36. Chapter 36

“I think that you should go ahead and put it in my bum,” Rey tells Ben on Sunday afternoon.

He promptly chokes on his own spit.

She waits with sublime patience for him to regain his composure. They’re on the lumpy couch in the Room of Hidden Things and she’s doing her homework astride his lap while he reads a book.

Or, well, she’d been doing her homework.

Now she’s just looking expectantly at him while he sputters.

The book is a Muggle biography, and he’s currently clutching it in what appears to be a death grip. She swears that she can hear its spine crackling.

“You’re not serious,” he finally says, his tone flat but somehow also challenging at the same time.

“I am, actually.” Rey’s hand slips slowly up the front of Ben’s pale blue button-down, her fingers coming to rest at the edge of his collar, curling into it, beseeching. “I’ve been contemplating it, like you told me to. And I do believe that I want you to be all my firsts.”

It’s the truth, plain and simple. After spending the last few days turning it over in her head, she’s arrived at the conclusion that she wants to try it at least once. She’s really curious about it.

And she knows that she can count on Ben to make it good for her, or at least to ensure that she’s as comfortable as possible. She couldn’t care less about all those other relationships that he thinks she’ll have in the future—she trusts him with this.

“I just don’t want you to rush into—” he starts to say, but that’s as far as he gets because she’s tugging him down by his collar and kissing him.

His mouth had already been open in mid-sentence. It’s the easiest thing in the world to slip her tongue inside.

Over the months, Rey has come to fancy herself as an adequate sort of kisser. She and Ben certainly engage in this act often enough for her to hone her technique. She sets the rhythm that she knows drives him crazy, the teasing little nibbles and slow flicks of her tongue that gradually build up into something much sharper, something much hungrier. His book and her homework fall to the floor beside the shoes they’d kicked off earlier with soft thuds that she’s not really in any state of mind to spend more than half of a second registering—and, judging from the ardent way that Ben is returning her kiss, it’s the same for him as well.

She twists in the circle of his arms until she’s straddling him, wishing that she’d thought ahead and worn a skirt for easier access. But maybe this is good, too—the tenting in his black trousers nestled against the crotch of her blue jeans, the friction dulled somewhat by fabric yet all her nerve endings straining to overcome. It’s not enough in all the best ways, and Ben’s hands are busy undoing the buns of her hair and rucking up her faded old T-shirt, and they’re breaking apart so that he can pull it over her head, and she’s falling back upon him and kissing him while he plays with her breasts until her head spins.

Rey runs out of breath all too soon, but she knows enough by now to abstain from stubbornly mashing her lips against Ben’s until she’s blue in the face. Instead, she transfers her attentions to his neck, sucking gently at his smooth, pale skin while her hands busy themselves with unfastening the buttons of his shirt.

Ben chuckles hoarsely. She can feel him smiling against her temple. “You’ve really improved, Miss Niima.”

“I s’pose that my instructor was competent enough in this regard,” she sniffs primly, which only makes him laugh again—a laugh that dies a strangled, whimper-streaked death in his throat when her teeth dig into his collarbone.

He breathes heavily, hard between her thighs, as her mouth makes its way down, her impatient fingers moving aside the folds of his unbuttoned shirt. Merlin, but she’ll never get over how fit he is, his chest solid and vast and nicely sculpted and the muscles of his abdomen taut and unyielding and defined, all encased by surprisingly soft skin that’s given to flushing so generously under her ministrations.

Rey much prefers this to homework. After making the mistake of telling Ben that she’d fallen behind on all the things that she needed to do to make up for the classes she’d missed while convalescing, he’d insisted that she had to spend the whole of this afternoon studying and writing her essays under his watchful eye.

Thankfully, he’s not putting up much of a fight now.

