Archive of Our Own ^beta

When being captured, roughed up, stripped, dressed in what could only be described as the robes of a dancing girl and thrown into a transparisteel cell isn’t the weirdest thing to happen to you in a day, you know it’s gonna be a pretty wild one.

Poe had been captured before and would likely be again. He had never, however, been shoved into a cell with a mortal enemy dressed in a revealing slip of fabric that barely covered his dignity.

By the gaping, bemused expression on General Hux’s face, he was having a similarly weird day.

“Heya, Hugs,” Poe said, as if they casually bumped into each other all the time and this was just one such occasion, “how’s it goin’?”

“Dameron,” Hux said flatly, not moving from where he was leaning against the far wall, though the line of his bare shoulders tightened, “of course. The cherry on this proverbial shavitcake of a day.”

Poe laughed; damn, who knew he’d be funny? “What’s a nice General like you doin’ in a place like this?” he said. Hux hadn’t tried to kill him on sight, so that was a good sign. Or a bad one. Perhaps he was injured. Or knew something Poe didn’t about their current situation.

“Waiting to be sold as a pleasure slave, I assume,” Hux said with measured disinterest. His slightly over-wide stare belied his apparent calm; he was scared. It was understandable. Poe was kinda scared too. He really didn’t want to be a sex slave.

Most likely no one wanted to be a sex slave.

“Yeah.” Poe gestured to his outfit then to the row of full cells in the room beyond their own cage, each containing one or two similarly dressed captives. “I think we’re about to be shown to some buyers. Hence the uh, costumes and cells that look like display cabinets. I keep my model ships in something similar.”

Hux’s jaw tightened. “This was not how I imagined this day would go.”

Poe laughed again, despite the adrenaline pooling in his veins. “Does anyone expect this?”

Hux seemed to concede that with a terse nod. His severe ginger brows drew together and after a beat he said; “It would be prudent to desist from any...unpleasantness between us for the duration of this damnable situation.”

Poe grinned broadly. “That fancy talk for ‘truce’?”

Hux rolled his eyes. “While our chances of escape seem infinitesimal, they are improved if we agree to work together.”

Poe gave an easy nod. “Agreed. Enemy of my enemy and all that.” Honestly, it was a sound plan. They both had enough problems here without worrying about their cellmate trying to strangle them. Not that Poe could trust Hux; the man wouldn’t piss on Poe if he was on fire. But he was clearly a pragmatist and one who wanted to live. So, for now, they’d have to work together.

The silence between them was thicker than a Rodia swamp. Hux folded his arms over his chest and looked anywhere but at Poe. Poe allowed his gaze to travel over Hux’s flimsy tunic; white, semi-sheer fabric draped over one bony shoulder and down to skim the top of his creamy thighs. Poe could almost make out the shape of his prick beneath. He hadn’t really thought about how attractive Hux was before; the man was a literal genocidal monster, after all. But here, he was all but confronted with his lithe frame, his slim waist, his pale skin. Poe swallowed. He was beautiful, in the way a sharpened blade can be; cold, precise, deadly.

“Dameron.”

“Yeah?” Poe’s head snapped up to find Hux glaring at him with a look bordering fury. “What?”

Hux opened his mouth to say something vicious but thought better of it. He seemed to shake off his anger with a long, slow exhale.

“Do you have any sort of plan? Will your allies come for you?” he asked, his tone terse. But there was a slight tremor beneath those clipped Imperial tones.

“Oh. Yeah, they’ll come. I fired an SOS off before the slavers took me. Whether we’ll still be here when they arrive is another matter.”

“If you are sold, they will have trouble tracking you down. You could be taken anywhere in the galaxy.”

“Exactly. They’ll figure it out though,” Poe said with easy confidence. They would. His buddies didn’t leave people behind. Ever.

Hux scoffed. “I do not know whether your faith in your allies is admirable or foolhardy.”

“They’ve never let me down yet.” Poe stepped a little closer and Hux straightened up, sinewy muscles tensing under pale skin. “Will the Order come for you?”

Something akin to grief flickered over Hux’s face for a second before it vanished, tucked away again behind a mask of distain.

“No. They’ll send a probe, once I’m overdue, but that’s all. We’ll be long gone by the time they even declare the mission overdue.” He paused, as if deciding whether to continue. “Perhaps when Snoke was supreme leader he may have sent someone to investigate but...Ren will hardly be desperate for me to return. This works out well for him; he’s rid of me without having to get his own hands dirty.” The bitterness in his tone was palpable.

“Huh, didn’t know there was such dissension in the ranks.” Poe stepped closer still. He was almost close enough to touch now, should he want, and Hux eyed him warily, arms tightening over his chest. Poe had never been this close to Hux, even back when he was captured and tortured by Ren on the Finalizer. He really was very pretty, all pale skin and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were a soft green, like beach-glass shot through with flecks of grey, and rimmed with pale gold lashes.

Hux waved a dismissive hand. “We do not tend to broadcast our interpersonal issues. It hardly makes for a united front.”

“I met Ren once.”

“I know.”

“‘Course you do,” Poe smirked, “so you know what I think of him.”

Hux nodded. “I was outside the interrogation room, so I can imagine.” Again, he paused, no doubt carefully selecting his words. “You’d be surprised to know our opinions on Ren are probably rather similar.”

“That is surprising,” Poe said and gave a low whistle, “‘cause I think he’s an overgrown toddler with a mean streak and daddy issues.”

And stars above, Hux’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile.

“As I said,” Hux replied, “on this at least, our opinions align.”

Poe snorted a laugh despite himself. This day just kept getting weirder.

“And...I have some experience with Ren’s...abilities. So I can understand your dislike of him and his interrogation methods,” Hux added, his tone no-nonsense as if reading a dry report.

Ah so, that was it. Ren treated Hux the way he seemed to treat everyone; as playthings to damage and toss about as he liked. That explained the ill-concealed hate on Hux’s part. Likely Hux was only telling Poe this to try and get Poe to feel sorry for him, or to build some sort of camaraderie he intended to use later.

