#holotactics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year ago

Text

What You Need pt. 1 (Echo x reader x Hunter)

Summary: Echo and the boys return from a mission. You can't wait to get Echo alone.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. afab!reader and use of feminine-coded pet names and genitalia; shameless smut; PWP; FwB; Dom/sub dynamics; use of "sir" as a title; Echo uses entirely too many pet names for reader; aftercare; light choking; reader is unintentionally a brat but it doesn't last long; soft!Dom!Echo; exhibitionism and voyeurism; somnophilia; face-sitting; oral (F receiving); uhhh I think that's all of it. If I missed anything please let me know!

A/N: This is just filth, y'all. This chapter is Echo x reader; Hunter to star later.

Word Count: 6.1k

Part 2 | Part 3

Cid’s is unusually busy tonight. You vaguely remember her mentioning that a local holotactics battle royale would be happening soon; clearly, you forgot to mark your calendar. Busy, though, is good for you. With any luck, you’ll walk away from tonight with decent tips—Maker knows Cid doesn’t pay you enough. Adjusting the thin straps of your tank top, you wipe the back of your hand over your forehead, wicking away the sweat beading there.

You prop yourself against the back wall to take advantage of the brief lull in customers vying for your attention. Surveying the patrons gathered here, your eyes seek out the one face you’re hoping will be here tonight. Echo and his brothers have been gone on some mission or another for about a standard week now, and you can’t help the gnawing sense of anxiety at his extended absence. Not for the first time, you’re grateful your...arrangement with Echo didn’t proscribe attachments. You were friends before you were lovers, and your friendship comes first.

But neither Echo nor his squad seem to be here tonight. Yet, you think, forcing the positivity that you don’t really believe.

Yes, being busy tonight has been a good distraction from your worry.

Speaking of, you catch a patron at the end of the bar waving their hand for your attention. With a sigh, you rearrange your face into a smile as you approach the man.

“What can I do for you?” you ask, leaning your forearms against the bartop. You know this causes your cleavage to deepen, a fact not missed by the man on the other side of the bar, his tongue wetting his lips as his eyes stray from yours.

He’s not unattractive, you think, but this is more about getting a good tip than anything else.

“Uh, yeah, could I—” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. Auburn hair sweeps over his forehead. “Two things, I guess. First, a thermal detonator, darlin’.”

“Comin’ right up,” you say, reaching almost by memory for a glass. The pet names stopped fazing you long ago. “What else can I get ya?”

“Your comm frequency, maybe?” He gives you a lopsided grin, flashing slightly crooked teeth and dimples. Not unattractive at all.

You’re grateful that you have to turn away to reach for the detonator bottle, because the eye roll that overtakes your features would have been impossible to mask. He certainly isn’t the first, and you’re sure he won’t be the last, to try to get your contact info, but tonight, with your friend—lover—whatever, missing, the request feels particularly grating.

Affixing your smile back in place, you pour the drink and slide the glass across the counter.

“I’m flattered,” you lie, “but I’m...taken.”

As if summoned by your words, behind the man’s head you catch a glimpse of familiar painted armor as the boys, Omega in tow, step inside. Your gaze locks with Echo’s for just a moment, and your smile widens into something genuine, not just the mask you put on for customers.

The man raises his drink to you. “Ah, well, whoever it is, they’re lucky. Cheers.” With that, he slips between two bodies and disappears into the crowd.

You don’t even reply with a pleasantry, your entire focus devoted to Echo. Your chest loosens, a tightness having taken up residence there without you even realizing. A tingling sense of relief pools into your heart. He’s alive. He’s okay. Even as you have the thought, warmth begins to rise in your belly. Your thighs squeeze together in reaction.

Across the room, Echo jerks his head toward the back, and you nod in response. You know the drill by now. They return from a mission, they debrief with Cid, and then they socialize.

A roar erupts from the crowd gathered around the holotactics boards, and you grimace at the noise. For a moment, a flicker of concern sparks in you over Hunter and his heightened senses—but you’re pulled away from your internal musings once more by a Twi woman flagging you down.

Their meeting with Cid doesn’t last very long at all, and before you know it, you’re pouring four drinks on muscle memory alone as Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo approach the bar. A few of the locals see them coming and vacate barstools, ducking their heads with tense smiles as they move out of the squad’s way. By the time all four of them settle into the stools, you place the last drink, Echo’s fizzbrew, on the counter.

