He’s staring again. Ben knows it’s wrong. Knows there’s nothing that could be gained from it. Force help him, he can’t help it. Not when his very presence in the Force is like a homing beacon.
It’s been three days into this political summit. Three days of empty words and promises on the side of the New Republic, of barely-concealed threats from the First Order. Three days of Ben sitting in a repulsorpod with Master Luke and Rey, as representatives of the New Jedi. Though Master Luke had fought to keep the Jedi apolitical, recent tensions that had ignited between the First Order and several Outer Rim Republic territories had forced them at several instances to come to said territories’ aid. This in turn led to further strain on the relationship between governments, which was now being pinned squarely on the shoulders of both Master Luke and General Organa.
General Organa’s repulsorpod is beside theirs. Admiral Ackbar is with her, alongside a young lieutenant who Ben vaguely remembers used to be an intern in his mother’s office. General Organa hadn’t wanted Ben to come. But anything that involved the Order also involved Ben, by extension. Which is why he’s here. Suffering the Republic’s idiocy and inaction in real time, while the First Order ran circles around them. It’s enough to make Ben want to take out his lightsaber and do something to really get them worried.
General Hux’s presence… isn’t helping.
A Centrist Senator has just finished a speech full of vapid platitudes to scattered applause. Once he returns to the stands, it’s the First Order’s turn. Specifically, Hux’s. A mousy young lieutenant is whispering something to him, and his expression is intent. Taut, calm and composed. He’s one of the keynote speakers for this summit, and heat clenches low in Ben’s gut when he sees him give his lieutenant a curt answer before taking the floor.
He wonders if this is what Hux looks like overseeing his stormtroopers, the faceless, nameless thousands the First Order had stolen and claimed in its gaping red maw. From the day they’d met, even without the piecemeal intelligence the Resistance had been able to gather about the First Order’s operations, Ben knows Armitage Hux is going to be important.
The sweat-soaked dreams involving red light reflected burning in ice-blue eyes couldn’t mean anything else.
Once Hux has their attention, he wastes no time in denouncing the actions of the Resistance as military aggression on the part of the New Republic. There’s nothing new about what he’s saying, but something about the quality of his speech – and his skill at parrying the Senate’s questions – has the Senate in an furor. The bright fire of his hair burns as bright as his conviction, his complete and total devotion to the Order, so incandescent that Ben doesn’t even need to skim the surface of his mind to feel it. It’s a quality that Ben… envies, if he were to be honest. Believing in something so fully and completely, with your whole being.
He hasn’t felt that since Luke ripped Snoke – and his lies - out of his head.
Hux finishes his speech, to an uproar from all sides of the Senate. Its members are conferring amongst themselves in a nervous, angry buzz, but Ben can’t help but notice that the Centrists were doing little to help prop up the Republic’s crumbling stance, leaving the rest to flounder. Ben can see the Ryloth representative’s lekku twitching in agitated panic as he confers with General Organa. General Organa’s mouth is set in a grim, angry line, eyes blazing as she leans towards Master Luke. Her twin faces her, neither of them needing words to speak.
Hux looks tired. His features remain impassive, and honestly he always looks like he could use a good night’s sleep, but Ben can always tell when he’s especially drained, has had over two years of watching his every controlled move from the ranks of the Jedi. His lieutenant has left his seat to do whatever he’d been ordered to do, and while the senior-most members of the First Order’s peace contingent duke it out with the New Republic’s, he’s silent, eyes narrowed. Observing the players and their galaxy-spanning game.
All of a sudden, his eyes meet Ben’s.
Hux looks at him for almost a full minute. Only looking away as he and the rest of the First Order’s representatives walk out, their backs to the New Republic.
He creeps (no better word for it) onto the starship that served as the mobile headquarters for the First Order’s dignitaries. No easy feat when Stormtroopers are guarding the parameters, and each side, Republic and Order alike, was baying for the other’s blood. Hux’s quarters, when Ben enters them, are utilitarian to the point of bareness It’s all military-standard greys and whites, and there’s not a single personal effect in sight to soften the place. Ben hangs back in the shadows for a few minutes, breathing , just breathing. He’d never been close enough to smell Hux before, and to his surprise, there’s an undercurrent of something almost floral in the room. Something secret.
“I wondered when you would get here.”
His voice is crisp and clear, younger than how he sounds on the propaganda holovids and all the way across a conference hall. A rush of warm steam, and the sweet scent, stronger this time, fills the room. Hux steps out of the ‘fresher, stripped of his uniform and dressed in nothing but a thin bathrobe.
