Summary: You and Tech get a little frisky at the dinner table.
Pairing: Tech x Reader
Reader Description: Reader is female, and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her physical appearance.
Word count: 1.7k
Tags: Christmas, Festive fingering, Handjobs, Orgasm denial, Semi-public sex, Established relationship.
Notes: Merry Christmas!! I wanted to write a little something, especially since I haven't written in so long. I've been SO busy with work, and I miss writing so much ;-; here's a drabble to make up for things<3
You asked for this.
Really, you did.
What else did you expect? That Tech would sit by innocently whilst you spend all day riling him up? That he'd let you get away with your sweet and innocent morning wake-up call? That he wouldn't find a way to at least one-you-up?
This is Tech, after all.
Maybe the festivity has gone straight to your brain (and your crotch,) but you woke Tech up by grinding against him, a common wake-up call for when you two are spooning. Tech, of course, fluttered his lashes open and instantly began grinding back, only for a disappointed whimper to leave his lips as you eventually moved away, followed by a mindless, "I need to get up and shower!"
Tech attempted to follow you into the restroom, but wanting to rile him up even more, you denied him access and told himself to get ready. Wrecker could be heard down the hall screaming for everyone to wake up, and you've learnt from experience that Wrecker is not a patient man.
Tech, however, is.
Opening presents was another opportunity to irritate him. Whilst Tech isn't one for public displays of affection, he doesn't mind the occasional cuddle, especially on days like this. After passing Tech the present you'd gifted him, you returned to your snuggling position, and whispered, "you'll receive the rest of your gifts later," when the focus moved on to somebody else, covering your tracks.
"I know what you're doing," Tech whispered back, his fingertips drumming against your thighs as he shifts sightly, attempting to maintain his ever-growing erection. "And you won't get away with it. Mark my words, darling. Two can play at this game."
"Can they?" you sweetly asked, your words lined with a hint of dominance.
"You'll just have to wait and see."
Dinner soon rolls around, and Tech is one of the last to sit at the table. He always insists on helping Crosshair with the cooking, despite the sniper's protests. Well, if he won't let Tech cook, then he'll at least help him serve.
Everybody has their meals, and it doesn't take long for the Batch to dig in, yourself included. You're so engulfed in eating that you forget about your game, and thankfully, Tech also does. In hindsight, that's worked in your favour, as you're certain either of you would have choked on your food if you felt the other brush against them.
However, once dinner is finished, and you're all lounging around the table chatting and drinking, it's time for the game to continue.
You take the lead by placing your hand on Tech's thigh. It's a minor gesture, something that couples often do when they're relaxing together, but seeing as you're concealed under the table, you can kick things up a notch.
You start by caressing Tech's thigh, massaging his muscles, toned through years of hard work and manual labour. He may come across as a generic and petit nerd, but underneath that armour is an entirely different man, and you're thankful that you've seen every inch of him.
Tech, like the trooper that he is, remains fixated on the conversation being passed around the table, and not once does he side-eye you with a warning look, not until you slip your hand further up his thigh.
The second your hand comes into contact with his clothed, semi-hard cock, Tech's hand instantly moves to cup your own crotch. His eyes finally meet yours, and he's silently asking, "do you really want to play this game?"
You respond, "yes," by giving his cock a firm squeeze. With that comes another caress on your crotch, all whilst Tech keeps his eyes and mind fixated on the conversation. To the others, you look like a clingy couple, bunched up together at the dinner table. One of them will surely come to realise what's going on, and unfortunately, you might be the person to give it away.
You see, Tech is a calculated man. He's no stranger to trial and error, and with practise, comes precision and perfection. Tech knows what you like, what makes you stir, what leaves you a whimpering and whining mess. If you want to do that at the dinner table, fine, Tech will play your little game, but he'll always be the one who wins.
Unfortunately, you come to realise this the second Tech pops the fastening on your pants open, and slides his hand beneath your underwear.
Calloused, gloveless fingertips massage their way through your slick folds, introducing themselves, back and forth, until Tech settles on softly stirring your clit. That touch alone always leaves you breathing heavily whilst you press your thighs together, and you do your best to maintain your calm demeanour.
How the kriff did Tech manage to unfasten your pants single-handedly? You attempt to copy him, fiddling about with his fastening, and you almost face-plant your leftover dinner in frustration. Tech bites back a laugh as his spare hand helps you unfasten his pants, and finally, you're able to begin jerking his thick cock beneath the dinner table.
"Actually," Tech chimes in to the conversation. "Twi'lek festive traditions are far different from our own, you see-" Tech begins rambling on, all whilst you're jerking his cock, and he's now slowly slipping a finger into your entrance, whilst another continues circling your clit.
You're fine. You're totally fine, right?
Wrong. Oh-so-wrong, especially when another finger joins the one already inside you, and Tech curls them in such a way that it quite literally takes your breath away.
"Are you alright, dear?" Tech asks as you cough in an attempt to cover up the soft moan that almost slips from your lips.
"I'm fine," you firmly nod. As you talk, you tighten your grip around Tech's cock, but he refuses to react. It seems that no matter what you do to him, he won't cave, not when there's an unknowing audience present. Kriff, you could get under the table and wrap your pretty lips around his length, and he'll still remain calm.
"Are you certain? May I suggest a lie down?" Tech suggests. As your eyes lock onto his, you notice the playful maliciousness woven into them. After all, you did ask for this, and now you're suffering the effects of it.
"Maybe later," you brush him off. "You were saying?"
"If you say so," Tech shrugs. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before returning to the conversation; the second he's fixated on the others, his fingers begin moving again, unfazed by the awkward sitting position.
Maker. This man has you seeing stars, bold and colourful stars... or are those red flags? Somebody is going to catch on sooner or later. However, as long as Wrecker continues cracking Christmas jokes at the top of his lungs, then the others won't hear the questionable squelching sounds coming from beneath the dinner table.
Well, those sounds can be covered up. Your soft whimpers and mewls, however, cannot. Or they cannot if you continue making them.
How the kriff are you so close? Really, your orgasm is sitting on a very unstable wall, and with one push, you'll come crashing down. Your grip tightens even more around Tech's cock as you continue mindlessly jerking him, and whilst the others are conversing, Tech whispers to you.
"Are you certain you're alright? We can... take this elsewhere," he suggests.
"I'm going to cum," you blurt back. Barely any volume leaves your lips, but Tech has learnt when you're close, and he's no stranger to lip-reading.
Attempting to cover up what's really going on, Tech slips his hand from your soaked folds, and removes your fist from his cock. He's quick to fasten his pants up, and once he's decent, he brings his dry hand up to press against your forehead. "You're burning up," Tech announces, catching the attention from the others. "Come on, dear, let's go and have a lie down."
You've never fastened your pants so quickly in your life, and whilst doing so, you nod in agreement with Tech, acting as ill as you possibly can. The others agree that you don't seem your usual self, and inform you that they'll hold off the party games until later, wanting you to be present for them.
"I'll have a nap, I'm sure that'll help," you sigh as you begin pushing yourself up from your seat, Tech following suit.
You both barely make it down the hall before Hunter calls out after you, specially for Tech.
"Go ahead, I'll be right behind you," Tech says with a nod, and you leave the pair to it. Tech being held behind gives you the perfect opportunity to strip off in your room, ready to welcome your partner to bed whilst wearing a festive pair of lingerie. The outfit is somewhat tacky, but it'll be on the floor within the next ten minutes.
Hunter, after ensuring that you're gone, instantly furrows his brows as he asks, "what was that?!"
"What was what?" Tech bats his lashes.
"You know precisely what I'm on about, Tech," Hunter curses, keeping his voice low through gritted teeth.
Tech's glasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he looks down at his Sergeant, quite literally. He pushes them back into place as he replies, "you are mistaken, I do not-"
"-Tech, come on!" Hunter grumbles, his shoulders sulking, before rising again as Hunter rests his hands on his hips. "At the dinner table, really? Right in front of my Christmas dinner?"
Tech is forced to bite the tip of his tongue, holding back his laughter. The situation is quite comical, really, something you'd see in one of those holopornos. However, maybe Hunter is right. Maybe you two shouldn't be getting festive at the dinner table.
"It won't happen again," Tech blankly replies, knowing that there's no point arguing over this. Really, Tech is in the wrong, but he wouldn't be surprised if Hunter caught himself in the same scenario with his partner.
"Let's hope not," Hunter grumbles back. He silently nods in the direction of yours and Tech's bedroom, dismissing the taller man. With that, Tech leaves Hunter there, heading to your quarters...
...and the surprise that awaits him.
Summary: You and Crosshair have been flirting for what feels like an eternity, yet, things have never gone past there. During a night out at 79's, a comfortable amount of alcohol begins flowing through your veins, giving you that final push to bridge the gap between you two.
Pairing: Crosshair x Reader
Reader Description: Reader is female, and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her physical appearance, minus mentioning that she is wearing a revealing dress, heels, and carries a bag.
Word count: 9.4k
Tags: Slow burn, Mutual pining, Flirting, First kiss, First time, Grinding, Dirty dancing, Public sex, Fingering, Vaginal sex, Mirror sex, Drinking, Bathroom sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Gags, Dirty talk, Degrading, Choking, Aftercare.
Notes: Okay. Wow. So. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for well over 6 months. Please excuse all typos/grammar mistakes, its far too long to fix lol. Also, I know I go on about how much I love Tech, but Crosshair was my first love. I wanted to write something BIG for him, and, well, this is the fic<3
Another successful mission, a strappy dress that reveals more than enough for curious pairs of eyes, and a line of shots waiting for you at Clone Bar 79's.
You're spoilt, honestly. You deserve it, really, trailing after this reckless bunch and patching them up the second they hit the floor, if that, on the odd occasion that you aren't there to physically catch them. Yes, you're not as strong as you look, but strong enough to prevent your stomach from turning as you push through the worst of injuries; cut and scrapes, broken bones, even blood and guts. It's haunting, gruesome, but you've been trained over many years on Kamino to become somewhat immune to the sights.
And that's exactly why you deserve these shots. You truly do, carrying your team through another successful victory, patching them up and sending them back out onto the battlefield. It's a somewhat haunting job, with the knowledge that they never may return to you, but this is Clone Force 99 that we're talking about, better known as 'The Bad Batch,' and you understand why.
They're individually unique, and that doesn't boil down to their mutations. Over the months that you've served alongside them as their personal medic, you've seen a variety of sides from each one of them. Their stereotype does hit the nail right on the head, but there are layers to each of them, boiling down to cores that they often don't show - personal and private traits that struggle to surface through anxiety and unweary judgements.
However, the Bad Batch - your Bad Batch - knows by now that you're not one to judge, especially when they're bawling their eyes out in your lap, tossing and turning as you bundle up their worst wounds, never passing a comment on how 'weak' each individual may seem.
And that's exactly why they like you. You fit in, despite not being a clone, specifically a 'reg' that some of them despise. You're an individual, a quirky soul who doesn't fit in elsewhere, finding comfort and warmth in the mutated bunch. They always greet you with open arms, or they did at first - they know through unspoken agreements that you're their medic, theirs alone, and they're your band of... well, a mishmash of clashing personalities and game plans, but always welcome to the grounded woman who knows what's best for them, both personally, and medically.
Anyway, back to the point.
There's a line of shots waiting for you, your favourite kind, paid by your boisterous bunch. The posse find their way to a comfortable booth, bringing over your shots and a drink to wash the taste down, and Tech is kind enough to text you to inform you exactly where they are within the club, knowing that you can be anxious walking in on your own.
You insisted on arriving a little later, wanting to spend some time dolling yourself up, devouring the rare occasion to really pinpoint your best features through lavish makeup and a comfortably fitting dress. It hugs at your skin, recently washed hair trailing over it, complimented by an array of accessories and a flash pair of heels. This attire is too much for a simple clone bar, but you're no clone, and you enjoy watching the sea of Jango Fett's turn their heads in awe as you enter the bar.
You're unsurprised that your Bad Batch didn't bat an eye, at first, fixated on the arm wresting match between Hunter and Crosshair - two strong members of the team, both with their own sensitive flaws, not that the rest don't have theirs.
Tech offers you his hand, shuffling slightly to free up a space between himself and Hunter, his glasses fogging up nervously as you settle between them. "I'm sure you don't need us to tell you how beautiful you look," Tech comments as you take your seat, smiling at the man before eyeing up your drinks.
"Your compliments are always appreciated, Tech," you reply with a smile. "As are these drinks, that you've clearly brought for me."
"Ah, we just had to!" Wrecker comments with a sigh, leaning back against the booth with an arm stretched out, his tight shirt attempting to fit his frame.
You're not the only one dressed up for tonight. Your boys have surprisingly put the effort in, probably wanting to accompany your looks, with fitted shirts that hug at their figures, followed by smart dress pants and shoes. It's comforting, having your Batch dolled up beside you - five clones and one woman, dressed up in their own unique way, ready to become a bunch of confident drunks as the night goes on.
"And how many have you all had?" you question, wondering how far you are behind. You didn't take that long to get ready, did you? Echo had almost broken into your room earlier in an attempt to free you from hyperfixating on your 'impurities,' threatening to drag you out with half a face of makeup on and a towel still wrapped around your hair.
"Enough to the point that you need to catch up," Hunter replies, gesturing to your line of shots. "Go on. We've been waiting for this."
"For what?" you question with a quirked brow.
The Sarge chuckles softly before replying, "we've been waiting to take care of you the way you take care of us, only through alcohol, rather than cut and bruises."
"I'd much rather it be alcohol," you agree with a comforting sigh. "Alright, but all of you are responsible for me tonight, and be warned, I'm a mess when I'm drunk."
The Batch looks at each other with smug expressions, as if they can handle a simple soul like yourself. Little do they know that after those shots, you'll turn into a fumbling mess, struggling to keep yourself upright, your words slurring as you attempt to order one of many drinks to wash the foul taste down.
And that's where you are right now.
Echo has a comfortable grip around your waist, holding you steadily, and keeping your focus on himself, as Tech catches the bartenders' attention to order another glass of water. Really, what did they expect? Five shots, one brought from each of them, chugged within seconds and now pumping throughout your bloodstream.
You find support in the curve of Echo's neck, propping your head there and watching through half-lidded eyes as Tech finally manages to begin his mission of getting you some water. "Are you alright, Sweets?" you overhear Echo ask, despite the heavy music drumming through your veins, trailing up your back and bouncing around your skull.
Usually, you enjoy this type of music, but not when you're ready to snuggle the rim of a toilet as you heave into it, but thankfully, you're far from that sickly feeling. If anything, the alcohol hasn't woven its way into your vibe yet; it hasn't complimented your attitude or appearance, it hasn't enhanced specific features, nor has given you that extra confident boost, one that you often end up regretting.
"Sweets?" Echo calls out your nickname again, an abbreviation for sweetheart, considering you're the heart of this broody bunch.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine, Echo. Just vibing, that's all," you slur your reply, and Echo laughs as he feels you grip tighter around his waist, supporting your tilting weight even more.
Tech appears with that glass of water, just in time, and weaves a straw between your lips. You begin sucking up the chilled refreshment without an order, not that you follow orders anyway - you're a medic, and you outrank this bunch when in need, not that there are any rankings to begin with.
The water disappears within an instant, cooling your insides and settling the alcohol flowing throughout your veins. Another hand appears on your back, and you overhear Hunter instruct Echo to take you outside. Your spare hand is fished around the Sargent's shoulder, and the pair drag you out as Tech finds his way to the others, still coddled up within the same booth, fashioned in one of the few gloomy corners within the bar.
"Maybe those shots weren't such a good idea, huh?" Hunter jokingly comments as he helps you sit on the floor, settling your hands on your lap with the help of Echo. The fresh air makes you worse, at first, your eyes falling shut as you let out a deep breath. You can overhear the pair talking, nattering away as if you're not a drunken state between them. Their words are bouncing around your skull, and you try your hardest to focus on that churning feeling within your stomach, hoping that it'll pass soon.
When your eyes do finally open, they snap open as your body jolts upright, suddenly remembering a certain something. "Where's my bag?" you worry, fearing that some pesky thief has taken advantage of your uneasy state and robbed you.
"Crosshair has it," Hunter replies. The relieved sigh that trails from your lips is like none other, knowing that the sniper isn't going to let your prized possession trail from his sights. Well, he might take a peak and steal a few mints, maybe fiddle about on your phone and post some embarrassing tweets, if he can figure out your passcode. We'll see.
"How are you feeling?" A concerned Echo asked. The last time he asked this, you were almost conked out on his shoulder, barely standing upright against the bar. But now you're stable, and embarrassed over how those shots make quick work of you. Oh well, we've all been there; well, some of your Batch has, and you've nursed them through hangovers and drunken punch-ups when they decide to pick a fight with their regular brothers, (although they don't always see them as brothers.)
"Better. Thank you," you reply, giving Echo's knee a squeeze, despite knowing that he can't feel it. The reassuring gesture doesn't go unnoticed, at least not visually, and Echo turns his attention to Hunter to ask if you can go back inside.
"Think you can be sensible now?" Hunter jokingly questions, cracking up when he's met with your frown. "I'm kidding. We shouldn't have fed you those shots," he explains.
"Yeah. I thought you'd know from experience that it's wrong to coddle shots like that," you jab back, overhearing Echo laugh behind you.
Hunter both pouts and smirks, followed by helping you up to your feet - a sign that the Sarge thinks you're ready to be deployed to the cozy booth you were briefly in, before running off to the bathroom, later trailing out to be met by a concerned Tech.
It was just a blip, really, but what else did you expect from downing shots? The remaining Batch greet you with open arms as you return to the booth. Your empty shot glasses have thankfully been cleaned away, a discarded reminder of the woman you were half an hour ago.
This time, you weave between Crosshair and Wrecker, reassuring them that you've respawned, and you're ready for round two. Crosshair has your bag resting on his lap, and as you go to reclaim it, he swats your hand away.
"You owe me," he monotonously comments, although you've learnt by now that this specific dried tone is sarcastic. For once, he smiles and softly laughs as you frown at his statement, before picking your bag up from his lap. "I think it suits me, don't you?" he questions.
"It matches your hair," you agree, taking the bag with ease from his grasp.
