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The shot that rang out over the quiet dawn was almost alarmingly loud. Lord Kylo Ren’s shriek of pain was louder. The behemoth stumbled as he took a hit to his left shoulder, grasping at the soft white fabric of his shirt that now bloomed red with blood.
“You fucking hit me!” He whined, petulantly. Hux sighed, eyes rolling to the heavens as if to beseech mercy from an indifferent God. None heard his silent plea so he fixed his gaze back on the pouting fool twelve paces from him.
“That is the point of a duel, you bloody moron. You are lucky I aimed for a less vital organ,” Sir Armitage Hux drawled as he handed his second, Mitaka, his still smoking pistol. Mitaka extracted it from his hands like one might handle a snake, a look of distaste and frank reproach coloring his usually impassive face. Hux felt something akin to discomfort at the idea of Mitaka’s censure. Odd, that.
“I know what a duel means, you complete and utter ass. I am simply shocked that you, of all people, managed to aim accurately, ” Kylo gritt out between clenched teeth while Phasma fussed over his wound. All feelings of guilt immediately vacated Hux’s person.
“You know I’m a good shot, Ren. You should never have challenged me.” Leisurely, Hux made his way over to the injured man, avoiding directly looking at his wife. Though he felt little guilt for taking Ren up on his challenge, he did feel something for Phasma. She, after all, had the foresight to never challenge a person lest they truly deserved it.
Even while sitting, Ren was something of a beast. The man was only a few inches taller than Hux yet he took up an immense amount of space. Facing him was a bit like facing a fuming bear. One was always in fear he would lash out. Especially when injured.
“You should have never insulted me,” Ren snapped, eyes focused and sharp on his erstwhile opponent. Hux simply smiled the self satisfied smile only a victor could possess. Ren, for his part, fixed him with a glare that would have had another man flee for his life. It was good Hux was made of stronger stuff. Or, as some might suggest, an utter lack of self preservation.
“My apologies, Ren,” he replied in a tone that was not in the slightest bit apologetic.“But some things are too apparent not to call out. I am an honest man, after all.” Ren harrumphed at that, eyes rolling. Hux simply chuckled.
“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Would you like to try this again?” Ren asked as he waved the pistol in his hand around. Phasma flinched as the barrel pointed in her direction. She, smartly, extracted it from his hands before he could do any damage. Hux noticed, with some curiosity, that she wore a similar expression as Mitaka as she fixed Ren with a pointed look. For a moment Ren’s anger abated as he looked over at Phasma, eyes soft as he gazed upon his wife. It was a tenderness that Hux was not often privy to but he had witnessed it on occasion. Though the pair were as controlled as any proper English couple there was no doubt that their marriage was one of affection.
“ I’m a glutton for punishment? Who here is bleeding?” Hux gestured to Ren’s bandaged wound, as he attempted to distract himself from another pang of guilt.
“You’re a sore winner,” the colossus grumbled. Hux laughed good naturedly.
“That I am. What can I say? I dearly love to gloat,” he drawled. Phasma shot him a look as if to warn him of an impending strike but he paid her no heed. He knew Ren. Though ornery and impetuous, he had enough sense to know when he had been bested.
“Oh dear God, just leave me,” Ren whined. “Go back to your lovely wife and leave me to suffer in peace.” The behemoth attempted a dismissive wave but the action made him wince and Phasma huffed an angry reprimand. Hux noticed, with some alarm, that Ren’s face looked rather pale.
“I’m happy to. Do take care, Ren. I loathe to admit it, but I would be a bit put out if you shuffled off this mortal coil.” Hux placed a kind hand on Ren’s good shoulder. His friend looked at him with a rye smile, head shaking in disbelief.
“Then why did you shoot me? Seems to undermine your intention,” Ren pointed out.
“Had to knock you down a peg. Couldn’t have you think I liked you too much, now could I?” Ren laughed, wincing when the force of it disturbed his wound. Phasma tutted as she went to fix his bandages.
“Go. Lovely Rose awaits,” she commanded Hux, gesturing to his carriage without looking up from her task. Hux bowed to Ren and Phasma and made to leave, Mitaka in tow.
