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worlds to conquer

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Hux draws back with a snarl. He’s panting. His fingers are slick with oil. He’s kneeling between Kylo Ren’s legs at the edge of Ren’s bed in Ren’s quarters and Kylo is naked in front of him, a pale sprawl on dark sheets, cock straining up towards him, hair mussed, lips bitten and red, dark eyes wide and hungry and – nervous?

“What?” Hux asks. It comes out breathy and desperate; he curses himself. Kylo laid out like that in front of him is a feast for the eyes – for all the senses, really – the thought strikes Hux that Kylo ought to be kept unaware of his effect on people or he will surely find someone else than Hux to lavish the bounty of his lanky body on. “What?” Hux asks, trying to regulate his tone. He is aware that he only partially succeeds. Kylo ought to be equally aware but – Kylo is preoccupied. “What?” Hux says again, and this time it is mostly annoyed.

Kylo doesn’t look at him. It is hard not to; they are so close; Kylo turns his face on the pillow and mumbles something.

“What?” Hux asks, a fourth time. His whole body is crying out in anguish at not being allowed what a moment ago had seemed – imminent. Kylo had been so pliant on his fingers; he had taken probably more time than was warranted, stretching him, capturing his little grunts in his mouth; he had spread Kylo out beneath him to better enjoy the view and –

Kylo is saying something. Hux tries to piece together what it was. Kylo is -- distracting. Perhaps, Hux thinks, a little hysterically, he only covers every inch of himself in black because he knows what a distraction even an inch of that pale skin can be. He realizes that whatever Kylo just said ended with, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Hux asks. He sounds like an idiot, he thinks, or a protocol droid. But he repeats himself. “You’re sorry?”

“I,” Kylo says. He glances up a moment as though looking for some sort of reassurance and then back down. “I haven’t—“

Hux sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. He is aware of Kylo’s attention following the gesture, like Kylo wishes it were his hand. He wonders if it is a Force thing or a Kylo thing. “What’s the matter?” he says. “You haven’t—haven’t what?”

Kylo looks up at him and he sees the bravado in his dark eyes, the uncertainty; he looks suddenly vulnerable. Then it hits him. Kylo has never – he is Kylo’s first – fucking Hell the thought is nearly enough to make him come right there.

The spike of lust is followed by something – intensely proprietary. No one has ever offered him this. He was never popular with the others in his classes; he was simply too much better at everything to be well-liked by anyone who was not an instructor or a superior. He will have this, he thinks, must have this; somehow he will persuade Ren to surrender it to him, and then he will watch and make sure that he puts the armor back on and lets no one else see him like this, or they would know how rare a prize he is and take him. He will keep him for himself, he will show him everything, he will possess every inch of him.

“You’re a virgin,” he says, trying to keep his voice level, but Kylo’s eyes look at him, curious, and he thinks he has let something slip; that Kylo can guess that he went from wanting this to needing it with an intensity that is almost frightening. “Is that all?”

“All?” Kylo asks, sounding put-out.

“That’s easily remedied,” Hux babbles; his cock twitches; this is excruciating, having Kylo Ren spread out before him ready to devour and then being told not to taste – “Unless -- are the knights of Ren not permitted to –”

“It’s not that,” Kylo says. He bites his lip. Hux has bitten that lip. He can almost feel it when Kylo does. It goes straight to his groin.

Hux surges forward and kisses him, pushes him back down against the sheets, tries to get the answer out that way. It isn’t forthcoming. The kiss is a sloppy mess of tongues and teeth.

Kylo pulls back, panting. “You want me,” he breathes, looking a little stunned.

“I should have thought that would be fairly obvious,” Hux says, biting Kylo’s lip himself this time.

“I can feel it,” Kylo says, and his voice sounds amazed.

“What?” Hux asks, trying to sound irritable. He knows he is not succeeding when Kylo smiles. There’s something a little sad in it, like he’s forgotten how to smile properly; it wants to be just smug but it’s – eager. Hopeful almost.

“It’s – ” Kylo’s eyes widen. Hux feels – naked (of course, he is naked, that’s been the case for a while; his uniform and Kylo’s robes are piled together in an untidy heap near the door) but it is more than that. He feels uncomfortably seen. It is a sensation like someone watching him from behind. It makes him nervous. His mind is not for Kylo to rifle through.

