Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When you close your eyes, what do you see?
Do you hold the light or is darkness underneath?
In your hands, there's a touch that can heal
But in those same hands, is the power to kill
Are you a man or a monster?

Man or a Monster by Sam Tinnesz

The first time they meet, Kylo prepares himself for a lot of things.

Disgust. Ridicule. Pretend indifference.

He’s been through this so many times. Every new person in his life means submitting himself to this overly repetitive experience. This is why he usually wears a mask—not exactly to hide; more to avoid ripping heads off for every sideways glance, every chuckle behind his back, and especially, oh, especially every pitying look.

General Hux, though, isn’t just any stranger. Whatever he may think of Kylo’s hybrid status, they are to be co-commanders, and that means working together, reporting to Snoke together, living and breathing together in a way Kylo isn’t sure he’s ready for but has no choice in the matter.

What is clear is that this arrangement requires at least a certain amount of openness between them—and that means showing his face. Sure, he could delay the inevitable, make Hux guess what lurks behind his black, polished mask, drum up the anticipation, present himself as a mystery. It could be somewhat romantic.

Except ‘romantic’ isn’t Kylo’s style. He prefers to just go and be done with it.

So when he enters Hux’s office, he takes his mask off. The General isn’t even looking at him. His attention is entirely focused on the datapad in his hand, and he swipes across the smooth screen, as if Kylo isn’t there at all. Every line of his body screams efficiency, from his neatly combed hair to the tip of a shiny boot visible from under his desk.

Kylo wants to hate him on sight, this sleek, sharp, right-angle paper-pusher in front of him, but that isn’t what Snoke requires. Snoke brought him here for cooperation, and cooperate Kylo will.

“I didn’t see you at the hangar,” he opens, then adds, after a moment’s deliberation, “General.”

Hux doesn’t glance up from his datapad.

“I was busy,” he says, clipping his vowels, as if sparing extra breath on Kylo would be outrageous. “And you aren’t exactly military.”

Kylo swallows Hux’s sneer and pushes through it, still intent on following Snoke’s orders. This is his co-commander. He ought to at least attempt to be friendly.

“It’s fine,” he says, magnanimously, in his opinion. “I’m not big on ceremony.”

He waits for Hux to react in some way. Chastise him, probably, or perhaps commiserate, if Hux also dislikes pointless ceremonies, or just make a fucking humming sound, acknowledge Kylo’s presence. Hux gives him nothing.

Kylo contemplates putting his mask back on and leaving, regretting that he can’t exactly slam a sliding door, when Hux puts his datapad down. He looks up, straight at Kylo, and for a brief but electrifying second, Kylo is confronted by the swirling green of his eyes, the color of the marbles he played with as a child, before he was told that a lightsaber was the only acceptable toy for him.

There’s passion in those eyes, so much of it, in fact, that Kylo re-evaluates the man in front of him. Perhaps General Hux isn’t a hollow, droid-like shell that exists only to give and follow orders. Perhaps those eyes hide a power that Kylo would like to have for himself, to touch and be privy to. Who knows, this man could be interesting, and not just as a curiosity but as someone on Kylo’s own level, someone with a soul tortured enough to be beautiful.

Then Hux opens his mouth, and Kylo forgets everything he just guessed about him.

“I’ve read your file,” Hux says in a tone that implies you’re the scum of the galaxy.

The fact that Kylo is used to this tone doesn’t mean he responds favorably to it.

“I’ve read yours, too,” he says. General Armitage Hux, son of an esteemed Imperial officer, the rising star of the First Order. It all looked so nice on the screen. Kylo knows how to read between the lines, though, and he saw vanity, he saw the arrogance of a spoiled child, he saw the cold shallowness of someone who’s never had to try hard for anything he’s got. He was prepared to make friends with this person anyway, because that’s what Snoke told him to do.

Hux sits with his back military straight, his arms folded on the desk before him, and his eyes, the eyes that Kylo doesn’t think about any more than he ought to, his eyes are frigid.

“So, you’re a traitor,” Hux says, sending Kylo’s mind into a spin.

At first, he thinks he’s misheard. Or, perhaps, misread the implication.

“What did you say to me?” He takes a step forward, almost ready to slam his hands onto Hux’s desk, making his precious datapad jump. He restrains himself, but only barely.

“Traitor. Turncoat. Back-stabber. Treasonist.” Hux makes each word sound like a nail hammered into a coffin. “Which do you prefer?”

Fuck friendship. This was never going to work.

“I don’t like you,” Kylo says, childishly perhaps, but sincerely.

It has no effect on Hux.

“I don’t need you to like me,” he says, evenly enough to be believable. It’s an impersonal observation, and Kylo realizes that Hux means it this way, that he’s merely doing his job right now. Somehow, it angers him even more. While he boils, Hux continues, “I need you to tell me why I should trust you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

Hux taps on his datapad. Kylo fights the urge to break it with the Force.

“Because you turned on your own people.” Hux’s tone remains neutral, but Kylo picks up the judgment in the air between them. Hux despises him, of that Kylo is sure now. “Who’s to say you won’t turn on the First Order?”

“You make it sound like changing sides is a habit.”

“Well, is it?”

Kylo has no patience for this.

“I guess we’re going to wait and fucking see, aren’t we?”

Hux frowns. Kylo mentally celebrates his victory, but then Hux speaks.

“This is not a satisfactory answer,” he says, like he’s an examination droid in school and Kylo has just failed a test.

“Tough shit,” Kylo grits out, putting his mask back on, “‘cause that’s the only answer you’re getting.”

He storms out, applying the Force to make the door slide closed a bit faster than it does by default.

Cooperation is going to be difficult.

***

He asks Snoke to reconsider. He almost pleads with his master, confident as he is that this co-commandership won’t work, not with someone so spiteful as General Hux. There’s already tension, he explains. He doesn’t say that they hate each other; they don’t have enough of a relationship for that, not yet, but he can see it in their future if they remain in proximity to each other: a strong emotion binding them together in a fatal dance, an abundance of feeling, too severe to overlook. This doesn’t bode well, he tells Snoke. This is going to be a disaster.

“Are you questioning my wisdom, Kylo Ren?” Snoke asks, guttural and all-powerful.

Kylo bows, because what else can he do?

“No, Master,” he says, and just like that, his fate is sealed.

***

For his first day of sharing the bridge with Hux, he prepares meticulously. He stands before the mirror without his mask and scrutinizes his face. It’s no wonder that Hux distrusts him—he’s a hybrid, neither here nor there, of course he can’t be trustworthy; he’s physiologically, genetically predisposed to treachery. His very body is a study in betrayal, the result of two people breaking one of the oldest taboos in the galaxy.

Fooling around across species is fine. No one would look twice at a human frequenting a Twi’lek brothel, and no one would say a word about a Trandoshan casually dating a Wookiee. That is, as long as no offspring is produced. Baby-making has to follow the strict rules of species purity; otherwise, mongrels are brought into the world, such as Kylo himself, hideous abominations that land squarely in the uncanny valley for both their parent species. And everyone else, apparently.

He has the large frame, the green skin, and the gills of his father, and he’d be considered a fine specimen of a Corellian if not for his human face. A long, protruding nose instead of neat, flat nostrils, elongated dirt-brown eyes in place of two perfect black circles, lips that don’t curl inward the way they should. Even by human standards, though, his features are oddly shaped, put together haphazardly, like he’s a painting by some avant-garde mastermind who cares little for realism. He has a wild mane of hair, thick eyebrows, and long lashes, all courtesy of his mother, who should have made better choices in her life. Otherwise, his skin is smooth and hairless, meant for a life half-submerged in the water, not stalking through spaceship corridors.

The upside is, he doesn’t need to shave. The downside, well. The downside is everything else.

He puts on his clothes, wrapping himself in black from head to toe. Not a millimeter of skin should be visible. No one, except for Hux, should know. This also means avoiding serious injury, lest some chatty medbay worker spill his secret all over the ship. For minor stuff, he can rely on Vicrul’s previous medical training, stunted as it was.

It doesn’t matter. He’ll sort it out. It’s not like he’s planning to injure himself on purpose.

The mask goes on his head, the mechanism pressurizing with a low hiss. He’s ready, his armor is complete, his day can now officially begin.

He strides through the Finalizer, trying to get used to its slickness, its chromium shine, so very much like Hux himself. This is Hux’s domain, unambiguously so, and he’s a trespasser, a foreign element, at best a guest instead of a co-commander. He tells himself it’ll pass; it’s just a matter of time; he’ll find a place for himself here.

Of course, he’s never commanded a Star Destroyer before, but he’s been a Master to his Knights, and he spent the entire last night searching the holonet for tips on how to be an effective leader. He can do it. Whatever is required of him, he can pull it off, or he isn’t Kylo fucking Ren.

He makes sure he isn’t late. Just as the alpha shift chime sounds, he steps onto the bridge, and Hux is already there, his hands clasped behind his back, surveying his territory. He’s immaculate, again, from the cap on his head to the heels of his boots. Kylo wants to take his perfect spine and break it in half. He also wants to see Hux’s eyes again, just to check if they’re still that mesmerizing shade of green.

“Good morning, General,” he says, striding up to stand next to Hux.

Hux doesn’t look at him. Kylo turns his head, so it’s obvious even with his mask that he’s staring at Hux, awaiting a reaction.

“Did you need something, Ren?” Hux asks after a long, thick minute of tension.

“A greeting would be nice.” The mask modulates Kylo’s voice into a menacing growl, but Hux doesn’t seem intimidated.

“Hm.” His gaze stays focused on the screen in front of him. “We’re in the wrong quadrant,” he mutters, frowning. “Lieutenant Mitaka!” His voice rings across the bridge, and Kylo finds himself wanting to obey it, even though it’s not directed at him.

A frightened-looking man scurries toward Hux, standing at attention in front of him. He’s got dark hair and boring brown eyes, an unremarkable face, and a Force signature drenched in subservience. This wouldn’t be Kylo’s first choice of an aide, but Hux must have his own reasons. Or, and Kylo smirks inside his helmet at the thought, Hux might simply be a poor judge of character.

“Why are we in the wrong quadrant, Lieutenant?” Hux asks the man, nodding at the map on the display.

“There was a collision, sir. On our path, sir. An asteroid. Sir.” Listening to Mitaka is painful, but Hux doesn’t look like he minds, waiting patiently for the lieutenant to get the words out. Kylo would’ve already strangled the man and found a replacement. “We couldn’t risk flying through the debris, sir.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?” Hux asks, as if that’s the most important facet of the situation.

“You’re being informed now,” Kylo points out, and finally, Hux looks at him. The rage in his eyes makes them look more blue than green.

“The course was corrected during your rest cycle, s-sir.” Mitaka appears to be shaking in his boots. Kylo wants to put him out of his misery. It would be a kindness, really.

“Next time, wake me up,” Hux orders. When Mitaka leaves with a terrified yessir, he adds, under his breath, “Not that I sleep much anyway.”

Maybe Kylo is supposed to feel pity for the overworked general. More likely, though, he wasn’t supposed to hear the remark at all.

Once Hux has finished checking the displays in front of him, he walks down the stairs to the lower deck and starts moving around the room, checking in with every single person on duty. Kylo watches the unfolding situation with increasing incredulity. Hux actually stops by every workstation, asks questions, and waits for answers, like the worst chopter manager from the cautionary articles Kylo read last night.

Kylo hangs back, keeping his position at the commander’s station, a looming shadowy presence on the bridge, which, in his mind, is a much more effective management style than whatever Hux is doing.

“I thought you were a professional,” he says, amused, when Hux returns and stands next to him.

“Excuse me?” Hux is a shard of ice. His eyes are vicious.

“Micromanaging your team like that?” Kylo nods in the direction of Hux’s underlings. “Doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“You think that was micromanagement?” Hux returns the amusement, although with much more acid in it. “Read a couple of articles on the holonet, did you?” He scoffs. “I build trust with my team. They know I care, and so they do too.”

“I don’t think that’s what they tell each other when you aren’t listening.” The remark about the holonet articles stung, so Kylo takes their argument further. He won’t let Hux win so easily.

“I have it on good authority that that’s exactly what they tell each other.” Hux is smug, it’s in every line of his body, in the simple confidence of his shoulders, the casual straightness of his back. He’s in his element here, and Kylo wants to lift him with the Force and throw him into the viewport.

“If you say so,” he says, which sounds like a peace offering but isn’t. He turns around and sweeps off the bridge, his cape flapping behind him. Hux doesn’t try to stop him.

Clearly, this co-commandership is a joke.

Except he doesn’t find it funny.

He doesn’t find it funny at all.

***

His Knights arrive at the end of beta shift. He called for them to discuss their paths in view of this new arrangement, which, in theory, will leave him tied to the Finalizer most of the time. Snoke hasn’t given him any instructions regarding his future, except for building a working relationship with General Hux, so he decides to improvise. At least with the Knights, though, he doesn’t have to improvise alone.

They occupy Rec Room 6, on the same level as his own rooms. The Knights spread across the available surfaces like black oil, filling the space with their presence. It feels familiar to Kylo, in the best possible way. This is his family, his real family, six people who will do anything for him, and for whom he will do anything in return. He doesn’t know if the bond between them can be called love; that word seems too loaded for the connection they all share. Love presupposes baggage, love means jealousy, love comes hand in hand with hatred, and that doesn’t exist in this room. There’s only knowledge of each other, knowledge and gratitude and acceptance.

His Knights are all monsters in their own way. Ap’lek is half-human themself. Vicrul snapped the neck of his first master, the medical man who tried to dissuade him from learning how to kill as well as how to heal. Ushar was born into a line of pacifist priests but betrayed his creed to become a warrior. Cardo murdered his brother in a fit of envy. Trudgen had an affair with his twin sister until she killed herself. Kuruk… well, Kuruk’s past is, apparently, too dark to talk about.

Kylo loves this about them. They’re all creatures of darkness, and with them, he doesn’t have to pretend.

“We sense disturbance in your spirit, Master,” Vicrul says, and Kylo is reminded that he can’t lie to them either.

“That man infuriates me,” he says, words made heavy by his vocoder. It’s not often that he confesses his feelings so freely, but these are his Knights. First, they deserve to know; second, they’ll know anyway. “General Hux.” He lets the syllables linger on his tongue. There’s a ring to that name, something sinister that makes Kylo’s hackles rise. “I dislike him.”

“Why?” Ushar asks, tilting his mask to the side.

This is an easy one.

“He thinks himself above me,” Kylo explains. The Knights will realize the gravity of Hux’s trespass. They will understand Kylo’s ire. More than that, they will share it.

“He’s hardly the first one, though,” Ap’lek points out with their habitual nonchalance. If it was anyone else, Kylo would have bristled, but Ap’lek gets a pass. Through their shared misfortune of birth, Kylo knows exactly what Ap’lek means and what they’re saying.

Hux isn’t the first to disapprove of Kylo’s existence. But no one has irked Kylo quite as much as he does. Kylo looks inside himself, trying to find the reason for this uncharacteristic obsession.

“He’s very open about it,” he says finally, and knows it to be true. Others, apart from his actual enemies, at least attempted a veneer of politeness, eager to ascertain their self-image as progressive and broad-minded. Hux did none of that, letting his disgust drip off his every word, soak through his every glance, mingle with his every gesture.

Ap’lek huffs behind their mask.

“Well, that’s just impolite,” they drawl, half joking, half honestly disapproving.

“The rude must be eaten,” Kuruk barges into the discussion from where he’s installed in the far corner of the room.

Rumors say that Kuruk used to consume the flesh of his fallen enemies. The rumors have never been substantiated; they have never been disproved either.

“I can’t eat the General,” Kylo says patiently. “I can’t even kill him.”

“Why?” Ushar asks again.

“I don’t really know,” Kylo confesses, surprising himself. It’s not often that his own motivations remain a mystery to him. Usually, he knows exactly what he’s doing; at least, that’s what he tells himself. “It’s the Supreme Leader’s orders.”

The Knights exchange glances from behind their masks.

“Make it look like an accident,” Ap’lek suggests.

“We’ll help,” Trudgen offers, standing up from the armchair he’s been sprawled in.

Kylo is touched. He’s expected as much of his Knights, knowing them as well as he does, but he’s still moved by their loyalty. As long as he has them, what does he care about some pinch-faced General?

“Thank you,” he says, bowing to the center of the room. “But it won’t be necessary. I’ll play the long game with this asshole.”

“He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight,” Cardo grunts. Kylo takes that as approval.

“But how will you know who won?” Vicrul asks, switching the hold on his scythe.

“That’ll be easy.” Kylo smirks behind his mask, and he knows his Knights will hear it. “Someone will die. I can feel it in the Force.”

“Let the Force decide, then,” Vicrul agrees.

“Let the Force decide,” they all say in unison, and Kylo feels a thrill go through him at this manifestation of their sacred oneness, an unbreakable bond, something true and real in his life.

They discuss their logistics, agreeing that Kylo will join them on their missions only if Snoke orders him to, at least until they understand their new circumstances better. It pains Kylo to stay away from his Knights for such an indefinite period of time. He longs for their camaraderie, especially after sampling Hux’s venomous distaste.

He stays talking to them well into gamma shift. Cardo has new insights about the Force, as usual, and Ap’lek has a seemingly infinite supply of anecdotes from their adventures before joining the Knights. By consensus, no one asks Kuruk anything, and they all can feel his gratefulness through their Force connection.

Someone knocks on the door just as Trudgen starts singing his usual song of lost love and longing.

“Anyone expecting anyone?” Kylo asks, irritated at the interruption. Trudgen has a good voice, and his vocoder makes it downright ethereal. The Knights all shake their heads.

Tsking, he walks toward the door and swishes it open. There’s Lieutenant Mitaka again, looking like a mouse who’s just run into a particularly hungry loth-cat.

“Sir,” he greets Kylo, attempting to stand straighter.

“What the fuck do you need?” Kylo snarls at him.

“General Hux, sir,” Mitaka says, and Kylo wants to punch him—whether Mitaka or the General, he isn’t too sure. “He asked me to make sure, sir. That you remember, sir.”

“Remember what?”

“The meeting. Sir. Tomorrow morning, sir. In Conference Room One.” Mitaka swallows the last sir, shaking under Kylo’s glare.

Kylo’s fingers twitch in the direction of his lightsaber.

Shhhh, a soothing sensation brushes at his mind. It’s Vicrul, observing the situation intently, always there to calm Kylo down, to save him from rash decisions and thoughtless choices.

He’s right, of course. It’s not the Lieutenant’s fault. If Kylo does murder anyone for this insult, he should focus his ire on the man who gave the humiliating order.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” he says icily, closing the door in Mitaka’s blanched face. He turns toward his Knights and spreads his arms, inviting them to witness the extent of General Hux’s nastiness. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

“That was extremely disrespectful,” Vicrul says with a nod. Kylo feels the soothing sensation again and nods back.

“Yeah, the guy’s a prick,” Ap’lek joins in, slapping their knees.

“Death,” Kuruk adds his judgment to the mix.

The rest of the Knights murmur their agreement.

Their bloodthirsty inclinations paradoxically mitigate Kylo’s own desire for murder. He’ll go to that damned meeting. He’ll look Hux in the eye. He’ll find something worse than death for him.

“Patience,” he tells his Knights, and feels their surprise in the Force.

“You are not one to advocate for patience, Master,” Vicrul notes, but it’s a barbless observation, not intended to find fault with him.

“I’m trying something new.” Kylo grins. “Good night, my friends.”

The Knights murmur their good nights, and he turns around to walk out of the room.

When he lies down to sleep that night, he feels excited, brimming with anticipation, eager to see what the next day brings.

In short, he feels good.

***

Walking to his first High Command meeting, the one in Conference Room One, Kylo decides he’ll try. Maybe one last time, but he will. At the very least, he will listen to what General Hux says with a fresh, unbiased ear and make fresh, unbiased conclusions.

He’s Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, the second most powerful person in the First Order. Surely he can manage some basic diplomacy.

Hux is already seated at the conference table, of course, but he neither greets Kylo nor even glances his way, keeping his eyes on his datapad, which seems like a permanent part of his body. He nods acknowledgement at each of the other generals as their holograms appear, but makes no small talk. His seat is opposite Kylo’s, so Kylo expects Hux to look at him at some point, at least involuntarily. He won’t admit it to anyone, but he wants to know whether Hux’s eyes are more green or blue under this light.

It’s a purely philosophical question. It has nothing to do with the reality of their co-commandership.

“Generals,” Snoke’s voice comes through as his hologram appears at the head of the table. “My apprentice.” He nods at Kylo, and that’s when Kylo notices a faint smirk on Hux’s face. The General still isn’t looking at him.

Kylo bows stiffly to Snoke, while the generals salute their Supreme Leader. Hux’s datapad is still on the table, though he has stopped swiping at it. At least Snoke can command some respect from this arrogant asshole.

As the holographic generals present their reports, Kylo’s mind works to connect the threads they’re presenting. The First Order is doing better than one could expect from a fringe organization. The piracy problem in the Ilum system has been mitigated by General Griss, leaving the territory open for the Order’s projects. General Quinn reports considerable progress in conquering other systems in the Unknown Regions, which provides the First Order with many extra recruits. According to General Engell, the stormtrooper program is performing excellently, with conditioned troopers testing well for combat effectiveness and loyalty to the Order. General Pryde has secured funding from the Corporate Sector Authority, which earns an especially appreciative nod from Snoke. Everything seems to be going well. This war machine that they’re all building—it’s growing up healthy, though not without its teething issues.

“I’m worried about the Resistance,” General Parnadee says when it’s her turn. “They look like they’re gaining strength.”

“Elaborate,” Snoke demands. His facial expressions aren’t easy to read, but Kylo knows when he’s frowning.

“We’ve had a few skirmishes with them over the past week.” She brings up a holographic galaxy map and points out the places where the battles occurred. Some of them are disturbingly close to the Mid Rim. “My Captain reports seeing new X-Wing models.”

“Better?” Snoke asks.

General Parnadee nods. “Lighter, faster. And their pilots are becoming more skilled.”

“We must crush the Resistance once and for all,” Kylo says, and the entire room falls silent. Snoke’s hologram turns to look at him, but his face isn’t one of reprimand. He’s listening, indulging his apprentice, and Kylo swallows in sudden shame. “They interfere with our goals,” he continues, grateful for his vocoder. “Therefore, they must be annihilated. For the good of the First Order.”

As he finishes his last two words, General Hux finally looks at him. His eyes are blazing green.

