đź’Š

techiehux:

The party was in full swing. Techie wasn’t the type of person to enjoy close-quarter dancing with strangers in a place with music so loud it made even his implants ache, but his dealer set up the meeting spot in this shady nightclub and Techie was already too jittery; he wanted to get his stuff and get the hell out.

Everything went on without a hitch. Techie held the baggy with white powder and a syringe taped under his loose yellow t-shirt, scurrying out of the club before he was discovered. He was sweating bullets, aching for his fix after so long without it. Money was tight, but Techie could afford it if he got on his knees a few times a week.

Two minutes from his tiny apartment, Techie’s bladder complained until he was forced to stop at a gas station for relief. Fuck it, he thinks to himself, near hysterics. He’ll shoot up right here, right now. It’s only a single stall bathroom, anyway. Nobody else can get in. In his rush, Techie leaves the door unlocked and is surprised with the syringe plunged deep into his vein by a tall, muscular woman with short blonde hair.

Shit! 

That’s a relief to hear. But something weighs heavily on Techie’s mind, and he has to get it off his chest. “L-Lenina… I’m a junkie. If you need my help against Toxichem, I think it would be g-good for me to, uh, detox first. Before we do anything else.”

New friends (closed)

Techie’s fists balled up to mirror the surge of determination he felt. Yes, he’d heard quite a bit about Kylo in his time as a technician. This would be different, though. Up close and personal…

“I’ve h-heard some stuff and seen the aftereffects,” he admits. “But I. I still… w-want this. Want you. It’s okay to sh-show me your not-so-good side, and I’ll show you mine, too.”

Techie slumps before sagging over and pressing his cheek to the cool, hard surface of the table. He knew Hux didn’t mean any harm, but his enthusiasm had been somewhat dampened. “But I f-found something,” he says quietly, almost a whine.

Beep -matt

ask-matttheradartechnician:

techiehux:

[Text #13- Wrong Number]

To: Matt
From: Techie

Stars above, I wasn’t anywhere near a console when it was hacked! I’m loyal to the First Order, Leslee. There’s no way it was me.

[Sent at 5:40PM]

To: Techie

From:matt

What console hacking what have you gotten yourself into? Promise me it wasn’t you I can’t lose you.

To: Matt

From: Techie

It wasn’t me, Matt. Please believe me! Somebody’s got it out for me. I’m really anxious.

[Sent at 8:44PM]

Um. So. Remember that time you dropped your glasses in my room? Did you see… what was under the bed?

ask-matttheradartechnician:

“Oh I’m ah kriff ah um shit…” there was no need pretending matt knew techie knew that he had gotten a hard on.
“ your box of um dildos?”

He didn’t so much as drop his gaze to the floor when the dildo fell, focused entirely on Matt with a slack-jawed, dazed look to him. Techie swallowed hard. “Matt, it’s okay… I’m just, uh. G-Giving you a heads up. Maybe we sh-should stop this and go back to our quarters, c-clear our heads.”

đź’Š

techiehux:

The party was in full swing. Techie wasn’t the type of person to enjoy close-quarter dancing with strangers in a place with music so loud it made even his implants ache, but his dealer set up the meeting spot in this shady nightclub and Techie was already too jittery; he wanted to get his stuff and get the hell out.

Everything went on without a hitch. Techie held the baggy with white powder and a syringe taped under his loose yellow t-shirt, scurrying out of the club before he was discovered. He was sweating bullets, aching for his fix after so long without it. Money was tight, but Techie could afford it if he got on his knees a few times a week.

Two minutes from his tiny apartment, Techie’s bladder complained until he was forced to stop at a gas station for relief. Fuck it, he thinks to himself, near hysterics. He’ll shoot up right here, right now. It’s only a single stall bathroom, anyway. Nobody else can get in. In his rush, Techie leaves the door unlocked and is surprised with the syringe plunged deep into his vein by a tall, muscular woman with short blonde hair.

Shit! 

Techie smiles slightly and takes her hand in a loose handshake before saying, “Thank you. That’s… Y-You’re my first friend in a, uh, long time.”

An incoherent, drooling, love-struck mess; Techie nods feverishly and wraps his arms secure around his brother’s neck, pulling them so close together that Techie’s leaking cock rubs up on Hux’s stomach. It’s the best, most addictive feeling in the world, this closeness. They’re together, in every meaning of the word.

Voice hoarse, he moans possessively, “I want y-your cum all for myself, Armie,” and the mere idea pushes him over the edge; he’s spilling hard between their bodies and the slight incline to his hips means cum can land as far as his chin. He screws his eyes shut with a sob and clenches hard around his brother’s length, greedily milking him for all he’s got. He’d stay here happily for the rest of his life, cradled in Armitage’s arms like a precious gift and bringing him nothing but pleasure.

Boneless and fucked sweet, senseless, silly, Techie flops back onto the bed and leisurely lets his twin chase his own pleasure while Techie whispers soft, dirty promises into his ear. “I’m yours, d-darling. All yours. Use me.”

đź’Š

techiehux:

The party was in full swing. Techie wasn’t the type of person to enjoy close-quarter dancing with strangers in a place with music so loud it made even his implants ache, but his dealer set up the meeting spot in this shady nightclub and Techie was already too jittery; he wanted to get his stuff and get the hell out.

Everything went on without a hitch. Techie held the baggy with white powder and a syringe taped under his loose yellow t-shirt, scurrying out of the club before he was discovered. He was sweating bullets, aching for his fix after so long without it. Money was tight, but Techie could afford it if he got on his knees a few times a week.

Two minutes from his tiny apartment, Techie’s bladder complained until he was forced to stop at a gas station for relief. Fuck it, he thinks to himself, near hysterics. He’ll shoot up right here, right now. It’s only a single stall bathroom, anyway. Nobody else can get in. In his rush, Techie leaves the door unlocked and is surprised with the syringe plunged deep into his vein by a tall, muscular woman with short blonde hair.

Shit! 

Techie stared at Phasma blankly. “I don’t h-have any friends. Not really.” Who the hell would he tell? His dealer?

He looked down at himself and let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, y-yeah… I am. Sorry!” Techie sat down on shaky legs and ran a hand through his tousled hair anxiously. “I’m n-not all that hungry,” he admits, placing the datapad down on the table.