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"I've got 6/5 odds on Ren topping.”

“I’d take that bet, Sergeant. Twenty credits, was it?”

“Sir. Glad to take your credits, anytime.”

(Conversation overheard in corridor 35, Deck H, at 1927 hours, Month Five, Day Fourteen, Year 28 ABY.)

Later on, popular wisdom and in-ship gossip will make it known that ‘trooper NT-3389 was the one who started the whole thing. This is not true.

Nonetheless, NT-3389 will benefit greatly from this misconception. She will reach near-mythological state among the crew – be it Stormtroopers, officers or auxiliary staff alike. Two years from now, Staff Sergeants will be telling their new crops of troops how Eighty-Nine accidentally invented the ship’s most popular recreational activity. They will leave out the ‘accidental’ part, though, making it sound a lot more like divine inspiration.

“NT-3389...” someone will say, trailing off in breathless awe. “She is the one who started everything. It is thanks to her that the people on this Star Destroyer can dream.”

In truth, the only one to blame is, and always will be, General Hux.

The idea comes to him at some point between Round Two and Three of celebratory sex after finally getting assigned to the same ship as Ren. Or, as Hux would phrase it – after finally getting Ren assigned to his ship. It seems like the ideal arrangement, Hux thinks, except for the rather pesky inconvenience that someone is bound to take notice of their relationship sooner or later, and there’s nothing he despises as much as gossip.

This is when Hux has a stroke of genius.

“I hate you,” he says, like it’s a revelation.

Kylo blinks, hazily, and stretches. He looks like all the coherence has been fucked out of him, and Hux feels a faint twinge of pride. “I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

“Yes I do,” Hux insists. “I hate you. A lot. I utterly despise you.”

Kylo just stares.

“Whatever,” he says, rolling on his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. “Let me know when you’ve worked out your existential crisis.”

Later, when they’re both recovered their faculties of speech and comprehension, Hux lays it out in full detail – they’re going to hate each other, he says. They’re going to be the most bitter enemies who ever lived. Kylo is going to be an annoying, disrespectful, very public pain in his ass. He choreographs half a dozen screaming matches in two hours.

No one will think there’s anything but contempt between the two of them, Hux concludes, happily.

It works, but not at all like he expected it would.

"I think we can safely discount the theory that Lord Ren is a droid. No droid would have such a startling lack of regard for its own kind.”

“But hear me out –”

No, Phil.”

“Sexbot. That’s all I’m saying.”

(Overheard in the Officers’ Shooting Range B4, 2356 hours, Month Eight, Day Seventeen, Year 27 ABY.)

When NT-3389 first starts it she’s in the ‘troopers’ mess, waving to FL-4279 halfway through the cavernous room and sliding up to her so that she can cut the line.

“Hey, Flip,” she says, casually, trying to make it look like she’d been there the whole time. “Did you hear about Ren and the General yet?”

No. Again?” Flipper’s eyes are all but sparkling. “They had it out in public again?”

Eighty-Nine nods slowly. She knows it’s prime gossip fodder she’s offering, and savours the moment accordingly.

“Again”, she says. “Actually, it was even worse today - Ren actually got in the General’s face, like, real close. And you know how Lord Ren’s taller than Hux, right?”

Flipper nods. “Right, so,” Eighty-Nine continues. “I bet he hates that. Ren was just staring down at him and they were probably whispering insults, and he got so red in the face, he looked like-” she pauses, eyes going wide. “He actually looked a lot like..”

Eighty-Nine trails off, embarrassed and giggling, and Flipper frowns. “Like what? You can’t leave it like this.”

But it’s their turn to be served, and so the revelation has to wait. They scoop up their plates and make their way to one of the tables – a rather crowded table, as luck will have it.

They sit down and start eating and that’s when Eighty-Nine says, quite a lot louder than she meant to. “I was about to say, that General Hux getting all flustered around Ren reminded me a lot of how SR-1770′s face that time when we fucked in that TIE cockpit.”

No,” Flipper repeats, scandalized. She’s laughing. And everyone around them - they’re laughing too. It’s a ridiculous thought, isn’t it? Ren and the General?

But the seed has been sown.

“I’m just saying,” Second Lieutenant Drax tells his bunkmates. “That you just can’t hate someone that much without thinking about how it’d be like to fuck them. I am just saying-” he repeats, over the sounds of loud laughter and shouts.

