ALIENS MADE THEM DO IT. This one is easy, he thinks. There’s plenty of aliens in the galaxy. Surely one of them can make us do it.
“General Hux, there is a Rodian here. He says we must copulate. He also says I must come first.”
Hux doesn’t understand the reference. Also, he’s a racist.
ALIEN SEX POLLEN. Still got a universe full of weird plants. Maybe if I find out what kind he likes most, he’ll feel amorous? Flowers are traditionally romantic gestures.
Hux turns out to come out in nasty hives if you give him a Rigelian Iris. He doesn’t even say thank you and instead goes missing for two days to get his skin back under control. When he finally re-emerges, Kylo doesn’t even want to talk to him.
ABDUCTION AS SEDUCTION. Finally, something I’m good at. I can kidnap him from the First Order and take him someplace romantic and maybe offer to slip into something more comfortable (mind, pants, whatever).
The General’s first reaction is to scream that the Supreme Leader won’t approve of them running off when they’re so close to completing their latest project. He continues on the theme of wasting resources and time until Kylo growls and makes the pilot steer them back to the Finalizer.
AUCTIONS. Maybe… funds for the new mess hall? The troopers’ morale was always one of those stupid metrics, after all…
“It would increase morale, and–”
“You can sell your own body, Ren. I am too expensive.”
If he thought that Hux would pay, Kylo would sure as hell go through with it. He’s also pretty sure that he has more credits than Hux, so unless the man wants half the galaxy for the privilege of a date, he could so afford him.
BIOLOGICAL IMPERATIVE. Being a ginger isn’t a sub-species, and unless my father was lying, Humans don’t have heat cycles or other such drives to mate. Also, it’s not as if we’re compatible for offspring, so…
He scratches that one out entirely.
BONDING. Note to self: not the same as bondage. Linking, mentally. Being close enough to–
“REN, get your filthy fingers out of my head!”
He’d only been trying to initiate sexy talk in the background of the stupid, dull, boring performance management meeting.
“IT IS NOT BORING.”
It so was.
DISCIPLINE. Soldiers craved that, didn’t they?
Hux took one look at the riding crop and turned around and walked off. Kylo smacked it into the wall until it fell apart. The whole little speech about being a naughty boy had taken him hours to write.
MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE. Okay, so marriage was a little too far, but it might not hurt to mention things like…
“Were you aware of the tax breaks and standard of life changes for long-term coup–”
“I am not marrying you, Ren. Not even for bigger quarters. Besides, I have the best ones on the ship.”
“I didn’t say me.” Pause. “Wait, you think your rooms are better?”
MASQUERADE. Well, maybe if I can seduce him without my own mask, but another one…
“Hi, I’m Matt. I’m a–”
“I know it’s you.”
“MATT. I AM MATT. A RADAR TECHNICIAN.”
“Then you clearly are outranked by me and need to go and technician some radars.”
PRETENDING TO BE GAY. This one works every single time. Every time. Without fail.
“We have to… go undercover.”
“…the Master of the Knights of Ren, and the Supreme Leader’s top General?”
“Don’t we have minions for that?”
SLEEP AND BEDDING ISSUES. If there’s only one bed, then we have to share…
“It seems they have run out of available quarters on this vessel, we will–”
“I’ll share with Phasma.”
“…but she is…”
“She doesn’t snore.”
Tiny fist of rage that Hux already knew.
UNIFORM KINK. Well, he does enjoy those crisp, stark lines. And…
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“MY UNIFORM DOESN’T EVEN FIT YOUR MASSIVELY OVER-GROWN BEANPOLE.”
Kylo almost defiantly tore the too-tight, too-short pants off in front of him, but instead he stormed out with the uniform on and his helmet still covering his face. No one remembered seeing him pass.
WEAPON FETISHIZATION. No one can resist a good lightsaber.
Kylo twirls the unlit hilt around in his hand, showing how flexible and dextrous his grip was. How easily he could handle such a heavy, full cylinder. How he–
“You will put someone’s eye out with that thing. Cut it out.”
Kylo Ren sat, despondent, staring at his Grandfather’s mask. He was close to demanding dating advice from a man who choked his pregnant wife, and that would probably be a step in the right direction. There was a beep at the door, and he muttered for them to come in.
It was Phasma.
“Lord Ren, if you would forgive the impertinence?”
She held out a small holovid, and a tablet with a list of notes. “He enjoys slightly unusual holos, and he has a very refined palate, so the food and drink I’ve listed will be necessary. He also enjoys discussing architecture, particularly when it comes to spaceship interiors. He enjoys music, and dancing.”
“But not me.”
“Not… the way you’ve been trying, Sir.”
“…but… isn’t it supposed to work?”
“Order him over. Have this all ready. Don’t take no for an answer, and don’t wear your mask. Sir.”
Kylo blinks at her. “Anything else?”
“Tell him what you really feel, Sir. And don’t treat him like he’s the same as everyone else in the galaxy. He’s… special.”
And Kylo realises that Phasma might not love him, but she cares for him. Possibly for them both, if she’s prepared to set them up like this. He nods, and mumbles a thank you before dismissing her. He waits a few minutes before reading through the suggested topics of conversation and realising they have quite a few things they could talk about.
Maybe he needed a more… individual touch.