Chapter Text
Rey felt tiny in his oversized leather chairs, just like she always did when she found herself trapped in his office like a criminal being questioned, and the feeling always intensified by the criticism she inevitably faced.
It was a bit too cold in the office, her editor had always had a penchant for the air conditioner, silence filled the room, with only the occasional sound of a computer mouse scrolling and a typo being fixed with the clicking of keys to warm her ears.
Rey had folded her legs in front of her, sinking into the comfortable seat and chewing at the side of her thumbnail, as she watched as Ben Solo, her editor, sat opposite his glass desk in a matching chair, holding his head in his hands as he squinted at his computer
Since she had been assigned to him, when the ink on the contract of her first book deal was still wet, she had gaped as she shook his hand. He didn’t look like the type to edit romance novels for a living. However, after extensive research (googling his name whilst drinking cheap wine on her couch), Rey was proven wrong by his seemingly neverending list of New York Times bestsellers.
The man was good at his job, even if he looked more like a politician than the editor of soon-to-be a Netflix original Two’s Company starring Lucy Hale and James Marsden.
Despite his qualifications, it was still daunting to simply sit in silence as Ben Solo, way too attractive for his own good, all big hands, crooked nose, and messy hair, meticulously combed through a sex scene from the mind of an admittedly horny (and less experienced than she’d like) Rey.
She wondered if he knew, whilst he was reviewing her work, she wondered if he knew that he was the one she was thinking about as she penned her protagonist taking her boss’s cock in his office.
For the sake of her dignity, she hoped not.
He huffed, his only indication that he had finished reading the chapter.
“Is it…” Rey began, shifting in her seat to sit in a more traditional position, she coughed once as she tried to lose the waver in her voice, “Is it good? Is it okay?”
He studied her for a moment, his full lips pursed and his face unreadable.
“It’s…” he paused to think and Rey gulped, he was never the easiest to read but the suspense made it worse, “It’s a sex scene.”
Her brows furrowed.
“Yeah I know,” she quirked her head and tried not to blush, hiding her embarrassment and confusion with sarcasm, “I wrote it.”
“Let me rephrase,” he leaned into her across the desk, only slightly, yet Rey felt the skin get warmer as the distance grew smaller, “You have your two characters pining after each other for months, they want each other more than anything, chapters and chapters of longing and glances and hand touches, and it finally happens and that’s it. All this suspense and longing is built up, all this tension. And then they fuck.”
Rey looked at him with a confused face but he didn’t budge, she tilted her head back in her seat tired of the cryptic way in which he gave her notes.
“Yes they fuck!” she exclaimed, admittedly a bit half-hearted, “What’s the issue?”
Rey had forgotten, perhaps due to her fantasies, that despite wanting to ride her editor silly, working with him wasn’t nearly as fun.
“The issue,” Ben began, “Is that all that longing, all that tension, just disappears.”
“I mean yeah,” Rey laughed, a deep throaty laugh, “They’re a bit preoccupied.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” she swallowed.
“The banter, the wanting, the intensity that’s defined their relationship,” his eyes darted to the ceiling as he searched for words, “This scene is silent and formulaic, it’s like you know how to write the build-up to a romance but you can’t follow it through.”
Ouch.
Rey tried not to take it personally, having someone critique your writing was always intimate, but this was, well, worse.
“Have you never had someone talk to you during sex Rey?” he asked, as though it was the most casual of topics.
Rey almost choked on thin air.
“I mean yeah,” she frowned after regaining her ability to breathe, “I’ve had some sweaty guy whisper shit like gonna fuck you and can I cum on your tits?”
She lowered her voice to impersonate her disappointing lovers.
He quirked a brow at her, leaning back into his chair and pressed his mouth into a thin line.
“It’s not exactly attractive and that’s why I didn’t include it,” she defended, returning to her usual tone.
Ben Solo was staring into hers in a way that made her feel naked and vulnerable, his forehead creased in an unreadable expression.
“Well that’s just sad,” he decided.
Rey scoffed.
