Chapter Text
Dorothy Franks is sleepwalking; you know because she's not in her lab and she never passed your office to say goodnight. There's a destination though, as wandering as her mind gets, there's always a singular destination you can find her. Shes out on the observation deck, leaning against the railing, eyes fixed to the dark horizon beyond.
“Dorothy, what are you doing out here?”
“Dreaming.” Comes her reply. Her lips curl into a smile when she turns to face you, but it’s hollow, the kind that does little to ease the sudden ache in your heart.
“You’re crying.” You whisper gently, reaching up to tenderly wipe her cheek. When the warmth touches her skin, she instinctively leans into it.
“I thought I was hallucinating.” Dorothy says with a silent chuckle. “How silly, isn’t it, Doctor?”
“What’s silly, Dorothy?”
She falls silent for a moment. Lips tremble as she chokes out a quiet word;
“Me.”
She’s a genius, a master of Arts, head of an entire department of a renowned research institute, surrounded by friends and peers who trust her. Yes, to feel so alone, to fear being hated by them… it’s silly. It’s…
Stupid. It’s stupid and she knows it.
“We’re all a bit… silly.” You answer, careful to dance with the words she chose. A squeeze of her hand to acknowledge that she’s here, awake, with you.
“Remember what you told me once? That even should our experiments fail, the answer lies in the next attempts, Dorothy?”
She pulls her lab coat tighter around her, trying to shelter from her own words. Words she told you, spoken in confidence in times of your own momentary weakness.
“It’s cold tonight. Did you dress warm, Doctor?” She asks quietly, trying to change the subject.
“Dorothy…” You sigh, gently putting an arm around her and… hold her close. Though she shivers involuntarily, she still pulls your coat that little bit more around her as she mumbles,
“Thank you, Doctor.”
You don’t need to answer, simply letting her nuzzle in against your body warmth in both senses. You know her though, know where her mind drifts when she’s sleepwalking like this. You can shield her temporarily, but ultimately, Dorothy is the one who must wake up.
“Dorothy.” You say softly.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“We’re all normal people at heart, right?”
“R-Right, Doctor.”
“We all have these moments, but we bear them together. We’re all here for you, Dorothy.”
We. It’s her reminder, her guidance, knowing that Elena, Saria, Joyce, Olivia, Mechanist, Kal’tsit, Amiya…
And you, you are all interconnected.
“...And you… Doctor?” She meekly asks.
“I thought that went without saying. We’ve worked together how long, Dorothy?”
“Not long” is that answer, but to you it feels as if you have known eachother for much longer. Still, she giggles, shaking her head against your arm.
“No no… I meant… can I be there for you too, Doctor?”
Her voice is quiet, embarrassed with her round-about confession, but it’s still enough to send your heart into your throat.
“Of course, Dorothy.” You mange to say without a squeak or stammer. She shyly wiggles her arm behind your back in response, holding you by the hip in a mirrored embrace of how you hold her. Together you watch the moon’s descent from its apex, study the stars above, listen to the howl of the badlands’ winds, and share warmth. Two separate consciences sharing the same moment, the same little dream together.
You know it’s all she ever wanted.
The moon dips as the hues of the sun’s rise paints the sky a whimsical pastel palette. Picturesque, too beautiful, too vast for her to have simply dreamt up. There’s sorrow, there will always be sorrow, but there will always comes a new dawn. Little steps, little reminders, even should she wake in the darkness. As she squeezes your hand, you squeeze back, daring to ask,
“Ready to wake up, Dorothy?”
She shakes her head, spinning on her heel and placing a tentative hand upon your chest.
“I want to keep dreaming, if only for a little longer. Please, Doctor?”
Her golden irises shimmer in the moonlight, wide and pleading in a way that makes it impossible to deny her. Some had claimed her manipulative, deceptive in her sweetness, but after working alongside her you’ve come to know her.
Dorothy Franks, as genius as she is, makes a horrible liar.
She’s earnest in a way that makes the heart hurt, empathetic in ways that go above and beyond most on Terra, and it all stems from a deep scar.
And so you acquiesce to her with open arms. The blonde Zalak woman practically leaps into you, arms around your neck as she tries to pull you down. Sadly, she’s lighter than most and struggles to even budge you through strength alone.
Her pout though? That single puffed cheek as she struggles? That has you lowering yourself for her… to plant a swift and innocently inexperienced kiss on your lips.
