Chapter Text
Rey sighed, growling internally as she took in the abysmal sight of the breakroom. Why a group of grown adults couldn’t pick up their own trash after their lunch was anyone’s guess, and this task was definitely below Rey’s payscale. But she couldn’t just walk away from the mess; she felt too guilty leaving the piles of napkins and sticky microwave trays behind for the custodians. After all, what kind of a supervisor would she be if she didn’t try to maintain a clean workspace?
Rey had fought hard to become a publishing editor at Jinn & Kenobi Publishing, making her way up from proofreader to publishing editor in only three years. Sure, it was in the textbook division, but it was as close as she was going to get to being the publishing commissioning editor for now, and, at only twenty-five, she considered herself lucky. The unfortunate side effect of her job was that she was now the supervisor to all of the proofreaders, spending as much of her day double checking that they weren’t secretly on their phones as she was working on the layouts of the texts.
And now, apparently, cleaning up after them like their mother.
Rey grabbed some paper towels and used them to shield her hands from the questionable stickiness in the center of one of the tables, grimacing as she gathered up the trash and moved it into the trash can.
“I mean, it’s right here, people,” Rey grumbled under her breath.
The audacity, truly. Most of the people on her team were her age, if not older. She did her best not to think that it was a personal slight towards her; surely no one would have assumed that she would clean up after them, after all. But still, it chafed her to know that so many adults could just willfully leave behind their trash as if custodians weren’t people, too, who deserved respect.
“Hullo there. What’s this?” Rey wondered aloud as something was revealed below a particularly high pile of napkins.
It was a black moleskine notebook with a strange red emblem on the front. It looked well-worn and had the calling signs of being a personal manuscript, something a more eccentric author would send up to the fiction floor, one of probably twenty notebooks full of their masterpiece that they couldn’t be arsed to transfer onto a computer like someone from the modern world. Nevermind what it was doing on her floor, people had friends in different departments and sometimes they would lunch together. Rey couldn’t help but yearn for the days she had spent as a proofreader for that wonderful floor, allowing herself to dive into an author’s world and let the rest of her subpar life fall away.
Rey nibbled on her lip, testing the weight of the book in her hand. She had to open it, right? She had to return it to where it belonged. This wasn’t an invasion of anyone’s privacy. It wasn’t like she’d found someone’s secret diary or something, this was just a manuscript.
Mentally chastising herself for being so ridiculous, Rey opened it to a random page, letting the book open as it may. She was immediately struck by the gorgeous calligraphy on the page and knew her assumptions were true. Deciding that it couldn’t hurt, she sat down in a chair and began to read:
She'd been asleep for about an hour now, and already he felt his rut coming back, even with how satisfied he'd been not long before. That was the worst part of being with a human--they simply couldn't keep up with his refractory period.
Gently, he propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her. Her hair fanned out across her pillow, and her gorgeous, kissable lips were parted slightly.
She shifted again, mumbling something he couldn't quite catch, rolling over onto her stomach, his hand sliding across her waist to rest on her lower back as she moved. One leg hitched up, bent at the knee and she smashed her face into the pillow, a deep sigh leaving her.
Her lower half was covered by a thin sheet, tangling around her legs. His eyes followed the lines of her back, traveling over every dip and curve, taking in her small freckles and moles. She had dimples on her lower back, and for some reason, those were exceedingly arousing.
Slowly, he slid his hand down from her back, over the curve of her ass, dragging the sheet down with him.
The light coming in from the snow reflecting off the clouds outside highlighted the downy hair covering her skin, and he traced his fingers against them, seeing goosebumps rise under his caresses. She was still asleep, though her hips shifted, her thighs parting invitingly.
Lightly, he moved lower, letting his fingers trace around that area in between. She was damp, slightly sticky from his cum, and he felt his cock twitch in response, already hardening again.
She moaned softly into the fabric of her pillow, and he leaned forward to press a delicate line of kisses down her spine. Just as slowly, he made his way back up her body, stopping at her shoulder. “Sweetheart?” he murmured against her skin, delving one finger into her.
Her body jerked towards his hand, seeming to search for more. She turned her head to him, a sleepy smile on her lips as she hummed. “Hmm? Again already?”
