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“Fuck, fuck,” the man exclaims, pulling on his own cock as another unseen man rails into him from behind. It’s one of the shit POV videos, all jerking camera and exaggerated pleasure. “Your cock is – yes! Just like that!”

Hux watches with a grimace as the man comes, likely to the sound of his voice. It’s the second link Ren had bookmarked in an all too innocuous ‘References’ folder, the first leading to a solo camboy that Hux had gotten bored with after finding little more than still pictures of him leaning on things.

He clicks the third on the list, catching the lock in the bar and a cheery Hello, Kylo! at the corner of the page. Hux rolls his eyes, scrolling down and… Oh, it's a woman this time – how exotic. He huffs low in his throat, tapping play and watching as the frames jump into motion, a ginger woman whimpering as she’s plowed into the corner of a green sofa. It’s less outright fake than the man from the last video, her thin chest flushed and heaving, face screwing up into a blissed moue, body visibly tensing the further the video goes on.

Hux raises his brows when she suddenly leans up and shoves back the man, eyes at half mast and climbing on top of him. The man doesn't object in the least, almost mesmerized by it all, especially when she rolls her hips down and rides him with new ferocity.

“Stay still,” she whispers, the sound of her raspy voice almost a surprise. It has curious effect on the man below her, his breath seeming to stop in his chest and obediently ceasing his frantic thrusts upward.

Hux isn’t much for porn, even less so straight porn, but this is… not awful. It’s certainly better than the overdramatic twinks putting on aires of cock worship.

“Good boy,” the woman says, still moving her own hips up and down, pace gradually getting erratic. She leans back with a moan, bright hair falling across her shoulders as she arches her back. “My good boy.”

The woman takes a suddenly heavy breath, eyes falling closed, and… Freezes in place. Hux blinks in surprise, glancing down to find a completed time stamp and an invitation to purchase; he can’t help but feel robbed, especially when he shifts on the couch to find himself near half-mast, which is just uncalled for – he’s hardly ever interested in women and, and this is… this is just… suspiciously narcissistic.

He stares at the woman for a second longer before clicking back and loading the earlier page, finding a banner on the top sporting the screaming ginger twink getting railed by a collage of POV shots, and then clicks back again to find the first thin ginger man staring back with a saucy look. Hux leans back into the sofa, rubbing at his chin with one hand and tapping between the open tabs with his other.

It’s just… Well, it could be a coincidence.

He hesitantly goes for the folder again, tapping at the next link – only to find the preview picture featuring the same thin redheaded woman as the other video, only this time austerely dressed and half-kneeling onto a bed most notably containing her partner. He blinks when he finds the video purchased, and watches a few moments of her gently knotting ropes around limbs with soft whispers of how good her partner looks, but closes the tab before the video finishes, shifting on the couch and trying to ignore his still-growing issue.

He quickly closes the others as well, then the entire window. He's already given into enough temptation for today, and he still needs to do the third pass of the drive and registry before he can say the invasive little worm is gone in good conscious.

Although… He’s home alone, Ren won’t be back for another few hours, and it’s not like he’ll know that Hux – shit. He jerks his hand up and clears the Incognito cache in a few swift clicks, already formulating a plan to say it was to lower the chances of the virus returning if Ren somehow finds out. It definitely won’t stop anything, especially with the likely fact that Ren is also getting his fetish porn from less reputable sites that he hasn’t bookmarked nor fucking subscribed.

Hux stays still for a moment longer before shoving the laptop to his side, not bothering to even close it before seizing at his own cock through thin pajamas. He slowly traces along the shape of himself, enjoying the friction and feeling himself grow harder, and harder, then hastily shoves at his waistband until he can more pleasantly take himself in hand.

He tries to simply get lost in the sensation, concentrating on the quickening pulls of his dick rather than what might happen in that video he refused to watch. It gets frustrating, too frustrating, and he… It's not like it's really his fault if he gives in to fantasy.

It's simply too easy to imagine a pair of pretty brown eyes looking up at him with the same intensity as the woman’s partner, silently begging, muscle tensed with need, but not daring to disobey… Every move hanging on his word. Hux rolls his hips up into his fist, squeezing the head and smearing precome on the next downstroke all the way to his balls, pleasure spiking as he rolls them into his palm; he wishes he’d had the mind to move this to his bedroom, where he could kneel over some toy and better –

He chokes back a gasp, curling his fist and catching his spend just as his cock begins to jerk in his grip. He feels mortified within moments, though more at how quickly he came than that it was here sitting on the couch, in front of a blank television with the soft whir of a laptop fan just next to his side.


 

“Did you fix it?”

Hux swallows a scoff at the rude greeting, raising his eyebrows, “Did you get them?”

Ren rolls his eyes, heaving a sigh and looking down as he shifts his bag from his side to his front. The flap opens to reveal a bright orange three pack of HobNobs, which he drags out with a sigh. “These were fifteen dollars.”

“You could've only gotten one,” Hux says, taking the package and glancing down, running a finger over the shape of the biscuits inside.

“I also got these,” Ren says, pulling out another pack, a single this time, and waving the bright yellow ‘NOW EVEN MORE GINGERY!’ label just under Hux’s nose.

“Mature,” Hux says, reaching out only to watch as the biscuits to get pulled back into a wide chest.

“Nope,” Ren says, “Mine.”

“You won’t even eat them,” Hux says, trying to ignore the whining tone that might be coming from his own mouth.

“I think I could find a place for some Ginger Nuts,” Ren huffs, a smirk twisting wide at the corner of his mouth. He leans forward, as if trying to loom in his ill-fitted jacket and henley, “I bet they have a lot of carbs.”

Hux holds his stare for a long moment, then inhales as he turns on a heel toward the hall to his room. “I’m keeping your computer.”

The pack predictably hits against Hux’s shoulder, and he has to grab them lest they fall to the floor at his side. It wouldn’t do to have it crumble into pieces, especially with Ren refusing to tell him where he buys them.

“What are you doing later?”

Hux sighs, refusing to look back and rolling the biscuits between his hands. “Why?”

It’s not like Ren doesn't know full well Hux hasn't got anything on right now, aside from the tedium of unemployment and the dread for demands of him to go find another job. It has gone conspicuously unmentioned in the last two weeks, ever since Hux walked right past Ren’s desk and out of First Order because of a stupid disagreement.

