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Ren should have foreseen it. Sensed it. Taken some of the burden of planning and securing and worrying from Hux, and then perhaps the man he loved wouldn't be currently staring down the ends of multiple firearms, head held high and shoulders back, that sneer Ren had come to love sending Hux's gorgeous face into a mélange of sharp cheekbones and shadows; and all that striking display only amplified by the fact that Hux's luxe champagne robe hung open on his slender frame, the Nabooian silk clinging to one collarbone and pouring down off his shoulders all the way to his knees, leaving his lean, freckled legs bare, all the way up to where his cock was scantily covered by the fluttering material of a matching negligee. The pale gold silk stood in stark contrast to the intricate black lace trim and the pink flushedness of his chest, where it peeked out, heaving, above it—irate, irritated, and irresistible.
Or at least: irresistible had been the point, that Hux had specifically purchased the set for his and Ren's mutual enjoyment on their long-overdue getaway from their shared rule as Supreme Leader and Chancellor; Ren, as soon as Hux had come from the refresher after a long bath, hair tousled, ungelled, across his forehead, golden robe coyly tugged open to reveal his sleek negligee, had grabbed him around the waist, kissing him senseless and pinning him against the tall windows of the sitting room in their luxury suite to make his way down Hux's soft, scented body to where his rosy cock was tenting the expensive material obscenely. Ren shoved the slippery silk up his stomach, taking him fully into his mouth as Hux arched against the cool transparisteel, stormy clouds beyond dark on the dying horizon, long fingers tangled in Ren's hair, pulling him deeper as he moaned Ren's name deliciously.
Hux had just murmured that he was close, Ren's jaw aching with his efforts but determined to suck Hux dry, when suddenly the window pane shattered above them.
Time had slowed: Ren could feel the lag in Hux's usually quick reflexes, made torpid by mounted pleasure, and he had let Hux’s cock slip from his mouth, dragging him to the floor immediately and shielding him with the Force as they scrambled for shelter behind a marble panel. And through the shielding he felt something—something in the Force, something off.
He hadn't had time to think about it. Ren had thrown his hand out, calling his saber and Hux's blaster to them as two assailants in all-black tactical gear had rappelled in through the open window amidst the sound of the other panes breaking. He had waved his hand, using the Force to temporarily conceal their position, and glanced over at Hux to check with his eyes that he was in fact in one piece.
Hux had been crouched next to him in an defensive stance behind the waist-high marble divider, hair mussed and silk robe slipping off one narrow shoulder, blaster in hand and a dangerous, determined look on his flushed face. His negligee had fallen back down over his pelvis, preserving some of his modesty, but the satiny material pooled in the crease at the top of his thighs, revealing most of his long pale legs. If Ren had had the time to think, he was pretty sure he would have been rendered speechless at the sight.
Hux, he thought at him, instead, in haste. Got a plan?
Ren would have taken the six-on-two odds without a second thought if it had been anyone other than his husband by his side. He wasn't willing to risk that for anything.
Hux had grimaced, displeased, his thoughts shuffling in the background as he pulled all relevant information into the forefront of his mind, spreading it out before him as though on a holoprojector. There was also a very annoyed, murderous thought about how the fucking resort owners had assured him the transparisteel was blaster-proof. It was one of the reasons Hux had selected the location, after thorough investigation.
How many are there? Hux had sent back quickly. Can you sense their weapons?
Ren had already known how many there were, but he rapidly scanned their minds for information on their weapons and general intent. He tried not to dwell on how he could have possibly not sensed their proximity or malintent, but it flickered through his awareness regardless, shamefully.
Six, all human men. All equipped with armor-piercing blasters. Ren could feel them hesitating, scanning the room and muttering to each other on comms.
Alright. They'll be heavy, then. We've got agility and the element of surprise on our side. Take out what you can with the Force and I'll cover you from behind.
