Chapter 85: Even Bigger Than the Mecha Controls
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Distant Star had been crafted as a prototype, every inch personally polished and inspected by Lu Yao. From the largest steel framework to the choice of materials for each button on the control panel, nothing had been left to chance—every detail calculated and designed with precision.
The control stick beside the pilot’s seat was no exception. Its height and length, the angle for each gear, whether the top should be metal or leather—all of it had been meticulously recorded in complex design tables. Even the shape and size of the stick’s head had undergone hundreds, perhaps thousands, of surveys, prototypes, and field tests, ultimately adjusted to match the average hand size of mecha pilots.
Compared to ordinary omegas, Lu Yao’s hands weren’t average. They were long, strong, and elegant, closer to the dimensions of a mecha pilot’s hands. Gripping and moving the control stick felt comfortable, almost natural. But he never expected Zhou Yunchen to surpass the stick by so much.
How could this be…Lu Yao couldn’t see anything now, but he didn’t need to. He could sense the stick’s measurements by touch alone—measurements honed through countless tests. Thinking about the current situation, the contrast of data made a cold fear crawl up his spine.
Amidst the faint sounds, Zhou Yunchen suddenly heard soft, suppressed sobs, a bitter ache lodged deep in his throat. “Lu Yao…” The name sent electric shivers through his nerves. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to do this for me.”
“Shut up.” Lu Yao’s nose tingled, but his tone left no room for argument. “Hurry. I’m tired.” Blood rushed to Zhou Yunchen’s brain, plunging him into another hurricane of molten chaos.
Half-awake, half-asleep, Zhou Yunchen caught an unfamiliar scent. His mind reacted instinctively. When he realized what it was, he shot upright, startled awake. The bright lights made his head throb. As the dizziness faded and his vision cleared, he saw Lu Yao in the pilot’s seat, legs bent, wearing only a shirt.
Long hair fell freely over broad shoulders, legs stretched across the seat, smooth and pale. The cockpit’s lingering scent confirmed that what had just occurred was not some vile, obscene dream.
Lu Yao hadn’t activated any olfactory stimulators, so he couldn’t smell the blush-inducing air—and he’d forgotten to turn on the ventilation system. But Zhou Yunchen could smell it. He also realized his military uniform had been removed, neatly folded with Lu Yao’s gray uniform at the edge of the control panel. Water had coagulated into pale edges on the fabric.
Even more unsettling, he had no idea what Lu Yao had done to Distant Star’s cockpit, but somehow, a single bed wide enough for him now stood ready inside, apparently for Zhou Yunchen to rest.
Yes. For Zhou Yunchen to rest. After the exhausting chaos, the alpha lost consciousness again. His omega, alone and weary, rose to collect clothes, construct the bed, and tidy the cockpit. In his most depraved imaginings, Zhou Yunchen had considered countless scenarios for contact with Lu Yao—being scolded, shot afterward, or crushed by the mecha—but never, ever this.
He chose to surrender, collapsing onto the bed, wishing it had all never happened. But fate refused him mercy. The temporary bed creaked under its mechanical assembly. Lu Yao looked up at the sound and turned toward Zhou Yunchen. “You’re awake?”
Zhou Yunchen wanted to say he wasn’t, to escape the awkwardness, but Lu Yao was already rising. The rumpled white shirt barely covered his upper legs. Beneath the thin layer of skin and fat, muscle moved with a quiet, mesmerizing strength. Cold and pale as jade, yet undeniably powerful, the lines of muscle extended into the shadow beneath the shirt’s hem.
Zhou Yunchen’s Adam’s apple rolled unconsciously. The next moment, Lu Yao sat on the edge of the bed. Zhou Yunchen’s hand brushed against his thigh, fingers twitching involuntarily. Feeling the contact, Lu Yao lifted his hand and placed Zhou Yunchen’s on his own leg. The cool skin felt like a blade against Zhou Yunchen’s joints, leaving him frozen.
Lu Yao didn’t notice the rapid beat of Zhou Yunchen’s heart. He tested his forehead with a finger; the heat had subsided. “How do you feel? Has your rut ended?”
The instant his hand left, a sudden emptiness and shock surged through Zhou Yunchen. A nasally gasp escaped him. “I… don’t think so.”
“Do we need to stay here longer?” Lu Yao asked, reconsidering. “Do you want to stay here?”
“Mm.” Zhou Yunchen gripped Lu Yao’s fingers. Those pale, icy-blue eyes, calm and questioning, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, and shamefully aware of his own base impulses.
Lu Yao’s composure made him feel guilty and debased, though it was Lu Yao who was barely dressed… Wait.