“Glad you made it safe,” you say. You mean to direct it to all of them, but your eyes are locked once more on Echo. Every time he leaves and returns, you feel like you have to re-memorize his features, the sharp cut of his cheekbones and jaw, the way his nose scrunches when he laughs, the softness of his eyes.

His lips quirk up into a grin over the rim of his drink. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Some,” Hunter says. At your alarmed expression, he waves a placating hand. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Fighting organics isn’t like fighting droids.”

Fixing Hunter with a hard stare for a moment, you try to silently communicate how unimpressed you are by his nonchalance in the face of danger. Yet, as his steady gaze meets yours, eyes sparkling with mischief and something else, something you can’t name, you have to will away the flush that creeps up into your cheeks. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve never stopped being attracted to Hunter. Echo just...got to you first.

Shaking your head to clear it, you quickly survey Wrecker and Tech. None of the four of them show any signs of injuries, which helps you breathe easier. Tech, as always, has his nose inches from his datapad, typing away. Wrecker has already lost interest in the conversation and peers over the heads of the crowd to see what’s going on at the game tables, where you imagine Omega is, as well.

Bringing you back to Echo. His warm amber eyes glint in the neon lights. Your eyes follow the bob in his throat as he sips at his drink, heat burning brighter in your belly. You can nearly taste the skin of his neck under your tongue. With a glance down at your chrono, you groan. Still a few more hours until closing.

“We’ll be here, cyare,” Echo says, his low voice cutting easily through the noise. “Don’t neglect your other customers.”

Without really thinking about it, just riding the cushion of relief and desire that surrounds you, you flash him a grin as you turn away. “Yes, sir.”

He chokes, spluttering. Without looking up, Tech whacks him on the back until the coughing subsides. Your concern for his health melts away as soon as he pins you in place with a heated glare, his nostrils flaring as he heaves a breath. Oh, you’re in for it later.

The rest of your shift passes in mostly a lustful haze. You’re painfully aware of Echo’s eyes on you the entire time. When Tech and Wrecker bid you goodnight and head back to their ship, Hunter scoots over a few barstools to sit next to Echo so they can discuss...whatever. You catch snippets of mission plans when you circle back to refill their drinks. Most of their words float in one ear and out the other. Neither of them take their eyes off of you.

For your part, you let your customer service persona take the wheel. Pouring drinks, engaging in friendly chatter, ringing up tabs, all of it happens on autopilot. The rest of your brain is otherwise engaged with thoughts of Echo.

Your arrangement with the grumpy trooper began mostly out of mutual sexual frustration. You’ve been bartending at Cid’s for at least as long as the squad has worked for her, and Maker, if you’d found them attractive just based on looks, you had had no idea how much more alluring they’d all be once you got to know them. Hunter and Echo especially caught your eye. And it had been Echo to do something about it. He’d followed you through the back hallways toward the staff lounge one night, after weeks of making eyes at each other. You hadn’t spoken that night, at least not about anything of substance besides to confirm your willing and eager consent.

Face warming at the memory of that first encounter, of Echo’s tall frame trapping you between the wall and his chest as he reached around to get you off, you flinch when your name is called.

“Hello-o-o-o, earth to (y/n)!” Cid’s voice cuts through the pleasurable memory.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “What’s going on?”

Cid shakes her head and tuts. “I said, you’re off the clock. Get outta here.”

You blink at her, then actually look around. It seems in your distraction, you completely zoned out as you closed out tabs. Most of the night’s customers have gone, leaving only a handful of regulars, including Hunter and Echo.

“Right, yeah, course,” you say, trying to regain composure.

Cid ambles away, muttering under her breath what you’re sure are not flattering comments. You untie your server’s apron and tuck it under the bar. When you straighten up, you’re unsurprised to find both Hunter and Echo lingering, lazy, tired grins on both their faces.

“Feelin’ alright, (y/n)?” Hunter asks, concern lacing his voice.

You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s being genuine right now or if he’s messing with you. You’re well aware of the capabilities of his enhanced senses. As it is, you should be more embarrassed by the notion that he can sense the electricity skittering over your skin, probably even smell the arousal slicking your panties, but you can’t find it in you to care right now.

