Work Text:
It started with stares and snickers.
Since ‘defecting’ and coming to the Ajan Kloss base, Hux had gotten used to being looked at differently. Back in the Order, he’d been stared at plenty, but those stares weren’t normally combined with blushes and giggles—more like sneers and frowns, or the occasional look of begrudging respect—and it was disconcerting. Hux could stand distain, disgust and hatred, but the damn laughter was setting his teeth on edge.
The cause became apparent when Poe slid into the seat opposite him and pushed a datapad across the table. There, on the screen, was a photo of a group of resistance pilots posing for the camera and in the background were Hux and Poe, mid-conversation, standing much too close and Poe was grinning at Hux like he was...well, not a hated war criminal.
“What on Ajara is this?” Hux said, taking the datapad.
“A post on Holosnap,” Poe said, as if that made some sort of sense. He caught Hux’s bewildered expression and explained; “It’s a holonet picture-sharing social media platform. Everyone from senators to holodrama stars have one.”
Hux pulled a sour sort of face that perfectly summarised his opinion of such nonsense. “And why are we on it?”
“Someone here with the username ‘freedomrebel77’ posted it. Could be anyone.”
Hux made to hand the datapad back but Poe shook his head.
“Read the comments,” Poe said, grinning. So Hux did. He scrolled down and down and down. How so many thousand people had the time to comment on something so menial was beyond him. Then he spotted it:
- Hux x Dameron? I ship it! The enemies to lovers arc we didn’t know we needed
The comment had several thousand likes and over two-hundred replies.
“What does ‘ship it’ mean?” Hux asked. Poe laughed and explained.
Hux paled.
“People...are speculating on some possible...romantic entanglement between us based on a blurry photograph?!” Hux hissed. “Do they not have anything better to do?”
“Speculating ain’t the only thing they’re doing,” Poe said, eyes full of mischief. He took the datapad and pulled up a holonet site called, cryptically ‘The Shipyard Archive’, and clicked through until he found the page he wanted, then handed it over.
Hux read the title—’General Attraction’—and frowned. Then he scanned the summary:
Poe Dameron thought babysitting a war criminal would be boring. Then they got locked in a supply closet. With one bed. And no escape.
“Is this...a story about us?” Hux said, appalled.
“Yep,” Poe grinned as if he’d just won the Chandrilan lottery. “There’s a lot of them.”
Hux was speechless.
“Most are just...weird, schmoopy romances,” Poe continued as if all their privacy hadn’t suddenly and terrifyingly been violated, “but some are...spicy.”
Hux went red from the tip of his ears to his neck. “You don’t mean...?”
“Oh, I mean,” Poe raised a suggestive eyebrow.
Hux blinked. He wasn’t sure if he should be appalled or flattered. He was aware of the many articles about him on the holonet, most of which were scathingly derogatory. Which was to be expected. To the Republic, he was a war criminal. The face of villainy. Hated from the core to the outer rim. Not...someone to be cast as the lead in a romantic comedy with Poe Dameron as the love interest. Hux scrolled down further and wished he hadn’t.
Hux moaned, back arching as Poe stroked his—
“Stars in heaven,” Hux said, aghast, and clicked the datapad off. “This is...pornographic!”
“Yep,” Poe grinned, amused. “People are really into our dynamic.”
“We don’t have a dynamic!”
“We totally have a dynamic.”
“If you can call me hating you with a fiery passion and you being an insufferable imbecile a dynamic, then yes, I suppose we do!”
Poe leaned in. “It’s called enemies to lovers, babe, and people go wild for it.”
Later, Hux paced his room. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much; the weird obsession of a few morons on the holonet shouldn’t matter at all. Especially ones who wrote lewd, ridiculous fiction about him being fucked by Poe Dameron.
As if real life would be so kind as to let Hux be fucked by someone who looked like Poe.
But he couldn’t shake it; the damn story he’d started reading—the one Poe had shown him—was stuck in his head.
And so he perched on the edge of his bed, picked up his datapad and opened The Shipyard Archive. It didn’t take long to find the appropriate subcategory: the General Hux x Poe Dameron section had over a hundred stories already. The latest had been posted just thirty minutes ago. Hux scrolled back to find the one Poe had shown him—’General Attraction’—and continued reading. Not because he wanted to. But because he needed to understand it.
Yes. It was purely academic interest.
Poe licked a stripe down Hux’s chest, stopping to tease a rosy nipple, before continuing his path southwards, tongue hot and wet against Hux’s skin.
Hux paused. He looked down at himself. Rosy nipples? How in the stars could they know such...Nevermind. No. Not the thing to focus on. He continued.
Poe’s honey-brown eyes glanced up to catch Hux’s, asking permission. Hux gave a curt nod and Poe eased Hux’s underwear off his milky thighs and immediately took Hux’s length into his warm, wet mouth.
Hux cleared his throat. Well. That was certainly an interesting visual. He could almost understand how someone could enjoy reading that. Poe was annoyingly handsome—too handsome, distractingly handsome—and his mouth was plush, lips wicked when they pulled into a grin.
Oh. Hux’s prick stirred and he bit his lip. This was a terrible idea. He should not be reading such filth or imagining Poe doing anything so base and lewd to him. He should put this to bed. Take a shower. Sleep it off.
