dustfiction74

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"The Bad Batch" Timeline: Explained

I've had some interesting conversations with folks on Twitter over the last few weeks about the timeline of "The Bad Batch" show: How much time passes between any given episodes? How old is Omega during S1 or S3? etc.

The short answer is that the entire show takes place over 18-24 months*

(*NOTE: All timeline discussion excludes the TBB epilogue at the end of episode 3.15 "The Cavalary Has Arrived.")

EDIT: I’m also calculating time based on Earth weeks/months/years. I recognize that time in the Star Wars universe likely varies from planet to planet, so I just want to clarify we’re going off IRL time calculations: 7 days to a week, ~30 days to a month, 12 months to a year. I’m also not referring to any external sources (except Wookieepedia, but that’s more to confirm the timeline, not create it), so I don’t care what some guidebook says. I’m going based on what happens in the show itself.

Wookieepedia lists Hemlock's death as 18 BBY, so at least 12-24 months pass between 1.01 "Aftermath" in 19 BBY and Hemlock's death in the series finale.

However, the two biggest and clearest indications of how much time passes during the show is Mayday's comments in 2.12 "The Outpost" and Omega's tally marks in 3.01 "Confined."

In 2.12, Mayday says he's been posted on Barton IV for over a year, and based on his comments, he wasn't posted on Barton IV until after The Clone Wars ended. So, it's been at least a year -- but probably more like 14-15 months because Mayday says "over a year" -- since the events of 1.01 "Aftermath."

Then after the time-jump during 3.01, Omega has about 5.5 months of tally marks. Rounding up from when Crosshair was arrested and taken to Tantiss, about 6 months have passed since 2.12.

So, between those two indicators, at least 18 months have passed between 1.01 "Aftermath" and the end of 3.01 "Confined." But, realistically, it's probably been more like 20-21 months.

Then, the rest of S3 takes place over a pretty compressed timeframe, as no more than a few days seem to pass between episodes. I'll get into this more later, but I'm guessing that the end of 3.01 "Confined" to the big showdown on Tantiss in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived" takes place over the course of 1-2 months.

Again, it's confirmed that 18-24 months pass between the series premiere and the series finale.

But, my best guess is that the entire show takes place over 22-23 months based on in-universe clues.

THE SEASON 1 TIMELINE BREAKDOWN

Overall, I'm guessing that Season 1 takes place over the course of 4-6 months. I think this is much shorter than some people think, but it makes sense to me based on context clues.

1.01 "Aftermath" takes place over the course of a few days, and then 1.02 "Cut & Run" to 1.06 "Decommissioned" all seem to take place in a very compressed timeframe. No more than a day or two seems to pass between episodes, and no more than a day or two passes within each episode.

So, I'm thinking the end of 1.06 is takes place about a month after 1.01.

Then we get our first notable time-jump between 1.06 and 1.07.

1.07 "Battle Scars" opens with the Bad Batch having done at least 10 more jobs for Cid since we last saw them in 1.06. (FYI: this is based on Omega and Wrecker's order of 20 cartons of Mantell Mix).

However Cid talks about the Corellia job like it wasn't too long ago, and if we average 2-3 days per job (which seems realistic based on what we see in the show), then about a month has passed between 1.06 and 1.07.

So, at the beginning of 1.07, I'm saying about two months have passed since 1.01 "Aftermath."

Then 1.08 "Reunion" and 1.09 "Bounty Lost" take place immediately after 1.07.

Skipping over 1.10, we get another notable time-jump between 1.09 "Bounty Lost" and 1.11 "Devil's Deal." The biggest indicator is Crosshair's recovery from his injuries on Bracca.

Assuming at least a month for him to recover and be stationed on Ryloth with Rampart & co., that means at least three months have passed between 1.01 "Aftermath" and 1.11 "Devil's Deal."

Even though we don't have any firm timeline, I don't think more than 2 months passed between 1.09 and 1.11, because everyone on Ryloth talks like it hasn't been that long since the Clone Wars ended.

Anyway, then 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth" takes place immediately after 1.11.

Now, we know that 1.14-1.16 all take place over the course of a few days. So that just leaves us with how much time passes between 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth" and 1.14 "War-Mantle."

Given that Rampart gave Crosshair permission to hunt down his brothers at the end of 1.12, I'm going to assume he wasn't looking for them that long. Rampart never complains that Crosshair's manhunt is wasting time, or that it's taking so long that they should abandon the effort. Plus, they were also busy decommissioning Tipoca City and the other Kaminoan facilities, so I imagine that took some time.

So, maybe 3-5 weeks (or another month) in all.

To recap, we have:

A month from 1.01 to 1.06

A month between 1.06 and 1.07

A month between 1.07-1.09 and 1.11/1.12

A month between 1.11/1.12 and 1.14-1.16

Overall, 4 months for sure, but 5-6 months seems a good estimate.

This would also account for how much time passes during the Bracca and Ryloth arcs, and gives more wiggle room on how long Crosshair's recovery process was. Maybe it took him two months to recover from Bracca and be assigned to Ryloth. Or maybe Crosshair was searching for his brothers for more than a month after Ryloth. Who knows?

But, overall, I'm estimating the events of 1.16 "Kamino Lost" take place 5-6 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

THE SEASON 2 TIMELINE BREAKDOWN

I'll tell you now: early Season 2 is where a lot of my guesses go out the window, because we get far fewer clues as to how much time passes between episodes.

Let's start with the time-jump between the end of Season 1 and the beginning of S2.

Based on Rampart and Crosshair's conversation in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone," Crosshair was stranded on Kamino for a month.

Given that he didn't have any food or water on him when his brothers left him on the platform, he must've been emaciated and dehydrated AF, even if he found some way to collect rainwater and/or catch fish. And Rampart said he needed to be "medically cleared" for active duty.

At least two months seems a good estimate. One month for Crosshair to be stranded; another month for him to recover. It's possible it was longer, though, I admit.

So, at the beginning of 2.03 "The Solitary Clone," we're at least 7 months removed from 1.01 "Aftermath."

Now, I actually think 2.03 takes place before 2.01/2.02. Story for another time, but it boils down to:

1) The creators would want to kick off Season 2 with a Bad Batch-centric episode not a Crosshair-centric episode, even if Crosshair’s episode takes place first chronologically; and

2) Rampart learns the Bad Batch is alive in 2.02, but never has Crosshair arrested or monitored as a potential spy or anything -- this only makes sense if Rampart finds out TBB is alive after Crosshair is cleared for duty and has proven his loyalty.

But, ultimately it doesn't matter:

Based on Mayday's comments in 2.12 "The Outpost," early Season 2 has to cover at least 7 more months. That means that months are passing between episodes in early S2.

In 2.12, Mayday says he's been stationed at the Outpost for over a year, and that he wasn't stationed there until after the war ended. So, assuming at least a month after the war for him to be reassigned, and then 13 months for him to be on Barton IV ... 2.12 has to take place at least 14 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

So, ultimately, I think 2.01/2.02 might take place 3-4 months after the Fall of Kamino in 1.16 "Kamino Lost." It would allow enough time for the Bad Batch to get new clothes, repaint their old armor, and for Omega to start all of her studies while the Bad Batch continues to do jobs for Cid.

Then we probably have another month between 2.02 "Ruins of War" and 2.04 "Faster." Then another month to 2.05 "Entombed." And then another month to 2.06 "Tribe." And then another month to the beginning of 2.07 “The Clone Conspiracy.”

Because of how compressed the back-half of Season 2 is, I think 2.07/2.08 takes place about 13 months after the war ends in 1.01 "Aftermath" and, thus, about 7-8 months after the Fall of Kamino in 1.16 "Kamino Lost."

Now, once we get to 2.07, that's when the timeline starts compressing again based on in-universe clues.

We know 2.08 "Truth and Consequences" takes place almost immediately after 2.07. So, no more than a week seems to pass between the beginning of 2.07 and the end of 2.08.

Then, 2.09 "The Crossing" takes place a few days after 2.08, as Omega is still adjusting to Echo's absence. Then 2.10 "Retrieval" is immediately after 2.09, and 2.11 "Metamorphosis" takes place maybe a day after 2.10.

So, from the beginning of 2.07 to the end of 2.11, maybe two weeks have passed in-universe.

Then, at the beginning of 2.13 "Pabu," Cid remarks that it's been 20 rotations since she last talked to the Bad Batch in 2.11.

From 2.13 to 2.14, I'm guessing 1-2 weeks have passed based on how much of Pabu has been rebuilt since the sea surge and other context clues (like Shep and Hunter's conversation about the Bad Batch staying on Pabu).

Now, we're not exactly sure where 2.12 "The Outpost" falls in the S2 timeline. I'm guessing it's simultaneous with 2.13 "Pabu" for thematic and dramatic reasons, but we see all our various plot threads align in 2.14 "Tipping Point." Everything Echo, Crosshair and Hunter & co. do happens within 2-3 days.

Then, based on Echo's comments, we know 2.15 "The Summit" takes place two days after the Bad Batch's conversation at the end of 2.14 "Tipping Point." And then 2.16 "Plan 99" takes place immediately after 2.15.

So, while I can't speculate much on early S2, I can tell you that 2.07-2.16 spans about two months.

To recap:

2 months between 1.16 "Kamino Lost" and 2.03 "The Solitary Clone"

Several months between 2.01/2.02 and 2.07

A week during 2.07 and 2.08

A few days between 2.08 and 2.09

Another week during 2.09 to 2.11

Three weeks between 2.11 and 2.13

Two weeks between 2.13 and 2.14

A week during 2.14 to 2.16

But, overall, I'm estimating the events of 2.16 "Plan 99" take place 15-16 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

THE SEASON 3 TIMELINE BREAKDOWN

Unlike the previous two seasons, Season 3 is very compressed. Outside of the time-jump within 3.01 "Confined," the entire season takes place over the course of 5-6 weeks. Not months. Weeks.

Now, again, I actually think 3.02 "Paths Unknown" takes place during the five-month time-jump within 3.01. But that doesn't really matter.

As we see from Omega's tally marks, the end of 3.01 takes place about 5.5 months after 2.16 "Plan 99." So, we have our between-seasons time-jump spelled out for us this time.

This means the end of 3.01 "Confined" takes place 21-22 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

Skipping over 3.02, episode 3.03 "Shadows of Tantiss" seems to take place within a few days of the end of 3.01. We see that Omega is still being monitored closely after her outburst in the lurca kennels; and Hemlock told Nala Se in 3.01 that the Emperor would be arriving soon to check on their progress, which he does in 3.03. Heck, maybe 3.03 takes place the day after 3.01, but I’ll give a little wiggle room and say it’s been a few days.

Then, we know that the beginning of 3.03 to the end of 3.05 all takes place in a very short amount of time. Maybe a week.

3.04 "A Different Approach" takes place immediately after 3.03, and no more than a day or two passes between the end of 3.04 and the beginning of 3.05 "The Return."

So, from the end of 3.01 to the end of 3.05, two weeks have passed at most.

The gap between 3.05 and 3.06 is the only span of time in S3 we don't have any solid indicators about. It clearly wasn't too long, as Howzer talks about Crosshair escaping Tantiss like it happened fairly recently. Overall, I'd guess it's been maybe a week or two since Crosshair and Omega escaped Tantiss.

Then, 3.07 takes place immediately after 3.06.

Excluding 3.10 "Identity Crisis," we know that 3.08-3.11 all take place within a short amount of time. No more than 2-3 days seem to pass between episodes, and no more than 2-3 days passes within each episode. In total, I'd say these three episodes take place over the course of two weeks.

Thus, I'm guessing 4-5 weeks, or about a month, passes from the end of 3.01 "Confined" to the beginning of 3.11 "Point of No Return."

Then, we know the timeline 3.11 between 3.15 is very short because all the episodes take place almost immediately after each other. The only exception is between 3.12 and 3.13, when maybe 12-24 hours passes based on Omega's movements in the Vault and her brothers' plans to infiltrate the orbital station.

You can round up and say a week, but that almost seems generous to me. Maybe a work week. Like the Empire invaded Pabu Monday night and Omega & co. were back on Pabu Friday morning.

Overall, I think the beginning of 3.11 "Point of No Return" to the end of 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived" spans 3-5 days.

To recap:

5.5 months from the end of 2.16 "Plan 99" to the end of 3.01 "Confined"

A week from the end of 3.01 to the end of 3.05

A week between 3.05 and 3.06/3.07

Three weeks during 3.06/3.07 to 3.11

A week during 3.11 to 3.15

Again, outside of the time-jump within 3.01, the entirety of Season 3 takes place over 1-2 months if we're looking at the larger post-"Aftermath" timeframe.

Overall, I'm estimating the showdown on Tantiss and Hemlock's death in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived" takes place about 22-23 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

We know it's not more than 24 months after the war ends, because Wookieepedia would list Hemlock's death in 17 BBY instead of 18 BBY. So no more than 24 calendar months can pass between "The Bad Batch" series premiere and series finale.

But, accounting for things that happen within the show, 22-23 months seems about right. Like, it's been almost two calendar years, but not quite.

So, to give a real-world example, if Palpatine gave his "Revenge of the Sith" speech to reorganize into the Galactic Empire on Jan. 1, 2022, then the big showdown on Tantiss takes place in October or November 2023.

That means:

If Omega was 12 years old when her brothers met her on Kamino, she was 13-14 during the showdown on Tantiss.

After his inhibitor chip activated, Crosshair was separated from his brothers for more than 18 months before finally reconciling with them in 3.05 "The Return."

The Bad Batch worked for Cid for over a year, and she still betrayed them.

Phee and Tech's ~situationship~ might've lasted half-a-year between their first meeting in 2.01 "Spoils of War" and his death in 2.16 "Plan 99."

When Crosshair sent the Plan 88 message, the Bad Batch hadn't seen or heard from him in 8-9 months (since the Fall of Kamino).

Omega only got to spend 15-16 months with Tech before his death in 2.16 “Plan 99.” 😭

Crosshair hadn't seen his brothers for over a year between the Fall of Kamino and escaping Tantiss with Omega.

Omega and Crosshair only spent about 7 months together during the show (5.5 on Tantiss and 1.5 after their escape), and most of that was off-screen. 🙁

Apparently, more time passed between S1 and S2 than during S3 (excluding the time jump and epilogue). Seriously. From the end of 3.01 to the final showdown on Tantiss, the Bad Batch had a very insane and stressful 5-6 weeks. They all looked like they could use a nap in that final group shot under the tree, and I don't blame them!

All the clones (except Omega) aged 3-4 biological years over the course of the show. So, if Hunter & co. were biologically 22 when they met Omega on Kamino, they'd be about 24-25 when they finally settle down on Pabu.

Not sure how this will help people, but I wanted to share it because I've been thinking about how insane this show's timeline -- how loosey-goosey it is in some places while being super-rigid in others.

So, enjoy!

Dame Maggie Smith

1934-2024

Barbie (written by Greta Gerwig, delivered by America Ferrera)

This is the magic lucky word count. Reblog for creativity juice. It might even work, who knows.

Workbooks to improve executive functioning

Since the post I made last night about improving executive functioning was so popular, I figured I should pull these out of my comments and give them their own post, in case it's helpful for people.

I have worked with the publishers of all of the books linked below and can vouch for their psychology books. The publisher of most of them, New Harbinger, is an extremely credible evidence-based psychology publisher.

Obvious disclaimer that everyone's brain is different and what works for someone else may not work for you.

Is there evidence that executive functioning can be improved? Yes. This book appears to be a very thorough overview of the field, and contains both advocates and detractors of cognitive training, for a balanced perspective. From the table of contents, I would really recommend jumping straight to Part 3: Developmental Perspectives for executive functioning (EF) writ large.

Certain therapy modalities are specifically designed for skill-building in areas like impulsivity, decision-making, emotional regulation, and cognitive flexibility, all of which are EF skills or very dependent on EF skills. Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) is probably the best field to look at for these - skill-building in those areas is its core goal.

Some DBT workbooks:

The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook: Practical DBT Exercises for Learning Mindfulness, Interpersonal Effectiveness, Emotion Regulation, and Distress Tolerance

The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook for Teens

There are also a lot of workbooks for ADHD that are sometimes more broad but also can help with executive functioning:

The Adult ADHD and Anxiety Workbook: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Skills to Manage Stress, Find Focus, and Reclaim Your Life

The CBT Workbook for Adult ADHD: Evidence-Based Exercises to Improve Your Focus, Productivity, and Wellbeing

The Neurodivergence Skills Workbook for Autism and ADHD

General executive functioning workbooks:

The Executive Functioning Workbook for Teens

Executive Functioning Workbook for Adults: Exercises to Help You Get Organized, Stay Focused, and Achieve Your Goals

Hope these are helpful to someone!!

By the way, you can improve your executive function. You can literally build it like a muscle.

Yes, even if you're neurodivergent. I don't have ADHD, but it is allegedly a thing with ADHD as well. And I am autistic, and after a bunch of nerve damage (severe enough that I was basically housebound for 6 months), I had to completely rebuild my ability to get my brain to Do Things from what felt like nearly scratch.

This is specifically from ADDitude magazine, so written specifically for ADHD (and while focused in large part on kids, also definitely includes adults and adult activities):

ADDitude

How to Sharpen Executive Functions: Activities to Hone Brain Skills

Executive functioning skills range from working memory to cognitive flexibility to inhibitory control, and beyond. They power our daily func

Here's a link on this for autism (though as an editor wow did that title need an editor lol):

Kenneth Roberson, Ph.D.

Enhancing Executive Functioning Difficulties in Adults with Autism

Practical Strategies for Enhancing Executive Functioning Difficulties in Adults With Autism - Living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) as

Resources on this aren't great because they're mainly aimed at neurotypical therapists or parents of neurdivergent children. There's worksheets you can do that help a lot too or thought work you can do to sort of build the neuro-infrastructure for tasks.

But a lot of the stuff is just like. fun. Pulling from both the first article and my own experience:

Play games or video games where you have to make a lot of decisions. Literally go make a ton of picrews or do online dress-up dolls if you like. It helped me.

Art, especially forms of art that require patience, planning ahead, or in contrast improvisation

Listening to longform storytelling without visuals, e.g. just listening regularly to audiobooks or narrative podcasts, etc.

Meditation

Martial arts

Sports in general

Board games like chess or Catan (I actually found a big list of what board games are good for building what executive functioning skills here)

Woodworking

Cooking

If you're bad at time management play games or video games with a bunch of timers

Things can be easier. You might always have a disability around this (I certainly always will), but it can be easier. You do not have to be this stuck forever.

My theory of adhd management is that in order to focus there are 4 things that need to be sufficiently occupied:

Eyes

Ears

Hands (or body)

Brain

And if you aren’t occupying them enough or there’s too many things demanding the use of one, it’ll start to wreck havoc on your ability to do things.

So for example, listening to a podcast. This occupies your ears and brain as you focus on both listening and processing what you hear, but it leaves your hands and eyes completely without anything to do. If you tried to sit down and just listen to a podcast by itself you’d probably get unbearably bored and stop doing it.

But if you pair that activity with something that uses your hands and eyes, like a craft, household chore, or commute, suddenly you’re fully plugged in and can in fact focus better on both tasks than you could if you tried doing them separately.

It’s also why you can’t listen to a podcast while doing homework; you’re trying to use your brain for two different tasks. To occupy your ears while doing homework (which is already using eyes, brain, and hands) you need something for your ears that doesn’t require your brain: music. Specifically music that doesn’t use too much brain power, which is why some people prefer instrumentals or songs in other languages.

Hyperfixation and sensory overload change this by moving the threshold for how much sensory input you need to be able to function. If I’m extremely focused on a craft project (eyes, hands, brain) I might not even need something for my ears; my interest in the project makes up for it. If i’ve had a very overwhelming day, trying to listen to an audiobook while I do some stretches could be too much to process. My brain needs a break.

Video games, which pretty much universally occupy all 4 areas, are basically instant, easy focus wrapped up in a neat little bow. No wonder adhd-havers tend to love them.

If you’re struggling with a task, try looking at which areas it occupies and which are left unattended. Then try to find something enjoyable to fill those gaps, and see if that helps.

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

I loooove your tbb fics! Can I pretty please request a pervy tech fic? Like anywhere between a bit awkward kinda pervy to full weirdo :))

Word Count: 6.4k Pairing: tech x fem!reader Warnings: voyeurism, piv, creampie, panty fetish, peeping tom, exhibitionism, breeding kink Summary: Tech discovers a night time hobby of yours, one he doesn't realize is solely for him ps: imperfect proofreading

As your neighbor, Tech was aware of some of your avenues for relaxing. Your patio was often strewn with evidence of projects and hobbies- an underused hammock full of blankets and books, altered clothing strung up to dry, tubes of paint, and even a few tools from when you swindled Tech into teaching you how to repair your comm devices. Hobbies that, as seen by your failure to repair said devices, were often unfruitful.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to show up unannounced to the Batch’s home with a dinner invitation. Each time you’d have a feast prepared big enough to feed a family of Wreckers. Tech learned those were the worst weeks for you.

Some of your other outlets were less obvious, and by all means too private, for most to notice. Then again, most didn’t have a direct view into your bedroom. A view you often left unguarded and on full display.

Tech couldn’t blame you for not realizing your vulnerabilities. Afterall, his sight line was little more than a sliver. More than enough to witness you and your more nocturnal hobbies.

The first time he witnessed you was by chance while calibrating his visor. Its sensors picked up on movement coming from the direction of your home. There was a small bit of light coming from your bedroom, but everything was still - you weren’t even in sight.

Until you walked by your window in a robe. You walked to your bedside, just at the periphery of his view, and began digging through your night stand. With your back to him, you straightened out, tossed whatever item you found on the bed, and dropped your robe.

You wore only panties.

Up to that point, Tech only ever saw a naked female human through the screen of his datapad. Between battle and traveling with his brothers, he’d hardly even been alone with a female. 

Tech rushed to his window, zooming in enough to see the freckles of your back. In person and in motion - you were breathtaking.

When you revealed your front Tech nearly passed out. An ache bloomed in his pants so suddenly, his hand slipped over his crotch. He’d applied pressure to ease the ache and unintentionally replaced it with pleasure.

As you climbed into bed, Tech noted every bit of you that jiggled and the shadows that accentuated your curves and committed them all to memory. After cozying into your bed, you licked your fingers in a way that dried Tech’s mouth. Your fingers slipped into your panties and began rubbing circles beneath the fabric.

The noises that followed were lewd, low, and put a rhythm in Tech’s hand. From outside of his pants, Tech worked himself in time with the lazy circle of your hands. Your hips gyrated, head arched into your pillow, and your free hand found a nipple.

That night Tech didn’t get to find out what exactly it was you’d brandished from your night stand. He didn’t realize how close he’d edged until you pinched yourself and curled forward on a moan. The sound of you shuddered through him and pushed him into ecstasy without even taking himself out of his pants.

Instantly, Tech receded into his room feeling more exposed than you actually were. Panting, Tech fell onto his bed and plucked his helmet off. He twisted it to face him and, as he expected, found it wasn’t recording. A mistake he wouldn’t make twice.

Then again, Tech reasoned it was most likely something he wouldn’t see twice.

The whole experience made bumping into you the next day all the more jarring. He’d been too lost in his datapad to notice Hunter was no longer leading him through the busy street. Hunter stepped off the path to tend to Omega and only a few steps later you and Tech collided. 

You’d been equally as distracted, landing you both on the ground with you sprawled out over Tech. He lay beneath you, stunned and overtly aware of how you teetered over his leg. The sweet spot between your legs was pressed tight against his thigh.

Tech wanted to grip your hips and roll you against him just to hear the sounds you made the night before up close. He settled for sitting forward and letting gravity slide you against him.

Embarrassed, you steadied yourself by his shoulders, laughing, “Bet you wish you had your armor on now.”

“It crossed my mind.” He said, though he was sure your intentions for the armor differed from his. It was going to be difficult to hide the amount of blood rushing to his groin - an issue a well placed codpiece would have nullified.

His urgency to get the both of you back up grew with the ache in his cock. Pulling you against him, he used his military finesse to haul you upright. Taking advantage of the situation, and a risky gamble along with it, he held you against him as he lowered you to your feet. Your pelvis and abdomen brushed his groin and he could only hope you didn’t notice anything else.

“Are you alright?” He angled his head around you, trying to spot any bumps or scrapes.

Your hands slipped from his shoulders, resting on his chest with a light pat. “Perfectly alright.” After another few moments of standing in his arms, you craned your head back with a coy smile. “Tech?”

His name in your mouth turned his insides liquid, rendering his usual composure less certain.. “Yes?”

“You can let go now.”

The firm grip he had on your ass fully registered and in an instant his hands were in the air. He didn’t blurt out an apology, it was an innocent mistake - or at least he knew he could pass it off as one. One that, now that he got a feel of you, he fully intended to make again.

Hunter and Omega walked up beside the two of you, further breaking Tech’s focus. Looking between you, Hunter smirked, “You two take a tumble?”

You kept Tech’s eyes a moment longer, then shifted a pleasant smile on Hunter and Omega, “Just me being clumsy.”

“Hunter,” Omega pulled at Hunter’s arm, turning an excited eye on you, “Can she come tonight?” That caught your full attention, you invited them over far more often than was reciprocated. 

“That’s up to her,” Hunter replied, eyes still twinkling with mild amusement at the earlier scene.

Glancing at Tech for some cluing in and getting nothing, you amusedly asked, “And what would that be?”

Omega bounced in place, excitedly telling you about a game night Shep and Lyanna had planned. While it sounded like a lovely time, you had to turn her down.

You crouched to Omega’s eye level, “Thanks Omega, but I have a quiet night in planned.” With a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, you promised, “Next time though.”

Tech had fully planned on participating in the game night, and was even looking forward to being the ultimate victor, but his plans changed the moment he heard yours. That night, Omega tried her best to convince her brother to follow through yet he remained firm.

He excused himself from a night out under the guise of needing to address a technical malfunction in the home, a pretext no one had questioned given his usual dedication. Yet, there he was, not soldering wires or calibrating sensors, but dimming the lights of his domicile to feign vacancy.

You were under the impression the Batch wouldn’t be home and Tech intended to keep it that way. If you risked discovery while they were home, he was desperate to find out what you’d do with more privacy.

Before that he needed to learn what was in your nightstand and only had a limited window of opportunity to do so. Where you were, he wasn’t certain, but Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker left for Shep’s and your lights were out. Just enough cover for him to get in through your window.

He stood near your bed, clenching his fists as the vision of you contorting flashed through him. Pushing through the temptation of the memory, he pivoted to the nightstand only to pause when he felt something beneath his foot.

Tech stepped back, knelt, and plucked up a pair of familiar underwear. The same as you’d worn the night before. The material was thin, soft, and slightly damp. He’d done enough follow up reading last night to know why.

He was about to examine them closer when the sudden sound of your front door sliding open jolted him back to reality. On instinct, he ducked low, slipping out the window just in time to avoid being caught. Outside, Tech hid in the shadows, his breath shallow as he peered past your curtains. He still had, unintentionally, your garments in hand.

You came into your room faster than he’d expected, flipping on the light and immediately shedding your outerwear. Mindlessly, Tech rubbed the pair he had between his thumb and forefinger as he watched you leave a trail of clothing until only panties left.

Padding over to your bedside, you leaned over your nightstand, giving Tech a full view of the thin strip of fabric between your legs. Without thought, Tech brought your panties to his face and took in the scent of you, wishing he was experiencing it firsthand. 

When you turned, he had to slide back an inch just to avoid your eyes. Just as he’d done, you paused at your nightstand. Something was off to you. The realization dawned slowly, and your movements stilled entirely when you noticed the absence of your underwear on the floor.

As you turned slightly, looking out the window with suspicion, Tech held his breath. He felt a rush of anxiety as you slowly drew closer, until your suspicion gave way to a smile. You held a little device in your hand Tech didn’t recognize even as you sauntered over.

Your focus was beyond him on the empty home next door. And by Tech’s calculations you were looking directly at his room.

You stood in a blind spot for Tech. He had to retreat far enough that he couldn’t see anything but your silhouette in the light. Tech watched your shadow hold onto the window frame, heard a sudden buzzing, and ached as you touched the device to your body.

On contact your entire body flinched from anything but pain. He slowly lowered your underwear to his lap. The sinful sounds coming from you puppeted Tech into carefully undoing his pants to expose himself. 

With your panties in hand, Tech gripped himself as he continued to watch your shadows move with your escalating noises. In a way, he felt close to you beyond his proximity. He glanced down at the soft fabric smoothing over his cock, remembering why they were damp and how you’d looked pleasuring yourself.

