#ANYWAYS TIME TO SNOOZE

[exclusivelylukas]

Morning.

[smoosnoom]

lost my words again

He squints. “Mike?” “Hey,” Mike replies, feeling like a nutcase. He’s still holding onto his bike handles. “We – um, fancy meeting you here.” Will stares at him. His hair is progressively getting wetter. “I live here."

A sudden epiphany brings a confession in the rain.

[oldxenomorph]

heavy metals

pairing: reaper!nemesis/melinoe warnings: body horror, sexual content (sex with an eldritch machine, size difference, thigh riding, overstimulation), 18+ summary: nemesis returns after a century away from the crossroads, now a machine-goddess that serves the reaper emperor. her reunion with melinoë goes a step further, to make up for one hundred years of yearning.

The image lingered in her mind, replayed itself on a continuous loop, but she instead envisioned it was Melinoë’s ghostly hand touching her chest. Nemesis imagined that sickly green glow against the black metal, the slender bones shifting within and on command. She wished it was the faint teal of Melinoë’s lipstick on her neck; she would let Melinoë kiss her wherever she wanted, leave markings on her wherever she wanted. Retribution’s metal body covered in Nightmares’s kisses, kisses, kisses.

---

2392 CE

The end of the rain in Erebus brings with it the smell of petrichor. In the great megalopolises and urban sprawls, there is still that smell after the rains, but it’s different in the Crossroads. Earthen rainwater mixing with Hecate’s cauldron and Melinoë’s crops, the smell of garlic and wheat, nightshade and cattails, their oils drawn out by the biome itself. Erebus’s rain makes Nemesis smell like ozone, heavy and metallic, the result of making contact with her black hair and her red cloak that conceals her giant form. The biome extracts the scent of the outer void that clings to the goddess, from the many times she’s walked outside a ship, the vastness of her mother’s work all around her: dark matter, dark energy, gravity, the stars themselves, the arms of the galaxy wrapping around her.

Best to stay until the rains let up, Hecate had said. Nemesis hated the way the Titaness spoke to her. A cold and forced politeness, a frigid kind of formality. It was clear that the her presence was tolerated at most. We can’t have you return to your master soaked to the bone.

Like an old habit, Retribution Incarnate stood in the spot she used to guard, underneath a canopy of fabric and overgrown flora, wrapped upon her red cloak, her arms crossed underneath. The bowls of burning liquid were still there, a perpetual silver flame and silver fluid that hissed when the remnants of the rain made contact with it. Nemesis is eager to leave this place, she only came back to deliver a request to Hecate from Nyx. Although, the more she stands there, alone in her thoughts, she begins to believe that her mother (and the Emperor) had something else in mind with her visit. Nyx could have contacted Hecate whenever she wanted, why Nemesis for something that amounts to an errand? Something ferments in the air, gone sour; old tensions, memories, especially in this area.

Eventually, Nemesis makes up her mind to finally leave, taking a step out of the neglected tile circle towards the direction of the Crossroad’s exit.

“Nemesis?”

The familiar voice stops her. Retribution Incarnate turns around and sees Melinoë. She has not changed that much in a century; still wearing that saffron dress and pieces of armor made of a silver as dark and dazzling as the moon at night, her blonde hair still straight and just above her shoulders adorned with the pale crescent and the fire-licked laurels of her house, her frame still lithe and toned from all of her training and experience. Nemesis’s expression remains impassive, but inwards, seeing Melinoë again brings the sensation of cold needles sinking into her heart. It’s unexpected. She should have prepared herself to possibly see her again. She thought she timed this visit so she could avoid this. She should have left earlier.

Nemesis only gives Melinoë an unblinking stare that then drifts downward, noticing the glass bottle in the goddess’s hand. Bath salts.

“You’re leaving already? I was wondering if you’d like to join me in the Hot Springs. It’s been a while.”

“They’re not particularly special.” Nemesis’s voice is flanged, split from her old voice, all heavy and deeply distorted, like an old and corrupted audio file. In truth, she has not thought about the amenities of the Crossroads since she left. “The Ziggurat has many baths that are twice as nice and just as hot.”

“I’m sure, but the Hot Springs are different,” Melinoë reminds Nemesis, her feet that glow that burning coals bringing her a step closer to the towering goddess.

