#specialistweek

“You can sit there,” he retorted and nodded to a significantly smaller space next to a generator that Tech had smuggled in.

“You are joking,” Tech deadpanned. “There is hardly enough room there for an adolescent cadet, never mind a fully developed adult.”

Echo shifted his gaze from Tech’s unamused stare to the rest of the bed. Tech spoke the truth, and bluntly so. There was little space for even one person, let alone a second. Still, Echo pressed on.

“You could always cuddle, you know,” he countered with a wicked little smirk on his pale lips. “I promise I don’t bite, unless that’s what you’re into.”

Watching Tech bristle and blush was easily Echo’s favorite pastime as the Specialist’s significant other. They hadn’t really put a name to their relationship, but it was clear enough to the both of them that their time together, though so far short, meant something different than their time spent with their other squad members. Echo’s experience and Tech’s inexperience led to some interesting conversations and discoveries, most recently being that Tech was unfamiliar with romantic touches. Of course, this realization only made Echo double down on his effort to show Tech that not all romantic or intimate touch as to be sexual.

“I have not collected enough data to know whether or not that is something that I am, as you say, ‘into,’” Tech muttered, “but I would like to sit in my own bed comfortably.”

Instead of teasing him further, Echo relented, and opened his arms. “Sorry. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Just for a minute?”

With a long suffering sigh, Tech conceded and maneuvered between the clusters of mess to press his back to Echo’s chest. It took him several minutes to settle, adjusting over and over until he fit himself exactly as he wanted with Echo’s chin resting on his shoulder. Only after he was content with his positioning did he produce a data pad from seemingly nowhere and began fiddling with it.

Echo forced back a shiver and held Tech a little tighter. The added weight against his chest was a relief that he didn’t know he needed so desperately until he had it. Things had been…different during his time in the 501st. Touch was openly given and affection was encouraged between clones. He’d spent more nights in someone else’s bunk just for the sake of having another body next to him, usually Fives, occasionally Kix or Jesse, and on the rare occasion, Captain Rex. Going from that to being a prisoner of war, to now the newest member of the mercenary clone group who kept to themselves was something of a culture shock to his system. Having Tech tucked against him, breathing slowly and evenly, existing in his same space felt better than anything had in a long time.

“Echo?” Tech’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts, but it wasn’t until a gentle, ungloved pad of a thumb wiped his cheek and made him realize that he’d been crying. Damn it, just when he’s started to make progress, he’d gone and messed it up with dredging up old memories best left behind.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, startled and mildly ashamed of himself.

Tech shook his head, then frowned. “I do not understand. According to my data, physical affection is supposed to be one of the best relievers of stress and anxiety. Is it not enough?”

Guilt rose up in Echo’s throat, and he swallowed the hot lump forming there. “No, it’s fine, perfect, actually.”

“If that is the case, then why are you upset?” Tech pressed. It was something Echo both hated and admired about his new partner. He was always looking to be better, and that meant asking a lot of questions. He wanted to know everything about everything, and Echo supposed that himself as a subject was no different. Besides, as partners, Echo owed it to him to be honest.

“I guess I didn’t think I needed the affection that badly,” he explained, though it felt childish once the words left his tongue. “Boy was I wrong, apparently.”

A thoughtful hum vibrated Tech’s lips before they kissed Echo’s cheek. It was by no means their first kiss, but it was the first time that Tech initiated anything, and well, that felt nice in contrast to the other feelings welling up inside of Echo.

“I will try to be more attentive to those needs,” Tech affirmed quietly. “I am still getting used to having a romantic partner, but I think that cuddles are a reasonable request that I can fulfill without much difficulty.”

Echo’s heart swelled in his chest. Tech was really something else. He didn’t think he’d ever find another person he could love as much as Fives, but Tech was well on his way to being close, not that Echo was comparing. On the contrary, Fives and Tech were different in almost every single way, but something about them was the same, and Echo could never quite put his finger on what it was. It didn’t matter, though. He was going to love Tech in his own way.

“I…would appreciate that. Thank you,” Echo smiled softly and leaned his forehead against Tech’s. To his surprise, Tech leaned into the touch with a content hum and closed his eyes.

