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“Dammit,” the hooded figure says, its steel-toed boot kicking at the, admittedly, shitty circle of ash on the ground. The ash is formed into a complex geometric pattern that resembles a pentagram, something that could be found in an ancient grimoire passed down from generation to generation -- or it was supposed to be, anyway. The whole thing probably would have required protractors and rulers to get perfectly correct, and honestly, who has that kind of time?
Kylo Ren, hooded figure and apparent-summoning-failure, certainly doesn’t. Between his job at the coffee shop and his other job at the practically forgotten, currently very-much dying record store, he just didn’t have the time or the patience for geometry. That was high school stuff, and he wasn’t even good at it back then. But apparently, freshman geometry and shitty grades had been his downfall here. His not-carefully-constructed-summoning-circle had failed miserably.
He tosses his hood back, exposing his face to the cool air of the abandoned warehouse, looks up at the ceiling, and growls. It’s a deep, guttural noise, and would probably be embarrassing if anyone were around to hear him, but they’re not, so he’s fine to sound like a crazed animal right now. He has every right to be frustrated. This whole thing had been a colossal waste of time. And now he is frustrated. And Kylo Ren hates being frustrated.
“Fucking hell,” Kylo says, bending down and picking up a handful of the now-useless ash and letting it fall through his fingertips. He clenches his dirty hand into a fist, fingers burning with the pressure of it. He’d spent hours purifying this ash. And hours before that, burning animal carcasses into the ash itself, picking out bones and bits and wasting his time. Fuck. Fuck.
Something scrapes behind him. A rat or something, probably. The sound seems loud in the quiet of the warehouse, but Kylo has been hearing random noises all night. He knows he’s not the only thing alive in this building, but he is damn well sure he’s the only person. Out of sheer diligence and fear of being interrupted, he’d canvassed the place before he’d started, just to make sure there were no squatters.
He’s too annoyed to turn toward the noise, to give consideration to anything but the rising swell of frustration building in his chest. He wants to scream, wants to destroy the circle, wants to break a window, wants desperately to tear this place apart. He wants the feeling to consume him -- that’s always so easy and it always feels so good.
Self indulgent, he’s been told.
Fuck that. Fuck this.
“Fuck me,” he says-almost-shouts, letting his hands find his own hair and make fists, pull the strands until it hurts.
“Only if you ask nicely,” says a voice behind him.
Kylo whips around toward the voice, hands still in his hair, heart thudding in his chest. He nearly falls in his adrenaline-fueled desperation to turn, but he manages to keep himself upright, and his eyes land on the culprit: a man casually sitting on a nearby crate. He looks...very average, Kylo thinks. Not at all the sort of person who might be skulking around a warehouse at night. He is wearing a suit, has pale and freckled skin, and has hair so brilliantly red Kylo can see it in the dim, flickering candlelight. He is painfully and soul-crushingly handsome.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” the man tells him, in the most posh British accent Kylo has ever heard. It would be incredibly off-putting, if it wasn’t somehow horrendously attractive, the way the man’s mouth twists around the words. “Unless you want to, in which case, by all means continue. It might be a nice show.”
“What are you doing here?” Kylo says, sounding far more dumbstruck than he’d like. “Get out.” He was here first. And now, all he wants to do is wallow in his frustration and anger and annoyance.
“Tsk. That’s not very nice. You invited me, and now you’re kicking me out?”
“I didn’t invite you,” Kylo snaps. He hadn’t told anyone about this place, hadn’t invited anyone. He doesn’t even know this man. The only thing he’d tried to invite was a demon, with all of the shitty circle nonsense, but he hadn’t even managed to get that right, either.
“Didn’t you?” the ginger man asks, now studying his perfectly manicured nails. “I mean, ham-fisted and clumsy as it was. But I know an invitation when I see one.”
“Wha-” Kylo says, intelligently. The man’s eyes flick scornfully to the ruined circle of ash, and Kylo cannot help but look at it, too.
Oh, he thinks. Oh no.
But no, that’d be impossible, like actually impossible Kylo thinks. Besides, demons don’t look like prissy, pressed businessmen with perfect hair. And they don’t speak with British accents. And they’re not handsome.
“You’re pitifully bad at this, you know.”
“I’m not.” The words come out like a pout.
The man stands, pushing himself gracefully from whatever miscellaneous crate he had been sitting on, and then walks over to the circle. He taps at it with the shiny toe of a mirror-polished shoe. Kylo doesn’t know shoes, but they look expensive. It’s really not important. The whole man looks expensive, if he’s being honest.
The man tsks again. “Rubbish,” he says.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Oh, it really is,” the man -- the maybe-can’t-possibly-be-demon -- tells him scornfully. “This is truly garbage. Did you fail basic geometry? A six year old could make a better attempt.”
