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How they had gotten into an actual physical fight was beyond Hux. Such things were, or so he had always considered, way beneath him. He was a man with a sharp tongue who took pride in wielding his words as skilfully as any master would their weapon of choice, and to resort to brute force felt rather like a personal failure. Yet, at some point, their latest disagreement had escalated to such a level where hurling mere insults, albeit stingingly toxic in their nature, at one another had no longer felt satisfactory. It had been bound to happen sooner or later, or so Hux rationalised.
There was a limit to how long one could spend in a confined space with another person before something vital – sanity – would crack and start to crumble. This was, Hux found, especially true if you happened to be a First Order General locked up in a Resistance prison cell, and even more so if the other person was the leader of the Knights of Ren. While Hux couldn’t speak for the Knight, in fact he was unsure whether Kylo Ren had any sanity left to lose in the first place, he was certainly starting to feel the toll of the situation, and thus his fist had… slipped.
In reality the General knew himself well enough to recognise that the Knight was not the sole reason to his meltdown. There was a lot brewing inside him that he had no desire to deal with; feelings he wished he could smother and kill, or hide so well they would never surface. Yet, now, they were sipping through his defences, much like puss will force its way out of a infected, festering wound. Humiliation at being caught, powerlessness when faced with the impossibility of escape, and, worst of all, fear. He was going to die, as much Hux knew. When or how his execution would take place was unclear to him, and this uncertainty only fuelled his unease further.
Had Hux been anyone else – a normal person – he would have gladly admitted all this to himself, but he was not just someone else, he was the General of the First Order. He would sooner perish than confess to these feelings, and the Knight had, up until a few moments ago, served as a convenient scapegoat.
Before Hux had thrown that punch, before Ren had tackled him in wild rage, before they had tumbled around on the cold, hard stone floor.
Before the General had lain pinned to the floor with a panting Knight straddling his hips…
Hux had looked up at the man (or was he a monster?) and he had stared back, his dark brown eyes like pools of mud, uncertainty shining in them as clear as sunlight is reflected on a watery surface. The air in the room might still have been rippling with hostility, but the Knight emitted equally strong waves of another feeling, closely related in its heated nature, yet utterly different. If the General had held even a sliver of doubt that he had miss-assessed the situation, which he did not, the Knight’s body was painfully honest.
“You’re hard” Hux wheezed, not knowing how to tackle the situation if not head on.
The Knight froze in place, seemingly torn between ignoring Hux and fleeing, but the General gave him no choice in the matter. Hux had seen something in those eyes, something he could no longer pretend not to recognise. They were brimming with fear, and it was as If he had looked into a mirror. It made something twist violently his stomach, something unwelcome and foreign, and he couldn’t help but to latch onto it; grab onto the Knight.
Momentarily Hux’s brain overloaded with panic, shocked at his own actions. Two ill-calculated moves within rapid succession was a sure-fire sign he was about to lose his grip on his mind. He needed an excuse, something, anything, so he constructed one.
It was almost too easy.
There was fear in those ebony eyes, but also want. A hunger that far surpassed Hux’s, but he could indulge. He would be dead soon. The realisation had hit him like a durasteel wall. He’d be dead, gone forever, and thinking of it made Hux panicky and restless. In those eyes, though, he had seen release. Momentary bliss, there for the taking. A shudder snaked its way down his spine as the Knight tried to worm his way out of his grip, inevitably rubbing their bodies together. It made Hux tingle with pleasure, made him feel alive. He was being offered an escape from reality, so why should he not take it?
“I don’t mind” he breathed, surprised at his own, husky voice. Was he already that far gone?
Hux could feel the Knight trembling beneath his fingers, his breath rapid and shallow. In the shadows of the cell it should have been easy to pretend, to manufacture another reality, to picture another individual. But, Hux could not. Ren was here, Ren was now, and maybe this once that would be enough.
His skin was burning hot, his grip tight and sweaty, and his breath intoxicatingly sweet. The Knight was alive – he was real – and to his horror Hux found himself clinging desperately to those last grains of tangibility. It kept the fear from coiling in his stomach. Those big brown eyes, glazed and wild, numbed his mind, and lulled him into a false sense of comfort. Or perhaps it was fleeting rather than false.
The Knight moved even closer, pressing their bodies together, aligning their faces. His cheeks were flushed red, his lips slightly parted, as if he had made to say something but never got the words out of his mouth, and for the first time Hux noticed that he was beautiful. Radiant, just like the beam of destructive light from Starkiller Base, and Hux was the planet he had stricken.
Drunk on power, his mind lingering in the past, Hux sank his teeth into Ren’s collar bone, and the Knight gasped, and it sounded heavenly. The General wanted more, he craved it, so he worked his way upwards, nibbling at the tender skin, finally reaching the waiting, full lips. And he devoured them.
Riding on top of the world he felt drugged, alive and excited. He was flying high on ecstasy, burning with pleasure. Rocking back and forth, keeping pace, and keeping control. It instilled him with the same sense of power as leading a unit would. For just this moment life was under his control again, he was at the helm, all reactions were brought on by his hands.
There was nothing gentle about it, but they didn’t need gentle. They just needed, and they took, and that was all. It was blissfully easy. It was nothing but an escape. A way to drench out the fear and forget all that was to come. Ignore all that’s beyond their control.
Shivers of pleasure crept along his back as the Knight trembled beneath him, ready to come apart any second now. His movements were erratic, uncalculated, but Hux had not expected more from Ren, knowing the man to be unpredictable, explosive. It felt good, though, knowing he had this much power over Ren, who was practically whining beneath him now, reduced to nothing after mere minutes.
And Hux worked his hips roughly, craving the pain and pleasure that made him feel alive. Ren let out an animalistic, horse cry, tears shining in the corners of his glazed eyes, chest heaving.
When it was over, when heat had transformed into clammy stickiness, neither of them moved to walk away. Not that there would have been anywhere to go, but Hux doubted they would have, even if such an opportunity had presented itself, because stepping away would indicated that they were done, ready to return to the reality. Hux knew they were not. Not him, and not Ren, so they stayed seated close to one another, not pressed together, but near enough to maintain the charade.
Serenity lingered between them. It should have been impossible, but for now it was there. It was fragile, and stretched all too taunt, clearly built only to be shattered. But it was there, and Hux couldn’t bring himself to question it. Not now. Because he was relieved, glad not to have to face it all alone, despite it being Ren at his side. Perhaps, Hux thought as the Knight opened his mouth to speak the first words since their carnal dance, they shared the same feelings regarding this one matter.
“Are you afraid of dying, Hux?
“Yes.”
“So am I.”