It still feels like summer outside.
Still is summer, technically. But to Hux, summer is home and London and holding himself carefully above the fray, not letting his father’s moods or his mother’s drinking or the people he went to secondary with grab him by the ankle and drag him down. Whereas here, in America, in September, he lets his metaphorical ankles dangle, low enough for American boys to grab at.
Although Ben Solo’s the only one who’s managed to grab them and pull him down, like an anchor.
Last semester, Ben had said he would miss him, when he’d watched Hux pack up his things and driven him to the airport. Ducked his head to look at Hux from under his brows and his shaggy hair, so intensely that Hux was sure Ben was going to kiss him goodbye. He was disappointed when Ben didn’t.
But if the way he’s asleep and drooling on Hux’s chest right now is any indication, he’d actually meant it, which is an idea too terrifying for Hux to contemplate without another cigarette.
Ben’s dorm is nonsmoking, but Ben’s opened the window and stacked pillows to let Hux sit up, leaning against the windowsill Ben’s twin bed is pushed up against under, and breathe smoke onto the quad.
It’s a ground floor room, and the bright sunshine outside is making the quad look supernaturally green. There’s a drone of a plane overhead and he can hear the occasional bird. Inside of Ben’s room, everything is a little dim and hazy with the blinds drawn, as if they’re in a cavern. Hux is still jet-lagged.
Ben stirs on Hux’s chest. He stares up blearily at Hux, face a little dazed and stupid. “What time is it?” Ben asks.
“I have no idea,” Hux answers, pleased. The semester begins next week, but it feels like they’re the only two people on campus.
Ben grunts and nods, pushing himself up on his hands to shift his weight to lie on his side next to Hux, throwing a pleasantly heavy forearm over his chest.
“I can see your nipple through your shirt,” Ben remarks. He thumbs it. Hux’s nipple pebbles underneath the pressure, and Hux squirms a little. He shifts, taking another drag off of his cigarette. They lay like that in near-companionable silence for a little bit—drag, turn, exhale, drag, turn, exhale—but Ben won’t leave his nipple alone and it’s starting to make heat prickle up and down his body, radiating out from Ben’s touch.
“What are you doing?” Hux asks.
“You like having your nipples touched,” Ben says, as if explaining the obvious.
So Ben had noticed. Hux honestly hadn’t known himself until Ben Solo entered the picture last spring, with his big hands and and his big mouth and his penchant for groping and squeezing Hux like a ripe fruit. Hux might have been offended by the manhandling if he didn’t like it so much.
“Mmm,” Hux says noncommittally. Ben nuzzles against his chest, against the other one, and the weak heat that’s been hovering at the edge of his senses just from smelling and touching Ben again after three months apart begins to coalesce in his groin. Hux sighs, smoke pluming from his nostrils, as Ben gently draws slow, steady, unhurried arousal out of him. Jetlag’s knocked his sense of time loose. He imagines laying here forever, Ben’s bulk pressing into his side.
And then Ben turns his head in and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his nipple over his shirt and he groans, cock twitching. Ben’s hand slides slowly down his body to between his legs, cupping Hux’s stirring erection firmly. “You really like having your nipples touched,” Ben says, almost in wonder, which would feel patronizing if Ben didn’t start to coax him harder, rubbing his hand up and down his length over his clothes.
“Shit,” Hux swears quietly, against the stem of his cigarette. He closes his eyes and swallows. The sound is immense in his head. He feels Ben’s weight shift on the mattress and opens his eyes to find Ben bent over him, his knees planted on either side of Hux’s. He’s wearing shorts—they both are—and the fullness of his thighs where the hem rides up catches Hux’s eyes immediately.
Which is why it catches him off-guard when Ben pushes Hux’s t-shirt up to his collarbone, exposing his stomach and his nipples. Hux flushes, and covers the blush by taking another drag of his cigarette. The room is far too quiet and he feels exposed like this, Ben peeling him open without even thinking, inviting himself in.
Ben’s good at that, and, despite himself, Hux likes it.
“I thought about this all summer,” Ben says, voice low and sudden in the quiet of his room. Hux is looking up at him, but there’s something vulnerable about the cant of his head and the way he’s barely looking Hux in the eye. Before Hux can identify it, however, Ben shifts on his elbows and lowers his head to Hux’s chest.
Over his shirt, Ben’s mouth had just been warm. On his skin, though, it’s hot and slick, like Ben’s mouth is watering justfor him, and Hux groans at the idea of it, cock straining at the crotch of his shorts. Ben isn’t the first boy he’s fooled around with, not by a long shot, but he’s the only one who’s ever looked at Hux like he wants to eat him whole.
Ben traces his tongue artlessly over Hux’s chest before licking a stripe over his nipple, and Hux arches a little into it. Ben laughs, the deep sound reverberating against his chest, and Hux suffers another wave of heat. His hand is starting to shake.
“Oh, God,” Hux says, as Ben sucks at his nipple, the ring of his lips soft and wet against his skin. He’d reach down to stroke himself if he wasn’t covered by Ben, so he lets his head loll back instead, staring out at the sky. The quad is silent and the light is glaring, wind rustling the overgrown grass a little. He’s almost outside. He could pretend. Pretend that Ben’s doing this to him where anyone might see what Ben does to him.
“You like that?” Ben asks. “You like me sucking on your tits?”
Hux scoffs, throwing an arm over his eyes to try and hide how red that makes his face, how much it makes his cock throb.
