Chapter Text
The morning of Ren’s medical release starts off beautifully when General Fucking Organa herself follows my usual interrogator into the room. I swear the temperature of the room drops substantially. I have to fight shivers at the look she gives me. Never before have I faced someone regarding me so coldly, and that includes not living up to my dear father’s high expectations. There were always rumours in the First Order that Organa was a powerful Force user in her own right -- she would almost have to be, given Ren -- but meeting her in the flesh leaves no doubt in my mind. She is absolutely where Ren gets all his power from, not his uncle or his grandfather.
Anka takes her place by the door, looking very pleased to be here.
“Alright, let’s go over what you’ve already told us,” my usual interrogator says, opening his notes on his datapad.
And go over it we do. Organa’s cold gaze on me the entire time is incredibly stressful, but, much to my amazement, I don’t slip up over anything, not even the bits about mine and Ren’s relationship. I tell them precisely what I’ve told them before, as far as I can recall, no more and no less. After running through everything yet again, my interrogator seems reasonably satisfied. Organa, less so.
I’ve never seen brown eyes so icey.
She leans in slightly, fingers steepled in front of her, and simply observes me for a moment. The cold sweat I’ve been fighting this entire time prickles at the base of my spine. The man at her side sits there serenely. Anka shoots me a grin.
For a moment, I have a horrible feeling she’s going to probe my mind like Ren does when he “interrogates” someone.
Then she starts with her own line of questioning.
I’m still shaken, maybe worse than if she had probed my mind. She manages to pull more information from me than I intend to give out. Details from every First Order plan I’ve ever been privy too come pouring out of my mouth unbidden and I know that this is the true power of the Force.
And then she asks me about Ren and it’s worse because my lies keep slipping away from my tongue. I manage to hold on, but only just -- after all, most of what I’ve told them has been the truth, or some form of it, so there’s only so much I have to force through my teeth. She runs me through how we met, what sparked the argument that made me kiss him, what I like about him, all of it.
I thank every deity I can think of that I had the foresight to date the start of our relationship as very recently.
“You don’t love him,” Organa says after a moment of consideration.
“Of course not,” I balk, “I’m not even sure if I like him, but I imagine, under the right circumstances, I could love him. Either way, Snoke wants me dead.”
That seems to satisfy her more than anything else I’ve told her today.
***
My blank stupor is broken by the door opening. Ren is gestured in by one of a dozen heavily armed guards and the door is swiftly shut behind him.
“Well,” he says, looking around. I’m sure I can guess at what he’s thinking -- close, intimate quarters shared with a man he mostly raged at, how wonderful. What a great plan that I, a master strategist, have come up with.
I stand, smooth out the front of my shirt, and clear my throat before asking, “Would you like to join me in the shower?”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head for a long moment. At first I think he’s going to say no, but he surprises me by saying, “Sure,” so casually even I am almost fooled into thinking we’ve done this before.
I have a plan, I remind myself. This is a valuable, stealthy way of sharing intelligence without having my mind probed by Ren and his… indelicate ways. I’ll be able to relay to Ren the details of what I’ve done so he knows what to say should he be questioned and we’ll further cement our status as in a relationship all in one fell swoop. Two birds, one stone.
The fact that we’ll both be naked is besides the point.
Ren follows me to the refresher far closer than I anticipated. He goes so far as to place his hand on the back of my waist as I step through the doorway and as much as I try not too, I still flinch. Ren, the asshole, huffs a quiet laugh. When I turn to face him in the small room, he doesn’t take his hand away. It slides around my body as I move and then he’s in my space, chest to chest with me, his face tilted down expectantly. I just stare at him, eyes narrowed in defiance.
“Are you camera shy, General?” he asks, mocking me. I frown and he swoops down to peck me on the lips before finally stepping away.
He’s wearing simple grey scrubs, same as the last time I saw him, instead of his usual multi layered ghastly affair. It takes him no time at all to strip down. He’s not even wearing underwear under the scrubs.
There’s a huge knot of scar tissue from the Wookie’s blaster on his side, still angry pink like the lightsaber slash across his face, and an assortment of lighter, older scars crisscrossing his torso and more of those freckles. He stands there unashamed as I fail at not staring. He is quite attractive.
“Your turn,” he says after I’ve had a good long look at him. My cheeks heat up. At least he sounds amused. I am really not. How am I embarrassed? I knew this was going to happen.
I’m a little angrier than I should be when I peel away my clothing, hesitating just slightly before shucking my underwear. When I’m done, I stand with my hands spread, held out from my sides just enough to say there. Ren looks like he’s about to rupture an organ with how hard he’s trying not to laugh.
“Just get in the stall, idiot,” I snap, face hot. He does laugh at that, a full blown belly laugh, head thrown back. I glare at him as he steps by me, my lips pinched in a scowl. It is entirely unfair how he has dimples when he smiles like that .
Ren is kind enough to stand in the corner of the little shower stall, giving me plenty of room to step in with him and his tremendous bulk. I do, closing the door tightly after me, and turn on the water. Once it’s spraying over us, I reach up and wrap my arms around Ren’s neck, pulling him towards me so I can tuck my face against his.
“I hate you,” I hiss in his ear once he’s close enough to do so. Ren laughs again. I can feel it vibrate in my chest and it is awful. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
I can hear the mirth in Ren’s voice when he says, “I sincerely doubt it was your idea to retrieve me before leaving Starkiller, General.”
I pause. This is true. It was at the request of the Supreme Leader that I scurried off to find Ren before Starkiller imploded. The blame can be set fully on him.
Still, I am at least partly at fault. I could have defied orders and fled Starkiller with the rest of my officers. It’s not like I would have had a very good chance of surviving Snoke’s ire either way.
Somehow, somehow, being captured by the Resistance and the stupid plan I came up with is working out the best out of all scenarios I can think of. It’s fucking baffling. I sigh.
Might as well do what I dragged Ren in here for.
“As I’m sure you have figured out, I’ve told the Resistance that we’re in a relationship. I gave us up willingly after they captured our ship leaving Starkiller under the premise that we were not returning to Snoke because you had been ordered to kill me because of your attachments.”
