callmenines | INBOX [DUPLICITY]

Her perceptions of humanity have shifted, but only somewhat. She's learned that some are better than others, that she likes some more than others. That she wants to spend her time with a small number more than she wants to share herself with the masses. It's been a slow realization, something of a shock if she's honest, to learn that rather than make herself available to all she would perhaps be happiest in the arms of the ones who need her most.

And who is that if not 9S? She knows she's done terribly by him until now and so when his hands tighten on her she lifts towards him rather than pull away. When he kisses her harder she makes a soft little sound for him, something so small and weak as her lips part to yield to him, let him in.

She didn't expect this side to him, for him to reach for more rather than be satisfied by what she offered, but she doesn't have the strength of will to tell him no. She won't hurt him any more than she already has, could never reject him. Her hands shift, carding through his hair, and she feels an odd stab of jealousy.

Where did he learn to kiss like this?

She's a fool if she didn't expect it. Just how blind has she been? He's always been there, even before this mess of a place, at her side, pining in his own way, ready to support her and come at her beck and call. It's 2B he needs, more than anyone else. There could be no one else left in the world and as long as he had her...he'd be fine. Humans were, again, creatures he craved approval from, but it's different. It's oh, so different. Everything is different when it comes to 2B.

Which is why he feels suddenly desperate when he hears the sound she makes. He drew that sound out of her and he wants more of it so badly. The kiss deepens, teeth tugging lightly at her lower lip. He wants everything, wants to take and possess...but would she even want that? Does she even want him that much? A kiss is one thing but anything beyond that?

Self-doubt is a bitch but it's hard to shake and as he pulls back, breaking the kiss, he finds himself panting, venting hot air against her lips. He's trembling, ever so slightly, eyes closed as he presses their foreheads together. There's no sign of him letting go or moving. He'd rather die than do so.

He learned to kiss by kissing others, by going along with what he was supposed to do in this place. He'd rather have learnt how to kiss with her, to figure out all the small things that would make her squirm and sigh. It feels like a lost opportunity and yet...it's not like he could've asked her.

Not when she'd been so adamant on them tending to humans.

"I don't want to stop-"

He finds himself blurting it out, squeezing her just a bit tighter in desperation. He doesn't want her pity though, even if he feels utterly pitiful. He just wants her to want him, just as much as he does.

Putting thought into what 9S would be like in this kind of situation is something 2B has been sure not to do, but now? Now he surprises her with his teeth pulling at her lip, making her shiver under him agreeably as her own breathing picks up, a useless reaction to stimulus programmed by long dead humans who must have known they would never get the chance to feel like this. This need, this urge to touch and be touched that they had no outlet for until now, it's something that she can recognize as cruel.

She can recognize it but that doesn't mean she can fight it, so when he pulls away her head lifts to chase him, to try to catch his lips again before she realizes she's going against the rules she's already set for herself. Holding her breath, now, she lets her head fall back against the couch and gazes up at him, cheeks hot and eyes warm, fingers stroking with clear love through his hair.

Whoever he had been with is lucky, but he's hers now. Until they leave this room he belongs to only her.

"Nines..." she murmurs in surprise when he says what he does, eyes widened, because she can't imagine that being true. Why would he want her after what she's done to her body? She wants to argue and tell him he doesn't want her, that she's so different now, that he must think she's tainted, because that's what she honestly believes he thinks.

But he grabs at her again, hands so possessive, and she can't find the will to so much as shake her head. She will never, ever deny him.

"Are you sure?"

He's beyond sure.

"...You're the only one I really, really want."

The confession comes quietly as he finds something inside of him swelling at the sound of his nickname on her lips. If he could play it on repeat he would; every time she gives in and gives him what he wants he can't help but worry it'll be the last time she'll indulge him. Happiness isn't something he can hold onto for very long, despite wanting to grasp onto it and never let go.

That swelling feeling? He realizes what it is a moment later when a familiar wetness wells at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't dare to open them, for fear the tears he's holding onto will be tugged away by gravity.

"But I don't want you to humour me if I'm not good enough the way I am. I want to be, I've always wanted to be enough 2B, even before all of this...but if I'm not then..."

