Chapter Text
General Hux scowled at the requisition orders in his hand and sighed, sour at the prospect of having to re-route the supply carriers yet again.
There wasn’t protocol for this.
There was never any protocol when it came to Kylo Ren. The man had stalked into the board room like he owned the ship, announced that they needed to take an immediate three-day detour to a planet Hux had never heard of, and stalked back out again, leaving broken supply chains in his wake and the General with a logistical headache.
Why? No good asking him why.
I have seen it.
The Force showed me.
It’s destiny.
Mystic rubbish.
But Hux had long since learned not to rail against the absurdity of it all. He indulged Ren on Snoke’s express order, and their Supreme Leader apparently saw no problem in having two subordinates with wildly different mandates sharing command of the same vessel.
Although Hux knew that Ren’s presence on the fleet’s flagship reflected Hux’s own status as one of the highest-ranking members of the First Order, it also struck him as wildly unfair that no other General had to deal with the sheer bloody inconvenience of Kylo Ren.
Ren wasn’t an officer – frankly, Hux didn’t know what he was, other than that he fell beyond the ambit of Hux’s authority. No matter how hard Hux and his team of elite officers worked, there was Ren skulking above it all, running off on whims of his own and generally doing everything in his power to endanger the tenuous ceasefire that existed between himself and the General.
The problem, steamed Hux, staring at the carefully detailed plans that Ren had scuttled, was that he was a spoiled child – spoiled, selfish, and weak.
Oh, he didn’t doubt Ren’s Force abilities – he’d felt those invisible fingers tighten around his throat more than once – but to see that terrifying power wielded by a sloppy, undisciplined apprentice was like fingernails on the chalkboard of Hux’s precise military soul.
What a waste.
Not for the first time, Hux thought to himself that Ren ought to have someone to answer to – or at least someone to give him a proper hiding. Someone other than Snoke, at least, who was decidedly uninterested in the daily minutiae of running a star destroyer. Presumably Snoke had known what he was doing when he fitted the Finalizer with two commanders; Hux didn’t presume to pry into the Supreme Leader’s intentions. But it was obvious to Hux that two leaders couldn’t take the ship in one direction, and some days it seemed like it was only a matter of time before one of them pushed the other too far.
Or perhaps Snoke just liked the sounds of his subordinates growling at each other.
Hux sighed, and activated his comm. “Dekko, alert navigation. There’s been a change of plans.”
“Yes sir,” replied the Lieutenant. “When you’re ready, sir.”
She responded fluidly, without any hint of curiosity. The Finalizer’s officers knew better by now than to ask why Hux was changing plans that had taken weeks to prepare.
Hux gave her the new coordinates, then slapped his communication pad on the table and stared out the window to the planet beyond. This close, he could see the whorls of weather systems in its atmosphere. Storms were brewing and dying, playing out their lives in front of him in shades of white and silver.
Their best-laid plans, ruined on a whim of Snoke’s arrogant apprentice.
In the silence of the empty board room, he allowed himself the indulgence of swearing out loud.
Kylo Ren needed to be taught a lesson.
~~~
On the other hand, Hux had exactly no time to waste thinking about the errant knight and his moods. Commanding the First Order’s invasion forces meant that most of Hux’s days were spent untangling one administrative snarl after another. This system couldn’t meet its materials export quotas, that government was fostering insurrectionists – the list never ended. Waging a war against the Resistance came with an incredible backlog of necessary paperwork, even for a General.
Ren might enjoy the privileges of rank without responsibilities, but Hux had shit to do, and on a good day his work kept them out of each other’s sight. When Hux was lucky, they could go for weeks without running into each other.
Frankly, he was happiest when he didn’t know where Ren was.
But Ren had a special talent for showing up at precisely the wrong moment – which was why Hux’s anger, usually so carefully banked and controlled, was at the boiling point as he stormed into hangar bay E-42. He’d received a communication, delivered by a carefully expressionless Lieutenant Landis, that Kylo Ren had authorized a dozen of his key marksmen for active duty.
