Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rey dabs at the sweat clinging to her hairline with the back of her wrist. Her patrons appear temporarily satisfied so she slips the rag from the back of her black spandex shorts and gives the bar top a quick swipe. It has to be at least 100 degrees outside and the bar is seemingly sweating of its own accord. 

Only half of the thousand or so fans stand and cheer as the Coronet City Fleek Eels, the minor league team for the Corellia Hounds, are announced and take the field. The others are too preoccupied by their phones or their drinks or their conversations.

Rey swings her towel above her head with the other bartenders to welcome the home team. Truthfully, she doesn’t know much about baseball, but she doesn’t need to. She has her older regulars who tip well and it’s better than other bartending jobs where she’s constantly being hit on in the dark by guys with skin so shiny, their slimy faces practically glow in the hue of the overhead TVs. Here, she gets to be outside, with a live sport as background noise, and thanks to the lack of commercial breaks, she’s in and out in just a few hours, making it an easy couple hundred bucks every home game.

"Hi Rey,” Maz, one of her favorite regulars, says as she takes her usual corner spot at the bar. 

”Well well well, I see they’re letting just anyone in here tonight,” Rey jokes to the older couple. Maz and her husband, Dexter, are season ticket holders and attend every game but rarely, if ever, sit in their actual seats. They prefer to hang out around the outfield bar and watch from there.

Dexter rolls his eyes and points to his wife. “I tried to warn them about her but security let her through, what can I say?”

Maz smacks him playfully and Rey laughs, already pulling the rum for Maz’s drink and cueing up a Gamorrean Ale for Dexter.

After serving their drinks, she takes a quick lap around the bar, and doles out a couple of refills before leaning near the POS system and checking her phone. 

She’d been messaging back and forth with a guy on Tinder about potentially going out when she gets off tonight but she hadn’t heard from him since this morning. Just as well, she figures. Rey typically despises going out after a shift at the stadium. She’d much rather go home, shower, and curl up with her emotional support water bottle and a few episodes of The Office that she’d already seen a million times.

She tucks her phone away when a man sits down at one of the many empty barstools and she wanders in his direction.

”What can I get you?”

”Oh, I don’t drink,” the man replies.

”Would you like a water?” she asks.

”No,” he replies. “My seat was in the sun, so I thought I’d come sit here. You can actually see the field!”

Rey smiles. “Alright, well, let me know if you need anything.”

She grabs a receipt left under an empty glass and adds the tip to the bill before closing it out at the POS and checking the scoreboard. They’re already in the second inning… should be an easy night.

After the game, Rey cleans up in silence under the 46,000-watt lights. The security guard assigned to walk her out to her car waits at the end of the bar while she counts tips and caps liquor bottles.

”Another successful home game?” Mitaka asks her, leaning against the bar.

Rey nods and slips her bills into her back pocket. “Not too bad for a Thursday.”

”Well, I got a feeling tomorrow’s gonna be even better,” Mitaka says with a knowing tone. His smirk is so convincing, Rey can’t help but nod along and agree, though she's not entirely certain what she’s agreeing with.

Sure, Fridays are better than Thursdays… but in a $10 kind of way, not a wink wink, nudge nudge, catch my drift kind of way.

When she's finished, Rey emerges from behind the bar and follows Mitaka down the walkway along the third baseline. They chat about the game as they head down the steps to the employee parking lot (read: Mitaka talks about what happened and Rey agrees enthusiastically, throwing in the occasional aggravated groan over things that didn’t go the Fleek Eels’ way).

”Have a good night, Rey!” Mitaka says as she closes her car door. “See you tomorrow morning for your workout?”

“You know it,” she says back with a smile. 

”Good night, Rey. Get some rest! You’re gonna need it!” Mitaka pumps his fist into the air as he treks across the lot toward his own car.

”That was odd,” Rey says out loud, turning her key in the ignition. “Then again, Mitaka is kind of an odd dude.”

When she makes it home, Rey strips on her way into her bathroom and steps under the spray while it’s still cold, shocking her body for a few seconds before the warm water arrives.

After rinsing the field and sweat off her skin, Rey steps out, wraps a towel around herself and makes her way into the kitchen to make a snack. While her nachos are baking, she slips into her pajamas and enjoys what’s left of her night with the “Fire Drill” episode of The Office , happy to be home and only kind of ready to do it all again tomorrow.

With a grunt, Rey ups her treadmill speed by .5. Sweat drips down her face and the back of her neck. She’s got just two more minutes and she wants to finish strong, to hit her mileage goal for the day. She can do this. 

”Rey!” Mitaka yells, throwing open the door. “Rey, you gotta finish early today.”

Rey glances at the clock. It’s not even noon yet. 

”I’ve literally got… fifty seconds,” she says between breaths. 

“Well, make it the fastest fifty seconds of your life. You gotta be outta here ASAP.”

Rey groans as her timer dwindles. Her legs hardly feel attached to her body at this point and the sheen of sweat covering her arms has started to pool in the creases of her elbows. 

”We got a big boy coming to town,” Mitaka says as though that explains everything. 

“Ahhhhh!” Rey screams as she hits her mile goal with two seconds to spare. She pumps her fist into the air as she slows the treadmill to a stop with her opposite hand. “I did it!”

”And I’m very happy for you, Rey, but I need you out of here and in the employee showers before Ben Solo and his agent show up.”

”Who?”

Mitaka laughs. “Yeah, good one.” 

Rey looks at him with wide eyes and plants her hands on her sweaty hips, looking down at him from the tread as she attempts to catch her breath. One of the best perks of this job is that she gets to use the players’ gym so long as she’s out before they arrive and she uses the employee showers, rather than the team locker room. Typically, Mitaka likes her out of here before 1:00pm but it's only 11:45am.

“I mean it!” Mitaka says. “They’ll be here within the hour to tour the facility.”

”Tour the facility?” Rey asks, wiping the screen and handles down with a towel. “Who the hell does this guy think he is?”

Mitaka rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m not thrilled about it either. They’re doing a tour of the field, the offices, security, pressbox.”

”But why?” Rey asks.

“It’s not that I mind. I understand we need to keep him safe but the rest of it… Jesus, I didn’t know we needed an added gate at the dugout or two of the entrances blocked off all for one guy.” He shrugs. “Ah, oh well. It’s good for the team, right? Good for the stadium.”

He wanders out without another thought, so Rey makes her way out of the team gym and heads to the employee locker room. She's not thrilled her workout got cut short, but she's also not supposed to be using the team's workout equipment. The only reason she's allowed to is because she and Mitaka started around the same time. She watched him climb the ranks to head of security at the Fleek Eel's stadium over the past few seasons and they've become quite close. He lets her in early to work out so long as she picks up after herself and isn't there when the athletes arrive for their own workouts.

However, she can’t really complain considering she’s using the most state of the art and perfectly calibrated equipment for free. Mitaka's rules sure beat a monthly gym membership. 

After her shower, Rey scrunches some gel into her hair and lets it dry in loose waves. It’ll be up into a ponytail by the end of the night anyway. She applies some tinted sunscreen and a dab of blush before putting on her “uniform”: a Coronet City Fleek Eels tank top and short, black bicycle shorts.

When she gets behind the bar, Rey unscrews liquor bottles, fills up ice, sets out glasses, counts the till, and does all of her opening duties while bopping along to whatever Yacht Rock song is playing overhead. It must be a new one since she doesn’t recognize the overly-used first three chords.

”Oh, fuck off, Dameron!” Rey hears. She turns around and sees two men walking onto the field toward the pitcher’s mound. With how loud and crisp those three words were spoken, she would have assumed they were right behind her.

”Listen, you can say that to me all you want, but if you say it to one more ump, you’re gonna be out of a job,” the shorter of the two men says.

“Newsflash: I already am out of a fucking job. I’m here, aren’t I?” The man yelling has an impressive wingspan, she realizes as he flails his arms.

”You’re here to rehab, Ben,” the shorter man says. The other one, Ben, apparently, tips his head back in frustration. “So fix your shit and you’ll get called back up to the Majors next week.”

”Is that what they told you?”

”They… haven’t told me anything. But I’ll get it worked out, okay, Buddy? I promise. Just lay low, do your fucking job, and stay out of trouble. No throwing bats, no arguing with umpires, no slamming helmets, just be cool.”

Rey doesn’t recognize either of them. Not that she knows what all of the players look like. But there are several who regularly show up early to work out on the field and she would have most definitely remembered him.

From her outfield bar perch, she can tell he’s tall. He’s got long, dark hair, thick legs, huge arms. Hell, she can see his hands from here… and he’s not even wearing gloves.

”Who are you?” Rey whispers as she plants her elbow on the bar and drops her chin into her hand.

She watches Ben bend over to stretch while the other man checks his phone and she cocks her head to the side, watching his thighs test the integrity of his pants.

”Hey Rey!” she hears from behind her, causing her to scream.

The stretching man’s head snaps in her direction and he clearly catches her ogling him. Rey doesn’t have time to deal with that, however, because her coworker is looking at her with concern. 

”Kaydel,” Rey says, standing up straight and covering her heart with her hand. “Jesus, you scared me.”

”What were you doing?” Kaydel asks, blatantly looking down onto the field.

”No, don’t!” Rey exclaims too late.

”Ohhh!” Kaydel sneers when the man on the field waves, then uses that hand to shield his eyes from the sun and get a better look at them. “You’re shooting your shot with Ben Solo?”

”Who?” Rey asks. 

“Ben Solo,” Kaydel says as though Rey should know everything about him.

‘Believe me, Kaydel,’ Rey thinks. ‘I am trying.’

”He plays for the Hounds,” Kaydel goes on to say. Rey stares at her blankly. “You know… the Major League team that supports this Minor League team. Rey, you know you work at a baseball stadium, right?”

”Yes,” Rey snaps. “Yes, of course, I just… zoned out there for a second. So why’s he here?”

