Kylo Ren confesses his love like he does all things - with a straight face and loads of unnecessary circumstance, as if everything he is, was, and ever will be hinges on one moment. He trembles as he takes General Hux’s hands in both of his own, eyes glittering with the emotion he so often tries to hide from all others. “I love you,” he says, voice little more than a whisper as they stand together in an empty conference room. He somehow manages to look furious as he makes his confession. “Ardently.”
For a moment Hux can only stare, hands still and skin cool despite how firmly Kylo grips them. He takes his time studying the man before him. Dark eyes are framed by long lashes, delicate things that tremble against his cheekbones every time he blinks. His skin is tan and unblemished, unlike the General’s own mass of freckles scattered over pale alabaster. Kylo Ren has the face of an angel and the unbridled, simmering range of something so much more sinister.
It would be easy to lean forward and kiss him - Kylo would clearly reciprocate, if the way his eyes keep flickering down to Hux’s mouth is any indication. He could simply lean across the gap of mere inches that separates them, press their mouths together, and form an unholy alliance that would see the world trembling at their feet.
Instead Hux pulls his hand away, clasping it in the other behind his back. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he says primly. “I suggest we carry on as if it never happened.”
In the space of a moment Kylo Ren turns away from his humanity and reverts to being a Knight of Ren - stone faced and silent, carved of marble and ice. His features twist into something ugly - good. That can only be done through iron will and precise timing.
Point made and seemingly understood, General Hux gives a curt nod and steps away. He makes it all the way back to his chambers before he falls to his knees, trembling and clutching his head in his hands.
“He follows you around like a lost dog.”
His office has been quiet and still for so long, the addition of another human being makes him jump. Hux looks up, eyebrows twitching ever-so-slightly towards his hairline. It’s the closest he ever comes to looking surprised. “I’m sorry?”
Captain Phasma stands before him, tall and seemingly inhuman in her armor. Hux likes Phasma. She is ruthless and efficient, dedicated to her job, and loyal to the First Order above all else. He sees her as a kindred spirit, not that he would ever voice the sentiment out loud.
There’s a soft hissing noise as she unlocks her helmet and pulls it off. Underneath she looks extremely bored. “Lord Ren. He’s taken to following you around like the galaxy revolves around your mere presence. I’m sure you’ve noticed, astute as you are.”
Hux is unable to stop the sigh that escapes his lips as he sinks into the chair behind his desk. His datapad lies abandoned before him, scrolling through a list of sums and figures he needs to finish reviewing before he retires for the night. He doesn’t have the time for this, nor the patience.
“I appreciate your concern, Captain, and I assure you I’ve dealt with the issue. Now if you please, I have reports to finish.”
Phasma tilts her head, smirking ever so slightly. Hux immediately regrets the camaraderie they’ve established over the years.
“If you think a simple ‘no’ will dissuade that boy then you’ve grown alarmingly foolish and self-assured,” she laughs. Hux merely sips his tea and attempts to ignore her. “General, he hasn’t broken a control panel in two weeks. He’s been surprisingly...well behaved. Easily managed. I suggest you use this little crush of his to your advantage.”
Something cold and furious sweets through Hux, freezing his insides and heating his skin all at once. He’s not quite sure what it is that has him so angry; her impertinence, of course, is an issue. No matter how well they work together, she has no right to speak to a higher officer with such sarcasm. He didn’t claw his way through the academy to be spoken down to, teased. Beyond that...Kylo Ren may be an overdramatic little boy, but he is still a worthy opponent. Skilled with a lightsaber, able to wield the Force and use it to strip their enemies of their sanity and power. He does not deserve her mockery.
Standing, General Hux draws his shoulders back and levels her with his gaze. “Captain Phasma, you are dismissed.”
Phasma knows better than to question an order. She slips her helmet back on, bowing low and leaving his office. As the door shuts behind her Hux knows that his reports are a lost cause. He turns off his datapad, setting it in a locked drawer before getting up and heading to his room for a stiff drink.
The voice that crackles over the intercom is high and breathless with panic. Hux frowns, turning away from a lieutenant making a report. “Yes?”
“General, it’s Lord Ren. He’s...upset about something.”
Hux closes his eyes, drawing in a breath and letting it out over a count of ten. He opens his eyes and rubs his palm hard across his forehead. “What’s he gotten into now?”
There is a long pause before he gets his response. “Your private quarters, sir.”
The room goes silent as all eyes turn to the general. He only just manages to bite back a groan - true leaders don’t lose their composure. “Very well. Send someone to meet me with a tea just outside of my quarters. Earl Grey. In fact, bring two. I’ll be there shortly.” He turns off the intercom, shaking his head. “Carry on everyone. Major Fallon, please oversee all activities on the bridge for the time being.”