“If you want this scene to be believable, if you want your readers to recommend your books to your friends, and to tweet about it like its the Holy Grail, you’re going to have to learn to learn how to write dirty talk, even if your own experiences are…disappointing.”
Rey had forgotten how annoying and could be when he wasn’t busy being tall and attractive, it was the reason she almost didn’t want to work with him, despite the stupidly high success record of his authors.
“You’re my editor,” Rey pointed out, trying to ignore the criticism which was starting to feel a little bit personal, “Help me.”
He cleared his throat and rolled his chair back on the hardwood floor a few inches as he took a deep breath before pulling the chair back in.
“Go home,” he finally instructed, not exactly sounding excited, “Do what you have to do and then fix it as best you can, if you send it to me tomorrow morning I’ll see what I can do.”
Rey’s cheeks were still burning as she walked out of his office.
Kira gulped as the back of her thighs met the cool wood of his hard mahogany table, Kylo continued to lessen the space between them, walking slowly towards her until he was standing, large thigh between her legs, a breath away from her. His all-consuming presence overwhelmed her senses, she felt drunk off the scent of his cologne and she almost jumped as his calloused hand slowly danced along her thigh, her pantyhose the only barrier between his hand and her naked skin.
“Fuck Kira,” her boss growled, voice impossibly deep, “I….
“God fucking damn it”, Rey cursed, racking her brain for something, anything that Kylo could say that wouldn’t sound like bad porn.
She had been attempting to rewrite this scene for the last twelve hours, after a brief freak-out post-Ben Solo.
So far it was proving a waste of time.
There was only so much time you could spend staring at a blue screen filled with black text, and only so much you can say about tits, and cocks, and tongues, and cunts, and Rey was quickly learning that typing out those words over and over was doing nothing but making her feel like a fifteen-year-old virgin writing fanfiction in a poster filled bedroom.
Her friends were going to read this one day.
Even worse, Ben was going to read this in a matter of hours.
Ben…
Rey knew she shouldn't think about him this way, if anything she should be mad at him for throwing her off the deep end and not using his magic editor powers to tell her exactly what to do to turn her manuscript into a worldwide sensation. But there was something about the intensity of his gaze and the roll of his voice that had her mind wandering as she studied the comments on her latest draft.
Rey huffed and typed rapidly, trying to forget the tall and cryptic man. Though her words were cliche, they were still something and Ben said he would fix it anyway.
Closing the tab, Rey took a gulp out of her glass of red and opened the hilariously professional message thread between the writer and the star of every one of her latest fantasies.
Rey Niima: the edits are done, they’re not that good, enjoy
She clicked off her phone and didn’t think much of it, it was well past 3:00 am. He wouldn’t berate her writing for at least another few hours.
Ben Solo: having a look now
Well fuck me then
Rey pressed the heels of her palms into her closed eyes and tried to breathe, eyes exhausted from the yellow light of her kitchen and back aching from the worn cushions of her grey IKEA couch.
Rey Niima: didn’t think you’d read this till morning
Ben Solo: It is morning.
Rey rolled her eyes
Rey Niima: that’s not what i mean
Ben Solo: I know, forgive me. I think I may have been a bit harsh today, I’m here to help whenever you need it.
Rey Niima: thanks
Rey Niima: sorry if i overreacted. i tend to take things too personally
Ben Solo: You didn’t overreact. Having someone critique your writing is incredibly intimate, especially when it’s, well you know, intimate.
Ben Solo: I’m going to have a read now. Get some sleep, Rey.
She wasn’t going to get any sleep, Rey knew that now. Not when, somewhere, in some sterile, all-black apartment, Ben Solo was awake pulling apart Rey’s sorry excuse for smut.
Did it read like she was a virgin with no sexual experience outside of overly romanticised movies? Or a depraved and hypersexual cat lady with creepy desires?
Either way, she didn't really want to hear what Ben had to say about it, even if it was his job too.
Rey snapped her laptop shut and left it to rest on her coffee table, next to a half-filled mug and a copy of Architectural Digest and headed to her messy and cramped bedroom.