Retribution narrows her eyes, the golden illumination made more intense by her skepticism at the offer. “Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden, Princess? The last time we left things, you were angry.”

A century of being apart hangs between them, time rotting away like a bloated dead body. The time when Nemesis came back, all new, the Wrath of the Emperor, to return things to Hecate, to wrap up things left undone before leaving to serve Extinction. She distinctly remembers the sting of the look of shock and horror on Melinoë’s face, how she moved away from her whenever she tried to get near, the tone of her voice. Anger. Confusion. Fear. (Heartbreak.)

Why give up everything that you are to become a machine? Are you Indoctrinated? Is your mind even your own? How do I know that you are still you?

A machine-goddess. Reaper technology. The Emperor’s black ichor pumping through her system. Nemesis’s eyes were the only gold left within her, the gold of her mother’s eyes.

The relationship with her siblings was made even more distant, but she could deal with that. None of Nyx’s children were close to begin with, and her transformation did not change that. Eris took it the worst. Strife Incarnate was always afraid of Extinction and the Reapers, her existential dread masked by her attitude. (Always knew you would go work for Her Imperial Reaper-ness and Nyx, Nemmie. What? Didn’t want to take orders from old Hecate anymore? Didn’t want to be my sister anymore? Were you ever my sister in the first place? Do you make that ‘dial-up noise’ whenever you wake up?) But Melinoë’s reaction stunned Nemesis, she didn’t expect it. And yet, it just confirmed the Crossroads was no longer a place for her. Nemesis had long outgrown it and everyone that called it home. It was not her home.

Melinoë looks down at the bottle of salts in her hands, her slender fingers settling on the edges, her thumbs running around the lip of the cork. She averts her gaze, as though still unable to truly look at Nemesis, as though to protect her own memory. Nemesis’s hard gaze is unrelenting, waiting for her to speak.

“I was angry, Nem. But…. I had some time to think about it.” The chthonic goddess holds out the bottle as a kind of olive branch. “Join me? For old time’s sake at least.”

Nemesis doesn’t respond for a few seconds, the silence peppered with the sounds of the Crossroads: the bubbling of the cauldron, the rustling of reeds and cattails, the hissing of brazers burning. Then, a single word.

“Fine.”

---

2295 CE

The other Revenants helped Nemesis into the bath, their many sets of metal hands guiding her as she walked. Nemesis towered over them with her new height. Getting used to her new equilibrium, her new height, her new weight was proving to be the more difficult than the waiting. It felt like she was not entirely in control of her body, even though it moved as she commanded, synthetic tendons and cords obeying every signal from her brain. How was she supposed to protect her mother, if she could not walk?

Nemesis’s strange, yellow optics looked down at the pool, the water lit from within, steam rising against the blue light. Like all places within the Ziggurat, the room was dark, except for the pool and the technology in the machine-women that held her up. The darkness Nemesis was used to was sometimes cold and wet, sometimes it smelled of ash and incense and whatever bubbled in Hecate’s cauldron. She remembered Melinoë’s garden, lit by sickly green and silver braziers, her crops soaking up the rain in Erebus.

Hot, blue water. Not unlike the hot springs in the Crossroads. The pain made Nemesis see Melinoë in the steam, mismatched eyes and wet ashen blonde hair, the moisture revealing her hair’s true texture, the soft ringlets that framed her face.

When she took the next step, Nemesis landed on her foot in an awkward way and it sent pain shooting through her synthetic nerves. Revenants helped her adjust, their flanged and distorted voices reminded her to put her weight on them, let them do the heavy lifting, she must concentrate on recovery. A few more months, a few more surgeries, and then the conditioning, retraining her body, reshaping her mind; everything made in the image of the Emperor, her vision for Retribution Incarnate.

Her body felt so heavy.

Nemesis heard Melinoë’s voice as her cybernetic eyes flickered, glassy from the pain.

How long has it been since you last took off the armor?

Revenants helped her to the bath’s threshold, until Nemesis insisted that she could walk by herself. She left the arms of the machine-women, her body lumbering forwards. At one point it felt like she was going to tip over, but she regained her balance, even if it sent another wave of agony through her system. Slowly, Nemesis sank into the scalding hot water, the salts sizzling upon contact with the metal of her frame. The same salts Lilith used to help heal the Emperor-as-Shepard’s body after the Skyllian Blitz, or so it was said to her. They felt good, even better with the heat sinking into every small space between synthetic parts. The pain subsided, lowering itself to something dull and manageable for the time being.

