17. Chapter 17

She has of course heard other girls talk about their respective first times. It's the type of conversation one can't help being privy to, living in a dormitory.

Tallie's had been with a Muggle boyfriend— "more of a summer fling, really"— who lived next door to her paternal grandparents, also Muggles. He'd put on a punk rock album and the act itself had lasted half a song, but he'd taken her to the movies afterwards and bought her flowers.

Jess' had been with a Ravenclaw boy who graduated last year. It had happened during winter break, and the Pavas' house-elf had appeared in the middle of the deed with a tea tray.

Jannah has always been less forthcoming about her sex life compared to Tallie and Jess, but she'd deigned to tell her roommates that her first had been a girl who went to Beauxbatons, the French wizarding school.

Rose mercifully spared Rey the details of the first time she and Finn had done it but, the day after, Rey could just tell. Her two best friends had been quite incapable of maintaining eye contact with each other even as they held hands and blushed, and Finn hadn't stopped grinning for, like, a week.

Overall, the consensus seems to be that the first time can be awkward but, if it's someone you have feelings for, it can be good.

Rey definitely has feelings for Ben Solo, even if she's not sure what they are yet.

So that means it's going to be good, right?

Bracketed between her spread thighs, his hips push forward slightly. The tip of his cock nudges at her entrance and she jolts beneath him.

"Wait," she squeaks out, clutching his bicep.

Sweat dots his pale brow. Flushes of red mottle the smooth skin of his collarbones and chest. But he freezes immediately, as still as a statue. Watching her carefully with soft, dark eyes.

"Shall we stop?" he asks her, his tone achingly gentle.

"No, but—" Rey swallows. She almost doesn't complete the sentence, such is the trepidation that has turned her nerves into brittle glass.

What do you want? She remembers his lush mouth murmuring those words against her breast that afternoon in his office. You have to tell me what you want.

"You— you have to hold me," she says through a lump in her throat. "After, I mean. I want you to hold me."

His features tense for the briefest of moments.

Long enough, however, for her to start feeling afraid that he'll refuse.

But then he's kissing her. A sweet kiss, meant to reassure. He pulls away slightly to mumble, "I'll hold you any damn time you want, for as long as you'll let me" before slanting his mouth over hers again.

Her heart is singing as she eagerly parts her lips for him. His tongue slides against hers in a gentle caress and she's closing her eyes as their hips slot together and he is pushing forward, and inside, and—

Rey stifles a sharp intake of breath against Solo's lips as the first few inches of him slide past her entrance. His cock is so much thicker than his fingers, but she's wet enough that it doesn't feel uncomfortable— just, well, weird.

"We good?" he asks.

Through gritted teeth.

The muscles of his upper arm are coiled beneath her fingertips, as if the entirety of his being has gone taut with restraint.

"Yeah." Rey nods for good measure, but their faces are so close together that her forehead knocks against his. Oops. "Sorry."

Solo chuckles, giving her lips another quick peck. "It's fine."

"You may— er, proceed."

Proceed? She could kick herself.

He slips in further by another inch. Carefully, so carefully. Opening her up. It's not long before a twinge of pain stabs at her and she winces.

Solo stops moving at once. With her eyes at half-mast, Rey glimpses his stricken expression before he bows his head to pepper soothing kisses and hushed apologies along her jawline.

He's shaking like a leaf.

"I'm okay," she says. "Just need a little..." She reaches down between their bodies to circle a finger on her clit. Her hand accidentally brushes against his cock as she does so and he makes a sound like she's just killed him.

It's... nice, to have that kind of effect on someone. She could get addicted to the feeling if she's not cautious.

Rey doesn't want to be cautious.

Not tonight.

"You'll make it fit, won't you, professor?" she whispers in Solo's ear.

Delighting at the way he shudders in response.

"Yeah." There it is again, that fascinating, low growl to his tone as he kisses a feather-light trail down her neck, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. "Yeah, baby, I'll make it fit."

It's exactly what Rey needs. Dirty words, dirty endearments, added stimulation. To feel like a small and cared-for thing, to feel like a temptress in her shabby knee socks. She urges him on, shimmying her hips against his, and more of his length sinks into her.

Fuck.

Fuck, he is so big.

She is utterly stretched.

But the worst seems to be over. She relaxes slightly. "See? Not so bad," she quips.

"Rey." Solo lifts his head from the slope of her neck, looking at her with a pained expression. "It's— it's not all the way in."

Her eyes widen.

She gulps.

His gaze remains locked onto hers as he experiments with a shallow thrust. Pulling back by a hair's breadth, then pushing forward again. He repeats the process a few more times, intently studying her face— and she kind of wishes that he wouldn't, because she's pretty sure that the faces she's making are ridiculous. She's all scrunched up nose and fluttering eyelids and twisted mouth.