“Just saying. At some point, someone must have had that thought. Probably both of them. About how’d it be like to suck on that dick - or tentacle,” he hastily corrects himself. “Whatever’s that Ren’s got.”

Just last week, they had to suffer through a 3-hours long seminary on work sensibilities, politically correct speech, and how to prevent casual speceism. Speceism was fine for the Empire, apparently, but the First Order is pretty keen on presenting a new, positive image to the Galaxy – a modern outlook for a modern age. Or at least that was what General Hux had said in his presentation, before gracefully sliding out of the conference room and leaving thousands of junior officers to suffer through the endless ramblings of some wacky holopusher with a lisp and too many degrees. They still haven’t quite recovered.

“Hey,” someone cuts in. “What exactly do you think Ren’s got?”

“Ew,” Drax says. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“A prehensile dick!” someone else shouts.

“Both sets?” Li calls, somewhat hopefully.

“It’s definitely tentacles!”

“We all know you’d like the tentacles, Mark,” Drax says. “Why do you guys even care about what’s under Ren’s robes? I mean. That man is…” he trails off, and makes the inter-galactical gesture for ‘batshit insane’.

“That’s why,” Mark says. “Just imagine… once he really lets go…”

He pauses, biting his lip. He looks like he’s about to take a break and retire to his bunk, and Drax suddenly decides he isn’t paid enough for this shit.

Yes,” Li chimes in, nodding slowly. “You all have seen him lift things with the Force, right? He could do anything to – Hux,” he adds in the last word in a way that very much implies it’s not the General he’s picturing in bed with Lord Ren. “And, like. He could touch you with Force. Everywhere. At the same time.”

“Ew,” Drax says, again. Sometimes he thinks he’s too delicate a soul to have gone into the military, but he’d always wanted to make mama proud. “I really don’t want to think about Kylo Ren having sex.”

You don’t,” Lt. Karisson says. “But I bet General Hux does. Daily.”

Everyone laughs.

Even Drax joins in- he’s cool with having a laugh with the boys about the General’s obvious obsession for his co-commander. It’s clear Hux’s thought about screwing Ren, and Ren has definitely had a thought or two of his own about screwing Hux, what with the way he always gets way too close and personal… and it’s not like anyone can blame him, Drax thinks philosophically; the General sure does cut a nice figure in his pristine uniform, stick up his ass and everything.

He’s just lived a hell of a lot better before he ever felt the urge to picture Ren’s disgusting, prehensile, tentaculous dick.

He shivers.


He starts to get hard in his hand. He feels the dark man hold him, not pump him, just keep him up on his toes as his penis struggles to get hard bewteen the Force-users thumb and index finger. He stats to whimper, moan.


A tongue deep in his mouth, down his throat, the cloak-clad-Sith reaches back with his other hand and puts his fingers up into the crack of the military man’s butt between his gaping cheecks. He goes fully erect, all five and half inches of his menhood, in the gloved hand. The dark man rubs the head of it between his fingers. He feels one finger go up into his butt.

He pushes back against it, feels him almost lift him of the ground in his big, strong appendages, as he slides his middle finger up deep into his lovers body.

The fair-haired soldier cries out, puts his arms around the other mans neck, kiss back, hard. The Sith starts to fingerfuck him with his long, thick digits. The former Academy cadet feels his pants ad lingerie fall down around his pale-skinned ankles. He steps out of them.

(An excerpt from ‘Midnight Rendezvous’ by knightlover04)

“Despicable little prick.” Unamo closes her eyes, raising her arms up above her head and slowly bringing them back down, her grip sweaty around the weights. “He called him ‘despicable little prick’. Can you believe that?”

“I was there,” Mitaka reminds her. He wipes the sweat away from his forehead with a towel, frowning at the ache in the muscles of his arm. How did he let himself get this out of shape?

“Right. Didn’t he sound fond to you?”

Mitaka thinks on it. He bites his lips. “Nope,” he says. “I think he sounded murderous, actually.”

“Yes, I know,” Unamo says, briskly, like he’s completely missing the point. “But this is Hux…” she looks around, quickly, to make sure that nobody is listening. “Fucking control freak. Anal to the point of obsession. I bet he jerks off thinking about paperwork and Order.”

She pronounces that last word in Hux’s clipped accent and stilted tone. A wonderful impression, Mitaka thinks, but none of this is exactly news.