Hux had prevented himself from swearing on the bridge, but it was a near thing.
Sure enough, when he marched into the hangar bay, Ren was there, ostensibly overseeing the launch prep.
He didn’t turn at Hux’s approach, though the General’s march across the hangar floor sent the prep team scurrying out of his path.
“What are you doing?” demanded Hux, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Ren didn’t bother to turn to face him as he replied. “I have a lead. I’m pursuing it.”
In a back corner of his brain, Hux wondered how many ulcers he’d developed since becoming General, and how many of them had been caused directly by Kylo Ren. “The hell you are.” Ren couldn’t commandeer Hux’s pilots at will; they were waging a war, on a schedule, and the Finalizer’s troops were a finite resource.
“Supreme Leader – ” Ren began.
“Our Supreme Leader has ordered the Finalizer to support the troops on Ventra,” Hux interrupted, moving directly into Ren’s field of vision, “and I need all available pilots for that. I won’t have you put the entire fleet on hold for the sake of your feelings!”
Hux realized too late that his voice had risen to a shout. The troops in the hangar bay had paused in their work to look back at the pair of them, startled. They jerked back into motion when Hux glared at them.
“Supreme Leader Snoke places a high degree of faith in my feelings,” Ren replied slowly. There was a touch of challenge in his mechanically modulated voice, daring Hux to go any further.
Hux stared into that bloody mask, blank and impenetrable and just a few frustrating inches higher than his own eyeline.
They couldn’t do this here – he couldn’t risk reaming Ren out in front of the troops. Neither one of them was officially under the other’s command, and if they sunk their teeth into each other in public one of them was going to lose face – and Hux wasn’t so sure that it wouldn’t be him. He didn’t mind the idea of embarrassing Snoke’s golden child, but he wasn’t willing to be Force-choked in front of his own stormtroopers.
And it was made worse – so much worse – by knowing that Ren was utterly indifferent to all these considerations. That black mask just floated there, confident of getting its own way, happy to wait out Hux’s cold anger, as he always did. Just like he ignored everything that stood between him and what he wanted.
Hux jerked his chin towards the exit. “Not in front of them. This way. Now.”
He turned on his heel and made his way to a side door, which lead to a small break-out room. He didn’t pause to see if Ren obeyed; he could hear the bullish clomp of the man’s boots as he followed, almost lazily.
The door closed behind them sharply, and Hux turned to face Ren. He was dark against the backdrop of stars, broad shoulders a little hunched, as though he had never in his life considered standing at attention.
For some reason, that thought irritated Hux more than anything.
“I don’t know what you think you’re – ”
“Your pilots will accompany me to the surface,” Ren interrupted. “I’ll return them to your command when I’ve found who I’m looking for.” A pause, then – “I know you don’t like other people playing with your toys.”
If Hux had been thinking about the consequences, truly thinking, he might not have said it – but the months of Kylo Ren’s insubordination and temper tantrums had taken their toll.
“If you didn’t have that mask on I would slap you.”
Hux wasn’t sure what Ren’s reaction would be, but there was only a moment’s pause before Ren reached up – slowly enough to be insolent – to the back of his head and pried the mask off.
It had been a long time since Hux had seen that face – he’d almost entirely forgotten what Kylo Ren looked like. It was like looking at a stranger. Pale, odd-looking, long-featured.
“You’re welcome to it,” the man in front of him said in a bored tone, tilting his head lazily to stretch his neck.
The blow came fast and hard, open-handed; the solid crack of Hux’s leather glove on Ren’s cheekbone rang in their ears.
It was hard to say who was more surprised.
Ren didn’t seem to know how to react at first; his dark eyes widened, and his narrow jaw clenched tighter. That pale face looked too pale, almost garish, against the black backdrop of stars, incandescent with sudden fury.
He hadn’t expected Hux to do it.
Hux felt better than he had in weeks.
“You know I could kill you right now,” growled Ren, fingers clenching around his helmet.