"Exactly," Crosshair replies.
He, and the others, watch as you fish through your bag, reassuring yourself that everything's there. It's all there, the lot, especially a bundle of credits, which you settle into your palm as you begin standing up, placing your bag back on Crosshairs lap in a silent agreement.
"Where are you off to now?" Wrecker questions, moving his legs aside, so you can shuffle past.
Your explanation is cut short by a sea of concerned and disappointed glances, especially from those who have just dragged you through your last chaotic meeting with alcohol. "It's not for me," you briefly explain, smirking as the sea of eyes soften out.
You return with a tray of shots, a large tray of shots. The only way that you can ensure your Batch forgets about your messy blip is by getting them as drunk as you were, or are, considering the alcohol in your bloodstream has finally evened out. There's a single shot on there for yourself, just so you can enjoy clinking your glass with the others as you toast to another herd of successful missions. Seven, was it?
"Eight!" Wrecker corrects you. Of course, he knows the exact count.
You settle back into the booth, enjoying the sensation of lush velvet coddling you, and watch smugly as your boys struggle to finish the tray of shots. So, these men can take down battalion after battalion, clankers galore, but they draw the line at liquor?
You point that out to them, and instantly regret your comment when Tech attempts to explain how "there is a vast difference between the battlefield, and indulging in alcohol."
"But I thought you boys could handle anything, right?" you tease.
Wrecker, in an attempt to both impress you, and reassure himself, shrugs before downing his portion of shots, instantly gagging when the final one slips down his throat. "Eugh," he shudders.
You watch with a wicked smirk as they each catch up, reacting negatively in their own ways, minus Crosshair, who barely bats his lashes. "Show off," you roll your eyes, turning your attention to him.
"A show off, and still your personal babysitter, apparently," Crosshair bites back, and returns your bag that you have, yet again, forgotten about. Honestly, how have you not been robbed? You flash him a sweet smile, silently thanking him for babysitting your belongings, and his eyes remain fixated on yours for a few moments before trailing over to look at his brothers.
Hunter dry heaves, and quickly excuses himself to the bathroom, followed by Wrecker. Maybe you should have brought nicer shots, something more expensive and flashy, but there was a deal on, and you're all about saving credits.
"Your taste in liquor is beyond atrocious," Tech comments, still attempting to wash the taste of poorly brewed booze out of his mouth with... more poorly brewed booze.
"At least we picked something nice for you," Echo adds on.
"Hey, all shots taste like kriff after a while," you shrug, defending your actions.
"Only if you can't handle them," Crosshair chimes in. You roll your eyes dramatically at his remark, and he lets out a soft laugh, his arms crossing against his chest.
"I'm going to grab another drink, something nice," Echo casts you a glare. "Would any of you like anything?"
"I'll come with you," Tech decides, rushing to get up from his seat.
You decline Echo's offer, already feeling more than comfortable with the amount of content in your body. "Whiskey, neat, please. Any brand," Crosshair requests, and Echo nods in confirmation before leaving you two to trail over to the bar, Tech on his tail.
"Feeling better, I take it?" Crosshair questions.
You nod in agreement as you cross one leg over the other, your knee settling against Crosshair's without realising. "It seems the tables are turning," you comment, silently gesturing to the other Batchers, who, no doubt, will soon begin dropping off, one by one.
"We're good at adapting to situations, but it seems not all of us can adjust to nightlife," Crosshair lightly laughs. He stretches his back, followed by resting both of his arms against the back of the padded booth. You pay no attention to his hand behind you, barely feeling its presence; you're used to the Batch getting up close and personal with you, using your thighs as a pillow whenever they're passed out, or falling asleep on your shoulder after an exhausting mission.
Sure, this isn't the same, but you're still unfazed by it. To anybody walking by, you two presumably look like quite the couple, hogging an entire booth to yourselves, decorated by a sea of empty glasses on the table. The thought doesn't cross your mind until you turn back to Crosshair, mouth open, about to bring up some silly nonsense, only words fail you when you're met by his dark, alluring eyes.
His shirt is tight around his chest, the fabric stretched out from the way his arms are angled. His top few buttons are undone, revealing chiselled pecs and delicious looking collarbones, sported by a small trail of chest hair. A gold chain sits elegantly below his throat, complimenting the wine red shirt that he wears, tucked in to a black pair of suit pants and flawlessly polished leather shoes.
"My eyes are up here," Crosshair comments, breaking you out of your daze. There's a wicked smirk planted on his lips, with one brow lightly raised. Crosshair's caught you slipping, and you sharply inhale as you break away from his gaze.
Only you're pulled back to him when he lets out a laugh. He smirks once more, and you watch as his hand slowly moves from resting on the booth, sliding up, about to touch your cheek. There should be skin on skin contact at any moment, a gentle touch on your chin, your cheek, your jawbone - something, anything - but there isn't.
Crosshair's eyes focus on something behind you, and he mutters, "thank you." You quirk a brow, and watch as Crosshair moves his hand away from you, this time with a glass of whiskey in it.
That cheeky little shit. You really thought he was going to touch you, didn't you?
Echo was behind you, passing Crosshair his drink, with you sandwiched in the middle of them. Ugh, you really thought something was about to happen, that the ever-growing bubble of sexual tension was about to pop, but Crosshair knows how to play this game, far better than you do.
"Don't mention it," Echo replies. You silently scoff as you turn your focus back to Tech and Echo, now settled in the booth. Crosshair's arm is still outstretched along the velvet seats, but it's far enough from you to prevent suspension. You had your chance, and now it's slipped through your grasp, cock blocked by your teammates.
Not wanting to fixate on your missed chance, you quickly spur your thoughts elsewhere. "Did you two see Hunter and Wrecker on your travels?" you question.
They both shake their heads, muttering "no," with concerned expressions. "I suppose I'll go and check on them," Tech huffs, and before any of you can reply, he's already stood up and began making his way over to the restrooms.
Speaking of restrooms, your bladder's calling, so you excuse yourself, leaving Echo and Crosshair to guard the booth. Your walk is wobbly, at first, no thanks to your heels and alcohol-powered body, but you quickly find your step, and by the time you're washing your hands, you're walking confidently.
Fishing through your bag, you pick out a few makeup products, touching up minor marks here and there. You're looking flawless, elegant, slutty, but there's nothing wrong with gussying yourself up even more. After all, this is a night to enjoy yourself, a rare opportunity whilst engulfed in war, so you're going to make the most of it!
Gazing at yourself in the mirror, your mind wanders, replaying that minor interaction with Crosshair. This isn't the first time that either of you have been so bold; he often flirts when unaccompanied by the others, such as when you're patching him up in the medical wing, or checking on him in the back of the Marauder.
"You're always taking care of us," Crosshair has commented as you've tended to a minor injury - a cut, a bruise, scrapes on his knees. "It's about time one of us returns the favour," he'll purr, but his flirtatious line always comes last, when he's bound and ready to go, standing up and leaving you to it before you can push a reply in.
And he's done the same again tonight! Kriff, the odds of you getting a true moment alone with the sniper are unbelievably slim, little to none, and you scoff to yourself at the knowledge that you'll have to endure another few months of his playful, one-sided flirting before you can even think about getting your foot in the door, or to be more blunt, his cock in you.
With your bag in your grasp, you exit the restrooms, weaving through the sea of drunken, regular clones and their one-night interests, only to find that your Batch's booth is completely empty, minus the empty drinks that have been left there. You sigh heavily, eyes trailing around the club, attempting to find one of the five men.
They haven't left you alone, have they? That's unlike them. Usually, it's the other way around - you can't get a moment alone from the broody bunch, even when you need it.
The sound of someone calling out your name through the pounding, bass music catches your attention, and you turn to see Crosshair stood by the bar, signalling for you to come over. Phew. You're not alone, after all.
"Where is everyone?" you question as you take your place beside him, bag resting on the bar top, your hands settling on either side.
"Is my company not enough for you?" he playfully teases, and you scoff in response, concerned for the others. "They've gone back to the ship. Tech and Echo found the other two making out with the brim of a toilet, and decided it's best to drag them back before they make things worse."
"Oh," you sigh, disappointed that your night is ending earlier than expected.
"I said I'd wait here for you, and that I'd ask if you wanted to head back, or stay a little longer," he continues. Your eyes instantly light up, and he smiles at your excited expression. "I take that as you wanting to stay," he states, and you nod eagerly. "Okay, what will it be?"
You take a second to catch on, but quickly realise that Crosshair is asking for your drink order. He buys a round for both of you, and it's not until Crosshair begins fishing credits out of his pants pocket that you realise how closely you're pressed up against him. Taking a step back, not wanting to be overbearing, you accidentally bump into a stranger behind you, who grumbles in response.
"Sorry," you sigh. You're quickly reeled back into your rightful place, as Crosshair slips his arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side.
"Be careful," he purrs. "The regs don't play as nicely as I do."
And again, before you can flirt back, Crosshair's turned his attention to the bartender to pay for your drinks. He slides your drink directly into your grasp, and with his drink in his spare hand, he turns back to you. "What do you want to do? Return to the booth?" he questions.
Now is your chance.
"Come and dance with me," you suggest with a playful nudge.
Your eyes roll heavily, grumbling beneath your breath. "Come on," you coo.
"I don't dance," he simply states. Of course, what were you expecting from a man as stern and independent as Crosshair?
"You can stand there, and I'll dance," you propose, eager to drag him out onto the dance floor. You're not going down without a fight! Or a... dance?
"Won't that look awkward?"
"For you, maybe," you shrug. Desperate to see if you can at least get him swaying to the music, you take his hand from around your waist, and lock his fingers between yours, pulling him in the direction of the dance floor. He overly-dramatically grumbles behind you, but allows you to lead him, gripping his whiskey tightly as he walks, hoping that one of the regular clones won't bump into him and knock it from his grasp.
By now, everybody at 79's is drunk. Nobody is paying any attention to either of you, caught up in their own little groups, barely able to see through their beer goggles. You find space within the dance floor, and with Crosshair's hand still in yours, you begin softly dancing to the music, ensuring that your hips are moving the most.
Crosshair looks like your babysitter, stood there motionless, minus his other hand which moves to sip on his whiskey. It doesn't take long for you to begin pouting again, slowly feeling defeat at Crosshairs unwillingness to dance. "Why won't you dance?" you grumble, shouting over the music at him.
"I don't want to," he shrugs, stating the obvious.
You hum, gazing around at the strangers, attempting to find the temptation needed to rope Crosshair into at least swaying with the music. You notice a couple within the crowd, partially hidden through the thick sea of clones, and that's when a lightbulb switches on deep within your brain. "What if I stopped looking? Would you then feel comfortable enough to dance?"
Crosshair casts the most confused expression that you've ever seen, squinting as he asks, "closing your eyes? How will that help?"
"No, no," you shake your head, laughing innocently. "I mean like this-"
With your drink in one hand, and your bag in the other, you take a gamble and get into position. Spinning around, you press your back against Crosshairs chest, and direct his free hand to rest on your hip. He peers down at you through his lashes, and softly chuckles as you begin lightly grinding against him.
"Oh," Crosshair purrs, tightening his grip on your hip. He pulls you snugly against his body, and you can feel the movement of his chest on your back every time he breathes, and those same breaths trail over the back of your neck. "Bold move," he comments, and finally begins swaying in time with the music, matching the movement of your hips.
"I learn from the best," you flirt, and hear Crosshair chuckle from behind you. With a straw between your lips, you finish off your drink, reaching out to place it onto the tray of a passing service droid before they disappear into the sea of people.
The Maker must be blessing you, urging you to get some dick, as a slow and sensual song comes on - perfect for grinding. Crosshair's moving his hips perfectly in time with yours, with his crotch pressed directly against your ass, and a certain someone is growing harder as every second passes. Your name is muttered against your ear, and you let out a soft, "hm?" as you roll your head back to lean on Crosshair's shoulder.
"I wasn't expecting to spend tonight like this," Crosshair confesses, speaking directly against your ear. His tone of voice is always sly and dominant, but as of right now, there's a lustful glisten to it, like a poisonous apple that you're oh-so-tempted to bite.
"You mean, with a pretty woman in your arms?" you innocently question.
Crosshair chuckles as he agrees, "yeah, something like that." He finishes his glass of whiskey, and without looking, places it onto the tray of another passing service droid. Instantly, his hand finds your hips, and he squeezes them before settling his grip there.
There's something defiant about this activity; it's downright naughty, getting cozy with your co-worker, even if you classify him to be more of a friend. And to make things worse, Crosshair kicks up the heat by dipping his head down, and latching his lips onto your neck.
Oh, Maker. His kisses are perfect - there's just the right amount of tension to them. A never ending chill begins dripping down your spine, and Crosshair's lips are surprisingly soft, minus the odd occasion where he sucks as your skin, not breaking the surface, but threatening to. You're so eager for him to leave his mark, in any and every way, and you order him to with a, "do it."
Crosshair snickers, his lips still pressed to your neck; he's finally grazing his teeth against your flesh, and leaves the first of many marks. You moan, despite being in public, and Crosshair fights the urge to tease you for your neediness. He has more important tasks on his checklist, as of right now, but he'll have them all ticked off by the time the night is over, however long it may be.
"Cross," you sigh as Crosshair removes his lips, smirking at the ever-growing purple mark on your neck.
"What is it, doll?" Crosshair purrs.
Despite the alcohol running through your veins, making your body wobbly, Crosshair manages to spin you around, pressing your chest tightly to his. His hands trail from your hips, dipping down to grope your ass, and the bastard has the audacity to ask, "why?"
You scoff. Of course Crosshair is going to be like this! Not wanting to put up with his sarky attitude, you stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to his. Ah, finally, it's taken Maker-knows how many months, but your lips are locked onto the snipers, and he's kissing you back.
Crosshair exhales heavily as he tightens his grip on your ass, all whilst his lips begin moving against yours. He knows exactly what he's doing, turning you into putty in his grasp; you can feel your knees going weak, a knot tightening in your stomach, and if Crosshair for some reason lets go, you'll fall flat onto the dance floor.
One of Crosshair's hands move from your ass to grip the back of your head, his hand entwining deep within your hair. He's loving this just as much as you are, and you question how long he's been pining after you. Daringly, you run the tip of your tongue across his lower lip, and Crosshair does the last thing you'd ever expect; he moans before introducing his tongue to yours, making out with you in the middle of 79's.
Whilst you're busy locking lips, enjoying the sensation of his body pressed against yours, and the faint scent of his aftershave getting comfortable in your nose, an irritated patron calls out, "get a room!"
Crosshair breaks the kiss with a dark chuckle. Your eyes are forced to meet his, and you shiver at the sight; his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown, engulfed in lust. "How about that?" Crosshair questions with his usual drawl. "Maybe the reg's right, maybe we should get a room?"
"Cross," you whimper. You can feel your chest burning up, and your stomach knots even tighter with nervousness and excitement. "Do you want to?" you dare ask, wanting to hear those words for yourself.
"I'd love to," Crosshair purrs. A smile remains on his lips as he dips his head down to latch his lips onto your neck, leaving even more marks for you to become embarrassed about in the future. As of right now, they're heavenly, the perfect mixture between pleasure and pain. "As much as I want to get a room with you, I don't know if I have the patience to wait until we're back at yours," Crosshair explains against your ear.
A raunchy and down-right disgusting idea springs to mind. "Kriff me right here," you blurt out, speaking before your mind can think things though.
Crosshair removes himself from your neck to raise a single brow, silently questioning your motives. "The restroom..." is all you can stutter. Your thighs involuntarily squeeze together, and you're almost certain Crosshair felt it, your body pressed againt his.
"Dirty girl," he lovingly mocks. "You want me to kriff you in the restroom, huh?"
"Oh," Crosshair sighs. "Well, if that's what the lady wants, then that's what she'll get."
And with that, Crosshair takes your hand in his, and begins leading you over to the restrooms. There are two sets of restrooms in 79's: one near the dance floor, and one upstairs in a dark area of the club. The dance floor ones are, obviously, more active, but few people go into the upstairs restrooms. And that's exactly where Crosshair is leading you.
Crosshair doesn't bother checking over his shoulder as he tugs you towards the men's room, but you do, and thankfully, the coast is clear. You follow him inside, questioning how intoxicated he really is since he didn't check, but then again, this is Crosshair, after all. Crosshair moves you swiftly, dragging you into a stall and locking it with haste.
Suddenly, his eyes are locking onto yours, and you can feel yourself freezing up in the rush of everything. Crosshair notices this, and grins as he comments, "don't go cold on me, doll."
Maker, if only you could catch him like this for once! "I'm not," you defend yourself.
"Good," Crosshair murmurs before pushing you back against the wall. His lips are on yours again, and this time, they're the complete opposite of slow and sensual. Crosshair wedges his knee between your thighs as he jumps straight into sliding his tongue against yours; the taste of whiskey is prominent, making you shudder, and you can feel Crosshair grinning as he continues turning you into putty.
The snipers hands trail up along your thighs, gliding over your skin before they begin dancing with the hemline of your dress. Crosshair can't hold back any more, he's been pining after you for so long, and now you're here, pressed up against the wall, his lips on yours whilst you softly grind down onto his thigh. Crosshair finally snaps, and shows it by pulling the hemline of your dress up to your waist, exposing your panties.
"Cross-" you yelp. He pleasantly hums as he lowers his thigh from your crotch, only to replace it with his hand. Two thick fingers run along your clothed sex, trailing back and forth a few times before pressing firmly against your clit. "Cross," you yelp again, only this time, your words come out as a whimper.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Crosshair innocently questions.
You scowl, glaring at him as you reply, "you know what is it."
"Oh, I don't think I do," he chuckles. Crosshair keeps his gaze locked onto yours as he asks, "why don't you explain it for me?"
Ugh, this man!
Crosshair will jump at any and every opportunity to tease you, so why not tease him back? Kriff, there's liquid courage running through your veins, and you're confined to a toilet stall in a nightclub. You're in a strange situation, and as strange as it may be, it's the perfect space to get your revenge.
Licking your lips, you bat your lashes as you lay down your reply hard. "You're teasing me, Crosshair, and I know it."
"And?" Crosshair mindlessly shrugs, his lips slanting into a cocky smile.
