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In Hux’s estimation, a professional man is nothing without the taste and wardrobe to back it up.

As he fixes his tie pin in the mirror of the lobby bathroom of the high-rise where he works, he thinks the man looking back at him is nothing less than the apotheosis of professional.

His navy blazer with the broadened shoulders cuts a fine figure, slimming down towards his waist before flaring slightly at the hips. Back in his younger, more naive years, he might’ve defaulted to black when choosing a suit. But black is pedestrian, for red-carpet affairs and formal parties attended by men attempting class they never practiced in their day to day lives. Hux knows better—knows all the nuances of suiting colors, knew that his tie and pocket square didn’t necessarily have to match as long as the overall image remained striking and cohesive. Hux knows better than other men with regard to most things, but the way in which he dresses himself is one of the more visible manifestations.

Hux owns his own car but had today taken rideshare to work thanks to a leak in the undercarriage that’s put it in the shop for the remainder of the week. Thus, he hadn’t a moment to study his reflection in the rear-view mirror as he sat in the car port, necessitating this pitstop in the lobby bathroom. Hux always arrived early, and this morning is no exception. He enjoys the buffer of time before the workday begins to properly ensure he looks his best after his commute.

Hux licks the tip of his pointer finger, pressing a loose strand of hair back against the side of his head. He tilts his chin to the side, examining himself from various angles, before gazing straight-on. He tries on a smirk, satisfied.  

It’s a look fit for a CEO.

Unfortunate, then, that he is not the one in charge.

His smirk loses a bit of its practiced confidence, falling a bit sourly as he exits the bathroom and makes his way towards the elevator, standing primly apart from the rest of the white collar rank-and-file. They peter off as the carriage rises closer and closer to the top of the high-rise, until only Hux stands staring at his indistinct reflection in the smooth metal of the elevator door.

No, sadly Armitage Hux doesn’t quite sit at the top of the pack, flush with power, influence, and stock options. Rather, he stands off to the side, authority-adjacent, serving as the personal assistant to the real CEO of Supremacy Industries.

Though Hux still disbelieves his claim to the position.

For years he’d served under Mr. Snoke, arranging his schedule and filtering his inbox messages, not to mention more menial duties such as fetching his coffee and adjusting the office thermostat. There, Hux—already well-educated and experienced in the world of business—had absorbed extensive knowledge of the company via osmosis, steadily taking over more and more of Snoke’s duties as the man weakened in mind and body, growing more infirm by the day. Hux didn’t want to say he was awaiting his boss’s retirement, but as time wore on he increasingly imagined himself seated smartly behind the large desk with the gold border, sturdy as the grand oak that surely bore it. Whenever he had time to glance around Snoke’s office, he started to mentally rearrange how he might like it once it finally belonged to him—walls painted with floral white instead of cornsilk, new indoor plants for the tall ceramic pots flanking the entrance, a picture of Millicent adorably gnawing a toy mouse on his desk, turned away from anyone who might mock him for it.

Snoke always complimented him on his efforts, seemed to drop hints that Hux was next in line for the promotion. It’d gotten to the point that when he finally announced his retirement, Hux spontaneously sold off some of last year’s stock grants and purchased a fresh new suit priced more than his mortgage, already planning the first impression he wanted to make once he was crowned Snoke’s successor.

But then the old withered bastard had betrayed him. Throwing years of dedicated service out the window and leaving Hux with a blighted, bitter mark upon his spirit. With not a thought spared for his loyal, long-suffering assistant Snoke had committed the single worst, most egregious sin imaginable in Hux's opinion.

He’d chosen fucking Kylo Ren as the new CEO.

Hux had both recognized and disliked him instantly upon meeting. He knew him fleetingly from meetings Snoke regularly attended with some of the department managers. Hux had never thought much of him, other than the fact that he looked like he belonged more in the starting lineup of a rugby team than stuffed into a dress shirt and forced to sit at a desk a little too small for him. He’d never struck Hux as terribly smart nor innovative, and as a result he’d stopped paying him much mind.

Until he’d snatched the position of CEO right out of Hux’s hands. That quickly shot him up to the top of his mental list of most hated individuals—just below Hux’s father, if only because nothing short of planetary destruction could possibly topple that.

Mournfully, Hux had stowed the expensive suit in his wardrobe, never to be worn in its deserved context. In his rash confidence, he had torn off the tags, believing there would never be any cause for him to return it. He refused to look at it whenever he selected his outfit for the day, lest he grow so bitter he could taste it on his tongue.

So he stayed in his position as assistant, even as the power above him, just out of reach, changed hands. He’d gone to Snoke’s retirement party, forcing a smile before eventually drowning it in scotch, and then he never saw or heard from him again.

From that moment on, Hux’s professional life had become all Ren.

The elevator finally dings, Hux’s stomach settling back into place but leaving him feeling no less agitated for the day ahead. It’s always like this now, more difficult than it had been under Snoke, because at least Hux had respected Snoke for his long years of service and efforts shaping the company.

But Ren ran his new domain as if he had his head on backwards. In the scant months since his undeserved promotion he’d squeezed out old, seasoned managers with new favorites, sycophants and friends of his from further down in the ranks.

