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That steady footfall, that even rhythm of step that echoes down the shadowy corridors-- Kylo is sure he could hear it even without the Force. It permeates his entire being, the sound waves washing over him like an evening tide, rinsing him clean. He's sure his heartbeat is set to that calming metronome by now.
Hux's boots land with a clipped thud as he marches down the halls and Kylo's brooding thoughts scatter in the wake of the resonance. Tack, tack, tack. Hux is on his way here now, each step made with intent and purpose, no excess. He is tired. And wanting. Kylo smiles to himself. He feels it in his pulse and has to make a conscious effort to keep that blood from rerouting itself directly to his dick. There will be time for that later, but certain things must be seen to, first.
It is time to prepare. He rises from his seated meditation and goes to collect his supplies.
There is a ritual between them now, a procedure that has made this all so much easier. Kylo was always uncomfortable with intimacy, and Hux damn near repelled by it. Directly, anyway. But secretly, for far too long, they each craved it. It took them far too long to realize this about the other and to reach a solution that fit both their wants and their characters. Hux, all about protocol; Kylo eager to please, to prove himself. They both needed this game to act as the guidelines for how to nurture the thing growing out of control between them that resisted definition.
Regimented, regulated intimacy. In those earlier days, it gave them a fallback, a safety net of sorts where they could explore their feelings and desires within a framework they understood without scaring themselves, or each other, away. The nature of their arrangement has, of course, changed since those earlier days and they are both more bold, less scared, and not nearly as alone. This 'thing' between them has been defined, publicly before the entire galaxy, their entire kingdom and they've functioned as a well-oiled machine ever since. Every cog and wheel in place. The entire galaxy beneath their heavy boots now. But these rituals, remnants of their earlier days, are still employed from time to time, much to their mutual enjoyment.
Kylo retrieves the box where he keeps his polishes and brushes and sets it beside the over-sized leather recliner in the bedroom, sensing Hux drawing nearer. It is no secret: he still loves this. The way his mind can focus on the single task with laser-sharp precision, freeing him from any other distractions. It is better than meditation, better than combat, even, for the finished product would please both parties in equal measure. And how he craves that satisfaction at the end, that turn of phase:
Excellent work, Kylo Ren. You've done well.
To be thought of as good, useful, to be not just needed, but wanted.
Even the preparation before what has come to be their tradition is calming. He lets go of all other mental activities and focuses solely on his task. For the next long while, Kylo's mind will be focused on this one thing. Service. A job well done. It is... nice. Liberating.
He returns to the antechamber when he hears the mechanical swoosh of the door closing behind Hux, who is shucking off his heavy coat, looking exhausted. Hux spares him a fleeting smile as Kylo takes the coat, then brushes past him with a tired sigh. It gives Kylo a certain measure of satisfaction knowing that Hux would neither smile nor sigh tiredly in the presence of anyone else.
He hangs Hux's coat neatly and trails after him, back into the room where Hux now sits in his recliner. His eyes had been shut, but they flutter open when Kylo walks in and settle on him expectantly.
With a smile that would have gone unnoticed by anyone but the two of them, Kylo retrieves a bottle of Corellian whiskey from the top shelf of the armoire and pours a modest amount into a tumbler. Neat. Of course.
Returning to where Hux is reclining, he hands him the small glass. Hux takes it, mirroring that nearly-invisible smile. Words are not necessary between them anymore. They have this down to a science.
Kylo waits for Hux to hand over his datapad and takes it from him when he finally does, turning it off. Hux grimaces as if he's losing an actual limb, but he'll soon have other things to think about.
Kylo sets the datapad aside and stands before him. He keeps his eyes locked on Hux's as he peels off the undershirt he's wearing and tucks it into the back of his slacks, drinking in the way Hux watches with one corner of his lips curling slowly upwards. Hux likes it when Kylo is half-naked for this, Kylo can tell from the waves of desire radiating from him. Even without the Force, it would be obvious-- the way his pupils dilate as they trace the contours of his body, over the ripples of muscle and myriad scars and spots that mark him uniquely. All mine.
In the earlier days, Hux's desire had been tinged with a dose of shame and inadequacy over his own body that Kylo could sense through the Force. Kylo had liked that, at the time. It gave him a certain satisfaction to know that Hux recognized Kylo's obvious superiority over him. But with time, Kylo had come to realize how mistaken he was. About everything, but about Hux in particular.
