General Hux very much considered himself to be the poster child of the First Order. Born from the ashes of the Old Imperial Navy; he was after all the product of both the old regime and that which was set to become the glorious new. Impeccably driven by a ruthless need to succeed for the betterment of his galaxy for all of human-kind. He set himself as the shining example, to all of his men of how one was expected to behave in his new world.
Emotions were needless to men such as he; a total waste of the energies spent to express them. Elation, sadness, love, loneliness, lust; anything that did not encompass the ruthless fury that drove the First Order, was acceptable only to the commoners who would one day serve beneath them. The General demonstrating to his men on a daily basis; that calculated logical behaviour was what he expected. Those who would follow in his need for a perfected future would first perfect their own personal deportment.
As such it was a given that he considered himself devoid of any base need, such as the couple he was currently signing off for reconditioning. Having found them both in possession of lewd and disgustingly sentimental pornographic material, he was beyond disappointed with them. Personally, he would have preferred to shove the both of them out of the nearest airlock; and the holodisks with them. But given the backlash if he killed the only technicians who were willing and apparently capable of working on that blasted idiot, Ren’s tie; this was not an option.
There had been some preposterous argument put forward by one, that even under the Imperial Navy masturbation had been actively encouraged amongst the senior ranking officers, that this was simply an aid to doing so. That regular practice of onanism lowered the risks to certain cancers, boosted immunity, and encouraged the replenishment of the healthy male spermatozoa.
But what made it worse was the unabashed way the officers who had both stared and recorded the holovid looked at General Hux. They both should have been appalled with themselves; and not trying to reason with the most senior commanding officer over its creation; let alone the distribution of the illicit material amongst the crew of the Finalizer. His men needed to keep their focus on saving the galaxy and not on a holovid of two men having intimate relations with one another. His men should not have had time for such frivolous self-abuse.
It had taken all the restraint he had to avoid showing actual shock, when the suggestion was made for the General to take the time to watch the Imperial broadcasted propaganda. Ordering both the men to remove themselves this very instant and to report to the officer responsible for reconditioning. Restlessly waiting until he was alone. Taking a swig of corellian brandy directly from the ship’s decanter in his office, before he was comfortable with touching the vile contraband and tossing it into the trash compactor.
The rest of his watch had thankfully gone without any further issues on that matter. He had of course made the broadcast to politely inform the crew, that any further discoveries of such illicit material would result in their instant termination. Offering a forty-eight-hour amnesty for anyone who purged their personal devices; or chose to dispose of any hard copies via the ships waste system.
Then there had been the usual flurry of activity to keep General Hux occupied. Data reports on the relationship between the New-Republic and the Resistance; all of which clearly confirmed his earlier suspicions that yes, they were in league with their precious princess. Kylo Ren had of course had a hissy fit over some missing lead or another on the map to Skywalker. Deciding to once again display why the military was no fit place for a civilian and vandalise yet again another part of his ship. Which coupled with some of the latest supply issues, threatened to seriously jeopardise this quarter’s budget. Then lastly there was the shared turbolift with the masked menace. During which he had seen fit to tease the General on his lecture to the crew, completely distracting General Hux from his carefully scripted reprimanding.
It seemed that Commander Ren could not see the problem with the pornography; nor General Hux thought, was he likely to either. A man such as Ren, ruled with a different type of power, a chaotic entitled power. Whereas the General’s was created by himself, from daily regime of hard work, dedication and educated upbringing. Creating a ruthless control, that spoke volumes when he addressed his subordinates. Which compared to Ren’s fortunate (for Kylo Ren at least) circumstance of genetics; was far superior to any hocus-pocus parlour tricks.
So, it was with a thudding headache and permanently exhausted shoulder muscles, that a very weary; very stressed, General Hux made his way back to his personal chambers. Kicking off his boots and hanging his coat in the wardrobe. Gloves placed in their specific spot on his dresser, before depositing the days soiled clothing in the laundry chute. His daggers, he slid as always under his pillow, his side arm onto its stand. Folding back the sheets for the night to a very exact triangle and with a heavy sigh, ordering the shower to run.
