Rail - Chapter 1 - EarthquakeCollector (2024)

Chapter Text

“Our next entry to the ring is Silencer, with owner and rider, Ben Solo.”

In a sea of Jane Smiths and John Andersons, Ben Solo’s is one of the few rider’s names that stand out enough for Rey to actually recognize it. Mostly because she’s always wondered if there’s any relation to the famous triple crown winner Han Solo, but also because Ben Solo is the only person she’s ever seen on a full sized horse look too big to be riding it.

All of the riders look the same to her from behind the viewfinder of her camera, sequestered into her videographer’s booth next to the judges table as she is. Tan riders pants tight enough to be a second skin, pristine knee-high riding boots, dark blazer with a white collar poking out, rider number affixed to their back, and a black brimmed helmet strapped tight under the chin. It’s only the horses that ever stand out to her. Like the mottled gray pony named When Pigs Fly that’s a good enough jumper to compete with the regular sized horses. A brown horse with a single white foot named One Sock. A pristine white horse with mile long legs aptly named A Tall One With The Boys.

But Ben Solo, to other people that work at Skywalker Equestrian Facility, is mostly memorable because he’s the most unrepentant of unrepentant assholes.

He’s always storming up and down the aisles of the complex like someone pissed in his cheerios that morning. Before the sun has even risen, he’s found at least three different things to snap at people about regarding his horses, and the facilities, and the ‘sh*t f*cking food’ they serve here. Rey heard that he once made a stable worker cry two years ago over something the girl can’t even currently remember. Rey has even eavesdropped on other riders talking about how unpleasant he is to be around.

But mostly, to Rey at least, Ben Solo is a dick because he doesn’t pat his horse at the end of any of his rounds.

”Now, when you’re ending the video, you’ll usually know they’re finished with their turn when you see them do a loop at the end in the hunter events. Or with jumpers, they’ll usually just save us the hassle and f*ck off out of the ring. But sometimes, they take their next turn right after the first one, and they’ll just stay in the ring for that, so it’s important to know when they’re done so we can clip them as two videos and not just one, cause then whoever buys the video is getting the one of their next round for free.” Poe had explained (badly) while he was training Rey her first week at the job, practically watching her head spin with all of this totally nonsensical information he was shoving down her throat. “A pretty sure-fire way to be sure they’re finished is if they pat the horse. ‘Good job,’ pat pat pat, all that stuff.”

“Okay…” Rey tells him unsurely, eyeing the tangle of cables she’s responsible for making sense of each morning on the peeling floor of the camera booth.

”They don’t always pat the horse.” Poe amends. “But most of them do.”

Ben Solo’s horse for this round, Silencer, is predictably gorgeous. All black and tall as hell, with a tightly braided main and a long swishing tail. Solo leads Silencer in a lazy half-lap around the ring, and another thing she hates about him is that he always leads the horse right up along the fence in front of her camera position, forcing her to yank the arm of the tripod up into her gut to keep his stupid helmet in frame. Don’t cut off the legs. Don’t cut off the head. But if you can only keep one, keep the head.

Solo approaches the first jump, and Rey can tell immediately that this horse is not quite as graceful as it is powerful. This is the sort of horse that has her tensed for a refusal or a dismount right out of the gate. After they land their jump, as Solo is righting himself in the saddle from where he braced his forearms against its neck, Silencer bucks his back legs straight out, making Solo fight for balance as he gets his horse back under control to go for the next jump.

Rey doesn’t usually see Solo competing in these lower level competitions. Usually when she sees him, it’s during the weekend night shows held in the stadium, him even larger on the jumbo-tron as he leads one of his horses through jumps three times as tall, the ones that win lots of money.

She doesn’t remember seeing this horse before, though. It might be new.

Rey doesn’t know why he’s deigned to walk amongst them mere mortals today, but truthfully, she isn’t invested enough in him to give it more than a passing thought.

It makes her think of bowling. Of a ball bashing against straight white pins ringed in crimson.

“Control, do you copy?” Rey intones into her walkie talkie.

“Go ahead.” Poe tells her after a moment. Distracted. Probably playing cookie clicker in the production office again.

