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“It’s an entirely legitimate form of sexual self-expression.”

Rey cringes slightly at how rehearsed the line sounds. She can’t exactly be surprised by that, considering how often she’s used it to rationalize her hobby—to herself and only herself, of course, because Rey has never ever told anyone else what she does in her free time. Until today.

“Rey, listen, you don’t have to justify anything to me,” Rose says while taking a break from reapplying her lipstick. “There’s nothing wrong with alternative forms of, uhh—stress relief.”

Rey catches Rose’s reflection in the ladies room mirror, looking for even a hint of ridicule, and finding none. 

On the walk back from lunch—still high on the sight of her office neighbor, Ben Solo, in a new green Oxford—Rey made the mistake of letting it slip that she may write some very elaborate erotic fiction about said office neighbor. 

“You swear you’re not judging me?” Rey asks.

“I would never. I mean, if it were me, I’d just go home, pull out the vibe and go to town until my legs felt like jello, but to each their own,” Rose says with a shrug.

“Well, I do that too, I just write first.” If vibrators could talk, the rabbit in her bedside drawer would attest to the frequency with which Rey thinks about Ben Solo and “turns her legs to jello.” It’s a lot.

“Fair enough. I get it. First you write about what’s bound to be his ginormous dick, then —”

“Rose!” Rey practically screams, the sound reverberating on the tiled walls as she stares at her friend in embarrassed surprise.

“What?! You know it’s got to be true. He’s just like, really big.” Rose’s arms come out in what Rey gathers is her rough approximation of Ben Solo’s enormity.

“And you’ve seen his feet. They’re as long as my damn arms. Listen, don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it.”

Rey has unquestionably thought about it. She could fill an entire novel’s worth of pages with exactly how much she’s thought about it.

“I mean, you’re always going on and on about his hair and his lips and now I find out you’re writing actual porn about the way-too-quiet IT guy. His dick has to factor into it somehow.”

“Keep it down! Jeez. The last thing I need is someone overhearing,” Rey says in a hissed whisper.

“Sorry. Anyway, you have to let me read it.”

“No way,” Rey says immediately, heading for the ladies room exit. 

“What?! Why? How can you tell me such delicious news and then try to hold out on the goods?” 

Rose is rushing to keep up with Rey’s mad dash toward the door—taking two strides for every one of Rey’s.

“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Rose beats Rey to the door, parks herself in front of it and refuses to budge. 

“You’re the one who just two minutes ago told me it was a valid form of sexual self-expression. I agree wholeheartedly. You should have no shame, and you should totally let your awesome friend—that’s me—read it.”

“I’m not necessarily embarrassed by what I write, it’s just—it’s kind of a fantasy scenario, so I’ve created characters and done a bit of world building, and no one has ever read it before and I’m nervous you’ll think it’s cheesy or something.” The words come out in a breathless, jumbled rush. 

“Listen, I’m no stranger to a smutty romance novel. If you want to make yourself a pirate hooker or a governess, I’m all about it,” Rose says as she finally steps aside.

Rey just smiles as she opens the door and they silently make their way toward Rey’s office. Neither has to be told this is a conversation that should not be continued where nosy ears can overhear. 

They enter her office and Rey shuts the door behind her. 

“I’m not a pirate hooker or a governess,” she offers, resuming their conversation right where they left off.

“So, spill. What kind of smutty fare are you feeding me?” Rose asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a wide smile.

“Well, I’m a Priestess,” Rey says as she walks around her desk to take a seat behind it.

“Okay. Sounds interesting. And Ben?”

“He’s a god. Um, more specifically, he’s a sex god, that my order worships.”

“Wow, Rey. I knew you were into him, but you must have it really bad for this guy.”

“Shut up,” Rey says, a blush rising in her cheeks.

The reality is, Rose isn’t wrong. Rey’s crush on Ben Solo borders on ridiculous. 

She met him on her first day. He came into her office to fix an admin’s rights issue on her computer and she was instantly enraptured. He was full-lipped and perfectly broad and tall—and absolutely beautiful. Her crush only grew when she realized how completely unaware he was that he was any of those things. His personality is endearing, so quiet and polite. Not a single indication that he has any idea just how affecting he is.

It was only a couple weeks after she started that her nightly fantasies about Ben took a literary turn. She’d had a penchant for writing in college—mostly short stories for the campus literary magazine. But since she graduated and started working, her writing has taken a backseat to earning a living. 

One night, Rey started thinking about the elaborate fantasies she’d been concocting about Ben and she decided to jot down an outline for a story based on her most frequent fantasy. 

Over the last year and a half, that outline has become a half million word world she created with self-inserts of Ben and Rey as the protagonists.

“Oh my god, Rey. You’ve actually turned the quiet, nerdy, IT guy into a sex god. Ben Solo sex god.” 

“Kylo Ren.”

“What?” Rose asks.

“His name. In the story I’ve written, his name is Kylo Ren.”

“Oh, I like that. Kylo Ren — sex god. Sounds hot. Do you have a different name too?”

“I’m Kira. Kira of Jakku, Priestess of the Rising Twin Suns.”

Rose perks up in her seat opposite Rey.

“Holy shit, Rey. This sounds legit. I’m very intrigued and already kinda horny. So, when can I read it?”

Rey spends most of her free time creating this fictional universe, and she’s proud of it. The nature of the work, however, has kept her from sharing it with anyone.

Since her secret is out, Rey rationalizes that if she were to take a chance and let someone read it, there’s no safer person than Rose. 

“Okay. I’ll give you a few chapters from my most recent story to read. I’ll get them to you in a little bit.”

Rose sits straight up in her seat and claps. Rey can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. 

“Awesome. You know, if you could get them to me before our two o’clock, that’d be great. I’d much rather be reading about Kylo Ren — sex god, than listening to Poe drone on about brand awareness.”

“We’ll see. I’ve still got to —”

Before Rey can finish her thought, there’s a soft knock at her door.

“Come in,” Rey calls from behind her desk. 

The door opens and Ben Solo steps just inside. Rey can’t help herself. Her eyes quickly travel from his eyes that she could easily get lost in, down to his full lips that she’s imagined on her body, and then down to the broad shoulders filling out the crisp green dress shirt that started this whole mess. She knows those shoulders would provide purchase while he fucked into her—filling her up. 

She squeezes her thighs together as she adjusts herself in her chair.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” Rose says as she stands and makes her way around Ben, who is still standing just inside the door to Rey’s office. 

Right as she reaches the door, Rose turns around and says, “Nice shirt, Ben. That green looks good on you. Don’t you think, Rey?” She shoots a sly smile in Rey’s direction.

