At the end of the day, they returned to Dameron's quarters without so much as discussing their destination. They had agreed their work was done for the day; Dameron led. Hux followed. He didn't say anything because he didn't want to commit, or appear to commit, to spending the night together. Even though that was exactly what he wanted to do.

It wasn't like what they were doing wasn't high stakes enough without adding interpersonal tensions. Hux was talking to Order personnel, trying to heal a schism that had happened while he was in stasis. It was hard to get them to trust him without being there in person. Poe was doing much the same with the leadership of the New Republic, who weren't keen on being corporate lackeys, but were predictably indecisive about doing what it took not to be. They were stressful negotiations even without the distraction of the occasional touch, lingering look, or questionable innuendo.

Once inside the room, Dameron turned and held up both hands in surrender or 'stop'. "Listen," he said. "I know what I said earlier about the bed. I've been thinking about it all day." He had, had he? Hux had as well. Dameron continued, "I don't want you to think that's all I'm about or feel pressured or anything. We can just be professional about-"

Hux didn't let him continue this obnoxious, rambling pseudo-apology. It was insulting. Instead, he grabbed the front of Dameron's shirt, chain included, and yanked the man into him for a crushing kiss. They were alone now, finally. Everything else could get spaced.

"Oomf!"

Hux pressed his lips hard against Dameron's, hard enough to feel his teeth smashed against the inside of his mouth even through his pursed lips, hard enough (he hoped) to convey his interest, his intention, and his opinion of Dameron's desire to be 'professional'. For several seconds, that was all it was, a smarting press of mouths, the tickle of Dameron's shallow, startled breath against his cheek, and then the shift of Dameron's weight as the man settled into a more stable position.

Dameron's mouth moved twice and delightfully against Hux's unmoving one, and then stopped. The stopping part would not do. Hux lessened his pressure and emulated his partner, twisting his fist in the fabric of Dameron's shirt as he did. The man made a pleased croon and began to move his mouth in return again.

Dameron leaned into him in such a satisfying way. It made Hux's head spin almost without the kiss. But the kiss was deliciousness itself – soft lips, warm and a little wet, sliding smoothly over his. It felt like the hair on the back of his neck was standing up in ovation. And his skin was heating. His breath was short. He felt electrified, energized, and aroused.

Hux kissed back, harder as he chased that sensation with a needful, shameful-sounding grunt that he choked back as soon as he'd made it. Dameron's mouth opened and Hux hesitated until he figured out to open his own so they matched. Dameron did something like gulping at him, mouthing at him. Hux didn't care that he didn't understand it – this was all unfamiliar. All that mattered was that it was being allowed, encouraged, and shared. Dameron's hands were sliding up Hux's sides, tugging at the fabric like he wasn't happy it was there. Hux tightened his grip on Dameron's shirt. He wasn't about to let go at this point and bare his skinny, pasty body for Dameron's jeering and/or leering.

Dameron made another sound then, lustful and lewd. It seemed to be in response to the increased grip, so Hux twisted his fist further, tightening the collar around his neck and then loosening. That definitely seemed to be part of it – Dameron groaned again. He ran his tongue over Hux's lower lip on their next gulp. Hux sucked in his breath and straightened in surprise. That had felt even better. It was disgusting, but he wanted more. As if Dameron knew, he leaned up and bit Hux's lower lip, sucking it between his teeth and licking the captured flesh with abandon.

Hux's other hand gripped Dameron's shoulder, uncertain about what to do about the man biting him. Would he be hurt if he pulled away? Not that he wanted to, but the sensation was near to overpowering. It was ticklish, foreign, spittle-gross and oh-so-desired. Hux made another of those needy grunts, this one just as involuntary as the first. Dameron deigned to release him, tilting his head back and looking very smug.

Hux was panting. He was aware of the hardness in his groin, of the prickling all along his skin, of the way his heart was pounding and how his stomach felt light. His hand burned from the tight grip and the twist of fabric. He would have been drooling if he weren't constantly swallowing. He wanted to ask for a pause to pull himself together. But at the same time, he wanted more and he wanted it now. He wanted everything, all at once.

Dameron slipped an arm around his back and pulled them into an embrace. His muscular body was a firm, steady, heated line against Hux's. Dameron had to feel him, to feel his erection. It was such a tangible expression of Hux's desire. And here? Was this where Dameron would pull away and mock him? That one kiss had made him hard and desperate, had addled his mind and-

His thoughts went off-line abruptly as Dameron palmed Hux's erection through his pants. Hux's head fell forward in surrender, his face against Poe's shoulder. Already at a fever pitch of arousal, he felt helpless, powerless to do anything but stand there. He breathed in the man's scent as he was gripped, fondled, and manipulated with a slow, sure hand. It felt like his eyes were trying to roll up in his skull as every sensory input dimmed except the one coming from his dick. It was no more than a handful of strokes before his breath was catching and his nerves were lighting up. Hux made tiny noises as he came, noises that, if he'd been less insistent about preserving his dignity, could have been called a whimper.

