04. mental link

[exhuxperation]

COMMAND over oneself and others	AMBITION nothing will stand in my way
ORDER chaos will not be tolerated	MANY over the individual

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[exhuxperation]

[ He wants to hold out, a sick part of himself forming this up to be a matter of proving that he could do it. That he was stronger than the voices clamoring to tear him down, the minds transmitting their hate and anger. Over the mental static, he hears Ren's voice cut through close by, ignoring him on the first pass.

It's only when pain begins to bloom along his arm that he snaps from his concentration with a gasp, belatedly flinching away and finding he's unable to escape the iron grip. The noise is dimmer now, the sharpness dulled by his focus on the outside world. Hux blinks at Ren, wide-eyed, a protest shaping on his tongue.

As soon as it built up, it dies there, Ren's thinned lips telling him more than was said.

Moments pass as he struggles to close the connections, to leave him in the peace of his own head. Though even here, it's shattered in places, the calm order having withstood a turbulent storm. ]

Ren, I– [ I feel sick, I'm confused, I'm overwhelmed ]

[narcissithstic]

Enough. [Ren repeats, softer this time as his grip slips away into something less desperate, less demanding. Not a barked order, but a promise.

It isn't the first time he's suffered such permeating intensity; as a child he'd endured the screaming demands of a galaxy far beyond his understanding or comprehension. With help, without it, sometimes it felt as though there truly was no difference.]

You've done this before. [On the Station, with his guidance. The Finalizer, Hux's fears, his desperate cravings - mastery of the Nest's stirred outrage might seem more pressing in the moment, but the action of swallowing it down takes exactly the same technique, applied without apprehension or hesitation.

He leans down, voice little more than a whisper:] Breathe. Control it - don't let it control you.

[exhuxperation]

[ His head is spinning with all the noise, stomach flipping at the intensity of it all. Ren's grip softens and it brings his attention back more to the room. He takes a shaky breath, leaning in closer to the touch to help ground himself more.

They did do this, on the station. When Ren was first teaching him how to use his mental abilities. Focus. Breathe.

Hux thinks of durasteel walls, polished and forbidding. That image hangs in his mind as he pushes the walls outward to the noise until it's all sealed off. The sudden silence is odd but relieving. ]

Right. Right. [ Feeling the exhaustion of the stress, he tips his head to Ren's shoulder, setting his forehead against him. ]

[narcissithstic]

[His hold on Hux adjusts yet again, broad fingertips to the back of Hux's neck as he settles forward wearily. A brace. A place to recover from the storm while his senses are still reeling.

Instinctively Ren's own breathing goes soft, steady. It isn't often that he centers himself as Luke Skywalker had once taught him, but even the Sith can understand the merit of certain tried and true approaches— besides, he was valued by Snoke for his balance, not for his dedication to the dark side alone.]

I warned you about her.

[It isn't comforting, but he means well: it's not the first time she's shattered their pride, after all.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Hux has never been one to enjoy getting coddled. Long ago he might've, if his mother had stayed around. But Brendol had declared that a weakness. Depending on others was the worst thing to do when it came to emotion and mental state. Nearly a crime in his father's book.

But Brendol isn't here to tell his son the many ways he's failed. So Hux leans into the touch fully, breathing coming down from the adrenaline spike. Ren is warm even through his shirt, a comforting heat against the side of his forehead and cheek. His mind slows, the ringing in his ears quieting the longer he simply stays where he is, eyes unfocused on the pattern of Ren's shirt. The low vibration of Kylo's voice transfers through to his bones due to the closeness. Tentatively, he loops his arms around Ren's middle, keeping him where he was. ]

We'll outlast her.

[narcissithstic]

Already her resolve is weakening.

[He'd felt her rage, her desperation and willingness to delve beneath the surface of his thoughts. It'd been unpleasant at the time, painful besides, but then he's always been accustomed to sacrifice for a cause.

In this case, bending the scavenger to his will.

His thumb scuffs upward along the curve of Hux's spine, drawing idle, lazy circles.]

