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Fallen Star

Break week is for taking it easy and relaxing. But Soleil Rand has never been good at that. When it’s finally over, she feels nothing but relief.

Especially this latest break week. It couldn’t have come at a worse time for the young pilot. The week before, Soleil had finally managed to overcome her various hesitances and visited a lesbian bar to make a new “friend” or two. Katya, a handsome and wonderfully crass pink-haired mechanic, had been more than willing to act out a scenario Soleil had been fantasizing about for years. They discussed it beforehand (which it didn’t even occur to Soleil that you could do), and what resulted was the best sex Soleil has ever had.

Awakened to the potential of roleplay (and to the fact that her fetish was nothing to be ashamed of), Soleil found herself craving more. But there’s one problem with break week. Only the pilots and some of the officers get a break. The mechanics instead get to pull double shifts all seven days, taking care of every bit of deferred maintenance while the pilots aren’t around to get in the way.

And somehow, Soleil only ever seems to want to fuck mechanics. All this free time, and she can’t even indulge in her new hobby. Some vacation.

It’s not officially sanctioned by the company the way the pilot’s break week is, but most mechanics customarily cash in unspent vacation time right afterward to relax after the long hours. With the pilots rushing back into combat in their refreshed mechs, the mechanics can’t completely neglect their duties, but they take as much of a break as they can.

This time, Soleil is determined to reduce her favorite mechanic Cressida’s workload as much as possible. Which is why she’s currently squirming around in the guts of her sleek, shiny mech, the Galaxy Meridian. She took a big impact to the side in her latest battle, and she wants to make sure there wasn’t any internal damage.

Actually fixing it is beyond her, of course, but if Cressida knows where to look, it’ll save her some time.

It’s not the cleanest in here, though. Already, Soleil’s gotten grease all over her nice white uniform. With some on her face and hands for good measure. She probably could’ve avoided the worst of the mess, but she wanted to be thorough. (It feels so good to be thorough.)

And, if she’s being honest with herself, she wants to see Cressida’s face when QM Squadron’s perfect poster girl walks in all disheveled and grimy. Katya told her a greasy pilot is every mechanic’s wet dream, or something along those lines, and she’s eager to test that idea. Soleil was a little busy getting debased and defiled (and fucked) at the time, though, and the details are muddy.

Really, though, Soleil has simple goals. She wants Cressida to exacerbate the mess she’s already made of herself. She wants Cressida to get off on that. Really, Soleil just wants Cressida to get off, using Soleil however she wants toward that end.

Soleil rubs her thighs together, whining gently. She may be saving Cressida time, but with all the fantasizing, it’s probably taking her twice as long. Oh well. It’ll definitely be worth it. Probably. She hopes.

Worst comes to worst, she can just masturbate in her grimy uniform to get something out of this.

Cressida rubs her hands together, sauntering down the mech bay’s central catwalk. She’s put it off for long enough, it’s time to get to work on the Galaxy Meridian. She flips open her little pocket notebook and starts writing out a checklist as she walks. Left side impact to the thorax... that’s gonna be a delicate one. Probably take her an hour, she muses. And that’s before fixing anything. Worst case scenario, it could take six. She sighs. Best to get it out of the way right away.

As she rounds the corner to the mech’s left side, she notices an armor panel leaning against the catwalk railing. Huh? She stands over it, evaluating its shape. That’s the panel she’d remove to get into the mech’s inner workings to check what she needed to. Did someone already get started?

She turns to the where the panel would normally be mounted, and blinks in bafflement. Someone in black tights and a white skirt (a QM pilot’s uniform???) is crawling backwards out of the opening, giving Cressida a great view of their ass. Which she dumbfoundedly appreciates, for a moment, before her brain catches up.

“What–”

But she can’t finish the sentence. As soon as Cressida speaks, whoever it is startles and kicks out on reflex with one foot. Cressida may be wiry-strong, but she can’t take a hit to the jaw. She drops immediately. But the maneuver also puts her assailant off-balance. With a yelp, whoever it is collapses on top of Cressida, all their weight driving the breath right out of her.

When she regains her senses, Cressida finds herself face to face with Soleil Rand. “Are you okay?” the pilot anxiously exclaims, pushing a lock of Cressida’s curly hair out of the way. “I’m so sorry!”

