mcgrussy:

kyluxhardkink:

Fill This Prompt or Submit Your Own

this is incredibly saccharine and not at all sexy. also, let’s pretend that pavlov exists in space, okay?

–

Ren kisses his knuckles afterward and says, painfully gently, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

If Hux hadn’t already been flush with impotent humiliation, that would have been enough to send him hurtling off that precipice into a sea of mauve-on-ginger-pale-skin. It’s a very ugly color, his blush is, all bruise-purple against sallow skin and dully red hair, and it makes him glad that Ren doesn’t keep a mirror in his bedroom, until he turns away from him in a huff and catches a glimpse of himself – themselves – on the reflective surface of Ren’s durasteel chest of drawers.

“I’m not ashamed,” he says through the grit of his teeth.

Ren laughs; the sound isn’t unkind, and Hux can see the faintest suggestion of a sympathetic smile in the durasteel’s reflection, but Hux flushes deeper, anyway. “You don’t have to lie, here, with me,” he says. “I can feel how ashamed you are through the Force. It’s not a particularly useful effort.”

“I’m not going to lie here with you if you keep talking about it,” Hux says. He spits the word talking like the foulest of curses. It makes Ren smile even wider. He curves his body around Hux’s new position and kisses a little too wetly under his ear for Hux’s liking.

“Don’t sour the mood,” he chastises softly. “Baby.”

–

It’s a wonder at all that Ren wants to sleep with Hux. He’s not even slim in a particularly feminine way; at least then, Hux could rationalize Ren‘s attraction as settling for the closest thing to a woman that’d touch him – no, he’s thin with stress and soft around the middle with age and a poor excuse for a diet and exercise regime. Commanding his troops has sharpened his mind to a fine point, but it’s made him – mushy – around the edges, and he’s nothing at all like Ren, rippling muscle that makes him feel their difference in age and ability so keenly – though that makes him circle back to his awkward androgyny, too pinched around the mouth for full lips, a shade too strong in the brow but far too weak in the wrists –

“Hux, you know I’m gay,” Ren says around a mouthful of exotic mixed nuts. “Why would I want you to look like a woman? And thanks for your confidence in my sex appeal, by the way.”

“Stop reading my thoughts, you monster,” Hux says, too exhausted to sound irritated and too familiar with Ren to pretend that monster is anything but a term of endearment. “Stay in your own head for once.”

“It’s hard to when you’re thinking so loudly,” Ren says. He noisily crunches another handful of nuts.

“I’m going to run your trachea through with a blade if you don’t stop chewing so fucking loudly,” Hux threatens hollowly.

Ren wipes his hands off on the sheets – this is why they rarely spend the night together in Hux’s quarters – and leans over to kiss Hux. He tastes salty. It’s…not the worst thing Hux has ever tasted.

“You’re a monster,” he repeats, grabbing at Ren’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. “And an animal,” he adds, kissing the pads of all ten fingers until they taste a little less like salt and a little more like Ren.

“Your monster,” Ren says, almost solemnly. “Your animal.” He grabs Hux’s hands, this time, and kisses his knuckles. The implicit act of fealty is enough to have him beginning to harden in his sleep pants, though there’s a niggling Pavlovian response that has the fine hairs on his arms standing at attention.

“I won’t call you it if it genuinely makes you uncomfortable,” Ren
acquiesces. “And you have to know how deep my attraction to you runs. I’ll adhere to every rule you set in place for me if you’ll only continue warming my bed.”

“Useless romantic,” Hux says, drawing him in for a kiss. “Sentimental idiot. You’re a child, ruled only by your emotions and impulses.” Each statement passes through Hux’s lips and into Ren’s cavernous mouth and echoes back at him.

“I thought you called me an animal before,” Ren says, kissing down the length of Hux’s neck, speaking into the hollow of his throat when he adds, “A soft-bellied beast.”

“Call me baby, again, you tremendous ass,” Hux sighs, the words drawn out from his chest as deeply and painfully as if it were his heart instead. “Why must you make me voice these things, as if you aren’t living inside my head already?”

“Baby,” Ren says, pressing a kiss to the concaving space under his breastbone. “Baby,” he says again, pressing a kiss, lower this time, to his navel. “Baby,” he says, again and again and again, into the places on Hux’s body where his nerves are the most sensitive, and then back into his mouth entirely, using the simple, soothing repetition of the twist of his wrist, wringing an orgasm out of him that feels so much that Hux, stupidly, begins to cry.

“Baby,” Ren says, rocking his still-clothed cock awkwardly into Hux’s stomach, “baby, don’t cry, it’s okay – “

“Ren,” Hux stresses through a lump in his throat the size of a planet, “I’m fine, just – come for me. Hold me afterward. Let me sleep in your arms.”

Ren’s hips grind almost painfully into him, and they stutter hard enough to knock the wind out of Hux when he adds, as nakedly fondly as he ever could and ever will, “My protector,” and pulls Ren hissing and whining in turns into an orgasm of his own.

–

“It truly is Pavlovian, what you’ve done to me,” Hux chides him as he rides his strong thigh in the middle of an empty conference room. “You call me – that, and it’s like all the blood in my body converges.”

“I don’t even need to use the Force,” Ren teases him, cupping his chin and drawing him in for a kiss. “Baby.”

If Hux comes immediately, well, blame psychology. Speaking frankly, it’s what got him into this mess in the first place.

A mess, Ren echoes in Hux’s head, as clear and loud and physically reverberating and joyous as a ringing bell. “And all the better for it, baby.”