Lovely Rose . His wife was rather lovely. Beautiful, even. Exquisite in the moonlight. These things were etched in his mind like natural facts. His wife’s radiance was as apparent as the blue of the sky or the bright yellow light of the afternoon sun. All a man could do was bask in the warmth she emitted and gaze into the rolling depths of her glorious figure.
Oh how things had changed from their first meeting six months prior.
They had been enemies, two souls locked in an impending marriage of convenience. She: a wealthy heiress to a merchant family who desperately needed the respect of a title. He: a piss poor bastard son of a neerdowell lord who was in desperate need of funds. They were a perfect match on paper but an abhorrent one in person. She was a willful little bluestocking and he was a snobbish and stubborn oaf. From the start of their acquaintance all they did was bicker.
Their arguments before their engagement were cutting. Each word spoken between them was as sharp as a blade and wounded just as deeply. Every meeting ended in words spoken through clenched teeth and barely restrained shouts of rage. And each argument awoke passions that Hux could barely contain. Odd thing, that.
He had been mortified the first time her clever words and sparkling eyes made his cock stiffen in his breeches. She had, gratefully, not noticed but he had to remove himself from the company of others to take care of his sinful urges lest he embarrass himself. He had thought it was an aberration but when it happened again he realized that their battle of words was also kindling for the fire of his lust. And it was utterly and terribly inconvenient. Especially for a man who prided himself in winning every duel, verbal or otherwise.
But the truth of the matter was, arguing with Rose was as close to the thrill of bedsport one could get with their clothes on. Perhaps it was the flush of her cheeks when she sparred with him. Or the way her generous breasts tried to escape the confines of her low cut bodice. Or perhaps it was the way her dark eyes lit up like two dancing flames. Whatever it was, whatever devilish combination of features, he was utterly enthralled by her beautiful rage. It was intoxicating, like brandy down a dry throat. He thirsted for it like one would water in the desert. Bloody inconvenient.
For a time he was sure he was alone in this perverse affliction. To him there was no hope of reciprocation. Rose’s distaste for him was too much and his desires were too strange, to be sure. When he asked for her hand he was almost positive she would reject him. Instead she had simply nodded her beautiful head, her face consumed by an alluring blush. To say it took him by surprise would have been the understatement of the century.
“Are you sure, Miss Tico?” He had asked, brows raised in utter shock.
“Of course I am sure, Hux,” she had snapped back, peevishly.
“Am I permitted to kiss you, then? To seal our betrothal?” He dared. Hux had known he was testing his limits but he wanted to touch her so desperately it made his skin itch.
“You may,” she had all but whispered.
Their first kiss was a bit awkward, just a small brush of the lips. The kisses that followed were anything but. The passion that had been simmering under the surface arose to a roceous boil. The only thing that stopped them from taking their marital rights behind the shrubbery was the fear of discovery and a distaste for getting leaves in places they ought not be.
Their wedding could not come soon enough. Each moment they spent together they either fought like tomcats or let their other passions take hold. Hands, teeth, and tongues were employed in the pursuit of quelling the raging inferno that flourished between them. Any moment they had alone they grabbed and pulled at each other with lustful urgency.
On one occasion, Hux had feasted on Rose’s sweet little cunny in the library of Starkiller estate while her mother and his step-mother discussed flower arrangements one room over. Rose had looked so utterly beautiful, skin pink from the flush of ecstasy, hand over her mouth so she would not alert the others to her debauchery. She achieved ecstacy with a gush, eyes rolling back as she shook with pleasure. Hux grinned like a fool as he watched her come undone, exceedingly proud and even worse, utterly besotted. He kept grinning until she took him in hand, getting him off with a few strong strokes. Knocked him down a peg, that. Though he had to admit it was well worth it to be humbled in such a way.
