Wake-up Call – Chapter 40 – Armed and Mastered – Part 5

Hannah's waist feels small between my hands.

She is driving slowly, my bike smoothly obeying her as she takes us along the seaside street. The breeze from the ocean is constantly cool on my exposed face, yet it doesn't always stop me from being enveloped in orange blossoms and that uniquely Hannah scent of hers that keeps drifting to me from the fanning hair that spreads from below the edge of her borrowed helmet.

And I was stupid enough not to wear my gloves, to just lay my bare hands on top of her leather jacket, and I keep feeling its texture, keep noticing how much thinner it is than I expected, how her tight muscle shifts beneath it, beneath her dress, beneath my touch. How she tightens and relaxes at each winding curve of the nearly deserted street.

And that would be bad enough, but then comes my imagination.

Because it's been too long since I was with a woman, much less one I found as attractive as she is, and so I can't stop myself from thinking about how her body would shift as I held her above me, as she writhed in…

I blame the alcohol.

Really, almost half a bottle of red just for me? After years without touching the stuff? What was I thinking?

Other than how much I was enjoying my evening out with my friend, who's also a beautiful woman that I am attracted to, who outright told me she likes me and kept offering me signs of physical affection.

Yes, I certainly don't understand why I may have gotten carried away. There's absolutely no reason at all.

"Colin?" she says, turning to me after gently stopping at the red light, her voice carrying over the low purr of the engine vibrating beneath us.

"Yes?" I answer, leaning forward so she can… hear me better.

And so I can feel a brief touch of her back on my chest.

Damn it.

"You can… hold me tighter," she says, turning away right before she finishes the line.

And then she takes my hand off her waist and pulls on my arm so I hug her to me.

My breath hitches, and I freeze.

Then the light switches to green, Hannah drives forward, and I…

I hug her with both arms.

***

"I want to see your lab," she says after a few seconds of silence go by, only punctuated by the shifting hum of the spacious elevator that goes from the subaquatic garage of the Rig to the living quarters.

"I… you've been there plenty of times," I tell her, stupidly, yet again reminding myself how long it's been since my last date and how out of practice I am in interpreting hints, even ones as obvious as this.

"Colin…" she admonishes me, her tone curt, her eyes looking up at me even as her head looks down.

I swallow, uncertain, and I look at the buttons on the side of the elevator.

And then I push the one to my lab's floor.

***

"Here it is, as sterile as ever," I say as I open the door.

"Well, that's one way to describe it," she ruefully comments as she walks past me and into my workspace, her hips swaying as she walks with one foot in front of the other.

Her jacket is short, stopping a little below her waist, and so I can see those hips of hers move from side to side, I can see how tightly her black dress stretches across her curves, I can see…

How she's starting to turn toward me, so I swiftly raise my eyes before this becomes too incriminating.

"Well? What have you been working on?" she asks me with a broad smile nearly no one ever puts on when they are forced to inquire about my work.

So…

I step inside my workshop and walk to the computerized table currently set in the middle of it.

"This," I say as I turn on the holographic displays that blaze into being with blue fulgor, "is my current set of upgrades for an anti-Behemoth vehicle."

The resulting bike is still recognizable as my own, the color scheme unchanged from my distinct cobalt blue and silver and the profile mostly the same for aerodynamic reasons that I solved a long time ago.

It's still bulkier, the extra space an unfortunate requirement for the extra shielding of the components that can't be adequately addressed just with a change in materials. Not that I don't make extensive use of metamaterial properties, but the monster's kill aura and dynakinesis are overwhelming enough that I just know that won't ever be enough.

I don't know what will be enough.

"I want one," Hannah chimes in as soon as she's taken the displayed specs in.

"Tinker equipment—"

"Then you're carrying me."

"Hannah… putting two high-value targets like ourselves in the same position—"

She steps up, presses against me, her black dress once again rubbing against me because of her open jacket, and she kisses me.

Her lips are soft, and they carry some of that spice her scent assaults me with. Her hands run through my cropped hair, pulling me down to her even as I feel her shift into her tiptoes, her whole body against mine, her warmth so much more soothing than I thought it would be, her softness something I crave, something I—

"Together. We'll face death together," she says, eyes blazing, lips thinned into a tense line.

I stare at her, unable to do anything but. Unable to even think about what this young woman actually feels to so fiercely proclaim such a thing.

And I… I think I understand.

Because it's hopeless. It's a losing battle, a holding pattern until the next inevitable defeat. Because we both have seen comrades die. We have looked where an errant wave has passed, leaving nothing behind to remember those taken by black waters; we have listened to Dragon's dispassionate voice warning someone about the bomb about to go off if they didn't get away from the song that would turn them against us; we have witnessed lightning sweeping across a battleline, leaving only charred meat behind.

We know every time can be the last.

And we still go.

We still fight.

"We will," I tell her, my hands once more around her thin waist, this time below the black leather and over soft, stretched fabric that pours the warmth underneath into me.

Her hands pull my neck down, and she kisses me once again, her tongue rushing in to meet mine.

Dragon was right: I did write a notebook.

I'm not… an intuitive person. I learn by studying, practicing, analyzing.

And my first kiss was a disaster of clicking teeth, bumping noses, and bruised lips.

But I studied, I practiced, I analyzed.

And now I slowly drag my tongue along Hannah's own, inviting her further inside me before I close my lips around her, suck in, feel her arms tense around me, and then I push forward, licking along her palate, her tongue, my fingers tightening around her toned sides, pulling her to me, taking half a step forward as I lean down over her, bending her back as her right leg lifts once again, not to suggestively dismount my bike, but to circle around me, pulling me even closer to her, feeling the increasingly tight front of my jeans push against her.

She moans into my mouth, and I almost cheer. One more point for the notebook.

"Colin…" she whispers, her breath ragged against my wet lips, her eyes wide. "I didn't think you would be… you know…"

"I don't know whether to feel insulted or flattered," I wryly reply.

"Flattered. Definitely flattered," she says, her lips softening into a smile that makes my heart roar faster.

Then her right hand, so small for all the power she wields, lies in the middle of my chest and pushes me back.

Right into a tangle of robotic limbs that I haven't activated.

"Wha—"

"Hello, Colin. Did you think about what we talked about before?" Dragon's soft voice whispers from all over my workshop.

Hannah looks at me in bashful apology, and three monitors unfold from the ceiling, all of them displaying the same woman.

The same sheer-red-negligee-wearing woman.

"What are you—"

"Hannah and I… Talked. For quite a while. We hit it off a while ago after you dragged us into your parenting issues—"

"For the last time: Lisa is not my daughter—"

"Biology only gets you so far," Hannah mutters.

I glare at her.

She has the decency to scratch the underside of her jaw as she turns to the side.

"Being a deadbeat is very unattractive," Dragon chides with a smile that always does things to me, and she's usually wearing [regular] clothes[.]

Really, her pale, freckled skin, her petite bust, her thin shoulders, the start of a very trim belly hinted through barely-there cloth… I'm not sober enough to handle this.

