Chapter Text
The work you had to do for the First Order was necessary, it was the basest level of ensuring that security could run as it should, but that didn't stop it from being the most tedious set of tasks you'd ever come across. It was simple bad luck, with a healthy dose of wanting to get the job done that had landed you this role. When you had graduated the academy, everyone in your class of analysis and engineering experts had thrown themselves at exciting roles such as weapons specialists, bridge maintenance and hypernautics, but the career floor had gone silent when the position of Transponder Code Analysis had been announced. The stern officer had declared that they were to sit in silence until someone took the job, and already tired and overwhelmed with all the posturing done by fellow classmates to declare themselves the “best in their field”, you reluctantly raised to your feet & accepted the menial role.
Needless to say, it worked in your favour. You instantly got off on the right foot with your superiors and the team that you began the job with were pleasant enough, albeit incredibly boring. And so began the first of many years in the dullest job you'd never imagined yourself in.
Fast forward to your eighth year. It would be nice to say that you had raised through the ranks in that time, but when the ranks consisted of “Transponder Code Analyser” and “Senior Transponder Code Analyser”, it wasn't exactly hard to do. Your team consisted of three humans and one Chiss, all who got along as well as a group of engineers ever can. You had all been stationed in a First Order cruiser orbiting the planet of Karaxis for the last six months, carefully checking each and every ship that when back and forth from the planet.
In the last week, a dreadnaught had joined the cruiser. A rumour had made its way around your ship that both Kylo Ren and General Hux had gone planetside to “persuade” the locals to come under First Order rule. Of course, your team were already aware of this, having silently checked the ships that left dreadnaught's docking bay on the first day of its arrival. It gave you all a sense of quiet superiority, although none of you would say it out loud. But to have the information that everyone was curious about right under your fingertips, from a role that everyone looked down on, was a position of pride for you all.
You had developed a routine in your long years of service. Wake up in your modest quarters, down two glasses of water with your vitamin supplements, work out for an hour in the troopers training facilities, start your shift (which was broken up between the five of your team so that the console was never left abandoned), eat maybe one whole meal in the space of the day, work out again before you then made your way into bed. It wasn't much and you wished every night when you crawled back to bed that something more exciting would happen, but it kept you going until your next shore leave was approved
However, you were trying you utmost to repress the grin that was spreading across your face as your console flashed.
Not two hours previously, the bridge had been a hive of activity, every officer's usual calm demeanour thrown asunder with the news that General Hux himself was coming aboard. The cruiser was normally just used for recon and very rarely saw anything out of the ordinary happen. Then the General strode onto the bridge and the atmosphere changed. You had only ever seen him on the holo, had always considered him a good looking man for an officer, but the holos didn't do him justice. His straight back, closed face and pale skin were nothing compared to the shock of colour in his eyes and on his head. As your commanding officer rushed to greet him, yourself and all other department leads stood to attention, you took the opportunity to openly look at the General. He had a truly strange beauty that rolled off the sharp lines of his cheeks, all the way down to the tight clasp of his gloved hands. The gloves. A traitorous part of your mind imagined those gloves wrapping around your wrists, pinning you to your console and.. Kriff where was this coming from?! You'd definitely had too little going on in your life if the first attractive man you'd seen in years elicited this response from you. In your defence, it wasn't just his physical appearance that had you pining. The command that he had swept onto the ship had caused the first real thrill to run through your bones since you'd stepped into the role.
Lost in your thoughts, it took the longer part of a minute to realise that whilst your commanding officer was still talking, the General had turned his eyes from the reports in his hand and had been returning your gaze.
Fuck.
There was no discernible emotion in his clear green eyes, but a whirlpool of cold fear and hot emotion was building in your body. The world around you melted away, and for a long moment, all you could see was him. As quickly as he had met your look, a crease appeared at the corner of his eye and he turned back to the ship's commander.
