Sofiaa

I’m slowly forgetting your face

Blyla

Commander Bly and Aayla Secura

Aayla Secura🩵

Pairing: Kix x fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Lovers, NSFW! Minors dni, SMUT, fingering, spicy, happy ending, aftercare, P in V sex,

It’s a short and spicy story about Kix and you, hope yall will enjoy.

Kix x nameless female (you)

The hum of the medbay was oddly soothing tonight. Quiet, dimly lit, filled only with the soft whir of equipment and the occasional beep of monitors. I leaned against the wall and watched him work—Kix, the ever-steady hands behind so many saved lives. Always calm. Always composed. Always giving.

And always hiding how much he was hurting.

“You should sleep.” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t look up right away. Just kept organizing a tray of sterilized tools like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Says the person standing there looking at me like I’m about to fall apart.” he muttered, voice dry but not unkind.

I stepped away from the wall. “I’m worried about you.”

That made him pause.

He finally looked at me then—really looked at me—and I swear, my breath caught. There was something in his eyes. Not tiredness. Not sarcasm. Something raw. Needy.

“I’m always the one doing the worrying.” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. “But when you say it… I actually believe it.”

I didn’t respond right away. I didn’t know how to. The space between us felt heavy all of a sudden, like if I stepped too quickly, it would shatter.

So I moved slowly. Carefully. Stopping just in front of him.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” I said. My voice trembled slightly. “Not with me.”

For a moment, all he did was stare. And then something shifted. A breath. A decision.

“Can I just…” He swallowed. “Can I just be yours tonight?”

My heart clenched. I nodded, afraid my voice might break if I tried to speak.

His hands came up to my face, warm and steady despite how tired he looked. He cradled me like I was breakable, like I mattered more than he knew how to say. And then he kissed me—soft, slow, like he needed this. Needed me.

I kissed him back with everything I had.

Somehow, our hands found their way to each other’s armor. I helped him with his chest plate, and he helped me with mine. There was no rush, no frenzy—just this deep ache, like we’d both been waiting for this without realizing it.

He led me to the cot in the corner of the medbay, pulling the curtain closed behind us.

The mattress was small, but it didn’t matter. I lay back and he hovered over me, gaze full of something I could only describe as reverence.

His fingertips traced my skin like a map he’d memorized, and when he whispered my name, it wasn’t lust. It was devotion.

I reached for him. “I want this.” I whispered. “I want you.”

He kissed me again—deeper this time—and everything else faded away.

Tonight, he wasn’t just the medic holding others together.

Tonight, he was mine.

And I was his.

His body hovered over mine, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin but still holding back, like he was giving me one last chance to stop this.

But I didn’t want to stop. Not tonight. Not with him.

“Kix.” I whispered, running my fingers down the side of his face, feeling the rasp of his stubble under my touch. “I’m sure.”

His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but instead he leaned down and kissed me again—deeper now, hungrier. His weight settled against me slowly, and I gasped softly at the way our bodies fit together, all warmth and friction and aching want.

He tasted like something I’d been missing without realizing it.

I felt his hands at my waist, tugging away the last layers between us. My breath caught as the cool air brushed my now-bare skin, but the heat from his touch chased the chill away.

“You’re so beautiful.” he murmured against my throat, his voice low and reverent.

I arched into him as his mouth traced along my collarbone, slow and aching, while his hands mapped every inch of my body like he was learning me from memory. He wasn’t rushed. He wasn’t greedy.

He worshipped.

Every caress was a question. Every kiss was an answer.

He slid his finger in slowly, careful not to hurt me. He started moving his finger in and out, being extra gentle as he prepared me for his much larger size. Then after i got wet enough , he slid one more in, then a third. His thumb found that perfect spot, circling slowly as the tension coiled in my belly like a fire about to snap. My whole body trembled beneath him. He slowly pulled his fingers out just to push them back in with a more forceful thrust, making sure i’m fully ready for him.

He pulled his fingers out and positioned himself between my legs.

When he finally slid inside me, we both stilled—our foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other’s air. It wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just desire.

It was everything.

His movements were slow at first, deep and patient, like he wanted to feel every second of this. Of me. His hands gripped my hips, grounding himself, and I clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as pleasure bloomed hot and steady inside me.

He groaned my name like a promise.

“Kix.” I breathed, over and over, because it was the only word that made sense.

“You feel… gods, you feel like home,” he whispered hoarsely against my ear.