The damned fool CEO was going to be dead in a few years anyway, he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. 

“I kind of wanted to eat,” Ren says, pausing for a beat, then, “Out.”

“You’re not serious,” Hux says, leaning in on a heel and turning around at the waist. He tries to pretend he’s not currently hugging sweets to his chest, his pride practically wilting into nothing. “I’m not going out – I’m not dressed; I haven’t even shaved in near two weeks.”

Ren is conspicuously quiet for a short moment, then clears his throat, “You don’t need to shave.”


“I haven’t had Indian in so long,” Hux says, looking down the menu with a forcefully restrained sense of glee. The place is a veritable hole in the wall, smelling of curries and mukhwa, the lighting low and the walls covered in cheesy Bollywood posters – it looks absolutely perfect for good food.

“I saw it on my way home,” Ren says, glancing up with a curious sort of haste, “A poster.”

Hux nods shortly, taking a breath to ask why he hadn’t pointed it out, then abruptly remembering exactly why. He exhales and looks back down to frown at the menu, trying not to get stuck back into the whirlwind of how much he’s fucked himself… And instead, actually, refocusing on how Ren seems to want to fuck him – or, at least, a skinny ginger.

“What is good?” Ren asks, “I… I don’t know what a lot of this is – except like meats, obviously.”

“You’d like tandoori,” Hux says, glancing between pages and realizing that Ren’s likely never had mutton, or at least not good mutton. It should be fixed soon enough, but probably not for the first impression of a restaurant, “I assume you want proteins. Unless, of course, you're actually ‘relaxing’ your diet enough for biscuits, then maybe a curry.”

“No, chicken, yeah,” Ren says, flipping his own menu back and forth, though he doesn't seem to be reading it. “I thought you didn’t like chicken?”

“I don’t like your chicken, Ren, and I’m not having the tandoori,” Hux corrects, closing the menu with a quiet snap, setting it on the edge of the table. “I’m having biryani.”

Ren looks up with a frown. “What’s wrong with my chicken?”

“You know it’s awful,” Hux scoffs, reaching for the bread and pulling off a piece for the hummus. “You strip the skin off and don’t even put pepper or salt on it, let alone any real flavor.”

“I have to bulk clean,” Ren says, leaning up in his chair and practically puffing up with offense.

“I’m aware. I could practically write a pamphlet on it,” Hux says, rolling his eyes and watching as the server winds toward them between tables, “But that doesn’t mean you can act like it counts as dinner.”

Ren takes a deep breath, like he’s about to argue, only to freeze when the server clears their throat. He looks up, shoulders curling up to his ears, then sends a darting glance to Hux.

“Excuse me, do you need more time?”

“No, thank you,” Hux says, reaching for Ren’s menu and taking it from his hands, putting it down on top of his own. “I’ll have the lamb biryani, and he’ll have the tandoori chicken.”

The server nods slowly, glancing to Ren for a moment like they expect him to interrupt before ultimately looking down at their small notepad, writing in quick whirls. “The spice is on a level of one to five, five being hottest.”

“Oh,” Hux hums, looking to Ren and catching him mid-grimace, which is answer enough when one knows where to look. “One, for him. I’ll have a four.”

The server leans down and takes the menus with a nod at the table. “Would you like refills?”

Hux glances sidelong for an instant, watching Ren purse his lips, “Not quite yet, thank you.”

The server steps backward with another nod, tucking the menus under an arm and turning on a heel. They pause to grab a few dishes from another table before continuing forward, everything tucked expertly in arm.

“Snoke is trying to make me you,” Ren says, his low voice cut with a sigh. “It's not working.”

Hux blinks a few times, attention drawn back across the table, “What?”

“Taking over development,” Ren says, mouth pinching into a blanched line, jaw tightening; he reaches out and grabs a napkin, flattening it across the table, eyes pitched down as he draws his fingers across the seams, “And like, directing the flow of – ”

“You don’t even have a programming degree,” Hux interrupts, hearing his own voice go near shrill with incredulity. He knows Ren has some accidental experience with Swift and Python, but no real interest. “Who has your job, then?”

Ren looks up to stare for a long moment, blinking a few times. “Me?”

Hux feels his eyes widen further, a few thousand responses flooding his mind and getting muddled with emergent fury, “He expects you to integrate our official roles into a, a what, a single job? And take over management?”

“I guess,” Ren says, glancing down again, then sighing heavily through his nose and slumping down in his chair with a dangerous creak. “You did app development and management, so.”

“Yes, but… I’m different,” Hux says, not quite sure what else to say, if there’s any better way to frame his disbelief as somehow less insulting. He respects Ren’s work, but… It’s just not the same. “The moment anyone realizes the angry, brutal thing is mired in awkwardness, the system will collapse. They won’t respect you.”

Ren narrows his eyes, mouth folding into a sneer. “Thanks.”

“Not to mention, again, that you couldn’t program a bloody Raspberry Pi,” Hux continues, feeling his mouth twist into a furious snarl. “I can’t believe – ”

“Yeah, you can,” Ren interrupts with a low mutter. “You quit.”

“Because that bastard is destroying his own company,” Hux hisses, tempted to actually, physically put his head in his hands. The thing he really can’t believe is that Ren is being shoved into his vacated position, forced to undertake and manage every damned project under the leaky roof of First Order Inc – it's nowhere near the scope of his work. They were stuck together for balance, not redundancy. “It’ll go bankrupt, you’ll catch all the blame for his decisions, never get hired again – we’ll both be fucked, Organa.”

The declaration leads to more silence than Hux expected, and he looks up to find Ren staring with a presumably honest expression of surprise. His hands have curled up on the table top, mouth in a pinched moue, and the intensity in his eyes is honestly discomfiting – almost boring deep under Hux's skin.

“What?” Hux says, growing frustrated at the endless glower.

“You're leaving anyway, aren't you?” Ren sneers, his hands twitching on the table. He looks down for a quick, furtive moment, practically snarling at the artfully vandalized tabletop. “I heard you talking to some Silicon Valley asshole a couple nights ago.”