“I’m fine,” you finally answer. “Long shift. I’m gonna go home and sleep.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Echo offers immediately, like he always does.

You nod with a small smile. “Thanks, Echo.”

Hunter shakes his head and pushes away from the bar. “Get home safe. Echo, I expect you back in time tomorrow.”

“When am I ever late?” Echo says, a grin on his face.

Hunter just raises his eyes to the heavens, hands on his hips, and he looks like such a dad in that moment that you laugh out loud.

“I’ll make sure he gets back safe and sound, Hunt,” you say. You lead the way out, knowing that they’ll both follow.

At the top of the steps, Hunter turns right, giving a wave over his shoulder, while you and Echo turn left. When you come to a fork in the road, you spare a glance back over your shoulder—a jolt of surprise heats your core when you find Hunter lingering at the other end of the street, his gaze clearly on you. You gulp. Has he always watched you walk away with his brother? Is he even watching you, or is he concerned about Echo? A frown tugs at your lips.

“Cyare?” Echo’s low, gravelly voice brings you back to him.

You blink and give him a fleeting smile. “Hm?”

“C’mon,” he says, “it’s late.” He tucks you under his arm. Butterflies explode to life in your stomach, his body heat absolutely searing into your psyche, the heavy scent of sweat and carbon residue and liquor making you dizzy.

You don’t live far from Cid’s, which is both a blessing and a curse. A curse because you never have an excuse to be late for your shift; a blessing because, on nights like tonight, you’ll be in the privacy of your apartment that much sooner.

The rest of the walk is silent. Pressed against his side like this, your lust-addled brain runs free, conjuring memories of his body overtop of yours, how his skin glistens with sweat, how his breath sounds in your ear as he fucks into you. By the time that you both step into the repulsorlift that will take you to your floor, your chest heaves with barely contained lust.

“Who was that guy, earlier?” Echo asks suddenly.

Any thoughts of sex flee your mind. You frown, brows knitting together. “Huh?”

“At the bar,” he says. “The one you were talking to when we came in.”

It takes you a moment to remember which man he’s referring to. You shrug. “Not sure. Asked for my comm, but backed off when I said I was taken.”

Echo hums. The lift chimes as it rumbles to a halt at your floor, and Echo holds his scomp in front of the doors so you can step out. You lead the way. He’s quiet the rest of the way down the hallway to your door, but now that he’s asked, you can’t ignore the wriggling worm of confusion and doubt chewing through the desire thrumming through you.

“What is it?” you ask, keys halfway to the lock.

“What is what?” he asks, blinking down at you.

You sigh. “Listen, I know we really haven’t talked about whether this is exclusive or not, but—”

Echo cuts you off by pressing one finger to your lips. “Why did you tell him you were taken?”

Swallowing, you resist the urge to slip his finger into your mouth, at least for the moment. This is a serious conversation—probably the most serious one you’ve had with Echo since this whole situationship began.

“Didn’t want the attention,” you say with a shrug, voice muffled by his finger.

“That’s all?”

“What else do you want to hear?”

He studies you for a moment, his amber eyes poring over your features, searching for something, but for what, you’re not sure. Did he take issue with you using him as an excuse? Or did he want to know if you said you were taken because you want to be taken?

Finally, he lowers his hand. “C’mon. Inside.”

His voice has dipped into the usual low growl that he reserves for you. All the confusion you’re feeling immediately dissipates, and suddenly you can’t get the door open fast enough. As soon as you’re both through the doorway, Echo slams it behind him and pushes you up against the entranceway wall. His scomp is cold on your skin where it rests across your breastbone. The dark heat in his eyes makes your stomach flutter.

“Echo,” you breathe.

He arches one eyebrow. “Oh, so now I’m just ‘Echo,’ hm?”

You suppress a grin, recalling your accidental use of his title earlier. “Sorry, Mister Echo. That better?”

With a groan, he leans down to press a feverish kiss to your lips. You gasp, and he takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss. His tongue is hot and wet and messy against yours, a satisfied growl vibrating into your mouth. Your knees threaten to give out. Like he knows that, he slots one leg between your thighs, supporting your weight.

When he pulls away, your chest heaves with exertion.

“Didn’t think just a week would make you forget your manners, cyar’ika,” he says, voice dangerously low. He nudges your face to the side and presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your ear, your cheek. “Want to try that one more time?”