Rey is caught completely off guard. Rose is looking at her and Ben is looking at her and she just blurts out the first thing that comes to her mind: the truth. “Oh, yes. The green really bring out those flecks of gold in your eyes.” 

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes she could take them back. It was too much. Too revealing. Too personal. 

Ben looks surprised or maybe confused. The shocked expression on his face quickly morphs back into its usual look of impassivity—always schooled, always neutral. But Rey did not miss his initial reaction, and now she just wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” he says, his eyes falling to the carpet while he cards his fingers through his hair.

Rose quietly sees herself out, and Ben turns all his attention to Rey. He’s still hasn’t made a single step in her direction. That’s his habit. Rey’s noticed. Whenever he comes into her office, he hangs on the periphery—close to the door—like Rey is going to bite him if he gets too close. 

Ben’s still looking at the ground, and Rey is still calculating in her mind how big a mistake she’s made, when he brings an end to the awkward silence. 

“So, you put in a ticket a couple days ago about a printer issue you were having?” While he’s looking in her direction, he can’t even bring himself to look her in the eye, instead focusing on a spot on the wall just above Rey’s right shoulder. It’s a little bit soul crushing. Did she make him that uncomfortable? Will he go to HR?

It takes a beat for Rey to stop thinking about whether he’s going to complain and get her fired, and remember he just said something.

“Yeah. Sorry. So, I keep losing network connection to my printer. I can search the server and reconnect to it, but it’s inconvenient when I have to do it multiple times a day.”

“Of course. Um, may I?” he asks, while motioning to her machine. 

Realizing he’ll have to come behind her desk to fix the issue, Rey practically jumps from her chair in an effort to move and give him space. To give herself space, really. She needs a moment to figure out how to fix this, if it does need fixing. He’s always so aloof, so standoffish, it’s practically impossible to read him. Even now. All she knows is the face he made when she said what she said was—different .

Before she’s able to actually step away from her chair, Ben takes a couple steps towards her and is putting up his arm to stop her. “No, actually. I, um — I want you to show me how you do it.”

“I’m sorry?” Rey asks, confused. 

“I want you to show me the issue and walk me through how you usually get around it.”

He’s making his way around her desk now, and Rey nervously takes a seat. 

Once she puts her hand on the mouse, she can feel him step in even closer. This is the closest he’s ever been to her, and all the anxiety about his reaction is being replaced by excitement at his proximity. 

“Go on, Rey. Show me how you do it.” 

It most certainly has to be her imagination, but it feels like the way he says it sounds so different somehow. It’s deeper, slower, more assertive. She can imagine him saying those words in a far different context and it makes her clench her thighs together even tighter. Keep it together, Rey.

“Okay, so when I go to print, there’s no printer options available to me, even though mine should be there,” Rey says as she opens up a document and chooses the PRINT option. “See?” she asks.

Suddenly Rey can hear him—can feel him close the gap between them even more. His right hand grabs the back of her chair, effectively locking her in place. When he leans in to place his left arm just to the outside of hers on her desk, his thumb accidentally brushes her pinky, and it’s enough to send a frisson of want straight to her cunt. God, why is he so close?

Rey can smell his cologne—something woody and spicy. Kylo could smell like this. She can feel the warmth of his body as his breath skates across the back of her neck. He’s so close it’s making her dizzy. She feels she should say something. Address what she said earlier. Make it right somehow. But the way he’s practically breathing down her neck is making it hard to think. 

“I’m sorry,” Rey says quietly. 

“For what?” Ben sounds like himself again. The assertiveness from a couple of minutes ago, all but gone. 

“For what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have said it. I know it was inappropriate.”

Suddenly, just as quickly as he closed in, he’s moving away, and Rey is wondering if she’s made a mistake. 

He stands behind her and releases his grip on her chair. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s no problem. Anyway, so go ahead and let me get in there. I’ll run a couple tests and I should have the issue taken care of in just a few minutes.” 

Rey stands and moves from behind her desk, giving him room to work. The awkward silence is back and Rey feels strange—bereft . What on earth just happened?

Her mind is still spinning when Ben stands and pushes her chair under her desk. 

“Okay, you should be good. Just let me know if the issue pops up again. And if you could fill out the survey they send, I’d really appreciate it.” 

“Oh, sure. Uh, thanks Ben.”

He walks out of her office like he can’t get out of there soon enough. 

Rey makes her way back to her chair and can’t help but replay what just happened in her head. It’s all so confusing. She went from terrified to turned on to sad in one short interaction.

She’s analyzing every word they both said when Poe walks into her office. 

“Rey, we’ve got an issue. Armitage with First Order Logistics called and they’ve got a problem with an email blast that went out to their clients. We need all hands on deck. Can you get with Tico? She can give you the details.”

“Sure thing.”

Rey takes a minute to compose herself and heads to Rose’s office—shutting the door of her office, and shutting her mind off from Ben Solo.



It was well after eight when Poe and Rose finally decided to call it quits, so by the time Rey makes her way back to her office, everyone else is gone. The lights are off in the lobby and it’s eerily quiet. She’s exhausted and has been in an off mood since earlier today, but she wants to check her email before heading home.

She opens her email and instantly decides to deal with it in the morning instead. She’s got dozens of new emails, and most of them look like they’ll take some time to answer. 

She’s scrolling through her inbox when she remembers her promise to Rose to let her read a couple of chapters of her latest story. She pulls up her google docs and quickly adds a note to her outline specifying Kylo’s scent after the bathhouse scene as “woodsy and spicy.” She goes to the most recent work in her series and prints the first three chapters. 

She’s logging out and grabbing her purse when she realizes she didn’t hear her printer start. Figuring it’s the same issue from earlier, she logs back in and goes to route her computer back to her printer. She opens her printer options and sees something unusual. It’s not her printer listed, but it also isn’t empty. There’s a printer name she’s not familiar with staring back at her. 

Her heart instantly starts to race. She somehow sent the pages to someone else’s printer. She has to find out where they went and get them back. Now. She pulls up the network directory and looks up employee N00372021. 

N00372021 — Solo, Benjamin

Her heart skips a beat. Did Ben somehow accidentally set up his computer as her default when he was fixing her issue earlier? How does that even happen? 

Rey jumps out of her chair and runs into the hall. Hardly anyone locks their office doors, and even if he did, she knows she can wait until the custodians come in at midnight and talk one of them into letting her in. 

