#pervim

Hux blinks at the closed door, an obvious sign but not one he’s willing to accept sitting down. He has the very highest clearance from the Supreme Leader (both the deceased and the recently crowned, as it were), and how dare some lowly thing in a helmet tell him where he can and cannot go. Despite knowing it to be incredibly foolhardy at best, Hux cannot help but pull out his datapad, enter the override code to the door and stride through, the smallest flicker of annoyance plain on his face.

It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that even his nearest and dearest Knight wouldn’t be immune to his ire, not after the umpteenth snide comment or ribbing of the hour and certainly not after Kylo had been breathing fire all cycle over the general state of affairs. Row had a habit of knowing exactly which hot-button issues would rile him at any given moment and still, in all his bewildering and omnipresent glory, push them anyway, as if sent to Kylo as some sort of punishment for his deeds. And while he didn’t always regard Row with such annoyance, his patience wore thin more often than not as of late. He had the man against the bulkhead in between quickening heartbeats. Dully, distantly, his head pounded, feeling a brief lurch of congruity before it lapsed again. Damn Rownei Ren and damn his mouth.

That there would be some retaliation was entirely expected. That he would feel so strongly about the tug at his own robe, well -- perhaps less so, and in tandem with the curl of lips under his palm Kylo’s self control withered. He allowed Row to pull him in, jutting a knee between thighs and pinning with his hips, no witnesses to bear in the empty belly of the ship.

Anger mingled with other, more base needs, roiling unpleasantly. He released Rownei’s mouth only to grasp his jaw in a vice, wishing nothing more than to wipe that impetuousness off his face; the Master glowered.

                                                              ---

It’s never been said.

It’s only a passing thought shared and understood for the futility it holds and pain it keeps. There’s nothing to gain from such a feeling. And yet, it kept appearing in brief moments of possibility.

They could see it in each other ; where the cold and fire makes room for the other, just enough to pass, only ever scratched but not truly harmed. Annoyances pass easier, emotions flow through without cover, mistakes paid for with one grain less of salt to rub in the wound. It’s a small allowance, but its existence rings volumes to those that are trained to listen. The shadows cover it all. The shadows know better than to throw it to light. It’s a natural progression, not surprising but neither predicted.

Evolution took its course over the years. Less mistakes made in technicalities but more in their understanding. Too close, became the overarching judgement, too close. Far too late to stop. The boiling energy that runneth over into airless practice of old finds a course to shaking breaths of desperation. In those moments a fragment of possibility exists, a hint of that which is unspoken allowed some movement. Any glance away breaks it. Duty rests heavy upon broad shoulders, and feigned ignorance upon the other’s. Hope has no place in them.

There is only what should happen and what is meant to happen - they have no part in that as one. The allowances of one another must be the remaining brittle almost of what they could have been. Every passing glance, every softer mistake, every share of breath is a look into maybe.

Fate does not allow it - a cruel and stubborn course of nature it is. They can seek each other but not revel in it ; have each other but not name it. The feeling in one threatens to strike, and the other tells them where.

This pain will kill them both.

                  - He loves him, but it must not be. And him loves he, but it cannot be. But they want. And that, that can break itself free.

A single well aimed punch knocked Row’s head sharply to the side. Of all things, he hadn’t been expecting that.

But the second punch Dameron threw at him missed Row entirely. A single well-timed step to the left caused his fist to fly right over Row’s shoulder, and before Dameron could pull it back, Row grabbed his wrist, quickly twisting until in a single, swift movement, Row was able to throw Dameron onto the floor.

Rownei wasn’t quite content with leaving the point at that, though. He followed Dameron onto the ground, legs pinning thighs and hands pushing against wrists. Theoretically, Dameron had almost no chance of moving. Row smirked down at the man, obviously well aware of the fact. Now this was a point made.

Evidently, not one good enough to get through Dameron’s head. That look in his eyes automatically had Row’s attention, and the moment Dameron’s mouth opened to say something Row leant down, kissing him with enough force to tell him to shut up.

After a brief moment Row pulled away, smirk still set in place. The Knight only had one word, one suggestion for Poe.

“Concede.”

Hand to hand had never been his style. It’d never been more clear than it was in this moment, and no amount of  enthusiasm could make up for the difference in skill between them. With the wind already thoroughly knocked out of him, he struggled to find purchase between his gloved hands and the knight’s thighs as they pressed against his ribs.

There had absolutely, at one point, been a sharp comment on his lips. It might have even called for something flirty, position considered, had the situation not been so dangerous. Despite this, the kiss had been a surprise. Shock traveled up his back and along his arms, jagged and uncomfortably warm, until his fingertips curled against fabric and into the beneath it.

“Thought this was a fight. Did I miss something?” 

Hand to hand had never been his style, but this kind of warfare was just unfair.

“I can’t blame them...I’ll just maim them on my throne.”

what invigorates life, invigorates death        & the dead advance as much as the living advance                 & the future is no more uncertain than the present

Though barely showing his surprise, Row was completely thrown off by the question. In truth, he had almost forgotten about it. In reaction, his hand pulled forward stray pieces of hair, trying to at least somewhat cover the line of bruising on the side of his temple.

“Working on an engine down in the hangars.” A nonchalant shrug accompanied Row’s answer. There was more of a story to it than that, but he’d never been one for many words.

Having never been able to make use of it herself, Baraga couldn’t understand how some of these force users could be so clumsy. Curiosity could be found behind the question, and some small measure of concern for the newly turned knight. No one wanted to lose them, not after all the effort that had been put into acquiring them in the first place.

That concern immediately dissipated once she had her answer, though. This had more to do with his hobbies than it did some dire, combative circumstance.

The way he tried to hide it, in vain, was not lost on her. The helmet he had been issued was near-by, resting on top of a crate. It’d take him some time to learn to use it, and it became increasingly evident that this knight was still just a child.

“Good thing I don’t plan on fighting anyone who knows them, then.” Choosing to go along with the push, Rownei ended up taking a few steps away from Kylo. Glancing up, he could see the broad arcs of Kylo’s sword reflected in the mirror opposite them. In response - and with minimal hesitation - Row switched direction, angling around to cleanly slice towards his opponent. “Especially with anyone who’s known me as long as you have. Unfair advantage.”