Archive of Our Own

Armitage Hux has almost finished his morning's work. He disassembled one of the droids that patrol the outer parameters, repaired smaller wear and tear, and cleaned its insides of rust and small bugs. After an oil bath that had elicited several delighted beeps from TDK-D4, Hux put the droid back together. Now all that he's left to do is reattach its antenna and it will look like new.

The same cannot be said of Hux. The midday heat on Ajan Kloss is stifling and combined with the dirty work he does these days, Hux is covered in a sticky layer of grime. He suppresses the urge to wipe away the sweat gathered on his forehead, as that would only make it worse, and gives the sonic screwdriver another turn.

No one who sees him now would recognize him as one of the most feared men in the galaxy, which he was just a few months ago. He's still as clean-shaven as ever, but his hair is longer and not kept in check by oodles of product. This has not been a conscious decision – it was simply one of many things he has left behind on the Steadfast. Not that he left of his own free will. He didn't plan to be shot at by Allegiant General Pryde. It was pure luck that the stormtroopers who were to dispose of his body discovered that he was still alive. It was even luckier that they didn't finish the job, but released him in an escape pod. To his further astonishment, his luck held out, and the Resistance managed to rescue him before he bled to death in the capsule.

The antenna is back on, and Hux stretches his back. It gives a satisfying pop, but the tension in his shoulders is still there. Nothing unusual there - Hux cannot remember a time his shoulders haven't felt stiff and tense.

“You can go back out.”

“Brrop!”

“ Just doing my job so you can do yours.”

TDK-D4 rushes away to rejoin the patrolling, and Hux starts cleaning his workspace. He's bringing order to the galaxy on a much smaller scale these days, but he finds it oddly satisfying to work with his hands. Hux is startled out of his musings by the appearance of Major Rose at his elbow

“Armitage, you ready for lunch?”, Tico asks. As his supervisor, she has made it a point to not only make sure he does good work but that he complies with the terms of his probation. All of them.

Hux is ready, technically, but he would rather go clean up than sit in a room full of loud people. Besides, the food is way too spicy for his likes.

“I’m sorry, Major, as you can see, I am much too dirty to eat in company.”

She looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“Is this you trying to get out of spending time with others? You know that having a social life was one of the requirements from your psychologist.”

“This is me being covered in motor oil and bug remains, and not wanting to consume any of that with my food.”

The bright smile that suddenly appears on Tico’s face doesn't bode well for Hux.

“How about a compromise? You can go clean up now, I’ll bring you something from the cantina-”

“But-”

Tico waves his protest away.

“That’s non-negotiable. So, you will eat what I bring you, and you’ll come have a drink with the rest of us tonight, or it’s the cantina right now, bugs and all.”

He knows from experience that he doesn’t stand a chance when Tico has decided that something is good for him. Hux doesn’t know why, but she has taken it upon herself to take Hux under her wings. It is both amusing and irritating. So, he reluctantly agrees to the lesser of the two evils on offer.

“I’ll come with you tonight.”

When he arrives in the cantina later in the day, he is relieved to see that his companions for the evening are just the usual people he and Tico work with. There's Minlinlu Vria, their Mon-Calamari welding specialist, and Pash Chi'ruk, a jovial gray-skinned Twi’lek. They are deep into a discussion with Tico.

Chi'ruk turns to him as soon as Hux awkwardly sits down.

“Hux, back me up here. There’s no need to re-route emergency power through the carbon 12 wave propeller to invert a neogenic fragmentor, is there?”

“Not when the charge splitter isn’t overheating, no.”

Vria slams a fist on the table.

“You can’t be serious! It’s way too dangerous to take that chance!”

And just like that, Hux is in the middle of the conversation. The talk thankfully keeps to technical topics Hux feels safe and willing to give his opinions on. He is sure Tico had a hand in that. Hux is close to admit that he's enjoying himself when a rowdy group enters the cantina.

Led by General Poe Dameron, who is always in the middle of the biggest commotion, followed closely by FN-2187. When the former stormtrooper isn’t of with the scavenger Ren had so much trouble with, he and Dameron are joined at the hip. Hux has no idea why he's so bothered by that, and takes another sip of his drink to hide his frown. The Moogan tea he ordered turned out to be of the alcoholic variant, but it was palatable enough to tempt him to order a second glass.

Tico raises her hand and waves to the newcomers.

“Finn! Poe! Over here!”

Dameron waves back enthusiastically, and before Hux knows it, FN-2187, Dameron, and the group of pilots and ground personnel have joined their table. Of course not without making a big fuss and dragging over a second table with as much racket as possible. Hux is only just able to save his drink before it spills over.