“Okay, now you’re just being an asshole.”
The man makes an agreeable noise, like he clearly knows that he is being an asshole. It seems like that’s sort of who he is, and it doesn’t seem like he’s about to stop any time soon. “Why did you bring me here?”
“What?”
“You summoned me.” The man puts long spaces between his words, like he is talking to a particularly idiotic small child. His tone of voice implies that, too. “Why did you summon me?”
Kylo looks at the grimoire that he has placed to the side, it’s pages still open to this particular summoning ritual. Okay, he thinks, trying to steady his breathing. I actually summoned a demon, maybe. That’s fine. He’ll just -- deal with it. Or something. Maybe this is all just a cruel but well-played practical joke. “I don’t know.”
The man sighs. He takes a cigarette from his pocket and snaps lazily. A flame hovers in mid air. He lights the cigarette, snaps again, and the flame vanishes. Kylo swallows. Alright. Okay. Maybe this isn’t a very well-played practical joke. Maybe this man is actually a demon.
Truthfully, Kylo -- despite his earlier frustration -- was not actually prepared for this scenario.
Or maybe he was, but he was prepared to deal with a spooky incorporeal being made of wisps of smoke with too many eyes and horns or something. Not -- this. Not a mean redhead with sharp features and piercing, disdainful eyes.
“What do you want ?” The man, the demon asks, taking a drag on his cigarette.
“What do I want?” Kylo parrots, confused. He doesn’t want anything.
The man makes an annoyed noise and puts two fingers to the bridge of his nose like he’s getting a headache. Kylo doubts that demons even get headaches. That seems cosmically -- wrong, or something. “Did I stutter? Why did you summon me, what did you want?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Everyone wants something.”
Kylo picks up the grimoire in his dirty, ashy hands and turns it over. He glances at the pages, thumbing through them just to do something with his fingers. All he wanted to do was see if he could do it, to channel the memory of his grandfather before him. From everything he’s been told, his grandfather was a master at this. He was legendary. Kylo has never been too good at much of anything at all. He just wanted something.
“What’s your name?” Kylo asks, ignoring the question entirely.
“That’s not important.”
Kylo pauses for a moment, considering. “I summoned you. Aren’t you like -- here at my beck and call, or whatever?”
The man huffs. “Could you be any more misinformed?” It’s not a yes...but it’s not a no, either.
“But you’re here for me, because of me, aren’t you?”
“Marginally.” Through gritted teeth.
“Then tell me your name.” Kylo says it with authority, with the hope that this prissy redhead will have to respond to him. It’s a decent hope, too, because as soon as the words come out of Kylo’s mouth, the man looks deeply unsettled. And also annoyed. He looks dangerously annoyed.
“Hux,” the man says, with something like a growl. The word being forced out of him. It is deeply satisfying.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“My name is Hux,” the man, Hux, says, like perhaps the words coming out of his mouth are the most regretful, embarrassing thing he has done so far all month. Maybe they are. Maybe all the other times he’s been summoned have been for some reasonable purpose -- not just for the sheer sake of it.
Hux recovers quickly, throwing his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it with a flourish. “You must want something. Tell me what it is so that we can get this whole charade over with.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Money?” Hux asks, Kylo shakes his head. Sure, he could use some more, but he’s actually quite content with his two jobs.
“Fame?” Hux asks, and Kylo shakes his head again.
“Revenge?” Hux asks him, devious and hopeful glint in his eye. Again, Kylo dismisses the idea.
Hux practically growls. Actually, he does growl -- far better than the noise Kylo made earlier, which Hux actually was probably around to hear, unfortunately -- and he steps into Kylo’s space, suddenly right there and in his face. “What the fuck do you want?” he asks. “Everyone wants something. You dragged me here through that absolute insult of a portal -- just let me give it to you so that I can leave this wretched place.”
Kylo looks at him. Really looks at this man, this annoying and prissy redheaded demon. His suit is nice -- expensive, if it were to be bought in a store and made out of fabric, which it probably isn’t, because Kylo doubts it’s even corporeal or anything. It’s cut perfectly, showing off Hux’s shoulders and his angles and his physique. His tie is perfectly knotted and probably silk, and it looks very soft. Kylo wants to touch it, but he doesn’t. He feels like that would probably be a recipe for disaster, considering that this is a demon he’s speaking to, because that’s his life, apparently.
“Well,” Hux asks, and Kylo stares at his lips. They look very soft. Pink.
Suddenly, he knows exactly what he wants. More than anything.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Hux says, before Kylo can say anything at all. When he looks up from Hux’s lips, he finds the man with a disgusted looking scowl.
“I didn’t --”
“You didn’t need to,” Hux tells him. “You’re a human. It’s not very difficult to figure out what you want. You are hardly subtle creatures, when it comes down to it.”
