Archive of Our Own ^beta

There are loads of things Rey loves about Christmastime. The plethora of holiday-themed romantic comedies available on Netflix. The seasonal coffees topped with whipped cream at her local 7 Brew. The way everything is draped in lights and garland, smelling of sugar and spruce.

The cold, however, isn’t something Rey holds any affinity for.

Raised in a veritable desert, attending uni in sunny California, and now, playing professional footy in even-sunnier-Florida, Rey’s grown accustomed to the heat. Why anyone would want to shiver in the snow when they could kick back in the sunshine is something Rey will never understand.

And yet, somehow, all of her closest friends have requested to fill her Christmas off-season in places where she’s forced to pack a winter coat.

First up is her former Olympic teammate Kaydel, who hung up her cleats to work in PR in New York City.

The itinerary for their weekend together includes things like walking around in the cold to see a tree being lit and attending a hockey game. Rey had thought that being indoors would at the very least mean she wasn’t shivering, and yet…

“It’s so fucking cold in here—why is it cold ?!”

Kaydel laughs around the straw of her Diet Coke. “Probably because of the ice, Rey.”

Rey’s teeth chatter. Hockey had, on paper, sounded fun. Sort of like footy, except they sometimes get to punch one another in the face. Plus, there was the promise of stadium hot dogs and soft pretzels dipped in warm, melted cheese.

Instead, Rey shoves her chilly hands between her thighs and groans. “I wanted stadium snacks, but I think my hands are gonna fall off first.”

Kaydel snorts. “Were you always this dramatic? I don’t remember you being this dramatic.”

“When we played in Paris, it wasn’t below freezing.”

“The game starts in five. So if you’re gonna get that hot dog you’ve been talking about all day…”

Rey nods and gets to her feet. Outside the rink, it’s a normal temperature. She exhales, relieved her breath isn’t punctuated by a cloud of steam, and makes her way to the concession stand when she spies a booth bursting with New York Rangers merch.

There are scarves and gloves—Rey could cry. She grabs a red-and-blue scarf draped across a table and a pair of gloves, handing them to the smiling woman behind the register.

“Oh! He’s my favorite, too.” The woman winks.

“Who?”

“Ben Solo.” The woman taps the back of Rey’s new gloves, and Rey blinks down at the stitching. A giant letter 8 stares up at her just below four big, block letters—SOLO.

“Oh.” Rey slips the gloves over her icy fingers. She hasn’t a clue who Ben Solo is, but she’s thankful he’s going to keep her warm. “Yep. I've suddenly become a fan.”

The woman laughs, and later, as Rey dunks a pretzel into a vat of cheese that might not contain any traces of actual dairy, she nods along to Kaydel’s latest work drama and sees Ben Solo for the first time.

He’s… Rey tilts her head at the imposing figure on the ice. Dark hair curls beneath the back of his helmet. The gloves that grip his stick seem comically oversized. The jersey stretching across his shoulders sports the same name and number as Rey’s new gloves.

“He’s big,” she says out loud, and Kaydel laughs.

“Oh yeah. He’s a huge deal around here.”

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️

The next stop on Rey’s Tour of All the Fucking Cold Places is Rose Tico-Hux’s chalet in Aspen.

On paper, it looks to be the perfect winter backdrop to Rey’s fantasy Christmas offseason. Everything is picturesque and oozing holiday cheer as she stares out the car’s window. The street lights are wrapped in red bows, and a thick layer of powdery white snow clings to every visible surface.

In actuality, it’s less charming and just fucking freezing.

Rey shivers as she rates her Uber driver and drags her suitcase up the steps to Rose’s winter home.

“Rey!” Rose greets, throwing her arms around her former college roommate and squeezing her like she hadn’t just been in Florida for a game a couple months ago. Rey laughs as she hugs her friend back. Rose’s sweater is fuzzy, and the hair from her high bun tickles Rey’s nose.

The cold, Rey decides, is worth it.

Rose yanks her inside, and Rey toes out of her boots. She tries not to gape as she looks around  the large, wooden home with its high ceilings and fat beams. A flocked tree sits in the corner of the living room, facing a modern kitchen where Armitage Hux—Rey’s sports agent and Rose’s husband—stands chopping olives and layering them painstakingly on a wooden board.

Rey pops a square of cheese into her mouth. “Good to see you, Armie.”

“Remember, even though you’re just steps away from the slope, no skiing,” he says in lieu of an actual greeting.