He continued reading instead.
Hux moaned in pleasure as Poe bobbed his head and gave an expert flick of his tongue against the head of Hux’s flushed cock. His lips slid down and he enveloped Hux’s prick in the heat of his mouth from root to tip, the head bumping the back of Poe’s throat. Hux’s hips jerked and Poe gripped them with a strong hand, holding Hux in place as he sucked down—
Good grief. What an imagination some people had! Hux would be lying if he said he had not thought about the act before, though he had never experienced it. No one had ever wanted to. No one had ever offered—certainly not Poe—and Hux had not really given it any serious consideration. But now he...was. He was very seriously considering how it might feel to have Poe’s mouth wrapped around him. How hot his tongue would feel pressed just below the head. How his plump lips would slide down over it. How he could thread his hand into those wild curls to keep Poe in place as he spent in his mouth.
Hux’s hand found its way inside his underwear without permission and he was stroking his erect cock before he even really realised what he was doing.
He paused, suddenly guilty. It was shameful, to be thinking of Poe like this and touching himself to the thought of it, no less!
But no. Wait.
Poe had not been upset by the stories. He had found it amusing. He had grinned like it was funny, eyes dancing with mischief. Maybe he even liked what he’d read. Because he had read them too, hadn’t he? And then shown them to Hux. As if perhaps he had enjoyed them.
Well. That reasoning was good enough an excuse for Hux to allow himself continue, his hand moving faster now as thoughts of Poe perhaps doing the same—reading the smutty stories and jerking himself off—danced through his mind.
And it was to that image—Poe with a hand down his trousers, head bent, fingers moving—that Hux came, hard and fast, inside his underwear.
After, as the rush of heat left him, shame bloomed in its place. He’d acted terribly. Like some oversexed teenager. And he’d thought about Poe! Poe, who had only ever been friendly, in that teasing way of his that seemed almost like flirting, but surely couldn’t be. And Hux had...dirtied him with his own impure thoughts.
And he had fooled himself with his ridiculous supposition that Poe might think of him in any sort of sexual way. As if Poe, with his bright smile and his handsome jaw and his beautiful brown eyes, would ever be interested in him. Hux was not stupid. He knew what he was: too skinny, too sharp, too gangly, too ugly. And not even an appealing personality to temper his ill-favoured look.
If Poe was a solid ten-out-of-ten, Hux was somewhere in the minus figures.
Hux deleted his holonet history.
That brief and ill-advised foray into the filthy depths of the holonet should have been the end of it. Hux should have drawn a line under it. Put it from his mind. Compartmentalised it, as he was so good at doing.
Well, as he used to be good at doing. It was hard to keep the mental walls up when someone like Poe Dameron was so determined to poke holes in them.
And once again, it was Poe who started it.
One evening, Hux was idly scrolling a news feed on his datapad when the text comms blinked with an alert; an incoming message from Dameron, P. Hux opened it, expecting a mission brief or a request to fix something Poe had broken (this was common. He’d received three such requests this week alone). But no, this was a link to the holonet—to that blasted Shipyards website—and a series of punctuation marks that had been arranged into a winking face. Emojis, apparently, was what they were called and Poe used them like a second language.
Hux’s finger hovered over the link. He should delete it. Last time things had...escalated.
He clicked the link.
The story was a new one, posted only an hour or so ago by a new user called ‘flyboy69’, and it was titled TIE Me Up. Hux sighed at the terrible punny title and started reading.
The plot was a little contrived. Poe had been recast as a First Order TIE pilot (apparently this was called an ‘alternative universe’ and people used it as an excuse to throw characters into bizarre and unlikely scenarios) who was currently being punished by General Hux for insubordination.
In a way that absolutely did not adhere to protocol.
In his career, Hux had reprimanded countless officers and troopers. But never once had he tied anyone to a chair, put them in a spreader bar and given them fellatio until they begged for forgiveness.
It was unrealistic! It was against regulation! It was so hot his prick hurt where it throbbed against the seam of his sleep trousers.
Dameron squirmed against his restraints, thick cock bobbing where it hung heavy between his legs, and begged for his General to fuck him.
Good lord.
And because Hux was merely a man—and a touch-starved, virgin at that—he gave in and shoved his hand down his pants to bring himself off in record time, eyes skimming the words of the story. When story-Poe came, real Hux followed.
The next morning, Hux was enjoying a quiet breakfast in the mess—alone, as usual, with his black caf and single slice of toasted carb loaf—when Poe slipped into the seat opposite him with a smirk.
“Did you read it?”
Hux rolled his eyes and lied. “No.”
Poe grinned as if he could see through Hux as easily as a transparisteel viewport. “Yeah you did. I think I’d look great in a TIE pilot uniform. Or out of one.”
“Dameron.”
“Did you like it?”
Hux flushed red involuntarily as he recalled how he’d jerked off so hard he’d almost sprained his wrist.
“No,” he lied again.
Poe grinned wider, clearly unconvinced. “I think it’s very creative. The writer has some...intriguing ideas.”
Hux clamped his jaw so tightly his teeth hurt. “I think the writer is entirely out of their mind,” he said, trying for an offended and irritated tone. It came out more...constipated.
“So you did read it,” Poe smirked.
Hux had to leave before he did something stupid like whack Dameron over the head with his breakfast tray.