“If I did, I mean...would that…”
“Use your words --,” Hux pauses, and then immediately asks: “What is your name?”
“Kylo Ren.”
“Use your words, Kylo Ren.”
Well, this is probably the most embarrassing situation he will ever find himself in. “You,” Kylo says, because it’s not like he can lie. Demons can probably tell when you’re lying, right?
“I want you. Is that -- something I can ask for?”
Hux sighs, put upon. “Can’t you come up with something better?”
Suddenly firm in his decision, Kylo shakes his head. “Nope.” If he’s going to be stupid, he might as well stick to it.
“Don’t you have enemies to get rid of, loved ones to resurrect, fame and fortune to seek?”
“Not really, no.” The more Kylo watches Hux, the more he becomes resolute. Hux is a very beautiful man, even if he is a demon. Besides, it isn’t like Kylo has much luck on dates these days. He can be a little -- intense, he’s been told. “Is that, well, I mean --”
“Spit it out,” Hux says. He sounds perpetually bored.
“Do you want that? Is that something you’d want?”
“People don’t ask me what I want.”
Well, that seems a little unfair, Kylo thinks. He says as much, and Hux scoffs.
“But would you want to?” Kylo asks, because he wants the answer to be yes. But he wants the answer to be yes because Hux wants to, not because Kylo wants that -- if that’s how this sort of thing works, anyway.
“Would I want to roll around in a dirty warehouse with someone who can’t even do basic geometry instead of doing my job?” Hux asks, staring directly into Kylo’s eyes, incredulous.
Kylo looks around the warehouse and frowns. “Well, I mean, it doesn’t have to be here …”
“Oh, well in that case,” Hux sounds sarcastic, bitingly so. Kylo opens his mouth to say something to argue for the merits of sex in a dirty and abandoned building being thrilling, or something -- but Hux is grabbing him by the wrist before he can say anything, and then they’re --
-- gone -- everything is dark--
-- and Kylo is standing in the bedroom of his own apartment, dizzy, feeling like his stomach is about to climb out of his mouth. Hux is still holding tight to his wrist, looking around the place with another disdainful look.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Hux says, and then they’re gone again into the darkness --
-- and when Kylo opens his eyes and steadies himself, so dizzy, he finds himself in what looks like a lavish hotel room. Hux lets go of his wrist and stalks over to the armoire, where he begins pouring himself a glass of what is probably very expensive whiskey.
Kylo takes a minute to breathe. He’s still dizzy. Maybe he hit himself on the head and all of this is a dream. Why would he be in a hotel in -- he looks out the window -- New York? He lives in Seattle, oh my god. He must be dreaming.
“Are you going to drink your whiskey, or would you prefer I toss it down the drain and find you something closer to the swill I assume you usually drink?” Hux says, snapping Kylo out of his thoughts. It looks like he has poured Kylo a glass of whiskey as well, and is now holding it impatiently out at him.
Well, if this is a dream, then Kylo might as well enjoy it.
“Um, thanks,” he says, and takes the glass. The whiskey tastes expensive, just like how he assumes Hux would taste expensive. That unbidden thought makes a blush creep over his face.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything else?” Hux asks.
Kylo is so sure. He’s never been more sure. He sets down his grimoire safely next to the bottle of whiskey. “Is it something that you would like?” Kylo asks, because that’s -- well, that’s the whole point of the thing, really. Hux is gorgeous, and Kylo would like nothing more than to watch that prissy face contort in pleasure -- but only if Hux wants that too. Sure, he may be a demon, but nothing is hotter than having someone who wants him.
Hux considers for a moment, eyes raking over Kylo’s form as he slowly sips on his whiskey. His face is peppered with freckles and Kylo wants to kiss them all. “I suppose you could be worse,” Hux says, finally.
It’s not a compliment, but somehow it feels like one, coming from Hux. “Is that a yes?” Kylo asks, hopeful.
Hux rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “Apparently.”
Hux’s hands begin going for his black silk tie, but Kylo’s heart jumps in his chest. “No!” he shouts, before he can stop himself. “No I -- I want to do that.”
When Kylo looks up from where Hux’s deft fingers rest on his tie to his face, the man looks actually surprised. “What?”
“I want to do that,” Kylo says, tipping back the rest of his whiskey and slamming the glass down next to the bottle. “Undress you, I mean. Please let me do that?”
Hux still looks genuinely surprised, but the emotion falls off of his features after only a moment. “If you must,” he says. Kylo would think that he sounds hopeful, if he didn’t sound so bored. Maybe it’s all a ruse -- at least he can hope it is, some weird defense mechanism. Or maybe Hux is just an asshole. The latter is definitely true -- Kylo’s not sure about the former.