Instead, he’s leaning back against the arm of the couch, unclasping her bra, unzipping her jeans, slipping one thick finger beneath the band of her knickers. She sighs happily as he gently pumps and presses her lips to his again, no thought left to her but to live for this. Pretty soon he’s got her naked while his belt and trousers are undone, his briefs pushed down his rangy hips as she makes a slick mess of his erection, rubbing herself along the length of it. She lavishes kisses on his stern, beloved features and she marks his broad chest with her teeth and she rubs her dripping cunt all over him until they’ve both forgotten themselves and there is only the haze of desire suffusing the room with all its towers of forgotten treasures.

“Good girl,” Ben mutters, sucking at the round of her shoulder as she nibbles at his ear and undulates against him. “Getting my cock all nice and wet so I can shove it into that tight cunt.”

As always, a dark thrill flutters through Rey at such dirty words couched in that deep voice with the slightest hint of a rasp. He’s got one hand buried in her hair while the other is settled loosely at her waist; he’s letting her set the pace that she wants and it makes her feel powerful, makes her feel capable of doing anything.

Of saying anything.

“Just my cunt?” She locks her thighs around him for support, cradling his face in her hands while continuing to thrust her hips. “You want to fuck my ass, too, right?”

His jaw clenches, and she can no longer resist the urge to litter the sharp line of it with kisses, reveling in the little pinpricks of scratchy sensation offered by the barest hint of stubble.

“Don’t run from it anymore, Ben. I—” The sentence catches in her throat as the tip of his cock nudges at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. “I really want you to,” she continues in a more breathless tone. “It’s going to be even tighter than my mouth or my pussy, don’t you think?”

His fingers spasm at her waist, and that’s all the encouragement that she needs to just go with it. “You’d stretch me out so much,” she purrs in his ear. “Maybe I’ll even cry a little. Would you like that, professor? Your student crying because she’s got your cock in her ass?”

“Rey.” Ben says her name like he can’t make up his mind whether he wants her to stop or to never stop. He tries so hard to hide it, but deep down inside he is a wicked man and he makes her bold enough to be wicked, too. He’s shuddering, and there is something compulsive in the way his hand finally, finally drifts lower, exploring the curve of her buttocks.

“Should never have shown you that damn mirror,” he growls into the slope of her neck.

“I like that you did.” She notches the tip of his length inside her cunt with a—a rather expert roll of her hips, if she does say so herself—and they both groan. “I like that we can try new things and that you always make sure to take care of me.” Her teeth dig into her bottom lip and her spine arches as she sinks down onto him, inch by gloriously agonizing inch.

Ben leans forward to mouth at her breasts, giving her the stimulation that she needs to take him deeper. Rey clutches at the back of his head, gasping out profanities as more of his thick length disappears inside her. “So big,” she hears herself whimpering, “too much,” her mind going into that dark and secret place where she is small but safe and she is enough for him, and finally—

—Finally, with one last wiggle of her hips, she seats herself fully on his cock, her lips parting to issue a choked little sob.

She can barely move. Impaled on him. Dripping all over him.

“Shit.” Ben’s eyes are as wide as moons as he looks down at where they are joined, his gaze lingering on the faint outline of his erection in her stomach. His hands dart to her hips as if out of instinct, and perhaps it is also instinct on her part—some sudden thrill of sheer mischief—that causes her to slap them away.

“I’m in charge today, Professor Solo,” Rey croons. “Seeing as you can’t make up your mind about what you want to do to me. You’re all talk, aren’t you?”

“I have made up my mind,” he sullenly retorts, but then she’s moving, and all his bravado flickers out like a candle flame before a stiff breeze. He tips his head back, his eyes fluttering shut and his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and she rides him to the sounds of the old couch creaking and his dazed, primal grunts.

It's far from the first time that they’ve shagged with her on top, but she doesn’t think that she’ll ever get used to what a pretty picture he makes, laying back like this with his bare chest covered in her love bites and his plush, kiss-stung lips slightly parted as she has her way with him. And it’s not long at all before she’s close and she’s looping her arms around his neck, straining into him, the two of them kissing with haphazard fierceness, with her moaning into his mouth every time her hips grind down and he hits all the good spots inside her.

