[A/N: Nonny, your prompt is obscene and beautiful. I hope you accept gagging and clothed blowjobs along with your actual prompt.]
Gag Order
Battle simulation droids, programmed to simulate the battle styles of non-human combatants, are one of the cornerstones of the Stormtrooper training program. Their AI, while primitive, is programmed, rather ingeniously, to adapt to each trooper as they progress through the program. They are not elegantly made or beautiful to look at, but they are useful. To General Hux, they are worth their weight in gold.
They also do not come cheap, and Hux, lurking at the edge of the training room dedicated to their use, has just watched Kylo Ren decapitate two of them.
With his bare hands.
The rare spectacle of Ren unmasked and dressed in light clothing, masquerading as an off-duty officer, does not distract Hux from his destruction of First Order property. As Ren rounds on a third droid, Hux crosses the barracks as silently as he can manage in his boots. Luckily, Ren is sufficiently distracted by whatever’s spurred on this childish, violent tantrum that he doesn’t notice Hux behind him until Hux sneers, practically in his ear, “Having fun, Ren?”
When Ren turns, face furious and hands raised in an offensive stance, Hux claps the binders on his wrists. “Stand down,” he orders the droid, which obeys as sweetly and neatly as he wishes Ren would.
He also wishes, not for the first time, that he had some kind of Force inhibitor device, but they’re hard to find on the black market and he’s loathe to ask Supreme Leader Snoke for permission to rob his little pet of his precious powers. But the regulation binders, magnetized to attach to any handy metal surface, do their work. They do it slowly, due to Ren’s size and strength, but the magnetized binders eventually trap his wrists against the nearest wall, his bare, impressive arms making perfect, white ninety degree angles against the smooth black surface.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ren demands, dark eyes furious. But he doesn’t struggle against the binders. Hux smiles nastily and steps through the droid carnage to him.
“Does it ever occur to you that other people must use these facilities, Ren?” Hux sneers. “That other people pay for the things that you destroy? Are you aware that other people exist, Ren, and have needs, needs whose fulfillment you insist on frustrating?” He pauses, pointedly, staring up their scant height difference into Ren’s face, waiting for a response.
Ren spits in his face.
Hux snarls and rears back, as if struck by acid. He unbuttons his jacket and pulls his handkerchief out of its pocket in the lining of his jacket to wipe his face clean. When he glares up at Ren, Ren bares his teeth at him, and Hux gets an idea.
Hux makes a show of slowly rolling his handkerchief up before pulling it taut. “If you insist on behaving like a wild animal,” he says, “then I will have to treat you like one.” He presses the makeshift gag against Ren’s lips. Ren snarls again, straining a little at his restraints, but Hux kicks him, hard, to make him gasp in pain and provide an opening. He shoves the handkerchief into Ren’s mouth and quickly ties it around the back of his head, knotting the fabric against his thick, dark hair.
As he lowers his hands, he notices that Ren is straining, slightly but noticeably, towards him. He takes a step back, appraising Ren, raking his eyes over him. Ren is not an unattractive man, with those broad shoulders and that surprisingly lush mouth. Hux is unsurprised to discover that he finds Ren more appealing like this—bound, gagged, straining.
In his rightful place.
As Hux’s eyes travel down the broad, powerful lines of Ren’s body, his eyes catch on the slight but unmistakable bulge in Ren’s grey sweatpants. A nasty grin spreads over his face. “Oh, I see what’s going on,” he says, delighted. He glances up into Ren’s eyes. Ren doesn’t even have the decency to blush or look ashamed of himself. Instead, his pupils dilate and the corners of his mouth twitch obscenely around the gag. “You get off on this,” Hux says. “You get off on being punished. You’re a cliché, Ren.”
Not that Hux himself is any less of one—he can feel heat pool in his belly at the idea of Ren enjoying their arguments a little too much. He takes a step closer to Ren, close enough to touch him. He does not. “Is that why? Is that why you destroy my things? Just so I’ll punish you? And then—what? You go back to your quarters and fuck your hand while you’re pressing on your bruises?”
