poedameronisqueer:

General Hux and Kylo Ren have been assigned sparring practice. Tensions arise. on ao3 as well ; pre – canon force-choking kink. light bdsm and also somehow character study and snarking

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jakathine:

me: all right, time to think of cute fluffy poe/finn fics

brain: ok but hate-sex kylo/hux 

me: no. I am loving poe/finn pls.

brain: yeah ok but… consider this: hate-sex kylo/hux

empiresofextimacy:

They are on a small, arid
moon: dry as dust, and bitterly cold. The night suffocates all sound, dampening
the crunch and whir of the world so that Hux thinks he may drown in the
silence. Further ahead, standing on a patch of glistening snow, he sees Kylo Ren’s
half-shadowed figure. He is unspeakably other, sharp and aristocratic in his
flowing lines and crisp movements, and Hux feels a clenching twist low in his
gut at the thought. It takes him aback, the swoop and plunge – sudden as though
he’d meant to place his foot on a raised step and missed – and he turns back
sharply to his Stormtroopers before he may examine the thought in too much
detail.

They are here for information,
he reminds himself. Here to scour the remains of the Resistance base which once
stood in the rocky outcroppings of the moon’s northern-most landforms. He
should not be thinking about Kylo Ren’s elegant stance; his slippery motions;
the power that coils beneath the man’s shoulders. He should not be thinking
about Kylo Ren at all.

But it is difficult not to
think about Kylo Ren, Hux finds. He hates the man – for his arrogance, his
irresponsibility, his patronising haughtiness and belief that those in the
Trooper Corps – that Hux – is below him, incompetent and replaceable. Hux hates
himself even more – for the way his breath speeds up at the thought of Kylo
Ren’s strong limbs, for the way he (in the utmost privacy of his own sleeping
chambers, when Hux is wholly certain he is alone) imagines Kylo taking him by
the throat, forcing him to his knees, tangling a hand in his hair…

A
shadow crosses over Hux’s vision and he starts. He should not entertain such
thoughts, should not get distracted by Kylo Ren. Hux shoots one last look over
his shoulder as he sets off back to the ship, but not before he sees Kylo’s
masked face staring straight back into his.

*****

Hux is in control once he has
returned to the ship. He stands in the command centre, delegating tasks and
ensuring that they have salvaged all possible information from the ruins below.
It is easy, slipping back into his position as General. Here he is respected,
listened to. He commands his soldiers and they respond.

A dark figure pulls up beside
him. “General.” He speaks.

“Kylo.” Hux responds.

“We have tracked the rebels to
a stronghold in the Mid Rim.”

“Where?”

“The last signal emerged from a
coordinate 6 parsecs from Chalacta.”

Kylo has turned to face him. Hux
clenches his jaw.

Hux turns towards Commander
Sta. “Direct us to the Chalactan system.” He says.

“Affirmative.” Is her
response.

Beside him, Kylo Ren is
silent. Hux does not allow his gaze to dart from the observation deck. He will
not give the other man the satisfaction of seeing his turmoil.

Kylo Ren does not seem
bothered by his silence, but Hux can feel the other man’s smirk behind his
cool, shiny mask. He tenses his shoulders, but doesn’t blink.

*****

He avoids Kylo Ren after that.

It is surprisingly easy. They
are stationed by a seedy planet at the intersection of Hutt Space and the Iotra
Sector. They are still in the Mid Rim, technically, but surrounded by slavers
and other corrupt and sleazy traffickers this fact is easy to forget.

Kylo spends most of his time
on the planet, searching for the rebels, trying to gather intimate resistance
secrets. Hux, not one to dirty his hands with blood and information, stays on
the ship.

Kylo reports to Snoke
occasionally, but the instances are few and far between. He has no reason to
contact Hux with these visits and so Hux has time to fill between his sporadic
appearances at the command ship.

The fantasies, however,
persist, dancing at the corners of his mind during long shifts, or invading his
thoughts as he collapses in the dark of his sleeping quarters. Every fleeting
glimpse of Kylo Ren’s profile as he walks through the ship feeds his debased and
twisted fantasies.