“I will collect more data and make our next cuddle time a better experience,” Tech declared.

On the surface, Tech smelled like sweat and raw passion, a scent indicative of what he and Hunter had been doing moments before, yet there was something far more complex under the surface. Hunter picked up the herbal, soapy scent of the hair product that Tech used to keep the brown strands out of his face. He delighted in the undercurrent of singed wires and ozone that came from the constant tinkering that Tech had to do in order to keep his brilliant mind occupied. Then there was the scent of standard-issue body wash, a smell that was indicative of rest and home.

“I understand that you have heightened senses, but where does this fascination with sniffing me come from?” asked Tech, scratching the back of Hunter’s scalp as Hunter continued to inhale.

“You smell good,” said Hunter. It was a laconic answer, but it was the truth.

“Smelling one’s lover is a bit deviant,” said Tech, “but I’ll allow it.”

“Says the guy who likes to record when we…” Hunter began.

“That was one time, and we both consented to it,” said Tech.

With a strut that demanded attention and a smirk that spoke volumes, Glass approached their usual booth in the back of the cantina. Reaper was already waiting for him with drinks, but the only thing that Glass wanted to drink was the saliva from the man’s tongue and the creamy white cum from his cock.

Reaper caught his gaze and turned a mischievous smirk on him. No doubt his partner’s heightened senses had allowed him to smell the arousal that was oozing off him. The smirk on Reaper’s face turned to a feral, toothy grin as Glass sank not onto the booth next to him or across from him, but straight into his lap so that he could feel how hard he was.

“I take it that things went well?” Hunter questioned as he wasted no time in gripping Glass’s hips and guiding him as they ground together. Patrons turned to watch, some interested, some disgusted, but the regulars knew better than to interfere one way or another. They’d seen too many less fortunate customers lose their heads over it, literally. The owner could say something, but he won’t. He valued his life, and they were well-paying customers. Maybe he was spineless, but Reaper and Glass preferred that way.

“How astute of you,” Glass replied on the tail of a moan and bit down on the pout of his own lip. “Shit, that feels amazing.”

Reaper quirked a brow and allowed his fingers to pick open all of the clasps and zippers to give him access to Glass’s sweet, curvaceous ass. Only then did he feel the sharp vibrations rip through his plush cheeks, and he dragged his fingertips over a hastily fashioned plug opening his man up so nicely.

“Karking hell, Glass,” Reaper groaned and pressed on the plug. “When you said you wanted to build a toy, this is not what I thought you had in mind.”

“It will speed up the necessary time needed to prep,” Glass explained just before Reaper pressed it again and shot it right into one of those sweet little spots. “F-Fuck…”

“You are a filthy man, you know,” Reaper teased low in his throat and growled against the shell of Glass’s ear. “Tell me how you did it. I know you’re dying to explain it.”

Glass shivered, unashamed of the blush that had crept up his neck. “Had some parts that I salvaged on our last trip to Bracca to apprehend that scrapper. Some soddering and polishing work was obviously needed but–ahhh! But it fits me like a glove.”

A dark chuckle slipped from Reaper’s lips as he kissed up and down Glass’s neck, and Glass moaned his name, his true name. “Hunter…”

“Shhh,” Reaper quieted and held him close. “You’re going to cum like this in front of all of these lovely people. Show them how much you need me to fuck you, and then I’ll take you back to the Saboteur to give you what you need, and you can call me whatever you want.”

Glass shuddered harshly. He barely managed a nod with how good he was feeling. Everything seemed to be moving in rewind and fast forward at the same time and his chest heaved as he panted for air. Sweat began to bead along his manicured brow, and his glass eye had registered that his heart rate was climbing steadily. Of course, that was to be expected.

“That’s it,” Reaper praised. “You’re always so good for me, and I will always give you what you need. Just cum for me.”

