Zip me, Kylux (Ren dressing Hux, because those skinny shoulders will be the death of me). Thanks!
[ Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character dressing another, or the other way around ]
There was a ritual to this, as there was a ritual to almost every part of their life, now that Hux had the throne and the galaxy at his feet.
There were those, Nabooian high family members who’d been brought in as advisers and dismissed or disposed of almost immediately, who insisted that Hux should have servants for this, that there should be eight or nine people tasked with the care of the Emperor’s body and the preservation of his dignity.
But even if Hux had not clung tight to the unplumbed depths of his paranoia he would not have needed should trappings.
He stepped from the bath, water sluicing from his body to follow the intricate patterns cut into the floor tiles, sigils of prosperity and health that Kylo had drawn in himself across every inch of the Emperor’s personal quarters.
At his feet Kylo knelt, towel in hand and water failing to soak the fabrics of his robes. He dried his Emperor with gentle fingers that still trembled slightly after all these years. He took pains to ensure the remains of the nights activities were washed from his thighs. With exquisite care he painted healing creams across the scars on ribs and belly, following every stroke this soft reverential lips. Thick strong fingers were nonetheless gentle as they eased glittering oil through beard and across scalp, and became teasing for a just a moment as they ventured across other, less public, locks.
The Emperor smiled and pressed a kiss to his Knight’s brow even as he pushed him away. No time. Not for any more than this.
Hux strode into the dressing room, eying his reflection with a critical gaze, thumb wandering briefly across the scar under his stomach.
“You don’t eat enough to be concerned with that, my liege.” His Knight’s deep voice rumbled as the warrior sank once again to his knees, holding out one of the soft golden socks that would begin his wardrobe.
Kylo had chosen the glittering white and gold uniform in advance, picking out one with a cut that would highlight his Emperor’s long slim lines and epaulettes to disguise the narrow span of the shoulders that were only ever Kylo’s to see.
Socks were smoothed delicately over calves and slacks were eased gently up over softer thighs than most might expect. Kylo faltered, pausing to press a kiss to the lightly furred juncture between thigh and hip, nuzzling the clean skin as he stared adoringly up at his Emperor.
“Later.” Hux murmured with a tolerant smile.
Standing then, Kylo shifted around to press close to the slim, freckled back, watching over one delicate shoulder as his own large scarred hands buttoned the rich white cloth over the Emperor’s secret nudity. Another thing that was only for him to see.
The silk undershirt followed, and Hux sighed, relaxing against his Knight as the massive span of his palms enclosed his shoulders and smoothed compulsively down over delicate, waifish arms.
Hux set his hair then, ignoring the giant of a man plastered against his spine and the fingers roving unchecked across his torso.
“You say that of everything.”
“I speak the truth, my liege.”
The jacket was held up then, the slightly padded bulk of body armour settled carefully into place with Kylo’s tightlipped exactitude while Hux fussed with medals and aiguillettes.
Finally satisfied he ran a critical eye over his Knight before turning them both towards the mirror.
“Beautiful.” The word came out of both mouths simultaneously and Kylo grinned at Hux’ slight self-conscious blush.
“Time to face the Galaxy, Bren.” Kylo said, offering an elbow.
Hux grabbed the hand of the offered arm and tucking through his own crooked elbow. “And with you in your proper place I’m ready to face anything.”