Ren had met his grim, determined eyes, nodding his affirmation and projecting towards him a quick pulse of affection. Just in case.
Hux sent one back, deadly calm.
Now, Ren thought.
They had stood in tandem, Ren throwing both arms out to fling the two men on the fringes against the walls then grabbing his lightsaber; Hux took out the two in the middle in quick succession, an expert shot right through the vulnerable visors of their helmets. By time the remaining two had zeroed in on their targets, Ren had had his saber up and blocking, a malignant whirl of red that refracted in the scattered transparisteel now littered across the room.
He could hear the quick muffled squeak of Hux's bare feet on the polished wood of the floor as he pivoted in unison with Ren, exchanging shots with the two assailants from behind the shield of Ren's saber. The primal heat of battle rose in the room, the clink of fine things breaking and the twips of blaster shots nipping furniture and masonry. He was grateful that their years together had given him a near-constant awareness of Hux's physical location, and that he didn't have to think about how to best provide him cover—his body just did it.
Hux had picked one of the assailants off while the man was preoccupied trying to hit Ren, but the understated, triumphant note Ren felt from Hux turned sharply into one of pain and alarm. It had taken all of Ren's willpower to keep blocking the remaining intruder's shots and not turn to look at Hux.
Hux! Are you okay?! he sent, along with what was surely an accidental tidal wave of concern and protectiveness.
He had received back a vague impression of Hux holding his head, pulling his hand away to assess the amount of blood on it, picturing the fine runnel along the side of his scalp where his hair had been sheared off, an angry, bloody line in its place.
Shrapnel from that bastard’s shot must have nicked me. I'm fine.
Ren had categorically disagreed.
He’d hurled his hand out towards the assailant, projecting him along the floor by his feet to slam him against the far wall and stalked towards him, all fury and wrath and power, looking him in the eyes as his hand twisted to end it. He could feel it all—the gasping despair as the man was tossed around, resistance futile, the mounting fear as Ren approached, a ferocious harbinger of death, and the sparking, fizzing strains of a lifeforce at its end, before the nothingness that remained in its place.
Ren didn't always take pleasure in being able to sense those things, but when it was recompense for blood spilt from his beloved chancellor, he reveled in it.
The revenge had been bewitching enough to engulf all his senses, and how stupid he was to let it: Hux's urgent, clipped Ren! had drawn him out of it like sun from thick fog.
A little help, if you don't mind followed it, Hux emitting a shallow sense of annoyance along with his bubbling indignation.
Ren had dropped his hand, and the body of the assailant slid down the wall with a sickening thud as Ren spun around, and there, at present: Hux flanked by two assailants—the ones Ren had apparently not thrown into the walls hard enough earlier, by some strange magic standing—hands raised as far as his pride would allow them, blaster kicked away at his feet, that murderous sneer on his face, silk boudoir set in breathtaking disarray.
Hux looked lethal—he looked like an avenging angel from the depths of horror stories told on superstitious planets—he looked like the next move on the part of the assailants would be their blood spilled, and much more than the fine rivulets running down through Hux's flaming hair and caressing his neck like crimson laurels.
Ren grinned viciously as the two men deliberated between him and Hux, energy strumming through him, brimming at the chance to overflow.
You go right, Hux.
Hux's eyes gleamed where he stood. Ren knew he had it strapped on under the sleeve of his robe, as always.
Hux flung his hand down to slide his monomolecular blade from its sheath, swirling amidst shimmering silk to slash the vulnerable throat of the assailant nearest him, right where the armor joined. Ren heaved the other one off the ground—his legs kicking uselessly, pathetically—by the neck with the Force and strode forward, plunging his saber into his chest.
The heavy weight of a body dropping caused Ren to turn, tossing his own interloper carelessly to the side.
Hux stood above the slain man, back to Ren, with his bare foot raised on the assailant’s chest, blood pooling around the man's head. The sash of Hux's robe swayed around his pale legs, his slender back heaving with the breaths of his victory as he held his arm up and carefully returned his blade to its sheath.