He breathes deeply as he leaves the bridge, taking an elevator up to the floor he resides on. He walks slowly, attempting to calm his heartbeat and clear his mind. Meeting Ren’s ire with his own will only worsen the situation. Lately all of their conversations seem to end in either blows or confessions of love, he hopes to escape the impending confrontation without either.
A Stormtrooper stands at attention just outside his door, trying to hold two cups placed on delicate saucers despite how his hands seem to rattle and shake the fine china with their trembling. It would be comical if it weren’t so utterly pathetic. He sighs - he seems to do that often, lately - and takes the cups before dismissing the soldier.
He draws in a breath and enters his room.
To say it’s been destroyed would be a gross misrepresentation of the facts. It’s been completely obliterated, like a planet fallen to his beautiful weapon. His clothes - uniforms, civvies, all of it - have been pulled out of his closet, scorched and sliced into tiny pieces that flutter about. Large chunks have been taken out of his mattress, and the headboard has been sliced clean in two. In the middle of the chaos is Kylo Ren, clutching his ignited lightsaber and trembling from head to toe.
Hux looks around, surveying the damage until his eyes land on the perpetrator. “Feeling any better, Lord Ren?” he asks mildly, sitting both cups on the remnants of his night stand.
Like cobras striking two hands twist into the front of his jacket, lifting him clean off of the floor and slamming him against the nearest wall. Kylo leans in so close that every breath Hux draws smells of the mask - plastic and metal and blood, choking his senses. “Why have your men not found that droid?” he hisses, voice warped by the vocoder in the mask. “Why is it taking so long?” He pulls Hux forward before slamming him once more against the wall.
“I imagine for the very reason Poe Dameron escaped right under your nose. We’re not fighting a group of unskilled tribesmen, the Resistance is full of skilled soldiers. Beyond that, there are always variables to take into account.” He purses his lips as Kylo releases him, back sliding down the wall until his feet touch the floor. “War takes time, Lord Ren. You must practice patience.”
Kylo reaches up, undoing the mechanism that keeps his helmet on. As he removes it curtains of black hair spill out, tumbling over broad and bony shoulders. There is a softness about him that catches Hux off guard. He has to resist the urge to reach out and touch, to capture that momentary peace between his hands.
Instead he straightens himself out, brushing invisible fuzz off of his jacket. He steps over to the nightstand, plucking up one of the teacups and handing it to Kylo. The taller man examines the liquid for a moment before taking a small sip. For some reason those large hands holding a small china cup humanizes him, which is the last thing Hux needs or wants.
Hux looks around his ruined bedroom, taking in the mess. “Now I need to organize a place to sleep until I can get new furniture.” It’s not said as an admonition, just a simple statement of fact. There’s no point in trying to chastise a Knight of Ren. They play by their own rules, most of which are written as they go.
Conflict passes over Kylo’s face, dozens of emotions in the brief passing of seconds. His eyes flick back and forth like a beast trapped in a cage, desperate for a way out. He finds none, rethinks his strategy. When he speaks it is through a mask of austerity.
“Come stay in my quarters. You can have my bed.”
Silence raises between them like a thick fog, pressing in on all sides. Hux knows he doesn’t have much time to consider the offer. Too soon of an answer and he’ll come across as desperate, exposing the need he’s felt for months now. The need to tangle his fingers in raven hair and pull until lips part in a soft gasp, to claim that mouth and that body and tie Kylo Ren to him in a way Supreme Leader Snoke could never even think to command.
Too much of a pause and the opportunity will be gone forever. He thinks briefly of his father, of Brendol Hux and his cold eyes and his military precision and his ruthlessness in all aspects of his life. His father never loved him. Never loved anyone, if he had to guess. His mother was a means to an end, a vessel to carry his legacy and produce his heir. If his father knew of his feelings for a man he should see as an enemy…
What a disappointment he’s become.
“Very well,” Hux says, offering the thinnest ghost of a smile. “Lead the way, Lord Ren.”
Kylo looks stunned but quickly smothers the emotion and paints his features into a mask of calm. Hux has to fight the smile that threatens to curve his lips as the door slides open and then closes behind them, sectioning him off from the destruction and disrepair he’ll have to deal with at a later time. They walk through the maze of passages that leads to Kylo’s quarters, the light growing dimmer and the decor growing simpler as they go. When they arrive and enter Hux gives himself a moment to take in the room around him.
It’s simple. Other than a hard pallet and a simple straw mattress the room contains only a two-man table, a basin for washing up, and a stack of books tucked into the corner. A door off of the north wall leads into what he assumes is a closet. Hux wonders what must be in there. Nothing but black robes, or does the infamous Kylo Ren have clothes for relaxing in? He makes a mental note to check later.