He picked up the pace, thrusts growing deeper, more intense—but never rough.

“I’m—Kix, I—”

“I’ve got you.” he murmured, lips at my jaw. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

And I did.

As i tightened around him, he groned into my mouth as i came undone. One hand moved to wrap around my waist, while the other one gently cupped my face, as he thrusted into me through the orgasm.

The pleasure hit me like a wave, shattering through me in sparks and heat and something close to tears. I felt him follow moments later, his body tightening above me as he buried himself deeper with a raw, choked moan of my name.

He collapsed beside me, panting, then immediately pulled me into his arms like he never wanted to let go.

We lay there for a while, tangled in each other, limbs warm and bodies buzzing with what we’d just shared.

After a long silence, he brushed my hair back and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“I think I fell in love with you.” he said, so quietly I almost missed it.

I smiled, heart full and sore and alive.

“Good.” I whispered, resting my head on his chest. “Because I already loved you.”

His fingers traced slow patterns over my bare back, warm and grounding, even as sleep threatened to pull me under.

But I felt him stir beneath the sheets. Felt the way his hand lingered at the curve of my waist. The way his breath hitched slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Kix…?” I murmured sleepily, cracking one eye open.

He didn’t answer with words at first. Just kissed me—soft, deep, unhurried. Like he was asking if I still wanted him. If I was still his.

I kissed him back with an answer louder than words.

A moment later, he shifted, sitting up in the bed and pulling me gently with him until I was straddling his lap, thighs on either side of him, knees digging slightly into the thin mattress.

“You alright like this?” he murmured, hands steady on my hips.

“More than alright.” I whispered, already feeling the rush of heat between my legs as I adjusted my hips and felt his cock hardening again beneath me.

He groaned low in his throat, grip tightening slightly. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“Good.” I smiled.

And then I sank down onto him.

The stretch was slow and delicious, even after before—maybe because of it. This angle made everything feel deeper, more intense. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as I took him in fully, gasping softly against his neck as his hands gripped my ass to hold me steady.

“You feel… fuck, cyare…” he growled, voice breaking into a shiver of sound. “So perfect around me. So warm.”

I began to move—slow rolls of my hips at first, finding a rhythm, grinding down against him while his hands guided me with quiet urgency. His eyes never left mine.

That’s what made it unbearable.

The way he watched me.

Like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Like every time I moaned his name, he fell a little harder.

“Kix” I whimpered, my forehead pressed to his, my nails raking down his back as I bounced in his lap.

“You’re driving me insane” he rasped. “You look so fucking good like this.”

He kissed me hard then—needy, hungry—his tongue tangling with mine as he thrust up into me in slow, powerful rolls that hit that deep, sensitive spot over and over. My body arched into his, chest pressed to his bare skin, every inch of us tangled together.

The angle, the closeness, the way his fingers dug into my hips and his mouth claimed mine—it was too much. Not enough.

“I’m close” I gasped, eyes fluttering as he hit just the right spot again and again.

“Don’t hold back” he growled. “I wanna feel you fall apart on me. Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

I shattered.

My climax tore through me like fire, my thighs trembling around his hips as I cried out into his mouth. He followed a moment later, gripping me tight, holding me fully seated on him as he spilled deep inside with a strangled moan of my name.

We stayed like that, shaking and panting, my forehead against his, his arms locked around my back like he was afraid I’d disappear.

⸻

We were still in his cot, tangled in sweat-slick skin and twisted sheets. His chest rose and fell beneath me, his arms around my back, my body still trembling from the second time he’d wrecked me.

I should’ve been exhausted. I should’ve been satisfied.

But as I kissed the sweat from his collarbone and felt the faint twitch of him hardening again between my thighs, something dark and delicious curled in my gut.

“You ever done it somewhere you weren’t supposed to?” I asked, my voice soft, teasing against his throat.

Kix blinked, a lazy smile pulling at his lips. “You mean, like, the medbay?”

I grinned. “That doesn’t count. That’s practically your office.”

His brow arched. “You saying you want to be caught, mesh’la?”

“I’m saying…” I sat up slowly, letting the sheet slip from my chest as I leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “…I bet there’s a quiet little storage room off the hangar no one checks this late.”

There was a pause.

Then—a growl.

He sat up so fast it made me laugh, and next thing I knew, I was pressed against the wall of that exact storage room, hips grinding into his as he kissed me like he was starving.