You whimper. “Yes, sir, sorry, sir.”

He chuckles, hand coming up to cradle the front of your neck gently. Not applying pressure, just making you aware of its presence. “That’s better. Remember your safeword?”

You nod. “Meiloorun. And yours is Kamino.”

“Very good.” He kisses you again, his mouth insistent against yours, demanding that you submit and let him take control from here. You gladly do, moaning as your insides turn to putty. Your panties are absolutely soaked by now, you know, probably seeping through your clothes onto his leg. Echo hums in satisfaction as the last of the tension drains from your body, leaving you pliant and soft.

“Kriff, cyare, you’re so sweet for me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Always for you, sir,” you say.

With one final peck on your lips, he stands to his full height and removes his arms from your body. It’s only because of his thigh that you remain upright, the wall acting as a secondary support. Peering up at him through your lashes, your breath catches in your throat. He’s backlit, the soft yellow glow coming from your bedroom haloing around his head. His eyes are twin pinpricks of light, his lips parted and pink, a flush high on his cheeks. You take a moment to just bask in his presence. His broad shoulders. His strong arms, so good at keeping you safe. His prosthetics, the parts of him he still struggles with, but the ones that you adore because it means he’s alive.

His soft whisper of your name has you blinking up at him. “You still with me?”

You nod. “Just admiring the view.”

You should have used his honorific and both of you know it, but he ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck in a bashful kind of way. It’s cute.

“Bedroom. Clothes off. Get yourself comfortable, okay, cyare?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.” Taking a tentative step forward, your shaky knees hold firm. You hurry to your bedroom, shucking your clothing as you go. As expected, the crotch of your panties is dark with slick, and you whimper at the sight. But you can’t focus on that. You’re supposed to get comfy, and you intend on doing exactly that.

You fluff a few of your pillows and recline back against them, knees bent and legs falling open, baring your soaked folds to the cool air. In the floor-length mirror across the room, you watch the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the excited light in your eyes, the glisten of slick between your thighs. Kriff, you hope he’s not in a teasing mood tonight.

Echo joins you a few moments later. His armor is gone, stacked, you know, by your front door out of the way. He has two glasses of water tucked in the crook of his arm. You both realized early on how dehydrated these sessions made you, so this has become the routine. You get yourself ready for the session, and he gets ready for the aftercare. It’s a simple gesture, but not one anyone else has ever extended to you before. Your heart swells at the reminder of his kindness.

Maybe you do want to be taken. To be his.

A flash of gray eyes in your mind’s eye distracts you, nearly pulling you out of the dazed, aroused haze you’re in.

But then Echo climbs onto the bed, and you’re wrenched away from all thought as he kneels at your feet. He always looks so much more relaxed here, with you. The worry lines disappear from his forehead and his usually grumpy countenance softens into something like adoration. For a moment, the two of you just admire each other, smiling.

“Comfy, baby?” he asks.

You nod. “Very.”

“Good.” His fingertips skim the soft skin of your inner thigh, trailing goosebumps in their wake, and you sigh. You shift your hips to let your legs widen, silently urging him to touch you where you need it most.

His touch remains featherlight as he crawls up over your body, his hand brushing your side, your chest, and returning to its place at the hollow of your throat. With a breathy moan, you arch your back, presenting your breasts to him.

“So needy,” he chuckles. “Use your words, darling.”

“Please, sir,” you say, voice whiny even to your own ears. “Please touch me.”

The grin that curls his lips up is wicked. “I already am, baby.” As if to make his point, he curves his fingers around your throat—still not putting any pressure, but his light touch is enough to send another wave of desire pulsing to your already aching and neglected pussy.

Groaning, you slump back against the bed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Should be more specific then, cyare.”

Chewing your lip, you suppress another moan. “Please, sir, please touch my tits. Play with my pussy. I want you. I need you, sir.”

His low groan lights your nerves on fire. “Much better,” he rasps. Evidently, he must feel he’s teased you enough (at least, for now), because he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His hand palms at one breast, rolling the nipple between his dexterous fingers. Nudging your nose, he licks at your bottom lip, and swallows your responding moan. You gladly tilt your head and meet his tongue once again. Saliva drools down your chin, but you don’t care, not so long as he keeps touching you. His touch is fire and ice and electricity and you want to cry because it’s too much and not enough all at once.