He added another finger, marveling at how tightly her body gripped him. He gave slow, exploratory strokes, “Mmmhmmm,” he agreed, feeling her dampness become more pronounced. “I need to feel you again.” His mouth hovered just over her shoulder, watching her reactions to his ministrations.
Her eyes were still closed, but she was definitely awake now, her breath coming in sharp pants as she moved against his fingers, fucking herself back against them.
“I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asked, wondering if she was too sore to go beyond what he was already doing.
“No,” she sighed, breath coming more harshly as he plunged his fingers in again, tracing them along the velvet of her inner walls. “I’m a little tender, but don't stop.”
He smiled at that. No, he wouldn't stop. With the first wave of his rut having passed, he was able to focus a bit more, able to take more time with her.
He spread his fingers, scissoring her open to ready her for him. But first…
“Flip over for me,” he murmured, pulling his fingers out and moving back just enough to give her room to move. She obeyed immediately, rolling over onto her back and resting her hands on either side of her head, watching him with lidded eyes.
He moved over her, caging her in with his arms as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Sliding lower, he kissed his way down her neck, down the valley that separated the mounds of her breasts and across her navel, finally reaching his destination.
He had to taste her. Slipping his hands beneath her thighs, he spread them wide, baring her to him. She bent her legs at the knee, draping one over his shoulder as he leaned forward to lay the flat of his tongue against her, licking a long line from her entrance up to her clit.
She groaned, bucking her hips forward, one hand flying up to cover her mouth. With his free hand, he reached up and wrenched it away. “I want to hear you. I want everyone within range to hear you come apart on my tongue,” he growled against her.
Satisfied, he dove back in, laving his tongue along her. He could taste both of them, her sweetness mixed with his slightly bitterness and it made him feel dizzy, drunk on the knowledge that she had been marked by him.
She gripped the pillow tightly, her other hand skimming down her body to weave itself into his hair. She pulled, sending a fresh rush of blood straight down to his cock.
Her gasps and moans filled the quiet air, her thighs trembling under his assault. Gingerly, he slid one finger back into her, curling it to hit a particularly spongy patch of flesh at the front of her inner walls. She cried out, trying to close her legs and secure his hand in place.
Smirking against her, he took that sensitive bundle into his mouth and sucked, shoving her legs back open. Her back arched, straining as he brought her closer. “That's it, sweetheart,” he purred encouragingly, nuzzling closer against her wet heat.
She came a moment later, her body stiffening as her grip on his hair became just this side of painful and she flooded his mouth, coating his lips and chin with her arousal.
He licked up every drop he could, pausing only to ghost his mouth along her inner thigh as her breathing slowed. Lifting his head, he smiled up at her. She was lovely; flushed with a light sheen of sweat glistening between her breasts. His gaze settled on the dusky rose color of her nipples, muted softly from the light filtering in.
He moved to sit, taking her hand and pulling her into his lap. She settled against him, molding perfectly as her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders.
He gazed at her for a moment taking in the dusting of freckles across her face, the way the green and golden coloring in her eyes swirled together in the dim light.
His vision was excellent, even in near perfect darkness. And to his eyes she was stunning. His lips parted, speechless, as his heart thundered more quickly.
She searched his face for a long moment, concern appearing. “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice rough from moaning for him. Gently, she brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, twisting her hand to cup it instead.
Nodding, unable to speak, he shifted beneath her, lining himself up. One hand tangled in her hair, pulling her forward to capture her lips as he pushed into her. She gasped into his mouth, and he groaned back as he buried himself to the hilt.
She felt so fucking good, her warmth wrapping around him like a vice, clenching him tightly. He stayed still, exploring her mouth further, waiting for her body to adjust further before he began to move, thrusting up into her with slow, calculated strokes.
Releasing his hold on her hair, he moved both hands down to her hips, using his strength to lift her body up and then to drag her back down against him, setting a steady rhythm.
Kira moaned again, her head falling back, exposing the line of her throat. He moved his mouth to the spot just over her pulse and sucked a long bruise into it, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into her neck and finish claiming her.
It was as though a fog lifted when he was inside her, like the stars aligned and a pathway was made clear. It reminded him of an old quote from Mark Twain, something along the lines of: The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.
This was definitely the why; this woman in his arms, breathing his name like a prayer.