“Dismount on ring twelve, rider number eighty one,” she reports, watching Solo struggle to his feet again while trying to calm the distress of his horse. He’s maintained his grip on the reins through all that, which she finds herself mildly impressed by. “Horse is okay, rider is getting back up. No medics, but I suggest you review the footage.”

This is what she says over coms whenever someone’s fall is particularly funny. Judging by how much Poe vehemently hates Ben Solo (due to some incident last year involving a golf cart that she can never quite remember) he’s going to have a field day replaying this one.

Eventually, Solo heaves himself back onto his feet, viciously kicking the rails aside and accidentally spooking his horse even further. Rey stopped recording the moment after he finished falling, but she watches his horse rear up and struggle to back away.

Solo doesn’t pet him or otherwise show any affection, but he doesn’t try to be harsh or unkind to him, either. She can see his lips moving, like he’s attempting to soothe his horse through reason. It almost makes her laugh.

When he finally gets Silencer to follow him out of the ring, leading the horse with slackened reins right at his side, he passes Rey’s camera position and makes eye contact with her. She’s quick to look away, donning her mask of polite disinterest as she presses imaginary buttons on her camera to avoid his gaze, but he halts in his tracks right in front of her anyway.

“Delete that footage.” He demands, glaring up at her from his position in the ring four feet or so below her open booth.

No rider has ever spoken to her from inside the ring before. She’s almost tempted to check on either side of herself, to try and catch a glimpse of who he was actually talking to. But she hears one of the judges to her right whisper something to the other, low and scandalized.

“Um. Excuse me?” She asks him dumbly.

She’s never seen his face before, not in any way that mattered. Everyone riding a horse is just a body in the field of her camera, their features washed out by the distance between them or shaded under the visors of their dumb helmets. But Solo turns out to be oddly striking. A long face with pouty lips and dark eyes, black hair curling out from under his helmet to frame his flushed cheeks.

“Delete that trip. Right now.” He tells her with all the self-assuredness of someone who always has their orders followed. “Scrub the SD card, or whatever it is that you’re using. Immediately.”

Rey huffs a laugh, shaking her head at him and all of his audacity.

All of these videos get uploaded directly to the website at the end of each day for purchase. Her camera is wired directly to the production office, who make sure each trip she films is clipped to their satisfaction before they send it off to be sold to whoever wants to buy it.

He must not want to look bad in front of whoever he has scrutinizing him. Either to potentially buy this horse, or to vet him for something else.

“Can’t do that, sir. Sorry.” She informs him, not sorry in the slightest.

He looks outraged. Incensed. Like no one has ever told him no in all his career in the world of equestrian sports. Silencer whinnys and shakes his head when he reaches the end of the slack in his reins, jerking Solo forward a bit until he plants his boots in the sand. “What do you mean ‘you can’t do that’? I’ll help you. The button looks like a little trash can.”

Rey snorts, delighting in his fury. “The only person that can stop me from posting this video is my boss’s boss’s boss, or Luke Skywalker, himself. I can’t help you.”

A muscle under his eye jumps. One of the judges in the booth next to her pointedly clears her throat, but he doesn’t even pretend to notice.

“You don't have my permission to use my image.” He spits.

She loves when people tell her this. Usually it’s in angry emails when she’s working on support tickets at home in the off-season, but now she gets to see the look on his face when she tells him -

“Actually, I do,” she chirps. “All those entry papers you signed in order to compete? They give me explicit permission to film you. So - nice try, but no cigar.”

He looks like a wild feral thing. Intense. Apoplectic.

“I’ll have your f*cking job for this.” He promises, face pink and lips even pinker.

“You won’t.” She assures him, propping her hip against the railing to her booth.

She wonders if rich asshole Ben Solo has ever once been speechless before this moment. Because with the way his mouth is working, opening and closing as his brows draw closer and closer together, he doesn't look as if he’s handling it very well.

“Benjamin,” one of the judges snaps. Solo jolts, face paling when he looks up into the judges booth and sees Amilyn glaring down at him. “If you don’t get your ass out of this ring, I’m issuing you a yellow card. We have fifty more trips to get through today. Don’t make me get your mother down here.”

A chuckle bursts from Rey’s lips before she can bite it back. Solo whips his head towards her again and glares daggers. Then exits through the ingate and disappears into the stables.

