The cantina is crowded, air thick with smoke and packed full of shady characters who seem perfectly at home as they gamble and fight and call for more drinks. Ben has plenty of experience with places like this; he’s won enough credits in his life through rigged games of Sarlacc to make his uncle Chewie proud. He’s shared drinks, sang bawdy songs as his cousin Rey looked on in disapproval with folded arms and a dark scowl. He can navigate these crowds easily, letting them think he’s one of them until it’s no longer useful and he can return to his life as General Leia Organa’s treasured son.
Tonight isn’t about drinks or songs or credits. Tonight is about the Resistance, about finally being useful to the cause. They’ve received word that information waits for them in this particular cantina, a place that, despite its dubious nature, has thin ties to the rebel cause. Leia can’t exactly walk in and demand everyone bend to her will, and despite his uncle Luke’s skill in the Force the Jedi aren’t really trusted these days. So that leaves Ben, smooth-talking and willing to slum it for the cause.
He slides up to the bar, wedged between a Twi’lek and a scrappy looking Falleen in purple robes as he waves the bartender over. “Gimme a talmog,” he says, just loud enough to be heard. He’s never been a huge fan of the stuff, but it’s a trick he learned from Lando just after he was old enough to start drinking. Stick with stuff you don’t really like. That way you won’t drink too much and lose your senses.
He needs his wits about him tonight.
When the bartender returns Ben takes a slow sip, wincing at the sweet and somewhat chemical taste. “I’m expecting someone,” he calls over the noise, slipping the man a hefty tip to loosen his tongue. “Anyone mention waiting for ‘Ben?’”
The man shrugs a shoulder, looking down at the glass he’s cleaning. “Might’ve. I’d check upstairs. Third room on the left.”
Ben grins and nods, adding to the bartender’s “tip” before throwing his drink back and sliding off his seat. He rests the empty glass on the bar and heads upstairs. The staircase is just as old and rickety as the rest of the place, but when he reaches the second floor things seem to get a bit nicer. The hallway is much cleaner than the bar downstairs, and through open doors he spies tidy rooms that must be reserved for patrons with extra money and the desire for a quick fuck.
He finds the door he’s looking for halfway down the hall. A quick knock against solid wood yields no response. With a deep breath he grabs the handle, relieved when it turns without resistance and the door swings open.
“That was easy,” he mutters, stepping in and kicking the door shut behind him.
“Almost too easy, don’t you think?”
Ben sighs, shoulders sagging. “Damn it.”
He turns to see General Brendol Hux of the First Order sitting on the bed, propped against the headboard as he drinks what appears to be a simple red wine from a hazy goblet. Well below his usual standards. He’s oddly dressed down, wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with a low neckline over gray pants. His feet are bare, but scuffed black boots sit unlaced at the foot of the bed. It makes sense. He wouldn’t have made it far in a place like this dressed in his usual standard issue Order uniform. Not with the thieves, rogues and assassins hanging out downstairs.
Ben untucks his blaster from the waistband of his slacks, training it on the man lounging in the stark white sheets covering the bed. “What the hell do you want?” His blood boils at the idea of being tricked into this meeting, like hell he’s going to let Hux utter a single word without a blaster pointed in his stupid smug face. “Was there ever a sympathizer here to meet me?”
“No. No Ben, there wasn’t.” Hux laughs, crawling to the edge of the bed and sitting on his knees. “You should put that down before you drop it.”
Ben frowns, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I...shit.” Before he even finishes his sentence his vision starts to blur, going cloudy and soft around the edges like he’s standing in a thick fog. He doesn’t notice that Hux has taken the blaster from him and delicately set it on the nightstand. “You son of a…”
“Ah ah, sh, remember your manners,” Hux cooes, pressing an elegant finger to Ben’s lips. The words have barely left his mouth before Ben slumps forward, out cold.
He wakes up with his limbs splayed out over the bed and a pounding ache somewhere in the back of his skull. He’s propped up against the headboard, wrists tied firmly to the wooden slats on either side of his head. His shirt is gone, leaving him bare from the waist up. He sighs out a soft “damn it” as he tries to look around the room, fog starting to clear as his wits return to him. “Hux, let me go.”
There’s a soft laugh to his left before Hux strolls into his line of vision. He’s still got wine in his hand, which means either he got a new glass or Ben hasn’t really been out that long. He eyes his prisoner appraisingly as he sits on the edge of the bed, reaching forward to set his drink down. “You look good like this.”
