A/N: A better summary for this probably would've been, "Hux and Kylo's first date. Also, more breathplay and mild beard burn."
Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, Kylo/Hux, poorly negotiated kink, discussion of past character death, a brief moment of derealization (with relation to said past death.)
Title from "Pillow Talk" by Zayn Malik, which is a Kylux song, I'm serious. Apologies for my total disregard for chronological order.
It takes roughly four standard hours, filled with intermittent banging sounds and vicious cursing, for Kylo to get the shower to function. She insists on taking the first shower – "You're not the one who got the damn thing to work, Hux," she snaps, bristling like an offended cat – but she doesn't complain when Hux follows her into the little stall and steps under the spray with her. She certainly doesn't complain when he fucks her against the wall, one of her strong legs hooked around him for balance, her nails dragging down his back.
They don't have any towels – at least, none that aren't covered in a few decades' worth of dust and detritus. Hux uses one of the ancient towels to scrub at the mirror over the sink, grimacing when he gets a good look at himself for the first time since – well, since the day he died. His hair is overlong, and the reddish stubble on his face is getting entirely out of hand. "If I don't find a razor soon, I'm going to go mad," he tells Kylo.
Kylo is in a much better mood now that she's clean and well-fucked; this is evidenced by the fact that she merely snickers at him instead of coming up with a retort. She leans against the counter, seemingly for no reason other than to be close to him. "You don't have to pass any inspections now, you know."
"It's irritating," he huffs. He gives her neck a rather pointed look – the skin of her throat is flushed from where his beard has rubbed her skin raw. "Look, you're all pink."
"So are you," Kylo says, eyeing his back. She walks into the main room then, still unabashedly naked and dripping everywhere. "Any razor you find around here is going to be useless after this long."
"You said there's a village nearby," Hux points out. "We'll need clothes, too. I haven't been able to find anything in here that fits properly. And I'd like some food that isn't dehydrated or terrible. Or both."
Kylo rolls her eyes at him. "Anything else, General?" she asks dryly. When he just stares at her, she adds exasperatedly, "We can go to the village later."
Hux frowns at her, then fetches a pair of pants he'd found earlier, while she was working on the plumbing. They're not too filthy, although they are much too short for him. "I'm sorry, did you have plans of some kind?"
"I need to meditate," she says. "Then I'd like a nap. I figured we could work in some more fucking, too."
Hux decides to ignore this, mostly because he is not exactly opposed to such an aimless course of events. "I'm going to that village, whether you come along or not," he says decisively, and goes about getting dressed. Everything he puts on is ill-fitting to the point of ridiculousness, but anything is better than walking about barefoot and wearing First Order med-bay garb.
Kylo makes a show of sighing and flouncing about, but she gets dressed, too. She also rummages up two pillowcases and a worn-out old satchel. "We're making this trip count," she informs Hux bossily, tossing the pillowcases at him. He's not inclined to argue; flying by the seat of his pants isn't his style in the slightest, and he'll feel better having a cache of supplies, even if he still has no idea how long they'll be allowed to stay here before someone hunts them down. It feels laughable that they've lasted long enough to need to worry about fresh clothes or decent food.
"Stop thinking so hard," Kylo says, frowning over at him as she buckles her boots. "You're giving me a headache."
"Get out of my head," Hux suggests, although he's past caring that she can hear everything he's thinking if it strikes her fancy. It's odd, but – he's used to it now.
Kylo doesn't deign to respond, instead heading for the door. Her robe springs to her hand as she walks, a shapeless black mass drifting through the air, and she shrugs it on and pulls her hood up over her wet hair before turning to look at him. "Are you coming or not?"
Hux shakes himself free of whatever has seized him. There's something odd about seeing her in that hood, standing in this innocuous little shack – she looks suddenly out of place. "Lead the way, then."
It doesn't take them long to reach the village, which turns out to be rather less primitive than Hux had expected. The entire atmosphere is quiet, almost sleepy, but there are people roaming the streets, as well as what amounts to a marketplace. Hux notes that the average person here seems to be a good deal shorter than both himself and Kylo, which he finds childishly reassuring. That accounts for the bizarre size of all the clothes left behind in the little house, at least.