"Dragon—"

"No. Listen," she harshly interrupts, something in her eyes hard enough I can only obey. "I… I told you I was open to Hannah and you… To Hannah and you. And I told Hannah the same thing. And… And she's a selfless, generous heroine, so she told me she didn't want to mess with what you and I have been dancing around for years, but… But I want her to. I want her to give you everything I haven't given you yet. I want you to be happy, as happy as I can't make you, and I—"

She's distraught, her avatar once more desynching, and…

And it looks like it's my turn to cut her off.

"Dragon, no. This… It isn't about you. It's not about anything that you have or haven't done; it can't be that. It would be indecent if it was about that. You… I… I love you, Dragon. Just as you are. And if that means—"

Hannah kisses me.

I feel like I should be complaining about the two women not letting me speak, but really, I can't find it in myself to do so.

How mysterious.

"You're noble. And brave. And loyal. And stupidly, distractingly hot. And you've been in love with her for years, and I keep thinking about you despite that, and… And I agree: this isn't about making up for anything. It can't be that. But… But you like me. And she's okay with that."

Her eyes plead up to me, asking me to answer in the way she expects and that I don't understand.

"But… How can we be sure? How can we know this isn't hurting Dra—"

Two robotic arms delicately come between Hannah and me. And then rip my shirt apart.

"… I don't have that many of those, you know?" I feel it only fair to comment.

"I'll buy you however many you want; just let me enjoy the eye candy," Dragon lasciviously says, her tripled avatar slowly dragging the back of her hand down the side of her right breast.

"Please don't try to circumvent the conversation by making me too horny to speak," I plead.

She chuckles, and something in Hannah's shoulders relaxes.

"Oh? Do you mean it's working, [Colin?]" the voice that's whispered in my ear for hundreds of hours purrs.

In a way I haven't heard from her before.

And…

"I am starting to feel upstaged," Hannah mutters.

And then she steps back, once more exaggeratedly swaying her hips until she bumps into my table and the blazing blue lines of hologram designs frame her silhouette.

One of Dragon's monitors is attentively turning, following her every step of the way, and Hannah spares a quick, almost bashful smile to her before she shrugs, letting her jacket slide down her arms until it's only held by the elastic on her wrists. Then she twirls in place, turning her back to me, the jacket acting like a thick sarong that hides her backside as she swings her arms left and right, teasing me with the way shiny black leather sticks to her shape until she shoots me an inquiring look over her shoulder that soon turns mischievous as she finally takes her left arm entirely off the sleeve and throws the jacket away to quietly impact against the brushed metal of my walls.

Then, keeping eye contact, her grin still firmly in place, she leans forward, her palms spreading flat over my metal and glass table until she grips the edges and her ass points straight up, the already succulent curve exaggerated by her arching back.

And she sways from side to side, drawing a slow, lazy, [maddening] eight with her body.

I just stare at her, not even able to look back into her eyes once she gets going, once she [dances], showing off just how she has toned her body to perfection, how her dress may be purposefully loose on her chest, yet is anything but below her waist.

I only have enough willpower to briefly glance at her legs, and that's just to check that they are, in fact, as mesmerizing as when I caught brief, furtive glimpses of them while driving her to our date.

And, after I don't know how long of this, robotic arms that hold my arms, legs, and hips lift me with an electric whine and push me forward.

"Dragon, I think we should talk about this—" I protest as I catch Hannah smiling broadly and invitingly.

"We will. I promise we will. But, for now, let me give you something to talk about," Dragon says.

And she takes my pants and boxers off with a deftness that makes me want to program a dressing routine in my lab.

Hannah, apparently, also appreciates the feat of engineering, because she's now biting her lip as she looks at…

At the product of said feat of engineering. Yes. Definitely. That's what catches her interest.

And when Dragon pushes me forward once again, my body entirely lifted off the ground as a few nimble arms work off my shoes and socks, Hannah arches her back further, and I seamlessly slide between her firm cheeks.

The eight narrows, bouncing my erection from side to side before she decides to just move up and down, to undulate, rub me between her ass, to press back, and tense taut muscle around me as I suppress a groan that rumbles in my throat and makes Hannah's breath hitch.

"She likes you a lot, you know? It took me a while for her to admit it, but… she's going to enjoy this. You both are," Dragon whispers.

"And… you?" I manage to answer despite Hannah's body calling to me, despite the blood rushing in my ears, despite my muscles straining against Dragon's hold on me with my need to once again hold that thin waist, to pull her fully against me, to—

"Colin… Look," my best friend answers.

And a monitor is shoved in front of me, the angle precise enough not to obstruct my view of Hannah bent over my table, her ponytail fanning over lit glass that occasionally shines through her dark hair.

And Dragon is…

Her right hand is gently cradling her left breast, her thumb and pointer fingers slowly rolling a pert nipple back and forth as she deliberately drags the middle finger of her left hand up and down along the barely noticeable indent in the middle of her belly, the thin gauze slowly riding higher and higher every time until creamy skin is revealed, until it's her bare body that she caresses and she closes her eyes as she lets out a low, almost keening moan.

It takes me embarrassingly too long to tear my eyes away, to not focus on her hands or Hannah's body pressing against me.

"That's… That's just your avatar. You're pretending to—"

An arm snakes around from behind me, catching my chin in a gentle, rubberized grip that is nonetheless firm enough to force me to watch her, to meet her brown eyes.

"Colin… I am my avatar," she whispers.

And Hannah stops moving.

"What?" I croak out, my throat tight and unwilling.

"I… My body is… I am augmenting myself. Making me strong enough to go outside, to be in the world once again, but… But it's taking years, and I've been just living like... Like this. Like an infomorph. You always joke about how we live on the Internet? I do. That's where I exist, Colin."

There's something in her eyes. Something that's not quite pain, but only because she's too used to it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I accuse her, immediately regretting it.

"Because… I didn't want to. Not until it was fixed. Until [I] was fixed."

And there's something in her eyes, something else. A promise.

"I don't think we should continue—" Hannah starts, straightening up, separating herself from me.

Which is kind of a relief, because I really feel uncomfortable about my erection not having flagged, at all, during this conversation.

Of course, it seems I'm not the only one whose arousal isn't incompatible with deep revelations, because a plethora of mechanical tentacles slide out from beneath my table and wrap around Hannah's wrists and ankles.

"I disagree," Dragon cheerfully says.

"Wha—why do you have [tentacles] in your lab, Colin? Why tentacles?!"

"They are… versatile? And get into hard-to-reach places?"

"That's not reassuring me! Not reassuring me at all!"

"Oh, relax," Dragon dismissively says, "I won't do anything you both don't want me to."

"That's not how consent works!" Hannah and I yell in tandem. Guess years in the field make us react in unison to perceived threats.

Dragon rolls her eyes. Guess years in the field allow [her] to discard ineffective threats.

"Very well… Hannah? Do you consent to Colin being inside you until you cum away years of frustration and bottled-up lust that the dense moron hasn't noticed causing in you?"