"Ah." Dameron sounded amused. Pleased. It was almost a purr. He kissed Hux on the neck, but even that was too much to take, too soon after the rush of orgasm. Hux felt like the room was spinning. His knees were literally weak.

He staggered and stepped away only to trip against the edge of the bed and sit down heavily and unexpectedly on it. It cleared his mind a little, enough for him to realize he'd just made a mess of his pants. He'd just soiled himself like the touch-starved virgin he basically was. He picked at his crotch uncertainly, the warm ejaculate cooling already. There was no way he could conceal his inept inexperience. He had performed badly.

He looked up at Dameron with growing wariness. Was he in danger? What would happen next? Would Dameron use this against him? It must have showed on his face. Dameron said, "It's okay. You liked that?"

Hux kept his voice level, though that took an effort. "Obviously."

Dameron shrugged like it wasn't necessarily obvious. Or maybe he was just being polite. "Good. That was hot." He rubbed at his own crotch, adjusting himself. He, too, was erect, judging from the shape. That was a relief.

"Let me see." It was an impulsive demand. Was Dameron as much a victim of his desires as Hux felt?

Shamelessly, Dameron opened his pants. But of course, what did he have to be ashamed of? He pulled off his shirt and pushed his pants down just under his crotch, letting the swell of thigh and hip and slightly spread legs hold them up similar to how he had that morning. Hux stared at the man's rigid penis. It jutted from his body, darker at the base than the rest of Dameron's skin. It was a dusky purplish brown that faded to pink at the top, where he could see a bit of the glans peeking out from folds of foreskin.

Dameron pulled that skin back, exposing the full glans in its shiny glory. He stroked it slowly, rolling the foreskin up and down over the ridge of the glans in a mesmerizing display. With a force of will, Hux tore his eyes away to look up. Dameron was chewing his lower lip. He stared back as he pumped at himself, but his eyes were glazed with the filthiest of lust.

There was nothing heroic about Poe Dameron in that moment. Hux saw that so clearly. He was a man taken by his basest instincts, the target of his obsession before him, on his bed, having been brought off by his hand. And they weren't done. Whether Dameron would come on Hux or in him had yet to be determined. Trading sexual favors with someone of Dameron's background was the most repulsive, nastiest of vile acts. And here he was doing it anyway, because he, too, was a repulsive and nasty person.

"Come here." He wasn't about to let events happen to him the way they had when Dameron had jerked him off to his premature completion. He was in control. Dameron took a pair of shuffling steps to bring them together. He loomed over him, blocking out the light. His dick was a few centimeters from Hux's cheek, close enough that he could feel the heat of Dameron's body.

He could smell him, too. It was no worse than one might expect from a full day confined in clothes, but it was there. His groin was different from the scent of his shoulder. It was musky and masculine and made Hux swallow to inhale it. His mouth was watering again. The dick bobbed as Dameron's hand rasped over it unceasing, unhurried. The man put a hand on the rail of the top bunk, relaxing there as though assured Hux would service him appropriately.

Hux licked at him tentatively, disgusted at his own curiosity and perversion. The taste was skin and clean and an echo of the smell of Dameron's shoulder, another echo of the taste of his mouth. This – this was what he tasted like, his body, his scent, what Poe Dameron was on a carnal and visceral level. Hux tasted him again, less cautiously. Dameron groaned as Hux's wet tongue licked over him deliberately. Hux smirked at the sound.

"I'm not going to last, either," Dameron said, proving he wasn't so far gone as to be mute.

"I don't care." Hux was shaping his lips over the moving target of the end of Dameron's cock. The head of it pushed in and out of the ring of his mouth. His lips slid over the velvet skin, wetting it with his spit and leaving his lips tingling with the sensation. It was like Dameron's tongue in his mouth, but harder and bigger and solid and not as slick … Dameron stopped pumping, turning his hips so he was lined up with Hux's face.

Hux pressed forward, pushing the thing into his mouth, over his tongue and to the back of his throat. He savored the strange sensation, the layered taste, and the strained sound Dameron whined out, followed by a full body shudder. He could taste the saltiness of discharge mixed with his own saliva as he began to suck and bob slowly. Dameron slid his hand along Hux's cheek and that, too, was almost too much touch and sensation. Hux sucked hard, thinking he had to finish this quickly before Dameron did more than he could bear.

"Fuck," Dameron whispered the less used vulgarity, and his fingers curled into stubby claws. They hooked around Hux's jaw. This Hux could deal with better, but he kept sucking hard anyway, pulling back and pushing forward, thinking he would suck the jism from the man. Dameron breathed deeper several times, blowing out air with his suddenly shuddering exhalations. "Fuck. Yeah. Fuck! There …" He pulled out and cupped his hand over the end of his dick, coming into it. He slumped against the bunk and panted.