Ren shivers briefly. I assume it’s because of how I’m breathing on the wet, sensitive skin just below his ear. Force knows it tickled when he spoke in mine.
“What in the ‘verse possessed you to come up with this lie?”
I shrug. “It’s working. We’re alive.”
“I’d rather be dead.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Does he always have to be so dramatic?
“Well too bad. We’re here now so we might as well make the best of our situation.”
“You’ve never met my mother.”
“Ah. Actually, I have.”
Ren pulls away just enough to stare disbelievingly at me. I smirk, even if my meeting with General Organa did not go quite as well as I would have hoped. He sighs and tucks his face back next to mine.
“Alright, what are the details of our relationship, dear.”
I recap the mercifully short list of things I’ve told the Resistance about my relationship with Ren. Much to my surprise, he doesn’t complain about a single thing; he just nods in appropriate places and seems to be memorizing the information.
“There’s something you’re going to have to tell me if you want this to work,” he says once I’m done.
“And what’s that?”
I can feel his cheek move as he grins, the asshole. “Your given name, General.”
I grimace. Of course I knew it was inevitable. He can’t keep calling me “Hux” or “General” without arousing suspicion. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Armitage,” I tell him briskly.
He snorts, “What the fuck kind of name is that?”
“Fuck you, Ky-lo.”
Ren just laughs louder, somehow managing to sound fond. I continue to be amazed at his acting skills.
***
Sleeping poses a problem. It’s not that the bed isn’t big enough; it is, for an actual couple. One that doesn’t involve Ren’s impossibly wide shoulders, that is. Fitting both of us on the bed without anything touching is going to be impossible.
Ren has stripped off his shirt and is half under the covers on the side closest to the wall. He’s trying to convince me to take off my clothes.
“You don’t have to be shy, General,” he says, I’m sure trying for soothing and only managing amused. I can’t help bristling like a cat.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, irritated at how good his acting is, irritated at him using my rank as a pet name, irritated because I’m not that anymore; not a General, just a defector and a prisoner of war.
“Hux -- Armitage.” He sounds placating and soft and it puts me on edge. I yank my shirt off, flushed and frustrated. My trousers soon follow. I’d give anything for a set of pyjamas. I’d give anything to be simply locked in a cell far, far away from this man.
Begrudgingly, I lay down next to Ren and pull the covers up over my chest. They’re already warm from the heat he radiates. Great. At least I won’t be cold during this misadventure.
“You know, whoever’s watching the holo feed is probably paying more attention to whatever they’re watching on another screen,” Ren tells me, “Unless we create a ruckus, we’re not interesting.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask flatly. Watching things other than what they were supposed to is strictly forbidden in the First Order, and I enforced that rule.
Ren shrugs. “I grew up here. I know most of the older Resistance members. They’d rather watch a grav-ball game than prisoners sitting around doing nothing. We’re probably being listened to as well, but at least no one’s paying attention to your bare, pasty ass.”
“What a relief,” I deadpan. Ren nudges me with one fist.
“I’m trying to comfort you, you asshole.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”
“Fuck you too, at least I’m trying.”
I hear: At least I’m trying to be believable, and wince. Ren is doing a far superior job of being in this supposed relationship. I’m going to fuck this up. I’m going to fuck it up, not him, and it was my stupid idea in the first place.
Fuck.
***
Sleeping definitely poses a problem. Ren and I lie in silence next to each other for eons before either of us drift off. I don’t sleep well to begin with and sleeping next to someone apparently only serves to make that little fact about me so much worse.
And then, and then, seemingly as soon as I’ve properly fallen asleep, I wake up because fucking Ren has stolen all the covers and I’m left to the mercy of the cool room.
Ren has his back to me, his bare spine showing under the very edge of the blanket as he practically spoons the body of it. I grab hold of the blanket and yank, hard, ripping it from him and cocooning myself in it in one smooth motion.
“The fuck, Hux,” Ren says blearily. I say nothing, victorious in my blanket cocoon.
My skin raises in goose pimples and that’s all the warning I get before Ren pulls on the blanket in turn. I’m flipped a full one-eighty, the wind knocked out of me.
“You thief,” I gasp, tugging on the blanket again. Ren’s hold doesn’t falter.
“You stole it from me!”
“You stole it first! Give it back!”
Ren lets his grip slacken just enough for my next tug to send me sprawling off the edge of the bed.
“Fuck!”
Ren sounds sulky when he says, “Asshole.”
“You are such a child!” I snap from the floor, elbows and tailbone sore, “If we can’t manage something as simple as sharing a bed, how are we going make this work?”
“You’re the one who stole the blanket,” Ren grumbles, definitely sulking.
“You stole it first!”
“Well, you didn’t have to yank it away from me!”
“How else was I supposed to get it away from you?”
“You could have just asked.”
I glare at Ren and he glares right back. We have reached a stalemate and it’s over something as stupid as a fucking blanket. Tomorrow, I vow, I will trade First Order secrets for a blanket of my own.
“Fine, you prick, keep the damn blanket,” I snap, laying out as comfortably as I can on the floor, back to the bed, and to Ren.
There’s a long pause before Ren sighs, “Fine, you asshole, get up here before you bruise.”
I spitefully do not move.
“Hux -- Armitage. You’re better than this, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sulking like a child is what you do.”
“Takes one to know one, asshole.”
“Real mature.”
“Says the man currently laying on the floor because he doesn’t want to share a blanket.”
I roll over just enough to glare at him over my shoulder.
He sighs again. “Just get up here, okay? I’ll share the stupid blanket.”
There’s a long pause before he goes, in a small voice, “Please?”
Fuck, now I have to. Begrudgingly, I drag myself up. Curse Ren and curse his damned ability to play out this farce better than I could ever hope to.
Once I’m on the bed again, Ren spreads out the blanket over me.
And then he spreads out over me, arm thrown across my stomach and leg overlapping my own.
It’s not comfortable at all.