“The First Order is not interested in your family squabbles, Kylo Ren,” Hux spits, his emphasis on Kylo’s name mocking, disgracing. “Supreme Leader.” He turns to Snoke, and Snoke cocks his flickering head at him. “We need to focus on expanding our military superiority. Intimidation is the clearest and quickest path to victory.”

“We don’t look very intimidating with these fire gnats flying around, doing whatever the fuck they want,” Kylo grumbles, his hands balling into fists on the desk before him.

Hux’s eyes flash.

“If we focus on small things, we will ourselves become small,” he scoffs, glaring at Kylo, then turns back to Snoke. “My plans are almost completed. We will have the supreme weapon soon.”

Kylo hasn’t heard anything about any weapons, but he thinks he can guess what’s happening.

“Are you really following the Tarkin doctrine?” he asks Hux, incredulous. “Do I need to remind you what happened to Tarkin and his precious weapon in the end?”

“Do I need to remind you what happened to your grandfather?” Hux throws back, poisonous and infuriatingly right.

“Enough,” Snoke says, waving his holographic arms in front of him. Kylo sits back. Hux looks away from him. A muscle in his jaw moves, and Kylo knows their fight isn’t finished, only postponed until they aren’t under direct supervision anymore.

“I think Commander Ren is correct,” General Parnadee ventures, but Snoke shuts her up with a glare.

“Both General Hux and my apprentice are correct,” Snoke says in his deep, measured voice. “Therefore, you, General Parnadee, will focus on learning more about the Resistance, their current capabilities, and their future strategies. You, General Hux, will continue working on your project.” Hux’s face looks triumphant when Snoke places an extra emphasis on the last word. There’s some secret between them, and Kylo needs to find out what it is. “The rest of you,” Snoke goes on, “continue the good work. Dismissed.”

His hologram flickers out, and the generals murmur their goodbyes, flickering out as well, until Kylo and Hux are the only people left in the room.

“Hux,” Kylo says, not quite sure of what he’s going to say to him, but needing at least the prospect of an actual conversation.

The General is already absorbed by his datapad, swiping away at the screen.

“Hux.” Kylo raises his hand and flicks his wrist, making the datapad slide along the table out of Hux’s hands.

“Ren.” Hux sighs and leans his elbows on the table, massaging his temples. “Whatever do you need?”

“A bit of respect, for starters.”

“You have all the respect I care to give you.”

Kylo feels blood rush to his face. He could snap the neck of this insufferable jerk with a thought, and yet he must sit here and endure Hux’s jabs and try to make this relationship work somehow.

“We’re supposed to be co-commanders,” Kylo says, gesturing at the space where Snoke’s hologram was hovering just a minute ago.

“Well, I’m not stopping you.” Hux’s mouth is a thin, sharp line. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” He stands up, collects his datapad, and walks out of the room, his back straight, his hair slicked to perfection.

Kylo never comes to the bridge on time afterwards. Most days, he doesn’t go to the bridge at all.

Chapter Text

There are rumors, of course. That he’s some kind of Force version of the Mandalorians. That he’s terribly disfigured and needs the helmet to breathe. That he’s just plain ugly. All courtesy of the mask, obviously, and all adding to his status as a scary monster one shouldn’t interact with unless strictly necessary.

See, General, Kylo thinks with a sneer. He knows something about intimidation.

He also thinks about General Hux a lot. Frankly, much more than he should.

It’s been a year since Kylo was assigned to the Finalizer, and his relationship with the General only grew worse over time. Hux still doesn’t greet Kylo when he enters the room, he talks over Kylo during their shared meetings, and he barely tells Kylo anything about the ship’s operations. Their co-commandership is a joke; Hux runs the ship himself and reacts negatively whenever Kylo attempts to exercise his own power.

Missions with the Knights have been a reprieve, although scarcer than before Kylo’s new position. Ap’lek’s easy chatter, Cardo’s borrowed wisdom, Vicrul’s gentle companionship—those are the things Kylo sorely misses on the Finalizer, where he’s alone with himself, feared by everyone except Hux who, apparently, despises him.

This is what makes him interesting to Kylo—or, at least, the most interesting thing on board this stupid ship. Hux isn’t afraid of him, isn’t cowering before Kylo’s undisputable might, isn’t shaking in his boots when Kylo raises his arm and crooks his fingers.

“What will you do, choke me?” Hux sneered at him that first time, when Kylo lost his temper and wanted nothing more but to murder the cheeky asshole.

“What if I do?” Kylo challenged, arm in the air, the Force ready to tighten around Hux’s throat.

“Then you’ll be a coward,” Hux responded, venom splashing in his stars-damned green eyes. “One who chooses an unfair fight because he’s afraid he will lose otherwise.”

The words still ring in Kylo’s ears.

He roams the Finalizer’s corridors, a black shadow, surrounded by an aura of malice, and he finds what joy he can in the terrified reactions of regular people around him. His favorite is Lieutenant Mitaka, who scares so easily, but never talks back and wouldn’t dare accuse Kylo of being a lesser man. Mitaka’s neck bears more than one imprint of Kylo’s Force fingers.

One day, Hux storms into his quarters, his code cylinder overriding Kylo’s lock, which is a security flaw Kylo needs to investigate.

“You will not touch Lieutenant Mitaka again,” Hux hisses, planting his feet wide in the middle of Kylo’s hall.

Kylo, who’d been lounging on his couch, flicking through the holos on his datapad, mask off, considers the man before him. It’s the first time that Hux has actively sought him out, and Kylo wants to make the most of it, even though he doesn’t quite know what he can gain out of this interaction.

“I have not laid a finger on him,” Kylo says lazily, swiping at his datapad, watching Hux out of the corner of his eye. Let the jerk know how that feels.

Hux narrows his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?” Kylo swipes at his datapad again. He’s lost the holo he wanted to watch, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll find it again.

“The Lieutenant is a valuable part of my team,” Hux says through his teeth. “He will be treated with the same respect as myself, or—”

“Or what, General?” Kylo lets out an exaggerated sigh and puts the datapad screen-down on his chest. He rolls his head so that he faces Hux, eyelids drooping and lips curled. “Do you have an actual threat up your sleeve or is this all just empty bravado?”

Hux walks up to him until he’s looming over the couch, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing blue in pure rage.

“I will make your life miserable,” he says in a cold, steely whisper. “I will turn your every waking moment into a catastrophe and every other moment into a nightmare. I will make sure Snoke knows all about your multiple shortcomings, and I will make sure he decides he doesn’t need such a poor excuse for an apprentice. I will make sure you lose everything you care about, and I will have fun doing it. Do you hear me, Ren?”

Whether the threat is realistic or not, Hux sounds confident in his power to deliver on it, and Kylo finds himself having trouble swallowing. Something lodges in his throat, and he has to gulp around it. He balls his hands into fists, just to make sure that his fingers still work. His legs feel chilly, and his stomach twists in a nasty knot.

He puts the datapad away and rises from the couch, thinking Hux will take a step back, but Hux stands his ground, so they end up nose to nose, Kylo’s height advantage almost imperceptible.

“I hear you, General,” Kylo rumbles. Hux’s expression doesn’t change. “Now leave and take your empty threats with you.”

“I will leave my threats with you,” Hux responds haughtily. “But I will gladly escape your company.”

He turns around, his military heels clicking, and strides out of the room, letting the door swish closed behind him. Kylo takes his datapad and falls back onto his couch, but the mood for holos is gone now. All he wants to do is plot Hux’s ultimate demise, even if he knows that such dreams are to remain idle fantasies.

Still, it’s nice to imagine his lightsaber piercing Hux’s chest, the red blade sticking out of his back, final and uncompromising. The look on his face—oh, it would be priceless.

He spends his days entertaining himself like that, his mind revolving around Hux, his dreams filled with Hux, his memories drifting toward Hux over and over again. When he deigns to visit the bridge, he relishes Hux’s glare, especially when he contributes his own insights, which turn out to be valuable more often than not. He might not have a lot of experience commanding a Star Destroyer, but he isn’t stupid, and his Chandrillan education included some training in military strategy and related subjects. Whenever he’s correct, he feels a spike in Hux’s hatred through the Force, and he learns to enjoy these outbursts since they prove one important thing: he can get under Hux’s skin.

The next time they clash, he’s not on the bridge but right in the middle of a dogfight, taking down agile pirate ships that have been plaguing the Bith system in the Outer Rim. It’s a precision job, and he excels at it, landing more shots than any other TIE fighter in the formation. The modifications he’d made to his Silencer fighter help, too.

But these are small fry. He wants to hit the big bad boy, the pirate mothership, at least take its cannons out while it struggles to penetrate the Finalizer’s shields.

“Keep firing!” he shouts into his transmitter, then breaks away from the line of TIEs and zigzags through the space toward the prize.

He doesn’t get far before a miniature hologram of Hux appears before him. Hux must have left the bridge to start a secure line to him, unwilling to have a public fight with his supposed co-commander. Kylo wonders who’s leading the battle now.

“Ren,” Hux spits. “Return to the formation.” The hologram washes out his colors, and his eyes look a terrible, pale blue.

“Why should I?” Kylo continues on his course, evading the shots blazing through the black space.

“So the other fighters can cover you.” Hux clips his words tight, visibly unhappy with having to cajole Kylo into relative safety.

“Why do you care?” Just a bit more and Kylo will be in the range.

“Believe it or not, you are my co-commander,” Hux snarls. “It won’t do for you to get killed because of your recklessness. It won’t reflect well on me.”

Kylo fires. Two of the mothership’s cannons blow up.

“Did you see that?” he asks smugly.

Hux rubs his temples. “Show-off,” he mutters, and Kylo finds himself preening. “Return to the formation, that is my final order.”

“You can’t give me orders,” Kylo points out, but he starts pulling back. Pirates aren’t worth the risk, after all. “We are the same rank.”

“You don’t have a rank.” Hux glances behind him, then turns back to Kylo. “I must get back to the bridge. Don’t do that again. And pretend like we were discussing tactics.”

“Who has the bridge right now?”

“Captain Phasma. I must go.” For a second, Hux looks like he’s reluctant to cut off the connection, but the second passes and he flickers out.

For all the antagonism, this exchange almost seemed friendly, and Kylo wonders what it means for their ever worsening relationship. Perhaps it doesn’t mean anything, he thinks as he shoots down brightly painted pirate vessels. Red, yellow, blue. A couple of purple ones. It doesn’t matter. Hux can’t be admiring Kylo’s piloting because Hux doesn’t admire anything about Kylo. Likewise, Kylo can’t be seeking Hux’s approval because the only thing he’s seeking, where Hux is concerned, is how to squeeze the life out of the karking prick.

They only lose one TIE in the skirmish with the pirates, and the Bith system gratefully opens their planets to them, agreeing to provide them with money and resources. Another day, another job well done, another victory for the Order.

After sonicing the sweat off his skin, Kylo wraps himself into a new set of robes and stretches out on his couch. The excitement of the dogfight still sings in his body, making him restless. He could go to the training room, let off some steam there, but the thought bores him. His mind demands something new, something scandalous, something he hasn’t done before.

He wonders whether his code cylinder can open the doors to Hux’s quarters just like Hux’s opened his.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s snatched up his helmet and marched across the commander’s level of the ship toward the rooms assigned to General Hux. He presses his cylinder to the door and it swishes open, confirming his suspicions.

Hux is standing inside, still in full uniform except for the cap. The sight of his hair shocks Kylo. He should have gotten used to it by now, but its unapologetic redness continues to befuddle him. It’s like staring at an open flame—pointless, mesmerizing, potentially dangerous.

“Ren?” Hux’s hands are frozen at the top of his jacket. He must have been getting ready to undress. “What are you doing here?”

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd? That our cylinders can open each other’s doors?” Kylo tosses his cylinder up in the air, catching it idly.

“It’s logical,” Hux says, slowly lowering his hands. “If something were to happen to one of us, the other should have access.”

“To retrieve the body?” Kylo chuckles at the idea. Hux wouldn’t even be able to lift him, most probably.

“Something like that.” Hux’s eyes are pure green now, boring into Kylo.

“Do you mind if I take this off?” Without waiting for permission, Kylo unlatches his mask and sighs as he breathes unfiltered air through his nose.

Hux doesn’t flinch at the sight of his green skin. His face remains a mask of mild displeasure.

“You still didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

“Perhaps I wanted to celebrate,” Kylo offers, the idea ridiculous. “Raise a glass to our successful co-commandership.”

“I don’t drink,” Hux says coldly. “And I wouldn’t call that successful.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Me having to abandon my post to deal with your childish escapade.” The venom again, dripping off Hux like he’s some overgrown reptile from the deep jungles of Belkadan.

“I took out two ventral cannons.”

“Which posed no threat to us,” Hux parries. “Your actions may have led to the loss of FM-2376.”

“Do you remember the numbers of all the troopers?”

“Do you not?”

Kylo’s fingers tighten over the edge of his mask. This is irrecoverable. Their relationship is unsalvageable. He will always want to strangle Hux. Hux will always want to spit on him.

“This was a mistake.” He puts his mask on and turns away.

“I expected nothing else from you,” Hux throws at his back, and Kylo stops short. Anger rises in him, boiling through his skin, demanding an outlet.

He powers on his lightsaber and stalks toward Hux. Hux cocks his head at him, lips curled in a sneer, but his skin goes a shade paler.

“Are you going to finally murder me, Ren?” Hux’s voice is full of mockery, and Kylo knows he can’t just strike him down. Snoke won’t stand for it, Snoke still sees some value in this stars-cursed asshole, but he needs to take his rage out on something.

He steps around Hux, towards the ice-blue couch behind him. With a few long strokes, he cuts the couch into four pieces, filling the room with the stench of singed fabric.

“Congratulations, Ren. You’ve won a fight with a couch.”

Kylo roars. In a swift slide, he brings the sizzling blade of his lightsaber next to Hux’s face. Hux must feel the heat of it on his skin, but he still doesn’t flinch.

“Are you done?” he asks, sounding bored.

Gritting his teeth, Kylo puts the lightsaber down and depowers it. Without another word, he strides out of Hux’s room, comforted only by the steady wave of hatred flowing his way through the Force from Hux.

Perhaps some things aren’t supposed to change. Perhaps this is their destiny, the strong emotion that Kylo predicted after their very first meeting.

Whatever it is, he tells himself he doesn’t care. Hux can go and throw himself out of an airlock, as far as Kylo is concerned.

When a small voice whispers inside his head that he would miss the intensity of Hux’s withering green stare, he barks at it to shut up.

***

The Finalizer is in the middle of attacking a Resistance cruiser when Kylo decides to grace the bridge with his presence. It’s a poorly outfitted cruiser, and they only have five or six X-wings to protect them, so Kylo isn’t required on the battlefield—regular TIEs can handle the situation without much trouble. Hux is standing at his usual position, overseeing the battle, his back ramrod straight, and Kylo wonders idly whether he’d snap in half if he tried to bend down.

“Everything going well, General?” he asks, voice dull through the mask.

“As expected,” Hux says, but something in his tone bothers Kylo. He glances at the displays, but the data they show is all good. They’re winning. This bunch of the Resistance fighters will be pulverized soon. “Did you want something, Ren?”

Hux sounds strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. Kylo looks him over, grateful for the safety of his mask. Hux’s skin looks paler than usual, his forehead shiny with sweat. Before Kylo can notice anything else, Hux sways on his feet and grips the console in front of him with both hands.

“General?” Kylo takes a step toward him, stops himself. This is none of his business. And yet. “Are you all right?”

“F-fine.” Hux grits his teeth and holds himself upright. He’s struggling, and his Force signature is pure chaos. “Mind the bridge for a bit, will you, co-commander?”

As Kylo considers how to react to this unusual request, Hux releases the console and staggers backward, jamming a finger down his collar and tugging it away from his neck, as if it’s suffocating him. Then, while Kylo is still deliberating, Hux’s eyes roll up, he starts forming a word and collapses without finishing it.

For a second, Kylo stands over him, uncomprehending.

“Hux?” He pokes the General’s body with the tip of his boot.

Hux doesn’t move.

Without thinking, Kylo kneels by his side and puts two fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. Hux’s heartbeat is weak but present, but it isn’t what shocks Kylo. Now that he’s touching the General, he can feel a massive Force presence emanating from his body, almost like he’s a pile of raw kyber, suffused with the Force. It confounds Kylo for a moment. Instinctively, he wants to get closer, to feel this enormous source of power, to bask in it and make it his own in some way.

“Is something wrong?” a metallic voice reaches him from above.

He looks around. The bridge has gone quiet. Captain Phasma is standing over him, her chrome helmet tilted to the side. She’s asked him a question. He needs to find an answer, and quickly.

Standing up, he lifts his arm, fingers pinched together.

“None of you have seen anything,” he commands, pouring the Force into his words, making sure it reaches everyone on the bridge. As much as he wants to gloat at Hux’s public incompetence, they’re still co-commanders, and whatever happens to one of them might damage the prestige of the other. If Hux is simply suffering from lack of sleep, Kylo isn’t losing any reputation points over it. “Captain Phasma.” He looks straight at the woman, adding more persuasion to his voice. “Take over the bridge. General Hux and I have something to discuss in private.”

“Affirmative, Commander Ren.” She snaps a salute and takes her place at the head of the bridge, already barking orders. Kylo trusts her to handle one measly cruiser and a rapidly diminishing bunch of fighters.

He returns to Hux’s body, lying on the durasteel floor. No one’s paying them any attention, the Force keeping everyone’s minds away.

“What should I do with you?” Kylo muses aloud, considering Hux’s prone form.

If Hux is dying, then shouldn’t Kylo rejoice? He’s been dreaming of this day for so long. Granted, he’s usually imagined himself being the cause of Hux’s untimely demise, not Hux’s own negligence or an illness—or whatever it is. This feels like cheating. This isn’t fair. He should get to make Hux grovel on the floor, licking his boots, begging him for mercy.

He remembers Hux tugging on his collar, and his hands move to the top of Hux’s jacket of their own accord. For better or for worse, he starts undoing the clasps. If he wants to murder Hux, doesn’t he need the General to be alive for that?

It’s weak logic, but he isn’t sure that logic is what’s guiding him right now.

Hux’s chest is rising and falling too rapidly, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. Kylo loosens his collar and goes lower, uncovering the top of Hux’s chest. He expects sickly, milky pale skin, but what he sees instead makes him freeze.

Scales.

Hux’s skin under his jacket is covered in scales.

Neat, circular scales. Lightly ridged to the touch. Actual, inhuman scales.

Kylo stifles a hysterical laugh. Hux, the poster boy of the First Order, the symbol of everything neat and proper, the ultimate human being in all respects valued by galactic society—is not fully human.

In fact, it makes total sense. Whenever Hux threatened him, he could’ve promised to leak Kylo’s half-breed status to everyone on the ship, but he never went there. Whatever taunts Hux threw Kylo’s way, not once did he mention the color of his skin or the shape of his nose or the presence of his gills. Regardless of the hatred simmering between them like old stew, Hux made sure that one thing, the thing that haunts Kylo the most, was left untouched.

Now Kylo knows why.

The scales under Hux’s jacket are beautiful. They twinkle along his collarbones, glittering in all colors available to Kylo’s half-human eyes. He wants to trace them, a sudden tenderness descending on him like a gossamer thread, making him long to touch Hux gently, carefully, like an ancient treasure.

Hux’s hand snaps up, twisting his wrist painfully.

“What,” he pants, “the fuck,” his syllables come out strained, “do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are two narrow slits, but the fury in them is palpable.

“You collapsed,” Kylo says, and for the first time in his life he’s annoyed at his vocoder. It washes out the care from his voice. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Fuck you,” Hux gasps, “and your help.”

“Can you stand?” Kylo asks instead of rising to the bait. While he waits for an answer, he re-fastens Hux’s jacket, hiding his scales from any inquisitive eyes.

Hux wriggles on the floor, trying to prop himself up, but he’s obviously too weak for that. Before Kylo can ask him anything else, he’s losing consciousness again, head lolling to the side, his lips contorted around a half-formed word.

Without further deliberation, Kylo picks Hux up and carries him to the medbay, wiping the memories of everyone he meets on the way.

“General Hux is feeling ill,” he announces to the nurse on duty when he reaches the medbay. She presses a few buttons, then leads him to a private room where he deposits Hux on a neatly made cot.

“We can take it from here, Commander Ren,” the nurse says when he doesn’t leave the room.

He wants to snap at her, tell her that he’s staying, but he can’t give a good reason for it. Not for the nurse—he doesn’t care to justify his actions to her; no, the problem lies in justifying his actions to himself.

Why does he want to remain here? Doesn’t he hate Hux? Or is he hoping Hux dies and doesn’t want to miss the spectacle?

Maybe he doesn’t want to miss the chance to take a last look at those flaring green eyes.

“Commander Ren,” the nurse addresses him hesitantly again. “I need… I need to prepare General Hux for examination.” She shifts toward the cot but is visibly afraid to go any further.

“Do it, then,” Ren commands, a simple order, not strengthened by the Force.

The nurse keeps hesitating.

“But, sir… The General’s orders are…”

Hux stirs on the cot, his eyelids heavy, his lips dry. He clutches at his stomach and moans in pain. Immediately, Kylo rushes to his side, stopping short of taking his hand. He looms awkwardly over the cot, not quite sure what he’s doing, knowing only that he has to do something.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as if Hux is in any condition to diagnose himself.

Hux mumbles something that he can’t hear. He leans down, bringing his ear next to Hux’s lips.

“Say it again,” he urges, suddenly desperate not to miss a single word.

“Get… out…” Hux hisses. “Get out. Get out!” He almost yells the last one, but he’s too weak to properly raise his voice.

Kylo springs back as if slapped. After what he’s just done for Hux, he didn’t really expect gratitude, but at least some recognition, some melting of the ice between them, some mellowing of the mutual distaste. Especially now that Kylo knows they share more than just a post on this ship.

Hux leans over the edge of the cot and dry heaves. He must have skipped breakfast, because nothing comes out of his digestive tract, but it’s still painful to watch. The nurse slides past Kylo with a small bucket, holding it under Hux’s head just in case.

“Sir, only medical staff are—”

“Proceed,” Kylo cuts her off with a magnanimous wave of his hand. “I’m leaving.”

He turns around and stalks out of the medbay, and as he heads back to the bridge, he tries to figure out whether he’s worried about Hux or about himself. He feels hurt by Hux’s rejection of his concern, but he doesn’t quite understand why he’s concerned at all.

Hating Hux has been the staple of his existence for the past year. All his thoughts have been about Hux, in one way or another. Without him, does Kylo even exist?

He doesn’t like this question. He doesn’t like that the answer is so obvious either.

