Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Excuse me? Lieutenant Mitaka is a what?"

Phasma cocked her blonde head at General Hux and gave him a slow, amused smile. "You didn't already know? I thought you knew everything that happened on board this ship."

They were sitting apart from everyone else in one of the lounges set aside for the exclusive use of officers on board the Finalizer — Hux's ship. Gaining this commission, taking charge of the Finalizer and hand-picking his own bridge crew, had been one of the highlights of Hux's life so far — a life that had included precious few highlights, truth be told.

Perhaps that was why he felt himself becoming so outraged at what Phasma had just told him.

Unless his ears had betrayed him just now — and, from Phasma's knowing grin, they had not — she had just informed him that his aide Mitaka also moonlighted as something called a 'Dominant' over other crew members on board.

Hux could feel that he was turning bright pink, which he hated. He could never control his wayward capillaries, much as he wished he could. Perhaps he should start wearing a thick coat of pancake makeup at all times, to ensure his skin could never give him away.

It would also help hide the bruises that Snoke kept leaving on him, so that would be an additional benefit.

Phasma had apparently decided to take pity on him and was answering his question seriously, so Hux struggled to fit her words into his previous understanding of how his ship worked.

"People here want to blow off some steam after hours. There aren't a lot of vices on board — your austerity program sees to that — so people engage in, uh. Harder pursuits. Like power exchange. Pain play. Dominance, submission. You know — kinks. You have heard of kinks, Armitage?"

"Certainly," Hux huffed. He had no idea why people would invite more pain into their lives. Did the First Order not already provide enough of that sort of experience? But, for whatever reason, he knew and accepted that some people had these 'kinks.'

He had just never had cause to think about it before — not in a personal way, at least.

Phasma went on. "Then you may already know that I'm one of the Finalizer's most experienced and sought-after Doms. No, no — don't congratulate me."

"I wasn't about to," Hux muttered, unwilling to let that idea stand for even a moment. He swirled his drink in its glass and took a rebellious sip, focusing on the burn as it slid down his throat.

"Ouch," Phasma said, feigning hurt. "I suppose I'll just have to soothe my ego with the cries and adoration of my squadrons of submissives."

Hux took another sip. He found that his revulsion was warring with his curiosity, and the curiosity was winning.

"What do you — do with them?"

"Oh — most of 'em want me to trash them. You know — flogging, predicaments, humiliation, maybe the bullwhip. They want to leave my quarters reeling and bruised. I don't fracture any bones — at least, not beyond what bacta can heal. They need to be in fighting trim the next morning, after all."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Phasma's grin was knowing. She wanted him to state his question out loud, in words, before she would deign to answer it.

"Why do they want you to —do those things to them?"

Hux had been whipped. It was not an experience he would willingly reenact.

"Well, it's not all pain. You know how pain enhances pleasure? Takes you to an altered state? That's what my subs want — the endorphins."

Hux could feel that his face was stretched into a look of extreme incredulity. 'For the endorphins' seemed like a vanishingly thin justification for anyone to put themselves at the mercy of Captain Phasma.

"This has been going on for some time?" he snapped.

Phasma took a swig of her own drink, looking self-satisfied. "For longer than you've been a General, General."

Hux frowned down into his own drink. Could such an underground network of illicit activities really be occurring on board his very ship, with him none the wiser? And this had apparently been going on for quite some time? The entire thing seemed wildly unlikely.

Then again, Phasma was not known for her flights of fancy. He had seldom known her to say anything but the full, honest truth. She was two meters of solid, muscular soldier — admired or hated by many. Perhaps some of that — erotic potential — could manifest into her becoming the 'Dominant' in these hush-hush, after-hours 'kinks.'

But Mitaka?

Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka was Hux's loyal, right-hand aide. A shorter, younger man with soft brown hair and melting brown eyes, he had a snub little nose, a firm little chin, and a pair of hands that were always busy doing something useful on the deck of the ship. He was attentive without being cloying, foresighted without being irksome, and he always knew just when Hux needed a stim pill, a cup of caf, or an emergency food ration. More than once, he had been known to hand Hux a datapad with a small tube of bacta discreetly tucked inside the case, for him to use after one of his 'special debriefs' with the Supreme Leader, the Force-using entity known only as Snoke.

Mitaka was helpful, polite, assiduous. He was inoffensive. Hux could not imagine him 'trashing' anyone, or leaving them 'reeling and bruised,' in Phasma's evocative phrasing.

"And — Lieutenant Mitaka, too?" Hux finally asked. "He is also — involved in these after-hours activities?"

"Involved?" Phasma cried with a crack of laughter. "Like I said, he's the single most sought-after Dom on this entire ship. The list of people who have subbed for him is longer than your arm. And you have long arms."

"He is sought after — more than you?" Hux asked. His lips felt strange; upon giving himself a quick once-over mentally, Hux realized that parts of him were tingling — no doubt with shock. His fingers, lips, and parts of his cheekbones seemed to be the main casualties.

It was just the thought of Mitaka, standing over someone wielding a bullwhip, sneering down at them and grinding them into the durasteel floor with one of his shiny black boots — the thought was just so strange. No wonder he felt somewhat upended.

The image was analogous to imagining a cute, fluffy Porg wielding a bloody machete.

"Way more than me," Phasma assured him. "Not a lot of 'troopers can handle what I dish out. And I let them know that, too — soft, feckless weaklings that they are." Here, her voice turned almost affectionate, as though she relished the evidence that her 'submissives' needed her chastising, firm guidance.

"But there's something in it for them," she continued. "If they can take what I dish out without too much crying, then sometimes I let them hump my leg, or my helmet. Why, just the other day —"

"I do not wish to know the more personal details," Hux said, raising one hand. He was pleased to note that it was not trembling in the slightest, despite the shock of imagining various naked stormtroopers humping Phasma's armor-clad leg, or — more shockingly — her brightly polished chromium helmet.

He suddenly wondered if Mitaka let his so-called 'subs' hump his leg. The thought was disturbing.

"Well, anyway, I'm good, but Mitaka is better. I make 'em cry, but Mitaka makes them weep. Real tears, too," Phasma said. Her voice held the admiration of an artist for an even greater artist — for a master at his craft.

Hux cleared his throat. "And these activities do not pose any physical or mental harm to my crew? Otherwise, no doubt you would have informed me far earlier."

"Like I said — I may ding them up a little, but it's nothing bacta won't fix."

Hux paused.

"I cannot evaluate whether these activities should fall under the austerity program," he began.

"Armitage! I'm telling you — it's fine!" Phasma objected hotly.

Hux raised his hand again. "I cannot evaluate them — if I have never observed them myself."

Phasma's face changed from outrage to a type of sly cockiness that Hux knew well. "As it should be, General Hux. I can send you some of my own personal footage."

Hux gave a terse nod. He tossed off his drink and stood.

"Send the file locations to my datapad," he instructed his Captain. "I will review them in my quarters."

"Yes, sir," Phasma said with another one of her slow smiles. It reminded Hux of nothing so much as a shark-boar.

He still could not reconcile Dopheld Mitaka's entire existence with this kind of clandestine activity.

Still, Hux prided himself on knowing everything of import that occurred on board his ship. Now that Phasma had 'clued him in,' as it were, he must obviously acquaint himself with what his crew members were up to after hours, so that he could decide whether to continue to allow it.

The drink he'd just downed must have been responsible for the strange, fizzy feeling in his blood that he felt all the way back to his quarters.

The 'scenes' that Phasma had sent to his datapad were distressing. Hux was well versed in methods of giving and receiving pain. Such activities were not new to him.

What was new: How everyone involved was clearly eroticizing the exchange. Phasma reveled in her role as the large, strong, mean 'Dom,' humiliating and striking her 'submissives,' causing them pain, making them wail in agony. Clearly, she loved her work.

Just as clearly, the 'submissives' that Hux watched in the footage were enjoying themselves. Phasma gave them every opportunity to stop the 'scenes' and leave, but they insisted on staying. Some of them groveled at her feet quite heart-rendingly.

Hux fast-forwarded through scenes of subs tied up and taking pain; subs crying and begging her for mercy; subs wailing as they were finally allowed to come, only to have Phasma mock them for it and turn them out into the hall, dazed and stumbling and lightly scuffed up.

She had spoken the truth. She never hurt them — well, there was that one man, but he had moved his hand the wrong way at the wrong time; that had clearly been an accident. Hux pulled up his medical records and verified that the fracture had healed cleanly.

He frowned at his screen. It was deep into Gamma Shift, and he should be asleep, but instead, he had spent several hours reviewing these odd Dominance and submission activities.

When it came right down to it, he supposed it wasn't doing any harm. If nothing else, having stormtroopers who were more loyal to Captain Phasma than they had been before could only be a benefit to First Order troop cohesion.

He was surprised to see that some non-stormtroopers had also availed themselves of her services — Chief Petty Officer Unamo, Petty Officer Thanisson, and even Colonel Kaplan. Presumably there were more. Perhaps many more.

Hux closed his eyes and sighed. All of this staring at men and women groveling in front of Phasma had given him a headache.

He did not want to think about what the equivalent scenes with Lieutenant Mitaka were like. And he especially did not want to think about how many more 'subs' Mitaka had 'dominated.' None of that was his concern.

Hux closed his datapad and prepared to sleep. Now that he understood the matter more thoroughly, he would put it out of his mind. He was prepared to excuse unconventional activities performed by consenting First Order members, as long as they were after hours, did not bring about serious injury or loss of supplies, and did not undermine morale.

From what he could tell, none of the above disadvantages applied. Therefore, he must be prepared to countenance these 'scenes,' now that he knew they were occurring. Still, although he would not forbid them, he devoutly hoped that Phasma would not mention them again.

Hux got into bed and attempted to make himself comfortable. But perhaps because he was so tired, he found it impossible to sleep.

What does Mitaka do to his subs, I wonder?

He couldn't stop thinking about it. Mitaka and Phasma were very different people. Could Mitaka really do all those same things — those painful-looking, humiliating things?

Did people want him to? Did he enjoy it?