“You’re insatiable” he muttered against my neck, biting lightly. “What’ve you done to me?”

“Ruined you, apparently” I whispered, tugging his belt open.

And he let me.

⸻

The room smelled like durasteel and dust, stacked high with crates and sealed medpacks. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t soft.

But fuck, it was hot.

He had me bent over a low supply crate before I could think, his hand pressed over my mouth, his other gripping my hip as he thrust into me from behind. The angle hit everything, sharp and relentless, and I cried out against his palm, muffled but raw.

“Shh, cyare,” he breathed against my neck, sweat dripping from his brow as he rutted into me. “You wanted risky. Now you gotta be quiet.”

I whimpered as he moved harder, rougher, each slap of skin against skin echoing far too loud in the tiny space.

“K-Kix-“

“I know.” His hand moved between my thighs.

I bit down on my lip, eyes rolling back as he circled that spot with practiced fingers, thrusts deep and punishing now.

Someone walked by just outside.

We both froze.

I could hear their boots. Voices. Talking. Stopping.

My heart slammed into my ribs—but Kix didn’t stop. He just leaned closer, lips brushing my ear.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, sliding deep, so deep I shook.

His hips didn’t stop. Not for a second.

Even with the sound of voices just outside the door—troopers, definitely—laughing, joking, talking about a supply check.

Even with the thunder of boots right next to the wall I was pressed against.

Kix didn’t stop.

He stayed buried deep, moving in slow, brutal thrusts, his body tight against mine, one hand shoved over my mouth, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.

Every inch of him was tense—his jaw clenched, breath harsh in my ear. But his eyes burned. Wild. Starving. Like he was daring the galaxy to hear what he was doing to me.

I made a muffled, broken noise under his hand as he rocked into me again—slow and deep and deliberate. It was too much. Every thrust made heat coil tighter in my core, my knees shaking, my body already too sensitive from the last two rounds.

“Shhh.” he breathed. “They’re right outside.”

He thrust again.

I gasped against his palm.

Boots shuffled. Laughter echoed.

Kix’s cock twitched inside me as he held me still, watching the door with dark, dilated eyes. He was loving it. Loving the risk. Loving the way I was falling apart in his arms, completely under his control.

I tried to squirm—to move, to anything—but he just pinned me harder against the crate and rolled his hips.

“You take me so well,” he whispered filth into my ear, voice low and rough. “You like this, don’t you? Knowing anyone could walk in and see me us?”

I moaned against his hand, thighs trembling violently now.

I couldn’t answer.

I couldn’t think.

He let out a quiet but deep chuckle what made me go crazy.

He was everywhere, inside me, around me, the smell of his skin in my nose, the rasp of his voice curling in my spine.

One of the troopers outside stopped right by the door. “Hey—storage unit seven locked?”

My heart stopped.

Kix froze.

Still inside me. Still throbbing.

I could feel his cock twitch as we both held our breath, motionless.

Another voice answered, casual. “Kix probably locked it earlier. Meds run low again.”

And then—thank the stars—they kept walking.

We didn’t move. Not until the footfalls faded.

And then—

Kix exhaled a dark, shaky breath. “Still want me to stop?”

I shook my head hard, desperate. Feral.

“Didn’t think so.”

He grabbed both of my wrists and pulled them behind my back, holding me steady as he slammed into me again—this time faster. Rougher. His rhythm lost all patience, now that the danger had passed. Now it was just need.

“Gonna make you come so hard you forget your name” he hissed.

And he did.

He fucked me straight into the crate until I shattered—crying out into his skin as my orgasm hit so hard my whole body went limp. My vision blurred. My mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Kix came a second later, with a deep, guttural groan and one final thrust that left us both shaking.

We collapsed against the crate, panting.

I could barely feel my legs.

His hand finally fell from my mouth, trembling slightly, and he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. “Holy kriff.”

“You’re insane.” I whispered, grinning like a devil.

He laughed. “You started it.”

——

My legs were sore, and i nearly fell, while we snuck out of the storage room. Kix chuckled seeing me like this, then after i tripped atleast four times, he came closer and wrapped his hand around my waist.

“I think i need a shower…i probably stink” I said, but then Kix smirked.

“Atleast i was the one making you stink”

———

The second the door to the fresher slid shut behind us, Kix locked it.

