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The shuttle drops out of lightspeed with a juddering shake that makes Hux’s teeth rattle in his jawbone, and sleep drops away from him like a blanket that had been abruptly yanked away. Why have they dropped out of lightspeed? He peers about the cabin of the shuttle with suspicion. Ren is in the pilot’s seat, his head tilted in at a perplexed angle, looking out the front window of the shuttle. Hux has never spent so much time around Ren with his helmet off, but apparently, it’s easier to fly without it.
Outside the front window, the beauty of a nebula swirls around them. Grasping fingers of stardust swirl around in a pattern of purple and blue, and gradients of red and green make delicate outlines around the stars buried in its spiraling arms. The nebula pulses, as if it is reacting to music that Hux can’t hear. Light dances and flickers, throwing a kaleidoscope of color over Ren’s face, glittering in his eyes, which seem far too wide. Ren’s seen a nebula before, Hux thinks. Maybe he always looks at them that way, his eyes wide and his face too young.
“What? What is it?” Hux says, irritation rising fast enough to cover the sound of sleep in his voice.
“Just a minute,” Ren says. He’s looking over the ship’s controls and moving around the cabin, doing something. Hux narrows his eyes at Ren’s back, then peers out the window at the beauty of the nebula, using the fluctuating radiance of colors to distract himself. He doesn't want to go back to sleep. It is a particularly beautiful nebula, full of movement and strobing lights.
He’s embarrassed that he fell asleep, off guard next to Ren, of all people. But he’d been tense and sleep deprived for the last five days, stuck at high alert the entire time they’d been dealing with the Hutts. Their mission had been to arrange passage for the First Order through Hutt space without getting further entangled with Hutt dealings, which they had finally accomplished, after long days of unpleasant negotiations. Hux was worn thin by the grueling repartee of cloaked threats that had been exchanged. The Hutts couldn’t challenge the First Order in a direct military confrontation, but they held enough purse strings and had their slimy fingers in enough quadrants that they couldn’t be ignored without consequence.
Of course, because Ren spoke Huttese with the fluency of a natural, Hux had been forced to take him along for the negotiations. As much as he disliked sharing power, he was unwilling to rely on a translator droid that might miss the subtle implications and tones of the Hutt’s complicated language. They didn’t even have a word for “thank you”, for star’s sake. The closest translation was “your services will be rewarded”. Even Hux found that distasteful.
And – though Hux would never admit it – the implicit threat of Kylo Ren had helped smooth the negotiations. The long memory of the Hutt race had not forgotten its interactions with previous Force users. Hux had seen Khandig Mem’s foul yellow eyes settle on the lightsaber at Ren’s hip with bitter recognition when they arrived. Ren hadn't had to use it, but there had been a couple of tense moments when Ren's hand had settled near the hilt of the lightsaber, and the conversation had turned in Hux's favor. Resentment of Ren’s usefulness rises in Hux at the memory, and he realizes Ren still hasn’t answered him, either.
“Ren! What is it? Why have we stopped?”
“Just a minute,” Ren says. His fingers are clicking over the panels of the shuttle, and Hux notices he’s checking the map, rather than the shuttle’s hyperdrive. Ren’s shoulders tense, and Hux can’t help but tense up along with him.
“Oh, shit,” Ren says, his voice a step higher than normal.
“For star’s sake, Ren, what?”
“Khandig tricked us,” Ren replies bitterly.
“Tricked us how, exactly?” Hux says.
“Wellll….” Ren hesitates, as if he doesn’t want to say, and before he replies he stands up and slams the door shut between the cockpit and the back of the shuttle, where their contingent of stormtroopers is strapped in. It makes Hux nervous, to be shut away from them, trapped up front with Ren, and he doesn’t like the way it makes the collar of his uniform tighter.
“Tricked us how, Ren?” Hux demands.
“That,” Ren says, pointing out the front of the shuttle angrily. “It’s the season of lights.”
“Excuse me, but what exactly is the season of lights?”
Hux is surprised when a blush rises across the points of Ren’s cheekbones, and he’s not sure how to react to it. The rest of his sharp questions drop away, and he remains silent as Ren drops back into the pilot’s seat with a deep sigh.
“Khandig gave us a shortcut back to the Finalizer through Hutt territory at the end of negotiations, as ‘an act of goodwill’, remember?”
“I do,” Hux replies icily. He had been excited at the chance to return faster, and had not questioned it. He'd taken it as a sign that the negotiations had concluded on good terms.
“So, it is a good shortcut, at every time of the year except this one. Which of course, he’ll say he forgot, if we ask him about it, because it doesn’t affect Hutts,” Ren says, his lip rising in anger.