Zhou Yunchen glanced down at himself, then at his legs beneath the blanket that Lu Yao had somehow conjured from somewhere inside Distant Star. Lu Yao had stripped him bare, then placed him under the blanket, thoughtfully folding a coil of wire as a pillow.
“My clothes?” Zhou Yunchen drew a deep breath, asking as calmly as he could. Lu Yao blinked and tilted his chin, pointing. “They’re washed.”
Wet underwear and shirt hung from a mechanical arm. Light and easy to wash, they had been cleaned. The heavier uniform jacket had been folded aside for a housekeeping robot to handle later.
Seeing the damp, wrinkled fabric, memories of the previous chaos flooded Zhou Yunchen’s mind. The mess, the mud, the ruined outerwear… Lu Yao had helped him change, even wiped him down in the process.
Heaving, Zhou Yunchen’s throat burned. He almost wanted to bash his head against Distant Star. Lu Yao studied him for a few seconds. The bruising around his eyes and stubble made the General look haggard. The exposed shoulders and back bore scars, the traces of years past finally revealed on this alpha in stark clarity.
Beneath that roughness and strength, there seemed to lie a certain fragility and loneliness. When the military uniform, the emblem of power and authority, was stripped away, these complex emotions finally surfaced.
Some theories suggested that rutting alphas naturally revealed their most vulnerable side to omegas. Doing so would trigger the omega’s inherent protective instincts, strengthening emotional bonds and social cohesion, and ultimately increasing reproductive success.
Whatever the truth in the primitive era, Federation’s gender ideology now encouraged alphas to confront their inner selves. Suppressing the sensitivity and fragility of this period because of societal expectations of alpha dominance could lead to irreparable mental breakdowns.
Lu Yao didn’t know whether Zhou Yunchen’s state was consciously voluntary or physiologically involuntary. Still, a quiet, gentle warmth rose in his chest. He leaned a little closer, wrapping his arms around the hunched alpha.
So warm. Though Lu Yao had intended to comfort Zhou Yunchen, the constant heat emanating from his strong body made him squint in pleasure. He hugged him a little tighter. But Zhou Yunchen’s broad shoulders, narrow waist, and firm muscles made holding him challenging.
The alpha buried his face in Lu Yao’s shoulder, silent and unreadable. Lu Yao could feel the extreme tension along Zhou Yunchen’s back. He lightly patted it, then shifted to gentle up-and-down scratches, the same way one would pet a cat.
There was no erotic intent in the motion; it floated like a soft, white feather in the air, brushing Zhou Yunchen’s sturdy back. The heat radiating from those muscles made Lu Yao’s own body flush. Zhou Yunchen’s tense shoulder blades gradually relaxed. Lu Yao slowed his movements, eventually stopping entirely.
“Don’t stop.” Heat wafted through Lu Yao’s hair as Zhou Yunchen spoke, a hint of tentative pleading in his tone. But Lu Yao didn’t move. He gave a crisp tap to his back. “Do you like it? We’ll continue later. I need to check if the mecha has any nutrients—I’m hungry. You should eat something too.”
“There are some.” Zhou Yunchen reluctantly released Lu Yao and prepared to get down to fetch them. The cool air made him suddenly aware of how exposed he was. He stiffly turned to find a blanket to cover himself. Even the ever-calm Lu Yao’s eyelashes twitched, and he bit his lip, averting his gaze.
Zhou Yunchen retrieved the nutrient packs from the rear cabin. They split one, ate, and as their blood sugar rose, Lu Yao’s eyelids began to droop. “You should get some sleep,” he murmured. Lu Yao rubbed his face. “Weren’t you hoping I’d keep scratching your back?”
“I…” For a brief moment, Zhou Yunchen felt like a child, a cat, or some small, vulnerable creature that could only ask Lu Yao for warmth and comfort. Lu Yao didn’t hesitate.
“Go lie down. We can fit two if we squeeze together.” He forced his eyes open, adjusted the coiled wire used as a pillow, making room for their heads, and lay down beside Zhou Yunchen. He let out a shallow yawn. Zhou Yunchen turned on his side, back to him, and Lu Yao slowly traced his fingers along the alpha’s spine and ribcage, moving with deliberate, gentle care.
His nails were short; it was the pads of his fingers that touched the skin, soft and slightly ticklish, like floating into a cloud. The cloud’s drift slowed and lightened, gentle as a hazy winter sunset, scattering pale pink light across Zhou Yunchen’s back. His fingers curled, leaving only the knuckles and forehead resting against the alpha’s back. Lu Yao leaned against Zhou Yunchen and fell asleep.
Author’s Note:
Two cats snuggling…
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