Back then, Kylo would have never even considered doing what he willingly, enthusiastically, lovingly does now. Back then, all he knew was blind rage. Hatred and anger, focused to such a microscopic pinpoint of fury. He knew how to take that and destroy, destroy, destroy. It was when he was without target, no focus, that he felt lost and adrift. All of these feelings but no outlet for them.
But all of that is irrelevant now, because he has an outlet for all of his big emotions now, one that does not focus solely on the destruction, but rather a more holistic approach that encompasses care and maintenance as well. Respect for Hux's property, which in turn shows respect for Hux himself. It's a purpose that both satiates and builds him because he knows that respect is returned. Here, in this room, where Hux is sitting before him calm and relaxed because he now trusts with full confidence that Kylo has no intention of betraying him anymore. If he ever did remains an inconsequential unknown between them. Now, there is nothing but mutual respect for each other's individual roles.
Hux sips his whiskey, and having broken eye contact means Kylo is free to continue about his business. Leaving him to his drink, Kylo goes to wash his hands, cleansing them from the sweat and oils they'd picked up during the day's activities. He returns, wearing only his slacks, the shirt still tucked into the back like some uncivilized Resistance mechanic of old. In the back of his mind, Kylo wonders if that adds anything to the allure for Hux and files it away to ask later. For now, he is to stay focused.
He sinks to his knees before Hux and waits for permission to begin. Hux gives him something resembling a smile before taking another sip of his drink and tilting his head back to rest on the leather of the chair. He exhales, shifts and sticks his right leg out, boot falling into Kylo's waiting lap. The rich scent of leather filling his nostrils makes Kylo's mouth water. His fingers itch to touch it, to run his hands all along the cured hide, but he must wait. It is part of his training.
“You may begin,” Hux says, finally.
There is nothing else now, only Kylo and this task, the boot in his lap. The boot in his lap that is an extension of Hux, who is happy to indulge him in this ritual because he knows that Kylo is capable.
With the right amount of enthusiasm and self-restraint, Kylo eagerly sets to his task. He shuffles around the various tins of soap, mineral spirits, and polish in his supply box and begins by taking a spray bottle and coating the boot in his lap with a gentle mist of water. Setting the bottle aside and reaching for his brush, Kylo glances up at Hux's face. His head is back and his eyes are shut. He trusts that Kylo knows what he's doing and will execute his task to perfection. He doesn't feel the need to keep a critical eye on him anymore. Those days are long over. It feels good to be trusted so wholly.
Smiling to himself, Kylo dabs the brush into a vile of soap. He scrubs the soft leather of Hux's boots gently in small circles, working the soap into a foam and ensuring that every centimeter is touched, from the very top of his knee-high boots to the heel, the toe, everywhere in between.
There are some people, perhaps, who would want to converse with their bootblack while being serviced like this, but Kylo knows Hux is not one of those people. Right now, Hux wants to sit, datapad and comlink off, in blissful silence as Kylo works. Hux enjoys this process just as much as he does, simply sitting back at the end of a long day and being taken care of after so long of having to take care of everything else.
He is detail-oriented and high-maintenance, critical to a fault, but it is precisely because of these reasons that Kylo enjoys being in his service. Hux would never pat him on the head and feed him empty praise. Hux would never say “it's okay” when clearly it wasn't. Hux wouldn't lie to appease him. Hux doesn't care about appeasing anyone. And yet, also he is fair in equal measure. If something is done to his satisfaction, he will acknowledge it as such. And Kylo wants nothing more than to service and appreciate his high standards. He takes great pride in being wanted by someone so discerning.
With his off-hand, he holds the boot by the ankle, relishing the way the smooth leather feels beneath his fingertips. This was once the skin of a living, breathing organism. All but unrecognizable now in its new purpose. He wonders what human-skin leather might feel like beneath his fingertips and if that idea is in any way appealing to Hux. He mists the shoe again lightly and clears away the soapy water with a clean cloth Hux had bought for him on a diplomatic mission several cycles ago to a Core planet known for its fabrics, just for these occasions. Hux has never been particularly forthcoming with his feelings or sentiment, but the magnitude of this gesture did not go unnoticed. It is the most cherished gift Kylo has ever received.
Having spent most of his last week on-ship in meetings, working out painstaking details of some mining operation that Kylo decided long ago didn't interest him, Hux's boots aren't actually in poor shape this time, but that doesn't mean Kylo is going to do a job that is less than perfect. He takes purposeful pride in his work now, knowing that it will be properly assessed and rewarded, everything from the righteous slaughterings down to this: ensuring that Hux is taken care of. Properly.