“Commander Ren.” Phasma interrupts his thoughts, appearing before him in all her chromium glory.

He glances around. They’re standing at the entrance to the bridge. She’s been waiting for him, most likely.

“How’s the attack going?” he asks, intending to move past her and see with his own eyes. She steps to the side, blocking his way. “Captain?” If it’s a mutiny, he really isn’t in the mood.

“The attack has been successful,” Phasma reports dully, as if the sentence is a fly she needs to swat out of her way as quickly as possible. “How is General Hux?”

Kylo narrows his eyes behind his mask. He distinctly remembers mind-tricking her.

“What do you mean?” It’s best to find out what she knows before he alters her memory. He doesn’t want to accidentally make things worse.

“You said you had something to discuss in private,” she repeats the lie he’s fed her. “Then I saw you carrying him off the bridge. He didn’t look well.”

“I see.” He raises his arm, but she catches his wrist in a display of unforgivable impertinence.

“No,” she says briskly, like someone correcting a misbehaving charhound. “Don’t, sir. I can and will be discreet. I am concerned about General Hux, that is all.”

He considers her. Hux trusts this woman, has been trusting her with his beloved ship’s bridge. He probably trusts her with his life. From what Kylo knows about Hux, he values loyalty above all, and if he keeps Phasma close, she must have that quality in abundance—unlike Kylo, apparently, whom Hux labeled as a traitor from the very start.

Dark, viscous hatred rises in Kylo. He wants to strangle this woman, take her apart, find out what exactly makes Hux so fond of her. He should wipe her mind clean, leave her a blabbering blank slate, reduce her to something less than a person. It would be the perfect revenge—depriving Hux of his favorite Captain, snatching his trusted underling from him, making him even more alone than he is.

Kylo reins himself in. Phasma hasn’t done anything to him. Her only crime is being close to Hux, and he can’t exactly go punishing people for that, no matter how much the thought makes his blood boil. Right now, she’s at his mercy, waiting for him to either invade her mind or tell her the truth. This should be triumph enough for him.

“Very well,” he says, feeling tired and benevolent at the same time. “General Hux is unwell. That is all I know. He is in the medbay, being taken care of.”

“I see.” Phasma’s tinned voice is unreadable, just like his.

“No one must know.”

“No one will.”

“Good.” He wants to put his hand on her shoulder, mark her as his, too, but he refrains. She’s Hux’s property; it would do him well to remember that. “Dismissed.”

She salutes him and hurries down the corridor, probably rushing to the medbay. Kylo wonders whether Hux will let her stay.

He hates her again.

***

His usual droid brings his usual dinner at his usual hour. The tediousness of meals bores him, but he needs sustenance, and he can’t exactly hook himself to an IV with all necessary nutrients, although he wonders why the First Order hasn’t invented something like that yet. It would greatly enhance the efficiency of its operations, and Kylo makes a mental note to bring up the idea at the next meeting of High Command. He wonders whether Hux will argue against this, too.

The dinner doesn’t satisfy him, but few things do. His mind keeps going back to Hux, and he realizes with disgust that he’s worried. Hux looked so pale, so feeble, completely unlike himself. And yet his eyes gleamed like fire when he sent Kylo away, their shocking green imprinted in Kylo’s memory. If he still had the energy to hate Kylo this much, he’ll probably live.

He must live. There’s no other way.

Kylo summons a droid to take the dinner tray away. Gamma shift is only just beginning, and sleep eludes him, as it often does. He spends twenty minutes in the sonic, letting warm vibrations caress his skin, but the sensation remains too hollow, too impersonal to truly soothe him.

“Fucking Hux,” he mutters, changing into his sleeping clothes, a simple pair of shorts and a vest, all black. He looks down his long, green, hairless legs, glides his hands over his long, green, hairless arms. If only he were this species or that, he’d be stunning. His body is glorious, chiseled by relentless training, sculpted by vigor and discipline.

But it’s the body of a monster, and nothing can change that. No one will see anything else. No one—except perhaps another monster like him?

He remembers the pearlescent scales covering Hux’s skin. He doesn’t know what species Hux is mixed with, but the fact that he’s a hybrid is indisputable. Nothing else could have resulted in that. And then, there’s the matter of the Force coiled inside Hux’s body, a great source of power, which Kylo undeniably covets, drawn to it on some base, physiological level, like a feral vornskr.

Hux harbors so many secrets, it seems, and Kylo hates secrets. He needs to know everything; otherwise, he feels excluded, humiliated, scorned—which is what Snoke does to him all the time, withholding information in order to keep him subdued. It’s a wise tactic, and Kylo both abhors and admires Snoke for it. But it’s not something he’s going to tolerate from Hux. He’ll find out what Hux is hiding, make Hux tell him, make Hux confide in him.

He bolts upright, blinking when it dawns on him that he’s been lying in his bed, unable to sleep, thinking solely about General Hux. With building horror, he realizes how easily he can recreate the flecks of blue in Hux’s irises in his mind, how readily he can describe every item of Hux’s uniform visible to the eye, how hungrily he can list every time Hux called him by his name in that crisp, accented voice of his.

As the revelation hits him, he thinks back to the hatred he felt for Captain Phasma just a few hours ago. How he wanted to crush her for the simple crime of being close to Hux. He didn’t understand it at the moment, but he knows now the name of the sharp, dirty feeling that almost made him murder one of their best officers.

Jealousy.

He was fucking jealous.

Chapter Text

Kylo broods. Despite being nominally Hux’s co-commander, he has somehow not been required to step in and take on additional duties in his absence. The Finalizer continues functioning as usual, leaving Kylo to stew in his newfound emotions. On the one hand, there’s nothing he wants more than to see Hux. On the other hand, indulging this unfortunate attraction constitutes a weakness, something he should avoid, not cultivate. He’s being torn apart by these opposite pulls: one to preserving the integrity of his pious asceticism, the other to pursuing the impulses of his volatile heart. Both feel like they originate from the Dark, so the right choice isn’t as obvious as he would’ve liked.

He contemplates bringing the question to Snoke, but he doesn’t want to bother the Supreme Leader with such childish concerns. His Master’s guidance should be reserved for matters of importance, not Kylo Ren’s private life and worries.

His Knights, on the other hand.

“What troubles you, Master?” Vicrul’s hologram flickers in front of Kylo, blue glow replacing the black of his robes.

“Hux has been unwell.” Two weeks in the medbay and counting is not something one can easily hide, and this information has become public despite Kylo’s best efforts to preserve Hux’s privacy.

“The General?” Vicrul sounds surprised. “Are you dissatisfied that he still lives?”

Kylo laughs uneasily. “I should be, shouldn’t I? But I’m not.”

“I see.” Vicrul moves and sits down on something that the hologram doesn’t render. “What advice do you seek from me?”

“Should I follow my mind or my heart?” It all boils down to this ancient question, doesn’t it? Every time, for every soul, on every planet.

“Only you can know that,” Vicrul says placidly.

“That’s not very helpful,” Kylo reproaches him, though there’s no bite to his words.

Vicrul shrugs. “If you wanted some lofty words, you should have called Cardo.”

“And if I wanted cheeky banter, I would have called Ap’lek.”

“Why did you call me, then?”

“You’re the smartest,” Kylo says simply. “Tell me what to do.”

Vicrul chuckles. “It’s not often that the Master of the Knights of Ren asks for orders. I should cherish this opportunity.” He tilts his head, tapping his finger against his mask. “The mind listens to reason, but the heart listens to nothing,” he says at length. “You can persuade your mind differently; you cannot bend your heart.”

Kylo thinks this over.

“You’re saying I should follow my heart?”

“I’m saying that whatever you do, your heart will not rest until its demands are met. You can live your entire life following your mind to the letter, but it won’t be a happy life.”

“What if following my heart leads to a disaster?” Considering what his heart wants, it’s a distinct possibility.

Vicrul spreads his arms. “At least, it’ll be a happy disaster.”

“Thank you,” Kylo says, with just a touch of irony. “Your advice has been most helpful.”

“Anytime, Master.” Vicrul nods and the hologram flickers out.

To the medbay, then. To follow his foolish heart.

***

“What do you mean you can’t let me in?” Kylo rages at the medbay’s front desk.

“Those are the General’s orders,” the head nurse explains. She’s very pale, but, apparently, determined to follow Hux’s instructions even if it costs her her life.

“I am his co-commander. I am entitled to see him.” He squares his shoulders, as if he needs to look any more intimidating than he already does.

The nurse blanches further, and still she doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry, sir. The General was very strict. No visitors are allowed.”

Her loyalty is admirable, except Kylo wants to choke it out of her. Hux probably wouldn’t like that, which is the only thing that stops him.

“I will remember this,” he threatens, whipping around in a flurry of robes and stalking out.

Back in his quarters, he sends the medbay a demand for information about Hux’s condition. In response, he receives a note that his access was denied. He’s the highest ranking person on this ship, and his access was denied.

He throws his datapad at the wall. A web of cracks spreads over its screen. He’ll get a new one, that’s not a problem. The problem is he still wants to murder something.

“Fucking Hux,” he mutters, as he is prone to do now from time to time, often unprompted.

Helmetless, he goes into the refresher to stare at his reflection in the mirror. After a few minutes, he puts his fist through the duraglass, then watches drops of indigo blood slide down his fingers.

The sight soothes him, but only slightly.

***

It’s been three weeks since Kylo carried Hux into the medbay. Kylo has paced all the corridors and rooms on the Finalizer and is seriously contemplating starting to pace the ceilings. If he applies the Force in just the right way, he might be able to make himself levitate. It would require rigorous training, but maybe rigorous training is exactly what he needs to take his mind off—well, Hux.

The situation has been deteriorating. To the point where he almost choked a red-haired technician for making him think for a second that he was Hux, orange vest notwithstanding.

He’s called Ap’lek. He’s called Cardo. He’s even called Kuruk, who only grunted “Death” in response to Kylo’s grievances. Kylo doesn’t know what else he expected, death being the Knight’s go-to solution to any problem.

When he realizes he’s on the verge of crawling to Captain Phasma in search of some crumbs of information about Hux, he decides this cannot continue. He demands an audience with his Master.

“Send me on a mission,” he says as soon as Snoke’s hologram appears before him.

“Is something the matter, my apprentice?” Snoke’s manner is cold. Kylo wonders, not for the first time, how much of his mind he can read at this distance.

“My mind is in turmoil,” he confesses. “I require a distraction.”

Snoke shakes his head slowly.

“Your current life is a distraction,” he says, all long syllables and hidden meanings. “What you need is a purpose.” Whatever, Kylo thinks. Call it whatever, just give it to me. “I will give it to you,” Snoke says, and Kylo exhales. “But not now. You aren’t ready.”

Kylo wants to scream.

“How do I become ready?” he asks, forcing himself to maintain the image of an obedient student, although all he wants is to roar and slash at things.

“Keep your eyes and ears open, apprentice. And do not bother me again, unless you have something important.”

The connection cuts off, and Kylo is left alone in his room, more frustrated than before.

***

He tries to follow Snoke’s instructions, vague as they were. His master must feel there is something for him to learn here, stationed (trapped) on the Finalizer. Kylo just has to figure out what. Come alpha shift, he arrives on the bridge, which is now run by Captain Phasma, and offers to take it off her.

“With all due respect, sir,” she begins, regarding him with a mixture of emotions, none of which resemble respect. He brushes his fingers against the hilt of his lightsaber; she doesn’t flinch, “General Hux left specific instructions that I take the bridge in his absence.”

“Do you have that in writing?” Kylo asks, baring his teeth under the mask.

“I do, in fact.” Phasma pulls out her datapad and starts swiping on it until she finds the document in question. “Sir.”

He waves her away. He doesn’t need to look at yet another slap in his face by General fucking Hux. She nods her helmet and returns to her duties, leaving Kylo to wonder whether he imagined the mockery in her gesture.

Fuming, he stalks toward the training area, intent on working off some steam by beating up clueless troopers. He wishes one of his Knights were here, but they’re all dispersed on separate missions, finding artifacts and suppressing unrest for Snoke. It’s just him, Kylo Ren, stuck on a ship that isn’t his and never will be his, doing fuck all.

That must be the explanation for his horrible situation. He’s bored out of his mind, and so he’s invented a problem for himself. As soon as he gets a proper mission, he’ll forget about Hux and his stupid, ridiculous green eyes.

In the training area, he finds five troopers scattered around and offers them the opportunity to take him on in bare hand combat. He feels the troopers hesitate, intimidated by him, so he changes his offer into an order, and then they’re sparring, throwing punches and dodging kicks, but even five-on-one, it’s too easy, it’s drastically not enough.

He’s in the process of throwing one of the troopers across the room when his commlink pings. It must be one of his Knights, checking in; no one else calls him or leaves him messages. Maybe chatting with a familiar soul will be a better distraction than whatever he’s doing here.

“Good fight,” he lies to the troopers, nodding at them as he leaves the training area and takes his commlink out to look at the incoming message.

When he sees the sender’s ID, his pulse ratchets up.

He crosses the Finalizer in quick, long strides, wanting to view the message in the privacy of his own rooms. Once he closes the door behind him, he whips out the commlink and presses play.

“Ren.” Hux’s hologram springs up, blue and shimmering. “Please meet me in my quarters at the end of beta shift.” The hologram flickers out.

Kylo replays the message immediately. Then again. Then a few times more.

He scrutinizes the hologram to the best of his ability, but he can’t tell anything from it. Hux sounds healthy, yet Kylo can’t know if he’s still deathly pale or if his cheeks have regained their slightly rosy tint. The message is too short, too vague, too incomprehensible.

Hux wants to see him. He doesn’t look like he’s dying. That’s all Kylo definitively knows.

It isn’t enough.

***

By the end of beta shift, Kylo has paced himself into a frenzy. He’s tried meditating, but it only helped for a couple of hours. As soon as he opened his eyes, he plunged right back into overthinking everything.

For starters, why did Hux say ‘please’? He’s never been polite with Kylo, not for a second in the year that they’ve known each other. Something must have changed. Maybe it’s part of Hux’s illness; maybe it’s part of Hux’s gratitude; maybe Kylo’s paying attention to things that do not deserve attention.

Regardless, it’s finally time, and now he can find out everything straight from the source.

He opens the door to Hux’s quarters with his own code cylinder. The proper course of action would have been to knock, not just let himself in, but Kylo can’t give a fuck about propriety. He needs to see Hux. He’s been waiting more than three weeks for this.

Inside, Hux is expecting him. His couch is still lying on the floor in singed pieces, a reminder of Kylo’s ruinous temper, and Kylo immediately feels ashamed of his childish tantrum. Hux stands to the side of it, hands clasped behind his back, looking straight at Kylo.

“Ren,” he greets, voice neutral, and Kylo shivers.

It’s Hux. Real and alive, calling Kylo by his name.

“You look good,” Kylo blurts, which is true. Hux’s skin has lost its sickly pallor, and his back is as straight as ever.

Hux seems taken aback, but he barely shows it.

“Thank you.” He motions for Kylo to come inside. “Make yourself comfortable. Well.” He glances at the murdered couch. “As comfortable as possible.”

Kylo takes off his mask and strides further into the room, stopping a few steps from Hux. Up close, he notices that Hux’s cheekbones are sharper, he’s lost some weight, and his eyes are harder, though still magnificently green.

“A drink?” Hux presses a button in the wall and a part of it slides up, uncovering a small bar.

“You said you don’t drink,” Kylo remembers, frowning.

“I lied,” Hux says simply.

“Do you do that often?”

“Whenever necessary.” Hux takes a bottle of Tevraki whiskey and pours himself a glass. “Any preferences?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.” It’s not that he doesn’t trust Hux. If Hux wanted to murder him, he’d have come up with a better scheme than inviting him into his quarters to poison him with alcohol. Still. He wants to be on the safe side.

“Very well.” Hux pours another glass from the same bottle and gives it to Kylo. “To the First Order.”

They drink. Kylo isn’t much of a drinker, but the whiskey burns his throat pleasantly and he starts to relax.

“I tried to visit you in the medbay,” he says, and immediately bites his tongue. He didn’t intend to start their conversation with a confession that blatant. Now Hux has all the power in this interaction, and Kylo can’t be sure he isn’t going to abuse it.

“So I’ve heard.” Hux speaks primly, his tone indecipherable. He’s staring at Kylo with his shrewd, calculating eyes, as if trying to see through him, trying to see something hidden in the depth of Kylo’s soul.

“What happened to you?” Subtlety isn’t Kylo’s forte. He may as well carry on bludgeoning his way through this.

“What did they tell you?” Hux parries.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

Hux sips his drink, but his eyes keep staring at Kylo over the glass. The air between them is heavy, saturated with expectations, and it takes Kylo a few more moments to realize what’s happening.

Of course. He should’ve known sooner.

“You want to ask me if I saw you.”

A muscle in Hux’s jaw twitches.

“Well.” He lowers his hand with the glass. “Did you?”

Kylo needs to be very careful with his phrasing now.

“You’re like me.”

Hux’s eyes widen for a second. Kylo mentally congratulates himself. That was the right thing to say. He hurries to continue.

“I don’t mean half-Corellian, obviously.” He’d have noticed earlier if Hux had green skin. “I don’t know what exactly you are, but… but you’re like me, right?”

Hux puts his glass down on the bar shelf and traces his finger along the bottles on it. A few kinds of whiskey, a bottle of something green, a bottle of something blue, something that looks like wine. His face betrays absolutely nothing.

“You didn’t tell anyone,” he says, picking his glass up again.

“Why would I?”

Hux gives him a level look, unimpressed that Kylo’s apparently forgotten their previous animosity.

“So many reasons.”

Sure, if Kylo wanted to take revenge on Hux, it would’ve been the easiest way. Leak the story of the General’s mixed origins and watch him get ostracized by everyone on the ship, everyone in the Order. Except the thought never even crossed his mind, as familiar as he is with that particular kind of hell.

“I guess I can trust you, after all,” Hux says, when Kylo stays silent, and Kylo is shocked to see the beginning of a smile on Hux’s thin lips. It’s just a shadow of a real expression, a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, but it’s there. He skims Hux’s Force signature, and there it is, genuine amity, something he’s never seen from Hux.

“Coming from you—” He tips his glass toward Hux. “I’m flattered.”

“You should be.” Hux finishes his drink and sets the glass down. “I don’t trust lightly.”

That sounds like an understatement.

“How many people know?” Kylo gestures in the direction of Hux’s chest.

“My parents, obviously.”

“Captain Phasma?” Kylo has to push the words out, still brimming with jealousy.

Hux shakes his head. “I trust her with my life—but not this.”

Kylo hides his smug smile in his glass. Take that, Phasma.

“What about the medbay personnel?”

“Sworn to secrecy under threat of execution. People tend to take my threats seriously.”

“Is that why—?”

“—you couldn’t get anywhere near me? That’s right. Their loyalty is commendable.” Hux sounds proud of his medbay minions, and Kylo, absurdly, wants to hear him talking like that about him.

When Hux doesn’t say anything else, Kylo glances around the room. It’s sparse, the couch seemed to be the only indulgence Hux allowed himself to have. Kylo feels another pang of guilt for destroying it.

“Why did you keep this?” He nods at the singed pieces.

“To remind myself who I’m dealing with. Not that I ever forgot,” Hux says pointedly, but without the usual venom he reserves for conversations with Kylo.

It’s almost—friendly. Kylo has made this mistake once before. But this time, it feels right. This time, there really is hope. He latches onto it like his life depends on it. Who knows, one day it might.

“I’m sorry,” he says, words he never thought he’d utter to Hux.

“I can order a new one.” It’s as much an acceptance of his apology as he can probably get from Hux.

They regard each other in silence, Kylo nursing his drink, Hux crossing his arms over his chest. It feels companionable, an adjective Kylo would have never applied to Hux. Gone is the acid, the vitriol that always suffused their interactions. Now, they share a secret, the most important secret in both of their lives, and it binds them with a feeling so new, neither of them knows how to name it yet.

It scares Kylo, this uncharted territory between him and Hux. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He can’t exactly attack it or beat it up, and it’s not like he’s good at anything else. Gulping his drink, he breaks the silence they’ve established.

“I felt the Force coming from you.” He points at the center of Hux’s chest. “Like you’re a power source.”

“You think I’m made of kyber or something?” Hux is joking, Kylo knows it, even though his face remains impassive. But there’s no easy explanation for what Kylo felt, and he can’t rule out the impossible.

“I don’t know what to think,” he says honestly. “Are you?”

Hux leans back against the wall, arms still crossed, looking into the distance, his attention occupied by something not in the room. A few weeks earlier, it would have irritated Kylo, led him to yell and throw things. Now, with Hux’s scales vivid in his memory, he waits patiently until Hux speaks again.

“I was poisoned,” he says, instead of answering the question.

“You were what?”

Hux flicks his eyes at him, dissatisfied. He doesn’t like to repeat himself, Kylo knows that.

“Who did it?” he asks, feeling rage start to build up in his stomach.

“I don’t know,” Hux admits. “I have my suspicions, though.”

This isn’t right. Kylo is the only person allowed to murder Hux, and even he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

“Let me help you,” he says, his hand drifting toward his lightsaber.

Hux looks surprised.

“With what?”

“Finding who did it? And killing them?” It seems so obvious, but Hux appears taken aback by Kylo’s suggestion.

“Hm.” His gaze turns thoughtful again. “I suppose you could help, yes. The next High Command meeting is tomorrow, and news of my recovery has not yet left this ship. Look for anyone who’s, ah, disturbed by my presence.”

“You think it’s someone among the generals?”

“I think someone doesn’t like sharing a rank with a fish.” Hux’s lips crook in a smirk, but Kylo can feel the pain behind it, the insult, the low, simmering anger. He’s been in the same place too many times to count.

“They’re wrong,” he says simply, and feels a wave of gratitude flow his way from Hux. It’s nicer than hatred, and he wants to feel it again. He vows he’ll do anything to feel it again. Including killing one of the First Order’s generals.

In fact, he’d kill all of them if it meant Hux smiled at him, a real, sincere smile.

“Another drink?” Hux offers, reaching for the bottle.

“Yes. Please.”

“Never thought I’d hear please from you,” Hux remarks with the slightest hint of a chuckle as he pours the glasses.

“I’m a man of many facets,” Kylo says loftily, trying to suppress the warm, fuzzy feeling that rises in his chest.

“So you are. Apparently.” Hux raises his glass and his eyes shimmer. “Cheers, Ren.”

“Cheers, Hux.”

