Oh, waking up next to Hunter is always a special moment.
Everyday, you'd hear his steady breathing—a quiet, comforting rhythm behind you—and you'd feel his arm tightening around your waist the moment you stir awake.
Normally, you'd find him still asleep when you turn over to check. But you know he'd wake up immediately once you pressed your lips against his. A little morning routine of yours that never fails to make him smile.
However, today feels different. It seems Hunter was the first one to wake, and you could feel why.
It must be one of those rarer days where he'll rouse himself from sleep with a kind of need only you can fill. A kind of need you can feel pressing up against your lower back, his hips flush on yours, and his ragged breaths hot in your ear.
You'd feel his hands, rough and large, grip your hips firmly. You'd feel his lips ghost your nape. And you'd immediately wake up the moment you hear him say, “Need you right now, mesh'la.”
These kinds of mornings with Hunter always had you skipping breakfast, because the moment he braces himself above you with that hungry look in his eyes, you knew you didn't need to eat in order to be satiated.
He'll take you slowly at first, with a kind of rawness that has your back arching off of the mattress. You'd feel him kiss your neck, growl dark praises against your skin, as he enters you in one slow push—making sure you'd feel every inch through the torturous drag.
He'll start off with a gentle roll, not creating much distance, just grinding himself back into you. Eventually, he'll get impatient. Hungrier. Then, he starts moving faster. Deeper. Rougher. The kind that makes you call his name louder, two syllables broken between choked gasps, but it also means the neighbours can probably hear you.
His strokes become longer, farther, until all that was left inside you was his tip before he's thrusting himself back in. His hands would never leave your hips, and after you've come, he'll turn your lax body over until your spine is arched and his hands are back on your hips.
Then, he'll start again. The first round was for breakfast, the second is for lunch.
Hunter takes you apart in a way you'd forget your duties for the day. Because you knew, you won't leave your room until the sheets are in need of a wash and the room smells like the sin you've just committed. He doesn't stop until you're sobbing into your pillow, hushing you in that smoky rasp of his.
“One more, mesh'la. Just one more for me.”
After the last round—blankets low on his hips, scratchmarks on his shoulders and back—he's watching you try to walk out of bed with that smug grin on his face.
“Need any help, mesh'la?” You'd hear him ask, but his only response was a weak glare you threw at his direction.
“Your fault,” You'd tell him, and watch as his gaze darkens at the way you stumbled again. Something flickers in his eyes, something that shook your legs even more than they already do.
“My fault, huh?” He'll quip, before he's rising from the bed and walking towards you with that predatory gait. “Let me apologize for that.”
Mornings with Hunter will stretch into afternoons if you're strong enough to keep up.
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ECHO
With Echo, your mornings with him are always gentle. The kind that lingers in bed, too lazy to get up yet, just basking in each other's warmth even after the sun has long risen.
Sometimes, you'll be the one hugging him from behind. An occasional shift in your sleeping position, he'd be the big spoon on one night and you'll be the next on another. Right now, your front was pressed against his back, and you could feel his body rise and fall.
You kiss the area between his shoulder blades and feel him tense from the contact. Right after his time in Skako Minor, there are areas in his body that are still sensitive upon touching. That included his spine, so you made sure you're always careful with your touches.
You kiss him there again, softer his time, and he relaxes immediately.
“Morning, cyar'ika.” You hear his voice, low and raspy from sleep, then he takes your hand over his chest and places a tender kiss on your knuckles.
You mumble the same greeting into his back, trailing your kisses up to his nape where you knew he was most sensitive. Most of the time, he’d laugh—claims he’s ticklish there—but right now, his breathing starts to get heavier.
The hand he was holding gets dragged down from his chest, slipping beneath the covers where he places your palm over him—half-hard and throbbing.
You smile, proud of him for expressing his needs. It took him a while to get there, afraid to make you uncomfortable and he was still hesitant for any kind of intimacy. But now, he starts to be more open with his desire and encourages you to be the same.
So, you covered him with your palm and set a languid yet firm stroke through his pants. It immediately makes his hips buck forward, grunting your name quietly, while he strains those two words, “Please, cyar'ika.”
And that was your cue to turn him over. You throw a leg over his hips, straddling him down on the mattress, as you steal his sounds away in a deep kiss.
His hand and scomp are on your thighs, he's leaning up to chase more of your lips, while you start to grind down against him. To hear him groan brokenly, to feel him throb beneath you, to see those lovely eyes of his flutter open—half-lidded and pleading—until you begin to undress yourselves.
Making love with Echo always changes depending on who wants to take the lead. Some days he'll be the one in charge, pleasuring you in more ways than one. And on other days, like this one, he's perfectly content laying back and watching you pleasure yourself above him.
But that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying himself. You could tell the way his pupils expanded, the way he thrusts up into you to match your movements, and the way he praises you through breathless groans.
When he feels you getting tired from how your rhythm falters, he won't waste a second to take charge and roll you over until he's the one above you.
Then, he’ll push himself back inside. Praising you even more for your efforts, kissing you lovingly while he picks up the pace, until the gentleness from the early morning melts away into desperation.
He always makes sure you come first before him. He tells you it's the right way to do it, but you know deep down he loves the way you feel around him when you come undone, because when you do, he releases this strangled noise from the back of his throat before he's following right after you.
When the two of you descend from your high, you'll gaze into each other's eyes and share another kiss. Slow, deep, and full. Like you're pouring your heart into every tilt and sigh.
Then, he'll ask you to stay in bed while he goes up to make the both of you breakfast. When he returns, it's a whole breakfast in bed moment with him by your side, flushed smiles on your faces as the two of you eat.
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TECH
You'd always expect Tech to be up before the sun is awake. You'd wake up to find him leaning against the headboard, datapad in hand, reading current news all across the galaxy.
And you're right, you roll over to find him reading something in his datapad. Thoroughly engrossed as well, as he always was. But there’s something different today. He seems too transfixed with whatever's on his screen.
When you murmur his name, curious and soft, his eyes snap towards you. And you’re mildly surprised at the intensity behind those fogged lenses.
“Oh, good. You are awake. I discovered something quite fascinating, and I wish to test it.”
Without another word, he tosses his datapad aside, slips beneath the covers, and places himself between your thighs—you’re already wide awake and gaping at his sudden action.
Acts of intimacy are a rarity for Tech. Due to his different functionality and processing, he often struggles picking up cues. Especially when it comes to sexual advances. But now, something in him switches, and whatever it was he found on his datapad must be the cause of it.
You were about to ask him what he discovered, when his fingers hook inside your waistband and he was pulling your bottoms off with an indecipherable glint behind his goggles.
“Trust me, my dear. It will be very enlightening for the both of us.”
So, here you were, struggling to breathe properly while Tech expertly pleasured you with his mouth despite being his first time. But the way he did it made you wonder if it truly was.
Every lap of his tongue was thorough. Every harsh suck made you see stars behind closed eyelids. Every time he pushed himself deeper into you, you swore he was going to kill you from his mouth alone.
All it took was his tongue, talented despite his lack of experience, to get you over the edge and chant his name like a prayer. When you finally open your eyes, you're again surprised to see him now hovering above you. And he has the audacity to ask, “Was that adequate?” Even after sending you to another dimension without any prior experience.
The only response you gave him was a smile, before you pushed him aside and placed yourself between his legs as well. The shock on his face quickly vanished the moment you decided to return the favor and took him down your mouth—the sweet breathy exhale of your name was both a reward and fuel for you to continue.
You made sure to give him the same thorough treatment, not stopping until one of his hands was pulling off of him by your hair and he was tugging you upwards until you were seated right above his lap and he was leaning against the headboard once more.
“I do not wish to finish yet,” He states, gaze darkening as he lines up into you. “At least, not in your mouth.”
Chests pressed close, lips molded together, while your hips moved up and down on his hard length. You support yourself with your hands on his shoulders, and he uses this opportunity to grasp your neck in one hand and grip your thigh with the other.
And oh, Tech becomes very vocal when he's close. He doesn't even realize he's babbling nonsense, speaking both praises and pleas. Until his sounds turn needy, half-formed sentences fading into strangled gasps.
When you both fall apart, he pushes you down completely on his lap—letting you take every spend he can release inside—with his face buried in your neck and his arms around your waist.
“That was–” He panted, grunting softly. “An enlightening experience.”
You smiled, kissing his temple and agreeing. “I know more enlightening experiences we can test. If you want to learn more, that is.”
He was already twitching back to life inside you, sealing your fate of a late breakfast.
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CROSSHAIR
Crosshair rarely sleeps for long hours, always the first one to wake and start the day before you, but this morning seems to be one of those rare moments.
But this morning, you stirred awake to him still in bed. You assumed he was still sleeping, except you’re wrong. He's already awake, his breathing isn't steady, his hands are hard on your hips, and his teeth are tugging the shell of your ear.
And oh, the realization startled you awake. You hear his voice, dark and serpentine, trailing after his teeth in a fervent hiss.
“Had a nice dream? I hope so. You were saying my name in your sleep.”
Then, you'd recognize the hard pressure behind you. The unmistakable length of him pressing against your back. You feel him take his rake along your nape, him tugging you flush to his front.
You didn't even realize him slipping your bottoms down, until the cool air hit you and the undeniable arousal between your thighs told you he was telling the truth about your dream. Whatever you were dreaming of, it must've been that good to have you this aroused.
And whatever he heard you say in your sleep must've been the reason why he's growling harshly beside your ear and he's freeing himself from his confines in that instant.
He lifts your leg in one hand, and you shiver at the dangerous drawl of his voice next to your ear. “Don't worry. I plan to make it come true.”
Then, he's sliding himself into you. Inch by inch. You both sigh shakily, and you clutch the sheets in a weak grip. Crosshair pushes himself further until he is flush behind you. You expect him to start moving immediately, but he didn't.
He caresses your hip instead, humming against your neck. “Maybe I should just stay like this. Doesn't it feel nice?” But you don't want nice. You want him to move, but he stays still. Of course, Crosshair would pull something like this.
In retaliation, you simply shrugged. “Yeah, it does. I could fall asleep like this.” You ignore his growl, settling back to sleep again wearing a small smirk. But then, he pulls out of you and slides in deep in a single thrust.
“Don't think you could sleep again,” He continues moving now, and you’re back to clutching the sheets. “Maybe you could. After we're done.”
And so, Crosshair turns your body over completely. Shifts your hips up, slides a pillow underneath, and leans over you with his forearms beside your shoulders.
He enters you again and sets a pace that has you clenching around him immediately. One of his hands covers your mouth, suppressing every high-pitch moan and choked gasp you make.
But he didn't seem to mind his own sounds. Panting harshly besides your ear, cursing through gritted teeth, and biting your shoulder when he gets too loud himself.
These kinds of mornings with Crosshair always leaves you voiceless for the entire day. Being a sniper, he knows damn well which areas to hit in order to neutralize the enemies. In bed, he's no different.
The way he takes you is sharp, precise, and swift. Hitting that same spot again and again, rhythm never faltering, and making sure to change his angle every now and then to bring you closer to the edge.
He doesn't stop to give you a break even after you came the first time. He knows perfectly well how to get you to a second, bringing your hips up and straightening himself to take you faster—one hand on your hip, the other between your shoulder blades.
Right after you come the second time, he turns you over so he can face you and take you again. And only after the third time, Crosshair lets your body melt into the mattress and melts along with you.
“I’ll start lunch,” You hear his voice—raw and hoarse—pressing a tender kiss against your temple. “I promised you sleep. So, sleep. I'll wake you up when it's ready.”
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WRECKER
Oh, mornings with Wrecker always means waking up first to loud snoring, a wall of hard yet warm muscle cuddling up against you, and the occasional mumbling in his sleep.
The space in the bed barely fits you both, but it's perfect since you can hug him closer and feel his warmth radiate from his body.
But this time, Wrecker awakens first and he knows the reason why. He sees you still fast asleep, laying peacefully on top of him, arm and leg thrown over his front. But that isn't the reason why he woke up.
The reason is the big problem under the covers, and how your leg keeps on brushing against him every time you shift. He grits his teeth, cursing quietly so as to not wake up, and wills himself back to sleep replaying mantras in his head.
You move again, mumbling something in your sleep, and your leg presses against his problem which makes him clench his jaw. He's half-tempted to wake you, but decided not after seeing your serene state. After all, he did tire you out after last night.
But it seems like his body is not yet done, aching for you once more. He knows he should let you sleep, so he sighs and closes his eyes to focus on something else.
What he didn't know is that you're awake. You've been awake since you felt him twitch against your leg. You assume it was him flinching in his sleep, a habit he still hasn't gotten over yet since his time as a soldier, but you felt it again.
And now you're just listening to him mutter “don't move, you'll wake her” over and over again. Sweet, strong, and lovable Wrecker. Too pure for his own good.
“Too late for that,” You feel him flinch now and you quickly make a move to straddle him. “You hungry yet?”
Wrecker's eyes widen comically, and you barely suppress your laugh. “Uh, not yet. I mean, kinda, but– How about you?”
You give him an impish grin, tracing a finger from his chest down to his stomach. “I could eat.”
He didn't stop you when you slipped underneath the covers. He didn't make any complaints when you freed him from his confines. He didn't do anything but watch you taste him, touch him, and take him into your mouth. And he didn't contain the groans and curses spilling from his lips the moment you moan around him.
“Stop,” You immediately obey, and freeze when you see the hungry look on his face. “Get up here.”
You haven't even more yet when he hauls you upwards, settling you over him with your legs besides his face. You brace yourself on the headboard, breath hitching as you stare down at him. The last thing you see is his predatory grin, before his mouth connects with you and your eyes fall shut.
Wrecker loves to eat, being the biggest foodie out of all of his brothers, he could finish an entire feast by himself. That isn't any indifferent when it comes to you. The way he does makes your thighs shake terribly, makes your lungs hurt from panting, and makes stars appear behind your eyelids each ravenous lap of his tongue and pleased growl from his throat.
He doesn't stop even when your hands barely have any strength to hold onto the headboard, drawing out your climax after you come hard on his mouth.
Wrecker catches you just in time, dazed and lightheaded, before you fall over the bed. He switches positions, bracing himself above you with his large hands holding your thighs apart.
Still shaking from the intense release, you feel his warm breath kiss your neck and a blunt sensation teases your entrance.
“Hope you're not hungry yet,” Wrecker grunts, sliding himself into you slowly, pinning your legs to the mattress. “Cuz we're gonna be skipping breakfast.”
By the time he’s done, it's already lunch and the others are wondering why you're stumbling into the kitchen and almost tripping on your feet.
Warnings: Suggestive but that's about it.
A/N: So...I know these aren't requests butttt I just am a greedy person who loves to treat myself so what can I say? Requests are still coming, I'm just stumped on a few so please bear with me.
