General Hux and you hated each other ever since you met during a conference with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. You're surprised to see how agitated Hux gets when he witnesses Ren flirting with you.

- - -

Three months ago

The moment your boots hit the ground, officers start talking to you. You're barely made it two steps towards central command of Starkiller Base before you're bombarded with questions.

"How many Troopers should we send?"

"Do you want us to inform Captain Phasma?"

"What would you like to eat for dinner?"

"The Supreme Leader asked you to join him for the debriefing, should I escort you?"

Navigating through the chaos of the main hangar, you try to stay cool and sign electronic files on the data pads shoved in your face with orders for new equipment or transfer requests while answering one question after the other.

The throng following you slowly thins out as you exit the hangar and stride down the big hallway that leads towards the main conference room.

You're tired from the mission you just completed. You're also injured. So far, however, no one noticed. It takes some effort to walk straight when you're head buzzes, and the artificial light hurts your eyes. But you stubbornly hold your head up high and your hands behind your back, not moving a muscle of your face that would give away in how much pain you actually are.

Finally, the last officer let you be and you're all alone, standing in front of the large, black, glossy door you know Ren is waiting behind. You run your fingers through your hair to make it look somewhat in order. Then you attempt to straighten out your uniform. Attempt being the key word here. At last, you give up and just open the door to get this over with.

You're surprised to find not only the Supreme Leader at the table, but also a red-headed man with an impeccable posture and the most thoroughly straightened uniform you've ever seen. It makes your attempt at looking put together absolutely useless. Even if you would have come here right from the refresher, dressed by a droid, you would probably look like a troglodyte, nevertheless, compared to him.

A quick glance at his badges tells you that he's a General. Weird that you've never seen him before. He must be from a completely different department.

"Lieutenant." Ren greets you. His mask sits on the table, his arm resting on it nonchalantly. He's leaning back in his chair, his large frame causing the chair to look like a miniature model.

"Supreme Leader." You give him a nod. "And you are…?" Extending your hand towards him, you wait for the stern looking man to introduce himself.

"Hux." He replies briskly, ignoring your hand, just staring at your face. "General Hux."

Wow. You don't know if it's the pain radiating form the blaster wound in your side or his dismissive gesture, but your pulse picks up and you clench your jaw.

"Sit." Ren orders, gesturing towards the chairs opposite of him. Hux complies instantly. You, however, could cry just at the thought of having to sit down.

"I would prefer to keep standing, Sir."

Hux lets out a huff at your reply. You shoot daggers at him. He smugly stares back at you, not even blinking.

Ren's eyes dart to your side. You've been hiding the growing red blotch with your arm, but it apparently got too big for your elbow to cover it.

"You're bleeding." The Supreme Leader states.

"I am aware." You reply dryly, earning a surprised look by Hux, his eyes widening. The expression leaves his face as quickly as it came, but you saw it.

"What happened?" Ren asks.

"I got shot, Sir."

Now Hux looks seriously bewildered.

"You should visit medical bay." Ren advices.

"I will, Sir. But I'd like to debrief you first."

Before Ren can say anything, Hux chimes in: "That doesn't sound like a wise decision to me."

"Clear your ears then." You snap at him, annoyed that he interfered.

Ren's gaze darts between the two of you, slight amusement in his eyes.

"Ah, I forgot to introduce you." He changes the subject, apparently fine with your decision to stay. "General Hux, head of the advanced Storm Trooper program."

"That's why I never heard of you." You comment.

Whoops. That sounded more belittling than you meant it to. You merely wanted to express how it makes sense that you never met before. But it's too late now. Hux already looks like he's ready to throw hands.

Ren interrupts once again by saying your name and telling Hux: "She's our leading strategist."

"Tell me, Lieutenant, what strategy earned you that wound?" He points at your side and you're seriously considering slapping him across his stupid, marble face.

Instead, you spit back: "Oh, stuff like that happens when you're in the actual military, not just hiding behind a desk."

You obviously struck a never there, because Hux springs to his feet and points his finger at you, shouting: "Watch your mouth, Lieutenant."

You roll your eyes at his attempt to play the ranking card.

"Are you done?" Ren asks calmly.

Nostrils flaring, you stare back at Hux until he breaks the eye contact to turn to Ren and sit down.

After clearing your throat, you depict what happened today. Hux stays surprisingly quiet. At some point, you have to start to apply pressure to your wound, flinching at the pain that causes. Nevertheless, you go on, feeling your hand getting covered in blood.