The refrigerator door shuts, and Rey finds herself face-to-face with a different refrigerator all together.

In Rose’s kitchen, unscrewing the cap off a bottle of water, stands Ben Solo, Rangers defenceman.

Rey isn’t sure how it’s possible, but he’s even bigger up close.

Ben exhales, and Rey watches the way his chest moves beneath the fabric of his black Henley. “It's actually a relief to find out Hux is a hardass on everyone and I’m not actually that special.”

Hux’s knife stops just millimeters into the skin of an olive. “Nobody’s special. None of my athletes are contractually able to ski. It’s far too high-risk an activity for injury.”

Rose pops the cork off a bottle of red wine and Rey’s never been so glad to see alcohol before in her existence. She doesn’t really drink. In college, Rey didn’t have money or free time to go to bars. And as a professional athlete, she finds she performs better when she refrains from drinking.

But it’s the off-season. And Ben Solo is under the same roof. And she suddenly can’t think of a reason not to.

“You’re not missing out,” Rose says, pouring three generous glasses of wine. “The skiing bit is fine, but the real fun’s in the après ski.”

“What?” Rey asks, taking a tentative sip of wine the second Rose hands it over. She notices Armie and Rose take the other two glasses, leaving Ben Solo with the bottle of water he’s pilfered from the fridge.

“ Après ski. You know… all the bits of skiing outside the actual skiing—drinking and hot tubbing and snacking on chocolate-stuffed dates and charcuterie.” Rose motions to the board on the kitchen’s island and Rey snags salami that someone’s taken the effort to fold into the shape of a rose.

Rey’s never been skiing, never been around people who winter in Aspen. She doesn’t remember much from before waiting in a Vegas motel parking lot for her parents who never came back, but she knows the ache of hunger and the pang of loneliness. It’s why spending the weekend before Christmas with Rose had been an opportunity she’d jumped at—being around skiing without being able to ski was far more appealing than sitting in her condo alone.

Rey polishes off her salami-rose with another gulp of wine, and the four of them stand around the board. Armie brings up a basketball player he represents who just posted a photo of him on a snowmobile, and Rose sighs and changes the subject.

“Let’s not talk about work. We all have jobs, but we’re on vacation.” Rose looks pointedly at her husband.

Rey clears her throat. “I didn’t know it was hockey off season?” Because she knows, for a fact, it isn’t.

“I have five days off between games. I own a house nearby.”

“Oh.” Rey blinks. “You own a chalet on the side of a mountain and you aren’t allowed to ski?”

Ben rubs the tip of his nose, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his features. “What can I say—I’m a masochist.”

“There’re lots of great things to do in Aspen besides skiing, Rey. Ice skating and snowshoeing, plus all the bars and restaurants,” Rose adds, and Rey wonders briefly if Ben Solo lives near Armitage for the same reason she’s here—to not be completely alone.

It’s cold and awful and he can’t ski, so she isn’t sure why else he’d call a place like this home.

They play cards and drink wine and go to bed far past Rey’s normal bedtime. No one seems surprised when Ben crashes in one of the guest bedrooms for the night, even though he supposedly lives close by.

The following morning, Rose takes Rey on her favorite hiking trail just outside town.

“It’s beautiful here,” Rey says, teeth chattering as she yanks her cheap earwarmers down another cintermiter in hopes it’ll keep her warm. It does nothing to help, and she groans. “I just don’t understand why you’d want to live somewhere so fucking cold all the time.”

Rose laughs. “I love it here. And besides, it isn’t like this year round. We have seasons.”

Rose and Hux also have houses, plural.

Rey’s not quite used to the concept of having money. Her salary playing footy in the states always kept a roof over her head and food in her fridge. It was great, actually. Perfect. And then she got a manager and endorsements. The paycheck to make a series of toothpaste commercials where she dribbled a soccer ball and smiled a lot was more than she could deal with, and the volunteer work she did with the local girl’s “soccer” club kept her busy enough.

The holidays were difficult, sure, but that’s why she crowded her calendar with Kaydel and Rose and Finn. She was less lonely when she wasn’t alone.

“You look adorable in a puffy jacket,” Rey says, surveying Rose’s outfit. Rose snorts as they make it to the clearing back toward town. It’s a short distance up one hill, and the path’s been cleared of snow. Rey almost misses the crunch of packed snow beneath her winter boots.

Almost.

She inhales the piney forest air. It is gorgeous—but it’s also fucking freezing.

