MOAN lbr hux gives no fux
Moan Meme || Accepting || @todisorder
TWO: My muse will get down on their knees for your muse
Ever since his first, ah, tryst, with General Hux, Eight Seven’s skin has felt too tight. During training, showers, polishing his armor, even before he goes to sleep, he’s on edge, caught up in the feeling that he’s missing something. The tasks that used to center him are only distractions from the constant thrumming under his skin, and it takes all his concentration to aptly perform tasks he had seen as simple before -
Before he’d kissed the most powerful man on this ship, before that man had kissed him back.
Eight Seven had been cleaning his blaster, the parts spread out in front of him at the work station when Captain Phasma appeared behind him. He snapped to attention, glad he hadn’t decided to remove his helmet for the task. Moments later, when she told him General Hux had ordered him to report for duty in his private quarters, he was even more relieved that the white and black helmet shielded her from his shocked expression. He’d saluted and set off on his way, his body reacting to the orders before his mind could fully grasp them.
Now, though, in front of the entrance to the General’s room, Eight Seven was paralyzed by the possibilities for why he’d been called here. Perhaps the General had heard his performance suffered after the kiss and wanted to reprimand him? Maybe he’d forgotten, and had asked for any sanitation trooper to clean up a mess. Somehow, the idea of being tossed aside and forgotten was worse than a formal reprimand. His hands trembled as he knocked, and the door hissed open moments after. Eight Seven walked in the room, unable to take in any details other than General Hux, his presence, and the one word spoken between them.