"And I think you should quit it, and kriff me already," you explain. Your hands find the waistline of his pants, and you latch onto his belt, unfastening the leather strap with haste. Crosshair's eyes flick from yours to watch as you undress him; oh, he knows you're attempting to match him at his own game, and he's not going to go down without a fight.
"Hmm, I want to, but..." his words trail off as Crosshair's fingers weave their way under your panties, finally rubbing along the soft skin of your folds. "...But I need to work you open first."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" you rhetorically ask, raising a smug brow. The second your sentence finishes, Crosshair plunges both of his thick fingers into you, not stopping until his knuckle is grinding against your clit. "Cross-" you whimper, chewing on your bottom lip to keep the noise down.
"Something a matter?" Crosshair smugly chuckles as he begins working his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them ever so slightly.
"Maker, kriff," you sigh. You rush to unfasten his pants, letting them fall open just enough to get access to his boxers. The outline of Crosshair's thick cock is already pressed against the thin fabric, eager to burst out; you lend him a hand by freeing him of his restraints, and instantly groan at the sight.
Crosshair's cock is delicious, the perfect girth and length. He's a deep shade of red at the tip, with finely trimmed pubes around the base, and there's already precum spilling from the tip. You can't help but run the pad of your thumb over his slit, swiping away his precum and bringing it up to your mouth; you lock your gaze onto Crosshair's as you lick the precum off your thumb, and you can tell that Crosshair is internally screaming at the sight.
Before you know it, Crosshair's lips are on yours again, and now there's an unofficial competition between who can turn the other into a stuttering mess first. You wrap your fist around Crosshair's cock, pumping him eagerly as he continues working you open. The sound of bass music is pounding in the distance, and so far, nobody else has wandered into the stalls. You're as confined as you can be in a public setting, hidden in plain sight as you continue riling each other up.
"Kriff," Crosshair mutters as he breaks the kiss. "Turn around. I need you now."
Ah, you've won!
Crosshair rushes to slip his fingers from you, and he begins spinning you around, guiding your hands to press flat out against the wall. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" Crosshair begins blabbering through gritted teeth as he lines himself up.
"Let me guess, since you first met me?" you confidently reply, peering over your shoulder to watch as Crosshair spits onto his length, followed by rutting his cock against your entrance.
"Don't get cocky with me, girl," Crosshair grunts through gritted teeth.
Before you can even muster up a reply, he begins sinking his length into you. Both of you sigh in unison as Crosshair bottoms out, filling you up and stretching you out perfectly. "As I was saying, yes, I wanted to kriff you the second I met you," Crosshair continues. He lets out steady breaths between each word, and you know he's holding himself back. You've never seen Crosshair lose his mind before, but he's threatening to right now, all because of you!
"The feeling is mutual, Crossy," you purr, still watching over your shoulder as Crosshair begins rocking his hips against yours.
Crosshair groans as he replies, "if anybody else called me that, they'd be dead."
"Oh, you tolerate me so much," you sarcastically reply.
"You have no idea," Crosshair replies, bouncing back your sarcasm. No wonder you two get along so well!
Only both of your sarcasm slips away as you two finally get around to blowing off some steam. Your palms are the only cool area of your body, pressed against the tile wall, the complete opposite of your fiery groin and stomach. The nervous waves in your chest are finally fading away, soon to be replaced with lust and arousal, not wanting this night to end.
Crosshair watches through half-lidded eyes as his cock slips in and out of you; he notices how your pussy lips wrap deliciously around his shaft, so tight, so perfect. He'll never admit it, but Crosshair has spent countless nights wrapping his fist around his cock, wishing it was you. He's never truly understood attraction; the only woman that he needs in his life is his rifle, until you were paired up with the Batch. Again, Crosshair will never admit this, but he has feelings for you - real, genuine feelings that only seem to ferment over time.
"Perfect," you overhear Crosshair say under his breath. The urge to tease his tenderness is almost over-whelming, but you bite back, not wanting to 'ruin' the moment.
After letting out a deep breath, followed by a swear, you let your forehead press on the tile wall. The chill seeps along your skin, only to be pulled away as Crosshair wraps his arm around your chest, and pulls you up to press against his body. Before you know it, Crosshair's lips are on your neck again, leaving even more marks along your skin; the Batch are definitely going to know what happened, considering you two didn't leave early tonight, and that you'll both be walking funny for the next days to come.
"So karking perfect," Crosshair mutters against you once more. "If only you could see yourself, sweetheart," he purrs. The tone of his voice is nothing like you've ever heard before; it's similar to his usual drawl, but with a slight purr, mixed with lust and a soft sprinkle of admiration.
Before you can return the compliment, Crosshair's hips come to a halt, followed by a wicked, "you could."
"I could what?" you question.
"You could watch yourself right now," Crosshair replies.
Crosshair lets out a defeated and painful sigh, then replies before you can tease him for his lack of patience. "We're in a restroom, doll. And what do restrooms have in them?"
"Karking hell," Crosshair cries as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. "Mirrors, girl. Mirrors."
After shrugging Crosshair off your shoulder, you whip your head around to ask, "you want to kriff me in front of the mirror?"
"But what if someone walks in?!"
Maker, what else were you expecting? "Nobody ever comes in here, sweetheart," Crosshair comments as he gently kisses your neck, leaving soft smooches over the areas that he's bruised. "But we don't have to, if you don't want to."
You know that Crosshair will always stay true to his word, and he's not going to throw a hissy fit if you decline. Yet, there's something thrilling about the risk; do you want someone to walk in? Do you want to risk getting caught? Do you want to lock your eyes onto Crosshair's through the mirror, as he pounds you over the sink?
"You want to?" Crosshair double-checks, and you can tell from his tone of voice that he's excited.
"I want to," you nod.
Before Crosshair can reply, you slip his cock from your pussy, and pull your panties up just enough so that you're able to walk over to your new position. Crosshair stands in the open stall with his mouth agape, and it somehow falls open even more as you bend over the counter, peering over your shoulder whilst you give your ass a playful wiggle.
"You're playing a dangerous game," Crosshair tenderly threatens, although you know his words will fall flat when it comes to actually playing with you.
"Well? Come and play with me, then."
For the first time in your life, you watch as Crosshair rushes over to you. Yes, the sniper speeds up his lanky steps and finds his rightful place - behind you, with his cock pressed against your ass. He groans as he kneads your hips, feeling you up, admiring every curve and bump. After lining up his cock, Crosshair meets your gaze in the mirror, and his brows furrow as he forces you to wait for his lead.
Seconds pass, and you refuse to look away. Your eyes are locked onto Crosshair's, meeting half-way through the reflective glass. Finally, once his timed arousal has run out, Crosshair sinks his cock into your heat, and both of your jaws fall open at the sensation.
"Dirty girl," Crosshair purrs. "You're my dirty girl, aren't you?"
"I am," you eagerly nod. "I must be if I'm letting you kriff me out in the open. Anybody could walk in right now," you remind him.
"As if I could forget. That's all part of the fun, mesh'la." Crosshair plants a tender kiss to your shoulder before he begins moving his hips, the sound of skin against skin soon filling up the restrooms. His hands sink into the perfect curve of your waist, resting just above your hipbones, and Crosshair can't seem to take his half-lidded gaze off your reflection.
You grip onto the sink rim, puffing and panting with every thrust. The steam of your breaths appear on the mirror, barely fading away before reappearing again. Crosshair is going at a quickened pace, so overwhelmed with the thrill of it all. His brows furrow their usual amount, but for once, he's not frustrated; well, he is, but more of a sexual frustration rather than a 'I hate everyone around me' frustration.
With Crosshair ramming into you, it's hard to keep the noise down. The bass music outside continues pounding away, covering up most of your sounds, yet it isn't enough for Crosshair's liking. Strange, considering he's the one who doesn't seem phased about the risk of being caught?
Crosshair slips his cock out and orders for you to, "take your panties off."
"What?" you yelp, peering over your shoulder.
"You heard me," Crosshair orders again. He motions with two fingers for you to shimmy your panties down, and you follow his lead, stepping out of them, and using your heel, you pick them up.
"Good girl," Crosshair purrs as he removes your panties from your grasp. "Eyes forward," Crosshair instructs. With one hand full, he uses the other to guide his cock back into your soaked folds, and keeps himself sheathed deep inside so he can focus on his next set of instructions.
"You can be quite nosey, you know?" Crosshair comments, peering over your shoulder, and locking his gaze onto yours through the mirror. Crosshair lifts your scrunched up panties to your face, and suggests, "why don't you quiet down, hm?"
You instinctively move forward, your mouth opening, allowing Crosshair to use your panties as a makeshift gag and silence you. "Good girl," Crosshair purrs again as his hand moves away, revealing the pretty sight of your silenced mouth. "So good at following instructions, aren't you?"
All you can do is nod, followed by a muffled, "uh-huh."
Crosshair begins rolling his hips again, earning a muffled whimper from you. "If you're such a good girl, then why are you lowering your standards to this? Allowing me to kriff you in the restrooms? Is that all you're worth?"
Kriff. Your walls automatically clench around Crosshair's length as he degrades you. Maybe this is all you're really worth? "Uh-huh," you eagerly nod again, agreeing with Crosshair's statement.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't quite catch that. But I'm sure you can explain things to me once I've finished with you," Crosshair replies with a wicked grin.
The grip around your hips tightens as Crosshair picks up his speed, his previous words barely settling in your mind before you begin feeling fuzzy again. Thank the Maker that the alcohol from earlier settled down long ago, but it's still clearly present, considering sudden unannounced guests don't steer you from the task at hand.
"We have company," Crosshair whispers against your ear.
You didn't even hear the door open, but using the mirror, you lock your gaze onto a bunch of Troopers who have accidentally stumbled on your risky interaction. Thankfully, you don't recognise them, but you have seen their blue and white armour before. You're torn; part of you wants to focus on their fine details, their tattoos and haircuts, so that you can figure out who they are later on; and the other part of you wants to focus on Crosshair, and Crosshair alone, unfazed by the men in the corner.
They're muttering amongst themselves, all seeming unbothered by your raunchy interaction. One of them even disregards you two and heads straight for a stall, leaving the others to themselves. They're watching, shifting their stances, holding back the urge to press their palms against their codpieces in an attempt to earn some form of relief.
"Putting on quite a show, aren't you?" Crosshair's words pull you back to him, and your eyes meet his in the mirror. "As pretty as you may be, you need to remember that only I am allowed to touch you, alright? Not them, just me."
"Yes, Sir," you manage to reply through your fabric gag.
"That's my girl," Crosshair smiles, placing a tender kiss to your shoulder. "Now, let's show them how it's done, shall we?"
All you can do is nod, and the second your head comes to a standstill, Crosshair speeds up his thrusts. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the restrooms, and your eyes fall shut, scrunched up from the intensity of it all. Through the bass music pounding outside, you can hear Crosshair's quick grunts and huffs, attempting to keep his breathing steady as his cock ploughs into you with such intensity that you can feel your slickness dripping down your thighs.
When your eyes finally open again, you find that Crosshair's are shut. His brows are furrowed, and all of his focus is clearly put into leaving you a soaked and trembling mess. Your eyes meet the Troopers in the corner, two of which are pumping their own lengths. One of them winks at you, the one with the temple tattoo and goatee, and there's a mischievous glisten in his eyes. He, along with his friend, are almost as thick and girthy as Crosshair, their length looking delicious in their bunched up fists, and the-
"Eyes on me," Crosshair hisses, snapping you out of your gaze.
A slender hand wraps around your neck, and fingertips find the right spot beneath your jawline, squeezing just enough so that your head begins to spin. "I was going to reward you for being so obedient, but seeing as you're misbehaving, you'll have to work on achieving your own orgasm instead."
Crosshair's words are as venomous as they come, but you know deep down that he's only putting this persona on to show off to the 'regs.' Whatever, you can play along with his dominant game. With one hand holding you up against the sink, the other slips down your body, fingertips finding your clit. You work on chasing your own orgasm, whilst Crosshair continues pounding away, his hand still wrapped around your throat.
"That's it, girl," Crosshair praises. His eyes lock onto yours, and the first thing that you notice are his flushed red cheeks. You know he's not really blushing, and that he's sweaty and overheating from the work that he's putting in, but what if he was? Crosshair, blushing? Now, that's a sight you long to see.
"Ladies first. Finish for me, doll," Crosshair orders. He removes his hand from your throat, placing it on your hips instead to steady his balance as he continues ploughing into you. In the corner of your eye, you notice one of the Troopers finishing, grunting as he releases onto the restroom floor. One of the others, a bald Trooper with a large head tattoo, jabs him playfully before returning his focus to pumping his length.
Your fingertips continue grinding against your clit, and the pantie gag in your mouth dampens even more as every second passes. Everything feels so intense, and the knot in your stomach continues to tighten, in awe that you've finally managed to weave your way into Crosshair's pants.
Not that that was the end goal to begin with...
"Kriff," you mumble, your legs turning into jelly. "Ah!" another whimper escapes your lips, and you almost fall flat against the sink as your orgasm washes over your body.
"That's it," Crosshair sighs, repeating his words a few times. He rushes to slip his cock from you, turning away and pumping it a few times. Crosshair paints the restroom floor white, and the sounds that he's making are heavenly. Who knew that Crosshair could sound so desperate and dominant at the same time?
The second that Crosshair's orgasm has come to an end, he's back onto you. Tenderness takes over as Crosshair removes the gag from your mouth, whilst his other hand gently pulls your dress back down your body, covering you up. "Sit down," Crosshair sweetly instructs as he pats the countertop, followed by helping you sit between two sinks.
Your legs feel like jelly, possibly worse, seeing as you two have been at it for far too long. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you watch as Crosshair slips your panties into his pocket as he makes his way over to a stall. Whilst watching him, you notice that the boys in blue have disappeared; when? You're not sure, but you fear that you'll be all over the holonet in hours to come. Crosshair bunches a load of toilet paper up in his hand, and uses it to clean your inner thighs up, seeing as you're damper than bacta.
"Are you going soft on me?" you playfully comment whilst Crosshair cleans you up. He laughs, only for a few seconds, and after he's thrown the toilet paper into the toilet, he finally meets your gaze.
Crosshair finishes tucking himself away, then stands between your thighs. Warm palms find their way to your knees, and his thumbs automatically begin gliding over your skin, attempting some form of after care. "I've always been soft on you," Crosshair admits with his usual drawl, and a familiar, sarcastic tone to his voice. Thankfully, you know he's not being sarcastic, nor is he lying.
"Oh, really?" you playfully reply. "That explains a few things..."
"Like what?" Crosshair asks with a single brow raised.
"Well..." you begin, followed by listing off the little things that give Crosshair's admiration away. With every item that you list, his smile grows even more, and for once, it's genuine. Maker, Crosshair is laughing along with you after sex; your stomach feels like the unruly Dune Sea, and every time your eyes meet his, it twists and turns even more.
Dare you say it, but Crosshair is cute; sweet, kind, gentle, the complete opposite of the man who was slamming into you moments ago.
"Alright, alright," Crosshair silences your rambling as he places a tender kiss to your lips. "Don't get too smug," he has the audacity to comment. Before you can muster up a reply, his lips return to yours, and he kisses you in such a way that, if you were standing up, you would have collapsed from his pureness.
As the kiss breaks, Crosshair's lips move along your cheek, following the flow of your jawline, then dipping down your neck. His five o'clock shadow dances against your skin, and his silver hair disappears from the corner of your eye the lower he goes.
The sound of bass music coming to an end causes Crosshair to detach from your neck, and he lets out a sarcastic sigh at the fact that the night is almost over. "So, what's next on the agenda?" Crosshair asks.
Coincidentally, your stomach rumbles, and that's all the reply that Crosshair needs. He chuckles as he suggests, "how about we get something to eat?"
You eagerly nod, followed by suggesting, "we should probably get something for the others, too."
"I suppose so," Crosshair rolls his eyes. His hands find your waist as he helps you off the counter, and one remains there as you two begin exiting the restrooms. Before you begin walking down the stairs, heading over to the exit, you freeze up as you yelp, "kriff, my bag!"
Maker, what is it with you and losing your bag?!
Crosshair, with a smug grin, and a brow raised, waves your bag in his free hand. He refuses to hand it over when you reach out for it, using the excuse of, "you'll lose it again."
"Where did you find it?!" you ask.
"Had it on me the whole time," Crosshair chuckles, and urges you on towards the exit. "You oughta be more careful," he teases, and finally slips your bag into your grasp. Checking through it, you see that everything is still there, meaning Crosshair has been keeping an eye on it all evening, whilst you've been busy getting your panties wet.
"I owe you," you sigh.
"I know," Crosshair smiles, following you through the doors of 79's. "How about you pay for my food, hm?"
"Alright, but I get to pick where we're eating," you bite back.
Crosshair happily nods in agreement. "Dinner's on you, doll..."
How the Bad Batch reacts to you saying, "ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad!" in the middle of an argument (gender-neutral reader)
Hunter - Your words will definitely catch him off guard. He'll blink heavily as his brain re-boots, processing what you've just said. You just said what he thinks you just said, right?? After a long and awkward pause, Hunter's brows furrow as he begins telling you off for being 'inappropriate.' This man has a reputation to uphold, he is a leader, after all, and he won't allow anyone to throw him off when he's attempting to lecture you. "You really think that's appropriate, huh? I'm trying to stop you from getting yourself killed, and you're-" blah blah blah.
Wrecker - It's pretty much impossible to get into an argument with Wrecker, but if you somehow manage it, then this will be the line that totally throws him off guard. Hang on, what were you two even arguing about? Is it suddenly hot in here? Why is Wrecker now dying for a drink? His cheeks will turn a vibrant shade of red as sweat forms above his brow, and Wrecker can't maintain eye contact as he blurts out, "yeah, I do! So what?!!?!" before storming off, needing some time alone to process what's just happened. Expect an apology from him later on, even if he wasn't in the wrong.
Tech - Altercations aren't rare for Tech. He's grown up with three brothers who make him want to rip his hair out, so when you start getting snappy, Tech tries to put you back in your place. However, you now have the upper hand with that one little line! Tech shuts down. He stops working. Does he really want to kiss you? Wait, no... focus! You two were arguing about... uh... "We may continue our discussion when you decide to be appropriate," Tech grumbles before storming off, locking himself in the cockpit. He needs some time to think about you the argument.
