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Rose let out something between a violent exhale and a sob, her hands clutched in Hux’s hair as if life itself depended on it – he currently had his lips wrapped tightly, contentedly around one hardened nipple, his teeth working at it gently, threateningly. Their nights spent together had grown more frequent and varied in mood; sometimes what they both needed was rough and wordless. She really liked the times, however, where things were gentle, slow, and filled with words of want and encouragement. Although, with the latter, he was quick to dress himself and vacate, where the rougher encounters left him spent and comfortable enough to stay with her.
Sometimes, he even let her shelter in the circle of his skinny arms when he stayed, though he was always quick to retrieve his clothes and leave in the early morning, before the sun rose, never accepting her polite offer of caf before he went.
‘Maybe tomorrow morning’, she thought to herself, as she always did. ‘ But for now . . .’
“I could spent all night here,” he gasped, tearing his attentions away from her tortured, hardened nub to give her a lascivious, lazy grin.
“I could let you,” she panted, fingers tangled in his hair, softly but urgently tugging him back down.
“D’you mean that, Sweetling?” he asked, eyes fixed unflinchingly onto hers as he cupped the other breast in his hand.
She nodded fervently, unable to resist the smile tugging at her lips. “I’d bet money you could make me come doing just that.”
“A worthy challenge,” he purred, no longer afraid to flash her that winsome smile.
“Where were you ten years ago?” she laughed, gasping again as she felt his mouth at her breast.
He laughed against her, his breath hot and playful. “I was but a green lieutenant, dear. Conquering planets the same as I conquer your body most nights.”
“Fuck you,” she giggled, with no small amount of mordancy, tugging him down against her, longing for the sensation of his tongue against her skin.
“That’s the idea, Darling.”
Darling. Sweetling. Little terms of endearment that slipped out in the short windows of time when his guard was down, when he was thoroughly distracted by carnal pleasures. It was impressive and somewhat unsettling how he could switch off that part of him and resume addressing her sardonically as ‘Commander’, or just ‘Tico’ when they were on duty, whether they were alone or not. He was remarkably adaptive, considering his history.
It should have made her uneasy.
But the things she had caught him doing when he thought she was asleep put her at ease, and he would have panicked if he knew that she knew. Pulling the covers just a little tighter around her, quickly dipping down to inhale the scent of her hair. A person with ill intent doesn’t do things like that.
“Who knew your mouth was useful for so much more besides stupid speeches and taunting,” she sighed, running her fingers through his hair.
It sent pleasant tingles down his spine; not so long ago, he would have taken her by the wrist and put a stop to it. Now he only hummed in pleasure, the low purr in his chest encouraging her to do it again. And again. And again.
He could end this encounter much sooner, could go lower and pleasure her quickly and satisfactorily enough with his mouth or fingers or cock, or some combination, and leave for his own quarters. But he had never been one to back down from a challenge. It took nearly an hour more, but maybe it had not helped that he kept stopping to adorn her in deep, filthy kisses – her small mouth all but begged to be kissed, even when she couldn’t form words. The incoherent moans and sighs of relief when he accomplished his goal, however, were enough.
And once she had recovered from her own pleasure, that small mouth had not left him wanting.
“Healthy appetite you got there this morning, buddy,” Poe commented in the mess hall the following day.
Hux shrugged in response. “You people work me half to death.”
He missed the meaningful look General Dameron had shot to Finn and Beaumont. The former General had certainly not eaten like that when he first arrived.
“Really?” asked Poe, one eyebrow raised curiously. “Good thing I assigned you to Rose, then. She’s one of our nicer ones. Never struck me as the kind to ride you too hard.”
Beaumont nearly choked on his caf.
Hux glanced at him pointedly, nose wrinkled in disapproval. “And Kin never struck me as the kind to have a filthy mind; he clearly possesses one. You people are full of nasty surprises.”
“Nasty, huh?” Finn smirked.
Hux gave them the middle finger as he left the table, taking his plate with him.