***

Returning to his own rooms, Kylo feels drunk, but he knows it’s not the whiskey. Inside, he tosses off his helmet and plops down on his bed, still dressed. His body buzzes, his limbs heavy and tingling, and his mind drifts, soaked in Hux’s attention.

The only thing souring the moment is the fact that Hux had to be poisoned for their relationship to take a turn for the better.

Kylo still doesn’t understand why someone would want to murder Hux, despite being the one who dreamt about it day and night for the past year. At least his hatred was driven by direct offense. As for other generals, Kylo hasn’t seen Hux be anything but professional to them, though he can imagine how some of them, especially the older ones, could get jealous of this hot-shot overachiever with not a single gray hair on his head.

But stooping to murder? And such a cowardly one, too? Snoke wouldn’t like that, Kylo’s sure of it. His Master values order above all, and this is the worst kind of chaos, one that almost cost them their best asset.

He closes his eyes and summons up the image of Hux, looking at him, a hint of a smile dancing on his thin lips. How anyone could want to hurt this man is beyond him. Hux is made for worship, for glory and admiration, he’s meant to rule the fucking galaxy—

“Oh, but those are treasonous thoughts,” Kylo murmurs to himself. He sits up on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face.

He’s getting carried away. This happens, he knows this happens to him at the first hint of kindness and respect, and he is sufficiently aware of himself to stop it. Shrugging off his clothes, he walks into the fresher and lets the sonic vibrate over his skin, bringing cleanliness together with clarity.

Hux might be a wonderful man, but he’s just a man. The galaxy belongs to Snoke, and Kylo and Hux are both only his loyal followers. Their greatest ambition is to serve their Master side by side.

He’d better not forget that.

***

Hux is late for the High Command meeting. Kylo is sat in Conference Room One, watching the holographic generals pop up one after another and waiting for Hux to walk into the room. They’ve discussed this; reading the Force signatures of holographic presences doesn’t yield the same precision as with people directly in the room, but Kylo is strong enough to get the general idea. As soon as Hux appears, Kylo will disperse his mind in five directions and find the traitor.

Just as the meeting is about to begin and the first blue streaks of Snoke’s presence are being transmitted through space, Hux enters the room, chin high and back ramrod straight.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, making his way to his seat and nodding at every general he passes.

They nod back at him, perfectly composed, no one batting an eyebrow. In terms of their Force signatures, though? Four of them show nothing except a slight bewilderment at Hux being the last one to join them, where he’s usually the first to show up.

But the fifth one, oh, the fifth one is a study in amazement. His brainwaves shoot all over the place, exhibiting the entire spectrum of emotions. There’s fear and rage and hatred, all spilling over the edges of the traitor’s mind.

“Greetings, generals,” Snoke says, and Kylo has to turn away from the culprit, bowing to his Master. “My apprentice. What do you have for me today?”

After the generals deliver their reports, Kylo makes his own proposal for reviewing the nutrition programs on the First Order Star Destroyers, suggesting that liquid solutions would be a more efficient way to keep the crews in fit condition. No, he hasn’t consulted with any physicians. Yes, he still thinks it’s a good idea. Hux glances at him over the table, and he doesn’t really care whether Snoke approves of his concept or not. All that matters is he knows who ordered the hit on Hux. His own role in the Order is, at the moment, irrelevant.

“Dismissed,” Snoke says at last, and the generals flicker out, leaving Kylo and Hux alone in the room.

“It’s—” Kylo opens his mouth, but Hux raises a finger, stopping him.

“Follow me.” Hux stands up and walks out of the room, Kylo trailing after him like a tamed loth-wolf.

They arrive at a small compartment located just off the main bridge, barely large enough to fit the two of them. It’s filled with what looks like communications technology, and its walls are covered in a peculiar kind of durasteel.

“Where are we?” Kylo asks, looking around.

“My personal comm room,” Hux explains. “It’s safe from any prying ears. Or eyes.”

“Did you call me from here, that time when I was chasing the pirates?”

“Yes, Ren.” Hux turns to face Kylo, which is a tight maneuver inside the small space. They’re almost face to face. “So. What do you think?”

“It’s Pryde,” Kylo says, eager to share the revelation with Hux. He expects the General to be surprised, to commend his abilities, to show any kind of emotion, but Hux just nods.

“I thought so,” he says, eyes distant, already calculating something that Kylo isn’t privy to. “He certainly went pale when I entered.”

“He was a hologram,” Kylo points out, annoyed at the lack of recognition.

“I’ve been dealing with holograms all my life. I know how to read them.”

“Whatever,” Kylo mutters. He shifts back, leaning against the wall in an attempt to put some distance between them.

Hux considers him for a moment, head tilted to the side.

“Ren.”

“What.”

“I appreciate your assistance.” Hux holds out a hand to him.

Kylo shakes it, glove touching glove. “Fine,” he mumbles, grateful for the helmet. His cheeks burn. “What are you going to do now?”

“Oh, I have a few ideas.” Hux takes his hand back and smirks. It’s terrifying. “Don’t you worry.”

“I thought about talking to Snoke—”

“No,” Hux cuts him off, frowning. “Don’t bother the Supreme Leader with these petty squabbles.”

“It’s not petty!” Kylo erupts. “You could have died!”

“I didn’t,” Hux says flatly. “I will deal with it. By myself. Can you give me that, Ren?”

It’s a smart move, making it sound like Kylo is doing Hux a favor. Now Kylo has no choice but to say yes, which he does, however unwillingly.

“Good.” Hux folds his hands behind his back. “I’ll see you on the bridge?”

“Do you need me there?”

“Not really,” Hux says, but there’s a smile playing in his eyes. “Your presence has an inspirational effect on the crew, though.”

“Ah. Well, if you put it like that.”

“I do.”

“I’ll be there.”

Hux leaves the room with a nod, and Kylo has to collect himself for a moment, before he follows him.

***

As soon as Kylo learns the news, he flies through the Finalizer’s corridors and barges into Hux’s quarters. It’s been a few days since Hux summoned him here after his stint in the medbay, and Hux has replaced the couch fragments with a new one, identical to the previous one. He’s presently sitting on it, sipping a glass of wine and swiping at his datapad.

“Was that you?” Kylo asks, tugging his helmet off to better stare at Hux.

“I would really rather you knocked before letting yourself in, but go on.” Hux makes a circle with his hand without looking up from his datapad. This is exactly the attitude for which Kylo wanted to strangle him once. The wish rises in him anew.

“General Pryde.” Kylo takes out his own datapad and scrolls through his messages. Finding the one he needs, he strides toward Hux and shoves his datapad into Hux’s face, making him look at it. “Found crushed to death in a trash compactor on the Steadfast.”

“I can read, yes, Ren.” Hux swats his datapad away.

“Well?”

Hux just huffs.

“Well?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Hux leans back on the couch, making a wide gesture with his glass. “Captain Opan has always had a morbid sense of humor.” He looks up at Kylo innocently, but there’s mischief glinting in his eyes, and that’s answer enough.

“Captain Opan?” Kylo vaguely remembers the man, one of Hux’s closer underlings. He wonders just how tight their relationship is.

“A good man, isn’t he?” Hux’s voice warms when he talks about him, and a different kind of hatred rises from the pit of Kylo’s stomach.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says tensely, eyes fixed on Hux.

“That’s a shame,” Hux says, unperturbed. He puts his datapad away and takes another sip of his drink. “You ought to get to know your crew better, Ren. You never know when you might find one of them, ah, useful.” Something about the way he says the last word doesn’t sit well with Kylo.

“Oh yeah?” He hovers over Hux, using the full bulk of his frame. Hux looks up at him, undaunted. “And how often do you find Captain Opan useful?”

“Often enough.” Hux smirks defiantly, and Kylo likes nothing about it.

He puts his hands on the back of the couch, caging Hux between them.

“Does he service you?” He can feel hot air pass through his nostrils, and he knows Hux can see his fury.

“If you want to put it like that.” Hux is playing with him, dangling the bait right in front of him, and Kylo fumes.

“How would you put it?” He leans further down. Their faces are mere centimeters apart.

“None of your business,” Hux says, enunciating every syllable carefully. He could have just spat into Kylo’s face.

Rabidly, Kylo lunges all the way down and crushes his lips into Hux’s. He’s thought about this moment before, a few times, but he never envisaged it actually becoming reality. It was always his dirty secret, an idle fantasy, a distant dream. Now, Hux’s mouth is falling open under his, their tongues touching, probing at each other in a rushed, heady dance.

He bites Hux’s bottom lip. Hux moans into his mouth. It’s insane.

It’s also, admittedly, the best thing he’s ever felt.

The kiss ends as abruptly as it started. Kylo jerks back, separating them, searching Hux’s face with wild eyes. Hux is breathing through his mouth, cheeks flushed, but his eyes are unreadable, and Kylo grows cold.

“Ah.” Hux raises a finger and purses his lips, glancing down as if to collect himself before an unpleasant task. “Ren.”

“No.” Kylo staggers backward. He doesn’t want to hear anything that Hux has to say. It was a mistake. He acted rashly. He’s a fool. “Don’t.”

He puts his helmet back on and rushes for the door.

“Ren, wait!”

He flees as fast as he can.

Chapter Text

Avoiding Hux is much easier than he expected it to be. Not least because Hux isn’t actively seeking him out. Which disappoints Kylo immensely, although he’d eviscerate himself with his own lightsaber before he admits it to himself.

“Something’s on your mind, Master,” Vicrul says as Kylo broods too long over his move in the long-distance sabacc game they’re playing on their datapads.

Kylo counts his hand. It’s too close to twenty-three to risk getting another card.

“I’ll stand.”

He can feel Vicrul’s eyes fixed on him through both their helmets and the distance. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

“Sabacc Shift,” a mechanic voice calls from their datapads. The cards on Kylo’s screen shimmer and change, landing him with a hand that is completely worthless.

“Fuck.”

“That bad?” Vicrul’s tone is commiserating, but Kylo knows the Knight is laughing on the inside. They always do.

“It’s a stupid game.” No wonder his father loved it so much.

“It’s a relaxing way to pass the time,” Vicrul remarks as their datapads announce him the winner.

“I’m not here to debate definitions,” Kylo grumbles. He wonders why he even calls Vicrul at all.

“Why are you here, then?”

“Funny, I was just wondering that myself.”

“Ha-ha.” Vicrul’s hologram leans forward, as if to see Kylo’s masked face better. “Is it about the General?”

Kylo wills himself to sit still. “Why?”

“Dunno.” Vicrul sits back, his helmet tilting upwards. “Last time we talked, it was about him. I thought the pattern continued.”

There’s a choice before Kylo: to argue or to agree. If he argues, Vicrul will see right through him, and he won’t get anywhere except potentially ruining the closest relationship he currently has. If he agrees, he’s likely to undergo his severest humiliation since the—the scene in Hux’s quarters.

“I—him,” he mumbles, opting for a few minutes of mortification instead of a lifetime of regret. At least, that’s what he thinks he’s choosing.

Vicrul springs up, his mask growing large in the projection.

“You fucked him? Already? I mean, congratulations, Master,” he babbles, obviously ecstatic.

Kylo splutters.

“No!” He waves his arms in front of him. “I just—I only—”

“Yes, Master?” Vicrul sits back, folding his hands in his lap politely.

“I kissed him,” Kylo articulates, cheeks burning. He’s glad Vicrul can’t see his face. He’s glad no one can see his face at the moment.

“Oh.” For some reason, Vicrul sounds disappointed. He must have really gotten invested in his previous theory. “I mean, that’s good. That’s good, right?”

“No?” Kylo stands up and starts pacing. “I don’t know?”

“Well, what did the General say?”

“I don’t know!” Kylo throws his arms up. He wants to cut something into pieces, but he kind of likes the furniture he has in his quarters. Maybe he should go to Hux’s and destroy his couch again. That would be a nice development in their relationship.

“I’m sorry?” Vicrul rubs the top of his helmet. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I—away.”

“You what?”

“I ran away!”

There’s a pause. It’s a long one.

“Oh, Master.” Vicrul sounds like he’s pitying him. This was the wrong choice. Kylo is already regretting all of it. “We should get Ap’lek on this call,” Vicrul says, because apparently, things can get worse after all.

“No Ap’lek!” Kylo yells before Vicrul can dial them in.

“They’re fun,” Vicrul points out, but he takes his hand away from his commlink.

Kylo glares at him through his helmet. He knows Vicrul can tell.

“Another game?” Vicrul suggests, gesturing at his datapad. “Seeing as you don’t want to talk, Master.”

“I want to talk,” Kylo grumbles. He does, that’s true. He just doesn’t know how.

“I’m dealing.” Vicrul starts a new game and cards begin to shuffle on Kylo’s datapad. He takes it grudgingly, watching his hand fill out. He’s got the Idiot and the Commander. Even his cards are mocking him.

“I hate this game,” he mutters, throwing the datapad away. He ignites his lightsaber and slashes through the air, just to hear it hum menacingly, if nothing else.

“Alright, Master.” Vicrul puts his own datapad away, too. “Don’t do anything rash, please.”

“I’ve already done something rash,” Kylo points out, watching his saber make red circles in the air.

“Don’t do anything else, then.”

“What should I do, Vicrul? I’ve ruined everything.” Kylo powers off his weapon and drops heavily on the couch, arms dangling between his knees.

“From what I’ve heard, you didn’t exactly have anything to ruin. You hated each other.”

He’s not wrong.

“We were doing better.” Kylo finds himself feeling wistful. He had a few days of near-friendship with Hux, and now he misses them. It’s deplorably pathetic, but it’s also the reality he has to face.

“Your Force signature is all over the place, Master,” Vicrul reproaches carefully. “Have you tried meditating?”

Kylo flares. “Of course, I’ve tried fucking meditating! It made things worse.”

“How?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Kylo admits. It was a humiliating experience. He went in hoping to get rid of all thoughts about his co-commander only to surface with nothing but Hux’s face in his mind.

“I see.” Vicrul sounds vaguely apologetic, and Kylo’s grateful for that. Ap’lek would have laughed their ass off already. “You won’t like what I’m going to say, Master.”

“Try me.”

Vicrul’s hologram leans forward, looming larger before Kylo. “You need to talk to him.”

“No,” Kylo says quickly. “No way. Out of the question. What would I talk to him about? It won’t work.”

“You’ve talked before.” Vicrul edges closer. “You’re the ship’s co-commanders.”

“We’ve been successfully avoiding each other without any detriment to our duties,” Kylo says primly.

Vicrul stares. Kylo can tell.

The worst thing is, Vicrul is right. Kylo can’t run from Hux forever. He can dodge Hux’s eyes during High Command meetings, and he can remove himself from the bridge, and he can even scan the corridors of the Finalizer for Hux’s presence so they don’t run into each other by accident, but a day will come when Snoke wants them both in the audience chamber, and what will Kylo do then? Pretend Hux doesn’t exist? The Force tells him already that that would be a poor choice, one that might cost him something he doesn’t yet realize he could lose.

If only the Force gave more accurate predictions, life would be so much easier. As it is, he has to rely on vague feelings and premonitions, and so far, that’s only gotten him into this present mess.

“Was it a good kiss?” Vicrul asks abruptly.

“What?”

“The kiss. Was it good?”

Kylo darkens under the mask. “What does it matter?”

“Good, then.” Vicrul tilts his helmet forward. “Talk to him, Master.”

Kylo summons his datapad back into his hand.

“If I win, I avoid him for the rest of my life,” he says, starting a new game. “If you win, I talk to him.”

“Deal,” Vicrul agrees, and they play.

Kylo loses with an absurdly humiliating score.

***

The best idea Kylo can come up with is to wait for Hux in his quarters until the end of beta shift. He lets himself in and sits patiently on the couch, hands clasped in his lap, his helmet on—just in case. He spends the hours meditating, but it doesn’t go any better than the last time. Hux’s face is the only thing his mind is drawn to, and he’s powerless against it.

He remembers the kiss, and his lips burn. It was a short moment, but it’s seared indelibly into his memory, into his very skin. Hux responded to him, although he can’t be sure whether it was surprise or instinct or actual reciprocation. He was too distracted to read his Force signature, and now he has to wallow in all this doubt. Perhaps Snoke is right; he’s not ready—not for anything serious.

The door swishes open as he broods.

“Mother of hells!” Hux yelps, stumbling over his legs. He straightens up quickly and glares at Kylo. “The fact that our cylinders open each other’s rooms is not an invitation to lurk here in my absence.”

“I’m not lurking,” Kylo mutters, although that’s exactly what he was doing.

Hux gives him an unconvinced look. He proceeds into the room, tugging off his greatcoat and hanging it on a hook.

“What are you doing here, Ren?” He sounds weary, like he’s had a long shift.

“I came to talk,” Kylo says, using all his willpower to push the words out.

Hux opens his bar and pours himself a drink. He doesn’t offer one to Kylo.

“What about?”

Kylo sighs. It comes out as static through the vocoder. He tugs off his helmet and shakes out his hair. Not having to hide feels nice, even if the tension in the room is bordering on suffocating.

“Are you seriously not repelled by this?” he asks suddenly, making a circle with his hand around his face. People have literally stood up and left the room upon seeing green skin over his human features.

“Why would I be?” Hux drains his glass in one gulp and pours himself another. It must have been a really long shift.

“Most people are.”

“I’m not most people.”

Hux doesn’t even know how true that is.

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Hux asks, walking toward the couch, stopping in front of it. Now he’s looking down at Kylo, and Kylo fails to suppress a shiver at the memory of the last time they interacted here.

“No,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair in an attempt to compose himself enough for speech. “I wanted to—”

Before he can finish the sentence, their commlinks ping in unison. They glance at each other, confused. It’s either a coincidence or an emergency, and with Kylo’s luck, the smart money is on the latter.

Hux takes out his commlink first.

“It’s Snoke,” he says, and Kylo knows immediately that he’s got a message from the Supreme Leader, too. He checks anyway, and indeed, his commlink shows a summons from his Master.

On the one hand, this saves him from an awkward conversation with Hux. On the other hand, it might herald a number of worse things. Things that might lead to an even more awkward future with Hux. Or maybe even a future without Hux at all.

“He wants to see us now,” Hux continues, as if Kylo isn’t reading the same message.

“Should we go?” Kylo doesn’t want to move.

Hux looks at him incredulously.

“Is that a question?”

Treasonous thoughts, again. Kylo stands up and puts his helmet back on.

“Just testing your loyalty,” he snaps, striding out of Hux’s quarters and bearing down the corridors toward the audience room.

The holochamber is a big empty space, built to accommodate Snoke’s enormous hologram. Hux must rage against the waste of square meters, but only inwardly. Kylo is sure that Hux has never had a single treasonous thought in his life, though he’s felt fleeting moments of suspicious hubris in his Force signature from time to time. He always thought those were aimed at him, though, a product of their unspoken rivalry.

Snoke’s hologram flickers into the room, tall and intimidating, and Kylo stands straighter. Hux is already at full military attention.

“General,” Snoke greets, and Kylo feels a habitual spike of annoyance at being the second one to be acknowledged. “My apprentice.”

They both bow. At least here they’re equals.

“You must wonder why I summoned you,” Snoke says, leaning on his elbow and eyeing them idly from his gigantic throne.

“Your wisdom is beyond question, Supreme Leader,” Hux says, pleasantly subservient. Kylo sneers under his mask. As much as he’s obsessed with Hux, he still hates some things about him.

“Well noted, General.” Of course, Snoke approves. Kylo would need to kneel and lick his Master’s boots if he wanted to enter this particular competition with Hux. “I have a task for you two, my most valuable commanders.”

“What is it, Master?” Kylo asks, tired of the theatrics.

“Impatient, as always.” Snoke tuts. Kylo thinks he sees Hux hide a smirk. “I want you to go to Arkanis.”

“Arkanis, sir?” Hux sounds surprised.

“It is your home planet, isn’t it, General?”

“Yes, but—” Hux glances at Kylo as if seeking his help, but Kylo is just as much at a loss. “Why do you want us to go there?”

“The Academy archives,” Snoke pronounces.

“Ah.” Hux nods in understanding. “I see.”

“I don’t,” Kylo grumbles, then remembers where he is and who he is talking to.

“The General will explain it to you, then,” Snoke says, and Kylo knows when his Master is dissatisfied. “Behave, Kylo Ren.” With that, the hologram flickers out, leaving Kylo with his face blazing under the mask.

“That went well,” Hux notes, an undercurrent of humor coloring his voice.

Kylo glares at him through the helmet. Hux raises a mocking eyebrow and turns on his heel, striding out of the holochamber.

That’s just great. Now they’re stuck on a mission together, and Kylo doesn’t even understand what it’s about.

So much for talking.

***

They don’t meet again until the shuttle ride that brings them to Arkanis. The Finalizer remains in orbit, with Captain Phasma taking command, and Hux is strangely calm sitting in the copilot seat by Kylo’s side, staring straight ahead.

“Do you have fond memories of your home planet?” Kylo asks into the oppressive silence between them.

“Some.” Hux glances at him without turning his head. “Are you finally talking to me, Ren?”

“What?” Kylo frowns under the mask. “You’re the one who wasn’t talking to me.”

“Oh, really? I was sure it was the other way around.”

Kylo thinks back over the last few days. He was avoiding Hux, that much is true, but he thought Hux was avoiding him just as much; whenever they did end up in the same room, the General didn’t make a single attempt to strike up a conversation.

Their relationship is a disaster, clearly. The only way to salvage anything from it is to be professional. At least, Kylo can’t think of anything else.

“The mission,” he says, the vocoder making his words sound dull. “What is it about?”

Snoke never provided any details, and Hux hasn’t been forthcoming either. Granted, as has already been established, Kylo has been avoiding the General.

“You’ll see,” Hux replies coolly.

“Don’t you think I need to know what I’m supposed to be doing?” he grits out, feeling familiar anger rise in his chest.

“Don’t worry.” Hux smirks. “I’ll give you orders.”

Kylo wants to cut him into five neatly cauterized pieces with his lightsaber. His fists clench on the steering column, and he turns away to look out of the viewport.

Arkanis is a beautiful planet, all blue water and swirls of white clouds. It’s different from Chandrila, which is more green than blue, with its rolling hills and massive forests. Kylo wonders if Hux sees his home planet in his dreams when he feels lonely, like Kylo does.