Looking back to your shadow, he nipped every urge to reveal himself. He knew nothing about approaching this situation or how he’d convince you into partnering with him. And though he knew he wouldn’t resort to it, he did contemplate begging.

You’d been fantasizing about Tech since his squad first arrived and, although he seemed to show little interest in you, you kept a keen eye on him. You’d noticed your underwear weren’t where you thought you left them. As opposed to concern, a desperate idea clouded you.

What if he finally spotted you?

For some time you’d been on an exhibitionist streak, willing Tech to just look your way. You knew it was a long shot and it still heated your blood. Perhaps curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Your grip on the window frame was the only thing keeping you on your feet as you notched up the setting on your vibrator. You were too wrapped up in a fantasy of Tech’s hand at your clit to keep your eyes open until the fantasy positioned him behind you.

Just the idea of him penetrating you took you to the cusp of release and tossed you over. As the heat in your coil boiled over, you curled forward, barely staying up right and moaning loud enough that, had he been home, Tech would’ve definitely heard you.

A plea to the vision of Tech spilled from you, “Oh, right there, yes! I’m cumming for you, Tech.”

In normal conversation, your saying his name distracted him. Calling to him, pleading for him, instantly ruined his composure and his orgasm quickly followed yours. He came into your panties, working hard to keep his breathing quiet despite the ecstasy fogging him.

Exhausted, you slumped onto the window pane. You leaned back, eyes drooped shut and a lazy smile lilting your lips. On a sigh, you shrugged and shoved off. As Tech began tucking himself away, he leaned around the window in hopes to catch one last glimpse of you.

Just in time, he caught the tail end of you stripping your underwear off, leaving them where they fell, and walking out of your room.

Tech did a quick risk analysis, weighed his options, and quickly reached over the threshold of your window. He snatched the garment from the floor and slipped into the night.

He returned well before his siblings returned, careful to keep the lights dim as to not raise your suspicions beyond what they already were. Tech couldn’t help himself from checking on your movements, disappointed to find you clothed and casual, eager to relive the moment you called for him.

It became a game for Tech, one of piecing together the patterns of your schedule to catch you alone

Weeks later, in the comfort of your home, Tech helped you repair some comm devices. One in particular, tied to your most incessant client, immediately came to life with an angry message of dissatisfaction and a new deadline. 

Stress pushed you over the edge and unfortunately, now conveniently for him, in front of Tech. You almost threw the device against a wall, a knee jerk response that broke the device in the first place, but Tech intercepted it.

“If you’d like my continued assistance,” Tech scolded, setting the device on the table between you. “I’d advise against immediately rendering my repairs useless.”

You didn’t apologize, choosing rather to slump down in your chair with your head on the table. Mumbling into the wood grain you said, “I should’ve just asked you to do this tomorrow.”

Tech set about fixing the last device, sparing you a quick glance. “You can always reply to clients tomorrow.”

A long, low groan came from you as you pushed back into your chair. “Always tomorrow. There’s always something tomorrow.” Leaning with your elbows on the table, your head fell into your hands. “Even on a day off, I’m constantly stressed.”

Tech looked up from his repairs, twirling his spanner to point in your direction. “If you do not learn how to manage your stress, your cortisol levels will quickly become a detriment to you both physically and mentally.”

By the time Tech finished his nagging, your head rested in one hand and while your other strummed out an impatient rhythm. Fully irritated, you sassed back, “Tech, I’m beyond that point by now.”

“Then I suggest you focus on finding a suitable outlet.” Tech shrugged, lowering his visor and spinning his spanner back into position.

And, as your neighbor, Tech was already aware of some of your avenues for relaxing. Some that he was eager to encourage.

With the final repairs almost finished and seeing an opportunity to spend another evening in your company, Tech set aside his spanner and removed his helmet. 

As he gathered his things, Tech said, “I think the rest can wait until tomorrow. You should get some rest.” 

Almost on cue, Omega came through your front door, bounding over to where you and Tech sat. 

Bouncing with energy she shook your arm excitedly. “Game night at Shep’s! You’ll come, won’t you?”

Your promise to Omega snuck up on you, having completely slipped your mind for weeks. Hating to disappoint her, but exhausted all the same, you massaged your temples and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Omega. I have a lot of work - not tonight.”

She immediately deflated, pouting. “Ahh, you work too much.” Narrowing a look at Tech she muttered, “Both of you. Tech’s been holed up most evenings too.” 

A sneaking suspicion crept up your spine and, as if he felt it too, Tech stiffened. You’d always noticed that the home was rarely left with only one of the Batch and you’d never noticed Tech alone in the evenings - you knew because you always looked for him.

Lifting your head from your hands you smiled innocently at Tech, who was pointedly looking anywhere but at you. “I didn’t realize.” You mumbled.

“Why else would the lights be on when we’re out?”

You kept your eyes steady on Omega, unwilling to let her in on the growing secret between you and Tech. Those lights were rarely on at nights without someone inside.

You chose to roll your shoulders as lazy ‘I don’t know’ as opposed to answering, your eyes sliding to Tech who was busying himself to follow Omega out the door. 

Omega gave you a poor, pitying look, gripping your shoulder as if to imbue you with strength. “You know where we are if you need a break.”

Humming, you barely heard her, too focused on thinking back on all the small sounds outside your window, misplaced items, and creeping feelings. The two clones were making their exit - Tech his escape - as you quickly slid from your chair and a comm device hidden in your palm.

Without permission, you lunged on Tech and slipped your arms around his torso. Under the guise of a thankful gesture, you tucked the device into one of his many pockets. It was only up to the Force if he’d notice.

You pulled back and held his upper arms for one last smile. “I appreciate everything, Tech,” you finished, keeping your smile warm but your eyes sharp, searching for any hint of reaction to the small device now concealed on him.

Tech paused, his body rigid under your touch for a moment before he managed a stiff nod. "Of course," he replied, his voice as neutral as the mask he often wore. But beneath that mask, you caught a fleeting glance of surprise, or perhaps suspicion.

As Tech turned to leave, his usual movements seemed slightly off, a subtle indication that your actions might have unsettled him. He made no sign of noticing the device, but you knew better than to assume anything with Tech.

The two left and you settled into planning your approach for the night. It was risky, bordering presumptuous, to assume Tech had been watching you all those nights. More than anything it was exciting. It was everything you’d been vying for.

Carefully, you monitored the Batch’s movements until Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega left for Shep’s. Different from other nights, the lights stayed on. 

A smile hit you as you added another piece of evidence towards Tech being caught. The lights in the majority of the house were on, sans the lights in Tech’s room. The sensation of being watched, residual or otherwise, whispered to you again.

You kept your comm device close as you set your plan in motion. Dressed in your evening robe, you rested against your open windowsill. Mindful of maintaining a casual air, you attempted to relax into the space by letting the night air brush your skin. Deliberately, you lifted one leg to rest on the sill, allowing the fabric of your robe to drape away enticingly from your thighs.

The fantasy of exposing yourself to Tech versus the very real possibility almost choked your plans. Still, the temptation was too great and your fingers found their way between your thighs.

Pleasure dissolved any remaining apprehension as you fixed your eyes on Tech’s room. Was he watching right now? You always looked for the red glow of his goggles, its absence always the reminder that your imagination was likely getting away from you.

As your core warmed and the heat of your arousal bolstered you, you pulled your comm device to your face. On baited breath, you activated the device and, as if speaking too loudly would unravel your hopes, quietly said, “Tech.”

His name echoed as if the relay was nearby. You froze, attempting nonchalance as you repeated yourself. Once again there was an echo. One that was much closer than you anticipated. 

Cautiously slow, you scoped the area outside your home all the way to Tech’s empty window. Your heart rate nearly burst your eardrums until Tech’s voice nearly stopped it altogether.

Tech cringed as he sighed, “I am to your left.”

You twisted sharply, finding Tech within reaching distance and shaking his head in his hand. Excitement trembled through you as he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

His expression was a delicate mix of dejection and frustration. “You slipped it on me when you hugged me, didn’t you?”

“You caught me.” You couldn’t hide the humor you found in your own words.

Not one to let things drag and ready to extradite himself from the situation, Tech got to his feet to excuse himself. All thoughts of escape vanished when his eyes inevitably fell to your lap. Your hand was no longer in the mix, but your robe remained open.

He only allowed himself a glance at your exposed sex before meeting your eyes again, now with a glint in them. Since discovering your nighttime habits, Tech planned for an array of your reactions should he be discovered. None of them involved outright glee.

You extended a hand to him, a silent request for assistance. Tech accepted, noting the hand he accepted had been the one between your legs. He assisted you to your feet, and when he tried to let go, you tightened your grip, holding him in place. 

With a small step back, you gave another silent request - another he accepted.

Tech followed your lead, ducking in through the window and breaching the space he’d spent so long cataloging. In the moment though, his focus was only on you as he tried to gauge your thoughts. 

You were smiling despite discovering him in such a compromising position. In fact, he noted, you were in a similarly compromising position and yet you carelessly floated past him. He turned with you, surprised to see you drawing your curtains.

“I thought you preferred them open.” He quipped.

You paused, your hands still on the curtains, and looked back over your shoulder with a coy smile. “Only if I think it’s you looking in,” you murmured, sending a shiver of delight through him.

Your response straightened his posture. It’d been a challenge, but Tech had long accepted that he was a part of your sexual fantasies. Being the keystone of those fantasies was never even a consideration for him. 

Puzzled by his own oversight and with a pang of wounded pride, he asked, genuinely curious, “Might I ask when you discovered me?”

“Just now.” Your brevity and upbeat tone enticed Tech to follow you as you stepped past him. A shrug of your shoulders drifted your robe farther down your shoulders. 

“It was always just me hoping, but-” you paused as you climbed onto your bed, the movement causing your robe to ride up just enough to tease Tech. You settled back against your pillows with a contented sigh and continued, "learning you’ve been sneaking around in the dark certainly aided my suspicions."

Feeling an ounce of shame, Tech’s shoulders fell slightly with his confidence but shored up immediately. 

At some point, Tech had convinced himself that your exhibitionism, while mildly on display, was likely something not intended for a true audience. In fact, outside of his name on your lips in the throes of pleasure, he’d rarely received your sole attention.

Yet the more of your smile he saw the more sure he was that he’d been wrong about all of it. And, for once, Tech was thrilled to be wrong.

“Are you going to join me?” The soft question brought Tech back to the present, the foot you outstretched to him inviting to come closer. His brown eyes raked up the soft skin of your leg all the way to where you propped yourself against the pillows.

You swallowed, eyes wavering for a moment. “Unless this is too much.”

His lips perked into a subdued, cocky smile. You were a vision just for him. One more that became more unexpected with each breath. His fingers ached to explore every inch of your skin.

Tech took the final step onto your bed, smoothing his hand over your foot and up your shin as he moved in on you. “Oh, this is far from too much.” 

As he climbed towards you, you settled further into your pillows, bracing yourself for Tech. “And I’d be remiss to not witness up close what I’ve studied from afar.”

Settling in close, Tech sat back on his feet, and adjusted his goggles as he took you in. Head tilted down, Tech looked up through his goggles as his free hand trailed up your inner thigh. When his fingers were inches from the apex of your thighs, his other hand quickly followed suit. 

Each second Tech strung out between you only enflamed your urge to shove him back and find out exactly what he tasted like. But you patiently waited, feeling your mounting arousal beginning to leak out of you for the technician. 

Tech leaned in, those brown eyes pinning you in place as his fingers pressed into you and spread your legs to accommodate him. The sudden rush of cool air over your wet folds made you realize just how eager you were for Tech.

It took only a second’s glance for Tech to realize the same. He kept his touch light on your legs as he sat back again, this time with you on full display for him. Tech removed his gloves, caught your eyes again and cocked his head to the side in amusement.

“I never realized patience was your strong suit.” The low, teasing tone of his voice set you on edge

On an aroused shudder, your knees made to squeeze together but Tech was quick to keep them apart. “It appears I spoke to soon.” He commented in the same amused tone. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve been so eager for me to see.”

Your hand was between your legs before his sentence was finished and his hand blocked yours before your could manage more than a light touch. In place of your touch, Tech’s fingers slid over your as he leaned across your lap.

His fingers, more calloused than you expected, pulled a whine from you as he gave you barely there swipes. While he teased you, he explored your night stand. “I hope you’re not being shy now,” He said as you heard drawer shut and he came back to your front.

Tech drifted close enough to consume your entire line of sight. As he spoke, Tech dipped two cool digits into you, coaxing you forward. His calm exterior cracked when he first moved his fingers in an exploratory curl.

He swallowed, eyes dipping to where his fingers disappeared inside you. Hesitation, unsureness, flashed through him. He cleared his throat, meeting your eyes and making another slow curl of his fingers, this time with more pressure.

“How does that feel?” His question, accented by a break in his voice, told you this was something new for him. Your response came in clenching around him, fueling his confidence.

On a rushed, hushed, breath you pleaded with the man, “Keep going.”

“I plan on it. But first,” Tech paused, placing a familiar object in your hand. “I’d like you to use this.”

A new wave of blood flushed through you as you followed suit. Maintaining eye contact, you switched the vibrator on, the sound hitching Tech’s breath. The feel of it, the shock it sent through you, rinsed the tension from his shoulders. 

Only the hum of the toy hung in the inches between you. With every motion of his fingers, your breathing hastened. Tech adjusted his touch with your reactions, but when he saw a small smile come to you Tech knew he’d found something good.

Breathlessly, Tech choked out, “I’d say that feels good.”

He added pressure to his rhythm and your patience immediately wore out, tearing your resolution in half as you angled your lips up to his. The moan that came from him set something loose in you. The both of you moved in on the other, your hands barely fitting between your bodies.

His lips parted the moment your tongue brushed him. For a moment, his mouth stayed open and still, only his tongue twitching as he let yours roam over his until his lips closed around your tongue, gently sucking on the soft flesh.

The sensation melted you, giving Tech the chance to roll you onto your back. Tech fell with you and never broke the kiss. There was no hesitation remaining in Tech, only hunger and a desperation to hear your next noise.

A warm, mounting pressure inside you finally made you break away from Tech and toss the toy aside. Turning just enough to pull your lips from his you said, “Tech, I need you.”

Tech didn’t ease up on tasting you, laying kisses down your chin to the crook of your neck. Between kisses he responded, “You have me.” The hand you pushed against his groin had him rolling his weight against you on a moan. 

“All of you,” You insisted. 

Tech pulled back sharply, suddenly slowing the momentum between you. His eyes were wide, darting between yours. “You want-”

Your hands cut him short as they pulled in by his pants. “Yes.” The word was a demand.

In some shade of shock, Tech gently pushed himself off of you while easing his fingers from you. On a brave inhale, Tech’s hands took place of yours, freeing you to relax back. A flush singed his cheeks and tips of his ears while he kept his eyes down on the task at hand.

You watched while he freed himself, casually slipping out of your robe to bare all of yourself. When he was one motion away from doing the same, his eyes found you again. You felt it, the mutual anticipation for this very moment.

His eyes drifted over you, devouring the feeling of seeing you nude just for him. Tech’s eyes followed your hand as it moved to the bud between your legs. You rolled one finger over your clit and he met your gaze again.

“You are as breathtaking up close as I imagined.”

A swell of heat met your touch at his words. You were certain of it - this man was going to completely undo you.

He bumped his goggles into place with a knuckle, eyes falling to the small distance between you. “There is one problem.”

You leaned up slightly, confusion, and a drop of horror, coming over you. In a mix of impatience and worry you asked, "Like what?”

Tech bit his lip, finally revealing himself to you. “I don’t believe I’m going to fit,” he confessed.

It didn’t take you long to see why he’d think that. You’d fantasized plenty of times about this man, what he’d taste and feel like, and you’d imagined a dozen times what his cock would look like. You were far from disappointed.

He was long, the length of him extending beyond the hold he had on himself. His girth you hadn’t expected, but it did not disappoint. If he thought two of his fingers was what you could handle, his girth would certainly give him pause about your limit.

A sudden thought stilled you.

“Tech,” you ventured softly. “Is this your first time?” Your question didn’t soften him, but he did pass you a look that was hard to read.

“Is that a negative attribute?”

“No!” You pushed up onto an elbow. Careful not to break the heat between you, you asked, “You want this - you want me, right?”

Tech swept his hand over his cock, pumping himself in response. “Clearly.”

Slowly lowering yourself, you flashed a feline smile at him. “Then you’ll fit.” You stretched a hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in another invitation.

He let you guide him back over you, his expression softening as he caged you below him. You smoothed your hands up his arms to his shoulders, bracing yourself as you gyrated your hips in search of him.

Tech kept himself propped over you, holding your eyes as he brought the head of his cock to you. You both inhaled at the connection. There was no pause, no further reassurances needed, as he pushed past your threshold.

The noises you made mirrored his own as the flared edge of his glans spread you and his length speared you. As always, Tech was at least partially right- his size was more than you’d been prepared for. 

It was a conscious effort to not clench around him and remain relaxed as he slid inside you.

When he could move no further, Tech loosed his breath and ducked his head. He observed the spot you were joined as he shallowly pulled out and thrust back in, deeper this time as if he was seeing just how much he could push.

A mesmerized look came over him as he kept that tempo of short, deep thrusts until you couldn’t hold back anymore. Weeks of anticipation and a wild need to fuck this man made you think you wouldn’t last long when you finally had him. How he pinpointed your sweet spot while fingering you added evidence to the thought.

The way he filled you, stretched you into ecstasy, proved you right. 

Tilting your hips against him, you worked with Tech for longer, faster motions. Drawing closer, you caught him in a kiss that drove his cock deep against your womb. You moaned into the kiss, continuing to roll your hips against him while your clit ached for release.

Mumbling into the kiss you admitted, “Tech, I can’t take much more.”

Tech pulled back just enough to confidently say, “I assumed that was the point.”

Your admission didn’t inspire Tech to stop his work. He picked up his pace again, giving you long, slow thrusts as one hand extended beside you. Gliding his tongue over your lips, he tasted your mouth as you had his. 

His tongue was trailing yours when he squeezed your between you and vibrating pleasure hit your core.

Gasping against him and splayed out on the bed in front of him, only able to arch against the pleasure coursing through you.

“T-Tech!” You called out in warning.

Tech grit his teeth against your scaling release. “Don’t hold back, I won’t either.” He’d been ready from the moment he felt the velvet of your insides.

Unwilling to miss the full view of your orgasm, Tech propped himself up to see you writhing, laid out before him. With one hand Tech positioned your hips towards him  and with the other he kept your toy in place. 

He had yet witnessed your eyes roll back as they did just then. He drove into you until an open mouthed smile bloomed over you and you convulsed around him. His eyes widened, but his pace didn’t slow.

“Are you?”

Wordlessly and avidly you nodded as your orgasm crashed through you. White hot bliss threw stars into your vision. Waves of pleasure broke what little of your composure remained, rendering you dazed and moaning.

It was too much for Tech. Euphoria he’d never experienced broke free inside him and throbbed through his cock. He’d barely been supporting himself on his knees and they all but gave out as he came inside you, spilling his seed against your womb.

Tech attempted to fuck you through his own release, but ended up seated deep inside you, stretching you with each throb of his cock.

Moments went by with only the two of you panting against each other. Your shaky hands wandered to his shoulders, your fingers curling up over his neck and into his, now slightly damp, hair. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he nuzzled into your touch. “That was magnificent.” Tech sighed.

“Sorry it was so quick.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, still pleasantly raw from all of your noises.

Tech shrugged, eyes shut as he said matter of factly, “The end result is all that matters, I suppose.”

“End result is one way to put it.” You chuckled. A small, anxious part of you spoke up, “Tech.”

He blinked away some of his fog as he hummed in acknowledgment, “What is it?”

“I want to do this again,” you whispered up to him.

Tech rolled his hips into you in response, reminding you that he was still inside you and still more erect than you’d expect. “If we are to succeed, that would be the wisest course of action.”

Your brows furrowed, head pushing back into the pillows to search his face. “Succeed in what?”

“Impregnating you, of course.” Tech saw the realization hit you and his expression mirrored your own. “Is that not what sexual relations are ultimately intended for?”

You opened your mouth, but words didn’t come out, only a bubble of giggling. “Not always.”

A renewed flush heated Tech’s face as the misunderstanding dawned him. You’d rarely seen him embarrassed, but found it charming nonetheless.

In a gentle tease, you probed further, “Is that what you intended?”

“Well, I-” Tech uncharacteristically stammered. He gave a little cough, saying, “I didn’t mind the idea.”

“Of breeding me?” You clarified, bringing your legs around him.

Tech rolled his eyes, recognizing your attempts at instigation. “That is one way to put it.”

Teasing or not the idea of it, of Tech wanting that, stirred something in you. Locking him in with his legs you brought him in for another kiss. “Then we should probably go again.”

He huffed a laugh, conceding, “I would say you are correct.”

taglist: @bruh-myguy-what @jetii @baddest-batchers

Squeezing him until he squeaks like a dog toy

This was absolute perfection, excuse me while I take a cold shower and flap my hands excitedly 😆🫠

A Little Fun

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader / Echo x Medic!Reader

Words: 16,139

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, pretty much pwp let's be honest, but there is some squad family bonding/good-natured ribbing, reader is a known flirt, reader has a nickname, insecure Echo to confident Echo, return of the king (pleasure dom Echo), he talks you through it, Echo's scomp is a paid actor, brat taming?, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, vibrator play, squirting, praise kink, overstimulation, aftercare

Summary: There's something between you and Echo, but despite your best efforts, he's yet to make a move. A night out at 79s changes everything.

A/N: the most self-indulgent thing i’ve ever written. 🙈 do not perceive me

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The music is a wall of sound, a thudding rhythm so loud it's practically a physical force. There's a strobing light show that seems to be designed to make people sick to their stomachs, and the dance floor is so crowded with writhing bodies you can't tell where one person ends and another begins. You're entranced by it, drawn into the pulsing beat. It's like a heartbeat, and you swear it's calling to you, drawing you in.

It's been ages since you were out at a club like this. You never realized how much you missed it. You've spent months fighting battles on countless planets, patching up the squad after every fight, and then going back out and doing it all over again. The only thing that really makes the exhaustion worth it is the promise of something like this—the thrill of a good time, of letting loose and just enjoying yourself.

The song ends and another one takes its place. The music changes, but the crowd doesn't. Everyone on the floor keeps dancing, and you keep right on with them.

You don't know how long you're out there, but after a while you're starting to get worn down. You slip away from a pair of hands around your waist, leaving a trail of apologies in your wake, and head off the floor. There's a booth in the corner of the first floor that the squad has commandeered, a rare commodity at 79s, and you stumble towards it.

You've had enough drinks that you're pleasantly buzzed, and you've lost count of the number of people you've danced with. It's made your body feel alive and hot, the music's thudding beat thrumming through your skin. You haven't had this much fun in months, and for the first time in a long time, you feel free.

"Having fun?" Hunter calls out as you approach. He's sitting on one side of the round booth, next to Crosshair, who has an arm slung casually over the back. You left Wrecker out on the dance floor with a group of Twi'lek women who seem to find his bulk a source of fascination, and Tech is seated on Hunter's other side next to Echo, nursing a drink and watching the room with a passive gaze.

"Of course," you say with a laugh. "You're not?"

"Eh." Crosshair scoffs, not bothering to look over at you. His eyes are trained on the dancers out on the floor. "Not really."

"What about you, Tech?" you ask, leaning against the table and taking a sip of your drink.

"I find the entire affair rather fascinating," he says as he gestures vaguely at the crowd. "All the various forms of sentient expression are...interesting, to say the least."

"And what do you think of my form of expression, Tech?" you ask playfully, putting your hand over your heart and giving him a flirty smile. You take a seat at the end of the booth and lean closer.

Tech, ever immune to your antics, doesn't miss a beat.

"You appear to be expending a lot of energy on a relatively simple activity. However, the results do seem to be pleasing to you."

"What he's trying to say is, you look like you're having a good time," Echo supplies. He has his chin propped on his hand, but he's smiling at you, clearly amused. You meet his gaze and grin back.

"I am having a good time," you confirm. "How about you?"

"It's not exactly my scene," he says, and he gives a shrug. "But I can see why you'd enjoy it."

"If you change your mind and want to dance, just let me know," you tell him. "You know, since I'm already expending all this energy."

"Maybe later," he says.

His smile softens, and you're a little surprised to see it. The last few months have been hard on Echo, and you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him smile like that. He's been working through a lot of guilt and self-loathing, and seeing him smile, even if it's small, is a nice change. It's good to see him loosening up a bit.

"I'll hold you to that," you tell him, and Echo grins and leans back.

"Are you sure you don't want to come out on the dance floor, Tech?" you ask, glancing over at him.

Tech shakes his head. "I prefer not to dance."

"What about you two? Not planning on getting out there?"

"I would sooner stick my hand in a rocket booster than step foot on that dance floor," Crosshair says without looking away from the crowd.

Hunter nods, and he gestures with his bottle. "That goes for me, too."

"Bunch of party poopers," you mutter and take a drink. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."

“There‘s no shortage of people willing to dance with you," Crosshair says, still staring at the crowd, and you can hear the teasing lilt in his voice. "No need to bother with us."

"We wouldn't want to deprive the galaxy of your...talents," Tech says.

"Very funny." You take a long drink and let the conversation drop.

"So," Hunter starts after a long silence. His eyes flicker to Echo and back to you, and he raises a brow. "How many people did you have to beat off with a stick on the dance floor?"

"Not too many," you say. "Only a few."

"Only a few, huh?" Crosshair asks. He sounds skeptical.

"Cross, don't act like you weren't counting every guy I danced with," you retort, and when he doesn't immediately respond, you grin and lean forward, bracing your elbows on the table. "See? Knew it."

"Don't flatter yourself," he says. "I was bored. Had nothing better to do."

"Yeah, yeah," you say, rolling your eyes. "Whatever you say. Don’t worry, none of them are worth mentioning."

“What about that guy who was talking to you earlier?" Echo asks, and he nods over to a spot near the bar. "I saw him buy you a drink. Didn't look like nothing."

"Who, that Mirialan?" You wave a dismissive hand. "Nah, he was cute, but not really my type.”

Echo gives a low hum of acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving yours, and you feel a strange thrill at the attention. You've always loved the way he looks at you. There's something about his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, something warm and knowing and inviting. You’ve caught him looking at you like this plenty of times before, but tonight feels different. It feels almost daring. You sit up straighter and turn toward him.

"And what is your type?" he asks. There's an edge of seriousness to his question, and you consider him for a moment, watching him watch you.

"I like someone who can keep up with me," you say finally, and then, with a playful smile, add, "You know, someone with stamina."

Echo laughs a quiet, low chuckle, and your chest tightens. His laugh is a rare and beautiful thing, and you feel a thrill when you hear it.

"Stamina," he repeats, his voice soft and warm. There's a dazed look in his eye, and he blinks it away and meets your gaze again. “Right.”

The conversation is interrupted when Wrecker comes back to the table, panting and laughing, clearly out of breath. There's a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his cheeks are flushed, but he looks thrilled. He drops into the booth next to you, and the motion shoves you closer to Echo. You feel his leg brush yours under the table, and the sudden touch sends a warm spark shooting up your spine.

"This is great!" he shouts over the music. "Why don't we go out more?"

"Because our lives are a shitshow," Crosshair deadpans, finally turning to look at the rest of the squad.

Wrecker lets out a hearty laugh, and reaches across the table to give Crosshair a good-natured smack on the shoulder. "Ah, don't be so gloomy!"

"I'm not being gloomy, I'm being realistic," Crosshair replies with a scowl, but he softens a bit when Wrecker pulls back and settles into the booth, his arm slung over the back behind you.

"Oh, don't listen to him," Wrecker says. He's turned towards you now, and his arm is pressing against the back of your shoulders. "We should go out more often. You're a great dancer, y'know that?"

"You're not so bad yourself,” you say with a grin. “You're pretty light on your feet for someone so big."

Wrecker lets out a loud, barking laugh, pulling his arm out from behind you to slap his knee. His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but laugh along.

"You hear that, Cross?" he says. "I'm light on my feet."

"You're a regular acrobat," Crosshair drawls, his tone flat, but the hint of a smile plays at his lips.

"See, you're in a good mood!" Wrecker says, his smile growing. He takes a long pull from his drink, and then sets the glass down on the table, turning back to you. “Let’s go back out there! You and me, we'll show these losers how it's done."

"I need a break," you say, holding up a hand to stop him. "Sorry, Wrecker. Maybe later."

"Aw, alright," he says. He's still grinning, and he claps you on the shoulder with a bit more force than necessary. Your body rocks to the side, and you let out a breathless laugh as Echo puts a steadying hand on your arm.