Now that Kylo has been given express permission to undress Hux, he’s not really sure how to go about it. The hotel room is so quiet and Hux is just staring at him. It’s probably the least romantic setting Kylo has ever considered having sex in, other than random fantasies at work. Then again, fantasizing about someone blowing him under the counter of the coffee shop is somehow hotter than having a demon boredly allow you to undress them.
“Um,” Kylo says, and Hux just sighs. The demons rolls his eyes, snaps, and music begins playing from an expensive sound system in the corner. It’s classical. Of course it is. The curtains draw themselves half-closed, enveloping the room in a nice reddish-orange light. It’s -- well, it’s definitely better.
“Picky,” Hux says, and Kylo catches him in a kiss.
It’s -- well, it’s actually quite a nice kiss, really, even though Kylo hadn’t really been expecting himself to do it. Judging by Hux’s reaction, he hadn’t expected it either. Kylo wants to ask him why he considered sex with no kissing, but he doesn’t -- instead, he just licks into Hux’s mouth until the man seems disarmed and looser than he was before.
Kylo wraps a hand around the back of Hux’s neck and kisses him harder, letting his fingers card a bit through Hux’s soft hair. Hux, to his credit, both lets him, and also moans.
Eventually, Kylo pulls back to get some air -- and also to look at Hux, whose eyes are dark and whose lips are red from the kiss. He looks disheveled -- and suddenly Kylo can’t wait to ruin him just a bit more.
His hands go for Hux’s tie, and he is rewarded to feel that it does feel expensive and that it is quite soft underneath his fingertips. He unties it gently, carefully, if only because Hux tsks at him when he tugs it wrong. Once the tie is off, Kylo tosses it unceremoniously to a nearby chair. The jacket is next, which he peels off of Hux slowly, crowding close to his personal space to kiss the skin of Hux’s neck as he peels it back.
“Get on with it,” Hux says, when Kylo tosses the jacket to the chair.
“Impatient?” Kylo asks, because Hux actually looks it -- but in a good way, with hungry eyes and kiss-bitten lips. He looks involved, which is far more than he looked only ten minutes ago.
“Bored,” Hux corrects. “I do actually have a schedule to keep, you know.”
Kylo just shrugs and begins on the buttons of Hux’s shirt. Every time he pops open a button and exposes new and pale skin to the air, Kylo lavishes kisses there. He peppers the freckle-dotted skin with kisses and love bites, watching with ardor as Hux’s pale skin so easily gives up into red marks and bruises. Eventually, though, Hux’s shirt is off completely and he’s standing in front of Kylo, breathing quickly with an expression Kylo can’t read.
“Lie down,” Kylo tells Hux.
“Finally, we can get on with this,” Hux says, though he can’t seem to muster the annoyance he so easily found earlier. He sounds breathier -- more real. Kylo tries not to feel too prideful because of that.
Hux spreads himself out on the bed and stares up at Kylo looking expectant. “What are you waiting for? Get on with taking me, or whatever approximation of that you’re planning on.”
So, Kylo does. He tugs off Hux’s pants and his underwear, and for a moment just looks at him, sprawled out on the bed like a prize, like something he’s won. And to be fair, he did work hard for this. Well, he worked hard, sort of, to summon a demon in the first place. Sure, he hadn’t done it because he wanted anything, he’d done it just to see if he could, but it at least feels like something he’s tried hard for. And he’s going to keep on trying.
“Get on with it,” Hux says, and so Kylo does.
He leaves his own clothes on for now, because Hux is like a gourmet meal all spread out on the bed for him, and Kylo is salivating at the mere sight of him. He is gorgeous -- almost too beautiful to touch. And right now, he is all Kylo’s.
When Kylo crawls on top of Hux and catches him in a kiss, Hux still looks surprised, but he goes with it nonetheless. He seems to like kissing -- maybe demons don’t do much of that. Kylo eventually moves from Hux’s lips, to his neck -- which gets him loud, to his nipples -- which get him even louder. Kylo teases the small buds of sensitive nerves between his teeth until Hux is practically crying, moaning, and writhing beneath him. Eventually he tears himself away, kissing down Hux’s perfect ribcage, down to his hips, and then to the V of muscle at his groin.
Hux is rock hard and leaking before Kylo’s face. He cannot help but take a moment to just admire the state he has Hux in.
Kylo breathes over him for a moment, breath hot and teasing, until Hux’s hands find his hair and push Kylo’s head down, closer to his cock. Impatient. Kylo huffs out a laugh, licks a stripe over Hux’s length, which pulls a low and breathy moan from the man -- and then Kylo flips him. It’s an easy task, given that Hux seemed completely unprepared for it. Kylo’s hands are still wide and splayed on Hux’s hips, holding him down against the soft sheets of the bed.