There was no doubt that the physical aspect of their marriage was well in order before they even uttered I do. Emotional intimacy, on the other hand, was a bit more tricky for two stubborn fools. It took some time and copious amounts of love making but slowly and with great deal of diverting humor their words transformed from biting to teasing and had settled on tenderness. It was new and strange but Hux had to admit he enjoyed this development more than he thought possible. It suited him to have at least one person in the world who thought highly of him. It complimented his general air of superiority.
Rose, for her part, did much to inspire tenderness. More so than he would have ever dreamed possible. She was remarkably clever, astoundingly witty, and had such kindness in her it stopped his breath. Sometimes he worried that he had become some sighing love addled simpleton. And sometimes he did not worry at all. Now, all he could muster was slight irritation at the fact that he was not currently luxuriating in Rose’s warm embrace. Throughout the whole ordeal of his little duel with Ren his mind had often traveled to images of her bathed in dawn light, gentle snores passing her full lips. It was a charming thought and he wanted nothing more than to be beside her. It was damn inconvenient but it was true. And as he climbed into his carriage he endeavored to make that rather domestic desire a reality.
****
Golden dawn light filtered through the linen curtains that hung over the large windows in Rose’s bedroom. It made nice patterns along the blue walls, catching on the gilt paint that was etched into the luxurious floral mural. For a somewhat humble country estate, the Hux home was rather beautiful. She was not a materialist, but Rose did love all things beautiful and it warmed her beyond reason that her home was so pleasing to the eye. Just as her husband was. The very same husband who was attempting to enter her room unnoticed. Rose laid perfectly still, one eye cracked open as she watched said husband try to slip into her bed with almost comically overexaggerated gentleness. She had not seen anything so amusing since her last visit to the London theater and that had been some time ago.
Despite her bemused annoyance, Rose could not help but admire her husband's visage. The soft glow of early sunlight cast his hair in an almost bronze glow and his pale skin took on an uncharastic warmth. If it were at all possible he looked even more beautiful than he usually did. His allure, though great, did not stop Rose from feeling the knaw of suspicion. What on earth had him rising so early?
“What has kept you from my bed, husband?” She mumbled as she moved to wrap her arms around Hux’s lithe torso. He jumped a little, surprised by her wakefulness. She reveled in her ability to shock him.
“None of your concern, my love. Go back to sleep,” he replied as he stroked strands of hair away from her face in an attempt to soothe away her look of displeasure. She glared up at him, eyes narrowed further. He had grown tender over the course of their marriage but not that tender.
“What concerns you concerns me. Do you not recall the vows we made?” She countered. A small smile fell over his face as he looked down on her and a mischievous glint sparkled in his sea green eyes.
“I do. I distinctly remember one that required your obedience” he replied. Oh, he knew how to get under her skin. Even though she was well aware that he only said such things to get a rise out of her it did not stop the swell of indignation in her chest. She married a devil not a man!
“Do not vex me, husband. At least not so early in the day.” She said as she gave him a playful pinch, that veered a little toward vengeance. He laughed as he squirmed away from her vindictive touch.
“I wouldn’t dare, my love.” He settled back into place no longer fearful she would seek more retribution.
Rose laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she closed her eyes, suddenly ready to fall back into the tender embrace of sleep. She wondered if her desire for repose had anything to do with the tender embrace of her husband . It would fit the pattern. She had a tendency to feel all too secure in the safety of his arms. Ugh, how could she be so soft toward him? At one time she found him intolerable and now she was some simpering fool who found his absence intolerable. Disgusting. Best to counter such softness with biting humor.
“Do not lie, sweet husband,” she said with sickly sweetness. “You enjoy vexing me almost as much as you love to fuck me.” She felt his startled chuckle more than she heard it. It rumbled through his chest like thunder and she soaked it up like the earth does rain.
“My wife has a vile tongue,” Hux admonished with very little bite.
“Oh hush, you like my tongue.”
“I cannot deny it. Your tongue is very clever.” His tone dipped dangerously low, a reminder of all the devilish things their tongues could get up to...later. The hour was too early to stoke the fires of lust.
“It is, indeed. Do not forget it.” She mumbled, eyelids starting to feel heavy as the desire to fall back into dreams overtook her.