"Easy there," Echo warns. His fingers linger on your forearm, and you can't help the thrill that rushes through you. You meet his gaze, and the corners of his mouth twitch.

"Thanks,” you say, and offer him a small smile.

Echo doesn't say anything. He just smiles back and pulls away, lifting his drink to his lips.

The conversation moves on, but you're barely paying attention to anything other than the feeling of Echo's leg against yours, the heat of his body, the lingering feeling of his hand on your arm. The touch was casual, friendly, but there's a part of you that wants to reach out and take his hand. It's been a while since you've gone dancing, and it's been longer since you've had any kind of physical intimacy, and a small, desperate part of you wants that contact. Especially if it’s Echo.

You steal a glance at him and find him looking back at you. His gaze is focused, a bit calculating, like he's trying to puzzle you out, and there’s a faint flush high on his cheeks. You raise an eyebrow at him, and his lips curl into a small smile. The two of you share a long look, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing as you are.

"I'm gonna head back out," Wrecker says, and the words snap you out of your trance. He's standing next to the booth now, his drink empty, his hands splayed out on the table. "You guys should come out there with me. Stitches, c’mon!”

"I told you, I need a break," you say, a teasing smile playing at your lips. "Why don't you take Hunter? He was just saying how much he wanted to dance.”

"No," Hunter says immediately, shooting you a warning look. "Absolutely not."

"Yes!" Wrecker exclaims. 

The small smirk on Crosshair’s face spreads into a full on grin as he stands from the booth, pulling a grumbling Hunter up with him. He pushes him into Wrecker’s awaiting arms, and Wrecker gives a loud cheer. “Let’s go, Sarge!”

"You're a traitor," Hunter hisses, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder as Wrecker drags him away. You give him a cheeky little wave, and he narrows his eyes.

"Have fun!" you call after him. You can hear Hunter let out a loud groan over the sound of the music, and you laugh as the pair disappears into the crowd.

Crosshair snickers and slips back into the booth, stretching out across the seat and resting his arm across the back. "Well, this’ll be entertaining."

"He'll be fine," Tech says, taking a sip of his drink before returning to his datapad. The four of you laugh a moment, and then fall into a companionable silence.

With the other two distracted, you slide closer to Echo, letting your leg press against his. You don't know if he does it on purpose or not, but he shifts and his leg presses harder against yours, a solid weight against you.

You let your eyes wander to the dance floor, where Hunter and Wrecker are dancing amongst the crowd. Hunter seems to have loosened up a tad, and his movements are more fluid, less rigid. But when he turns to look over at you, you can see the murder in his eyes. You can't help but laugh and give him another wave.

"You're cruel," Echo says, leaning in so his voice will carry over the noise, his breath warm on your cheek.

"No, I’m a genius," you reply easily.  "And an opportunist."

You turn your head back towards him, and the two of you are close—much closer than you expected. His face is only inches from yours, and he's so close that you can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the tiny scar on his forehead.

He's looking at you the way he did earlier, and a wave of warmth runs through your body, pooling low in your belly.

"A dangerous combination,” he says. He looks down, and his lips curl into a smile.

You laugh, and his eyes dart up to meet yours. "Is that a good thing?"

Echo pauses, considering. "I guess we'll find out."

There's a tension building between the two of you, and for a moment, neither of you speak. He's studying you with that intense, focused gaze again, and your body is thrumming. You've felt this feeling before, whenever Echo looks at you like that.

He's attractive—that was an undeniable fact. And he's funny, and smart, and caring, and he's a really, really good friend. But it's the moments like this, the times when his focus is all on you, that make you wish for something more.

You don't know what exactly that something more is, but right now, you can't help but imagine his lips pressed against yours, the feeling of his fingers running through your hair, the heat of his body pressed up against yours. It's been so long since you've had any sort of contact like that, and right now, it's all you can think about.

"So," Echo says, finally breaking the silence. His voice is a low rumble. "Stamina, huh?"

You hum, nodding. "It's a requirement."

"And what other requirements are there?"

"Depends," you say with a little shrug. You find yourself leaning in a fraction, drawn to him, and he mimics the motion. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, but the sight of him moving towards you sends a hot pulse of anticipation through you.

"On?" he asks. There's a teasing lilt in his voice, a gentle playfulness, and you can't help but smile. His eyes drop to your mouth and then flick back up to meet yours.

"Who's asking."

You watch a range of emotions flicker across his face, and then Echo leans back, the tension in the air dissipating. He takes a sip of his drink and gives you a smile. "Good to know."

He turns back to the group, and you feel the loss of his gaze like a physical thing. The conversation shifts, and Echo starts talking to Tech, and the two of them get caught up in whatever it is they're discussing.

You can't focus on the conversation. Your eyes are fixed on Echo's face, watching him. It's like something has shifted between the two of you, and you're not entirely sure what that means. It's hard to read him sometimes—he's not exactly forthcoming with his emotions, but you had thought there was a mutual attraction, an understanding.

But then, you can be wrong about these things. it wouldn’t be the first time, and now that the moment has passed, it feels like it never even happened. You move to a sip of your own drink to try to calm your racing heart before you realize it’s empty.

"I'm gonna grab a refill," you say, sliding out of the booth and turning back toward the table. You ignore Crosshair’s smirk, and ask, "Anybody want anything?"

Crosshair and Tech both shake their heads, and Echo looks up at you and smiles.

"I'll come with," he says and slides out of the booth to follow you.

You can feel the weight of Crosshair's eyes on the back of your neck as the two of you walk off. You have a feeling that the conversation will pick back up the moment you're out of earshot, and you have a strong suspicion that you know exactly what it's going to be about.

When the two of you get to the bar, Echo flags down the bartender. The two of you place your orders and wait for the droid to prepare them, and you lean against the bar, your shoulder pressed against Echo's. He glances over at you, and you give him a smile.

"You doing okay?" you ask, tilting your head towards him.

"Yeah, why?"

"I just wanted to check in," you say. You shift a bit, leaning in closer. "We've all been under a lot of stress lately. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Echo considers your words, his brow furrowed in concentration as he looks back at you. Eventually, he seems to come to a decision, and his expression clears.

"I am," he says. "And I appreciate you checking in, but I'm fine. Really."

You nod. That's been Echo's refrain ever since he joined the Bad Batch. The squad has helped him adjust, and the new prosthetics have helped too, but you can tell it's still not easy for him. You've tried your best to support him, and the others have done the same, but there's only so much any of you can do.

"I'm glad," you say. You pause, and then, after a moment's consideration, add, "If you ever need to talk, or anything, you know where to find me."

Echo smiles and nods. “I know.”

The droid sets down your drinks, and you each grab one. For a moment, you debate whether to take them back to the table, but you can hear the sounds of shouting and laughter, and a quick glance at the crowd reveals Hunter and Wrecker stumbling back to the booth.

"Wanna stay here?" you ask, lifting your glass.

Echo looks over at the group, and then back to you. He's got that smile on his face again, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," he says, and he hops onto one of the stools. You follow suit, sitting on the one next to him.

You sit in companionable silence for a while. You can hear the sounds of the music, of the dancers and the laughter, but the sounds seem distant, and for a moment, you and Echo are alone.

"I'm happy to see you having fun," he says, breaking the silence.

"Why's that?"

"We've been through a lot the past few months,” he answers. His voice is quiet, but the look in his eyes is steady and focused. "You deserve to have a good time."

"So do you, Echo.”

He doesn't reply, but there's a thoughtful expression on his face as he looks back out at the dance floor. His eyes are distant, and you follow his gaze with a curious tilt of your head.

"You want to get out there and dance, don't you?" you guess, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

Echo gives you a sidelong glance, and his mouth twitches in a little smile. "I told you, it's not really my scene. Not anymore, at least."

"So we'll find another way for you to have fun,” you reply as you turn on the stool to face him. You take a sip of your drink and give him a pointed look. It’s a bit forward, even for you, but the alcohol has you feeling bold, and you get the sense that Echo isn’t as put off by your flirting as he pretends to be.

The two of you lock eyes, and the moment stretches on. His eyes flit over your face, searching, and you meet his gaze, refusing to blink.

Echo rolls his eyes before ducking his head, shaking it slightly. You can see a faint blush on his cheeks, and he lets out a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, okay,” he says sarcastically, and you frown.

"You think I'm not serious?"

"No," he replies, raising his eyebrows at you. "I know you're not."

You tilt your head, studying him. He looks a mixture of amused and annoyed, but beneath that, there's something else. There's a softness to his expression, an almost pleading edge to his voice. It's a strange combination, and you're not sure how to interpret it.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because it’s you," he says, as if that explains everything.

"So?"

"So, you're..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely in your direction. You raise your eyebrows at him, and he lets out a small huff. "Look, we both know you're not really interested."

You feel a surge of annoyance. "Well, maybe I am. Why don't you give me a chance to prove it?"

Echo stares at you, his mouth set in a thin line, and for a moment, the two of you are locked in a silent stand-off. Finally, he breaks the stalemate, letting out a quiet sigh.

"What?" you ask

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "You're drunk."

"I am not," you protest. Your eyebrows furrow in indignation. "I've had three drinks, max. And they were light. I'm just feeling good."

"Okay, then," he says, a skeptical look on his face. "Maybe you're not drunk. But you're not exactly thinking straight, either."

You scoff. "Is anyone ever thinking straight in a place like this?"

"Very funny."

"I'm just saying, I'm serious," you insist. "I'm more than happy to have fun with you, if that's what you want."

Echo opens his mouth, and then shuts it, his lips pressed in a thin line. You've never seen him so unbalanced, and the sight fills you with a perverse sense of satisfaction.

"You're not thinking this through," he says. "You have no idea what you're offering."

"So explain it to me," you say. You set your drink down and slide closer to him, your knees brushing against the side of his leg. His eyes dart to the movement, and then back up to meet yours. There's a spark of heat in his gaze, and you can't help but smile.

"You're really—" He breaks off, his gaze dropping to your mouth, and his tongue darts out, swiping over his lips. His gaze lingers for a long moment, and you can feel the tension in the air thicken, like static electricity building just before a lightning strike.

"I'm really what?"

He lets out a frustrated sound. "You’re not making this easy.”

"Oh, please," you say, rolling your eyes. "If it was easy, it wouldn't be any fun."

"You're something else," he says, and there's an edge of frustration to his voice. He runs a hand over his face, and then looks back at you. “I’m not talking about this here.”

"Fine," you say, a little miffed. "Then come back to the ship with me, and we'll finish this conversation."

Echo lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. He looks torn, and you can't quite figure out what's going on in his head.

"Echo, if you're not into it, that's fine," you tell him, your voice softer. "I'm not trying to pressure you. I just wanted you to know that I'm interested."

He nods slowly, his eyes still trained on yours. There's a wariness there, and for a moment, you’re certain he's going to reject you.

Instead, he slides off the stool and takes a step forward. You turn, your legs parting of their own accord, and he moves between them. He's so close that your knees are brushing his hips, and the contact sends a spark of anticipation through you.

"Let me make this clear," he says, leaning in, and his voice is a low, raspy whisper in your ear. "You don't know what you're getting into."

"Try me."

"You really wanna go down this road?"

"Absolutely.”

There's no hesitation. You've wanted this, wanted him, for longer than you're willing to admit, and now that it's within reach, there's no way in hell you're backing down.

Echo pulls back, but he doesn’t go far. His eyes are dark, the light gold overtaken by his pupils, and a hot wave of arousal shoots through you.

"Please," you add for good measure, the word a breathless whisper.

That seems to be the last straw. Echo lets out a heavy breath, and his hand comes up, cupping the back of your head. His fingers are digging into the strands of your hair, and you can't help but tip your head back a little, letting him feel the weight of your skull in his hand. His thumb traces a soft, slow line over the nape of your neck, and you shiver at the sensation.

"This is a bad idea," he says. His words are barely a murmur, and they send a warm thrill running through you.

"Yeah," you agree. You reach up and curl a hand around the back of his neck, stroking the sensitive skin with your thumb, and his eyes flutter closed. “Come back to the ship with me.”

“Kriff,” he mutters, his voice rough. He looks back at you, his eyes searching your face, and he lets out a frustrated huff.

Echo steps back, releasing his hold on your head, and you hold your breath as you watch him. You wait for him to leave, to walk away from you, but he just reaches for his drink and finishes it, his eyes never leaving yours. When he's done, he sets the empty glass on the counter and holds his hand out.

"Let's go."

You can't help the way your face lights up at the words. You finish the last of your drink and take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. You weave through the crowd, the two of you practically joined at the hip, his hand still grasping yours tightly.

"Do you want to let the others know we're leaving?"

"Nah," Echo says. He doesn't turn to look at you, his eyes fixed ahead as he pulls you along. "They're too busy having a good time."

"But—"

"Stitches.”

He glances over his shoulder, giving you a sharp look. The intensity in his gaze, the hunger, is enough to send a rush of heat through your body, and you swallow.

"Oh," you say, the word almost a gasp. 

Echo gives you a little smile, and his hand slips away from yours. For a moment, the loss is nearly overwhelming, and then his fingers skim over your lower back. They trace a slow line down to your hip, and his hand settles there, guiding you through the crowd. The touch is light, gentle, but it's the possessiveness of it that sends a shiver up your spine.

When the two of you step through the doors and into the night air, he lets his hand slip lower, until it's resting just above the swell of your ass. You're not sure if the motion is intentional or not, but it sets a fire alight in you, and you have to resist the urge to press back against his palm or try to coax him to move lower.

You slow down. "So, uh, are we gonna—"

"Walk and talk," Echo says, cutting you off with a gentle push forward. His voice is low, and there's an authoritative edge to it that makes your knees feel weak. "The others will notice that we're gone eventually. We don't have a lot of time."

"Okay," you say, nodding. The two of you walk quickly through the city, and you're grateful for the fresh air. It clears your head a fraction, enough that the buzz of the alcohol has started to fade, and you're left with a sharp clarity.

The silence between the two of you is tense, but it's not uncomfortable. It feels charged, full of energy, and you're keenly aware of his hand on your lower back. His fingers are splayed out, his hand spanning the width of your waist, and his thumb is tracing a slow line over the fabric of your shirt.

It's driving you crazy, and you can't help the way you arch your back, pushing into the pressure. You feel his grip tighten, and you bite your lip, fighting back a moan.

Echo lets out a small chuckle. "Someone's eager."

"I thought we’ve established that already,” you reply. You let a bit of a whine slip into your voice, and when he looks over, his eyes are wide.

"Are you always like this?" he asks.

"Like what?"

"This..." he trails off, gesturing with his scomp, and his face flushes a light pink. "Teasing."

"Only when I want someone."

Echo doesn't say anything in response. He just nods and keeps walking, but you don't miss the way his grip tightens a little, or the way he starts moving faster.

The moment the two of you are through the hatch of the Marauder, Echo slams his palm on the control panel, shutting the door behind him. The ship goes dark as you stand a few feet apart, staring at each other. 

Echo leans against the wall, settling back with a considering look on his face, and he crosses his arms. He’s lit by the light coming through the window, and the pale glow makes him look otherworldly.

"Well?" you prompt, raising an eyebrow.

"Come here."

His voice is quiet, and you can barely hear him over the pounding of your heart. But the tone leaves no room for argument, and you can't help but comply. You step forward, moving slowly, and Echo's eyes track your movements. 

You stop when your shoes are a few inches from his, and you tilt your head, looking up at him. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it's taking every ounce of self-control not to touch him.

"What do you want from me?" he asks.

"I—"

"No," he says. His hand and scomp come up, settling on your hips, and the motion pushes the two of you together. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your face, and the warmth of his body is burning through the layers of your clothing. "Don't think about it. Tell me."

Your eyes dart down to his lips, and he doesn't miss the movement. His lips quirk upward, and his thumb rubs gentle, slow circles on the fabric of your shirt.

"I want—" you break off, hesitating, and Echo gives your hip a squeeze. The pressure is light, but it's enough to get you to focus.

"I want this. I want you," you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. You take a breath and meet his eyes. "But I want you to know that I'm not just doing this because it's convenient, or because I'm bored. I'm doing this because I like you, Echo. I have for a long time."

Echo doesn't speak, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle hum of the ship around you. His eyes search your face, as though trying to determine if you're being truthful, and you watch as the hard edge of his expression softens, replaced by something softer, something hopeful.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah," you reply. You feel a wave of relief at his words, and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face.

"How long?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You take a step closer, until there's no more space between the two of you. He doesn't move, but you can see the way his breath catches, and you can feel the way his hand tightens on your hip.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you weren't ready," you say. You take a deep breath, and the motion makes his eyes drop to your mouth again. "I wanted to wait until you were ready. So I just want you to know, this isn’t—I mean, it's not just a fling, or anything. I want this to mean something."

"Good," he says quietly. "Me too."

You can't help the sigh of relief that escapes your lips. "Thank fuck."

Echo's lips twitch, and he ducks his head. The tips of his ears are a bit pink, and his shoulders are shaking a little.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he says, looking back up. There's a soft smile on his face, and it makes your stomach flutter. "I just—you're really cute, you know that?"

"Am I?"

"Yeah," he replies, and his fingers start tracing patterns on your hip. The feeling is a light, tickling sensation, and you can't help the way your body shifts a bit, moving closer.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask.

"Depends," he says, and the way he parrots your words makes you laugh. He smiles and adds, "And I’m a little relieved. I don't do flings."

"Then why'd you agree to come back here with me?"

"Because I trust you," he says. "And because I want you. More than I've wanted anyone in a long time. Maybe ever."

"Yeah?"

Echo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. You're both close, and you can feel the tension building between the two of you. He's not holding back anymore, and his expression is open, his emotions plain on his face. The butterflies in your stomach kick up, fluttering wildly. Echo reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He tucks it behind your ear, and the contact is gentle, tender. His fingers brush against the sensitive shell, and the feeling is so delicate, so soft, that it sends a shiver through you.

"Yeah."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. "Okay, then."

"Okay."

He's smiling now too, and the sight is almost too much. You've seen him smile plenty of times before, but this one is different, and it takes your breath away. His fingers skim over the curve of your jaw, and when they reach your chin, he tilts it up, angling your face towards his. Your lips part, and you suck in a quick breath.

"So," he says, his voice quiet. His eyes drop to your mouth, and he pauses for a moment, just staring. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips, and when his gaze flicks back up to meet yours, his pupils are blown. "What do you want me to do?"

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You're not quite sure how to answer the question. It's a little hard to form words when his thumb is brushing over the soft, sensitive skin of your chin.

"Don't get shy on me now," Echo murmurs. "Come on, tell me."

"I want—" You break off, swallowing. Your throat feels dry, and you try again. "I want you to kiss me."

His mouth curls up into a smirk. "You can do better than that."

"Kriff, Echo, just—"

His grip on your chin tightens a fraction, and you force yourself to swallow and try again, more confidence in your voice. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to take what you want. I want you to make me feel good. Is that enough for you?"

Echo's smirk melts away, and his lips part, his breath coming out in a quick huff. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, and his pupils are dilated, his irises just a thin ring of gold around the edges.

"Fuck," he mutters, and his eyes flicker back up to meet yours. There's an intensity to his gaze that sends a shiver through you, and the feeling is only heightened when his thumb traces the edge of your bottom lip, his touch light.

"So what do you think?" you ask, unable to keep a hint of amusement from creeping into your voice.

Echo shakes his head, his brow furrowed, and you can't help the way your lips curve into a grin. His gaze darts back down to your mouth, and his own lips twitch. When he speaks, his voice is low and husky.

"I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"That you'd be like this," he says. There's a teasing note in his voice, but the look on his face is serious, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you.

"You've been thinking about it?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, I have," he mutters, and then he's moving. He grips your waist, lifting you, his scomp arm sliding underneath your ass, and he turns, pressing you against the wall. The sudden motion and the cool metal at your back sends a rush of adrenaline through you, tearing a sound from your lips.

"I've been thinking about it too," you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist. You're clinging to him, and you can't stop the way you're moving your hips, rubbing against him.

"You have, huh?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "You have no idea."

He makes a sound, a cross between a laugh and a groan. He closes his eyes, and his head falls forward, his forehead pressing against yours.

"I've been driving myself crazy," he mutters, his voice thick with desire. "Just wondering."

"Is that why you've been staring at me?"

He huffs a quiet laugh, and he lifts his head, a rueful smile on his face. "You noticed."

"It was hard not to." You grin, leaning back a fraction, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your pants. "Especially when I was trying to catch you."

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and he presses you against the wall, his hips grinding into yours. The pressure is firm and steady, and you can't stifle the moan that slips out.

"You are cruel," he says, and there's a note of wonder in his voice.

"So are you," you shoot back, rocking your hips against him. "All that eye-fucking."

"Eye-fucking," he repeats, letting out a short laugh. "That's what you're calling it?"

"It's accurate."

He lets out another quiet chuckle, his body shaking a fraction, and the motion sends a shiver up your spine.

"I just had to figure it out," he explains. "I had to make sure."

In the dim light, it's hard to see the details of his face, but you can't miss the heat in his eyes, or the flush that colors his cheeks. You can't help the soft laugh that escapes your lips, and you reach up, letting the backs of your fingers trace over his jaw.

"I didn't mind," you say softly. "I've been watching you, too."

Echo hums, a soft, thoughtful sound, his eyes searching your face. "Watching me, huh?"

"Of course," you say. You lean forward, brushing your lips over the sensitive shell of his ear. You can feel him tense against you, and when you drag the tip of your tongue along the delicate flesh, he sucks in a sharp breath. "And I've liked what I've seen."

"Fuck," he breathes, and you can feel him shudder. "Do that again."

You oblige, pressing another kiss to his ear, and this time, you let your teeth scrape over the delicate skin. He lets out a low moan, and his hips roll forward, grinding against yours.

"Kriff, that feels good," he groans, and the sound goes straight to your core. "Keep going."

You nip at the soft skin, and when his hips roll again, you grind down, pushing back. The friction is delicious, and the motion makes him gasp, his eyes fluttering shut. Your mouth trails along his jaw, and his skin is soft under your lips. You kiss a slow path along the edge, and when you reach his chin, you nip the skin, making him jerk his hips again.

"Fuck, you're—" he breaks off with a groan, his head falling back as you trail a series of kisses down his neck.

"I'm what?" your murmur, tracing a line of kisses underneath his jaw.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he manages. His head falls forward, and his mouth crashes into yours.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's messy, a little desperate, and when his tongue licks into your mouth, you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips. He tastes like spice and smoke, and he's kissing you with an intensity that makes your head spin.

You let go of his neck, and your hands move to his chest, tracing over the hard planes. His lips move frantically against yours, his scomp underneath your ass encouraging the motion of your hips, and his hand roams over your body everywhere he can reach. He grabs your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip, running up your ribs and skimming over your stomach before drifting back down. He cups your ass, grabbing a fistful of the flesh and tugging you closer, until there's not an inch of space between the two of you.

You can't help but moan, and the sound seems to spur him on. He lets out a low groan and pulls away, leaving a trail of biting kisses along the line of your jaw, down your throat. His mouth is hot and wet against your skin, and he nips the sensitive flesh, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Echo," you gasp. "Bed, please. Now."

He nods before his mouth finds yours again. The kiss is sloppy and deep, his tongue sliding against yours, and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips as he pulls away. Echo steps back and sets you on your feet, steadying you with his scomp when your knees wobble.

"Come on," he murmurs. He takes a step forward, backing you toward the bunks, and his gaze doesn't leave yours as he navigates the small space.

His bunk is only a few steps away, and when you reach it, Echo stills. He turns you, guiding you until you're facing the bed, your back to him. You can feel the warmth of his body behind you, the press of his armor against your back.

"Take off your shirt," he says, his voice low in your ear. His scomp is a firm weight on your hip, keeping you still, and his other hand drifts over your side, ghosting over your ribs.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head, letting it fall to the ground. Echo deftly unhooks your bra, sliding the straps down your arms, and you toss it on top of your shirt. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to the back of your neck, and his hand slides up your waist.  You're not sure when he took the glove off his hand, but his fingers are tracing a slow, languid path, his calluses sending little tingles over your skin.

"Take off your pants," he says. The words are quiet, almost reverent, and his fingers brush over the soft swell of your breast.

You follow his command, taking off your boots and socks before you slide the pants down your legs. Your underwear is last, and the thin material is soaked through, the damp fabric clinging to the sensitive flesh.

When you turn back around, he's watching you with a look of open desire. His eyes are dark and heated, and the way they drag over your body, taking in the sight of your naked form, sends a flush spreading over your skin.

"You're overdressed," you say, and there's a teasing edge to your voice.

Echo doesn't answer, just gives you a heated look before turning his attention to his armor. He removes it piece by piece, until the only thing left is his blacks. The fabric clings to his body, outlining the hard planes of muscle and the sharp angles of his shoulders. You can't help but watch him, taking in the sight of him, and the longer you stare, the more he seems to relax.

"Enjoying the show?" he asks, his mouth quirking in a smile.

"Yes," you say honestly. "Very much."

"Good," he says, and he lifts his scomp, making a twirling motion. "Turn around."

You obey, turning back around, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him smile.

"Now bend over," he says, and the words send a bolt of heat straight to your core. "Hands on the bunk."

"Echo—"

"Trust me," he murmurs, and the words send a shiver down your spine. "It'll be worth it."

You nod, and slowly bend at the waist. You brace yourself, leaning forward and resting your weight on your forearms. The position leaves you vulnerable, and you can't help the way a hot, tingling blush creeps over your skin.

"Good," Echo murmurs. His hand slides over your hip, and he gives it a light squeeze before trailing his fingers over the curve of your ass.

"Are you—"

"Don't move," he says, and the words send a jolt of heat straight through you. He's standing so close, his body nearly pressed against yours, and the warmth of his body is seeping into you, heating your skin. "Just let me take care of you."

He steps back, and you can't help but squirm, trying to follow him. "But—"

"What did I just say?" he asks, and the tone of his voice makes your core clench.

"Echo," you whine, and your voice is a bit higher than usual. You can't help the way the heat creeps into your face, or the way your stomach flutters.

"What did I say?" he repeats. He reaches up and brushes his fingers over the curve of your ass, his touch feather-light.

"Don't move."

"Good girl," he says. You hear him drop to his knees behind you, and his hand slides over the curve of your ass. He grabs a handful of the flesh, squeezing it, and the pressure is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Stay still," he says, his voice low and firm. "You know the rules."

"Yeah," you breathe, a bit breathless. "I'll be good."

Echo doesn't say anything, but his thumb rubs a slow, soothing circle over the soft skin. His hand slips from your ass and comes up to the junction of your thighs. He traces the crease where your leg meets your ass, and his fingers brush over the sensitive skin.

"Open your legs," he murmurs, his breath hot on the skin of your inner thigh. "Wider."

You obey, widening your stance, and when you do, he lets out a low hum of approval.

"Just like that," he says. His scomp rests on your hip, steading you as his fingers dip between your thighs. They drag over the sensitive folds, spreading the slick arousal coating your core. The touch is light, teasing, and it's barely enough to satisfy the ache building inside you.

"Kriff, Echo," you groan, and your voice is a bit shaky. "Please, don't—"

"Don't what?" he asks. His hand stills, and he doesn't move, his fingers barely touching the heated flesh.

"Don't tease me," you beg, and the words come out a bit strangled.

"You like it, though," he says. He leans forward, his tongue darting out and dragging a slow, wet line up your core. The feeling makes your hips jerk, and the muscles of your abdomen clench. "Don't you?"

"Yes," you gasp, and the word comes out a bit ragged. You can feel your walls clenching around nothing, desperate for any kind of friction, and the tension is nearly unbearable.

"Then let me," he says, and his voice is a low, raspy murmur. "Let me make this good for you."

He ducks his head again, and his tongue is hot and slick as it drags through your folds, the tip just barely dipping inside your entrance. He repeats the motion, his tongue teasing the sensitive flesh, and the feeling makes your hips buck. His scomp is firm on your hip, preventing you from moving too far, and you can't quite decide if the lack of control is maddening or exhilarating.

"Echo," you whine, and the sound is a plaintive, pleading noise.

He doesn't answer. His thumb and scomp move, his thumb spreading the swollen lips of your pussy, and his scomp helps holds them apart, giving him better access. The motion leaves you exposed, the cool air of the ship caressing the heated flesh, and the feeling makes a shiver run down your spine.

"Look at you," he murmurs. He lets out a low, satisfied sound, and you can't help the way you push into his touch. "So eager."

He dips his head and his tongue slides over your core, tracing a slow, torturous line to your clit. When he reaches it, he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the throbbing bud. The feeling is almost too much, and your hips buck, trying to get away from the sensation.

