themselves in there once more rather than any version of events where she brings it out here for a nice, neutral reading climate where they're not crammed in close and no one's in a bed.
She heads back that way, pulling the book out from under the pillow there. ]
[He absolutely expects her to come back out. When she doesn't, it settles in that she is looking for the same sort of intimate setting he had accidentally set up for them earlier, in an effort to befriend her. For some reason, it gives him pause now -- because they had been through more? Because he'd seen the inside of her dreams?
He knows if he stalls too long, she will get upset with him. So Ben eventually slinks into his bedroom and holds out an arm for the book, moving to sit on the mattress.]
[ She hands the book off to him, but she doesn't settle down onto the floor again. Instead she regards him with a sort of careful curiosity and then settles onto the bunk beside him, pulling her feet up onto it, boots and all. She folds her arms around her ankles, knees bent fully, and looks over at him, expectant. ]
[Ok, confirmation that they're doing this. He's not going to make this weird. Its not going to be weird. They can do this.
It takes him probably longer than it should to get comfortable. He kicks off his boots and nests himself in the opposite corner of her -- not really searching for distance so much as a place to comfortably lay his legs and rest his back. As a result, his long legs tuck themselves to her right against the wall.
Then, he searches for where they'd left off.]
Where were we...
[He clears his throat, trying to capture the same voices he'd used earlier to narrate.]
[ She stops him — a few times, actually — to make him reread the previous page, a testament to her investment. She doesn't want to miss anything. Now that she has set aside the awkwardness of it, she feels more able to appreciate it fully, to engage the way she has wanted to.
But his voice is soothing, too, and she is without restful sleep. After a time, she starts to doze against the opposite corner, breath even and slow and uncharacteristically calm. There's no forced restraint there. With him, in this moment, she feels at ease. For however long that lasts, for whatever that's worth. ]
[He obliges her each time she stops him, to the point that he is smiling near the end of his reading. This is the version of Kira he prefers: full of curiosity and near-innocence. That is about the moment he notices that she has stopped asking for him to go back and--oh.
She'd fallen asleep. She'd felt safe enough to sleep in his presence, even after all of the arguing they'd done just a few hours ago.
He gently closes the book to watch her. Every now and then, when she turns like she might wake, his heart thunders a little faster and he hastily looks away, as if he fears that she might catch him staring at her. And he is absolutely staring. She seems an entirely different person, like this. He wants to wrap a blanket around her again, but he hadn't soon forgotten the last time he'd tried that.
So, he stays right where he is, lost in mapping the way she's curled in on herself, the way it morphs the curves of her body. If only he could see her face from here.]
[ The more comfortable she becomes, the more pronounced her gentle snoring sounds. It's still light, more like heavy breathing than real snoring, but it's there. So is a softness that does not make its way through while she is conscious, keenly aware of him, and protective of herself.
It's some minutes before her brain processes the lack of the sound that had lulled her and the way he has stilled. She draws in a sharp, short breath, but even then doesn't move at first. Instead, she wakes slowly, blinking blearily, turning her eyes on him as they're still coming into focus.
A yawn holds her back for a moment, scrunches her nose, and she has to shake her head to quell it before she can ask — ] Did you stop?
[When she draws that sharp breath, Ben startles hard enough to crack his head into the top of the cubby hole.]
Sssson of a bantha!
[It comes out as a hiss, because not only does it hurt, but he is probably thoroughly busted. His cheeks start to color, and he aggressively attempts to clear his throat in an attempt to answer her question as casually as possible.]
Y-yeah. Thought you’d want to hear the whole thing and all
[And I totally wasn’t distracted by your prone sleeping self at all]
[ She takes a moment to study his puzzling reaction. A kinder person might offer some concern for his injury, or at least some sympathy, but Kira stares just as blank-faced and unflinching as ever. It's almost accusing, really, the way her eyes burn into him, study his bumps and bruises and sputtering. ]
You're staring again.
