Even given the slightly relaxed uniform standards in engineering, Techie sticks out like a sore thumb, in more ways than one. “Techie” is not even his real name, just a nickname, like he’s a ‘trooper or something. His bionic eyes were installed so poorly that his eyes are always rimmed red with irritation and rust, which he makes worse by constantly rubbing at them. He barely ever looks anybody in the eye, mumbling his technical expertise to their feet—or, if he’s feeling bold, their chest. And his hair is always greasy.
Matt is just crazy about him.
He likes how Techie improvises with repairs. He likes how Techie lets him talk about Lord Ren as much as he wants. He likes the little figurines he makes out of damaged wiring. He likes Techie’s laugh, even though he really has to work for it. Or maybe he likes it because he really has to work for it—that’s how he knows it’s a real laugh.
And he really likes the little noises Techie makes when they kiss.
“I think I’m ready,” Techie says, breaking away from Matt’s mouth to gasp for air. Matt instinctively reaches out for his glasses, patting the mattress blindly. He finds them, unfolds them with one hand—the other one is on Techie’s lower back and therefore cannot be moved for any reason ever—and presses them onto his face with his palm. Matt’s dark room comes into sharper focus, starting with Techie’s face and ending with the recruitment poster of Lord Ren taped above his foot locker.
Techie’s on top, like always, so he can set the pace. Matt isn’t too sure exactly how experienced Techie is, although he’s pretty sure it’s less than his own grand total of “once.” But asking Techie about it would involve bringing up Techie’s past, which Techie does not want to talk about. Sometimes that makes Matt feel weird, like Techie doesn’t trust him or something, but then he thinks about how all of their pasts won’t matter when the First Order rules the galaxy. They can be whatever they want then.
“For, um, what?” Matt asks, even though he thinks he knows.
Techie squints down at him. His lips look kind of different, Matt thinks, and he flushes as he realizes they’re a little swollen because of him. “Sex?”
Matt opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. “Uh, yeah, definitely—I can—we can do that. We can do that right now.”
Technically, they kind of already have. The galactic standard for sex is mutual orgasms, which they’ve done. The last time they had an entire evening alone together like this, they made out long enough that Techie came in his pants, moaning out a low, helpless noise into Matt’s mouth as he rocked their hips together. Techie had been so embarrassed that he wouldn’t stop apologizing, not until Matt rolled him over on the mattress, told him how much he had liked it, and then, just to make things even, rubbed his erection against Techie’s thigh until he came in his pants, too. It was uncomfortable—when he comes, he comes a lot, and he ended up having to wash that jumpsuit along with the underwear. It had been worth it, though, just to kiss Techie while he came.
But if Techie doesn’t count it, then Matt won’t.
Techie gives a determined nod. He awkwardly shuffles off both Matt and the bed to the floor. Matt feels a little cold without Techie’s added body heat. Techie hunches over, fixing his eyes slightly to the left of Matt’s shoulders. He unzips his jumpsuit to the waist and pulls his undershirt over his head in two connected, jerky movements, like he’s trying to go fast enough so he won’t lose his nerve. The movements disturb his hair, which now sticks up at odd angles and sticks to his face at even ones. It also exposes his chest.
Matt stares at Techie’s torso—his faded pink nipples, his slightly rounded belly, the soft divot of his navel. He’s gotten his hands under Techie’s jumpsuit enough times that he knows how soft Techie’s skin is, but he’s never seen Techie shirtless before. (He’s definitely thought about it, though.) Matt feels a sudden, weird urge to press his face against Techie’s stomach just to feel how soft his skin would be against his cheeks and lips.
Techie’s hands make the logical jump to his fly, but they pause in mid-air, hovering. His face scrunches up and his shoulders slightly lift. He’s uncomfortable.
Matt springs into action, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. He kicks off his boots and unzips his jumpsuit all the way, awkwardly shuffling it down his body and over his feet until he’s sitting in just his undershirt and briefs. “Is that—“ Is that better, Matt means to ask, but when he looks up at Techie, he stops short.