Hux raises his brows and finds himself inhaling a slow, staggered breath, taking up his tea for something to do while he tries to think. It’s the last thing he expected to hear, but explains why Ren was so intent his laptop be fixed, right now, or why he insisted they eat out, right now; Hux had dismissed it as some belated consequence of his quitting, trying to make up for the lack of pocket-sharing after five years.

“Don't eavesdrop,” he scolds in the end, heaving a sigh that threatens to leave him hollow.

Ren scoffs hard, slamming his hands to the table with a sharp clatter of tea mugs. “That's all you're going to say?”

“Yes,” Hux snaps, because maybe they had offered him a job. They had also wanted him to transfer across the damned country, though, and… he told them he’d think about it. For some ludicrous reason, he feels connected to this icy hellhole of a city.


Hux glances sideways, determined to avoid the eye line of a desperate kiosk salesperson, only to suddenly find himself stopped on a heel and staring, memory striking in the worst sort of way. The spinning display he’d almost tripped over sports a variety of sparkly glosses, a poster of a pouty model on top, and all he can think about is some purplish variety smearing from the lips of that overdramatic twink onto his partner’s cock.

Hux had almost managed to forget for an entire twenty-four hours about the porn, about Ren’s little obsession, but now it’s back full force in the middle of a damned mall, his hand clutched around overpriced soap from the LUSH next door. He’s never even looked twice at this store, despite the overbright lighting and cheery music, but now he’s thinking about going in – for what, because he saw a damned porn star get fucked wearing it?

Granted, they had really looked like they were enjoying their experience with the product. But it’s not a good reason to actually consider it by any measure. He’s just had nothing to do for weeks, feeling unmoored as days go by, and…

And, well, maybe if he is going to take that job offer, he could try for one last stupid thing. It likely won’t amount to anything other than confusing or angering Ren, though that is, as a rule, reason enough to do anything.

He spins the display, looking for a color that might be more subtle than not – it wouldn’t do to truly emulate said porn star – and finds a pale, shimmery pink with the rather embarrassing title of ‘baby doll. He takes a deep breath before plucking it out of the carrier, feeling a mortifying flush at the back of his neck as he winds his way to the counter at the back.

He probably could’ve stolen it, and easily, but now he’s come too far in and they definitely see him by their patented customer-service smiles. He could turn and – no, he has absolutely no clue what any of this is; he doesn’t think he could even fake knowing about anything here.

“Hello!” A cashier greets, leaning across the high counter and smile widening as they look down Hux, tilting their head, “You finding everything okay?”

“Yes,” Hux says, setting the gloss very firmly down on the counter. He’s not looking to be patronized, just checked out as quickly as possible, no questions or curiosities about him.

“Great color,” the cashier says, looking at the label after ringing it up, then pulling out a small bag from under the table. “Perfect for a redhead with a mouth like yours.”

Hux stares for a moment, hand held out with card between his fingers, and realizes the last thing he expected today was to get hit on – below even buying the makeup. “Thank you?”

“Would you like some samples of a similar color?” They turn on a heel and gesture at a wall of small containers, hand pausing near a more toned batch in the middle, “I think you could pull off a paler pink, maybe a light nude.”

Hux glances over the rack and shrugs tightly, mostly to himself, only to blink and wish he could take it back when the cashier beams back with a bright smile. He watches with a sense of impending woe as they pull a receipt without asking, scrawling something down with a dulled marker.

“Have you ever looked into Redhead Revolution?” the other asks, reaching past their coworker and taking the bag, dropping a few round containers alongside the lip gloss.

“No,” Hux says, keeping an eye toward the visibly expanding weight under all those samples. He’s thankful for the support and all, but he’s really only interested in this one thing for a stupid idea.

“It’s a whole brand for redheads,” they say, rolling up the sack and putting what is likely meant to be a cat-eared fold on the edges.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Hux says, resisting a rude urge to reach out and snatch the bag; he’s paid, it’s all been wrapped up, just let him go before the other cashier has a chance to embarrass all three of them.


The apartment is still empty when Hux gets back, more expected than not at this point, and he slumps into the couch with a half-hearted sigh. It’s too quiet at this hour, giving the impression like he’s the only person in the entire building despite the impossibility of it.

He manages to resist a few cursory minutes before he lifts the lid of Ren’s laptop, proud to see that it only takes a minute or so to boot, as it should, and logs in with Ren’s mildly surprising password – Crookshanks. He triple checks to start the browser in Incognito before opening the folder back up, skipping down past the names he recognizes to tap at the next particularly embarrassing title: The Wedding Jackers.

The front card and the tags makes it pretty clear it’s only barely a parody, and with two parts and 13% rating, less than a thousand views, it is… probably really awful. He clicks play all the same, not too invested in actually getting off so much as satisfying curiosity; granted, he rationalized the same yesterday.

The video seems to begin right at the middle, two men walking down a street and seemingly joking with each other before it soft cuts into them in some sort of clothier. It goes on for literal minutes with little more than PDA – a few suggestive touches, no kissing – until they part ways when the blond sits down on a dressing stool.

“Pants first?” The brunet gives a significant once over of the blond, leaning forward on his toes. He reaches out, plucking at the blond’s collar and popping a button, “Shirts?”

It almost seems like it might lead somewhere, at least until the blond gives a stiff shrug and a breathy sigh, rolling his eyes melodramatically, “I don't know.”

Hux watches in disbelief as the brunet actually nods and turns toward a display of dress clothes. He glances up to the header, but no, it definitely still has a cleverly stylized cock and bollocks in the logo. He’s certain something must happen, but it’s really – aha, a pretty, buxom salesperson has appeared, drifting in from the back. It must be some sort of threesome.

They slow to a stop in front of the blond, tilting their head and letting shiny hair fall down their shoulders, “You need any help, hun?”

Hux raises an eyebrow, leaning in on an elbow and waiting for the salesperson to drop to their knees. They’re not a redhead, no one here is unless pubic hair reveals a dye job, but none of the three particularly ugly.

The camera sweeps over to frame the two men on their corner of the store, as if to purposely isolate them from the salesperson. The sitting man shrugs with little more than a twitch, blonde fringe falling in his eyes when he glances down to his feet, refusing to answer and clearly avoiding any more interaction. He doesn’t even look up when the brunet approaches from the racks, stepping between him and the curious salesperson.