[ Now it's definitely an accusation. But she clearly doesn't know what to do with it. Only that she knows, now, because of him, that there is something to that. He has admitted he wants to be near her. But here she is, and he's still gaping, like he's perpetually waiting for something else. ]
[He suddenly remembers that she can sense his lies, which causes him to swallow, color more, and hastily follow up with:]
—ok, maybe. I’m just—not used to sharing my quarters.
[Especially with a woman is left off. At least with this, he can maybe play off his interest in her. Because he can’t possible have interest in her, right? Right. Sure. Definitely.]
[ She's going to keep pinning him down, sniffing out this confusion until she has satisfied herself with the answer. Thus far, she hasn't. And she's unflinching too, obviously not worked up about the implications of that phrasing. ]
Insisted on it.
[ She sits up a little straighter, head tilting as she surveys him. ]
[He adds emphasis on the word “sharing” like it is supposed to provide more clarity, but if this girl was taken as young as she seemed to be...well, he is sure Snoke did not teach his assassin about building meaningful relationships with people or about innuendo or any of that.
This is just another bed to her.]
Together.
[He is quieter when he adds that word, like it is supposed to be the glue.]
[ No, that's not right. Oh somehow gives the impression that she fully understands, and she doesn't. Not really. Not in the way he means her to, not in the way that provides clarity of the implications therein. But she understands that his nerves come from their proximity, that it's the closeness and the context which has him staring at her like he wants something.
That, she understands entirely. By itself their situation evokes a want that she can identify even without a framework to process it. ]
Don't be nervous. [ Helpful. ] I feel it too.
[ The want to be close, but also the gripping dread of allowing anyone to be there. She reveals too much of herself in saying even that, but it's the truth. Something warm in her gut makes her more aware of where she brushes against his legs, of the hair on the back of her neck, of the sound of her heart. (She'd felt it more keenly, if she's being honest, when he'd been grappling with her in the hallway. It was more primal then, less soft. But she decides not to share that.) ]
[His surprise is a strange thing. He'd kind of sensed something, but it was hard for him not to think he was imagining it. To hear Kira confirm it is...a mix of "told you" and "wait, seriously???"
No way. She probably has no idea what she's saying. Or maybe he's reading too deep into it and she is just physically thirsty and not at all emotionally thirsty. That is a little easier to digest. Assassins don't have real emotions, right?
He's devoting too much brain power to this. Ben clears his throat and shakes it out of his mind.]
I'm. Not nervous. Just--confused.
[Because like, murderous bloodhound or not, she's really hot and his track record with hot women is in the negatives.]
[ She nods, albeit a little warily. Confessing it feels like it gives him some power over her, but doesn't he already have it? She'd told him that she didn't turn him over to Snoke when she should have. He ought to have already drawn conclusions as to the effect he had on her.
Well. It wasn't as though he was the smartest man she'd ever met.
Kira leans in, her hands planting on either side of his legs as she starts to get up in his face, probing wordlessly at his fumbling. ]
Me too. [ Offering that in response to what he has admitted feels more secure. Her eyes still dart around to survey his reaction to that news. Confused, yes, was a good way to put it. She cannot put her finger to why he has this effect on her — the Force, she assumes — or what she's supposed to do with it. She's never been close to someone before. Not before him. ]
[She gets really close really fast, and he is sure that she must hear how quickly his heart rate shoots upward. The red under his collar creeps up just a little further, and Ben spends a few seconds just trying to get his reactions under control. Kira is practically in his lap, he can feel her breathing on his face, even at the distance she's established. Or maybe he's imagining it, because he suddenly wants her so much closer than she is.
He lets her come closer. And closer. There are several points where he can feel instinct telling him to stop her -- and eventually, he listens. He pulls himself up just enough to lean forward and meet her half way, close enough for them to feel one another's body heat.
This is probably a trust exercise. But if there is anything left of his father in him, its the tendency to yeet where his instincts drag him, trust or no trust. One of his large hands raises with the intent of resting on her cheek.]