With a different cloth, he dabs into the vile of mineral spirits and uses it to strip Hux's boot of the old layers of polish he'd applied the last time Hux had allowed him the opportunity. The process had taken significantly more time then, as they had just returned from a sodden Outer Rim world after a peacekeeping mission had taken a rather violent turn. Kylo still remembers the acrid smell of the alien enemies' blood he'd dutifully wiped from Hux's shoes later, and how darkly Hux had smiled down on him while he did so, telling him how sweet it was that the one who'd spilled that blood was the one cleaning it up now.
Kylo smiles to himself. The ensuing sex that night had been exceptional, Hux had let Kylo read his mind while he fucked him, projecting images of Kylo's lightsaber slicing easily through their opponents the entire time. They had both come so hard that night, too exhausted to clean themselves off before falling asleep and waking well past their normal rising times the next morning, still cradled in each other's arms. Another thing Kylo Ren would have never guessed he would one day enjoy.
Satisfied with the first coat, he repeats the process again, massaging the waxy polish into the boot. Once done, he closes his eyes and concentrates on warming his hands. He focuses on feeling the kinetic energy from the Force pulsing in his fingers and then pushes this warmth outwards to melt the layers of polish together and into the boot.
This, oddly enough, is Hux's favorite part. “Ah, finally a practical use for all of your magic,” he'd chided the first time Kylo had tried this technique. Indeed, even tonight Hux makes a soft keening noise as Kylo's hands warm his foot. Kylo doesn't have to tap into Hux's feedback to know that it feels good-- he can tell by how his frown lines have softened, his brow finally slack after far too many long hours spent in meetings and audiences.
Kylo works his hands up and down the tall boot, admiring the sparkling shine he's applied. He can see his face in the reflection, his eyes that don't look quite as tired and haggard now that Snoke is no longer whispering in his mind, the scar that still bisects his face, reminding him of the failures that he has yet to fully forgive himself for, but his vision shifts and he sees Hux's boot again, the fresh shine of the dark leather, and looks up and sees Hux, who has forgiven him, for everything.
Kylo places a kiss on his leg just above where the boot ends and pauses to inhale deeply. The smell of the polish is predominant, but the deep, rich scent of the cured leather is there just below it. The leather feels so good in his hands, and now that it's shined and polished, Kylo wants only to run his tongue along the leather from tip toe to shin bone. Wants to kiss the insides of Hux's booted ankles, perhaps even while fucking into him on the bed later, if Hux will allow it.
Hux isn't Force-sensitive in the least, and definitely not a telepath, but still he seems to know exactly what's on Kylo's mind and he shifts to offer up his left foot, grinding the heel of his boot down softly against the burgeoning tent in Kylo's crotch. Kylo dares a quick glance up at him and finds him smirking, but not cruelly. It's almost playful. For Hux, anyway. "Careful, Ren." He says, then sips his whiskey, leans his head back, and closes his eyes again.
With great effort, Kylo disregards his own bodily needs and returns his attention to the task at hand. He needs to stay focused. This here is like practice for the bigger assignments that Hux will send him on outside. And Kylo will excel at each of them. He repeats the blackening process on the second boot, taking his time, and once again ending with a kiss on Hux's shin.
He waits patiently, fists resting on his thighs, while Hux draws his leg up to rest on his right knee, inspecting the work Kylo has done to his boot. He runs a gloved finger up along the inside of his calf, sending a fresh coil of arousal through Kylo's groin.
He knows he's done a solid job. He's not worried. But still his chest blooms with pride and affection when Hux reaches his final assessment: “Excellent work, Kylo Ren.” Hux smiles. “You've done well.”
Kylo's lips quirk, he matches Hux's stare easily.
Hux's glass is empty now and he sets it aside, spreading his legs wide to make room for Kylo between them. Kylo doesn't have to be asked to scoot forward into the space meant for him. On his knees, his hands slide up the insides of Hux's thighs, upwards to pause on his belt buckle. He leans forward to kiss the metal.
“Shall I polish this, as well?” He asks with his lips pressed against the silver, a failed attempt to hide his sly grin. “Supreme Leader?”
Kylo's lungs fill as Hux smirks and runs a hand through Kylo's hair, resting at the back of his head. It's one of Kylo's favorite ways to be touched. Hux knows this, of course. “Ren,” he says fondly, the look in his eye telling him he will give Kylo anything he wants tonight.
