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She’s dead.

So very dead.

Like, the ground can now swallow her up and end her life levels of dead.

Rey can only stare at her laptop screen in muted horror. The email message reflecting back innocently at her.

Professor,

Please see attached final paper. If there are any questions, please let me know. Thank you so much for such an interesting and informative semester! See you on the last day!

                                                                                                                                                Best,

                                                                                                                                                Rey Johnson

The email itself is innocent enough; but it is what’s attached to the email that currently has Rey contemplating if there is a hole that she can just throw herself in.

WIP.docx

That is currently having her anxiety reach near heart attack inducing levels. It also doesn’t help that Twitter was the absolute worst place to seek advice or some form of reassurance. With some absolutely cringe worthy responses such as

🇦🇺RensKnight18🐨 (SPOILERS!)
@RensKnight18

Thoughts and prayers are with you tonight

KYRA FOREVER
@Kyralover2903

From the bottom of my heart, drop out

Degenerate THOT
@jazbooster23490

IS THIS A JOKE. I CABNOT

KYRATRASHLOVER
@ThethirstiestTHOT

oHNTGODJDDKDJDJS I WOULD DIE

SassyWriter
@Thesassiestofsass

Oh god, this reminded me of when I accidentally sent a picture of Cloud Strife to my professor instead of my paper. Yup, definitely blocked that out.

Granted, there are some responses that were more helpful. People telling her that it is most likely not the weirdest thing that her professor has been sent and to just send a follow-up email, apologize and attach the right paper this time.

And so Rey Johnson did just that. She quickly typed up a new email, apologizing for the error and sending the correct attachment this time. Her hazel eyes were completely fixated on her laptop screen, anticipation and dread growing within her, and waiting with bated breath. Even though it’s two in the morning and she has a final test in about 6 hours she finds that she is completely wide awake.

Her heart is hammering when she see the status of the first email change from delivered to read.

Could he be reading the attachment? Oh God, maybe now it would be a good time to drop out. Maybe change to a new major? Actually, California seems like a plausible option; it’s sunny and warm and as far away from New York as is possible within the confines of the US.

Or, actually, she could go back to the UK…

She frowns at that thought. No, definitely not going back there.

She glances back at the laptop again, noting there’s no change in the status and noticing with trepidation that the second email hasn’t even been read yet.

Oh god, there isn’t enough alcohol in the world that could make her forget this night…

Realizing that she’s now spent a good three hours panicking over this email and its contents it reminds her that she still has other classes that she should focus on. It’s her final week of classes and it wouldn’t do for her to slip up at the last minute.

Taking one last glance at the laptop, and noticing there’s still no change since she last looked at it two minutes ago, she forces herself to close it with a soft click that seems to indicate some sort of finality.

For what, she isn’t sure.


“Cheer up, Rey. I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”

Rey groans again, letting her head fall onto the desk with a thump. She feels the reassuring pat on her back from her friend Rose, but it doesn’t do much to help with her anxiety.

“You don’t understand,” Rey whines, her words slightly muffled by her current position, “he hasn’t replied to either e-mail! I don’t know if that means he’s read it and ignored it or if he’s read it and I’m screwed.”

It’s been five days since what she has now since named doomsday. Five days since that email was sent. Five days watching the read status on the email with no change.

Five days of wondering how and where will be her final resting place be after shit hits the fan.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It is!” Rey lifts her head, to glance at Rose, biting at her lower lip as is her habit whenever she’s nervous, “It’s a Kyra fic I was working on.”

“Oh,” Rose replies, realization dawning on her face. “How bad?”

“Explicit bad.”

“Oh.”

There wasn’t much more to say after that. Rose continued to pat Rey on the back in some form of comfort or solidarity during these trying times and Rey appreciates it. She does.

She just doesn’t see how that will help her when she faces her professor.

Kyra is the latest ship that she has fallen into lately. It was the pairing of Kylo Ren and Kyra from the movie franchise Sky Wars; a franchise that she has followed ever since she was a child. She remembers the glee and wonder she had as a child when she was finally able to see it on television at the foster home that she had resided in at that time. It was the only source of happiness and comfort as she grew up in the system and the franchise spans decades now.