“Because what doesn’t affect Hutts, Ren?”
“The nebula's lights,” Ren says, wiping a hand over his face. “We both already looked at them.”
Hux's face pales.
“What exactly is going to happen, Ren?”
“Uh…I haven’t experienced it before,” Ren says. Hux is getting progressively more nervous, which is making him progressively angrier.
“Spit. It. Out, Ren,” Hux says through gritted teeth.
“My fa—a smuggler I used to know worked with Jabba the Hutt back in the day,” Ren says. Hux ignores his stuttered beginning, and motions impatiently for him to continue.
“Yes, and?”
“Well, Jabba got him with a route through the Karruk nebula before, too.” Ren smacks his hand to his forehead. “How did I not remember this?”
“Ren! What is going to happen?”
“I’m – fuck, you’re so impatient,” Ren growls. “The nebula cycles, all right? Most of the year it’s stable, but this time of the year, it isn’t. The season of the lights. When a ship enters the nebula, it stirs up the dust and the dust emits light. When certain species of humanoid see the light pattern, it has a psychotropic effect. Reduced inhibitions, increased energy…” Ren trails off, grumbling something else under his breath.
“What else, Ren?” Hux says.
“Arousal,” Ren says louder, his voice dangerous. “My father’s - ” - Ren winces - “ - The smuggler's copilot was a Wookiee, and the Wookiee told me that he had to wait for hours for the nebula to settle and for the smuggler to calm down. It didn't affect the Wookiee - he thought it was hilarious. The smuggler kept trying to brush his hair and pet him.”
Hux is too floored to mock Ren for the slip-up in his story, mentioning that the smuggler was his father. The collar of his uniform has definitely shrunk, and there’s not enough air in the front of this godforsaken shuttle.
“Well, let’s just move to the back, then,” Hux says, licking his lips. His mouth feels far too dry. “We can sit back there with the stormtroopers until…”
Ren is glaring at him with a burning expression.
“They haven’t seen the lights, Hux. We have. So it’ll be the two of us, off our shit, back there with all of them, sober as can be. You really want them to see you like that?”
Hux pales. “No, thank you.”
There is a long, awkward silence that spreads between the two seats of the shuttle. The lights are moving faster, now, the nebula’s radiance filtering a pink and yellow glow over the back of Hux’s hand. He wants to look up at it again, feels called to do so, but resists. Will it intensify the effect or duration if he does? He doesn’t want to risk it.
“Aren’t Force users above this sort of thing?” Hux asks.
“What? Above what?”
“You can’t resist the effect of the lights and get us out of here?” Hux asks.
“I'm a Force user, not invulnerable,” Ren snarls.
The rippling motion of Ren's gravitational power flexes in the small space of the cockpit. Hair raises along the back of Hux's neck, and his mouth snaps shut.
How the mighty have fallen, Hux thinks sarcastically, and he bites the remark in half to keep it unsaid. Perhaps it's best not to needle Ren as he normally would, trapped in an air bubble with no way to escape. He's not going to let himself think about what will happen if the lights shear away what little there is of Ren's control, but he does anyway, and his palms begin to sweat.
Ren's power dissipates back to him, and he must feel some regret for snapping, because he speaks again. “It’s not safe to correct the flight path while the nebula's moving like this. Plus it’s …it’s already started,” he says. “I shouldn't fly.”
Hux dares to look at Ren, and sees that sweat is dripping in a line from Ren’s temple, and his pupils look far too wide, blowing the brown of his eyes to thin edges. He tears his eyes away from Ren's face before Ren can see him looking.
Hux reaches for the comm, and depresses the button.
“Attention, troopers,” he says. “We've reached an unexpected impassable section of our flight path and will have to wait it out for – several hours, until the path can be recharted. Do not disturb Lord Ren and myself while we manually calculate the new flight path. Please consider yourselves off duty for the moment and initiate your rest cycle.”
Hux clicks the comm off before his nervous breathing can echo into the microphone. His uniform is hot, and so itchy. His fingers scrape under the edge of his collar. Hux closes his eyes and tries to concentrate.
***
“Is the effect going to last longer if I look at the lights again?” Hux asks. His words feel like little flower petals set loose in the air as he speaks. He would very much like to look out the window. They haven't spoken in a long time.
“I don't know,” Ren says. “I've been looking at them.”
Hux cranes his head around to look at Ren. Ren is sitting cross-legged in the pilot's seat, a big foot braced under either knee, and at some point had stripped to the waist, though Hux hadn't heard him do it. Sweat is rolling down Ren's shoulders from his neck, glittering in the light, and his pale skin is illuminated with a flush of colors from the nebula, the flush of his intoxication. His long neck is tilted back, and he's staring at the lights with an idyllic expression on his face, watching them swirl. His jaw looks slightly lax, and his hands are resting lightly on either knee.