You gasp when he pinches your nipple, back arching. He trails wet kisses down your jaw to your neck, locating with ease that one spot that makes your toes curl. Switching to your other breast, he repeats the same attention there as his teeth sink into your skin. The moan that escapes you is high and heady, and so, so needy.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Make such pretty noises for me.”

“Yes, sir,” you pant.

He trails down your body, placing searing kisses to your sensitive skin. You watch through hooded eyes as he moves lower. Excitement tightens in your belly as he draws closer to where you need him most, your breathing coming sharper.

“Would you prefer my fingers or my tongue, darling?” he asks. His dark eyes flutter at you he laves at your hip, his hand kneading your thigh.

It takes a moment for the question to register in your pleasure-overloaded brain. When it does, you prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes widening. “Y-Your mouth, please, sir.”

He hums. You whine when he withdraws, distress and confusion clouding your face, but he shushes you with a kiss.

“Sit on my face, cyare. Take your pleasure from me.”

Oh fuck. Your pussy clenches around nothing. After he drops onto his back beside you, you scramble to sit up, swing one knee over him, and hover above his face.

“Sit,” he orders. Then he wraps his arms around your thighs, the cold of his scomp making you shiver, and tugs you down onto his mouth.

“O-Oh.” You throw your head back. His mouth is so kriffing warm and his tongue feels so good as he licks a stripe up your pussy. For a moment you forget how to breathe; he slurps at your dripping folds, a deep growl vibrating up his throat into your core.

He works you over with his mouth, ignoring your clit, much to your mounting distress. Even as the coil in your stomach begins to wind ever tighter, you need the extra stimulation.

“Please,” you groan, hips bucking, seeking friction. “Fuck, sir, please.”

He hums against you, his eyes crinkling with mischief as you gaze down at him, lips parted, panting.

A whine ripping from your throat, you rest one hand on his chest and roll your hips again. “Please? Please, sir, I want to cum for you.”

This time, he makes no noise, but instead tilts his chin just enough that his tongue, flat and hot and wet, presses against your aching clit. Your entire body locks up, white-hot pleasure snapping tight in your belly, shoving you to the edge of your orgasm. His hand rests on your hip, tugging you forward and pushing you back.

“Oh stars,” you gasp.

Pleasure coursing through you like molten gold, you rut against his face. He holds still, letting you take what you need from him at last, as promised. Every movement makes your breath hitch. All attempts to be quiet fly out the window, your neighbors be damned, as you chase your high against his lips.

The tightness in your belly pulls taut. Your toes curl, your moans becoming breathy as you roll your hips desperately. Your release is right there; you’re so close you can nearly taste it.

“I’m- kriff, Ec- sir, I’m gonna c-cum,” you pant.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he pulls you impossibly closer. You look down, remembering at the last second that he likes to watch your face as you cum, and when your eyes meet his, pupils blown and face glistening with your slick, you cry out. The coil in you snaps. With a scream, you cum, body arching forward as you spasm. Your cunt flutters against Echo’s mouth. His long, deep groan vibrates up into your very being, and you gasp.

“F-Fuuuuuck,” you moan, chest heaving, as he finally releases you. You fall to your side next to him, boneless.

“Did so good for me, cyare,” Echo says, turning onto his side to cup your face.

You gaze at him through heavy eyelids, residual pleasure making your body twitch. “Thank you, sir.”

His kiss is sweet, nearly tender, and it immediately stokes the flames of your arousal all over again. The tang of yourself on his lips isn’t your favorite, but tonight, you moan, licking at his lips to catch another taste.

You chase his mouth when he pulls away, but your body, spent as it is, gives out and you slump into the comforter again. Chuckling, Echo presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble. “Want you in- in my mouth.”

His grip at the back of your neck tightens. “Kriff, baby, I know you do. But I can’t wait. Can I fuck you? Can your sir put his dick in that soaked pussy, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, sir, please, stars.”

“Roll over for me, cyare, onto your front.” He helps you shift. His knees cage you in where he kneels, resting against your thighs. Laying there as you slowly recover from the mind-bending orgasm, you wiggle your ass in anticipation.

Smack!

You gasp, the sting of the pain soothing into something duller as Echo smooths his hand over the impact.

“Patience,” he chides.