Ben rolls his eyes, twisting his head to look at his bound wrists. The bindings are a simple rope with rough fibers that cut into his skin every time he tugs too hard. Ben is almost a disappointed in his lack of ingenuity. Hux hasn’t really pulled out the expected stops. “I look good all the time. Going to tell me what this is all about?”
The bed dips as Hux moves closer, stopping to kneel at Ben’s side as he reaches out to stroke the bare skin of his chest. “What, did you not miss me?”
Ben shivers slightly, eyes flickering down to Hux’s pale hand before moving back to study his face. “What are you doing?” A thrill sparks low at the base of his spine. Ben tries to ignore it.
There’s another shift as Hux swings his leg over, settling down to straddle Ben’s lap. “Only what you’ve been too afraid to do yourself.” He doesn’t lose the challenge in his gaze as he leans down, face mere inches away from Ben’s. He scrapes his teeth over a pink bottom lip, eyes drawn to Ben’s mouth. “I’m making you mine.”
Ben tries to avoid his gaze, throat working fitfully as he swallows. There’s no pulling away, no freeing his arms to push the General onto the floor and make a run for it. All he can do it stare in vague disbelief as he tries not to think too hard about the way his heart is pounding in his chest. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Some have suggested it,” Hux says, shrugging an elegant shoulder. He closes the gap between them and presses their mouths together in a kiss. It’s...not what Ben would have expected. Better, really. In his deepest, darkest fantasies he’s always pictured Hux as the sort of man to kiss you until your lips are bloody and swollen, tugging with sharp teeth until the act is more pain than pleasure. This kiss is slow, sticky-sweet and dangerous. It feels like something he could get drunk on. Addicted to.
Hux pulls away, nipping at Ben’s bottom lip. “You don’t seem to be protesting.”
Ben’s head is spinning and there’s a tell-tale stirring low in his gut that he wishes he could ignore. “Maybe you’re good for a fuck, if nothing else.”
Something dark and dangerous flashes in Hux’s eyes. “Perhaps.” He slides off Ben’s lap, reaching over the bed and digging around til he finds a small bottle of lube. It’s tossed carelessly near Ben’s shoulder as Hux reaches for his pants. “And perhaps all you need to wipe that smug look off of your face is to be fucked senseless.”
Ben scowls. “I top.”
Hux laughs. “Not today, you don’t.”
He gives a firm tug, working Ben’s pants over his hips and down his thighs before getting them off completely. Ben’s cock is already half-hard, thick against his thigh as he’s exposed to the cool air and Hux’s ravenous gaze. The General licks his lips, unashamed in how he drinks in the sight before him. “My goodness, Mr. Solo.” He wraps long fingers around his length, stroking up until the foreskin covers the head before rolling it back down. His lips quirk into a grin as Ben’s breath hitches in his throat. “Mm? Good?”
Ben shrugs as though a definite flush isn’t spreading across his cheeks and down the center of his chest. “It’s alright.” He chokes out a moan as Hux gently squeezes his cock and strokes up. “Okay okay fine, it’s fucking good, okay?”
Hux laughs, eyes bright as Ben swells and lengthens in his grasp. “Such a big boy, aren’t you? When’s the last time you’ve been fucked, Ben?”
Unable to bite back a whine, Ben thrusts up into the touch. “I. Uh. It’s been a while.” Letting someone fuck him is a trust exercise he rarely partakes in. It’s too much, he’s too exposed. It’s like the person above him can see right into his soul as they push deeper, take more. A strange sort of excitement builds in him now, though, as Hux draws away to remove his own pants.
“Well. I’ll try to be delicate,” Hux smirks, rejoining Ben on the bed once he’s undressed. He picks up the lube, clicking the cap open with a swift flick of his thumb. “Knees up, boy.”
Ben rolls his eyes. “Boy. Fuck yo-oooh…” Before he can finish the word a clever finger strokes over his entrance, slicking over his hole before sliding up to massage just behind his balls. The pressure is perfect; his cock twitches happily at the attention, a bead of precome welling at the tip. “O-oh yeah…”
Hux looks up, grinning. “Never let it be said that I’m unkind.” He continues to rub and tease along Ben’s skin, in no real rush to work him open. He’s being surprisingly thorough, fingers dripping with oil, circling the tight ring of muscle as he watches Ben’s face. “Good, darling?”