Echo - Like Wrecker, it's impossible to get into an argument with Echo. He's such a pacifist, and knows that team issues can always be resolved by talking them out. Then again, this is the Bad Batch, and situations can often become tense and heated. Echo looks like a deer in the headlights when you drop this line; he's torn between telling you off, admitting that you're right, or simply walking away. You can physically see his mind and body deciding on which path to go down, and Echo soon decides to walk off, not wanting to do or say anything that he might later regret.
Crosshair - You're in the middle of arguing with this sarky sniper, and just when you're about to pull out your winning line, Crosshair beats you to it. "You want to kiss me so bad right now, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. This argument is an attempt to cover up your true feelings for me," Crosshair boldly states, his hands resting on his hips with a smug grin on his face. Well, uh, now it's your turn to decide where you take things. Maybe ensure that the others aren't around, or else they're never going to let you live this down!
Summary: Throughout the thick and never-ending darkness that war brings, you find a small light in the form of a mutated clone, who seems to lose his confidence when a mission leads him and his brothers to you.
Pairing: Tech x Jedi Reader Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance, minus stating that she is a Jedi with a few attachment issues. Tags: Multi-chapter, Slow burn, Mutual pining, Idiots in love, Strangers to lovers, Nervousness, Flirting, Brotherly banter, Pre Order-66. Word count: 3k
[Chapter 1] [Chapter 6 not posted yet]
Tech hasn't even made it back onto the Marauder, and his brothers are already hollering at him. Thankfully, you're out of earshot, and Tech silently praises the Maker for it. In the few steps that it takes for Tech to approach the ship, he debates running away. He questions what repercussions he would face if he floors it, and escapes before his brother's torment can worsen. Sadly, he has a ship to fly, and missions to attend, so Tech chews on his bottom lip as the berating begins.
"Did you get her number?!" Wrecker screams as Tech begins boarding the ship. Tech, with his head down, ignores him, but it's too late. "You did, didn't you? Vod, I can see you blushing!"
"Wrecker, knock it off!" Echo butts in with a playful slap to Wrecker's arm. His glare softens out as he looks at Tech, who is shuffling away, sitting in his only safe space on this ship - the pilot's seat. "You did get her number, though, right?" Echo questions.
Tech lets out a deep sigh, and forces himself to look up at his band of misfits. Wrecker is grinning from ear to ear, Echo looks concerned, Hunter is posing with his hands on his hips, and Crosshair is smugly grinning, leaning against the door frame.
"If I answer your question, will you promise to stop your teasing?" Tech questions, directing most of his words to Wrecker.
"Yeah, sure," Wrecker sputters, eager to hear the news. Oh, what a lie that is.
"Wrecker," Hunter warns with a stern tone, to which Wrecker brushes him off.
"Fine," Tech sighs again. "I have, indeed, acquired her private comlink channel-"
Tech's sentence is cut short as Wrecker lets out a cheer. Somehow, the Marauder's window's don't smash from his intense pitch. All the boys instantly plug their hands over their ears, whilst Echo reaches his hand up to switch his headset off, blocking the sounds of Wrecker's hollering out of his poor brain.
"Are you quite done?" Tech eventually snaps after Wrecker has got most of his excitement out.
"Heh, yeah. I guess so. I'm just happy for you, Tech," Wrecker says with a chuckle, shyly rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
"I can see," Tech grumbles. His flustered expression has long since passed, wiped away by Wrecker's entire existence.
"Now we've got all of that out of our system," Hunter casts Wrecker a sarcastic eye roll. "Tech, we're happy for you," Hunter smiles.
Tech lets out another grumble, swirling his chair away to face the steering wheel. "Thank you," he bluntly replies. "Anyway, buckle up. We need to be at Tatooine within the next rotation," he explains, swiftly moving the conversation along.
Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker share a look, shrugging between them at Tech's bluntness. He's never been one to talk about... well, anything, really. Tech isn't the type to talk about his feelings; the only thing he'll tell you about is facts and figures. Not wanting to press on the matter, Hunter decides that it's time to get a move on, and shuts the cockpit door, whilst everyone else finds their seats.
Crosshair makes his way to the back of the Marauder, a soft smile on his lips. He is, of course, happy for his brother, but Crosshair would also react the same way if he was approached like this. People can be so over-baring, and as much as the others mean well, things can swiftly become too much.
With that, the Marauder finally gets a move on, and before they know it, the Batch are in hyperspace.
As always, the Batch automatically shift into relaxation mode, and those who can, get some rest. Hunter is up first for the night watch shift, and scoots Tech out of the pilot's seat, urging him to claim one of the bunks before they're all gone.
Tech was going to stay up for a while to work on one of his many projects, but decides against it. It's best to keep his Sergeant happy, so he begrudgingly begins heading down the ship. To Tech's surprise, Echo is sitting at one of the control panels, scrolling through what looks like some kind of article. "Are you not turning in for the night?" Tech questions as he passes by.
"Hm?" Echo hums as he zones back into reality, turning to face Tech. "Oh, later, yeah. I wanna catch up on some reports first," Echo explains, gesturing to the screen.
With a raised brow, Tech scans through the article, coming to realise what Echo is reading. "Ah, you're catching up on General Skywalker's reports," Tech states.
"Yeah," Echo says with a soft laugh. It's no secret that he misses the 501st, and will jump at any and every opportunity to stay close to them. It's healthy to stay in contact with those you love, and the Batch encourage it!
"Well, I'll take the spare bunk," Tech replies. "Wake me when you'd like to rotate."
"Sure," Echo agrees with a nod.
Tech makes his way over to the set of bunks, two of which are already occupied with a snoring Wrecker, and Crosshair, who's on the very top bunk, presumably sound asleep. After removing his armour and storing it away, Tech shuffles up onto the middle bunk, his holopad in hand. He turns the device on, and begins checking the usual apps, catching up on reports and whatnot.
It doesn't take long to complete, and Tech finds himself doom scrolling. The recent reports are miserable, as is the news, but Tech can't find it within himself to simply turn his holopad off and go to bed. He's occupying himself, and deep down, he knows he is. What else is Tech meant to do whilst waiting for a certain something to happen?
Tech subconsciously lets out a grumbled sigh as he opens up his messages. No, you still haven't contacted him, but what if you actually had and, somehow, Tech's holopad didn't notify him? It's an absurd theory, especially for someone like Tech, who's holopad would never mess up such a simple task, but Tech convinces himself that that's the case.
The screen finally turns dark as Tech forces himself to turn the device off, setting it down beside him. His hands come to rest on his chest after he removes his goggles, placing them on top of his holopad, and for the first time in cycles, Tech shuts his eyes and attempts to sleep.
The second his eyes shut, Tech questions if he turned his holopad on loud. He did, didn't he? Damn it, now he has to check! Yep, it's on loud, meaning if someone contacts him, then he'll hear the usual notification sound.
Again, his holopad is placed down by his side, and Tech's eyes fall shut once more. This time, a few seconds pass before Tech picks up his holopad again, convincing himself once more that his volume isn't adequately turned up. It's on the level that it's always at - not too loud, but loud enough to be heard. Yep, everything seems to be in order, and Tech pouts as he places his holopad down for the third time.
Knowing that he's only going to keep checking it, Tech turns on his side, facing away from the cursed device. You'll contact him when you're ready - Tech continues reminding himself that as he crosses his arms over his chest, looking rather angry for a man who's attempting to sleep.
Tech's eyes close for, yet again, only a few seconds before he decides to roll onto his other side, wanting to face his holopad, just in case, you know?
Karking hell, this is becoming pathetic. You'll definitely contact him, right? Surely, you will. If you weren't interested, then you would have rejected his proposal, and you displayed no physical signs of discomfort or disinterest. If anything, you seemed eager and excited to be taking a step forward with Tech; your body language displayed obvious signs of nervousness, a common trait for when someone is interested, but shy. There was also a rosy tint to your cheeks, and nothing but kindness flowing from your lips.
Yeah, Tech has nothing to worry about. You'll contact him when you're ready, just like you said you would!
Finally, after minutes of a mental self-battle, Tech manages to actually sleep. His mind is as clear as it can be, and he conks out within minutes as his exhaustion finally gets a moment to relax.
Tech groans as the sudden sound stirs him awake. Ugh, there's sleep in his eyes, and he's dribbled all over his pillow again. His joints click as he stretches, attempting to wake his body up. Kriff, how many hours did he manage to get? It couldn't have been many, since he feels like Bantha poodoo.
Tech's holopad calls out for him again, and suddenly, Tech realises what's going on. He scrambles awake, roughly rubbing his eyes before grabbing his holopad, eager to see if that notification is the one that he's hoping for.
Ah, it is! Tech's received a message from an unknown commlink channel, which must be you! After a heavy yawn to help wake him up, Tech opens your message to read it properly.
'Hey, Tech! I would have contacted you earlier, but I got caught up in my reports. How are you? I hope your vode didn't tease you too bad about getting my private commlink channel.'
Kriff! Oh, this is really happening! Tech lets out a tired and painful groan as he sits upright, resting his back against the ship's wall. He props his holopad up against his knees as he decides on his next set of words. Should he act casual? Be formal? Maybe crack a joke or a cheesy pun? Ah, no! Everybody knows you should be yourself when speaking to a romantic interest, but that's the issue - who even is Tech?
Tech knows who he is in terms of being a soldier, and being an almost never-ending source of knowledge, but this is extremely casual for him. Socialisation is something he does with his brothers, and his brothers alone. Should he speak to you the same way he speaks to his brothers? Or invent a new side for you, and you only?
The nerves in Tech's stomach tighten as he begins typing out his reply, changing almost every other word as he curses himself for anything and everything. It takes him a few, long, solid minutes before he's somewhat happy with his reply, and he decides to hit send then and there. The longer it sits, the more he'll think about it.
'I'm alright, how are you? And, well, they reacted the way you'd expect - excited and overbearing, though I know they mean no harm.'
Ah, there! The first of many messages that he'll share with you. Tech lets out a heavy sigh as he relaxes back against the wall, his holopad falling limp on his lap. Is speaking to someone meant to be this nerve wrecking? Tech knows he's not used to it, but come on, this is ridiculous! He hasn't felt this sick since... well, forever!
Ding! A reply, already? You must have your holopad on hand, or you're eager to talk to him... Tech assumes the first, rather than the second.
'Awh, I'm sorry to hear about the teasing! And I'm good, even better now I've got these reports out of the way. Do you know when you'll next be on Coruscant?'
Tech pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose as he pulls up the Batch's schedule for the next few weeks. They are to report to Coruscant in exactly a week's time, which is both odd and surprising. They're never stationed on Coruscant, and there is no note attached, meaning Tech doesn't know why they'll be there. A vacation, maybe? Doubtful, but the idea is nice.
'Precisely a week today. Would you like to...'
Tech pauses his typing as he questions how he should word things. Are you two going on a date? Meeting up as friends? How the kriff is he meant to word this?! Maker, he's only had a romantic interest for just over a day, and it's already exhausting!
'...would you like to meet up then?'
Yeah, that sounds decent. Tech shrugs as he hits send, and reminds himself to not over-think things. Surely you're just as flustered as he is, right? Such emotions are completely natural; plus, Tech should have seen this coming!
Oh, another fast reply. Tech catches himself smiling as he opens your message.
‘Yeah! What would you like to do?'
Ah, this is the tricky part. Tech knows that the most popular and common date idea is going for dinner, but that isn't really his thing. Plus, he only has so many credits, and although he knows you don't expect him to pay, he still wants to. You two could go out for drinks, but again, that can be costly, and Tech definitely doesn't want to embarrass himself through alcohol. No, he can do that at a later date.
Should he be honest with you? Maybe ask what you'd prefer? Again, Tech still isn't certain that this is a date! Maker, this is so hard...
'If I'm being completely honest, I've never done this before. People don't tend to want to 'hang out' with myself, nor my vode. May I ask what you enjoy doing? Your interests are of interest to me.'
Yeah, being honest is always the best route! Tech puts his holopad down so he can shuffle off his bunk, making his way through the Marauder to get a drink. On the way, he passes Echo, who is snoozing in one of the chairs. Damn, Echo was meant to wake him up so they can rotate!
After grabbing a drink, Tech gently nudges Echo awake, informing him that the bunk is now free. Echo groggily thanks him, and stumbles over to the bunk, ready to fall back asleep at a moment's notice. Tech sets himself up at one of the control panels, and clicks his holopad on, revealing that you've replied.
'Awh, Tech!! Bless you! Your interests are of interest to me, too. There are some great libraries here on Coruscant, is that something you'd like to do?'
Tech softly smiles as he reads your message. It's clear that you're attempting to appeal to him, but Tech knows that if you took him to a library, he'd talk your ears off, or unintentionally ignore you as he gets caught up in all that knowledge.
No, Tech needs something that you two can enjoy together. He pulls up the holoweb and begins searching for activities to do on Coruscant, then clicks on the first result. Coruscant has just about everything you can imagine, but again, most of the suggestions are costly.
And then, something different catches his eye. An aquarium. Hm, well, it's both fun and educational, although Tech worries he won't be able to hold back on relaying facts to you. Regardless, he decides to suggest that idea.
'As much as I would love to go to a library with you, I know that I would not be able to contain myself around such a vast amount of information. The holoweb shows that there is an aquarium not too far from the Jedi Temple. Would you prefer to go there?'
Tech sips on his drink whilst awaiting your reply, looking further into the aquarium. The tickets aren't too expensive, and even cheaper if you book in advance. Whilst reading, your reply appears at the top of Tech's screen, and he pulls your message up.
'That sounds great! I love aquariums, and I haven't been to the one on Coruscant yet because it's quite new. I hope you have lots of cool facts to tell me whilst we're there!'
Tech's eyes turn wide at your message. Are you asking Tech to info-dump? No, surely you can't be. Tech is used to having people tell him to calm down whenever he begins rambling, unleashing the vast knowledge stored in his exceptional mind. He's never had the opposite happen; he's never had someone request for Tech to educate them.
Wanting to be certain, Tech double-check with you.
'Are you requesting that I relay information to you? I've never had someone ask for it before, always the opposite.'
The nerves in Tech's stomach move up to his chest, warming his thumping heart, and Tech thanks his past self for removing his goggles, because they'd definitely be fogged up right now. He's feeling every emotion under the sun, but the two that stand out the most are lovestruck, and confused. Whilst Tech is busy assessing his emotions, you respond, and Tech jumps to open your message, needing to know the answer.
'That's so sad to hear, Tech! Yes, I want you to info-dump on me! I know that you have so much information stored in that clever mind of yours, and I'd love for you to share it. I encourage your 'rambling.''
Maker, you're a dream come true! Tech's grinning from ear to ear as he re-reads your reply, once, twice, a hundred times over. Finally, someone he can share his knowledge with; you're winning his heart, and you two haven't even gone on a date, yet!
'Well, I will ensure that I am well-prepared for our outing. I am looking forward to our date even more!'
Oops. In the heat of the moment, Tech's slipped up, and he realises his mistake the second he hits send. He called it a date, didn't he? Kriff! With his holopad in one hand, Tech's other hand comes up to hide his face, silently cursing himself for his assumption. When he gave you his private comlink channel, he only suggested that you two meet up again in the future, he never said anything about a date!
Well, what's done is done, and Tech continues mentally beating himself up whilst awaiting your reply. Kriff, what if you don't reply? Tech honestly wouldn't blame you. What if you report him for inappropriate behaviour? He'll be decommissioned in no time, and-
Tech can feel his stomach curdling as he sheepishly reads your reply. "Oh..." he mutters.
'I'm looking forward to our date, too! I need to dip off now. Drop me a message when you land on Coruscant, and we'll sort out a time to meet. See you soon, Tech.'
You said it back!! So, it really is a date? Thank the Maker! You two are on the same page, and the sickly feeling in Tech's stomach shifts from regretful, to nervous. Kriff, he's going on a date. Tech, the brains of the Bad Batch, has somehow not only developed a romantic interest in someone, but it's mutual, and now you're going to see if things will work out!
'I'll message you soon. It was lovely speaking to you, stay safe.'
Tech lets out a sigh of relief as he hits send. He finally feels stable enough to finish his drink, and to relax a little. Whilst Tech's occupied with his thoughts and feeling, he doesn't notice his vode shifting in the background. Tech jumps out of his skin when a certain someone speaks up.
Tech spins around in his chair to see Crosshair leaning against the ship's wall, arms crossed over his chest, and a smug grin on his lips. Ah, Crosshair is such an observer, and loves playing into his mysterious trope like the poser that he is.
"You frightened me," Tech states, placing his hand over his chest as he steadies his breathing.
Crosshair chuckles, although he doesn't apologise. Shame on Tech for getting caught up in his holopad, and forgetting about his surroundings.
"Let me guess, she finally messaged you?" Crosshair asks, although it sounds more like a statement.
Tech grumbles and prepares for the worst; Crosshair's teasing should begin at any moment now. "If you must know, yes, she did," Tech replies.
"And?" Crosshair bluntly asks.
"And we have arranged to meet up when we are back on Coruscant next week," Tech adds.
Crosshair chuckles again. He's clearly proud of his brother, and shows it by patting Tech's shoulder. "The top bunk's free, why don't you get some proper rest now that she's spoken to you?"
Wordlessly, Tech rises from his chair and heads for the bunks. Was that it? No teasing? No sarky comments? Just pure acceptance? Tech makes a mental note, stating that Crosshair is safe to talk about his feelings with, if he ever needs to. The last thing Tech wants is torment, and as it seems, Crosshair isn't going to give it.
Finally, with a clear mind, and slowly settling nerves, Tech obtains some proper rest. He has more than enough time to pick out some interesting facts for your date, which is the easy part. The hard part is finding civilian clothing to wear, seeing as it would be rather odd for Tech to show up in his armour. Hm, he'll get to that hurdle when it approaches.
For now, Tech sleeps.
Summary: You want to have sex. Tech wants to play D&D. Compromises are made. Orgasms are achieved.
