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It’s time.
It all began as a mere fantasy on the day when she moved in, but it has grown into an absolute obsession during the past year.
They’re not a couple, and that’s part of the problem.
Ben Solo hasn’t as much as kissed her, even though they spend most weeknights lounging in the same couch, and most weekends partying together until they’re drunk out of their minds.
She’s done waiting. It’s time to act. But oblivion is key to her fantasy, and that’s another part of the problem.
The dream had shifted into a plan when Rey bought a set of new linens for her bed, printed with pink roses climbing among dark green leaves. Now, her outfit awaits her in its box, the expensive Swedish vodka she’s never been able to handle patiently lurks in the bottom drawer of their freezer, and she spent yesterday evening rigging her new surveillance camera onto the wall opposite from her bed. She stayed up far too late, experimenting with angles and settings, the entire time with a scorching heat throbbing in her thighs. It’s not normal, she understands as much, but it can not be helped.
She wants what she wants.
The white cotton chemise is indecently soft against Rey’s skin. Dressing up for a party always offers a certain kind of high, but it’s nothing compared to the high of dressing up to lure a boy into fucking you while you sleep.
Next, there’s the baby blue skirt, flowing over the puffy chemise like water on oil, and then, her crowning jewel, the black corset.
Who knew she even had the resemblance of boobs?
She decides against wearing the blonde wig, it’s too plastic and itchy to stand for more than three seconds at the time, and curls her bangs and the ends of her own hair inwards instead. Rey finishes her do off with a velvet headband, tightens the straps of her heels around her ankles, paints her lashes black as death, and her lips as red as blood.
She’s ready.
“Happy Halloween!” Ben beams as she emerges from her room, “Oh, fuck, you look good.”
“Thanks, Ben. You too.”
He truly does, in his pitch black padded tunic and heavy leather boots. Not that she’s particularly surprised, it was Rey who talked him into dressing up as the villain from her favorite movie Galaxy Battles . They stare at each other for a few charged seconds, and just when his lips part to say something else, the doorbell rings.
It’s a good party. All of their friends are there, and some who probably aren’t anyone's friends. The costumes are on point, the alcohol is drowning them all, the music is loud and Ben has just ceased the opportunity to pull Rey into his lap. It’s not the first time, he does it every now and then, but only when he’s so drunk he’s started to discuss politics. He keeps her steady by cradling her thigh, and the heat of his palm radiates through all of her layers, burning hot against the skin beneath the fabric.
She wants that hand everywhere.
“Remind me,” he murmurs in her ear, “who are you supposed to be?”
“Aurora.”
“A… princess?”
“Do I look like one?”
A smirk plays over his mouth, and Rey’s heart stutters in her chest.
“You do.”
“She is a princess,” Rey shrugs, “Sleeping beauty, you know?”
“Ah, yes. The one who slept until the prince gave her a kiss?”
His lips almost touch her ear at his last word, and Rey’s fingers cling harder to her bottle of vodka.
This is it. This is her window.
“Yes,” she agrees, “but I’ve always found that a bit odd.”
“Huh? Him kissing her?”
Rey swallows another, rather impressive, gulp of vodka, before answering:
“That he didn’t fuck her before waking her up.”
Ben frowns and leans back ever so slightly.
“What?”
“Seems like a missed opportunity to me,” Rey struggles to keep her voice sounding indifferent, “he could’ve at least checked to see if she had any panties on.”
“Panties?” Ben repeats in obvious confusion.
“Don’t you know? Sleeping without panties on is code for…” Rey catches his eye, “do whatever.”
She takes another sip from her bottle, to keep the scorching embarrassment from killing her.
“I don’t think that’s— are you drinking that Swedish shit that always makes you pass out?”
Concern lace his voice, and Rey tilts the bottle slightly, showing him the label.
“It is. Sometimes you just need to know you’re going to get a good night’s sleep, you know?”
“Is that… wise?”
Rey grins and nods.
“I think it is.”
His big hand squeezes her thigh as he smiles back at her.
“You can have whatever you want, Princess.”
🌹
Rey’s seeing double, and everything’s spinning wildly when she eventually makes her way back to her room, and she just barely remembers to leave her lights on, and yank her panties off, before dropping to her stomach on top of her covers, still in full costume. She shuffles around a little, to make sure the skirts aren’t covering too much of her legs and a few moments later, she’s claimed by darkness.