Poe’s musings were interrupted by the overhead lights flickering brighter, washing over the cells with a red-hued glow. The main doors opened with a swish and people flowed in—a surprisingly large amount of people for such an illegal and immoral operation. Disgust twisted in Poe’s guts; it seemed more people than he’d imagined were willing to buy pleasure in such a depraved way. Hux snapped to attention, his anxiety obvious in the slight tremor of his hands as he flexed them and then balled them both into painfully tight fists. Poe stepped into his space and lowered his voice.

“It would be better for us both if we could manage to be sold together,” Poe said. Hux gave him a confused look, stark ginger brows drawn down. “Better the devil you know, and all that.”

Hux pursed his lips but slowly nodded. “There is some sense in that. We’ll have more chance of escape if we remain together. But how are we to achieve such a thing?”

“I have one idea.”

Hux raised an expectant eyebrow.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Poe continued.

Hux eyed the approaching crowd. “Spit it out, Dameron.”

“We need to convince the buyers we’re better—more fun!—as a pair.”

Hux looked confused for a moment until his brows shot up in understanding. “No.”

Poe gave him a pleading look.

“No, Dameron. No.”

“Okay. You got a better idea, General Genius?” Poe said, hands on hips, head tilted expectantly.

Hux huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The buyers were nearing their cell; it was now or never. Hux glanced over at them then back at Poe.

“Okay. Fine.” He ground out, somehow managing to sound both angry and defeated at once.

Poe moved into Hux’s space and insinuated an arm around his waist. Hux flinched, then stiffened so much it was like holding a droid.

“We’re gonna have to sell it, Hugs.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Really, that’s what you’re worrying about right now?”

“Oh, shut up!” Hux snipped. The first buyer was almost at their door. “Just kiss me before I decide to strangle you instead!”

Poe grinned. “Kinky.”

Hux glared, nostrils flared, and for a moment Poe thought he’d pushed too far. So before Hux could actually strangle him, Poe kissed him. Hux made a surprised noise against his mouth, but acquiesced surprisingly quickly, his plush lips tentative and unsure under Poe’s kisses, as if he’d never done this before. Outside the cell, a few potential buyers gathered and watched with open interest. Poe could feel the weight of many pairs of eyes on them, so he cupped Hux’s cheek with one hand and let the other rest on the man’s hip. Poe was pleased to be rewarded with a breathy gasp into his mouth. He was unsure as to whether it was inspired by surprise or want, but Hux didn’t push Poe away, and so Poe used the opportunity to slide his tongue into Hux’s mouth. The realisation that he was currently tonguing a genocidal megalomaniac did cross Poe’s mind for a moment, but it went the same way most of his restraint usually did; he pushed it aside in favour of the more fun, stupid plan.

Perhaps it was the danger of it—their situation and who Poe was kissing—but stars above, it was thrilling in a way Poe hadn’t felt outside a cockpit for a very long time.

And it was working; they’d drawn a crowd. A few onlookers were tapping on datapads—probably bidding on them—and a couple more looked like they were considering it.

Hux pulled away, turning his head aside and away from the onlookers to suck in a couple of shaky breaths. He was trembling all over, either from fear or the heat of their kissing, or perhaps both.

“Alright?” Poe asked and Hux huffed.

“No, I am about as far from alright as one can be,” Hux said, breathless. “Kissing resistance scum was not high on my list of things to do before I die.” His tone was as sharp as ever, but his hands shook where they rested against Poe’s shoulders.

Poe leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of Hux’s ear as he murmured low enough that only Hux could hear, “I know. But let’s just grin and bear it and make sure we don’t get separated. You can go back to wanting to murder me after.”

Hux gave a stiff, jerky nod, trying to school his expression back into cool detachment. But the tremor in his hands betrayed him, and Poe could feel the tense, too-quick rise and fall of Hux’s chest against his own. Hux, who always seemed so cold and severe in the First Order propaganda holos, was just a man after all; fallible, human, afraid.

The crowd beyond the transparisteel cell was growing. The room had shifted into a low, expectant hum, buyers nudging each other, pointing towards their cell. The show they’d put on was proving popular enough that people were actually jostling to get a look at them. Poe would be a little proud, if the whole situation wasn’t so thoroughly humiliating. And the larger the crowd grew, the more Hux’s skinny frame shook under Poe’s hands.

“You’re shaking,” Poe said.

“It is cold,” Hux snapped, then swallowed and lowered his voice, “and this situation is intolerable.”

“Yeah, I know. But the alternative is we get split up and probably no one ever sees you again. Surely I’m more tolerable than that?”

Hux stiffened in his arms. Ah, Poe had struck a nerve there.

Poe leaned in slowly and kissed him once more, lingering, softer this time, because he could feel Hux was close to shattering and if they were going to sell this, Hux had to look like he was enjoying it. Poe tried to pour feeling into it, let his body say what his mouth couldn’t: trust me. I’ll get us out of this.

When he drew back, Hux’s lips were kiss-swollen, his breath unsteady, his pale skin glowing under the red lights. Poe knew exactly how it looked from the outside: enticing, dangerous, profitable. The bidders would be climbing over each other to own them.

And that was the point.

“See?” Poe murmured, low enough that it was almost swallowed by the noise of the crowd. “We’re gonna survive this, Hugs. Together.”

The slavers barked orders to one another, datapads flashing with final bids. The light above their cell flickered to a dim red and the door hissed open.

Two guards stepped inside. One of them jerked a thumb toward Poe and Hux, leering. “The pair of you—together. Highest bidder wants you as a matched set.”

Poe shot Hux a triumphant look, though his stomach twisted. Sold, together. That was step one of the plan, but only step one. Now came the hard part: figuring out how to survive being property with an enemy as a begrudging ally.

After their hands were bound together by a set of gold-plated binders joined by a couple of feet of chain—Hux’s left hand linked to Poe’s right—they were led away from the room and through a side door, along a plushly decorated corridor and into a guest room. The guards left, the door closed and then locked with a clunk of gears, and they were alone.

