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You shiver in Tech’s lap, and it’s not because you’re cold.
“Tech,” you whine.
“You will hold still,” he whispers in your ear, then his fingers dig into your hips as you involuntarily tighten around him.
You don’t know how much longer you can take this, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, his hands with an iron grip keeping you from moving, your naked skin against his light armor, the pouches on his belt pressed into your ass. You should have known when he didn’t take off the belt.
He leans forward to adjust one of the controls, the shift of his cock making you moan.
His breath catches hearing it. He’s not made of beskar, after all.
“I will remind you that you said that you would not wait,” he says, still managing to sound mostly unbothered by your attempts to move on him.
“For us to fuck, Tech. If you were just going to hold me here, you could have told me.”
“I warned you that I was indisposed.”
You try to struggle in frustration, but he pins your body and pulls you with him as he sits back, the jump to hyperspace complete.
“Your eagerness sometimes works to your detriment,” he says, holding you tight to his chest.
“Is it so wrong to want to fuck you?” you gasp.
“If you simply had waited, you would not be in this situation. If you had waited, you could be against the wall right now.”
You groan in annoyance.
But you didn’t want to wait, were so agitated by the time you boarded that you practically crawled on your knees under the console to get his cock in your mouth. You thought he’d delay takeoff, but he didn’t, piloting with no issue despite your head bobbing between his legs. The ship had cruised for a few minutes while you pulled off your clothes, and he let you settle in his lap, sure he wouldn’t let you mount him unless he was ready to fuck you.
You were wrong.
If anything, he took his time readying the ship while his gloved fingers dug into your inner thigh to keep you under control, his slight movements only enough to tantalize and not to satisfy.
And. It. Is. Not. Fair. His cock is INSIDE you. You have never met a man with this kind of control, with this ability to deny, to put off his pleasure for so long.
But, of course, you think, he’s not denying himself anything. He has you, full command over what you want so badly, and that gives him the greatest pleasure and satisfaction, your desperation for him as sweet as any orgasm.
“Please, Tech,” your voice breaks into a whimper.
But he is not as composed as you think. Your current predicament is more habit than his actual need, as he twitches inside you, holding himself together because he chose this course and must now see it through.
The way you struggle on him, the sounds of your frustration, the way your body craves him, all of these things chip away at his resolve, because he feels so good inside you. Everytime your muscles quiver around him, he loses a little more of his desire to be in control.
He lifts his hand to your lips so that you can bite the tips of the fingers of his glove until you can pull it off with your teeth.
He runs his bare palm down your torso, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, then he takes your hand, sliding it under his own, guiding it between your legs, over your clit, until you can both feel his cock surrounded by your wet entrance, your excitement coating the base of his erection.
You let out a shuddering moan as he kisses your shoulder. He moves again and you cry out, the tiny amount of stimulation magnified by your lack of it. He shifts forward more so that you have to brace yourself with one hand on the console, and he rolls his hips, his cock moving between your fingers. He guides your fingers to your clit, stimulating you.
He keeps pulsing inside you and it feels glorious. You don’t even mind that he’s fully clothed, the contrast of your nudity, your vulnerability only heightening your arousal…and his.
“Please, please, Tech,” you beg, “My arm…my arm is going to…I can’t…” You are already shaking as you say it.
He does not stop moving, realizing, too late, that his composure is almost lost. He pulls you back and holds you to his lap as he begins thrusting, reveling in how tight you feel around him, how sweet your gasps are as he pleasures you, how thrilling it is to hear you call out his name.
He gathers himself, then stops, even as his own body is desperate to find its release, savoring your cry of frustration, “Would you prefer to ride me?”
“You’ll…you’ll let me? Pr…promise?”
“Yes.”
He has to muffle his own moan into your shoulder as you straddle him and sink onto him again, your arms wrapped around his neck. He pushes up to meet you as you begin fucking yourself on his length. Your shuddering breaths are buried in his neck, until your lips smash to his and he devours your pleasure.
“Tech, Tech, Tech…” you whisper his name over and over, and he finds suddenly that he almost cannot bear it, that he is almost overcome with his need to hear your ecstasy, with his need to spill inside you as a response.
You let out another shuddering breath as you tighten around him and cry out, your movements erratic, the noises escaping you sounding like sobs of pleasure.
He pushes you back, his mouth on your breast, his teeth grazing your nipple. His ungloved hand reaching between you, capturing your clit between his fingers, tugging at it.
“Tech! Tech! Tech!” you cry out as you climax, as he leans forward to be deeper in your, and you feel his hot cum fill you.
Exhausted, you collapse on him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, forehead pressed to his cheek. You shiver, but this time it is from cold, as the ship cools your sweaty body.
“You like doing that to me?”
“Bringing you to orgasm? Yes, I believe this has been previously discussed.”
“No, torturing me.”