---

“ You. I need to speak with you.”

Rey sighs and looks over her burdened shoulder. She is carrying her camera equipment back to the production office, tripod slung over one shoulder and camera box gripped in her hand, her day having been very long and oppressively sunny. She thinks she can feel the beginnings of a sunburn stinging at the bridge of her nose as she watches Solo jog to catch up to her. He doesn’t take the hint when she turns back around and pointedly doesn’t wait for him.

“ Wait .” He stresses, reaching out to snatch up her free elbow. She whips around in a neat evasion, nearly clocking him in the temple with the legs of the tripod in the process.

“If you touch me, I am calling security.” She bites, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

He seems caught off guard by the open hostility in her tone. He blinks owlishly, gloved hand still frozen in the air between them, taking a moment to consider her words.

“I apologize,” he tells her, stiff but surprisingly sincere. It makes her eyebrows shoot up. “But I’m still very unhappy with your professionalism today.”

“My professionalism? ” Rey guffaws.

Solo is more handsome than she would have thought, without the helmet. Close up like this, his eyes are more honeyed, shot through with olive within the deep brown of his blackened mood. His mouth is plush, even turned down in a frown as it is, and his nose is prominent and harshly defined. A very stern face, but somehow one that works well.

He’s still in his uniform besides the head gear and the crop, boots thudding a heavy tread alongside her own footsteps as she continues in her path.

His riding pants are… tight would be a generous word. Obscene would be a more honest one. Rey finds herself wanting to watch the way the tan material stretches over his thighs as he walks a bit more than she would like to admit. As for what’s straining against the fabric between them -

“Yes.” Solo bites, breaking her out of the downward spiral of her thoughts and bringing her back to the present. “You work for the equestrian center, and the equestrian center caters to its equestrians . I want that video deleted before it goes up to the website.”

“Look,” Rey sighs, exhausted after a very long day that began before the sun even did. “Once it’s uploaded, you can probably petition to get it taken down since there was a dismount. It probably won’t be, we only really do that if there’s a serious injury, but if you’ve got the amount of juice your attitude is telling me you do, you can probably get it done.”

She can practically hear him grinding his teeth together.

“I don’t care about the appeals process ,” he tells her acidly. “I’m saying that it shouldn’t be posted at all .”

“It isn’t up to me,” Rey snaps, tired of this conversation and this whole boiling hot day. “Submit a support ticket or something once it’s live and see what can be done from there. I’m not even the one who posts them, so really, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Who is in charge?”

She rounds on him, forcing Solo to skid to a halt lest he run right into her. “It is not my job to cater to you.” She snarls. “It is my job to film you, and your horse, and both of you together jumping over things. And my job ended twenty minutes ago, so the only thing that I am beholden to right now is this camera equipment, and getting it back to the production office. Not. You .”

His wide eyes narrow, but before he can reply, she is storming away again, blocking out whatever bullsh*t he’s spewing to fish her keycard lanyard from the inside of her shirt. When she makes it to the door, Solo still hot on her heels, she swipes it in front of the door handle and pushes the big authorized personnel only entrance open, slamming it shut as soon as she’s through.

Or. Trying to slam shut it.

The jam bounces off the toe of one expertly placed leather boot. Solo forces his way into the mouth of the production office, following her through the fluorescently lit antechamber radiating his displeasure.

“ Stop ignoring me.” He hisses, jabbing the frustrated spread of his fingers down to the sandy concrete floor as she turns to face him.

“Stop following me!” She snaps right back, letting her equipment clatter at her feet as she shoos him back. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t be in here - get out!”

“Not until we get this sorted.”

“There’s nothing for you to sort! I don’t know why it’s so f*cking important for you to suppress that video, but I literally can’t f*cking help you. All I do is point the camera and follow the horse.”

“Tell me who your boss is, I’ll have a word with them, then.”

“I’m not giving you my manager , Karen,” she snarls, puffing out her chest as he steps close to loom over her. She isn’t going to be intimidated by the likes of him. She doesn’t care how big and imposing he is, or how much of his weight he’s able to throw around on a daily basis. He isn’t allowed to just get whatever he wants because he has money. “Go through the proper channels like the rest of us commoners. You’re not special.”