Town is bustling with couples in trendy ski gear and families cradling paper cups of fancy cocoa. 

Once they make it to the rows of chatlet’s and their sloping, pine porches, Rey spies two men approaching. Hux’s shock of red hair is covered by a knit cap, but he’s nearly as pale as the snow on the ground. The large man at his side looks even larger in his puffer jacket, and Rey curses beneath her breath, furtively tugging off her “Ben Solo #8” gloves and shoving them in the pocket of her coat.

Armie greets his wife with a kiss to her rosy cheek. “Missed you. Solo can’t go skiing, so he’s been boring me all morning.”

Rose smiles. “We can make a run this afternoon.”

Ben frowns at Rey’s rapidly reddening hands. “You don’t have gloves?”

“No, I— I do.” She grins and he blinks like she’s an idiot.

Which… Maybe she is.

But he’s just a man. She’s never given this much thought to a man before.

It’s just… His mouth keeps doing this thing while they chat. One corner flexes when he smiles, and deep grooves press into his cheeks. Rey’s probably been studying his face too intently to notice, but he has a nice smile.

And hands.

The way he keeps reaching up to card long fingers through his inky hair draws her gaze. It’s frustrating, actually, just how attractive she finds him.

His voice is deep when he speaks, almost quiet for his big frame, and his eyes—

Are looking straight at her.

“What?” she snaps.

“I used to love coming here, when I could ski.”

She shrugs. “I guess that’s the advantage in not being able to miss something I’ve never had.”

“You’d probably love skiing.”

“I don’t know. It sounds cold.”

He walks and she keeps pace beside him while Rose and Hux head inside. Rey’s known for being quick on her feet, but it takes nearly two strides to keep up with him.

“My teammate just bought a motorcycle he isn’t allowed to ride.”

Rey laughs. She’d bet her bronze medal Ben Solo has a bunch of snowboarding equipment stashed somewhere back at his place he can’t use.

Before she can commiserate about all the things they can’t do, she notices a green building wedged on the side of the mountain. Powdery snow piles on its red roof. Skis are shoved in the snow around the building.

Ben stops walking, and she stands at his side. His head helps to block some of the blinding sunlight, but despite the cold, it’s everywhere. Shining in the clear sky. Bouncing across the white snow.

“Do you want some cocoa?”

Rey nods, just once, and Ben leads her inside, letting the host know he’d like a table for two.

They’re seated in a booth near the window, and Rey orders a hot cocoa and watches the skiers zip down the mountain just outside.

“I have a confession to make,” Ben says as their hot cocoas are set on the table. He reaches for his, hands cradling the mug, but doesn’t move to take a sip. “I recognize you from those toothpaste commercials.”

Rey warms her hands on her own mug, not saying anything.

“It’s a memorable mouth. Big and… smiley,” he admits, and Rey bites her lips together. With a sigh, he taps one of his fingers against the side of his mug. “Nobody’ll ever ask me to do a toothpaste ad—not with my hockey teeth.”

“You have a nice smile.”

He lifts a brow, one corner of his mouth crooking upward, and Rey rolls her eyes before taking a tentative sip. It’s rich and sweet and hot enough to burn her tongue if she isn’t careful.

It’s perfect.

And it’s sort of nice, hanging out with someone who also doesn’t drink.

For a moment, it feels like they’re in their own little bubble. Rich cocoa and warm air, snow drifting lazily outside and sticking to the window. Like a snow globe.

But the moment of peace bursts. A couple at a nearby table notices them, the woman leaping to her feet and tugging at her companion’s arm.

“Ohmygosh–Ben Solo ! You’re our favorite player!” she says, coming to stand beside their table. She’s flushed, her husband a bit slack jawed. “Wow. Holy crap baskets. You’re bigger in person.”

Rey admires Ben’s patient nod. She notices his smile is kind, but it doesn't crinkle his eyes. It isn’t the smile she’s grown used to in their short hours together.

He signs the man’s Rangers cap and nods along as the woman recounts a fight he’d gotten into earlier this season.

Rey stares at where his bare knuckles are curled around his mug. When the couple leaves, he sighs and Rey grins.

“Winter activities are the worst. No offense.”

He snorts. “None taken.”

“Hockey is just so… it’s cold in the building.”

“You should come to a game sometime,” Ben says, and she hums, lips pushed into the rim of her mug. “Where do you play soccer?”

“I play football in Florida.”