When the pain went away, so did the vision of Melinoë.

Something within Retribution ached, made her heart thump against the metal cage of her chest. Nemesis was alone in the heat and the darkness, the Revenants that helped her having taken their leave, to give her privacy. Metal fingers gently touch the place where her heart was, the new biomechanical organ beating steadily; it was the thump of her own pulse, the yearning making it loud, making it hurt.

Nemesis’s eyes drifted downwards at her own reflection in the water, the ripples distorting her face. The changes to her face took also took some getting used to: the exposed metal jaw, her eyes that glowed with the same color of cybernetics as her mother’s primordial starlight eyes, the faint black veins underneath what remained of her skin.

Every time Nemesis looked at herself, she saw her mother. Nyx’s hair, Nyx’s eyes, Nyx’s lips. And every time Nemesis looked at herself, she saw the Emperor. In the structure of her face, the architecture of her body, in the hardness of her eyes, in the way she sets her mouth, in her lines and angles.

It is undeniable that Nyx shaped her in the Emperor’s image. When she first learned this, Nemesis believed she carried eight million years of her mother’s loneliness. But during this process, she learned, slowly, that it was not loneliness that prompted Nyx to shape her this way, but love. A daughter, beloved and brutal as the Emperor.

When she looked up from her reflection, Nemesis stared ahead into the darkness of the room and saw many sharp, wet, metallic smiles. The darkness swarmed just beyond the threshold of the pool, beyond the blue light.

---

The stone pathway to the hot springs remains the same since Nemesis left.

In the darkness just beyond where the light of the hot springs touches, Nemesis watches Melinoë get into the hot, glowing water. Her strange eyes study how the goddess’s bones move under her flesh, how they move in her ghostly arm. Her blonde hair was already beginning to dampen from the steam even before she dipped her head into the water, ringlets forming, strands sticking to her neck. Nemesis’s eyes follow the line of Melinoë’s shoulders, down her arms and the curves of her waist and hips.

The sound of water moving interrupts her trance-like stare, her cybernetic eyes flickering as she blinked. “The water’s fine, Nem.” Melinoë calls out. “You can come in.”

Underneath the red of the cloak, Nemesis’s chest rises with a slow inhale. The water did look enticing, the heat pulling at her, wanting to sink into her frame. She could always leave whenever she felt like it, nothing was keeping her here as no longer part of the Unseen. But she might as well join Melinoë. She did not come all this way for nothing.

Emerging from the shadows and into the the green-yellow light, Retribution’s hands part the redness to undo the pin that held the special crimson garment together. Melinoë turns around just as the last bit of the fabric slips away.

Nemesis’s body is all metal, pitch black, aside from the red lights of the Emperor’s technology, Reaper technology, and the upper half of her face. No other flesh remains, even internally where her vital organs had become replaced with biomechanical ones, specially made just for her. Thick synthetic sinew moves when she does, in addition to the various interlocking cybernetic parts, mechanisms, servos, and pistons inside and outside her frame. Hardly any part of her has the curves of organic life, she is angular and devastating. Woven throughout her shape are wires and cables made of the same black metal and inorganic material, slipped between her synthetic muscles, between the planes of metal on the broadest parts of her body; visible in her neck, her chest, her arms, her legs, nestled safely within her giant frame, like a network of heavy, solid arteries and veins. Down the middle of her broad back is a thick metal spine.

There is an elegance to Nemesis’s new, horrific body. Everything works together, in tandem, efficiently utilizing the Reaper technology, the new black material within her, and her own divine power. She removes the armor attachments that bulked up her already impressively large frame, setting them next to the red cloak and Stygius. Nemesis is an engine, a core, a fortress, a warhead.

She still has her long hair, beautiful, the color of Nyx’s. A midnight black, a night sky without stars. When Nemesis removes her headband, emblazoned with the Sign of Extinction, and pulls apart the ring holding the bun atop her head, her hair tumbles down, cascading down her shoulders and back, a curtain of blackness that matches her body. She sets her earrings next to her headband atop the folded up cloak.

