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Fucking Ben Solo

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Hux would rather be anywhere else but here.

He sips from a red plastic cup, cursing Dopheld once again for buying cheap, domestic beer. It’s the last party before they all go off to college—would it have killed him to spring for a keg of Sam Adams?

The music's too loud, pounding against his skull with its incessant beat. The house is far too crowded, teeming with fellow students he’ll be happy to never see again. If it weren’t for Phasma, he would have never dreamed of partaking in this crude social event. She begged and pleaded, basically dragged him out of the house, and now she’s gone and abandoned him. He sneers in her direction but she’s too busy flirting with that sophomore Rey to pay him any attention.

Someone bumps into him from behind and he flinches as half his beer spills onto the floor and lands on his shoes. He snarls over his shoulder, baring his teeth in anger to find a tall shadow looming over him.

Ben fucking Solo. As if this night couldn’t get any worse.

“Do you mind?” Ben asks in that surly, deep voice of his.

“Excuse me?” Hux retorts coldly.

Ben’s eyes narrow, a dark curtain of hair falling in front of his face. “You’re in my way.”

“You—but—How dare you!?” Hux sputters inelegantly, his face turning red. Hux has been on edge since he walked through the door to his god-awful party. Ben Solo, with his towering figure (how is it that junior is taller than him?) and scowling face is the last thing Hux needs.

Ben’s large hand wraps around Hux’s arm, his long fingers firmly squeezing his bicep. “I dare because I can.” His voice is low and his lips curve into a seductive smile. Hux’s flush deepens and he pulls his arm away in anger.

“Don’t touch me” Hux huffs.

Ben merely laughs in response, a dark and devious sound, before he pushes past Hux and disappears into the crowd.

Fucking artsy weirdo,” Hux curses under his breath.

Ben has always been a thorn in his side, ever since Phasma began hanging out with Ben’s cousin Rey. Hux has spent the last year being dragged to Ben’s gallery openings, poetry readings, and even a frightening performance art show which scarred Hux for weeks. Lately it seems everywhere he turns he’s met with Ben’s dour face—his searching eyes, his stupidly long limbs always wrapped in dark clothing, his silky, thick hair. Hux bristles at the images popping into his head. The familiar and unwanted curl of arousal—often followed by his encounters with Ben—begins to spread across his body. Hux grits his teeth in response.

Of course.

“Fucking Ben Solo,” Hux mutters.

He pushes his way through the rowdy crowd, taking the steps two at a time as he makes his way to the second floor. Only when his hand curls around the door knob to the bathroom does he breathe a sigh of relief. He steps inside and shuts the door behind him, the thick wood muffling the noise of the party downstairs.

He turns on the faucet, leaning over the sink to splash cold water on his face. He lifts his head and glances into the mirror, watching rivulets of water fall from his cheeks and slide down to his jaw. Rather than refreshed, however, Hux feels more on edge than before. His body buzzes with restless energy and his cock twitches in the confines of his pants. He glares at his reflection, seeing his pink stained cheeks and the growing darkness of his eyes as his pupils widen in arousal. He huffs in frustration and looks away from the mirror, but his growing erection refuses to be ignored.

Hux lowers his hand, toying with the button of his jeans before relenting and popping it open. He pushes the denim down and groans in relief when his trapped cock finally tastes freedom. His dick strains against his briefs, a wet spot appearing on the cotton as his dick leaks in anticipation. Hux closes his eyes and rubs his hand over the growing bulge, sighing happily at the pleasing friction.

A loud knock sounds on the door and Hux’s eyes snap open.

“Occupied,” he shouts in reply. The knocking continues. Hux’s jaw tightens in frustration. “This bathroom is in use!”

The resulting silence is like a balm to Hux’s frayed nerves and he closes his eyes again, dipping his hand into his briefs.


Hux’s mouth drops open in shock as the loud crash reverberates across the tiles of the bathroom. Ben stands in the doorway, his chest heaving with labored breaths as he stares Hux down. Ben steps forward, shutting the door (with its now broken lock) behind him.