“Dorothy-”
“Doctor.” She smiles sweetly, blushing. There’s still stains on her cheeks, the remnants of her earlier tears that froze on her face
“Can we… keep dreaming together?”
She might still be trapped in the mists of her waking dreams, and your response is to wrap her tighter in your arms, encase her in an armor of warmth. Her hair smells like wildflowers, a subtle perfume of sweet spices and the rawness of the badlands that makes the mind tingle, like she is the sweetest smelling salts.
Yet it doesn’t wake you from this dream either as Dorothy leads you by the hand back through the dimly lit halls of Rhodes Island. Even as the landship slowly wakes with the coming sunrise, you and her still sleepwalk to the dormitories, to her lab.
She gracefully sheds her coat and hat at the door before motioning for you to do the same, though you get halfway to the coat rack before Dorothy gives you a most exhilarating show.
The lithe Zalak woman is in a dancer’s pose, one foot in front of the other in heel-to-toe stance as she bends over to work her thigh-high boots off. Such a position… is compromising. It could be easily misconstrued as an attempt at seduction if it weren’t someone as pure-hearted as Dorothy Franks doing it.
But you can’t help but stare in awe.
Her waist is captivatingly tight, bringing attention to how they flare to the rolling hill of her hips. Tender thighs, so alluringly full, tease the creamy gap between her tight shorts and where they are wrapped in a thin stocking of thigh-high nylon.
Dorothy’s tail flicks, catching your attention, the fluffy, brown tip of it pulling your eyes to the black form-fitting shorts. A perfectly picturesque posterior posed primely for your pleasure- though when her tail excitedly twitches you can see just past that sculpted arch of her hind to see the two golden eyes. Dorothy is looking over her shoulder at you, blushing so fierce you swear you can see the red traveling up to her ears.
“Ah… Doctor, you’re staring…”
Her voice is still as soft and soothing as ever, no trace of anger or disappointment despite your leering. No, if anything, there’s the honey-sweet tint of teasing coyness, and that draws you in further. There, right behind her as she slowly stands once more, you place your hands on those hips that just seemed so perfectly aligned for you.
“Eep!” Dorothy squeaks in surprise, an instinctive reaction to your boldness. Rigid as a D32 steel beam, yet she melts back against you the moment she feels your arms wrap around her.
“Just found something worthy of study, Director Franks.”
Dorothy playfully clicks her tongue at your flirtatious words before spinning around in your arms. There she studies your face, scrutinizes your cheeky grin, and stands on her tip-toes to get even closer. She doesn’t blink, ready to capture this vivid dream before her sleepwalking inevitably ends.
Soft, welcoming lips parted ever-so-slightly, plump, tempting…
And caught in the intoxicating haze of her yearning, you kiss Dorothy.
There’s no surprise this time as she sighs into your lips, embracing you back. Soft and sweet at first, like two long-lost lovers reuniting. The longing, the craving for companionship, the soothing of her loneliness is expressed in how she gently asks you for more with little nibbles. Hands drift, with you finding a place so naturally on her hips. She encourages you with a deeper, needier kiss, one that mashes her softness to yours and leaves her whimpering and short of breath. That soft, agile tail wrapped around your leg is an expression of her wants.
So when you reach that little bit farther down to cup that pretty apple-bottom of hers, there’s no jump of embarrassment, just sharp breath in as her heart thunders against yours. With a hot gasp she breaks free from your tangle of lips, her face burning bright though. A cute shade of rose across the bridge of her nose before she buries her face against your chest. Her hands grip onto you tight, wanting to get you closer even as she stands on her tip-toes for you to get more of her in your hands.
You knead and grope, pinch and rub, amazed in the perfect balance of tone and plump in those cheeks, all the while listening to how Dorothy tries to stifle her gasps against you. It's a wonder you can’t quite comprehend- just how can she keep herself so trim when she never leaves her lab?
“Doctor?” Dorothy squeaks.
“Dorothy?”
Her hands tighten on you, tail coiled tight too as she plans her words out.
“D-Do you… like studying… me?”
You answer her timidity with a boldness that literally takes her off her feet.
She’s light, and already on her tip-toes, so it doesn’t take much to lift her up. A cute, confused little yelp, but she throws her arms around your neck as expected, and more excitingly, wraps her legs around you to hold on. It gives you easy access to those delightful thighs of hers, and as you carry her gently to a counter. When you set her down, she’s beaming a smile as she thrusts her chest out ever-so-slightly, giving you freedom to roam about her bountiful frontier.
