Cris Chem

You hear Fives before you see him, which you’re learning is generally how it goes with Fives.

"Delivery," he announces, appearing in the opening to your cubicle with several large cardboard boxes. He holds one in each hand by the cut-out handles, like they weigh nothing, and squeezes another under his arm. The lack of tension in his arms suggests they are two reams of printer paper and not, as the label suggests, two thirty-two-inch monitors. He's grinning the way he always is, spine straight like he’s on the front lines. "New monitors, straight from the loading dock. Sign here."

"There's nothing to sign," you laugh.

"Metaphorically."

He sets the boxes down by your desk with a thud that rattles your pencil cup, and you try not to let your surprise keep to your brows, because those boxes are enormous. They are each easily a third your height, and since you are slumped in your desk chair, they come up even higher.

"You're going to love these, by the way. Dax was down there when they came in and he said the panel specs are incredible, like genuinely."

"Great, thank you" you say, giving him a closed-lipped smile.

Fives points finger guns at you and disappears back into the hallway, presumably to deliver the same news to someone else with equal enthusiasm.

You huff. You have been here three weeks. Thankfully, you know where the good bathroom is (third floor, east wing, nobody uses it) and which coffee machine doesn't scald you (the one by the stairwell, not the one in the main kitchen), and you have learned the names of most of your immediate teammates except for the guy in the corner who is either named Phillip or is not named Phillip, you genuinely can’t remember.

The slight of the boxes pulls you back to the present.

The two monitors you already have kept you perfectly happy and efficient, but you couldn’t deny being excited about four. You had two at your last job, two regular monitors on a single arm that came with your desk, already assembled. Because of this, you never questioned what had gone into making your set-up work. Now you had two more monitors, a mounting arm with an instruction booklet (distinct from the monitor instruction booklet) alongside a cable situation that is frankly geopolitical in its complexity.

But the whole office is getting the upgrade today, and you can already hear it — the low collective hum of people who spend their professional lives thinking about software suddenly given something new to think about. Someone has found the shared screwdriver and is narrating their progress over the partition. Down the row, you can hear Dax gushing about refresh rates to anyone within earshot. And Cass, your cubicle neighbor, is crouched under her own desk as well, twisting cables and clipping them in place.

Everyone else seems to know what they're doing.

You open all the boxes and slide the monitor arm out of its plastic bag before you read the instruction sheet, which walks you through the assembly of the mount in twelve steps, four of which appear to require a third hand. Ugh…

You are smart. You know you are smart. You have a degree and a year or so of experience and a functional understanding of most systems this office runs on. This, however, is not software. It’s hardware. Which means it's hard, at least to you, and the instruction diagram is not helping, and neither is the ambient sound of everyone else on the floor making confident progress.

You roll your chair across the aisle and knock on the cubicle partition.

Cass looks up from under her desk, which already boasts a fully assembled and running setup, both new monitors glowing with the particular blue-white light of freshly calibrated screens. She takes in your expression.

"How's it going,” she asks.

"Fine," you say, dryly. "Completely fine…”

Her eyes travel past you to the cardboard heap behind you. "That's a lot of monitors," she says.

"It's a quad setup. Two side by side and then two stacked on top of each other on this," you gesture at the arm, "contraption."

"Have you tried reading the instructions?"

You look at her, eyelids low.

"Right, sorry," she inhales, sympathetic but clearly not about to leave her desk. "I mean... you could call IT?"

You look at her. You look at the four monitors. You look at the instruction sheet, which is now slightly crumpled from where your hand clasped around it.

"Yeah," you say as you drag your free hand down the side of your face. "Yeah, I think I need some tech support."

A voice from behind you, unhurried but on que, says: "You asked for Tech support."

The man standing in your aisle is holding a tablet in one hand and a coil of DisplayPort cable in the other, and he is surveying your desk with focused attention. It was as if he already identified the problems and is now cataloguing them in order of priority. He's wearing round glasses, a smart button-up underneath a fitted sweater, tan corduroy slacks. Neat. Put-together.

He is one of the many people you haven’t met yet.

"Oh, thank goodness," you say. "Are you with IT?"

"No," he says. "I am Tech. You asked for Tech support. I am Tech, and I am here." He delivers this as a complete and self-evident statement.

From across the partition, you hear the very deliberate sound of Cass putting her headphones on and settling into her chair, turning her back to the two of you.

It is suddenly just you and Tech and the geopolitical cable situation.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you say as you sink back into your chair.

He looks at the base plate.

"The mounting bracket faces downward in the orientation you currently have," he says. "The instruction sheet indicates it should face upward. This is, by definition, upside down."

"I was getting there."

"Of course."

You resist the urge to flip the base plate immediately, because the least you can do is maintain some composure. So, you flip the base plate over at a normal speed.

"There," you say.

"The tension collar also needs to be seated before the vertical riser can be attached," he says, already crossing into your space, which you hadn't exactly invited him to do, but he moves with such complete purposeful certainty that it doesn't register as presumptuous so much as inevitable. He sets the tablet and the cable coil on the corner of your desk, which is the only corner with space, and picks up the collar. This is when you really notice that your cubicle is not large. It was not designed for two people. With him standing at the desk beside your chair, there is maybe half an arm's length between you, and now that you've noticed the proximity, you find it near impossible to un-notice. "If you attach the riser first, the collar cannot seat flush, and the arm will carry the weight unevenly. The upper monitors will drift forward over time."

"Ah,” you say, “I see."

The collar clicks into place, and then the riser, and then the horizontal bar, and he lifts the first monitor and fits it to the lower-left bracket himself, adjusting the tilt with a few small turns of the knob. Then he picks up the second and nods at you.

"Hold this one flat while I seat the bracket," he says. "Both hands, here and here." He indicates the sides of the monitor, and you stand to reach it, because the cubicle requires it. Now you are standing beside him with your hands where he pointed and his hands working the bracket from behind the panel, close enough that his arm almost grazes yours when he adjusts his angle, and you focus very deliberately on keeping the monitor level.

"Like this?"

"Yes. Don't let it tilt left."

You correct slightly. He makes a small sound of acknowledgement and keeps working, and you can hear the precise sound of the screw threading in, and you are looking straight ahead at the monitor and very specifically not at the line of his jaw, which is right there, a foot from your face, with a very clean angle to it.

"Good," he says. "You can let go."

The monitor stays exactly where it is. You take a small step back, putting you against your chair, which is as far as the cubicle goes.

"Am I catastrophically bad at this," you ask, "or is this genuinely complicated."

He considers this with the seriousness of someone who does not distribute reassurance automatically, the way most people do, as a social reflex. "The mount system is non-intuitive, particularly for someone accustomed to single or dual configurations. The stacking bracket for the upper pair requires understanding load distribution across two separate pivot points, which the documentation does not explain adequately." A pause. "You were not catastrophically bad..."

"But?"

"You were moderately bad."

"Moderately-”

"It was a recoverable situation."

"Wow..."

"That is a compliment," he says, without looking up from the cable he's threading through the arm's interior channel, routing it in a long clean run from the upper bracket down through the riser, "relative to what I found when I arrived at Soren's desk earlier this morning, which I will not describe in detail."

You laugh, a short surprised sound, and he glances up at you sideways through his wide frames. The afternoon light comes through the window low and warm, and catches his eyes, which are brown, the sun highlighting them as color of darkened honey. You notice this the way you notice something you immediately wish you hadn't, because now it is just information you have and cannot put back. Your attention is then drawn to a shift in his expression, a small and careful curve at the corner of his lips that you are already deciding must mean nothing at all.

He looks back at the cable run.

"The upper two are next," he says. "Same process. I'll need you to hold each one while I work the bracket."

So you are back beside him again, both hands on the first upper monitor, and he reaches past you to access the stacking bracket. He is looking at the bracket while his hands find the screw by feel alone. You are looking at the wall, because that is the responsible thing to do, and you are thinking about literally nothing, Except the fact there is a steadiness to him, something in the set of his shoulders and the patience in his hands, and you find yourself noticing the breadth of them in your peripheral vision and then, irritatingly, noticing that you noticed.

"Tilt it half a degree to the right," he says.

You do.

"Good. Hold."

The screw seats. He tests the counterbalance with a small push, adjusts something, pushes again.

"Last one," he says.

The last monitor goes up the same way, his hands steady and exact, yours keeping it level, and when he says you can let go, all four screens are arrayed in a clean grid, the arm holding everything perfectly still.

You both look at it.

It looks, frankly, incredible.

You look at it for a moment. "Thank you," you say. "Genuinely. I would have taken forever to figure that out."

"The documentation is inadequate," he says, which you are starting to understand is the closest he gets to saying it wasn't your fault.

He picks up the coil of DisplayPort cable and looks at the underside of your desk. Then, without further comment, he crouches down, shifts onto his back, and slides under the desk.

You stand very still for a moment.

His legs take up most of the remaining floor space in the cubicle, one stretched out toward the partition and one bent at the knee, falling slightly to the side, easy and unhurried, like he has done this in far more inconvenient places and found it perfectly manageable. From under the desk comes the sound of deliberate, organized movement, cables being unclipped from wherever they've been sitting since you moved in, rerouted, fastened properly.

"Hand me the short run on the left," he says, from somewhere beneath the desk surface. "The grey one."

You crouch and find it and pass it through, careful not to look at anything other than the cable and the general direction of his waiting hand. You look anyway. Just briefly, because the cubicle is the size it is and there is only so much discipline a person can be expected to exercise at four in the afternoon on a Thursday, and his legs in those corduroy slacks are, objectively, quite long, and-

You stand up very quickly and face the monitors.

Okay, you think. Absolutely not. You have been here three weeks and he is crouched under your desk doing you a favor and that is not — you pick up the instruction booklet and put it down again — that is not a thing you are doing right now.

That is not a work-appropriate observation.

"The black one now," he says.