The room itself was ridiculously decadent. It looked less like a prison cell and more like some warped, overdone idea of a love nest. Poe was pretty sure he’d seen one just like it on one of the overblown old romance holo-dramas he pretended he didn’t watch. Rich, plush fabrics draped the walls in crimson and gold, and the bed was ridiculously large, heaped with silken pillows and covered with tasseled blankets. A bedside table was loaded with ripe fruits, a pitcher of water cold enough to make condensation drip down the sides and, jarringly, bottles of scented oils and a vulgar assortment of sex toys. It was obscene, in every way possible.

Hux’s lip curled in disgust as his eyes swept over the space. “Charming,” he muttered, tugging at the chain between them as if he could somehow snap it through sheer force of irritation. “Just the sort of depravity I would expect from the scum of the galaxy.”

Poe gave the chain a testing rattle. The gold plating was just for show; underneath, the cuffs were solid durasteel. “Guessing they want us rested up for our new owner.”

Hux stiffened. “I am not property,” he snapped, “I will not—” He stopped, visibly reining himself in. His pale throat worked as he swallowed, his fury warring with something more vulnerable. Dread.

“Not what?” Poe prompted, leaning back against the wall.

“Not going to play the part they expect,” Hux said finally, voice taut as a bowstring. “I will not…debase myself for the entertainment of some slobbering beast with more credits than morals.”

Poe’s eyebrows ticked up towards his hairline. “Don’t think you have much right to criticise other people’s morals, General.”

Hux spluttered, indignant. “And you do not have the right to judge me, Dameron,” he spat, “when you’re as morally bankrupt as whoever bought us. You Resistance types are all the same; revelling your way across the galaxy, spreading chaos and debauchery wherever you go.”

Poe snorted at the tirade. This guy really thought he had the moral high ground here, after the Hosnian Cataclysm?

“Maybe I do revel a little. And I enjoy a good debauch as much as the next guy,” Poe said, “but at least I don’t commit genocide.”

His words landed like a slap, harder than he expected, and Hux’s mouth snapped shut. His expression flickered with something that looked almost rueful, before he covered it with a sneer. Hux’s glare could have peeled paint, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he sat down stiffly on the edge of the ridiculous bed, his robe slipping scandalously high on his thigh. He yanked it back down, cheeks flushing.

“In any case,” Hux said, his voice softening, as he chose to push on instead of engaging in an aimless argument, “I will not submit to whatever lewd act they expect us to engage in.”

Poe moved to sit beside him and Hux glowered.

“I’m not sure we have much of a choice, Hugs,” Poe said, hating that he was probably right. Sex was supposed to be fun, intimate, special, consensual. Not whatever the hell this was.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Not happening.” Poe sprawled onto the bed beside him, their chain clinking as it forced Hux’s hand to rest awkwardly near Poe’s hip. “So. What’s the plan, General?”

Hux exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted, but there was a spark of sharp calculation behind his pale eyes. He was clever, no doubt. He’d never have risen to General at such an age if he wasn’t.

“We wait. Watch. Our buyer is certain to show themselves soon. With enough observation, perhaps a weakness will become apparent.”

“Observation, huh?” Poe smirked, rolling onto his side to face him. “Sounds like you’re reaching. You don’t have a plan.”

Hux gave him a flat look. “Observation is the beginning of a plan. Good strategists don’t jump in with both feet before they’ve scoped out the landing. If we are to escape, it will be because I discern a flaw and exploit it.”

“Right,” Poe drawled. “And here I was thinking it’d be my roguish charm and quick improvisation that saved the day.”

“You mistake reckless stupidity for improvisation.”

“Still got me this far.”

“You are alive because of luck, not skill,” Hux hissed, “and because FN-2187 decided to go insane and release you from custody.”

Poe snorted a laugh and Hux glared at him, mouth curling into a moue.

“Do you take anything seriously, or is everything one big, ridiculous joke to you?” Hux spat, hands gripping his bare knees so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I’m not making light of our situation,” Poe said, “I’m just trying to be optimistic. But panicking won’t help us either. Trust me, I’ve been in worse spots than this.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Hux muttered. But the edge in his voice wavered. He looked down at his bare knees, the fabric of his thin tunic crumpled in his clenched fist. His lips parted once, then closed again.

Poe let the silence stretch, not pushing, just waiting. Eventually, Hux shifted uneasily, tugging at the chain between them.

“What...do you imagine they will have us do?” Hux asked, his voice brittle.

Poe shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. This is my first time as a sex slave too.”

“My guess...would not be informed on much previous experience,” Hux muttered and it took Poe a moment to make sense of the statement. Poe blinked, as the revelation slotted into place. Of course. Hux, all sharp edges and cold distance, had never let anyone close enough to touch him, let alone love him. The weight of it pressed on Poe’s chest. No one—even Armitage Hux—should have to endure this as their first taste of intimacy.

For once, Poe didn’t tease, but gently asked; “You have never...?”

Hux refused to look up, staring hard at the patterned rug beneath his feet as if it might swallow him whole if he concentrated hard enough. “I have never—” he paused, mouth pressed into a thin line. His face flushed, pale skin mottled pink with embarrassment. “I’ve never done…any of it. And I did not expect—” he gestured around the room with a sharp jerk of his chin “—for this debased carnival to be my introduction.” Poe didn’t miss the sharp edge of shame in Hux’s voice.

“Oh, stars,” Poe said, “Hux, buddy, I’m sorry.”

“Do not,” Hux hissed, jerking at the chain like he wanted to pull away. “I will not be pitied for this.”

Poe immediately raised his free hand, palm open in surrender. “Hey. Hey, I’m not pitying you.” He softened his tone, leaning in closer, careful, like approaching a flighty fathier. “It just surprised me, is all. You’re...you. You’ve got half the galaxy terrified of you, and—”

“And yet,” Hux cut in bitterly, “I’ve never been touched. Never allowed myself to be. Do you understand how pathetic that is, Dameron? That this—” He gestured sharply at the silks, the cuffs, the obscene opulence of the room. “—might be how I lose the last scrap of control I have? Forced into it, paraded like merchandise, made a spectacle. Torture and imprisonment I could survive—I have survived—but this? It’s intolerable.”

