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Summary
It wasn’t like Ben Solo was hard to look at, scowl or not. He was, in Rey’s opinion, quite possibly one of the most beautiful men she’d ever laid eyes on. Built like the broad side of a barn, he was all sculpted muscles that strained at the buttons of his perfectly pressed Burberry suits. She’d been blessed more than a few times with a view of those poor buttons working overtime as he’d marched up to her desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, to hand her a stack of paperwork to be filed. His hair was a halo of gorgeous ebony waves that always seemed to look perfect no matter how many times a day he ran his hands through them pushing the shaggy locks off his face as he worked. She’d daydreamed more than a few times about running her fingers through those likely silken tresses and what sounds he might make if she tugged on them in a moment of passion. And his mouth. He had the most perfectly kissable lips that hid adorably crooked teeth. He would constantly do this…thing with his mouth when he was particularly focused; pursing his lips before worrying his lower lip under his teeth. Every time he did it Rey just wanted to kiss the poor abused flesh.