“Yes?” he says. “So what?”

Unamo takes a deep breath, starts a new series. “So…” she begins. “If the General gets this worked up about Ren, that means he’s invested. He wouldn’t even waste the breath otherwise.”

That’s – actually, that makes sense, Mitaka thinks. “Okay,” he concedes. “But he still didn’t sound ‘fond’.”

“Maybe it’s a hatesex thing,” Unamo says. “Actually, I bet they are. He could wreck Ren and nobody would even notice the difference, that’s got to have some appeal.”

Mitaka honestly thinks Hux is a bit too thin and wiry to ever manage to ‘wreck’ anyone, but holds his tongue. Unamo looks far more interested than it is healthy; she really needs a new hobby.

“Despicable little prick….” she mutters again under her breath. “Despicable little prick. Hey, do you think he meant that literally?”


“Despicable little prick,” Unamo explains. “Maybe that’s it. Why they fight. Ren has a small dick and the General is unsatisfied.“

“I honestly hadn’t considered the idea,” Mitaka says. But there’s no stopping her now.

That is why Ren is so angry all the time. He probably feels inadequate, the poor thing…”

The next day, someone starts a shipwide pool about Kylo Ren’s dick size. Or dicks, in case there’s more than one. Or tentacles. Wouldn’t want to be speceist, after all.

“Petty Officer,” the General calls. Colleen sees her entire life flash before her eyes.

She swallows. “Sir?”

“What do you have here?”

He doesn’t sound murderous at all, Colleen considers. Or angry. This is her lunch break, after all, she is entitled to spend her free time doing whatever she likes. She just has the feeling that General Hux may not be into personal rights as much as she is.

“Sir,” she says. “A holorecord. Sir.”

“I can see that,” the General says – and, oh, is he trying to make conversation?

This is how I die, Colleen thinks. She forces herself to hold the General’s gaze, doesn’t have to fake the flush. “Sir. It’s – ahem. Erotic literature. My… fiancé sent it to me,” she scrambles, trying to justify herself, hoping her CO won’t be too disgusted at the admission.

But Hux actually looks mildly amused – even curious, and that’s like staring death itself in the face. “Oh, interesting,” he says, politely. “What about?”

Colleen thinks very, very fast. He may yet ask to see it. “It’s – historical, sir. About dead people. People who are no longer alive… because it’s hysterical. Historical.”

The General still doesn’t seem convinced, so she goes in for the sell. Or the kill, depending on how it goes. “It’s about… Lord Vader, General. And Tarkin.”

To her great relief, Hux’s face immediately turns disgusted. “Vader and Tarkin?” he spits out, loud enough that a few heads turn their way. “Why would anyone – never mind, Petty Officer,” he shakes his head. “Carry on.”

The General walks away, and Colleen takes a long, sweet breath. The recycled air has never felt this amazing in her life.


“I would like you to consider, Captain, that well over a fourth of all humanoid species in the galaxy have penile spines. We cannot in good conscience discount the idea that Lord Ren may –”

“Oh, for kriff’s sake, Lieutenant.”

“…What even are penile spines, anyway?”

“She means barbed cocks, Lucinda, dear. She’s saying Ren has a barbed cock. Which is frankly delusional, as if the General would ever go near –”

“I said he could have and, with all respect, Captain, you are an idiot.”

(Overheard in the second Officers’ Lounge on Observation Deck C, 2109 hours, Month One, Day Ten, Year 28 ABY.)

“And why in hell would I want to do that, Ren?” Hux asks - he asks, okay, he’s not shouting. “What reason could I possibly have to give a completely new set of orders to an entire battalion….”

“It is the Supreme Leader’s will,” Kylo says, slow and mystical and so fucking annoying that Hux kind of wants to murder him for real.

Even if he actually has heard Snoke’s new orders with his own ears during their last audiences. He and Kylo had decided it would be better to act as if the orders had been given to Kylo in secret, and Hux himself was suspicious it was all some kind of elaborate prank. Kylo has been known for deliberately sabotaging Hux’s plans to make him look worse - well, he actually has never done that, but it’s a story they have spread through careful gossip. They need some reason to argue every week, and there's only this many screens on board that can be destroyed.

“Well, forgive me if I don’t believe you, Ren,” Hux says, in perfect imitation of the voice his father has perfection for scolding unruly cadets. “Your track record speaks for itself -“

“Excuse me?” Hux blinks. It’s Phasma’s voice.