“What’s with that face?” he asks, softly due to proximity.
“What face?”
He props himself up on one elbow to squint at me in the dark, big hand splayed on my chest. “The one you’re making.”
I pinch my lips together, absolutely not making a face. Instead of answering him, I roll over, away from him, onto my side. He follows, keeping his chest pressed against me and his arm wrapped around my stomach. His stupid leg falls away though, so I consider the action at least a partial success.
Except now Ren’s nose is against the back of my neck and every exhale tickles. On the third one, I jerk away. I don’t get far; Ren’s arm around me keeps me close. He groans wordlessly, frustrated, and I snap, “Your breathing tickles.”
“Well, I can’t exactly stop, so shut up and deal,” he snaps back.
“It’s going to keep me awake, so move.”
Ren scoffs, “What, and let you take all the blanket again?”
“I wasn’t the one who took it all in the first place!”
He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “This again,” before saying, “You’re such an asshole.”
I wiggle around in a completely undignified manner until I’m facing Ren, our noses almost brushing with how close we are.
“I’m the asshole? Excuse me, but who saved your life?”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not also an asshole,” Ren says shortly, his irritation obvious.
“Yeah, well, you’re insufferable,” I grouse back, entirely done with this whole conversation.
Ren goes to argue, or maybe call me an asshole again, so I close the distance between us and just kiss him. It is beautifully effective in shutting him up. He freezes momentarily then positively melts.
Kissing Ren is nice, so I do it again, pressing my lips against his harder this time. He brings one of his big hands up to rest on my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek and fingers curling around the back of my neck. Wickedly, I take things a step further, opening my mouth to suck on one of his lips. He mimics me, his lips parting, and it’s so easy to probe his mouth with my tongue. He groans as I lick his teeth, a full bodied, impossibly arousing noise. I have to pull back before Ren’s responsiveness causes… issues.
Ren is flushed pink and nearly cross eyed, and I smirk with my success in getting the last word. I roll over so I don’t kiss him again so I don’t have to deal with him breathing on my face.
“You’re still an asshole,” Ren mumbles, but he tucks a corner of the blanket between his face and my neck.
***
I wake up very warm and with a very tenacious erection jabbing me in the tailbone. It’s a novel experience -- usually, on the rare occasion I involve myself with someone, I kick them out after the deed is done. I’m tempted to grind back against Ren, to startle him awake and hear more of his delicious groaning, but I am not sure I want to cross that line. Kissing is one thing -- it’s to show the Resistance that we are, in fact, involved -- but actually having sex is unwarranted, in my opinion. No one needs to see the awkward fumblings of a touched starved wannabe Sith, myself included.
Still, I shift and Ren mumbles something into the back of my neck. It doesn’t sound like words
“Good morning to you too, Ren,” I say shortly, “You’re stabbing me in the back.”
His hips twitch forward -- unconsciously I hope -- and he replies, “Do something about it then.”
Not unconsciously, apparently. I scowl at his words, my own embarrassed flush, and the stirrings deep in my gut.
“Do you really want me to jerk you off in front of the entire Resistance?” I ask.
He pinwheels back, smacking one elbow against the wall in his haste to get away. That is not at all the response I was expecting.
I roll over to look at him, preparing to say something biting and sarcastic. The words die on my tongue as I take in how red he’s turned, my eyebrows raising in surprise. He’s flushed from mid chest all the way to his hairline.
“That -- that's not what I meant,” he stammers. He's completely avoiding eye contact. I’ve never seen a grown man more awkward and it is the funniest thing I have ever seen.
Then things click into place and I can't help but grin wickedly.
“Have you never had sex before?” I ask, my voice pitched low to hopefully keep our Resistance watchdogs from listening in. Ren gives me no answer, looking mortified. He hasn’t. Kylo Ren is a virgin. I laugh and he gives me a sour look.
“Asshole,” he grouses. I can’t take offense because he's still blushing like a schoolgirl, an innocent virgin.
I feel like I should be surprised, but I'm really not. While Ren is attractive and apparently no less virile than a normal man, I’ve always heard that Jedi eschew attachments and Snoke surely kept Ren too busy with training for him to attend to base needs. Then, of course, he was with me overseeing Starkiller, or out galavanting through space on his quest to find his uncle, and I doubt he would proposition Stormtroopers or any of my officers.
The time for me to reply and soothe his ruffled feathers is quickly passing though I have no idea how to respond with anything but laughter. He does look like he's about to call me an asshole again, so I simply kiss him.
“I don't mind,” I tell him, just in case the Resistance is paying attention, still so close our lips brush as I speak, “I thought that might be the case.”
“You're still an asshole,” he says shortly. I just kiss him again.
***
There's a long stretch of time where we do precisely nothing. I hesitate to divvy it up into days since there's no way for me to tell the time but for my own internal clock. There doesn't seem to be any set schedule for when they bring us our meals -- they bring us meals shortly after we wake up, then again eons later, and then again even later on. Time stretches like taffy with nothing to structure my days. Even interrogation would be a welcome reprieve. At least it would be something to do.
Ren passes the time by making the chairs levitate.
Eventually he progresses from simply levitating the chairs to taking them apart with his mind, screw by screw.
“Stop that,” I scold. Everything clatters to the ground. The chair, which had been holding its shape under the power of the Force, falls apart with a loud clatter. I roll my eyes. “Thank you so much for ruining one of the only things in this room.”
“I can put it back together,” he tells me, petulant like a child.
“Then do so.”
It takes him a hilariously long time. He has to hunt for screws that have scattered to the far corners of the room and none of the chair’s pieces fit together right on his first go. Of course, he's doing all this with the Force, like he's showing off, instead of just puzzling it together with his hands like a normal sentient being. It's something to do, at least.
It's also very amusing.
Once the chair is in one piece again I tell him, “That's your chair now. If it breaks apart thanks to your fussing, it's not going to be under me.”
Ren just scowls at me and throws himself bodily into the chair.
***
I would have thought that Ren would spend the empty hours we’re left in limbo meditating, but he doesn't.