"No, no, no," he says. "None of that."

His hand grips your hip, holding you still as he teases the bundle of nerves with his tongue. He traces circles around it, and when he sucks it into his mouth, the feeling makes your legs tremble.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, and your hands curl into fists, clutching at the blankets.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes," you gasp. "Feels good."

He hums, the vibration making your legs shake. "How about this?"

You suck in a breath as he presses his tongue flat against your clit, his lips wrapped around the throbbing bundle. His tongue strokes the sensitive flesh, and when he slides a finger inside you, your vision blurs.

"Oh, fuck, yes," you groan. "Yes, yes, please, just like that."

"Good," he says. His voice is a low rasp, and it makes heat pool in your belly. "You're doing so good for me."

Your walls clench around his finger, drawing him deeper, and he starts a slow, torturous pace, working his finger in and out of your dripping cunt.

"Please," you pant. "More. I need more."

"Like this?" he asks. He slides a second finger along with the first, stretching the delicate tissue. The burn is delicious, and it feels so good, the way his fingers fill you up. His mouth is hot and slick against you, and his tongue is dragging over the hard bud of your clit. His fingers thrust slowly, the motion gentle, and his scomp is holding you still, keeping you from pushing back against him. 

The way he's forcing you to stay still, to let him do as he pleases, is sending a hot, tingling flush spreading over your skin. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your breath is coming in short, shallow pants, your entire body wound tight.

"Do you like that?" Echo murmurs, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Yes," you manage. You can feel the heat rising inside you, the tension building in your belly, and your toes are starting to curl. "So much."

"Good girl," he says, and the words send a wave of warmth rushing through you. "You're being so good for me."

"Thank you," you pant. "Feels so good."

He hums in response as his scomp leaves your hip, and you feel the cold, metal appendage drag down the curve of your ass. It slides lower, until the tip of the metal is just barely pressing against the folds of your entrance. The feeling is foreign and strange, and the sensation makes you jerk.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Y-yes," you say. The sensation is unfamiliar, and the feeling of the cool metal against your core is making your muscles twitch. "Keep going."

He slides lower through your wet folds, and the motion is slow and deliberate. It's not like his fingers or his tongue, not quite the same. It's harder, cooler, less yielding, but the contrast is delicious, and it's making your legs tremble.

"That feels..."

"Weird?" he asks, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"Not bad," you manage, and the words come out a bit strangled. "Different. Good."

"You want more?"

"Yes," you groan. Your hands tighten in the blankets, and the heat is starting to creep up your spine. "Yes, please."

He doesn't reply, just slides his scomp back up through the folds again, this time a little harder. The metal is smooth, and the tip is cool against your clit. He drags it over the hard bud, and the feeling makes a jolt of electricity shoot through you.

"Echo," you gasp.

"Shh," he says. His mouth is hot against your thigh, and his lips press a wet, sucking kiss to the sensitive flesh. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

You nod, and your eyes slip shut. Your hands clench in the sheets, and the feeling of his mouth, of his fingers, of his scomp, is enough to drive all thoughts from your mind. Your head falls forward, resting against the bunk, and you can't help the soft, desperate sounds that fall from your lips.

Echo keeps up a steady rhythm, his fingers thrusting as his scomp presses patterns over the throbbing bundle of nerves. You can feel the pressure inside you growing, building, and the tension is so intense that it makes your legs shake.

"Please," you beg. "I need—"

"Shh," he soothes. "I know what you need. I'll take care of you."

You whimper, your body shaking, and the tension inside you is nearly unbearable. He keeps up a slow, steady pace, and you can feel your orgasm coiling, tightening inside you.

"I need—"

"Let go," he murmurs. He curls his fingers, pressing the tips against the bundle of nerves hidden inside you, and the feeling is enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

Your body goes rigid, your back arching, and your eyes slam shut as your orgasm crashes through you. The sensation is intense, almost painful, and the tension in your muscles is so strong that it's hard to breathe.

Echo doesn't stop, doesn't even slow. He keeps up the slow, steady pace, and it feels like hours pass before the aftershocks subside, leaving you limp and sated. Your head is spinning, and your lungs are burning as you try to catch your breath. Your release is slick and sticky on your thighs, and Echo's tongue slides over your skin, lapping it up.

"You're perfect," he murmurs. He trails a series of kisses over the swell of your ass, the tip of his nose tracing the line of your spine. "So beautiful."

Finally, Echo pulls away. He removes his fingers, and the sudden emptiness makes you gasp. You collapse forward, unable to hold yourself up any longer, and the sheets are cool and soft against your face. You're dimly aware of Echo shifting, his arm slipping under you, lifting you off the bed. He sits on the edge, holding you against him, chest to chest, and your legs fall to either side of his thighs.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice a low, husky whisper.

"I think so," you mumble. Your head is still spinning, and your limbs feel heavy, a pleasant lassitude spreading through your body. "Just need a minute."

Echo doesn't answer, just nods. He reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face. His fingertips trail over the shell of your ear, and the contact sends a shiver down your spine.

"You were so good," he murmurs. "Such a good girl."

The praise makes a hot flush spread over your cheeks, and you turn your face, hiding it in the crook of his neck.

"Don't," you mumble, the word muffled by his blacks.

"Don't what?" he asks. There's a note of amusement in his voice, and you know without looking that he's smiling.

"Don't tease me."

"But you liked it," he says. His arm tightens around your waist, and his other hand slides into your hair, gently cradling the back of your head. "And I meant every word."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, and his hand moves, cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes over the soft skin, and he tilts your head up, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, a gentle brush of lips, and it's almost enough to make your heart stop. Your hands move, reaching up and fisting in his blacks, and you pull him closer. You can taste yourself on his lips, the tangy-sweet flavor a sharp contrast to the lingering sweetness of the liquor.

When you pull away, the look on his face makes your heart skip a beat.

"You're staring," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He runs a thumb over the swell of your bottom lip, and the touch is soft, reverent. "You're beautiful."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Good to know," he says, grinning.

You smile and reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. His skin is warm and soft under your fingers, and the stubble is a rough contrast to the smoothness of his cheek.

"I could stare at you forever," he says.

"I'm sure there's something else you'd rather be doing," you say, grinning.

"Maybe," he says. His eyes flick over your face, searching. "What about you? What would you rather be doing?"

"You," you say, and his lips twitch in a smile.

"Now who's the flatterer?"

"It's not flattery," you say, and his eyes are bright, the gold flecks in them glowing in the dim lighting. "I want you, Echo. More than I've wanted anyone in a long time."

"So what are we waiting for?" he asks.

"What, you don't want me to return the favor?" you tease, running a hand over his shoulder.

"I'd love that," he says, and his voice is a low rasp, his breath hot against your skin. "But later. Right now, I just want you."

"Well," you say, trailing your hand down his chest. "I'm not stopping you."

Echo smiles and leans down, his mouth finding yours. The kiss is soft, almost tentative, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through you. His lips are gentle against yours, and when his tongue traces the seam, you part for him.

The kiss deepens, and his tongue slides against yours, the slick, velvety muscle stroking yours. You can't help the soft, breathy sound that escapes your lips, and when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, your hands tighten in his blacks.

He lets out a soft grunt, his arm tightening around your waist, and he shifts, the movement rocking his hips forward. The friction makes a soft gasp escape your lips, and you can't help the way you press closer.

"Come on," you murmur, kissing a path along his jaw. You nip the skin, and his hips roll again, pushing up.

"Fuck, wait," he breathes. "Let me—"

You bite down, and his head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. You lean forward, nipping the skin, and the sound he makes is like a prayer.

"Come on," you say again, your teeth dragging over the skin.

"Kriff, wait," he groans, and his scomp is cool against the small of your back. "Just a second."

You pause, pulling away and looking at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, his breathing a bit ragged. "I just—it's been a while, okay?"

"A while?"

"Yeah," he says, and he's blushing, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "A long while."

"So?"

"So," he says. He glances down at his lap, then back at you. "It's gonna be over embarrassingly fast if you keep doing that."

"Doing what?" you ask, unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. "This?"

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just below his ear, and the action makes him suck in a breath. His hand comes up, sliding into your hair, and he guides you to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, his fingers tightening. You can't help the satisfied smile that crosses your face, and when you nip the tender skin, his hips buck, grinding against you.

"Come on," you whisper. You let your tongue slide over the skin, and his hand flexes in your hair. "You don't have to worry about me."

"That's not the point," he mutters, and his hand slides from your hair to grip your hip. "I want you to have fun."

"And I am," you murmur. You drag the tip of your tongue along the line of his throat, and the motion makes him groan. "Trust me, I'm having plenty of fun."

"You're not worried about—about..."

"About what?" you ask. "About finishing early? About getting off and leaving me hanging?"

"Yeah," he admits, his voice low. "Something like that."

"Why would I be? You already made me come," you say with a smile. "That was fun, remember?"

"Yeah," he says. His scomp slides over the curve of your ass, pulling you closer.

"Then why don't you let me have some more fun?" you murmur. You rock your hips forward, and the motion makes him groan. "Come on. Let me take care of you."

"Are you—"

"If I say it's fine, it's fine," you say. You press a line of kisses down his neck, pausing to nip the soft skin. "Stop worrying and just enjoy yourself."

"That's—"

"Easy for you to say," you finish, and he huffs out a breath.

"Come on," you murmur, nipping the skin. "Let go."

He doesn't say anything, just tugs your hips forward, grinding you against him. You can't help the soft gasp that slips past your lips, and the feel of him, even through the fabric, is delicious.

"Just like that," you whisper, your lips brushing over his jaw.

Echo rolls his hips again, and the friction is delicious. The pressure is almost too much, but his grip on you is tight, preventing you from pulling away. His mouth finds yours, his tongue sliding past your lips, and he licks into your mouth with a slow, wet slide. The kiss is messy and frantic, his tongue tracing the edges of your lips, the tip flicking over the roof of your mouth.

You moan at the feeling of his mouth on yours, the way he's taking what he wants, and the sound seems to spur him on. He surges forward, your back hitting the bed, and his body follows, covering yours. He braces himself, his weight on his elbows, his mouth never leaving yours. His tongue delves deeper, and the kiss is hard and messy, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

"You feel so good," he groans, his lips brushing over the soft skin. "Can I—"

"Yes," you interrupt, and he lets out a soft laugh.

"At least let me ask," he says. "It's polite."

"You’ve been very polite," you say. Your fingers trace over his ribs, and his abs clench beneath the soft touch. "But please, don't hold back anymore."

Echo pulls away, and the look on his face is enough to send a hot, tingling blush spreading over your cheeks. He's watching you with a mix of awe and desire, as his hand reaches down, fumbling with the clasp of his blacks.

"Do you need some help?" you tease, grinning.

"No," he says. His tone is firm, almost commanding, and the sound makes your stomach flip.

Echo finally manages to unclasp the garment, and his hand falls away, letting the blacks hang loose around his hips. He tugs them down, revealing the hard planes of his stomach, the sharp cut of his hips, and he slides off the bed and stands, kicking them away.

When he turns back to face you, his thumb hooks into the waistband of his briefs, and his eyes meet yours.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Are you seriously asking that question?"

"Just checking," he says. He hesitates, and the expression on his face is almost shy. "I'm not... I mean, I don't look like—"

"Echo, if you don't get your ass back over here and fuck me, I'm going to scream," you say, and he snorts.

"Alright, alright," he says. He tugs the briefs down his legs, and when his cock is free, it bobs, slapping against his abdomen. You try not to stare, but the sight of him is enough to make your core clench.

Your eyes widen, and the words die on your lips.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh."

Echo steps closer, and the movement makes his cock bob again. The shaft is long and thick, the head a deep, dusky red, and the sight makes your mouth go dry. He's leaking, and when he gives himself a quick stroke, a bead of precum dribbles down the head, making the soft skin glisten.

"Fuck, you're pretty," you say, and his cheeks turn a faint shade of pink.

"You're one to talk," he murmurs, his gaze flicking over you. "I could stare at you all night."

You blush and shift, pulling your legs together. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"No," he says, his voice soft. "Just you."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

"I should, uh, get a—"

"I have an implant,” you say, and he nods, swallowing.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you murmur. "If you're good with it, I'm good with it."

"Yeah," he breathes, and his gaze is dark, heated. "Yeah, okay."

He hesitates for a moment before grabbing the neck of his blacks, and with a quick motion, he pulls the shirt off, dropping it onto the pile. You can't help the way your eyes roam over his body, taking in the sight of him.

His muscles are defined and well-defined, his arms and shoulders corded with lean muscle. The planes of his chest and abdomen are sharp, the lines of his muscles standing out in sharp relief under the scars that spread across his skin, and you can't stop yourself from reaching out and tracing a line over his ribs. You’re pleased to see he’s put on weight, the bones not so prominent, and there are some soft edges where there were none before.

He's beautiful, and for a moment, you're struck dumb by the sight of him. 

Echo watches you, and the longer you stare, the more his muscles twitch, his nerves clearly getting the best of him.

"Sorry, you're just—you're really hot," you say. "It's a bit intimidating."

He lets out a soft huff of laughter, and his cheeks flush.

"Yeah, right," he says. He climbs onto the bunk and crawls toward you, his eyes locked on yours. When he reaches you, he settles himself between your legs, his forearms resting on either side of your head.

"If anyone's intimidated, it's me."

"Why's that?"

"Have you seen yourself?" he murmurs. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

The words make your heart stutter, and you reach up, cupping his cheek. "You're just saying that because you want to get laid."

"I'm just saying it because it's true," he says, and the words are a quiet whisper against your lips.

He dips his head, and his mouth finds yours again. You can't help the soft moan that escapes, and the sound makes Echo's hips rock against yours. His cock brushes against your thigh, a warm, velvety weight, and the feel of him sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

Echo breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. His hips move again, and this time, his cock drags against the folds of your core.

"What do you want?" he asks, his nose brushing over the swell of your cheek. "Tell me."

"You," you say, and your hands slide over his shoulders, clutching at his back. "Inside me. Now."

Echo doesn't answer, just shifts, sliding the thick head of his cock through the slick arousal coating your folds. When the tip brushes against the bundle of nerves nestled between the swollen flesh, your hips jerk, and a soft whine slips past your lips.

"Come on," you whisper, and your voice is a breathless, needy whimper. "Just—"

"Shh," he murmurs, his mouth finding yours. "I've got you."

He reaches down, gripping the base of his cock and guiding the head to your entrance. He doesn't move, doesn't thrust, just lets the tip rest there, a heavy weight against your core. The anticipation is almost too much, and you can feel the slick, heated flesh throb, clenching around nothing.

"Gods, Echo," you breathe. "Don't tease."

"You like it," he says, and his hand slides over your thigh, his fingers wrapping around your knee. He pulls it up, spreading you open, and his hips shift, his cock bumping your clit.

"Kriff, come on," you gasp, your back arching. "Don't—"

He doesn't wait for you to finish, just pushes forward. His cock is thick, the stretch almost too much, and the sudden feeling makes a soft, keening cry slip past your lips. He stills, and you can feel him trembling, the muscles in his shoulders quivering.

"Fuck, you're tight," he chokes out. "Just—hold still for a second."

You nod, and Echo lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling forward. His forehead presses against your shoulder, and his eyes slip shut. His hips twitch, and the motion makes his cock sink another inch inside you, the stretch making a soft whine slip past your lips.

"Shit," he breathes. "You're—I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," you gasp.

He nods and shifts his hips, sliding a few inches deeper. His cock is thick and heavy, and the feeling of him stretching you is almost too much. The fullness is almost painful, but there's something delicious about the burn, and you can't help the way you twitch, trying to get closer.

"Fuck," he groans, and the word comes out strangled. "How are you so kriffing tight?"

"Sorry," you gasp. "Been a while."

"You're going to kill me," he murmurs, and his hips push forward again, the movement a slow, steady slide. "Just—fuck, you feel so good."

His words make a bolt of heat shoot through you, and the tension inside you is nearly unbearable. You can't help the way a soft whimper slips past your lips, and the sound makes his hips jerk, his cock sinking deeper.

"Shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your shoulder. His hand tightens on your knee, and the motion spreads you wider, allowing him to sink deeper. "I'll take care of you."

"Come on," you plead. Your hands slide over his back, the skin damp with sweat, and you can feel the muscles tense and relax under your touch. "I can take it."

"I know you can," he says, and his scomp strokes the curve of your hip. "You're being so good for me. Taking me so well."

The praise makes a shiver run down your spine, and his hips thrust again, pushing forward until he's buried to the hilt. The feeling is intense, the stretch a delicious ache, and your legs fall to either side, spreading to accommodate him.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

You can't help the way the words make your core clench, and the feeling makes his breath catch.

"You like that, huh?" he asks, his mouth moving against the hollow of your throat. "Being told what a good girl you are?"

"Echo," you whine.

"Yeah," he breathes. "You do."

He lifts his head and kisses you, his tongue sliding against yours. The kiss is slow, languid, and his hand is gentle as he cups your cheek. His thumb strokes over your skin, the touch almost reverent, and the sweetness is such a stark contrast to the way he's buried deep inside you that it makes your head spin.

"Fuck, Echo," you gasp, the words muffled against his lips.

"So good for me," he says. His hand leaves your face and moves to your leg, pulling your knee up and pressing it toward your chest. Your ankle rests on his shoulder, and the position allows him to push deeper, his hips grinding against yours.

The new angle makes him slide against a spot hidden deep inside you, and the sudden rush of sensation makes your toes curl.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "Right there."

"Here?" he murmurs. He repeats the motion, his hips rolling against yours, and the feeling is so intense that your vision blurs.

"Yeah," you manage through a choked sob.

"That's it," he soothes, and his hand strokes the side of your thigh. "You're doing so good for me."

His hand moves from your leg to the bunk, and his weight presses down on you, his body covering yours. His movements are slow and deliberate, his hips grinding against yours. Each thrust is a steady, rolling grind, and the pressure is so intense that it takes everything in you not to break apart.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and his mouth finds yours. The kiss is messy, a contrast of hard and soft, and when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the sharp pinch is a delicious counterpoint to the sweetness.

His hand leaves the bunk and slides into your hair, fisting the soft strands and holding you still. The grip is firm, but not rough, and the sensation is strangely erotic, sending a rush of heat coursing through you.

"Harder," you gasp, and he obeys, snapping his hips forward hard enough to punch the breath from your lungs. The new pace is harder, faster, and the slap of flesh against flesh is loud in the quiet of the ship.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel so fucking good."

You don't reply, just moan, and his hand tightens in your hair. His teeth graze the line of your jaw, and the sudden bite of pain is so sharp and delicious that it makes your vision blur.

"God, yes," you groan. "Harder."

He lets out a soft grunt and thrusts forward, the force of the movement making the bunk creak. You can't help the strangled cry that slips past your lips, and the noise seems to spur him on, his hips driving against yours with a force that has the bed shaking.

"Echo," you gasp, and the word comes out in a desperate, keening whine. "Please, I need—"

"I know what you need," he whispers, and his hand falls away from your hair to brace himself above you. His scomp leaves your hip and trails between your bodies, the smooth, cool metal sliding over the sensitive bud of your clit. "And I'll give it to you. You just have to trust me."

"I do," you gasp.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, and his mouth moves to your throat. His lips trail a path down the delicate skin, his tongue darting out to taste you. "You trust me?"

"Yes," you manage.

"Good," he says, his breath hot against your skin, and the tip of his scomp presses against the hard bud, circling slowly. "I'm going to make you come. Hard. And when you do, I'm going to fuck you until you're sobbing. Can you take that?"

The words send a thrill of electricity through you, and the tension inside you is so strong that it makes your legs shake.

"Can you?"

"Yes," you manage.

"Good girl," he says, and his teeth nip at the skin below your ear. His scomp moves faster, the motion a steady circle over the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you gasp when you feel it start to vibrate.

"Oh, fuck," you groan. Your back arches, pushing your breasts against his chest. "What—have you always—"

"No," he says, his voice strained. "Never used it for this. Just for you."

"That's—fuck, Echo, please," you beg. Your eyes are squeezed shut, the pleasure so intense that you can't think straight.

"You like that?" he murmurs, and the vibration gets a fraction stronger. The feeling makes a wave of heat wash over you, your muscles clenching and twitching, and your head falls back, resting on the mattress.

"Yes," you gasp.

"You're so close, aren't you?"

"Fuck, Echo," you choke out, and your nails dig into his back, scratching at the skin. He moans at the feeling, his hips driving faster, and the combination of sensations is enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning, and the intensity of it makes your legs spasm, the muscles twitching uncontrollably. You can't control the sounds that are coming from your mouth, desperate gasps and soft, choked sobs, and it's only the feeling of Echo's mouth on yours, kissing the noises away, that keeps you from screaming.

"Oh, fuck," he groans against your mouth. "Just like that. So good for me. Let me hear you."

The words are a whispered prayer against your lips, and the praise makes another wave of heat crash through you. Your core clenches around his cock, and the sensation is so exquisite that it makes tears sting the corners of your eyes. True to his word, he doesn't let up, and his scomp never stops, the vibrations against the sensitive nub sending sparks of electricity shooting through you.

"Please," you sob, and the words are barely audible. "Please, too much."

"One more," he pants. His breathing is ragged, and his thrusts are growing harder, his hips snapping against yours. "Give me one more. Can you do that for me?"

"I don't—I can't—"

"You can," he says. "I know you can. You're being such a good girl for me. Come on. Give me one more."

You nod, unable to speak, and Echo rewards you with a kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hips are moving faster, losing any pretense of control, his pelvis grinding against yours with each forward snap of his hips. His scomp circles your clit, and the feeling is so intense that your limbs go numb, a tingling sensation creeping up your spine. You can feel the pressure inside you building again, coiling, and the tension is so strong that it feels like you're going to fly apart.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, and the words are muffled against his mouth.

"Yeah," he groans. His thrusts are rough, almost desperate, and the movement rocks the bunk. "That's it. You're doing so well. I'm going to make you come all over my cock."

"Please, Echo." Your hands grip his back so hard that you're afraid you're going to leave bruises, and you can feel his muscles tense and release, shifting under the thin layer of sweat-slick skin. "Please."

"I know," he says. His voice is low, husky, and his lips brush over the shell of your ear. "Come on, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come for me."

The words are your undoing. You can't hold back any longer, and with a loud cry, you tumble over the edge, falling headfirst into the blinding, white-hot pleasure that's coursing through you.

This time, your orgasm is too much to contain, and a scream rips from your throat, the sound echoing off the walls. Your back arches, and your legs twitch, a violent tremor wracking your frame as a hot flood of liquid spills from your core. The force of your release is enough to push Echo's cock from your body, and a wet gush follows, coating his stomach and dripping down your thighs.

"Oh, fuck," Echo chokes out. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and his scomp falls away, slamming down beside your head, bracing himself. "Fuck, I'm—"

He doesn't finish the thought, just fumbles for his cock, gripping the base. It only takes a few quick strokes before he's coming, a loud groan escaping his lips. The first pulse hits your stomach, followed by a second, and a third, and the sensation makes a choked moan slip past your lips. He lets out a low groan, his hips twitching, and his cock dribbles the last few drops of his cum, painting a thick line over your skin.

Through your blurry vision, you see Echo's mouth is open, his eyes wide as he stares down at you, and the sight is so sweet, so genuine, that you can't help the breathless huff of laughter that slips past your lips.

"Kriff," he pants. His hand drops to the bunk, and he props himself up on trembling arms. The two of you stay frozen for a moment, chests heaving, your expressions a mirror of each other's shock.

"Fuck," Echo finally chokes out. "Are you okay?"

You nod, unable to form a coherent thought. You let your head fall back against the mattress, and the movement makes a drop of his cum run down your breast, dripping off the underside and falling to the sheets.

"Did I—"

"So good," you manage, and the words are a slurred mumble. He nods, swallowing, and then he turns, collapsing onto the bunk next to you. He lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and when you glance over, he has his forearm draped over his eyes, his chest still heaving.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Oh, fuck."

"What?" you ask. You try to shift, but the feeling of his cum cooling on your stomach and chest is a distracting, sticky sensation, and you're not entirely sure if your limbs are still attached.

"I, uh," he starts. Echo huffs out another small laugh as his arm falls away, and his head lolls to the side, his eyes finding yours. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. I don't even—you're—that was incredible."

"I can't feel my toes," you admit, and the confession makes him laugh.

"Yeah?"

"I'm serious," you say. "Like, are they still there? Is anything still there?"

He rolls onto his side, making a show of looking you over, and when his gaze lands on the mess covering your abdomen, he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes darkening. "They're still there. Everything's still there."

"You look smug," you say.

"Can't imagine why," he says, grinning. He reaches out, tracing a finger through the cooling mess on your skin, and the gentle caress makes a shiver run down your spine. "Fuck, look at you."

"Yeah?"

"You're a mess," he says, and he grins, leaning forward. He kisses you, his lips soft against yours, and when he pulls away, he looks a fraction more composed. "Let me clean you up."

Echo sits up, swinging his legs off the bed, and the movement makes his back muscles ripple, the motion a fluid, graceful flex of sinew and tendon. You can't help the way the sight makes your heart skip a beat, and you have the sudden urge to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his back, to cling to him and never let him go.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at you. "Does anything hurt?"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "Everything feels... really good."

His answering grin is more self-satisfied than you're used to seeing, and the expression is so charming that you can't stop the affectionate roll of your eyes.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," you tease.

"Hey," Echo says, getting to his feet. "I think I earned it."

"I guess so," you murmur, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"Come here," he says, turning. He tugs you upright and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest. The sudden motion makes a laugh bubble up in your throat, and he flashes you a grin, his arms tightening around you. He leans down, his mouth finding yours, and the kiss is sweet and tender, his lips moving over yours with a languid, easy affection.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask when he pulls away.

"You," he smirks, tilting his head. "Or I got into you. Something like that."

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, and you shove his shoulder. He smiles, a wide, crooked grin that makes your heart stutter.

"Come on," he says. He pulls away, grabbing your hip and turning you around, guiding you toward the fresher. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I can do it," you protest, but his arm wraps around your waist, holding you close.

"I know.” 

He doesn't elaborate, just steers you toward the fresher. You lean your hip against the sink while he turns on the shower, and you let him tug you inside, his scomp hooking the handle and closing the door behind the two of you. The water is cool, but it's not unpleasant, and the droplets feel nice against your heated skin.

Echo washes you with a gentleness that takes your breath away, and the tenderness is so at odds with the man you thought you knew. His touch is careful, almost reverent, and there's a quiet intensity in the way he traces the lines and angles of your body with his hand and his scomp, the movements slow and deliberate. He pays special attention to the space between your thighs, the touch firm but still gentle, and the sensation makes you bite back a whimper.

"Shh," he soothes, and his mouth finds the hollow of your throat. He kisses the delicate skin, and the gesture is so sweet that it makes your chest ache.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper.

"Because I want to," he says, and his thumb swipes over the swell of your breast. "And because you deserve it."

"Deserve it?" you ask as his mouth trails up your neck.

"Yeah," he murmurs. His hand slides up your ribs, and his fingers cup your breast, the palm covering the soft, supple flesh. It's a gentle touch, almost absentminded, and the intimacy of the gesture is so startling that it makes your breath catch.

"Why would you say that?" you whisper.

"Because it's true," he says, and his mouth slides along your jaw, the kiss tender. "Because you deserve to be taken care of. Because I like taking care of you."

"You do?"

"I do," he says, and the words are spoken against the delicate skin just below your ear. "More than anything."

"But—"

"It's okay," he murmurs. "Stop overthinking."

You swallow and nod, and his touch is gentle as he finishes washing you. When you're both clean, Echo leaves you under the water to change the sheets, and you try to ignore the fact that your limbs are a bit unsteady without him. 

The water starts to turn cold, and you quickly shut it off, squeezing some of the excess water from your hair. You step out of the shower and grab a towel, and you smile to yourself when you see your sleep clothes folded on the edge of the sink, Echo's handiwork evident in the perfect creases. You dry off quickly, and you're just pulling on your shorts when you hear the sound of the hatch opening and a pair of heavy footsteps rushing up the ramp.

“Echo!” Wrecker shouts, his voice frantic. The floor shakes slightly under your feet as he comes to a stop, and the hatch slides shut with a metallic clang.

You freeze, the fabric halfway up your thighs, and a bolt of panic shoots through you.

You can hear Echo outside of the fresher, and the rustle of fabric as he tosses the soiled linens to the side, followed by a few muttered curses.

"What?" he finally calls, his tone annoyed.

"There you are," Wrecker says.

