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She really never meant for things to get so out of hand, but after the cake, in retrospect, perhaps letting things carry on this far was a bad idea.
“Comfortable?”
It’s Solo. He’s back from doing whatever he had to do to get ready for…whatever this is.
“Um.”
Here she gives herself some honest evaluation.
Yes, she’s physically comfortable. The room temp is fine, she’s been fed – cake, no less – and she doesn’t need to pee or deal with any outstanding chores or major life issues that require her immediate attention.
And yet.
And yet under the tawny gaze of her extremely attractive chicken-farming neighbor, she can’t help but feel a bit out of sorts.
She’s been lying here for hours, pretending she’s been captured, as instructed, and generally snoozing in his very comfy bed, with the occasional sniff of his pillow in between bouts of dozing. The sleep is well-deserved, she figures. That fuckin’ rooster of his has woken her up every day at the ass crack of dawn since she moved in next door.
He said he’d be a few hours, being a farmer and all he had things to take care of. And so he invited her to have a nap in his bed because he wanted to set the mood – his words, set the mood – and if she really wanted him to do it, kill that damned rooster – oh, she did – then it sure would suit him if she’d hang out at his place until he could join her and take up his half of the bargain they made.
And since it was her day off and she’d been planning on doing nothing but laze around and read all day for a rare change of pace, she figured she might as well do it here, in Ben Solo’s lovely warm sheets, instead of at her place, just next door.
He’s watching her with a decidedly hungry look in his eye and she grins.
“The rooster?” she mutters, unwilling to proceed until she knows for sure the damned thing is finally–
“Wrung ‘is neck and I guess we’ll have ta eat ‘im, not that the hens’ll thank me for it.”
Assuming she’ll be sticking around after the sex, her jaw tingles at the thought of chicken dinner. Maybe fried chicken or roasted chicken with herbs.
“I’m makin’ chicken stock for dumplins. Takes a few hours ta make the stock, then a nuther two for the rest.”
Mmmm. Yes, in hindsight, that old stringy rooster wouldn’t be very tender.
“Well, let ‘im simmer, and let’s do this.”
She flips the sheet back to reveal her naked legs and wiggles her eyebrows at him. While this is the first time she’s actually done anything remotely sexual with her neighbor, she’s not exactly shy.
She did bake him a cake and pipe the words “Nice Cock” in royal buttercream icing on it just yesterday.
As if reading her thoughts, he sets a cardboard box on the bed beside her and shoots her a rather sheepish grin, faint pink tinting his high cheekbones.
He’s not shy, either – there’s no way a man who admits to the particular kink he’s into can be terribly reticent, no damned way at all – and yet he’s quiet and almost dignified as he begins to set the implements he intends to use on the sheets.
Rubber sheets under soft flannel ones.
Yes, rubber sheets make sense, Rey thinks practically. Because of all the…fluids.
She squirms a bit nervously as he slides a palm over the outside of her thigh, soothing the goosebumps that rise up the same way he soothed his mare Whisper this morning when Rey arrived at the ungodly hour of seven o’clock, having brought a peace offering of sorts.
“I been watching your place for a while,” she told him, holding a cute pink bakery box with the cake inside, baked yesterday evening at her shop in town after she realized she was at the end of her rope. “And us bein’ neighbors and all, well, I gotta tell you, I’d do just about anything to get you to do something about that god-awful racket your danged rooster makes every morning.”
He patted his horse’s rump and the mare trotted off, and then he calmly took the cake box in his large, lovely hands and invited her in for a spell and a cuppa joe if she was interested.
She was more than interested, she was about to die from her own curiosity. And after a bit of friendly conversation and some unintentional flirting, followed by some even more flirting that was absolutely intentional, she discovered his sense of humor is as bizarre as hers on top of his being attractive as all get-out.
What with all the flirting and talking and maybe just a bit of heavy petting once they cut into her cake, both exclaiming at the same time how good it was, well, she ended up just here, in his bed with early afternoon sunlight streaming in on her, naked from the waist down and more than a little interested to have some kinky sex.
It was the eggs, she’d informed him sagely, that made the cake taste so yummy.
