Ben Solo dreams of the taste of Rey Niima’s cunt. It’s tangy and sweet and it drips down, slow like honey, to the crease of her thighs, pooling on her skin, lapped up by his tongue. He dreams that his mouth sucks at her clit, plump and throbbing; that his lips unfurl the little hood at the top of her vulva, drawing out pitchy whimpers from her throat; that her hands are tied to his bed frame, and his own fingers curl over her legs, pulling them apart, rendering her a trembling slip of a person.
His girl has no choice but to accept the pleasure he offers.
Ben takes whatever he wants, in his dreams.
“I’m leading the debate team this year,” she tells him as they walk down the hallway side by side. He looks down-- far down--at her, slowing to a stop at the water fountain. “Don’t give me that face.”
“The one you always make when you’re thinking condescending thoughts.”
The thing is, he’s not thinking condescending thoughts. If he were, he wouldn’t have such an urge to tell her that she’s too good for the debate team. And the student newspaper. And even their study group.
No, the reality is that Ben Solo is staring at Rey Niima and thinking thoughts of depravity. Does her cum really taste as sweet as it did in his sleep last night? Does it have that musk, the one his subconscious wafts into his nostrils as he drifts in and out of REM?
She’s staring at him, eyes wide like that weird little lemur from the Madagascar movies she made him watch once.
Would she wrap her legs around his neck, or beg him to keep her open?
“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning down to take a drink from the fountain.
“You know I hate it when you curse.” The skin of her nose wrinkles in distaste. “Anyway, I think you should join the team with me.”
Water dribbles out of his mouth when he snorts. “Excuse me?”
“You were a lawyer,” she says, sidling up to him. Ben clenches his fist, because he knows she knows exactly what she’s doing. “I could really use your… expertise, you know.”
“You’re a debate master .”
“I… yeah , I guess I am.”
Ben is but a man, afterall. He’s got urges, needs, fantasies to be fulfilled. Who is he to deny Rey the help she so clearly needs? If it means he can keep sniffing the lemon perfume on her skin, and imagining flipping her skirt up as she bends over a podium, well…
It’s just more creepy fuel for the dreams, he supposes.
And that’s all he has the capability to be: the creep, eight years her senior, waking up soaked in the conclusions of his nightly wet dreams.
“So,” she says, and does he imagine the husky tone of her voice, breathy, like she’s altered it on purpose, just to get more under his skin? “Are you in?”
He thinks it over, reluctant and frustrated and hard in his pants for no other fucking reason than the fact that she’s got drops of water laced across her lips and a British accent begging to be stifled under one of his neck ties.
“Yeah,” Ben says when they start walking toward the study room. “I’m in.”
That night, Rey is mouthing at his cock with her pretty pink lips.
He pries her mouth open and gags her with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him while he presses his dick against her cheek. Every time he bats it on her tongue, little drizzles of spit spill onto her chin, and it’s the most glorious image he’s ever conjured.
“Keep it open,” he orders in a soft murmur, basking in her whimpers. “Let daddy have his fill.”
That’s the worst part of these fantasies: the depraved way he refers to himself as her daddy , dominant and satisfied by the simple idea that their age difference lends itself to a kink he keeps buried in his subconscious. It’s not as if someone as demure as Rey Niima would even let the idea of the dirty talk cross her mind; she’s probably the kind of girl who watches missionary porn on DVD.
But here, she just needs a teacher.
Dream Ben is more than willing to provide that for her.
Dream Ben-- Rey’s daddy-- happily splits her mouth in two, shoving himself down her throat, pulling muffled puffs of air out of her. He’s perfectly satisfied wrapping both hands in her hair at the base of her scalp, fucking her mouth like it’s her soft cunt.
Normally, he wants to make it so she can’t walk straight the next day; right now, he wants to make her lose her voice for a week.
He wakes before he can see the vision come to fruition.
There’s a big problem when it comes to Ben spending time with Rey, especially when it’s happening hours after waking from the most erotic dream of his life.
That problem, unsurprisingly, is his penis.
She’s hardly ever blatantly, intentionally sexy , but of course that doesn’t matter when the girl in question is constantly leaning her cardigan clad tits over his lap, pointing out aspects of their potential debate arguments on a sheet of paper. His memories are incessant, plaguing him with flashbacks to the time she dressed in a ridiculous Santa Claus outfit, skirt short and bodice low. Something is sizzling in the back of his mind, an urge to push their textbooks off the table and shove his face right in her cleavage.
