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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[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. ]