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The summons had been without warning, and now Hux couldn’t even meet her at his door himself? Phasma shoved his protocol droid out of her way unceremoniously, entering the darkened chamber of the Lieutenant General. It was lit only by the calm blue glow of a personal bacta tank set into the center of the room, bordered by a circular couch. Hux was seated there, leaning back with his elbows up and his legs crossed.

Phasma joined him, vaulting over the couch and sitting across from him. Hux’s face had been blank and his eyes closed as if in some form of meditation. His eyes opened now, fixing her with his habitual pale stare. The bacta tank bubbled silently, the shadows of it roiling across Hux’s face. In this ghoulish light he looked dead, Phasma thought.

“Good evening, sir,” Phasma told him.

“You aren’t in your armor,” Hux said neutrally. It was ludicrous coming from him at this moment. He wore only a black pleated robe. His hands and feet were bare, and the robe’s neckline was low enough that she could see his hexagonal dog tags gleaming on his pale chest.

“I had a date tonight,” Phasma told him, tossing her short blonde curls. She was in her regulation training tank and pants. She had selected them because she knew her arms looked good in a tank. She leaned toward Hux now, resting her elbows on her knees and holding his gaze, daring him to put up a fuss about what she wore in her off hours, especially now that she’d stood someone up to answer his call. He didn’t.

“You’re due an ascension in rank by now,” he said. “You would make a marvelous captain. Of course that is my father’s purview.” Hux’s eyes flashed. “And he cares little for my input, I’m afraid.”

Phasma’s heart quickened at the mention of the General. Brendol had saved her life as much as she’d saved his. She’d pulled him from the fiery wreckage of his ship and he’d gotten her off the surface of Parnassos, giving her a place in the First Order. Hux’s eyes were watching her, studying her. The fine white hair on her body stood up in alarm. Phasma had seen warlords rise and fall on her home world and she knew the makings of a man who could keep the power he clawed up for himself. The younger Hux was that man. His father was not. The ease she felt in her free hours left her as she realized that this meeting was vitally important. What she said here could vault her ahead in life, if Hux liked it.

“That’s a terrible shame, sir,” she said. Hux gave her a close-lipped smile. Phasma ventured further — go big or go home, and Phasma was never going home. She’d die first.  She said sweetly, “You are the next in line for his position, should the General see fit to retire.”

“Our officers serve till death, I’m afraid,” Hux answered.

“Then it is a shame that the Order will be spared your leadership for so long,” said Phasma.

Hux broke their stare to look into the teal column of the bacta tank. “Incredible invention, these.”

“Yes, sir.”

“They can bring a dying man back from the brink. Have you ever been in one?”

“No, sir.”

“I have.” Hux looked back at her now, his face cold.

Phasma grasped for the right answer. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

Silence quickened her heartbeat. Hux’s face gave nothing away. He was cool as a dead star. At last he nodded, accepting her cordial sympathy.

“Of course,” said Hux, “there remain in the galaxy certain conditions a bacta tank cannot heal. Particularly on planets less-studied.”

Parnassos, Phasma realized. That was her key. She was an accomplished trooper, but that alone was not why Hux had called her here tonight.

“There’s a beetle,” she said, and Hux’s veneer cracked subtly. She could see in his green eyes that she had his full attention, something a lesser person would not withstand. She felt rather like she was being x-rayed. “Poisonous. Awful way to go, and not a cure in the galaxy. Saw more than one poor soul die of the sting on Parnassos.”

“How very fortunate,” said Hux, “that there is not such a thing aboard Star Destroyers.”

“Yes, sir.” Phasma’s mind was already whirring. If she could get in touch with her old crew, perhaps....


“Yes, sir?”

“I apologize for having set your evening off course.”

“It’s no trouble, sir.”

“I want you to know that you can find everything you seek with me. You need not look elsewhere.” Hux said offhand, and despite his state of undress and the way he lounged on his couch, Hux had a way of making everything look like a uniform. He still somehow looked proper. His voice sounded it too. It took a moment for his very off-the-books suggestion to catch up with her.

“May I speak plainly, sir?” Phasma asked. Is this room safe? She suspected Hux ran her round in circles with half-suggestions purely for his love of it. A man like this would not leave his quarters unsecured.


“You’re offering me sex?” Phasma asked slowly, “In exchange for poison?”

“I offered you a captainship in exchange for poison. But if you wish to recoup what you expected to gain from being elsewhere tonight, it would be my pleasure.” Hux said, his face impassive.

Phasma eyed Hux’s slim frame doubtfully, but she had already missed the opportunity to meet her date in the lounge.

