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Ben Solo is a junior at Chandrila University, and he is not what most people would consider to be a party person, or even a people person… or, if you asked Rey Johnson, not a person at all but some pretentious monster who lives solely to argue her every word in their shared Film Studies class - Women in Film. But tonight is a Friday night on campus, and Ben’s ridiculous best friend, Poe, has dragged him along to his fraternity’s Halloween Haunt. It’s a surprise he managed to pull him out the door, and even more surprising that Poe managed to convince him to wear a costume. But alas, it’s Halloween. And even in his ripe old age of twenty-one, Halloween still feels like that one night a year where anything can happen.So Ben Solo finds himself hiding under his high school halloween costume, which somehow made its way into his duffle bag of clothes this semester. The iconic white mask and black hood. Ghost Face from his favourite movie, Scream. The gown had been long since lost, and all the better for it. It never hung right on Ben, anyway. He was too tall, and the black cape fell only to his knees, so he opted for his usual black jeans and a black hoodie, instead. Poe let him borrow a pair of gloves, which were for whatever reason an unbelievably soft cashmere material and Ben had thrown him a raised brow. The university’s football star and president of their most exclusive fraternity secretly wore expensive cashmere gloves? Though, if he had to admit it, they were ridiculously soft and he didn’t find himself complaining. And now he’s got a solo cup of cheap beer in hand, making himself one with the cigarette stained walls of this dirty basement, and finding himself thinking of his film studies class, of all things. In observation of the holiday, their mid-semester paper had been about women in the horror industry, and Ben wonders for the millionth time what his arch nemesis had chosen as her focus. Himself, Ben had obviously chosen to write about Sidney Prescott in Scream. Actually, he sort of expanded out to ‘final girls’ in quite a few slasher films of the golden age. But what would Rey Johnson choose to write about? Knowing her, it was probably something mundane and black and white. Perhaps she’d chosen Vertigo… maybe something as boring and predictable as Frankenstein. Yes, if he had to chance his bet, he’d wager she chose to analyse a film without a woman’s presence at all, to argue the inherent masculine agenda of all films.As much as he despises her, he really couldn’t wait to see what she’d chosen to write about. Reluctantly, he agreed with a lot of what she had to say about patriarchal agenda in mainstream media; but she didn’t seem to think he, a man, was capable of agreeing with her. So he made it his sole mission in life to dis-agree with her at every opportunity.It was a little petty, sure; but Ben Solo had never met someone who brought out this toxic side of him before. She challenged him in all the ways he never knew he needed to be. He quite liked that. What he did not like was her attitude, or the way she glared at him when he spoke. She hated him. And since he didn’t know what to do with that, he threw it right back at her. Speak of the devil, Ben is just about to leave his place along the back wall of the party in search of another beer, when he sees a blood-drenched angel float into the kitchen. A short white dress, or maybe pale pink, is soaked in a realistic looking blood. Clotting, sticking the thin fabric of the skirt to her thighs, accentuating the shape of the woman wearing it. Ben’s feet follow before his head can catch up.
Fuck, it’s been a while. His cock is ready to follow the first girl with long tan legs he can find.
When he reaches the kitchen, he finds himself face-to-face with the bloody babe sporting long legs and he chokes on his tongue when he recognizes her eyes. It’s Rey fucking Johnson, because of course it is. And for a split second, he rolls his eyes and sighs like he’s going to turn away. But in the span of a heartbeat something miraculous happens. The shrewdness Ben has always found in her eyes fades away, replaced almost instantly by something sweet and cloying and seductive. A smirk pulls her lips to the side, lips that he’s always thought move way too fast and say way too much, and now the soft sensual pull makes him think of them very differently.“Well, well. Look who it is.” She coos, a suggestive wag of her eyebrows accompany the cadence of her words.It takes Ben a moment to catch up. She loathes him. Why is she practically purring, positioning her pretty cleavage closer to his chest, as if hoping he’d look. He did. But why on earth would she want him to? “And how are you tonight?” She bats her eyelashes. Damn, it’s like she’s flirting. Is this a sick joke? A Halloween prank? She can’t stand him, despises him; to Rey Johnson, Ben Solo isn’t even a person– Oh … but he isn’t Ben Solo at all, is he? He’s completely forgotten he’s wearing a mask.In light of this realisation, Ben is struck dumb. He stares at her, taking in the ways she is different like this. There’s no furrow of her brow, no condescension hiding in the quirk of her lips, or judgement lurking in her evergreen eyes. Since when were they so green? Since when has her button nose been adorned with a constellation of freckles? Ben is following a trail of fake blood that has dripped between her breasts when she clears her throat.His attention snaps up to her face, finding amusement and interest where he usually finds disgust and defence. “Oh, I get it. Doing that whole serial killer thing? Not gonna talk to me?” She feigns a pout, her full lower lip jutting out beautifully. Plump and shiny with her spit. Ben’s blood starts pumping south.Should he talk? Would she recognize his voice?Ben is just devious enough to enjoy her attention without disclosing his identity, but he will not stoop so low as to alter his voice. His deceit ends with withholding information, it will not span so far as to being entirely duplicitous. It’s Halloween, afterall, and anything can happen. Even someone like Ben can be someone entirely different for a single night.He nods, slowly. Hauntingly. Tilting his head to the side in a mockery of sincerity. The way he’s been watching actors behind this same mask do for years. And more blood rushes south when he sees Rey’s eyes light up and scan his body. She seems to take in his height, the broadness of his shoulders, traits he knew he possessed but did not realise would have such an effect on her, of all people.