The telltale sound of his pants unzipping reaches your ears. Without needing to be told, you reach back to spread your cheeks apart, granting him easier access to your entrance from this angle. He spits, then rubs the lubrication over his cock. Your body flushes at the sound.

When the tip of his cock pokes at your entrance, you sigh. Arching your hips up, you jiggle your ass with your fingers to entice him.

Another smack! rings through the room, another surprised yelp escaping you.

Followed by twin moans as Echo pushes into you all the way in one fluid movement, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. He groans, sounding strangled, when your pussy flexes around him.

“Not gonna last long,” he warns, voice strained.

“S’okay,” you mumble. “Please.”

He needs no further encouragement. Leaning forward to press his body against yours, the texture of his clothes scrapes at your skin pleasurably. The knowledge that you’re fully naked and he remains fully clothed makes your cunt clench again. Bracing himself on his scomp arm, Echo’s other hand reaches beneath your chest to find purchase one final time at your neck. This time he does put pressure, his thumb and middle finger squeezing your veins, restricting blood circulation. When he slams his hips back into you, you moan brokenly, mind already hazy with lust and oxygen deprivation.

He sets a languid pace, drawing his cock out of you nearly all the way before shoving it back in. The tip rakes across the shattered piece of heaven deep in your core, pulling the coil in your belly tight once again.

“Need you to cum again, sweet thing,” Echo grunts, voice breaking. “Need you to cum on my cock.”

You nod. Kriff, if he keeps fucking you like this, you’ll cum as much as he wants.

He releases the grip at your throat, and the resulting rush of blood back to your brain makes you gasp, senses heightened.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, sir, don’t stop,” you pant out. “Please, wanna cum again. Want to cum for you. Want to be good for you, please, please pleasepleaseplease—”

Echo groans deep in his chest, his hips stuttering for a moment. “Kriff, baby, you’re always good for me. Cum on this cock, darling.”

He punctuates the request with a particularly hard thrust, and that’s all it takes. Body going rigid, your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Eyes rolling back, you quiver beneath him, pussy clenching so hard that he lets out a broken moan. His forehead presses between your shoulder blades. His cock pulses deep in your cunt as he spills his seed, babbling the entire time about how good you are, how much he loves your pussy, how much he loves finishing in you.

When both of your breathing evens out, you weakly push your ass up against him. “Echo?”

He hums. “Are you okay, cyare? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you say. “You were perfect. But can you get off me? This is hurting my back.”

“Oh!” He’s immediately gone, his body vanished. You shiver in the sudden chill, but manage to roll yourself onto your back to stare at your ceiling.

“C’mon, cyar’ika, sit up, you need water,” Echo gently urges.

With a soft groan, you sit up, still feeling boneless and, apparently, muscle-less. Sitting on the bed next to you, Echo helps you hold the glass of water; he lowers it every few sips so that you don’t flood your body, but all you want is to chug, the gratifying liquid soothing your dry throat.

When the first glass is empty, you shake your head at his offer of the second one. Scooching back up the back to lean against the pillows, you open your arms and make grabby hands.

“Cuddle with me?” you ask.

He smiles, the one that sets butterflies beating in your stomach. “Of curse, cyar’ika. Let me get these clothes off.”

As soon as he’s stripped, he settles in beside you, tucking you against his side. His thumb rubs aimless circles on your hip; the strong, steady beat of his heart under your ear serves to relax you. You match your breathing to his, a technique you picked up early on that helps you feel closer to him, even as you continue this arrangement strictly as friends.

The thought drifts to you again of the stilted conversation you had outside your front door.

“Echo?” you say.

He shifts as he looks down at you. “Yes, darling?”

“I—” You shake your head, nuzzling deeper against his skin. “Never mind. Thank you for tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me for sex,” he says, smile in his voice. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“At least one more time,” you muse. That earns you a deep chuckle.

He presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, cyar’ika. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

He hums in thought. “Well, I will be if you’re up before mid-morning. Otherwise Hunter will have both our hides.”

You laugh, face warming at the thought of Hunter. Your relationship with Echo isn’t necessarily a secret; you’re pretty sure all the other men know, or at least suspect. But with Hunter, you know with certainty that he knows exactly what you and Echo get up to when he ‘walks you home.’

“Can’t have him taking your great skin,” you murmur.

He grunts. “Not so sure I’d call it great.”