His voice cracked on the last word, just faintly. He tried to cover it with a huff, but Poe heard it anyway. Poe sat up then shifted closer, closing the space between them until their shoulders brushed. Hux went rigid but didn’t pull away.

“Hey,” Poe said gently, “no one’s taking that from you. Not while I’m here. You hear me?”

Hux scoffed, but it was weak, his throat tight. “What are you going to do, Dameron? Sweet-talk our captors into respecting boundaries? You can’t charm the sort of person who thinks buying living sex toys is acceptable.”

“No,” Poe said, voice steady, “but I can stand between you and them. I can make sure that if anyone tries anything, they get me first.”

Hux’s eyes went wide in shock and he stared at Poe as if he had just announced Hux was now king of the galaxy. “Why? Why would you...protect me, of all people?”

“Because no one deserves to be hurt like this,” Poe said simply, “and we’re in this together now. A team. Partners. And I don’t let my buddies get hurt if I can do anything to help it.”

“You are a stupid, self-sacrificing, noble idiot,” Hux muttered, but voice trembled. “And reckless. And unbearably sentimental.” A pause. Hux swallowed. “But…your words are not entirely unwelcome.”

Poe smiled faintly, leaning back against the pillows again but keeping their shoulders pressed together. “I’ll take it. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“We were on opposite sides of a war you know,” Hux said, tone dry as Jakku.

“We still are on opposite sides, technically.”

Hux sighed and twisted the hem of his robe between his fingers. “Technically. Though it seems...rather meaningless at this moment.”

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the faint hum of the ship’s engines somewhere far below them.

Unable to keep quiet for long and endlessly curious, Poe asked; “How did you end up here anyway?”

“Supreme Leader Ren,” Hux began, words practically dripping with derision, “sent me to oversee a trade negotiation with an outer rim world. He enjoys belittling me by assigning menial tasks a droid could undertake. And I can hardly refuse—not if I want to remain able to breathe,” Hux said with a roll of his eyes. “The slavers were waiting for my shuttle when I dropped out of hyperspace. My crew fought back, but we never had a chance. And it was all rather convenient. The crew was killed when they boarded us and I was dragged off by the slavers.”

“A set up?” Poe asked. “By who?”

“I have a long list of enemies, Dameron,” he paused, “But it was likely Kylo Ren himself.”

“Your boss sent you to be...sold as a sex slave? With friends like that—”

“Kylo Ren is not and never has been my friend,” Hux snapped, “and my world is rather more cutthroat than yours, Dameron.”

Poe raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t imagine living like that, with your so-called allies waiting to plunge a dagger in your back. After a moment Poe said; “So a rescue from your buddies is definitely off the table, huh?”

Hux gave a terse nod.

“Well, when my friends arrive, you should come with us.”

Hux turned his head to fix Poe with a disbelieving look. “I should what?”

“Come with us,” Poe reiterated, “defect. The Order kriffed you over. Get ‘em back. Tell us how to beat them.”

Hux frowned and stared at where his fingers were still twined in the hem of his tunic. “To what end? A cell? Torture? Execution?”

Stars, is that really what he thought would happen? Torture and a swift death?

“We don’t do that. Not in the Resistance,” Poe said, firm but not unkind. “You might not believe this, but we’re good people.”

Hux’s pale green eyes lifted to meet Poe’s. “You’d be surprised what good people will do under pressure. To win. Even angels fall, Dameron.”

“Not us,” Poe pressed on, “we have lines we don’t cross. Torture is one of them.”

“And what, you think I’d be welcomed with open arms on your say so? Allowed into the fold?”

“Maybe not, but you’d be alive,” Poe said, “which is more than can be said if you go back to the Order.”

And tellingly, Hux didn’t disagree.

Time stretched, heavy and unwieldy. Poe had never been good at waiting at the best of times, nevermind under such unpleasant circumstances. Hux was quiet and still, the clenching and unclenching of one hand and the odd nervous glance towards the door when someone passed the only tells to his anxiety. Poe, however, paced the room—or the five steps their chain would allow before he had to turn and go back the other way—radiating nervous energy.

“Will you be still for once?” Hux snapped eventually, “you’re driving me to insanity.”

“Rude,” Poe replied, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve already driven that well-beaten road a few times.”

Hux opened his mouth to snap something back, but was silenced by the door opening. Poe quickly sat back beside Hux and the other man actually leaned into Poe’s space, shoulder to shoulder; a united front, a good show for whoever was about to enter. Hux was sticking to the plan.

First came two guards, mercs by the look of their hotchpotch armour and cheap blasters. Then their owner, the man who had probably paid an obscene amount of credits to own flesh and purchase pleasure.

He was pretty much what Poe had imagined; a human, bloated with wealth and smug in a way that made Poe want to sock him right in his too-white teeth. Embroidered silks hung about his poised frame as if he’d tried to cover the rot of his personality with the distraction of lavish decoration. He was trussed up in the robes of some sort of diplomat or official; Poe vaguely recognised the pattern of the embroidery from some mid-rim world that had grown fat on the war economy. The man’s eyes swept over them like they were cuts of meat at a market, lingering in ways that made Poe’s skin crawl. He could feel the outrage—and humiliation—radiating of Hux’s tense frame.

“Well, well,” the man drawled, his tone amused, thin lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “A matched set. Worth every credit. The Resistance’s famous flyboy and the First Order’s general. The collectors of the galaxy will envy me.”

Poe felt Hux stiffen beside him, rigid as durasteel. His pale throat worked with the effort of keeping his composure, but Poe felt the tremor in the chain between them, the telltale quiver of a man at the end of his rope.

“My name is Orldash Bevesh, but you may call me sir,” their new owner said and flicked a jeweled hand toward the bed. “Let’s see what I’ve paid for. Together. Put on a show.”

Poe raised his eyebrows. “And what if we refuse?”