Hux snaps his head back right, to the dark spot in the corner where he's been staring to avoid the lights, and now also to avoid the sight of Ren.
Goddamn it, his uniform is so itchy.
“Is that wise, Ren?” Hux says, irritated.
“Will you just relax?” Ren says. “This'll...this'll be over, and then we can leave. It's not going to kill us. It's a prank.”
To Hux's surprise, Ren starts laughing. Uncontrollably laughing. Hux looks back at Ren out of the corner of his eye, and Ren is bent double, bent over his folded knees with the power of his laughter.
“I – I don't see how this is remotely funny, Ren,” Hux says, turning to face Ren again.
“It's...it's a good prank,” Ren says, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “It's really funny. You're so uptight -” Ren melts into another gale of laughter, slapping his hand on the arm of the pilot's chair. Hux has to tear his eyes away from the way Ren's stomach muscles contract, the way his head is thrown back against the headrest to expose the long column of his throat. Ren's ungainly ears are flushed to the tips with the pink color of his delight.
“At least I have self-control,” Hux mutters. His cheeks are burning. His words are too light as they drift from his lips, with none of his usual venom.
Ren wipes tears from his cheeks, snickering.
***
“Ugh, I'm so thirsty,” Ren says. “Is there any water up here?”
Hux jumps. It's been quiet for – how much time has passed? His eyes are swimming with colors. The nebula is pulsing outside the windows, sparkling dust growing brighter.
“Yes, there's water. In the case, by my duffel bag.”
He doesn't look away from the window, but he can hear Ren digging around at the back of the cockpit, then the sound of him cracking open a bottle of water and chugging it. Ren's footsteps grow closer and then an unopened bottle of water is shoved into Hux's line of sight.
“Drink it or you're going to dehydrate,” Ren says.
Hux's eyes are caught on Ren's hand, the grip of his fingers on the water bottle. The scars across the backs of his knuckles and the calluses on the inside of his palm are magnified through the water in such a way that the texture is vivid. He can imagine the texture of Ren's palm on his tongue.
He snatches the bottle of water from Ren's hand and turns further away, then drinks half of it as soon as the bottle hits his lips. As soon as Ren had mentioned water he was wildly thirsty. He screws the lid back on the bottle with fingers that are too sensitive, aware of every plastic ridge on the cap of the bottle. He wants to fidget, he wants to pace, he wants -
He wants to feel skin under his hand, not plastic.
Hux closes his eyes with slow concentration. He is not a victim to his physical needs. He has overcome hours of discomfort as a cadet, days of thirst and starvation, the years of pain inflicted upon him by his father. He will not succumb to something as low as this.
There is a sound behind him as stuff is moved around again, and he looks around to see Ren doing push-ups on the floor, in barely enough space to fit his broad body.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Ren tilts his head to the side to answer, but doesn't stop. “I have energy to burn.” He switches to one-handed push-ups on the left, then the right, moving himself up and down on one arm at a time with smooth fluidity.
“Your arms are skinny, but don't tell me you've never done a push-up before,” Ren says, his words coming in bursts as he presses himself up and down.
“Of course I have,” Hux sneers. “Thousands, as a cadet.” Though never one-handed, he thinks, watching Ren with cloaked admiration.
There was something else he wanted to say, but instead his words fade away as he watches Ren drop back to both hands, the motion of his biceps flexing, elbows folding and unfolding. His broad hands are spread wide on the floor to brace himself, and Hux can see glimpses of the dark hair nestled in Ren's armpits as he moves. Hux's eyes follow the shudder of muscles along Ren's back. The way his boots are braced perfectly against the wall...the supple curve of his ass.
“What?” Ren says. His face is still tilted towards Hux. Hux realizes that he is openly leering, and turns away.
“You – you have good form,” Hux wheezes, caught. Giving a compliment to Ren is less embarrassing than the truth. His uniform is officially strangling him. He drinks the rest of the water, and it does nothing to quench his thirst.
***
“Hux, will you please just take the fucking jacket off?”
“What?” Hux replies, peevishly.
“I am so tired of hearing you think about how itchy it is,” Ren hisses. “You're making me itchy.”
“Fine,” Hux says. He strips off the jacket and throws it at Ren's face. “Better?”
Ren catches the jacket out of the air with deft grace, and launches it back at Hux's face. Hux doesn't catch it, and the sweaty jacket lands on his face and over his head, messing up his hair. He throws it to the floor with a squawk of indignation, and tries to pat his hair back into order.
“Can't you ever be pleasant?” Ren says.
“Can't you?”