He can see it so clearly—Ren desperately fucking into his hand, biting on that obscene lower lip, maybe yanking on one of the nipples Hux can see through the thin white fabric of Ren’s sleeveless white shirt. Hux’s cock stiffens and he licks his lips at the idea.
Ren’s eyes widen and he breathes in sharply through his nose. Hux suddenly realizes that Ren has probably never heard him curse before. The idea that Ren—Ren, who worships and devotes himself to the Dark Side—would find him cursing somehow shocking makes him all the more eager to do so. “I bet you’ve never been fucked before, Ren. Arguing with me is probably the closest you’ve ever come to it. It’s all you think about when you touch yourself.”
Ren’s gaze remains steady and intense, but he’s blinking more and more and he’s starting to pant, as much as he can, through the gag. Hux’s own breathing becomes labored as he imagines Ren touching himself—no, fingering himself furiously, he’d be that desperate—over something Hux said to him in anger.
Hux lays a gloved hand on Ren’s chest before he makes an active decision to do so. It surprises him, that sudden loss of control, but that surprise is drowned out by how hot Ren’s skin is beneath his hand, even through the leather of the glove. Hux’s cock stiffens and swells further, starting to ache. Ren makes a low, groaning noise, and tries to strain forward against the restraints. He could use the Force, Hux thinks, be free in an instant. The fact that he’s not makes Hux’s mouth go dry with lust.
He presses himself against Ren, again without deciding to do so, and Ren makes a desperate, hissing noise as Hux mounts one of his broad, powerful thighs, rubbing himself against him, slowly, deliberately. “I bet you’d prefer to get punished with this,” Hux says. He grinds his hips against Ren’s thighs, and suppresses a gasp. “That’s what you think about when you touch yourself, isn’t it? Me fucking some sense into you?”
He’s not prepared for Ren to nod fervently, eyes fogged with lust. Hux’s head suddenly swims with how hard his cock is, straining painfully at his fly.
Hux takes a deep breath and peels off one of his gloves. He stuffs it into his handkerchief pocket in his jacket and hastily undoes his fly with his bare hand. He pulls his cock out of his underwear, pumping it once, twice. Ren gives another low groan, and Hux’s cock twitches in his hand at the sound. “See something you like, Ren?”
Ren nods again, and Hux thinks of Ren, naked, on his knees in his quarters, nodding that sweetly to whatever depraved request Hux can dream up for him—sucking his cock, coming on the floor just to lick it off, licking his boots clean. Hux’s cock leaks precome, dripping onto his knuckles. He presses a hand between Ren’s legs and pulls it back, startled by both the sheer size of Ren’s cock and the fact that Ren isn’t wearing any underwear. Hux smirks. “You’re just begging to get caught, aren’t you?”
Hux reaches for the hem of Ren’s shirt with his still-gloved right hand and pulls it up, casually, until he’s pushed the shirt up around Ren’s nipples. He means to do the same to Ren’s loose pants, pull them to his knees, expose his cock, but the revelation of Ren’s body drives any other thoughts from Hux’s mind.
Ren is broad, strong, and rippling with muscle. His flat abs are like nothing Hux has ever seen before, and the idea that Ren has been hiding this underneath layers and layers of robes and that damned mask suddenly makes Hux furious. He grinds against Ren’s thigh. As he slides upwards, the pink tip of his cock brushes against Ren’s muscled stomach. Hux thinks about coming on Ren’s stomach just to lick it off. The idea is so unbearably erotic to him that it takes him a moment to realize that it’s actually happening. He’s already coming, coming too soon, squirting hot, white come all over Ren’s stomach.
As soon as he drains the last drop onto Ren’s stomach, Hux falls to his knees, as if possessed. His thighs are shaking from his premature orgasm. Ren makes a scoffing noise somewhere above him, but he moans when Hux begins licking his stomach clean of his own salty come. The muscle is hard underneath his tongue, but the skin is soft, interrupted only by the trail of dark, coarse hair leading from Ren’s navel to his cock. Hux follows with his tongue.