"I object to both the message and wording," I immediately reply.

"Did you ever think Hannah touched herself while thinking about you?" Dragon curiously asks.

"That was private!" Hannah yells. And then stops herself and blushes.

Given she's not the one being held aloft and naked in front of two women, I feel she's a bit entitled in allowing herself that much of an outburst. Really, how selfish of her to pretend to be the one being embarrassed just because her masturbatory habits are being openly discussed.

Also: what?

"I don't think I… Scratch that," I finally settle on, "I don't think. At all. There's absolutely nothing for me to comment here."

"You jerked off to her too, didn't you?" Dragon points out with an arched eyebrow that should never be paired with me catching hints of her erect nipples through shifting red fabric.

"I feel there's no answer to this question that won't worsen my current circumstances."

"That statement sounds weirdly self-fulfilling," Hannah grumbles.

"No, no, I don't think that's his last word on the subject," my traitorous friend comments.

Right before two very deft tentacles (seriously, she [has] to share those algorithms; they're never that precise when assisting me) slide up the sides of Hannah's legs and catch the hem of her dress, slowly, teasingly pulling it up as Hannah is lifted so her hips are in front of me right as black, shiny, wet satin is revealed between her slowly spreading thighs.

"So, Colin… Is she everything you imagined?" Dragon asks.

"No. She's so much better…" I unwittingly answer as I'm enveloped by orange blossoms and that spicy scent that's no longer just a hint.

…

Damn it.

"See? I told you," Dragon preens as Hannah blushes.

"I… I don't know if… [Really?"] the woman who's been allowed to cover her face with her hands and is embarrassedly peeking down at me asks.

I can only look up and swallow, trying to come up with the appropriate line, something that makes sense, that… I don't even know what I'm trying to achieve, so how am I supposed to decide the best way to achieve it?

Apparently, not by confusedly staring at Hannah. Because that only leaves Dragon more time to act.

In this case, by closing Hannah's thighs together and tortuously peeling her panties down, only a tuff of soft, black hair being revealed as anything further is hidden from my sight even as the scent grows stronger and makes my head swim.

"Ah…" Hannah says and then stops.

And her legs very, very slowly open to reveal the glistening inside of her thighs, to reveal shiny, wet, pink folds, to…

"Well?" Dragon whispers, once again from every speaker in the room, enveloping us with the sound of her voice as Hannah's thighs bend up and around my head as the tentacles lean her back so I get an uninterrupted view from her sex to her red face still covered by trembling fingers.

"I feel my only adequate answer would be: 'Stop! I can only get so erect!'" I drily comment.

Hannah blinks, and Dragon laughs.

"You—! You are the—the literal [worst]! How could you—" she gasps out between peals of laughter.

"You're laughing," I succinctly and appropriately point out.

"It's—it's the [shock]! You shouldn't be—how do you even [know—"]

"I live on the internet," I helpfully remind her.

"Well, I don't," Hannah grumbles, "and I would really like to know what's so funny about you getting a faceful of my pussy."

"I've not gotten—" I try to argue.

"Not yet. Dragon?" she states as she glares down at me.

"Right away!" the cheerful voice of our captor replies.

And then I…

Well, I guess Hannah described it best.

"Ah! Ah, not so fast, Dragon!"

"Sorry! I… I'm not used to this… Just tell me how you want things to go?"

I can imagine the expressions the both of them are wearing, having known the two women for what is increasingly seeming like far too long. But I don't see them.

Instead, I only see tan flesh, soft curly hair, and wet folds.

And…

This is confusing, bewildering, and altogether something that would've benefitted from further discussion.

It is also the first time in years I've been with a beautiful, wet, eager woman.

So I lean forward, kiss the inside of her thigh, and lick up her outer labia until I reach her clitoris.

"Fuck—!"

"Is he…?"

"That beard! I always thought it would tickle, but he's so—ah!"

…

I take very good care of my beard.

Otherwise, it gets itchy.

So I make sure to rub my cheeks on her trembling thighs, to lazily kiss them every time I draw back only to dive forward once again, to catch her lips between my own and pull on them before letting them go and trace them once again with my tongue, lapping up her juices, tasting her, learning how her scent and her juices differ.

I'm suddenly quite hungry. And thirsty.

And horny.

Yeah. That too.

So I remember the pages of [another] notebook, one I managed to fill through my college years, and then inflict each and everything I learned on Hannah even as Dragon allows her to lower her arms and grab my hair to pull me toward her as she keeps muttering my name over and over, her body bent over me, her thighs resting on my shoulders, her breath rushing down my back whenever I make her gasp, and her covered breasts pressing down on the top of my head.

And then I catch her clitoris between my lips, suck on it, circle it with the pointed tip of my tongue, and Hannah swears as her body goes rigid and—

And she's lifted away.

"Wha—noooo! I was so close! I was so close to finally coming all over that stupidly chiseled jawline of his! Dragon, let me—aaaah!"

The tentacles spread Hannah's body in front of me as her dress is taken away, as I discover just why I felt her chest so soft and inviting whenever she pressed it on me throughout the date. Because Hannah wasn't wearing a bra… And now she isn't wearing anything.

It's making me question my earlier assertion.

It seems that I can, in fact, get a bit more erect.

I fear thrombosis may be in the near future.

"Dragon, Dragon, why…" Hannah whines.

And then the tips of the mechanical tentacles trace her outline, the sides of her body, of her thighs, her breasts.

Her round, firm, soft breasts that show the barest indent at the slight touch Dragon is subjecting her to.

Damn it. Even more erect.

"That's not what you've fantasized about, is it?" Dragon whispers, her self on the screens now completely naked, grasping and lifting her right breast as she almost idly plays between her legs.

"What do you meaaan!" Hannah lets out as two very deft manipulators meant for precision work spread her lips open once again, presenting her to me.

"I mean… That you always look at his muscles, at how he moves, how he fights… You want him to take you, don't you?"

Hannah's mouth closes and she, yet again, covers her flushed face with her hands.

She would look far more bashful if I couldn't see her sex opening and closing, almost twitching as drops of moisture drip down her lips.

And that silence… is answer enough.

It also serves to illustrate, yet again, how inadequate my earlier wording was.

I [definitely] can get as erect as they damn well please.

Dragon closes her eyes, bites her lip, pinches her nipple. Throws her head back and moans.

And Hannah is spun in the air, swiftly yet delicately guided to her earlier position, her hands instinctively gripping the edge of my table.

And Dragon lets me go.

I look at her, at the monitor she keeps close to my face, always showing me her actions, her expression, her gestures.

Always showing me what I thought was an avatar tailored to interface with the world and now I realize is, in a very real sense, Dragon.

She smiles. Softly, warmly, caring.

And turns aside, not getting between Hannah and I, but remaining close to me.

I look between the two women, Hannah facing forward as her knees tremble while the tentacles keep tracing the hollows and lines of her taut body, and Dragon…

Dragon just looks at the two of us.

I close my eyes, not letting the scent of orange blossoms and spice muddle my thoughts further than they already have, and I whisper a curt, inadequate line.

