[ It's sharp when he barks out: ] I'm not toying with you.
[ It's sharp, yes, but it's also a bit of a giveaway - Ben loses some of the steeliness that he has been cultivating, and that expression comes to the fore, so much so that for a moment he looks utterly wretched; eyes narrow and angry, a dangerous tremor running through him. Then, it's the jedi's turn to look away, to break that eye-contact that he, himself, had asked for (not asked, per se - but has he ever really asked for anything? Not particularly; all of his question marks bear a curl of command).
Repeated, stupidly, glumly: ] I'm not toying with you, Hux.
[ So what is he doing? Trying to find some kind of link that still exists between them, potentially. Trying to salvage that partially existent link, also, potentially. Is it working? Seems not to be - which is likely Ben's own fault, seeing as he has been more than just heavy handed with this situation. He's not a tender man, he never has been - he's not given to affection, or reassurance, or caring, or anything like that - not around his own immediate family, not around his ex-lover. But, there had been moments, between the uproar and the fray that had been their co-existence. There had been the odd night where he would sleep, unwittingly, with his head in the general's lap (like a loyal dog, it was an insult; but he had been asleep - surely that excused it), he sought him out when ill, sometimes - when injured, more frequently. The other's quarters became a port of safe harbor, unfortunately for them both. Or more: unfortunately for Hux. The lovers of Skywalkers; they're all cursed, unlucky in their own ways. All seemed to meet sticky ends; all meeting death in violent ways and broken-hearted.
He can't summon the fortitude to exercise that under-utilized tenderness now; eleven months hang in the air between them - a gradual unraveling of what had once been so tightly coiled around them both; and he feels the space that separates them on the bunk acutely. The thing to do here would be to reach out a hand - but the Jedi does not, instead he settles for turning towards Hux again, wearing a frown that belongs to Ben Solo more than it ever did to Kylo Ren. ] You know why I'm speaking with you.
[ It's a difficult thing, swallowing one's pride.
He shifts closer, invades the general's space, hand on elbow, the leg braced on the floor bracketing the other's knees. ] Look at me.
[ There's no keeping that commanding tone out of his voice. At least it's said in something like good faith. He will be entitled until the last, though. ]
[ It felt like being toyed with to Hux, as if he'd been caught by some large predator who wanted nothing more than to bat him from paw to paw before killing him. What was it Ren was even expecting to happen by being this way? For things to be how they had once been almost a year ago? Forgiveness? Things just didn't work that way even if Ren wanted them to. That being said, the glum way Ren repeats himself digs in, Hux trying to stave off the pang in his chest as he resists the urge to believe what the other is saying.
He can't afford to believe it. Going back a year things had been fine because they had been working. Hux's room had become a place where they both could let their guard down and not have to even think implications. Between the sex and the closeness afterwards, Hux knows that they had both gotten comfortable with each other and that was a part of the problem he now faced. Being comfortable with this stranger, this person who looked liked Ren, would only end in problems for both himself and the First Order. Who was to say it wasn't even a trick that Ren was pulling to make it easier on extracting information?
Hux knows that it isn't true, deep down at least. If Ren wanted information he could take it, could use the force and dig it from his mind. The fact he hasn't already is interesting in a small way, though Hux feels the touch at his elbow and pulls himself out of his thoughts, suddenly noticing just how close Ren has moved. The command in Ren's voice is familiar enough that Hux can't help but yearn for it, missing even the days when the sith apprentice had given him nothing but grief on board the Finalizer to no end. This time when he peers back at Ren his expression is completely open, confusion and hurt plain as day in his eyes. He hated feeling exposed like this, despised the idea that Ren could have such a hold on him still yet there wasn't anything he could do about it no matter how hard he tried to. Now it just feels like yesterday when he realized Ren wasn't coming back, some wounds still too fresh regardless of how long ago they were inflicted. Let Ren peer at him all he wanted, once the other was out of the cell Hux knows he can begin to lick his wounds and plan for what lay ahead.]
[ The newly minted scoundrel visibly recoils when their eyes meet, his crooked face crooking further into a look that's some midpoint between Kylo Ren and Ben Solo - it's the thing that he had dreaded; the look of humanity that would inevitably cross Hux's features during their meeting - he had thought that he had seen each and every expression that this man was capable of wearing; the looks of cruelty, of disdain, of pride (and those other, more private ones that they had shared; lust, pleasure, the look that came over him as he slept, the curious frowning that dreams brought). But, this particular arrangement of the general's features is like a shock of ice-water.