Pairing: Tech x Female Reader
Tags: D&D, Board games, Roleplay, Orgasm delay/control, Sex toys, Vibrators, Oral (receiving.)
Word count: 1.3k
Notes: Y'all, I have never played D&D before. I want to, but never had a posse to play with. So, my knowledge is slim. Excuse any mistakes. Tech is playing the role of dungeon master AND his own character because there's only 2 of you playing. Also, many thanks to @all-aboard-the-tech-deck for proofreading this, and helping me out with D&D lingo <3
(gif credit to my beloved @kybacrystal)
This build up was meant to be sexy. Meant to be.
As always, Tech has got himself caught up in the more technical side of things, more specifically, the game that you two are playing. You originally came up with the idea, wanting to mix foreplay with one of Tech's favourite board games. Stupid idea, really. Of course, he was going to get sucked into the game!
Tech chalked up most of the rules, with little help from yourself. Honestly, you have no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons, and whenever Tech has attempted to teach you, you've ended up giving up after a few minutes, and distracting him instead. Regardless, you're following Tech's lead, and Tech is, well, he's distracted, but not in the way that you'd prefer.
"-and I have defeated another Nexu within the pack. One more remains, and you must roll Nat 20 in order to defeat them. Your turn, cyar'ika," Tech casually explains as he turns to you, playing both the dungeon master, and his Artificer character. There's only two of you, so you're having to make do, and come up with your own spin-off of the original game.
"Maker," you sigh, barely able to keep your eyes open. You've been fighting this pack of Nexu's for what feels like cycles, and your 'poison damage' isn't helping the situation. This is Tech's handiwork; your 'poison damage' is literally taking a physical toll on you. Tech had decided that, in order to make things realistic, and play into your foreplay fantasy, you should have a bullet vibrator slipped into your panties in order to 'give the effects of poison damage.'
Yeah, the poison damage is obviously not helping your situation. And to make things even worse, it doesn't ware off until the pack is defeated, and you're able to receive 'medical assistance' from Tech.
"I-I..." you stutter, gasping as you look at the campaign in front of you. Karking hell, you're barely able to see straight, let alone focus on your next move and roll the dice. "Uh, okay... I... use my magic staff to create a fireball, and.. augh!"
You can't help but rub your thighs together, attempting to push the vibrating bullet where you need it the most. Tech notices your desperation, and smirks at the sight, "almost there," he coos.
"Tech," you whimper, desperate to climax. All you need is his permission...
"Who is Tech?" Tech blankly questions. Your mouth hangs open as you glare at him, wishing he would snap out of his silly character for just a moment, and give you your release.
"Karking hell," you hiss through gritted teeth. "F-Fine... Sir Cumfrence, I need your help," you grumble, rolling your eyes at his innuendo name.
"With what?" Tech replies, his eyes flicking between your hazy expression, and the way your lower body is twitching desperately.
"I need to c-cum... I mean, this poison damage is too much for me," you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip as the vibrating bullet shifts in your panties and hits just the right spot.
"Cyar'ika, we are in battle. I cannot assist you until the final Nexu has been defeated," Tech shrugs. Ugh, he's mocking you, he's totally mocking you! His tone of voice is oh-so-cocky, so karking smug, and you make a mental note to seek revenge at some point.
With a whine, you finish off your attack move. "A-Alright... I use my magic staff to create a fireball, and shoot it at that karking Nexu's face!"
Tech laughs at your eagerness as you pick up the dice and almost throw it across the room. Tension hangs heavy in the air as it continues to roll, eventually landing on... Nat 20.
You scream! Tears of joy fall from your eyes as the final Nexu is defeated, and you're finally able to receive medical assistance from Tech. "Well done," Tech smirks. "The final Nexu has been defeated, and I am now able to relieve you of your pain."
The words have barely fallen from Tech's lips as he rises from his chair, walking around the game table to approach you. He twirls your chair to the side, and sinks down onto his knees, his hands landing on your thighs with haste. Tech looks up at you through his thick goggles, and continues playing his role, "My lady, please direct me to the area that requires medical attention."
Ugh, this man...
"Here," you explain as you shift your hips forward towards the edge of the seat. With your legs slightly parted, and your skirt raised above your hips, Tech can see the bullet vibrating away beneath your thin panties, now positioned right in front of his face.
"Oh," Tech sighs. Using the pad of his thumb, Tech pushes the bullet against your clit, instantly making you whine. "It seems you've sustained a significant amount of damage," Tech comments as he draws his thumb away, noticing how your slick has soaked through your panties, and has now dampened his thumb.
"Which is why I require immediate attention," you explain, playing into his fantasy.
Tech lets out a shaky breath, and you know that his cock is throbbing in his pants at your words. "Let me," he mutters as he latches his fingers around the hemline of your panties, and pulls them to the side, allowing the bullet to fall onto the chair.
The air is chilling on your slick cunt, and you're relieved that you're no longer being tormented. Using his free hand, Tech turns off the bullet and casts it onto the game table. Your pussy only gets a moment to relax before Tech is tending to your wound by licking a slow, firm stripe over your folds.
"Kriff," you cry out. Tech's been edging you for far too long, and your sensitivity is out of this galaxy. Everything is already too much, and it only worsens as Tech wraps his lips around your clit and begins sucking, his eyes falling shut as he concentrates on his task.
With one hand keeping your panties to the side, the other wraps around your thigh, attempting to keep your legs spread as he works. Tech eases up on your clit, only for his tongue to trail down your folds and slip into your entrance, enjoying the sweet taste of your slick as he fucks you with his tongue.
The lower half of Tech's face is a mess when he eventually moves back up to wrap his lips around your clit again. One of your hands slips into his hair, holding his curls steadily as your legs begin to shake. You're close, and you both know it, but you need something else to help heal you.
Already soaked, Tech manages to slip two fingers into you with ease, instantly curling them up to rub against your sweet spot. Ah, there it is! You moan his name as he continues working away, eventually screaming it as your orgasm washes over you.
Tech doesn't ease up. He continues sucking and licking your clit, his fingers hitting your g-spot over and over. "T-Tech..." you sigh, grasping his hair tighter, watching him continue through half-lidded eyes.
"Mhm?" Tech hums in response, acting oblivious to the way you're trembling in his grasp.
"Too much," you sigh.
Tech, without missing a beat, mutters, "I'm not Tech," against your folds.
Fine, you'll continue playing his silly little game. "Sir Cumfrence," you grumble. Tech peers up at you, still with his lips wrapped around your clit, unfazed by the state that you're in. "I-I no longer require assistance, I'm feeling m-much better now."
"Are you certain?" Tech asks as he eases up. "Poison damage is known to have long-term effects," he explains before slipping his tongue into your entrance, replacing his fingers.
"I'm quite certain," you sigh.
"I believe the poison damage has already begun taking a toll on your current state," Tech comments. "I will continue to heal you, and will inform you once the process is complete. Stay relaxed for me, cyar'ika," Tech explains before returning to his 'healing,' and continues eating you out, putting all focus into his task.
Maker, this is going to be a long game...
Summary: Tech’s been scrolling for hours, wanting to find something specific. His little crush on you constantly sits on his shoulders, heavy enough for him to waste his time finding somebody similar to you, so he can quickly jerk off and go to sleep. But what he wasn’t expecting was to find you specifically, legs spread, your hand between your thighs as you get yourself off proudly on camera.
Pairing: Tech x Female Reader
Tags: Sex work, Mutual pining, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Flirting, Smut, Webcam stream, Dirty talk.
Word count: 3k
Notes: This wasn’t meant to be so long, but it’s turning into a series, isn’t it? Not that I’m complaining... Also, I haven’t really proof-read this so uhhh sorry xx
It's been a week since your little run in with Tech, and he is still yet to look at you with a straight face, and unflushed cheeks. Incredible, this poor man can build and repair anything you give him, but can't reboot his brain after he's been flirted with.
Thank the Maker that he's currently refined to his room, because his brain is about to malfunction again as he loads the holoweb, and heads straight to your private corner. The page takes its time to load, and Tech drums his fingers impatiently against the side of his holopad, only for his face to light up when your page finally loads. Ah, you've posted something new!
However, this new post isn't a video, or a set of lewd photos. Nope, it's a status update with information that makes Tech's stomach nervously spin.
'You guys asked for it - no, begged for it! I'll be doing a livestream tonight, starting at 7pm Coruscant Local Time. Make sure you stop by ;)'
First off, holy maker. You're going to be streaming?! Everything you post makes Tech's cock throb uncontrollably, but to see it happening live? And know that you're mere meters away, hidden behind a wall, doing all of this? Wow.
Second, it makes sense for you to be livestreaming tonight. Nights off are rare for the Batch, so you might as well thoroughly enjoy them, and hopefully make some cash on the side. Everybody had opted for a lazy night, rather than heading into the city; the Batch are exhausted, and rest is a rarity amongst these parts. Might as well enjoy it whilst you can, or at least pretend to.
And finally, Tech is, of course, going to be tuning in. Checking his clock, Tech realises that he has just under 6 hours to wait, and no doubt, they're going to be the slowest 6 hours of his life. Sure, he can fill up his time by finalising a few repairs that he's been putting off, but his mind is going to be over-flowing with thoughts of you, and not watching the clock is going to be an attachment that he cannot break.
If only there were a way to skip time...
Ah, finally! It's almost time for your stream. You excused yourself earlier, informing the others that you were going to go and call some of your long-distance friends. Huh, well, that's not exactly a lie, but still far from the truth. Minutes later, Tech said he wasn't feeling well, and was turning in for the night. As always, nobody paid any thought to his quick dismissal, and Tech let out a sigh of relief as he entered his room, locking his door behind him. Everything is prepared for tonight. Tech has drinks and snacks at the ready, he's wearing comfortable clothes, and is currently sliding a cock ring onto his already-throbbing length in hopes of dragging his first of many orgasms out, wanting to last for your entire stream. Tech has his holopad resting against his knee, his cock pressed against his bare stomach, and his back relaxed in a bundle of pillows. He heads straight to your private corner, and joins the stream link. You're yet to come online, and he can see that he's not alone; other patrons are also waiting, and Tech smiles to himself at the knowledge that none of these suckers know you personally, nor will they ever get the chance of getting to know you on more than a client level. Well, Tech knows you as well as he can. Maybe he'll pluck up the courage to flirt with you one day, and this time, he won't make a fool of himself. That's happened countless times before he finally gave up, and yet, you still continue sending cheeky comments and alluring glances his way. Oh, you're online! Tech's thrilled to see that you've dolled yourself up tonight, soon to become a debauched, messy, whining mess. You're wearing a wine red lingerie set, the Batch's colour, of course. You're positioned comfortably on your bed, with a wireless keyboard and mouse nearby so you can control the session, and there's a large box on your opposite side - a box of sex toys, perhaps? "Kriff, I didn't think there was going to be people waiting for me!" you say with a laugh, looking at the numbers flocking to your room. "All eager for a piece of me, huh?" you ask with a raised brow, and a flirtatious glisten in your eyes. Tech's seen that face before. You gave him that look the other week when you returned his shirt - the shirt you wore during a video - followed by complimenting his figure, and pouting because he hides all of it behind his armour. Well, he's seen it countless times before, but that was the most recent event. Tech smirks to himself at your cheeky and colourful personality, admiring how you exaggerate your persona whilst on the camera. You really have your selling point down to a tee, don't you? The chat begins flooding with replies; typical responses, various compliments, fawning messages, and the odd guy requesting for you to strip and cum already. Ugh, so impatient, so improper. Your eyes flick over to the screen as you read said replies, and you laugh as you comment, "I was going to leave this lingerie on. I like it," you shrug. "Plus, I can just pull my panties to the side," you say with a wink. Yet again, the chat fills up with saucy messages, and Tech questions how you can deal with this on the daily. It's all for the money, he assumes, and the fun that you find along the way. "Let's start off with something simple, alright?" you inform your viewers. You reach into the box beside you and pull out two dildos, both vastly different from each other. Holding them up, you say, "vote which one I should start with, and the most votes wins!" A poll option appears in the corner of Tech's screen, and he smiles to himself at how organised you are. Smart woman. However, he's almost certain that he taught you this, along with many other things, a few months ago? You've asked for many lessons off Tech, and he's always happy to share his knowledge, but he's shared so much that he's lost track of what he's actually taught you! No bother, regardless, he's proud! Tech clicks the option for the red one, his colour, and watches as the numbers roll in. "The red one, ah, of course," you laugh. The other dildo is placed back into the box, and so, your show begins. --- A handful of minutes have passed, and you've just experienced the first of many orgasms tonight. You're already a stuttering mess, letting out heavy breaths as you slowly peel yourself up off the bed, returning to a sitting position as you cast your dildo into your 'to wash' pile. Tech has one hand holding his holopad, and the other against his mouth. He's biting his knuckles, whimpering into them as he fights his release. The cock ring is helping, but his urge for release is almost overwhelming, and Tech wants to edge himself as much as possible. Wanting to kill his mood slightly, he decides to read the comments flooding your stream. To his surprise, it's not as bad as expected, mostly filled with praise and words of affection. Tech distracts himself as he skims through them, checking on you every so often as you continue coming down from your high, also reading the chat. One particular comment catches your eye, 'your boyfriend is so lucky.' You let out a nervous laugh, with a thick tint of sadness to it. "I don't have a boyfriend," you reply, and await the thirsty comments. Some people don't believe you, others are asking where to submit their applications, but you decide to reply to the comment, 'why not?' "I dunno," you shrug. "I'm not great at initiating relationships, let alone hooking up with people." Of course, your viewers are doubting you. There's no way a woman such as yourself is single, let alone has a dead sex life. "It's the truth, I promise," you awkwardly laugh again, shaking your head softly at their doubts. If only they knew. One person asks what you do for work, and you respond, "I'm a medic for the GAR." 'Why don't you hook up with one of those clones? I see them everywhere, can't get rid of them!' "They are hot, aren't they?" you smile. "Whoever picked out the man to clone definitely had taste." 'So, you've not hooked up with any of them?' another stranger asks. "Nope," you confirm with a shake of your head. It's a painful question to answer, but entirely the truth - promise! Tech feels his stomach settle at your words. You haven't? He's thrilled, but also surprised. Tech knows how his vode view you, along with all the regular clones that you've interacted with in the past. He's both seen and heard the compliments you've received, and he assumed that at least one lucky trooper would have managed to weave his way into your bed. Huh, maybe it's a sign? Tech's poor stomach only gets a moment of peace before it turns into a nervous mess again, as he notices the chat flooding with the same question. 'Would you?' Instantly, a cheeky smile appears on your lips. "Of course," you flirt. "But not with any random Trooper. Sure, they're cute, but I have a type." Kriff. Tech lets out a deep, nervous breath. His cock is torn between softening from anxiety, or remaining hard from the thrill that you might be into him. Then again, he has four vode that you also interact with on the daily, and Tech knows that he's not the most alluring man out there. However, despite his doubt, you're always within arms reach of him, sending words of praise his way as you peer over his shoulder at his work, or make heart eyes on the battlefield when you see him fire his twin blasters with ease. Of course, the chat is overflowing with questions. 'What is your type?' is the main one. You sweetly smile, biting back a cheeky grin as you think your next set of words through with caution. Decisions, decisions. "There are so many types to pick from..." you begin cooing, putting on an obvious thinking face by raising your hand to your chin. "I mean, all the clones are handsome, but we already know that," you continue with a shrug. "I'm fond of all of them, but one specific type stands out for me." 'Tell us already!' an impatient patron cries out, attempting to express his frustration through emojis. Teasing your views even more, you continue pondering. A flirtatious glisten appears in your eyes as you look deep into the camera, and proudly exclaim, "to answer your question, I'm a sapiosexual." Tech feels his heart burst. Holy kriff, a sapiosexual?! He did hear that correctly, didn't he? Tech, of course, knows the definition of this word, but he whips open a new tab to confirm that he truly does. His hands are shaking as he furiously types the word into the search bar, almost mistyping it, and his heart bursts again as he reads out the definition. ‘Sapiosexuality means that a person is sexually attracted to highly intelligent people, so much so that they consider it to be the most important trait in a partner.' Tech can't close his mouth, he physically can't. It's hanging open as the colour drains from his tanned face, pooling in his stomach and spinning his nerves furiously. You're into him?! You must be, not unless there's another highly intelligent man out there that he doesn't know about. With heavy breaths, and shaky hands, Tech closes his new tab and returns to your stream. A few seconds have passed, and you're now giggling as the chat floods with confused questions. Tech's eyes roll as he reads the comments; of course, these idiots don't know what sapiosexual means! "It means I'm attracted to intelligence," you explain, biting back the urge to mock them playfully. You continue reading through the replies; a few viewers are attempting to convince you that they're intelligent enough to date you, others are laughing at themselves for being ruled out. However, one comment catches your eye, and you mutter it under your breath as you read, ‘do you know any intelligent men?' "One, actually," you say with a smile. Tech's heart flutters, specifically at your smile - it's not cheeky and flirtatious like you have been throughout the stream, but sweet and pure, a smile that shows you're proud to know him. 'Have you tried it on with him yet?' a viewer asks, to which you firmly shake your head. "I want to," you reply. Hoards of viewers ask what's stopping you, and you can't help but shrug. Really, what is stopping you? "Fear, I guess. The fear that he'll reject me." ‘He won't reject you!' a viewer calls out, followed by many similar replies. You sarcastically roll your eyes, admiring their confidence in you. If only you had that in yourself. It's funny, isn't it? How you can present yourself like this in front of hundreds of people, but can't walk across the Marauder's hall, knock on Tech's door, and admit your attraction to him. 'Go and do it right now,' one stranger orders, followed by another saying 'go and kriff him!' "I don't think he'd want to do that," you laugh. "He's kinda shy," you explain, thinking about how Tech would really react if you came onto him. 'Ask him if you can use him as a stunt cock for your stream,' one patron suggests. Huh, not a bad idea. It's a nice though, a good fantasy idea, but realistically, Tech would never say yes. Hell, how are you even meant to ask that? Oh Hey, Tech, do you mind if you join me for one of my streams? No, it's not a gaming stream, I'm going to suck you dry instead! Yeah, hmm, you doubt he'd be down for that... Unless? The chat is agreeing to that one suggestion, claiming that they would all be interested if their crush appeared out of nowhere and asked to use them as a stunt cock. Your stomach twists and turns nervously at the idea, but your nervousness isn't the only thing that's arising. Confidence is burning in your chest, and adrenaline is eager to take over. What's the harm in trying? "Do you guys really think he would say yes?" you ask. Seriousness is strong in your voice, laced with concern, and as always, your viewers are supportive and understanding. Tech watches as the chat floods with approval. His heart is racing, pounding in his chest, eager to burst through his rib cage. This is happening right now, isn't it? He's not trapped in another wild fantasy - you really are sitting on your bed, a few rooms away from Tech's, debating on whether you should march over here and ask to kriff him. Maker. Something takes over Tech; confidence, nervousness, adrenaline, he isn't quite sure what it is, but it urges him to encourage you in some way. Sure, you don't know it's him, but maybe the force or whatever will help guide you to him.
