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Poe has Hux pressed against the wall of the interrogation room before the door has fully closed.
He is fully aware that there are cameras in the corner of the room, recording every action of their so called not prisoners (apparently they were morally better than having prisoners- tho Poe really would like to know what else you called someone locked in a room who can not leave), but he had taken the time to make sure they were set to wipe any recordings of the room for the afternoon he had chosen to enact this little plan of his.
Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach, whether in arousal or shame over having the forethought to plan this sexual escapade thoroughly enough as to not get caught- he was unsure.
He should be ashamed that he had put enough intention into this rendezvous of his, but he didn't have the energy to care. No. Especially not when he was already half hard at the mere thought of seeing General Hux again. At having him at his mercy. At having the privilege of dissecting such an important man- of being trusted to do it (whether or not Hux would ever dare admit it was an entirely different story, but Poe would never do something he wasn’t sure the other person didn’t at least mostly want).
Poe swallows the other man’s surprised gasp at the intensity in which he is slammed into the wall. Tongues and teeth clash together, fighting for dominance in a dance neither one of them are willing to lose (at least not so early on in their fight).
His hand moves to grasp the back of Hux’s neck, a possessive hand squeezing tighter as they make out even more intensely. The hand acts as both a warning and promise- a clear message present in the position they have found themselves in. You are mine. I own you.
“Kriff,” Hux’s voice is somewhere between a moan and a gasp, “I missed you..” The words slip out of the other man’s mouth seemingly without his own permissions and Poe can’t keep himself from biting down on his lip, hard, at the shockingly sentimental phrase.
It isn’t the first time Armitage has let such brutally sweet phrases tumble out of his mouth during the heat of the moment, but it never ceases to throw Poe off kilter. Phrases like ‘I miss you’, ‘I need you’ and god forbid ‘I love you’, make everything feel too tangible- too real. And holy shit does Poe need nothing more than to pretend like there is nothing real about any of this. No emotions. No nothing. Just bodies and heat and clashing teeth and the slapping sound of his cock against the other man’s pale ass.
Because if there is something real about any of this he has to admit that he lives in a world where he can never truly have what he desires, neither of them can. Does it count as star crossed lovers if one of you is so morally right, and the other so horribly, wrong?
Instead of examining the feelings bubbling to the surface of his mind, Poe simply removes his lips from the other’s- pulling back long enough to let his laughter bubble up and fill the interrogation room with its warmth.
“I can kriffing tell, sweetheart.” He teases, the word sweetheart dripping with insincerity and the type of callousness that comes from screwing on and off for months and never, ever discussing their emotions afterwards.
Don’t get attached to the evil villainous man you are kriffing is a rule he holds close to his heart. He can always be taken away, ripped from him at any given moment, and holy shit would be the most horrible thing to ever happen in this universe. He would not only be forced to confront the feelings that had planted themselves in his heart without his permission, but would also be confronted with other people's perception of him shifting when they discover how crestfallen he would become. And his stomach churns at the thought of the loss of respect his peers would have for him if this whole ordeal ever got out. So no, no, no. No emotions could ever be involved. (He refused to admit that perhaps it was far to late to banish emotions that had already taken hold of his entire mind, body and spirit).
A blush spills across Armitage’s cheeks and Poe smirks at the display of embarrassment and arousal painted across the other man’s face. He is pleased to be able to ruffle the others' feathers so easily. He takes it as a sign of his own merit in the field of sexual encounters and rivalries- though this is the only instance in which those two fields seem to ever cross.
“You’re so pathetic.” He practically coos at the man, laughing once more at the scowl Armitage gives him. It really is adorable how riled up the other man can get over simple words.
He looks like a baby loth-cat, orange hair slightly overgrown and sticking out in every direction, blush painting his cheeks and stubble on his chin. Hux has only been here for a few cycles with the others, not prisoners, but the effects of missing his strict daily grooming routine are already evident on the other man. And frankly the difference between him and his normal self gets Poe off to a certain extent. Can you blame him? There is something so undeniably arousing about watching someone so formerly powerful lose even the smallest sense of control over his own body and appearance.