It was of course, a very perfunctory shower. Basic enough that he stepped from it clean and refreshed, but not long enough that he took any crass luxuries from it. Running water and good soap was like most resources; only permissible to himself, just so long as he did not choose to grow soft to its touch.
As was the alcohol he was currently sipping. Obviously, an expensive brand (he was a man with taste after all). But it was there only as an aid, to unwind from the constant stresses of his job. Enabling him to be relaxed enough that rest time, would be sufficient to revive him for the trials of the next watch.
It was somewhere after the third glass that he began to feel able to objective and effectively look back on the problems of the day. His data pad as always was to hand. Needing occasionally to deal with the odd request that the crew genuinely, felt was necessary to disturb his personal time with. But taking the time to in between to read up on some of the lesser known history of the Imperium; ignorance would never do.
He was savouring his last drink of the evening, when a message popped up from a random source. Sender unknown, but its header highlighting General Hux to its content. ‘The Future is in Your Hands’.
At first Glance it appeared to be a genuine Imperial source and believing it to be just some forgotten propaganda, he opened it with mild curiosity. Nearly choking on the last mouthful of his brandy, as it began to automatically play. Coughing as spluttering the fiery liquid up, as he fought to return the glass to the sideboard. Refilling it with a much more indulgent tot, than was usually permissible to himself.
The coding all looked to be authentic and when he opened the holovid it was Wilhuff Tarkin himself who was delivering the message. An entire thirteen minutes of a cringeworthy lecture on the importance of the Imperial men keeping themselves healthy through masturbation.
General Hux needed several large gulps before he was settled enough to realise that he needed to restart the holovid. Fussing the silk stitch work on his robe and fidgeting in his seat trying to find a comfortable position to seat himself in. This time being far more attentive to the contents, than he had been before.
What struck him the most about the holovid, was the uneasy realisation that the technician had been right. His enthusiastic assurances that General Hux had gotten it all wrong; that the Empire had encouraged its senior officers to masturbate; had come from a genuine source. Granted it was, according to Tarkin, not something to indulge oneself in. Not something that was healthy to do, more that was medically necessary. But every three to five days the Imperial men had been encouraged to masturbate, collect their sperm and then hand it discreetly over to the Imperial Navy’s medics. What use they had for it, General Hux could not discern; but he could make an educated guess or two. Backed up when he did some research through the encrypted archival files.
Apparently regular emissions improved the general health of their spermatozoa; and it seemed that the male spermatozoa had a shorter lifespan once they reached maturity than the female. This being partly what the Empire had been trying to achieve. More healthy conceptions and an increase in the male heirs conceived naturally. It also provided the appropriate genetic material for those for whom, their lifestyle choices, health or sexuality necessitated an alternative approach to reproduction.
That was not all though. The message stressed that for male personnel, regular ejaculations were a vital part of their regime. It kept not only their reproductive health on top form, but their physical health too. It lowered stress levels and the technician had been correct, it did indeed increase the bodies natural immunity.
A fifth glass in and General Hux swore it would be his last drink of the evening. His head spinning not just from the quantity of Alcohol produced; but from the dizzying realisation that he had gotten it all wrong. His whole life he had been raised with a natural aversion to anything overtly sexual. Not that he could consider himself asexual in the true definition of the word. There had been the odd times when in his younger days, that he like most boys, he had masturbated.
His early ventures into self-exploration had been over the day Maratelle walked in on him. Telling him on no uncertain terms how degenerate his behaviour had been, her ugly sneer making him reluctant to any further attempts. The day he had walked in on his father humping some poor servant or other had been as equally devastating to his sex life. Putting him off completely. It seemed that sex was something that he very much did not want or need to try. It had not looked all that enjoyable for the servant; and he had far more control, than putting someone through all of that; he was better than his pathetic father. Now though, he felt very confused on the matter. More so than he had been for all the time he could be considered sexually mature.
