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nymphl · 5 years

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In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 6 - To resent a General

A/N - Hello, sweethearts! Here’s chapter 6 of ITGB. This chapter has a lemony scene, a bit more detailed then the others in this story xD I hope you like this chapter, it’s one of my fav, even more because it entails a bit of shift in this story and what I’m planning for future chapters xD Anyways, thanks for leaving notes and reblogging. I appreciate your feedback very much.

Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: Regency Era; Alternate Universe; Alternate Story; Alternate Universe - Historical; Arranged Marriage; Politics; War; Napoleonic Wars; England - 1815; Married Couple; OOCness; Smut

Wordcount: 7898

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“THREE… TWO… ONE… THERE YOU GO, LITTLE LORD.”

You smiled as Lux positioned his chubby hands over the piano keys and played the brief song you had just taught him. He was a smart kid and learned fast. Part of you would rather if he did not catch onto things so quickly, as to delay his imminent parting as much as possible.

“Well done,” you said, before pressing your lips lightly to his forehead. You knew Rae Sloane was watching everything with her attentive eyes as she read a book in the nearby ottoman. “Well done.”

As he continued to play, you let yourself think of Hux’s words. Of his whispered confession last night.

My damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own.

You remembered you reacted with a loud What? and that you told yourself there was nothing to be surprised about. Brendol Hux would do anything in his power to undermine his own son — flesh, blood… those were notions the previous General did not give a damn about. If he could jeopardize Armitage’s standing, he certainly would.

The very thought made you bit your bottom lip in anger. You did not know which father was worse, if yours — with his prejudice and blatant disregard of women — or Brendol — with his dubious character and… well, you could also say blatant disregard of women and his own flesh and blood.

There were days in which you were grateful for having barely interacted with the man himself. And in most of them, you pitied Hux for having had to put up with him for almost three decades.

Bad character aside, Brendol’s actions posed a problem for both of you. Armitage had the money, he just could not use it until…

You sighed.

And recalled Rae’s own words to you.

…give him a damned heir…

Well, it seemed now you had no other choice. It was either give him a damned heir or watch him making a deal with Lady Carise — the devil herself. Borrowing money from a banker was completely out of the picture.

“Mama… Mama!”

You were startled as Lux’s voice reached you. He had placed both of his tiny hands on your face, directing your attention to him. The piano keys — his recent fixation — completely forgotten.

“I am terribly sorry, Little Lord. I am…” You stopped yourself before you could lie. Rae cast a glance at you from her book, eyes narrowed. “Very much distracted today.”

He nodded, but his face hid nothing of his disappointment. You chewed your bottom lip; overcome with guilty, but feeling your mind racing with possibilities all the same. You had to find a way to get you out of this situation — to repay for his… understanding. To name it as kindness would be a bit too much.

The fact is… Hux had a meeting with his investors today — one in which he would be accompanied by Lord Mitaka — and only God could know what their reaction would be as soon as they knew how little profit the Arkanis Brewery would give them in the next few months — it is, if Hux found a way to pay for his debts. You admitted that in such devastating scenario, the was the fastest and safest way to get out of this predicament, without leading him to compromise his candidacy for Prime Minister, would be to accept Lady Carise’s money.

Nevertheless, you would have no way out if you did not get pregnant soon. Well, needless to say you were trying, but there had to be something else — something faster and precise — that could be done.

With a defeated sigh, you messed his ginger hair. He ran his fingers through his tresses and stared at you with a scowl — to which you did your best to muffle your laughter. He was just too adorable when he was mad!

“Mama! And Lord Hux?”

“What about Lord Hux, Little Lord?” You pressed a lovingly kiss to his cherub cheeks and watched with amusement as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was indeed mad at you.

Rae Sloane cast a glance at you; one that showed that in spite of her disapproval of Lux’s inappropriate behavior, she was still at least a bit amused with his frustration.

“The violin, Mama!”

Ah yes…

He had been talking excitedly for a good few minutes — a few days now — about Hux’s violin — you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact Lux had actually seen his uncle playing the instrument. It had been years since you last saw him near it — and you barely heard anything he said.

You sighed.

“I know you want to play violin, but listen to me, I myself don’t know how to play it and I’m not sure Lord Hux has the time to teach you.”

His face fell.

It was obvious he had developed some sense of… admiration to your husband. He worshiped him — honestly, Lux was a very lonely child and he had the tendency of looking up to anyone who paid him a measly few minutes of attention.

You left the bench and kneeled in front of him, adjusting his clothes and bringing him closer to you by his waistcoat.

“But I can keep teaching you how to play the piano.”

He smiled. Begrudgingly, but he did.

“Now?”

You were ready to answer the both of you should get ready to have lunch and later — after you got some well needed time to send a message to your contact in The Times — you could teach him a thing or two about the piano, but you were interrupted by the sound of someone opening the door of the drawing room.

Looking up, you were surprised to see your husband crossing the threshold. The boy beamed up as he saw Hux and he quickly left your embrace to run towards his new idol.

You rolled your eyes.

“I want your violin.”

“Lux Dameron!” Rae admonished him; her voice was harsh and hid nothing of her disapproval. “That’s no proper way to ask for anything.”

He lowered his head, ashamed and muttering a small, feeble apology. You could barely hear him saying I’m sorry, Lord Hux.

Armitage, however, did not seem to mind the boy’s lack of etiquette. Blue eyes focused on you — and the intensity of his stare made you shiver; it felt as if he could read your thoughts and what you were planning… or thinking about planning… —, he dismissed Lux’s apology, “I’ll teach you how to play it one of these days.”

Lux looked up at him with adoration in his chestnut eyes. Your husband was doing a hell of good job of turning the boy against you and Rae. Firstly, he promised to teach him how to ride a horse and now… he promised violin lessons.

With a sharp intake of breath, Rae fixed her dark eyes on him, making Lux hide behind Hux’s long legs.

“Really?”

Hux nodded, dismissing Rae’s stare as if it meant nothing. You wondered how many times she terrorized him in his childhood — and how many times she did not act on those stares, if Hux treated it so lightly. “Now, you must go with Lady Rae and get ready for lunch.”

“Yes!”

He was so excited at the prospect of spending more time with Hux, he paid Rae little to no attention — a fatal mistake if your memory did not fail you; Rae would probably ground him for the entire week and only you knew how terrible Lux’s mood got whenever he was banned from visiting the stables and his beloved friend horses, but at the moment, he did not seem to even remember how devilish Lady Sloane could be.

Accepting her hand, he followed her out of the drawing room humming to a childish song. You were ready to trail after them, when you felt your husband’s hand enclosing around your wrist.

“I never allowed you to leave, Lady Hux.”

A happy sigh left you as he brought your body closer to his and his lips fell upon yours in a slow, seductive kiss. He entangled his fingers in your hair — and if he did not know how to drive you mad with want, you would have scolded him for undoing your perfect hairdo — and angled your head for his better pleasure; his tongue running enticingly over the rim of your lips.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, and then slowly sliding them into his ginger locks — you almost expected him to trap your hands between his, but this time he did not seem to mind a disheveled appearance —, you gladly let him in, stroking your own tongue boldly against his.

He let you go after what seemed a good few minutes and pressed a kiss to your temples. You fought to reign in your breathing as he lowered his forehead to yours.

“I know what you’re thinking…” You wetted your lips nervously. “He isn’t a Dameron and you dislike seeing him being addressed as such.”

There was a minute of silence as you caressed his face.

“No. He isn’t,” he replied as he put some space between the two of you.

A tired sigh left your lips.

You could have pointed out he could never be a Hux — not if he wanted to become Prime Minister in the near future — and that he once hated his family name, but you understood what he meant. After Brendol passed away, the name Hux gained a new face: his — and later on yours —, and with it a new blank chapter; one he was willing to write differently, for the sake of his new family. And Lux is family.

Part of you wondered if the desire to recognize Lux as family came from the desire to right his father’s — and yours too — wrongs. If not for you and Rae, his fate would be… probably worse than Hux’s.

However, you both knew that if anyone just dreamed about Lux being his nephew and your little brother it would be the end of his aspirations. Your standing in the town would be compromised and no sane King would approve of him as the Head of the Parliament. And that position meant a great deal to Hux.

You walked to him, until you invaded his personal space.

“Would you rather if he were your son?” you whispered against his lips, but as soon as the words were out, you realized how stupid that question was.

He chose silence.

You swallowed.

“How did it go?” you said, trying to change the topic and get some control over the situation. “What did the board say?”

It was all it took for him to break apart. Again.

You pursed your lips, trying not to let his actions get to you so easily. It was obvious he did not like to be further inquired on his meeting with his investors. It must have gone horribly if he was so against talking about it. That… or he did not like to talk about business at all.

Part of you understood where he came from. Most husbands did not talk to their wives about… Well, they simply did not talk. Most wives were there just for the show. Very few of them ran their estates and even fewer understood about business and politics. Even if they were interested in such topics, it was expected of them to shy away from them. Except for the Ton politics, noble ladies… Wealthy families, it is… they did not — should not — waste their precious time with the intricacies of business and income… They just… spent money as if there was no tomorrow and in case they lost it, well… they simply gained it back through marriages.

An accomplished lady knew about dancing, playing the piano, embroidery… but never about income and basic taxation. And the few men who understood the intricacies of the business world, probably came from the lower classes, working class, as Armitage’s family did. Your father, for one, knew nothing of business. He ran his estate with the same regard he showed your mother: which is to say, almost none. When he realized he spent all his wealth on courtesans back in London, he decided to regain it at the gambling table.

But you were no trophy wife. You refused to be. You would not back down. Sitting beside him on the setee, you took his hand between yours. Slowly, you traced the gold band on his finger.

“What did they say, Armitage?”

He narrowed his eyes at you; a clear warning. You should tread carefully when looking for answers, pressing him would not do. You rolled your eyes. You were not scared in the least.

“We’re not having this conversation, Lady Hux.”

You snorted.

“Well then, Lord Hux, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’ll tell Lady Sindian.”

He inhaled sharply at your words.

“Or you’re not having this conversation with me either?”

“Careful, Lady Hux.”

You knew you were playing with fire, but you were not about to back down. Not now. Not ever. You told him you were in this for real — you told him that if he wanted to be Prime Minister, he would need you and you stood by that. If he wanted to get out of this debt, he would have to start trusting you.

If he thought you would not understand about his business, the least he could do is to tell you about how he would approach Lady Sindian. He would have to be smarter than her with his excuses — a simply refusal would not do.

You knew and he knew Lady Carise was dying to get back at your family — at you — for years now. If not having you pressing your father to let you marry Armitage, she probably would be your stepmother now… A Marquise. Having Lord Hux owing her a large sum of money seemed the right way to go. It did not seem to you she would let such matter go that easily. Unless… Unless she had something else in mind to use against the two of you. Something bigger. Something better.

That’s why he would have to be smooth. Lady Carise was not just any woman. Just like you, she did not bow to other men — she did not take no for answer.

You were ready to inquire him further, when you felt him bringing your wrist to his mouth. Your heart quickened as got a brief taste of your skin. A gasp left you as he pulled you to him, forcing you to straddle his hips. His lips quickly found yours in a searing kiss. You knew what he was doing and even though you thoroughly disliked it, you would let him have his secrets.

For now.

You woke up later with a strong headache.

There was no need to look for Hux’s watch-pocket to know it was late afternoon — he had left you spent, and you slept more than you usually did whenever you took an afternoon nap — and that you had gone by without lunch once more. No wonder your head felt like exploding, yet you felt no hungrier than before. To your surprise, he was still by your side. But, this time, instead of relief, you were disappointed.

You left the comfort of his arms and rolled on your back.