“That’s it, baby,” he grates out, with a slow, building heat. “Fuck that tiny pussy on my cock, use me, you deserve it. Love watching those perfect tits jiggle. Love watching that freckled little stomach bulge.”

She clamps down on him at those words and, spurned from their bid to dictate the pace, his large hand drifts to her ass. Kneading, caressing. Spreading her cheeks. Slapping them gently. And, oh, she’s thinking that she just might love this an inordinate amount, his every touch lighting her on fire and his erection twitching and throbbing between her inner walls from how much he likes her backside. From how badly he desires every inch of her. She lifts herself up and down his erection, stars exploding behind her eyes every time gravity causes her to take him to the root. She’s soaring high, towering above him, his everything, and when he’s prone beneath her like this he is hers to command.

“I’m almost there,” she pants, clutching at his broad shoulders for leverage, bucking against him harder and faster. “Gonna come soon, gonna come bouncing on your cock, professor—”

It’s another thing that Rey’s learned to love, being vocal during sex. Ben growls his appreciation, and her toes curl as he reaches between their bodies to rub her clit. The burst of unexpected stimulation hauls her over the edge and she falls apart around him—

—and he breaches her ass with a finger coated in her arousal, working it in gently until it meets resistance.

Rey squeals.

If she’d been with anyone other than Ben, such a sound would have been embarrassing in all its rawness.

But there’s no room for embarrassment when she’s with him. His very presence takes up all of the space that there is.

The pressure in Rey’s ass sharpens and heightens the orgasm that’s already caught her by the throat. It goes on and on, for far longer than she ever thought would be possible. She writhes on Ben’s lap, her eyes screwed shut, her body not knowing whether to try to get away from such unbearable delight or to lean further into it, settling instead for some strange in-between, and he is far too mean in the sense that he doesn’t let her catch a break. He lightly pumps his finger in her ass and he thrusts his cock up into her cunt and she is screaming, gushing all over him, collapsing against his chest in limp bliss.

I could get used to this, Rey thinks dreamily as Ben locks an arm around her waist and fucks her through her aftershocks. He comes with a strangled groan and she smiles into the slope of his bare shoulder with all the contentment of someone who, somehow, always gets her way.

✨✨✨

April passes in an occasionally rain-spattered routine of schoolwork and Quidditch practice.

And training her ass.

That’s what Ben calls it, when they’re in the heat of the moment and he’s forgotten himself to talk dirty and just enjoy.

They’re stretching her ass so that it will one day be able to take his cock. Rey knows that he gets off on it—on even just the mere idea of it. She hadn’t expected to love it as much as she does, either, but there are nerve endings down there. And it’s just so intimate, letting him in like that.

With copious usage of lubrication charms, she’s soon able to accommodate two of Ben’s fingers. He works them in so carefully, one after the other, touching parts of her that she hasn’t even touched, thrusting with maddening slowness until she’s begging him to direct at least some of that attention to her cunt and make her come.

In his class, and whenever their paths cross in the hallways or out on the grounds, the air between them is charged. Every time their gazes collide, a shiver of pleasure courses through her and her stomach clenches as she remembers what this brooding, finely-dressed, prim and proper brick wall of a man does to her when they’re alone. And what she will let him do to her soon.

It's hard to care about anything else but, somehow, Rey manages. Life has to go on no matter what dastardly sex acts are being committed by you and your boyfriend—partner—thing—behind closed doors. Hogwarts falls into a state of calmness and normalcy for the rest of the month, and Rey falls into her usual routine without missing a beat, like she had never been clobbered by the Whomping Willow at all.

A part of that routine involves Finn and herself hanging around Rose’s Care of Magical Creatures class. Chewie is extra attentive to Rey these days, following her injury, and one cool spring afternoon he hands her a small homemade treacle cake while she’s standing by the fence outside his hut. A few feet away, Finn is unashamedly flirting with Rose, who is pretending to be too busy doling out vitamin pills to the diricawls to entertain him.