Something that he had steadfastly believed was neither normal or wholesome, was apparently something much desired from the men of the old Imperial. It rather put paid to thirty something years of it being acceptable to be frightened of his own cock. Which, speaking of, appeared to have a mind to follow its own agenda after that holovid. Giving a couple of annoying twitches against the silken fabric of his robe.
The datapad having been set aside some sips ago, lay next to him on the couch. Leaving the hand not currently nursing his glass of brandy, dangerously devoid of anything practical to do. He had to admit right now, that it was very tempting to slide that hand between the edges of his robe. To lay back and loosen his belt. To toss the robe aside and free his cock; to give it what it seemed to be incessantly demanding of him.
His fingers were almost on his cock, before the cold dread of what he was doing made him snatch his hand away. Slamming back the remaining liquor and fleeing to the safety of his bed. Deciding that it was only the alcohol making him feel this way; it would be different in the morning.
His dreams that night where unusually vivid for a man who had drunk so much; and slept so little. Black and red landscapes, each one filled with a nauseating scene of him prone on his bed. Naked and bound tightly with red silken scarfs; the fabric strong enough to keep him helplessly in place. A thinner band wrapped around his obscenely jutting cock; its touch against him as whisper-soft as his robe had been. A tall, imposing brunette stood, his back to Hux but with his legs either side of his tethered ones. Towering over him and leering, as he peered down at a writhing General Hux. Pressing the ball of one foot onto his chest, a thick trail of spit splattering onto the reddened tip of his heavy cock.
The sleep sensation woke General Hux. Scrambling to sit back safely at the side of his bed. Taking the seven deep gulps necessary to slow his heart to a more acceptable rate. Hands either side of his hips; and definitely not, touching anywhere that was his pelvic region. Reasoning with himself that it was only a dream. That none of this meant that his conscious or reasoned self would have accepted any of the degradation being dealt out to him. It did not mean that he liked it, was curious about it, nor would he ever be accepting of it.
With a deep sigh, he climbed from his bed. Taking the time, as was usual to remake it; sheets folded into precise corners and pleats. Fussing over his appearance in the mirror before stepping into the shower. Turning the temperature down until the annoying thrumming of his cock thankfully dissipated. The shower icy cold; but thankfully leaving him flaccid enough that he could now touch his groin enough to wash and dress for the day. Summoning a protocol droid to fetch him his morning cup of tarine tea, so that he could sip from the insulated beaker whilst he was marching to his command centre.
The day went not dissimilar to the one before. The main exception being that instead of reprimanding degenerate staff; he was the one who should have been reprimanded.
All he could think of was last nights discovered holovid and the appalling dreams it had stirred. Desperately trying; but failing to push aside all memories that he had of the effects it had caused. Determined to go about his day in the most professional manner. Not he reminded himself hourly, to spend the time debating as to if he should give into self-fulfilment or not.
He had almost made it to the end of his official working day, when he was summoned to the medicentre. It would seem that yet again Kylo Ren had seen fit to make his day more complicated than it of course should have been. His colleague having this time, to General Hux’s smug delight (internalised of course), fallen foul of the karmic forces. Badly damahing his hand, in an unfortunately successful attempt to damage Hux’s ship.
The problem of course, was not the damage to Supreme Leader’s apprentice; that he could not care less about. No, it was the damage that Kylo Ren was currently inflicting on his primary medicentre and the staff within it. And so, he had found himself reluctantly at the man’s bedside. Giving authorisation to the terrified medic to sedate the half-naked Kylo Ren. Rolling his eyes at his refusal and taking the needle from him before dismissing them. Inserting the drug himself, with perhaps more enthusiasm than was strictly professional.
Unconscious Ren was a whole lot more agreeable than angry, moody awake Ren. Plus, his subconscious decided for him, in a fleeting and frankly ghastly mini thought; a whole lot more attractive.
That thought stream had made him almost vomit with panic, as he stood to stroke down his uniform. Taking a moment to still his thoughts and then with a last minute and very panicked after thought grabbing a small container from the side cupboard as he made a extremely dignified dash back to his rooms.