“He’s fine,” the brunet says, answering the question for the blond like it’s second instinct and handing the trousers over to him without looking, then laying a hand across his shoulder. “Just not quite ready to purchase.”

Hux stares as it goes on, feeling something prickling at the back of his mind, distracted completely even as the woman reveals her tits only to get rebuffed, forced to masturbate at the cash register. It doesn't even really click until the hard cut back to the men, brunet now pulling at the blond’s jacket and insisting he change.

Oh, good lord… It's fucking them, well not them, but certainly parts played over the past years. He's somewhat surprised that Ren feels so little shame of it, to search out and bookmark multi-part videos of excruciatingly boring porn that even Hux is too impatient to sit through. It’s more of a badly acted film than any measure arousing, and he skips through to find an exhibitionist element that feels really more of an afterthought even as they start sucking cock in a dressing room.

The following part is much of the same – an awful narrative that goes through the brunet gently controlling the blond, some barely kinky sex, more denied masturbating bystanders, all leading abruptly up to a crashed wedding and more exhibitionism. It's not even interesting in an art house way, as much as Hux watched ten minutes of a seventy minute program, but…

He closes the tab with a piqued exhale, staring at the new tab screen and realizing he might be delving a little too deep. He expected a weakness for pretty gingers and found what might be a goddamn lifestyle, and one he's seemingly been actively, if unknowingly, participating in for years.

He’s a little angry, actually… Generally, he's guessing, it's the partner whose life is being controlled that gets coerced into it, but no, not here. Or, well, it is likely equally his fault; he doubts many other people would've looked at a man the size of, of the temper of Ren Organa, and started telling him what to do.

Hux isn't even sure when it started… No, he knows it was around the time they moved in together, after he single-handedly dealt with a number of Ren’s billing debacles, but he doesn't know when it got so bad. The routine isn't justifiable, per say, but Ren gets so frustrated if he stumbles over simple things, embarrassment consequently manifesting in new expenses when self-effacing temper steps forward, and Hux can either sit there, watching the pitiful display, or do it for him and avoid it. He never thought it might count as a thing.

He clicks the window closed, trying to ignore the niggling at the back of his mind. He could watch the other videos, find his own and replace them, or even imagine what it would be like to dress a complacent Ren in whatever clothes he'd like…

No, he's not going to give into the damned awful video. He probably won't even be in the same city as Ren in a month’s time, let alone trying to get him to stop dressing like an oversized mortician.

Hux takes a deep breath and shuts the laptop, shoving it into its place between between the couch cushions. He glances down to his wrist, absent at first, only to find himself caught for a few moments longer until the screen dims and the time disappears from sight.

He twists over to look at the microwave, just in case, but finds it in just as much agreement. It’s half six, which is… late. Very late.

Ren is meant to be back at six, maybe a little later, but it's never this late. He might be working longer, but since he's texted the entire two times he’s had to do that, it's unlikely to be from choice. It leads Hux to pretend he's not wringing his hands, phone at the counter in front of him so he doesn't call after a grown man like a panicked mother.

Ren finally shows up another fifteen minutes later, his jacket crumpled and bag hiked up under his arm. He's a little wet from rain, but otherwise unharmed, which replaces the worry with an urge to strangle.

“I lost my pass,” Ren says, slowly dropping his bag onto the counter. “I had to walk.”

“Ah,” Hux says, dropping his hand from his hip with a forced shrug. He near has to bite his lip to keep from saying more, to keep from meddling, and it becomes especially difficult when he catches Ren’s eyes.

Ren is seriously looking at him with a conspicuous hurt at the affected apathy, and Hux is feeling equally disappointed in himself for pretending not to pick up on it. He can't believe it took porn to realize he's enabled a grown man to regress into a bloody infant by being a control freak. Or that said man might only be looking to get off as some twisted consequence.

Hux didn't hold Ren’s hand for everything before he moved in and he's definitely not going to be able to when he moves out. He needs to…

An idea suddenly forms in his mind, eclipsing his thoughts like an anxious moon: Ren will just find someone else.

Hux will go to California, and another person will slip in to order pizza and take care of bills. They’ll meet Ren after work, make sure he's got his bus pass, until slowly they're all he thinks about, all he looks forward to at the end of the day.

It could even be that pretty domme in at least three of those bookmarked videos, of the site he's paid money for at some point; Ren might meet her, she might indulge him because of course she does, he's a challenge, and five years later for them is a kid and a suburban house.

Hux might look him up online, alone and miserable, and find they've got an obnoxious joint Facebook that features a profile picture of Ren’s staring at her with stars in his eyes. He recalls Hux as little more than an awful, manipulative roommate that wouldn't even remove a virus without biscuit payment.

Oh, but what if, another part of Hux prompts, you started overreacting?

“Hey,” Ren says, leaning up and forward until he’s bumping into Hux, jostling him out of his thoughts, “You're thinking too hard.”

“Shut it,” Hux says, lifting a hand and shoving him back from the chest, trying not to linger on the muscle underneath that ill-fitted dress shirt, then deciding no, he is going to do exactly that; in fact, he's even going to grope slightly before letting up, watching Ren twitch in surprise. “Just trying decide if a text will work, or if I'll have to actually call you. I can’t afford to have you late for everything.”

He's weak, it seems, to the improbable futures behind his eyes. The words said aloud ease a foolish tension from his own chest, and he watches something similar melt away from Ren’s shoulders.

“I'm not an idiot,” Ren says, acting put-upon with a scoff and an eye roll toward the kitchen. “It's probably in my desk.”

“Sure it is,” Hux says, raising his brows and blinking back in a manner he hopes is appropriately scornful, “Just next to those concert tickets.”

Ren looks back with an outraged snarl. “Are you ever going to shut up about that!”


Hux puts together a hasty strategy at the glaring light of the mid-morning sun, catching the date and knowing he’s going to have a call from Starkiller’s recruiter. He drags the cat-eared bag from under a carefully placed jacket, hiding it within the folds of clothes on the way to the shower and resigning himself to getting his money’s worth. The whole elaborate preparation feels like the realization of playing a part, fulfilling a role like he's the one in the video, but finally letting himself be aware of how deep it goes into their unlikely reality.