Clearly trying to regain control over the situation, ironic considering the musings Poe has fallen into, Hux growls under his breath. He feels the other man’s hands trail down his side and he hates the way he leans into the feeling of slender fingers mapping the expanse of his own scared skin from the base of his neck down to his v-line. He feels his hips start to buck up uncontrollably as Armitage’s fingers dip lower. Poe snarls, tangling his fingers into the base of Hux’s neck- pulling until a moan escapes his lips.
And then there are lips connecting to his own chapped ones again. But this time Poe is refusing to fight the other in some sort of game they always seem to be playing, but never acknowledge truly, and he is guiding the other in their kiss by pulling at the back of the other man’s neck- effortlessly domineering every moment shared between them.
“I’m going to take you apart, sweetheart.” Poe whispers, warm and hot on Hux’s lips, after he yanks silky hair firmly enough that he can guide the other man’s lips away from his own long enough to breathe.
His other hand is pressing fingerprint-shaped bruises into Armitage’s hipbones, marks that he hopes won’t fade for many cycles. He briefly pictures Armitage stuck in this interrogation cell, his only proof of anything but the hatred of those around him being the marks that Poe left on him in this stolen moment between them. The thought of Hux pressing his own smaller fingertips into the finger-shaped bruises hidden under his clothing, makes even more heat pool into Poe’s groin.
“I’m going to make you my good boy, doesn’t that sound perfect?” Poe muses, reminding himself that he doesn’t need to be stuck in a fantasy thought of Hux, when the real thing is squirming under his hold right in front of him.
But then Armitage pulls away from Poe so quickly he almost smacks his head against the wall behind him. And then just as quickly as he pulled away, his own hands are coming up to pull at the hair at the nape of Poe’s neck and he is as close to laughing as he ever is as he hears the other man’s clipped words through the sneer on his face.“That’s funny, Dameron.”
Armitage’s other hand is now so low on his hips that one more movement will have him playing with the thick, curly hair above Poe’s cock. His entire body is burning hot at the touch and briefly he considers leaning into it.It would be easy for him to give in, to let Hux make him feel good- so kriffing good, but Poe simply shakes his head.
They are now so close to each other he swears he can hear the other man’s heartbeat. However, Poe has now made up his mind, he is not going to let the other continue down this route, and Armitage is held firmly in place as he tries to mouth at Poe’s throat. He tries to trail kisses down his neck- wet and open, but in the end he is not quite able to make contact with the other’s tanned skin due to the position Poe has him pinned in.
“Come on Dameron, I want to be in you…p-” The start of a plea is on the tip of Hux’s tongue, but he swallows it down with his pride.
“No,” Poe shakes his head firmly, because they are in a rebel base interrogation room for kriffing sake and he is in charge now, not Hux. He chuckles darkly to himself when he considers the fact that the times for Hux to be in charge are truly long gone. He lost. They won and kriff is he getting off on that fact alone.
“That’s not your place, and you know it.” He coos, using one hand to brush against Hux’s bright red cheeks. “You’re my good boy, and it’s not very becoming of you to say such things.”
“You’re as much of a switch as me, Dameron” Armitage refuses to quit, narrowing his eyes at Poe in a not very subtle challenge.
“You usually love bottoming.” He adds, and Poe wants to scream at him and slam his head into the wall and make out with him until Hux is a whimpering sobbing mess, begging to have the pilot’s cock buried so far inside him he sees stars.
“What’s the issue now?”
“The issue ,” Poe stresses the word like Armitage is a small child who doesn’t understand the simplest of things, rather than a near genius who builds mass weapons for a living, “Is that I don’t want to. And further, the issue is that you need to learn your place, Armitage,” Hux scowls at the use of his given name, making Poe smile like a predator. He has always hated when Poe calls him that, claiming he deserves to be called the title that he fought and killed to earn, and the hatred of it is fully the reason Poe likes to call him that (especially in the moments he is trying desperately to put the other man in his place).
