Ok kids, strap in. #Prux drabble incoming!
Armitage would always remember the night he lost his virginity—the way his new husband’s gaze softened as the young lieutenant unclasped his wedding uniform, revealing plains of pale, unsullied skin.
“Gorgeous,” the older man breathed, sliding gloved fingers over the curve of his bride’s exposed clavicle, a thumb over the shallow of his neck.

“Thank you, Sir.” Armitage replied promptly, his pink lips forming the words flawlessly.
Armitage had been groomed for this day—reminded of his duties to the Empire, how his husband required him to soothe away the stressors of the day, how he lacked agency in this new union. If Pryde tired of him, Armitage would be considered a failure.
Pryde had been a close associate of Brendol, peripherally aware of the commandant’s bastard when he was just a babe, ushered about by a nanny droid. Over time, the child grew into an adolescent, though his body remained slim and soft—unusual for a cadet training at the academy.
Those grey-blue eyes had lingered on Armitage’s slender body as he grew, which did not go unnoticed by Brendol and their peers. Pryde’s tastes were peculiar, but not uncommon amongst the droves of unattached men leftover in the flotilla.
Many had abandoned their wives as they fled the Rebellion, bringing only their children and the clothes on their backs. The Empire needed children. But aging men and growing children didn’t do anything to increase the birth rate.
Those with enough clout could barter for their children’s hands in marriage, Brendol taking the first opportunity to inform Pryde of Armitage’s stellar grades and skill in leadership.
Without available women, same-sex partnerships became considerably more commonplace—but Pryde didn’t need convincing, not when the green eyes of a young cadet gazed up at him from under those red lashes.
And now, those same green eyes watched him, revealing his body inch by inch until the lieutenant stood only in his underwear, nervous for his husband’s approval.

Oh, if only Pryde could express just how beautiful the boy before him was.
Flawless ivory skin was dotted with periodic freckles, gloved hands sliding over those shapely hips, making Armitage shiver in anticipation.

“Are you cold, my pet?”

“No, Sir.”
Pryde’s gloved hands slid up Armitage’s sides, feeling the bumps of ribs under his skin, stretching out his thumbs until he could rub them over the boy’s nipples. Armitage drew a gasp through his perfect lips, his spine tensing some at the stimulation.
“Do you like this, Armitage?”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

The scarce amount of heat in the boy’s tone was damning, leather-clad thumbs pressing and rubbing until those petite nipples had hardened to points.
The redheaded boy made a soft sound of pleasure, the front of his underwear slightly swollen with interest. Pryde could only dream that Armitage had desired him in return, but it scarcely mattered now, the older man leaning to tease over one of those firm nipples with his tongue.
That earned Pryde a genuine sounding “a-ahn-!” from his new bride, uncertain hands finding Pryde’s shoulders, kneading them softly. The lieutenant was clearly unpracticed, gasping sharply when one of Pryde’s gloved hands moved to cup Armitage through his underwear.
Armitage had kissed a few boys in his time at the academy, but this was different—no one had looked at him or touched him the way Pryde currently was. The older man lavished both nipples with his tongue, already achingly hard in his breeches.
Those curvy hips bucked into the touch, Armitage allowing himself to grow hard in his husband’s gloved hand. Pryde couldn’t believe how perfect the boy under his hands was, firmly stroking the outline of his stiffening cock through the soft fabric of his underwear.
Armitage made a sweet, keening sound in the back of his throat as his precome created a wet patch at the front of his underwear, Pryde intentionally rubbing at the spot with a gloved thumb. The boy’s hips jumped at the stimulation, groaning in need.
“You’re such a good boy,” Pryde praised in a husky tone, drawing a whine from Armitage.

“T-Thank you, Sir.”

It was almost too much to have the object of his desires so visibly aroused, the redheaded boy nearly panting as his cock strained against the fabric of his underwear.
“Remove these,” Pryde instructed, forcing himself to draw away and sit back on the bed they were to share.

Always good at taking instruction, Armitage carefully peeled away his underwear, gasping sweetly as the cool air hit the overwarm flesh of his cock.
Pryde had to focus on keeping his breathing steady, watching Armitage expose himself, aroused and waiting for Pryde’s instruction.

What sort of husband would he be to refuse such a sweet gift?

“Undress me, Armitage.”
“Yes, Sir.” Was all it took before Armitage had drawn closer, allowing Pryde to admire his nude body as he pushed away layers of uniform tops, tugging at the clasps keeping Pryde’s aching erection kept in place.
Without being told, Armitage was on his knees between his husband’s thighs, suckling at Pryde’s newly exposed cock like a kitten seeking milk.
The older man groaned heavily, watching in awe as the redheaded boy lapped and suckled at the skin, reaching a slightly trembling gloved hand to pet through that pretty red hair.
“Like this, my pet.” The older man explained, guiding Armitage’s lips to the tip, spreading them over the top. The warmth of that virgin mouth sent a shock of arousal to his very core, watching as the boy dutifully moved his head, exploring his husband with lips and tongue.
It took everything Pryde had not to let the eroticism of the act push him over the edge--as badly as he wanted to spill across his lieutenant's curious tongue, there would be time for that.
"Touch yourself," he commanded gently, tracing gloved fingers over the shallow of Armitage's cheeks as he bobbed his head. Nearly immediately, one of the redhead's slender hands was gripping around his own leaking cock, a wanton noise muffled by his full mouth.
This precise scenario had played out dozens of times in Pryde's subconscious, forcing himself to grasp Armitage by the jaw, easing him off slowly. The boy's green eyes were immediately uncertain, wondering if he'd made an error.
"Well done, Armitage." He offered the boy as praise, one of his gloved thumbs wiping saliva and precome from flushed pink lips.

"Thank you, Sir." The boy replied promptly, licking at the sullied leather as it traced his mouth.
"Come here," the older man ordered gently, pushing his breeches and undergarments off with his boots.

His cock was heavy and flushed as Pryde shifted to lay in the bed, beckoning the young lieutenant closer.
For the first time, Armitage was visibly apprehensive, sliding into the bed beside his husband. Pryde would have given anything to bottle this moment--the aroused flush of Armitage's skin, the slender hand sliding across his chest, the soft lips pressing gently against his jaw...
"I want you to ride me, Armitage." It was no small wonder that Pryde was able to keep his voice steady, curving an arm around his bride's slender body and pulling him close. The redhead felt himself blushing, having only recently been informed of his physical duties.
"Do you know how to prepare yourself for me?"

"Y-Yes, Sir."

The redhead pulled away from his husband's embrace, retrieving the bottle of lubricant on the side table. There were also condoms and massage oils, but Armitage hadn't been instructed to grab those.
Without requiring additional instruction, Armitage moved to straddle his husband's lap, slicking his fingers with the lubricant before reaching back between his thighs. He swirled his slick fingers around his rim, whining faintly at the attention.
Pryde could only watch, knowing the very moment Armitage penetrated himself with a finger by his beautiful expressions--and how a drop of precome oozed from the tip of his cock, dripping onto Pryde's abdomen.
Armitage pumped a single finger in and out of himself before daring to add a second, gasping at the stretch as he eased them both in. He'd been told he should prepare ahead of time, but his anxiety about the ceremony and reception made it slip his mind entirely.
It was only marginally pleasurable, Armitage able to tell that he wouldn't be able to reach the sweet spot by himself, growing frustrated as it seemed just out of reach--and he began easing in a third finger.
"I-I don't think I can take anything more, Sir." Armitage explained, fucking three of his own fingers into himself, a wet noise rising between them in the quiet of the room.

"No? Do you feel full?"

"Y-Yes, Sir."
"Well done, Armitage." Pryde offered, reaching to brush some of that red hair off the boy's sweaty forehead. "I believe you're ready."
The redhead nodded, gasping softly as he slid the fingers out of himself, reapplying some lubricant to his fingers so he could stroke it over his husband's cock. Pryde groaned at the lubricant, but his very breath was stolen when Armitage rubbed his slick hole against the tip.
Momentarily speechless, Pryde could only observe as Armitage set to his task--easing his slender body down, hole fluttering as he pressed the tip against it, gasping sharply when the swollen head popped inside.
Armitage was panting, his entire body flushed a dark shade of pink as he began to move his hips, pushing and pulling despite the sting. He'd only barely taken the head of his husband's cock, but he still felt his hole straining, a slightly pained whine passing his lips.
Pryde hushed his new bride, taking the lubricant in hand and applying some to his gloved fingers, reaching back to rub against the spot where his cock vanished into the boy's body, slicking the outside of his rim with leather-clad fingers.
"No need to force it, my pet." Pryde assured him, cupping one half of the boy's ass in his palm to pull him off, only to carefully press his cock back inside at a slight angle. It went a bit smoother, Armitage nearly cooing in delight. An angelic sound, to be sure.
Perhaps another man would have forced the penetration, making the poor thing weep--but Pryde had no interest in damaging this perfect gift he'd been given, especially when he'd been taking instruction so obediently.
Armitage allowed himself to take his time, carefully moving his hips with the aid of the gloved hand on his backside, keeping him at a pleasurable angle. Each push and pull of those perfect hips had more of Pryde's cock sinking into his prize, until he was nearly seated.
It was on one of these pulls that Armitage trembled, his thighs tensing in pleasure. That spot his fingers couldn't reach currently had the head of Pryde's cock rubbing against it, making the lieutenant whine and dribble precome over his shaft.
Pryde immediately picked up on the change, gently thrusting his hips upwards into the writhing lieutenant in his lap. The redheaded boy began moaning outright, making unrestrained, indecent noises.
"Do you enjoy this, Armitage?" Pryde asked, slightly breathless, still pistoning upward into the boy's body.