“I like eggs,” he replied, swooping in to kiss her until her head spun and her knees buckled. Maybe it was a touch too eager and presumptuous, but she didn’t particularly care since she’s been wanting to climb him like a tree from pretty much the minute she clapped eyes on his tall, lanky form.
To be fair, he kept his groping to the outside of her clothes until she gave him the proper invitation. A real gentleman, this one.
“I like eggs, too,” she’d agreed, planting her mouth back on his, eager to resume the rather lovely interlude of Frenching.
“I’d like some fertilized eggs.” He stuck his tongue in her ear and it sent so many tingles through her body, she decided to let the odd little statement go in favor of getting her hands under his shirt.
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” Her reply was offhand and somewhat delayed because her fingertips were busy trailing up under his t-shirt, tracing over his abs and finding his rock-hard pecs and oooooie, heavens-to-Betsy, his muscles were fine indeed.
His big, wonderful hands scooped into her hair and cupped her jaw on either side and he kissed her, really kissed her then, and all the warm, melty bliss in the world ran through her veins like over-easy egg yolks and that’s when she made an offer she was sure he wouldn’t refuse.
“I will do anything you want. Anything. But you gotta get rid of that damned noisy rooster, Ben.”
He was already very dexterously unbuttoning her outer flannel and peeling the sleeves down her arms and she wasn’t sure he heard her until he said, “I’ll wring that bastard’s sorry neck…if you let me fertilize ya.”
She pulled back rather quickly at this, not at all she heard him correctly this time.
“What? No! I have a bakery to run! I hardly know you!” She was reluctant to remove her hands from his warm, appealing muscles, but thankfully he caught her wrists before they dropped away from his chest.
“No, no! Not like for real.” He shook his pretty head, calling attention to his gorgeous, albeit shaggy head of hair, dark as ink and thick and wavy, too, and a sigh of relief escaped her.
“Oh. I’m on birth control, anyhow. Although if you want to pretend, I guess I could try.”
“I do wanna pretend,” he insists, a naughty gleam entering his eye. “I been watching you from afar ever since ya moved in next door and I been…thinkin’ about it.”
This information might be disturbing if she didn’t just admit – somewhere in between giving him a cake that said “Nice Cock” and getting her hands up the front of his shirt – that she was more than a little interested in some hanky-panky.
She’s an open-minded girl, so when he explained what he wanted to do, well, hell, if it gets him in the sack and that fuckin’ public nuisance of a bird in the oven, then fine.
And so when he politely inquired if she’s allergic to gelatin or anything else for that matter, she blurted out no before properly considering just why he might ask such a thing.
But now, the answer has made itself quite apparent as he proudly shows her the near-dozen gelatin eggs he made while she’s been in here, in his room, his “captive” – a dynamic she intends to most definitely explore more thoroughly later – while she waits for him to set the scene and do whatever it is he’s gonna do with them eggs.
He’s all business as he removes a silicone ovipositor from the box at her side. It’s a milky green and she realizes it’s glow in the dark.
“You are a wild one, ain’t ya? That been used before?”
Catching her look, he assures her, “It’s brand new, I swear it on my best hen, may she never lay again.”
Rey humphs, more curious about just what that piece of silicone will shortly be depositing inside her.
“You don’t think we should try having regular sex first?” she asks, eyeing the tray of gelatin eggs he must have whipped up special just for this occasion.
But he shakes his head and shucks off his shirt and she sort of forgets to breathe in the presence of all that lovely, alabaster muscle on display.
“Now why would I go and do a fool thing like that? And ruin what might just be my only opportunity to try this?”
“Been thinking about it for a while?” she asks rather breathlessly.
“Yep.”
“Where’d you get that…uh, egg layin’ thing?”
A wicked smirk crawls over his face and he grunts, leaning close enough she can feel the heat of him against her skin, even through her t-shirt.
“I ordered it from the internet,” he breathes against her ear. “Right around the time you moved in next door.”
“You didn’t!” she chortles. He’s an unrepentant perv.
“Well you kept coming around for eggs every other day, and I started hopin' it was a sign from God or somethin’.”
“I already told you, I’m a baker! I go through lots of eggs.”
But his soft, silky lips are on hers and he settles against her for a long, unhurried kiss.