Then he'll have to come to terms with it, even if it'll be the death of him again.

Her heart, what passes for it, it feels like it rips apart when she sees those tears in his eyes. All thought goes out the window and she simply reaches up, cups his face and pulls him down.

But she doesn't kiss him on the lips. She kisses the corners of his eyes, kisses those tears away, touching him so carefully so that he knows how dear he is to her.

"It isn't like that." She says firmly, urging him to look at her with a gentle little shake, her lips brushing his cheek as she lets her head fall back on the couch again. "I don't want you to feel... disappointment, with me. Being what I am now."

There. She's said it, clearly. Let there be no doubt that any hangup she might have is entirely because she doesn't think he could ever find her appealing now.

The way she kisses the corners of his eyes and cheeks so tenderly, the way she'd been carding fingers through his hair...even he can tell it's done out of adoration. He wants her to keep touching him like this, to keep showering him with love...because that's what this, isn't it? What else could it be?

Shaking his head while she still cups his face he can't help but laugh, the sound one coated with relief rather than mirth.

"You're crazy, you know that 2B? You couldn't disappoint me, even if you tried."

His eyes open then as he smiles down at her, unable to help himself. 21O had scolded him the last time he'd been genuine with his comments, told that he shouldn't flatter...but it isn't flattery if it's pointing out objective truth.

"You'll always be beautiful to me, 2B...no matter what chassis you're in."

Edited 2018-12-25 00:07 (UTC)

She can't help the part of her that doubts that.

He wouldn't think that way if he knew what she had done over and over, seemingly without end. If he knew how many times she'd spilled his blood or crushed his neck with her hands he wouldn't find her beautiful. If he knew what she really was, that she wasn't even his 2B at all, she knows he could never forgive her for it.

It's wrong to keep hiding it but she does all the same, refusing to ever, ever let him know when it means she'll lose this. She couldn't take that, could never bear it, so instead of commenting she pulls him down to kiss him again, open-mouthed and a touch more demanding than she'd allowed herself to be before.

But still gentle. Still treating him like she's afraid of breaking him.

The joke is that he does know. She lies and he's aware of it, even if he won't point it out right now. It doesn't matter how many times she takes him out, it doesn't matter what she does to him, he'd never turn her away. For better or worse, he'll be by her side.

When she kisses him again he's quick to return it, the way he leans into the contact needy and passionate. He wants her to be demanding, he wants her to be pushy and greedy. That's how he feels, after all, teeth finding their way to her lower lip once more. He's not made of glass, after all, and as such doesn't want her treating him like he is.

He's not human.

He doesn't want to stop. He tells her that out loud so she can't misinterpret it, shows her with his actions, and a part of her is still scared of what might happen if he ever learns the truth, but she owes him more than letting herself get caught up in dark thoughts when all he wants is something she can easily give him as long as she knows he really does want it.

He must, the way he kisses her again, and she threads her fingers into his hair to pull him down, urge him to keep biting if he wants to bite, to kiss him as hard as he might want to. Any damage they might cause to each other will be negligible and anyway, the mild spark of the possibility of this turning into a fight only makes her want him more.

One of her hands slides down, though, and finds his shoulder. Her hand strokes along his arm, over his elbow, down to his wrist, and it's when she breaks the kiss herself that she guides his hand up to cover her breast. She watches his face as she presses his hand to her, hungry to see the expression he'll show her when he gets to touch for the first time.

The thought of getting a little rough is enough to excite and drive him forward, inspiring him to nip and tug like he's truly hungry. In a way he is, but it's a hunger for affection and attention. For that he's starved, especially coming from her. Every touch she gives him he commits to memory, cherishing the sensation. It's only when he finds her dragging his hand up to settle his palm against her breast that he's stopped dead in his tracks.

The expression he gives her is priceless, one of awe as he stares at his hand for a moment, only for his gaze to shift to her face. His cheeks are flushed pink, warmed as coolant rushes to try and balance his internal temperature. He's...touching her. Through clothing, sure, but that doesn't diminish the weight of the action. Suddenly his other hand finds her cheek as he thumbs it, smoothing soft skin. His gloves are annoying him and so he breaks the newly made contact, only to pull off his glove with his teeth before replacing his hand. Skin on skin contact gives him a rush like no other.