She takes the couple steps towards his office door and stops in her tracks. She can see light slipping through the crack under his door. God, please say he just left his light on. She slows down and as quietly as possible she steps up to his door and places an ear to it. 

Her heart drops. 

She can hear typing. 

Ben is still in his office. Ben Solo is in his office and she just sent her very explicit porn, starring him, to his printer.

Chapter Text

Ben is about to head out for a late lunch when an email comes through with a service ticket. All he has to do is read the subject line to know he won’t be eating lunch anytime soon.

Subject: Employee N05251977 - Niima, Rey

Ben’s day just got a whole lot better.

He checks the email and it looks like Rey put in a ticket for a printer routing issue two days before. Two days. Dammit. He’s already expressed frustration to Poe about the frequency that their repair scheduling software incorrectly queues tickets. Did Dameron listen? Of course not. He’s always too busy gallivanting around and making heart eyes at everyone.

Now Rey’s been waiting two days for a fix that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. His frustration at this fact is tempered by his excitement that he’ll get to talk to her today.

He locks his computer and makes his way into the hall. It’s a short trip to her office, and when he’s a couple steps away, he notices Rey’s door is closed. It’s unusual for her. He debates even knocking. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he also knows she’s been waiting two days for this issue to be handled.

He figures if she’s too busy, she’ll just ask him to come back. He reaches the door and gives a gentle knock.

“Come in,” he hears in that amazing lilting accent of hers. It’s all it takes to make his heart beat that much faster.

He opens the door, and as he takes a small step inside he notices Rose is also in the office. He’s about to excuse himself and tell Rey he can come back later, when Rose gets up to leave.

She’s at the door when she turns around and compliments his shirt.

He looks down. It’s a new shirt. His mother got it for him for Christmas, he just hadn’t gotten around to wearing it until now. It’s honestly a perfectly ordinary shirt, but for some reason the way Rose and Rey are looking at him makes him feel like he’s walked into the middle of a completely different conversation.

And then Rey gets this wide-eyed look and says the most insane but glorious thing. “Oh, yes. The green really brings out those flecks of gold in your eyes.”

Ben nearly chokes on his tongue. Surprise isn’t a sufficient enough term for what he’s feeling. Flecks of gold?

The combination of shock and nervous excitement he’s experiencing right now is doing very weird things to his brain.

Did Rey just compliment his eyes?

THE Rey Niima—darling of anyone with half a brain or heart, the single most beautiful person he’s ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, and the only reason he’s still here working for that insufferable Dameron—just told him she likes the flecks of gold in his eyes.

Rose makes her way out of the office, and now it’s only the two of them. Ben is just this side of having a coronary, but is trying his damnedest to seem calm and collected. He’s so on edge right now that eye contact is near impossible.

He asks her about the ticket she put in, and when he sees she’s about to get up, something akin to insanity comes over him. He really doesn’t want her to leave. This could be his chance to stop being a coward and finally say something. So he tells her to stay at her computer as he makes his way around her desk.

She’s sitting in her chair, just within feet of him, smelling like jasmine and awaiting his instruction, when he notices she keeps rubbing her thighs together under that tight black pencil skirt she’s wearing. Ben’s eyes widen at a sudden thought. Is she turned on? Before he can stop himself, Ben finds himself imagining those beautiful tanned thighs on either side of his head and God help him he can feel his cock twitch at the debauched mental image he’s just created.

He must be drunk on the thought that her thighs are rubbing together to alleviate a feeling of want in her cunt, because the way he says his next words is exactly how he would say them if she were splayed out before him, those beautiful legs spread open for him to see.

“Go on, Rey. Show me how you do it.”

He can’t be hallucinating how she clenches her thighs even tighter at his words.

She’s showing him now. Not what he really wants, but she’s walking him through her printer problem and Ben feels emboldened by her body’s reactions. When he moves in closer and grips the back of her chair, there’s no denying the hitch in her breath. He can feel the warmth radiating from her body, can see the goosebumps rise on the back of her neck as he slowly leans over to brace himself on her desk.

When he sets his hand down near hers, his thumb accidentally brushes against her, and her reaction—the soft gasp, the way she closes her eyes, the quiver in her lips—is everything. He knows now that she feels it too. He thinks this is the moment. He’s waiting for a word. A single word from her to shatter this tension and turn this moment into something real, something tangible.

What he hears is, “I’m sorry.”

His confidence falters. It wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, but he needs clarification.

“For what?” he asks, praying for a response that will buttress the hope he’d been feeling a few moments before.

“For what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have said it. I know it was inappropriate.”

And just like that, Ben’s certainty that this was a shared moment is lost, and he feels horrified with himself. He rights himself immediately and gives her some space.

He gives Rey her out and tells her she can move and he’ll step in to fix the issue.

It takes no time at all for him to take care of it, and he’s not even sure what he says as he’s getting up from her chair and leaving her office. All he knows is he has to get out of there—now.

He breezes into the hallway and can’t get back to his office fast enough. His hands are shaking as he walks inside. He shuts the door behind him, because no one needs to be subjected to the epic meltdown he’s about to have and—more importantly—he wants to have his existential crisis in peace.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

He takes a seat at his desk, his leg nervously bouncing as he begins to take stock of what just happened, and he’s absolutely mortified by how badly he misread that entire situation.

For a few minutes, he deluded himself into thinking Rey might actually be interested in him.

He should have known better. She’s perfect and he’s, well, him.

From her first day, from the very first moment he laid eyes on her and she gave him that sweet, shy smile of hers, he wished she could pour a bit of her shine into him.

It’s been a year and a half of the most exquisite torture. A year and a half of riding the elevator to the 14th floor and hoping today would be one of those rare good days when something goes wrong with her computer and he can bask in her presence for even a short while. A year and a half of dreaming of her eyes, and her hands on him, and of wondering what her mouth tastes like. A year and a half of being a coward. A year and a half of leaving work and going home alone.

And today is when everything came to a head and, as per usual for Ben, it went to absolute shit.

What was he thinking?

She made that comment about his eyes. He thought it seemed so specific. Almost like she really studied them. He realizes now it must have been projection on his part—he knows every shade of the kaleidoscope of colors in her eyes because he relishes and replays every chance he gets to even glance at them.

It also had to be part politeness on her end. Rose put her on the spot with her question about his damn shirt. And Rey, being Rey, was just being gracious about it—felt pressured to compliment him after Rose said he looked nice. That had to be it.

But, being the idiot that he is, he got caught up in the moment, allowed hope to supersede reason, and fell headfirst into the idea that she wanted him too. But as soon as he got too close to her, she made it clear her comment about his eyes was a mistake. Apologized for it.