And right now, Kylo wants to be kissed. As he tilts his head back and looks up at Hux with half-lidded eyes, Hux comes down to meet him halfway with parted lips and a welcoming mouth. Kylo's tongue passes against his slick and warm, wanted.
Hux's left hand is still in his hair, and his right comes to match it as Kylo's fingers begin working to unbuckle the clasp of Hux's belt and undo the buttons of his fly, untucking his shirtfront as he goes. Hux is only half-hard, so Kylo has to pull his cock from his underthings, running the pad of his thumb along the shaft to wake it up. It responds well to Kylo's ministrations and Hux makes a soft noise into Kylo's mouth as he shifts in his seat, gloved hands still around Kylo's head.
Kylo breaks their kiss, leaning back to catch Hux's lust-dazed look while he licks his lower lip. Hux sits back and allows Kylo to turn his attention to his hardened cock.
Kylo takes him in his mouth, wrapping his plush lips around his teeth first, hollowing out his cheeks to take Hux in all at once. He sinks all the way down, feeling him at the back of his throat, waits, then pulls off slowly, releasing him with a small pop. With soft licks at the underside of his shaft, Kylo drags his tongue all the way from base to tip before suckling on the head. He rolls his tongue around it and pulls off to lick off the beading precum.
“Mmm, Ren,” Hux is saying, unable to resist squirming as Kylo wraps his lips back around his cock, the hands in his hair tightening just slightly. Hux doesn't always have as much control as he thinks he does. “Fuck.”
Encouraged, Kylo swallows him whole again and keeps his mouth on him, bobbing hungrily, quicker when he feels Hux trying not to thrust up into the warmth of his slick mouth. Kylo's big hands slip up under the hem of Hux's tunic and move to wrap around his narrow waist, fingertips pressing into the soft skin there. Kylo can tell Hux won't last much longer now, his breath coming in ragged pants as he loses the battle against his self-restraint. Having Hux come undone in his hands is what Kylo lives for. He has known that since he met the man, but it took tragically too long before he realized that taking Hux apart could mean more than just petty quips slung at him on the bridge. No, having Hux unraveling under Kylo's servicing hands, coming hot down his throat, his sounds an unthinking blend of obscenities, meaningless syllables, and Kylo's name is what fuels Kylo's fire nowadays, and he drinks it in, every last drop, until Hux's cock is softening in his mouth, spent.
He pulls off slowly, careful not to make a mess, and raises his gaze to see Hux, eyes shut, pink-faced and glowing, his hair just slightly askew. A bead of sweat runs down his neck. Smiling, Kylo licks his lips. He tucks Hux back into his pants and redoes his buttons and belt, smoothing down the front of his tunic in the process. He sets his chin on Hux's thigh and waits, running his fingers up and down Hux's shined calves. Crouched between the newly polished boots with the scent of leather and polish in his nostrils and taste of Hux in his mouth, he is so, so hard now.
Hux peeks opens his eyes and looks down at Kylo, satiated. He again rakes his fingers through the dark curls and tucks a lock of hair behind Kylo's ear. “You've been rather good to me tonight, haven't you?”
Kylo know it's not a question that needs a response; it's Hux's way of doling out praise, which he is more than content to hear. He just wants to be told that he's done well, that he's capable of performing, that he's wanted. The look in Hux's eyes and the way his fingers are caressing his cheek tell him that he is.
“Rise.” Hux commands, and Kylo obeys.
“Take those off.”
Kylo obeys again, easily pushing his slacks down to his ankles. He's not wearing anything underneath and his dick is already so hard and flush, curling up towards his belly.
Hux smirks and reaches out with one leather hand to swat at it gently when Kylo steps out of his slacks and towards him. Kylo tries not to flinch and bites his lower lip. Hux seems more mellow tonight, perhaps tempered from Kylo's treatment earlier, and he doesn't drag out the teasing; he wraps his gloved fingers around Kylo's cock and gives it a few gentle strokes. Fuck, Kylo loves the feeling of those smooth leather fingers on his dick. Hux takes Kylo's foreskin between thumb and index finger and carefully pulls at it, eliciting a sharp gasp from Kylo.