He's always been a little attracted to Ren, he still remembers what he'd looked like at their first meeting, with his grimacing smile and overlong hair, the unprofessional faux-vintage Misfits tee, but back then Hux had refused to let it go further than that; at first, they argued too much, worked together too close, then it was the matter of how stupid it would be with a roommate who had the perfect place, who was ostensibly uninterested.

They even used to go out and bring people home, early on when they both tried to pretend normal bachelorhood. He remembers most of Ren’s pulls as vapid, though one in particular still needles his memory, a lanky thing that from the start of the night pushed Ren around with thin hands, laughing in his ears and tactlessly ordering him increasingly ridiculous drinks. They had even, at one point, pulled a tipsy Ren into the thin cradle of their chest, a ludicrous sight from where they were on his lap.

Hux had tried for his own, but his mind hadn't been in it, and he'd woken alone the next morning to muffled conversation, quiet laughter. He'd dismissed it at the time as envy for Ren managing a partner when he couldn't, but that hadn't been it – they had been a threat, if just for a few hours.

Even now, a couple years on, Hux is reluctant to his own jealousy as he spins a thin plastic bottle between his fingers. He has no idea what he’s doing, least of all how, but now he’s spent actual money he doesn’t have on something that he’ll never wear out of the apartment. And maybe not even in it. He shaved though, his face smooth and tingling, and it would be an additional waste of energy not to even try.

He takes a deep breath and cracks the seal, pulling out the applicator with a wary eye toward the bright spot of pink. It looks like too much, too vivid, but he still slowly brings it forward in the mirror like he’s seen countless other people do, slowly tracing out his own mouth. 

It’s not too bad. His lips are noticeably pinker, even shimmering in the cool light of the bathroom, but the gloss doesn’t look nearly as out of place as he’d worried – he certainly doesn’t look so lewd as the cam boy. He hums and recaps the tube, looking down and realizing with a single glance he’s got nowhere to put it, ultimately sliding open a drawer to shove samples and all in with his extra soap.

He looks in the mirror for another moment, still hesitating, then turns around with a sharp inhale of epiphany. It could be too much, but… Ren might not even notice the lip gloss, at least not right away, or soon enough, so Hux drags his shirt back over his head. It’s still damp from his recent shower, and he balls it up and shoves it down into the bottom of the wicker hamper just as he retrieves from the top of the pile an inside-out tee that is two sizes too big, smelling vaguely of sweat and that wolf-y Old Spice.

It’s probably one of his stupider ideas, a bar that was already so recently lowered with the lip gloss. He still turns the shirt right side out and pulls it on, ignoring a decidedly teenage urge to inhale deeply against the collar. He’s already getting far too sentimental about all of this – he doesn’t need to realize that he likes how Ren smells, thank you, even if that spare hint of overpriced vanilla conditioner seems to be like some kind of drug.  

Fuck. He’s really thinking about this now, isn’t he? He couldn’t have found that porn a year or so ago, no, it had to be now, just in time for him to try and… No. It had to be now. If Ren pretends not to notice, or worse, outright rebuffs him, then at least Hux will be able to spare his dignity and leave for the west coast.

He might steal the shirt, though; reparations.

It takes another few moments of pointlessly straightening an already irreparably wrinkled shirt for him to leave the bathroom. He feels like he’s stepping into some sort of performance review, or perhaps onto a stage, though that might be some subconscious effect of the makeup.

Ren is at the counter when Hux cautiously steps out of the hall, scowling down at protein powder and measuring it into his obnoxiously expensive Ninja blender. He grunts something unintelligible as Hux walks by, glancing up for a moment, enough that it’s obvious when his entire body seems to turn to stone.

He remains conspicuously quiet for another long moment, breath noticeably shallow. “Hux?”

Hux makes sure to scoff as he looks up from idling at sink, narrowing his eyes and trying to put on like he’s irritated. “Problem?”

“You – no,” Ren mutters, eyes now blatantly caught at Hux's mouth, pressing his own into at thin, blanched line. “No?”

“Okay,” Hux mutters, raising an eyebrow and blindly for… bread. Bread will do. He makes a show of taking a single slice it out of the bag, trying to ignore the entirely imaginary sensation of eyes crawling down his front.

“You're just – ?” Ren takes a deep breath, falling silent for a long few seconds, then pointedly glances down, “Did Phasma do something with the laundry?”

“Laundry?” Hux repeats, feeling legitimately bemused at the reaction until he realizes how literal Ren is being, and looks downward himself as if surprised to see the profile of a raven stretching across his ribs. “Oh, you mean – No, I just forgot my shirt and took one of yours.”

Ren seems appropriately skeptical, but there’s definitely a ruddiness flushing up his shoulders and neck. He opens his mouth again, then closes it, eyes reflecting off the sun and turning them near gold as he glances up and down a second time.

“It's not as if you're using it,” Hux says, nodding down at Ren’s bared chest and allowing himself to look, really look, for the first time since they’d first moved in together. Before, he'd had a million little reasons to stop himself, but now… Now he knows Ren has bookmarks full of ginger and/or dom porn, which Hux has apparently been feeding into for months, so even if this all ends in nothing, he can fucking look.

“Sure,” Ren mutters, looking back down and nearly knocking over his breakfast gruel with a clumsy swing backward into the thermos; he grabs it with visibly white knuckles, muscle tense all the way up to his shoulder.

Hux turns around to hide a smirk and shoves the bread into the toaster, already feeling guilty for letting it get cold. He’s not going to eat it, his stomach is in knots, but he has to play at some kind of normal to contrast with the otherwise odd circumstances.

He takes a slow breath, planning his next move, and realizes it might be easier to act outright bold. Ren has kept his baser self at bay for who knows how long, so it’ll likely take more than just an out of place shirt to make him act.

Hux glances backward and drags his eyes down the curled form of Ren’s muscled back, a decidedly indulgent thought skating through his mind. He could… It would be even more forward, especially with Ren shirtless; they’re acceptably close for their circumstances, but not the sort for casual touching.

He takes a step forward, more than enough in the small galley kitchen, and reaches out with baited breath to settle one hand across Ren’s lower back just as he pulls at the refrigerator door. He ignores an urge to dig in at the solid swell of muscle, determined to seem as if he’s merely using Ren for balance, and pulls back just as he grabs the half-empty apple juice.