The rejection stung, but now that sharp pain is mellowing and what he is left with is resigned disappointment and anxiety.

Had he gone too far with how he approached her at her desk? Were the reactions he mistook for lust actually something else entirely? Will she go to HR? Fuck.

He supposes if she does complain and he gets fired, at least he can try to move on. To let go of this all-consuming crush he has on a woman who is miles out of his league and who probably barely registers his existence.

He’s in the middle of musing about whether he could call in a favor with his Uncle Lando if he gets canned, when something occurs to him.

Oh, no.

Ben realizes when he was testing the issue with her printer settings, he changed her default printer to his to see if the issue was related to her network ID. He was in such a rush to get out of her office after, he doesn’t remember changing it back.

He didn’t. He didn’t change it back. Dammit.

He cringes at the realization that now he has to go back into her office and admit that he made a mistake. “Hello, Rey. So, not only did I potentially make you uncomfortable by pouncing on you like a wild animal, I also screwed up at my job and now I need to subject you to my presence again.” This is just patented Ben Solo luck.

Ben formulates his plan of action. He’ll go in there as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Pretend he didn’t crowd her against her desk like he intended on fucking her on top of it. And the things he said—“Show me how you do it, Rey.” Yeah. He’ll ignore the fact that any of that happened too.

He’ll wait to see her reaction. If she even seems remotely uncomfortable, he’ll apologize profusely for being a lecherous bastard. If she also acts like nothing happened, then he’ll just be willing to quietly live with the shame and embarrassment of what they both know he did.

He makes his way to his door and pauses for a moment to steel himself for the mercifully short walk of shame back to her office. Again, her door is closed. This time his mind instantly catastrophizes. He pictures her sitting across from Poe telling him how disgusting he is.

He gets to the door, takes a deep cleansing breath and knocks. He waits half a minute and then knocks again. Still no answer.

He walks over to Kaydel’s desk in reception. She’s watching the Hunting Trip episode of Parks and Rec, but promptly minimizes it when Ben makes his way into her peripheral vision.

“Good afternoon, Kaydel.”

“Hi Ben. Need something?” She doesn’t even look up at him to ask the question.

“I was wondering if Rey said she was headed out. I fixed an issue with her machine earlier, and I need to take another look.”

She finally deigns to look at him. “Oh, that Armitage guy called up screaming his head off about an issue with some emails. Poe pulled Rey and Rose to sort it out. I don’t know when they’ll be done, but it seemed like a big deal.”

“I see.”

Ben was hoping to get this squared away quickly. The sooner it’s done, the sooner it’s one less thing his anxiety riddled mind has to obsess over. Plus, he was hoping this might give him an idea of where Rey’s headspace is. Is she upset? Will she treat him differently? Has she already complained to Poe?

Kaydel pulls Ben out of his panicked thoughts with, “But, if it’s an emergency, they’re in the conference room.”

“Okay. Thanks, Kaydel.”

By the time Ben makes it back to his desk, he’s decided he’ll just wait for her to come back to her office. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever is going on with Rose and Poe, but he wants to fix this for her as quickly as possible. It’s the least he can do.



It’s now past eight and he’s still in his office. It definitely has not been the most productive day. He’s been there hours longer than his typical workday, but instead of accomplishing more, he’s accomplished much less. Hard to be productive when you spend most of the day in a miasma of anxiety and self-loathing.

His new point of worry, birthed a little more than 30 minutes ago, is whether Rey will think it’s weird he’s waited for her into this late hour of the night.

The thought has been gnawing at him.

He’s busy doing his cost-benefit analysis on whether to make himself known or just get the hell out of there when he hears Rey’s door shut.

The sound jolts a decision out of him. He won’t risk making her uneasy just to selfishly put his own mind at ease. He’ll finish up here and quietly leave.

He prints a copy of the report he’s been working on for Poe that shows the extent of the software queuing issue. He grabs it off the printer and sits back down to email him a pdf version. He’s at the end of a sentence when his fingers stop just before he hits the enter key. Something catches his eye. The papers he’s picked up from the printer—he realizes they’re not his.


Kira’s tanned face was bathed by the warm glow of firelight. Her chestnut hair was wet, and curled slightly at her shoulders. Gone were her usual priestess vestments, done away with before her earlier descent into the cave. She now sat cold and shivering in a thin white tunic made practically transparent with the water from the cave and the unrelenting storm raging outside the hut.

Her hazel eyes were fixated on him. She watched as Kylo’s eyes followed the rivulets of water slowly descend down the freckled valley of her breasts—his honeyed orbs flickering between the taut peaks of her hardened nipples. When she saw his deft tongue slide over his full lips, a shiver rocked through Kira that had nothing to do with the chill caused by her present state of undress.

He looked on her like a predator does prey, and while she should have felt frightened by his divine power—by what he could do to her—all she felt was warmth pooling in her stomach and a tightness coiling in her cunt.

Although he looked poised to pounce, he made no attempt at movement. He simply stood there half-clothed at the edge of the hut—tall and broad—the light of the fire reflecting off the expansive ivory planes of his bare chest.

Kira could stand the distance no longer. Her desire roiling, heating her from the inside out. She lifted her hand in invitation to him.

As he moved closer, she studied his form. It was perfect. Made so, she was sure, to appeal to mortal women.

“Just you,” he said aloud. “Only you.” She gasped at the realization that he was in her thoughts. What else does he know without her having to utter it?


His voice was deep, but low, almost bashful. It belied the depth of his power. The things he could do—could make her do with just his voice were limitless. She knew she would do all of them willingly and fervently.

As he took a seat across from her, his eyes caught hers again. The fire caused the flecks of gold in his honey brown irises to dance. She was pulled in by them. Enticed, enraptured. He held out his hand, his raven hair brushing his bare shoulders as he leaned his sculpted chest forward to take the hand she offered to him.

As soon as their fingers brushed, she felt a rush of emotions pass through her with the force of a crashing wave—awe, possessiveness, lust—but under it all there was loneliness.

Her heart ached for him.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered.

“Neither are you.”

Kylo gripped her hand more fully and Kira could see clearly the effect she was having on him. His breathing hurried and his eyes were hungry.

He pulled her to him then.

Her whole body went willingly as he straddled her over his lap. He spoke no words, but looked up at her as if she were the deity. His gaze was reverential, beatifying. In all her life Kira had never felt so desired. She’d never felt so —

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect being.”

Her head was spinning and her heart racing when he pulled in her hips and settled her aching center over the hard thickness in his pants. She felt heady—powerful—with the knowledge that she did this to him.