He's gone back to levitating the chairs, sitting cross legged on the floor, staring at them like they're the most interesting thing in the universe.
Maybe he is meditating. He's been sitting there doing nothing but watching the bobbing chairs for ages. Maybe the chairs are acting like some sort of focal point. What do I know of Force users and their strange practices? They're nothing if not mysterious.
While Ren is seemingly entertained, I am most definitely not. I’ve been lying on the bed, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, for a very long time now. We sleep, we eat, we stare off into space. I estimate it's been three or four days of nothing. It's torture. I would absolutely give up First Order secrets for something, anything, to do.
I'm jolted from my stupor by one of the chairs slamming into the wall. It's metal so it doesn't do much besides bounce, though I'm still glad to see that it's the chair I’ve designated as Ren’s.
I'm less pleased to see the other chair following suit, and then the table.
“ do you think you're doing?” I hiss, “Why the ever loving fuck are you suddenly so hell bent on destroying all we have?”
“I'm bored,” he snaps, then he raises his voice to a roar. “Give us something to do!”
“Shut up and right the stupid table. A tantrum isn't going to get you anywhere.”
“It might,” he says, believing it.
“No, it won't. These aren't civilians you can intimidate into doing your bidding. They are a formidable military organization familiar with Force users. They aren't afraid of you, Kylo. All you're doing by throwing a tantrum is breaking our furniture and irritating me, so stop.”
Ren doesn't reply. His shoulders droop slightly, just enough to tell me that he's sulking. I sigh.
There's just enough room between his back and the bed for me to squeeze in, legs bracketing his. I wrap my arms around his middle and rest my cheek against the back of his shoulder. This sort of thing does not come naturally to me. It's awkward and uncomfortable. The floor is hard, the frame of the bed digs into my spine. It's made slightly less awful when Ren’s hands come up to cover my own, silently telling me that I have made a good choice in giving him physical affection. If the Resistance is watching, and there's no doubt in my mind that they are after Ren’s tantrum, they’ll only see me comforting my partner. I shift just enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, my face tilted in towards his ear.
“If you want something to do, you’ll have to trade Snoke’s secrets,” I tell him, getting a mouthful of hair for my trouble.
Ren squeezes my wrists gently, an acknowledgement, then says,”I know.”
“I'm sure I could come up with something to entertain us if you're so bored.”
My words elicit precisely the response I want from Ren. He shivers deliciously. I can even see his ear turn red where it pokes out from his hair. I may not want to actually have sex with Ren, but teasing him is most definitely a new favourite pastime. He’s a virgin and it's so easy to fluster him. Most important, though, is that my teasing helps sell my lie.
I'm just glad that Ren is so amicable to this whole situation. It is so much easier with at least one of us finding it tolerable.
I kiss his neck, relishing the way he gasps.
“Right the furniture and meet me in the shower,” I tell him, patting his stomach before I detangle myself from him and stand. I don't look back but I'm barely at the doorway to the refresher before the scrape of metal against the floor tells me Ren is doing as I told him. I'm not even naked before he's behind me. I catch sight of him in the mirror stripping off his shirt and I can't help but smirk at how eager he is. I’m sure most of it is just him putting on a show for the Resistance, but it's still amusing.
Just like our last shower together, as soon as we're both in the stall, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close enough for me to speak softly into his ear.
“In here we can give the illusion of our… interaction without having eyes on us.”
“Very smart, General,” he says, “There's a problem with your plan though.”
“And what's that?”
“They can still hear us.”
I frown. “So?”
“You may be able to fake it, but I can’t. I don't know how.”
“Ah.” That is a problem. At least Ren sounds embarrassed about it.
There's a long pause while I think of what we should do. Then Ren breaks it by saying, “We could… actually do things.”
I pull away enough to glare at him before pressing my face back against his to hiss in his ear, “I'm not fucking you for the Resistance’s benefit.”
“It is the most straightforward solution though.”
“Yes, it is, but to further my stupid plan is a stupid reason to have sex for the first time. I have morals, Ren.”
He laughs, then murmurs, “Do you though?”
“You're an asshole!” I say, slapping his shoulder, as though he didn't also startle a laugh out of me. I feel him grin against my jaw. I kiss his cheek on autopilot, shocking myself with how easy the action is.
“We could kiss,” he says, placating, “Enough to be authentic to the Resistance’s ears without compromising your morals.”
I hum, thinking. That could be acceptable. Kissing Ren is nice and he’s already proven that he’ll make the appropriate noises. I nod, saying, “That should be fine.”
Ren wastes no time, pressing his lips against my neck, over my jaw, my cheek, until he finally reaches my mouth. His tongue immediately probes my lips, begging for me to part them. I do, and he licks into my mouth. He's clumsy at it, obviously new to this sort of thing. I find it almost endearing. It is quite a heady thing to know I'm his first partner.
I take control of the kiss, pushing back against Ren. He groans, his hands squeezing my hips, and submits. I suck on his lip and he moans. I nip at it and he trembles.
This is dangerous. Ren is so pliant under my hands. I could do anything to him, I'm sure, and he’d let me. I could drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. I could push him to his knees and then push into his mouth. I could turn him around and press into him, take him and give the Resistance something to hear.
I don't do anything and Ren moans.
“You're thinking so loud,” he sighs into my mouth, pressing his hips against mine. He’s hard, maybe not fully, but enough. I'm embarrassed to note that so am I.
“We should stop,” I whisper, mortified. Ren groans again, frustrated this time, but pulls away and sets about washing himself with the single bar of soap.
By an unspoken agreement, we wait to exit the shower until our mutual situation has resolved itself. Once we're fit to leave the private confines of the shower, I set about shaving with the electric razor the Resistance has provided. Its results are not as smooth as the straight razor I am accustomed to, but it's serviceable.
I'm halfway done when I notice the small red mark on my neck, the same side Ren had kissed. I touch it gingerly. None of my previous partners left any marks on me, but a short session of kissing with Ren leaves me with a hickey like I'm some hormone-riddled schoolboy.