"You're beautiful."

He can't help himself.

She smiles softly at his reaction, charmed and feeling a rush of affection for him when something this simple floors him this easily.

"We don't look that much different," she points out to him, leaning up to catch his lips in another kiss but this time, not laying back down. She sits up fully until he's essentially in her lap, hand on her breast, her teeth pulling too gently on his lip as she gives his hips a gentle push.

"This isn't the place for this. Show me your room."

The last thing she wants is A2 to walk in and ruin this moment, this thing between them that still feels so delicate that it might pop even from this one minor disturbance of changing locations.

Of course they look different. Sure, they look the same in the sense they're of the same make and both YoRHa units, but she's objectively more appealing. Anyone who would say otherwise would have to be blind. He's not going to protest though, not when 9S has found himself in her lap with her telling him they should go to his room.

He doesn't have to be told twice.

Up he scrambles off the couch, bare hand snagging gloved fingers to help her up to her feet. It's then he guides her, leading her toward his room, hoping that he hasn't left it in too big of a mess.

When they do enter she'll be greeted with a simple, monochrome furnished room, a desk in the corner sporting various pieces of electronics and machinery. His bed is neatly made, a small book of poetry on his bedside table. Suddenly he feels self conscious about his room, even though he knows she could care less.

"It's pretty simple but...it's cozy?"

Or it will be now, with her here with him.

Honestly, she doesn't spare much of a glance at her surroundings. She does look, taking in one moment to see what kind of place 9S calls home now that they have more freedom to make their own space their own, but to her the most important thing in the room is 9S himself. Her eyes move back to him almost at once, hand squeezing his to try to calm him down a little more.

"It's perfect." She promises him, drawing him so carefully back to her. She kisses him once before she leads him herself to his bed, but she doesn't sit.

She puts her hands on his shoulders and presses him down first, has him sit down on the edge of the bed and then stands in front of him as she moves her hands to the ties keeping her skirt in place. Wordlessly she begins to untie it, letting him watch her as she moves through the mechanical steps of undressing herself.

"You're perfect."

He blurts out back, easily guided toward his bed, letting himself be pushed down onto the edge of the mattress, only to be left to watch her fiddle with the ties of her skirt. He feels like he's entered an alternate reality as he keeps his gaze fixated on her. Much like how he's the most important part of the room, she's the most important thing for him to fix his attention on.

It's not like it's the first time he's seen her without her skirt. They've both self-destructed before, leaving them with unfavorably less clothing to cover them thanks to the blast. Context though makes all the difference - this is a deliberate removal of clothing, for his eyes alone right now. His pulse is racing as the implication of what's to come has his processors whirring wildly within him. His face is even redder now, gaze truly transfixed.

He's in awe as he stares at her with a kind of reverence one might reserve for God alone. Humans may be their gods, but to him 2B is beyond that - he's her savior. Without her, he wouldn't know what to do with himself other than do a poor job at toning down the red of his face.

The military model that she is, 2B isn't one to leave a mess behind. After she removes her skirt she folds it and sets it aside, smiling faintly at his praise as he lavishes it on her again.

"You don't have to keep complimenting me, Nines. I'm not going anywhere."

She tells him this even as she's undoing the closures that hold her top together, working the sleeves down her arms and folding that up too. He's seen her in just her leotard but he's right about the context meaning so much more, it's impossible to ignore the fact that her body, so different from his to start with and now modified to bring pleasure to a human, has started to respond.

Will he know what to do? Will she have to show him? When he feels the way her upgraded parts leak fluid will he reject her after all?

None of these doubts show on her face as she leans over to untie her boots, but she feels them all the same.

"You should undress too."

"Oh c-cmon 2B...!"

He's not just flattering for the sake of it. Everything he says is genuine - he just hopes she realizes it. She must, if she's teasing him. There's no pause in her undressing, and so he keeps watching, trying not to fidget as he sits. It's only when she goes to undo her boots that he realizes he's supposed to do the same and peel himself out of his clothes.

