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There is a neatness to the Force that Hux has always appreciated. Ever since his childhood, promised to Supreme Leader Snoke by his sorry excuse for a father at a young age, he’s relied on it to provide the structure that no one else ever has. It is ever-present, ever powerful, always delivering the balance that it promises while asking for little more than focus in return. Despite being the connection between everything it is quiet. Steady. Controllable.
Unlike some people on this ship.
Hux is meditating in his quarters when he first feels the disturbance, a shudder of rage that passes through the ship like rolling thunder. It’s not an uncommon experience, feeling a sudden burst of emotion coming from the general direction of the bridge. He’s come to know it as well as he knows himself. With a sigh he uncrosses his legs, letting his socked feet touch the ground as he releases himself back to gravity and sets himself right.
Ren.
Hux will never understand how the fool ended up general of something as precious as the first order fleet. He wonders if it somehow has something to do with his mother, despite Leia Organa being the enemy of their people. Did someone assume he would have the same leadership skills, the same command of her people’s love that Leia seems to wield just as Hux wields his saber, as her son wields a blaster? Or were they just trying to be a thorn in her side by putting her son at one of the highest places of honour possible, despite his lack of skill or strategic thought? Hux suspects the latter.
The corridors of The Finalizer are nearly empty as Hux makes his way to the bridge. He can feel the scattered panic of the Storm Troopers, running away from Ren’s anger like small animals disappearing into their burrows. Normally he’d feel disdain over their pathetic need to run and hide, but in this instance he can’t blame them; Ren is a creature of intolerance, quick to act on his base instincts. One never knows what a caged animal is capable of, and it’s often best to keep out of the way.
Sure enough, Hux finds his quarry just in time to see a blaster shot send a low ranking crony flying across the room. The unfortunate Captain slides across the polished durasteel floor before stopping at his feet, a weak wisp of smoke curling up from the hole in his uniform jacket.
“General Ren,” Hux says, tone bland. “You’re going to run out of officers.”
Ren stands before the viewport, looking for all the world like a wampa about to attack. His teeth grind together as he continues to point the blaster at where his quarry just stood, a few meters shy of Hux’s current position. When Hux speaks his head whips up, eyes flashing with rage.
“I thought you were off communing with the Force,” Ren sneers, slowly lowering his weapon but not yet sliding it into its holster. His uniform, designed to be a pristine example of power and control, is rumpled and missing two buttons near his throat. “Why are you here?”
“Your thoughts are loud,” Hux drawls, crossing the bridge and stepping over the body slumped to the floor. “It was interrupting my peace. What seems to be the problem?”
Ren turns away from him, stalking closer to the viewport to survey the stars scattered through the inky blackness of space. “The scavenger escaped with the droid. On the Millennium Falcon.” He rakes his hand through his hair, tearing at the elastic holding his hair back and allowing unkempt black strands to cascade over his shoulders. Hux’s eyes follow the motion before twitching back to his face. “We have reason to believe they intercepted Han Solo and the wookie he travels with.”
“She got away with your father,” Hux says plainly.
The words earn him just the response he expected. Rage, guilt, anxiety, they all flair to the forefront of Ren’s mind, like asteroids battering at a damaged shield. It would be so easy to collect these delicious little bits of intel, to store them away to use against Ren later; the man makes absolutely no effort to protect himself.
“That man is not my father,” Ren snarls, eyes flashing. “And they won’t be free for long. I’ve sent scouts to the nearby systems to gather intel, it won’t be long until we have their exact location and can test the weapon.”
Hux inclines his head in a mimicry of agreement. “Well then. If you’ve got everything under control, I’ll leave you to it. Do try to keep your thoughts down, General. And stop picking off your captains. We’re running awfully low on ranking officers.”
He gives Ren his back as he makes his exit from the bridge, doing his best to hide the smirk that plays at the corners of his lips. Behind him Ren seethes with a vicious, confused sort of loathing; he does so hate it when Hux gets the last word. Hux is quite certain he hasn’t heard the last of him for the day.
-
He returns to his quarters, to the peace of meditation as he let’s uninhibited power flow through him and into the universe. It’s a cycle; neverending, all-consuming. He touches everything there is to touch, is one with everything there is to experience oneness with. As he floats in that quiet place he searches, pokes at the hidden places of the galaxy, searches out the hidden thing he has been tasked to find.
Luke Skywalker.