She steps closer to him when he advances on her, knocking him off guard enough to send him back a step. His cheeks are still flushed from his ruthless fury, eyes sparkling as he watches her follow his retreat to crowd him further back towards the door.

“With the amount of goddamned money I funnel into this second rate facility -”

“- no one forced you to come here -”

“- and what little it does to drive the quality of the products -”

“- good for you, asshole, congrats on having enough disposable income to be -”

“- can’t even get a decent f*cking meal -”

Rey points her finger sharply at his chest, stopping only a hair's breadth away from his heaving sternum. His voice abruptly cuts off, like he’s shocked she’s dared to regard him in such a manner. “Get the f*ck out of here. Right now.”

He leans down to get in her face, so close she thinks for a wild second that he’ll press their lips together. Their noses are nearly touching. He asks her in a low voice, dripping with intensity: “Or what?”

Rey plants her palm on his stomach and shoves him back hard, partly to gain some distance, and partly to see his eyes widen when his shoulders hit the wall she’s backed him up to. She is so painfully fed up with him and all of these other rich f*cking horse people regarding her like she is the dirt beneath their expensive riding boots. He loses his breath a little when she pins him, forearm braced against the width of his chest now as she snarls in his shocked face: “Or I will make you.”

Rey watches his tongue flick out to wet his lower lip, the nervousness that gesture should belay absent on his pretty face. His eyes are dark, only getting darker as he tries to crowd her again, only to be pinned even harder when the tip of his nose brushes along the length of hers. “You’ll make me?”

“Yes.” She snaps, a sneaking suspicion writhing in her gut that he isn’t taking her very seriously. She can feel the warmth of his breath fanning against her cheek. He’s so tall she has to crane her neck up to meet his gaze. Heat blooms across her cheeks, but she doesn’t stop to try and unpack that particular response.

“I thought you were going to call security?” He murmurs, devoid of any of the righteous anger he’d been rife with only seconds ago. The about face makes Rey’s head spin. His voice makes something dangerous pool between her legs. “What will you do to me?”

She has the feeling they aren’t talking about the same thing anymore.

Rey’s mind shorts out to a roaring static tinged white. Completely blank now, but for the inviting shape of his plush mouth. She wonders what kissing him might be like.

Solo’s eyes are hooded as he watches her, waiting. His breathing is unsteady as he hangs on her every expression.

“Why don’t you find out?” She challenges.

He does.

---

When Ben Solo’s lips crash into hers, the only thought Rey can really form is that they are even softer than she imagined they’d be.

Which means, inherently, that she had imagined this somewhere between watching him fall on his ass in the ring and now. For that, she can’t exactly say she’s very proud of herself.

Solo groans into her mouth, already open to him from readying for a fight. His tongue slides past her parted lips to twist with her own, forcing her to muffle an embarrassing little whimper as she receives him. She gives back as good as she gets, tangling her fingers into his sweat damp hair to drag him even closer, unwilling to show any weakness in this strange game they’ve found themselves playing.

But Solo only seems delighted by this. His gloved fingers slip along both of her cheeks, around the back of her neck, settling her closer against the wide expanse of him as he devours her mouth. Like someone starved.

One of his hands clumsily yanks the hair tie out of her bun. Before Rey can pull back enough to yell at him about this, too, his fist is tangled into her hair, holding it close to the base and guiding her to tilt her head just so for him, just how he seems to like.

f*ck, he’s good at this. So good at this. Even with how they’re rushing, he kisses like it’s an art. Like he’s weaving poetry or playing an instrument. It’s nothing like any kiss she’s partaken in before.

Solo’s other hand comes up to cup the nape of her neck, urging her head back even further and turning his so that his next kiss is absolutely devastating. His long nose presses into the apple of her cheek, her lashes fluttering against his as he flicks his tongue against hers. It’s so sensual, so dirty , it feels as if he already has her undressed and pressed against the wall.

Further down the hallway off the main entryway they’re in, all concrete floors and opened boxes and abandoned equipment, Rey hears a door open and shut.

Ripped out of the moment by her fear, Rey gasps and leans past an oblivious Ben Solo, anxiously peering down the darkened corridor. Solo makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat, mindlessly using the hold he still has in her hair to drag her kiss-swollen mouth back to his. She resists.