His bright hair is damp, soft and free from its usual slicked-back severity. Ben stares. Hux looks back at him, gaze even, voice cool. As impassive as his expression was when he all but beamed the location of his personal quarters into Ben’s mind.
“When?” Ben echoes, when he finds his voice again. Hux sneers.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” The words are bold, but Ben can sense his palpable nervousness. It’s fascinating, and Hux’s eyes flash, as if he can sense Ben noting this weakness.
“Just to warn you, there’s nothing you can possibly gain by rifling through these rooms. This ship is merely an interim transport vessel. I’d also warn you not to pry into my head. I’m well-trained in mental shielding.”
That makes Ben smile, just a little. “There’s never been information that I wanted that I couldn’t force anyone to give up.” He says. Hux’s eyes narrow.
“Isn’t that against your moral code?” He asks, Ben’s eyes following him across the room. “I seem to remember the Jedi falling because one of them couldn’t obey their own rules.” His shoulders are tight with tension.
“I use what works for the situation. You would know everything about that, General. Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought me here.” Hux’s lips tug up, as if to concede a point.
“Weren’t you afraid that this would be a trap? Following me to what’s technically First Order territory seems a massive risk to take just for a fuck.” Hux moves, and Ben’s eyes follow him. He’s smaller without his uniform. The robe drapes, too-large for his narrow shoulders.
“You want me too much. And I know Snoke’s traps too well to fall for them again.”
Hux, to his credit does not go pale, or reach for a blaster. He just looks at Ben, expression unreadable. He was right about his mental shielding; when Ben brushes against them using the Force all he senses is the cold sterility of a locked vault.
Ben’s treated to a flash of his creamy inner thigh beneath the short robe as Hux sits down on the edge of the narrow bed. He stiffens when Ben steps forward and sinks into the space beside him. Close enough that he can feel his every twitch, the sharp soft sound of his breath hitching when Ben slips his hands around his waist. .He feel Hux press very slightly against his touch. Ben shifts him slightly, forcing Hux to look at him.
“So this is what the First Order’s reduced to,” Ben murmurs. “Your Supreme Leader whoring out his top general to his wayward student.” A bright flush crawls up Hux’s face and he pulls away.
“I’m not a whore.” Hux says tersely, unable to stop the shame from suffusing his words. Or the hurt. Ben stares at him, and Hux’s jaw tightens as his mind shutters closed. The moment before it does, Ben catches a wisp of memory: A massive figure, seated on a throne. Hux standing, hands curled into fists in helpless fury and disbelief, feeling sick to his stomach that the very thing he had guarded himself against for years would be used against him by someone he had respected.
“I know how that feels,” Ben says, very quietly. Hux had been determinedly staring at a point behind him, but at Ben’s words he starts, just a little. Confusion in his pale blue eyes at the offered sympathy.
“Come here,” Ben says, tugging him closer before Hux remembers his pride and makes up his mind to leave, Snoke’s orders be damned. Hux is stiff, but he doesn’t flinch away, or pull back in revulsion as Ben takes him into his arms.
He’s slender. So slender that Ben’s startled. Soft in places he didn’t expect, his skin very warm beneath the thin robe. His whole torso is a mass of coiled tension, his cold anger a counterpoint to the pure lust Ben can feel radiating from him. It had hit him like a wave of Force lightning, when Hux had glanced at him at the summit. Now, with Hux’s soft breath fanning over his breastbone and turning to gasps when Ben nuzzles against his throat and shoulder, Hux’s desire is overwhelming.
Ben’s hands slip around Hux’s waist. Stroking up and down the small of his back, working the tension out of his muscles until he feels Hux relax against him. He smells wonderful, the floral scent subtle enough to be all warm sweetness, rising up from Hux’s skin. Ben wonders idly why Hux specifically chose this scent for this assignation.
Ben’s hands find the belt of Hux’s robe, and Hux freezes when he feels him untie it. But he doesn’t stop Ben as he slips the robe down Hux’s shoulders. Hux’s skin is soft and unblemished, unscarred. Pale silk dusted with cinnamon, flushing warm pink the longer Ben drinks him in. So very human, along with Hux’s unsteady inhale as Ben draws the robe off of his shoulders, down to his waist.