You pass it through. He says nothing else for a while, just works, and you can hear each cable being routed and clipped into place. You look at the ceiling and think about how ridiculous you’re being and how ridiculous this must look to Cass, who is making less-than-obvious side glances toward the two of you.

When he slides back out and stands up, he brushes off his sweater without any particular self-consciousness, picks up his tablet, and looks at the four screens.

"Cable management is complete," he says. "You can power them on."

You reach for the power strips and flip them, and after a moment all four monitors hum to life, each one displaying the same pale grey startup screen, and it is genuinely satisfying in a way you weren't expecting.

"Now the display settings," he says. "The arrangement will need to be configured so your cursor moves correctly across all four panels, or the mouse will jump when you cross a boundary. It will also let you set the orientation for the upper pair." He glances at you. "Sit. I will walk you through it."

You sit. He stands beside you, and when he leans forward to indicate something on the upper monitor, his other hand comes to rest on the back of your chair, and you catch the smell of him, warm wool and coffee. You look at where he's pointing and try to absorb what he's saying about arrangement and display mapping and virtual grid positions. You manage maybe seventy percent of it, which is actually better than before.

"Drag the second display here," he says, indicating the position. "It needs to match the physical layout or the cursor transition will be off by the height of the monitor." A beat. "Good. Now the upper left."

He walks you through each one, and you move the panels into their correct positions on the virtual grid. Each time you get one right he says something brief and confirming, his hand never leaving its spot on the back of your chair, and at some point you stop being focused on the task and start being focused on how close he is and how unhurried he sounds and the fact that he has been in your cubicle for the better part of an hour being patient about absolutely everything. You think about the way his hands found that screw without looking.

Oh…

All four cursors connect in a single seamless plane.

"There," he says. "Try moving from the lower-right to the upper-left."

You do. The cursor travels cleanly through all four screens without a single jump.

"Better!"

"Correct," he says. "The display arrangement is mapped to the physical layout. Your cursor will track properly across all four panels."

“Thank you,” you nod. He doesn't move to leave.

"You're new," he says, in the tone of someone noting a fact.

"Three weeks."

He nods once, like that accounts for something. “That explains why I don't recognize you. I know most of the people on this floor." A beat. "The coffee machine by the stairwell is the only one worth using, if you haven't determined that yet. The kitchen machine runs too hot."

"I know," you say as you glance up to meet him.

Something shifts in his expression, small and precise. "Most people take at least a month to figure that out."

"Well," you say. "Maybe I'm a quick study."

He picks up the tablet and the leftover cable coil, and he considers this fully.

"Possibly," he says. And then, close enough to an afterthought that you almost miss it: "I'm usually in early, if you have further questions about the systems. The documentation is, as I have mentioned, inadequate."

He says it the way he seems to say everything, but this time his eyes connect with yours.

You feel something settle in your chest, small and specific, and you look at the four monitors instead of at him.

"Good to know. Thanks.”

He nods once, precisely, and leaves.

The ambient noise of the office filters back in around you. The afternoon light is coming through the window at that low, unhurried angle it gets in the late part of the day, and outside your cubicle the floor is still buzzing with the comfortable noise of people wrangling their setups, someone asking Dax a question, someone else looking for the screwdriver, Fives laughing at something down the row, and you sit in the middle of all of it and look at your four perfectly level, correctly configured screens.

Three weeks, you think. Three weeks and the good bathroom and the right coffee machine and apparently, now, this.

You make a mental note to remain professional.

You are already fairly certain you are going to fail at that.

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Tech paused, eyes flicking back to the holoposter. “I suppose not… after all, I was successful on Serolonis.” He states with a sense of small pride. 

Your grin widened, practically glowing. “Exactly. And this time, nobody’s life is hanging in the balance.”

Tech tilted his head slightly, conceding the point but only partially. “We would still need to inquire about the application process. I imagine there are restrictions—”

“Already covered,” you interrupted, holding up your datapad with a triumphant flourish. His brows knit in that adorably precise way. 

“You signed me up before I agreed.”

“Mm-hm,” you said, rocking back on your heels with fake innocence. “But don’t worry. You’ll thank me when you’re standing on the winner’s podium.”

Tech’s frown deepened, though his lips twitched that were half scolding and half smirking. “You can not simply—”

“Oh, come on, Tech,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly. “If there’s anyone I can always win over, it’s you.”

He opened his mouth, ready to argue the semantics of ‘always’, but then faltered. His silence said it all. You weren’t entirely wrong.

With a faint sigh, one that sounded suspiciously like reluctant amusement, Tech adjusted his goggles. “Very well. But if I crash and perish due to your insistence, you will be the one explaining it to Hunter.”

“Deal,” you said, slipping your datapad into your bag and falling into step beside him. “But you won’t crash. I know you.”

Tech shot you a sidelong glance, “Confidence in one’s abilities is… acceptable. I will endeavor to meet your expectations.”

“Oh, you’ll do more than meet them,” you said, letting your tone dip just enough to hint at friendly mischief. “I’ve got faith in my pilot.” 

He didn’t respond, just kept his eyes forward, jaw tight and a subtle shift in his posture.

When the two of you walked to where the race was being held, the pit area buzzed with noise. Engines were roaring and mechanics were shouting. The crowd in the stands thunder with cheers before the race even began. 

You stood just off to the side as Tech ran one last diagnostic sweep on his borrowed speeder. As you glance around at everyone else's, pristine and modified, you can’t help but feel he’s been shafted with this old rust-bucket. 

He had his helmet off as his fingers moved across the console and you saw the way his eyes glaze over his competitors.

Some of them carried themselves with the air of cockiness, already sharing smug nods and handshakes, as though the outcome was predetermined. And as you take your eyes off him to look at the crowd, there were even many banners made for the other racers. Tech was just a newcomer. 

You caught Tech’s subtle frown at the sight, his grip on the edge of the cockpit tightening for just a beat too long.

“Hey.” You stepped closer, your voice pitched just for him. “Don’t overthink it. If you don’t win, it’s fine. This is just a bit of fun. And the credits are only a bonus.”

Tech didn’t look up right away, eyes still fixed on the racers, but his tone carried a quiet protest. “You have not even seen me race before. You are placing faith in an unknown variable.”

That earned a soft laugh from you, “Maybe. But I did hear about your last one. Omega would not shut up about you after you basically saved Cid. Said you were faster than anyone out there. I’m excited to see it for myself, honestly”

That made him glance up sharply. His expression shifted as something uncertain flickered on his features before he quickly masked it. Still, he couldn’t stop the faint warmth creeping across his cheeks. Compliments were… not something he ever really knew how to handle.

Before he could reply, you reached out and brushed your hand against his arm. A small, grounding touch. “Just be careful. And have fun with it, Tech.”

The gentle pressure of your hand lingered against the fabric of his sleeve. His throat bobbed with an unspoken response, but the announcer’s booming voice cut through the moment:

“ALL RACERS TO POSITIONS. THE RACE WILL BEGIN SHORTLY!”

“Well that’s you!” You drop your hand and bend down to grab his helmet, slotting it over his head before he could even fathom what was happening. You also grabbed a comm that you were allowed to use to communicate with Tech during the race. 

Your hands lingered on both sides of his helmet as you give him a reassuring nod. “Show them who’s boss.” You wink at him.

As you dash towards the stands, Tech mentally prepares himself as he slides into his speeder. 

The crowd roared to life as the racers shot off the starting line, the massive holoscreens above the arena flickering to life with split views of each speeder. You found yourself pressed against the railing, heart hammering as Tech’s speeder swung around the first bend. A wave of boos went up when he cut cleanly in front of one of the local favourites.

You cupped your hands to your mouth and shouted over them, not caring about the dirty looks you get in return. “That’s it, Tech! Show ‘em how it’s done!”

The boos only grew louder when he overtook a second racer. Gasps rippled through the stands and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen.

On the second lap, a crimson-painted speeder sidled up on his left flank. With a deliberate swerve, the racer slammed into Tech’s vehicle, forcing him dangerously close to the jagged wall. Sparks shrieked from durasteel grinding against stone as the racer kept their weight leaned in, determined to destroy Tech.

Your heart lodged in your throat from the stands, but Tech’s voice came through calm and clipped over the comms: “Unrefined and predictable.”

Instead of fighting the push, Tech seemed to calculate the angle and watched the rival racer’s pattern. He eased his throttle and then, precisely at the apex of the next corner, Tech slammed his brakes.

The racer, not expecting the sudden drop in speed, lurched forward, their side panel scraping free of Tech’s hull and straight into the rear of another competitor ahead. A catastrophic collision of sparks, twisted metal and smoke exploded as the two speeders locked together.

Tech shot through the chaos untouched, his patched-up cannons rattling but still holding. 

Then, on the final stretch, he pulled a maneouver that made your stomach drop. Engines screamed, one speeder spun out in a cloud of smoke, and Tech slipped neatly through the gap to cross the finish line first.

The arena erupted into chaos! Cheers, groans, stamping feet, but you barely heard any of it. A flutter took root in your chest as you realised just how impressed you were. He wasn’t just good –he was extraordinary.

By the time the announcer declared his victory, you were already pushing your way down the steps back to the track. You weren’t the only one though. A handful of kids darted past you and swarmed Tech before you could reach him.

“Did you see that move?!” “You’re awesome!” “Can I have your autograph?”

Tech froze as if they’d hit him with a stun blast, standing stiffly as they tugged at his gloves and legs. His mouth opened but shut again, completely unprepared for this kind of adoration. He took off his helmet and held it against his hip as he spots you, silently pleading for help.

You laughed under your breath, stepping forward to rescue him. “Careful, you’ll knock him over. One at a time.” You placed a steadying hand on Tech’s arm and looked up at him with a grin. “Congratulations. I knew you could do it.”

His gaze tilted down at you, and for a moment the chaos around you seemed muted. The edges of his mouth tugged into the smallest smiles, an expression he almost looked guilty for wearing.

The announcer’s booming voice broke in again. “AND OUR WINNER—THE MYSTERIOUS NEW RACER! COME CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!”