“Ugh… Why is it so clear? And who’s playing Schubert?”

As expected, there was no reply from his part. There was no need to. In spite of Rae’s misgivings about the piano, she was quite proficient at it. She put many of the accomplished ladies of the Ton to shame with her skills — after five years living with you and seeing you practice, she became quite fond of the instrument, even though she would not admit it.

Since the two of you disappeared to your chambers before lunch, you imagined she would take it upon herself to keep Lux busy and out of your hair. By now, you thought the poor boy was probably sleeping in the setee, while Rae played to her heart’s content.

You closed your eyes — as if it could relieve the pain and ease the guilt —, but they quickly snapped open when Armitage moved over you, his nose touching yours and his breath caressing your face.

He kissed you.

Slowly.

Sweetly.

A mere brush of lips.

“You worry too much.”

With a gasp, you let him in, stroking your own tongue against his. He let you dominate it — dominate him —, not caring once more that you had slid your hands between his ginger locks. His fingers traveled the extension of your legs lightly, prying them open, so he could slide between them. He did not stop until he reached your hips, applying the slightest of pressures.

The kiss did not last long. He let go of your lips and moved downwards, placing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of exposed skin. Your breath grew heavier as he paid thorough attention to your throat at the same time his hands traveled upwards, in a quest for your breasts.

“We’ll be late for dinner.”

He paid little no regard to what you said. And in spite of what you said, you, too, could not care less about your lateness. Even the melancholic sound of the piano downstairs did not deter you from your quest for the astounding heights of pleasure you could reach together. A moan left you as you tried to move your hips, seeking the much-needed friction. He was so hard, and you were… so ready to take him, you moved your hand from his shoulders and tried to reach his cock… Just to have your wrists trapped. You grunted in disappointment, but he merely lowered his head to your chest and pressed light kisses to the undersides of your breasts. Quite but never touching you were you needed most.

“I won’t beg.”

His lips tilted in the shadow of a knowing smirk.

A gasp escaped you as he placed a small kiss over your nipples. First, on the right breast and then the left. He did not take his time to worship them, however. He kept on lowering his kisses, going past your ribcages, your belly, your navel, till he reached your hipbone.

You pressed your lids together, waiting anxiously for what was to come. For a man who did not enjoy small talk, he surely knew how to put his mouth to better uses than to those of meaningless discourse.

Squirming in his hold, you tried to get your hands free — to fist the sheets, to grab onto his hair —, but he did not allow you to. His lips ghosted over the insides of your thighs — it was so light you could barely feel it. You arched your back, lifting your hips — offering yourself to him. He ran the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“Yes! Gods, yes!”

With a smirk, he drew away. His lips glistening with your wetness. You bit your own bottom lip, frustrated beyond measure.

“You won’t have me begging.”

He ran his lips over your left calf, letting go of your wrists — to which you checked for marks and thanked the old-fashioned use of gloves; the General had a penchant for leaving you marked. With his left hand he held your leg close to his mouth and lazily pumped himself with his right hand.

You inhaled sharply at the sight. It was indeed a feast to the eyes. Armitage knew how to please your every sense — vision, hearing, smell, taste, touch… none was left unattended for too long.

“Touch yourself.”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure. It is not to say that in the five years you were apart, you never sought to pleasure yourself — but to have him watching you was completely different. The intensity in his eyes made you warm all over. Your lids fluttered closed as you reached down, tracing your own thighs, approaching your center very slowly… outlining your lips… testing your wetness… quite but not entering yourself, as you knew he wanted.

“Look at me,” he whispered against your calf; his lips were almost on your knees, kissing the underside of it. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see them when you come.”

His words had you breathing deeply through your nose.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face and then sliding down… to the path of ginger hair leading to his engorged, beautiful shaft… Your mouth watered — you moaned — at the sight of precum oozing from his head.

Under his attentive gaze, you slid one finger inside of you and then a second; the heel of your hand applied a sweet pleasure to your clit. More than once, you thought about closing your eyes — the intensity in his blue orbs too much for you —, but as you lost yourself to the growing pleasure, you realized you could not shift your attention from how he stroked his shaft, timing it to the rhythm of the music. The feel of his lips, inching closer and closer to your center forced you to keep your eyes wide open and focused on him.

As the piece of music reached a crescendo — and you could swear you would never be able to play or listen to Schubert without reliving this very afternoon —, so did his movements — and yours too. Your breath grew heavier, beads of sweat pooled in the valley of your breasts, sliding down your skin. You were close and he knew it.

Armitage lowered himself on the bed and placed one of your legs over his shoulders; your hands were put aside. His heavenly mouth ghosted over your clit, his warm breath making you clench around nothing. This time, the thought of not begging flew off your mind as you uttered a broken please.

With a smug smirk, he took your clit between his lips, sliding two of his fingers inside you. Losing no time, he looked for that sweet spot that would have you singing for him as he worked you towards an earth-shattering orgasm.

As it hit you — just a marvelous, indescribable feeling that had you arching your back off the bed and your eyes filling with unshed tears —, you sought his hair — to keep him in place or to pull him apart; you were so sensitive you thought you could not take any more stimulation —, instead, you felt the fingers of his left hand entwining with yours as he continued to lap at you; allowing you to ride your orgasm fully.

The piece came to a diminuendo and so did the movement of his fingers and his tongue against you, until they completely stopped. A deep, contented sigh left you as you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your legs were trembling; you were so weak you thought that if not for being laid over the mattress you would fall on your knees — exactly like last time when he ate you out against the door of his study. The mere remembrance made your face hot.

With the final notes, he entered you without warning.

Both of you gasped.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth — letting you taste yourself. Part of you expected him to give you a moment to adjust to his size or at least to recuperate from the last orgasm. Instead, he set a punishing rhythm against your hips.

It did not hurt — and even if it did, you learned how to find pleasure in a bit of pain — but you were so sensible, the second wave of pleasure found you without voice. Your nails punctured his flesh as he sought his own release.

He was so worked up, it did not take him long to abandon the timed strokes. His mouth was against your throat, and broken moans and grunts escaped through his opened lips. You brought his hand to your breasts and he kneaded the pearls between his fingers, with his right hand he stroked your clit in a circular movement, to the point you were sobbing.

As your second orgasm came to an end, his own started. He pressed a kiss to your breasts, and you pulled onto his hair till a grimace of pain took over his features — exactly like he enjoyed. He grunted your name; his eyes fell closed as his hips jerked forward one last time.

It felt like ages had gone by as he emptied himself inside you. His lips worshipped the column of your throat and his hand travelled over your thighs in a slow, sensual caress as you both tried to recover.

His breath became normal before yours. He kept on placing small open-mouthed kisses to your glistening skin, whispering words you could not understand — or care less. Your eyes were heavy, and you were so tired all you wanted was to doze off at least a bit. He softened still inside of you, but you were so comfortable in such position, you did not want him to move an inch.

He did not.

“You should get ready.” He captured your lips lightly. You sighed happily. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you, my love,” you whispered against his mouth. You pressed a light kiss to his lips, but he did not kiss you back. Your words had him drawing apart — it was impossible not to be aware that it was all because you addressed him in a novelettish manner.

Armitage slid out of you and sat on his side of the bed.

You bit your bottom lip.

He stared ahead. His mind, however, was distant. You closed your eyes, running your hands over your face, as if it would just erase what you just said; you heavily regretted your form of endearment.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His impossibly blue eyes snapped back to you. He breathed deeply through his nose.

“Think not of it. My mind is just busy.”

His words — so detached — coupled with his facial expression — so perfectly schooled —, made you flinch. You bit your bottom lip, realizing what you did not want to acknowledge before: whenever the two of you made love, his heart was not into it. He enjoyed the physical act to its fullest — he ensured you did too —, but like he said… his mind — and heart — was elsewhere.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and sat on the bed, wrapping the sheets wrapped around your body. You seized the moment to introduce a topic you were dying to discuss with him a while ago.

“We should sell the estate in Southampton.”

His answer came quicker than you expected; his voice firm — not loud or authoritative, “Absolutely not.”

Coupled with how still his body went, you quickly understood he did not want to talk further about the topic. It did not mean you would concede defeat so easily, though.

“Please.”

You sought his fingers. He caught your wrist, running his thumb over your palm. He brought it to his lips, bestowing upon your knuckles a small kiss.

Biting your bottom lip, you focused your attention on his face. The slight tilt of his lips indicated he knew what he was doing to you and what exactly were your thoughts concerning it.

You snatched your hand away, focusing on the present issue. You spent a great deal of the afternoon being distracted — fooled — by him. You dismissed it before, letting him have his way with you, but now, you could not avoid the politics and the sensitive topics concerning his imminent bankruptcy.

“Hear me out.”

“My answer is final, Lady Hux.”

The fact that he did not call you by your name indicated he really did not — and would not — want to discuss such topic any further. Your shoulders slumped, but you did not concede defeat. Not so quickly.

“That’s my house and therefore my decision to make.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. It was obvious he was getting tired of it. Getting tired of your insistence — it was clear he was not in the least inclined to share a few things with you. His business was one of them.

And honestly, he was not wrong. Actually, he was — but not legally speaking. According to British law, you were his property to do as he pleased and talking or not about business as his decision to make. Selling your house was his decision to make — not yours.

How you hated being a woman most of times!

“Armitage.”

“(Y/N)”.

You rolled your eyes. He was going to make this hard for you — he could be very difficult when he wanted to. Displeased, you watched as he rose from the bed and slipped inside his robe. Shoulders down, your mind raced with possible arguments as you waited for him to go fetch his cigar and a glass of brandy.

It was needless to ask for him to pour some for yourself. As you were trying to conceive, anything alcoholic was out of the picture. And yet, you could feel your mouth watering at the mere thought of the amber liquid running down your throat.

After a few minutes went by, it became strikingly obvious he chose not to return to the bedroom. You slipped inside your robe, already sure he would admonish you for leaving the bed — the family’s physician had recommended for you to lie down after the two of you engaged in sexual relations; according to him, it would increase the chances of fertilization. Rae had rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but you were not one to disobey doctor’s orders that easily when there was so much at stake.

However…

This was an entirely different situation.

You were no expert when it came to finances, but after managing your father’s estate for five years, it was crystal clear the situation at the brewery was quite complicated — and it was you putting it mildly. He needed money — a large sum of it — and although a pregnancy and an heir would solve the problem easier than making a deal with Lady Carise, you were not so naïve as to think you would get pregnant that quick.

For that, you would have to count on luck and that was not something either could afford right now. That’s why you should convince him to sell your summer manor. That was the fastest way to solve the money problem without recurring to Lady Carise and her… less than adequate intentions towards your husband.

The mere thought of the woman made your entire body shudder.

You did not trust the her. You never did. Not even when she was to marry your father and become your stepmother. Something about her smelled fishy. And, God, it was in no way jealousy.

There was just something about her… that simply did not sit well with you.

And when your guts told you to stay away from something or someone... You would rather pay attention to it.

You dismissed such thoughts as you tightened the knot at your waist and ran your fingers through your messed hair — in case you met a servant in your way. Nevertheless, there was no need to go that far, for he was in the anteroom. Back turned to you, he exhaled the smoke, before bringing the cigar back to his lips.

Carefully, you approached him, encircling your arms around his waist. He stilled in your embrace but did not move away from you. With a relieved sigh, you tightened your hold and leaned your forehead against his back.

For a moment, all you could hear was the cadenced beating of his heart. It was calm and so very comforting. He placed his cigar in the cinder-box and entwined his hand with yours. It did not take him long to turn around in your embrace and face you.

“We’re not selling the Southampton manor, (Y/N).”