Turning to Kylo, he clasps his hands politely behind his back. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No,” Kylo responds softly, looking anywhere but at Hux’s face. It’s as if now that he has him in his bedroom, so near, he doesn’t know what to do with him. He stands hunched sullenly in the middle of the room, absently fingering the hilt of his lightsaber. “Should we eat?”
“I imagine so,” Hux says with a smirk. “We can’t stamp out the resistance on an empty stomach, can we?”
They take a moment to order supper, Hux silently reveling in the calm that has washed over them. It may be awkward and forced, but at least he knows where the power lies. They eat in near silence; every now and then Kylo will attempt to ask towards Hux’s day, his plans for the week, his work. It’s dreadfully out of character, and Hux can’t find it in himself to encourage the conversation. If this is to work they must learn to be comfortably silent, at least some of the time. His life is filled with so much noise. There’s got to be an oasis somewhere for him.
After calling for someone to take their dishes and cleaning up for bed, Hux sits on the edge of the mattress and looks expectantly at Kylo. He’s stripped out of his stiff military uniform, left in a white undershirt and shorts. Kylo stands in front of him as unsure as he’s ever been, hands hanging uselessly at his sides and head tilted ever so slightly to the left.
“And where do you intend to sleep?” Hux asks, smirking.
Kylo’s head jerks up, eyes quickly wandering the room. “I’ve slept on the floor before, General. My life has not been built around the expectation of creature comforts. Quite the opposite.”
Hux can only roll his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m teasing you. The bed is big enough for both of us, I’m sure we can make it through the night without molesting one another. Or murdering each other.” He’s not actually secure in the latter, but it beats tiptoeing around Kylo as he sullenly deals with his wandering emotions. “Come.”
Scooting towards the wall, Hux makes enough space for Kylo to join him. He remains standing silently for a moment before he finally moves to action, peeling himself of the layers of fabric that hide his tall, thin frame. Underneath the cloak he wears a simple pair of slacks and a black shirt, which he strips out of as well until he’s in nothing but his white undershorts. He seems to draw a breath, steeling his nerves before sliding under the covers. His body remains as far away as he can manage, pushed right to the edge of the mattress.
“Kylo,” Hux says, voice soft and firm. “Since when are you so afraid of me?”
“I’m not,” Kylo spits in the darkness of the room. “I’m simply giving you your space.”
Hux bites back a laugh, smiling at the back of his head. With a steady hand he reaches forward, taking Kylo by the hip and drawing him slowly back. For a moment the man simply stiffens. His spine is rigid and from his angle behind Hux can make out the way his jaw sets as his teeth clench together. Calming him down is simple enough. All Hux has to do is slide his hand forward, soothingly stroking Kylo’s flat stomach before every muscle in his body seems to tense and then relax. Kylo lets himself be guided backwards, breathing deeply as Hux drapes an arm over his hip.
“There now,” the general murmurs, clearly flirting with sleep. “Not so bad, is it?”
There is a long pause as Kylo seems to take in their position, to closely examine how they came to this moment. He seems to give up on thinking, instead letting himself go limp in Hux’s arms. “No, not so bad at all,” he says quietly.
Kylo’s hair, pulled back into a loose tie, smells of the peppermint shampoo that’s standard issue for officers on the ship. It’s crisp and bright, completely at odds with Kylo Ren himself. His skin is pale and blue in the darkness of the bedroom. Hux can’t resist himself - he leans forwards, pressing his lips to a bare shoulder and smiling as Kylo stiffens in response. He moves up, nuzzling his nose into the hair pulled back at Kylo’s temple. “Good night, Lord Ren.”
General Hux is aware of his own wickedness. He knows that Kylo won’t get a wink of sleep like this, confused and longing for the body behind his. He knows how to use weaknesses to his advantage, just like anyone else in his position would.
He also knows that Kylo’s body feels warm and alive against his own, and that as far as he’s concerned? If anyone antagonizes this man other than him? He’ll burn them alive.
Sweat drips down Hux’s back as he grabs the body in front of him, arms locked tight around a muscular abdomen. For a moment the man tries to jerk from his grasp by sheer strength alone - first to the left, then to the right. It should work -the man is matched for Hux in height, but his body is pound after pound of pure muscle. It’s not enough, though. The cords on his neck stand out, skin turning red as the lithe body of the general darts and dodges and evades his blows.
Hux, he’s resilient. He holds fast and braces his weight, uses the forward momentum of the man’s movements to topple him over. When the body in his arms moves to the left he lets it go, moving with him and giving a hearty shove with tense thighs and his feet planted firmly on the ground. They plunge to the left, and at the last minute Hux flips them so the man lands below. With a short “ha!” he braces his forearm against a muscular throat, pressing down just enough to prove his point.