Ren's eyebrows draw together. “I can still make you go to the back and sweat this out with the 'troopers, you know,” he says, turning to Hux, his hands braced on his knees. “Do you really want to go back there with them? Your pupils are so big you look like...” Ren trails off.
“I look like what?” Hux challenges.
“Nothing,” Ren says. “Never mind.” Ren's eyes descend to Hux's throat, his collarbones, exposed in the low neckline of the tank top that was under his uniform jacket, and he licks his lips. Ren doesn't try to hide it, and Hux's pulse rides high in his throat. He's never allowed himself to consider the possibility that Ren might enjoy the company of men. That Ren would favor anyone, really.
That Ren might favor him.
Ren's eyes flick back up, meeting his. Too dark, too open. The colors of the nebula float across Ren's pupils like an oil slick. Hux is staring into the colors, staring into Ren's eyes.
“What do I look like, Ren?” Hux says. He fights the urge to lick his lips.
“A little orange kitten. All big round eyes. You'd never scare the troops again,” Ren says, but his eyes say delicious, and his voice is toned low and seductive. Ren's words reverberate up Hux's spine, and his toes curl in his boots.
Confronted with it, Hux drinks in the look on Ren's face that's directed at him. Open, unimpeded desire. His mouth is dry again, and Hux has to drive his fingernails into his palms to force himself to tear his eyes away. He hears Ren settle back into the pilot's seat with a sigh.
It's not him. The lights would make Ren look at anyone that way.
That's got to be it.
***
Hux's body is dripping with sweat. He retrieves another bottle of water and drinks half of that, too, but the cockpit of the shuttle is so stifling and – fuck.
He relents and strips off his tank top, tossing it to the floor to join his jacket, then strips off his boots, bending his feet in his socks and then taking those off, too. He settles back in the chair to find Ren looking at him again, watching him. Self-consciousness rises in him, and he wants to cross his arms over his chest but doesn't do it, instead sitting back and adopting a relaxed posture.
“Better?” Ren asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You embrace suffering more than anything else.”
Hux snorts. “Isn't that your job, as a mystic?”
Ren shrugs, the bulk of his big shoulders rolling back against the seat. “I don't embrace suffering. I tolerate it. You subject yourself to it.”
“I subject myself to a lot of things,” Hux says, giving Ren a withering stare. “Like you.”
He doesn't think his stare is as withering as he'd have liked, because Ren seems to have taken a double entendre from his statement, his mouth quirking a little. As if he's imagining Hux subjecting himself to Ren. Heat rises in Hux's cheeks again, and he hates the way Ren can now see that the top of his bare chest colors with it, too.
“You never subject yourself to good things,” Ren says. “You can't even enjoy this, and it's nice,” he says, tilting his head back.
“Nice?” Hux hisses. “We're high, and waylaid for hours thanks to a treacherous worm!”
Ren wriggles up and down to scratch his back against the pilot's seat, his sweat squeaking against the leather. “Hux, he could have sent us through a cloaked minefield, or had some bounty hunter tail us, or planted a bomb on the ship – instead, it's this,” he says, spreading his hand out to the nebula again. “It's practically a hug, as far as the Hutts go.”
Hux laughs, unable to stop it. He can't ignore the image that rises in his mind, of Ren kneeling to clasp Khandig Mem's loathsome greenish body in a crushing hug, and laughter overtakes him as it had Ren earlier. Tears run from the corners of Hux's eyes as he imagines Khandig's eyes bulging from his head in Ren's bearhug. The shadow of a smile passes over Ren's face – as if he can see the image in Hux's mind – and then slips away.
“I suppose you're right,” Hux says, hiccuping laughter. “It could be worse.”
“It could be,” Ren says, his voice soft, and Hux has to turn away.
***
The lights are swirling to the point where they seem practically pressed up against the glass of the shuttle, flickering in a glittering rainbow of colors. Hux is certain there are colors in the spectrum displayed before him that he can't even see. It makes him a little wistful, to think of the mysteries of the universe that are outside of his comprehension by nature of design.
Hux can hear the pulse and beat of the lights now. The music of the nebula that had escaped him earlier is thrumming in his bloodstream. He rubs his hands over his bare arms, letting his fingers skate over his skin, up his neck, then down again. He has to stifle the sound he wants to make at the touch of his own fingers across his skin. Hux rubs a palm over the back of his neck, lets his fingers slide up his skull to run through his hair. He scrapes his fingernails over his scalp, tilting his head back, massaging his fingers though his hair. It's...it's so good.
Ren makes a soft sound next to him, and Hux slowly turns his head to face Ren. Ren's gaze is locked on him, following the path of his hands, his fingers. All the brown in Ren's eyes is gone now, pushed out to make room for the black lust that is staring Hux down.