Ben has his face turned, pressed into his bicep, working his bottom lip between his teeth. “Just shut the fuck up and do it. I said it’s been awhile, not that it’s my first time.” He groans as Hux laughs and does as asked, pressing two fingers into his slick entrance. It’s a bit of a stretch but it’s damn good. Hux is so sure in his touches, thrusting in with smooth movements, coaxing Ben to open around him. Every now and then his knuckles will brush that sweet bundle of nerves, sparking pleasure up Ben’s spine to settle in the back of his mind.
“You’re awfully easy for someone so coy,” Hux teases, drawing his fingers out and working a third in with little resistance. “You’re a bit of a slut for it, aren’t you?”
All Ben can do is laugh breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as he twists his hips and works down on Hux’s hand. “And you’re a bit sure of yourself. Three fingers? That many?” He gasps as Hux removes his fingers and strikes the inside of his thigh, hard enough to leave an angry red handprint, slick with oil. “Fuck!”
“That was low,” Hux says by way of a warning before pressing those same three fingers back in. He works with punishing efficiency now, rubbing the pads of his fingers over Ben’s prostate and pressing against it with lightning-strike movements that leave him gasping for air. Every now and then he’ll wriggle them apart or stroke deeper, until he’s satisfied that Ben is ready.
Ben chokes out a cry, sweat starting to slick his hair to his temples and the back of his neck. “Y-you’re right, sorry. You’re cock is fantastic actually, if I’m being honest. Really just a very excellent cock, well done General.”
Hux rolls his eyes as he withdraws his hand, grabbing the lube and slicking his cock. “You. You talk so fucking much. I wish I’d remember that before setting this all up.”
“Maybe you should have,” Ben agrees, grinning dazedly. He spreads his thighs so Hux can kneel between them, biting his lip as the General runs oil-slick hands over his thighs. “Gonna fuck me until I defect?”
Hux snorts, pushing Ben’s knees up to his chest. “Goodness no. I couldn’t handle having to deal with your mouth anymore than I already do.” He draws in a steadying breath, lining up and pressing the head of his cock in with a slow push. Once he’s past the tight muscle he pulls back out, grinning as Ben moans. “Needy, aren’t you?”
“Just...shut up and fuck me,” Ben sighs, eyes fluttering shut. He lets out a low, hungry noise as Hux slides in once more, this time working himself in and in and in until he’s fully seated in Ben’s tight heat. “O-oh…”
There’s a soft moan as Hux draws out and thrusts back in, movements slow and easy. “So it is possible to shut you up,” he breathes. His eyes are glued to where their bodies connect, watching his length disappear into Ben as he works on finding his angle. It’s surprisingly slow, lacking the aggression that Ben would expect from being jumped and fucked by a man on the opposite side of the war. He hitches a breath as Hux reaches between them, curiously pressing his fingers into Ben’s perineum.
“Fuck,” he swears, soft and low. “Fuck do that...oh yeah…” He groans, head falling back as Hux repeats the action and massages gently. It presses just right against his prostate, pleasure fizzing through his body like that sweet popping candy he used to buy back on Coruscant when he was trying to give up smoking.
Hux sets a steady rhythm, eyes glazed and heavy lidded as he watches Ben’s face. He fucks like he’s got nowhere else to be, like there’s no war threatening to tear the galaxy apart underneath their feet. Like they’ve been doing this for years and they’ll do it for years to come. Ben could get behind that if he weren’t tied to the bed after being drugged and accosted, but the ropes chafing into his wrists remind him that this isn’t that story.
“Come on,” he growls, wrapping his long legs around Hux’s waist and trying to urge him closer. “Come on, you worked so hard to put this all together and this is what you’re going to give me?” He rolls his hips in a fluid motion, smirking as Hux gasps and snaps his hips in. “There you go. C-come on, give it to me.”
There’s a broken sound from somewhere low in Hux’s throat, a sort of desperate moan as he grips Ben’s thighs and thrusts in hard. His fingers are deceptively thin; they’re strong enough to bite into his flesh and promise bruises for Ben to find later, to press into with his own fingers as he relishes in the sting.
He should not look forward to the marks Hux will leave behind. He shouldn’t be so eager to revisit them, revisit this, in his mind.
Hux derails his train of thought by shifting his angle, cock rubbing firmly against Ben’s prostate with every snap of his hips. He’s losing his composure - it’s odd seeing his usually perfectly-styled hair falling into his forehead, strands of copper that stick to his skin. His face is flushed pink, and Ben is drunk on the way the rose flush travels down his neck and over his chest, particularly bright at the tips of his shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasps before he can bite the words back into his trembling throat.