His quarters were thankfully off limits to all staff, making this the safest; no, the only place to do this. Chest thumping and breathing erratic as he ripped off his clothing, coming back and forcing himself to deal more maturely with them. Tossing the pilfered tube, for it to lay guiltily atop of his couch. Forcing himself to ignore the impulsive yearning to go back, to sit there and use it.
Instead running himself a shower. Imposing upon himself the same rigid sense of nightly cleanliness that he always had. Towelling his hair off and wrapping himself in his night robe. Combing his hair and making sure to cut and file his nails, before pulling a pair of medical gloves from the refresher room cabinet. Laying them alongside the plain white cylinder, that glared accusingly up at him from the blue fabric of his couch. Pacing the room; and avoiding making eye contact with the contraband item.
Even with his will already crumpled, it took two more glassed of his brandy before he was composed enough to sit next to the items on his couch. Another full measure before he was able to touch them, pouring one last one just in case he should require any further courage once this had all started. Setting everything out neatly, tissues, lube and gloves; he could do this.
He was hard before he had disrobed. Standing to lay the black silk across the back of the couch, careful to move the edges to where it could not be sullied. Blushing the same red as the emblem on embroidered into his clothing, as he worked up the courage to sit.
The couch felt cool and luxurious where it kissed against his exposed ass and balls. Soft and so comforting in its embrace, as he slouched back into it. Pulling on the gloves before he unscrewed the stolen tube. Smearing the cold sticky lube all over his hands, before rubbing them together to remove the deeper chill from them. Taking one last nervous breath before rubbing both over his dick, slickened slaps ringing through the room as he tenderly smothered his cock in the frictionless lube.
He perhaps should not have been this willing to progress this speedily from his first touch, to the arrhythmic pumps of his slickened first around his cock. Soothing the guilt in his conscious by reminding himself that according to one of the greatest military brains, ever to have come from the old Imperium; this was a wholesome activity.
But if it was so wholesome; then why were the images that slowly crept into his thoughts anything but. Lewd fantasies of him being restrained, his hands tied behind his back. Lips forced wide open as he choked on a fat cock. Drool mingled with salty tears, spilling over his cheeks and dripping onto his chest. His eyes glassy and unfocused, his mouth fucked with absolute abandonment, by a brute of a cock. General Hux helplessly forced to kneel and just take the punishing pace. All whilst the owner repeatedly told him how pathetic he was; how much he was going to make him his personal slut.
His virtual cock swelled harder with ever imagined insult, throbbing inside the circle of his sheathed fingers. His thoughts becoming more degenerate with every stroke of his hand. Slender hips rising to meet it as he slipped deeper inside the vulgar imagination, that he honestly had not known that he possessed.
Now imagining that he was instead bent face down over his table. His virgin arse propped up high as an offering to a small crowd of faceless; but very much willing men. Someone’s thick finger slowly trailing the crack of his ass, pushing forwards into it.
General Hux shuddered and opened his eyes in horror. Both hands dropping his cock with a yelp of surprise. That last hand had belonged to someone. Someone whom General Hux knew very well and greatly despised. Not only that, but his arse was dirty, no one should be touching him there.
Especially not Kylo Ren, the man he despised more than anyone else. The thought of Ren touching him anywhere, was the most revolting thing his imagination could have thrown at him right now. Shuddering in disgust as he realised that his cock had its own independent opinions on being touched by Kylo Ren.
Eyes followed the line of milk freckled skin, that led to the jut of his hips. His cock flushed with a redness that reflected on his face; both treacherous to his internal turmoil. He swallowed hard. His throat bobbing as he tried desperately to reason with himself, to decide if he was going to let his head win; or the heady strum of liquid lust that coursed his veins.
Another shot of brandy sealed the deal for him. One hand dropping to cup his testicles; his hips jerking as his finger brushed gingerly over the puckered hole below it. His cheeks lighting further on fire as he experimentally pushed his index finger against the tight hole, his finger going no further than the tip before he had to withdraw it. Drizzling more lube and trying again, a deep guttural moan ringing from his throat, as he pushed it in further up and to the next knuckle.