Hux’s mind had been radiating eagerness up to this point. However when Ben tries to push the robe away, Hux’s tightly clenched fists gather the rumpled fabric onto his lap, hiding himself, his head lowered. His expression nothing but quiet panic when Ben cups his cheek and tilts his face up towards his.
“This is your first time,” Ben says. It’s not a question. Hux flushes even harder, glares at Ben. His bathrobe remains firmly wadded on his lap, a vain attempt to hide how hard he already is. When he doesn’t answer, Ben strokes the side of his face.
“What did he offer you? A promotion?” It’s meant to be mocking but Ben realizes he does feel an undercurrent of sadness for Hux. Hux flinches, but doesn’t look away, his eyes too large in his face. He’s not afraid, not exactly, but he can’t hide his trepidation – or the anger, coming off of him in waves. Not just directed at Ben, but a great deal of it aimed both at Snoke and himself, mingled with shame and disgust.
“He didn’t offer me anything. I’m here because I have to follow orders. You came here to fuck me.” He snarls. “Can you please just do so and get this over with?” His voice doesn’t shake, but his pulse spikes when Ben leans forwards, places his hands around his naked waist.
“I’ll make this good for you,” Ben breathes against his ear, watching him tremble before his hands start to roam.
Hux’s eyes widen when Ben starts to touch him, tracing constellations onto his freckles, working the lovely soft pinkness of his nipples until they’re raw and erect, pebbled under the rough pads of Ben’s thumbs. Ben rolls the hardened nubs between his fingers, and goosebumps shiver across Hux’s skin. Hux jolts, a high flush creeping over his cheeks when Ben gives the soft curve of Hux’s belly a teasing pinch, then dip lower to the divot of his slightly bony hips. He’s beautiful. Fragile. Ben continues touching, continues stroking, until he senses all of Hux’s trepidation and shame has evaporated, Hux arching up against his touch, his mouth falling open when Ben lays his hand flat against his quivering belly, Ben’s skin burning at the sight.
He notices -at the same time as Hux by the way his blue eyes go dark – that he’s still fully dressed while Hux is all but naked before him. This he remedies by gently settling Hux’s hands over his clothed chest.
“Go on,” he says. “This is yours, too.” He stops. Not entirely certain why he said that, but it has the desired effect. Hux’s gaze flickers. There’s something torn in Hux’s blue eyes, but they frost over when he catches Ben watching. He takes a deep breath, then his slender digits tighten on the folds of Ben’s clothes. He tugs at them none-too-gently, with an eagerness that Ben can see him fighting to hide, that makes thoughts and memories spill out unbidden from the locked fortress of his mind.
Hux has wanted him for a long time. Had wanted to be broken by him the first time he saw him, that strange boy who was watching, always watching him, simmering power behind those beautiful dark eyes. In the quiet, lonely privacy of his quarters Hux would take himself in hand and imagine being used and cherished and filled up, absolute filth whispered into his ears, large hands cradling his hips, caressing him, spreading him open while he gasps, fucking his own fist and sighing Ben’s name.
Ben’s cloak, tunic, and belt fall to the floor, his mouth curling into a smirk as Hux’s greedy gaze devours him, his thick muscular body honed by years of training. Scars left by skirmishes little more than faded silver lines on his skin, and he smiles at Hux’s hesitant caress. Almost laughing when Hux’s trembling hands undo the clasp of his trousers, pushing them along with his underwear down his thighs. Ben kicks them off, away with his boots. Hux’s eyes going almost comically wide as he takes the size of Ben in, heavy and obscenely thick, already hard.
“Touch me,” Ben says. “Go on, General. This is for you.” Hux’s flush deepens, but emboldened, he moves forward, spreads his hands flat on Ben’s chest, glancing every now and then at Ben’s cock. His fingers are delicate, elegant, several fingers of his right hand slightly crooked as if they’d been broken, and Hux sucks in a breath when Ben traces his fingers over them.
“What happened here?” He asks softly. The expression in Hux’s eyes flickers for a moment.
“Combat training,” Hux replies briefly. He does not elaborate. Ben lifts his right hand up, kissing the knuckles before taking the index and middle fingers into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around them and sucking, pulling off and laving wet kisses on his knuckles at the soft juncture between index finger and thumb, until Hux’s breathing goes heavy and hitched. In Hux’s distraction, Ben deftly pushes aside the flimsy robe shielding his erection, and Hux lets out a startled cry as Ben takes his cock in hand and gently pushes him down, flat on his back on the bed. Hux stiffens, mouth falling open as Ben hovers over him, caging him with his body.