I didn't even notice. How the hell did Ren leave a mark on me without me noticing? What else can that sinful mouth do?
***
Finally, finally, after the next time we sleep, I'm retrieved for further interrogation. I’m almost happy to go, to be given something to do besides stare into space and think about nothing. Being pulled away from our room, finally, gives me a chance to barter for something to do in our empty hours.
Anka and my usual interrogator are already there when I'm sat down and the ever present blindfold is removed. He's smiling serenely.
“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday,” he says. My hand immediately goes to cover the mark Ren left on me where it peeks out over the collar of my shirt. I flush.
“I suppose you could say that.”
Anka shakes with silent giggles.
“What prompted Kylo Ren’s outburst?”
“He’s bored, apparently. I am too, to be honest,” I lick my lips, hesitating only briefly, “What would it take to have a datapad?”
“What are you willing to give us?”
***
Ren’s still there when I'm returned to our room. He's laying on the bed, reading something on the datapad I have apparently managed to secure. There's a second one on the table, along with a stack of datacards.
“Romance novels mostly,” Ren says, “but it's something. Good job, General.”
“You're very welcome. Hopefully this helps alleviate your disastrous boredom.”
“I won't destroy anything else,” he smirks at me over the top edge of his datapad, “That is, until we run out of datacards.”
I sigh, “I told you, you're not going to intimidate the Resistance into doing what you want.”
“I know, I know. I have to trade secrets if I want anything.” Ren sets his datapad down and pulls something out from between him and the wall.
“A chess board!”
Ren grins, triumphant. “I tried to get a dejarik board, since I'm better at it, but I guess we haven't earned the right to anything holographic yet.”
I’m so pleased with what Ren has managed that I could kiss him. This is why we work so well together, despite his tantrums. He's very good at fleshing out my plans, building them up into something even better than I could imagine on my own. I could kiss him. I should kiss him.
I do, crossing the room in four long strides, bending over to grab his ridiculous face between my hands. He goes along willingly when I pull him up to press my lips against his.
“If I had known all it’d take to get you to like me was a game of chess, I would have offered to play you a lot sooner,” he says after I pull away, a little breathless. I huff a laugh and kiss him again.
***
As soon as I move to get out of bed, one of Ren’s big hands presses me back down.
“Why do you have to get up so early?” he grouses, face first in the pillow.
“How do you know it's early?” I ask. There's no clock in the room. I have no idea what time it is, I just know that I’ve slept enough, thus it's time to get up.
“I just do,” Ren answers, “Go back to sleep.”
“I'm not tired anymore.”
Ren just wraps around me, arm across my stomach and leg across my thighs. He says, “Try. If you get up, then I have to get up, and I don't want to.”
I sigh, “Fine,” and shift until I'm comfortable under his weight.
I’ve grown used to the way Ren cuddles, touching me constantly when we're in bed like he thinks I’ll disappear when he closes his eyes. He touches me a lot no matter what, brushing his knuckles against my shoulder when we sit side by side on the bed reading or reaching over to place his hand on mine while we play chess. I'm still a little frustrated that Ren is so much better at acting out this fake relationship, but slowly I'm getting better at it myself by taking queues from him.
At the very least, I no longer flinch when he touches me unexpectedly. Mostly.
Ren kisses my shoulder, propping himself up on one elbow to kiss across my collarbone, then up my neck until he reaches my mouth.
“You think so loud,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Do you read all my thoughts, or just the ones about you?” I ask, disgruntled.
He grins and kisses me again. “Just the ones about me. They're the loudest.”
I sigh and it's so easy to kiss him once more, threading my fingers through his curtain of dark hair. It tickles my cheeks where it brushes against me as Ren tilts his head to better capture my lips. He sucks on one, then nips at it, then presses his tongue between my teeth. It's the same sort of thing I've grown used to in our interactions, but it seems so much lazier in the dark, calm and warm and sleepy. I hum into his mouth, a small pleased sound, and Ren moans in return. I can feel the stirrings of his erection against my hip.
“I thought you wanted to continue to sleep,” I tease. He tucks his face against my neck and drags his teeth over my jugular.
“I do,” he says, lips hot and spit slick against my skin, “but kissing you is so much better than sleep.”
I can think of no argument. Kissing Ren is nice, and I'm not tired anyway. However, we are quickly reaching the point where our bodies betray us by engaging in base reactions and, as much as I enjoy kissing Ren, I still don't want to have sex with him.
You do though, comes a whisper at the back of my brain. I am unsure if it's just my cock arguing for sexual contact or if it's Ren trying to convince me with his mind tricks. Fine, I think purposefully, perhaps I do, but not under these circumstances.
Ren backs off with one last kiss to my neck, settling back against my side with a contented sigh. His hips are still pressed against me but he makes no move for friction against his erection. I applaud his self control; I am unsure that I would be able to do the same.
***
We're eating dinner after a long day of nothing when Ren reaches over with his fork to spear food off my plate. I stare at him with consternation as he pops it into his mouth.
“What was that for?” I ask, incredulous. Ren just shrugs and continues eating.
Then he does it again. I pull my plate closer to me and shoot him a glare.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” I tell him shortly. He smirks.
“That's not what you were saying the other day.”
I flush, naturally picking up on what he means, despite the fact that I have never encouraged him touching me. I’m sure his words were meant more for the Resistance member watching us, insinuating sexual contact where there's been none.
“You may touch me. You may not touch my food. You have your own, and it is the exact same as mine.”
“Yours tastes better,” he says simply, using his frustratingly long arms to reach over and steal more of my food.
“That makes no sense.”
Ren just shrugs again, eyes focused on his food as he eats. I stare at him, trying to figure out just what he's up to, and notice he's gone ever so slightly pink. Is this a thing that people do, casually stealing food off their partner’s plate? It's absurd, especially considering we were served the same exact thing.
This is stupid, I think very purposefully. Ren glances up at me and I make aggressive eye contact as I reach over and help myself to his plate. He stares at me for a long moment before sputtering into laughter.