Kissing Hux was akin to taking that hearty swig of an alcoholic drink even when you knew you were already far too intoxicated; it simply beckoned you, and obeying that reckless urge was the sweetest of rewards, even if you might have a headache in the morning. And yet unlike liquor, Rose felt as if her mind grew clearer with every hour spent in his company, although she certainly thought she’d die before admitting that to him. It was nothing more than a fling that would surely crumble or end up with her piecing a foolish heart back together once it had run its course. But like he had said during that first encounter, after all they had both been through, didn’t they deserve this?
‘Hell yes, we do,’ she thought to herself as she kissed him yet again, leaping into his arms and wrapping herself around him in a way that had become all too routine but no less exciting for it.
He hugged her tightly, relishing for a moment the feeling of being in the grasp of her limbs, letting her mouth dominate his own, that new, rebellious side of him reminding him how much he did not deserve this.
‘She’s a good person and you’re . . . well you’re you,’ it said matter-of-factly.
It was easy to get irritated and even hurt by his own inner dialogue, and he often coped with it by pushing it aside with what stubbornly remained of the man he had been for so long, the man he would always be, in some way or another, really. ‘She may be a ‘good person’, but she’ll still always be . . .’
“Rebel scum,” he sneered aloud when she had pulled away to take a breath.
“Yes, I am,” she smiled haughtily, pulling his hair so that his head was tilted back, running her finger lightly down his pale, exposed throat. “And we both know you like it.”
And so it was with gusto that Rose accepted his greedy mouth yet again, for the first time now, two nights in a row. This was getting out of hand, and yet she never refused to open the door for him, or declined an invitation to his humble quarters.
“Were your rooms in the First Order nicer?” she asked one night, having followed him ‘home’, as he poured a few fingers of whiskey to share between them.
“Bigger,” he shrugged, handing her the glass. “But I never had time to really enjoy them. I was either forcing down bile as I groveled to Ren, or leaking information to you. And before that, I was happily married to my position as General of the First Order, right hand to Supreme Leader Snoke himself. Didn’t allow for much free time. I do miss my couch, though. . .”
His eyes rested on her in scrutiny as she took in his words, wincing at the burn of the whiskey trickling down her throat.
“This must be strange for you,” she said, that hint of annoying sympathy ever-present in her voice, as she handed the glass back to him.
He nodded, throwing the remnants of whiskey back in one go. “Strange, yes. Unpleasant, no.” He set the glass on his nightstand and shoved her onto his bed, lacing their fingers together and pinning her down against the mattress.
She laughed absurdly at the sudden onslaught; this was strange for her, too, and yet neither of them did anything to remedy the peculiarity.
“You didn’t finish your drink,” he whispered tauntingly. “Naughty.”
“It’s a little strong,” she said almost apologetically, crinkling her nose just a bit.
“Like you.”
He felt a wave of horror rock through him – the words had just slipped out unbidden, and not unnoticed.
“What’s that now?” Rose asked, eyes trained keenly onto his, her expression infuriatingly passive.
“Nothing.”
Her lips turned up the slightest amount, her gaze burning into his. The same intensity had been in her eyes aboard the Supremacy – the fact that it no longer burned with loathing made it no less potent. She had known then that his confidence hung by a thread, and she knew just as well now that he was as if caught in some sort of web that he was perfectly capable of escaping, but unwilling to do so. She would always call his bluff.
Absurdly, Brendol crossed his mind at that moment; what would his father think of him now, bedding down with a rebel officer like a starving dog gobbling up scraps. A cur, Snoke had always called him, had never kept the moniker a secret. He had refused to be Ren’s cur, choosing the path of yet another stinging term of endearment from his past. The pinched little fox who brought down an empire by treason. Whatever he had been before, he was quickly becoming Rose Tico’s lapdog, growing ever more addicted and dependent on the meals of kindness she so freely offered him.
“’Nothing’”, she grinned. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” he purred, dipping down to kiss her, wasting no time in forcing his tongue between her lips and enthusiastically exploring her mouth. “And what I say goes.”