“It’s all right,” Ben says, his voice rough and raw. Hux takes a deep breath. His ribcage expands beneath Ben’s hands, his pulse sweet and swift against Ben’s mouth when he leans down to skim a kiss against his wrist, letting out a sweet little whimper as Ben begins to stroke up and down his cock.
“I see you watching me. I always do. I always…. Wanted.” The words spill out of Hux, a tumbled, rushed confession that has Ben faltering, just for a moment. Hux takes a deep, shaky breath when Ben runs a hand down the light trail of red hair extending past his navel, then back to his cock, swiping the sticky mess of precome at the tip, fondling his balls.
“Would you have acted on it if it weren’t for your orders?” Ben asks quietly, not entirely certain why he’s asking this, why he’s asking now. Hux hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head, flushing even deeper. The shame and self-disgust warring with his elated desire.
“I’m sorry,” Ben says, continues stroking him. Hux closes his eyes, turns his face away. Without thinking, Ben brings Hux’s hand to his lips. Kisses the back.
“Don’t.” He says. “Don’t feel ashamed.”
It’s a while before Hux opens his eyes again, turns to face Ben. Ben realizes just then that he’s still holding Hux’s hand. Shyly, Hux tugs him forward. Spreading his legs so that Ben can crawl between them.
“I didn’t expect you would be so gentle.” Hux falls silent. His face pink, his arms spread on either side of him and his legs splayed out obscenely beneath Ben. Offering himself, and what else can Ben do but partake?
“Ben-“ Hux starts, stops. Ben closes his eyes, lets the sound of his name wash over him. The first time he ever heard it from Hux’s lips.
The kisses start out gentle. Peppered lightly along Hux’s chest and belly, progressing to light nips that leave Hux panting soft and squirming. Ben lets out a strangled curse when Hux, shy and careful, rocks up into his fist.
There’s no ice in Hux’s eyes now. They’re wide and lost. His slender hands grasp Ben’s, nails digging into his skin. Ben waits for his shivery nod before bears down on him again.
“Tell me if it’s too much.” Ben pants, his own neglected erection heavy between his legs. Hux shakes his head as best as he can, his hair fanned out like bright fire against his pillow.
“More,” He gasps. Ben gives him another firm stroke, languorously slow and gentle. Lightning bolts of pleasure sparking through him whenever he feels Hux’s flesh yielding sweetly beneath his. Hux’s eyes are wide, the clearest blue Ben has ever seen.
He gently pulls his hand free from Hux’s grasp, leans forward. Hux stiffens for a moment, sucking his breath in surprise, Ben’s mouth hovering over his, teasingly close. A thrill goes through him when he listens in on Hux’s lust-muddled thoughts, realizes he’s never been kissed, but wants it now. Wants it as badly as the hand stroking him to the brink of orgasm, as much as he wants Ben’s cock to be inside him.
Ben doesn’t kiss him. Instead, he cups Hux’s cheek in his palm, feeling every hitch of his breath, every small gasp as he plays with him, fondling his balls, squeezing his leaking cock.
“I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long,” Ben’s touch brushes lower, onto his perineum, and Hux jerks, mouth going slack when Ben presses down. Never been fucked. Never been kissed. “Years of touching yourself, dreaming of me.” Hux’s flushes deep red, mouth falling open in a silent song as Ben presses firmly against his perineum. Ben allows himself the indulgence of swiping his thumb across Hux’s soft lips before pulling away, straightening up, and Hux whines. Close to sobbing in frustration as Ben pushes him back down on the bed when he tries to steal a kiss. His first kiss. His mouth wet and tingling for it, desperate for Ben to claim him, every part of him. Ben growls deep in his chest, practically shaking with the strain of keeping his pleasure in check, but Hux’s deep, unbridled want is making it more and more difficult to restrain himself from just taking him-
Hux keens as his orgasm rocks through him, spilling all over his belly,. Ben’s hand shakes as he milks him, long hard pulls that have Hux coming again after the worst is over, a weak little stream dribbling down Ben’s fist. A final shudder wracks through Hux before his legs then give out, going limp and Ben swears, shouts as his own orgasm rips through him, leaving a sticky splattered mess on his chest, on his belly, on the sheets, on Hux.
Hux’s mouth quivers when he feels the warm splatter of Ben’s come against his skin, then falls still. He whimpers, a small broken sound full of loss and need, his hands twitching limply at his sides like all he wants is to reach for Ben. Ben’s shaking, one hand closed over Hux’s hip, the other resting over his come-smeared belly. Hux’s and his seed mingled on his pale skin.