Or kiss him.
Or perhaps both.
Two days later, Hux received an alert in his comms inbox. He had, apparently—accidentally!—subscribed to the author flyboy69 and was now receiving messages whenever they posted anything new.
Hux told himself it was just so he could be aware of what was being said about himself and Dameron.
Hux told himself a lot of things these days. Most of them were lies.
He clicked the link to flyboy69’s latest work: a piece entitled Between a Rebel and a Hard Place. Honestly, it was a terrible title but at least it wasn’t a song lyric.
This story had more plot than the others he’d encountered: it was a survival story, of sorts, featuring Hux and Dameron shipwrecked and stuck on some cold, dangerous moon together. They had to work together to survive, despite their clashing personalities. Hux actually found himself rather invested in the tale, especially the portions written as if from Poe’s perspective. It was almost as if the author knew Poe—the way he gestured and the turns of phrase he used—and Hux began to wonder if the author was someone they knew personally, rather than a random ‘shipper’ from the holonet.
But then Hux was rather distracted by the next scene, in which sharing body heat turned into something more...intimate.
Poe’s hands slid under Hux’s tunic, calloused fingers running over his skin, drawing out a shiver.
“Are you still cold?” Poe asked, brown eyes warm and sparkling even in the low light of their makeshift cave shelter.
“Yes,” Hux lied. In truth, his whole body felt superheated from Poe’s touches, each point of contact felt like pressing a live electrical current to his flesh.
“I could warm you up more,” Poe said, coy.
Hux feigned ignorance “Yes? And how, exactly, would you do that?
Poe leaned in closer, his breath warm over Hux’s cheek, and whispered in his ear. “It’s easier to show you, General.”
Hux skipped ahead a little eyes, scanning the text, eager to find out what fictional-Poe had in mind.
Poe rolled Hux onto his front with strong but tender hands and caressed the swell of Hux’s backside. Then he spread Hux’s cheeks and dove in, tongue laving over Hux’s hole with the enthusiasm of a child with a bantha milk ice cream. When he pushed the tip of his tongue inside, Hux had to bite down on his own forearm to stifle a cry; it was filthy, intimate, wonderful. His knees hurt from the unforgiving cave floor, and his prick ached and drooled endlessly against the blanket, but Hux didn’t want Poe to stop. Not ever. The pleasure was greater than anything Hux had ever imagined, let alone experienced.
When Poe’s finger slid in beside his tongue, Hux’s entire body jerked with both surprise and pleasure. He rocked his hips slightly, testing, and found the burn to be satisfying. He wanted more, more fingers, deeper, more of Poe, anything. Anything Poe was willing to give him, here in this dirty cave on this barren, awful moon, Hux would take, desperately and greedily.
But when Poe pressed another finger, then another, inside, all it did was stoke the fire in Hux’s belly.
”Dameron, more,” Hux demanded. He needed to be filled with Poe’s throbbing length, to be utterly full of him.
”Bossy,” Poe breathed, lips ghosting over Hux’s backside. “Lucky for you, I aim to please.”
Hux whimpered as Poe withdrew, but soon Poe’s fingers were replaced with the hot, blunt head of Poe’s prick. Poe slicked himself with lube borrowed from their medkit and eased his way inside. Hux willed his virginal hole to relax—”
Hux stopped reading, the hand that had been absently rubbing the tent in his trousers stilling. Why did all the authors of these fics always assume Hux was a virgin? He was a virgin, but that was not the point. What about him screamed ‘inexperienced in sexual matters’? Was it his...posture? His lack of social skills? His uptight personality? He sighed, his erection flagging.
Apparently, even strangers on the holonet knew no one would ever actually want to fuck Hux in real life.
Poe found Hux in the main hangar the next day. Hux was on his back under the belly of a battered A-Wing—which looked as if it had been shoved through a hole a good meter too small for it—attempting to salvage a bundle of tangled, burned-out wiring.
“Hey Hugs,” came Dameron’s voice from somewhere out of Hux’s line of sight.
He sighed—loud enough for Dameron to hear—but did not stop working. He really was not in the mood for Dameron’s teasing today. “Good morning, Dameron.”
Poe put his foot on the end of Hux’s creeper and forcibly wheeled him out from under the A-Wing to grin down at him. Hux made a noise of irritation and glared back.
“I am trying to work here,” Hux said, “you may be familiar with the concept of work, yes? Perhaps you have seen it in a holo?”
Poe snorted a laugh, not offended in the slightest. He seemed to be immune to Hux’s barbs, or else mistook them for ‘banter’. He leaned over Hux in a way that made something tighten in Hux’s stomach.
“Oh, lighten up, buddy,” Poe said, “I only wanted to ask if you read the latest work from flyboy69?”
Oh great, of course Poe had read it. Perhaps he had come to make comment on Hux’s ‘virginal hole’ too.
“I did not care for it,” Hux said, curt. “Why is it in all these stories, I am the...inexperienced, desperate one and you are all...smooth and charming and have had more sex than a twi’lek dancing girl at a Zeltros pleasure party?”
“You know about Zeltros pleasure parties?”
“That is hardly the point!” Hux huffed.
Poe just smirked at him. “Well, y’know, my reputation as an excellent lover proceeds me.”