“Excuse me? Sirs?”

“Yes?” he says, a bit surprised. The ship does not seem to be on fire, and his staff knows better than interrupt him. “What is it, Captain?”

“Conference Room Three is free, General,” Phasma says. As if that explained anything.

“Alright?” It sounds like a safe thing to say. “That’s good to know, Captain.” Perhaps the stress of the job is getting to Phasma. Hux dearly hopes it’s nothing more serious than that; he would hate to have her sent to reconditioning.

“Conference Room Three is free,” she repeats, slowly. “Now. Sir.”

Alright. Captain.” His voice is cool enough to freeze water. Next to him, Ren’s started to make a horrible wheezing noise. “So what?”

He can hear Phasma’s long, loud breath even under her mask. “So, sir,” she says. “If you and Lord Ren wanted to argue…” she’s stressing her words in a strange cadence. Maybe it’s an impostor under the armour? A Resistance spy would find it hard to fake Phasma’s accent. Maybe….

 “If you wanted to argue, you could do that in Conference Room Three. Privately,” she says, slowly. Still unnecessarily stressing her words. Sounding like she was doing him a favour. “Only you and Lord Ren. Sir.”

Well-meaning or not, this is unacceptable. Hux straightens himself up to his full height. “Are you trying to kick me out of my own bridge, Captain?”

There’s a long pause.

“…No, sir,” Phasma says. She sounds resentful for some odd reason. Next to him, Ren sounds like he’s choking – or is that laughter?

“If you’d excuse me,” Phasma says, then starts to walk away. As he watches her go, wondering what the hell got into her, Hux distinctly hears her mumble something under her breath.

“…absolute morons,” she’s saying. “See if I ever try to do him a favour again.”

Now, the General Grand Moff had Never thought of himself as anything but a perfect Imperial, but since meeting his Dark Warrior, he was curious to find out how somebody, more then human would feel. He started out by watching xeno Porn more often then human porn, just to try it out. He likd it. At one point, he ordered on the holonets a Dildo shaped like a bifurcate cock and the plug that goes with it to try for himself if it was something, he could do before propositioned the dark man.

After months and months of hard – in all senses of the word – traning, and farther holo research, the fair-haired military commander realized he was able to Take the bifurcate Dildo balls deep! All twelve inches of it!. He also taught to wear the plug for hours at time, even when he worked, around his dark Warrior. He can ride the rubber Penis for 60 seconds before he starts to cumm all over himself like an alien-lover hosnian Slut. after this he made Dildo riding a weekly thing. Also sometimes he likes to wear teh Butt Plug under his uniform and in the mess.”

(An excerpt from ‘big alien cock training’ by TogrutaSlut12)

“You don’t want to know what she was talking about,” Kylo says, for what must be the twelfth time. “You really, really don’t.”

“Will you let me be the judge of this, Ren, kriffing hell –”

“You aren’t going to like it.”

“Right now I’m not liking you,” Hux says, which, alright, not his best comeback. But if there is one thing he really, really hates, it’s people laughing at him, especially when he doesn’t know the reason. Kylo’s impromptu fit of fake-cough in the middle of the bridge certainly qualifies.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kylo singsongs happily. He makes a show of clearing his throat.

“Captain Phasma,” he begins, solemnly. “Is completely sure you and I must be fucking. And so is a considerable portion of your crew.”

He blinks. “Phasma–”

“Thinks we’re fucking,” Kylo cuts him off. “Yes.”

“But we…” that they are fucking is not the point. Not right now – they’ve actually just finished – but certainly it’s something they do on an almost daily basis. But still.

“We were so careful,” Hux says. “That’s impossible. I don’t think I’ve ever even spoken to you in public like a civilized human being.”

“You haven’t,” Kylo agrees. “They all picked up on that. I believe it fuels the rumours – they are calling it ‘hatefucking’.”

Hux buries his face into the palm of one hand. “I can’t believe this.”

“That’s not all of it.” Kylo smiles to himself. “It actually gets worse.”

“But what do you think they do?” Flipper whispers to NT-3389 in the quiet of their shared barracks. Eighty-Nine frowns.

“You mean, in bed?”

“Yeah,” Flipper nods. “I mean – you’ve seen Ren. He’s always… stomping around, clad in leather from head to toe, screaming and breaking things,” her voice lowers. “That man must be into some really, really kinky shit.”

