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“Millie! Get down!”
Millicent sits her rump on the sprawling arm of the large oak tree, craning her head in all directions. She surveys the ground with her even stare.
“Millicent!” Hux bellows.
She moves higher up, stumbling only slightly as she gains altitude.
Hux runs inside of his apartment. There has to be a way to get her down! He clamors into the cabinet where he keeps a large stock of canned cat food. None of these are Millicent’s favorite but this will have to do for the time being.
Conking his shoulder on his swinging front door, Hux rips the can open and presents it to Millicent.
“Millie! Dinner time!” Grimacing, Hux sticks his little finger in the gooey can to stir it up, releasing the stench of the food in hopes it will entice her.
But Millicent hugs the tree, harder, desperate to not fall under the might of the coming gust. “Millie! Don’t move! Stay where you are!” It's clear to Hux now that she won't be able to get down without some assistance.
He sets the food down and wipes his finger on the grass. Pulling out his smartphone, he types in “What to do if your cat is stuck in a tree.”
Option one: get a ladder and get the cat yourself. Just what he needs, to test out how much his office’s health insurance truly covers.
Option two: Call a tree cutting service and ask to borrow one of the tree cutters. Why the fuck would a tree cutter be willing to help rescue his cat? The website pointedly says that firefighters only help if the animal is trapped in a fire.
Option three: Call animal control if you just can't deal with it by yourself.
Weighing his options, he flips through his phone and calls the one and only tree cutting service in the area. Voicemail. They're closed on Sundays, and today's of course Sunday.
Damn. He calls animal control, and after several aching minutes of going through the automated menu, Hux finally gets to speak with a real operator, and her patience is somehow thinner than his.
“And you don't have a ladder?”
Ridiculous. It's normal to be afraid of heights. “Afraid not. Now, is there any way to get someone to help? A professional someone?”
“Can you borrow one from your neighbor?”
“What?”
“The ladder, can you borrow it from someone?”
Hux claws at his hair. “Out of the question.” Another gust of wind rocks the branches above and he hears Millicent’s soft mewl of terror. “Listen, tell whoever you have to that I'm missing my fucking leg or whatever, so I am physically incapable of using a ladder. Just get me someone here. Now!” Millicent doesn't have much time! She'll never walk away from a fall this high.
After arguing with the dispassionate dispatcher for a little while longer, Hux hangs up, frothing with rage and worry.
Almost ten minutes later the small street of his apartment complex is bombarded with the enormity of a bright red fire truck. It’s not like the large ones that he normally sees speeding down the highway but it’s significantly larger than anything in his complex. Hux straightens, observing the truck back into the small lot with painstaking slowness.
The truck parks itself right in the middle of the lot, restricting any and all cars in the lot from leaving or coming in. Out steps the firefighter, a tall, broad man with distinguished features, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Are you Hux?” the firefighter asks, gruff and irritated. This ought to be good.
“Yes,” Hux replies stiffly, scrubbing any remaining cat food onto the back of his shirt and holding out his hand to shake.
“I thought you had a missing leg,” the firefighter deadpans.
Unable to face his lie, Hux bats his lashes. “I don’t know where you got that idea.”
But the man doesn’t follow through with the handshake, leaving him hanging. “Where’s the cat?”
There’s only one tree on the entire block and Hux points to it. “Almost to the top, because you took your sweet time,” he grumbles, all manners dissipating. He attributes his rudeness because the firefighter, his attitude telling Hux that he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Millicent pokes her head around so that her face is visible. It takes another ten minutes for the firefighter to align his ladder accordingly. The ladder is adjusting itself closer to her and Millicent disagrees with the mechanical drone of it, clawing farther out onto the branch.
The firefighter steps outside his truck, clipping on a harness over his jacket. He keeps in shape from the look of it, his shoulders and arms filled with muscle. Hux forces himself to stop checking out the disgruntled firefighter, who probably thinks rescuing Millicent is the worst part of his day.
Hux bends down to get the can of food then shoves it at the firefighter. “This might help. She doesn’t like strangers if they don’t have any food.”
The firefighter gives him an amused look. “I need both my hands for this.”
Flushing with humiliation, Hux sets the food back down. “Well, go on. You’re the professional.”
The firefighter hooks himself up to his ladder. Hux is the only member if his audience, wearily watching the man climb the series of rungs. Looks like he has a full workout routine, his bottom half just as toned as the top.
