-What are you up to?
-Drinking wine and ogling the pool boy.
-On a Tuesday.
-Christ, you’re such a fucking housewife.
Hux frowns at the screen of his iPhone like it was capable of somehow transmitting his displeasure. It was a 7 plus, matte black. His third one this year. The matte paint scratched so easily.
-What’s that supposed to mean?
-You know exactly what it means. You’re one glass of rosé away from a diamond tennis bracelet and Hot Yoga with Barbara and Susan.
-I still outrank you.
He and Phasma had served together in the Royal Navy when Hux was an LT, before he had come to America to work in private security. When she jumped the pond a few years later, he had set her up with a job at First Order as well, even introduced her to her now-fiancee Bethany. And this was how she repaid him.
Hux kills the last of the rosé in his glass. He normally preferred scotch, but it was hot out and the pink, sugary wine was more palatable before lunch. It didn’t mean anything.
-I’ll have Devon fire your arse, see if I don’t.
-He’s not going to fire me, not unless you’re coming back to work or you have three other people stashed away somewhere to do my job.
Hux can practically feel her rolling her eyes, and shoots back, quietly smug.
-He will if I ask him to. You’re not the one who touches his dick
There’s a long stretch without a response, then.
- i hate you why would you put that mental image in my head you son of a bitch
He slouches back in his Adirondack chair, triumphant, letting his phone drop onto his flat stomach. There’s a heavy beach umbrella beside him so that he can enjoy the view by his pool without turning into a boiled lobster. Even with the umbrella he’s made sure to slather himself in 70 SPF sunblock, and he can smell it wafting out of his pores. As a red-head living in southern California, he takes no chances.
Back when he worked in security, Hux had been known for his attention to detail. People said he was ambitious, driven, meticulous. He still is those things, every last one of them. But now, according to Phasma, he’s known around their old company as the gold digging ginger twink who married his 60-year-old boss. Gold digger he can live with. It’s tawdry, but not strictly untrue. Even Devon knew Hux hadn’t married him for his sparkling personality, or for the sex, which was uninspiring when it happened at all. Their understated winter wedding more of a political alliance than a love match.
Twink is patently ridiculous. He’s thirty-four, for one thing. Skinny, but in a tall, lean, wiry way. Not unattractive, if he’s being generous with himself, but hardly some soft, willowy little twenty-something hunting for dick in a gay bar.
But he draws the line at housewife.
It’s warm but not humid, not yet, and the muscular college boy who cleans their pool has cast off his t-shirt, exposing the broad expanse of his pale, freckled back to the sun.
“Ben,” Hux calls from under his umbrella, just to see him turn and lift his head.
He pushes dark hair back behind his ear to pluck one earbud out. “Yeah?”
His chest was an even better sight than his back, and after a few glasses of wine Hux has occasionally been tempted to write entire sonnets about Ben Solo’s back- the sweep of his shoulder-blades and the little divot at the small of his back that Hux wanted to lathe with his tongue. The taper of wide shoulders down to that trim, narrow waist. He was fucking perfect. The kind of body that should have been carved in white marble in a museum somewhere, fishing leaves and dead mosquitoes out of Hux’s in-ground pool.
God, he was thirsty.
“Don’t forget the filter this time.”
Ben ducks his head, “Thanks, mister Hux, I won’t.”
No one who had seen Hux’s husband could fault him for enjoying a bit of eye candy when it came over once a week and took its shirt off right in front of him.
Hux’s phone vibrates on his stomach with an incoming text.
-Seriously though, what are you doing today?
-That was the extent of my daily agenda.
It wasn’t Hux’s choice to retire from First Order at the age of thirty. He’d been proud of his career, his accomplishments, had wanted to push for more. He had so many ideas for expansion in the private sector- but Devon wanted to take care of him, and Hux had agreed, at first. He said there was something nepotistic about Hux holding a high-ranking position at the company his husband owned. Not that Hux cared, per se, believing himself more than capable of proving his merits without help from anyone else, but he agreed it was an issue. And he could hardly go work for the competition. A brief hiatus had slipped into years.
-Aren’t you bored?
Now his days were occupied with reading by the pool, shopping with his husband’s money, and looking nice at social events to promote First Order. The one sector of the company he had helped build into what it was today that Devon would still allow him control over- parties. He had even started learning to cook, using YouTube tutorials hosted by smiling, well-coiffed women, out of a desperate, clinging urge to have something to occupy his days.
He hesitates, thumb hovering over the keypad.
