Had to get it started somehow. This doesn't do justice to this prompt, it's so good.
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Before Hux even reaches the tucked away apartment, he hears the distinct sound of wood clashing violently against the wall.
Probably a chair. Maybe the end table. He hopes it's not the ottoman.
He loiters near the door of apartment 7F, waiting patiently for the sound of shattering glass and rough, muffled shouts to cease. The door opens and a man--around 40 years old, balding, the professional type, probably married with two kids--rushes out, pantsless with a bundle of clothes in his hands.
"Fuck you, you little piece of shit! How dare you!" The disembodied voice still in the room is getting louder as it approaches the open door, presumably ready to throw another object, "Go home to your damn wife, you irresponsibly little toad!"
The phantom appears at the door just as the businessman scurries down the hall towards the elevator, frantically pressing the down button and hopping on one foot trying to redress himself. The man who has just emerged is holding an ornate vase in his hand, ready to strike. The storm on his face doesn't dissipate upon seeing Hux.
"What the hell do you want?" He hisses, lowering the vase as the frightened man finally enters the elevator, "You don't have an appointment."
"I thought you could squeeze me in, Ren."
"Don't get fresh with me," Ren replies as he motions for Hux to enter.
Hux hated Ren's apartment. It was too decadent, too elegant for the angry mess of a man in front of him. A rococo chaise lounge, a couch patterned lavishly in navy, red and gold, a full-size reprint of Klimt's The Kiss, a gilt bronze timepiece, a crystal chandelier. The wallpaper had probably been picked out when the 20s were still roaring, a dizzying burgundy and gold Art Deco design. The place was cluttered but cozy, the lights always low and casting shadows. A room right out of an old film.
"What did he do to you?" Hux finally says, flicking a thumb to the battered chair and fragmented lamp near the door.
"Fucking asked me to run away with him," Ren growls, "His damn wife just had a baby, too. That little subhuman piece of trash..."
Hux settles onto the sofa as Ren stomps off to his bedroom. As usual, Ren has surprised him. Hux didn't think the younger man would care or even know about the domestic aspects of his customers lives. Then again, it probably has to do more with trying to turn a quick fuck with Kylo Ren into something more romantic and melodramatic. Ren was cut and dry--you pay him then he does his thing then you leave.
He's not cheap, not even the best fuck Hux's had, but Ren has an animal quality to him: feral, defiant, unattached. Half the satisfaction is in trying to pin him down and shutting him up when he's spitting venom. Once your satisfied, once you pin him and fuck him senseless, he regains his composure and tells you to leave unless you have enough money for the next hour.
That's the quality that has Hux coming back.
"Oh." Hux shrugs as Ren re-enters the room.
"What do you want?" Ren frowns impatiently. "Blowjob before work, Mr. Bigshot? It's the usual fee, upfront, plus a no appointment fee."
"Fine." Hux says as slowly as he takes out his wallet and hands the money to Ren, who counts it before sticking it in his pocket. "Wait."
Ren has positioned himself between Hux's legs already, his eyes furrowing in irritation at being interrupted. "What is it now?"
"Just don't. I actually had something else in mind." Ren is still between his legs, still irritated, waiting for Hux to finish. "Listen to me till the end: I need you to pretend to be my fiancée..."
"You're kidding?" Ren interrupts, really looking up at him now with his mouth agape. "What do I look like to you? I am not fucking Pretty Woman, Hux. I'll blow you, I'll fuck you, I'll let you come on my face but I am not running around playing pretend with you."
"I'd pay." Hux responds with a shrug. "Per diem plus meals."
"No." Ren is getting up now, shaking his head. He stops and turns around, "But I'll take the bait. Why do you need a fake fiancée?"
"Dear old Dad died last night." Hux sighs, sarcasm seeping into his voice. "In the hush of night, the bloodsuckers I call family called up the family lawyer to get their rightful piece." Ren listens attentively and Hux thinks he may be considering. "I thought I was going to inherit the company."
"You aren't?"
Hux's face twists in anger. "That's the thing, I did. But with the stipulation that I get married."
Ren laughs. "That's what you get for relying on old money."
"Of course Father dearest would find a way to antagonize me in death." Hux grinds his teeth then looks intently at Ren, "I don't want a fucking spouse, Ren. I want a business partner, someone who understands it's a transaction. We play it up as fiancées, get a quicky marriage then I get the company legally. You can live your life and we'll divorce quietly three months later."
Ren's mouth moves in thought. "Fine." He slaps his hands onto his thighs, "But I want per hour pay, the standard fuck rate. Plus food and expenses. Nothing before 10AM and nothing after 11PM. Maximum three events a week and I reserve the right to not go to any event. I will not call you by a pet name, you may call me 'darling' only, and no kissing beyond the cheek." He huffs and extends a hand, "Deal?"