You swallowed. A thin bead of cold sweat trailed down the back of your neck, disappearing below your uniform. Heart hammering in your chest as you and the other officers were dismissed, you all but scrambled back to your console.
Pull yourself together. An attractive powerful man had all but looked at you when you hadn't been having the most professional thoughts about him and you were a mess. Taking a deep gulp of the water beside your console, you desperately attempted to focus on the various codes being pinged from the planet and neighbouring ships. Taking a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself back into the present. You were confident that you were good at your job, this small bump wasn't about to distract you from the role that you took seriously.
Two hours passed. The work, and your heart rate, had gone back to normal. Your commanding officer had informed all on the bridge that anything out of the ordinary was to be passed on to General Hux from that point on, and he had taken up residency in one of the officer's quarters on the ship.
A code flashed.
It was no secret the animosity that the General and Kylo Ren held for each other. So the fact that a transponder code from Kylo Ren's personal ship leaving the dreadnaught was currently flashing up on your screen was like Christmas come early. There had been an announcement over the two ships that no-one was to disengage from their current position, clearly due to some First Order business that you were not privy to.
Copying the code from your console to your datapad, you called a member of your team to take over the console on the bridge while you were delivering the report. Informing your commanding officer and obtaining permission to leave the bridge before you did so, you began the long walk down the many hallways to the officer's quarters.
Eventually reaching the front door to the General's quarters, you lifted your hand to press the intercom and froze. In all your delight to present the anomaly, it hadn't actually sunk in that you would be speaking to the General face to face. No, this was for more important than your nervousness. You would just have to not think of the General like you had on the bridge. That would be fine.
Besides, hadn't you be wanting something more exciting to happen?
Rolling your eyes at yourself, you pushed the intercom.
Nothing.
A slip of irritation wormed its way into your head. What kind of person demanded all reports to be delivered to him, then didn't answer the door. You pressed the intercom again.
Nothing.
Now no longer a slip of irritation, but a full blown annoyance. You pressed the intercom again.
“This better be important.” The intercom crackled to life with a voice that sounded as annoyed as you felt.
Pushing down the urge to mirror his tone, you spoke up. “General, I'm the Senior Transponder Code Analyser on this vessel and I've received a report that I think you'd be interested in, may I come in?”
Silence.
Was he serious? Any complimentary thoughts that you'd had on his arrival to the bridge were replaced with the emotions you'd felt towards any officer who had looked down on your role beforehand.
You were about to throw it all to the wind and walk back to your station, when the door opened and a the General snapped an order at you to bring the report to his desk. Steeling your expression, you entered and to your surprise, were greeted by an empty desk.
The room was far more generous than your quarters, a wild room with a large desk and workstation by the window, a half open door to the right leading into what you assumed was the bedroom and bathroom.
“Sir?” You took a step towards the desk.
“Report, officer.” The command came from the adjacent room, his voice sounding strained and a bit echoey. You rolled your eyes, the top brass never changed.
“Well, sir, as you requested, any unusual activity was to be reported straight to you” you could have sworn you heard a soft curse come from the bathroom, but continued anyway, “and the transponder code from Kylo Ren's personal ship has come across my desk, it appears as though he is leaving orbit.” A clang as though something metallic had dropped onto the floor came from the same place the General's voice had come from. You frowned, taking a half step towards the room. “Sir, are you alright?”
Another curse, this time louder than the last. Something else hit the floor and the door slammed. Your curiosity was steadily overtaking any form of caution, and you took the necessary steps needed to carry you to outside of the bathroom door.
“Sir?” You called out again, softly knocking on the door. “Sir.. I can come back another time if...” The door swung open and you were greeted with a very pissed off Hux.
Needing a second to take in his appearance, your immediate thought was that he had been attacked somehow. The redhead was stood in a sea of bloody tissues, towels and any other absorbent materials that he could find. An angry red line was beginning to weep on his beautiful cheek followed by a much lighter rash forming around the cut.