-Incredibly, he responds finally.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the sex was at least decent.
Phasma had probably had good dick more recently than he had. When Devon was home, which was rare, he seemed perfectly content with a perfunctory weekly exchange of blowjobs. A couple of kisses, a couple of nipple twists. A few fingers in his arse, if he was lucky. Sex was as much a business transaction as everything else in their relationship. Dry, unenthusiastic, and thoroughly dull. Hux had dreams about getting held down by strong hands and pounded into the mattress.
Ben bends over to take care of the pool filter and Hux again imagines dragging his tongue up the perfect line of his spine. He can just make out the outline of what he suspects is a gorgeous muscular arse under the boy’s loose-fitting beige cargo shorts. His own are growing distractingly tight.
In deference to the summer heat, Hux idly thumbs open the top two buttons of his pale cotton shirt. Sweat is beading at the back of his neck, just under his hairline, and between his thighs.
“How’s school going, Ben?” Hux asks, just to keep him around a little longer when it looks like he’s almost done.
Ben’s mother lived next door, and had mentioned her son away at college at NYU more than once before he had shown up at their door asking for a summer job.
“Oh- uh, it’s good! Thank you for asking. I really like New York. It feels so much more... I don’t know, more real than here, you know?”
“I understand what you mean. You’re studying history, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Ben smiles. His teeth are a little crooked, like his smile. It makes him look softer, more innocent than the perfect veneered smiles Hux has come to expect from Americans living in California. “Wow, I’m surprised you even remembered that.” He adds, “My parents are still trying to get me to change majors. They want me to go into politics.”
“I think you make an excellent student of history. You have the right kind of mind for it. You’re so thoughtful.”
He can’t tell if Ben is blushing or if it’s the sun. “Thanks, that- I really appreciate that mister Hux. My mom thinks it’s a waste of money, but luckily I have a scholarship and part-time work, so there’s not much she can do about it.” He twirls the pool skimmer idly in his big hands. “I don’t think I’d want to study anything except for history. I just think you can’t understand anything about the world unless you understand the past-”
Ben chatters innocently about Aristotle and World War I and his dilemma over picking a concentration, shirtless and kicking his feet in the clear water while Hux pours himself another glass of wine and thinks that he is probably going to hell for what he’s considering. If Ben were less open, less damnably sweet, he would feel less guilty.
“How’s your boyfriend?” Hux asks casually.
Hux had seen them around the neighborhood together a few times; tall, gangly Ben with his arm around a smaller boy with dark hair and a ready smile. That had been last year, when Ben was still a senior in high school.
He is most definitely going to hell.
“Oh, uh, Poe? We’re... we’re not together anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the wine makes him layer far too much sticky concern over the words. “What happened? Can I ask?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Ben’s words are light, but his head is down. He hides his eyes behind his long hair. “He just- it wasn’t working out, with college and everything, and anyway he found somebody more- someone else, so it’s all good.”
“That’s a shame,” Hux lies. “How about you? Is there anybody special in New York?”
“Nah,” Ben says, gracing Hux with another sweet half-smile. “I tend to be the library goblin. Pretty hard meeting guys when you never go anywhere. Especially- you know, when you look like me,” he adds, with an attempt at a self-deprecating little shrug.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re a very handsome young man.”
“That’s what my mom says.”
“I’m not your mother.” Hux swallows another mouthful of wine. “I’m not nearly old enough, for one thing.”
“No, I know! I didn’t mean that, sorry! You’re, uh definitely not old.” Was it his imagination or did Ben’s eyes flick guiltily down the length of his body, stretched out in the chair. “I just meant that people say that, but then uh, the evidence tells me otherwise.”
“Well the mirror, for one thing. I mean, I’m not exactly... I don’t know, Brad Pitt, or anything... Nobody ever gives me a second look. And Poe’s new guy is way- way better-looking than I could ever dream of.”
Hux had never realized Ben was insecure about his looks. He had been a bit ungainly as a teenager, Hux recalls, but then what teenager isn’t? Since then he had grown into his nose and his ears, becoming distinguished rather than cute, although perhaps the new haircut was an attempt to hide the ears.
“Stand up,” Hux orders. When Ben does he hums thoughtfully, considering. “Turn around.”
Suddenly abashed when he had been showing off far more just a few minutes ago while he leaned and stretched over the pool, Ben shuffles around obligingly. There’s a fragile half-smile on his face like he isn’t sure if he’s being teased or flattered. Hux takes the opportunity to devour Ben with his eyes, drinking in his long legs and trim stomach, the broad curve of his shoulders.