You could have asked why, but you were too tired for that. Suddenly, all you wanted as to get some sleep and forget that disastrous afternoon — dinner be damned. Aside the fact he could tell you he had a monetary problem — more likely he did not have a choice to begin with — it was obvious he did not want you having a part in solving it.

“I refuse to be the kind of husband that relies on his wife’s heritage to solve his problems.”

You snorted, ready to pretend you did not hear that. Or ready to ask him how it could be so different to borrow Lady Carise’s money, but not yours. After five years living only with Rae Sloane — a remarkably independent woman — and Lux — and a few servants, of course, but they would not meddle in how you decided to run the house or your life — it was easy to forget how men behaved and how societal expectations weighed heavily on their shoulders. Truth is, Rae taught how much free a woman can be making her own decisions and you were not ready to give up on that.

Instead, you settled on, “I don’t want that heritage. It has brought me nothing but pain.” You realized your mistake as soon as he broke away from you, but now… Now you could not back down. You looked at him, at his impossibly blue eyes as you continued, “The happiest moments I have in that house are related to Lux.” And Rae, of course. But that was a given. Honestly, even if there were happier memories from the house, it was not something you could so selfishly hold onto in times of need. And this very situation configured as such, in your opinion. You just had to make Hux see that.

He nodded…

…and you breathed slowly…

…relieved…

He was finally seeing things your way.

“The manor in Southampton is not to be sold. That’s final.”

Oh, dear God!

With that, he brought the cigar back to his lips, his eyes focused on the quickly darkening sky outside. “Now, go get ready. I’ll wait you downstairs.”

Seething with anger, you bit your bottom lip, but decided not to give him the answer you desperately wanted. He was right, you should get ready. You should leave his presence and stay alone for a while, least you wanted to end up killing him.

“Like this, Mama?”

You pressed a small kiss to Lux’s forehead and nodded. You were a bit distracted, but more focused on him than that morning.

“Yes, exactly like this, Little Lord.” A small smile blossomed on your lips as you ran your fingers through his ginger hair. He was very enthusiastic about you having dinner with him and later keeping him company as he played the piano. You dismissed his tutoress, giving her an earlier respite.

Part of you — the childish part — was dying to know how Hux reacted to your absence. Even though the Lady of the House could indulge in the luxury of having breakfast in her chambers, dinner was an entirely different story. And part of you — the part that was trying to behave like the grown woman you were — just wanted some peace and the opportunity to sort your thoughts.

Spending some time with Lux gave you exactly what you were looking for. Not to mention, you felt bad for neglecting him during a great deal of the last few days.

“Promise me that if you ever get married, you will listen to your partner.”

He stopped playing and removed his chubby hands from the keys. He looked at you with a confused face, as if he had no idea what you were talking about — and how could he? Lux was just four — sometimes it was easy to forget.

“Never mind.” You placed both of his hands back on the keys and instructed, “Keep going, you’re doing great!”

Lux beamed up at your words — a genuine smile curving his lips and highlighting his dimples. You felt tempted to pinch his cheeks, but you knew he would get mad at you. And he was doing so well, you did not want to distract him right now.

“Rae is no fun,” he commented when he got bored of the melody you were teaching him.

You smiled once more.

Yes.

He was right.

Rae is no fun.

“Adults are no fun,” you commented, placing both hands on the piano and inventing another melody just so he could copy you and thus you could extend your time together — even though it was way past his bedtime.

“No! You are fun, Mama!” His vehemence made you laugh a little.

“Lord Hux would probably say I’m no adult at all.”

And with your recent behavior, you could say he was right. And as soon as he knew what you did, he would be even sure of it. You bit your bottom lip, expecting him to chew you alive next day when he read the newspaper tomorrow morning.

No.

You did the right thing.

If he was not willing to see things your way, you just had to force him to. You had done it before, and it worked. There was no way it would not work now.

“You should not speak for myself.”

Both you and Lux looked up to see the figure of your husband leaning against the threshold. He unfolded his arms and approached you in a few, firm strides.

“Lord Hux!” Lux exclaimed, shifting on his seat. He moved closer to you, giving space for Armitage to sit beside him.

“Lord Hux,” you acknowledged his presence with pursed lips. Not keen on talking to him in front of a small child — you still resented him for his behavior earlier —, you moved your fingers over the keys.

He seemed to think of it as an offer, for he, too, accompanied you in the music. After years of watching him playing his violin, you almost forgot how proficient he was at playing the piano.

Biting your bottom lip, you removed your fingers from the keys and rose to your feet. Still playing, Armitage looked at you with could almost pass as a surprised expression. You knew better.

“Let’s go, Lux,” you said, outstretching your hand. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“But Mama—

“Lux!” You did not let him finish his plea. At some point, you knew you would give in. “Come.”

“But I don’t wanna go,” he pleaded again, his intense chestnut eyes shining with unshed tears. He looked at Armitage, trying to get him on his side.

You sighed.

“Leave him be,” Hux said in an even tone, even if firmly. “I’ll get him to bed later.”

“No.”

If he was not willing to share things with you, you would not share your authority over Lux. Besides your unwillingness to do as your husband said, it was very late, and Lux was tired. If he was irritated at the mere possibility of going to bed, it was because it was way past his time to sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, Lux climbed down the seat and walked to you, not taking your hand, but not completely dismissing it either. As soon as you opened the door, you spotted the governess walking down the corridor.

She stopped as she saw you and subconsciously adjusted her clothes. If you were not so mad at Hux, you would probably have smiled at her gesture.

“May I help you, Your Ladyship?”

You shook your head, but your husband was behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he forced you to step back to his arms. His hand over yours prevented you from breaking apart.

“Take Lux to his room.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, offering Lux a hand. The boy quickly took it, casting a final glance at both of you. “Come, Lord Lux.”

As the two of them disappeared in the dim lighted corridor, you stepped away from Hux’s embrace.

“If you kindly excuse me.”

Before you could even leave the room, he had closed the door and pressed you against it. You inhaled sharply but refused to look at him over your shoulder.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His imperative tone made you snap. You shifted in his embrace and raised your chin, “Why should I talk to you when you don’t show the same consideration to me?”

He did not reply, not immediately. With the back of his hand, he traced your jawline and with his thumb he traced your bottom lip.

“I hate you.”

“I thought we were past that,” he replied lowering his face to yours. As soon as you felt his breath so close to your mouth, you turned your face away from him, letting his lips brush your cheeks.

“We have never been past that.” You moved from under his arms and put some distance between the two of you. He was ready to follow you when you said, “Don’t touch me without my permission.”

He stopped immediately, his hands falling to his sides.

You looked away, your eyes full of unshed tears.

“I thought we were on talking terms now, but it seems I was mistaken.” You drew in a sharp breath. Pressing your fingers firmly against the fabric of your dress, you raised your chin again, “A word of advice, Lord Hux, if you want to convince the King to appoint you as Prime Minister—

His snort made you stop momentarily. However, there were a few things to be said, and be damned his unwillingness to hear them.

“If you want to be Prime Minister,” you repeated; your eyes narrowed at him. “You should start talking to your wife. Your opponents will constantly do their best to put us against each other and I can’t simply take your side every time if I don’t know what’s going on through your head.”

He approached in purposeful strides. He forced you to release the fabric of your dress and placed both of your hands on his shoulders.

“They will undoubtedly do that,” he said, running his thumb over your cheeks. “And for your and Lux’s sake, you should be ready to turn on me if the time comes.”

You furrowed your brows.

What was he talking about?

“A word of advice, Lady Hux.” He mimicked you, running his thumb over your bottom lip to prevent you from biting it. “Perhaps you should watch whom you make alliances with. Perhaps siding with His Highness won’t bring the expected results.”

Your eyed widened.

“It’s treason.”

He broke apart.

“It’s only treason if I get caught.”

You followed him, your mouth agape. That was a dangerous game — this one he was playing. When you reached him, you put your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Armitage, hear me out, if you get caught—” You shook your head and lowered your voice. “No. When you get caught, you’ll be hanged.”

He kissed the inside of your hand.

“That’s why you’ll have to make them believe you knew nothing.”

You shook your head.

He was not listening to you.

He was not fucking listening to you.

“There was no meeting this morning with the board, right? You met with the Prince.”

He shrugged.

“The Kings is dying.”

“He isn’t dead yet,” you retorted. “Your personal interests should not interfere with those of the Crown. Listen, I know you want to become Prime Minister, but betraying your King will nev—

He snorted.

…and pulled your head back by your hair, exposing your throat to his lips.

“You don’t fool me, Lady Hux.” He brought his lips to yours. “You pretend your loyalty lies with the King, but I know you want this as much as I do.”

“Yes.” You replied breathless. “I want it, but I am being reasonable here while you are not. You’re loyal to no one, but yourself!”

Placing both hands on his shoulders, you tried to force him to break apart. His hand wrapped around your neck, applying the slightest of pressures to your windpipe.

“Yes… You’re right. I’m loyal only to myself.” He kissed the corner of your lips. “But what about you, Lady Hux? Where your loyalty lies?”

“With—

“Think carefully about your answer.” Your answer had his fingers tightening around your throat — not to the point of hurting you.

You wetted your lips.

“With the Crown, obviously.”

“Why?”

He pried his fingers open a little bit, allowing you to draw in a breath and reply — you were not so sure he would not like to hear it, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You bit your bottom lip, relieved that he seemed pleased with your answer. You thought about going on differently about it, but you knew he was talking hypothetically — just in case he was caught in his own game, something he did not plan on happening.

“Exactly, Lady Hux.” He kissed your throat softly. Next, his lips were upon yours in a brief — so very sweet — kiss. After it was over, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You shouldn’t have to ask it. You know my loyalty lies with you. Because I lo—” You closed your eyes and drew in a breath. It was time you were honest, not only with him, but with yourself. “Because without you I can’t get what I want.”

“And what do you want, Lady Hux?”

Looking into his eyes, you replied, “Power.”

You loved Hux — you really did —, but you also loved the many possibilities a relationship with him represented. Knowing that he coveted — and could possibly be chosen — the position of Prime Minister opened a lot of those possibilities for you. You knew that without him, you would never reach a position of power — at least, not one like this.

“I want power.”

This time, his lips fell upon yours passionately. His hands slithered to your waist as he brought your body closer to his. You gasped, giving him the chance to slide his tongue over yours and deepen the kiss. He walked you back, till you met with the piano bench. He made you sit down, kneeling before you.

Biting your bottom lip, you drew in a sharp breath. He kissed your throat, his hand slithering under your dress to caress your thighs. You watched in awe as he removed your shoes and then your stockings. You knew that as soon as he touched your undergarments, he would find them dripping wet.

“Tell me what you want, Lady Hux.”

You allowed him to remove the offending article of clothing that kept his glorious fingers from you. Arching your back, you offered more of yourself to him.

“You. I want you.”

He removed his lips from your throat and shook his head. His fingers — oh, so close — stopped their caress over your sensible, burning skin.

That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

You drew in a breath…

…and wetted your lips.

“I want power.”

It was all it took to have his fingers caressing you in the way he knew you needed it and to have his lips falling upon yours in an overpowering kiss.

“And you shall have it. Power suits you.”

A/N - And that’s all for today. I’m still working on my stories. I hope you forgive me for taking so much time between updates.