At that Hux’s eyes go wide, his rhythm faltering. He surges forward, crushing their lips together in an act that’s more biting than kissing. “Shut up,” he growls, thrusting furiously as Ben keens and rocks up to meet him. “Just. Shut the fuck up.”
Hearing him slur profanity flips a switch Ben didn’t know he had. He grits his teeth, back arching as he grinds up into a thrust. “Yeah? Gonna make me?”
He’s not sure what he expected, but what he gets is two of Hux’s fingers forced past his lips and shoved deep into his mouth. He gags for a moment as his tongue fights the intrusion, but soon he’s able to relax and suck hungrily at the digits. His eyes are dark as he looks up, tongue swirling over skin, trying to take more as Hux starts to lose his carefully constructed composure.
Hux rolls his eyes, withdrawing his hand. He moves them instead to Ben’s nipple, circling the bud with his slick fingers. “What?”
Ben licks his lips, swallowing hard and willing his stupid, sluggish tongue to speak. “Come in me,” he rasps, the words coarse and unrefined for someone as lovely as Hux is. Still, it does the trick. The General braces his hands on the mattress and thrusts in with abandon, soft moans and grunts falling from parted lips as he abuses Ben’s body. When Ben gives a particularly hard tug on his restraints, headboard slamming against the wall, Hux cries out and spills into the body below him.
“P-please, Hux, I’m so hard,” Ben moans, trembling under the effort of not just breaking the stupid bed and getting his revenge. The furniture is saved by Hux’s slim hand wrapping around his cock, stroking with firmly, quick thrusts.
“You’re a halfway decent fuck, Solo,” Hux rasps, licking his lip. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers massaging firmly behind Ben’s balls. “Too bad you’re such a terrible fuck up, you could really be of decent use to me.”
“What, as a concubine?” Ben chokes, eyes fluttering shut.
He can practically hear the smirk in Hux’s voice when he speaks. “You said it, not me.”
There’s no room left in Ben for a clever response. There’s no room for anything other than the overwhelming feeling washing over his body, pleasure raking through his mind with sharp, sure strokes that leave him trembling and gasping. He doesn’t know how long it takes him to come - could be thirty seconds, could be three months. All he knows is that he’s shouting himself hoarse as he spills onto his own chest and stomach, Hux’s voice somewhere far away as he coos and praises Ben through it.
He’s only given a moment of come-down before reality comes crashing back down. Hux draws away, reaching for a towel hidden somewhere over the side of the bed. “Alright?” he asks, gently wiping Ben down but leaving him tied to the bed.
Ben watches, arms still bound, as Hux reaches into a small bag next to the bed and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He makes a face as Hux lights one and takes a deep drag. “I can’t believe you still smoke those disgusting things.”
Hux turns his head, pointedly blowing a thin stream of smoke in Ben’s face. “Says the man who once practically begged to suck on my toes. I don’t want to hear you talk about gross things in mouths.” He finally reaches up, deft fingers plucking at the ropes until they go slack and Ben’s wrists fall free. “Alright?”
Large hands raise for inspection, turning this way and that as Hux eyes Ben’s arms. All that’s left of their tryst is a light-pink bands around each wrist, the barest trace of rope burn that should be fully healed by the time Ben returns to base. Hux nods his approval as he takes another drag. “Good. Keep your sleeves pulled down and you’ll be fine.”
Ben groans and stretches out before snatching Hux around his waist and pulling him close. “There are easier ways to get me in bed, you know.”
Hux allows himself to be held, though he doesn’t quite relax into Ben’s arms. “Yes, I suppose. But none of them are quite as fun. Besides, anyone looking too deeply into this would see it as a botched kidnapping. I’d rather them think me a failure then know what we get up to.”
“That’s so romantic.” Ben grins, catching Hux’s hand as he tries to swat at him. He pulls Hux close once more, pressing a kiss just behind his ear. “Maybe don’t drug me next time. I’m not crazy about paying for alcohol just to have some goon slip something in it.”
Hux yawns, shaking his head before cuddling close. “So many demands, Mr. Solo. Interrogating you is absolutely draining.”
Ben laughs and closes his own eyes, resting his head against the pillow. In no time at all they’ll have to leave this room and go back to hating each other, go back to their opposite sides of the war until the next time they can find some small corner of the galaxy to hide away in. Not now, though. Because the bed is warm and so is Hux and who knows, maybe this is how the war will be won.