Actually upset now—though trying not to show it—Hux replied; “And apparently mine, as some...pathetic, repressed, unfuckable bastard proceeds me.” He pushed hard with both feet, sending his crawler back under the A-Wing so he didn’t have to look at Poe anymore.
And so Poe would not be able to see how much the story had affected him.
Poe was quiet for a long moment. “I uh, wasn’t trying to upset you,” Poe said, contrite. “And for what it’s worth, it doesn’t seem like anyone thinks you’re unfuckable. If anything, they all seem to think you’re veryfuckable. By me specifically.”
“You are not helping,” Hux said, “and I do not care.” He sounded very much like he did care and mentally chastised himself for it.
“Yeah, I...I can see that,” Poe replied. “I uh, have something to attend to. I’ll catch you later.”
Hux heard the familiar sound of Poe’s boots retreating over the duracrete. That was...unusual. Poe was normally more persistent in his attempts to make Hux feel better.
Perhaps even Poe, with his apparently endless patience for Hux, had limits.
Later, Hux found himself alone in his quarters and miserable. Which was hardly unusual. He had been alone and miserable his entire life. After Dameron carried him off the Steadfast and away from everything he’d worked towards for thirty-four years, Hux assumed misery would be his permanent state. Or dead, actually. But he had begrudgingly come to realise everything he had been taught about the Resistance and the wider Republic was false.
Well, most of it. They were sloppy, undisciplined, overly emotional fools. But they certainly were not the scum Hux had thought they were.
And Hux had...become used to them. It was nice to live without the threat of being beaten, lashed or Force-choked every day. And once he had gotten over the initial panic that being able to choose things for himself had caused, he actually rather enjoyed it. There was a simple satisfaction to selecting his own boots or coat or tray of dinner in the mess hall.
Moreover, Poe was so much more than Hux had assumed. Reckless? Yes. Irreverent? Endlessly. Annoying? Constantly. But he was also brave, kind, funny, handsome, and most of all, good. He was a good man.
Honestly, Hux had not known men like Poe Dameron actually existed outside the contraband romance holo-novels Order cadets had passed around in the barracks. The fact Poe seemed to like Hux—war criminal, bastard Hux—was so unbelievable it took a good four months before Hux actually started to believe Poe was being sincere in his attempts at friendship.
Now? Hux would be hate to be without him. He could admit to himself, in the privacy of his own mind, that he rather enjoyed Poe’s company. Because Poe treated him like a...normal man. Just another ‘buddy’, as Poe would put it. Not a disappointment or a weapon or a General or a reprehensible criminal; just a person.
Hux had never had that before. And it—shockingly—made him happier than he knew what to do with. He did not deserve to be happy, he knew that with a clarity as sharp as a monomolecular blade, and he did not deserve Poe’s friendship. But he would take it anyway. He’d never been accused of being selfless, after all.
A bing from Hux’s datapad drew him from his reverie: another comm message from Dameron, P.. Hux opened it to find a Shipyard Archive link, a note that said ’Hope you like this one better, Armitage’, and a series of punctuation arranged to look like sideways hearts.
Hux blinked. Had Poe specifically searched for another smutty story he thought would make Hux feel better? That was...oddly sweet. More odd, really—and sort of inappropriate—but Hux opened the link anyway and stared at the title: General Hugs and Kisses. Stars save him, another terrible pun? The story was new, only posted ten minutes prior, and by that same author, flyboy69.
Despite himself, Hux began to read.
Poe Dameron had been prepared to die for the galaxy. What he had not been prepared for, was to fall in love with General Hux.
Hux paused. Love? Well...that was a little different from the other smutty stories. Intrigued, he continued.
It all began, as the best romance stories do, with bitter enemies becoming begrudging allies, and then eventually, more. After Poe dragged the reluctant redheaded hero from the Steadfast, Hux was thrust into the heart of the Resistance—and into Poe Dameron’s heart too. Because as much as he tried not to, Poe could not stop himself from falling for Hux.
The thing people don’t realise is that Armitage Hux is just a man. No, that’s not true. He’s not just a man. He is an extraordinary man who had the bad luck of being raised by monsters and had to make the best of it, or die. And people tried to kill him. A lot. His father, his ‘allies’, his boss. Kylo Ren. Poe Dameron himself. If you can name them, they probably tried to kill Armitage Hux. But Hux is a survivor. And survivors adapt. Hux isn’t the man people think. He isn’t the man I thought.
Hux paused. His throat felt oddly thick. And the use of I there at the end: a grammatical error or something deeper? Did the author know Hux personally?
Wait.
Was Poe flyboy69?
Hux was caught somewhere between excitement, joy and terror. Because if it was Poe writing these stories about them then...what in the seven Sith hells did that mean? Hux may not be an expert at interpersonal relationships but even he knew that friends do not usually write romantic, sexual stories about each other. Hux read on, determined to look for more clues of the author.
It happened slowly, like a twin sunrise over a Tatooine desert. At first, Hux was more prickly than a pufferpig and twice as hard to handle. Poe was constantly treading the line between trying to befriend Hux and annoying him into withdrawing further. Poe had never felt so woefully inadequate. He was used to being able to charm the fur off a wookie! But Hux? Hux was not easy to charm. He was too cynical, and too assured of his own unloveableness to see what was right in front of him: that Poe Dameron was ass over teakettle for him.