“You are ridiculous, Armitage,” he tells me, shaking with mirth. His grin is lopsided and his dimples are out in full force. For some reason, I find myself blushing.
“You're the one stealing food off my plate.” My tone only makes me blush more. I sound sulky, like I’m pouting. Ren laughs harder.
My face is burning. I busy myself stabbing vegetables with my fork as Ren laughs at me.
“You're cute,” he says once he has his laughter under control. He sounds impossibly fond, like he actually believes what he's said.
I have been called a great many things, but never cute, and never with the conviction that Ren says it with. He states it like immutable fact, like it's something he's always believed to be true. I ignore it, sure his words are solely for the Resistance, further cementing our relationship as real for them.
Later, when the lights are out and we're in bed, he kisses me softly and I almost think he does have feelings for me, that his act isn't an act at all. I know better, but for a moment I believe.
***
It's sometime in the late afternoon, according to our meal schedule and Ren’s internal clock, and we are reading side by side on the bed. Ren has taken to reading bits of his terrible romance novel out loud for my dubious enjoyment. I must admit, the humour in his voice as he does so is endearing. Odd, given his previous inclination towards being ghastly and intimidating, but endearing nonetheless.
Even with all the affection he's shown me, I'm still taken by surprise when he moves, scooting over enough to lay down, setting his head in my lap. He's on his back, long legs crooked to keep them from dangling over the edge of the bed, datapad held over his face. I can't see his face past the datapad, but I can see his pink ears where his hair has fallen back to pool in my lap.
I agree with his ears’ assessment of the situation. Ren should be embarrassed to be laying on me like a child. I'm embarrassed.
It is a rather good way of being affectionate while we quietly entertain ourselves though. Even if I have no idea what to do with him now that he's in my lap.
“That seems like a good way to get hit with your own datapad,” I tell him, because I have to say something.
“I'm not going to drop it, don't worry,” he says, sounding serene. He's absolutely going to drop it, I’m sure of it. It's one thing to hold a datapad in your lap while reading on it, where your hands are braced against your thighs and the weight of the datapad rests on eight fingers. It's something else entirely to suspend two kilograms of glass over your face, wedged in place by the meat of your thumbs.
Without thinking, I flick the back of his datapad. I'm somehow still surprised when he fumbles it, the device slipping from his tenuous grip to fall the short distance to his face. Ren makes a squawking sound that would be hilarious in another situation, but I’m oddly horrified at my own actions.
Ren manages to catch the datapad before it hits him in the face. He slams it down to his lap to glare at me, saying, “You asshole,” so scandalized that I can't help but laugh. After a moment, he laughs too.
“I thought you weren't going to drop it,” I tease.
“I wasn't,” he says, “until you flicked it, you ass.”
His tone sets me off laughing again. I set my datapad down on the pillow next to me, bending over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth like an apology. He turns his head just slightly so he can kiss me back properly, flicking his tongue out against my lips. I oblige, opening my mouth to him. He sighs in pleasure, one hand coming up to card through my loose hair.
“This is a very uncomfortable position,” I say into his mouth.
“You owe me for trying to kill me with a datapad.”
I snicker, “I wasn't trying to kill you.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“How about I show you how much I’m trying not to kill you?” I murmur against his lips. He groans and pulls my head down so he can kiss me hard, tongue diving between my teeth to curl behind them.
“You can give me the little death any time,” he says, his voice gone husky with arousal.
I snort. “That was a terrible line.”
“But it's true,” he says, grinning. He sounds so sincere; I’m actually, truly, starting to believe him and isn’t that dangerous. I must keep it in my mind that this whole relationship is a lie, that we’re just playing pretend to keep ourselves alive.
But it’s nice to think that Ren’s act isn’t an act at all.
***
We're in the shower, debriefing after our individual interrogations as is usual for us now. I'm plastered against Ren’s front, arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder, comfortable as I bitch, “I still think they don't believe us. What more could we be doing to show that, yes, we are in a relationship?”
Ren kisses the side of my neck, chuckling at my vehemence.
“Don't laugh! Brainstorm. What can we do?”
“We could have sex,” he states, matter of fact, “It's all that's left.”
I scowl and he goes, “I know, I know. I don't mind though. We're stuck with this lie so we might as well. Besides, you're attractive. I like you. It could be worse.”
“I suppose,” I sigh. He does have a point. It's my fault we're in this situation, and we're stuck here indefinitely. We might as well make the most of things and if Ren is comfortable with having sex for the first time to further this lie, who am I to say no? I’m positive he's already aware of my interest in him. He can read my mind; he's all but told me that he can't help listening in on my thoughts about him. They're "so loud", after all.
“I don't mind,” he repeats, voice so soft I can barely hear him over the sound of the water.
“Even with the Resistance watching?”
“It’ll be payback for all the times they embarrassed me as a child.”
***
I almost expect Ren to jump me after we exit the shower. I keep waiting and waiting for him to make the first move, but he treats me the same as he has all these weeks, months now, casual and surprisingly gentle. Even when we turn out the lights for bed, he keeps his hands to himself. At least, as much as is the new normal for us.
He's going to spring it on me, the bastard.
Two days later, it's less sprung and more lazily tripped into.
It's first thing in the morning and Ren has held me down to keep me from getting up again, one big hand on my chest as he kisses me, again. He had woken up hard this time and his erection presses hot against my hip.
I bite at his lip and he groans, “Can I?”
He doesn't bother waiting for an answer before he climbs into my lap, a little clumsy under the blanket.
Somewhere along the way, the Resistance had supplied us with proper pyjamas. Ren still sleeps in just a pair of pants, but I wear the full set. I can tell this frustrates Ren now as he shoves his hand under my shirt to get at bare skin, teeth against my throat. He bites down, softly, then sucks at my skin, intent on leaving a mark.
Truth be told, it frustrates me too. The weight of Ren’s hard cock against me is almost too much, even without any additional friction. I rise quickly under him. It has, perhaps, been too long since the last time I had sex.
One of Ren’s hands curls around my ribs, anchoring him to me while he rests his weight on the other elbow next to my shoulder. The fingers of that hand thread through my hair. He's very thoroughly wrapped around me, taking up my entire field of view, filling every one of my senses.