Ren moans and bucks his hips forward, encouraging Hux to go lower, but he doesn’t. Instead, he braces himself by placing his right hand directly on Ren’s cock, palming it through the thin cotton. It’s thick under his gloved hand. He tongues Ren’s navel clean of come and swallows, breathing heavily.
He glances up at Ren, who is staring down at him. The corners of Ren’s mouth quirk upwards around the gag, and Hux suddenly sees the situation from Ren’s perspective. The great General, coming too quickly, overwhelmed by Ren’s body and already on his knees, in the perfect position to—
The idea of Ren seeing him as somehow desperate for him, when it’s so clearly the other way around, infuriates Hux. He grinds his palm into Ren’s dick, making Ren yelp in pain, and then replaces his hand with his mouth, licking and mumbling against Ren’s covered cock. He traces his lips over the outline of Ren’s thick cock through the thin fabric, almost taking the head into his mouth. Soon, the fabric is damp with Hux’s saliva and Ren’s precome. Ren whines, muffled, and bucks his hips into Hux’s face, grinding against him. Hux grabs his hips to still him. Ren tries to say something through the gag, and Hux sits back on his heels, just in time to watch the Master of the Knights of Ren come in his pants with a low, helpless groan. He sags against his restraints.
Hux runs a hand through his hair. That ought to teach him, he thinks. After all, he’s still in his uniform, which is miraculously dry of come, and Ren is tied to the wall, face red, a massive, obvious, and obscene wet spot on the front of his sweatpants. When Hux tucks himself back into his trousers and stands up, he sees that the makeshift gag is soaked, too, as if Ren has been watering at the mouth at what Hux has done to him.
“Is this what you need, Ren?” he asks. “Is this what you want?”
Ren says something. Hux unties the gag and throws it to the floor. Ren strains forward to savage his mouth, sinking his teeth in Hux’s lower lip. Hux can’t hold back a whine at that, and when he pulls back, Ren is smirking at him like he’s somehow won.
FILL: Kylo Ren has an 8-pack
Gag Order
Battle simulation droids, programmed to simulate the battle styles of non-human combatants, are one of the cornerstones of the Stormtrooper training program. Their AI, while primitive, is programmed, rather ingeniously, to adapt to each trooper as they progress through the program. They are not elegantly made or beautiful to look at, but they are useful. To General Hux, they are worth their weight in gold.
They also do not come cheap, and Hux, lurking at the edge of the training room dedicated to their use, has just watched Kylo Ren decapitate two of them.
With his bare hands.
The rare spectacle of Ren unmasked and dressed in light clothing, masquerading as an off-duty officer, does not distract Hux from his destruction of First Order property. As Ren rounds on a third droid, Hux crosses the barracks as silently as he can manage in his boots. Luckily, Ren is sufficiently distracted by whatever’s spurred on this childish, violent tantrum that he doesn’t notice Hux behind him until Hux sneers, practically in his ear, “Having fun, Ren?”
When Ren turns, face furious and hands raised in an offensive stance, Hux claps the binders on his wrists. “Stand down,” he orders the droid, which obeys as sweetly and neatly as he wishes Ren would.
He also wishes, not for the first time, that he had some kind of Force inhibitor device, but they’re hard to find on the black market and he’s loathe to ask Supreme Leader Snoke for permission to rob his little pet of his precious powers. But the regulation binders, magnetized to attach to any handy metal surface, do their work. They do it slowly, due to Ren’s size and strength, but the magnetized binders eventually trap his wrists against the nearest wall, his bare, impressive arms making perfect, white ninety degree angles against the smooth black surface.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ren demands, dark eyes furious. But he doesn’t struggle against the binders. Hux smiles nastily and steps through the droid carnage to him.
“Does it ever occur to you that other people must use these facilities, Ren?” Hux sneers. “That other people pay for the things that you destroy? Are you aware that other people exist, Ren, and have needs, needs whose fulfillment you insist on frustrating?” He pauses, pointedly, staring up their scant height difference into Ren’s face, waiting for a response.