Hunter
Hunter can sense your body heat before you even wrap your arms around him, and he chuckles lightly as you squeeze him tightly, breasts pressing into his back. "What are you up to?" He asks, jolting as your hands slip past the hem of his shirt, wandering along his stomach and sliding up towards his chest teasingly. He can feel the vibrations of your laughter in the expanse of his shoulder, and he's about to turn around when you abruptly pull away, patting him lightly on the ass and leaving the scene as quickly as you came.
Wrecker
Your arms just barely wrap around Wreckers waist, and he giggles softly as you squeeze him tightly from behind. He pats your hands, curiously raising a brow as he looks at you over his shoulder. "Its cute when you do that, baby...but what exactly are you doing?" You answer him by slipping your fingers in his waistband, fingers brushing against the soft hairs of his happy trail as you playfully tease him just right above where he's most sensitive. He grunts before grabbing your hands and twirling you around, pulling you into his chest as he settles his hands against your ass and squeezes tightly.
Tech
Tech leans back in his pilot seat as your arms wrap around his shoulders, soft lips pressing into his cheek in what is a sweet and completely innocent manner. He types a few notes on his data pad from the last mission, barely noticing the way your hands rub his shoulders before drifting lower towards his chest. Its only when your palms encompass his chest, softly squeezing and groping the flesh there, that he finally sets his data pad on his knee and turns to look at you. "Are you...massaging my pectoralis major?" "Man boobs, Tech." "Uh, no. That is incorrect."
Crosshair
Its nothing new to Crosshair when he feels your hands slide up and down the sides of his waist, before curling around his front and settling on his stomach. He's wiping down his rifle, breathing in sync with yours as you press your chest up against his backside, nose nuzzling into the curve of his spine needily. His lips quirk up, thinking he has you beat as your continue your desperate ministrations for his attention, until he feels a sharp nip through his blacks and he yelps, almost dropping his rifle. "What the fuck--did you just bite me?" He whips around, but you detach yourself from him quickly, darting down the Marauder as the echoes of your laughter follow.
Echo
Echo is slowly awoken by the feeling of smooth hands cascading up his shirt, fingers pressing into his abdomen, poking and prodding at his pale, warm skin. He can feel your nose nuzzling further into the crook of his neck, a soft exhale tickling his ear as you continue your tour around his stomach, oblivious to the fact that he's awake. And he would've let you continue, if your fingers didn't brush against his nipples and he was forced to grip your wrists. "I know what you're trying to do," he says, voice raspy and deep. "...just a pinch?" "No."
hunter always needs a few minutes to settle his senses after sex, and it's like the calm after the storm. the wilder and rougher he is, the more overstimulated he gets, and you're right there with him as he collapses his whole body weight on top of you and shudders through his orgasm, groaning deeply in your ear. you hold him to your chest and stroke the back of his head, lazily combing your fingers through his hair, messy from all your tugging. his hard and fast pants come down as he listens to your heartbeat, and you quietly breathe through your post-sex high together. but once he's pulled himself together again, he's back to his caretaker mode. he kisses you slowly, sucking on your bottom lip while untangling himself from your embrace, and presses another kiss to your forehead. "fuck, you did so good. stay right here for me, yeah?" he murmurs, his voice scratchy and hoarse from the moans still echoing through this room. it smells like sex everywhere, and he's almost drunk off this additive as he wipes the soreness between your legs with a warm towel, eyeing the marks and red spots he left behind. his calloused fingertips smooth over your legs, dancing like the twinkle in his eyes. "think we should take it easy next time," he chuckles. you smile deviously and prop yourself up on your elbows. "you worry too much," you tell him. he climbs forward in the bed until he's caging you into another messy, sloppy kiss full of tongue, smirking against your lips. "had a feeling you'd say that."
tech would never label himself as a romantic, but his aftercare says otherwise. he finishes inside of you with a sharp gasp, easing out of his thrusts until he's completely still, pressing his damp forehead to your skin. you're left seeing stars, so freshly fucked that you barely register his lips against yours as he whispers, "just a moment, darling." it's not like you could go anywhere anyway, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't tug on his ego to see your legs completely weak after he's through with you. this is a man who likes being good at things, but also knows he's good at them, too. he runs a bath for you and then carries you toward it, careful as he sets your naked body down in the warm, bubbly water that immediately sinks into all the places he's left you sore and aching. you sigh and lean back, watching him crouch down at the side with a hand brushing through the bathtub to check the temperature. his expression is as neutral as always, but there's a slight blush across his cheeks, the sheepish afterglow he wears adorably. you catch his hand under the water and lace your fingers together. he looks at you. "you're not gonna join me?" you tease, and he clears his throat, somehow nervous after literally wrecking you in bed. "would you like me to?" he asks. "of course." you lean forward and tug on his wrist, bringing your faces closer together. "i promise i'll behave..." you continue. he smiles. "oh, i'm not concerned about that."
wrecker is all about cuddles, cuddles, and more cuddles. he loves being lazy after sex, and it's ironic how a man of his energy—especially while fucking you—just completely flops with exhaustion as soon as he pulls out. but maybe it's because he goes so hard and long that he ends up burying his face in your chest, lightly dozing off already. "mm, you're so soft," he mumbles, "fucking love your tits." he sucks on your nipples and swirls his tongue around the bud, only pausing when you laugh softly and tell him, "wrecker, i have to clean up..." he glances up, suddenly a little more awake. "huh? oh, yeah..." he scoops you up in his arms and brings you to the bathroom, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he drops to his knees and wipes you between your legs, around your body, trying to be as gentle as possible. at one point, he stops and sighs, wrapping his arms around your legs to hug you close. "what's wrong?" you ask. he shakes his head, which rubs his nose against your skin. "nothin', just wanna hold you." your eyes soften. "i'll be out in a minute, and you can hold me all you want." but funnily enough, when he goes back to bed and you remerge from the bathroom, you find him snoring away. and still, as you crawl under the covers beside him, he drapes a heavy arm around your waist and pulls you against him, nuzzling into your embrace with no intention of letting go.
crosshair teases you for not being able to walk properly and uses your lack of energy as an excuse to take care of you. "guess you're stuck with me," he hums with a cocky smirk, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way. anything you try to do yourself like getting a glass of water, hobbling to the bathroom to wash up, putting your clothes back on, he does it for you. he especially enjoys dressing you after sex because he has the power to give you his clothes—a sight he'll never get tired of. the loose fit over your figure, the mess of your hair, the sleepiness in your smile. you have his effect all over you as you rest against his chest, slipping in and out of consciousness while his hands smooth over the top of your head, caressing you to the inevitable slumber that always comes after having sex with him. he knows it's definitely not easy or sweet most of the time, and he thinks about how good you took all that he gave you as he drags his thumb over the tear-streaked corners of your eyes, still damp from the way you cried out and clung to him, begging for orgasm after orgasm. he kisses your forehead and slowly massages your inner thighs, just overall being gentle with you to soothe the soreness you'll feel tomorrow morning. "asleep already?" he hums under his breath. "mmm?" you mumble, and he smiles softly. "never mind..."
echo loves the skinship that comes after sex. he might even enjoy it more than the sex itself. it's more than the touching of your naked bodies—it's the balance between your ability to have fun with each other while being deeply vulnerable. you lie on your sides, and he gazes into your eyes, tracing your face slowly. the room is silent other than your synced breathing, until you whisper, "what are you thinking about?" he kisses you between your eyes and lets his lips rest there, not quite pulling back. "thinking about you," he answers. his voice rumbles deeply with sincerity, but the confession is soft like the way your bodies fold together, not sexually but still intimately. your hand skims down the side of his jaw, leaving goosebumps in the wake of your caress as he continues, "what are you thinking about?" you pretend to think about it with a teasing "hmm" sound under your breath before saying, "well, i am kinda hungry..." and he chuckles, pressing his face into yours closer. you feel him everywhere, even still inside you as the pressure between your legs becomes sore, but his laughter easily consumes your body with a warmth nothing else can replace. "you think you're funny, huh?" he teases in a low tone and squeezes your waist, starting the beginning of a lazy playfight you already know he'll let you win.
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Plot Summary: After Tech wins another riot race whilst on a side mission with you, not only does he win a substantial amount of credits, but he also wins a night with you.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language. Experienced female reader, virgin!Tech, share a bed trope, cuddling for warmth, cunnilingus, blowjob, p in v sex, multiple positions, praising, kissing, soft smut, nipple play, edging, creampie, spanking, aftercare and reassurance, friends to lovers, mutual pining. You get the gist. Not proofread so if you see mistakes 🤫 she/her
Authors note: thank you for the idea @totallyunidentified ❤️
“Hey Tech, look at this.”
You were halfway down the street from the client’s warehouse after dropping off a shipment with Tech when a glowing holo-poster caught your attention. Bright neon letters scrolled across the projection:
RIOT RACING – WINNER TAKES 5,000 CREDITS + A MYSTERY LUXURY PRIZE!
Tech, tucking the credits from your delivery securely into his pocket, stepped beside you.
“I would prefer to stick to my schedule. Hunter expects us back on Pabu by nightfall,” he said, as he flips his visor up on his helmet to read it.
You roll your eyes, audibly “Hunter this, Hunter that. I don’t think he’ll mind if we grab a little fun on the side. Especially if it means extra credits. Do you?”
Tech paused, eyes flicking back to the holoposter. “I suppose not… after all, I was successful on Serolonis.” He states with a sense of small pride.
Your grin widened, practically glowing. “Exactly. And this time, nobody’s life is hanging in the balance.”
Tech tilted his head slightly, conceding the point but only partially. “We would still need to inquire about the application process. I imagine there are restrictions—”
“Already covered,” you interrupted, holding up your datapad with a triumphant flourish. His brows knit in that adorably precise way.
“You signed me up before I agreed.”
“Mm-hm,” you said, rocking back on your heels with fake innocence. “But don’t worry. You’ll thank me when you’re standing on the winner’s podium.”
Tech’s frown deepened, though his lips twitched that were half scolding and half smirking. “You can not simply—”
“Oh, come on, Tech,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly. “If there’s anyone I can always win over, it’s you.”
He opened his mouth, ready to argue the semantics of ‘always’, but then faltered. His silence said it all. You weren’t entirely wrong.
With a faint sigh, one that sounded suspiciously like reluctant amusement, Tech adjusted his goggles. “Very well. But if I crash and perish due to your insistence, you will be the one explaining it to Hunter.”
“Deal,” you said, slipping your datapad into your bag and falling into step beside him. “But you won’t crash. I know you.”
Tech shot you a sidelong glance, “Confidence in one’s abilities is… acceptable. I will endeavor to meet your expectations.”
“Oh, you’ll do more than meet them,” you said, letting your tone dip just enough to hint at friendly mischief. “I’ve got faith in my pilot.”
He didn’t respond, just kept his eyes forward, jaw tight and a subtle shift in his posture.
When the two of you walked to where the race was being held, the pit area buzzed with noise. Engines were roaring and mechanics were shouting. The crowd in the stands thunder with cheers before the race even began.
You stood just off to the side as Tech ran one last diagnostic sweep on his borrowed speeder. As you glance around at everyone else's, pristine and modified, you can’t help but feel he’s been shafted with this old rust-bucket.
He had his helmet off as his fingers moved across the console and you saw the way his eyes glaze over his competitors.
Some of them carried themselves with the air of cockiness, already sharing smug nods and handshakes, as though the outcome was predetermined. And as you take your eyes off him to look at the crowd, there were even many banners made for the other racers. Tech was just a newcomer.
You caught Tech’s subtle frown at the sight, his grip on the edge of the cockpit tightening for just a beat too long.
“Hey.” You stepped closer, your voice pitched just for him. “Don’t overthink it. If you don’t win, it’s fine. This is just a bit of fun. And the credits are only a bonus.”
Tech didn’t look up right away, eyes still fixed on the racers, but his tone carried a quiet protest. “You have not even seen me race before. You are placing faith in an unknown variable.”
That earned a soft laugh from you, “Maybe. But I did hear about your last one. Omega would not shut up about you after you basically saved Cid. Said you were faster than anyone out there. I’m excited to see it for myself, honestly”
That made him glance up sharply. His expression shifted as something uncertain flickered on his features before he quickly masked it. Still, he couldn’t stop the faint warmth creeping across his cheeks. Compliments were… not something he ever really knew how to handle.
Before he could reply, you reached out and brushed your hand against his arm. A small, grounding touch. “Just be careful. And have fun with it, Tech.”
The gentle pressure of your hand lingered against the fabric of his sleeve. His throat bobbed with an unspoken response, but the announcer’s booming voice cut through the moment:
“ALL RACERS TO POSITIONS. THE RACE WILL BEGIN SHORTLY!”
“Well that’s you!” You drop your hand and bend down to grab his helmet, slotting it over his head before he could even fathom what was happening. You also grabbed a comm that you were allowed to use to communicate with Tech during the race.
Your hands lingered on both sides of his helmet as you give him a reassuring nod. “Show them who’s boss.” You wink at him.
As you dash towards the stands, Tech mentally prepares himself as he slides into his speeder.
The crowd roared to life as the racers shot off the starting line, the massive holoscreens above the arena flickering to life with split views of each speeder. You found yourself pressed against the railing, heart hammering as Tech’s speeder swung around the first bend. A wave of boos went up when he cut cleanly in front of one of the local favourites.
You cupped your hands to your mouth and shouted over them, not caring about the dirty looks you get in return. “That’s it, Tech! Show ‘em how it’s done!”
The boos only grew louder when he overtook a second racer. Gasps rippled through the stands and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen.
On the second lap, a crimson-painted speeder sidled up on his left flank. With a deliberate swerve, the racer slammed into Tech’s vehicle, forcing him dangerously close to the jagged wall. Sparks shrieked from durasteel grinding against stone as the racer kept their weight leaned in, determined to destroy Tech.
Your heart lodged in your throat from the stands, but Tech’s voice came through calm and clipped over the comms: “Unrefined and predictable.”
Instead of fighting the push, Tech seemed to calculate the angle and watched the rival racer’s pattern. He eased his throttle and then, precisely at the apex of the next corner, Tech slammed his brakes.
The racer, not expecting the sudden drop in speed, lurched forward, their side panel scraping free of Tech’s hull and straight into the rear of another competitor ahead. A catastrophic collision of sparks, twisted metal and smoke exploded as the two speeders locked together.
Tech shot through the chaos untouched, his patched-up cannons rattling but still holding.
Then, on the final stretch, he pulled a maneouver that made your stomach drop. Engines screamed, one speeder spun out in a cloud of smoke, and Tech slipped neatly through the gap to cross the finish line first.
The arena erupted into chaos! Cheers, groans, stamping feet, but you barely heard any of it. A flutter took root in your chest as you realised just how impressed you were. He wasn’t just good –he was extraordinary.
By the time the announcer declared his victory, you were already pushing your way down the steps back to the track. You weren’t the only one though. A handful of kids darted past you and swarmed Tech before you could reach him.