“That’s what you think,” she panted, pulling away. “Again, I’m your commanding officer. I still have that uniform I stole from your stupid ship, you know.”
“Do you really?” he smirked, pulling back and looking at her with genuine interest.
“Really,” she answered confidently, running her fingers through his hair. “Want me to put it on?”
“Right now?” he asked, not even bothering to fight the stupid grin on his lips. “Absolutely.”
“Okay,” she replied, all smiles. “Hux,” she laughed, struggling under his weight. “You have to get off of me first, though.”
“Fine,” he replied, reluctantly releasing her from his clutches. “But that’s not the only ‘getting off’ I plan on doing tonight, I’ll have you know.”
“Spoiled brat,” she replied haughtily, tapping him on the nose.
He merely gave her a vexatious smile in response.
He had been unprepared for exactly what met him when she returned – not only was she impeccably dressed in the pilfered First Order uniform, but the crop she had confiscated (and in turn, whipped him with), was gripped firmly in her right hand.
“Oh stars,” he breathed, pupils dilated. “What are you going to do with that?”
“You’ve been insubordinate, Private Hux,” was her cool reply.
“Have I?” he smirked.
“You have,” she smiled. “Turn over.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” she growled, coming ever closer, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Turn over. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Major,” he whispered back, making as if to flip onto his stomach and give her – and that whip, access to his ass.
“Good boy,” she grinned, moving forward and raising the hand that clutched his crop.
She had barely registered the subdued chuckle that left his lips before he had snatched it from her grasp with expert reflexes, and even more quickly managed to force her onto the bed beneath him yet again.
“As I said before, you’re far more charming than my previous commanding officers,” he panted, nipping at her ear. “And since I never got to give them their comeuppance, this will do nicely.”
It was impossible to be angry at him, after all, wasn’t this whole thing a game? Rose conceded, but only to herself, that he had won this round, and had no intention to not let herself enjoy being ‘caught’ by him, lying on her stomach, all but crushed under his weight as he gloated, triumphant.
“What are you gonna do?” she inquired, failing to sound quite as angry or intimidated as she had intended.
“D’you know how long my arse stung after you beat me silly in that fucking ‘fresher?” he hissed, running the crop firmly, threateningly along her outer thigh.
“No,” she laughed carelessly, gripping the bedsheets in anticipation. “All I know is that I liked having you where I wanted you. Where garbage like you deserved to be.”
“Is that so?” he sneered.
“Yes”, she hissed, whimpering in mock fear when he roughly sat up and threw her over his knees.
“That isn’t very Resistance-like of you,” he replied distastefully.
“What are you gonna do about it?” she laughed.
Whack.
“That,” he replied with deadly calm.
She had known what was coming and yet had still been unprepared for the stinging blow he had dealt her. She never would have imagined experiencing tears of pain in tandem with waves of arousal, and yet there she was, splayed across Hux’s lap, undecided whether to shriek or moan, ending up with what would probably have been considered an embarrassing combination of the two.
Whack.
“Not nice, is it?”
“Hmmpphh,” she whimpered, unable to form words.
Whack, whack.
“Then again, maybe it is,” he crooned mockingly, hitting her once more for good measure before bringing a hand to her face and casually wiping a tear from beneath her eye. “Do you enjoy this, Major?” he scoffed. “And you had the absolute gall to call me depraved. On the bed, hands and knees. Now.”
He ignored the way she was obviously enjoying this as she obeyed, her backside presented to him in obedience, the crisp material of the uniform accentuating the already pleasing shape of her ass. “Unclasp those pants,” he barked.
Not so long ago, she would have been mortified at the speed with which she did as he told, but now the only thing that mattered was giving him access to as much bare skin as possible, and she hastily went to work on the fastenings of the uncomfortably fussy uniform, gasping in mock embarrassment when he yanked them down, exposing her ass cheeks to the balmy open air of his bedroom.
“Good girl,” he purred, letting his hand fall again, the leather keeper licking painfully, deliciously at her bare skin, his other hand greedily seeking at her folds immediately following. “Stars, you are enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teased, fingers dragging lazily over her opening, slick with arousal. “Maybe not such a good girl.”