Now it’s Eighty-Nine’s turn to frown. “You mean, like, spanking?”

Flipper laughs. “And worse! I bet he really likes to be hurt. Or he’s probably into orgasm denial –”

“That sounds painful.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Flipper says. Her face lights up. “You know, you should really check out the holozine. I bet they actually do half of these things. And it’s hot.”

Eighty-Nine can’t believe they’ve reached the point where she is the one who’s behind on the latest gossip. “The what?” she asks.

“The holozine!” Flipper sounded like there was something really important she was missing. Like a girl can’t fly out for one mission, and suddenly the entire Finalizer moves on and she’s left out of the loop.

“Look, there are stories. Just – check it out, will you?”

Eighty-Nine does. As it turns out, she's not the only new reader on the ship.

“He looks down at me as I take his mighty length into my mouth – mighty length, this is flattering and extremely creepy.” Hux makes a face at his holopad screen, then resolutely keeps scrolling.

“He cock throbs – shouldn’t this be ‘his cock’? He is so thick and long, I can only get the tip of it into me –”

“You wish,” Kylo snorts. Amazing how he suddenly stopped ignoring Hux’s efforts at dramatic reading as soon as he gets the chance to throw in a snide remark.

“Do not interrupt me, Kylo,” he says, briskly. “As I was saying – He is full of precum… how can anyone be full of precum, it comes out, doesn’t go in? I feel the…” Hux pauses, coughs discretely into his hands. “I feel the sweet taste of it all over the root of my mouth –”

You wish, Hux.”

“I feel the sweet taste of it all over the root of my mouth,” Hux continues, resolutely. “As I start to masturbate his wooden shaft – shut up, Ren – rhythmically, slowly, fully –”

“How do you masturbate someone fully?” Kylo asks, philosophically, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers to all the mysteries of the universe. “As opposed to what, emptily?”

“ –Rhythmically, slowly, fully to the back of my throat, in and out. His milky cock is very wet. It is as if he already came down my throat. He weeps precum none stop. Ohhhhh. Yesssss.”

Kylo makes a gasping, strangled sound. Hux reaches out to pat delicately between his shoulder blades.

“It’s what it says in here,” he explains. “I am moaning. Ohhhhh. Yesssss.”

“Do you really had to make it sound like someone is pointing a blaster at your head?”

“What,” Hux snaps. “Do you want me to make porn noises? Oh, Ren,” he breathes out, throwing back his head and moaning. “Yes. Yes, like that,” his breaths become heavier, louder, voice dipping low. “Ahh, yes Right there, baby. Good boy. So good for me. That better, Ren?”

Kylo looks uncomfortable. He shakes his head furiously. “Please stop that right now.”

“Told you.” Hux clears his throat. “Ohhhhh,” he says, flat and emotionless. “Yesssss. He starts moaning furiously and grips my head firmly. His hands shake in my hair. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt! Yesssss. I knew you’d be good at it. My perfect pretty boy.”

Kylo snorts.

“Don’t worry,” Hux tells him. “You’re not pretty. I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that.”

“I do not have tentacles, Hux.”

“I am well aware of that, believe me.”

“But why is everyone so obsessed with me having tentacles? It’s weird. It’s uncomfortable, I am feeling fetishized for something I don’t even have. I shouldn’t be feeling fetishized. I’ve got nothing to be fetishized for.”

“Is there a point to this discussion, or are you just getting your panties in a bunch?”

“Could you just – discreetly… let people know that I don’t have any tentacles?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s actually rather funny.”

“Oh, here we go. Do you think I’m not aware that you’ve been feeding the gossip for the past three weeks?”

“Be aware, if you like. It’s fun, Ren, I don’t see the problem here, calm your tits –”

“I DO NOT. HAVE TITS, HUX. I don’t wear panties either, but half your staff seems to be under the impression that I do, don’t you see how this may be a problem?”

(Recorded in corridor 3, Deck B, at 0035 hours, Month Six, Day Five, Year 28 ABY. Recording is currently classified.)

General Hux may, in fact, be guilty of feeing the rumour mill a bit too much. He doesn’t bother trying to conceal the scratches his cat makes on his neck one morning and doesn’t offer an explanation when he shows up on shift with claw marks all over his throat. When he takes his holopad stylus from his pocket, he makes sure to shift his coat just so, so that his aide has a wonderful look at the pair of handcuffs he casually keeps in his pocket.