Perhaps, behind that soft, sweet exterior, Mitaka was a depraved, sadistic freak — someone who enjoyed delivering pain and torment. Someone who got off on it.

The thought was far more disturbing than it should be.

But thinking about it wouldn't do any good. He had just decided that these 'activities' were not harmful; so therefore, whether it was Captain Phasma who performed them, or someone else, was no concern to him.

When he did manage to drift off to sleep, it was with strange, confusing visions of Dopheld Mitaka wearing shiny chromium armor, pointing to the floor and telling him to kneel.

The next day on the bridge was awkward. Hux could not stop thinking about Lieutenant Mitaka — his Lieutenant Mitaka — standing over faceless stormtroopers, wielding weapons at them and menacing them in his soft, sweet voice. The visions were so incongruous as to be uncanny.

What did he do to his 'subs'? Did he make them beg? Crawl? Grovel?

Phasma had said he did not make them cry — he made them weep. What was the distinction? How did the inoffensive-seeming Lieutenant achieve this feat?

Hux wanted to know, but simultaneously he did not want to know. He wanted to put the whole realm of knowledge out of his mind permanently and focus on the work. There was certainly enough of that to go around.

He's quite good at his job, Hux thought, observing the decisive yet polite way Mitaka gave direction to the staff under his supervision. He would be conscientious about whatever he did, surely.

He would not have fractured that man's hand.

Hux passed the entirety of Alpha Shift trying so hard not to think about it that it was all he could think about.

Frustrated with himself, Hux strode off to his quarters after his shift, determined to distract himself. A brisk session of exercise in the officers' gymnasium did not help. Nor did several hours spent deep in the First Order's ledgers — a pastime that he always found soothing.

Finally, Hux gave in to temptation. He picked up his datapad and sent a communiqué to Lieutenant Mitaka, summoning him to a private meeting the following day, after their shift on the bridge was complete.

He would talk this through in person. He would ask any questions he felt needed to be asked, as the commanding officer of the Finalizer, to ensure his crew's health and safety.

And then, one way or the other, he would be able to put the entire circumstance out of his mind.

The following day passed in a haze for Hux. He knew he was still performing his role as General with his customary efficiency, but a large part of his mental processing power was currently dedicated to anticipating every twist and turn of the upcoming conversation about Mitaka's after-hours 'scenes.'

But what could he learn from a simple conversation? Of course anyone, including Mitaka, would assure their commanding officer that everything was fine. How could Hux determine for certain that it was?

He should ask for footage similar to the files Phasma had sent. Hux had absolutely no interest in participating in one of those painful scenes he'd seen Phasma perform. He had experienced enough pain and torment for one lifetime by the time he was ten; he had no need to create opportunities for more.

But, if that was what these 'scenes' entailed, he ventured to guess that he would be superlative at bearing one.

He had to admit that he was intensely curious about this other side of his timid-seeming Lieutenant. He had only seen Mitaka snap at someone once, and it was when an instrument tech on the bridge had made a completely elementary mistake that had been about to draw Hux's own attention and anger. Mitaka had turned to the offending tech and, never raising his voice, had eviscerated him so thoroughly that he had fled the bridge without a word, his shoulders shaking.

So he does have an edge, Hux thought, dragging his eyes away from Mitaka's neat, orderly shoulders. His eyes immediately snagged on Mitaka's hat, and how it sat over his soft-looking brown hair.

Does he keep the hat on?

It was just as difficult to imagine that he kept it on as to imagine that he took it off. Quite frankly, Hux could not imagine it either way.

He scoffed at himself; he was being ridiculous. Soon, Alpha Shift would be over and he could have a simple conversation and lay these pointless thoughts to rest permanently.

"Sir," Mitaka said, entering his office and saluting.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Hux regarded him from behind his desk. He had wondered, dozens of times, how to open this rather odd conversation. Finally he had decided to just come right out with it.

He cleared his throat. "It has come to my attention that you are one of the most sought-after Dominants on board this ship."

Mitaka's eyes went wide.

"I have looked into the practices that I understand you are... performing... with your crewmates," Hux continued. "I must admit, I have concerns."

Mitaka was watching him closely. "What kinds of concerns, sir?"

"Well..." Hux sat back, trying not to appear petulant, and waved one hand. "The beatings, the floggings — the tears. People really want to engage in these activities? For fun?"

"Many people find release that way, yes. Taking control over the pain in a safe, controlled environment can help people build up the metal fortitude to deal with the pain of real life."

"Hmmm." Hux had not previously considered that, and to be honest, it seemed unlikely to be true. But this was Mitaka, who would not lie to him.

He stood up and came out from behind his desk, stopping a few feet from the Lieutenant.

"Phasma injured several stormtroopers in situations such as these," he pointed out. "She fractured one man's hand."

"Yes, sir — I know of that incident. It may not convince you, sir, but I have never injured anyone. I regard the safety of my subs, in-scene, as my highest priority."

"But you derive pleasure from these 'scenes' yourself?" Hux asked, frowning. "You are hardly unbiased."

Mitaka drew himself up to his full height, giving an impression something like three outraged Porgs stacked atop one another and stuffed into a First Order uniform.

"Sir, would you risk the lives of all on board this ship for a momentary flash of pleasure? No. You are far too dedicated, too professional for that. I have that same fervor, the same commitment to the sanctity of my role as a Dominant partner. My subs trust me. The work I do creates safe environments for them to foster their own personal growth. I take that extremely seriously."

Hux stared at him. From the certainty of his words, he certainly seemed to be telling the truth. But the words seemed strange. Trust? Safe? Growth?

None of that was similar to what Phasma had been doing in those videos.

Should he ask for footage so he could compare? Yes, that would be for the best.

But Mitaka seized the initiative, speaking first, before he could gather up a sentence and string it together.

"If you would like, sir... you could ensure that I'm telling the truth." He swallowed. "By experiencing a scene yourself."

Hux stopped, arrested by the thought. True, he had already decided that what Phasma had to offer would be dreadful. But would it be similarly horrid from the hand of his efficient, thoughtful Lieutenant?

Then he could see Mitaka's other side first-hand. If Hux had any inclination to engage in these activities — which honestly, he was almost certain he did not, but life had a strange way of surprising him — then there was probably no better person to deliver the experiences than someone he already knew.

Perhaps it would be worth doing, so he could evaluate whether Mitaka was posing a hazard to the 'subs' he 'dominated' on a regular basis — a list of subs longer than Hux's arm, he remembered Phasma saying.

The thought made him feel somewhat sour.

"That is — only if you're interested, of course, sir. I do not mean to imply any offense."

Mitaka was looking somewhat miserable. A pink flush had risen to his face, and Hux could tell he was distressed. He was probably agonizing about overstepping with a superior officer.

Well, Hux would set that to rest. He still did not particularly want to engage in one of these painful 'scenes,' but he could bear it once, learn some valuable information, and then decide to either put a stop to these activities on board the Finalizer, or allow them with a clear conscience.

Hux gave a brisk nod. "Fine."

Mitaka gaped up at him. "Fine?" he said, almost in a squeak.

"Yes. Fine. I accept, or — concur, or whatever is commonly done."

Mitaka blinked rapidly. "You won't regret it, sir."

Unfortunately, Hux already did. But now that he had given his assent, he could hardly take it back the next moment.

He returned to the chair behind his desk and settled down into it. "You will send me the details. Shall we say — in two days' time?"

Mitaka cleared his throat. "Sir, you will need to fill out my standard pre-scene questionnaire."

"A quesionnaire?" Hux asked in surprise.

"Indeed, sir. I have a standard form."

"Of course you do."

"It can prove very helpful in designing a scene for each individual sub."

"Hmm." Hux raised his eyebrows in surprise. Phasma hadn't mentioned anything about designing different scenes, and he had a difficult time imagining that she sent out pre-scene surveys, or would let her actions be guided by a document at all. But clearly, Mitaka ran his side of things differently.

"Very well," he finally judged. "Send it over and I will go through the standard process, whatever that may be."

"Yes, sir," Mitaka said.

"Dismissed."

"Sir," Mitaka said again, snapping into a salute and withdrawing.

Hux let himself slump back into his chair. His back was already tingling from the imaginary lash marks that he assumed Mitaka would shortly be delivering, and he shuddered. Brendol's ghost was never too far away from his shoulder, and willingly engaging in physical punishment seemed to beckon it several steps closer, when all Hux wanted to do was banish it forever.

How Brendol would have jeered and mocked at him for choosing to submit at all. Brendol was of the opinion that a Hux belonged on one side of the whip only — the handle side. Of course, that had never stopped him from putting young Armitage firmly on the other side of it, beneath him.

If it's Mitaka, it won't be so bad, Hux assured himself, pouring a cup of tarine tea and turning it in his hands. He stared out of his viewport at the stars.

He quite honestly doubted that his shorter, smaller Lieutenant could deliver significant amounts of pain. Certainly, his childhood training at Brendol's hand should have toughened him up enough to bear whatever Mitaka could dish out.

Hux took a sip of tea, fortifying himself mentally for what lay ahead.

In any case, I'll just bear it once, so I know what it's like. Then I'll be able to put it out of my mind and carry on as usual.

Hux frowned at the spreadsheet that was blinking up at him from his datapad. He needed to fill this out for Mitaka's standard intake process, but he found himself poised between hesitation and the urge to delete it and inform Mitaka that he had changed his mind.

The document was far more elaborate than he had surmised. It included a long list of different actions that he was meant to either accept or refuse.

There was an umbrella category titled 'Impact Play' that included items such as flogging, caning, whipping, paddling, spanking (gloved), and spanking (bare-handed), but was by no means limited to only those.

Hux had no interest in bearing pain, but if that was what he needed to do in order to participate like everyone else, then he supposed he could do it. He was rather good at it, and after all, it would be a pity to waste his talents.

He marked all of the lines under 'Impact Play' with the sigil that meant "Accept."

There was another umbrella category called 'Insertables' that had Hux scrolling past it quickly, but not quickly enough. As he flicked his way down the screen, his eyes snagged on words such as 'dilators,' 'ginger,' and 'anal plugs (extended wear).'