'You should, I'm certain that he would,' Tech types out, then instantly cringes as he hits send. Kriff, well, it's in the chat now. Tech sheepishly watches as you continue reading the chat, and he's almost certain that your head tilts slightly to the side, and your eyes widen after he sends his message. "You all seem so sure," you comment. After pondering for a few seconds more, you straighten your back, put a smile on your lips, and begin fluffing up your appearance as you state, "alright, I'll give it a shot." Tech sinks down into his bed, his still erect cock brushing against his bare stomach. There's no way this is really happening, right?! He watches as you continue fixing your appearance, finishing up by slipping a silk gown over your lingerie, barely covering your body. He's seen you in that gown before, it's one of your favourites; you've worn it around the ship here and there, but mostly keep it in your room, hidden for those private moments with yourself where you want to feel sexy. "I'm going to leave the camera on whilst I go and ask him. If I come back in tears, then don't be surprised," you half-jokingly state, wagging your finger at the camera as you talk. You swiftly mutter, "wish me luck," under your breath before forcing your weight off the bed, disappearing from the camera's view. Tension clogs up the air as Tech reminds himself that this is happening, it's really happening. He places his holopad down on his bed, only to realise that his cock is still out and painfully hard, with a cock ring wrapped around the base. Kriff! Springing to his feet, Tech begins attempting to remove the cock ring whilst checking his appearance in his small mirror. Oh, of course, he's an absolute state right now. His curls are a mess, barely held behind his goggles, resting on his forehead. His cheeks are a deep shade of red from a mixture of embarrassment, arousal, frustration, and so forth. Tech's entire body is slightly sweaty from his work-out, although edging ones self to the point of over-stimulation may not be seen like a work-out in some people's eyes. Overall, Tech decides that you definitely can't see him in this state without knowing what he's been up to, especially with this cock ring still wrapped around his length! Kriff, why won't it slide off?! If Tech took a moment to pause and take a deep breath, then his hazy mind would realise that he simply needs to carefully roll the ring off his cock, but he's in over-drive right now, and can't think straight with the knowledge that you're going to be here at any min- Knock knock! Tech's stomach drops as he hears you knock on his door. He's standing frantically in the middle of his room, shirtless, his sweatpants hugging his thighs, with his cock out, and a cock ring stuck around the base of his flustered shaft. Kriff! Now what?
Touch me (not)
Echo x gender neutral reader
Summary: You’re not having a great body day, but Echo’s here to reassure and validate you
Content tags: body image talk, insecurities
Read it on AO3 here
One of the reasons you enjoyed hyperspace, was because it allowed for downtime. After all, there was nothing much to do when being stuck within the same metal walls for a long time. As such, you had once again found yourself in Echo’s bunk, cuddling up together while watching a holovideo.
The two of you hadn’t been together for long, although the rest of the batch would argue it had been a long time coming. They’d still tease you about it whenever they had the chance. You were currently cuddled up on his left side, your arm around his waist and your head resting on his chest. He would ocassionally kiss the top of your head, a small gesture that made your heart melt every time.
But then his hand slid under your shirt, an innocent gesture, really. You knew how he craved skin to skin touch, it grounded him and reminded him he was still human. But your skin crawled at the feeling, and you took his hand, gently, and moved it out from under your shirt, and unto the fabric instead.
“I’m— not having a good body day ,” you started, hesitating as you looked down, avoiding eye contact. You didn’t have to explain, but you felt bad, so you still did. “You know I love it when you’re affectionate, and I know you prefer it, but I—” Nibbling on your bottom lip, you curled in on yourself. “I can’t do skin to skin right now, sorry.”
Echo just wrapped his arm around you, over your shirt, and pulled you closer, his scomp link lifting your chin up to look at him. “Cyare, you never have to apologize for how you feel. I’d rather you be honest to me about your boundaries, then end up making you uncomfortable.”
He sighed, a soft chuckle following as he continued. “When I just got back from Skako Minor, I absolutely hated being touched, by anyone. Had a downright panic attack at the medical exam, because being touched reminded me of what they did to me.” He gripped you a little tighter, and you kissed his jaw, bringing a soft smile to the pale clone’s face.
“I had to relearn affection, and become comfortable again with my body, and its changes. Remember how I pulled away from you when you would rest your hand on my shoulder?” You nodded, remembering how you thought he was disgusted by you, but learning quickly that was not the case, and that it was not just with you.
“So you never have to feel bad about having a bad body day, or for not wanting to be touched a certain way. Communicate it to me, and I will respect it.” His flesh hand slid up to your shoulder, thumb caressing you over fabric as he looked at you with the most adoring look in his beautiful brown eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re the most beautiful and amazing person I have ever laid eyes on.”
You felt yourself tear up, reaching up as you cupped his cheek, letting your lips meet his. It was moments like these that reminded you that despite your own insecurities, you were someone worthy. Worthy of deserving love, and support. Echo made sure to remind you of that whenever you felt low, and you did the same for him.
Because after all, if anyone would understand how you felt, it’d be Echo.
Summary: It's hard not to lock yourself away in your room after a bombardment of negative events, but Tech is here to provide warmth, comfort, and a hot cup of tea. Pairing: Tech x Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) Reader Description: Reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of their appearance. Word count: 1.6k Tags: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Cuddles, Tea, Literally sleeping together. Notes: October as a whole has been awful for me. So much is going on in my life right now, and it's been one negative thing after another. Needless to say, I feel like shit... I couldn't find many comfort fics for my favourite boy, so I decided to fill in that gap.
When it rains, it pours, just like the permanent weather on Kamino. The rain is always soothing, even in times like this, where you feel as if you cannot escape it. Thankfully, you're confined to your private barracks - a small room with a single bed, barely big enough to fit yourself and your hoard of pillows, inanimate objects that supply artificial comfort.
Well, they provide physical comfort, but we're talking the emotional type.
Nonetheless, they help, as does the rain, especially in times like this. You're used to having the odd negative thing happen here and there, but this? This is something else, an overbearing wave that's drowned you, and now, out of breath, you're sinking beneath its surface.
It's somewhat cynical to lock yourself away like this, staying in your room like a broody teenager, but what is there to talk about? Yes, people are there for you, but you've never been one to chew someone's ear off, or cry on their shoulder. You'll happily rant here and there, but if you can prevent opening that bottle, then you'll continue to do so until it cracks.
For now, you continue watching the storm brew outside whilst cooped up in your bed, bundled in a consoling hoard of blankets. You're so engulfed in the sights and sounds that you don't notice the knock on your door, until said stranger outside repeats it.
Rolling over, you call out, "it's open."
The door slides open, revealing a Trooper that you weren't expecting. Tech enters and instantly makes his way over to you, placing a hot cup of tea on your night stand. His eyes meet yours, and they're swarming with sympathy as he realises just how much of a state you're in.
"I'd ask how you're feeling, but given how you appear right now, I assume you're not doing well," Tech questions.
All you can do is softly nod, followed by gesturing to the cup of tea with your eyes as you mutter, "thank you."
"No problem," Tech says with a smile. "Do you... require comfort? I know I may not be able to provide it on a high level, like Wrecker can, but I'm certain I can at least make you feel less lonesome."
Oh, Tech and his way with words. Speaking of Wrecker, you're surprised he hasn't come to check on you. You denied his offer of training earlier, something you two always do together, just like you've denied everything over the last few days. Maybe Tech insisted that he checks on you for a reason, and maybe he's much better at providing comfort than he's letting on.
"You can join me, if you'd like," you confirm.
Tech stands there awkwardly for a brief moment, the cogs turning in his mind as he realises that you've just invited him to curl up in bed with you. His body physically stutters as he goes to enter, and then remembers that he's fully armoured, minus his helmet. "One moment," Tech mumbles with a finger raised, before going through the mind-numbing process of removing his armour.
It's hard not to smile at his quirkiness, and how tense he seems as he shyly shuffles into bed with you. With his hands on his chest, and the covers barely covering him, Tech looks over at you and asks, "w-would you like to... uh, it seems that physical contact has a healing factor, and-"
"-Yes, Tech, I would like to cuddle," you softly laugh.
"Ah, yes, that's the word. Cuddle," Tech repeats. He outstretches his arm, and with it, you curl up against him, resting your head in the curve of his neck, his arms wrapping around your waist comfortingly.
"What were you going to call it?" you ask.
"I'm unsure, I hadn't fully thought it through... enfold, I guess," Tech replies as he pulls the covers up, tucking them around both of your bodies, ensuring that you're as snug as you can be.
Once again, you laugh, burying your face into his chest. Tech smiles at the sight, knowing that this is probably the first time you've smiled in days, let alone laughed. He can't help but pull you tighter against his chest, hoping that, if he's here, then he can at least distract you with laughter.
However, Tech is concerned, just as concerned as the others, and would like to at least offer an outlet to your problems. He clears his throat, and asks the dreaded question of, "is there anything you'd like to talk about?"
Your silence is more than enough to answer Tech's question, and he begins back peddling instantly. "I'm sorry, I assumed that-"
"-It's alright," you sigh. "I know you're offering support, I just... I don't know what to say, or where to even begin," you explain, pressing your face into Tech's chest in an attempt to hide your pained expression.
"I understand," Tech coos. A gentle hand comes up to stroke your hair, lightly massaging your scalp before his fingertips trail through the ends. "I've found that talking about your problems only works for some people, not all of us," he adds.
Us. The word rings through your ears as you come to realise something. "Do you not like talking about your problems either?" you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes.
Tech's mouth turns downwards, and he decides that he'd much rather stare at your door. "It can be hard to," he replies. "I used to assume that the Kaminoans had drilled that mindset into us, but given that some Troopers prefer to talk about their problems, my assumption is wrong."
"Hm," you hum as you give Tech a squeeze. His frown disappears, and his expression vanishes from your line of sight as he rests his cheek against the crown of your head. "There's nothing wrong with it, or at least, that's what I tell myself."
"I tell myself the same thing. No bother, we're built like this, and that cannot be changed," Tech replies, still mindlessly playing with your hair.
He's right, things like this can't be changed. Your mindset can't be changed, just like this series of events. What's done is done, and all you can do now is continue moving forward, and hope that things get better for you. Sure, wallowing in self-pity is fun every now and again, and perfect for when everything is too much. However, staying in said pit will only worsen things in the long run, and it's about time you pull your socks up, and start pushing through the darkness.
"Oh," Tech sighs, breaking the short silence. "Your tea," he mumbles, and removes his hand from your hair to pick up the mug, carefully bringing it over to you.
Peeling yourself from Tech, you take the mug into your grasp and begin sipping it. Perfect, it's just how you like it, and you wouldn't be surprised if Tech has watched how you make your tea, just so he can perfect it for times like this. You soon pass the half-full mug over, and he puts it back on the night stand.
Tech subconsciously smiles as you weave into his grasp, cuddling up to him again. You've had your fair share of physical contact with your boys, and you're no stranger to lounging about with them, having naps together and so forth. However, Tech isn't always one for physical contact; he's not much of a people person, and contact of any kind can often leave him feeling nauseous and anxious. Maybe he needs this just as much as you do?
The hand that was once playing with your hair now finds its way to your back, and Tech dances his fingertips along your clothed figure, providing as much comfort as he can. His cheek returns to resting on the crown of your head, and you smile to yourself as you feel his goggles bump against you; why he wears them to bed is beyond you, so you decide to ask.
"Would you be more comfortable if you took your goggles off?" you ask.
"Hm? Oh, yes," Tech sighs. The hand on your back moves to grasp his lenses, and he shakes his head softly as he pulls them off, setting them on the night stand. He runs his hand through his curls, attempting to fluff-up the areas where his goggles permanently sit, leaving a dent in his hair, and soon gives up once he realises that there's no way he can fix it.
You gaze up at him, biting back a laugh at the deep, red rings around his eyes from where his goggles sit. You're almost certain he has tan lines too, but you hold back on telling him, not wanting to embarrass him. He almost looks like an entirely different person without his most prized possession, revealing his warm, auburn eyes - now looking at you with a soft smile as he asks, "what?"
"Your goggles have left indents," you laugh.
Tech sarcastically rolls his eyes as he replies, "a small price to pay for protection."
You cuddle into Tech's grasp even tighter. He rests his cheek on top of your head once more, his hand returning to dancing along your back, whilst the smile on his lips matches yours. There's a warm sensation in your chest, something that you haven't felt in days, possibly weeks, given the recent turn of events. Who would have thought that Tech would be the man to help pull you out of your self-loathing pit, and bundle you in his arms.
Silence fills the air again, but not the unsettling type. There's warmth and admiration all around you, both physically and emotionally, and the one providing it is biting back at dozing off in your small, single bed. Why not join him? You both deserve a nap, some well-needed rest, and this is the perfect opportunity for it.
As always, the rain continues trickling down your window, the storm continues raging away, and Tech continues holding you close as you both doze off together, finding warmth and solace in each other.
Summary: Short on money, your mother resorts to the last of her options: selling you. (gender-neutral Reader)
Word count: 895
Notes: I came out of my hiatus just to post this... here, take it!
Beep Beep! Beep Beep!
Shit! Oh, for fuck’s sake. Your alarm is going off, and you're bundled beneath the covers, not wanting to attend school today. Fuck, that beeping sound is so fucking annoying, so you begrudgingly stick an arm out and manage to turn it off, only to retreat back into your cozy cove.
A few minutes pass as you enjoy the warmth, mentally preparing yourself for everything that you need to do today. Getting up is a chore in itself, and school is... well, you know how it is. Fucking awful, is how it is. At least your homework is done... what's the point in homework anyway? Surely there must be an issue with the system if you're having to go home and learn, rather than leaning at school?
Hang on... was that your first alarm, or second? The second should be going off by now?!
"FUCK!" you scream as you peer out of the covers to see the time. You're late, oh, what a surprise!
Well, the bed isn't going to be made this morning. Time is precious, even more so when you're running late and having to rush your morning routine. Clothes are thrown on, your hair is somewhat brushed and styled, books are yeeted into your backpack just before it's flung over your shoulders. Oh, shit, yeah, you need to brush your teeth! You manage to do that whilst slipping on your shoes, and finally, you're begrudgingly ready.
Running down the stairs, you slide into the kitchen, throwing a piece of toast into the toaster as some form of breakfast. "Come on, come on, come on," you chant over and over as you watch the bread turn brown.
"Honey!" your mother calls out from the lounge.
"I know!" you shout back, certain that she's going to inform you that you're late.
"Come in here, please. I need to talk to you," she calls back.
Oh, fuck, now what? As your toast finishes toasting, you begin running through everything awful that you've done this past week - or everything that your mother deems awful.
Well, the bins have been taken out, and the washing up is always done. Yeah, your beds not made, but she hasn't discovered that... yet. Shit, did you close all of your tabs on the computer last night? Fuck, hopefully she didn't discover that cursed hellsite that you waste all of your time on.
Your mom calls out your name, and thankfully, your toast pops out at the same time. "Coming!" you scream back as you pick up your toast, bouncing the hot piece of double-cooked bread between your hands as you attempt to cool it down, before scoffing the first of many bites into your mouth.
You turn the corner, entering the lounge, only for your soul to leave your body, as you're met by a sight that you never thought you'd see.
Everybody looks awkward, mostly yourself, and your mother is putting on her best fake smile as she begins explaining things. "Sweetie, you know how tight we are on bills..." she begins explaining.
"Yeah..." you lightly nod, attempting to keep your gaze locked onto hers, rather than the five armoured men sitting in your lounge.
"And, well, I had to resort to something that I didn't want to do, but I think it's for the best..."
Wait. Fuck. Did she...? Nooo, surely not?
You've read about this scenario a thousand times before - a myth, a tale, the story of legends. This scenario is oh-so-familiar, and yet, so foreign to you. It's absurd, the idea in itself, and yet here you are, experiencing it right now.
"I tried to sell you to that boy band that you like, but their applications have been overflowing for years. These men were more than happy to take you on," your mother smiles, gesturing to the broody bunch that you've been obsessed with, ever since they were introduced during the end of The Clone Wars.
"If that's alright with you," Hunter nods, finally meeting your gaze.
In shock, you drop your poor piece of toast. There goes your breakfast, the most important meal of the day, now being eaten off the floor by your dog, who is unfazed by the entire scenario. You're not only out of fucks to give, but words, too. I mean, what are you meant to reply? How are you meant to react? This entire scenario is just... wow.
"You dropped your toast," Wrecker points out, breaking the long, awkward silence as they await your reply.
"I told you this was a bad idea," Echo scoffs, attempting to keep his words hushed.
"I second that," Tech chimes in as he barely looks up from his datapad. What else were you expecting?
Hunter's gaze flicks between your mother, and you, and she attempts to encourage you. "I thought you liked these men?" she asks.
Shit. Okay, she's definitely discovered your search history. That, in itself, is a crime, but hopefully she hasn't told them about it. Surely she wouldn't do that... right?
"We don't bite," Crosshair chuckles from the back of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, they don't," he adds under his breath.
Hunter lets out a heavy sigh as he looks at you, and asks the most important question that you'll ever be asked.
"So... you wanna come with us?"