“What are you doing?” Hux seethes through clenched teeth.
Ben merely raises an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to Hux’s hand as it rests over his brief-covered cock. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Get out,” Hux hisses, his face heating in embarrassment.

“No,” Ben states simply, crossing his arms. His gaze never leaves Hux’s erection which seems to grow under Ben's intense scrutiny. Hux has never hated his dick more.

“Ben,” Hux warns, narrowing his eyes in indignation.

“The line at the bathroom is too long downstairs.” Ben shrugs nonchalantly, but his tight black jeans hide nothing. He saunters over, leaning against the sink next to Hux. Merely a few inches separate the two of them. “I think I’ll just use this one.”

Hux opens his mouth to protest but the words die on his lips as Ben unzips his jeans and pulls out his hard dick.

Fuck, Hux internally groans. Of course Ben Solo is hung like a horse.

Ben’s long fingers wrap around his impressive length, a happy groan escaping his plump lips. He glances over at Hux, a challenge lighting up in his dark eyes. Hux scowls in response but he pulls down his briefs, exposing his own hard dick. Ben’s mouth curls into an approving smile and his tongue darts out to lick his obscenely full lips.

This is a terrible, horrible idea.

Warning bells sound in Hux’s head but his hand has other ideas. It squeezes firmly around the base of his cock, tugging slowly on an upwards stroke. Ben nods in encouragement, his own hand fisting the thick length of his dick. Hux tries to look away, to close his eyes and surrender to the sensation of his hand pumping his eager cock. He fails miserably. Instead, he’s mesmerized by the sight of Ben’s dick and the glistening tip of his swollen head.

Hux’s hand speeds up, his hips unconsciously jerking up towards the tight fist of his fingers. Ben’s face is becoming flushed, his lips parted as he grunts and groans under his breath. A steady stream of pre-come leaks from his cock and drips over his long, elegant fingers. Hux wonders wildly what it would taste like, what would happen if he leaned over and lapped at the pool of come collecting at the tip. Ben’s eyes meet his and it’s as if he can read Hux’s mind. He bites his lower lip and stares Hux down. A multitude of filthy scenarios passes silently between them.

Hux’s balls tighten, thighs clenching as his pleasure rises. The sink vibrates against the base of his back, shaking with the trembling of both their bodies. Heat radiates from Ben’s skin and Hux can nearly taste the desperation in the air. Ben's hand is a blur over his cock, his urgent groans becoming louder and more wanton. He tilts his head back, displaying the long expanse of his throat. Hux just barely suppresses the urge to lean over and scrape his teeth against the exposed flesh. Instead he watches avidly as Ben gasps silently, his hips jerking as his release spills over his fingers and onto the tiled floor. Hux squeezes roughly, trying to hold on for a moment longer, but he’s too far gone now. An incoherent string of curses fall from his lips as his cock throbs and empties itself all over his still-moving hand.

The bathroom suddenly seems too small.

They recover in silence, the only noise is their shaky inhales and exhales as they try to catch their breath. Ben looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks are still stained pink and his dark, wild hair clings to his sweat-damp forehead. Hux avoids the mirror as he turns around to wash his hands, afraid of what his own expression might look like.

Ben clears his throat, the sound echoing loudly in the ever shrinking bathroom. “So...good party huh?”

Hux gapes at Ben, his mouth working uselessly as he tries to form some kind of response. Ben’s lips curl, that infuriating coy smirk of his spreading across his face. He pushes Hux’s hands out from under the still-flowing faucet, quickly rinsing them under the stream of warm water. Hux remains in stunned silence, even when Ben so boldly leans forward to press his lips against Hux’s cheek.

“I’ll see you around?” Ben’s tone is light but there is a hopeful edge to it. The flash of insecurity in Ben’s eyes most certainly does not make Hux’s heart flutter in response.

Before Hux can make a clever or cutting reply, Ben winks—winks—at him. He turns around and walks out the door, leaving it slightly ajar behind him.

“Fucking Ben Solo,” Hux mutters, his voice finally finding itself again. Hux pauses and ponders for a moment.

Fucking Ben Solo?

It’s not the worst idea he’s ever had.