The children scattered as the official strode forward, carrying a heavy case. He handed it to Tech with a flourish, the latch springing open to reveal neatly stacked credits. Five thousand, just as promised.

“And of course,” the announcer added, theatrically gesturing toward the sidelines where a second attendant held up a sealed envelope, “the mystery luxury prize provided by our generous sponsors!”

The crowd whooped as Tech accepted it with a polite nod, still visibly uncomfortable under the weight of so many eyes, while you clapped and leaned closer with a conspiratorial grin.

“See? Totally worth it.”

The roar of the arena dulled into memory as you and Tech slipped through the exit. At his side, the case of winnings bumped gently with each step, but it was the slim white envelope in his other hand that seemed to hold his attention.

He unfolded it as he read aloud: “‘Congratulations. Your mystery luxury prize entitles you to one night’s stay in the Grand Juniper Inn, Penthouse Suite—complete with all amenities and private accommodations.’”

You blinked, a laugh bubbling up before you could stop it. “Wait—you’re telling me the mystery prize is an actual penthouse suite? That’s… that’s ridiculously good.”

Tech only hummed, as though the offer were mildly inconvenient instead of extravagant. “Unfortunately, it will go unused. We are expected to return to Pabu at first opportunity.”

You frowned, lips pursing, until a thought sparked. “You should still claim the prize, Tech. Pick someone to go with you.”

He didn’t even look up from his datapad, fingers gliding rapidly across the display as though your suggestion was just background noise. “Luxuries of that nature are not something I am particularly interested in… nor would I even know who to invite.”

You tilted your head, searching his profile. “What about Phee? You two are, uh… close, no?”

That stopped him in his tracks. His goggles lifted from the datapad and fixed squarely on you, eyes widening behind the lenses. “What makes you say that?”

The sudden edge in his tone made your stomach flip. “I just noticed you’re quite chatty with her, is all?”

Instead of brushing it off, Tech’s mouth pressed into a frown. He didn’t deny it either, which made your chest somewhat tighten uncomfortably for a moment.

“I do not think I will be doing that,” he said at last, turning to walk again. His pace was brisk, decisive.

You sighed and fell into step beside him only for him to suddenly stop. “Would you not want to have it?” he asked abruptly.

“Have what? The prize you won?” A laugh slipped out, half disbelieving.

He adjusted the case at his side, tucking the envelope under one arm. “You were the one who signed me up for the race. Statistically, that makes the victory and its subsequent reward partially your doing. Therefore…” He hesitated, throat working as though he were choosing every word with care. “We could attend together.”

The laugh you’d started to smother came rushing back, light and surprised. “Wait—you’d pick me? Over Phee?”

It was meant as a tease, but Tech stiffened, goggles tilting slightly away. “You have been in my company far longer than she has,” he said at last, voice quiet but deliberate. “That makes you the more valued friend, in my estimation.”

Your grin softened instantly, heart flipping at the blunt sincerity of his words. “Tech, I was teasing,” you admitted gently. “But it sounds fun, so why not? But what about heading back to Pabu?

“I’m sure I will be able to come up with an excuse to prolong our visit here.”

Veering away from the Marauder’s docking bay, you made your way to the Inn. Luckily it wasn’t located too far away from your current destination so getting there was easy enough. 

Once you get inside you noticed that the lobby was vast and practically made of all marble and glass. Plush couches lined the waiting area, and a fountain burbled at the center. The receptionist sat behind a curved desk, a man dressed in sharp navy with a too-bright smile that faltered the second his gaze landed on you. His eyes lingered longer than they should have, but you ignored it, standing just behind Tech as he approached the counter.

“We are here to redeem this,” Tech spoke, sliding the envelope across the counter.

The receptionist’s attention flicked reluctantly from you to Tech. He opened the slip, glanced it over, and then back up. “Ah, yes, the Penthouse Suite. And… are the two of you together?” His gaze darted between you and Tech with obvious implication.

You tilted your head toward Tech, curious how he’d handle it.

“No,” he answered immediately, his tone flat with precision. “We are simply two friends.”

The receptionist blinked as though the words had short-circuited his brain. Unbelievably, he leaned forward, eyes still on Tech as if you had disappeared entirely. “Really? Is she single?”

Your mouth fell open, a hot flare of irritation rushing up your spine. “I can answer myself, you know?” you shot back, brows pinched in disbelief.

The man smiled, leaning his elbows on the desk in a way he clearly thought was charming. “Very well, little lady. Are you single?”

Your frown deepened. “No.”

That shut him up. He blinked, recoiling like you’d slapped him, and muttered something under his breath as he fumbled for the room fob. With stiff hands, he slid it across the desk to Tech, avoiding your eye now.

Beside you, Tech hadn’t moved, his goggles fixed squarely on you as though he was running your answer back in his head again and again. Surprise flickered behind his gaze, but he said nothing and took the fob.

“Thank you,” he said curtly to the receptionist, and with a sharp adjustment of his grip on the credits case, he turned on his heel toward the lift.

You fell into step beside him, pulse still thudding from the rude exchange. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Tech sneaking another glance your way and you can’t help but notice the confusion written all over him. But, he kept his questions locked behind his teeth.

The two of you stepped into the lift, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss. You stand with your arms folded loosely, the adrenaline of the encounter at the desk still filling you with irritation. Beside you, Tech stood with his helmet tucked under his arm. He was silent—too silent—and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his mouth part slightly as if he were about to speak.

But then he stopped. Closed his lips again and adjusted his grip on the helmet.

You raised a brow faintly and tilted your head his way. “What?” you asked, voice breaking the stillness. “You were about to say something.”

His hand lifted automatically to fix his goggles, an almost nervous tell. “I was merely going to state that… I was not aware you were in a relationship.” His tone was careful but the words carried a strange weight.

A sharp laugh left you, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m not, Tech.”

That seemed to puzzle him even more. “Then why did you say so?”

You sighed, shifting your weight against the railing behind you. “Because it was easier. If I told that sleazy receptionist I was single, he’d just keep pushing. Saying I wasn’t available was the fastest way to shut him down.”

Tech tilted his head, processing that. “Ah.”

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Honestly, if you hadn’t jumped in so quickly with the ‘just friends’ comment, I probably would’ve agreed to pretend we were together. Would’ve saved me the headache.”

That made him still like you’d just dropped a wrench into the gears of his mind. His fingers flexed on the edge of his helmet, shoulders drawing a touch straighter. His silence stretched long enough for the lift to chime.

You raised your brows. “What, too shocking a thought?”

He cleared his throat, adjusting his goggles again though they didn’t need it. “Not shocking,” he murmured at last, voice low. “Merely… unexpected.”

Your brows are now knitted togethe, curiosity sharpening. “What do you mean by that?”

Tech shifted his weight, the faintest flicker of discomfort breaking through.

“I simply mean,” he began, his words unusually halting, “that within our unit, scenarios involving… fabrication of relationships, particularly for the sake of infiltration or deception, generally fall to Hunter or Wrecker. They are perceived as more approachable. More desirable.” His tone tightened on that last word, clipped like he wanted to finish quickly and be done with it. “I have never participated in what Omega would call ‘fake dating.’ Nor have I ever been asked to. It is not a role I fit.”

You blinked at him, mouth parting, a dozen retorts sparking in your chest at once. But before you could choose one, before you could tell him how wrong he was, the lift chimed.

The doors slid open with a ding! and Tech immediately strode out without so much as a backward glance. 

By the time your boots carried you after him, the words you’d wanted to say they were already trapped back in the lift.

The doors slid open again but this time to the penthouse suite. It was stunning.

Polished wooden floors that gleamed, a wall-length window, curtains so heavy they probably cost more than anything you even own. This was luxury. This was the nicest place you had ever set foot in without contest.

Tech, of course, just adjusted his goggles, scanning the room, “Hm. Pleasant.”

You stared at him. Pleasant. 

Your awe evaporated however when your eyes landed on the centerpiece of the suite. The bed.

One bed.

A sprawling, pristine, feather-soft monstrosity, dressed in crisp white sheets and enough pillows to bury yourself in. Your breath hitched in horror rather than delight.

Slowly, you glanced toward Tech, waiting to see his reaction. But he wasn’t even looking. He was already crouched by the wall terminal, scanning the amenities menu. You looked back to the bed, then to the sofa across the room. It was plush yet nowhere near long enough for Tech. Maybe not even for you.

Your stomach flipped. He had won this after all. Logically, he should get the bed. But still…

“…It seems the holoscreen provides a decent selection of archived holo-films,” Tech was saying, tone verging on animated as he scrolled. “Documentaries, historical records, tactical reenactments—fascinating. We could—”

“Tech.”

He glanced over his shoulder, blinking at your tone. “Yes?”

“The bed.”

“The—?” He followed your gaze, goggles glinting as he adjusted them. “Oh. Yes. A single sleeping arrangement.” His voice was utterly calm, as though he was just announcing the weather. He turned back toward the terminal.

You opened your mouth, then shut it again. Was he not… bothered?

But then the thought finally caught up. His head turned back, a faint crease forming between his brows. “…Ah. I understand now why you might find this awkward.”

“You think?”

“Well, as we are not in a romantic relationship, the implication of sharing a bed could be misconstrued. Socially speaking, it would appear unconventional.”

“Unconventional?” you repeated.

“Yes. Though, in terms of practicality, I do not foresee an issue. The area of the mattress is sufficient for both of us to maintain personal space. It is, after all, just a bed.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting a laugh. Just a bed. Leave it to Tech to make the most mortifying situation sound like a logistical problem.

Heat crept up your neck the longer Tech stared at you. You cleared your throat and rubbed your temple, suddenly wishing you could rewind the last minute. “I… guess I made a bigger deal of it than it really is. We’ve been on a ship together for months now, cramped quarters and all. A bed’s not much different, right?”