“Buh,” Cressida eloquently replies. “Lei? What were you doing in there?”

Soleil exhales, smiling. “Oh, thank goodness. I was trying to ease your workload a little!”

Cressida blinks dully. “But... you don’t know what you’re doing in there.”

“I know enough! I took a field repair course back at the academy,” Soleil beams. “And, anyway, I was just checking. Where’s your–” She sits up, straddling Cressida’s hips, and casts about for the notebook Cressida dropped when she fell. “Ah! Here. It’s mostly fine, I’ll write it all down for you.”

Cressida squints. “Look at you, you got your uniform all filthy.”

Soleil giggles, cheeks flushing. “I know,” she sighs happily, scribbling something on the pad. “There was a severed hose somewhere in the back. It was dripping oil everywhere! I pinched it off with a clamp, though, so we’re not losing any more.”

Cressida rubs her jaw. That’s gonna leave a bruise, she muses to herself. “That’s gonna be a bitch to clean, I hope you know that. You got a spare?”

Soleil tilts her head. “No? I thought this stuff came right out in the wash? I mean, um, I’ve gotten grease on myself before and it was fine!”

Cressida blinks. “When was that? I’d have noticed if you pulled a stunt like this before now.”

Soleil reddens further, stammering. “Uh, y-y’know. Occupational hazard with these... big machines, right? A ha ha...”

Yeah, that’s convincing. Cressida raises one eyebrow and reaches up to cup Soleil’s cheek. With her thumb, she rubs at the grease stain there, noting Soleil is suddenly very sweaty in the process. “The grease we use comes right off skin,” she levelly retorts. “If you’d actually got it on your clothes before, you’d realize it stains like a motherfucker.”

Soleil stiffens, eyes unfocusing to stare into the void. “Oh no.”

Cressida chuckles. “So much for your perfect record. That’s a uniform infraction right there, and you’ll have to talk to Pissy Officer Tightass to get it replaced. You know that’s coming out of your salary, Lei. No way you can convince him this mess wasn’t avoidable.”

The pilot audibly swallows. “Oh... I’m so stupid.” Her shoulders tremble, tears welling up in her eyes. Her eye makeup – she was wearing makeup in there??? – starts to run. “All I wanted was–”

Cressida grins. “To entice me?”

Soleil’s eyes go wide. “H-how’d you know?”

The mechanic pats Soleil’s cheek, sitting up so Soleil is now in her lap. “Remember how I went drinking last night with the other mechanics?”

“Mhm?” Soleil dabs at her eyes, only smearing her eyeliner further.

Cressida wraps her arms around Soleil. “I hooked up with Katya.” A chuckle, as Soleil shudders. “Lei, that woman is a gossip, and she’s got a hard-on for pilots a mile long. I’d bet good money, like, real money, that half the regulars at the Wiring Harness know about your fun little adventure by now.”

“Oh no,” Soleil despairs, squeezing her eyes shut. “Oh fuck.”

Cressida pats the rigid pilot on the back affectionately. “It’s okay. She doesn’t mean any harm by it. She didn’t share the details, even when I asked - I think all she’s doing is letting people know that grease on you means you’re looking for a good time.” She smiles at Soleil’s sharp intake of breath. “She’s trying to help you live out your fantasy, not spread rumors. She’s swearing people to secrecy about it.”

Soleil takes a couple of deep breaths. “O-okay, that’s... not as bad, I mean I still would’ve preferred she discuss it with me first, but...” Her train of thought visibly derails. “--You asked? About... the sex we had??”

Cressida giggles. “Well, how else was I supposed to know how to do you right, Lei?”

“Ah–” Soleil goes red as a tomato again.

“How did I know?” Cressida asks, before she can. “Listen, you’ve been spending way more time in the mech bay lately, and you’ve gotten way shyer around me. It doesn’t take a college degree in physics to put two and two together there, but I do have one of those, so let’s just say I caught on pretty quick.” She squeezes Soleil in a tight embrace, then lets go.

Soleil hugs her back. “W-well, I think we should still communicate about this properly!” She takes a deep breath, hiccuping twice. “Cressida, w-would you be interested in having sex with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask, Lei,” Cressida murmurs into her ear, enjoying the way Soleil quivers. “If the uniform’s already ruined... what say we have some fun with it before you throw it out? Why don’t I really make a mess of you?”