Hux had only a second to prepare himself before he felt a roaring in his ears and a blistering pain at the front of his skull – rage, Ren’s rage, in seething waves. It cut so deep so quickly that for a moment Hux was afraid he was going to collapse. There was nothing in his head but Ren’s fury, nothing to brace himself against, nothing between him and the rising fire – and then it was gone as quickly as it had risen, a warning, leaving only a ringing hollowness in his ears and a weakness in his bones. It took every fibre of his being to keep his body from shaking with relief, but Hux managed it.
And then he nearly grinned.
Ren was mad.
“Then it seems I’m at the mercy of your self-control, Lord Ren,” Hux breathed, stepping in close enough to crowd. This close, he could see the beginnings of a pale blush on Ren’s cheekbone. Ren was powerful enough to kill him – Hux knew this. He also knew that Ren daren’t. Even now, shocked and embarrassed, his anger wasn’t quite strong enough to take him that far.
Snoke had two servants, after all.
“Now,” Hux began in a voice barely above a whisper, “You can take my pilots, this time. I’ll alert the fleet to the change in plans – again. And if Snoke asks why his flagship isn’t at Ventra in time to support the ground assault, it will be entirely on your head. But this is the last time you make a move like this without my authorization.”
Hux didn’t wait for a reply before he turned and swept out of the room, leaving Ren standing in front of the viewscreen, helmet clenched awkwardly in his hands.
On the bridge again, relishing the adrenaline that was still humming in his veins, he allowed Landis to clear the ships for launch. Near-death experiences had always had a clarifying effect on Hux.
This is going to make things more complicated.
It was true – but since the thing was done, he let himself enjoy it.
That night he went to sleep with his usual headache and new the image of Ren’s face before his eyes – pale, shocked, jaw ground down in a flash of anger that he couldn’t suppress, a warm hint of rosiness where he’d been struck.
~~~
As it happened, Ren had Hux’s pilots out and back with barely a ripple in the fleet’s timetable, and he returned with a Resistance agent aboard, broken and bleeding and primed for interrogation.
Ren had always been good at interrogation, Hux begrudgingly admitted as he scanned the post-mortem. He knew next to nothing about the Force, and he had no desire to know – the twisted, slavering relationship between Kylo Ren and his master didn’t make it seem at all appealing – but he respected that Ren got results.
Days came and went, and it seemed that Ren was taking pains to stay out of Hux’s way, or at least not to actively interfere with his duties. Hux was viciously glad – he had enough troubles to sort through without Ren underfoot.
And yet.
His anger at Ren’s behaviour, his resentment at being saddled with him in the first place … those feelings hadn’t disappeared, but they were tempered, for the first time, by a sense that something could possibly shift between them. It didn’t take a Force-sensitive to foresee that something would have to give sooner or later.
He wasn’t a self-indulgent man, but sometimes he allowed his thoughts to wander back to that slap – how good it had felt, how good Ren’s reaction had felt.
He hadn’t expected Ren to be taken aback.
He hadn’t expected Ren not to lash right back at him.
And if Ren was purposely avoiding him, that made this even more delicious.
He supposed he could summon Ren and push the issue, stick his fingers into the bruise – but that was absurd. He didn’t actually desire his presence – and for what purpose? He had no desire to have Ren skulking in his quarters, petulant and insolent. No, until Ren got his courage back and began destroying equipment again, Hux would enjoy this temporary peace.
In fact, he was almost considering celebrating the one-month anniversary since he’d last dipped into the “wear and tear (Kylo Ren)” account when he received an alert from Lieutenant Dekko as he was standing on the bridge.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” he snapped, when she seemed to pause.
She handed him her pad wordlessly.
This time, Hux did swear.
~~~
Hux hadn’t been sure that his clearance code would let him access Ren’s chambers – certainly he’d never tried before – but he punched in the override and the door opened without complaint.
“Ren! Where are you?” He barged his way through the empty antechamber and into Ren’s living quarters.