Instead of remaining where he is, or leaving the room entirely, Ben surges forwards, lips drawn away from his teeth in a snarl, hand locking around Hux's neck (but, damn it all, gently, carefully). He holds their faces inches from each other, hair falling forward into his eyes, hands spasming with the will to either clutch closer or squeeze to death - he does neither, and instead holds the general there, prevents him from moving away, thumbs worrying at the skin beneath his jawline.
There's a ragged breath from Ben, and he moves as if to speak, breath huffing out against the other man's cheek, and it takes a few more before he does so, in a whisper that seems to wrench itself from his throat: ] I want you- [ He spits it out like a curse, that. And again: ] I want you.
[ It's not even sexual; it's a confession - perhaps one that he has only ever uttered out of lust, but now it rings like a condemnation (the Skywalkers and their doomed loves - isn't that a story for the future generations, a real tale). He glances up at Hux miserably, fingers threading through the thin hairs at the nape of his neck (they're pale gold there, he remembers, teeth bared further).
He ought to keep his mouth shut now, to leave and never speak to or of Hux again. ] Now, still.
[ Ben swallows convulsively and glances off to the side, snarling. ]
[ Hux sees how Ren recoils from him in that instant, feels a small sense of satisfaction at just how the message seemed to be getting through to the other finally. Ren had defected to the Resistance and at least knew what he was doing. Hux on the other hand had to spend his time wondering, not knowing for months on end what had happened to Kylo Ren. Ren could sugar coat it all he wanted to himself; at the end of it all the whole debacle was a complete shitstorm, one that Hux knows will take more than just a discussion to get over.
He's not expecting the hands at his neck though, freezing in place as he feels Ren's thumbs running across his skin. It only takes a split second to become comfortable with the action, to find solace in how close the other is right now and Hux finds himself caught between a sharp struggle of longing and hatred. He'd missed this, and the fact that Ren could just make him feel such a way so quickly made him despise the man (and himself).
Hux closes his eyes, not wanting to see dark, blazing eyes for the moment as he tries to come back from this. He's failing at doing just that, can feel the surge of emotions behind the wall he's put up threatening to take it down from the foundations upwards. This should be the point where he tells Ren to fuck off and leave him alone, to make sure that the other never came back.
He just doesn't have it in him though. The warmth of Ren's hands are enough to keep the general in place mentally and physically and when he opens his eyes the hurt is still there, albeit nowhere near what it had been before. If Ren wanted to do this right now then Hux was more than willing to comply, would let new Resistance member see just how he felt on the matter.]
I missed you. And every day that you didn't come back... [ Hux gestures uselessly with one hand, unable to actually articulate his words for once. His throat feels suspiciously tight and it's nothing to do with the hands at them.] We weren't good enough for you in the end.
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[ It's sharp, yes, but it's also a bit of a giveaway - Ben loses some of the steeliness that he has been cultivating, and that expression comes to the fore, so much so that for a moment he looks utterly wretched; eyes narrow and angry, a dangerous tremor running through him. Then, it's the jedi's turn to look away, to break that eye-contact that he, himself, had asked for (not asked, per se - but has he ever really asked for anything? Not particularly; all of his question marks bear a curl of command).
Repeated, stupidly, glumly: ] I'm not toying with you, Hux.
[ So what is he doing? Trying to find some kind of link that still exists between them, potentially. Trying to salvage that partially existent link, also, potentially. Is it working? Seems not to be - which is likely Ben's own fault, seeing as he has been more than just heavy handed with this situation. He's not a tender man, he never has been - he's not given to affection, or reassurance, or caring, or anything like that - not around his own immediate family, not around his ex-lover. But, there had been moments, between the uproar and the fray that had been their co-existence. There had been the odd night where he would sleep, unwittingly, with his head in the general's lap (like a loyal dog, it was an insult; but he had been asleep - surely that excused it), he sought him out when ill, sometimes - when injured, more frequently. The other's quarters became a port of safe harbor, unfortunately for them both. Or more: unfortunately for Hux. The lovers of Skywalkers; they're all cursed, unlucky in their own ways. All seemed to meet sticky ends; all meeting death in violent ways and broken-hearted.