The smile that spread across Bevesh’s face suggested he’d expected this response—perhaps even wanted it. He didn’t bother to answer, but merely gestured to one of the guards who stepped forward, pulled a shock prod from his belt, and slammed it against Poe’s ribs.

Pain like lightning tore through him. Poe’s whole body seized, but worse, Hux convulsed too, the current arcing straight through their chain. Hux let out a strangled cry, his thin body arching violently as he bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

When the current cut out, they both collapsed to their knees, gasping. Poe’s hand found Hux’s wrist and closed around it. The thin trickle of blood at the corner of Hux’s mouth made Poe unbearably angry; he wanted to shove that prod up Bevesh’s ass and then see if he was still smiling that smug smile. Hux used one corner of his robe to wipe the smear of blood away.

“Okay,” Poe rasped, “gotta say, this is a weird sort of foreplay. Not exactly the kind of thing that puts a guy in the mood.”

Bevesh laughed, low and ugly. “Mood is irrelevant. Your will is equally irrelevant. You’ll learn to obey. But until you do, I can make you eager.”

He clicked his fingers and another guard stepped forward with an injector. Before Poe could protest, the needle punched into his neck, hot liquid burning its way through his veins like fire. Hux tried to twist away from the guard but to no avail; the injector hissed as it touched the bare skin of his neck and Hux jerked back as if bitten.

The effects hit Poe fast, sending his heartbeat into a rapid staccato. His skin prickled, the meagre weight of his robe now unbearably hot and irritating against his over-sensitive skin. Heat began to coil low and leaden in his belly—and lower still, his prick stirring against his will. Poe’s vision blurred under the chemical haze of whatever drug had just been administered, the world taking on an ethereal shimmering edge, like oil on the surface of water. He glanced at Hux; his pupils were blown wide and a pretty pink blush painted the tops of his cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose. He trembled, not just from fear now, but from the drug’s invasive fire coursing through his body.

“There we are,” Bevesh purred, settling into a low velvet chair. “Now. Kiss. Touch. Make it worth my credits.”

Poe swallowed hard, then turned to Hux, keeping his voice steady despite the rising heat in his blood. “It’s alright. It’s me. Just me.”

Hux shook visibly as Poe gathered him close, his frame stiff as durasteel at first. But when Poe pressed their lips together—slow, soft, nothing like the performance from before—Hux let him. His hands clutched at Poe’s shoulders, desperate for an anchor, fingers twisting into the fabric of Poe’s robe.

“Good,” Bevesh crooned. “More.”

Poe bristled at the praise, indignant, but not even his revulsion for the bastard who was forcing them into this could quell the heat building in him. If anything, it sharpened as the drug took more control over his senses. Coherent thought was becoming difficult, like dredging for a lost credit in a thick mire of desire. Poe brushed his thumb along Hux’s jaw and whispered into his ear, “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Hux shivered, his lips parting under Poe’s as Poe kissed him again, pliant now, though every line of him quivered. Poe dipped his tongue into Hux’s mouth and was rewarded with a moan and the press of Hux’s tongue coming to meet it.

Bevesh shifted, leaning forward eagerly. “Enough kissing. I paid for more than that. On the bed. I want to watch you rut like the animals you are.”

Poe’s gut twisted, but he kept his voice soft, kept the panic tamped down, just for Hux. “Hey. Look at me.” He waited until Hux’s eyes met his. “I won’t hurt you. Not ever. I promise. Trust me.”

Hux’s pale eyes searched his face, looking for the lie, for the deception. For a moment, Poe thought he would refuse, collapse entirely under the weight of humiliation and fear. But then, against all odds, he softened.

“Maybe I’ve taken leave of my senses,” Hux breathed, voice quiet enough so only Poe could hear, “but I do trust you.”

Poe took both of Hux’s hands in his and helped him onto the ridiculously large and lavish bed. Poe had been in a lot of people’s beds over the years but nothing like this; usually it was just creaky military cots or bunks cut into bulkheads. This bed was extravagant, luxurious in a way that felt at odds with the acts that took place upon it. Poe wondered how many slaves before them had been bought and sold on this ship, and then forced to prove their worth on this bed? He tried not to think about what happened to those who couldn’t impress their buyers.

He was pretty sure there were no happy endings in those cases.

Gently, Poe laid Hux back against the opulent sheets and leaned over him. Hux went without resistance, his pale chest rising and falling too fast, a sheen of sweat sticking strands of copper hair to his forehead. Poe let his fingers trail down the line of Hux’s throat, over the fragile jut of his collarbone and down to the whisper-thin fabric stretched over his chest. The robe was already half undone, slipping down his bony shoulder, so Poe tugged gently and the silk fell away, baring the pale, scarred skin of his chest and stomach to the warm air. Hux made a noise—half protest, half need—but didn’t pull away.

“Pretend it’s just us,” Poe murmured. “No one else matters. Just me and you.”

His hand slid lower, brushing over the almost concave plane of Hux’s stomach until he reached the thin scrap of fabric covering his modesty. The outline of Hux’s hard cock was unmistakable, as was the telltale shiny wet patch right over the head.

Hux turned his face into the pillows, mortified, but Poe caught his chin and gently turned him to look back. “It’s okay,” Poe whispered, “nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

Poe tugged the last of the fabric down and Hux gasped as his cock was released. The slender, pale shaft was long, flushed rosy pink at the tip and leaking already. The sight of it nearly undid Poe. His mouth watered, the drug intensifying every flicker of arousal until he was dizzy with want.

“Stars, you’re beautiful,” Poe said before he could stop himself.

Hux grimaced as if the very idea offended him. “You need not lie,” Hux said, “flattery is unnecessary.”

“I’m not lying,” Poe said and leaned in to kiss along Hux’s jaw then down his neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

“It’s—ah—” Hux broke off to gasp when Poe’s lips found his nipple and teased it with his tongue “—it’s the drugs talking.” His hands hovered over Poe’s shoulders as if he couldn’t decide if he should touch or not.