“You’re going to get me f*cking fired.” She growls while he keeps trying to kiss her. Some of the lust clears from his eyes with that, but still his lips pull into a slight wicked grin against hers.

Oh.

“I did say I’d have your job.” He teases. And she cannot believe this man has the f*cking gall -

Footsteps echo in a path leading towards them. Panic coursing through her veins, unwilling to be seen flushed and panting and pressed up against a guest not even allowed to be in here, Rey rips Solo further into the building by his jacket, forcing him into the first open door they come across and falling against the door as quickly as is humanly possible.

Her heart beats a thousand miles a minute as she strains her ears for the sound, back against the flimsy wood as whoever it is passes their door and continues down the stairs into the basem*nt. sh*t, that’s probably Finn. His ring was getting done around the same time as hers today.

f*ck. All of her camera equipment is still strewn about the corridor outside. Him and Poe are both going to think she’s either been abducted or fired.

Before Rey can even turn to tell Solo to f*ck off for real this time, sure hands are turning her by the shoulders, holding her steady by the back of her head as he crushes their lips together again.

Rational thought melts from her brain like ice in the blazing heat of summer. All worry of being discovered here with him evaporates along with her higher reasoning. Solo presses her back against the surface of the door, mirroring their position from earlier to drop rough fingers around her hips and pull them against his. The pressure wrenches a moan from her lungs, high and needy against his open mouth. He growls , hands slipping down further to brace against her ass, to haul her up his body so that she has no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist.

Rey’s hands fly up to fist at the collar of his sport coat, dazed as she sucks on his tongue and feels the resulting buck of his hips between her thighs.

His riding pants, while not having left much up to imagination before, don’t stand a chance against him fully erect now. If Rey’s mouth wasn’t so busy already, she might gulp.

“Please,” he groans, lips at her throat now so that he can speak against her thundering pulse. She imagines the vibrations of his baritone twisting around the frantic beating of her heart, her whole chest alight with sound and sensation. His voice is gentle. Soft. None of the rest of him is. “Please let me f*ck you. Right now? Please?”

He sounds desperate for it. Like he might die if she refuses him. In all of her sexual encounters before, she’s never felt so powerful. So utterly wanted.

Which doesn’t make sense at all, because they hate each other.

She nods, three quick motions of her head, right against the hard slope of his shoulder.

He is a frenzy of movement after that, closing his teeth around her neck in a vicious claim as he sets her down to rip her shorts and underwear down her legs. He tugs her sneaker through one bunched up leg, and then he is guiding her thighs to part around him, lifting her again to pin her to the door so hard it rattles in the frame.

She tenses, breath too light in her lungs, heart beating too fast in her heaving chest. His free hand drops between them as she strains to listen for footsteps, and when the leather of his gloves meets her molten center -

“sh*t,” he huffs, stuffing two fingers into her before she can even moan at his touch. Her back bows, hands shaking at his shoulders as he pumps them deep. “God, you’re already so wet .”

She wants to ask how the hell he’s supposed to know, what with his gloves and all. But the only thing she does is mindlessly nod her head, widening her legs for him as she silently begs for more.

Instead, a deeply unhappy groan slips past her lips as he removes his fingers entirely. He soothes it with a firm press of his own, kissing her quiet in the dirty filthy way she can’t get enough of as he reaches between them and pulls at his own clothing. She hears the clinking of his belt, the relieved sigh woven into their kiss as warm skin presses at the crease of her thigh.

Solo doesn’t waste any time, not a single second, in pressing his co*ckhead to her little opening and giving her the entire length of himself in one merciless push.

“sh*t,” Rey wheezes, not having even been afforded a moment to brace herself for what is surely the most massive f*cking co*ck that’s ever existed. She pants, her muscles screaming as she works to accept him, the stretch threatening to pull her apart. He holds her tight as she squirms, not moving as she struggles to acclimate. She’s never taken anything nearly this big. And definitely not this quickly. “f*ck. f*ck.”

“You’re okay,” he pants, sounding just as breathless as she feels. Just as wrecked. “You can take me.” His voice is strangely soft as he adjusts the spread of her thighs and somehow stuffs in even more . Rey is shaking like a leaf now, embarrassed at how thoroughly this asshole is managing to take her apart in this storage closet. She flexes her inner muscles hard and hears him choke on a groan.