It’s disgusting and he hates himself for it, because it means that, whether he likes it or not, his cock strains against his pants and he has no choice but to hide it with clenched fists.
“So,” she says, matter-of-factly, pulling him back into reality. “Our biggest competition is an absolute monster.”
“Oh?” He’s lucky he’s able to feign interest so easily.
“I mean, I guess he’s kind of like you, if you were in a wheelchair and he was once a lawyer.”
“So you mean, we’re nothing alike at all.”
Rey rolls her eyes. “Sure, that’s why I said he’s kind of like you.”
“Do we even know the topic we’re debating?”
“Yes!” she squeals, clapping her hands together. Ben represses the urge to groan while she enunciates each word with a dramatic gesture in the air. “Is man evil, or good?”
“Please tell me we’re debating that man is--”
So maybe he can do this, afterall.
He dreams that he rips her stupid purple cardigan right off her body.
He dreams that the seams burst and scraps of fabric fall to her feet, and he dreams that nothing is underneath the sweater, just the bare skin of her perky tits.
They beg for his attention, her rosy nipples. Who can blame him for pressing his mouth against them, peppering chaste little kisses around her areolas until she’s a squirming, panting mess, pinned under his body? He feels himself combust when his tongue darts out and flicks against the hardened tips of her breasts; he sucks one into his mouth and swirls around it, devouring her whole, watching her eyes squeeze shut in search for something to tether her to reality.
She shakes around him.
He comes, hard and fast and a lot, in his boxers.
He wakes up.
It’s Debate Day at the illustrious gymnasium of Naboo Community College, and that can only mean one thing: blazers, and lots of them.
Don’t get him wrong, Ben Solo takes no pride in his school. Naboo Community College is the last place he wanted to be, and the last place he expected banishment to, when his law degree was snatched from his cold, might-as-well-have-been-dead hands a year ago. The blue and white banners adorning the walls make him have to repress bitter gags, and he cannot believe that he’s watching his very friendly dean, self-nicknamed C3PO for no other reason than it “cements his position as the dopest dean in the city,” nearly brawl with Cloud City College’s equally lame leader.
But alas, here he is, satisfied to be staring at Rey Niima in her bright blue blazer from TJMaxx, a black suit jacket of his own buttoned over a sweater.
“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” she drawls when she finally sees him from across the room. “A suit jacket and everything. A remnant of those corporate days?”
He clears his throat. “Just had it lying around.”
“Mm.” She pats his chest, cocks her head at him. “Feels like it cost a thousand dollars.”
You lowballed it, he almost says, catching himself as his heart thuds in his chest, a warm reminder that she touched him and he’s still alive.
“Our competition is there,” she says, stepping back, an unfamiliar smirk on her face as she points to a man in a wheelchair, bright red hair slicked back into a ratty ponytail. “Armitage Hux. I’ve been pouring over his videos all night. He doesn’t hold back. I hope you’ve prepared.”
“Have I ever not?”
Rey narrows her eyes; she even plants two fists against her hips, leaning all her weight to the left.
So fucking hot.
Ben doesn’t want to be popping boners in the middle of the gym, surrounded by the smell of cheap nachos. Really, he doesn’t.
But when she’s looking at him like that?
Like she wants to rip his face off, like his existence is the bane of her own?
He can’t help but want to prove that he can make it all worthwhile. That yeah, okay, he’s a fucking dickwad, but he can also make her orgasm a Guiness World Record number of times, and doesn’t that make all of her exasperation towards him worth it?
Shifting a little on his feet, he shakes his head, hoping to turn her attention away from his shame before she looks down. It’s not exactly subtle.
“Alrighty, folks!” C3PO announces from across the room, and Ben exhales a sigh of relief when Rey perks up and makes her way to their side of the makeshift stage. “Let’s get this ball rolling! We’ll start with opening statements from Cloud City College.” He glares at Armitage as he wheels to the front of the stage, and shoots a wink at Ben.
Then Armitage Hux begins, and Ben Solo realizes that Rey was right: this fucking guy, with his disgusting ponytail, is a debate monster.
“He’s good,” Ben can’t help but murmur at Rey, squinting at Hux as he smirks towards them.
Rey huffs. “Not that good. I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.”
She takes her place up on stage.
And Ben decides, maybe they have a chance.
“Man bred dogs for companionship, a symbiotic relationship cultivated by our desire for love, which we also offer unconditionally! Man is good!”