She threw her phone onto her unmade bed and began her nightly routine in the bathroom, only then when her face was scrubbed clean and covered in the moisturizer Rose had gotten her for her birthday did Rey return to check her phone in the dark of her bedroom, illuminated only by a leaking salt lamp.
Ben Solo: Can I call you?
Ben Solo: Sorry you’re probably asleep.
Ben Solo: Just ignore this, I’ll talk to you once the sun is up.
Only Ben Solo would use perfect punctuation in every message he sent. Rey thought to herself.
Glancing at the time, 4:17 am, Rey typed out a hurried reply.
Rey Niima: no it’s all good i’m awake
Rey Niima: don’t think i’m gonna sleep at all tonight lol
Rey silently cursed herself for her honesty.
Rey Niima: anyway what’s up?
[incoming call from Ben Solo]
Shit.
She almost dropped her phone as she scurried to answer, what could he possibly have to say? Was her writing that bad? She was soon to be a published fucking author, it couldn’t be that bad.
“Hello?” Rey answered as she shoved the phone to her ear.
“Rey?” Ben Solo’s glorious baritone replied, albeit a little more unsure than his usual confident tone.
“Yes, hello, it’s me,” Rey pulled her lip between her teeth and the line went silent, her heart racing, “What’s up?”
“I thought,” he cleared his throat, “I thought it might be easier to do this over the phone.”
“Do what?” Rey asked, a little confused as she tucked herself under her covers, struggling to keep her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder.
“Write this scene?” he replied, sounding almost unsure, making Rey feel as though she wasn’t alone in being nervous over calling her editor at 4 am to discuss desk sex, “I don’t know, I can hang up and we can do this tomorrow if that’s better”
“No, no, now’s great, I get most of my writing done at an ungodly hour anyway, let me just grab my laptop okay?” Rey assured as she headed back to her couch to grab the sticker-covered device.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes! Let’s do…this. Whatever this is?” document at the ready, set so they could both edit simultaneously, Rey scrolled done to the dreaded scene.
“Okay so, Rey, let's write Kira and Kylo,” Oh God here we go, Rey thought, before he launched into it, “There’s an obvious power imbalance in the relationship, so do you want to play into that sexually? Flip it so that Kira is the one in charge? Or have them on an even footing in this scene?”
Rey racked her brain for a moment, should she go with what she would want? Or what was socially acceptable and wouldn’t start drama on Twitter?
A debut novel was no guarantee of a career, she may as well make it her own.
“I think the power imbalance should be there, I think he should be calling the shots. But I also think it should be clear that she wants and enjoys it,” Rey let out a sharp cough as she finished her sentence, idle hands skimming over her keyboard and her phone now sat on speaker, trying not to be embarrassed by the almost too personal authorial decision.
“Good, I think that works best for the, for this scene,” Rey warned at the praise, finally something positive, “So we need to reinforce that. Kira needs to be continuously noticing the space he takes up, the way he touches her, the way he makes her his. It needs to be there in the language. Kylo needs to claim her, needs to remind her over and over that she is his. He needs to leave her unable to speak, and that has to come through in the writing,” he sounded almost primal, almost, his voice still professional and reminiscent of one of Rey’s old professors.
Rey began editing, but she was too busy hanging on to his every word to do more than simply highlight words and add notes in a separate tab.
“He needs to talk about the way he’s felt since he’s met her. He needs to tell her that it felt wrong, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Needs to talk about how he wanted her, even though she was his young and off-limits assistant. He needs to tell her that he touched himself thinking about her, and that needs to affect her. He needs to touch her, and it has to be clear that he’s trying to hold back, but he can’t. That he has wanted it for so long, ever since he met her, that he can’t control himself. She needs to take that control away from him, show how even though he is the one being called ‘sir’ and praising her, y…Kira has him wrapped around her finger. Do you think that makes sense for the characters?”