Ren spits in his face.
Hux snarls and rears back, as if struck by acid. He unbuttons his jacket and pulls his handkerchief out of its pocket in the lining of his jacket to wipe his face clean. When he glares up at Ren, Ren bares his teeth at him, and Hux gets an idea.
Hux makes a show of slowly rolling his handkerchief up before pulling it taut. “If you insist on behaving like a wild animal,” he says, “then I will have to treat you like one.” He presses the makeshift gag against Ren’s lips. Ren snarls again, straining a little at his restraints, but Hux kicks him, hard, to make him gasp in pain and provide an opening. He shoves the handkerchief into Ren’s mouth and quickly ties it around the back of his head, knotting the fabric against his thick, dark hair.
As he lowers his hands, he notices that Ren is straining, slightly but noticeably, towards him. He takes a step back, appraising Ren, raking his eyes over him. Ren is not an unattractive man, with those broad shoulders and that surprisingly lush mouth. Hux is unsurprised to discover that he finds Ren more appealing like this—bound, gagged, straining.
In his rightful place.
As Hux’s eyes travel down the broad, powerful lines of Ren’s body, his eyes catch on the slight but unmistakable bulge in Ren’s grey sweatpants. A nasty grin spreads over his face. “Oh, I see what’s going on,” he says, delighted. He glances up into Ren’s eyes. Ren doesn’t even have the decency to blush or look ashamed of himself. Instead, his pupils dilate and the corners of his mouth twitch obscenely around the gag. “You get off on this,” Hux says. “You get off on being punished. You’re a cliché, Ren.”
Not that Hux himself is any less of one—he can feel heat pool in his belly at the idea of Ren enjoying their arguments a little too much. He takes a step closer to Ren, close enough to touch him. He does not. “Is that why? Is that why you destroy my things? Just so I’ll punish you? And then—what? You go back to your quarters and fuck your hand while you’re pressing on your bruises?”
He can see it so clearly—Ren desperately fucking into his hand, biting on that obscene lower lip, maybe yanking on one of the nipples Hux can see through the thin white fabric of Ren’s sleeveless white shirt. Hux’s cock stiffens and he licks his lips at the idea.
Ren’s eyes widen and he breathes in sharply through his nose. Hux suddenly realizes that Ren has probably never heard him curse before. The idea that Ren—Ren, who worships and devotes himself to the Dark Side—would find him cursing somehow shocking makes him all the more eager to do so. “I bet you’ve never been fucked before, Ren. Arguing with me is probably the closest you’ve ever come to it. It’s all you think about when you touch yourself.”
Ren’s gaze remains steady and intense, but he’s blinking more and more and he’s starting to pant, as much as he can, through the gag. Hux’s own breathing becomes labored as he imagines Ren touching himself—no, fingering himself furiously, he’d be that desperate—over something Hux said to him in anger.
Hux lays a gloved hand on Ren’s chest before he makes an active decision to do so. It surprises him, that sudden loss of control, but that surprise is drowned out by how hot Ren’s skin is beneath his hand, even through the leather of the glove. Hux’s cock stiffens and swells further, starting to ache. Ren makes a low, groaning noise, and tries to strain forward against the restraints. He could use the Force, Hux thinks, be free in an instant. The fact that he’s not makes Hux’s mouth go dry with lust.
He presses himself against Ren, again without deciding to do so, and Ren makes a desperate, hissing noise as Hux mounts one of his broad, powerful thighs, rubbing himself against him, slowly, deliberately. “I bet you’d prefer to get punished with this,” Hux says. He grinds his hips against Ren’s thighs, and suppresses a gasp. “That’s what you think about when you touch yourself, isn’t it? Me fucking some sense into you?”
He’s not prepared for Ren to nod fervently, eyes fogged with lust. Hux’s head suddenly swims with how hard his cock is, straining painfully at his fly.
