Chapter 2: Dameron if you do, Dameron if you don't
Summary:
It's September at Arkanis Preparatory Academy, and the school year starts off with a bang. Hux and Ben fix their sights on one Poe Dameron, for starters...
[excerpt]:
"More importantly, though, Finn had up until now looked at Hux with the same adoration he was now directing towards Poe. Even if Hux never reciprocated Finn's feelings, no one touches Hux's things without permission, and no one says its over until Hux decides that it's so."
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
September 2016
"I missed you guys so much!" Phasma sighed, settling back comfortably against Hux's chest, his right arm casually draped across her shoulders.
Hux briefly ignored the press of the buttons from his blazer into his flesh as Phasma leaned against him. They had a sweeping view across the Dining Commons from their corner table, perfect for scrutinizing and scheming, and he intended to use it to his full advantage.
Hux ran his fingers idly through Phasma's hair, her blonde, silky locks nearly white in the sun. A subtle lemon scent filled the air from a nearby star magnolia, imbuing the early afternoon with an ephemeral quality.
"Yes. I imagine that hiking, drinking, and sunbathing your way around the Cinque Terre would be terribly boring," Ben drawled.
Phasma laughed, her face retaining the becoming golden tone which could only come from endless hours in the Riviera sun.
"It wasn't all play, you know. Immersion studies. Just one more thing to place on the college application."
Ben snorted. "As if you weren't already completely fluent in Italian since the eighth grade."
Phasma shrugged, conceding his point. She was not only fluent in Italian but also French, and spoke passably conversant German as well. She was also a lock for her top choice of Princeton, having a legacy which dated back to the mid-1800s and a library on campus which bore her great-grandfather's name.
"Well," she added with a wicked gleam in her eyes, "I never did say what type of immersion activity I indulged in with the locals."
Ben could only imagine. Phasma was like sex on legs. Beautiful, long, and shapely ones, at that.
The warmth of the sun intensified the citrusy smell as the muted din of the traffic hovered softly in the background.
Ben closed his eyes. There was a giddiness in the knowledge that this would be their last year. They were one step closer to adulthood, although from everything he's seen so far in his young life, Ben's not sure that adulthood is so very different, just greater consequences for bigger plays on a larger playground. But there is also a wistfulness in the realization that if everything goes according to plan, the three of them will soon be splintering off into different directions: to Princeton, Yale, and Brown.
Ben is entirely aware that he and Phasma are the closest thing to family that Hux has, and he wonders if there is a small part of Hux that isn't dreading the separation as well.
Hux was uncharacteristically quiet, as if reading Ben's thoughts. He leaned forward, pulling his tray towards him with more force than necessary as the orange and yellow baby carrots rolled along their lengths into the chimichurri sauce slicking the top and sides his pork chop. The tomato soup sloshed against the edges of his bowl, spilling onto the brown paper napkin until the slowly seeping and progressively enlarging stain rendered it soggy and useless.
He picked at the carrots, their texture not quite steamed enough. He stabbed at it with his fork, causing it to roll again.
Hux sighed, the petulant sound breaking through his normally cool deameanor. For all the organic, seasonally fresh, locally sourced and growth-hormone-and-antibiotic-free foods the executive and sous chef served as part of Arkanis Prep's outrageously priced meal plan, the quality and taste came across as a poor man's play on Thomas Keller, unfit to wipe the steps of Per Se.
Not to mention that Per Se had the added bonus of beautiful waiters willing to risk their jobs to slip Hux their number, or better yet, sneak into the bathroom to suck him off against the hard, tiled walls, with Central Park's treeline at their backs.
Phasma sat back into her chair and uncrossed her legs, the movement causing her jacket to pull tightly against her breasts and the top several buttons of her oxford to gape. The three of them are all ridiculously tall, but Phasma's formidable height rivals that of anyone in the school, guy or girl. She's also too much woman to fit into the measurements of a standard school uniform. No matter what, the skirts come up just a bit too high, the fit around the hips a bit too tight, and the sleeves fall a bit too short, making her look like a schoolgirl straight out of a suburban dad's guilty porn fantasy. Ben's sure he's caught a couple of the male teachers stealing furtive glances at Phasma's shapeliness as well.
Phasma crosses her legs again, and Ben tries to peek under the table discretely as she shifts.
"Eyes up, Solo," she laughs, not missing a beat.
Ben grins, and looks pointedly at her chest. She hits him in his upper arm, laughing.
"You're an incorrigible perv."
Hux raised an eyebrow. "I'm wounded. I thought that's what you always call me."
Phasma nuzzles him affectionately.
"Ahhh, Hux. Why can't you be straight?" she asks, half-seriously.
Hux shrugs. He's more outwardly affectionate with Phasma than with practically anyone else, Ben included, probably because he knows that nothing more intimate could ever happen between them.
"Not the right parts, darling. Although you do have a fantastic set of tits."
There was a chorus of laughter at the next table as three pairs of eyes followed the outburst of sound.