🌹
“Shit…”
Her outfit from last night is wrinkled beyond recognition, and it clings uncomfortably to her sweaty skin. Rey untangles the garments off her body in a state of half-panic, desperate to be free, and yanks an over-sized tee over her head. The world spins violently, threatening to throw her to the floor.
“Shit,” she repeats.
“Rey?” Ben calls from outside her door, “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she doesn’t mean to sob, but she does.
The door slams open the next second, and Ben strides two steps into her room with shoulders pulled forward, as if he’s prepared to fight someone. His eyes flicker over her face.
“Are you hurt?”
“Hurt? No, I’m just incredibly hungover.”
Rey feels as if she shoved her head through a wringer last night, before getting hit by a truck. She probably looks like it, too.
“You sure?” Ben lifts a hand in her general direction, before awkwardly dropping it back down.
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s just… I probably shouldn’t drink that vodka. It always makes me pass out, just like you said.”
“Right,” a slight blush crawls over Ben’s cheeks, “and… did you… pass out?”
“Guess so,” Rey shrugs, “I was still wearing my outfit when I woke up. Even the shoes.”
Rey points to her feet, gesturing to the heels she still hasn’t had the time to remove.
“But you’re okay?”
“Okay? No, I’m hungover like a fucking pig, Solo.”
“Yes, yes, but—” Ben shifts his weight between his feet, “Do you want some waffles?”
“Oh. That’s so sweet.”
“Anything for my prince—” Ben chomps down on his lush lip instead of finishing his sentence, and bolts for the door.
“Thank you!”
He’s being weirder than usual, and memories of last night rapidly fill Rey’s misty head, without any consideration to how bad it aches.
The dress, the sheets, the vodka, his lap, his hand on her thigh, her hint, his whatever you want…
Princess.
Rey slides a hand in between her legs, and finds a dry crust covering the insides of her thighs. Her heart flutters with excitement.
Did notorious good boy Ben Solo truly misbehave?
All she wants is to go back to bed and see what her camera caught, but Ben insists on doting on her like she’s a sick child on her deathbed. After the waffles he ushers her into the shower, then joins her on the coach, and he doesn’t even object when she once again pops her ancient copy of Pride and Prejudice into the DVD-player. Instead, he pours her a bowl of cheese doodles, stays awake for the entire movie, and only leaves his seat once, to grab Rey an Aspirin and a massive glass of ice water. It’s late afternoon, when Ben excuses himself.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go help mom with her groceries…”
“That’s right, your dad’s out of town, right?”
“Yeah… are you gonna be alright? I won’t be gone long.”
“Ben, I’m not actually sick, you know.”
“I know,” a pink tint blooms over his deliciously high cheekbones, “you need anything?”
“Pepsi Max, please.”
“Consider it done, Princess.”
Ben’s face distorts in confusion when he once again catches himself calling her Princess.
“Thank you, kind Sir,” Rey teases, “that’s good of you.”
“See you… later,” Ben mumbles, and a few minutes later, the apartment falls blissfully silent.
Rey races to the front door, making sure it’s properly locked, and then heads to her room. She crawls into bed, unlocks her phone, and opens the app to her camera. To make sure she wouldn’t miss anything crucial, Rey kept the thing running throughout the entire night, which means there’s over six hours of material to go through, but Rey’s certain she wasn’t in bed before two in the morning, so she jumps ahead to the 2 a.m mark, before pushing the fast forward-button.
There’s nothing to see, but her turning her head a single time, for over 90 minutes worth of footage.
Of course there isn’t.
Ben Solo is the kind of man who could ever—
Rey hits pause, with such force she accidentally drops the phone into her lap, as she suddenly spots a beam of light moving over her sleeping body. She eagerly fishes it back up, and pushes play. The beam of light comes from the hallway outside her room, and it disappears again as Ben fucking Solo closes her door behind him. He’s dressed in nothing but his pajamas-pants, the ones he always wears while they watch TV.
God, the man’s built like a brickhouse.
A sting of guilt pieces through Rey’s giddy thoughts; he didn’t sign up to be recorded, after all.