Hux takes a deep breath and peels off one of his gloves. He stuffs it into his handkerchief pocket in his jacket and hastily undoes his fly with his bare hand. He pulls his cock out of his underwear, pumping it once, twice. Ren gives another low groan, and Hux’s cock twitches in his hand at the sound. “See something you like, Ren?”
Ren nods again, and Hux thinks of Ren, naked, on his knees in his quarters, nodding that sweetly to whatever depraved request Hux can dream up for him—sucking his cock, coming on the floor just to lick it off, licking his boots clean. Hux’s cock leaks precome, dripping onto his knuckles. He presses a hand between Ren’s legs and pulls it back, startled by both the sheer size of Ren’s cock and the fact that Ren isn’t wearing any underwear. Hux smirks. “You’re just begging to get caught, aren’t you?”
Hux reaches for the hem of Ren’s shirt with his still-gloved right hand and pulls it up, casually, until he’s pushed the shirt up around Ren’s nipples. He means to do the same to Ren’s loose pants, pull them to his knees, expose his cock, but the revelation of Ren’s body drives any other thoughts from Hux’s mind.
Ren is broad, strong, and rippling with muscle. His flat abs are like nothing Hux has ever seen before, and the idea that Ren has been hiding this underneath layers and layers of robes and that damned mask suddenly makes Hux furious. He grinds against Ren’s thigh. As he slides upwards, the pink tip of his cock brushes against Ren’s muscled stomach. Hux thinks about coming on Ren’s stomach just to lick it off. The idea is so unbearably erotic to him that it takes him a moment to realize that it’s actually happening. He’s already coming, coming too soon, squirting hot, white come all over Ren’s stomach.
As soon as he drains the last drop onto Ren’s stomach, Hux falls to his knees, as if possessed. His thighs are shaking from his premature orgasm. Ren makes a scoffing noise somewhere above him, but he moans when Hux begins licking his stomach clean of his own salty come. The muscle is hard underneath his tongue, but the skin is soft, interrupted only by the trail of dark, coarse hair leading from Ren’s navel to his cock. Hux follows with his tongue.
Ren moans and bucks his hips forward, encouraging Hux to go lower, but he doesn’t. Instead, he braces himself by placing his right hand directly on Ren’s cock, palming it through the thin cotton. It’s thick under his gloved hand. He tongues Ren’s navel clean of come and swallows, breathing heavily.
He glances up at Ren, who is staring down at him. The corners of Ren’s mouth quirk upwards around the gag, and Hux suddenly sees the situation from Ren’s perspective. The great General, coming too quickly, overwhelmed by Ren’s body and already on his knees, in the perfect position to—
The idea of Ren seeing him as somehow desperate for him, when it’s so clearly the other way around, infuriates Hux. He grinds his palm into Ren’s dick, making Ren yelp in pain, and then replaces his hand with his mouth, licking and mumbling against Ren’s covered cock. He traces his lips over the outline of Ren’s thick cock through the thin fabric, almost taking the head into his mouth. Soon, the fabric is damp with Hux’s saliva and Ren’s precome. Ren whines, muffled, and bucks his hips into Hux’s face, grinding against him. Hux grabs his hips to still him. Ren tries to say something through the gag, and Hux sits back on his heels, just in time to watch the Master of the Knights of Ren come in his pants with a low, helpless groan. He sags against his restraints.
Hux runs a hand through his hair. That ought to teach him, he thinks. After all, he’s still in his uniform, which is miraculously dry of come, and Ren is tied to the wall, face red, a massive, obvious, and obscene wet spot on the front of his sweatpants. When Hux tucks himself back into his trousers and stands up, he sees that the makeshift gag is soaked, too, as if Ren has been watering at the mouth at what Hux has done to him.
“Is this what you need, Ren?” he asks. “Is this what you want?”
Ren says something. Hux unties the gag and throws it to the floor. Ren strains forward to savage his mouth, sinking his teeth in Hux’s lower lip. Hux can’t hold back a whine at that, and when he pulls back, Ren is smirking at him like he’s somehow won.