God, what he wouldn’t give to get down on his knees right there beside the pool and show him just how attractive he was. There is a constellation of tiny moles and freckles scattered across his chest and stomach, and Hux wants to chart them with his tongue, like stars-
Hux hides his distraction by finishing off the last of his second glass of wine. “I think I can say with authority that you are definitely not unattractive,” he pronounces.
This time Ben definitely blushes. “Thanks, mister Hux. You’re a really nice guy. You always try to see the best in people.” He is biting his lip, and it takes Hux far too much willpower not to crawl out of his comfortable chair and do it for him. “Your husband’s really lucky.”
It is definitely the wine that makes him say, “Someone should tell him that.”
“You think he doesn’t know?”
The innocent confusion on Ben’s face keeps him from saying what he thinks, which is, The problem is that he doesn’t care. Let the young man learn about loveless marriages of convenience another day.
“Here,” he says instead, feeling distinctly predatory, “Come inside and get something to drink before you leave.”
“Thanks, mister Hux.”
Ben follows him, barefoot, across the veranda and in the sliding glass doors to the kitchen. It’s bright, clean and sunlit, and Ben is every bit as fuckable in here as he was outside.
“You know you’re a grown man now, you don’t have to call me mister.”
“Sorry. Habit.” Ben smirks.
Hux grabs two bottled waters out of the fridge and passes one to Ben. Their fingers brush around the cool plastic bottle. Hux leans back on his elbows, arches against the fashionable beige-marble counter top in a way that’s calculated to make the hem of his shirt ride up on his stomach while he drinks.
When he finishes, Ben’s cheeks are faintly pink.
“Just Hux. Try it out.”
“Hi, just Hux.”
Ben laughs. “Hi Hux.”
“Much better. Have a lemon bar,” he adds, indicating the tray of neat, frosted little squares on the counter. They were one of his first forays into baking, and hadn’t turned out half bad.
“You cook too?”
“Only when I’m very bored.”
Crumbs cling to Ben’s lower lip when he bites into one of the lemon bars and makes an appreciative sound that goes straight to Hux’s cock. “Well they’re great,” he says around a mouthful of pastry. God, he was still such a boy. “I hope you get bored more often.”
“You’re in luck, then. I plan to be extremely bored this week. Devon’s in Chicago until next Thursday.”
Hux makes a noncommittal sound and helps himself to a bit of the powdered sugar. Drags one finger along the rim of the plate before sucking it into his mouth.
“That sucks, I’m sorry." Ben says after a minute. "Well if you need me for anything, just text me. You have my number.”
“There’s something you can help me with right now, since you’re here.”
Hux smiles, elbows on the countertop. “Top shelf, just there behind you. The Tupperware. Can you get one down for me?”
“Sure,” Ben says, readily. He turns, and Hux is treated to the arch of his bare back as he stretches up to reach the plastic containers. When he hands the container and lid to Hux, he doesn’t say anything about the fact that they’re of a height.
“Thank you, Ben,” he rolls the words around his mouth.
“You’re welcome, Hux,” Ben mimes back, smiling.
It is the sound of his name in Ben’s low, gentle voice that makes up his mind. He wants to hear it again. Wants to hear it screamed.
Hux packs the Tupperware high with lemon bars and pops the lid on before handing it back.
“There’s one other thing you can help me with,” he says, refusing to relinquish his hold on the plastic container. He uses it to tug Ben closer, until they are nearly chest to chest.
“Sure, what is it?”
Hux leans in and kisses him.
The kiss tastes like powdered sugar and faintly of lemon. Ben parts his lips in surprise, allowing Hux into his mouth. It’s a hungry, needy kiss, and Hux finds that once he starts he can’t stop devouring him.
Ben makes a soft, urgent sound before he catches himself.
“Uh- mister Hux?” he mumbles, hesitant. “What are you-?”
“What did we say,” Hux steals another soft, hungry kiss, “about calling me ‘mister’?” He eases the Tupperware out of Ben’s slack hands and sets it on the counter out of the way, so that he can press himself up against Ben’s chest, pulling him close until Hux is pinned between the counter and the length of his body.
He sounds hesitant. “You can’t- your husband is going to-”
“Devon doesn’t care what I do.” His arms have wound around Ben’s neck, trapping him and the masculine sweat-and-sunblock smell of him right where Hux needs.
“But-” Another kiss, he can feel Ben’s resistance wavering. He had forgotten how nice it was to kiss someone without having to bend down. Ben’s mouth is so sweet, answering every greedy little kiss with a hesitant one of his own.
