Work Text:
At 1500 system hours, the budget meeting concludes.
Without a moment to spare, Head Researcher Asta jumps to her feet and strides over to you, her heels clacking audibly against the Herta Space Station’s sleek metal flooring.
The two of you had been sneaking glances at each other the whole time. You knew that budget meetings were always torture to Asta. To you, you were way in over your head, debating the movements of tens of millions of IPC credits with all the clout of a substitute-assistant-shift supervisor of some out-of-the-way department nobody had ever heard of. But to Asta, she was being forced to watch incessant weekly squabbles over pocket change.
As you rise from your chair, chatting with your friend about when you’ll both be available, Asta grabs your uniform jacket and pulls you to the side.
Her face is just the tiniest bit flushed. Her grey-blue eyes are wide, alight, sparkling with frustration, though not at you. Not that your friend knew that.
“I need to speak to you. Come with me. Now.” It probably came out more aggressively than she’d intended.
“Damn, what’d you do?” Your friend asks.
Before you could do anything more than shrug, Asta had already made a beeline for the door, with your jacket, and you, in tow.
At 1504 system hours, Asta drags you into a storage room. With a practiced gesture, she types in a few permissions on the keypad and maxes out the door’s security clearance for the next hour.
You whistle. “You’re getting fast at that.”
“Necessity breeds innovation, my dear researcher.” Not a trace of shame in her singsong voice.
“What a brazen abuse of power…”
“You want brazen?” Asta’s face is definitely flushed now, red as her hair with anticipation. “Shut up and fuck me or I’ll have Arlan throw you out the airlock.”
You start to grin. You were going to come up with some kind of witty retort. Tease her a bit longer, frustrate her, get her even more worked up. But before any of that could happen, Asta pushes you against a wall, rattling a shelf of old papers and supplies, and pulling you into a forceful kiss.
Her next meeting is at 1530 system hours; there’s no time to waste. With a breathy fervor only known to you, she strips you down, trembling fingers fumble against your belt buckle and trousers. Asta’s movements are punctuated with little gasps for air, breaking her embrace and glancing up at you with a needy gaze.
It’d been a few months since you and Asta began sneaking off for your ‘recharging’ sessions.
Back then, your supervisor had asked you to retrieve some old files. Hard copied old files, probably from a billion Amber Eras ago. Grumbling under your breath, you wandered into the out-of-the-way file closet, and came face to face with Head Researcher Asta, leaning against the wall with her hand buried in her skirt, getting herself off like it was the end of the world.
The sight was still burned into your memory. Her shirt was half open, freeing one of her perky breasts so she could finger her nipple. (It was a delicate rose color, almost matching her hair, you recall noticing.) Her panties were pulled down around her thighs in haphazard twists, as her juices rolled down her inner legs and dripped onto the steel walkway. And, of course, the look of abject horror on Asta’s adorable, blushing face, as her body was unwillingly and suddenly subjected to the biggest orgasm in her life.
Moments after that, Asta struck a deal with you. In exchange for your silence, you were made a participant and an accomplice.
You return her kisses, caressing her rose-pink hair and pulling her head close with one hand, unbuttoning her shirt to play with her tits with the other. In response, she feels you up too, every part of her hungry for any sort of skin contact she can find. It would have been accurate to say that you and her explored each others’ bodies, but that’s not quite right. It’s no longer an exploration. Both you and her could map out the contours of each others’ figures blindfolded.
Her skirt is hiked up against her waist, the edges carelessly tucked under one of her belts, her silken pink lingerie is rolled down on the ground around one of her ankles. Her fingertips dance along your throbbing cock, finally free at last from the tyranny of your trousers. Asta rubs her bare crotch against yours.
“Come on,” she whispers breathlessly. “Fuck me already.”
You don’t need to be told twice. And frankly, you’re both in a bit of a rush.
At 1507 system hours, you grab Asta by her plump, round ass, push her against another shelf, and shove your dick inside her. She breaks away from your shared kiss to let out a long, satisfied moan.
Her arms wrap around you, embracing you, pulling you tight, as she begins to bounce on your cock. Adorable little moans continue to fall from her soft pink lips in time with your movements. They’re little gasps at first, then little groans, then longer, breathier moans, as though a skilled and trusted masseuse were melting away all the stresses of her daily life.
You pound her faster, and faster. The sound of your flesh against hers echo throughout the storage room, as your cock aches more and more, as her slick, snug pussy welcomes you further and further, her voice gets messier, yet more precise. Words spoken with intent, but less articulation. “Yes,” and “Harder,” and “More!” and “Just like that!” before eventually settling on your name, your name, your name.
And you are all too happy to obey your dear Head Researcher’s demands. It’s not a zero-sum game, the rewards are proportional to what you put in(to her). Her squeals reach a fever pitch, a lovely, ecstatic melody that sets you over the edge, too.