He didn’t say a word—just stripped. Fast. Efficient. The same way he field-dressed a wound. Tunic over his head. Belt dropped. Boots kicked off. Naked in seconds.

I followed, slower, shakier, still recovering from the last round that left my thighs trembling and my voice gone.

“Come here.” he said, voice low and rough, reaching for the water control.

Steam hissed from the shower head almost instantly, fogging the air and filling the room with heat. Kix stepped in first, pulling me in with him, his hands sliding around my waist like he couldn’t bear to let me out of arm’s reach.

The water was hot. Almost too hot. But his hands were hotter.

“Let me clean you up.” he whispered.

But he didn’t move to grab soap.

Instead, he backed me into the wall, pressing his body flush against mine, and kissed me.

Hard. Slow. Wet.

His hands explored like they had all night, but now with worship behind the touch. Fingers sliding through the water trailing down my back. Palms smoothing over my hips, my waist, my chest.

“You’re shaking.” he said against my lips.

“You’re the reason.” I whispered.

He gave me that crooked, cocky smile, and Maker, I almost melted right then.

“You sure you’re not tapped out?” he murmured, teasing, brushing my wet hair away from my face.

“You gonna make me beg again?”

His eyes darkened instantly.

“No.” he said, voice hoarse. “This time I’m begging.”

And just like that—he dropped to his knees.

⸻

His hands gripped my thighs and parted them, water streaming down his face and chest, his lips kissing the inside of my knee, then my thigh, then higher—

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Friends (?) to lovers, nsfw, minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, spicy, happy ending, aftercare.

It’s a short (and spicy) story of you and Tech, because i can’t sleep (yes, i know, i’m a freak). Soo yeah, enjoy.

Shorty, the story is Tech is a yapper, and you love looking at him or listening to him, but you start daydreaming of him, and he notice it then things get spicy. GOOD ENDING? AFTERCARE!!!!

Tech was explaining something. Again.

You sat across from him in the Marauder’s small common area, head tilted lazily to the side, chin resting on your palm. His voice was a familiar melody: quick, precise, filled with big words and endless streams of knowledge about mechanics, the ship’s nav systems, hyperspace routes — you weren’t sure anymore. You’d tuned out about three paragraphs ago.

Because Force, he was so…gorgeous. His eyes, his face, his skin. It was not hot or sexy. It was pretty.

You could stare at him forever. And honestly, you often did.

The sound of Tech’s voice, quick and certain, was one of your favorite things in the galaxy. He could yap on about hyperdrives, planetary ecosystems, ship repairs—and you’d sit there, completely enchanted, chin resting on your hand, eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his lips moved when he talked so fast he barely breathed.

“And if we adjust our course by approximately two degrees, we’ll avoid the ion storm entirely,” he said, hands flying over the console with practiced ease, eyes glowing behind his goggles. “Which, statistically speaking, raises our chances of survival by a factor of—

Tech paused mid-sentence, adjusting his goggles absentmindedly. His gaze sharpened when he noticed your faraway smile — the one you wore when your mind was definitely not following the lecture.

“Am I boring you?” he asked, a tiny crease forming between his brows.

You jolted upright, feeling your cheeks heat up. “No! No, no — you’re not boring at all, Tech! I was just…thinking.”

His head tilted. Curious. Patient. He was always so patient with you.

“Oh?” he said mildly. “Thinking about what? If you were listening, you should have no trouble repeating the last point I made.”

You froze. Your brain scrambled. What had he even been talking about? Hyperspace trajectories? Ship engines? Astrogation mapping? You threw out the first thing that came to mind:

“Uh…that the, um…plasma conduits need recalibrating because of…residual ion…build-up?”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, before you could stop yourself, your mouth blurted the thought you’d actually been having:

“It’s really hot in here….I am hot…I mean you are! I-what?” I slam my hand over my mouth and blush in embarassment.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric.

Tech blinked slowly behind his goggles. His mouth opened slightly — not in offense, but pure surprise, like he’d just been slapped with a datapad.

You immediately started explaining yourself. “Oh stars, I didn’t mean— I mean, I did! You are pretty! I just—”

Tech’s lips quirked into a very, very small smile — one that was devastating in its subtlety.

“Pretty?” he echoed, voice dipping lower.

I just look at him, blushing in embarassment.

He set down the datapad he was holding with a thunk on the table, rising from his seat with that precise, controlled grace of his. You swallowed hard as he closed the distance between you in two slow steps.