"Y-Yes-! Mnh! Yes, Sir-!" Armitage cried, bouncing in his husband's lap, the sound and smell of sex surrounding them.
The redhead honestly hadn't expected it to feel this good, feeling himself approach some kind of bliss the more Pryde fucked into his warm, willing body. The tongue lolling from his mouth and the glazed look in those green eyes told Pryde all he needed to know.
"I want you to come for me, Armitage."

The redhead went an impressive shade of scarlet at the command, bracing one hand on Pryde's taut abdomen as the other went to stroke his straining cock.
The sheer amount of precome was enough to keep the stroking smooth, the lieutenant choking on a sound as he touched himself. It wouldn't be long, the boy crying out loudly as he reached climax, spattering come across his husband's chest as his body tensed.
The grip of that already tight hole around his cock punched a moan from the older man's gut, thrusting deeply and hissing through his teeth as he started to come, filling Brendol's teenage son with his seed. Freshly graduated from the academy and finally of marrying age.
Nineteen and flawless, Armitage arched into the sensation of his husband's spend inside him, moaning like a good wife should. Pryde slumped back into the sheets, working to catch his breath as he admired how ruined Armitage looked, ravished and properly deflowered.
Tomorrow, they would resume their military positions, but Pryde would take this time to drag his spouse into an involved kiss, enjoying the mewling noises the boy made against his lips. Such an eager, obedient boy he'd been blessed with.
Second Lieutenant Hux graduated from the academy in the flotilla with stellar marks in everything except the physical training simulations. Still, it was enough to earn the rank of captain within his first year--following the mysterious resignation of a few fellow officers.
Pryde had been a colonel for a number of years, but the gears were turning as they always did, slowly moving him forward toward a generals position. Brendol had earned his just recently, cocky as ever with his new command.
The man had always been unaware of anything outside himself, but Pryde wondered if Brendol had any idea the way Armitage glared at the man when his back was turned. As Armitage grew into his twenties, he became colder, more thoughtful.

Scary.
But, Armitage remained a proper wife of the Empire, dutifully seeing to his husband when they would meet after a long absence. No longer the uncertain lieutenant he'd been when they were wed, Armitage served Pryde with efficiency that could only be described as impersonal.
It was a shame, really. Their work kept them at opposite ends of the galaxy--Pryde at the forefront of colonization, while Brendol kept Armitage close enough to scold at all times. Pryde wondered if he could ask to have Armitage transferred to his command.

And then Brendol died.
In the whirlwind of events that followed, Armitage was promoted to general and named a woman from Parnassos as his second in command. That little slip of a redheaded boy was transforming into something of a force of nature, seizing influence and power at an incredible rate.
Perhaps another man would have been put off by a younger officer surpassing him, but not Pryde. The Empire--and by extension, the First Order--had very strict rules for matrimony.

These rules were of no importance to Kylo Ren when he boarded the Finalizer in 29 ABY.
General Hux was instantly put-off by the Force user, irritated by his bad attitude and ability to gain Snoke's favor. Hux had worked for this status, only for some brat off the streets to waltz in and become a part of the chain of command with no experience whatsoever.
Their arguing was a near constant, creating talk amongst the crew--the sexual tension was palpable. Word eventually reached Pryde that Snoke's young apprentice was causing quite an upstart on the Finalizer--sounding as if it were out of his dear spouse's control.
Kylo had been fending off boredom by irritating the general, finding him fun to annoy from behind the privacy of his mask. He could grin at a particularly terrible joke as Hux started lecturing him about wasting time, his red eyebrows pinching together attractively.
Kylo wondered in passing if Hux would ever be interested in fooling around, curious if the stuck up officer even knew what sex was. It was an idle curiosity that developed into a couple of wet dreams, but nothing the knight couldn't handle.
One cycle, Kylo head for the bridge to see what Hux was doing--only to find him missing. The knight checked a few more of the usual spots along Hux's patrol, but still, the redheaded man was nowhere to be found.
Returning to the bridge, Kylo grabbed the closest lieutenant to demand an answer.

"I need to discuss something of importance with General Hux. Where is he?"

Lieutenant Mitaka did his best not to collapse from fear, swallowing thickly as he prepared to deliver bad news.
"The Silencer docked alongside us at 0700 hours, Sir." Mitaka explained, hoping that would be enough.

"And?" Kylo pressed, not paying much mind to who ran which ships and who was important--aside from those he dealt with from day to day.
"Um- Allegiant General Pryde is visiting, Sir." Mitaka added, feeling himself growing embarrassed as it became clear that the only one who didn't know what that meant was Kylo.

Instead of asking again, Kylo scowled behind his mask, looming over Mitaka.
"T-They're currently in a private meeting!" Mitaka squeaked out, excusing himself before Kylo could make him accidentally wet himself.

A private meeting? Sounded dull. Maybe it would be more entertaining if Kylo crashed the meeting--the look on Hux's face would be priceless.
Lacking the self-control to not irritate Hux, Kylo head for the meeting rooms--only to find most of them empty. The only one in use was the one for special guests, with the long table and multitudes of windows to gaze at the stars.
Kylo reached for the access panel, only to stop short of touching it. Something had rippled through Hux's Force signature just then. Something... unexpected.

There it was again. Kylo swallowed thickly, closing his eyes and reaching out with the Force to find Hux.
What he found was so far beyond what he expected, Kylo nearly forgot to breathe. He couldn't see exactly what Hux was doing, but Kylo could -hear- him. He could hear soft gasps and the way his breath caught, the way his voice wavered when he tried to speak and failed.
The other person said something vague and muddled, Hux replying with a heated "y-yes, Sir". A moment later, Hux cried out in pleasure, Kylo losing his ability to focus, the connection cutting out.

The knight lingered in the corridor, abruptly equal parts aroused and confused.
And... fiercely jealous.

Who was this person that just arrived and got to have Hux all to themselves? Was a military rank all it took to impress the redhead? Kylo wouldn't be entirely shocked if that were the case.
Once again failing at self-control, Kylo banged on the durasteel door with his fist.

"I have business to discuss with General Hux," Kylo barked at the door, the vocoder garbling the sounds. He felt a shock of panic in Hux's Force signature, soothed away by the other presence.
Several moments passed before the door was unlocked, the light on the panel clicking over to green, the doors sliding open when they sensed the knight’s presence.

Inside, Allegiant General Pryde was sitting in one of the conference chairs, smoking an e-cigarra.
General Hux stood behind Pryde, doing everything he could to hide his expression at being caught at something scandalous. Really, coitus with one’s husband wasn’t unusual, but the conference room wasn’t appropriate—nor was stopping so that Pryde could appraise Snoke’s dog.
Certain rumors told him that this young man had been snapping at Hux’s heels, following him about and bothering him like a school boy with a crush. That wouldn’t do.
Pryde took another drag off the cigarra, pulling a face as it sputtered out, passing it to Hux over his shoulder. The redhead’s lips tightened into a thin line as he took it, replacing the cartridge before handing it back—like some kind of servant.
“Won’t you start it, dearest?” Pryde requested casually, Hux’s lips twitching faintly at the command.

The redheaded man brought the cigarra to his lips, puffing at it until the vapor had started to flow properly.
Pryde leaned back to gaze at Hux, beckoning him closer. The general leaned down and pressed their lips together without hesitation, exhaling the vapor into Pryde’s mouth. The whole time, the older man kept his gaze on Kylo, smug in his victory against the younger man.
Hux straightened his posture and handed the cigarra back to Pryde, visibly demoralized by performing a wifely task in front of one of his peers.

“So, you’re the one called Kylo Ren?” Pryde began, exhaling a cloud that tasted as sweet as Hux’s breath.
“And you’re the one keeping the general from his duties,” Kylo snarked back, relieved that his helmet hid the frustrated blush spreading across his cheeks. Who was this, and why did Hux so readily serve him?
“Allegiant General Pryde, at your service.” The older man slid the cigarra into one of the folds of his uniform, flashing the knight a dry smile. “Armitage tells me you’re quite a nuisance.”