"Where else would I be?" Echo snaps, and you can hear him tugging his blacks over his head.

"Crosshair said he lost track of you," Wrecker says, and you hear him walk across the ship. "Thought maybe you were in trouble. And we can't find Stitches. Have you seen her? She disappeared, and she's not answering her comm."

Your eyes go wide, and your stomach drops. Oh, fuck.

"Uh," Echo says, and you hear him shuffling around, the sounds a lot closer than they were before. "Yeah, she's here. She's just, um, taking a shower."

"Oh," Wrecker says. There's a long pause, and you can picture the look on his face, the puzzled frown as he tries to process the information. You can almost hear the gears turning in his brain, and you wait, holding your breath.

"We, uh, decided to head back," Echo explains after the silence has dragged on for a bit too long.

"Together," Wrecker adds. It isn't a question, but the note of suspicion is obvious, and Echo doesn't miss it.

"Yeah," Echo says, his voice strained. He clears his throat. "We were, uh, really tired. We were having a good time, but the club was really loud, and we just..."

He trails off, and you let out a quiet groan and press a hand to your face. You're tempted to leave the fresher, to make your presence known and get the conversation over with, but you can't quite bring yourself to open the door.

"Oh," Wrecker says again, and the way the word is drawn out makes you wince. You can practically hear the grin in his voice, and you know he's figured it out. "You guys had a good time, huh?"

"I mean, not like that," Echo says quickly, and you grimace.

"Uh huh.”

"We were just talking, and we decided to head back, and she was, um, she was drunk, and I was tired, and we were just gonna hang out and watch a holo or something."

"Right," Wrecker says, his tone knowing. "What holo were you gonna watch?"

"It’s uh…” Echo trails off, and a moment later, he lets out a sigh of defeat. You can’t help but laugh at that, the sound loud enough to echo off of the tile.

"Hey Stitches,” Wrecker calls out in greeting, and you roll your eyes and open the door.

"Hi Wrecker," you say, leaning against the door frame.

"Did you have a good time?" he asks with a wide grin.

"Yeah," you say, and you can't help the way your eyes flick to Echo. "We had a really good time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Echo echoes. His eyes meet yours, and the expression on his face is soft, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You smile back, unable to keep the happiness from welling up inside you.

"Yeah," you say. You can't help the way you feel yourself blush, the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was, uh, really good."

Wrecker's grin widens, and he glances at Echo, giving him a thumbs-up. Echo blushes, his cheeks turning pink, and his shoulders lift in a small shrug.

"That's good," Wrecker says, beaming. "I'm happy for you guys."

"Thanks, Wrecker," you laugh. "Sorry for making you worry."

"It's okay." He waves a hand. "I'm glad you two had a good time. It's about time."

"Wrecker," Echo groans, and Wrecker lets out a loud guffaw.

"What? I'm not wrong." He looks between the two of you, his smile growing wider. "We've all been rooting for you two. We were starting to get a little worried, honestly. I thought I was gonna have to lock you guys in a closet or somethin'."

Echo lets out a groan and buries his face in his hand, and the sight is so comical that you snort a laugh.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," you say dryly.

"Nah, don’t apologize.” Wrecker pauses, his expression thoughtful. "Well, actually, maybe apologize to Crosshair. He's not too happy about this, since it means he lost the bet."

"The bet?"

"Oh yeah," Wrecker says. "We had a running bet on when you guys would finally hook up. Crosshair thought it would take you until at least next month, so he's pretty pissed."

"You guys were betting on us?" you ask, aghast. Echo's hand slides down his face to cover his mouth, and in his eyes is a mixture of mortification and disbelief.

"Hey, don't look at me," Wrecker says, holding his hands up in defense. "I was for you two from the start. I had last month."

"For fuck's sake," Echo mutters, and he leans against the bulkhead and stares at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Just kill me now."

"Who won?" you ask.

"Hunter," Wrecker grumbles, and he lets out a huff. "He has an unfair advantage, if you ask me."

You and Echo exchange a glance, and Echo shakes his head, looking resigned.

"Don't worry, though," Wrecker continues. "We're all glad you two are finally together."

"Yeah, well, thanks, Wrecker," Echo mutters, and Wrecker beams.

"No problem. Anyways, I’m gonna head back to the club," he says, winking. “You guys enjoy the rest of your night.”

"Sure," Echo groans, his head thumping against the bulkhead.

"Oh, we will," you say, and you shoot Echo a wicked grin. He meets your gaze, his eyes widening and his cheeks going pink before a slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my girl," Wrecker crows. He grins and waves before turning on his heel and heading down the ramp. The hatch opens with a hiss, and you listen as the sound of his boots fades into the distance.

The silence is a welcome relief, and the tension seems to leave Echo's shoulders, the muscles relaxing. He takes a step toward you, his scomp reaching out to pull you close, and the motion is so sweet and natural that it makes a wave of emotion rise up inside you.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

"So," you start slowly. "That was fun."

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "If you wanted to keep it quiet, I'll talk to them."

"No, it's okay," you say, smiling. "I think it's nice."

"You do?"

"Yeah," you say. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down for a quick kiss. "And I'm kind of proud that you're finally mine."

"Finally?" he asks, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well, yeah," you say. You press a kiss to his throat, right above his pulse, and his chest rumbles with a contented hum. "I've been interested in you since day one."

"Really?"

"You're kind of hard to resist," you admit, and he huffs out a soft laugh.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

"Well, I'm glad you're not fighting it anymore."

"Me too," he murmurs. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and he leans down and brushes his lips over yours. The kiss is tender, affectionate, and his hand trails over your lower back in a gentle caress.

You pull back, and his forehead dips to rest against yours, his breathing steady.

"Do you wanna watch that holo?" you ask, and he huffs a laugh.

“Sure.”

You grab your datapad and settle onto the bunk, and Echo curls up beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His touch is warm and comforting, and the feeling is enough to make your chest ache.

You put on a mindless holodrama, some action flick that's probably more entertaining if you've actually seen the other movies in the series. You don't mind, though. The plot isn't that interesting, and the acting is pretty bad. What really draws your attention is the feel of Echo pressed against your side, the weight of his arm draped over your waist, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It's comfortable, and intimate, and just what you both need.

And if, during the holo, Echo's hand starts creeping up your shirt, and his mouth starts tracing the curve of your jaw, well, that's nobody's business but yours.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams

Please take good care of them!

ultimate character development template

basics

name: meaning of name: nicknames/titles: age: gender: location: birthday: strengths + example where it's shown: weaknesses + example where it's shown: how it affects others:

emotional depth

attachment style + how it manifests in the story: physical fear: emotional/abstract fear: happy memory: sad memory: object of significance: philosophical outlook/belief: what characters are ignorant about themselves: how confident are they: goal: long-term dreams: what they're embarrassed/ashamed to tell others about: regrets: source of pride: source of misery: what they admire above all else: do they believe in fate:

personality

mbti: enneagram: big five: character archetype: star sign: who they pretend to be on the outside: who they actually are/how they feel towards the mask: mental health conditions: how it manifests for them: iq: eq: humour: reputation:

habits

bad habits: mannerisms when stressed: mannerisms when content: mannerisms when scared: mannerisms normally: verbal mannerisms/distinctive speaking style: how do they move across a room: what do they say and what remains unsaid: how they express love: hobbies:

appearance

defining features: eye shape + colour: hair texture + colour: skin texture + tone: vibe: height: build: clothing: any bodily disfigurement (scars, etc.): overall attractiveness: their opinion on their appearance: appeals to:

relationships

who they trust most: what they wish they could do for them: what's holding them back: who they hate most: what they wish they could do to them: what's holding them back: relationship with the protagonist: relationship with the antagonist: siblings: relationship with them: parents/step-parents: relationship with them: previous broken relationships: why did it break: what others expect of them: who believes in them: their mentor character/who they look up to: political/religious/other affiliations: what makes them different from every other character: non-human relationships + why: romantic "type" + why: relationship dynamics:

backstory/background

primary emotion towards their past: primary feelings while in their past: where did they grow up: defining incidents: earliest childhood memory: saddest memory: happiest memory: major accomplishments: their opinion on it: notable people in their backstory: effect on them today: trauma: what have they already lost: financial circumstance:

progression

why are they important (eg. why're they the only one able to do something?): what do they learn about themselves throughout the story: what do they learn about the world: how do they feel towards their newfound knowledge: character arc (positive, negative, neutral): how relationships change because of their actions: what mistakes do they make: what scene is their character highlighted: do they get what they want: why or why not: what happens to them after the story ends:

Happy Bad Batch Day (9/9) to some of my favorite clones in the galaxy!

@tbbs-best-hair, @wrecking-ball-99, @kark-trooper-echo, @exceptionally-minded

@undefeated-dejarik-champion, and even @superiorsniper

May your day be filled with only good and happy things!

You too, @get-gonked!

i just want to see them all together and happy again

Today I begin construction of a motor-driven chain of individually linked steps on a track which cycle on a pair of tracks in order to keep the step tread horizontal. The goal is to improve access to our island's different levels, especially for residents who are disabled or elderly or otherwise have difficulty with the current stone steps.

I have drafted extensive blueprints, but still lack one key element... what should I name this project?

“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.

One possibility is:

Exceptional Staircase Contraption Accelerating Less-Abled Townsfolk Onto Ridges

Or Escalator for short :)

Today I begin construction of a motor-driven chain of individually linked steps on a track which cycle on a pair of tracks in order to keep the step tread horizontal. The goal is to improve access to our island's different levels, especially for residents who are disabled or elderly or otherwise have difficulty with the current stone steps.

I have drafted extensive blueprints, but still lack one key element... what should I name this project?

Tech has definitely done something when he is quiet.

I still enjoy season two but I can’t watch the last three episodes, and I’ve only seen season three once. Kinda crazy in comparison to the 9 or 10 times I’ve seen the rest plus the CW arc 😅🥲

Question for those of you that were... Deeply affected by Plan 99:

Knowing how it ends, are you able to rewatch season 2? If so, do you watch the whole thing, or is there an episode that you stop at/don't watch past?

I'm itching for a rewatch and I want to include season 2 in said rewatch since all two of my "rewatches" have only been season 1... But I want to tread cautiously. I haven't rewatched season 2 at all because..well.. ya know.

goggles :)

On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

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Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit. 

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson. 

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to. 

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster. 

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you. 

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open. 

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell. 

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust. 

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it. 

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself. 

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you. 

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild

Okay, but imagine:

The Bad Batch and their partners go viral on BookTok because the men pull off all of the book boyfriend roles so well.

Wrecker perfectly does the two hands on the top of the door frame lean, either in a tank showing off his built arms, or a button-down shirt that pulls on his large arms, half the buttons undone showing off his muscular chest. He'd also be 1000% on top of the throwing you over his shoulder and walking away with you.

Hunter would use the hilt of his dagger to tilt your chin up. He'd also be the master of the sleeve roll up and darkening eyes...

Crosshair, unf, where do I start? "You're mine" in his voice, ugh, I'm melting... He'd be able to do the chin tilt, the doorway lean, the 'good girl' perfectly without batting an eye or breaking character... Help .

Echo, king of reading the user manual, reads all of your spicy books and knows exactly what you want, reciting quotes perfectly to you. Also, brushing your hair behind your ear, dragging his thumb along your lower lip...

Tech would build you the most realistic cosplays of your book couples / boyfriends. Also, mechanic tech covered in grease, coveralls tied at the waist, info-dumping on you about the vehicle he's working on?

𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕖𝕒𝕥 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ꜰᴀᴄᴇ-ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

⋆ ★ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ ɪᴅʀᴋ. ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪʟᴛʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴘʟᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter - Actively drowns himself

Hunter thinks the best place he could ever be is buried deep into your cunt. He loves the feeling of every jerk of your legs, every single fold and crevice of your sex. Even then he feels like it isn’t enough, and presses himself to you so adamantly and for so long he leaves with his entire face drenched.

I’ve expressed before that his nose is a clit tickler and I still stand by that. He presses against it while he lets his tongue fuck into your hole, letting out heavy breaths that make you sigh and twitch against his face.

He wants everything from you. Wants you whining and bucking into him. Groans into your cunt “C’mon pretty, give it to me. Let me have it, oh, let me give you this,” when he’s making you reach your peak.

Tech - Treats it like a scientific experiment

There’s a method to making you orgasm thoroughly and pleasurably, Tech has discovered, and as a man of logic, it wouldn’t be correct to treat pleasuring you any differently than he does other situations.

The first time you let him between your legs, Tech takes his time to thoroughly take you in, and he collects his observations, infers what might make you cum the hardest, the fastest, and soon after he begins to run his “experiments.”

He concludes quickly that it’s all about the combinations of stimulation and how they’re applied, how hard or gently he sucks your clit in his mouth while his fingers probe your entrance, the speed of his index and middle pumping into you while his tongue gently licks around your folds. Tech won’t rest until he’s figured out everything that makes you click and cum.

Wrecker - Wants to be your chair

If you think Hunter is messy about how he eats your pussy, you haven’t seen Wrecker yet. This boy wants to be so roughed up and drenched you’ll be in need of a shower before he even gets his cock wet.

And he wants you to sit. Not hover, not squat, sit. You may express insecurities or worries of hurting him at first, but Wrecker is extremely adamant it’ll all be alright. I mean, come on. The man is huge, and any worry of crushing him is gone the instant he grabs onto your hips and situates you right on him.

Wrecker is incredibly eager when he laps at your cunt, tongue and fingers reaching any place he can, encouraging you to move and grind all over him so you can get your fill. If he gets your spend dripping down his chin and trailing down his neck, that just means hes given you and you’ve given him everything you can feasibly give, and he can wipe it away with a pussy drunk look on his face before asking if he can make you come again.

Crosshair - Does it more for himself than you

You could reasonably argue that Crosshair likes eating you out more than you like getting eaten out. This man craves it like he’s addicted, forever hooked on your taste, your body, every twitch and sigh and slight movement of your body forever ingrained in his mind.

Somehow, despite giving, he manages to be selfish. Crosshair is groaning into you, whispering things he knows you can’t hear because hes talking to himself (or your cunt). Even through that, he makes it good for you; being selfish doesn’t mean it won’t be enjoyable for the receiving party. If he’s slow and thorough about it (which rarely happens) he can make you see stars with the gentlest of pets. But usually, you come fast and hard. And no matter what, he makes you feel good.

Echo - Slowly but surely

Echo is probably one of, if not, the most romantic when it comes to eating you out. He doesn’t want you to do any work; “Don’t grind your hips, sweetheart. I’ve got it. Just feel good for me.”

Giving is something he feels is necessary to show his love and appreciation in the bedroom, so he wants you to lie back and let him make you fall apart at his own pace. And Maker do you fall apart.

Echo knows every single rhythm with his licks and pumps and sucks, every pattern he could follow that will make you feel so good your eyes are brimmed with tears once you do finally finish. But he’s quick to rise up and kiss them away, whispering little nothings while his hand traces the curves of your body, easing you back down from the high.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip @isaidonyourknees @salaminus @mekuiikore @crosshairscrustysock

I’m not normally a Wrecker gal but dang this was adorable

Playing Pretend

Pairing: Wrecker x Twi'Lek fem!Reader

Words: 16,373

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fake married, (not) unrequited feelings, Wrecker yearning x1000, some negative self talk, big "get your hands off my wife!" energy, some minor jealousy, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink obviously, light dom!Reader

Summary: The mission is simple: infiltrate a lavish party, plant a bug, and get out. The only problem: Wrecker has to pretend to be married to you, and he's not so sure he can hide how much he likes it.

A/N: Happy Wrecker Wednesday! This is definitely the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written, down to the nonhuman reader bc I'm getting a little bored with humans. With this, we've officially reached the end of the fics I wrote before creating this account, and we're going out with a bang (literally).

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This mission is going to be a disaster.

It's not that Wrecker doesn’t trust you, quite the opposite. You’re quiet, quick, and resourceful, and you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. You're built for infiltration, for gathering intel, and as far as the Batch is concerned, you have yet to fail a mission. So no, there’s no doubt in his mind you're the perfect spy.

It’s his own ability that gives him pause.

Hunter, Echo, hell, even Tech would’ve been a better pick for any sort of espionage mission over him. When Hunter informed them Wrecker was the one that was going with you, Wrecker laughed. A full belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and left his face aching, because the very idea of him sneaking around, being stealthy, well, it was ridiculous.

It was so ridiculous he was sure Hunter had meant it as a joke, but when he saw the serious look on his face, the one that told him his brother meant business, Wrecker began to sweat. He hasn’t really stopped since. 

Lying and pretending are two things he’s truly terrible at, coupled with the fact that he’ll be alone with you, playing pretend with you, and he‘s been on edge ever since.

It doesn't help that Cid insisted the only way you could get close to the target is by posing as a married couple. One that are newlyweds, at that. 

Wrecker knows this is a job, just a job, but it's still you. 

He's still going to be touching you, and not because you need him to, or you want him to, but because the job requires it. And the whole thing just has him feeling weird. He knows you can fake being a couple, but he's not sure if he can.

As much as Wrecker hates lying and pretending, he really doesn't hate you. If he's being honest, he probably likes you too much. So that's why, when Hunter told him about the mission, and then later asked if he was alright with the details, Wrecker had said yes.

The look Hunter gave him told him that he didn't quite believe him, and Wrecker wasn't even sure he believed himself. After all, it's no secret he doesn't have the greatest poker face. He doesn't like lying, especially to his brothers. But he also doesn't like disappointing them, or disappointing you, and he's willing to do just about anything to make sure you're safe.

The rest of the night before the mission was spent planning and strategizing, which meant he didn't see much of you. He wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling good about the plan, but he never got the chance. 

Now, here he is, in a small, nondescript hotel room with you, the rest of the squad holed up in the Marauder and waiting on your signal. The room itself is nice, but small, and there's only one bed. He’d felt his nerves spike when he first saw it, but he forced himself to relax. If everything goes according to plan, you won't be sleeping in it.

There are other things he's more worried about, anyway. Like how he's going to pull this off, and how he's going to manage not to fuck up, and most importantly, how he's going to manage spending the entire mission trying not to get too wrapped up in you.

That last part is the hardest.

He's sitting on the bed, the holomap spread out on the small table beside it. Your target is a small-time gangster, and he’s having a party at his penthouse tonight, so it's the perfect opportunity to sneak in. All you have to do is go through the party, find the main office, plant a few bugs, and then get out. 

Easy peasy.

At least, that's what Tech said.

Well, he said a lot more than that, but Wrecker had kind of zoned out around the time Tech started talking about security cameras and frequencies. 

What he does know is the bugs need to be placed somewhere in the office, and the two of you will have to blend in and seem as natural as possible until you can make your way there. Easy for you, but Wrecker knows he'll stick out like a sore thumb, even if he isn't in his armor.

“You alright, big guy?” 

Wrecker nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, heart in his throat as he feels your hand gently grab his arm. He tenses underneath your touch. 

He can’t remember the last time you touched him, or even the last time the two of you were alone together. Probably because it hasn’t happened. He thinks he would remember if it had, because it feels electrifying. Your manicured hand, complete with a wedding ring, slides against the fabric of his suit. It takes everything in him not to shiver.

Then he turns to face you fully, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head. 

No, he’s not alright.

You look absolutely stunning.

It's not like you don't look stunning every day, you do, and even when you're in armor, or covered in dirt and grime, Wrecker thinks you're beautiful. But this...this is something else. It's not fair.

You’ve shared a bit about Ryloth during your time together, and you’d mentioned that ever since you left the hot planet, you felt cold. He’s never seen you without a jacket except that one time you’d been shot in your shoulder, and even then, he was more focused on keeping pressure on the wound and getting you to safety than on what you were wearing.

But right now, he can't focus on anything else.

He, embarrassingly, tends to ogle whenever any inch of your vibrant skin is on display. He walked straight into a wall the time you stretched in front of him, and your shirt rode up to reveal a hint of the curve of your stomach. When he saw your legs in a dress at 79s, he shattered his glass. He couldn’t help it. That was one of the first times he realized he had a problem, but it certainly wasn't the last.

You're just...so much, all the time, and you don't even realize it. He's gotten better at being discrete, or at least, he's better at hiding his reactions.

But this is so, so much.

Made of some fancy shimmering black fabric, the top of the dress left nearly your entire chest exposed along with your arms. With two thin straps to hold it up, he doesn't know how it's staying in place, but he's sure if he looks hard enough, he'll find out.

A deep cut runs down the middle of the dress, starting right under your clavicle and ending in a point just below your stomach. It's long, coming all the way down to your feet and flaring out, and there are two slits up either side of the dress, exposing your thighs as you move.

There's no denying it, the dress is tight, and Wrecker is trying so hard not to look, honestly, but it's like his eyes are glued to your body.

You mentioned you would have a weapon on you just in case, but looking over you now — admiring the way the expensive fabric clung to every curve of you — he struggles to imagine where it could be.

He swallows. Hard.

The hand on his arm lets go to reach up and hold one of your lek, shifting it so both were draped over one shoulder. You’d gone all out with decorating them as well. Sparkling straps of black crisscrossed up to a velvet headpiece that takes the place of your usual bandana, all coming to a point high on your forehead, where a deep blue jewel sits at your crown. It shifts slightly with the raise of your eyebrows, and he realizes he's been staring, and he’s still not saying anything.

Wrecker forces out the first words on his mind.

“Wow! You look—wow..."

You give him a small smile, a hint of color darkening your cheeks, and his heart thuds in his chest. He wants to make you blush all the time.

He reaches out and grabs your hand, lifting it above your head with ease. Wrecker turns you into a spin, and he’s rewarded with your cute laugh and the sound of the dress swishing as you spin. And then he sees your back, entirely exposed all the way down to the dimples at the base of your spine, just above the curve of your ass.

Holy shit.

He has to look away, letting go of your hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling a little light-headed. This is already not going well.

“You clean up well yourself, handsome,” you say between a laugh, and he blushes more than he already is.

Wrecker doesn't consider himself all that good-looking, especially compared to his brothers, but you've told him once or twice he's not hard on the eyes. You've also told him he has a nice smile, which had him grinning like an idiot for a solid day. He's still smiling now, because hearing you call him handsome makes his heart pound in his chest.

Still, he's not used to all the compliments. It's a lot, especially when they come from you.

"Tech and Echo did the best they could, I guess," Wrecker shrugs. The motion stretches the threads of his dark suit, and he grimaces. It's itchy, and too tight, and he hates it. He doesn't get how people wear these things all the time. "Not really used to the fancy stuff."

You tilt your head, looking him over. He resists the urge to squirm.

“C’mere," you tell him, beckoning him with your hand.

Wrecker does as he's told, and your hands grab his tie. The feeling of you tugging him closer by the silk sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he can’t help but grin down at you as he watches you adjust it for him. 

Your mouth is pursed, nose wrinkling slightly as you concentrate on getting it just right, even though you both know he'll likely mess it up in a matter of minutes anyway. You’re so cute, and you're so close, and it would be so easy for him to lean in and kiss you.

He's thought about it a lot, and he's almost done it once or twice, but then you'd pull back, or one of his brothers or Omega would come into the room, and the moment would be gone. It was probably for the best, considering he doesn't even know how you feel about him.

“Thanks," he mumbles.

You're still standing close, your chest practically touching his.

"Of course." The words are soft, and they leave him feeling hotter than ever. 

He looks away from you, and catches sight of the two of you in the mirror. Wrecker has always been a bit of a sucker for a good romance, and this? This is right out of one of his favorite holovids. You're both dressed in the finest clothes, him in a suit, you in a gorgeous dress, and it's just the two of you against the world.

Except, this isn't real.

There isn't any grand romance, and the feelings that threaten to burst from his chest are his and his alone.

“You really do look beautiful," he says, his voice a little rough, but honest.

You meet his eyes in the mirror. He watches as the corner of your lips quirk up, and you look almost shy. It's adorable, and a little confusing, because usually, you're not so modest. He wonders what changed.

"I—thank you, Wrecker."

"And I'll keep sayin' it till you believe me," he adds, because it's true.

"Oh, I believe you," you laugh, and the sound warms him to the core.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah."

"Good. 'Cause you really do. You look—" Wrecker swallows, and then shakes his head. He's getting distracted, and it's not good, not when the two of you have a job to do.

"So do you."

You give his tie one last tug, and then take a step back. Your hands smooth down the front of your dress as you look down at your shoes. He can't tell, but he swears you look almost bashful. It's so unlike you that he wonders if you're actually okay.

"You sure you're good?" he asks, concerned.

You hum an affirmative, and then you mutter, “Just already looking forward to taking this off."

The words are mumbled, barely audible, and he doesn't think you intended for him to hear. Wrecker blinks, and his gaze travels down the length of your body, and his mouth goes dry. His mind can't help but wander. It would be so easy for him to reach out, hook his fingers in the thin straps holding your dress up, and just...

"Yeah, me too," Wrecker admits quietly, the words falling from his mouth without thought.

A second passes. Two.

Wrecker's brain catches up to his mouth. He sees the shift of your jaw and the bob of your throat, and he wishes the ground would swallow him up.

"Uh, yeah, I mean," Wrecker starts, trying to backtrack and failing, "because I hate this thing, and it's not very comfortable."

It's not the worst lie he's told, but it's pretty far up there. Still, the look of relief that crosses your face tells him you believe it. Your arms are crossed over your chest, holding yourself in a way that suggests you feel vulnerable, and the realization makes his gut twist.

Wrecker doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he feels terrible that he has. He didn't even realize that the dress, and the mission, could bother you. You always seemed so put together, and confident, and not bothered by much, that he just assumed you would be okay. But, you're not, and now he feels bad, and stupid.

"We don't have to do this," Wrecker offers, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shake your head, and he can see you forcing yourself to relax. "I can handle a few hours."

Wrecker isn't sure what to say. He knows you're capable, and he doesn't think you would offer if you didn't think you could do it, but the way you're standing makes him wonder.

"But you know if you don't wanna, that's fine too," he adds, because it is.

Hunter would probably give him an earful later, but you were the priority, and Wrecker would deal with whatever punishment was necessary to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He doubted Hunter would be mad, anyway. They're family, and family looked out for each other, and you were part of the team, too.

You look at him, and then down at the floor, and then back up at him.

"It's fine."

Wrecker bites his tongue, but only barely.

You're not fine, and he can tell, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. There's a reason you've always been the one chosen for missions like this, even back when you were still an intelligence officer and he was barely more than a shiny. It's not just because of your training and experience, but also because of the way you look.

The thought makes him angry. It isn't right, and he hates that you've been forced into this position. Until tonight, he'd held out some misguided hope that you wouldn't ever have to be put in a situation like this again.

He knows you can handle a lot more than most, but you shouldn't have to.

"Really, Wrecker, I'm fine," you say again, and it's only then that he realizes he's been staring at you.

"Are you sure? ‘Cause if—"

You step forward, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him. His eyes catch on the shine of your lips, and the warmth of your hand against his chest makes his heart race.

"If you keep asking me, I'm gonna start to think you don't want to be my husband," you tease.

"I'd love to be your husband," Wrecker replies without missing a beat, and he means it.

The words are true, even if the context isn't. It's the closest thing he'll get to a wedding with you, and that thought makes him want to scream. Instead, he settles on smiling, even as his heart races and his palms sweat.

"I'm sorry, I just don't wanna make you feel—"

"I'm kidding, ma sareen," you say, shaking your head, "I know. But really, it's okay."

He gives a slow nod, not sure how to respond. You've called him that before, and while he doesn't speak Ryl, he does know it's a term of endearment. One that he's overhead Suu say to Cut a few times, and one that you've used with him, and only him.

Every time, it makes him smile. But it's one thing for you to say it casually, and another entirely to say it in front of strangers, pretending to be married to him. He doesn't know why the thought makes his heart pound in his chest, or his ears grow warm.

"And hey, at least I have someone who can protect me, right?"

He grins proudly, and nods. That, he can do.

"You got that right."

"Then what's there to worry about?" you ask, a smile on your face.

That I might embarrass you, is what Wrecker wants to say, but doesn't. Instead, he follows you towards the door. You pause just before stepping through, looking up at him expectantly. He doesn't quite understand until you reach out and hold your hand palm up.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Give me your hand, Wrecker," you laugh.

"Oh, right," Wrecker stutters, slipping his hand into yours.

His hands are rough and calloused from years of fighting, but your hand is soft and gentle, and he tries his best not to squeeze too hard. You lead him out of the room and to the lift. You lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Relax, big guy, you've got this," you whisper, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Wrecker hopes you're right.

He's not sure how long the two of you have been here. An hour? Maybe two?

Whatever it is, it's long enough that his face hurts from fake smiling. His shoulders are tense, and he keeps a steady hand on your lower back, not willing to let go.