Hux makes an annoyed noise. “And here I thought you were going to be polite,” he says. He sounds -- maybe a little disappointed.
Kylo just laughs.
“Get on with it, then.”
Kylo kisses back down Hux’s spine and then moves his hands to the meat of Hux’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart to get a good look at him. He’s perfect, really. Hux’s body is the most decadent thing Kylo has ever seen -- like it was built just for him, in heaven or hell or wherever Hux came from. Hux groans when Kylo’s fingers knead into the flesh of him, pulling his cheeks apart, spreading them wide.
Kylo lets a drop of spit fall from his mouth to land perfectly in the center of Hux’s puckered asshole, and he watches as Hux squirms.
It takes a moment for Kylo to move himself, to get into a good position behind Hux, but soon he finds a good position as he he edges himself between Hux’s legs. He bends down, no preamble, to lick a wet stripe over Hux’s hole. God, it’s so good.
Hux startles the second Kylo’s tongue laves over him, shuddering and groaning, and pushing himself up to his elbows. “What the --”
Kylo sinks his teeth into the fleshy bit of Hux’s ass, licking the saliva from his lips. “Were you expecting something different?”
“Honestly, I was just expecting you to shove it in me,” Hux says, like the surprise of it has loosened his tongue. He quickly follows his words up with, “I was hoping to get this over and done with.” But Kylo doesn’t hear the sincerity Hux probably wishes he had. Instead, he hears a lie. Hux is enjoying himself, and he’s surprised about it. That realization hits Kylo like a wave, fueling the heat in his gut.
“You were just hoping I’d take you for what, my pleasure?” Kylo says, idly pushing at Hux’s hole with his thumb until it slides in, slowly stretching him out. Kylo leans down to lick around his thumb with a wet tongue, and Hux groans, low and needy.
“It was the most likely scenario, yes.”
Kylo laughs, pulling his thumb out to push it back in again, just playing with Hux, just to watch him squirm underneath Kylo’s attentions. “Have you seen yourself?”
Hux makes a noise.
“No, seriously though, have you seen yourself?” Kylo asks. He slides his thumb out and kisses Hux’s hole for a moment, sliding his tongue in as far as he can go, fucking Hux with the wet muscle. When he pulls back, he pushes one finger inside, then two. “Why would I not want to play with you? You’re gorgeous. You’re even more gorgeous when you’re -- like this.” Kylo twists his fingers until Hux is moaning and panting underneath him, until he’s pressed right against Hux’s prostate. “Why would I just fuck you when I could do this for hours, instead?”
He imagines it, playing with Hux for hours, keeping him in this expensive hotel room, lavishing attention on him until he is a mess.
“You wouldn’t,” Hux pants. Groans. Gasps against the sheets.
“I could,” Kylo says, and slides another finger into him, just aided by more of his own spit.
Hux makes another noise, low and needy, and so Kylo takes out his fingers and goes back to kissing Hux’s hole. He knows that it’s not quite the same feeling as being filled with fingers, but Hux doesn’t seem to mind too much at the loss when Kylo fucks him with his tongue for long minutes, occasionally sliding a digit along with.
He licks into Hux for a long time, until Hux is wordless and groaning, until his muscles are loose and ready. He fucks Hux with his fingers and his tongue until Hux is begging nonsense, until the demon is practically crying underneath him for more, more, more.
Still, Kylo does not relent. He doesn’t have anything pressing today, and this whole experience is like a drug. He’s never had someone so pliable and desperate and beautiful beneath him, he’s never had someone beg him like this before. Hux is full of mouth and bite and need, and yet he is still at Kylo’s command.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Kylo asks. “Tell me.”
“Yes, fuck me,” Hux manages between groans. His hips are rocking against the sheets, his ass arching into the air to try and get Kylo’s fingers in deeper. He’s got four in Hux now, and he feels like he could probably fit his fist, if he really worked at it. “Feels -- so good,” Hux says. “More, fucking -- give me more.”
“Bossy,” Kylo says, because Hux is. He is bossy and needy, and it’s just about the hottest thing Kylo has ever seen. “Enjoying the carnal pleasures of life?” he asks, twisting his fingers inside Hux again, just so.
Hux shudders and groans -- it’s answer enough.
“Fuck me -- you useless piece of -- ah, fuck --” Hux says, devolving into groans. Kylo bends down to lick him again, against the tightly stretched muscle around his fingers. He lavishes attention there until Hux is once again incapable of words, fingers twisted inside him so that his prostate receives neverending attention. Kylo knows it’s like torture, but from the sounds Hux is making, he’s enjoying every moment of it.
He keeps going until Hux is rutting up against the bed like an animal, desperate and needy, until he’s grinding back on Kylo’s fingers until he’s knuckle deep and groaning.