With a gagging noise his sparring partner taps the mat to his right, sucking in a deep breath as soon as the General moves off of him. Hux hops off, springing lightly to his feet and walking over to retrieve a towel. He wipes lightly at his brow and the back of his neck. “Thank you for the session, Commander Triss. I was afraid I was getting rusty.”
Triss wheezes a laugh, still lying on the mat. “Apparently not.” Something dark and satisfied stirs at the sight of such a large man brought down by Hux’s own hands, no matter how friendly the sparring match has been. Triss waves weakly as Hux leaves the gymnasium and heads for the showers.
The hallways are dark and quiet, most of the Stormtroopers out running drills with Captain Phasma. This is the time of day Hux likes best. It’s far too early for him to have to worry about being disturbed by anyone else. His footsteps echo around him, reverberating off of the walls and falling back onto his own ears. He’s alone with his thoughts and allowed to pursue them as his muscles tic and recover from the early-morning exercise.
And then another set of steps falls in time with his own, somewhere over his left shoulder.
“Lord Ren,” he says casually without looking. “I didn’t know you were back from your mission.”
Kylo is silent, merely picking up his pace to fall beside Hux. He’s wearing his mask and robes, body tense and hunched as he takes long strides. They walk together for the length of a corridor, reaching the fork before Hux speaks again.
“I’m going to shower,” he says, amused. “While I appreciate the stroll, I do believe I’ll do this on my own.”
“I was watching you spar.”
Hux stops, laughing softly as he drops his chin to his chest. “And?”
“You looked beautiful. Ruthless.”
There isn’t anyone else nearby, and Hux realizes with an exasperating fondness that he wouldn’t care even if there were. He reaches up, lightly touching the side of Kylo’s mask. “You’re going to get us in trouble, you stupid boy.”
When Kylo speaks it’s with an alarming sincerity that makes something twist low in Hux’s stomach. “I don’t care,” he growls, reaching out to grip the general’s bicep. It’s just shy of being too tight, sure to leave a bruise for Hux to appreciate later. “I’ll tear apart anyone who tries to come between us. Don’t you understand that?”
Hux sighs, closing his eyes and trying to find his patience. “I’d rather you didn’t. We need soldiers if we’re going to win this war.”
“The sentiment remains,” Kylo huffs, his usual childishness creeping into his voice.
“If you insist.” Hux moves forward, crowding closer and closer until Kylo is pressed against the wall. The hand is still curled around his bicep, but now the touch is loose; urging him closer. With a soft smile and a hand against the wall Hux leans in, pressing his lips to the front of Kylo’s mask. Just over where his mouth ought to be.
Kylo’s hand immediately drops, curling instead around Hux’s waist and pulling him closer. When he goes to remove his helmet Hux catches his hand, moving it back down. “No,” he smirks. “I need to shower, and you need to train. I’ll come to your quarters tonight.” They haven’t fucked yet - they certainly won’t tonight. He’s still not sure the benefits outweigh the risks. Still, the promise of a warm body to hold him while he sleeps is a good one.
It must sound good to Kylo was well, for he nods and lets his hands drop to his sides. Just before Hux can pull away he reaches up, sliding a gloved hand across a pale cheek and into Hux’s hair. “Tonight then,” he murmurs, voice cold and metallic through the vocoder in his mask. It’s not far off from his voice without it.
The Starkiller is a massive success. A massive, burning, destructive success that obliterates the capitol of the Republic and every planet in the system. As the reports come back the bridge is an explosion of celebration. Some people cheer, some shake hands, others clap General Hux amiably on the back as they walk by and congratulate him on the weapon’s success. He feels like he could fly. To see all of his hard work pay off is staggering, he almost has to excuse himself to go to his quarters for peace so he can process everything that’s happened. All he’s ever worked for, fought for, lays at his feet.
When he finally makes it back to his bedroom - which is now fresh and clean and full of new furniture and clothing - he’s more than a little tipsy on brandy and ready for some well-deserved rest. What he gets instead is Kylo Ren sitting on the edge of his bed, mask on and posture rigid.
Hux looks around slowly, surprised to see everything intact. No scorch marks along his walls, no ruined furniture. “Lord Ren. Can I help you with something?”
Reaching up, Kylo undoes his helmet and removes it slowly. He sets it on the bed near his left hip. “General Hux. Congratulations on your success today.”
“Thank you,” Hux smiles, staggering slightly as he moves to his dresser to pull out night clothes. “I do hope you aren’t upset about earlier. I’m sure you’ll have no problem doing away with your father, if you’re anything like me and mine you hate him anyway.” He begins to unbutton his shirt, studying Kylo curiously. “You came to do more than offer me a sullen congratulations,” he says, quirking an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Kylo looks away, eyes distant as he glances out of the window. That’s the beauty of the officers’ quarters, they’re on one of the few floors above ground. There’s a rare window with a view of the frozen world beyond, snow swirling and falling in miniature cyclones as the wind whips about. “I just...came to see if you needed some company.”