Rest assured, Hux has registered his displeasure through several means already. Not enough for Ren to notice and discipline him, but enough to just slightly throw off the usual cadence of the work day and set his teeth on edge. Maybe alter the schedule a bit, and arrange two meetings just a little too close to one another, or plan a conference call that would eat significantly into his lunch hours. Just to agitate Ren’s  nerves enough that he might bungle something important and perhaps embarrass himself.

Often Hux would purposefully ask the barista at his usual cafe for decaf when it came to Ren’s drink. He and her had a system for days when Hux felt especially scathed by his new boss. She knew not to charge it as decaf so it wouldn’t print out on the order sticker and incriminate him, and that she’d score a five dollar tip if she did so. Hux garnered only a small amount of validation when it came to depriving Ren of caffeine, but some days it was enough to get him through. His own personal rebellion, hidden in plain sight.

Hux had felt the temptation with this morning’s especially atrocious order. Ren had texted him midway through his shower about some ridiculous promotional beverage at a coffee shop different than Hux’s usual stop, forcing him to reconfigure his commute so he could stop by and pick it up. He’d ordered a black coffee himself, but found it disappointing—over-roasted and steely from sitting in the brewer for too long. He almost considered tossing Ren’s coffee out the car window in retribution for having to suffer such a mediocre cup, but resisted. He glares at it now, cradled in his hand, as he exits the elevator into the top-floor lobby.

Hux’s own office sits adjacent to Ren’s, with the door usually left open so he can summon his assistant with any concerns. More often than not, Ren tries to use it instead to strike up conversation with Hux, which thankfully can usually be tempered with a noncommittal “mm” or “ah” until he quiets. Really , working under Ren wouldn’t be nearly as annoying if he didn’t insist on blathering all the time as if he and Hux were long-time friends rather than barely amicable boss and subordinate. He does hate that he has to walk through his boss’s office to get to his own, but it can’t be helped. At least he can unload the loathsome coffee first.

He brushes past the secretary with a superficial “hello” as she buzzes him in. As the door opens the large window greets him first, giving him a near-panoramic view of the blue sky and very tops of the cityscape. For a brief, wonderful moment, Hux pretends he’s walking to an empty desk, and that the placard sitting atop it bears his name.

Unfortunately the desk isn’t empty, and engraved letters on the little acrylic name plate don’t read “A. Hux.” The hopeful fantasy sighs out of him, and his shoulders fall invisibly beneath his blazer.

Kylo Ren lounges in Snoke’s old leather chair with the lazy confidence Hux expects of a man who’d been granted everything he wanted in life with little effort on his part. He leans a little too far back with one leg crossed over his knee, the old supports creaking beneath his weight. Though he worries for the chair’s integrity under Ren’s uncaring treatment, Hux takes it as a small blessing he hadn’t discarded it entirely. He’s not sure he could survive such trauma.

Ren looks bored, as if he’s one yawn away from putting his feet up on the desk and taking an 8 A. M. nap. He wears no tie, his shirt collar opened by a couple buttons, fabric straining over his abundant pectorals. He keeps his hair overall un-styled, save for perhaps a glide of gel run back through the untamable locks, adding to his overall cocksure appearance. Hux grimaces inwardly. He looks a fraction more like the proprietor of a sleazy nightclub than the CEO of a major company.

It’s fortunate that Ren is fairly good-looking, despite it all. Even Hux can’t deny his striking appearance, from his aquiline profile to the way his hair flurried about like licking flares of a black sun, to the little flaws in his skin that complete such an unusual allure. With a tad more primping he could perhaps get a little closer to Hux’s level of class and style, but he seems unmotivated to do anything but wallow at the bare minimum of business-formal.

“Good morning, Ren,” Hux says without much interest as he sets the coffee and bagged danish atop the desk. He’d already dumped his own disappointing cup in the trash, deciding he’d make do with the coffee machine in the breakroom should he need the caffeine later in the day.

Out of old habit, Hux sticks out his chest and briefly looks down at himself, from his crisp tie to the carmine pocket square. He used to wear one of burnished gold, Snoke’s favorite color, but Hux hadn’t bothered to learn what Ren’s favorite color was and wouldn’t care to dress accordingly anyway. Red clashed with his blue suit, too garish for his tastes, like a kindergartner’s color wheel. But considering Hux felt he needed to babysit Ren at all hours of the day, perhaps it was apt.

Ren yawns his way through his own greeting, scratching a hand through his hair as he sits up in his chair. The poor thing moans thanks to the shift in weight. Hux feels for it.

“Just in time. About to nod off here,” Ren mumbles as he reaches across the desk and grabs his cup. He pops the lid off and raises an eyebrow.

“They put whipped cream in this?”

Hux huffs, barely resisting rolling his eyes.

“I believe so, unfortunately whipped cream suffers from a very short lifespan.” Does it really matter that much to Ren whether his drink remained completely intact during the commute? It’s not as if the sugar content has evaporate along with it.

“Maybe we should get a coffee house to open in the lobby. That’d be nice, huh?”