“Can you come from this?” Ben asks, and his earnest curiosity makes Hux feel more embarrassed and aroused than actual filth. “Can I make you come from this, just from this?”
“I—I don’t know,” Hux says. He uncovers his eyes, stubs out his cigarette, and tosses the butt out the window before something stupid—or something stupider than letting Ben Solo try to make him come with his head hanging out the window, where practically anyone could see, if there was anyone to see, by sucking on his tits—happens. “I’ve never tried.”
“If I were you, I’d try all the time,” Ben says. He sounds a little intoxicated. “I wouldn’t be able to stop touching myself.”
“You barely manage that anyway,” Hux retorts, but Ben dives back down to suck and kiss and—
scrape his teeth over his nipple. Which is too much for such sensitive flesh, and Hux grunts in pain. The sound carries outside, and that makes him sag with arousal even as he yanks on Ben’s hair to pull him off.
Ben stutters such an aroused groan at the rough treatment that Hux files away that for later. “What do you think you’re doing?” Hux demands.
“I told you, I thought about this!” Ben says defensively. “I saw it in a porno.”
“You were doing research?” Hux asks, incredulous at the idea of Ben pausing in the middle of jerking off to porn to think about him.
Ben doesn’t answer. Instead, he presses his lips together and ducks his head. Covering his teeth with his lips, he captures Hux’s nipple between them. He rolls it back and forth experimentally, before tugging ever so slightly at it.
Hux groans, Hux ruts his aching cock against Ben’s broad, firm stomach. He’s leaking into his underwear and the edge of his world does not extend beyond the four corners of this bed.
“Oh fuck oh fuck,” Hux chants under his breath, panting for breath.
“I’m going to make you come,” Ben promises.
“You did,” Hux groans out.
“Last time—last time, when you figured it out, that’s why—that’s why I came,” Hux pants.
“Oh, fuck, Hux,” Ben whines, and the shitty bed frame groans like Ben’s grinding his hips against the mattress because he likes that idea so much.
Hux’s hand finds the back of Ben’s head. He fists his hand in Ben’s dark, unruly hair and presses him against his chest as Ben opens his mouth, sucking and licking and kissing like he can’t decide what to do other than get his mouth all over Hux’s sensitive chest. Tension starts to creep into his arousal; the beginning of the end.
“Ben!” Hux nearly yelps as Ben nips at the sensitive, untouched crease of his arm, before slapping his hand over his mouth to cover the sounds he can’t stop making. The window’s still open, a stripe of sun is still warm on his forehead.
He’s being feasted upon, he thinks, and anyone could know. Ben’s mouth slips south.
Hux digs his nails into the meat of Ben’s shoulder. “I’m—” he warns, and nearly sags in defeat when Ben lifts his head and looks at him, eyes unfocused and amorous and intense. He squeezes his own eyes shut. It’s too much. Ben is always too much.
Too much of exactly what Hux wants.
He feels Ben’s hands tug his shorts open and down past his hips, taking his underwear with them. He hisses as his erection is finally freed, bobbing up in the scant space between their bodies. Ben makes a sharp, wanting sound, and Hux opens his eyes to find Ben staring at the pale expanse of his exposed body.
Hux swallows and squirms, feeling much filthier with his shirt rucked up and his shorts tugged down than he would naked. Or maybe it’s that Ben always makes him feel this dirty. This wanted.
“I thought about this too,” Ben mutters, cheeks red, and Hux stares, eyes wide, as Ben leans down and takes the head of his leaking cock into his mouth. Several thoughts bombard him all at once. But none of them resolve properly. because the sight of his own cock sinking past Ben’s full lips makes him come almost immediately, eyes falling shut as he arches his back and lets out a long, extended moan as he spills into Ben’s hot, wet mouth.
Ben makes a choking sound and pulls off, coughing and spluttering. Hux catches a glimpse of white in his mouth, more splattered across his cheek. The fact of it being his own come on Ben’s face makes him suffer a weak, vague wave of desire. Ben pants, swallows, and collapses next to Hux on the mattress, as if he’s already come. Hux, still shaking, can tell he hasn’t, though; Ben’s erection is obvious through his shorts.
“Hux,” Ben says quietly, in a low, needy tone that still thrills Hux despite how sluggish and sated he feels. Ben’s lying on his back, looking up at him, and Hux kicks off his tangled shorts before rolling onto his side. Hux slips his hand underneath the waistband of Ben’s shorts and seeks out his mouth with his own.
This is the way Ben’s liked it best ever since the first night he crashed in Hux’s dorm and kissed him with too much teeth. Hux slowly stroking him off as they kiss, until Ben starts moaning into his mouth, the sound reverberating through his own head.
Ben grunts into his mouth when he comes, tensing as if he’s been punched in the stomach. Hux withdraws his wet hand from Ben’s shorts, wiping it off on said shorts, and rolls onto his back.
The shadows have lengthened a little, but it still looks like clear afternoon outside—it’s still all oversaturated sunshine and the faint noises of birds in the trees. Hux takes a deep breath and relaxes against the mattress, too sated to even care that he’s half naked underneath an open window.
Ben rouses a few minutes later, lifting his head just enough to butt it against Hux’s shoulder. “You taste like smoke,” Ben says, making a face.
“You taste like come,” Hux replies.
They fall silent after that, drowsing in the cool dimness of Ben’s dorm. But Ben’s hand finds his, and Hux, for once, finds it back.