Techie’s shoulders have relaxed as much as they can, and he’s looking at him. Which is not the remarkable part. Techie’s being doing really well with eye contact lately, which Matt likes, because he thinks Techie’s eyes are beautiful. The remarkable part is that Techie is looking at him differently. His gaze is focused, intent.
It makes Matt’s dick twitch against his thigh. Techie takes a step closer to Matt, standing almost between his legs. The arms of his jumpsuit hang down from his slight hips, reminding Matt of a pin-up he used to have of a Twi’lek shrugging out of a jumpsuit.
It’s a really good look on Techie.
Matt swallows, staring up into Techie’s eyes, heat crawling down his stomach and settling in his balls. Techie tilts his head, oversized pupils narrowing with an audible click, and he touches his fingers to Matt’s face. They’re cool to the touch. Matt tips his chin up, feeling himself flush. His dick twitches again, sooner than usual, but he ignores it. With his size, which is more of a curse than a blessing, it’ll take him a while to get worked up enough to worry. They can take their time.
Techie explores Matt’s face with soft, delicate touches. He traces parallel lines over Matt’s mouth with his thumbs. He pulls at Matt’s upper lip, baring his crooked teeth, before moving onto his cheeks and the thin skin under his eyes. Matt’s face relaxes, going slack in Techie’s hands. When Techie’s knuckles brush against the frames of Matt’s glasses, Techie presses his lips together, furrows his eyebrows, and tugs them off slowly with both hands.
Matt’s depth perception goes slightly psychedelic, transforming anything farther away from Techie into a dark blur. He normally only takes his glasses off when they get in the way of making out. He feels an instinctive spike of fear at his vision being compromised like this. But it fades when Techie cups his cheeks with his clammy hands and leans down to kiss him.
Matt hums against the press of Techie’s lips. Techie pulls back, eyes whirring audibly as he looks into Matt’s. Matt blinks, but Techie’s edges and the background don’t resolve. But he can see Techie’s face clearly. It feels a little surreal, but, surprisingly, familiar. Sort of like he’s seeing a visual representation of what it feels like whenever he turns into a hallway and sees Techie unexpectedly.
Like everything else suddenly doesn’t matter.
Matt reaches out blindly—because he’s staring up at Techie, not because his glasses are who knows where—and grabs Techie’s hips. Techie makes a low noise and tilts his hips into Matt’s hands. Matt wonders, flushing hard enough the sensation rolls down his neck and chest, if Techie’s already hard. Almost without thinking, he fists his hands in the thick fabric of Techie’s jumpsuit and pulls it down over his hips.
When he lets go, in favor of laying his hands on the warm skin of Techie’s hips, there’s a rustling noise as the jumpsuit pools around Techie’s ankles. Techie steps out of them, with some effort, and takes a step back to kick them away, hands abandoning Matt’s face. Matt tears his eyes away from Techie’s to take in the sight of Techie in his underwear. His pale skin looks even paler against the black regulation briefs. Techie bites at his chapped lower lip, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he says. “Now you.”
Matt immediately yanks off his shirt, hurling it over Techie into the unresolved dark of his bunk. It catches on something, which falls with an impressive clatter, but it’s on his bunkmate’s side of the room, so he doesn’t care. What he does care about is the way Techie is crawling back on top of him, his bare skin warm against his.
Before Techie can drop his full weight on him and trap him—he’s heavier than he looks—Matt rolls them over in a wide arc onto the bed, narrowly avoiding hurling himself off the edge. He props himself up on his hands and knees and lets Techie squirm back to the center of the bed.
He looks so good in my bed, Matt thinks, even though Techie’s been on his bed plenty of times. But this is different. Techie’s naked, or, at least, about to be. The anticipation of it sharpens Matt’s unhurried but overwhelming want for Techie. Just looking at him makes Matt hard.
Techie looks up at Matt with his too-bright eyes, chest rising and falling with his panting breath.
“How are we…?” Techie starts to ask, letting the question trail off as his gaze drifts slowly down until he’s squinting openly at Matt’s chest. Techie tilts his head and lifts a hand up to fit his palm around Matt’s pectoral, squeezing gently. “You’re strong,” Techie says, distractedly, as if he’s just realized that.