She touched him then, her hands traveling over his skin. Her cunt clenched at the sight of her calloused tan hands juxtaposed to his creamy pale skin—the sullied versus the sanctified, the scavenger versus the supreme.

He swallowed her moan when his full lips crashed into hers. He kissed like he meant to devour her—tongue and teeth. She could feel his large hands slowly slide up her thighs, his fingers grazing the hem of her tunic.

“Please,” she pleaded.

He quickly raised the tunic, removing it and tossing it to the floor. She was completely bare before him. She should have been cold, but instead she burned.

His hand made its way into her hair, gently tugging it back, causing her back to arch. He made proper use of her position, pulling a taut nipple into his mouth. While he laved one tight bud with his tongue, the fingers of his other hand tugged and rolled the other.

She could feel the wetness in her cunt grow. She needed relief—respite from the unfulfilled ache at the apex of her thighs. She lost herself in the sensation of his mouth and hands on her. She could feel his cock, hard and straining in his pants. Her body moved of its own accord, and she found herself dragging her cunt over it.

She needed it. It was not a want, she felt she would die without it. Could not survive without knowing the stretch of his cock seated deep within her.



Ben is reeling. It’s hard to form a coherent thought considering 90% of the blood in his body has traveled directly to his cock. He’s aching, but his lust-addled brain is desperately scrambling to make sense of what’s happening.

This is easily the most erotic thing he’s ever read and he pulled it from his work printer.

He pulled it from his printer, but he definitely didn’t print it. How on earth…


Rey printed this.

If Ben thought he couldn’t get any harder, he was definitely wrong. The thought of Rey reading this is dizzying. Is this what she likes? What turns her on? Does she fantasize about all-powerful Kylo with his pale skin and raven hair while she’s at work? Does she think about his tall and broad form fucking her while he stares at her with his honey brown eyes?


Ben scans the page again.

Tall and broad, pale skin, raven hair, deep voice, “The fire caused the flecks of gold in his honey brown irises to dance.” Flecks of gold.

It can’t be.

He goes back and reads the parts about Kira. Chestnut hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin, freckles...

It’s Rey. Rey is Kira. And he—

He’s Kylo.

Ben doesn’t even think. He grabs the pages and practically runs out his door to Rey’s office. He doesn’t bother knocking. When he opens her door, she’s standing there, purse in hand like she was on her way out, sheepish expression on her face.

“What is this Rey?” Ben asks, holding the printed pages in his hand.

Rey stammers. She can’t even look him in the eye, instead staring at the carpet while fidgeting with her purse.

He doesn’t let her flounder long before the next question rushes out of him.

“Did you write this? Did you write this about us?”

That’s when her eyes snap up to his. Rey opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“Tell me the truth, Rey. Please.”

She sets down her purse on her desk.

“Okay, Ben. I’ll tell you the truth.”


Chapter Text

Rey’s standing at his door, deathly still, and she can hear typing.

Her heart drops. 

Ben is still in his office. Ben Solo is in his office and she just sent her very explicit porn, starring him, to his printer.

She can feel the blood thrum in her ears as every heartbeat seems to coincide with a stroke of the keys.

And then suddenly silence.

Her brain supplies a single thought—Run.

Rey quickly, but quietly, runs back to her office. She has to get out of there now—no, not now—five bloody minutes ago.

It’s not like their names are in what she’s written. If she can sneak out undetected, he’ll hopefully have no idea who sent it. Maybe he wouldn’t even read it. Maybe he’d see that it wasn’t his and toss it. Yeah. Maybe that.

As soon as she’s in her office, she grabs her purse and is on the way out when her brain offers up a bit of computer related paranoia. He’s an IT guy. It might be a good idea to clear her browser history just in case.

She runs back around the desk and plops in her chair. She quickly logs back in, pulls up her browser and clears the history. The rational side of her knows this does nothing if he was really curious, but the side of her that’s freaking the fuck out figures it’s a modicum of anxiety relief. At least on the surface it doesn’t look like she regularly writes and edits her hardcore erotica while on company time—even though she definitely does.

She logs back out, grabs her bag, and is heading to her door, musing that Rose is going to owe her a bucket of margaritas for what just happened, when she literally feels him before she sees him. The force with which he swings open her door sends a Ben-scented breeze in her direction—woody and spicy—and Rey is immediately both scared and incredibly horny.

He’s out of breath, his face is flush and he looks angry.

“What is this Rey?” Ben asks, clutching the printed pages in his hand.

Rey stammers. She can’t even look him in the eye, instead staring at the carpet while fidgeting with her purse.

He doesn’t let her flounder long before the next question rushes out of him.

“Did you write this? Did you write this about us?”

That’s when her eyes snap up to his. Rey opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Us. He obviously read it. He read it and figured out the truth. This is mortifying. He’s looking at her like he’s poised to attack. He’s practically vibrating—the chaotic energy radiating off him in waves and making the room feel that much warmer. 

“Tell me the truth, Rey. Please.

The “please” is said with such earnestness that it throws her off her game for a second. She’s busy calculating in her head the excuse she can come up with that will allow her to save face and keep her job. She could tell him that someone else wrote it and she was printing it. But is printing it disgusting enough to him that he’ll complain to HR anyway? She could play it off and say that she wrote it as a joke. But writing it is even more problematic than just printing it. Fuck.

Just when she was going to give up and go for her last get out of jail free card—crying—her eyes fall from his face for the first time since he said the us word.

And holy shit.

Rey has spent the last year and a half picturing Ben Solo in all manner of carnal ways. She’d written whole goddamn chapters about what she dreamed his full lips would feel like on her body. She had waxed poetic about his cock for paragraphs upon paragraphs. Just the night before she’d written an epilogue, the vast majority of which was spent on descriptions of the way Kylo’s shoulders flexed when he was carrying Kira across the threshold of a home he effortlessly constructed with his giant, bare, god hands.

None of those things prepared her mind or body for being in the presence of the enormous erection Ben Solo was sporting in his grey work slacks.

He’s hard. Really hard. And something like hope begins to take hold in Rey’s chest. Was it just a reaction to her words on the paper? It would be natural to be aroused by them. But, then she looks at his face again and thinks maybe it isn’t anger she’s seeing there, after all. Maybe it’s something else.

She sets down her purse on her desk and swings back around to face him. She’s steeling herself for what she is about to say and the multitude of reactions that could come from him. There’s one reaction, though, that she would like above all others and it has a lot of relevance to the (from all observable accounts) giant cock that’s straining the front of his slacks.