Hux’s posture stiffened from his place behind Pryde, notably avoiding looking at Kylo.
...Armitage?

Kylo glanced at Hux, sensing the shame broiling under the man’s stern facade. This... this wasn’t Hux. This wasn’t the same man that snapped back at Snoke when he knew he was being wronged, nor the same one who rolled his eyes at Kylo and lectured him.
It made Kylo... angry. He didn’t understand what this old man had over Hux, how he made the normally snappish general into a callgirl—it felt wrong.

“Your opinion of me is of no importance,” Kylo growled through his teeth. “I have business with the general.”
“Go on then,” Pryde invited with a wave of his hand. “You are free to speak.”

Kylo bristled at the man’s confidence, waiting for Hux to lecture him into shape as he did everyone else under his command.

The redheaded man simply stood there, as if quietly awaiting instruction.
“My concerns are for the general’s ears only.”

Pryde smirked, reaching over his shoulder and gesturing for Hux to offer his left hand. The redhead did so without complaint, allowing the older man to remove his glove and expose the black wedding band underneath.
Kylo swallowed as that slender wrist was exposed, admiring his long fingers—and then he saw the ring. He felt his heart get caught in his throat, the realization like a slap in the face.

“Anything you need to discuss with him, you may discuss with me.”
Kylo was speechless, anything clever having been thrown from his head the moment he saw that ring—and the look of mortification barely concealed in Hux’s expression.

“Nothing to say?” Pryde pressed with a perk of one grey brow. “Then I suppose we’re done.”
Kylo lingered for another moment, a tempest of half-realized insults and threats buzzing in his head—some dark little voice telling him that he shouldn’t distract himself anyway. Flirtations were a waste of time better spent training.

And the object of his desires was married.
“...General,” Kylo bid farewell to Hux with a nod of his helmet, storming from the room like a sulking child.

Before the doors slid shut behind him, Kylo heard Pryde telling Hux: “he doesn’t seem so difficult. Are you sure you’re trying hard enough?”
With nowhere to put all this built-up anger, the knight ignited his saber with a snarl, bashing his weapon against the walls and cleaving droids in half as he went to the training rooms.
Kylo continued to sulk and pitch fits over the next several weeks—Snoke had decided that Hux was performing better with Pryde present, which had a lot to do with Kylo no longer pestering Hux at his leisure.
Apparently, the allegiant general would be staying to assist with the completion of Starkiller Base, not that Hux needed any sort of assistance with his own project. Kylo had seen Hux lovingly detailing out his blueprints when he was trying to get the initial funding from Snoke.
For years, Hux had pleaded his case, explaining just how devastating his proposed weapon would be—if only he could build it.

Snoke had eventually given the general a paltry amount of funding, which was immediately used to build an operational scale model that could melt doors.
Kylo found the general’s enthusiasm in the project kind of charming, which was probably why this new interloper bothered him so completely. Hux had assembled a team of the finest engineers and weaponsmiths to realize his vision—only for Pryde to insert himself.
The Finalizer was quiet as construction began nearing completion.

Hux and Pryde had been on Starkiller Base for several cycles now, delegating orders via checklists sent over once a cycle. They didn’t read like Hux’s words, sounding more like Pryde.
Seemingly overnight, Pryde had replaced himself as commander of the Finalizer, Starkiller Base, and the entirety of the First Order military. With every command Hux gave, Pryde would click his tongue and cancel it to give his own, making the redheaded man bristle.
It was late one night when Kylo rolled over in bed, grabbing his datapad from the side table and tapping out a quick message: “hi”.

Hux had been in the process of serving Pryde a drink when his datapad pinged, asking for permission to check his messages.
Permission granted, Hux picked up his datapad to see a simple “hi” on the screen—from Kylo Ren, of all people.

“Is it anything important?” Pryde asked, sipping at the brandy Hux had poured him.
“No, Sir.” Hux insisted, turning the datapad face-down before returning to his husband’s side.

Kylo was discouraged by the lack of an answer, suspecting that Pryde had something to do with it. That man was becoming a real pain.
Clad in only his knee-length robe, Hux moved to sit on the blue sofa beside his husband, jumping very slightly as he settled his weight. Pryde smirked to himself at the performance, sipping at more of the Arkanisian brandy he’d been served.
“You look tired,” Pryde noted casually, giving Hux a once-over. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Hux’s posture instantly stiffened, his hands tightening to fists in his lap.

“Sir?”

“You’re developing wrinkles around your mouth. You don’t moisturize enough.”
Hux swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. His age had been a concern since he’d crossed into his late twenties, but now he was in his mid-30s and working himself to exhaustion.

He knew he didn’t look amazing, but he didn’t exactly think he looked -bad-.
“And these dark circles are getting worse,” Pryde pointed out, drawing one of his gloved thumbs under Hux’s eye. “You don’t sleep enough.”

Hux bit his tongue, preventing himself from pointing out that Pryde hadn’t been flawless and fresh-faced in his thirties either.
“My apologies, Sir. Most of my time has been spent work-“

“Well,” Pryde cut him off before he could finish. “It’s a good thing I’m here to worry about all that.”

As if his words were meant to be comforting, Pryde pat Hux on the knee—scowling at the paltry amount of dry skin.
Hux felt like he were going to explode if he had to keep himself composed for a moment longer.

“I’ll get started right away, Sir.” Hux announced, moving to stand—only for Pryde to catch him by the wrist.

“Hurry back.”

“...Yes, Sir.”
Hux rushed into the refresher and closed the door as fast as he could manage, catching sight of himself in the mirror. Pryde was right—Hux was too pale, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out. He scowled, which only highlighted the developing wrinkles around his mouth.
The redhead spent a long time in front of the mirror, agonizing over minor imperfections, digging his nails into slight differences in his skin. He ended up with pink splotches on his face from where he’d worried at it, Hux looking worse off than when he’d started.
The redhead hunched over the refresher sink, squeezing his eyes shut as they started to burn.

-Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless.-

Hux hoped that the nitpicking about his appearance would end with Brendol’s death, only for Pryde to effortlessly fill the empty space.
“Armitage?” Pryde called from the next room—his glass needed refilling.

Hux looked up at the mirror, his eyes red with stifled emotion, his nose running some.

“Nearly done, Sir.” Hux called through the door, scrambling to wash his face and apply moisturizer to his body.
Almost a master at composure, Hux seemed no worse for wear when he gracefully reentered the room—having applied a lip stain to his mouth to obscure his chapped lips, and a light powder foundation for his blotchy face.
Hux wordlessly took the glass from Pryde, dropping a pair of ice cubes into it before pouring out more of the Arkanisian spirit. He zoned out some as he poured, gasping as some of the alcohol overflowed from the glass, dripping onto the floor—it was cold against his bare toes.
Embarrassed, the redhead kneeled to wipe it up, only for Pryde to approach, standing beside him and placing a boot on the rag.

“Are you having trouble?” Pryde asked, lifting a brow as he looked down at Hux.

“N-No, Sir.” Hux insisted, keeping his eyes on the floor.
“That is a forty year aged brandy, Armitage. Are you really going to waste it by wiping it up?”

Hux felt the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, dreading where this admonishment was going.

“Sir..?”

“Use your tongue.”
Hux grit his teeth at the command, still not daring to look up.

“Sir, it’s only a little-“

“So it won’t take you very long.”

Hux’s lips twitched downward into a frown, hesitating and glaring at the puddle of alcohol on the otherwise shining floor.
The shining boot lifted from the rag, Hux hoping that meant the man was relenting—only for the sole of that boot to press against the back of Hux’s head.

“You’ve been very careless lately,” Pryde drawled, applying enough pressure to force Hux to lean toward the floor.
Hux felt himself on the verge of snapping, forcing himself to remember that any crimes committed against Pryde were crimes against the First Order—which included disobedience against one’s husband.
It was an unwritten rule that everyone but Kylo Ren seemed to understand, which was once again made apparent as the knight obliviously sent another message: “Hux?”

Pryde’s attention was drawn by the pinging of the datapad, the man’s curiousity getting the better of him.
Hux breathed a muted sigh of relief as Pryde departed to investigate, the redhead hurriedly cleaning up the mess and discarding the cloth before anything could be done about it.

Pryde turned the datapad over, seeing the two unacknowledged messages—both from Kylo Ren.
The older man scowled at the screen—did they not teach manners where this mongrel was from? It was not only inappropriate to message high ranking officers about frivolous matters, but it was more inappropriate when that officer was married and actively with his husband.
“The Supreme Leader’s apprentice seems quite taken with you.” Pryde noted aloud, turning the datapad back over.