Fill: Hux/Kylo Ren undying Fake Dating/married trope (1)
---
Before Hux even reaches the tucked away apartment, he hears the distinct sound of wood clashing violently against the wall.
Probably a chair. Maybe the end table. He hopes it's not the ottoman.
He loiters near the door of apartment 7F, waiting patiently for the sound of shattering glass and rough, muffled shouts to cease. The door opens and a man--around 40 years old, balding, the professional type, probably married with two kids--rushes out, pantsless with a bundle of clothes in his hands.
"Fuck you, you little piece of shit! How dare you!" The disembodied voice still in the room is getting louder as it approaches the open door, presumably ready to throw another object, "Go home to your damn wife, you irresponsibly little toad!"
The phantom appears at the door just as the businessman scurries down the hall towards the elevator, frantically pressing the down button and hopping on one foot trying to redress himself. The man who has just emerged is holding an ornate vase in his hand, ready to strike. The storm on his face doesn't dissipate upon seeing Hux.
"What the hell do you want?" He hisses, lowering the vase as the frightened man finally enters the elevator, "You don't have an appointment."
"I thought you could squeeze me in, Ren."
"Don't get fresh with me," Ren replies as he motions for Hux to enter.
Hux hated Ren's apartment. It was too decadent, too elegant for the angry mess of a man in front of him. A rococo chaise lounge, a couch patterned lavishly in navy, red and gold, a full-size reprint of Klimt's The Kiss, a gilt bronze timepiece, a crystal chandelier. The wallpaper had probably been picked out when the 20s were still roaring, a dizzying burgundy and gold Art Deco design. The place was cluttered but cozy, the lights always low and casting shadows. A room right out of an old film.
"What did he do to you?" Hux finally says, flicking a thumb to the battered chair and fragmented lamp near the door.
"Fucking asked me to run away with him," Ren growls, "His damn wife just had a baby, too. That little subhuman piece of trash..."
Hux settles onto the sofa as Ren stomps off to his bedroom. As usual, Ren has surprised him. Hux didn't think the younger man would care or even know about the domestic aspects of his customers lives. Then again, it probably has to do more with trying to turn a quick fuck with Kylo Ren into something more romantic and melodramatic. Ren was cut and dry--you pay him then he does his thing then you leave.
He's not cheap, not even the best fuck Hux's had, but Ren has an animal quality to him: feral, defiant, unattached. Half the satisfaction is in trying to pin him down and shutting him up when he's spitting venom. Once your satisfied, once you pin him and fuck him senseless, he regains his composure and tells you to leave unless you have enough money for the next hour.
That's the quality that has Hux coming back.
"Oh." Hux shrugs as Ren re-enters the room.
"What do you want?" Ren frowns impatiently. "Blowjob before work, Mr. Bigshot? It's the usual fee, upfront, plus a no appointment fee."
"Fine." Hux says as slowly as he takes out his wallet and hands the money to Ren, who counts it before sticking it in his pocket. "Wait."
Ren has positioned himself between Hux's legs already, his eyes furrowing in irritation at being interrupted. "What is it now?"
"Just don't. I actually had something else in mind." Ren is still between his legs, still irritated, waiting for Hux to finish. "Listen to me till the end: I need you to pretend to be my fiancée..."
"You're kidding?" Ren interrupts, really looking up at him now with his mouth agape. "What do I look like to you? I am not fucking Pretty Woman, Hux. I'll blow you, I'll fuck you, I'll let you come on my face but I am not running around playing pretend with you."
"I'd pay." Hux responds with a shrug. "Per diem plus meals."
"No." Ren is getting up now, shaking his head. He stops and turns around, "But I'll take the bait. Why do you need a fake fiancée?"
"Dear old Dad died last night." Hux sighs, sarcasm seeping into his voice. "In the hush of night, the bloodsuckers I call family called up the family lawyer to get their rightful piece." Ren listens attentively and Hux thinks he may be considering. "I thought I was going to inherit the company."
"You aren't?"
Hux's face twists in anger. "That's the thing, I did. But with the stipulation that I get married."
Ren laughs. "That's what you get for relying on old money."
"Of course Father dearest would find a way to antagonize me in death." Hux grinds his teeth then looks intently at Ren, "I don't want a fucking spouse, Ren. I want a business partner, someone who understands it's a transaction. We play it up as fiancées, get a quicky marriage then I get the company legally. You can live your life and we'll divorce quietly three months later."
Ren's mouth moves in thought. "Fine." He slaps his hands onto his thighs, "But I want per hour pay, the standard fuck rate. Plus food and expenses. Nothing before 10AM and nothing after 11PM. Maximum three events a week and I reserve the right to not go to any event. I will not call you by a pet name, you may call me 'darling' only, and no kissing beyond the cheek." He huffs and extends a hand, "Deal?"
Hux blinks in disbelief. "Deal."
He has a husband.