Hux makes a soft noise, stripping his shirt off and draping it over the back of his desk chair. “Is that all? After earlier I’d assumed you’d rather kill me than kiss me.” He’s down to an undershirt, black slacks and his stiff black boots, somehow crisp and regal despite his current state of undress.
“I would never hurt you,” Kylo says emphatically, resisting the urge to shoot to his feet. He pauses, blushing and looking down. “I would never hurt you without putting you back together afterwards.”
Something hot and violent uncoils low in Hux’s stomach, something that slithers up his spine and sinks venomous teeth into his brain. With measured steps he moves closer, sliding his hand into Kylo’s hair and tugging back sharply. It forces his head back, forces him to look heavy lidded up at the general who regards him curiously. “And what if I would have pleasure from you, rather than pain?”
Kylo shivers out a breath, tongue darting out to wet parted lips. “Then you’d have that instead. Anything.”
Slowly, as if Kylo is a bird too easily spooked by sudden movements, Hux reaches down to take his hand. It’s large, so much larger than his own. The fingers are long and thin, the palm firm and hot, the perfect hand for striking skin and leaving red marks and dark bruises. He moves just as slowly as he brings it up, pressing it firmly between his legs. “Then give me pleasure,” he purrs, quirking an eyebrow and offering Kylo the fleeting glimpse of a rare smile.
Kylo looks up like he’s received benediction, his eyes going wide and lips parting on a soft gasp. With no further words he is sinking to his knees, whimpering like he’s been injured as he leans in and presses his mouth to Hux’s cock over the fabric. The light touch is almost enough to bring Hux to his own knees - it’s been quite some time since he’s allowed himself the indulgence of sex. Feeling Kylo’s mouth coaxing him through his pants, teasing and sucking and kissing as he stiffens under that clever mouth, it’s almost overwhelming. Thankfully he’s spent years training himself to take pleasure just as he takes pain. He will allow himself to feel only what he wants to feel, he’s not a man to let sensations rule him.
Reaching down, he undoes his trousers and pushes them past his hips. Kylo seems torn between rushing to assist and waiting patiently for what he’s given - he settles on patience, resting his hands in his lap and watching hungrily as Hux pulls his half-hard cock through the opening of his pants. Hux is pleased - he’ll make a clever, well trained pet. If they can work past those ridiculous temper tantrums he’ll be perfect.
“What do you want?” he murmurs, stroking Kylo’s hair out of his eyes. The touch is gentler than he intended - he’ll need to be careful, it won’t do to grow attached.
Kylo pauses as he considers his options, wide eyed and overwhelmed with being given a choice. Long fingers reach up to tentatively stroke Hux’s length. It’s the barest trace of fingertips along the underside, from just under the head to the base as he licks his lips once more. “Can I...can I fuck you?”
The thought is a lovely one. Despite his constant need for control Hux rather does like a good hard fucking now and then. He smirks, leaning down to claim Kylo’s mouth in a hungry kiss. “Undress. Lay on the bed.”
It’s almost funny how quickly Kylo rushes to comply. In a flurry of fabric he strips off his robes, peeling off his shirt and dropping his pants. The lightsaber - as cracked and unpredictable as Kylo himself - is placed carefully on the nightstand before he flings himself down on the mattress. Only when he’s naked and prone does Hux move to grab oil from his dresser, dropping it on the bed before removing his own clothing.
As soon as Hux is naked Kylo sits up, eyes wide as he reaches a hand to him. For once Hux gives him what he wants. He lets their fingers lace together as Kylo tugs him forward, let’s their bodies press together as he kneels over Kylo’s lap. He’s got to admit that he finds the man below him oddly beautiful. Miles and miles of pale skin, dotted with freckles like stars scattered across the night sky. His hands and feet are large, and when he glances down he’s delighted to find his cock proportionate with the rest of him. Long and thick and already so hard, flushed pink and curved slightly upwards. With a soft sigh he lets his fingers drift down to touch.
“You’re beautiful,” Kylo breathes, throat tight with arousal. His voice is like rich caramel, dark and sweet and somewhat slightly burnt. Hux wants to hear that voice screaming for him.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he manages to tease, plucking the oil up from the mattress. It’s a small crystal pot he picked up last time he was on a planet with an actual city center to shop in. The liquid inside is thick and slick and smells slightly of vanilla. He scoops a liberal amount onto his fingers and holds his hand high as he lets it drizzle down onto Kylo’s length.
