Disrupting Routine
Often times you awoke in a bed with the shared occupancy of only yourself and Millicent nestled in the crook of your legs. Even through your groggy haze, you would sweep your arm across the cold satin at your side, searching for the warmth that hadn't been there in quite sometime. When the heavy veil of sleep finally lifted from your eyes, you always found the adjacent spot pristine, meticulously smooth and tucked tightly enough that even your fitful slumber didn't disturb the sheets.
You laid there awake, gliding your hand across in practiced motions over the sheets, creating a visible trail where your fingers once were before you blurred it out with quick swipe. Millicent roused at that point, chirping a greeting when you peeked down your body at her. She was always a far less considerate than yourself and readily trotted across the sheets towards your face, bumping her head against you.
As tranquil as the scene was, you only wished for Hux to be there to treasure those sweet moments with you as well. But, you were well aware entering your relationship with the General that it would be rather unorthodox. He wouldn't be there to hold you as you jolted awake from your night terrors, screaming and trembling, utterly afraid. There weren't many opportunities to see him during the day, either.
Hux was a man constantly in motion, he seemed like a machine that could run forever on willpower and his priorities towards the First Order. Always aiming to be the epitome of perfection, sometimes you found the satisfaction of being in his presence just by observing his morning routines. If you didn't know any better, you would've believed it if someone told you that you were constantly reliving the same scene every day.
There were a few occasions when you had caught him looking at you from where he stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his hair into position or fastening the front of his uniform dexterously. Your gut would do somersaults, your heart would drum a deafening beat.
You were an absolutely pitiful sight. Worse yet, you held firm to the notion that in those moments there was a detectable flash of conflict on his face. His lips twitched, pulling into the slightest frown while the lines between his eyes seemed to deepen more. Surely, there was a part of him that wished he didn't have to live by his commitments to the Order. Wouldn't he be happier if he didn't have follow routine that smothered him?
Wouldn't he be happier if he could spend the morning with you in his arms?
It was those thoughts that clawed around your mind until the following night. They pervaded your mind, serving as a distraction even when your back was pressed flush against the wall, Hux's lips meshing roughly against your own while he stripped away layers of your robes. The doors to his quarters had yet to fully shut.
Your thoughts were considerably less coherent as the night went on, lost in the white fog in your mind and the hushed cries, the ragged breathing, how the sheets made a sound and wrinkled with your rhythmic movements. The high dissipated and your body went lax as you pressed against him, threading your legs together.
You were still awake when he drifted off, resting your head below his chin as you listened to his quiet breathing and traced delicate patterns across his chest. He was always a far more agreeable man during the late hours, once the stress anchored on his shoulders melted away. The lines between his brows and the firm line in which he kept his lips firm were far softer, he was less intimidating as he slept.
In a way, it filled you with a sense of pride seeing him this vulnerable when few others ever had. It was a luxury reserved for you alone. Selfishly, however, you wouldn't give anyone else that privilege.
The languid motions of your fingertips met a brief pause as Hux's throat rumbled and he called out your name, grasping your hand beneath his to press the palm of your hand flat against his stomach. You lolled your head to the side, angling your gaze to see his face where he did the same.