“Man breeds dogs today to fight, for nothing but monetary wealth, not ‘unconditional love.’ We let them bleed for our own benefit! Man is evil!”
“Man harnessed nature for our survival--we have made food accessible for all. Man is good! ”
“Man commodified food, and lets half the world starve while throwing away an insurmountable amount every single day. Man is evil!”
“Dean C3PO held open the door for me, a man in a wheelchair, upon my arrival here! Man is good! ”
“Dean C3PO held the door open only so he didn’t feel guilty for not doing so--it was purely selfish. Man is evil!”
“Man picks up the feces of our dogs, so that other people do not step in it. Man is--”
“We’re back to dogs, again? You pick up your dog’s poop?” Rey looks directly at the judges’ table, lips twitching into a sly grin. “ I certainly don’t. Man is evil!”
Ben is out of breath by the time Cloud City College’s final rebuttal is upon them.
He’s mesmerized by the girl in front of him, poised and elegant, lobbing arguments left and right at an equally prepared Hux. There’s barely a chance for him to keep up, distracted as he is watching her. He tries his best, and manages to get a couple of good quips in, cementing their status as the frontrunners.
“We are killing it! ” she squeals with a hushed tone in the final moments before Hux’s last turn. “We are so in sync, Ben, it’s like--like, like Bert and Ernie, or--”
“Bert and Ernie?” he asks, face scrunching up in confused disgust. And maybe even a little bit of arousal. Don’t Bert and Ernie sleep in the same bed?
“Or great se--”
“Cloud City College, your final rebuttal?” C3PO interrupts, leaving Ben a flustered, red mess, pondering the words starting with ‘se’ that she possibly could have been aiming to finish.
“What’s Hux doing?” Ben’s still staring down at her as she glances up at him. “Ben, what is he doing ?”
The hiss in her voice, muted only because of the sound of whatever she’s staring at, is enough to jostle his attention up to where the man in question is fiddling with the gear stick of his wheelchair. Hux captures Ben’s gaze, his eyes stony and narrowed, mouth fixed into a mirthful smirk, as he speeds his wheelchair down the center of the stage, stopping himself as suddenly as it all began, launching into the air.
It’s like it happens in slow motion.
One moment, Ben is facing Rey entirely, and the next he is taking an unconscious step, holding his arms out, catching Hux with a whoosh of air.
Ben feels Hux’s legs hang limply at his own thighs, and he breathes in the smell of cheap hairspray, before it’s all broken.
“He caught me,” Hux announces, voice stoic, “in spite of his hatred for me. Man… is good!”
That’s when he feels a pair lips on his. Soft lips, accompanied by dainty hands pressed against either cheek, a tongue prodding against his own. He drops Hux like he’s on fire, hardly registering the thud his body makes on the ground, because all that matters is it’s Rey, Rey Niima , kissing him , and his hands are wrapped around her waist, gripping her hips, and it’s everything he never knew he needed, and how did he not dream of this in all of his nights knowing her, and--
And it’s over as soon as it started, enunciated by a loud, “Ben dropped Hux because he was horny!”
Ben is bewildered, staring down at Hux, expression mirroring his own; he feels his face heat up, his pants, once a- fucking -gain, tight around his crotch. It’s all he can do to keep up with her, because who knew Rey Niima had something like this in her?
“ Man is evil!” she concludes with a victorious grin.
The meager crowd in the bleachers erupts. He sees Poe and Finn and Rose rise to their feet to cheer and clap--and the sound is too much, her lips were too much, it’s all too much --
So he runs.
“Ben!” he hears her shout after him. His heavy footsteps echo in the empty hallway, but the pitter patter of hers overwhelms him, and he slows to a stop just before he reaches the exit. “Ben!”
She’s out of breath when she catches up, leaning her hands on her knees. “You,” she grounds out between pants, “are--holy shit --a fucking giant with fucking giant footsteps--Jesus Christ--”
“What do you want, Rey?”
“What do I want?” Her eyes dart up to his, dazed and confused. “We just won! And you ran away? What do you mean, what do I want?”
“You think we won that ?” he asks. The sharpness of his tone makes her flinch; he immediately regrets it.
“Fair and square? Since when do you stoop to people like Hux’s level?”
“Can’t believe you’d use me like that--”
“ Use you ?”
“Like I was just a fucking prop --”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Ben?”
“You kissed me!” he shouts. “You kissed me, and it meant absolutely nothing to you, and how could you do something like that to me? ”
“It--” Rey starts, looking down at her feet and back up. “It meant something to you ?”