“Would you have me any other way?” she teased.
“My dear,” he whispered, fingers digging into her hair, “I would have you in all the ways. I will have you in all of the ways.”
“And what way will you have me tonight?” she asked, biting her lip in anticipation.
“Publicly.” The tone and inflection of his words gave away the wicked grin that he wore.
“What?” she hissed, brought somewhat unpleasantly out of the moment.
“You heard me,” he purred. “I want everyone to know, to see what I do to you night after night. To know who you really belong to.”
“I don’t belong to you!” she snapped. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“But you do, kitten,” he cooed. “Since the day you infiltrated my ship. You wanted me then, didn’t you?”
Whack.
“Like hell I did,” she laughed, quite honestly. “Don’t project.”
“Are you insinuating that I, General of the First Order, Right Hand of the Supreme Leader . . .”
“I am,” she sneered. “You admitted as much the first time you fucked me. Made love to me.”
“You little – ”
His sneer was cut short by the sound of her electro-prod crackling in his face. Where or when she had summoned it, he could not have said, but he was both taken aback and impressed as it snapped far too close for comfort.
“Hit me again,” she laughed, silvery and tormenting. “We both like it, what’s the harm?”
“Fuck you, Tico,” he hissed, throwing the crop down with a violent crack and not caring that it clattered somewhere beneath his bed.
“That’s the idea,” she purred, sitting up and giving him a condescending kiss on the mouth before lying back on his bed and pulling him atop her. “You’re going to give me what I want,” she breathed, fingers of her free hand working at the buttons of his shirt and quickly relieving him of it. “And then you’ll stay when I ask you to tomorrow morning, won’t you?”
He gritted his teeth as he undid his pants, huffing in frustrated indignance. “Yes,” he hissed.
“Yes what?” she asked, grinning lasciviously and throwing an arm around his neck, electro-prod still crackling threateningly in her grasp.
“Yes, Commander!” he sneered.
“No,” she grinned, taking him by the chin in her free hand and smiling condescendingly. “Say it, or you don’t get this tonight,” she smiled, grabbing his hand and thrusting it between her thighs.
He bared his teeth, sneering at her as hatefully as ever even as he was unable to resist driving against her a time or two, in spite of the pants he still wore. “Yes ma’am!” He spat, hating himself for it.
“Good boy,” she grinned. “You can finish taking your pants off, now.”
“Insolent bitch,” he whispered even as he obeyed.
The remark earned him a slap in the face. It did more to arouse than enrage, and instead of the blow or punishment he once would have dealt, he dipped down to kiss her after he shucked off his pants, grasping at her face with both hands as if life depended on it and giving her mouth a thorough exploration. He braced himself for further resistance or rebellion only to realize that her thighs gripped him tightly as usual, the small hands grasping at his neck and guiding him further down to nip at her neck as had become their routine. He grasped at his bedsheets, fists seeking purchase on something, anything to quiet the unresolved questions within him.
“You dare to command me,” he growled, ceasing his attention and glaring at her with feigned bitterness.
“I’m not daring, Sweetheart. I am commanding you.”
She laughed breathlessly at the sudden onslaught of him snatching her by the wrists and pinning her down.
“Are you really going to use that on me, Tico?” he taunted, indicating the still-crackling prod in her hands.
For several moments, she could not answer, suddenly horrified at the prospect of actually shocking him. What once would have delighted her now made her feel oddly uneasy and even a bit . . . was this sadness? For some forsaken reason, the last thing she wanted to do was use the prod on him, to hurt him in any capacity other than the sexually charged pinch, bite, or slap.
“I – ” she stammered, barely above a whisper, at a loss for words and somewhat infuriated for it.
“Oh, kitten,” he taunted with a mocking frown, wrenching the weapon from her grasp and forcefully throwing it to the other side of the room with a clatter. “That’s what I thought.”