“Thanks,” Matt says, and bites his lip as Techie brushes a curious thumb against his nipple. He groans a little at the touch. It’s not so much that Techie is touching his nipple, but that Techie is touchingapart of him he hasn’t touched before. He wants Techie to touch him all over, and his dick pulses at the thought. His balls are really starting to ache.
“I want to—” Matt’s lower lip bends against his upper row of teeth to sound the “f” in “fuck,” but he suddenly doesn’t want to say that word to Techie. Not because Techie doesn’t curse—he does, often, in a brittle way, under his breath—but because “fuck” sounds so aggressive. Too aggressive for what he wants to do to Techie.
He’s so focused on not sounding too aggressive that he just blurts out the next remotely appropriate thing that comes to his mind. “I want to be inside you,” he says. Techie’s eyes widen with an audible shutter of his mechanical irises. He pants, then nods, slowly, and Matt feels like he’s won the Corellian lottery.
He had a dream about it once—not from this angle, though. In his dream, Techie had been on top of him, his hands planted on Matt’s chest as he rode him gently, rolling his hips in slow, hesitant movements. His eyes had been closed, red lashes long against his cheek, and he was chewing his lips to be quiet. They had to be quiet, for some reason, in the dream. Matt doesn’t remember why. What he does remember is that when Techie rolled his hips just right and let out the long, rising moan he’d been holding back, Matt had woken up so hard that he had to jerk off furiously under the covers while his bunkmate was in the refresher.
The memory of it makes him hard enough that the seams of his briefs are now digging uncomfortably into his dick. He glances down to see if Techie’s in the same predicament, but Techie’s pelvis is kind of out of his line of visibility. So he reaches down and presses his hand lightly between Techie’s thighs instead. Techie gives a sharp, surprised gasp before groaning at Matt’s touch. Techie’s dick is hard and hot against his palm, even through the fabric. For a minute, Matt has the strange feeling that he’s touching Techie wrong, but then he realizes that he’s never touched a dick from this angle before. It’s new to him.
He likes it.
Techie’s red eyelids flutter as he rolls his hips into Matt’s hand, and—oh. Having Techie writhe like that underneath him makes Matt’s open, slack mouth go dry. If he doesn’t take his hand off Techie’s dick right now, he’s going to jerk off Techie through his underwear just to see his face when he comes. Which might be one of the best ideas he’s ever had, but not what he wants to do if they have his bunk to themselves. With a huge effort, Matt move his hand from the warm erection in Techie’s briefs to the relative safety of his hip. “Can I take these off?” he asks.
Techie blinks at him, mouth open, and nods. “Y-yeah,” he breathes.
Matt presses his lips together and tucks his fingers under the waistband of Techie’s briefs. He tugs them down gently, freeing Techie’s erection. There’s some awkward shuffling to pull them the rest of the way down Techie’s long legs and over his feet, but when Matt settles between Techie’s spread legs, Techie is completely naked.
Matt stops. And looks. And keeps looking. It feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He’s seen other people naked before. And he’s seen someone else naked this up close before. But this is different.
When he’d had sex with Daneel, before he’d been transferred to the Finalizer, he’d been way too interested in all the ways Daneel had been so obviously different from him to think about the ways they were only slightly different. And honestly, besides all that, they really weren’t all that different—Daneel had been kind of fit, like him, she had thick thighs, like him, and her body hair had been dark, like his.
But Techie doesn’t look like him at all. He’s almost as tall as Matt is, but he’s built on finer lines. His skin is so pale it’s kind of yellowish. The coarse hair at his armpits and around the base of his dick are more or less the same reddish color as his hair, but the rest of him… Well, Techie’s not hairless, but his leg hair is so fine and translucent that it looks hollow, like plastic optical fibers. His cock, which is a really nice pinky-red color, is thicker than Matt expected, and his ball sack is looser than Matt’s.
Matt sits back on his heels for a minute, and he must look hungry or aroused or something, because Techie’s skin starts to flush and color in blotches under his eye. He’s so fascinated by the way Techie’s blush spreads over his body that he almost forgets what they’re trying to do until his dick stiffens hard enough that he has to get his underwear off immediately.