“Of course it meant something to me, Rey! You can’t stand there and pretend you haven’t seen it this entire last year! You think I’d join the debate team for just anyone in our study group? I did it because you asked me to! Because I wanted to spend time with-- oomf --”
The seconds that pass between snapping in her face and her crashing into him are incomprehensible, really. How is he supposed to parse out how it happened, when it’s still happening?
For a second time.
A second, glorious time.
On stage when she’d kissed him, he’d tasted something bitter, like the motivations behind her movements were fueled by something impure, black licorice melting on a hot summer day, overrun by ants and buzzing flies. It’d been life altering, sure, and certainly it was the second best moment of his life, if you didn’t think about the way she’d denounced him as a simple, horny, evil man to a crowd of people. But there’d been something icky about it too, that made his skin crawl, that made him run away in the first place.
This is nothing like that.
This is a monsoon rain on a hot summer day, cold drops of water breaking high temperatures, the smell of dew on grass illuminating his senses. It’s the view from Naboo’s highest hill, green all before him, a breeze catching light on the leaves.
He feels himself become a different man.
She licks inside his mouth and scrambles at his shoulders, pushing him until he bumps against a wall, sending papers from the bulletin board flying.
“Ow,” he mutters.
“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound very sorry, but he doesn’t mind. “I--do you--”
“Should we find an empty classroom? Yes. Please. Now.”
He’s struck with an odd thought that he definitely shouldn’t be voicing as she jiggles doorknobs to find an open abandoned classroom, but Ben’s never been one for censorship, so out comes: “Do you watch porn?”
Her wrist freezes on a knob, and she spins to face him fully. “Who doesn’t?”
“What kind of porn do you watch?”
“What kind of porn do you think I watch?”
He shrugs, releases a meek, “Missionary?”
“Euch,” Rey scoffs. She looks radiant, furious at him like this. “I’ll watch anything. What kind of porn do you watch?”
“I dunno.” When Rey plants two fists on her hips, he backtracks. “Anything, too.”
“Good.” Ben doesn’t know who this woman in front of him is; the Rey he’s familiar with isn’t particularly forthcoming about her darker side… unless he counts the Santa debacle, which he totally does. “I guess that means we can do anything, then.”
The door before them opens, and it’s like a light from heaven is shining down upon them: their sex chamber awaits.
Rey wastes no time pouncing again; she jumps up and he catches her around the base of her thighs, and they’re sucking at each other’s lips again.
“Thought about this,” he says between kisses, “so much.”
“Always. Dream about it.”
He moves them to the desk at the front, plopping her down with a very graceful “hmph.”
“You dream about this?” she asks while he peppers kisses down her neck.
“Every single night.” He reaches her collarbone, nibbles at it, basking in her groan. “Wake up covered in my cum to the thought of your tits in my mouth.”
“What else happens in your dreams?” She’s breathless and stunning, head tossed back but eyes wide open. Suddenly, she slinks to her knees, and looks up at him with her lips tilted in a smirk. “Do I ever do this?”
His breath catches as she toys with his belt, unlooping it from its buckle. “The things I think about doing with the belt, Rey…”
“And I can be depraved, too, you know.” The belt is off, somehow in his hands. “Show me what you want to do with it.”
She’s not even naked, yet. Not one article of clothing is off of her, but he’s harder than he has ever been in his entire stupid life. He’s standing in front of her, and he can feel her breath through his boxers, pants unbuckled and fly open because of her .
And here she is, wanting him to use his belt the way he’s been desperate to since the day he saw her.
So he wraps it around her neck, tapers it off when it’s just on the verge of tautness, and pulls her into his clothed crotch.
“Is that what you want?” he hisses. “To be degraded, to be used like a whore?”
“Please,” she whimpers.
He scrambles to pull his boxers down, let his bopping cock out. There’s a moment where she just stares, eyes wide and shocked, and it satisfies him as much as any of his hundreds of dreams before have. More so, even.
“Open your mouth.”
She’s the most obedient little thing, even sticking out her tongue. He bats his cock on it, watching lines of spit pull away from her lips. When his cock sheathes itself in her mouth, following her tongue, he swears he could die at that moment and find comfort in the fact that he led a life worth living.
She gags around him; he tightens the belt, just barely.
“Okay?” he asks.
She nods, takes more of him, more than he ever thought possible.