Summary: With the Batch heading into town to collect supplies, you’re left alone on the Marauder, giving you the perfect opportunity to enjoy a shower, and relieve your pent-up feelings. However, Tech forgot his holopad, and he’s met with a pretty sight, and even prettier words falling from your lips when he heads back to retrieve it. Pairing: Tech x Reader Reader Description: Reader is male and uses he/him pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of his appearance. Word count: 5k Tags: Masturbation, Smut, Oral (receiving), sub!Reader, dom!Tech, Praise kink, Dirty talk, Semi-public sex, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, First time. Notes: I really wanted to write some dominant Tech, but I have NO idea if he’s in character here, so I’d appreciate any reassurance/feedback <3
Female Reader Version is here!
The Havoc Marauder is named that for a reason, as wherever you and the Batch goes, havoc seems to follow... but not today! This is a rarity - having a day to relax and unwind. The Batch has wandered into a local town to pick up supplies, as well as go sightseeing, unwind, and so on. You opted to stay in the ship, giving a brief explanation that you wanted some 'me time.' They didn't question your decision, but frorm the faces they pulled, you assume they thought you simply wanted to jerk off.
Actually, all you wanted was a shower. (However, jerking off is also on your to-do list, but not yet!)
And that's exactly what you're having right now. Music is blasting throughout the ship, the refresher door is wide open to let the steam out, and you're screaming your lungs out in a poor attempt of singing along to the music.
Once done and dusted, your words die down to mumbles as you put your focus into drying yourself off, but something crosses your mind, or better yet, your crotch. It's been kriff-knows how long since you last masturbated, as finding a moment alone is tough, and with being on the move, it's not like you can book yourself a hotel room or even pop into a brothel.
Why not? After all, this is me time!
So, the shower is turned on again, and you hop back in, ready to tire yourself out in this cosy setting. You get to work on your self-indulgent mission, hitting every target that you pass, building your orgasm at your own pace. It's no surprise that your mind wanders, focusing on the things you enjoy, along with the people that take your fancy.
The Batch are desirable in every aspect, and unique in their own individual ways. You've thrown a few playful and flirtatious comments their way, and you've been met with an array of responses, a mixture between flustered faces, and bold comments in return. But what if you had to pick one of them? What if they're not down to share you like in your fantasies? Who would you pick?
Whilst lazily stroking yourself, you ponder on your spoilt-for-choice options. Decisions, decisions... As you think, you touch yourself more firmly, faster, harder, letting your mind decide who's hand you wish was around your cock right now.
In some ways, you knew who you'd go for all along, but there's no harm in taking a dip in other waters. Tech's name slips from your lips, and it sounds perfect in this heated setting. So, you repeat it, again and again whilst moaning away, not bothering to keep the noise down. You're home alone, so why should you? The Batch is going to be out for hours, plus they've only just set off! They won't be back so soon!
Hm, what would Tech be like? What is he hiding under that plastoid armour? You've overheard that the clones are blessed in many ways, and that Jango Fett was quite the donor; but would his blessing continue through mutated clones? Tech isn't exactly like the regs, who are bold, flirtatious, and dominant, but also posses a soft, mushy, and submissive side.
Thinking about it, Tech doesn't seem like the dominant type at all. You've cast a few flirtatious remarks his way, and you've usually been met with rosy cheeks and stuttering words. But what if he's just shy? What if, at first, he's nervous and uncertain if you're being serious? And say if you did make a move on him, and reassured him that you're serious, would his personality flip, and you discover that he's a man who knows exactly what he wants, and the ways in which he's going to take it?
You're practically screaming as you cum, Tech's name coming out through sobs and groans, wishing he was here with you under this shower, thrusting up into you whilst he has you pinned to the wall, legs around his waist, lips locked onto yours. Maker. The thought is so desirable that you debate having another round, but you've already used up enough water, and if you need to, then you can make do on your bunk.
Finally, you exit the shower, and with wobbly, post-orgasm legs, you begin drying yourself off. You follow your usual routine, and with the towel wrapped around your waist, you exit the refresher, ready to fish out some comfortable clothes to throw on as you continue your 'me time.'
Going through your locker, you pull out some clothing and throw it onto your bunk. You're about to drop your towel and begin getting dressed, until something in the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you almost scream as you lock sights with Tech, who is attempting to quietly sneak through the ship, escaping his accidental invasion of your privacy.
Tech, mid-creep, freezes and pulls an embarrassed expression, almost dropping his helmet in the process. There's a long and awkward pause, you're standing there in a towel, and Tech in full armour. As the silence goes on, Tech's face continues turning red, until he eventually hits limit and attempts to break the silence by stating, "I forgot my holopad." He raises his other hand, wiggling the device.
You stutter, uncertain on what to reply, until you eventually settle on "oh," followed up with "h-how long have you been back for?"
"How precise of an answer would you like?" Tech questions, his form slowly relaxing.
His words have essentially answered your question - you know what he must have overheard, every single detail of it. Every. Single. Detail.
But you still need that confirmation, plus, you're wickedly curious to see what his reaction will be. "I want a Tech level of precision," you reply.
"In that case..." Tech pauses as he pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose, staring at the floor as his mind ticks away. "I estimate I have been in your unknowing presence for just over five minutes."
Yep, he definitely overheard all of that... "And were you in a soundproof part of the ship? The cockpit, maybe?"
"The cockpit isn't soundproof, no rooms in this ship are," Tech states as he uses the edge of his holopad to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. "I understand what you are referring to..."
There's an open window, and you decide to push on, eager for his reaction. You're expecting the worst, maybe Tech will run off and ignore you for the rest of your life, or maybe you can flip this around and give yourself a real reason to moan.
"Go on," you push.
"I overheard you calling for me. Well, I assumed you were, but then as I approached the refresher, I came to realize what you were... actually doing," Tech explains. As his sentence finishes, his eyes move from the floor to gaze at you, reading your reaction just as much as you're reading his. Yet again, there's a pause, and you're oddly lost for words. Tech fills in the silence.
"I never thought that you would view me like that. My assumptions have always been that you would be into someone more like Hunter, not myself, and that your previous flirtatious comments have been nothing more than jokes, considering you speak that way to all of us."
"I uh..." you stutter, and after gulping, you manage to find your words. "I know my style can be considered flirtatious, but everything I've ever said to you, Tech, I've meant it."
"Promise?" Tech questions.
"Promise," you confirm with a soft nod.
Tech's eyes flick into the distance, and from the way his leg is lightly bouncing, you know he's pondering on his thoughts. He spends a few, brief moments questioning what comes next, and the first thing that you notice when he turns back to you is how blown his pupils suddenly are.
"So, you were being truthful when you requested a piloting lesson with yourself sitting on my lap?" Tech questions.
You can't help but laugh, surprised that that scenario was the first thing to pop up in Tech's mind. "Yes, I was," you nod.
Tech surprisingly laughs along with you, his body relaxing as his laughter fades out. He looks at you with a smile, but his expression quickly turns stern, and he approaches you. In reality, his walk over to you is only a few steps, but the tension in the air makes it feel so much further, so much longer.
Tech's stood in front of you, his eyes politely fixated on yours, rather than gazing over your barely covered-up body. Tech's helmet and holopad are chucked onto a nearby bunk, his hands falling loosely at his sides. He clears his throat before speaking, and his tone of voice alone is enough to make you shiver, not to mention the words that take you by surprise.
"Well, you called out for me, and now I'm here. Are you still in need of my assistance? Or are you a big boy who can satisfy himself?"
"Tech..." you whimper, gasping at his boldness. "I'm always in need of your assistance," you reply, taking a step forward, almost pressing your chest against Tech's.
"Oh, I know," Tech lightly chuckles, referring to the amount of times you've pestered him over 'minor inconveniences.' "Let's start off with removing your towel. Go on, that's an order," Tech commands, but his tone of voice is still sweet. His words are dominating, similar to the tone of voice he uses whenever he's correcting someone; it's somewhat smug, but you can understand Tech becoming smug whenever he gets the opportunity to flex his exceptional mind.
With a non-verbal reply, you allow the towel to fall from your figure, pooling around your ankles, revealing your nude form to Tech. He groans at the sight, gloved hands reaching out to knead all over you. One of his hands moves up your body, massaging your chest, whilst the other moves down to grab your bum. Tech's eyes are glued to your figure, gawking through tinted lenses at your beauty.
"All for me," Tech mutters under his breath.
"All for you," you nod. Your comment draws Tech's eyes up to yours, and his brows softly furrow as his dominant persona reappears.
"Tell me, cyar'ika, why was my name falling from your lips earlier?" Tech questions, one hand moving from your body to push his goggles back up the bridge of his nose, before settling on your waist.
"I..." you stutter, struggling to maintain eye contact. "I was masturbating in the shower, and... I got off to you."
"Tell me all the details. I want to know how needy you are. However, I have already come to the conclusion that I'll find out for myself shortly."
"I was picturing you fucking me up against the shower wall-" you begin, closing the gap between your bodies as you talk, your chest pressing against Tech's cold plastoid armour. "-With you gripping firmly onto my hips, and you leaving your marks along my neck."
"Mesh'la," Tech groans, one of his hands moving up to cup your chin. His head tilts towards yours, speaking almost directly against your lips. "If I wasn't needed by the others, then I'd have you in there right now. Would you like that, cyar'ika?"
"I would," you sigh. "Should you be getting back to them? I mean, I don't want you to leave, but I know that they need help with the supplies."
"I'm sure they'll understand my delay. I'll inform them that I was helping you with a personal matter," Tech shrugs, and rolls his eyes. "As for now, I'd like to see what I missed in the refresher."
"You want me to...?" you sheepishly reply, and Tech firmly nods.
"Show me, cyar'ika. Show me just how much you need me," Tech orders, his lips pressed lightly to yours, before letting his eyes fall shut as he steals a kiss.
You whimper into his touch, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. The hands on your waist slip down over your hips, kneading your ass, and Tech lightly laughs when the rest of your body presses firmly against his armour, making you shudder against his cold armour.
Tech seems almost desperate to take the lead, both through his words and actions, and you're more than willing to submit. From what you've seen since you started working with the Batch, Tech rarely takes the lead, and often follows orders without question; now is his only opportunity to let his dominant side come out, his voice becoming deeper, his back straightening, and his hands clinging onto every inch of you, exploring your body, admiring you through his touches.
"My bunk," Tech mutters as he partially breaks the kiss, stealing a few more gentle kisses before detaching fully from you. Following Tech's command, you scoot onto his bunk, getting comfortable and leaving more than enough space for him. To your surprise, he sits on the bunk opposite, leaning back against the bunks wall comfortably, his legs dangling off the edge.
You raise a confused brow at Tech, and he matches your motion. "Like I stated, I want you to show me how much you need me," Tech explains as he pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose, not that they needed adjusting anyway. "Why don't you recreate what I missed out on in the refresher?"
"Kriff," you groan. "Tech, I... I didn't know you had this side to you," you comment, and Tech smiles in response, smugly proud of his new demeanour.
"Somebody has to take the lead, and judging from how flustered you look, I assume that you're happy to follow my orders," Tech states, a light, cocky tone to his voice.
"I am," you softly nod in agreement.
That sweet smile on his lips disappears, and Tech's brows furrow. He gets more comfortable as his emotions change, propping one leg up on the bunk, the other still dangling off the side, his hands resting on his stomach. "I gave you an order, ner cyar'ika. Touch yourself."
Maker, he doesn't need to ask twice. Tech notices how you physically shudder at his tone of voice, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards. Who are you to deny such a man? You get comfortable, letting your legs fall open, spreading yourself slightly for Tech's viewing pleasure. A hand slides between your thighs, and you get to work; one hand begins slowly jerking your length, whilst the other slowly massages your entrance.
"Mesh'la," Tech compliments. From the small amount of Mando'a that you know, you understand that mesh'la means beautiful, and it's a word that the Batch has used to describe you before. Tech was actually the one to explain what the word meant, along with a few other nicknames and phrases.
You continue your handiwork, ensuring that Tech can clearly see everything that's going on; the faces you're pulling, the way your chest rises and falls, the specific areas that you pay the most attention to. Knowing Tech, he'll take mental notes of what seems to make you stir the most, and within time, he'll use his research for the greater good.
You're so engulfed in satisfying yourself that you don't notice Tech removing his codpiece until he discards it, leaving it on the bunk he's sat on. From what you can see, he's already hard, his thick cock straining against the tight fabric of his blacks, desperate to meet the cool air. "Keep going," Tech orders, and begins palming himself over his blacks, teasing both you, and himself.
Tech's cheeks are slowly turning rosy, his mouth slightly parted, eyes glued on your performance. He lets out a soft groan when you slip a finger into yourself, and begin working yourself open for him.
As time passes, Tech's patience begins to run thin; desperate to get any kind of fix, Tech slips his cock from his blacks, freeing himself just enough so he can begin slowly pumping his length. This time, you're the one complimenting him, repeating the word "mesh'la," and smiling when Tech's eyes light up at your comment.
"If only you could see yourself," Tech repays your praise. A lightbulb goes off in his brain, and Tech points to the red light on goggles as he states, "actually, you can. Would you like that, cyar'ika? Having me record you?"
Yet again, his tone of voice makes you quiver, not to mention his smug expression, boarder lining cocky. "I would," you confirm with a nod.
"One day. One day I'll record you, but I want to plan something nice for it," Tech replies, lazily pumping his cock as he talks. "But for now-" he starts, and shuffles off the bunk, taking a step forward and wrapping his gloved hands around your thighs. "-I'd like to enjoy you privately, if you'll allow me to?" Tech questions.
"Your words imply that others will watch that recording?" you question, keeping your tone of voice playful rather than concerning.
"I was going to keep it all to myself," Tech replies, planting a kiss on your inner thigh as he pauses. "Although the idea of gloating your body to the others is rather amusing."
This man is full of surprises! "Again, I wasn't expecting this from you," you whimper. Tech studies your body language as he continues kissing along your inner thighs, stopping just beneath your balls, awaiting your consent.
"I often keep my matters private, depending on my partners requirements and limits," Tech lightly shrugs. His feather kisses come to a halt, and Tech eyes up your cock, warm air blowing against your shaft every time Tech exhales. Dark eyes meet yours, tinted through the thickness of his goggles, his dominant aura mixing perfectly with his gentleman persona.
"Please," you whisper. "Please to both."
With your consent, Tech finally begins his first and long journey of satisfying you. One hand is removed from your thigh to grip the base of your cock, holding you steady as he licks a firm stripe up to the tip, swirling his tongue around the top. You exhale heavily, watching in awe as he repeates the same pattern a few times, planting kisses along your shaft on his way back down.
Tech keeps his lips pressed against the tip of your cock as he asks, "would you like that, meshla? Would you like me to show you off?" he teases, locking his eyes onto yours as he awaits your reply.
"Please," you sob. "T-Tech, gedet'ye," you ask again in his mother tongue, and this time, Tech's the one whimpering.
"If that's what you want, cyar'ika, then that's what you'll get," Tech confirmed with a small nod, and his eyes fall shut, putting all his focus into finally slipping your cock into his mouth.
It doesn't take long for you to fall back from your elbows, sprawled out over Tech's bunk, legs on either side of Tech's body as he kneels at just the right height. The sounds that are bouncing off the Marauder's walls are lewd, wet and sloppy, slicking your length up with his spit every time his mouth moves along you, and you admire Tech for not holding back. Maker knows how long he's been pining after you, but from the way he's working you, you assume it's been quite some time.
The hand wrapped around the base of your cock is removed, trailing up your body until it meets your face. Tech mumbles "off," with most of your cock still in his mouth, and it takes you a moment to realize that he wants you to remove his glove. Playfully and carefully, you nip on the fabric, locking it between your teeth and pulling, removing Tech's glove. It's dropped onto the bunk, and Tech slips his calloused, bare hands over your body, stopping when he reaches your cock once more.
He slips off your length so he can insert two fingers into his mouth, slicking them up generously. His other hand lightly taps your inner thigh, silently signaling for you to spread yourself. Tech fills his mouth up once more with your length, now knowing what specifically makes you squirm, and you're about to begin squirming even more as he teases your entrance by sliding his damp fingers over the muscle.
Hungrily, Tech begins slowly sliding one finger into you, humming in appreciation at the heavy sigh that slips from your lips. Tech's finger reaches the knuckle, and you're so engulfed in the sensations that Tech is sending along your cock that you don't notice the slight burn, even when he begins moving his finger, gradually working you open.
"Tech," you groan, desperate for more.
"Tell me what you want," Tech mutters, sliping your cock from his mouth before speaking.
"More, please," you beg, and Tech can't refuse you.
Tech leaves a kiss on your inner thigh before motioning for you to sit upright, having to duck slightly to prevent hitting your head on the bunk above you. He drags your head down for a needy kiss, a firm yet loving hand grabbing the back of your throat.
"I need you, Tech, please," you groan against his damp lips.
Tech chuckles his response, "The feelings are mutual, mesh'la." Oh, kriff, you were so engulfed in the way Tech was making you feel that you somehow forgot about his own satisfaction! "Come here," Tech urges as he makes grabby motions with his hands. "I've got you," he reassures.
Following Tech's lead, you wrap your legs around his waist, your hands gripping onto his plastoid armour, much warmer than it was earlier on. Tech pulls you up as he stands, his cock pressed against your own, and begins carrying you through the ship, peering over your shoulder as he walks.
"Where are you going?" you innocently question, uncertain why Tech would want to take you anywhere apart from his bunk. The entire ship is uncomfortable, made from chilling metal, with few nice surfaces to perch on; his bunk is far from padded, only a thin blanket and pillow supplying minimal comfort, but that's as good as it gets.
"In here," Tech smiles as he walks you into the cockpit. Huh, maybe that's why they call it that?
Whilst still holding you, Tech moves one hand from your bum to press a few buttons on the control panel, and a lock sign appears on the screen. "There," he sighs with relief as he lays you down over the ships panel, making you squirm from how cold it is. The control panel is on a slight tilt, and you know you'd slip off if it wasn't for Tech pressing himself up against it.
"You are free to move about. I've locked the control panel so if you are to accidentally hit any buttons, nothing will happen, so long as you don't hit this one," Tech gestures to a button far from your reach.
"You want to take me here? Up against the wheel?" you ask with a soft laugh, but Tech knows your tone isn't malicious.
