elviscl:A feast for @claricechiarasorcha I had to add a few words:Of course Ren would have to delay
elviscl:A feast for @claricechiarasorcha I had to add a few words:Of course Ren would have to delay them now. And Ren knows how important this particular diplomatic gathering is; much as he is often seen to leave the greater bureaucracy of governing to his grand marshal, only a fool would believe Ren incapable of such tasks. He simply knows Hux enjoys these things far more than he ever will.At times like this, however, Hux feels as though he would rather pull his own nails out with his teeth than oblige him this way. They were supposed to meet here ten minutes ago. Instead Ren has sent him a comm, requesting Hux’s presence in his lavish guest suite. But Hux cannot grind his teeth, nor roll his eyes, nor even curse the damned man beneath his breath. He must smile instead, excuse himself from the cocktails and conversation, and move upstairs at his leader’s command.He hadn’t even had the chance to take a glass of the offered wine, he thinks, sour and sharp. The thought of it had been a treat; he rarely allows himself to overindulge when on-planet like this. Ren is aware of that, too.Hux keys the code to the Supreme Leader’s private suite, teeth masked behind a smile perfected for propaganda. It is a wasted effort, given Ren is not in sight. Hux closes his eyes but briefly. Though he then calls out, he knows it is not needful; even had Ren not heard the door, his Force would have long since told him of Hux’s approach.“Supreme Leader?”“In here.”Taking a short breath, Hux glances sideways, as if the reflection he catches in the mirror there might give him strength. In an odd way, it does: he is sleek and perfect in the fitted tuxedo, a chiaroscuro play of black on white. His hair burns above all, rising eternal flame. And so he turns, and steps into Ren’s bedchamber.And there, stops dead.Kylo quirks something like a smile at him from the bed – and he is not ready. He is not even dressed, buck-naked and grinning now like a fool. One arm rises as if in salute, a goblet of fine golden wine cradled in the great ridiculous thing he calls his right hand.“I thought you deserved this.”“What, a drink?” Hux remains still silhouetted by the doorway, still and watchful. “Yes, I do rather need a drink.”“Well.” He shifts his hand a little, just enough to tilt the ambrosia in his glass. “Come and take it, then.”Hux gives no leeway when he moves closer, pressing up so close that Kylo must open his legs to accommodate his demand. There, Hux gazes down upon him, along the sharp bridge of his upturned nose.“We don’t have time for this.”“Oh, but we do.” It’s lazily given, as if he can hear Hux’s thoughts screaming at such foolishness. “They’ve already capitulated. They accepted all of our demands.” Now he offers a coy look upward, from beneath dark lashes. “Well. All of your demands.”The tightening in his groin comes warm, even as Hux’s eyes narrow. “…so we are not needed.”“Oh, we are always needed.” He tilts his head just a little: just enough, really, to show the long lines of throat and jaw. “But I think we can have this time for ourselves, don’t you?” His hand shifts, again. “A drink, then, Armitage?”Hux’s own hand moves to the centre of that great broad chest. Under its pressure Kylo moves obediently backward, thighs still bracketing Hux’s far slimmer hips. Shifting his hands again, Hux revels in the smooth-silk slide of gloves over bare skin. Kylo holds the glass between two hands now, aloft and still. It’s almost too easy to encourage those muscle legs upward and apart, to press his groin against Kylo’s backside and feel even through his trousers the slickness that awaits him there. Hux doesn’t smile, not yet, fingers tracing nearly gentle over the oddly delicate bone of one ankle. “Don’t you spill,” he whispers, and leans forward; there he lets his mouth curve upward, low throaty chuckle pressed from lips to skin. “…at least, not until I tell you to.” -- source link