“Did you see that move?!”
“You’re awesome!”
“Can I have your autograph?”
Tech froze as if they’d hit him with a stun blast, standing stiffly as they tugged at his gloves and legs. His mouth opened but shut again, completely unprepared for this kind of adoration. He took off his helmet and held it against his hip as he spots you, silently pleading for help.
You laughed under your breath, stepping forward to rescue him. “Careful, you’ll knock him over. One at a time.” You placed a steadying hand on Tech’s arm and looked up at him with a grin. “Congratulations. I knew you could do it.”
His gaze tilted down at you, and for a moment the chaos around you seemed muted. The edges of his mouth tugged into the smallest smiles, an expression he almost looked guilty for wearing.
The announcer’s booming voice broke in again. “AND OUR WINNER—THE MYSTERIOUS NEW RACER! COME CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!”
The children scattered as the official strode forward, carrying a heavy case. He handed it to Tech with a flourish, the latch springing open to reveal neatly stacked credits. Five thousand, just as promised.
“And of course,” the announcer added, theatrically gesturing toward the sidelines where a second attendant held up a sealed envelope, “the mystery luxury prize provided by our generous sponsors!”
The crowd whooped as Tech accepted it with a polite nod, still visibly uncomfortable under the weight of so many eyes, while you clapped and leaned closer with a conspiratorial grin.
“See? Totally worth it.”
The roar of the arena dulled into memory as you and Tech slipped through the exit. At his side, the case of winnings bumped gently with each step, but it was the slim white envelope in his other hand that seemed to hold his attention.
He unfolded it as he read aloud: “‘Congratulations. Your mystery luxury prize entitles you to one night’s stay in the Grand Juniper Inn, Penthouse Suite—complete with all amenities and private accommodations.’”
You blinked, a laugh bubbling up before you could stop it. “Wait—you’re telling me the mystery prize is an actual penthouse suite? That’s… that’s ridiculously good.”
Tech only hummed, as though the offer were mildly inconvenient instead of extravagant. “Unfortunately, it will go unused. We are expected to return to Pabu at first opportunity.”
You frowned, lips pursing, until a thought sparked. “You should still claim the prize, Tech. Pick someone to go with you.”
He didn’t even look up from his datapad, fingers gliding rapidly across the display as though your suggestion was just background noise. “Luxuries of that nature are not something I am particularly interested in… nor would I even know who to invite.”
You tilted your head, searching his profile. “What about Phee? You two are, uh… close, no?”
That stopped him in his tracks. His goggles lifted from the datapad and fixed squarely on you, eyes widening behind the lenses. “What makes you say that?”
The sudden edge in his tone made your stomach flip. “I just noticed you’re quite chatty with her, is all?”
Instead of brushing it off, Tech’s mouth pressed into a frown. He didn’t deny it either, which made your chest somewhat tighten uncomfortably for a moment.
“I do not think I will be doing that,” he said at last, turning to walk again. His pace was brisk, decisive.
You sighed and fell into step beside him only for him to suddenly stop. “Would you not want to have it?” he asked abruptly.
“Have what? The prize you won?” A laugh slipped out, half disbelieving.
He adjusted the case at his side, tucking the envelope under one arm. “You were the one who signed me up for the race. Statistically, that makes the victory and its subsequent reward partially your doing. Therefore…” He hesitated, throat working as though he were choosing every word with care. “We could attend together.”
The laugh you’d started to smother came rushing back, light and surprised. “Wait—you’d pick me? Over Phee?”
It was meant as a tease, but Tech stiffened, goggles tilting slightly away. “You have been in my company far longer than she has,” he said at last, voice quiet but deliberate. “That makes you the more valued friend, in my estimation.”
Your grin softened instantly, heart flipping at the blunt sincerity of his words. “Tech, I was teasing,” you admitted gently. “But it sounds fun, so why not? But what about heading back to Pabu?
“I’m sure I will be able to come up with an excuse to prolong our visit here.”
Veering away from the Marauder’s docking bay, you made your way to the Inn. Luckily it wasn’t located too far away from your current destination so getting there was easy enough.
Once you get inside you noticed that the lobby was vast and practically made of all marble and glass. Plush couches lined the waiting area, and a fountain burbled at the center. The receptionist sat behind a curved desk, a man dressed in sharp navy with a too-bright smile that faltered the second his gaze landed on you. His eyes lingered longer than they should have, but you ignored it, standing just behind Tech as he approached the counter.
“We are here to redeem this,” Tech spoke, sliding the envelope across the counter.
The receptionist’s attention flicked reluctantly from you to Tech. He opened the slip, glanced it over, and then back up. “Ah, yes, the Penthouse Suite. And… are the two of you together?” His gaze darted between you and Tech with obvious implication.
You tilted your head toward Tech, curious how he’d handle it.
“No,” he answered immediately, his tone flat with precision. “We are simply two friends.”
The receptionist blinked as though the words had short-circuited his brain. Unbelievably, he leaned forward, eyes still on Tech as if you had disappeared entirely. “Really? Is she single?”
Your mouth fell open, a hot flare of irritation rushing up your spine. “I can answer myself, you know?” you shot back, brows pinched in disbelief.
The man smiled, leaning his elbows on the desk in a way he clearly thought was charming. “Very well, little lady. Are you single?”
Your frown deepened. “No.”
That shut him up. He blinked, recoiling like you’d slapped him, and muttered something under his breath as he fumbled for the room fob. With stiff hands, he slid it across the desk to Tech, avoiding your eye now.
Beside you, Tech hadn’t moved, his goggles fixed squarely on you as though he was running your answer back in his head again and again. Surprise flickered behind his gaze, but he said nothing and took the fob.
“Thank you,” he said curtly to the receptionist, and with a sharp adjustment of his grip on the credits case, he turned on his heel toward the lift.
You fell into step beside him, pulse still thudding from the rude exchange. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Tech sneaking another glance your way and you can’t help but notice the confusion written all over him. But, he kept his questions locked behind his teeth.
The two of you stepped into the lift, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss. You stand with your arms folded loosely, the adrenaline of the encounter at the desk still filling you with irritation. Beside you, Tech stood with his helmet tucked under his arm. He was silent—too silent—and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his mouth part slightly as if he were about to speak.
But then he stopped. Closed his lips again and adjusted his grip on the helmet.
You raised a brow faintly and tilted your head his way. “What?” you asked, voice breaking the stillness. “You were about to say something.”
His hand lifted automatically to fix his goggles, an almost nervous tell. “I was merely going to state that… I was not aware you were in a relationship.” His tone was careful but the words carried a strange weight.
A sharp laugh left you, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m not, Tech.”
That seemed to puzzle him even more. “Then why did you say so?”
You sighed, shifting your weight against the railing behind you. “Because it was easier. If I told that sleazy receptionist I was single, he’d just keep pushing. Saying I wasn’t available was the fastest way to shut him down.”
Tech tilted his head, processing that. “Ah.”
You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Honestly, if you hadn’t jumped in so quickly with the ‘just friends’ comment, I probably would’ve agreed to pretend we were together. Would’ve saved me the headache.”
That made him still like you’d just dropped a wrench into the gears of his mind. His fingers flexed on the edge of his helmet, shoulders drawing a touch straighter. His silence stretched long enough for the lift to chime.
You raised your brows. “What, too shocking a thought?”
He cleared his throat, adjusting his goggles again though they didn’t need it. “Not shocking,” he murmured at last, voice low. “Merely… unexpected.”
Your brows are now knitted togethe, curiosity sharpening. “What do you mean by that?”
Tech shifted his weight, the faintest flicker of discomfort breaking through.
“I simply mean,” he began, his words unusually halting, “that within our unit, scenarios involving… fabrication of relationships, particularly for the sake of infiltration or deception, generally fall to Hunter or Wrecker. They are perceived as more approachable. More desirable.” His tone tightened on that last word, clipped like he wanted to finish quickly and be done with it. “I have never participated in what Omega would call ‘fake dating.’ Nor have I ever been asked to. It is not a role I fit.”
You blinked at him, mouth parting, a dozen retorts sparking in your chest at once. But before you could choose one, before you could tell him how wrong he was, the lift chimed.
The doors slid open with a ding! and Tech immediately strode out without so much as a backward glance.
By the time your boots carried you after him, the words you’d wanted to say they were already trapped back in the lift.
The doors slid open again but this time to the penthouse suite. It was stunning.
Polished wooden floors that gleamed, a wall-length window, curtains so heavy they probably cost more than anything you even own. This was luxury. This was the nicest place you had ever set foot in without contest.
Tech, of course, just adjusted his goggles, scanning the room, “Hm. Pleasant.”
You stared at him. Pleasant.
Your awe evaporated however when your eyes landed on the centerpiece of the suite. The bed.
One bed.
A sprawling, pristine, feather-soft monstrosity, dressed in crisp white sheets and enough pillows to bury yourself in. Your breath hitched in horror rather than delight.
Slowly, you glanced toward Tech, waiting to see his reaction. But he wasn’t even looking. He was already crouched by the wall terminal, scanning the amenities menu. You looked back to the bed, then to the sofa across the room. It was plush yet nowhere near long enough for Tech. Maybe not even for you.
Your stomach flipped. He had won this after all. Logically, he should get the bed. But still…
“…It seems the holoscreen provides a decent selection of archived holo-films,” Tech was saying, tone verging on animated as he scrolled. “Documentaries, historical records, tactical reenactments—fascinating. We could—”
“Tech.”
He glanced over his shoulder, blinking at your tone. “Yes?”
“The bed.”
“The—?” He followed your gaze, goggles glinting as he adjusted them. “Oh. Yes. A single sleeping arrangement.” His voice was utterly calm, as though he was just announcing the weather. He turned back toward the terminal.
You opened your mouth, then shut it again. Was he not… bothered?
But then the thought finally caught up. His head turned back, a faint crease forming between his brows. “…Ah. I understand now why you might find this awkward.”
“You think?”
“Well, as we are not in a romantic relationship, the implication of sharing a bed could be misconstrued. Socially speaking, it would appear unconventional.”
“Unconventional?” you repeated.
“Yes. Though, in terms of practicality, I do not foresee an issue. The area of the mattress is sufficient for both of us to maintain personal space. It is, after all, just a bed.”
You pressed your lips together, fighting a laugh. Just a bed. Leave it to Tech to make the most mortifying situation sound like a logistical problem.
Heat crept up your neck the longer Tech stared at you. You cleared your throat and rubbed your temple, suddenly wishing you could rewind the last minute. “I… guess I made a bigger deal of it than it really is. We’ve been on a ship together for months now, cramped quarters and all. A bed’s not much different, right?”
“Precisely. It is no issue.” His voice softened just slightly, as though to reassure you, but then slipped seamlessly back into his earlier train of thought. “Now, as I was saying, there is quite a respectable archive of films available. If you are interested, we could watch something later.”
That tugged a smile from you before you could help it. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you’d just sat back and watched something for no reason. “Yeah,” you said, tone warm. “I’d like that.”
The two of you drifted into a comfortable silence, breaking off to explore opposite ends of the suite. You wandered toward the minibar, tugging open the cabinet doors and nearly groaning aloud. Rows of tiny gleaming bottles, neatly wrapped snacks, things you hadn’t seen in forever, all laid out like treasure.
“You want a drink?” you called over your shoulder.
Tech looked up from the console where he was still poking at the holoscreen settings. “I don’t see why not.”
You pulled out two glasses, filling them up before carrying them over. He met you halfway and as you offered him one of the glasses, your fingers brushed against his as he took it.
The contact was so brief but it sent a small current through your hand all the same. Tech didn’t react though, he was already tilting his head and inspecting the amber liquid in the glass. You tried to mirror his nonchalance, swallowing quickly and pretending nothing at all had happened.
“Here’s to… mystery luxury prizes,” you quipped, raising your glass.
Tech smiles and touched the rim of his glass to yours. “To mystery luxury prizes.”
Night had settled outside and the two of you had migrated to the couch, half-lounging with your drinks while the holoscreen flickered in front of you. You’d told Tech to put on anything—so he had, naturally choosing some old documentary about… well, you weren't too sure what it was about.
You hadn’t complained, though. Mostly because he’d stripped out of his armour earlier and was now in just his civs. It wasn’t often you saw him without layers of gear, and you couldn’t deny it.. it was a nice view.
The movie droned on in the background as you began to rifle absently through your bag at your feet. Your fingers scraped the bottom, tugged at a spare ration wrapper, then nothing. No sleep clothes. No change of anything. Your stomach dipped a little as you glanced from your half-empty bag to the bed across the suite, then back to Tech.
“Uh… Tech. We should’ve made a quick stop back at the Marauder.”
He looked over., “Why is that?”
You exhaled, embarrassed to admit it. “Because I didn’t pack anything to sleep in.”
For a moment, Tech simply regarded you, one gloved finger lifting to pinch his chin. You could almost hear the calculations turning over in his head. Then he gave a small decisive nod. “I see. Fortunately, I always carry a spare shirt with me. If that is of any help.”
Your brows rose. That was actually perfect. “You do?”
“Of course.” He was already setting his glass aside and heading toward his kit. “It would be illogical not to, given the number of unpredictable environments we find ourselves in. Like this one.”
He produces a folded black shirt and when he held it up, you realised with a tiny flutter of relief that it looked long enough to cover your dignity if you wore it on its own. “Will this suffice?” Tech asked simply, offering it over.
You blinked at it in his hand as the thought of actually wearing something of his own caused your stomach to do an odd flip. “Yeah,” you murmured, taking it. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
Your fingers brushed his again as you accepted it. Once more, he didn’t react, eyes already drifting back toward the holoscreen. But you felt the touch linger long after. What was going on?
You slipped the shirt over your arm, mumbling a quick thanks, and padded toward the ‘fresher. Inside, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.
You look down at the top in your grasp, the soft fabric covering your hands. It had been worn, maybe once or twice since the last time it was washed. You didn’t know what possessed you but the sudden urge to sniff the collar was at the forefront of your mind. “Okay, no. None of that.”
When you stepped back into the suite after tugging it on, Tech turned his head automatically at the sound of your footsteps and paused.
His goggles tilted up, following the hemline of the shirt, then back to your face. He didn’t say anything, of course, but there was a flicker of surprise in the way his brows lifted, just the smallest tightening of his jaw before he looked quickly back to the holoscreen.
You cleared your throat, tugging self-consciously at the hem. “So? Passable?”
“Functional,” he said evenly, though his voice carried a touch more weight than usual. “It is covering, and… suits you well enough.”
You huffed, biting back a smile because for Tech that was practically a compliment. You rounded the couch to reclaim your seat beside him, curling up with your legs tucked under you.
After another hour or two, the glow of the holoscreen faded into the quiet hum of the suite and the promise of a proper night’s sleep tugs at your bones. You stretched with a little groan and turned to Tech. “Bed?”