It’s a weird feeling, to love one’s homeworld. Kylo didn’t spend that many happy years on his, and from what he knows of Hux’s history, he didn’t either. Yet, childhood is that period of time when the grass is tall and the suns are bright, and life seems much better than it is. To a child, everything looks fascinating, be it the skyscrapers of Coruscant or the dunes of Jakku. Kylo remembers walking through the groves of tintolive trees, running over the red balmgrass fields, watching bulabirds strut around with their star-tipped beaks. He still feels suffused with peace when he thinks back to those experiences, even though most of his past is tarnished by his struggle to align himself with the Light, a struggle he was never supposed to win. He doesn’t miss Chandrila, per se; but he misses himself, the person he was back then, the carefree kid who liked pretty things and didn’t yet know how ugly life could be.

He brings the shuttle down on the landing platform before a sleek, gray fortress. Through the viewport, Kylo can distinguish three enormous buildings, perfectly symmetrical, the smooth walls emanating cold efficiency and rigid discipline. They look to be made of metal, neat, tight boxes designed to take in curious children and spit out perfectly trained killing machines.

“Welcome to the Arkanis Academy,” Hux says, walking toward the shuttle door and gesturing grandly outside.

Kylo steps down the gangway and looks around.

“I thought it’d be more—” he hesitates, searching for the right word.

“Dilapidated?” Hux supplies.

“Yeah,” Kylo agrees. “Something like that.”

Hux shrugs.

“It was built to last.” He doesn’t sound necessarily proud of it, just acknowledging the fact.

They head for what Kylo takes to be the main building. It’s the widest and tallest structure, with large windows and two gigantic statues guarding the front door. They’re faceless slabs of stone, standing at attention, ready to receive their orders, signifying the future that awaited the graduates of this Academy.

Kylo wonders if he’d have liked being a cadet here. True, he was never a fan of discipline, and this place looks like it abhors free thought. On the other hand, it provided its students with a clearly defined purpose, something that the Jedi Academy did not do for him. Bring balance to the galaxy, to the Force? That’s not a goal. That’s an unachievable expectation that leads to acute mental turmoil, which is exactly what happened to him. Snoke offered him a way out, and the First Order gave him a path to follow. He felt whole then, and he wishes he could have felt that earlier. Maybe he’d have been spared all this suffering if he’d studied here instead of with Skywalker.

“Did you like being a cadet?” he asks Hux, as they step through the front door into an enormous, high-ceilinged hall. Everything about this building is impressive, and Kylo can only imagine what it did to the minds of children stepping inside for the first time.

“It was all right,” Hux replies. He strides toward a wide, gray staircase, not glancing back at Kylo who lingers by a holographic bust displayed proudly in the middle of the hall. According to the plaque, it’s an image of Commandant Brendol Hux. The holo is flickering with age, but Kylo can tell the Commandant’s face is wider than his son’s, crisscrossed by a web of wrinkles, with sagging jowls and perpetually narrowed eyes.

“What was your father like?” Kylo calls after Hux, and Hux freezes mid-step.

He lowers his foot and turns rigidly toward Kylo.

“What did you just ask me?”

Hux didn’t sound this hostile even when they were fighting on an almost daily basis.

“I asked what your father was like,” Kylo says, not understanding what he’s done wrong.

“Don’t ever ask me that again.” Hux’s tone is frigid. He turns around and walks up the stairs, his boots clicking against stone.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Kylo whispers to Brendol’s bust. The hologram doesn’t answer.

Kylo can understand complicated feelings for one’s parents. Stars know, he’s got a lot of those. When your parents produce you as a fuck-you to the entire galaxy, that puts a lot of responsibility on your tiny green shoulders. You’re supposed to be both and neither, all and nothing, a piece of this and a piece of that. You’re born to defy, to contradict, to destabilize. It’s not an easy childhood, and it doesn’t get easier with adulthood. Mixed-species kids have to go big or go home, there simply aren’t other options, and Kylo knows how exhausting it is to always choose to go big.

Sometimes he just really, really wants to go home.

“Are you coming or what?” Hux’s voice lashes at him. The General is standing at the top of the stairs, looking pissed off. Something in Kylo melts at this look, the part of him that is happy whenever Hux reacts to his existence.

He hurries after Hux, bounding up the stairs like an excited loth-wolf.

Hux leads him further into the bowels of the Academy. They stride down the long corridors in silence, and Kylo’s head swivels as he tries to take in everything. This is where Hux spent his childhood; it looks cold and empty, and Kylo longs to reach into the past and tell cadet Hux it doesn’t always have to be like this.

“Aren’t you going to give me a tour?” he asks, only half-joking.

“I’m sure you know how Academies work,” Hux says. It’s a low blow, but Kylo takes it.

“Mine wasn’t anything like this,” he says, and that’s true; it was bad in its own unique way.

“Well. Good for you.”

Kylo doesn’t bother asking him anything else after that.

They stop in a large room on the top floor, with a skylight in the ceiling. It appears to be a library, the walls lined with shelves that are filled with folders, files and books—actual books, printed before flimsiplast replaced paper all over the galaxy.

“What are we doing here?” Kylo asks, while Hux walks toward a desk with an old-fashioned console on it.

“I’m collecting the files the Supreme Leader requested,” Hux says, punching something into the console. “I don’t know why you are here.”

Kylo comes to stand on the other side of the console. He catches Hux’s hand.

“Hux.”

“What.”

“What happened?” He doesn’t mean ‘at the Academy’ and Hux knows it.

Hux keeps his eyes fixed on the console for a few long, pointed seconds. He doesn’t take his hand away.

“You help me find my enemy, you make me trust you, you kiss me, then you run away, and now you’re asking me what happened?” Hux’s voice trembles, just slightly. He looks up to stare at Kylo’s mask. His eyes are vivid with hurt and anger.

Kylo breathes heavily through the vocoder. It comes out as static.

“I thought you—” He hesitates. What did he actually think? Did he think at all? “I thought you didn’t like it,” he mumbles at last, aware of how ridiculous he sounds.

Hux lets his hand go slack in Kylo’s grip. He brings his other hand to his forehead.

“Have you heard of this miraculous invention called communication, Ren?”

“We are communicating,” Kylo points out. “You yelled at me during the last High Command meeting. Or, more accurately, you yelled at the wall to the side of me.”

“That obviously doesn’t count, and your suggestion was truly ludicrous,” Hux says, closing his eyes and massaging his temple. “Sending all our Star Destroyers in pursuit of one Resistance cruiser, really?

“It had her on board—“

“I don’t care. That isn’t even a waste of resources, that’s just pure idiocy.”

“You’re doing it again,” Kylo complains. He sounds whiny even through the vocoder.

Hux opens his mouth as if to continue the conversation, but stops mid-word. Gently, he takes his hand away from Kylo’s and rubs both his palms over his face.

“Why did you run away?” he asks, putting his hands on the desk. His eyes are earnest, a rare look on the General. Kylo likes it immediately.

“I was afraid,” he says, scared by his own honesty.

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

They stay silent for a few seconds.

“Ren.” Hux’s eyebrow twitches minutely. “Do I need to pry every kriffing word out of you?”

He’s got a point, but he doesn’t know how difficult it is to talk to him, to this tall, gorgeous, fascinating man with eyes like the forests of Chandrila.

“I was afraid,” Kylo starts again, “that you were going to reject me.”

“Did it feel like I was rejecting you?”

Kylo remembers Hux’s lips, his tongue, his little moans.

“No.”

Hux leans forward on his hands and looks at the console. Kylo waits patiently, feeling spikes of irritation in Hux’s Force signature. There’s also something else, a thin thread of something like relief.

“We need to scan a lot of papers for the Supreme Leader,” Hux says when he lifts his eyes to Kylo again. “I will show you what to do and you will do it. Is that clear?”

Kylo nods, though he doesn’t like the change of subject.

“I asked, is that clear?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied, Hux moves around the library, collecting folders stuffed with papers and bringing them to one of the wooden desks in the middle of the room. He gestures for Kylo to sit down and shows him how to scan the papers into his datapad. Diligently, Kylo starts working, ignoring the thousands of questions that swirl on his tongue. Hux takes another batch of folders to the desk opposite Kylo and goes on to scan them without looking away from his task. Together, they sit like this in the silence of the library, and it feels more intimate than anything Kylo’s done before in his life.

***

By the time they’re done, the suns are already dipping toward the horizon. At some point, Kylo nipped back to their shuttle for the nutrient bars Hux had packed, anticipating a long day. He’d still prefer all the nutrients and vitamins injected straight into his veins, but he’s got to work with what he has. Hux, for one, looks like he enjoys the bland atrocities.

After checking that all the required files have been successfully uploaded to their respective datapads, encrypted and secured from any prying eyes, Hux and Kylo replace the folders on their shelves and leave the library, descending the stairs until they’re standing opposite Brendol Hux’s bust once again.

“We’ve got some time left, before we’re expected back,” Hux says, glancing at his wrist chrono. Kylo shivers, involuntarily. “I want to show you something.”

He leads the way through the Academy yard, past dead trees and withered bushes, and Kylo follows, his mind racing. At some point, the neat pavement gives way to smooth, water-licked pebbles, and Kylo can hear the faint shushing sound of waves.

In a few minutes, they arrive at a beach. Kylo watches the waves splashing over gray, yellow, brown pebbles, and the child in him, long-lost and abandoned, stirs at the sight. On Chandrila, the beaches are made of sand, and while Kylo loves water, he hates sand, so sea trips were always exercises in ambivalence. Here, on Arkanis, seeing the ocean is pure bliss.

He stops a few meters away from the water, taking in the view. His helmet filters out most of the smell, so he removes it and breathes deeply, the sharp tang of salt and algae filling his nose.

Hux keeps walking until the waves lick at the toes of his boots. Slowly, he takes off his uniform, piece by piece, and Kylo watches, mesmerized. Hux’s scales shine in the glow of the setting suns, covering his skin from shoulders to ankles. Under them, the muscles in his back move, strong and lithe, and Kylo wants to touch them, to feel them under his fingers, to lick and pet them.

“Swim with me,” Hux says, glancing at Kylo over his shoulder, then steps into the water until he’s submerged to his chest. In a blink, he dives, and Kylo is left on the beach alone, still fully clothed.

He waits for Hux to come back up, but the only thing to break the surface is a large, bright-red fishtail. Kylo doesn’t know what species it could be, but he hopes it’s nothing predatory. Surely Hux would know about any dangerous local wildlife? He searches the water for Hux’s head. The fishtail appears again, sending splashes every which way.

“Ren!” Hux calls, popping up meters away from where Kylo had been scanning. He’s hovering in the water, arms spread wide. “Swim with me!” he offers again and dives, the red fishtail appearing where his head had just been, and that’s when Kylo starts to suspect.

Quickly, he divests himself of his robes, and wades into the ocean. The water is pleasantly warm, glimmering pink and orange in the sunset. He dives as soon as he’s waist-deep, searching for Hux underwater, breathing through his gills.

It doesn’t take him long to find him. In the clear water he spots Hux’s wicked smile, his human arms, his scaled torso—but instead of his legs, he has a thick, bright-red tail, which ends in two flukes. It joins seamlessly with Hux’s body. As Kylo stares, Hux laughs, bubbles emerging from his mouth and popping to the surface. He motions up with his finger, and Kylo obeys, surfacing next to him.

“How?” he asks.

“You alter memories with a thought,” Hux says, swimming closer. “Why is it hard to believe I can do the same to my body?”

The Force emanating from him is staggering. Kylo’s never felt so much power exuded by another being, not even Snoke. He wants to dive into it, to drink of it, to have it all to himself. It goes to his head, just being near it, and he wants to ask Hux a million questions, except there are other things he’d rather be doing right now.

Hux floats next to him, watching him with curious eyes. Kylo gathers his courage and wraps his arms around Hux’s scaled waist.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, breathless, and they kiss again.

It’s as good as the previous time; better, even. Hux’s lips taste of dreams and the ocean, and Kylo tugs him closer, feeling his cock fatten between his legs. He moves his mouth from Hux’s lips to his chin, his neck, the hollow between his collarbones. Diving under the water, he trails kisses down Hux’s chest, scales tickling his lips. As his hands glide up and down Hux’s tail, he realizes that there’s a carefully hidden slit, right where his crotch would be—and there’s a pink appendage poking out of it, like it’s shy and unsure whether it’s welcome.

Experimentally, he puts his fingers on the hooked tip, and it responds to his touch eagerly, protruding further, revealing the thicker base. He wraps his hand around it and gives it a few tugs. Hux’s tail shivers, and Kylo hears him moaning above the water.

Keeping his hand in place, Kylo surfaces to see Hux with his cheeks flushed, his mouth half-open, his eyes half-lidded.

“You have a peculiar anatomy, General,” Kylo teases as he slides his fingers along Hux’s curved cock.

“Look who’s talking,” Hux murmurs, putting his hand between Kylo’s legs.

Kylo gulps nervously. His cock isn’t human either, and he wonders what Hux will do when he discovers it. Hux’s fingers slide up the long shaft right until the point where it forks into a doubled tip, and Kylo knows he’s going to stop here, take his hand away, swim to the shore, repelled and disgusted.

Instead, Hux caresses each tip with two fingers, holding Kylo’s gaze.

“You aren’t bad yourself, Ren,” he whispers, and swims even closer, pressing his cock against Kylo’s, pressing their lips together.

It’s an unexpected fit, but a perfect one, the hook of Hux’s cock sliding neatly between the tips of Kylo’s. Their lengths match just enough for them to join comfortably, and Kylo closes his hand around both of them, moving it up and down their sleek, rubbery skin. Hux pants into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck, and Kylo’s world tilts.

The ocean around them boils with their passion, the twin suns painting it red. Kylo puts his free hand on the back of Hux’s tail, pulling him closer, supporting him as he floats. It’s not the first time Kylo’s had another cock rub against his, but it’s the first time it’s felt truly right. He’s been exoticized, fetishized, taken for a curiosity, but he hasn’t been accepted before, and Hux seems to be doing exactly that.

“Are you thinking? Now?” Hux murmurs into the space between their lips. He bucks his tail, driving the hook of his cock further between the tips of Kylo’s.

“Not anymore,” Kylo says, and all his thoughts obediently evaporate.

Hux places his hand over his, and they move together, bringing themselves off until their orgasms hit them at the same wonderful time, sending spurts of come to float in the ocean. Kylo waves them away and Hux laughs, a free and easy sound, so unlike his usual demeanor.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks, putting his head on Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo rubs his back. “What do you mean?”

“That I’m not rejecting you.”

“Yeah,” Kylo says, and the suns drop below the horizon, leaving them to float in the darkened water, clinging to each other like they’re the only thing worth valuing in the galaxy.

Chapter Text

Back on the Finalizer, everything seems brighter. The corridors gleam under the overhead lights, the faces of the officers glow with loyalty, the stormtroopers’ armor shines like it’s just been polished. Kylo moves through the ship with a spring in his step, all but humming under his breath.

Hux notices him. Hux sees him. Hux likes him.

Delighted, he sends a message to Vicrul, receives congratulations that seem genuinely heartfelt, and continues waiting for Hux, who’s rinsing ocean salt off his skin in the refresher. Kylo already grabbed a sonic in his own quarters, but Hux is fussy about his hygiene, so Kylo loiters in his rooms, studying every corner, daydreaming about merging their belongings and visualizing where he’d put everything of his.

“Are you snooping?” Hux asks behind him. He’s got a fresh uniform on, but he isn’t wearing his gloves, and Kylo gets a peek of his wrist, just the edge where Hux’s scales start, and he has to catch his breath.

“I’m just—” There’s no way he’s telling Hux what he’s been doing, what he’s been thinking, but he isn’t a good liar, so he just stands with his mouth open, trying desperately to come up with something decent-sounding.

He’s saved by a chirp from their commlinks.

“It’s already gamma shift,” he grumbles. Whoever it is, they’re just rude and can wait until the next cycle starts.

“Our work never stops,” Hux says primly, taking out his commlink and checking the message. His face hardens. “It’s the Supreme Leader.”

Kylo groans.

“What the fuck does he need now?” Having a meeting with Snoke is the last thing he wants to do right now. It’s definitely lower on his list of priorities than taking Hux into his arms and thoroughly ravaging him.

“Careful, Ren,” Hux warns him. “Don’t commit treason in front of me.”

“Would you report me?” Kylo asks, half-serious.

“You know I’ll have to,” Hux responds, and there’s no humor in his voice.

“Fine.” Kylo sighs. He’s been looking forward to this, but apparently his Master has different plans for him. Whatever. He can wait a little bit. They’ve done the most difficult thing—communicated their mutual interest to each other, and now they have time. Well, all the time that Hux can spare from his ever-important duties.

He puts on his helmet and they walk toward the holochamber. Inside, Snoke is already waiting for them, fingers tapping impatiently at the arm of his throne.

“General!” Snoke greets Hux a bit more forcefully than usual. He doesn’t spare a glance at Kylo. “Did you get what I asked for?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Hux switches to ‘loyal servant’ mode again, and it irks Kylo, the way this strong, haughty man throws away his pride to act like a dull-headed lapdog. “The documents are secure.”

“Transfer them to me immediately,” Snoke demands, and Hux nods, clicking his heels. “Dismissed, General.”

With a bow, Hux turns around and strides out of the room. Kylo watches him leave uneasily, not sure why his Master wants to see him alone this time. Hopefully, it’s something to do with his Force training. Even more hopefully, Snoke isn’t sending Kylo away on another mission.

“My apprentice.” Snoke grips the arms of his throne and leans forward, eyes hard on Kylo. “What do you think of General Hux?”

Kylo swallows. It’s a trick question, most probably. A few weeks ago, he’d have had a ready answer, full of spite and hatred. Now, though? He doesn’t know what to say.

“I remember you were dissatisfied with your assignment back then,” Snoke prompts him.

“It’s not the case anymore, Master,” Kylo hedges. “Our co-commandership is going well and I applaud your wisdom.” A little subservience of his own wouldn’t do any harm, he guesses.

Snoke doesn’t react to it. If anything, his eyes grow harder.

“When you two were on Arkanis, did he try to hide something?”

On the contrary, Hux showed Kylo all of himself, and Kylo is still dazed. Obviously, he can’t tell Snoke any of that.

“No,” he says simply.

Snoke narrows his eyes.

“Did he behave suspiciously in any way?” he continues.

Kylo’s robes feel hot, and he shifts in place uncomfortably.

“No,” he says again. Wherever Snoke is going with this, he doesn’t like it.

Snoke sits back in his throne, steepling his fingers in front of him. If Kylo had to guess, he’d say his Master is disappointed. Previously, that would have devastated him. Right now, he just wants to know what Snoke has against Hux.

“I assume you have heard about General Pryde,” Snoke begins.

“An unfortunate accident,” Kylo says, hoping the vocoder will supplement his words with a note of grief he doesn’t feel.

“You are naïve, child.” Snoke stands up, and his giant projection looms over Kylo. “I’m afraid we cannot trust General Hux anymore.”

The words descend on Kylo like a cloud of ink, staining everything in his world. With great effort, he remains standing, and he clears his mind the best he can.

“I have a mission for you, my apprentice,” Snoke says, walking forward until his hologram almost touches Kylo. “Watch General Hux. Report to me everything you see.”

I can’t betray him, Kylo thinks, catching himself before he reveals the subject of his thought.

“That’s right.” Snoke nods, pleased. “You cannot betray me. You will not betray me.”

“No, Master.” Thankfully, his voice doesn’t shake.

“Go.” Snoke motions with his hand. “Do your part.”

His hologram dissipates in the air, and Kylo feels all blood rush away from his head. He staggers toward a wall, leaning against it for support.

This cannot be happening. Hux is the best general in the Order; he’s involved in a secret weapon project for Snoke; he’s untouchable.

Treasonous thoughts, once again, trickle into Kylo’s mind.

If he needs to choose between Snoke and Hux, whom will he choose?

***

It frightens him, how obvious the answer is, how he doesn’t even need to struggle within himself. He could blame Vicrul for that fateful advice, but Vicrul didn’t force him to follow it, no. It’s his own choice, and he fully intends to keep making it, over and over again.

Heart over mind; that’s where true Darkness lies, and he flies to it, a moth to a flame, eager, stupid, unstoppable.

He rushes to Hux’s quarters, finds him sitting on the couch, gloveless, datapad in hand. Wordlessly, he throws away his helmet, drops to his knees before Hux, clutches at his legs, those long, magic legs, and buries his face in Hux’s lap. Hux still smells like the ocean, and the Force he exudes makes Kylo dizzy.

“What did he say to you?” Hux asks quietly, putting his free hand on Kylo’s head.

“What was in the documents?” Kylo asks back. He needs all the pieces of this puzzle if he’s going to assemble it properly.

“Classified information.” Hux pets Kylo’s hair, and Kylo leans into the touch, almost forgetting the subject of their conversation. “Dirt on the old Imperials. Snoke wants a leash for his rabid curs.”

“You’re his main rabid cur,” Kylo says, looking up, displacing Hux’s hand. “He asked me to spy on you.”

Hux puts the datapad away and cups Kylo’s cheeks. His eyes shine in the dimmed light.

“Will you do that?” There are more questions behind this one, and Kylo senses a single thread of fear in Hux’s Force signature. He wants to wipe it away, immediately.

“Would I tell you if I was going to?”

A corner of Hux’s mouth tips up.

“You aren’t known for being smart,” he says, without malice.

Kylo turns his head in Hux’s grip and bites the meat of his palm.

“Ow.”

They stay silent for a few moments, while the fear dissipates from the air, replaced by a different kind of worry, a tension between here and there, their present and their future, their destiny and their choices.

“What are we going to do?” Kylo asks, turning back to look into Hux’s face, hoping he has an answer for him. Hux always has the answers; that’s his job, the one Kylo has never learned how to do.

“Survive,” Hux says simply. “That’s the first priority.”

“What’s the second?”

“Survive together,” Hux says and leans down to kiss the top of Kylo’s head. “I would prefer that.”

The energy of the Force surrounding him fills Kylo’s lungs until he doesn’t know how to breathe anymore. Light-headed, he shifts on the floor, fingers digging into Hux’s legs, looking for support.

“You’re so strong with the Force,” he mutters, letting that power wash over him like the ocean before. “How?”

“I’m not exactly strong with it. More like it’s strong in me.”

“Explain,” Kylo demands before he can lose his mind.

Hux cards his fingers through Kylo’s hair, deliberating.

“My mother was a native Arkanisian. A water person, a magic person,” he begins, voice steady, even though it can’t be easy to explain one’s hybrid origins, the opposite forces tearing one apart from inside and outside. “My father was one of the colonizers, third generation.” Hux’s face hardens. Kylo doesn’t pry.

“You said ‘magic’?” he asks instead.