"I love you."

Directional speakers that focus waves on a single point in space through laser pulses whir from two corners of my lab I recognize.

They are meant for precision direction of ultrasounds, to focus bursts of energy on very specific points of my creations. To shear away unwanted particles, sublimate paint, engrave patterns on metamaterials, adjust nanomachinery…

They are used, this time, to answer me without Hannah hearing it.

"I love you too," she says, and my heart soars as she finally admits it. Out loud and explicitly.

"I like her," she then adds, "a lot."

And a robotic arm pushes me forward, but not hard enough that I stumble.

I can step to Hannah.

I can back off.

And…

And I like her. A lot.

So I walk toward her, the faintly ridiculous sensation of my penis waving in front of me not managing to distract me from the way Hannah squirms, from how her earlier, deliberate sensuality has been turned into needy, almost frantic desire.

Dragon smiles at me, her fingers slowly sinking between her legs as her lips tremble.

And I, once again, surround Hannah's waist with my fingers.

"Co—Colin, are you really…" she asks, her voice trembling.

I bend down, kiss the side of her neck, a spot behind her ear, her jawline, her lips.

And I press forward, the tip of my cock meeting wet, searing heat for the first time in far too long.

"Tell me you want this," I growl at her.

"I… What?"

"Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me inside of you. Or I will stop." It's not a threat, just me making sure, still not quite believing she would want to be with me like this, that she would find me attractive, desirable. Worthy.

It's not a threat. But I can't stop myself from making it sound like one.

"Do it. Fuck me. Push your cock inside me, ram it to your base, make me come over, and over, and over—take me! Take all of me!"

Her voice starts as something almost incredulous, then briefly becomes a seductive purr.

And then…

Then I see red as I allow orange blossoms and spice to overwhelm me, my fingers dig into her flesh, and I pull her to me as I drive myself forward.

And she screams.

"Fuck her," Dragon breathily demands, the wet sound coming from the speakers to accompany her words a clear indication of what she thinks about what she's watching.

And I… obey.

I drag myself out of Hannah's clenching, twitching grasp in a slow, long stroke that has me look down to see my shaft glistening with her juices. I briefly peek at Dragon, and she's staring at it, at where I enter Hannah, and her cheeks are flushed, her lips open, and her fingers rougher than before.

It takes everything I have not to smirk at them.

It doesn't take nearly as much to drive myself forward until my flesh crashes against Hannah.

"Ah! Close! I'm close!" she yells, apparently still on edge from my earlier ministrations and Dragon having kept her on edge.

"Not for long," I grunt.

And then I fuck her.

I push in and out, rougher than before, her back arching and falling beneath me, her ponytail tempting me until I finally grasp it, pulling back on it, making her bend her neck back as I pound against her, as I push her steadily toward her climax, until—

"Colin! Yes!" she screams.

And she seizes up, her whole body shuddering as I manage to slow down, to grind rather than thrust, to accompany her through her orgasm without worsening it by being too intense, but still stimulating her, my hands wandering over her back in calming caresses as the spasms slow down steadily.

Until she slumps forward, lifeless, spent.

And I hiss as I take my cock out of her, unfulfilled lust making me very reticent to just stop and let her bask in the afterglow.

"Hannah…" Dragon's rough voice mutters, making the naked, sweaty woman in front of me barely lift her face off glass I'll need to thoroughly clean before doing any work on it.

"Hn…?" she intelligently answers.

"Colin hasn't… Finished yet."

"Fffff…"

"What?"

"Fuck me… Fuck me as much as you… want…" she drowsily asks.

Huh. Weird. I wonder when I grasped Hannah's waist again.

"Ffffuck!" she comments, not offering me further clarification on the subject.

Nor on when I shoved my cock inside her.

How uncooperative, Hannah.

I guess I'll have to discipline you.

"Do… Do me… More…"

Or reward you. One of those two.

Whichever it is, I don't think I—no. I just don't think.

Because her scent already drove me mad, but her touch? The feeling of her flesh on my fingers, the grasp of her sex on mine?

That's just…

"Do it. She wants you to," Dragon whispers.

And I, once again, follow her lead.

And fuck Hannah.

I don't stop when she trembles, when she shivers.

I keep going when she screams, when she begs, either for a pause or for more.

I keep going as I feel the rush of blood deafening me to the point I can see her mouth move in front of me, the side of her face smushed against lit glass as her eyes roll back. As I watch her speak without hearing a single word.

I don't stop as I feel robotic manipulators that were never meant for a delicate touch roam my back, as I see three monitors with Dragon lewdly pleasing herself surround Hannah, as the tentacles that never stopped holding the tanned woman start tracing her body yet again, adding something gentle that I cannot give her at the moment, not after she's allowed me to be as lustful as I want on her.

After she's given me permission.

Asked me.

Begged me.

And it's been years. It's been years since I allowed myself to be with a woman, and I just…

I never dreamed it would be with a woman like her.

So I drive myself forward a last time, and I come inside her, the rush of mind-blanking ecstasy just letting me catch brief, intermittent glimpses of Hannah arching her back until she lifts her body entirely off my table, until her screams are loud enough to pierce the roaring of my blood.

And then, barely feeling the wet warmth I just released inside her, I slump on top of her.

It… takes me a while to open my eyes, and when I do, I discover I am hugging Hannah to me, her eyes closed, and her lips turned into a dopey smile the image department would kill to get a photo of.

Over my cold, dead body.

Speaking of… While I do have a foldable cot in my workshop for the (not so) occasional all-nighter, I don't remember ever getting an inflatable mattress.

Nor a warm, soft, down duvet in my distinct cobalt blue.

Nor a pillow that feels indecently luxurious.

Most of all, I don't remember setting the whole thing up, getting Hannah inside, and wrapping my arms around her.

I blink, trying to focus, and I see a monitor behind Hannah's head, with Dragon's avatar… With Dragon looking at me with a soft, warm, satisfied smile.

"I…" I softly start to say, wary of waking Hannah up.

"Shush," the directed sound in my ear stops me. "She's… kinda exhausted. I think it was quite intense for her."

I look at her, almost sadly noticing she's now wearing a plush, white bathrobe, and I force an obvious question through my eyes.

And she sighs.

"Colin, I can honestly tell you this was the best sexual experience of my life."

I arch an eyebrow, she rolls her eyes.

"Yes, really. I'm not exaggerating. I just… I care for intimacy, a lot, but I don't need to be there for it."

I… I'm not sure whether to believe her, but this isn't a conversation I can hold silently, and Hannah is nuzzling her face against me and letting out happy sighs that make something in my chest I didn't know I still had clench.

And Dragon smiles, a hint of impishness on it.

"She really liked it when you took charge, you know?"

I raise an inquiring eyebrow.

She winks.

And then, a robotic arm holding something that gleams in green strobes of light peeks above the monitor.

Hannah's power.

Her weapon.

A riding crop.

…

I am going to tease her mercilessly as soon as she wakes up.