The following morning, he accepted her offer of caf and even took the liberty of making himself toast and jam. For as many times as she had offered, had hoped he would do just this, she had no idea what to do now that he was casually leaned against her counter, scrolling through a borrowed datapad to catch up on what was happening on base and beyond. He had even retrieved one of the hairclips from her humble dresser to keep his ever-growing hair from falling into his eyes as he ate and read, half of his shiny locks gripped in place at the back of his head so haphazardly.
‘He looks absurd, and I could get used to it,’ she thought to herself sadly, suddenly glad for the mission she would be going on soon.
“I’m leaving,” she blurted out, after having set her mug down much harder than she had intended.
He stopped mid-chew, lips pursed and brows furrowed in slight confusion, licking his lips and swallowing before responding. “Al – alright? I’ll be right behind you? You should probably change out of your jim-jams, though.”
“Jim-jams,” she parroted, laughing absurdly.
“Your night things,” he frowned. “It’s an expression, back on – nevermind.”
“No, I – I know what you mean. It just sounds so funny coming from you. And I don’t mean I’m leaving for the day, I mean . . . I’m going to Coruscant. You can’t come.”
“Of course not, I’d be recognized in a heartbeat. They’d shoot me on sight.”
“Right,” she replied, stiffly. “That’s cleared up, then.”
“So it is,” he said coolly, going back to his scrolling.
She turned away immediately, in complete denial of the fact that she wanted to take the datapad (her datapad!) and smash it over his head, because what he had said was completely rational. Why ever would he have wanted to go to Coruscant with her?
Given that he had been her assistant for so long, Hux found himself oddly in a small position of power once more for the first time since leaving the Order, and was handling it rather poorly. He had yelled at no less than five people and declared at least three of them incompetent before it was even lunchtime. Shouting at people here did not hold a candle to the cathartic effect it’dhad on him in his previous life, and did even less for his appetite. He was still tinkering long after he and Rose would have normally made their brief appearance in the canteen to grab a few things and retreat back to the workshop. He currently had no desire to eat and even less desire to face the people he had behaved so badly to, even if they had deserved it for being unintelligent, and busied himself instead with the engine of an older cruiser, the components of which he was somewhat unfamiliar with but determined to master.
“Hey, buddy.”
Poe’s voice had startled him, causing his hand to slip and his knuckles to rake across the edge of the engine housing quite roughly.
“Karking hell!” he yelled, flapping his hand and scowling at General Dameron.
“Ah,” Poe winced. “Sorry about that. You can call me a name, too, if it makes you feel better. Won’t hurt my feelings.” He smiled softly and held out a square container of something that smelled starchy and pungent.
Hux wrinkled his nose and merely nodded for him to set it on the empty workbench by the door. Resistance food was hit and miss, and this one smelled as if . . . well, it wasn’t a hit. But probably healthier than anything he had choked down aboard a star destroyer, at any rate.
“So anyways,” Poe went on, somewhat awkwardly. “Cut out the – ”
“The shouting at people,” Hux nodded hastily.
“Yeah, that,” Poe nodded in agreement as he turned to go. “I know you’re the expert, but . . . don’t do that.”
Poe slowed his stride, squinting in disbelief at the small, but clear response that followed him as he went.
“Sorry.”
“Guy’s so frickin’ weird . . .” he muttered, leaving Hux to his engine once more.
“Ambassador Tico, thank you so much for coming. I look forward to more anecdotes about your role in ending the War, and about your turncoats. Shame circumstances won’t allow one of them to give a first-hand account.”
“My pleasure, Senator, and agreed. Maybe a year or ten down the road, right now it’s just . . . too dangerous and they’ve already risked so much. My – our main informant has had one too many close shaves for comfort.”
“And that’s saying nothing of Mister Solo, missing for all those years. Stars, the horrific things he must have endured.”
“Yeah,” Rose nodded, growing solemn. “Ben doesn’t say much. We don’t know that he ever will.” As far as she knew, anyone who had known Kylo Ren’s true identity was either dead or had no intentions of revealing it. She was sure that under ‘different’ circumstances, Hux would have wet himself at the opportunity to do so, but she knew now that they had complicated things, it was a secret he would probably take to his grave. And so would she.