Do you... [Awkward.] ...we can try and figure it out. [Stupid. He clears his throat.] I'd like to figure it out.
[ Her eyes drift shut briefly, and Kira tilts her head into the touch of his hand, savoring the warmth there. It harkens back to the half-remembered dream state wherein he'd embraced her, cradled her through panic. Her whole body sings with it, greedily soaking in the comfort. She turns her head, brushes her nose against his palm and opens her eyes to peer up at him.
Then, slowly, she nods.
Yes. She would like to figure it out. She would like to savor every ounce of this she can get. Snoke had always asserted that connections allowed for weakness, that Kira was strong because she had none, but there's a powerful possessiveness in finally having what she'd always longed for. And a certainty that she will do whatever it takes to keep it.
She moves up the rest of the way until her knees cage his thighs and she settles into his lap more definitively. It's apparent, like this, that she doesn't know at all what to do advance that intention, except more contact. She'd been young enough and her parents had been selfish enough that even his embrace had been foreign to her. Gestures of affection are outside her wheelhouse. ]
[Ben Solo absolutely needs Jesus right now. She plants herself directly in his lap and he gapes for just a moment before he catches himself. He was not sitting in a position that was prepared for another body, and so he grunts in a mixture of pain and surprise when she seats herself flush against him. His hands shoot down to her hips to lift her without thinking, just enough so he can readjust himself so neither of them are sitting on his balls.
Warn a guy, Kira. He can't hold her over his lap, of course, so he eventually just...sets her down. There's no real way to do this without making it way more intimate than he initially intended.]
Ok. Yeah. Hello.
[It's kind of...adorable. That's a weird adjective to assign a murderous assassin, but her curiosity and naked forwardness is intoxicating in its own way. He's softer in his approach, as if afraid he might take it one step too far and cause her to change her mind.
But now, with the lack of space between them, there's nothing to hide his nerves -- the warmth brewing under his skin and somewhere deep in his stomach, the feeling that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He pulls one hand from her hip to return to her cheek -- his fingertips have started to tingle, and his skin might be a little clammy.
She's probably never even kissed anyone before. Oh boy. Pressure's on.]
[ As it turns out, she likes his hands on her hips just as much as she likes it on her cheek — in that she prefers the touch of bare skin, to her great surprise, but there's an appealing steadiness to him holding her by the hips. Her mouth feels dry, so her tongue presses out to wet her lips while she shifts her weight, trying to get an idea for how sitting in his lap is gonna go, the overall effect of which is some vague squirming. ]
Okay?
[ She's strangely invested in him approving this move for someone who'd just spelunked in his brain. But it had been hard to coax him towards that before, and as far as Kira is concerned, this is more. Much more. Pain is mundane, universal. Intimacy is scarce and precious and terrifying.
Reaching up, she mimics him. Returning the favor, really, as if to show him why it has managed to soothe the monster. She cups his cheeks in both her hands, though hers are so much smaller than his. His hand dwarfs her whole face. There's something fascinating to touching his face in this way too. She'd done it to probe his mind before. But it's not utilitarian now — it's exploratory, and she makes note of the bony prominences of his cheekbones and the galaxy of moles mottling his pale skin in a way she hadn't before. ]
[Oh god, the squirming is killing him. He makes a sound caught between a grunt and a groan as he's forced to drop his hands to her hips to -- stop her from wriggling. She can't possibly know what she is doing to him, rubbing against him like that. Or maybe she has an idea, but doesn't think it applies here. He does not need to pop a boner this soon into this exploration.
Even if his lizard brain really wants to yeet forward and embrace his inevitable erection.
As a result of that realization, he does not answer her question verbally. His eyes meet her's after she's done exploring the finer points of his face. Somewhere in between her exploration, he's tipped his forehead forward to rest on her's, momentarily content to absorb the contact.