She'll submit to the dark side soon enough. [As he did; as Snoke had done to him, hissing patiently from the shadows, always in his head, at his side, until they were one and the same.] I'll train her, hone her into a weapon so deadly the Nest's enemies will learn to fear us.

[They'll reshape it all: a new First Order. A better one.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Kylo draws circles on his back and he relaxes more, starting to feel more of the exhaustion seep in. Damn him and his warmth. Damn him for being in exactly the right place at the right time. Hux breathes out a sigh, just letting himself bend to this. ]

Dark or Light, I don't really care either way. So long as everyone can cooperate and get things done. [ He's asking for a lot. But, he oversaw the end of the Hosnian system, something that felt so far out of reach when it was first proposed. Hux knows if he puts his mind to it, he can achieve it. And with Ren working towards the same goal, well, they could be unstoppable. ]

I know this sounds unreasonable, but can we speak of something else? [ Trying to consider his plans for the future just dredges up Rey's words. How she said he didn't care. Later, he'll turn that against her, but for now they stick and sting. ]

[narcissithstic]

[The Nest will come around. In time, they'll realize how crucial that sort of control is, how necessary ruthlessness and power are when faced with insurmountable odds. Until then, they'll weather the storm; it took years for the First Order to claw its way up from the depths, and while Ren was still training while it happened, Hux— Hux had always been there. Waiting.]

I... [His voice trails off, stalled out, as though the engine's been miraculously cut.] don't know what else to talk about.

[Plotting, planning, all of it comes more easily than any viable discussion.]

[exhuxperation]

[ If there is one thing he's good at, it's waiting for the right moment. His dedication to the First Order had been tested over the years– it all depended on the long term. After all, no one was going to help him up the ladder, not with how conniving the upper ranks of the Order could be. Officers were more than happy to step over each other to get what they wanted.

And somehow he ended up near the top of his own willpower and ambition. The same will happen here within the Nest, though possibly without as much backstabbing. Switching gears to a more idealistic view was going to take some doing, but he prided himself on being a tactician. Match the strategy for the mission.

Though all of that, he wants it to be far away right now. Strategy is what got him into this mess. Eventually, he would work on getting himself out of it. He'd plan and watch and wait and execute. Of this there is no doubt. But he wants to be selfish and hang onto this moment where he isn't grinding through another plot.

Pulling himself off of Kylo's shoulder (with some reluctance), he glances up at him, still leaned in close. Slowly, he slides one hand towards the center of Kylo's chest, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt and tugging so he follows him backwards on the couch. ]

Then we don't have to talk.

[narcissithstic]

[He says that as if the alternative is any easier. In truth, Ren (in spite of how easily he's led forward, practiced patience and leaden steps) is more comfortable with fumbling attempts at the latter, rather than showing his own vulnerability, his imperfections where so few are already tolerated.

But he doesn't have the will to argue, not when they're already connected through the symbiote's rolling waves of lingering irritation and discomfort, claustrophobic enough to be oppressive. How much even he craves distraction from it.

So, for all his slightness, Ren follows Hux's insistent grip, settling down into plush cushions that brace beneath his weight without arguing. Silent. Patient. A stark contrast to the flickering, synaptic train of thought that snaps at the edge of his consciousness.]

[exhuxperation]

[ The alternative is not necessarily easier for either of them. He's so used to hiding and putting walls up. To pushing people away and keeping them there. This newfound fascination with physical touch, with being around Ren and enjoying the places where they connect is odd to him.

But at least in this, they can simply follow what feels best. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the anger and shock from the nest presses against the mental doors. They remain closed, the static muffled while he presses kisses to Ren's neck, underside of his jaw, just to the corner of his mouth. One hand settles on Kylo's shoulder while the other slides along the back of his neck, fingers combing through the longer locks of hair.

He leans back some, looking up into Ren's face, a curious expression hanging there as he continues to smooth fingers through his hair. It's relaxing when it shouldn't be; trapped under Ren's heavier frame and all the heat radiating off of him. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Pressure. Along his spine, against the edges of his fingertips. Would Hux think less of him if he settles stiffly? If he fails to respond with eager affection or casual indifference? Likely not. Not with the humming, breathy reminder of Hux's own trepidation and desire hovering so close across his skin.