“Do you want to?”
“I- yeah-” The exhalation is warm against his mouth. “But-”
“Want to fuck me with this?” he says, one hand finding its way down between them to cup Ben’s hardening cock. It’s shameless cheating, to rub him through his cargo shorts while kissing his mouth, his jaw, his neck, but Hux has never had any qualms about cheating to win.
“I want you to, Ben. Please fuck me?” He finds Ben’s nervous hand, captures it in his own, and drags it down to his arse. It’s Hux who moans this time, feeling strong fingers dig into his flesh. “That’s it. Please, sweetheart? You have no idea how long it’s been since anybody’s touched me like this. I just need you-”
Ben cuts him off with an urgent kiss. It’s sloppy, unpracticed and all tongue, but enthusiastic and so, so perfect.
This is what he’s been wanting. What he’s been needing. To be grabbed and pinned and overwhelmed by someone strong and eager enough to do it. To be wanted.
Hux turns them around so that Ben is backed against the kitchen counter and drops to his knees, finally indulging the fantasy he’d had all morning of running the flat of his tongue across Ben’s taut stomach. His skin tastes like chlorine and summer sweat.
“Oh, fuck-” Ben is biting his lip, gripping the edge of the counter. Hux thumbs open the button on his shorts and eases them down past his erection. There’s a damp spot on the front of his briefs where he’s so hard that his flushed cock has already started leaking through the material, and Hux runs his tongue over that as well before sucking the slick fabric into his mouth. Mouthing at his cock. Hux can feel the heat of it through his briefs-
“Shit!” Ben jerks and something clatters to the floor on the other side of the counter. The platter of lemon bars. “Sorry, I’m sorry-”
“Tsk. Messy boy,” Hux chastises him with the barest brush of teeth against the swell of his cock. Ben whines in his throat. “What am I going to do with you?”
And this was something he hadn’t realized he’d missed too- the low thrill of power. Of being in charge, being desired so urgently.
“Please?” Ben says, eloquently. He already sounds half-broken and Hux takes pity, remembering what it was like to be nineteen and inexperienced and so hard you could barely breathe. Hux tugs his underwear down his thighs, easing the elastic around his erection, and takes the head of Ben’s cock in his mouth. He can’t help but moan around the weight on his tongue- he was so big. Long and thick and perfect, just like the rest of him.
It doesn’t take long. Hux pumps him with one hand, the other squeezing his own needy cock in a distracted way, while he sucks and swallows and lathes the head with his tongue, pulling back to rub it against his slick lips before swallowing him down again.
A shallow little cry and, “Oh fuck- fuck, Hux I’m-” is all the warning he gets before Ben is shooting in his mouth. Hux swallows it. Adulterer- he never expected the word to thrill him as much as it does. The thought of kissing his husband knowing that he’d swallowed another man’s come.
“Oh... Wow...” Ben pants, dazed and naked, leaning heavily on the counter for support. “That was... wow...”
“Good?” Hux leans against him when he stands, so that he can bury his nose in Ben’s warm shoulder. Up close, Ben’s eyes are a warm brown, soft and full of feeling, his nose dotted with moles.
Hux trails kisses down his neck, smirking. He is still hard, and he lets Ben know as much by pressing it against his hip. “You’re sweet. Going to do something about this?”
Ben growls, playful, and suddenly Hux is being lifted by a pair of strong hands under his arse. He throws his arms around Ben’s neck, uncertain for a minute, but Ben is more than strong enough to take his weight, and it is one of the hottest things he’s ever experienced to have his legs hoisted around Ben’s waist as he’s carried into his bedroom. No one has ever managed to make him feel small the way that Ben does.
Hux’s bedroom is bland and tidy, like everything else in his house. Navy sheets on a neatly-made bed. Ben drops him on top of them and climbs over him, naked and powerful, and it takes all of Hux’s considerable willpower not to palm his cock. He finishes unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his own pale, narrow chest. Compared to the summer heat outside, the bedroom is chilly, meticulously climate-controlled. He can feel the warmth of Ben’s body above him.
“Still want me to fuck you?”
“God, yes- can’t wait to get you inside me, sweetheart.” Arousal has always made him affectionate. He cannot stand pet names outside of the bedroom.