But he doesn't stay that way long. Once he senses that she's still calm, he will eventually duck his head to search out her lips for a long but chaste kiss. It feels both the right and the wrong thing to do in that moment. But if it was definitely the most wrong thing to do, he suspects he'll find out shortly.
[ His mouth is warm and soft and distracting, which keeps her from complaint that he has stilled her in his grip. Frankly, the grip itself its welcome, sturdy and firm and assertive in a way that has heat rising in her chest. Kira's hands slide back from his face, digging into his hair to pull him in tighter, turning the soft kiss bruising without ever deepening it. Fistfuls of hair tug at his scalp as she uses it like a leash to savor the warmth of his lips.
If he's in any kind of trouble, it's only for being too unassuming, too skittish.
When Kira draws back with a long, heavy inhale, her eyes flash wide and dark, pupils made slightly bigger for the kiss. She meets his gaze, lingering close, and then searches the rest of his face, considering it. Evaluating, almost. She decides that she likes this very much a moment later, and leans in to drag her tongue lightly across his lower lip, then sucks it into her mouth to savor the taste of it and satisfy some new but burning curiosity.
As she releases, her teeth scrape along his lip, and the suction means there's a faint wet pop as his lip is freed. It's experimental almost, evident in the slight tilt of her head, in the way she opens her eyes back up to survey his reaction. ]
[When she rushes in on his lips, Ben feels his grip on his self-control slide sideways, and he scrambles to keep hold of it, to let her explore her limits at her own pace -- and maybe give him time to continue wrapping his head around this. But she's got a hand in his hair and is leading him around by it -- and he finds that he wants to surrender that control, to return to that feral sort of pawing they'd done to one another already.
The calculating look that she gives him, all hunger and lust, encourages a hungry drag of his hands across her hips that he forces himself to abort half way, fingers half-way down her thighs. The feint deepening of their kiss only has in leaning closer to her to try and chase it after she releases him -- and were she not so heavily seated in his lap, he might have tipped too far forward.
But she's caging his hips and his lap only grows warmer with each passing second. His fingers drag up her thighs again to her torso, and then he becomes bold and chases after that deep kiss again. He no longer bothers trying to hold her still, against his better judgement -- he wants to devour this attention while he still has it.]
[ In all ways, her efforts seem to be experimental more than refined. To that end there is no doubting he has her full attention. One of Rey's hands gives up on his hair and slides down his back, mostly blunt fingernails scraping along his spine through his vest. It's an unapologetic effort to reach more of him, as her desire grows like wildfire with the express desire and intention of consuming him entirely.
It can't be helped, really. He's fascinating. And hers, she thinks, to puzzle out as she chooses. She had known that from the moment she had resisted the notion that she might have to give him to Snoke. She'd given everything else over to the Supreme Leader willingly, but Ben? No. Never.
She sucks at his tongue when it makes its way past her lips, a messy but curious endeavor which she follows with her teeth scraping against his bottom lip, eager to use every tool at her disposal to explore him.
The stubborn rock of her hips is not designed to bring friction between her thighs — rather, it's designed to remind him to keep moving his hands, to encourage him onward, as the steady spread of that heat is more than welcome — but she notices that it does, and her breath comes out in a long shudder as a result. ]
[He makes a pleased noise behind her lips when she drags her nails down his back and when she sucks backward on his tongue. He can feel himself quickly getting lightheaded. But like Kira, it makes him want more of that contact, not less. So when her nails clear his vest, he finds himself releasing her just long enough to shrug it off his body. Unfortunately, it offers him just enough of a break in the rhythm of him ravenously oursuing her for him to evaluate with this is going.]
Kira—
[He is surprised by the strain in his own voice when he calls to her, and recognizes that he has been chasing the gyrating motion of her hips. Color creeps into his cheeks when he realizes that she’s made him hard with all of her attention. To that end, he pointedly halts her directly on tip of his erection, inexperience leading him to believe that she is less likely to notice what has happened here if she can’t see his dick attempting to tent in his pants.]