Rey emits a happy sigh, pulling out her aspen wand to transfigure a nearby branch into a pub table. She then conjures a fork and digs in.

“D’licious,” she says, her mouth full, and Chewie smiles behind his bushy reddish-brown beard.

“Glad to see your appetite’s none the worse for wear after that blasted tree kicked the crap out of you,” he tells her with a chortle. “A surer sign than anything that you’ll live.”

She wrinkles her nose at him. “Well, it’s not as though you were that concerned. You didn’t even visit me in the hospital wing.”

She regrets making the joke almost as soon as it leaves her lips, because Chewie immediately turns somber. He fidgets with the brass buttons of his greatcoat and she continues to inhale the treacle cake to cover up the awkwardness that has suddenly descended.

A popping sound similar to Apparition rends the air by her feet. She looks down to see one of the diricawls staring up at her with pleading blue eyes.

Actually, Rey always has to remind herself that these creatures are called diricawls. She’d known them as dodos while she’d been growing up isolated from the wizarding world. Muggles believe the plump, fluffy-feathered birds to be extinct but, in reality, they could disappear as a means of escaping danger and reappear somewhere else.

This particular diricawl apparently wants some of her treacle cake. “Can I—” she starts to ask Chewie, but he shakes his head.

“Sugar’s bad for ‘em, it’s a load of empty calories.” He makes a shooing motion at the bird and it retorts with an indignant squawk, flapping its tiny, flightless wings before vanishing into thin air.

It rematerializes among Chewie’s students—right on top of Keyan Farlander. Rey eats her treacle cake and takes a vicious, vengeful delight in the panicked screaming and flailing that ensue among him and his friends. She can’t wait to tell Tallie.

Finn and Rose have collapsed against each other, doubled over laughing. Keyan glares at them from underneath a whirl of feathers. “My father will hear about this!”

Rose snorts, severely unimpressed. “Come off it, Farlander, your dad literally works for my parents.”

Chewie guffaws, but then belatedly remembers that he’s a professor. He goes over to Keyan to untangle him from the diricawl’s clutches and, by the time, he returns to Rey’s side, she’s polished off the last of her cake.

The fence creaks as Chewie leans his considerable frame against it, his hands shoved into his pockets. He sighs, solemn once more.

“After you were brought to the hospital wing, I went into Muggle London to see your mum and dad. To break the news that you’d been injured,” he explains to Rey. “That’s why I wasn’t there when you woke up.”

“Oh.” It feels like the world has been yanked out from under Rey’s feet. “What did they…”

She trails off. Her question has already been answered, hasn’t it? Her parents did nothing. They haven’t come to see her. They haven’t so much as sent a get-well card or anything like that.

“Given the circumstances, I had to be vague,” Chewie continues, looking absolutely miserable. “You’re a special case and your guardians are… erratic. I could only say that you’d gotten into a sports accident and that it was serious, but you were going to be fine. They said that, in that case, there was probably no need for them to make the time to come up here.”

Rey can only wonder what kind of scene Chewie had walked into in the council flat. Her mother and father passed out, perhaps, or gambling with their equally good-for-nothing friends. The Hogwarts faculty had a meeting about her situation before she started attending, and it had been decided that Rey’s parents posed too much of a risk to the International Statute of Secrecy. There had also been fears of what they would do to Rey if they learned that she was a witch.

And Rey thinks about what she’d seen in the Mirror of Erised and all the realizations that she’d come to while gazing into it. She thinks about this past year with her friends and how Ben had told her that everyone was so worried when she’d been injured. And she glances around at the pumpkin patch and the sprawling grounds strewn with wildflowers and the other seventh years wrestling with the diricawls while the castle looms in the distance, tall and eternal and home.