Hux had finished wiping down the glass, setting Pryde’s drink on the table as he resumed sitting on the sofa. Hopefully, they could retire to bed before much longer.
But the very notion that Kylo was taken with him in any way was preposterous, Hux snorting aloud.

“I very much doubt that, Sir.”

Pryde was amused by the reaction—Armitage had never been very good at spotting subtle flirtation.
“Do you think he’s inquiring after other officers at this time?” Pryde wondered aloud, seeing genuine disbelief in Hux’s expression. “Somehow, I think you’re the only one.”

“That’s ridiculous, Sir.” Hux murmured. “I’m certain the agitation he makes me feel is quite mutual.”
“Is it?” Pryde pressed, moving to reclaim his spot on the sofa. “I suspect he enjoys your reactions.”

Hux hadn’t once considered that Kylo’s endless badgering was some kind of flirtation, recontextualizing some of their interactions in his head.
The knight’s tantrum following that tense moment in the meeting room made more sense. If he’d been following Hux around in the hopes of getting somewhere, the wedding band would be quite a shock.

“Does it matter, Sir?” Hux asked, finding all this talk of Kylo Ren distasteful.
“He’s clearly thinking about you if he’s trying to contact you,” Pryde noted, retrieving his refilled glass, sipping at the contents. “And what does a man think of when he’s lying alone in bed, hm?”

Hux felt himself starting to blush at all this talk, shifting in his seat.
“That’s hardly any of my concern, Sir.” Hux was visibly uncomfortable, unsure what Pryde was getting at.

The older man chuckled, settling in against the sofa, sipping at his drink.

“I suppose you’re right,” Pryde remarked coolly, swirling his glass.
After taking another drink, the older man settled back into his seat, allowing his eyes to roam over Armitage’s adult body. He wasn’t bright-eyed and truly submissive any longer, obeying his orders with a clear resistance simmering under the surface.
“Come here,” Pryde commanded, reaching down to unfasten the front of his breeches.

Hux glanced over, pressing a muted sigh through his nose as he saw what Pryde was doing.

“Of course, Sir.”
Ah, there it was—Armitage glanced down at Pryde’s erection, his lips curling very slightly, his brows twitching. He very clearly didn’t want to, but he dutifully slid down onto the floor anyhow, slotting himself between the man’s thighs.
“That’s a good boy,” Pryde murmured, watching the way Hux set his jaw at being called boy—leaning in to drag his lips along the shaft anyhow. “You’ve still got some use left.”
The criticisms had been a constant since Pryde had decided he was staying, watching those red eyebrows knit together uncomfortably as the general took Pryde’s cock into his mouth, his lips twisting unpleasantly.
It was intoxicating to still have this power over Armitage—the general with clearance to speak to the Supreme Leader directly, with the mind to create something as terrifying as Starkiller Base, Brendol’s only living legacy—on his knees and serving, just like when he was a boy.
Pryde’s criticisms were as familiar to Hux now as Brendol’s, the words almost a part of him as he continued to serve.

“Nh... That’s good, Armitage. But I know you can do better,” the older man husked, cupping Hux’s head in his gloved hand.
Without warning, Pryde pressed on the back of Hux’s head, making the general squirm.

In the meantime, Kylo was getting increasingly annoyed with Hux ignoring him—weren’t they supposed to be co-commanding? Annoyed, he sent another message: “we still have business to discuss.”
The ping of the datapad had Pryde releasing his hold, Hux pulling off immediately and coughing. Pryde chuckled at the display, wiping the saliva from Hux’s lower lip as those green eyes glared at him. He looked defiant, but Pryde knew he’d never go against the Order.
“Try again,” Pryde instructed with a grin, sipping at more of his drink.

Hux felt slightly nauseous, resuming the task he’d been given, the older man groaning as Hux’s mouth enveloped him. At least this time, the redhead was permitted to go at his own pace.
“Do you think that man imagines doing this with you?” Pryde wondered aloud.

The thought made something flutter in Hux’s gut, his face flushing with color as he continued to bob his head.

“He’s young—he’d probably just burst in your mouth the moment you touched him.”
The mental image was unavoidable—Hux picturing the groan of pleasure garbled by the vocoder, that large body quaking as Hux pulled away, taking the knight’s spend on his face.

Without realizing it, Hux had begun sucking Pryde off with more fervor, his skin growing warmer.
-Would- Kylo be interested in this?

The thought buzzed in Hux’s head, his cock-sucking becoming more involved and needy. What would Kylo taste like? Was he even human under all those layers? Perhaps he was some Force-powerful beast from deep space, hungering for human bodies.
As frustrating as Hux found Kylo, he was the only other living thing that desired Hux—as far as he knew. Pryde had seen many longing eyes on Hux over the years, the redhead too engrossed in his work to ever see it. Pryde preferred it that way.
“Does that get you off? An inexperienced man blowing his load on you?” Pryde pressed with a lifted brow, watching as Hux sucked his cock like a desperate man. Perhaps Pryde should have been angry, but -kriff- Hux’s mouth was tight and hot right now, dragging him closer to orgasm.
The datapad once again pinged across the room, Hux making a soft keening noise as he buried his nose against the thatch of grey hair at the base of Pryde’s cock. The older man groaned thickly, his hips quaking as he came down Hux’s throat.
Kylo looked at the series of unacknowledged messages, feeling sort of foolish now that more time had passed.

“Hi.”
“Hux?”
“We still have business to discuss.”
“Has my room been prepared yet?”
Hux was half-hard and panting by the time he finally pulled off, looking incredibly debauched with his wet lips and hazy eyes.

Was a little suggested cuckolding what got his wife off these days? Armitage had always been so good to Pryde early on, when he wasn’t experienced.
That young teenage boy with the bright eyes and the supple skin, gasping and blushing when Pryde would touch him just-so... how he missed that. If only he could have been young and perfect forever.
Now it took more work to get Hux off, work Pryde wasn’t inclined to put in. He’d finished, so the man tipped back the rest of his drink and rose from the sofa so he could head to bed, leaving Hux to sit and suffer with his thoughts.
Stars, Hux couldn’t think about anything except what it might be like to serve Kylo Ren the way he served his husband. The knight was younger, something Pryde had framed poorly, but all Hux could consider was the stamina of a man who trained as much as Kylo did.
The redhead stumbled over his own feet as he rose from the floor, making an attempt at composure. Pryde was done with him for now, so he could theoretically get some work done...

He glanced at the datapad, still lying face-down across the room.
The decision didn’t take as long as it should have, Hux padding across the room on bare feet, lifting the datapad into his hands. Was this amount of correspondence unusual? Hux wouldn’t know—he’d been married at 19 and promised at 16, so he didn’t have much flirting experience.
“Strange of you to show sudden interest in my projects, Ren. Why the change of heart?
-General A.B. Hux”

Kylo had been mostly zoning out, daydreaming about Hux’s little waist when his datapad pinged. He looked over and stared at it in disbelief for a moment, finally grabbing it.
“All I asked was if my room was ready.”

Kylo thought that sounded dumb as soon as he sent it, but was pleased to see Hux responding right away.

“It is. All rooms for high command have been finished for some time, not that you would know, since you’ve never attended a meeting.”
Kylo smirked at that, able to hear it in Hux’s cute Imperial accent, picturing the sneer of that pretty mouth.

Kriff, Kylo must have been starved for attention—even this little banter went right to his cock.

“You’re better at details,” Kylo wrote back, slightly giddy.
Hux rolled his eyes, heading back to the sofa—eyeing the empty glass Pryde had left behind. What would be the harm in a drink after his trying evening? It would get the taste of Pryde out of his mouth.

“Obviously,” Hux replied, setting the datapad aside to pour himself a drink.
“And so modest,” Kylo teased, reaching down to adjust his cock in his shorts as it swelled some.

Hux gracefully crossed his legs as he sat, sipping at the brandy—it -was- nice. The message made him chuckle, replying: “I’ve worked far too hard to be modest about my achievements.”
“It is impressive—I’m sure it will be better when it’s operational.”

Kylo was still teasing some, but it took incredible dedication on Hux’s part to make Starkiller Base into a reality. Credit where it was due.
Hux preened slightly at the praise, not having many opportunities to pat himself on the back lately. Pryde had a way of taking the wind from his sails.

“It’s more impressive in person,” Hux assured him, a slight thrill shivering though him at the idea of Kylo being nearby.
Kylo couldn’t tell if Hux was being intentionally inviting, or if he was just imagining it because he was horny. It was usually the latter with Hux.

“I thought you’d enjoy the time alone,” Kylo replied, though he realized it probably sounded mopey.
Hux frowned faintly, realizing that he’d been especially miserable with only Pryde around to talk to. Had he -missed- Kylo’s interruptions?