Melinoë’s mismatched eyes look at Nemesis with awe. Retribution’s heavier and much taller body means she moves differently, her equilibrium has changed. It took her over a year to get used to it. Salts in the water react upon contact with Nemesis’s body as she lowers herself into the pool, activating, hissing and sizzling. The water is as she remembered, not to hot or too cold. Just right.

The two goddesses sit across from one another, the length of green pool separating them. Like being an ocean apart, but something in Nemesis didn’t mind it. She closes her eyes, feeling the warmth sink into her. Despite her body being made of metal, the hot springs made her keenly aware of the areas with the most strain. It had been a while since she indulged in such relaxation.

“I meant it when I said I had a lot of time to think, Nem.”

Nemesis opens her eyes and raises her head to look at Melinoë. For a while, she does’t respond, just stares at the the goddess across from her as she thinks. Her body radiates a thrum, a sound akin to that of a Reaper capital ship, low and deep, the immensity of Extinction compressed into her shape.

“Is this your way of apologizing to me?”

Melinoë furrows her brows at Nemesis’s reply.

“We’re not rivals anymore, Princess. And we’re not the same as we once were thousands of years ago.” The voice of Retribution Incarnate pronounces every word with intention, every syllable deliberate, spoken with a weight. “I thought you of all people would have understood, especially after Makaria was born. Not wanting history to repeat itself. Finding your true purpose. You would do anything to protect your family. This is how I protect mine.”

I am keeping my vow to Mother Nyx.

“I get that now, but at the time, it felt like you were abandoning us. One day you were gone and when I saw you again, I hardly recognized you. I saw that symbol on your headband and…. I don’t know, it scared me.” Now it is Melinoë’s turn to initiate the silence, the pause between responses. Her face changes, softens, looks regretful, vulnerable. “Funny. I was the first of the Unseen to make contact with her and I’m still scared of her. Even though she and her family have been nothing but kind to me.”

The flesh half of Nemesis’s lips forms a slight slant. In the past, she would have harped on Melinoë, she would said what she believed was the true root of goddess’s feelings out loud and bluntly, perhaps even bitterly. They would have argued again and things would remain as they were when Nemesis left. Part of her wants to push back, instead all she does is look at Melinoë with an irritated expression.

Fear of the Emperor is a convenient excuse, Nemesis thinks to herself. Yet, there is a truth to what she says. Melinoë has always been afraid of the Emperor and the Great Family, ever since she first made contact with them. Yet, Retribution wonders if she more afraid of the Reapers, the Emperor’s soul, the actual instruments of the cycle of extinction. She distinctly remembers the emphasis Melinoë put on the word ‘Indoctrination’ that day a century ago. It wasn’t just the fear of the Emperor or the Reapers that scared Melinoë. Something else haunted her.

Golden cybernetics notice the way the goddess’s green and red eyes look down at the hot water, how the heat makes her pale skin warmer with color, how her shoulders seem to be tight with tension. Nemesis’s gaze eases slightly when she sees how Melinoë has her hands clasped together. Flesh and magic intertwined, her fingers tangled together tightly. The younger goddess’s body language spoke the truth for her, it told Nemesis everything, even if her mouth could not form the words right now.

Retribution Incarnate glances at her own reflection in the water and sees her own truth, the reason why she made this decision. And it was her choice, made of her own free will, although her sisters would say this outcome was fated the moment Nyx gave birth to her.

A deep breath leaves Nemesis, biomechanical lungs expanding and contracting within her chest, pressing against her aching heart. She doesn’t know if she can endure another century like this, letting her yearning eat away at her, letting her memories of Melinoë consume her thoughts at all hours. They both have went through enough, made their own choices, learned to live with them and move on.

“I believe you,” she says, looking up just in time to catch Melinoë’s reaction of her eyes widening slightly in relief. “Next time, don’t take a century to tell me the truth. It’ll be better for the both of us.”

You deserve better.