"We're creating quite the stir," Hux murmurs to Kylo, as they pass a handful of men who have all stopped in the midst of a conversation to gawk. "Don't you think the hood is a bit much, Lady Ren?"
"They'd stare at us anyway," Kylo says carelessly. "These people haven't seen strangers in a long time."
"In this bustling metropolis? I'm shocked."
Kylo doesn't reply to that, but Hux catches a glimpse of her grin under the cover of the hood, and is strangely gratified by the sight. "This way," she says, sweeping off towards a clothing shop. Hux follows, sidestepping a few utterly unsupervised children as he does so.
"I'm assuming you have a plan," Hux mutters, "as neither of us have any money."
"We don't need money," Kylo says smugly, leading the way into the tiny building. She finds the shopkeeper with ease – it's a little man, a full half a foot shorter than her, with an oddly cheerful expression.
"We can take what we want," Kylo says confidently, before the man gets a chance to say anything.
"You can take what you want," he repeats, smiling innocently.
"You won't remember us later."
"I won't remember you later."
Hux watches this exchange, only mildly curious. "So this is a Jedi mind trick," he says. An archaic phrase, really, but apparently one based in reality. "I thought it would be more impressive."
Kylo frowns at him. She looks offended, as if insulted that Hux isn't fawning over this display of power when he's literally watched holo footage of her torturing people without lifting a finger. "The Jedi haven't cornered the market on mind tricks."
"Right," Hux says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He eyes the dazed shopkeeper warily. "Is he – alright?"
"Fine," Kylo says. "It was a waste of energy, really. He'd have given us whatever we needed anyway."
Hux has a hard time believing that, no matter how feeble the old man is. Kylo gives him a nudge. "Get us some clothes. I'm going to look for food. And a razor, if I feel like it."
Hux opens his mouth to protest, although he's not entirely sure why. He's perfectly capable of stealing some clothes, and even if this old codger snaps out of it, Hux has no doubt that he'd be able to escape with ease. Still, something in him resists the idea of having Kylo out of sight in a crowd of strangers, even a small and seemingly innocent one. If Kylo hears this inane fear, she does him the favor of not acknowledging it. "Get a move on, Hux," she says, before stepping outside and disappearing around a corner.
Hux fills one sack with things for Kylo and the other with things for himself – there's not a whole lot of difference between the two sets, really, except that he nicks a pair of boots for himself. The ones he'd taken from the house are a good deal too small, and his feet are already aching. He's about to leave and look for Kylo when he spots something, glinting in sunlight from the shopfront windows. It's a pendant on a thin silver chain – a small black stone, with shimmering flecks of deep purple within. It looks valuable, but that's not exactly why Hux snatches it and drops it into one of the pillowcases. He's actually not sure why he does it, but he doesn't allow himself to dwell on it; instinct makes him leave the shop behind quickly, even though there's no real risk of him being apprehended for something as immaterial as theft.
He finds Kylo at a vendor's stall, already helping herself to a piece of fruit. "I saw these growing near the house," she says, offering Hux the bitten fruit. "I wasn't sure if they were safe, but they're good."
"I'll pass, thanks," Hux says, although he does allow himself a rather salacious thought about her mouth, her lips sticky and pink with juice. She grins at him and then leads the way from the market, hefting the bulging satchel over her shoulder as she goes.
Hux half expects to see some calamity waiting for them at the house, some ship come to take them away to slaughter, simply because it can't possibly be this simple. He can't really be walking across some fucking prairie with Kylo, on a planet in the middle of nowhere, universally speaking. It doesn't feel real for her to be smiling at him the way she keeps doing, always so fleeting and shy – none of this feels real, suddenly.
"It's all real," Kylo says, snooping as usual. She's squinting at him, and he can't tell if it's on purpose or if she's just unused to this much direct sunlight. Not that Hux has room to talk – he can practically feel himself freckling. "You know it is."