Ren looked up abruptly from the other side of the station where he was working, staring into a cross-section of a planetary hologram. It took him a moment to compose his features at Hux’s intrusion, and Hux didn’t miss the glance he shot at his mask, propped up on a stand a few feet away, clearly regretting the fact that he wasn’t wearing it.
Hux wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Ren’s rooms – perhaps gaudiness, or disorder – but the chambers were sparse to the point of asceticism. Sitting alone at the desk, bathed in the blue glow of the hologram, Ren looked slightly unmoored, the only living thing in an otherwise empty space.
“You spoiled child,” Hux spat, crossing the length of the room in angry strides. In his left hand he carried the data readouts, and he slapped them onto the table.
“I was, rather,” Ren replied, in a tone that didn’t quite make it all the way to indifference. He waved his hand as he stood and the hologram disappeared, leaving only a weak line of wall lighting for illumination. It made his dark eyes look black. “General. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Hux was in no mood for games. “You know damn well what.”
Ren glanced casually at the readouts sitting between them on the table.
“I know you don’t think the welfare of my ship concerns you, but when you divert power – ”
“It was necessary,” Ren murmured, reaching out to nudge the top sheet of paper with an ungloved finger. Then he met Hux’s eyes, and had the audacity to shrug. “It’s only temporary.”
“Do not interrupt me.”
Hux’s voice was firm. Ren’s pupils widened, just a little.
Ren’s eyes tracked him as he moved around the table and deliberately stepped into Ren’s physical space. He’d been carrying the read-outs in his left hand; in his right, he was carrying a slender black crop – ornamental, standard Order issue – and he chose that moment to place it on the table with a crisp snap.
Ren squared his broad shoulders and set his jaw, but it wasn’t quite enough to erase the suddenly uncertainty in his face.
Perhaps Ren realized that he’d gone too far this time.
Good.
“Do you enjoy watching me clean up your messes?” Hux asked, the pitch of his voice falling well below the danger line.
“It’s a pleasant side effect. Don’t mistake me, General, I – ”
“Strip.”
Ren’s face froze mid-sentence. Hux’s face was a mask, and it gave nothing away, but Ren was not so lucky. That ridiculous headgear had ruined his ability to control his face, if indeed he’d ever had it – that bottom lip was too expressive. The smallest twitch spoke volumes. And unless Hux was deeply mistaken, that was the tense jawline of a man who suddenly wasn’t sure what he had got himself into.
After a second or two, the line of his mouth curled, as though he was certain Hux couldn’t be serious.
“Really, General?” he asked in a mocking tone.
Amateur – Hux was above a fumbling manoeuver like that.
Ren’s smile stalled as Hux began to loosen his jacket buttons, ignoring Ren’s reluctance completely. With quick, efficient motions, Hux shucked his coat and cast it aside on the back of the chair, quickly followed by his uniform jacket.
“Are you deaf, Ren? Take off your robe.”
“What are you doing?” Ren asked with narrowed eyes, as Hux began to unbutton his shirt to reveal the plain white undershirt he wore beneath. The cold air of the room was bracing on his naked arms.
“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself,” he said, voice low and even as he folded his shirt. “Take off your robe or I’ll take it off for you.”
It was a gamble, and Hux could see it play out on Ren’s face. Ren was physically the superior of the two, by any measure. Hux may have been a General, but he was slighter and shorter than Ren, unarmed and completely devoid of whatever psychic powers Ren had at his disposal. Ren had flaunted his authority so many times before, and gotten away with it. There was just no physical reason for Ren to obey him now, to do anything he didn’t want to.
Except –
There, that nervous smile, trying its best to look predatory.
Once again, without warning, Hux felt that terrible screaming heat at the front of his skull, the battering pressure against his mind that hit like a carrier whenever Ren chose to lash out with his Force powers. It was like standing too close to a viewport when a ship passed by a star: a heavy, relentless, indifferent blast of power.
