There's a trend going around where ppl are getting totally naked and walking up to their partners while they're working on the computer or gaming to catch their reactions. And I'm torn between needing to know your headcanon reaction for Wretch or for Lucas Baker. Or anyone else, but you know those boys are certainly wrapped up in their tech. 💕
>_> I dunno if this is what you had in mind, Tacitpact, but it’s what happened. Just a little drabble with Wrench and LowRes. <3
“Wrench…”
The masked anarchist with oil-stained fingers, commonly referred to as Wrench (or pain in the ass) just mutters behind his mask while fishing something out of an old school NES tray. You glare at him where he sits all cross legged on the bed, surrounded by his array of tools, completely ignoring the fact that you're standing in the hallway of a very empty Hacker House… naked as fuck.
Beads of clean water from the shower you just had roll down your neck, past the slope of your collar bone to the valley between your breasts. It’s almost embarrassing how focused he is on getting whatever crud or nut is lodge in the tray. It would be embarrassing for sure, if you weren’t holding back a laugh because you’ve never been the kinda girl to get all upset over being ignored in favor of objects or video games, but Wrench hasn’t been the kinda guy to pass up on your dripping wet body either.
“How’s it coming with the Nintendo?” You ask instead of moving further into the room, wondering how long it’ll take him to look up and spot you in your birthday suit.
Wrench’s mask emotes turn inward, arrows clenching together as he turns his wrist and the tweezers in a semi circle before a snap of plastic makes him curse.
“Son of a Chocolate Waffle!”
“Bad, huh?” The amusement in your voice goes on thick, because why not? He’s adorable when technology gets the upper hand, but only when it’s something minor like this.
You rub some shower droplets into your bare stomach and lean a shoulder against the door frame. Cool ceiling-fan air pulls your skin into goosebumps and your nipples into points. A puff of husky breath leaves you involuntarily and Wrench pauses for just a millisecond at the sound, making you hitch with anticipation before he hones back in on whatever broke inside the unit.
You imagine his tongue pinched between his teeth and a comical bead of sweat on his brow as he hunches forth, long fingers readjusting his grip on the side of the NES while searching inside once again.
God… how are you getting steamy just watching him toy with a broken video game system from thirty-plus years ago?? Like, yeah, he looks good holding anything tightly but-
“Just-“ Wrench grits out behind his mask, “-a little… deeper! You dirty little...ughrrr!”
A pang of desire resonates beneath your belly button as you rake your teeth across your lower lip. With Wrench, it’s hard to tell whether he’s playing you good or stuck in his own world, but you don’t care either way - the outcome will be the same. Soon you’ll be spanking your ass down in his lap, enjoying the crackles of pleasure Wrench Jr Junior is so damn well at producing. You smile dreamily, idly painting moisture into your stomach and right side with tingles in your fingertips.
Wrench calls the NES a ‘delinquent mind fuck’ while staring at it with pixel underscores.
“Mmhmm,” you moan theatrically and goad him to keep going, “what else is it?”
“Something-something trash that belongs in the bowels of the New Mexico graveyard along with that one game,” he wiggles his micro screwdriver around in a corkscrew pattern as if in deep thought, “... that shitty E.T. one that gave everyone aneurysms.”
You deflate against the door frame, fully dry by now except where you’re throbbing, thinking about a specific dick with a Prince Albert that belongs firmly lodged against your cervix. “That is way less hot than the dirty little rascal or whatever you were on about before. How am I supposed to get off to ‘Atari trash pile’ talk?”
“Off? Who’s getting off??”
Finally, Wrench looks up from his Nintendo with about a dozen plastic scratch marks and beelines bright exclamation-mark-eyes on your naked body like it’s a semi-truck barreling into his face.
About damn time, you think, pushing off the door frame to walk into the room where Wrench is already arm sweeping everything off the bed - including nacho chip crumbs from earlier - as happy-carets alight his display. He looks like a kid accepting a cargo ship full of Halloween candy and in about fifteen minutes, he’s gonna look like he’s in a sugar coma for how much you’re about to treat him.
“Have I ever told you how well you wear Wonder Woman’s invisible leotard?”
You grin, straddle his hips and shrug a shoulder, “I know I haven’t heard you scream it yet.”