He agreed and the two of you made your way to the foot of the impossibly plush mattress. You hesitated there, hands still fidgeting at the hem of his borrowed shirt. “Uh… which side do you want?”
Tech’s goggles flicked to the bed, then to the door. “The side nearest the entrance. In the event of an intrusion, it would be more efficient for me to intercept.”
Your eyes widened that he even considered the possibility. “Wait, intruders? You actually think we’re going to be attacked in our sleep?”
“Do you not recall the racer who shouted threats as we departed? While perhaps not statistically probable, dismissing the possibility outright would be unwise.”
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “That was just some sore loser. He probably already forgot about us.” Still, you shrugged. “But fine, closest to the door’s yours. Makes sense.”
You slipped into your chosen side, sinking into the mattress with a sigh. Before you could get too comfortable, Tech excused himself, retreating into the ‘fresher. A moment later you heard the hiss of the shower.
You frowned at the ceiling, suddenly second-guessing yourself. Maybe you should have taken one first. Biting your lip, you furtively glanced around as though someone might catch you in the act, then dipped your chin to sniff under your arms.
Okay.
Fine.
Passable.
The door to the refresher clicked open, and you had to force yourself not to gape. Tech stepped out, towel draped around his neck, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. He was bare from the waist up, abs defined in the soft glow of the suite’s lights, his skin still glistening from the heat of the water.
He rubbed the towel through his hair. “I did not bring a spare sleep shirt,” he explained simply, “as the only one I carried has been… repurposed.”
Your mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “O-oh. That’s… fine.”
“Good.” He gave a curt nod, as though you’d just signed off on a mission report.
True to his prediction, there was just enough room for the two of you when he slipped into the bed. He was an arm’s length away but close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating across the space.
You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Tech was shirtless and in the same bed as you.
It was ridiculous. This bed was easily the most comfortable surface you’d ever laid on, but sleep just wouldn’t come.
You turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, tugged the blanket up to your chin, tried closing your eyes. Nothing. Every nerve ending was aware of him: the sound of his breathing, the faint rustle when he shifted, the way the mattress dipped minutely with his weight.
After what felt like an eternity, Tech finally broke the silence. “I cannot seem to achieve rest either.”
You huffed out a breath, relief mingled with nerves. “Good. I thought it was just me.”
For some reason you spoke without really planning to. “It’s been a while since I’ve shared a bed with anyone. Especially a guy.”
The quiet stretched a beat longer before Tech answered, voice thoughtful. “I have never shared a bed with a woman before.”
That didn’t really shock you. But then he added, “In truth, I have not engaged in any physical contact of that nature at all.”
That, however, surprised you. You rolled your head on the pillow to look at him, though the room was dim. “…At all?”
His reply was simple. “No.”
You sat with that for a moment, lips parting, before a little half-laugh escaped you. Gentle, not mocking. “Does it bother you?”
“I am not saddened by it,” Tech replied, though you could hear the defensiveness layered beneath. “It is merely fact.”
You hummed, remembering his words from the lift earlier. “Still… you shouldn’t put yourself down about not being desirable. That’s just not true.”
There was another long silence before his voice reached you again, softer now. “Do you, as a woman, find me desirable?”
Your breath caught, pulse jumping as if he’d just asked you the most dangerous question in the galaxy. Slowly, you rolled over to face him.
His goggles were gone. In the dim light, you could see the faint lines pressed into his skin where they’d rested for so long, the almost-bruised marks framing his sharp features. He was lying on his back, his head turned toward you, watching with a stillness that made your heart hammer.
You bit your lip, the tiniest tremor in your hands as your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. Your voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the honesty. “Yes. I do.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, and you caught the faintest rise of his chest. For once, he didn’t immediately follow with data or analysis. He just lay there, taking in your answer.
A sudden draft crept through the room, the kind that felt sharper for no reason at all, and you instinctively curled tighter beneath the thick duvet. It helped but not enough. The chill still found its way in, raising goosebumps along your skin. You tucked your knees up slightly and huffed a faint breath.
Beside you, Tech shifted, as though aware of your discomfort. His voice came carefully, almost like he was stepping across uncertain terrain. “If you are cold,” he began, “I could suggest… you move closer.”
Your eyes flicked toward him again, half disbelieving and half amused. Was he actually flustered by his own idea? He certainly looked it—the faint furrow in his brow, the way his mouth tightened like he already regretted saying anything. You held back a smirk, deciding not to make it harder for him, and instead scooted across the mattress until your arm brushed his.
The proximity startled him; you could tell by the slight jerk of his breath. Your head almost rested on his pillow instead of your own, and the warmth radiating from him was immediate.
“I… ah,” he cleared his throat, his voice defaulting into lecture mode, “the human body naturally regulates temperature through thermogenesis. Shared contact, particularly within a confined space, is proven to be efficient for conservation of heat. In fact, there are studies showing—”
But you weren’t listening. Not really. His words blurred into a gentle hum as you inched closer, soaking in his warmth, and then another shiver chased down your spine when a fresher wave of cold air brushed over you.
This time, Tech noticed. His body turned toward you, his long frame shifting until he faced you fully. His voice was quieter now, “Would it… would it be permissible if I put my arm around you?”
You swallowed, your teeth almost chattering from the lingering chill, and nodded quickly. “Please.”
There was a beat of hesitation but then his arm slid around you and drew you closer into the steady warmth of his chest. The duvet tucked around both your bodies more snugly, and finally, the cold ebbed away.
His touch wasn’t practiced. It wasn’t smooth or bold. But stars, it was earnest. And it made your pulse quicken more than any confident gesture ever could.
He closes his eyes and hesitantly, you felt his hand begin moving in slow, steady strokes along your back. Up, then down: Soothing and almost hypnotic.
You let your hand settle against his chest in return. Your fingertips traced soft patterns, absent-minded little swirls and glides, until you found yourself focusing on the pounding thud of his heart. It was racing. He was as wound up as you were.
But neither of you commented on it.
The duvet cocooned you in shared warmth, but the real heat was coming from him and from the bare skin of his chest beneath your fingertips.
Then, your lips hovered near his neck, close enough to feel the shiver that went through him, and in a whisper you said, “It was fun watching you race today.”
His eyes stayed shut as if he was afraid to open them. His hand paused for a fraction before moving again, slower now. He said nothing, but the way his throat worked, the way his chest lifted under your touch — he’d heard you.
So you leaned closer, lips brushing the sharp line of his jaw, and let the truth spill out, quiet but cutting through the dark.
“It kind of turned me on.”
His breath hitched hard, a sharp inhale that shook against your ear. The hand on your back stilled completely, fingers pressing into you like he needed to anchor himself. Then, slowly, he drew you tighter to him until your whole body molded against his.
Chest to chest. Bare skin to fabric. His heat seared through you.
“Y-you…” His voice cracked, faltered, as if he couldn’t make the words obey him. “You found that arousing?”
You bit your lip, thighs pressing together without thinking, and whispered, “Yes.”
His eyes opened at that and his expression… stars, you’d never seen him look like that before. Wide-eyed, dark, almost disbelieving.
Something broke loose in him. The logical walls. The self-doubt. All of it.
The shift was subtle at first, almost like you were just getting more comfortable — until one of your legs slid over his, draping heavy and close, pulling you nearer. His thigh pressed up between your legs, higher than you expected. The contact made your breath stutter, a low sound nearly slipping free as you tried to hold it back.
Stars, you should’ve known better than to take off your panties when you’d slipped into his shirt. Now, every tiny move had you trembling.
You buried it under words, quiet praise that slipped from your lips. “You really were incredible today… I mean that.”
Tech’s breathing grew unsteady, shallow but quick, as if every tick of silence pushed him closer to a decision.
His hand rose, brushing gently through a lock of your hair until he tucked it neatly behind your ear. His fingers lingered, the pads trembling faintly but then his palm curved against your cheek.
The caress stole the air from your lungs. His fingers start to travel, his eyes trained on wherever his digits land. And when it grazed your lips, the sensation was enough to make you part them just slightly. Without thinking, you let them purse against his thumb, the smallest, silent invitation.
His eyes snapped up to search yours, gauging every detail and scanning for refusal but found none.
Then, with a breath he didn’t seem to know he’d taken, Tech leaned in and kissed you.
At first, it was only a brush. Lips barely touching, pulling back, then meeting again with hesitant and shaky breaths. It was as though either of you could startle and retreat at any moment. But neither of you did.
The kiss deepened slowly and you found yourself chasing the shape of his mouth, pressing a little firmer each time. His hand, the one cupping your face so carefully, slipped lower with an almost reluctant drag. It curved down the line of your jaw, traced along your neck, then settled all the way down at your hip. The weight of it grounded you until, with a cautious tug, he drew you flush against him.
A shiver ran down your spine at the contact, your chest rising against his. You shifted, your leg tightening where it lay over his until you could press yourself even more against his thigh. The sudden friction made you hot and needy. You swallowed down the sound that rose in your throat, but a small moan still escaped, muffled against his mouth.
Tech froze for half a second, the noise shocking him, but then his lips moved more urgently against yours. His hand squeezed your hip once, anchoring you there, before his thumb began stroking in slow, restless circles at the hem of his own shirt draped over your body.
His thigh stayed firm between yours, and without meaning to, you ground against it again, softer this time, yet still desperate enough that your breath caught and broke against his lips.
Your fingers curled tighter against his chest when his hand began to wander higher, slipping beneath the thin fabric of the shirt you wore. His hand shifted lower and his breath hitched sharply when he realised bare skin greeted him where fabric should have been.
The sound that left him was barely there, more like a stifled groan pressed into your kiss, but you felt it all the same. His palm lingered against the curve of your arse, squeezing instinctively before he jerked back as if burned.
Your lips parted with his retreat, plump and swollen from the kissing, and heat rushed to your face. “Is this…” his voice was husky, unsteady, “is this all right?”
You blinked up at him, chest rising and falling against his, and nodded before words could even form.
Something flickered in his gaze — relief, hunger, disbelief all tangled together. Then, with a low sound that might have been your name under his breath, Tech surged forward again, chasing your lips.
This time there was no hesitation in the kiss. His mouth was hot and greedy against yours, his hand sliding back over the curve of your body as though he needed to feel you, to confirm that this was real.
You shifted with a rush of boldness, swinging a leg over until you were straddling him fully. Tech startled, a muffled sound caught in his throat as he instinctively sat up to meet you, his hands catching at your hips
Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of him and you couldn’t resist giving an experimental grind of your hips against his lap. The response was immediate as you felt him stiffen beneath you, the hard line of his cock straining through the thin barrier of his clothes.
His breath caught audibly, a low, broken noise escaping his lips as his fingers dug tighter into your hips. You smirked, leaning in until your lips brushed the shell of his ear.
“Fuck,” you curse, your voice warm and teasing, “you feel… big.”
His entire body seemed to jolt at your words, a flush creeping up his throat as though you’d just short-circuited his entire brain. “I—” he started, but the words faltered into a strangled exhale when you rolled your hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging along the rigid length beneath you.
You smiled against his lips, savouring the shudder that went through him. Tech swallowed hard, his hands trembling as they gripped your waist tighter, torn somewhere between stopping you and begging for more.
You pulled back from the kiss with a wet parting sound, your tongue dragging languidly across his lower lip before letting go. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. His wide, startled eyes locked on you as though he wasn’t entirely convinced this was real.
Your fingers toyed at the hem of the borrowed shirt, tugging it up just an inch, then letting it fall again in playful teases. His gaze followed every flick of movement.
“Do you want to see more of me, Tech?” you purred, your voice sultry.
He swallowed so hard you saw the muscles in his throat jump, his lips parting as though the words were stuck in his chest. For a moment he just stared, stunned silent, before he nodded quickly.
He even rubbed at his eyes once with the heel of his palm, as though trying to confirm this wasn’t some fever dream.
You couldn’t hold back a smirk. “So polite,” you teased, your voice low as you hooked your fingers under the hem and began to lift. His breath caught audibly.
The shirt slid up inch by inch, his eyes devouring every bare strip of skin you revealed, hunger written across his face as though he were starving. You could practically feel his restraint pulling taut. And then, with one slow, deliberate movement, you peeled the fabric over your head and tossed it aside.
Your breasts fell free, soft and full, bouncing slightly with the motion, your nipples already tight and aching. Tech’s breath hitched sharply as his eyes snap to your chest, then back to your face, as though he wasn’t sure where to look, too overwhelmed by all of you at once.
You were completely bare for him.
The air felt cool against your skin, but his gaze was molten heat and burning over you. His mouth opened slightly, a quiet, choked sound escaping before he bit down on his lip, as if that might keep him grounded.
His mouth practically watered at the sight of you, his hands twitching at your hips as though he didn’t dare move them without permission.
Tech pulled back slightly, the flush in his cheeks deeper than before. “I’ve never…done anything like this before,” he admitted, voice low and hesitant.
You let out a soft giggle, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I know, Tech,” you whispered, your fingers brushing along his jaw. “But, do you still want to?”
“I do.”
Your chest swelled at the certainty in his tone, heart thudding in your ears. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “May I touch you?”
The simple words nearly made you melt, a soft whimper escaping as your knees pressed closer against his. You leaned in, voice barely above a breath, “Yes… touch where feels right to you.”
His hands were warm, trembling slightly, as they found your face and cupped it gently. The touch was reverent and your knees went weak beneath you. He could have touched you anywhere, but he chose your face.
The kiss was entirely different this time. His tongue nudged against yours, probing gently at first, begging entrance, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your throat. Your hands twined into the nape of his neck, guiding him closer as the kiss deepened, your hips pressing flush against his lap.
Every touch, every press of lips and tongue, was a lesson and a thrill. For you, his inexperience only makes the heat between you more intoxicating.
Tech’s lips started to drift lower, tracing a slow, warm path along your jawline. Your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping as he nuzzled against the softness of your skin.
“Maker, you’re… sensitive,” he whispered, almost in awe as you let out a small whimper when his kisses moved to your neck.Your body shivered at the intimacy, a hand threading into the short hair at the back of his neck to pull him closer.
Then he moved lower, just at the swell of your breasts, pausing for a heartbeat. One large hand cupped your chest, “You’re incredible,” he murmured against your skin before placing tender, featherlight kisses across the curve of your breast.
A giggle bubbled from your throat at his delicate approach, but the moment his lips met your nipple, the teasing and testing, your head fell back, and a soft moan slipped past you. His tongue flicked lightly, almost experimentally at first, gauging your reaction, and you could feel him twitch below you at the sound you made.
“Does that feel good, darling?” he asked, breath warm against your skin.
“Yes…” you murmured, your voice trembling. “It feels… perfect.”
Encouraged, he grew bolder, swirling his tongue around the nipple, sucking gently while teasing with soft, precise flicks. You arched into him, letting your hands wander to his shoulders, your fingers digging.
He paused, lifting his head to see your reaction, then whispered huskily, “I like this. I want to make you feel… everything.”