The pressure is on all of a sudden, as he finds himself expected to undress too. Swallowing he takes off his other glove, tossing it aside before letting his fingers fiddle with the buttons of his jacket. Sure, he figured he'd be getting naked too at some point, but he's shy all of a sudden, self conscious about his body. He's not sure what part of him would be even appealing to see like this in her eyes but he does his best to try and quell that fear. If she didn't want him without clothes, she wouldn't have told him to undress in the first place.

She's out of one boot and then the other, but for now she leaves her stockings. They don't get in the way enough for her to feel like they'll lessen any of this and what she finds more important is the way he seems to tense up as he starts to follow her lead.

Does he feel the same way she does? Self-conscious because of their differences but still willing to try, wanting to be enough for each other? Good enough to touch, worthy of being together after their lifetime of pain and separation?

She's still leaning over thanks to getting rid of the boots and it means she's at the right angle to just lean in and kiss him again, her hands following his to help him with the buttons of his coat, to slip under it and ease it down off his shoulders. She's still kissing him when she slips her hands under the hem of his shirt and skims that up his body and only pulls away for the time it takes to get it over his head.

"You look cute."

The changes shes made to her body aren't things that he'll hate per say, it's just the manner in which she went about getting them that made him uncomfortable. He means what he said though, that it doesn't matter what her chassis is; at the end of the day she's still 2B and he still loves her no matter what.

He's so utterly overwhelmed by her, even more so when she leans in to kiss him and help him with his buttons. Dainty fingers are trembling, warmed by the feel of hers on his, and things are escalating before he registers her hands are under his black undershirt. It's so different, being touched by her compared to others, not just because of who she is but because of what she is. He can understand her in ways humans can't - the only one who could manage to is A2, for obvious reasons.

Before he knows it his shirt is gone, chest exposed and on display. Then she drops the compliment on him, the red on his face spreading down his neck all the way to his collarbone.

"C-Cute? R...Really?"

He looks like he's on the verge of a meltdown as he reaches up to slap his hands over his face out of embarrassment. He's going to die...but it'll be a good death. If 2B thinks he's cute...yeah, he's good with that.

"Yes," she tells him without hesitation, and for the first time she takes advantage of her opportunity to just touch him. She starts simply, just her hand smoothing down the pale length of his neck and over his shoulder. "I've always thought that."

It's so much honesty from her all at once, too much, and once she's realized just how much she's admitted to she falls silent as she moves her hands down to his hips.

"Do you want to do these yourself?"

If not, she's already inching her fingertips towards the fly of his shorts.

Her touch is like nothing else. No really, there's no comparison. To feel her skin against his is something he's not used to but has always wondered about. It feels better than fantasy and makes something inside him twist up funny.

She's always thought that lays another fatal blow as he finds himself willing his internal temperature down, warnings going off in his head that he needs to get a hold of himself or he'll short circuit from overheating. He's doing his best though - what more can he do? He can't help it if 2B has such an effect on him.

When her fingers finally find the hem and fly of his shorts he can't help but tense up, memories of her giving him a bath resurfacing briefly. He'd refused to strip for her there...but he won't deny her this time, even if he feels a swell of inadequacy surging up within him. If she leaves it to him he won't ever do it. He's too much of a coward. At the very least if she takes them off he'll know it's something she wants.

"...You can do it, if that's what you want from me."

At this point, right now? He'll give her anything.

She can almost feel him pulling back from her, that doubt of his flaring back to life and breaking the bubble of peace they've found, and she won't stand for it. She banishes those thoughts with a kiss, but instead of doing anything to remove his shorts just now she limits it to just a kiss.

It's slow, deep. It's reconnecting and pulling him back into the moment, and when she does finally pull away she tugs him towards her.

"Stand up," she tells him as she helps him to his feet, turning them as she goes. "Stand right here."

She's still holding him by the hips as she takes his place on the bed, sitting while she brings him closer so he's standing right in front of her. He'll be more exposed this way, but it lets her lean in to press her lips to the center of his chest, just where his heart is. Another kiss she presses lower, following the curves of his body while she starts to slowly work his shorts open and down his hips.