Wake-up Call – Chapter 40 – Armed and Mastered – Part 5

Hannah's waist feels small between my hands.

She is driving slowly, my bike smoothly obeying her as she takes us along the seaside street. The breeze from the ocean is constantly cool on my exposed face, yet it doesn't always stop me from being enveloped in orange blossoms and that uniquely Hannah scent of hers that keeps drifting to me from the fanning hair that spreads from below the edge of her borrowed helmet.

And I was stupid enough not to wear my gloves, to just lay my bare hands on top of her leather jacket, and I keep feeling its texture, keep noticing how much thinner it is than I expected, how her tight muscle shifts beneath it, beneath her dress, beneath my touch. How she tightens and relaxes at each winding curve of the nearly deserted street.

And that would be bad enough, but then comes my imagination.

Because it's been too long since I was with a woman, much less one I found as attractive as she is, and so I can't stop myself from thinking about how her body would shift as I held her above me, as she writhed in…

I blame the alcohol.

Really, almost half a bottle of red just for me? After years without touching the stuff? What was I thinking?

Other than how much I was enjoying my evening out with my friend, who's also a beautiful woman that I am attracted to, who outright told me she likes me and kept offering me signs of physical affection.

Yes, I certainly don't understand why I may have gotten carried away. There's absolutely no reason at all.

"Colin?" she says, turning to me after gently stopping at the red light, her voice carrying over the low purr of the engine vibrating beneath us.

"Yes?" I answer, leaning forward so she can… hear me better.

And so I can feel a brief touch of her back on my chest.

Damn it.

"You can… hold me tighter," she says, turning away right before she finishes the line.

And then she takes my hand off her waist and pulls on my arm so I hug her to me.

My breath hitches, and I freeze.

Then the light switches to green, Hannah drives forward, and I…

I hug her with both arms.

***

"I want to see your lab," she says after a few seconds of silence go by, only punctuated by the shifting hum of the spacious elevator that goes from the subaquatic garage of the Rig to the living quarters.

"I… you've been there plenty of times," I tell her, stupidly, yet again reminding myself how long it's been since my last date and how out of practice I am in interpreting hints, even ones as obvious as this.

"Colin…" she admonishes me, her tone curt, her eyes looking up at me even as her head looks down.

I swallow, uncertain, and I look at the buttons on the side of the elevator.

And then I push the one to my lab's floor.

***

"Here it is, as sterile as ever," I say as I open the door.

"Well, that's one way to describe it," she ruefully comments as she walks past me and into my workspace, her hips swaying as she walks with one foot in front of the other.

Her jacket is short, stopping a little below her waist, and so I can see those hips of hers move from side to side, I can see how tightly her black dress stretches across her curves, I can see…

How she's starting to turn toward me, so I swiftly raise my eyes before this becomes too incriminating.

"Well? What have you been working on?" she asks me with a broad smile nearly no one ever puts on when they are forced to inquire about my work.

So…

I step inside my workshop and walk to the computerized table currently set in the middle of it.

"This," I say as I turn on the holographic displays that blaze into being with blue fulgor, "is my current set of upgrades for an anti-Behemoth vehicle."

The resulting bike is still recognizable as my own, the color scheme unchanged from my distinct cobalt blue and silver and the profile mostly the same for aerodynamic reasons that I solved a long time ago.

It's still bulkier, the extra space an unfortunate requirement for the extra shielding of the components that can't be adequately addressed just with a change in materials. Not that I don't make extensive use of metamaterial properties, but the monster's kill aura and dynakinesis are overwhelming enough that I just know that won't ever be enough.

I don't know what will be enough.

"I want one," Hannah chimes in as soon as she's taken the displayed specs in.

"Tinker equipment—"

"Then you're carrying me."

"Hannah… putting two high-value targets like ourselves in the same position—"

She steps up, presses against me, her black dress once again rubbing against me because of her open jacket, and she kisses me.

Her lips are soft, and they carry some of that spice her scent assaults me with. Her hands run through my cropped hair, pulling me down to her even as I feel her shift into her tiptoes, her whole body against mine, her warmth so much more soothing than I thought it would be, her softness something I crave, something I—

"Together. We'll face death together," she says, eyes blazing, lips thinned into a tense line.

I stare at her, unable to do anything but. Unable to even think about what this young woman actually feels to so fiercely proclaim such a thing.

And I… I think I understand.

Because it's hopeless. It's a losing battle, a holding pattern until the next inevitable defeat. Because we both have seen comrades die. We have looked where an errant wave has passed, leaving nothing behind to remember those taken by black waters; we have listened to Dragon's dispassionate voice warning someone about the bomb about to go off if they didn't get away from the song that would turn them against us; we have witnessed lightning sweeping across a battleline, leaving only charred meat behind.

We know every time can be the last.

And we still go.

We still fight.

"We will," I tell her, my hands once more around her thin waist, this time below the black leather and over soft, stretched fabric that pours the warmth underneath into me.

Her hands pull my neck down, and she kisses me once again, her tongue rushing in to meet mine.

Dragon was right: I did write a notebook.

I'm not… an intuitive person. I learn by studying, practicing, analyzing.

And my first kiss was a disaster of clicking teeth, bumping noses, and bruised lips.

But I studied, I practiced, I analyzed.

And now I slowly drag my tongue along Hannah's own, inviting her further inside me before I close my lips around her, suck in, feel her arms tense around me, and then I push forward, licking along her palate, her tongue, my fingers tightening around her toned sides, pulling her to me, taking half a step forward as I lean down over her, bending her back as her right leg lifts once again, not to suggestively dismount my bike, but to circle around me, pulling me even closer to her, feeling the increasingly tight front of my jeans push against her.

She moans into my mouth, and I almost cheer. One more point for the notebook.

"Colin…" she whispers, her breath ragged against my wet lips, her eyes wide. "I didn't think you would be… you know…"

"I don't know whether to feel insulted or flattered," I wryly reply.

"Flattered. Definitely flattered," she says, her lips softening into a smile that makes my heart roar faster.

Then her right hand, so small for all the power she wields, lies in the middle of my chest and pushes me back.

Right into a tangle of robotic limbs that I haven't activated.

"Wha—"

"Hello, Colin. Did you think about what we talked about before?" Dragon's soft voice whispers from all over my workshop.

Hannah looks at me in bashful apology, and three monitors unfold from the ceiling, all of them displaying the same woman.

The same sheer-red-negligee-wearing woman.

"What are you—"

"Hannah and I… Talked. For quite a while. We hit it off a while ago after you dragged us into your parenting issues—"

"For the last time: Lisa is not my daughter—"

"Biology only gets you so far," Hannah mutters.

I glare at her.

She has the decency to scratch the underside of her jaw as she turns to the side.

"Being a deadbeat is very unattractive," Dragon chides with a smile that always does things to me, and she's usually wearing [regular] clothes[.]

Really, her pale, freckled skin, her petite bust, her thin shoulders, the start of a very trim belly hinted through barely-there cloth… I'm not sober enough to handle this.