“Someday I’ll let you hold me down and take what you want,” he murmurs distractedly as his eyes follow the oil from fingertips down. “But for today, I think I’d like to be on top.”
Kylo merely nods, eyes heavy lidded. When Hux wraps those long fingers around Kylo’s length and strokes he hisses, head falling back against the pillow. “F-fuck, your hands…”
“Mhm,” Hux hums distractedly, picking the jar up and passing it over. “Now show me what yours can do.” He looks down at Kylo, giving a particularly clever twist of his wrist that makes Kylo arch of the bed. It takes him a moment to regain his senses but soon he’s taking the oil from Hux’s hand, slicking his own fingers and reaching between pale thighs and back. Tentative fingers stroke over tender flesh, again and again to just barely spread the oil. It takes a moment, but soon the general is gasping ever so softly and rocking his hips back against Kylo’s hand.
“How many?” Kylo pants, resisting the urge to plunge three fingers in to the hilt. He can imagine the noise Hux would make, the cry of pain that would tear itself from swollen lips. But no, he can be good. He can earn this.
In response Hux leans down, back arched to press their chests together. “Give me two to start,” he whispers. “I like it to hurt a little at first.”
A broken sound tears itself from Kylo’s throat as he surges up to kiss and suck at Hux’s jaw. As he plunges his tongue into the general’s mouth he plunges his fingers deep into his tight hole, thrills running down his spine as Hux gasps and squirms down against the intrusion. It is hot and violent and perfect. Hux forces himself to take the fingers, giving himself no time to catch his breath or ease into the sensation. Neatly-manicured nails dig into Kylo’s shoulders as he forces himself to relax.
“You’re beautiful,” Kylo says again, awed by the pained look on Hux’s face. He draws his fingers out slightly before thrusting them back in, working them a bit deeper each time. Inside Hux is hot and velvety smooth, slick and desperate as he fucks down on Kylo’s hand. In no time he’s able to add a third finger, spreading and wiggling them slightly to stretch him open.
When he’s had enough Hux draws off of Kylo’s fingers and slicks his cock with more lube. “Ready?” he rasps, flushed a violent red from the face all the way down to his tense stomach. The muscles of his chest and abdomen shift and ripple as he kneels over Kylo’s waiting length, reaching back to grip him at the base. “Tell me how badly you want it…”
“S-so...please Hux, I need you,” Kylo rasps, barely choking out the words. Hux wonders off hand if Kylo even knows his first name. “You’re perfect, let me please you, give you anything you want…”
“Anything?” Hux repeats, laughing breathlessly.
“My own heart on a platter, if you asked,” Kylo moans. “I’d tear it out with my bare hands just to give it to you.”
Hux supposes that’s asking nicely enough. Sinking his teeth into the swollen flesh of his lower lip he sinks down, taking Kylo’s cock inch by rigid inch. It’s good, it’s absolutely perfect; the stretch burns ever so slightly, but quickly melts away into a pleasure that there’s no name for. Below him Kylo’s chest is heaving with each breath as he resists the urge to thrust up and bury himself fully in that tight heat.
“Let me make myself clear,” Hux breathes, raking his nails down that slim, flushed chest. It raises a line of pink marks that stand out vividly against Kylo’s skin. “You are not to come until I wish it. Am I understood?”
Kylo nods frantically, eyes dark and wide as he looks up at Hux. It’s agreement enough. Hux braces his palms on Kylo’s shoulders, working himself up ever so slightly before grinding back down. He wouldn’t be naive to think he’s Kylo’s first; no, he’s not nearly terrified or awkward enough to be a virgin. But there’s something about the way Kylo worships him that makes him feel powerful. It also stirs this quiet, nameless thing in his chest, a small voice that reminds him to take care - to tease, and torment, but to not take it too far. To dole out more pleasure than pain.
His pace is slow as he leans in for a kiss, just a gentle rocking of his hips as their tongues tangle and dance together. It ought to be violent. Angry. But he can’t seem to find it in him, not when Kylo is whimpering so prettily and his own prick is rigid and drooling precome onto the body below. If he were a man of better self control he could make this go on for hours. Keep them both on the edge, dancing around orgasm but never fully reaching it. Apparently, though, his iron grip on his impulses doesn’t translate into the bedroom.
Parted lips drag along a slim throat, sucking at Kylo’s earlobe and grinning when he gasps. “Mhm. Is it good?”
“You’re perfect,” Kylo breathes, sliding a palm along his lover’s back. He tangles his fingers in copper-red hair, tugging back and thrusting up at the same time. The sound Hux makes clearly delights him, smile wide and bright as he repeats the motion. “There?”
“There,” Hux groans, reaching forward to grip the headboard as he picks up his pace. “O-oh yes, right there…” Every time he grinds down on Kylo’s cock it presses so perfectly against that spot that makes his eyes water. He can feel his own skin flushing, can feel the way his cheeks have grown hot with exertion and arousal. He’s getting close, but he doesn’t want it to end.