For a while, Nemesis is silent as she looks into the water, eyes following the ripples that radiate from their bodies. Yearning pulls at her vocal chords, yearning compels her to finally speak. “When I was in recovery, I thought a lot about you. I thought a lot about moments like this. I missed the nectar you would bring me. I missed these invitations to the hot springs. Even missed our sparring, the things we used to do when I would sneak out of the Crossroads.” The heat of the springs brings her back to all the times her mind conjured up Melinoë’s appearance, all the memories that the Ziggurat and the Reaper technology pulled to the forefront of her brain during those years when she was drowning in agony, every time she went under for surgery, every time she stared into the dark of outer space. “I found my true purpose, but it still felt like something was missing.”

The playback in her head is interrupted when Nemesis felt the chthonic goddess link her arms around her neck, her face pressing against the column of metal and thick chords that holds up her head. Nemesis feels her pulse pounding her chest, in her cabled throat, it rings in her ears.

“I missed you too, Nemesis,” Melinoë says, her voice heavy with longing, “I don’t want another century to go by without you.”

This is the second time Nemesis is rendered speechless, stunned. A thousand things flood her brain. The feeling of Melinoë’s body pressing against hers, her voice, her face finding comfort in the crook of her neck, I missed you; she wants to wrap her arms around the goddess, she wants to press her lips against her cheek, she wants to squeeze her so tightly, she wants and wants and wants. Instead, Retribution carefully takes Melinoë’s ghostly hand, holding it in her own larger one of black metal. For a moment, Nemesis marvels at how well it fits into her own, how her fingers came together to rest in her palm. When that moment passes, she places the goddess’s hand over where her biomechanical heart, letting her feel its rhythmic beating against her ghostly fingertips.

“I've waited a long time for this, Melinoë.”

---

ABOUT A MONTH AGO.

Nemesis had not meant to turn the corner just as the Nyx left the Emperor’s office, but she quickly walked back, concealing her form behind the wall of black rock and resin. Certain spaces in the Ziggurat were tighter than others, not as vast or open as other levels. A century later, she was still getting used to navigating the building, understanding how it shifts; she followed the loudness of the thrum, sometimes the sounds the Emperor’s daughters made in the vents. The First Prince knew how to traverse the building’s entirely in a single day, but that was expected of him as its caretaker.

A tightening in her chest, pulled at the machine-goddess as she listened to the voices of her mother and the Emperor. She glanced around the corner and watched them. Cybernetic eyes immediately landed on the way Nyx’s hand rested on the Emperor’s chest, how her slender fingers moved over its black biomechanical structure, just barely slipping underneath that imperial black robe. Fingers that knew every texture and pattern, every ridge and groove. Her hand rested on the space over the great entity’s heart.

“I have a few more things to do,” the Emperor said, the coldness of her deep, machine voice possessing a warmth only for Nyx. In her red and black eyes, there was only love and adoration for the goddess; long, spidery fingers gently traced the line of Nyx’s jaw, before caressing her pale cheek. “Then I will join you.”

“Good. I will waiting.” Nyx’s ethereal, ancient voice is tinged with a playfulness that Nemesis has rarely heard, a tone that was clearly only for the Emperor. In her voice was a great love for the entity. Though Nemesis could not see her eyes, she imagined they had a look of affection, incandescent with devotion.

The Emperor leaned down to eagerly kiss the Night, her scarred lips claiming the goddess’s with a passion, a hunger. Nyx’s hand moved upwards, following the architecture of the Emperor’s chest and neck until she was cradling her face. Large black tentacles began to wrap around the goddess’s waist.

It felt wrong watch her mother and the Emperor being intimate. Nemesis quickly looked away just as they kissed, moving back behind the corner. Her metal hand gently touched where her own biomechanical heart was and felt her own pounding heartbeat underneath her fingertips. The image lingered in her mind, replayed itself on a continuous loop, but she instead envisioned it was Melinoë’s ghostly hand touching her chest. Nemesis imagined that sickly green glow against the black metal, the slender bones shifting within and on command. She wished it was the faint teal of Melinoë’s lipstick on her neck; she would let Melinoë kiss her wherever she wanted, leave markings on her wherever she wanted. Retribution’s metal body covered in Nightmares’s kisses, kisses, kisses.

Nemesis set her jaw as the longing pulled at her.

It was a while before she emerged from around the corner and crossed the threshold, entering the Emperor’s office. When she entered, the entity was standing before a large projection of the Milky Way, her shape eclipsing the light of the galaxy. Nemesis lowered her head slightly in respect.