“Doctor…” Dorothy pouts, having been played perfectly by you. A complaint easily solved by your lips to hers, letting her suckle and nibble you as you explore. The gap between stocking and shorts is silky smooth, and each tender little squeeze you give of them she tightens her hold on your waist. Tracing that splendid underside until you strike the defined curve between supple thigh and perky backside, your fingertips inadvertently brush inward against something warm.
And Dorothy twitches, mewling gently into your mouth; a soft sigh that tells you everything.
This is still a dream that she never wants to wake up from.
So you oblige her fantasies, pressing the desires in.
Her candied giggles when your lips pluck at her neck, her cute little squirms of embarrassment at the current predicament, her heated gasps when your fingertips trace the warm line between her thighs…
The click of her belt-straps, the zip of her leather skirt being split open, the clatter of everything extraneous falling away between the two of you. Dorothy Franks sits before you on her lab’s counter, ears drooping slightly as she fidgets with nervousness, those golden eyes of hers darting like a cornered Zalak’s would.
“I’ve never… um… been with… w-well there just never was any time and…” She begins to ramble as the reality sets in. Slim arms fruitlessly try to cover her curves out of instinctual bashfulness. A bit late, frankly, but still adorable nonetheless. A soft kiss, reaffirming in your affection, quiets those anxious thoughts of hers.
As the grip on herself loosens, she opens up both metaphorically and literally to reveal her curve-hugging waist-high shorts that perfectly joins her white tank top with the thinnest of gaps. She’s got the figure like the hourglass that dangles from her lab coat, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“Director Franks, if you’ll permit me to begin your examination?” You ask while drinking in her figure. A bit of playfulness to ease her, a way to win an earnest chuckle, and Dorothy opens her arms for you.
“You… may, Doctor.”
When your hands roam her again, Dorothy leans back with hands on the counter, head tilted with neck exposed. Your lips brush across silky skin, teasing excited little whimpers from her- but it’s when you gingerly tug at the waistband of her shorts that she lets out a hot, sharp gasp. A bit surprised, sure, but wiggles her bottom to help you work that tight material down her body.
A quivering smile, a blush across the bridge of her button nose, lips parted like she wants to say something but just can’t think of the words as her bottoms slip past the apex of her contours, tugged to her knees, finally free to fall down to her ankles. It’s clear she wants to cover herself, but for the sake of your “examination”, Dorothy keeps her hands firmly rooted on the counter even as you tenderly knead her thighs, slowly teasing her legs open. When you get on your knees for a closer look, the Zalak whines softly, but oh is it gone when your fingertips gently brush that sensitive place where legs met. Two budding, fleshy petals topped by a tuft of curly blonde, and when they’re parted slightly, there’s a hint of excitement glistening.
Your face drifts ever closer to them, but instead of focusing on where your lips will land, you’re looking up at Dorothy, watching at how she chews her bottom lip, ready for the moment you make touch-down-
“-Hiyn!-”
A visceral tensing, confusion at the sensation of something warm and wet gliding up through her untouched petals, but to Dorothy’s credit, she doesn’t recoil nor resist. No, she’s fascinated with watching you as your tongue makes a second pass, this time dipping a little deeper into her well, tapping the sweet honey within. You hold her supple thighs, feeling as her muscles twitch with each pass that your lick glides through her and flicks off that flush, hooded crown. Her lips wordlessly whispers “Doctor” every-other lick, her breathing and heart rate increasing with each passing second.
There’s a heat thats building up inside of Dorothy, and to help alleviate it, she grabs the hem of her tanktop and yanks it up and over her, letting her perky mounds bounce free. Naked now, save for the thigh-high stocking, Director Franks makes it clear through her longing gaze that she wants your examination to be thorough.
So, lathering your finger with the solution mixed from her honey and your saliva, you delve into her with tongue and digit working in tandem.
“Doctor!” Dorothy yelps in surprise when your fingertip gingerly eases into her tight walls, but her curiosity gets the better of her when the sensation of your probing pays its dividends. Kisses and licks, swirling and undulating that strong mouth-muscle of yours against her slowly emerging bud, loosening her little-by-little so that you can get a little bit deeper. Gentle and precise during this delicately intimate procedure, you find the soft little bit of her walls that makes her whine and squirm when you tenderly stroke it with the pad of your fingertip.