Matt pops off the bed to strip off his underwear, sighing a little in relief as his dick is freed. He kicks his underwear under the bed, and then figures this is probably the best time to get the lube. He reaches over to his bedside console. After knocking a few things over, he finds it, and he turns back to Techie.
Techie, who has risen to his elbows and is now staring at Matt’s dick like it’s got teeth.
Matt never knows if he’s supposed to bring up his size or not. On the one hand, he doesn’t want to brag about it, like an asshole, but, on the other hand, it’s… well, it’s big. It’s a legitimate logistical issue, although Daneel had been more than up to the challenge. Almost more than he had. He clambers back onto the bed, placing the tube next to Techie’s shoulder, and kneels between Techie’s legs.
Techie’s eyes never leave his dick.
The attention makes Matt’s cock pulse. “Are you—” Matt coughs. “Are you ready?” He’ll finger him open first, he thinks, skin flushing pleasurably all over at the idea of it. He’s fingered himself a few times, in the shower. How hard can it be to do it to another person?
Techie nods slowly. “Yeah,” he breathes, and then glances up to meet Matt’s eye. His eyebrows push together and lift. “Will it hurt?”
Matt’s heart drops into his stomach so fast that he feels nauseous. Hurting Techie is the last thing he wants to do. He wants to make Techie feel good, the same way he wants to fix things—droids, calcinators, the galaxy. And for the same reasons—because he can, he should, and he really wants to.
“We don’t have to do that,” Matt says, decisively. “We can do something else.”
Techie blinks at him. “Like what?”
Matt squints at Techie. For a moment, he sees Techie’s body as an itemized list of parts, like an engine schematic. A really awesome engine schematic. And then he has an idea.
“I have an idea,” he announces. “We could put my dick between your thighs.”
“My thighs?” Techie asks, scrunching his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Matt says, warming up to the idea. “I’ll slick them up and then you’ll press them together and I’ll…” He makes an obscene gesture with his hand.
Techie chews on his lips, and then nods, expression clearing. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I can do that.” He pulls his knees up to kind of present his inner thighs to Matt, and Matt’s eyes catch on how his balls shift with the movement. He wonders, for a moment, if that’s what his look like when he moves. Then he mentally chastises himself for thinking about anything other than how amazing Techie looks all laid out on his bed like this—skin flushed, mouth slack and heavy, erection casting a shadow over the soft, pale swell of his belly. Waiting and wanting for Matt to touch him.
Kriffing hell, he can be such an idiot sometimes, he thinks.
Matt grabs the lubricant from beside Techie’s shoulder, flicks open the top, and squirts a liberal amount into the palm of his hand. He reaches down and palms the meatiest part of Techie’s thigh. Techie’s leg jerks. “That’s cold!” he says, accusatory, but he settles when Matt begins to rub it onto his thigh in small, sloppy circles. The soft skin of Techie’s inner thighs are warm under Matt’s wet hand. After a minute or two, Techie shifts a little and relaxes, sighing and humming. Matt smiles at the noise.
He’s kind of hunched down just to see what he’s doing, so he doesn’t register that he’s eye to eye with Techie’s dick until he shifts his weight to turn his attention to Techie’s other thigh. He jerks his head back a little to avoid getting slapped in the face with it, and lets out a little huff of hot breath over the tip.
A drop of precome oozes out of the red tip of Techie’s cock. It quivers there, for a moment, before its surface tension breaks and it slips down Techie’s shaft. Techie moans, and Matt stares as Techie’s dick visibly twitches. Matt’s hand clenches, as if in sympathy. The gesture squeezes out more lubricant from the tube than he intended, and he scrambles to catch it all on his hand before it hits the mattress. He manages and, before it can drip off his hand, he kind of smacks it onto Techie’s dry thigh with a squelching noise. They both make a face at how gross it sounds, and then laugh. Well, Matt laughs. Techie doesn’t smile, but his lips twitch like he wants to, and he gives a little huff that could be a laugh, given time.
Matt will just have to work harder for it.