“It’s too quiet,” Hux finally responded, which instantly confused Kylo.
Kylo always told himself to assume Hux was being cold and professional at all times, but that particular admission didn’t slot in to the professional category. If Hux thought it was too quiet, did that mean he wanted Kylo there?

“You make it sound like you miss me.”
Hux hesitated at those words, his fingers hovering over the screen.

“I don’t quite know you enough to miss you,” Hux sent after several attempts at wording, not wanting to give Kylo the satisfaction of admitting it outright.
“Do you want to?” Kylo replied without thinking, wishing he could take the message back.

Hux licked his lips, reaching one hand down to trace feather-light fingers over his cock through the silk of his robe. It was an awful tease, Hux’s hips trembling sweetly.
“I think I might,” Hux replied with shaking fingers, his other hand stroking his cock to fullness through the silk of his robe. He had no idea what Kylo would even think of him like this, but the thoughts in his head were persistent.
Kylo stared at the words for a long time, briefly wondering if he’d nodded off and was dreaming this. Hux had never once been sweet or inviting, the words on the screen hard to believe they’d come from Hux.

“Careful, Hux. Your husband might not like that.”
“I don’t particularly care what he does or doesn’t like. He certainly doesn’t care what -I- like.”

Kylo felt heat rising to his face—was Hux trying to say they should have an affair? Probably not, Kylo was just getting ahead of himself.

“Well, what do you like?” Kylo replied.
The question was the next logical step from Hux’s comment, but the words were still surprising when they popped up on the screen.

“Do you want to know something terribly depressing?” Hux wrote, sipping at his drink. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
Kylo frowned at that. What kind of marriage was theirs that Pryde had never asked Hux what he’d enjoy?

His mind wandered back to the conference room, where Hux stood behind Pryde like a servant. Kylo’s parents hadn’t had a perfect marriage, but they’d loved one another.
Even bad marriages had to have bright spots—why had they gotten married in the first place?

“If he’s such an ass, why did you agree to marry him?” Kylo was baffled—there wasn’t any courting? Hux didn’t seem the type to suffer fools or empty affections, so Kylo was baffled.
“I never agreed,” Hux sent, letting the message linger for a moment before explaining—Kylo obviously had no idea what Imperial marriage was like. “I was sixteen and a perverted old man offered my father a paltry amount of influence and credits for my hand.”
Kylo was horrified—Hux had been promised to a man thirty years his senior when he was only sixteen? He thought of himself at that age, angry and uncontrolled, sloppily using the Force and scaring his parents.
“If he’d had his way, I would have been married off immediately. At least the flotilla had the sense to not allow marriage until nineteen.”

Kylo had the feeling that not only had no one asked what Hux liked, but no one had asked if Hux was happy, either.
“Are you okay?” Kylo finally asked, suddenly understanding Hux in a way he hadn’t before.

Hux’s lips twitched downward at the question, feeling something big and ugly threaten to burst out of him—but he bit it back as he always did, his eyes burning.

“It won’t impact my work.”
“I don’t care about that,” Kylo responded immediately, slightly offended that Hux would assume he did. “You can’t be nothing but work, Hux.”
“You can say that because your schedule consists of rolling out of bed after lunch and wandering the ship looking for something to ruin.”

Hux hadn’t exactly intended to come off that catty, but his mood was... fluctuating. He was some combination of annoyed, aroused, and sad(?).
Kylo huffed—he wasn’t like that! He got out of bed at 1100 hours at the latest!

“Whatever,” he shot back, scowling at the datapad as he shifted to sit up against the headboard.

“Not that I do much working these days, try as I might.” Hux downed the rest of the alcohol.
“Let me guess—Pryde gets to undermine you because you’re married.”

“Now you’re catching on—perhaps you can be taught after all!” Hux replied, Kylo almost able to hear how underhanded the compliment was.

“Don’t you outrank him?”
“I do, but Imperial marriage certificates name a husband and wife. I am his wife, so his word overpowers mine regardless of rank.”

The idea of Hux as a wife had images of the redhead in white lace and silk running through Kylo’s head, Kylo glad that Hux couldn’t see him blush.
Kylo wanted to say something about how Hux would look amazing in white, bringing out the vibrant shades of his hair and eyes, complimenting his pale skin instead of washing him out.

Should Kylo even consider saying such flirtatious things to a married man?
It’s not like Hux was happily married—but Kylo remembered his mother becoming incensed when Han would go on a bender with Lando, returning smelling like booze and whores.

Was it Kylo’s place to be a homewrecker?
Was it homewrecking when Hux had been a teenager with no control over who he was given to?

“You’d look good in white,” Kylo finally sent, feeling his heart pounding as he considered if that was too bold.
Hux was surprised by the message, feeling a bit of color rising to his face. He hadn’t been told he looked -good- since...

Well, it had been a solid decade.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Hux replied awkwardly, unconsciously tugging his robe around himself more tightly.
“Why not?” Kylo asked, honestly perplexed—did Hux have something against white?

Hux’s lips tightened at the question, able to feel the creases around his mouth that had developed with age.

“I’m not exactly a young man.”

“And?” Kylo still failed to follow.
Hux was exasperated by Kylo immediately, setting the datapad aside and getting up to pour himself another drink. The bottle was getting low—Pryde would be upset when he realized, not that Hux currently cared.

“The black looks good on you already, I figured white would be nice.”
Kylo was a little concerned that Hux wasn’t replying as promptly as he had been—maybe flirting had been the wrong thing to do? Hux had always been hard to read, but this was completely uncharted territory.
“You’d look good in anything, honestly.”

Hux returned with a full glass, spying the series of messages and blushing when he realized what they said. He had no idea how to respond to this kind of thing anymore, reduced to a bumbling, blushing mess.

If only Kylo could see him.
“How old are you?” Hux finally asked, unable to respond to any of the other messages directly.

Kylo scoffed—what did his age have to do with anything?

“Almost 29. Why?”

Hux had no idea what to think—it defied logic that a younger man would find him appealing.
Didn’t men always want young, sexy partners? Hux had lost that in his twenties—it was a wonder Pryde put up with him at all.

“I’m just several years older than you,” Hux responded, as if that were obvious. “It’s unexpected.”
“Well you look really good,” Kylo sent immediately, starting to get the feeling that Hux was connecting his age to his worth—and he was still very much in his prime.

Hux was feeling warm and a little embarrassed, taking a few more sips of the brandy for courage.
“I don’t see what you see, but thank you.”

Hux realized that he’d been smiling at the datapad, idly wondering if he owned anything in white.

“I thought you were too pretty to be a military officer when I first saw you,” Kylo admitted, gnawing at his lower lip.
Hux had already rejected Kylo’s words, so it felt rude to continue telling the knight he was wrong. Still...

“Do you really find me pretty?”

Kylo blushed, immediately feeling dumb.

“Do you prefer handsome? You’re very pretty, but I won’t say that if you don’t like it.”
“I don’t mind what word you use,” Hux offered quickly, finding that he didn’t want Kylo to stop. “I just don’t hear that very often.”

Kylo found that extremely hard to believe—he’d seen how some of the officers under Hux’s command gazed longingly after him.
"Then your husband's obviously doing a terrible job."

Kylo didn't consider if it was appropriate for him to be talking poorly about Hux's spouse, but even Han would wrap Leia up in his arms when things were bad, kissing her face and calling her his princess.
Pryde didn't seem to be the type to sweep Hux up in his arms and call him a beautiful and terrible force of nature--which was what the redhead deserved, if Kylo had anything to say about it.
"That's been the case for a good long while, I'm afraid."

Once Hux had stopped being "pretty" enough for Pryde, the man's affections dropped off almost completely. No longer telling Hux just how pretty and good he was--there was always something to be done better.
"Can you leave him?"

"Not unless he dies," Hux responded bitterly, sipping at his drink. The man was in his sixties and showed no signs of slowing, Hux would be equally as old before he was free. What would be the point then?
"I'm legally his wife, I can't make that sort of decision. If he decided he was done and wanted to remarry, he could, but I doubt he wants to give up the power he gets from having me under his thumb."
Phasma had helped him kill Brendol, but she didn't stand to gain anything from Pryde's death. Hux was trapped.

Kylo was coming to the conclusion that all Imperial rules for marriage were bad and outdated--Hux was clearly more capable than Pryde, yet here he was.
"Here's to hoping he has a heart attack," Kylo replied, pouting slightly. Hux was so pretty and clever and interesting--exactly what Kylo wanted, and he was married to a man who didn't even appreciate it. "You deserve better."
Hux felt something unfamiliar swelling in his chest, smiling softly at the datapad's screen--and he looked at the time.

He'd been sitting here talking with Kylo for -hours-, he'd only have a little time to sleep before he had to attempt to work with Pryde undermining him.
"It's kind of you to say so," Hux responded, ignoring the chrono for just a moment longer.

