persephassax:

our love is a forest fire – Star Wars, KYLUX

Rating: T // Words: 890 // Post-TLJ // H/C // For @sluthuxx, who was sad because why can’t evil space husbands be nice to each other, at least. I don’t know if this will really fix it, but hopefully it won’t make it worse. (Title from A Softer World: 876)

***

“Something you learn early on, as a mind reader, is that you cannot trust what you hear in someone else’s head.”

Hux says nothing in response to the voice filtering out of the darkness of his quarters.

“It’s only after many years of familiarity that you can start to predict someone’s actions based on the thoughts in their head. But, even then, you can’t ever be truly certain.”

There’s a creak from deep in the room, furniture moving under someone’s weight. Hux stays where he is, silent, exhausted. He feels dried out from the lack of sleep and the recycled air of the ship.

“For the first time, in so many years, I am uncertain what you will do, Hux. Your thoughts bring me no clarity,” Kylo Ren remains an indistinct shape in the darkness just beyond the sad spill of light that illuminates the entryway to Hux’s rooms. Hux can almost make him out, face bare, the scar haphazardly bisecting his face still startlingly new. Hux doesn’t say anything.

He blinks slowly at Kylo Ren. He can feel the man’s gaze skitter across him, taking in his every feature, as if looking for some clue, something he has missed.

With a sense of finality, Hux brings his hands up to his collar.

“I don’t know what you expected,” he says, voice hoarse, pulling the thick uniform cloth away from his neck, knowing it will put the bruise-mottled flesh of his throat on display.

He hears Kylo draw in a quick breath, it’s a familiar hiss of sympathy, laced through with guilt, the same one that would make an appearance when Kylo would discover bruises blooming beneath Hux’s pale skin from their rougher couplings. It was endearing then, the marks already forgiven before either of them were aware of their presence. Now it is a slap in the face, a reminder of all that has already gone wrong between them.

But Hux doesn’t have the energy left to flinch.

“First the scavenger girl, then this,” Hux rasps out, letting his hands fall to his sides, leaving his collar open, leaving himself exposed down to the clavicle. He thinks maybe if he were less cold from stress and lack of sleep, his skin might prickle with the chill of the room. But he isn’t and it doesn’t.

“She didn’t-” Kylo’s voice cracks. “She couldn’t possibly have even a fraction of your importance.” His voice is a whisper in the dark, in the distance between them.

Hux says nothing. He doesn’t have anything left to say. Exhaustion has reduced his thoughts to static – words and feelings having fled with the anger that had fueled him during their assault on the Rebel base on Crait.

“I wanted her to bolster our side in this war. You can I both know how the Force can impact the tide of a war. I couldn’t let them have that. Hux, please-”

And Hux distantly registers that he should be feeling triumphant, that he has reduced the Supreme Leader to begging with mere silence. But the buzz of white noise that is occupying the space behind his eyes doesn’t abate enough to allow the thought to settle.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he says, exhaustion finally taking from him whatever defeat had left behind.

“Hux, you have to know- I would never- The Force-”

Kylo sounds desperate. Still mired in darkness, the voice reminds Hux of the boy Kylo Ren used to be – still naive, still terrified by the monster that lived inside of him, this dark thing that used his hands to wreak havoc on the Galaxy.

When Kylo stepped into the meagre light of the entrance, Hux found himself face-to-face with that boy – the one who still doubted his master’s assurances that he was on the path to true power – the one who woke shivering from nightmares he could never put into words – the one who crawled into Hux’s arms and his bed and his mind to receive the cold comforts of Hux’s own broken childhood and his clear-eyed power-hungry calm.

Even as things changed between them, the amassing of hurts between them – inflicted by Hux with his words and Kylo with his blinding passions – ever they remain the same.

Kylo, the double-edged sword, the ready protector, the unguarded flame ready to burn down the Galaxy to lay its ashes at Hux’s feet.

Hux, the cold and bitter wind of avarice, his unquenchable thirst for power, and his cold heart that beat slowly only when placed next to Kylo’s warmth.

Their love was something ferocious, a wildfire ready to consume them as easily as the rest of the Galaxy. It was the only thing Hux had ever held which made him feel warm.

He hears Kylo intake a sharp breath.

The thought and the shift in the air are the spark that push through the grey fuzz of Hux’s exhaustion and he takes a step closer to Kylo (and another and another).

Kylo’s arms envelop him, the fabric of his clothing is warm where it presses against Hux’s exposed throat.

Enough, Hux thinks.

Snoke’s machinations, and this war, and the Galaxy itself, have already robbed them both of so much – it was enough, they wouldn’t have this, too. Hux would ensure that the wildfire warmth would burn until the breath was gone from both their lungs.