part two, hux's point of view here. it drags on a little in the bigging. there are more hints of kylux, but it stays very pg and shipping light. only a lil gay. still gay tho.
Hux POV: 1455 words. Themes of Eugenics, Natural Selection.
+++
The Resistance ship is warmer than the Finalizer had ever been. Which is surprising, the Finalizer had many, many more bodies, though admittedly there was a often a lot of space between those bodies. It was a big ship. Even if the stormtroopers slept all piled onto one another in hammocks, the ship was too large compared to the amount of soldiers abiding within its pristine walls.
So, of course, there are differences in the Resistance base. For one, it it warm, the life support systems set at a higher degree temperature obviously. A waste of power, but it established the care they had for comfort. They even switched the direction of the bindings of his arms ever so often, so he wouldn’t accidentally dislocate his own shoulder. They cared about the comfort even of their own prisoner. It seemed...stupid. That was it. Stupid. The Resistance was soft, the Rebels were soft, everything before them. They were all too kind, too soft, and that’s why they couldn’t keep power. They mixed with aliens, breeding blood with the soft and asking for things. Too gentle, it would work in temporary, but of course, always in temporary. That’s why the Rebels, Resistance, and the Light would always fail, and the dark would always overtake them. Kindness only works in temporary.
He tries to tell Leia of this, over the past few days. They’ve started to communicate on more familiar terms, as long as he’s talking about Kylo Ren, and not any other portion of his fleet.
He will admit. He worries about that specific Knight of Ren. On that ship alone. The most that he could hope is that the man managed to kill himself in some quick and fast way, and his wounds weren’t festering and leading him to a slow and painful death without Hux there to fix them.
Leia doesn’t believe him. She doesn’t believe that her son would hurt himself like that, that the Dark had seduced him to the point of self-flagellation. She, rather thinks that he’s lying, trying to buy time for his troops to rescue him.
It’s a stupid idea. He has no hope of rescue. He only wishes not to wither away in the dirty, vile base and die without making any semblance of a difference. Making her angry, and possibly leading the force-sensitive cow into anger would be far more a worthy death to him.
They’ve finally left him uncuffed, let him fix his own wounds. He suspects that his leg won’t ever heal right, from the place it’s broken, the knee won’t ever bend right again. The only feeling he has in it is pain, and he find making it move at all as drastically painful.
He had known it was a matter of weeks before they found Kylo, or his body. He’d had his tracking device on him when he was captured. The only thing worth more to him than a map to Luke Skywalker, a map directly to Kylo Ren.
Ren was vital to the process of obliterating the Resistance and gaining complete control of the galaxy. At least, that was what Snoke told him. Kylo Ren was...erratic. He was soft, the biggest product of Resistance breeding. He attempted to escape his softness through meditation and the dark, but he couldn’t wipe it from himself.
His face was soft. The curve of his chin. Hux had...observed it before. How soft the man looked. Not just young, they were virtually the same age, but he somehow looked too foolish, too innocent. A product of the Resistance. But that softness was enticing, it made Hux wish to attempt to keep it there, to keep the slashes in his skin from scarring and becoming harsh gashes in the slim lines of his body. He liked his crunches curves, and feeling the hardness of his musculature below the softness of his skin.
It was a horrible thing to think about while he repaired Kylo’s wounds. There was no reason why Hux should lust after the man, even if they could procreate together, it would be a horrible mixing of pair. Hux’s children would never be born of the Resistance.
He’s lost in those thoughts, hours upon hours spent in that cell with only the sound of blood in his own ears. It’s hard for him to tell exactly how long he’s been there, except for when he starts getting tired, or needs to use the bathroom. He attempts to perform his calisthenics every other night, but it’s difficult. He knows humans settle at a 25-hour sleep schedule without a clock or sunlight, so he attempts to do the math, simply out of boredom.
He knows that it’s too soon to hear the sound at his door, though. The lock is undone, and the clasps of the door stop. Through the door comes Kylo Ren.
Hux is stunned. The man is not-dead. Rather, he is brushing through, outer robes thrown over one arm and falling to the ground haphazardly when he sees Hux slouched on top of the cot against a wall. The two parental figures stand behind the form of their dead son, watching him with troubled expressions as Kylo Ren sweeps through the room, towards Hux. “Brendol.” The man says, voice pure, and only then does Hux notice his face is unadorned by a mask. It’s strange to hear the name, Ren is the only person to have ever called him that, to everyone else, he was Hux, or Junior, when his father was Brendol.