"Dragon—"

"No. Listen," she harshly interrupts, something in her eyes hard enough I can only obey. "I… I told you I was open to Hannah and you… To Hannah and you. And I told Hannah the same thing. And… And she's a selfless, generous heroine, so she told me she didn't want to mess with what you and I have been dancing around for years, but… But I want her to. I want her to give you everything I haven't given you yet. I want you to be happy, as happy as I can't make you, and I—"

She's distraught, her avatar once more desynching, and…

And it looks like it's my turn to cut her off.

"Dragon, no. This… It isn't about you. It's not about anything that you have or haven't done; it can't be that. It would be indecent if it was about that. You… I… I love you, Dragon. Just as you are. And if that means—"

Hannah kisses me.

I feel like I should be complaining about the two women not letting me speak, but really, I can't find it in myself to do so.

How mysterious.

"You're noble. And brave. And loyal. And stupidly, distractingly hot. And you've been in love with her for years, and I keep thinking about you despite that, and… And I agree: this isn't about making up for anything. It can't be that. But… But you like me. And she's okay with that."

Her eyes plead up to me, asking me to answer in the way she expects and that I don't understand.

"But… How can we be sure? How can we know this isn't hurting Dra—"

Two robotic arms delicately come between Hannah and me. And then rip my shirt apart.

"… I don't have that many of those, you know?" I feel it only fair to comment.

"I'll buy you however many you want; just let me enjoy the eye candy," Dragon lasciviously says, her tripled avatar slowly dragging the back of her hand down the side of her right breast.

"Please don't try to circumvent the conversation by making me too horny to speak," I plead.

She chuckles, and something in Hannah's shoulders relaxes.

"Oh? Do you mean it's working, [Colin?]" the voice that's whispered in my ear for hundreds of hours purrs.

In a way I haven't heard from her before.

And…

"I am starting to feel upstaged," Hannah mutters.

And then she steps back, once more exaggeratedly swaying her hips until she bumps into my table and the blazing blue lines of hologram designs frame her silhouette.

One of Dragon's monitors is attentively turning, following her every step of the way, and Hannah spares a quick, almost bashful smile to her before she shrugs, letting her jacket slide down her arms until it's only held by the elastic on her wrists. Then she twirls in place, turning her back to me, the jacket acting like a thick sarong that hides her backside as she swings her arms left and right, teasing me with the way shiny black leather sticks to her shape until she shoots me an inquiring look over her shoulder that soon turns mischievous as she finally takes her left arm entirely off the sleeve and throws the jacket away to quietly impact against the brushed metal of my walls.

Then, keeping eye contact, her grin still firmly in place, she leans forward, her palms spreading flat over my metal and glass table until she grips the edges and her ass points straight up, the already succulent curve exaggerated by her arching back.

And she sways from side to side, drawing a slow, lazy, [maddening] eight with her body.

I just stare at her, not even able to look back into her eyes once she gets going, once she [dances], showing off just how she has toned her body to perfection, how her dress may be purposefully loose on her chest, yet is anything but below her waist.

I only have enough willpower to briefly glance at her legs, and that's just to check that they are, in fact, as mesmerizing as when I caught brief, furtive glimpses of them while driving her to our date.

And, after I don't know how long of this, robotic arms that hold my arms, legs, and hips lift me with an electric whine and push me forward.

"Dragon, I think we should talk about this—" I protest as I catch Hannah smiling broadly and invitingly.

"We will. I promise we will. But, for now, let me give you something to talk about," Dragon says.

And she takes my pants and boxers off with a deftness that makes me want to program a dressing routine in my lab.

Hannah, apparently, also appreciates the feat of engineering, because she's now biting her lip as she looks at…

At the product of said feat of engineering. Yes. Definitely. That's what catches her interest.

And when Dragon pushes me forward once again, my body entirely lifted off the ground as a few nimble arms work off my shoes and socks, Hannah arches her back further, and I seamlessly slide between her firm cheeks.

The eight narrows, bouncing my erection from side to side before she decides to just move up and down, to undulate, rub me between her ass, to press back, and tense taut muscle around me as I suppress a groan that rumbles in my throat and makes Hannah's breath hitch.

"She likes you a lot, you know? It took me a while for her to admit it, but… she's going to enjoy this. You both are," Dragon whispers.

"And… you?" I manage to answer despite Hannah's body calling to me, despite the blood rushing in my ears, despite my muscles straining against Dragon's hold on me with my need to once again hold that thin waist, to pull her fully against me, to—

"Colin… Look," my best friend answers.

And a monitor is shoved in front of me, the angle precise enough not to obstruct my view of Hannah bent over my table, her ponytail fanning over lit glass that occasionally shines through her dark hair.

And Dragon is…

Her right hand is gently cradling her left breast, her thumb and pointer fingers slowly rolling a pert nipple back and forth as she deliberately drags the middle finger of her left hand up and down along the barely noticeable indent in the middle of her belly, the thin gauze slowly riding higher and higher every time until creamy skin is revealed, until it's her bare body that she caresses and she closes her eyes as she lets out a low, almost keening moan.

It takes me embarrassingly too long to tear my eyes away, to not focus on her hands or Hannah's body pressing against me.

"That's… That's just your avatar. You're pretending to—"

An arm snakes around from behind me, catching my chin in a gentle, rubberized grip that is nonetheless firm enough to force me to watch her, to meet her brown eyes.

"Colin… I am my avatar," she whispers.

And Hannah stops moving.

"What?" I croak out, my throat tight and unwilling.

"I… My body is… I am augmenting myself. Making me strong enough to go outside, to be in the world once again, but… But it's taking years, and I've been just living like... Like this. Like an infomorph. You always joke about how we live on the Internet? I do. That's where I exist, Colin."

There's something in her eyes. Something that's not quite pain, but only because she's too used to it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I accuse her, immediately regretting it.

"Because… I didn't want to. Not until it was fixed. Until [I] was fixed."

And there's something in her eyes, something else. A promise.

"I don't think we should continue—" Hannah starts, straightening up, separating herself from me.

Which is kind of a relief, because I really feel uncomfortable about my erection not having flagged, at all, during this conversation.

Of course, it seems I'm not the only one whose arousal isn't incompatible with deep revelations, because a plethora of mechanical tentacles slide out from beneath my table and wrap around Hannah's wrists and ankles.

"I disagree," Dragon cheerfully says.

"Wha—why do you have [tentacles] in your lab, Colin? Why tentacles?!"

"They are… versatile? And get into hard-to-reach places?"

"That's not reassuring me! Not reassuring me at all!"

"Oh, relax," Dragon dismissively says, "I won't do anything you both don't want me to."

"That's not how consent works!" Hannah and I yell in tandem. Guess years in the field make us react in unison to perceived threats.

Dragon rolls her eyes. Guess years in the field allow [her] to discard ineffective threats.

"Very well… Hannah? Do you consent to Colin being inside you until you cum away years of frustration and bottled-up lust that the dense moron hasn't noticed causing in you?"

"I object to both the message and wording," I immediately reply.