”He’s injured,” she says with a shrug. “Sometimes they send injured players down to the Minors to keep them warm but at a slower pace, you know? They call it ‘rehabbing.’”

”So he’s just here for tonight?” Rey asks.

”He’s here until they call him back up to the Hounds. Could be tomorrow, next week, next month… I guess whenever he recovers.”

When Rey turns back to the field, he’s gone. She shrugs. He didn’t look injured to her. 

Kaydel disappears shortly thereafter to fetch some bar napkins from storage. Rey shakes her head and concentrates on her prep work. If there's one thing she doesn't need, it's work drama of any kind.

“Sorry you had to overhear that,” a deep voice says from behind her as soon as she’s alone.

Rey turns around to find who she now knows to be Ben Solo, towering over her. He runs a hand though his thick, dark hair and her entire mouth fills with saliva.

“Oh, I wasn’t really paying attention,” she lies after swallowing. 

“Seemed to me like you were,” he says with a smirk, taking a seat on an empty barstool and reaching across the bar to snag a maraschino cherry stem.

“I hope your hands are clean,” Rey challenges, watching as his thick fingers consume the tiny fruit, mostly confused about what he’s doing up here instead of on the field or working out… or whatever it is players do before games.

Ben smirks at her in a way that simultaneously causes her stomach to flip and slightly infuriates her before dangling the cherry over his mouth and consuming it with his plush lips. He flicks the stem into the trash can over the bar. Rey’s annoyed it makes it in.

“My hands are always clean, Sweetheart. So listen,” he says, leaning over the bar and wow… arms. Just so much arms. “I wanted to come say hi and make sure you’re not going to like Tweet about it or go to the press or anything like that.”

Rey looks at him, clearly confused. The contrasting sharpness of his facial features catches her off guard—his high cheekbones and long nose are softened by plush lips and thick, dark hair that he’s constantly brushing out of his hazel eyes. This man is very attractive. And very large.

“I mean what you overheard on the field. I was just venting to my agent,” Ben goes on to say, leaning back in his seat and resting his forearm on the backrest. "You know... nothing serious."

Rey watches as his body takes up more than just his own personal space; she may have just met him and he may seem like kind of a dick, but Rey is exceptionally grateful to have a tall bar between them because she's starting to wonder what he'd be like in her personal space. And that’s not allowed.

She snorts. “No, to be honest, I don’t care enough to do that.”

He frowns, though she’s not sure why. Clearly, she gave him the answer he’d been seeking.

”What don’t you care about, exactly?” Ben asks.

“Baseball." Rey waves her arms toward the field below. "Any of that?”

”Surely you love baseball,” he says. “You work at a stadium.”

Rey shrugs. “It’s a good summer gig. To be honest, I’ve never even held a baseball, so there’s no way I could tell you the difference between a foul shot and a strike.”

Ben smirks and it’s devastatingly sexy, despite it being at her expense. “First of all, a ‘foul shot’ is in basketball. In baseball, there are ‘foul balls.’”

 “Sounds the same to me.”

He scoffs, clearly offended. “It’s not the same at all,” he says but doesn’t offer an explanation. 

“Shouldn’t you be… not here?” Rey asks, realizing that the longer this man is in her presence, the less likely her knees are able to keep her standing. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

Rey’s unsure why she’s more concerned with this multi-millionaire professional athlete’s whereabouts vs her own when there’s a strict no-fraternization rule with the players but… here she is, she supposes.

He smirks and grabs another maraschino cherry out of the open mason jar by the stem, dangles it over his mouth, and bites the fruit off with his teeth. 

The action is so innocently sexual, it causes her to squeeze her thighs together. Then, he flicks the stem straight into the trash can behind the bar and she groans internally. His hands are massive.

"Will you stop doing that?" she asks, flicking the lid to the mason jar shut.

“Don’t you worry about me, Sweetheart,” he says in a tone that simultaneously pisses her off and soaks her. “What are you doing after the game tonight?”

Rey arches an eyebrow. She should be offended. She should be annoyed. But then he runs his hand through his thick hair and despite having seen that exact move no fewer than 12 times, she melts faster than a frozen drink in July. 

“Going to bed,” she says and regrets her words immediately. 

Ben looks her up and down in a way that should send every feminist red flag inside of her flying… but hadn’t she just been ogling him, herself? At least he’s doing it in her vicinity, offering her some semblance of consent. She’d been practically drooling with her head in her hand like he’d offered a private show. 

Rey snaps from her thoughts when she hears her boss’s infamous gruff, wet cough. Ben notices her stand at attention and he sits up straight as well. Before he can ask what's wrong, Rey sees Plutt approaching in her peripherals. His head is down and his eyes are glued to his phone. He’s still far enough away for her to come up with a plan, but it'll be a long shot if she can pull it off. It'll be a miracle if Ben Solo agrees to go along with it.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “That’s my boss. You gotta get out of here. I’m not allowed to talk to the players.”

Ben snorts. “Why not?”

“Because… I don’t know… because. Seriously, can you hide?”

Ben looks around and they’re faced with a predicament: there’s nowhere for him to go. Even if there were, he’s so big, she’s not sure he’d even be fully covered. And since everyone in the world apparently knows who Ben Solo is except for her, Plutt will most definitely recognize him.

“Ben, please,” she begs softly, watching Plutt get closer. 

“Fuck, I’d love to hear you say my name like that again,” he says with a smirk as he slides off his barstool. She watches as he plants one hand on the bar and hoists himself sideways over the top, landing effortlessly on his feet. If she had more time, she would make a comment about how he doesn't seem injured. "I'm only doing this for you, you know." 

Oh, he’s infuriating! Still, Rey can’t ignore the flush she feels in her cheeks and chest over his blatant display of graceful athleticism.

“Niima! You ready for tonight? I need you on your A-game,” Plutt warns her without so much as a hello. “It’s a sold-out crowd. I tried to get you some extra help but looks like it’s just you and Kaydel tonight. At least you’ll make good money.”

Rey nods along with what he says. In the five seasons she's worked for the Fleek Eels, she has never seen a sold-out crowd. She can't even fathom what that must look like. She doesn't have time to dwell on that, however, because she can see Ben on the ground, picking at a liquor bottle's label with his thumbnail. She needs to shoo her boss away. Now.

“Got a new cocktail on the menu tonight. Make sure Kaydel knows,” Plutt says gruffly, taping the recipe to the back of the bar. “It’s called a Grand Slam… get it?”

Rey stares at him blankly. 

“Because Ben Solo leads the league in grand slams this year,” Plutt adds. 

“I have no idea what that means,” Rey admits as she looks it over: rum, curaçao, lemon juice, grenadine. “But the cocktail seems simple enough.”

Plutt waddles off after a few more minutes of procedure. Ben shifts, but she plants a hand on his shoulder to keep him still until she's certain Plutt's gone. Rey has to look down to confirm her fingers actually connected with Ben's shoulder and not a rock-hard bar fixture, but refocuses on Plutt until he disappears into the office.

“Okay, you can come out now,” she says. 

“You don’t know what a grand slam is?”

Rey puts her hands on her hips and sighs. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. Then he gives her a smirk that makes her want to slap it off. Or kiss it off. Or sit on it. “I’ll teach you everything there is to know about rounding those bases.”

Rey releases an amused laugh that she hopes was more blasé than it sounded. “Yeah… no thanks. It’s crazy that I’m even letting you talk to me considering I could lose my job.”

“It’s crazy that you work for a baseball team and don’t know what a grand slam is," Ben shoots back.

Rey rolls her eyes and then asks, “so, are you like a big deal or something?”

His Adam's Apple bobs as he releases an amused chuckle. “Or something,” he replies quietly, then offers his hand. "Name's Ben Solo."

Rey watches her own hand disappear as it's devoured in his massive paw and pretends like they don't both know she already knows his name. "Rey Niima."

Rey looks up at him and stares into his eyes as he releases her hand. She is not a short girl, but he towers over her with shoulders so wide, she feels like he could protect her from anything. His lips part slightly and his tongue pokes out as he wets them. It's a little unfair how naturally full they are, surrounded by the stubble of his five o'clock shadow. It's even more unfair how much her body wants those lips on her. She wonders what he's thinking as he studies the tops of her cheeks.

Their moment is broken when his phone vibrates loudly in his back pocket.

Ben looks at the screen and groans. “Alright, I gotta go. My needy-ass agent is looking for me. It was nice to meet you, Rey. And hey! If you change your mind and want me to teach you about grand slams, I’ll be here all weekend.”

He winks as he walks away and Rey’s not sure they’re still talking about baseball.

“Sorry, Maz. I’ve got your drink coming up right now,” Rey yells over the surrounding noise, pouring rum and blue milk into her ice-filled shaker and snapping the top in place. “I can’t believe how busy it actually is tonight.”

Rey’s favorite regulars look at her incredulously. 

“My girl,” Maz says, shaking her head. “It’s because of Ben Solo . Everyone is here to see him.”

”I've heard of him," she says coolly. "But seriously... all of this for one guy?” She recalls being told they’d be busy at least a thousand times, but she wasn’t expecting to have walked nearly two miles behind the bar before first pitch.

Maz’s husband snorts. “The best player in the Majors right now?” Dexter deadpans. “Yeah, he’s drawing some interest.”

“He’s an idiot!” a man on the opposite side of Maz yells. “Imagine being the highest-paid player in the league at the height of your career, on par to shatter so many records… but your mouth gets you demoted to the minors.”

”I thought he was injured?” Rey says, pouring Maz’s cocktail into a glass, topping it with a red straw, and sliding it across the bar.

Dexter scoffs. “Well, that’s what they want you to believe, ain’t it? Solo’s fine. He ain’t hurt. He’s just getting kicked out of more games than he’s finishing.”

Rey recalls what she’d overheard his agent saying about throwing bats, slamming helmets, and yelling at umpires after Ben told him to “fuck off.”