Ironic then, that it would be the harbinger of her destruction.

The pairing of Kylo and Kyra comes from the newest sequel trilogy that she’s been following like some obsessed stalker. But really, how could she not be? She is a sucker for the whole complicated romance angle, and those two fit the bill perfectly. It didn’t help matters that she identified extremely well with Kyra; a woman who was a nobody; looking to carve her place in the world and find her own belonging.

It also didn’t help matters that Kyra’s opposite, Kylo, could easily fit the description of…

“Good morning, class.”

Rey straighten in her seat immediately, her head tilted down but only enough so that the object of her gaze would not realize she’s watching.

He stood at the front of the lecture hall, tall with broad shoulders and a muscular frame that no suit or outfit could ever hope to hide. Soft, wavy black hair that fell to his shoulders, and his face…

God, his face

It could easily have made the most talented of sculptors weep in its beauty. A strong set jaw, prominent nose, expressive brown eyes, a smattering of beauty marks across his face, and ears that were noticeable although he would hide them underneath his hair.

He wasn’t the conventional type of handsome; but to her, he is the epitome of what a man is.

“Good afternoon, professor Solo.” The class greeted back as a whole.

Professor Solo made his way to his desk, dropping the stack of papers on it with the gracefulness of a cat. “I have your papers with me. I must say, it’s been an honor to read them and I can say with certainty that I am very happy to see the progress many of you have made with the amount of research used to provide evidence for the points you’re presenting.”

Rey notices that a lot of the students around her are whispering excitedly. Professor Solo’s class has not been the easiest to navigate during the semester. He is often very strict with his curriculum and is a harsh grader; stating in repeated occasions that he does it to prepare the students for their future endeavors.

Honestly, Rey wonders if he does it just because it amuses him.

“Some papers however,” Professor Solo pauses, and Rey could swear that his gaze lands right on her as he continues, “warrant further discussion and follow-up. I hope that the feedback provided will be sufficient explanation. If any of you do have questions, you may wait until after class to ask.”

Rey swallows repeatedly, trying to force the growing lump down her throat with no success.

This could not possibly be good for her overall health. This class in general has tested her in so many ways, both mentally and physically. She always felt like they were playing some sort of dangerous game. Or maybe it was just her projecting her wants and desires on him. But how could she help that? Especially when reading over the material, and how he would always seem to pick on her to read after a passage he’s read; and nine times out of ten that material was very…

Erotic.

“We’ll start with the lecture first; then, ten minutes before the end of class, I will hand you your papers back.”

There’s a nagging feeling growing from within her, alarm bells ringing in her mind and a clear ‘CAUTION’ sign in red blazing letters. Rey knows that, somehow, those words were directed straight at her. And as he continues with his lecture, Rey feels like today is a definitive mark of something…

Whether it’s good or bad, she doesn’t know.


“Rey, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Not you too, Finn,” Rey groused, holding the paper and staring at it intently, as if the worlds scribbled on there, in an almost unnaturally beautiful cursive script, could change.

Please see me at my office at 6:00pm.

Finn, her other friend, gives her a look of sympathy. “I’m sure he probably wants to see you for something good. Maybe your paper was so great he wants to show it off in the college newspaper?”

“That’s the weakest sort of explanation I’ve ever heard. I love you, Finn…but no. I’m pretty sure I’m going to die today.”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassures her.

“Sure, but if I do die, can you please take care of my plants for me?” Rey asks dramatically, stopping and turning to place her hands on Finns shoulders as she does so.

“Ugh, fine, drama queen.” Finn replies, “But I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Uhuh, sure.” Rey replies, resuming her brisk walk with Finn alongside her, “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Well,” Finn pauses, “I don’t think you’ll be able to run from this now”

Rey sighs, slowing her pace down as they approach a set of double doors that lead down a long hallway, the sign above reading ‘Literature Department’ in clear, bold lettering.

“Is it too late for California?”

Finn stifles a laugh, “Afraid so, peanut,” he pauses beside her and gives her a brief hug, “You’re probably overthinking it. Just kick ass and take names like you usually do. He won’t stand a chance against your charm.”