“Nah,” Poe said, “thought it back in the cage. Now I’m just saying it.” He kissed lower, tongue dipping into Hux’s navel, then lower still so his breath ghosted over Hux’s prick.

Hux opened his mouth to argue again so Poe closed his mouth over Hux’s length. Hux let out a surprised, strangled sound and his whole body jolted; Poe had to hold his hips against the bed to stop him bucking involuntarily into Poe’s mouth.

“Dameron!” Hux exclaimed, one hand squeezing Poe’s shoulder so tightly it almost hurt. “Oh—oh stars!”

Poe took that as approval and so hummed low around him, working with slow, steady strokes, sucking him so deep the head of prick bumped the back of Poe’s throat. The taste of Hux was as intoxicating as the drug they’d been given; sharp and salty. Poe’s cock twitched where it hung heavy and flushed between his thighs.

Hux’s head tipped back against the pillows with a breathy moan, his other hand fisting the bedding until his knuckles went white. His chest heaved, sweat beading along his sternum, his body vibrating with tension. Poe reached blindly for the bedside table, knocking fruit aside so he could snag one of the small glass vials of oil. He popped the stopper with one hand then poured a little over his fingers, warming it before pressing them lower and nudging Hux’s thighs apart.

The reaction was immediate: Hux stiffened, panic flashing across his face. Poe stilled, his slick fingers resting against the tight ring of muscle but not pressing forward. Poe pulled wetly off Hux’s cock so he could try and soothe him.

“Hey,” Poe said, kissing the inside of his thigh, “look at me. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ll go slow.”

For a moment, Hux said nothing. He took several deep breaths as if steadying himself and his expression settled into something that was more determination than fear.

“Do it,” Hux said finally. It wasn’t exactly romantic but then nothing about this situation was.

“Sure?”

Hux managed a glare even now. “We don’t have a choice. And...better you than someone else.”

“That was almost a compliment,” Poe smirked and then eased a finger inside. Hux tensed and winced, so Poe took his leaking length back into his mouth; the distraction worked and Hux moaned again, body twitching as Poe worked him open with his fingers and worked his prick with his mouth. Multitasking! Poe thought, oddly triumphant. He felt drunk and concussed and aroused all at once.

And when Poe crooked his fingers just right, Hux arched off the bed with a sharp gasp and came, one hand tugging roughly at Poe’s hair, his release spilling into Poe’s mouth. Poe swallowed gamely despite the lack of warning, and continued to lick and suck Hux through his orgasm.

“Poe,” Hux gasped, “stars above, oh gods.” His chest heaved with the aftermath of his release and his expression had melted into a dazed sort of wonder. “I never knew it could be like that.”

Poe wiped his mouth on the expensive bedding and then kissed Hux deeply, letting him taste his release on Poe’s tongue. Hux’s hands cupped Poe’s face, holding him in place so he could kiss back thoroughly.

“Apparently us Resistance scum are good at some things,” Poe teased and Hux huffed out a sound that might have almost been a laugh.

The moment was interrupted by Bevesh, who said; “How romantic. Star-crossed lovers now, are we?” Poe had been so caught up in Hux’s pleasure, his cognition so dulled by the drug, he’d actually forgotten the man was watching them. Hux visibly shrank back as if he could vanish into the pillows and away from Bevesh’s prying gaze. “Now for the final act.”

Poe said; “You’re killing my boner here, Bevesh,” which was a lie. The drug they’d been given made sure that was impossible. Poe turned his attention back to Hux, who was now gazing up at him, cheeks still flushed pink.

“It’s alright, Dameron,” Hux said, “it’s okay.”

Poe would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to. His body ached for release, his prick actually hurt it was so hard, and Hux looked utterly debauched and beautiful. Poe couldn’t take it anymore; he divested himself of his flimsy tunic then he grabbed more of the oil and slicked himself quickly, hissing as the cool oil met overheated skin. He gently lifted one of Hux’s long, slender legs and draped it over his shoulder then lined himself up. As the head of his cock nudged against Hux’s entrance, his gaze flicked back up to Hux’s face; he was watching intently now, lips parted, breath shuddering out of him. But he didn’t look afraid anymore.

“Trust me,” Poe said again, trying to keep his voice level even with his own body aching for release. “I’ve got you.”

Then he pushed forward, slowly, carefully, inching Hux. He was so incredibly tight and hot that Poe had to count his breaths in and out so as to keep from just snapping his hips forwards and sinking all the way in. Hux gasped, hands grasping desperately at Poe’s arms, his whole body shuddering under the intrusion. Poe groaned, overwhelmed, every nerve alight.

“Stars—you feel—” He cut himself off with a moan, pressing his forehead to Hux’s. “So tight, so good.”

Hux whimpered and Poe held still, letting his body adjust and stretch to accommodate Poe’s prick. Poe leaned in and kissed his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He didn’t want to hurt Hux and he’d promised he wouldn’t. Drugged to the nines or not, Poe was a man of his word.

And then, when Hux finally shifted beneath him—his body opening—Poe began to move. He forced himself to keep the pace slow, the thrusts shallow. Each push drew gasps from Hux, harried at first, but soon they melted into something shot through with pleasure.

When Poe noticed Hux’s prick stirring again, his hips tilting up and one leg hooking around his waist to draw him deeper, Poe let go. He pushed in harder, faster, pulling almost all the way out before driving his length back in with the lewd sound of slick skin hitting skin.

Hux’s hands were everywhere now, grasping hard at Poe’s arms and shoulders. “Yes,” Hux said, urging him on, “yes Dameron, like that.”

And that did it. Poe couldn’t hold back anymore if he tried. He lost himself in desire, in the slide of their bodies, in the frantic press of hands and mouths. Hux was hard again, his cock lying up against his stomach, smearing wetness against it.

“Touch yourself for me,” Poe said between thrusts, voice wrecked with want, and was surprised when Hux obeyed as if it had been an order. He took his prick in one hand and pumped it roughly, fist rolling over the head and smearing precum over himself. “Yeah,” Poe moaned, “yeah, do it for me. Let me see you.”