That last one gave him pause. Were his bridge staff sometimes completing their shifts while holding a plug internally? During the entirety of Alpha Shift?

The thought made him wonder who around him had done that, and how often. Did Mitaka have people wearing plugs for him on a long-term basis? The thought made him frown. The practice could negatively affect his crew's performance.

How many subs had Mitaka done this with? Did he have any current partners exchanging hidden glances with him, perhaps even on the bridge, while he was attending to his duties and making sure Hux had whatever he needed as General?

He did not like that thought at all. Somewhat petulantly, he marked all of the lines with "Accept," as well. He refused to entertain the thought that someone else on board was doing these things with Mitaka and that he would cry off. If someone else was doing it, then he would agree as well.

Next was a section for 'Bondage." Hux highly doubted that Mitaka would dare to truss him up like an animal for slaughter on some Core world. The Lieutenant almost never touched him. A few times, their fingers might have brushed as one of them handed something to the other. But Mitaka did not seem at all likely to put his hands on Hux personally. No doubt he would stay back, behind the end of the whip. And if he did try to tie Hux up, Hux could simply order him to let him go. They both knew he was the General and would remain firmly in charge, so there was no reason not to allow it.

Hux marked all that section 'Accept' and moved on.

The next umbrella category was titled 'Power Exchange.' The items in that section had to do with reversing the natural flow of command; stipulating what terms the 'sub' should use for the 'Dom,' how the 'sub' would obey orders, and so on.

It went against First Order protocols to reverse the chain of command this way. Hux paused, weighing how to mark these lines.

He reflected that Phasma was clearly mixing her domination with the First Order chain of command, seemingly without ill effect. As long as the superior officer did not allow the 'scenes' to influence their real-life actions towards the subordinate, it would not negatively affect the subordinate's career.

Hux resolved that would be scrupulously professional, even after engaging in this type of activity. He would not let anything that occurred behind closed doors influence his judgment of Mitaka as an officer, or intrude on Mitaka's chances for advancement.

Truth be told, he had already recommended Mitaka for promotion several times, but the Lieutenant kept on turning down the opportunities, claiming he would prefer to stay on the bridge of the Finalizer. Hux knew he was lucky to continue enjoying Mitaka's competence at his elbow every day, but it was only a matter of time until he finally accepted a promotion and moved to his own command.

After Mitaka was gone, Hux would no longer have the chance to experience these mysteries.

He marked all the lines under 'Power Exchange" as "Accept." If Hux wanted to participate, he could do far worse than asking the Lieutenant. Asking Phasma would be far, far worse.

Another category for 'Mental Play' was confusing at first, but upon examination, held items such as humiliation and types of role-playing.

Again, Hux had no idea why anyone in the First Order would voluntarily sign up for yet more humiliation; did real life not offer them enough of that particular torment? Perhaps, if Mitaka's other subs were lacking in this area, they should merely look around themselves as they went about their job; someone nearby would no doubt step up to humiliate them if they merely waited five minutes.

At least, from experience, Hux assumed that was the case for everyone else. It had certainly been the case for him, before he had managed to claw his way to a command position and force the whispers about him from out in the open to behind his back.

He could not mark all the other sections with "Accept" and leave out only this one; it might give something away — he was not sure what. But in any case, the thought of Mitaka trying to humiliate him was actually rather amusing. What on earth would Mitaka say?

They had years of history of Hux being the superior officer and Mitaka the Lieutenant. Year during which Mitaka had trotted along behind him, fetched him his things, served him his tea. What on earth could Mitaka possibly say that would perturb him? Cast aspersions on his choice of gloves, or imply that Hux had not run the latest battle simulation with optimum efficiency?

Hux knew that Mitaka regarded him highly. Anything he said would be a sham, and they both knew it. He had nothing to fear there.

He marked all of these lines with "Accept," as well.

A sixth section had the header 'Sexual Activities.'

Well. He would go ahead and mark all of those "Accept," just so that Mitaka knew his General was no coward.

Next there was a freeform field: "Briefly explain what you are seeking in your session."

Hux frowned. The field was required, so he could not simply skip it.

Finally, he entered "I am curious and seeking to learn." That seemed fairly safe.

He sent off the form to Mitaka's inbox without checking it over. Going through it once had been bad enough; he did not need to go through it a second time, second-guessing all of his decisions.

Now his part was done, and he merely had to wait two days, then grit his teeth through whatever experiences Mitaka chose to inflict on him.

He knew himself well enough to realize that he was nervous. Willingly putting himself into a subordinate position was difficult, after the childhood he'd been forced to endure.

But, Hux reassured himself, if there was one person on board the Finalizer he could reasonably trust not to harm him, that person was Dopheld Mitaka.

Now all he had to do was get through this. It might not go easily, but Hux was mentally strong. He would endure; he was sure he had endured far worse in the past.

Chapter Text

Mitaka had been worrying about the upcoming scene with his General ever since he'd been summoned to Hux's office and surprised with the news that he had found out about Mitaka's extracurricular hobby.

Mitaka had known it was only a matter of time until his superior officer found out. Eventually, Hux was going to discover what Mitaka and so many others in the First Order had been doing in their free time, after hours. Very little escaped his notice on board his own ship for any length of time, and nothing escaped his notice permanently. It was a wonder Mitaka had gone this long without being questioned.

What surprised Mitaka to no end was that Hux had agreed to experience a sample scene. He never would have predicted that possibility in a million years.

Thinking back, Mitaka had no idea what had come over him to make the offer. Perhaps some perverse part of him wanted to keep pushing until Hux finally snapped and demoted him, or sent him away.

Then maybe he could start getting over his hopeless, impossible crush.

And what had completely upended him were the results that Hux had sent through for Mitaka's standard pre-scene questionnaire. Hux's answers had all been yes — every single answer. Even harder kinks like trampling, choking, piss play, humiliation — every single line had been Accept, Accept, Accept.

It made Mitaka wonder if he'd actually read the entire questionnaire, or if he'd merely answered 'Accept' to everything out of some sort of misplaced, stubborn pride.

He had barely slept the night before and had gone through his duties on the bridge that day in a haze of tormented anticipation. Whatever happened, he feared that his connection with the General would never be the same.

What worried him the most was that he was flying blind. In the absence of any guidance about what Hux might actually like or enjoy, Mitaka had very little idea of what to do with him.

His instincts had always led him correctly in the past. He would simply have to gather as much information as possible and do his best in the moment.

That was not a very reassuring thought. Not when the consequence for failure might be dismissal from the polished bridge of the Finalizer. He could be sent to some other ship where he would never again have his vision lit up with Hux's crown of flame-red hair, or with his quick, decisive nods, or his long fingers, or the way his eyes would sometimes soften when he said 'Very good, Lieutenant.'

Now, finally, it was three minutes to the appointed time. Everything was in place in Mitaka's bedroom. He'd selected a standard kit for a basic scene — some rope, some floggers and paddles, an insertion toy or two, some lube. He almost certainly wouldn't use the insertion toys, unless Hux asked him to.

He blushed hard, imagining that impossibility, then wrenched his mind away.

He didn't really know what General Hux would want. The odds were that Hux would remain guarded and wary, and wouldn't allow anything too forward. Most likely, the General would take a simple flogging above the waist, inform Mitaka that his efforts had been sadly substandard, and forbid him from topping anyone else during the remainder of his time on the Finalizer.

Mitaka straightened his shoulders. He would do his very best to make sure that didn't happen. He couldn't lose this activity. If he didn't have the release that came with bringing others under his care to their own emotional release, his own quality of life would suffer. And all of the submissives he played with would suffer, too.

If the General decided to forbid these activities, Mitaka might even consider accepting one of the promotions that had been offered to him. So far he had refused them all, preferring to stay at General Hux's side.

He needed to make sure that Hux enjoyed the session he was about to experience — no matter what it took.

If Mitaka was blushing at the thought of different inventive ways to help Hux enjoy things, well, there was no need to judge himself too harshly. He'd been fantasizing about the General for years. Almost no matter what happened, tonight would be a watershed moment in his life. There would be the time before he had topped Hux, and the time after he had topped Hux. Mitaka knew himself well enough to know that after this experience, he would never be the same again.

The chime to his quarters sounded, and Mitaka rushed to the door.

"Sir, please come in," Mitaka said, standing to the side and closing the door behind him.

Hux had never been to his quarters before. He glanced around, taking in the austere, neatly organized living room with a lack of condemnation that, from him, was practically approval.

"Well, Mitaka," Hux said, turning with a slight lift to his eyebrows. "Here I am, as we arranged."

"Yes, sir," Mitaka said, trying hard not to let how excited he was show on his face. To have Hux here, in his quarters, looking just as perfect as he always did — to have him mere minutes away from entering the bedroom — it was overwhelming.

Mitaka had worshiped the durasteel he walked on almost from the first moment they'd met. He vowed to himself that he would do his absolute best to give Hux the best experience of his life so far.

Hux continued, "From here on, Lieutenant, you have my permission to direct me in anything to do with this 'scene,' but in no other regards."

"Of course, sir. Thank you."

Hux paused, then took off his hat and held it in front of him, in both hands. "Very well."

"Very well," Mitaka echoed. Stars. He needed to start slipping into his Dom headspace — but standing here with Hux was making him feel like a simple Lieutenant.

Mitaka was actually a fairly experienced Dom. Not as experienced as Captain Phasma, of course — she churned through stormtroopers like a light saber through butter — but he did all right for himself. He never lacked for people to bring to their ecstatic release.

But topping the General would be his greatest challenge so far. He would need to draw on all his experience to get through the evening; he could already tell that.

"Before we begin, we need to discuss your questionnaire," Mitaka said, taking courage. "Won't you please take a seat?"

The General gave him an unreadable glance, then walked to one of the room's two comfortable chairs and arranged himself. His long, long legs stretched out in front of him, and Mitaka had the sudden urge to climb up them like a rope obstacle in one of the Order's training courses.

"What do we need to discuss about my questionnaire?" Hux asked in a mild tone of voice.

"Well, sir — you answered 'Accept' to every single item," Mitaka said.

"I did." Hux seemed very sure of himself.