“We call it Arka, the spirit of the ocean. And -nis means ‘-dom’, like in ‘kingdom’,” Hux explains, a touch of pride mixed with nostalgia seeping into his words. “Arka is what lets us change shape. It infuses us, flowing through our cells, but we can’t wield it as precisely as you do.” He sounds wistful, as if missing a weapon he could have had.

“So, you’re like a battery,” Kylo concludes, and Hux chuckles.

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I think so much of you.”

“Ah.” Hux swipes his thumb along Kylo’s cheekbone. “You do, don’t you?”

Kylo hooks his arm around Hux’s neck, bringing his face close, pressing their lips together. He’d betray whole worlds for this. He’d burn the galaxy if it stood in his way.

What is Snoke, really, on the scale of the entire cosmos? Just another weirdo with a too large ego and poor taste in clothing. Hux could replace him easily; and he’d look much better, too.

“You warned me not to commit treason in front of you.” Kylo cites their earlier conversation, words from a different time.

“I did,” Hux agrees. “But the definition of treason depends on who you are loyal to.” He looks at Kylo, serious and devastating. “Who are you loyal to, Kylo Ren?”

“You,” Kylo breathes. “Only you.”

And then Hux smiles at him, really, truly smiles, and it’s everything Kylo ever wanted.

***

They plan. The right word should be conspire, but Kylo doesn’t like to think of himself in such terms. His thoughts aren’t treasonous anymore; he’s pledged his loyalty and he adheres to it relentlessly. He remembers his first meeting with Hux, how he’d accused Kylo of casually switching sides, and he’s determined to show the general that he was wrong.

Hux presents the Starkiller plan to Snoke in a secret meeting between the two of them. After that, Snoke orders Kylo to scout out potential planets for the building of their ultimate weapon. What he doesn’t know is that Hux has made more plans, ones that he shares only with one other person in the galaxy.

“What am I looking at?” Kylo asks, leaning on Hux’s shoulder as Hux projects a schematic from his datapad. They’re sitting on Hux’s couch, pressed tight against each other, Kylo’s long legs tucked under him.

“A new type of blaster.” Hux rotates the schematic, showing off his invention in three dimensions. To Kylo, it doesn’t look much different from the regular weapons.

“What’s new about it?” he asks, reaching out to touch the edge of the projection. It tilts toward him, scaling up the corresponding part of the diagram.

“The power source.” Hux slaps his hand lightly and restores the projection to its true-to-life dimensions. “It’s kyber.”

“Kyber?” Kylo echoes. Instantly, the weapon fascinates him. If Hux used it, they would match: his lightsaber, Hux’s blaster, running on the same power source, filled with the same red fire.

“Came up with it while designing the Starkiller. Ten times the firepower,” Hux says dreamily, tracing the lines of the projected handle. “Can pierce any armor.”

“Even red duramentium?”

“Even that.”

Kylo turns away from the projection to drag his tongue along the shell of Hux’s ear.

“You’re very sexy when you’re smart,” he whispers, and feels Hux shiver. He slides his hand around Hux’s middle, stroking his stomach through the layers of uniform. “Take this off.”

Hux turns off the projection and catches Kylo’s hand, stopping it.

“You have a mission, Ren. Don’t make the Supreme Leader wait.”

“You’re my Supreme Leader,” Kylo murmurs, lacing his fingers through Hux’s. The tips of his cock begin to swell in his leggings.

“Very flattering,” Hux remarks dryly. “And I have a mission for you, too.”

“So many missions,” Kylo complains. He just wants to split his time between fucking Hux and being fucked by Hux, is that so much to ask?

“That, my dear, is your lot in life,” Hux proclaims, and Kylo is ready to forgive him everything for that endearment. No one has ever addressed him with such tenderness, not even his kriffing parents. They were always afraid of him, of the power growing in him and their own mixed genes boiling inside him like a young volcano. They knew what they were doing, breaking a galactic taboo, and they waited for retribution, consciously or not. It tainted every interaction they had with him, making him grow up alone within his own skin.

He feels Hux’s lips brush against his knuckles and blinks out of his momentary spiral.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Hux tells him, concern rising in his impossible eyes.

Kylo kisses him on the lips, an apology and a reassurance.

“Tell me what you need from me.” He’s ready to kneel before Hux, promising him all the riches from all the planets in existence.

Hux’s wish is much simpler.

“Kyber,” he says. “We will need a planet with lots of it for the Starkiller. No one will notice if you take a crystal or two.”

“Two?” Kylo frowns. He hopes Hux means he wants to make a spare.

“I have a particularly loyal officer,” Hux says, and Kylo feels the ugly roar of jealousy inside him.

“Phasma,” he guesses gloomily.

Hux nods. He puts his hand on Kylo’s cheek and peers into Kylo’s eyes.

“I’m not fucking her,” he says, amused. “Nor am I fucking Opan, if you must know.”

“You act like you do,” Kylo grumbles, though he knows it’s an unfair complaint.

“Don’t be childish,” Hux chides him. “Now go. Two crystals, remember.”

Kylo slides off the couch and bends at the waist, catching Hux’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Yes, my lord,” he says, and he’s only half-joking.

“Your Emperor,” Hux corrects him, and he isn’t joking at all.

***

Vicrul and Ap’lek join Kylo on the mission to Ilum. The other Knights are exploring the other planets on the list, but Kylo knows as soon as he lands that they’ve found their location. The very air here is saturated with the Force, and Kylo feels almost like he’s close to Hux again, inhaling the power emanating from his skin.

“Okay, this is definitely it,” Ap’lek says, having come to the same conclusion as they step from the ship onto the fresh snow. “Can we leave now? I hate cold.”

“No.” Kylo brushes the snow off his cowl and starts walking forward. “We have something to get first.”

Vicrul hurries up to stride beside him.

“I don’t remember Snoke asking us to bring back anything,” he starts, and Kylo can feel him glancing at him from behind the mask.

“He didn’t,” he agrees.

They walk a few steps in silence, Ap’lek lagging behind them, complaining about everything they see.

“Is it for your general?” Vicrul asks, sounding more amused than anything.

Lying isn’t an option—first, because the Knights will know; second, because he’ll have to tell them sooner or later anyway.

“We have a plan,” he says, hand on the hilt of his lightsaber, just in case.

“Wait, you and the General?” Ap’lek calls from the back, making their strides longer to catch up with Kylo and Vicrul. “When did that happen and why wasn’t I informed?”

“You weren’t?” Vicrul chuckles. “Guess I’m the Master’s favorite.”

Kylo can hear Ap’lek’s pout through their mask.

“Tell him he’s wrong,” they demand. When Kylo doesn’t reply, they huff, a crackle of static. “Fine, you can have your little tea parties. What was that about a plan?”

“Does it involve treason?” Vicrul asks, voice light even through the vocoder.

“Not if you’re loyal to me,” Kylo says, feeling for their Force signatures. They’re both calm, Vicrul more curious, Ap’lek still mildly insulted, but neither of them appears to be outraged. A good sign, Kylo decides.

“You’re our Master,” Vicrul says, folding his hands in front of him and bowing. “Of course, we’re loyal to you.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Ap’lek says, hooking a thumb at their fellow Knight.

Kylo moves his hand away from his lightsaber, breathing out his relief. On some level, he knew his Knights were going to stand at his side, but there remained a small possibility that they would follow the power, choosing their Master’s Master as a more suitable subject of devotion.

“Thank you,” he says, returning the bow. Vicrul and Ap’lek snort in unison.

“Let’s get out of this white shit and you tell us everything,” Ap’lek suggests, stomping their boots to shake the snow off them.

Kylo points forward. “That cave. We’re going there.”

“The one that smells like kyber?” Vicrul asks, inclining his head in the direction indicated by Kylo.

“That’s the one.”

They walk on, Ap’lek continuing to grumble about the snow and Vicrul humming a tune under his breath. He’s no Trudgen when it comes to singing, but Kylo is glad to see them both so relaxed after the recent revelation. With these two onboard, the others will follow, there’s no doubt about that.

When they reach the cave, Kylo ignites a flame in his left palm, lighting the way. Vicrul follows, but Ap’lek only shakes their hand in frustration.

“How do you guys do that,” they complain.

“You should meditate more,” Vicrul says. “Strengthen your connection to the Force.”

“Like fuck.” Ap’lek raises their chin and strides forward, overtaking Vicrul and Kylo. In a few steps, they stumble over something and let out a pained grunt. “Shit.”

Kylo chuckles to himself. This is his family, and he wouldn’t give them up for anything.

“Why are you like this,” Vicrul mutters, hurrying over to where Ap’lek is cursing. The flame in his palm illuminates a nest of crystals, shimmering in the flickering light. “This what we’re looking for, Master?”

“Yes.” Kylo joins them and puts his free hand up, crooking his fingers. Two red crystals detach themselves from the cluster and fly into his grasp. The Force emanating from them warms his palm through the glove, spreading a sense of serenity through his body.

“Now,” Ap’lek says, straightening up and patting the snow off themselves, “how did you end up planning with the General?”

Kylo tells them. He doesn’t disclose Hux’s secret, but he implies that there’s been an understanding, that Hux comprehends monstrosity in a way that makes him a perfect ally.

“He’s smart, he’s competent, he knows what he’s doing,” he lists, as if he’s still trying to sell his Knights on the plan.

Ap’lek turns to Vicrul. “You fucker.” They smack Vicrul up the back of his helmet. “You didn’t tell me that Master is in love.”

“Isn’t it better to see it first-hand?” Vicrul counters, and Kylo can swear he’s snickering under that mask.

He wants to protest, but there’s nothing he can say. He hasn’t labeled this thing in his chest yet because, to him, it defies labels. Love is not a large enough word to encompass what he feels toward Hux. It’s trite, it’s casual, it’s overused. His parents love each other; he’s above that.

“I think we broke Master,” Ap’lek notes, waving their hand in front of Kylo’s faceplate. “See? No reaction.”

Kylo extends his will through the Force and catches Ap’lek’s wrist. They try jerking out of his grip, to no avail.

“Ah, he’s back,” they announce happily, and Kylo lets them go.

He finishes explaining the Knights’ part in the plan, and both Vicrul and Ap’lek nod, agreeing without any questions. Well, any plan-related ones.

Pocketing the kyber crystals, he leads the way back to their ship, and they return to the Finalizer, the Knights bidding their goodbyes before going their separate ways, already receiving new tasks from Snoke. Kylo, in his turn, rushes to give the good news to Hux.

He can’t remember when everything he does began revolving around this man, but it’s far too late to worry about it, and so, he does what he wants to do—no doubts, no questions, no regrets.

There’s Hux, and nothing else matters.

***

“Will these do?” Kylo asks, presenting the crystals to Hux in his quarters.

“Yes, thank you.” Hux takes them off his palm. “These will do very nicely.”

He locks the kyber in one of his desk drawers, then turns around to meet Kylo’s unmasked gaze. Kylo places his hands on the edge of the desk, caging Hux between them, and leans down to brush his lips against Hux’s. He’s waited too long for it. He needs to devour Hux whole, and he knows the need is mutual.

“Naughty,” Hux whispers against his mouth, but there’s no judgment in it. He hooks his fingers into the belt over Kylo’s robes and tugs. “Are you looking for a reward?”

“I am looking for you.” Lifting an arm, Kylo starts unhooking Hux’s uniform jacket with the Force. As the clasps disengage, he watches Hux’s scales come into view, red and glowing across his chest.

“I’m right here,” Hux murmurs, rolling his hips against Kylo’s, and Kylo can feel the rub of the hooked tip poking from between Hux’s legs. “We don’t have time for this, you know,” he adds, but Kylo can feel that he doesn’t mean it.

“I need to learn how to harness your power,” he argues, done with the jacket. Hux shrugs it off and it falls to the floor, crumpled and immediately forgotten. “This is as good a practice as any.”

“Ah, so it’s practice?” Hux smirks, teasing.

“It’s anything we want it to be.” Kylo glides his arms down the sides of Hux’s undershirt, reaches the hem and tugs, pulling it over Hux’s head. The Force surges from the center of Hux’s chest, reaching out for Kylo, licking at his skin. It wants to be used, and Kylo accepts it gladly.

“Bedroom,” Hux orders, and Kylo obliges. He curls the Force under Hux’s ass, pulling him up. Hux wraps his legs around his waist, like he’s done it a thousand times, and Kylo carries him through the sliding door, throwing him onto the bed, rumpling the neat black sheets.

He bends over, pressing his mouth to Hux’s, kissing him deeply, hungry and covetous. Hux’s hands roam over his robes, undoing his belt, tugging, pushing, pulling. Kylo directs the Force to the fly of Hux’s jodhpurs, the heels of his boots, the waistband of his underwear. Soon, they’re both naked, and Kylo realizes he’s seeing Hux’s untransformed groin for the first time.

There’s a slit down his crotch, from which an already familiar hooked cock is protruding, full and pink, with dark spots at the base. Kylo drags his fingers over its curve, and Hux moans next to his ear, eager and pleased.

They roll over the bed, kissing and panting, until Hux settles between Kylo’s legs, taking his cock into his mouth, stretching his soft, pink lips around its doubled head. He flicks his tongue between the tips, and Kylo whimpers in pleasure. As Hux sucks him off, he gathers the Force in his palms, drawing on his own power and the power flowing from Hux, and pushes.

Their bodies lift off the sheets, floating in the air. Hux’s hands wrap around his thighs, squeezing his buttocks, and Kylo thrusts shallowly into his mouth. They’re flying, suspended between the bed and the ceiling, the cool air of the room wafting over Kylo’s back. Hux drags his tongue along the length of Kylo’s cock, sucking on the tips, and Kylo already feels ready to burst.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing Hux’s hair and pulling. “I want you in me.”

Hux lets go of his cock and rolls forward, hovering over Kylo. He rubs his cock against Kylo’s, and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Where’s the lube?” Kylo asks in lieu of an answer.

“In the night stand, top drawer.”

Kylo reaches out without looking, grabbing the tube and floating it into Hux’s hand. He re-arranges them in the air until Hux’s chest is flush with his back, and he shivers at the feel of scales against his skin. Tapping deeper into the Force, he lifts them up to the ceiling, his cock meeting the cold durasteel.

“Now,” he says, and Hux obliges.

Slicking his hand, he worries the rim of Kylo’s hole for a bit, then slides a finger inside him, making Kylo’s eyes flutter. Without waiting long, he adds a second finger, then a third one, and Kylo squirms under him.

“More,” he demands, sticking his ass out, his hole loose and dripping with lube, splatters of it falling onto the bed below.

“Such a good boy,” Hux whispers into Kylo’s ear, and Kylo shivers, heat coiling in his stomach.

He feels the slope of Hux’s cock roll into him, the bend of it stretching him wide from the start. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, no other cock can compare to Hux’s, and Kylo knows in this instant that he’s forever ruined for anyone else.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his nails scraping against durasteel as Hux continues to push into him.

“Yes, Ren.” Hux slaps his left buttock, and Kylo lets out an absolutely disgusting moan. “Open for me.”

“Your wish,” Kylo mutters, arching his back and pushing backwards, thrusting his ass onto Hux’s cock, “is my command.”

Hux slides fully into him, the wider base almost testing Kylo’s limits. He stills for a moment, letting Kylo adjust, but Kylo doesn’t want to wait. He’s already waited far too long.

“Come on,” he urges, twisting his hips in an attempt to get Hux to move.

Hux puts a hand on Kylo’s back, steadying him. “Beg me,” he orders, and Kylo feels a jolt of something like electricity pierce his chest.

“Fuck me, Hux,” he mutters, pressing his forehead to durasteel in a gesture of supplication. “Destroy me with your fucking cock.” He needs it so much. “Break me in fucking half.” He’s never needed anything like this before.

He can hear Hux chuckle below him.

“Let’s not go that far, maybe,” Hux drawls, dragging his nails along Kylo’s sides. “I might still need you. Someday.” He presses a finger between Kylo’s shoulder blades, hips perfectly still.

“You’re a monster,” Kylo groans, legs trembling with unresolved tension.

“So I’ve heard.”

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Hux draws his hips back, his cock sliding almost out of Kylo, the hooked tip of it dragging along Kylo’s insides in a way that sends his head spinning. The knot inside his stomach tightens, and he prays to the Force that Hux continues moving. Instead, Hux stops with just the outermost curve of his cock inside Kylo and slaps both Kylo’s buttocks at the same time. Kylo howls.

“Good boy,” Hux says again, and before Kylo can lose his mind at the praise, he slams back inside, all the way to the hilt, and Kylo loses his mind at the sudden fullness instead, the inflow of sensations, the delicious stretch of it. His skin burns hot against durasteel as he tries to find purchase on the smooth surface, hands catching on the half-spheres of lights fit into the ceiling. Despite their brightness, they are cool to the touch, the contrast adding to Kylo’s pleasure.

After the first torturous drag, Hux settles into a rhythm, sliding in and out of Kylo, his fingers digging into Kylo’s buttocks, bound to leave marks. He moves in efficient, measured thrusts, not slow enough for Kylo to feel frustrated, but not fast enough for him to feel satisfied. The hooked tip of Hux’s cock hits Kylo’s prostate on each stroke, and Kylo gulps air like mad, barely having time to breathe between his moans.

“Your hair,” he hears Hux mutter. “It hangs so beautifully.”

As Hux’s hand twists into Kylo’s hair, he spares a moment to thank the artificial gravity for prompting this, and then Hux tugs. The pain stings through Kylo’s scalp, just enough to make him light-headed, to make heat coil in the bottom of his stomach. His own cock throbs between his legs, full and bulging with want, its swollen tips leaking onto his belly.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hux asks, picking up the pace until Kylo whimpers at his every move.

“Yes,” Kylo breathes, unable to form words longer than one syllable. “Please. Hux. Yes.”

“Since you ask so nicely,” Hux says, and Kylo can hear the smirk in his voice.

Hux’s hand wraps around his cock, his index finger sliding between the tips to glide along the slit. Kylo cries out, bursting with this immense, fate-like thing building in the pit of his stomach, threatening to erase him and replace him with someone new, someone better, someone more complete.

“Hux,” he sobs. “Hux,” he prays. “Hux,” he screams, as Hux pushes into him faster and faster, the entirety of his curved cock disappearing inside Kylo like it’s found its rightful place in the world. Hux’s hand strokes Kylo in time with his thrusts, pulling him closer and closer to the edge, until the tips of his cock start to tremble and stand apart, jets of come spurting out of him, splattering against the ceiling.

“Good,” Hux murmurs, tugging on Kylo’s hair, “so good.”

He comes inside Kylo with a grunt, filling Kylo with his spend, dropping Kylo’s hair and clutching at Kylo’s ass. Kylo glances over his shoulder to watch as Hux pulls out, then slides down and presses his face between Kylo’s buttocks, tongue flicking at his hole.

“What are you—”

“Shh.”

Kylo shivers as Hux licks and sucks his own come dripping out of Kylo, cleaning him up, soothing his abused hole. It’s strange, but also relaxing, making Kylo want to crumple into a boneless heap and sleep for a couple of weeks.

Carefully, he twists their combined Force to lower them both back to the bed, where he fulfills the first part of his wish. Hux stretches out next to him, lips red and wet, and Kylo reaches up to kiss him, tasting both Hux and himself.

“So, how was the practice?” Hux asks when Kylo pulls away.

“What did you think?”

“Hm.” Hux folds his arms behind his head and looks pointedly up. “I think I’ll have to refit a mouse droid to get that off my ceiling.”

Kylo glances at the come stuck to the durasteel and snickers.

“And then you’ll burn it?”

“And then I’ll burn it.”

Something pushes at Kylo’s chest from the inside, something vast, something immeasurable. Unable to name it, he tucks himself under Hux’s arm, presses his nose against Hux’s body, and drifts to sleep, content, hopeful, finally whole.

Chapter Text

“It is time,” Snoke pronounces, his hologram towering over Kylo, who’s bending his knee before the Supreme Leader. At this stage of his and Hux’s plan, he’s willing to do anything to avoid looking suspicious.

“Yes, Master,” he agrees, masked head bowed.

“Gather your Knights,” Snoke orders. “We will dine together once more.”

Kylo has always thought that the yearly banquet Snoke held for his Force-users pawns was an inexcusable indulgence, but this time, it works in his favor. Granted, the general atmosphere always tended toward ascetic rather than extravagant, with a simple dress-code and simpler foods, yet Kylo, in his fanaticism, considered even that as straying from the way of the Force.

Now, though, he’s happy to receive the order from Snoke.

“I have a suggestion, Master,” he says, willing his mind to be still, only the shallowest of thoughts floating to its surface.

“Oh?” Snoke sounds surprised. It’s not often that Kylo expresses anything resembling enthusiasm toward their gatherings. “Do tell, what is it?”

“We should invite General Hux.” There’s no point in deliberating. In fact, the more straightforward Kylo is, the more chances he has of pulling this off.

Snoke sits back in his throne, expression thoughtful.

“Why?” he asks simply, but Kylo knows there are more questions implied.

“I have been watching him.” This is true, of course. It just might not have been in the way Snoke had intended. “General Hux is a vain man.” This is also true, although Kylo doesn’t really see it as a flaw. In his opinion, Hux has every reason to be full of himself.

“Continue.”

“I sensed disturbance in his mind.” Again, technically not a lie. “Perhaps you will be able to find out more if you meet in person. But we mustn’t arouse his suspicion—who knows what he’ll do if he feels cornered.” He’s using ‘we’ strategically, reminding Snoke that they’re on the same side. The sentence, however, is also true of him and Hux.

“An invitation to the most sacred gathering I hold,” Snoke muses, dragging his finger along his chin.

“He will see it as an honor, no doubt.” Kylo allows himself to smirk under the mask. He knows Snoke will feel it.

“Should we invite anyone else?”

Kylo’s elation thrums in the Force. If Snoke notices, he’ll think Kylo’s happy that his suggestion worked—and he won’t be wrong.

“Maybe let him bring someone he trusts. A plus one, of sorts,” Kylo offers. “To show our esteem.”

Snoke nods a few times, fully onboard now. Kylo’s heart sings.

“I must say, I am impressed, my apprentice.” Snoke looks at Kylo with something akin to respect in his sunken eyes. A few months earlier, it would have made Kylo lose his mind with joy. “He will never see it coming,” Snoke adds with a glee that Kylo shares, if for a different reason.

“No,” he says, “he will not.”

***

It’s a habit now—to stroll into Hux’s rooms at the end of beta shift, find him seated on his ice-blue couch, and kneel before him, throwing away his helmet and burying his head in Hux’s lap. Kylo does it almost every day, and it never stops being new.

“He took the bait,” he mumbles into the folds of Hux’s jodhpurs.