You shivered at the confession, letting him continue, your own moans growing more insistent as his mouth continued to worship the other breast in the same attentive, teasing rhythm.
“Tech… please… don’t stop,” you breathed, hips shifting minutely against him as he explored your reactions, learning what made you shiver, what drew your moans, and what made your fingers clutch at his shoulders in desperate need.
His inexperience lent an almost reverent quality to his touch; slow, precise, tentative yet full of intent. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, and every tender nibble feels deliberate and intimate.
You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the heat pooling between your legs, each sound of pleasure from your lips only urging him further.
Unable to resist, your own hand drifted down, fingers sliding slowly over the slickness gathering between your thighs. The warmth and pressure of his lips and hands made the sensation almost too much to bear. A soft, breathy moan slipped past your lips as you began to rub yourself lightly.
“Mmm Tech… your lips… your hands… they feel so… good,” you whispered, voice trembling with need. Each word seemed to spur him on.
A thumb circled your nipple with a slower, firmer rhythm now, and he added gentle pinches, testing your reactions. You gasped, arching into his touch, letting him feel how responsive you were. “D-don’t stop…” you murmured, your own fingers circling your clit.
He paused just briefly to watch your reactions, eyes wide and fascinated, and murmured lowly, “You’re responding beautifully."
Your moans grew a little louder, shaking, but still soft enough to feel intimate in the quiet of the suite. You leaned into him, lips brushing his jaw as you whispered, “You… you’re making me… feel so good.”
He adjusted, one hand slipping lower to graze your hip and side while his lips and tongue alternated between both breasts.
You could feel your own fingers moving faster, slick coating them as you drew yourself closer to the edge, every flick of his tongue sending shivers through you making you shiver uncontrollably.
Your voice grew shakier, soft gasps and moans falling from your lips, your words scattered, “Tech… right there… mmm… ah… just like that… yes…”
You pressed your hands against his jaw, gently but firmly guiding his lips away from your breasts. The sudden loss of contact made your body shiver. Not yet.
You let your chest rise and fall, gasping softly into his mouth.
“I want to save it,” you breathed, lips brushing his as you looked into his eyes. “Do you want your cock sucked?”
Tech blinked, momentarily caught off guard, his composure faltering under the haze of arousal. His voice came out low, hoarse with desire: “I… I… yes… I want that,” he admitted, a heat creeping to the tips of his ears.
The combination of his hesitance and desire made your pulse spike, and you leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his, lips just hovering over his as you whispered, “Then let me show you how good it can feel.”
You could feel his heart hammering against your chest as he adjusted slightly beneath you, anticipation and nervousness radiating off him in waves. Every small movement of your body, every subtle flick of your fingers over his skin, had him tense and waiting. You smiled softly, enjoying the heady mix of shyness and lust that clung to him.
Moving carefully between his thighs once he freed himself, you brush a hand over him. Tech’s cock is hot in your grip, swollen and throbbing with the head already glistening and begging for attention. You can see his uneven breaths as he watches you with a mix of awe and desire.
“You’re so perfect,” you murmur, fingers curling around him and giving a gentle squeeze. The words make him shiver under your touch, and you can’t help but smile at the way his hips twitch against your hand.
Leaning in, you lick your lips, letting your warm mouth hover just above him. Slowly and deliberately, you wrap your hand around the base again and move it up and down in tandem with teasing motions and a low, startled groan slips from him.
Heat rises in your own chest as you watch his reactions. His hands clench at the sheets, the slight trembling of his hips betraying how much he’s enjoying this. You take your time, tracing soft, warm circles with your fingers as your mouth hovers closer, letting the tension build with every deliberate stroke.
Tech’s voice comes out shaky, hesitant, but full of desire: “I never knew y-you were such a tease.” His jaw goes slack, head tilting to the side as he watches you. “I’ve never…felt like this before.”
You hum softly, “Let me show you,” you murmur, before slowly closing the distance, lips brushing against the tip.
You can see the way he’s struggling to stay in control, every shiver and hitch of his breath a testament to the pleasure you’re coaxing from him.
Tech’s hand hovers over your hair, uncertain, as if he’s both eager and afraid to interfere. His breathing staggers as you finally take him in—slow, shallow, just the head at first. You wanted him to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.
“Tech…” you moan needily against him, tongue flicking softly over the sensitive tip. His hips jerk involuntarily, a surprised groan slipping past his lips.
You then let your mouth close over him again with a slow motion, sliding just a little farther down this time. His eyes close, brows furrowing. Every small movement makes him tremble against your lips, and you can feel how hard he’s already grown.
“You’re amazing,” he gasps softly, voice almost a whisper. His hands finally move, gently pressing your head closer, guiding you but hesitating with each careful motion, as if afraid to overstep.
You hum around him, the vibration making him shiver. “Just relax… let me take care of you,” you whisper. His body responds immediately, hips shifting slightly, pressing into your mouth despite his attempts at restraint.
When you glance up at him, you're almost breathless.
His eyes half-lidded, sweat beading at his temple and breaths coming fast. You give a teasing swirl with your tongue, letting your lips slide over the sensitive head before backing off slightly, giving him a moment to adjust. His hand twitches, gripping your hair a little more firmly, guiding you almost instinctively now. “Darling,” he groans and then whimpers your name deliciously.
You smirk against him, now letting your hand mirror your mouth. You stroke him slowly as you then start to take more, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The combination of your hand and mouth makes him shiver violently, a strangled groan escaping him as he slowly loses more control.
Tech’s mind seems to whirl as every touch you give him brings another tremor, another gasp. His eyes search yours as if to make sure this is okay, and you give him nothing but encouragement.
“I… I can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs, voice low and strained, not used to saying things like this but desperate to let you know. His words make your stomach flutter, and you give him a small, teasing smile.
“I can’t wait to let you,” you purr as you change tactics and slide down just a touch. Softly, your lips brush against the sensitive skin of his balls. His breath catches with a surprised sound as you take one into your mouth, sucking sweetly
Tech brings one hand to your shoulders, gripping as he lets out a shaky moan. “Ah—fuck… that’s perfect,” he stammers, voice trembling as he shifts slightly, pressing closer.
You hum around him, rolling him gently between your lips. Every careful movement draws another sharp intake of breath, another strangled groan from him, and you can feel the shiver running down his spine.
“Such a pretty mouth,” he whispers as his hips twitch involuntarily. You take it slow, letting him adjust to every sensation, rewarding his words with gentle, teasing licks and slow, deliberate suction.
You lift your head just enough to look at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I like hearing you talk like that,” you tease, gently kissing his inner thigh and giving him a moment to breathe. Though the tension in his body makes it clear he doesn’t want the pause to last long.
He swallows hard, eyes dark with want, a faint quiver in his chest. “Don’t… stop,” he whispers, almost pleading.
You move your lips back to his cock, groaning against him as you move your head up and down. “I… I can’t—” he starts but then chokes off into a strangled groan. His hips jerked again, betraying the rapid pulse of pleasure building.
He whines in a way that’s both desperate and sweetly innocent, his chest rises and falls so fast you know he’s close.
“Please… I—fuck—don’t stop,” voice strained and words tumbling over each other, his control slips. You hum around him, letting your lips tighten just slightly, rewarding him with that pressure, his hands clenching your hair in desperation.
He thrusts into your mouth despite his attempts to hold back, and his voice breaks into loud, shaky moans. “Ah! Oh stars, fuck.” The words trail off as he loses control entirely, his release spilling hot and thick into your mouth. You don’t pull back, letting him ride out every pulse, your hands still steady and attentive, coaxing him through the overwhelming wave.
He collapses back slightly, breath ragged as stars cloud his vision. Hands were still tangled in your hair whilst he was unable to speak for several long seconds. You swallow every drop, panting softly as you release him.
Tech’s eyes were half-lidded and glazed with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I didn’t warn—” he starts, but you cut him off with a soft laugh, pressing your forehead to his. “Shh… you did amazing,” you murmur. His hand moves to your hip, still lingering as if needing your presence to ground him.
For a few minutes, you simply lie there beside him, letting the heat of your bodies and the rapid pulse of his heartbeat calm down. Tech’s free hand finally drops, resting gently over yours that sat on his chest.
“My turn.”
Tech got off the bed and then suddenly, he reached down and grabbed you with such strength and care, he lifted you into his arms. In a blur you were off the bed and across the suite, your back pressing to the cool surface of a wide dining table as he set you down. His eyes burned, unblinking, as if he’d been possessed by a thought too intoxicating to ignore.
“I have always fantasised about this,” he admitted breathlessly, his lips curling as he licked them, gaze dropping between your thighs. “Enjoying… oral sex with a woman laid out before me, like this.”
Your breath caught, heat scorched across your face and spread down your chest as his hands slid up and down your legs.
You watch in awe as Tech dragged a chair forward and sat down, sliding close until he was level with your hips. He looked like he’d been presented with a feast.
“I must warn you,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, “I am not an expert. But I am a quick learner.”
You were about to reply, to reassure him, but your words were swallowed in a sharp gasp when his tongue darted out, running a long, wet stripe up your folds.
“F–fuck, Tech—” your back arched, hands flying to clutch the edge of the table.
He groaned at the taste, his eyes closing. Then, his lips latched onto your clit, sucking with gentle, exploratory pressure. He hummed against you as though testing the reaction, adjusting the angle of his tongue, cataloguing every twitch and moan you gave him.
One of his hands slid higher, holding you open for him, while the other pressed lightly against your hip to keep you from squirming away. He pulled back just for a second, voice low and rough with desire:
“You taste incredible.” He cooed, kissing your pussy briefly, “I must have more.”
And then his mouth was on you again, hungrier this time, his tongue moving in firmer strokes as though he couldn’t get enough of you.
His lips sealed over your clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking in short desperate bursts that had you crying out. He moaned into you at the sound, messy slurps filling the room as though he didn’t care how unrefined it was.
“Tech, baby...” you gasped, unable to stop yourself.
The single word had his entire body twitch, his hips shifting against the chair as though you’d jolted him with a live current. He pulled back just long enough to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, saliva glistening where his mouth had been. His breathing was ragged, lips swollen.
“‘Baby’,” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “You called me ‘baby’. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
He ducked back down, sucking at you hungrily. His tongue flattened, dragging long strokes up your pussy before circling your clit, then back again, never settling in one place for long. It was clumsy and perfect.
Then, with his lips still latched around you, you felt his finger sliding up, hesitating at your entrance. He pulled back, his voice trembling but firm.
“if I may,” he whispered, kissing just above your mound, his nose brushing you, “I want to give you more. I want to feel you… inside.”
“Do it,” you whimpered, hips rolling up toward him.
His breath shuddered, and then he pressed his finger slowly into your heat, his lips returning to your clit as though he couldn’t bear to leave it.
“Oh… you are so tight,” he groaned, almost to himself, his forehead pressing to your thigh. “My hypothesis was correct. You feel indescribable. Better than anything...”
Your toes curled, thighs shaking as his finger began to pump, careful but eager and curling as though searching. He muttered against your skin between hungry licks:
“Tell me… what you need. Tell me how to perfect it. I want to learn you—completely.”
Another moan ripped from you, and you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as you gasped, “You’re perfect already, Tech. Kriff, you’re making me lose my mind.”
He groaned into you, the sound vibrating right through your clit, his messy mouth and that insistent finger making your whole body quake. You could feel how careful he was, how he paid attention to every gasp, every twitch of your thighs. But as your hips rolled, greedily seeking more, something inside him snapped.
His motions quickened, from measured strokes to sharp thrusts that made your breath stutter. A second finger slipped inside before you even registered it, stretching you deliciously as his mouth sealed back around your clit.
“Tech—oh f–fuck, Tech!” you sobbed, your nails scraping the table as his fingers pistoned in and out, faster, harder, the wet slap of his palm against your cunt echoing through the suite.
He pulled back just enough to gasp against your soaked folds, his voice rough and wrecked: “Grind on me. Grind that perfect pussy against my hand, against my mouth. I want you to use me. Please.”
The raw desperation in his tone made your stomach twist with heat. Your hips obeyed before your mind caught up, grinding down on his face, against the thrust of his fingers, slick smearing over his chin.
“Cum for me. Cum on my face—please, I need it, I need to taste it.”
That was it. You broke.
Your cry tore through the room, high and raw as your body seized, your thighs clamping around his head. He held you down, his fingers thrusting mercilessly, his mouth latched to your clit as if he’d die without it. White-hot pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave crashing until you thought you’d unravel entirely.
He moaned into you like it was his own release, his lips soaked wet as you rode out every last tremor against his hungry mouth and eager fingers.
And still, even as you shook and whimpered from the overstimulation, he whispered into your slick folds:
“You taste exquisite.”
Your body still quivered from the orgasm when Tech finally pulled his mouth from you. His eyes are wild and yet tender.
He stands as you sat up on the table trying to catch your breath as he gently steadies you, his thumbs stroking your waist. His sweetness disarmed you, even in the haze of lust.
“How… did I do?”
Your heart fluttered. Maker, this man. Even with his mouth still glistening from you, he was innocently asking for feedback. You smiled lazily, brushing his jaw.
“You were perfect, Tech. Better than perfect.”
He wipes his face and leans in slowly, kissing your lips so sweetly you could cry.
You gasped softly when you felt his cock, hot and heavy, brushing against the inside of your leg as if demanding your attention. You bit your lip, eyes dragging down to see it. Long, flushed, desperate. Your thighs clenched in anticipation.
“I’m ready,” you then whispered, voice soft as you met his gaze again. “If you are.”
His breath stuttered, but his grip on your waist firmed, pulling you closer to the table’s edge. One hand shifted lower, guiding himself, his cock sliding up and down your soaked folds. The friction made you whimper, made your hips chase him instinctively.
“Stars, Tech,” you moaned, nails curling into his shoulders. “I couldn’t have imagined us end up fucking like this.”
A sound left him, half a laugh, half a groan. He leaned down and captured your mouth in a kiss, swallowing the heat of your words, his tongue moving with uncharacteristic boldness against yours.
You thought he was about to push into you, every nerve sparking with anticipation as the thick head of his cock nudged your entrance. But instead, he drew back suddenly. Without warning, his arms slid under you, lifting you off the table.
You gasped, clinging to him, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
“Tech—!” you laughed breathlessly.
“I want you comfortable,” he said with quiet determination, carrying you as though you weighed nothing.
Your stomach swooped as he carried you back to the bed, your body pressed tight to his, his cock brushing against your thigh with every step. You purred, voice husky with both admiration and lust. “Didn’t know you were this strong,” you teased, your lips brushing his ear.
He laid you down gently on the mattress, his body hovering over yours. His eyes drank you in like you were his whole galaxy. “Strength,” he murmured, crawling over you, “is not exclusive to the battlefield.”
His cock pressed against your folds again as he settled between your legs, and you shivered, your hands running over his bare chest.