You only talk to Ren, but out the corner of your eye, you see how Hux observes you. He doesn't just listen to you, he seems to devour every word you say. Eventually, you cannot help yourself but to look at him for a brief moment. His lips are parted, his body is fully turned and open to you. It irritates you how his body language completely contradicts his attitude towards you. It irritates you so much, that you forget what you were saying and have to start the sentence over.

For the rest of your talk, you actively avoid even glancing in Hux' direction.

When you're finished, Ren gives you a nod: "Everything else can wait until tomorrow." His eyes dart to your hand desperately clasping your side and back to your face. Then he adds: "And go to medical bay. Now."

"Yes, Sir." You reply and turn on your heels, not wasting another second to even acknowledge Hux.

Two months and twenty-nine days ago

"I'm okay." You try to convince the doctor.

She shakes her head no: "You will have to rest at least another day, or you'll risk the wound re-opening. You already lost a lot of blood."

Sighing, you sit back down on the hospital bed. You wince at the pain it that causes, proving the doctor's point.

"Fine." You surrender.

Visibly relieved, she gets several syringes and explains: "That one is for the pain, this one is to avoid infection, and the last one is to speed up the healing process."

You groan at the thought of being pricked three times. Again. Reluctantly, you push up the sleeve of your hospital gown and hold out your arm.

After injecting the first two, the doctor declares: "I'll have to place that one right next to the wound."

Pressing your lips together to not make any noise, you get up and lift the gown. When she's done, you ask: "Can I change the bandage by myself? I need to get used to it anyways."

Thankfully, she agrees and hands you the materials. After disinfecting your hands, you lift your gown once again, keeping it up by holding the fabric with your teeth.

Luckily, the meds numbed the pain, and you can take off the old bandage with steady hands. It's uncomfortable nonetheless and you have to take breaks to inhale deeply through your nose. The visual of the blaster wound is even more uncomfortable. It's crimson, almost black, in the middle where it was cauterized, the skin around it slightly swollen and hot to the touch. You let out a muffled yelp as you clean the wound, biting down hard on the bunched-up fabric in your mouth. It sucks up all the saliva, and makes your tongue feel dry.

Finally, you can carry on to carefully dab healing cream on and then cover it with a new bandage.

As you turn around to grab the gauze, you are stunned to find a visibly embarrassed General Hux entering med bay. For some reason, he decided to walk into your room instead of calling for the doctor.

Frozen in place, hands hanging in the air, you stare at him.

His cheeks flush in mere seconds and he blinks rapidly, possibly to regain control over his equally motionless body. His eyes dart to your naked legs, to your wound, and back up to your face. You notice that he's not breathing. And that his hands are balled to fists.

Actually, his entire body looks tensed up. Like he's about to explode out of his perfectly styled uniform. How does he make it look that flawless?

Opening your mouth, you let the fabric fall down. It covers the lower half of your body that was just exposed. With the skin disappearing from his sight, Hux regains somewhat of a composure. Still not saying anything. He only straightens his back and rolls his shoulder, forcing his hands open to rub the palms against his thighs.

"Can I help you?" You eventually break the silence, cutting through the heavy air, buzzing with tension.

"I-" His mouth opens and closes a few times. "Excuse me." He finally mumbles and basically runs out the room.

Today

You thank the stars every time a meeting goes by without Hux participating. It's infuriating to even be in the same room as him. Whenever possible – or rather necessary – you ignore his presence ostentatiously. You know it annoys him. You can feel the anger radiating off him when you talk as if he weren't there.

On days you're feeling especially feisty, you purposefully sit opposite of him, extending your legs under the table until you kick his shins. Whenever you do this, his head snaps around towards you, but you don't even look at him. You usually keep your eyes on the datapad before you, your lips forming into a grin.

Hux often tries to retaliate by interrupting you when you speak up, but as described, you keep talking, absolutely unfazed as if he weren't there.

Ren often notices the little battle going on between you and Hux. But he doesn't stop you. On the contrary, it sometimes seems like he's encouraging you to annoy Hux. Possibly because he hates him almost as much as you do.

A few days ago, he got up right at the end of the meeting and poured to glasses of golden liquid that turned out to be the most exquisite alcohol you ever tasted. While everyone got up from their chairs, he slid one of the glasses across the table towards you.

Surprised, you took it, questioningly looking at Ren. He just raised his glass for a toast, so you did the same. Hux, who witnessed the silent exchange between you and Ren, clenched his jaw, and stared you down until you looked him right in the eyes to wink at him. After letting out a huff, he finally stalked out the room.

Today, the topics of the meeting don't really concern you, and you spend most of your time, swiping through the results of the tactical simulations every officer has to participate in.