“Oh, hold on. I’ve seen this movie a hundred times… what is it– ‘You wanna play psycho-killer?’” Something Ben didn’t know existed flares inside him.He nods again, reaching forward to smooth a stray lock of hair away from her face.She smirks, and it’s so wicked that it sends a chill skipping down Ben’s spine.“‘Can I be the helpless victim?’” He nods, more enthusiastically now, his motions hurried and eager.She giggles and, Jesus Fuck , Ben wants to hear Rey laugh all the time. He’s quickly falling closer to feeling something besides blind hatred for this slip of a girl who frequently verbally bests him for an hour and fifteen minutes two times a week.“You know… I’ve always kinda had a thing for Scream.” She says, shyly reaching up to trail her little fingertips against the back of his hand, still poised next to her collarbone. Even through the glove, it sends gooseflesh prickling all over his arm.“Ghost Face.” Ben corrects, not able to help himself from getting one up on her. Just like he does in class. He didn’t even think before his voice came spilling out of him. He freezes, thinking she’ll recognize him.“Yeah. Whatever. Semantics.” She rolls her eyes, a half smile tugging at her lips. Semantics. Same thing he always says to her. It’s like his catch phrase. And yeah, he knows he’s been a bit of a broken record, but she brings out the worst of him. And here she is using his catchphrase in real life. Fucking hypocrite.Then, a second wave hits him after he stews over that phrase for another moment. Does she know it’s him? Is she quoting him back to himself? Is that a hint of some sort?“I just want you to bend me over the bathroom sink, hold that plastic knife up to my throat, and fuck me within an inch of my life.” She grabs his hand and pulls it to rest on her chest. He can feel her pulse race beneath his palm. Ben chokes on the stuffy air inside his mask, coughing in rather an unconvincing attempt to cover it up. She just smiles, calmly waiting for him to respond.He glances between her green eyes and his own hand resting at her breast, just an inch above the soft mound covered in stage blood and glitter. The question of consent swirls around his head for a moment, everything drilled into his brain by his mother and that mandatory consent seminar Freshman year… Who is Ben Solo to deny her?Just then, in an ironic twist so ludacris that Ben nearly loses his cool altogether, Poe comes floating their way. Nearly naked, a pouffe of white stuffing obscuring his dick and ass, a comically sized mini arrow and bow strapped to his bare chest - His frat-boy best friend comes floating their way dressed as Cupid of all things. Eyebrows wagging, he addresses Rey first. Planting a hand above her head, resting on the doorframe to the kitchen, Poe leans toward her. The jealousy Ben feels is immediate and white-hot. The fear his stupid best friend will out him is second. Even with that ridiculous blonde wig and campy pink blush forming perfect circles on his angular cheekbones, Ben knows Poe is the definition of suave.“Well, well. What have we here?” He whistles, earning little more than an eyebrow raise from Rey. “‘Carrie,’ right? Pig's blood looks good on you, m’lady.”She rolls her eyes, less amusement there than when she rolled her eyes at Ben. Well… when she rolled her eyes at Ben tonight. “Poe. Looking very… cherubic. Is Finn here, yet?” Rey’s familiar snark is lingering in their interaction. It baffles Ben for a moment until he realises that Rey knows Poe, and she doesn’t seem overly fond of him either.“He’s supposed to be here later. He’s dressing up as Psyche.” Poe shrugs, his hand falling from the door frame.“That’s a bit on the nose. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Rey reaches for Ben’s beer, taking a sip and batting her eyelashes at him over the rim.“No cats here, Reybie. Only drunken scholars.” Poe laughs, looking at Ben himself. “Hey, what’re you doin’ here with–”Ben’s heart jumps up into his throat and he claps a hand at the back of Poe’s neck, pulling him forward like he’s got a secret to share.In a voice that is maybe, admittedly, a little deeper than his own he says “Hey man, where’s the bathroom?” loud enough for Rey to hear.Perked, Rey’s eyes go wide and she quickly sits the nearly empty Solo cup on the kitchen counter, clasping his hand.Poe’s brows scrunches in a moment of confusion. “Down the hall. Last door on the right.” There’s a breath of incredulity in his tone, but Ben ignores it.“C’mon.” He whispers to Rey, leading her toward the hallway.“That’s my boy!” Poe calls, drawing more than a few eyes. Ben shakes his head, trying to hide Rey with his upper body. “Get it, son!”Their pair is sent down the hall to a fanfare of whoops and hollers from their fellow students in academia, it isn’t until Ben shuts the bathroom door behind them, and rests his back against it that the roar dies down.“You know Poe?” Rey laughs, bracing her hands on the vanity behind her and hauling herself up onto the surface. She’s making space for herself there, her ass perched next to the sink. Ben watches her legs cross, uncross, and cross again. Entranced by the way he’s never seemed to notice her lengthy tanness before. “Unfortunately. He’s my best friend.” He says, voice gruff and tone clipped. There’s a pregnant silence in the confines of the bathroom; Rey’s eyes are wide, searching the floor for answers that Ben doesn’t know the question of. Ben’s presence, as usual, takes up far too much space. Even as he presses his back flat against the door and attempts to make himself small. His bravado has been shaken by the close encounter with Poe. His identity nearly revealed and this whole fantasy nearly crumbled before it even began.