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Rey had very limited personal experience with men--in fact, she had none--but she knew enough about them to be surprised when the first article of her clothing Ben tried to remove as they made out in the passenger hold of their stolen civilian shuttle was her arm wrap.
Her surprise must've shown or, more likely, he sensed it, because his fingers stopped seeking the end of the wrap, lips stopped kissing the scar on her right shoulder, and his eyes, bright and searching, snapped up to meet hers.
"Is this okay? I thought taking it slow would be…" He trailed off, jaw working as he considered his words. "I don't have much experience, either."
The admission made her smile. They'd left the First Order and the Resistance to train in the Force and find a way to end this war, never dreaming there there was more they could learn together, something new to begin. She trailed her fingers through his hair and over the curve of his ear. "It's okay. Do you want me to--?"
"No." Ben caught her hand as she moved it to tug the wrap loose. "I want to do it."
Though not accustomed to having things done for her, let alone things as intimate as undressing, Rey relaxed against the padded back of the lounge seat and let him. In any case, she found it hard to argue with someone who kissed the way Ben did, soft lips working magic that turned her inside out. He kissed each bit of her arm he exposed, let the gauze strip glide along her skin as he gently tugged it loose. She shivered. This was inexperience? If he were any other man, she'd think he was just being self-effacing. But Ben wasn't modest; just honest.
"Is it because of your training?" she asked. "I read in the Jedi texts about attachments…"
She felt the downward turn of his lips at the word Jedi. "I've kissed a girl." He pressed his mouth to the crease of her elbow. Was that his tongue flicking out? "Another student. It wasn't forbidden."
Rey sensed more to the story behind his clipped summary: the flare of adolescent embarrassment, the bruising throb of wounded pride. That had had been such a long time ago. What about after?
Ben's lips left her arm again, but she knew he'd heard the unvoiced question. Their thoughts were so naked to each other. It was only natural that their bodies would be, too.
"After that, I avoided distractions."
"Even bare arms."
He gave no reply but a low mmm, absent, because he'd drawn the last coils of the wrap away, laid it aside, and now leaned in close, intent on the study of her arm. His fingertips traced the impressions left by the binding fabric. It would be like him to catalogue her scars, but even Rey didn't remember how she'd acquired them all. Catching herself on sharp, protruding edges of the wrecks she scavenged, mostly. Others were from fights, usually over her finds, but once or twice it was her they went after--until she built her quarterstaff and became competent enough with it that no one came after her with knives anymore. Or if they did, they regretted it.
"Such strength," Ben murmured, squeezing the rise of her bicep, which she flexed instinctively against his palm and fingers. The look of admiration abruptly gave way to a flash of crooked teeth as a full grin broke across his face. From it came a laugh.
Warmth tingled all over Rey at the glimpse of real joy from Ben Solo. As transformative as night into day. "What?"
"You have tan lines."
She craned her neck to look down. Huh. A little patch of tan shoulder, heavily freckled, contrasted with the pale expanse of the rest of her arm, though her wrist and hand darkened again, a shade lighter than her shoulder from sometimes wearing gloves. She'd never really thought about it before. It did look a little funny, she supposed.
"They'll fade, eventually. Since I'm not in the sun like I was on Jakku."
Her gaze drifted out the viewport beyond him, where the stars streaked by as their ship hurtled through hyperspace to a hiding place.
"Or maybe," Ben's voice tugged her attention back to him as he pulled the wrap loose from her left arm, "when all this is over, we could go someplace where you there's more sun. And fewer clothes. Then you can even out your tan."
His hands went still, and he raised his eyes to hers. Rey's heart quickened. Once again he was proposing a future together. This time, not ruling the galaxy from some flagship, but living in it. In the light.
"You mean like a beach?" She thought of holo advertisements she'd seen of resort worlds, ones she’d never believed could be real places. "In that case, I take it you'd be wearing fewer clothes, too?"
Ben swallowed, and she tracked his throat's upward bob, then back down again, dropping to the open collar of his shirt which afforded a glimpse of his chest. She'd seen him nude from the waist up, through their connection and repeatedly afterward when she slept. And when she didn't. She undid another button, revealing a bit more. When was the last time sunlight touched his skin? Pale as the moon…
"I don't tan." He resumed unwrapping her arm. "I just burn. And I'm not big on sand."
Rey snorted. "Good thing you didn't grow up on a desert planet."
This, too, suggested a fuller story: a young boy's misery as he choked and spluttered on saltwater after a wave crashed over him; burned skin further irritated by the grit of sand; in the background, adults bickering about their family vacation destination.
Not a beach resort world, then. Rey worked another button free. "We'll just have to stay in the dark of space for the sake of your delicate complexion. Can you live with my funny tan lines?”
"I never said they were funny." Ben looked genuinely affronted by this misinterpretation. Or maybe it was that she'd called him delicate. "You're sun-kissed. I like it," he said, so firmly that he almost sounded harsh. "Even if I should be the only thing kissing you. You're perfect to me."
He bent over her, pressing her into the seat cushion as he sealed his words with warm kisses on her tanned left shoulder. The overhead storage lockers blurred as tears sprang into her eyes, for Rey had as little experience with compliments from men--wanted ones, anyway--as she did with being undressed by them.
"Perhaps you should withhold judgment till you've seen a bit more of me naked than my arms," she murmured in his ear.
"You have nothing to be insecure about," Ben said, raising his head to catch her eye with his piercing gaze.
"I'm not insecure. I'm impatient."
Rey grasped the hem of her tunic and peeled it upward to expose her midriff, expecting Ben to push her hands away and do this himself, too. But he sat as though unable to move. He didn't even breathe, though his lips hung open as she removed the wrap that bound her breasts, too.
When his broad body covered hers, Rey thought she might not care if the sun never kissed her skin again. She might not have much experience with men, but she had plenty with sun. The warmth of Ben's gaze, the heat of his mouth, surpassed it.