“Go back to sleep, my love. The day has not yet started.” Rose felt the gentle caress of her husband's hand along the expanse of her back and rode the rolling waves of his rising and falling chest. She wondered distantly if this was paradise. It certainly felt close to it. Drat, she thought, this is love, isn’t it?
“Just this once I will obey.” She whispered before she surrendered to sleep and to the ever increasing knowledge that she loved her husband a bit too much.
****
Hux awoke alone. Bloody awful, that. He had gotten rather accustomed to waking up beside his wife and he felt rather bereft when he was the sole occupant of their marriage bed. He was surprised he had fallen asleep at all but he supposed the morning’s exertions could have tired him out. Not to mention the calming effect his sleeping wife had on him. She was all soft warmth in that state, sweetness in corporal form. In many ways his wife was all things good and beautiful but when she was asleep beside him she transcended all mortal description. She was divinely rendered in repose and gloriously human when awake.
By God, when did he become so bloody poetic ?
Hux extracted himself from bed and made his way over to Rose’s vanity. Folded neatly on the chair was his waistcoat and other accoutrements. He smiled as he put it on, its gentle handling evidence of his wife’s care.
He made his way to the dining room, the smell of breakfast luring him like a rat to a trap.
Rose sat at the head of the table, as was her want. Her head was bowed over the morning paper, tendrils of her curled hair falling around her shoulders. She wore a sturdy burgundy day dress made of muslin, practical but fetchingly snug against her rather generous chest. She was a lovely picture, framed by the ornate floral wallpaper behind her.
“Good morning,” he said as he took his seat beside her. She looked up from her paper with narrowed eyes and a frown on her lovely face. To say that was not the greeting he expected would have been a rather egregious understatement.
“Have you read the paper, my love?” She asked as she waved the item in his face. The term of endearment my love sounded much more like an epithet in the current tone she was employing.
“Afraid I haven’t had the time,” he replied smoothly as he spread his napkin over his lap.
“No games, sir.” Oh no, this was bad. Sir was never a good sign. He looked up at her with an expression he hoped was sympathetic.
“What is in the paper, dear?” He kept his voice level. Perhaps he could stay her anger with reserved calm. It was a dim hope but he held onto it nonetheless.
“According to today’s issue of The Resistance -“
“Oh good Lord, not that rag,” he spat, eyes rolling. She fixed him with a hard glare.
“Excuse me, sir . You are well aware that I am a contributor to this very publication from time to time and I would beg you not to besmirch it’s good name.” It was true that Rose wrote articles on women’s issues under a pseudonym. He was quite proud of her accomplishments and found her argumentation well crafted and exceptionally witty but he did not like the fact that she wrote for a glorified gossip paper. It was beneath her. Or so he thought.
“Good name, my arse,” Hix grumbled as he picked at his toast.
“I’ll have your arse for breakfast if you do not shut your mouth!” She chastised him, color blooming on her cheeks. The sight of her flush stirred Hux in ways he had become rather accustomed to and he felt the twin emotions of lust and irritation rise within him.
“Apologies, my dear, do continue.” He ushered her on with a wave of his hand. Perhaps her recitation of the article would squash his lust. One could only hope.
“As I was saying,” she began, “according to this article ‘two gentlemen of great esteem, who we shall refer to as Sir Fox and Lord Hen, were engaged in a duel during the wee hours of the morning. As the names might suggest, Lord Hen did not walk away victorious, sustaining an injury to his left shoulder. According to witnesses, who shall not be named, the two parted as friends. Hard to believe, but such is the way of the ton.’ ”
“Interesting,” was his cool reply. All he could say, really. It was rather obvious who the article was talking about. There was no way of getting out of this one.
“Interesting?” She replied, voice frighteningly steady. Hux simply nodded as he took a bite of his sausage.
“Yes. It’s a diverting bit of gossip, don’t you think?” The look she gave him was deadly.
“Armitage, do not play me for a fool. It dishonors us both,” she snapped. He sighed as he sat back throwing his napkin on the table with a huff of irritation.