#in the general's bed #in the generals bed #itgb #hux x reader #hux x you #armitage hux #general hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x you #general hux x reader #star wars regency story #regency story #sequels #fanfic #fanfiction

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nymphl · 5 years

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In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 4 - To play a General

A/N - Hi, darlings! xD As promised, here I am to update chapter 4 of ITGB. This one has one of my fav cliffs ever. Sorry I do love cliffhangers xD I also quite like how Hux and Reader try to understand each other a little better here, but they’re people of their time and if couples aren’t known for talking to each other nowadays, what can we expect from people from 1815, right? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: Regency Era; Alternate Universe; Alternate Story; Alternate Universe - Historical; Arranged Marriage; Politics; War; Napoleonic Wars; England - 1815; Married Couple; OOCness; Smut

Wordcount: 6687.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

“MY LADY,” THE GOVERNESS BEGAN, HER TONE DID NOTHING TO HIDE HER NERVOUNESS. SHE WAS SHAKING. “HIS LORDSHIP ASKED IF YOU WOULD GIVE HIM THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY IN THE BREAKFAST TABLE.”

In other words, Hux demanded your presence. Right. Now.

You smiled in spite of yourself. You would have laughed but thought that maybe it the governess would think you were laughing at her — which was also the case, but not only nor the main cause. Bringing your cup of tea to your lips, you savored it as if you had never tasted anything so good.

“You may tell him that I appreciate his invitation, but I shall decline.”

There was a moment of silence, which you used to drink more of your tea before you lost control of yourself and laughed out loud. Then a sharp intake of breath and finally a confused, “My Lady?”

“That will be all.”

She bowed, her face contorted into a grimace of both fear and… disapproval? You did not know, and you did not care. Before she could leave, however, you said, “I see that your uniform is in… adequate condition today.”

You could have asked if Rae said something, but you thought that she would have more than enough to handle as soon as she told Hux you would not be joining him.

She blushed, visibly embarrassed with your words.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

As soon as the door was closed, you put your cup on the tray and brought both of your hands to your face. Your head hit the pillow and you finally laughed. If not for having the tray placed over your legs, you would have kicked the mattress as well.

What a day!

What. A. Day.

By now, your beloved husband probably had finished reading The Times and mainly the gossip column — only that could explain why he asked for your company when he knew you were dismissed of having breakfast at the table.

As a Marquess and a married Lady, you were actually encouraged to have breakfast alone, secluded in your own chambers. It denoted your nobility and importance in a household. And while you thought that was simply old fashioned bullshit, it never came so in hand.

You laughed again as you thought about Hux’s face right now.

Did he yell at the governess?

Did he hit the table with his fists?

Did his face get as red as his hair?

Ah, you would simply love to be in his company right now.

No.

Actually, you would give everything you had to be a small fly, so you could spy on him without denouncing yourself.

That would be… just awesome.

You laughed some more and concentrated on your breakfast, your eyes on the world beyond those windows. Albeit closed, the curtains were opened and you could see the sun shining outdoors.

What a lovely day.

You closed your eyes and inhaled your tea. It was warm — you bet as warm as the beautiful sunrays coming through the window, it was a pity you would not go on a walking with Lux that morning.

He loved playing outdoors, but after what you did — and mainly after Poe’s funeral — you thought that was not a smart decision.

Again, how did Hux react?

The waiting was killing you.

You counted to ten, expecting him to come banging on your door. He did not. But that was to be expected. He demanded you — with polite words, of course, but that was still an order — to come to him and explain yourself — you defied him — and he would not go to you. Unless he wanted to be seen as weak he would stay exactly where he was.

Clever.

That was a very childish power play and neither of you wanted to give up. Neither of you would give up. Neither would be seen as weak.

You expected him to avoid your chambers till night, when he would have to prepare for the Ball hosted by His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, in honor of the great and well-regarded Commander Poe Dameron.

Honestly, if not for having Lady Organa — and Rae, if you could convince her to join you; she simply hated such events — you would have declined his invitation. The man was getting ahead of himself. A Ball in honor of his Commander a day after his burial? As much as Poe was a lively person, you viewed the Duke’s action as reckless and not so thought-out.

A small smile crept to your lips…

Well, even more reason to go and put a convenient smile to your face. If the Royal Family would not meet their General — as responsible for the unbelievable victory over the French as their Major General — you would make sure they heard of him.

You wondered if after his thunderous reputation after the Battle of Waterloo he talked about politics with his wife — he probably did not. There was word out there that his marriage to Catherine Wellesley was highly unsatisfactory, with the Duke pursuing other partners in broad daylight — and who were his political advisers. They were probably all old men and lacked the necessary qualities to play the politic game in the Ton.

A sigh left your lips as you thought that Hux was not that very different. Although he did not consult with old rags — he had Rae Sloane, but Rae knew about Wars, not about the Ton — he did not talk to you. It was beyond frustrating!

Well… You just had to prove him wrong.

To prove them wrong.

It was past lunch — this time you had to go downstairs, but Hux was locked in his study in what seemed to be a very important meeting with Rae Sloane and a manager recently arrived from Dublin — when you finally crossed paths with him.

You would have turned away, before he noticed you — and declared he had won your little, petty competition — but stopped at hearing his voice.

He was in the drawing room with Lux. To your complete despair, he was reading a story to the boy. Reading the same fable you did when you caught him faking illness.

If you did not think him utterly ridiculous, you would have felt some anger creeping through your veins.

And judging by Lux’s confused face, that was certainly not the fable he had been reading before you entered the drawing room. That made your need to smile even more noticeable.

Ridiculous.

And he dared calling you childish.

The smile quickly died in your mouth. If he still believed you were lying — not that you vehemently denied and dismissed his romantics about being Lux’s fathers last night, actually you merely waved him off and said that he would never know the answer for sure —, he would be very mad after tonight.

Well, he would be very mad at you for meddling in his business — he already was — but that had to be done. The announcement over Lux’s adoption on The Times was necessary. Actually, vital to his political career.

By now, the Royal Family must have heard of him. If not about his successful campaign in the Napoleonic Wars, at least about his courageous and heartfelt act after a brother in arms suddenly and tragically passed away.

You would make sure of that.

However, your actions may have seen as another of your childish attempts at driving him away from whom he thought to be his son and heir. Now you regretted your answer. If you told him — for real — the whole story he would understand, wouldn’t he?

When Lux saw you, his smile brightened, and he disentangled himself from your husband and ran to you.

A small smile touched your lips as you bowed slightly and patted his ginger hair lovingly. He giggled when you tapped his little nose.

“Mama, would you like to hear a story?”

You even opened your mouth to reply, but Hux closed the book within his right hand immediately, indicating he would by no means read you a story — perhaps another fable on why lying was a bad thing. Perhaps you should read some on why he should trust his family.

Trust you.

If you said Lux was not his son it was because he was not.

Period.

What was so difficult about that?

You barely realized you forgot to give Lux an answer and was instead glaring at Hux. The boy pulled the skirts of your black dress and asked, his brows furrowed, “Mama?”

“Oh, yes, darling,” you replied with a warm smile. “I would love to, it is, if Lord Hux would be so kind to read us another fable.”

“He was reading one about how the horse…” He touched his lips with his index finger, a pensive expression taking his childish features.

“The Horse that lost its Liberty,” Hux completed for him, opening the book in the same page of before.

This time, you were the one who furrowed your brows.

“Why?”

“I love horses!” Lux said in his place, his tone as eager and enthusiastic as ever.

All traces of that crying boy from last night were gone. He did not look as a child who had just lost his father. In fact, it seemed he did not even remember Poe and his importance in his life — which was not that great, you reminded yourself.

And Lux is just four.

Just yesterday you were telling yourself that a child his age had problems grasping the concepts of life and death, you could simply not expect him to keep on crying all day long. That was too much to ask of a child.

Besides, you loved when he smiled.

Just not when Hux was the reason.

You glared at your husband again. He shrugged, and the shadow of a smile tugged the corner of his lips. He seemed very pleased with himself for again making Lux more interested in him than yourself.

How you hated him.

“Believe it or not, Lady Hux, one can read fables without disciplinary thoughts in mind as well.”

You bit your bottom lip, not very keen on giving the answer he deserved in front of Lux.

“Will you read for us, my Lord?” you said instead.

He eyed you with those bluish eyes of his filled with some feeling you could not quite put your finger on, but deduced he was having some fun at your expense.

Lux took you by the hand and approached the couch, where they were both sitting before you arrived and took his seat between you and Hux. The boy leaned against you, as he usually did when you read him a story, and placed your hand on his hair, so you could run your fingers through his ginger locks. You kissed the top of his head and inhaled his sweet scent.

His innocent and seemingly subconscious action brought Hux’s eyes to him, eyeing him with renewed interest.

Bothered with his stare, you cleared your throat and glared at him. He glared back, and his voice was finally heard in the so far silent drawing room.

“Will you tell him the truth?” Rae Sloane asked as if that was nothing as she the tightened your corset to its maximum.

You gasped and placed one hand over the mirror positioned in the middle of your dressing room to balance yourself. After spending the entire day reading agreements and taking Hux’s young manager, Dopheld Mitaka, to a walk in Hyde Park, she dismissed your Lady’s Maid, stating she would help you herself tonight.

Not very keen on picking an unnecessary fight — even if Rae was just horrible with your hair —, and actually eager to be in her company, you accepted her help — but you would do your hair yourself or just call your Lady’s Maid back. Rae was not touching a strand of your hair. Although proficient with the most complicated hairdos, she always left you with a bugging headache whenever she got near your head.

Right now, she was leaving you breathless.

“Gods, Rae, I can’t breathe!”

“You have gained weight,” she changed topic as if her last question meant nothing. And in fact, given the current situation, you would say it didn’t.

“I can’t be pregnant,” you replied, fanning yourself with both hands. “We haven’t even…” You bit your bottom lip. Why were you telling her that? “You know… Properly… Well, yes and no.”

She cast a hard glance at you through the mirror. You felt all color leaving your face.

“I am not interested in your intimate life with the General, (Y/N).”

You breathed through your nose and laughed shortly.

“General…” You shook your head, it made her pull even tighter the corset strings. “It’s funny when you call him like that. It’s feels like you’re not his—

“I am not,” she interrupted you, tying the knot firmly in place. She moved away, searching for the skirt of your clothing and you finally breathed slowly. “There is a reason why I never had children, (Y/N). I am not his mother, as you are not Lux’s mother.”

Well, you told yourself that every single night before sleeping and every single day just after you woke up, but hearing those words leaving someone’s lips — someone you considered dearly — in such a crude manner always hurt you.

They felt like a slap to your face.

“You love him as such…” you whispered and bit your bottom lip. Any chance you had of saving a little of your dignity was long gone now.

She gestured for you to stay still as she adjusted the buttons of your dress and smoothed its skirt. It was a gorgeous evening gown; one you prided yourself on owning. With its bluish, black and white colors, it was surely a different piece of what everyone paraded within in the Ton.

Perhaps black was the more appropriate color, but you bet the Duke’s wife would be wearing such color and you refused to be compared to someone’s else — even if someone of higher position in the Ton.

“My feelings have nothing to do with this mess you’ve created.”

Again, a slap would have hurt less.

“I know nothing of the Ton, (Y/N), as you well know. But let me tell you something, I do know your husband and he will not forgive you if you play him. Tell him the truth. Tonight.”

You bit your bottom lip.

What did she expect you to say? Your statement to the newspaper should be enough. If Lord and Lady Hux were adopting Poe Dameron’s son, it was because the child was not his!

“Could you do it yourself?” you asked, only to be met with a hard glare through the mirror. “You know he listens to you far more than the listens to me.”

She took her time to give you a reply and you feared for your dignity again — it is, if it still existed? When she did not, she left you agape.

“I am calling your Lady’s Maid to help you with your hair.”

If you had to use a word to describe this night, it would be hypocritical. The very same feeling of yesterday at the funeral returned.

No one was there to celebrate Poe’s life or his importance as a Commander in the War — most people there did not even know about their soldiers. On the contrary, they were eager to strengthen their alliances with the Duke and maybe get a closer look at the General and you.