Tech positioned himself with such intent it made your breath hitch. His cock nudged against your entrance again, slick and hard, and this time he didn’t pull back. He held himself steady with one hand braced on the mattress by your head, the other guiding his length but his eyes never left yours. “I am going to proceed slowly,” he whispered, voice thick, like he was trying to talk himself through this moment. “Tell me if it is too much. Please.”
You nodded quickly, already trembling with anticipation.
And then he pressed forward.
The head of his cock stretched you open, dragging a whimper from your throat as your head fell back into the pillows. Inch by inch, he slid inside, his jaw dropping open as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling.
“Oh… Maker,” he exhaled as his whole body shuddered, hips stalling for a moment as your walls clenched around him. “You are—gods, so warm. It is—” he broke off with a ragged moan, lowering his forehead to your shoulder.
Your fingers dug into his back, nails raking lightly over his trembling muscles. “Tech—Tech, please… move,” you whispered, your voice wrecked. “I need you to.”
He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes wide and searching, like he was memorising every twitch of your expression. His hips rolled slowly, easing himself deeper until he was fully seated inside you. You gasped, clutching him closer.
“Perfect,” he breathed, his words hot against your ear. “You fit me perfectly, mesh’la. As though you were designed to. I cannot…” His breath hitched as he began to withdraw slowly, the drag of his cock sending sparks through your body. “…I cannot believe this is real.”
You moan softly which spurs him on. “You make such beautiful sounds,” his voice trembles with reverence and lust all at once. His pace stayed slow, almost torturous. “Each one… mine. All mine.”
“Tech—” you whimpered, scratching lightly down his back again, hips rolling to meet his. “Feels so good, baby, please—harder, I can take it.”
His lips parted, and he let out a groan so raw it made your walls flutter around him. He gasped, thrusting just a little deeper and a little firmer.
Your hands slid up to cup his face, pulling him down into a desperate kiss, moaning into his mouth as his cock filled you again and again.
Your teeth caught his lower lip in a gentle bite, nothing more than a tease, but it undid him. Tech’s breath stuttered against your mouth, his hips rolling instinctively, burying his cock deeper in the slick heat of your pussy. His whole body pressed flush against yours, his weight grounding you, as though he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.
“Fuck, mesh’la,” he whispered against your lips, the word in Mando’a rumbling like velvet from his chest. His hips moved in slow, controlled thrusts, every drag of his length inside you tender but devastating. “So beautiful.”
He kissed along your jaw and throat, until he reached the swell of your breasts again. With a shaky groan, he cupped one in his hand and bent to kiss it, lips brushing featherlight across your hardened nipple. You gasped at the touch, your fingers tangling in his hair instinctively.
“Ohh, Tech—” you moaned softly.
He hummed against your skin, the vibration making your nipple pebble harder before he opened his mouth, tongue swirling in an experimental circle. He flicked over the peak, then drew it between his lips and sucked gently. The sensation ripped a whimper from your throat, your hips lifting to meet his.
“Darling,” he whispered in awe, switching to your other breast with careful attention, licking and kissing the hard peak as though it were something to be worshipped. “I have… dreamed of this. Dreamed of you…of having you this way.”
His words spilled out without thought, unfiltered confessions meant only for you. At his admission, your pussy clenched tight around him, squeezing him so hard he groaned against your breast. His hips faltered, stuttering inside you, before he dragged back in slow, sweet thrusts again.
“Oh—fuck, baby,” you whispered breathlessly, clutching his head closer to your chest as your body trembled under him. “You’ve dreamed about me? About us?”
His tongue dragged wetly across your nipple again, followed by another suck that made your toes curl. He pulled back just far enough to pant.
“Yes,” he admitted in a husky whisper, his hips rolling deeper as though to emphasise the truth. “Every night I wanted to know how it would feel to be inside you. To feel you—clenching around me like this.” His lips sealed back around your breast.
Your head tipped back into the pillows, a soft cry breaking free as his words hit you as hard as his cock did. The tenderness of his pace, his whispered Mando’a, his lips at your chest.
“Tech,” you breathed, cupping his jaw and forcing his brown eyes to stay on yours. “Let me ride you. Please, I wanna ride your cock.”
His eyes widened, lips parting as though he’d never even considered such a thing. But when you rolled your hips, squeezing around him he swallowed hard and nodded. “Y-Yes. Whatever you wish, cyar’ika.”
You smiled, before pushing gently at his chest. He let you roll him over without resistance, his back hitting the mattress as he watched you climb above him. Your hair was mussed, your tits bouncing with every movement, and his pupils were blown so wide they nearly swallowed the iris.
You hovered over him, grabbing his cock and stroking it once, slick with both of you. He groaned at the sight, fists gripping the sheets tight, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
“Stars,” he whispered shakily. “I can’t believe this is happening...”
You smirked and lined him up, lowering yourself slow until his thick length filled you all over again. Both of you moaned, the sound tangled between you—his low and broken, yours high and needy.
“Tech,” you gasped, biting your lip as you sank down to the hilt, “Fuck, you feel so good.”
His head dropped back against the pillows as his mouth fell open in a groan. “Oh—ohhh. Maker, mesh’la. You are... You’re so—tight, ahh!” You started moving, your hips lifting before sinking back down, setting a steady rhythm. Your moans came quicker, your body already greedy for him, but your eyes never left his face.
“You like watching me, baby?” you teased between moans, bouncing a little faster. “You can’t stop staring at me, can you? Don’t even wanna blink.”
He nodded frantically, voice breaking with every upward drag of your pussy around him. “No—no, I cannot. You’re… mesmerising. Stars, you’re—” His words dissolved into a loud moan, his fingers twisting the sheets so hard they might tear.
There was something about watching such a confident and talkative man suddenly struggle for words.
You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you picked up the pace, your tits bouncing with each thrust down. “You’re so fucking big, Tech—ahhh, fuck. Filling me up so good.”
His chest vibrated with another groan, hips jerking up to meet yours involuntarily. “Cyar’ika, I—I cannot hold back when you speak this way.”
“Good,” you panted, smirking down at him through hooded eyes. “Don’t. I want it messy, baby. I want you messy for me.”
His eyes rolled back, his breaths turning ragged. You rode him harder, sweat slicking your skin, until the pressure coiled sharp in your belly.
“Spank me,” you begged suddenly, desperate. “Please, Tech—spank me.”
He groaned as though the request ripped through him, his hands immediately leaving the sheets to grab your arse. His long fingers squeezed, spreading your cheeks, before he gave you a firm, open-handed smack. The sharp sting made you cry out and clench around him, sending shockwaves through both of you.
“Ohhh, yes! Fuck, just like that!” you moaned, grinding down harder.
Tech’s lips parted on a ragged moan, his hips snapping up into you as he spanked you again, firmer this time. “You’re—so responsive. So perfect—”
“Harder, baby. Spank me harder.”
He obeyed without hesitation, another sharp smack echoing in the room. Your pussy fluttered around him, your cries growing louder as his grip alternated between spanking and guiding your hips down onto his cock. His moans grew desperate, shaky, every sound raw and unrestrained.
“Mesh’la,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Watching you riding me… feelin’ you—it’s… oh, stars, it’s divine.”
You leaned down, kissing him rough and needy, your words muffled against his lips as you moaned, “You were made for me, Tech. My perfect man.”
That praise alone nearly undid him. In a blur of strength, Tech sat up, grabbed your waist, and lifted you clean off the bed. You gasped in surprise, your legs automatically wrapping around his lean frame as his cock never left your dripping cunt. His lips were on your neck before you could catch your breath—open, bruising kisses marking you as he pressed you hard against the wall.
“Ohhhh! Tech!” you cried, head falling back as his hips snapped up into you, each thrust slamming deep, the sound of your bodies obscene. “Oh fuck, you’re so good—so fucking good!”
He moaned against your throat, his breath hot and ragged. “Maker, you make it easy. So responsive, so beautiful—I cannot stop myself—”
You clung to him, nails digging into his back as your cunt squeezed around him tight. “Don’t stop, baby—please, don’t stop—”
His pace grew erratic, his moans vibrating against your skin as he panted into your neck. “Darling you should not praise me so—it—it makes me—ahhh—” Another sharp thrust, and you cried out, your legs trembling around his waist.
You laughed breathlessly through the moans, your lips brushing his ear. “For a beginner, you’re so fucking good. You’re ruining me.”
Something primal flickered in his eyes, and with a groan, he tore you away from the wall and carried you back to the bed. The world tilted before you landed soft against the mattress, Tech above you, not once letting his cock slip free.
He adjusted, grabbing your leg and hooking it over his arm, angling himself deeper as his hips ground against yours. His voice was a husky growl, unlike anything you’d heard from him before.
“Little cockwarmer,” he muttered, almost reverent, almost feral. “That’s what you are.”
Your cunt pulsed at the name, a broken moan spilling from your lips. “Fuck—Tech—”
His hips shifted again, finding a new angle that made your body jolt with every thrust. He pinned you with his hand gripping your thigh, holding you open for him. It was a dominant way that made you dizzy.
“I’m going to—” His voice caught, his moan guttural. “I am going to fuck you harder, cyar’ika. Hard enough that you—cry my name.” His teeth caught his lip as he bent close, pushing further into you with wild eyes. “And then I will spill my seed into you. Fill you…make certain you never forget your first time with me.”
The promise alone made your pussy clench desperately around him, your eyes glassy as you gasped, “Mmmm yes, Tech, harder—”
He groaned raggedly and pulled back before slamming into you again, the bedframe groaning with the force. Your cries rose higher, raw and broken, every thrust dragging you closer to the edge again as he held your leg tight, owning every part of you.
A raw need made his hips piston into you perfectly. The slap of his balls against your soaked pussy echoed in the room, filthy and wet, the sound alone enough to have you keening.
Your leg trembled in his iron grip as he held it high, opening you wide for him. His thrusts were so deep you could barely breathe.
“Oh—oh fuck, Tech!” you cried, your hands clawing at the sheets as your tits bounced with every slam of his hips.
His other hand left the sheets and moved to your chest, groping and squeezing your breasts as if he couldn’t get enough of them. His fingers pinched your nipples harshly, rolling them between his fingers until you yelped in pleasure.
“That’s it,” Tech groaned, briefly wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Maker, you take me so perfectly.”
You whimpered his name, legs shaking, body already begging for release.
His grip on your breast slid down, hand moving with precision to your swollen clit.
“I am going to touch you here,” he rasped, “I want to feel you convulse around me when you cum.”
And then his fingers were on you—fast, clever, circling and rubbing your clit with the same intensity as his thrusts. The double assault made you scream, your hands flying to his forearms for something to anchor yourself against.
His hips snapped hard, balls smacking wetly against your cunt with every thrust. “Cum for me,” he begged, still pinching your nipple with his free hand. “Cry my name. Let me feel you milk me dry. I want—ahh—I need to see you lose yourself on my cock.”
Your whole body tensed, fire coiling tight in your belly as the messy, relentless rhythm of his cock and fingers dragged you to the edge.
Your orgasm tore through you so violently it was almost unbearable.
Your back arched off the bed, mouth falling open on a strangled cry as your cunt clenched down around Tech’s cock like a vice. Another wave of white- heat ripped through your body, more powerful than before as you spasmed helplessly around him.
“F–fuck—Tech!” you sobbed, eyes rolling back as stars burst behind your lids.
But Tech didn’t stop.
If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him harder. His hips kept rutting into you with deep thrusts. Your whole body shook, overstimulated and raw, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes as his cock dragged every ounce of pleasure from you past the point of sanity.
“Cyar’ika…” he groaned, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath ragged. “You feel... I don’t want to stop yet. I cannot—I need you longer.”
Your words came out slurred, weak, desperate and totally cockdrunk. “P-please fill me up, baby… I can’t—oh stars—I can’t anymore…”
The pleasure began blurring into near pain—but you wanted it, wanted him, even as your body writhed helplessly under his relentless pace.
His groans are raw as he cooed your name when his hips stuttered, cock pulsing deep inside your soaked heat as he finally let go.
With a guttural moan, Tech buried himself to the hilt, grinding his pelvis against your overstimulated clit as his release surged hot and thick inside you.
“Maker—yes—take it all. Stars above, you were so good for me…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking as he pumped every drop of himself into you.
You gasped weakly, legs trembling around him, your nails dragging along his back as his cock pulsed deep, filling you until you could feel it leaking down your thighs.
Tech held you close through the aftershocks, chest pressed to yours, lips brushing your damp cheek as he whispered almost reverently, “Cyar’ika… ner kar’ta… you’ve undone me entirely.”
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of the aftermath settle over you. The room was quiet except for your ragged breathing and Tech’s soft, anxious murmurs. He rolled over briefly, grabbing his goggles from the night stand and adjusted them back on.
“Was that… pleasant enough?” he asked, almost as if he needed your approval to believe it himself.
You rolled your eyes playfully and leaned forward to press a tender, lingering kiss against his mouth. It was slow but full of affection and warmth. Pulling back slightly, you whispered against his lips, “You did so well…”
A soft, almost whiny sound escaped him, his body visibly trembling at the praise. He wanted to bask in it, let it rattle him further—but the moment he remembered you, concern immediately took over.
“I did not hurt you… correct?” His hands hovered over you, unsure whether to touch or fuss, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Was it too much? Too fast? Did I—did I overwhelm you?”
Your eyes soften so you run a hand along his cheek. “I’m fine, Tech. Really. That was amazing,” you reassured him, voice gentle, coaxing him to relax.
Even as he let out a faint sigh of relief, his protective instincts didn’t subside. He reached down, lifting you into his arms effortlessly, holding you close against his chest. Your head rested on his shoulder, heart hammering, as he continued to fuss, his voice laced with concern and admiration.
“Your legs… are you sore? Your back? Please, tell me. I want to know if you’re okay… truly.”
“Tech, you’re fine. I’m fine.” You soothe, tracing a hand over his chest. He nodded slowly, though his eyes betrayed the way he was still processing everything. “Good… good,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before burying his face in your hair. “I just wanted to be certain as I have never-”
You shook your head, smiling as you tightened your hold around him. “I know, Tech. But you did wonderfully. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that before.”
Even in the aftermath, the closeness and the warmth of him holding you felt almost intoxicating.
After a long, tender cleanup, the two of you found yourselves side by side in the suite’s shower. The warm water cascaded over you both, steam curling around your bodies.
Tech’s hands were careful, almost shy as they moved along your shoulders and back, washing away the remnants of your shared intensity. You mirrored him, letting your fingers trace the lines of his chest and arms, feeling the steady beat of his muscles beneath your touch.
It was sweet and even almost comical at times.
Tech fussed over the soap and hair products while you laughed at him. The intimacy wasn’t rushed or overtly sexual this time; it was simple and comforting.
Afterwards, wrapped in the plush towels, you returned to the bed. The sheets were cool against your skin, but the warmth of Tech pressed against you quickly erased any chill. You lay side by side, limbs occasionally brushing.