"Days ago I was in a terminal coma," Hux snaps. He sounds defensive, but he can't help it. "A few weeks before that and I was dead. Forgive me if it's taken some time for me to – adjust."
Kylo looks away at the word dead, but her expression grows oddly soft nevertheless. "Come on," she says after a moment's pause. "We're almost there."
There's nobody waiting for them, and Hux supposes now that Kylo would have known about it beforehand anyway. Silence falls between the two of them as they walk into the kitchen, broken only when Kylo starts rifling through what they've stolen. "You didn't have to take only black stuff, you know."
Hux raises an eyebrow at her, lingering by the kitchen table to watch her perusal. "That's rich, coming from you. When is the last time you wore something that wasn't black? Medical gowns don't count."
Kylo shoots him a look, then sticks her hand back into the pillowcase, feeling for something at the bottom. "What's this?"
The stone twinkles in the light when Kylo holds the necklace up by the chain. She frowns first at it, then at Hux. "Why did you take this?"
Hux hesitates, but only for a second before he manages offhandedly, "It looked valuable. I thought we might need it."
It's a lie, and Kylo knows it. Hux knows she'll hear what he's really thinking, which is a strange mixture of it made me think of you and I want you to have nice things and I'm a bloody idiot.
Kylo studies him for a moment. "You took it for me," she surmises, her tone uncommonly neutral. "To wear."
There's clearly no point in pretense, so Hux opts for a different tact. "That's typically the purpose of such a thing, yes," he snaps, busying himself with sorting his clothes from the pile she's made – the tunics are for Kylo, the shirts and sweaters are for him, but he's not actually focused on the task at hand. He's waiting for her to get angry with him. He's overstepped, as ridiculous as the idea seems – yet how could he possibly overstep when Kylo brought him back from the fucking dead, for no other reason than that she wanted him alive? She's made him such a fool.
"It's nice," Kylo muses, startling Hux more than any outburst possibly could have.
"I – yes. It is," he says, eyeing her suspiciously.
Kylo offers the necklace to him, and when he takes it, she turns her back to him but doesn't move away. When he doesn't react, she shifts to look at him over her shoulder. "Put it on me," she commands, in that odd way of hers that indicates following the order is ultimately optional, no matter how bossily it is delivered.
Not long ago – a matter of months, really – Kylo wouldn't have dreamed of turning her back to him, psychic powers or no. Hux feels oddly grateful for this liberty as he sweeps her hair aside and clasps the chain around her throat. There's a long moment where they stand like that, separated by just a few inches, and Hux has just about mustered the nerve to put his arms around her when she says, "Now take off my robe."
Hux swallows. Oh. Alright.
Her robe slips from her shoulders to the floor with a flutter of fabric, and he doesn't need to be instructed to unfasten her tunic next. It's difficult, given that he can't actually see what he's doing now, but if Kylo minds his fumbling with the clasps, she doesn't mention it. Kylo toes off her own boots, and hums quietly when Hux nips at her bare shoulder. "I want your mouth first," she says softly. It really is refreshing when she's direct about things.
"Alright," Hux says, against her skin. The chair closest to them jerks back from the table with a screech of metal grating against tile; Hux starts, just a little bit, and Kylo huffs a laugh, her hands moving to the waistband of her pants.
She sits before him, bare, and gives him an expectant look as she parts her knees. Hux feels hot all over as he kneels in front of her, both from desire and from her scrutiny, but he's done this before, and he knows what Kylo wants from him. She leans down so that he can kiss her, and he slips his fingers between her legs, teasing. When she bites his lower lip insistently, he presses them into her and she leans away with a pleased noise, cheeks already flushing pink.
His mouth on her makes her gasp, her spine arching slightly against the back of the chair, that black pendant slipping askew across her chest. Hux knows Kylo well enough to predict her next reaction – sure enough, her fingers are in his hair barely a second later, grip tightening and releasing every time he does something she particularly enjoys. Every tug spurs him on, makes him oddly desperate. He's so hard it nearly hurts, and the second this thought crosses his mind, Kylo gives a breathless laugh.