One doddering old Jedi shouldn’t be so well hidden. The Force touches and joins everything, and Hux is very good at going where he is directed. He picks at threads of connection with delicate fingers like undoing tangles of yarn. Careful. Coaxing at the snarl, rather than trying to force it and make it worse. So where is the senile fool?
He’s about to give up, disappear into the ship in search of sustenance, when the alarm on his door charms. He doesn’t have to search to know who it is. Ren has come just as he always does, whether to continue their argument or atone for it. Hux is barely curious to find out which it is.
When the door slides open Ren stalks in, still scowling and still quite disheveled.
“I should refuse to suck your cock again until you learn to properly maintain your attire,” Hux sneers, folding his arms and closing the door with a wave of his hand. “What would people think, if they ever found out? That I’ve been slumming it, that’s what.”
“It’s not like you’ll ever let them find out,” Ren sulks, undoing the remaining buttons on his coat and tossing them over the desk chair. Hux keeps his appointments simple; there’s a desk, a small bookshelf, a bed barely able to accommodate the length of his body. One loose jacket is enough to make it look like an absolute madman resides here. “I need your help, I’ve spent all day wound up and I can’t…”
Hux sits primly on the edge of his bed, crossing his legs as he rests his palms on the mattress behind him. “Can’t what, General Ren? Can’t self-regulate like every other adult on this ship?”
“I can’t get out of my own head,” Ren manages, and there’s a whine in his voice now, a plea.
That unspoken appeal picks at Hux’s own tangle, the knot of sour feelings around his heart that so effectively keeps this hurricane of a man away from all of his soft places. He sighs and straightens, lifting his hands to remove the light cloak he’d been wearing to keep himself warm.
“Very well,” he says, trying his best to read as perturbed, put upon. To maintain his power over the situation. “Kneel. Right there, middle of the floor.”
Something goes lax in Ren’s expression, his eyes going soft with relief. “Should I undress?”
“Did I tell you to undress?” Hux says, arching an eyebrow.
Realizing his mistake Ren immediately scrambles to obey, dropping to the floor and crossing his wrists lightly behind his back. Hux stands, sauntering around him, bare feet light against the threadbare carpet as he circles his prey. He reaches out, uses the Force to touch, press. And when Ren is truly relaxed, truly acquiescing to what he’s being offered, Hux takes this hulking beast of a man and binds him.
And oh, it feels good. So very good, to have something so strong feel so weak in his hands. Hux knows what would happen if Snoke found out about this…affair. He knows the way they would both suffer. But Lord Armitage Hux has spent far too much of his life feeling powerless, so he will bask in it now.
“You’re an animal,” he says, voice silk as it drips from his lips, hand lifting to tuck Ren’s hair behind his ear. “An untrained, wild thing. You have no tact and every day I’m forced to clean up your messes, as if I don’t have my own duties and tasks to fulfill.” He squats down, putting himself eye to eye with Ren as he asks, “What are you?”
“I’m an animal,” Ren sighs, eyes glazed. “I’m uncontrollable. Please, please kiss me…”
Hux smirks, leaning in to just barely drag his lips over Ren’s cheek. When Ren tries to meet him in the middle, meet his lips, Hux rocks back and raises a brow. Ren tries again, tries to use his weight to fall forward, to capture Hux like a prize to be won. This time Hux lashes out with another tendril of power and grabs him by the neck, yanking him firmly back into place and holding him steady. “Ah, ah. I don’t kiss wild dogs. You must have mistaken me for some Mos Eisley whore.”
Ren whines, and Hux merely smirks at his distress. Without a word he goes about his business, undressing himself to his sleek black briefs, neatly folding his clothes and putting them in the proper receptacle. When he returns to Ren he strokes a hand absently over his own stomach, fingers tickling over pale, freckled skin as Ren’s eyes watch in hunger.
“What to do with you, though?” Hux muses. He can feel Ren’s arousal, can see his desperation to circle his foolishly large hands around Hux’s waist and take what he desires. He touches at Ren’s desire, watching his imagination feed him with images of Hux on his knees, Hux riding his cock, Hux simpering and coquettish under Ren’s large body. As foolish as it is, it feeds Hux’s own fire, his cock twitching to life, tenting the soft black fabric keeping it hidden.
“Stars, but you want to posses me, don’t you?” he sighs, laughing lightly at the oafish way Ren nods. Hux smiles and shakes his head, kneeling once more to unbutton Ren’s trousers and barely work them down his thighs.
