[Posturing provides him a better buffer against how exposed he feels the instant Hux bares him to cold, circulating air— or the feverish heat of his tongue that follows, prompting a short flicker of apprehension that grips him to his core. Ren swallows it, willfully, determined to maintain that veneer of passive control as his fingers slip down to find purchase in the fabric of the couch, just along the back of the armrest and its adjacent cushion.
As he would on the battlefield, he steels himself against lesser urges; commits himself wholly to breathing, to watching and permitting himself the illusion of asserting dominance over his former rival now pinned between his legs on his knees, rather than accepting either reality or the intimacy that comes with it.
His teeth set, lip curled, jaw tight. He breathes, and this time, his breath hitches only for a moment.]
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As he would on the battlefield, he steels himself against lesser urges; commits himself wholly to breathing, to watching and permitting himself the illusion of asserting dominance over his former rival now pinned between his legs on his knees, rather than accepting either reality or the intimacy that comes with it.
His teeth set, lip curled, jaw tight. He breathes, and this time, his breath hitches only for a moment.]