He meets the boy’s eyes with an even look of his own.

“You never know when you’re going to be a little tied up in things, Captain,” Hux says, with the air of a wise man offering paternal advice to a kindred soul. “Always be prepared. Always carry handcuffs in your pocket, and a knife or two. You never know.”

“Yes, General. Sir.” The Captain’s eyes are brown, and very wide.

“And something to ease the way. If you know what I mean.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hux keeps his back straight and his face even as he watches the young officer run away.

A day or two later, he makes a point of praising Ren’s virtues loud enough that half the bridge staff can hear. “He’s actually a very generous man,” he tells Phasma. “At times, it’s very easy to talk him into doing what he’s told.”

“Sir,” Phasma shuffles. Even in her helmet, she looks uncomfortable.

“And he’s also – not bad,” Hux says. “Once you get past all the… you know…” he makes a vague gesture with his hands. It’s clear that Phasma doesn’t know, and neither do all the people in hearing range, but they want to know. Desperately.

“The thing,” Hux says. His voice lowers. “His little problem. Do you think he was born with that mask?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, it’s a damn shame, let me tell you.” Hux nods, schooling his features into something that almost resembles regret. “If it weren’t for – well. He’s not bad, though. Considering.”

“Yes, sir,” Phasma agrees dutifully.

“Mmm,” Hux continues. “And then there’s Ren’s ‘saber. Now that’s a sight.”

“Ren’s… lightsaber? Sir?” This is Mitaka, looking rather flushed. Hux meets his eyes and nods, as wide-eyed as he can make it.

“A damn fine lightsaber, if I say so myself.”

“Sir…” Mitaka leans in closer, almost trembling with excitement. It’s not every day that he gets to one-up Unamo on the gossip front. “What does it look like?”

“Oh, you know,” Hux leans back, straightens himself out. “Red. Very long, kind of – twitchy, I’d say. And, unlike most sabers, it has three openings instead of one.”

Mitaka squeals.


Hux turns on his heels and walks away, feeling the pride of a job well done. He can still hear Mitaka’s excited whispers –Three? Did he say three? Not even two – actually three? – and the loud murmuring coming from everybody else.

He hurries back to his quarters, thinking of all the stories in the holozine he didn’t get to read yet.

“I have never seen this much blood outside of my bedroom.”

(General Hux, commenting on a recent slasher holodrama. Overheard in the Officers’ Mess A, Deck D, at 1315 hours, Month Six, Day Three, Year 28 ABY. His interlocutor reportedly dropped their cutlery and had to leave in a hurry. Two hours later, the tag ‘bloodplay’ was added to the holozine.)

Across the galaxy, a young woman is standing awkwardly in front of a simple table full of mature, stately figures. She shuffles her weight from one foot to another and clears her throat.

“Ma’am,” she begins. “Sirs. We have started receiving… extremely confusing reports from our spies in the Order…”

She trails off, and the woman sitting at the head of the table nods. “Do go on, Commander.”

The Commander clears her throat. “Well. Ma’am. Apparently, Kylo Ren is sentimentally involved with General Hux – of the Star Destroyer Finalizer. I don’t know if that will help the efforts in any way, but… ma’am?”

The General blinks, then brings one hand up to massage her forehead. “Yes, naturally,” she says. “You’ve done very well, Commander. Is there anything else?”

“Well,” the younger woman says. She looks somewhat insecure. “As you know, there aren’t any reports available on Kylo Ren’s history, nothing at all on where he came from, but I think we may be close to identifying his species…” her demeanour grows bolder by the minute. “You see, we’ve heard –”

“Kylo Ren is human,” the General says. “Trust me on this.”

The Commander blinks. “Ma’am. He’s not. This is the information – it appears to be common knowledge in the order that Ren belongs to an alien species characterized by a trifurcate reproductive organ, and we’ve narrowed it down to two oxygen-breathing races…”

General Organa starts to choke.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “What?”

The young woman bites down on her lips, face reddening. “Everyone on the Finalizer says that Kylo Ren has a trifurcate dick. Ma’am. I know it’s silly but I figured it could be important information to identify –”

“Kylo Ren,” Leia says, resolutely. “Absolutely does not have a trifurcate dick.”

There’s a long pause.

Then, Admiral Ackbar speaks up. “General,” he asks, very slowly. “How would you know?”