Suddenly the world shifts, spinning around him. He finds himself planted on his back with hands tangled in the sheets, crying out as Kylo kneels between his thighs and pounds into him. This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to keep control. It feels so good though, so right to let himself be worshiped, and the way Kylo is looking down at him like he’s got some sort of deity bent over and screaming his name…
“Oh god!” With a sharp cry Hux comes, spilling wet stripes of come over his stomach. In some hazy part of his sex-addled brain he wonders when the last time he came untouched was. Has it ever happened at all?
Sharp teeth nip at his throat, bringing him back to reality. “P-please, may I come?” Kylo chokes, face buried in Hux’s neck as he sucks in great breaths of air. He’s so close, trying so desperately to hold back. His body trembles as he tries to leash the power within him. So he does possess some small semblance of self-control.
“Come,” Hux breathes, voice soft and low and he presses his lips to Kylo’s temple. “Come for me, clever boy…”
The sound Kylo makes is broken. Hux has to wonder if he’s ever received any sort of praise or affection; what was his life like before he was tempted to the Dark Side? Who was he? The man he is now trembles as he comes, gripping Hux’s thighs with bruising strength as he spills into him. His hips twitch forward once, twice, and then he is still.
Hux huffs out a soft breath as Kylo collapses on top of him, barely able to pull out before his muscles go lax. Without thinking he laces his fingers through that mess of dark hair, gently working the tangles out as he recovers his breath.
Kylo is the first to break the silence.
“Let me stay here,” he murmurs wearily. “Let me sleep next to you.”
With alarm Hux realizes that he wouldn’t allow him to sleep anywhere else.
Funny how one small girl can ruin so much.
The wind whistles around Hux like a screaming banshee, loud and furious in his ears. The snow blinds his vision, casting everything in a white blankness that makes him feel like he’s nowhere at all. He’s never noticed before just how how cold it can get on Starkiller base. He’s spent so long warmed by the knowledge that his weapon, deadly and beautiful, held enough power to tear the galaxy apart. Not anymore. Now it is simply a bomb waiting to go off underneath him. He stumbles through a foot of snow, the icy chill creeping into his skin despite the thick leather that protects his hands and feet.
”Find him, Hux. Find him and get off of that useless planet.
As if Hux needed to be told. The moment it all went to hell he knew what he needed to do, who he needed to find out there in the woods.
He’s not force sensitive. Never has been. But somehow he knew, knew that Han Solo’s broken body lay somewhere in the bowels of the base, knew when that terrible little girl cut Kylo Ren down and escaped with her friends. Phasma had restrained him from dashing into the snow right then and there, it was only Snoke’s orders that gave him the opportunity he needed.
He plunges through the soft white powder with mounting desperation. He’s got to find Kylo. They’ve got to get off of this planet. He’s got to warm him up, he’s probably freezing out there in the snow, he’s going to be so cold. Kylo hates being cold. He can’t imagine the mood he’s going to be in when he wakes up and realizes what they’ve lost, their equal failures.
Shoving his hand into his pocket Hux fumbles for the datapad he brought along, pulling it up and checking the coordinates it’s showing him. A little red dot pulses on the screen. He’s alive. He’s nearby. Despite the burning in his lungs and the way his throat freezes with every drawn breath Hux breaks into a run, stumbling and slipping but pressing on. “Kylo?”
A soft moan is his only response.
Hux can see the body as the base of the hill he stands at, a dark smudge on the blinding white snow. Slashes of red arc out from Kylo’s body, decorating the ground in whirling patterns that dance around his still form. Hux can feel his heart freeze in his chest. Impatient and terrified, he practically throws himself down the hillside, sliding most of the way when his feet slip from underneath him. He falls next to Kylo gracelessly, pulling himself to his knees.
“Kylo? Ren, tell me you can hear me,” he chokes, taking off his gloves to grasp Kylo’s face in his hands. His skin is ice cold, paler than usual. In the academy he was trained for every type of torment and torture the Resistance might throw at him, so why hadn’t they thought to prepare him for this? This awful, aching feeling in his throat, the churning that makes him want to scream and vomit and tear all of time and space apart with his bare hands? “Come on you brat, wake up.”
There is movement, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Slowly, like the sun peeking over the horizon, Kylo Ren’s eyes flutter open. He peers up at Hux, eyebrows knit. “I’m not a brat, you pompous ass.”
Hux laughs desperately, and ignores how his eyes are watering.
General Hux confesses his love just as he does everything else; with efficiency and few words, more “show” than “tell.”