A few more minutes of forced pleasantries and she would be free, she kept reminding herself. She had not expected the surge of protectiveness that had reared its head when it came to Ajan Kloss’s star traitors. Ben was, as Poe would put it, “Rey’s problem”, but it was impossible to not have a soft spot for him. As she made her way back to her transport, flanked by two officers, she wondered how different it must be for Rey and Ben; at any rate she was pretty sure they hadn’t had a hateful sexual encounter next to a bathroom sink that led to so many more ‘episodes’. Nor did Ben hide his feelings under biting sarcasm or stiff formality in front of others; in fact he often seemed shy and shell-shocked and while it was endearing, it broke her heart.
“You don’t have to, Commander,” an officer said softly as she slid into the pilot’s seat. “I can fly if you need, you know.”
“It’s fine, Lieutenant,” she forced a smile, trying not to think of Hux or Ben. “Gotta keep my mind busy.”
“As you wish, Commander.”
She spent the better part of their flight musing over how lucky Ben was to have Rey – and then wondered what deity she had insulted in her two and a half decades to be saddled with Hux, however secretly. While she could never deny she enjoyed his company, both in the workshop and naked beneath the sheets, she would bet a year’s worth of credits that Ben was easier to deal with. It was both all too long and all too soon when they reached the balmy atmosphere of Ajan Kloss and landed once again, at home, it would seem. She then realized that it her stay here had been the longest of her life, aside from her childhood on Hays Minor. A bittersweet smile pulled at her lips as she guided the transport into the hangar and thought of her parents – they would have been so proud of her. Would have loved Poe, and Finn, and Rey, and everyone, really. She wished for the millionth time that she hadn’t had to lose everyone, but quickly tucked their memory into her heart once more in lieu of bursting into tears. She was quite skilled at this by now, knowing that her parents and Page would have wanted her to live life to its fullest instead of perpetually remaining in mourning for them.
‘And what would they think of how often you bed the man that was your enemy?’
That voice. She hated that voice, that reminded her constantly of the least little hint of doubt or wrongdoing, like shame personified. She never let her thoughts dwell so far as to answer that question, especially since she was unsure of what she thought of her behavior herself. Part of her screamed that it was wrong, yet she never felt quite so at peace as when she was in post-climactic bliss, held loosely in his arms while sleep overtook them both. The galaxy itself could end and she would not care. She shook her head, willing these thoughts away as she powered down the transport and disembarked, giddy at the familiar clanging of the gangplank beneath her boots as she stepped once more onto Resistance territory. She almost smiled, before remembering herself, as a familiar and annoying copper-haired engineer slunk into the corner of her vision and began a thorough, routine inspection of the ship.
“Commander,” he nodded, voice clinical and detached, before breezing by her, without so much as a glance, far more interested in the task at hand than making eye contact.
She used up her remaining energy pretending that the slight had not stung.
Hux was one-third of the way through the bottle of brandy Poe had sympathetically slipped him earlier that week when he heard a knock at the door. He paused pouring to sneer in the direction of the noise, before turning back and letting the amber liquid glug dangerously close to the rim of his glass and slouching unceremoniously into the wide, shabby chair in one corner of the small apartment; kitchen, bedroom and living area were all one room, with a small water closet off to the side. It was too early still to tuck in for the night. He took a few careful sips of his drink, deliberately ignoring the unceasing knock at his door until it grew genuinely annoying. He set his glass down on the floor with a clack, a bit rougher than he had intended to, and hauled himself up from his seat, stomping to the door with no small amount of irritability, throwing it open to reveal, to absolutely no surprise, his commanding officer and the woman who had kept him warm and sated for so many nights now.
“What?” he grunted.
“You blew me off this afternoon,” she replied. Her eyes were bloodshot and her words slurred, giving away that he was not the only one who had been in his cups that night.
“I acknowledged you,” he retorted sourly. “Used your bloody rank and everything.”