Hux felt abruptly and irrationally angry at being denied. "I would have taken that!"

Dameron looked at him blearily. He gave a silent laugh and offered his hand. "You still can." He was obviously joking.

Hux definitely was not. "I will not be coddled!" he spat, and took Dameron's wrist, holding his hand so Hux could swipe his tongue through the disgusting mess. He swallowed defiantly.

"Next time, I'll pin your head to the wall and come down your throat, then," Dameron said, still laughing and less silently by now. Was that a threat, a promise, or both? A smile was on the man's face and a delighted light in his eyes. Dameron recovered his shirt from where he'd tossed it on the top bunk and wiped his hand off meticulously, eyeing Hux as he did.

"Such ideas," Hux chided, but he laid back on the bed to make a show of being unconcerned. If he hadn't come earlier, he certainly would have been erect again at the very suggestion. Then again, it didn't have to remain a suggestion. They could make that a reality. Tomorrow. Or in an hour or two. He made a considering hum at the thought. Dameron tossed the wadded shirt into an untidy corner.

"You're a slob," Hux stated baldly, uncaring if he offended.

"And you're judgy and defensive," Dameron declared as he climbed onto the bed, pushing Hux over on his side and crawling up behind him as though this were normal between them. Hux thought about objecting. It was not normal. Then again, letting someone put their dick in his face and then sucking them off wasn't normal, either. Dameron wrapped an arm around his midsection and hugged him from behind.

It felt good. Secure. Protected and protective. Maybe Dameron was showing how he felt about how things had turned out by holding him close. Not letting him get away, or retreat to the upper bunk. He wanted him here in his arms where he could have at him again in the morning. Or the middle of the night. It was an appealing thought. It gave him a use.

"I have reasons for being judgmental and defensive," Hux said archly. Which was in itself defensive, but damn it if his life didn't justify a certain wariness around people. He touched Dameron's arm, wondering if the man realized how novel this was for him, both to experience it and to allow it. Dameron's arm had hairs on it and while this was obvious (he was a mammal and a human, and most grooming didn't include the removal of arm hair), it was still weird to touch the hairs on someone else's arm. And just … touch them. At leisure.

"Ever occur to you I might have reasons for being a slob?" Dameron moved his head back and forth, rubbing his nose against Hux's back, through the shirt, as Hux was still fully clothed. It felt like an answer to the arm-hair-touching, a stronger version of the same, a way of approving of it.

But well, as to the question, no, it hadn't occurred to him. Or rather, if it had, he'd assumed the reasons were laziness and lack of discipline. That was what his father – no, everyone he knew – accused people of when they didn't keep to regulation standards for neatness. He'd long since realized his father's opinions weren't worth the waste of flesh that produced them, so Hux wasn't automatically inclined to agree. "What reasons are those?"

"Mm, well, my mom died when I was eight and my dad had about a … oh, ten year period of depression after that. Keeping everything spick and span wasn't a priority. He kept me alive and safe and taught me what I needed to know no matter what was going on with him inside. He took care of what was important."

Which was … his son. Instead of beating him up over trivial things and abusing him for common faults. Instead of telling him he was lazy and undisciplined if he didn't make his bunk properly every morning. Instead of making him judgy and defensive, to have grown up contemptuous of his sire's views. They had common ground in losing their mothers young, but it sounded like their fathers couldn't have been more different. "Do you love him – your father?"

"Yes. I should put an 'of course' on there, but I know that's not the case for everyone."

Oh, yes. Dameron knew about his past. "I don't recall ever loving my father."

Dameron nodded. It was a relief to be believed and unquestioned, not to have to justify or explain. Just a nod. An understanding.

In a moment of guilt and weakness, Hux said, "I don't know that I'll ever love anyone."

Dameron made a sound like a very soft snort. "Go to sleep, Hugs." He tightened his grip around Hux's waist and shifted his body up to kiss him on the back of the neck. Hux tried to stifle what he thought was a laugh but turned out to be a sob. He gasped, almost choked, and covered his mouth. "Hey," Dameron said very softly. "You okay?"

Hux shook his head quickly – short, abrupt motions. He kept his mouth covered and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a knot in his chest and his throat. He remembered that dream, or vision – the younger version of him, the sands of Jakku. Is it worth it? Do I win in the end, at least? This felt a lot like winning. He didn't know if it would last – victory rarely did – but having Dameron wrapped around him, drowsily post-orgasmic, hugging him, kissing him, and putting up with his poor social skills like they were perfectly normal – this was worth it. It really was.

He swallowed past the lump, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm fine. I'm going to sleep now." He shut his eyes, evened his breathing, and relaxed as much as he could. Dameron didn't put up a fuss, which seemed extraordinarily undemanding. To judge from his breathing, he fell asleep before Hux did.