You also sometimes send messages to Ren, commenting on a statement you deem stupid. At one particularly snarky comment you send him, he actually snickers under his breath.

After you were wounded on the mission, the two of you developed a somewhat surprising camaraderie. Amongst the higher ranked, well him being the highest ranked of all, personnel, you are the only ones permanently marked with battle scars. You bonded over that, becoming the closest to a friend either of you had for years.

"Would you bother letting us know what's so important that you are unable to listen, Lieutenant?" Hux addresses you out of the blue.

You look up at him, then at Ren, and back at Hux. Ren appears just as surprised by Hux' outburst as you. You did listen enough to know that you cannot contribute anything. So why would he snap at you?

Defiantly, you stare at him and reply calmly: "No." Then you look back down at the screen before you.

The room stays quiet for a moment, but you could swear you can hear Phasma as well as Ren chuckle.

"As I was saying," Ap'lek continues his mission report.

When it's finally over, you grab your datapad to return to work, but Ren stops you by calling your name across the room.

For some reason, it causes Hux to linger as well.

Ren walks over and leans down until his lips are next to your ear, and asks: "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

His dark voice is quite enchanting and before you can think about it, you find yourself giggling and agree.

"Great." Ren leans back up and puts his hand on your shoulder.

Raising your gaze, you notice how Hux is still observing at you; Even though he's talking to one of the Knights.

Turning your head, you look up at Ren and ask him: "When should I come over?"

A grin spreads on his face: "Eight p.m. sharp."

"Alright." You smile back.

After giving your shoulder another squeeze, he leaves, gesturing Phasma to follow him.

You're honestly just happy to have dinner with someone else. And joining Ren could be great fun. For now, however, you need to get back to central command.

When you walk past Hux to get to the door, he grabs you by the wrist.

Coming to an abrupt stop, you whip around to face him.

Seemingly surprised by the force of you pulling your arm back, Hux almost bumps into you, his eyes widening.

"Can I help you?" You inquire, eyes burning holes into him.

He has to blink a few times before he's able to reply: "I wanted to speak to you."

There aren't a lot of things you can think of right now you would like to avoid more than talking to Hux in private. With another tug, you rip your hand away from his grasp completely and put it up on your hip instead. Then you wait until the last person left the room to close the door loudly behind them. Standing between Hux and the door, you look at him expectantly. When he doesn't say anything, you roll your eyes and ask: "About what?"

Finally, he finds his voice. It's surprisingly quiet when he states: "Your unprofessional behavior."

"My what?"

"You heard me."

You huff and cross your arms: "I do not answer to you."

"Kylo Ren," he spits out the name, "might be your superior, but he's obviously just as childish as you are."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you are sending messages to each other during meetings."

"And what do you care? I do my job."

"Is that what you're doing? Your job?" He draws out the last syllable, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What are you implying?"

By now, you are standing right in front of each other, close enough to feel his breath on your face.

"I'm not implying anything." Hux makes quotation marks with his fingers in the air. "You are obviously engaging in a relationship of sexual nature."

His wording makes you laugh. Even when accusing you of having sex with the Supreme Leader, he has to be professional about it.

Tilting your head, you take your time to analyze his body language. His back is straightened but his hands aren't crossed behind his back as they usually are. Instead, they are hanging by his sides, index finger and thumb rubbing together.

His face is, matching his marble complexion, still as if it were carved from stone. You actually quite like his face. Whenever he's sporting his stern face, which is most of the time, his cheekbones are accentuated. The fact that you like how he looks is probably the only reason you haven't punched him in the face yet. Wouldn't want to ruin the only nice thing about him, you tell yourself.

The flaming red hair, even though he always wears it as tightly gelled and laid down as possible, has something wild about it. The color is a stark contrast to his demeanor. It's the only thing about him that makes him appear human whenever he's marching down hallways, shouting at officers.

And even though, right now, he visibly tries to control his facial expression, you notice how he purses his lips ever so slightly and how his cheeks are flushed in anger.

Your reaction, or the lack thereof, apparently makes Hux nervous, because he shifts his weight from one leg to the other.

"You think I'm fucking Kylo Ren?"

Hux flinches at your vulgar reply. It makes you smile. You click your tongue and go on provoking him: "Interesting how you pretended this is about my behavior at the job, when you're actually just interested in my sex-life."

"That is not what this is about!" He raises his voice but fails miserably to be convincing.

Raising your chin, you smugly smile at him and purr: "What is it then, Armitage?"

