Work Text:
Distrust lingers in the air, sharp and biting, suffocating Poe with every forced inhale. He willfully steadies his thundering pulse and meets each suspicious glance with a measured gaze of his own.
The First Order couldn’t be more different than the Resistance; where a defector is welcomed with open arms in the latter, Poe isn’t surprised by the thinly veiled hostility he finds upon the former’s ship. Why should anyone believe the dedicated, brave pilot from the Resistance has had a sudden change of heart? He repeats the list of reasons General Organa drilled in his head the last few days until the words blur and lose all meaning.
It’s when he meets Hux’s gaze, icy green eyes piercing and unreadable, that his resolve begins to weaken. Hux gestures to a nearby door–-his personal quarters, though Poe isn’t supposed to know this–-and follows him inside, bracing himself when the durasteel doors close shut behind them.
Silence pervades the room and Poe’s ears rush with blood. His heart seems to work overtime, clenching and releasing in sync with his choppy breath. Hux stoically considers Poe, his brow furrowed in deep thought. His lips part but no words come forward.
Their last meeting was weeks ago and they hardly spoke then either. It’s easier that way. Instead of words they used their bodies to communicate; desperate kisses, rough and searching hands, urgent coupling that left more than a few marks and bruises.
But now everything has changed and Hux knows it–-they both do.
Hux is no fool.
That doesn’t stop him from surging forward and meeting Poe halfway to capture his lips in a violent kiss. There is more teeth than tongue and Poe groans needfully when the taste of copper invades his mouth. Hux’s breath is ragged on his skin, the slightest hitch catching on each inhale. Poe feels dizzy with want, consumed with desire, wrecked with sorrow on what inevitably must follow.
Hux pulls back from the fervent kiss, his pupils blown wide and face flushed. He reaches out to cup Poe’s face and his thumb swipes away a bead of blood from his lower lip, gently. Too gently.
Hux drops his hand and his eyes shutter, his expression hard and his voice cold:
“Welcome to The First Order.”