And so Poe decided to woo Armitage Hux properly.
Except Hux would not be wooed. For once, Poe was the one pining pathetically. Oh, he had other offers, but he always turned them down (not that Hux ever seemed to notice, or else he was too aloof to care). Because Poe was so smitten, he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
Poe became intimately reacquainted with his hand. And let himself dream of Hux’s plush lips against his, of his deft, pale hands sliding under Poe’s clothes, of Hux allowing Poe the privilege of taking Hux’s no-doubt long member into his eager and willing mouth.
Poe found himself so distracted by Hux and his ever-growing love and desire for him, that Poe had no choice but to act. And so one evening, when the Resistance base shuffled quietly into the night shift, Poe slipped from his room like a shadow, along the corridor and to Hux’s door.
Hux opened it, one regal red eyebrow raised in question. His ginger locks, like a crown of fire, were still slightly damp from the refresher and he’d changed for bed already. Poe was treated to the sight of Hux in soft, black sleep trousers and a sleeveless grey vest. His arms were pale from a life amongst the stars, but corded with sinewy muscle and embellished with a scattering of soft freckles. Poe wanted to kiss the exposed hollow of his throat and along his sharp collarbones.
“Dameron?” he said, “Do you need something?”
Overcome, Poe said; “Yes. You. I need you.”
Hux blinked, but allowed Poe to push into his room and close the door. He said “What? I do not understand—”
Poe kissed him, hoping the press of his eager mouth would be more demonstrative than his words could ever be. Hux froze for but a moment before surrendering to the kiss. Poe’s hands slid up to cup Hux’s cheeks, thumbs stroking his handsome jaw and the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Hux tangled a hand into Poe’s wild curls and held him in place so he might kiss him more thoroughly. Poe opened his mouth and Hux slid his clever tongue inside, swiping over Poe’s tongue in a way that sent a jolt of heat directly to his groin.
“I need you,” Poe confessed against Hux’s plush, warm lips. “I have needed you for months now and I can’t take it any longer. Please, I love you.”
Hux had to pause. He swallowed several times and blinked rapidly, his eyes wet. He was being ridiculous—becoming so emotional over a fictitious declaration of love—but stars, how it made his chest ache.
Because, and heavens help him, he wanted it to be real.
“I love you too,” Hux said, reading the next line aloud, “and I have never loved anyone like this before, Poe.”
“Me either,” Poe admitted, “and I’m so scared I’ll ruin it with all my usual bantha shit. But if anyone can put up with me and make me fly right, it’s you, Armitage.”
They kissed again, bodies pulled flush in their need to be close, and Poe’s knees went weak at the way Hux cradled Poe’s face and the tenderness with which he held him.
“Make love to me, please?” Poe begged, “I need to feel you.”
Hux nodded and led Poe to his bed. The military issue bunk was small for one man and tiny for two, but they made it work. They both undressed the other with trembling hands and Poe was finally able to see the reality of Hux naked, and how it surpassed his imagination in every respect. Hux was beautiful, ethereally pale and elegant, body slim but strong, with milky thighs and a thatch of neat, red pubes. His erection was as pale as the rest of him as just as beautiful where it curved up against his stomach, the end the same sultry pink as his lips and nipples, and beaded with precome.
Hux wasted no time in lavishing Poe with the pleasure of his tongue over Poe’s nipples, his mouth latching on one to tease it to a peak, while his hands roamed lower to caress between Poe’s legs. Before long, Poe was open and aching and ready, the lube Hux found from his bedside drawers easing the way.
And then Hux slid into Poe and everything in the galaxy narrowed to the feel of Hux buried deep in his wet heat. When Hux moved, the very ground below them moved with him and the stars overhead rearranged their orbits. The universe itself could have blinked out of existence and Poe would have neither noticed or cared. Because this wasn’t some one night stand or mindless liaison: this was Armitage—his Armitage—and Poe loved him.
Hux flicked a switch and his datapad scrolled back to the comm message from Poe. He hit reply, and drafted a response.
Dameron,
It was acceptable.
Yours, Hux
Over the next week, flyboy69 wrote three more stories in the same vein, always about Poe being hopelessly in love with Hux—who eventually fell for Poe—and always followed by a romantic and devastatingly tender sex scene.
Hux may have downloaded them onto a datachip. For posterity.
And Hux was almost certain Poe was the one writing them. There were too many little clues—things that only Poe would say or know—sprinkled throughout the texts. Hux should know; he had made an in depth study of each of them. For example, in the last story, Poe referred to Hux as ‘General Hugs,’ and Poe was the only person alive to have ever called him that ridiculous nickname. And yes, perhaps a dozen Resistance members knew about it, but Hux could not imagine Finn, Rose or Chewbacca sitting down and choosing to write smutty fiction in their spare time.
Well, except Rose. But if she did, she would not write it about Hux.
Hux paced his room and considered the situation. If flyboy69 was in fact Poe Dameron, then would it be a stretch of logic to assume Poe had some agenda in writing them beyond merely stroking his own ego? It was far beyond his usual brand of hijinks, which tended more to making dumb jokes or balancing buckets of water over doorways so they would soak the next unsuspecting moron to walk underneath.