Then again, he is the one who spent the night ogling an unconscious woman.
The recording shows Ben pacing back and forth by the foot of her bed, before coming to a swift halt, and leaning in over the bed.
“Rey?” he whispers, “Are you up?”
Clearly, the sleeping version of Rey is the direct opposite of ‘up’, and sure enough, that’s the conclusion Ben seems to reach as well. He leans back up, and starts pacing again.
“Fuck…” he mutters while running his hands through his hair, “fuck.”
“Come on, Solo,” Rey whispers to her tiny screen.
“Panties…” he mumbles.
He leans back in, and pinches the two skirts between his fingers. The skirts just barely lift off of her skin, and Ben leans to his side to peek in under them. The footage doesn’t quite catch what it is he’s seeing, but he nods curtly to himself, before letting go of the skirts.
Rey’s mouth dries out entirely, as she watches Ben slide a hand over his groin. He was in her bedroom last night, peeked under her skirts, and got hard.
“Come on… go on,” she urges quietly, as if whatever Ben did to her last night isn't already in the past.
The small Ben on her phone sighs loudly, and runs a finger down Rey’s leg. When he reaches the strap of her shoe, he pauses, draws a half circle around her ankle, and slides his finger up her leg again. All the way up to her skirts.
Another pause.
Another defeated sigh.
And then, Ben hooks his finger under the garments, folding them upward and baring her behind.
“Fuck me…” Ben wheezes.
“Yes,” Rey’s too spellbound by what she’s watching to realize she’s still talking to herself, “please.”
Ben touches his groin again, determinedly grasping his junk through the fabric, and Rey rewinds those few seconds three times before allowing the video to continue.
Then there’s a flash.
“Shit!” Ben yelps, “Shit, shit, shit.”
Did the man just show the audacity to snap a photo of her?
He’s far worse than she’s given him credit for.
There’s a picture of her naked ass on his phone. Right this second.
Her head swims.
Ben tosses his phone on the bed, and sinks down, carefully moving in between her slightly parted legs. He uses his knees, while resting his weight on his hands level to her shoulders, one at the time, to nudge hers further to the sides, ever so slowly, until he’s able to settle between her knees.
“This is bad,” he tells himself, “so bad.”
Is his hand… trembling?
Rey rewatches the sequence where Ben reaches for her ass one more time, and his left hand definitely did tremble, just before it reached its destination. His spread fingers sink into her flesh, pausing there for a second, before they firmly squeeze together.
His hesitation seems to melt away as he touches her skin, and with a new sense of curiosity, he allows his right hand to mirror his left.
She’s always suspected he’s an ass man, and while the angle of the video doesn’t provide a clean shot at his face, she sees enough of his profile so spots his smug grin as he kneads her behind with his big, stupid hands.
His right thumb brushes along the crease where her buttocks meet her thigh, innocently enough the first time, but the second time, that thumb of his practically brushes up against her labia. His left hand squeezes her ass again as he shoves his right hand, almost angrily, down his pants, freeing his dick from its flannel confinements.
Rey almost walked in on him once, well, she did, but he still doesn’t know about it, when he was showering, so she knew he wouldn’t be small, but this… she hadn’t expected this.
Ben seems to hesitate again, just slowly pumping his hand up and down while staring down at her. Rey holds her breath. Did his conscience kick back in? She should be happy. She has footage of him touching himself, every muscle of his back flexing along the movements of his arm while touching her, but it’s not enough. She’s not satisfied. She’s desperate.
“Please,” she repeats to her screen, “it’s okay.”
Ben’s hand stops moving, and he sits so still between her legs, kneeling as if in prayer, that Rey wonders if the camera might have stopped working.
“Princess…” he sighs, “God, you’re gorgeous.”
“What—”
Rey’s mouth hangs open, as he slides both of his hands in under her hip bones while his thumbs push into her buttocks, to tilt her entire pelvis forward, exposing her even further.
He’s a bad, bad man.
And she loves it.
Her insides have melted, there’s nothing of any use left inside of her, all she is, is want.
“Perfect…” Ben mutters at his new view.
He plants his left hand on top of her ass to prevent her from relaxing back into her previous position, and his right… His goddamn right index finger sinks into her. Rey squirms, pathetically rubbing her thighs together, already excited to watch this moment again, and again, and again.