I thumb the v of his hips and nudge my cheek against the top of his head. Ren gets the hint, moving to kiss me again, tongue diving into my mouth. He's gotten better at this, less hesitant, making me groan.
Then he rolls his hips against mine. This is hesitant, stilted and awkward and utterly new to him, but it still makes me see stars. He shudders and moans, distracted from our kiss. I suck on his lip to bring him back to it.
Ren kisses me sloppily but enthusiastic, tangling his tongue with mine as his hips stutter with motion, slowly gaining confidence. I slide my fingers under the waistband of his pants, desperate to have him naked. He moans again and sits back to tug at my shirt.
“Off,” he says, “Take this off.”
I scramble to comply, stripping off my shirt and almost clipping him in the jaw with my elbow in my haste. Ren pushes me back flat with one hand, dipping back down to bite at my neck again, intent on leaving another mark. I groan, frustrated, and pull on his waistband.
“If I have to remove clothing, so do you,” I tell him, arching up to grind against him. He just scoots down so our erections aren't pressed together, kissing his way across my chest. I get the slightest hint of a promise at the back of my head, a silent soon.
It takes me until he reaches my navel with his kisses to realize what Ren plans on doing. My cock throbs at the thought and he looks up at me, blanket tented over his head like a shroud, and grins. Slowly, he pulls my pyjama pants down over my erection, freeing it. Equally slowly, he ducks his head down to just… lick it.
I snort, “Very arousing, Ren. Good job.”
“Shut up, I'm new at this,” he snarks back, laughing. His hot breath ghosts over my cock, a phantom touch, and I arch up unto it. Then Ren wraps his fingers around my length and sucks down the head. A groan bubbles up out of my throat, surprising me with how loud it is.
It is not the best head I’ve ever gotten. It still gets honorable mention for being the most enthusiastic, Ren working me over with his lips and tongue and teeth, intent on finding every little way to make me moan that he can. He dips the tip of his tongue into the slit of my head, slides it around the flare, presses hard at my frenulum. He pulls in as much as he can, hollowing his cheeks, filling his wide mouth until he gags. Even then, he only pulls back the slightest amount before going back down, inhaling slow and deep through his nose as he does.
That is not a trick he should know, I think as, somehow, somehow, he manages to suck me down almost all the way to the root. There's burst of humour at the back of my mind and I realize he's learning how to suck cock by reading my mind. I'm scandalized by this misuse of the Force. Ren just pops off my cock to smirk at me.
“You're terrible,” I say, sounding more breathy than I would like. He grins, lopsided and warm.
“Are you complaining, General?” Ren asks, teasing, before he goes back to sucking my cock.
“No,” I groan, “Not at all.”
Good, I hear without him taking his mouth off of me.
As much as I am enjoying myself, I want him back over me, close enough for me to touch him in return. I card my fingers through his hair but it's not the same, not enough. I want him naked, his hard cock pressed against mine, his fist wrapped around us both.
Ren gives one last hard suck, the tip of his tongue pressed against my frenulum, before he pulls away and says, “All you have to do is ask.”
“Then get up here, you prick,” I say, giving his hair a gentle tug.
“Asshole,” he says, but he's kicking off his pants. He pulls mine down to my knees before he crawls back into my lap. The one light in the room, from the power bar our datapads are plugged into, paints him a harsh, ghostly blue, the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak. His cock is hard and hot against mine, glistening at the head with precome. I take a moment to admire him, the dark halo of his hair, his full, spit slick lips, the hard shadows his musculature casts all across his skin.
I slide my hands up his thighs, over his waist, across his stomach. He trembles at my touch.
I ghost the tips of my fingers down the length of him, first following the thin trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. When I reach his cock, he shudders and moans, “Fuck, Armitage.”
I can't help but feel smug that I have the great Kylo Ren naked and moaning my name, that I'm the first to touch him like this.
Ren grins and takes both of us in his hand. I hiss at the contact, arching up as he squeezes just the right amount. He starts slow, groans bubbling up from his chest at the movement of his own hand. At the apex of one stroke, he slides his thumb over both our heads, smearing his precome on to me.
“You feel so good, General,” he breathes, picking up speed. The friction borders on painful with nothing but our precome to ease the way. Apparently reading my mind, Ren pulls his hand away to spit in his palm. I make a face and Ren snickers.
“That's disgusting,” I tell him, even as my cock twitches when he resumes his grasp on us.
“What else do you suggest I do, then, hmm?”
I sigh, giving in. He's right, of course. There's no better choice, barring perhaps moving to the shower where there's water and soap to ease the way. I am, however, very comfortable where I’m at, warm under Ren and his ministrations. I can put up with a little spit.
Ren laughs at me, breathless and warm, no doubt reading my mind. If he's going to be in my head, I figure I may as well give him a show.
I focus on the warm, velvet heat of his cock against mine, the drag of his hand over us, how good it feels to finally do this with him. How good it felt to be in his mouth. How I want nothing more to flip us over and go down on him in turn, to suck him off until he comes gasping my name.
“Fucking please,” Ren gasps instead, “Do that, fuck me, please.”
I grin wickedly, entirely satisfied with his begging. I don't think I've ever heard him say please before this and it is very fitting that he does so during sex.
I buck up and Ren gets the hint, scrambling off of my lap to lay down next to me, taking the blanket with him. I kick my pants off the rest of the way and kneel next to his thigh, bending over double to fit my mouth around the head of his cock. Ren groans, low and lewd and loud. There's no way any further fake sex in the shower is going to fool the Resistance now that everyone and his fucking mother knows he's this loud.
He's loud and I’ve barely done anything. At this rate he’ll come screaming my name.
“I just want to show my appreciation,” he says, surprisingly coherent. The first time I was sucked off, I couldn't form full sentences for a good five minutes after. Then again, I was sixteen and Ren is somewhere around thirty.
I make it my goal to still render him speechless.