As a low groan escapes your mouth, you fill her up. Asta’s voice devolves into airy gasps, and then, a satisfied “mmm…” She buries her face in your neck and nuzzles you with her sweaty, red cheeks.
At 1513 system hours, Asta loosens her grip on you, leans back, and flashes a teasing, smart-alec grin. “Quick shot.”
“Hypocrite.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Mutually assured destruction.”
Asta laughs. After resting a moment longer, she climbs off your dick and kneels before you. Before you can react, she’s gently cleaning your shaft with her tongue, lapping up the stray droplets of milky semen, as she stuffs her pussy with her fingers and plays with your cum inside her. She stares up at you, and the look in those gorgeous blue eyes is anything but innocent.
Another lick up your cock. She plants a noisy kiss on the tip. “Round two?”
“Yeah.” In that moment, despite your first round, you don’t think your dick could be any harder.
At 1515 system hours, you grab Asta by the waist and turn her around, pushing her tits against the storage room’s cold metal walls. The frigid steel sends chills through her muscles and goosebumps through her skin; you feel them under your palms and your fingertips as you explore her body. When your cockhead pierces her again, your forcible entry sends globs of cum and squirt spraying down her thighs.
Once again, you begin to move, and she begins to gasp, and then—
From the door, a set of beeps.
“What the… access denied?” The voice belongs to the titular owner of the Herta Space Station: Madam Herta, or, more accurately, one of Herta’s remote bodies. “Who’s blocking my access?”
You and Asta exchange a split-second stare of absolute panic. Only a single override code stands between you two and getting thrown out the airlock in shame. You grab your clothes off the ground, Asta loops her arm around yours, and the two of you scramble behind the furthest bookshelf you can reach. A set of old changing lockers has been shoved against the wall. Asta throws it open, and yanks you inside with her. You pull it shut just as the storage room’s door slides open with a metallic hiss.
“Who in the world is ‘You Already Know Me’...? Probably some prankster,” Herta says. The sound of her synthetic footsteps reverb and linger in the still air of the storage room. All the while, Asta’s half-naked body is squeezed against yours. Neither of you can tell which gut-pounding heartbeats are whose.
Herta hums some jingle as she walks among the shelves. You can’t see her, but you can hear cardboard boxes moving around and papers being shuffled.
“No… not this one… Seriously, where did I put it?”
From the slivers of light breaking through the locker door’s slits, you can make out the terrified look on Asta’s face. But also, the gradual curl of her lips into an, aroused, shivering smile. A part of you is certain she doesn’t know it’s there.
That’s right. From the moment this little arrangement started, you always did suspect she got off to the prospect of getting caught.
Your finger rubs against her clit. Her eyes widen and her irises dart to you. It must’ve seemed like an accident at first, but the second time, your intent is clear.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses. It’s not very loud, but in the confined space, it feels louder than it probably was. .
You touch a finger to your lips. As for your other hand, one finger finds its way inside her still-wet, still-stuffed pussy. Then another. Then a third. You’re stroking her tender inner walls, gently pinching and playing her clit. You can feel a sharp shiver jolt through her spine, her body quivers against yours. An involuntary gasp breaches her lips.
The noise from outside the locker stops. Herta seems to have heard… something. But then, after an agonizing wait, Herta resumes her search.
You glance down at Asta. Her face is practically glowing neon scarlet. She looks positively furious, but that smile still hasn’t left her face. No, it’s still there, but it just looks… a lot more vindictive. A LOT more vindictive.
The message is clear. Two can play at that game.
Her fingers encircle your shaft. As you continue to feel up her inner walls, she runs her fingertips lightly across the tip of your penis, still sensitive from your prior shared orgasm. She presses your cock to her nude lower body and begins gliding it up and down her silky, sweaty, bare skin.
This time, it’s your turn to sound off, a half-choked moan. You don’t think it’s sexy, but clearly Asta disagrees.
From outside the locker, Herta’s footsteps start moving with purpose, closer, and closer. Unlike you, Asta’s not merciful enough to slow down when Herta appears to notice, either. In fact, she seems to get more and more into it, shifting her body up and down, rubbing her torso against you, rubbing her crotch against your painfully hard shaft, as a growing, burning ache builds up inside you. Asta knows your body. She knows your buttons, and she’s going to push them, consequences be damned.
Fuck it. Mutually assured destruction it is. If you’re getting thrown out the airlock, Asta’s coming with you.
Your fingers pick up the pace, caressing, probing, invading her insides. She squirms to the rhythm of your touch. Juices flow from her slit in jittery bursts. She’s putty in your hands. You know her body just as well as she knows yours. You know how she likes it, and you know that she likes it.
Silent moans and wordless gasps fill the locker, their origins indistinguishable. The instant either of you threaten to make any audible noise, the other grabs the offending party by the back of the head and pulls them into a passionate kiss to shut them the fuck up.