“Kneel, here,” Hux commands, and Kylo does so again, sinking to his knees in the empty space between Hux's legs. Hux unfastens the first few clasps of his tunic, letting it open just enough so that he can reach into his shirt and pull out his old First Order dogtags that hang from a thin metal chain. Kylo watches with uncertain curiosity as Hux removes the chain from his neck with one hand and leans forward to place it around Kylo's neck. Kylo feels the the cold steel of the dogtags hit his chest and a surge of affection blooms in his chest. Hux's tags are a source of pride for the man, a symbol of where he started and how far he's come to get where he is now, and letting Kylo wear them is an almost unthinkable gesture of trust, and other things.
Surely Hux can read the astonished look on Kylo's face, but he chooses not to acknowledge it.
“Come here, sit,” he says instead, moving in his seat to make room for Kylo on his recliner, half astride his lap. It's a bit absurd for Kylo's giant lumbering figure to sit on Hux's lithe frame, but Hux isn't half as fragile as he looks, even without that ostentatious greatcoat he used to wear bulking up his outline. Besides, he's used to Kylo's weight by now. Likes it, even. Likes knowing this is all his to command.
Hux pulls Kylo closer against him, taking his cock again in one gloved hand, the other reaching around to grab hold of the tags that lie against his breast.
Kylo twists to brace himself by grabbing the chair's armrests and sucks in his lower lip as Hux increases the pressure on his dick. Hux tilts his chin up to suck at the crook of Kylo's neck, teasing the skin there with his teeth as he starts tugging him faster, harder, now with purpose, and Kylo moans as he gets closer, his hands gripping tight on the chair. Hux wraps the thin chain around his fingers and pulls Kylo ever closer. The chain digs into the soft flesh of Kylo's neck and it is physically impossible to get any closer, but yet still Hux is trying in this way, whispering soft praises and words far too sweet for his character as he jacks Kylo off.
"Good boy, so good for me, aren't you?"
Kylo groans weakly, forming not even words, barely more than a muffled cry as he fails to resist fucking into Hux's leather grip.
"It's all right, don't speak." Hux says, knowing Kylo is so impossibly close. "Come for me."
Hux's grip tightens again and gives the chain a sharp tug, the metal digging into the soft flesh at Kylo's throat at the same time as Hux's teeth sink into it. Kylo gasps and comes with a desperate moan, his body convulsing as he spills all over Hux's glove. Hux pulls him all the way through his orgasm until Kylo's head lolls forward against his chest. He rests there, panting, basking in the wake of his climax while Hux carefully slides his hand up Kylo's belly and chest, soiling him with his own release.
After a moment's pause, Hux pushes against his chest gently and Kylo sits up again, looking at Hux with half-lidded eyes and swallowing.
“Get this cleaned up,” Hux says, not unkindly. “And I'll meet you in bed.”
Kylo, out of words, nods rapidly and leans in to kiss Hux again.
Later, after they've both napped and rested some, Hux lets Kylo have him the way he likes best: on his back, wearing nothing save his leather gloves and the boots Kylo's just finished tending to, legs slung over Kylo's shoulders so he can press his mouth to the new shine, taste the leather on his tongue, smell it as he slides into Hux. Kissing the very boots that have crushed the galaxy beneath them.
“Yes,” Hux snarls through clenched teeth, throwing his head back. “My knight.” His hands are fisted in Kylo's hair again and he pulls sharply, threatening to rip out entire fistfuls as Kylo hammers into him.
Kylo is captivated by the way his eyes are screwed shut tightly, his brow creasing ever so slightly, features contorted in perfect bliss. Like this, Kylo feels Hux everywhere. Around his dick, beneath his grasping hands, and all around him as his Force signature hums with praise and affection-- love, perhaps.
It's not long before he has Hux coming again, spilling himself between their bodies with a strangled cry that sounds too much like “Ren” for Kylo to fight back the urge to finish immediately after, filling his ass with cum.
“Hux,” Kylo says, voice quiet in the darkness later. After they've both come down again and are lying side by side, bodies slick with perspiration.
Kylo hears Hux roll over and feels his hand touch his chest. Hux has taken his gloves off now, letting his bare fingers run along Kylo's torso to find his hand wrapped around the thin metal chain, which he still hasn't taken off.
“Can I keep this?” Kylo asks, hoping his voice sounded steadier aloud than it did in his head.
Hux's thumb runs along Kylo's knuckles. “Of course you may. Surely you must know that anything of mine is, by extension, yours as well."
Kylo's chest fills. He rolls over and takes Hux into his arms. “Thank you.”
Kylo can feel Hux nuzzle into the warmth of his chest, sighing contentedly with the knowledge that he, and his entire Empire, are in good, capable hands.
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