If we keep this up, I—
[God how does he even phrase this. Is he sweating? Gross.
I might have to stop if. You don’t want to go any further.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Yeah? Ok.
[He's not going to complain about a break. In fact, it sounds utterly delightful. So he leans forward on the dejarik table.]
Where'd you put it?
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[ The one she's been invited to. When she nods her head, it's with the explicit expectation that his bunk is the reading room, that they ought to sprawl themselves in there once more rather than any version of events where she brings it out here for a nice, neutral reading climate where they're not crammed in close and no one's in a bed.
She heads back that way, pulling the book out from under the pillow there. ]
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He knows if he stalls too long, she will get upset with him. So Ben eventually slinks into his bedroom and holds out an arm for the book, moving to sit on the mattress.]
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It takes him probably longer than it should to get comfortable. He kicks off his boots and nests himself in the opposite corner of her -- not really searching for distance so much as a place to comfortably lay his legs and rest his back. As a result, his long legs tuck themselves to her right against the wall.
Then, he searches for where they'd left off.]
Where were we...
[He clears his throat, trying to capture the same voices he'd used earlier to narrate.]
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But his voice is soothing, too, and she is without restful sleep. After a time, she starts to doze against the opposite corner, breath even and slow and uncharacteristically calm. There's no forced restraint there. With him, in this moment, she feels at ease. For however long that lasts, for whatever that's worth. ]
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She'd fallen asleep. She'd felt safe enough to sleep in his presence, even after all of the arguing they'd done just a few hours ago.
He gently closes the book to watch her. Every now and then, when she turns like she might wake, his heart thunders a little faster and he hastily looks away, as if he fears that she might catch him staring at her. And he is absolutely staring. She seems an entirely different person, like this. He wants to wrap a blanket around her again, but he hadn't soon forgotten the last time he'd tried that.
So, he stays right where he is, lost in mapping the way she's curled in on herself, the way it morphs the curves of her body. If only he could see her face from here.]
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It's some minutes before her brain processes the lack of the sound that had lulled her and the way he has stilled. She draws in a sharp, short breath, but even then doesn't move at first. Instead, she wakes slowly, blinking blearily, turning her eyes on him as they're still coming into focus.
A yawn holds her back for a moment, scrunches her nose, and she has to shake her head to quell it before she can ask — ] Did you stop?
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Sssson of a bantha!
[It comes out as a hiss, because not only does it hurt, but he is probably thoroughly busted. His cheeks start to color, and he aggressively attempts to clear his throat in an attempt to answer her question as casually as possible.]
Y-yeah. Thought you’d want to hear the whole thing and all
[And I totally wasn’t distracted by your prone sleeping self at all]
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You're staring again.
[ Now it's definitely an accusation. But she clearly doesn't know what to do with it. Only that she knows, now, because of him, that there is something to that. He has admitted he wants to be near her. But here she is, and he's still gaping, like he's perpetually waiting for something else. ]
Is that why you're nervous?
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[He suddenly remembers that she can sense his lies, which causes him to swallow, color more, and hastily follow up with:]
—ok, maybe. I’m just—not used to sharing my quarters.
[Especially with a woman is left off. At least with this, he can maybe play off his interest in her. Because he can’t possible have interest in her, right? Right. Sure. Definitely.]
And. I don’t know.
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[ She's going to keep pinning him down, sniffing out this confusion until she has satisfied herself with the answer. Thus far, she hasn't. And she's unflinching too, obviously not worked up about the implications of that phrasing. ]
Insisted on it.
[ She sits up a little straighter, head tilting as she surveys him. ]
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[He adds emphasis on the word “sharing” like it is supposed to provide more clarity, but if this girl was taken as young as she seemed to be...well, he is sure Snoke did not teach his assassin about building meaningful relationships with people or about innuendo or any of that.
This is just another bed to her.]
Together.