“Yeah, he’s dating my best friend.” Rey shrugs, Ben watches her shift her weight again. He catches a glance at himself in the mirror behind her, all black cutting a formidable figure, that iconic mask stark and menacing beneath his plain black hood. The peripherals of ‘Ben’ fade away and someone new takes his place. “Wanna play a game?” He says, unfolding himself from the border of the room and stalking towards his prey. Rey reacts immediately to his shift in tone, her back straightens. Her tiny pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I still wanna play psycho-killer.” She says, breathy.“Do you, now?” His gloves hand reaches out, placing his palm flat against her sternum, right above her heart, to the exact place she’d led him to earlier. Familiar territory. He hears the little intake of breath through her upturned nose as he closes in. “Little girl wants to play?” Ben’s not sure if he’s altering his voice anymore, incensed with her strawberry perfume and the feel of her rapid heartbeat under his touch. His hand slides down, smearing stage blood on Poe’s expensive cashmere gloves, until he’s imprinting a bloody hand to the shape of her breast. Staining the fabric with his incriminating brand, he squeezes lightly, a handful of soft flesh for his perusal. He has to bite back a groan as he’s filled with lust, cock flooding with blood and straining against the tight fabric of his denims.She falls closer, her tiny frame coming to nest between the breadth of his arms. A little bird in a giant cage.“I wanna play, Scream.” She whispers, tilting her head back and stretching, resting her lips at the base of his throat, barely visible under the cowl of his mask.“Ghostface.” He corrects her, automatically. It’s too tempting to pass up. He’s got this swotty little girl under his hands, a puddle in his arms. All the jibes and taunts in class have led him here, impossibly horny and nearly infatuated with her smart mouth and clever hands.“Semantics.” She breathes, pulling him down by the neck until she can reach for the back of his mask. He’s not registering for a moment, lost again in the feel of her breast in his hand, his left hand seeking out the small of her back so he can pull her closer. He doesn’t notice what she’s doing until he feels the mask slip from his chin, just a bit.Springing into action, a jungle cat with a field mouse in his paws, he grabs both her wrists. Blessedly, his mask falls back into place. A flash of fear dances across her hazel eyes before recognition takes its place. Ben sighs. She didn’t see anything. Another close call.“You talk an awful lot about screaming. Want me to make you?” He wedges his hips between her knees, sliding and bending so slightly to make his pelvis line up with hers. A slow, purposeful roll of his hips is all it takes to pull a surprised squeak from her throat. “Make you scream?” He whispers, moving both her wrists into his one hand and behind her back as he leans his chest against hers, effectively trapping her between the mirror and himself.She nods, practically panting. “‘Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel.’”Behind his mask, Ben smiles. The kind of smile he’d never be caught dead with on his face. Wide and toothy and probably ridiculous. He’s safe here, though. Safe behind this mask and wrapped around this waif of a girl who occupies his every thought. This girl who gives him hell in class, but knows his favourite movie well enough to quote it. This girl who sneers at him, but purrs underneath him. With his free hand, he makes a show of dragging his gloved fingers up the outside of her shin, rounding her kneecap, smearing sticky stage blood up the inside of her supple thighs. She shudders, her hips rolls forward to seek him out. He teases her, stopping his ascent before he reaches the hollow between her thighs and pretends to examine his hand, tilting his head in mock thought.“You got my gloves all bloody.” He muses, his other hand mapping its way from her toned abdomen up her ribcage before grabbing another handful of her perky chest and sliding up to gently grip her jaw. He taps her lower lip and wiggles the fingers of his bloody gloved hand in front of her nose. The command is clear, but he says it anyway.“Open up.”Rey’s eyes flash. She licks her lips before slowly, so slowly, opening her mouth for him.It reminds him of the look she gives him as she waits for him to stop speaking in class, the few times she actually waits and doesn’t interrupt him. Eager. Ben places his index and middle finger on her lower lip, painting it with dark blood and losing his focus as it stains and smears and her full flesh rolls beneath his touch. He tilts his head again, as if to get a better look, and places just the tip of his fingers between her teeth. Careful that just the portion where the gloves overlap his actual fingers rest between the pearly whites.“Bite. Bite like you’re running for your life.” He whispers.Rey’s brow twitches and she feels the tips of the gloves with her tongue, likely to be sure she won’t hurt him, and fuck what a thing it is to feel like she’s worried she’ll bring him harm. The irony. Ben nearly laughs, but bites his lip. Rey bites down, catching the tip of the glove, and savagely jerks her head, pulling the cashmere with her and baring Ben’s hand to the slight chill of the open air. Like a little dog with a chew toy, she makes a show of swinging it between her teeth before she drops it. It falls with a deaf thud to the floor. “Good girl.” He whispers, not even sure she heard him before he’s on the move. With his free hand, he’s welcome to the glorious warmth of his bare skin against hers. He skims her collar bone, the silk stretched tight across her bosom, he tucks his fingertips beneath the neckline and pulls, revealing her tits. Marvellously, she’s come without a bra. Her rosy pink nipples are a lovely contrast to the bright red stage blood, pulling tight from the chill and the stimulation until they’re stiff little peaks. Perfect for sucking.