He opens his mouth, but they’re interrupted by an attractive woman in a sunny yellow ski coat.

Ben looks slightly put off, but his expression changes when the woman claps her hands and looks directly at Rey.

“You’re my daughter’s idol. She’s going to flip that she’s skiing and said she didn’t want to get cocoa with me! We watched you play in Paris—you’re amazing!”

Rey stands and takes a selfie with the woman. She signs a napkin and flushes as the woman peppers praise. Not so much because she doesn’t enjoy hearing it from time to time, but Ben is leaning back in his chair, grinning at her.

“We need more role models like you,” the woman says, winking. When she’s out of earshot, Ben tilts his head. Strands of dark hair fall over his ear.

Until now, Rey hadn’t noticed his ears. She smiles, fighting the sudden and terrifying urge to reach out and trace the shape of them. Maybe tease him a bit.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, voice quiet.

“Yeah.”

Outside, the air is blistering and Rey groans as she zips up her coat.

Ben’s gloved hands cover her bare fingers, and she stills.

“Let’s go into town. I’ll buy you some gloves.”

“I…” Rey glances up at him through her lashes, sighing as she digs into her coat’s deep pocket. “I do have a pair.” She tugs them on and holds her now-gloved hands in front of her like she’s attempting to placate a wounded animal. “I promise I’m not a stalker.”

Ben stares at her gloves for a moment, confusion etched across his brow. Then, a slow grin encompasses his features. “Are you sure? This seems pretty stalker-ish.”

Rey laughs. “I attended your game against Dallas last week with a friend, and it was so fucking cold in Madison Square Garden. Do you know they keep it, like, sub-zero in there? I had to buy these at the giftshop so my hands didn’t fall off.”

“I like it. It’s a bit like you’re wearing my jersey.”

“You wish.”

“I do.”

The smile lines frame both sides of his mouth. Rey’s hands fist against her chest, her heart thudding beneath her coat.

“When I saw you after my hike, I knew I’d never leave these fucking things down.”

“So you went gloveless.”

“It was worth the pain.”

“Yeah.” He grins, eyes crinkling and smile lines flashing. “But now your secret’s out.”

The trek back to the chalet is quiet, and Rey thinks maybe she can see the appeal of having a place out here—of spending the holidays in a town that feels like the setting of one of the horrible, amazing Christmas movies she likes watching from the 52” TV she mounted in her flat—the first nail she’d ever put in a wall, the sort of permanence she’d dreamed of but never let herself taste.

And here she was, already thinking about the possibility of being happy somewhere else.

Ben gets the front door for her, and inside Rey finds Rose and Armie setting out pots of warmed chocolate and cheese.

“This is amazing. Melted cheese is my favorite food group,” Rey says, and Rose delights Ben with a tale of an all-you-can-eat fondue restaurant they went to in college.

“We thought we were going to have to roll her out.”

Rey glares at her friend and Ben laughs.

“Ben, did you know Rey doesn’t know how to ice skate,” Rose says conversationally, dunking a strawberry into the vat of melted chocolate before popping it into her mouth.

Ben’s looking straight at Rey. Rey is busy glaring at Rose.

Rose chews slowly. “Maybe you could teach her while you’re both here.”

“No, no. The professional hockey player is not going to teach me how to skate.”

Ben grins. “Bring your gloves. It’s cold on the ice.”

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️

“This seems just as dangerous as skiing. Ice skating should be against my contract,” she grumbles.

“And yet it’s not.”

“I could get hurt.”

“I won’t let you. I promise.” Ben says from between her legs. She'd blush, if she weren’t so terrified. “But maybe… let’s not tell Hux if you do?”

She huffs a surprise laugh. “Such confidence in my abilities.”

He laces up her right ice skate, giving a few tugs until it’s tight enough for his standards. She stares down at the scuffed rentals before glancing at Ben’s gleaming thousand-dollar skates.

“How’d you get into hockey,” she asks as he ties the laces into a neat, loopy bow.

“My parents shipped me off to Canada to live with my uncle when I was in fourth grade.” He reaches for her left skate and Rey extends it in his direction. His hand cradles her legging-clad calf, giving her muscle a gentle squeeze. Rey tries to relax, she does, but it’s difficult with Ben Solo between her legs, lacing up the skates that are sure to lead her directly to her death.

“Did you like Canada?”