And there, for the first time, Hux could feel a sliver of conscious thought, resting against his brain like the sharp edge of a scalpel, no pressure, just a warning. Ren had never done this to him before. Hux had seen him take over other men’s minds, but had never known what it felt like. He was aware suddenly – because Ren wanted him to become aware – of how little effort it took for Ren to press him there, and how much more strength he had at his command, to use if he chose.
What is this, General? – the words were faint, hardly more than the slenderest impression, but they sliced through his mind effortlessly.
Hux repressed a shiver, and tamped down the nausea rising in his gut.
“Ren, if you don’t stand up straight when I’m speaking to you, you’ll regret it.”
The pressure dispersed like mist.
“You have a strong mind, General.”
He felt Ren retreat from the outer rim of his mind with a tinge of mocking deference – he was leaving because he could, not because Hux made him, he seemed to say.
Hux also sensed that that was Ren’s last gambit.
Poor Ren – he had the Force, and he had brute strength, and that was all.
Ren had lacked the wisdom to prevent them from colliding like this – and he lacked the courage to go any farther. And now it was Hux’s turn.
There they were – two men standing too close to each other in the cold light of Ren’s room, breathing a little too deeply after that last thrust of Force power.
“Alright, General – I’ll bite,” he said with a low, curving smile – a smile that said he was interested in whatever game Hux was playing, but he certainly wasn’t obeying because he had to.
Hux didn’t believe it for a second. Hux knew better, could feel it. He’d gambled correctly.
“Be silent, Lord Ren.”
With a cautious quirk of his brow, Ren unbuckled his cinch. He wasn’t wearing any armour, just that ragged robe, which he discarded to reveal simple, plain black garments underneath.
“Shirt too,” Hux ordered, when it looked like Ren was about to stop.
He pulled it off over his head in a single move, long white arms bared in the half-light.
Hux reached out and picked up the switch. Ren’s pupils dilated as Hux tested its spryness between his hands.
There they stood, Hux in his undershirt and jodhpurs, and Ren stripped to the waist, totally unable now to keep the wariness off his face.
“You didn’t have to,” Hux reminded him, digging into that uncertainty and pulling it to the surface. “But you did.”
Hux knew Ren trained physically as well as spiritually, but he hadn’t considered what that would mean for the body now standing in front of him, shoulders curved inwards with resentment. Even with the poor posture and the sulky lip, Ren was a specimen. And while Hux hadn’t thought about it until this moment, in this moment, the frisson of lust he felt run down through his stomach seemed like only the natural continuation of everything that had come before.
Bringing Ren to heel could be enjoyable in more than one way.
But that was incidental.
“Turn around and grab the desk with both hands,” Hux ordered, business-like, as he adjusted his own stance. Ren paused just long enough to prove that he wasn’t jumping to orders, then turned, placing his long white fingers on the desk. There was nothing for him to grip. The angle was such that his head bowed, just a little, heavy locks falling down on either side to bare the nape of his neck. Even in the low light, Hux could see scars along his body. Training scars, battle scars, etched into his tenderest places – the side of the abdomen, under the arms, anywhere a weapon would strike to kill. Most were shallow and pale, but there were parallel lines that were fresher, marks from his previous discipline regimen. Whatever his training had been, it wasn’t all meditation.
“What do I have to do to make you obey me?” Hux said aloud, half to himself as he ran the tips of his fingers over that skin, enjoying the feeling of the spine beneath the muscle and flesh.
It had been quite some time since Hux had felt another person’s skin against his own.
“You aren’t my master,” said Ren. “I don’t obey you.”
“Hmm. Let’s work on that.”
The first smack came before Ren had prepared for it – Hux had been goaded by that tongue – but Ren rocked into it expertly. The crop sang against his skin and the muscles in his back clenched deliciously.
The second one was sweeter, as Hux adjusted the grip. Ren’s back arched.