Hux shouts when he comes, a broken and brutal sound. Like it’s been ages since anyone has taken him apart like this. Maybe it has been. His whole body shakes and shivers, and every muscle of him relaxes into the soft mattress beneath him.
While Hux is coming down from his orgasm, Kylo slowly extricates his fingers, taking the time to tease a few extra shivers and moans from Hux.
“You monster,” Hux says, after Kylo plays with the rim of his hole, dragging his thumb along the relaxed and sensitive muscle. The insult makes Kylo smile. It’s -- almost fond, he thinks.
While Hux steadies his breathing, Kylo helps by replacing his fingers with his mouth once again, kissing Hux’s hole with an open mouth. Lazy and messy. It does absolutely nothing to help Hux center himself, of course. Kylo’s ministrations start dragging curses out of Hux the moment he can truly catch his breath. But Kylo can’t help but abuse that sensitive muscle, can’t help but wring even more noises out of Hux. His motions go from lazy to heated in a matter of minutes, as he works Hux up again into a frenzy. It’s amazing to watch, Hux wringing himself out like this, writhing against those expensive sheets and twisting under Kylo’s attentions. It’s better than any gift that Kylo could have asked for.
Eventually, Hux is panting breathily again, back arching in the most beautiful way possible.
“Are you going to come again?” Kylo asks, sliding a finger inside Hux’s wet hole. He is so loose and stretched out and slick with Kylo’s spit, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever felt.
“Fuck you,” Hux tells him. So, Kylo flips him onto his back. He’s ready for Hux to put up some sort of argument, but he is moved so easily. He’s so pliant. Despite all his protests, Hux does a very poor job of actually sounding sincere. He is eating up the attention and the pleasure -- Kylo wonders just how hungry Kylo can make him.
“No,” Kylo says. “I’m going to fuck you.”
“Then, get on with it,” Hux pleads.
“Nah.” Kylo slips two fingers inside and massages his prostate until Hux’s cock is dripping for him. Positively leaking. He whimpers and pleads every time Kylo brushes against him with his fingertips. He almost screams when Kylo takes his cock into his mouth and sucks relentlessly, only pausing to roll his tongue over the head of Hux’s cock to catch the spunk leaking from him.
It’s not until Hux comes again, back arching and body shaking under Kylo’s attention, that Kylo even considers giving him a break.
“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” Kylo asks, head pillowed on Hux’s pale thigh while his thumb teases Hux’s soft cock.
Hux makes a noise, which he then follows up with actual words when Kylo gently pinches the meat of his thigh. “No. No, they haven’t.”
“They should. You’re gorgeous like this.”
Hux laughs. “I feel like you’re trying to kill me.” He’s far less bratty like this, Kylo thinks. Almost pleasant. Affectionate. All of the bite has left him, even though he still lazily tries to swat Kylo’s hand away from his cock every time Kylo traces over his too-sensitive head.
“Can you even die?” Kylo asks.
“Probably,” Hux says. “My death is likely imminent if you keep this up.”
“Mm,” Kylo says before twisting and taking Hux into his mouth again.
It takes him nearly half an hour to pull another orgasm out of Hux, but he manages it out of sheer determination. There’s not much come for Kylo to swallow, but it’s enough to keep his appetite whetted for more.
There are actual tears in Hux’s eyes when Kylo finishes cleaning him off, after he’s done peppering Hux’s pale thighs with kisses and licking up the sweat that is covering his hip bones. He works his way up Hux’s body, worshiping him in a way that will probably land Kylo in hell himself. Kylo kisses him and Hux kisses back, lazy and slow and messy.
Kylo loses himself in it, ignoring his own hard and painful erection, until Hux presses a small bottle into the palm of his hand.
“Destroy me,” Hux asks him.
And who is Kylo to deny him that?
He spends a few minutes sliding lube-slick fingers into Hux, truly working him open again, even though he doesn’t need it. Hux is loose and willing, and so fucked-out it’s practically impossible. At this point, Kylo could probably slide his whole fist in with little effort, but he still likes the sounds that Hux makes when Kylo fingers him open, so he does it anyway.
Kylo slicks Hux up until he is dripping lube onto those expensive sheets, until his cock has a bead of precome glistening the tip. He works him open until Hux is dragging nails down Kylo’s back and pleading once more.
It’s easy to push Hux’s legs apart and line himself up. Slowly, Kylo lets himself push inside, savoring the experience completely. The loose muscle of Hux’s ass yields to him so easily, like he was made just for this.
Hux is pliant and willing beneath him, arching his back and pressing back until Kylo is seated fully inside him. Kylo takes a moment to relish the feeling, catching Hux in a long kiss. Eventually, Hux pulls back with a growl, with practically bared teeth. “What are you waiting for? Stop playing around and fuck me,” he orders. And Hux has given so much of himself that Kylo simply cannot refuse.