The former-general stands up despite his leg, ignoring the pain when he puts wait on it to stumble towards Ren. He immediately has his hands on the man’s shoulders, and Hux is too easily able to ignore the picture of intimacy they display in front of Ren’s parents.
No, not Ren’s parents. Ben Solo is dead. Ren had no connection to these people, they only thought they still had a connection to Ren, while it had obviously been severed. “How did they acquire you?” Ren, at face value, did not look hurt. He wasn’t limping, his arms seemed to both be functioning. Hux discovers this through prodding the man, checking him like a mother loth-cat obsessing over its young. “Did they give you any wounds?” Hux continues.
Ren shakes his head, drawing attention to his pained face. “I came willingly. They claimed that they hadn’t dealt you any injury.” This, obviously was not true.
Hux was very wounded. It had all been treated, so he wasn’t in danger of death from his wounds, but the injury remained. His face was scratched up minorly, he’d received a blaster to his left leg, and his ribs had been wrapped, though he could still feel the bones displaced and shifted.
Han’s voice pipes up from where him and Leia remain, still half in the doorway of the room. “We said he was okay, not that he was healthy as a varactyl.” The doorway is...small, and the way him and Leia share the same space is painfully intimate, though, with the position Hux is in with Ren, he’s not sure if he can complain. Hux’s eyes focus back on Ren, and his body. “You are not okay.” He states, simply, he knows it to be true. He recognizes the look on Ren’s face when his bare hands press against the robes on his back, the one he so thoroughly uses a cape to hide. He’s already starting to undo Ren’s robes, letting the fabric fall from his shoulders. “You didn’t attend the Medical Bay on the Finalizer?” Then, to Leia, who he had a better relationship than he did with Solo. “You didn’t bring him to the Medical Bay here?”
They give him a surprised look.
His expression at Leia grows darker, and for the first time, she observes him losing his control. “I’ve told you, I have told you of the things they do to him, the things that he does to himself, the physical price of his failures! You think the way he looks says anything of that? You think he goes unwounded merely because of the way his face looks?” Hux couldn’t believe the woman so stupid. He supposes that he’s grown to trust her too much, this was what this damn Resistance ship did to him. It disgusts him. Did she not care for her own son? It goes against everything he’s ever known of of the Light cause.
Finally, the layers of Ren’s robes slip from his shoulders, and Hux would be embarrassed with just how familiar he is with how to remove the complicated robes if it weren’t for the wounds adorning Ren’s familiar body.
Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [2/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
Hux POV: 1455 words. Themes of Eugenics, Natural Selection.
+++
The Resistance ship is warmer than the Finalizer had ever been. Which is surprising, the Finalizer had many, many more bodies, though admittedly there was a often a lot of space between those bodies. It was a big ship. Even if the stormtroopers slept all piled onto one another in hammocks, the ship was too large compared to the amount of soldiers abiding within its pristine walls.
So, of course, there are differences in the Resistance base. For one, it it warm, the life support systems set at a higher degree temperature obviously. A waste of power, but it established the care they had for comfort. They even switched the direction of the bindings of his arms ever so often, so he wouldn’t accidentally dislocate his own shoulder. They cared about the comfort even of their own prisoner. It seemed...stupid. That was it. Stupid. The Resistance was soft, the Rebels were soft, everything before them. They were all too kind, too soft, and that’s why they couldn’t keep power. They mixed with aliens, breeding blood with the soft and asking for things. Too gentle, it would work in temporary, but of course, always in temporary. That’s why the Rebels, Resistance, and the Light would always fail, and the dark would always overtake them. Kindness only works in temporary.
He tries to tell Leia of this, over the past few days. They’ve started to communicate on more familiar terms, as long as he’s talking about Kylo Ren, and not any other portion of his fleet.
He will admit. He worries about that specific Knight of Ren. On that ship alone. The most that he could hope is that the man managed to kill himself in some quick and fast way, and his wounds weren’t festering and leading him to a slow and painful death without Hux there to fix them.
Leia doesn’t believe him. She doesn’t believe that her son would hurt himself like that, that the Dark had seduced him to the point of self-flagellation. She, rather thinks that he’s lying, trying to buy time for his troops to rescue him.
It’s a stupid idea. He has no hope of rescue. He only wishes not to wither away in the dirty, vile base and die without making any semblance of a difference. Making her angry, and possibly leading the force-sensitive cow into anger would be far more a worthy death to him.
They’ve finally left him uncuffed, let him fix his own wounds. He suspects that his leg won’t ever heal right, from the place it’s broken, the knee won’t ever bend right again. The only feeling he has in it is pain, and he find making it move at all as drastically painful.