“We haven’t the space to lease out.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a whole storefront. Maybe just a little cart or something,” Ren lifts the opened cup to his mouth and takes a sip, foam clinging to the light hair on his upper lip. “Would sure make your job easier, huh?”

Hux wisely bites his tongue. As a matter of fact, his daily duties encompass a whole lot more than merely fetching his boss coffee. Hux more or less enjoys his work, and he’d really like to get to it if Ren is finished with petty small talk.

“Is there anything more you need from me?” Hux drones as Ren lightly smacks his lips together, as if he could make out any refined notes in the coffee apart from the deluge of sugar.

“Don’t think so. Call you if I need you.” Hux turns, taking a step towards the door to his office when Ren’s voice stops him.


“Yes? Is there something you still need?” Hux says as he turns back around, a bit of irritation edging into his voice. He’s eager to settle at his own desk and get started on the day’s work. There’s a lot of it, even more now with Ren heaping even more onto him.  “If there’s something wrong with your coffee, blame the shop. I told them exactly what you said to me.”

“It’s not about the coffee, Hux.”

“Then what is it?” He doesn’t have time to play games. Behind his back, his hands tighten into aggravated fists.

Ren leans his elbow forward, resting his fingers against his temple and looking at Hux askew.

“You don’t respect me very much, do you?”

Hux freezes, taken aback by the bluntness of the question. He’d never expected Ren to outright ask him something so forward. Honestly, at times he thought Ren was so dense he might not even pick up on Hux’s subtle insubordination. He did try to keep it inconspicuous, easy to brush off as accidental. Perhaps Ren is more perceptive than he’d first pegged him for.

Still, Hux knows better than to reveal the truth in the presence of someone with firing power over him.

“Why do you say that?” He says. The lie comes easily—he’s grown used to misdirecting his bosses.

Ren shrugs.

“I dunno. Just the general way you act around me.” He gestures vaguely at Hux with his other hand. “You never say more than you need to when we’re together and if I ever press you for any more info it feels like I’m annoying you.”

“Unnecessary chatter isn’t a part of my job,” Hux replies.

“I suppose, but you’re not a robot, are you?”

Some might say that, actually. Hux has been compared to soulless machinery in the past. Frankly, he’d always just felt they were envious of his task-focused efficiency.

“Would mindless chit-chat make you feel better, Ren?” Hux replies dully. “I can always mock up conversations about the weather forecast or the latest television premiere if that would satisfy your curiosity.”

“See? You’re doing it now. The way you talk to me. Like it’s a waste of your time.”

Hux is quickly tiring of this conversation, true. But more to the point, he doesn’t really get Ren’s angle at all. Wouldn’t a man in such an elevated position of power want a reduction in petty chatter? Wouldn’t he feel relieved at an assistant that didn’t try to fill the silence instead of actually getting down to the work at hand?

Talking to Ren is, ultimately, a waste of his time, but why should he care about that as long as Hux still performs his duties adequately?

“You know Hux, we work pretty closely together. You’re like my right hand and all.” Ren takes another bracing sip from his coffee before sliding it away. “So I feel like, I dunno. You should be able to speak your mind without worrying too hard about how I might react. I want you to trust me, and vice versa.”

Hux almost sneers. Is Ren really suggesting they could ever be something like friends? Hux had never befriended a single one of his coworkers, much less a superior. The idea was counterproductive.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“If I am? Would that be so bad?”

“Ren,” Hux warns, raising a hand, “it’s better to keep things professional.”

“What’s unprofessional about honesty? Come on.” Ren plants his hand against the desk. “Cut the prissy, standoffish asshole crap. I don’t want to work with a guy who thinks he has to be tight-lipped to the point of suffocation around me.”

Hux stays still, looking down his nose at Ren, trying to evaluate the situation and decide whether he was being sincere or not. His instinctive distrustfulness says no , leads him towards the doorway of his office and welcomed solitude. But his damned curiosity tugs at his mind, the temptation to let out everything he’s kept bottled up since Snoke’s retirement.

“You want to hear it, then?” Hux says, feeling as if he’s just stepped into the den of the proverbial, dark-haired lion, but once he starts he finds he can’t stop himself.

“I believe you’re utterly out of your depth when it comes to this position. You have absolutely no business being a CEO of anything, no less the largest engineering contractor in the state. I’m the one who worked under Snoke for years. That decrepit bastard would’ve ran this company into the ground long ago if not for my constant vigilance. I know it inside out, I’ve seen all operations and negotiations firsthand. And you? You only have what you have because by some unthinkable fluke Snoke decided you were his favorite.”

Fresh stinging wells up in Hux’s chest. Instead of letting it overwhelm him, he uses it to fuel the venom in his tongue, laying into Ren with all the frustration he’d kept pent up over the months.

“I deserve this,” Hux ends simply, after a breath, with his finger pointed at the floor. “You didn’t.”

He feels like he’s run a mile though he hasn’t moved past the spot in front of Ren’s desk. He curls his hand into a loose fist.  It feels like a massive weight taken off his shoulder, but at the same time Hux is terrified. Especially since Ren just stares at him from across the desk, impassive, cheek still cradled in his palm. Finally, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms loosely over his chest.