“Okay, Ben. I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Why’d you write this? Is it some kind of joke because of what happened in your office earlier?” He shakes the pages he’s clenching in his fist.

When she flicks her eyes down to the tent in his pants—she can’t help herself, she really wants to touch it—she can see every single emotion flit across his face as he comes to the dawning realization that he’s standing in her office hard as a rock.

“Oh god,” he whispers.

He quickly moves his hands to use the sheets of paper bearing her filthy words, her debauched fantasies about him to cover himself.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” He starts to back out of her office.

She doesn’t want him to leave. She needs him to know. “Wait! It wasn’t a joke, Ben.”

He stops his retreat, confusion written across his face. “Then why?”

She wants to answer him, but she has a question of her own first. “Are you mad?” Rey asks. “About what I wrote—about you—about us.” Before she tells him the truth. Before she admits to the uninterrupted pining she’s been doing since he first walked in her office a year and a half ago, she has to make sure her read on him at the moment is right. She has to make sure he’s not in here looking to get her fired—that he’s in here for another reason altogether.

He looks incredulous. “God, Rey. Does it look like I’m mad? ” he says, motioning to the erection currently hidden by some well-placed sheets of paper. The words come out pained.

His response provides all the courage she needs to just do something.

“No, Ben, it looks like you’re hard,” she says as she takes a step closer to him. Her tone brooks no question about her intent.

The way his eyes transform when he hears her words and watches her step in closer to him is like a drug. His pupils eat up those gold-flecked irises until there is nothing left but black and hunger. The look in his eye is like a physical thing with the way it works itself inside her. It makes her cheeks flush and her nipples harden.

He slowly drops his hands then, no longer making any effort to hide his erection, and his demeanor changes completely. His tense shoulders relax, his lips are no longer pressed into a tight line, his hands unclench.

When his eyes move from hers to travel up and down the length of her body, and he brings his free hand up to languidly palm at his cock, god help her, Rey whimpers.

At the sound of it, it takes him less than three steps with those long, thick legs to have her pressed up against the desk.

She can feel the hard thickness of him pressing against her hip bone. Rey closes her eyes, dizzy with want. Her cunt feels unfairly empty and her clit woefully neglected.

“Open your eyes, Rey.”

She absolutely has to obey. He brings his finger under her chin, forcing her to lift her face and look at him. He’s so close, pressed flush up against her, she has to lean back in order to catch his eyes. She could drown in the look she finds there. It’s positively ravenous.

“Good girl,” he whispers. Rey feels her knees buckle, but she doesn’t move—can’t move, with how he’s holding her up with his body. “Now tell me why you wrote it.”

“I wrote it because I wanted you, but couldn’t tell you. This was a way I could have you.” She’s spent so long refusing to speak the truth out loud, her voice cracks as she says it.

“Sweet girl.” He brings his head down and nuzzles his nose along her jawline. “All you had to do was tell me, Rey. Just one word and I would have had you spread out on that desk with my tongue in your cunt. I would have fucking worshipped it.”

Rey is shaking. Every fanciful scenario in every elaborate setting, hell, everything she’s ever written period, pales in comparison to what is happening right this instant in real life.

“I didn’t know,” she says, breathlessly.

“Neither did I. I wish I had,” he says as he presses a soft kiss to her neck. “We’ve wasted a lot of time.”

Another soft kiss, this time along her jaw.

“Would you like to make up for some of that lost time, Rey?”

She nods.

“Come on, Rey. Use your words. I’ve read them. They’re so pretty.”

Please,” Rey begs. The desperation her body feels at this moment transcends any need she’s ever had before.

“Please what, Rey?”

She whimpers. He’s going to make her say it. Please fuck me she thinks, but he said he likes her words. Well, she likes his too. “Please worship my cunt.”

She can see she’s taken him off guard. There’s shock written on his face for a second before that hunger returns. “Oh, my god. Fuck. I will. But, first—”

He brings his hand in between her legs and Rey sighs with relief. Soon. Soon she’ll know what it feels like to be touched by Ben Solo.

But, he doesn’t touch her. He grabs the hem of her pencil shirt and lifts it up her thighs and above her waist.

But, first I want you to show me how you do it, Rey.” His words from this morning, but this time there is zero question as to his tone. Her ears ring with the way he says it. Her mouth goes dry.

She had imagined some distant, woefully inadequate approximation of this when he said those words earlier. Now it’s actually happening, and Rey is delirious. God, why won’t he just touch her?

“Show you how I do what?” she asks, just desperate to give him whatever he needs, so he’ll finally put his hands on her.

“I want you to show me how you fuck yourself when you think of me.”

Oh god.

“I know you do, Rey. Think of Kylo—think of me when you touch yourself, so show me how you work that little cunt of yours.”

The fact Rey is still able to stand is miraculous. She doesn’t know what she was expecting from Ben Solo, but his intensity surprises her. Maybe she was expecting soft—Ben is always so quiet and sweet—but there is absolutely nothing soft about him right now. She just knows he’s going to put sex god Kylo Ren to absolute shame. Her imagined god-like iteration paling in comparison to the real man standing before her.


He stands back palming his cock through his pants.

Rey goes to pull her panties down, and he stops her. “Uh-uh. Those are for me to take off.”

So she takes a seat on her desk. She slips off her heels so she can lift her opened legs and brace her feet at the edge. She wants him to see everything. Wants him to see what he does to her.

Her finger traces her slit over her drenched panties. She gives a small push to her clit just to alleviate a little pressure. She wants to make a show of this for him, but she’s too on edge already. She quickly moves her panties aside so he can see her.

Rey uses her fingertips to open herself up for him. She dips them down to gather up her wetness and brings them back up to start rubbing soft circles around her clit. She knows she has to be gentle. She’s already so close to coming, if she goes too hard this will be over before it starts and she wants to give him something. She wants to make this last a little.

“Fuck, so wet for me already,” he murmurs as he runs his hand over the tent in his pants.

Her thighs are starting to burn from the effort of keeping them so wide open, and even still, in just a few short passes of her fingers around her clit, she can feel herself clenching and fluttering inside.

“Oh, baby, I can see how much you need something to fill you up.”

He’s not wrong. Her cunt is aching to be filled.

Rey wastes no time. There’s no need to prep herself—she’s sure she’s never been wetter in her life. She pushes three fingers in and starts working herself over. The pressure they relieve leaves her feeling euphoric. She needed something inside. She wants his cock—so bad—but this will do. Yes. This will do for now.

“Three fingers?” he asks with the crook of a brow.