Faster than you can blink, his hands fly to your face, and he roughly pulls you against him. Then his lips crash onto yours. His kiss is hungry as it is furious.

You gasp in surprise. But you don't back away.

No, you don't want to. All the pent-up anger and frustration suddenly transforms into something else. Into an animalistic need, a lust, a longing to absolutely destroy Armitage. To ruin him.

You grab him by the neck and yank his head back. He lets out a choked noise. Something between a groan and a yelp.

His eyes are wide, and he appears just as surprised by what he did as you. Not less turned on though.

Your grasp around his neck tightening, you force him to walk backwards until his legs hit the conference table.

"What to you think you're doing?" You hiss.

"I- I-" He struggles to come up with an explanation or apology, so he just gives up. He doesn't even fight your touch.

Suddenly, you let go of him. Hux takes a deep breath, his chest heaving.

"Kneel." You order with a dark voice.

To your amusement, he doesn't even hesitate. It fills you with hot desire seeing him fall to his knees before you. His hands in his lap, he leans back on his heels, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

"That's better." You smile at him. "Now take off your jacket."

His hands fly to the buttons of his uniform, and he fumbles to get them open. You notice that the anxiety is about to outweigh his arousal. So, you lean down and open the top two buttons for him. It offers him enough reassurance to stop his hands from shaking.

When he's only wearing his black shirt, his jacket thrown aside, you kick off your boots and open your belt. Not once breaking the eye contact.

His hands twitch and his eyes dart between your pants and your face.

"Go on." You tell him and he immediately lifts his arms to open the button of your dress pants for you. Carefully, he pulls them down until you can step out of them. He inhales sharply at the visual of your naked legs. Leaning forwards, he gently grabs your calves and starts to run his hands up and down the back of them. When you don't stop him, he scoots a bit closer, until he's able to kiss your shins, and up to your lower thighs.

You hum appreciative at the sensation of his soft lips leaving a wet trail on your legs.

You run your fingers through his hair, purposefully disheveling it.

Making a fist in his hair, you yank his head up to make Armitage look at you.

"Tell me what you want." You order.

"I want to-" The rest of the sentence gets lost in his breathy mumbling.

"I can't hear you."

His jaw clenches. You wait patiently, not letting go of his hair.

"I want to fuck you." He finally blurts out.

You chuckle: "All you had to do was ask."

Hux' cheeks and neck are tinted almost crimson by now. The bright headlight of the conference room accentuating it. You let go of him and dim the lights, locking the door from the inside.

When you turn back, Hux is still in the same position you left him.

"Such a good boy." You praise, making him to shudder.

Then you get to your knees as well to be able to kiss him. Pulling him closer, you clasp his face with both hands. He moans when your lips meet. It makes you smile.

Everything he did in the last months makes sense now. He didn't despise you. He was desperate to fuck you. Masking his desire with anger. Now that you're here, you realize that you did the same thing.

Armitage puts his arms around you to hold you close. You open your mouth and suck on his bottom lip, gently biting it. It causes him to claw into your back. When you do it again, but harder, he groans loudly, pressing his chest against yours. The sound spurs you to rip your own jacket off.

His hands start to roam your upper body, fingers digging into your flesh. You lean back until you can prop yourself up on your elbows and extend your legs. Armitage takes it as a signal to quickly get rid of his pants before basically lunging at you.

Your lips meet again, teeth colliding a few times, lips getting sucked and bitten down on until they are swollen and red.

Pushing him by his shoulder, you make Armitage lean up so you can push up his shirt. His toned chest excited you. Sure, he's skinny, but you can see the muscles move as he takes off his shirt, leaving him only in his briefs. When your eyes dart to his crotch, you see his hard dick pressing against the black fabric.

You slither your hands into his underwear, feeling his heavy dick, and stroking it slowly. It makes Armitage lose any composure he had left, and he almost falls over you, letting out a breathless moan.

In return, his hand wanders up your inner thigh until he can press a knuckle against your clit. Your legs twitch and you intuitively open them further.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you lay down on your back. Stars, this feels good.

"Fuck, Armitage." You whisper.

He increases the pressure on your clit and lets his other hand wander up your side. Your body tenses up when he gets close to your scar. Armitage notices and uses both hands to gently lift your shirt until the scar that covers your side like a spider web is exposed. Your eyes shoot open, and you lift your head to look at him. Your instinct is to push his hand away and pull the shirt back down. But there is something in his eyes that stops you.

His hand hovers over the red and white lines and he waits until you give him a nod. Then he starts to trace them with his index finger, his eyes following the lines as he does.