“Most people would not call that torture,” he snarks at you. “And I believe that ‘torture’ provides you with much more satisfying climaxes. If you need evidence, I am sure I could do a focussed study on your pelvic contractions–” You silence him with a kiss.
“As much as I’m sure you’d…enjoy that, no, I believe you.”
You gather yourself before he helps you lift off him, cum coating his softening cock as he slips out of you.
You lie in a bunk and watch him undress. So many layers. You reach out to touch his hip, his body so beautiful sometimes you can’t bear it. He doesn’t seem real. They don’t seem real. How are you this lucky?
He stands for a moment looking at you, and impulsively you slide off the bunk, onto your knees in front of him. You take his cock in your mouth, tasting him for a second time today, but now he tastes of sex and lust.
His hand reaches out to brace himself, the feeling of your mouth unexpected but overwhelmingly good. You hold him like this, not moving, your fingers running along the inside of his thighs, up his hips and waist, touching him gently.
In different circumstances, this would be you submitting to him. You can imagine him directing you to do this as part of your play, wanting to see you desperate, only giving you this touch, restricting your movements.
But now, you are doing this for yourself. You are doing this to him. Doing nothing additional to try to get him aroused again, even though you feel him hardening in your mouth.
His fingers run through your hair. He gasps when you have to adjust to his length, this small amount of stimulation encouraging his arousal. He leans harder on his arm as your tongue moves slowly against him.
You want to ride him, to have him buried inside you. But, for the moment, even if he is the one receiving the pleasure, you are the one in control.
You want to talk filth to him, but instead, slowly, achingly slowly, your mouth moves down his shaft and then carefully up, your tongue swirling around his cockhead. He lets out a soft sound.
You do this again, until he is rock hard, until you can no longer fit even half of him between your lips without gagging.
He’s making little panting noises before taking long breaths to get control of himself. But he is so vulnerable to this caress.
You savor his reactions as you give him a very careful and controlled blowjob, and then you release him.
“Touch yourself.”
“Wha-what?” He is genuinely confused.
“I want to see you touch your cock.”
You lean back and watch his hand shakily take hold of his erection, and he starts stroking. You don’t have his patience or his self-control, but you manage to keep yourself still as his hand moves up and down his cock. He lets out an unsteady breath.
“Something you want, Tech?” You shift forward, resting your cheek on his thigh, close enough that he can feel your breath, watching his hand moving.
He looks down at you. Is he going to be stubborn and finish like this? Or is he going to use his words?
Neither, it turns out. With his free hand, he lifts your face to his and kisses you, and then your hands are on him and you push him back onto the bunk.
You lie next to him, your fingertips lazily teasing along the length of his cock as you take your time to kiss him. You trace each other's lips, quick flicks of tongues, deep explorations, moans of pleasure and desire.
“What do you want?” he whispers, echoing your words, his hand pulling you closer.
You lift your leg over his thigh, and he rotates both of you so he is on top. He strokes the head of his cock between your labia before slowly sliding into you. Your back arches as your muscles clench around him, and you both cry out.
He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either. You wrap yourself around him.
“You feel so good, Tech, so wonderful. I don’t even want to come if I could just feel like this.” Your body shudders around him.
He understands something he hasn’t known before, the intimacy of being so close to you, of being inside you, somehow more necessary than finding another climax.
“I can stop…if you prefer.”
You laugh. “No, but I want it just like this. Gods, it feels so good.”
“Even if you do not…”
“Even if I do not,” you answer.
He hesitates, just for a moment, then keeps thrusting, watching your responses, as you take your pleasure from him, as you moan and whimper his name. He waits until he can read that your sensitivity is not the same, diminishing, that your body is no longer responding to him. He settles against you, unmoving, except his lips to yours.
“You haven’t come,” you whisper.
“I…I do not plan to,” he answers.
“But—“
“It is unnecessary.”
You don’t argue, don’t move, don’t try to fuck yourself on him, don’t try to make him.
What is this? you wonder, as you hold him against you and inside you, as his arousal wanes and he carefully slides out of you. You lie in his arms, your foreheads pressed together, occasionally one of you breaks the stillness to kiss the other.
You stay like this until the jump is complete and you have Wrecker on board.
In the cockpit, Wrecker sits with you on his lap as well but just friendly, sweet. He wants your attention and affection, just wants your presence, as he tells you about the work he did, giddy at having a job all his own.
You lean into him, satisfied, your eyes closing as you fall asleep in the comfort of the big man’s warmth, and he holds you closer.
You don’t see Tech’s eyes glancing at you, almost shy, as if Tech has ever been shy in the entirety of his life, as you drift off.
There is something different that Tech feels when he looks at you, difficult to define, barely acknowledged. It does not trigger jealousy to see you so comfortable in Wrecker’s embrace.
It is something like happiness but from a deeper well.
Tech watches you surrender into sleep, and he smiles.