She watched the way the way the Emperor’s great tentacles moved in tandem to her walking, keeping the equilibrium of her greta height and size. Nemesis’s mind wandered, even as the entity got closer, thinking about what she saw, what she was looking at. Maybe she could enhance her body to have tentacles like the Emperor. Somewhere deep in her mind and behind her cybernetic eyes, she envisioned herself with such enhancements with Melinoë in her lap, the goddess’s back arching, her name on those teal-smeared lips.

A sound akin to a laugh came from the Emperor, a deep and unsettling sound. It broke Retribution’s train of thought, derailed it into oblivion. Nemesis forgot that she was connected to the entity now, her thoughts must have been so loud. It was mildly embarrassing. A dark blush, the color of a deep bruise, formed underneath what remained of Nemesis’s skin, spreading and darkening the black veins.

“You truly are my daughter.”

The Emperor’s voice was the sound of annihilation, a teeth-rattling baritone, cold, unfeeling, immense. But Nemesis could hear something that was uncharacteristic of how it was normally presented. Maternal. The kind of voice she used for her daughters. Nemesis heard it whenever the Emperor had her arms full of new and young daughters or whenever the drones and queens curled around her.

A cold, pale hand reached forward to gently touch Retribution’s face. Nemesis looked up at the Emperor, taking in her presence at this closeness. Golden cybernetics gazed into those strange red and black eyes, the death cycles of stars, celestial bodies eaten in real time. Nyx made every splendid stellar formation just for her to devour. In the Emperor’s eyes, Nemesis saw the end of Earth, the death of Sol, the collision of the Milky Way and Andromeda, the darkness when every star is consumed, the end of the universe.

Extinction.

“The yearning you feel cannot last, Nemesis. It will eat you if nothing is done,” the Emperor said. She knew about her aching heart, how it never stopped hurting even long after her transformation. Retribution Incarnate looked up at the End of Everything with wide eyes, golden cybernetics vibrating with awe. “Your mother would not want you to wait, she did not make you to be a vessel of longing. I do not want you to wait.”

---

Nemesis presses deep, bruising kisses all along Melinoë’s neck, her chest, her stomach. If she could not mark her with lipstick, then she would mark her in other ways that would last much longer. She’s thought about what her kisses would look like underneath that saffron dress, barely concealed by its length. She’s thought about the way Melinoë’s gorget would conceal all the markings she’d leave behind, secrets only she would know about. Melinoë sank a hand into the machine-goddess’s damp hair as she arched her back slightly off the heated stone floor of the hot springs, pressing her body into those hard kisses.

It has been a while since Retribution Incarnate has touched flesh. She has forgotten how soft it is compared to metal. Melinoë’s body is supple and pliant in her hands. The sounds she makes when Nemesis’s kneads the softness of her breasts and her thighs will be played back in her head later. Her sighs of pleasure, her warmed flesh, the sensations that drive her to whisper the machine-goddess’s name, the gasps and whimpers when she is kissed or touched in a certain way, stimulations more potent than nectar, more intoxicating than ambrosia. Nemesis claims the inside of the goddess’s thighs, marking them with her hard kisses.

Melinoë sharply arches her back and a drawn out moan escapes her as the machine-goddess presses her heated tongue against her warmth. Black metal fingers squeeze the flesh of the chthonic goddess’s thighs again as Retribution begins to devour her, slowly, savoring flesh that’s meant be worshiped, adoration in the act of consumption, to taste her lover in full. Metal sinks deeper into the goddess, deeper into her desire, pulling out all semblance of speech and thought. Melinoë’s reactions fuel Nemesis: the moans that slip out of her lungs and leave her lips, the hand that tightens in her black hair, the way she presses herself against her mouth, needing more and more and more. But it was her name in Melinoë’s voice that made desire coil tightly in her insides.

Her name in difference cadences, whispered and moaned, staggered upon whimpers whenever she touches and kisses bundles of sensitive nerves, punctuated by gasps and sighs. Melinoë’s voice sounds like a song, one only for Nemesis. Especially when she climaxes the first time, repeating the name of Retribution over and over again, holding her head in place as her body contorted and writhed in pure pleasure.