Finn's smiling as he sits with Dopheld Mitaka and another student who is new to their class. She's a pretty girl, her light brown hair pulled back into a messy bun that's starting to unfurl from its elastic enclosure so it droops down haphazardly into a series of loops. She has a bright smile, and a cute dusting of freckles across her cheek, but there's also a fierceness in her eyes and a defensiveness to her posture, as if she's waiting to be challenged or crossed.
Hux dismisses Mitaka immediately. Mitaka is a follower by nature, unthreatening and easily pliable. He files away his first impressions of the girl for future use before turning his attentions to Finn.
Finn is the son of the local weatherman who also fills in for a national morning news show in a pinch. Finn looks particularly handsome today, his dark skin smoothly flushed from the sun and his newly cropped hair accentuating his high cheekbones and the fullness of his lips. He's eagerly patting the seat next to him, and Hux's eyes narrow as another student approaches the group with a wide, toothy grin.
"Well, hello there." Phasma says with an interesting gleam in her eyes. "Who do we have here?"
Hux smiles tightly. "I believe that's Poe Dameron."
Ben turns around from his seat and his mouth nearly drops to the floor.
Ben's family has known Poe's for years. Poe's mother Shara was a former pilot with the Blue Angels, one of the few females to ever earn that honor. His father was Professor Kes Dameron, a handsome and brilliant aerospace engineer who helped design experimental X-planes for the United States Department of Defense. The last that Ben heard, Poe's family had moved to southern California, where Mr. Dameron headed up Specforce, a company specializing in the analysis and testing of various mechanical and aerospace systems.
The intervening years had been kind to Poe. With genes like that, it was easy to see how he would be blessed with both looks and swagger, but the last time that Ben had seen him, Poe was still hovering around that awkward prepubescent phase that even the best couldn't fully escape. He had since grown into the promise of the broadness of his chest and the strength of his limbs. His jaw was less soft and more squared, his hair a mass of riotous curls, and his eyes, always so expressive and soft, were now filled with confidence and a mischievous sense of humor.
"Shit! I didn't realize he was back in town."
Phasma looked at them both. "How is it that you boys know him, and I don't?"
Hux unscrewed the cap to his Voss water and took a sip, traces of tangerine and lemongrass washing over his palate as the bubbles burst and fizzed across his tongue.
"My dad was looking to acquire enough shares in Specforce to gain a controlling interest in the company. Mr. Dameron stopped by the apartment earlier this summer, and Poe was with him."
If Hux had a type, it was pretty and beautiful, sophisticated and worldy. Even Ben, despite his tall stature and wide shoulders had a sloped chin and sensual mouth and a loping grace which Hux found appealing. Poe was not Hux's type physically, but despite his more conventional masculinity, there was an optimism and good-heartedness about him that had proved fascinating for Hux.
Fascinating enough for Hux to temporarily entertain the idea of allowing Poe to become the fourth member of his coterie with Phasma and Ben.
Temporarily, because in the span of less than the five minutes, Poe had successively declined Hux's offer of a cigarette, refused his overture of a drink, rejected an invitation to go clubbing over the weekend, and generally looked less than enamored with Hux's considerable charms.
Because, Poe had added apologetically, he was not into those kind of things.
Hux's kind of things.
Sanctimonious prick.
Poe's deep and throaty laugh floats above the conversational din in the courtyard, his attention directed entirely on Finn. He's smiling at something Finn says, leaning over intently as he places his hand close by. And when Hux sees the adoring look that's on Finn's face in return, he is filled with the sudden realization that he hates Poe.
It's not like Hux and Finn were ever going out, or that Hux was even emotionally invested in him in the slightest. Finn doesn't have Phasma's my-family's-been-here-since-the-Mayflower or Ben's I'm-related-to-royalty-in-at-least-five-countries wealth or influence. Finn's also a little too easy to read and too unpolished to maintain Hux's interest for long. But what started out as a drunken experiment during a party in the Hamptons this past summer ended up with Finn beneath him and surprisingly eager in the sack, with the bonus of incredible stamina and an insatiable desire to please. Even if it only remained a one-off, the potential of a repeat performance would be a shame to lose.
More importantly, though, Finn had up until now looked at Hux with the same adoration he was now directing towards Poe. Even if Hux never reciprocated Finn's feelings, no one touches Hux's things without permission, and no one says its over until Hux decides that it's so.
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
"Listen. I think Poe may be a virgin."
Ben looked up from his phone, unsure if he had heard Hux correctly. He nearly stepped off the curb, the angry blare from a yellow cab pulling him back onto the sidewalk and out of harm's way.
"What?!" He tucked his phone back in his bag, and opened his jacket as he started to sweat under the heat.
Hux looks at Ben conspiratorially. "Wouldn't that be a great way to start off the year? Giving Poe a good and proper welcome to fabulous Arkanis Prep? Letting him join the six-inch deep club?"
Ben laughed. "Speak for yourself. More like the eight-inch deep club, if you know what I mean."