Hux strokes his hair, the hand that holds the power to murder billions massaging Kylo’s scalp gently.

“He doesn’t need me anymore for the Starkiller project,” Hux muses, tucking a stray lock behind Kylo’s ear. “My supervision would be beneficial, but he doesn’t need me.”

“Just two weeks till the banquet.” Kylo lifts his eyes to look at Hux’s face. It’s cold and beautiful, better than all the pictures in all the museums of the universe combined. “Now that I’ve fed him this plan, he won’t move against you before that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Hux drops his hand to Kylo’s shoulder. The Force flows from his fingertips into Kylo’s body, blue and electric. They’ve been practicing diligently, both in bed and out of it, and Kylo thinks he’s got a good enough grasp on how to harness the power spilling from Hux in the way they need to. True, alone his chances against Snoke would be dicey, but with Hux’s Arka added into the mix, he’s confident there’s nothing they can’t do.

“You did well,” Hux murmurs, and this praise shakes Kylo to his core. His cock twitches in his leggings, filling with pride, and he knows his pupils must be widening. Hux nudges Kylo’s legs apart with his boot, dragging the round tip along Kylo’s inner thigh. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Kylo sees no point in hiding how Hux’s touch makes him shiver, how Hux’s words make his brain spin in circles.

Hux presses his boot to the bulge forming in Kylo’s leggings and Kylo whimpers. He wants, and the want consumes him. Lazily, Hux circles the tip of his boot over Kylo’s hardening cock, making Kylo shudder.

“What do you want, Ren?” Hux’s words ring in the charged air of the room. Kylo isn’t used to being asked what he wants, and there’s power in Hux’s tone, softened by real concern, something that makes Kylo’s knees tremble.

“You,” he answers, looking greedily into Hux’s eyes. Their shining green thrills him, like it always does.

Hux inclines his head, considering the man kneeling before him. Putting his boot under Kylo’s bulge, he presses upward, light but firm.

“Rise,” he commands.

Eager to comply, Kylo stands up, legs spread, chest heaving. Hux glances him over and, nodding approvingly, proceeds to undo Kylo’s belt.

“Take this off.” He points at the tunic. Kylo obliges, shivering as he stands in the cool room in just his undershirt. “Good boy,” Hux murmurs, taking hold of Kylo’s leggings and dragging them down along with his underwear.

Kylo’s cock springs up at the praise, green shaft painfully hard, twin tips glistening with precome. Tugging off his glove, Hux drags a finger along the length of Kylo’s cock, as if testing it against some personal standard. Kylo holds his breath, afraid that he will be found lacking.

“Such a pretty cock,” Hux says instead, and Kylo exhales. Hux is satisfied with him; there couldn’t be any better news.

Hux slips his fingers between the tips of Kylo’s cock, watching with apparent fascination as they part around the slit, turning emerald with blood.

“This doesn’t hurt you?” he asks, flicking his eyes to Kylo’s.

“No.” Kylo could sing songs about how Hux’s fingers make him feel, except he isn’t very good at forming words right now.

“Good.” Leaning forward, Hux licks the right tip of Kylo’s cock, and Kylo can’t help the moan that escapes him. “Very good.” With a chuckle, Hux runs his tongue around the left tip, almost making Kylo’s knees buckle.

Removing his fingers from the tips of Kylo’s cock, Hux wraps his hand around the base, giving Kylo a few long strokes. On the last one, he takes his hand away and puts his fingers into his own mouth. Kylo whimpers again, wanting contact, needing it.

When Hux continues sucking on his own fingers with no apparent interest in Kylo, Kylo breaks.

“Touch me,” he begs, shifting a little closer to Hux, all but sticking his cock into Hux’s face.

Hux raises an eyebrow at him, which can mean so many different things, Kylo is momentarily afraid that Hux is going to send him away for being too needy.

Instead, Hux takes his fingers out of his mouth and slides them between Kylo’s legs.

“So impatient,” he chides lightly as he worries the rim of Kylo’s hole with the tip of his index finger before slipping it in.

Well. This was worth the wait.

Before Kylo can say anything, Hux steadies his cock with his other hand, still gloved, and takes it into his mouth, halfway down his length. His tongue slides along the smooth skin, pressing just right to make Kylo curse and groan. As he swallows more of Kylo’s cock, Hux adds another finger and spreads them inside Kylo, stretching him until Kylo feels a spark of pain. It’s a delicious experience, and he thrusts deeper into Hux’s mouth while also trying to sit back on Hux’s fingers.

Hux sucks him neatly, almost like he’s eating an elaborate meal at a fancy restaurant, all good manners and careful poise. His tongue laps at the tips, laves around them, presses them apart, and all the while his fingers work inside Kylo’s ass, pressing at his prostate, catching on his rim. Kylo watches him in amazement. He almost screams when Hux adds a third finger and swallows him down to the base, letting the heavy weight of his cock rest on the back of his tongue.

This proud, powerful man is sucking him off and finger-fucking his ass, and all Kylo can do is make sure he doesn’t shake too much. When he comes, it’s the birth of a galaxy, white light exploding before his eyes, making everything seem bright and full of hope.

Bare-assed, with his clothes pooled around his ankles, he feels divine.

***

The Knights get directed to Rec Room 6 again as their ships dock in the Finalizer’s hangar, one after another. Kylo meets them there when they all assemble, two days before they will depart for the Supremacy.

“So, we’re doing it?” Vicrul asks, polishing his vibro-scythe.

“Yes.” Kylo looks his Knights over. They’re all strong, they’re all capable, but most importantly, they’re all his. “We’re doing it.”

Ap’lek raises their hand. Kylo nods at them.

“Are you absolutely, totally, super sure about all this?” There’s no hesitation in their words. Kylo knows they’re asking this more for the sake of the others than his.

“This is what the Force showed me,” he answers, sitting down on one of the couches, so he’s opposite Vicrul, the others forming an uneven circle around them. “Hux and I are destined to be bound by a strong emotion. Our bond must lead to a death. I have foreseen it all.”

“I remember that,” Trudgen says. The others nod.

“I just didn’t know whose death it was going to be,” Kylo continues. “But we know now.”

This was always going to happen. There just wasn’t enough darkness in him to see the truth. Thankfully, Hux’s magic took care of that.

“Let’s get this straight,” Ap’lek says, leaning forward on their elbows. “We’re murdering your Master, our Supreme Leader, because he doesn’t like your boyfriend, is that correct?”

Kylo hears the others chuckle under their masks, but it’s not malicious. They’ll follow him anyway.

“We are getting rid of a power that does nothing for the good of the galaxy,” he says measuredly. “Snoke has become obsolete. He’s too old, too fickle, too suspicious, prioritizing his own paranoia over the good of the Order. I believe General Hux can do a better job at bringing prosperity to the galaxy.”

“Since when are you interested in the galaxy?” Vicrul asks, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“Since the Force showed me its importance,” Kylo answers, which is only half-true. It was Hux, of course, who made him understand their role on the galactic scale, who brought his attention to the sufferings of many, who made him care about more than just the battle within his own soul. But some things he isn’t sharing even with his Knights.

They exchange glances, all six of them. Their signatures align in the Force, loyal and unbreakable, and Kylo sends a flow of gratitude their way.

The door of Rec Room 6 swishes open and Hux strides inside, flanked by Phasma in all her chromium glory. Kylo is learning to stop being jealous of her, with Hux reassuring him again and again that he has nothing to fear in that regard, but he still feels a spike of darkness in his chest at the sight of her. Maybe after they go through with his plan, then he’ll be able to look at her and see just another warrior, a member of their common circle.

As it is now, anyone who’s close to Hux pokes the wild, growling animal in Kylo’s soul.

“Greetings, gentlemen—and everyone else,” Hux says with a sharp nod. Phasma stands behind him, silent.

“Hey, thanks for including me.” Ap’lek sounds sarcastic, but Kylo can tell they’re pleased. Hux is earning points with his Knights already, and Kylo feels weirdly proud. He didn’t spend a few nights preparing Hux for this conversation for it to go wrong.

“We will need to work together if we want to survive,” Hux continues. He sits down on the couch beside Kylo, and Phasma remains standing next to them.

“Never venture, never win,” Cardo proclaims, and the other Knights grunt in agreement.

“The opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself,” Hux quotes back, earning himself a surprised sound from Cardo. Kylo smirks under his mask. This is his man. “Which is exactly the case here. Snoke believes he’s laid a trap for me; we’re going to exploit that belief to turn it into a trap for him.”

They go over the plan, Vicrul asking good questions and Ap’lek asking bad ones. The Knights suggest some adjustments, and Hux accepts the ones he deems reasonable. Kylo watches them come together as one team, his team, and something warm spreads in his chest. This, here, this is happening, this is happening in his life, this is happening because of him. This room, this company, this conversation—they will change the galaxy, and it will all be Kylo’s doing.

Kylo’s—and Hux’s. Whatever they have together, it’s world-altering, capable of the thickest darkness, of the brightest light.

This is the balance, this is the answer to all the prophecies, both Jedi and Sith, this is the path to ultimate salvation—for everyone in the galaxy. This is, also, a thing of pure beauty.

Kylo never considered himself sentimental, but perhaps he is. Watching Hux now, he can’t stop thinking about the vivid green of his eyes, their mesmerizing power, their magnetic pull. Hux is wearing gloves, every millimeter of his skin, apart from his face, hidden under his uniform, and yet Kylo can recreate the grace of his body in front of his inner eye, down to the last scale. They’re planning a battle; all he can think about is this man.

If they all die the day after tomorrow, at least he’s had a purpose.

***

Snoke greets them in the red throne room on the Supremacy. It’s ostentatious in its brightness, oppressive in its enormity, efficient in its terror. The Supreme Leader sits on the throne, elevated above his subordinates, and his personal guards line the walls to the left and right of him. Kylo’s never seen their faces; he wonders if they even have any.

In the middle of the room, a black metal table is set for nine people. Kylo sits at the end of it facing Snoke, while his Knights, Hux, and Phasma take their places along the sides. Everyone, except Hux, is still wearing their helmets.

There are nine of them to the eight guards and Snoke himself. Kylo likes those odds.

But first, the pleasantries. They need Snoke lulled into complacence before they make their move.

“Remove your helmets, gentlemen,” Snoke says, an order disguised as a suggestion. “Lady,” he adds, tilting his head at Phasma.

Kylo feels a spike of irritation from Ap’lek, weak enough to be hidden by the others’ projected deference.

When the helmets are deposited on the table, Snoke waves his hand, and droids file into the room, bringing dishes. The food is, as always, simple: nerf meat, some root vegetables, emerald wine to drink. Kylo watches as Ap’lek rubs at their filed-off Zabrak horns and knows they’re itching to jump into battle already. Ushar presses his palms together in front of himself and whispers a prayer in his native tongue, while Kuruk stares at his steak with a lip curled in disgust.

“Eat, drink, relax, my children,” Snoke says, his voice lilting lightly, magnanimously, while his Force fingers brush against Kylo’s mind. He supposes the others feel the same intrusion.

I will bring the traitor to justice, he thinks casually, just a passing musing, not strong enough to be a projection, more like a general mood he wants Snoke to see. It’s not a lie, either; Snoke would sense that. What he won’t sense is that Kylo’s understanding of loyalty has changed lately.

The beauty of their plan is that Hux doesn’t have to change anything about his Force signature. He can be as rebellious and traitorous as he wants, and that will work fine.

Cutlery clinks, glasses are raised and put down, and it seems like an ordinary civil dinner, except there isn’t any conversation flowing. Instead, Snoke scopes the minds of everyone present, ensuring that they’re still his faithful soldiers, pouring just a bit of persuasion into their receptive souls. This is how it’s worked every time, but today, Kylo’s Knights possess a conviction stronger than that little nudge, and nothing could ever shake Phasma’s loyalty, not that Kylo can think of. As for Hux, his mind was never susceptible to outside influences.

“We have newcomers in our midst,” Snoke starts at leisure, gesturing to Hux and Phasma, who sit at the far end of the table from Kylo, closest to Snoke. “General, Captain.” Hux and Phasma nod. “How are you finding our humble gathering?”

“It’s a great honor,” Hux answers for both of them. “We are very grateful to the Supreme Leader for inviting us to attend.”

“Such a smooth talker.” Snoke laughs. It’s an odd, creaking sound. “My, my.” He shakes his oversized head. “Tell me, General, how is your pet project coming along? Do not worry—there are no secrets among those present here.”

Hux clears his throat and folds his hands on the table, glancing around to meet everyone’s eyes.

“The Starkiller project is progressing well, Supreme Leader,” he reports, voice clipped and devoid of any emotion, though Kylo can feel the underlying pride shimmering in Hux’s Force signature. Regardless of his attitude to Snoke, he cherishes this secret weapon of his. “Despite the adverse climate of the planet, construction is proceeding on schedule, and the First Order will soon possess the greatest weapon in the galaxy. We will be unstoppable,” he proclaims, a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. “Supreme Leader,” he adds, an afterthought.

“And you, Captain?” Snoke addresses Phasma. “What is your take on the project?”

“I am only responsible for managing the human resources,” Phasma says evenly. “Rest assured, Supreme Leader, I will always do my part to secure the might of the First Order.” Her blue eyes stare at the desiccated figure on the throne, but there’s no devotion in them, only steel.

“Good, good.” Snoke nods in time with his words. “Do you see, my Knights, my apprentice?” He gestures grandly at the General and his Captain. “These are my most loyal officers. They will do anything to promote my excellence.” Kylo stiffens. Snoke is preparing to strike. “Now tell me,” he begins sweetly, turning to Hux, “how do you explain your tongue straying so far from your mind, General?”

Silence hangs over the table, stuffy with anticipation. Kylo watches his Knights reach for their weapons, secured behind their chairs—appearing ready to cut down the traitor, should Snoke order it. Hux’s face doesn’t change, and neither does Phasma’s.

“I don’t understand,” Hux says, making no effort to look confused.

Snoke laughs again, the sound grating on Kylo’s nerves.

“Did you think you could hide from me?” He leans his head on his hand. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear your opinion of me? Did you think I would let you kill my generals as you please?” He raises his voice at the last question, letting his anger mix into the incredulity.

“I have not killed anyone,” Hux says, and it’s technically true: he wasn’t the one to pull the trigger—or activate the trash compactor.

“General!” Snoke roars, Hux’s insolence getting to him. He lifts one hand and Hux’s chin is yanked up uncomfortably. With his other hand, Snoke holds Phasma still. “I do not tolerate treason. I do not tolerate lies. I do not tolerate arrogance.”

“Then—you should—get rid—of all—your generals,” Hux pushes out, voice as steady as possible with invisible fingers wrapped around his throat.

Kylo wants to jump in right then and there, but he knows Hux isn’t in danger yet. Snoke will want to make a spectacle, not just choke the traitor and be done with it.

“I sense turmoil in your mind, my apprentice,” Snoke lilts, turning toward Kylo, Hux still held in his grasp. “What’s the matter? Do you want to kill the treasonous snake yourself?”

“Yes, Master,” Kylo replies honestly. He does want exactly that.

Snoke stretches his lips in a hideous grin.

“I will consider it,” he says, waving his hand. Hux’s chair scrapes back and he’s yanked from it, dropped to his knees, and dragged toward Snoke’s waiting figure. Kylo feels Phasma’s infuriation flood her Force signature, but she’s held still, unable to move. The Knights keep their calm, their signatures betraying nothing except mild amusement.

“You harbor a great deal of the Force,” Snoke drawls, looking Hux up and down. “Arkanisian magic, isn’t it?” He tilts his head as if he’s just heard something unexpected. “Oh? Your Captain didn’t know?”

Phasma’s face remains blank. Kylo feels surprise in her thoughts, but no wavering of her allegiance to Hux.

“You should trust your people more, General,” Snoke chastises Hux with mock consideration. “Or you will find yourself betrayed by an ignorant cur one day.” He flicks his fingers and Hux’s head snaps back, as if he’s been slapped.

I will kill him, Kylo thinks vehemently, stopping short of specifying the exact subject of his hatred. Snoke cuts him a look of delight and understanding.

“A lovely sight, isn’t it, my apprentice?” His voice flows like tarnished honey. “The proud general, brought to his knees before me. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“It is, Master,” Kylo answers, glad again that he doesn’t have to lie.

Snoke twists his wrist, and Hux’s body lifts into the air, pulled by the center of his chest. His hands twitch at his sides as he strains against Snoke’s grip. The Force inside him boils, ready to spill over, right into Kylo’s veins.

“You should have stayed loyal to me,” Snoke laments. “But it’s not too late.” He spreads his fingers, aiming his palm at Hux. “I can still use your magic.”

“No!” Kylo jumps up from his seat, unable to wait any longer. The red guards shift forward, their weapons aimed at him. His Knights tense, each ready to spring up into battle.

Slowly, Snoke turns from Hux to Kylo. His face ripples, one eyebrow climbing up.

“No?” He tilts his head, considering Kylo. “Ah. I see. You have betrayed me as well.”

Without a warning, blue lightning leaps from his outstretched fingers, aimed at Hux. Instead of hitting him, though, it gets absorbed, and his skin starts glowing white, scales climbing up his neck. Displeased, Snoke clicks his tongue.

“Guards!” he hisses, hatred filling his eyes. “Kill them all.”

This is the moment, then. Before Snoke can conjure more lightning, Kylo leaps onto the table, skidding over its smooth surface towards Snoke, sending the plates and the glasses flying. The Knights grab their weapons, splitting up to meet the guards. As Snoke is forced to focus on Hux and Kylo, he drops his hold over Phasma, probably deciding someone who can’t even use the Force isn’t a threat. Without wasting a moment, she draws her blaster. A kyber-red bolt shoots through the air, and one of the guards only manages to avoid a fatal hit at the last moment. The shot burns straight through his armor, leaving him limping.

“What was that?” Snoke snaps his head to the side, glaring at the injured guard.

“Never—” Hux grits out, voice strained but steady, “underestimate—your—opponents.”

Kylo reaches the edge of the table and somersaults into the air, landing on bent legs just behind Hux’s suspended form. Vicrul, Ap’lek, and Cardo are already engaging their opponents, while Kuruk is advancing on his guard, and Trudgen and Ushar are back to back with three guards circling around them. Kylo doesn’t pay much attention to them; they can handle themselves. His priority is Snoke.

Truly, the time has come.

Snoke makes a wide sweep with his arm, throwing Hux’s body to the side where he crumples on the floor like a rag doll. He sends lightning towards Kylo, too fast for him to evade. The bolt of energy clips him on the shoulder, sending him a few meters backward. At least he hasn’t lost his footing.

“Fool!” Snoke rages. “You should have stood by me. We would have feasted on that magic together.” He draws his arm up, fingers crooked, preparing more lightning.

“That is not for you to decide,” Hux scoffs as he slides across the sleek floor toward Kylo, putting his body between him and Snoke.

The lightning hits him square in the chest, and he absorbs it again, throwing his arms wide. His hair falls out of its perfect style, turning wavy as if he’s underwater. His neck above the uniform is covered in scales, and so are the strips of his wrists, visible between his sleeves and his gloves. Kylo could spend days watching him in all his glory, but he’s got a Master to murder, so he stretches out his arm and pulls.

Hux’s power mingles with his own easily, like all the times they’ve practiced this. Snoke’s lightning brought all Hux’s magic reserves to the forefront, just as Kylo predicted it would. Fueled by Arka, he lifts into the air. Snoke watches him in disbelief.

“I have not taught you this,” he mutters, standing up to his full height. If Kylo were still his apprentice, he’d probably be intimidated.

As it is, he feels nothing but contempt for this creature.

“The student has surpassed the master,” he says coldly and thrusts out his hand, sending red lightning toward Snoke.

Snoke reacts fast, blue lightning meeting Kylo’s in the air. They sizzle against each other, crackling and sending sparks flying. Below, Hux’s eyes begin to glow and a gush of Force floods Kylo’s senses, making him dizzy with power.

He presses forward with an ugly scream, another bolt of red lightning blazing through the air, singing Snoke’s golden robes and launching him back into the throne. Roaring, Kylo descends on him, lightsaber drawn.

“Wait!” Snoke urges him, but Kylo isn’t interested in anything his former Master has to say.

Around them, vibroblades clash against vibroblades, blaster bolts zing through the charged air, beskar clangs against duramentium, and everything is chaos, but this chaos is leading to order, and Kylo is satisfied. One more moment, and it will all end. One more moment of feeding from Hux’s power, of joining their Force into an unstoppable flow, of functioning as one giant being in the realm of all possibilities.

He lands before Snoke, electricity dancing over his skin.

“We could have ruled the galaxy,” Snoke hisses, a last attempt to bring Kylo back.

“Don’t worry,” Kylo says, and with one long slash, he drives his lightsaber through Snoke’s neck. “I will.”

Snoke’s head rolls down, landing at his feet, his face forever frozen in surprise: wide eyes, wide mouth, eyebrows drawn high. He doesn’t spare it another glance.

In front of him, Hux collapses on the floor, the white glow around him fading. His scales crawl back, leaving his neck and his wrists. His hair drops, flopping over his forehead, and he breathes heavily, a hand pressed to his chest.

With his name on his lips, Kylo dashes forward, kneeling next to him.

“Are you all right?” he asks meaninglessly, putting his hands on Hux’s shoulders, steadying him.

Before Hux can reply, one of the red guards comes running toward them, Trudgen in pursuit. He’s not fast enough, and the guard’s electro-chain rips through the air, aimed at Hux’s exposed back.

Kylo throws his arm up, stopping the whip mid-flight. The guard tries to wrestle it out of his Force grip but Trudgen finally catches up with him and buries his vibrocleaver in his back.

“Good save, Master,” he grunts, yanking his weapon out and letting the fresh corpse fall to the floor.

Kylo pays him no heed.

“Hux,” he calls, still waiting for an answer. “Hux.”

“Fine.” Hux’s voice is tense, but he doesn’t sound hurt. “I’m fine.” He raises his head, eyes fixed on the throne where Snoke’s body is still lingering. “Help me up.”

As the fight around them dies down, the red guards scattered on the floor in formless heaps, Kylo grasps Hux’s hand and pulls him to his feet. Gathering himself, Hux strides forward, kicking Snoke’s head out of the way.

Reaching the throne, he grabs Snoke’s body and shoves it aside, letting it roll down the raised platform. He doesn’t spare it another glance.

Kylo watches him, heart pounding in his chest.

“This is mine,” Hux mutters, sitting on the throne, his back straight, his hands resting on the arms with the calm confidence of power, green eyes shining with unchallengeable superiority.