From his perspective on the ground, Hux sees the firefighter move to the top of the ladder, arms outstretched. It takes some convincing but Millicent obliges to the contact, up until the point where the firefighter grabs her by the skin of her neck.
“She doesn’t like that!” Hux shouts, fearing how this’ll end.
As if he hadn’t heard, the firefighter wrenches Millicent off the branch, but her claws sink into the bark and prevents him from moving her. Grunting with effort, the firefighter anchors his hand around her body, lifting her as best he can. Thankfully, she yields to his maneuvering.
With one hand on the ladder and one hand on the cat, the firefighter slowly slides down the ladder. All is well until about halfway down the ladder another particularly strong gust irritates Millicent and she mewls, clawing onto the firefighter’s side. The firefighter grunts as Millicent claws at his face, using him as leverage to leap into the air. Hux can only gape in horror as Millicent skitters to the ground.
“Millie!” he wails, running over to where she landed. She rolls onto her back, exposing her belly. Hux frantically investigates all her appendages, grateful to find them unbroken. He pulls Millicent into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief into her fur.
He doesn’t see the firefighter approach until it’s too late. “You should get that thing declawed,” the firefighter tells him, the scrape on his face a thin slash on his cheekbone
The hell he will. “You shouldn’t have tried to pull out her fur,” Hux argues.
“If she ever runs back up that tree again it’s because of her claws. Next time she might not be as lucky,” he threatens, turning away swiftly.
Flushing with indignation, Hux cradles Millicent closer, watching the firefighter’s retreat. He heads inside to let her regain her composure.
Almost a week later, Hux’s irrational guilt overcomes him. The firefighter was just doing his job and he should have been more grateful for his servitude, to both him and to this city. Hux didn’t even thank him.
And his building isn’t smoke free so if there is the chance that the firefighter passed along to all his hero friends that the guy in block 104 of Stoney Falls Apartments is a total douche, he doesn’t want to be a victim of circumstance and his own stubbornness if he ever needs rescuing.
He pulls up to the fire station in his compact car, heart thudding in his ribcage. He puts the car in park and turns off the engine.
This was a stupid idea.
Moving to restart the ignition, Hux stops himself when he sees that same firefighter, only he’s in those yellow flame retardant pants and suspenders like the kind he’d seen on TV, boots, and nothing else.
What the hell. Hux follows the line of the shirtless firefighter into the garage of the station. He checks his hair in the mirror, wishing he put some gel in it this morning. With one pet to each of his eyebrows to make sure the brow hairs aren’t sticking out at odd angles, Hux paces evenly to the main door.
It only then occurs to him that he has no idea what the guy’s name is.
“Is there something I can help you with?” the girl by the main desk repeats herself patiently. She isn’t a receptionist by the look of her unique musculature and her firefighter uniform, similar to the other, significantly more broody firefighter.
“Um. I’m looking for someone who works here? He helped me the other day and I forgot to thank him.” This was a stupid, stupid idea.
“Do you remember his name?” she asks.
“Well, no. But he’s about as tall as me, longish black hair. Really mad looking.”
The girl breaks out into a grin. “You’re the one who scratched him! The ginger!”
“What? No, that was my cat. Who’s also ginger, I guess,” he adds idiotically. He needs to turn tail and run before the entirety of his pride dissolves.
“That was my cousin, Ben. I’ll call him over for you,” she giggles, paging this Ben over an intercom. “Benjamin,” she drops her voice an octave in mock seriousness. “You have a visitor.”
Oh, wonderful. A family of firefighters. “If you wouldn’t mind,” Hux mutters. All he has to do is thank him and move on with his life.
“What is it, Rey?” grumbles Ben not even a minute later. He stops in his tracks when he sees Hux.
Hux’s throat bobs. Ben’s suspenders hang off his waist, leaving his chest completely bare. His sculpted pecs and stomach are dotted with tiny beauty marks and a light dusting of hair by his navel. Instead of a ponytail like the last time Hux saw him, Ben’s dark halo of hair hangs around his face.
Forcing his hands to remain unclenched Hux straightens his shoulders. “I never got to thank you for your help the other day,” he says evenly to Ben’s glower, eager to be the better man. “So. Thank you.”
Rey nods, sturgeon-facing to her cousin in wait of his response.
When Ben says nothing, his face as blank as humanly possible, Hux continues his painful confession. “And sorry about the scratch.”