“Doc…tor…”
Short of breath, arms quivering as they struggle to keep their strength, you can hear the worry in her voice, that she doesn’t quite know what she’s feeling nor how to express it… but she still trusts you enough to let it continue.
“Oh… Oh ~” Dorothy moans as she tosses her head back. She’s at the threshold of some new and exciting discovery, and you want to be there with her when she feels it. Her body shudders when you give a playful suckle on her blossom’s pleasure bud, the catalyst to a sensual chain reaction. You stand once more, adjusting your finger to the new angle as you coax Dorothy over the precipice of bliss.
She cries out as all of her muscles contract wildly, a warmth squirted against your palm as she starts to spasm. You manage to catch her as she starts to fall back, seal up the leaking scream with your lips, hold her tight to keep her all together as she comes apart at the metaphorical seams- even though you’re the one who’s been tugging at them still with playful fingers.
The orgasm tapers slowly, aftershocks still rumbling through her long after you’ve removed your fingers, leaving the Rhine Lab director in a daze. Eyes shut tight, squeezing tighter still when a shiver jolts through her, little embarrassed mewls escaping from her lips when she realizes that you’re closely observing every little bit.
“Doctor… that was… I-I…” She gasps.
“Better than when you touch yourself, Director Franks?”
Another shock jolts through her, but one summoned out of sheer vulgarity rather than from your touch. Clammed up tight, she pouts instead, demanding some recompense from your lips which you gleefully oblige- though she grabs you by the collar and swiftly pulls you in.
“Y-yes… it did.” She squeaks quietly before turning her attention to your warmth pressed up against her. “N-now… -ahem- I do believe it’s your turn for examination, Doctor?”
Dorothy gently pushes you aside so that she can stand on shaky legs. Though you move to help her, she very politely pats the warm spot where she had just been.
“Please lay down, Doctor. Ah, and please remove your trousers.” Though Dorothy speaks very clinically, there’s still a warmth to her voice, that sweetness that she naturally exudes. Quick to sit, even quicker to drop trou, Dorothy’s eyes widen at the sight of your instrument pulsing before her.
“Quite the… specimen, Doctor.” Dorothy purrs, hiding her fluster well as she gently eases you back onto the counter. Her touch is methodological, measuring if not slightly… objective? With her glove on, the touch is less stimulating, but watching her fascination with your instrument of intimacy more than makes up for it. When she squeezes to test your rigidity, your instrument throbs in reaction, earning an intrigued if not slightly surprised hum. She notes your length, wraps fingers around your girth, traces your veins- committing it to memory in lieu of sketching out notes. Once her initial “assessment” is completed though, she quietly slips the yellow protection off of her hands, and takes hold again.
The touch of her skin is heavenly. Silky smooth, warm as she lovingly strokes up and down your length. Your excitement leaks at once, and it’s a new variable that Dorothy lovingly plays with. Her thumb rubs it, experiments with the slickness before adapting it into her new regime of pleasurable pumping. She hums to herself as she works your shaft, diligent and attentive to detail- just like how she would tackle any of her projects. Despite that, it feels as if her fingers are dancing upon your nerves, testing the dial of your pleasure. For someone who’s never done this before, she certainly is quite adept-
“Dorothy!” You groan, feeling that rise bubbling up quicker now. She feels your tension and soothes you by leaning in, nose to nose with you. That soft, caring smile, one that tells you “everything will be just fine” as she kisses you. There she lingers, gazing longingly into your eyes.
“Please bear with me,” She hotly whispers, “I am still taking a sensitive sample.”
And Dorothy drifts down until face to face with your instrument… and licks it. Just a tiny movement, one that really wasn’t meant to give overwhelming pleasure, and yet it feels sensual. Maybe it’s how slowly and diligently she circles her tongue around the head, or it could be how she’s looking at you as she does so with wide and innocent eyes, or perhaps it's her pleased hums as she picks up her experiment’s paces.
Or it’s all three; either way, for such a simple act, it's bringing you to the brink.