“Wanna bite them, pretty little tits.” Ben mumbles, almost gambling away this whole thing to rip his mask off and nibble at her breast. He can’t risk it.“Then do it.” She gasps, wiggling against him. No doubt trying to free her hands.He chuckles darkly, pinching a nipple between his bare fingers and watching her mouth pop open in a little startled shape that relaxes into something more seduced. He plucks her like a harp string before trailing lower down. Revelling in the feel of her skin. Mapping that same streak he’d left with his glove, he returns to the softness of her inner thigh.Sticky, soft, and as he plunders further, slick. There’s the silkiness of her thong, wedged tight between the lips of her cunt, he wraps the fabric between his fingers for a moment and pulls, wedging it tighter between the lips of her sex. His thumb stretches down to feel for her clit, stiff and wrapped in sticky satin, wedged tight in the thong he holds between his fingers. “Mm-ugh.” She moans and groans. Ben looks up to find a familiar furrow in her brow, scrunched up as she looks back at him, a completely different look than the one she gives him in class. “You’re so wet for this.” Ben says, incredulous and mystified. He really hadn’t pegged Rey for the kind of girl to get finger-fucked by random maked men in bathrooms. The unbidden thought that perhaps this is even regular for her makes a green surge of jealousy rise up in him. Rey doesn’t bother responding, little hands gripping the sides of his hoodie, keeping herself anchored as he toys mindlessly with her clit.Possessed by his newfound need to possess her, he tucks her thong out of his way and quickly sinks two fingers into her heat. Rey clenches immediately, accompanied by a cry that borders on wounded. He almost stops to ask her if she’s okay, but in the next heartbeat she’s rolling her hips to meet his hand. Lithe little body moving sensuously as she fucks herself on his hand, his thumb still perched at her clit, making slow, wide circles.“Is that good?” He can’t help himself, dying for a word of her praise. He tries to remind himself he’s still in control, that she’s under his mercy, but as she picks up her pace he feels more an accessory to her pleasure rather than the source. “Yeah-huh. S’good. Bu- B- s’good.” She nods, swallowing thick and biting back another moan.
But?
“Need more?” He curls his fingers against her front wall, stroking that little patch of velvet and feeling her knees wobble and thighs shake.“Fuck! Need– more, yes. More. Bigger .” She pants, eyes rolling back into her head as he rubs that spot like a lucky penny.“Bigger? Can you even handle another finger?” He chuckles, feeling his tongue swell up in his throat. Rey huffs a quiet, breathless laugh. “Want your cock.” She licks her lips.The pace of Ben’s probing fingers slows. Somehow he didn’t let himself think he’d get this far, not to mention this lucky. A little finger-blasting in a filthy frat house bathroom? Yeah, that seemed morally grey given the fact she has no idea it’s him. But that’s not entirely unforgivable. Sticking his cock inside her? Different story entirely. Right?Dumbly, he stands there knuckle deep in her cunt, feeling her desperately clutch at him, begging for his attention. “How.” He asks, voice hollow and tumbling out of his mouth without his permission. He clears his throat, desperately wishing he had a cup of lukewarm beer. Or better yet, that he could rip this stupid mask off and drink straight from her source. She probably tastes like strawberries and honey. “How do you want me?” She smirks, wickedly. “I seem to remember asking you to bend me over the sink…” She glances behind her, at the wide vanity where she’s perched.“Doggy? You like that?” He asks, stunned. Rey. Prim, prudish little Rey. The same Rey who shouts at him about women’s rights. The same Rey who wears her hair in these three buns that he swears she does in attestment of ‘not dressing for men’. That Rey wants to be fucked doggy style by a stranger in a mask.“Yeah.” She says. He half-expects her to roll her eyes and give him a speech about how women can enjoy debasement if there’s respect, if it’s a part of fantasy, or some other empowered bullshit. Which isn’t bullshit, but it’s go-to comeback when she makes a good point and he has no way of arguing with her. He finds none of that here, though. Her eyes are wide and earnest, if a little eager. “I like that.” She assures him. Oh, she does. She’s so tight. Wet. Wetter . She loves the idea of getting railed from behind in this gross bathroom by this masked pervert. Ben licks his lips. Who is he to deny her?He gently removes his fingers from her heat, watching her brow furrow adorably at the loss. He glances at the slick between the webbings of his fingers; wants to smell it. Taste it. But he can’t. Rey slides from her perch on the vanity and falls gently to her feet, lithe like a cat. “Turn around.” He rumbles, feeling more drunk than he has in a long time with a pitiful amount of alcohol in his system. It isn’t the cheap beer. It’s Rey. She’s intoxicating.She bites her lip, eyeing him up and down. “Wanna do something first.”Taking his hips in her little hands, she twirls in the tight space. Ben and Rey switch positions, and Ben lets her. He leans against the counter, stretching his legs out on either side of her legs, and she stands between his thighs. Clever, quick little fingertips and palms make themselves familiar with the worn black fabric of his hoodie, slides deftly beneath the surface to caress the smooth skin of his abdomen. Ben groans, which he hopes is muffled at least a little bit by his mask. His abs tense beneath her, tight and rippling, a show of strength for her benefit. His cock flexes beneath his denims. Begging Ben to let it out. “Being a serial killer must be hard work…” She muses.Her words don’t make any sense to Ben at first, having travelled from her lips to his brain through an ear canal bogged down with soaked cotton and lust. “Huh?” He murmurs, dumbly.She lightly scrapes her nails down the muscles in his lower abdomen, nearing the little trail of fine black hair beneath his navel that connects to–“You’re ripped. Do you work out? Or is it, you know, all the murder?” She’s toying with him. Testing him. He recognizes it instantly. This feels more like the Rey he knows. More familiar, like the established acquaintanceship they have. For once, he actually feels like he’s at her mercy and he likes it here.He laughs, a hearty laugh, and he’s pleased to see the corner of her mouth lift up in response.