“Ben,” Frail and faint and small. Hux looks so young, shivering and stained with his own release. So vulnerable. So beautiful. So ashamed. “Please.” Something breaks in Ben at the sound of Hux begging.
“What else do you need?” Ben rasps. Hux simply looks at him, eyes damp. His thighs twitch, but don’t close as Ben kneels between Hux’s legs, spreading them further.
Hux quivers when Ben dips his head down, licks a long stripe down the inside of his thigh.. Hux groans as Ben cleans him up, licking and swallowing until the insides of Hux’s thighs are perfect and pure once more. Immaculate, His and Hux’s mingled come a heavy flavour in his mouth. Hux’s cock twitches against Ben’s mouth as he tongues at his tip. His eyes sliding half-shut, close to falling asleep as Ben drifts down lower, to his perineum. Onto his tight, untouched hole.
Hux jerks in surprise when he feels Ben’s tongue press against his tightly furled rim. Swirling gently, and Ben grins when he hears him swear. Wide awake now as he clutches at Ben’s hair, yanks his head up. His expression comically affronted and disbelieving as Ben firmly tugs himself free.
“Trust me,” He says, only partly teasing before he returns to work. Hux is rosy down there, so clean and untouched, so new that Ben’s mouth is watering at the taste of him, at the thought of taking him, of being the first to make him feel this, the first to find all of Hux’s sweet, secret, sacred places. He doesn’t have to look up to know that Hux is hard again. But it’s not enough. Ben knows it’s not enough. Hux wants more.
(He wants more)
“Have you got lube?” Ben asks after a few more minutes of licking, of pressing his tongue in as deep as he could go into Hux’s entrance (not terribly far with how tight he is), of feeling his every twitch. Hux sucks in a breath, gestures weakly at a small bottle sitting on top of the bedside drawer. A flick of his wrist and it flies into Ben’s hand. The clear gel cold on his fingers as he liberally coats them, and Hux moans a little when Ben presses a final kiss to his hole, then his taint. Pulling his mouth away, sliding one lube-slick finger between his cheeks.
Hux cries out when Ben circles his wet, puckered rim with the tip of his index finger. He bites his lip as Ben presses against him, inside him, and Ben sucks in a breath at Hux’s expression. He’s had Ben’s hand on his cock and his tongue in his ass but only now does Ben see open fear on his face. When Ben leans down, brushes a kiss over the tip of his cock, he moans.
“I know,” Ben says, soft. He gives Hux’s thigh a soft, reassuring squeeze, sinks his finger deeper, and Hux cries out again, eyes fluttering shut.
“Relax. It’s all right. You’re all right. I want to see you. Please, Hux.” When Hux opens his eyes, they’re wet, lined with tears. Ben drops kisses against his thigh. Whispering gentle words against the soft skin, praise. Until Hux relaxes enough for Ben to start working him open again, slowly, in time with firm, hard strokes to Hux’s cock. Carefully sliding his finger all the way in, stopping when he feels Hux clench around him. Humming something sweet and nonsensical, just to get him to relax.
“Do you want me to stop?” Ben murmurs. Hux gives a violent shake of his head. His eyes are red at the corners. Tenderness, hopeless and helpless wells up in Ben at the sight, alongside deep grief.
“Do you remember the day we met?” Ben asks to distract him, pressing gentle kisses to the curve of his knee. It works. Some of the tension floods out of Hux’s body at the soft caresses, and Ben sighs in relief when he feels him unclench. Relaxing just enough for Ben to start moving again, circling. He pulls out, recoating his fingers in lube, and Hux whines at the loss, quieting down when Ben slides back inside him.
“You were staring.” Hux’s voice is little more than a sigh as Ben works him open. “At me. I couldn’t understand why. I had no idea who you were.” Ben smiles, crooking his finger a little so that it brushes against Hux’s prostate, and Hux moans. Lewd and loud and filthy.
“I knew . Ah – “Ben sucks in a breath when Hux thrusts up onto Ben’s finger. “I knew about what you do. What you’ve done.” Sudden anger spikes through him at the defiant flash in Hux’s eyes. He can hurt Hux, like this. He can break Hux, like this. Hux and his stormtroopers wouldn’t hesitate to destroy him or everyone he loved. The darkness clinging to his mind whispers that Hux would deserve it anyway.