Without preamble, Kylo fucks into Hux, hard. Brutally.
It’s amazing. Beautiful. It’s truly the best experience Kylo has ever had in bed. Sure, it’s partially due to the way Hux feels around him -- but mostly, Kylo thinks as he looks down and admires the man underneath him, it’s the way Hux looks . It’s the way he responds. He’s enjoying himself thoroughly, back arched and hips canted, bucking at the air to try and drive Kylo deeper into him with every thrust. He’s twisting on the sheets, fingers torn between grabbing at the sheets and at Kylo’s thighs. His face is screwed up in pleasure. He is -- well, he’s a work of art, Kylo thinks.
Kylo is so lucky.
Hux has devolved into a symphony of moans at this point. If Kylo thought he’d been loud before, he doesn’t even know what to call Hux now -- he just knows he’s sorry for the neighbors. Who cares, though, they’re probably just jealous.
He slows for a moment, just to appreciate the slick drag of his cock against Hux’s loose muscle. He is so wet from the lube, dripping on the bed in a mess of his own spunk and sweat and Kylo’s spit. He looks debauched -- face red and body wrung out and used.
Kylo wraps slick fingers around Hux’s half-hard cock once again and tugs him, works him until he’s hard again and groaning. Hux curses him out, tells him he couldn’t possibly, but Kylo keeps jerking him off anyway. Fucking him all the while.
Kylo fucks him until he can feel the creeping itch of pleasure behind his gut, desperate for release. “Common, Hux,” he tells his partner. “Common, baby. I want you to come for me.”
Hux chokes out something that is likely about him not being Kylo’s baby , but Kylo ignores it. Instead, he just fucks him deeper, jerks him harder. He adds a little twist of his hand at every pull, refusing to ignore the sensitive head of Hux’s cock. He’s not dripping anymore, probably wrung dry, but each time Kylo does it, Hux cries out from the sensation.
It’s only a matter of time before Hux is coiled tight once more. His muscles are taut, his fingers are clenched in the sheets below him, tearing holes with the force of his grip. He is beautiful, gorgeous, dangerous -- he is completely and once again at Kylo’s mercy.
Kylo doesn’t make him wait too long.
He wrings him out, bringing Hux to once again another orgasm with a furious twist to his hand a brutal thrust of his cock. When Hux comes, he shouts and the windows shake. Kylo can feel Hux shuddering around his cock, shaking and clenching. It’s hot, so hot -- Kylo just can’t get enough of it. Perhaps he should stop, with the way Hux is riding what looks to be almost painful aftershocks, but he can’t. Not now. Not knowing he wants Hux to be a complete mess at the end of this. He wants to give Hux the best night ever -- something he’s not soon inclined to forget.
He fucks Hux through the lingering remains of his orgasm, hitting against his prostate with every thrust. Hux is so wet and slick and tight -- it’s better than anything Kylo has ever felt before. He’s practically crying by the time Kylo can feel his own orgasm cresting. Finally, he lets go of Hux’s cock, grabs his hips, and drives into him until his own pleasure is spiking, until his vision whites out into nothing. The feeling of it courses over his entire body, electric, until he finds himself coming back to awareness, panting in Hux’s neck.
When Kylo catches his breath again, he kisses Hux lazily, pinning him to the bed. Hux kisses back like he’s half asleep, like Kylo has taken every last ounce of energy from him. It’s truly rewarding, even if it is a messier kiss than Kylo is used to.
He’s honestly surprised when he pulls back and Hux levels him with a look. It’s a tired look, but it’s a look nonetheless. “You think you’re so special,” Hux says, in something like a snarl.
It’s a little surprising Hux can still string together words -- but Kylo supposes he’s not exactly human. “Maybe,” Kylo says, and presses a kiss right over Hux’s jugular. He feels the familiar beat of a heart against his lips and thinks that maybe they’re not so different after all. “Common, Hux. Tell me someone’s worshiped you like that before.”
“They haven’t.”
“I know they haven’t,” Kylo says, feeling quite proud of himself. He should feel proud: after all, he’s the one who has wrung Hux dry.
“Don’t look so proud. That’s a sin, you know.”
But Kylo is proud. He’s damn proud. He composed Hux like a symphony, sculpted him into a work of art. But -- something’s missing, he thinks. It’d be so easy to laze in the afterglow, Kylo thinks, as he pulls his softening cock out of Hux. The man shivers as he does so, over-sensitive and over-wrought. But no -- he was still talking earlier, still snippy and bratty as he had been in the beginning.
Kylo wonders if he can’t fuck that out of him too, like he did with the rest of Hux’s energy. His spark is so alluring, so compelling -- Kylo can’t help but dream of dimming it, just for a bit. He knows it’ll come back full force, once Hux has rested a bit.