“I just know your cock is big. Two wouldn’t be enough,” she stutters between gasps. Rey has never felt more wanton. The things she’s saying, she’s never said before, but lord has she thought them—written them.

“Oh, sweet girl, three aren’t enough either.”

Just those words are enough to pull a moan out of her. Rey can feel herself working up to a precipice. Her shallow pants combined with the slippery sound of her fingers working through her wetness, reverberate in the space.

“Can I see it? Fuck. Please let me see it,” Rey begs. The squelching noises her cunt is making as she works herself over the edge, are so obscene that she’d feel shame if she was capable of feeling anything besides the unmitigated desire to have Ben Solo inside her.

“If I take my cock out, I’m going to fuck you into that desk, and I don’t want to do that just yet. First, you’re going to come just thinking of my cock inside of you. Then I’m going to clean you up. Then I’m going to fuck you.”

Just the acknowledgement from his lips that he will, at some point, be fucking her is enough to send Rey hurtling over the edge of that precipice she’s been toeing since the moment he opened her door and she saw how hard her words made him.

Her head tips back, her eyes snap shut, and she comes with a wail, something high and whiny, and so unlike her. It’s as if her body knew that even though she came, it wasn’t enough, because she didn’t come wrapped around him.

Rey can’t help when her back hits the desk and her legs fall down to dangle back over the edge.

Her head is still spinning, her vision readjusting as she slowly comes to the realization that she just finger fucked herself to one of her greatest orgasms in front of Ben Solo—because of Ben Solo. It was his voice, his eyes on her, the way he commanded her, that did it.

She lifts her head up just in time to make out his hulking form moving towards her. Her body is literally shaking with a combination of the residual endorphins still coursing through her and the anticipation that he’s going to finally touch her.

When his hands finally, finally land on her body they’re not where she expected them to be. He’s softly grabbing her arms to help her sit up again. Rey feels completely boneless as he brings a hand up to cup her face. When her vision finally clears and she finds his eyes, she can see that the hunger that overtook them before has been replaced by something else. Something softer.

“Fuck, Rey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says with a small nod. Whatever she’s feeling right now is several notches above okay, but sure okay will have to do, because Rey’s not sure if her orgasm-addled brain can adequately express exactly how amazingly blissed out she feels.

“Yeah?” There’s so much uncertainty in his eyes suddenly and it makes Rey’s stomach lurch. “I’m really sorry. I got carried away. Those things you wrote Rey. I mean it was intense. I shouldn’t have been so —”

No. No. Rey can’t let him apologize for what just happened. He can’t take it back. He can’t regret this.

“Ben, it’s okay.” And after a beat, “I liked it.” Considering all the things Rey just did and said, this simple admission shouldn’t be what makes her blush so intensely, but here she is.

He lets out a shaky exhale. He looks ... relieved? “It’s just — I mean — you know, this wasn’t exactly how I thought this would happen between us,” he finally says, his thumb slowly tracing and retracing a line across her jaw. Every pass it makes sending goosebumps down her arm.

“You thought about it? This? Us?” This is Rey’s biggest revelation tonight.

“God, so much Rey. All the time. You have no idea what it’s like to have to see you everyday and not say anything.”

“Ben, I spent all my free time turning you into a literal sex god so I could vicariously bang you. I have an idea what it’s like,” Rey says with a sly smile.

As if Rey couldn’t be more enamored with him, he blushes at her words. It’s a deep blush that travels from the collar of his shirt and up his cheeks to those perfectly too large ears—pinking them and making her heart swell. The man who just had her three fingers deep on her desk is blushing. Everything about this situation is so wild, but that blush—that blush is just Ben.

“Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense. A sex god, eh? That’s a lot for a mortal man to live up to,” he says with that sweet, crooked smile of his.

She lets her eyes break from his to check out the situation in his pants. His erection is flagging, but at just a glance from her she sees it twitch.

“I mean, I don’t know. You seem to be exceeding expectations so far.”

She wrings her hands in an effort not to touch him. His touches so far have been practically chaste and with the way the intensity has ramped down, she’s not sure if manhandling his dick right now is still what he has in mind.

His thumb finds its way from her jaw to her lips. And the way he’s looking at her, yeah, suddenly she’s sure he wouldn’t mind a good manhandling.

“But, I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says softly as he slowly uses his thumb to force open her lips and press it inside.

Rey opens wider and he presses the flat of his thumb on her tongue. Hard. Eyes never leaving hers. Testing. When Rey closes her lips around it and sucks, his moan is deep and strangled. The sound makes that familiar warmth pool in her stomach again. Her cunt starts it’s maddening insistence on clenching on nothing—reminding her just how empty she is and just how much she’d love to change that.

He slips his thumb out, and before she knows it, he’s leaning in and replacing his thumb with his tongue. Oh god. Ben Solo is kissing her. Plush lips move softly against hers. His tongue is just as gentle inside her mouth. The kiss isn’t hurried or hard. It’s sweet.

She’s imagined this moment, but her imagination couldn’t know that he’d smell like cardamom and sweat. She wasn’t aware that he’d have a penchant for nibbling on her bottom lip. Rey couldn’t know he’d let out little moans every time his tongue delved in again.

She’s going to ruin her desk. She’s still sitting on the edge, legs open to accommodate the bulk of his body. There isn’t a coaster big enough for the mess she’s making on it.

“Ben,” she whines as his mouth moves slowly down her neck—kissing, licking, sucking. “Please. Please, Ben.”

“Shh. I’ve got you.” As he says it, his hands move down and grasp her thighs, spreading them even more. Opening her to him and whatever he plans on doing to her.

The sight of his large hands on her lithe thighs makes Rey whimper. They engulf her.

“Remember what I said?”

Rey can barely remember her own name at the moment. She’s not sure what he’s talking about, but as long as his hands keep traveling up her thighs, she really can’t be too bothered.

“I said I was going to clean you up first.” Suddenly his thumb still slick from her mouth presses against her clit and Rey keens. Her hands jump to his strong, broad shoulders and then find their way into his hair as if they had a mind of their own.

She tugs at his hair. Trying desperately to kiss him, but she can’t catch his lips because he’s turned his full attention to her bared cunt.

His thumbs slide through her folds opening them up further.

“My sweet girl, you’ve made quite the mess for me.” His lips find hers then. This kiss is not soft or sweet. This kiss is a warning. He’ll be working that tongue in her in a minute and this is a preview of just what he’s capable of. Her toes curl at the thought.

“Relax for me. I’m going to take care of this okay?”