But no. Not like this. Not when Hux gave himself to him so freely. Not when he’s here, completely helpless beneath Ben’s touch, trusting him with his body and his pleasure despite Snoke forcing him into this. Ben inhales, exhales.
“Ben-“ Hux’s voice trails off when Ben kisses his knee. Pulls his index finger out, lining up his second finger, slowly pushing in. Despite his gentleness and soft warnings, Hux still cries out in pain, clenching tightly around Ben.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” Ben kisses Hux’s thigh over and over again. Getting him to relax, to allow Ben to move. His pulse is thundering in his ears “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s true, he realizes with a jolt the moment he says it. Something rips open in his chest when he sees Hux’s face, twisted in agony, tears lining his pale lashes.
“Do you want to continue?” Ben asks, chest tight. Hux lets out a breath, forcing himself to relax. To breathe through the pain. Ben reaches for his hand, and Hux grips it with the terror of a child. Needing comfort, reassurance.
“Please,” He whispers. Soft with pain and need. “I want to- have to – feel you inside.” He swallows. His voice is hollow and raw.
Ben breathes a kiss against Hux’s knuckles. Only starts moving again when Hux squeezes his hand, smiles at him. It’s the strangest, sweetest thing Ben has ever seen.. Soft and open, tears trickling down the delicate curve of his cheeks, and watching one dribble off his chin feels even more intimate than spreading Hux open with two fingers. He takes his time, taking care to brush lightly against his prostate in order to offset the burn of the stretch. Beneath him, Hux is close to being overwhelmed, and he barely notices when Ben shifts on the bed until his new position makes his fingers snag a little on Hux’s tender, oversensitized rim. He lets out a fragile gasp as Ben gently cups the back of his neck, pulling him forward and kissing him full on the mouth.
Ben’s almost certain that Hux would balk at being kissed considering where his mouth had been earlier, but to his surprise, Hux melts against it. Uncertain and sweet and chaste. When he kisses back, he’s eager but hesitant. Shy and questioning. Am I doing this right? Does this feel good? Ben groans when he feels Hux tentatively lick at his lips. His turn to open up for Hux, this time, and he deepens the kiss, sucking and fucking his tongue into Hux’s mouth, encouraging Hux to do the same, to taste him. Feeling every hitch in his breath when he spreads him open. Hux doesn’t taste like much but regulation mint toothpaste, but if that was all the only thing Ben can taste from then on he’d be content.
“I’m adding a third.” He whispers against Hux’s mouth. His voice shakes a little when Hux nods, wrapping his arms around Ben’s shoulders, holding him close. Ben’s hard again - he’d been so busy and overwhelmed by the taste and feel and everything of Hux that he’d barely noticed his own body reacting to him. He restrains himself once again when he pulls out, slides three fingers in, Hux burying his face against Ben’s neck as Ben fights with his own impatience, willing his hand to remain steady, to not shake, to be gentle as he opens Hux up.
“Are you ready?” He whispers against Hux’s temple. It’s going to hurt no matter how gentle he is, Hux is so tight, so new to this, already sore and aching just with having three fingers inside him. Hux’s breaths are coming out punched out and terrified. But there’s want too, in his eyes. Pale blue fire that refuses to be denied.
“Ben. Please.” His regulation-clipped nails sink into the meat of Ben’s shoulders. “Fuck me,” Ben swallows. Presses a kiss against the corner of Hux’s mouth as he slides his fingers out of him,
The sudden emptiness makes Hux’s knees tremble, making him involuntarily buck up against Ben. Ben curses, bites his lip to keep himself from coming as he slathers lube all over his own cock. Hux’s tears flow freely down his face, his cock hard and leaking once again. His eyes wide and helpless as Ben spreads his legs open with shaking hands. He kisses Hux again to calm him, distract him with teeth and tongue and lips whispering his name with soft reverence before Ben lines himself up and pushes into his hot velvet tightness.
Hux screams. It’s swallowed up by Ben’s kiss, one hand stroking his hair while the other plays with his cock. Ben’s mind pouring comfort, tenderness, desire as he sinks deeper into Hux. Hux’s walls clenching around him and it’s obscene, watching his own cock sliding into the man who would become his enemy, who is his enemy. Agony and bliss warring on Hux’s features and he clutches at Ben’s arms as Ben finally, finally sinks into him completely, buried to the hilt inside of him, his balls pressed against Hux’s rim.