"Did you ever think Hannah touched herself while thinking about you?" Dragon curiously asks.

"That was private!" Hannah yells. And then stops herself and blushes.

Given she's not the one being held aloft and naked in front of two women, I feel she's a bit entitled in allowing herself that much of an outburst. Really, how selfish of her to pretend to be the one being embarrassed just because her masturbatory habits are being openly discussed.

Also: what?

"I don't think I… Scratch that," I finally settle on, "I don't think. At all. There's absolutely nothing for me to comment here."

"You jerked off to her too, didn't you?" Dragon points out with an arched eyebrow that should never be paired with me catching hints of her erect nipples through shifting red fabric.

"I feel there's no answer to this question that won't worsen my current circumstances."

"That statement sounds weirdly self-fulfilling," Hannah grumbles.

"No, no, I don't think that's his last word on the subject," my traitorous friend comments.

Right before two very deft tentacles (seriously, she [has] to share those algorithms; they're never that precise when assisting me) slide up the sides of Hannah's legs and catch the hem of her dress, slowly, teasingly pulling it up as Hannah is lifted so her hips are in front of me right as black, shiny, wet satin is revealed between her slowly spreading thighs.

"So, Colin… Is she everything you imagined?" Dragon asks.

"No. She's so much better…" I unwittingly answer as I'm enveloped by orange blossoms and that spicy scent that's no longer just a hint.

…

Damn it.

"See? I told you," Dragon preens as Hannah blushes.

"I… I don't know if… [Really?"] the woman who's been allowed to cover her face with her hands and is embarrassedly peeking down at me asks.

I can only look up and swallow, trying to come up with the appropriate line, something that makes sense, that… I don't even know what I'm trying to achieve, so how am I supposed to decide the best way to achieve it?

Apparently, not by confusedly staring at Hannah. Because that only leaves Dragon more time to act.

In this case, by closing Hannah's thighs together and tortuously peeling her panties down, only a tuff of soft, black hair being revealed as anything further is hidden from my sight even as the scent grows stronger and makes my head swim.

"Ah…" Hannah says and then stops.

And her legs very, very slowly open to reveal the glistening inside of her thighs, to reveal shiny, wet, pink folds, to…

"Well?" Dragon whispers, once again from every speaker in the room, enveloping us with the sound of her voice as Hannah's thighs bend up and around my head as the tentacles lean her back so I get an uninterrupted view from her sex to her red face still covered by trembling fingers.

"I feel my only adequate answer would be: 'Stop! I can only get so erect!'" I drily comment.

Hannah blinks, and Dragon laughs.

"You—! You are the—the literal [worst]! How could you—" she gasps out between peals of laughter.

"You're laughing," I succinctly and appropriately point out.

"It's—it's the [shock]! You shouldn't be—how do you even [know—"]

"I live on the internet," I helpfully remind her.

"Well, I don't," Hannah grumbles, "and I would really like to know what's so funny about you getting a faceful of my pussy."

"I've not gotten—" I try to argue.

"Not yet. Dragon?" she states as she glares down at me.

"Right away!" the cheerful voice of our captor replies.

And then I…

Well, I guess Hannah described it best.

"Ah! Ah, not so fast, Dragon!"

"Sorry! I… I'm not used to this… Just tell me how you want things to go?"

I can imagine the expressions the both of them are wearing, having known the two women for what is increasingly seeming like far too long. But I don't see them.

Instead, I only see tan flesh, soft curly hair, and wet folds.

And…

This is confusing, bewildering, and altogether something that would've benefitted from further discussion.

It is also the first time in years I've been with a beautiful, wet, eager woman.

So I lean forward, kiss the inside of her thigh, and lick up her outer labia until I reach her clitoris.

"Fuck—!"

"Is he…?"

"That beard! I always thought it would tickle, but he's so—ah!"

…

I take very good care of my beard.

Otherwise, it gets itchy.

So I make sure to rub my cheeks on her trembling thighs, to lazily kiss them every time I draw back only to dive forward once again, to catch her lips between my own and pull on them before letting them go and trace them once again with my tongue, lapping up her juices, tasting her, learning how her scent and her juices differ.

I'm suddenly quite hungry. And thirsty.

And horny.

Yeah. That too.

So I remember the pages of [another] notebook, one I managed to fill through my college years, and then inflict each and everything I learned on Hannah even as Dragon allows her to lower her arms and grab my hair to pull me toward her as she keeps muttering my name over and over, her body bent over me, her thighs resting on my shoulders, her breath rushing down my back whenever I make her gasp, and her covered breasts pressing down on the top of my head.

And then I catch her clitoris between my lips, suck on it, circle it with the pointed tip of my tongue, and Hannah swears as her body goes rigid and—

And she's lifted away.

"Wha—noooo! I was so close! I was so close to finally coming all over that stupidly chiseled jawline of his! Dragon, let me—aaaah!"

The tentacles spread Hannah's body in front of me as her dress is taken away, as I discover just why I felt her chest so soft and inviting whenever she pressed it on me throughout the date. Because Hannah wasn't wearing a bra… And now she isn't wearing anything.

It's making me question my earlier assertion.

It seems that I can, in fact, get a bit more erect.

I fear thrombosis may be in the near future.

"Dragon, Dragon, why…" Hannah whines.

And then the tips of the mechanical tentacles trace her outline, the sides of her body, of her thighs, her breasts.

Her round, firm, soft breasts that show the barest indent at the slight touch Dragon is subjecting her to.

Damn it. Even more erect.

"That's not what you've fantasized about, is it?" Dragon whispers, her self on the screens now completely naked, grasping and lifting her right breast as she almost idly plays between her legs.

"What do you meaaan!" Hannah lets out as two very deft manipulators meant for precision work spread her lips open once again, presenting her to me.

"I mean… That you always look at his muscles, at how he moves, how he fights… You want him to take you, don't you?"

Hannah's mouth closes and she, yet again, covers her flushed face with her hands.

She would look far more bashful if I couldn't see her sex opening and closing, almost twitching as drops of moisture drip down her lips.

And that silence… is answer enough.

It also serves to illustrate, yet again, how inadequate my earlier wording was.

I [definitely] can get as erect as they damn well please.

Dragon closes her eyes, bites her lip, pinches her nipple. Throws her head back and moans.

And Hannah is spun in the air, swiftly yet delicately guided to her earlier position, her hands instinctively gripping the edge of my table.

And Dragon lets me go.

I look at her, at the monitor she keeps close to my face, always showing me her actions, her expression, her gestures.

Always showing me what I thought was an avatar tailored to interface with the world and now I realize is, in a very real sense, Dragon.

She smiles. Softly, warmly, caring.

And turns aside, not getting between Hannah and I, but remaining close to me.

I look between the two women, Hannah facing forward as her knees tremble while the tentacles keep tracing the hollows and lines of her taut body, and Dragon…

Dragon just looks at the two of us.

I close my eyes, not letting the scent of orange blossoms and spice muddle my thoughts further than they already have, and I whisper a curt, inadequate line.