”They’re just trying to spook him,” Maz explains. “You know, knock him down a few pegs.”

”Why do they put up with that kind of attitude?” Rey asks but she has to admit, she’s a bit confused.

That doesn’t sound anything like the Ben Solo who was here at this very bar earlier, offering to teach her about baseball. Sure, he was a cocky asshole about it and definitely alluding to sex any chance he got. But she assumes that’s how all professional athletes are. She never once feared he was going to raise his voice, let alone throw something. In fact, she felt alarmingly safe in his presence.

Suddenly, Rey’s shaken from her thoughts as the entire stadium bursts into applause.

”First up to bat for your Coronet City Fleek Eels… number fifty, center fielder, BEN SOLO!”

Everyone in the stadium stands up… clapping, cheering, fist-pumping. The fans at the bar either turn or stand up on their barstools to see. Kids run to the railings and aisles. Then, Rey watches as thousands of phones appear; they’re already recording and he hasn’t even assumed his position at the plate. She can’t even hear his walk-up song over the chaos. She’s truly never seen anything like this. 

Ben stands at the plate, bends his knees, and holds his bat over his far shoulder. The cheering seemingly gets louder as the pitcher pulls his arm back, lifts his left leg off the mound, and uses every ounce of force in his body to throw the ball toward Ben.

Rey leans forward on the bar and watches as Ben puts his entire massive body into his swing.

The stadium goes silent for a split second; it’s so quiet, Rey can hear the ice she’d just poured shifting in its glass. 

Then, a crack booms and echoes through the park as Ben’s bat makes contact with the ball. The force of his swing turns him half around but he smirks as he drops his bat to the ground, flicking his wrist like he’d done with the cherry stems, and takes off running to first.

The crowd goes wild as the ball soars. The opposing team’s left fielder jumps for it but ultimately misses the just-out-of-reach ball as it disappears behind the wall. Ben pumps his fist as he rounds second and then third. Fans are screaming, hi-fiving, and already tweeting the videos they’d taken. Rey watches wide-eyed while Ben is congratulated by his team members, enduring smacks on his helmet and pats on the ass.

Dexter slams his empty glass on the bar, catching her attention, and nods his head toward the field. 

“That’s why they put up with him,” Dexter says simply. 

And Rey is not entirely sure she gets it. But she thinks she wants to.

Chapter Text

Rey hums along to “The Boys of Summer” by Don Henley as she gets ready for the day. Half of her hair is gathered in one hand as she attempts to smooth the bumps on top of her head when a message from her co-worker, Kaydel, comes through.

Assuming Kaydel is calling out tonight, Rey drops her ponytail and reaches for her phone. Rather, the message is a link to a TikTok video accompanied by text that reads: this is yo mans! you were so right for checking him out ;)

Rey presses play and feels exceptionally nervous as soon as Ben Solo fills her screen: like he’s somehow being notified that she’s watching a video of him at this very moment. That doesn’t stop her from sitting on the edge of her bed as he runs a gloved hand through his lush hair and then looks directly at the camera, however.

The video is silent until a deep voice says, “run.” 

Then, the beat drops as AWOLNATION’s song, “Run,” becomes the soundtrack to a series of clips featuring Ben Solo.

The first few are of him in the outfield, diving for the ball and coming up with it after sacrificing his entire body to the turf. Then come the clips of him at bat, followed by a couple of him rounding and sliding into bases. It’s all perfectly timed with the deep bass and the final few clips are various celebrations: running with his arms out like airplane wings, hi-fiving teammates, and the final clip is of him and a teammate doing a choreographed handshake in front of the dugout as the song fades out.

Rey swipes up continuously until her algorithm brings her back to him without having to actually search. She’s transfixed, watching sweat roll down his face and counting the veins in his forearms as he swings. There’s something so raw and animalistic about it all. Her mouth fills with saliva as she watches and regardless of how many times she swallows, she wants more.

…which is why, 20 minutes later, she remains in bed falling deeper down a Ben Solo TikTok rabbit hole.

After mustering up the courage to actually type out and search his name, she watches post-game interviews, fan cams, special appearances, stolen bases, and celebrations. One clip features him hitting a homerun so far, the ball soars over the stands and clears the park entirely. 

Just as she convinces herself to get off her phone and get ready for work, she stumbles upon a thirsty video featuring a slow-motion montage of sweat dripping down his face as Ben licks his lips, and his uniform stretching when his muscles flex. There’s even an entire TikTok video dedicated to Ben Solo’s celebratory dances where he moves his hips suggestively.

Rey has never hit the ‘bookmark’ button so fast.

The next video’s caption catches her eye: “Ben Solo EJECTED During Game Against the Dagobah Dragonsnakes.”

She sits up and watches as Ben swings but stops halfway and pulls his bat back over his shoulder before taking a step backwards. The umpire behind him makes a fist and punches to signal Ben had struck out. Upon seeing that, Ben chucks his bat to the ground, then throws his arms up in the air. The umpire uses both hands to motion for Ben to calm down but then Ben is ripping his helmet off and slamming it into the ground as well.

A couple of Ben’s teammates run onto the field to mediate, but they’re too late. The umpire has already screamed, “YOU’RE OUT OF LINE. GET OUT OF THE PARK!”

Dragonsnakes fans stand and cheer as Ben picks up his bat and helmet and heads toward the dugout. Before making his way off the field completely, Ben shoots a “fuck off” over his shoulder.

Rey runs to the comments:

HoundsFan18

Solo, you’re killing us, bro!!

-

User34574359834524

Dude’s an idiot

-

AyoPlanet

We’d be in the Galaxy Series no question if Solo can just calm the FUCK DOWN.

-

TokadonaTrader

Solo’s 100% right though! That wasn’t a swing and that ball was in the dirt. Bullshit call.

-

HoundsGirlie50

I wish Ben Solo would throw me around like that helmet 🔥🔥🔥

   →Reply to HoundsGirlie50: LothCat69

      I’ve seriously never been more jealous of a helmet in my life 🥵

Rey doesn’t fully understand what happened on the field, but she feels a sense of protectiveness after reading those sexualized comments. Like, who are these girls to be talking about him like that? Not that Rey is jealous. It just feels icky. …even if she agrees wholeheartedly with both statements.

She scrolls to another video titled, “Ben Solo Ejected After Attempting to Steal Third” and then another, “Ben Solo Breaks Bat In Half.”

After watching a few more, part of Rey wonders what the big deal is. It’s not like Ben actually endangered these umpires. He’d been voicing his frustration loudly and in their direction. It might be unnecessary, but in the world of professional sports, isn’t there a ton of smack talk and aggression anyway?

She understands that it’s actually about respect, but if those umpires can’t handle being told to “fuck off,” maybe they shouldn’t be in the pro sports world. 

One more video , she tells herself.

In this one, Ben’s in the outfield and springs into action when the batter swings and hits the ball high up the middle. He runs sideways, his eyes never leaving the ball as he follows its projected path. Then, he leaps into the air, arm raised, and his back slams into the wall as his gloved hand reaches and dips behind the wall. His wrist bends backwards and Rey briefly worries she’s stumbled upon an injury video.

Until Ben touches down, retrieving the ball from his glove like it was nothing. The crowd goes crazy, the announcers can’t believe it, and then Ben’s running along that same wall while his teammates run off the field. He points into the crowd at a little girl standing at the railing, wearing a Solo #50 jersey, and purposely tosses the ball so she can catch it. 

Her father thanks Ben profusely as the young girl holds the ball up and everyone cheers.

Rey will never admit how many times she watched that video on loop, but she watches it enough times to make herself late for work.

Well… late if she wants to be early to see Ben, which she has decided, she most definitely does .

From the landing along the 3rd baseline, Rey can see Ben on the field with a trainer, who is softly pitching ball after ball. Ben swings and swings and doesn’t miss one. He’s wearing unofficial merch- just a t-shirt and workout shorts and it makes her wonder how long he’s been here. Typically, the players don’t arrive for another couple of hours or so.

“Niima, is that you?!” Ben yells up as Rey makes her way to her bar. 

Rey offers him a casual wave but carries on acting a lot busier than she actually is. The trainer claps Ben on the shoulder and heads into the locker room as Ben jogs over to the wall and stares up at her.

“Did you come early to play with me?” His stupid smirk is back but his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than her rent. 

She genuinely loathes how cool he looks.

”I have to set up,” Rey says, leaning against the bar. It’s a lie. She’s not even allowed to clock in for another hour.

”Alright, well consider this part of baseball education,” he says, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand. “I’m sure your boss would approve considering you admitted to him that you don’t even know what a grand slam is yesterday. Come on, I’ll teach you how to swing!”

Rey scoffs. “A grand slam is when a batter hits a home run with players on first base, second base, and third base,” she tells him matter-of-factly. “One hit for four points.”

“They’re called ‘runs,’ not ‘points,’” Ben laughs. “But good to know your Google skills are up to par.”

“Yeah, they are actually,” she agrees. “Maybe I’ll just take it upon myself to google how to swing.”

Ben smiles in spite of her constant rejection. “Oh, come on, Niima! You know you want to…”

There’s something about him Rey can’t quite explain. Her instincts tell her to keep him at arm’s length, to play so hard to get, he gives up. She shouldn’t even be talking to him, let alone getting on the field and letting him teach her how to play.

But something else tells her Ben Solo does not give up easily and that he would be well worth it. 

Before yesterday, she had no idea who this man was, and now, he’s all she can think about.

“How am I supposed to hit a ball pitched by you ?” Rey asks after she’s found her way onto the field, and follows him across the short outfield grass.

Ben laughs. “I’m not going to actually pitch it to you, Niima. I’ll just be tossing the ball.”

“How hard can you throw it?” she asks out of curiosity. 

He shrugs. “Eighty. Eighty-five miles an hour. Somewhere around there.”