“P-please,” Soleil whimpers. “I’d love that.”

Cressida had insisted on fixing the oil leak before doing anything else. Soleil, all worked up at the prospect of getting fucked by her friend, was initially disappointed.

When Cressida crawls back out of the mech covered in black stains, however, it’s all Soleil can do not to pass out from sheer lust. “There,” Cressida smirks, wiping her sweat from her brow and leaving another smear of oil. “Waste not, want not.” Then, she crosses the distance to Soleil in two steps and cups the pilot’s chin in her greasy hands.

Soleil shudders as Cressida kisses her. She can feel the marks Cressida is leaving on her skin. The smooth coolness of the grease sends tingles all the way down her spine to her crotch. Already, her head is swimming. She breaks the kiss, a rivulet of drool trickling down her chin, and takes several quick breaths to scavenge some oxygen. But her attempt to calm down is foiled by Cressida planting her lips on her neck instead, by a greasy hand tangling in her hair. She moans, loud, the sound echoing in the empty mech bay.

“Just imagine the talking-to you’re going to get when PO Titus sees this,” Cressida hums, closing her fists around Soleil’s lapels and roughly wrenching them apart. “You really should’ve known better,” Cressida mocks. She gropes one of Soleil’s breasts, smearing grease on the delicate white frills in the front of her shirt. Soleil gasps. “Couldn’t even get into casual clothes first? Wait, do you even own any of those?”

“I-I have some dresses,” she manages. “And some button-downs.”

“Huh,” Cressida exhales against Soleil’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you wear them. Now I kinda want to.” Her other hand finds Soleil’s other breast, grabbing the delicate fabric and tearing it open. “No bra today? Don’t mind if I do.” She pulls the shirt open wider, sliding it down Soleil’s body. “You’d absolutely kill in a light sundress. Fuck. I don’t think I’d be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“P-propriety’s overrated...”

“Never thought I’d hear you of all people say something like that.”

“I-I had a dream you were fucking me in front of everyone once,” Soleil weakly admits. “That’s still not out of my system yet...”

“Damn, girl. Maybe we can work our way up to that.” Cressida leans back, whistling. “Wow, look at you already!”

Soleil obediently glances down at the ruin Cressida’s made of her shirt. “Oh... oh...” She smiles nervously.

While Soleil is still looking down, Cressida prods the pilot’s right nipple. “Look at this nice blank canvas,” she chuckles. “I’m gonna sign my name.” Using her oily fingertip, she writes CRESSIDA across Soleil’s bare chest, the letters getting smaller as she goes because she didn’t plan the spacing properly. Soleil trembles with delight the whole time.

When done with her autograph, Cressida pulls Soleil in for another kiss. This one’s rougher, sloppier, and hungrier. Soleil moans emphatically into her mouth, eyelids fluttering closed. Cressida responds to her neediness with more tongue.

“Damn, you’re fun to play with,” Cressida pants, when they part again. “Should I ruin your skirt next?” She puts her hands on Soleil’s hips.

Soleil presses her thighs together. “Please!” she squeaks.

Cressida draws in even closer, sliding her hands around to cup Soleil’s ass. She squeezes roughly, her knee teasing Soleil’s thighs apart again. “That’s gonna leave a nice pair of handprints for sure,” she growls against Soleil’s neck. Soleil whines, pressing herself against Cressida’s thoughtfully proffered thigh. Cressida notices and lets out a chuckle. “Oh, you’re ready ready, huh. We gotta get this wreck off you.”

“Please,” Soleil pants. “Save some of the grease for me.”

Cressida leans back, making solemn eye contact with Soleil. Soleil stares eagerly into her eyes. Cressida’s hands slide around to the front of the skirt and burrow into the waist. Gripping the waistband tightly, Cressida strains, pulling it taut and squeezing Soleil’s stomach... and nothing else. “Dammit,” she mutters. “Wanted to tear it off.”

Soleil giggles. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Taking it off slowly is just as hot.”

Cressida unbuttons the marred skirt and lets it slip slowly down off of Soleil’s hips. Then, she gently extricates Soleil from her jacket and shirt, leaving tights the only thing between Soleil and complete nudity.

The only thing.