You spoke about everything and nothing. Hours passed like this, the night stretching peacefully around you. When sleep began to take over again, you cuddled closer to him.
As dawn’s early light spilled into the suite, you pressed your lips lightly against the curve of his shoulder and whispered, “I’m really glad I saw that holoposter…”
Tech turned his head slightly, eyes still heavy with sleep, a soft smile on his face. “So am I.”
⛅️ Written for @the-tech-turn and @gar-romance-month with the prompt Late Night and Sunrise
Warnings: SFW, Tech POV, fluff alert, the tiniest slightest against, Tech carries a huge mental load on his shoulders, he is a nervous boy as usual 🤭
Author’s Note/Prompt: Hey @the-tech-turn!!! So so sorry it took me forever and a day to write this for you. I super hope you enjoy it! You sent in such a great prompt idea! My tumblr is glitching out so it wouldn’t let me reply directly to your post, so for those wondering, they requested the following: Okay, HEAR ME OUT, a Tech x reader fic where it's late at night, after a mission, and tech is staying up in the cockpit(as usual) and was there with him just decompressing from the day. Like we've been starting to silently spend time with him at night, but today you guys actually spoke. Ask about what maybe a show we used to like and want to watch with Tech or our life before joining the batch. Both? I think that would be cute! Romantic please!!
The Marauder’s cockpit was quiet except for the soft hum of idle systems and the occasional beep from Tech’s datapad.
Tech had been staring at the same sensor data for the past eleven minutes, his eyes tracking the numbers without actually processing them. He was waiting, though he would never admit that to himself. Waiting implied expectation, and expectation implied hope, and hope was a variable Tech preferred not to factor into his calculations.
Except you had come to the cockpit every night for the past six nights. The pattern was established. The data was clear.
The probability of your arrival sat cleanly at eighty-nine percent.
Then he heard your footsteps in the corridor. Right on schedule. You were as predictable as orbital mechanics, and Tech found that reassuring in ways he could not quite quantify.
The cockpit door slid open.
You stepped inside without a word, moving to the co-pilot’s seat like you had done this a hundred times instead of just six. You settled in with a quiet exhale, drawing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them.
Tech did not look at you directly. That was the agreement the two of you had developed without ever discussing it: silence, no expectations, just existing in the same space while the rest of the ship slept. His datapad glowed in the dim lighting, casting blue across his face.
You shifted in your seat, and Tech’s awareness zeroed in on the sound despite his best efforts to focus on his screen. Usually the silence was immediate and total, but tonight felt different, charged somehow, like the air before a lightning strike.
Tech’s thumb hovered over his datapad, not quite touching the screen. He could feel you looking at him, and his heart rate increased about twelve percent.
“Tech?” Your voice was soft, careful, like you were testing the weight of breaking your established pattern.
Tech’s hand tightened on the datapad. “Yes?”
He still did not look at you, could not look at you, because if he did he would see whatever expression you were wearing, and that expression might undo every carefully constructed defense he had built around these quiet nights together.
“Can I ask you something?”
Tech’s throat went dry. This was new territory. You had never initiated conversation during these sessions, never asked questions. The silence had been safe and easy, but now you were changing the parameters and Tech had no data for how to proceed.
“Of course,” he said, aiming for calm and landing slightly strained.
Silence stretched between you. Tech counted his heartbeats. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.
“What are you working on?” you finally asked.
Tech blinked. That was your question? Not why he spent every night alone in the cockpit or why he never joined the others in the hold or any of the hundred more invasive questions you could have asked? Relief and disappointment warred in his chest.
“Maintenance protocols,” he said, which was true in the most technical sense. “Reviewing system efficiency reports.”
“At twenty-three hundred hours?”
“The time of day is irrelevant to data analysis.”
He heard rather than saw your small smile. Something in the quality of your breathing changed. Perhaps a slight laugh.
“You do this every night,” you observed.
Tech’s fingers stilled on the datapad. “The Marauder requires consistent monitoring.”
“Hunter doesn’t monitor it every night.”
“Hunter has different priorities.”
“And yours are…?”
Sitting here hoping you will show up so I can pretend I am not completely alone with my thoughts. Making sure everyone survives another day. Trying not to think about all the ways today’s mission could have gone wrong. Memorizing the sound of your footsteps so I know when you are near.
“Ensuring optimal ship performance,” Tech said instead.
Another pause. Then: “Can I see what you are looking at?”
His hands moved before his mind could catch up, angling the datapad toward you.
You leaned forward to look, and suddenly you were closer. Much closer. Close enough that Tech could see the faint shadows under your eyes and smell whatever soap you used and feel the warmth radiating from your shoulder nearly touching his.
“These are power consumption rates?” you asked, pointing at a column of numbers.
“Yes. Each system’s energy draw over the past forty-eight hours. I am identifying areas where we can improve efficiency.”
“This one here,” your finger traced a line on the screen, “The environmental controls. They are using more power than the others.”
“Correct.” Tech pulled up a secondary screen from the ship’s console, trying to focus on data instead of the fact that you were right there and actually seemed interested in power consumption analytics. “The starboard crew quarters has a faulty seal. The system is compensating by working harder to maintain temperature.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes. It requires approximately thirty minutes and standard tools.”
You hummed thoughtfully, still studying the screen. “You notice everything, don’t you?”
Tech’s chest tightened. It was not a question, not really, but it felt like one, like you were asking something deeper than whether he noticed power fluctuations.
“It is necessary,” he said quietly. “Small problems compound. A faulty seal becomes a system failure. A system failure becomes a mission compromise.”
If I do not notice, people die. If I do not pay attention to every detail, I lose the people I care about. If I am not hypervigilant every moment, something will slip through and it will be my fault.
“That sounds exhausting,” you said softly.
Tech’s jaw tightened. “It is simply how my mind works.”
“I know.” Your voice carried something warm. “I wasn’t criticizing. I was just… observing.”
You pulled back slightly, and Tech’s shoulder felt cold where your warmth had been.
“I like watching you work,” you continued, and Tech’s entire thought process derailed. “You get this focused expression. Like nothing else in the galaxy exists except whatever problem you are solving.”
Tech stared at his datapad. You liked watching him work. You had been observing him enough to notice his expressions, and you were telling him this at twenty-three hundred hours in the quiet of the cockpit like it was a casual piece of information and not something that would replay in his mind for the next several weeks.
“I…” His voice failed him. Start over. Organize your thoughts. Respond like a functional human being.
“Thank you,” he managed. “That is… I am pleased that my work ethic is noticeable.”
You laughed quietly, and the sound did something devastating to his cardiovascular system.
“Your work ethic,” you repeated, and there was something teasing in your tone. “Sure. That’s what I meant.”
Tech had no idea what you actually meant, and his brain was too busy malfunctioning to calculate the possibilities. He pulled his datapad back and pulled up another screen just to have something to do with his hands.
“Why do you come here?” The question escaped before he could stop it. “Every night. To the cockpit.”
Silence filled the space between you, and Tech immediately regretted asking. He had broken the unspoken rule, questioned the pattern instead of simply accepting it, and now you would realize how pathetic it was that he noticed, that he counted the minutes until you arrived, that your presence had become the only thing that made the late hours bearable.
“Because you’re here,” you said simply.
Tech’s hands froze on the datapad.
His mind raced through possible interpretations. You came because he was here. Because you wanted to be where he was. Because his presence was somehow desirable rather than merely tolerable.
The data did not make sense.
“I am here every night,” he said carefully. “It would be more logical to spend your rest hours sleeping.”
“Probably,” you agreed. “But I like it here.”
Here. With me. You like being here with me.
Tech’s throat felt tight.
“The cockpit does provide optimal solitude,” he managed.
“That’s not why I like it.”
His heart was doing something arrhythmic and entirely outside standard protocol. Not that he and his brothers usually followed standard protocol anyways.
“Then why?” The question came out quieter than he intended.
You were silent for a long moment, and Tech risked a glance at your face.
You were already looking at him, your expression soft in the blue glow of the instruments. Something in your eyes made his breath catch.
“Because it’s peaceful,” you said. “And because you don’t expect me to be anything other than what I am. I can just… exist. Without speaking…. or performing, or explaining or trying to fit.”
Tech understood that feeling more than he could articulate.
“I find your presence similarly comfortable,” he managed, but knew it was an insurmountable understatement.
I find these nights with you are the only time my mind quiets.
Your smile was small and genuine.
“Good,” you said. “Because I’ve been worried I was bothering you.”
“Bothering me?” Tech’s voice came out sharper than intended. “No. You are not… you could not…”
He trailed off, struggling to find words adequate for the magnitude of how wrong that assumption was.
“You are welcome here,” he said finally, firmly. “Always.”
The word hung between you. Always. Infinite. Absolute. Your expression softened into something that made Tech’s chest ache.
You settled back into your seat, pulling your knees up again, and Tech tried to remember what he had been doing before this conversation rewrote his entire neural pathway. Right. Maintenance logs. Power consumption. Things that made sense.
Except now he could not focus on any of it because you were still here and you had said you liked being here with him and his mind was entirely occupied with processing that information.
Minutes passed in comfortable quiet. Tech pulled up his sensor calibration data, the same screen he had been staring at for the past hour, and made a valiant effort to actually read it this time.
“Tech?”
His attention snapped to you immediately. “Yes?”
“Can I ask you something else?”
His pulse spiked. “Of course.”
You shifted slightly, and there was something nervous in the movement that put Tech on high alert.
“Before you left the Empire,” you started slowly, “before all of this… what was your life like?”
Tech’s entire body went still.
Of all the questions. Of all the topics. You had chosen the one that required him to excavate parts of himself he preferred to keep buried under layers of technical specifications and tactical analysis.
“I…” He paused, buying time by adjusting his goggles even though they did not need adjusting. “Clone Force 99 has been my unit since creation. We were designated experimental. Desirable genetic mutations enhanced our combat ability beyond what was required for standard deployment.”
He kept his voice clinical. Detached. Like he was reciting someone else’s history.
“We trained separately from the regs on Kamino. We were never integrated with the regular clone forces.” He kept his eyes trained on the screen, drowning in blue light as his throat tightened. “It was adequate for our purposes.”
It was isolating. Even among my brothers I was the strange one. Too technical. Too literal. Too much of… everything.
“Adequate,” you echoed, and there was something knowing in your voice.
“Our unit functioned with high efficiency,” Tech clarified. “We had a 100% sucess rate. That was sufficient.”
“But what about when you weren’t on missions? What did you do?”
Tech frowned. “I studied. Maintained equipment. Expanded my technical knowledge base. Standard activities.”
“For fun?”
“The activities were enjoyable.”
“But were they fun? Did you do things just because you wanted to? Not because they were useful or necessary?”
Tech opened his mouth. Closed it.
The honest answer formed in his mind but felt too vulnerable to speak aloud: I never learned how to want things that did not serve a tactical purpose.
Your expression shifted into something that looked uncomfortably like sympathy.
“Tech, those are still work.”
“They were informative.”
“That’s not what I meant.” You leaned forward slightly. “Did you ever just… watch something because it was entertaining? Because it made you happy?”
Happy. The word sat strangely in Tech’s mind.
“I did not prioritize entertainment,” he said carefully. “There were always more pressing concerns.”
You were quiet for a long moment, watching him with those eyes that saw too much.
“What about now?” you asked softly. “Do you do things just because they make you happy?”
Tech’s fingers tightened on his datapad.
Did he? He maintained the ship because it was necessary. He studied because knowledge was survival. He came to the cockpit every night because…
Because you were here.
Because somewhere in the past few nights, sitting in silence with you had stopped being about decompression and started being about something he could not quite name but desperately wanted to keep.
“I am… learning to,” he said quietly.
Your smile was soft and warm and made something in his chest crack open.
“Good,” you said. “You deserve to have things that make you happy.”
Tech had no response to that. The concept felt foreign. Revolutionary. Like you had just suggested that gravity was optional.
“What about you?” he asked, redirecting before his defenses crumbled completely. “What was your life like before joining us?”
Your demeanor shifted, brightness creeping over your expression.
“Oh, completely different. I wasn’t military. I worked in Republic Intelligence, data analysis mostly. Very boring compared to this.”
“Data analysis is not boring,” Tech protested immediately.
Your laugh was quiet but genuine. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
Tech’s face warmed.
“But outside of work,” you continued, “I had a pretty normal life. An apartment, friends, routines. I used to watch holovids on my days off, go to markets, just… normal civilian things.”
Tech tried to imagine it. You in an apartment somewhere, living a life that did not involve firefights and narrow escapes. You watching holovids without worrying about Imperial patrols. You being safe.
His chest tightened.
“Do you miss it?” he asked quietly.
You considered the question with visible thought.
“Sometimes,” you admitted. “I miss the stability. The predictability. Knowing I’d wake up in the same place every day.” You paused. “But I don’t regret leaving. This… what we do now. It matters. And the people I’ve met…”
You trailed off, but you were looking at him again, and Tech’s heart once again struggled to maintain a steady rhythm.
“The people make it worth it,” you finished softly.
Tech swallowed hard.
“I am glad you are here,” he managed, but continued, “Your tactical analysis has proven invaluable. Your ability to remain calm under pressure has contributed significantly to mission success rates.”
You make everything better. You make me feel less alone. I wait here every night because it means I get to sit here with you and pretend that this is normal, that people like me- that clones, get to have things like this.
“Just my tactical analysis?” you asked, and there was something teasing in your tone but also something else. Something hopeful.
Tech’s mind went blank.
Was that a leading question? Was he supposed to read subtext? He was terrible at subtext. Give him an encrypted Imperial transmission and he could break it in minutes- no, seconds! But this?
“No,” he said carefully. “Not just your tactical analysis.”
“What else?”
Tech’s mouth went dry.
“You…” He struggled to organize thoughts and they all felt too large for words. “You listen when I explain things. You ask questions that indicate genuine interest rather than polite tolerance. You make me feel…”
He paused, searching for the right word.
Seen. Valued. Like maybe all the parts of me that other people find excessive or annoying are actually acceptable.
“…less alone,” he finished quietly.
The cockpit felt very small suddenly. Very quiet. Just you and him and the hum of instruments and all the things Tech was not saying hanging in the air between you.
“You make me feel less alone too,” you said softly.
You shifted closer, just slightly, and Tech’s awareness narrowed to the diminishing space between you.
“Can I tell you something?” you asked.
Tech nodded, not trusting his voice.
“There was this show I used to watch,” you said. “And there is a point to me saying this, I promise!”
Tech studied her quietly, slightly off kilter by the sudden topic shift.
“It was before the fall of the Republic. Before all this… called Galactic Frontiers. It was about explorers charting unknown space. Completely ridiculous from a scientific standpoint, but I loved it anyway.”
Tech’s brain latched onto the familiar topic like a lifeline.