“Precisely. It is no issue.” His voice softened just slightly, as though to reassure you, but then slipped seamlessly back into his earlier train of thought. “Now, as I was saying, there is quite a respectable archive of films available. If you are interested, we could watch something later.”

That tugged a smile from you before you could help it. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you’d just sat back and watched something for no reason. “Yeah,” you said, tone warm. “I’d like that.”

The two of you drifted into a comfortable silence, breaking off to explore opposite ends of the suite. You wandered toward the minibar, tugging open the cabinet doors and nearly groaning aloud. Rows of tiny gleaming bottles, neatly wrapped snacks, things you hadn’t seen in forever, all laid out like treasure.

“You want a drink?” you called over your shoulder.

Tech looked up from the console where he was still poking at the holoscreen settings. “I don’t see why not.”

You pulled out two glasses, filling them up before carrying them over. He met you halfway and as you offered him one of the glasses, your fingers brushed against his as he took it.

The contact was so brief but it sent a small current through your hand all the same. Tech didn’t react though, he was already tilting his head and inspecting the amber liquid in the glass. You tried to mirror his nonchalance, swallowing quickly and pretending nothing at all had happened.

“Here’s to… mystery luxury prizes,” you quipped, raising your glass.

Tech smiles and touched the rim of his glass to yours. “To mystery luxury prizes.”

Night had settled outside and the two of you had migrated to the couch, half-lounging with your drinks while the holoscreen flickered in front of you. You’d told Tech to put on anything—so he had, naturally choosing some old documentary about… well, you weren't too sure what it was about. 

You hadn’t complained, though. Mostly because he’d stripped out of his armour earlier and was now in just his civs. It wasn’t often you saw him without layers of gear, and you couldn’t deny it.. it was a nice view. 

The movie droned on in the background as you began to rifle absently through your bag at your feet. Your fingers scraped the bottom, tugged at a spare ration wrapper, then nothing. No sleep clothes. No change of anything. Your stomach dipped a little as you glanced from your half-empty bag to the bed across the suite, then back to Tech.

“Uh… Tech. We should’ve made a quick stop back at the Marauder.”

He looked over., “Why is that?”

You exhaled, embarrassed to admit it. “Because I didn’t pack anything to sleep in.”

For a moment, Tech simply regarded you, one gloved finger lifting to pinch his chin. You could almost hear the calculations turning over in his head. Then he gave a small decisive nod. “I see. Fortunately, I always carry a spare shirt with me. If that is of any help.”

Your brows rose. That was actually perfect. “You do?”

“Of course.” He was already setting his glass aside and heading toward his kit. “It would be illogical not to, given the number of unpredictable environments we find ourselves in. Like this one.”

He produces a folded black shirt and when he held it up, you realised with a tiny flutter of relief that it looked long enough to cover your dignity if you wore it on its own. “Will this suffice?” Tech asked simply, offering it over.

You blinked at it in his hand as the thought of actually wearing something of his own caused your stomach to do an odd flip. “Yeah,” you murmured, taking it. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

Your fingers brushed his again as you accepted it. Once more, he didn’t react, eyes already drifting back toward the holoscreen. But you felt the touch linger long after. What was going on?

You slipped the shirt over your arm, mumbling a quick thanks, and padded toward the ‘fresher. Inside, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. 

You look down at the top in your grasp, the soft fabric covering your hands. It had been worn, maybe once or twice since the last time it was washed. You didn’t know what possessed you but the sudden urge to sniff the collar was at the forefront of your mind. “Okay, no. None of that.” 

When you stepped back into the suite after tugging it on, Tech turned his head automatically at the sound of your footsteps and paused.

His goggles tilted up, following the hemline of the shirt, then back to your face. He didn’t say anything, of course, but there was a flicker of surprise in the way his brows lifted, just the smallest tightening of his jaw before he looked quickly back to the holoscreen.

You cleared your throat, tugging self-consciously at the hem. “So? Passable?”

“Functional,” he said evenly, though his voice carried a touch more weight than usual. “It is covering, and… suits you well enough.”

You huffed, biting back a smile because for Tech that was practically a compliment. You rounded the couch to reclaim your seat beside him, curling up with your legs tucked under you.

After another hour or two, the glow of the holoscreen faded into the quiet hum of the suite and the promise of a proper night’s sleep tugs at your bones. You stretched with a little groan and turned to Tech. “Bed?”

He agreed and the two of you made your way to the foot of the impossibly plush mattress. You hesitated there, hands still fidgeting at the hem of his borrowed shirt. “Uh… which side do you want?”

Tech’s goggles flicked to the bed, then to the door. “The side nearest the entrance. In the event of an intrusion, it would be more efficient for me to intercept.”

Your eyes widened that he even considered the possibility. “Wait, intruders? You actually think we’re going to be attacked in our sleep?”

“Do you not recall the racer who shouted threats as we departed? While perhaps not statistically probable, dismissing the possibility outright would be unwise.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “That was just some sore loser. He probably already forgot about us.” Still, you shrugged. “But fine, closest to the door’s yours. Makes sense.”

You slipped into your chosen side, sinking into the mattress with a sigh. Before you could get too comfortable, Tech excused himself, retreating into the ‘fresher. A moment later you heard the hiss of the shower.

You frowned at the ceiling, suddenly second-guessing yourself. Maybe you should have taken one first. Biting your lip, you furtively glanced around as though someone might catch you in the act, then dipped your chin to sniff under your arms. 

Okay. 

Fine. 

Passable. 

The door to the refresher clicked open, and you had to force yourself not to gape. Tech stepped out, towel draped around his neck, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. He was bare from the waist up, abs defined in the soft glow of the suite’s lights, his skin still glistening from the heat of the water.

He rubbed the towel through his hair. “I did not bring a spare sleep shirt,” he explained simply, “as the only one I carried has been… repurposed.”

Your mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “O-oh. That’s… fine.”

“Good.” He gave a curt nod, as though you’d just signed off on a mission report. 

True to his prediction, there was just enough room for the two of you when he slipped into the bed. He was an arm’s length away but close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating across the space. 

You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Tech was shirtless and in the same bed as you.

It was ridiculous. This bed was easily the most comfortable surface you’d ever laid on, but sleep just wouldn’t come. 

You turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, tugged the blanket up to your chin, tried closing your eyes. Nothing. Every nerve ending was aware of him: the sound of his breathing, the faint rustle when he shifted, the way the mattress dipped minutely with his weight.

After what felt like an eternity, Tech finally broke the silence. “I cannot seem to achieve rest either.”

You huffed out a breath, relief mingled with nerves. “Good. I thought it was just me.”

For some reason you spoke without really planning to. “It’s been a while since I’ve shared a bed with anyone. Especially a guy.”

The quiet stretched a beat longer before Tech answered, voice thoughtful. “I have never shared a bed with a woman before.”

That didn’t really shock you. But then he added, “In truth, I have not engaged in any physical contact of that nature at all.”

That, however, surprised you. You rolled your head on the pillow to look at him, though the room was dim. “…At all?”

His reply was simple. “No.”

You sat with that for a moment, lips parting, before a little half-laugh escaped you. Gentle, not mocking. “Does it bother you?”

“I am not saddened by it,” Tech replied, though you could hear the defensiveness layered beneath. “It is merely fact.”

You hummed, remembering his words from the lift earlier. “Still… you shouldn’t put yourself down about not being desirable. That’s just not true.”

There was another long silence before his voice reached you again, softer now. “Do you, as a woman, find me desirable?”

Your breath caught, pulse jumping as if he’d just asked you the most dangerous question in the galaxy. Slowly, you rolled over to face him.

His goggles were gone. In the dim light, you could see the faint lines pressed into his skin where they’d rested for so long, the almost-bruised marks framing his sharp features. He was lying on his back, his head turned toward you, watching with a stillness that made your heart hammer.

You bit your lip, the tiniest tremor in your hands as your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. Your voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the honesty. “Yes. I do.”

His throat worked as he swallowed, and you caught the faintest rise of his chest. For once, he didn’t immediately follow with data or analysis. He just lay there, taking in your answer.

A sudden draft crept through the room, the kind that felt sharper for no reason at all, and you instinctively curled tighter beneath the thick duvet. It helped but not enough. The chill still found its way in, raising goosebumps along your skin. You tucked your knees up slightly and huffed a faint breath.

Beside you, Tech shifted, as though aware of your discomfort. His voice came carefully, almost like he was stepping across uncertain terrain. “If you are cold,” he began, “I could suggest… you move closer.”

Your eyes flicked toward him again, half disbelieving and half amused. Was he actually flustered by his own idea? He certainly looked it—the faint furrow in his brow, the way his mouth tightened like he already regretted saying anything. You held back a smirk, deciding not to make it harder for him, and instead scooted across the mattress until your arm brushed his.

The proximity startled him; you could tell by the slight jerk of his breath. Your head almost rested on his pillow instead of your own, and the warmth radiating from him was immediate.

“I… ah,” he cleared his throat, his voice defaulting into lecture mode, “the human body naturally regulates temperature through thermogenesis. Shared contact, particularly within a confined space, is proven to be efficient for conservation of heat. In fact, there are studies showing—”

But you weren’t listening. Not really. His words blurred into a gentle hum as you inched closer, soaking in his warmth, and then another shiver chased down your spine when a fresher wave of cold air brushed over you.

This time, Tech noticed. His body turned toward you, his long frame shifting until he faced you fully. His voice was quieter now, “Would it… would it be permissible if I put my arm around you?”

You swallowed, your teeth almost chattering from the lingering chill, and nodded quickly. “Please.”

There was a beat of hesitation but then his arm slid around you and drew you closer into the steady warmth of his chest. The duvet tucked around both your bodies more snugly, and finally, the cold ebbed away.

His touch wasn’t practiced. It wasn’t smooth or bold. But stars, it was earnest. And it made your pulse quicken more than any confident gesture ever could.

He closes his eyes and hesitantly, you felt his hand begin moving in slow, steady strokes along your back. Up, then down: Soothing and almost hypnotic.