“Somewhere around where?!” 

He chuckles. “Pitchers are in the nineties. Some even up above a hundred.”

“One hundred miles per hour. That’s insane,” Rey says as they approach home plate. “I saw your homerun last night.”

“Oh you saw that, huh?” he asks with a smirk that lets her know he damn-well knows she saw it.

When they arrive at the plate, Ben tells her to wait while he dashes over to the dugout and fetches a bat. He grasps the thicker end of the barrel and tosses it straight up into the air. The bat flips one, two, three times before he catches the handle flawlessly. He gives her a sweet, boyish grin like he’s so desperate to impress her with his little tricks and if Rey had a TikTok video of that little stunt, she’d never be on time for anything ever again. 

Her gaze fixates on his gloved hand and how effortlessly he holds the bat. His fingers are so long, they nearly wrap around the bat’s handle twice over and exude such a natural ease; it’s as though he was born to hold it.

She can’t help but wonder what those hands are capable of off the field, how they’d feel enveloping her . 

“See something you like, Niima?” Ben asks smugly, twirling the bat casually at his side.

Rey finds herself temporarily hypnotized by the motion, her eyes following its path. It's only with a conscious effort that she’s able to tear her attention away, forcing her head to stillness as she meets Ben's knowing glance. 

“Oh…” she stammers. “Um… Do… Will I need gloves?”

He gives her a sly smile. “Nah. Besides, I think you and I both know my gloves would be a little too big for you, Sweetheart.”

Rey’s wrist sinks as soon as he offers her the bat and she’s immediately taken aback. The bat isn’t particularly heavy, however, Ben’s effortless handling made it appear as though it weighed no more than a toothpick. 

“Damn, this is kinda heavy,” she comments, lifting it. 

“Kinda heavy?” He scoffs. “Girl, I was watching you lift buckets of ice, pitchers of beer, blenders and everything else behind that bar last night.”

“Oh you saw that, huh?” Rey winks, throwing his own arrogance back at him. He tosses his head back and lets out a genuine ‘HA!’ as she adds, “I didn’t know the players could even see me from the field.”

“Only if they’re looking.” Ben smirks. “Now, could I tell if you’re wearing a bra or not? I doubt it.”

Rey glances down. She is wearing a bra, but with the way he’s looking at her, she wouldn’t be surprised if her nipples were as hard as glass, even in this heat. Not to mention it’s just a lacy bralette offering minimal nipple suppression. She probably should have considered that when getting dressed in an athletic tank and loose shorts.

Ben takes the bat from her and tucks it under his arm to grab her hips and pull her back until her feet are just hugging the sides of the base. Then, he taps the insides of her thighs gently with the bat and tells her, “spread your legs a bit more.”

…she needs a TikTok video of that as well. Or really, just the audio will do.

The rumble of distant thunder breaks her train of thought and Ben looks up to the sky.

“Should we be concerned about that?” he asks, assessing the clouds.

Rey shrugs. “It sounds pretty far away.”

He nods in a ‘good enough for me’ kind of way before continuing his lesson.

“Alright, now, here’s how you’re gonna hold it,” he says as he stands next to her, facing the same direction she is. He grips the bat and displays how both of his hands consume what appears to be far too much of its length. “You want your dominant hand on top and your knuckles lined up.”

Ben reaches up to shake out and bend her elbows a bit more and tilts the bat at an angle over her shoulder as more thunder rumbles overhead. 

“Not bad, Niima.” He steps up behind her and plants a hand just above her ass. “Straighten your back.” Then, he slides his massive paws down her arms until they’re covering her own hands. He swirls the bat over their shoulders and says into her ear, “bend your knees a bit.” And when she does, “good girl.”

“Draw the bat back and then you’re going to swing.” As Ben speaks, he guides their slow-motion swing, allowing her to feel every bulging muscle in his arms as he follows through. “Your power is going to come from your legs, so don’t be afraid to really throw your body into it. You want your hips to rotate and the weight to be shifted to this front leg.” He taps her left thigh. 

“This is a lot to remember,” she admits, making him chuckle.

“Wanna give it a go?” He separates himself from her like he didn’t just set every nerve in her body on fire and heads to the pitcher’s mound. He takes a ball off the top of the basket and tosses it up before catching it.

Rey tries to remember what he’d told her–something about bending, drawing, leg-power.

“Keep your eye on the ball,” he tells her. “Bend your knees. Good.”

Ben tosses the first ball to her. Rey hesitates initially, trying to remember everything he told her to do. She’s so focused, she can’t even be bothered with the louder, closer thunder overhead.

“Ahh, how do I know where the ball is going to be?” Rey asks after she swings and misses. “I thought you were throwing it to me!”

Ben laughs. “I did throw it to you, Rey, but you know the point of the real game is to make it so the person swinging can’t hit the ball, right? Let’s try again.”

Even with his sunglasses on, she can see his gaze dip to her ass when she bends her knees and assumes the position.

Ben tosses the ball underhand, Rey keeps her focus, swings… and hits it! The ball hits the ground just past second base and Ben throws his arms up in celebration.

“Woo!” he shouts excitedly. “That was great! At least a double.”

Ben approaches her with both hands up and she grants him the double hi-five. “That was fucking amazing, Niima. You ready to start tonight? We’ll put you first in the line-up. You can go before me.”

She snorts. She knows he’s humoring her, but his enthusiasm is infectious. “So that would have put me on second base?”

“For sure,” Ben agrees and between that devastating smile and the praise he showers upon her, she’s helpless.

Ben’s face remains so breathlessly near hers, she can see a tiny drop of water as it lands high on his cheekbone. He lifts his gloved hand to wipe it away when the clouds above them open up and release a deluge of rain all at once.

“Shit!” Ben yells, reaching for her hand. “Come on!”

Rey sprints alongside him toward the dugout, shrieking with laughter as he leads her down the steps. Unfortunately, the dugout’s roof offers minimal cover against the torrential downpour and rain continues to soak them from seemingly all angles. Ben swiftly grabs the locker room door and sweeps her through.

Once inside, water droplets trickle down her arms, chest, back, and legs. She grasps the soaked, clingy fabric of her shirt, and peels it away from her body in an attempt to wring it out. She gives up after a moment and lets the shirt snap back into place as she realizes where she is.

She’s not supposed to be in the players’ locker room and when she looks around, she thinks she realizes why.

Rey had never really given much thought about what the team’s locker room looks like, but if she had to guess, it certainly wouldn’t be this: the perimter is lined with spacious built-in cubbies for each player with their names and numbers engraved on gold placards at the top. The shelves are neatly organized with cleats, socks, ballcaps, and sweatbands all featuring the Fleek Eel’s mascot and colors. Several different uniforms are pressed to perfection and hang from the crossbar in each space–tonight’s are at the front.

In the center of the room, plush leather couches are arranged in a conversational circle surrounding a large, low table that features an array of protein-rich snacks. The walls are adorned with team photos, championship pennants, and mounted TVs broadcasting sports highlights.

It really puts those benches bolted into concrete and high school hallway lockers to shame over on the employee side of the stadium.

“Rey,” Ben says from behind her, offering her a towel.

“Thank you,” she says, taking it gratefully, eyeing a water droplet that races over a vein in his neck and disappears in the collar of his shirt.

She should be worried about being in the players’ locker room, rather than wondering what he looks like with his shirt off, but she’s not certain he’s not thinking the same. Especially when he takes his sunglasses off and looks her up and down.

“No prob,” Ben says, flashing her a smile that makes her nervous in the best way. “You know, you should probably retire from baseball. You hit that double and can quit batting a thousand.”

Rey purses her lips together and nods like she knows what he’s talking about. “Mmmm… yeah, a thousand. Exactly what I was thinking.”

Ben laughs and takes a step toward her. “One thousand is a perfect batting average. So you divide your hits by your at bats.” His eyes darken as his gaze drops to her lips. “You’ve only had one at bat… but you got a hit. So…” He lifts a hand to tuck her still-dripping hair behind her ear and Rey’s eyes track his Adam's apple as it bobs in his throat. “You’re perfect.”

Her pulse surges, heart beating so furiously fast and heard, she’s certain he can hear it.

“Mm-maybe I should go to the employee locker room to dry off,” Rey says worriedly and they both know it’s not her rule-breaking that’s got her on edge.

“Is that what you think should do?” Ben asks.

She shrugs. 

“Is that what you want to do?” he asks, taking one more step closer to her.

She shakes her head. 

“What do you want to do?” he asks and his voice is so deep, she feels it rumble beneath her ribcage, deeper than the thunder still booming overhead. “Because I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second I saw you, Rey.”

Rey’s lips part and her tongue pokes out to wet them. That seems to be exactly the answer Ben Solo needs because in one more half-step, he’s gripping the back of her thigh and is lifting her one-handed , to press her against the wall next to his cubby. 

Her ankles lock behind his back and she tangles her fingers in his soaked hair, clinging to him as he kisses her hungrily. Ben releases a primal groan and she can’t help herself when her hips roll against his. Even after getting caught in the rain, he’s so warm. She can’t get enough.

His tongue slips past her lips to find her own and she’s never felt such an overwhelming, all-consuming desire for anyone before, at least, not like this. She thinks he might feel it, too.

A massive hand slides from her thigh and over her ass to her hip, where his fingertips search for the hem of her shirt. Ben scrunches the fabric and before she can even help him remove it, Ben pulls her shirt up over her head and lets it fall to the floor with a wet clop. 

He pulls his head back to get a look at her and shakes his head. “Fucking perfect,” he murmurs as his mouth finds her neck. He sucks at the skin just beneath her ear and darts of pleasure race straight from the source straight to her core. Rey grinds down on him a bit, desperate for some semblance of friction and pulls a groan out of him that sets her soul on fire.

“Ben,” Rey moans, relaxing in his arms to afford him more access to her neck. He’s got her feeling so sexy… until the back of her head crashes against the wooden shelf of Ben’s cubby. 