Hux was gone too, utterly lost in a haze of drug-heightened need. He stroked his prick in time with Poe’s thrusts and let out soft whines of pleasure, head lolling back, eyes screwed shut as if it was all too much.

“Look at me,” Poe said, unsure why it mattered so, but it did. His orgasm was bearing down on him and he wanted those pretty eyes on him as he came. “Look at me, baby.”

With some effort, Hux’s lashes fluttered open and their eyes met, deep brown on pale green, and that was all it took. Poe’s body pulled taut, every muscle tensing to near-pain, before his release rushed out of him at lightspeed and he spilled deep inside Hux. Hux made a strangled noise that was half Poe’s name and half a cry of pleasure, then came too with a frantic jerk of his prick, his seed painting lines across Poe’s stomach. Poe lowered Hux’s leg and then collapsed against him, his whole body singing with pleasure. And Hux clung to him, both arms around him, warm hands splayed on Poe’s lower back.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their gradually slowing breaths. But then Poe became aware of another sound; the lewd slap of skin on skin. He turned his head to look and wished he hadn’t when he was met with the sight of Bevesh jerking off, one hand working fast beneath his robe.

Hux’s hand came up to hold Poe’s chin and he gently turned Poe’s face back to look at him.

“Dameron. Poe. Look at me. Not him. Pretend it’s just us, remember?” he said, his voice softer than Poe had ever heard and a far cry from the ranting megalomaniac of the First Order’s holo-propaganda. “He is irrelevant.”

Something warm and soft unfurled in Poe’s chest; affection. “And kinda ugly,” Poe quipped and Hux’s mouth curled into the hint of a smile.

Bevesh finished with a grunt and a rustle of his robes. After a moment he said; “Very well done.” Poe’s stomach roiled at the praise, revolted. Bevesh stood and straightened himself, regarding them with a leer. “I am eager to show my friends my wonderful purchase. Perhaps if they are lucky I may allow them a taste.”

Poe tensed. They had to get the hell out of here before that happened. He didn’t think he could stand that—being shared around Bevesh’s buddies like an appliance—and he was certain Hux couldn’t.

“But for now you’ve earned your rest. We depart on my yacht in the morning.” Bevesh left, guards trailing after him, and finally Hux and Poe were alone again.

“Are you okay?” Poe said, pushing Hux’s hair back off his sweaty brow.

Hux nodded. “As well as one can be under such circumstances.” He paused for a moment, eyes flicking away. “You didn’t hurt me. I am grateful.”

“I promised I wouldn’t.”

“I have learned not to trust promises,” Hux replied, “but perhaps I shall learn to trust yours.”

Before Poe could fully appreciate the importance of that sentence, the door opened again and a twi’lek woman in pale silks swished in carrying a stack of clothing and tray of food. She regarded the men with a look of sympathy as she laid the clothes and food at the foot of the bed. A shock collar was fixed around her neck; a slave too, in another way.

Poe said; “Hey, thanks,” but she simply shook her head and left as quickly as she had come.

Poe sat up then, sticky and still naked, and offered Hux a hand. He took it without hesitation and allowed Poe to ease him up to sitting too. Poe reached for the pitcher of water on the bedside table and wetted the corner of one of the many blankets, then used it to wipe the mess from Hux’s belly and between his thighs.

Hux’s eyes went wide and he flinched. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Poe interjected, “but let me anyway.”

Hux nodded, his brows drawn together in confusion, as if he didn’t understand the concept of someone taking care of him. Poe cleaned himself off too then kicked the spoiled blanket to the floor.

Hux remained silent so Poe said; “Let’s see what the Twi’lek bought us,” and rummaged through the clothes to find two sets of soft, more practical garb in muted green tones. Still skimpy, but these tunics would at least cover their modesty. Poe pulled one on—it was a little tight over his shoulders and a little long—and gave Hux the other. He slipped it on too and it buried his narrow frame.

Poe smirked until Hux snapped; “What?”

“Nothin’. You just look like a kid in his mom’s dress,” Poe teased and expected a sharp retort. But Hux’s mouth twisted into something like amusement.

“Well, you look like ten kilos of refuse in a five kilo bag.”

Poe barked a laugh so loud that Hux actually started.

“Was that a joke? Do you joke now?” Poe said. “Wait, was all you needed to relax a damn good—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Hux warned. Poe struggled with a grin but decided not to push his luck.

“The food looks good,” Poe said instead, pulling the tray closer. There were cuts of cooked meat, fresh bread, slices of cheese and an assortment of neatly sliced salad and fruit.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Hux asked, regarding it with suspicion.

Poe popped a piece of meat into his mouth. “If they wanted to drug us, they wouldn’t bother to do it secretly.”

“That’s true,” Hux said. Poe could see the moment his restraint failed and he took a piece of bread and a slice of cheese. “I haven’t had anything that isn’t a ration block for so long that I’ve forgotten what actual food tastes like.”

“Well, consider that the silver lining,” Poe quipped, “we might be sex slaves but at least we’re eating good.”

Hux rolled his eyes but Poe caught the hint of amusement in his expression.

After they’d eaten their fill, Poe found exhaustion pulling at him like many insistent hands. Hux had already retreated into quiet, lying back against the pillows, hands folded primly over his stomach. But he wasn’t asleep; he was staring up at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. Poe carefully lowered himself down to lie on his side beside Hux, propped up on one elbow.

“Doin’ okay?” Poe said.

Hux sighed. “I think the drugs are wearing off. I feel...tired, mainly.”

Poe could tell he was holding something back. “Tired and...?”

Hux turned his head to look at Poe. “Violated,” he said simply and Poe’s stomach dropped, heavy as a neuranium ball.

“Oh stars, Hux, I’m sorry,” Poe whispered, reaching for Hux’s hand. Hux let him curls his fingers around it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hux replied, “it was Bevesh’s. And if we get out of this, I’ll kill him for it.”

“And I won’t stop you.”

Hux’s fingers squeezed Poe’s. “We have to...find a way out of here. I do not think I could bear Bevesh’s friends being allowed to...rape us.”