He could do a bit more damage.
“Look at you,” Kylo says before kissing Hux again, before pulling back to admire his work. Hux is sweaty and used up, and he’s just so perfect. “You are a mess,” Kylo says. “A total wreck.”
“Admiring your handiwork?” Hux asks, voice tired but somewhat fond.
Kylo shakes his head. “Trying to figure out what else I could do to you.”
Hux tenses. His eyes narrow to down to slits. Kylo thinks they might be a little red. He can’t tell -- everything about Hux is red and raw right now. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’re still talking,” Kylo says. “It means I haven’t done my job properly.”
Hux curses, though the sound quickly devolves into a whine when Kylo takes his cock in hand once again. He is gentle and kind, but Hux is sensitive and practically raw. He makes sure his hand is dripping with lube, just so that the slide is easy and pleasurable for Hux. It takes some time to work Hux until his cock is hard again, but Kylo has the time and he certainly has the patience. Once Hux is firm in his hand, Kylo just watches his reactions with every stroke. He catalogues every twitch, every moan, every time Hux’s body stiffens with a particular stroke. And when Kylo has the pattern down, he slides two fingers into Hux to work him from the inside, too.
At this point, Kylo knows how to play Hux. He knows how to work him over, how to get him panting again. It’s harder now, but he still manages it until Hux’s is taut again with the need to come, pleading and crying with sheer overstimulation. It must hurt, Kylo thinks -- but it must also be glorious, too.
Hux comes with a pitiful whimper, body shaking and orgasm dry.
Kylo feels another swell of pride as he watches Hux collapse to the bed, no control over his muscles at all. It’s gratifying, hearing Hux whine slightly until Kylo covers him with a blanket. It’s beautiful, watching Hux fold into him when Kylo wraps his arms around him and draws a damp washcloth over his face, over his torso. When Hux stops shaking, stops shivering, Kylo wipes him down completely with another damp towel. He gives him a drink of water, though he doubts demons particularly need it, and he gives Hux some candy he found in the mini-bar (partially because he wanted some himself).
It takes nearly an hour for Hux to rise back into something resembling consciousness and chide Kylo for both taking all of the blankets, and also for being too warm.
And then, again, for still having his clothes on.
“Fuck,” Kylo thinks. His clothes are probably ruined -- but then again, likely so is his soul after this, and there’s not much he can do to fix that, either. He strips them off anyway, crawls under the sheets with Hux, and falls asleep for a while.
“Get up, you gigantic oaf,” is what finally wakes him. It takes Kylo a second to realize that the snippy, bratty voice is coming from Hux. And Hux is hitting him, too, slapping at his shoulders and his back because -- Kylo has draped himself over Hux in his sleep. He rolls easily to the side with a laugh, and carries Hux to the shower before he can truly protest that he has better things to do.
Kylo rewards him by blowing him under the luxuriant spray of water, and Hux comes again with Kylo’s name on his lips.
“You’re an asshole,” Kylo says as he watches Hux dress again. Meticulous and perfect. He’s really very handsome. Kylo thinks he might be a bit enamored with a demon, maybe.
“You’re the asshole. You couldn’t just have a simple request, could you? Ugh, I feel like I could sleep for a week .” Hux slides the knot up his tie and fixes it to his liking in the mirror. “It’s not like I have a job to do or anything, no. Just satisfy the whims of some sex-hungry human, like I’m nothing more than meat.”
“You deserve a good time,” Kylo says, knowing full well Hux expected to be taken and used, and not pampered and cherished. He’d even seemed pleasantly surprised when he’d realized the hand he’d been dealt. Not that he’d acknowledge that now -- but at least Kylo knows.
“Mm.”
“No, seriously,” Kylo says, feeling perhaps a bit emboldened by the good time had. “We could do it again.”
Hux looks at him like he’s grown two heads.
“We could,” Kylo presses on. Hux sighs and grips him around the wrist, and suddenly they are back at Kylo’s shitty apartment. Hux hands him his grimoire, which he probably would have forgotten had it been up to him.
“Like I’d choose to spend any time with you, if I could.”
“You had a good time,” Kylo argues. “You just won’t admit it, that’s fine. But -- wouldn’t you rather spend a night like that, than, what, getting revenge on someone’s cheating ex, or something? And not getting thanked for it?”
Hux considers for a moment. He looks around Kylo’s room, then looks Kylo up and down.
“I suppose it wasn’t the worst night I’ve had,” Hux says. “Fine. As long as you promise to never summon me again. That was an abysmal experience and I simply won’t do it again. Just call me on my fucking phone, like everyone else.”
Kylo is left with a matte black business card and so much pride he knows he’s going straight to hell.