“Who wrote it? Dameron? It has his stink all over it. Sir Fox and Lord Hen . He thinks he’s so clever.” The jig was up. Might as well complain about Mr. Dameron’s writing skills instead of dealing with the consequences of his actions.
“I thought it was rather clever,” Rose replied coolly. Hux never liked it when she complimented Dameron.
“Oh please, Rose. It sounds like the prattling of a child.”
She merely shrugged. “I would take it as a compliment. Foxes are exceedingly smart and rather handsome.” Damn she was clever. The well placed complement set him to preening and he forgot all about his righteous indignation.
“Hmm. Well, I find his choice of subject distasteful.” His complaint was all bluster. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be mad when his wife looked so enticing with that furious glint in her eye.
“Well I find your behavior rather distasteful,” she replied sharply, her lips down turned. Her tone was laced with disappointment and a touch of true hurt. His heart clenched at the sound.
“I am dreadfully sorry, my love. If it’s any consolation I did not challenge Ren, he challenged me.” This clarification did not stay his wife’s rage. Drat.
“And you goaded him to the challenge, no doubt.” Unfortunately, Rose’s assertion was all too correct. How irritating that she knew him so damn well.
“I cannot help that he behaves like a spoiled child.” Hux had a sneaking suspicion he was pouting. Judging by the look on Rose’s face, his suspicion was correct.
“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Armitage.”
He sputtered at that. “Are you suggesting that I behave like Ren ?”
“You are very much alike, the two of you. It is why you enjoy needling each other, I dare say.” Rose looked down at the paper once more, attempting to continue reading as if she was done with the conversation, her piece said. Hux, on the other hand, was not finished.
“Do not insult me, Rose. I wonder if I should not challenge you to a duel for such a vile pronouncement.” She looked up sharply, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
“I would be willing to accept. Our duels tend to be more pleasurable in nature.” Hux could not help the grin that spread across his face. Though arguing with one’s wife was not always pleasant, arguing with Rose had the tendency to produce desirable results.
“Indeed. Should I throw my glove down so we can commence with the proceedings?” Hux was nearly giddy with excitement. His mind practically reeled with images of Rose spread out on the dining table like another course of breakfast ready to be devoured. What a lovely picture that would make.
His wife, however, was not quite ready to celebrate their conciliation. “In a moment, I have more to say on the subject of your previous duel.”
“But I grow tired of discussing it.”
“Listen to you whine like a child.” She was right of course, he was whining, but the accusation still stung and it set him to pouting. Rose was not amused.
“Stop this foolishness at once, Armitage. You are no longer a boy full of bitterness and misplaced resentment. You knew Ren would react badly to whatever snide comment you could not help but make and you let it go on too far. What if he had been a better shot? Hmm? Should I be a widow at three and twenty?” Real pain flashed across his wife’s face and Hux, the coward he was, shied away from it.
“Ren couldn’t hit the broad side of a cow at six paces. There was no hope of him ever hitting me at twelve,” he grumbled, attempting to distract from his wound with humor. Rose’s expression softened a fraction and he felt his souring mood lift a bit.
“Every dog has their day, my love. He could have maimed you or worse and all over some nasty little joke. If you will not think of your safety or my own heart think of the guilt it would have caused him if he had succeeded. Think of your own guilt knowing that you have.” Damn her for finding the niggling feeling he had wished, so desperately, to hide.
“Ren will be fine.” Even to his own ears the pronouncement sounded hollow.
“Indeed he will but I know your heart and I can see you do not feel as victorious as you thought.”
Hux sighed. He’d been found out. Best to admit to his weakness. “I have become too bloody soft. I blame your influence.”
Rose’s lips curled into a self satisfied smile. “Oh hush, it was always there I just ferreted out.”
“It pains me but I will concede the point. Happy wife, happy life and so on,” he replied with a wave of his hand. He felt the warmth of satisfaction at the sound of his wife’s light chuckle. He felt even better when she rose from her seat and made her way toward him, gracing his lips with a sweet and searing kiss.
“No more dueling then?” She asked when they broke apart. He looked up at her and smiled. She was so very beautiful with her cheeks flushed and affection in her eyes. He was sure that all the words of love he did not speak aloud were written across his face. Based on the soft and misty look Rose gave him, he was right.