Nemesis takes it all in, hums against where she’s most sensitive, the vibrations of her flanged voice causing Melinoë to whine.

Pulling herself up, golden cybernetics hungrily look over the the goddess underneath her. Desire grows within her, it feels like electricity and dark energy building up, coiling, writhing, tightening within her center, like a mass effect drive core just before it makes contact with a mass relay. Melinoë lays there, damp blonde hair sticking to the skin on her neck, barely covering the markings, the deep imprints of Nemesis’s kisses, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath, the flushed color that spread throughout her body, her mortal ancestry making her even warmer, hotter.

Retribution Incarnate holds her great body over Melinoë’s. The black metal of her shape blocks out the light of the springs, engulfing her in darkness, black hair spilling over her shoulders, further concealing the goddess underneath her. In the darkness of the space between their bodies, Nemesis’s cybernetic eyes, Reaper technology, and Melinoë’s ghostly arm provide the only illumination, gold and red like a twin-star system in a red nebula, and the sickly green light capturing the textures and intricacies of her body. An audible exhale leaves the machine-goddess as Melinoë touches her body, slender fingers made from flesh and magic moving over the sections of her chest, her shoulders, down her great arms.

Fingers that grip Retribution’s metal forearms, following their architecture, moving up to spread wide as they fill themselves with metal biceps and triceps, anatomy constructed by Reaper technology and cybernetic augmentation. “More, please. Nemesis.”

In a single motion, Nemesis pushes her thigh between Melinoë’s legs. The younger goddess’s lips immediately fall agape as the angles of the metal limb press against nerves still raw and sensitive, eliciting another whine. Half-flesh, half-metal lips immediately claim Melinoë’s bare ones; Nemesis kisses her hard, devours her again, and again, and again. An unrelenting kiss, one that Melinoë moans into as she begins to rock her hips, slowly, finding the place that brings her the most pleasure. The chthonic goddess uses Nemesis’s arms as support, holding onto her, even when she squeezes her thighs around the other’s, riding the waves of pleasure surging through her.

Nemesis finds herself moving her own hips, chasing that sensation within her. As much as she enjoys this, she’d rather have Melinoë on top of her, riding her. Through the haze of lust that swarms inside her skull, she makes a note to ask the Revenants how they engage in such acts, how they compensate, how they handle desire and sex. A deep hunger begins to grow inside the machine-goddess, something insatiable. If she could, she would have Melinoë every night, to satisfy the one hundred years of longing, every night of holding her soft body in her hands. Nemesis presses her thigh harder against the goddess as she leans down to kiss her neck, wanting such tenderness in her mouth, feeling the vibrations of Melinoë’s voice against her strange lips.

A groan leaves her. Heavily distorted, her voices splitting and reforming and splitting, pleasure lining her insides. The heat and electricity slid down her spine and into her shoulder blades, slipped into her hips, it makes her groan again. Melinoë grips Nemesis’s forearms tighter, her hips moving faster, her breath quickening, her sounds becoming more desperate as she reaches her peak.

It has been a while since Nemesis felt Melinoë’s strength. The chthonic goddess’s grip tightens around her metal arms as she comes again, her body squirming and arching, the back of her head pressing against the stones. Nemesis lowers her body slightly, her thighs pressing into Melinoë at a new angle, prolonging her orgasm as she holds onto the machine-goddess with all her might, as her legs clamp down around the limb that she was riding. She sounded so beautiful at the zenith of her pleasure, moaning, whimpering, gasping, clinging to Nemesis for stability. It makes that desire that’s been tightening in her core amplify the way raw pleasure takes the form of pressure that makes her entire system ache, makes it feel like her heart is going to explode in her chest. Nemesis feels herself climbing, all by watching Melinoë, all my being the source of her climax.

Nemesis doesn’t experience an orgasm the same way, but something akin to it happens within her body. That pressure, that tightness within her that made everything warm, that feeling of a mass of dark energy and electricity growing, spreading through her synthetic nerves, finally releases. Nemesis moans, her distorted voice rising in pitch as she feels her pleasure fire inside her like a railgun; she moans Melinoë’s name over and over again as she rides her climax, as she curls her metal fingers inwards into fists. She feels her orgasm between her legs, in her gut, in her chest, in her throat; it consumes her, it devours her, it swarms around her heart. Her zenith feels like a hole opening up in her head, a hole waiting to be filled with more Reaper technology and Melinoë’s love. Nemesis groans through the sensation, finding it to be both pleasurable and painful, all at once.