“You don't want me,” Hux says, his words sounding more hurt than he meant them to. He can't believe he's said them at all, but he's lost all the restraint that would have kept them quiet. “I'm just the one you're stuck with.”
Ren leans back, away from him, trying to stow away the look on his face. “Why do you think this is the trick Khandig picked?” he asks, his fingers rubbing at his pinched brows.
“I don't know. Because I'm uptight?” he says, tossing Ren's words back at him.
Ren's eyebrows draw together in anger, and he turns away. “Because he saw me watching you,” Ren says, his voice flickering. “Because he wanted to humiliate me for intimidating him.”
“I...” Hux's heart flutters under his breastbone. Ren had been looking at him?
“He knew I was piloting. He knew you'd be in the cockpit. The Hutts are clever, Hux,” Ren growls. “This was a trick for me more than you. He saw me looking at you, and...” Ren spreads his arms wide and then drops them back to his lap, an angry curl to his lip. “Here we are. He gets his jab at me, and with perfect plausible deniability.”
Ren is fuming, and he stands from the pilot's seat, pacing the small space of the cockpit with furious steps, back and forth across the six steps he can manage.
Hux understands Ren's explanation, and it makes sense. The Hutts wouldn't have the corner on the galaxy that they did without being clever, and treacherous. Arranging a situation to embarrass Ren and simultaneously cause conflict among two high-ranking officials of the First Order is tactical genius. Normally, Hux would take a moment to appreciate Khandig's cunning, but all he can think about is Ren watching him. Ren had been watching him, enough to be noticed by Khandig.
Ren's watching him again now.
Hux dares to stand, and move closer to where Ren has frozen in the path of his pacing. Ren's fists are clenched at his sides, and Hux thinks it is now more restraint than it is anger. The small space of the cockpit is heavy with the smell of both of them already, the air suffused with their sweat. Hux steps closer into Ren's circle, letting his fingers reach out to drift up the outside of Ren's forearm. Ren's fingers relax, but his posture does not.
“You're – high,” Ren says. He backs up a step, and Hux drops his hand.
“Not so high that I don't know what I want,” Hux says.
“Do you?” Ren says, swallowing heavily. “Know what you want?”
“I always know what I want,” Hux says. “I just don't always allow myself to have it.”
Hux stands there, at arm's length, and lets his fingers draw across Ren's broad chest. Ren's breath speeds up, and the look of desperate lust in his eyes deepens. He slides his fingers across Ren's collarbone, watching the way it makes Ren quiver as his fingers drag across the skin. Ren's nipples are hard from just this. The contact twists up the nerves in Hux's arm, illuminating his entire nervous system. He knows what he wants, and what he'd like to allow himself to have.
He wants to feel skin under his hand. Ren's skin.
He steps forward, sliding one hand behind Ren's neck, pulling his face down, leaning up to meet Ren's lips with his own. Ren's lips are soft against his own, but he remains stiff and unyielding, hands locked at his sides. He slides his lips along Ren's, pressing up, reaching for more, and Ren remains motionless, restrained. Hux takes another step closer, pressing their bare chests together, and Ren moans against his lips. The sound pours from Ren, down Hux's back, melding with him.
“Hux, please,” Ren says, hoarse. Hux lets his hands drift to rest on Ren's biceps, just above his elbows, and his arms are shaking with muscular strength; the effort of Ren's restraint. “Don't tease me. I'll go in the back with the stormtroopers. But I can't -” Ren is panting, sweat rolling down the sides of his neck.
“Then don't,” Hux says, and the leash breaks.
Ren's hands reach out and snatch Hux's hips, pulling him against his body, and he brings Hux's face back to his, their lips meeting in a crashing kiss Ren is leading. Ren's hands move to Hux's ass and he's lifted up, a big hand covering each cheek of his ass, the heat of Ren's palms burning through the fabric of Hux's pants. Ren's breath snarls against his neck. Hux swings his legs around Ren's hips and locks his feet behind Ren's thighs, twining them together as Ren bites at his lower lip.
Ren steps back to the pilot's chair and sinks into it, Hux in his lap. He adjusts his legs to keep his grip on Ren, and Ren is already so hard, pressed up against the juncture of his thighs. Hux is coasting his hands through sweat to touch all over Ren's chest, his sides, over the ridges of his ribs to the flat wide muscles of his back. Every inch of Ren's skin is a new thrill under his fingertips, the humming sensation of contact running through his body. Light, over his nerves.