There’s wonder to be found in his softly illuminated side profile.
He’s beautiful.
Rey hates how beautiful he is, without being hers.
Hates how she’s not allowed to touch those cheeks, count those moles and marks, kiss the tip of that long nose, or nibble her way down that throat.
He retreats his finger, before sliding it back in. The next time he pulls back, he adds a second one and slowly fucks her with them both for at least a few minutes. He hardly blinks while watching his fingers disappear inside of her, over and over again. In truth, Rey doesn’t blink much either.
Ben’s head suddenly falls back, and his black eyes threaten to stare a hole straight through the ceiling above him. His chest and back expand as he inhales sharply, before slowly letting the air escape him once more. His eyes fall shut.
Another inhale.
Another exhale.
His eyes snap open again.
Beneath the waffles and the foot rubs, beyond the secret emergency chocolate he stores for her in his sock drawer and their late-night chats, there’s a trapped animal, and the man on the video she’s watching is the beast below it all.
“I’m going to hell for this one…”
His left hand is still firmly keeping her in place, and he scoots a few inches back, before grabbing hold of himself.
Rey’s breathing is just barely sufficient to provide enough oxygen for her to stay conscious. Nothing she’s ever pictured throughout the hundreds of nights she’s fingered herself to the idea of Ben fucking her compare to watching him actually do it. He moves carefully, as he lines himself up, and begins to slowly push into her. It’s just the tip at first, then a bit more, and a bit more, and Rey blushes harder than she’s ever done in her life, as she watches her own flesh stretch for him.
“Fuck, you’re tight, Princess,” Ben grunts, “fuck!”
Minutes pass, before he bottoms out and settles inside of her, still kneeling between her thighs. He pulls out, and then back in.
She’s a ragdoll in his hands.
It’s mesmerizing to watch him… use her, just taking whatever he wants, however he wants it, with such awe written in his every move. Rey can’t remember who she is anymore, not when every inch of her is throbbing, even parts of her she never even knew had a pulse beats steadily. Greedily.
The next time he pulls out, he adjusts his position, planting his hands up by her head, and his next thrust is far more forceful than his previous ones.
“Fuck,” he moans, “you have no idea… how long I’ve waited…”
How long he has waited? What about how long she has waited?
The Rey on the screen stirs slightly, and Ben freezes above her. Real-life Rey clenches her jaw, willing her former self not to blow this for her. Not now.
“Ben…?” she mumbles.
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me,” Ben whispers back, “it’s okay, I’m almost done.”
“Alright…”
Ben doesn’t move again for a couple of minutes, and Rey’s heart is about to drill its way through her chest. Is he… waiting for her to fall back asleep?
“There, Princess,” he finally says, “gonna fill you up now, okay?”
Rey’s hand flies down her underwear, as Ben Solo unleashes as much of himself as he dares, taking as much as he can, while still being careful enough not to wake her up again.
She wants all of it. She needs all of it.
“God,” they both whimper in unison.
Ben folds himself over her body, covers her with him, burrows his face into her hair and neck, and comes with an unintelligible cry. Rey follows him, falling freely for the sweetest of seconds.
There’s a shift in his demeanor now, and Rey forces herself out of her hazy afterglow to catch what’s happening. Ben pushes himself up on his hands and presses a kiss on an exposed sliver of skin on her shoulder.
“Night, Princess,” he tells her, “Thank you.”
The last thing Ben does, before leaving her room, is to rearrange her skirts and cover her sleeping form with the blanket he finds hanging over her chair.
“I’m home!”
“Hi!” Rey calls back, “How was your mom?”
“Good. What about you? You okay?”
“I’m better. But tired.”
Rey has to use every theatrical bone in her body not to burst out laughing as Ben’s face changes color again. For how long could she torment him with this? How often could she drop random sleep-related words, before he started to catch on? It’s tempting to put it to the test, but Rey has other priorities to consider.
“So… you’re heading to bed?”
“Yep,” Rey nods, “I know it’s early but I’m completely spent. Night, Ben.”
“Night, Princess.”
This time, Rey can’t keep from smiling.
Settled in below her rosy sheets, she texts him:
Come back to me. Tonight.
🌹