Mitaka frowned. "Some of those items were — fairly extreme."

Hux raised his molten-gold eyebrows. "Are you implying that they are too extreme for me to take?"

"I'm not inquiring to find out what you're capable of withstanding, sir. The form is so that we can align on what you would enjoy."

Hux looked blank. "What I would enjoy," he said, as though tasting the words.

"Yes, sir. The questionnaire is meant to give me some insight into how to design the scene."

"Captain Phasma's 'scenes' are much the same from one to the next," Hux pointed out.

"That is true. But mine are custom to the person," Mitaka said. "In fact, sir — I pride myself on it. My craft is very important to me."

A vertical line appeared between Hux's brows as he stared across the room. "I examined every line of the form, and filled it in to my satisfaction. Are you questioning my ability to complete paperwork?"

They both knew Hux's ability to complete paperwork was unparalleled.

Mitaka cleared his throat.

"I do have to ask what items from the form stood out to you as something you might want to experience, and what items would be completely unacceptable. After we cross through that doorway into the room beyond, I will be in charge; are you prepared for that?"

Hux was nodding. "Yes — I believe that 'power exchange' is part of these matters."

"It can be, but it doesn't have to be," Mitaka said. "And the other items on the list — the impact play, the insertables, the mental play —"

"Mitaka, I marked everything as 'Accept' once. I do not wish to go through the list verbally and accept them all a second time. If you require more guidance, merely deliver a standard 'scene' to me — one you may have done before for someone else."

Mitaka frowned. "Sir, that's typically not how these matters are done. In my experience —"

"You have delivered these types of experiences before?"

"Well, yes, sir. Of course, many times. I merely wish to ensure your comfort and enjoyment."

"Rest assured that I'm well able to care for myself in these situations," Hux said.

Mitaka paused. Hux seemed to be clear on everything. Much as he worried, perhaps he was being paranoid; insisting too hard on having everything his own way. Perhaps he needed to start the scene soon.

In any case, Hux seemed to be getting annoyed at the delay.

"Then, sir, next you need to pick a safeword," Mitaka said,

"A what?"

"A safeword — a word to use instead of 'No,' should you truly wish me to stop. To be used in case of emergency."

"What is amiss with using the word 'no'?"

"Well, you may be, ah, using the word 'no' without meaning it. Sir."

Hux frowned. "I see," he said in an extremely dubious tone of voice.

Mitaka blushed again — or maybe he was still blushing from before. Imagining reducing the stalwart General Hux to a begging, writhing mess on his bed was doing things to him.

"A word that is easy to remember, hard to mistake for something else, and one you would not ordinarily use, would serve the purpose best," Mitaka soldiered on. "You would use it in case you urgently need me to stop the scene right away."

Hux pressed his lips together and gave a slight nod. "A type of emergency override."

"Yes, precisely," Mitaka said, pleased. All First Order ships had emergency overrides built into important systems.

"Then — Arkanis."

"Arkanis?" Mitaka repeated, fixing the word in his mind.

"Yes, that should do. And with that settled, are we quite ready to begin? After this I have some more documents to attend to in my own quarters."

"Yes, sir. If you'll follow me," Mitaka said. Privately, he resolved that he would do his level best to ensure the General would not be in any state to review those documents later. He'd be good only for falling into bed, exhausted, loopy, and — for once — happy.

At least, if Mitaka had anything to say about it, anyway, that's what would happen.

Mitaka led the way into the bedroom, where he had the lights set at half brightness. His collection of implements lay along one long shelf, and the bed was stripped down to the sheets. Two blankets lay folded along another shelf, next to a carafe of water and some small cubes of sugar-drenched carbohydrate loaf that Mitaka had acquired from trading with Thanisson. They were not part of the standard First Order ration kits.

Mitaka turned to face Hux and drew himself up to his full height. Outside this room, he was the Lieutenant, and Hux the General. But inside, the roles were reversed.

Mitaka raised his eyebrows. "Set your hat on that empty shelf," he suggested with a wave to the side.

Hux gave him a look and set his hat on the shelf, as ordered.

Something inside Mitaka thrilled. He had never given Hux a command before. The closest situations had been times when he had urged — even begged — Hux to eat something, or to get more rest. But Hux usually disregarded his pleas and did what he liked. This was the first time Mitaka had the power.

Never mind that Hux was only obeying him out of curiosity. Never mind that it would never be repeated. Mitaka resolved to enjoy it to the fullest right now.

"Good. Now, strip down to your underthings," Mitaka continued, proceeding to the bed and sitting down.

He had never been in a seated position while Hux was standing — not like this, purposefully. And he'd certainly never watched Hux's long, pale fingers start to undo his tunic before, then strip it off and fold it neatly and place it on the same shelf, next to his hat.

He was wearing a black undershirt. Mitaka decided to allow him to leave it on. He didn't want to push too hard and get Hux to safeword out and leave.

Next were Hux's boots, which he lined up near the door. Then his socks, which he layered over each other in a neat horizontal row. Then his trousers, revealing tight-fitting black boxers underneath.

Mitaka held his breath slightly as acres of pale leg came into view. It was like rounding the curve of a planet and being blinded by the system's sun. It was like missing the top handhold on a rock climbing course and falling, only to be jerked to a stop by the rope harness around your waist.

Hux was gorgeous — all long, pale limbs without even a hint of freckle; lithe muscles strung over a graceful lattice of bone; not even the hint of softness at the stomach that would betray he ate more than the bare minimum of calories.

How Mitaka wanted to put some more meat on those bones. If only Hux would listen to him and ingest his proper share of rations!

Maybe I can order him to eat something, while he's here, Mitaka thought. Now that would be a scene!

Hux had finished disrobing and was standing in parade rest in front of Mitaka. He raised his eyebrows, looking amused and superior at the same time.

Mitaka stood up. "Very good. First, we will discuss respect. While you are in this room, you will address me as 'sir.' Is that clear?"

Hux's lips quirked. "Yes, sir," he said easily enough.

Mitaka felt that he didn't really mean it, somehow. Still, he decided to reward the outer show of compliance.

"Very good. And you remember the safeword you chose earlier?"

"I do — sir."

Was Mitaka imagining it, or was Hux secretly smirking at him?

He stiffened his spine. It was strange to snap into the Dominant role with the object of his hopeless crush, who was also his superior officer. Nevertheless, that is what they had both signed up to do, so it behooved Mitaka to do his level best.

"Very well. Lie on the bed, stomach down. Position yourself here, so your legs are hanging off the edge."

Hux gave him another unreadable look, then carefully draped himself over the edge of the bed, as directed.

Mitaka felt almost dizzy, looking down at the long expanse of Hux laid out before him like dishes on a buffet table at an extravagant Core world banquet. There was so much bounty right in front of him that he hardly knew where to start.

Mitaka stepped right up behind him and placed one hand on Hux's lower back, to steady him, warn him that more touching was about to happen, and to give himself a method of sensing Hux's comfort levels.

"First, we'll experiment with some impact play, and gauge your comfort levels," Mitaka announced.

Then, without pausing, he brought his other hand down on Hux's boxer-clad ass in a medium-intensity spank.

Hux braced his core muscles — Mitaka could feel it — but he did not flinch, per se.

So, that wasn't too hard, Mitaka thought. Good to know.

He spanked again, somewhat harder, trying to sense whether this was having any effect at all, and if so, what that might be. But after a few minutes of raining down blow after blow with his bare hands, Hux was still hardly reacting at all.

"I'm going to move to an implement now," Mitaka said, stepping to his array of tools and selecting a basic paddle. "And I'm going to pull down your undergarments. Remember that you can always safeword if this becomes too much."

From his vantage point, Mitaka could barely catch the side of Hux's face. It looked tense and somewhat annoyed.

Sometimes, Mitaka's subs needed to be pushed through layer after layer of pain under they reached the cathartic release they were seeking. Perhaps the General was one of those.

Mitaka remembered one of his subs of a few months back who had needed treatment of that nature. Mitaka had made his own arm sore with how much he had needed to paddle, flog, and even whip that poor submissive, until she had finally taken enough pain that she could cry. Her tears hadn't really been about Mitaka's treatment — they'd been about everything she had experienced in the First Order. Mitaka knew that. Afterwards, she had thanked him with tears in her eyes, pressing his hand between hers, and all of Mitaka's aches and pains had disappeared in his flood of happiness at being of service to her.

Maybe he could do the same thing here.

He paddled the General's pale backside, with its perfect peachy profile, just enough for two large handfuls, until it turned a vivid shade of pink. But while Hux was definitely breathing harder, Mitaka didn't think he was particularly enjoying himself. He didn't seem to have any of the signs of pleasure, happiness, or imminent emotional release that Mitaka typically saw in submissives who sought pain. He wasn't making little sounds of enjoyment, or grinding on the bed, or even sweating and twitching and closing his eyes.

He was not slipping into subspace.

Perhaps impact play was not the right avenue here. Perhaps Hux required pain that was delivered in a more personal manner.

If Mitaka could do that while he fulfilled one of his own longstanding fantasies, well, that was all to the good.

He set the paddle aside and used both hands to reach down and grab a small section of pinkened flesh on each buttock, then pinched and twisted, enjoying the supple feel of his skin. To think that his hands were actually touching Hux's bare ass! It was the stuff of overheated fantasies. No — it was more than he'd even let himself fantasize about before.

Then he dropped to his knees, removed one hand, and bit one of the spots medium-hard.

Hux hissed in pain. Mitaka gave his teeth a bit more leeway to clamp down and worry at the patch of flesh, then drew back his face and layered some kisses over the rapidly darkening bruise he had just made.

To think I'm actually kissing Hux's ass, Mitaka thought in an erotic haze. Oh, certainly he had been accused of this before — but in a metaphorical sense. He was beyond thrilled to finally make it a reality.

He laid another few kisses on, then followed them with another savage pinch. Sometimes, mixing pleasure in with the pain was the thing that got his subs farther towards their bliss.

Hux was breathing faster now, but wasn't making any obvious sounds. Mitaka stood up and examined the half of his face that he could see.

"Still all right?" he asked. "Do you remember your safeword?"