“I’ve never killed anyone.” He says, watching her face fall. Fuck. Should he have kept playing the game? Did he fuck this up?Biting her lip, Rey tucks a hand into the waistband of his denims, popping the button and dragging down the zipper with one hand in record time. Before he can keep up, she’s got his boxers below his hips and his jeans around his thighs, the soft iron length of him in her little grip. A pained, glorious groan escapes him, and he knows there’s no way she didn’t hear it. “Yeah, not sure I believe that, Mr. Ghostface.” She says, carefully lowering herself to her knees between his legs.
Holy shit.
“You’ve definitely killed a few girls with this massive thing.” Her eyes rest greedily on his length, lips parted in shock or awe, or maybe both if he's lucky. She wouldn’t be the first girl to turn away from him, now.
‘How about a blow job?’
‘There’s no way you’re coming close to me with that… thing!’
Poe had once caught a glimpse in the locker room. He called it the Loch Ness Monster.“Too much?” Ben asks, supporting his weight on his palms behind him. He tries not to watch her size him up. It’s typically more depressing when they decide they can’t fuck him. Not when he’s got the Loch Ness monster between his legs.“Worried I can’t take it?” She says, cheekily. Batting her lashes up at him.
Holy shit.
“I know you can.” Ben growls. What does he have to lose?Rey smiles, looking like she’s just received the most praise she’s ever been given in her life. She licks her lips, lowering her head closer to the throbbing cock between her tiny palms. He jerks violently when she kisses the tip, a grunt torn from his throat. “Shit. Sorry.”“Don’t be.” She grins, kitten licking the tip so gently it feels like a phantom pleasure against his sensitive head. “Just don’t do that down my throat, okay?” She winks.Before Ben can laugh or blink, she’s taking him in her mouth. Wet. Hot. Soft like the velvet of her cunt. And then she hollows her cheeks and Ben sees actual fucking stars. Like a Looney Tune character, he’s just been whacked over the head with two tons of lust. He could almost come just from this. With the head of his cock between Rey Johnson’s plump, perfect lips.Eagerly, she sucks, her head begins to bob on him. Taking him slowly at first, not batting an eyelash when needy whimpers erupt from behind his menacing mask. Not flinching when his hand makes a home at the back of her head. He doesn’t hold her there, just guides her movements slightly. Doesn’t want her to tire too fast. But fuck, she doesn’t.She takes her time, licks him like an ice pop, down one side and up the other, tasting the precome that weeps from his tip. She rolls his balls in one palm and grasps his shaft in the other. She pumps in rhythm with herself, gently massaging his balls. Ben feels his orgasm sneaking up, begging to let himself go.“Re– oh, god. You gotta stop, please.” He whimpers, his head lolled back against his shoulders.Going deep, Ben can feel his cock tap the back of her throat for a moment before her throat tightens and she reels back, gasping a bit as her lips release him with a pop. “Shit, you okay?” He gently sweeps stray hairs away from her face, unsticking it from her smeared lip gloss. She takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” The smile she wears is megawatt, it’s brilliant; it’s blinding . She’s fucking beautiful.“Why’d you stop me?” She pouts, like a child being denied a lolly.He laughs, another real laugh, genuine and a bit unhinged.“Fuck. You were gonna make me come.” She giggles. The two of them rest their heads against each other for a few moments, laughing together. It feels natural. Peaceful. Right.Ben’s cock twitches of its own volition and taps the bottom of Rey’s chin. Her eyes flick up to his, dark and mischievous.“I think Killer wants some attention.”“Killer?”She grins, gesturing at Ben’s cock bobbing between them. “Yeah. Killer.”“Fucking Christ.” Ben tumbles into laughter again, reaching for Rey’s hands and lifting her from her knees. They stand together.She’s so much smaller than him. He turns them around again, Rey’s back to the sink.Ben watches in the mirror as he taps her backside to turn around. She faces the mirror as well, both hands resting on the vanity top. She watches him in the mirror. It’s almost like she can see right through the mask and into his eyes. He leans toward her, resting the chin of his mask against her shoulder. His hands come around to sweep her loose hair to the other side of her neck, then they fall down to her chest.He gently cups each breast, feeling the weight of them in his hands. He watches her eyes flutter in the mirror, her head lolls back to rest against his chest.“Mmm.” “Still wanna play?” He whispers in her ear.“Yes, Ghostface.” She pleads, wiggling her ass against his hips.He chuckles, feeling his cock prod at the skirt of her dress.“It might hurt.” He warns gently, unable to stop himself. He doesn’t want to hurt her, ever.“I want it to.” She whispers, darkly.His hands drop to her hips, bunching the skirt of her dress up around her waist and encouraging her to bend over the sink. Her ass is bared to him, the little strip of a baby pink thong sits askew on her right asscheek. He pulls them down her legs, watching the shiny trail of wetness they leave on her thighs.He bunches up the thong and sticks it in his hoodie pocket.She smirks. “Trophy?” She tilts her head towards his newest acquisition, taking temporary residence in his pocket.Blushing pink, not that she can see it, he smiles.“Yeah.”“Better than a blood slide, I guess.” She shrugs, wiggling her bare bottom.He bites his lip.“You like Dexter, too?” “Of course.”