At least you made a far more striking pair than the Duke and his wife, that’s for sure. As expected, everyone was dressing black and your colors contrasted to those present in the Ballroom.

The Duchess was certainly one to set fashion tendencies and every guest expected her to dress black — and she did not disappoint them and neither you. Once again, you were right. People in Ton were so predictable it hurt.

And it was boring.

You cast a glance at Hux over the shoulder of your current partner. A traditional Ball — even one taking place after a burial — required good wine and brandy, music and dances. After having dancing with your husband twice, you had two more partners.

One of them was the hateful Agent Terex — you did your best to seal your lips and prevent yourself from giving him a piece of your mind. The other was Captain Solo — he was known to be a Pirate in the past and whisked you away from a very displeased Lord Terex. Lady Organa’s husband was a sarcastic man who hated Balls and anything even remotely related to the Ton — which was actually refreshing. It was funny how a popular Duchess fell in love with him — everyone knew their marriage to be one of love, no sane woman would marry Han Solo, a poor sailor — after he decided to leave his days as a pirate behind him — the best in the whole world, or so he said.

Their son, Ben Solo did not come with them, which seemed to please Hux greatly. You would have to know what happened between them back in the War, it seemed to affect their relationship significantly.

Lady Organa and the Duchess Catherine both congratulated you on your and Hux’s decision to adopt Poe’s son. According to the Duchess, the poor, little thing needed a family more than ever now. She even said she would adopt him herself — in spite of the fact she had two children already — if no one stepped up to take care of him.

You felt your blood leaving from your face as you forced yourself to smile and hold your tongue. Part of you was taken by an almost uncontrollable fury as she cogitated the possibility of taking Lux to herself. You never needed Rae Sloane so much in your entire life! At least Lady Organa was there and changed topics, complimenting you for your dress.

She wore white and orange — Poe’s favorite colors.

Now you were dancing with the Duke of Wellington himself. Hux’s eyes were on you as the musicians stopped playing the melody of the traditional Strasbourgeoise Cotillion and the tune of a waltz began.

A few older ladies gasped — Lady Organa was certainly not one of them — for waltz was a popular dance in France, people in the British Empire still considered it too bold — scandalous even. It was certainly a dance that demanded too much of body closeness.

After the first steps, everyone was forced to stop. Agent Terex was close to the musicians, hitting his goblet of champagne with a spoon he probably got from the dinner offered earlier.

He cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice sounding much louder in the now silent Ballroom. “I propose a toast…”

Before he could continue, every footman filled waiting cups with the finest champagne or gave goblets to those who did not have any.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you waited for his words. That was definitely not what nor whom you had in mind when you thought about the announcement tonight.

It was impossible not to notice the Duke was tense as well.

You searched for Hux’s eyes, but he was not looking at you this time.

“For Commander Dameron.” He finished, raising his goblet.

Everyone in the Ballroom mimicked him. The Duke relaxed visibly.

“And…” Agent Terex continued, his voice denouncing how much he had drank — as if his terrible breath was not enough. “I would like to congratulate Lord Hux and Lady Hux…”

Definitely not what you were expecting — nor how you were expecting…

“…for their empathetic and wise decision to adopt Commander Dameron’s son.”

His last words were followed by a minute of silence — in which your husband finally looked at you. Your heart galloped in your chest in rhythmless beats — and then everyone repeated For Lord and Lady Hux.

A few guests, having their crystal goblets placed over trays the footmen were carrying around, even applauded the announcement.

With the help of Captain Solo, Agent Terex left the small area and the musicians resumed playing. The melody filled the Ballroom and the couples were once again dancing around you and the Duke.

He bowed dutifully in front of you and brought your gloved hand to a courteous kiss.

“It warms my heart to know such a young boy will be well cared for, my Lady.”

This time, you could not discern in his tone if he was being sincere or if that was just another mask. You narrowed your eyes, but there was no time to come to a conclusion, for Hux approached you, followed by the Duchess of Wellington.

The Duke slowly let go of your hand and instead offered his arm to his wife. A sigh of relief left you as soon as you saw them ready to leave you and your husband alone.

“We just hope—” the Duke began, his eyes fixed on Hux, “that he won’t be forgotten as soon as you finally bear Lord Hux his heir.”

With him positioned behind you, it was impossible to see his reaction — if he expressed any. Part of you expected such direct attack from the Duchess, but she seemed far politer than her husband. Another part of you tried to come up quickly with a response that would show he picked a fight with the wrong people, but Hux beat you to that. Taking your gloved hand between his and bringing it to his lips, he said,

“Your worries are groundless, Your Grace. Lady (Y/N)’s love for Lux is immensurable.” He placed a small kiss on your cheeks. “Now, if you are worried about heritage, then perhaps you should ask your own wife about her opinion.”

A small gasp left both you and the Duchess. The Duke’s face contorted in anger, but he remained silent. He would not risk his image over something that would have the entire Ton talking for weeks to come and the gossip columns in The Times making a fuss about next morning.

It did not mean you did not feel sorry for the poor woman. It was a truth universally acknowledged, that His Grace did not seek her anymore. Their marriage was one of convenience nowadays and even if she bore him two sons, everyone questioned their first offspring.

They departed in silence. Both you and Hux bowed dutifully. You had no idea how differently you could have acted. You shifted your attention to him, about to ask if he was ready to leave when he pulled you to him.

“That was mean,” you said as soon as he placed his hand on your waist and directed your left to his shoulder. “Even for you.”

He did not give you an answer. Not that you expected one. You should scold him for saying such outrageous words to a Duke, nonetheless. And yet, you saw yourself thank him in your mind. Although you considered his reply disrespectful and even offensive, you could not blame him for defending you. After all, the Duke was the first to treat you as a mere offspring repository.

He saw that coming.

People would talk — he would talk — if Lord Hux did not defend the honor of his own wife.

Instead, you saw yourself saying, “I thought you were mad at me.”

There was another moment of silence as he guided you in light and fluid steps. He was a great dancer, you always thought that. Your heart always accelerated whenever he took you to the center of the Ballroom. As an adolescent, you would always watch him dancing with other ladies and get jealous of them for having his attention all to themselves.

In the shadows, you watched him and imagined yourself in their place, in his arms, dancing with him — you even dreamed of kissing him. It was with indecorous happiness — for no woman should take so much pleasure in such simplistic occasion — that you had your first dance with him when you debuted in the Season, when you were eighteen years old.

Seven years…

You were startled to realize so many years had gone by. After that dance, your life changed forever. With eighteen you had your first kiss with him. With nineteen you got engaged to him. With twenty, the two of you got married.

Touching his cheeks — a highly improper move that had guests all around you gasping —, you furrowed your brows. There was no time to say anything, for he began,

“You fooled me.” His voice was cold; his eyes expressionless. “I must say I am impressed by your strategy.”

Brows still furrowed, you removed your hand from his face and moved it to his shoulder. He used that opportunity to bring you closer to him — the closeness between your bodies far more shocking for those people unused to such scandalous dances —, his mouth on your ear, so no one would hear his next words,

“You say you love Lux, but all you did recently was using him to improve your social position in the Ton.”

As if burned, you stopped dancing altogether and glared at him. If not for the guests all around you, you probably would have hit him right in the face.

Perhaps punched him.

You had never punched anyone, but the need was never as great as it was right now. Biting your bottom lip, you let your fingers slip from his hand.

His eyes were focused on yours as he ran his right hand over your face. The need to step back and get away from him was almost overwhelming but you held yourself in place.

“You say I have changed… But you are someone else entirely, (Y/N).” He ran his fingers over your bottom lip, it trembled slightly as the need to bite him — spite on him, cry because of him — took over you. “I expected so much more from you.”

When you finally found your voice, it was broken and hoarse. Your eyes were full of tears you did your best to cover.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Hux.”

After you arrived from the Ball, you entered Lux’s bedroom and dismissed his tutoress. You expected him to be sleeping soundly, but he was wide awake. You sniffed and blinked twice to dissipate the need to cry.

He was holding between his chubby fingers the very drawing that fell from your book when that very fateful day when Hux returned to your life.

And how you hated it.

Hated him.

Every ounce of love you felt for him was slowly dying whenever he addressed you with his cruel, unkind words.

You are a bad liar, a voice in your head said. Part of you knew that it only hurt — his words, his behavior, his coldness — because deep down — in the very bottom of your heart — you still loved him. Part of you tried to reassure you that you loved the man from the past. Not the man who came back from a successful campaign in Waterloo.

You shook your head and concentrated on Lux. He did not realize you were in his chambers. He was so engrossed with the drawing, he could not have seen a real horse trotting in front of him.

It was Hux’s drawing. One he had made in one afternoon the two of you escaped to a picnic. Your lady in waiting was left behind — only to be harshly punished by your father later; that poor creature — and you found yourself alone in his company. As your father could not suspect any illicit nor lusty activity between you, Hux took his time to draw your horse.

Obviously, it did not prevent you from rolling in the grass — with you landing over him and wresting with him for such prized position — and kissing till your lips were aching and swollen.

Those were indeed happy days…

… and you could only regret that they were gone, and you were stuck with a control freak and pale shadow of the albeit melancholic, so very romantic man you had fallen in love with.

You recalled that afternoon as if it happened just yesterday. When the two of you were parting, he kissed your hand in a gentlemanly gesture in front of your father and handed him the proof of how well behaved while he was alone with you. In your fingers, though, there was a small paper with your face sketched and a small message written in a careless manner.

Soon, beloved.

Of that small sketch of your face there was nothing left. Your father made sure to rip it apart when he caught the two of you kissing in Hux’s study room — he had reasons to believe the worst; you were sitting over his desk and he was between your legs. His hair was disheveled and your hands were between his clothes, touching his chest. That was how far you went, but your father was sure you had disgraced yourself that day and it took you a while, and daily doses of humiliation extended to Hux as well, to prove him wrong. He tried to do the same to the other drawing, but you placed it in your clothes before he could get his hands on it.

Lux was holding this drawing close to his chest and looking at it with the innocent passion only a child could muster.

You approached him and sat on his bed.

“You really like him, don’t you?” you asked, running your fingers through his cheeks. It seemed to tickle him, for he giggled and slapped your hand gently away.

Offering your hand to him you helped him sit on the bed, you watched as he handed you the drawing as well, so you could place it on his bedside table.

He nodded his response.

The boy has a sweet tooth, he had said last night when the two of you talked in the dead of the night in each other’s arms. He likes toffee.

“Because he gives you sweets,” you tried, your voice a bit unsure.

His smile was so bright it could rival the very sun. Although you loved to know Lux could like someone like Hux instead of merely hating him, it worried you greatly that he could be hurt in the near future. For you knew for sure Hux did not know how to love or how to reciprocate anyone’s feelings.

He merely ‘liked’ Lux for now because he firmly believed to be his father. It was very convenient for him to father a son — the Royal Family would look kindly upon any man having a family. Once he believed you and accepted the truth, you doubted he would be so willing to give the boy even a sideway glance.

But his words…

…they mean nothing…

…they must…

You were conflicted. Part of you wanted to find excuses for his behavior — even if you knew there was none — and another part wanted to label him as Satan himself.

The mere thought made your heart break. Albeit strict, Armitage Hux was a man who exerted some sort of fascination over people. He was alluring. And people who came to know him, loved him easily. Rae Sloane, for one, did love him. Needless to mention your own feelings for the man… and now Lux loved him as well…

Oh, Gods! You would kill Hux if he made your Little Lord suffer!

“Yes, and because he will give me his horse.” His high-pitched voice dragged you back to the present time.

You looked at him with widened eyes, surprise all written over your face.

“He will?”

Lux nodded. His smile easy on his face. He brought both hands to his eyes and rubbed them a few times.