Ruling out a joke, what other reason could Poe have but to express some pent-up feelings? And furthermore, when Hux had expressed his displeasure at the content of the stories to Poe, the content had changed henceforth, morphing from pure smut to romantic confessions of adoration, as if whoever was writing the stories had tailored them to Hux’s wants.
Hux ceased his pacing and sat on the edge of his bunk. Assuming the writer was indeed Poe, and assuming the stories were not an ill-conceived joke, that left but one conclusion: Poe was writing them in order to illicit a response from Hux, either sexual or emotional.
Hux stewed over what to do for two whole days before he decided the only logical course of action was to reciprocate. He would write a story back, scatter in a few clues to his identity—only enough to allow for plausible deniability should he be wrong in his conclusions—and wait.
This proved easier said than done. Hux had plenty of experience writing dry reports and succinct tactical briefings, but a work of fiction? Never. Not once in his entire life. He’d barely even entertained a fantasy, let alone written one down. It would have been an unnecessary frivolity and would have earned him a trip to reconditioning had he done such a thing during his years in the Order.
But Hux was nothing if not adaptable and determined. A survivor, Poe—flyboy69—had said. Though surviving his own mortification at actually writing a sex scene would be nothing short of a miracle.
He made an account on The Shipyard Archive (username: reluctantredhead), glossed over the introduction and set the scene as quickly as possible: Hux accidentally discovers Dameron has a praise kink and uses this against him.
Hux trailed an elegant hand along Dameron’s shoulder and leant in close enough to inhale the scent of him: ozone, warm leather and a hint of spice.
“You have been a very good boy,” Hux
purredsaid, letting his lips ghost over Dameron’s ear. “Good boys are rewarded.”Poe made a sound that was all need. He reached for Hux, clearly meaning to pull him into a kiss, but Hux stepped back smartly and stood at parade rest, his chin tipped up in smug defiance.
“Oh no, you do not get to touch me unless I say so,” Hux sneered. “If we are to do this, it will be on my terms.
Dameron pretended to be put out, but Hux could see the way his pupils dilated. He enjoyed it, being
controlleddominated like this.”Alright, General,” Dameron said with affected insouciance, “I’m game. Tell me what you want.”
”Firstly, you will remove your clothes. All of them. And fold them neatly.”
Dameron raised one of his expressive, dark brows but cooperated. He smirked as his tunic fell away to reveal a tanned chest, pectoral muscles firm and adorned with brown nipples that pebbled in the cool air. A dusting of dark hair arrowed downwards towards the waistband of his fatigues. Dameron paused for but a moment before he hooked both thumbs under the waistband and shamelessly dragged his trousers and underwear down in one smooth manoeuvre. Boots off, clothes placed in a pile, Poe stood to face Hux, utterly nude. His thick—
Oh stars. Hux scrubbed a hand over his face. Was he really about to describe how he imagined Dameron’s manhood to look? He used to command legions of Star Destroyers! And now he had been reduced to writing hackneyed pornography about the idiot rebel he’d accidentally fallen in love with.
Kriff.
He was in love with Poe. It was obvious now.
And he wanted Poe with a bone-deep, all-consuming need. As many lesser man had discovered over the course of Hux’s life, when he set his mind to a thing, he invariably achieved it. Poe would fare no better; Hux would have him.
But rather than schemes or intricate battle plans, the only tactic Hux had available now was, apparently, writing smutty fanfiction.
He started typing once again.
—his thick prick hanging heavy between powerful thighs, the base nestled in a wild patch of dark curls. Hux’s mouth watered at the thought of taking the girth of it between his lips and tasting the musk and salt of Dameron. But that could wait. It would be Dameron’s reward if he played the game well. And so Hux dragged his attention back up to Dameron’s
lovelydoe eyes and held his gaze as he slowly removed his own clothes, one piece at a time. To his credit, Dameron kept eye contact right up until Hux pushed his undershorts down to reveal his erection, whereby Hux was rewarded with Poe’s eyes widening in awe and his tongue darting out to wet his plush bottom lip.“Lie on the bed,” Hux
saidcommanded and was gratified when Poe obeyed without hesitation, lying on his back, his prick jutting up proudly. Hux crawled over Poe and ghosted his fingers up one toned calf, over the soft skin of his inner thigh and skirted the edge of Poe’s pubes, deliberately avoiding his strainingmanhoodmember. Hux stroked up Poe’s stomach, scratching lightly through the patch of dark hair, and up over his ribs to tease one brown nipple. Poe gasped and arched, which earned him a light slap on one thigh by way of chastisement.“Quiet and still,” Hux demanded, “like a good boy.”
Poe swallowed thickly but complied, and so Hux continued his ministrations. He ran his hand over Poe’s rounded shoulder, down one strong arm, lightly stroking the scattering of dark hairs on his forearm and the back of his hand, before sliding back up to repeat this on the other side of Poe’s body. After a while, Hux bent his head and replaced his fingers with his mouth, trailing featherlight kisses all over Poe’s heaving chest and quivering thighs. Poe’s untouched cock leaked steadily, a bead of tantalising precome running down from the slit. It was clear Poe was having to go to some effort to keep still, his hips twitching without his permission.