You let your hand settle against his chest in return. Your fingertips traced soft patterns, absent-minded little swirls and glides, until you found yourself focusing on the pounding thud of his heart. It was racing. He was as wound up as you were.

But neither of you commented on it.

The duvet cocooned you in shared warmth, but the real heat was coming from him and from the bare skin of his chest beneath your fingertips. 

Then, your lips hovered near his neck, close enough to feel the shiver that went through him, and in a whisper you said, “It was fun watching you race today.”

His eyes stayed shut as if he was afraid to open them. His hand paused for a fraction before moving again, slower now. He said nothing, but the way his throat worked, the way his chest lifted under your touch — he’d heard you.

So you leaned closer, lips brushing the sharp line of his jaw, and let the truth spill out, quiet but cutting through the dark.

“It kind of turned me on.”

His breath hitched hard, a sharp inhale that shook against your ear. The hand on your back stilled completely, fingers pressing into you like he needed to anchor himself. Then, slowly, he drew you tighter to him until your whole body molded against his.

Chest to chest. Bare skin to fabric. His heat seared through you.

“Y-you…” His voice cracked, faltered, as if he couldn’t make the words obey him. “You found that arousing?”

You bit your lip, thighs pressing together without thinking, and whispered, “Yes.”

His eyes opened at that and his expression… stars, you’d never seen him look like that before. Wide-eyed, dark, almost disbelieving.

Something broke loose in him. The logical walls. The self-doubt. All of it.

The shift was subtle at first, almost like you were just getting more comfortable — until one of your legs slid over his, draping heavy and close, pulling you nearer. His thigh pressed up between your legs, higher than you expected. The contact made your breath stutter, a low sound nearly slipping free as you tried to hold it back. 

Stars, you should’ve known better than to take off your panties when you’d slipped into his shirt. Now, every tiny move had you trembling.

You buried it under words, quiet praise that slipped from your lips. “You really were incredible today… I mean that.”

Tech’s breathing grew unsteady, shallow but quick, as if every tick of silence pushed him closer to a decision.

His hand rose, brushing gently through a lock of your hair until he tucked it neatly behind your ear. His fingers lingered, the pads trembling faintly but then his palm curved against your cheek.

The caress stole the air from your lungs. His fingers start to travel, his eyes trained on wherever his digits land. And when it grazed your lips, the sensation was enough to make you part them just slightly. Without thinking, you let them purse against his thumb, the smallest, silent invitation.

His eyes snapped up to search yours, gauging every detail and scanning for refusal but found none.

Then, with a breath he didn’t seem to know he’d taken, Tech leaned in and kissed you.

At first, it was only a brush. Lips barely touching, pulling back, then meeting again with hesitant and shaky breaths. It was as though either of you could startle and retreat at any moment. But neither of you did.

The kiss deepened slowly and you found yourself chasing the shape of his mouth, pressing a little firmer each time. His hand, the one cupping your face so carefully, slipped lower with an almost reluctant drag. It curved down the line of your jaw, traced along your neck, then settled all the way down at your hip. The weight of it grounded you until, with a cautious tug, he drew you flush against him.

A shiver ran down your spine at the contact, your chest rising against his. You shifted, your leg tightening where it lay over his until you could press yourself even more against his thigh. The sudden friction made you hot and needy. You swallowed down the sound that rose in your throat, but a small moan still escaped, muffled against his mouth.

Tech froze for half a second, the noise shocking him, but then his lips moved more urgently against yours. His hand squeezed your hip once, anchoring you there, before his thumb began stroking in slow, restless circles at the hem of his own shirt draped over your body.

His thigh stayed firm between yours, and without meaning to, you ground against it again, softer this time, yet still desperate enough that your breath caught and broke against his lips.

Your fingers curled tighter against his chest when his hand began to wander higher, slipping beneath the thin fabric of the shirt you wore. His hand shifted lower and his breath hitched sharply when he realised bare skin greeted him where fabric should have been. 

The sound that left him was barely there, more like a stifled groan pressed into your kiss, but you felt it all the same. His palm lingered against the curve of your arse, squeezing instinctively before he jerked back as if burned.

Your lips parted with his retreat, plump and swollen from the kissing, and heat rushed to your face. “Is this…” his voice was husky, unsteady, “is this all right?”

You blinked up at him, chest rising and falling against his, and nodded before words could even form. 

Something flickered in his gaze — relief, hunger, disbelief all tangled together. Then, with a low sound that might have been your name under his breath, Tech surged forward again, chasing your lips.

This time there was no hesitation in the kiss. His mouth was hot and greedy against yours, his hand sliding back over the curve of your body as though he needed to feel you, to confirm that this was real.

You shifted with a rush of boldness, swinging a leg over until you were straddling him fully. Tech startled, a muffled sound caught in his throat as he instinctively sat up to meet you, his hands catching at your hips

Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of him and you couldn’t resist giving an experimental grind of your hips against his lap. The response was immediate as you felt him stiffen beneath you, the hard line of his cock straining through the thin barrier of his clothes.

His breath caught audibly, a low, broken noise escaping his lips as his fingers dug tighter into your hips. You smirked, leaning in until your lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“Fuck,” you curse, your voice warm and teasing, “you feel… big.”

His entire body seemed to jolt at your words, a flush creeping up his throat as though you’d just short-circuited his entire brain. “I—” he started, but the words faltered into a strangled exhale when you rolled your hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging along the rigid length beneath you.

You smiled against his lips, savouring the shudder that went through him. Tech swallowed hard, his hands trembling as they gripped your waist tighter, torn somewhere between stopping you and begging for more.

You pulled back from the kiss with a wet parting sound, your tongue dragging languidly across his lower lip before letting go. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. His wide, startled eyes locked on you as though he wasn’t entirely convinced this was real.

Your fingers toyed at the hem of the borrowed shirt, tugging it up just an inch, then letting it fall again in playful teases. His gaze followed every flick of movement. 

“Do you want to see more of me, Tech?” you purred, your voice sultry.

He swallowed so hard you saw the muscles in his throat jump, his lips parting as though the words were stuck in his chest. For a moment he just stared, stunned silent, before he nodded quickly. 

He even rubbed at his eyes once with the heel of his palm, as though trying to confirm this wasn’t some fever dream.

You couldn’t hold back a smirk. “So polite,” you teased, your voice low as you hooked your fingers under the hem and began to lift. His breath caught audibly.

The shirt slid up inch by inch, his eyes devouring every bare strip of skin you revealed, hunger written across his face as though he were starving. You could practically feel his restraint pulling taut. And then, with one slow, deliberate movement, you peeled the fabric over your head and tossed it aside.

Your breasts fell free, soft and full, bouncing slightly with the motion, your nipples already tight and aching. Tech’s breath hitched sharply as his eyes snap to your chest, then back to your face, as though he wasn’t sure where to look, too overwhelmed by all of you at once.

You were completely bare for him.

The air felt cool against your skin, but his gaze was molten heat and burning over you. His mouth opened slightly, a quiet, choked sound escaping before he bit down on his lip, as if that might keep him grounded.

His mouth practically watered at the sight of you, his hands twitching at your hips as though he didn’t dare move them without permission.

Tech pulled back slightly, the flush in his cheeks deeper than before. “I’ve never…done anything like this before,” he admitted, voice low and hesitant.

You let out a soft giggle, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I know, Tech,” you whispered, your fingers brushing along his jaw. “But, do you still want to?”

“I do.”

Your chest swelled at the certainty in his tone, heart thudding in your ears. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “May I touch you?”

The simple words nearly made you melt, a soft whimper escaping as your knees pressed closer against his. You leaned in, voice barely above a breath, “Yes… touch where feels right to you.”

His hands were warm, trembling slightly, as they found your face and cupped it gently. The touch was reverent and your knees went weak beneath you. He could have touched you anywhere, but he chose your face. 

The kiss was entirely different this time. His tongue nudged against yours, probing gently at first, begging entrance, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your throat. Your hands twined into the nape of his neck, guiding him closer as the kiss deepened, your hips pressing flush against his lap.

Every touch, every press of lips and tongue, was a lesson and a thrill. For you, his inexperience only makes the heat between you more intoxicating.

Tech’s lips started to drift lower, tracing a slow, warm path along your jawline. Your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping as he nuzzled against the softness of your skin. 

“Maker, you’re… sensitive,” he whispered, almost in awe as you let out a small whimper when his kisses moved to your neck.Your body shivered at the intimacy, a hand threading into the short hair at the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Then he moved lower, just at the swell of your breasts, pausing for a heartbeat. One large hand cupped your chest, “You’re  incredible,” he murmured against your skin before placing tender, featherlight kisses across the curve of your breast.

A giggle bubbled from your throat at his delicate approach, but the moment his lips met your nipple, the teasing and testing, your head fell back, and a soft moan slipped past you. His tongue flicked lightly, almost experimentally at first, gauging your reaction, and you could feel him twitch below you at the sound you made.

“Does that feel good, darling?” he asked, breath warm against your skin. 

“Yes…” you murmured, your voice trembling. “It feels… perfect.”

Encouraged, he grew bolder, swirling his tongue around the nipple, sucking gently while teasing with soft, precise flicks. You arched into him, letting your hands wander to his shoulders, your fingers digging.

He paused, lifting his head to see your reaction, then whispered huskily, “I like this. I want to make you feel… everything.”

You shivered at the confession, letting him continue, your own moans growing more insistent as his mouth continued to worship the other breast in the same attentive, teasing rhythm.

“Tech… please… don’t stop,” you breathed, hips shifting minutely against him as he explored your reactions, learning what made you shiver, what drew your moans, and what made your fingers clutch at his shoulders in desperate need.

His inexperience lent an almost reverent quality to his touch; slow, precise, tentative yet full of intent. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, and every tender nibble feels deliberate and intimate.

You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the heat pooling between your legs, each sound of pleasure from your lips only urging him further.