[He is quieter when he adds that word, like it is supposed to be the glue.]
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[ No, that's not right. Oh somehow gives the impression that she fully understands, and she doesn't. Not really. Not in the way he means her to, not in the way that provides clarity of the implications therein. But she understands that his nerves come from their proximity, that it's the closeness and the context which has him staring at her like he wants something.
That, she understands entirely. By itself their situation evokes a want that she can identify even without a framework to process it. ]
Don't be nervous. [ Helpful. ] I feel it too.
[ The want to be close, but also the gripping dread of allowing anyone to be there. She reveals too much of herself in saying even that, but it's the truth. Something warm in her gut makes her more aware of where she brushes against his legs, of the hair on the back of her neck, of the sound of her heart. (She'd felt it more keenly, if she's being honest, when he'd been grappling with her in the hallway. It was more primal then, less soft. But she decides not to share that.) ]
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[His surprise is a strange thing. He'd kind of sensed something, but it was hard for him not to think he was imagining it. To hear Kira confirm it is...a mix of "told you" and "wait, seriously???"
No way. She probably has no idea what she's saying. Or maybe he's reading too deep into it and she is just physically thirsty and not at all emotionally thirsty. That is a little easier to digest. Assassins don't have real emotions, right?
He's devoting too much brain power to this. Ben clears his throat and shakes it out of his mind.]
I'm. Not nervous. Just--confused.
[Because like, murderous bloodhound or not, she's really hot and his track record with hot women is in the negatives.]
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Well. It wasn't as though he was the smartest man she'd ever met.
Kira leans in, her hands planting on either side of his legs as she starts to get up in his face, probing wordlessly at his fumbling. ]
Me too. [ Offering that in response to what he has admitted feels more secure. Her eyes still dart around to survey his reaction to that news. Confused, yes, was a good way to put it. She cannot put her finger to why he has this effect on her — the Force, she assumes — or what she's supposed to do with it. She's never been close to someone before. Not before him. ]
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[She gets really close really fast, and he is sure that she must hear how quickly his heart rate shoots upward. The red under his collar creeps up just a little further, and Ben spends a few seconds just trying to get his reactions under control. Kira is practically in his lap, he can feel her breathing on his face, even at the distance she's established. Or maybe he's imagining it, because he suddenly wants her so much closer than she is.
He lets her come closer. And closer. There are several points where he can feel instinct telling him to stop her -- and eventually, he listens. He pulls himself up just enough to lean forward and meet her half way, close enough for them to feel one another's body heat.
This is probably a trust exercise. But if there is anything left of his father in him, its the tendency to yeet where his instincts drag him, trust or no trust. One of his large hands raises with the intent of resting on her cheek.]
Do you... [Awkward.] ...we can try and figure it out. [Stupid. He clears his throat.] I'd like to figure it out.
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Then, slowly, she nods.
Yes. She would like to figure it out. She would like to savor every ounce of this she can get. Snoke had always asserted that connections allowed for weakness, that Kira was strong because she had none, but there's a powerful possessiveness in finally having what she'd always longed for. And a certainty that she will do whatever it takes to keep it.
She moves up the rest of the way until her knees cage his thighs and she settles into his lap more definitively. It's apparent, like this, that she doesn't know at all what to do advance that intention, except more contact. She'd been young enough and her parents had been selfish enough that even his embrace had been foreign to her. Gestures of affection are outside her wheelhouse. ]
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Warn a guy, Kira. He can't hold her over his lap, of course, so he eventually just...sets her down. There's no real way to do this without making it way more intimate than he initially intended.]
Ok. Yeah. Hello.
[It's kind of...adorable. That's a weird adjective to assign a murderous assassin, but her curiosity and naked forwardness is intoxicating in its own way. He's softer in his approach, as if afraid he might take it one step too far and cause her to change her mind.