"Beautiful." He mumbles.

It takes you by surprise.

When his eyes find yours, he admits: "I could not believe my eyes when you barged into the room."

You furrow your eyebrows, and he clarifies: "The first day we met. You just waltzed in there. Not giving a shit. Tougher than I could ever be… Maker, I wanted to lick the blood off your hands."

Arousal pools between your legs and your pulse quickens even more.

"Fuck, Armitage." You repeat. You cannot believe what you just heard.

The corners of his mouth move up as he smiles at you, a glimmer in his eyes. Looking at you through his eye lashes, he leans down to press numerous kisses to the scar tissue and up to your sternum.

"And then…" He continues, his lips moving on to suck on the skin of your neck, "at med bay. When I saw you barely clothed and tending to your wound. I almost fainted."

His voice sends shivers down your spine.

You turn your head to meet his lips. With your thumb you trace his cheekbone.

"Fuck me already." You murmur.

You don't need to tell him twice. As he sits up to pull down his briefs, you get rid of your underwear as well, throwing it at the pile of clothes you created in the past minutes.

"The floor." Armitage states. "Won't it hurt when-"

"I don't care." You grab the back of his neck with one hand and his dick with the other.

Guiding him to your entrance, you lay on you back, Armitage following you. He holds himself up left and right of your head. Bending one knee, you allow his hips to touch yours.

Just his tip entering you elicits a moan from the both of you.

Then you move down as he moves up and he slides in all the way.

Your eyes roll back, and you scratch his back with your fingernails.

"Stars, you're so wet." He whispers, bowing down to kiss you. You open your mouth willingly so he can push his tongue inside. Grazing it with your teeth, you slap his ass. It makes his hips jerk forward and you groan into each other's mouth.

Propped up on his elbows, he looks you in the eyes as he starts to move his hips.

The wooden floor is hard against your back and ass, but you absolutely cannot be bothered by it. Not when Armitage starts to speed up his thrusts. His dick stretches you further every time his hips collide with yours.

"You feel so good." He mumbles. "You're so warm and…" He never finishes the sentence.

"Harder." You tell him.

Complying instantly, he changes his pace to slow and forceful. You hum in appreciation, pressing kisses to the inside of Armitage's arm, then nibbling on the skin.

For several minutes, the slapping of your bodies colliding is all that can be heard. And your panting as you get worked up more and more.

Delicious little moans escape Armitage's lips, and you cannot stress enough how much it turns you on that he doesn't attempt to silence them.

When you feel him lose his rhythm, you push Armitage by the shoulders to make him fall to his back. You feel empty when he has to pull out of you to turn around.

"Sit up." You tell him breathlessly, climbing onto his lap.

He supports himself by putting his hands on the floor behind him, his legs stretched out, his hard dick slapping against his stomach as he moves.

Tilting it towards you, you lift your hips. Eager to have him inside you again, you quickly sink down. Armitage's head falls back in delight. You start to bounce up and down, impatiently chasing your orgasm.

You throw your arms around Armitage and press him to your chest. He bites into the flesh just above your boobs, wetting the fabric of your shirt with his saliva.

Rolling your hips, you make his cock hit your g-spot. When he feels you get tighter and clench around him, Armitage breathes out: "I cannot hold it much longer."

You smile and press a sloppy kiss to his lips: "Me neither."

He groans at your rough voice.

His curly pubic hairs rub against your clit, adding to the stimulation between your legs.

As you feel your orgasm linger in your abdomen, you grab Armitage by the neck again to make him face you. With dark pupils he looks up at you.

"Open your mouth."

Slack-jawed, he even pushes out his tongue. You spit on it.

"And now cum for me."

His eyes roll back, and his entire body goes rigid under you.

The obscene noises coming out of him, push you over the edge. Your thighs start to shake, and you soon have to stop moving, resting your sweaty forehead on Armitage's tense shoulder.

Your bodies rise and fall in sync as you breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Eventually, your nerves feel so raw, that you have to get off Armitage. Body limp, you fall onto your back.

Armitage doesn't move. Head hanging down, eyes closed, he just keeps sitting in place.

When he finally looks at you, his eyes are glazed and his cheeks flushed.

You caress his arm and smile at him.

"I-" He shakes his head.

"What, sweetheart? You what?"

Unconsciously, he mirrors your smile and slowly lays down next to you.

"I never…like this…" His voice trails off.

Genuinely pleading, Armitage looks at you: "Please tell me we'll do this again."

"You're hooked, aren't you?"

He nods: "I am fucking strung out on you."