“A-Awfully… full of yourself.” She grumps, every nerve lit on fire as he drags in a breath and starts moving. Gently at first, but harder when he sees she can take it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re full of me.” He murmurs, cutting off her indignant squawk with another expert press of his lips. He slams into her then, seeming to find pleasure in her speechlessness, setting a brutal pace with his hips that rattles the doorframe.

Rey gasps in horror, shoving at his shoulders until he furrows his brows and stops. “Be any f*cking louder!” She whisper-screeches, cheeks hot and core burning even hotter. Someone is going to hear them, and no matter how f*cking good this feels, she isn’t willing to lose her job for him. “Brace me against something else!”

Ben huffs, but pulls her away from the door without argument. He steps back with his hands supporting her weight, legs still wrapped tight around his waist. Then he is pounding up into her again, not bothering to brace her against anything at all.

Rey’s shock renders her mute. Solo uses his grip on her ass to lift her, letting gravity bring her down hard as he works his hips up to meet her. It’s such an absurd showing of strength, of skill and balance, she finds herself gritting her teeth to keep the embarrassing sounds bubbling up her throat at bay. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

She doesn’t want to get fired, either. But for some reason, that thought is coming in pretty secondary to the first.

This motion sort of reminds her of what she’s seen him and thousands of other equestrians do on horseback to control the gait of their mount. She wonders how hard that must be on their hips and thighs.

Dizzily, she also wonders if Solo would give her notes on her form if she were to ride him.

“f*ck.” He bites, teeth under her jaw as his rhythm intensifies. Rey fists at his hair, only a little sweaty from the helmet he’s been wearing all day, curls dark and soft in her grip. He groans at the tug, bringing her back down onto him hard enough to knock a gasp from her parted lips. “Oh, f*ck.”

He sounds wanton. Sinful. As if he might unravel at any moment. Rey yanks his head back, forcing his eyes to meet hers. They are dark and half-lidded, dreamy in his pleasure as he uses her body just the way he wants. She pulls harder, and he groans as his gaze is forced to the ceiling. Too loud.

“I know you’re used to your blue first prize ribbons,” Rey bites out, tightening her inner muscles around the increasingly unsteady pace he sets into her. It makes him grunt. “But why don’t you aim for the red one this time? Come in second for a change?”

Solo breaks free of her hold to glare at her, as if she’s deeply offended him. Rey glares right back, never having been outpaced by a man and knowing that isn’t gonna start anytime soon.

He swivels them around, the ease of which forcing a gasp out of her as her arms scramble to wrap more firmly around the back of his neck. Solo pauses like he’s searching for something, apparently finding it when he carelessly sweeps a stack of half-full boxes from a table and lays her in their place. Prize ribbons tumble onto the dusty concrete floor in an undignified heap. Their plight immediately flees her mind when Solo plants his palms on either side of her head, gaining the leverage he needs to slam his hips into her so hard that -

She isn’t proud of this. Not at all. But she wails , loudly, nearly coming just from that one stroke.

Rey viciously bites down on her knuckles, narrowly avoiding breaking the skin as she bears his brutal thrusting. He rides her hard , hard enough to have her eyes rolling into the back of her skull. His hips and thighs are machines .

He’s making the table knock loudly against the wall, but Rey can’t even bring herself to care anymore. Every savage push forward rubs the slight upward curve of him along her front wall, punching against her g spot with a precision he really shouldn't have with how hard he’s giving it to her. He takes up every bit of room in her body, stretching her to the absolute limit as he sinks more and more of himself into her with every thrust. f*ck, how much of him is there? Her org*sm is already starting to barrel down her spine.

Rey knows what she said to him, about coming second, but she didn’t actually want him to make her come at all . He shouldn’t have the satisfaction.

And, admittedly, she doesn’t want the best sex she’s ever had to be a quickie in a storage closet with Ben f*cking Solo.

“G-God, are you going to come soon, or what?” She snaps impatiently, squeezing around him when he drags her hips closer to the edge of the table. “I have things to do today.”