“Animals don’t get to possess their owners,” Hux murmurs, turning on his knees to once more give Ren his back. “And you certainly don’t get sucked off, or to have me moaning for you like some pretty little trick from whatever backwater hovel your people frequented.” He shuffles until he’s almost sitting in Ren’s lap, wiggling his hips. “You want to come? You can rub off against me like the animal you are.”
Ren moans, and Hux knows he’s struck some deep chord that Ren didn’t know was there. “Please,” he begs, though he starts to rock his hips slowly, rutting his clothed erection against Hux’s clothed ass. “Please, it’s not enough. Let me fuck you, I’ll make it so so good…”
Hux hums, closing his eyes and undulating his hips, drinking in the desperation that roils within Ren’s mind. He tightens the invisible grip on Ren’s wrists, though he releases his hold on his neck, giving him a bit more mobility. “It isn’t about feeling good,” Hux sighs, smirking as Ren’s obscenely large dick twitches against him as if begging for more. “I can feel good with my own hand and a bottle of oil, you ridiculous boy. This is about being given what you deserve, and you deserve barely anything at all.”
Ren seems to realize that begging will get him nowhere. With a frustrated groan he starts to hump up against Hux’s ass, occasionally rotating his hips, occasionally grinding against him with slow rolls. It’s like he’s searching, looking for the best way to find the pleasure he needs, to work with what his been given.
For a while all he settles on is rutting up, bouncing Hux in his lap, fucking into the cleft of his ass in an almost panicked arousal. Hux moans softly and dances his fingertips over his own erection, reaching into his underclothes to take himself in hand.
“Is this all you can figure out?” Hux asks breathlessly, wrapping his fingers around his length and stroking slowly. God, it’s barely anything, but it’s so good. Ren is so hungry, and so unable to do anything about it. “Aren’t you supposed to be a tactician? Weren’t you recruited to make plans?”
Ren grunts, leaning forward and sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of Hux’s shoulder. Hux yelps, hisses as he feels Ren’s lips curl against his skin. “You bitch,” he moans, red hair falling from his perfectly maintained style and falling into his eyes. “I should send you away now, leave you with nothing.”
Before he can act on it, he is reminded of two things; the first is that Kylo Ren, while an idiot, is a strong idiot. He is also, while childish, particularly good at negotiating the heat of battle. With a powerful thrust of his hips he manages to send Hux sprawling into his stomach, palms just barely slapping against the floor to save his own face from impact. Hux barely has time to reaffirm his hold on Ren’s wrists before a hard body comes crashing down on top of him, pinning him to the floor.
“There’s something you forgot, Lord Hux,” Ren growls, voice dripping with aggression. “I may be an animal, but I am bigger than you.”
He braces his knees on either side of Hux’s hips, pressing his cock once more to the sweetness of Hux’s ass and rutting against him with renewed vigor. Each push forward sends Hux’s own cock rubbing against the carpet, and he’s immensely grateful he kept his kit on; he hardly doubts Ren would care about chafing his dick right now.
“You never miss an opportunity to prove me right,” Hux growls. It would be so easy to use the Force to yank Ren off of him, to send him flying, but…fuck, it feels incredible being pinned down like this, being overpowered.
Thank the stars Ren can’t read his mind.
It’s not long before Ren’s moans become short, gasping grunts, a sure sign that he’s about to come. His thrusts are becoming erratic, unchecked–each once shoves Hux’s body forward, and all he can do is brace his palms on the floor and push back. Ren leans down and bites into the back of his neck as he comes, body going rigid and hips stuttering once, twice, as he spills into his underthings.
As Ren’s body cools Hux flips onto his back, shoving his briefs down and once more taking his leaking erection in hand. As he strokes himself off Ren leans down, using his (admittedly) impressive core strength to hover over Hux’s lap, licking wherever he can. Before long Hux is coming as well, whining and arching as he paints Ren’s lips and chin with his spend, adding to the constant mess that is General Kylo Ren.
Hux lifts a hand and lazily waves it, releasing his hold on Ren’s wrists. Ren immediately stretches his arms out, rubbing away the burn in his biceps.
“Your space magic may be a bunch of mystical bullshit, but at least it’s good for this,” Ren pants, standing on shaking legs to find a cloth. He settles on one of Hux’s undershirts, smirking at the face Hux shoots him as he cleans them both up.
“Well, once you find out what your hyper-aggression and tantrums are good for, be sure to tell me,” Hux says with a yawn. He stands and makes his way inter the ‘fresher, leaving a glaring General Ren in his wake.