Hux feels immensely guilty for cancelling his dinner plans with Kylo but with High Command breathing down his neck for plans to regroup after the Starkiller disaster, he felt as though he was left with no other choice.
Kylo had sounded a little disappointed over their comlink channel but had understood his alpha’s work commitments with a sigh and signed off with a heartfelt ‘take it easy’ before cutting their chat short.
With his datapad in front of him and holograms of planets and ships hovering above his desk, Hux tries to keep himself focussed on his task, shoving his glasses back up his nose every time they slip, frustrated. But a sudden knock on his office door startles him to the point where his ass leaves his chair for a moment, before he composes himself and orders the disrupter to enter.
Through the blur of his hologram, Hux can see Kylo’s silhouette, and the arms on his hairs prickle at the omega’s glorious scent, filling the air like a flash flood.
“Ren,” Hux says, gasping. “I wasn’t expecting you. I said I’d be home in a few hours, I can’t afford to neglect this project. It’s just a few more pages and then I’ve got to review–are you…are you wearing lingerie?”
Hux stares through the hologram, eyes fixated on Kylo’s body. A triangle bra sits over his nipples, failing to cover most of his thick chest, but the dark lace garments contrast with his pale skin so well that Hux’s cock swells immediately. A piece of almost-transparent black silk hangs down from the bra, shielding his stomach as though his toned muscle is a privilege to see and not a right. Stocking and suspenders attach to his underwear, and Kylo’s own cock is tucked into a tight pair of panties, a thin string running around the width of his hips and turning into a thong around the back. Black lace adorned with red embellishments, Kylo looks breath-taking, ravishing, divine.
Hux wants to eat him right up.
The front section of one side of Kylo’s hair is clipped back with a red bow, and he saunters towards Hux’s desk with sashaying hips and wet lips.
“General,” Kylo hums. “I hear you’ve been working too hard.”
Hux swallows hard, mouth hanging open.
“Hard,” Hux mutters, twisting in his seat as his pants grow tighter. “Hard. Oh! Working hard. Yes, I–”
Kylo mounts the desk, climbing across it and through the holograms until he’s through and face-to-face with his speechless alpha, and he sits and drapes his legs either side of Hux’s chair, running his stocking-clad feet up Hux’s trembling thigh.
The alpha goes rigid in his seat.
“Are you going to deny me now, alpha, sweetheart?” Kylo smirks, biting his lip, rubbing at his cock, bringing it to full hardness so it strains against his satin panties.
“N-no, fuck. Kylo, if I’d known this is what you had in store for tonight–”
“Oh, this?” Kylo looks down at himself and shakes his head. “No, no. Dinner is what we had planned for tonight. This, all of this, is my secret weapon to get me what I want.”
Hux swallows hard, cheeks flushing, knowing that Kylo had his wrapped around his little finger.
Browning believed spiritualism to be fraud, and proved one of Daniel Dunglas Home’s most adamant critics. When Browning and his wife Elizabeth attended one of his séances on 23 July 1855, a spirit face materialized, which Home claimed was Browning’s son who had died in infancy: Browning seized the “materialization” and discovered it to be Home’s bare foot. To make the deception worse, Browning had never lost a son in infancy.