Ren's mouth is all over his neck, his throat. Hux's hands stop, gripping into the muscles of Ren's side as Ren's teeth find the side of his neck, nipping, and his lips run down the edge of Hux's bare shoulder. Hux groans, openly, and Ren answers with a growl pressed into his skin.
Hux is tilted forward, weightless in Ren's arms for a moment as Ren takes them to the floor. Ren moves down his chest with licking bites, settling his mouth on Hux's nipples, and Hux's eyes roll back under his lids. Ren's hand is scraping down the edge of his pants and Hux helps them along, lifting his hips. He has forgotten that they are on the dirty floor of Ren's command shuttle; he is lost in the sensation of Ren's mouth moving across his stomach, the grip of Ren's hands on his hipbones.
When Ren's mouth finds his cock Hux cries out, his head tilting back, his eyes finding the lights through the windows. The prismatic colors surge through him with the strokes of Ren's tongue along the shaft of his cock. His body is so sensitive, like a burning flame of magnesium that flares with bright white intensity. Hux's fingers find Ren's hair, and bury in it, and he finds new pleasure in the noises that Ren makes against him as he tugs at Ren's hair. He is not usually one to find his climax quickly, but today it slams him to the floor with unexpected power, and he cries out as he comes in Ren's mouth, gasping at the feel of his cockhead twitching against Ren's tongue.
Ren doesn't wait, crawling back up his body to meet Hux's mouth, and Hux whimpers as their tongues meet again, the taste of his come all over Ren's lips. Ren's eyes are so black with lust for Hux that his own arousal clamors back up to meet it. It is him. For once, it is him that someone wants with such intensity. He grabs Ren's hip, sliding his hand to meet Ren's cock, palming it through Ren's rough pants, and Ren groans above him, moving his hips into Hux's hand for whatever contact he can get.
“There's ...there's lubricant in my bag,” Hux chokes.
“For a five day trip?” Ren says. He raises an eyebrow, and licks his lips. “You – never mind.” Hux's bag flies across the room into Ren's hand and he drops it unceremoniously on the floor, ripping open the zipper and digging through until he finds Hux's toiletries bag, and fishing out the clear bottle of lube.
“It's half-empty,” says Ren, his voice hungry. “You used half a bottle of lube in five days?”
“Shut up. It wasn't new when I left,” Hux says, slapping Ren's chest. “I...I can still go to the back. Keep the stormtroopers company,” he says, the teasing tone of his voice clear.
“You wouldn't dare,” Ren growls.
“Then be glad I travel prepared,” Hux says, and moves his hand back to Ren's cock, rubbing in a hard upward stroke over Ren's pants. He takes the bottle of lube from Ren's hand and starts to spread lube on Ren's fingers, slowly, enjoying the feeling of Ren's callused fingers against his own. Ren drops his forehead to Hux's shoulder, breathing hard, his position above Hux similar enough to the push-ups he was doing earlier to bring Hux's cock back to half-mast. Now, here he is, under Ren's tense form as he'd imagined in his head, pouring lube on to Ren's fingers.
Ren moves his slicked fingers between Hux's legs, finding the textured skin of his entrance, spreading lube all over him. Hux's hand slides under the waistband of Ren's pants. He's not surprised to find that Ren doesn't wear underwear, but the knowledge – a confirmation that he knows now for sure – draws his cock back to a full erection as he strokes Ren's heavy, uncut cock in his hand. Ren is groaning with open desperation, the sound of it pressed into the bones of his shoulder.
He pushes Ren's pants down to free his cock before Ren's fingers work too deeply in him; he's losing focus, his body melting into the gentle stretch of Ren working at him. Hux moans when the first knuckle sinks past the rim of his hole, and Ren's cock flexes in his hand in response. Hux's hips are filled with low heat, the desire for more. Ren sets his teeth into the meat of Hux's trapezoid as he pushes two fingers into Hux, and Hux cries out with abandon, his hips pistoning into it.
Ren's teeth are sharp pressure, almost too hard, but not quite, and his fingers are working deeper, spreading Hux open. Hux writhes beneath him, moving himself on Ren's fingers, and Ren huffs his approval in harsh exhales. Hux's body shines in Ren's hands, slick with sweat, and the small space is filled with the sound of their exchanged pants and gasps.
“Let me -” Ren starts, barely lifting his mouth from Hux's skin.
“Yes,” Hux begs.
Hux adjusts his legs and helps Ren to kick his pants off, and Ren moves back over him. The colors of the nebula cascade over Ren's body, his face, highlighting him in a rainbow palette, and Hux is stricken with how much he looks otherworldly, like a celestial being made of light. Iridescent highlights shine in Ren's dark hair, and his eyes swim with radiance, like the colors come from inside him, rather than an outside source. Hux sinks into Ren's eyes as Ren's cock breaches him, and Hux cries out, the two of them blending together in the light.