“Tell me this, Senior Transponder Code Analyser,” he sneered, taking a not non threatening step towards you, “can none of your commanding officers grow facial hair, or is it simply that they choose not to shave and grow it out like filthy animals?”
Ah.
He was trying to shave. And doing tremendously badly at it.
“All the hygiene items aboard are inferior, and the facilities would be better suited to a rebel base than that of a First Order cruiser” he continued, maintaining his glare locked onto you.
A bubble of laughter was forming in your throat that you were so desperately trying to keep down. As was the desire to inform him that you didn't actually supply or stock the male hygiene products in the officers quarters. You were fully aware that if either of these two things forced their way out of your mouth, that this man could and probably would kill you.
He probably had someone to shave him aboard the dreadnaught, an indulgence that had not yet made its way to the officers of your vessel. An idea formed in your head.
Besides, hadn't you been wanting something more exciting to happen?
“Sir, if you take a seat I can assist you? I'm probably more accustomed to the quality of the items on this ship than you are.” His eyes narrowed, but you continued unhindered, “we're only supplied for reconnaissance, rather than comfort.” You looked up at him with what you hoped was a trustworthy expression on your face. Even if he rejected your suggestion, it would be enough to say to yourself “I offered to shave the General of the First Order in his personal quarters”.
To your very great surprise, and hidden delight, the General, keeping his eyes on you, closed the lid of the toilet in the spacious bathroom, sat silently on it and handed you the razor.
Nearly dropping your datapad in the rush to take it from him, lest the moment pass and he realise that this was potentially a ridiculous idea, you went to the sink to wet the razor and take up the shaving cream.
Turning, you found his eyes were still fixed on you, scowl still etched into his features. As you reached out to apply some of the cream to his face, his hand caught your wrist. “Breathe a word of this to anyone, I will kill you myself.” His fingers dug into your skin as you swallowed heavily and nodded. He might be an asshole, but he was an asshole with the power over your entire life. Confident of your understanding, he released your arm and permitted you to continue. Softly applying the cream to his marble like skin, you took up the razor, making sure that he had seen you do so and that he wasn't about to flinch when metal touched flesh. That would be yet another quick path to the grave.
Slowly but swiftly, you place a hand on the top of his head, drawing his chin up to the ceiling, and perform the first of many swipes shaving him clean. You're not sure when it happened, but the air around you both had thickened, Hux is looking anywhere but at your face and for your part, you are trying to focus on the task at hand so much that you almost don't notice the short gasp when you swipe the razor under his ear.
You try to pay it no mind, reminding yourself that you have the General of the First Order at your mercy with a blade to his face. But just in case... The razor travels the same path, for curiosity's sake, and causes the same reaction.
Your eyes snap to his face and are met with the most unexpected sight.
General Armitage Hux. Is blushing.
His eyes are closed, but there is no mistaking the pink dusting across his features.
Well aware that you are playing with fire at this point, you run the hand that was originally on the top of his head down to his chin, the further, cupping his neck, running your thumb almost un-perceptively across his throat. The sound that came from him caused heat to instantly shoot to your core. It was strangled, like a man begging for air. His eyes remained closed, now with a furrow cutting into his brow.
You tilt your head back, brimming with the pride that you have made this lofty man pliant with such simple actions. Another idea, one that had been a part of your subconscious since the first time you saw his face on the holos, began to take root in your mind.
To rid this handsome, handsome man of two somethings that have been bothering you for quite some time. You'll do the world a service with this one.
So you move closer to him, slotting your body to the left side of his, unnecessarily leaning your body so that your clothed breasts just lightly glance his ear. Reaching over to the sink to wash the razor, returning to his face before he can protest the contact.
As your sigh caresses his cold skin, Hux shivers and opens his eyes to watch you. There is a reverent delicacy to how you handle the razor in your hand, next, drawing your thumb back up along his laryngeal prominence, and into the soft flesh on the bottom of his chin. He breathes hard, eyes fluttering shut as you easily take off two inches of sideburn on his left cheek.