“Did I like living with my uncle?” He does the thing again—like the one-sided smile, but this time a frown. Just the flex of one side of his mouth. Rey’s gaze traces the shape of his lips. “No. Did I like playing hockey? Fuck yes.”

She smiles at that. “My dad gave me my first football. I can’t— I can’t remember his face or accent or if he cooked or any of that shit, but I remember he cheered for Birmingham. And when they left me, in my bag I had a pair of pajamas, a change of clothes, and a football.” 

His hand lingers on her calf.

“Okay.” Rey shakes her leg out of his grip. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ben holds her hand as she wobbles on the skates like a baby giraffe. He shows her how to take small, shaky steps on the rubber mat and she doesn’t even fall over.

“Ready?” Ben asks.

Rey nods, and with a confidence she doesn’t quite feel, responds, “Ready.”

“We’ll start slow,” he assures, and Rey snorts. He doesn’t let go of her hand.

How Ben secured an entire rink to themselves, Rey isn’t sure. Connections, probably. Money, definitely. But she’s thankful there’s no one to witness her first steps on the ice.

She walks with wooden movements, and when Ben squeezes her gloved hands—his number staring back at both them—he turns to skate backwards just a few paces in front of her.

“Feet apart a bit more—good. Keep your hips centered.”

Rey tries to keep her hips centered. She also tries not to topple backwards. Or forward. Or any-wards. Her legs feel shaky as she takes another series of tentative steps.

She’s less skating and more… hobbling helplessly on the ice.

Ben grins at her. “Perfect.”

He comes to her side, helping better position her hips. Rey wonders why anyone would do this when they could just run on solid ground. It’s far easier. And warmer. And way more fun…

Skating backwards like the cocksure asshat he is, Ben instructs how to glide forward. Rey tries to alternate between moving one leg than the other, trying to get used to the clunky skates and the thin blades.

When she wobbles, he slows. When he encourages her to bend her knees slightly, she listens. When she sort-of kind-of skates, Rey squeals.

“That worked! Ben, I’m skating!”

He chuckles. “Definitely.”

When she shifts her weight, she loses her balance, but Ben is there—one hand at her waist. The other gently cradling her elbow.

“Careful.”

She grins. “Nope. I’m basically a pro.”

“Definitely. Ready to upgrade you from soccer to hockey in no time.”

“Football.”

He hums. “Sure.”

He shows her a simple swizzle, and she laughs as her knees wobble precariously and her ankles bend together of their own accord. Ben skates a few more feet in front of her and turns in a graceful circle.

“Show off,” she huffs.

“See if you can glide to me.”

Rey wants to stomp her foot. Instead, she exhales and braces herself. It doesn’t feel natural, but it’s definitely less shaky than before.

She skates toward him and he skates backward. “Good girl,” he praises, and she rolls her eyes at him.

She doesn’t fall. He doesn’t let her. And when she makes her final lap, he spreads his arms wide and she skates directly into his chest.

He smells good. Laundry detergent and clean, woodsy deodorant. Rey smiles into his sweatshirt and leans back to look up at him.

“Well? Praise me some more.”

One corner of his lips flex to what’s quickly becoming her very favorite smile. “You’re a natural.”

“Right.” She beams.

After, they remove their skates side-by-side on the bench and Ben returns her rentals. They grab paper cups of coffee in the rink’s food court. A few young boys in hockey gear stare open-mouthed at Ben, and Rey feels solidarity in their awe as she dumps sugar packets into her cup.

“Will you be in New York anytime soon?” he asks, attention on the surface of his coffee.

“I’m not sure. Kaydel—my friend in the city—would love if I visited again.”

“You should come to another game.” He looks at her, face so earnest her heart squeezes in her chest. “I can get you tickets.”

Rey bites her lip. “When do you have to go back?”

“I have to be in Ottawa tomorrow night. Then New York for one more game before the new year.”

“Oh.”

He sighs, and they sip their coffees until one of the older boys works up the nerve to ask Ben to sign his stick. Another boy asks for advice on his shot blocking and Rey watches him chat, unable to stop the smile blooming across her features.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️

Rey lays in bed, cellphone blaring white noise because the silence was too much. Only, the noise isn’t helping. She stares at the wood grain on the ceiling, but sleep won’t come. Her thoughts are racing—silly, ridiculous daydreams of Ben Solo inviting her to see him play again at Madison Square Garden. Ben Solo bending her over the counter at the Aspen Hockey League’s snack counter.