“And your place is beneath me.” Poe can feel the other man quivering under his skin. Armitage, ever the slut, loves to be put in his place. He loves even more to pretend that he doesn’t- but Poe knows better (knows Armitage better really).
“Now be a good boy, and submit like you want to.”
Hux huffs, skinny chest rising and falling erratically and for a second Poe is unsure if he is as turned on as he is. And maybe he is a bad person, because part of him truly believes that even if he wasn’t as turned on as he was he would probably still keep going. Because, call him morally corrupt, but honestly after you earn a nick-name like star killer, maybe you deserve to not be listened to for once in your life. To be humiliated and degraded and touched against your will, so that for a single second you understand how horrible you are as a human being.
He almost wishes Hux wasn’t turned on, just so he could enact these horrible thoughts. But then he is pressing a thigh between his two, and he feels how hard Armitage is, practically straining against his pants, and it makes his grin grow even farther and his chest fall in relief because he really didn’t want to rape the man he 100% did not have any emotions towards.
Poe takes in a deep breath, trying to center himself. “You can’t pretend you don’t want it, I can feel you sweetheart.”
And that was clearly the wrong thing to say, or perhaps entirely the correct thing to say, because in response Hux is now trying to fight Poe’s grip on him. He is slashing and clawing at him like a feral animal, contained against his will, until he is able to somehow get his head positioned under Poe’s chin. He is then sucking and biting along the other man’s neck savagely, desperately trying to make Poe react in some way.
Poe is beyond irritated at this moment, because it feels so good- but he refuses to let Hux win this game. He is unwilling to submit to the former General of the First Order in a physical space he holds no authority in anymore. Perhaps it is some sort of therapeutic pursuit to refuse to let Hux dominate him here. He needs to feel in control because Hux has stolen control for so many people and families and entire planets before and he wants to be in charge now, if only to force Hux to understand what it feels like to be spinning out.
So he fights the other man off, pushing him back against the wall. He grinds his thigh against his straining cock and smirks at the little moaning sound that escapes the other’s lips. Hux tries to fight, but it is pointless. In a battle of pure physical strength there is no contention over who wins. It is always Poe, every single time.
“You always look so good spread out for me, though,” Armitage is whimpering now, making his final plea sound even more pathetic than before. “I can make you feel good, Dameron.”
“That’s cute, sweetheart. But not tonight,” Poe feels warmth spread over his entire body, intoxicating and overwhelming, at the expression on Hux's face. “Now be my good boy or you are getting nothing out of any of this.” He runs the pads of his calloused fingers over the other’s neck, “I only disabled the cameras for so long and you already wasted most of that time complaining.” He punctuates his point by grinding his thigh up once more.
Hux’s slender hands trip to slap out against any part of the pilot they can reach one final time, and Poe chuckles (warm and deep and condescending) as he uses his grip on the other man’s hip to drag him away from the wall- towards the small bed in the corner of the room that serves both as an interrogation room and a holding cell.
“You’re not winning this fight, so choose- your pride or your one chance to get off before you’re surrounded by rebel scum in the morning and getting interrogated for real.”
Hux glares at him murderously. “I would rather you leave me here to die.” The man snarls and Poe is sure he is full of bullshit, but who is he to deny his boy’s wishes.
He has the other man pinned to the bed moments later. He uses his own bodyweight to restrain the smaller man as he tries to push up on his elbows in some sort of weak attempt to fight the pilot off of him. The struggle goes nowhere, and in fact gives Poe enough time to clasp both of the man’s slender wrists in the large palms of his hands. He yanks them up towards the metal railing that connects the bed to the wall, easily slotting them into the magnetic handcuffs he had pulled from his pocket a moment earlier.
The lock clicks shut deafeningly and Hux is fully whining now, in a very uncharacteristic way, but he is unable to budge his arms even the smallest amount. Poe smirks at the way the man is clearly straining at his pants. He is still fully clothed, but every inch of exposed skin is flushed a satisfying pink color and he is squirming, pulling at his restraints futility- like they will give in if he wills them too.