“Pfft, alright Finn. Just remember my plants. Also, make sure they play some good music at my funeral. Not some sappy stuff. If I go out, it’s with a bang.”

Finn actually laughs this time, “Anything for you, Rey.”


Rey’s hand hovers over the door, poised to knock.  She’s been standing here for five minutes, and she knows this because it’s currently 6:05pm and she was here since six on the dot.

She’s going to knock…eventually.

The department is empty; which makes sense considering that most of the Literature Courses are slated for the morning time rather than evening. She saw the last student shuffling out as she entered; their eyes looking sullen and hollow as they stared straight ahead. Maybe it was one of Professor Solo’s students?

Oh god.

She steels herself for the inevitable embarrassment that is to follow and gently raps her knuckles against the dark oak door. Before she can lose the last of her nerves and run away, the door opens and standing there is the source of all her anxiety…

Professor Ben Solo.

Her heart is thundering in her heart, the rapid beating overtaking her sense of hearing as she stares at him. She didn’t have the opportunity to do so during class, as she tried to make herself as small and unassuming as possible. But here, she is able to finally look at him.

He is wearing a white dress shirt with grey vertical lines, black dress pants and black leather shoes. He has a silver watch on his left wrist, surely more expensive than anything she currently owns if she could go by looks. His hair seems tousled, like he’s been raking his hand through it and he looks so unbelievably sexy that she is sure that her panties are getting damp the more she stares at him.

“Ah, Ms. Johnson.”

His deep, melodic voice jarred her from her observation and she felt a flush spreading across her cheeks. “P-professor Solo, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” he affirms, his face holding an unreadable expression on it as he steps away from the door and motions for her to enter.

Rey quickly shuffles in, her eyes barely registering the posh and expensive looking dark oak furniture and tasteful rug before she hears the door close with a very audible click. At this moment she very much feels like a lamb who’s walked herself right into a slaughter, her throat is dry and her chest is heaving and she’s pretty sure she’s two seconds away from a heart attack…

“Take a seat, Ms. Johnson.”

Rey nearly jumps at the sound of his voice. His mouth, in her opinion, too close to her ear for it to be deemed professionally appropriate. She practically leaps over to one of the two chairs facing his and looks down, fidgeting with her hands as she hears the sounds of his heavy footsteps walk around her and then the sounds of the chair wheels moving as he makes to sit in front of his desk. A looming silence stretches between them and she dares to steal a quick peek, expecting him to seem angry or annoyed but instead he seems…amused?

Huh?

Before she can further explore this unexpected development, he continues, “Ms. Johnson, are you in the habit of sending erroneous emails to your professors?”

“N—no.”

“Hnn,” he replies, and her heart starts racing even more, if that were even possible, “Well, I must say that I’ve received the most interesting email from you this morning. Care to explain?”

This is it. This is how she dies.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes out, her nerves winning out as her explanation tumbles out in a heap of words, “I really didn’t mean to! I just clicked on the attachment tab on Outlook and picked the wrong file from the drop down menu! And I didn’t notice until after I had already hit send, and by then it was too late, and so I just panicked and re-sent you another email and I just, I don’t – please don’t fail me for this?”

Silence descended on them once again and this time she decides it’s probably best to see how her death occurs in real time. Rey lifts her gaze up, ready to accept her fate…

And her jaw practically drops at what she sees.

Is that…a smirk?

It’s barely there, just the slight twitch of his lips, but it’s there. “Fail you?” he asks, sounding almost amused, “Now, why would I do that? Though I must admit that it was…an interesting read.”

Rey groans, burying her face in her hands, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he waves his hand dismissively, “But I am curious.”

Rey, chances another peek at him, “Curious?”

“Yes, I was curious as to the source of inspiration for that…riveting story.”

Rey’s jaw opens and closes multiple times in the perfect imitation of a fish, her mind completely blank, and words suddenly very hard for her, “Inspiration?” she squeaked.

“Yes.”

“I – uh, what I mean to say is – um, I don’t exactly – oh, hmm”

“Words, Ms. Johnson. Use your words.”

She’s sure that her face is positively blazing red by now, if the heat on her cheeks were any indication, “I um, nowhere?”