“I just know, okay? Please trust me on this.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Things finally come to a climax one Primeday morning, about a year after the entire thing first began. The night before, Hux and Ren agreed that it’s time for a much-deserved break. Not that they believe anything they can do will ever be enough to stop what has become the Finalizer’s most beloved recreational activity, but maybe – just maybe – they will able to enjoy two weeks of quiet.

It goes like this: it’s almost the end of alpha shift when the General is called away on an unexpected emergency, leaving the bridge to Colonel Mbessa and leaving in a hurry.

He’s been gone for all of ninety-seven seconds when the alarms start to blare, all red flashing lights and loud sirens.

“Colonel,” someone calls. “It’s just us – everyone else is fine. But we’ve lost communications with the rest of the ship, and the doors locked.”

“What does it mean, ‘the doors locked’?” the Colonel asks, frowning. The doors and the hatches are never supposed to close unless there’s a serious risk of losing the ship.

“The override code was used, sir,” Mitaka says. “This is odd, but I think – I think the General…”

And that’s when the sound system comes to life in a roaring burst of static.

And then, suddenly, a voice begins to speak. It’s loud. It’s impossible to ignore and, quite frankly, annoying as fuck.

“He stood up and stripped off his uniform trousers and pants in one motion, then helped the Force-user with his and crumpling them into a ball that he tossed on the floor.”

In that moment, the bridge staff collectively stops breathing.

“Is that…” Unamo asks, swallowing. “Is that the General’s voice?”

Dumb question; of course that’s the General speaking. The whole ship knows the sound of Hux’s voice better than they remember that of their own mothers. The true question is another.

“Is he reading what I think he’s reading?”

“We’re dead,” Mitaka chimes in, wailing. “We are all dead.”

“They stand in silence looking each other in the eyes, finally showing their true visages to one another. They are breaking heavily, and their cocks feel so hard that they both fear their ball will explode. The G –” and here Hux pauses, meaningfully, managing to convey at least twelve death threats in a two-seconds silence.

“The Grand Moff,” Hux continues. His voice echoes off the walls, so loud that some of the screens start trembling slightly. “The Grand Moff is pressing his fingers to – Lord Vader’s naked scales, fascinated by the way the light reflects off them. His digits leave a burning pattern across his chest and down to his navel, but they stop before reaching Vader’s velvet-sheathed manhood.”

“Is this hell?” Unamo asks, to nobody in particular. “Are we dead, and this is our eternal suffering?”

“Then the fair-haired man stopped, sitting down on the bed. He spread his legs in open invitation. ‘Oh, my Dark Lord’ he sighs  ‘I have dreamed of you for so long!’. Vader’s serpentine tongue slithers out to lap at the tender scales around his mouth. ‘My dear Grand Moff,’ he asks, concerned. ‘Are you really sure that you want this?’ ‘Are you kriffin kidding,’ the human male says. ‘I want you to fuck me so hard I will feel your barbed penis in my anus for a week.’”

A longer pause this time.

“Do you think,” KL-9312 whispered. “That the General will take offence to the fact that some people think he bottoms?”

PN-3332 shrugs. “I don’t think so,” she says. “He’s a modern man, isn’t he?”

“That is when all coherent thinking stops for Lord Vader. His serpentine tongue slicks up his sixth finger and he thrusts it in, unbelievably horny but still careful. He wants to make this good.”

Another pause. The sound of hundreds of people holding their breaths.

On the speakers, General Hux is heard clearing his throat. “How educational,” he says. “I must have missed this part in Tarkin’s biography. I can’t believe there’s sixty more pages where this came from.”

“The Grand Moff was usually very loud in bed, but now everything feels even more good. He starts to talk as Vader’s long scaly fingers fill him up. Oh fuck,” Hux continued, his voice a perfect monotone. “Oh fuck so good Va-Vader. Oh Gods. Please spank me and whip me and fuck me rough. Oh Fuck. Oh yes. Oh fuck.”

It goes on for more than an hour.

By the time alpha shifts ends and those unfortunate souls are let out, some of them are visibly shocked. Some held their breath for the entire seventy-two minutes, thinking the reading would turn into a full-fledged torture session from one minute to the next, feeling scared to death. A significant minority is flushed, and significantly turned on. Three people have fainted; there’s no telling if any of them is the author of the fic. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren is watching the entire thing from his bedroom, and laughing his ass off.