Ben growls, using his grip on one of her thighs to push it forward towards her shoulder, nearly folding her in half on one side. His next shove inside nearly has her screaming. “You have to come on this co*ck, first.” He informs her, doing his absolute best to make that an inevitability. “You’re not going anywhere until you do. I don’t care if it takes all night.”

Like hell , she thinks.

Even still, Rey grits her teeth, desperately trying to hold on, desperately trying to knock him down a peg and get him to finish first as she pulls hard at his hair. Right at the nape of his neck. His eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open in a huff. She can feel him twitch heavily against her inner walls.

Rey digs her nails into her palm, biting her lip so hard that Solo notices and brings his thumb up to gently pry it from beneath her teeth. The softness of this action is directly challenged by the viscous way he rails her into the table.

Solo growls, seeing through her attempts to hold on to sanity and not appreciating them one bit. He shoves into her harder, bouncing her body up the width of the table and wedging his hand between her head and the wall when the two nearly collide.

He leans forward just enough to press her other thigh open, pinning it in place as he hammers into her. Her hands are shaking from where they’re gripped onto the edge of the table by her hips. Every breath outward is a whine.

“ Let. Go. ” He demands.

Solo drives into her g spot one last time, hard enough to white out her vision as she arches up and comes . She is gasping through gritted teeth, desperately trying to staunch the flow of her exultations as she shakes apart.

“There we go, baby,” he breathes, not sounding nearly as smarmy about it as she would have expected him to. Not smarmy at all, in fact. “Just like that. Come all over my f*cking co*ck just like that.” He praises.

But with the way he’s moving, she doesn't stop . Tears are gathering at the corners of her eyes, jaw clenching hard enough to crack a molar as he doubles down on his pace. His rhythm is steady and consistent. f*ck, if he doesn’t get sloppy, she’s gonna -

“Yes, f*ck, yes .” He growls when she comes a second time, right on the heels of the first. His voice is soft. Reverent. Tattered and ruined and so deep. He drops his gloved thumb to her cl*t and doesn’t. f*cking. stop.

“Please… Please …” She sobs, as quietly as she can but already knowing it isn’t quiet enough. Rey might die if he tries to make her come again. She can’t believe she’s been reduced to begging Solo for mercy, but here she is, practically crying underneath him.

“Sweetheart…” He groans, fingers quick and devastating and consistent. Her legs are already twitching. The quivering muscles of her c*nt are contracting.

“Say my name when you come this time.” He pants. Which is bold of someone who doesn't even know her name.

She actively tries not to, as it crests. She doesn’t want to give him anything. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at her. That soft affection in his eyes.

“Ben.” She whimpers. Whimpers . She’ll never live this down. But she comes hard, making a mess, surely soaking the front of his riding pants as she squirms underneath him. He groans, working into her faster, f*cking her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Like this, too, is something he’s being scored on.

“Can you take it harder?” He huffs. Rey nods, still dazedly riding her aftershocks, still reeling from the amount of times he’s brought her off. In a closet. At work. Solo sighs his relief, then clamps his hands around her hips.

And f*cking gives it to her.

Rey almost screams when he pulls her close and stops holding back. She’s never been f*cked so hard, so good, struggling to not let her aftershocks pitch upwards into another fully fledged org*sm.

“I-I’m gonna come,” he stutters, crease between his brows deepening as he struggles for breath. His countenance is almost sweet, even as he does filthy awful things to her body. She thinks his fingers will probably leave bruises, little points of contact that will prove he was there long after they part ways. He isn’t watching where he splits her open like she thought he’d be, but her flushed freckled face instead. “Where do you want it?”

It’s oddly thoughtful of him to ask, she thinks deliriously, her nerves already winding up again despite how fiercely she tries to shove them down.

This is already wildly ill-advised. They shouldn’t have done this without a condom. Or at all , honestly. But this far into their tryst together, she can really only suck him off or let him come against her face or her tit* or her belly. Which, to be fair, definitely aren’t things she’s opposed to. But Rey can’t leave here looking like she got f*cked in a storage closet. And if she takes it in the face or tries to swallow that giant co*ck, she will definitely leave here looking like she got f*cked in a storage closet.

She probably will anyway. But this decision is about minimization.

“Inside,” she whispers, barely audible, fingers scrabbling at the edge of the table as his hips threaten to send her further and further out of his grip. f*ck, she wishes the idea didn’t get her so hot. But she finds herself squeezing around him anyway.

