[His breath hitches, teeth set. It takes a surprising amount of willpower to exercise control over his own senses, particularly with so few barriers between them— between the rest of the Nest and every sensation it transmits with aching clarity. In compensation, Ren grounds himself with his hands where they bear down to bracket Hux's hips, grip turned tight enough to bruise.
To keep the entirety of their contact from being too overwhelmingly pleasant; he needs the grit, the distant sting of shared pain as he arches his lower spine, actively setting the pace by measured degrees.
Bear down on the throttle, draw back on the yoke. Strange, how familiar it starts to feel after a little while.]
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To keep the entirety of their contact from being too overwhelmingly pleasant; he needs the grit, the distant sting of shared pain as he arches his lower spine, actively setting the pace by measured degrees.
Bear down on the throttle, draw back on the yoke. Strange, how familiar it starts to feel after a little while.]