He can't summon the fortitude to exercise that under-utilized tenderness now; eleven months hang in the air between them - a gradual unraveling of what had once been so tightly coiled around them both; and he feels the space that separates them on the bunk acutely. The thing to do here would be to reach out a hand - but the Jedi does not, instead he settles for turning towards Hux again, wearing a frown that belongs to Ben Solo more than it ever did to Kylo Ren. ] You know why I'm speaking with you.
[ It's a difficult thing, swallowing one's pride.
He shifts closer, invades the general's space, hand on elbow, the leg braced on the floor bracketing the other's knees. ] Look at me.
[ There's no keeping that commanding tone out of his voice. At least it's said in something like good faith. He will be entitled until the last, though. ]
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He can't afford to believe it. Going back a year things had been fine because they had been working. Hux's room had become a place where they both could let their guard down and not have to even think implications. Between the sex and the closeness afterwards, Hux knows that they had both gotten comfortable with each other and that was a part of the problem he now faced. Being comfortable with this stranger, this person who looked liked Ren, would only end in problems for both himself and the First Order. Who was to say it wasn't even a trick that Ren was pulling to make it easier on extracting information?
Hux knows that it isn't true, deep down at least. If Ren wanted information he could take it, could use the force and dig it from his mind. The fact he hasn't already is interesting in a small way, though Hux feels the touch at his elbow and pulls himself out of his thoughts, suddenly noticing just how close Ren has moved. The command in Ren's voice is familiar enough that Hux can't help but yearn for it, missing even the days when the sith apprentice had given him nothing but grief on board the Finalizer to no end. This time when he peers back at Ren his expression is completely open, confusion and hurt plain as day in his eyes. He hated feeling exposed like this, despised the idea that Ren could have such a hold on him still yet there wasn't anything he could do about it no matter how hard he tried to. Now it just feels like yesterday when he realized Ren wasn't coming back, some wounds still too fresh regardless of how long ago they were inflicted. Let Ren peer at him all he wanted, once the other was out of the cell Hux knows he can begin to lick his wounds and plan for what lay ahead.]
Well?
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Instead of remaining where he is, or leaving the room entirely, Ben surges forwards, lips drawn away from his teeth in a snarl, hand locking around Hux's neck (but, damn it all, gently, carefully). He holds their faces inches from each other, hair falling forward into his eyes, hands spasming with the will to either clutch closer or squeeze to death - he does neither, and instead holds the general there, prevents him from moving away, thumbs worrying at the skin beneath his jawline.
There's a ragged breath from Ben, and he moves as if to speak, breath huffing out against the other man's cheek, and it takes a few more before he does so, in a whisper that seems to wrench itself from his throat: ] I want you- [ He spits it out like a curse, that. And again: ] I want you.
[ It's not even sexual; it's a confession - perhaps one that he has only ever uttered out of lust, but now it rings like a condemnation (the Skywalkers and their doomed loves - isn't that a story for the future generations, a real tale). He glances up at Hux miserably, fingers threading through the thin hairs at the nape of his neck (they're pale gold there, he remembers, teeth bared further).
He ought to keep his mouth shut now, to leave and never speak to or of Hux again. ] Now, still.
[ Ben swallows convulsively and glances off to the side, snarling. ]
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He's not expecting the hands at his neck though, freezing in place as he feels Ren's thumbs running across his skin. It only takes a split second to become comfortable with the action, to find solace in how close the other is right now and Hux finds himself caught between a sharp struggle of longing and hatred. He'd missed this, and the fact that Ren could just make him feel such a way so quickly made him despise the man (and himself).
Hux closes his eyes, not wanting to see dark, blazing eyes for the moment as he tries to come back from this. He's failing at doing just that, can feel the surge of emotions behind the wall he's put up threatening to take it down from the foundations upwards. This should be the point where he tells Ren to fuck off and leave him alone, to make sure that the other never came back.
He just doesn't have it in him though. The warmth of Ren's hands are enough to keep the general in place mentally and physically and when he opens his eyes the hurt is still there, albeit nowhere near what it had been before. If Ren wanted to do this right now then Hux was more than willing to comply, would let new Resistance member see just how he felt on the matter.]
I missed you. And every day that you didn't come back... [ Hux gestures uselessly with one hand, unable to actually articulate his words for once. His throat feels suspiciously tight and it's nothing to do with the hands at them.] We weren't good enough for you in the end.