For a moment they just rest. They just breathe. Hux is gasping. His eyes so clear that Ben feels like he’s looking right through them, deep into the core of him. All his anger, all his fear, his pain and pride and bitterness and contempt. For Ben, for the New Republic, for Snoke, for himself. The gnawing black hunger, ever-present, greed and festering corruption behind that beautiful face. But a kind of innocence, too. Hope and unwavering trust in what had saved him, what would save the galaxy one day, he would make sure of it.
Please. Hux doesn’t say it out loud. Ben still hears him, anyway. Hux is overcome, stretched so wide that he feels like he’s being torn in half.
Fuck me. Ben can hear it, somehow through the near-incoherent buzz of Hux’s thoughts as he clings and shakes to pieces in Ben’s arms. The image of the composed general completely wrecked as Ben mouths kisses against his nape. Fuck me. I want to feel you. I want to feel this. I want to remember –
“Hush,” Ben murmurs. “It’s all right. You’re all right.” He kisses Hux’s temple and Hux’s eyes fall shut. He whines, deep in his throat when Ben nuzzles against his cheek, beginning to move in short shallow thrusts. Keeping his movements gentle, restraining the animal urge to shove all the way inside, splitting Hux open. The urge to fuck Hux so thoroughly that he can never wash Ben out of his skin warring with his desire to keep him, to protect him. To ensure no harm ever comes to him.
“I’ve got you.” He nuzzles the side of Hux’s head, tasting him, his shower-damp hair now soaked in sweat. “Just relax.” Continues coaxing, and after a few more moments Hux breathes out. The pressure easing around Ben’s cock as he unclenches further, allowing Ben to slide in deeper. Hux whimpers again, but less because of the burn than at the sensation of Ben inside him, fucking him in firm, steady thrusts, mouth falling open when he feels Ben hit his already overstimulated prostate.
“Perfect,” Ben presses a kiss against Hux’s throat, the pretty blushing curve of it, offered up to him like a sacrifice. “Mine.” Hux’s eyes flash at that, lovely and defiant. But the truth of it is here, inside of him, undeniable. Ben fucking him slow, filling him up, kissing him until there’s nothing else but the taste of Ben, the weight of his body, the sensation of being seen and filled up and not found wanting, and the single coherent thought Ben can hear is how much Hux wants to keep him. To curl up, childishly, somewhere hidden and secret and safe, have Ben all to himself.
Ben brushes the sweat-damp hair from Hux’s forehead, kisses him. Hux kisses back. Hungry and desperate and the last of Ben’s restraint crumbles at Hux’s sweet little cry.
“Ben!” it’s small and high and so, so broken. Ben groans, sweat dripping down the ends of his hair, ducking his head down and sinks his teeth into the curve of Hux’s shoulder, drawing blood and leaving his mark, at the same time burying himself inside as far as he can go, so that Hux will never be rid of the stain of him.
Hux cries out, goes boneless in Ben’s arms. The sticky rush of Hux’s orgasm claims Ben’s own and he grunts, the taste of come and blood heavy on his tongue as he empties himself deep inside of Hux.
They hold each other for a long while after. Ben stroking Hux’s hair, snatching at the flickering bits of Hux’s thoughts, like a child playing with colored glass, curiously holding them up to the light. They’re mere impressions, barely anything coherent: Hux is exhausted, more than anything else. And so, so sore. Ben had kissed Hux in apology, and Hux had surprised him by winding his arms tight around him. Clinging to him. Ben had cradled his jaw and clumsily cleaned off the sticky tear tracks with his tongue.
It had made Hux smile.
Now that rational thought was beginning to trickle in, Ben detects amusement. Hux finds it funny that Ben would prefer to play with his hair right in the heart of an enemy ship. He’s also a little touched at the little undercurrent of worry running through Ben’s ministrations. But slowly growing inside him, like a storm gathering strength in the distance is his dread. He will have to face Snoke after this, and Ben holds him a bit more tightly at that.
I don’t want to let you go.
Is it Hux’s thought, or his? Ben blinks at the sudden burn behind his eyes, opens his mouth. Not even sure what he’s about to say, but Hux looks away, and whatever golden spell of silence between them is broken.
When Hux pulls away from Ben, he lets him go. Sitting up and silently watching the bed as the General put his mask back on, not even a wince of pain betraying him as he slips on his rumpled robe. After a few seconds Ben silently reaches for his discarded clothing, starts pulling them on.