"Yes, sir," Hux said in a tight voice. His eyes were screwed closed, and his face seemed tense and unhappy.

Mitaka bit his lip in unease. Hux really didn't seem to be enjoying this, but he had marked down everything on the questionnaire as a yes, and then verbally told Mitaka to just give him a standard experience. And in Mitaka's past, most subs wanted more pain than this.

But what if he was wrong? What if Hux didn't know what he needed; what if he actually needed something else entirely?

Hux had also marked 'Accept' to every item under 'Power Exchange,' Mitaka remembered — including 'Humiliation.' Perhaps that was what he craved. He was always so superior, so aloof — perhaps he secretly wanted to be degraded.

Many people in the First Order who had demanding jobs during Alpha shift wanted nothing more than to be relieved of all those responsibilities during Beta or Gamma. Many people who were superior, and knew it, wanted to be humiliated verbally or physically — told they were weak, lesser, pathetic, worthless.

Could the General have that hidden desire? Could it be worth a try to take on more of a cruel Dom persona?

Mitaka knew that some subs could only trust themselves to a cruel-seeming Master. He did not enjoy letting that side of his personality out to play, but sometimes it was the best way to get the job done — to get through his sub's thick mental armor to the man underneath.

It was worth a try, anyway.

"Now I want you to flip over," Mitaka told Hux with another sharp swat to that same bruise on his ass. "Don't keep me waiting."

Hux pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then slowly turned over, starting to adjust his underthings to pull them back up.

"Hands off," Mitaka snapped, selecting a small, whippy crop from his shelf of toys. "I didn't say you could put those back on."

Hux paused, then finished turning over. Between the bottom hem of his black undershirt and the top edge of his black boxers, currently around mid-thigh level, his whole upper hip and groin and lower stomach region was bare to Mitaka's gaze.

Mitaka could not help staring. The neatly trimmed ginger hair made him want to do nothing more than bury his face there and never come up for air again. The pale cock was flaccid, lying supine towards the left thigh; there was the barest glimpse of the tender balls that lay behind.

Hux was lying propped up on his elbows. His cheeks held a hectic flush, and his eyes were on Mitaka's hand — the hand with the crop.

"Do you know what this is?" Mitaka asked pleasantly, taking a step forward. He did not brandish the crop, because he did not need to. Merely holding it while standing over a half-naked submissive was threat enough.

Hux flinched, so subtly that if Mitaka hadn't been watching him like a hawk-bat, he would have missed it.

"Yes, sir," Hux said in a low, level voice.

"What is it?" Mitaka asked, using the tip of it to trail up Hux's cock to circle around part of the base, then trail back down. He used it to poke at the small patch of Hux's balls that he could see.

He wondered if Hux would enjoy some cock and ball torture. He could tie up Hux's balls in a cage, maybe squeeze them or weight them with something heavy while he forced Hux to stand in the corner in a stress position. Sometimes, using the ship's gravity was quite effective in breaking a sub's mental control and forcing them to the ecstatic tears they were seeking.

Mitaka particularly enjoyed the times he would set his sub to standing in an impossible position and then lie down in comfort on his own bed, pleasuring himself and watching.

That would be a step too far. Even though Hux had checked 'Accept' on every row of the questionnaire, including the rows that laid out the possibility of Mitaka participating sexually in the scene himself, Mitaka wouldn't cross that line.

He was getting the strong sense that Hux had hidden traps in how he was evaluating Mitaka's performance as a Dom. There were lines he must not cross, or he would permanently ruin their working relationship. And that would be far too high a price to pay for a few moments of pleasure.

"You do remember your safeword, don't you, you useless waste of space?" Mitaka inquired in a pleasant tone of voice.

Hux flushed. "Yes, sir," he said, staring at the end of the crop even harder.

"Will wonders never cease," Mitaka said, as bitchily as he could. He reached down with his other hand and pulled Hux's black boxers off, tossing them to the side. Hux's long, gorgeous legs now lay entirely exposed to his view, and Mitaka took a moment to memorize them. He would most assuredly never see them again after this session.

Speaking of this session — it was time to deliver more pain, as well as some basic humiliation, and see whether that was what got through to the proud General in his bed. Many times, the stronger the personality, the stronger the pain Mitaka needed to dish out. Some subs could only relax and release their worry and efforts to control only after Mitaka established that he had a firm, unyielding hand with them.

"Now, put your hands on your knees and spread your legs open wide. Hold that position," Mitaka instructed.

Hux's breath was coming faster and faster. He put his hands on his knees and spread his legs, sitting on the edge of Mitaka's bed.

It was surreal. He could see everything — the long cock, the tender little balls, the way the groin and hips and thighs came together. It was so beautiful; it was a work of art.

Mitaka would never not be thinking about this for the rest of his life. He would never jerk off to anything else again.

Mitaka's breath was coming faster, too. He stepped closer and used his crop to nudge Hux's cock to the other side.

"Is this all?" Mitaka asked, as though displeased.

Hux looked confused, but did not answer. He was clenching his thighs so hard that his fingertips were turning white.

Mitaka gave his left inner thigh a vicious swat with the crop. After the smack of impact, a white line appeared, then quickly turned an angry pink.

"I asked you a question," Mitaka said, sounding ominous. "I thought you would be longer."

"Yes, sir," Hux said. His voice was even smaller than before.

"Yes, sir — what?" Mitaka asked, giving his inner right thigh a matching stripe. Later, if he had his way, he would kiss each one better — but only after he was sure this scene was working for Hux, of course.

"Yes — sir, that's — this is all there is," Hux said, haltingly.

"Hmm. Disappointing, considering you're so tall."

Mitaka reassured himself that Hux had explicitly consented to "Humiliation, Verbal, Cock Size." Still, he knew there was a difference between filling out a form agreeing to a kink and experiencing that kink in real life. He searched Hux's face, looking for signs that he was not enjoying this.

He was too stoic. If only Hux would give more away! If only he would like Mitaka know whether he was enjoying any of this at all! His flaccid cock seemed to say no, but Mitaka had topped some subs in the past who never got hard, but who later thanked him enthusiastically for the experience he'd been able to give them.

How he hoped that Hux fell into that same category.

Hux was pinching his lips closed and staring into the center of the room — giving nothing away whatsoever.

"You certainly seem like nothing much," Mitaka said, reaching down and grasping Hux's cock to pull it up, as though measuring it in his hand.

In truth, it was a very nice handful, even soft — but he wasn't going to let on that was true. Not during the scene.

"It's clear the rumors that you slept your way into your position are untrue," Mitaka continued. "Imagine being attracted to this thin, pasty body. What a joke that would be. No — it must have been the nepotism, after all. A pity — I'd thought better of you."

Hux sucked in another breath of air and held it. Mitaka could tell that he was grappling with some great emotion, just under the surface.

But what?

"Remember, you can safeword out at any time," Mitaka reminded him, suddenly swamped with concern. Was he doing this wrong?

"Yes — sir," Hux said in the smallest voice yet. His fingers were digging into his thighs.

Mitaka drew back the hand with the crop, making as though he was going to strike Hux's balls with the crop directly.

Hux sobbed, closing his eyes and shaking his head from side to side. He was holding his breath, clearly in an agony of suspense.

He didn't seem to be heading towards that ecstatic state that Mitaka wanted for his subs. Hux seemed abject. Miserable. Terrified.

Terrified of Mitaka.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. Mitaka had chosen the wrong thing — the wrong path. He was causing harm, not fixing it; he was going about this exactly the opposite way than the way he should.

Mitaka dropped both the crop and Hux's cock, and stepped back. "Arkanis," he said in a high, strangled voice.

He had never safeworded out as a Dom before. But this was a special circumstance.

Hux was still holding his breath. After half a dozen seconds, he let it out in a shuddering gasp.

Mitaka was feeling waves of heat and then cold wash over him. He had just forced his superior officer — the man he cared for more than anything — to strip himself, to take pain, to receive humiliation. And all for nothing. Hux clearly hated it.

Mitaka had done exactly the wrong thing at every step here. He should have insisted on filling out the questionnaire a second time; he should have paused more, checked in more.

Hux had opened his eyes and was staring up at Mitaka in confusion. "I — I don't — Why did you..."

Mitaka took another step back, and gave a full-body shudder, like a dog coming out of a lake.

Shake it off, Dopheld, he told himself. Regroup. You can pivot here.

This doesn't have to be the end.

"Is it — over already?"

Hux was glaring down at his knees. His eyes looked suspiciously moist.

"No — no, Armitage," Mitaka said, twisting one hand in the other. Stars — had he just used these hands to spank his General? He had.

Had he just grabbed his cock? Also guilty.

He was swamped with a surge of gratitude that he had not actually struck Hux's balls with that vicious, nasty little crop. The smaller the crop, the more it hurt — and this was the second smallest crop in Mitaka's collection.

"Then... But, you used the safeword. That means — it's done?"

"Yes. I used the safeword — because you're not enjoying yourself."

Hux frowned more. He didn't seem to know how to respond.

"I expect my subs to be honest with me," Mitaka said. "So tell me honestly, Armitage Hux. Did you enjoy any of that?"

"No, sir," Hux said promptly, then braced his hands on his knees again. He seemed to be waiting for more punishment.

"Are you just — using me to punish yourself?" Mitaka demanded.

"What? No," Hux said. His tone of voice didn't sound as certain as Mitaka would have liked.

"Or did you only agree to all those things because you thought it was expected?"

Hux licked his lips. "Agreeing to all of this — this is what — I was given to expect was the standard procedure."

"Armitage," Mitaka sighed, disappointed. "There is no standard procedure with me. Everything is custom designed, just for you. So you need to be honest with me when I ask you questions. Otherwise, I won't know what to do. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, sir," Hux said in a voice so low that it could almost have been called a whisper— if Mitaka could ever use such a small, sad word to refer to anything Hux said. Which he could not. But if he could have, these two limp, short syllables would have qualified.

Mitaka sighed again, then made his way to the opposite end of the bed. Then he raised the fingers of one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

All right, Dopheld. Pull it together.