In privacy, he imagines Kylo’s
hot mouth on his, his large hands pinning him down as he struggles against the
solid lines of the man’s body; he imagines Kylo using the Force to take away
his voice and leave him mute and powerless, an image that always has him coming
– breathless and red-faced – in his hand. But, despite the increasingly
frequent fantasies, Kylo Ren is never truly
there. Hux tries to take a small comfort in the fact that Kylo cannot read
the shameful tendrils of desire from his mind, or smell the unspoken wants from
his skin. He is simultaneously thankful and painfully wanting.

Hux fills the gnawing need
with anonymous encounters. He should not step on the planet, should not debase
himself so. He contorts with disgust at the premise, a deep distaste for the
filth and pollution he knows awaits him. But he cannot help himself. Anonymity,
after all, has its price.

There are secluded corners to
be found on this sludge-filled, backwater planet. There are places to engage tall,
pale strangers in squalid taverns and dark brothels. They fuck him hard, hands
gripping his thighs and digging into his wrists. Sometimes he asks them to hit
him, tie him up and slap him. The sting of their knuckles across his face is so
so good, only complemented by the words they hurl at him in the dark. He wants
to ask them to choke him, to grab him by the throat and squeeze, but something
stops him before his mouth can form the words.

He does gather the courage
once, and only once. One sticky evening, he gets mind-numbingly drunk and asks
a long, lean man with wide cheekbones and a small scar above his eyebrow to
choke him while they fuck. He wakes up the next morning with bruises decorating
him like a string of pearls, blues and reds and purples laid out like jewels at
his throat. He hurts all over, his muscles tight, his head pounding, and his
neck too stiff to even swallow. His shoes are gone, as are his blaster and the
small stack of credits he brought with him the night before.

Hux considers the theft with
growing anger. He should execute the man. Chase him down and kill him. The
thought is tempting, but also impractical. It would be a waste of resources to
pursue a petty criminal, and one that would be difficult to explain without
putting his own action into question. Not worth it, in the end.

He
dresses efficiently and heads back to the command ship.

*****

Because the Force is
conspiring against Hux, Kylo Ren is there, waiting for him.

“You shouldn’t leave the ship.”
Kylo snaps as soon as they are in speaking distance.

Hux does not have time to
respond before Kylo is continuing: “It is your responsibility as General to be
available to contact.”

Hux wants to tell him to go
fuck himself, but all he manages to croak out is a rough, “Not your business,
Ren.” His voice cracks embarrassingly as he says it, so that the last syllables
come out breathy and raw.

“It is my business when your
escapades compromise the mission.” Kylo sneers.

Hux realises that his throat
hurts even more than when he’d woken up. He wants nothing more than to take a
hot shower and sleep the rest of the day, but Kylo’s overbearing posture
suggests he will do no such thing.

Hux sighs: “I ask that you
leave your snide comments at the door. I assure you, I know what I am doing.”

“Perhaps you do not think so,
General, but your life is too precious to waste.” Says Kylo. His voice is
surprisingly tight, his tone – if it were to come from any other person, Hux
thinks to himself – could almost be considered worried. But Hux doesn’t have
the energy to analyse the nuances of Kylo Ren’s reactions.

He barks a laugh and stalks to
the Command Centre.

It is operating as always,
lights blinking and officers on the communication channels.

A Petty Officer sidles up to
him.

“General Hux,” he states, “We
have confirmation on Resistance movements. We’ve tracked them down to an
outpost in the South-West Plateau.”

Hux glares down at the
information the man has presented him with. The little lights on the hologram,
marking the rebels’ presence, are congregated in a small, isolated sector.

“Destroy it.” Says Hux. He has
no patience for any other course of action.

The Petty Officer nods:
“Understood.”

Hux looks out at the officers
under his command. They can do without him for another hour he decides, and
turns on his heel to stride back to his rooms.

Kylo Ren, the damned man,
follows him.

They make it into the next
lift and the automatic doors seal behind them.

The moment they are alone,
Kylo turns to him and sneers, “You reek of sex.”

“My affairs are, as I stated,
none of your business.” Hux replies.

Kylo Ren tilts his head at
that. Slowly, he raises a hand to trace the marks on Hux’s neck.