“I’ll be all right,” she says, and she means it. She smiles at Chewie. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

✨✨✨

Much to her dismay, however, she is most definitely not all right that Friday, and it’s all because of Potions class.

They’re brewing a certain kind of antimycotic in the dimly lit, clammy dungeons. It’s Armitage Hux’s own invention that’s currently awaiting approval for clinical trials on patients afflicted with Spattergroit. Rey has no doubt that the recipe works, because Hux is a brilliant potioneer even if he has the charisma of a soggy tea towel, but the brewing process involves even more waiting around than usual—enough so that she and most of her classmates start to get restless in between steps.

One of the key ingredients is toad liver that Hux had pre-cured and suspended in a gelatinous solution. It’s surprisingly… bouncy.

“Will you lot cut that out!” Tallie hisses, giving the viscous green liquid in her cauldron a halfhearted poke.

Rey, Finn, and Gandris barely even notice that she’d spoken. They’re far too busy surreptitiously flicking extra toad livers at one another and snickering every time one of the projectiles ricochets off of somebody’s shoulder, nose, forehead, or ear.

Unfortunately, Rey is too focused on trying to exact revenge on Gandris for having hit her in the eye with a toad liver that she doesn’t notice Hux coming up behind her. It doesn’t occur to her that Gandris’ jaw has dropped in shock and that his horrified gaze is fixated on a point over her shoulder because all of her attention is zeroed in on taking careful aim at his open mouth.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Hux’s cold drawl startles Rey and, as she whirls around to face him, it is instinct, pure and simple, to hide the incriminating toad liver from his sight by chucking it into the nearest container, which happens to be her cauldron.

The unstable brew explodes, covering Rey, Hux, and all the nearby students in green slime.

After the screaming has died down and Rey is contemplating quitting school to eke out a humble existence in the Forbidden Forest, Hux casts a nonverbal cleaning charm on himself. “Miss Niima,” he grits out into the deathly quiet that has ensued, “you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Rey hangs her head. “Detention, sir.”

“Quite so.” Hux points a pale finger at Finn and Gandris. “And you two as well. In addition, sixty points from Gryffindor for wasting ingredients and disrupting my class—” Rey, Finn, and Gandris deflate—“each,” Hux finishes with satisfaction, and they tense. “A hundred and eighty points in all. Gone with the wind, just like my toad livers.”

“But, sir, that’s too much!” Finn protests.

“Would you care to make it two hundred?” Hux asks silkily. Finn falls into a mutinous silence. “I didn’t think so. Tonight, the three of you will be cleaning every single award, cup, plate, shield, statue, and medal in the Trophy Room. Without magic. In addition, you have failed today’s brewing. Now get out of my sight.”

He sweeps away, leaving Rey, Finn, and Gandris to pack up their things and scurry out of the dungeons as the other Gryffindors glare at their retreating backs.

✨✨✨

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ben says after Rey stomps into his office on Saturday afternoon while he’s grading and immediately parks her butt on his lap and flings her arms around his neck and tells him her whole sorry tale, “but you kind of had it coming.”

She lifts her head to narrow her eyes at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am, but…” Ben scratches his freshly-shaved jaw, staring down at her with a vaguely amused half-smile. “Prepping toad livers for brewing is no easy task.”

“You’re a toad liver,” Rey mumbles, pouting.

Ben’s dark eyes crinkle at the corners. He presses a contrite kiss to her lips, and she’s only pretending to be scowling once he pulls away. “But, Ben,” she complains, “Hux is so mean. He deducted a hundred and eighty points—that’s a lot, by the way.” She holds her right hand up to his face. “And we had to dust and polish every single trophy. Look, my fingers are worked to the bone.”

There’s actually nothing wrong with her fingers. They look perfectly normal, even if they’re a bit on the sore side, but Ben gamely croons, “Poor baby” and kisses each one.

“My back hurts, too,” Rey ventures, encouraged.

“We certainly can’t have that.”

