CUDDLR

[neutronium]

Hux(34) I'm not interested in your bleeding hearts. If you're under the age of 25, click X. I enjoy people who are competent and actually know how to do their jobs, and do them well. Also, leather.

✓.✕

YES
<span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#2EB82E;">✓</span>


NO
<span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#CC0000;">✕</span>

Comments

[neutronium]

[Hux purses his lips, and a little hint of amusement appears behind his eyes before he takes a sip of his drink.]

I used to be a sniper. That weapon is useless in close quarters. I'll manage with their archaic weapons--adaption is important, always.

[He does quirk an eyebrow when Cassian starts talking again because, well--]

I was going to ask your hard nos, and what your safe word was. Glad to see you know what you are about. I also dislike kissing. [At least with anyone but one...or perhaps two...people.]

We understand each other, then.

[He gestures to the bag he brought.]

I confess I do prefer to take away hand use, but again...adaptation.

[doandordie]

[A fellow sniper. Cassian files that tidbit of information away with as little outward reaction as possible and drinks from his own glass before putting it aside.]

If you still enjoy the illusion of it, as long as I am able to undo the bindings myself if necessary, it's acceptable.

[He had removed himself from worse situations in the past, but without his boots it was hard to keep access to his tools. He slips out of them now, setting them to the side and unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt.]

It's good to know you come prepared. [Both the gun and the bag. If anything, the lack of trust being mutual is more settling than unsettling. Hux is in some respects like-minded and he can work with that and the different dangers it brings to the table.]

Anything else to add?

[neutronium]

I do enjoy the illusion. A simple twist could get out of one of my cuffs. Perhaps we can use those.

[A compromise. Something he rarely does. But he can do so, in the face of someone who understands the situation so completely.]

I always come prepared.

And no, there is nothing else to add.

Though I suggest we have a drink and talk, slightly, before we get to business. I enjoy detachment, but complete detachment is...clinical. Undesirable.

[doandordie]

A good policy, and I'm willing to make that compromise.

[He agrees, and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. It was low enough to let his feet remain on the floor, and he kept his drink in his hand. With his shirt hanging open, and his socks against the floor, he regarded Hux with a curious gaze.

He had already established no digging personal questions, but not all questions needed to be digging or personal and some could be conversationally 'personal'.

Hux had already claimed the alcohol selection had been a good choice, so he was forced to move on to something else. What he wanted to talk about did not line up with his own rules. Hux was a sniper, he worked in the city with a standard issued gun that was not in any form of sniper configuration.]

An interesting juxtaposition. I can see the merits in that. [Even if his own preferences leaned more toward somewhere between a lack of conversation in any fashion and a desire to leave himself behind.]

Though I have to wonder how uninteresting a person has to be to dip into clinical for a lack of words. I am sure we are both capable of being interesting in ways beyond that.

I used to be a sniper as well. [A piece for a piece. Information was never bought without a price, and while he wasn't searching for an informant, it was on some level either an illusion or an olive branch of freely offered information in return for what had seemed to be the same.]

[neutronium]

You see the merits but don't agree. Fair enough. Safe words can go towards conversation as well, you know.

[Hux moves to loosen his own shirt, but doesn't remove his gloves. Those will stay on--he's quite sure that Cassian will enjoy them. He stands before the other man, leaning against the wall. No need to sit on the bed, to make some sort of companionable room like that. That isn't what this is about. This is about settling in without 'settling'. The duality that he enjoys, so much.

He snorts, sipping his drink.]

I believe in being precise with words. Clinical is what suited best.

And I am not surprised. We seem to have a similar mind, on...some things. A way of thinking. Birds eye, as it were. Detaching and knowing that release is still needed.

[doandordie]

I've seen men drive themselves mad trying to detach from their basic needs. It would be even less practical in this environment. Detrimental, even.

[He tilts his glass watching the liquid slide along the edges before taking another slow drink and giving Hux a second, more thorough look. Assessing to the best of his abilities. Making a mental map of expectations and assumptions.

Hux would not be wrong at all in his own assumptions. The extra barrier would not only be welcome, but enjoyable.]

It takes a certain mindset. [He agrees, and swallows his thoughts on semantics with another easy drink.]

It does make things like this easier, provided we can loosen our grips enough to actually seek it out.

[neutronium]

If they have such need, then they should find a way to give into it. But here, yes, it is detrimental.

[Finishes his drink; he hasn't removed his shirt of course; that's for Cassian to do.

Hux always has enjoyed semantics; but he knows many don't. He's a rare creature in that way.

Still--]

Ah, yes. It all depends on who is holding the leash. Ourselves, or someone else.

[He gestures, chin going up slightly.]

Come over here and remove my shirt.

[Cassian will find a lean, trim figure; Hux has gained a bit more muscle since arriving here, but he'll always be a lanky creature.]

[doandordie]

[He sets his glass aside, standing up when Hux shifts the conversation. He doesn't slide his shirt the rest of the way off, leaving it hanging open for the moment and deciding to let things play out with Hux giving direction.