"You love this," she says, voice shaking. "You'd do it all day, if only I'd let you."
Hux hums against her, thinks somewhat deliriously, let me, and Kylo comes with a shout, her strong thighs tensing on either side of his head. She could kill him with these thighs alone, and it's exhilarating to be trapped like this, if only for a few seconds.
Kylo relaxes against the chair after a moment, her breathing gradually returning to a normal pace. Hux stays between her spread knees, head resting against her thigh. When his beard scrapes against her skin Kylo tugs his hair gently, whimpering softly, and Hux mentally files this response away for later use.
Kylo lets go of him and nudges his shoulders, murmuring, "Move back."
He does, and when she stands up on unsteady legs, Hux blurts worriedly, "Kylo." It's been quite some time since she's left him unfinished, not for lack of interest on her part but rather to punish him, and Hux still isn't putting anything past her.
Kylo smirks. "Easy, General," she says. "Get in the chair. Pants down."
Hux follows these instructions, albeit somewhat confusedly. When Kylo abruptly straddles his lap, Hux feels it wise to point out, "This isn't a good idea."
"Hush."
"I'm serious," Hux says, when the chair creaks ominously. "This chair was not built with this activity in mind –,"
Kylo's hand is suddenly back in his hair, her grip and her eyes dangerous. "I said be quiet," she says, and Hux barely manages not to shiver.
"If we fall," Hux says challengingly, "don't say I didn't warn you."
Kylo growls at him and sits herself upon him rather than respond, and then Hux finds it alarmingly easy to forget about the chair. He rolls his hips up against her sharply, nearly unbalancing her, and in return she uses her grip on his hair to tug his head back, baring his throat to her.
Hux sucks in a readying breath, waiting for pressure against his throat – but none comes. "Kylo," he grits out, knowing she will hear what he wants.
Kylo hesitates, and Hux can't really get a good look at her face with his head tilted back like this, but he can feel her overthinking this. She's afraid, scared she'll hurt him the way she did once before. Perhaps Hux ought to be afraid, too, but he isn't, not after all she's done for him.
"Do it," he demands, hands squeezing her hips. "I can take it."
Kylo has her other hand braced on the table for balance, but she doesn't need it for this, not really. Hux feels suddenly breathless, an invisible fist tightening around his neck. "Yes," he urges, and Kylo moans and starts moving again, desperate. When she comes again the pressure on his throat falters, and Hux manages a single ragged gasp before he follows, shuddering under her.
It takes a minute for Hux to recover, and Kylo sits farther back in his lap, staring at him, hands fluttering like nervous birds near his chest. "Breathe, Hux."
"Give me a minute," Hux snaps, hoarse, and Kylo frowns.
"Sorry," she says, moving to clamber out of his lap. Hux grabs at her before he has a chance to really think about it, childishly refusing to let her move away, even though she's far too heavy for this to be comfortable.
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Hux says, once his pulse and breathing have dropped to a manageable level. "Nothing at all."
Kylo studies him for a moment, no doubt assessing the truth behind this statement, then nods once. She lets Hux lean in and kiss her briefly, and no longer seems inclined to move. Hux spares one last thought about the continued structural integrity of this chair, then decides to let it go. For the moment.
"I was right," Hux says after a moment.
"Hmm?"
"This does suit you," Hux says smugly, tapping the pendant lightly. He doesn't even care if she's only indulging him by wearing it; it feels strangely important to do things for her, to make her happy. Maybe because he owes her his life, or maybe not.
Kylo rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth quirk upwards slightly. "And I think that this suits you," she says, skimming her calloused fingertips over his jaw.
"Don't be ridiculous," Hux mutters, but he leans into her touch, presses his lips to the hand that dragged him from the clutches of death.
Kylo's expression has got that funny softness to it again; she must be eavesdropping. Of course she is, the ridiculous creature. "Oh, and I'm the dramatic one."