“You find me aesthetically pleasing,” he said, more statement than question. His gloved fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his.

“Maybe-“ you said, but Tech stopped you mid sentence.

“Do you?” He smirks.

You barely managed a breathless “Yes,” before Tech leaned down and kissed you — precise at first, like he was gathering data, then rougher when you whimpered against his mouth.

And Maker, Tech was good at this.

It shouldn’t have surprised you. He excelled at everything he put his mind to — fighting, flying, fixing. Why not kissing too?

But it still left you breathless, overwhelmed, clutching at the front of his armor as he pressed you back against the wall, mouth devouring yours like you were a problem he was desperate to solve.

You gasped as he trailed kisses down your jaw, slow and calculated, his hands sliding to your waist, thumbs pressing bruising circles into your hips.

His mouth brushed over your skin like a question. Testing. Studying.

You shivered, clutching at the collar of his armor as he kissed a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, your neck, the delicate spot beneath your ear.

“You are remarkably receptive to tactile stimulation,” Tech muttered against your skin, voice husky, curious.

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head to give him better access. “Is that…your way of saying you like kissing me?”

“I adore kissing you,” he corrected, very seriously, before sealing his mouth over your neck and sucking.

Your knees buckled. Tech caught you instantly — one arm looping securely around your waist as he pressed you tighter against the wall. His hands, so steady when fixing blasters and slicing into systems, trembled just slightly now where they gripped you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you — eyes sharp behind the goggles, lips flushed and swollen.

“I hypothesize,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “that I could spend hours…experimenting on what precise touches elicit the strongest responses.”

You whimpered at the idea, and he smirked — tiny, smug, dangerous.

“Would you permit me to test that theory, Mesh’la?”

“Please,” you gasped.

That was all he needed.

Tech kissed you again — harder now, hungrier. His gloves slid under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying over your skin, mapping every curve like you were his own private star chart. His touch was firm but reverent, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or completely devour you.

Your hands fumbled with the clasps of his armor, desperate to feel more of him. He helped, stripping away the layers with quick, efficient motions — like dismantling a weapon — until you could finally run your hands over the firm lines of his body.

Lean, strong, carved from years of discipline and action. You couldn’t help the awe in your voice:

“You’re so.” You moan.

He paused, eyes flickering with something hotter than affection — something closer to pure need.

“Your appreciation is…” He sucked in a sharp breath as your hands roamed his torso, your nails scraping lightly down his sides. “…stimulating.”

You smiled wickedly, dragging your nails a little harder — earning a low, raw sound from him that made your stomach twist with desire.

“Stimulating, huh?” you teased, emboldened.

“In ways I am…having difficulty quantifying,” he admitted, and before you could laugh, he lifted you — effortlessly — pressing you back against the wall again, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

His mouth was everywhere: jaw, collarbone, the tops of your breasts, moving lower, lower. Every kiss was methodical, but getting messier, hungrier, as he lost more and more of that perfect control.

Your heart nearly burst at the sound of it — the claim in his voice.

And then he showed you exactly how serious he was.

He dragged you to the floor in a flurry of kisses and clumsy urgency — Tech, clumsy — his need finally outweighing his precision. He kissed you like a man starved, hands everywhere at once, leaving no inch of you unexplored.

Every touch, every kiss, every desperate grind of his hips against yours — it all felt like a star going supernova inside you.

Tech’s kisses trailed from your collarbone down to the delicate swell of your waist, each one calculated and tender yet bursting with an intensity he could hardly contain. His gloved fingertips charted the intricate topography of your skin—a practiced survey that was both clinical and deeply admiring. Every soft murmur and heated whisper was an exploration, a hypothesis he was determined to test.

“Your are absolutely… fascinating,” he breathed, voice low and breathless, as his lips followed the gentle curve of your shoulder. The measured cadence of his language contrasted perfectly with the desperate hunger behind his eyes.

You arched into his ministrations, breathing in his musky scent as his hands roamed with both curiosity and unbridled need.

Without further ado, he began a systematic exploration—each kiss, each caress, every calculated movement sending data straight to the core of your desire. His mouth became a relentless interrogator of your senses, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and unexpected, fervent bursts of passion that drew soft, continuous moans from your lips.

“You said it’s hot in here?” he asks simply. When you nod, he smirks. “Shall we take some…layers off then?”