Unable to resist, your own hand drifted down, fingers sliding slowly over the slickness gathering between your thighs. The warmth and pressure of his lips and hands made the sensation almost too much to bear. A soft, breathy moan slipped past your lips as you began to rub yourself lightly.

“Mmm Tech… your lips… your hands… they feel so… good,” you whispered, voice trembling with need. Each word seemed to spur him on.

A thumb circled your nipple with a slower, firmer rhythm now, and he added gentle pinches, testing your reactions. You gasped, arching into his touch, letting him feel how responsive you were. “D-don’t stop…” you murmured, your own fingers circling your clit.

He paused just briefly to watch your reactions, eyes wide and fascinated, and murmured lowly, “You’re responding beautifully."

Your moans grew a little louder, shaking, but still soft enough to feel intimate in the quiet of the suite. You leaned into him, lips brushing his jaw as you whispered, “You… you’re making me… feel so good.”

He adjusted, one hand slipping lower to graze your hip and side while his lips and tongue alternated between both breasts.

You could feel your own fingers moving faster, slick coating them as you drew yourself closer to the edge, every flick of his tongue sending shivers through you making you shiver uncontrollably.

Your voice grew shakier, soft gasps and moans falling from your lips, your words scattered, “Tech… right there… mmm… ah… just like that… yes…”

You pressed your hands against his jaw, gently but firmly guiding his lips away from your breasts. The sudden loss of contact made your body shiver. Not yet. 

You let your chest rise and fall, gasping softly into his mouth.

“I want to save it,” you breathed, lips brushing his as you looked into his eyes. “Do you want your cock sucked?”

Tech blinked, momentarily caught off guard, his composure faltering under the haze of arousal. His voice came out low, hoarse with desire: “I… I… yes… I want that,” he admitted, a heat creeping to the tips of his ears.

The combination of his hesitance and desire made your pulse spike, and you leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his, lips just hovering over his as you whispered, “Then let me show you how good it can feel.”

You could feel his heart hammering against your chest as he adjusted slightly beneath you, anticipation and nervousness radiating off him in waves. Every small movement of your body, every subtle flick of your fingers over his skin, had him tense and waiting. You smiled softly, enjoying the heady mix of shyness and lust that clung to him.

Moving carefully between his thighs once he freed himself, you brush a hand over him. Tech’s cock is hot in your grip, swollen and throbbing with the head already glistening and begging for attention. You can see his uneven breaths as he watches you with a mix of awe and desire.

“You’re so perfect,” you murmur, fingers curling around him and giving a gentle squeeze. The words make him shiver under your touch, and you can’t help but smile at the way his hips twitch against your hand.

Leaning in, you lick your lips, letting your warm mouth hover just above him. Slowly and deliberately, you wrap your hand around the base again and move it up and down in tandem with teasing motions and a low, startled groan slips from him.

Heat rises in your own chest as you watch his reactions. His hands clench at the sheets, the slight trembling of his hips betraying how much he’s enjoying this. You take your time, tracing soft, warm circles with your fingers as your mouth hovers closer, letting the tension build with every deliberate stroke.

Tech’s voice comes out shaky, hesitant, but full of desire: “I never knew y-you were such a tease.” His jaw goes slack, head tilting to the side as he watches you. “I’ve never…felt like this before.”

You hum softly, “Let me show you,” you murmur, before slowly closing the distance, lips brushing against the tip.

You can see the way he’s struggling to stay in control, every shiver and hitch of his breath a testament to the pleasure you’re coaxing from him.

Tech’s hand hovers over your hair, uncertain, as if he’s both eager and afraid to interfere. His breathing staggers as you finally take him in—slow, shallow, just the head at first. You wanted him to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

“Tech…” you moan needily against him, tongue flicking softly over the sensitive tip. His hips jerk involuntarily, a surprised groan slipping past his lips. 

You then let your mouth close over him again with a slow motion, sliding just a little farther down this time. His eyes close, brows furrowing. Every small movement makes him tremble against your lips, and you can feel how hard he’s already grown.

“You’re amazing,” he gasps softly, voice almost a whisper. His hands finally move, gently pressing your head closer, guiding you but hesitating with each careful motion, as if afraid to overstep.

You hum around him, the vibration making him shiver. “Just relax… let me take care of you,” you whisper. His body responds immediately, hips shifting slightly, pressing into your mouth despite his attempts at restraint. 

When you glance up at him, you're almost breathless. 

His eyes half-lidded, sweat beading at his temple and breaths coming fast. You give a teasing swirl with your tongue, letting your lips slide over the sensitive head before backing off slightly, giving him a moment to adjust. His hand twitches, gripping your hair a little more firmly, guiding you almost instinctively now. “Darling,” he groans and then whimpers your name deliciously. 

You smirk against him, now letting your hand mirror your mouth. You stroke him slowly as you then start to take more, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The combination of your hand and mouth makes him shiver violently, a strangled groan escaping him as he slowly loses more control.

Tech’s mind seems to whirl as every touch you give him brings another tremor, another gasp. His eyes search yours as if to make sure this is okay, and you give him nothing but encouragement.

“I… I can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs, voice low and strained, not used to saying things like this but desperate to let you know. His words make your stomach flutter, and you give him a small, teasing smile.

“I can’t wait to let you,” you purr as you change tactics and slide down just a touch. Softly, your lips brush against the sensitive skin of his balls. His breath catches with a surprised sound as you take one into your mouth, sucking sweetly

Tech brings one hand to your shoulders, gripping as he lets out a shaky moan. “Ah—fuck… that’s perfect,” he stammers, voice trembling as he shifts slightly, pressing closer. 

You hum around him, rolling him gently between your lips. Every careful movement draws another sharp intake of breath, another strangled groan from him, and you can feel the shiver running down his spine.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he whispers as his hips twitch involuntarily. You take it slow, letting him adjust to every sensation, rewarding his words with gentle, teasing licks and slow, deliberate suction.

You lift your head just enough to look at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I like hearing you talk like that,” you tease, gently kissing his inner thigh and giving him a moment to breathe. Though the tension in his body makes it clear he doesn’t want the pause to last long.

He swallows hard, eyes dark with want, a faint quiver in his chest. “Don’t… stop,” he whispers, almost pleading.

You move your lips back to his cock, groaning against him as you move your head up and down. “I… I can’t—” he starts but then chokes off into a strangled groan. His hips jerked again, betraying the rapid pulse of pleasure building.

He whines in a way that’s both desperate and sweetly innocent, his chest rises and falls so fast you know he’s close.

“Please… I—fuck—don’t stop,” voice strained and words tumbling over each other, his control slips. You hum around him, letting your lips tighten just slightly, rewarding him with that pressure, his hands clenching your hair in desperation.

He thrusts into your mouth despite his attempts to hold back, and his voice breaks into loud, shaky moans. “Ah! Oh stars, fuck.” The words trail off as he loses control entirely, his release spilling hot and thick into your mouth. You don’t pull back, letting him ride out every pulse, your hands still steady and attentive, coaxing him through the overwhelming wave.

He collapses back slightly, breath ragged as stars cloud his vision. Hands were still tangled in your hair whilst he was unable to speak for several long seconds. You swallow every drop, panting softly as you release him.

Tech’s eyes were half-lidded and glazed with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I didn’t warn—” he starts, but you cut him off with a soft laugh, pressing your forehead to his. “Shh… you did amazing,” you murmur. His hand moves to your hip, still lingering as if needing your presence to ground him.

For a few minutes, you simply lie there beside him, letting the heat of your bodies and the rapid pulse of his heartbeat calm down. Tech’s free hand finally drops, resting gently over yours that sat on his chest. 

“My turn.” 

Tech got off the bed and then suddenly, he reached down and grabbed you with such strength and care, he lifted you into his arms. In a blur you were off the bed and across the suite, your back pressing to the cool surface of a wide dining table as he set you down. His eyes burned, unblinking, as if he’d been possessed by a thought too intoxicating to ignore.

“I have always fantasised about this,” he admitted breathlessly, his lips curling as he licked them, gaze dropping between your thighs. “Enjoying… oral sex with a woman laid out before me, like this.”

Your breath caught, heat scorched across your face and spread down your chest as his hands slid up and down your legs. 

You watch in awe as Tech dragged a chair forward and sat down, sliding close until he was level with your hips.  He looked like he’d been presented with a feast. 

“I must warn you,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, “I am not an expert. But I am a quick learner.”

You were about to reply, to reassure him, but your words were swallowed in a sharp gasp when his tongue darted out, running a long, wet stripe up your folds.

“F–fuck, Tech—” your back arched, hands flying to clutch the edge of the table.

He groaned at the taste, his eyes closing. Then, his lips latched onto your clit, sucking with gentle, exploratory pressure. He hummed against you as though testing the reaction, adjusting the angle of his tongue, cataloguing every twitch and moan you gave him.

One of his hands slid higher, holding you open for him, while the other pressed lightly against your hip to keep you from squirming away. He pulled back just for a second, voice low and rough with desire:

“You taste incredible.” He cooed, kissing your pussy briefly, “I must have more.”

And then his mouth was on you again, hungrier this time, his tongue moving in firmer strokes as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His lips sealed over your clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking in short desperate bursts that had you crying out. He moaned into you at the sound, messy slurps filling the room as though he didn’t care how unrefined it was. 

“Tech, baby...” you gasped, unable to stop yourself.

The single word had his entire body twitch, his hips shifting against the chair as though you’d jolted him with a live current. He pulled back just long enough to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, saliva glistening where his mouth had been. His breathing was ragged, lips swollen.

“‘Baby’,” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “You called me ‘baby’. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. 

He ducked back down, sucking at you hungrily. His tongue flattened, dragging long strokes up your pussy before circling your clit, then back again, never settling in one place for long. It was clumsy and perfect. 

Then, with his lips still latched around you, you felt his finger sliding up, hesitating at your entrance. He pulled back, his voice trembling but firm.

“if I may,” he whispered, kissing just above your mound, his nose brushing you, “I want to give you more. I want to feel you… inside.”