“It’s time to sleep, Little Lord.” You helped him under the covers and ran your hands through his hair. “Actually, you should have slept hours ago.”

He shook his head.

Too tired, but too excited to give in to sleep.

So stubborn…

“He will teach me to ride too, Mama!”

His excitement seemed to die a bit as he yawned.

“When I get big and old.”

He focused his chestnut eyes on you and asked, his voice no more than a worried whisper, “will that take long?”

You laughed a bit and kissed his forehead.

“It will come soon enough, Little Lord.”

Sooner than I expect.

Or want.

You were returning to your chambers when you stopped in front of Rae’s bedroom and recalled her words.

Tell him the truth.

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head.

No.

You were not going to talk to him.

Not even if your life depended on it.

Tonight.

She would be very disappointed in you next morning.

But what could you do?

Hux made it very clear he did not believe a word you said about loving him, about Lux’s parentage. He did not believe you. Period.

It made your heart ache and you felt highly stupid for still having feelings for him. He was the last person in the universe who deserved your love.

Heavens, he did not believe you when you said you loved Lux — your most precious thing. The light of your life.

You did your best not to recall his words, they were to cruel and made your heart sore and small.

Shaking your head, you opened the doors of your chambers, only to find him sitting in the anteroom, a cigar between his fingers and a glass with brandy resting on the coffee table.

It was very rare to see him smoking. He was not a man of vices. In fact, this current Hux in front of you was a very meticulous man, a man who controlled and was not controlled by anyone or anything.

A man who hurt and never got hurt.

His words returned to you with full force.

You say you love Lux, but all you did recently was using him…

You cut his voice in your mind, shaking your head and walking to the bedroom. He did not spare you even a single glance.

The words continued, this time almost a chant.

You say you love Lux…

Biting your bottom lip, you removed your dressing gown and held it in your arms.

You say you love Lux…

“Enough!” It took you a while — and a confused stare from him — for you to realize you had said the words aloud. You even brought both hands to your mouth in a mortified gesture, but you shook your head.

Tell him the truth.

You were trembling.

With rage.

With disgust.

With disappointment.

With love for Lux.

…for him…

But you were also trembling with hate.

For him.

For yourself.

For his father.

For your father.

You walked to him. Stopped right in front of him. And took his glass of brandy, taking the liquid all at once.

If you were to say the truth — the ugly truth — you had to have at least some alcohol running through your veins.

“Do you want to hear the truth?”

He did not give you a reply.

His bluish eyes were focused on you. Intense. Burning with a cold flame that hurt you more than his words. In a dismissive gesture, he brought the cigar to his lips.

It was clear he did not want to hear whatever you had to say.

But now he would.

You would make sure he did.

“My father hated you.”

If these words bothered him you would never know, for he did not how any reaction to them. It was well known that your father disapproved greatly of him and his ancestry.

A bastard!

You gave yourself to a useless bastard!

He had called Armitage a bastard in countless occasions. His own father called him that every once in a while. Not every day. No. It would be the same of reminding himself he could only produce an heir — any heir — outside wedlock. It would remind him of his own failure.

You braced yourself for the next words.

“He would never allow any child of yours to live.”

That made Hux’s shoulders tense. He sat straighter in the couch and lowered the cigar to the cinder-box.

“Did he…” He let the question in the air. He could not even look at you. His eyes were cast on the floor. Your negative reply made him cast a glance at you with some relief. “I would kill him if he—

“No. But he laughed at me when my menses came.”

It still hurt to recall his happiness while you cried yourself to sleep in Rae’s arms. Your heart was flooded with fondness for this woman who took you under her care as if you were her own child.

There is a reason why I never had children.

She was a far better mother than most mothers you had met in your life — your own included.

“He was happy that it did not take root. It was not even six months after that and upon your disappearance that he decided to marry me off to another man.”

His lips were pursed into a thin line…

…And you thought that you saw some anguish in his eyes…?

You shook your head. You were reading too much into his reactions. It was only natural that he would be mad at your father — men all over the Empire considered women to be their properties. Hux was no different.

“But then, he suddenly stopped.”

He furrowed his brows.

No words left his lips.

His silence was never so welcomed before.

“It took me and Rae a while to figure it out… But he was having an affair with a village girl in Southampton.” You sat beside him and took the cigar. You had never smoked before — the only time you tried, you did it wrong and ended up with a coughing fit. He took it away from you and brought it to his lips.

“Go on.”

You bit your bottom lip, regretting the fact that you did not have anything alcoholic to drink in your chambers.

“This girl…” You looked down. “This girl had your hair… but chestnut eyes.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line.

“You know… Don’t you?” you asked, your voice broken.

He nodded.

For long, uncountable minutes there was only the sound of the cigar becoming ashes in the cinder-box. A sepulchral silence enveloped you.

Subconsciously, your hands sought his and your fingers entwined.

“I suspected it,” he finally admitted it, looking at your palms pressed together. He ran his thumb over your pulse absentmindedly.

“She was younger than you and me,” you continued in a whisper. “But she was the legitimate daughter your father never knew he had. My father—

You did not realize you were crying till you felt his fingers on your face, wiping them away.

“Is a monster.”

He brought you to the comfort of his arms. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and cried your heart out. It had been long since you let yourself think about this story.

“Was a monster.”

He ran his fingers through your hair, trying to comfort you. It only made you cry more.

“She was no more than a child. He…”

“Forced her,” he finished for you; his voice no more than an emotionless whisper.

This made you cry harder.

He had never met his sister. He never would.

Your father was truly a monster. The worst kind of monster. Because he hated Armitage and the prospect of him having his title — even if he desperately needed Armitage’s money — revolted, sickened him, he forced himself upon your husband’s only living parent. Thus, their offspring — unlike yours — would be fit to have his damned title.

In his eyes, you were no better than a whore — the only daughter he had had given herself to a bastard.

“Lux is my nephew,” he said, holding you by the nape and forcing you — albeit not unkindly — to face him.

You nodded.

“And my brother.”

A/N - Well, that’s it for today, kids! Unlike BB, I still have left two more chapters of this story to update here. I’m on a tight schedule right now, so that’s why you aren’t getting ant updates from me. Sorry, but I really have to finish my thesis xD. Anyways, I hope you’ve liked it xD

#hux x reader #hux x you #in the general's bed #in the generals bed #regency!hux #regency hux #star wars #sequels #fanfic #fanfiction #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #regency story #star wars fanfic #star wars regency story

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nymphl · 5 years

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In the General’s Bed - Regency Hux x Reader - Ch. 2 - To outsmart a General

A/N: Hi, darlings xD As promised, here I am with chapter 2 of ITGB. My biggest thanks to everyone who took their time to give me some hearts for chap 1 and if you feel like... any reblog, any comment, any like is very much welcomed and appreciated. I hope you like it xD

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: Regency Era; Alternate Universe; Alternate Story; Alternate Universe - Historical; Arranged Marriage; Politics; War; Napoleonic Wars; England - 1815; Married Couple; OOCness; Smut

Wordcount: 6475

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

“THERE WAS ONCE A YOUNG SHEPHERD BOY WHO TENDED HIS SHEEP AT THE FOOT OF A MOUNTAIN NEAR A DARK FOREST. IT WAS…”

You adjusted Lux in your arms and kept on reading. It was raining, and your usual picnic and games outdoors had to be postponed. He complained, whined a bit, as expected, but complied shortly after you offered him a cookie and allowed him to lean against you as you read a book to him.

Smart as he was, he grimaced as you went further in your reading. Obviously, he understood why you choose “The boy who cried wolf” by Aesop. He took one of your locks and twirled it in his still chubby fingers. You knew he was upset, but you did not stop for a moment.

“…and when the boy complained, the wise man of the village said: ‘A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth’.”

The two of you stood a moment in silence, you placed your chin over his head and kissed his hair lovingly.

“Did you get why I chose this fable, Lux?”

He shook his head.

“But you do,” you replied in a soft voice.

He continued with your strand of hair firmly around his finger and closed his eyes; if you did not know him well, you would tell he was asleep.

“I lied one time,” he said, letting go of your hair and shifting in your arms to face you. “And I want to play outside!”

He was pouting, chubby arms folded at his chest. It took all you had not to laugh. He was so cute like that! You pursed your lips into a thin line and arched your brows.

“It’s no excuse, little Lord!” And before he could say anything else, you gestured with your hand, indicating there was still more to come, “and it’s raining outside, what do we do in raining days?”

“Stay here,” he replied begrudgingly.

He was still pouting. It was so difficult resisting him when he was such a cute little lord.

“Exactly, we stay indoors. Now, what do I want to hear?”

He was on the verge of tears, but you knew he would not cry. He bit his lips and his chin quivered; his eyes were cast down, focused on his feet. You brushed your fingers against his cheeks and forced him to look at you.

“Now, Lux, there’s no need to cry.”

“I am not crying.”

Stubborn and proud.

You kneeled in front of him and held his tiny hands between yours. You shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile.

“There is no need to hide your tears from me, little Lord.”

“Grown-up boys don’t cry.”

You arched one brow and pursed your lips. He would be very pissed off if you laughed right now…

…But the need was so overwhelming you had to bring the book to cover your face and look sideways.

It did not ease the need to laugh that much, but at least you could face him with a more serious expression. Your eyes softened as you brushed a tear on his cheeks.

“Now, seriously, Lux…” you started, keeping him away; you wanted him to face you as you said the next words, “who told you boys don’t cry? Grown-ups or not?”

He did not give you a reply.

You shook your head and bestowed him with a brief kiss on the nose. You did not let him cling to you. Dinner time was approaching, and you still had to get changed — with a guest. An acquaintance of Hux. If you were not mistaken, he was called Agent Terex. You sighed. It would be a boring night of politics and men trying to make you look like a fool because you did not understand a bunch of what they talked about.

Well, it was better having a guest than having dinner alone with him. A shiver ran down your spine as you recalled how it ended last night. You were not sure you were read at all for it.

“Let’s go. I am sure you are eager to tell Lady Rae what you have learned today.”

He stopped immediately on his tracks and looked down. Even if his ginger locks feel on his face, shadowing his expression, you could still see him pouting.

“Please don’t tell Lady Rae.”

“She’s going to be…” you stopped mid-sentence. You had to give him reassuring words. “Nice with you.”

You knew that Rae Sloane did not take a lie so lightly; he was on her black list from now on — and certainly for forever.

If Rae could scare the hell out of you, you could only imagine how frightening she could be to a child.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be later.”

“Can I just hide today?”

“And lie again?” You shook your head and pulled him by the hand towards the exit of the winter garden. “Not gonna happen, little Lord. Besides, she won’t let you get off that easily.”

He pouted.

“You are not going to convince me with this face.”

“What face?” he asked back, chestnut eyes wide open with curiosity. The two of you stopped in front of a shiny surface. You moved behind him and squeezed his cheeks. He grimaced.

“This crying face.”

The expression staring back at you through the mirrored surface was one of barely concealed anger.

He was so cute.

“Boys don’t cry. Only girls like you cry.”

“I don’t cry, little Lord!” you replied; hands covering your mouth in an expression of both surprise and offense.

He removed his hands from yours and folded them at his chest.

“I saw you crying the night the Lord in the horse got here.”

Oh.

Oh…

Oh!

That explained why he pretended to be sick for two nights in a row… He did that, so you could avoid sleeping next to your husband — or even getting near him, since you spent every waking hour by his side. While you appreciated the gesture — you did not want to share the same bed with the General even if your life depended on it —, you knew that Lux put the both of you in a difficult situation.

“Oh, Lux…”

“You were crying because of him, Mama?”