But now, with the lack of space between them, there's nothing to hide his nerves -- the warmth brewing under his skin and somewhere deep in his stomach, the feeling that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He pulls one hand from her hip to return to her cheek -- his fingertips have started to tingle, and his skin might be a little clammy.
She's probably never even kissed anyone before. Oh boy. Pressure's on.]
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Okay?
[ She's strangely invested in him approving this move for someone who'd just spelunked in his brain. But it had been hard to coax him towards that before, and as far as Kira is concerned, this is more. Much more. Pain is mundane, universal. Intimacy is scarce and precious and terrifying.
Reaching up, she mimics him. Returning the favor, really, as if to show him why it has managed to soothe the monster. She cups his cheeks in both her hands, though hers are so much smaller than his. His hand dwarfs her whole face. There's something fascinating to touching his face in this way too. She'd done it to probe his mind before. But it's not utilitarian now — it's exploratory, and she makes note of the bony prominences of his cheekbones and the galaxy of moles mottling his pale skin in a way she hadn't before. ]
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Even if his lizard brain really wants to yeet forward and embrace his inevitable erection.
As a result of that realization, he does not answer her question verbally. His eyes meet her's after she's done exploring the finer points of his face. Somewhere in between her exploration, he's tipped his forehead forward to rest on her's, momentarily content to absorb the contact.
But he doesn't stay that way long. Once he senses that she's still calm, he will eventually duck his head to search out her lips for a long but chaste kiss. It feels both the right and the wrong thing to do in that moment. But if it was definitely the most wrong thing to do, he suspects he'll find out shortly.
So yeah. Yeet.]
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If he's in any kind of trouble, it's only for being too unassuming, too skittish.
When Kira draws back with a long, heavy inhale, her eyes flash wide and dark, pupils made slightly bigger for the kiss. She meets his gaze, lingering close, and then searches the rest of his face, considering it. Evaluating, almost. She decides that she likes this very much a moment later, and leans in to drag her tongue lightly across his lower lip, then sucks it into her mouth to savor the taste of it and satisfy some new but burning curiosity.
As she releases, her teeth scrape along his lip, and the suction means there's a faint wet pop as his lip is freed. It's experimental almost, evident in the slight tilt of her head, in the way she opens her eyes back up to survey his reaction. ]
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The calculating look that she gives him, all hunger and lust, encourages a hungry drag of his hands across her hips that he forces himself to abort half way, fingers half-way down her thighs. The feint deepening of their kiss only has in leaning closer to her to try and chase it after she releases him -- and were she not so heavily seated in his lap, he might have tipped too far forward.
But she's caging his hips and his lap only grows warmer with each passing second. His fingers drag up her thighs again to her torso, and then he becomes bold and chases after that deep kiss again. He no longer bothers trying to hold her still, against his better judgement -- he wants to devour this attention while he still has it.]
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It can't be helped, really. He's fascinating. And hers, she thinks, to puzzle out as she chooses. She had known that from the moment she had resisted the notion that she might have to give him to Snoke. She'd given everything else over to the Supreme Leader willingly, but Ben? No. Never.
She sucks at his tongue when it makes its way past her lips, a messy but curious endeavor which she follows with her teeth scraping against his bottom lip, eager to use every tool at her disposal to explore him.
The stubborn rock of her hips is not designed to bring friction between her thighs — rather, it's designed to remind him to keep moving his hands, to encourage him onward, as the steady spread of that heat is more than welcome — but she notices that it does, and her breath comes out in a long shudder as a result. ]
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Kira—
[He is surprised by the strain in his own voice when he calls to her, and recognizes that he has been chasing the gyrating motion of her hips. Color creeps into his cheeks when he realizes that she’s made him hard with all of her attention. To that end, he pointedly halts her directly on tip of his erection, inexperience leading him to believe that she is less likely to notice what has happened here if she can’t see his dick attempting to tent in his pants.]
If we keep this up, I—
[God how does he even phrase this. Is he sweating? Gross.
I might have to stop if. You don’t want to go any further.
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