“Nowhere?” he repeated, his face a complete blank, “You know, Ms. Johnson, I found it fascinating how the premise and the setting for this story of yours seems oddly familiar. Surely, you’ve drawn inspiration from somewhere?”

Her mind was drawing blanks, completely empty and white noise overloading her senses. He knows, he knows, and Rey feels the anxiety within her well up, threatening to tip over the already full cup of fear that she’s been steadily accumulating since last night.

She barely registers the sound of movement until she sees white and black in her vision. She looks up, and up, and up, and her mouth falls open at the sight of Ben Solo looming over her, his hands gripping at the arm rests of her chair, effectively caging her in and at his mercy. His gaze is intense, looking at her, no, through her, and she burns under its intensity. This was who he is, raw emotions within expressive eyes, and she dares herself to hope that maybe…

“You’ve been thinking of me while writing that, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question, it was more a statement of fact.

Rey swallows, and Ben seems to lock in on that movement at her throat, his jaw tensing as he watches. “Professor, I…”

She doesn’t know how it happens, or who moves first. It takes her a few seconds for her blank mind to flare back to life, and for it to process what is happening.

Professor Solo is kissing her.

Or maybe she’s kissing him?

She doesn’t know, but what she does know is that his lips are soft against hers, each one practically molded for the other as he slants his head and a groan escapes his mouth. He nips at her bottom lip and she parts them in surprise, which he uses to slip his tongue inside, and practically devours her in the process.

Her hands move of their own accord and wrap themselves around his neck, bringing him closer, needing him closer. She feels a knot beginning to form in her stomach, and shifts her legs a little, trying to quell the arousal that is forming there.

“Rey,” he moans against her lips, and she shivers at the sound of it, deep and dark and full of desire.

It was at that precise time that her brain fully processes what is happening.

She is. Kissing. Her. professor!

Her eyes open in shock and she pulls away, her arms quickly disentangling themselves from him and a hand comes up to press itself to her chest. She’s panting and he doesn’t look much better, his own chest rising and falling and his eyes…

“Professor, I am…”

“Stop,” he commands, raking a hand through his hair. Rey begins to nibble at her bottom lip, her nervous habit rearing its head, and his eyes hone in on that movement. “Fuck,” he whispers quietly, but she was still able to hear it.

“Professor… I”

“Rey, I”

They both pause at the sound of the other, silence descending upon them and filling up the space between them. He tilts his head slightly, motioning for her to go ahead.

“Professor, I am so so sorry. Really, I don’t know what’s gotten over me,” She’s panicking again, words spilling from her mouth and her filter long gone. She begins to fidget with her hands on her lap, her gaze downwards, “I mean, I know what’s actually gotten over me but I don’t really, you know? And, I realize that this was highly inappropriate and I swear I won’t tell a soul and I hope this doesn’t aff–“

Her word vomit was interrupted by a huff, more like an exhale? It was short and barely audible but she was so attuned, her senses on such high alert, that she heard it clearly. She glanced upwards and saw him standing over her, his hand covering his mouth in an admittedly feeble attempt to stifle his laugh.

Her personality overrode her logic and she crosses her arms over her chest, “It’s not funny,” she grumbled.

“No, it’s not,” he concedes, moving to lean against his desk. “More like, adorable.”

“What?” she exhaled, her eyes growing wider. His eyes are wide too, as if he didn’t mean to let those words slip up. He swallows and she follows the movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobs.

“Shit,” he sighs, his gaze distant for a while, the tick in his jaw more prominent, “Rey.”

Her breath hitches at his words, the way he says her name…it felt sinful to hear. Like he is the devil luring her in to his trap, and she is helpless to resist. Her mind, the evil thing that it is, starts to take that singular sound and form thoughts, images, of what it would be like to hear him gasp her name while they touch, his skin bare for her hands to explore. Her hand skimming down, as they make their way down to his hips, further down to grasp what lay between his legs…

She wonders if he’s proportionate down there.

And she promptly ends that thought as soon as it came.

“Rey,” he calls her name again, and her body thrums with energy, a strange mixture of anticipation and dread, “Fuck, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” he ends in a whisper.