As soon as the two of you had walked through the door, the guards had taken your weapons, and it had been the first time Wrecker had felt truly unsettled since leaving the ship. Not only was he unarmed, but now, you were as well, and he was responsible for keeping you safe. They'd even taken the knife you'd tucked into the holster on your thigh.

They'd also frisked you, and while it wasn't the first time, or even the first time for him, it was the first time he'd seen it done like that. The guard had run his hands up the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to places he never should've been touching, and Wrecker had seen red.

The man was lucky all Wrecker did was grab his wrist and pull it away, his grip tight enough to bruise. The guard had stumbled, his face red as he tried and failed to apologize. It didn't matter to him. The bastard wouldn't be able to use that hand for a while, and Wrecker hadn't felt bad at all.

After, he'd wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close. He knows he probably shouldn't have, but he needed the reminder that you were safe. He could pretend it was just for show, but really, it was to comfort himself.

It doesn't help that every eye in the room has been on the two of you since you arrived, and while the stares are likely directed at you, Wrecker still doesn't like it. It makes his blood boil, and his skin crawl, and all he wants to do is get out of here. He hates how uncomfortable and vulnerable it makes him feel, and the fact that it's affecting him at all is embarrassing.

You seem to be doing just fine, chatting with various people, laughing and smiling and, unfortunately, flirting.

Not with him, no. With all the men and women around you.

It's the nature of the job, he knows that, but it still sucks.

You're doing your best to blend in, and it's working. He just tries his best to keep up with you. He doesn't trust any of these people, not even for a second, and the tension in his shoulders doesn't ease, no matter how hard he tries.

This is the first time he's been in a party like this, and he doesn't think he likes it.

When Tech had said the target was having a party, he'd expected loud music, maybe some dancing. What he got was an old-fashioned cocktail party, the type he's only ever seen in holovids, and the kind where the rich and powerful mingle and talk about politics and money.

It's boring, and the people are rude, and the lights of the chandelier make his eye twitch. But worst of all, no one can take their eyes off you, and he can't blame them. Even after the initial shock of seeing you dressed like that has passed, his eyes can't help but trail down the length of your body. And while you're definitely the most beautiful person in the room, he thinks there's a part of him that doesn't want anyone else to see you.

At least there's good food. And drink. And while he would never dare touch you without permission, it's nice to know he can do so now.

So he's taken every opportunity to do just that, to let everyone around know that you're his. He's kept his hand on the small of your back, the curve of your hip, the bend of your waist, and he's made sure to be close to you at all times. You don't seem to mind, which is the best part, and it makes his chest swell with pride.

Your arm is tucked around his, your fingers laced with his own, and he loves the way you lean into him, like you need him, like he's a safe place for you. He doesn't know if you do, but it doesn't stop him from wishing.

Wrecker looks at the ring on his finger. It's a simple gold band, nothing fancy, and it reminds him that this isn't real. It's just for the job, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. Because if he doesn't, it'll be easy for him to lose sight of that. And if he loses sight, he might do something stupid, like kiss you, and he's not sure if he'd be able to stop.

"So, where did you two meet?"

Wrecker tears his gaze away from you and to the Twi'lek across from him, her blue lekku adorned with jewels. He has no idea who she is, but the two of you are getting along so well he doesn't want to interrupt. You're the only Twi'leks in the room, and he thinks that might be the only reason the two of you are talking at all.

"Oh, it's a little embarrassing, actually," you answer, a shy smile on your face.

You squeeze his hand and glance up at him, and his stomach flutters.

"Not really," he mumbles, cheeks warm.

"You don't think so, but I might," you giggle, and Wrecker can't help the way his mouth quirks up in a smile. He wants to kiss your forehead, or your cheek, or your lips, but he doesn't.

The Twi'lek woman laughs and sips her drink, leaning in close to listen.

"C'mon, tell me, I'm dying to know."

Wrecker's not sure what story you've told everyone else, so he's not sure if this is part of it, but the way you look up at him makes his heart skip a beat. You squeeze his hand again, and he wonders if it's supposed to be a sign. It's a little distracting.

"Well, um, we met when he saved my life."

Wrecker nearly chokes on his drink.

The Twi'lek raises a brow, glancing between the two of you. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"That's not embarrassing."

"Yes, it is. Because he saved my life, and instead of being grateful, I called him an idiot," you tell her, a blush rising to your cheeks.

It's the truth. When you were still an officer, your unit was under fire. You'd been separated from your squad, pinned down, and Wrecker had found you. He'd pulled you from your hiding spot and out of the way, and the two of you had barely escaped unscathed. But the first words you'd said to him were, 'You idiot, you almost shot me.'

In his defense, he was a little distracted at the time.

"What did you say to that?"

Wrecker shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much."

You look up at him, your eyes shining. "I mean, he did save my life, so I apologized, obviously."

"Obviously," the woman nods.

"And, um, well," you stumble, and Wrecker wonders what's making you so nervous. It's not like you to be caught off guard, but you seem almost embarrassed. "He's the kindest man I've ever met, and I was immediately charmed by him."

Wrecker can't hide the surprise that crosses his face, but he does his best.

"It was hard not to fall for him," you admit, a softness in your voice that wasn't there before, "and, well, here we are."

Your gaze meets his, and the tenderness in your eyes takes his breath away.

"So romantic," the woman sighs, and you nod in agreement.

"Yeah, it's...it's somethin'," Wrecker says quietly, his chest tight.

He doesn't think anyone's ever talked about him like that, let alone in front of a bunch of strangers.

You lean into him, a soft smile on your face. Wrecker's hand slides from your waist to rest on the small of your back, and his eyes linger on the curve of your lip, the slight shimmer on your cheek. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes drop down to watch the motion, and his heart thuds against his ribcage.

He can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to what you're saying. It's not like you've been lying the entire time, and Wrecker isn't naïve. He knows this is all part of the act, but the way you're looking at him makes him feel like you might mean it.

Wrecker can't help the way his mind wanders, or the way his stomach flutters when your lips brush his ear as you whisper, "You alright, darling?"

His breath hitches in his throat, and it's hard not to shudder as you trail a finger up his arm.

"Yeah, m'fine," he manages, the words shaky.

Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and he has to fight the urge to groan.

"We've got company," you whisper.

Wrecker tenses, scanning the room. It takes a moment for him to realize you mean the target. He's making his way through the crowd, and it's only a matter of moments before he's approaching.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kasta," he greets, an air of confidence in his voice, "welcome."

Wrecker nods at him, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't trust himself not to say something stupid. He's already fucked up a few times tonight, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself. Besides, you're already taking the lead, smiling brightly at the man.

"Thank you for having us, Mr. Dralig," you tell him, giving a slight bow.

"Please, call me Bohme," he insists, returning the gesture. "Always a pleasure to meet such an esteemed couple as yourselves. You look ravishing, Mrs. Kasta."

You blush, and Wrecker fights the urge to roll his eyes. You are the most stunning woman in the room, and he can't imagine how this asshole could think otherwise, but the compliment still makes him bristle. He can't understand why you don't seem more annoyed.

"Well, thank you," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"I do hope you're enjoying yourselves," Bohme continues, "the food, the music, the view."

The man's eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and Wrecker doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what he means.

"Oh, yes, very much so," you reply easily, ignoring the implication, "thank you."

Bohme nods, and then turns his attention to Wrecker, giving him a quick once-over. Wrecker tenses. The man is short and thin, his features pinched and pale, but his eyes are sharp, and his mouth is curved up in a smile that's almost predatory.

"I must say, I was a little surprised when I learned the Kastas would be joining us tonight. I was told they were unable to make it."

Wrecker narrows his eyes, watching the man carefully.

"Yes, well, our schedules opened up, and my husband was able to move some things around. It's rare we get a night off, so I jumped at the chance," you tell him, reaching out to grab Wrecker's arm and squeeze it.

He's glad you're playing the part so well. It's definitely not something he's capable of, and he can't help but feel a little useless. But he can at least make sure you're not alone, and that this guy keeps his hands off you.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it."

"We're glad we could too. The party's been wonderful."

"Glad to hear it."

Wrecker shifts slightly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze. There's something unsettling about him, and Wrecker's never been able to hide his disdain for the people they're forced to work for. But Bohme's the mark, and so he tries his best not to stare, but he's never been good at playing nice.

"If I'm being honest, I thought the rumors were exaggerated."

Wrecker frowns, and you look a little surprised.

"Oh?"

"I see the scars aren't," Bohme adds, gesturing to Wrecker's face.

Wrecker doesn't reply, only glares. The scars have never bothered him, not really. Sure, sometimes people stare, or ask him about them, and sometimes that's more than a little awkward. But he doesn't hate them. He mostly just forgets they're there until he gets one of the phantom pains, or someone points them out.

This man, though, he's staring, and not with curiosity, but with judgement, and it makes Wrecker’s skin crawl. He clenches his jaw, looking for the words to tell him off that won’t make the entire operation fail, but thankfully, you're quicker than him.

"No, but I quite like them," you say, reaching up and brushing a hand over his scarred cheek.

Wrecker swallows, his head tilting down to meet your gaze. Your touch is gentle, your thumb brushing under his eye, and he watches as your eyes shift from cold fury to something warmer, kinder.

"They remind me of just how brave and selfless my husband is," you tell him, the words soft, almost as if they're just for him.

Wrecker blinks, his lips parting. He wants to respond, but his throat is dry, and he's not sure what he would say even if he could.

"And I would be lost without him," you add, your fingers sliding across his jaw.

He knows this isn't real, that it's just for show, and he's just a means to an end, but he can't help the way his heart races in his chest. Because the way you're looking at him isn't fake, and neither are your words. He doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is.

He can't find his voice, and he doesn't trust himself to speak, so instead, he takes your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist. You gasp, and your mouth parts, and he's so focused on the warmth of your skin and the way you blush that he barely registers the sound of Bohme's laughter.

"Oh, to be young and in love."

Wrecker doesn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation. He doesn't care. All he can focus on is you. The way you look up at him, and the softness in your eyes. The way you're pressed against him, and the way his arm is wrapped around you, and the way it feels like you belong there.

You've always felt right in his arms, like you fit perfectly, and every time you touch him, he wonders if it's the last. That's how it is now. Like it could end at any moment. So, he's memorizing everything, every detail, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice, the scent of your perfume.

Because when this is all over, he'll never be close to you like this again, and he'll never forget it.

"Ma sareen." 

He snaps out of his trance at the sound of your voice. "Hmm?"

"Could you be a dear and get me a drink?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

Wrecker leans in, pressing his lips to your temple, and he relishes the way your cheeks turn red and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat. He doesn't know what he's doing. All he knows is that it's worth it to see the look on your face, and the way Bohme looks like he's swallowed a lemon.

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze and turns, making his way through the crowd to the bar. It's the furthest place from the door, and the longest walk of his life, because his head is swimming, and his heart is pounding, and it’s giving him too much time to think.

And when he does, all he can think about is you. He's not blind. He can see the way you've been looking at him tonight, and the way you're touching him. It's driving him crazy, and the more time he spends here with you, the harder it is to convince himself that you don't feel the same.

Maybe you do feel the same, and he's just been missing the signs, too afraid to see them. Maybe he should do something about it.

The thought is scary. What if he does, and he's wrong?

But then he remembers the way your fingers slid across his cheek, the way you leaned into his side,  and the way you blush whenever he calls you sweetheart. It's enough to give him hope.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.

Wrecker blinks, glancing down at him. He'd forgotten why he was here, and his cheeks warm as he fumbles for an answer. Champagne seems like the right call for you. You'd both had a few glasses earlier, and it was fine, but he needed something much stronger if he was going to have a chance at getting through the rest of the night.

"Whiskey, neat.”

He doesn't pay attention as the bartender pours his drink. He turns around toward where couples are dancing, scanning the room for you. When he finally finds you, his stomach twists, and he has to force himself to breathe.

Bohme has his hands on your hips, and your hand is on his chest, and the way his head dips toward yours sends a flash of anger through him. The two of you are dancing, swaying back and forth, and while Wrecker knows it's a mission, and that you're just playing a part, it still makes his stomach churn.

Because even from here, he can see the look in the man's eyes, and it's not one of someone who's just playing a part.

"Is that all?" the bartender asks.

"What—no, no. Give me another," Wrecker mutters, grabbing the first glass and downing it in a single gulp.

It burns his throat, but it's the distraction he needs, because the two of you are getting closer. He's not sure if Bohme is going in for a kiss, but he knows he's not going to be able to watch it happen.

The second glass goes down just as quickly, and Wrecker winces, slamming the glass back on the bar and turning around. He doesn't know what's come over him. He's not a jealous person. Never has been, not even a little. He's been on plenty of missions with you, and seen you get close with other men, and while he didn't like it, he's never felt this.

Wrecker pushes past the dancing couples and walks toward the two of you. As soon as Bohme's hand slides lower on your back, Wrecker knows it's too much. You've gone along with the plan, but Wrecker's not going to stand here and watch you be taken advantage of, not by him, or anyone.

He storms up to the two of you, ignoring the startled looks on your faces and those around you. Before he can even think about what he's doing, Wrecker wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. His hand settles on your lower back, your skin warm and soft against his palm.

"Can I cut in?" he growls, his voice low and gruff.

"Uh—"

"I was talking to my wife," Wrecker snaps, his eyes narrowed.

The man's face pales, and his mouth drops open. He glances down at you, and then back up at Wrecker, and then steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.

You press your hand to his chest, and the motion is so familiar and comforting that his shoulders relax. He looks down at you, and his breath catches in his throat. There's a hint of a smile on your face, and you look happy, and his stomach flutters.

"Of course, darling," you murmur, your fingers curling into his shirt, "we were just having a nice chat, weren't we, Bohme?"

Wrecker glares at the man.

"Yeah, sure, we were," the man replies, taking a step back.

Wrecker knows he should leave it alone, and let you take care of it, but the whiskey has loosened his tongue, and the man's wandering hands have left him feeling more than a little possessive.

"Don't get any ideas, pal. She's married," Wrecker tells him, his voice a deep growl.

He's being harsh, but he doesn't care. You've had to deal with this asshole enough for one night, and Wrecker's tired of watching him touch you, and talk to you, and look at you.

"Of course, I would never," Bohme says, shaking his head.

Wrecker's not convinced, but he's not going to start a fight over it. As much as he'd like to knock the guy's teeth in, he doesn't. For your sake. And for the mission's, though he's caring less and less about that as the night goes on.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Wrecker asks, his tone gentler, more concerned, as he leads you away.

"I'm fine, darling," you answer, giving his arm a squeeze.

He's not sure if he's imagining it, but he swears you sound a little breathy. Wrecker's not surprised. If his heart is racing from the adrenaline of pulling you away from Bohme, then yours probably is, too.

"Sorry I forgot your drink," he mutters as he picks up his pace, "that guy just rubs me the wrong way."

"It's okay," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. As the two of you get further and further away, you add, "I was kind of hoping you would."

He stops walking, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"Nothing, ma sareen."

"Wait, were you—" Wrecker glances over his shoulder, and the realization hits him. You'd known the whole time, and were counting on him to notice, and he had. He's not sure if he should be mad, or embarrassed, or something else entirely. "Oh."

You tilt your head, looking up at him with an amused expression. "Yeah, oh."

"That's why you wanted a drink, wasn't it?"

You bite your lip, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was thirsty."

"I—"

"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with him."

"I wouldn't," he says, shaking his head, "not in a million years."

You look down, and his grip on you tightens. He doesn't mean to, but he's still shaken up, and your nearness is a comfort, even if it shouldn't be.

You lean into him, and he takes a step forward, pulling you close. His other hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, and his eyes drop to your lips. He doesn't mean to touch you like this, but now that he has, he doesn't want to stop.

"I know," you say softly, your breath warm against his palm.

"Good," he murmurs.

Your hand slips down his chest, and Wrecker shudders. You're standing so close, and your face is only inches from his, and your eyes are shining. The words leave him before he stop them, his voice a low rumble.

"And I don't want anyone else touching you, either.”

The sound that leaves your mouth sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he has to fight the urge to kiss you.

"Good," you whisper, the word nearly lost to the music.

"Really?"

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, and his heart skips a beat. "Mhm."

Wrecker lets out a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek. His lips are only inches from yours, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or the dress, but he feels bold. Too bold.

"Then, is it okay if I—"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Yes," you tell him, leaning closer, "but not here."

Wrecker freezes. Did he hear that right? Or is he imagining things?

"Why not?"

"Because," you start slowly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "if you kiss me, I'm not going to want you to stop. And we're in the middle of a party, and the mission's not over."

Wrecker doesn't even realize his mouth has fallen open until you reach up and close it for him. Your touch is gentle, and his cheeks are warm, and the softness in your eyes makes him melt. 

Your hand drags down to adjust his lapel before you slip something into his pocket.

"Got his keycard," you whisper, patting his chest.

Wrecker doesn't care. You could've told him you'd stolen the man's starship, and it still wouldn't have mattered. Not with the way you're looking at him.

"You're really somethin', y'know that?" he asks, and if he sounds a little breathless, he doesn't care about that either.

"So are you, ma sareen," you answer, smiling softly, "so are you."

"Almost done," you say, your voice soft, but urgent.

Wrecker is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked on you. He's careful not to touch anything in Bohme's office as you make your way around. His eyes are on the sway of your hips, and the soft curves of your body, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull you against him.

You'd managed to slip away, and while Wrecker is a little disappointed the two of you had to leave, he knows the sooner you're finished, the sooner you can be alone.

"Anythin' you need help with, sweetheart?"

"No," you answer, "I got it."

You're bent over, looking for something, and the view gives him a perfect view of the curve of your ass. It's a bit distracting, and his mind is wandering. He's thinking about how nice it would be to hold you in his arms, and kiss you, and the things he would like to do if he had the opportunity.

The list is getting longer by the minute.

"Just need a few more seconds."

"I'm not in a rush," he answers with a shrug. His eyes are locked on your ass, and the way it moves as you work. You'd asked him to keep watch, and that's what he's doing, just keeping watch.

"Yes, you are," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice.

"Maybe," he admits, not bothering to deny it.

He doesn't care if it's a little pathetic, or desperate. He doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. Not from you, and not from himself. He wants you to know, and to understand.

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. You're wearing a smile that makes his stomach flutter.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, a sultry note to your voice that makes his head spin. You walk over to the lamp on the wall and unscrew the glass. One of the bugs Tech had given you slips into the empty socket before you replace the bulb.

Wrecker blinks, his mind foggy.

"You."

You look surprised, and for a moment, he wonders if he's gone too far. But then, you smile, and he knows he's made the right choice. "Yeah? What about me?"

"Just how lucky I am," he tells you, the words sincere.

"Lucky?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Mhm."

You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh. "I think I'm the lucky one."

"I dunno. Pretty sure I'm the one who gets to take you home," Wrecker points out, a grin on his face.

Your eyes widen, and your lips part, and for a moment, you just stare at him, stunned. You let out a shaky breath, your face falling, and it's then that Wrecker realizes his mistake. You’re worth more to him than a quick roll in the sheets, and while he wants you, and the thought of it makes him hot and bothered, he's not interested in a one-night stand.

"I, uh, I didn't mean it like that," he stutters, his cheeks growing warm. “I—“

"Don't worry, darling, I know what you meant," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

"It's not like—"

"We should go, Wrecker. The others are waiting."

"Right," Wrecker says quietly.

He doesn't like the tension in your shoulders, or the way you won't look at him. He's not sure what to say to fix this. All he knows is that the moment is over, and his heart is pounding.

When the two of you step out of the office, the door slides shut behind you, and he grabs your wrist. You don't stop, and you don't turn around. But you don't pull away, either.

"Hey, c'mon, just wait a sec, please."

You stop, letting out a quiet sigh. "It's okay, Wrecker, you don't have to—"

"But I want to."

You look up at him, your jaw set, and there's something in your eyes that tells him you don't believe him. It breaks his heart a little. Because it's true. He's been wanting you for a long time, and even if you don't feel the same, he's not going to let you leave without knowing it.

Wrecker takes a step toward you, and another, and another, until he's pressed against you. He lets go of your wrist, and his hand settles on your waist.

"Wrecker, what are you doing?"

"Trying not to be an idiot."

"You're not an—"

"Yeah, I am," he interrupts, a soft smile on his face. "I'm not good with words, and I don't always know the right thing to say. But I'm gonna try."

"Wrecker," you whisper, your eyes wide, "you don't have to."

"But I want to. I wanna tell you the truth."

"The truth?"

He nods.

"And what's that?"

"That I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met," he tells you, his voice soft. "I think you're the bravest, and the kindest, and the smartest. I think you're the best, and I wish I was half the person you are."

"Wrecker, you're—"

He squeezes your waist gently. "Not done yet."

You smile up at him, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart race, and you nod.

"And I know I don't deserve you, and I know you're probably just being nice, and that maybe, I'm reading into this too much, but I don't think so."

You look like you want to interrupt him again, but you don't. He's grateful.

"I think there's something here. Between us,” he says. “And I've never been good at keeping my feelings to myself. I think about you all the time, and I can't help it.”

"Wrecker, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably."

You shake your head, laughing. "Wrecker, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tell me you have feelings for me."

"Well, that's because I do."

"What?" you ask, sounding almost as surprised as he felt earlier.

"Have feelings for you. I have a lot of 'em," he tells you, a smile on his face. It feels good to finally admit it. "I've had them for a while."

"How long?"

"Pretty much since I met you."

"Really?"

He nods. "Really."

"That's...a long time," you murmur.

"Mhm. So, that's the truth," Wrecker says. "And if you don't feel the same, or if I'm wrong, or if I'm misreading things, then just tell me, and I'll never bring it up again."

"I don't think I could," you answer, "not now, after all that."

"So, then, maybe—"

"Wrecker," you whisper, his tie and pulling him closer. Your lips brush his, and he has to fight the urge to groan. "I have a lot of feelings, too. I just didn't know you did."

"Yeah?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," you breathe, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't bother fighting the groan this time. He can't. Not when you're this close. Not when he can feel your breath against his skin. Not when your lips are ghosting over his, and the scent of your perfume is filling his nose, and the warmth of your body is pressed against him.

"Then, does this mean—"

"You can kiss me," you murmur.

Wrecker doesn't hesitate.

His mouth crashes against yours, his hands slipping down to your hips and pulling you against him. You let out a whimper, and it's all he can do not to moan.

He doesn't want to push too far, or scare you away, so he holds back. He kisses you with restraint, with tenderness, with love. Your lips are soft, and pliant, and your fingers tighten in his shirt as he deepens the kiss. It's even better than he imagined, and he's spent hours imagining it.

He doesn't care that anyone could see you. He doesn't care about the mission, or the bugs, or the fact that the others are waiting for you. He only cares about you, and the way you feel in his arms.

"Wrecker," you mumble, breaking the kiss.

"Hm?"

"We should go," you remind him, your voice soft.

"Right," he says, "just one more."

"One more," you agree.

Your lips are on his again, and it's just as good as the first time. Wrecker doesn't want to stop, and he doesn't, not until his comm buzzes, and his brother's voice rings out in his ear.

"Wrecker, status report. We need an update."

Wrecker groans, pulling away from you. "Tech, not a good time."

"Now is precisely the time," his brother replies, sounding exasperated. "What is the status of the mission?"

Wrecker glances at you, and you look back up at him with a soft smile on your swollen lips. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the feeling is so comforting and sweet that his chest aches.

"It's good," Wrecker answers, smiling. "The mission is going really good."

"Good?" he hears Hunter repeat. He's not sure if it's confusion or disbelief in his voice. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Great," he corrects, leaning down to kiss you again. "Really, really great."

"Oh," Tech mutters, and Wrecker can hear the gears turning in his head. "I…did not expect that."

Wrecker smiles down at you. "Yeah, well, neither did I."

“I see.” There's a pause, and the sound of shuffling, some muffled voices, and then Tech adds, "In that case, we will let you get back to your, ah, mission."

"Thanks, Tech."

"Mhm," his brother hums, sounding a little awkward. "You’re welcome. We'll see you both when you return.”

The comm clicks off, and Wrecker sighs. "Guess we should get back to the ship."

"Yeah, we probably should," you agree, though neither of you move. "Or..."

He perks up. "Or?"

"Or, we could go back to the hotel," you suggest, a playful note in your voice. "We did pay for the night, after all. It would be a shame to waste it."

"A real shame," he nods, his voice grave.

"Besides," you add, your hand sliding down his chest, "we could use the extra time to...discuss the details of the mission. Make sure we're on the same page, and everything."

Wrecker bites back a moan. The feeling of your hand on his chest, and the sound of your voice, and the suggestion in your words, and the glint in your eyes. It's enough to make his knees weak.

"What do you think, ma sareen?"

"I think," he murmurs, kissing your neck, "that's the best idea I've ever heard."

The two of you barely make it through the door.

As soon as it slides shut behind you, Wrecker’s lips are on yours. His hands haven’t left your hips since you entered the elevator. He guides you backwards, his hands roaming across your back and sides. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat straight to his cock.

Your back hits the wall next to the door, and Wrecker lifts you up, wedging a thigh between your legs. The dress is riding up, and his hand slips under it, and he's never been more grateful for Tech's insistence on getting a hotel room.

His tongue slides across the roof of your mouth, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you roll your hips, grinding against his thigh. The sound that leaves his mouth is embarrassingly needy as his hand moves higher, squeezing the soft flesh. Your knife has been safely returned to its holster, and his fingers run along the strap.

He wants to take his time with you, to make sure you know how he feels, but he can't stop touching you. You’re so soft, and he's been wanting to do this for so long, and the dress makes it so easy to find new places to explore.

"Wrecker," you whimper, arching against him.

He nips at your neck, and the soft whine that escapes your throat makes his knees weak. His hand squeezes the back of your leg, and his mouth travels lower, his teeth dragging across your collarbone.

"You look so fuckin' good in this," he tells you, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts. "Drivin' me crazy."

"Yeah?" you ask, reaching up to loosen his tie.

"Yeah," he grunts. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the tops of your breasts. You make a soft noise, and he smiles, his hand slipping up your thigh and pushing the hem of the dress higher. "Been thinkin' about taking it off all night.”

"Well, why don't you, then?"

Wrecker pulls away, and you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and dark. Your cheeks are flushed, and your chest is rising and falling, and you look so fucking gorgeous, he can't stand it.

He doesn't respond. His lips find yours again, and he pushes your skirt up higher, his hands bunching the smooth fabric. He tries his best to be gentle, but it's hard. The thought of ripping the dress from your body, tearing it off and tossing it to the side is appealing, but he won't. It's not his to ruin, and he doesn't want to make you mad.

"This okay?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, nodding. Your hands join his, and together you pull the dress over your head, and toss it aside.

He nearly drops you.

He doesn't, but it's a close thing.

"You—oh, fuck," he groans, his head falling to the crook of your neck, "you weren't wearin' anythin' underneath?"

You let out a breathless laugh, and the feeling of it makes his head spin.

"Surprised?"

"Uh, yeah."

He's not sure what to say, or what to do.

The only thing he can think about is the way your bare pussy is pressed against his thigh. Your nails drag across his scalp, and he shudders. He’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting, because all he can do is stare at you.

Your makeup is messy, your headpiece a little crooked, and your chest is rising and falling in short, shallow breaths, and you're looking up at him with a smirk that makes him want to drop to his knees and worship you.

"What's wrong?" you ask, tilting his chin up. "You can't talk now?"

Wrecker grunts. You're teasing him, and he can't even pretend he doesn't like it. He likes it too much.

"You're not playin' fair," he complains, his voice gruff.

"No?"

"Nope."

"Well, neither are you," you say, rolling your hips. The motion drags your pussy across his thigh, and the dampness on his skin has him groaning. You lean forward, your mouth next to his ear. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

He growls, and you gasp as his hands slide down, grabbing your ass. He hoists you up, putting your chest level with his face.

"Gonna show you," he rasps, "just how much you drive me crazy."

He's never seen anything hotter than the way you're looking at him right now, and he's not sure he ever will. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to blink, but he can’t help it when his tongue darts out and his lips close around one of your nipples.

The soft sound that escapes your mouth makes his cock throb, and he presses your back against the wall, holding you up with ease with one hand as the other comes up to fondle your other breast. His tongue is hot and insistent against your skin, and your breath catches in your throat when he drags his teeth across the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," you hiss, arching into him.

"Told ya you look good," he mumbles. He nips at the swell of your breast, and a moan escapes your lips. "Good enough to eat."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," he hums. "Can I?"

"Please."

