
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7712425.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars_Episode_VII:_The_Force_Awakens_(2015)
  Relationship:
      Armitage_Hux/Kylo_Ren, Armitage_Hux/Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren
  Character:
      Armitage_Hux, Ben_Solo_|_Kylo_Ren, Phasma_(Star_Wars), Poe_Dameron, Finn_
      (Star_Wars), Rey_(Star_Wars), Dopheld_Mitaka, Thanisson_(Star_Wars),
      Rodinon_(Star_Wars), Bala-Tik, Snoke_(Star_Wars), Chewbacca
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Hux_is_a_horny_little_fucker, Alternate_Universe_-_High
      School, Alternate_Universe_-_Basketball
  Series:
      Part 5 of The_Basketball_Diaries
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-08 Words: 2239
****** #13 ******
by the_fluff_awakens
Summary
     The guy is massive, there’s no other way to describe him—all thick
     limbs and broad shoulders and wide chest—and Hux would have
     questioned his eligibility to play for a high school team had it not
     been for the innocent face underneath those thick dark curls. On a
     narrow mole-speckled face bracketed by enormous ears, round brown
     eyes stare back at him, straddling a high, slightly curved nose, and
     a pouty mouth that should frankly be illegal on a minor. The kid—and
     really, with a face like that, Hux can’t help refer to him as
     such—bites his lower lip, and Hux forgets to breathe for a few
     seconds.
     “Doph, who’s that beast?”
     “Which one?”
     "Number 13."
     ---
     The first time Brandon Hux lays eyes on Ben Solo, he's overcome with
     fantasies that involve more than just facing off on the basketball
     court.
     Prequel to Sweeter_Than_Heaven_and_Hotter_Than_Hell.
Notes
     I started this series before Hux's name was "announced" so he's
     staying 'Brandon' throughout this whole series. :)
See the end of the work for more notes
 
 
 
Hux is sitting on the floor of the (frankly abysmal) gym of New Hope Public
High School. The bleachers look rickety and unsafe, the team benches mere slabs
of wood that look to have been tacked on together by a freshman student
fumbling their way through their first shop class, and the orange and white
paint coating the whole room is chipped and faded. The school’s name printed in
the center of the hardwood floor has either been tampered with by pranksters,
or has just been the victim of unfortunate events that have led to it reading
‘New Hope Pub ic’. Hux is doing his best to avoid looking at the name, not
wanting to dissolve into a fit of giggles like the rest of his teammates have
been doing since their arrival. None of them are new, they have all played on
this court, but they are all apparently juvenile enough that the novelty of the
thing still hasn’t worn off.
They are about to have their first game against their school’s supposed rival.
Placed in the same district and less than half an hour’s drive away from each
other, New Hope Public and First Order Prep have predictably developed a
somewhat precarious relationship. Town events turn into impromptu competitions,
with teachers and students, alike, acting antagonistically around each other.
Malls and cafes have informal NHP and FOP zones, something Hux had openly
scoffed at the first time he and Phasma had gotten bullied out of a perfectly
good bench outside an arcade called Triple Gs at the mall by two orange-and-
white-clad guys Hux had recognized as the then NHP JV team captain and their
shooting guard, and one petite girl who played for their women’s team. He would
have preferred to stand their ground, both he and Phasma had been taller than
both boys, and frankly, she could have probably taken them all on her own.
Instead, she’d simply smiled and dragged Hux away, and he’d allowed it. He had
been enjoying a rather good cup of coffee, and he would have been sad to waste
it on a smug little runt’s face.
The NHP players start straggling into the gym, Hux’s narrowed eyes following
the two guys who’d had the audacity to kick them out of a public bench two
years ago. He hasn’t forgotten the incident one bit, every basket he makes
against them like a little ‘up yours’ to these particular players, but Phasma
can barely recall it now. He suspects she’s being deliberately obtuse every
time he mentions it because she fancies the tiny girl who’d silently stood with
the guys at the mall, eating her ketchup-soaked onion rings and smirking at
Phasma.
Hux catches Dameron’s eyes as he bends at the waist to reach the tip of his
sneaker. The point guard smirks, watching him, and Hux rolls his eyes in
answer, spotting the hulking figure of a broody-looking player walking behind
the team captain. The guy is massive, there’s no other way to describe him—all
thick limbs and broad shoulders and wide chest—and Hux would have questioned
his eligibility to play for a high school team had it not been for the innocent
face underneath those thick dark curls. On a narrow mole-speckled face
bracketed by enormous ears, round brown eyes stare back at him, straddling a
high, slightly curved nose, and a pouty mouth that should frankly be illegal on
a minor. The kid—and really, with a face like that, Hux can’t help refer to him
as such—bites his lower lip, and Hux forgets to breathe for a few seconds.
The NHP players shuffle to their side of the court, and Hux’s eyes follow them.
Still bent forward and grasping his shoe, he nudges Mitaka next to him with his
free elbow.
“Doph, who’s that beast?”
“Which one,” Mitaka asks, hugging one knee against his chest and eyeing the NHP
team.
“Number 13,” Hux says, smirking when the guy looks over one massive shoulder to
look back at them. The kid spots Hux and Mitaka watching him, promptly grows
red in the face then goes back to doing his own stretches.
“Oh, Ben Solo, I think,” Mitaka says, nodding his head before Hux can react to
the name. “Yes, son of Han Solo, nephew of Luke Skywalker.”
“A legacy, then,” Hux says, getting up and stretching his arms. “Is he as good
as his dad and uncle?”
“I’ve never actually seen him play, he’s apparently been living with Skywalker
in Japan this whole time, but rumor has it he’s a great defender.”
“Hmm,” Hux hums, eyes still watching the new kid’s back as those broad
shoulders start to get pink. When Solo reaches up and ties his hair into a
small bun, Hux has to look away; he has a fondness for guys with long hair in
small buns. He lets his eyes travel down the kid’s body instead, eyebrows
rising in appreciation at the not-so-small-buns right below his thick waist.
“We’ll see about that.”
Mitaka snickers next to him, grabbing a ball from a nearby rack and nodding
towards their side of the court.
“Come on, then,” he says, walking towards the hoop. “How about giving the new
kid a little preview of what he’ll be up against in a bit?”
===============================================================================