Oh. Okay, she can take a hint. At least she thinks she can. Clearly he is not interested in her. And why should he be, a cruel part of her mind taunted. He was a professor, and she was his student. Moral and ethical implications aside, she was also very conscious that she wasn’t what many would label as ‘sexy’. She was lean with small curves; the body of an athlete, maybe, not of a supermodel.

“Professor,” she interrupts, moving to stand, her gaze fixated on the ground, unwilling to show him just how…conflicted she feels, “I understand that this is a very…awkward situation. I apologize for this whole mess, I won’t tell anyone. If there’s nothing else then I’ll just….go…yeah…” She turns around, already walking towards the door. Until she feel a big and strong arm pull her backwards, spinning her around before she found herself colliding right into a very firm and unyielding chest. “Uh, professor?” she squeaked, rather inelegantly.

He offered no answer and instead bends down to kiss her again. This kiss starts out innocently enough, a press of the lips, chaste. But he quickly turns it up in intensity, nibbling at her bottom lip for a bit before biting down more urgently, not enough to hurt but just enough for her to squeak into his mouth, the sound swallowed up between them. This time when her hands come up, it’s to fist themselves on the fabric of his shirt, brushing against firm and taut muscles that lay underneath.

Suddenly, she feels his hands skim over her body, pulling her whole body flush to his. She lets out a strangled moan at the feeling of something very hard pressed against her belly and a thrill of excitement rushes over her at the knowledge that he’s turned on

By her.

“Professor,” she moans against his lips, sighing when he pulls away to begin pressing kisses against her jaw, moving down her neck.

“Ben,” he says against her neck, and she shudders from the vibration of his voice against her skin.

“What?” she asks breathily, her mind a blank once again under his attentions.

“Ben,” he repeats again against her neck, “Call me Ben.”

“Ben,” she repeats, sighing.

Something within him seems to snap then, his hands grip at her thighs tightly before he lifts her up and turns around, one of his hands leaves briefly and she hears the sound of various items hit the floor before she is placed on top of his table. His hands come up and she feels her, rather unsexy, red t-shirt being tugged upwards and his hand coming up to grasp one of her breasts that were covered by her bra. She whimpers under him, feeling his fingers making teasing circles around her nipple before pinching them lightly.

The knot that was forming before made its presence known again, liquid heat coursing through her body and overtaking her. Rey tilts her head back, reveling in the pleasure that he’s stoking within her.

“Fuck,” she hears him breathe out, and forces herself to move her head back up towards him. His eyes were dark in lust, and he was breathing heavily, as if trying to maintain some semblance of control while they remain locked with hers. “Tell me to stop,” he grits out, though his hand is continuing its movement on her breast. The other one coming up to give attention to the other neglected breast. “Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I will. If not, I’m going to fuck you right here, right now, on this desk.”

Rey recognized what he was doing. He was giving her an out, a chance to stop all of this before it escalates any further. The logical part of her brain was telling her to take it, to stop whatever was happening between them before it crosses that line. But the other part of her brain…

Well, that one was louder.

“Do it, Ben,” she says, bringing her lips right to his ear to whisper, “Fuck me right now, Ben. Please.”

The next few seconds were a whirlwind of movement. She distinctly notices the urgency in his hands as he pulls her shirt and jeans off, leaving her in her rather plan white bra and panties. Her hands were also moving, undoing the buttons on his shirt and slipping her hands underneath it. Rey gasps at the feeling of skin against skin, the quiver of his muscles underneath her fingertips as she grazes down his chest, his stomach, feeling his abdominal muscles; all hard lines and defined. Confirming her suspicions that he does indeed have an eight-pack.

She feels his hands working at the fastenings of her bra, the garment becoming loose and slipping down her arms with ease. She restrained the urge to cover her breasts, self-conscious of their size, when she noticed him staring hungrily at them.

His hands moved up to palm her breasts again, no longer hindered by the layer of fabric, “Shit, Rey. Your tits are perfect,” he groans before quickly moving down to latch his lips over a nipple. She cries out in surprise, his tongue circling her nipple before giving it a light bite and moving on to the other one. She shivers, and tries to snake a hand between them to her legs, wanting more. His hand stops hers, and she opens her eyes, wondering when she even closed them, to see him staring at her. “Don’t,” he says, “let me.”