“Wow,” is the only thing Ren says at first, leaving Hux’s exhilaration a bit deflated. He’d expected screaming, or maybe Ren upending the desk using those unnecessarily large muscles of his. But his expression appears almost thoughtful as he scrutinizes Hux.

“So that’s it, huh? That’s what you really think of your boss.”

Hux feels sweat prickling on the back of his neck, suddenly filled with the instinct to flee, but he forces himself to nod despite that.


Hux flinches as Ren gets up, chair rolling back towards the window. He prepares for the hammer to fall, to get fired and kicked out on his ass and forced to trawl through the classifieds once again. At least he could ride out on a high note, now that he’s told Ren exactly what he thinks of him. Not many were blessed with that opportunity before being let go.

Hux watches Ren carefully as he sticks in his hands in his pockets, leaning his hips forward. Dark eyes meet him, and he tries not to falter, tries to meet his fate head on.

“You know what?” Ren flicks his hair out of his eyes and casually shrugs. “I get it. No hard feelings.”

Hux blinks, incredulous, unsure if he heard that correctly. He narrows his eyes, inclining his head towards Ren.

“Pardon? Are...are you serious?”

“As a stroke. I asked you to open up to me, and you did. That took guts, and that’s something I can respect in a man these days.”

Respect. Even Snoke had never respected him, at least not as anything more than an accessory to his enterprise. He used to Ren was far too self centered to ever recognize worth in another human, but—perhaps he’s misjudged?

“Well...I suppose you’re correct.”

“And you feel better letting it all out now, don’t you?”

Hux does, actually. “I believe so.”

“Then that’s all I wanted from you. Things are gonna be different from here on out. Okay?” Ren pulls one hand out of his blazer pocket, extending it in Hux’s direction. His lips curls into a half smile. “And not just that. I’ll show you that I do deserve this position. I wanna try to regain your trust if you’ll let me. Sounds good?”

It sounds almost too good to be true. Hux’s natural mistrust of Ren is so ingrained now it’s difficult to fight but the earnest, almost casual way in which he speaks lowered Hux’s defenses a bit.

Ren wants to regain his trust, eh? A proper CEO has no business speaking with such vulnerability, allowing a mere assistant to get away with bad-mouthing him in such a fashion. If Hux were in Ren’s position, then he wouldn’t have tolerated such a blatant show of insubordination. Ren is hardly the leader Hux could’ve been, but perhaps his naivete would make him easier to sway than someone like Snoke, who had been largely set in his ways and content maintaining a standoffish relationship with his assistant. Using Hux’s insights but shutting him out from any real attempts to seize power. Perhaps if he takes advantage of Ren’s trusting nature, he could manipulate things his way from the sidelines.

“It’ll be an uphill battle, but I’d like to see you try.” Hux walks around the desk, keeping one arm tucked behind his back. He takes Ren’s offered hand, pleasantly surprised at the firm grasp his receives in return. Hux gives it a couple good pumps, the edges of his lips twitching up in a proud smirk. Ren smiles back, eyes dark as pits. Finally, after so long, things are starting to turn around for him.

Alas, his victory is short-lived.

Without warning Ren grips his hand tighter and yanks Hux forward, pulling him off balance with surprising violence. Hux gasps, trying to stop himself, but he grasps only air as he falls into Ren. He expects the man to stay standing, perhaps hold him back at arms-length, but instead Ren sits heavily in his chair and pulls Hux sideways over his lap. He grunts as his abdomen makes contact with Ren’s thighs, stunned.

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with his body enough to realize his current position is in no way accidental.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Hux shrieks, trying to buck off of Ren’s lap, tips of his shoes struggling to find purchase on the floor. But Ren holds him firmly against his thighs, forearm weighing across Hux’s shoulders as his other hand comes to rest on his lower back.

Embarrassment cuts through the shock and anger on Hux’s expression at the abruptly increased closeness, a touch of pink blossoming on his cheeks as he continues to struggle despite Ren’s hold on him. He flails his arm out, trying to grasp the edge of the desk to help pull the rest of his body off of Ren’s lap, but the CEO chuckles and pushes his chair further back, letting it roll gradually to a halt and depriving Hux of any easy method of escape. He’s instead forced to scrabble for purchase against Ren’s calf instead—it’s firm and flexes underneath his hand. He tries to ignore that, as well as every other part of Ren now pressing up against him.

“You really thought I was going to let you go with just a handshake, huh? Just let bygones be bygones? I know you think you’re smart, Hux, but you really fell hard for that one.” Kylo’s voice drips with dark amusement down over his back, nearly making Hux shiver. “You really believed you could get away with saying all that without some kind of punishment?”

Punishment? What are you talking about?” Hux tries to turn his head and look over his shoulder, but Ren shifts his arm and instead catches him by the back of the shirt, pulling his collar until it digs into the softness of his throat. He presses down harder against Hux’s tailbone, keeping him powerlessly trapped to his lap. This didn’t seem like the average firing. Hux has absolutely no idea what to make of this, but he knows he doesn’t like it.