Dameron plops down next to Hux and gives him a quick smile. Amid the sounds of the others still finding their seats, he leans over.

"Hiya Hugs. You all bug-free now?"

"Are you and Tico exchanging notes on me?"

"Oh, yeah, we're watching you. Closely."

Hux can tell by Dameron's tone that the other man is teasing. How things have changed. And then again they haven't when he thinks back to Dameron's prank call.

"I'm flattered," he deadpans.

By now, the rest of Dameron's group has settled down, and that is the end of a chance for a civilized conversation.

The others urge Dameron to tell about a past conquest, a fling in a back alley gone wrong. It is astonishing that he shows no signs of embarrassment but is laughing along with the rest of the group. His hands move along with the story, and helped by the light buzz he has going on, Hux spaces out for a bit, only catching bits and pieces of the conversation while watching Dameron’s hands.

Those hands have held his once. He had been close to dying when his rescuers found him and brought him back to the Resistance base on Arjan Kloss. The Resistance’s doctor saved him in an emergency operation, and when he woke up, Dameron was sitting by his bed. When he realized that Hux was awake, he grabbed his hands and gave them a soft squeeze before calling for the doctor. Such a small thing, but his mind keeps going back to it.

In the Order, he had made sure to be untouchable. Not that he had any illusions anyone would have wanted to touch him, he had after all done his best to be as aloof as possible. That Dameron did it voluntarily —what significance does that have? Chances are that to Dameron, it was entirely meaningless, so why can't Hux feel the same and forget about it?

Dameron finishes the story and is rewarded by loud laughter from his eager listeners. Well, he at least finishes a story, Hux realizes he’s not sure if it’s still about the same encounter.

“And that’s how we ended up in a prison cell on Trar.”

“Was it least worth it?” Tico asks, her expression somewhere between amusement and horror.

“Oh, yeah, his back was way better after, so it was worth it, indecent exposure and all. That’s at least what he said.”

More laughter. It has to be the alcohol that makes Hux do what he does next. “I never liked being touched”, he blurts out. All of a sudden, everyone is looking at him. Some pitying, some grinning, and one with thinly veiled disgust. FN-2187... Finn looks knowing, like this is an experience they have in common, from their years in the Order. Hux looks away from him, which is a mistake, cause he catches Dameron’s eyes. The look in them can only be called intrigued, and Hux can feel his face flood with embarrassment.

Surprisingly, it is Finn, of all people, who saves him.

“No wonder. Wouldn’t have wanted to touch one of those officer types the Order was so fond to breed out, either.”

After that, there’s more alcohol, and fortunately, the talking goes back to safer topics. Hux refuses all further drinks, and as one of the soberer, he is given the thankless job to get Dameron’s drunken ass back to his quarters.

Dameron can walk in a straight line, but he’s one of those people who get talkative and happy when inebriated. It’s like herding a flock of porgs.

“Look, it’s such a beautiful night Hugs!” Dameron exclaims as he leans out of an open window.

"It's the same as every night here. Too hot and too humid."

"But look at those moons. One is more beautiful than the other!"

"I'm sure they are," Hux replies, definitely not looking at Dameron's outstretched butt.

"Come on now, Dameron, it's late and I'm sure you need your beauty sleep."

A few detours later, they arrive at Dameron's door.

“Here we are. Can I leave you on your own, or do you need me to do anything else, Dameron?”

Dameron wavers and leans on Hux.

“Like, what? You going to tug me in?”

“I promised Tico I would make sure you arrived safely in your quarter. Turndown service isn’t included in that.”

“Pity.”

Dameron leans back against his door, looking Hux over.

“Such a shame. You not liking to be touched, I mean. Your back always looks painfully stiff, bet I could help you out there.”

Hux can't believe Dameron is intoxicated enough to come on to him. And he’s angry that he’d do such a thing when Hux desperately tries to not think about the other man and the way his hand felt in his.

“Dameron you’re drunk. Just get in there, drink some water, and sleep it off.”

Instead, Dameron comes closer and pokes a finger into Hux’s chest.

“I bet I could. Could make you.”

Hux leans back from the touch and frowns.

“Make me what?”

Dameron gives him a slow wink.

“I bet I could make you enjoy being touched.”

Hux takes another step back.

“Stop it with this nonsense. There will be no bet to give you the satisfaction of showing that the stuffy First Order general just needs the right touch to loosen up.”

Dameron holds up his hands, lightly swaying on his feet.

“It was just an offer, really, I mean, I do it for everyone that asks me nicely enough and needs it.”