“Stop it,” he says.

“Stop what?” Kylo asks, and this is no time for teasing, Kylo should know better.

“You know quite well what,” Hux says. He rocks his hips down against Kylo’s body in a pale mimicry of what he wants to do. “Really, now.” It sounds like begging. (It is begging, Hux admits to himself.)

“What’ll you do if I say no?” Kylo asks, still smirking, glancing up – he has long eyelashes, Hux realizes.

“You won’t,” Hux says, smiling his hard practiced smile, all mouth, no eyes. 

“What if I did?” Kylo asks. He reaches up and pushes a stray lock of Hux’s hair out of his face. It feels like a caress but Hux can feel the searching pressure of Kylo’s mind against his mind. “Would you force me? I can feel you thinking of it; so desperate; you don’t think you could overpower me, you’re right, but that doesn’t stop you picturing it; but –no–” Kylo looks puzzled, “that’s not it—you want me to want you, is that it? To enjoy it?”

“Stop it,” Hux says.

“So – hungry,” Kylo murmurs, leaving his fingers there, tracing one down Hux’s cheek. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Evidently not,” Hux tries, “if you’re a virg--“

Kylo bites the word out of his mouth. The kiss is violent; he expects Kylo’s lips will be bruised and sore by morning. Good, he thinks. He hears something almost like a chuckle. Their eyes meet. He wonders how his own must look, what it is that Kylo sees in them. Whatever it is, it is enough.

“All right,” Kylo says.

Hux watches him swallow.

“Do it,” Kylo says, suddenly, quickly, eyes darting up and then back down. “I’m ready now. I want you to.” He shifts position beneath Hux, tries to splay himself into something more inviting. It’s – inept and a little innocent and makes something in Hux jump; there’s a feeling in his chest like a hand clenching. You don’t want to protect him, he thinks, he doesn’t need protecting.

“Don’t say no to me again,” he says, but his voice is wrecked, breathy; he has to lean down and kiss Kylo again, maybe to cover it, maybe he just wants to kiss him, he tries not to know the answer.

It’s already almost too much. Hux tries to get himself under control. He thinks of the classes of ships, starts listing them – he used to do this to sleep instead of counting banthas --

“You think about ships?” Kylo asks, sounding amused.

“I want to last,” Hux says, trying to sound irritable. “If I don’t you’ll have rather a poor time of it.”

“I could,” Kylo starts, and his eyes flicker up to meet Hux’s own, “I could help you. With my powers. I could keep you from—“

Hux nods, once, sharply. Then he catches Kylo’s mouth with his, bites the lip hard. Kylo grunts. They seem to have the same ideas about how these things should go. He feels an unfamiliar pressure in his groin, a prickling warmth in the back of his mind, running over his thoughts like a touch, and he thinks, that’s you? almost quietly, like a question, and hears the answer, that’s me do you like it and -- it’s strange – he thinks don’t touch anything and gets back an unconvincing wouldn’t almost instantaneously.

Better to distract him, then, he thinks. He slides his fingers back into Kylo, one at a time, works them until he’s writhing and gasping; he tries not to think about how beautiful Kylo looks like that, not to think, no one's ever made him like this before, I’m the only one; he kisses him hard and sloppy, hint of stubble burning along his chin.

“Can I, now?” he asks, panting, and the answer is both within him and outside; it’s almost a physical pull. He thrusts into Kylo and then waits to move, sheathes himself slowly inch by inch, watching Kylo’s face. The pressure within him builds and just when it’s too much, when the velvety heat and tightness is threatening to undo him, he can feel something like a blast door close, tight, containing it. Kylo is perspiring, face screwed up with concentration and – discomfort. He waits.

“How is it?” Hux asks. “Can you manage?”

“Is that all?” Kylo asks.

Hux barks out a laugh. He pulls out and then slams back in, beginning to find a rhythm. Kylo’s eyes are shut. He wishes they were open, hears why and he can’t help thinking of all the times he’s seen Kylo’s eyes, dark and inexplicably warm, not cold like space, how they say things without meaning to, how he wants to look in those eyes when he spends and see what Kylo thinks of him, he thinks because I like knowing what you’re thinking before Kylo can hear because you have beautiful eyes.