Cassian also needed control, to such an extent that his best friend was a programmable droid, but there was a divide for him between the control he needed in his life, and the mindset he put himself in when he stepped away from that. When he was in control during sex he was in total control. When he let go, he let go of as much as he could allow himself to.

He stops less than a foot from Hux, his hands slipping up along the tie, loosening it to free the shirt collar, but not removing it. He starts at the top, his eyes lingering on Hux's neck rather than his eyes while he loosens each button with efficiency and ease.

When he's done he slips it off Hux's shoulders and lays it out on the dresser. It's only when the shirt is fully gone he allows himself to appreciate that Hux looks good under all the fabric. They're not that different, though Cassian is only a bit broader set, less lanky and covered in numerous blaster and blade scars.]

Some leashes are easier to take. [Like the temporary one he was giving Hux, to an extent.]

[neutronium]

Especially if they are of our own making.

[After all, Cassian wants the leash held. He is pleased to see that the other man can care for his shirt, instead of doing something horrible with it, like tossing it away.

Once he's closer, Hux brings his gloved hands up, pressing them flat against Cassian's chest, moving them slowly upwards until he is using them to push off the other man's shirt from the shoulders, downwards, making as much contact as possible.

One complete, he holds the shirt out.]

Take care of this neatly, then stand before me in the exact place you are now, please.

[doandordie]

[It takes little effort for Cassian to comply, his shirt folded and set aside near Hux's. He finds his place back where he had been before, down to the placement of his feet, and studies Hux, awaiting his next instructions.

His skin was covered in scars, clear evidence of a harrowing life and a lack of resources for extensive, quick recovery from injuries that had left lasting marks. An criss-crossed storyboard of every shot, every slice, every fall and misfortune that he had encountered in his twenty years fighting an unending war.

It was a toss up for Cassian, on what he preferred when it came to his sexual encounters. At times he was the one in control. Other times he gave that control up with the expectation that his partners would provide the distraction he needed.

Hux was a man who liked control down to the very choice of words he bothered to use, and seemed to be experienced in having it. Cassian was willing to take that risk.]

[neutronium]

[Hux is good; he hides how hot he finds it that Cassian can even place his feet in the right place. Losing control is a thing for himself, as well--but he never gets to do that, any longer. He has given up on the idea that he will ever get to do that, in truth. The best he can do is to exert the consensual push and pull against another.

He sees the scars, catalogs them. He has his own, faint and careful, but nothing like Cassian's. His had been treated with Bacta, so they didn't stand out--most had disappeared entirely. Btu they existed internally, even if they didn't show.]

What turns you on, Cassian? Tell me.

[Does it matter? Perhaps. Hux's hands slide out, with one cupping his neck, thumb resting along the back of his ear, while the other slid along his chest, fingers brushing along scars, grazing along his waist.]

I can bring out the crop now, but if you didn't enjoy it...well. Such a waste.

[doandordie]

[Cassian scrutinized Hux a long moment, appraising him without looking away from his eyes, contemplating the question and searching for the right words to make what he expected, what he had needed, clear. He was a complicated man, but his needs were far less complex. A distraction. Something to occupy his mind fully enough that the war, Scarif, the Empire, the city's mysteries would all fall away and leave him just a man in a room with another person, trading tension, drive, and purpose for diversion, satisfaction, and release.

The idea of the crop didn't exactly thrill him, though it was not from a disinterest in pain. The light touch on his neck was something he could focus on, though, and he tilted his head to the side and back, pressing the touch deeper into his skin.]

It depends on how you intend to use it. Are you relying on it to do the work, or putting it to use to compliment your own actions?

You have the control here, I want to see if you know what to do with it. Show me you can handle it. Put me to use. Make me want to bend to your will or force me to. The path you choose to do so by is your decision.

[He emphasized his words by taking a step forward, trapping Hux between himself and the wall, his hand flat on the surface to the side of Hux's head. A challenge. One he had a feeling Hux would either enjoy rising to, or end it over.

Cassian had not found himself particular in what turned him on. It was about taking himself or his partner out of their own heads that he enjoyed. Watching someone come apart, or being taken apart himself, though he had been known to enjoy a simple, quick fuck now and then when time was short or he couldn't find the right sort of people to be part of it.]

[neutronium]

[Hux rolls his eyes absently, his fingers pressing against Cassian's artery, just enough that bloodflow should be staunched slightly, to cause some light-headedness. As if he would ever let something do the work. Even if Cassian doesn't know him to know that--perhaps the other man wants to push it, to get this reaction. His face only quirks a little, lips pursing with a hint of displeasure. ]

I've always liked the edge between and need.

[Between force and a desire to do. That is what goes on non-sexually with his storm-troopers, after all. He allows the press of himself against the wall for a moment, tilting his head to regard Cassian. There is something electric about him, rebellious. It's something he hasn't felt in a while...he's missed it.

Still, tightens the hand on Cassian's neck again, and starts to push back, heading towards the bed, now, keeping his pressure sure and careful. Along the way he grabs is small toy bag, tossing it onto the bed for easier access. Once they reach that, though, edges Cassian back towards the edge, releasing his throat, finally.]

On your knees, hands behind your back.

[No touching, Cassian.]