“If you’re so confident,” she allowed, sitting back in an imitation of Hux’s own posture, except that she spread her legs wide.

Hux let the left shoulder of his robe fall and turned the joint to show her the little silver square implanted there with microneedles. Were the little device out of date or if it detected an abnormality with his health, it’s surface would turn dark. His was shiny and clean. She shifted so that he could see hers, alike except for the little red hexagon in the corner indicating she was trooper, and therefore on mandatory hormone regulation.

“If you have any requests of me...” Hux offered, and Phasma sensed that this too was a test of sorts.

“None. Sir.”

“If you want me to stop, you need only say so. You have my word.” Hux stood and took the scant steps forward to her. He was a tall man. Not as tall as Phasma, but no man was. While she was seated at least, he towered over her.

Phasma’s pride protested at the idea of Hux thinking he was too much for her, no matter her blooming admiration for him. “If you draw that word from me tonight you would be the first, sir.”

“If I don’t hear that word from you tonight,” Hux countered, “It will be a first for me.” Before she could respond, Hux leaned over and wound his hands into her hair, using it as leverage to capture her lips in a scorching kiss.

Phasma was briefly shocked that Hux could kiss like this. From her existence in his periphery she’d thought him bloodless. She changed that view now, as he sucked on her lower lip until she groaned and then plunged his tongue into her mouth.

She could give as good as she got. Her hands twisted into the lapels of Hux’s robe, pulling him in. He pushed her back, and she let him guide her down onto the couch with his slim hips between hers. Heat bloomed between her thighs. There was something especially illicit in this. Well, the premeditation of murder. But beyond that, the heady reality of swapping spit with a Lieutenant General while she herself was a trooper...she knew her strengths and kept her head down, and here was this slip of a man with a mind like a weapon, who had seen her. Had asked her to help remove this last barrier in his path, bestowing responsibility and the importance that came with it upon her.

He wanted her in at least two ways. Phasma felt the hot length of his cock thick with blood as he rolled his hips against hers, teasing himself. Teasing her, whether he’d meant it or not. The pressure was delicious against her clit, and she moaned into his mouth.

“So beautiful,” Hux murmured, his hands leaving her hair to roam across the muscle of her shoulders and arms. She’d never had a male partner that gripped her biceps like this, like he was worshipping her. His fingers trailed down and rucked up her shirt.

“Ah- yes,” she panted as Hux broke the kiss, sitting up to pull her training tank off her body. It caught on its built-in compression bra and Hux tugged it off briskly from above her.

His hands were on her breasts. He thumbed her nipples, hardened in the chill of the room, and then ducked his head to pull one of them into his mouth. Just before he released it he grazed his teeth along the sensitive pink bud, then kissed along her sternum to its twin, lavishing it as well. Phasma closed her eyes, letting herself focus on the ministrations of Hux’s mouth, the heat of it, and the sharp threat of bites left unfinished on her skin.

The waistband of her pants was pulled away from her hipbones, exposing the sweat that had beaded up there to the air, and Phasma lifted her hips so that Hux could slide her clothing down and off. He gave her reddened nipple one last suck before he pulled off with a wet pop to finish shucking her pants from her legs. He crawled back up her body, resting lightly at the side of her ribs, and trailed one elegant white hand up her scarred thigh and to the crotch of her regulation black briefs. In her arousal she’d soaked through them, and his fingers came away from the fabric slick. He made an approving noise deep in his throat that went straight to her sex.

Phasma pushed herself up on her elbows and shifted so that she lay propped up by the couch. She’d fallen behind in reciprocation, and that wouldn’t do. Now that he was kneeling beside her she could see Hux’s cock tenting the front of his black robe, and she reached out to palm it. One of Hux’s hands covered hers, holding it fast to his erection for him to grind against, and with the other he looped a finger around the edge of her briefs and pulled them down to her knees. Phasma wriggled to kick them off, already moaning as Hux’s long fingers traced her slick folds. She spread her thighs wider at the sensation, so unlike her own hands, her mind reeling. “Stars,” she said as he breached her with a single digit. She wanted more at once. She was wet enough for more, but he did not indulge her yet.

Hux shifted closer on his knees, leaning his shoulder down to keep his hand in place and twisting to bring the black satin bulge at the front of his hips toward her face. Phasma could guess what he wanted. She shook his hand off hers and pulled his robe open, taking in the sight of his flushed cock, purple in this blue light, the neatly-trimmed copper pubic hair around it tinted green. She opened her mouth, ready to impress him by taking him to the hilt, but he only allowed her to lap at the head of his cock, pulling back every time she began to suck.

Hux withdrew his finger from her only to quickly replace it with two, the stretch satisfying. Then he began to circle his thumb around her clit and she bucked into his hand, her eyes rolling back at the feel of her building release.