Ben clears his throat. “Yeah, well…all part of the job.”
Hux nods, unsure of what else to say. He wants to ask why he must be shirtless but also doesn’t want Ben to think he noticed.
“How’s Molly?” Ben asks, brutal demeanor melted away.
“It’s Millie, short for Millicent. She’s good. Haven’t let her outside since,” Hux grins.
“Might want to consider declawing incase Maleficent decides to try kickoff her base-jumping career again,” Ben advises flicking his eyes to his cousin, who’s biting her tongue in secondhand embarrassment for the entire conversation.
The deliberate disrespect of Millicent’s name nearly sets Hux off, but he grips tightly to whatever’s left of his dignity. He’s said his piece. “I’ll consider it.”
He gets one last eyeful of Ben’s chest before slinking out, leaving the two firefighters to gossip about him in his absence.
That night, Millicent joins him on his bed at her usual spot, asleep within an instant. Safe and sound.
Until the next morning when he lets her join him for his morning coffee on his small porch when Millicent spots a sparrow. She waits for Hux to be in mid-gulp of his first sip—the part of his morning coffee routine in which he’s most vulnerable—to lunge through the bars onto the grass outside and chase the thing down the grass and up that damned tree again.
“Millicent! Why?!” he pleads. He will cut that damned tree down himself.
Seething, Hux stabs at his phone to call the fire station. Someone answers on the fourth ring. Levelly, Hux explains his situation.
“Sir, have you contacted animal control? Do you need their number?” says the voice on the other line.
“But one of your firefighters was able to help the last time this happened.”
A pause. “Really? Who?”
“Ben! The one with the British cousin.”
There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line. “Hey, it’s Rey. Did Maleficent get caught in the tree again?” Hux can near her smile through the phone.
Hux sighs. They’re just trying to help. “Yes. I’ve tried everything.”
“I’ll send Ben.”
He can’t deal with that man again. “Wait, wait. Don’t—”
But Rey’s hung up. Dammit.
Hux waits outside for the truck, for Ben, shoulders hanging heavy with the acceptance of his fate. It takes almost twenty minutes for Ben to come from the station this time. The truck backs in tediously slow but Hux doesn’t move from his lean at the base of the tree.
Wordless, not acknowledging Hux at all, Ben adjusts the ladder to the necessary height. His hair’s pulled back into a ponytail. Ben ascends to go through with the rescue, his harness strapped securely to a tee-shirt beneath his jacket.
Hux watches on from below as Ben urges her towards him. “Molly! Molly! C’mere girl!” he says, sing-song voice a poor mimicry of Hux’s accent.
He can’t believe the nerve this man has, his lack of manners and consideration. He can doesn’t bother containing his smirk at Millicent’s irritability towards Ben once in his arm. Small favors.
But he actually jumps at Ben’s scream that rips through the air when Millicent spazzes. Just like the first time she springs through the air only the jump isn’t as dangerous seeing that they’re on the final rungs of the ladder. Millicent lands on her feet, meows, and runs back through the railing of Hux’s porch into the safety of his apartment.
Hux whips his hand over his mouth when Ben walks up to him, his face marred with four parallel lines of red across his forehead, eyebrow, and temple. “Shit!” he chuckles, unable to help himself.
“Declaw that thing. I mean it,” Ben growls, turning back to his truck
This isn’t fair to Ben. He’s just doing his job. Which should be saving toddlers from wells and women from burning buildings, not chasing after Hux’s cat. Resolve breaking, Hux chases after him.
“Wait, Ben. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”
The firefighter only replies with a silent glower over his shoulder.
“Can I tip you?” Hux blurts, immediately regretting doing so.
Ben’s brow pinches. “This isn’t Triple A.”
Is Ben going to make this difficult? “I know, I just…” He’s really gonna do this. “How about some coffee? I need to make a fresh pot, anyway.”
The proposal hangs in the air, unable to be reneged. Hux’s heart beats into his throat.
“Let me move my truck.”
Hux nods, cheeks buzzing. He just invited Ben into his apartment. And Ben accepted.
Breathing through his nose to calm his uncontrollable anxiety, Hux helplessly watches Ben walk over from his makeshift parking spot. It's across the street on a no-parking zone but who is gonna tow a fire truck? Aren't those no parking zones fire lanes anyway?
“I could use another cup of coffee,” Ben smiles as though attempting to soothe Hux, but that only worsens his nerves. “You got any neosporin?” he points to the marks on his face.