Herta’s footsteps move to the next row of shelves. The last row of shelves. Where you are. The footsteps stop, just outside the locker, no more than a few meters away.
From the slit in the locker door, you can see her. You can see Herta nonchalantly browsing the binders, tapping her doll-like fingers on spine, after spine, after spine.
“Not this one, not this one…”
Herta reaches the end of the shelf. And then, she turns to the row of lockers. For the briefest of moments, you could’ve sworn that your eyes met. But Herta doesn’t react.
“Maybe in there? I guess it’s possible.”
She throws open the first locker and rummages through the contents. You pry your gaze away from the world outside the locker and train it on the girl in front of you, on the verge of climax. If Asta was aware of Herta’s presence, of your shared impending doom, she doesn’t react either. She’s resigned to it.
No. With the utter fervor and passion she’s going at, that you’re going at, she’s not resigned to it, she’s eager for it. And you realize, with some level of horror, that you’re no different.
Herta opens the second locker. She’s close. Asta’s close. You’re close. The pounding of your heartbeats, the rush of blood to your skulls, they’re deafening. The sweet aroma of her perfume mixed with her sweat is intoxicating. The taste of her lips, as she and you attempt (almost certainly in vain) to silence each other, is addicting. Every part of her is addicting.
It happens without warning.
A set of tri-tone beeps plays from the other side. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the sound interrupt Herta as she reaches for the last locker, your locker, her hand frozen in midair. It’s at that exact moment that Asta climaxes, gasping into your mouth, splashing her squirt all over your leg and soaking your trousers where they lay discarded on the floor of the locker. You finish too, spraying your hot jizz in bursts. One glob hits her underboob and drips down her ribcage, one coats her navel, one makes it all the way to her cheek and dribbles down the contour of her neck and collarbone.
“That was today?” Herta mutters. “Well, fine.”
She walks off. The footsteps recede towards the door. You hear a mechanical sliding noise, the sound of a door opening and closing, and then, the storage room is silent once more, save the sound of you and Asta panting and gasping for air in each other’s arms.
You open the locker, and the two of you practically fall out of it. Asta pats down her clothes for her phone and checks the time. It’s 1524 system hours.
With a sigh, she says, “As much as I’d like to continue, I’ve got a meeting in about five minutes. Can you lend me a hand?”
“Are you going to be okay? Maybe you should call in sick.” you ask, mostly out of genuine concern (though if pressed, you’d probably admit there were selfish motives for the suggestion, too). Asta’s a total mess. Her hair and clothes are totally disheveled, body is covered in fluids. It’s not usually this bad, but then again, this is the first time Madam Herta has walked in on you two. You reach into your coat and fish out a handkerchief to help her wipe down her cheek.
“Thanks, but I’ll manage,” Asta says. As you continue taking care of the most visible cum stains, Asta fishes out a hairbrush from her bag and straightens out her appearance as best as she can. The speed at which she tidies herself up amazes you every time, though, again, this time was probably the most stark transformation. “Someone’s gotta keep this place running.”
“Don’t work too hard.”
“I’ll try.”
Asta helps you clean up your uniform a bit too, casting an apologetic glance at the fairly obvious wet stain on your trousers. After assuring her that you’re headed straight for your hab-unit after this, she allows herself to accept your forgiveness on that front.
And with that, she’s headed for the door. But she stops in front of the console. “One last thing.”
“Yeah?”
“2300 system hours, come to my room. Don’t be seen.” Asta looks back at you, touches of bashfulness still staining her cheeks. “For a proper round two.”
And without waiting for a response, Asta returns the permissions of the door back to normal and steps out. From where you stand, more than a bit impressed at the speed in which your dear Head Researcher can shift gears, you see Asta stop. A moment later, you see why.
One of Madam Herta’s remote bodies has been waiting by the door.
“Hello, Head Researcher Asta.”
“Uh… aha… Hi, Madam Herta. What are you doing here?”
“I was waiting for you to finish.” Herta speaks as though it’s the most matter-of-fact thing in the universe. “My puppets have bio-sensors installed in them, by the way. And I’m not going to judge you. There’s no point in hiding from me.”
With each word out of Herta’s mouth, Asta’s face and ears turn bright, bright red.
“I uh… I have a meeting right now! With the Biology Department! I’ll talk to you later—”
“I rescheduled it,” Herta says, with a dismissive wave of the hand. You’ll be helping me instead. Bring your boy-toy.”
“B-Boy toy? And, with what?”
“I’ve been experimenting with a new synthetic nervous system to replicate the impulses generated during sexual contact. Since you have so much experience in this matter, you’ll be my control subject.” Herta pokes her head into the storage room and motions to you. “Come along, there’s not a moment to waste.”