"I mean it. You deserve the galaxy." Kylo licked his lips, thinking of how dejected Hux had looked in the conference room. "I want to give it to you."
“Those are big words for an apprentice,” Hux replied after a long pause, uncertain how he should respond to such a declaration.

“I won’t always be an apprentice,” Kylo shot back, slightly sullen. Hux wasn’t responding to his flirting in the desired fashion.
“And I won’t always be a general.”

Kylo found that bit a little confusing—wasn’t the general already in charge of the First Order’s army? Unless Hux was vying for Snoke’s position, which would be rather dangerous talk.

“Won’t you?” Kylo dared ask.

“We won’t always be at war.”
Kylo tried not to consider the implications of the war being over—if the First Order claimed total victory over the galaxy, that would mean...

-“I love you, Ben. I always will.”-

His mother’s voice rang in his head, making that ugly conflict between light and dark rise up.
“What do you plan to do?” Kylo asked, doing his best to quash the feelings of anger and guilt roiling inside him.

“It’s late, I should turn in.”

Kylo scowled at the datapad—what was Hux hiding?
“I want to move into my new chambers next cycle,” Kylo replied, somewhat pouting.

“I can have your things transported by shuttle around 0900, if that suits you.”

“It does.

“Good. Report in when you arrive.”
Kylo smirked some at the screen—he didn’t need to report to Hux, he needed to report to Snoke. Hux undoubtedly knew that, but Kylo didn’t want to undermine him any more than he’d already been by his husband.

“Of course, general. I look forward to it.”
“Goodnight, Ren.”

“Sleep well, my general.”
At 0900 on the dot, a shuttle docked at the Finalizer from Starkiller Base with instructions to transport the belongings of one Kylo Ren. So one could imagine how badly the stormtroopers startled when Kylo himself disembarked the shuttle on Starkiller Base, his things in tow.
He didn’t have a personal ship, so it made sense to him to just jam himself in the cargo compartment and ride with his things. It wasn’t comfortable, but it did the job, Kylo stalking out of the docking bay so he could properly ogle Hux’s planet killer.
Kylo had seen the holoprojections of the plans, he’d helped Hux locate planets rich enough with kyber to be candidates, he’d seen almost all of the planning—but being here was something else entirely. The knight head for an exterior door, stepping out into a raging blizzard.
It had been a long time since Kylo had seen snow, remembering going with his mother to a rebellion base on Hoth, which had been terrible. It was oppressively cold on Hoth, but this cold was different. The planet Hux had used to make his weapon had once been lush and warm.
Kylo was in awe of Hux’s creation, heading back inside and demanding from a nearby officer directions to the command bridge. Directions given, Kylo made the trek across the base, looking for the general.
Hux and Pryde were on the command bridge, Pryde sitting back with a cigarra as Hux helped test some of the computer systems—it was tedious, boring work. Kylo was pleased to see him all the same, admiring the shape of Hux’s backside as he bent over a console.
“General Hux,” Kylo called out from a respectful distance—as if his boots stomping across the polished floors hadn’t announced his arrival. “I require your expertise.”

The vocoded voice sent a slight thrill through the general, righting himself and turning to greet the knight.
“Good of you to join us, Ren.”

Pryde glanced between the two of them, noting a slight change in Hux’s tone. It was something to consider.

Kylo solemnly nodded his helmet, taking a few steps closer to speak without booming across the bridge.

“I require a ship.”
Hux looked a bit confused by the request, tipping his head slightly.

“What manner of ship do you need?”

“A personal ship. Preferably a lightweight fighter so I can assist in the training of your pilots. Their formations need work.”
Hux’s eyebrows knit together in annoyance, resenting any implication that his training simulations were at all imperfect.

“You are free to use any of the TIE Fighters in hangar six for training exercises.”
Kylo’s hands went to fists at his sides, the leather creaking—Hux was making this difficult. He shook his head.

“I need a personalized cockpit with a stable interior. The flight helmet interferes with my use of the Force.”
Hux knew he was being played in some fashion—Kylo wore a helmet all the time and it didn’t seem to interrupt the man’s frequent destruction of First Order property.

Something about it didn’t add up.
Hux gave a heavy sigh, retrieving his datapad to run a few numbers—it really wasn’t in the budget. R&D had been squeezed dry by the Starkiller Base project, they didn’t have the assets to be prototyping new ships on a whim.

“Have you discussed this with the Supreme Leader?”
Kylo scowled under his mask, tossing a look at Pryde—he was just trying to get Hux alone for a minute, not get into an argument.

“I intend to,” Kylo stated flatly, which had Hux’s eyebrows furrowing again.
“Well, you can’t have anything until that happens. The budget is stretched very thin at the moment and I can’t afford to assign any engineers to a personal project without additional funding.”
Kylo hated hearing about the budget—it was always Hux’s first complaint whenever Kylo “accidentally” broke an expensive piece of equipment in a fit of fury.

“I would rather you oversaw the project yourself,” Kylo said quickly, realizing it may have come off too eager.
Hux outright scoffed. He did not have the time to be overseeing-

Well, now that he really thought about it, he -did- have time for an engineering project. Pryde ran him over on so many topics, he was mostly doing the dull tasks anyway.
“I’m meeting with engineering at 1300. You’re welcome to join us and explain your preferences. If your concept is feasible, we can take a credits estimate to the Supreme Leader.”

Hux sounded irritated by the request, but Kylo was pleased that his idea had inevitably worked.
Kylo inclined his helmet in agreement.

“Good. We’ll discuss this further at that time.” Kylo felt slightly awkward talking like this—it was more formal than he typically went for, but he thought Hux would find it... what? Sophisticated? He wasn’t sure what his angle was.
Regardless, Kylo nodded again, bidding Hux farewell with a quick “general” before heading off.

Pryde had only observed the interaction, but he caught the way Hux’s green eyes had flicked across the glossy surface of the mask, looking for something more in its unmoving surface.
“It seems odd that he would waste your time over something so beneath your rank,” Pryde finally remarked, taking a drag off the cigarra.

Hux bristled, turning back to the console he’d been working on, running a few diagnostics.
“The Supreme Leader considers Lord Ren and myself to be peers, so I appreciate him alerting me to future allocation of First Order resources,” Hux explained rather curtly, his lip curling unpleasantly.
Pryde felt the hostility under Hux’s ice cold tone, standing from his seat as he exhaled the vapor from the cigarra, sliding the implement into the folds of his uniform. One gloved hand came to rest at the small of Hux’s back, curved from how he stood over the console.
The redhead’s entire body went rigid at the touch, his jaw setting.

“You seem tense. Perhaps we should find you something more relaxing to do,” Pryde suggested, sliding his hand down to palm over Hux’s backside.

The general fantasized about breaking those fingers one by one.
“Sir, I can assure you that I’m more than capable-“

“This is why you’re aging yourself so quickly, Armitage.” Pryde lamented with a sigh. “You’re only promising yourself more wrinkles when you scowl all day. Your skin won’t bounce back anymore.”
Hux’s ears were ringing from how tightly he clenched his teeth, white knuckling the edges of the console.

“I’m only running stability tests, it’s not-“

“I wasn’t asking,” Pryde interrupted, grabbing Hux by the shoulder to turn him around.
Hux schooled his expression into something marginally less furious—but only just.

“Your attitude has left a lot to be desired lately, Armitage. Something is going to be done about it.”
Hux fumed, unable to make himself apologize to his husband when he’d done nothing wrong.

“The Supreme Leader has given me a very short timelin-“

This time, when Hux was interrupted, it was by the gloved back of Pryde’s hand.
Hux had been talking, so his teeth cut into the side of his cheek slightly, tasting blood as his head snapped to the side. The other bridge officers had quietly been working this entire time, keeping to themselves—but no one had ever dared lay hands on the general.
Eyes were turning to them, Hux swallowing thickly to clear the taste of copper from his tongue. His cheek was turning pink and swelling slightly, the skin still stinging from the strike of leather.

“I’ve spoken with the Supreme Leader about your timeline. I know what it is.”
Pryde took hold of Hux’s upper arm like he were a disobedient child, pulling him in the direction of the exit while scolding him openly.

“You may recall that he asked me to stay and oversee your pet project, which means that I tell you what the timeline is. Is that clear?”
Hux couldn’t swallow his fury enough to respond to Pryde’s scolding with the appropriate platitudes, his anger roiling under the surface as he was dragged toward their shared chambers.