Control is a hard thing for him, always has been. He’s losing it, right now, testing her with a couple of thrusts, being met with moans and gags. He can’t help it, and who can blame him, when she looks up at him, arching an eyebrow in a silent dare? The belt gives him a leverage that his nightly fantasies never afforded, letting him fuck her mouth with all the force he’s wanted, and she takes it all, his girl, soaked in her own spit, the white of her shirt damp at her chest.
It’s an accident, a Freudian slip, he’ll swear by it till his last day, but it still emerges from his babbles, a clear: “Such a good girl for daddy.”
But he doesn’t expect the, “Mhm, mhm,” coming from her right after, just as she presses her nose to his pelvis.
With a wet pop, Ben slides Rey’s mouth off of him.
“Need to taste you,” he says, pulling her to the feet with his belt, licking slopping kisses against any bit of her skin he can. “Need to, please, can I, Rey?”
“You’re seriously asking?” she murmurs. “Please, fuck, Ben.”
The leather is still wrapped around her neck, hanging limply as she leans back against the desk, spreading her legs wide without prompting.
Ben slides her pants off in one fell swoop, has the gusset of her Sock Monkey (fucking Sock Monkey ) panties hooked to the side with a finger, and buries his face in her cunt.
She bucks into him, gasps, shrieks.
His tongue runs through her folds, no signs of delicacy to be found; now, he decides, is not the time for slow. He flicks against her clit, curls his lips around the hood, just the way he always wanted to, and it is fucking everything . Wet slick spreads against his chin and cheeks, he can feel it dripping into his neck, and he cannot believe what’s happening right now: that she’s as soaked as she is, that her fingers are running through his hair in tight balls, that her legs are spread wide and pinned under his arms.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she whimpers, and does she have any idea what that’s doing to him? Does she know that she’ll be the death of him? “Daddy, fuck, I can’t believe you’re licking my fucking pussy , holy fucking shit, daddy.”
He feels her clench around him, two fingers shoved up her cunt. Her legs tremble against his hands, her words devolve into quiet whimpers, and she’s coming, coming, coming on his eager tongue.
Ben can’t get enough of her.
He tells her as much, rising up and curling around her body, nipping at her tits when he bares them to the air.
“Such a naughty girl,” he murmurs in her ear. “Coming all over me, calling me daddy. Such a slut. How do sluts get fucked, Rey?”
“I--” she starts, clearly still trying to get her bearings. “How-however you want…”
“Yeah? However daddy wants?”
“Yes, please, do whatever you want, daddy.”
“Good.” Sliding his hands around her hips, he shifts her over to her stomach. “I like hearing that. That I can take whatever I want.”
He’s throbbing against her, running his dick through her folds, basking in the image.
“I--” she hiccups. “I have an IUD. And… I’m clean--you--”
“Me too,” he says, spreading a hand across her shoulder blades. “Are you sure?”
“I’m going to die if you don’t, daddy.”
His girl, always a dramatic one; the remnant of pre-fucked, pre-orgasmed Rey consumes him, and he finds himself grinning despite the head of his cock entering her.
He can practically feel her vibrating around his dick as he bottoms out; she whimpers, and clutches a hand to his thigh, and it’s his cue to not hold back.
“Such a tight fucking cunt, Rey,” he grounds out through clenched teeth, thrusting in a mimic ten times what the blowjob was. “Loose mouth and tight cunt, just what daddy wants it to be, baby. Just--”
“Perfect,” she breathes out. “Fucking perfect.”
It’s a wonder he’s lasted this long, at all. He feels his orgasm pulsing in his balls as they slap against her ass, and he knows he’s got to feel her come around his dick, because what if this is the last time, his only chance to experience it all? So he rallies, slows just slightly, presses his thumb against her clit and rubs in tight circles just to get her to writhe against him.
“Daddy, I--” she starts, stops with a gasp. “Ben, I’m going to--holy fucking shit-- Ben--”
She explodes around him in a way he didn’t think was possible. Her legs shake, and he has to prop her up when she goes limp against his chest.
It’s the most glorious thing in the entire world, coming inside of her sated pussy. He thrusts harder, yells against her neck, chasing the sensation for as long as he can stand it.
They come back to the world together, slowly, like one would wake up on a lazy Sunday morning.
She smiles up at him.
He grins back.
“Bet you’re glad we beat Hux now, huh?”
He decides then and there that he’ll be joining the newspaper team.
Anything to be with her more.
That night, Ben Solo dreams that Rey Niima is wrapped around him in his bed.
He wakes the next morning, and, for the first time since meeting her, his dream is a reality.