Shaking her head, Rey leaps to her feet. Her socks slip on the floorboards and she tugs them off and decides to make tea—surely Rose has some camomile or sleepytime blend in this giant house. Padding quietly down the stairs, she tries her best not to wake Rose or Armie or Ben, who despite supposedly having a place of his own nearby, has once again stayed the night.

Only, Ben’s standing in the kitchen—his bare back to her. Grey sweatpants low on his hips.

Rey freezes, momentarily stunned at the sight of all his bare, pale skin, and when her throat clicks helplessly, Ben turns.

“Oh, shit. Did I wake you?”

“No.” She shakes her head, stepping into the kitchen and reaching onto her toes to snag one of Rose’s snowflake mugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same.” He motions to the electric kettle that’s just beginning to boil. His own snowflake mug is cradled in his hands, and once again Rey finds herself contemplating the size of Ben’s fingers.

Rey’s had sex before. Relationship sex. Casual sex. But she’s never felt attraction like this before. This clawing need to press her skin against Ben Solo.

Maybe it’s because he’s so large. And hot. Fuck she’s done pretending like he isn’t gorgeous.

She steps closer and his eyes widen a fraction.

“Where’s your shirt?” she asks, voice low.

“Where’s yours?”

Rey glances down. Her cropped pajama top barely reaches the waistband of her cotton sleep shorts. She shrugs. “I live in Florida. Not a lot of need for flannel pajamas.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he says, and she grins up at him.

“Hey, Ben?”

“Hmm,” he hums, maybe in thought, maybe in question. One of his hands reaches to her waist, his thumb seeking the inch of bare skin. His forehead lowers toward hers.

“Are you ever gonna kiss me?”

There’s no hesitancy, no pause. His mouth is against hers, tongue seeking out the seam of her lips. His hands frame her face, tilting her head back—moving her better to suit his wants, moulding her the way he needs.

Rey reaches out, hands skimming his bare chest. His skin is warm, and there’s a little thrill of pleasure Rey feels as each muscle she touches flexes beneath her palms. As she maps the moles she finds like his skin is a secret, special thing.

She kisses him back, pressing herself fully against him. He’s hard beneath his sweats.

“Fuck, Rey,” he pants, hands on her ass, slipping up, up her back until her center’s flush against him and she has to stretch to her toes. “Couldn’t wait to get my hands on you… You’re a dream.”

She kisses the curve of his jaw, smiling against his stubble. “Hey, Ben. Maybe we could do this not in Rose’s kitchen?”

His hands still on her back and he sighs against her temple.

The electric tea kettle switches off, but Rey ignores it as she follows Ben to his room. She’s found something more appealing than tea, and the second the door is closed, Ben has her pressed against it.

He kisses her, desperate and quick, hands palming her backside, squeezing her cheeks together before pulling them apart.

Rey grins. Ben Solo is definitely an ass man…

He kneels down, tugging her sleep shorts and underwear down to her knees.

“So pretty, Rey,” he tells her, skimming his palms up the back of her thighs and burying his face against her center.

His nose grazes her clit and she gasps. His tongue parts her labia, head shaking back-and-forth as his tongue traces the shape of her. Tasting, teasing…

One of Rey’s hands grasps his hair. The other presses against the door. Her eyes drift closed, but she fights against the sensation, wanting to watch every moment of Ben Solo’s bare shoulders between her thighs. She wants to watch the way his arms flex as he holds her open. The way he looks up at her.

The way his tongue flicks against her clit once, twice, a third time before he grins and starts to suck.

“Fuck— Ben—” she pants, and he gives her a center a long lick.

“Quiet, Rey. Do you want everyone to hear you?”

She shakes her head, but she’s sort of beyond caring. Her back presses harder against the door. Her legs start to shake.

“Ben,” she whines.

“What is it, Rey?” he asks. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“Your fingers,” she tells him, and he grins, teeth nipping gently at the skin below her navel.

One of his knuckles glides across her slippery center—the barest pressure at her entrance making her whine.

“I knew it,” he says, one of his fingers pressing inside, working to stretch her before adding a second. His fingers curl inward as his tongue draws wide circles around her clit, and Rey’s hands scramble for something to hold onto.

She doesn’t have a chance to be surprised at how quickly her orgasm builds—she’s just there, suspended on the cusp of it. Ben’s fingers inside her, his free hand squeezing her backside, his tongue lapping at her clit with enthusiasm. Like he’s starved for this—for her.