Rey gulped, he said everything so formally, but there was something about the way he spoke about Kira and Kylo that made heat spread throughout her body. Maybe it was the growl of his voice, or the unconventional setting but Rey felt even more drawn to her editor than usual, even if she couldn’t see him.
“I think,” she began, “I think Kira’s wanted Kylo for a long time, I think she wants to hear those things. And I think she wants him to take control, that she needs him to tell her exactly what she makes him feel, and to know exactly what she wants to do to her.”
So maybe she wasn’t exactly talking about Kira in this instant, but to be fair most romance novel protagonists were merely a slate for the reader to insert themselves into, so Rey felt as though she had every right to enjoy that luxury as the author.
And maybe she liked the sound of Ben Solo filling her bedroom, talking about want, and need, and control.
“What do you need?” he asked, breaking Rey’s train of thought and jolting her back to the conversation.
Did he mean…?
“Huh?” she blurted, heart racing.
“With your writing? What do you need help with?” he clarified.
Oh, yeah that.
A knot of embarrassment tightened in Rey’s stomach.
“I get what you mean, with the scene and I agree. It’s just, the dialogue gets me. I don’t know what he should say, I don’t know how she should respond,” it was a bit pathetic really, to assume that he was asking her what she needed as if this phone call wasn’t strictly professional.
“Let’s start with that first moment when he’s backed her against his desk, and he's running his hand along her thigh. He’s desperate, he’s usually this moping and controlled man but he needs her so badly. He needs to be a bit crass, to shock the reader and establish that he’s about to finally snap that restraint. He needs to tell her that…he needs to say…here let me.”
The words on Rey's screen changed as Ben edited them from his end.
“God Kira,” Kylo’s voice wavered, hunger flashing into his dark eyes, “I’ve wanted you spread out on my desk for so long,
“Is this okay?” Ben asked, as Rey’s cheeks burned and heat pooled between her legs.
“Yes,” she quivered, needing to hear, or we’ll read more “Keep going.”
“God Kira,” Kylo’s voice wavered, hunger flashing into his dark eyes, “I’ve wanted you spread out on my desk for so long, wanted to rip open those sheer little black tights and fill your cunt. You’d like that wouldn’t you? To pull up that little skirt and let me do exactly what I want — need — to do to you. Tell me you want it as much as I do.”
“How is that?” Ben asked for reassurance once more, as if Rey could be in any way critical of what he just wrote.
As if she wasn’t struggling to regulate her breathing and remind herself that this wasn’t real, that Kylo hadn’t slowly shifted more and more from a playboy billionaire archetype to a solemn yet sincere man after rounds of edits and hours spent daydreaming about Ben Solo.
“It’s perfect,” Rey responded, eyes glued to her screen.
“It’s a start,” she could basically hear his smile, something he didn’t do often. She was finally back on track, she had an idea of where to take the scene, she was pleasing him, and that last thought affected her more than she was willing to admit.
“Look, I’m sorry if our meeting today, well yesterday, was too personal. I didn’t mean to insinuate that your sexual encounters were inadequate. I-.” he spoke, the ever so professional tone of his voice marking his apology.
“No, it’s okay!” Rey assures with a giggle, only he wouldn’t use words like insinuate and inadequate when apologising for calling her vanilla, “I mean it wasn’t exactly wrong, my life is boring.”
“I’m sure it’s not, everyone’s into different things and I shouldn’t have been so crass,” there was something to what he was saying, a weight Rey didn’t quite understand.
“It’s not I’m not…” she cleared her throat, “It’s not that I don’t like dirty talk, I think, I just don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone good at it. Not compared to what you just wrote, which by the way, absolute mad secret talent to have.“
Rey silently reprimanded herself for the comment, calling her editor good at dirty talk? She must have been more exhausted than she thought.
“Thanks,” he huffed, “Admittedly haven’t gotten to use it much so I’m glad it’s useful for something.”
“Oh?”
Oh.
“Sorry I shouldn’t be telling you this,” no please go on.
“No, don't worry! You’ve just saved my ass and possibly my career, the least I can do is listen to you vent.”