Ren powered down his saber, stepping towards Hux and turning him by the shoulder so he could assess his condition—
—and his mouth fell open, and he growled deep in his throat, tantalized, seduced. Hux was spattered with blood—a graceful arc, from cheekbone to hip, the scarlet spray on his lingerie spreading fine tendrils like ink on parchment, the champagne of the silk mixing with the lifeblood of his victim. The blood of his own injury had slowed, sticky and thick, a deep black-red crown against the inferno of his hair, but the blood on his face was slick, wet, and striped the angles of his face in gorgeous, grotesque chiaroscuro, bright beneath the fan of his quivering golden lashes.
Poised over his kill, flushed and furious and half-nude and beautiful—Ren had never wanted him so fiercely. His whole body trembled, muscles tensing, burning with the desire to hold him—to have him.
Ren threw his saber to the side, sparing the barest thread of thought to float it safely to a table in the corner. He yanked Hux against himself, crushing their lips together and burying his hand in his battle-strewn hair. Hux responded immediately, a torrid flood of want and lust and passion overwhelming Ren's mind and senses, Hux's hands digging into Ren's waist and back with abandon.
Ren needed him, needed him more than he needed to breathe. He slid his hands to grip Hux's thighs, hoisting him up in his arms, and Hux's legs went around his waist without hesitation, arms circled round Ren's neck as his tongue battled against Ren's with desperation.
The first time Ren had picked him up like that Hux had been both very uncomfortable with it and unreasonably aroused—thinking of how strong Ren was, even if he was cheating with the Force, and also incredibly overwhelmed with how delicate it made Hux feel: something he usually went to great lengths to avoid feeling, but for some reason didn't hate the way he thought he would—but he didn't trust Ren enough at that point, and his emotional conflict only led him to be annoyed with it all. He had demanded Ren put him down immediately.
But now: years together made them move in tandem, and Hux clung to—groped—Ren with familiar desire, body hot and needy against his, not objecting or stopping when Ren bore him to the first flat surface he could see—the black stone table in the untouched dining room—sidestepping the fallen assailants and chunks of marble as he went.
The granite was cool on the back of Ren's hands as he leaned over it, laying Hux out before him: a feast to be devoured—a delicacy to be ravaged. The pale gold of his robe had slipped all the way off his shoulders, and pooled at his elbows, splayed open across the wide table like an altar cloth for a sacrificial offering—bloody silk and creamy sash loose and free. Hux's face beneath him was rife with pleasure, impassioned under the streaked blood, the bright scarlet smear making the whites and greens of his eyes stand out in startling contrast.
Ren’s moment of admiring his prize ended when Hux fisted his shirt, yanking it inelegantly up towards Ren's head.
“Off,” Hux commanded. “Everything—off!” The wave of untamed desire that he was projecting towards Ren, even unintentionally, was flooring—staggering.
Ren didn't care that the dining room was beset by windows on all sides as the other room had been—he stripped off his tunic and pants without a care, baring himself to whomever cared to watch from nearby skyscrapers or renegade speeders, skin burnished with the blaze of the setting suns and the purple thunderheads on the horizon.
Hux caught him around the waist with linked ankles, grabbing Ren's face when he stumbled forward and sealing their mouths together again, nails digging into Ren's back and teeth biting at his lips. Ren opened for his slick tongue, moaning breathlessly at Hux's ravenous display. He slid an eager hand back into Hux's unkempt hair, eliciting a pained gasp from him when Ren's fingers brushed his wound.
Ren pulled back immediately, hand going to gingerly assess the shallow cut. “Hux, fuck, I forgot—”
Hux clutched his face, forcing Ren to make eye contact. “It’s nothing,” he hissed, intent. He reached up, caught Ren's hand by the wrist and pulled it down to his chest, spreading Ren's fingers over the smooth ruined silk. “Put your hands on me. Touch me, Ren. Take me.” And the unspoken words, as always: worship me.