"It's always been a fantasy of mine, yes, but I can understand if you're wanting to engage elsewhere. I understand that the ship isn't exactly comfortable, and-"
"-Tech, it's fine," you interrupt. "I'd love to know what other fantasies you have," you purr, wrapping your legs around Tech's waist, pulling his crotch against yours, his cock still hanging from his blacks.
"I'll show you another time. We can make a list together and gradually go through them, depending on how often we are left alone on the ship together," Tech replies as his hand finds the base of his cock. Picking up on your urgency and neediness, Tech grinds his own cock against yours, slicking up his length from the spit dripping from your length.
Once satisfied, Tech slides his cock south, and begins pushing in. A soft whine escapes his lips, synced in time with yours, and he continues whining even after he's fully sheathed inside you. Tech licks his lips, his eyes falling shut as he steadies himself, mentally calming down to prevent cuming already. In his defence, he has been waiting a while.
Tech slowly begins to roll his hips, watching through his yellow lenses as his cock slips in and out of you. One hand remains gripping at your thigh, whilst the other wraps around your length, and Tech begins to jerk you in time with his thrusts. He continues being soft and gentle, taking his time with you, despite expressing his urgency earlier. He's going to be lucky to find a perfect excuse on why he took so long, and even if the rest of the Batch falls for it, Hunter will certainly be able to smell the heavy scent of sex trapped within his armour.
Speaking of armour, Tech looks oh-so-enticing like this. He's almost fully kitted out, minus a single glove, his helmet, and his codpiece. You're in the nude, sprawled over the ships control panel, mewling under Tech as he begins to really pick up the pace, eager to have you screaming for him in his ship. The cockpit door is wide open, letting your whines and whimpers escape into the wilderness; they'll be no time to run if the Batch returns early, which is doubtful. Please, Maker, please keep the Batch busy for a while longer.
As if Tech can sense your paranoia, he quickens his pace, the air filling up with the aggressive sound of skin against skin. The sounds that Tech is letting out is something else, the perfect blend between a grunt and a moan, not a sound that you ever thought you'd hear coming from Tech's lips. With one hand still jerking your length, the other moves up to boldly grab your jawline, squishing your cheeks slightly, and Tech moves your head so your sight is locked onto his.
"Look at me, mesh'la," Tech orders, his lips remaining parted, heavy gasps falling from them. "I want you to keep your gaze on me as you climax. Understand?"
"Yes," you say with a light nod, not moving much due to Tech's grip. "-Sir," the name slips out, and Tech has to let his eyes scrunch shut as he almost chokes on his breath.
"Kriff! Ah, cyar'ika-" Tech grumbles, panting heavily and slouching forward until his forehead presses on your shoulder. His hips come to a halt, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you, filling you up with his release.
Is that all it takes? Calling Tech Sir? He's apologizing the second his orgasm ends, attempting to straighten his back as he looks down at you. "That was... I..." Tech fumbles over his words for the first time in his life, unable to put together what just happened.
"So, you do have a weakness," you tease, and Tech lightly laughs at your comment. "It's no trouble, Sir."
"Cyar'ika, you're going to work me up again if you continue calling me that," Tech sighs.
Just as you're about to reply, Tech begins jerking your length again, this time at a faster pace. "I know you have another release waiting for me," he urges.
With Tech's cock softening inside you, you climax, covering your stomach and chest with your release, your eyes scrunching shut as Tech's praise fills your ears. "That's it. Mesh'la, so beautiful. So perfect, all for me, ner cyar'ika," he coos, with a few choked groans here and there from having your walls tighten around his length.
Tech slips his cock from you, and helps you sit back on the co-pilots chair whilst he takes the pilots chair - his chair. You're unfazed by the mess on your chest, making a mental note to clean it up once you've caught your breath. Minutes pass, and you both enjoy the simple silence, content with the comfort that you're finding in each other.
You'd almost forgotten you were fully nude, until a draft brushes over your body, making you shiver. "Perhaps it's time to clean up?" Tech suggests, flicking his gaze over to you.
"I need to use the refresher again," you sigh, gesturing to the light layer of sweat over your body. "Will you be joining me?"
For some reason, Tech's cheeks turn rosy at the thought of enjoying a shower with you. "Another time," he declines. "I need to return to the others, and come up with a convincing excuse for my absence."
"You were going to tell them that you were helping me with a personal matter, remember?"
"Ah, yes," Tech sighs with relief, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose. "It's unlikely that they'll pry and question what your personal matter specifically was, so that should do the trick."
"Come on," you urge, and begin scrambling up, trailing through the ship to find your discarded towel, and using it to clean your body up.
Tech redresses himself whilst you're occupied, and tucks his helmet under one arm, the other coming to hold your waist as he speaks to you. "I'll comm you before we return, to give you a warning," Tech states with a cheeky smile.
"No peeping this time?" you return the playfulness, but you're met with an embarrassed expression.
"I wasn't-" Tech begins to deny it, and you shut him up with a kiss.
"I'm joking," you smile against his lips. "Go on, and don't forget your holopad this time," you say with another kiss.
"Oh, yes," Tech sighs. "I'm glad you reminded me," he says his goodbyes, picking up his holopad on the way out, leaving you to enjoy your second shower of the day.
Before you enter the refresher, you spot your own holopad, stored where it always is, tucked beneath your pillow. The idea of Tech recording you is sinfully inviting, but there's no harm in getting a head start? Especially because you're eager to see how Tech would react if you sent him a private video whilst he's out on the job?
Pairing: Echo x gn!Reader
Additional tags: Established relationship, Light dom/sub, Semi-public sex, Handjobs.
Word count: 680
Notes: Some love for Echo :0)
"Just a little longer for me," you coo, looking up at Echo between his thighs. "You can do that for me, can't you?"
Another drop of sweat forms above Echo's brow as he looks down at you with blown pupils, his mouth hanging open with nothing but pants and moans escaping it. He lets out a heavy breath, and stutters as he replies, "I don't know."
"You can, sweetheart. You've got this," you reply, your fist still wrapped around his cock, pumping his length at a steady pace. He's solid, the hardest that you've ever felt him, with a vibrant red tip that is about to turn purple if you continue being cruel. Echo's been denied multiple orgasms now, chewing on his lip in frustration as he attempts to be a good boy for you.
This was a mutual idea. With the Batch out for a few hours, you and Echo finally get to enjoy some alone time - well, you're meant to be doing 'repairs,' but they're almost complete. Echo had originally sat down on the co-pilots seat for a short break, and you jumped at the opportunity to straddle him, and steal every single kiss that he'll give you - which is a lot!
Things went from there, and before you knew it, you were sitting on the floor between Echo's knees, slowly jerking his cock as you fed him nothing but praise and affection, going into detail about how gorgeous and handsome he is, how much you adore him, how you're so lucky to be with him, and so forth.
Echo is ready to burst at the seams, not just from your words of affection, but from how you'll neglect his length whenever you feel him twitch hard, ready to coat the back of your knuckles with his release. He's begged and pleaded for your permission to release, but you're eager to see just how trained he is, in the battlefield, and in the bedroom.
"I'm... Ah!" Echo yelps. His eyes scrunch shut as his head rolls back against the headrest, his knuckles turning white as he grasps the armrests. "I'm almost there, but there's no point in telling you that, is there?"
"There is," you reply. "Because I'm going to let you cum now."
"Are you?" Echo's eyes snap open at your promise.
"I am," you nod, giving him the reassurance he needs. "You've been such a good boy for me, Echo," you compliment as your free hand cups his balls, gentle massaging them, to which Echo lets out a choked moan. He's so heavy, so full, and overly sensitive from your constant denial. "You feel so full, sweetheart. Are you going to be good, and give me all of this?" you question as you continue massaging his balls.
Echo winces. He's overly-sensitive, and the action is almost painful. Almost. "Y-Yes, anything you want," Echo confirms with an eager nod.
"Whenever you're ready," you finally give him permission.
A single pump of his cock is all it takes to have Echo cumming. He lets out a long groan, and his hand grips even tighter at the arm rest, looking for any form of support. Echo sinks down into the co-pilots seat, his eyes scrunching shut as he releases all over his stomach and the back of your hand. You continue slowly jerking him, milking him for all he's worth, but ease up once his balls are empty, and his stomach is covered.
Echo wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, clearing away the sweat, whilst he pants heavily. His eyes are still scrunched shut, stars spinning in his mind as he enters a blissed out state. When Echo does finally come around, he instantly reaches out for your free hand and entwines his fingers with yours, eager for support.
"That was..." Echo sighs, struggling to find the right words.
"Yeah... yeah, you could say that," he agrees with a soft chuckle. "Give me a minute, and I'll return the favour."
"You don't have to, love," you smile up at him.
"Oh, no. I want to..."
Summary: Love isn’t a topic that was taught back on Kamino, so it’s up to Crosshair to figure these things out, all by himself. However, he’s in constant denial, and with a small nudge from Hunter, Crosshair begins his journey of discovering how deep his admiration runs for you.
Pairing: Crosshair x Reader
Reader Description: Reader is female, and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance.
Word count: 2k
Tags: Slow burn, Mutual pining, Flirting, Denial of feelings, Feelings realisation.
Notes: A short-ish chapter to set things up for the next chapter!
Chapter 1&2 | Next Chapter not posted yet!
"We don't have to work for her any more," Echo grumbles, resting his forearms on the Marauder's co-piloting wheel. His gaze is fixated on Tech, who continues looking forwards, pulling the ship up to the docking station.
"We know. However, as Hunter said, Cid is currently our best source of income, and we are always in need of credits," Tech explains for what feels like the millionth time. It's almost as if the Batch has forgotten why Echo is named Echo.
The ship lands, and you hoist yourself up from one of the many chairs, trailing through the ship to grab the few, final pieces of your armour. The Batch was kind enough to grace you with a few spare parts, seeing as your own armour was partially damaged when you first bumped into them. Oh, that seems like a lifetime ago, when in reality, it was barely a few months.
You did exactly that - bumped into them. To be specific, it was Wrecker who you bumped into. Being a Bounty Hunter, you were busy chasing after a target, only to turn around the corner and run face-first into Wrecker. His gentle side came out straight away as he helped you up off the floor, and apologised over and over whilst you begin ranting about how your target had got away.
For some reason, you were drawn to the Batch, as if you suddenly understood where you were meant to be. Hunter offered their assistance in tracking down the target, and you took them up on it, eventually splitting the final score once settled. From there, you introduced them to Cid, who is your main source for bounties. They feel so-so about her, but money is money, and Cid is their only provider, as of now.
Once equipped, you catch up with the others, trailing alongside them on the way to the cantina. You've travelled this route a million times before, mostly alone, but also in the company of former bounty partners. Working alone always seemed to suit you best, until you wound up with the Batch. In some ways, this new arrangement is beneficial for both of you; the Batch have a source of income and another strong member to their team, and you have somewhere to sleep, store your stuff, friends who actually have your back, and so forth.
Yes, the fact that there's a child present is always concerning, but Omega has proven her worth in more ways than one, only you worry her growing confidence will get ahead, and cause her to fall into some real trouble. Hopefully, with your training, she'll prevent that, even if Hunter is still wary of it.
"Oh, you're back," Cid sighs as your bunch enters her Cantina. She's extremely fond of you, all thanks to your similar, witty personality. She even pulled you aside to question "what the kriff is going on?" when you introduced her to the Batch. In her eyes, who would want to hang out with these loose canons? Even if they are attractive (to your standards.)
"How was Endor then, huh? Did you enjoy doing something different for a change?" Cid questions, referring to your former mission.
"The mission was fine, until we were shot down whilst escaping," Hunter replies, and hands over the item that Cid's buyer was so desperate to have.
"That explains why you took so long," she grumbles, but soon shrugs it off. "So, are you here for more work? Or just fancied popping by to say hello and have a drink?"
"Work, as always," Hunter confirms. Cid grumbles yet again, and you've leant by now that her pretend negligence is her way of prevent herself from getting attached to her clients. You know damn-well that she secretly adores this wild bunch, but Maker forbid she ever admits to that.
Cid signals for Hunter to follow her through to her office, leaving the rest of you to occupy yourselves whilst they talk business. "You know where the liquor is," Cid directs her words to you, consenting you to go behind her bar and touch all her lovely, overpriced booze.
Omega tugs on Tech's hand, pulling him towards the dejarik table. Hunter may not be able to beat her, but Tech has bet credits on the idea that he can. After all, he is the brains of the bunch, and Maker forbid that a child beats him at his own game.
You ensured that tissues were packed today, ready for Tech's tears when he is finally beaten. For now, you slither behind the bar, eyeing up the liquor as you decide what to pour. Wrecker is calling out for a cocktail before he's even sat down, and Echo, not wanting to be a fuss, asks for "whatever Wrecker's having."
Knowing that Crosshair isn't one for fruity drinks, you leave him out, and begin shaking three cocktails. You ensure that Wrecker has a paper umbrella in his, and no doubt, that umbrella will soon be placed behind your ear as Wrecker calls you pretty. Despite his size, he gets drunk quickly, but that man sure can hold his liquor.
"What will it be, grumpy?" you ask Crosshair before sipping on your own drink. Wrecker laughs at his nickname, playfully nudging his arm, ignoring the usual scowl that Crosshair sends his way.
"Whiskey. Neat. Please."
Of course, what else would Crosshair drink? His fingertips drum against the bar top, his chin propped up by his other hand, watching mindlessly as you fix his drink. Without realizing, you pick out a good brand, and Crosshair softly gulps at the idea of you spoiling him. Sure, you're unaware that the liquor swirling around Crosshair's glass is expensive and tasteful, but you clearly have taste - taste to pick out the good stuff.
With your drink in hand, you head around the bar to sit on one of the many stools, winding up beside Crosshair. Your back is pressed against the bar top, sipping away as you gaze over at Tech and Omega's game. Crosshair, noticing your distracted state, peers over his shoulder before turning his entire body around. His elbows come to rest behind him, propped on the bar top, and he joins in your curiosity.
"Who do you think will win?" you question.
At first, Crosshair assumes you're talking to one of the others. But you're on his left, and Wrecker and Echo are on his right, so that means-
"Can't tell," Crosshair shrugs. "I've not seen Omega play before, and I'm not going to be bias," he adds, followed by taking another sip of his drink.
"That's a good mindset," you say with a smile. "I haven't seen either of them play, but given that Tech has spent his whole life training for this stuff, my money's on Tech."
"In that case..." Crosshair starts as his eyes meet yours, and a cheeky smile appears on his lips. "How about we do bet on it?"
"You think Omega will win?" you question. It's not that you doubt her abilities, but, well, like you said, Tech has been bred for his exceptional mind. You're yet to find out what Omega's mutation is, but it's certainly not her mind.
"I do now," Crosshair cockily replies, and takes another sip from his drink.
"Alright, but I don't think either of us have any credits. How about we bet favours, instead?" you suggest, knowing that if your pockets are empty, then Crosshair's definitely are. All credits that your bunch earns goes on fuel, repairs, supplies, and so forth, leaving a few leftovers to be shared amongst all of you.
"Sure," Crosshair mindlessly shrugs.
You extend your hand, and Crosshair shakes it, sealing the deal.
"If you win, what will your favour be? Maybe have me clean your rifle?" you question. Crosshair's not exactly cruel - he won't make you bend over backwards to meet his needs. You can possibly see him picking something humiliating, but it's hard to tell, given that his mood is ever-changing.
"No offence, but I don't allow anybody to touch my rifle," Crosshair informs you after he finishes off his drink, leaving the empty glass on the bar top.
"None taken. I don't like people touching my gear, either," you reply.
"I don't know what my favour will be... I'll have to think on it," Crosshair ponders. "What will yours be?"
"I'm not sure. I might ask you to help Omega with her training, or have you wear that tooka onesie I brought the other week," you say with a laugh, thinking about the silly pyjamas you treated yourself to. They're incredibly comfortable, and you couldn't resist them when you saw them in the shop window. Wrecker was desperate to buy a matching pair, but unfortunately, the shop didn't have them in his size, and he now jealously pouts whenever he sees you lounging around the Marauder in them.
"I am not wearing that," Crosshair rolls his eyes, and groans. How absurd, Crosshair in pyjamas? More specifically, a onesie? Unheard of!
"Why not? I think you'd look cute in it," you continue laughing. Your laughter is muffled as you take a sip from your drink, your gaze still on Crosshair as his brows furrow even more at the idea of wearing something to stupid - or stupid in his eyes.
The tips of Crosshair's ears turn pink at the image of you dressing him up in your beloved onesie. He's a bit like a tooka, isn't he? Wary of strangers, and friendly to those that he deeply trusts. The perfect match!
"It doesn't matter what you think, doll. I'm not putting that thing on," Crosshair grumbles. Neither of you pay much attention to his pet name, given that it flows naturally with his voice and style.
Just as you're about to encourage him, Hunter and Cid exit her office, and Hunter calls out for his troopers to get ready to leave. Omega, still occupied with her game, protests and insists that you all stay behind and finish.
"Let the kid finish," Cid nudges him, and Hunter, with a heavy sigh, agrees. The pair settle down nearby, watching the final stretch of the match play out, and you decide to ask Hunter the important question of, "what's our next mission?"
"A simple information retrieval, so even your dumb friends can handle it," Cid chimes in with her usual look of disappointment.
"We're going to Zygerria. Our buyer is after information on previous slave traders, so all we need to do is get it," Hunter chimes in.
Crosshair lets out a sigh of disgust as he repeats the words, "slave traders," and you couldn't agree more. How anybody could have such an entitled mindset, where they think that another beings' life is theirs to control, is beyond you, and it seems that things have only become worse, now that the Empire is in control.
"Where's the catch?" you question.
"I don't know yet," Hunter shrugs. "I'll have Tech do a scan of the facility once we're on the Marauder, and hopefully, we'll discover it then."
Your gaze moves from Hunter's, watching the final stretch of Tech and Omega's game. For once, Tech looks puzzled, subconsciously bouncing his leg, whilst Omega has nothing but a grin on her face. "Until then, we can enjoy this game," you state, and Hunter agrees, relaxing for the first time in weeks as he leans back against his chair.