Another moan echoed from their booth, and it was not lost on either of them that there were a handful of patrons watching and touching themselves. That was something else they’d gotten used to as dead men. Hiding in plain sight was much easier when their new antics were far from their old selves. Sneaking hand jobs in the fresher and carving out five minutes of alone time in the cockpit for a quickie were times of the past as Hunter and Tech. These new lives as feared bounty hunters Reaper and Glass allowed them to be free in a way they would have never dreamed. So, if Glass wanted to get off in the back of a seedy cantina and wield an Inquisitor's lightsaber, then who was Reaper to stop him? He wasn’t his Sergeant anymore. Sergeant Hunter and Specialist Tech were dead in the eyes of the Empire.

“I-I..!” Glass’s breath hitched, and he shook in Reaper’s arms as he tossed his head back and dribbled cum down the front of his pants. “K-Kriff!!”

“That’s it, Tech,” Reaper whispered in his ear. “Beautiful. Let it all go.”

Glass shivered and purred, slumping forward as he caught his breath. The vibrations were still going so strong, and he whined quietly as the initial bliss wore off. “Reaper…the plug…”

“I’ve got you,” Reaper assured as he felt around for the good place to tug it out, and Glass shifted so that he could. He sighed at the loss of having something filling him, but relaxed after having the source of the stimulation removed. Reaper flicked the switch on the edge of the rim to turn it off and openly examined it.

“All of this mess from modified scrap metal,” he mused and kissed the top of Glass’s head. “You never fail to impress me.”

No matter how many times he had heard Tech sing it always gave him goosebumps. For years they had shared a stage, had spent hours upon hours in recording studios and hotel showers alike listening to Tech give his all with his voice, and Hunter was as breathless now as the day he had first heard him sing. Singing wasn’t Tech’s first love. That would always be dancing. Tech was at his best when he could move to the music the way his body dictated it should and expressing himself through flawless and fluid motion. Even though Tech preferred to dance it didn’t take away the fact that Tech could sing, and sing well enough to be a part of a five piece boy band that had three studio albums, two North American tours, a European tour, and a world tour under their belts.

Now that things were beginning to settle down and they were growing up, the members of The Bad Batch had decided to pursue other interests and branch out. For Hunter, that meant a solo mini album that featured the love of his life. Of course, Tech was more than happy to be a part of the project even though he spent much of his time vlogging and hanging out with friends while they did “normal people” things.

Here in this moment, however, despite studio techs and producers being in the booth with them, this was just for Hunter. This was for the two of them.

Hunter shivered when Tech’s eyes locked with his, and Hunter swore his heart skipped several beats. It might be silly, but he really thought that Tech could be a fallen angel, a sarcastic, snarky, sexy angel with a heart of gold and riddled with anxiety. Four years together has seen them through some of the roughest waters either of them have ever traversed, especially as world famous musicians, but Hunter wouldn’t change any of it if that meant that at the end of every day he still got to hold Tech in his arms and get lost in his kisses.

When they listened to the playback of the recording with their voices melding together for a romantic, emotional duet, Hunter felt Tech shiver against him.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked as he laced their fingers together.

Tech took a moment to reply, seemingly thinking about how to word his thoughts. He did this often, and Hunter was patient while Tech gathered his emotions to appropriately explain.

“I didn’t think that our voices together would sound like that is all,” he said finally. “We’ve been performing together for years, but I think this might be the first time I’ve heard our voices sound so…emotional.”

A smile broke out over Tech’s lips as he leaned over to kiss Hunter. “But I guess when you’re recording something that means something special to you it’s going to sound different.”

Then it dawned on Hunter: Tech had made a downright pornographic holorecording a few standard weeks ago, and now was as good a time as any to “use” it. Hunter couldn’t touch Tech at the moment, so this was, of course, the next best thing. Hunter fished his holoprojector out of the depths of his footlocker, activated it, and pulled up the recording in question. He placed the device on his firm stomach and shucked off his pants, exposing his lower half to the cool air.

A tiny, blue-tinged version of Tech materialized as the recording began. His long, thin body was bare and his chest was heaving. The light of the room in which Tech had recorded this filthy scene bounced off of his prominent collarbones, and Hunter could almost feel his teeth sinking into the taut flesh which covered them. Tech’s girthy cock was hard, and it stood flush against his abdomen. A bead of precome pearled at the head.