Once Techie’s thighs are glistening, Matt reaches over and wipes his hand clean on the side of the mattress. “Close your legs and get on your side?” he suggests.
Techie nods and shifts underneath Matt. He rolls onto his left side heavily, legs falling into imperfect ninety degree angles. Something about a different view of Techie’s naked body goes straight to Matt’s cock, making it throb so hard that he squeezes his eyes shut so the sensation doesn’t overwhelm him.
When the feeling passes, he opens his eyes. Techie’s reached up and grabbed Matt’s pillow to support his head, and Matt thinks about how his pillow is going to smell like Techie after this.
He’s never going to wash that pillowcase again.
Matt tears his eyes away from Techie’s face to squint at Techie’s thighs, to decide the best angle of approach, but he gets distracted. Techie’s ass looks so smooth and soft. Matt reaches down to see if it feels the same way, and—oh, yeah, it does. Techie makes a soft noise as Matt gently squeezes his upturned asscheek. “I like your butt,” Matt says earnestly.
“Oh,” Techie says. The splotches of his full body blush increase in circumference. “Thank you.”
Matt takes a deep breath to steady himself, and then wraps his other hand around his dick. He aims for the thickest part of Techie’s thighs, just past his dick. He closes his eyes as he slips between Techie’s slick thighs, pressing his stomach against Techie’s flank.
It’s not as tight as being inside of someone—it’s more like when he tries to masturbate with a looser grip than he normally does, just to try something different. But tight is beside the point. The point is that it’s Techie.
He thrusts experimentally, which feels great, but there’s room for improvement. “Can you press your legs together a little tighter?” he asks. He shifts to support himself on his wrists, bracketing the soft column of Techie’s torso. Techie nods, and does. His legs make a slick, wet sound when pressed firmly together that goes to Matt’s head almost as much as the increased pressure around his dick does.
“That feels good?” Techie asks. His voice is a little doubtful, which kind of breaks Matt’s heart. He strains up Techie’s body, the side of Techie’s leg digging into his stomach uncomfortably, and kisses him directly on the ear, tragus bending under his lips. Techie writhes and moans.
“Yeah,” Matt breathes against his ear. He thrusts again and Techie’s thighs are so slick and soft around his dick that he can’t think about anything else but pushing into that space again and again. “You feel so good,” he groans, starting to thrust firmly between Techie’s thighs. “You’re so warm, your skin’s so soft…”
Techie groans and shifts, twisting a little to face Matt full on and kiss him back. “Feels good?” Matt forces out, even as his brain starts to go hazy at the edges with lust. “For you?”
“Yeah, good,” Techie murmurs. His breath is hot and thick against Matt’s mouth. “It feels like you’re fucking me, like I how you want you to fuck me…”
“Fuck” doesn’t sound aggressive on Techie’s tongue. It just sounds hot. And it’s true—the way he’s thrusting between Techie’s legs is pushing Techie into the mattress with every thrust, just like he’s fucking him. “Is that—you want that?” Matt asks. “For me to fuck you?”
“Y-yeah,” Techie gasps out, mouth shaping out a smile that makes Matt’s chest feel tight and his breathing even more labored. “I want—I want you to fuck me, make me come—ungh—c-come in me…”
The thought of coming in Techie makes Matt moan out loud. He needs more. More touch, more friction, more Techie. He kisses every part of Techie that he can reach before burying his face in Techie’s sweaty neck, kissing and licking and mouthing blindly. Techie’s sweat is slightly stale and sour, but it’s sweet under Matt’s tongue.
At this angle, his ear is all pressed up against Techie’s jawline, so he can hear and kind of feel the vibrations from Techie’s eyes as they operate, mechanical pupils dilating and contracting with the uneven darkness and his arousal. Techie’s panting and gasping, mouth open. The wet contractions of his throat kind of remind Matt of gills, but in a sexy way. Matt’s hips are snapping back and forth automatically now, bouncing Techie into the thin mattress with the force of his thrusts, and he just wants so much. He just wants to be closer to Techie, wrap his whole body around him just to keep him safe, even though they’re pressed up so tightly against each other that they can’t be any physically closer without penetration. His eyes are starting to prick with tears, which he blinks back without even realizing.