He fucked up into her harder, feeling his knot starting to enlarge. She felt it too, for she leaned into him and pressed her lips to his ear, whispering, “Knot me, Kylo.”
He was helpless to deny her, giving her a few more punishing thrusts that bowed her spine, her nails digging into his shoulders. She came, her walls fluttering around him before bearing down, holding him in place.
He locked into her with a guttural moan, pulling her hips down even further against him, leaving the faintest imprint of teeth against the junction where her shoulder met her neck as he poured himself into her. It would fade in a few minutes, a ghost of what could have been.
She sagged against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, moving his fingers across her spine as their heart rates slowed.
Rey couldn’t remember the last time she blushed this hard. And, unfortunately, her face wasn’t the only place she was feeling uncomfortably warm. Rey rubbed her thighs together beneath her beige pencil skirt, chewing on her lip a moment as she skimmed over the pages again. Yes, it was definitely that hot, even upon a second reading.
Rey looked at the cover again, searching for a sign of who had written it. She hadn’t seen the author’s name inside the cover, and upon flipping it to the back cover, she was dismayed to find it wasn’t there, either. She flipped it back over again, staring at the emblem on the front.
There was something about that symbol, the bright red nearly blinding against the soft black. It was a hexagon with a circle in the middle, almost like a flower. Something about it pinged in her memory. Rey had...seen that symbol somewhere before. But where?
Unable to help herself, Rey opened the book again and started from page one. Who cared who the author was, she needed to read more. She deserved this, she reasoned, for cleaning up after everyone, for being such a hard worker and pushing for her promotion and sacrificing all social interactions in order to get there. If someone was going to leave this wonderful manuscript down here, she would be rewarded reading it.
“Hey, Rey? You have a phone call on line one with Mr. Kenobi.”
Rey nearly jumped out of her skin as her assistant, Jessika, stuck her head into the room.
“Rey?” Jessika asked. “Are you feeling okay? Your face is, like, really red.”
Rey’s eyes widened and she once more slammed the book shut, swallowing thickly before finally standing up.
“I’m--I’m totally fine, Jessika. Thank you.” Rey smoothed her skirt down and then looked at Jessika again, trying to collect herself. She brought the notebook to her chest, not willing to part with it yet. Whoever left it down here would just have to wait until she finished reading it. She deserved this.
“Oh, hey, isn’t that Ben’s notebook?” Jessika asked, pointing at Rey’s chest.
What?
“What?” Rey choked out.
“You know, Ben Solo? That really big, quiet guy who sits towards the back? Super tall, super big.” For emphasis, Jessika wiggled her eyebrows, tone dripping with a suggestion that was not at all right for the workplace.
Rey held the notebook away from her like it had burned her. Of course she knew who Ben Solo was, she was his supervisor. He was ten years her senior and nearly half a foot taller than her, cutting an intimidating figure even when he was just sitting in a cubicle that was far too small for his massive frame. He had been working at Jinn & Kenobi for six years, toiling away as a proofreader from floor to floor. Every time a promotion had come up, he had been denied, his superiors often citing his inability to work well with others. Every interaction Rey had had with him had often ended in an uncomfortable silence, his velvet brown eyes always searching hers endlessly as if looking for the answer to a question he never asked.
Ben Solo had written this?
“He’s always writing in that thing,” Jessika continued to prattle on.
“Wait, what? You’re telling me that you’ve seen him writing in this book, here, at work, and you never told me before?” Rey asked.
“Well, yeah. Isn’t that just his planner or something?” Jessika asked, brows furrowed. She searched Rey’s face and then raised an eyebrow. “Is it...not his planner?”
“It’s nothing,” Rey bleated, almost too quickly. “I mean, it’s nothing for you to worry about. I have to go!” Rey brought the book back to her chest, feeling her heart thud against the emblem. It looked less conspicuous with the back facing away from her. Hopefully no one else noticed her carrying it.
“Well, yeah. Mr. Kenobi is waiting for you,” Jessika reminded her.
“Right!” Rey squaked. “Come on, Jess. We’ve got work to do!”
Jessika raised an eyebrow as Rey squeezed past her, craning her neck a moment as if she could see what was in the book.