Her eyes widen in surprise of his words, “You don’t,” she begins, nervous at what he implied he would do. She’s doesn’t have extensive experience with sex, but the limited experience she does have told her that guys wouldn’t usually spend time trying to get a girl off, more concerned with their own pleasure.

“I want to,” was his only reply while his hand moved down to press against her panties, “Fuck, you’re wet.”

Rey whimpers, his fingers moving up and down against her, creating a sweet friction that had her legs tremble. “Ben,” she whines, wanting more, needing more.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispers before moving down to kneel, his head at level with her core. She looks down just in time to see him to hook his fingers to her panties and move them to the side, revealing her cunt that was pink and glistening with arousal. He spared her a quick glance before he immediately pressed his tongue against her, making one long, heated, stroke.

“Oh god,” she moaned, her thighs squirming.

She heard him chuckle, “Not quite,” before delving back in with his tongue, lapping at her folds with vigor. Her thighs are shaking, wanting more yet less at the same time. He huffs a breath out and she distinctly hears the sound of fabric tearing, “Ben!” she cries out, realizing that he just ripped her panties.

He simply shrugs in response, using his hands to hold her thighs down and resuming his attention at her cunt. His tongue moves further up, finding and circling her clit and her hands move and grab fistfuls of his hair, needing to find something to keep her tethered. Ben continues his teasing at her clit, while one of his hands moves, a finger circling at her entrance before sinking in.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, the vibration of his voice combined with him penetrating her with his finger and teasing her clit enough to push her past the precipice; a cry escaping her lips while the waves of her orgasm wash over her.

He still continues though, prolonging her climax and stoking that fire again. His finger moves in and out slowly, stretching her. Soon, she feels the press of a second finger along with the first, and she shakes at the feeling of it while his tongue continues to draw patterns against her clit. “Ben,” she whispers. He pumps her a few times before she feels a third and her body tenses, already feeling stretched to her limits.

“Shhh,” he whispers, “relax, you can take it,” and he slowly pushes the third finger in, stopping when he feels her body tense. Slowly, she breathes and wills her body to relax and he must sense it, since he begins pushing in again. “Fuck, you’re going to be so tight around my cock”

It should’ve been obscene; she should be embarrassed. But the sight of his face pressed against her, and the wet sounds of her cunt as he fucks her with his fingers only further arouse her. Rey feels herself back that that precipice again, on the verge of second climax. “Shit, Ben, I’m going to-ahh,” her sentence ends on a hoarse cry when his lips close around her clit and he sucks, hard, pushing her through her second climax. He continues to lap at her, licking at her come. She pulls at his hair lightly, silently begging for him to stop.

Thankfully, he understands and he stands up again and presses his lips to hers. She can taste herself mixed in with him as his tongue delves into her mouth. Rey moves her hand to grip at his cock, still confined in his pants. He hisses and tugs her hand away, shaking his head as he does so. “You keep doing that and I won’t last long,” he says, working at the button and zipper of his pants, “maybe next time, sweetheart.”

Her heart jumps as she registers his words. Next time, implying that this isn’t just a one and done for him. That they could continue, and her mind takes that idea and runs with it; forming pictures of them together, in bed having sex, out of bed having sex, going out places, being together

It was a silly dream, but that was the beauty of dreams, it could be silly and insane but they were hers to keep.

She distinctly hears the sound of foil and realizes that he’s pulled a condom from somewhere and was rolling it over his hardened cock, already throbbing and ruddy at the head; a drop of pre-cum glistening.

It was at that time she finally confirmed that, yes, he was definitely proportionate.

She felt the long, hard, length of his thrust against her folds, gathering and coating himself with her come. He continued to thrust against her a few times, and they held each other’s gaze as he finally, finally, lined himself up to her entrance and began to push in.

She was stretched beyond what she thought she could manage, a slight pinching sensation as he pushed in and she winces at the feeling. Ben stops, his jaw clenched, trying to hold off from just going in with one thrust, “Are you okay?” he grits out.