“I might.” Hux is glad the truce is beginning to form. Though he can't imagine that a fire truck isn't equipped with a medical kit, he doesn't voice his concern incase his suspicions are correct. He can be helpful to the dutiful fireman.
Hux’s place is on the first level so they don’t have to trek very far. Closing the door behind him Hux ushers Ben to the table. “Which is first? The scratches or the coffee?”
“Scratches, definitely.”
Hux makes for his bathroom and finds cotton swabs and a small tube of neosporin. He saturates a paper towel with water and without prompting Hux begins the procedure, dabbing the towel on Ben’s forehead.
Ben pulls back, narrowing his eyes in confusion.
“Oh, bathroom’s over there if you want to take care of it,” Hux flushes beet-red. Surely a man of his standing can apply rudimentary first aid on himself without the eager hands of some random civilian, his nuisance.
Ever the complicated one, Ben smirks. “Why would I when I have a perfectly good nurse here to help me?” he says, not unkindly.
If it were possible to blush even harder, Hux does so, holding his breath to dab the cuts. Squeezing out some of the medicine on the swab, Hux carefully applies it to Ben’s face.
“How’s it feel?” Hux asks, discarding the used paper towel and cotton swabs.
Ben leans back in the chair. “Better. Thanks,” he smirks.
“Good,” Hux breathes. He turns to the nearby kitchen to start another pot of coffee, begging his fingers to not malfunction on all the tabs and buttons.
He dares a look back at Ben, who’s tapping at something on his phone. “Sugar or cream?”
“Just cream,” Ben tells him without looking up.
The coffee is poured into twin mugs. Hux takes his with both sugar and cream and is comforted Ben doesn’t take his black, as if coffee variations are somehow indicative of masculinity.
“So I’m sure you hear this all the time,” Hux attempts small talk when he passes Ben his cup. “What made you want to become a firefighter?”
Ben smirks again, an attractive change to his usual glum. “I only ever get that question from women,” he drawls, sipping at the coffee.
He’s never blushed this much in his entire life. Hux scowls into his cup.
“I reached a point in my life where I had to choose which side of the law I wanted to be on. The way I saw it, I wasn’t gonna change myself without giving back to the community in some way. And it’s not like you could be a police officer with a criminal record,” Ben says, completely shameless in his confession. “I just, kind of, fell into it. And it helped that my cousin was already on the squad.”
Criminal record. Lovely. “That’s admirable.”
“What do you do?” Ben asks innocently, turning the tables.
“Oh, I work at a software design company. It’s dreadfully boring,” Hux says so Ben doesn’t have to.
Ben nods, making that same sturgeon frown his cousin made back at the station. “So, you’re like, from England?”
“Left years ago as a boy.” Hux gulps down some more of his sweetened coffee. He put too much sugar but he doesn’t want to dump it out even though this is his own apartment.
“So is Rey.”
Hux snorts. “I could tell. What part?”
Exhaling dramatically, Ben pauses deep in thought. He shakes his head. “I forgot. Don’t tell her I forgot, though.”
Why would he? And how? “My lips are sealed,” he says instead.
Ben leans forward, elbows on thighs. “You miss it?”
“Occasionally.” He doesn’t know if Ben’s looking to get some reaction out of him.
Breaking the tension Millicent pads into the room, coming up to Hux’s leg to mark her scent.
Ben makes a meowing noise that makes Hux wrinkle his nose. Millicent seems to agree with him, scampering off to her corner of the living room.
“I really appreciate your patience with her. She never used to do this. I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Hux tells him, topping off his coffee. Ben has yet to finish his and Hux isn’t sure it’s because he doesn’t like the brew or because he’s stalling, though Hux doesn’t know why he would. Maybe it’s the same reason why he opted to use Hux’s medical supplies instead of his own, why Ben’s looking at him like Hux had spiked his coffee, and why he agreed on the coffee in the first place.
“You got anywhere to be in the next, oh…twenty—no, thirty minutes?” Ben asks him, eyes glinting lecherously.
Hux narrows his eyes. “No?”
His confusion knows no end when Ben stands, walking slowly to the direction of his front door. He stands to usher Ben out, flustered at the unpredictability of the last few moments shared with him.
Somehow this was all a part of Ben’s plan. He looks down through his lashes, sizing Hux up from his leather sneakers to his jeans to his button-up doing little to hide his bony frame. Predatory, cocksure, Ben slides forward, looming into Hux’s personal space.