"Would you like it to be over now?" he asked. "You are free to leave, if you would like."

It was a pity he had ruined everything by assuming too much, by pushing too hard. He might have given Hux more bad memories, to go with all the ones from earlier in his life that Mitaka could not even imagine.

At the very least, he had probably just ensured that Hux would forbid anything like this in the future. He could easily include impact play, power exchange, and so on as vices to be forbidden under his austerity program.

Hux was still staring at his knees. His fingertips were still white from the pressure he was using to hold them.

"I thought — you safeworded out." He paused. "I thought the safeword was only for emergency stoppage."

"I did use the safeword," Mitaka agreed. "Tops can do that, too — if they need to. And I needed to. I can't put myself in a position where I would really hurt you."

"Phasma hurts her subs," Hux said. His voice sounded more like himself now. "You hurt yours, as well."

"Only to get them to a type of — ecstatic state. An altered mindset, brought about by the release of pleasurable brain chemicals as the result of certain types of pain and situations," Mitaka said. "But it was clearly not working that way for you."

What Mitaka wanted to say was something like, 'Please, tell me what you would like so I can try again.' But he had his chance, and he'd ruined it. Turning this around was impossible now.

Soon, Hux would stand up, put his things on, and leave.

Mitaka didn't even care about being demoted, which Hux could easily do as a response to this pathetic effort of his. He only cared about being sent away.

What if Hux sent him to a totally different ship? What would his life be like, condemned to work every day without the chance of seeing Hux's brilliant mind at work, or his supernova hair gathering every beam of light on the deck to itself?

An uneasy silence had fallen over the room. Hux was staring at the opposite wall as though it held the secret to subjugating the galaxy to his will.

Mitaka licked his lips. He had messed up — severely. He had cropped Hux's inner thighs. Said humiliating things about his cock size. Strongly implied that he was unfuckable; said that he'd only received his station by virtue of being Brendol's son.

None of those things he'd said was true, of course. He'd never dreamed any of that would really harm Hux. But maybe he had.

How could he make it up to him?

An idea was coming to him. It was probably foolhardy, but Mitaka had to at least make the attempt.

He had to at least try to give Hux a better experience. Even if he ended up demoted back to Ensign, or sent away from the Finalizer permanently — he had to at least try to fix this.

Mitaka bolstered his courage and took in a deep breath.

He would make things better. He would fix things by any means necessary.

It was the absolute least he could do, not only as a Dom, but as Hux's loyal right-hand man.

Chapter Text

Hux still wasn't certain what he had done wrong, but he knew that he'd cocked things up somehow. Something about him had displeased Mitaka enough to use the safeword.

Doms weren't supposed to use the safeword. He didn't know much, but he at least knew that.

The way things were supposed to go was that the Dom — Mitaka — was supposed to give him pain until he decided Hux had endured enough. After that, Hux would be able to feel that he had done well.

He wanted to feel that he had endured; that he could add himself to the end of the long list of submissives who had taken Mitaka's spanking and biting and cropping and anything else he decided to do.

But instead, Mitaka had given him only a little bit of pain — barely anything at all, really — before using the safeword himself. He had looked shocked and horrified as he'd stared down at Hux.

In fact, Hux had never seen Mitaka look so utterly appalled. It took a lot to fluster the normally mild-mannered Lieutenant.

Had Hux really performed so poorly as all that? He'd thought he'd been doing rather well. In truth, while shocking because it was coming from Mitaka's hand, the pain had been light to medium. Hux had endured far, far worse.

Mitaka's words had hurt much more than the physical pain. When he had jeered at Hux, calling him too physically unattractive to sleep his way to the top, Hux momentarily couldn't breathe.

He knew it to be true, which is why it hurt so much. He had always known he couldn't measure up to the others he was constantly being measured against, first in the bowels of the Imperialis and then in the various testing grounds of the Outer Rim. He was always last in any contest. He knew his thin, scrawny body was a mere glow-lamp — and a failing one — next to the bright jet engines of the other cadets, the regular, healthy First Order soldiers.

He could never truly compete on their playing field, so he had found another: the life of the mind. But he could not divorce himself from his weak, unsightly body, no matter how many fantasies he invented about transferring his consciousness into a droid or clone. No; he was stuck being too thin, too bony, too strange-looking — like some sort of deep space anomaly that needed to be tracked and avoided.

To hear the same sentiments from Mitaka's lips was a blow, and a severe one. Was that really what Mitaka thought of him?

No matter how I work, no matter how high I climb — none of it matters, does it? Hux thought. Everyone who looks at me sees what I really am — a joke, a waste of space, a nothing. Thin as a slip of paper, and just as useless.

Just as Father always said.

Even here, in the bedroom of the one person on the Finalizer he thought would never harm him, the sham that was Armitage Hux had been exposed far more cruelly than the sting of that nasty little crop on his inner thighs.

Mitaka saw through him. He must have seen through him from the start. How long had Mitaka been watching him, judging him with those clever brown eyes that saw every flinch and flail Hux had tried to hide? How long had his loyal Lieutenant been laughing at him behind his back?

Now the 'scene' where he'd be able to redeem himself through the cleansing fire of pain was over, unaccountably, and he still did not know what he had done wrong.

The blood in his veins was pounding thick and fast. He needed to get his clothes back on and leave this appalling debacle far behind him. Once he was back in the safety of his own quarters, he could start trying to forget he had ever tried to do anything as rash as this.

And Mitaka?

Hux gripped his knees harder. Mitaka would want to transfer off the Finalizer now, after this. No doubt he would take one of the promotions that had been dangled in front of him this whole time.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Hux berated himself. I should have known I couldn't escape my nature.

After all, as Brendol had brought home to him so many times in the past, Hux's main purpose in life was to fail. The unfairness of it all rushed up to his face and found itself seeping into his eyes in another show of weakness that would have had Brendol back-handing him across the room, were he here.

He had killed Brendol, but he would never be able to kill Brendol's voice inside his head.

"General?" Mitaka was saying, sounding anxious. "Are you with me?"

Well, if he must have a conversation before he left, then he would do so. At least he could face that much. After all, it might be one of the last times they conversed.

Hux lifted his chin in a slight nod and looked past Mitaka's right ear. He gathered a general sense that Mitaka was concerned, but he could not bring himself to look directly at him. He didn't want to see the disappointment.

It had been bad enough from his father, whom he hated. From Mitaka, he didn't know how he would bear it.

Mitaka had dropped the crop on the floor. He turned to collect a towel from a nearby shelf, then came and sat next to Hux on the bed, a respectful distance to his side. Without looking, he layered the towel over Hux's unclothed groin.

Maybe that's what's wrong with me, Hux thought, gripping the two edges of the towel instead of his knees. Maybe I really am that distasteful to look at.

Mitaka was looking at the side of his face now, still with that same general sense of concern. "It seems pain was not the right avenue here," he finally said. "The same for humiliation. Do I have that right?"

Hux couldn't help his lips from twisting in a bitter sneer. So, Mitaka was one of those authority figures who makes their underlings participate in their own humiliation by talking about it out loud. It was a surprise. He hadn't thought Mitaka would be cruel.

Mitaka was still speaking. "I apologize. I misread the situation, and your signals. Now I can see that you — disliked all of that. Didn't you?"

Hux breathed out through his nose carefully. The question did not seem to have a trap in it. But he knew quite a few things about innocent-seeming questions.

Still, he would be brave and answer this one.

"Yes, I disliked it," Hux finally said, with a voice that sounded like a troop transport bouncing over gravel. "Rather intensely, in fact. The pain was fine; the words were — less than perfectly comfortable."

Mitaka grimaced. "You did mark 'Accept' next to Verbal Humiliation. I'm sorry; I thought it was something you might enjoy."

Hux stared at his knees, narrowly biting back incredulous laughter. Finally, he brought himself under enough control to state, "I would prefer not to be reminded of my shortcomings. Especially in an intimate setting."

"All right, yes — we can mark that as 'Rejected,'" MItaka said. "This is precisely why I require a truthful questionnaire from all submissives before we enter a scene together. Only when I know where the pitfalls are can I avoid them."

Hux frowned. That did make a modicum of sense.

He finally turned to look at Mitaka in the face. He expected to see disappointment, derision, scorn. But instead, he found only his trusted Lieutenant's face, drenched in worry and concern — for him.

For him. Mitaka wasn't angry or upset. He was worried about Hux — even though Hux was the one who had failed.

"You ended the scene," Hux said.

"I did." Mitaka was gazing at him soulfully with his huge, chocolate-brown eyes. They seemed to draw Hux in.

Hux swallowed and gripped the towel harder. "What did I do wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh, no — no. You didn't do anything wrong! I was the one, I was — it was me, I fucked this all up," Mitaka said. His eyes looked suspiciously moist. "I'm sorry I didn't check on you better."

Hux blinked some stray moisture out of his own eyes and stared at his Lieutenant, who did not seem to be lying.

"I thought the safeword was for me to use as an emergency stop," Hux said. He could not stop his mind from seizing on the discrepancy and worrying at it, the same way he would pick at any imperfect patch of fabric on his uniform sleeves, or his cuticles, until he made the blemish far worse.

"Doms can safeword out, too. If they need to stop the scene immediately. And when I — when I saw, or thought — that you truly hated it and were — ah, having a bad reaction — then I used it. It was for my own safety as well as yours."

"Ah," Hux said. He did not fully understand what Mitaka meant, but he also could not bring himself to ask.

"If I'd known that you would start having a panic attack —" Mitaka continued.

"I do not have panic attacks," Hux informed him.

"Oh. Yes, of course."

Hux decided to elaborate. Still gripping the towel, he continued, "Panic attacks are a weakness, a luxury that the First Order cannot afford. Hence, I ceased indulging in them at an early age."

Mitaka paused. "I see. And does — the First Order — wish to end this attempt and move on? Or pivot to try something else?"

Mitaka laid his hand on the bed between them, close enough for Hux to touch, if he wanted to, but not close enough to touch him accidentally.

Hux stared at it. This muscular little hand had just been at work on him, and the experience had been fairly dreadful. It had made him flash back to all those other times from earlier in his life; times when he'd cowered from his father's strap, or Pryde's sneers, or the blows of the older boys at the Academy.