So when she escalates to the next step in the experiment, you nearly burst. Plump lips wrap lightly around your tip, finding seating against the line that separates head and shaft, tongue tasting the serum that leaks from you. She lowers them slowly, taking the time to analyze your surface with her sensitive tools, lips parting ever so slightly each time she crawls them down another millimeter or so to re-seal the site of her sampling. It’s a cautious approach, a treatment that speaks to tenderness rather than unchecked lust, and she only gets half-way down before coming back up…
But her next plunge down is that little bit faster, her golden irises scanning your face for every little twinge of pleasure she gives. Faster again; a bit sloppier, the grazing of her teeth making you flinch slightly in surprise, but it’s a detail someone as attentive as Dorothy takes note of. Her next plunge is just purely her tongue’s silkiness against your skin, leaving a glistening and polished shaft when she comes up.
A hasty pace, steady, but vigorous enough that her ears bob and bounce with her head movements. She’s closed her eyes by this point, pumping her hand off-time with her head, little muffled whimpers between hot slurping of spit, tongue wildly painting across your most sensitive spots until, with a groan, you give her the specimen sample she’s yearning for.
“-Mm? Mmph! Mmmnnn~”
The load takes her by surprise at first, snapping those beautiful eyes of hers open wide when she realizes she’s missing the best part- seeing your face twisting in pleasure. She holds her head steady even as you squirm, pumping the base of your test tube to heat it, stimulating another load. All the while, her other hand is affectionately stroking your leg, like she’s reassuring you, a silent “there there, let it all out.” Locked tight until you’re spent, she gingerly pulls her lips up and off your instrument, careful to not miss a single drop.
“Mmmn? Hmm nnn…?” She mumbles, looking at you with confusion. With a tilt of her head, you suddenly understand what she means; ‘What do I do with this now?’
She holds her hands to her chin in case her vessel springs a leak, but she’s waiting for your response.
“C-Could you, um, swallow it, Dorothy?” You request. Voice a bit spent, and still slightly winded, you certainly come off meeker than usual, but it’s a tone that Dorothy seems captivated by. Blushing bright, you watch as her throat works some of your thick concentrate down. She frowns slightly with another tilt of her head as she thinks, her tongue obviously rolling some of it in her mouth.
Dorothy Franks, Director of Originium Arts for Rhine Labs, is standing naked before you… tasting your semen like it were some kind of proper test. Lost in thought, oblivious to where she is and what she’s done, just like how she works… so why not… tease her a little?
“What’s your analysis, Director Franks?”
She perks up, squeaking her embarrassment in the most adorable way as she realizes the situation. Put on the spot, she tries to cover herself with her arms and hands, but when you sit up and pull her into your embrace, she’s got no escape. You can hear her gulp down the last bit before panting out,
“Th-the sample was… exceptionally thick, and leaves behind a… residue that makes the tongue and throat muscles react. Though I was unable to get a solid… s-sperm count, I might need… another sample.”
Hearing those words certainly helps prepare another dose for her. Soft, supple breasts pressed up against you, her bashful mewling, the way she’s unconsciously rubbing herself against your leg all help to warm up your instrument once more…
“Then… should we move to the exam table?”
When you ask, her eyes immediately dart to the cushioned, reclining table set beside her menagerie of experiments, and she nervously bites her bottom lip. Her tail excitedly flicks as she unconsciously squirms her legs together, the fingers covering her flushed folds fidget, a single digit reflexivity slipping between them as she imagines what is going to happen.
“Yes… we should.”
Both of you drift there, blind to everything else as a swirling sandstorm of desire engulfs you. That table becomes your oasis, the singular destination of this humid dream. Dorothy climbs on top, easing herself back against the cushioned recline. Legs held tight together, arms covering her chest, tail rigid beneath her- of course she’s anxious despite this being a fantasy come true for her… and so your bedside manner puts her at ease. Whispering affirmations in her ears, your hands examine her curves. There’s deceptive weight to her breasts, a deep and doughy springiness to them, but when you brush those stiff pink nipples, she shivers, squirming her legs together. Her grip loosens though- a reaction to certainly note. Her thighs have just a delightful amount of give to them before you can feel the firmness of tensed muscle beneath their charming curve. Soft, feathery light kisses to go with how your fingertips glide back and forth along the curve of her thigh, each pass getting drifting closer and closer between… until they brush the tuft of blonde curls that point to the delicate grounds below.
Though she’s excited, it’s the tenderness, the attention and love that you dote on her that ultimately loosens anxiety’s grip on Dorothy. She parts her legs slightly on your gentle urging, letting you stroke further within, feeling the remnants of her first pleasurable climax on her thighs. It’s when your fingers brush against hot, fleshy petals that Dorothy gasps sharply, eyes snapping open to observe how you touch her. Gently you open her lips again with a single finger, feeling and hearing the stickiness as they part, diligently lubricating your digit before spreading her silky mixture around the surface.
