Weather Malfunction
Nova x Ixaaliot
NSFW
Nova x Ixaaliot
NSFW
There weren't a lot of things a person could count on living on Osiris. One of them was the weather. Artificial weather meant the reports were never wrong. Which was why, when walking Nova home, Ixaaliot said, "of course not," when she asked if it was raining.
Then raindrops started to hit him.
"What the fuck?" he demanded, the arms not draped over and around Nova reaching out to hold his palms upward.
"Does that mean it is raining?" Nova asked.
"What the fuck," he said again instead of answering. He squinted upward to see if it was some kind of weird... rain truck. But, no. It seemed to be coming from the level's skybox. He let go of Nova so that he'd have enough hands to shield his eyes and wipe rainwater from his face, his first set of eyelids closing against the water. "What the fuck."
"Sooo... it's raining."
"This isn't supposed to be happening," he said, as the rain began falling faster, still standing still and looking up.
"Is it dangerous?" Nova wondered.
"I don't think so," he said. "Someone probably hacked the weather system to... I don't know. Piss me off."
"It seems like it's working."
Ix scowled. "I'm already soaked," he complained, though he was still too busy glaring at the sky to move toward shelter.
"That must be terrible for you," Nova deadpanned, at which point Ix recalled that he was walking his girlfriend home because her street clothes had been wrecked. Which meant she was wearing her work clothes. Which were barely clothes at all, a skimpy dress that was now practically transparent and clinging to her skin even more than it was meant to.
"Shit," he said, which was probably not the best thing to say when staring at a beautiful woman. "I'm an asshole," he added, taking her by the arms to guide her down the street. She didn't need the help, but she let him do it anyway.
"Apology accepted," she said, even though he hadn't.
"Sorry," he said, even though it was gratuitous by then. "I should have brought an umbrella."
"When it wasn't supposed to rain?" Her tentacles had assumed a peculiar configuration to try and keep the rain out of her face.
"I should always bring an umbrella," he said seriously. "Everywhere. Just in case."
"It isn't that bad," she giggled, splashing in a puddle as she sped up. Ix was caught in the awkward position of trying to move fast enough to keep up with her, but not so fast that he ran her over. The difference between the length of their legs made this difficult. She squealed as there was the boom and flash of simulated thunder, stumbling just long enough for Ix to walk into her.
Which was bad for a number of reasons.
He had an idea. It was a bad idea. He was going to do it anyway.
"What's going on?" Nova asked as he steered her into an alley between two side-streets.
"Shortcut," he said.
"No it isn't," she protested. "This is the wrong direction. Is this why you always let the car drive?"
"You're not making it easy to be impulsive," he said.
"Are we being impulsive?" He answer the question by bringing both of them to a stop, pinning her against the smooth white metal of the building beside them. "Oh! You mean... impulsive."
"That is what I mean," he confirmed, pressing his mouth to hers. She kissed him eagerly in return, and his tongue wound around hers. Tentacles wrapped around the arms sliding along her body, tightened when fingers pressed against her pari'ia through wet clothes.
"Here?" she asked when their mouths parted, licking rain from her lips.
"Here," he confirmed, and he only sounded certain because she sounded excited. He took off his glasses so he could see her, the way she shimmered with water on her skin. His knees bent to try to get their hips in line, a low thrum in his chest. "Why am I so fucking tall?" he complained.
"Maybe I'm too short," she suggested, rising onto her toes even though she was already wearing precarious heels.
"You're perfect," he said, kissing her and wishing he had some kind of box that she could stand on. He would add that to the list of things he should always carry. Umbrellas and boxes. A tentacle slid past his belt, wound around tendrils that wound around her in turn, and he thrummed loud again. "Control yourself, madam," he said, but she looked impish and innocent as two hands pinned her arms to the wall. Never by the wrists, always just above her elbows, kissing her all the while.
The bend to his knees had them practically wrapped around hers as he unbuckled his belt, water still streaming over their skin in thin rivulets down scales and scars. Frond-like tendrils slipped immediately between her thighs, up her skirt and beneath her g-string and even as high as her hips. She gasped as all at once they dipped into her pari'ia and pushed inside of her, fluttering against her skin.
He coaxed her arms above her head, never rough with her as tendrils wound and twisted and pumped inside of her. His cheek pressed to hers, cephalic tentacles touching each other. "Hold these here," he said, and immediately two of her tentacles wrapped around her forearms. It was theoretically meaningless to ask her to hold herself still, but he liked the way it looked when she did it.
He unzipped her dress enough to have access to her breasts, two hands cupping them as the other two held her face. "You're beautiful," he told her, her back arching against him as tendrils slid in and out of her. He kissed her, fingers passing over nipples hardened by the cold. Another thrum, and more tendrils pushed into her than before, making her cry out.
Hands gently stroked her tentacles not wrapped around her arms, and drew them down over her shoulders to wrap around her own breasts. "Beautiful," he repeated, and his voice sounded even lower than usual. He licked water from her skin, sounding like a heavy drum. Their bodies weren't meant to fit together, too large and too small in all the wrong places, but he liked the way they worked despite that. Soft thighs and soft lips and soft breasts, nothing like the hard lines and sharp corners he was made of.
They probably should have tried to keep it down, being in a public space, and all. She was a little quieter than she was at home, but there was nothing he could really do about himself. The sound was probably carrying for blocks. Maybe people would assume it was more fake thunder. Her tentacles and her arms all wrapped around him as she came, and it was not entirely rain that soaked her thighs.
If anyone else between them and her house could see in ultraviolet, this would end poorly.