The jug at least makes it to the counter before a hand catches at his shoulder and shoves him backward, not hard enough for him to hit the counter, but definitely enough to unbalance him. He feels an animal sort of pleasure crawl up his neck, a bolt of a heat that has him both surprised and ashamed at himself.

“What the fuck,” Ren snarls, his overlarge fingers curling tight around Hux's arm, “Are you doing?”

“Me?” Hux says, hearing his voice lilt upward and knowing instantly that he’s being much too patronizing, which is unlikely to make this awkward part any smoother.

“You're in my clothes, you're wearing makeup, you’re… touching,” Ren says, his previous clumsy nerves apparently having vanished in the wake of baffled anger. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No,” Hux says, hesitantly reaching up to grab at Ren’s arm, curling fingers around his wide wrist and sliding up to his elbow. He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected this sort of reaction, but he can work with it. “No. I’m just… giving in, I guess.”

“What?!” Ren says, hand loosening on Hux’s shoulder, though he doesn’t make any other attempt to pull back, seems even to lean more forward than away. His eyes dart up and down Hux's face, pausing again at his lips, “I haven’t even tried anything. You don’t –”

“To myself, Ren,” Hux interrupts, in some disbelief at the direction this is going, “Not you. Well, the lip gloss was you – I bought it before I did proper research.”

Ren blinks, seemingly taken aback, “You think I like make-up?”

“Frankly, yes,” Hux says, fairly certain that he has absolutely no idea, if he were being even the smallest part truthful. “I saw your ‘References’ folder.”

Ren furrows his brow with bewilderment in the wake of the admission, silent for a few seconds, then finally seems to realize the implication as he inhales sharply, expression collapsing with shock. “No.”

“Yes,” Hux says, kicking up onto the cupboard at his back with a heel. It feels almost like he’s getting ready to launch himself off, nervousness threatening to cloud his mind and insist he give this up to escape. He's still boxed in, though, and starting to feel far too warm across his cheeks, prompting him to clear his throat, “You’re awfully transparent. It’s all gingers and people getting bossed around.”

Ren takes a few heavy breaths, then lets go as if electrocuted, pulling away from Hux's grip to gesture with a flat, decisive hand. “I just asked you to fix it – I even got you the damned imported cookies.”

“I’m unemployed! I’m bored,” Hux says, crossing his hands over his chest now and rolling his eyes, trying act flippant. He's certain it comes off defensive.

Ren groans low in his chest, eyes rolling as he curls over to near put his face into his hands. He gives a vaguely disturbing, almost hysterical laugh, “You still would’ve done it.”

Hux tilts his head to the side, reluctantly agreeing, if only because he’d quite like to get past this surprise confession phase. It’s not even of the sort that might usually precede sex; granted, it’s not as if he’s got that sort of experience in the first place, so maybe it is.

“You’d be so pissed if I did that to you,” Ren mutters, looking up with a sneer curling at his lips.

“As if I’d give you the opportunity,” Hux says, forcing out a dismissive scoff. He takes a shallow breath, tightening the hold across his own ribs, and feels some indeterminate emotion form words and escape his throat. “Besides, you’ve been using me as some cheap proxy for a-a… I’m not even sure what sort of thing it is – I wouldn’t be surprised to learn this why you volunteered when I lost my flat!”

“No, asshole,” Ren says, taking a half-step forward and very near jabbing Hux in the middle of the chest, loose fingers hovering a hairsbreadth away, tightening into a fist, “I wasn’t even into this shit until you moved in. It’s your fault.”

“Are you really blaming me for your own perversions?” Hux snaps, dragging his lips hard over the sharp of his teeth for a short moment, then grabbing at Ren’s hand and shoving it back down, forgetting to let go a couple seconds too long, “That is just too like you.”

“Like me!?” Ren snarls, his eyes darting across Hux’s face again, furtive, and chewing at his lips as if he’s nervous to linger too long. “I’m not wearing cocksucker lip gloss it at 10fuckingAM, Hux!”

Hux rolls his eyes, refusing to admit to his own nerves, or his desperation to preserve some suspension of disbelief. He uses a single hand to gesture awkwardly into the silence, clearing his throat, “If you’re going to be a coward, you cannot be unhappy with how I do it.”

“But you’re like…” Ren shrugs, looking down for a few moments and visibly shifting his jaw with uncertainty, his overlarge shoulders momentarily curling up around his head. “You’re not even interested in me. My type, I mean. Whatever.”

Hux finds himself speechless for a short moment, then feels a disbelieving scoff forcing its way out his throat. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

“I’ve seen the kind of guys you look at twice,” Ren says, expression twisting into a tight grimace directed just to the left of Hux’s shoulder. “All short. Or wiry. I’m the fucking opposite of both.”

“Please, it’s not as if you’ve ever – ” Hux finds himself pausing, realizing shortly that every one he can recall Ren going for was tall and thin, usually sardonic, not only the one that was overbearing; he can remember dismissing it multiple times as Ren being into spoiled model types, which is now just awkward. “Oh.”

Ren gives a stiff shrug, glancing evasively toward a window with a visible swallow at the base of his throat. He shifts forward in the next moment, shoving back into Hux’s space with his body, hands still balled up at his sides, but the way he does it, so carefully, has him less threatening and far more pitiful.

Hux still exhales in surprise against the unexpected move, reflexively bringing his hands up and finding them across Ren’s shoulders. He chooses not to push back, instead curling his arms to pull Ren in with hands around his nape, using the leverage of his own forehead to make Ren to look back.  

“This was over the top,” Ren says, his face almost entirely made of glower, even as his spread hands find their way across Hux’s hips. “Like everything you do.”

“Ah,” Hux says, swallowing against a nervous ball of energy at the back of his throat. “You had better appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Ren agrees, his expression relaxing, voice little more than a breathy whisper, warm against Hux's lips.

A half shift forward, a minor bump of an errant nose, and Hux parts his lips just as Ren’s mouth presses wide across his own. It's not so fevered as he has ever imagined, nor rough, just a few clumsy drags of sharp teeth, gasps of air breaking them apart after too short seconds.

It seems like time stills between them in the ensuing silence, both lingering close but making no outward move. Hux is sure his pulse must be perceptible even to Ren, with how eager his heart is to escape his chest. He’s not sure how long it’s been since he was this nervous at kissing someone, let alone… A new tension settles in under his skin, prompting him to squeeze urgently at the gentle knob of spine under his hands. “Could you pick me up?”