“I guess I was hopin’ you were kinky, too. So you can imagine my joy when I realized you confirmed it what with the cake ya brung me this mornin.”
“You really killed that damned bird?”
“He weren't a very nice cock, was he? Don’t worry. I wrung his neck before I chopped Luke’s head off, I ain’t a total monster.”
“Whose neck?”
“Luke Skyclucker. My rooster.”
“Wait. Isn’t your uncle’s name Luke Skywalker?”
“How’d you know that?”
“He comes into my bakery every damned day, that’s how! I didn’t realize you were so sentimental or I never would have asked ya to kill him.”
“S’long as you didn’t ask me to do in any of my girls, I guess we’re all right.”
His girls. It takes a full minute to realize he’s talking about his chickens.
“You name them after family, too?”
“Some of ‘em. Are we doin’ this?” His voice takes on a slightly peevish tone and she drapes her arms around his shoulders.
“I guess we are. A deal’s a deal.”
He rolls off her and the sudden loss of heat is accompanied by near darkness as he pulls his blackout curtains shut.
The room drifts into dim and quiet, and even the muted sounds of the farm animals outside seem to fade and disappear.
“And now I finally got you where I want you.” His voice has taken on a low, husky timbre, and her imagination springs to life.
He sounds rather like a dangerous creature here in the dark, and a thread of adrenaline slips through her. It’s a little terrifying. Thrilling.
Sure, she could tell him to stop. Just how well does she really know this chicken farmer?
“Ben?” she whispers.
“What, sweetheart?” he whispers back. He sounds a bit worried, and she grins into the darkness.
The sick, perverted bastard is anxious she’s gonna chicken out on him. She snickers.
“You really are a pervert, you know that?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, so long as you know. Well, carry on then.”
His bedroom door clicks all the way shut and she hears a rustling in the darkness. He’s stripping, and her heart starts pounding double-time.
It’s not hard at all to feel as if she’s been whisked away to some nefarious creature’s cave, and all this waiting he’s made her do all morning has suddenly amped up the tension tenfold.
A warm touch lands on the top of her foot and then something wet follows. His mouth?
Reflexively, she twitches and his grip tightens just a touch. A warning?
The wet heat moves to her inner ankle, the stroke of a thumb soothing the arch of her foot until she relaxes infinitesimally. Silky hair caresses her calf, her knee, the inside of her thigh, punctuated by soft, lapping strokes of his tongue.
It’s odd to have her top covered and her bottom half bared, to be treated as if he’s only interested in one particular part of her.
She swallows and breathes a ragged sigh when his steamy breath hits the junction of her thighs and firm hands spread her open.
It’s nearly pitch black in the room, and because she cannot see a thing, her other senses seem heightened. The slurping, lewd noises he makes as he licks the inner crease of her thigh is enough to coax an answering dampness from the sensitive flesh his thumbs are stroking, up and down, dipping close to where she needs him but not quite. Teasing, mocking, hot.
A soft groan reaches her ears at the same time the most wonderful, blissful slide of his tongue finally touches her, right there, that sweet spot, and she arches her hips.
“…good little incubator…”
This startling comment makes her giggle and clamp her thighs together, but he’s pushing them apart, humming, practically vibrating with excitement, she can feel it in the way his hands tremble and stroke her.
Soothing. But not stopping.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Unsure if she’s supposed to talk or what to say, she whimpers when his mouth falls on her again, sucking, licking, much more firmly now, insistent and hot in the luscious darkness.
A slow, liquid ache begins to build and she whimpers again and lifts her hips in rhythm to the stroking of his tongue. She’s getting wet from this, from the tension, from what he’s doing.
He’s sniffing and snuffling and licking at her, like a beast, a creature of the dark, and her thighs fall open, wanting more.
“You want my eggs in you?”
So fucking weird. And also…
“…yes…”
He chuckles, a deep, ominous sound, and a firm hand gropes at her belly, just below her navel, digging in as if feeling her womb, testing her willingness, and this time when his mouth moves between her legs a long, lovely finger strokes inside her, curling up in the most decadent swipe, once, twice, and again until her head is thrashing back and forth.
It’s not enough, not nearly enough.
She needs more.