“You said some nasty shit just now, Hux, and honestly? It really kind of pissed me off. I’m not somebody you want to piss off.”

“I demand you unhand me this instant!” Hux hollers, not caring about Ren’s feelings nor his reason for laying a hand on him. His belly roils with discomfort and anger as he tries to wriggle free. How dare Ren do this to him! He’s a personal assistant, not a plaything, and if Ren doesn’t want to reap the consequences of such a violation of personal space and employee contract, then he better damn well release him before—

Ren’s broad hand swings downwards and smacks Hux right on the rear, momentarily dislodging any rational thought from his brain.

Hux falters, lips parted, staring in shock at the wall of the office as the blow smarts through the meat of his ass. For a moment, he can’t comprehend what’s actually happened—surely Ren couldn’t have, even someone as insouciant and arrogant as him wouldn’t dare

Another slap to his ass grounds Hux back in reality, which only magnifies the horror and offense coursing through his body. He lets out an indignant croak, again trying to crane his head over his shoulder to look up at Ren, strands of ginger hair falling over his creased forehead. This time anger replaces shock as it wells in his eyes, incoherently spitting between his teeth. He feels himself shaking beneath his blazer.

“You dare—Ren, don’t you dare—”

“I think that’s enough talk out of you, Hux,” Ren commands casually with another swat to his assistant’s rear, this time a bit harder than before though the starch in his pants slightly muffled the blow. Hux grits his teeth around a pained squeak, feeling utterly sickened with shame and disbelief. The whole situation has devolved so catastrophically, Ren’s hand dragging Hux down off his high horse and debasing him with such ease and disregard for the consequences. Hux bites his lip and raises his head, trying to retain even a scrap of his former dignity, but that’s nearly impossible given his position.

Ren is five years younger than him, a mere infant in the world of business, yet here he is spanking Hux as if he were the naughty child.

It’s indefensible. It’s breaking just about every code of conduct erected in the workplace. In his head, he’s already outlining his letter to the head of HR. Hux knows her by name, Ms. Unamo, and he knows that she’s fond of him. They’d even gone on a single date, mostly out of politeness on Hux’s part, before she finally wrangled out her feelings with that platinum-blonde security guard who spent her working hours pacing the lobby floor. Still, she remained cordial towards him. Surely she’d sympathize if he told her about Ren’s offences. Perhaps he could even get him fired.

Ms. Unamo—Hux starts in his head—it is with a heavy but sober heart that I inform you of the misdeeds of our illustrious CEO, one Kylo-fucking-Ren—

He jolts forward harshly as Ren properly slaps him, putting even more force behind his hand than before. A cry breaks from behind Hux’s tightly clamped lips, ringing around the vast office. Ren rumbles appreciatively and tightens the grip he has on the back of Hux’s collar, pulling the knot of his tie harder against his throat, as if applying more pressure could wring out more of those cries he apparently found so enticing. Hux presses his lips back together defiantly, determined to ride this out. He pulls his eyebrows together and tries to think of something, anything to distract himself from the pain and humiliation. But Ren makes it nigh impossible, quickly settling into a rhythm with the spanking and not allowing him a moment to gather himself.

Now that he’s pressed to Ren’s lap, Hux can smell him better, though he doesn’t exactly want to. Woodsy cologne cloaks the air around him, as if Ren had used it in lieu of deodorant, because underneath there’s definitely a hint of musky sweatiness. Is Ren one of those men who works up a sweat pumping their muscles at the gym before work? Hux wouldn’t be surprised—

He cringes as another palm struck his rear. Certainly not surprised.

“I really should fire you, but I won’t,” Kylo says, pausing with his hand in the air, “and it’s not because you’re an invaluable sort of assistant. Nah. You’re just a pretty enough face.”

Ren brings his palm down harshly, fingers digging into the material of Hux’s pants. “And a nice ass.”

This time Hux’s leg jerks involuntarily with the slap, nearly kicking his shoe loose. He’d latticed them so carefully this morning but still this one threatens to slip off.

“Man, you actually are a tight-ass, aren’t you? If I’m not careful, I’m gonna wind up breaking my hand against the metal rod jammed up there,” Ren jokes, shaking said hand out with imaginary pain. Hux grinds his teeth when Ren smacks him again, jolting him in his lap and forcing him to grip more tightly onto his calf lest he pitch forward onto the floor. Sensation sparks up through his belly, making his heart race.

It’s then that Hux realizes he’s growing hard in his pants.

His mouth falls open, mortified, disbelieving that his body would dare betray him like this.It would be one thing if Ren was hard from this—and honestly he’s not sure that he isn’t, he’s trying as hard as he can to suck in his belly over Ren’s groin—but himself? He shouldn’t even be thinking about sex in such a humiliating position, and yet his libido persists in defying his wishes and shooting blood to his cock because of a couple swats on the ass and a husky voice in his ears.

