The cockpit was dim, only the soft green backlight of idle systems glowing across the panels. You stood just outside the hatch, arms crossed, pretending you were checking calibrations on your tablet.

But your eyes kept drifting.

Kaidan was already seated inside, one leg hooked over the console lip like he owned the damn mech, relaxed, loose, too much skin showing where his suit was unzipped to the chest. The ST hadn't even powered up yet. He wasn’t in a rush.

“Old pal's still got tension in the joints,” he muttered, stretching an arm across the throttle panel like he was talking to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. “Feels tight.”

Then his hand slid onto the throttle.

Not grabbed. Not forced.

Just... settled there.

And then it started.

A pump. Lazy. Smooth.

Then another, slower this time, deeper. The lever gave under his palm with a soft groan, just enough resistance to make the motion deliberate.

His thumb dragged along the inner groove, circling once, then stroking back toward the base. His middle finger tapped the release notch, barely flicking it, like he was testing its patience.

He exhaled, not a sigh, just a breath. Measured.

“You gotta know how to ease it into gear,” he murmured, voice dipped low, lips barely moving. “No sudden jerks. It likes it better when you… take your time.”

Another pump. Then another. His grip adjusted subtly, fingers tightening on the downstroke, loosening on the pullback. The kind of precision that didn’t come from training modules. It came from experience.

Years of it.

And it didn’t help that he looked good doing it. Too good. Legs spread, back slightly arched from the cockpit seat, hand working that throttle like it was second nature. Like his whole body knew the rhythm without needing to think.

“You watching?”

The question cut through the static.

He didn't look at you, but he knew.

And the throttle moved again. Slower. With that same practiced drag of his thumb along the underside, just shy of a full stroke.

"It's not that different from everything else," he added, tone easy. "Give it the right pressure... the right pace..."

Another pump.

"And it'll do exactly what you want."

He let go with one last, sharp click. Sat back like the machine had finally settled. His hand dropped to his thigh, lazy, resting, but his fingers were still twitching slightly, like they weren’t done.

Kaidan looked at you then, finally.

And smirked, like he hadn’t just spent the last minute giving the ST exactly what you were thinking about.