Hux fails to hide his snort as Ben frowned.
"What makes you think he's a virgin anyway? Or that he even likes cock?"
"Are you kidding me? Did you see the way he was looking at Finn?"
"I don't know, Hux. The whole thing feels kind of weird, I mean, his family's known mine forever. I never really thought about him in that way." Ben leans in a little closer to Hux. "I'd rather spend my time-um-getting to know someone else."
Hux fights the urge to roll his eyes at Ben's barely concealed desire. Sometimes Ben is utterly predictable. Hux has noted Ben's increasingly suggestive comments and his occasionally shy stares, which have increased in frequency in the past two years. There is no question that their friendship and competition has somehow turned the corner into an infatuation with the idea of sleeping with Hux. Or possibly, of owning Hux.
Hux's awareness has proved to be extremely useful. At the same time, Ben's desires are something that should be handled with great caution.
Hux considers his next words carefully, wondering just how much such an act will alter the dynamics of his relationship with Ben. It's an intimate one, for sure, but it's nothing that either of them haven't indulged in separately, or even frequently, especially when they've spent the night out partying, intoxicated and high.
They've just never done it with each other. But the idea of corrupting Poe-of corrupting such goodness, while exacting revenge-is too much for Hux to pass up.
"How about this?" he asks with a sangfroid he doesn't necessarily feel. "Whoever pops Poe's cherry, the other has to give him a blow job."
Hux realizes that the whole idea is juvenile. It lacks finesse, and in some ways, he feels that it is beneath him.
But Ben's curiosity is piqued. Ben loves sex: girls, guys, pussy, dick, the feel of fucking and of being fucked. And he particularly loves the idea of sex with Hux.
Ben also knows that this was a bet he was going to win. Hux, although sneaky, doesn't do subtle well. There was always an undercurrent of threat and danger to him, which, while attractive to some-Ben included-was definitely not Poe's M.O. He can easily imagine Poe's eyes widening and then hardening into a mixture of worry and distaste at Hux's advances, Hux's knowing grin and superior demeanor a turn off instead of a turn on.
Ben, however, did sweet, familiar, and comfortable. It was a role he could play so very, very well.
It starts off slow. In the first week, Ben talks with Poe about their families. They catch up on the things that they have done in the intervening years, and Ben finds that it's so easy for Poe to open up and share. He sits next to him in class, sharing his notes and asking questions as Poe smiles at him with such warmth and trust, all the while ignoring the strange looks that Finn throws their way.
Ben moves on next to the interests which they have in common—Asian underground and Bongo flava beats, sci-fi stories and action movies, and artistic and culturally brilliant comics and anime. And when Ben finds out that the Landmark Sunshine Cinema is having a midnight showing of 1981's Heavy Metal in Theater One, he jumps at the chance to go, and Poe takes the leap with him
They settle into the plush stadium seats, a bucket of the Landmark's classic popcorn held in a plastic-coated container in between Ben's legs. It's warm and perfectly popped, layered in melted butter and sprinkled with just the right amount of salt. They have a slushie each to the side, its refreshing coolness a balm against the dryness of the popped corn even as the ices melt and paint their tongues a bright red. It's all very sweet, and Ben experiences a slight prickling of his conscience at the idea of seducing Poe. But he rationalizes that he never promised Poe anything more than his friendship and a good time, and that plus the thought of Hux's lips on his cock soon outweighs anything else, as he adjusts the position of his long legs against the mild stickiness of the floor.
The movie starts, and Ben and Poe are assaulted with a kaleidoscope of color against a background of pulsing metal rock and sex. They watch enraptured, a visionary fantasy of otherworldly ethos and violence. Their hands reach into the bucket, the warm kernels occasionally slipping through their fingers, evading their fumbling grasps. And when Ben pulls out a particularly large handful, a stray one tumbles out from the others and finds its way into Poe's lap.
Ben reaches over to pick it up. His hand is warm on Poe's thigh, and Poe's breath hitches as the back of Ben's hand grazes Poe's burgeoning erection before traveling up towards his mouth. Poe watches as Ben opens his mouth slowly, his lips moistened and glistening and stained a bright cherry red. His face flames as Ben places the wayward piece on his tongue, wrapping himself around its puffy margins, slowly licking the butter which has trickled down the lengths of his fingers and in between. Ben's lips are gently parted, and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows the moistened, greasy, spit-coated kernel down the long line of his throat.
There is a quick intake of breath as Poe's eyes dilate, the movie relegated to an after thought as he continues to watch Ben from underneath his beautifully long lashes, mesmerized. Poe lifts his right hand, and his fingers curl hesitantly against Ben's own, hovering on the corner of Ben's mouth and those full, luscious, and perfect lips.
Gotcha, Ben thinks.
Ben leans in and tastes, laving Poe's fingers with the roughness and insistency of his tongue, sucking hungrily until he's lapped up every single drop of Poe's essence, so buttery and salty and sticky sweet.