Ben stands up and carries her to the couch, where she spends a very enjoyable next few minutes being slowly undressed by him, his hands and his mouth tracing the notches in her spine as her top is peeled away from it.

She’s somewhat befuddled when he extricates himself from her once she’s completely naked. She sits back on the couch, observing with a quizzical gaze as he walks over to his desk, takes the blackthorn wand that had been left resting atop it, and retrieves something from a drawer that’s locked down with what is an uncommonly large amount of security spells, even by his standards.

Then he closes the distance between them once more, measured steps stopping an inch or so away from the edge of the couch. And he shows her what is in his left hand.

Rey blinks.

It’s not as though she doesn’t know what it is.

But she just can’t believe that Ben is holding one.

And it’s red.

A deep, rich scarlet. Although the material seems to be crystalline in nature, it also looks like it would be silky and supple to the touch. A thin, softly rounded tip gently flares out into a curving middle, and then a notch, and then a circular base that’s rather fancily embossed with a yellow diamond and golden fleur-de-lis.

Leave it to Ben Solo to get one that’s so posh, Rey quips to herself, but then she remembers that this thing is going inside her ass today and her pulse gallops like wild horses thundering over the highlands.

“You really got one in my house colors,” she muses out loud.

Relief flickers across Ben’s pale features. It had somehow escaped Rey’s notice how tense he’d been until the instant that he relaxes and the difference is marked. He cracks a smile that’s rueful and boyish all at once. “I couldn’t resist.”

“You didn’t buy that in Hogsmeade, I take it?”

“Perish the thought.” They exchange a mutual grimace at the very idea. “I went into Edinburgh. There was a wizarding establishment there with a… diverse selection.”

Rey stares at him, her lips slowly curving into a mischievous smirk. “Did you like it, I wonder, shopping around for a plug for me? For your student?”

“I’m going to stop you right there—it was exceedingly awkward.” Ben stares down at her nude body and then at the scarlet-and-gold object that he’s holding. “Although right now I’m very curious to see what you’ll look like wearing this.”

There’s an unspoken question in his tone. He’s giving her yet another chance to change her mind. The corner of Rey’s mouth twitches. “Why don’t you find out, then?”

And Ben’s eyes light up in that specific way that she’ll never get tired of.

“Facedown, please,” he softly commands, gesturing to the expanse of the couch beneath her. “Ass up.”

Rey steals one last glance at the plug as she gets into position. It glimmers in the afternoon light filtering into his office. It looks so small in his large hand.

Merlin help her, but she’s already damp between her legs.

As Ben tucks a pillow under her hips, she rests her forehead in the cradle of her bare arms folded over the upholstery, which she soon feels shifting to accommodate his weight when he kneels behind her. He runs his hands over her form with a precision that is almost clinical, zeroing in on all her sweet spots like he’s simply just priming her for what’s about to come.

She probably shouldn’t relish it to the extent that she does, but there’s a certain sense of letting go that she finds difficult to shy from. She’s not exactly blessed with a wealth of experience in these matters but she is aware that it’s a rare thing to trust someone this much, with so much of yourself.

So she arches into his purposeful touch, and she sighs as prettily as she can, and she is unable to see what he’s doing, she can only feel it as he kisses the back of her neck and strokes her sides and pinches her nipples between wand-callused fingers that soon ghost over her clit in light swirls.

Her thighs quiver, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I think you’re ready, aren’t you, Miss Niima?” Ben’s voice is quiet and deep, almost hypnotic, as he switches to caressing her ass. “You have to earn back those points for Gryffindor, after all.”

Rey’s eyes fly wide open, nearly popping out of her head.

So this is today’s game, is it?

She won’t lie—she is more than a little intrigued.

“Yes, professor,” she says in a tone that’s as meek as she can make it. Testing the waters. “I’ll do anything, sir.”

“What a dedicated little student,” Ben says, so absolutely deadpan and tinged with enough sarcasm that Rey knows—she just knows—that he’s thinking about her essays for his class and wishing that she would put a similar same amount of effort into writing them. She has to muffle a snicker into the couch, but then—

—then she feels the plug press against her anus, and suddenly nothing is funny anymore.