“Whatever you say, boss lady,” Jessika sing-songed as she followed Rey back to their office.
Rey walked as quickly as she could in her taupe heels, keeping her eyes as focused on her office door as possible. She would have to talk to Ben about this. She had to talk to Ben about this. WIthout Jessika’s comment, she could have let it go. But to know that he was writing something like this at work meant that she had to set aside her embarrassment and confront it. Maybe he could have gotten away with it on the fiction floors, but here, where they worked on elementary school textbooks, writing smut was not okay.
Now if only she could stop thinking about those sinful words in her head, she could get her job done.
___________
He was going to have a god damned panic attack if he didn't find his notebook like right now. Ben Solo was nothing if not a perfectionist, with every single little thing on his desk having a very specific home. If his sticky notes were moved even slightly out of place, someone was going to pay. And by pay, that usually meant he was going to glare daggers at their back because he was too shy to actually do anything about it.
He was soft--too soft, some people had said, mainly his father. So what if he had daddy issues? So what if he didn't feel the need to start a fight because someone had bumped him in the break room when he took his microwave noodles out, splashing burning hot liquid all over his hand and onto the floor.
That had been earlier in the day, and now that he’d gotten back to his desk, he’d realized his beloved notebook was gone. What if someone had found it? Oh, god. What if someone was reading it? Shit, that was even worse. He chewed on his lip as he glanced around, his heart rate skyrocketing.
Writing smut in a notebook as a guy was probably just as bad as writing poetry. Stupid stereotypes. But, it relaxed him, allowed him to indulge in a fantasy that had swept into his life three years ago in the form of Rey. The woman had thrived in this setting whereas he'd struggled, getting turned down for promotion after promotion while he'd watched as she'd surpassed him, becoming his supervisor.
It was by no mistake that his notebook was filled with basically everything imaginable he wanted to do to her. With her pencil skirts that showed off her perfect ass, it was a struggle to concentrate when she was around, when all he wanted to do was pull his cock out and start jerking it, preferably onto her pretty tongue. It was physically painful, and more often than not, he found himself using that very notebook to hide his erection every time she was around, just pretending his lap was the perfect spot to hold onto the damned thing while he worked on editing fucking textbooks. And now it was gone!
What if she came by and he wasn't able to control himself? Nothing was more embarrassing than popping a boner on your boss.
Which had led to the names Kylo and Kira in the notebook. That way, on the extremely off chance that someone could pry the book from his fingers, they wouldn't immediately recognize it for what it was. A guy and his desperate quest to be silently ignored while simultaneously fantasizing about fucking his boss on her desk, against the wall, up against the floor-to-ceiling windows in her office…
Until then, he had work to do, and this textbook wasn't going to edit itself. Hopefully, if someone found it, they'd have the common sense to just leave the thing alone. Don't touch things that aren't yours and all that.
With a groan, he threw himself back into his work, having a hard time concentrating on the pages as the minutes crept by. There was only so much of these elementary books he could take. He wanted to go to the fiction floor so badly, yet he'd been denied every time. A shot of envy filled him as he allowed himself to lean back in his chair and picture hate-fucking her. He'd spread her wide, hands parting her thighs. She’d reach between them to rub at her clit, begging him for more. He'd swat her hand away. No, she wasn't allowed to touch herself without him giving permission.
His watch insisted it was almost time for lunch, and as soon as the time came, he bolted from his seat (not without some serious readjusting of his cock beforehand), eyes scouring over every desk and cubicle as he headed to the break room. It wasn't there. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck. He saw Rey’s retreating back as she hurried back to her office, clutching something against her chest. Probably a manuscript. He paused to admire the view for a long moment, lingering over the swell of her hips. They'd fit perfectly in his hands.
He shook his head. He needed to stop being a fucking creep. Things like that would lead to a sexual harassment accusation, and then he'd be fired. Poof, bye bye hopes and dreams. And bye bye Rey.
The break room was empty. Like, truly empty; it was far cleaner than it'd ever been before. All of the trash was gone for once, and he did a quick scan of the room. Nope, it wasn't here either. With a heavy sigh, he went to the fridge and grabbed his lunch. He sat down in his usual spot, in the corner, with his back to the wall, and opened his lunchbag. God damn it! Someone had stolen his pudding. Again.