Hux feels his mouth go slack. Dameron has sex with anyone that asks? That’s disturbing. And a little arousing. But mostly disturbing. And Hux didn’t have enough to drink to deal with this. Or too much, he’s not sure at this point, so he shakes his head, and walks away from Dameron.

When he settles down for the night, sleep escapes him. His mind is assaulted by images of Dameron peering up at him with half-lidded eyes, offering himself to Hux. His cock grows painfully hard and refuses to go down. Not even trying to remember how he once surprised Pryde picking his nose does the trick. Finally, he has had enough and takes himself into hand. One angry wank later, he falls into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, Hux has made up his mind. If Dameron is stupid enough to want to have sex with him, he will take him up on the offer. It is just to satisfy his own curiosity, he tells himself.

Hux finds him in the hangar that houses most of the Resistance's light fighters. The place is busy, with personnel and droids working on making sure the ships are combat-ready. Dameron stands on a hydraulic hoist and lovingly polishes his x-wing to a shine. He seems to be in a good mood, whistling a tune accompanied by the beeps of his BB unit.

Hux clears his throat behind him. Dameron casts a glance over his shoulder at Hux and gives him one of his easy grins.

“Heya Hugs! What brings you here this beautiful morning?”

Dameron continues to rub vigorously over his ship while talking to Hux. It’s strange that a general would take it upon himself to do such menial work. Dameron claimed that he needs it, that he wasn’t made to be a paper-pusher when Hux remarked on it before. And it’s certainly not stranger than that other service Dameron offers.

“Dameron. The bet is on. My quarters, tonight at 8.”

“What bet are you talking about?”

Seems like Dameron hasn’t expected him to take him by his words. Hux is not about to let him off the hook easily.

“You know which one I mean – you weren’t that drunk.”

Dameron swipes around, the dirty cloth falling from his hand to the floor. He's been sweating - his hair looks damp and hangs almost into his eyes, and his bare arms and tight tank-top are streaked with dirt. Hux has no idea how that unkempt sight still manages to make his stomach tighten.

“Don’t be late. And wash off that grease, I don’t need you to dirty my sheets more than necessary.”

With these words Hux turns around, satisfied with himself and the world at Dameron's astonished expression. As so often in his life, however, he has rejoiced a little too soon – Dameron has to have the last word and calls after him for the whole hangar to hear:

“Don’t you worry Hux, I’ll give you a good rubdown!”

Hux grits his teeth at the crassness and hastens out.

At 7 pm, Hux is back in his quarters. He’s only recently been upgraded to them, after a longer stunt in the make-shift cell he was put in after being released from the medbay. An enemy turned spy turned patient turned prisoner turned to whatever the hell Hux is these days, and it’s enough to make him dizzy when he thinks about it. So he doesn’t and makes one more time sure that the small room is spotless. The bed is made according to the rigorous standards drilled into him since childhood, the floor is spotless and no personal things are scattered around. Hux himself has used the sonic showers twice, to make extra sure there’s no dirt anywhere on his body.

He knows Dameron doesn’t care about these things from the glances he’s had into the other’s room, but it gives Hux a sense of security. It is an aspect of his life that he can fully control.

Dameron is punctual. Hux quickly lets him in, resisting the temptation to look left and right to see if anyone has seen the other man enter. Dameron wheels in a contraption, a compact cube with a handle and rollers, and plops a bag down on the floor next to it.

“Hey Hux. Since you were so worried about your sheets, I brought my own bench.”

“Is that customary?”

“Well, it’s not only for your sake. This way I do not have to bend down so far.”

“You what?”

“This is hard work you know, getting all that stiffness out.” Dameron gives him one of his obnoxious winks.

Hux has never heard sex referred to this way before. Has to be one of those colloquialisms these people are so fond of.

“Can we make some more room here? Moving that chair a bit over should do it, it’s not like you got a lot of stuff.” Dameron frowns. “You DO get that stipend paid for your work, do you?”

“Yes. I don’t like spending it frivolously.”

“You’re in luck than that my services come for free.”

“Do you do this for everyone?”

“No, this is more of a hobby. I got this other job, you know?”

“Of course.”

Dameron presses something on the cube he brought, and it unfolds into a padded bench. He takes a towel out of his bag and spreads it out while he continues talking.

"I took it as an extracurricular at the academy if you'd really like to know."

"That's a thing?" Hux incredulously asks.

"Oh, yeah, and one my fellow cadets certainly appreciated," Dameron answers, so nonchalant about it that Hux decides to not make a big deal out of it.

"I can imagine."

“Mind if I light up some candles and dim the light?”

Why would Hux mind? There are scars on his body, and he knows he’s not much to look at. Thin as a slip of paper, his father called him. He nods his agreement, and Dameron continues his preparations.