“Enough,” He said huskily, pulling his cock away a final time, still hard and leaking and nowhere near satisfaction. Hux bent and kissed his way down her abdomen, giving her clenching abdominal muscles the same attention he’d given her biceps, dipping his tongue into the shadows there until she gasped, and then brought his face down to where his hand was working, licking her clit every time his thumb left it uncovered. 

Phasma rocked her hips up to meet Hux’s hot tongue as she clenched around his fingers. She came with a startled cry, her arousal soaking the couch below them as her whole body thrummed with the intensity of her orgasm. Hux latched his mouth onto her clit and sucked her through it, making her keen. Overstimulated tears slipped back from her eyes into her sweat-damp hair. Once she was spent and shuddering in the aftershocks, Hux stopped fucking his fingers into her, allowing her muscles to simply clench and unclench around them, and he kissed her clit gently, his lips soft around it. Each tiny movement of his mouth on her felt like a direct electric shock.

Phasma wanted to grab him and pull him off, but she stilled her hands as she reached for him. “Sir.” Her voice sounded broken. She tried again. “Sir?”

Hux pulled off with one final hot swipe of his tongue across her clit that made her whimper. Before Phasma could catch her breath, Hux was rolling her unceremoniously off the couch. She landed on her hands and knees and he pushed on her shoulder blades until she went down on her elbows. One of Hux’s hands came around and cupped her jaw, pulling her face up toward the glowing blue abyss of the bacta tank.

“This is where he’s going,” Hux said. “Not comatose either. No. He’ll be awake. He’ll know what’s happening to him.” Phasma felt the blunt head of Hux’s cock pressing against her and then he pushed in. She moaned at the sudden stretch, more than enough to get the job done. It was always the tall skinny ones that were hung. Hux’s voice cut into her head again. “Too shy to look?”

“No, sir.” Distracted, is all. Phasma looked up at the empty tank where Brendol’s body would disintegrate painfully.

Hux pulled out partially and rammed back in to his full length, filling her. He started to fuck her then, and she knew that he’d made her cum before for the practicality of it as much as for her own pleasure. She was relaxed enough from her orgasm that he could take her roughly without injuring her. Hux almost lazily pulled the tie on his robe open, baring the pale swathe of his stomach and chest, and Phasma felt the black fabric flutter around her hips. One of his hands gripped her hip tightly, the other splayed open on her back, steadying her as he thrusted.

Phasma looked up and caught the ghostly reflection of herself in the transparisteel of the bacta tank, down on her elbows with her ass in the air, Hux behind her with his his robe hanging off one shoulder and his dog tags clinking on his chest as he moved. His red hair, muted in this light, was breaking free of its sharp styling, pieces falling forward into his flushed face. Human after all. But dangerous, relentless. Perhaps the cruelest man in the galaxy was currently buried inside her, fucking her like a man twice his size. She moaned again as he drove in deep, hitting her g-spot, and then she grunted and started fucking him back.

“Rub me off,” she said, getting close but unable to topple over the edge into bliss without stimulation on her clit.

Hux obliged her, moving the hand on her back around to circle his fingertips over the hard little bundle of nerves just as she needed.

“You come back after the job is done,” Hux purred, “There’s more of this for you.”

“You do what you say you can for me,” she told him, her voice breathy but strong, “I’ll be back before he’s dead. I’ll make you cum right here where he can see. He can watch your pleasure while the toxin twists his gut like xenoboric acid.”

Hux’s rhythm stuttered and he gasped, his hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise, and then he pulled out and came with a grunt, his seed spilling hot over her asshole, making the muscle of her rim clench in surprise.

“Stars, yes. Gorgeous,” Hux murmured, his voice so low Phasma could have missed it, and she wondered for an instant whether he meant the image in front of him or the one she’d put in his head. She could work with either.

Then his clever fingers forced another orgasm from her, and she was lost in white-hot static, clenching around nothing this time. Hux’s tongue laved hot over her skin, cleaning her of his spend while she recovered.

When she felt that she could trust her joints again, Phasma leapt up and toppled Hux over onto his back, making him yelp in surprise. Her hands roamed his skinny white chest, and she licked the head of his softening cock, cleaning the last white remnants of their coupling from it, making him gasp and shake with overstimulation. One of his hands petted her shoulder encouragingly even as he flinched away. She could have guessed Hux would prefer sex, like everything else in a soldier's personal life, to veer off into excess. So much pleasure it turns to pain.

“I’d like to express my heartfelt congratulations, sir,” Phasma said when she pulled off him, “on your imminent promotion.”