A few seconds later, the clothes were already on the ground. His steady hands and clear, determined focus left little to chance. He studied your reactions, adjusting his touches with the care of a meticulous scientist and the passion of a lover who had discovered something new with each sensation.

He lays you down, but doesn’t stop kissing you. He climbs on the top of you, and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

He goes lower, and he trails his fingers along your inner thighs, his touch feather light and teasing. Slowly and gently, he spreads your legs wider, exposing your private part. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, making your jump slightly. His tongue replaces his lips, licking a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit. He circles the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell under his touch. He sucks it into his mouth, his fingers spreading your legs wider, to give him better acces. He curls two fingers inside you, finding that spot that makes you whimper and buck your hips. He hooks his fingers upwards, massaging that spot rhythmically as he sucks hard on your swollen bud. He can feel you tensing, your inner walls fluttering around his fingers. He adds a third finger, stretching you further as he continues his relentless assault on your clit. He can feel your orgasm building, your body trembling and your breaths coming in short gasps. He suddently pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue, pushing it deep inside you. You moan up at the sudden action. Feeling your impending orgasm, he doubles his efforts. His fingers replace his tongue, plunging deep and curling upwards to hit that irresistible spot. Simultaneously, his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking with intense preassure while flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly over the sensitive bud. You are so oversimulated, you had no clue he is…good in this…like really good.

He feels your body convulsing with pleasure, and he knows your still riding the waves of your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers out, giving your clit one last gentle suck before lifting his head.

Your legs fall limply off his shoulders as you try to catch your breath. He watches your body, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your shallow breaths.

He kisses you, softly, deeply, knowing you might need a moment. He pulls back slightly, checking your face for any sight of discomfort. Finding none, he smiles softly and whispers “Okay?”. You nod, biting your lip shyly.

His hands trail down your sides, making you shiver. He positions himself between your legs again. “You sure you’re ready?” He asks in a soft voice.

As you nod, he slowly pushes the head of his cock inside you. He watches your face intently, making sure you’re okay. He sees no sign of discomfort on your face, only a look of pleasure. He pushes in further, his thick lenght filling you up completely. He pauses, letting you adjust his size. He leans down to kiss you deeply as he begins to move his hips slowly.

He starts with slow, deliberate thrusts, allowing you to feel every inch of him sliding in and out. His eyes darken with desire as he hears your moans. He grips your hips tightly and starts thrusting harder. He leans over you, his muscular body caging you as he drives into you with increasing force.

His pelvis grinds against your clit with each thrust, the pleasure almost overwhelming. He adjusts his angle, hitting the deepest part of you that makes you see stars. You scream from pleasure, and he kisses you. His movements become more erratic as he feels his own release approaching. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. With a final, powerful thrust, he comes, his seed filling you up.

He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, and pulls out of you.

You laid there together, the air thick with the sweet aftershocks of what you had shared. Tech’s arm was wrapped securely around you, his body pressed close, as if anchoring you to reality after the dizzying heights you had just reached.

He didn’t say much at first—he just held you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow, almost methodical patterns along the bare curve of your spine. His other hand lightly cradled the back of your head, ensuring you stayed tucked perfectly against his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a grounding rhythm that made your own breathing start to slow.

“You’re trembling,” Tech observed, his voice still low and gentle, a subtle roughness lingering from before. He tilted his head down to peer at you through his goggles—still perfectly in place, though his hair was deliciously disheveled. His hand smoothed along your back, almost as if he was trying to catalog every inch of you through careful touch.

“I’m not cold,” you whispered, a little shy, cheeks burning.

“I know,” Tech said simply, drawing a blanket up over both of you in one efficient movement anyway. “It’s a physiological response. Normal after heightened physical exertion and emotional connection.”

Despite the clinical explanation, the way he spoke was soft. He wasn’t analyzing you to create distance—he was doing it because it was how he cared.

You smiled tiredly, reaching up to push a strand of hair off his forehead. “You’re really good…You know that?” you mumbled, still a little dazed.

Tech blinked at you behind his goggles, his brows lifting ever so slightly, but them he smiles. His thumb brushed your cheekbone tenderly, voice going even softer, almost reverent. “I must admit, hearing it from you induces a rather… pleasant feeling.”

He kissed your forehead—a precise, almost formal gesture, but when his lips lingered, you could feel how much he meant it.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked after a moment, scanning you with sharp, concerned eyes. His fingers moved carefully now, checking along your sides, your thighs, your arms. His touch was featherlight but thorough. “I… may have been less restrained than I intended.”