“You’d best go, Captain Solo.” Hux’s voice is quiet. Ben pauses from buckling his belt, a leaden weight settling deep in his belly.
He finishes dressing. When he’s done, he turns to Hux. Hux’s narrow shoulders are still, and the bite mark Ben left on his shoulder is a livid red, faintly visible through the thin fabric of his robe. It’s not cold in the room at all, but Ben still drapes his cloak over that fragile frame. Hux’s eyes widening once more as Ben cups his face between his hands.
“He’s lying to you,” Ben says. Desperate, urgent. “Snoke. Don’t believe in anything he promises you. He’s going to use you and throw you aside when he’s done.” Hux’s face looks so fragile between Ben’s too-large hands.
“I know.” Hux says, very quietly. Ben stares at him, at the sweep of his eyelashes, his steady expression. Not resigned, not defeated. Definitely not begging to be saved.
He kisses Hux, memorizing the taste of him, the shy way he kisses back. Ben kisses him again after they’d both stopped to draw breath, this time on the forehead. Holding him close, feeling Hux breathe against him for a few moments longer before pulling away.
I’m sorry. If it’s from Hux, or from him, Ben can’t tell. He turns back one last time before he exits the room. Ben knows he can watch a thousand more propaganda holos, can see him a thousand times across a negotiating table or a battlefield, but he’ll not think of anything but this image of Hux, ruined and wrecked, clutching Ben’s cloak close around him, so very vulnerable and alone.
“Thank you,” Ben says. Turns away. Breathes.
After Ben leaves, Hux allows himself the indulgence of curling up in bed and drifting off. He wakes a few hours later, wincing at the sore ache between his legs, his thighs and stomach crusted with dried semen, Ben’s cloak still wrapped around him like a blanket.
He cannot get into the refresher fast enough. He lets the cloak fall to the floor, his teeth gritted as he turns the water all the way up to boiling, scrubbing himself raw as if he could erase the memory of Ben’s touch from his skin. He scrubs harder when he remembers disgracing himself, and the look on Ben’s face when he was done with him. That awful softness, as if Hux mattered to him.
He steps out of the refresher to find a notification on his datapad. Snoke wants an audience with him.
He dresses, making sure his uniform is immaculate, pulling on his gloves and his coat like armor. Thus armed, he leaves the cloak lying on the floor like some sad, diseased thing when he exits his quarters. Later on, he’ll get a cleaning droid to get rid of the stained sheets, destroy the cloak, and then wipe its memory bank clean. No one else would know about this but Snoke and him.
The holoprojection of Snoke is already waiting for Hux when he arrives. The Supreme Leader looks pleased, though with his twisted, deformed features it’s hard to tell. Hux salutes him. Leaves his thoughts open, long years of practice enabling him to suppress his flinch of pain when Snoke sinks into his thoughts.
Sweat stands out on Hux’s forehead when he feels Snoke meticulously peeling through layers of thought and memory, an instinctive, animal part of him fighting to curl up and protect itself, cradle the memory of last night and hide it away. Hux brutally silences it himself, stepping back and allowing Snoke to do what he wished.
Finally, Snoke is done, and he lets Hux go. Hux barely manages to stop himself from sinking to his knees, gasping for breath, sickness roiling in his belly.
He carefully does not think about the cloak lying on his bedroom floor, or the gentle press of Ben’s mind against his.
Snoke looks satisfied as he leans back in his throne. “Well done, General. You performed admirably in your mission.” His lips twist into a smile. “If I dare say it, you enjoyed yourself immensely.”
Hux flushes red, violently shoving down the sudden sick anger behind his mental shields. “Whatever pleasure I may have derived from such an encounter is inconsequential. All I do, I do for the sake of the Order.”
The words are fervent, the emotion behind them even more so. Snoke’s black eyes gleam.
“Ben Solo’s fall is now unavoidable. I have foreseen it. The New Republic will be destroyed, and the First Order will once more bring peace and prosperity to the entire galaxy. I have you to thank for that, General.”
He’s lying. Hux does not think of anything but the good of the Order as Snoke dismisses him. But the soreness catches him every time he moves, and Ben’s words echo deep inside him, in some new space that Ben had carved out that Snoke can’t reach.
During the last day of the summit, Ben is there, watching him again. Hux ignores him, up until the commencement ceremony, when he feels a phantom hand cup his cheek, the soft press of lips against his temple.
He looks up at Ben. Again he feels the quiet caress of Ben’s mind against his.
It’s going to be all right.