They've hated one another, after all. Fought like brothers, both for and against each other over the years. It makes it easier, somehow. Sets the bar lower by default, where so much else would leave him stricken with frigid immobility. Here, at least, he can slacken beneath Hux's fingertips, across the span of his hips and the warmth of his palm. To say nothing for as long as he likes, slipping backwards to perch at the edge of the couch, lifting his chin in a gesture for Hux to move closer instead. Posturing, predictably.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Things are easier between them, he thinks, because they've already seen each other at their respective worst. Sure, things could always become more terrible, but as of right now, there's only room to go up.

Ren is stiff for a moment until he seems to ease into it. His hips are heavy against Hux's and adds to the warmth already pooling there. Of course, it's not to last long. Soon his weight is shifting back, legs spread and with a gesture for Hux to follow. Having gotten comfortable in his spot, Hux lets out a huff before acquiescing. Without hesitation, he slides into Ren's lap, half sitting, half straddling to keep balance. Not wanting to waste the change in angle, he smooths his hands from Ren's shoulders to his chest and below, tracing the faintest outlines of his body under the fabric. He doesn't stop until he lightly palms the front of Ren's pants, adding pressure with the heel of his hand. ]

[narcissithstic]

[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.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Hearing the hitch in Ren's breath makes him feel warmer all over, spurring him on. Normally, he'd take steps to contain himself. To have some sort of control. Letting himself be taken over by pure feeling is a foreign thing. It doesn't help that everything just echoes back through their connection to the Nest.

Ren's grip tightens on his hips, an attempt at grounding, though it leaves him gasping. Those fingertips dig into his skin, sure to leave bruises; they'll sting but remain as a reminder. He tries not to think about how that doesn't bother him, even though it really should. Later, he'll dwell on it. For now, he has Ren rocking slowly into his hand, something he wants to encourage. Hux undoes the front of Ren's trousers, hand slipping in to palm him through his shorts. The more direct contact has him wanting more.

And just like he's always done– he goes after what he wants. Sliding off of Ren's lap, he settles on his knees between his legs, fingers just barely tugging at the waistband of Ren's underwear. Hux glances up, a silent question on his expression. ]

[narcissithstic]

[It's met with a cruel hand, the span of Ren's palm catching Hux firmly beneath the jutting contours of his jaw with all the authority he'd exercised on Starkiller— on the Finalizer, pinning lieutenants for misdemeanors or nothing more than his own displeasure. It feels right, maintaining control; his pulse racing out of satisfaction rather than fear. He turns his thumb upwards, presses back until Hux's chin is tipped painfully towards the ceiling, watching corded muscle strain against itself. One beat, two—

—and then he withdraws in a wordless gesture, a concession just as grudging as any other he's granted in the years they've known one another, wholly dependent on his whims.

Permission granted, General.]

[exhuxperation]

[ The pressure on his throat is unexpected. It sets his pulse racing in a flutter of fear—the inherent fight or flight instinct taking over. Hux has been on the opposite side of Ren's finicky displeasure before, but not quite like this. Ren's palm presses in more, thumb digging into the underside of his jawline and tilting his head back.

At this angle, his breathing is restricted, making the anxious race of his heart combine with the floaty light headedness that comes with a blocked airway. His vision starts to haze at the edges, breath coming in shallow before Ren lets him go. The first inhale of air has him shivering, a thrill running down his spine and sparking in his veins. Hux wants to bask in the strange feeling but Ren has given his permission and he doesn't want to waste that.

His fingers tug Ren's underwear down as much as possible, exposing him more thoroughly. He loosely grips his cock, leaning forward to lick the underside. Ren doesn't seem to be fully hard yet; he plans to change that as he slides the head in his mouth, tongue pressed insistently to it. Slowly, he takes more of him, keeping a hand near the base to steady himself. ]

NSFW WARNING BIG OLD NSFW WARNING, AVERT THINE EYES PAGEVIEW CHILDREN

[narcissithstic]

[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.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Despite the control Ren exerts over his outer expression, Hux can feel his mental state brushing against his own. Where they both normally have given themselves to control, to holding onto the shreds of it as much as possible, this time it's different. Ren keeps his grip on it as strong as possible, fingers curling into the fabric of the couch cushion to ground himself.