She comes, skin humming and tight, and Ben’s fingers fuck her through it.

“You’re gripping me so tight, Rey. Gonna feel so perfect around my cock.”

She nods helplessly, reaching for his shoulders and tugging him to her mouth.

He kisses her, slower this time, his hands sliding beneath her shirt to cup her breasts. Rey grins against his kisses and helps tug her shirt over her head. She tosses it somewhere behind her, uncaring of where.

“I have an IUD. My results are on my phone, but it’s… somewhere.”

Ben nods and steps back, squeezing his cock over his grey sweatpants. “I’m clean, too. The league tests us, but— Didn’t think to bring a condom to Hux’s place...”

She glances at his tented pants. “Okay,” she says, like they’re agreeing to something unsaid.

“You’re a dream, Rey,” he says, just staring at her. Touching himself. Tongue tracing the seam of his mouth.

Rey sits on the edge of the bed, scooting back as he folds himself over her. She loops her arms around his neck and sighs as he kisses her jaw. Her throat. Her left breast, then right.

She helps tug his pants down until he’s bare, and as she rubs her palm over his cock, she’s suddenly face-to-face with something she’s suspected all along.

“You’re so big, Ben.”

“You can take it.” He kisses her cheek and notches himself at her entrance. While Ben watches himself disappear in her center, Rey watches his face. The way his jaw softens. The look in his eyes.

Rey’s jaw locks tight at the slick slide of him pushing inside, spreading her open. He isn’t all the way in, and she’s already so stuffed with him.

His attention moves to her face, and Rey nods. With a groan, he begins to move in earnest.

“You’re taking me so well, Rey. Knew the second I saw you, you’d feel like this…”

The fullness of him sliding against her insides makes her moan, and while her first orgasm had shocked her, her second builds slowly. Ben grips her hips desperately, hands pulling at her thighs. Murmuring praises against the corner of her mouth while she runs her hand over his brow because she can.

He kisses her, long and slow, fucking her until h er walls flutter and her breath catches. Rey’s thigh jumps under his hands, and Ben buries his face in her neck when comes.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️

She tries on a pair of earmuffs. They’re a plush fleece, and Rey grins.

“Do I look ridiculous?”

“No.” Ben smiles. “You look adorable.”

“Hm, I probably need better gloves, too…”

He frowns and she laughs, and Rey pauses before a display of bikinis.

“Who needs a swimsuit in Aspen?!”

“You haven’t partaken in one of the pinnacle après ski activities, Johnson.”

“Oh?” she asks, tearing her gaze away from the black bikini to blink up at Ben.

“Hot tubbing.”

“Rose doesn’t have a hot tub.”

He shrugs. “No. But I do.”

She purchases the swimsuit and earmuffs. The bikini keeps in the bag, but she wears the earmuffs out of the store.

Ben grins as she follows him to a restaurant nearby where they’ve been instructed to meet their friends. Rose’s face is flushed from skiing and Hux tells Rey that her earmuffs are ridiculous.

“I’m told they make me look adorable.”

Hux makes a face, and they settle into a booth where they eat raclette and French dips, spending the late afternoon people-watching and talking about the holidays. Hux and Rose are going to Rose’s parents in a few days, but first, they want to get in as much skiing as possible.

“But not this afternoon. I want to hang out with Rey.”

Ben’s hand traces her knee beneath the table.

“You can ski,” Rey says. “I’m free all day tomorrow. Ben has plans for me after this.” 

When their dinner is devoured and Rose is clicking back into her skis, Ben orders an Uber. It isn’t far, he tells her, but even with the new winter gear, Rey is shivering outside the restaurant.

The car delivers them to a different chalet. It’s smaller than Rose’s, but the impressive, sloping porch gives Rey pause.

“Your chalet is nice.”

Ben’s hands disappear into his coat pocket. “Thanks.”

Rey grins and follows him inside, not shy about marveling at his place. It’s less lived in that Rose’s, which doesn’t come as much surprise, seeing as to how Ben’s been spending most of his time with Hux.

Or, well… her.

Holding up her bag, Rey asks, “Should I put this on?”

Ben nods, and she changes into the bikini, using the bathroom mirror to make sure the straps at her hips align just-so.

Ben’s waiting for her outside, his bare chest visible from where he sits reclined in the hot tub. Rey had planned a slow, enticing entrance into the hot water, but it’s freezing outside, so she nearly leaps into the tub and sinks down to her chin.

Ben grins as she swims over to him.