You let out a squeak as he hikes you up further, his lips ghosting over your ribs, and then your sternum, and then the soft swell of your stomach. Your thighs are draped over his shoulders, and his hands are on the backs of your legs, holding them up and apart, and the sight of you above him is almost too much.

"You smell so fuckin' good," he growls, burying his face between your thighs.

You're already wet, and his nose bumps against your clit as he presses his mouth to your pussy. You're so warm, and soft, and when his tongue slides against you, you moan, the sound desperate and needy.

"Shit, Wrecker," you gasp, your hands coming down to grab his head.

"Just relax," he tells you, his tone a little patronizing. "I gotcha, sweetheart."

He dives in, his mouth eager and unrelenting. He licks and sucks and nips at the sensitive skin, and when his tongue pushes inside, you arch your back, rolling your hips. Your thighs squeeze around his head, and the noises that are leaving your lips are sending sparks down his spine.

He does it again, and again, and again, trying to coax more of those sounds from your mouth. He wants to see what he can get you to do, wants to know what makes you cry out, and moan, and scream.

You're trembling above him, and your pussy is so wet, he can feel it running down his chin.  

"Oh, fuck," you curse, and he can't help but grin.

Your hips buck against his face, and he grabs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. His fingers sink into the plush skin, and he spreads you apart, his tongue circling your clit. You shudder, and your thighs tighten around his head. He can tell you're getting close, and he can't wait to feel you fall apart, to see your face twist in pleasure, and hear his name on your lips.

He's never been good at this. He's always felt a little out of his depth, a little awkward, a little clumsy. But he's learning. He's watching your reactions, listening to the sounds you make, feeling the way your body responds. And he's paying attention, because he wants to be the only person who can make you feel like this.

He knows it's possessive. He knows it's a lot, especially since the two of you haven't talked about what this means. But he doesn't care. Not right now. He just wants you, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that's what happens.

You're writhing above him, and he can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing as his lips close around your clit. He makes sure he's got a good grip on you with one hand before sliding the other in between your thighs, and he pushes one finger inside you, and then another.

"Wrecker!"

He's pretty sure that's the hottest thing he's ever heard.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers pushing deeper and deeper. He's not even sure if he's hitting the right spot, but from the way you're writhing, and moaning, and cursing, it seems like he's doing something right. Your walls are squeezing his fingers, and he curls them, trying to find the spot that will make you scream.

You do.

Your whole body tenses, your thighs clamping hard around his head, and you throw your head back, crying out. He watches in awe, his eyes wide, and his mouth slack as you come apart above him. He can feel it, can feel your walls tightening, and the rush of heat as you climax, and he can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the soft, swollen flesh.

"Wrecker," you choke out, your voice cracking, and he knows he's never going to get enough of this. 

He keeps his fingers buried inside of you as he pulls away from the wall. You cling to him, and he carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress. His fingers slip out of you, and he watches in fascination as you clench around nothing, your body still trembling.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping to his knees and burying his head between your legs again.

You let out a noise of surprise, and his hands push your thighs open, keeping them spread wide.

"You did so good, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. He licks you clean, his tongue swiping through your folds. You squirm, and his grip on you tightens. "Gonna make you come again."

"Oh," you whimper, letting out a shaky breath.

"Just breathe, cyar'ika," he tells you, his lips trailing up your inner thigh. He can't get enough of the taste of you, or the way your body is reacting. You're still shaking, and the knowledge that it's because of him is making him delirious. He's pretty sure this is the best night of his life.

"I'm gonna make you feel good," he says, his voice soft and low. "I promise."

"You always make me feel good, Wrecker," you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "Always."

Wrecker grins and leans back, shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders. He's not sure where you want him, or how far you want to take things, but he's happy to follow your lead. He’s happy to do this all night, every night, for the rest of his life, if you asked.

He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, his eyes never leaving you. You're looking up at him, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling. He can't believe he gets to see you like this, so vulnerable and trusting.

"What is it?" you ask with a tilt of your head. The motion moves your lekku, and Wrecker's gaze follows. He's fascinated by the way they shift, and sway, and twitch. He wonders what they feel like, if you’ll let him touch them, if they're as sensitive as he's heard.

"Nothin'," he answers, shrugging.

"Liar."

"No, really," he says. Then, a grin spreads across his face, and he can't help himself, "I just like lookin' at ya."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"What about me do you like looking at, ma sareen?"

"Everything," he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice seems to catch you off guard. "Everythin' about you. You're gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell."

"Wrecker, you're not just saying that, are you?"

"Never," he promises, "not when it comes to you."

You bite your lip, and the way your teeth sink into the plump flesh sends a rush of heat through him.

"You're too good to me," you mumble, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart swell.

"Could never be too good to you," he replies quickly, shaking his head. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and leans back down, kissing the curve of your stomach.

"Wrecker," you sigh, your hands settling on his shoulders, "you're such a gentleman."

"A gentleman?" He laughs, his forehead resting against your hip.

"Mhm," you hum.

He glances up at you, his brows raised. "Sweetheart, I've had my face between your legs for the past fifteen minutes, and you're tellin' me I'm a gentleman?"

"Maybe I like a man who knows how to treat me," you suggest.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Wrecker chuckles, and then he kisses the top of your mound, and then the crease of your thigh, and then your knee. You make a soft noise, and his eyes flick back to your face.

"So, do you still want me to keep treatin' you?" he asks, and if the words come out a little nervous, he can't help it.

"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice, as if you can't believe he would think otherwise. You smile sweetly, and the weight in his chest lifts. "I want everything with you, Wrecker. Always."

"Good," he sighs, the tension leaving his body. "Because I want everythin', too."

Your head falls back against the pillows, your hands slipping from his shoulders to his head. You pull him closer, and he's more than happy to follow your lead.

"Then, come on, darling," you murmur, lifting your hips and spreading your legs wider, "give me everything."

Wrecker swallows thickly.

"Yes, ma'am."

His mouth is on you again, and you don't hesitate to let him know how good he's doing. You're not shy, and you're not quiet, and you're not afraid to take what you want.

And, gods, does Wrecker like that.

He's still a little in awe, a little dumbstruck by the fact that this is happening, and that it's not just some fantasy he's making up in his head. This is real, and you're here, and you're enjoying yourself, and the sound of your voice, the way you move, the softness of your body is so fucking overwhelming, it's making him delirious.

He wants to do this every night, for the rest of his life.

Your scent fills his nose, and your taste coats his tongue, and the slick, wet noises his mouth makes as he eats you out are driving him crazy. You're shaking beneath him, and your legs are draped over his shoulders, and your nails are scraping against his scalp. Your heels dig into his back, and his hands move down, holding you steady. He's not stopping until you tell him to, and from the way you're moaning, he doesn't think that's going to be anytime soon.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, his teeth scraping against your folds. "Gonna make you come again. Gonna get you nice and ready for me."

You whimper, and he knows he's made the right choice.

"Sound good?" he asks, voice muffled by your cunt.

"Mhm," you nod.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you moan, "yes, please, please, I want you to fuck me."

"Oh, I'm gonna," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit, "but first, I'm gonna make you scream."

He's not sure where he found the confidence, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice. He's too busy trying to get you to come for him again. He's licking, and sucking, and kissing, and nibbling, and it's only when you're begging him to fuck you that he finally pulls away for air.

"Not yet," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease of your thigh.

"Please," you whimper, "please, Wrecker, I need it. Need you."

He chuckles, his stubble scratching against the inside of your thigh. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Not yet, though. Just a little more."

He slips two fingers inside you, curling them, and your whole body jolts.

"Wrecker, please, I'm so fucking wet, just—"

"I know," he grins, pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your pussy is soaked, and the sound of him fingering you is obscene. It makes him want to shove his cock into you, to feel how tight and warm you are. "Gettin' you nice and wet for me."

"Don't—don't tease me," you huff, and Wrecker laughs, kissing your clit.

"I'm not," he insists. "Just tryin' to make sure you're ready."

"Ready?"

"Mhm." He pushes his fingers deeper, and he can feel the way your walls are already fluttering, the way your muscles are twitching. You're close, and he can't wait to see what you look like when you fall apart. "Wanna make sure you can take me."

"I can," you assure him, "please, I can."

"I'm gonna make you come again," he says, his voice soft. "And then, when you're all nice and relaxed, and you're beggin' for my cock, that's when I'm gonna fuck you."

"I'm begging now," you whine.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. "Be patient. It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Okay," you say, and the sound comes out strangled, like it's hard for you to talk. The way your voice breaks, and your chest rises and falls has him grinning, and he leans down again, his mouth eager and insistent.

"Fuck," you gasp, "oh, fuck, Wrecker, I'm—I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead," he encourages, his voice husky, "lemme see.”

Your head falls back, your whole body trembling as you come for the second time that night. It's even more beautiful than the first, and the way you pull his fingers deeper has him moaning against you. He doesn't stop until you're pushing him away, and even then, he doesn't go far.

Wrecker pulls back, slowly, his eyes on yours. You're breathing heavily, and your cheeks are flushed. Somewhere along the way the headpiece you were wearing had come loose, and it's resting on the pillow next to you. Your eyes are hooded, a dazed look on your face, and you look absolutely gorgeous.

"That was so fucking hot," he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Wrecker, that was..." you trail off, letting out a quiet sigh. "I've never come twice that fast before."

"Really?"

You shake your head, laughing breathlessly. "Nope."

"So, I guess I did a good job?"

"Good?" you repeat, looking almost offended. "Darling, it was incredible."

He grins wide and presses a kiss to your stomach. You cup his cheek, and your thumb brushes his lip. It's damp with your arousal, and the realization sends a wave of heat through him.

"I'm just glad I made you feel good," he says.

"Trust me, you did," you assure him, and the earnestness in your voice has his cheeks flushing.

"Glad to hear it," he murmurs. He nips at the underside of your breast, and you whimper.

"Wrecker," you mumble.

"Mhm?"

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Because," you answer, sitting up and grabbing his tie, "I want to kiss you."

He lets out a laugh. "Is that all?"

"No," you say, and the honesty in your tone makes him shiver. You tug on the tie, pulling him towards you until your lips meet in a messy kiss. He's careful not to put his weight on you, keeping most of it on his forearms as he presses closer. Your tongue is hot and insistent against his, and when your teeth scrape his bottom lip, a groan escapes his throat.

"Please," you mumble against his lips. "Please, Wrecker, fuck me."

“Was hoping you’d say that,” he grunts, a smirk on his face.

He kisses you again, and it's rough and needy and a little clumsy. Your hands are roaming across his back, and when they tug on his shirt, he reaches around, pulling the hem out of his pants and working the buttons open.

He doesn't have the patience to undo them all, so he tears the shirt and tie off and tosses them aside. He breathes a sigh of relief at finally being free from the restrictive fabric, only to suck in a sharp breath as your nails scrape his sides. The sensation sends a shiver through him, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, panting.

You don't let up, your hands exploring the planes and divots of his bare chest. His skin is on fire, and his muscles are flexing beneath your touch. Your mouth finds his neck as your fingers move to undo his belt, and his whole body jolts.

You hum, pleased, and Wrecker knows he's in trouble.

Your teeth sink into his shoulder, and your tongue swipes over the marks, and when you press a kiss to his pulse point, he has to remind himself not to get carried away. He's not even inside you yet, and he's already on the verge of losing control.

"Wrecker, I'm tired of waiting," you whine, your hand sliding under his pants and squeezing his ass. "I need you."

"Shit," he curses, his cock twitching in his boxers. "I need you, too."

"Then, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothin'," he says, sitting up. "Absolutely nothin'."

He gets to his feet, pulling off his shoes and socks faster than he's ever undressed in his life. He shoves his pants and boxers down, and his cock springs free. You let out a quiet noise, and he feels a surge of pride as your eyes move down his body, and widen.

"Oh, Wrecker," you breathe, and the awe in your voice is so fucking satisfying. "You're..."

"Yeah?"

"It's so big," you murmur.

He feels the tips of his ears burn. He knows he's big. He's bigger than most, and he's always been worried about scaring people off.

"Do you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He's not convinced. "It's okay if you can't, y'know."

"I know, Wrecker," you answer, sounding amused. "I can handle it."

"I just don't want to hurt you."

"I know. And it's sweet. But if you don't come here and fuck me right now, I'm going to go crazy."

"Well, we can't have that," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips.

He climbs back onto the bed, and you move to meet him halfway, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kneel together. Your chest presses against his, and you're so warm and soft, and he feels like he's going to melt.

He kisses the tip of your lek, and you let out a squeak, and the sound is so cute, he has to kiss the other one, too. He wants to kiss every part of you, and he plans to, someday. Right now, though, he's got something more important to take care of.

His mouth finds yours, and he cups the back of your neck, holding you still. You're pressed together, skin to skin, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. Your hands are moving over his shoulders, down his chest, across his stomach, and when your fingers wrap around his cock, his hips buck.

"Fuck," he groans.

You give him a slow, languid stroke, and his eyes nearly roll back.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, your hand moving up and down, spreading precum along his length. You press a kiss to his shoulder, and then his collarbone, and his jaw, and his chin, and his mouth.

"I—ah," he grunts, his forehead falling to rest on yours, "You're kiddin', right?"

"Why would I be kidding?"

"You've got a lot more goin' for ya than me," he replies, his cheeks flushing. "A hell of a lot more."

"Nonsense," you say, shaking your head. Your grip tightens, and his breath catches in his throat. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and the things I want to do to you are..."

"Are what?"

"I'd rather show you," you admit, and there's something in your voice that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Well, go ahead, then," he encourages, giving you a toothy grin. "Show me."

Wrecker lets out a surprised yelp when you grab his shoulders and push him back, his back hitting the mattress. He laughs, and then you're on top of him, and his laughter dies, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.

You're straddling his waist, and the sight of your naked body above him is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. His hands move on their own, running across your thighs, your hips, and your ribs.

"This is a good look for you," you say, smirking.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

You lean down and kiss him, and he can't help the way his hands wander, one moving up to squeeze your ass, and the other finding your breast. He can't get enough of you, and he doesn't know if he ever will. He squeezes, and rolls, and fondles, and when his thumb brushes your nipple, you break the kiss with a soft moan. You pull away, and he chases after you, his lips pressing against yours.

"Wrecker, stop," you giggle, swatting his hand away.

"I can't help it," he tells you, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your neck. "You're too kriffin' sexy."

"I need you inside me," you say, pushing his shoulders back. "And I'm not going to be able to get there if you keep distracting me."

"Alright," he sighs, falling back against the mattress. "Go ahead, I'll be patient."

"Good boy."

His eyes go wide, and his cock throbs at the words. He knows he likes being praised, and he's not ashamed to admit that, but the way it makes him react is almost embarrassing.

"Oh," you grin, and the mischief in your eyes has his heart racing. "You like that?"

"Yeah," he nods, his cheeks flushing.

"What else do you like?" you ask, leaning forward and grinding against him.

He swallows thickly. "Um."

"Wrecker," you say softly, and his eyes dart up to yours.

"I—" he stammers, his gaze flicking back down to your cunt. "I, uh—you know, I've never really had anyone ask me that before."

"Well, consider this the first time," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell me."

"Uh."

"Come on," you urge, kissing the other side, "tell me what you like."

"I like makin' you feel good," he blurts out. "I like it rough, I like bein' told what to do. I like knowin' I'm doin' a good job. And I like you, so—so just...tell me how you feel, or somethin', and I'll be happy."

"I can work with that."

You sit up, and the motion brings your pussy closer to his cock. He watches with wide eyes as you raise yourself up and guide his cock between your folds, the tip brushing against your entrance. His hips twitch, and his hands come up to grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"Kriff, you're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes on the place where his cock is just barely penetrating you. "You're amazing."

"So are you," you reply.

He's not sure he agrees, but he doesn't have time to argue, because you're sinking down onto him, and his brain stops working.

You let out a quiet sigh, and Wrecker tries his best to keep his composure, but the wet, hot, tightness is too much. His hands tighten, his fingers digging into your sides before he realizes what he's doing. He relaxes his grip, his palms sliding across your skin, his eyes still on where your bodies are joined.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologize," you interrupt, your hips shifting, and his cock pushes a little deeper.

"I can't help it," he huffs, "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You're not hurting me," you promise, one hand settling on his chest. The other takes his hand, and you lift it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I'll tell you if you are, alright? So, don't worry. Just relax."

"Okay," he nods, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."

"Good boy," you praise, and Wrecker feels a wave of heat crash through him.

Your hips shift, and you sink down another inch. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into a fist. Your mouth is hot and insistent against his knuckles, your tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. You kiss his fingertips, and then his palm, and then the back of his hand. You nip at the fleshy part beneath his thumb, and he hisses, the sensation sending sparks up his arm.

"Fuck," he groans, and his hips buck, and his cock slides a little further inside.

"You're so big," you murmur, your hand sliding up his arm and over his chest. Your nails scrape his skin, and he trembles. "So fucking big, Wrecker."

"Yeah?"

You nod, your mouth open, and your cheeks flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy, and your breathing is shallow, and he can't believe how lucky he is to be here, with you, in this moment.

"I'm gonna—gonna make you feel good," he promises, and you laugh, your walls fluttering around him.

"Oh, darling," you sigh, lifting your hips and sinking back down, taking him a little deeper, "you already are."

His eyes squeeze shut, and his grip on you tightens. He tries to remember to breathe, and not to buck his hips, and not to pull you down and bury himself to the hilt. You're still kissing his hand, and the softness of your lips has him melting, his shoulders falling back against the bed.

"Look at me, ma sareen," you murmur.

Wrecker does.

The sight that greets him nearly sends him over the edge. You're hovering above him, his cock buried inside you, your lekku dangling in the space between your bodies. The lights in the room are dim, but the glow is bright enough to highlight the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips, and the way your skin seems to shimmer.

You're breathtaking.

"You're amazin'," he says again, because he doesn't have anything better to say.

"You're so sweet," you chuckle, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love that about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

You kiss him again, and his mouth opens under yours. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, his hands moving to your hips, guiding your movements. You roll your hips, and his cock slips out of you, before sliding back in. You do it again, and again, and again, until the tip of his cock nudges against the end of your channel.

"Oh, shit," you gasp, sitting up, and bracing your hands against his stomach. "Oh, gods, Wrecker, you're—you're so fucking deep."

"Does it feel good?"

"So fucking good," you whimper.

He sits up and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He can feel the tips of your lekku resting on his chest, and they're even softer than he imagined. He presses a kiss to the base of one, and then the other, and then he's kissing your neck, his stubble scratching against your skin.

"Ah," you sigh, your hips rocking. "Wrecker, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good," he growls, and then he grabs your ass and pulls you down onto his cock.

You let out a surprised cry, and then you're moving faster, grinding down on his length. He thrusts up, his hips meeting yours. Your hands are everywhere, roaming across his back, his shoulders, and his chest. You're not shy about it, and you don't hold back. You squeeze, and stroke, and touch every part of him, and it's making him dizzy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, and Wrecker grunts, his teeth scraping the base of your lekku. "So fucking good, Wrecker."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, and then you're pulling away, and his chest aches at the loss. You push him back against the pillows, and he stares up at you, his lips parted as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your hands are planted on his chest, and your nails are digging into his skin.

He watches in awe as you take him, his cock disappearing between your legs. No one's ever taken him like this, no one's ever been able to handle him the way you are. You're not afraid, and you're not shy, and you're not afraid to get what you want.

"You're kriffin' perfect," he says, and then he's reaching for you, his hands cupping your face.

Wrecker kisses you, and the sound that leaves your throat is so needy, and desperate, that he can't help but thrust up into you, harder and faster. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you suck on it, drawing a groan from his chest. He's trying to hold on, to last as long as he can, but it's not easy. Not when you're riding him like this, and making him feel like this.

You pull away with a gasp and bury your face in his neck, and the warmth of your breath makes him shiver. He can't see your face, but he can feel the way you're shaking, can hear the quiet noises you're making.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough.

"So much," you whine.

"Gonna come for me?"

"Yes, please, yes," you whimper.

"Gonna scream for me?"

"Oh, Wrecker," you moan, your teeth sinking into his shoulder, and the pain goes straight to his cock. "Wrecker, you're making me—I'm so close, please, harder."

He doesn't hesitate to follow your orders.

He lifts his legs, spreading them wider, and you slide a little further down his length. His hips snap up, and your whole body jolts. The first slap of skin against skin has him groaning, and the second has him cursing, and by the time his balls are slapping against your ass, you're begging him not to stop.

He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. He thrusts again, and again, his pace building. Your cunt is dripping, the wetness seeping from your entrance, and the lewd squelching sound fills the room.

His hand cups the back of your head, holding you close. You nuzzle against his shoulder, your lips pressed to his collarbone, and the sensation is so fucking intimate, so sweet, he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold out.

"Sweetheart," he grunts, and he doesn't have the words to continue, doesn't know how to tell you he's going to come, doesn't want this to end.

"You're so good," you whisper, and he can feel his balls tightening, "so fucking good, Wrecker."

"Can I—I'm gonna come," he warns.

"Oh, fuck, me, too."

"Where—where do you want me?"

"Inside," you whine, and Wrecker has to grit his teeth to keep from coming on the spot. "Wrecker, inside, please, fill me up, I want it, want you."

"Shit," he groans, "fuck, fuck, sweetheart, you're—oh, shit, I'm—"

Your body goes stiff, your walls fluttering around his cock, and his mouth falls open. He's not prepared for the feeling of your pussy gripping his length, or the sound of your breathy moans. He's not prepared for the way your thighs tremble, or the way your back arches, or the way his name spills from your lips.

He's not prepared for the orgasm that crashes over him, the heat and the pleasure that rushes through his veins, and the way his whole body shudders as he comes inside you.

He can't remember the last time he came this hard, the last time he lost control like this. The feeling of your cunt around him is too much, and his head falls back, his eyes squeezing shut. The only thing that keeps him tethered to reality is the sound of your voice in his ear, a string of words in a language he doesn’t understand falling from your lips.

Wrecker holds you, his arms wrapping around you, and his hips buck, his cock twitching. He can't get enough, can't stop coming, can't stop fucking up into you. Your moans are soft, and gentle, and it's not until his own climax has subsided that he realizes you’re slumped against him, your breathing heavy, your face pressed to his neck.

"Shit, sorry, cyar'ika," he mutters as he realizes his grip has tightened. He moves to pull his hands away, but you reach out, taking his wrists and placing his hands back on your waist.

"No," you whimper, "please."

"Sweetheart, I'm hurtin' you."

"Just a little longer," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the base of his throat.

He's not sure why, but the request brings tears to his eyes. You want him. You want him to hold you, and touch you, and the realization makes his heart swell.

"Alright," he agrees, and you sigh and nestle closer.

He lays there, his softening cock still buried inside you, his arms around you, and his fingers find their way to your lekku. He strokes them gently, and you shiver, your body trembling.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels nice."

"Good," he says, smiling. "I like touchin' you."

"I can tell," you laugh and press a kiss to his chest.

He continues, his fingertips tracing a path down the side of one, and then the other. He doesn't know how much time passes. He's lost in the feeling of you, in the warmth of your body, in the softness of your skin. He doesn't even realize his eyes are closed until he hears you laughing.

"What?" Wrecker asks, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Are you asleep?"

"No," he answers, shaking his head, though the blush on his face gives him away. "I was just restin' my eyes."

"You sure?" you ask, and there's a teasing tone in your voice.

"I'm sure," he says, and then you're pulling away. His arms drop, and his cock slips out of your cunt, and his mouth falls open. Your combined release is leaking out of you, dripping down his cock and onto his stomach.

"Wow," he breathes.

"Is it a bad 'wow' or a good 'wow'?" you ask, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

"The good kind," he answers, his eyes roaming over your body before returning to your face. His brows furrow. "Can I kiss you?"

"Wrecker, you don't have to ask," you tell him.

"Well, um," he starts, his cheeks turning pink. "It's just, I'm not really good at this part."

"What part?"

"The after part," he tells you. "I mean, it's always been, you know, in the dark, or quick, and I don't know how you feel about kissing and cuddlin' after, and I just...I dunno, I just like you, and I want to do it right."

"Oh, Wrecker," you laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like kissing and cuddling."

"You do?"

"I do," you nod, a smile on your face. "There's nothing more I'd rather do than kiss you, and cuddle with you, and hold you, and fall asleep with you. That is, if you'll have me."

"Oh.” He blinks. "Yeah, um, I'd like that a lot."

"Then, by all means, darling," you tell him, "kiss me."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nod, grinning. "Please."

Wrecker leans forward, his hand cupping your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours. He licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, and the soft moan that leaves your lips makes his heart soar.

"You're incredible," he breathes, and the smile on your face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You are too," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I hope that was everything you were hoping for."

"It was even better," he says, his hand moving down and resting on your hip. "Can we do it again?"

"Right now?" you ask, and he can't help but laugh.

"I was thinkin' tomorrow, maybe," he tells you, his thumb stroking your skin. "I'm gonna be honest, sweetheart, I don't think I'm gonna be able to go again for a while."

"Me either," you reply, laughing.

"But," he starts, his grip on your waist tightening, "when I am, you want to?”

"Of course," you tell him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I have some other ideas I'd like to run by you, if you're interested."

"I'm very interested." He grins. "Lets get cleaned up, and then you can tell me all about ‘em.”

"Mm," you whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to move.”

“Not a problem,” he replies, and before you can say anything, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You squeal, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he slides off the bed, holding you against him.

"Wrecker, put me down," you giggle.

"You're the one who didn't want to move," he reminds you.

"Put me down," you say, but your voice is full of laughter, and you’re smiling.

"No," he teases, shaking his head.

"Wrecker," you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he replies, mimicking your tone. “I’m a gentleman, remember? And a gentleman always carries his girl to the shower."

"In that case," you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face against his throat, "thank you, sir."

He walks toward the refresher, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and his chest is bursting with pride. You're smiling, and laughing, and holding onto him, and it feels like a dream.

Wrecker sits you on the edge of the counter, and you wince, a soft hiss leaving your lips.

"You okay?"

"Just a little sore," you admit.

"Shit," he curses. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, no," you shake your head, your hand finding his wrist and squeezing. "It's a good sore, I promise. You were wonderful."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip. "Best I've ever had."

He laughs. "That can't be true."

"Well, it is," you tell him, and he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "I mean, I've never felt anything like it."

He smiles, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You reach up, your fingertips brushing against his cheek, and he turns, kissing the palm of your hand.

"You're not just sayin' that, are ya?" he asks.

"Why would I?"

"I dunno," he admits.

"Wrecker," you sigh, your thumb brushing across his lower lip, "it's been a long time since I've felt anything for anyone. The truth is, I've had a crush on you for months. You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and the things you did tonight...the way you made me feel, the way you treated me...I've never felt so safe. Or special.”

"It was nothin'," he says, his cheeks flushing.

"It wasn't nothing," you insist, and he knows the look in your eyes means you're not going to let it go. "You made me feel beautiful, and wanted, and cared for, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. And it's going to take a lot more than a rough fuck to get rid of me."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yes," you say, pressing a kiss to his chin.

"Okay," he nods. "So, we're gonna try this, huh?"

"Do you want to?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I do," he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I just didn't want to push."

"Well, consider this your official invitation," you tell him, your hands sliding down and squeezing his biceps. "I'm all yours."

"All mine, huh?"

"Yep."

"Good," he nods, and then he's scooping you back up and carrying you toward the shower. "Because I'm all yours, too."

"Even better," you laugh, and the sound is like music to his ears.

Wrecker kisses you again, his hands gripping your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. You smile against his lips, and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face. He's not sure how this happened. He's not sure why you picked him. But he doesn't care.

All he cares about is the feeling of your lips against his, and the sound of your laughter filling the room. All he cares about is the taste of your mouth, and the warmth of your skin, and the way his chest swells every time you look at him.

He doesn't know where this is going, or how far it will go, but he knows one thing.

He wants it. All of it. With you.

Translation: ma sareen = Ryl for "my sweet"

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Echo is coming back and is gonna be a main character is a clone-centric animated series? I’m feeling blessed.

Absolute perfection, he’s so dang cute 🥰

Tech's First Time

I LOVE these first-time fics! This one is for our beloved Tech, in an established relationship/wedding night sort of setup. I wanted to keep it as realistic as possible while also maintaining that beautiful dreamy quality of fantasy writing. And obviously this is just my own take on it! I hope you enjoy!

Tech x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.8k Content warnings beneath the cut Dividers courtesy of @vimse!!