“Please,” she whispers. The pressure inside increases, but it’s only his fingers, not enough, not what she needs. Still, her hips arch and she cries out when the beginnings of an orgasm start to flutter in her belly.
His hand remains in place but he pulls away, shifting back until the only thing connecting them is his fingers stroking inside her and his thumb rolling over the sensitive nub of her clitoris.
“You gonna let me fuck this little breeding hole once I fill it up?”
She bites her lip and this time her whole spine nearly comes off the bed when something wet and slick replaces his fingers. She can see it when she glances down, glowing in the dark, prodding at her until the eerie light all but disappears as her body swallows it up and the sensation of being filled consumes her.
A raw whine escapes her throat and she feels it, cold and odd. The noises are obscene, alien, even, and she realizes he’s using that strange silicone thing to deposit the eggs in her. The slight friction moving against her inner walls is enough to make her thighs quiver and when he slowly pulls the thing back and forth, the friction makes her squawk, a most undignified sound that drags another low, satisfied chuckle out of him.
“You like this. So wet and–” Fuck she’s about to start begging for his cock if he doesn’t hurry. “–juicy.”
The way he says it, so smug, so knowing, his borderline taunting overridden by her knowledge that if he doesn’t hurry, she’s going to lose it, this delightful momentum, the surging need for more.
“Please,” she sobs, trying to hook his hips with her ankles and draw him closer. Her eyesight adjusts to the dim and he’s a huge shadow, indistinct and hulking just at the edges of her vision.
The silicone is removed and replaced with something larger, hotter, and she lifts into it eagerly. His hands seem to feel their way in the dark, one resting possessively on her belly and the other tickling at her nether lips, dragging the head of his erection over her until every muscle in her body is tense and waiting, ready.
“Please!” she cries again. Her nipples are hard as little pebbles and a slippery wetness is leaking out of her and his heat, thick and hard is sliding inside, slow and inevitable.
A low groan is ripped out of him as he plunges all the way in, sealing them together with a heavy “Fuck!” and a wet slap of his pelvis against hers.
Suddenly, she’s full to bursting, surrounded by him, heavy muscle pressing her into the sheets, hands twice the size of hers threading his fingers with her own, hot, steamy breath on her neck as she clenches down on every stroke, fighting to keep him buried inside her, so fucking full.
Fuck, it’s delicious.
They’re making a terrible, wonderful mess. Everything is sopping wet and it sounds utterly indecent, the wet, heavy slurp of them moving together, his increasingly horny groans, the pulsing flex of her body squeezing him until he starts to seize up and he chokes out, “Fuck, I’m gonna…mmmph…breed this pussy…yes, I am…”
She imagines those eggs rolling inside her, displaced by the deliberate pounding of his dick, about to be covered in his milky-white sperm, and a heated squeal is wrenched out of her chest when he grabs her by the throat and mutters, “Cum for me.”
On his order, she flexes and squeezes as he strokes hard and sure. “Wring it all out of me with your filthy little cunt, baby.”
It’s weird and gross and somehow exactly what she wants to do. She bucks against him, a savage, raspy growl climbing up out of her throat until every piece of her exists only to squeeze every drop of him out, just like he told her to. He snarls, long and low, hips canting unevenly as wildfire snaps along her nerve endings and that hot, nasty bliss coalesces between her legs, radiating down her thighs and into her arms and everywhere at once.
Shuddering and gripping her hard as he slams home over and over again, his mouth crashes onto hers and he grunts and seizes against her for a few long, delicious minutes.
He’s sweaty and dripping by the time he pulls out and a disgusting flood of wetness follows, drenching the sheets under her butt and lower back and thighs and making her squeak as he shuffles them away from the wet spot. She can only lay there limp as a rag while he hovers and shivers against her and kisses the side of her neck.
But eventually, they have to move, and Rey rolls to the side, combing her fingers through his hair, reluctant to let him up just yet.
“I should have brought you that cake the day I moved in. Saved us both some time.”
He snorts, chest shaking with laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m gonna have to get another rooster.”
“Or,” she suggests, pulling him close for another lingering kiss, “You could get an alarm clock and we could maybe do this again, instead. The only cock I wanna wake up to is yours.”
“Deal.”