Poison was far too merciful for Pryde. He deserved something worse.
Pryde continued admonishing his wife as they arrived, pushing Hux through the doors and locking them once inside. Hux anticipated a lecture, not the toe of Pryde’s boot striking him behind the knee, sending the redhead down to the floor.
Hux gasped sharply in pain, catching himself before making full contact with the floor, quickly moving to his feet—

Only for Pryde to kick him sharply in the stomach, sending him back down. Hux felt like he might be ill, clouds forming at the edges of his vision.
“Is this the only way to teach you?” Pryde demanded, repeatedly kicking at the man on the floor anywhere he could reach. “I thought your father was a useless man, but he was right about one thing-!”

Hux felt blood springing in his mouth—he might pass out.
When Hux had mostly stopped trying to squirm away and stand, Pryde rest his boot on the side of Hux’s head, applying gentle pressure.

“Apologize to me for being such an embarrassment as a wife, and as an officer of the First Order. The Supreme Leader will be hearing of this.”
No words came out.

Hux regained consciousness in the med bay some time later, his uniform traded out for a hospital gown. The surface injuries had been treated with bacta, but the internal ones needed supervision—a droid humming over his midsection.
It took some time for Hux to piece together what had just happened—he certainly hadn’t put himself in the med bay.

But he did remember very vivid nightmares about his father, which startled him to consciousness in the first place.
A medic quietly entered the room, nodding respectfully to the General before approaching.

“Is your pain being managed well, Sir? You woke rather suddenly.”

Hux’s jaw tensed, finding it was still sore from Pryde’s boot on his face.

“I’m fine.”
It was obvious to the medical staff that the general had been on the losing side of a fight, but no one had been immediately dismissed or sent for reconditioning. So there was only one possibility.

Pryde had asked to be alerted when Hux regained consciousness.
The medic excused themselves after ensuring that Hux was stable, leaving the redhead to stare off at nothing for a long time. Pryde hadn’t been especially kind to him over the past decade, but he very rarely went directly to violence. Even then, a backhand was usually enough.
Hux wondered absently what the catalyst could have been. The very moment Hux tried speaking for himself and ignoring his wifely lexicon, Pryde seemed ready to kill him.

Was the fact that he was alive an accident, or was this just Pryde making a point?
The question was answered sooner than Hux expected as Pryde stepped into the room, Hux’s heart monitor spiking and his whole body tensing—ouch.

“How was your nap, Armitage?” Pryde asked with an ugly smirk, stepping up to Hux’s bedside. “Are you feeling more respectful?”
For a moment, Hux felt like his heart might seize, Pryde’s grey-blue eyes looking at where the monitors and droids were connected to the wall. It would be so easy to disconnect him and finish him off, wouldn’t it?

Just like when he was a boy, he couldn’t afford to panic and cry.
“Yes, Sir.” Hux managed out, his eyes burning as he pointedly avoided looking at his husband.

“That’s a good boy,” Pryde said condescendingly, patting Hux’s cheek and making him gasp in pain. “Your engineering meeting went quite well. Snoke’s dog even has a ship.”
Hux’s heart sank down into his stomach—Kylo was pushy about his desires and outright obnoxious at times-

But he let Hux speak in complete sentences.

Hux realized he would have really liked to be there.
Sensing the way Hux deflated at that knowledge, Pryde figured his work was done.

“Do let me know when they release you from observation. I have a few tasks for you.” And with that, the allegiant general excused himself.
On the other end of the base, Kylo was working out his frustrations on a training droid, sending molten shrapnel flying with every strike of his lightsaber.

Why had Hux even invited him to the meeting if he wasn’t going to show up?
He’d stomped into the conference room—on time, even!—only for all of high command to stare at him like he’d sprouted a second head. Pryde had completely forgotten the brief exchange between Hux and Kylo, or he at least acted like it, leaving Kylo to fumble through an explanation.
Pryde ran the meeting, as if he had any business doing so, saying that the general was otherwise occupied and couldn’t make it.

Kylo didn’t get it, which only made him angrier, the training droid beeping weakly as it fell to pieces under the lightsaber’s punishment.
Did Hux like him or not? Kylo really thought their conversation last night had been a good one, but then he effectively got stood up.

Maybe that’s what he got for lusting after a married man.
Kylo sulked through the rest of his training, savaging at another droid when a piece of searing metal nicked his exposed shoulder. He swore aloud, reaching to examine the wound and finding that he was going to need bacta and a bandage—what a pain.
He supposed he could stop by the med bay before getting dinner, not that he really liked unmasking himself in front of anyone—he knew he was too expressive to be subtle without the mask.
Kylo stalked to the med bay in full garb, explaining his injury to the medic on duty. He refused to remove anything until the medic returned with the correct supplies, begrudgingly pulling off his mask, cowl, and top.
Considering Kylo’s preferred style of berserker fighting, it was really surprising that he didn’t have more scars. Small training injuries here and there, but nothing really substantial. The current wound being treated on his shoulder would most likely leave a small mark.
As he sat there letting the medic treat the partially cauterized wound, he heard another medic talking to someone from a different examination room.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t release you from observation until your condition is more stable.”
Hux huffed in frustration, getting stir-crazy after the first hour of observation.

“I at least need access to a console,” Hux protested, weaker than usual but no less exasperated for it.

The medic shuffled on their feet. “I have to advise against sitting up or standing, sir.”
Instantly confused, Kylo shoved the medic back and away from him with a sweep of his arm, standing and heading down the hall towards the voices.
Despite the medical intervention, Hux was visibly battered, his already pale face turned sallow, the suggestion of dried blood in the chapped creases of his lips. And yet he still argued with the medic about how he could work while on bedrest—he was allowed a datapad.
But of course, Hux was immediately distracted by the arrival of a half naked man he’d never seen before in his life. Based on the physique, Hux thought it likely he was a stormtrooper, but this portion of the med bay was reserved for high command.
“...I’d wondered why you missed our meeting,” Kylo rambled out, trying to maintain some kind of poise while Hux was squinting at him. “The allegiant general wasn’t especially helpful.”

The heavy footsteps had been familiar, as was the cadence of the voice—Hux was staring.
All at once, Kylo realized that Hux was staring at him because he’d never seen Kylo without his full ensemble, the knight’s speckled skin flushing slightly pink in embarrassment.

“...Ren?” Hux confirmed, trying to process this new information.
Not only was Kylo as young as Pryde suggested, he was human, and a very handsome human at that.

But Hux instantly understood the necessity of the mask to maintain Kylo’s dark and mysterious persona—a rainbow of expressions shifting across the knight’s face as Hux realized.
“It was not my intention to miss our appointment,” Hux finally managed, trying to stop fixating on the way Kylo’s bare chest rose and fell with his breathing. “I was... unable to attend.”
The medic excused themselves, making space at Hux’s bedside for Kylo to approach, appraising the damage. The man’s dark eyes dragged over the slim lines of Hux’s body, bruises splotching the skin.

“...What happened?” Kylo asked, the calm in his voice belying his confused anger.
Hux felt immediate shame as Kylo approached, examining the damage. His injuries were only proof of his failure to serve his husband the way the First Order required, his lips pressing together at the question.

“I wrongly assumed that my military rank carried any weight.”
Kylo’s dark brows furrowed together, a shadow cast over his expression.

“...Pryde did this?”

Kylo forced calm into his voice, masking pure fury with cold anger. Hux immediately heard the change, slightly confused.

“I... Yes. He did.”
Kylo set his jaw in anger, seeing that one of Hux’s cheeks was pinker than the other, that the bruises were shaped like the toe of an officer’s boot.

“Has he done this before?” Kylo asked, moving to the console at Hux’s bedside, attempting to make sense of the diagnostics.
“Not like this,” Hux admitted, not feeling it necessary to tell Kylo that one of his incisors was false because of Pryde.

Kylo was scowling at the screen, seeing something about internal hemorrhaging and contusions—which sounded bad, even if he couldn’t figure out what it was.
“So he has,” Kylo confirmed, looking from the console back to Hux, the earnestness in Kylo’s eyes somewhat startling.

Hux was having more trouble than usual talking to Kylo, unable to consolidate the masked man with the flawless specimen of masculinity currently watching him.
Hux usually found it so easy to look upon the mask with disdain, but he couldn’t do the same with those expressive dark eyes, his heart racing some as Kylo moved around the bed to examine the droid.
Every single motion had an accompanying stretch of muscle, every single muscle group beautifully defined as Kylo reached to pull the droid closer. Hux felt his face growing warmer by the moment, his heart skipping slightly when Kylo looked back up at him.
Kylo may not be versed in medical science, but he did know about droids and mechanics—this kind of droid was reserved for severe internal damage, usually involving organs. He wanted to be angry for Hux, but when he looked up, Hux was -blushing-.
Kylo felt himself blushing right back, clearing his throat and hurriedly looking away.

“He should be charged with treason. You’re the leader of the First Order’s armies.”

Hux didn’t know why he was disappointed that Kylo looked away, but he was.
“We discussed why I can’t do that,” Hux reminded him gently, his voice barely holding any power—the injuries were taking a lot out of him.