Kylo’s eyes flicker open and he feels another surge of excitement before Kylo's power tamps it down; he can hear Kylo thinking don’t. 

“I’m not," he breathes. He still hasn’t found the right spot; he has to; he wants to. He gestures to make Kylo lift his legs, settles them on his shoulders, and thrusts again. This time Kylo gasps and he does it again. And again. Kylo’s head is thrashing on the pillow, Kylo is – harder deeper please I can take it– and Kylo keens and he can't help thinking how am I the one who gets to see you like this, why are you letting me, and Kylo thinks don’t and he tries to clear his head, focuses on thrusting and Kylo is writhing, gasping, sobbing, his hair is drenched in sweat and clinging to his face. He’s perfect. The thought makes Kylo blush. That makes it worse. He wants to come. But he can’t. Kylo is struggling to hold him back; he can feel jagged spikes of pressure, urgency, before Kylo tamps them down; he can still feel Kylo’s presence humming at the back of his mind, but it feels lighter, more scattered. He pulls out and Kylo whines at the loss; he is a mess; he suspects they are both messes; he drags Kylo to the edge of the bed and stands up and starts driving into him like that, and Kylo is – loud. Louder than he expected. It’s perfection. It’s hell. He wants to come. He wants to keep at this for days. He wants to hear every sound Kylo can make. Kylo gasps, eyes screwed shut, and he feels something coming loose, and then Kylo grits his teeth and focuses and tightens his control again.

“Kylo,” he gasps, thrusting in again, and – what he wouldn’t give for a holo of this, "please." Let go, he thinks, I want to watch you, and he reaches a hand to wrap it around Kylo’s cock, begins to stroke, and Kylo emits a desperate beautiful noise that is almost musical and almost animal at the same time.

Let go, Hux thinks again, driving in again, and he can feel the control slipping; with the next thrust he is coming; the pressure inside him has let up; he stays buried in Kylo’s ass as Kylo comes into his hand. Kylo’s almost sobbing with relief.

Hux collapses on top of him. He runs a hand through Kylo’s damp hair. Kylo sighs. Hux sighs. They are a sticky tangle of limbs from which he does not wish to extricate himself. For a long while they say nothing.

“An admirable performance for a first-timer,” he says.

“Thank you,” Kylo says, a little awkwardly.

They lie there.

“You think about ships,” Kylo says. “To help yourself sleep.”

“It’s been a long time since I did that,” Hux says.

There’s a silence.

“I used to,” Kylo says, “too.”

Hux feels a wave of irritation; he hates this part of himself, hates that it has found an answering part in Kylo. He wishes they were both what they appear to be. He buries his face in Kylo’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Kylo says.

“You’re not in my head,” Hux says.

There’s a silence. He feels Kylo’s fingers in his hair, tracing the outline of his ear. “Can I be?” Kylo asks.

Hux yawns. “What if I say no?”

“You won’t.”

Hux shifts. “Could I?”

“Are you?”

“Not this time,” Hux says. He swallows. He can feel Kylo’s mind pushing against his, probing uncertainly at it. “What are you looking for?”

The pressure in his mind is different, like Kylo is trying to be careful. He feels Kylo searching. Kylo finds an image of himself, eyes flickering open, lips parted, shoving back to meet a thrust, and he feels a strange surge from Kylo’s direction of something almost like pride. “I was all right.”

“You were magnificent,” Hux says, trying to make it sound ironic. It doesn’t quite manage to.

“Can I—“ Kylo asks, and there’s that – curious reticence to him again, that makes him seem younger than he is – “can I stay in here for a little while?”

Hux sighs, turns to look at him.

“I like your mind –” Kylo blurts out, “it’s quieter than mine.”

“Better organized,” Hux says, wry twist of his mouth. Kylo nods, ruefully. “What do I get out of it?” Hux asks. “Do you ward off nightmares?”

There’s a silence. “I can try,” Kylo says.

“I was joking,” Hux says.

“You were and you weren’t,” Kylo says.

Hux yawns.

When he dreams it is neither a dream nor a nightmare, exactly. He is walking along a long narrow bridge in a fog and Kylo is there beside him. They don’t say anything to each other. Once or twice the backs of their hands brush. He feels no less frightened, but somewhat less alone.