He had been — well, he did not have panic attacks, as he'd said. But he had been perturbed.

Mitaka had not truly harmed him, though. And his warm, melting looks now were at odds with the cruel things he had said before. Perhaps he really had only said those things out of misunderstanding what Hux might enjoy.

"It seems... you sent a message that I was not equipped to receive," he finally stated. "This was merely a bad handshake."

Mitaka licked his lips. "Similar to that unparseable packet we encountered off Bialis VI?" he said cautiously.

"Yes," Hux agreed, watching him. "This was merely a — calibration error."

"When a new technical crew takes over, there are often — protocol misfires," Mitaka agreed.

His face seemed so open, so giving.

I can trust him, the thought came to Hux.

Or, if I can't, then there really is no good left in the galaxy.

Hux reached out and laid his hand over Mitaka's on the bed, feeling the warm, alive mass of it under his fingers.

"Then — shall we recalibrate?"

Mitaka's face held a sunrise of a smile. "General, it would be my honor."

Mitaka led him into his refresher unit, which was large enough, due to his rank, to have a real-water tub.

"I almost never use this," Mitaka confided, starting the water and bustling about the room to gather small packets and tubes, which he placed along the rim. "I can't help but feel that it's shockingly wasteful."

"All gray water goes to irrigate the hydroponics deck," Hux informed him. He was feeling much more like himself again, after a drink of water and a few sugar-crystal-drenched cubes of carbohydrate loaf that Mitaka had insisted he eat — something about rebalancing his electrolytes.

Hux had never been offered sweet treats after any previous beatings. So already, this was a step up.

Another step up was how tenderly Mitaka was treating him now: filling the tub with hot water and bubbles for him, encouraging him into it, then handing him various products.

It was soothing to be in a real-water bathtub, Hux admitted. His own quarters had an even larger one, which he also never used.

"May I wash your hair?"

Mitaka's face looked so hopeful, and Hux really did want to try something different, so he nodded. His reward came immediately when Mitaka gave him another one of his smiles.

Mitaka moved around behind him and tenderly poured warm water over his head, ensuring it did not reach his eyes. Then he began rubbing specially scented soap through Hux's hair, gently scratching at his scalp with every firm rub of his fingertips.

The hot water seemed to permeate Hux. It's true that his ass stung a bit, especially the one spot that Mitaka had bitten. But the lingering pain was not nearly as intense as the way his skin was flushing all over — not only at the heat of the water, but at the presence of the man behind him, and at the way his fingers were playing Hux like a vioflute.

Hux was warm, surrounded by water. The fingers on his scalp were giving him jolts of pleasure that traveled from his scalp down his neck and spine, all the way down his legs to his toes, and then back up.

"Is that good?" Mitaka's voice came from so near his ear that he could not prevent himself from shuddering slightly in reaction.

"Yes — yes, indeed," Hux replied. He was gripping the large sponge Mitaka had handed to him, but he was no longer using it to wash himself underneath his protective layer of bubbles. Now he was just gripping it as though he could transfer into it all the strange, swirling feelings that Mitaka was causing under his skin.

"Would you like anything — else?" Mitaka asked.

Hux turned, and Mitaka's face was right there. His normally pale skin was lightly flushed, and Hux suddenly knew it was not merely from being close to the warm water.

It was almost impossible not to kiss him. But they had not discussed that.

Would Mitaka want that? Did he dare make the offer?

Hux squeezed the sponge harder.

"I would like to discuss Section Six, sexual activities," he said. "I believe I marked all of those lines with the sigil for 'Accept.'"

"You did," Mitaka said, drawing back an inch. He was watching Hux intently. "But did you really mean it? Or did you just mark everything on the questionnaire that way out of pride?"

In response, Hux leaned forward and brushed his lips across Mitaka's.

"Oh — good," Mitaka breathed out. He laid his hands on the sides of Hux's wet face and pulled the two of them together.

It was a bit slippery and wet at first, but soon, Mitaka's warm, plush lips were pulling at Hux's, pressing and retreating, pushing and yielding, so much that he did not know which hand was holding the sponge anymore. He let go of it so he could grab at Mitaka's arm, and then scrabble at the neck of his tunic to try to get it off him.

"Come into the tub," Hux panted.

"Right now?" Mitaka asked, his eyes as dark as deep space.

"No — take off your uniform first," Hux snapped. He could abide some sloppiness in pursuit of passion, but a drenched uniform for no reason was over the line.

Also, this way he got the opportunity to watch Mitaka stand up and strip next to the tub. When his trousers came off, his erection sprang free, bobbing in the warm, steamy air.

Mitaka couldn't climb into the tub fast enough, and Hux eagerly made room for him, his heart pounding all through his body. Everything seemed to be moving too slowly, like a dream, but once Mitaka was kneeling between his thighs, they were kissing again right away.

Some water sloshed over the side, but Hux ignored it. Refresher units were equipped for a bit of excess moisture.

What was far more important was mapping out Mitaka's mouth with his own, and feeling Mitaka's warm fingers trailing up and down him — this time bringing pleasure instead of pain.

"I thought — I'd done it wrong," Hux said in between kisses.

"No — no, you didn't do a single thing wrong," Mitaka assured him, following it with another kiss. "Except for not being honest on the questionnaire."

"I was honest," Hux objected.

Mitaka drew his face back and gave him a look of extreme dubiousness.

"All right — I admit I was not entirely honest. I just did not — still do not — see the point of most of the listed activities."

"I want to try different things with you until I know exactly what makes you tick," Mitaka said in a way that could only be described as 'sultry.'

To be honest, Hux had previously had no idea that his unassuming little Lieutenant could say such things at all, much less in such a seductive tone of voice. He had to kiss him more in response.

"I want to take you apart with my fingers, with my tongue," Mitaka expanded into the side of Hux's face. He was running his hands up and down every part of Hux that he could reach while more pressed against him than not. "Give you pleasure after pleasure. Blindfold you so all you can do is feel my hands, my mouth, and hear my voice telling you how much I want you. Worship you all over with every tool at my disposal."

Hux was already flushed from the hot water, but now he was also blushing at Mitaka's outrageousness.

"Is that one of your — standard scenes?" he asked with a sudden stab of unease.

"No — but there's nothing standard about you," Mitaka said. One of his hands had found Hux's cock and was playing with it loosely in the water — enough for Hux to lean forward, chasing more contact. "You must know I've wanted you for years."

"I thought — we were merely collegial," Hux said.

"Collegial." Mitaka slanted him a disbelieving look.

"I would never abuse my position over you to pressure you into unwilling congress," Hux objected. "As the General of this ship —"

"As the Dom of this scene," Mitaka echoed him with a smile.

Hux's lips could not help but curve up in a pale imitation of such a fervent expression.

"It seems we may each have our own sphere of command," he said.

"As for you abusing your position — I know you would never. Just let me — and after, you can tell me if any part of me seemed unwilling."

That seemed to make sense, especially when Mitaka dove back in for more kissing.

They kissed until the water was too chilly to be pleasant, and Mitaka urged him out of it, then spent long minutes drying every inch of him. Hux's skin scorched from all the blushes at each heated glance Mitaka was giving his body.

"Beautiful," Mitaka said reverently, finishing drying off his hair for the third time.

Even if he was just saying it because it seemed like the thing to say, there was something deeply satisfying about hearing it.

"You're still wet," Hux objected.

"That's easily fixed. Wait a second," Mitaka said with another grin, stepping into the forced-air chamber.

Towels were a more comfortable method of drying off one's body, but the forced-air chamber built into the corner of the refresher unit was far faster. It was made for situations in which all personnel must rush to battle stations as quickly as possible. It pulsed violent waves of air over Mitaka's body, drying him off in a trice.

Hux knew from experience that it was hardly comfortable. Having that much air pushed across your body, that fast, was almost painful, in fact.

"Was that really worth it?" he wondered as Mitaka stepped out of the chamber.

"To have another two minutes in bed with you? Absolutely," Mitaka said, pulling him back toward the bedroom.

In the face of such enthusiasm, who was Hux to hold back?

In just a few short minutes, he found himself on the bed again, this time lying in the center with Mitaka between his legs, sucking down his cock as though he had trained for nothing else than this his whole life so far.

Mitaka insisted on asking him before he did anything new — is this all right, would it be acceptable if I, would you like me to, can I, may I, may I please?

This time, Hux kept on saying yes, but it wasn't the same as when he had filled out that spreadsheet. This time, he was saying yes because he wanted to say yes to anything Mitaka wanted to give him.

Right now, that was his very talented mouth, and a vibrating toy he was rocking into Hux's rear end. It had an odd shape that Mitaka explained would be able to hit his prostate.

Hux had his eyes closed. Part of him wanted Mitaka to blindfold him, the way he'd mentioned in the bath — so he'd be unable to sense anything else than the pleasure Mitaka was lavishing on his body. The other part of him was still too paranoid to willingly give up that control. But at least he could close his eyes and focus on the feeling of Mitaka's hot, tight mouth, so adept at its job. There was no hint of teeth, only Mitaka's tongue licking up him like fire. Only Mitaka's lips pursed around him, moving him in and out with such assurance that he must have done this dozens — no, hundreds of times before.

Hux fought down a surge of jealousy. It seemed that Mitaka truly was one of the best practitioners of fellatio in the entire Order, and right now, Hux was the lucky recipient of his talents. He should be grateful — and, with the next long pull of Mitaka's throat on his sexual organ, he was. In fact, he could feel that he was rapidly approaching a climax.

As a rule, Hux did not take lovers. Anyone in the Order would no doubt seek to use his weakness against him politically, should he exhibit any. It was far safer to hold himself apart from all others.

But Mitaka was unlike anyone else. Hux had always known that — he just had not previously known the full extent of the truth.

Mitaka was not only the perfect Lieutenant, but he was also a caring Dom who sought to do the right thing — and an assiduous, generous lover, as well.

If Hux couldn't trust Dopheld Mitaka, then he couldn't trust anyone at all.