“I am familiar with that program,” he said, and there was definitely too much interest in his voice but he could not help it. He paused, adjusting his goggles. “Actually, I had forgotten about it until you mentioned it. The scientific inaccuracies were egregious, but the character dynamics were compelling. I suppose it did not occur to me to mention it earlier because my partaking in Galactic Frontiers was an anomaly.”
Your face lit up like he had just given you the galaxy.
“You’ve seen it?”
“I watched several episodes during downtime on Kamino. The atmospheric consistency alone was statistically impossible. Every planet had identical gravity and breathable air.”
“Right?” You leaned forward eagerly. “And the faster than light travel made no sense. They just… jumped to hyperspace instantly with no calculations or nav computer.”
“Entirely fictional,” Tech agreed, and he could feel enthusiasm creeping into his voice. “Real hyperspace travel requires extensive mathematical modeling and multiple safety protocols.”
“I know! But I loved it anyway. Something about the adventure of it, the discovery. Finding new worlds, meeting new species.” You paused, your expression softening. “Well, my point is… I always wanted to rewatch it with someone who would appreciate how absurd it was while still enjoying it.”
Tech’s heart performed an acrobatic maneuver that would have concerned a medical droid.
With someone. You wanted to watch it with someone. You were telling him this while looking at him with those eyes and, despite the subtext, he knew what that implied, what you were offering.
“I would be interested in that,” he said, trying to sound calm and failing spectacularly. “Watching it. With you. If you wanted to.”
Your smile could have powered the entire Republic fleet.
“Really? You’d want to watch a completely scientifically inaccurate show just to make fun of it with me?”
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. “I would find that… enjoyable.”
I would find any activity enjoyable if it involved spending time with you. I would watch the most tedious programming in existence if it meant I got to hear your laugh and see your smile and exist in your proximity for a few hours.
“There’s one problem though,” you said, “We don’t exactly have access to holovid streaming on the Marauder.”
Tech’s mind immediately began calculating solutions.
“I could construct a receiver array using salvaged components from our last supply run. With proper modifications to our comm system, I could potentially access archived Republic entertainment databases. It would require approximately six hours of work and some creative rewiring, but it is feasible.”
You were staring at him.
“You would build an entire system just to watch an old show with me?”
Tech adjusted his goggles, suddenly uncertain.
“Was that… did you not want me to? I apologize if I misunderstood the request. I simply thought—”
“Tech.” You were laughing now, soft and warm. “I would love that. I just… you’re amazing. You know that?”
Amazing. You thought he was amazing?
“I am simply solving a technical problem,” he managed.
“You’re doing it because you want to spend time with me.”
Tech’s face burned hot enough to compromise his goggles’ thermal regulation.
“I…” There was no point denying it. You had stated the obvious truth he had been trying to rationalize away. “Yes. I want to spend time with you.”
The admission hung in the air between you, vulnerable and terrifying and honest.
Your hand moved, reaching across the small space, and suddenly your fingers were brushing against his where they rested on the datapad.
Tech’s entire nervous system went into overdrive.
You were touching him. Deliberately. Your fingers warm against his, the contact soft and tentative like you were asking a question without words.
Tech’s thumb shifted, just slightly, pressing back against yours.
“I want to spend time with you too,” you said quietly. “That’s why I come here every night. Not for the cockpit or the quiet. For you.”
Tech’s throat felt impossibly tight.
“Oh,” he managed, which was possibly the least articulate response he could have managed.
You laughed softly, and your fingers curled more firmly around his.
“You really didn’t know?”
“I…” Tech struggled to form coherent thoughts with your hand holding his. “I considered it a possibility, but the data was inconclusive. I did not want to make assumptions that might compromise our… our current dynamic.”
“Our friendship?”
“Yes.”
“What if I wanted to compromise it?” you asked softly.
Tech’s heart stopped.
Then restarted at approximately twice its normal rate.
“That would…” He swallowed hard. “That would depend on how you intended to compromise it.”
You shifted closer, and suddenly the co-pilot’s seat felt very far away and much too close simultaneously.
“I’m not very good at this,” you admitted. “Saying what I mean. But I like you, Tech. A lot. More than just as a teammate or friend.”
Tech stared at you like you had just rewritten the laws of physics.
“You have romantic interest,” he said, needing the clarification, needing to be absolutely certain he was understanding correctly. “In me.”
“Yes,” you said simply. Though the single word felt inadequate for what was happening in this cockpit with your fingers tangled with his.
“I have…” His voice came out rough. “I have developed similar feelings. For several weeks now. Possibly longer. I have been attempting to analyze them but the data has been inconclusive and I did not want to jeopardize our established rapport by introducing variables that might—”
You kissed him.
One moment Tech was explaining his feelings using the emotional processing capabilities of a particularly anxious droid, and the next your lips were pressed softly against his and his brain forgot how to do anything except feel.
Soft. You were so soft. And warm. And kissing him. You were actually kissing him.
Tech’s datapad clattered to the floor.
His hands came up automatically, one settling carefully on your waist, the other cupping your jaw with the kind of reverence he usually reserved for rare technical components.
You made a small sound against his mouth, and Tech’s entire system overheated to a level nearing catastrophic.
When you pulled back, his goggles were askew and his breathing was unsteady and he was quite certain he had forgotten his own name.
“Was that okay?” you asked softly, and you sounded as breathless as he felt.
“That was…” Tech struggled to find words. “That was significantly more than okay. That was optimal. Exceptional. The data suggests that repeating the experience would be advisable.”
You laughed, and the sound vibrated through him where you were still touching.
“Very smooth, Tech.”
“I apologize. My verbal processing capabilities appear to be compromised by your proximity and the lingering sensory input from—”
You kissed him again.
Tech stopped trying to think and just let himself feel.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, careful around the arm of his goggles. His hand tightened slightly on your waist, pulling you closer across the small space between seats. The angle was awkward and the armrests were digging into his side and none of it mattered because you were kissing him like he was something precious.
Like he was worth wanting.
When you finally pulled away, you were smiling and Tech was quite certain his cardiovascular system would never recover.
“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks,” you admitted.
“I have wanted you to do that for weeks,” Tech replied, then immediately felt his face heat. “That is… I have experienced similar desires. Of a reciprocal nature.”
“Tech?”
“Yes?”
“You can just say you wanted to kiss me.”
“I wanted to kiss you,” he repeated obediently, and then added because apparently his brain-to-mouth filter had been completely demolished: “I want to kiss you again.”
Your smile widened. “Good. Because I want to kiss you again too.”
“Excellent,” Tech said. “Then we are in agreement about the desired course of action and can proceed with—”
You were laughing now, bright and warm, and Tech realized he was being ridiculous but he could not seem to stop.
“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” you said.
“I am not flustered. I am simply experiencing elevated neurological activity in response to novel stimuli.”
“Uh huh. Very scientific.”
“It is an accurate description of—”
You kissed him again, and Tech decided that you were absolutely right to keep interrupting his explanations with your mouth.
Minutes or hours later—Tech’s usually precise temporal awareness had been completely compromised—you were both sitting pressed together in his pilot’s seat, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm around your waist, hands still tangled together. The cockpit had grown quieter, your breathing evening out into something close to sleep, and Tech found himself perfectly content to sit here holding you for as long as you would let him.
Then you stirred slightly, and Tech glanced at the viewport.
The horizon was beginning to change. The deep black of night was giving way to the faintest hint of color, a gradual lightening that Tech’s pattern recognition immediately identified as pre-dawn.
“Look,” he said softly, not wanting to wake you fully but unable to keep the quiet wonder from his voice.
You lifted your head from his shoulder, blinking sleep from your eyes, and turned toward the viewport.
The sunrise was slow, methodical, exactly as planetary rotation dictated it should be. But watching the sky transform from black to deep purple to brilliant orange felt like witnessing something extraordinary. Light spilled across the landscape beyond the Marauder, illuminating rock formations and scattered vegetation in shades of gold and amber.
Tech had seen countless sunrises on countless planets. He had calculated the exact timing based on axial tilt and orbital position more times than he could count. He had never found them particularly noteworthy beyond their scientific implications.
But this one was different.
Because you were here, your hand still tangled with his, your shoulder warm against his side, watching the same sky transform with an expression of quiet awe that made his chest ache.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.
Tech looked at you instead of the sunrise, at the way the growing light caught in your eyes and painted your features in soft gold.
“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “It is.”
You caught him staring and smiled, “We should do this again, watch the sunrise together.”
Tech’s thumb brushed across your knuckles. “I would like that very much,” he said.
And as the sun continued its inevitable rise, painting the cockpit in warm light and chasing away the shadows of night, Tech thought that maybe—just maybe—he was starting to understand what it meant to want things that served no tactical purpose.
To want things simply because they made him happy.
So funny request, feel free to ignore it if your busy. But I just can help but think about how the clones have no sense of misogyny due to how they were raised. There were so many female Jedi and many of the kaminoans that created and raised them were women. I was wondering how a platonic bad batch would react to casual misogyny towards a female reader maybe? Nothing too bad, just them being absolutely bewildered that someone would think something like that and then low-key upset when she's like "it is what it is🤷♀️".
If this request makes you uncomfortable no pressure to do it, I just thought it was an interesting idea. And I love your writing so...🤭
“It Is What It Is”
Bad batch x Reader
The market square on Raxus was buzzing with noise, chatter, and the metallic clank of droids carrying cargo. Clone Force 99 didn’t exactly blend in—broad-shouldered armored soldiers tended to stand out among merchants and civilians—but for once, no one was actively shooting at them.
You were walking a few paces ahead with Tech, trying to follow the datapad’s map to a contact’s stall. Hunter and Echo trailed behind, eyes scanning the crowd. Wrecker wandered with a bag of candied nuts, happily munching. Crosshair was…well, Crosshair, which meant scowling and looking like he wanted to shoot someone at random.
Everything was fine—until it wasn’t.
A vendor selling blaster parts leaned on his counter as you stopped to check the stock. You’d been trained enough to know what you were looking for, so you asked a perfectly reasonable question about the power capacity of one of his rifle scopes.
The man gave you a once-over, slow and dismissive. His smirk was greasy. “Sweetheart, this isn’t a fashion booth. Leave the tech talk to your boys over there, yeah?”
Your stomach sank. You’d heard it before—on Raxus, Coruscant, practically everywhere outside Kaminoan military channels. You blinked, pasted on a polite smile, and shrugged. “It is what it is,” you muttered under your breath, already turning away.
But Tech froze.
His brows knitted in confusion as though the vendor had just spoken an alien dialect. “I beg your pardon?” he asked sharply, adjusting his goggles. “Are you implying that her gender renders her incapable of discussing weapon components?”
The vendor blinked at him, startled. “I’m just saying she might not understand the specs—”
“Incorrect,” Tech interrupted, voice like a vibroblade. “She has demonstrated clear comprehension of the question she posed, which you have thus far failed to answer. Statistically, the biological sex of an individual has no correlation with their capacity for mechanical or tactical knowledge.”
Hunter’s voice cut low and warning. “Tech.” But his tone wasn’t meant for Tech—it was for the vendor.
Crosshair had stopped pretending to be bored. He leaned lazily against a crate, toothpick between his teeth, but his golden eyes gleamed sharp. “Go on. Say something else stupid.”
Echo stepped forward, expression tight. “She asked you about the power capacity. Answer it. Or we’ll take our business elsewhere.”
The vendor sputtered, suddenly sweating under the combined scrutiny of four armored soldiers and one visibly furious man in a bandana. He fumbled for the datapad to pull up the specs.
Wrecker lumbered closer, looming over the counter like a mountain. “You were real quick to run your mouth,” he said, voice deceptively cheerful. “Funny how you don’t sound so smart now.”
The poor man stammered out the details, stumbling over numbers until Tech snatched the datapad from his hands and checked the information himself.
Satisfied, Tech handed it to you instead of back to the vendor. “As I was saying, this model will serve your intended purpose. Though, if I may recommend, the alternate design from Kuat Systems is superior in stability.”
You nodded, grateful, and tucked it away. “Thanks, Tech.”
The Batch didn’t move until you’d stepped away from the booth, and even then, you could feel their agitation vibrating through the air like static.
⸻
Later, when you regrouped at the ship, it was impossible to ignore the stormy mood.
Hunter leaned against the ramp with arms crossed. “Does that kind of thing happen a lot?”
You shrugged, sitting on a crate. “Depends what you call ‘a lot.’ It’s not a big deal.”
All five sets of eyes landed on you at once, incredulous.
“Not a—” Echo cut himself off, staring at you like you’d grown another head. “He dismissed you for being a woman. That’s not nothing.”
Crosshair scoffed, pushing off the wall. “He’s lucky Tech spoke first. I’d have put a bolt through his datapad.”
Wrecker frowned, scratching his head. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone think you can’t know about gear just ’cause you’re not a man? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t,” Tech agreed firmly. “On Kamino, many of the Kaminoans responsible for our education and maintenance were female. Numerous Jedi Generals are female. Statistically, gender distribution among the skilled and the incompetent is equal.”
Hunter tilted his head, studying you. His voice was gentler now. “And you just…accept it? ‘It is what it is?’”
You sighed. “What do you want me to say? It happens everywhere. People think like that, they say dumb things, and I move on. If I let it bother me every time, I’d never get anything done.”
That didn’t make them feel better. If anything, it made it worse.
Echo’s jaw tightened. “So you’ve dealt with this your whole life.”
“Pretty much.”
Crosshair muttered a curse under his breath, pacing away. Wrecker still looked baffled, like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. Tech was visibly unsettled, recalibrating his entire worldview around a variable he’d never considered. And Hunter…Hunter looked downright pained.
“You shouldn’t have to just ‘deal with it,’” he said quietly.
You smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, well. Galaxy’s full of idiots. Can’t shoot them all.”
Crosshair smirked darkly. “Try me.”
That actually earned a laugh from Wrecker, but it was short-lived.
Tech crouched in front of you, serious. “Please understand, your dismissal of this treatment does not reduce its illogical and offensive nature. If you encounter it again, we will intervene.”
“Tech—”
“No,” Echo cut in. “He’s right. You don’t have to just brush it off, not when we’re around.”
Hunter nodded firmly. “We look out for each other. Always.”
For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You’d long since accepted casual misogyny as background noise, but looking at them—all five soldiers utterly baffled and quietly furious on your behalf—you felt something twist in your chest.
Wrecker gently nudged your shoulder, voice soft for once. “You’re part of our squad, ya know. Anyone messes with you, they mess with us.”
Crosshair flicked his toothpick aside and smirked again, but his eyes were serious. “And trust me. They don’t want that.”
You laughed, but this time it wasn’t hollow. It was warm, real. “Thanks, boys. I’ll try to remember that.”
Hunter offered a small smile in return, the tension easing slightly. “Good. Because ‘it is what it is’ doesn’t fly with us.”
And just like that, you realized—maybe it didn’t have to fly with you, either.