God, she’s–
“You’re fucking perfect.” He whispers, resting his head dramatically on her back, forehead between her shoulder blades.She giggles.“A fucking dream.” He murmurs, longing to kiss her skin.“I’m right here; not a dream.” She says, gently. A reminder.She is here. And waiting.“Fuck.” He stands up straight.“What? What is it?” She asks, her eyes wide.“I don’t– fuck, I don’t have a condom.” He pants, wanting to fucking smack himself. He’d stopped coming prepared in freshman year. When it was evident that no one wanted anything to do with the ‘killer’ in his pants.“Oh, that’s–” She starts.“Fuck. I’m sorry. I can– I don’t do– this . A lot. Not– I don’t do this a lot. I can– I can go ask Poe if he– but it might not fit, but it’s better than– or, oh– or we could go back to mine– not that you’d have to stay, or–”“Hey.” She interrupts his manic ranting.His attention snaps to her.“Are you clean?” She asks. Swallowing, he nods slowly.“Okay, good. Me too. And I have an IUD. So…”“So…” Ben repeats, completely lost.“So… we’re good. You can..” She wiggles her ass against him again and while Ben’s brain is still catching up, his cock jumps onto the idea quickly.“Oh. Oh! Fuck, you’re saying– I can–”“Come inside. Yeah. I… I want you to.” She’s looking right at him again, meeting his eyes even though she couldn’t possibly.“Fuck.” Ben groans, grabbing the base of his cock and gripping hard.“You okay?”“Can’t say that… or this is gonna be over a lot sooner than I want it to be.”Rey giggles, a seductress, a minx. Ben takes himself in hand, gripping right at the base and squeezing firmly to calm his load. He takes a deep breath, guiding the tip to dip just barely into the spongy wetness of her folds. Slick, tight, slippery. Like a perfect little home. For him. He’s about to fuck her raw, this little slip of a girl who has gone from bane of his existence to object of all his desires in the span of a single night.Yes, he watched Bridgerton. Ben Solo is a fucking feminist. He just loves egging her on.Resolute, he prepares himself with a final squeeze as he notches the tip inside and begins the perilously slow descent inside of her. So tight, she grips him like a vice, and it takes all his willpower to pace himself. To still when she seizes up, even as she sucks him in for all he’s worth; and to forge forward in that moment she relaxes. He preens at her mewling, her fingertips floundering behind her, towards the place where they slowly become joined, to fumble at the hem of his hoodie and hold on for dear life.She holds onto either side of him; arms taut behind her, she holds onto bits of his clothing like reins as he begins to ride her.“Fuu- fuck!” Breathy little grunts are forced out of her, in time with his thrusts. She feels marvellous, magnificent. Ben rest his hands on her hips, feeling the swell of her arse jiggle against the outsides of his palms as he fucks his way into her. Faster. Faster.“Faster.” She whispers.Who is Ben Solo to deny her? Faster he fucks into her, faster he falls. Falls toward release, falls for her. The practical is quickly reducing to poetic, his filthy thoughts more fawning as he fucks Rey to her breaking point.“Fuck,” She squeezes him, the fascinating, phenomenal little thing, tighter and rapidly - the flutter of release sweeping him deeper like being pulled under a current. Her orgasm triggering his own. “ Fuck. Are you gonna come?” He rasps.“Uh- huh .” Is all she has the energy to utter before her cunt wraps tight, a flood of slick to quench him and the delightful melody of her screams. She could give Jamie Lee a run for her money, that’s for sure.“Now that’s a scream.” He manages weakly before holding himself flush to her and losing himself deep within. He’s not exactly quiet either, as he grunts and growls his way through the most intense orgasm of his relatively young life. He spills himself into her, and with what feels like a litre of come, he spills his frustrations and the feeling he’d previously held for her. The moment he comes to, no pun intended, the grandeur of the moment is tainted with his guilt.She has no idea it's him. Rey hasn’t had the epiphany that he has tonight. She’s not falling for Ben Solo, as he is falling for her. Rey Johnson fucked some stranger at a party, living her university life to the fullest and most reckless degree and Ben Solo, the faceless nameless Ghostface, is hearing wedding bells. Suddenly he feels stupid, feels salacious and sinister, realises the mistake he’s made in his seduction of her. That freshman year consent seminar is haunting him now.“That was…” She starts.Ben swallows, his throat suddenly thick and tongue suddenly dry.“ Yeah. That was…” He trails off.“Really good.” She giggles, turning.He slips from her, soft and spent, and Ben tucks himself into his pants as he averts his eyes from the way Rey tends to herself. He doesn’t feel he has any right to gaze at her now. He doubts he’ll find the courage to face her again. Knows he no longer has the gumption to raise her hackles in class anymore. He swallows again, trying to swallow the guilt and finding it simply won’t go down.Rey, despite being more than a spoonful of sugar, can’t absolve him of the guilt he feels now. Can't make this medicine go down any easier.