I do trust him, Hux thought with his rapidly dwindling supply of coherent thoughts. Maybe I'm a fool. But I do — fates help me.

Mitaka was pressing the vibrating toy inside of him, stroking his fingers around its base and rocking it gently back and forth, then side to side.

Hux knew he was making sounds, moving his hands restlessly as he felt the pleasure under his skin grow hotter and hotter. The snub end of the toy was pulsing against some spot deep inside of him, angled up, almost at his lower abdomen. That spot was sending out vivid pulses of even more pleasure, but pleasure in a different color, as it were — a different type of pleasure from the other things Mitaka was also doing to him at the same time.

Forget the vioflute. Mitaka was playing him like an instrument with far more complexity — a seven-string hallikset, at least.

His mouth, sucking down Hux's cock as though he didn't need to breathe — his clever fingers rocking the toy inside of him and stroking all around his tender, sensitive perineum and his balls and the vivid ache where Mitaka had cropped him earlier — and the overwhelming feeling of safety, were all bringing Hux to a fever pitch, like water about to boil over.

"Ahh — ahh!" Hux cried, feeling it about to happen.

Mitaka did not pull off. He buried his face deeper, holding on through Hux's climax, drawing out his pleasure even more as it petered out.

Then he pulled his mouth off, gave each red crop mark on Hux's inner thighs its own kiss, and smiled up at Hux. His eyes were darker and wilder than Hux had ever seen them, dark as wine. His hair stuck up in the back from where the forced-air chamber had abused it.

"Good?" Mitaka asked, his eyes raking over Hux's face and body.

Hux could barely put two words together. He was still panting, floating, tingling with the force of his release. He made a weak gesture and an incoherent sound that would simply have to do. Wasn't Mitaka adept at understanding him — apart from that disastrous first attempt at a scene?

Mitaka did understand him. His smile turned from hopeful to sleek and satisfied, and he moved up next to Hux, lying within arm's reach, but not imposing.

Hux wouldn't have that. He turned with some difficulty and pulled Mitaka into his arms quite firmly, hooking his chin over Mitaka's shoulder.

It would be difficult for him to get away now.

They relaxed for long, pleasure-filled moments, feeling their heartbeats equalize with each other.

It was all so unexpected, so surreal. Was he dreaming?

Was he really here in Mitaka's bed, holding him close?

Was the revised scene now over?

Hux's tension and fears had momentarily retreated, but now they roared back. He felt himself stiffen. After this scene, which was either done or about to be, would he have to go back to his regular life?

Would Mitaka go back to being nothing more than his assiduous, respectful aide?

He clutched Mitaka closer, feeling a swamp of emotions rising up in him — or sucking him down; he wasn't sure which. The feelings were thick and tarry, impossible to reason or pretend away.

He tried to hold the feelings away from himself; tried to focus on the fact that he was here right now, safe, unharmed, and cherished — at least for a brief, shining moment — and that he should enjoy it to the fullest extent while he had it.

But no matter how he fought, the emotions wouldn't be fought off. They were invading him — they were going to upend him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"General?" Mitaka's voice came from his shoulder. Hearing his hard-won title in Mitaka's voice only served to remind him that this time together was almost at an end, and that tipped him over the edge.

Hux sobbed, spasming in place. Then he got his voice under control. He refused to vocalize during this embarrassing moment — he would bear it stoically, like a man.

As much as he told himself he should be able to bear it stoically, now that he had started, it was impossible to stop. He could not prevent himself from weeping silently into Mitaka's shoulder.

He screwed his eyes closed so hard he would probably give himself a headache at this rate, but he couldn't open them. He couldn't stop crying — every time he tried, his ragged breaths caught on themselves and redoubled his tears. He had lost all control.

Mitaka was stroking down his back with a warm, firm hand. The feeling was hypnotic.

"There, there," Mitaka murmured into his ear. "There, there."

Hux was still weeping, but now he was also half-laughing, because it was such a strange, stereotypical thing to say. It was the sort of thing people said in New Republic holo-dramas, or terrible plays. No one really said 'There, there' in real life.

Once again, Mitaka was surprising him. He was not repelled. He was not shouting at Hux, berating him, kicking him out — and perhaps Hux should have expected this warm, accepting treatment, but he hadn't.

The most unexpected part was that it was working. Mitaka's steady, reassuring voice in his ear, and the gentle yet authoritative strokes of his hands down Hux's back, were working in tandem to calm him down.

He felt — cleansed, even redeemed. Hollowed out on the inside, and not just from that epic orgasm — from being held so tenderly, looked at and touched so sweetly, and allowed to cry in someone's arms. He had never known he could feel this way.

The knowledge that it was coming to an end was a bitter shard of glass in the middle of his throat. No matter how much he wept, it wouldn't come back out.

Hux kept on crying, but it was finally running out of steam. His childish tendency towards the overemotional could not withstand the treatment of an experienced Dominant like Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka.

I really don't deserve him, Hux thought, feeling his sobs slow down.

Finally he was lying quiescent in Mitaka's arms, feeling like a jellyfish spread over the floor of a fishing boat — no bones, no scales, no armor. He could be hurt so many different ways right now, and he had nothing to defend himself with, not even a cutting glare.

Mitaka pressed a tiny kiss to his temple. "It's all right," he said. "It's normal to have some big feelings after a scene. Especially a first scene."

I make them cry, Hux remembered Phasma saying. But Mitaka makes them weep.

He hoped Mitaka was not in the habit of embracing all of his submissives and comforting them in precisely this way, while naked and gazing at them in compassion. Then again, if he was, it meant that he'd known what to do for Hux.

Hux gave a little shudder as Mitaka moved a damp cloth over his face, cleaning up the unsavory fluids that had leaked out of him during his loss of physical control.

He was exhausted. He felt that he could not move — not even if battle stations were sounded. He would never move from this spot; he would stay here forever — or at least until the start of Alpha Shift, when he needed to be back on the bridge, correct and proper in his spotless black uniform.

Had he really thought he would go back to his quarters and get through some paperwork tonight? How foolish the Armitage Hux of the past had been to think that he would be in any state for something as mundane as paperwork after Dopheld Mitaka was finished with him. He could barely lift one hand to his aching temples.

"Better?" Mitaka asked quietly.

Hux managed to flutter his eyes open and pull back far enough to look Mitaka in the face.

"Better," he finally managed to make his mouth pronounce — not without difficulty.

Mitaka smiled at him — shyly, as though Hux was special. And maybe he was. Maybe Mitaka didn't look at all of the subs he played with this way.

"That seemed like something you needed," he commented. "I'm glad, if so."

Hux was still clutching at him, and he selfishly resolved not to be the one to let go first.

From this distance, he fancied he could detect every emotion in MItaka's eyes. He searched them, looking for the derision that he had heard in the first attempt at a scene, but finding only warm acceptance and a type of animated concern. And heat — he saw heat, as well.

Mitaka was hard against him.

"I want more," Hux said, reaching down and pulling Mitaka's ass against himself more firmly. It was a firm, pleasing double handful, just the right shape and size for Hux to cup. "I want you to get off, too."

Mitaka was shaking his head. "You're in no state to determine where your boundaries are right now. I'm not going to take advantage. The last thing I want to do is kark things up again."

Hux felt bereft. "If you do not wish to —"

"Oh, I wish to. Very much, sir, you don't have any idea how much; I've been — noticing you for, ah, quite some time."

Hux blinked. "We'll revisit that later."

"Yes, sir," Mitaka said, blushing.

"In the meantime, surely it would not be over the line for you to touch yourself while I watch," Hux suggested.

Maybe it was better to build in a bit of distance, so Mitaka would feel more at ease, knowing he wasn't forcing him to do anything he would regret later.

Mitaka's eyes flared. "You would be interested in that?"

"I believe I marked 'Accept' to every line on the survey," Hux said, trying for a 'quip.'

It must have worked, because Mitaka laughed out loud, joyfully, and pressed another kiss to Hux's lips. Soon, he was lying next to Hux, one hand braced on his chest and the other one hard at work on himself.

Hux gazed into his eyes, watching them cloud in a haze of pleasure. He was so tempting, lying right there, with one warm hand on Hux's skin and the other one speeding up. The slick sounds of the lube in his hand filled the room, along with Mitaka's breathy little gasps as he drove his pleasure higher while looking at Hux.

He's looking at me to get more aroused, not less, Hux realized. He does want me. Really and truly.

Hux tilted his head down and watched him at work; how the flushed-red tip of his cock kept popping out of the end of his ring of fingers, questing, driving for more.

He decided to help matters along. After all, Mitaka had just helped him.

"I've noticed you on my bridge for years," Hux said in a low, intense voice. "You always do an exemplary job. I don't praise you nearly enough. Quite honestly, Lieutenant, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"So — let's — let's never find out," Mitaka gasped. His eyes widened as the pre-shock of his orgasm hit him. "Ahh — it's, it's, I'm —"

Hux watched his face as the full force of it hit him, along with a hot rush of fluid hitting his stomach. Mitaka's face smoothed out into the picture of angelic bliss.

Hux couldn't prevent himself from pulling him closer and kissing his face. There was a mess to clean up, but that could be handled later.

For the moment, they could both rest in each other.

Hux nuzzled his face into Mitaka's head, watching how his breath ruffled the hairs, feeling the full-body shiver running all down Mitaka at the sensation.

"Lieutenant," he finally murmured.

"Yes, General?"

"It is my determination that these activities of yours are not harmful to the Order, and so should not fall under the austerity program."

"Oh, good," Mitaka started to say.

Hux squeezed him closer, to cut him off. "As long as I can continue to — participate. With your interest and consent, of course."

"Of course," Mitaka echoed from somewhere near his neck. "Appropriate supervision is essential for any activity in the First Order."

Hux let himself smile fully. "I'm not certain how appropriate my supervision will turn out to be. But I can promise that I'm an assiduous learner."

Mitaka laughed, his voice rich and warm. The sound was not one Hux ever heard on the bridge. It was instantly addictive.

Hux had resolved not to be the one to let go first, and he wouldn't. Not now that their communication protocols were linked up, functioning, green. Not now that all systems were go.