The toy is very smooth and firm. The moment it touches her, it seems to become coated in some kind of warm, wet film that’s oddly soothing. A magically self-lubricating plug… even now, like this, Rey is seized by the urge to take the thing apart. Deconstruct its spellwork.

She’s clearly been hanging out with Ben Solo way too much.

“We’re just going to ease this into you nice and slow, Miss Niima.” His voice is like gravel behind her, threaded through with the faintest hint of glee.

“You’re utterly enjoying this, you old perv,” she can’t resist accusing him with a breathless little laugh.

“Brat.” One of those great big paws of his lands sharply on her left buttock and her merriment fades into a soft groan. “This is for your own good, you know.”

“I know,” she hums, wiggling her ass at him in the hope that he’ll spank her again. And he does, and a fresh wave of arousal trickles down her thighs at the sting. “We have to stretch my ass so you can fuck it.”

“That’s exactly right. Smart girl.” Ben pushes the plug forward.

It’s weird, having something there that’s not his fingers, but Rey thinks that it might be weird in a good way. It definitely helps that his free hand alternates between holding her in place, spanking her, and reaching over to give her nipples the occasional pinch. She’s awash in the strange new feeling and all of the old familiar ones. Whenever she thinks that it’s getting to be too much of a tight fit, the plug instantly gets easier to take, more of that warm liquid coating it, and she thinks that the built-in magic probably produces lube as required.

Rey finds herself wondering if the inventor of this plug had gone to Hogwarts. Imagine running into Professor Mothma and having to explain that what she and her colleagues had taught you was being applied in this manner…

Ben slips the toy in even deeper, and the increase in pressure is as jarring as an electric current. Rey seizes up and cries out and he’s soothing her immediately, rubbing the small of her back.

“You’re doing so well, Miss Niima. We’ve got almost all of it in.” The calm way in which he speaks belies the tender affection with which he hunches over her to press a kiss to her neck. “Just a little more, sweet girl. I’ll give you fifty house points if you let me plug you up.”

Bloody hell, Rey thinks, her eyes nearly crossing from how very hot she finds that. She hadn’t been wrong to trust Ben with this—he’d known even before she did that this would be the scenario that would turn her on under these circumstances, this safe chance to act out getting back into the other Gryffindors’ good graces and spiting Hux.

She spreads her thighs a little wider. “I really need those points, Professor Solo.”

“You’ll get them,” Ben promises. “Just relax for me.”

And she does, as best as she can.

And he gently coaxes the toy in until it can go no further, the flared base sealing up her entrance.

Rey takes a shuddering breath.

She’s so—full.

It feels good. So deliciously illicit.

“There we go,” Ben says huskily. “You look so gorgeous with a plug in that perfect ass.”

The sheer admiration in his tone floods through her in waves of light. She’s itching to touch herself but, before her hand can wander between her legs, he says, “Want to earn another fifty points?”

Her toes curl. “Yes, sir.”

“Then get down on your knees on the floor.”

Ben utters the command with such quiet heat that Rey has to bite back a moan. She does as he bids, gasping out tattered little whimpers as every movement jostles the toy in her ass. She kneels between his legs as he sits back on the couch and, when she peers up at him, he looks absolutely depraved, a shock of dark hair falling across his pale forehead and his star-cut eyes gleaming down at her like she is his prey.

For all of his mercenary demeanor, though, there’s a slight tremble to his fingers as he unbuckles his belt and opens the fastenings of his trousers. She’s hit by another spasm of fresh arousal at the sight of his erection springing free—and also by a decidedly less sexy urge to giggle.

It's just that—well—his cock looks so angry. It’s flushed red and stiff as a board and already leaking a generous amount of precome. It’s giving off every indication of being ready to burst at any second.