“None without you, darling,” he replied as he reached up to stroke her cheek. She smiled impishly before she spoke.
“Good. Now beg for my forgiveness.” Her tone was that of a queen commanding her most loyal subject.
“Do I not have it?” He quirried.
She shrugged. “Perhaps, but I must see a demonstration of your contrition.” Hux could not help but smile. He knew exactly her aim and was all too happy to see it out.
“On my knees, then?”
Rose’s sensual grin was almost blinding in its beauty. “That’s a start.”
****
Through the course of their marriage Rose’s husband had become rather adept at acts of contrition. To be fair, this particular act he was performing with unparalleled skill, was one he had begun employing well before vows were ever exchanged. Even now, months after their first rendezvous in the library, she could not begin to understand the magic that was his tongue on her most delicate regions. It was simply divine. Each swirl of that marvelous appendage around her quivering cunt was something close to ecstasy. His long fingers drawing in and out of her with perfectly timed thrusts were beyond earthly description. He played her like a wonderfully tuned instrument that emitted gasps and moans instead of musical notes.
“Such- oh -a good husband.”
She praised him just like she knew he liked. Hux moaned into her, the vibrations making her hips jump. Her fingers carded through his hair, encouragingly as he brought her closer and closer to her release. She whined as he curled those exquisite fingers inside of her hitting just the right spot.
“Yes, my love, please, please, please…” Rose’s words were a wanton slur, spilling from her lips as her body shook in ecstacy. Her eyes rolled back as her every nerve lit up with pleasure. For the space of a moment Rose wondered if she could die from such a thing. In truth, it wouldn’t be such a terrible way to go.
When she finally came back to herself Hux was looking up at her with a lovely mix of admiration and smug satisfaction. If she had any talent when it came to the visual arts she would have preserved that look for eternity so she could gaze upon it until her dying day. Oh how she adored him and despised him in turn! Love of course won out in the end but that spark of annoyance that always seemed to burn in her was equally satisfying, as if she needed one emotion to sustain the other. Was love like that? Did she love him despite his needling or because of it? She thought it might be so. For love felt like a thing so strange and complex that it could make room for smugness and adoration within its bizarre structure. What a bewildering thing to experience. And what a wonderful thing as well.
“Am I forgiven?” Hux asked as he stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. For some ungodly reason, Rose found the gesture utterly beguiling.
“Yes.” He grinned at her breathless tone. He planted his hands on either side of her prone form, making the table creak slightly under his weight. Their faces were so very close she could count the smattering of freckles that decorated the bridge of his nose. She found them rather lovely and sweetly boyish.
“May I kiss you?” He asked.
“Yes.” And he did, thoroughly and soundly. Rose was very grateful for the table beneath her. If he had attempted such a kiss standing she would have likely swooned at the sensation.
When they broke, breath heaving, he looked at her like he might swallow her whole. To be fair he practically did a moment ago.
“May I take you on this table?” His voice was a low rumble colored by lust and something else undefinable.
“Haven’t you before?” She asked. And in truth he had bent her over the expanse of their dining table a handful of times. Something about being taken on a table was rather thrilling and elicit in nature. Sure they had done some more daring things in their time but Rose found the slight strangeness of making love to her husband in their lovely dining room plenty naughty.
“Yes, but I still like to ask.” He liked to ask . It was such a small little thing but he did ask, every single time. It should not have filled her with such strong emotion but so many men did not think to do it. He was many things, her husband, and one of them was exceedingly considerate of her feelings.
“Very well. My answer is a resounding and hearty: yes.” She giggled as he pulled her to the very edge of the table, pushing her skirts up to her waist so he could properly ravage her. How very nice of him.
“Thank God,” he mumbled before he took her. And for the rest of the morning Rose was engaged in all manner of amorous activities with her loving husband. Hux brought her to ecstasy no less than four times and Rose could not help but think that dueling was not quite as bad as she had previously thought. Well, not dueling in the traditional sense at least.