Although his intonation was that of a question, he knew what he was talking about. Otherwise, he would not pretend a sickness he did not have, he would not risk getting caught…

“What did I say about calling me Mama?”

He pouted.

“I hate him.”

You shook your head. Thankfully, he would change his opinion soon. It is, if he saw you crying because of the General again he wouldn’t…

“Now, let’s go. I’m sure Rae is dying to meet you.”

He groaned in response.

“She will kill me.”

“She won’t kill you,” you replied as you opened the door. You were not looking up, or you would have seen both subjects of your conversation a few seconds earlier.

“Oh hello, Lux.”

Quicker than ever, he hid behind your legs, his face completely pressed against the folds of your blue dress.

“She can still see you, Lux,” you whispered to him, a hand pressed gently against his ginger hair. “I promise you she will do you no harm.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, my Lady,” Rae replied, a sinister smile gracing her lips. You were not sure if the one gulping was you or Lux. Her expression was one of killing you would be the merciful course of action. “Now, come along, Lux, we have a lot to talk about.”

He looked at you and only let go of your dress when you nodded. For as much as Rae could be frightening, she meant no real harm. And although Lux addressed you as his mother, she was the one to take such a role since the very beginning. He placed his small hand between hers and the two of them trailed the corridors, leaving you and the General behind.

Not really sure of what to say to him — would a mere hello do? — you started following them, but stopped on your tracks when his commanding voice reached you.

“I did not give you permission to leave.”

You took a deep breath when he closed the door of the winter garden behind himself and motioned for you to sit. You did so, choosing the loveseat so he could not get near you.

After a few seconds passed by in silence — you thought them as hours; to be in his company for even a minute seemed like torture —, you cast an unsure glance at him, only to find him holding the book in his hands, a bored expression on his face.

You sighed.

He was so difficult to read. It is, except if he felt disgusted. That was an expression he did nothing to conceal. And at the very moment he did not seem very pleased with you.

“Is that how you intend on punishing him for his mistakes?”

You sighed again. How were you supposed to tell him that punishing a child not necessarily taught them anything besides fear and resentment?

Hate.

A feeling that he seemed well acquainted with.

Love… such a meaningless word.

Funny, because hate was so meaningful to him. And love and hate, although not direct opposites had such a thin line separating them…

Noticing that he was expecting you to say something, you shook your head and concentrated on the topic at hand. It would change nothing to mull over his affections — or lack thereof — for you.

“Believe it or not, it’s a very effective way to teach children wrong from right, my Lord.”

He kept his words to himself and closed the book, handing it back to you. Carefully, you reached out for it, not very keen on having any sort of physical contact with him.

A gasp left you when he enclosed both hands around your wrists and pulled you towards him. His nose was almost brushing yours and his breathing was so mixed with yours it was difficult to distinguish them.

“The boy needs to learn discipline.”

His eyes were narrowed, you could tell he was very displeased with the disarray Lux caused for the last two days. At first, pretending to have a strong stomachache, then complaining his throat was sore. It was all gone to waste as soon as Hux called a physician he trusted — for he did seem to think both you and Rae would ask for some healer nearby to lie, so the boy would get off the hook — and had the boy examined.

The verdict was quick and clear: his health was top notch. If any part of Lux was sick, it must be his tongue, filled with the poison of his lies.

“You are too soft on him.”

“He knows he did wrong.” You agreed with the General. Most of times you were too soft on Lux, but he was the one being too harsh with a four-year-old boy. “He even apologized.”

His nostrils flared.

Sometimes, you even thought that he could smell it when you lied. And probably, he had heard part of your conversation with Lux. Did he hear the boy saying he hated him?

Oh, crap!

“He won’t learn discipline if he is not punished.”

You shifted your wrists between his hands, forcing him to loosen his grip around you. You stepped away, indignantly.

“Is that how you intend on raising our children?”

Silence.

He gave you his back and walked towards the windows. It was still raining heavily outside and from the way in which thunders and lightening crossed the grayish sky, it was obvious it would not stop any sooner.

Funny, because the weather mimicked your feelings right now. You were furious, just like the tempest castigating the green scenery outside.

You braced the book, inhaling the scent of old paper to calm yourself. It was infuriating how he could make you lose your composure so quickly.

The man from the past — the man you loved, worshiped and adored — never stirred such feelings in you. In fact, besides the butterflies dancing in your stomach whenever he got too close or stole a kiss, you could not remember ever getting mad at him before.

When his answer came, it left you boiling with rage.

“How I intend on raising my heir is none of your business.”

You took a moment to reply. He would not make you raise your voice. You were better than that. You were a respectable Marquise, for God’s sake!

“Then I am giving you no heir whatsoever.”

“Excuse me?” He looked at you over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes did nothing to hide how offended he was.

You turned on your heels and headed for the door. You would not stay in the same room as his. You still had to get ready for that damned dinner of his and he would absolutely not ruin your night with his horrible, grumpy humor.

Not even daring to look at him, you replied; your lips tilted upwards in a victorious smirk.

“It’s exactly what you heard, my Lord. I will never lay with you again. Meaning, I’m not opening my legs to you… ever.”

You expected him to be dinner to be a boring event — if boring was a word that could be used to classify any event in the company of Rae Sloane — with Agent Terex as a guest.

And it was, for the first half hour. The four of you were in silence and you wondered why your husband offered the man the courtesy of a dinner if he would not engage in any sort of conversation. It was clear he lacked the proper etiquette to be sitting near you — and while you had no complains about how he drank his wine or ate his meat, you did have a problem with his wandering eyes.

Not for the first time you saw yourself sticking your fork to his grayish orbs. If not for Rae Sloane’s hand placed over your thigh under the table, you would have acted on your wishes.

Again, why did Hux ask such indecorous, disgusting old man to have dinner with you?

For God’s sake, he was old enough to be your father!

“Tell me again, Agent Terex…” Rae started, bringing her goblet to her lips. You mimicked her, but regretted it shortly after, you almost spilled all of its content on the man’s face. And that was the problem with round tables, everyone could easily see each other. “Tell us that story in which you fell from your horse in front of His Grace, the Duke of Wellington.”

You brought your napkin to your mouth; you certainly did not want to get caught laughing in the man’s face. Rae had no such qualms. She laughed a little and then busied herself with more of her wine. Slowly, when you were sure you would not burst into laughter, you looked at Lord Terex and then at your husband. Lord Hux had the telltales of a smirk; his lips were slightly tilted upwards.

It did not go unnoticed by Lord Terex. His eyes were now narrowed, his face a bit flushed with embarrassment and… anger?

Certainly, a man of his mien knew how good it was to laugh at himself…

…Or not.

“I heard you plan on being appointed by the King himself as Prime Minister, Lord Hux.”

Silence.

There was only silence for a moment as you looked at Armitage, waiting for his answer. He cleaned the sides of his mouth slowly, as if there was nothing of his concern in the world.

You looked at Rae.

By her blank and calm expression, you realized she already knew it. Of course she did. Of course he would tell her of his plans before he even thought about telling you.

Typical.

“You heard correctly, Agent Terex.” His voice was calm, toneless. He brought his goblet to his lips and sipped the wine unhurriedly. His icy eyes focused on you.

He sure did expect you to react like the spoiled child he said you were just yesterday.

You bit your bottom lip, controlling your urges to call him on his act. However great the impulse was, you knew that was not the time to demand explanations. Your marital problems were none of Agent Terex’s business.

Besides, it was obvious he was doing it deliberately. He wanted to create a rift between you.

You snorted.

As if he could…

As if there wasn’t a huge rift already between the two of you.

As if his silence for five fucking years did not do it already.

As if his behavior two nights prior and his heartless words did not expand this rift further.

You drank your wine and smiled sweetly at your hateful guest.

“In fact,” you started, placing your goblet back on the table. “we are moving back to London by the end of this week.” Hux was looking at you, his eyes showed a hint of… admiration? You shook such thoughts away and concentrated on the task at hand. “My husband can’t be appointed as Prime Minister if he isn’t around the King or even living in the Ton, don’t you think?”

“I guess not…” Agent Terex replied, his lips curved in a smirk. He even opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by your husband.

Hux cleared his throat, indicating that dinner was over. As soon as you rose to your feet, the butler approached the door leading to the drawing room and opened it for you and Rae.

“A clever little thing she is…”

You cast a glance of your shoulder at Hux, only to find his eyes on you as he replied.

“Indeed, she is.”

Part of you thought that the glint in his bluish orbs was one of admiration, but the other part was still mad at him for his behavior earlier — and a few days prior — to give it — to give him — any credit.

It was some hours later in the night — a quarter past three, you guessed — when you entered his room, only to find it empty.

Your chambers were connected by a door that lead to each other’s room and to the dressing room. After trying for hours to get some sleep without success, you decided to go to him and pour your heart out.

Prime Minister…

You always knew he was a very ambitious man and he indeed had been irreproachable serving the Crown in the War, but to be a politician? Prime Minister none the less?

That was a bit too much, even for him…

As a General he may have come across all sorts of politics, but they all concerned the War. As Prime Minister War policies would seem child’s play. As naïve and inexperienced as you were, you understood more of the Ton policies than he believed. For starters, you doubted the King would name — or even consider — a bastard as his Prime Minister. And you were not sure the Ton would accept him either.

A sigh left you. What hurt the most was the fact he did not even think about telling you.

How did he expect your support if he told you nothing about it? Because even if he thought he could do it alone, it was crystal clear he couldn’t.

Not without you.

It did not matter your family was bankrupt when you got married — when your father finally admitted he needed the bastard’s help —, your name still had prestige in the Ton. And Armitage Hux would go nowhere without it.

You shook your head and sat on his bed.

Comfortable.

Huge.

Very huge.

Bigger than yours.

In fact, his entire room was better than yours. A bit too impersonal, true, but at least it was bigger than yours.

It did not seem fair that he got the better room when he spent so many years away.

Part of you thought — with some mischievousness and some thirst for revenge — that you could have transformed it into an extension of your dressing room; it was getting smaller by the day. You needed more space to keep all of your clothing anyways.

You shook your head.

As much as it would have been fun to have him getting mad because of his chambers, you did not want that room for yourself. You never did.

Not when it brought so many memories of your first night together. You caressed the linen of the sheets, recalling how you grabbed onto them as if your life depended on it as he brought you to unimaginable heights of pleasure.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Recalling that night always made you sad.

Not because of the night itself — no, it was perfect in every sense of the word —, but because of the morning that followed.

You woke up alone — no goodbye kiss, no word whatsoever —, with your father at the foot of the bed tossing you a dressing gown and telling you your husband had gone to War and would hopefully die there before he could even dream of having his title.

The pain of receiving such news was unbearable, but it could not compare to your father complaining how much of a fool you were for giving yourself to such a man so easily.

Now you are wasted. No respectable gentleman will ever want you, even if that prick is as good as dead.

You embraced both of your legs and placed your chin over your knees.

For days your father pestered you asking if you felt something — anything — different. He had to know in which level of stupidity you were currently. He feared that you were pregnant.

And for days you hoped you were; you even slept praying for all the known gods to bless you with his child. They had to listen to you. It was the only way your father would leave you alone.

They didn’t.

At first, when your moon menses did not come, you were sure you were pregnant. And you could not be happier. But after a few days when you woke up with cramps and your sheets were tinted red you were grateful you had not conceived — and for Rae’s company as well.

She held you in her arms — or you threw yourself at her and she did not push you away — as you cried. It was obvious she was not used to comfort anyone, and it became crystal clear when she broke the news: your father would have you removing the child, if your body did not do it alone.

From this day on, you did not know who you hated more. Your husband — for leaving you alone without a word — or your father — for hating your husband so much at the point of considering having his child removed.