Kylo scoffed, “I’ll space him for you.”

“And you think Leader Snoke wouldn’t be cross about that?”
Not giving a bantha’s ass what Snoke thought was on the tip of Kylo’s tongue, but knew Hux was right. Snoke had personally asked Pryde to assist on the Starkiller Base project, there was probably a reason.

Frustrated, Kylo changed tactics.

“I’d like to reschedule our meeting.”
Hux’s red eyebrows lifted some in surprise, his head tipping slightly.

“Why is that?”

“I wasn’t satisfied with the outcome,” Kylo explained, hoping he sounded genuine. “I’d prefer your input, when you have the time.”
Hux shrugged some where he sat, though it sent a wave of soreness through his body.

“I have time now,” Hux pointed out, picking up his datapad and navigating to his blueprints, pulling up a basic TIE Fighter. “What was it you wanted?”
Kylo hadn’t expected Hux’s involvement to be so... immediate. Still, he moved to Hux’s bedside, sitting on the edge of the bed so he could look at the blueprints.

They were close like this, Kylo able to feel the warmth radiating off of Hux’s body.
Over the course of the next week, Kylo made time to go see Hux in the med bay. Once the prototype blueprints were finished, Hux sent them off to manufacturing for testing. Even then, Kylo still came by, just to make sure Hux was doing alright.

Until one day Hux wasn’t there.
If he wasn’t in the med bay, that could only mean one thing, Kylo heading for the command bridge.

Pryde had been blessedly absent while Hux was recovering, but he was on the bridge now, talking over Hux as he gesticulated through a cloud of cigarra vapor.
Hux still had yellowing bruises here and there, but the medical staff had done their jobs well enough that Hux could resume normal activity.

Unfortunately for Hux, that also meant he was medically well enough to perform wifely duties for the man currently talking over him.
Kylo seethed under the mask, stomping up to them and immediately engaging Hux in conversation while ignoring Pryde.

“General Hux,” Kylo called out, pointedly placing his large body between the two of them. “My prototype has arrived and I require your presence.”
Pryde scoffed, “he has better things to do than look at your prototype.”

Kylo ignored the complaint, keeping all of his attention on Hux as if Pryde wasn’t even there. The allegiant general became visibly annoyed, which only fed a spiteful little thing inside of Hux.
“You seem to have everything well in hand here, Sir.” Hux pointed out, flashing a small smile at Kylo before leading the way to the doors. “Show me what issues you’re having, Ren.”

Pryde glared after the two of them as they seemed to run from the room like they had a secret.
Kylo didn’t expect to get this far, so he was figuring out what he could complain about when they arrived in the test hangar. The prototype TIE Silencer looked absolutely sinister, something Kylo was eager to test against the Resistance.
Hux followed Kylo to the ship, the knight opening the hatch and climbing into the cockpit—which had been expanded to accommodate Kylo’s large frame and his desire for a stable interior. So much so, that there was room for Hux to stand behind Kylo’s seat if he so chose.
“It only happens during flight,” Kylo lied, gesturing for Hux to join him inside.

Immediately, Hux seemed a bit uncertain, slightly shifting his feet.

“There aren’t enough restraints. If something goes wrong, I’ll go flying.”
Kylo swallowed thickly, working up the nerve as he watched the nervous way Hux stood outside.

“Sit with me.”

For the last week, Kylo had been visiting him every day, talking with him, listening to him, and being far kinder than his husband had ever been.
And now he offered out a gloved hand, asking Hux to sit in his lap as he tested the ship they designed together. The redhead couldn’t help his blushing, especially not as he took Kylo’s offered hand, stepping up into the cockpit.
The hatch hissed closed behind Hux, shrouding the two of them in darkness, broken only by the light through the transparisteel and the glowing console. Kylo reached up, hitting the catches on his mask and pulling it off, shaking his head to scatter his long hair.
Hux felt his heart racing as Kylo scooted back in his seat, patting his muscular thighs. Hux was apparently too heavy to sit in Pryde’s lap anymore, so he was a bit nervous when he moved to sit across Kylo’s thighs, facing to the side.
“Comfortable?” Kylo confirmed, doing everything in his power not to get an erection from the idea of Hux in his lap.

The redhead was visibly blushing, even in the low light.

“If I’m too heavy, I can move.”

“What? You don’t weigh anything,” Kylo insisted, bouncing his legs.
Hux gasped softly as he was bounced so easily, blushing darker and avoiding Kylo’s eyes—he shouldn’t have agreed to this. This was too dangerous.

Sensing Hux’s conflict, Kylo powered up the ship, the twin ion engines roaring to life.

“Ready?”
“Um- I suppose,” Hux fumbled out, shifting so that Kylo’s arms could reach around him for the controls. One muscular forearm was settled against Hux’s lower back, making the redhead’s heart race.

Without waiting for further confirmation, Kylo shot out of the hangar.
As soon as the ship started moving, Hux’s arms flew around Kylo’s shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. Kylo wondered if Hux had ever been in a light fighter, or if he’d only been on slow moving star destroyers his whole life. Testing this theory, Kylo pushed the throttle.
Hux gasped aloud as they moved faster, his entire body tensing as Kylo tested the maneuverability of the Silencer.

And maybe he really liked how Hux was almost hiding his face in Kylo’s hair, feeling warm breath against the side of his face.
Kylo liked how Hux felt almost curled up in his lap, heading into an asteroid field and testing the cannons. Hux’s lips just barely brushed his jaw, sending a wave of desire crashing over Kylo, slightly tipping his head as if to invite more.
A stray piece of asteroid smacked against the external shielding, making Hux startle from where he sat. Kylo chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Not used to light fighters, general?”
“I’m more familiar with large ships,” Hux admitted, pulling back once he realized how tightly he was clinging to the other man. “My experience with smaller ships is mostly theoretical.”
Kylo navigated out of the asteroid field, clicking on the autopilot so he could devote his attention to Hux, dark eyes taking in how lovely Hux looked cast in the low light of the control console.

“That doesn’t have to be the case. You’re in a light fighter now, right?”
Hux scoffed some, clearly more comfortable now that they were at a cruising speed.

“This hardly counts—I’m just a passenger.”

“I can teach you,” Kylo offered, realizing how close Hux was when the man turned to look at him.
“I’d rather not learn like this.”

“Not everything has to be a simulation,” Kylo teased, making Hux huff.

“I don’t necessarily want to learn on a prototype!”

Kylo thought it was cute how Hux looked when he was flustered, smirking at him.
“You’re pretty,” Kylo said suddenly, unable to hold it in when the glow of the console caught Hux’s green eyes like that.

Hux startled some, blushing and tripping over his words.

“W-What? I haven’t done anything. You’re absolutely ridiculous-“
Kylo had fooled around enough to know what signals were good ones, reaching to cup the back of Hux’s neck in a gloved hand, rubbing his thumb along the side of Hux’s neck.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Kylo purred, watching Hux with half-lidded eyes.
Hux was visibly distraught by the declaration, unsure what he’d done to make himself desirable—failing to understand that he didn’t have to be a wife of the Empire to be attractive. Kylo didn’t care that they argued and disagreed, he pursued Hux anyway.
Any further complaints died on Hux’s tongue as Kylo slowly pressed their lips together, more gentle and tender than Hux’s husband had ever been. Hux’s gloved hands slowly moved to cup Kylo’s jaw, tipping his head to press into the kiss.
Eons could have passed as they kissed, Hux completely unaware of the world around them as he enjoyed the embrace of another man. Kylo’s arms were warm and strong as they wrapped around him, holding Hux gently against him, like he were a precious gift.
No one had ever kissed Hux with such ardor—not even when he was young and desirable by Pryde’s standards. Kylo was eager and needy, kneading at Hux’s uniform as if he couldn’t ever get close enough, teasing his tongue against Hux’s lips.
Hux didn’t know how much time passed, falling into bliss with Kylo, their tongues sliding together as the kiss became deeper and more passionate. Kylo couldn’t help that he was getting hard, a bump rising under one of Hux’s thighs.
Hux finally forced himself to pull away, panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting their lips.

“O-Oh-“ Hux realized his error, visibly embarrassed as he tried to squirm away, only for Kylo to hold him in place.
“Hux-“ Kylo breathed, gazing at the other man with lust in his eyes. There was no need to finish his thought, as the bulge under Hux’s thigh said enough.

“I shouldn’t-“ Hux insisted, still pulling back.

“Do you want to?” Kylo pressed, desperate.
“What I want isn’t important,” Hux deflected, avoiding Kylo’s needy gaze.

“Yes it is,” Kylo insisted. “He might not care, but I do. I want you to like this.”

Hux nearly whined, his desire to be a good member of the First Order going at odds with his need to feel desired.
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