Hux desperately tries thinking of the least sexy things possible, imagining it was Snoke keeping him in his lap and spanking him with a gnarled hand. Yellow nails digging into his pants and grin puckering on his lips. For a moment, it seems to actually work, his erection wilting slightly, but on the neck slap Ren keeps his hand pressed against Hux’s ass, kneading it with his fingers.

Ren hums, and Hux realizes with horror his cock is definitely digging into his boss’s thigh.

“Would you look at that,” Ren says as he shifts his leg purposefully, rubbing it up against Hux’s bulge,“I can’t believe you’re actually enjoying this.”

“No, I—”

Ren tuts, cutting him off.

“That’s not gonna work, though. It’s supposed to be your punishment, you’re not going to learn anything if you like it too much.” He strokes Hux’s ass with momentary kindness that belies his words, thumb pushing hard into one of the more tender spots. “Think I gotta go a little rougher on you.”

“R-Rougher?” Hux ekes out.

“Yep. If you thought that hurt,” Ren chuckles, shrugging his jacket off onto the back of the chair, “this is going to get so much worse.”

As his voice seeps down Hux’s spine like frigid wax, he realizes just how much Ren’s demeanor has changed since he first slung him over his lap. It’s grown much more intense, almost sinister. Not anything Hux would’ve ever expected from Ren, who usually displayed a sort of casual incompetence, like a child flopping about in its father’s dress shoes.

But the man looming above him now feels entirely different than the one he’d grown accustomed to over the past few months, as if Ren knows how to flip a switch inside him from light to dark. As if he wore a mask he could easily strip away to reveal the full extent of the brutishness usually kept hidden.

Hux shirks, mortified, as Ren reaches around his waist to find the buckle of his belt. He shakes his head, renewing his effort to try to squirm off of Ren’s lap. But the hand clutching the back of his collar forces him down, keeping him pinned in place as Ren makes short work of his belt and lets it hang open with a foreboding clink. Hux flushes up to his ears as he feels Ren’s fingers trace over the bulge in his pants, dragging his zipper down with them.

So many times, Hux had pictured himself sitting on the other side of the desk, but never in his wildest imagination had he thought his dream would come true in this fashion—with his body not seated in Snoke’s regal chair but instead slung over Ren’s lap, flushed and disheveled with loosened pants now pulled down to his thighs and the waistband on the back of his briefs yanked to rest below the curve of his rear.

Hux shivers as the air conditioning kisses his naked cheeks, and for a brief moment the cool breeze almost feels good against his sore skin. But any momentary relief quickly vanishes when he feels one of Kylo’s fingers brush against the straps of the garters keeping his shirt neat and straight against his body. Not much help now, Hux grimaces, knowing his clothes will need more than a quick press after all this is said and done.

“Wow,” Ren’s whistle cuts appreciatively through the air as he strokes the slim black strap pressed tight against Hux’s ass, “so this is how you keep yourself held together, huh?”

“There—there’s nothing wrong with taking extra measures to look one’s best,” Hux asserts with a slight stammer, ready to add a snide maybe you should try it only to flinch as Ren manages to slide his finger underneath one of the straps and tug it upwards, leaving Hux only a split second to realize what’ll happen next before Ren snaps it back against his injured ass. Hux yelps at the slap of elastic against his skin, an unwanted jolt of pleasure mingles in his stomach alongside the shame and pain. Hux should hate the ensuing blend of sensation more than he does. His cock rubs achingly against his briefs.

“I think I like these a lot.” Ren’s offending finger pushes at flesh newly pinked around the snapped garter. “You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Hux closes his eyes, shame locking up his throat and preventing him from responding. He resists the urge to sniff, even as Ren lifts his hand and strikes him on the ass again. It hurts even worse than it did when he had his pants on, and Hux nearly loses his grip on Ren’s leg as he jolts forward.

“Now that’s a lot better,” Ren growls appreciatively, smacking him twice more in quick succession and springing wetness to the corners of Hux’s eyes. “Fuck. Your ass feels so good.”

Hux swallows tightly, forcing back the tears. No. He won’t crack. He won’t give Ren the satisfaction. He’s already humiliated him. He doesn’t need to see him cry.

Ren massages his fingers into the nape of Hux’s neck as if he’s a pet. He leans forward and to the side, until he looms over his assistant’s bowed head.

“I want you to count this time. Out loud. If I don’t hear you, I’ll go a lot harder.”

“W-what?” Hux snivels, head jerking up, but Ren smacks his next blow sideways across his asscheeks, sending them quivering against each other before grabbing them both in one hand. His palm is warm and slightly dampened with sweat and his nails bite into his tender skin. Hux whimpers as he twists his fingers more tightly into the pant leg he’s anchored himself to. His cock flexes against Ren’s thigh, tip red and peeking out of the waistband of his briefs.

Count, Hux, you’re a smart boy, know how to count right?” He squeezes Hux’s asscheeks viciously, fingernails digging into the bruised flesh. “I want you to keep track of how many times I spank you now. I want you to remember every one.”

Hux catches his fist between his teeth, refusing. Enduring the spanking was one thing but he won’t become an active participant in it. Ren’s already squeezed enough fun from humiliating Hux, he won’t allow him anymore.