You bit your bottom lip. You should not give it much thought. It was all in the past. Hux was alive — your father dead — and your father was wrong.

He died believing your husband had died in the War. He died believing you were a fool for loving such man.

In fact, he called you a fool so many times you started believing his words. And after Hux’s behavior, you would not say your father was wrong after all.

You were a fool.

Seconds became minutes and minutes transformed into hours. When you last realized, you were with your head buried in his pillow, inhaling his scent as you fell asleep.

It was hours later — or minutes? You had no idea —, with a slight movement at the end of the bed that you woke up.

You opened your eyes and did not recognize where you were. You looked up, but the room was immersed in darkness. The candles burned out completely and the sun was nowhere in the sky. In its place, only the navy-blue mantle, minus its moon and stars.

“Amirtage, is that you?”

When there was no answer, you tried again.

“Lux?”

There was a sharp intake of breath as you sat on the bed, now wide awake.

“I did not expect to see you here.” His voice reached you before his fingers did. You squealed as he pulled your legs, forcing you to lay on your back and climbed atop of you.

You breathed deeply through your nose, only to realize that he was closer than you imagined. It was almost impossible to measure the distance given how dark the entire chamber was.

Your fingers touched his shoulders, only to find it lacking appropriate clothing.

“Please, tell me you are not…” You bit your bottom lip and started running your foot along his calves. The lack of fabric covering that part of his body made your stomach churn. “naked.”

He gave you only silence.

You felt compelled to keep your search, your foot aiming high. Even if he wore no socks, he would probably have his breeches on, right? You did not even want to think about the alternative.

“Careful, (Y/N),” he placed a hand under your knee, preventing further movements from you. His thumb traced lazy circles over your calves, making you blush as you thought about the other day. You felt your cheeks reddening and looked away, even if he could not see you in the darkness.

His touch over you did not last more than a few seconds before he broke apart and lit the two candles.

Your first reaction was to check if he had his breeches on. He did. Then you breathed slowly — as if your life depended on it — and looked at his face. His hair was neatly combed and in spite of his lack of upper clothing, he looked as composed as ever.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Where were you?” you asked, not very keen on starting a discussion on why he did not have all his clothes on. You were the one to invade his privacy, after all.

His almost relaxed posture of before flew away. His shoulders tensed, and he straightened his back as he took a seat on the ottoman across the room.

Shaking your head, you climbed down his bed and headed to your room. You yawned, only now you realized how tired you were. Perhaps you should leave this conversation for tomorrow, when the two of you had your minds set straight.

He did not allow to go, however. He held your wrist and pulled you to him. You feel on his lap, sitting astride him; his legs between yours. Your hands held onto his nude shoulders and his moved to your hips, keeping you in place.

You drew in a sharp breath.

“Let me go.”

Silence.

As expected.

“Let me go,” you tried once again, a tired sigh leaving your lips as you tried to break free from his grasp. He tightened his hold around you. “What do you want?” you asked in a defeated voice.

Still, he remained in silence.

He was insufferable.

“Look, I am ti— you started, but your sentence ended in a gasp as he bestowed your throat with a brief kiss.

You widened your eyes as he moved his mouth southwards, gracing your clavicle with love bites and kisses. His hands were everywhere, under your slip, caressing your skin; over your hips, moving you sinfully against him.

A moan escaped your lips.

Ashamed, you closed your mouth and you placed your hands over his, trying to stop him. It only helped to further enhance the movements.

You could feel him through his breeches. And, Gods, he was hard… Twitching with need. You shifted your hips experimentally, grinding against him, and this time he was the one to inhale sharply.

He moved his mouth to yours, taking your lips in a demanding, lustful kiss. And it was with some sort of surprise that you felt and heard the fabric of your slip torn at your back, leaving your upper body naked to his appreciation.

Your nipples hardened almost instantly — you did not know if because of the arousal or the cool breeze entering the open windows. There was no time to voice your dissatisfaction for he chose that exact moment to close his lips around your left nipple, twirling his tongue and teeth around it.

A louder moan escaped you.

But very conscient of the occupants of the nearby rooms, you closed your lips, biting the inside of your cheeks.

The general leaned back more comfortably against the ottoman, forcing you to lay atop of him. His mouth returned to your breasts, this time capturing your right nipple between his teeth.

As his hands were both occupied with your hips, dictating your movements in that scandalous sex-simulation, you brought your fingers to your neglected breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between them.

He breathed hard and broke apart. A thread of saliva connected his lips and your skin. He rested his head against the ottoman, his otherwise kept, perfect hair, completely messed, falling over his forehead, as he watched as you pleasured yourself.

You could feel yourself getting closer and for a moment, all you wanted was to climax around him — with his cock deep buried inside you.

He too was closer. If the way he brought his hips up to meet yours and rubbed you harder against him was of any indication… Or even the dark color of his irises…

You bit your bottom lip and placed both of your hands over his chest for leverage. You threw your head back as the pleasure became stronger and your eyes closed out of their own volition.

Part of you expected him to kiss you as you came — as to muffle the sounds escaping your mouth —, but instead he brought both of his hands to your breasts, pinching your nipples without any mercy.

The pain, mixed with the mind-numbing pleasure had you coming with a high-pitched moan. Your legs trembled around his hips and if not for the considerable width of the ottoman, you probably would have fallen to the floor.

Your movements took a while to come down to a halt. And it seemed like hours had passed before you opened your eyes and looked at him.

The telltales of a smirk graced his features as he ran his fingers over your nude back.

You gasped.

Your hips ground against his once more and your entire body shuddered. You were too sensible after the orgasm, your senses in disarray. It took you a moment to notice his mouth moving, he was speaking something.

…watch you pleasure yourself.”

He rolled you on the ottoman, but instead of staying atop of you he moved to the floor. It was a mere glimpse, but you could see the evidence of his coming in his breeches. You barely had any time to feel proud of yourself, for he kneeled between your legs and started removing your undergarments.

Your face was now red crimson.

He wasn’t… was he?

“I want to taste you,” he whispered against the insides of your thighs, before he placed a small kiss to your hip. You were now completely naked; at his mercy.

And heavens, how you loved it.

He was good at this.

Too good.

Did he have any practice while he was away?

The very thought was a bucket of cold water to your senses. Instead of incoherent words and moaning as his tongue expertly stroked your clit, you found yourself holding him by his ginger hair and closing your thighs. “Let me go. We can have this conversation tomorrow.”

He looked at you. His eyes clouded with something akin to confusion. Need… Lust.

You shuddered.

“You came to me and I doubt you finally left your shelter for nothing.” The way he spoke shelter had you glaring at him. It was obvious he was referring to how you tended to Lux these past two days and spared him not a single a glance during this time.

“He is just a child. And he is jealous of you. Afraid you will take me away from him forever.”

There was silence for a moment.

He caressed the inside of your knee, but this time it did not spark a rush of feelings inside you. It was… calming.

That or his spell over you was completely broken now.

“He’s insecure, but he meant no harm. If you wish…” You took a moment to think over your next words, you were sure Lux would hate you for that. “He’ll come to you and apologize for faking illness these past two days.”

If he was a lesser man he would probably have snorted.

“The boy said he hates me.”

And who doesn’t? you felt like asking. But you knew that if you did you would be lying; you would be doing the same thing you condemned Lux this very afternoon.

Besides, if this man in front of you still had something to the man you worshiped in the past, he still had some insecurities regarding his upbringing and the lack of love in his family.

Before you could control yourself, you ran your fingers through his hair. His bluish eyes were intense, but soon he closed them and enjoyed your caress.

It was like a dream.

He had his hands on the small of your back, stroking you as well.

And even if the two of you were practically naked in front of each other — well, you were naked, for he still he had only his breeches on — it was in no way a sexual moment.

It was almost companionable.

You lowered your head to kiss him — on the lips or the face it did not matter, you just wanted to show him some affection —, your breath tickling his skin, mixing with his own, and then his words caught you off guard.

“Did I make you cry?” It came out as a whisper, with no trace of judgment whatsoever, but it still made you freeze.

You stopped caressing him and straightened your back.

His hands fell to his sides.

He stared at you.

You bit your bottom lip and left his warmth, putting some steps of distance between you. This time, he did nothing to stop you. He allowed you to go.

There was a moment of silence, as you decided whether to leave or to stay. You thought that you would get no sleep if you went to your room, so you gathered his shirt, neatly folded over an armchair close to a mirror, and covered yourself.

“When are we moving to London after all?”

Your question seemed to have caught him off guard, for he took some seconds to come up with a reply.

“As you stated before, by the end of this week.”

You took two steps closer to him.

“You should have told me.”

“It would change nothing,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone that you more than hated.

You could have asked how much it did change telling Rae about it, but you swallowed your words.

It would no do to show him how affected you were that he trusted Rae so much while he was not willing to give you the same benefit, even if you were his wife.

All your life you told yourself you refused to be a trophy wife and now you were exactly that.

For what was your use if not showing his companions — showing Lord Terex — that you were good at warming his bed and nothing more? And warming his bed you did that very night.

You bit the inside of your cheeks before you called him something you would regret later. Heartless bastard. You took a sharp intake of breath and sat on the loveseat across the room.

“It changes everything.”

He regarded you in silence, waiting for you to continue. Even if you knew almost nothing about the man in front of you — he had changed so much over the course of five years —, he seemed to know just about everything concerning you.

It was exasperating!

You wetted your lips and reunited your courage — for you would need it!

When a few seconds passed, and you said nothing, he left the bed and walked towards the anteroom. You could hear him pouring something for him — or for the two of you — and later his steps as he approached and handed you a glass with brandy.

“It changes everything because, my dear husband, if you want to be nominated for Prime Minister, you need me.”

He arched one eyebrow.

You smelled the drink and took it all in one gulp. It would give you some courage. It had to.

He was quiet throughout your discourse; his face blank. He nursed his brandy, sipping it lightly. When he returned his attention back to you, blue eyes as intense as ever, you gasped.

And found your courage.

It would be the last time Armitage Hux underestimated you.

You smiled sweetly at him as you continued, “Perhaps you don’t remember, but my father was a figure very close to the King himself…”

His eyes were narrowed.

His lips were pursed into a thin line.

You had reached him.

You had finally got some reaction from him.

Even if one of anger or disbelief — you could not precise which one you liked more. Both were very fitting — you had yanked some fucking reaction from him.

“Meaning, if I tell him you are not fit to be Prime Minister…”

He snorted.

“What you mean, my dear wife…” he stared, caressing the inside of your pulse. You did your best not to jerk away. “Is that my political career now lays in your hands.”

You nodded, feeling very confident.

“I would say it’s a clever move, if not foolish,” he whispered against your ear, trapping your earlobe between his teeth. You gasped this time, your nails deep buried in the armrests. “Lady Hux, you are playing a game you are bound to lose.”

Perhaps, you thought.

Instead of giving him any answer, you moved your head towards him, brushing your mouth against his. He licked your bottom lip, before he slithered his tongue inside your mouth. You could briefly taste yourself.

A moan escaped you.

For a moment, you let him dominate the kiss, your fingers caressing his neck and his ginger hair. Your left hand trailed his thighs. You stroked him through his breeches. Hard again. Ready to play. He inhaled sharply.

In your mind, all you could think was that if you lost, he lost was well.

That was a game played by two and the General was in for a great ride if he thought you quit so easily. If he expected to win, he better start playing by your rules.

A/N - And here you have it. I truly hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter. It’s one of my fav of this story. I’ll come back next Thursday with the next installment of ITGB. Sadly, there aren’t many posted on AO3.

#in the general's bed #hux x reader #hux x you #regency hux #regency!hux #regency story #in the generals bed #itgb #general hux #armitage hux #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux x reder #armitage hux x you

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