His cock is not overly large, like I expected given the size of the rest of him, but it is proportionate. His girth stretches my lips nicely and, as I slide down the length of him, I can already feel the pleasant ache in my jaw that comes with this act. I don't bother teasing him, getting straight to the point by sucking in as much as I can, going deeper with each bob of my head.
Ren runs his fingers through my hair once, then leaves his hand on the back of my head, not pushing but still a demanding presence. His other hand gravitates to my knee, squeezing gently as he moans.
“You're so good to me,” he whispers, words quiet in contrast to how loud he voices his pleasure, “So, so good.”
I press the tip of my tongue against his frenulum, tensing the muscle to make a hard point. Ren gasps and rolls his hips up, pressing his cock deeper into my mouth. He doesn't push deep enough to make me gag but I still pull back to shoot him a glare.
“Don't do that,” I scold him, “It's rude.”
Ren just laughs, a soft, breathy, completely un-sorry noise. I frown at him, very much not sucking his cock, until he laughs again, saying, “Sorry, sorry, won't happen again.” Only then do I put my mouth back on him.
I don't swallow him back down though, choosing to instead lick along the bottom from root to tip before sucking gently at the slit. Precome blooms across my tongue and Ren groans deliciously.
“Please,” Ren whispers, tugging at my hair gently like he's trying to coax me into moving, to suck him into my mouth again, or to come up to kiss him, I'm not sure which. I do my best to oblige, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his cock before I swallow him down. I bob my head faster this time, intent on making him come.
“Fuck, fuck,” he gasps, arching up off the bed. I shoot him a dirty look over my mouthful, but he's good; he doesn't try to shove his cock further down my throat.
Then he twists a little at his waist, angling himself so he can reach my own cock with his long arms. I stutter in my rhythm as he strokes me with a firm hand, just how I like it. I would be irritated that he's plucked this information from my brain, but it does mean I don't have to keep correcting him.
Ren huffs a laugh and I pull away to tell him, “Get out of my head.”
“No,” he replies simply, grinning. What a shit, I think, and Ren laughs some more.
His hand on my cock is far more distracting than I’d like. I take a moment to just enjoy it, groaning against his hipbone before I take him back into my mouth. I double my effort to get him off, sucking his cock like my life depends on it.
My efforts are rewarded when, a few moments later, he moans, “Fuck, General -- Armitage, I, I'm --” and his hand goes slack on me. I pull away as his hips twitch up and stroke him to completion. His back arches up impossibly high off the bed. I look up to his face as he comes. He has one hand pressed over his mouth, silent, much to my surprise, with two spots of colour high on his cheeks. His hair is a mess, fanned out on the pillow, curls stuck to his damp forehead. He is absolutely, irrevocably, impossibly beautiful.
He relaxes bonelessly when he's done, arm flopping down on to the bed next to him. He just stares up at the ceiling, panting, for a moment before he grabs my wrists and tugs, pulling me into his lap.
“Come for me, General,” he murmurs, hand back on my cock. I curl over him, propped up with my hands over his shoulders, gasping as his knuckles drag against my belly. He tilts his chin up and I'm compelled to kiss him.
Ren’s tongue dives into my mouth, licking my teeth, before he pulls back to suck on my bottom lip, his hand bringing me closer and closer. He kisses across my cheek to the corner of my jaw, then whispers, “Come on, come on, do it. Come for me,” into my ear.
I shudder and bite my lip, hands curled into fists.
“Please,” Ren begs, and that's what does it. I gasp the smallest ah as I add to the mess on his hard stomach. He wrings my orgasm out of me, stroking my cock until there's nothing left.
I sigh and rest my forehead against his, utterly content. Ren still strokes my softening cock, slowly, like an afterthought, and it sends shocks of pleasure down my spine that border on too much. It's pleasant. Wonderful. Quite possibly the best sex I’ve had in quite a while.
“Do you really think I'm beautiful?” Ren asks after a long moment, soft and almost hesitant. I huff a laugh.
“Yes,” I say simply, then, after a moment of consideration I add, “You're strange and wonderful and I adore you.”
The smile that blossoms on Ren’s face is brilliant and warm and just for me.
***
“I'm curious,” I say, distracting Ren from kissing his way across my shoulder, “What have you told the Resistance about our relationship?”
Ren pauses, then pulls away to bump his forehead against mine. His small smile is almost sad when he says, “That you were right; I would have been ordered to kill you to cut off all attachments had we stayed with the First Order.”
I hum acknowledgement.
“It's true,” he murmurs, “With the destruction of Starkiller, you wouldn't have been of any use to Snoke. He wouldn't have let me keep you.”
I snort at the notion that I am a thing to be kept, then his words sink in.
“You—just how long have you had feelings for me?” I hiss, mortified.
Ren’s sad smile widens before he presses a quick kiss to my lips. I feel… horrified mostly. If I had known that Ren had feelings for me, I would have never gone through with this lie. I feel like I've taken advantage of him.
He kisses me again, harder, and pushes wordless thoughts into my head: warmth, brightness, happiness. Contentment. Like being locked up with me is the happiest he's ever been.
Because it is.
I just kiss him, desperate, hoping he forgives me for using his affection for my own gains.
***
I'm asked increasingly specific questions over the next few weeks. I can tell the Resistance is planning something big, but I can't quite piece it together. It is incredibly frustrating, for both my interrogator and myself.
“Look,” I tell him after being asked the same things for the nth time, “It might be easier for me to help if I know what you're trying to do.”
He stares at me for a long moment before he types out a message on his comlink. It beeps, signaling a reply, almost immediately. He nods.
“Anka, if you would be so kind.”
She smiles at me as she walks over to my side of the table, gesturing for me to stand. I do, and she takes my arm. Her grip on my elbow is strong, but not painful. Together, we leave the room, followed by my interrogator. More guards flank us as I'm lead, impossibly, to the room where General Organa and the rest of the Resistance leaders wait, huddled around a holo feed.
Organa’s eyes are much warmer this time, twinkling with smug amusement, like she knew this would happen eventually.
“What can you tell us, General Hux?”