Her features don't know how to arrange themselves in response to all of the sensations that are currently rippling through her. This strange, bewildering mix of odd and good and too much and not enough.

"Shit." Like a tower collapsing, like someone giving up the fight, Solo buries his face in the crook where her neck meets her shoulder as he rocks against her. Into her. "You feel amazing, my God—"

Rey thinks about it for a few heartbeats before deciding that she means it when she tells him, "You, too." The more her body gets used to his thrusts, the more she comes to realize that this just might be the best thing ever.

It's the way he moves. The gentle friction of him sliding along her inner walls. Drawing out her wetness until she's flooded, there's really no other word for it, and it's her turn to experiment— she mimics the rolling of his hips with her own.

Inadvertently changing the angle.

Inadvertently wedging him deeper inside her.

They both groan out loud.

He takes over the job of massaging her clit, leaving her hand free to explore the glorious muscles of his abdomen. To trail up the ladder of his ribs, then run down his back. To sink quivering fingers into his sinews in an effort to ground herself as he fills her to the brim.

Or, well, almost to the brim, apparently.

"Can— can you take a little more?" Although his words are as strangled as if they've clawed their way up from out of his chest, there's something about the way he says them that lets her know it's all right to refuse. That, if she says no, he will go no further.

But hadn't she fantasized about showing him that she could take it all?

"Yeah, I can," she replies.

And she shifts her hips so that she can envelop another inch of him.

A choking sort of noise issues from the back of Solo's throat. That legendary control of his cracks into messy halves and he almost brusquely pushes in some more, and some wild, dark impulse flickers through the depths of Rey's soul.

What is the point of all of these risks they're taking if they hold back when they're together?

"Professor Solo," Rey all but whines, barely recognizing this voice of hers that's so breathless, pitched high with need. "You said you'd make it fit. You promised."

He moves a little higher up her body at the same time that he hooks one large hand under her knee, readjusting the spread of her thighs. He mutters another expletive against her cheek. His lashes rustle against against her temple as he closes his eyes—

— and there is a bright, fleeting stab of intense discomfort that causes Rey's spine to arch, causes her to rake her fingernails down Solo's broad, broad back as he hilts himself inside her.

To the root.

"Fuck," she wheezes, "you're bloody huge—"

He is silent, moving only his head to nuzzle at her cheek. It's an apologetic gesture, unbearably sweet given that he is trembling. He seems, for all intents and purposes, unable to speak.

Rey allows herself some time to get used to being so totally stretched. It's not bad, once she's warmed up to it. The pressure brings with it a kind of adrenaline rush that diminishes whatever pain she'd felt.

And she soon begins to want more. She's curious to see for herself what's at the end of this— to see what's waiting for them both.

She stares up at the ceiling over Solo's shoulder. "You can move now," she tells him.

And, slowly, he does.

It's nothing more than a gentle rocking at first. He doesn't pull out completely with each thrust, swirling his hips against hers every once in a while to prevent the rhythm from becoming too mechanical. To keep her guessing.

She likes it very much. Likes how he slips one arm between her back and the couch so that he can gather her close. She likes being skin-to-skin and feeling so tiny all smushed up against his wide chest while he pants in her ear.

And she absolutely loves what's going on down there. Especially when she starts meeting his thrusts as best as she can given that she's pinned beneath him.

He responds to that like she's just given him a new lease on life. Raining sloppy kisses all over her face and throat, his dark eyes shining. It doesn't take very long at all for the stirrings of pleasure to build anew in her core.

Higher, she thinks nonsensically as she wraps her arms around his neck, and maybe she actually said that out loud or he sees it written all over her features, because he pumps into her a little more forcefully.

"Oh..." She sounds like she's sobbing. Maybe she is. She just feels so full. So full and so small and so deliciously wrecked. "Oh, God, I can't— can't believe it actually—"

"It almost didn't." Solo, for his part, sounds just as ruined as she is. "I didn't think you'd be able to take it all— but you did—" And this time, he does pull out all the way, only to very slowly, very deliberately slam into her, and she tosses her head back on a raspy shout, and he does it again and again and again, his sinful mouth singing her dirty praises all the while. "You did— you're taking all of my cock in that tight little cunt... because you're a good girl..." She nods desperately, letting that deep firewhisky voice resound in her ears until it touches off inner chords within her soul, letting his depraved words anchor her and send her heart off into the clouds at the same time. "A good girl who lets me stretch her out," Solo continues in a low, rumbling murmur that's streaked at the edges with a certain dark savagery, "who makes the most gorgeous faces while getting fucked— who makes the sounds I'll be dreaming about—"

The last remnants of Rey's self-consciousness vanish, swallowed up by the pleasure and the thrill. He thinks she's beautiful. He likes the sounds she makes. He doesn't mind her body hair, her small breasts, her utter lack of sophistication. She moves with him, her figure writhing under his, the flickering torchlight keeping time with the canting of her hips.