“Yes,” Ren murmurs, eyes flickering upward for just an instant when he breaks his silence. “Yes.”

Hux exhales a long, slow breath, letting his mouth just barely brush again across Ren’s; a pressure as soft as his voice. “Then do it.”

Ren obeys almost immediately, shifting down and grabbing Hux around the thighs with those big hands and easily lifting him. He makes an odd noise in turn at the swing of legs around his back, quickly pressing an eager, bold kiss along the base of Hux’s throat.

“My room,” Hux says next, lifting his chin and swallowing against the scant drag of teeth, almost failing to keep his voice even.

“Your bed,” Ren murmurs back, sounding very near smug.

Hux doesn't have time to mourn the crisp lines of his duvet as he’s gracelessly dropped to the mattress, too busy shifting as an elbow comes close to crushing his sternum. He reaches out and lightly smacks Ren in the shoulder with the heel of his palm, “Big klutz.”

Ren actually winces, a visible flush bursting across his cheeks as he slumps down onto his back next to Hux. “Shut up.”

Hux feels a huff escape from his throat, turning on his side to reach over and drag the knuckles of his hand down Ren’s ruddy neck. He curls his fingers gently into the stark shape of a tendon, feeling suddenly that he would like very much to trace out every inch of Ren’s warm body under his hands. “Want to fuck me, then?” 

Ren is glancing over in an instant, pupils seeming to dilate in similar time. “…Obviously.”

“Like your videos?” Hux prompts, sitting up and leaning over on his thigh to hover above Ren, already consciously planning to emulate; the simple idea enough to have the back of his neck flash with a heat that goes straight to his groin – to have Ren under him, in him, moving only when told to move, big hands gripping at Hux’s thighs enough to leave bruises of restraint.

“No, those are…” Ren shakes his head, though his eyes are still focused on Hux as if magnetized, like he’s not cruelly dismantling the fantasy, “They’re not real.”

“I don’t know,” Hux says, spreading his palms across the wide shoulders below him, sending a short smirk downward that he hopes sparks some subconscious memory. He knows Ren is already getting hard, those cheap black sweats more to showcase than anything. “That ginger woman seemed to love her partner.”

A bizarre noise escapes from Ren, leading to a gasping sort of cough. “What?”

Hux raises an eyebrow, “She didn’t look like she was faking.”

“Oh,” Ren intones, breaking eye contact and looking down at the same moment a hand sneaks up Hux’s shirt, fingers spreading warm and wide across his ribs. “Yeah.”

Hux leans back, letting the shirt be peeled off his shoulders and flung into a closet door. He bites at his lower lip, leaning down for another kiss, sloppier and giving chance to drag his hands across every standout swell of muscle under his fingertips. Ren’s hands get bolder as well, one curling at the back of Hux’s neck, while the thumb of the other slides up to trace around Hux’s nipple, leaving behind what feels like sparks.

“Shit,” Ren mutters, shuffling back without warning in the next moment, then sliding out from under Hux and scrambling off the bed with a loud thump on the wooden floor. He takes a short breath, eyes wide as he turns on a heel to the door without another word.

Hux watches him rush away with a sense of bewilderment, panic threatening to rise at the back of his mind, only to soon hear the clattering slam of a dresser drawer echo down the hall. The surge of anxiety dissipates as he realizes Ren is actually being responsible for once, which is very near admirable until being ruined somewhat by the implication that he thinks Hux doesn’t have any laying around.

He reaches out and pulls open his own drawers, more handily just under his mattress, and pulls out a thin bottle. He pops the cap with one hand in the same moment he starts kicking off his pants, freeing his cock and glancing up to find Ren staring from the doorway with a shiny packet in his hands.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen my cock,” Hux says, refusing to feel shame as Ren’s tense posture refuses to fade.

“On, like, accident,” Ren mumbles, nervously licking at his lips and glancing up and down Hux’s body, eyes catching swiftly now on the bottle of lube.

Hux sighs at length, tempted to throw said bottle at Ren’s head; if he’s going to act like he’s walked in on someone masturbating, maybe Hux should, too. “Get over here; your hands must be good for something

“You want me to finger you?” Ren asks, walking slowly out of his sweats and letting his own cock hang heavy and thick between his thighs.

Hux glances quickly back to Ren’s face before he can look up, determined to act nonchalant; he’d seen it, but he hadn’t really… seen it. He swallows against his surprise even as he hands the bottle over; he’s not about to act with the same immaturity as Ren. “Though I’m not sure I trust you. How many men have you been with, again - three?”

Ren rolls his eyes, shoving Hux to the bed with a broad hand and kneeing onto the mattress. He hesitates a few seconds even after positioning himself between Hux’s spread thighs, lube in hand, then abruptly shifts up and forward to catch Hux in a kiss, fervently opening up his mouth with drags of tongue and nips of teeth, drawing it out until they’re panting more than kissing. He leans away only barely, forehead pressing to Hux’s and eyes almost luminous. “I-I wanted this. A long time.”

“I’ve realized,” Hux says, his voice about half as strong as he’d like it to sound. He wants to say something else, but he has nothing that would be half as meaningful; he had never longed after Ren, he’d just shoved the idea out of his mind.

“And girls like being fingered, too,” Ren says, leaning downward and kissing at the inside of Hux’s thigh, then pressing a slippery thumb to the back of Hux’s balls as he slowly breaches him with a finger. His other hand begins to pulls gently at Hux’s cock. “A lot. By me.”

“Inappropriate,” Hux mutters, tilting his hips up when Ren presses hard into his prostate, swiftly thrusting in with another finger and sending sparks up Hux’s spine. Fuck, Ren is good with his hands, clever and big, matching obscenely well to that cock bobbing between his legs.

Hux swallows hard as three fingers begin to spread and stretch, shifting into a pleasure-pain just before fucking him harder, the sound of lube vulgar in the quiet of the room. He takes a short breath, reaching out and grabbing at Ren’s arm, gripping fingers hard around his wrist.

