#this basically turned into a drabble. enjoy some k*lux for the holidays.

[cruoren]

the simplest notion of politics is this:   sitting in a room, around a table, waiting for someone to blink first.    it is as much a craft as any other and the supreme leader has not the patience for it, though he had been making steady efforts to school himself in tolerance following his ascension, plainly to uphold the institution, behind which is himself, exploiting its might, therefore to uphold himself. his mind’s eye divulges ten corpses for the oval of seated dignitaries, sentence passed with the mere crook of his fingers — he forces the endearing sight away and heeds the diplomat speaking, a glance stolen toward the small projected name tag. subconsciously, he finds an anchor in @acharnemcnt's composed force aura, which soothes his own wild one.

❝ we will direct the allotted funds toward the military units. ❞    he drawls eventually when the topic of budgetary concerns is brought up. one unit had recently been lost between the teeth and claws of a wild beast on kalsunor, in a quest for a lost sith artefact. another had suffered losses when he had miscalculated a route to a hidden planet. they serve a purpose beyond him, which is easy to forget in the throes of his agenda. with increased rebel activity targeting their strongholds in the outer rim, necessitating a parallel increase in militant enforcement, ren thinks he will have to mind his wastefulness. the sentiment had been echoed by the officials whose planets are concerned, though it is done so in that ornate way of politicians, saying everything and nothing at all. no one dares, of course, to challenge his word directly.

the chancellor’s caress over the dark fabric covering his leg is non-tangible, ren assumes when it first happens. an imagined thing woven of tedium, but his blood flutters and he knows it’s real, an elusive act, covertly tucked away beneath the table where their guests cannot espy. he cannot comprehend the action, at first. the heart is a muscle like the rest and it atrophies with disuse — the warmth that seeps betwixt the ribs is wildfire, swift and scorching, burning through the blood and blazing within the tendons. the muscle of his thigh twitches beneath the touch as the hand moves up, languidly, lingering, rubbing circles into the skin beneath the fabric. his jaw clenched, ren does not turn toward the chancellor for fear of the nonchalance he'll see etched into the man's features, the facade hux wears as an ensemble.

and what of the welfare campaigns? one of the diplomats inquires. another inquires into the construction of educational facilities for the youth, as well as medical centres.

it is a testament to ren's newfound patience that he maintains his composure and austerity, the imposing figure he presents, masking the fervour as agitated boredom, as though the conference and everyone within it were beneath him and he was merely eager to leave. 

❝ a quarter of the funds, that is, ❞    the supreme leader rectifies, masquerading the correction as clarification, as fingers drum against the holopad atop the tabletop in front of him, throwing a cursory look over the texts, recalling something about the outer rim and the planets there whose misery under the new republic had been easier to mould into support for the first order. he had not spared much care for the chancellor’s programme, though his interest in it had been ignited now, in a way.     ❝ and divert the rest to the proposed initiatives. ❞   

instead of easing the agony, the hand moves upward still, provoking. ren doesn’t turn to look, though he can sense the triumphant amusement through the force, as it ripples in waves from his companion, who is no doubt enjoying tormenting him. violence and desire are lovers, and for a split moment, ren wishes to snap his wrist to save himself the affront. he clenches his fist instead.

there is a noise trapped at the back of his throat, and he has to lean back to swallow it, shooting hux a warning scowl. the coy look he finds there has him reeling, the subtle provocation alighting a coiling thrill. with eyes on him he clears his throat,    ❝ the chancellor is eager to elaborate, i'm certain, as he put forth the motion to begin with. ❞    were it anyone else, he would not care for the display nor would it rouse him — but touch is sparse between him and his ally, a foreign novelty they do not indulge in. he has to wonder if this is endorsement or chastisement.  

chancing a look at the time, ren laments the remainder.

                                                             &.

the conference hall is stilled to silence at the supreme leader’s wordless behest, and as the officials took their leave, thus shroud by his shadow upon rising. in the adjournment of the conference, ren is at last left privy to his own considerations, and the ashes of allure which still flutter within him, in the scorched terrain of his heart. allure and anger, an irritation induced by the indignity of the ordea, that audacious caress that had turned his thoughts to smoke.

ren cards a hand through his hair, uncoiling the neat curls into dishevelment.

the chancellor makes a remark, and ren’s temper snaps, torn off its hinges. he knows the man plays him, in theory, and had been cautioned as much by karitza, though observing the conduct in practice is not unlike looking for snakes under stones, a straining effort that he does not bother to descry further. this display had been overt. bold, bolder still considering the relevance of the discussion. it leaves ren questioning the meaning, the idea, the intent — political discussions between them often possess more tact and sensibility, and in the presence of others they are never so intrepid in their arrangement. he doesn’t entertain the notion that it was a genuine gesture, because nothing between them ever is, nor can he imagine the chancellor to have been suffering the same bouts of boredom he had been, because that would unravel the statuesque figure of his husband into flesh and bone. this is an alliance that cannot afford to be compromised by sentiment.

❝ did you think i would overlook your little display? ❞ even through the blaze of ardour, ren’s arm comes to soften the manoeuvre, one gloved hand braced against the wall to which he has hux pinned, chest–first, the other holding him in place by his waist. the hold is loose enough that hux can slip away with ease if he so wishes, but ren implores him to stay with his gloved hand descending lower, grasping his hip through the fabrics. an animal’s hunger starves him and makes a creature of him in turn; he has long learnt to control base impulses, a stratified numbing of the mind and body to douse the debauchery that blazes in the being. his mind whirls this time, wild, and he cannot.

❝ you demand of me to behave, ❞   ren murmurs into the shell of hux's ear, teeth lingering, a hint of bared sharpness, breath pooling in the crook between his jaw and neck. the force sways like a caress over his cheek, tracing down to the exposed column of his neck. coarse uniform to fine silk, their flesh does not meet but it does not have to. the proximity does nothing to quell ren’s desires.    ❝ then make it impossible for me to do so. careful, or i'll begin to suspect a ploy. ❞    what he had initially meant as an act of rebuke melts in the fire between them, the tension that drips like molten gold in the minimal space between their two bodies. it lacks the bite of one, the severity, and the note of dalliance in his tone does nothing to sharpen his words either.

in the warm nearness, he steps back, permitting for the man to turn so they may face each other, ren’s chin tipped downward to interlock their eyes. the regret that surges through him is immediate when he feels hux’s gaze on him, undressing him to bone, and his eyes unwittingly flicker down, before he forces them up and takes another step back, crossing his arms over his chest,    ❝ are you satisfied with the concession? ❞    the irritation is evident. the fondness is not, but it is surely there, too. ❝ i’m not. ❞    he retorts after a beat. another step is taken backwards, and soon he’s propped up against the conference table, leaning against the smooth surface with his arms. the cold grounds him and allows him a reprieve, in tandem with a clear mind to facilitate conversation. how simple it had been, to awaken hunger in him. such a small gesture. he loathes to admit it; through sheer will alone, he quells the blood rushing to his face.    ❝ reliance on strength is a safer bet than your schemes; i can secure the outer rim quicker with armies than you will subdue them with policies. ❞

prompt, [thigh touch] during a very important meeting &. [wall slam] amidst argument.