With another one of those devastatingly primal growls of his, Solo props himself up over her with both palms squarely on either side of her shoulders. His thrusts pick up speed and ferocity, the ivory skin of his neck and chest flushing red with exertion, sweat dampening his brow.

She thinks he's a beautiful man, and she's still thinking that when he leans in and captures her lips in a filthy kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth with a languid, lingering rhythm that's in stark contrast to the frantic tempo of his cock in her cunt. She's so close now, her thighs are locked around his waist and her fingertips are digging indents into his rock-solid haunches as she chases what's almost within her grasp, glimmering in the distance like a sun-fired coast while every stroke of his hips is a wave bringing her closer and closer to shore...

And the next time he shifts those hips, the tip of his cock hits a spot inside her that makes her wrench her lips away from his as she shouts, and he is peering down at her with something like triumph, honing in on that spot with the same meticulous precision that he shows his spellwork, pounding into her hard and fast—

"I'm going to come," Rey hears herself whimper from what seems like very far away. "You're going to make me come, sir—"

"Then do it, Miss Niima." Solo's tone is like ragged silk, resonant with an air of command that she feels in her damn clit. "Be a good girl and come on your professor's cock."

He hits that spot inside her again while simultaneously rocking his hips down onto hers in a way that has his pubic bone grinding against her clit, and it's too much, she's off— like fireworks, like a sail, like flying. She sends her bliss up into the very rafters on the crest of a hoarse, gasping cry, and she doesn't think it's possible that she'll ever come back down.

Through the ringing in her ears, she vaguely hears Solo telling her that she's so pretty when she comes. Vaguely feels him dotting kisses along her temple and the curve of her cheek. He fucks her through her aftershocks while she lies beneath him all limp and pliant, all dazed and content. It is its own sort of heaven, to be covered by this big, big man. To just let him have his way with her.

Their gazes collide and hold again as his rhythm stutters. His jaw is slack, his breath emerging in short puffs that mingle with the wet slap of skin against skin and the creak of the couch springs.

"Are you going to come in me?" Rey asks, her eyes wide.

He searches her face. As if gauging her mood, as if trying to figure out what she wants him to say.

Whatever he sees in her expression makes him grunt, "Yeah. Gonna fill you up."

How her aching cunt throbs at that. "I want you to, sir," she moans. "Want to feel your come dripping out of my pussy—"

And that's as far as she gets before he buries the entirety of his length inside her in one swift, hard stroke, practically folding her body in half as he muffles a roar into her neck. Her toes curl at the sudden flood of warmth that drenches her walls, more trickling in with each haphazard thrust that he then makes, and finally it's over, finally he's collapsing on top of her and their arms are wrapping around each other as they lie tangled in a sweaty heap.

Hearts racing.

Jagged breaths suffusing the air of a space that's theirs alone.

Rey doesn't know how long she and Solo stay like that. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours.

He doesn't move his head from where he's tucked it against the slope of her neck.

Gradually, the drawn-out silence becomes just the tiniest bit awkward. They start tensing up at the same time, both hyper-aware of each other but unsure what to say.

Unsure what to do next.

Rey inhales deeply and then attempts to put all that she's feeling into words.

"Bloody hell," is all she can manage.

Solo chuckles, relaxing. "Same."

It's yet another strange sensation when he slips out of her, their combined— fluids— smearing on her thighs. But the oddness of that is soon eclipsed by the very real fear that he won't make good on his promise, that he won't—

Solo presses another lingering kiss to her lips. Then, without pulling away, he rolls them both over so that she's on top. There is no sense of urgency to this kiss, it's drowsy and soft— the inside of Rey's chest feels warm and tight in the best and most radiant of ways possible by the time she lifts her mouth from his and rests her cheek just below his collarbone. His arms tighten around her and she sighs happily, breathing in the scent of his bare skin.

A thought occurs to her. "Did you bring my knickers?"

"They're in the pocket of my suit," he mumbles, nuzzling at her hair.

"Why'd you steal them, anyhow?"

"Just wanted to keep you with me during the day."

It's probably kind of sad that this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to her. But she doesn't mind. Her eyes are already drifting shut, lulled as she is by the pulsing light of the torches and the steady beat of his heart and the golden haze of her afterglow.

He clears his throat. "I've never held anyone. After, I mean," he haltingly remarks, his tone solemn. "My previous experiences were... not like this. I am a private sort of person, I don't— didn't— like getting too close. But you have a manner of asking for things that makes me want to give them to you."

Rey peeks up at him. His eyes are squeezed shut but he's blushing, all the way to the tips of the adorably large ears that are poking out from his bedraggled hair.

"And this is... okay?" she tentatively queries.

He tightens his embrace, the fingers of one hand tracing patterns on the small of her back. "It's very nice, I find." A sleepy, lopsided grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. "In this way, you, too, are my first."