Rey counted the seconds before his reply.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
“Thank you, Rey, for listening, for letting me write. Even if it was only about a hundred words. I’m working on a dozen novels right now but I never get to write anymore, so thank you, for that.”
A smile warmed Rey’s lips as she moved her laptop to her side and crossed her legs.
“Do you call those authors at four in the morning and write smut with them too?” She teased.
“No, Rey,” he matched her tone, “I think that’s a privilege reserved just for you.”
The baritone of his voice, the smooth way in which he delivered the comment. The warmth in Rey’s core spread. He had to mean something by that? Didn’t he? People didn’t just say something like that unless they meant something by it. Was he as attracted to her as she was to him? It felt ludicrous that he could be, him with all his dark woolen sweaters and sleek silver watches and Rey with her rainbow crochet jumpers and drug store hoop earrings.
“Rey?” he called, “You still there?”
“Yeah!” she jumped, breathing a bit uneven, “Sorry, just tired.”
A lie, she was anything but tired.
“I should probably let you go…”
“No wait—“ Rey blurted before she had a chance to stop herself, nice going Niima.
“Yes?”
Rey took a deep breath and pulled her knees up to her chest.
“Thank you, Ben,” she said sincerely, a soft wilt to her voice, “If there’s anything I can do to pay you back.”
Bold, but subtle. Plausible deniability always worked best.
“Rey…” he breathed.
“Yes?” she quirked, almost too eager.
“Fuck Rey,” his voice caught on her name as if it were daring just to say it. There it was, some sort of confirmation, of something, anything.
Rey was so aware of everything. She was aware of the feel of the naked skin of her legs against her discount sheets, the burning sensation dancing along her skin, the pooling wetness between her tingling thighs, and the man on call waiting for a response.
“I think I might need some more help with research Ben,” she began, lowering her volume to almost a whisper, “I think I need you to share that talent of yours.”
He took a moment to respond.
“Are you sure you want that Rey?”
It was ridiculous really. The question. As if she could not want this, not want him. The fact that he was the one asking her if she was sure. As if it wasn’t her who was aiming miles ahead of her league.
“I’ve wanted this for a while, Ben,” there it was, confession.
The ball was in his court now.
“Fuck Rey…” he breathed again.
“I think you want it too, Ben,” she continued, though not exactly sure of what she was saying, “Tell me you want it too. I need to know, need to hear it from you.”
“Of course, I do sweetheart, of course, I want you,” his voice was primal, feral, Rey pressed her lips together at the confirmation, “But we can’t do this, Rey I’m your editor. I’m older than you. You don’t want this.”
“Don’t tell me what I want!” it was frustrating really, that she was wet and needy on the phone and he was choosing now to be chivalrous, “If you want to hang up and be professional fine. If you don’t want me that's fine. But that’s your decision, not mine.”
“Of course I want you,” he replied so quickly, almost aggressively, as if she was stupid for even suggesting the opposite, “Do you know how many times I’ve watched you walk out of my office in those little plaid skirts of yours and wished I could lock the door, back you up against the door, and lick your delicious little cunt right then and there? Do you know how many times I’ve wished that you would crawl under my desk and suck my cock? You’re everything Rey. So fucking tantalising, and so fucking pretty.”
Something shifted. The world tilted on its axis. If she was wet before she was soaked now, her hand slid under her cover, her finger circling over the damp cotton of her panties. She whimpered at the contact, even if it was only minor. She needed him, she knew that now, needed it to be him touching her, needed him closer than just a measly phone call.
“Are you touching yourself?” he noticed, sounding bewildered.
“Mhmm,” she whined her confirmation, allowing her hands to creep under her panties.
“Fuck,” he groaned, astonished, “Of course you are. I bet you’re imagining it's my fingers instead of yours. I bet you wish I was there touching you.”
She ran her finger along her slit, she was so wet that it slid along her cunt from entrance to clit seamlessly. Rey whined at the sensation.
“I always do Ben,” a moan as she circled her clit, “I always fucking do. I got off the day I met you. Thought about your voice, and your hands, and what it would be like to sit on your face.”