Terrified of ruining their moment, she giggles to prove she’s fine. Truthfully, the pain she endured when her head hit that hard surface is nowhere close to the ache she feels between her legs.

Before he can ask if she’s okay, Rey dives back into their kiss, her lips crashing against his with renewed passion. Ben growls and tightens his grip on her, before carrying her toward one of the couches. He lays her down onto her back, settling between her legs and this time, when she rolls her hips up toward his, she can feel his own desire for her, thick and hard in his pants.

He pulls away from their kiss to tug at the lace covering her breasts, pulling the fabric down until they spring free.

“Fuck, Rey.” His mouth wastes no time in tasting her nipples. 

Rey’s back arches, her moans echoing off the locker room walls she shouldn’t even be inside.

Surges of desire flood her system and pool low in her belly, only intensifying her need for him. The incessant throb between her legs is so great, it’s almost a relief when he pulls his mouth off of her.

His gaze remains locked on her now-swollen, red nipples as he sits back on his haunches, bites the Velcro fastener of his left glove, and tears it open. She watches, chest heaving, as he bites the tip of the middle finger between his teeth and rips the glove off. 

“Come here,” he commands softly, reaching for her forearm and pulling her up.

Rey bites her lip as he guides her to straddle his lap and immediately, she grinds down, her center seeking more friction than the other angle could provide.

When Ben lifts his opposite hand to his mouth in an attempt to repeat the glove removal process, Rey stops him.

“The glove stays on. You’re right-handed, yeah?” she breathes. “Keep that one on.”

Ben arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, Sweetheart? And what do you want me to do with this glove on, hm?” 

He clearly knows, however, because Rey’s thigh breaks out in goosebumps as his hand climbs her leg, the soft, warm leather tickling her sensitive skin. She’s practically shaking with anticipation by the time his fingertips make it to the hem of her shorts.

“Let me touch you,” he whispers against her mouth and she whimpers.

Internally, Rey has a half-second of panic: what is she doing?! Someone could walk in on this. Hell, she could get fired for this. 

However, any intention she had of stopping disappears the second Ben says, “spread your legs a bit more for me, Baby” and she thinks it might be worth it.

“Oh my god,” Rey moans when he slides her shorts and panties to the side so a gloved finger can stroke her properly. 

She fists the fabric of his t-shirt, desperate to pull it off and get his skin on hers, but then a leather-clad finger swirls around her clit and Rey loses function of her motor skills.

“‘s this what you wanted me to do with the glove?” he asks, smirking as she moans.

Rey nods.

“What about this?” Ben presses the finger to her entrance and it feels so big, there’s no way it’s going to fit.

“Ben,” she gasps.

“Relax, Rey,” he tells her softly, looking between them to watch his finger ease into her. “Fuck, you’re taking this so well, aren’t you? Taking it like you were made to.”

This man’s demeanor infuriated her 24 hours ago (and quite frankly, still kind of does), but now she’s in his lap, wetter than she thought possible (and not from the rain).

Her jaw falls open as her walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Look at you, dripping all over my glove. This is what you wanted, huh?” he asks, pressing his mouth to the underside of her jaw. He sucks at her skin as he withdraws his finger slightly and presses it back into her, making her moan. “You wanted me to finger-fuck you with my glove on?”

Rey’s lips curl up into a smile. “I… I didn’t know I wanted this until… you… ohhh, oh my god, Ben!”

“That’s it, Baby… knew you’d sound so pretty saying my name like that.” Ben presses his finger deeper inside of her and Rey’s glad he liked that because she can no longer form a coherent thought. Hell, she can barely remember her own name.

“I can’t feel your g-spot with these gloves,” he growls, watching her face intently as he strokes her front wall. “Have you ever squirted before?”

She shakes her head because words are no longer going to happen for her.

“You’ll be squirting for me often,” Ben says as though it’s not a choice.

As though this won’t be the only time. 

“Ben, I’m-”

“I know,” he interrupts her. 

He continues pumping his finger but infuriatingly removes the pressure from her clit. She groans and he chuckles, knowing exactly what he’s doing. And sure, she very willingly got half-naked for this man but she never expected him to be this attentive or knowledgeable.

His free hand stimulates every other part of her body: her thigh, her hip, her breasts. It climbs up her sternum and he wraps his fingers around her throat gently, looking into her eyes, and squeezing.

“Ben, please,” she begs softly. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, Rey,” he tells her without breaking eye contact. “Such a naughty little thing you are… letting a ball player touch you like this in the locker room. Let me put my glove inside you like you need it. You did need this, didn’t you, Baby?”

She whimpers as she rolls her hips desperately into his hand, gasping when he puts her out of her building misery, and presses his thumb to her clit.

“You like feeling this glove inside you, Sweetheart?” Ben asks, pumping a little faster. “You like my glove filling up this tight pussy?”

“Ohhh…ohhh my god, Ben, don’t ssstop… right there… yes!” Rey cries out as she unabashedly rides his hand.

Ben curls his gloved finger toward her front wall and for someone who claimed he couldn’t find her g-spot, Rey sure falls apart like he’d discovered the damn thing and stuck a flag there.

“Come on my hand, Sweetheart,” Ben coos. “That’s it. Let go, Rey… ruin this fucking glove.”

He’s managed to build an orgasm so intense and so deep, she’s hopeless to resist its consumption of her. And just like Ben Solo, Best Baseball Player in the Universe (apparently), promised, she’s drenching his hand and his lap.

Her body thrashes as she squirts, but he holds her steady, keeps her where he needs her to ensure the fierce waves of her orgasm continue to crash through her until she’s received every last drop of pleasure and he’s wrung every last drop out of of her .

“These aren’t even my game gloves but fuck, I’ll be wearing them tonight,” he says as her orgasm subsides and he works her slower, more gently, bringing her down from the most intense high she’s ever experienced.

After soaking his already wet lap, his wrist, and her thighs, she melts against him. Ben removes the glove and his bare hands are on her in an instant, squeezing her, touching her, feeling her as she heaves with her face buried in his chest. 

Once she’s mostly caught her breath, Rey’s own hand reaches between them to stroke the massive bulge in his pants. Ben looks down to watch her and then looks up, clearly conflicted, like he shouldn’t be letting her do this.

“What’s your batting average?” Rey asks, proud of herself for remembering that term after what he’d just put her through. Her hand doesn’t stop.

“In the league? Three twenty-seven,” he replies, stroking her cheek. “Today? A thousand.”

Rey rolls her eyes and she can’t help but laugh. 

Before either of them can say anything else, his phone vibrates in his shorts pocket. Carefully, he slides Rey from his lap. She fixes her debauched clothing while he glances at the screen and ponders answering.

“Fucking Dameron,” he groans.

“Who?”

“My agent. He thought it would be best if he accompanied me on this little trip to keep an eye on things and he’s being more of a pain in the ass than usual.” Ben sighs and ultimately declines the call before cupping her face to kiss her. “You should probably go. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“What about you?” she asks, biting her lip and eyeing his lap. “Don’t you want-”

Ben’s phone starts vibrating again.

“Oh, I want,” he says, looking her up and down unabashedly and growling. “Believe me, Sweetheart, I want... but I should stay pent up for the game. We’re really not supposed to uh… finish right before a game, if you know what I mean.”

Rey laughs. “Oh my god, seriously?”

His eyes scan her body like a laser, taking her in. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly like he’s considering breaking that rule. 

Instead, Ben clears his throat and nods before looking up into her eyes. “Besides, the team will start showing up soon, I’m sure. No matter how badly I want to pull you into the shower with me.”

She clenches at the thought and distracts herself by looking for her shirt.

“So… can I get your number?” Ben asks and that cocky smirk is back. 

She doesn’t hate it though. It somehow makes her feel exceptionally special, despite knowing deep down that she’s being delusional, this could never actually go anywhere, and he probably does this with different girls in every city he visits.

Still, Rey can’t wipe the smile from her face as she reaches into her side pocket for her phone. She unlocks it as Ben stands up. He towers over her as her phone comes to life… and plays the video of him giving the ball to that little girl in the Solo #50 jersey.

Rey quickly closes out of the app but she’s too late. Ben’s smirk practically stretches to the opposite side of the locker room. 

“Now what am I doing on the phone of a woman who proudly claims to know nothing about baseball?” he asks. “Not to mention, that was last season. You probably had to dig pretty deep to find that.”

“Nevermind, you can’t have my number,” she says, stepping away from him and he cracks up as he grabs her wrist.

“Come here, I’ll trade ya,” he says, leading her to his corner. He swipes a game hat off the top shelf of his cubby and places it on her head. It’s so big, the bill slips over her eyes and Ben has to take it off, adjust it to be smaller, and replace it.

“There. Wear it tonight. So I can see you behind the bar,” he says with a wink.

They’ve just finished exchanging numbers when a text message from Poe Dameron appears on his screen.

“I gotta shower and go meet him in the offices,” Ben sighs. “You know how to get out of here?”

Rey nods as he cups her face with both hands and bends down to kiss her. He growls into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip. “This isn’t over.”

She presses her fingertips to her lips and watches him disappear into the shower room. Did she really just let a professional baseball player who she’s absolutely not allowed to talk to… finger her in the locker room she’s absolutely not allowed to be in?

Her eyes drift to the scene of the crime: the leather couch where he’d made her feel things she’d only ever experienced on her own and then some. She notices a small table just to the left of the couch with a pad and pen placed in the center.

Rey does a quick scan across the room and removes the lace bralette from under her shirt.

Just so there’s no doubt when you’re looking at me tonight. XX, Rey

She sets the bralette on his shelf behind his socks so he’ll most definitely find it, and places the note on top. 

Then, she slips out the back and heads for the employee locker room.