"I love you."

Directional speakers that focus waves on a single point in space through laser pulses whir from two corners of my lab I recognize.

They are meant for precision direction of ultrasounds, to focus bursts of energy on very specific points of my creations. To shear away unwanted particles, sublimate paint, engrave patterns on metamaterials, adjust nanomachinery…

They are used, this time, to answer me without Hannah hearing it.

"I love you too," she says, and my heart soars as she finally admits it. Out loud and explicitly.

"I like her," she then adds, "a lot."

And a robotic arm pushes me forward, but not hard enough that I stumble.

I can step to Hannah.

I can back off.

And…

And I like her. A lot.

So I walk toward her, the faintly ridiculous sensation of my penis waving in front of me not managing to distract me from the way Hannah squirms, from how her earlier, deliberate sensuality has been turned into needy, almost frantic desire.

Dragon smiles at me, her fingers slowly sinking between her legs as her lips tremble.

And I, once again, surround Hannah's waist with my fingers.

"Co—Colin, are you really…" she asks, her voice trembling.

I bend down, kiss the side of her neck, a spot behind her ear, her jawline, her lips.

And I press forward, the tip of my cock meeting wet, searing heat for the first time in far too long.

"Tell me you want this," I growl at her.

"I… What?"

"Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me inside of you. Or I will stop." It's not a threat, just me making sure, still not quite believing she would want to be with me like this, that she would find me attractive, desirable. Worthy.

It's not a threat. But I can't stop myself from making it sound like one.

"Do it. Fuck me. Push your cock inside me, ram it to your base, make me come over, and over, and over—take me! Take all of me!"

Her voice starts as something almost incredulous, then briefly becomes a seductive purr.

And then…

Then I see red as I allow orange blossoms and spice to overwhelm me, my fingers dig into her flesh, and I pull her to me as I drive myself forward.

And she screams.

"Fuck her," Dragon breathily demands, the wet sound coming from the speakers to accompany her words a clear indication of what she thinks about what she's watching.

And I… obey.

I drag myself out of Hannah's clenching, twitching grasp in a slow, long stroke that has me look down to see my shaft glistening with her juices. I briefly peek at Dragon, and she's staring at it, at where I enter Hannah, and her cheeks are flushed, her lips open, and her fingers rougher than before.

It takes everything I have not to smirk at them.

It doesn't take nearly as much to drive myself forward until my flesh crashes against Hannah.

"Ah! Close! I'm close!" she yells, apparently still on edge from my earlier ministrations and Dragon having kept her on edge.

"Not for long," I grunt.

And then I fuck her.

I push in and out, rougher than before, her back arching and falling beneath me, her ponytail tempting me until I finally grasp it, pulling back on it, making her bend her neck back as I pound against her, as I push her steadily toward her climax, until—

"Colin! Yes!" she screams.

And she seizes up, her whole body shuddering as I manage to slow down, to grind rather than thrust, to accompany her through her orgasm without worsening it by being too intense, but still stimulating her, my hands wandering over her back in calming caresses as the spasms slow down steadily.

Until she slumps forward, lifeless, spent.

And I hiss as I take my cock out of her, unfulfilled lust making me very reticent to just stop and let her bask in the afterglow.

"Hannah…" Dragon's rough voice mutters, making the naked, sweaty woman in front of me barely lift her face off glass I'll need to thoroughly clean before doing any work on it.

"Hn…?" she intelligently answers.

"Colin hasn't… Finished yet."

"Fffff…"

"What?"

"Fuck me… Fuck me as much as you… want…" she drowsily asks.

Huh. Weird. I wonder when I grasped Hannah's waist again.

"Ffffuck!" she comments, not offering me further clarification on the subject.

Nor on when I shoved my cock inside her.

How uncooperative, Hannah.

I guess I'll have to discipline you.

"Do… Do me… More…"

Or reward you. One of those two.

Whichever it is, I don't think I—no. I just don't think.

Because her scent already drove me mad, but her touch? The feeling of her flesh on my fingers, the grasp of her sex on mine?

That's just…

"Do it. She wants you to," Dragon whispers.

And I, once again, follow her lead.

And fuck Hannah.

I don't stop when she trembles, when she shivers.

I keep going when she screams, when she begs, either for a pause or for more.

I keep going as I feel the rush of blood deafening me to the point I can see her mouth move in front of me, the side of her face smushed against lit glass as her eyes roll back. As I watch her speak without hearing a single word.

I don't stop as I feel robotic manipulators that were never meant for a delicate touch roam my back, as I see three monitors with Dragon lewdly pleasing herself surround Hannah, as the tentacles that never stopped holding the tanned woman start tracing her body yet again, adding something gentle that I cannot give her at the moment, not after she's allowed me to be as lustful as I want on her.

After she's given me permission.

Asked me.

Begged me.

And it's been years. It's been years since I allowed myself to be with a woman, and I just…

I never dreamed it would be with a woman like her.

So I drive myself forward a last time, and I come inside her, the rush of mind-blanking ecstasy just letting me catch brief, intermittent glimpses of Hannah arching her back until she lifts her body entirely off my table, until her screams are loud enough to pierce the roaring of my blood.

And then, barely feeling the wet warmth I just released inside her, I slump on top of her.

It… takes me a while to open my eyes, and when I do, I discover I am hugging Hannah to me, her eyes closed, and her lips turned into a dopey smile the image department would kill to get a photo of.

Over my cold, dead body.

Speaking of… While I do have a foldable cot in my workshop for the (not so) occasional all-nighter, I don't remember ever getting an inflatable mattress.

Nor a warm, soft, down duvet in my distinct cobalt blue.

Nor a pillow that feels indecently luxurious.

Most of all, I don't remember setting the whole thing up, getting Hannah inside, and wrapping my arms around her.

I blink, trying to focus, and I see a monitor behind Hannah's head, with Dragon's avatar… With Dragon looking at me with a soft, warm, satisfied smile.

"I…" I softly start to say, wary of waking Hannah up.

"Shush," the directed sound in my ear stops me. "She's… kinda exhausted. I think it was quite intense for her."

I look at her, almost sadly noticing she's now wearing a plush, white bathrobe, and I force an obvious question through my eyes.

And she sighs.

"Colin, I can honestly tell you this was the best sexual experience of my life."

I arch an eyebrow, she rolls her eyes.

"Yes, really. I'm not exaggerating. I just… I care for intimacy, a lot, but I don't need to be there for it."

I… I'm not sure whether to believe her, but this isn't a conversation I can hold silently, and Hannah is nuzzling her face against me and letting out happy sighs that make something in my chest I didn't know I still had clench.

And Dragon smiles, a hint of impishness on it.

"She really liked it when you took charge, you know?"

I raise an inquiring eyebrow.

She winks.

And then, a robotic arm holding something that gleams in green strobes of light peeks above the monitor.

Hannah's power.

Her weapon.

A riding crop.

…

I am going to tease her mercilessly as soon as she wakes up.

==================

This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 85 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).

Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance

Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!