When the hand slaps against his rear, Hux lets out only a reactive grunt, digging his teeth deeper into his finger.

“One!” Ren calls, but Hux refuses to repeat. He grasps for the remains of his dignity, determined not to give Ren what he wants when he’s already taken so much, but it slips from his grasp.

“I can’t hear you. One!” Ren practically shouts, the sound ringing in Hux’s ears and making him dizzy. He digs his teeth harder into his knuckle, nearly biting down to the bone as another smack resounds against his ass. He knows he’ll probably bruise now, with how hard Ren’s been hitting him. Layering each smack over one another like violently splattered coats of paint, transforming his ass into the object of Ren's perverse desire.


When the next palm lands against his ass, sending pain and pleasure shooting up his spine into his already addled brain, he can’t help himself. Hux breaks.

“O-One…” He echoes, moaning around the fist in his mouth, his voice ravaged by barely held back tears. Ren chuckles at the victory, pinching his assistant’s ass.

“That’s it. Now just keep it up. We won’t move onto the next number until I hear you count it out loud, Hux. Keep that in mind if you want this over quicker.” Ren smirks. “Not that I’d mind spending the rest of the day spanking you raw. Sounds a lot more fun than work.”

Hux manages a weak “t-two!” when Ren smacks him again.

Despite the increasingly brutality—or perhaps because of it—Hux still rocks painfully hard against Ren’s thigh. Now freed from his briefs completely, the sensitive skin of his cock rubs against the weave of his boss’s pants, drawing sparks of detestable friction. With every fresh slap against his ass, every watery number spilling from Hux’s lips, he grows harder, desperate for release. His legs jolt with each slap, muscles in the back of his calves and thighs aching.

Hux’s bunched pants fall further and further down his legs with each slap, until they hang between his knees, belt buckle clinking each time he involuntarily shifts. His poor ass must be a sight right now—littered with bruises and abrasions left by Ren’s hand, flesh swollen in between the tight fit of his garters. Lord, he won’t be able to sit properly for weeks after such barbaric treatment.

“You scream so pretty.” Ren’s voice rebounds off of him as viciously as his hand. “Shit, though. I’ve been wasting you on paperwork this whole time. I should’ve just kept you on my cock so I could hear you sing.”

Ren’s other hand clamps tighter on the back of Hux’s neck, fingers wrapping around and pressing into the sides of his throat. His thumb settles just above Hux’s pulse point, applying a bit of pressure. Surely Ren can feel every trembling swallow and prickle of nervous sweat, every cry that Hux manages to hold back and all those he doesn’t. He’s a complete mess now, his face glowing red and wetness clinging to his lashes, humiliation and arousal eating through him.

Hux realizes, as he chokes on the number eight, that Ren never specified at what point he might stop the spanking—he could just keep going on if he’d like, abusing Hux’s rear to his heart’s content no matter how desperately he might try to please him. It’ll only stop when Ren’s exhausted his enjoyment, and who knows how long it’ll be before that happens.

Still, Hux tries to keep counting the blows as they rain against his ass, but his voice crumbles entirely into dry sobbing as it reaches thirteen. Blessedly, Ren seems to get his fill then, letting his hand rest against Hux’s throbbing flesh. A considering noise rumbles from within his chest, and he starts to trace his fingers around the patterns of inflamed skin. Hux holds his breath, throat squeezing as they move from the plump globes of his ass to the crease separating them.

Ren leaves his fingertips wedged there, and for a moment Hux wonders if he’s just going to try to push into him, sink up to the knuckles dry and make Hux beg and writhe on his hand. His painfully hard cock twitches at the thought, leaking profusely against his boss’s thigh. But Ren only lightly strokes his fingers between Hux’ tense, smarting cheeks, as if declaring future ownership, before pulling them out.

“Next time,” he murmurs, primarily to himself but the words still turn Hux’s remaining strength to jelly.

Ren pulls his head up by the collar, other hand clamping on Hux’s hip to situate him properly upright. Hux whimpers as he’s forced to sit on his smarting bottom, the obvious erection in Ren’s pants not helping as it rubs against his chafed skin. The tips of his shoes still can’t reach the floor, so instead he hooks them behind Ren’s calves. Numbness radiates from the hips down, leaving his legs tingling as they try to regain sensation.

Though he makes soothing noises in Hux’s ear, Ren doesn’t allow him much freedom to alleviate the pain in his bruised ass, holding his assistant firmly atop his lap and really letting feel the impact of every strike.

“Don’t cry, Hux. Can’t have my personal assistant crying like this. Though you did take your punishment like a pro,” Ren hums, considering like he’s actually magnanimous instead of a teasing bastard. “Do you think you’ve earned a reward for being so good?”

Truly, Hux wants nothing more than to tell him to fuck off, that he doesn’t need to be patted on the head like a dog, that he doesn’t want any kind of praise or award from this vile man. Before Ren had taken him over his lap, when Hux still flourished with confidence, he might’ve done that. But instead he nods, because he’s still hard, and Ren’s approving croon is the only thing he can cling to now with his pride so bruised and broken down.