Ren's fingers curled in desire, the gold fabric bunching up under his hand, his voice hoarse.
“Gladly.”
Hux's smile was sharp and self-satisfied.
The thin straps came off Hux's shoulders with ease, slipping down his slender arms and baring his small nipples when Ren tugged at the black lace of the neckline. The spray of blood on Hux's upper chest and neck above was like an exotic bloom—a tropical fern—plumage from an alien bird, vermilion against a blushing sky. Ren bent his head to nuzzle the dip of his throat, to mouth at the narrow ridge of his blood-spattered collarbones; Hux's hardened nipples were licked, and pulled, and sucked, until Hux was squirming under him, cock hard against Ren's thigh amidst a wet glut of precome that had soaked through the fine silk.
Through Hux's lust-riddled thoughts Ren could hear him begging incoherently for Ren to touch his cock, Hux's hips echoing the sentiment in needy little thrusts upwards. Ren relinquished Hux's chest, stepping back to run his hands up under Hux's short little negligee, catching the hem with his thumbs. Hux's skin was hot, pink and alive, and the material slippery over the tops of his hands as it slid up past Hux's thighs, catching briefly on his straining cock. It bobbed as the fabric gave, a bead of precome spilling down the shaft in its wake, practically begging Ren to taste its rosy head.
He sank to his knees, throwing Hux's legs over his shoulders and taking his cock down completely. Hux cried out, cursing, fingers tight in Ren's hair, narrow toes curling on the bare skin of Ren's back. Ren sucked him into the back of his throat, swallowing just to hear Hux's stuttering groan, then pulling off to suckle the tip. Stars, but he needed to be inside Hux, right then.
Ren slid one hand from his grip on Hux's hips down to his entrance, pressing against it with his thumb. A startled moan caught in Ren's throat when he found him lubricated and loose, Hux gasping lightly at the intrusion.
“Fucking hell, Hux,” Ren stammered, as he pulled off Hux's cock to watch as he slid one finger, then two, right inside him. “You—you were like this the whole time? With your blaster—with your blade—and wet and open for me the whole time?”
Hux panted, moistening his full lips and tilting his hips down onto Ren’s fingers. “I was, yes—for you, for us—Supreme Leader.”
Ren dropped his forehead against Hux's pelvis with a deep groan, his own cock throbbing painfully between his legs. The thought of Hux, fingering himself in the warm waters of his bath—Hux, steely-eyed and vicious in combat, all the while with lube dripping down his thighs, slick and willing for Ren—it was enough to nearly make him come untouched.
Hux's strong fingers in his hair brought him back to himself.
“Kylo,” he whispered, strident, low, handful of dark waves pulled tight. “Inside me. Now.”
Ren tipped his head up, meeting Hux's burning eyes, bright and imperious amidst his bloody face. He stood, yanked Hux's hips to the edge of the cool black granite, and drove in, all the way to the hilt.
He knew Hux could take it, would take it—Hux screamed, back arching off the stone, speech incapacitated but his mind ecstatic: Yes, Kylo, give it to me—Kylo, my Kylo, mine, mine!
Ren spilled his senses towards Hux as he slammed into him mercilessly, his mind melding with Hux's amidst their shared pleasure. Hux's mind during sex was so warm, so open, so unlike its normal state, and Ren had told him how utterly rapturous it was to behold—to see, to feel in his own body the pleasure he was giving Hux, to feel their union amplified. Hux had tacitly given him permission to do so.
Hux's main thoughts were all of physical delight: the glorious painful stretch of Ren's cock in him, the exquisite heft of Ren's testicles as they smacked the back of his ass with each thrust, Ren's big hands gripping his hips, and the inimitable image of Ren, face blood-streaked from kissing him, body broad and muscled and scarred and majestic, framed against the fiery, tumultuous sky. Hux didn't say it often, but Ren could read it off his thoughts, like skimming pale blue cream off milk: I love him, I love him.