A silence falls over the room, one where everyone is afraid to breathe lest they violate something big, something larger than any of them.

Vicrul is the first to find the right word.

“Emperor,” he says, banging his fist against his chest and taking the knee before Hux.

“Emperor,” Ap’lek follows, with none of their usual sarcasm.

The rest of the Knights echo them, all coming together to kneel in a half-circle. Phasma joins them, her metal-clad fist clanking against her breastplate.

Kylo holds Hux’s gaze. He’s the last one standing in the room. The air between them is filled with swirling Force. It’s excruciating; it’s magnificent; it’s transcendent.

“My Emperor,” he says, loud enough for the words to echo, and he takes the knee before this man who has changed his entire life.

“My loyal Hound,” Hux says in return, and for the first time ever, Kylo knows exactly where he belongs.

Chapter Text

They leave the din of the celebration behind, letting General Phasma take care of the revelers. In the years since she exchanged her chromium armor for a pressed uniform, she’s been exhibiting a taste for pomp and glamor which Kylo hadn’t previously suspected of her. It suits her, though, and who’s he to judge anyway? Plus, her new role takes her away from Hux, for which he is glad, his jealousy burning bright as always.

He himself is still getting used to showing his face in the open, not covering his green skin anymore. The new Emperor made it clear at the first Galactic Peace Day, appearing in a low-cut tunic with his glowing red scales in full view, that hybrids were no longer the scum of the stars. During the second anniversary of the First Order Empire, Kylo forwent his mask for the first time, and no one said a word. Now, both their faces are printed on various Empire merchandise, feared and, Kylo likes to think, quite beloved.

The Starkiller demonstration, bright red rays turning five dead planets into space dust, was broadcast all over the galaxy. Hux’s speech as he commanded the strike made it perfectly plain: he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to the homeworld of anyone who dared to defy him. In fact, the initial plan, as approved by Snoke, had been to destroy the Hosnian system, wiping out the New Republic’s political center. However, after a long and thoughtful discussion with his Hound, Hux had decided that the waste of potential resources didn’t justify such an ambitious move. One by one, systems pledged their loyalty to the new Emperor anyway, and soon, his new Empire stretched far and wide. If someone disagreed, Kylo and his Knights stepped in, their lethal persuasion skills sufficient to avoid actually firing the Starkiller.

Hux’s most ferocious weapon hasn’t taken a single life, and yet it helped him to establish his rule over more worlds than one can count. Everything went exactly as he planned, and every day, Kylo worshiped him more and more.

Even now, looking at him walking into their shared quarters on Coruscant, tugging off his white, gold-trimmed gloves, Kylo can’t help but sigh through his nose, needing all his willpower to prevent himself pouncing on Hux and ripping all his clothes off.

He can be patient. They have all the time in the world.

“You are awfully quiet,” Hux remarks, slipping his white cape off his shoulders and throwing it behind his back. Kylo catches it with the Force, guiding it to its place in the closet.

“It’s been a long day.” He isn’t a big fan of banquets and ceremony, although he was trained in court etiquette in his early years, when his mother still operated under the illusion that her hybrid son may one day find his place in the galaxy.

Kylo spares her a thought, wondering what stars-forsaken planet she and her little ragtag team have found refuge on. Shortly after the demonstration, the ‘Resistance’ launched an attempt to sabotage the Starkiller, trying to exploit a supposed weakness that had already been ironed out. They didn’t even manage to penetrate Ilum’s atmosphere, let alone do any damage.

The last time Kylo saw either of his parents was when they sent him off to his uncle’s academy. Some part of him, a tiny little speck that still wears a Padawan braid and looks at the galaxy with wide, hungry eyes, wants them to see him now, standing right at the top, his face out there in the open. A larger, more honest part of him knows that what he really wants is to see them himself, to witness their humiliation and collect their begrudging pride. For they must be proud—he’s achieved more than they have ever dreamed for him, more than they could foresee in their short-sighted vision of the future. Granted, he’s done it by crushing all their hopes and violating all their principles, but they’re still his parents, aren’t they?

Somewhere, on some tiny rock, they’re looking at the sky—and they see his face.

For him, it’s enough.

“You’re brooding, my darling.” Hux’s cold fingers touch his cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Kylo nods, a lump in his throat making him silent. Hux takes his hand, leading him to the giant vanity table by one of the walls. He takes off Kylo’s black, gold-trimmed cape, and Kylo guides it through the air to the closet as well. In the mirror, he sees Hux looking at him, and there’s genuine tenderness in those ruthless eyes, something Kylo will never get used to.

To have Hux here, his fingers carefully untangling the braids in Kylo’s hair, it’s beyond mind-boggling. It’s the greatest mystery in the galaxy, and yet it’s real, tangible, perceptible by all Kylo’s senses. Here’s Hux’s beautiful face, here’s his smooth skin, here’s the scent of power and space dust. Kylo catches Hux’s hand and brings it to his lips, tasting the faint tang of salt.

“What’s that for?” Hux asks, and there’s his voice, silky in the privacy of their boudoir, a tone that no one else ever hears from him, of that Kylo is sure.

Kylo looks up at Hux in the mirror, still unable to speak. Hux’s face softens into a smile, a slight curve of his lips that makes Kylo’s heart skip a beat.

Without another word, Hux takes a comb made out of purrgil bone and drags it gently through Kylo’s hair, smoothing it out. He gets a cleansing pad and swipes it over the golden eyeshadow Kylo’s wearing. Kylo closes his eyes, letting Hux remove his ceremonial make-up.

They don’t speak during this ritual, but they don’t need to. The Force flows between them, letting them share their feelings without the hindrance of clumsy words. Hux’s magic is exactly that—magic, bathing Kylo in the warm waves of affection until he’s a melted mess.

Someone knocks on the door, two quick knocks, then three slower ones. Hux places a kiss on each of Kylo’s eyelids before stepping away.

“Your dinner, sirs,” Mitaka’s voice comes from behind the door.

“Yes, yes,” Hux says impatiently, letting him in with a cart of food. “Now leave us.”

Not needing to be told twice, Mitaka bows politely and retreats, closing the door without a sound. The transition to being the Emperor’s Personal Assistant went smoothly for him, especially seeing that he was already doing the job anyway. Quick, discreet, and properly terrified, he’s the best asset Hux has, second only to Phasma.

Well. Maybe third, if Kylo counts himself.

He stands from his chair, joining Hux by the cart.

“Still want to have nutrition in the Empire delivered via IVs?” Hux teases him, assessing the selection before them.

Kylo takes a piece of jogan fruit and puts it into his mouth. “You can’t deny it would be more efficient,” he says around the mouthful of juicy flesh.

“You can’t deny you prefer indulgence to efficiency.”

Kylo swallows. “That I do.”

A few years ago, it would have been a lie. Back when he still thought himself undeserving of all the nice things, he would have always preferred strictness and simplicity. Now, though. Now he wants it all.

Hux takes a large shell with an oblong of purplish meat in it, sloshing in clear juice. With his other hand, he picks up a wedge of citrus fruit and squeezes it onto the meat. It squeaks, then falls silent. Satisfied, Hux brings the shell to his lips and sucks the mollusk into his mouth, slurping gleefully.

“That looks like snot,” Kylo comments, mildly disgusted. “Ocean snot.”

Hux shrugs. “I was raised by the ocean,” he says haughtily and does the same with another shell.

Chuckling, Kylo starts on his own food, chunks of well-braised meat with steamed vegetables from all over the galaxy. He still doesn’t have a particularly refined palate, but he knows good food when he sees it, and here, in the palace, all food is good.

When they’re finished, Hux summons Mitaka to take the cart away, closing the door behind him. He turns around, leaning back against the black wood, and looks at Kylo, face dreamy.

“What?” Kylo shifts in place, slightly unnerved.

“I hated you so much,” Hux says, his voice nostalgic. “From the very beginning.”

“I know.” Kylo takes a step toward him. “I hated you, too.”

Hux laughs, a short burst of sound.

“What a pair we make.”

Kylo takes another step, then another, until he’s standing right in front of Hux. He laces his fingers through Hux’s, needing to feel his skin against his.

“I think we make a good one,” he says, and realizes that he’ll break into pieces if Hux doesn’t agree with him.

“We do,” Hux assures him. “Yes, we do.” He frees one of his hands and brings it to cup Kylo’s face. “You know, you did turn on the First Order in the end.”

“I didn’t turn on you,” Kylo points out.

“No,” Hux agrees. “You did not.”

They stand there, watching each other, looking at the years that have passed between them. Kylo remembers the first time he saw Hux, that haughty, aggravating man who started their acquaintance with accusing him of treachery. He remembers the first time he saw Hux’s scales and he remembers the first time he saw Hux’s Arkanisian form. His hand comes to rest over Hux’s, pressing it closer to his cheek.

“I wanted to kill you, you know,” Hux says conversationally, his eyes tender on Kylo.

Kylo didn’t know that, but he isn’t surprised.

“I assumed as much.” Their animosity during that first year was legendary. Kylo himself wanted to kill Hux so many times.

Hux shakes his head.

“You don’t understand.” He traces Kylo’s cheekbone with his thumb. Kylo shivers under his touch. “I planned to use you and your silly infatuation and then get rid of you, after you helped me eliminate Snoke.”

Reading Hux’s feelings in the Force is difficult, with Arka muddling Kylo’s sight. But he knows that Hux is telling the truth. It should make him grow cold; instead, it just makes him curious.

“Why didn’t you?”

It’s a simple question, but Kylo doesn’t expect a simple answer. Hux is a complicated man, calm on the outside, a storm on the inside. Kylo has seen glimpses of his emotions, has seen him come undone in moments of intimacy, but there’s still so much he hasn’t experienced with Hux. Holding his breath, he waits for Hux to reply.

Hux lifts his other hand and drags a long, gold-painted nail along Kylo’s cheek. His eyes are distant, contemplative, as if he’s wondering whether to tell Kylo the truth. For a moment, Kylo thinks Hux is going to release his sleeve blade and kill him then and there.

Not that Kylo would hold it against him.

He doesn’t care if he lives or dies. Without Hux, life means nothing to him, and he wouldn’t miss it. This is the power the man holds over him; this is the power Kylo is ready to give to him.

“Why indeed?” Hux muses, a vague smile playing on his lips. Kylo still doesn’t breathe. “I must have grown quite fond of you, Ren.”

Leaning up, Hux presses a kiss to Kylo’s lips, and Kylo exhales into his mouth.

So far, life seems good.

“I should take advantage of that, shouldn’t I?” He leans back a bit and catches Hux’s hands in his, bringing them to his lips.

“If you can,” Hux challenges, his green eyes glinting.

Moving smoothly, Kylo picks Hux up, cradling him in his arms, and carries him to the center of the room where a giant tub filled with ocean water is embedded in the floor. Hux makes no sound when Kylo drops him into it with a loud splash, his royal clothes soaked through immediately, his hair starting to fall out of its neat style.

“Did you get me where you want me?” Hux asks, somehow keeping his regal bearing even when completely drenched.

“Yep.”

Kylo sheds his black, gold-trimmed robes and plunges naked into the tub to settle there opposite Hux. Diving in, he begins removing Hux’s clothes, fighting the intricate sets of knots and clasps. Hux spreads his arms over the edge of the tub, content to observe Kylo’s struggle without participating in it.

“Summon me a glass,” he orders nonchalantly as Kylo starts unsticking his trousers from his skin.

“Bossy fuck,” Kylo grumbles into the water, not caring that Hux can’t hear him. He throws an arm out of the tub and floats a flute of sparkling emerald wine from the vanity table into Hux’s waiting hand. Hux doesn’t thank him.

When he finally gets Hux naked, chucking his wet clothes out on the floor, spreading water everywhere, he swims up to him, caging his upper body between his arms.

“What do you want, Ren?”

Hux’s expression is that of innocent curiosity, a careful mask belied by the twinkle in his impossible eyes.

He knows full well what it is Ren wants.

“Change.”

“Ah.”

A smile curves Hux’s lips as he takes a sip of his wine and snaps the fingers of his other hand. His body shifts, legs merging into a glorious crimson-scaled fishtail, its flukes tilting upward, tickling Kylo’s shins.

“Satisfied?”

“Very.”

Kylo dips for a kiss, swirling his tongue over Hux’s lips, tasting the wine on him. The decadence of their situation isn’t lost on him, but he doesn’t care. They’ve earned this. They’ve earned it all.

Indulging him, Hux kisses back, nipping at Kylo’s lips, pushing at his tongue with his own. The thing between them thrums, powerful enough to blow up a few planets—or maybe even the galaxy itself. The two of them, they can change the world, have changed the world, will change it again if it dares not match their standards.

When their mouths separate, Hux’s eyes are burning on him. His pupils are huge, and his cheeks are dusted pink, and if Kylo listens closely, he can hear his Force signature pulse with desire.

“Dive,” Hux says, a thin finger pushing at Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo smirks.

“Yes, Emperor.”

Sliding his hands down Hux’s sides, he ducks under the surface, letting the water filter through his gills. Down there, Hux’s cock is already peeking out of the slit in his tail, and Kylo hurries to meet it.

“What do we have here?” he mutters, words turning to bubbles immediately.

The curved tip of Hux’s cock is protruding out of his tail, red and vulnerable. Kylo’s overcome with an instinct to protect it, take it inside his body, curl around it so no one else can touch it.

With his fingers digging into Hux’s scaled hips, he touches the tip of Hux’s cock with his tongue, tasting the rubbery skin. Salt mingles with salt, and he loves it, loves the sting of it, the freshness, and the inevitability. This cock, to him—it’s fate, simple and true, and he swallows it down eagerly, sealing it in the perfect vacuum of his mouth.

Slowly, he coaxes it further out of Hux’s tail, and soon, it extends to its full length, from the hooked tip to the sturdy base. Kylo presses kisses to the little gray spots dotting the thicker part of Hux’s cock, licking thin stripes between them, joining them into constellations. Hux’s tail quivers under him, and although Hux himself stays silent, Kylo knows he’s affected, his magic swirling brilliantly around him.

He drags his tongue over the curve of Hux’s cock, sucks the very tip into his mouth, water rushing in between his teeth. Letting the tip go, he breathes out against it, making bubbles hit the sensitive skin. The flukes of Hux’s tails jerk under him, and he grins.

“You like that, huh.”

It doesn’t matter that Hux can’t hear him. He’s got what he needs.

Rubbing his nose against the base of Hux’s cock, he blows air out of his nostrils, letting the bubbles drag across the curve. Hux’s tail jerks again, and Hux’s hand lands on Kylo’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.

Somewhere above the water, Kylo’s name drops from Hux’s lips, and Kylo’s own cock twitches, blood rushing to it.

Pushing the demands of his own anatomy aside, Kylo focuses on Hux’s cock. He swallows the top half of it and fills his mouth with water, swishing it around until Hux’s tail jerks again. With a soft moan, he wraps his tongue around the sharp curve, sucking and lapping like a hungry massiff.

Hux’s hand moves from his shoulder up his neck, nails scratching the green skin. He lays his palm over Kylo’s pulse, just above his gills, and stretches his fingers to the back of Kylo’s head, scratching at the base of his skull.

Kylo purrs, pleased with the caress, and he knows Hux can feel the vibration. Something clinks loudly above the water; must be the glass, put down a bit too forcefully.

Opening his mouth wide, Kylo sucks Hux down to the base, laving his cock with his eager tongue, almost choking on its sheer girth but pushing through nonetheless.

“Fuck, Ren,” Hux mutters, and his scaled hips thrust upward, a shallow, barely restrained movement that makes Kylo smirk around Hux’s cock.

His Force signature swells between them, white and blinding. Kylo feels pleasure, first and foremost, but also—surprisingly—gratitude, and a hefty bit of adoration. He looks closely, but there’s no murder lurking anywhere under any of it. Either Hux is that good at hiding his true intentions, or they’re really and truly past that part of their relationship.

Regardless, Kylo continues sucking, bobbing his head up and down underwater, like he’s diving for jaquira fruit at a fall festival on Chandrila. Hux’s hand swipes further up, his fingers clutching at Kylo’s hair in earnest, making Kylo’s scalp tingle. He presses the flat of his tongue against the hook of Hux’s cock, curling it around the tip, and Hux starts trembling under him.

It doesn’t take long for Hux to shudder and release spurts of come into Kylo’s mouth, which he swallows greedily. He might scoff at Hux’s love for ocean snot, but he himself is a devoted connoisseur of his own kind of ocean-flavored offerings, so he really shouldn’t judge. Lapping Hux’s cock clean, he gives it a last gentle suck and surfaces, throwing his wet hair back from his face.

Hux looks magnificent. Pale lips hanging open, eyelids heavy, flush high on his cheeks. The magic flowing around him vibrates with pleasure, and Kylo’s pride swells.

He’s done this to this man. He, a mongrel, once the scum of the galaxy and now its rightful prince, he has the power to reduce Emperor Armitage Hux to a blushing mess. It’s his most secret ability; it’s also the one he cherishes the most.

Hux raises his hand out of the water, beckoning Kylo to swim closer. As he does, Hux lays his palm over Kylo’s cheek, bringing their faces together, and presses a soft kiss to Kylo’s lips, the tenderness of his touch blowing Kylo’s mind.

“Good boy,” Hux murmurs, and everything inside Kylo jumps at the praise.

His cock is hard between his legs, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the wishes of his Emperor.

Hux’s eyelids flutter and he smirks at Kylo, his nails pressing against Kylo’s cheekbone.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

It must be a trick question. There’s only one possible answer to it.

“Yes,” Kylo breathes, not caring if it’s a trap. He’ll gladly walk into a raging fire if Hux tells him to, and he’ll just as gladly burn the entire galaxy.

Hux stretches lazily under Kylo, shaking out his tail as it transforms back into a pair of long legs covered with scales. His cock slides back into its slit, leaving his crotch neat and bare, like a duraplast doll’s. He gives Kylo another kiss, a long and soft one, his tongue only swiping gently at the seam of Kylo’s mouth, not seeking entrance. When they separate, Hux’s green eyes are burning, and Kylo is burning with them.

“Fuck me, then,” Hux orders, turning over in Kylo’s arms, his back iridescent in the splashing water.

Over and over again, Kylo cannot believe his luck. He presses his lips to the back of Hux’s head, his wet, slippery hair, and inhales the ocean scent of him, filling his lungs with it until he’s ready to burst. Exhaling slowly, he traces the line of Hux’s neck with his mouth, sucking lightly at each vertebra, feeling the smooth scales beneath his lips.

Sliding down, he keeps pressing kisses to Hux’s spine until he reaches the cleft of his ass. There, he doesn’t stop, dipping down between Hux’s buttocks, below the water. He lets his tongue swipe over the rim of Hux’s hole and grins when Hux’s entire body shudders.

“You—” Hux begins, but Kylo doesn’t let him finish the sentence, whatever it was supposed to be.

He presses his lips around Hux’s hole and exhales a stream of bubbles out of his mouth. Hux squirms, gasping. Delighted, Kylo presses the flat of his tongue against the rim and swipes it back and forth in a slow, deliberate motion. Hux’s thighs start to tremble under him, their contours shifting, like Hux isn’t in control of his own body anymore.

Kylo starts working on his hole in earnest, sucking and slurping, rolling his tongue in a circle, switching it up with short, fervent licks. When he hears Hux moan loudly, unable to hold it in, he thrusts his tongue through the ring of muscle, loosening it.

Above the water, Hux hisses, his back arching, as Kylo continues fucking his ass with his tongue. His fingers slide over the scales on Hux’s hips, stroking in the wrong direction, but he knows Hux likes the way it tugs on his tender skin.

“You filthy animal,” Hux pants, and Kylo doesn’t have to see to know that he’s clutching at the tub edge, his knuckles white, his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck me already.”

Mingling their powers together, Kylo floats Hux’s lower body, lifting his bare ass out of the water while he summons the lube from their bedroom. The golden bottle flies into his hand, caramel scent coming with it.

Hux’s hole is already loosened, so Kylo doesn’t waste too much time preparing him. As much as he loves the sight of Hux fucking himself on his fingers, his cock is painfully hard and he needs to get inside him sooner rather than later.

He squeezes the tips of his cock together as he lines himself up and pushes into Hux’s body. Sliding in, he lowers Hux back into the water and plasters himself over his back, clinging to his Emperor, his cock buried in his regal ass.

“Fuck yes,” Hux pants under him, so warm and utterly his.

Kylo moves inside him, adjusting the angle until he has Hux moaning on every thrust, his hands gripping Hux’s shoulders and his lips pressed to Hux’s hair. He fucks into Hux with a reverent urgency, both covetous and worshipful, wanting to debauch this man as much as elevate him.

Water splashes around them, and Kylo is taken back to their first time in the ocean, the joy of it, the dreamlike revelations. Every time with Hux is magnificent, but there’s something to be said about that first encounter, how Kylo never had a chance to be anything but loyal to Hux after that.

He thrusts into Hux now, and he can’t believe it’s something he’s allowed to do, something that Hux wants from him. He’d gladly live his life doing nothing but sucking Hux’s cock, and yet he gets to experience this as well. His orgasm rising, he bites down on the back of Hux’s neck, growling into Hux’s skin as pleasure hits him, complete and sudden.

Curling his hand around Hux’s hips, he finds Hux’s cock, hard again, and strokes its hooked tip until it bursts, muddying the water further with their sweat and spend.

“We’ll need to drain this again,” Hux mutters, but there’s no bite in his voice.

Kylo laughs lightly, pulling out of Hux and lying flat on top of him, a boneless heap of limbs.

“Third time this week, huh?” He grins into the back of Hux’s head.

Hux makes an exaggerated groan and turns to look at Kylo over his shoulder.

“Don’t be so pleased with yourself,” he chides. His soft eyes betray him.

Kylo smirks, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Hux’s lips.

“Admit it, you like it.”

Forgoing a reply, Hux turns around to face Kylo fully, his hands reaching for Kylo’s face. He looks at Kylo intently as his magic circles around them, moving through both of them, tying them together.

“You’re mine,” Hux says, and it isn’t an order, nor is it a claim. It’s a statement of a simple fact, one that Kylo has no intention of arguing with.

He kisses Hux, drinking the magic right off his lips. The bond between them is unbreakable, the threads of the Force stitching their fates together into immortality. They’ll be each other’s all their lives and all their next lives, too. Of this, Kylo has no doubt.

“Yes,” he whispers into the kiss. “Yes, Hux. I’m yours.”

It’s the truest thing he’s ever said. It is also, inevitably, the only truth that he wants.