“What are you doing?” Hux breathes, backing into the wall.
“What’s it look like,” murmurs Ben, putting one hand on the wall behind Hux’s head.
This isn’t like him at all. He doesn’t go around inviting tall, dark, and ugly-hot firemen in for coffee and sex. Certainly not men with criminal records or frequent mood swings, or men he’s only had one full conversation with.
But none of this seems to affect his judgement when he leans forward for their lips to meet. The bubble of fear bursts when Ben leans into the kiss, his low groan a satisfying rumble passed on from his throat to Hux’s lips.
It feels amazing to be kissed against the wall by a bigger, stronger man that him, the buckles of Ben’s harness digging into his ribs a heated reminder of the position he’s in. Ben’s using tongue now, delving past Hux’s deeper than anyone’s been in ages.
The kisses move to his throat and neck and Hux holds on, tugging at the straps around Ben’s shoulders. Along for the ride until his drowned reasoning resurfaces. “Why do you have a criminal record?” he asks huskily.
Ben laughs, licking at where jaw meets ear. “Burglary,” he sucks at the overstimulated skin there, “and arson.” Hux can feel the smile against his neck.
Arson. He’s got to be joking. That’s not the worst pair of crimes, he supposes. No criminal record at all would be ideal but that’s too much to ask from a man like Ben.
“Top or bottom?” Ben rumbles in his ear.
“Either,” he shivers, in utter disbelief of his actions but won’t dare stop any of this from transpiring. “You?”
Ben snorts. “Funny.” He punctuates himself with a deliberate thrust against Hux’s growing hardness.
“What if I said I only topped?”
“Then I wouldn’t have believed you,” Ben replies, overconfident. He pulls back to look Hux in his eyes. “Your book collection and lack of video game console screams needy bottom. And the matching dishware.”
Damn, he’s got a point. “You’re incredibly arrogant,” Hux scoffs, knees melting.
Ben pulls back to meet connect his heady gaze with his. “You like it.”
“I haven’t formed an opinion yet,” he counters. “Come on.” Hux leads him with a grip on his harness to the space of his bedroom. First things first, Hux prepares by closing the door so Millicent won’t try and disturb them, and then rifles through his dresser drawer for supplies. He checks the expiration on the condoms as if they were cartons of milk.
Ben disrupts him with an icy palm up his shirt from behind. “Everything in order?” he murmurs into Hux’s ear. Ben has a thing for ears and Hux doesn’t mind in the least.
“Seems to be,” Hux sighs, swiveling in the steely trap of Ben’s arms for more kisses. Ben gets right to it, pulling Hux’s thin shirt out from under his arms and exposing his bare chest. He’s significantly less defined than Ben but that doesn’t affect how much Ben enjoys touching and kissing and teasing all this new skin.
When Hux tugs off his jacket Ben frowns, remembering. “Fuck, gimme a second. Forgot about this thing. I wear it so much I’m so used to it,” he mutters, tugging at the clasps of the harness.
“Could you possibly,” Hux swallows, stilling Ben’s hands with one of his own, “leave it on? Would that be too uncomfortable?”
Face splitting into a lewd grin, Ben snatches the bottle of lube and the condom from Hux’s fingers. “You’re already the most fun I’ve had in a damn long time. Take off your pants. Get on the bed.”
So apparently their minds are equally as dirty, and as an added bonus Ben likes to bark orders. Hux isn’t used to being told what to. “Careful,” he threatens, “we might not get very far with that cocky attitude of yours.”
Ben sets the supplies on the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna do, scold me?” he smirks, helping Hux with his jeans. With haste he sheds Hux of all his clothing, finally getting an eyeful of just how extensive his paleness runs. “Weep-whoop,” Ben chuckles, unzipping his fly. “Better get my hose out. We’ve got a firecrotch.”
Hux flops down on his bed, gouging his palms into his eye sockets. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he lies, unable to hold back his amused grin. “Alright, get it out of your system.”
“That was it. I’ve been thinking about that joke for like, three days.” Three days? So the seduction was premeditated. That would account for the shift in attitude.
“Satisfied?”
“Not even a little,” Ben murmurs, looming over him on all fours between Hux’s knees. He bends down for another delve into Hux’s throat, groaning when Hux slides off the hair tie, securing the tie around his own wrist for safekeeping.