“So Hugs, you ready to do this?”

Is he? Can he do it, be all casual about sex like everyone else here is? Of course he can. It's what his sexual encounters have always been like.

Quick fumbles in the dark when he was a cadet. Another's hand wrapped around him, jerking each other off. Uncomfortable blowjobs, his knees and jar aching while the older recruit he had fancied himself in love with hurried towards his own release without any regard for Hux.

A tryst with a fellow officer in his early twenties that ended as soon as it began when Hux decided the constant fear of getting back-stabbed (figuratively and literally) by someone he would have to let close just wasn’t worth it.

So, it's not like he's a blushing virgin. He's done things. He just didn’t care all that much for most of them and especially not the price they came with.

And none of those touches have made him shiver as that one single touch of Dameron’s hand on his did. Was it a fluke, caused by his less-than-ideal state, or is there really something about Dameron that’s different? Hux doubts that there is, and he’s willing to show that to himself, and to Dameron. It will be his pleasure to take the other man down a notch or two, and it will be worth it even if that’s all he’ll get from this encounter.

“Yes. Do your worst.”

Dameron laughs, not mockingly, but with a warm, pleasant sound.

“You sound like you expect to be tortured. I promise it can get a little uncomfortable now and then, but the result will be worth it.”

“That doesn't sound as reassuring as you probably think.”

“You will just have to trust me,” Dameron answers, “Can you please take off your shirt? You can keep on the rest, for now.”

Hux gives a shaky nod and undresses. He folds the black long-sleeved top and places it on his bed. He briefly considers removing his gloves, but Dameron said nothing about them, did he?

Dameron pats the bench. “Have a seat please.”

Hux does, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bench, his back ramrod straight.

“Before we do this for real, do you have any former injuries I should know about?”

Injuries that will hinder Hux from having sex?

“I don’t think so,” he answers.

“Good. I thought we could start with your hands.”

Hux's nervousness turns up a notch. Does Dameron know how affected Hux was by his brief touch? Is he about to make fun of him? And what is sexual about hands, anyway? His fingers dig into his palms, a familiar hurt.

“What about my hands?”

“That way you can see what I’m doing.”

Hux takes a shaky breath and forces himself to uncurl his fists when Dameron reaches for his hands.

“These will have to go.” Dameron takes his time taking off the two soft leather gloves, carefully laying them aside before he cradles Hux’s bare hands in his. They are larger than Hux's, Dameron’s fingers are shorter, but his palms are wide whereas Hux's are narrow. The hands comfortably enclose Hux's with a light grip.

This is the moment Hux knows he’s in trouble. He is hyper-aware of where his skin touches Dameron's. A shiver runs through his body, and every single ginger hair on his arms stands up. Not a fluke, then - it's all Dameron.

“It's hard to believe that you're slaving away for Rose every day. Your hands feel as soft as a baby’s, Hugs!” Dameron grins at him while he rubs his thumbs over Hux’s palms. It is a sublime sensation, and Hux can feel his heart speed up. Unfortunately, Dameron then lets go of Hux's hands.

“I got some oil here, makes it easier for me and more comfortable for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” Hux asks. Certainly, Dameron desires some reciprocation.

“ Just try to relax if you can.”

“If you’re sure.”

The next few minutes are torture for Hux. Dameron’s warm oiled fingers glide over his forearms and his hands in a slow motion. His skin grows warm as Dameron concentrates his ministrations on each of his fingers, rubbing and stroking his flesh.

He doesn’t have much experience when it comes to foreplay, but even without extensive knowledge, Hux knows that this is highly unusual. However, he can't bring himself to wonder about it, given the feelings the touches trigger in him. Dameron keeps fondling him, sometimes digging in, sometimes caressing. Hux had no idea until now that hands and arms can be an erogenous zone. All too soon and not soon enough, Dameron lets go of him, wiping his hands on a towel.

“There. All done. Feels good?”

“It was adequate,” Hux answers, trying to sound like his usual aloof self.

“High praise coming from you,” Dameron teases, good-naturedly, “Let me wipe off that oil.”

Dameron does so with the help of another soft towel.

“There, now you won’t get the rest of your clothes dirty. Please take them off and lay down on your front.”

“What about you?”

Hux sure hopes that Dameron will follow suit. There’s never been a doubt in his mind that he finds Dameron pleasing to look at, not even at the height of their hostilities.

“I’ll turn around. Tell me when you’re finished.”