“God-f*cking-damnit, Rey,” he snarls viciously, squeezing his eyes shut and bearing his teeth. Solo shoves deep and holds, sending her up the table with the force of his hips as he spills himself inside.

And Rey isn’t proud of this, either. Not at all. But the filthy wet heat of his come filling her up, the pulsing of his co*ck against her oversensitive walls, the ecstasy softening his face, all of it combines and condenses in her core and sends her spiraling into yet another org*sm. It’s shivering and slight, more of a swell than a breaking wave, but it is still, absurdly, her fourth org*sm of the day.

Solo’s eyes flutter open when he feels her cinch around him again, watching her with dark eyes that seem to see too much as his co*ck gives another valiant jerk at her pleasure. Rey is panting like she’s just run a race, whimpering when his thumb traces the ridge of her hip bone.

It feels like a long time passes like that, them catching their breaths in the slight space between their bodies, his gloved hands soothing her quivering muscles as she figures out how to inhabit her body again. He pulls out gently, almost reluctant, tucking himself back into his pants and reaching down to make sense of the tangle of clothing that dangles from one limp ankle.

Solo threads her opposite foot through her shorts again, pulling them and the underwear they conceal up her legs until it’s set to where it should be, even lifting her ass up off the table when her jellied limbs can’t be bothered. He straightens them on her hips as she lies there trying to form higher thought, putting her back together even as his fly gapes open and his belt clangs in its loops.

When Solo braces her shoe against his thigh to tie the laces that have come loose, Rey blinks up at the ceiling and shoots bolt upright, nearly kicking him between his legs. He regards her warily, but lets her go, one shoe now tighter than the other as she hops down from the table. His come immediately starts to pool in her underwear, making her shiver and blush hot. She has the insane urge to thank him. Like he’s the barista that’s handed over her coffee in the Starbucks drive thru after a long day.

“Well -”

“Don’t forget. About the video.” He tells her dumbly.

She cannot f*cking believe this guy.

The look on his face tells her that he’s just as horrified by his tact as she is. Self-hatred blooms in his expression like a bleeding red sunset.

Maybe she won’t murder him in this supply closet, but she won’t let him get away from his bad behavior that easily. She’ll impart one last barb, one last thing to keep him up tonight.

“Well.” She sighs in a rush, putting on a chipper (if put-upon) facade as she brushes pretend dust off her shorts. “Thanks for giving me a… memorable first time, Mr. Solo. My sorority sisters will never believe how I ended up losing my V card.”

Rey doesn’t stick around to see the look on his face as she slams the door behind herself, but she thinks the sound she hears in the silence after is him choking on his own tongue. She snickers at her own lie, hoping his expression was as priceless as she’s imagining as she gathers up her discarded equipment in the hall.

She is quick to flee down the stairs before he can gather himself enough to show his face.

It isn’t until she’s made it to the bottom that she realizes he’d said her actual name while he was coming inside of her.

---

“Jesus Christ, he goes down like a ton of bricks!” Poe laughs, kicked back in his seat far enough to test its flimsy legs. Finn is next to him, smothering a chuckle into his fist as both of them stare at the playback screen. It’s Ben Solo’s dismount, the one he wants nobody to ever see, taken from her camera feed and bullied into looping round and round like a tiktok video.

Wow, the sprawl of his limbs was particularly undignified. He looks like an idiot draped over the rails like that, expression dazed and embarrassed, then angry like he’s upset with being embarrassed.

He had popped right back up after he was done with the shock of it. She can see the scramble of it as her camera starts to pan off of him, hurrying like being caught on his back is the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Then the whole clip starts again from the beginning, him somersaulting off the horse and crashing into the rails all over again.

“Rey!” Poe exclaims, noticing her in the doorway and pausing the video right before Solo hits the jump. “Was he so pissed? Did he freak out after he got up? Throw a fit?”

Rey chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the still image of him in the fluorescent light of the office. Big and dark and so very handsome even with his dumb helmet and awkward limbs.

“Yeah,” she tells them, finally letting her camera gear drop to the sandy laminate floor. “You’ll never believe what he said to me on his way out of the ring…”