Chapter Text

Once Rey is behind the bar, her body is on autopilot–cutting limes, filling ice, counting bottles in each station. Today, she finds herself exceptionally grateful for that autonomous response because in her head, she’s still in the locker room with Ben.

Until she’s got Plutt’s gravelly voice, barely audible over his wet cough, telling her that tonight is another sold-out game and she’s going to need to bring the energy and remain focused. She nods along, agreeing with whatever her boss says, but her not-safe-for-work thoughts return the second Ben steps onto the field for warm-ups. 

He glances up in her direction and she gives him a sly smile before pretending to look busy.

As the stadium fills up, Rey is hyper-aware of all of the fans wearing Ben Solo #50 jerseys and for the first time since she’s started working here, she gets it. At least, she’s starting to.

She does a final lap before the National Anthem, ensuring everyone in her section has a drink and double-checking that the patrons on the outskirts of her half of the bar are content as well. She’s not going to let anyone distract her from Ben’s first at bat. Rey may not know a lot about baseball… but she knows he’s up first.

“First up to bat for your Coronet City Fleek Eels: number fifty, center fielder, BEN SOLO!”

The stadium bursts with applause so intense, the concrete beneath her feet begins to rumble. Rey feels almost nervous as Ben steps up to the plate. He looks so good with his jersey tucked into his pants and casually twirling his bat at his side.

Ben gets into position the way he’d taught her, only, his motions are so fluid, so effortless, it’s beyond second nature. Ben Solo looks like he was born to play this game. 

The pitcher stares him down while Ben lifts his bat over his left shoulder and twirls it a few times, warming up his wrists while he waits.

Rey feels time stop when Ben turns his head slightly and sniffs his gloved right hand . A scorching heat rushes through her when she recalls him telling her those aren’t even his game gloves but she’ll be damned if he’s not still wearing them, reveling in what he’d done to her in the locker room just hours before. 

The pitcher draws back and throws the ball from his perch on the mound. Rey inhales sharply, but Ben doesn’t swing. The catcher snatches the ball in his glove and Ben takes a step back, shakes out his leg and cracks his neck to the right, then the left.

“Ball one,” the announcer says.

“Nice hat, Rey!” Dexter says as Ben and the pitcher get back into position. “Where’d you get it?”

Of course Dexter wants to make small talk the first time she’s actually interested in what’s happening on the field. 

“Uh, the team store,” she lies quickly, moving to the right to get a clearer shot of Ben. She can feel her heart pounding against her ribcage on his behalf.

“Bullshit,” Dexter says. “That’s a player hat. You can’t buy those.”

“Oh… uh… maybe eBay?” she offers but then the pitcher is throwing the ball and Ben is swinging and the entire crowd is standing up and screaming as the ball cracks against his bat and soars over the field, over the stands, and clears the stadium.

Even Rey throws her hands up in celebration as he tosses his bat to the ground and takes off running to first. She realizes she’s smiling like an idiot when he glances up at her as he’s rounding second base but she can’t help it. He’s just so dynamic, so exciting, so… so… ugh, he’s just so fucking hot, she wants to cry.

By the time the 7th inning stretch rolls around, Rey is exhausted. Between tending to her patrons sitting at the bar, keeping an eye on the walk-up section at the bar for to-go drinks, and focusing all of her voluntary attention on Ben, it’s a lot to keep up with.

Currently, Ben is stationed a few feet off second base, his cleats digging into the clay as he shifts his weight onto his bent front knee. His eyes remain locked on the pitcher and as soon as the ball bursts from the pitcher’s hand, Ben breaks out into a sprint.

Rey gasps when the catcher’s mitt snaps shut and he hurls the ball to the third baseman. Ben tucks one leg as he plunges into a fluid slide toward the base.

Unfortunately, the opponent already has the ball in his glove and swoops down to tag Ben out. The umpire signals and the crowd explodes in outrage. Through the chorus of boo’s that breaks out, Rey faintly hears some profanities and various loud declarations of, “he was safe!”

“Oh, shit… are we gonna get a Ben Solo explosion?” Dexter asks, rubbing his palms together.

Rey frowns when everyone leans forward to see.

Instead, Ben claps his hands together and tosses his head back in frustration before ripping off his helmet in annoyance and walking off the field toward the dugout.

“Damn, I was really hoping he was gonna get ejected,” a man sitting to the right of Maz says.

Rey scowls. “Well, he’s here to work on his temper, isn’t he?” she snaps. “Maybe he’s turned a new leaf.”

She reaches for a shaker and a bottle of tequila, preparing to focus on the margarita she needs to make, but doesn’t miss the insufferable smirk Kaydel shoots in her direction.

After the game has ended and the bar’s been closed out, Rey texts Mitaka to let him know she’s walking out with the other bartenders so he doesn’t need to worry about escorting her to her car.

It’s not exactly the truth but it is very convenient because Rey's path to her car takes her past the players' lot where Ben is leaning casually against his rental. He’s staring down at his phone and has one leg crossed over the other. When he runs his hand through his hair, he looks so cool, it’s almost annoying.

No, it’s actually exceptionally annoying, Rey decides. Because she still can’t quite figure out why she’s so captivated by him.

Before she can unpack all of that, her phone vibrates in her hand with a text from Ben that reads: hey

He couldn’t be bothered to capitalize the word or use any punctuation but Rey’s heart pounds in her chest nonetheless, betraying any attempt at indifference. 

“Hey yourself,” she says, approaching him.

He looks up and the smile that appears on his face disarms her instantaneously.

“That hat looks good on you,” Ben admits before attempting to tuck his phone into his pants pocket.

Immediately, it meets resistance and her eyebrow arches as he plucks the impeding object. From his pocket, Ben produces a delicate wad of blue lace and Rey’s cheeks flush furiously. The bralette she’d left in his locker rests in the palm of his hand.

“I played with this in my pocket, you know,” he says. “Might just be my new good luck charm.”

“You did not! Ben!”

Ben smirks and nods. “You should come home with me. Or well, to my hotel.”

”Oh, I should, should I?” Amused, Rey smiles, her hands settling on her hips

”Yep,” he says, popping his p. “It’s a suite with room service and a balcony. Way too big for one person.”

Rey looks him up and down. He looks damn good. But tomorrow night could be his last game here and then she’d never see him again. Maybe it’s worth it for the opportunity to climb him like a redwood but she knows she’s not good at not becoming attached.

A nagging suspicion whispers that she's already lost that battle.

“Come on, I was a good boy at the game today,” he says. “I didn’t argue with the ump when I was clearly safe stealing third.” Rey rolls her eyes as he continues. “I even hit a homerun for you.”

“That was for me, huh?” she asks. “Well, I have to work my other job in the morning.”

“You have two jobs?” he asks with a frown.

“Yeah, well, that’s my ‘real’ job. The bartending is just a summer gig for extra cash.” 

Ben hooks his finger in the bra strap and twirls it around. Rey laughs and lunges for it but Ben holds it just out of reach.

The front of her body is pressed against his after jumping and failing to secure her bra. He takes the opportunity to cup her face with both hands and softly command, “come home with me.”

“Okay,” she whispers a half-second before his lips connect with hers. 

Then he steps them away from the car, opens the passenger door and says, “get in.”

Rey obliges.

As Ben peels out of the parking lot, Rey turns and rests the side of her face against the headrest to take him in. She’s obviously attracted to him, but the severity of it shocks her. She’s never wanted anyone the way she wants him. 

She wants to ask if he does this all the time. If he finds a girl every place he travels. It wouldn’t surprise her. Afterall, she initially wanted nothing to do with him and she folded like a house of cards hit by a light breeze. Hell, two days ago, she had no idea this man existed . Meanwhile, there are actual beautiful women who make it their life mission to bag an athlete.

“So what’s your other job?” he asks, making his way down the street.

“Oh, it’s a customer service online chat job. It’s remote so I can do it from anywhere, which is nice. I’m saving up my bartending money to travel,” she explains. “The goal is to eventually hit the open road and just work from wherever.”

“Where do you want to travel?”

“Everywhere,” she admits. “Alderaan, Batuu. I’d love to go to Naboo one day if I can afford it.”

“Naboo is beautiful,” Ben says. He’s got a one-handed grip on the steering wheel while his other finds her thigh. The gentle weight of his massive hand ignites a fire within her. “My Nana is from Naboo. I used to spend my summers there.”

“No way!” Rey exclaims. “I bet that was so much fun.”

His pinky finger digs its way beneath the hem of her bicycle shorts and she involuntarily clenches on the memory of what it felt like to have his hand between her legs last time. 

“Yeah, that’s really where I became obsessed with baseball. I grew up going to Naboo Fambaas games. I always dreamed of playing for them. When I was younger, I was obsessed with Ezra Bridger.” Rey stares at him blankly. Ben chuckles. “He played for the Fambaas back in the day. He was a little reckless as a player but I always resonated with that.”

“Reckless how?”

“He just made crazy plays. Would go diving for the ball or throw it from the outfield to home plate. He was all about the team, all about winning, no matter what it took,” Ben explains and it’s so easy for her to get lost in his passion, even if she doesn’t fully understand. “No one played like Ezra Bridger. His instincts on the field were second to none. I always wanted to be like that.”

“Why don’t you play for the Fambaas?” Rey asks. “If that’s what you wanted?”

He lets out a laugh. “It’s not that easy. I got drafted by the Hounds four years ago and have been with them ever since. I suppose I could try to make my way to the Fambaas but I dunno… I love the guys in Corellia. Now I wanna just stay there for my whole career and retire a Hound.”

As Ben makes a right-hand turn, he regrettably releases her thigh to steer them into the porte-cochère at the Novaplex Hotel. Rey’s door is opened for her as soon as Ben puts the car in park.

“Mr. Solo, welcome back,” the valet on the driver’s side says as he opens the door. 

“Thank you.” Ben slips him a tip before walking around the front of his car to Rey. “Have a good night.”