“Do it,” you whimpered, hips rolling up toward him.

His breath shuddered, and then he pressed his finger slowly into your heat, his lips returning to your clit as though he couldn’t bear to leave it.

“Oh… you are so tight,” he groaned, almost to himself, his forehead pressing to your thigh. “My hypothesis was correct. You feel indescribable. Better than anything...”

Your toes curled, thighs shaking as his finger began to pump, careful but eager and curling as though searching. He muttered against your skin between hungry licks:

“Tell me… what you need. Tell me how to perfect it. I want to learn you—completely.”

Another moan ripped from you, and you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as you gasped, “You’re perfect already, Tech. Kriff, you’re making me lose my mind.”

He groaned into you, the sound vibrating right through your clit, his messy mouth and that insistent finger making your whole body quake. You could feel how careful he was, how he paid attention to every gasp, every twitch of your thighs. But as your hips rolled, greedily seeking more, something inside him snapped.

His motions quickened, from measured strokes to sharp thrusts that made your breath stutter. A second finger slipped inside before you even registered it, stretching you deliciously as his mouth sealed back around your clit.

“Tech—oh f–fuck, Tech!” you sobbed, your nails scraping the table as his fingers pistoned in and out, faster, harder, the wet slap of his palm against your cunt echoing through the suite.

He pulled back just enough to gasp against your soaked folds, his voice rough and wrecked: “Grind on me. Grind that perfect pussy against my hand, against my mouth. I want you to use me. Please.”

The raw desperation in his tone made your stomach twist with heat. Your hips obeyed before your mind caught up, grinding down on his face, against the thrust of his fingers, slick smearing over his chin. 

“Cum for me. Cum on my face—please, I need it, I need to taste it.”

That was it. You broke.

Your cry tore through the room, high and raw as your body seized, your thighs clamping around his head. He held you down, his fingers thrusting mercilessly, his mouth latched to your clit as if he’d die without it. White-hot pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave crashing until you thought you’d unravel entirely.

He moaned into you like it was his own release, his lips soaked wet as you rode out every last tremor against his hungry mouth and eager fingers.

And still, even as you shook and whimpered from the overstimulation, he whispered into your slick folds:

“You taste exquisite.”

Your body still quivered from the orgasm when Tech finally pulled his mouth from you. His eyes are wild and yet tender.

He stands as you sat up on the table trying to catch your breath as he gently steadies you, his thumbs stroking your waist. His sweetness disarmed you, even in the haze of lust.

“How… did I do?”

Your heart fluttered. Maker, this man. Even with his mouth still glistening from you, he was innocently asking for feedback. You smiled lazily, brushing his jaw.

“You were perfect, Tech. Better than perfect.”

He wipes his face and leans in slowly, kissing your lips so sweetly you could cry. 

You gasped softly when you felt his cock, hot and heavy, brushing against the inside of your leg as if demanding your attention. You bit your lip, eyes dragging down to see it. Long, flushed, desperate. Your thighs clenched in anticipation.

“I’m ready,” you then whispered, voice soft as you met his gaze again. “If you are.”

His breath stuttered, but his grip on your waist firmed, pulling you closer to the table’s edge. One hand shifted lower, guiding himself, his cock sliding up and down your soaked folds. The friction made you whimper, made your hips chase him instinctively.

“Stars, Tech,” you moaned, nails curling into his shoulders. “I couldn’t have imagined us end up fucking like this.”

A sound left him, half a laugh, half a groan. He leaned down and captured your mouth in a kiss, swallowing the heat of your words, his tongue moving with uncharacteristic boldness against yours.

You thought he was about to push into you, every nerve sparking with anticipation as the thick head of his cock nudged your entrance. But instead, he drew back suddenly. Without warning, his arms slid under you, lifting you off the table.

You gasped, clinging to him, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“Tech—!” you laughed breathlessly.

“I want you comfortable,” he said with quiet determination, carrying you as though you weighed nothing.

Your stomach swooped as he carried you back to the bed, your body pressed tight to his, his cock brushing against your thigh with every step. You purred, voice husky with both admiration and lust. “Didn’t know you were this strong,” you teased, your lips brushing his ear.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his body hovering over yours. His eyes drank you in like you were his whole galaxy. “Strength,” he murmured, crawling over you, “is not exclusive to the battlefield.”

His cock pressed against your folds again as he settled between your legs, and you shivered, your hands running over his bare chest.

Tech positioned himself with such intent it made your breath hitch. His cock nudged against your entrance again, slick and hard, and this time he didn’t pull back. He held himself steady with one hand braced on the mattress by your head, the other guiding his length but his eyes never left yours. “I am going to proceed slowly,” he whispered, voice thick, like he was trying to talk himself through this moment. “Tell me if it is too much. Please.”

You nodded quickly, already trembling with anticipation. 

And then he pressed forward.

The head of his cock stretched you open, dragging a whimper from your throat as your head fell back into the pillows. Inch by inch, he slid inside, his jaw dropping open as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling.

“Oh… Maker,” he exhaled as his whole body shuddered, hips stalling for a moment as your walls clenched around him. “You are—gods, so warm. It is—” he broke off with a ragged moan, lowering his forehead to your shoulder.

Your fingers dug into his back, nails raking lightly over his trembling muscles. “Tech—Tech, please… move,” you whispered, your voice wrecked. “I need you to.”

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes wide and searching, like he was memorising every twitch of your expression. His hips rolled slowly, easing himself deeper until he was fully seated inside you. You gasped, clutching him closer.

“Perfect,” he breathed, his words hot against your ear. “You fit me perfectly, mesh’la. As though you were designed to. I cannot…” His breath hitched as he began to withdraw slowly, the drag of his cock sending sparks through your body. “…I cannot believe this is real.”

You moan softly which spurs him on. “You make such beautiful sounds,” his voice trembles with reverence and lust all at once. His pace stayed slow, almost torturous. “Each one… mine. All mine.”

“Tech—” you whimpered, scratching lightly down his back again, hips rolling to meet his. “Feels so good, baby, please—harder, I can take it.”

His lips parted, and he let out a groan so raw it made your walls flutter around him. He gasped, thrusting just a little deeper and a little firmer. 

Your hands slid up to cup his face, pulling him down into a desperate kiss, moaning into his mouth as his cock filled you again and again.

Your teeth caught his lower lip in a gentle bite, nothing more than a tease, but it undid him. Tech’s breath stuttered against your mouth, his hips rolling instinctively, burying his cock deeper in the slick heat of your pussy. His whole body pressed flush against yours, his weight grounding you, as though he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.

“Fuck, mesh’la,” he whispered against your lips, the word in Mando’a rumbling like velvet from his chest. His hips moved in slow, controlled thrusts, every drag of his length inside you tender but devastating. “So beautiful.”

He kissed along your jaw and throat, until he reached the swell of your breasts again. With a shaky groan, he cupped one in his hand and bent to kiss it, lips brushing featherlight across your hardened nipple. You gasped at the touch, your fingers tangling in his hair instinctively.

“Ohh, Tech—” you moaned softly.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration making your nipple pebble harder before he opened his mouth, tongue swirling in an experimental circle. He flicked over the peak, then drew it between his lips and sucked gently. The sensation ripped a whimper from your throat, your hips lifting to meet his.

“Darling,” he whispered in awe, switching to your other breast with careful attention, licking and kissing the hard peak as though it were something to be worshipped. “I have… dreamed of this. Dreamed of you…of having you this way.”

His words spilled out without thought, unfiltered confessions meant only for you. At his admission, your pussy clenched tight around him, squeezing him so hard he groaned against your breast. His hips faltered, stuttering inside you, before he dragged back in slow, sweet thrusts again.

“Oh—fuck, baby,” you whispered breathlessly, clutching his head closer to your chest as your body trembled under him. “You’ve dreamed about me? About us?”

His tongue dragged wetly across your nipple again, followed by another suck that made your toes curl. He pulled back just far enough to pant.

“Yes,” he admitted in a husky whisper, his hips rolling deeper as though to emphasise the truth. “Every night I wanted to know how it would feel to be inside you. To feel you—clenching around me like this.” His lips sealed back around your breast.

Your head tipped back into the pillows, a soft cry breaking free as his words hit you as hard as his cock did. The tenderness of his pace, his whispered Mando’a, his lips at your chest.

“Tech,” you breathed, cupping his jaw and forcing his brown eyes to stay on yours. “Let me ride you. Please, I wanna ride your cock.”

His eyes widened, lips parting as though he’d never even considered such a thing. But when you rolled your hips, squeezing around him he swallowed hard and nodded. “Y-Yes. Whatever you wish, cyar’ika.”

You smiled, before pushing gently at his chest. He let you roll him over without resistance, his back hitting the mattress as he watched you climb above him. Your hair was mussed, your tits bouncing with every movement, and his pupils were blown so wide they nearly swallowed the iris.

You hovered over him, grabbing his cock and stroking it once, slick with both of you. He groaned at the sight, fists gripping the sheets tight, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

“Stars,” he whispered shakily. “I can’t believe this is happening...”

You smirked and lined him up, lowering yourself slow until his thick length filled you all over again. Both of you moaned, the sound tangled between you—his low and broken, yours high and needy.

“Tech,” you gasped, biting your lip as you sank down to the hilt, “Fuck, you feel so good.”

His head dropped back against the pillows as his mouth fell open in a groan. “Oh—ohhh. Maker, mesh’la. You are... You’re so—tight, ahh!” You started moving, your hips lifting before sinking back down, setting a steady rhythm. Your moans came quicker, your body already greedy for him, but your eyes never left his face.

“You like watching me, baby?” you teased between moans, bouncing a little faster. “You can’t stop staring at me, can you? Don’t even wanna blink.”

He nodded frantically, voice breaking with every upward drag of your pussy around him. “No—no, I cannot. You’re… mesmerising. Stars, you’re—” His words dissolved into a loud moan, his fingers twisting the sheets so hard they might tear. 