“No,” you reassured quickly, turning your head to kiss his wrist where it hovered. “I feel perfect. Better than perfect.”

Tech gave a soft hum at that—a sound you didn’t hear often, but one that made your chest bloom with warmth. He shifted so he could lay you more securely against him, almost wrapping himself around you like a shield. One hand slipped into your hair, massaging your scalp with the same careful precision he used for everything.

“Good,” he murmured, seeming almost relieved. He paused, then added with a rare, earnest gentleness, “You are… extremely important to me. I trust you understand that.”

Your heart squeezed painfully sweet at the words. You tilted your head back to look at him. “I know, Tech,” you whispered. “I feel the same. More than same.”

He smiled—small, rare, and absolutely real. He leaned down to kiss you again, not urgent now, just lingering, slow, cherishing you. His fingers threaded with yours between your bodies, holding you together as if he’d never let go.

Under the covers, warm and wrapped up with him, you realized that with Tech, aftercare wasn’t just about checking if you were alright. It was about making sure you knew you were treasured.

And he made sure you knew—with every slow stroke of his fingers through your hair, every soft kiss to your temple, and every whispered word breathed against your skin.

You’re loved.

You weren’t sure how much time passed with you tucked against Tech’s chest, listening to his breathing, his heart beating steady and sure. His fingers never stopped moving—stroking your hair, tracing the shape of your shoulder, drawing mindless patterns on your back as if memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch.

Little by little, the adrenaline ebbed away, replaced by a warm, heavy drowsiness that clung to both of you.

Tech shifted a little, tilting his head so he could look down at you properly. His goggles reflected the low light, but you could feel his eyes studying you—the gentle, careful way he always did when something mattered to him.

You are fatigued,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, tender smile.

“Mhm,” you hummed sleepily, nuzzling closer into the crook of his neck. His scent—clean, warm, just a hint of engine grease and soap—filled your senses, and you never wanted to move again.

Without another word, Tech adjusted the blanket more securely over both of you. His arms wrapped tighter around you, careful not to crush you but firm enough that you felt utterly safe. He shifted again, pulling you closer against his side, until your bodies fit together like two halves of a puzzle.

You felt his hand tangle lightly in your hair, fingers rubbing slow, soothing circles against your scalp. It was such a simple thing—but it sent waves of comfort through your body, relaxing muscles you hadn’t even realized were tense.

You mumbled something incoherent against his skin. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say—but Tech gave a small chuckle, low and rare and so full of affection it made your heart ache.

“You do not have to speak,” he said gently, almost amused. “Sleep, cyar’ika.”

You shifted enough to kiss the crook of his neck—soft, lingering—then let your eyes finally flutter shut. Tech kept stroking your hair, his breathing deep and steady beneath your ear, anchoring you.

Just before sleep claimed you completely, you heard him murmur, voice almost inaudible, but thick with something deeper than words:

“I will always be here.”

Safe in his arms, wrapped in warmth, love, and the soft, steady presence that was Tech, you finally drifted into sleep.

Hunter: He would probably be stiff, as he’s not overly expressive with physical touch or affection. However once he’s comfortable with you, he’d relax and return the hug, and would protect you, his hand on your back, and his other hand on your head.

Wrecker: Wrecker would be totally obsessed with hugs, and he would probably lift you off your feet in an excited, bear-like squeeze. He would laugh and chuckle, showing how much he enjoys the physical connection. His hugs would be big and warm, and he’d likely not realize his strenght first, so it might come with a bit of unintentional crushing, but it’s because he’s too excited.

Tech: Tech would be a bit confused and awkward first, since he’s not the most emotionally expressive, but would return the hug. He’s likely freeze for a moment and woud assess/analyze the situation before returning the hug,but if he truly cares about you, he would, and after the hug he would probably start yapping something about the significance of human touch or personal space, but overall he would be okay with it, just a little awkward, confused.

Crosshair: Crosshair would probably be the most reluctant at first. He might tense up or flinch, pulling away slightly. If he truly, and i mean truly cares about you, then he would offer a quick instant hug, or an one-arm hug. In a more believable scenario, if you ran up to Crosshair crying and hugged him, he would awkwardly pat your back or head, but he’d still remain distance. He’d try to keep a bit of space between you, though it would be clear he’s not entirely unaffected by the situation.