“Doctor…” Dorothy softly whines as she reaches down to stroke your now-rigid instrument. She looks up at you, pleading, acknowledging your desire with her own-
So you incline the back of the table for her to rest up against, scoot her to the edge and lift her legs so that she’s planted her heels on the edge of the cushioned slab, and with hands holding the springy underside of her thighs… you tentatively spread her legs open.
“Ready for the experiment, Dorothy?” You ask, taking position between her trembling knees and checking your alignment.
“Y-Yes.”
Her reply is hot and sharp, and though she shivers when she feels your instrument placed against her entrance, it’s out of excitement rather than fear. A measured stroke from tip-to-base against her lubricating petals makes her squeak, and though she pouts at the perceived teasing, she appreciates the second and third after you lean in and kiss her on the forehead.
On the forth, you drop your hips more, letting your tip catch-
“Doctor-” Dorothy sharply inhales as she feels you slowly spread her open.
“Dorothy.” Comes your reply with a loving kiss, holding her by the underside of her tender thighs as she reflexively tries to shut them. Your movements are restrained, measured, ensuring that the moments she does tense in displeasure, you are able to pause at once, ease her with affection and tenderness. Little by little, more of your instrument is inserted on each subsequent cycle of your hips until, eventually, you are fully seated inside her. Her walls contract and pulse around your girth, taking in those intimate measurements as you let her acclimate to the feeling. When she beckons you closer with wide, open arms you readily accommodate her, letting go of her legs to fall into her embrace.
Arms wrapped around your back, legs locked tight on your waist, Dorothy holds you as close as she can, the closest she ever could, and nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck.
She mumbles something, embarrassed and nearly incoherent, but your connection to Dorothy… your bond with her makes those words clear in your mind.
Love and a desire to be loved.
To be bound with another, connected.
To never be left alone again.
“Am… I still dreaming?” Dorothy asks in a daze, voice floating lightly off trembling lips.
Your answer comes when you gently push from her, ushering her eyes down between your bodies. The connection is clear to see, physical proof that her dream is reality, the gnawing void she felt in both body and heart, filled. Though her body tightens with the onset of embarrassment, she relaxes the instant your lips brush her head and you quietly say the words she always wished to hear.
And though tears silently trail down her cheeks, Dorothy Franks’ lips quiver into an honest, radiating smile.
“I dreamed of this…” She breathlessly whispers. Her hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, to test if you are really there, and when she’s satisfied, she can’t help but weep her happiness. “I’m glad that… you’re my first.”
Overwhelming tenderness, a heart that she had picked up from the sand after dropping it so many times, a promise and pledge from a woman who had used her pain to try and better the world. Now she only needs focus on one-
And when she feels you throb within her, she softly giggles.
“Sorry, Doctor… I was just a bit overwhelmed. Please, continue your… examination.”
She guides your hands back onto her legs, lifting herself slightly for you as she reclines once more, though she is sure to rest her hands over yours, affectionately rubbing her reassurance as you take that first full draw back.
“Mnn…” An utterance slips from her, the Zalak unable to hide how she relaxes now that the discomfort spreading her open recedes for the moment. When you gradually push in again, she lets out a long, drawn out breath as she rests her head back. Still, she rubs your hands, urges you to continue, and so you pump your hips in an easy rhythm. Discomforting tightness gives away to slick, coiling squeezes, ones that pulse alongside your instrument’s throbbing. Eyes closed tight, lips parting slightly as the blush on her face grows brighter, her breathing is humidly heavy, chest rising and falling with each stroke.
“D-Doctor…” Dorothy faintly moans, her voice tinged with that breathless bit of pleasure. It’s a signal that urges you to go a little bit faster, a little bit harder. Your flesh claps to hers in a test of your instrument’s newest setting, putting a bit of bounce and jiggle to her chest and making the Zalak squirm against the backrest.
“-Nn… ah… hnn-ah…-” Dorothy pants, turning her head from you for a moment like she means to hide, but she cracks an eye towards you and beams a smile. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for when you take her wholly and passionately.
Your hips roll again, pulling back from Dorothy’s pleasing pressure to come out coated in her silky solution, only to drive back in before she completely clenches.
Once more, a little faster, feeling how her walls try to slow and hold you within.