He had known it was a matter of weeks before they found Kylo, or his body. He’d had his tracking device on him when he was captured. The only thing worth more to him than a map to Luke Skywalker, a map directly to Kylo Ren.
Ren was vital to the process of obliterating the Resistance and gaining complete control of the galaxy. At least, that was what Snoke told him. Kylo Ren was...erratic. He was soft, the biggest product of Resistance breeding. He attempted to escape his softness through meditation and the dark, but he couldn’t wipe it from himself.
His face was soft. The curve of his chin. Hux had...observed it before. How soft the man looked. Not just young, they were virtually the same age, but he somehow looked too foolish, too innocent. A product of the Resistance. But that softness was enticing, it made Hux wish to attempt to keep it there, to keep the slashes in his skin from scarring and becoming harsh gashes in the slim lines of his body. He liked his crunches curves, and feeling the hardness of his musculature below the softness of his skin.
It was a horrible thing to think about while he repaired Kylo’s wounds. There was no reason why Hux should lust after the man, even if they could procreate together, it would be a horrible mixing of pair. Hux’s children would never be born of the Resistance.
He’s lost in those thoughts, hours upon hours spent in that cell with only the sound of blood in his own ears. It’s hard for him to tell exactly how long he’s been there, except for when he starts getting tired, or needs to use the bathroom. He attempts to perform his calisthenics every other night, but it’s difficult. He knows humans settle at a 25-hour sleep schedule without a clock or sunlight, so he attempts to do the math, simply out of boredom.
He knows that it’s too soon to hear the sound at his door, though. The lock is undone, and the clasps of the door stop. Through the door comes Kylo Ren.
Hux is stunned. The man is not-dead. Rather, he is brushing through, outer robes thrown over one arm and falling to the ground haphazardly when he sees Hux slouched on top of the cot against a wall. The two parental figures stand behind the form of their dead son, watching him with troubled expressions as Kylo Ren sweeps through the room, towards Hux. “Brendol.” The man says, voice pure, and only then does Hux notice his face is unadorned by a mask. It’s strange to hear the name, Ren is the only person to have ever called him that, to everyone else, he was Hux, or Junior, when his father was Brendol.
The former-general stands up despite his leg, ignoring the pain when he puts wait on it to stumble towards Ren. He immediately has his hands on the man’s shoulders, and Hux is too easily able to ignore the picture of intimacy they display in front of Ren’s parents.
No, not Ren’s parents. Ben Solo is dead. Ren had no connection to these people, they only thought they still had a connection to Ren, while it had obviously been severed. “How did they acquire you?” Ren, at face value, did not look hurt. He wasn’t limping, his arms seemed to both be functioning. Hux discovers this through prodding the man, checking him like a mother loth-cat obsessing over its young. “Did they give you any wounds?” Hux continues.
Ren shakes his head, drawing attention to his pained face. “I came willingly. They claimed that they hadn’t dealt you any injury.” This, obviously was not true.
Hux was very wounded. It had all been treated, so he wasn’t in danger of death from his wounds, but the injury remained. His face was scratched up minorly, he’d received a blaster to his left leg, and his ribs had been wrapped, though he could still feel the bones displaced and shifted.
Han’s voice pipes up from where him and Leia remain, still half in the doorway of the room. “We said he was okay, not that he was healthy as a varactyl.” The doorway is...small, and the way him and Leia share the same space is painfully intimate, though, with the position Hux is in with Ren, he’s not sure if he can complain.
Hux’s eyes focus back on Ren, and his body. “You are not okay.” He states, simply, he knows it to be true. He recognizes the look on Ren’s face when his bare hands press against the robes on his back, the one he so thoroughly uses a cape to hide. He’s already starting to undo Ren’s robes, letting the fabric fall from his shoulders. “You didn’t attend the Medical Bay on the Finalizer?” Then, to Leia, who he had a better relationship than he did with Solo. “You didn’t bring him to the Medical Bay here?”
They give him a surprised look.
His expression at Leia grows darker, and for the first time, she observes him losing his control. “I’ve told you, I have told you of the things they do to him, the things that he does to himself, the physical price of his failures! You think the way he looks says anything of that? You think he goes unwounded merely because of the way his face looks?” Hux couldn’t believe the woman so stupid. He supposes that he’s grown to trust her too much, this was what this damn Resistance ship did to him. It disgusts him. Did she not care for her own son? It goes against everything he’s ever known of of the Light cause.
Finally, the layers of Ren’s robes slip from his shoulders, and Hux would be embarrassed with just how familiar he is with how to remove the complicated robes if it weren’t for the wounds adorning Ren’s familiar body.