Hux rolls onto his stomach and stretches up to reach his nightstand drawer. As he does, Ben growls and tugs his loose-fitting shorts down, exposing his arse to the cool air and nearly pulling him back down the bed. The rough treatment scratches some deep itch inside of him that he has been ignoring and ignoring and ignoring for years. While Ben peppers kisses down his bare back and arse, he stretches one long arm to rummage around in the drawer for lube and condoms. Their presence there is wishful thinking- he only ever uses them for his toys anymore, on evenings spent alone in an empty house, working his own arse open while he fists his cock and doesn’t bother trying not to shout Ben Solo’s name into his pillow as he comes.
Hux squirts the lube onto Ben’s hand and guides it down between his spread thighs. “Fuck, you’re so hot. How are you this-” Ben mutters against his skin, pushing his fingers inside, right where Hux has been aching for them. It’s been so long since he’s had anything but his own fingers or a toy down there. The warm stretch of Ben’s thick fingers makes his breath catch, bottom lip hitching between his teeth.
“That’s it, right there,” he sighs when Ben stretches him inside. “Can’t wait to have your big cock inside me.”
Ben fingers him open inexpertly, but with obvious enthusiasm. Rough and perfect, just this side of too much. The drag of his knuckles drives Hux half to distraction- he is arching his back, hands twisted in the comforter from the effort it takes not to grab his own cock, which is so hard it aches, flat against his stomach.“Right there, sweetheart. You’re so good, that’s it. Get me nice and open for you.” he whines. “Ben-”
“I’ve- I’ve only done this a couple of times before,” Ben confesses, when Hux reaches down to roll the condom over his lube-slick cock, relishing the length of him. “When Poe and I- we never did this much. He always said it was really uncomfortable, since I’m kind of, uh-” he trails off, adorably embarrassed.
“Mmm,” Hux hums, close to Ben’s ear, before kissing him. The soft blush on Ben’s cheeks is pulling the sweetest filth out of him. “Big? He couldn’t take your big cock, sweetheart?”
Ben groans, rutting against his hip. “Christ, Hux-”
“You just need a man who knows how to handle it. Let me show you.”
He turns over, pulling his knees up under him, and reaches back with one hand to stroke a bit more lubricant onto Ben’s lovely cock. His own is flushed red, leaking a dark patch onto the navy comforter he had bought with his husband. He can feel the slick slide of too-much lube between his balls, dripping to add to the mess on the bed.
Ben swears again, and doesn’t need any more encouragement to lean over and press himself into Hux’s wet hole.
The first push makes him suck in a shaky breath, exhaling as he’s stretched, filthy-slick. He can feel himself clenching around Ben’s cock, pulling him in deeper. Desperate to be filled.
“Is this okay?” Ben asks as he slowly bottoms out.
Hux feels like he’s going to die if Ben doesn’t move right this very second. It’s shameless, aching, this need to be fucked.
“Perfect, you feel so good Ben, don’t stop-” Hux rocks his hips, slipping Ben shallower and deeper. It’s a pale imitation of what he needs. The last frayed edge of his dignity close to snapping. He needs it- Needs-
Ben groans, low in his chest and thrusts, hard and perfect. Arcs over Hux’s back, strong arms braced on either side of him, and does it again, and again, and again-
The most desperate little sounds are being fucked out of him with every rough snap of Ben’s hips. Urgent sounds, desperate, whorey little sounds, as he’s pounded into the mattress.
The bed rocks under their movements, mattress creaking. Hux cannot do anything but hold on, one hand on the headboard, the other twisting desperately in the sheets. “Oh fuck- oh fuck- Ben, Ben, fuck-”
He tries to hold out, cannot bear for this to be over, but Ben pumps his desperate, leaking cock in his big hand once, twice, and Hux is lost, screaming as he comes in thick pulses on the bed.
Ben thrusts into him a few more times, hot and greedy, rhythm-less, before pushing in deep, his powerful body trembling.
While Ben discards the used condom, Hux collapses on his back, so fucked out and utterly spent that he feels empty inside. He pants, overheated, trying to regain his breath. His thighs are shaking.
“That was incredible.” Ben’s voice is rough, faintly dazed. Hux wonders if he might have broken him. “I’ve never had sex like that before.”
Hux searches inside himself for a witty rejoinder, but finds nothing but blissful emptiness. The tension he'd gotten so used to carrying has evaporated. He had forgotten sex could be like that. Something other than a tedious chore done on his knees.
“Will I see you again, Hux?” Ben asks, eager. “I mean, can we do this again?”
When Hux finds his voice, it’s every bit as hoarse as Ben’s. “I think... I might need to start having the pool seen to twice a week.”