Once more, a little harder, watching how her hand comes up to cover her mouth and stifles her gasp.
Once more, a little deeper, hearing how she squeaks when your tip kisses her inner depths.
Your tempo holds steady on these probing dives into Dorothy, the only variable you adjust is the slight angle of your hips pistoning until it yields a reaction that’s unexpected-
Dorothy tosses her head back, hands suddenly grabbing for your hands once again.
“Th-there!” She groans when she feels your tip glide through her to seat home against her once more. You repeat the movement, diligent with your mental note-taking, and are rewarded with Dorothy gasping again as your instrument strikes some pleasurable bundle of nerves in her.
It’s a breakthrough that you need to exploit, but one that you need to prepare for. You withdraw your instrument from the current experiment a moment, and though Dorothy whimpers her protest, she can see your need for a small breather as you throb and twitch against her still-gasping lips. Hums and coos, tender touches to your cheeks and teasing flicks of her tail against you all let you know that she’s more than ready… and with a simple kiss, you push up her thighs, lift her rear that little bit more off the cushion, insert into her warmth…
And fuck her.
It’s a good thing that she’s sound-proofed her lab, because Dorothy’s loud and lurid song is a mixture of surprise and pleasure that only pitches higher as you slap your flesh against hers. Her fingernails dig into your hands as she thrashes her head back and forth to send her euphoric cries echoing wildly around the lab.
Mixed cries and grunts, of you both calling one another’s names as you reaffirm the love deeper, harder, hotter than ever before. It all culminates in Dorthy’s back arching against the slab, an arc of climactic electricity coursing through her. Toes curling, hands wildly grasping for anything to help keep her from flying away, tail whipping against your legs as she tosses her head back one last time.
“I’m cumming!”
A voice that is normally so soft spoken and sweet now brazenly sings a sordid announcement, one that precedes the euphoric internal reaction. She clenches tight around you, folds coiling around in a reflexive attempt to stop or slow your input instead draws your pleasure from down below. Your final thrusts are frantic, fueled by the sight of Dorothy overcome by her orgasm, wanting to hear more of her wailing, dreamy delights… but its a stimulation that can’t hold indefinitely. That tell-tale tremble resonates through you, makes your hips jerky and harder to keep pace as you instinctively try and screw yourself against the most intimate part of her laboratory. You start to slowly pull out when Dorothy touches your cheek, draws your attention to her and her alone. Eyes clouded and watery, lips trembling, she beckons you closer.
“Inject me.” She desperately gasps, grabbing you roughly by the hands and pulling you down atop her. Legs snap tight around your waist, her arms locked behind your back, her body pressed up against yours like she wishes to fuse together at the atmoic level.
“D-Dorothy…!?”
“Inject me.” She whimpers once more. Less heated than before, spoken not from lust, but from her heart, from where her dreams and reality collide. The memories and moments you with this flawed-yet-earnest Zalak woman, a lifetime of conversations rolled into such a short amount of time. The culmination of her trust and desire; a kindred bond, a heart yearning for more.
A heart that has healed, a heart that has filled, a heart that… she is willing to share with all, but has reserved a special place for one and one alone.
Connected at last with a person she’s come to love dearly. Connected with someone she… wants to… call family.
Interlocked tight with your Zalak lover, you give her the final sample, the one that could very well cause a deeper cellular reaction.
But you both are willing to accept the consequences of it.
It flows into her, fills her, leaves her quietly weeping her happiness against your chest. She keeps her legs locked tight around you until well after the last tapering shot of your genetic code settles inside her, and even then she is reluctant to let you go. You know why though, you know her fears, you know what has set her down the path she walks… and though you draw yourself from her warmth and sever the physical, you hold onto her, cloak her in the warmth of your deeper interconnection. A silent promise that you'll walk with her.
At some point the two of you wander, still naked, to the couch she keeps in her lounge, laying down together despite the awkwardness of the space. Laying atop you, Dorothy sleeps soundly, the rise and fall of her chest against yours, your heartbeats keeping time to the peaceful rhythm you two make. Though she dreams now, you know that when you both wake it will be a new reality, one created by the two of you.
It will be uncertain, it will be awkward, it might even be painful, but she’ll gladly walk it beside you…
One thing is certain though as you kiss the top of Dorothy’s wheat blonde head and drift away to join her-
That if she ever wakes from her dreams feeling scared of the future, you will make damn sure that she will never feel abandoned ever again.