His hand finds her lower back as though it’s magnetized and Rey has never felt more important in her entire life than she does when those valet boys whisper about meeting the Ben Solo, or when the doorman opens the door for them with a smile, or when they walk into the grand lobby of the most opulent hotel she’s ever been inside.

Rey’s somewhere between looking around, taking in her lavish surroundings and acting like she belongs when she hears, “Dad, that’s Ben Solo!” 

Ben hears his name and looks across to the seating area where a little boy’s father is holding the back of his Corellia Hounds shirt to keep him in place while his legs move a million miles a minute.

“Please can we go say hi?!”

“Let’s not bother him,” the dad says.

“One sec,” Ben tells Rey, pulsing his fingers against her lower back before approaching them. “Hey, Bud. Didya catch the game tonight?”

The little boy’s eyes blow wide as he opens and closes his mouth, unable to speak as he looks up at Ben towering over him.

“We were at the game,” Dad says. “You were brilliant. My son’s a big fan.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben asks. “What’s your name?”

“Temiri,” the boy says softly. 

Rey watches, clearly amused as Ben drops his duffel bag and eases himself down onto one knee.

“You a Hounds fan, Temiri?” Ben asks, rifling through his duffel bag. The little boy nods. “Let’s see, I think I have… ah!” He pulls a baseball out of his bag and a Sharpie. 

Rey is nearly strangled by her own ovaries as she watches him sign the ball and hand it to the boy. 

“Wow, thank you!” the little boy says.

“You’re welcome. Do you play?”

“Yep. I play third base now but I wanna be a center fielder just like you!”

“Third base is an important position!” Ben insists. “They don’t give just anyone that responsibility. You must be really good!”

The boy is speechless.

Ben chuckles and stands up. He offers Temiri a fist-bump and says goodbye before joining Rey near the elevators.

“Well, that was ridiculously sweet,” she says as he presses the button for the 28th floor. 

”The kids are the best part,” he says. “They just get so excited. I remember being like that. My dad was kinda in and out of my life but when he was around, we would go to ball games and he would take me early so I could meet the players. I always told myself that if I ever made it big, I would meet every kid who wants to meet me. For some of those kids, baseball is all they have, you know?” 

Rey nods. She does know. Not about baseball really, but about not having much to look forward to as a child. That painful reminder makes her feel like she shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t belong here, at the Novaplex Hotel. She’s not the WAG type. She’s the ‘bartend in a tank top and go out with guys she meets on Tinder’ type. 

Rey’s concerns simmer as Ben interlaces their fingers and guides her to a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway. He keeps one hand in hers while the other scans his keycard. He navigates all of it so smoothly, she knows she’s not the first and a tiny part of her wonders how many there have been before her.

She keeps her concerns to herself as she steps into the room and looks around. The suite is so big, she can’t even see all of it from the foyer.

When Ben wraps his arms around her from behind, her eyes fall shut and magically, she feels like the only woman in the world. Reverently, he kisses her jaw, then along side of her neck, and Rey smiles as her head tilts to afford him more access.

“How about that shower?” he asks, his lips vibrating against her skin.

Rey nods, then shrieks as she’s spun and lifted into the air. Ben’s mouth finds hers as he makes his way down the hallway to the bathroom. He sets her down on the marble bathroom countertop and strips his shirt, revealing prominent pecs, broad shoulders, and a toned abdomen. 

Rey can’t help herself when she reaches out to touch him, her fingertips reveling in the hard ridges and dipping into the craters of his mostly hairless torso, save for a trail of thick, dark hair that starts at his belly button and disappears beneath the waistband of his pants. He watches, clearly amused as she traces the deep V-shaped lines defining his hips.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight,” he admits, stepping away from her to turn no fewer than three shower knobs until water begins to flow from the rainfall showerhead above. “Of all those pretty little noises you made.” 

Upon his return, Ben brushes his thumb along her bottom lip until it separates slightly from its counterpart. Rey lets her mouth go slack as he eases the tip of his thumb inside. She accepts it readily as steam begins to billow around them, maintaining eye contact as her tongue swirls around his thick thumb.

“Of how sexy you looked, letting me make you come like such a good girl,” he says and withdraws his thumb to remove her (his) hat.

Rey lifts her arms straight up in the air and Ben tugs her shirt off before letting it flutter to the floor. Her nipples are already hard, desperate to feel his mouth on them again. He looks her up and down appreciatively and smirks. “Of how you barely gave me the time of day when we met and then there you were… in my lap… begging for me.”

She bites her lip when he steps away. Ben eases her off the counter and stands her up before kissing her. She briefly wonders if that’s all this had been: his own way of proving to himself that he could get any girl… even one who wasn’t fawning over him. But then he kisses his way down her chest and over her stomach and she kind of doesn’t care if that’s the case. He’s proven to her that he can make her come… so if she can get a few more orgasms out of this and then never sees him again, it will still have been worth it.

Once Ben’s on his knees, he reaches for the waistband of her bicycle shorts and doesn't waste time tugging them down, leaving her in nothing but her already soaked panties.

Standing over him in her pale pink, cotton underwear, she hopes he’s not disappointed. She bets the women he usually hooks up with wear matching sets for him–lace bras with actual hooks and wires instead of the stupid flimsy bralette she’d randomly grabbed this morning while getting ready.

”Look at you,” he murmurs, kissing her hipbone as he tugs them down until they’re past her thighs and tumble down to the floor. “You’re fucking perfect, Sweetheart.”

His massive hand climbs her left calf, over her knee, and consumes her thigh before he lifts it gently and eases her leg over his shoulder. 

“I’ve been dying to taste this perfect pussy all day, Rey, fuck, you have no idea.”

Before she can tell him he doesn’t have to (hell, before she even registers what he’s saying to her), his tongue is pointed and licking a stripe through her soaked, pink petals. 

And suddenly, she’s not thinking at all.

“Oh… oh my god,” she gasps, one of her hands flying behind her to grip the counter for support. 

“I gotcha, Baby,” he takes his mouth off of her long enough to say.

Ben’s own grip tightens on her and her free hand tangles itself in his lush, raven hair.

When she looks down, Ben’s eyes lock on hers and she swears he’s smirking that stupid fucking smirk, even as his tongue flicks out against her clit.

Moisture gathers across her bare skin as the wafting steam drifts by. Ben’s tongue glides through her labia like a hot knife through butter.

“Ben!” Rey gasps. 

He pulls back and she misses his mouth immediately. But then he’s pressing two of his fingers to her entrance and her moan grows louder by the second as he eases them deeper inside of her, stretching her.

”So wet for me, Baby. So tight… fucking hell, woulda thought my glove stretched you out earlier.” he groans, sucking her clit into his mouth as his fingers pull out and push back in. 

Rey bites her lip as warmth pools high on her already pink cheeks.

”Ben, I’m… I’m close,” she gasps as pleasure swirls deep within her. Ben’s tongue and fingers work in sync to apply friction and pressure where she needs them most and she cannot believe how good he is at this.

”Yeah, come on my tongue, Baby. Come all over my face,” Ben growls, his lips vibrating against her soaked center.

And she does.

Rey’s hips roll desperately against his face as white-hot pleasure courses through her. Stars burst behind her squeezed-shut eyes when he first tips her over the edge and she’s making noises she’s never heard herself make. At least, they’re not the tried and true rehearsed noises she typically emits during sex. 

Ben slows his fingers and eases up on her sensitive bud, prolonging her orgasm while simultaneously bringing her down from her high.

Gasping, she reaches for his shoulders and as soon as he’s standing, his hands are on her face. While she works his pants down over his hips, Ben guides her backwards into the shower. Water cascades down onto both of them, reminiscent of the storm they evaded earlier as one of his hands plants itself against the wall at the perfect moment to prevent her head from crashing into the tile a half-second after her ass does.

How he’s so aware is baffling because Rey has one thought and one thought only and it’s between them, probing her navel, and as hard as a baseball bat. 

“Are you allowed to finish this time?” she teases.

Ben chuckles against her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’d quit playing baseball altogether before I’d let it stop me from finishing for you.”

She whimpers at that.

Against her better judgment and everything she’s read in Cosmo over the years about safe shower sex, she lets Ben pick her up. He’s so strong and his motion is so effortless; she trusts him holding her more than she trusts herself standing. 

“Fuck. Rey,” Ben groans.

And then she gets the wind knocked out of her as Ben lines himself up at her entrance and presses inside. Rey gasps, burying her face into his neck and locks her ankles behind his back. Her walls stretch to capacity as he fills more than the allotted space

He growls as water pounds down on them, soaking their hair, their faces, their bodies. ”Good girl… holding on tight so I can fuck you like I need to?”

”Yes,” she moans. “Ben, please… please fuck me.”

He nips at her neck, drawing his hips back before slamming into her. Rey’s spine flattens against the tile but it all feels too overwhelmingly good for her to recognize any discomfort. Ben’s fingers dig deeper into the backs of her thighs as he picks up the pace, grunting into her ear.

”So tight, Rey. Fuck, you feel so good, Baby. Can’t believe I got you here.”

A surge of arousal shoots through her, causing her to cry out. 

Ben Solo has a unique ability to always make her feel like he’s the lucky one. 

As water beats down on their chests and shoulders, the droplets race down their torsos and get lost between their joined bodies. 

A smile stretches across Rey’s face as her head tips back. To the ceiling, she asks, “did you think about me? In here? Last night?”

Ben slams into her, hitting her harder and deeper than ever before as he growls, “yes.”

He manages to keep her in place with a one-handed grip on her thigh as he picks up the pace. His free hand roams her body, tracing her curves, feeling her breasts, lightly squeezing her throat.

“Unghhh… Ben!” She’s never felt so full before.

”Love it when you say my name like that, Baby. Let me hear you.”