He had expected Ren to be a rough lover, but he isn't; he is careful, sliding into Hux with measured strokes until he feels Hux opening beneath him. Hux is lost with the thickness of Ren inside him – he's being loud, far too loud - the cries of his voice echoing around the cabin back at him. Ren lowers himself on his elbows, bringing his face to Hux's, and Hux is quieted when Ren's tongue sinks into his mouth. He surges upward, moving his hands from Ren's hips to cup both sides of Ren's jaw, steering Ren's mouth as Ren moves his hips.
Ren's breath blows across his lips, his neck. Hux lets his hands glide over Ren's body, feeling the motion of the muscles that he'd watched earlier with such open fascination. Now his fingers can enjoy the quiver of Ren's back; now his hands can grasp into Ren's ass to pull him close. Ren grunts as Hux pulls him deeper, and Hux whimpers when all of Ren's length is in finally in him. Hux throws his legs behind Ren's thighs, locking them together, continuing the gyration of Ren's hips from underneath as Ren strains to stay still above him.
Hux rocks his hips, keeping his hands on Ren's ass to hold him in place, his legs locked around Ren's thighs. Ren's forehead drops to Hux's shoulder again, every muscle in Ren's body shaking, and he lets out a low sob as he comes. Ren's cock flexes, and Hux moans as warm come settles inside him. Ren's groan against his neck rolls through Hux's body, and Hux cries out - he is filled with Ren's cock, with his sound. Hux moves his hand to his own cock, stroking himself in desperate strokes, and he follows Ren's orgasm with another of his own after a few slick motions of his hand. Ren has not stopped groaning into his shoulder, feeling Hux clench around him, the trembling of Hux's motions as he comes beneath him.
Again Hux's predictions are wrong - he expects Ren to pull away - but he doesn't, instead dropping his body down further, pressing them fully together. Ren's lips move against his neck in languid kisses, tasting his sweat. Ren has enough of his body weight supported that Hux isn't being crushed, but enough of Ren is on him that he can enjoy the grounding weight of Ren's form. So solid and real, though Hux suspects that Ren may still be made of light.
He's afraid to open his eyes and look, to again see Ren illuminated with the nebula, an image that Hux fears he'll never forget. Ren above him, the most beautiful light he could see in the season of lights, forever in the back of his mind. Ren, a god among men, divine light brought to life to blend with Hux for one moment in space.
Ren's forehead presses to Hux's, and Hux is surprised when Ren kisses his forehead – tenderly. He's not sure how to react to it, and opens his eyes. Ren is looking into his eyes, and just as Hux feared, Ren is still as he was – the brilliance of the nebula bringing forth every inch of his splendor. The nebula is highlighting the planes of Ren's face and the strands of his sweaty hair with colors that dare Hux to look away, to miss looking upon the universe's beauty written large across Ren, in Ren.
Hux doesn't look away – he lets himself see it, witness it. He looks into the prismatic colors of the universe in Ren's eyes, and Ren looks back at the colors reflected in Hux's eyes. For a moment, they are nothing but color in each other's eyes.
Eventually Ren does pull away, rolling off Hux next to him on the floor, collapsing flat on his back with an exhalation. Hux reaches out and lets his hand stroke over Ren's stomach. His nerves are alive with the lights, and he's not done touching while he's still allowed to touch. Ren hums, content to let Hux continue petting him, and Ren's hand moves to Hux's hair, stroking through it. Hux starts to protest – then remembers his hair is already wrecked, so it doesn't matter that Ren's messing up his hair. It's even better than his own fingers had been, and Hux's eyelids flicker as Ren's hand strokes over his scalp.
He allows himself to enjoy it, and slips into a doze.
***
Hux wakes up, and there's more of Ren – more of Ren's light to be lost in, and he lets himself be lost in it. The cockpit of the shuttle is bright with light but hazy in his mind, because he can only concentrate on Ren. Time doesn't mean anything to him. The feeling of Ren against his skin, against his tongue. The taste of Ren against his lips. Hux takes Ren and is taken again; sex starts and stops with no real beginning or end, and Ren is a blazing piece of starlight that he grasps in his hands.
Hux presses his palm to the face of the galaxy, and finds that it is warm.
Finally, laying on Ren's bedraggled robes on the floor, Hux fades in to real sleep as the lights dissipate in the background. Space darkens in front of the shuttle as the nebula settles back to its static state.
***
Hux wakes up, at first perplexed about where he is, running the back of his hand over his face. He's sore all over. Why is he sleeping on the floor of a shuttle like a punished cadet?
