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tfa_kink2016-02-26 05:03 pm
themodawakens) wrote in tfa_kink2016-02-26 05:03 pm
Entry tags:
PROMPT POST #4
This post is closed to new prompts!
prompt post one
prompt post two
prompt post three
+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
+ don't hijack other people's prompts.
+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
+ PLAY NICE
FILL: Kylo/Hux - Hux in the slave outfit 1/2
(Anonymous) 2016-03-28 02:16 am (UTC)(link)The Dashing Knight and the Grateful Whore
After two days chained up in this windowless but well-appointed room, the occasional scream of an unwilling slave in the hall outside as they’re dragged to the auction house’s floor has become so much background noise to General Hux. It only reminds him to focus on his breathing and whatever inventory he’s counting to keep himself sane and calm—Echani forms, every member of the Imperial Senate, the faces of every slaver in this cartel he’s going to personally murder once he gets out of this, licenses be damned. The only way out, Hux knows, will be through. There’s no escaping the manacles chaining him to the wall. Even if he managed that, the odds of besting the veritable squadron of hulking, reptilian Yinchorri outside with nothing but his bare hands is nil. In a few hours, he will be sold to the highest bidder, and it will probably be only in their bed, afterwards, that he’ll be able to kill them and escape.
That, he’s fine with. It’s the waiting that’s killing him.
Whoever is screaming in the hall screams again. This time, the scream is followed by a strange, wet, slicing noise. As Hux tries to identify that, he suddenly hears the low and unmistakable hum of an unstable lightsaber.
Hux never thought he’d be relieved to hear Kylo Ren.
Hux closes his eyes to focus, trying to visualize the layout of the auction house from the scant bit of it he’d seen before they’d locked him in here. There were at least seven guards stationed in the hallway, but he’d been brought in during a busy auction—he has no idea how many slavers are on watch this early in the morning.
Another scream, another guard dead. Hux stops counting senators and starts counting death throes instead, relishing them even as he wishes he was the one slicing them to ribbons. He counts seven dead guards and then, surprisingly, an eighth. He’d miscalculated.
There’s a loud, reverberating banging noise, followed by a flurry of bare footfalls. The other slaves, Hux thinks, making their escape. Hux waits for his.
Ren bursts through the door, and Hux feels such strange lurch of relief at seeing his familiar form that he has to cut at him. “Where the hell have you been?” he demands, as if he’s been waiting for Ren to come rescue him instead of resigning himself to his fate.
Ren prowls the perimeter of the room, his lightsaber humming erratically. “They removed your tracker,” he says, by way of excuse. Hux knows that—they hadn’t bothered to anesthetize him to do it. When Ren finishes his inspection of the room, he turns and finally looks at Hux, powering down his lightsaber.
When he realizes what Hux is wearing, he tilts his great helmed head.
Hux scowls at him. He can imagine how it looks, although the Yinchorri weren’t stupid enough to put him anywhere near a mirror he could break. But he’d seen the garment, a juvenile fantasy of scraps of cheap fabric attached to twists of metal, before they’d stripped him of his uniform, hosed him down, and strapped it onto him. What he’d initially taken for one piece had actually actually two. The metal belt lies low against his hips, the sheer purple skirt doing nothing to hide his modesty. The bra digs into his chest, and the chain around his neck clatters against it every time he strains at the restraints around his wrists. The Yinchorri hadn’t had a collar small enough for his neck, so they’d given him this makeshift one, just a chain looped around itself.
He hasn’t had much time to feel underdressed. While the Yinchorri had made it clear that their interest in him is prurient (was prurient, thanks to Ren), the climate on this planet is so blazingly hot that the Yinchorri he’s seen haven’t been wearing much. Besides, the difference of being the only human among them had outweighed anything else. But now, in the company of another human, he feels naked. More than naked—exposed.
Hux shifts uncomfortably as Ren just keeps looking at him. “Get me out of these,” he orders.
Instead, Ren removes his helmet, as if to better savor Hux’s humiliation. He’s sweating, strands of his dark hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He crosses the distance between them to stand in front of Hux, eyes roaming his body. Ren’s gaze is sharp on Hux’s skin.
“Why did they give you a bra?” Ren asks, bemused.
“They’re reptiles,” Hux scoffs. “They think all nipples are unbearably exotic.”
“Mmm,” Ren says noncommittally, staring at his chest shamelessly, pressing his tongue into the corner of his mouth as if thinking. Hux jumps, or tries to, when one of Ren’s gloved hands reaches between them to press the metal cup into Hux’s flesh, the metal digging against his nipple. Ren’s leather-clad fingers trail along his ribs. Hux can feel himself start to flush and worse—he can feel a familiar heat start to coil low in his belly.
“What are you doing?” Hux demands.
Ren’s dark, unfathomable eyes flicker up to his briefly. “Picking up where we left off.”