Armitage Hux is a man used to getting what he wants and there is something undeniably arousing about seeing him so vulnerable. They have been here so many times before, one of them always having the upper hand- the territory of rebel bases and first order ships always giving one of them a natural advantage that bleeds into their sexual relations and violent foreplay. But now that the first order has fallen, now that Hux is questionably here to stay in some capacity or another for far longer than ever before, there is an entire galaxy of sexual possibilities that blossom to the forefront of his mind like a reel of horrid, perverted thoughts he can not control.
“You sure went down awfully easy for somebody who claims he doesn’t want to bottom.” Poe mocks, unzipping his pants as he stares down at the former First Order General.
“You really are pathetic, Armitage.” He leans forward, shoving two of his fingers into the man’s mouth in order to silence the insults and complaints he is sure are on the tip of the other man’s tongue.
“If you bite, I will leave immediately and turn the cameras on..” He smirks, a horrible thought crossing his brain, “I might even stream it live to the entire base.”
Hux sucks at his fingers, his entire face burning bright red and Hux lets out a full body laugh at the sight of the usual commanding man so docile and submissive and flustered. “Of course that gets you off, you whore. You would like that wouldn’t you?? You would like it if they all saw you like this. If they all knew I owned you… that you were my good boy.”
Poe pulls the fingers out of the mouth, a line of drool obscenely connecting from Hux’s lips and his hand pumping at his cock a moment later.
“I bet you would like it even more if they knew what a bitch you were,” He laughs at Hux’s mouth opening and closing- once, twice, a third time, before falling shut once more. The mindless obedience of Hux not even being able to choke words out without Poe’s permission goes straight to his cock and he feels himself twitch under his grasp as he increases the speed.
“There you are, my good boy finally. It’s so hard for you to listen, but you just are dying to be put in your place.” Poe’s mocking is interrupted by his own breathy, moaning as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. The dirty words spewing from his own lips are clearly doing as much to turn himself on as they are turning Hux on.
Hux tries to clamp his eyes shut as Poe continues speaking, “What happened to you cutie, you used to be so tough and now you’re my good little boy. My perfect bitch, nothing more than a hole for me to use whenever I please.”
When Poe realizes that the other man’s eyes are closed, he reaches out and grabs at his jaw so tightly that his eyes shoot open in pain and indignation. “Now, now sweetheart. You need to look at me, it’s a sign of respect after all and I am your superior.”
And then Hux is staring up at him with big, tear filled eyes full of shame and hatred and arousal and he is biting his lip so hard there is a trail of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. Seeing General Armitage Hux of the First Order, his on and off again partner in verbal sparring and fighting for dominance and hot as shit sex, look so helpless and repulsed with his own existence is all that it takes to push him over the edge. And then he is coming thick white ropes of cum all over the other man and Poe is laughing in some sort of orgasmic overwhelming joy as he aims his cock at Hux’s face. Cum splatters against pale skin, marking Hux as his own. His bitch. Property of Poe Dameron. His. His. His.
“What about me?” Hux dares ask the other as he wipes his hands off on the handcuffed man’s clothing before tucking himself back into his pants.
Poe’s grin is so large it almost splits his face. “I seem to remember you begging me to leave you here to die.” His tone is nonchalant, as he turns to leave. “I’m going to turn the camera back on in 10, so if I were you I would be scrambling to dry hump your way out of this one.” He laughs at the shocked expression on the other’s face, before turning to leave.
He won’t actually turn the camera back on until the morning, after he sneaks back in to remove the handcuffs at wipe the other’s face down with a damp cloth- but Hux doesn’t need to know that.
He can hear the sound of the thin sheets on the bed crinkling and throws one final ‘insult’ over his shoulder before the door slides back shut, “My good bitch.”
And they would both be kidding each other if they didn’t acknowledge the fondness of it all.