Hunter reached down and gripped his own cock, which had begun to burn and stir to life the moment the recording began. With broad, calloused hands, he began to tease the length of it with slow strokes.

“I know how badly you have wanted to see me put on a show for you,” said holo-Tech, pulling a sizable dildo from somewhere offscreen. He held the dildo close to his plush lips and ran his tongue along the underside the way that he knew Hunter liked when receiving a blowjob, but then placed the thing down on what Hunter could only assume was the bunk in which Tech was laying. Damn tease. Tech reached offscreen again and produced a tube of slick. He uncapped the container and poured a glistening glob onto his long fingers, which he then snaked up his toned thigh, leaving a wet trail in their wake. When Tech’s fingers finally reached between his supple cheeks and began to breach the tight furl of his hole, Hunter’s strokes sped up. The tip of his cock was leaking, and his hands were getting just as wet as Tech’s.

“You wish these were your fingers,” said Tech, and his voice had a smug edge to it, “So do I. Your hands are so perfect.” Tech worked the pads of his fingers against his prostate, and his breath hitched and his voice cracked as he spoke.

Hunter groaned. Kark yeah, he wished those were his fingers! He knew how to make his partner scream with his probing touch alone, and Tech’s pleasured cries were among the most beautiful of all of the sounds that Hunter knew. One of those gorgeous, keening moans escaped Tech’s lips as he picked up the dildo and began to press it inside of himself, and Hunter could feel his balls starting to draw up. When he was fully recovered, Hunter was going to ruin Tech on his cock and make him beg him to give it to him as hard and fast as was physically possible. It was clear that Tech had this idea in mind when he made the recording, because he was working the dildo into himself in a manner that simulated a hard, deep pounding. Tech’s other hand had found its way to his cock, which he tugged in time with his thrusts.

Tech was the last of the Squad to really take to wearing civvies while off-duty because his armor had a million and one built-in gadgets that allowed him to be prepared and connected. Hunter was only able to convince Tech that wearing civvies was a good idea after bringing up the idea of Tech creating a bevy of new, more casual gadgets to take the place of the ones on the armor. Tech was, of course, never one to pass up an opportunity for tinkering, so after he had a few of these projects under his belt, Hunter accompanied him on a shopping trip.

“How do I look?” asked Tech, emerging from behind the red curtain of a thrift-store dressing room. The outfit that he had found stole Hunter’s breath.

Tech wore a snug, yet comfortable-looking turquoise, sleeveless top with a v-neck that exposed and accentuated Tech’s bite-able collarbone. His toned legs were contoured by a pair of fitted black trousers that he wore tucked into a pair of knee-high boots. Had it not been for the battle scars that covered the clay-colored skin of his arms, Tech could almost have passed for a civilian.

“Do I look hideous?” Tech asked, furrowing his thick eyebrows.

“No,” said Hunter, running his hand through his long, wavy hair. “You look good, maybe too good.”

Tech stepped towards Hunter and rested his hand on the small of his back, brushing his fingers over the green fabric of Hunter’s civilian tunic. “I could say the same about you,” he said, his lips brushing Hunter’s. Tech’s smile was so broad that his eyes crinkled at the corners, so Hunter knew that his partner’s happiness was genuine. Hunter only ever wanted Tech to be happy.

In a burst of levity, Hunter spun Tech around so that his back touched the wall and caged him with his bare arms. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he said “you’ve been starin’ at me all day. Can’t stop lookin’ at you, either.”

“Are you attracted to me?” asked Tech, a playful lilt coloring his voice.

“Thought it was obvious,” said Hunter, before leaning in to kiss Tech the way that he wanted to since they woke up that morning. He licked along the seam of Tech’s lips and slipped his tongue between them. Tech cupped Hunter’s tattooed cheek with a warm hand and kissed back. They stood against the wall, mapping each other’s mouths and breathing each other’s air until a man’s voice interrupted them.

“Go make out somewhere else!” shouted the shopkeeper. Hunter and Tech pulled apart like two cadets who had been caught fumbling in a bunk together. Both men laughed.