“What a good, patient boy you are,” Hux said and leaned in to lap the precome from the head of Poe’s prick. Poe made a choked sort of noise but did not move. Pleased, Hux crawled off the bed and stood, then pulled Poe into position, his head dangling upside down off the end of the bed. Hux moved in close to straddle Poe’s head, and want spiked sharply as he looked down on Poe’s upside-down face, flushed cheeks and dark eyes gazing up at him from between Hux’s pale thighs. “Open now, and I will allow you to taste me.”
Poe obediently opened his mouth and waited, hands fisting the bedsheets to keep from reaching up and touching. Hux took his time, first smearing precome across Poe’s cheek and lower lip, marking him, before pushing into his mouth. At this angle, Poe could open his throat and take Hux’s entire length into his mouth, which he did eagerly. Hux moaned in pleasure; Poe’s mouth was a revelation, all wet-heat, with his throat fluttering around the head of Hux’s prick. Hux buried both hands in the wild curls at Poe’s temples to hold him in place and then rocked his hips, fucking deep into Poe’s mouth. Poe made a noise of pleasure in his throat, which vibrated deliciously around Hux’s cock.
Need overtook Hux faster than anticipated and he rutted more deeply into Poe’s mouth. Poe drooled around his length, his hot
lascivioustongue pressing against the underside, and Hux praised him; “Look at you, so beautiful with my prick in your mouth. How good you look like this, all mine.”Poe’s prick, which Hux had a magnificent view of, jumped against his belly at Hux’s words, leaving a wet smear of precome. The sight of Poe so desperate and so turned on by sucking Hux’s cock sped Hux towards his inevitable ending. He buried himself deep in Poe’s throat and held himself there until Poe’s eyes started to water. Poe swallowed desperately around the head and that pushed Hux over into ecstasy. He came hard, pulsing thick spurts of spend down Poe’s throat which he swallowed greedily. As Hux withdrew, legs shaky from the sheer force of his release, Poe licked every drop from his softening length.
Hux bent over and kissed Poe’s swollen lips, tasting the salt of his own release. “My good boy,” Hux cooed, “you took it so well for me.”
Poe’s chest heaved and his weeping prick had left a pool of precum in the dip of his hipbone. He was clearly desperate for release, and so Hux instructed him to sit up. Poe did as he was bid, but swayed a little on the edge of the bunk, cheeks and chest both flushed pink. Hux knelt carefully and parted Poe’s thighs.
“My
good boydarling,” Hux whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of Poe’s knee, “you meanyou’re soI have come toI am enamouredhow I love you.”Unable to keep quiet, Poe replied; “I love you too, Armitage.” He sounded wrecked, as if he’d swallowed a cup of gravel. At that, Hux leaned in and took Poe into his mouth. Poe cupped one of Hux’s cheeks and Hux allowed it now; the game was devolving into something more intimate. Hux licked and sucked at Poe’s prick, teasing the head with his tongue before sliding his lips down until his nose touched Poe’s pubes. Poe sighed in pleasure and Hux bobbed his head, one hand slipping lower to tease Poe’s balls, which tightened immediately under Hux’s attention. Hux licked a finger then slid his hand lower still, to press gently at the tight furl of Poe’s hole. Poe’s cock twitched hard in Hux’s mouth and Poe moaned.
“Armitage,” Poe said, his tone almost pleading, “yes, stars, like that, baby.”
Hux obliged, slowly pressing his digit into the tight ring of muscle until it was buried within Poe. Poe’s hips jerked as Hux crooked his finger, finding the bundle of nerves within.
“Oh, Armitage, I’m gonna—” Poe said, but Hux did not withdraw. He worked Poe faster and deeper until every muscle in Poe seemed to tense at once, his back arching beautifully, head thrown back, as he hung on the edge of release for a long moment. Then, he shattered, cock pulsing in Hux’s mouth, filling him with Poe’s seed. Hux swallowed it down, his own prick twitching again in interest as he felt Poe come apart.
After, as they lay side-by-side on Hux’s narrow bunk, Poe said; “Did you mean it? What you said when we were fucking?”
Hux looked at the vulnerability in Poe’s expression and found himself quite incapable of lying. “Every word,” he said, “every single word.
Hux read the text once to check for typos, titled the work ‘Thrusting into Rebellion’, then hit upload before he could think better of it.
And then, he waited.
It did not take long.
Hux walked into the mess at lunch the next day to find Poe holding court with a group of his friends, a datapad in hand. Snap Wexley, Finn, Jessika Pava, Stomeroni Starck, Rose, and a half-dozen other pilots and technicians Hux did not know the names of were absolutely rapt as Poe read aloud from the datapad, making broad and rather graphic gestures with his other hand.
Poe did a passable impression of Hux’s Imperial accent and read: “‘What a good, patient boy you are,’ Hux said and leaned in to lap the precome from the head of Poe’s prick. Poe made a choked sort of noise but did not move. Pleased, Hux crawled off the bed and stood, then pulled Poe into position, his head dangling upside-down off the end of the bed.’”
No! Stars help him, Poe was reading from Thrusting into Rebellion! Mortified, Hux marched over to the table and pulled Poe up from his seat by the collar of his flight jacket.
“Ah, woah!” Poe exclaimed, caught off guard as he stumbled to his feet. “Hux? What are you doin’?”