“No,” Hux breathed, touching Ren’s shoulder as the man shifted to steel himself for a third blow. “Don’t move a muscle. You don’t get to make this easier on yourself.” He wasn’t about to allow Ren to rock with Hux’s momentum to lessen the sting or the weight of the blow. “Stand. Completely. Still.”
Ren raised his head and grinned, face reflected in the heavy black gloss of the bulkhead. There was a touch of colour on his brow. “You’re a perfectionist.”
“Correct.” Hux struck him again, letting his arm extend fully with the lead-in. Ren gasped at the impact, but didn’t move this time. Perfect.
Hux let himself fall into an easy pattern, not concerning himself with counting, but paying attention to the lines of Ren’s body – stiff and unyielding, resisting the momentum of the strikes, as he’d been ordered to do.
Corporal punishment was routine for soldiers, and even junior officers – Hux bore the marks of his own education at the Academy. Apparently it was nothing new to Ren, either – but it was new between them.
“You need discipline, Ren,” Hux said quietly, his voice unaffected by his own exertions. “Of all the people on this ship, you’re the only one who doesn’t know his place.”
“You mean under you?” Ren gasped, unable to keep from shivering under the next blow. His breath was coming a little quicker now. “Do you think this is going to make me – ah! – obey you?”
“I’d settle for a lack of outright insubordination. But right now, if you can’t say ‘yes, sir,’ then I don’t want you to say anything at all,” Hux whispered, and Ren twitched his shoulders, but fell silent. The only noises that passed between now them were the sound the crop made as it hissed through the air, the sound of it on Ren’s flesh, the quick breaths Ren sucked through his teeth.
Sweat had gathered along Ren’s neck and back, and his arms were shaking with the effort of bracing himself against the low desk. There was sweat on Hux’s brow, a pure reaction to his physical exertion, and he enjoyed it – it had been too long since he’d felt his body like this, powerful, primed. He relished the sharpness of the air in his lungs as the effort of striking Ren began to tell.
Ren’s hands were flat on the table, twitching for something to grasp, sliding a little with sweat.
“To answer your question, I don’t think this is going to make you obey me,” Hux murmured, his voice a low counterpoint to the sharp snap of leather of skin. Ren’s back and sides were streaked with red now – it was a beautiful sight, watching his body adjust to the pain. He should have made him take his pants off so that he could access the entire canvas of his back.
Next time.
“I’m not that foolish. You’ve shown me time and again that you can’t see past your own nose, that you’re too stupid and bloody single-minded to cooperate. You’re a waste of good material, Ren.”
“Then why – ” a hitch in his breath, a desperate gulp – “are you doing this?”
“It’s good for you.”
And I like it.
And you’re taking it beautifully.
“You think I haven’t been beaten before?”
“I know you have. But anyone with common sense would have stopped inviting it.”
“You think this is power?” Ren was trying for intimidating but it came out as a whimper, and oh, that was a gratifying sound.
“I know real power. I command legions.” A tad theatrical, but it was true. “This is just discipline.”
Hux lowered his arm, relishing the burn of muscles in his shoulder. Ren was shaking, but his arms hadn’t given out. He hissed as Hux leaned in and let his fingers brush over Ren’s brutalized skin. Hot to the touch. In the half-light, the redness was subdued, but Hux could feel the rising welts. He’d broken the skin along his right flank, and there was a little blood mixed in with the sheen of sheet.
“But I don’t harbour any illusions that this will make you more obedient.”
“Seems we’re at an impasse,” Ren choked out, muscles twitching under Hux’s soft fingers.
“This isn’t an ultimatum, Lord Ren,” Hux murmured, watching the body in front of him strain with the effort of keeping itself propped up. “I know how well you do with ultimatums.”
He let the strap clatter onto the table. “You can let go now.”
With a groan he couldn’t contain, Ren slid forward on his arms, dropping his chest to the desk. He was panting, his shoulder blades protruding against his skin, long legs spread.
It was an extremely satisfying sight.
Hux took stock of himself – panting and a little flushed, but under control. Aroused, but that too was under control. Happier than he could remember being in many months – even if this had been dangerous and self-indulgent.