But beneath it all, spiky and small and white-hot—the return of his orderly mind, now that the danger was past, and the conclusions it was piecing together behind the scenes, growing in intensity: How did the assassins find them in the first place? Who sent them, and were there more coming? How did they get past Ren's senses? Were they still in danger now, spread out in coital display with naught but a useless window between them and their imminent demise? How could he have chosen their location so poorly? Foolish, weak, stupid—
Ren slowed his hips, sliding all the way into Hux and leaning up over his rucked-up negligee to cup his pretty face between his palms.
Hux opened his eyes, startled, brow furrowed in confusion. “Ren, what—?”
Ren swallowed up his question with gentle lips, thumbs stroking his smooth cheeks. Hux caught up after a moment, soft mouth moving against Ren's and lethargic hands tangling in his hair.
We're safe, Hux. It's okay.
Hux jerked a little in his arms, not aware Ren had heard those thoughts—barely having heard them himself. He caught Ren's lower lip between his teeth.
What have I told you about listening to those kind of thoughts, Ren? They're in the background; they're inadmissible—you just need to let them run themselves out. I do.
Ren slid his hands down to Hux's elegant neck, felt the heavy pulse of his blood under his thumbs as he nipped back at his lips. Yeah, but you know I hate when I hear you calling yourself that…those things that he called you.
Ren didn't see Hux roll his eyes, but he could still sense it.
Kindly refrain from bringing up my father while you have your cock up my arse. It rather kills the mood.
Sarcasm: Hux's undeniable tell; Ren concealed that thought quickly. Hux hated for anyone to know he was afraid—still terrified of showing weakness to anyone. He allowed it with Ren occasionally, but not very enthusiastically.
Hux, he sent instead, lips moving to kiss Hux's blood-smeared jawline. We're okay. We'll figure out who those men were and how they found us later. And then we'll deal with it together. We're okay for now.
Hux's throat tensed under Ren's hands, swallowing hard, Ren's ministrations calming him enough for his mind to feel safe letting forth a buffeting volley of fast, sharp thoughts. It had taken years for him to feel comfortable doing so. His hands clenched in Ren's hair.
How do you know that, Ren? Because you can't sense anything? I could tell: you didn't sense it before. How is that possible? Is this some new form of weaponry? Did someone develop some sort of Force-dampening technology? Why the hell are we fucking when we could be—what sort of chancellor am I if I can't—what if something had happened to you—Kylo—what if—
Ren slid his hands into Hux's hair, pulling back to meet his frenetic eyes. He couldn't deny he sensed a disturbance as well, but there was no use trying to explain to Hux that the Force was calm around them at the moment. He would meditate on it later—after he had thoroughly fucked his husband. Sex with Hux always caused the Dark passions within him to bloom, spreading within his veins like power incarnate. It was one of many things that only cemented his certainty that they were meant to rule together.
Ren tried to project as much calming energy as he could towards Hux—he had never been as effective an empath as Ben's mother had been. Hux. Nothing happened to us. We're fine. We've been through worse. Nobody's after us right now, I can tell.
Hux made a skeptical, condescending face. You couldn't tell before. How could you possibly be certain of that now? To Hux's scientific mind the qualitative aspects led to an indisputable conclusion.
Ren bit back the words that's not how the Force works, as always. He stroked his fingers through Hux's bright hair. Hux tilted his head into it, almost imperceptibly.
“That's because I wasn't looking for it before. I'm looking now. And I promise”—Ren rolled his hips away a fraction before sliding back in, torturously slow, angled right at Hux's prostate—“we are not in danger.”
Hux let out a staggered exhale, his walls tightening weakly around Ren's cock. “Stars, Ren.”
“Yeah? You seeing some?” Ren asked with a grin. He could feel Hux's mind relaxing, pleasure wafting its way to the forefront of his consciousness.