"I think I like the rain," she sighed happily, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I think you should let me call a car," he said, not sounding half as happy as he felt. She kissed him anyway, and he smiled.
Then raindrops started to hit him.
"What the fuck?" he demanded, the arms not draped over and around Nova reaching out to hold his palms upward.
"Does that mean it is raining?" Nova asked.
"What the fuck," he said again instead of answering. He squinted upward to see if it was some kind of weird... rain truck. But, no. It seemed to be coming from the level's skybox. He let go of Nova so that he'd have enough hands to shield his eyes and wipe rainwater from his face, his first set of eyelids closing against the water. "What the fuck."
"Sooo... it's raining."
"This isn't supposed to be happening," he said, as the rain began falling faster, still standing still and looking up.
"Is it dangerous?" Nova wondered.
"I don't think so," he said. "Someone probably hacked the weather system to... I don't know. Piss me off."
"It seems like it's working."
Ix scowled. "I'm already soaked," he complained, though he was still too busy glaring at the sky to move toward shelter.
"That must be terrible for you," Nova deadpanned, at which point Ix recalled that he was walking his girlfriend home because her street clothes had been wrecked. Which meant she was wearing her work clothes. Which were barely clothes at all, a skimpy dress that was now practically transparent and clinging to her skin even more than it was meant to.
"Shit," he said, which was probably not the best thing to say when staring at a beautiful woman. "I'm an asshole," he added, taking her by the arms to guide her down the street. She didn't need the help, but she let him do it anyway.
"Apology accepted," she said, even though he hadn't.
"Sorry," he said, even though it was gratuitous by then. "I should have brought an umbrella."
"When it wasn't supposed to rain?" Her tentacles had assumed a peculiar configuration to try and keep the rain out of her face.
"I should always bring an umbrella," he said seriously. "Everywhere. Just in case."
"It isn't that bad," she giggled, splashing in a puddle as she sped up. Ix was caught in the awkward position of trying to move fast enough to keep up with her, but not so fast that he ran her over. The difference between the length of their legs made this difficult. She squealed as there was the boom and flash of simulated thunder, stumbling just long enough for Ix to walk into her.
Which was bad for a number of reasons.
He had an idea. It was a bad idea. He was going to do it anyway.
"What's going on?" Nova asked as he steered her into an alley between two side-streets.
"Shortcut," he said.
"No it isn't," she protested. "This is the wrong direction. Is this why you always let the car drive?"
"You're not making it easy to be impulsive," he said.
"Are we being impulsive?" He answer the question by bringing both of them to a stop, pinning her against the smooth white metal of the building beside them. "Oh! You mean... impulsive."
"That is what I mean," he confirmed, pressing his mouth to hers. She kissed him eagerly in return, and his tongue wound around hers. Tentacles wrapped around the arms sliding along her body, tightened when fingers pressed against her pari'ia through wet clothes.
"Here?" she asked when their mouths parted, licking rain from her lips.
"Here," he confirmed, and he only sounded certain because she sounded excited. He took off his glasses so he could see her, the way she shimmered with water on her skin. His knees bent to try to get their hips in line, a low thrum in his chest. "Why am I so fucking tall?" he complained.
"Maybe I'm too short," she suggested, rising onto her toes even though she was already wearing precarious heels.
"You're perfect," he said, kissing her and wishing he had some kind of box that she could stand on. He would add that to the list of things he should always carry. Umbrellas and boxes. A tentacle slid past his belt, wound around tendrils that wound around her in turn, and he thrummed loud again. "Control yourself, madam," he said, but she looked impish and innocent as two hands pinned her arms to the wall. Never by the wrists, always just above her elbows, kissing her all the while.
The bend to his knees had them practically wrapped around hers as he unbuckled his belt, water still streaming over their skin in thin rivulets down scales and scars. Frond-like tendrils slipped immediately between her thighs, up her skirt and beneath her g-string and even as high as her hips. She gasped as all at once they dipped into her pari'ia and pushed inside of her, fluttering against her skin.
He coaxed her arms above her head, never rough with her as tendrils wound and twisted and pumped inside of her. His cheek pressed to hers, cephalic tentacles touching each other. "Hold these here," he said, and immediately two of her tentacles wrapped around her forearms. It was theoretically meaningless to ask her to hold herself still, but he liked the way it looked when she did it.
He unzipped her dress enough to have access to her breasts, two hands cupping them as the other two held her face. "You're beautiful," he told her, her back arching against him as tendrils slid in and out of her. He kissed her, fingers passing over nipples hardened by the cold. Another thrum, and more tendrils pushed into her than before, making her cry out.
Hands gently stroked her tentacles not wrapped around her arms, and drew them down over her shoulders to wrap around her own breasts. "Beautiful," he repeated, and his voice sounded even lower than usual. He licked water from her skin, sounding like a heavy drum. Their bodies weren't meant to fit together, too large and too small in all the wrong places, but he liked the way they worked despite that. Soft thighs and soft lips and soft breasts, nothing like the hard lines and sharp corners he was made of.
They probably should have tried to keep it down, being in a public space, and all. She was a little quieter than she was at home, but there was nothing he could really do about himself. The sound was probably carrying for blocks. Maybe people would assume it was more fake thunder. Her tentacles and her arms all wrapped around him as she came, and it was not entirely rain that soaked her thighs.
If anyone else between them and her house could see in ultraviolet, this would end poorly.
"I think I like the rain," she sighed happily, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I think you should let me call a car," he said, not sounding half as happy as he felt. She kissed him anyway, and he smiled.
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