Cressida squints. “You are just full of surprises, Lei.”

Soleil just squirms against her, grinding on Cressida’s thigh and panting with need.

“Easy, girl, I still gotta get those off first. And I have a bit more writing to do.”

Ruefully, Soleil backs off. Cressida doesn’t make her wait, peeling the tights down so enthusiastically that they rip. Soleil shivers at that and steps out of them.

Cressida taps the pile of clothing with her foot. “Think that’ll be comfy enough for you? It’ll be easier to write on you if you lie down.”

Soleil nods, spreading the ruined uniform out for padding and lying faceup on the catwalk. Cressida straddles her and rests her greasy hands on Soleil’s shoulders. She can’t resist kissing Soleil again, this time hard enough to smear her lipstick. But once Soleil is writhing and gasping for air, she remembers what she was doing again. She sits up and considers her canvas for a moment.

On Soleil’s tummy, Cressida writes PLEASE FUCK ME in grease, then THANKS KATYA on one of Soleil’s biceps. Moving further down, she writes DIRTY MESS up one thigh and DESPERATE down the other.

Soleil props herself up on her elbows and cranes her neck to read it all, shivering when she realizes what it all says. Cressida leans forward and kisses her again, then writes one more thing on her forehead. Soleil pouts. “I can’t see that.”

Cressida pulls out her tablet and stands up. “Can I take a picture for you, then?”

Soleil gasps, lying flat again and nodding.

“Good, Lei. Just stay like that,” Cressida croons. The click of each picture being taken sends a new tremor through her body, until she can’t keep her thighs apart anymore and starts squirming.

Cressida laughs. “Okay, I guess that’s enough.” She settles back down next to Soleil, turning the tablet around to show her the pictures.

Soleil gasps at the sight. She stares at herself. These aren’t like the posters at all. In the posters, she’s stern and graceful and as beautiful as she’s told to be. In Cressida’s candid photos, though, she’s imperfect. Vulnerable. Human. And, of course, a big fucking mess. Her toes curl. “That’s good. Really good. Can you, um, zoom in on my forehead?”

Cressida obliges her. The word on Soleil’s forehead is four simple letters: SLUT.

Soleil shudders.

“You okay, Lei?” Cressida asks, glancing at the tablet, then tilting her head. “That’s not too far, is it?”

“N-no, that’s great, that’s perfect,” she hurriedly answers. “I just... imagined walking around in public like this.”

Cressida sucks in a breath, then lets it out in the form of a low whistle. “Well, now I’m imagining you doing that, so thanks.”

They both lapse into silence, imaginations feverish with all kinds of lascivious thoughts.

“Ooh!” pipes up Cressida, after a few moments. “Can I send these to Katya? She’d get a kick out of it, I think.”

Soleil takes a deep breath. “P-please do. Let me know what she says.”

“I’ll make it a group chat so you can see too.” Cressida taps away at the tablet for a bit.

A bit turns into a minute. Soleil stares up at Cressida with pleading eyes. Finally, Cressida glances up. “Oh right, I’m supposed to be fucking you!”

Soleil giggles. “U-um, yes. Could we get back to that?”

Moments later, Cressida’s clothes have joined Soleil’s on the floor, and Cressida is kneeling between the disheveled pilot’s legs, lazily playing with Soleil’s clit. With her free hand, she takes hold of Soleil’s shin and hooks it over her own shoulder, spreading her legs wide. Cressida admires the view for just a moment - her hands are still a bit greasy and she’s leaving some serious marks down there. But, before too long, temptation overtakes her.

“I don’t want to risk putting these things in you,” she announces, showing Soleil her greasy hand. “It’s fine on the skin, but I don’t know if it’s safe inside. So, instead—” She scoots forwards, gently pressing her own pussy against Soleil’s.

Soleil whines. “Ah, Cressida, that’s—”

“Sure is.” Cressida twists her hips a bit, angling to bring their clits together. Soleil suddenly figures out what she’s trying to do. She also squirms to angle her hips right. Cressida gasps. Fuck, all this slick grinding is making her realize how turned on she was herself. She hardly even noticed, too intent on pleasuring Soleil. She presses herself against Soleil a little harder, grinding a little more aggressively.