Us. Not just him. Hux was truly thinking of them as a team now. The lights flickered then lowered to a low glow; apparently even their bedtime was controlled by someone else now.

“I’m not exactly looking forwards to that either,” Poe said, “But I’m too...exhausted to try and plan anything now.” And it was true; the drugs were indeed wearing off and leaving a bone-deep tiredness in their place.

“We should rest,” Hux said, “preserve our strength. Then tomorrow, perhaps an opportunity will present itself when we are moved to Bevesh’s yacht.”

Poe nodded. He opened his mouth to answer but only a heavy yawn escaped, so he laid his head on the pillow. Beside him, Hux closed his eyes.

“I am sorry though,” Poe whispered in the darkness, “Not for making love to you, but for the circumstances.”

Hux didn’t reply, but he didn’t let go of Poe’s hand either.

Poe must have fallen asleep, because he was now jerking awake to a ruckus in the corridor outside their room. Hux was already sitting up, ginger brows pulled into a frown.

“What’s happening?” Poe said.

“Blaster fire, I think,” Hux replied.

A muffled scream sounded from somewhere outside the room and Poe scrambled to his feet, pulling Hux with him via the chain that still joined their wrists. Then the fizz-whoosh of blaster fire, the whump of bolts hitting a bulkhead, the sound of running footsteps against carpeted floors painted a picture of the chaos unfolding outside their room.

Poe shoved Hux behind him, arm outstretched to protect him and said; “Stay back, let me—”

“We are chained together, if you get your impulsive backside shot, we both die!” Hux snapped, voice strained.

“Maybe it’s just a dispute between buyers. Or someone didn’t pay up. Maybe they won’t even come in here.”

“Or maybe we’re about to die.”

Poe shot Hux a look; his face was pale, hair dishevelled, eyes wide and wild in the low light of their room. Impulsive as ever—and faced with their possible imminent death, chained and unarmed as they were—Poe leaned in and stole a quick, passionate kiss. Hux made a surprised sort of ‘mmmph’ noise but kissed Poe right back, lips cool, tongue warm.

Then, the door opened. The galaxy paused for a moment as their fate hung upon a knife edge.

And Poe had never been so relieved to see the unmistakable blue-glow of a lightsaber.

Rey stepped in, cautious, saber raised, peering into the gloom. Behind her came the familiar silhouette of Finn, blaster grasped in both hands.

“Poe?!” Rey exclaimed, her eyes landing on him, and Finn pushed past her shoulder.

“Rey! Finn! Don’t shoot!” Poe said, hands up, chain jangling, “You came!” Hux edged closer, using Poe’s body as cover. He was, understandably, wary.

Rey smiled, snapping her saber off, and Finn’s face broke into a relieved grin.

“You’re alive!” Finn said, relief washing over his features. He closed the gap between them, arms open and ready to embrace Poe.

And that’s when he spotted Hux.

Finn stopped a foot short of Poe and raised his blaster again. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Who do you think it is?” Rey said, joining Finn.

Hux stepped out from behind Poe. “It is,” Hux said, chin tipped up in defiance.

Rey’s eyes went comically large. Finn was less amused.

“Kriff me,” Finn said to Poe, “of all the people in the galaxy to be chained to, you ended up with General Hux?!”

Poe shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

“This was hardly my first choice either,” Hux said, hands clasped tightly behind his back, posture back to being military-straight.

Poe could sense the tension rising so he said; “Finn, Rey, get this chain off us, yeah?”

Rey nodded and ignited her saber again. Hux flinched when she came close, the blade buzzing.

“Relax,” Rey said, “I’m only going to cut the chain.”

“Pity,” Finn muttered and Poe shot him a look he hoped said ‘please don’t’.

Rey’s lightsaber made short work of the chain, though the binders themselves would need more delicate tools. Untethered from Poe, Hux still stayed close, eyes flicking nervously between Rey and Finn as if he expected one or the other to summarily execute him.

“Gimme a sitrep,” Poe said.

“We’ve taken the ship,” Finn reported, “Chewie’s flying, Snap and Jess are releasing the slaves. The slavers and the buyers are currently in their own cells. The ones who surrendered, at any rate.”

Poe slapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “Good work buddy. I knew you’d come.”

“Always,” Finn said. Then his gaze slid to Hux again, who was still and silent. “What do we do with him?”

“He comes with us,” Poe said, his tone brokering no argument.

Finn argued against it anyway. “You can’t be serious. He’s Hux.”

“Oh, I’m aware who he is,” Poe said. “But he’s not with the Order anymore, are you?”

“That’s not strictly true,” Hux began, but seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say next and pressed his lips into a tight line instead.

“And that makes the rest of it okay?” Finn said, incredulous. “Poe, he destroyed the Hosnian System!”

“Technically the First Order did, I just...pressed the button,” Hux said.

“Not helping!” Poe replied.

Rey held up a hand. “Poe, if you want to bring him, then we bring him. We trust your judgement.”

Finn made a frustrated noise and threw his hands up. “I trust him to think with his heart not his head,” he said. Then, in an undertone; “And with his dick.”

“Hey!” Poe complained, though it wasn’t an entirely unfair criticism.

“Do I not have a say in this?” Hux snapped, glaring at all three of them as if they were naughty children in need of corralling.

“No,” Poe, Finn and Rey all replied in unison.

Hux huffed dramatically and clenched his jaw so tight his teeth squeaked.

Poe turned to Hux, their eyes meeting in the half-light of the room. “Do you really want to go back to Ren? He sent you here to be sold, or to die. He betrayed you. You have to realise you won’t be safe there.”

“I’ve never been safe there,” Hux admitted and the weight of it hit Poe square in the chest. Perhaps Hux was as much a victim of the Order as Finn had been. Perhaps there was more to this man than Poe had ever imagined. Perhaps he would surprise them all.

Perhaps not, but Poe wanted to find out.

“Come with us,” Poe said, “and be safe. With me.”

Poe held out his hand.

And after a long moment, Hux took it.