The rumors weren’t rumors; the new kid is a great defender, quite possibly the
best one Hux has ever played against. Although he’s just a few inches taller
than Hux, Solo’s arms are long, his hands are big, and his lips are
distracting—so much so that Hux has missed several baskets by the end of the
first half. Although he still has the most points out of all the players from
both teams, Hux is beating himself up for those misses, grumbling to himself
and shaking his head as he looks up at the scoreboard. Their lead is
uncomfortably small at 23-18.
Rodinon walks next to him on their way to the bench, leaning so close that
their shoulders touch as he whispers something about the new kid being a
formidable opponent. Hux wants to push him away, tell him they’re not friends
and that he should keep out of his personal space, but that isn’t exactly team
captain-material. Instead, he just nods his head and quickens his pace.
Coach Snoke mirrors Hux’s disappointment in himself, berating him for letting
the new guy affect his game this much. His teammates all seem to find their
shoes interesting as they avoid his eyes, brows furrowing with every scalding
reprimand directed at their captain.
“You’ve grown complacent, boy, and that C on your chest hasn’t even been there
that long,” Snoke snaps, grabbing his clipboard to finally discuss their
tactics for the next half. “It can still be transferred to Mitaka’s chest, you
know,” he adds, a sadistic smile spreading over his face.
Mitaka’s eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly when Hux
looks at him, as if he could actually refuse anything Snoke demands of him.
Fueled by Snoke’s (as well as his own) anger, Hux starts the third quarter more
focused on the game, and determined not to let Solo’s unconventionally
attractive face affect him. When he’s passed the ball and Solo’s hand brushes
against his lower back, he ignores its warmth and size against his own small
waist and twists around to face him instead. He steps to the right and bounces
the ball to his left hand between his legs, faking to the left to bait Solo,
who predictably takes a step to his right, hand reaching for the ball, when Hux
crosses over, bouncing the ball back to his right hand and leaving Solo behind.
Solo turns around, arm extended overhead, but it’s too late. His teammates on
the bench cheer even before he sinks the three.
Normally, Hux would gloat, maybe toss a smirk Solo’s way, or at least watch the
befuddlement on his face, but he’s tuned out all of that. There’s a zone, and
as if on command, Hux is able to get on it quite easily. The rest of the game
is pretty much the same, and it’s made even easier whenever Solo isn’t guarding
him. During one possession towards the end of the third quarter, the NHP
center, Wexley, actually falls on his ass attempting to guard him when he has
to basically stumble backwards when Hux takes a large step, only to step back
again and shoot a jumper right over him.
As good as Hux is when he’s in the zone, FOP’s defense can be pretty shite, and
Malone, NHP’s shooting guard, Dameron and Solo all manage to keep adding to
their own scoreboard. At the start of the last quarter, Rodinon steals the
ball, tossing it to Hux who goes on a fast break down to their side of the
court, closely followed by Dameron on his right. He bounces the ball behind
him, catches it with his left hand, and, spotting Solo right in front of him
under the basket, tosses the ball over his shoulder back to Rodinon.
Rodinon, being the show-off that he is, leaps into the air and dunks the ball,
landing right in front of Solo. He flexes his arms and gets in Solo’s face,
screaming like a mad man, never mind that it’s only his second basket of the
game. Hux and the rest of the players can only watch as Solo goes red in the