“Yes, yes,” Ben grumbles, correctly deciphering the look on her face, “I was dying the whole time we were getting that plug in you. Laugh it up if you must.”

The giggle that Rey had been holding back rises to the surface. But Ben is no doormat, either—he takes that opportunity to reach out and cup the back of her head in one large palm, pushing her inexorably toward his lap, and her laughter is cut off by his cock slipping between her parted lips.

She doesn’t miss a beat. She sucks him off enthusiastically, his fingers buried in her hair and the plug in her ass splitting her open. His office fills with the sound of her gurgles and the wet, sloppy smacking of her lips.

“Very good, Miss Niima,” Ben says through gritted teeth. “That’s another fifty points for letting me fuck your mouth.” She closes her eyes and she moans around him, and he pushes her forward again and she gags. “I love feeling the back of your throat,” he mutters. “Love it even more when you’re all plugged up while you choke on me. Jesus, you know what—take fifty more points for being such a good little cocksucker.” He twitches against her tongue and she realizes that he’s very close and she sets upon him with a renewed determination, reveling in the taste of him.

It's not long before he stops her with a gentle nudge to her shoulder that she knows the meaning of by now. It means that he wants to come somewhere else. She pops her mouth off of him and she looks up expectantly. The gaze that he aims down at her is positively wolfish.

“I’ll give you another fifty points if you let me cover you in my come,” Ben says, taking himself in hand. “That would put you well over a hundred and eighty, won’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Rey whispers.

He smirks. “You’ll win the House Cup for Gryffindor all by yourself at this rate. But there’s no one who deserves it more, is there? You’re so pretty and obedient, and all your holes are so tight. So made for me.”

She dimples up at him. His breath hitches in his throat as his hand moves faster. With him framed in the afternoon sunlight like this, Rey doesn’t think that she’s ever seen anyone more beautiful.

“Can’t wait to fuck your ass, baby,” Ben rasps, staring into her eyes. “You have to wear the plug for a while, all right? You have to get used to it first. You’re so small. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you don’t.” She runs her hands up his thighs, stroking them through the fabric of his trousers. “I trust you. I know you’ll make it good for me. I don’t want it to be anyone but you.”

He seizes at her words, a low and broken sound falling from his plush lips. The first drops of his come splatter on her breasts and she squirms at the sensation of the thick, warm liquid trickling down to her nipples. He aims the next wave at the jut of her collarbones and the base of her throat. All the spots that he likes to kiss. And then he’s coming on her face, painting her cheeks and her chin and her lips in ropes of white. “Open your mouth,” he tells her urgently, and she does, and he finishes all over her tongue with a grunt, watching with rapt attention as his spend pools on her tongue, as she swallows it all. The evidence of his desire sliding down her throat.

✨✨✨

“You know,” she quips after he’s done cleaning her up and is helping her back into her clothes, “we’re going to be in so much trouble if the school’s magic recognizes those points.”

It won’t—the spellwork operates on intention and it has its own system of checks and balance—but Rey’s dear Professor Solo turns pale anyway.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he chides her as he buttons up her blouse.

She scrunches her nose. The corner of Ben’s mouth twitches and he leans in to give her a long, slow kiss.

Of course, this gets her all fired up because he’d told her while mopping up his come from her damn tits that he wasn’t even going to give her an orgasm today. She whines when he pulls away from her. “Sir—”

He tweaks her nose, smiling softly. “As I said, Miss Niima, you are free to do whatever you wish to yourself after you leave my office. But—” He reaches behind her to tap the base of the plug through her underwear, and her knees buckle—“I would really love it if the next time you come it’ll be with my cock in your cute little butt. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“I’ll try,” Rey huffs, sulking.

“Great.” Ben presses a laughably chaste kiss to the top of her head. “Fifty points to Gryffindor.”

“That puts us in the lead over Slytherin,” she says breezily. “I hope you’re ready to explain to the headmaster what exactly it was you were awarding me for—”

“Rey!”