Without hesitation, she screams his name, the push and drag of his cock through her tight channel, testing her walls better than anyone or anything ever has. “Ben, oh my god, yes! ”

“You’re gonna come on my cock, Rey,” he tells her, his hand leaving her neck and snaking between them. “I wanna feel you come, Baby.”

His thumb rolls repeatedly against her clit in-tune with his thrusts and Rey recognizes how lucky she is to have water cascading over her because she’s pretty sure she’s drooling… and possibly crying. All she can do is nod as Ben builds her up up up and bestows another orgasm onto her. 

Her eyes roll back in her head as her climax bursts deep within her. Sparks of arousal fire throughout every inch of her body as she moans and shakes and begs for more.

Ben is relentless in his pursuit to make that happen as tension builds higher and deeper . Rey is fairly certain she loses consciousness as he tips her over the edge again and pleasure crashes down her convulsing body in waves, shattering any semblance of reality she’d managed to grasp onto up to this point. 

”Fuck,” Ben groans, slamming his hand against the tile next to her head as his hips lose their rhythm. “Rey, I’m… I…”

Rey clings to him, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust. Roaring, Ben comes inside of her, filling her tight channel as the water beats down on them. He’s panting, out of breath, cheeks, chest, and ears flushed, but he manages to find enough oxygen in the depths of his lungs to kiss her until she’s panting again, too. 

Carefully, he eases out of her and sets her on the ground. Ben catches her when Rey’s knees give out and they both laugh.

”You’re fucking beautiful, Rey Niima,” he tells her, cupping her jaw in his hand.

She can feel his smile when he presses his lips to hers. 

After washing each other, Ben throws on a pair of boxers and dresses her in a white, cloud-soft bathrobe. Her fingers trace the luxuriously embroidered hotel monogram while he orders food for them from the suite’s living area.

“I have a secret,” Ben says, reaching for a chicken tender off the tray perched between them on the massive bed. “I sniffed my glove when I went to bat today. Pretty sure that’s why I hit that home run today.”

Rey’s cheeks warm but she can’t help but smile at the thought. ”Hm, are we certain it wasn’t your pent-up aggression from the locker room?” 

He laughs as she snags a couple fries and drenches them in ketchup. 

“No. But sometimes I worry I…” Ben brushes his hands together, dusting the salt and crumbs from his palms. “Nevermind.”

“No, what?” Rey asks, popping the last bite of chicken tender into her mouth before declaring she’s done.

“It’s dumb,” he admits. “Forget I said anything.”

“You can tell me,” she offers. “I promise I won’t like… tweet about it or go to the press or anything.”

Ben smiles, lets out a breath of laughter at the callback. 

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands as he speaks, “sometimes I worry that my talent is… in my anger. Ever since I was a kid, I had a temper. As I got older, I learned how to control it better. But I just… I hate letting people down, you know? And I hate losing. So the baseball field is like a perfect storm of all of that and I know I need to do a better job of keeping my cool but also, if I do, I’m scared my power will go with it.”

Rey’s eyes bulge as she takes a big sip of water. Damn, she was not expecting that .

“Um…” she starts.

“It’s dumb. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, Ben,” Rey says, placing her hand on his arm and forcing herself to repress the feel of his rock-hard bicep beneath her palm. “It’s not dumb. I get that, actually. I mean, I’m obviously not in as high-pressure of a situation as you are. But I understand that and I’ve felt similarly at times, too.”

He looks over at her, eyes wide, plush lips parted slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think everyone does in one way or another. Everyone has parts of themselves that they love and hate. It’s hard to admit that something so good can come from the worst, darkest parts of you. But that’s kind of beautiful also, don’t you think?”

“I never thought of it that way,” he admits. 

Rey shrugs as she stacks the plates and piles their silverware onto one side of the tray. “I just try to focus on what I can control, you know? You can’t control a bad call like I can’t control a traffic jam on my way to work but that’s life, you know? It’s full of bad calls and jams.”

When Ben looks at her after digesting her words, both corners of his mouth turn up creating smile lines that frame his plush lips like parentheses.He runs a hand through his hair and between how genuine his smile is, how vulnerable he’d just been, and how hard his bicep remains beneath her hand, Rey thinks she’s in love.

“Or maybe I’ll just have to get my gloves covered in you before each game.”

Ben laughs when her jaw drops in faux-outrage and he gives her one more kiss before triple-confirming she’s done eating. Then, he climbs out of bed and takes the tray away. She tries not to ogle his broad shoulders and back but she can’t help it. The man is hard and toned in places she didn’t even know muscles existed.

Rey climbs up onto her knees and meets him at the edge of the mattress when he returns.

”Or… maybe I can give you something to take your frustration out on,” she purrs.

Ben’s big hands untie the belt and separate the panels of her robe. He pushes it off her shoulders and hooks an arm around her lower back to lay her down onto the bed. Rey smiles as he spreads her legs and settles into the cradle of her thighs, holding himself over her. 

He nudges her nose with his. “Now, how could I ever say no to that?”

“I have to go home,” Rey says regretfully, climbing out from under the covers as morning light streams through the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows.

A massive hand wraps around her forearm and she lets him pull her back into bed. He turns onto his side to face her.

“Ben!” Rey giggles as he wraps his leg around her to hold her still. “I’ll see you at the stadium later, okay?”

”No, stay,” he whines, cupping the side of her neck. “I’ll give you something to wear.”

Ben kisses her and every nerve in her body ignites.

“It’d be too big,” he adds with a smirk that makes her squeeze her legs together. “But you can do that cute thing girls do and knot it on the side with a hair tie.”

Ben’s massive hand trails down the side of her body to her hip.

“You know what I mean?” he confirms. “With the hair tie?”

Rey giggles. She knew what he meant the first time but if his hand was planning on journeying further south, she was not going to interrupt.

“Yeah, I do,” she says. “You like that look?”

“Mhmm,” Ben agrees. His fingertips stroke her lower back gently. “This little strip of skin showing?” He blows out a puff of air. “Fuck, that drives me crazy. Especially if it’s my shirt you’re wearing.”

“Tied up shirts… that’s what does it for ya, huh?” Rey asks, practically purring as Ben continues to stroke her spine. “Not fancy lingerie?”

He shrugs the shoulder he’s not lying on. “Nah. I mean, sure, but I’d much prefer you in my clothes. Or nothing at all.” He smiles. “What can I say? I’m a simple man.”

Rey looks around the lavish room incredulously and he barks a laugh. “The team put me up here. I don’t have a say in where I stay. But when I was on second base last night and looked up to see you wearing my hat? Fuck, Rey. I practically went six to midnight.”

She bursts with laughter, which makes him chuckle as well. His leg is still draped over her hip, keeping her in bed with him. 

“I could listen to you laugh forever.” He kisses her, then whispers, “stay.”

Rey groans. There’s nothing she’d rather do more than stay. Forever.

”I wish. But I have to get to work, remember? My other job starts at ten.”

He glances at the clock next to the bed and sighs. “Well, it’s only eight. You’ve got time. At least stay for breakfast,” he says. “What do you like?”

Ben uses the leverage of his leg to roll her onto her back and spreads her thighs with his hips as he settles over her. 

”Pancakes,” she breathes as he reaches between them to position himself at her entrance. “Blueberry pancakes.”

”I can make that happen, Sweetheart,” Ben says with a smile, hooking his hips and making her back arch up off the bed as he fills her entirely.

She moans loudly. ”I want bacon, too.”

Rey has an undeniable skip in her step as she enters her apartment. 

She wants to believe that this is real, that a professional athlete likes her and she likes him and they can figure it all out and live happily ever after. 

But those types of things don’t really happen for Rey.

She regrets not confirming what their time together means to him but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when she was so high on sex and room service! 

Ben had been vulnerable with her about his temper and his career. She could have opened up to him, too, but nothing kills the mood quite like abandonment issues. She’d been called ‘clingy’ and ‘too much’ in the past so many times, it’s just easier to avoid letting people in. 

Her heart tells her this is different, that it’s never felt like this before. But her gut reminds her that Ben Solo is a professional athlete with girls fawning over him in the comment sections and undoubtedly in his DMs.

He can get any woman he wants.

With a sigh, Rey represses those thoughts and turns on her work laptop. While it boots up, she scoops some coffee grounds into a filter and gets a pot going. As it brews, she pads into her living room and turns on the TV for some background noise, flipping to ESPN, a channel she’s never spent more than a passing moment on. But maybe she can learn something.

Just as she’s doctoring up her coffee, she hears Ben’s name on the broadcast. Immediately, she’s nervous. As though he’ll appear like Beetlejuice and tease her for watching sports analysts talk about him. However, that doesn’t stop her from looping her fingers through the handle and covering the steaming mug with her other hand as she walks swiftly over to the couch and takes a seat to focus.

“His coaches are saying he’s doing better,” a thin, bald man with thick black-rimmed glasses says from behind what looks like a news anchor’s desk. “But I don’t know how you recover from a shoulder injury in less than a week, all the while you’re playing minor league ball. He never really took a break, did he?”

The camera pans out and three other men perched behind the same desk appear.

”Well, they’re obviously going to be keeping a close eye on him,” another man says. “But Ben Solo is not the kind of player you take a chance with. If they needed him to rehab longer, they would have enforced it. But I think the Hounds will be very happy to have their All-Star back.”

”You can say that again. They’ve already lost two of their three-game series with the Kashyyyk Blastails,” a third man adds. “So I bet they wish he was rejoining them before Wednesday.”

Wednesday? 

The first man looks at the camera, practically into Rey’s soul when he says, ”we are of course talking about Ben Solo getting called back up to the Majors. He will be starting for Corellia later this week, a decision that was agreed upon yesterday afternoon.”

Yesterday afternoon.  

Rey’s heart sinks like a stone.

She turns her TV off and stares at the black screen while she digests this information. The words ‘yesterday afternoon’ churn the breakfast in her stomach, her gut’s way of telling her it’d been right all along.