He had a hand around his cock. Rey could tell by the way his breathing sharpened, and his responses became more desperate.
“I’d absolutely devour you. Lick that little cunt until you were crying, until you had no choice but to lie back and take my cock over and over. Fuck Rey, do you know how hard it was to edit your little manuscript without imagining doing everything in there to you?” Rey couldn’t help but insert the finger at the confession, moaning at the sensation of being filled. It wasn’t enough, not even when she added a second. She needed him.
“I thought about you when I wrote it,” she whined, digging the heel of her palm into her mound, “Wanted you to fuck me so bad that it was all I could think about when editing.”
“I will Rey,” a groan, “Of course, I will. I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. Until you can practically feel me the next day. I’ll stretch you out and split you open. Anything you want over and over again.”
She was getting close, but she wasn’t ready for it to end. Rey stifled herself, holding in the sounds her body wanted to emit, wanted him to hear.
“Tell me what you’re doing to yourself Rey,” he begged, “Fuck I need to know.”
“I’m fucking myself on my fingers,” Rey gasped, “It’s not enough, not full enough. I need you, Ben, please.”
“I will Rey, I promise. The next time I see you I’ll lock the doors and show you exactly what it means to be filled,” Rey was dangerously close, tension building between her legs, clouding her mind and making her breathing erratic, her fingers working her cunt in the feral way she knew he would, “I bet you’d be such a good girl for me. Wouldn’t you Rey?”
“Ah huh,” she whimpered in agreeance.
“That’s right. I bet you’d let me come anywhere I’d like,” Rey swore she heard him moan.
“Not anywhere,” she whimpered, “In me.”
He was silent for a moment as though he were drinking her words in.
“Fuck yes!” he breathed, “I’d fill you up, Rey. Make you pull your panties up, squeeze your legs together, and walk out of the building with my come still inside you. My good fucking girl, you’d do exactly as I say and enjoy it.”
It was too much, his words, his voice, the faint sound of his hand on his cock. She couldn’t hold it anymore, couldn’t bite back the climax building inside her. It was everything, absolutely everything, and somehow not enough, Rey had no choice but to give in to her body.
Rey’s orgasm ripped through her as violently as the wall between them shattered. It spread from her core to every inch of her body in a way it never had before. Her toes curled and her mouth gaped as her head arched back into her headboard. She felt his presence everywhere yet he hadn’t so much as laid a finger on her.
“Come for me Rey,” he ordered, his voice no more than a growl, “Let me hear how much you need it.”
“Yes, Ben…Please…Need your cock!” she became nothing more than a panting mess of unintelligible words and whimpers.
“God Rey…” he jutted out through gritted teeth, the sound of his hand slapping against his skin growing louder and more erratic, “Gonna have you on my cock, going to fucking destroy you!”
Ben came with a shout.
He was loud and messy and glorious and Rey could get off on the sound alone.
Their breathing evened together, panting loud and clear over the call before they both burst into quiet and breathless laughter. Rey was the first to speak, sweaty and undignified alone in her room, yet feeling no shame at all.
“I think I better go,” she hummed out, satiated and satisfied, warmth spreading through her body and her lips quirky upwards into a teasing smile, “Good Night Ben.”
He hummed in response before speaking, “I mean what I said.”
Her smile grew, the words she needed to hear only enhancing her state of euphoria.
“Me too,” she replied, still trying to regain her breath as her body felt too hot under her covers, “I want you to make good on your promise tomorrow Ben. Okay?”
“Okay,” he laughed, and Rey just knew he was sporting the most amazing smile, “Goodnight Rey, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As the call ended Rey ran a hand through her tangled mop of messy brown hair and sighed into the covers as she pulled clicked the lamp off and pulled the crumpled quilt over her. As she was lulled, exhausted, into a deep and heavy sleep, her dreams were filled with Ben Solo; his smile, his laughter, and the glorious sound he made when he came.
Maybe her next round of edits was something to look forward to...