“What are you doing tonight?” She asks, looping a finger into his belt loop, pulling him closer to her.He clears his throat. The taste of his own medicine is bitter on his tongue. “Gotta.. Gotta go back to my dorm. Finish writing a paper.” “Oh.” She sounds surprised, maybe a little disappointed. He chances a look at her, only to confirm that yes she looks disappointed and Ben wants to kick himself because now he’s managed to fuck this up for both of them. “When’s your paper due?” She asks, looking more than a little deflated.Does he slip away, silent? Does he unveil himself, a villain to reveal his deceit? How does he make amends for her sake, if not his own? All he wants is to find a way to reveal the truth and keep her forever. He wants to take off this stuffy mask and somehow convince her to give him a shot. To give Ben Solo a shot.“Uh,” He flounders, trying to remember what she’s asked of him. “Monday. Paper due Monday.”Rey nods, looking smaller than she did before. Lipgloss a little smeared, hair a little rumpled. Still an angel covered in blood, now with come dripping down her thighs. His come. “Yeah. Well.. okay. Yeah. Good luck on your paper.” She says, sadly. Ben freezes as she makes her way around him, headed for the door he’s blocking accidentally. Realising too late, moving too slow, she brushes past his flank.What does he do? What does he say?“Thanks.” He mutters, weakly. Ashamed when she looks back at him, shocked and maybe a little disbelieving. “Welcome.” She bites out, unlocking the door and opening it to leave. Their once quiet, secluded little haven is now invaded by music and the sound of party-chatter. She begins to leave, halfway out the door. His pulse spikes, feeling as if he’ll never see her again even knowing he’ll see her in class on Monday. But he won’t ever see her like this again.“Your paper.” She blurts, a furrowed brow and frown as she turns back for just a moment. “Are you writing about Scream?” Confused, but more than happy to keep talking to her while he still can, he nods. Pleased and not a bit surprised, she nods. Looking him up and down, as if for one last time.“Me too. Did you know that women in the horror genre receive fifty-three percent of the screen time? More than any other genre, by far.” She says, simply. Like she’s reciting information for class. Dumbfounded, Ben stays silent. “Or, better yet, forty-three percent of horror films star a female protagonist, as opposed to only four percent with male leads?” The look on her face is not quite cold, but calculative. Ben nods, numb. Rey just nods, too. Studying him for a moment, before–“You can use that. In your paper. If you want. I had other talking points.” She shrugs and turns, slipping out of the door like a ghost.Ben stands in the silence of the bathroom for all of five seconds before the synapses in his brain reconnect and he lurches into action.“Rey!” He shouts after her. The flimsy plywood door nearly splinters off the handle as he throws it open and casts it aside. A drunken sorority girl dressed as Jessica Rabbit shrieks, undoubtedly making her way to the powder room to reapply her tacky red lipstick. He pushes past the playboy-esqe bunny as he begins the hunt for larger prey.The hallway is dotted with curious onlookers here and there, none offering him any help in locating his runaway princess as she flees. He trudges through the crowd, looking for blood and pink satin amongst the sweat-covered drunken adolescents packed to thrice the capacity of this house. Neon lights and a fog machine make the sight something straight out of a movie scene, obscuring Ben’s vision as he frantically searches for his prize.There, to the right, he just barely catches the back of a blood-soaked beauty escaping out a sliding glass door located on the backside of the house. Ben shoulders some bros hard enough to get him a decent shot at being linebacker and makes his way there, eyes narrowed in like a hunter. He ignored the shouts and complaints as he interrupts dancers and a precarious keg-stand in his wake. His attention unyielding on the door to the back patio. The one he knows, from earlier observation, is a dead end.The door squeals on its track as he sweeps an arm wide and the door slides to grant him access to the October air. The patio is nearly deserted, save for a dark man clad in a purple grecian gown and a set of fairy wings, and a slight girl with chestnut hair. She’s covered in blood, and looking right at him. The girl who almost got away.Seeing Ben approach, the man with Rey bristles, his back unfolds and he broadens himself. “Excuse me, who the–” he begins.“Finn!” Someone shouts from behind them.Poe, backlit from the party lights and looking more flushed than the last time Ben saw him. Ben frowns, looking between the two men.“Babe,” Poe smiles, coming to the side of the man Ben presumes is Finn. “come back inside. I think these two are fine, and I’d love for you to meet my friends.” The two men glance at Ben, who gapes behind his mask as the realisation dawns on him. “My other friends.” Poe amends, winking at Ben and leading his boyfriend back into the house, leaving Ben and Rey alone on the patio.Ben looks at her for a few moments, the silence is stifling. Rey looks nervous, looking anywhere but at him, scraping the toe of her ballet flat against the pavers at her feet.