If Hux notices, he doesn't say anything, to preoccupied with gripping the fabric of his trousers in an attempt to ground himself.
You move the razor back up his face, curving around the sweet spot behind his ear that brought forward such a delightful noise earlier. In truth, you weren't sure who this was effecting more. That was, until you pulled back to check your work and your eyes went unbidden to the slight tightness forming in the front of his trousers.
Oh.
Yet another idea. And by this point, none of your ideas have steered you wrong.
Careful of the blade in your hand, you swing your leg over his and before he can say anything, sit firmly in his lap.
His eyes fly open, hands going from the legs of his trousers to instinctively grab your waist. Before he can say anything, you return to your task, moving on to the other side of his face, pressing the razor against his cheek to deter any sudden movements. A soft curse slips out of his mouth and he is watching you like a hawk. Unable to hold it back any more, a smile begins to curve at the side of your mouth. When you woke up this morning, you would never have guessed that you would be straddling the General of the First Order as he whimpered at the act of you shaving him.
You examine his expression with amusement, enjoying the clear battle going through him as you slide the blade across his cheek, removing the short hairs that had formed over his excursion to Karaxis. Deciding to test the waters further, you adjust your hips and move closer to him, now so close that the two of your chests were but centimetres away.
Now time for the other one.
“Where did you learn this skill?” The sound of his voice shocked you out of your reverie, although it wasn't the cutting tone that you were used to from the General. It was little over a whisper, cracking out between gulps of air. You simply shrugged, the movement bringing about friction between your bodies and causing him to grip your waist tighter. “I've seen others do it, I'm a fast learner.”
“I'm sure they didn't do it quite like this.” Hearing him refer to the situation that you had created, made you pause. Was he going to put an end to it? You were well aware that you had overstepped about a million boundaries and regulations. But even so, he made no move to push you away.
Emboldened by the unspoken consent to continue, you used his shoulder to rest your forearms on, rolling your hips with a single focus to distract him from your intent. It would be remiss to deny that you were also enjoying this. The feeling of his hardening length pushing against your warm core was delightful. No one had touched you since the academy, and even then it had been fumbling drunken hands in the dark.
The tendons on his neck tensed as you dip your head in closer, softly running a finger along the shell of his ear, allowing you access to the other monstrosity on the side of his face. In one quick movement, you slice a sizeable amount off of the second sideburn. He notices this time, hand detaching from the vice-like grip on your waist to reach toward his face. Without thought of repercussion, you slap his hand away. “Let me work,” a wry smile, “sir.”
Oh, that got him.
A groan slipped out of his mouth, low and longer than the previous one. Taking advantage of the moment, you quickly rid him of the offending eyesores on both sides of his face as he pants wantonly against your throat, breath hot against your skin, lips not quite touching. Pressing your body to his, you lean over to rinse the razor off and place it safely on the edge of the sink, leaning back to admire your work.
By now, he must realise that his sideburns have gone and you wait for the ire.
But if Hux is angry, he doesn't show it. He raises one hand up to rub his now smooth face, a frown settling on his brow. You had to wonder, was it the act of shaving that had turned him on, or the thought of a stranger having his life in their hands. You take the towel that had been discarded to the side during his piss-poor attempt to perform the act himself and carefully wipe the remaining cream off of his face, taking special care to dab any flecks of blood that had come from his fresh wound.
A pregnant silence fell over the two of you and the errant thought that you should leave passed by. But the lingering ache that was begging to be addressed was building between your legs, keeping you fixed to this man's lap. As if sensing your deliberation, Hux gripped your waist tighter, one hand slipping lower to cup your ass.
“Don't you even think about getting up, you fucking tease” he growled out, pinning you to his body. You know you should be scared, or even a slightest bit concerned about the danger in front of you, but the part of your brain that dealt with self preservation was under new management. Laughing softly, you stroked his cheek with the back of your fingers.
“They had to go. Else we may not have been in this position.”