There was something about watching such a confident and talkative man suddenly struggle for words.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you picked up the pace, your tits bouncing with each thrust down. “You’re so fucking big, Tech—ahhh, fuck. Filling me up so good.”

His chest vibrated with another groan, hips jerking up to meet yours involuntarily. “Cyar’ika, I—I cannot hold back when you speak this way.”

“Good,” you panted, smirking down at him through hooded eyes. “Don’t. I want it messy, baby. I want you messy for me.”

His eyes rolled back, his breaths turning ragged. You rode him harder, sweat slicking your skin, until the pressure coiled sharp in your belly.

“Spank me,” you begged suddenly, desperate. “Please, Tech—spank me.”

He groaned as though the request ripped through him, his hands immediately leaving the sheets to grab your arse. His long fingers squeezed, spreading your cheeks, before he gave you a firm, open-handed smack. The sharp sting made you cry out and clench around him, sending shockwaves through both of you.

“Ohhh, yes! Fuck, just like that!” you moaned, grinding down harder.

Tech’s lips parted on a ragged moan, his hips snapping up into you as he spanked you again, firmer this time. “You’re—so responsive. So perfect—”

“Harder, baby. Spank me harder.”

He obeyed without hesitation, another sharp smack echoing in the room. Your pussy fluttered around him, your cries growing louder as his grip alternated between spanking and guiding your hips down onto his cock. His moans grew desperate, shaky, every sound raw and unrestrained.

“Mesh’la,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Watching you riding me… feelin’ you—it’s… oh, stars, it’s divine.”

You leaned down, kissing him rough and needy, your words muffled against his lips as you moaned, “You were made for me, Tech. My perfect man.”

That praise alone nearly undid him. In a blur of strength, Tech sat up, grabbed your waist, and lifted you clean off the bed. You gasped in surprise, your legs automatically wrapping around his lean frame as his cock never left your dripping cunt. His lips were on your neck before you could catch your breath—open, bruising kisses marking you as he pressed you hard against the wall.

“Ohhhh! Tech!” you cried, head falling back as his hips snapped up into you, each thrust slamming deep, the sound of your bodies obscene. “Oh fuck, you’re so good—so fucking good!”

He moaned against your throat, his breath hot and ragged. “Maker, you make it easy. So responsive, so beautiful—I cannot stop myself—”

You clung to him, nails digging into his back as your cunt squeezed around him tight. “Don’t stop, baby—please, don’t stop—”

His pace grew erratic, his moans vibrating against your skin as he panted into your neck. “Darling you should not praise me so—it—it makes me—ahhh—” Another sharp thrust, and you cried out, your legs trembling around his waist.

You laughed breathlessly through the moans, your lips brushing his ear. “For a beginner, you’re so fucking good. You’re ruining me.”

Something primal flickered in his eyes, and with a groan, he tore you away from the wall and carried you back to the bed. The world tilted before you landed soft against the mattress, Tech above you, not once letting his cock slip free.

He adjusted, grabbing your leg and hooking it over his arm, angling himself deeper as his hips ground against yours. His voice was a husky growl, unlike anything you’d heard from him before.

“Little cockwarmer,” he muttered, almost reverent, almost feral. “That’s what you are.”

Your cunt pulsed at the name, a broken moan spilling from your lips. “Fuck—Tech—”

His hips shifted again, finding a new angle that made your body jolt with every thrust. He pinned you with his hand gripping your thigh, holding you open for him. It was a dominant way that made you dizzy.

“I’m going to—” His voice caught, his moan guttural. “I am going to fuck you harder, cyar’ika. Hard enough that you—cry my name.” His teeth caught his lip as he bent close, pushing further into you with wild eyes. “And then I will spill my seed into you. Fill you…make certain you never forget your first time with me.”

The promise alone made your pussy clench desperately around him, your eyes glassy as you gasped, “Mmmm yes, Tech, harder—”

He groaned raggedly and pulled back before slamming into you again, the bedframe groaning with the force. Your cries rose higher, raw and broken, every thrust dragging you closer to the edge again as he held your leg tight, owning every part of you.

A raw need made his hips piston into you perfectly. The slap of his balls against your soaked pussy echoed in the room, filthy and wet, the sound alone enough to have you keening.

Your leg trembled in his iron grip as he held it high, opening you wide for him. His thrusts were so deep you could barely breathe.

“Oh—oh fuck, Tech!” you cried, your hands clawing at the sheets as your tits bounced with every slam of his hips.

His other hand left the sheets and moved to your chest, groping and squeezing your breasts as if he couldn’t get enough of them. His fingers pinched your nipples harshly, rolling them between his fingers until you yelped in pleasure.

“That’s it,” Tech groaned, briefly wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Maker, you take me so perfectly.”

You whimpered his name, legs shaking, body already begging for release.

His grip on your breast slid down, hand moving with precision to your swollen clit.

“I am going to touch you here,” he rasped, “I want to feel you convulse around me when you cum.”

And then his fingers were on you—fast, clever, circling and rubbing your clit with the same intensity as his thrusts. The double assault made you scream, your hands flying to his forearms for something to anchor yourself against.

“Tech! Oh stars—don’t stop—fuck, please don’t stop!”

His hips snapped hard, balls smacking wetly against your cunt with every thrust. “Cum for me,” he begged, still pinching your nipple with his free hand. “Cry my name. Let me feel you milk me dry. I want—ahh—I need to see you lose yourself on my cock.”

Your whole body tensed, fire coiling tight in your belly as the messy, relentless rhythm of his cock and fingers dragged you to the edge.

Your orgasm tore through you so violently it was almost unbearable.

Your back arched off the bed, mouth falling open on a strangled cry as your cunt clenched down around Tech’s cock like a vice. Another wave of white- heat ripped through your body, more powerful than before as you spasmed helplessly around him.

“F–fuck—Tech!” you sobbed, eyes rolling back as stars burst behind your lids.

But Tech didn’t stop.

If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him harder. His hips kept rutting into you with deep thrusts. Your whole body shook, overstimulated and raw, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes as his cock dragged every ounce of pleasure from you past the point of sanity.

“Cyar’ika…” he groaned, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath ragged. “You feel... I don’t want to stop yet. I cannot—I need you longer.”

Your words came out slurred, weak, desperate and totally cockdrunk. “P-please fill me up, baby… I can’t—oh stars—I can’t anymore…”

The pleasure began blurring into near pain—but you wanted it, wanted him, even as your body writhed helplessly under his relentless pace.

His groans are raw as he cooed your name when his hips stuttered, cock pulsing deep inside your soaked heat as he finally let go.

With a guttural moan, Tech buried himself to the hilt, grinding his pelvis against your overstimulated clit as his release surged hot and thick inside you.

“Maker—yes—take it all. Stars above, you were so good for me…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking as he pumped every drop of himself into you.

You gasped weakly, legs trembling around him, your nails dragging along his back as his cock pulsed deep, filling you until you could feel it leaking down your thighs.

Tech held you close through the aftershocks, chest pressed to yours, lips brushing your damp cheek as he whispered almost reverently, “Cyar’ika… ner kar’ta… you’ve undone me entirely.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of the aftermath settle over you. The room was quiet except for your ragged breathing and Tech’s soft, anxious murmurs. He rolled over briefly, grabbing his goggles from the night stand and adjusted them back on.

“Was that… pleasant enough?” he asked, almost as if he needed your approval to believe it himself.

You rolled your eyes playfully and leaned forward to press a tender, lingering kiss against his mouth. It was slow but full of affection and warmth. Pulling back slightly, you whispered against his lips, “You did so well…”

A soft, almost whiny sound escaped him, his body visibly trembling at the praise. He wanted to bask in it, let it rattle him further—but the moment he remembered you, concern immediately took over.

“I did not hurt you… correct?” His hands hovered over you, unsure whether to touch or fuss, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Was it too much? Too fast? Did I—did I overwhelm you?”

Your eyes soften so you run a hand along his cheek. “I’m fine, Tech. Really. That was amazing,” you reassured him, voice gentle, coaxing him to relax.

Even as he let out a faint sigh of relief, his protective instincts didn’t subside. He reached down, lifting you into his arms effortlessly, holding you close against his chest. Your head rested on his shoulder, heart hammering, as he continued to fuss, his voice laced with concern and admiration.

“Your legs… are you sore? Your back? Please, tell me. I want to know if you’re okay… truly.”

“Tech, you’re fine. I’m fine.” You soothe, tracing a hand over his chest. He nodded slowly, though his eyes betrayed the way he was still processing everything. “Good… good,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before burying his face in your hair. “I just wanted to be certain as I have never-”

You shook your head, smiling as you tightened your hold around him. “I know, Tech. But you did wonderfully. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that before.”

Even in the aftermath, the closeness and the warmth of him holding you felt almost intoxicating.

After a long, tender cleanup, the two of you found yourselves side by side in the suite’s shower. The warm water cascaded over you both, steam curling around your bodies. 

Tech’s hands were careful, almost shy as they moved along your shoulders and back, washing away the remnants of your shared intensity. You mirrored him, letting your fingers trace the lines of his chest and arms, feeling the steady beat of his muscles beneath your touch.

It was sweet and even almost comical at times. 

Tech fussed over the soap and hair products while you laughed at him. The intimacy wasn’t rushed or overtly sexual this time; it was simple and comforting. 

Afterwards, wrapped in the plush towels, you returned to the bed. The sheets were cool against your skin, but the warmth of Tech pressed against you quickly erased any chill. You lay side by side, limbs occasionally brushing. 

You spoke about everything and nothing. Hours passed like this, the night stretching peacefully around you. When sleep began to take over again, you cuddled closer to him. 

As dawn’s early light spilled into the suite, you pressed your lips lightly against the curve of his shoulder and whispered, “I’m really glad I saw that holoposter…”

Tech turned his head slightly, eyes still heavy with sleep, a soft smile on his face. “So am I.”

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