“Is this the part where you kill me?” She says meekly, chancing a fleeting glance at him.“You know who I am?” Ben asks, completely ignoring her attempt at a joke. She shrugs.“Rey.” Ben warns, stepping closer to her and watching closely, hoping she won’t flinch away.“You obviously know me.” She bites, narrowing her eyes. “And it’s not good enough to warrant another… whatever you want to call it. But clearly not enough to get you to stick around. Why does it matter who you are, if you only want to leave?” “You think I wanted to leave? You walked out on me !” He exclaims, hands out in front of him like they’re clean. One gloved hand, the other bare and still smelling of her.“You didn’t exactly stop me.” She mutters, looking sullen.“I was–” He scoffs. “I was thinking. Or trying to. I was hoping you’d come back to my dorm with me. I was thinking of how I’d convince you–”“But you said you had a paper.” She counters, quickly. Biting. Clever. Quick. Her eyes are narrowed and distrusting, and thank fuck, because Ben knows how to handle her like this. Not when her eyes are round and teary.“I finished my paper, Rey.” Ben growls. “I bet you have, too. Haven’t you?” He nearly laughs as she nods, looking mildly chastened.“Do you know who I am?” He asks again, desperate. Praying she won’t say ‘Snap Wexley,’ thinking he’s the limp dick blonde theatre-nerd from their class. She nods, chewing her full bottom lip. A lip Ben wants to nibble, to suck, to kiss.“Say it.” He barks.“Ben Solo.” She’s never said his name out loud before, not that he’s ever heard anyway, and Ben has to ignore the way his knees wobble as he lifts his hands to the mask covering his face. With an unpracticed flourish, his face is finally revealed. Ben, in all his big-eared, black haired awkwardness stands bared before this beautiful girl. She smiles. “Ben.”“Rey.” He says, fighting a goofy smile of his own. “When did you figure out it was me?” She quirks a brow. “You’re kidding, right?” He frowns. Was it obvious? The first time he spoke? Did she know that Poe was his friend before today, and he gave it away? Did she somehow see him on the way to the party? Removing his mask to syphon beer into his mouth while leaning against the outskirts of the blooming party? “Ben.” She scoffs, finding the courage to stalk towards him. “You’re literally dressed in the same thing you wear to class every day.”He looks down at himself, now. Well… yeah. Classic Ben Solo. “I don’t wear cashmere gloves and a Ghostface mask to class.”“They’re cashmere?” She lifts that same bloody brow.He nods. “They’re Poe’s.”“Well, that makes sense.” He hums a small laugh, reaching for her when she’s close enough. They fit together like puzzle pieces, he feels the chill on her arms and leans away from her only to pull his hoodie over his head and extend it to her. Grateful, she sticks her hands into the arms and covers herself. Ben likes the look of her in his clothes. Smelling like his deodorant and shampoo. His come dripping down her thighs. He quite likes Rey like this. He quite likes Rey. “And,” He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t wear the mask to class. So how did you know it was me?”She laughs. “You’ve written about Scream three times this semester. Call it an educated guess. And... Poe said you’d be here tonight. Wearing a Ghostface mask.” She bites her lip.Ben’s brows draw together. “Poe?”“Mhm. I told you, he’s dating my best friend.”
Oh, right… But–
“But how did you know Poe and I were friends? Why did he tell you I’d be here? How did he even know I'd have that mask?”Rey looks nervous for a moment, swallowing before she licks her lips.“Because I was telling Finn and Poe all about the annoying asshole in my Film Studies class who I was pretty sure I was secretly in love with.” Ben’s mouth pops open dumbly in a silent gasp. Rey rolls her eyes.“Don’t be so dramatic. Not love. But… You drive me crazy in class, but I read your discussion responses on Blackboard. I read your reports. You aren’t the hypermasculine asshole you pretend to be. You’re… really.. Smart. And sometimes you look at me like you want to–” She giggles, looking away and blushing. “Like you want to bend me over a bathroom sink and fuck me within an inch of my life. And I don’t know. I just… I wanted to tell you, but Poe. Poe heard me talking about you with Finn and said ‘Oh, yeah. That’s my best friend, Ben. He’s got the emotional intelligence of a third-grader. If he likes you, he’s mean to you. It’s why he’s so mean to me.’” Ben laughs, all dimples and joy, because 1. Fuck Poe. and 2. Poe’s the best friend he’s ever had. “But…” Rey frowns. “He told me you were pretty sure I hated you, and you’d never make the first move. I tried being nicer this week in class, but you didn’t seem to notice. So I had Poe stash that mask in your things, and I… I told him to get you to this party. Because… It's Halloween. Anything can happen on Halloween, right?”
This girl… is a fucking dream.
“Rey?” Ben asks, smiling ear to ear like a fucking fool.“Yeah?” She swallows nervously, chin still perched in his hand.“Can you shut up so I can kiss you now?”“Please.” She whispers. And who is Ben Solo to deny her?