“You know what I mean,” she snarled, shouldering her way in and pulling the door closed behind her with a slam.
“Do I? Really?” he yelled sardonically. “I serviced your fucking ship – that’s my job, isn’t it? Licking you people’s boots and servicing things for you? Your ships, your . ..” his eyes darted to her crotch for a moment, his face adopting an unfamiliar expression, before he abruptly turned away, bending down to pick up his glass and muttering something incomprehensible. “Before . . .”
“What was that?” she asked, a bit too loudly.
He took an overlarge swig of his drink before answering bitterly. “Before being told ‘you can’t come’, as if I’m just some common dog! That’s right,” he went on, adopting a mean smile when he whirled around and noticed her look of shock and slight hurt.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” she responded, somewhat coldly. “Because you seemed perfectly fine with it at the time, something about not wanting to be ‘shot on sight’.”
“Never mind!” he growled, avoiding her gaze.
“Hux?” she questioned. Her voice had gone soft and tentative now. She stretched out one hand, gently caressing his arm. “You didn’t miss me, did you?”
“Absolutely not,” he scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Even as he spoke, his eyes wandered to her hand on his arm, unable to stop the minute twitch of his face that gave him away; he knew any attempts to continue his bluff were futile as soon as she saw it. “Fuck”, he whispered under his breath.
She chortled softly. “That’s what we’re good at, isn’t it?”
“We’re good at other things, too,” he replied, ever resisting the slight smile that tugged at his lips.
“Was that an actual compliment, coming from you?” she teased softly.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Sweetling.” He took her by the hand and tugged.
“I’ll try not to,” she rolled her eyes. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, following his lead, unsurprised when he all but dragged her to the bed and placed his half-empty glass on the nightstand.
Unceremoniously, he scooped her up and dumped her onto the bed, grinning down at her in a way that was more playful than predatory. “To show how exactly how much I haven’t missed you.”
“Hux, I really think we should talk before you – ” her words were cut off with a gasp as he scooted down lower, grinning wickedly up at her before c tugging her pants and underwear off and tossing them aside, closing his eyes and licking a firm stripe against her most intimate of places. “Dammit,” she whispered, “You know I can’t resist when you do that. . .”
“I do know,” he replied, looking up at her with a twisted smile, before dipping down once more, tongue plunging into her wet walls and exploring with abandon.
Rose clamped a hand over her mouth shamefully, resolve dissolving at the sensation of gentle sucking at her swollen nub, one hand tangled in his mussed hair.
“Good girl,” he crooned yet again, fingers grasping painfully at her hips, pinning her to the bed even while she wriggled beneath his fingers and the ministrations of his surprisingly talented mouth.
“You’re the worst,” she gasped, yanking at his copper strands in delighted frustration.
“I am,” he growled in agreement, looking up at her with an evil grin. “But you must admit, I’m the best at it.”
“Now . . .” he muttered, around an hour later, both of them basking in post-coitus calm, “We can talk about why you were really cross with me today.”
“I’m not cross anymore,” she murmured, tucking her face into the curve of his neck.
“But you were,” he frowned, stroking the top of her head with uncharacteristic gentleness.
“Go to sleep,” she grumbled, nuzzling even closer against him.
“I’m not in the mood for taking orders,” he replied sternly. “You know I can’t just scoop you up and give you a big kiss on the mouth every time you come back from a trip.”
“You still didn’t need to be such a jackass,” she pouted, putting her arms around his neck.
He let out a long-suffering sigh, nudging her onto her side so that he could do the same; he hated sleeping on his back. “We’ll talk about this more when we’re both sober, yeah? Let’s just settle down for the night.”
“Hux?”
“Yeah?” he replied, sleep already reaching out for him with its comforting fingers.
“You can come with me on missions sometimes. I don’t mind.”
“Again,” he laughed softly, “we’ll discuss more when we’re sober. You’re talking nonsense.”
“Uh-uh,” she argued. “Next week, we’re targeting some of your old buddies. I talked Poe into putting you on the roster.”
“What?”