Where they left off? Hux thinks back. Where they’d left off was an argument where Hux had finally given into temptation and punched Ren in the face. He can see the faint, healing bruise on Ren’s left cheekbone. Ren had shoved him against the nearest wall, his eyes glittering with anger, and his breath had been so hot on Hux’s mouth. Of course, duty had called right at that moment, separating them.
That night, Hux had dreamed it had not, that Ren had hurt him in return and taken his pleasure on him. “I thought I dreamed that,” Hux says.
“You did,” Ren says simply. “I saw.”
The notion that Ren has been watching his dreams should offend him, he knows, but the idea that Ren returns his interest intrigues him too much to care. The half-remembered dream of Ren fucking him until his vision goes white makes his cock stir and his skin prickle with heat.
Ren presses their hips flush together, close enough that Hux can feel the frankly impressive bulge underneath Ren’s many layers, but not so close that Hux can grind against him. When he tries, Ren grabs him by the waist. Hux suppresses a gasp at the feel of the rough fabric against his sensitive skin. Ren smells like leather, Yinchorri blood, and scorched earth. It’s heady.
“Is that you want, General?” Ren murmurs, pressing his thumbs into Hux’s side, rubbing his hands up and down him. “For me to bite you, bruise you, fuck you until you can’t stand?”
Hux smirks at him. “For a start.”
Ren lifts one hand off of Hux’s hips to grab him by the jaw, forcing his mouth open. Hux licks his lips in spite of himself.
“Is this some fantasy of yours?” Hux taunts. “The dashing knight and the grateful whore?”
Ren is a grim and serious man, for all his outbursts, but the corner of his lip quirks upwards. “You certainly look the part.” Ren rubs his gloved thumb over his cheek, rasping against the two days’ worth of stubble on Hux’s face. “I thought they would have shaved you,” he notes.
“They’re reptiles,” Hux reminds him. “Mammals are exotic to them, hair, nipples, and all.”
Ren nods. He releases his grip on Hux’s jaw to trace his jawline with his fingers, leaning in closely enough for his hot breath to ghost over Hux’s lips. Desire overwhelms him, and Hux instinctively tries to lean into his touch, tip his chin up to kiss him. Ren tilts his face away, denying him, and Hux’s manacles rattle as he pulls their chains taut trying to follow him.
Ren smirks and slides the gloved hand still on Hux’s waist down his body and under the skirt, grabbing a good handful of Hux’s ass. Hux hisses and rolls his hips into the touch. His cock continues to stiffen. He can feel his face burning as Ren just takes him in, his dark eyes flickering up and down his body, cataloging him.
All of this being handled, being unable to touch Ren back, is going to drive Hux mad with lust. His breathing is already labored and he’s already half-hard underneath the sheer skirt. When they get back to the Finalizer, he promises himself, after he’s showered and shaved, he’s going to lock Ren in his quarters and indulge himself.
He deserves it, after the last two days.
“Ren,” he says, “if you’re going to ravish me where I stand, might I have the use of my hands to return the favor?”
Ren looks at him for a long moment, massaging Hux’s ass hard enough to make him shudder violently. At last, he nods and takes a step back, leaving Hux feeling cold and unattended.
Ren gestures at the manacles with one hand and Hux glances up to see them open. He wrenches his wrists out of them, rubbing the joints tenderly. He’s been wearing the manacles for two days—the skin around his wrist is irritated and raw.
There’s a sudden pull on his neck, and Hux glances up to see that Ren has grabbed the chain attached to his neck. He rattles it, smirking. He must be loving this, Hux thinks, having me on a leash, even as the thought of Ren cutting off his air with it inflames him. Ren could choke him with it if he’s not careful.
And Hux has never known Ren to be careful. Instead of filling him with dread, that notion sends a thrill up his spine and an ache into his cock.
Ren pulls again, harder this time, and Hux stumbles forward on awkward feet. “You haven’t paid for me, Ren,” Hux taunts as he recovers his fooitng. He means it lightly, almost flirtatiously, a thread to pick up at a later date, when he’s back in his rightful place on the Finalizer, clean-shaven, and not dressed in tawdry rags.
But two days in captivity has made him forget that Ren is a stranger to the arts of flirtation and implication. He is a blunt weapon of the Dark Side of the Force, and he is used to getting what he wants. Ren’s upper lip curves in an elegant sneer.
“I’ve paid for you in blood,” Ren growls.
A warm flush crawls down Hux’s body as he thinks of Ren doing with a lightsaber and the Force what he could not with blasters, fists, and, in the end, teeth. Of the power it took to slaughter the Yinchorri now lying dead in the hall beyond them, and of how that power flows through Ren as his birthright.
And he notices that Ren’s hand on the chain is trembling ever so slightly. Hux smirks. He thinks he has the upper hand. Hux will disabuse him of this notion. The dashing knight and the grateful whore, was it?