Raising your head, you meet his eyes, returned to their normal warm amber. You frown, not saying anything.

“Right, sorry,” he says with a pained smile that’s more of a grimace. “No negative self-talk. Apologies, cyare.”

“S’alright,” you say. “Your skin’s been through a lot, but it’s gotten you this far.”

“I know, I know,” he says. He leans down and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes sliding shut. “You’re too good to me.”

“You deserve good things,” you say. You intend to kiss him, but a yawn interrupts your movement, and Echo chuckles.

“Go to sleep,” he says. He tucks your head back down against his chest.

You find you can’t argue, your eyes sliding shut as soon as his heartbeat resumes its steady cadence against your ear, your body heavy from your exertions.

When you wake, you’re on the verge of orgasm. Body overly warm, sweat pooling in all of your bends and curves, your eyes flutter open and you peer down at Echo’s face buried between your thighs. A moan spills from you, surprised and embarrassed and so fucking turned on.

He pulls away from you with a lewd, wet pop, eyes sparkling. “Quiet, cyare. Hunter’s at the front door.”

“Wh-What?” You try to sit up, but Echo returns to your pussy, tongue caressing your soft, slick folds, and you slump back into your pillow.

Slinging one arm across your eyes, you cradle the back of his head with your other hand. “Stars, I’m so- I’m so fucking close.”

He slides one slim finger into your tight heat and crooks it up against your inner walls in just the right spot. Colorless stars explode behind your closed eyes as your pussy flutters around his digit, breathy, half-coherent moans tumbling from your lips. Kriff, the thought of Hunter standing outside your apartment, probably able to hear you fall to pieces for his brother, smell your cunt, nearly makes you cum a second time.

When everything becomes too much, you push against Echo’s shoulder weakly with a pathetic whimper.

He grins up at you, his lips shiny and so fucking pink, his entire lower face wet. Flushing, you bite your lip, glancing away.

“Good morning to you, too,” you mumble.

With a laugh, he gently closes your legs and pulls you up into a sitting position with him. He wipes his face dry before pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.” He inhales, holding you tighter. “I have to go.”

Tears prick at your eyes. Blinking them away, you nod against his chest. “I know. When do you think—” You cut yourself off. You’ve never asked how long he’ll be gone for before. He’s your friend, one with whom you happen to sleep; you’re not entitled to him all the time.

As if he can sense the conflict in you, he rubs your arm. “I’m...not sure. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” You take a long, deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and then let it out. His eyes are deep and full of concern when you lean back to look at him. For a few moments, you enjoy sitting in silence with him, eyes never leaving his, trying to convey how much you care about him without words. He seems to understand. Gently, slowly, like he’s afraid you’re going to move away, he brushes his knuckles across your cheek.

“I—”

Beep-beep-beep.

Brow furrowing, his eyes slide shut, nostrils flaring in agitation. You press your lips into a line, allowing yourself as much time as he takes for himself to be annoyed.

“You gotta go,” you say, quiet. “Don’t want to keep Hunter waiting.”

The look he gives you is inscrutable. You think you see a flash of pain, a twitch of concern, but it’s gone in a blink. Then he sighs with a nod, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I’ll see you when—” He bites his lip, struggling for words. “When I get back.”

“Good.” You close the distance and kiss him. All too soon, he pulls away. You hadn’t realized he’s already dressed, his armor half-on. The cool air chills your skin as soon as he’s gone, goosebumps prickling to life as a shiver dances up your spine.

Tugging the sheet over your shoulders, you can only watch as Echo steps out of your room, puts the rest of his armor on by the front door, and gives you one last smile. You blow him a kiss; he pretends to catch it and put it in his pocket. Soft warmth blooms in your chest, softer than you’ve ever felt before.

When he opens the door, you catch a glimpse of Hunter with his fist raised as if to knock, and you flinch. Gray eyes pierce into yours for the space of a heartbeat—then you’re scrambling back out of his line of sight, face burning in embarrassment. Their conversation cuts out as the front door closes behind Echo.

Tags: (tagging everyone who positively interacted with the sneak peek of this fic! I hope that's okay! <3) @the-hexfiles @madameminor @littlemissmanga @iwannalickyoutoomuchbaby @wings-and-beskar

#echo x reader #echo x reader x hunter #tbb echo x reader #clone thirsting #rhiwrites

129 notes · View notes