Kylo wakes up in a bed that’s familiar and strange all at once, body aching and mind full of smoke and fog. He feels stiff. Thick, scratchy bandages wrap tight around his hips and torso, and there’s a burning scar on his face that he has to resist the urge to rub at. The acrid scent of bacta fills his senses, mingling with the scent of a shampoo he’s come to know all-too-well.
“Ah, good. You’re up.”
Hux leans into his line of vision, a curious look on his face. Despite training for years to read people with little effort, Kylo can’t seem to pick at the threads that will unravel his mind. Instead he blinks up at the general, silent and still.
“You had us worried,” Hux says softly. He sits on the edge of the bed, lifting a glass off of the nightstand and filling it from a water pitcher. He slides an arm under Kylo’s shoulders and gently helps him up so he may drink. When Kylo makes a noise of protest as pain shoots through him Hux pauses, the strange look on his face becoming more intense. “Slowly, slowly. You mustn’t irritate those wounds any further.”
After managing a bit of water Kylo lays back, eyeing Hux warily. “Why am I here? Where are we? Shouldn’t I be in the med bay?”
Hux immediately stands, moving to fidget with something on his desk. He shuffles a few papers, examines a pen, fiddling with a number of things and clearly trying to look busy. “I don’t trust them. Their care is too impersonal and the beds aren’t soft enough for someone with wounds such as yours. You need a place with complete silence to regain your strength, which I can provide. We’re on a transport ship, you’re in my quarters.” He turns back to the bed, scowling at the smirk on Kylo’s face. “What?” he snaps, folding his arms.
A heavy realization settles on them, shifting the dynamic in an instant. “You want me here,” Kylo says confidently, settling back into the soft pillows beneath him. “You want me here so you can keep an eye on me, make sure I’m recovering to your liking.”
Hux makes a small sound of irritation, but doesn’t deny the accusation.
“You love me,” Kylo continues, almost gleeful. “You might as well say it, all of the cards are on the table now.”
In a flash Hux is sitting on the bed beside him, gripping Kylo’s shoulders and shaking him in a way that irritates the wounds scattered across his body. “You almost died,” he nearly shouts, his impeccably-styled hair breaking free of it’s hold and falling into his eyes. He looks wild, inhuman. “You impossible child, a little girl with no training and little grasp on the Force almost killed you. I had to find your broken body in the woods and carry you to a ship so I didn’t lose you for good. Do you have any idea how that feels? To come so close to losing the one damned person I’ve come to care about in this whole forsaken galaxy?”
Kylo looks up, eyes dark and serious. “Of course I do. I feel it every time you send me away. Every time you close off or go somewhere I can’t follow.”
Hux draws back as if he’s been struck. He immediately stands, putting as much distance as possible between them. “I can never have you. The Supreme Leader would never allow it. How can you not understand that? I can’t imagine what he would say if I were to ever come between you and your training…” His heart hammers in his chest like a jackrabbit, nervous and far too fast.
“Do you think he doesn’t know my feelings?” Kylo asks, giving a mirthless laugh. “I can’t hide anything from him, I learned quickly not to try.” With a groan he sits up in bed, swinging his legs off of the side and slowly standing. He takes a step forward, than another; for each step closer Hux takes a step back, until his back is pressed to the wall and Kylo Ren is crowded into his personal space. “Tell me you don’t love me,” he murmurs. It’s a dare, one he knows Hux can’t follow through on. “Say it out loud and I’ll never bring it up again. Never touch you, kiss you, press you into the bed and have you for myself...”
Hux groans as Kylo reaches up to stroke his cheek, head falling against the wall with a loud thump. He can’t do it. Even if he tried to say the words they would stick in his throat, press down on his tongue to make it too useless and dull to speak. But he doesn’t want to. He is a man of truth.
Their bodies slot together all-too-perfectly as Kylo leans closer, lightly pressing his lips to the corner of the general’s mouth. “The dark side is...it’s passion. It’s knowing what you want and taking it. Imagine the power I could wield with you by my side? We’d be unstoppable.”
And just like that it all makes sense. Hux can see all of time stretched before them, the burning world they will together bend to their will. He can see the First Order as it bleeds into every planet, every city in the galaxy, built on his iron will and order and ruled by Kylo Ren’s passion and pain. He slowly opens his eyes to meet Kylo’s.
“I see it,” he whispers, irises a bright, burning blue.
Kylo’s mouth splits into a triumphant smile as he leans in, kissing Hux again and again. “Say it,” he pleads, hands gripping pale hips tight enough to leave bruises. “Tell me you’ll have me, and that you’re mine…”
Gasping, Hux can only hold on as the fire consumes him. “I’m yours, you stupid, childish boy. And I’ll destroy anyone who might take you from me.”
It’s not quite “I love you,” but for Hux? It means roughly the same thing.