Ben’s dark hair tickles his cheeks and jaw, tantalizing his skin with the frayed tips. The hot suction moves lower to his chest to tease one chosen nipple. His nipples have never been particularly sensitive but the soft brush of hair enhances the feeling. Hux moans low in his throat.
A cool palm kneads down his side to his hardness and Ben gives him several languid strokes, nothing too ambitious without any lube. Eager and able Ben kisses low until Hux’s eyes boggle from the tight heat engulfing him. He cranes his head to take in the view. Finding those two dark eyes already on him, Hux’s hips buckle on reflex.
Ben’s taught lips pull off to the tip, punctuating with several licks. With an impossibly strong arm Ben pins one of Hux’s thighs flat to his chest as if Hux is a human pretzel. “Can I eat you out?”
“I showered this morning. So only if you want to,” Hux whimpers in disbelief, wondering exactly what he did to deserve this man between his legs. He hides his face in his elbow, a reflexive action he pulls when someone is doing exactly what Ben is doing, laving over and probing him deep with only his tongue.
Whimpering madly, Hux claws a hand in Ben’s hair, encouraging him along this filthy, depraved act he’ll never be able to get enough of. Ben pulls away leaving Hux exposed and sloppy. In that moment Hux is brutally reminded of their differences in nudity and the thought alone makes him harder.
Ben pools some lube on two of his fingers. “When’s the last time you were fucked?”
Crass, but Hux expects this by now. “Oh, just yesterday. Had the fire marshal in here. Your station gets all types, it seems,” Hux jokes.
“We can’t joke about the fire marshal. Ever,” Ben grimaces.
Hux raises his brow.
“The fire marshal’s my dad.”
“Oh, god.” That backfired.
Ben overcomes the brief distraction, beginning to finger Hux with all the deftness his careful hands are capable of. “If it’s too much—”
“It won’t be, trust me,” Hux wriggles his toes, getting lost on the sensation. He adds another finger, pulling them in and out until the tension around his fingers dissipates. But there’s only so much prep that can be done so with one last hooking from inside—sending sparks up Hux’s spine—Ben withdraws.
“No shame in eating your words once you get an idea of what you’re in for,” Ben smirks cockily. “I’ve been known to scare people away.”
Hux sits up on his elbows, crinkling his forehead. “You just gonna talk about it or are we gonna do this?”
As if it were some dramatic ceremony, Ben tugs down the rest of his zipper, fighting against the confines of the harness. It’s a success when Ben’s erection springs free, bobbing theatrically out from the flap of his work pants. Fortunately the teeth of the zipper are barred by a thick layer of cloth, one that prevents heat transfer but in this case from prevents his dick from getting scraped. He rolls the on condom between his fingers.
Damn, Ben was right. His prick is not only the biggest in the room—second only to the man it’s attached to—but it’s the biggest Hux will likely ever take. His mouth waters at the thought of it. “Good lord. How do you get anything done?”
“I manage,” Ben preens from the praise. “Ready?”
“I’ve been ready.” Since the moment he first saw him heroic on his ladder.
Satisfied, Ben lines himself up. His face in scrunched in an effort to not immediately blow his load but while Hux’s face totes a similar expression it has everything to do with the enormity of Ben and the painstakingly slow pace he sinks inside.
Ben doubles forward, bracing his hands on either side of him, knees anchored into the mattress. “Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m—fuck,” he groans, his sweaty forehead cementing itself to Hux’s trembling chest, the scratches splitting his skin a forgotten memory. “Please tell me I can move,” Ben begs.
“Move,” Hux pants after an aching moment.
Sitting back on his haunches Ben grips the undersides of Hux’s knees. Hux blinks up at him, bringing his hands to the straps across Ben’s chest. He begins thrusting, pulling back and sinking forward without breaking eye contact.
The straps of the harness enhance stretch Ben’s shirt over his torso, enhancing every curve, every plain of definition. Hux manages to hold back the praise he is mouth is begging to sing to him. He's learned Ben gets even cockier if he's not careful with his compliments.
Ben doesn’t hold back, fucking into him without any hindrance, a symptom of his active lifestyle. Hux tugs on the harness, entire body wracking with the hard, uninhibited thrusts. He rarely allows himself to moan audibly but with Ben he can’t hold back. Ben’s thrusts are dexterous. He knows how to fuck and Hux is set on discovering just how well he can do so.
