“You're sealing your own fate,” Ren announces, when he's regained his breath. “The fall of your Empire. If you use me like this, you'll have courted and won your own ruin.”
“So my empire will have at least one conquest to its name.” Hux admires Ren in all his splendid fury; eyes shining, teeth bared, chest heaving; lovely, the way his high small breasts quiver with the plunging of his breath. Hux is hard beneath the robes that his two obedient girls drape and fasten over his shoulders, great obscuring swaths of brocaded fabric hemmed with fur and inset with more precious gems. He bears up under their great weight, as is expected of him, and when he enters the audience chamber it's as if he's stepped into a waking dream. The entirety of the First Order is in attendance, down to the lowliest foot soldier. There are courtiers, ambassadors, delegates and heads of state, minor rulers from all over the galaxy. Supreme Leader Snoke stands beside the banner-draped dais; there are flowers heaped around it. Ren's marriage bed, and what a wedding night this promises to be.
Every knee is bent and every head is bowed as Hux takes up his position before the dais; Ren is eased down onto it by his attendants, no longer struggling but glaring haughtily at the assemblage as if issuing a challenge, his eyes still gleaming fiercely in his painted face. He's almost noble in his outrage, like some warlike heroine in an ancient epic.
“Look at you.” Hux can't resist gloating, can't help but be pleased that every eye in the congregation is fixed on Ren and his finery; sure, Ren's name and image are known to most of those present, but none are exactly familiar with the sight of him naked and dripping with jewels. “Finally adorned as you deserve, aren't you? I always thought your manner of dress was somewhat dowdy, for a princess of Alderaan.”
“I was never a princess.”
“You're royalty now. Right hand of an Emperor.” Hux speaks lowly, his mouth at Ren's ear, which is pierced and hung heavy with chandelier cascades of many-faceted crystals that chime softly when he moves. The hall is otherwise silent, the spectators stilled with anticipation, Snoke watching Hux expectantly, and Hux grasps Ren's knees and coaxes his legs open to display him to his audience.
“Is this the vessel you've chosen?” Snoke begins the ritual, the traditional call-and-response, one hand resting on Ren's belly, fingers trailing downwards towards the soft swell of his mons pubis. One of the Storm Troopers standing close at hand produces a tiny vial of oil, which she breaks open and uses to anoint Hux's hands.
“This is the vessel I've chosen, which I now prepare to receive my seed.” Hux pushes his slick fingers into Ren; two at first, then three, stretching Ren as wide as he can without hurting him. There are gasps and murmurs from the crowd, mutterings of shock and disapproval, but Ren himself remains dutifully silent, legs held stiffly apart as Hux's fingers spread him.
“Name for the Imperial Court the woman you have chosen to sit at your right hand.”
“Kylo Ren.” More indistinct murmuring, some fierce snorts of indignation from Ren. “A daughter of Alderaan, with royal blood in her veins. The children of our union will be twice blessed.”
“Now enter your vessel, and empty your seed. May an heir be conceived, by the might of the Empire.” Hux is surprised to find that his hands are trembling as he draws aside his robes. He stands between Ren's wide-sprawled legs; Ren's eyes are closed, and he appears determined to ignore the ceremony and his own part in it, but he flinches when Hux's erect cock brushes against the soft skin of his inner thigh.
“Open your eyes, Ren.” Hux speaks to him sotto voce, receives no indication that he's heard. “They'll think you've fallen asleep.” He nudges the head of his cock between the parted lips of Ren's pussy, and several members of the audience cheer out loud. There are hoots and whistles and applause as Hux begins to fuck his consort, the precise patterns of blue and green paint on Ren's body smeared and marred by Hux's grasping hands.
Re: Emperor Hux/Kylo - Mpreg Ritual - FILL part 3/?
“So my empire will have at least one conquest to its name.” Hux admires Ren in all his splendid fury; eyes shining, teeth bared, chest heaving; lovely, the way his high small breasts quiver with the plunging of his breath. Hux is hard beneath the robes that his two obedient girls drape and fasten over his shoulders, great obscuring swaths of brocaded fabric hemmed with fur and inset with more precious gems. He bears up under their great weight, as is expected of him, and when he enters the audience chamber it's as if he's stepped into a waking dream. The entirety of the First Order is in attendance, down to the lowliest foot soldier. There are courtiers, ambassadors, delegates and heads of state, minor rulers from all over the galaxy. Supreme Leader Snoke stands beside the banner-draped dais; there are flowers heaped around it. Ren's marriage bed, and what a wedding night this promises to be.
Every knee is bent and every head is bowed as Hux takes up his position before the dais; Ren is eased down onto it by his attendants, no longer struggling but glaring haughtily at the assemblage as if issuing a challenge, his eyes still gleaming fiercely in his painted face. He's almost noble in his outrage, like some warlike heroine in an ancient epic.
“Look at you.” Hux can't resist gloating, can't help but be pleased that every eye in the congregation is fixed on Ren and his finery; sure, Ren's name and image are known to most of those present, but none are exactly familiar with the sight of him naked and dripping with jewels. “Finally adorned as you deserve, aren't you? I always thought your manner of dress was somewhat dowdy, for a princess of Alderaan.”
“I was never a princess.”
“You're royalty now. Right hand of an Emperor.” Hux speaks lowly, his mouth at Ren's ear, which is pierced and hung heavy with chandelier cascades of many-faceted crystals that chime softly when he moves. The hall is otherwise silent, the spectators stilled with anticipation, Snoke watching Hux expectantly, and Hux grasps Ren's knees and coaxes his legs open to display him to his audience.
“Is this the vessel you've chosen?” Snoke begins the ritual, the traditional call-and-response, one hand resting on Ren's belly, fingers trailing downwards towards the soft swell of his mons pubis. One of the Storm Troopers standing close at hand produces a tiny vial of oil, which she breaks open and uses to anoint Hux's hands.
“This is the vessel I've chosen, which I now prepare to receive my seed.” Hux pushes his slick fingers into Ren; two at first, then three, stretching Ren as wide as he can without hurting him. There are gasps and murmurs from the crowd, mutterings of shock and disapproval, but Ren himself remains dutifully silent, legs held stiffly apart as Hux's fingers spread him.
“Name for the Imperial Court the woman you have chosen to sit at your right hand.”
“Kylo Ren.” More indistinct murmuring, some fierce snorts of indignation from Ren. “A daughter of Alderaan, with royal blood in her veins. The children of our union will be twice blessed.”
“Now enter your vessel, and empty your seed. May an heir be conceived, by the might of the Empire.” Hux is surprised to find that his hands are trembling as he draws aside his robes. He stands between Ren's wide-sprawled legs; Ren's eyes are closed, and he appears determined to ignore the ceremony and his own part in it, but he flinches when Hux's erect cock brushes against the soft skin of his inner thigh.
“Open your eyes, Ren.” Hux speaks to him sotto voce, receives no indication that he's heard. “They'll think you've fallen asleep.” He nudges the head of his cock between the parted lips of Ren's pussy, and several members of the audience cheer out loud. There are hoots and whistles and applause as Hux begins to fuck his consort, the precise patterns of blue and green paint on Ren's body smeared and marred by Hux's grasping hands.