He reached out for his shirt, laid neatly on the back of the chair, and slipped it on once more, buttoning it up to his collar with crisp efficiency.
“Did you enjoy that?” Ren asked, voice muffled by his arms. He hadn’t moved from the desk, still panting, clearly trying to rally.
Hux didn’t give him the opportunity. He stepped in close to the space between Ren’s legs and pushed forward, pressing Ren’s sweaty body back onto the desk. He was still trembling. Ren hissed as the buttons of Hux’s shirt scraped against his stinging skin.
And then Hux pushed harder.
At the unmistakeable feeling of Hux’s erection against his backside, Ren froze. It was the most visceral reaction Hux had elicited from him all night.
“Yes,” Hux said simply, before pulling back. “I did. You can stand now, if you think you can make it.”
Ren rose abruptly, with more energy than Hux had expected; Hux took an awkward step back, rather because he was forced to than because he chose to.
The expression on Ren’s face was murderous. From the look of surprise and anger on Ren’s flushed face, Hux could tell that this hadn’t been on Ren’s radar. He could pretend that he didn’t mind being beaten, but this – this he minded. This scared him.
Good.
Hux didn’t let Ren’s glower phase him. His eyes locked onto Ren’s and he stepped back into the man’s physical space. Expecting to feel the grasp of Force fingers on his throat any second, he dropped his hands to Ren’s waistband. Ren’s eyes widened. He seemed suddenly unsure where to put his hands. Hux didn’t wait for Ren to decide; he undid the fastenings and reached inside to cup his cock with an ungentle hand.
Ren hissed through his teeth at the contact, but it was surprise and nothing more.
Warm, soft. Unaffected. Hux gave him a squeeze anyways. Ren stuttered, words dying on his lips.
Hux sneered. “You might be Snoke’s pet, Ren, but this is my ship.”
“Our ship,” Ren corrected icily.
“Can you even?” Hux asked, enjoying Ren’s real discomfort – finally.
“I can,” he responded, quickly, peevishly – and oh, yes, Hux had cut him quick him there. Ren realized too late that he’d risen to a childish challenge he’d have done better to ignore, and bristled as he realized it. “But don’t think a few slaps from you are what’s going to do it.”
Why had Ren let him, then, if he hadn’t enjoyed his own debasement?
“Alright,” said Hux, quietly, smiling a smile that was entirely for himself. “Alright. You’ve shown me you don’t care about obeying orders, or being beaten, or this” – he punctuated his statement with a squeeze to Ren’s groin before withdrawing his hand – “so we are, as you say, at an impasse.”
He stepped back, locking eyes with Ren. The man was red-faced from his recent punishment, barrel chest rolling with deep breaths, with an expression that was equal parts confused and furious.
Hux smiled. He’d lost track of his own bearings too, but at least he had the presence of mind not to show it. He pulled on his coat while Ren glared at him.
“Pass me that,” he said, reaching his hand out for the crop.
Ren glowered, but after a sullen moment, he picked up the crop and handed it back to Hux with an arm that trembled.
“Make sure you have a medical droid put antiseptic on your back,” Hux ordered, turning to leave. “I don’t want you out of commission for too long.”
“General.”
Hux stopped and turned at the doorway, looking back at Ren, who was leaning back against his desk, arms crossed.
“What, Lord Ren?”
Ren was silent for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth turned up, just a little. “It does feel better to lash out, doesn’t it?”
Hux didn’t deign to respond. He swept out of Ren’s quarters without another word, blinking fiercely as he entered the brightly lit corridor. He felt a little shiver of relief when the door slammed shut behind him. In the back of his mind, he hadn’t been sure that Ren wouldn’t strike him through the Force, rank be damned. He’d been afraid, just a little. It had felt good. And as he walked back down the corridor, spine straight and pace crisp, he couldn’t help but feel that perhaps one of them had pushed the other a little further than was wise.