At a particularly hard thrust to that sensitive spot deep within, Hux shouts, throwing his head back into the mattress. Ben strikes it again and Hux pulls him down to claw at his head of hair.
“You close?” Hux whines into Ben’s ear.
“Fuck!” Ben spasms, trembling with his release.
Hux claws at Ben’s shoulders, holding him through his spasms. Ben thrusts in deep making his legs bend painfully but Hux is too lost in the sensation of Ben trembling inside him and above him to care. His arm snaking between them Ben’s large fist dwarfs Hux’s flushed, waiting cock. With a few aching tugs Hux yelps into Ben’s shoulder, coming messily on his own stomach and Ben’s hand.
Ben pulls out, slow, and Hux doesn't miss how he watches his cock slide out of him, mesmerized. “Can I use your bathroom?” Ben asks through heaving breaths.
When Ben let's go of Hux’s ankles, his spread legs dangling in the air to land on his feet, Hux nods. “‘s right over there,” he croaks, lolling his head in the direction of the door next to his closet.
“Thanks.”
Hux rolls on his side. He has little inclination to move, his ass aching with every twist of his hips. He hasn't felt this good in years.
The noises of Ben using the sink and gargling his mouthwash attract all of Hux’s attention, even the trickle of his urinating and the lack of flush. Gross, but good for the environment, he supposes. He should be grateful a man like Ben washes his hands.
Ben emerges and Hux lies just where he left him. The warmth of a wet, heated paper towel greets the mess on Hux’s stomach. “You busy this Friday?”
Hux’s heart stutters, unable to keep the thrill from blossoming on his face. “After four thirty, I'm free.”
Nodding, Ben fingers the elastic hair tie on Hux’s wrist and Hux narrows his thumb against his palm so Ben can slip it off.
“Do you have a suitcase?” Ben pulls his hair back into its tie.
Hux raises an eyebrow. “If you do plan on murdering me, my suitcase might fit Millicent but definitely not me.”
Ben smiles and sits on the mattress next to him. He brings a hand through Hux’s hair, feeling the scalp between the roots with his fingertips. “You ever been to Australia?”
Like he said. Unpredictability. “Ben.”
“So, is that a no?”
“I can’t go to Australia.”
“Why not?” Ben asks, lying on his side facing Hux’s incredulous glare.
“I have a job. And I barely know you.” He was mostly joking about the murder-suitcase thing.
“I barely know you,” Ben counters, thinking he’s clever. “And you can find a new job. You hate it there, anyway.”
“I never said I hated it. What about Millicent?” Hux pouts, as if actually considering it.
“It’s not like I’m asking you to run away with me. I can get Rey to check in on her. She loves cats. We’ll be back in a few weeks.”
Ben must have an answer or a solution for everything. He leans down to kiss him, tasting like spearmint and smelling like soap. “Promise me you’ll consider it,” Ben murmurs.
He leaves with a parting grin. Hux scrubs a hand over his face wondering what the hell just happened.
Ben let himself out while Hux was in the bathroom wiping down his face and neck. He pads into the kitchen, finding his phone not where he’d last set it down.
Hux smiles. Ben put his number in and sent a text to himself from Hux’s phone. He truly does have a solution for everything.
Later than night, Ben’s the first to text. You get a chance to think about it?
He did, a lot, and he’s terrified of the answer he settled on. I did. And I’ll go with you on one condition.
Ben’s reply is immediate. So that’s a yes?
Tell me you aren’t just doing this because you’re bored, Hux stamps out with his thumbs, throat bobbing as he hits send. He refuses to get hurt because of one man’s eccentricity.
He’s grateful Ben’s taking some time to consider his reply. I invited you because I like you and I want to go somewhere I’ve never been with you.
You barely know me. I could collect beanie babies or have an annoying hatred for your favorite foods. Hux taps send.
Give me a chance to know you, Ben replies. The beanie baby thing would be weirdly hot tho, he adds. Hux snorts, unable to help himself from being charmed.
Millicent walks in his bedroom and Hux scoots out of her usual spot. You sure Rey doesn’t have a problem watching Millicent?
I asked her and she’s just glad I’m actually doing something. Ben is more of an enigma then he lets on.
Hux sets his phone down, letting Ben do the guessing for once.
He manages to wait until the next morning to call his employer that he’ll be taking a sabbatical. He rolls over to squish his face in Millicent’s soft belly and she mewls in sympathy for what mystery his future holds.