But then Ren stirs next to him, and Hux remembers. The nebula. He looks out the windows, surprised to see that the nebula has calmed. It remains full of colors, but they aren't dancing in the same way. Now the stardust is slipping past itself in a casual flow instead of a cacophonous explosion of energy, sedated after its expenditure of energy, like Ren next to him.
Hux grits his teeth. Exactly how awkward is this going to be? He's had flings before, but never with someone he was going to have to face on a regular basis – at work, no less – and definitely no fling had ever been so...intimate. He's never done anything so intimate in his entire life. The image of Ren illuminated by universal power rises in his mind, and he slides a hand over his face. That was a vision he would not be forgetting any time soon, and he doesn't want to consider the implications of his singing heart when he sees the image of Ren in his mind, an angel of light that had allowed Hux to ascend with him.
Fuck, they had been so loud. There is no way that the stormtroopers in the back hadn't heard that. Hux lays back down, not wanting to consider any of these problems. He's sore all over, and his brain is tender from the fading high.
Fucking Hutts, Hux thinks, exasperated.
Ren rolls over next to him with a soft sigh, still asleep. His hair is disheveled, and Hux sees with mortification that Ren's neck and chest is covered in hickeys. Hux's hand rises to feel his own throat, and he withdraws his fingers with a hiss when they hit tender skin. Oh yes. Just the same as Ren's, and probably worse, given the size of Ren's mouth.
Hux catches sight of the lube bottle on the floor– now empty. Ren had teased him, earlier, with the idea of him using half a bottle in five days, and they'd used half of one in hours. No wonder he feels sticky all over. A blush rises in his cheeks.
He looks back down to find Ren's eyes open. Ren is studying him with quiet concentration, not saying anything. The blush in Hux's cheeks deepen. What does he say, good morning? He watches as Ren's eyebrows draw together, and Hux scrambles for words.
“Good morning,” he says stiffly, and immediately wishes he was dead.
The familiar expression of Ren's sulkiness rises, then fades into pale distress.
“I – I thought you knew what you were doing,” Ren whispers, sitting up so fast that his head bangs on the control panel, and he winces. Ren's face is stricken as his hand rubs over the back of his head where it hit the console. Ren looks like he's going to be sick, and scoots away rapidly on his ass.
“I did!” Hux says quickly, raising a palm. “I knew what I was doing - I don't regret - it's not that,” he says, stumbling over his words. He grabs Ren's free hand before he can scoot further away. “Couldn't you read my mind?”
“Yes, but – I could tell you wanted me, but not if it was -” Ren pauses, still rubbing the back of his head. “I couldn't tell if you wanted me or the lights did,” he says.
“Well,” Hux says, swallowing heavily. “It was me. That wanted you.” And I still do, he doesn't add. He's not about to address that. “I...I was just realizing that the stormtroopers probably heard – a lot,” he continues, his cheeks flaming.
Ren looks placated, but his eyes search over Hux's face with concern. Hux feels the press of Ren's mind against his, checking to make sure he isn't lying, and Hux doesn't resist it as he normally would. You may as well be in my head after everywhere else you've been, Hux thinks. It was me. Ren blushes furiously as his mind withdraws, his hand moving back up to rub the back of his head.
“All right, then?” Hux asks. Ren nods, and now he's trying not to smile. Hux wonders belatedly if Ren had picked up the image of himself lit in starlight, and wants to bury his face in his hands. I am never going to live this down, Hux thinks.
“Maybe the troopers heard,” Ren says. “But this is my shuttle. That's a reinforced blast door.” Ren shrugs. “If it isn't as soundproof as I think, you'll have to transfer them all to Hoth,” he says solemnly.
Hux laughs, the tension in the room broken, and Ren offers him a tentative smile. Perhaps this won't be as bad as Hux had feared. Perhaps, for once, he'll get to have light in his life. He keeps his grip on Ren's hand, looking down at Ren's hand in his, and lays back down, motioning for Ren to rejoin him on the floor. Ren follows, slowly, as there's a chance that Hux is going to come to his senses if he gets too close.
They lay there for a while, in companionable silence.
“You know...it was a pretty good prank,” Hux says, rolling over on his side to face Ren.
Ren lifts himself on an elbow to stare down at Hux, incredulous. “I didn't think you had a sense of humor.”
Hux grins up at Ren. “I do. A mean one. Let's send Khandig a gracious transmission for the shortcut, and tell him that we'll be visiting together at the same time next year to renegotiate the terms of the deal. He can sweat about it for a year.”
Ren looks shocked, then pleased. His eyes search all over Hux's face for a sign that he's being taunted – teased with the idea of a future rendezvous - and when he doesn't find it, his face simmers into a grin.
“He'll never see it coming.”