And Hux, he lets go.

It's like cutting a wire, emotions and feeling snapping out from the tension that held them in. He's careful to keep it contained enough where it doesn't leak beyond himself and Ren, but it's there. The rush is overwhelming, a mix of the past shames, things withheld and the expectations that kept them there. Boundaries that no longer existed here– he has more control over himself than he ever has.

So where Ren is tension, Hux opposes him (as always, always), humming soft appreciation with Ren still in his mouth. He takes hold of Ren's other hand, guiding it to set at the back of his neck even as he pulls away to breathe. With a soft touch, he traces his fingers from Ren's knee to his upper thigh, palm settling there warmly before he leans back in to continue. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Hux pulls his hand forward to set it against the back of his neck, and for a moment, breathing raw and ragged, he does. Quiet, so tense it feels as though his muscles might snap for how much effort it takes to not slip beneath the surface of Hux's efforts. Ren swallows thickly, his tongue feels dry— his fingers slipping up along the length of Hux's spine to the base of his skull. It feels...

Easy. Too easy. Dangerous and permeating and a dark promise of everything the Jedi feared about themselves.

And for that, his grip goes tight in Hux's hair. A split-second turn from gentle to cruel, demanding. Spurring the general onward where he might otherwise pause and observe what madness he induces.]

[exhuxperation]

[ The weight of Ren's palm feels nice on his neck. While the extra heat should be unwelcome, he embraces it instead, eyes flicking up to take note of Ren's hitched breathing. He isn't giving off as many outward signs, something he wants to coax from him somehow, someway. And of course, once he puts his mind to something, he intends to achieve it. Maybe not in the current moment, but in the future should this happen again (he hopes it does).

Of course, the gentle touch doesn't last long before the grip tightens, the hair at the back of his head being yanked mercilessly. He breathes out a moan around Ren, feeling a fresh wash of arousal spread through his limbs. Slowly yet eagerly, he eases as much of Ren's cock into his mouth as he can before nearly pulling off. It's a repeated action as he sets an odd rhythm, the fingers circling the base dropping lower to brush the backs of them against the sensitive skin there. ]

[narcissithstic]

[narcissithstic]

[It's the moan— throaty and humming— that coaxes a more tangible reaction from Ren: has him seizing up with a clipped noise that's entirely involuntary. Devoid of any semblance of control. His jaw shifts beneath it, working to shove hissing breaths between cinched teeth. His vision feels strained when he blinks, spine arching upwards towards the ceiling, dizzy in a way he's never quite known before— not acutely, anyway.

Because it's different than the adrenaline rush that comes from choking the life from his marks, and different still than the pressure of his own fingers over vulnerable contours, alone and desperate, seeking more than the incessant, cyclical rhythm of his every fear and doubt. Ren's knuckles twist where they grip Hux's hair - painfully so. If Hux was ever searching for a sign that he was on the right path, this certainly seems to fit the figurative bill.]

[exhuxperation]

[ This, this is what he wanted. Ren's control slides away, leaving him shifting and gasping under his ministrations. His hips arch and Hux has to pull away to breathe. It's getting more and more difficult, his own iron clad grip on himself slipping. He can taste salt, can feel it starting to coat the back of his throat and lips.

Sighing, he leans into it again, moving one hand between his own legs to palm himself through his pants. They're uncomfortably tight at this point so he undoes them, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear to carefully add pressure. At the same time, Ren is gripping his hair painfully, forcing him down and he groans into it, eyes fluttering shut. His ears feel like they're ringing and his face feels hot, skin feverish. The muscles in his abdomen are tight, pulse loud and anticipatory.

Maybe it should be embarrassing but neither of them are going to last long at this rate. ]