face as Rodinon mutters something under his breath and before anyone can do
anything about it, he grabs Rodinon’s jersey roughly then pushes against his
chest hard, making him slide across the floor on his ass. Both benches explode
in a flurry of activity, players and coaches swarming around them as Solo makes
to dive for Rodinon. Wexley and their assistant coach grab him, Dameron and
Malone blocking him as Rodinon is held back by Thanisson and Tik.
Hux watches as Solo practically foams at the mouth, yelling all sorts of
obscenities at Rodinon and struggling against the hands around him. Solo’s face
is red, his eyes are blown, he’s panting heavily, and Hux? Well, Hux is
standing there in the middle of the court, astounded as he pictures that same
intense look under an extremely different scenario, complete with roaming
hands, biting teeth and sweaty skin.
The new kid gets escorted out of the gym by the assistant coach and Coach Snoke
understandably appoints Hux to take the awarded free throws for Solo’s
technical foul, which he obviously makes. None of it matters, though, because
with Solo out of the game, Hux pretty much has free reign on the court, and the
game soon ends with a twelve-point deficit.
Hours later, standing under the hot spray of his own shower at home, he touches
himself while thinking of the new kid. He closes his eyes, imagines the hand
stroking his cock is much larger, with thick fingers and a wide palm. He runs
his free hand over his chest, brushes his nipple softly and whimpers as he
pictures a pink tongue licking at him. He starts panting heavily as the
imagined hand around his leaking cock transforms into the most beautiful plush
mouth he’s ever seen, pink and strained around his erection. Biting his lips,
his hand travels up to his head, pretending his fingers are tugging on thick
black waves instead of his own ginger hair. Fucking his own hand has never felt
this good before. A pair of round brown eyes looking up at him hungrily flashes
in his head and his groans are loud as he spills over his fingers, hips bucking
up and down erratically at every twist of his palm.
He watches his come dissolve into the water before spiraling down the drain
between his feet, his hand still wringing his softening cock. If he doesn’t let
up, he’s going to drop to his knees, but he can’t help but chase the sensation
anyway.
He touches himself in bed again that night, and again the following morning. He
starts masturbating every chance he gets, like he’s thirteen years old again,
discovering the wanton pleasures of self-gratification for the first time. His
visions become more and more vivid, growing more elaborate as weeks go by. He
imagines driving his cock inside a massive body, thrusting faster and harder at
the image of angry eyes, red cheeks and a panting mouth, and he spills under
his thick comforter. He pictures bracing himself on his forearms against
bathroom tiles, back arched and sweaty, pushing his hips back and forth as he
takes in a thick long cock (everything else about the guy is thick and long,
why should his cock be any different?) up his stretched-out ass, and his come
splatters against his bathroom wall. Never mind that it’s 3:30 in the afternoon
on a Sunday. He simply zips up his pants, washes his hands, and goes to meet
his parents for tea.
From the moment Hux first laid eyes on Ben Solo, his fantasies have been
overwhelming, but not nearly satisfying enough, so that when he sees the star
of his mental spank bank roaming the FOP halls the following school year hours
before the state championships, he stashes a bottle of lube and a packet of
condom in his locker.
Just in case. Just to be safe. Just to be sure.
 
 
 
End Notes
     You can find the mood board here.
     Come find me on tumblr.
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