“Stopping this—this wildly unprofessional and inappropriate display!” Hux snapped. His cheeks felt hot enough to adequately heat doonium to slag.
“Oh, you have no idea!” Poe grinned, teeth flashing. “There’s a new author on The Shipyard Archive and you have to read their fic!”
“By reluctantredhead,” Hux said, “yes, I am aware of it.”
“You’ve read it?” Snap said. All eyes at the table landed on Hux.
“Have you?” Rose piped up, delighted. “So tell us, was it accurate?”
Starck snorted a laugh and Jessika hid a smirk behind her cup of caf.
“Just don’t start calling Poe a ‘good boy’ in public,” Finn said. At least he had the manners to look uncomfortable. “I really do not need to hear that.”
The table erupted into laughter and Hux’s stomach sank into his feet. He felt like that awkward teenager back on the Absolution, perpetually the subject of everyone else’s cruel jokes.
Poe must have sensed Hux’s discomfort as he guided Hux away from the table with a hand in the middle of his back. Once they were far enough away to not be overheard, Poe said; “Hey, they don’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t they?” Hux said, folding his arms. “Because from where I am standing, it seems rather as if they mean to make fun of me for it.”
“Kriff, I...that wasn’t what I wanted to happen,” Poe said, suitably contrite. “What can I do?”
“Stop telling your friends about the indelicate stories people write about us!” Hux exclaimed, his voice echoing in the cavernous mess hall. His gaze flicked back to the table, where Rose had taken up the datapad and was monologuing dramatically from Thrusting into Rebellion. Hux felt as if he’d been pinned to a display case like a captured butterfly and presented stripped nude for all and sundry to see his every want.
“It’s public archive,” Poe said with a shrug, “it’s hardly a secret. Not my fault people got wind of this.”
“Not your fault?” Hux harrumphed. “Not your fault?! You showed these blasted stories to me. You were practically chomping at the bit to make me read them. And now you’ve utterly humiliated me by dragging everyone else into it too!”
“Humiliated? Hux, it’s just a story, nothing to be embarrassed about,” Poe replied, one hand coming up to rest on Hux’s shoulder. Hux glared at the hand until Poe removed it. “And it’s not my fault there’s so many captivating stories about us.”
“You’re the idiot writing them!” Hux snapped.
Poe opened his mouth and then shut it again with an audible click, his cheeks pinking in a blush. For a brief moment, Hux felt a surge of vindictive pride: he had achieved the previously unattainable and rendered Poe Dameron speechless.
“I...well you see, the thing is...you have no proof of that,” Poe started, but soon gave in, his expression turning hangdog. “How did you know?”
Hux sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Because you’re an idiot. And a transparent one at that. And you called me Hugs in several stories. You’re the only person who has ever called me that ridiculous nickname.”
“Oh, shit,” Poe grimaced. He folded his arms and toed the floor with a scuffed boot. “Well. It’s done. So what, you gonna banish me from our friendship?” He was trying to play it off, pretending it did not matter. But Hux could see the way his jaw had tightened and the way his shoulders had rounded defensively. He was bracing for a rejection.
“Friendship?” Hux said, incredulous. “We aren’t friends, Dameron.”
And oh. Oh no. Poe’s expression cracked like a dropped glass. Dammit. Hux could give an eloquent speech and he could, apparently, write a fairly well-received fanfiction. But in matters of social interaction, words often failed him. Or he simply selected the wrong ones.
“No—you moron—I don’t mean it like that,” Hux rushed out, eager to squash whatever incorrect assumption Poe had made based on Hux’s ineloquent words. Hux grasped Poe’s elbow and Poe stared at the spot where Hux’s fingers met his tunic like he didn’t quite understand what was happening. Which was fair. Hux never usually touched Poe first. “I meant, friends don’t write pornography about each other. That suggests...something more intimate.”
“Wait, what?”
Hux blinked. Kriff, he’d revealed his hand a little early.
As realisation dawned, Poe’s expression morphed to utter joy. “You are reluctantredhead?!”
“No.” Hux paused and sighed. “Yes. Fine. I wrote one back. But you started it!”
“And you wrote a story so hot I came without touching myself!”
“Wait, you what?”
“Let’s put a pin in that,” Poe said, “not what we should be focussing on right now.”
“This is...insane. We’ve both lost the plot,” Hux said.
“No, I think we found it. A really smutty plot,” Poe said. He grinned that unfair, utterly devastating smile and Hux’s cheeks heated at being on the receiving end of it.
“And ah, where do you see this plot going?”
“Oh, I think it’s gonna be a whole epic long fic,” Poe said, gesturing with one tanned hand, “proper enemies to lovers scenario, full of overblown sex scenes and mutual pining.”
“And the ending?” Hux asked tentatively. He felt like he was skipping to the last paragraph, desperate to read the conclusion but terrified of what he might find there.
Poe reached over and took Hux’s hand. He pressed it between both of his, palms warm and callused from years of pulling yokes and holding blasters.
“Happy,” Poe said, “with you, that’s the only possible ending.”
A week later, the holonet was in uproar when ‘freedomrebel77’ posted a new picture to Holosnap: a blurry image of Hux and Poe kissing, Hux’s back pressed to a stack of crates as Poe devoured his mouth. The caption simply said: #canon.