When Nemesis collapses, she makes sure she does so next to Melinoë. If she could, she would have fallen asleep right then and there. Her eyes flicker, heavily lidded, adjusting to the new sensation of both clarity and the absence of any meaningful thought.

The smaller, chthonic goddess sits up, placing her hand on Retribution’s metal frame that rises and falls with every deep breath, her face wearing a slightly worried expression. “Nemesis?” She pushes black strands of hair away from the machine-goddess’s face. “Are you alright?"

“I’m fine.” Nemesis exhales. “This was…. My first time doing this in this body.” Melinoë offers her a small smile, relieved.

Retribution lifts herself up slightly so she can turn onto her side. The stone floor felt nice against her body, especially against her synthetic muscles. It feels good enough to fall asleep. The skin around Nemesis’s eyes begins to strain, the heat beckons her to close her eyes. At this point, she has neither the strength nor the willpower to keep her eyes open. Melinoë lifts up the machine-goddess’s arm, crawling underneath it and positioning herself against her chest, fitting perfectly in her embrace. Part of Nemesis would like to stay this for a long time, perhaps even forever. Instinctively, she drapes her arm over the younger goddess’s frame, but not before pulling her closer.

“Eventually I’ll have to go back,” Nemesis says, her flanged voice producing only tired syllables.

“I know….” Melinoë touches the machine-goddess’s face with her ghostly hand. “Please stay, Nemesis. Just for a little while.”

Nemesis says nothing for a little while, succumbing to a micro-nap, only cracking open her eyes just long enough to formulate a reply. Golden light pours through the slits, their illumination directed only at the goddess that was also falling asleep. “Anything for you, Melinoë.”

[yuzuuu4]

「Welcome to the Trickstar Night☆」 のリリースおめでとうございます！！！

[bougainvilea]

GUYS i baked all afternoon!! i went to my sisters house at 5pm and got home around 11. i made a lemon slice + a choc cake. the lemon slice is for the school bake sale and the chocolate cake was for staff morning tea :) i feel so enriched i did something for my brain something for my body AND something for my hands today!!!!!!!! yay!!!!!!

[art-in-a-bottle]

Step 1. A Nap

Dec 2023 - April 2024

Just a God taking a good ol’ nap

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

really channeled my inner yassified!howdy today via being practically comatose all day due to Migraine, then as soon as i woke up i demolished so many tacos in one sitting. he's just like me fr

[mecharose]

yes im convinced every time after hanging out with ppl that im the most annoying person ever to walk this earth. yes i will keep going out and talking to every single rando who will vibe w me anyway. get u a girl who does both

[elegyofthemoon]

the cat showed up again at the cafe

[catboydan]

fiance got me a kindle for my birthday <3

[softerhaze]

listen. as a ts4 enjoyer...ts4 LOVER, even...prom in HSY is literally the worst thing I have ever had to sit through in this game, full stop

[real-sun-wukong-fan01]

Y'know i always saw people draw macaque human form as basically his shadow play disguise but with macaque haircut so

i realized how funny the concept of wukong and macaque being the same age (25) but one looks likes a 17 years old, and the other looks like a middle age man with a little bread.

Yes, both are still called twins even though they no longer look alike.

I like working on the time swap AU

[satorisoup]

me when i sleep in but i still proceed to take two 3 hour naps :3

[munamania]

caught the roommate's weather segment on the college radio this morning :3

[chitter17]

I love the color pink a lot, and my layout is super pink But!!!!! I'm feeling more... freshwater bass right now... I want a cool marine life layout... I've been watching so many sea life videos and documentaries lately but I love freshwater too since I live by so many lakes! I think I'll adjust my theme Tomorrow... I need to go to bed now! (∪｡∪)｡｡｡zzz Good night! 🌙

[detective-gum-chew]

on occasion I will be like, hm. I have been neglecting my poor ace attorney followers recently, let’s fix that, and then I go into the tag and it’s a national holiday.

anyway happy Phoenix disbarment day