Ren glances up and then nods hesitantly, reaching for the bedside and grabbing the forgotten packet, ripping it between his teeth like he’s showing off. He grabs the lube as he rolls down the condom, proceeding to slathering it thick like it costs nothing, “Like this, or – “

“No,” Hux says, too eager by half just to have that cock in him. He’d probably not last long enough to change positions, which would be too much of a shame if this never happens again. He kicks out, swallowing hard against a dry throat and clambering upward, “On your back. And don’t. Move.”

Ren hesitates only a moment before nodding again, shifting forward and oddly agreeable for his usual bluster, though that’s likely to do with his hidden fondness for being bossed around. He settles against the pillows, tilting his hips and making his cock jut out in an absolutely intentional manner.

Hux represses a huff, ignoring prickles of nervousness as he throws a leg over Ren to perch with his ass over Ren’s cock, feeling the head brush up against his stretched hole. He smirks and grinds down a few times, watching the tightening of muscle below him, and gives into an overly sentimental urge to lean down and peck at Ren’s upturned lips before sitting back up. He's pretty sure he can see the remnants of the lip gloss smeared across those wide lips, prompting another flash of heat to spread down his already flushed skin. 

He reaches around for the cock pressing at his ass, appreciating the weight of it in his hand for a few moments longer before shifting up and pressing the thick head to his hole. He exhales slow at the carnal stretch, feeling a familiar reflex to close eyes and adjust, but knowing if he does that he’ll miss the sight below of Ren utterly enthralled, mouth half open in a gasp, and all because of him. It's just as much the heady feeling he'd imagined, being the entire focus of Ren's notoriously intense attention, even as it feels almost familiar.

The position is admittedly almost uncomfortable at first, finding the right angle and relying on himself alone to start the pace up, as slow as he keeps it. He can’t remember the last time he fucked like this with an actual living human, not just some toy and his imagination.

“Hands,” Hux says, reaching out and grabbing at one of the tense limbs at his side, putting it firmly onto his thigh, then taking the other and laying it wide over his hip. He shifts the angle again, swallowing a self-inflicted whimper, and leans down even as he keeps his hips moving, planting his own hands on the sumptuous contour of Ren’s chest. “Move, slow.”

Ren nods slow, beginning to thrust upward at the next sinking push, the drag and pull of his cock at a slight stutter before he evens his pace out to an almost perfect foil. He slides his hands up and down Hux’s thighs with an unsteady glance upward, clearly seeking out some sort of approval.

“Good boy,” Hux gasps, giving into the urge to indulge and feeling his breath go shallow in his chest; he finally closes his eyes for a few seconds, getting lost in the sensation, clenching his hole with every filled thrust, “Very good boy.”

Ren gives a badly stifled whimper, a grin flashing across his mouth for a spare few seconds, lingering as he keeps up the sustained pace. His expression folds with pleasure just a few minutes later, though, throat bobbing with exertion as he throws his head back into the pillow. His hair is in whorls against the pale green, flattening and twisting with the turn of his head.

“No,” Hux says, inhaling with a rasp and leaning down even further to mouth at the standout shell of an ear, warm and red under his lips. “Not you, not yet. Harder.”

Ren takes a shaky breath, eyes darting to the side to catch Hux and then screwing shut, another whimper escaping his slack-jawed mouth. His hands dig hard into Hux’s knees at the next inward drive, quickening the speed to time with Hux’s own hastened thrusts downward.

The level of obedience is dazing, a flicker of a thought towards other partners flying through Hux’s mind before he quashes it, refusing to be brought out of this moment. He slides a hand up and around the back of Ren’s neck, pressing lips again to his ear, “Harder.”

He leans up after a few moments of punishing thrusts and reaches down for his dick, softened some but still leaking across Ren’s heaving abdomen, and strokes himself back into full hardness with a few quick pulls. He can feel his edge approaching soon, a few beads of sweat dragging down his back, and realizes he’s lost the rhythm of his own hand to arousal only a few seconds before orgasm grips him.

He is fairly sure the embarrassing, choked moan is from him, feeling himself spasm under his fingers, glancing down to see his come smeared across Ren’s tightening muscle in whirled stripes. The pace of thrusts upward stutters to a stop for only a few seconds before resuming, almost painful now with his additional sensitivity, and not nearly as controlled.

Hux reaches out and takes one of Ren's vice-like hands in his grasp, bringing it up to his mouth. It’s vaguely tacky with lube, reflexively curling inward when he presses the knuckles to his lips, “Now.”

Ren takes a stuttering breath, mouth almost forming words before he seems to give up, a sparse nod in their place. His eyes are wide, centered straight at Hux’s mouth, growing into saucers when Hux takes the first two fingers in his mouth. He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, nor even the point of it, but is certain it has something to do with all the porn. The thrusting becomes even more erratic in only moments, and Hux bites down just slightly at the roll of a joint when Ren’s becomes taut save for his hips, jerking upward with orgasm. His come face isn’t even awful, just a clenching of the jaw, a small scrunching at his nose; Hux could stand to see it again.

A low groan permeates the room as Ren relaxes, his hand awkwardly curling both in and around Hux’s jaw, a finger stroking lightly at his tongue before pulling out. “What are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” Hux murmurs back, slowly dropping the hand and watching it fall, glistening, to the bed spread. “You’re the one into it.”

Ren scoffs low in his throat, lazily pushing at Hux’s stomach with the other hand and urging him pull off. It’s an awkward few seconds that leads to Hux flat on his back next to Ren, grimacing as a tied of condom gets thrown who knows where, and trying to convince himself what he should say is they both need another shower. It hardly gets through the planning stage, other thoughts shoving forward with ill-timed rudeness.

“How attached are you really to First Order?” Hux asks, glancing down to see his chest sheening with sweat, though no longer heaving; his thighs ache in all the right places, and he can still feel wide fingertips at the insides of his knees.

“Snoke…” Ren trails off, exhaling slowly, “He helped me. I could break away from my family.”

“But how attached are you?” Hux repeats, turning his head and languidly shifting an arm onto Ren’s shoulder.

Ren is silent for a long few seconds, the calm of the room succumbing to mild tension. He exhales a long breath, abruptly turning over onto his front and trying to burrow into Hux's neck, muttering heavy, but unintelligible words into his skin.

Hux exhales hard, ignoring a fierce urge to curl into the embrace. “Say again.”

“Not very,” Ren says, voice resonating weakly in Hux's ear. “Not anymore.”