She nods, swallowing, “Yes, just…go slow please? Just for a little bit. It’s been a while”

He nods in understanding and slows his pace considerably, stopping a couple of seconds to allow her to adjust. Eventually, he bottomed out and stilled, allowing her a few moments to adjust. It wasn’t painful, just an immense feeling of being stretched and her muscles were tense. After a few minutes the feeling became dulled and Rey shifted her hips experimentally, testing it and immediately gasping at the feeling.

“Now?” he asked, his eyes shut tightly and his arms bracketing her sides, his hands gripping at the edge of his desk with white knuckled intensity.

“Now,” she confirms, her arms coming up to wrap themselves around his neck.

He slowly pulls up, until just the head of his cock remains and then slowly pushes back in. He continues the slow, languid thrusts and Rey shakes her head, “Ben, please”

“Please what?” he asks, his eyes finally opening and finding hers, “Tell me what you want, Rey.”

“I…” she pauses, feeling flustered at how he wants her to admit to him that it wasn’t enough, that she needed more. It was silly of course, considering the position they are in already, “Faster, Ben. C-can you…”

The sentence died off in her throat and a gasp of surprise left her lips when he suddenly thrust back in, hard. Gone was the slow, near tortuous pace; now he was moving.

And it was wonderful.

He moved in hard and fast thrusts, each time his cock brushing up against a spot within her that had her shivering. She chanced a peek down and became fixated at the sight of his abs flexing with each thrust as well as the sight of his long, thick cock thrusting in and out of her pussy. It was lewd, almost embarrassingly so, but she couldn’t look away, and she felt herself clench around him; which drew out a groan in response.

The only sounds heard in the office were breathy moans and the wet sounds of their fucking, the steady thumping each time he thrusted back into her.

Rey feels a sharp tug at her scalp and looks up to meet his eyes one again, nearly swallowed in black desire. Her body is trembling now, walking right back into that precipice with each thrust against her. His rhythm was steady, and he snaked a hand down between them and began to press urgently against her clit.

“You’re going to come again,” he says, and she shakes her head. It was overwhelming, her clit protesting at the overstimulation.

“I can’t”

“It wasn’t a request,” he grunts out, accentuating each with a hard thrust, “You will come for me again, Rey. I want to feel it. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

He continues to press against her clit, flicking it in time with his thrusts and Rey cries out, her body shuddering as her walls clench around his cock, gripping him tightly. “Ben!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Rey.” He groans, thrusting once, twice, three more times before she feels his cock twitching inside her, emptying himself in the condom.

His head rests on her shoulder, breathing heavily while she runs her hands up and down his back. They stayed that way for a while, riding off the high of their coupling.

After a few minutes, she hears him mumble, “You changed the names, you know.”

What? “What?”

“Half-way through your story,” he elaborates, moving so his eyes looked back at hers again, “the names changed from Kylo and Kyra to ours.”

Oh. Oh. She flushed in embarrassment and buried her face at the juncture of his neck. She felt him shake before the sounds of his laughter reached her ears. “It’s not funny,” she grumbled.

“No, it’s not,” he concedes, “More like, adorable.”

It felt like déjà vu all over again and she found herself laughing too, “Is that why you wanted me to come to your office?”

“Partly,” he replied before his hands grip at her shoulders, pushing her slightly so that her head would come back up again. He gave her a smile that she could only interpret as small and hesitant, and she noticed that he had a slight flush to his cheeks as well, “there was also something else.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he replied, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, and Rey leans into his touch, “you typed in that document that the story was a one-shot. I was wondering if maybe I could convince you to turn it into a series.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, registering his words and their meaning before a smile spreads across her face, “I think I could hear your argument for it. But just know that I’m very hard-headed. It may take quite a lot of convincing for me to change my mind.”

His smile grew to match hers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and  moving his hips slightly; letting her feel his cock that was still buried deep within her cunt, “Alright, then I’ll be sure to thoroughly show you why I think you can turn it into a series,”

She moaned, her hands moving up to cup his face within them and pulled him in for another kiss, “Okay, convince me, Professor Solo.”