Techie’s thighs begin to shake with the effort of keeping his legs pressed together. His knees part, slightly, just enough that on the next thrust, Matt rubs his dick directly against Techie’s, all velvet and hot and slick with precome, and that’s it. Matt comes, panting and whining against Techie’s neck, in three decreasingly long bursts, spilling between Techie’s thighs.
It’s a while before he feels like he can move. He slowly sits back onto his heels, pulling his wet, spent dick from between Techie’s thighs. Techie rolls onto his back, almost overcorrecting to his right. His legs fall open, revealing his front, and—
Oh no, Matt thinks. He probably should have warned Techie about how much he comes. Some of it’s striped over Techie’s navel and soft stomach, but a lot more is splattered liberally over Techie’s dick. Seeing Techie’s hard, twitching cock glisten with his come embarrasses Matt and turns him on at the same time, especially when Techie’s red cock head leaks again and adds to the mess.
Before Matt can decide whether or not to apologize, Techie rises to his elbows to see what Matt is staring at.
Techie’s eyes widen with an audible click as he stares down at his come-covered cock. “Shit!” he hisses, taking a strangled, gasping breath. And then he does something Matt’s never seen before. He squeezes his eyes shut and comes untouched, with a gorgeous, helpless cry, his hands opening and closing on nothing as his orgasm shudders through his body like a denotation. Techie’s cock twitches and pulses as he comes. The first spurt catches Techie across the chest, but the ones that follow just add to the mess on his stomach and cock in increasingly lazy squirts, until Techie’s dick starts to wilt and his body goes limp.
Techie collapses back onto the mattress. He’s a mess—panting so hard he’s practically wheezing, clammy from sweat, and covered in come.
Matt is never going to think of anything else when he masturbates from now on.
Techie’s leg is touching his, the thick spur of his ankle pressed against the side of Matt’s thigh. Matt knows he should get up, go into the refresher, and come back with a wet towel to wipe down Techie (like equipment, his brain unhelpfully supplies), but he’d have to stop touching Techie to do that. And if he stops touching Techie right now, he’s pretty sure he’ll stop breathing.
Instead, he leans over the edge of the bed and reaches out blindly until he finds his undershirt crumpled on the floor. He bunches it up in his hand and sponges most of the come off of Techie. He wipes the rest off, Techie’s face twitching as the shirt swipes over Techie’s now oversensitive cock. That takes care of almost all of it, except the tiny white pool of come shining in Techie’s navel.
Matt stares at it for a minute, trying to think of the best way to get at it, and then he remembers that he has a mouth. As soon as that occurs to him, he’s bending his head over Techie’s belly, fitting his mouth around his navel, and tonguing the come out, savoring how soft the skin of Techie’s stomach is against his lips. The taste is salty, but manageable. Techie, still limp, groans and arches into the sensation. He could have licked Techie clean, Matt realizes, as he pulls back and licks his lips clean of come. Next time, he thinks, and he’s not sure if he’s more excited that he’s thought of something filthy to do to Techie that Techie will like or that they’ll get to do this again.
Matt feels like the luckiest guy in the galaxy.
Matt throws the come-soaked undershirt over his shoulder onto the floor. He lies down next to Techie and curls up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and rolling them onto their sides so he can spoon Techie the way Techie likes. Techie gives a groaning sigh and pushes back into the embrace, fitting their sweaty bodies together. Matt palms Techie’s soft belly gently, his fingertips brushing against Techie’s coarse, damp pubic hair. He wonders if Techie will wake up hard in the morning. If he does, Matt thinks, he could jerk him off, make him come again before they have to report for their shifts. The idea makes him flush, but his sated dick doesn’t respond.
“Get some sleep,” Matt murmurs into Techie’s ear, kissing it.
“What about your bunkmate?” Techie asks, yawning.
“You know that override trick you showed me?” Matt smiles against Techie’s cheek. “I locked him out.”
Techie leans forward a little to look back over his shoulder, artificial eyes unnaturally bright for someone so tired.
And he laughs.