His free hand fiddled clumsily with the last of the lube. His shaking hand, managing to deposit as much of it into the copper hairs foresting his pubis; as the intended target of his cock. The natural smoothness of the gloves making the glide of both hands easier on his sensitive skin. The synthetic coating, thankfully more alien than his own skin would have been to him.
General Hux tried to concentrate wholly on just the sensations. His hips rutting against both hands. The finger in his ass twisting about until it was just so, sparking off black stars behind the lids of his eyes. Eyes fluttering behind those lids, precum dripping to coat the thick covering of lube already sheathing his cock. His breath running ragged in his lungs, fast and overly shallow as he spit forth a string of muttered mewls. His dominant hand obeying the angry commands of his indignant cock.
It was not long before the sensations once more overcame his ability to keep his repulsively overactive imagination out of this. Fighting against brief visions of him being man handled by the dark-haired man unconscious in his medicentre. Each push back of his unfettered fantasies, making it harder for him to let go enough for his cock to reach its desired conclusion. Reasoning until lustful desire conquered his common sense, that this was ridiculous. Kylo Ren was laid out and comatosed, at the other side of his ship. There was no way he was ever going to know that the General had jerked off to thoughts of his Commander fucking him.
Now he let the unrestricted vagaries rush unchecked across his thoughts. Imagining Kylo Ren’s colossal chest, muscles rippling as he pinned Hux against his couch. That it was Ren’s cumbersome hand and not his own wrapped needily around his cock. Ren’s deep rumbling growls telling Hux exactly what he thought of his vulgar needs. Nipping teeth working hungrily down his neck. His mouth perhaps following onto suck at his nipples. Flickering his tongue over them whilst his other hand was buried between the crack of his ass.
But he realised, Ren’s fingers would be thicker than his slender digits. Sucking in a deep breath as he added a second finger to his arse, the thickness delightfully pleasant as they touched on something inside of him that had him almost wailing. Never having realised before just how good touching that spot was going to feel. His hazy gaze blurred, eyes opening, but still lost in his daydream of being man handled by Ren. His arse twitching erratically around the imagined Ren’s finger.
He could use either those massive biceps or the force to pin him in place, he realised. Another wave of precum beading down his cock as he fantasied that he was held in place, Ren’s hair falling around his face as he arched his neck. Ren’s tongue darting to wet his lips. Licking Hux’s cock, before his mouth engulfed the whole of it. Plush lips running up and down his shaft. Mouthing it over and over again. Thoughts of Ren still telling him how perverse he was for enjoying his mouth, pushed him to the edge; whilst Hux would cry out for him that he was there.
His vision snapped back to the real world, just in time to see his cock give one last violently-strong throb. The sudden intensity of it leaving him with no time, or inclination to grab the tissue. Pulse after pulse, splattering milky white ropes of cum across both his hips and thighs. Leaving him helplessly weak, his breathing slower, deeper as he slumped back. Lips parted and eyes hooded with satisfaction, chest heaving as his cock lay limp across one thigh. Sated and languid in a way he had not been for years. His fingers trailing curiously through the mess he had made of his body.
An impulse, making him study his gloved index finger. Experimentally playing with the strings of cum on it. One last immodest flash of a daydream imagining Ren laid beside him. His warm body slotted at the side of Hux’s, his immense frame dwarfing Hux’s slighter body. Imagining his thicker fingers, callused and firm; cupping Hux’s fingers and pushing them to his mouth. Forcing him to taste the bitter, musky seed spread out on them. Cheeks blushing and hollowing as his thoughts took on a different pattern. Kylo Ren whispering in his ear, as he sucked between the synthetic coverings. Swallowing the last of the spend that was there, the sobering ‘good boy Hux’ he imagined uttered quietly to him, making him shriek in realisation. Sprinting to the shower to clean himself off, totally and utterly disgusted with his behaviour.