This particular round of Data Collection had Tech, armor-less and goggle-less, taken to a room so dark that it put the black ink of the Rokta Squid to shame. The only source of light was the dim and distant glow of a window close to the towering ceiling, where Nala Se and two other Kaminoan scientists whose names Tech did not know stood and pinned him down with their cold gazes. The medical droid that the Kaminoans had graciously provided in the event that Tech collapsed handed him a bag of electronic parts, which he was to assemble into a functioning datapad in the dark as fast as he could. There were, of course, a number of other variables aside from the darkness. First, a screeching cry that sounded like a cross between the wails of a fresh tubie and a nexu filled the room and stabbed Tech directly in the eardrums. Next, a sprinkler system that Tech had no idea existed activated and began to douse Tech and his equipment with water so cold that it soaked through Tech’s thin bodysuit and penetrated his skin with a sensation that somehow burned. There had to have been some kind of chemical additive meant to cause pain mixed in, for that was the only way that the water could create so much nerve-melting agony. Then came the flashing lights. They punctuated the darkness and made it hard for Tech to orient himself or concentrate on the task at hand.

Tech was able to complete his datapad by shielding the components with the bag and his body. He had to squint and utilize the flashes of light, however painful, to see what he was doing. After he completed the task and was removed from the Data Collection Chamber, the medical droid scanned Tech’s vitals and led his sluggish, burning body back to the barracks of Clone Force 99. On his way through the door, Tech saw a very fidgety Wrecker wringing his hands as he approached the medical droid and made his way to the chamber that Tech had just escaped. Tech scanned the barracks with clouded vision and spotted Crosshair lying on his bunk with his silver-capped head buried into his pillow. A weak and muffled groan escaped his blurry form. Then Tech saw Hunter, beautiful Hunter, approach him. It looked like he would be the final specimen for the day.

“You look horrible,” said Hunter, the meaning of his words and the compassion in his voice taking longer than they should to register within Tech’s exhausted brain. Then Tech felt a firm, warm touch against his lower back. It was Hunter’s hand.

“Data Collection Day, s’always like that,” Tech slurred. He took a series of weak steps forward as he was led to Hunter’s bunk.

Once Tech’s knees brushed the side of the bed and he winced in pain as his overactive nerves registered the sensation, Hunter laid down beneath the covers and clumsily pulled Tech in with him, enveloping him in his strong arms. The warmth from the blankets and Hunter’s toned body hurt at first, but the pain soon melted into a comforting pressure. Tech buried his long fingers into Hunter’s wavy, black hair to ground himself and shut his heavy eyes. He pressed a kiss into the crook of Hunter’s neck and took a trembling breath.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Hunter whispered against Tech’s shoulder, his hot breath caressing his neck.

“I do not believe you could,” said Tech, opening his eyes and looking at Hunter. The shadowy skull tattoo across one side of his face made his emotions difficult to ascertain.

“You’re talkin’ better,” Hunter said, cupping Tech’s cheek and leaning in for a kiss. It wasn’t as deep and toe-curling as their usual kisses, but Tech still found himself melting into the soft brush of their lips.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean for you to haphazardly build one while we camp out together in the middle of a scouting mission, Tech,” said Hunter, gesturing to the brown, canvas tent fabric which surrounded them. “What did you even use to make this thing!?”

“I’m glad that you asked,” said Tech, “I fashioned the ring itself out of the durasteel alloy roll that held the gauze in our medkit. The vibrations are produced by a repurposed spare scanner battery. I am quite pleased with how it came out, actually.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe you raided our medkit to build a cockring,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation and arousal at once.

“This does not significantly deplete our supplies,” said Tech, “and besides, it would appear that Wrecker and Crosshair are seeing far more action on their end than ours. We have selected the least-eventful of the two posts.”

Hunter shook his head and took the cock ring from Tech’s hand. It was a simple, gray-colored loop with a cylindrical housing for the vibrator welded horizontally against it. Hunter had to admit that his partner’s ingenuity was quite a turn on, even if he wasn’t sure that this weird little device was one-hundred-percent safe.

“You gonna put this on my after we turn in for the night?” asked Hunter.

Tech gave him that smug smirk that showed all of his teeth. “Was there ever any doubt?” he asked.