“I wanted that to be sexier.”

“Never seen anything sexier in my life.”

She laughs, and when she straddles him and locks her arms behind his neck, Ben sighs.

His palms skate up her thighs. Her hips. They squeeze her backside before squeezing her waist. When he kisses her, it’s slow and lazy, like they have all day.

Rey rocks her center against him, feeling him hard beneath her.

“I don’t want you to leave tonight,” she confesses against his mouth. He leans back, eyes locking with hers as his hands untie the back of her bikini. Rey wonders why she’d bothered purchasing it at all.

“I don’t want to leave.” Her tits are out, but his attention doesn’t stray from her face. “For the first time in my life, I found something I’d rather do than play hockey.” 

Ben’s fingertips press into the bare skin at her hip, and Rey believes him.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️

On the final leg of Rey’s Christmas Tour of Cold , Rey joins her best friend Finn and his boyfriend—who she has begun tolerating—in Canada.

On the bench beside her, Finn shivers. “Why are we doing this again?”

Rey presses closer to her friend. “Because Poe is a pilot who has to work, and you wanted to spend Christmas in Ottawa with him.”

Poe approaches and hands over a hot drink to Finn and a second cup to Rey. She takes it, thanking him, and inhales the hot steam seeping from the lid. It smells like apple cider and she smiles, pleased.

“And I didn’t have anything better to do, so I’m tagging along,” she finishes.

“Yeah, but I thought when you said you were gonna join us we’d… y’know, spend Christmas day not shivering at an outdoor hockey stadium.” Finn looks around, his eyes wide.

Rey shrugs. She hadn’t actually expected the pair to join when she mentioned the Rangers had an outdoor game in Ottawa on Christmas day. Poe mentioned loving hockey and wanting to join, and Hux had gotten her three tickets with little fuss.

Rey could fuss a little... It’s colder than the indoor rink in New York. Colder than Aspen.

The things she’ll subject herself to for one giant, hot hockey player.

“I didn’t even know you liked hockey.” Finn takes a sip from his own cup, Poe grinning as he takes his seat on the other side of him. “I know you hate the cold.”

“I’m getting used to it,” Rey lies. She’s wearing her new earmuffs and a new white Helly Hensen coat Rose said made her look glowing and tan. She’s also wearing her Ben Solo gloves and Rangers scarf.

Finn snorts and cuddles with his boyfriend. They discuss where they want to eat after the game, and while food is one of Rey’s favorite topics of conversion, today all of her focus is on the game.

On Ben, who charges forward aggressively. Who skates backwards gracefully.

She likes watching him play. Like watching the skilled way he weaves through his opponents on the ice. The way he clears the puck. The way he adjusts his stick in his giant hands.

The way he removes his helmet to greedily chug from his water bottle.

When the game ends and the crowd starts to disperse, Rey reaches for her phone. She has to remove one of her gloves to type, but she fires off two words to Ben’s number:

Nice game

She waits a moment and then snaps and sends a selfie. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and the outdoor rink is visible just behind her head.

He calls immediately.

“You’re here? You’re in Ottawa? You’re at my game?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing press?” she laughs, following Poe and Finn down the steps.

“Come to gate 10.”

She does, Poe and Finn following while she explains she’s meeting up with a friend. When Ben appears a few moments later, he’s freshly showered, hair still damp and shoved under a Rangers cap. How he’s not shivering, Rey hasn’t a clue. It’s freezing outside.

“Hey,” she greets with a smile. “I was thinking, maybe cold weather wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And hockey might not be so bad, either. I think I’m a fan, actually.”

He stares at her—her coat and scarf and gloves. He shakes his head. “I told you to call me if you needed tickets.”

“I asked Hux.”

Ben smiles at her, his hands finding her waist. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I was going to be in Ottawa anyway. And like I said, I’m getting used to the cold.” She rests her hands on his chest. He grabs her palm, thumb tracing the stitching that spells out his last name.

“But being indoors would be nice.”

“I have a hotel room…”

She laughs.

“Spend Christmas with me,” he whispers, and Rey nods, just once, before turning toward her friends. Poe and Finn whip their heads in different directions, and she rolls her eyes.

“Dinner with my friends first?”

“You’re in luck. I know a place nearby that serves your favorite food group—melted cheese,” Ben says. He kisses her cheek, then her nose.

“I’m freezing,” she replies, and he places a kiss against her mouth.

“You feel perfect to me.”