Rey is not about to argue with such an enticing offer. She lays back. Elbows propping her up, because she’ll be damned if Ben Solo’s plush lips are going to be on her and she isn’t going to bear witness to every second of it.

His thick fingers loop under the waistband of her sodden panties and he slowly peels them off. “I’m clean and I have an implant. In case you want to … you know.” He doesn’t say anything, opting instead to stare at her cunt like he’s never seen one.

Ben still hasn’t said a word when he drops to his knees. His hands grip her thighs, opening them wider. “There’s plenty of time for you know later.” When he props her legs over his shoulders, Rey takes a deep breath. The image of Ben on his knees, his obnoxiously perfect hair taking space between her thighs is enough to make her a little lightheaded.

“I’ve dreamed of this. Of tasting you. Of making you come on my tongue over and over again. Fuck. Your cunt is even more perfect than I imagined, Rey.”

Without another word, his mouth is on her. His tongue flattens against her and he licks a stripe straight from her entrance and up to her clit. Rey arches so violently at the sensation, his grip tightens to bruising to keep her in place. His tongue sharpens and wastes no time alternating between circling and then swirling on the taut bud. Teasing and then attacking directly. It’s methodical in its effectiveness. It’s too much. She can’t handle it.

“I know you can take it, Rey. You can take what I give you.”

In her delirium, Rey must have said the words out loud.

As soon as his tongue pushes inside her entrance, Rey can feel the sensation building low in her belly. His tongue is long and thick and how can it possibly feel so good. She pants as the wave crests and when he feels her start shaking, he moves his slick mouth back up and pulls her clit into his plush lips and sucks while pushing in a thick finger.

A kaleidoscope of colors flash behind Rey’s eyelids before it’s just white and light. This time when she comes, there is no sound. Her neck bows and her mouth opens, but it’s just silence.

By the time she opens her eyes, she hears Ben unzipping his pants, head still between her thighs—eyes boring into her cunt. She can’t sit up because her legs are planted firmly on his shoulders. She’s held captive.

He pushes two fingers inside her and Rey jolts. They slide in with no resistance whatsoever. He moves them in her and through her, impossibly deep, further than she could ever reach.

“So, fucking wet and tight. My god.”

And just as quickly as his fingers were filling her, they’re gone. His hand disappears below the lip of the desk. When she hears his groan and the slick strokes, she knows what he’s doing and she has to get up. She has to touch him.



He looks at her then.

“I need you inside me. Now.”

He slides her legs off of his shoulders and he stands. His cock juts out from under his dress shirt—thick, and hard and perfect.

Kylo Ren may be a god she created in the image of Ben Solo, but Ben’s cock is divinity personified.

She needs it. Now it’s her turn to be demanding.

“You promised to fuck me into the desk.” She grabs his Oxford, twists it in her fist and pulls him towards her. “Fucking do it.”

His irises are gone again, all she sees in his eyes is a reflection of herself as he grips the pencil skirt bunched around her hips like reins, and yanks her to him. He uses his other hand to grip her jaw, lifting her face. “Look at me, Rey.”

His eyes hold hers and Rey doesn’t even blink as he buries himself to the hilt in one swift push. She gasps and instantly regrets being so bossy. Seeing his cock—admiring its perfection from afar—and feeling it fill her up, are two very different things. She’s full to bursting and it feels like every inch he pushed inside her, pushed the air out of her lungs. Like there was only room for either cock or air and her body said fuck air.

“You feel so good. Better than I dreamed, Rey.” He kisses her slow and sweet as he thrusts inside her. The slick slide of him getting more comfortable with each stroke. The stretch less biting. The sound of his cock thrusting through her wet folds—of skin meeting skin over and over—fills the room. Just the sound of it already has Rey’s walls fluttering around his cock.

“Ben, Ben — I’m going to —”

As if he knows exactly what she needs, as if they’ve done this a million times, he brings his hand down and presses his thumb against her clit right as his cock hits that place deep inside her that only he has been able to reach. That perfect spot made for perfect Ben and his perfect cock.

She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him in. His wide chest against hers. His face buries itself in the crook of her neck and when he sucks, Rey comes. “Oh God, Ben.” It’s different than the other times—satiating in a way they weren’t. She trembles against him and feels his strokes start to stutter, feels his breath against her neck start to hitch.

“Rey, I’m oh —”

“Come inside me, Ben.”

She barely has the words out when he moans and spills himself inside her. His grip around her waist tightens like a vise. He doesn’t stop thrusting into her, but he slows. When his body finally stills, he lifts his lips from her neck to her mouth. Pressing a soft kiss there as he pulls out.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m good. I think I died and that orgasm resurrected me, but yeah, I’m perfectly all right.”

He laughs. It’s full-throated and deep and it makes her smile. He presses his forehead to hers.

“That was —”

“Transcendent,” Rey offers.

He smiles. “You’re really good at that.”


“You’re good with words. Your writing was amazing.” He presses another soft kiss to her lips. “Very uh, evocative,” he says with a sly grin.

“I have a good muse.”

“You want to go get a late dinner, or drinks, or coffee?” he asks. “I really don’t care what we do, but I’ve always wanted to leave here with you.”


As soon as she stands, the effects of all the after hours activities truly hit her. Her legs are loose and unsteady, coltish. She’s also the best kind of sore.

His hands reach out to help her balance. “I’ve got you.”

Just the words draw a smile out of her.


Rey stands, straightens out her skirt and slips her heels back on. She scans the floor for a second before asking, “Have you seen my underwear?”

He looks chastened. “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he says as he pulls her panties from his pants pocket. “I just didn’t know if this was a one time thing or —”

“Oh my god. You are a closet freak and I love it,” she says as she slips on her underwear.

“I’m a closet freak? You turned me into a sex god and yourself into a priestess that worships me—which is simultaneously hot as hell and incredibly ego-boosting, by the way.”

“Point made,” she says as she grabs her purse for the third and final time tonight. She’s leaving for real now—with Ben.

He slips his hand around hers and they make their way out of the office and towards the elevators.

“So, gold flecks?”

“Shut up. You know, we both owe Rose a drink, by the way. If it wasn’t for her thirstiness, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Rey says lifting the hand holding hers, and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I was printing those pages out for her.”

“Well, I’m glad I got them instead.”

“Me too.”

The elevator doors open and Rey and Ben make their way inside. Rey steals a glance at Ben and she sees a future for them. Just the shape of it, but solid and clear.

“What are you smiling about?” Ben asks.

“Oh, nothing. Just got struck with an idea for a Modern AU.”

“A what?”

“Oh, I’m going to teach you so much.”