It's oddly endearing that Dameron is suddenly being modest, but then, the whole affair is much more formal than Hux expected. Strange that there are so many cultural differences between the Resistance and the First Order. It bears repeating – so far, this has been the strangest tryst Hux has ever had, but also one of the most pleasing. He decides to trust Dameron once more.

“You can turn around, I’m finished.”

“Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“ Just a bit surprised, that’s all. Let me cover you a bit so you won’t get cold.”

Hux notes with satisfaction that Dameron sounds like he's not too unpleased by the sight of Hux’s form. The next moment, another towel covers Hux's bare back and butt.

Dameron clears his throat, and Hux hears him operate the dispenser on the oil bottle.

“Getting some more oil, no need to rub you raw.”

Well, Hux sure is glad to know that Dameron doesn’t expect that Hux will let him go in dry, and is about to say that when Dameron’s hands touch his shoulders. Hux can’t help but flinch and silently admonishes himself for it.

“Sorry ‘bout that Hugs. I’ll give you a warning next time I’ll put my hands on you, alright?”

Hux gives a sharp nod and forces himself to stay still. Dameron rubs and squeezes his shoulders, and Hux can’t help but moan at the sensation. Dameron’s warm broad hands aren’t exactly as tender on his back as they were on his arms, but he seems to know how to make Hux feel good.

“And? Am I close to winning our bet?”

Hux snorts and refuses to answer. So far, he has been able to avoid showing Dameron how much he enjoys his unusual techniques, and he’d prefer if it stayed like that for now. As long as he's lying on his front, he should be safe enough.

Dameron's hands are almost at his butt now, and Hux is bracing himself for when they get there. He holds his breath, his back tingling wherever Dameron's hands stroke him. Just a few more inches…

“Good. That’s your back done. Turn around for me?”

What? Is Dameron playing with him?

Hux is dismayed, but turns around and lays back down anyway. When it’s no longer wedged under his body, his cock uses the newly gained space to proudly stand up. Great – he provided Dameron with the perfect basis to declare the bet lost for Hux. He doesn't care about winning anymore, though - it's more that he's afraid that his losing the bet will be the end of their encounter, which he’s enjoying way too much to end now. Plus, he's still determined to get Dameron out of his kriffing clothes.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It happens," Dameron says, looking anywhere but at Hux's erection.

“Why would I be?”

“You’re right, it’s just natural. Doesn’t happen to everyone, but it’s not uncommon.”

Dameron has the oil bottle in hand, ready to pump out some more.

“Are you telling me some of the people you’re so kind to sleep with aren’t aroused?”

Dameron lets go of the bottle which thuds to the floor, but he ignores it in favor of staring at Hux with wide eyes.

“Never mind, it’s none of my business.”

“Hux. What are you, I mean, what do you think the bet is about?”

Hux frowns. What is going on here?

“You made the bet that you could make me like being touched. Make me like having sex. Like that guy in your story that was so smitten with you, he was okay with being arrested for you.”

Dameron stares at him with bewilderment written all over his handsome face. Hux could relish the sight more if he had an inkling of what was going on. There’s only one thing he knows – something has gone terribly wrong.

“You thought that I proposed to sleep with you to make you like being touched?”

“You did!”

“A massage! That was what that story was about. That’s what I do for others – I’m not the base’s unofficial sex worker! Not that there’s anything wrong with sex work.”

Oh. Oh no.

“You have to leave. Now. And if I ever find out that you told anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

If the humiliation doesn’t kill Hux first, that is. At least his erection is easing down.

“Wait, wait, wait, Hugs, just give me a minute here.”

Dameron steps closer and presses Hux back onto the bench with a light touch on his chest.

“This has been torture for me. Getting to touch you, but not touch you? Having to cover you back up?”

“Dameron you’re spouting nonsense, I don’t understand a word you say.”

Dameron has a self-deprecating smile on his face when he answers, “I liked touching you a little too much, is what I’m trying to say. Never happened before.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Dameron’s smile fades, replaced by an unmistakable look of desire. He looks down at Hux, then lowers his mouth on Hux’s. Their lips meet in a gentle caress that soon becomes less careful. Hux submits himself to every heady sensation, forgetting about his embarrassment.

Some frantic kisses later, Dameron rests his forehead against his.

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time.”

Hux wonders if he would have ever found out if the misunderstanding hadn’t happened.

“You must think I'm so foolish.”

“Actually, Hux, I’m kind of flattered. You must have a high opinion of my stamina. Sexing up a whole base sounds like a lot of work.”

Hux groans. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone, but yeah, I might make a joke or two.”

“Good thing I found a way to shut you up, then,” Hux answers, and draws Dameron's mouth back to his.

Turns out that Hux does like being touched if it’s done right.