Hux narrowed his eyes at him, the expression made ferocious by the blood smudged all over his cheekbones, like rouge on a harlot.
“Fine. If you're not going to see logic at the moment, kindly shut up and continue to fuck me,” Hux demanded, kicking at Ren's ass with his bony feet. “But we will come back to this later.” Kylo, he added mentally, green eyes softening defiantly as he held Ren's gaze.
Ren's mouth quirked in a little smile at Hux's pithy acknowledgement of gratitude. He braced himself on one elbow—his fingers coming away from Hux's head sticky with blood—and reached between them for Hux's cock, tugging it quickly back to hardness. Hux tipped his head back, eyelids fluttering shut.
Ah, yes, Ren. Hux's lips were parted, blush pink amidst ruby-stained alabaster, his nails digging into Ren's back as he resumed his pace.
Ren knew Hux hated when Ren was tender with him—or at least that was what he claimed, but as Ren gazed at him fondly, and brushed the divots of Hux's hips softly with his thumbs, and pressed a kiss to the side of Hux's knee where it was slung over Ren's shoulder, Ren could feel the swelter of Hux's affection rising between them.
Hux's gasped breaths became freer and closer together as Ren leaned back to speed his hips, bracketing one arm across Hux's legs where they ran up his chest and reaching for Hux's cock with his other hand.
You going to come for me, Hux?
Hux wanted to scoff, Ren could tell, but was too breathless to do so at the moment.
Give me more, Ren. Use it on me.
Eyes falling shut, Hux raised his arms—bloody dagger innocently tucked there in its pitch-black forearm sheath—wordlessly, willingly, over his head, laying his crossed wrists on the marbled granite beneath him.
Ren's arousal spiked so hard he could feel the reverberations through Hux's pleasure as Ren's cock throbbed inside him. He sent coils of the Force to bind Hux's wrists immediately, locking them in place, just this side of too tight.
Hux’s breath caught, choked in his throat, as he pulled at his bonds, finding himself pinned down and entirely at Ren's mercy as Ren resumed fucking him without quarter. Hux never admitted it out loud, but he knew Ren could read it off his thoughts: Ren's power turned him on beyond measure.
Being physically incapacitated didn't, however, stop him from being as demanding as usual—the thoughts spilled from Hux like a cascade, rushing him towards his climax as he thrust his hips up, taking Ren as deep as he could: harder, Ren. Fuck me with that big cock of yours. Stars, yes, there—! So good—more, Ren!
Ren growled, pulling back almost all the way and slamming into Hux’s slick hole repeatedly, the sound of flesh on flesh lewd, primal: erotic amongst the carnage of their shared violence—their shared union.
Hux arched, fingers curling into fists above him, his nipples pebbled tiny and hard next to stained lace and silk, mouth open in voiceless pleasure underneath quivering eyelids. Ren was transfixed by the sight, by the crest of Hux's ecstasy—he wrapped a spiral of the Force around Hux's straining cock, and he came with a beautiful tortured gasp, his come spattering across the bloody silk like snow on fiery grounds.
He released Hux's cock gently when it was done spilling itself, Hux's thighs trembling against Ren's stomach where they were held fast, his breathing labored and sated. Ren looked over him: his magnificent chancellor—his matchless partner—his beautiful, delicate, indomitable husband—
—and his affection poured from him like a deluge, flooding into Hux's mind as Ren's cock flooded his exquisite body with his release, hot and copious and thick.
Ren came to bent over Hux, head hanging, braced on his elbows, his whole body quavering with the force of his orgasm. Hux was stroking his hair slowly, lazily, his wrists having apparently been loosed amidst Ren's pleasure. He was projecting—likely unintentionally—an overwhelmingly satisfied sense of possession—and of belonging.
Ren tipped his chin up to meet his hazy eyes.
Hux's blood-stained lips curved into a rare soft smile: small, triumphant, and wholly sublime.