Content: idk now to tag these, haha, but it's got kissing, touching all over, unprotected P in V, healthy communication... that's about it? ;)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You couldn’t believe all that lay before you. You’d never have fathomed that fate would be so kind as to bring you someone like Tech. Through years of friendship and a deepening affection, you’d slowly learned what it was to love, to connect across differences and deeply enjoy the shared interests and approaches. And now, after long-awaited confessions and a fully-developed relationship, you’d made a commitment to each other, a sacred vow to become one.

And now, the soothing summer breeze grazed through the windows of the secluded cabin you found yourselves in. After the local ritual, you’d celebrated with your closest friends, although you’d call them family. It was a whole new part of life that was opening up to you, and you approached it with excitement, the complete trust and intimacy allowing the trepidations to fade into the dark. A large, hand-hewn wooden bed nearly filled the main room, which was on the second story and offered lush views of the forest as well as the nearby creek and mountains. The sheets were unfathomably soft, tucked neatly beneath a comforter so fluffy that you could have sworn it was a cloud. And on the other side of them lay Tech. 

He was beautifully tanned, divinely sculpted in lithe fitness, and naked from the waist up with the rest lying in mystery beneath the light, silky sheet. His thin lips were curved in a gentle smile, head tucked into a hand propped up on an elbow. You stood sheepishly across the bed from him, in the white lingerie you’d selected – thin shoulder straps holding up a tiny dress that hugged your chest and waist. The satin fabric was shimmery and soft, almost ethereal in the flattering way it covered and complimented you. 

“I am not unaware of your physical attractiveness, especially in this sultry little ensemble, but I feel a great need to confess that the joy radiating from your face is utterly captivating me at the moment,” Tech declared, gazing at you with warmth and affection. You felt as though you might burst, and a simultaneous shiver ran across your body. Tech was someone who, once he had made up his mind about the way he felt about any particular thing or the next positive course of action, approached it with the most diligent preparation possible. He absorbed information at superhuman speed, devouring anything and everything he could to equip himself, and any potential wavering of his confidence or decisiveness was never to be seen once his mind was made up. So the thought of what awaited you this evening made your head spin. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted with a grin, pulling back the covers to crawl into the bed next to him. “I just can’t believe we’re here.”

“Mm,” Tech agreed, hand twitching where it rested on the outside of the sheets on his hip. “It is most agreeable. No, that is an understatement. There is a better adjective.” 

“Sublime!” you laughed, feeling giddy with bliss. To have been enamored with his intelligence and have also captured his heart made you feel like the luckiest creature in the galaxy. The distasteful exhale through his nostrils continued your giggles as he fixed you with a mockingly critical expression. Your shared love for words in all their forms had been the source of many a feisty conversation and inside joke. 

“We can complete our search for the appropriate diction later,” he returned with the hint of a smirk. “I believe something else is expected tonight.” His tone was unreadable, causing you to immediately feel anxious and conjure up a million questions and doubts in a split second. 

“We don’t have to do anything!” you said quickly. “You know that!”

“I am well aware, love,” Tech answered, shifting forward slightly to brush his fingers lightly along the forearm you had tucked along your front, holding the sheet against your chest. Your chest blossomed with warmth at his words. The subtle smolder in his eyes was causing an entirely different sensation. “If I have been accurately assessing our physical progress, I would posit that we are both in agreement. However, if I have surmised incorrectly, there is of course no pressure on you in any way, real or perceived.”

You swallowed, heart racing in your throat, “No… I… em… I’m really excited. I just…” You paused, relishing his gentle strokes on your arm. “Well, you know I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“I believe the concept is quite simple–”

“Not that,” you laughed, knowing he was pulling your leg with his deadpan humor that had such razor-sharp wit that it went over most people’s heads. He perpetuated others’ perceptions of him ad absurdum until it was really he who was toying with them. Their flustered explanations and increasing dysregulation brought him a moment of mirth when he was in the mood for it. It was something you’d grown to spot right away and had been the source of many nights of laughter during social situations and family gatherings.

“Well then I do not foresee any issue,” Tech answered with a smile that flitted across his face. 

“I know. It just… I can’t just flip a switch and be all sexy all of a sudden.”

“The primary objective as far as I understand it,” he began, scooting forward to bring himself an hand’s length away from you. “Is to enjoy the leisurely exploration of one another with vulnerability and intimacy. I do not expect some kind of show. I am…” he paused, eyes growing slightly more intent, “I am simply looking forward to knowing you in a new way.”

You bit your lip, a wave of tingles running through you. That wasn’t what you had expected, but nothing could have been more perfect. He moved his hand to your side, nestling it against the curve of your waist beneath the sheet. You were lost for words.

“However,” he continued, “I do understand that there is a significant shift in cognitive function that might seem daunting. I believe this is one scenario in which the bodily sensations might effectively lead the mind rather than attempting to make it comply by sheer willpower. So if you feel any apprehension, perhaps you could allow me to test that theory.” 

“For science,” you murmured, electrified at his touch as he lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing a thumb along the cheekbone before cupping his fingers along your jaw and neck. He shifted forward, dropping his lips to yours in a warm, soft, chaste kiss. You’d gotten pretty worked up together before, many times, but you had a habit of overthinking things, and something about the long-awaited anticipation was making you needlessly concerned. It did begin to melt immediately as Tech tilted his head, deepening the kiss with firm lips and pulling you against his chest. 

He was so warm, so strong, and you could feel the passion beginning to build. Your own arm wrapped around him, fingers pressing into the small of his back as you slid your tongue along his. You’d never get enough of the way he tasted, the way his increasingly strong exhales would tickle, the occasional jab of a rim of his goggles before he took them off. Your mouth met his again, tongues caressing before you pulled away with a gentle suckle of his lower lip. The tiny shudder that always earned from him gave you an endless source of glee, and you smiled against him as he continued to kiss you. 

His hand slid down the side of your neck, tracing the edge of your collarbone before dropping to your waist again, pulling you ever closer. You buried your fingers in his hair, splaying them between goggle straps and tufts of his brown locks, and felt your stomach flip as his kisses got messier and hungrier. The backs of his fingers grazed across a breast, teasing the already-stiff nipple thinly sheathed by the silky fabric, and you inhaled sharply. They continued down, across your stomach, barely skipping over your mound to finish up the side of your thigh. He was so intentional, so patient and strategic, that he always had you chomping at the bit right away. It wasn’t fair, as he seemed to maintain such composure with a perfect amount of matching desire. 

“Your lips are so soft,” he said quietly, pulling back slightly to regard you and to brush the hair back from your face. “The scent and taste of you is intoxicating to me.” He gently invited you to lie flat on your back, tracing idle fingers from your chin to your chest, right down the middle of your stomach and along the other thigh. “The response of your body to my touch creates an immense intimacy between us,” he continued, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“Geez, Tech,” you breathed, aflame with hunger already. He exhaled a quiet chuckle, slipping a single finger beneath the strap over one of your shoulders. Following it down the side of your arm, he gave it one last tug and your breast spilled out into his gentle hand. Repeating the process on the other side after a teasing caress, your chest rose and fell with excited breaths as the cool night air kissed your bare skin. He traced along the underside of a breast, finishing with a calculated squeeze of the nipple that sent a jolt of energy right to your core. 

When he leaned over to kiss your chest, you tipped your chin up in complete bliss, catching hints of whispered affection as his lips moved. One hand massaged a breast as he placed his mouth tentatively over the other, leaving it with a warm, tingly kiss before pulling away. You shifted your weight, pressing the side of your thigh against his hardening length, the feel of which was sending waves of nervous excitement over you. The steady increase of your responsiveness gave Tech a heady feeling of ardent warmth, and he lifted his head to gaze at you again. You couldn’t help but smile, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a shiver that ran across your body as he caressed a cheek once again. 

“I think you were right,” you whispered, eyes sparkling with affection as you sat up slightly to prop yourself up on an elbow. You didn’t even need to refer to what specifically – his mouth was already curving in a slightly smug grin. 

“I am seldom wrong,” he returned, and you giggled in pure delight, cupping his face and pulling him to you again. Your lips met his, a little more sloppily this time, and your fingers ran through his brown hair, catching on the strap of his goggles. With an apprehensive focus on his response, you carefully slipped the golden lenses off of his face, reveling in his beautiful vulnerability as you set them off to the side. 

“You are everything I ever could have dreamed of,” you said quietly, blushing slightly at the cheesiness of your words as you stroked a hand along the side of his face. His eyes were closed, cheeks gently curved in contentment, and he let out a breath. 

“Statistically, I find that highly unlikely,” he murmured, earning another chuckle from you. He slowly opened his luminous amber eyes, finding your gaze and sending another wave of tingles down your spine. 

“Statistics be damned,” you answered, leaning into him suddenly for more of those soft, sensual kisses that made you dizzy and desirous all at once. A shift of your limbs brought your bodies together, pressed closely from head to toe, and a breathy sigh escaped your lips. He was lying on his side as well, and you draped a leg over his, immediately noting the exhilarating sensation of his cock between your legs. The silky underwear was the only thing between you, and the cool smoothness enhanced the feeling. 

Now it was your turn to let your hands roam, relishing the curve of his back, the plumpness of his butt, and the hair on his thigh as you stroked as far as you could reach before coming back up slowly. He was kissing you still, tilting his head and opening his mouth to glide his tongue against yours and experiment with careful nips with his teeth. As you drew your hand back upward, you traced the front of his stomach, feeling him tense, and brought your palm to a rest on his chest, right above his racing heart. 

You relaxed onto your back again, immediately followed by him leaning over you, slipping his hand beneath your silky top as his mouth wandered from yours to your ear and down the side of your neck. Heavy kisses were punctuated by more suggestive licks and short drags of his teeth against your skin that made goosebumps erupt in their trail, and he pulled your shirt up and over your head, freeing you from it entirely. His hand was warm on your stomach, fingers splayed as he slid it back up to a breast, cupping it more firmly now. The quiet rumble from him at the heady sensation made you arch your back into his touch, and you slipped your arm beneath him to wrap it around his back, raking your fingernails down his spine. 

His breaths were growing heavier, tickling your collarbone as he nuzzled close against you, gliding his hand down your stomach again and grazing your mound over the satin underwear. It was tantalizing, the way he caressed a thigh and then stroked a single finger along the edge of the panties, just barely slipping beneath them to tease the skin beneath. He lifted his face from your neck and leaned it against your own for a moment as his touch roved up the middle of your underwear, his own arousal growing at the unmistakable wetness he was met with as you subtly bucked your hips toward him. 

You felt dizzy with lust as he slid his hand under the silky waistband for a feather-light trace of your folds. You gasped at the heat and electricity that bloomed between your legs, pressing your face against his and sharing the same air, losing yourself in the scent of his breath and the gentle, blissful sensation of his touch. He stroked you again, more firmly this time, with a finger sinking a little deeper as he caressed your entrance from bottom to top, and when he found your clit, lingering for a second with a leisurely circling motion, you inhaled sharply, reaching down with your own hand between the two of you and brushing the backs of your fingers against his erection. 

You were tentative and a little clumsy, wrapping your fingers around his length and softly running them from base to tip. He shuddered again, and you turned your face to meet his, losing yourself in his kisses as the two of you stroked one another. You were a wet mess of desire between your legs, and his own excitement was evident as you ran your hand over his tip, gathering the leaking arousal and gliding it back down across his silky skin. You were both breathing hard now, kissing fervently as though it were the anchor that held you together as you explored one another, and finally, he could hold back no longer. 

He pulled back, rearranging himself to climb on top of you, settling himself between your legs with his strong thighs pressed against them. His arms were on either side of your head, holding him up just enough to avoid crushing you but allowing his entire body to fit against yours. You both radiated heat and desire, and you turned your head to kiss his forearm, gripping his wrist with your hand as he dipped his head to kiss your breasts again. You were aching between your legs, all kinds of bold invitations floating through your mind but finding yourself too shy to vocalize any one of them out loud. But the attunement between the two of you was amazing, and the body language was unmistakable as you writhed against one another, hands and lips hungrily appreciating every inch they could reach. 

When he took a nipple into his mouth again, tingles radiated everywhere, and as he released it with a tiny smack of the lips, he tilted his hips to press his cock against your entrance. You couldn’t hold back the needy sigh, and when he gently rested his forehead against yours, you could feel his heart beating against your own as your chests came together. Carefully, precariously, he pressed himself against you, and his head sank into your folds with a hot smoothness that had you seeing fireworks. He paused, lifting his face a tiny bit to gauge your reaction, but you buried your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer in unspoken encouragement. 

He continued, lowering inch by inch and biting back a quiet groan as you stretched around him. When his hips met your own, you were reeling from the incredible sensation of his cock filling you perfectly, sinking in so deep and staying still as you adjusted to it all. You slipped your legs around his own, reveling in the way you were completely connected, entwined with one another in blissful completion, and you tipped your chin forward to kiss him on the lips. 

“Please stop or adjust at any point,” Tech whispered, his voice husky with self-restraint. He, too, was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and stimulation, fighting back the urge to analyze and process it all. But he could feel his instincts fighting just as hard, washing over him with a primal hunger and ardent desire. You nodded against his cheek, sucking in a cool breath of air as he began to move slowly. The way his cock dragged against your walls was euphoric, and he pulled almost all the way out, pausing for a moment before carefully gliding back in. 

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed, unable to put any of it into words. You caressed the back of his head, his neck, the curve of his shoulder, and gripped his muscular thigh and buttcheek. It was impossible to get enough of him, and as he painstakingly moved in and out of you, allowing you to grow accustomed to the way you fit together, you found yourself feeling disproportionately feral in your desire for him to express himself more decisively. Your strokes grew heavier, and your writhing against him beckoned him to meet your passion with more of his own. 

He nestled one hand against the back of your neck, cupping the base of your skull with tender affection and a touch of firmness as he began to thrust more quickly. He could feel his climax flying at him at breakneck speed, simultaneously panicking at the lack of time to do all the things he’d read about in preparation. Your complete surrender to his touch and the way you gasped and sighed as though he were fulfilling your every fantasy was absolutely intoxicating to him, making him feel as though he were hurtling through hyperspace without a ship. He slowed his movement, concerned to be done too quickly and without you enjoying an orgasm of your own, and you opened your eyes in slight confusion, tilting your head in silent query. 

“I believe I am too close,” he confessed, and you smiled, overwhelmed with affection. 

“Don’t stop,” you invited. “We’ve got plenty of time for… everything else…” You knew from experience that he had no trouble whatsoever getting you off with his fingers alone, and right now the anticipation of him coming inside of you was too great to resist. 

“But you–”

“Later,” you insisted, pulling him closer with your legs wrapped around his own. “I want you… now…” you admitted, sheepishness significantly muted by the animalistic craving you felt. It seemed to goad him into action, soothing his concerns and allowing them to take a back seat, and you reveled in his tensing muscles as he began to move again. A low groan escaped as he sank into you deeply, bottoming out with an exhilarating grind of his pelvis against yours. You sank your fingers into the flesh on his hip, gripping his hair with your other hand, and curved your back to angle yourself to meet his thrusts. Incoherent whimpers of affirmation fell from your lips as he picked up speed, his lithe body wrapped around yours as his cock drove into you again and again. A light sheen of sweat was coating him now, and the heavy scent of passion on top of all the other sensations was making you deliriously happy. 

You kissed him deeply for a second before he broke away for air, leaning the side of his face against yours as he thrust hard and fast. There were a few sudden pangs of pain here and there as he moved, causing you to shift your hips in clueless adjustment, but his increasing sense of reckless abandon was so insanely hot that you soon forgot all about it, losing yourself in him completely as he released his strictly-maintained control over mind and body. When his climax crashed over him with powerful force, his ragged breaths and erratic motion made your heart sing, and your own sounds of satisfaction and encouragement joined with his. 

He took a long time to slow down, breathing hard and continuing to press himself into you again and again, reveling in the mind-blowing delight of your silky walls against his cock. His hot release only enhanced the sensations, and as he finally came to a halt, resting against you in utter bliss, you both lay in rapturous disbelief, completely connected in soul and body. You could feel the residual throbs inside of you as you caressed the back of his head with so much love you thought your heart would burst. His disarmed vulnerability and panting breath filled you with joy, and you gently slid one leg along his, vibrating from head to toe with the exhilaration of him lying against you. 

When he finally took a deep breath and pulled out slowly, you couldn’t help but shudder. You felt so fulfilled, so incomprehensibly whole, and you were entirely unbothered by the ticklish leak of his release between your legs as the two of you snuggled up together. The scent of sweat and musk and sex was heavy in the air, and you felt aglow with pleasure even without an orgasm of your own. It was all just… so much… and you wanted to commit every single second and detail to memory. As he nuzzled into the side of your face, radiating blissful adoration, you took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers and nestling both hands between you where they lay against each of your racing hearts.

“I love you,” you whispered, giddy with joy. 

“And I you,” Tech answered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

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hmmm,, may have a problem

CLONE CRUSHES: TORRENT COMPANY

PAIRING \ Torrent Company x GN!Reader (Rex, Fives, Echo, Kix, Hardcase, Jesse, Tup) SYNOPSIS \ How the troopers of Torrent Company acts when they have a crush on you. WARNING(S) \ None AUTHOR'S NOTE \ This took me an insanely long time to finish, but here we are! Yes, the Mon Gala is a reference to the Met Gala. I am inordinately proud of it.

CAPTAIN REX

Rex is awkward—awkward around you when he realizes how strong his feelings are and awkward doing anything about it. He does more fumbling than flirting in the beginning, stuck in his head and panicking about it, but he gets more comfortable over time.

Give him a break, he’s doing his best.

Despite being standoffish in his affections, Rex is a gentleman and he’ll prove it to you in a million little actions. When you’re commuting through Coruscant, he’ll always walk on the side of you closest to traffic. If there aren’t enough seats of everyone at a group gathering, he would immediately get up and give you his. The second that you admit to being cold, he’s giving you some of his spare blacks.

Speaking of letting you borrow his clothes… seeing you wearing them for the first time almost breaks his brain. He just stands there and stares at you, eyes wide and head buzzing. All he can think about is how karking gorgeous you are, and how he can get you to replace your entire wardrobe with his stuff.

Later, he tells you that you can “just keep it”, and that he has plenty of replacements. He is not subtle at all, and thus deserves all the shit he’s going to get for it.

Rex doesn’t often show up to plans that aren’t mission-critical, not unless a few members of Torrent Company drag him along. Or, if he knows that you’re going to be there.

He could be at the Mon Gala, with all the most famous and wealthy beings on Coruscant, and he’ll literally just show up and talk to you the entire time. If he can’t, if he’s trapped in a conversation that’s actually important or you’re pulled away, he’ll watch from a distance until he can make his way back.

Rex knows his priorities. With a little luck, he might just become as important to you as you are to him.

ARC TROOPER ECHO

Echo’s feelings are pretty contained, much like the trooper himself, but the way he looks at you gives it all away.

You can be doing anything and he’ll be staring at you with literal heart eyes, but he can’t help it. You’re cute. He’ll watch you go about your life, perfectly intent until the warmth in his chest spills over and forces his gaze away to sort through his thoughts.

He’s on the other side of the damn room and you’ve somehow made him go all shy.

Echo’s observant—kind of has to be, as an ARC trooper—and he’ll catalog every habit of yours down to the littlest detail. A part of him craves the intimacy of knowing everything about you, something that fuels his quiet delight at being able to suss out what you’re thinking when others can’t. 

More often than not, his insight into you catches you off guard. Convincing others that you aren’t scared out of your mind is practically a job requirement, but somehow, you can never fool Echo. Not even your bravest face can convince him that you don’t need to lean on him, tell him your frustrations, or hold hands under the table.

Usually, Echo keeps to himself, a little closed off to anyone but his closest vode. But the minute you walk into the room, his mood immediately brightens. He’s quicker to smile and laugh; it’s like all his stress melts away, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of Torrent Company.

Hardcase has sneakily captured more than a few clips of you two, edited over with so many pink filters and glitter hearts that you’re barely recognizable, and circulated them among the vode.

It doesn’t matter if Echo tries to scour them from the holonet, they become so well-known that clones from entirely different battalions will ask him about his cyare.

He's eternally grateful for the Prime’s dark complexion—you don’t even have to lift a finger to get under his skin. You fluster him too easily. He’s helpless but to forgive you, though, when you smile at him the way you do.

ARC TROOPER FIVES

Fives could care less whether other people are laughing at him or with him—he knows he’s hilarious, and that’s enough to satisfy his ego. The only person who makes him uncharacteristically self-conscious is, well, you.

Yes, Echo has (and will) tease him endlessly for this.

Whenever he’s around you, he’d feel an undeniable urge to do one thing: make you laugh. He cracks a joke and immediately peeks over to gauge your reaction. If he succeeds in making you chuckle, snort, or even just breathe a little harder out of your nose, he lights up. You’re gorgeous when you laugh, even more so when it’s because of him. He can’t help but double down on the bit until you’re too weak to breathe.

Complaining about your sides hurting only prompts him to apologize for “being too funny for you to handle”.

Fives is an incorrigible flirt on a good day, but when he’s around you it becomes 1000% worse. He’s guilty of every cheesy move in the playbook—pretending to yawn and stretch so that he can put his arm around your shoulders, asking you to “hold something” and taking your offered hand in his, or even faux-demanding that you kiss his injuries better. 

He means everything he says, but he’s very careful to make his overtures playful. Fives doesn’t want to scare you away if you don’t feel the same.

Being near to you puts him at ease, soothes an itch he didn’t even realize he had before you both met. He unconsciously seeks out contact with you all the time, pressing his knee to your under the table, bumping shoulders, playing with the fabric of your sleeves. Small things.

So, he’s touchy, and about half of the time he doesn’t even realize it. Why should he, when he’s always shared contact freely with his vode? 

Maybe he makes just one too many comments, gets a little too comfortable in your personal space, gives in to his desire to see you flustered—but when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, he’s toast. Smile a bit, touch him, and Fives goes from a cocky, formidable ARC trooper to a stammering cadet.

He’s kind of okay with his brain melting, though, because you’re so pleased with yourself. And although he’s hot-faced and grinning like an idiot, he’s your idiot.

LIEUTENANT JESSE

Much like Fives, Jesse is a joker—one of his favorite activities is making fun of you, and in a way that implies you’re the one who’s crushing instead of him. It’s merciless, especially when the rest of Torrent company catch on to the bit. Getting flustered only makes it worse, easier for him to tease you about “getting nervous around him”.

Watch what you say when he’s around, because anything that could be construed as innuendo will be. Ask an innocent question about if clone armor is hot to wear, and watch Jesse’s smirk grow as he says: “I think I should be asking you that, sugar.”

It’s kind of a way for him to test you, figure out how the idea of liking him affects you.

His vode discover his true feelings when he actually shares his food with you, sometimes without you even having to ask. It’s kind of mindboggling to see the same guy who threatened Kix for stealing his rations readily let you eat from his plate.

He’d be so happy if you shared your food with him, too. Even more so if you bring him things that aren’t rations. The closest he’s ever come to straight-up confessing his love for you is when you got a box of Mandalorian uj cake for him because he’d never tried it.

However, playful, joking Jesse can become a no-nonsense bodyguard at the drop of a hat. He has a protective streak a mile long, something that drives him to shield his brothers from allies and enemies alike, and more recently, you. 

Jesse is intimidating as haran, built like a tank and covered with tattoos, and it’s made so much worse when someone’s targeting you. He’s not afraid to get in people’s faces about it, either, over two hundred pounds of ARC fueled by rage and spite. A little “chat” is all they need to get them to apologize to you—though, in Jesse’s expert opinion, they don’t deserve your forgiveness.

All of his bravado melts when you quietly thank him for defending you. That’s his job, sugar, and don’t you forget it.

CLONE MEDIC KIX

Between carrying out his duty to the Republic and ensuring his idiot vode don’t keel over and die, Kix neither has the time nor the energy to be throwing himself at his crush. Even without his job running him ragged, he wouldn’t be the type—no matter how intense his feelings are.

Rather, Kix courts you. From a distance.

While Kix may not have much in terms of credits, he’ll do everything in his power to make your life a little easier; By virtue of his authority and near-legendary status amongst the troops, he has a lot of influence on his side. And if that doesn’t work, well… there’s many reasons why you don’t piss off a medic.

Little acts of service are it for him. Before you even get to the refractory, he’s set aside your favorite “flavor” of ration bar to ensure they don’t run out. If you complain about being tired, you’ll find an extra cup of caff—or a sedative—sitting innocently on your desk. 

Struggling with the mountain of stuff you’re carrying? Kix is hauling whatever items are in reach into his arms before you even ask for help. About to miss the turbolift? He’ll hold the door for you and glare at his vode if they complain too much.

Need a hand to hold during a procedure? Don’t worry honey, he’s got you.

Kix loves that you treat his time with respect, but sometimes getting you all to himself is a high-stakes negotiation. You’ll bicker back and forth, him insisting that no, you’re not intruding on him or his brothers, and you trying to reassure him that he isn’t obligated to hang out with you if he’s too tired or doesn’t want to be around natborns. He knows he isn’t, but you’re oblivious to how much he wants to.

Kix would get so slick about stealing you away. When he has the opportunity, he’ll casually strike up a conversation about field medicine and- oh, you don’t remember that training session? Well, he has a blank space on his schedule today and he’s more than happy to slot you in for a little extra help.

He’d be (quietly) over the moon if you decided to slip into his office and chat with him while he tears through paperwork or runs labs. While he fantasizes about hopes to take you out on a proper date someday, he’s content to bottle up your laughter as he complains about di’kute vode, hoarding the memory for the darkest moments of the war.

CLONE TROOPER HARDCASE

Congratulations! With Hardcase crushing on you, you’ve snagged a two-in-one deal: A personal hype man and an overexcited puppy.

In Hardcase’s eyes you’re superior at everything you do, period. He insists that you’re the best at your job any chance he gets, even going so far as to volunteer your name whenever some mission needs your kind of expertise—annoying, but it’s hard to stay mad at him for long.

Your competence is really attractive to him, and sometimes he forgets you’re not together and lets a few comments slip. Hardcase doesn’t even realize what he’s said after the fact, oblivious to the fact that your face feels like it’s been dipped in lava when he admires “how kriffing good you are at that” and how “hot” it is.

He praises you so much for doing the most mundane things, it’s like a compulsion for him. You could be helping tape him up after a battle and he’s making little observations about how perfect your wrapping is and how gentle you are with him.

Kix overhears this and tells him that he’d better go to you for wound dressing than the medbay, if you’re so much better at it. He just might, if that means he could get you to touch him again.

Hardcase loves your attention, and occasionally that translates into him being intentionally annoying. He’ll pop up all the time when he’s off duty, making himself at home in your office or at your side and bothering you to your wit’s end. He’ll hide your stylus and make you chase him around to get it, or he’ll call you acting as if he has something important to tell you and then manage to keep you on the line for an hour.

The second it seems like you’re getting upset at him, however, he cuts the crap immediately. If you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun, and he wants to make that abundantly clear to you in case… just in case it turns out you’re interested in him the same way he’s interested in you.

CLONE TROOPER TUP

Tup might not be as confident as Kix, or as widely renowned as Rex, or as charismatic as Fives and Echo… and that knowledge can weigh heavily on him. Thinking that, compared to his brothers, he doesn’t have much to offer you is part of why he hesitates to act on his feelings.

Take these thoughts with a mountain of salt—Tup excels at something else, and that’s being an absolute sweetheart. His patience is near-infinite when it comes to you. He’s always happy to explain something (however many times you need) and is the first to lend you a hand if you’re struggling.

Just don’t read too much into his full-body flinches whenever your fingers brush his, the way his words stumble when you get too close.

Being a standard, rank-and-file trooper makes it all the more difficult for him to even imagine catching your eye, but ironically, his status gives him unique opportunities. Doing grunt work around the ship means that you often cross paths, affording him the chance to say hello or strike up a passing conversation. If he’s lucky, he gets the chance to be beside you throughout his shift.

It’s useless to try and thank him for any of his help, he’ll just duck his head and insist that he’s more than happy to give you a hand. Your praise, however, has him sporting a smug little grin for the rest of the day,

The man melts under your hands like butter. You can convince him to do anything if you ask nicely enough, and on more than one occasion he’s left. He regrets it only when you’re half in his lap and doodling on his bare arm, too focused to notice his increasingly flustered demeanor even as you scold him for fidgeting. 

Privately, you worry that people are going to use Tup as a doormat—but if you mention it to the rest of Torrent, their hysterical laughter will shut you up fast. 

Don’t blame them too much, though. The last time Fives mimicked a whip cracking sound within Tup’s hearing range, he was applying bacta for weeks.

Random ass doodle of a Tech who just took a shower. Did he shower with the googles on? Well, I don't know, maybe.