“These look like they hurt.”
He says.

Hux says nothing, suppressing
a shiver. Judging by the quiet chuckle Kylo releases, he doesn’t quite succeed.

Kylo regards him for a long
moment. When he speaks, it is neither with the haughty tones he used earlier,
nor the nasty lilt he uses to judge Hux’s failures. Rather, it is steady and
unbearably genuine.

“Be careful.” Says Kylo.

Hux
stops breathing. “Excuse me?” he says.

Kylo
continues regarding him. “Next time, find someone you can trust.”

Then,
he drops something into Hux’s hand and sweeps out of the lift.

When
Hux looks into his palm, he sees his stolen blaster and twenty credits.

*****

Hux avoids any sexual
encounters after that.

They are nowhere near a planet
where he could find a warm body anyway so it’s really a moot point. But even if
he could, Hux isn’t sure he would. His interaction with Kylo has shaken
something in him, and he isn’t sure just how to proceed. Kylo does not speak to
him any more often, or any differently. He treats him with the same silent
contempt, the same occasional smirk.

Things continue in this manner
until one evening, long after their last conversation, they stumble into one
another unexpectedly.

They are in the training
facilities, Kylo dressed in black practice linens as he stands on the mats and
Hux emerging from the shooting range.

Hux curls his lip and scoffs
in his direction, “After that embarrassment on Starkiller base I’m surprised
you even try. Hardly living up to the family legacy, are you?”

He has barely uttered the
words when he finds himself slammed against the wall, frozen and pinned by the
Force. Kylo Ren looms over him, face pale and teeth clenched.

Later, Hux will blame it on
sleep deprivation and the fact that he hadn’t eaten in two days, but at that
moment, the only thing to come out of his mouth are the words “Fuck me.”

He expects to get hit, or for
Kylo Ren to simply leave him there.

Instead, he hears the words,
”Do you have a safeword?” pass Kylo’s lips.

Hux doesn’t. He’s never used
one. Hux’s brow lowers into a frown and he opens his mouth to protest, to say
they don’t NEED one, that whatever they do, he can take it, but the serious
expression on Kylo’s face stops him.

Kylo looks at him with clear,
dark eyes, the light purse of his lips strangely comforting.

“Red.” Says Hux.

It isn’t the most original
word, he thinks. But he’s never used one before, and red is the first thing
that comes to mind.

“Hmm.” Kylo hums. “What are
your boundaries?”

Hux blinks. He isn’t sure what
to answer. Kylo seems to catch on, and fills in for him: “Can I kiss you?”

Hux nods. Yes.

“Touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Choke you?”

Hux’s breath stutters. He
licks his lips. “Please.”

The light glints in Kylo’s
eyes.

“Can I hit you?”

Throat dry, Hux nods. “Yes.”

Kylo appraises him. “Anything
you don’t want me to do?” he asks, eyes on Hux’s face.

Hux shrugs. No.

Kylo doesn’t look fully
satisfied with his response, but says nothing. Only the thin tightening of his
lips suggests that he might be displeased.

“If you ever want to stop, use
the safeword. Or tap your hand three times.” He stares at Hux for a second and
continues, “At any point. Whenever.”

Hux stares, stares, and nods.
He wants to say he won’t need to, but decides to keep his mouth shut.

Kylo gives him a smirk: “Well,
let’s get started.” With that, he unbuckles his belt, grabs Hux’s neck, and
forces him to the ground.

It’s hot. Really fucking hot.
Hux paws at Kylo’s belt frantically and nuzzles at Kylo’s cock, lavishing it with light kisses and small licks. It’s
warm and thick, tastes clean and just the faintest bit salty, and the short
hairs that tickle his nose smell of gentle standard soap. It’s horribly erotic,
and Hux feels his pants tightening as he breathes in the scent.

He takes Kylo in his mouth.

He’s done this before
countless times with countless men. It isn’t new, and he knows how to adjust to
the thickness, the stretch around his jaw. He finds a rhythm to his breath, to
the motions: in through the nose, out through the nose. In and out, up and
down, deeper and shallower. He tries to go deeper, tries not to gag, tries to
make this as good for Kylo as he can because he finally, finally has a chance
and he daren’t waste it. He wants to please so, so badly, and the thought
startles a half-choked sob from his lips.