Finally, the little clitoral kiss she was hoping for. Cressida moans at the same time as Soleil, then laughs at the synchronicity. “There we are,” she breathes, rolling her hips to gently frot against Soleil. “Delicate operation, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” pants Soleil. “Please, Cressida. Harder.”

Cressida shivers. “Lei, have I told you yet how fucking hot it is when you beg?” she huskily remarks.

Soleil just whines happily.

Taking a deep breath, Cressida gives her what she wants. She rams her hips forward and begins to fiercely grind. Soleil responds immediately, arching her back and keening with need. Cressida has to brace herself with her free hand not to topple backwards - the sensation, and Soleil’s noises, are quickly making her legs weak.

But dammit, her glutes still work, and work they continue to.

Soleil starts to get very loud indeed. Her moans are echoing among the silent mechs again. Cressida pants, enjoying the rich aural landscape, and occasionally contributing to it as well. But all of a sudden, she pauses. There’s a mechanical thrum mixed in among the moaning.

It sounds an awful lot like the mech bay’s elevator.

Soleil whimpers. “Why’d you stop?”

Cressida, who was honestly getting close herself, exhales. Fuck it. Not worth worrying about. The most important thing in the whole galaxy right now is getting them both off. “Thought I heard something.” She starts grinding again.

Procurement Officer Gregory Titus taps his foot impatiently. Can’t they make this elevator go any faster? How inefficient. Time is money.

Time is why he is here today, right now, at this very moment. He scheduled an appointment with QM-4 Single-Slit through the shared calendar about her expenditures, and she has the temerity not to show up on time! Thereby obliging him to find her, extricate her from whatever distraction has befallen her, and drag her back by the ear. Honestly. The nerve of these pilots.

PO Titus’s boots clank briskly down the catwalk. The pilots like to lurk in here, sometimes, right? They get attached to their gigantic war machines, perhaps more so than is healthy. It seems a logical place to search.

What’s that noise? Sounds like someone speaking, down the row by the Galaxy Meridian. He quickens his pace, rounding the corner and—

For a moment, PO Titus is completely unable to make sense of what he’s witnessing. Gradually, shapes that don’t make sense in this context resolve in his mind. That’s Chief Mechanic Cressida Banner, very naked, wide-eyed, straddling – that can’t be QM-1 Eclipse, can it? No, it has to be a lookalike – no that’s very much her, he can see her uniform in ruins beneath her – also naked – what’s that on her skin, is that grease – words – oh, now she’s shuddering all over, she made eye contact – and it clicks, finally, in his brain.

He is not supposed to be witnessing this. This is a very private moment he is intruding on.

“My sincerest apologies!” he shrills, and sprints for the elevator as fast as his legs can carry him.

Soleil adjusts her brand new uniform’s lapels. “I’m astonished he let us off with a warning. And dipped into the squadron budget.”

“He’s fucking embarrassed, is what it is!” Cressida laughs. “He doesn’t want to think about what he saw, so he did whatever it took to get us out of his hair ASAP.”

Soleil flushes. “He’s embarrassed? I was so startled when he popped out that I came right then and there. I’m never living that down.”

Cressida wraps an arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay, Lei. Sex can get weird. I get it, no judgment at all. We’ll do it somewhere more private next time.”

“Yeah, I think I’m good on the, um, risk of exposure for the moment.”

“Hey, speaking of which, what’d Katya say?”

Soleil blinks. “Oh!” She pulls out her tablet and locates the group text in question. Her own nudes, scrawled all over with Cressida’s shameless writing, make her quiver with joy again. And beneath them, five new messages:

Soleil finds herself beaming. That instantly improved her mood. “Ah... You know, I think I care about her opinion a little more than I do PO Titus’s.”

Cressida cackles. “Atta girl.” She leans in to kiss Soleil on the (freshly washed and once again spotless) cheek, and Soleil cuddles up next to her. “Net positive?”

“Oh, I never said it wasn’t. That was wonderful, Cressie.” Soleil rests her head on Cressida’s shoulder.

Cressida gapes. “I get a nickname from you now?!”

Soleil giggles. “It felt kinda formal, calling you Cressida while we were having sex. I workshopped it in the shower.”

Cressida wraps her in a tight hug. “You really know how to make a gal feel special, Lei.”

Soleil leans up to kiss her on the nose. “Right back at you, Cressie.”