Shh. It’s alright, baby. I’ll take care of you now.” Now Ren’s speaking like they’re on some kind of romantic engagement, like he’s a perfect gentleman eager to please his date, rather than a debauched scoundrel abusing his position of power.

Ren’s brings his broad hand around Hux’s waist to his crotch, practically covering all of it with his palm. He uses the same one he spanked Hux with to tug at his cock, finally getting proper friction and pressure around the painfully needy length. Hux whimpers, resting his head back against Ren’s shoulder as he looks in shame down the length of his body, past his rumpled tie and dress shirt to where Ren jerks him off. The tip of his cock pulses painfully red in Ren’s fist, ready to go off at any moment.

“You’ve got such a sweet little cock Hux. Imagine how cutely it’ll bounce and twitch when I finally get a chance to fuck you.”

Hux moans as Ren bucks his hips up off the chair, grinding his bulge against his sore ass. It hurts, but not enough to flag Hux’s erection, not as Ren squeezes and rubs it in his palm. His hand is so big it encircles his entire cock with room to spare, enrobing it completely in warmth and pressure. Hux presses his fingers to his lips, kissing the bitten marks on his knuckles like a string of prayer beads. When Ren squeezes the tip of his cock between two fingers, he whimpers in pleasure.  

Ren feathers his lips down the side of his neck, chasing the current of his pulse, able to kiss him now that Hux sits upwards in his lap. His cologne fills Hux’s nose, making him feel tipsy. His head lolls back slightly against Ren’s broad shoulder and he moans. Like this, it’s almost easy to pretend they’re a couple engaging in a tryst, and forget about how Ren had smacked his ass raw only a few minutes before. Almost. The stinging in his ass eats holes in that illusion.

“That’s it, baby. Come on. Come for me.” Ren strokes him faster, murmuring beneath his ear. Hux arches his back away from his chest, inadvertently grinding his injured ass harder against Ren’s bulge. He wonders if he’ll be expected to care for that too. He can picture Ren forcing him down on trembling knees, unzipping his pants and allowing that monster to spring free. Hux hasn’t seen it but he can feel how large it is pressed against his rear. He’s not sure he’d be able nor willing to fit all of it into his mouth. But Ren would make it fit. He would use Hux’s mouth like a toy for his pleasure, and he would be forced to kneel there and take it.

Ren squeezes his hip with his free hand, nails digging into Hux’s skin. The murmurs of praise against his neck gradually morph into open-mouthed kisses, then bites and audible, lurid suckling. Hux shivers, imagining the inevitable mark, spread like a disease and far too high for him to conceal with his collar. He must look completely lewd, bruised and panting in his boss’s lap, the very picture of corporate debauchery.

Hux thrusts his hips up against Ren’s hand, desperate for even more friction on his cock, arousal as hot and throbbing as his inflamed rear. Beforehand he might’ve scoffed at such a show of neediness, but at this point he’s already spent all his dignity. Ren’s reduced him to this, a shell of his usual perfection and professionalism. Nothing more than a receptacle for his boss’s sadism, his twisted pleasures.  

The pain from Hux’s spanked behind feeds into his arousal, so tightly wound it doesn’t take long for him to climax. Ren strokes him through it, squeezing and massaging until Hux’s come dribbles down his shaft and over his fingers. For a moment, Hux thinks he’s going to smear the soiled hand against his dress shirt, just to humiliate him further, but Ren actually reaches for the box of tissues on the desk to clean himself. He even wipes Hux up, and pulls his briefs back around his hips. He kisses Hux’s earlobe softly, before giving it a sharp nip.

“I’d love to get my cock inside you, baby. Really. But my assistant gets pissed when I’m late to meetings.” Hux flinches, practically feeling Ren’s smirk crawl against his neck. “I’m gonna have to let you go, so I can take care of business.”

Hux feels like his legs will give out if he tries to stand up after all that, but Ren doesn’t give him an option, nor a moment to properly prepare himself as he pushes Hux up out of his lap. He stumbles forward, bracing his hands against the edge of the desk for a moment, before remembering that his pants still sit about his ankles. Well aware that Ren is probably looking him up and down, no doubt with that satisfied smirk on his face, Hux yanks up his pants as quickly as he can and struggles to belt them around his waist, eyes fixed on the glossy surface of the desk below. Briefly, with his mind still loose from the orgasm, he imagines what it might be like for Ren to push him down atop it and fuck him raw with the monstrous cock he teased him with.

Once situated as well as he can be Hux hurries out of Ren’s office, humiliation burning in his face and ass, not caring how loudly he slams the door. It rattles the decorative frames on his walls, the noise quickly echoing into nothingness. Hux balls one hand into a fist and presses it against his forehead, trying to breathe.  

Sitting down doesn’t seem like much of an option. Maybe he could scream, or throw something. Anything to deal with the confusion of feelings roiling up inside of him as he struggles to processall that.  

Hux would’ve almost preferred a firing. Because he still hates the hell out of Kylo Ren. Probably more than ever before. But it’s more than just that now. It’s worse.

He’s also hopelessly attracted to him.