It's so much easier to just follow her orders and let her tell him what to do. It's so much easier to just sink into each and every kiss she graces him with, to forget whatever worries he might have and let them melt away. While the other kisses shared between them had been quick and passionate or even chaste, this one is grounding and snaps him out of his spiraling self-reflection.

He lets her move him like a doll, standing and being re-positioned as she holds him by the hips. Their positions are switched this way, but even with her sitting on the mattress looking up at him and he looking down in turn...she's truly the one in control here and really? He's fine with that.

The kiss she places to his chest is where his black box resides beneath warm, soft skin. It's such a touching, gentle gesture that if he really did have a heart that beat instead it'd be racing, thrumming so loudly surely she'd hear it.

But he doesn't have a heart, neither of them do, but that doesn't mean they're without heart. If anything, this entire encounter has just proven the two of them have more heart than they know what to do with, which is half their problem in the first place. He doesn't need to breathe and yet he can't help the nervous little pants he lets out, hot air venting in a desperate bid to regulate sensitive systems. His shorts are easy enough to get rid of, slipping down and over his hips with minimal fuss, leaving 2B to deal with a familiar pair of black undershorts. Prone to fidgeting, 9S can't help but pick at his own fingers, digging at his nails, until he forces himself to busy his hands another way. Deft digits find her hair, fiddling with strands ever so gently as he braces himself to finish the job and leave him butt naked.

It strikes her as a little unfair to be in her leotard still while she's stripping him down, but that's not enough to make her stop. With her lips pressed to the soft, warm skin of his belly she skims his black shorts down, leaves him bare, but even then she doesn't pull away to look.

She can feel him responding under her touch in ways that make her breathe a little harder too, his arousal only feeding hers, and her hands kneed his thighs, his hips, but stay clear of the space between his legs for now. She focuses on touching the places he will deem safe, and as she does she lets her mouth drift lower, lower, until she's biting ever so gently on the swell of his hipbone.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He's going to lose his mind.

That's where 9S is at now, as 2B lets her mouth trail down his front. Gone are his undershorts, leaving him fully exposed and vulnerable, but she has enough tact to leave the bare space between his legs alone. Instead her focus is on other parts of him, firm fingers pressing and committing his frame to memory. It makes sense to him that 2B would be so naturally tactile, considering her model designation - E was just a subset of B, after all, a specialized class.

They're both soft and warm, sure, but they've still titanium alloy frames beneath all that synthetic skin. When her teeth put pressure on his hip there's an audible hitch of breath in his throat as he holds it, fingers that had been playing with her hair stilling. He doesn't need to breathe, neither of them do, and yet the longer he stops himself from venting the air within his chest, the more dizzy he finds himself becoming. It's still surreal, to have 2B's mouth on him period, but that doesn't make it any less delightful.

"No don't-" The interjection is desperate, painfully honest. "Please don't."

He has no idea what she's doing or what she can do to him, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop her. He wouldn't dare to, even if she decided to sink her teeth into him and tear him apart. He'd be fine with that too, being devoured by her. She'd already consumed his heart, after all. She might as well take the rest of him.

Honestly, she doesn't know what she can do to him either. Her experiences with males so far have included the necessary physical attributes to have sex. 9S lacks that, but she's had time to come to the realization that it simply doesn't matter. If this is the body he's comfortable in, the body that 9S chooses and loves and trusts, it's the one she loves. It's the one she wants.

But she doesn't have the ability to say something like that out loud. She is an E type, a B type as far as he knows, and talking about her feelings has never come easy for her.

It's never come at all, until she found herself here, but when 9S asks her not to stop she thinks she can show him in actions what she wants. She bites him again in that same spot, her teeth leaving angry little red marks that make her feel gratified to see, a tiny little mark to show who he belongs to when the humans are put out of their minds.

He is hers and she is his. They're partners, and as her hand slips up his thigh and rubs between his legs were his equipment should be, the fact that it isn't there doesn't matter. There will still be feeling there, a programmed knowledge that they were created in the image of humans and what she's doing is sexual even if he has no parts to physically respond to it. She tells herself that if she can kiss him and take his breath away it stands to reason that if she moves her fingers against him, presses there like she might touch herself, it should do something.

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