Above him, Kylo spits a sharp,
“shut up” and tangles a fistful of hair in his palm, wrenching Hux’s face
deeper onto his cock.

Hux gags, tears pricking his
eyes. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He is impossibly hard at the realisation.

Kylo continues fucking his
mouth, cock slamming into his throat and blocking the air Hux desperately
needs. Hux feels the blood rushing behind his eyes, the pulse and hum of his
heart pumping in his body. He feels too hot, too electric, as though wires were
buzzing under his skin.

Kylo comes into his mouth, his
hand still tangled in Hux’s hair. It lingers there in the short strands for a
brief moment. Half-consciously, Hux think that it is almost intimate.

There, with come heavy on his
tongue, and Kylo standing coolly above him, Hux thinks it’s over. He’s still
hard, but Kylo has finished, and so he starts to wipe his face, inhales a
shuddering lungful of clean air, licks the come off his lips… He barely has a
moment to swallow before Kylo grabs him by the throat and throws him on the
ground.

Whatever air he’d managed to
inhale is pushed out of him violently as Kylo bears down on his body.

He feels pressure on his
windpipe, and then a cool burst of air on his cock as Kylo moves down between
his legs. Hux tries to raise his chest from the floor and finds himself unable
to move. He is pinned, the Force holding him down as he struggles. Kylo takes
his cock in his mouth, and Hux throws his head back at the sensation.

He may suck cocks often, but
he can’t remember the last time someone sucked him.

It’s good. So, so good. He
tries to take a breath and the pressure on his throat tightens like a collar on
a rabid dog. His pulse rings in his ears, stars building in his vision. He
realises he is babbling silently, tears blurring his sight.

Kylo slaps him across the
face.

The sting almost takes his
focus away from the pressure on his throat, the burning in his lungs, the
pressure on his chest. Almost but not quite. In the end, it makes him cry
harder.

Kylo hits him again, this time
with the back of his hand.

Hux cries out. The pressure is
building low in his stomach, fed by the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He can
feel every nerve-ending, every feather-light brush of air against his skin. It
is exquisite: everything Hux has wanted and more.

Kylo gives him one last suck,
one last push with the Force, and Hux finds himself coming. It is an explosion
of light, of feeling, of emotion. Time stops in that short second, as though
the world were trapped in molasses.

He takes a deep breath.

Time starts again.

*****

When he manages to refocus his
eyes, Kylo is above him, cleaning up what little mess they’ve left behind. His
hands are unbearably gentle as they card over his body and up through his hair,
and Hux finds himself leaning into Kylo’s palm as it cradles his head.

He feels warm and sated, too
tired to move.

Hux knows he should get up,
but his eyes flutter shut of their own accord. He wants to lie here for hours.

He feels Kylo’s hands on him,
lifting him effortlessly from the floor, and he breathes a sigh. With sure and
steady strides, Kylo takes him to his chambers. It is a wonder they do not
stumble across anybody during the trip. Hux wonders vaguely if that is Kylo’s
doing, if Kylo is using the Force to ensure their privacy.

The idea makes something warm
curl in his chest.

Kylo deposits him on a bed,
soft sheets and warm comforter burying his weight.

The warm hand comes back to
stroke his hair.

“You okay?” asks Kylo.

Hux hums his contentment, too
tired for words.

“I’ll get you something to
drink.” Kylo murmurs.

There is the press of lips
against his forehead and then Kylo’s warmth disappears for a moment. Hux can
still hear him; he has not gone far to retrieve the drink. Indeed, he’s back
within a few seconds.

“Here.” He says.

Hux takes the glass slowly and
sips. The water is smooth against his sore throat.

“Thank you.” He manages to
mumble. Kylo swipes a long finger down his neck, fingers cool against Hux’s hot
skin. It’s pleasant.

He feels himself drifting to
sleep, safe and warm in Kylo’s presence. And although he has no guarantees, Hux
has a feeling that Kylo will still be there when he wakes up.